Or, A Collaboration Is In Order by S.R. Torris (and others)
Happy New Year! It’s still January so I can say that, can’t I? Besides, I haven’t spoken with you good people since last year.
Resolutions? I have none – only destinations. I figure resolutions have already been broken, or will be by next month. However, if you plan a trip, whatever or where ever that trip may be you usually make it there. There are voices calling me to join them in adventure and chronicle the journey as we go. If I resolve to do so I can assure you, you won’t hear a thing about it. But when a trip has pit stops one usually gets a-chattering to anybody who’ll listen.
Which brings me to my first pit stop of the year.
A loosely sane gentleman (he’s a writer and he’d have to concur that most of us are loosely sane) heard the voices that reside in his head talking a lot louder than usual – he decided to share what was said. The result was the first chapter of this as yet, untitled story. The thing is when they quieted down to a more respectable level all he was left with was this one chapter. Not being the selfish kind of guy, he offered his lone chapter and handed out an invitation to his lunacy. I accepted.
I got sucked in folks and I must admit it was intoxicating. What is unfortunate is I’ve left myself in a bind – there’s only his chapter and my chapter and I’m eager to see how the story progresses.
So I’m sending out the dots and dashes, as it were, requesting immediate assistance. Please contribute to this story; take it on twists and turns, make me love its characters, then hate them, and love them all over again. Answer the question, who is The Walker? Is there a nemesis or is The Walker the ultimate nemesis? Let’s do some crazy stuff with this and my loosely sane friend may even podcast it on New Fiction Writers.com. Now there’s something to look forward to.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you in all its incomplete glory, as yet an untitled story.
Chapter 1 Contributed by A Loosely Sane Gentleman:
“Nothing could be farther from the truth,” he said as he reached down and opened the car door.
She stepped into the car, a flash of thigh and the black band at the top of her silk stocking exciting his senses. He walked around to the driver’s side, got in, and closing the door turned in the leather seat to face her.
“I’m simply stating the obvious,” he continued. “If you choose to ignore the fact that he was trying to seduce you, that’s up to you. Jesus, Linda he was looking down the front of your shirt the whole night. Believe me, I know what he was doing.”
He looked in the rear view mirror scowling at the lights shining through the rear glass and reflecting in his face. Starting the car, he pulled into traffic and switched on the radio, Bach’s concerto for two violins in D minor filling the interior of the Mercedes with a sense of urgency. She turned to look at the side of his head, his profile, lit up by the passing cars seemed oddly larger than usual as if his head were swelling with anger.
“David,” she said, “he is ten years younger than me, with a beautiful wife and two lovely children. Why would he be interested in me?”
“Why would he be interested in you?”
“Yes, and why do you always answer a question with a question?” she said.
He turned to look at her, slowing at the stoplight. Cars filled the road ahead gleaming under the lights of the Avenue. The rain had stopped for the night but each car glistened from the shower like sparkling jeweled carriages, conveying the wealthy around them to the elegant restaurants and hotels of Fifth Avenue. He put his hand on her leg and slowly slid her skirt up her thigh, looking at her legs. She stopped his hand and he looked into her eyes, always amazed by the iridescent green.
“Because my dear, you are beautiful, rich, and smoking hot, with the body of a twenty year old gymnast – just to name a few reasons.” He leaned over and whispered in her ear. “And when I get you home I’m going to teach you a lesson for being such a naughty girl, allowing him to look down the front of your dress all night.” She turned her head and glanced at the people walking by on the sidewalk. His hand began to rise up her thigh, briefly touching the edge of her panties and he leaned down and kissed the tops of her breasts.
“David, what’s gotten into you? Someone will see you.” She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her thighs vibrating with anticipation, wanting him to force his hand between her thighs. It was hot in the car and the underwire in her bra was beginning to cut into her chest.
She suddenly wanted to take it off and throw it out of the window and ride the rest of the way home without her shirt. She wanted to roll down the window and feel the night air on her breasts. She shifted her legs, a subtle invitation. His hand moved down lighting caressing her inner thigh, moving slowly up and down, his fingers sliding beneath the silk, her quiet moans and the shifting of her hips encouraging him to continue.
The cars ahead of them began to move and the driver in the car behind them blew his horn impatiently. David lifted his head from her chest, his hair sticking up in spikes made him look as though horns were sprouting from his head. His cell phone rang and he sat up straight adjusting himself and pushed the button on the steering wheel to activate the call.
A frightened voice immediately began to speak, “Is this David?”
“Yes. Who is this?”
He looked at his date and then back at the road ahead. Where had he heard that voice?
“Is this David Reardon? The David Reardon who lived in Virginia Beach? On W, W, West Grove Road?”
“Yes, yes it is. Where did you get this number?”
“You need to come quick, there’s been an accident.”
“An accident. What do you mean an accident? Who’s been in an accident? Who is this?”
His date touched him on his shoulder and pointed to the window beside him. As he turned to look, he felt a sharp stab in the back of his neck as though a needle had been—but why would a needle…?
The darkness fell instantly.
Chapter 2 Contributed by S.R. Torris:
David found himself standing on the beach, watching the waves caress his ankles while he wriggled his toes further into the wet sand. He inhaled as deep as he could, taking in all of the ocean air; it was part of his meditation – the other part involved casual glances at the heavenly bodies that flocked to shore the first sign of warm weather.
“You always had a penchant for those brown girls with thick thighs, Davey,” his friend LJ would say.
It wasn’t like busloads of “brown girls with thick thighs” flocked to that part of Virginia Beach during what he liked to call, “First Season” but when they did, David noticed. He saw the blondes and brunettes, spreading out blankets, lathering themselves with all manner of SPFs and other letters and numbers he had a hard time remembering; David just wanted to enjoy the sights.
He paid particular attention to a beautiful pair of thighs that flowed up to a green colored bikini. He hoped those thighs would venture out in the water and the waves would whisk the bright green fabric out to sea.
David smiled at the notion and caught Green Bikini’s attention. She looked like she was gliding across the sand as she strolled toward him.
“Hello, Blondie. Is there something on this beach I can help you with?” she asked, flashing a beautiful smile. David was close enough to notice the striking green color that also flowed through her irises. It made her bronze skin ethereal and he knew he was going to have Green Bikini’s number before this glorious day would end.
Her unabashed behavior only emboldened him and before David could catch himself he’d answered, “You can introduce me to your bikini since she’s the one who is talking right now.”
“You don’t say,” she answered, hand on her hip, still flashing her brilliant smile, iridescent eyes sparkling in the sun.
David couldn’t help but smile back at her as she looked up in his beach-tanned face. He gave his best debonair stare, the one that worked on all the girls, but she wasn’t folding.
He suddenly became conscious as he drank in her lithe figure. He hoped it wasn’t obvious that his eyes lingered over her ample breasts; and he hoped his body wouldn’t betray him, especially not on the beach. He wasn’t deep enough in the water for it not to matter and a sudden sprint to the ocean would brand him an idiot in Green Bikini’s eyes, dousing all hope of acquiring her number. What a shame it would be if he couldn’t sample those thighs.
“You will have to ask her yourself,” she said saving David from his thoughts. “And my name is Berlinda, just in case you want to continue your conversation with me.”
“Yes, my mother thought it would be nice to give me the name of an old spinster,” she said with a chuckle.
“An old spinster?”
“Yes. Do you always answer a question with a question? Anyway, you can call me ‘Linda’ and we will be just fine. Do you have a name, Blondie?”
“David Reardon,” he said extending his hand. “Linda? You say your name is Linda?”
David felt woozy. The beach turned dark and the calm waters began to roil.
“He – he was looking down your shirt,” David said as a huge dark wave came on the beach and washed him away.
He heard the loud noise of a bag crumpling and then what followed, the annoying, “CRUNCH! CRUNCH! CRUN- CRUN- CRUNCH!” brought him back to his senses. David wasn’t on the warm beaches of Virginia. In fact, he wasn’t on a warm anything. He felt the cold draft of an empty warehouse and realized he was on its cement floor.
“Berlinda. ‘Linda’ is what they call you. I knew we had a previous acquaintance,” David said trying to sit up. His head was throbbing.
“It’s those thick thighs, Davey. Never could resist them.”
CRUNCH! CRUNCH! CRUN! CRUN!
“And you’re still annoying, LJ. I should have recognized your pretty green eyes, Berlinda. It wasn’t that long ago,” David said coming out of his fog.
“Actually it was and flattery won’t get you anywhere this time, my man. And you ain’t leavin’ us out here to dry, neither,” LJ replied.
David looked at Linda and noticed for the first time that she was nervous. Had she been that way all night?
“Et tu, Linda?” he asked glaring at her.
“This is serious, Davey!” LJ steamed.
“What’s his problem?” David said without taking his eyes off Linda.
“He’s in town, David. The Walker.”