Torque by Glenn Muller Read Free Book Online Page B

did you get home?”
    “Well my sister was pretty bombed, and since
I’d only drank six beers we decided I would drive.”
    “Six beers. And you with a learner’s
permit.”
    Brandon started to smile. “Hey, I can drive
as long as I have someone licenced with me, although she was passed
out in the back seat.”
    “Uh-huh,” said Fenn. “Now I really think
you’re pulling my leg.” They both laughed then Brandon said, “My
sister is in residence just a couple of blocks from where the party
was. We walked there. Well, I walked, she kind of staggered back
but we made it.”
    “So what was that patch called?”
    “A zebra.”
    “And you know to stay away from crap like
that.”
    “I do.”
    “I like your style, kid. Now find us a victim
and we’ll parallel park.”
     

 
     
    CHAPTER
9
     
    Thursday, October
15th
     
    Durrell was ready. He was more than ready.
It had been three days since he’d bedded Little Red Ringlets, and
he’d been hoping to do so again for the last two.
    Problem was, she’d flown away. Hadn’t called.
Hadn’t come back to knock on his door. Hadn’t left her number or
even her full name. All she’d left were carnal memories that had
haunted his thoughts as he walked the halls of Simedyne late at
night. Memories that kept his clock ticking but the pendulum swung
wildly between hope and frustration.
    He emptied his coffee mug into the sink and
opened the refrigerator door. There they were. Two bottles of white
wine. Two bottles of proof she’d hung him out to dry. He shut the
door and they rattled together.
    Women!
    The evening news was wrapping up which meant
it was nearly ten-thirty. Time to put on his boots and head off to
work. The running water that rinsed his mug drowned out the first
ring of the phone. But not the second.
    He sock-skated on the hardwood floor into the
living room, drying his hands on his pants before picking up the
handset.
    “Hello?”
    “Marty? Hi. It’s me!”
    “Me who?” like, women always called this
number late at night. Isn’t that why he worked the late shift, to
get some peace?
    “It’s Brenda. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.
I sure haven’t.”
    Durrell silently pumped his fist.
    “Of course I haven’t. You’re all I’ve thought
about!”
    “Yeah. Me too. You, I mean.” Her giggles were
like chimes. “I’m sorry I couldn’t call you sooner.”
    “No problem,” he said but wanted to add ‘just
get your ass over here.’
    “I had to go out of town for work.”
    “Okay, So, what are you doing now?” A casual
question. Stay cool.
    “Getting ready for bed. I just got back an
hour ago, and I’m exhausted.” She actually did sound tired.
    “Bedtime, eh.” He tried to invoke a mood of
passion. “And may I ask what you are wearing?”
    “Well,” her voice was soft. “It’s red. It’s
lacy. And, oh, it just came off.”
    His lips were suddenly dry. “Then I have a
suggestion.” He swallowed but couldn’t keep the huskiness from his
voice. “You really shouldn’t be alone in such a vulnerable state.
Perhaps I should come over.”
    The pause was almost deafening as his ears
strained for her response.
    “As good as that sounds, Marty, I really am
worn out. However, my girlfriend has loaned me her cottage for the
weekend. I was hoping you could call in sick tomorrow and we could
spend the next couple of days, and nights, together.”
    What was this? A cottage, chilled wine, and
three whole days to do the things he couldn’t stop thinking
about.
    “Sure!” His throat was so tight he could
hardly answer.
    “What?”
    “Sorry. I said, sure. When? What time?”
    “If I pick you up about three o’clock
tomorrow afternoon, that should give you plenty of time to rest
up.”
    Rest up. Right on.
    “And,” she added, “maybe there’ll be time for
a quickie before we hit the road.” Now she was sounding
throaty.
    “Hey, if you can fit me in,” he said
suggestively. “I can certainly fit you in.”
    There was another