pzb.drawingblood-第35章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


been　made　to　fit　there。　He　slid　one　hand　up　between　Zach's　legs；　cupped　his　balls　and　felt　them　draw　tight；　felt　the　skin　shivering；　seething。　Zach　was　tossing　his　head　and　moaning；　trying　not　to　thrust　too　hard。　Trevor　grabbed　his　bucking　hips　and　swallowed　him　deeper；　willing　his　throat　muscles　to　open；　to　liquefy。　He　almost　gagged；　but　forced　the　reflex　down。　He　wanted　this　in　him；　this　taste；　this　chance。
　　Chance？　he　thought；　what　do　I　mean　by　chance？　But　before　he　had　time　to　ponder　it；　Zach　screamed　〃OHHHH；　TREV！〃　and　snarled　his　fingers　in　Trevor's　hair　so　hard　the　strands　felt　as　if　they　would　rip　out　of　his　scalp；　and　his　whole　thrumming　body　surged　forward　and　seemed　to　pour　its　energy　into　Trevor。　He　felt　it　spilling　hot　over　his　tongue　and　down　the　back　of　his　throat；　crackling　from　Zach's　fingertips　into　Trevor's　temples　and　straight　through　his　brain；　even　emanating　from　Zach's　solar　plexus　in　steady　waves。　His　body　was　like　some　kind　of　big　nervous　battery。
　　Trevor　kept　sucking　until　Zach's　penis　was　soft　and　slippery　in　his　mouth；　until　his　lips　were　buried　in　the　crisp；　glossy　thicket　of　hair　that　stood　out　so　black　against　the　juncture　of　Zach's　pale　thighs。　The　taste　in　Trevor's　mouth　was　much　like　his　own；　but　had　its　distinct　notes：　slightly　herbal；　slightly　peppery。　He　wondered　if　his　own　e　would　poison　Zach's　bloodstream　with　caffeine。
　　But　Zach's　body　was　slowly　relaxing　into　him；　twining　round　him。　Trevor　slid　up　on　the　mattress　so　that　Zach　could　lie　fortably　against　him。　His　fingers　traced　patterns　in　the　sweat　trickling　along　Zach's　spine。　He　kissed　Zach's　eyelids　and　the　faint　dark　smudges　beneath　his　eyes；　savoring　the　tender　crepey　texture　of　the　skin　against　his　lips；　the　feathery　brush　of　the　lashes；　the　small　secret　motions　of　the　eyeball。　He　kissed　the　graceful　arcs　of　Zach's　eyebrows；　the　slope　of　his　narrow　elegant　nose。　Then　their　mouths　joined　again　in　a　long；　lush；　sated　kiss。　It　seemed　that　even　with　sore　lips　Zach　could　not　get　enough　of　kissing　him。　Trevor　had　never　known　it　was　possible　to　feel　this　close　to　someone；　had　never　dreamed　he　would　want　to。
　　〃So　what　do　you　think？〃　Zach　asked　after　a　while。
　　〃I　think　it　was　worth　about　a　million　drawings。〃　Trevor　felt　a　guilty　pang　as　he　said　this。　But　if　the　Bird　story　hadn't　been　destroyed；　this　might　not　have　happened。　He　knew　he　had　more　drawings　in　his　hand；　in　his　brain。　Zach　was　right；　he　didn't　need　the　house　to　dole　them　out　to　him。
　　Zach　shook　his　head。　〃If　it　was　enough　of　an　asshole　to　tear　up　your　story；　maybe　it'll　be　sorry。　Maybe　it'll　put　the　pieces　back　together。〃
　　Trevor　snorted。　〃And　Scotch…tape　them。〃
　　〃Yeah；　with　the　Magic　Tape。〃
　　〃Yeah；　with　nine　hundred　thousand　yards　of　it。〃
　　Zach　settled　into　the　curve　of　Trevor's　arm。　Trevor　felt　the　sweat　cooling　on　their　bodies；　the　damp　morning　chill　that　pervaded　the　room；　and　pulled　the　blanket　over　them。　Beneath　it；　Zach　moved　yet　closer　to　him。　It　was　like　being　in　a　warm　pocket　of　space　reserved　exclusively　for　them；　like　a　safe　haven；　like　a　womb。
　　〃I'm　sorry　I　hit　you；〃　Trevor　said。　It　was　way　past　the　time　for　an　apology；　but　he　had　to　say　it　anyway。
　　〃I'm　not。　It　got　us　this　far。〃　Zach　yawned；　pushed　his　face　into　Trevor's　chest。　〃I　was　scared　to　try　anything　with　you　before。〃
　　〃Why？〃
　　〃Well…〃　Zach　shifted　position；　draped　an　arm　across　Trevor's　stomach；　stroked　the　small　sharp　hill　of　Trevor's　hipbone。　〃I　don't　usually　have　sex　with　people　I　respect。〃
　　〃Why　not？〃
　　〃Because　I'm　a　dumbfuck；　I　guess。　I　don't　know。〃
　　Trevor　just　looked　at　him。
　　Zach　began　to　talk　much　as　Trevor　had　done　yesterday；　spilling　his　sordid　history；　detailing　more　damage　than　he　probably　even　realized：　the　condoms　he　masturbated　with；　the　empty　French　Quarter　trysts；　the　obsessive　need　to　feel　other　flesh　against　his　own　but　not　to　have　to　think　about　it。　By　the　end　he　was　crying　again；　just　a　few　slow　shameful　tears。
　　Trevor　cupped　Zach's　face　in　both　hands　and　licked　the　tears　away。　His　tongue　darted　into　the　salty　corner　of　Zach's　eye；　rounded　the　curve　of　Zach's　cheekbone；　slipped　back　into　Zach's　mouth。　Zach　pressed　gratefully　against　him；　and　Trevor　felt　himself　wanting　it　all　to　happen　again。　He　didn't　know　if　it　was　possible　so　soon。　But　Zach　seemed　to　be　showing　him　that　anything　was　possible。
　　It　lasted　much　longer　this　time。　Zach's　hands　worked　him　expertly；　stroking；　squeezing；　fingering　and　probing；　building　up　a　rhythm　so　exquisite　that　Trevor　thought　he　would　spend　his　seed　between　Zach's　warm　slick　palms。　That　would　have　been　fine；　but　Zach　began　to　make　his　way　back　down；　kissing　him　everywhere；　tracing　a　wet　glistening　maze　of　spit　along　his　body；　then　sucking　him　deep　and　slow；　excruciatingly；　maddeningly　slow。　It　was　almost　painful；　yet　Trevor　wanted　it　to　go　on　for　hours。
　　Zach　was　sprawled　between　Trevor's　legs；　his　left　arm　wrapped　loosely　around　Trevor's　waist；　his　right　hand　doing　something　ingenious。　Trevor　felt　Zach's　penis　growing　insistently　hard　against　his　thigh。　He　moved　his　leg　against　it；　reached　down　and　barely　managed　to　graze　it　with　his　fingertips。　He　wanted　to　do　something　to　make　Zach　feel　good　too。
　　〃Can　I…how　do　we　both…〃
　　Without　breaking　rhythm；　Zach　shifted　so　that　his　hips　were　beside　Trevor's　head；　his　boner　within　easy　reach　of　Trevor's　mouth。　This　position　seemed　a　marvel　of　physics；　but　Trevor　grasped　its　advantages　immediately；　it　leaned　their　weight　into　each　other；　pressed　the　flat　planes　of　their　bodies　tightly　together；　and　stretched　their　throats　wide　open。　It　seemed　as　if　they　could　go　on　for　hours　this　way。　And　so　they　did；　until　their　exhausted　bodies　were　all　but　bound　together　by　a　moist　web　of　spit　and　sweat　and　semen。
　　Then　they　slept　again；　easy　sated　sleep　that　lasted　into　the　afternoon。　The　house　was　silent　around　them。　Their　dreams　were　set　only　to　the　soft　patter　of　rain　on　the　roof；　to　the　slow　even　rhythm　of　one　another's　breathing。
　　
　　　
　　　Chapter　Fourteen
　　
　　A　tourist　from　Atlanta　was　found　murdered　Tuesday　in　a　warehouse　used　to　store　Mardi　Gras　parade　floats。　Elizabeth　Linhardt；　36；　had　reportedly　been　mutilated　and　an　attempt　made　to　burn　her　corpse。　An　anonymous　source　stated　that　the　victim's　head　was　found　in　the　mouth　of　a　ten…foot　bust　of　Bacchus；　partially　chewed　。　。　。
　　
　　Travis　Rigaud　of　St。　Tammany　Parish　accidentally　shot　himself　while　cleaning　his　collection　of　handguns…five　different　times　with　five　different　guns；　twice　in　the　left　foot；　once　in　the　right　calf；　and　once　in　each　hand；　severing　two　fingers。　〃I　finally　sold　the　handguns；〃　said　Rigaud；　〃but　I　still　have　my　rifles　and　this　bad　luck　won't　keep　me　home　e　hunting　season；　even　if　I　should　miss　everything　by　a　mile；　no；　cherie　。　。　。〃
　　
　　A　man　was　pulled　over　by　state　troopers　near　Chalmette　with　148　poisonous　snakes　in　his　car　。。。
　　
　　Eddy　let　the　newspaper　slip　to　the　floor　and　draped　her　forearm　across　her　tired　eyes。　She　wore　only　a　pair　of　black　bikini　panties。　Her　armpits　were　dusted　with　the　fine　dark　hair　she'd　allowed　to　grow　since　she　quit　the　Pink　Diamond。　She　still　wore　small　silver　rings　in　her　nipples；　but　she　had　undipped　the　delicate　chain　that　usually　connected　them。　She　could　smell　the　sweat　on　her　skin；　a　faint　odor　of　lemons　and　musk；　and　thought　soon　she　might　get　up　and　take　a　shower。
　　After　the　cops　left；　she　had　gone　straight　to　the　bank；　then　scored　the　Tuesday　morning　and　afternoon　editions　of　the　Times…Picayune。　Now　she　was　lying　on　top　of　seven　thousand　dollars　reading　every　article　and　squib　and　photo　caption；　looking　for　more　clues　from　Zach。　Her　fingers　were　smudged　with　cheap　black　ink。　She　paid　special　attention　to　the　weird　news；　but　it　was　midsummer　in　New　Orleans　and　there　was　plenty　of　genuinely　strange　shit　going　on。
　　But　could　anyone　really　shoot　himself　five　times　with　five　different　guns？　Eddy　frowned。　It　didn't　seem　possible。
　　She　picked　up　the　paper　again　and　reread　the　article；　and　a　bell　went　off　in　her　head。　Zach's　mother's　maiden　name　had　been　something　Cajun。　She　was　pretty　sure　it　was　Rigaud。　The　other　fake　story　had　had　a　byline　of　Joseph　something…or…other。　Joseph　was　Zach's　father's　name。
　　Eddy　thought　these　obscure　references　to　the　people　who　had　spent　fourteen　years　abusing　him　strange；　sad；　and　slightly　perverse；　but　there　they　were。　And　this　improbable　item　had　his　scent　all　over　it；　from　the　gibe　at　trigger…happy　rednecks　to　the　corny　patois。　〃Even　if　I　should　miss　everything　by　a　mile；　no；　cherie？〃　What　the　fuck　was　that　supposed　to　mean？
　　No；　Cherie　。。。　N　。。。　C　。。。
　　She　got　up　and　pawed　through　the　books　Zach　and　the　Secret　Service　had　left；　but　of　course　there　was　no　road　atlas。　Either　Zach　had　never　had　one；　or　he'd　taken　it　himself；　or　They　had　snagged　it；　maybe　hoping　he'd　plotted　his　escape　route　in　yellow　highlighter。　She　should　have　gotten　a　map　of　North　Carolina　yesterday；　when　Zach's　first　clue　appeared　in　the　paper。
　　Eddy　pulled　on　a　pair　of　denim　cutoffs　and　selected　a　black　T…shirt　from　the　pile　Zach　had　left　behind。　An　artfully　torn　rag　printed　with　the　Bauhaus…like　logo　of　Midnight　Sun；　a　dreadful　Gothic　sextet　that　had　played　around　the　Quarter　clubs　last　year；　then　disappeared　into　whatever　void　was　reserved　for　truly　bad　bands。　She　couldn't　imagine　why　Zach　had　the　shirt；　unless　he　had　fucked　one　of　the　band　members。　Probably　he　had；　they'd　all　been　beautiful　and　stupid。
　　Those　faithful　old　twin　parasites；　anger　and　pain；　tried　to　worm　up　inside　her。　Eddy　pushed　them　back　down。　Never　mind　who　Zach　had　fucked。　She　had　put　up　with　it　and　called　herself　his　friend。　If　she　really　was　his　friend；　then　she　had　to　stay　several　steps　ahead　of　his　enemies；　or　try　anyway。
　　Outside；　the　daily　cloudburst　had　e　and　gone；　and　the　streets　were　still　steaming。　Trash　piles　at　the　back　doors　of　bars　and　restaurants　gave　off　a　melange　of　smells：　stale　beer；　rotting　vegetables；　fishbones　touched　with　grease　and　cayenne。　She　passed　a　bushel　basket　of　oyster　shells　still　slick　with　the　mollusks'　gluey　residue；　and　caught　a　whiff　of　the　salty　seawater　odor　that　always　made　her　wonder　for　an　instant　if　she　needed　a　bath。
　　I　was　going　to　shower　before　I　came　out；　Eddy　remembered。　I　probably　smell　a　little　like　old　oyster　shells　myself。　But　it　didn't　matter。　Nobody　was　going　to　get　close　enough　to　her　to　care；　and　she　had　more　important　business　to　worry　about。
　　A　few　blocks　up　Chartres　was　a　used…book　store　Eddy　and　Zach　had　often　frequented　together。　They　could　spend　hours　in　there；　enveloped　in　the　delicately　dusty；　dry；　alluring　scent　of　books；　poring　over　leather…bound　volumes　with　gilt…edged　pages；　stacks　of　ancient　magazines；　battered　paperbacks　whose　corners　were　rounded　and　softened　with　age。　The　proprietor；　an　old　Creole　lady　who　smoked　a　fragrant　pipe　and　read　incessantly；　never　seemed　to　mind　having　them　natter　and　browse。
　　But　when　Eddy　asked　for　a　U。S。　atlas；　the　old　lady　shook　her　head。　〃Maps　from　the　1920s　would　be　useless　to　you；　no；　chere？　Try　the　Bookstar　by　Jax　Brewery　or　one　of　the　chains　up　on　Canal。〃
　　〃Okay；　I　guess　I　will。〃
　　Eddy　turned　to　go；　but　the　old　lady　must　have　seen　some　fleeting　sadness　in　her　face；　for