Unpardonable Sin -9

1

Chapter 52

It was nearing quarter to eight when a grownup Andrea Nelson drove into the parking lot at the rear of the Hideaway. The restaurant was well known for its atmosphere, its secluded tables, and its delicious if over-priced cuisine. There were only about a dozen cars in the lot and she had no way of knowing if one was Thomas Devlin's. Even though it was cold and rainy, Andrea had kept the air conditioning going in the car. Her nerves often made her sweat but now she was shivering. What the hell, if he hadn’t shown up, she’d have dinner... That was stupid idea. She could see herself sitting alone in a restaurant-- feeling like an ass. The pit of her stomach formed an acid ball as she hurried inside.3

She smiled at the Maitre d’. His return smile was friendly and she wondered if he recognized her. She and John often had dinner here. She said, "I'm meeting a Mr. Devlin."4

His answer made Andrea relax. "Of course, right this way." 5

“Well, Mr. Thomas Devlin." Andrea slurred as she relinquished her raincoat to the Maitre d'. She slid into the booth across from the man and enjoyed the smile surfacing on his mouth. "You are real? I was beginning to believe you were conjured up." 6

"I'm sorry." Devlin slipped his fingers through the lock of hair that fell on his forehead. "The office has a policy of no personal calls."7

"And no messages?" Andrea was about to question how the secretary knew they were personal calls, then decided it wasn't worth it. "I did leave messages."8

“Of course, I received them and planned to get back to you. But it has been a rough few days . . ." 9

"I know," Andrea interrupted. "You've been sooo busy . . . you've been working overtime and there's no phones . . ." She gave a sharp quick laugh. "Can it boy. How did you manage to drag yourself down here?"10

"I got my priorities. When the inks still not dry on your certification the request of a judge is a royal command. That really wasn't your daddy?" He wrinkled his brow as he squinted then grinned.11

Andrea saw the waiter approaching. She reached over and took Devlin’s glass. "What are you drinking?" 12

"Irish whiskey."13

Andrea slowly ran the tip of her tongue around the rim of his glass then retracted it into her mouth and made a grimace.14

"An acquired taste." 15

"That would take years. I'll settle for a chardonnay." She smiled up at the waiter as she pushed Devlin's glass back.16

"So what's this great weekend you have planned?" 17

"Not really a big deal. I have the keys to the Connors' summerhouse. I hear John and Catherine with their brood are off for England. The old folks don't come down until well into June. So why waste the atmosphere. If you get bored we are only a few minutes away from Atlantic City."18

"Sure, lass, I figured you weren't about to let me get bored." His hand closed over hers. His lips split in a teasing grin as the light gray eyes picked up shine from the burning candle.19

Andrea bit her lower lip to prevent years of maturity deserting her and permitting a giggle to pop from her mouth. 20

***21

The slight reprieve from the storm hadn’t lasted long. They barely made it inside when it rolled back over the island, a raging demon, spitting its violence on a puny foe. 22

The lightening coming through the patio doors highlighted Andrea. Flash after flash captured her like a strobe light gone crazy, but there was nothing herky-jerky in her movements. Fluid as a dancer, aquiline and nimble, her limbs seemed to move like an assemblage of random parts. The raincoat was gone, he hadn’t actual seen her take it off only caught the movement of the air as it sailed by. Her arms lifted and her back arched, while the long hair floated with sliver streaks darting about in its thick dark pond. Lightening tinted the peach color of her dress a paler hue as it slid down her body to pool around her feet. She stepped out of it, kicked off her shoes, and stood like fine porcelain statue demanding adoration.23

Her actions were unexpected and Thomas felt a lump caused by nervousness form in his chest. Okay, the physical thing, great, but like this. He hadn’t screwed a lot of broads and never had one subjected him to a striptease before he had his coat off. Even Shelia expected a prelude to the pump and groan connection. Since those cute little hard-ons, his mother kidded him about, though all the embarrassing adolescent and uncomfortable teenage years, he has struggled to control his reaction to an attractive female. Here he’d spent a good part of his life with his damn prick poking him with hardly any encouragement, shit it greeted him fully erect every morning, only now. The blasted thing had shrunk up. A shy little bastard it was hidden away in his groin trembling.24

Andrea hadn’t uttered a word since they came through the door. Now, as she tossed her head forward the dark hair fell across her face while she unhooked her bra. The flimsy pink material hung from one thin strap on her arm. The round globes sat high on her chests, purple nipples pointed and coaxing. She laughed. Thick and rich with saliva the sounds came tauntingly from her throat. She let the strap slip from her arm and then she cupped her breasts with long slender fingers. Holding them upward, she began to massage the already swollen nipples. “Hit the switch,” she said. “I feel like I’m alone in this room.”25

“Maybe you should pull the blinds first.” He tried to sound casual. The words came out of his dry throat like a hoarse gasp. He turned his back to her as he hunted the light switch. The brightness momentarily blinded him. 26

She came up behind and tugged at the back of his coat. “You’re not playing fair,” she snickered. “Here I’m preparing the feast and you’re withholding the hors d'oeuvre.” 27

(cut here) For those interested to find out what happened when the curtain fell, read ‘Switching Places’28

A chilling breeze blew off the Atlantic onto the coast of New Jersey. Sea gulls shrieked as they circled above in the bright early morning sky. Thomas Devlin rubbed at his eyes that were stinging from lack of sleep and left over intoxicants. He was freezing. He dragged himself up out of the wet sand. He attempted to rub some of the clinging grit from his naked body. He stared down at his partner in crime and shook his head in disbelief. This broad was fucking nuts. 29

Andrea Nelson was sprawled on her belly, her legs half buried in the wet sand. Her head was turned slightly while her face remained hidden beneath a carelessly flung arm and piles of soaking wet hair. The darkness of her skin blended into the darkness of the wet blanket of sand so there were no distinct breaks. She’d finally fallen asleep or passed out. The second was more likely, he decided. 30

Thank god, he almost said aloud. Then caught himself. Hell, he might wake her up. He grabbed a beach towel to wrap around his waist. It was slimy wet and made him colder. Still, he couldn’t parade bare-assed up to the house. Angrily, he slapped at his chest and arms trying to restore some heat to his frozen flesh. Had they really come running down here with nothing on but towels? He glanced around to convince himself.31

Their nonsense had turned crazy last night. They’d been totally whacked out. He took the other towel and carefully spread it over the sleeping Andrea. Last thing he needed was to waken her. With any luck, he’d be showered and dressed and ready to leave before she revived. He backed quietly away on the balls of his feet until he was certain nothing would disturb her and then he was running for the house.32

A dull ache poked where his skull met his spine and traveled the length to the top of his head. His mind worked at forming excuses to himself. Two frigging days and three nights. What the hell did she think he was a machine? Christ if Connors kept up with her, he must be a fucking ape. John probably had ten years on him. The sour taste in his mouth gagged him. Tommy, lad, you’re outclassed. Here you are in John Connors’ house, with John Connors’ broad, in John Connors’ bed and ya can’t hack it.33

He made his way through the house and up to master bedroom they’d been sharing. Quickly in the shower, he let the water run on full hot trying to warm his flesh. He sucked and swished mouthwash over and over. Who in hell screws in the pouring rain, probably forty degrees out, with thunder and lighting raging around you. Certified nut cases with a death wish--that’s who. Jesus! 34

He gingerly touched several red bruises in conspicuous areas of his body. What in hell! She tried to devourer him? He couldn’t remember her actually biting him. But those were teeth marks on his chest and belly sure as shitting. He hoped she didn’t draw blood. He felt a stinging on his back and hurried through the rest of his washing to check it out in the wall mirror. Rosy fingernail streaks overlapped one another on his back. No blood. He thanked God. Lady you can leave messages until they filled the office. One time around with a tiger is enough for this lad. 35

By seven he was in the kitchen. Unable to locate tea, he made a pot of coffee. Barely getting down the first sip, he looked up to see her standing naked in the doorway leading from the deck. “Christ, Andrea, I left you covered.”36

She wasn’t even shivering. She yawned and stretched leisurely like the cat he knew she was. She finger-combed the tangled mess of her hair, as she said, “No ones around this time of year. Surely, I’m not shocking you.”37

“That’s an understatement.”38

“You’re dressed. I’ll shower and we...”39

“Got a problem.” He cut off whatever she was going to offer. “I have to get back. Monday Morning. This boy’s on salary.”40

“Call in sick.”41

“I’m tempted.” He covered the lying with a smile. “Too much of a good thing and I will be. Besides I have a case on the docket this morning. Have some coffee? No eggs but there was bread in the freezer. Make you some toast?”42

“Nah, you’re in a hurry. I’ll just laze around for a while. Garb some breakfast on the point before I head out.”43

He breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t going to give him an argument. He couldn’t look directly at her. She was comfortable naked and that made him uncomfortable. “Well, I better get started. It’s a couple hours back. I...” He hesitated. He felt like a fool. He was standing fully dressed in front of a naked woman, he’d been fucking for three nights and didn’t know how to say goodbye. Did she expect a kiss? Much safer to shake her hand. That idea nearly made him laugh.44

She turned away, almost as if she was dismissing him, and headed to the back stairwell without adding anything.45

“I’ll give you a call.”46

“You do that.” Her movements seemed to gain urgency and she ran up the service stairs.47

A few minutes later Devlin escaped to his car and headed toward the bridge that would whisk him back to a slightly saner world. 48

Several times on the drive down the Garden State Highway the road blurred. He hunted his sunglasses. When he couldn’t find them, he slammed the glove compartment in irritation. He looked in the rearview mirror; his blood shot orbs stared back. No way did he dare show up at office looking like this. He turned off the Garden State on to the New York Thruway. Then took a cut off ramp before he got immersed in city traffic and headed out to Westchester.49

His stomach growled. Had they even bothered to eat? That was nuts. He could remember the ribs at the shack Andrea told him was open all year. He’d have to try it again when he could taste food. The whole weekend was surreal. Right then he swore off of two new things he’d tried --white cocaine and black women. Tom Devlin had enough ways open to hell. He wasn’t adding to them. 50