The Flesh of The Orchid by James Hadley Chase Page B

pillow. She looked very beautiful with the moonlight falling directly on her face, and as he came in she opened her eyes. She didn’t seem alarmed. Her eyes were wide but serene.
    “Hello, kid,” Roy said. His tongue felt a little too big for his mouth and his skin was feverish. “I’ve come to keep you company.”
    She didn’t say anything but watched him cross the room, her eyes on his.
    “You’re not scared of me, are you?” he asked. Her beauty made him shiver.
    “Oh, no,” she said quietly. “I thought you would come tonight. I’ve been dreaming about you.”
    Roy started.
    “You mean you wanted me to come ?” he asked, sitting on the bed by her side.
    She looked gravely up at him.
    “I felt your eyes on me all this evening. Wherever I went you watched me. I felt you’d come tonight.”
    Roy grinned.
    “And I’ve thought about you all day, too,” he said, put his hand on hers. Her hand was warm and limp, unresisting. “I wanted to kiss you again.”
    “Steve doesn’t want you to do that.”
    “Steve won’t know. He’s asleep. You liked it, didn’t you?”
    His face was close to hers now and his hand touched her breasts. She didn’t flinch, but stared at him abstractedly. “Undo that,” he went on, touching the buttons on the silk jacket. “Come on, Carol, come on. I’m not going to hurt you.”
    The girl mechanically, to his astonishment, undid the pyjama buttons, and he touched her bare skin.
    “You’re beautiful, kid,” he said, not knowing quite what he was saying. “You’re lovely,” and his hands covered her breasts.
    There was a blank fixed look in her eyes and she seemed to listen only vaguely to what he said.
    His hands moved round her back and he lifted her. And then suddenly she gave a soft metallic little laugh that startled him.
    “What’s so funny in this?” he asked, angry, and hungrily crushed his mouth down on hers.
    For a brief moment she lay motionless in his arms, then her arms, like steel bands, slid round his neck and gripped the back of his neck and shoulders and her teeth sank into his lips.
    In the other room Steve woke suddenly. One moment he was asleep, the next wide awake and sitting up, staring round the room, a startled, puzzled expression on his face.
    “What woke me like that?” he wondered, looked across at Roy’s bed, which was in the darkest part of the room. He thought he could make out Roy’s outline, looked at the window. Was Carol out there again? Was that why he had awakened so suddenly?
    He got out of bed, went to the window. There was no one on the verandah. He could see Spot down by the outhouses. The dog was looking towards the cabin, but it made no sound.
    Steve shook his head, yawned, turned back to bed.
    “Guess I was dreaming,” he thought, then something prompted him to go over to Roy’s bed: it was empty. Instantly he thought of Carol, ran to the door.
    A wild, agonized scream rang through the cabin. There was a moment’s silence, then a sobbing, croaking voice yelled: “Steve! Quick! Help me!”
    The hair on Steve’s neck bristled at the sound of Roy’s voice, and he flung open the door, stepped into the passage.
    Roy was coming towards him, bent double, his hands hiding his face. Blood ran between his fingers, dripped on to the floor.
    “What’s happened?” Steve gasped, standing frozen.
    “It’s my eyes!” Roy sobbed. “She’s blinded me! Help me! For God’s sake, do something!”
    Steve caught hold of him.
    “What have you done to her?” he cried, pushed the groaning man aside and ran into Carol’s room. The room was empty. He ran to the window and came to an abrupt stop.
    Carol was standing on the top verandah step looking towards him. She was naked to the waist, and her eyes glowed like cat’s eyes in the moonlight.
    He stood transfixed. He had never seen a wilder, more beautiful creature as the one he looked at now. Her red hair, gleaming like beaten bronze in the white light of the moon; the