The Straw Man Read online

  "Christ. Get a clue," she muttered. "No light mean no candy, stoopid."

  But the knocking went on and on. Steady and even, in perfectly spaced intervals. Knock… Knock… Knock. It was kind of creepy. The hair on her arms prickled. She sat up straight, trying to remember if she'd locked the door. The knocking grew louder, more insistent.

  Marie stood up with a sigh. This had better not be some stupid teenage practical joke like a flaming bag of poo. On the other hand, flaming poo would be preferable to being raped or murdered, she thought as a tingle of unease tickled her spine. Flipping on the porch light, she opened the door a cautious few inches, ready to say, "I'm closed for the night. No more candy."

  Standing on her doorstep was a tall, lanky man in a long dark coat. His face was angular and broad across his high, prominent cheekbones. His glossy black hair was straight and ended shaggily at his collar. A lock of long bangs fell across his forehead and over his straight, dark eyebrows. Slanted, almond eyes gazed at her intently as if he knew her.

  For a split second she felt she knew him too, but she couldn't place the face. "Yes? Can I help you?" She closed the door a half-inch, ready to slam it shut if he did anything weird.

  "May I come in?" His voice was low and husky and sent an unexpected shiver of lust through her body. It vibrated from her belly to her crotch like tickling fingers.

  "Um, no, you can't. Do you need something? Is your car broken down? Lost a trick-or-treater or something?" She scanned his body.

  He was wearing an old-fashioned, long coat at odds with his threadbare navy pants and the scuffed work boots on his feet. "No."

  "Look, I can call a wrecker, a friend or family member … the police."

  "No, thank you." He shifted from one foot to the other as if uncertain of his balance and continued to gaze at her with an expectant look in his eyes. Was he waiting for her to ask him in?

  Marie felt a creeping sense of deja vu as she met his gaze then scanned his body once more. It wasn't until her eyes focused on the fedora hat clutched in his hand by his side that the light flashed on. Her eyes widened. He was wearing her scarecrow's clothes. Why was he wearing her scarecrow's clothes? Maybe he was a wandering vagrant, a bum who had exchanged one set of rags for another.

  "Well, what do you want then?" She closed the door even farther, talking to him through a scant few inches of open space.

  A puzzled frown knit his straight, dark brows, as if the answer was obvious. "I'm here for you," he said simply.

  As if on cue, the wind rose, sweeping through the door and blowing through Marie's thin top, raising gooseflesh on her arms and bringing her nipples to two sharp peaks. Her crotch clenched and released in a hard spasm that wet her underwear. "You're … here for me," she repeated. "Oo-kay. Bu'bye now." She shut the door quickly, blocking out the stranger and the errant wind. She turned the lock.

  For a moment, she stood with her hands pressed against the solid wood, listening to the ominous silence on the other side, then she turned and dashed across the house to the window overlooking the fields. The moon's pale glow, glimmering through scudding clouds, lit the round curves of the pumpkins on the ground and the ragged corn stalks waving in the breeze. She focused on the 'T' made from two boards nailed together. It was empty of the straw mannequin she'd made. Her heart pounded. This guy was a loony. Who took scarecrow clothes and wore them?

  Marie jumped as the steady, insistent knocking started up again—Knock. Knock. Knock—in evenly spaced intervals that seemed like they might go on all night.

  "Stop it!" she yelled. "I'm calling the police. They'll be here in, like, two minutes, so you'd better run!" She went to the phone and lifted it to dial 911, but paused with only two of the digits dialed. Her finger hovered over the one as she thought about what had happened earlier that day. Her earlier portentous feeling was back full force. The something that was coming was now here for her.

  Standing in the field, she'd wished for a lover like the one in her imagination. She had looked up at the scarecrow and voiced her desire, "I wish you were alive," then that weird wind blew up from nowhere. If her life was a movie, it would add up to magic.

  "Don't be ridiculous," she muttered, but set down the phone. Walking slowly back to the door, she stood on her side of it and listened to the repetitive thumps for a moment. "Stop! Stop it!" she yelled again, and the knocking instantly ceased. "What do you want?"

  The muffled voice on the other side of the door replied, "You."

  "Do you know how fucking creepy that sounds?" Her voice was shrill and hysterical in her ears. "Go away!"

  "I can't," came the calm reply. "Not yet."

  "What do you mean, you can't? Turn around and walk away. Now, or I swear I'll call the police!"

  "I'm supposed to be here. You asked for me."

  Marie was stunned. Horror and an awful excitement coursed through her. She thought about the classic story, The Monkey's Paw with its "be careful what you wish for" motif. She pictured the man's angular, vaguely oriental face and realized who … or what he looked like. After all, she'd drawn the primitive image herself.

  "That's crazy," she murmured then raised her voice and said haltingly, "What am I, uh, supposed to do with you?"

  There was a long pause then that delicious, warm, rough voice answered, "Whatever you want. I am made to please you."

  Marie felt a hot blade of lust stab through her at the suggestive words. All reason and logic fled and only erotic images tumbled through her mind. Her crotch tightened and released wetly. She laughed aloud. "No, no, no, no, no. This isn't happening. Nuh-uh."

  "Please let me in. It's already getting late." He sounded urgent.

  "What does that mean?"

  "There's not much time."

  Marie frowned. She opened the door and peered through the crack. "Not much time?"

  He stood on her porch, broad-shouldered and rawboned, looking at her with those exotic, soulful eyes. "You only asked for one night."

  She felt her resistance melting. It was his dark chocolate eyes that did it. Between one breath and the next she suddenly and completely believed he was what she thought he was. The magic must be working on her too, breaking down her logic and allowing her to believe. There was no other rational explanation for what she did next. As he moved a tentative foot toward the door, she swung it open and stepped back to let him inside. A rain-scented wind blew in with him, bringing a scattering of dried leaves into the front hall. Moving slowly, as if in a dream, she closed the door behind him.

  The man looked around the room, examining everything in sight, a slight cock to his head, reminiscent of a dog sniffing out unfamiliar territory. Then he turned his gaze on her and smiled.

  Marie's already racing heart leaped, flipped and twirled before settling again to a steady thumping. His smile was warm, welcoming and familiar. It lit his face with the comfortable glow of a fire burning on a hearth. It was like a homecoming. She felt she'd known him her whole life, and he was a treasured friend. Her fears and doubts blew away like so many scattering fall leaves. She didn't stop to consider or second-guess as she allowed this stranger to step toward her and take her in his arms. Maybe her capitulation was part of the spell. Her will became as weak and liquid as melted caramel.

  She certainly felt unable to resist when he bent his head and covered her mouth with his. The lips that touched hers were warm and soft, the mouth wide and generous—just the way she'd imagined it. Just the way she'd drawn it. The thought made the hair at the nape of her neck rise, but his continued kissing put it to rest again. His tongue flicked out to trace her lips as lightly as a butterfly landing.

  Her mouth opened automatically beneath the touch, wanting more, deeper, harder. She put her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth even tighter against hers. She felt like she'd been fasting for years and had been suddenly served a five-course meal. His body was solid and real in her arms, the big frame towering over her so she had to rise up on her toes to kiss him. But his size wasn't
intimidating. Instead, she felt safe and secure, wrapped in his embrace, yielding to the increasing depth and passion of his kisses. His tongue ranged over the interior of her mouth, tasting her and teasing her tongue to response. The heat and wetness of his mouth invaded hers as their tongues twined together in a sinuous dance.

  She breathed in the slight moldy odor of the clothes and the dry, dusty scent of straw, and beneath them, the male musk of his pheromones calling to her. Oh yes, he was definitely real. The throbbing in her breasts and pussy verified it. This was no hyper-real fantasy induced by too many mini-Hershey bars. She was sure of it when his hands grasped her rear and pulled her tight against him. She felt the bulge of an erection through his loose-fitting pants. It pressed against her crotch and stomach, massaging her clit and sending a lick of fire burning through her synapses. Marie's heart pounded like a runner's and it wasn't from fear. She moaned softly and rubbed herself against him.

  There were far too many clothes in between them. She stepped back and pushed the heavy coat off his shoulders. He shrugged his arms out of the sleeves and it dropped to the floor in a black pool around his feet.

  She unfastened the buttons of his long-sleeved, blue work shirt one by one, revealing the hard, flat plane of his chest, his swelling pectorals with their tight, brown nipples and his taut stomach. His smooth skin was tawny and seemed to gleam slightly in the dim light of her front hall. A sprinkling of hair led from his navel down to the waistband of his pants. She shivered at the thought of where it led, and at the sight of the bulge filling the front of the old, black pants he wore.

  When she'd unbuttoned his shirt, she peeled it off his arms, stripping it from him like a wrapper from a piece of trick-or-treat candy. Her tongue flicked over her lips hungrily as she tossed the shirt aside. Beneath it the bulging muscles of his shoulders and arms sent a thrill through her. She ran her hands over his torso, feeling the skin like silk and the underlying muscle like hewn granite. The ache in her crotch intensified and her panties grew damp as she stroked him everywhere.

  He stood for a moment, eyes drifting half-closed and a soft groan coming from his lips. Another surge of lust liquefied her insides at the deeply male sound. So, he could not only give pleasure but feel it too. The knowledge brought an even stronger sense of reality to this bizarre situation. Whatever he'd been before, he was a flesh and blood lover for tonight.

  Cupping her face in his warm palms, he inclined his head to kiss her again, a soft, gentle exploration. She opened her mouth to his, pressing her hands flat against his warm chest and feeling his steadily beating heart.

  "So soft," he whispered. "Just as I imagined they would be." He nibbled her lips with little kisses.

  So hard, Marie thought, smoothing her hands over his chest. Just like I dreamed about. "I can't believe this. It can't be happening."

  "Why not? It's what you wanted. I'm what you asked for." His hands left her face to slide around her back, pulling her close. Their heat burned her skin through the thin fabric of her old, gray tank top. His deep voice was so intimate and the gleam in his eyes so hungry that Marie felt as limp as a scarecrow herself. Only his strong arms held her upright.

  She gripped his shoulders and looked into his eyes, frowning. "What's your name? I mean, what should I call you."

  "You know." He smiled. "You named me."

  "Sam?"

  He nodded.

  A wave of disorientation swept through her as she was reminded again of the insubstantial nature of her guest. "This is just so crazy. I can't believe…"

  He covered her mouth with his, halting her words and suspending her disbelief once more with his hot, wet kiss. His hands stroked up and down her back and stopped to rest above the curve of her buttocks.

  Threading her fingers through his thick, dark hair, she relished the feel of his hard skull and strong neck and the soft warmth of his tongue possessing her mouth.

  He slid his hands up her back to her shoulders and pushed the loose straps of her tank top off. His fingertips caressed her skin, sending shivers through her. He kissed a path from her mouth down her throat, stopping at the hollow where her pulse pounded. He sucked on the flesh there a moment then, humming a satisfied little "Mmm," pulled away and lifted the hem of her shirt up over her head.

  Marie raised her arms and let him take it off then instinctively crossed her arms over her bare breasts. Her cheeks burned and her skin prickled at the sudden nudity. Although the house wasn't chilly, another shiver ran through her.

  Sam tossed the shirt aside and gently moved her arms away so he could gaze at the small, pale globes with their dusky, pointed nipples. He reached out and covered them easily with his large hands, lightly squeezing and weighing them. Then he released them and toyed with her nipples, his thumbs brushing over each point until they were fully erect and hard. When he rolled each bud between his thumb and forefinger, the stimulation was too intense. Marie hissed at the erotic contact and thrust her chest toward his torturing fingers.

  She glanced at his face. His gaze was riveted on her chest, watching with obvious fascination her body's response to his touch. His lips were slightly parted and his eyes glazed with desire. Leaning down, he kissed the swell of each breast then nuzzled her left nipple like a seeking infant before sucking it into his mouth with hungry authority.

  Marie's eyes drifted part closed and she moaned her delight at the strong sucking sensation that shot a bolt of lust straight to her crotch. She pushed her chest toward him encouragingly, relishing the sight of his generous mouth wrapped around her breast, his closed eyes with their long, dark lashes resting in twin arcs on his cheekbones. When he released it from his mouth with a pop, the nipple and areola were glistening wet and as red as raspberries. He turned his attention to her other breast.

  While she enjoyed Sam's ministrations, she ran her hands over his strong shoulders and upper back, enthralled by the living flesh. Her logical mind reared its annoying head once more asking how this was possible. But she pushed the frantic, questioning voice out of her mind and tried to concentrate only on the delectable sensations in her breasts, and in her throbbing pussy. Her sex ached and she thrust her hips forward slightly, needing some contact there.

  As though reading her mind, or maybe her not so subtle signal, his hand moved down between her legs to rub lightly through her cotton sweats. The delicious friction made her even wetter. Her panties were soaked at the crotch. She ground against his hand, letting out a long, low moan.

  She wanted to see the rest of him now, wanted him nude before her. She pushed him back from her, breaking his contact with her breasts and sex, then she leaned to unfasten his pants. With the fly opened, the loose-fitting trousers dropped easily over his narrow hips and down to the floor. Her throat went dry at the sight before her. Whatever Sam had been before, he was all man now. His cock thrust out, thick and long, from a dark tangle of pubic hair. Beneath the rigid shaft swayed a heavy pair of balls. It was the kind of equipment that filled Marie's fantasies. And why not? If this was an erotic fantasy brought on by too much time alone and too many mini-Mars bars, why shouldn't it be perfect?

  She reached down and grasped him. His organ was ridged with veins, pulsing with life. It twitched eagerly at her touch. The head was smooth and purplish-red, already dripping in its eagerness for her. She wanted it in her mouth. Now!

  Dropping to her knees, she encircled Sam's shaft with her hand and guided the tip to her lips. With her other hand she cradled the hot, heaviness of his sac, hefting it and toying with the egg-shapes inside the soft, loose skin. Her lips closed around him and her tongue sampled the salty, smoothness of his head. She sucked him in deeper and deeper, engulfing more of his length as he gasped his pleasure.

  Glancing down, she realized his trousers were still pooled around his scuffed work boots. She withdrew her mouth from his cock. Sam cried out in protest. Marie unlaced his boots. There was no doubt they were her father's, salvaged from the basement and used to give her mannequin a pair of f
eet. But now they were tied over a real man's feet. She felt vaguely submissive, kneeling before him and removing them like this. The position gave her a stab of deja vu. She thought of how often she'd sat on her metal folding chair near the feet of the scarecrow, waiting for customers, daydreaming and gazing out across the pumpkins and cornfields.

  When she glanced up, he was staring down at her, eyes glittering with lust. She quickly pulled off his boots while he shifted his balance from one foot to the other. He kicked his discarded trousers aside, then stood before her completely naked. He was tan, long, lean and muscular, the perfect man of her dreams.

  Returning her attention to his cock, she grasped it firmly and moved her hand up and down while sucking the satiny head into her mouth. She hadn't given a blowjob since her brief relationship with Nathan a couple of years ago. It seemed her body remembered sex—the movements and feelings associated with it—much better than she could remember Nathan's face at this point. It was kind of sad that he'd left so little impression on her.

  Sam's hands entwined in her hair, holding her head steady as he thrust into her mouth. "That feels so good," he whispered. "I didn't know how good it would be."

  She was touched by his awed tone and at the realization that he was, to all intents, a virgin. The knowledge gave her a sense of power. She wanted to make this experience powerful enough to make him shout when he came. Slipping her mouth from his cock, she moved lower and licked his balls, tasting the salt of sweat, smelling the animal scent of a man. Grazing her finger over the sensitive strip between balls and anus made Sam suck in his breath sharply. She scratched him there lightly then circled her finger around the puckered hole, making it contract. He breathed out raggedly and his fingers tightened on her scalp. She sucked his balls into her mouth gently, first one then the other.

  He gave a guttural groan and thrust toward her mouth then back onto her finger that lightly probed his body now.