After six days, and six letters, Iris drove up to Mort's house just as night was drawing in. She looked in the window to see him asleep on the couch. She went into the garden and wandered about, admiring the work she had done. Time passed, and Mort came out to join her; he was dressed in jeans and a green t-shirt.
Iris gasped as he seized hold of her waist, pulled her against him and pushed his mouth down hard on hers. His hands groped cruelly at her curves, reached between her legs, tore at her clothes, forced her against the wall of the house. His lips snapped at the flesh of her neck, his fingers dug inside of her, brutal and shameless.
"You're hurting me," she said.
He covered her mouth with his hand, the fingers of his other hand still inside her. He was fast and ruthless, but still her body responded. She felt the rush of hot waves, banishing all inhibition, so that she found her brain screaming out for more; never stop, never let go, you can do what ever you want to me, I'm yours. Then it was over, and she was giddy, and her legs felt shaky, giving out beneath her.
Mort let go, and she slide to the ground, crawling away on hands and knees. Then he was behind her, unzipped, mounting her in an animalistic frenzy. She listened to him grunt and groan, over and over again; one hand gripping her breast, the other tangled in her hair, pulling at it until she whimpered.
When he was finished, Iris lay curled up on the grass listening to him panting. She looked at him; he was sprawled out on the ground, his eyes shut, one hand resting on his chest, as it rose and fell rapidly, the other was pressed to his forehead.
"I warned you not to come back here," he said in a slurred mumble.
Iris moved over to lay beside him, wrapped her arms around him; he opened his eyes, turned his head towards her.
"Why are you doing this?" He said. "Why do you keep haunting me?"
"We're meant to be together," she said.
She stroked his hair, and then traced the lip of his mouth with her finger.
"You must see that, you must have felt it when we made love."
"That wasn't making love," he laughed.
"Oh Mort, why do you keep resisting this. Why can't you just except it. I know that Amy…"
"Don't you say her name!" he warned.
"Oh Mort," she said again. "She hurt you so much, didn't she? And now you have to deal with all the rumours, all the gossip."
Mort got to his feet and zipped himself up.
"Get dressed," he said. "Then go away."
Iris stood up, threw her arms around his shoulders and kissed at his lips. He kissed back but then pushed her away. She went at him again, and again he kissed her, then pushed her away, this time shouting; "No!" She watched as he stretched his jaw in an alarming fashion.
"I believe you, trust you!" She said. "I love you."
"Fuck off!" He shouted.
"No, Mort!" She grabbed at him. "Please! I'll do anything!"
He had picked up the spade now, the one she had seen in the garden earlier, and he used it to try and warn her off.
"Mort, I need you, we're supposed to be together."
"Listen you stupid bitch," he said. "I don't want you, need you and I certainly don't love you." His jaw stretched again, and then he smiled.
"I know you had nothing to do with her disappearance," Iris said.
"Yes I did!" he said, the twisted smile playing on his lips.
"Then I forgive you," Iris cried out; none of it mattered, she just wanted to be with him.
"I killed her," Mort said.
"I forgive you," Iris said again.
"Listen to me, bitch! I killed her, and now I'm gonna kill you."
Iris ducked as he swung the spade at her head. She threw her body against him, and they both tumbled to the ground. He lost his grip on the spade and she straddled his waist, slapping him hard across the face, three times. He struggled, bucking his body as he tried to throw her off. His hips rolled, over and over again, and she felt the familiar excitement rise up between them.
His hands reached out to squeeze her. She unzipped his pants and pushed herself down around him, grinding her hips against his. She came twice, and when he came, he stretched his jaw as he had before, then lay panting, his hands roaming across her skin. She smiled as she watched him admiring her body in the moonlight, his fingertips fluttering across her flesh. His hands ran down her back, around her buttocks, and he gave five steady, stinging smacks. He grinned, his arms fell back into the grass above his head, she felt his body relax, and he closed his eyes. She picked up the spade and hit him in the head, twice, to make sure he was out cold.