Page 26 of Race With The Devil

CHAPTER NINE

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“Oh, hi, Unity.” Barbara Stanford apparently knew her.

But Unity seemed surprised, putting her splayed hand to her chest. “Did we meet?”

“Oh, not directly. I just knew of you from being in Lavinia’s circle. She talked about you endlessly, your beauty, the ads you modeled for, the trade shows where you swung from—from—“

“Slings,” said Unity, giving me a hefty helping of side-eye.

God love me, I could picture this long-legged banging hot woman swinging in a sling like a helpless babe. I’d been into BDSM in my time, and I knew innately she wasn’t the right partner for that, not with her history. But sinking my fingers into her soapy hair, my cock ballooning like the Goodyear blimp, straining my jeans so tightly I later saw a dark, round stain of pre-jizz there, well I knew I had to do something.

But with such a skittish doe . . . what?

Unity continued on. “Well, we were just wondering, Barbara. Tutti got a weird gmail from someone named Sideshow Barbara, and I know you go to sideshows.”

Barbara frowned, her squiggly black and white hair bobbing in her heavily lined eyes. She’d been friendly up ‘til now, her arm running up her doorjamb as she posed. Now her eyes narrowed. “Why the fuck would I email Tutti? I don’t even know his email address. He’s a scumbag as far as I’m concerned, a real cockbite. I just got back from a search party in Flag with a bunch of friends, checking places she liked to go. I was close friends with Rael Standing Cow, killed the other night after ODing on Tutti’s designer drug. No thanks.”

“You understand, Barbara,” I said. “We’re trying to get to the bottom of this too. We have to follow all leads, and you’re the only Barbara friend of hers we could find.”

She melted a shred. “I’m not really one for the computer. I don’t even have a gmail account. I have the one that comes with Comcast. Hey, come in! Take a look at my laptop, see how unsophisticated I am.”

Wolf quickly identified Barbara’s IP address, searched for gmail, and shook his head solemnly. Another dead end.

Out front, Unity said, “She could’ve created the Sideshow gmail address and sent it from that FedEx Office.”

“I found no sign of Sideshow Barbara on her computer,” Wolf said. “We’ll go down to the Route 66 FedEx and check all the computers. Tell them I’m looking for the one my dad used before he passed away, something like that. Beetle, what’m I gonna do with you? I’ve got Bellamy and Speed on the lookout for a good sidecar for him, but for now I’ll leave him at the Bum Steer.”

“I hope no one steals him,” I called out as the dog willingly went with Wolf to the bar and grill. “He’s awful damned cute.”

Wolf turned his head as he continued striding. “Steal a dog from a biker bar? Who’d be that moronic?”

This time, we were back to my favorite method of transportation—me riding bitch behind the shapely human canvas. Now her hair smelled like flowers and, well, soap, although the shampoo I’d chosen called it ginger. Shampooing Unity Mitford had been oddly the apex of eroticism. In many ways the experience was more highly-charged than being blown by Joy, even in an old telephone booth or in the front seat of my Camaro in ten mile an hour rush traffic. Unity’s particular brand of sensuality brought a whole new level to the game.

I knew when she’d opened her eyes in the salon chair that she’d caught a heaping eyeful of my big horse cock, fixing to bust loose the buttons of my jeans. I had no fucking qualms about displaying it like that. What, was I going to turn around with my ass facing the mirror just so she wouldn’t be shocked by my hard-on? It was a nice animalistic way of telling her she made me hot, without confronting her in a manner that would make her turn tail and run.

And her big, natural boobs. I found that if I fingered her scalp energetically enough, her boobs would bobble in the low-cut tank top. Lest I sound like a lowdown, selfish dick, I was mainly concerned with grooming her. I’d wanted to shampoo a lady since reading about the similarities between animal grooming and our own body modification. The scenario fit perfectly with the nervous Unity, her pierced lip curling upward, her cheek studs dimpling, her eyebrow hoop trembling. I was encouraged. I’d even fantasized about taking her in a hot tub, or even, briefly, under a waterfall. For we were both just animals at heart and should approach each other as such.

At first, Joy’s unexpected texts tore me apart. I didn’t even know if I was capable of focusing on this new job of finding Lavinia Dock. Not normally a drinking man, I drank myself into a stupor the first night, paying for it the next day. The issue was obvious. She wanted me back, and I could go back. She wanted to merge both our dog rescue farms into one huge ranch. Best, she would come to St. Louis. I wouldn’t have to return to West Memphis, the stage of all my early sorrows.

What was behind her sudden yearning? The guy Josh obviously hadn’t worked out, that she swore “this time.” How many more times would I act the fool in her drama? Once a cuckold, always a cuckold. And the worst part: I’d always suspect her… A handsome guy would come in wanting a forever dog, or a vendor who could build us a new holding pen or agility stairs, or a fucking milkman, it didn’t matter who. I’d always be suspicious. I would never be able to feel secure with her, and for that reason I kept telling her no. No. No, I won’t be your boyfriend again. No, I can’t give it another try.

I felt good and moral about my choice, of course, as we breezed toward Flagstaff in the chilling November air. Unity seemed oblivious to the cold in her tank top and still-wet hair under her lid. I should have offered her my leather jacket. What a selfish scum. No wonder Joy had preferred Josh over me. I was a selfish scum who only thought of himself—and his dogs too, presumably—and didn’t have enough room in his heart for anyone else.

We parked a few lots away from the FedEx, knowing they’d have cameras. Wolf Glaser had taught us how to get into the DOS operating system and search for any login by a Sideshow or a Barbara. Wolf knew how to get much farther into the system, so it was more likely he’d find something, but at least we were looking as if we were helping.

I acted casual, like I was just logging into match.com and calling myself “Biggus Dickus.” The guy behind the counter was obviously keeping an eye on us because we worked on black screens, and Wolf had not yet given the clerk the story of the dead father we allegedly searched for.

“I have to thank you,” Unity whispered, working at the next computer, “for that incredible shampooing experience. I see what you mean about grooming. People should do it all the time. Like, massage each other with scented oil.”

My cock twitched. “Oh, is that the next step you’d like to take?” I said it teasingly, so she couldn’t accuse me of wanting too much from her.

She shrugged her bare shoulders. “Why not? You said it’s all about learning to trust, especially for someone as damaged as me. Can I trust you? Hmm. We’ll see.”

I said, “Another step to trust is for you to touch me. It can’t be all one-sided. Are you afraid of men? You can be honest with me.”

“Oh hell to the yeah, I’m terrified of men. I be pissing myself like spare waterfalls when I notice they have interest in me.”