I can’t believe you ripped it apart.” She pouted.
“I’ll give you something to cry about.” Shane pulled Carmen down and over her lap; Carmen’s ass making a perfect target for her hand. For a moment, Shane hesitated. Carmen turned her head and the seductive smile she had on her face was all the push Shane needed.
Mark stood in the hallway, brushed his hair out of his eyes with his hand, then ran that hand over his mouth as he listened. He heard a slap of a hand against skin, then a small moan, another slap, a groan, a slap, a grunt, a slap, and he heard Carmen’s voice melt and turn to liquid as she moaned again and said, “Oh, baby.” There was another slap and soon he heard the slaps and the response to them mixing and no longer reacting to each other--repeated slaps and at the same time, Carmen panting and crying. He felt movement in the front of his pants when he heard Shane say, “Are you going to be my good girl?” and Carmen groaned, “A little harder, Shane. Harder.” Slapping, slapping, slapping. This went on for several minutes and Mark was getting more and more uncomfortable thinking about what these two lesbians were doing on the other side of the room.
Shane looked down at Carmen’s ass and the usual bronze color had a bright pink tint to it. Her butt was hot to the touch and that made Shane as wet as she’d ever been. She had never played this sort of game, never wanted to, but Carmen made everything fun and normal, and totally sexy. Shane was alternating now between slaps and long caresses, moving lower and lower. She noticed that Carmen had spread her legs giving Shane access. Shane slipped her hand between her lover’s legs and discovered that the effect this game was having on her was having a similar result on Carmen. “Carmen, you feel this?” Shane asked as she sloshed her fingers in the wetness.
“Fuck me, Shane. Fuck me now.”
Mark’s eyes grew larger and so did the front of his pants. He groaned, but kept his ear to the door.
“Shane, baby. That’s it. Shane. Shane. Shane. Shane.”
The slapping had long ago ended and Mark could only use his imagination when suddenly he heard what sounded like a body falling onto the floor. He was startled, but heard Carmen and Shane laugh for a few moments and then, nothing but panting and the sound of Carmen enjoying a good fucking.
“Hazme tuya!” Make me yours. Carmen groaned.
“Ah, Carmen. You feel good, baby.”
“Metemelo…mas, mas.” Give it to me. More, more.
He heard Carmen begging Shane to keep doing what she was doing and he wondered what exactly that was and he wondered about the expression on Shane’s face at that moment—was she removed from the scene as she had been in many of the videos he had shot, was it a look of determination as she worked toward getting Carmen off, or was it a look of desire and anticipation. Mark was constantly watching Shane, trying to figure her out, wanting to understand her, so he knew her looks, and the one he had seen when she looked at Carmen was always desire, need, and lust and it was always barely controlled.
* * * * *
Jenny was halfway between LAX and O’Hare airports. As crazy as she had been feeling in Los Angeles—the skanky strip club, the cutting, the craziness with Tim and Marina and Gene and Robin, even her carnival nightmares were just little bumps in the road when she thought about what would be greeting her in Skokie. It was a mistake to go back to the place that was the nucleus of this abyss she swam in, but that was exactly why she had to go there. Throughout the flight, she had been clutching the airline’s barf bag, but she couldn’t make herself throw up. She wanted to. She wanted to purge herself of everything that was making her crazy, but it wasn’t going to be that easy. Jenny was clear in her mind—she would stay in the Midwest, in Skokie for however long it took.
