the bunk and went inside the bathroom.
“I’ve already searched in there, so you might as well sit quietly until I tell you to come out,” said Thumper, closing the door.
Natasha sized up the situation. Even if Marcie did decide to run, she couldn’t open the door without it banging into Thumper … unless she got him completely up on the bunk with her.
Thumper looked at the bathroom door and then back at Natasha. He smiled and said, “I’ll tell you how this little game will be played. I’ll give ya a chance to escape. A real good chance. But if you take that chance and lose, then you fuck me and you fuck me hard. Understood?”
“You’ve got the knife,” Natasha said. “Is that what you call giving me a chance?”
“I said I’ll give ya a good chance. Here it is!” said Thumper, tossing the knife down beside Natasha’s hand and stepping back.
Natasha grabbed the knife and pushed herself back on the bunk, expecting him to attack. He stood where he was, then faked a yawn and turned his back toward her and gazed toward the exit.
Natasha leapt from the bunk in a flash, lunging toward his kidneys. Thumper sidestepped with ease and grabbed Natasha. Her scream was muffled as her face hit the floor and the sudden pain in her bent wrist caused the knife to clatter onto the floor.
Thumper kicked the knife away, then picked her up and tossed her back onto the bunk. “Guess you just lost your chance, bitch. Time to see if your peanut theory is all that funny!”
Natasha got her breathing under control, then begged, “Please … don’t hurt us.”
“You don’t wanna get hurt? Then fulfill your end of the bargain. Or should I take it out on her?” said Thumper, gesturing toward the bathroom door.
“No … not her. I’ll … I’ll do it.”
Natasha sat on the bunk, took off her jacket, and laid it beside her. Then she slowly unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it off. Thumper ogled her breasts, which were only partially concealed by her lacy black bra. Natasha used her hands to push herself slightly back on the bunk before undoing the top of her slacks. She stared at Thumper as she slowly pulled the zipper partway down, then stopped and gestured for him to come up on the bunk with her.
Thumper smiled and gave a nod toward the bathroom while taking hold of Natasha’s ankles. “Not up there, sweetheart.” He pulled her legs down off the bunk so that she was straddling his waist, then he undid his jeans and let them drop to the floor.
“I’ll be good,” whispered Natasha. “Just let us go after.”
“Yeah … sure. If you’re real good, maybe I will.”
Natasha sat up and slowly undid the buttons on Thumper’s shirt. When he tossed his jacket and shirt on the floor, she placed her hand on the back of his head and guided his face into her cleavage as she fell back down onto the bed. Thumper felt her clutching his hair while slowly pushing his head toward her stomach.
He watched her face as he kissed and licked her navel, while pulling down the rest of her zipper before sliding off her slacks and panties. He continued to lick and taste the salt from her body, slowly working his way down to her thighs. He felt her fingers massage and scratch his head and shoulders. She took her hands off him briefly as her body twisted and she moaned. He glimpsed her fingers as she clawed and raked the bunk beside herself like a cat in heat.
“Time to put this on,” he said heavily, reaching for the condom.
“Not yet,” whispered Natasha. “You said to be good. Make it last. Do what you’re doing a little more.” She massaged his back with increasing intensity then grasped his head, urging him upwards. He licked and kissed his way back up her stomach while arching her back with one hand and pulling her bra aside as his lips searched for her nipples. He felt her fingernails rake his upper back and neck as she pulled his face deep into the side of her breast while wrapping her legs around his.
“Back off with the scratching, bitch! That…” Thumper didn’t finish the sentence. He suddenly realized that he was lying in a warm sticky pool. He pushed himself upright as a torrent of blood flowed from the carotid artery in his neck like a severed garden hose. He grasped at the thin cut running lengthways up his throat and stared in horror at Natasha. She sat looking up at him, a bloodied scalpel in her hand.
“Consider yourself fucked,” she said. “Fucked hard.”
Spots of blackness swept over him as his brain starved for blood. He staggered back a step, then lost consciousness and fell backwards onto the floor. His heart continued to beat momentarily before it, too, accepted death.
Natasha dragged his body aside and opened the bathroom door.
Marcie saw Natasha’s body awash in blood and opened her mouth to scream. Natasha clamped her hand over her mouth.
“I’m okay. This isn’t my blood. The guy’s dead. I killed him. We’ve got to be quiet,” Natasha said, taking her hand away.
“What happened?” whispered Marcie. “What’s going on? How did you kill him?”
“I had a scalpel in my jacket pocket,” said Natasha, while putting her clothes back on. “Put it there one night when I went to the clinic to help Jack. Save the talk for later. We’ve got to get out of here.”
“That man. The one who told them to put us on this boat. I recognize his voice. He’s the one … the one who…”
“The one who molested you in the cabin?”
Marcie nodded, then said, “Why would they take us?
“I’m not sure, but they didn’t hide their faces, so that’s not a good sign. I’m guessing it must be a trap for Jack and maybe Danny. Come on!”
Natasha crept forward and peered out the exit. She saw two bikers standing at the back of the house. They were both carrying rifles and talking to someone through a window.
“Two of them are in the backyard with rifles. They’ve got their backs to us, but I can’t tell if someone in the house is looking this way or not. Are you a swimmer?”
“No,” said Marcie.
“See if we can find any keys to this thing.”
Both Natasha and Marcie searched for keys. There weren’t any.
“I’ve got to chance it,” said Natasha. “They could come back any second. You wait at the top of the stairs while I slip across to the boathouse on the other side. Maybe I’ll find something.”
Natasha peeked out the exit and saw the bikers disappear, one around each side of the house. She scrambled off the cabin cruiser and scooted across the dock to a small boathouse. She cautiously opened the door and saw a high-powered speedboat parked inside. She climbed in and frantically searched for keys.
She abruptly froze when the door to the boathouse opened, then realized it was Marcie.
“You should have waited!”
“I was afraid. Did you find any keys?”
“No.”
