Twelve hours later, Libby once again felt soft, hairy warmth against her cheek.
But this time she was wide awake. Flat on her back, nude. And the hair falling into her face undoubtedly belonged to a lover.
From the moment she'd agreed to come back to Sofie's tent at night, she'd known they'd end up this way. She wouldn't be able to resist. Because she'd been without Jonesy too long. She craved the sensation of gentle hands, lips, and tongue caressing her, exploring the mysteries of her body, bringing her slumbering passion back to life.
She craved something more than hands, lips, or tongue. But if the only alternative was the rough in-and-out sex of whoring, what Sofie could give her would have to do.
An' I'll only let it happen this once. I'm sorry, Ben! But I can't keep up no phony "friendship" with this bitch. Can't be with her at all without doin' this, an' I refuse to make a habit of it.
She tried to banish those thoughts from her mind, and take full advantage of these minutes in which Sofie was pleasuring her, keeping her own boobs and private parts to herself. Minutes in which she could fantasize, imagine herself back in Jonesy's embrace. Sofie's touch might be gentle, but her actual hands had been roughened by the hard physical work she'd done in recent months. They could so easily be a man's hands, be...
Damn! I want to imagine they're Jonesy's hands. So why do I keep thinkin' o' Ben?
She had no doubts as to which man she'd choose, if she had a choice. Clayton Jones was the love of her life. But he was dead, and she didn't want to forget him this quickly, and why oh why did she keep fantasizing about a guy who preferred someone old enough to be his grandma?
She knew she'd have to take a turn at fondling Sofie's breasts. And other parts of her.
Who will she be pretendin' I am? Jonesy? Ben?
God, this is sick.
No. Relax. Enjoy it while I can! 'Cause tonight's all there's gonna be. An' then, no more hands or lips or tongues. Ever.
Her eyes were open as her own lips parted to permit a deep, soul-stirring kiss. But the face she saw above her wasn't Sofie's.
Nor was it the face of Clayton Jones.
x
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x
When Sofie showed signs of wanting to roll over, Libby willingly complied.
Oh yeah, bitch. I'll get on top, kiss your tits, diddle with the parts where the sun don't shine. For a few minutes.
I want you to enjoy this too. 'Cause I hope you'll be lookin' forward to doin' it again an' again.
An' then you'll find out why I'm really here.
She got on top. And discovered that while she wasn't aroused by the sex acts she was performing, being on top was stimulating in itself.
With her pinned under me, it would be so easy to do more than I planned...
No, maybe it wouldn't. Not if Sofie had powers. And what would Ben think? He'd be furious.
So she settled for carrying out her plan, the plan she'd come up with as an excuse to justify returning to Sofie's tent. I'll at least find out one more thing for you, Ben. One way or the other.
She reached under the pillow, found the razor she'd covertly slipped under it while she was undressing. Then she grabbed Sofie's left hand and quickly drew the blade across her palm.
Sofie's blood was red.
Damn! She'd hoped that she'd be exposing something Sofie wanted to keep secret.
The action had been so sudden that it took Sofie several seconds to realize what had happened to her. Then she let out a screech, and began trying frantically to roll out from under her attacker.
Libby let her up, and rose herself, still brandishing the bloody razor. Calmly, she told Sofie, "I wish I could say, 'This is what it feels like to be betrayed by someone you love.' But you don't love me. I don't think you've ever loved no one.
"What I can say is, 'This is what it feels like to be betrayed by someone you thought was so desperate for a lay that she wouldn't see you for the repulsive slut you are.' "
Sofie backed away from her, with another wordless shriek. But then, as she began to recover from her shock, she looked at her bleeding hand and mumbled, "My God. I saw this in a vision, way back last year. So much has happened since then that I forgot..." She looked up at Libby. Wild-eyed, she demanded, "Why the hell did you cut me?"
Libby gave a malicious smile. "I came here on purpose to cut you. My daddy saw Justin Crowe's body in that cornfield, an' told me he had blue blood." Not havin' a friend in the place, she ain't likely to hear Ben's got it too. "Crowe's some kind o' demon. I figure you're a witch as well as a bitch, an' I wanted to know if you're a big-league enough witch to have blood like his. But I reckon you're just a li'l penny-ante witch!"
Sofie screamed again, this time in fury.
Libby was still smiling as she wiped the razor clean on Sofie's sheets and quickly pulled her dress on, stowing the razor in a pocket.
A white-faced Sofie strode to place herself between Libby and the tent flap. "I'm not any kind of witch. What I am is someone who was dumb enough to feel sorry for you and want to spare you. No more!" Eyes blazing, she proclaimed, "Here's the truth about your precious husband. It was me he loved. And in New Canaan, he proved it. He made passionate love to me for hours. Insisted on doing it then, in spite of the danger, 'cause he'd missed me so much he couldn't wait!"
Libby laughed in her face. "Sure he did. Was that before or after Crowe made you an archbishop?"
No way am I tellin' her I already knew. If I hadn't known, I'd be goin' to pieces - it wouldn't occur to me to doubt her. But bein' prepared, I can be cool as a cucumber, just pretend I don't believe her. Ain't no way she can prove it.
But Sofie wasn't rattled. "Laugh now," she said quietly. "You won't be doing it again any time soon.
" 'Cause, you see, I may not have thought I loved you - but I cared enough about you that I've been upset, for weeks, about a situation I'm in. Yesterday, I made up my mind that I'd find a way to end the 'situation.' For your sake, so you wouldn't be hurt.
"Now? The hell with you. You'll see the proof Jonesy and I made love in New Canaan...when I give birth to his baby!"
x
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x
And then it was Libby who screamed.