‘It doesn’t make any sense.’ ‘I don’t know, Mom,’ Lonnie replied. ‘All I know is that I never saw any of that stuff until the police took me out and showed it to me.’ ‘Maybe I ought to go over to Ann’s house and see if she’s all right,’ he mused. ‘Maybe something’s wrong with her, maybe that’s why she’s not answering her phone.’ He stood up and started for the front door. ‘Lonnie, where are you going?’ his mother asked. ‘I’m going to take a ride,’ her son said. ‘I need to think.’ ‘Just be careful,’ his mother said, ‘it’s late and you’ve had a pretty stressful day.’ ‘I will, Mom,’ Lonnie said. He got in his truck, backed out of his driveway, and headed across town toward Ann’s house. Mark Lewis sat in his car, a few doors down from Ann Wallin’s house, growing more and more angry as time passed. The house was dark when he arrived and remained dark. He kept expecting Ann to come home with some man. Anticipating that made him even angrier. Then he began thinking she might have gone to. You never heard me approach until you felt my hand on your arm, heard my next instructions from behind. “You don’t need to turn around just yet. I’d like to make sure that you’ve followed my instructions.” I think you recognized my voice from our calls. It seemed to bring a measure of relief. Until you felt my hand on the back of your leg. Until you realized what making sure you’d followed my instructions meant. You froze at my touch, your breath catching as without fanfare I ran my open hand up the back of your stockinged thigh, past the welt onto bare skin, then let it linger, cupping one of your firm, bare cheeks. I ran my other hand through your hair, just forcefully enough that you knew it was an unspoken command that you were still not to turn around. “I’m pleased”. As quickly as those words allowed you to begin breathing again, you felt my hand slide lower, spreading you slightly and giving my fingers access to your slit, which I stroked lightly a few times before parting your.
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