HCC 115 - Borderline by Lawrence Block Read Free Book Online

do much of anything with him. Now I’m divorced. Are you married?”
    “No.”
    “Ever been married?”
    “Never.”
    “It’s horrible. Never marry, friend.”
    He took out his Luckies and shook two from the pack. He lit both cigarettes and gave
     one to her.
    “Looking at this picture is making me horny,” she said. “Do you like straightforward
     and direct women?”
    “Yes.”
    “Well,” she said, “I want to get laid and I haven’t had a man in awfully long. I’m
     being straightforward and direct as hell, friend. I’m horny as hell, too. I want to
     get laid. I don’t even know your name but I want to get laid.”
    “It’s Marty.”
    “Mine’s Meg. Interested, Marty?
    “I’m interested.”
    “Just look at these lovely pictures,” she said, spreading out three or four of them
     on her lap. “I want to do it this way and this way and this way. I don’t know about
     this one, though. Ever do it this way?”
    “Yes,” he said.
    “Is it fun?”
    “It’s okay.”
    “Then this way, too. I’ve never been in Juarez before. Do you go to a hotel or just
     make love in the park like the natives?”
    “I’ve got a house.”
    “Here?”
    “In Paso,” he said. “I’ve got a car and we can be there in five minutes.”
    “That sounds about right,” she said. “I think I can hold out for five minutes. God,
     I’m horny. I’m a little bit drunk, too. Very drunk, actually. But I won’t pass out
     on you or anything. I’ll be fine.”
    “Will you hate yourself in the morning?”
    “Only if you’re lousy in bed. If you’re good, I’ll love myself in the morning. Let’s
     go, Marty.”
    She got to her feet and he helped her shovel the filthy pictures back into her purse.
     She took his arm. He led her to the Olds, deciding that he liked this Meg, that she
     was all right. She was drunk, and she probably would be a little different when she
     was sober, but the direct and straightforward routine seemed honest enough.
    She was going to be good in bed, he knew. Very good in bed. She was horny and hungry
     and ready to go, and he was hot from need and hot from the pictures and hot from her,
     and it would be a long night.
    He grinned at her. “If I’m real good will you do more than love yourself in the morning?”
    “I’ll love you too,” she replied with a sly smile.
    “How?”
    “The same way I did during the night.”
    “The
same
way,” he said with a sigh of disappointment.
    “Well,” she explained, “by morning we may have to repeat ourselves and do it one way
     for the second time.”
    “Are you up to it?” he asked.
    “I’m up to it as long as you’re up to me,” she said.
    “I will be—close up to you—in five minutes.”
    They were at the side of his Olds now. He unlocked the door on the passenger side
     and held it open for her. She seated herself gracefully and he looked down her dress
     again. She had better breasts than Betty, he saw. Very fine breasts.
    His hands itched with need to touch, to hold. He drew a breath, walking around the
     Olds and pitching his half-smoked cigarette into the gutter. She leaned across the
     seat to open the door for him and he had another look at her breasts. She was wearing
     a bra. It would be a pleasure to take it off.
    He got into the car, rolled down his window, started the car. She leaned forward and
     switched off the ignition.
    “First give me a kiss,” she said.
    He kissed her and her tongue leaped into his mouth. She drew close, thrusting her
     breasts against his chest, clutching at his hair with her fingers.
    “Now give me a feel,” she said.
    He put his hand on her breast and cupped it, feeling the weight of it, the warmth
     of it, the softness of it.
    “Now drive like hell,” she said. “Drive like hell.”
    He increased the movements of his hand over her breasts and turned his body slightly
     toward her.
    “No,” she protested. “Drive the car like hell. You can drive me like hell later.”
    He slipped his