after the day’s events and found himself starting to fall face forward into one of the graves
he had just helped dig. But hands reached out and caught him, and the next thing he knew, he was walking back toward the main
house with LuAnn supporting him around her shoulder. She was looking into his eyes as he opened them, and he almost blushed
from the intensity of the stare.
“Sorry, I must have blacked out for a moment,” Stone said, trying to walk on his own for a moment. But finding that he had
hardly any strength in his legs, he allowed her to help. He hated feeling so helpless. But all things taken into account,
he was lucky he still had legs to stand on, considering how easily those heads had been detached from their owners. Flesh
was so soft. Only those who killed, who sliced or cut human flesh knew its softness. It was like veal, tender spring calf—a
single cut dug deep.
“Oh, Pa can work you hard, let me tell you.” LuAnn laughed, and again Stone felt a surge of energy stream through him, and
a at in his stomach at the way her lips moved, the way they were covered with a sheet of moisture. “Half of us fall asleep
when we hit our beds and don’t wake up till the morning wake-up gong. Undertaker don’t like dawdlers. He says you got plenty
of time to be lazy when you’re dead, but when you’re alive, move your ass.”
“He’s got a point there,” Stone replied, raising one side of his mouth in something approximating a smile. “Man knows his
damn business, I’ll tell you that,” Stone said, liking the feel of her warm body right alongside him. Then they were at the
house, the crickets chirping hard in the darkness, the moths flying into the screen door trying to reach the light of the
burning oil lamps inside, occasionally finding the rips in the screens and succeeding in their fiery suicides. LuAnn led Stone
up the creaking wood steps to the attic and into the bedroom, where she sat him down on the bed and he fell backward immediately,
like a log ready for the paper mill.
“I’ll get these off,” she said, pulling off his dirt-caked boots from the digging. Then his pants. Then, before he could muster
the energy to protest, everything. “Just let me wash off the old coating of herbal ointment and put on a new one,” she said
firmly as she went across the room and came back with a sponge and a bucket of water. Stone started to protest, not even sure
why, and then just shut his mouth and enjoyed it. It felt good when she pulled the warm sponge across him, up and down his
chest and stomach, and then lower. But not quite as good when she slopped handfuls of the white ointment onto him and spread
it around like fingerpaint over every square inch of him. Then she toweled the whole sticky mess off and finally pulled the
blankets up over his now once again white-coated physique.
“Thanks,” Stone said softly. “Thanks for all you—”
“Oh, hush up,” she said, putting her hand over his mouth. “You say thanks more than any man I ever met. Just what any good
neighbor would do for another.”
“Yeah, right,” Stone said bitterly, knowing that was not quite the way it was. She rose and walked to the center of the room
where an oil lamp was burning out a smoky light. She turned it down until it was just a tab of flame, emitting a tiny golden
halo that throbbed out onto the walls.
Then before Stone knew it, just as he began slipping into dreams, seeing shapes in the weaving shadows created by the flickering
oil flame, she was alongside him. And she was naked too. He could feel her hot flesh like a live wire suddenly touching him
all along one side.
“LuAnn,” said Stone in the near darkness.
“It’s okay,” her voice answered back like silk. “It’s part of the cure.” With that she reached down and began stroking him
along the leg, then the stomach. Within seconds she began moving faster, and Stone could hear little groans of
he had just helped dig. But hands reached out and caught him, and the next thing he knew, he was walking back toward the main
house with LuAnn supporting him around her shoulder. She was looking into his eyes as he opened them, and he almost blushed
from the intensity of the stare.
“Sorry, I must have blacked out for a moment,” Stone said, trying to walk on his own for a moment. But finding that he had
hardly any strength in his legs, he allowed her to help. He hated feeling so helpless. But all things taken into account,
he was lucky he still had legs to stand on, considering how easily those heads had been detached from their owners. Flesh
was so soft. Only those who killed, who sliced or cut human flesh knew its softness. It was like veal, tender spring calf—a
single cut dug deep.
“Oh, Pa can work you hard, let me tell you.” LuAnn laughed, and again Stone felt a surge of energy stream through him, and
a at in his stomach at the way her lips moved, the way they were covered with a sheet of moisture. “Half of us fall asleep
when we hit our beds and don’t wake up till the morning wake-up gong. Undertaker don’t like dawdlers. He says you got plenty
of time to be lazy when you’re dead, but when you’re alive, move your ass.”
“He’s got a point there,” Stone replied, raising one side of his mouth in something approximating a smile. “Man knows his
damn business, I’ll tell you that,” Stone said, liking the feel of her warm body right alongside him. Then they were at the
house, the crickets chirping hard in the darkness, the moths flying into the screen door trying to reach the light of the
burning oil lamps inside, occasionally finding the rips in the screens and succeeding in their fiery suicides. LuAnn led Stone
up the creaking wood steps to the attic and into the bedroom, where she sat him down on the bed and he fell backward immediately,
like a log ready for the paper mill.
“I’ll get these off,” she said, pulling off his dirt-caked boots from the digging. Then his pants. Then, before he could muster
the energy to protest, everything. “Just let me wash off the old coating of herbal ointment and put on a new one,” she said
firmly as she went across the room and came back with a sponge and a bucket of water. Stone started to protest, not even sure
why, and then just shut his mouth and enjoyed it. It felt good when she pulled the warm sponge across him, up and down his
chest and stomach, and then lower. But not quite as good when she slopped handfuls of the white ointment onto him and spread
it around like fingerpaint over every square inch of him. Then she toweled the whole sticky mess off and finally pulled the
blankets up over his now once again white-coated physique.
“Thanks,” Stone said softly. “Thanks for all you—”
“Oh, hush up,” she said, putting her hand over his mouth. “You say thanks more than any man I ever met. Just what any good
neighbor would do for another.”
“Yeah, right,” Stone said bitterly, knowing that was not quite the way it was. She rose and walked to the center of the room
where an oil lamp was burning out a smoky light. She turned it down until it was just a tab of flame, emitting a tiny golden
halo that throbbed out onto the walls.
Then before Stone knew it, just as he began slipping into dreams, seeing shapes in the weaving shadows created by the flickering
oil flame, she was alongside him. And she was naked too. He could feel her hot flesh like a live wire suddenly touching him
all along one side.
“LuAnn,” said Stone in the near darkness.
“It’s okay,” her voice answered back like silk. “It’s part of the cure.” With that she reached down and began stroking him
along the leg, then the stomach. Within seconds she began moving faster, and Stone could hear little groans of
Similar Books
