Fiends SSC Read Online Free PDF Page A

dizzy sidestep and almost fell. Brad jumped up to help, but she stayed on her feet and vanished below.
        He sat at the stern, waiting.
        Finally, the cabin door opened, then latched shut. Brad watched Tina’s dark form rise and step into the moonlight.
        ‘What do you think?’ she asked.
        ‘Very nice.’
        ‘It’s absolutely beautiful in the light. All gold and red and blue. I guess you know that, though.’
        ‘Does it fit all right?’
        ‘Does it?’ She posed for him.
        ‘Looks great to me. Is it supposed to cling like that?’
        ‘Sure.’ She walked toward him, keeping a hand on the gunwale to steady herself.
        The fabric, glossy in the moonlight, sheathed all the rises and hollows of her body until it stopped partway down her thighs.
        ‘It makes me feel naked,’ she said. ‘Naked and covered with something like baby oil so I’m all slick and shiny.’ She rubbed a hand over her ribs. ‘Feel,’ she said, and stepped into Brad’s arms.
        Her back was a curving sleekness under the cloth’s lubrication.
        She moaned. ‘It feels so good.’ She squeezed him extra hard, grunting with the effort. ‘This is just the nicest gift anyone’s ever given me.’
        ‘Like it, huh?’
        ‘I love it. Here, you feel.’ She tugged Brad’s T-shirt off, embraced him and moved lightly against him. The fabric was warm with the heat of Tina's skin, a slippery film between her body and his.
        Then Brad noticed that the dress was gathering above his hands. He rubbed upward on her sides, working the dress higher, and slid a hand down until the silken fabric ended and he felt the bare skin of her buttocks.
        ‘Lift your arms,’ he whispered.
        She raised her arms and he pulled the dress over her head. He draped it across the stern seat. Then he held her hands and looked at her.
        He swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat. ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he said.
        ‘I love you so much,’ she said. ‘I love you more than anything.’
        ‘I love you, too,’ he said.
        She moved in against him and unfastened his jeans.
        

8
        
        When Marty awoke in the morning, the drapes above her bed were bright with sunshine. The drawcord was just out of reach, so she got up quietly and opened the drapes, freeing the sunlight to slant downward onto her bed.
        She lay down, closing her eyes against the brightness and enjoying the feel of the heat as she listened to the house. Her mother and father were not yet stirring. She sat up and slipped off her nightgown. As she pulled it over her head, the sunlight touched the skin of her back, warming and soothing, draining away all desire to move. Elbows resting on the knees of her crossed legs, she hung her head and let the sun sink in.
        Things should always be this way, she thought.
        And her stomach knotted as she half expected to hear the doorbell ring - just as it had rung that other morning, a sunny morning so much like this - when she was fifteen years old.
        A warm, summer wind had been blowing through her room that morning, whipping the drapes above her bed and making the light flutter on the pages of Jane Eyre. The breeze smelled of flowers and freshly mowed grass, and hinted of a blistering day.
        When the doorbell rang downstairs, she didn’t want to answer it.
        But if she didn’t get the door, nobody would, and maybe it was something important.
        Rolling reluctantly out of bed, she pressed the open book face down on the sheet to keep her place, then hurried across the carpet to the closet door and pulled her robe off its hook. As she slipped her arms into her robe, the pajama sleeves were shoved up almost to her elbows.
        The doorbell rang again.
        She fastened the top button of her pajama shirt, hitched up the drooping pants,