Idle Hands Ch. 03

Because it doesn't. I would never come between these two, she said, looking lovingly at Alex and Maria. But it doesn't mean I can't enjoy them. And since Josh and Sarah seem so happy together, who says I can't take my lovely son to my bed?

Unaware of how two women, only one of whom existed in material form, were deciding his future, Alex lined up his cock with Maria's cleft, then entered her. Unable to see it, Rachel still knew exactly when it happened, as the young woman between her legs stiffened slightly, then purred happily, an unseen tension flowing out of her back and shoulders as her lover joined with her again. Rachel propped herself up on her elbows, the better to see Maria's head bobbing industriously at her groin. Her hair, still bound in a braid, flowed like a river of pure midnight down her back, and her well-muscled buttocks quivered with each slap of Alex's flat stomach against her. However, she was frustratingly unable to see his cock. She groaned in inner agony, her mind's eye conjuring visions of how it must appear, hard and red and wet, as it emerged from Maria's silky sheath.

She cupped her breasts, pinched her nipples, and gave herself over to the feel of Maria's tongue. New she may be to pleasing a woman orally, but she was a fast learner. Sensitive to those slight changes in tension, posture, and breathing which indicated her arousal, it was no time at all until she had Rachel on the edge of a toe-curling orgasm. As the wonderful feeling swept her higher and higher, she opened her eyes, gazing vacantly around the room.

It was then, of course, that it happened. Helplessly, she saw the door of the room open and a form enter. Dressed in green hospital scrubs and a white doctor's gown, the young woman stared disbelievingly at the three of them. She shut the door with a slam that sounded like the crack of doom.

"What the fuck do you people think you're doing?"

*****

Yasna stood in the small room, trembling with fury. Her rounds had started badly enough, with Althea Carpenter being moved out of her room for some reason, and the head nurse unable to give her a lucid explanation as to why. And when she finally tracked her down, to find three people rutting like dogs in her room! How dare these people profane Althea with their presence? Her small fists clenched in her pockets, and it was with difficulty that she restrained herself from physically attacking them.

"Oh," groaned the older woman, an attractive brunette perhaps ten years older than herself. "Oh, God!" she panted, trembling, and to her horror Yasna realized that the woman had just climaxed right in front of her. She rolled off the bed, standing on unsteady legs, and smoothed her expensive lime-green skirt over her slender legs. While Yasna watched in disbelief, she kissed the two young people who were bent over the bed, her mouth devouring theirs hungrily. "Thank you, Maria," she heard her whisper, as she squeezed one heaving breast.

All but ignoring her, she stumbled over to a chair near Althea's bed and picked up a tasteful white blouse. Shrugging it on, she buttoned it up over her generous chest and stepped into a pair of high-heeled walking sandals. When she had finished, she finally turned to Yasna.

"You must be Dr. Marafi," she said politely. "I'm Rachel Wainwright. I'm a friend of Althea's and I came over to pay her a visit, once I discovered she was here. I have to thank you for taking such good care of her."

She held out a well-manicured hand, and Yasna took it, ingrained good manners taking precedence over her outrage at this woman's behavior. Her eyes strayed to the other bed, where the tall young man was still thrusting urgently into the gorgeous young Latina woman. She shook her head in mute disgust. "I don't suppose I could ask you to have them quit screwing in the presence of one of my patients?"

Rachel blinked, as if confused by the suggestion. "Why would I do that? It wouldn't be fair to the poor darlings. Especially Alex," she indicated the young man, her eyes lingering possessively on his well-muscled form. Her voice sank to a conspiratorial whisper. "You would not believe how long I made him wait before I let him fuck Maria this afternoon. I thought he was going to shoot off in his pants!"

She made her voice cold. "And you think this is appropriate behavior?"

"In the midst of life, there is death," Rachel replied serenely. "There's nothing like a reminder of our own mortality to make you feel like challenging it with a reminder of what joys life holds." From the far side of the room came a matched pair of groans, and Yasna saw Alex slump over the back of his lover, kissing her neck tenderly. "But now," Rachel continued, as if this was perfectly normal, "Tell me about Althea. What is her condition?"

Yasna took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. The woman might be crazy and unconventional, but she didn't appear dangerous. And it would be more trouble than it was worth to call Security. She thought about the amount of paperwork that would generate, and shuddered. She let Rachel lead her over to the bedside, where Althea slept quietly, untroubled by their concerns.

"The EMTs brought her in on May 19^th, in the late afternoon," she said, the facts so well-fingered in her own mind she could recite them in her sleep. "She was outside her condo in River North when she suddenly collapsed and began to convulse. The seizure stopped almost immediately, but witnesses couldn't wake her up. They called 911, and she was brought here.

"She's been unconscious ever since," she stated flatly, her immense frustration at her inability to diagnose Althea's illness making itself heard in her voice. "We've run tests. They've all come back negative." For a moment she hesitated, wondering whether to share what she had found out late the night before, then closed her mouth firmly. No need to go stirring up trouble. And what would this weird woman say if she told her the truth?

"Now, how about you help me out a bit?" she suggested caustically. "You're the first person to visit Miss Carpenter, as far as I know. Can you help me fill in some gaps in her medical history?"

Rachel's eyes went blank for a moment, then she nodded firmly. "Of course."

"How long have you known her?"

"Only a little while. But we've grown very close in a short time."

"Does she have any allergies or medical conditions that you know of? Or a family history of any sort of disease or genetic disorders?"

"No," Rachel said firmly. "As far as I can tell, she's usually disgustingly healthy."

"Any recent trips out of the country? Especially to tropical areas. Central America or sub-Saharan Africa?"

Rachel nodded. "You're thinking about something like the Zika virus, right? Or one of those strange fevers that come out of Africa or Asia. No," she said, dashing Yasna's hopes. "I believe she went to Canada for a few weeks a couple of years ago. And she visited Europe a few years before that. But she has spent most of her time in America."

"Damn it," she muttered. Being able to talk to someone Althea knew had raised her hopes for a moment, but they had been smashed again. She let her gaze stray to her patient, her angelic face calm and serene. She frowned, and bent close.

No, she thought, straightening. It can't be. It must be a trick of the light in a different room. But the thought nagged her. Had Althea's skin lost some of its pale, sickly hue? Were her cheeks less hollow, her hair more golden?

"Thank you for coming in," she said, putting on her professional mask. "But I have to ask you to leave. I have to examine Miss Carpenter. And I must ask," she continued, cursing the hot blood that flooded her cheeks with heat, "That you not engage in any...activities...like those I interrupted the next time you come to visit." In the corner of her eye she could see the two younger members of the group slowly dressing, pausing occasionally to caress each other.

"Of course," Rachel said. "It was inappropriate, and I apologize. The next time we come here we will do no such thing." She picked up a purse and slung it over her shoulder. "Here," she said, reaching inside and pulling out a card. "My cell number is on here. The office number is out of date, I'm afraid, as I just left my previous job. But if you have any questions about Althea, please call." Her eyes caught her, strangely intent. "If you want to talk about anything about Althea, you can call me. Anytime.

"Come on, kids," she said, and walked out, not looking back.

*****

Well, your doctor seems to like you, Rachel observed silently, as they drove down the toll road towards Woodridge. Pretty, too, for all she tries to hide it. Too thin, but she's got a decent chest under those scrubs. And that face and her skin! She reminds me of Jasmine from Aladdin. What nationality do you think she is? Israeli? Jordanian?

Althea made a disgusted noise. ~She's from Iran. At least, her family is. She was born here in the States. There were a lot of Iranian families that came over here after the Ayatollah took power back in the seventies. And only you would compare a woman like that to a Disney movie,~ she said. Her voice grew pensive. ~I hope there's a happy ever after for her, though. She's been hurt. Badly. And she may be hurt worse by the time we're done.~

What do you mean?

~Did you see the way she looked at me?~

Not much different from the way we all looked at you, I thought. You're gorgeous, Althea. I knew that from the first night I met you. But to see you in the flesh...shit, you're overwhelming. No wonder you never had any problems finding partners. For you, the entire human race must have been like an all-you-can-eat buffet.

~Well, that's true,~ Althea allowed modestly. ~But for poor Yasna back there, it goes deeper. And that's what worries me. Elf-shot, they used to call it, back in the old days, when there were still quite a few of us around. Certain humans would fixate on us, to the exclusion of everything else. And if we weren't very careful, they would pine away without us, forgetting to eat and drink and sleep, until they died.

~Humans made ballads about it. As if it were somehow glorious to die for love. How does that make any sense? Why would anyone want to leave this world? It is wonderful. I do not understand humans. Life and beauty and and the constant wonder of this good Earth, and they choose to leave it voluntarily.

~I will not have that. I will not have a beautiful, intelligent young woman die of neglect or by her own hand,~ Althea grumbled, sounding like a cranky old man, and Rachel smiled. She pulled off the tollway, taking the exit towards home. In the backseat, Maria and Alex were cuddled together, talking softly. It made Rachel's heart glow to see the love between the two of them. Every day it grew deeper, stronger, and richer.

~They are beautiful children, are they not?~

They are. Have you ever wondered, she asked, phrasing her question carefully. What it would be like to have children of your own?

~Only every day since I was seventeen, and the Messenger of God pronounced judgment on the succubi,~ Althea replied bleakly. ~I had taken lovers before, and had never conceived. I do not know if even God knew what we would be like, my brothers and sisters and myself. On that day the Messenger came down from Heaven and told me my fate. Immortality and an eternal war against the Forsaken. And never a child.~

I'm sorry, she said softly. Look, she said, trying to distract her. There's where we first met! The intersection where Pete Miller died flashed past.

~Damned fool,~ Althea said darkly. ~It would almost be worth going to Hell. Just to kick his ass. Hey! Who the fuck is that, and what is he doing?~

Rachel drew an outraged breath as she pulled into the driveway. A large, beefy man was at her front door. From the angle it was difficult to see what he was doing, but it certainly looked like he was trying to pick the lock and gain entry. His shoulders were hunched under the jacket of his cheap suit, as if he were trying to hide his actions from prying eyes.

"Alex," she snapped. "Heads up. Someone's trying to break in. Get ready to call 911, but don't actually do it until I say so. Both of you, follow me, but stay back and keep quiet."

"Excuse me?" she said, climbing out of the car. Alex and Maria followed at a cautious distance. She kept her voice loud and cheerful, with only the slightest hint of concern. "Can I help you?"

The man turned quickly and backed away from the door, an expression of guilt replaced by a wide, cheerful smile. "Rachel Wainwright?"

"Yes," she nodded warily. "And you are?"

"Lloyd Fontein, Chicago PD," he said. He flashed a badge at her, closing the leather case and tucking it away before she could get a good look. Too quickly, she thought to herself. "Would you mind if I came in and asked you some questions?"

"Yes," she said, smiling widely.

"Great," he said, moving aside and allowing her to get to the door. "Lovely house you have here. A lot better than I could afford on a detective's salary, huh?"

Oh, he's good. Her admiration was tinged with disgust. Win my sympathy by implying you're underpaid. Work on my guilt. Her smile grew cold. "I don't think you understand. Yes, I do mind if you come inside. You're not invited. And truth be told, you're more than a little off your turf, aren't you, Mr. Fontein? This is Woodridge. What's a Chicago cop doing all the way out here?"

Fontein's smile grew ugly. "Investigating a disappearance. What do you know about a woman named Althea Carpenter?"

"Althea? She's not missing. She's-" Too late, she caught herself. "She's not your business." Shaking at her slip, she pulled out her keys.

"Oh, I'm making it my business, bitch." A heavy hand fell on her shoulder, spinning her around. In the back of her mind, Althea screamed in fear and rage. Fontein leaned close, his rank breath making her gag. His eyes were wide and bloodshot. "Listen," he said hoarsely, and she could sense his panic. "Tell me what you know and I'll leave. I'll never bother you again. What do you care about this cunt Carpenter, anyway?"

"Alex, now!" she shouted. She glared at the hulk of a man looming over her. "My son just called the police. The real police."

"I am-"

"You're not," she snapped. "And I know it. Out of your jurisdiction, unmarked car, closing the badge too quickly, too fast to resort to threats and abuse.

"Now, it's possible," she said, "not likely, but possible, that you're just a plainclothes detective who's having a bad day. In which case I'll apologize and we'll all have a good laugh when you prove you are who you say you are. On the other hand," she continued, "If you're here when the Woodridge PD shows up and they see you're impersonating a real police officer..." she allowed her voice to delicately trail off. "What happens to ex-cops in prison, Lloyd?"

"Fuck you," he breathed, and she could taste his fear and hate. "Fuck you forever. Screw it," he said, removing his hand from her shoulder and edging away. "I'll find the Carpenter bitch without your help. You had your chance. Remember this," he spat over his shoulder as he walked down the steps toward the sidewalk, "When that monster Kincaid comes for you. You had your chance."

Kincaid? What the hell does he have to do with this? She watched suspiciously as Fontein climbed into a beat-up old Buick and pulled away from the curb. Maria and Alex walked up to her, surrounding her protectively as the car lurched away in a stinking cloud of blue exhaust.

"What was that about, Mom?" Alex asked.

"I'm not sure," she said.

~I am,~ Althea said. Rachel bit her lip. For the first time in their acquaintance, Althea was scared. No. Not scared. Terrified. ~That man has been touched by a demon-spawn, and he is doing his bidding. Somehow he knows, Rachel. The demon knows who I am and he knows I am incapacitated. The only thing he doesn't know is where I am. Where my body is. And where my soul is. If he finds out either, he will kill me. And by the time he is done, my death will be a welcome release.

~And he knows you and I are somehow connected. Oh, God, Rachel. I am so sorry.~

*****