Page 19 of When the Snowman Whispered
“Okay. Cool.”
“You remember Eddie, right?”
“Of course. He was the top player on the team. How could I forget him?”
“Since Brett and you have been back, you never come off this property. I wasn’t sure if you remembered anybody.”
“That’s because we didn’t come back on happy terms.”
“I heard, but you’ve still been a stranger.”
“I’ll come around, eventually.” I walked over to my car, pulled out my keys, and went to the trunk.
“What are you doing?” Daniel asked.
“Getting my blow torch.”
“Why?”
“Because. . .” I lifted the trunk up and grabbed it. “Because, I don’t have a gun and you might need back up.”
“I won’t need back up, Faith and it sounds pretty quiet around here. I’m hoping all you heard were some deer.”
“No.” I turned to Santa. “They weren’t deer. I saw them.”
“But you don’t know what they look like.”
“It doesn’t matter. I saw them. It was four people.”
“Anything else? Men or women?”
“Both.” I walked over to Santa. “Two men. Two women.”
“Could’ve been some teenaged couples, searching for a place to make out.”
“In the snow?”
“You remember when we were in school?” Daniel’s voice lowered to that sexy octave it always did when he was getting turned on. “You and I would sneak off to the craziest places.”
Why would he bring that up?
Memories flooded my head—our tongues twisting and hands toying and touching.
His cock knew my body better than I did. He’d slip it in and out of me just so right and so slow. My young mind had no clue about that much pleasure, and being that I was his first too, we both were sprung on the other by the second time.
His love was a fine wine. One that even now my lips craved to sip.
Daniel had been correct. We would sneak off to the weirdest places—the old, haunted barn down creek road, the basement of St. Mary’s decaying church, and the Townson Memorial cemetery. Any place that gave us a few minutes of darkness and privacy served as the right spot to get it on.
I would ride him as he leaned against Alexandria Townson’s tombstone.
Even now, I knew her grave etchings by heart.
Alexandria Townson
January 30, 1920 – April 15, 1938
Deeply loved daughter.
