Black Friday (or Black Market) - James Patterson [63]
Caitlin was doing some unexpected things to him.
She blew softly on the insides of her hands. She cupped warm fingers over his eyelids, then over his ears.
She spoke in a voice that was nearly as gentle and sensual as her touch. “This is called a thrill massage. Believe it or not, it was the fad at little Oberlin College.”
“Yeah? You’re good at it”
“Awh, gee blush…. Wild youth in long forgotten Mid western corn fields.”
He was beginning to like her.
Maybe an awful lot.
He didn’t know if he should, if this truly was wise.
She lightly brushed his legs again…. His upper back again Neck, scrotum.
Only much faster, even lighter now. Turning him into jelly, no container.
There was no real impression of fingers, he was noticing.
Quite amazing.
More like the softest combs of air.
How had she gotten this good?… A little unbelievable in a way… being who she was….Who was she, really?
Her face came down very close then. “Smile for the camera, Arch.” Faint smiling whisper from Caitlin. “My heart is pure, but my mind is occasionally kinky.”
At some time, somewhere in all of the light touching, brushing, tickling, Caitlin had taken her jeans and blouse off. She still wore pink underpants, wool knee socks. Her breasts had the loveliest, delicate, shell-pink nipples. They were hard now; totally aroused.
She touched one erect nipple, then the other to the head of Carroll’s penis.
She was a masterpiece, Carroll couldn’t help thinking, completely filling his eyes.
Carroll remembered what she’d said before in the breakfast nook. It made him smile a little now, almost laugh out loud. We ‘re going to need at least an hour.
There was no longer such a thing as time; no Green Band urgencies existed right now. Carroll had the comfort able, wonderful idea that he trusted Caitlin Dillon…. He almost completely trusted her. How could he so easily trust Caitlin already?…
“Tell me all about yourself. Whatever comes out No editing, okay, Carroll?”
To the continuing rhythm of her fingers; to the slight crooning of bed springs; to dancing morning sunbeams, Carroll spoke the truth, as he knew it:
“Whole life story. About thirty seconds…. As a little kid I always wanted to play for the Yankees, maybe, maybe for the football Giants. Son of a cop. Honest, poor cop. Irish-Catholic family from the West Bronx. That’s my youth. Notre Dame…. Law School at Michigan State. Then drafted.
“Four absolutely terrific kids. Kind of a perfect marriage until Nora passed away. That’s middle-American for she died… I’m a very different person when I’m with my kids. Childlike and free. Maybe a little retarded… um… boy … that’s very nice. Yes, right there. Ohio, huh?”
“What else? You were telling me your life story. Reader’s Digest condensed version.”
“Oh, yeah… I have this recurring problem. Big problem … with Them:
“Who’s them?”
Arch Carroll suddenly felt a sharp twist of tension. Not now. He made it go away.
“Just them…. Ones who make all the most important decisions Ones who rob people, without caring one way or the other. On Wall Street, down in Washington. Ones who trade terrorist murderers—for innocent, kidnapped business people. The ones who kill people of brain cancer. The bad guys. As opposed to… us.”
Caitlin gently kissed Carroll’s curly brown hair; she kissed his cauliflower ear. She finally found his mouth, which tasted very nice, she thought Fresh and clean and sweet.
“I don’t like them either. I think I like you. I think I like us. Please like me a little.”
“All I can do is try, Caitlin. You’re beautiful. You’re witty. You seem to be nice as hell. I’ll try to like you.”
“Now me. Your turn to …” Caitlin whispered.
“This an’ that, the next thing.”
“Really soft, Arch … with you that name’s more like the verb. To arch. Anybody ever call you Archie?”
“Not more than once.”
‘Tough guy,” she purred.
“Grrr. I’m a street cop.”
Carroll slowly rose onto his hands, then his knees. He was very hard, almost painfully hard.
At his first touch, Caitlin tightened her stomach. Then she slowly let herself relax. She tightened the abdominal muscles