Candy in the Sack (3 page)
“Kinda startled me.” Chagrin tinged Sherri’s voice. She laid the side of her face against his thigh. “That’s all.”
“Just somebody who got lost. No big deal.” He reached down and too her by the elbows, and raised her up to her feet. “Then again, if a house goes up for a sale on this block, they might come back and buy it. They’ll probably think it’s a friendly neighborhood.”
“I’m freezing my ass off out here,” announced Sherri.
He had to disentangle his own feet from his underwear and trousers, before he could lead her inside the house. She caught his hand as he reached to close the door behind them.
“No . . . don’t,” she said. “Leave it open. I like to have the moon watching us.” She nodded toward the couch. “Just bring me the comforter.”
“Sure.” He padded over to the couch and brought back the small blanket-like item, for which she had crocheted the squares, years ago when they first moved into the house. He draped it about her shoulders. “You look good in moonlight.”
“Good enough to finish what we got started?”
He didn t have to answer her not in words at least. In the open doorway, with the moon watching, he laid her down upon her back. She brought her knees up and pressed them tight against his hips; her arms reached up and around his neck, and he set to work.
A clockless time later, with the comforter wrapped around both of them, they gazed out the open doorway at the stars that had moved above the horizon, to replace the ones that had been there when they had started. “You know,” said Bryan, “I really did think you were supposed to be in Milwaukee right now.”
Sherri lazily opened her eyes. “I have other occult powers.” She smiled. “Like the mystic ability to call up the rest of the marketing committee and shift the meeting to next weekend.” She moved closer to his side, reaching up and laying a hand on his shoulder. “Just for you.”
He didn’t say anything. A crick was starting to set into his lower back, courtesy of the hardwood floor. Outside on the front porch, the empty witch mask continued to turn its gap-toothed grin toward the night sky.
“Though I suppose,” said Sherri, “this really doesn’t help. I mean, about there not being any trick-or-treaters anymore. Real trick-or-treaters, that is.”
“Maybe.” His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Maybe not.” He felt calm and philosophical, no longer troubled by the world’s inadequacies. “You know, when things die out . . . like traditions and stuff . . . like kids going out trick-or-treating . . . sometimes they come back.” He nodded slowly, his stubbly chin catching at his wife’s golden hair. “We could bring it back. You know, raise a new breed of trick-or-treaters. Send ’em out into the world in their cut-up bed sheets and ballerina costumes. Ringing doorbells and demanding candy or else.” His nod became more decisive. “It’s worth a shot.”
“A new breed, huh?” She turned toward him, breasts against his chest. She touched the tip of his nose with one finger. “Now that,” said Sherri, “is a project worth working on.”
“I thought you’d like it,” said Bryan. “We’d better get to bed then, and get some sleep.” He raised his head to kiss her, then regarded her with a smile. “We’ll start in the morning.”
Also by K. W. Jeter
The Kim Oh Thrillers:
Kim Oh 3: Real Dangerous People
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. .
and more to come
Noir
Wolf Flow
The Night Man
In the Land of the Dead
Death Arms
Mantis
Dark Seeker
The Glass Hammer
Dr. Adder
Soul Eater
The Dreamfields
Seeklight
Please visit the Author’s website at
www.kwjeter.com
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