Angel Food and Devil Dogs (27 page)

I slowly rubbed Kathryn's left palm with my thumbs. I stretched her fingers and rubbed her wrist. I ran my fingers lightly over the back of her hand and then I finished by tracing a figure in her palm. Her lifeline and heart line were very strong.

"You're left-handed?" I asked.

"Uh huh, can you tell just by looking?"

"By looking and by feeling the muscles in your forearms." I was musing on the extraordinary advantages of having a left-handed lesbian lover. Really... think about it.

"Professional sleuth," she said, "although I think this should be your career."

"Massage therapist? Nope, I'll sleuth for almost anybody who can meet my price, but I'm very selective about whom I massage."

"Any woman would pay you to do this to her."

"I'm a better sleuth than I am a masseuse."

"I can only testify to your skill at massage. You've proved it. How do you show people you're good at being a detective?"

"Well..." I placed her left hand back down by her side and began on her right. I massaged her palm and each finger with firm caresses. "Well, Kathryn, one of the things that sleuths do is investigate... stalkers."

She blinked up at me, a smile played at the corners of her mouth and danced in her eyes. "Oh?"

"Uh huh," I continued to stroke her hand. She was feeling it throughout her body. I could tell. "You know, it's important for a detective to be trained in observation. Do you know what I observed on Wednesday night?"

"Tell me," she whispered.

"I observed three cars driving through the Mews while I was shoveling the snow. One was a Chrysler PT Cruiser, one was a Ford Focus... and one... was a blue and white BMW Mini Cooper, with a Maine license plate." I ran my fingers lightly over her palm in slow sensuous circles.

"Really?" she breathed, closing her eyes, savoring my touch.

"Yes, and as a matter of fact, I'm sure the woman driving the car saw me quite well, because her headlights shined in my face. I couldn't really see her, but she would certainly have known exactly whom she would meet, if she chose to go for a walk in the moonlight."

She closed her hand on mine. It was just a light squeeze. "You win," she laughed softly.

Not yet, I thought.

She seemed very relaxed. The windows to her soul were closed, but her lips were parted slightly. I came very close to kissing her right that second, but then she let go of my hand.

I took two cushions from the pile on the floor. I put one under her knees and one under her feet.

"What's this for?" she asked raising her head to look.

"I'm going to massage your feet now. Maybe do some reflexology."

"How did you learn how to do all this? Do you have formal training? You must."

"Some training, some experience, an artist's knowledge of anatomy, and a lot of empathy. I know what it's like to have body pain. I know where it comes from, and I know a few tricks to make it go away."

"Have you been hurt in the line of duty?" she asked raising her head again.

"Once or twice, but so have you, and this is about you, not me. Put your head down and relax or you'll mess up all the work I've already done," I said with mock severity.

"OK... no wait."

I stopped arranging the pillows and glanced up.

"Um, one thing... I'm very ticklish." It was a simple statement, but her voice was suggestive, causing me to look carefully at her face to gauge her expression. But her eyes were closed again.

I said deliberately, "I haven't noticed that so far."

"It's not a general sensitivity, it's... my feet. When my brothers wanted to force me to tell secrets, they would torture me by holding me down and using a feather on the soles of my feet." She still had her eyes closed as she told me this. I was glad she couldn't see my cheeks flush.

"Was that a turn-on for them?" I asked, as I lifted her legs and placed another pillow under her ankles.

She paused to think and then said, "Probably," with a little laugh.

"And... was it for you?" I asked slowly in a low voice.

She paused to consider even longer... she made a throat clearing noise, "Probably," she admitted softly.

"Hmm," I wasn't sure if she was cautioning me or trying to encourage something. "If you feel that I'm tickling you, tell me and I'll stop." I said as I put my hand on her right instep. I looked down. "Wow, these are some socks, are they cashmere?" They were black knit and incredibly soft.

"Yes, aren't they great? A student gave them to me as a present. I really love them."

"And they say there are no perks to teaching," I said. "Did this student know that she or he...?"

"She."

"Did she know that she was giving you a sensuous gift or was she just pawning off a dull holiday present from Aunt Gladys?" I was working gently on the soles of her feet now, stroking and kneading. It was having an effect on her. I could see a slight, almost imperceptible movement in her hips. Hey, I'm a detective. I notice these things. Especially at moments like this.

"...Um... I think the former. I think she knew... she... knew just what she was doing," Kathryn answered, having trouble concentrating on what she was saying. Her face was flushed.

"And did you get anything... else... from her?" It was my turn to be suggestive. I caressed the cashmere more slowly watching her reactions carefully.

"She... she... was one of my research assistants... and... um... ah... she did a lot of research... more than what the average student would do."

Kathryn lifted her head, opened her eyes and looked at me. I stopped for a moment and looked back. She went on, "I stay away from romantic involvement with students. Besides the impropriety, I'm not interested in women that young."

I eyed her steadily for a long moment. "Lie back down and relax," I commanded in a low voice. She closed her eyes and laid her head back on the pillow. I began working on the other foot. "Do you have a lot of students chasing after you?"

"I've heard the student's nickname for me is,
The Ice Queen
."

"Really? Do you think that's apt?" I said incredulously.

"Um... well... Kenny thinks I'm hot."

"He's not the only one," I said in a stage whisper.

"Hmm," she murmured.

I went back to gently massaging the sole of her foot. The movement in her body was more pronounced. She was losing herself in it, moving her hips rhythmically. She raised her hand to her throat and turned her head part way to the fire. The firelight flickered across her face. A flame was lighting in me too. She wasn't relaxed any more. Her stomach muscles were taut. The tendons in her neck were more pronounced. She surprised me and herself by suddenly arching her back off the pillows. She thrust her head back and opened her mouth for just an instant. She gave a quiet grunt followed by a small but audible gasp. These weren't huge dramatic movements, but they were totally visible to me and she knew it.

Well, well, well,
I thought,
that was interesting.
I rested her foot back on the pillow but continued to hold it gently. After she'd relaxed just a bit, I asked softly, "Do you want me to stop?"

She began making a sound that could only be characterized as purring. Her eyes studied mine. We held each other's gaze.

Frankly, I was pretty happy with the way things had turned out, but I'd vowed
no surprises
, and I was going to stick to it. If she wanted something more from me, it would have to be up to her. In fact, I wanted her to ask for it. I wanted her to make the move. I wanted her to tell me that she wanted me.

"How about if I do something else for a while? I'm going to touch your face, so I'll wash my hands first." I got up and went across the room to the kitchen sink. I'd done it to make her wait. I took my time. She turned on her side and watched me silently.

The contours of her body were silhouetted against the ever-changing flames in the fireplace. After what had just happened, I needed a minute to catch my breath but this alluring tableau did nothing to ease my breathing. On the platform in front of the fire, she seemed to be waiting for a ritual to begin. I dried my hands and went slowly back to her.

I sat down beside her as she shifted to her back. I reached down to rub her temples. She closed her eyes and her breathing slowed. I could see the muscles in her hips relax. I wondered if she was as wet as I was.

I traced the contours of her ears delicately, then stroked her throat more gently until my fingertips were just barely touching her. She was a beautiful sleek panther responding to my hands. She was making that noise that sounded like purring again and I was burning with desire. I traced my fingers over her forehead at her hairline, appreciating the elegant shape of her brow. Her expression was totally, radiantly relaxed. I stroked the rest of her face very lightly, following the outline of her eyes to her cheekbones and then her jaw. I ended the massage by touching her lips, just brushing across them several times with the soft pad of my thumb as my fingers caressed her cheek. She was lying very still.

"I'm done," I said quietly. "Is there anything... else you'd like me to do?"

She opened her eyes and searched my face. Momentarily her forehead showed creases of deep concentration. I just looked back into her eyes passively.

"Would you push on my shoulders again?"

"Sure," I said sliding closer to her and placing one hand on the front of each of her shoulders. I pressed each back in turn, then both at the same time. She watched me with her eyes wide open. She moaned a little, enjoying the pressure. And then there was that purring noise, an mmmmm sound.

I held her shoulders back for quite a while, like pinning her to the platform. It had an aggressive feel to it. She stared into my eyes as it was happening. I stared back. When I finally moved my hands away, she lifted her left arm to partly cover her eyes with her palm. I just sat beside her, watching her move, wondering what would happen next. It was hard to resist kissing her, in fact, I could barely control my breathing. My heart was pounding so hard I suspected she could hear it.

She moved her hand from her eyes and slipped it behind her head, propping herself up slightly. She said looking up at me with that half smile... "You have a lot of intimate knowledge of my body now. It's making this relationship a little uneven."

"Relationship," I repeated. I was silent and still. I just stayed where I was, looking deeply into her eyes, with just a hint of a smile.

She whispered, "You're going to make me beg, aren't you?"

I exhaled softly and slightly nodded my head. There were 24,000 cubic feet of space in the room, and every inch was full of the sexual tension between us, circling around us, drawing us together.

I said in a low voice, "You made the ground rules my dear, changing them... is up to you."

Finally after several long moments of searching my eyes she whispered, "All right then, I have another rule, which modifies the first two."

"Yes?"

"It has to be safe." She reached to touch my cheek and the dryer buzzer went off again. She pushed herself up a little and I shifted back. "I'll go and deal with that," she said sitting up. And then she was out of the room, gone from between my arms. The moment seemed lost. I wasn't sure what she'd meant exactly. I felt a wave of dismay. Have I mentioned that I had a nagging pain between my legs? I sat on the edge of the platform waiting, hoping for her to come back.

"Maggie," she called after a few minutes, it was the first time she'd used my first name.

"Yeah?"

"Would you come here?"

She was standing in the dark bedroom next to the window looking out at the Mews. I could see her only by the moonlight streaming through the glass.

"Show me where the river is."

I came up beside her. I could smell her scent. It wasn't just Chanel anymore, it was desire, and it was coming from me too. The moonlight shimmered in her eyes.

"You can just see a corner of it... over there." I pointed to a space between the Hampshire and Dakota.

She looked at the little piece of the river that showed through the trees. Then she turned toward me and said in a voice that was mostly whisper and sigh, "Do you seduce all your women by giving them wonderful massages like that?"

It doesn't always work
, would have been the most accurate thing to say, but instead I answered, "I don't know yet."

She faced me for what seemed like an age, but what was probably a second. She took a breath, then she made a soft demand, "Undress me."

That's something you'll be remembering for the rest of your life,
flashed through my mind. I hadn't expected anything so specific. My legs almost gave way. I reached for the top button of her shirt. My hands were trembling. I undid two. She put her hand on the back of my neck and pulled me toward her for a long passionate kiss. Her lips were deliciously soft. She tasted wonderful, like everything I'd ever wanted.

Yeah, this is going really well, I thought to myself and that was the last coherent thought I had.

I had all her buttons undone. I moved the shirt off her shoulders and slid it down her arms. She let me undo her bra without helping at all. Her breasts were firm and perfect and I longed to touch them but I held back for just a while longer. Her skin was more tempting than I could have imagined. I unzipped her jeans and gently pushed her back a step to the edge of the bed. I looked down at her body and couldn't keep from saying, "Wow," as I pulled her jeans and underwear down and she stepped out of them.

I said, "Are you finally going to touch
me
now?"

"Yes... and I'm good at it," she said confidently.

"I like a woman who's sure of her skills," I whispered.

I'd testify in front of a grand jury that Dr. Kathryn Anthony was no ice queen! That woman was hotter than a branding iron, a 400 amp service and a handful of habanero peppers rolled into one. And she was more than accurate when she said she was
good at it
. Damn, that was an understatement!

Kathryn had done some things to me that I hadn't actually believed possible. Once I had her undressed, she'd pushed me onto the bed and had my clothes off in no time.