Moonbog (25 page)

“Yeah,” Les replied. “I just thought I’d take the day off. I couldn’t really see spending my time chasing around that goddamn Bog, getting eaten by black flies. Fuck it.”

Mac nodded and blew out a streamer of smoke. “Black flies ain’t bad. All yah gotta’ do,” Mac said, chuckling, “is forget to take a bath for a week or two and they won’t wanna’ take a bite outta’ yah.” He chuckled to himself and took another swallow of beer.

“They ain’t gonna’ find anything out there anyway,” Les said.

Mac suddenly scowled, his face taking on the aspect of death as he leaned forward in the dimness of the bar and tapped Les on the chest with his bony forefinger. “I knows who done it, too,” he said, his voice low and intense. A horribly mad light glowed deep within his eyes, and Les shifted uncomfortably.

“‘S that so,” he said, trying to keep his voice even and unconcerned.

“Sure as shit,” Mac said, nodding. “I seen ‘em just as clear as I see you sittin’ here.” The old man’s throat was beginning to sound dry and raspy, so he took another drink before continuing. “You guys been tellin’ me I’m full of shit, but I seen them flyin’ saucers out there in the Bog. Honest to Christ.”

“You don’t say,” Les said with a foggy smile.

“I been tellin’ you guys for months about them blue lights I seen in the Bog. Them’s flyin’ saucers taking them kids away. After they check ‘em inside and out, they throw the body back into the Bog, make it look like a murder so no one will suspect the truth.”

Les leaned back in his seat and cracked a tight grin. The old man’s gleaming eyes still had him.

“Oh yeah, sure, go ahead and laugh,” Mac said, his anger rising. He leaned across the table toward Les, paused just long enough to drain his mug, and then continued. “All o’ yah laugh and figure I’m drunk on my ass, but I seen ‘em!”

“Oh, I believe you,” Les said. “Really I do.” But the smile on his face betrayed him and only served to make Mac angrier.

“You can go to blazes!” Mac shouted, slamming his hand against the table and making the beer mugs rattle. “I know what’s goin’ on in that Bog! I seen ‘em clear as I can see you!”

“I don’t doubt you a bit,” Les replied distantly. A flicker of movement caught his eye and, looking at the side door, he saw Allison walk in and take a seat at the bar. She was wearing a shimmering blue silk blouse and a pair of tightly fitted jeans. Les craned his neck, watching her as Mac rambled on about the night last fall when he had seen a flying saucer land in the Bog and a half dozen little, round-headed people got out and run around.

Les’ eyes were fastened on Allison who, sitting in silhouette, daintily sipped at her mixed drink. Les had to admit that she had more class than five or six women from Holland put together. At any minute, he expected to see David walk in and join her, but until he did, Les was content to study the woman’s attractive figure.

“You listenin’?” Mac said loudly. He reached for Les’ elbow and shook it. Les looked up at the old man angrily.

“I’m tellin’ yah, these disappearances ain’t gonna’ stop until these saucer men have what they want. Then they’ll jus’ disappear ‘n go back to where they came from.”

“You’re probably right,” Les said, shifting his body so he could watch Allison. She had almost finished her drink, and Les was beginning to suspect that if David was going to join her, he would have by now.

Maybe
, Les thought,
she’s looking for some company
.

Les looked at Mac, who was still in the clutches of his story. He reached for his wallet, took out a dollar bill, and slapped it into the old man’s hand. “Here you go, buddy. Drink this up for me,” he said, moving to rise. “There’s someone I gotta’ see.”

Les stood up, hitched his belt, and finished off his drink. However involved Mac had been in telling about what was out in the Bog, he forgot all about it at the prospect of another free drink. He crumpled the bill and slid it into his shirt pocket. As Les walked away from the table, Mac settled into his seat and raised his hand for the waitress to come over.

Les walked boldly to where Allison was sitting and took the empty bar stool beside her. He noticed that everyone in the bar was watching him, and he felt a deep pride that he knew this woman and dared to sit with her. He relished the envy the others must be feeling.

Les made an attempt to sound casual as he greeted Allison. She looked at him with an expressionless glance and then raised her glass to her mouth before nodding.

“Ain’t it a bit early in the day for scotch and water?” Les asked.

Allison wrinkled her brows slightly, then said, “It’s never too early in the day for
anything
in my book.” She ran her tongue over her upper lip and then took another dainty sip.

There was a lengthening moment of awkward silence. Les cleared his throat and shifted uneasily on the stool. He felt the eyes in the bar focused on him, and that made him feel a wave of warmth on the back of his neck. When Allison took a cigarette from the leather case that lay on the bar, Les quickly snatched up the Bic lighter and flicked it.

“Well, I see you have some manners,” she said before puffing the cigarette into life. Les recognized the tone of voice some people used when talking to their pets, and that angered him slightly. Still, he smiled and laughed softly.

“We’re not
all
a bunch of hicks, yah know,” he said evenly. Allison puffed a cloud of smoke in his direction and smirked slightly.

Les had to swallow hard as he stared at Allison. He remembered how attractive she was the first time he had met her, and she was just as good now—maybe even better. He noticed the way the silk blouse stretched across her breasts and quickly realized that she wasn’t wearing a bra. He wondered, a lump forming in his throat, if she was wearing any panties. He knew, in the back of his mind, that Allison was the kind of woman he could never come close to impressing, but he felt some confidence just being able to sit next to her.

“So, where’s David?” he asked. “I thought he’d be joining you.” He straightened up and scanned the half-filled bar as though he expected to locate the lady’s missing companion. Mac Foster caught his eye, raised his mug, and winked.

Allison sighed deeply, the harsh scowl on her face deepening. “He’s talking to some real estate dealer,” she said huffily, “and I’ll be goddamned if I’m going to sit around all afternoon listening to him talk about that old house of his.” She took an angry puff on her cigarette and made a vague attempt at flicking the ash into the ashtray.

“He’s thinking of sellin’ the place?” Les asked, suddenly interested. “I didn’t realize he was—”

“I just said,” Allison said sternly, “that I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh yeah, sure,” Les said, suddenly sobered. “Just tryin’ to make conversation, that’s all.”

“Well, if that’s the best you can do, why don’t you rejoin your old buddy over there,” she said, cocking her thumb in Mac’s general direction.

“Oh, I can do better,” Les replied with swelling confidence. “Believe me. Why don’t we move on over to a booth where there’s a little more privacy?” He smiled widely, letting himself feel the numerous beers he had consumed.

Without a word, Allison stood up; gathered her drink, cigarettes, and lighter; and sauntered to the booth in the furthest corner of the bar. As she moved, Les watched the simmering fabric of her blouse, fascinated by the way the material pulled. Following two steps behind, he let his gaze fix on her tight fitting jeans. Envy for David rose from his stomach, leaving a bad taste in his mouth, but he forced it away when he realized that he was alone with her now. He found himself hoping he would have a chance to show her what kind of man he was.

Allison sat on the padded seat and slid in until she was angled against the wall. She immediately arranged her drink, cigarettes and lighter exactly as they had been at the bar. She smiled and took a sip of her drink.

Les sat down heavily in the other seat. He hated having his back to the rest of the barroom, but Allison had taken her seat before he could say anything. The only other choice would have been to sit beside her, and he could never have done that. He wondered if he was hiding the nervous discomfort he felt in her presence. Never in his life had he been alone with a woman with so much class and so much blatant sexuality. He hooked his arms along the back of the seat and tried to calm himself.

“This is better,” he mumbled. Allison had one elbow on the table and was playing with the top button of her blouse. Les found it difficult to look away when she popped the button open and spread apart her blouse, exposing the smooth skin of her neck.

“It’s not really my idea of fun,” she said softly, in a low, seductive tone. Les took a swig of beer and wondered if she was serious or just teasing him. He decided to play along and see just how far she would carry it.

“Mine neither,” he replied, cocking his eyebrow.

Allison sighed, and Les was mesmerized by the way her chest moved beneath the silk. He shifted in the seat uncomfortably as he felt himself getting an erection.

“So,” Les said casually, “how long have you been going with David?”

Allison shrugged and arched her eyebrows. “I guess about three years, ever since the divorce.”

“Divorce? Who’s divorce? Yours or his?”

Allison chuckled distantly. “His, of course. I’ve always been too dedicated to fun to get married.”

“I never heard that David had gotten married,” Les said weakly, beginning to feel like a fool. He found it impossible to maintain eye contact with Allison. He felt that his voice sounded weak, with a pre-pubescent creaking, and he was deeply afraid that he was going to make an ass of himself in front of this woman.

Allison nodded, fingering her hair. “He was married to a woman named Barbara for quite some time. A nice enough person, but a bit . . . dull. I guess David was looking for a little more excitement in his relationships.”

“Nothin’ like it,” Les replied softly. Allison’s smile widened. She shook a cigarette from her pack and stuck it into her mouth. “Light me,” she said, leaning forward until her breasts pressed against the table top. Les picked up the lighter and, hands shaking, held it to Allison’s cigarette.

“What’s he do in New York?” Les asked, finding it impossible to keep his eyes away from the widening V of her exposed neck.

Allison blew a plume of smoke at Les and shook her head. “Christ, I thought David said you guys were friends. You don’t seem to know a hell of a lot about him.”

Les shrank back. “Well, you know, we sorta’ lost touch after high school, once he moved away and all.”

“He works at a bank in the city. He’s working his way up in the loan office. I suppose that’s what split up him and Barbara; he really worked hard and left her out of his life.”

“Too bad,” Les said. He took a swallow of beer and almost gagged, it was so warm.

“Depends,” Allison said softly, softening her eyes. “It all depends on what you’re looking for.”

A lump formed in Les’ throat. He had no doubt that she was stringing him along, and he was beginning to think that maybe . . . just maybe she was ready to follow through. The numerous beers he had already consumed that day were swirling in his head, making his vision foggy. He figured it was the beers, anyway, and not something this woman was doing to him. He reached down unconsciously and scratched his iron-hard erection.

“You’re married, aren’t you?” Allison said. It seemed to Les as though she was continually lowering her voice until it was a low, sexy growl. She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips and shifted seductively in her seat.

“Uh, yeah . . . yeah, I am,” Les managed to say.

“That’s right,” Allison said, tapping herself on the forehead, “I remember David mentioning that you got a girl pregnant and married her right after graduation. What was her name?”

“Uh, Leah . . . Leah,” Les replied, as though afraid to remember the name.

“Do you love her?” Allison asked. She lowered her hand and began to rub lightly in the cleavage between her swelling breasts. There was no doubt in Les’ mind as to her intentions now.

“Well, ummm, we, uh, we have our ups and downs like most everybody,” Les replied tightly.

Allison nodded knowingly and shifted forward in her seat. The material of her blouse parted, and Les was going wild at the view he got of her breasts. The aching in his groin increased until it was almost painful.

“And, uhh, and what do you do for work?” Les asked. The tightness in his throat made his voice sound like a croak.

“I’m a model,” Allison replied.

“Really?” Les said, then laughed nervously.

Allison scowled. “Why are you laughing?”

Les shook his head nervously, trying to force himself to loosen up. “I . . . uhh, I just thought that, uh, models had to be . . . you know, flat-chested.”

Allison’s smile widened slyly, then she said, “Well, I guess that all depends on what kind of modeling you do.”

Les almost choked again, then he said, “Yeah.”

“Does your wife work?” Allison asked. Again, she stroked her exposed throat with one hand. The other hand disappeared beneath the table. Les found that he was unable to reply, so he just shook his head.

“Hmmm,” Allison said softly. “That means she’s home every day.”