More Deaths Than One by Pat Bertram

again she jabbed him with a finger, and again the immediacy
passed.
    She played with his nipples, soft bites and
gentle scratches, acting as if she had all the time in the world.
She turned her attention to his belly and finally to his
crotch.
    He lay there passively while she stoked his
desire to a red-hot electric glow, igniting erogenous zones he
didn’t even know existed.
    After one more painful poke, she climbed on
top of him. She rode him steadily until he exploded with an orgasm
so great he felt as if he had shattered into a million pieces.
    Through it all, the woman never stopped
moving. Still sensitized, he could feel himself grow hard again
immediately.
    He fell asleep for a few moments while she
rode him, and he had the most wonderful dream of everlasting sex.
His orgasm awakened him. This time it didn’t come as a shattering
explosion, but like surf crashing on the shore—warm, sweet waves of
bliss that she managed to keep ebbing and flowing for so long he
finally passed out from sheer exhaustion.
    When he awoke, he gazed at the angular
Chinese woman lying next to him. She smiled at him, not erotically
as would be expected from such an accomplished courtesan, but
innocently, almost mis-chievously, like a young girl. Looking at
her, he could not believe that for even a second he had considered
her plain—she was beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful woman he
had ever seen.
    ***
    The sudden scream from the Denver woman
bucking wildly beneath Bob brought him out of his trance. He
erupted; the woman screamed once more. They collapsed and lay
still.
    Later they came together again and yet again
before they arose in the morning. While she dressed, she kept
staring at him. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed
it.
    She left without saying anything.

Chapter 6
     
    Bob looked at the address he had written on a
scrap of paper, then at the group of buildings. Sperling Plaza, the
sign said.
    His brother lived in a downtown office
complex? He checked the address again. According to the phone book,
his brother did live here somewhere.
    As he ambled about the plaza looking for his
brother’s building, he came across the sales office with publicity
stills of the sales representatives in the window. Although the men
and women all looked alike—smug, arrogant, prosperous—one face
jumped out at him. The nameplate under the photograph confirmed it
was his brother.
    He went inside. The receptionist talking on
the phone didn’t look up as he strode past her. He saw an office
door with Jackson’s name on it, but found it locked.
    When Bob left the building, he heard a man’s
overloud laugh. He turned his head to see his brother talking to a
well-dressed couple in their thirties.
    “You’re going to love it here,” Jackson said,
clapping the man on the back and winking at the woman. “I myself
live in one of the condos, and I couldn’t be happier. Close
proximity to great restaurants, theaters, museums, and shopping, to
say nothing of the fabulous views—what more could a successful
young couple like you want?”
    Bob shook his head, thinking his brother
still acted like a charmer—a snake charmer. He wondered if the
prospective customers were aware of the cool calculating look in
Jackson’s eyes, or if they only noticed the wide smile, the bright
teeth, the too effusive personality.
    As if he heard Bob’s thoughts, Jackson
absently glanced his way, but didn’t seem to notice him.
    ***
    “I thought you left town,” Kerry said,
bringing Bob his hot chocolate. “I haven’t seen you in here for a
few days.” Putting her hands on her hips, she frowned at him. “You
look different.”
    Bob stirred his drink, watching the swirls of
whipped cream disappear into the chocolate.
    Kerry sat across from him, folded her arms on
the table, and leaned forward. “You’ve discovered something.”
    “Maybe.” He told her about going to the VA,
and how his records indicated that he had no left foot.
    “Robert