Girl With a Past Read Online Free

reached out and pulled me
close until his lips touched mine in a gentle, tentative kiss. I
wrapped my arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. He smiled
into my eyes, slid my arms off his neck, peeled off my jacket and
it hit the floor.
    Yes, I could do this; I wanted to do
this.
    His hand explored the center of my back. His
sly smile reacted to my lack of a bra.
    He removed my belt, lifted my tunic over my
head and eased me down next to him on the bed. His mouth crushed
mine. Then he kissed his way down my body and stroked feathery soft
touches on my breasts.
    My nipples hardened, and a growing warmth
traveled down to a yearning between my legs. His mouth
followed.
    Oh yeah, it definitely worked.
    * * *
    I’d finally satisfied Carol’s nagging me to
fuck someone new so I would realize there were other lovers
possible. She insisted I’d get over the one who had broken my
heart, and left me gun shy.
    But this didn’t feel right. I fought back
the post-orgasmic emotions, the urge to cuddle. He was too good,
too smooth, too practiced. I refused to fall for this guy just
because he was a skilled lover. In fact his skill was the very
thing that put me off. He was too good to be true, to be true to me
that is.
    A noise near the front of the house startled
me. Probably his housemates were coming home. I had to get out of
there. “Take me home please.”
    “What?” He pushed himself up on his arms and
studied my face. “Now?”
    “Yes.”
    “Is something wrong? Did I hurt you?”
    “I want to go home.” I turned my face to the
side; I couldn’t look at the hurt in his eyes. Just his ego that’s
hurt, I told myself. “Please, take me home.”
    He rolled off me. Turned his back and picked
up his jeans.
    I gathered my clothes from the floor and
scrambled into them. Tossing on my jacket, I threw my scarf around
my neck and headed for the door.
    Derek followed, grabbed my arm on the
landing. “Are you okay?”
    “I’m fine.” I pulled my arm from his grasp.
The twinge of guilt for hurting his feelings didn’t out weigh my
fear of being hurt again. Didn’t so-called liberated women
understand why the sex act was called “making love”? “Look, it’s
not you, that was . . . nice . . . very nice . . . just, just too
much for me. I’m not used to going so fast.”
    “Nice? That was nice? Not mind blowing? Not
fab? Or even bitchin?” Derek pulled me around so that he could look
in my eyes. “I’m sorry. For me, it was a lot more than nice.”
    I moved out of his arms, but waited while he
dressed.
    He held my hand; we walked down the stairs
side by side. He opened the door and guided me through the opening
with his arm around my waist. “One last kiss.” He pulled me to him,
brushed his lips across mine, nibbled on my bottom lip, and
groaned, “Stay the night, please.”
    I wrenched away and ran down the porch
stairs to the street.
    There was a loud bang, a car backfire? A
glimpse of a dark figure wearing a black hood, another bang, then
something hit my head, slammed it hard, knocked me down, my hand to
my head covered in warm fluid, sharp unbearable pain filled my
skull.
    Then merciful blackness closed in.
     

 
    Letter to the San Francisco Chronicle newspaper received May 1969
     
    PRINT THIS LETTER TOMORROW OR I WILL GO ON A
KILLING SPREE ON THE STREETS OF SAN FRANCISCO AND I GUARANTEE 12
DEAD IN ONE DAY.
    GOOD CLEAN HEAD SHOT
    A NEW LOCK TO MY COLLECTION
    WHAT the HELL IS THE MATTER WITH YOUNG GIRLS
THESE DAYS? USED TO BE SOILED WOMEN HAD LITTLE CHOICE BUT TO SELL
THEMSELVES. NOW THEY CALL IT FREE LOVE!
    LOT OF WORK TO DO.
    GOTTA PURGE THE WORLD OF THIS FILTH.
    ROLL IT
    SHOOT IT
    MARK IT WITH Z
    PUT IT IN THE OVEN
    FOR BABY AND ME
     
    ZODIAC
     

 

     
CHAPTER
    1
    San Francisco, March 2008
     
     
     
    My name is Alexandra Nichols, but everyone
calls me Al. Even my dad.
    Usually the best way to talk to my father is
to visit his office in San Francisco, but that day he was totally
into a case he was