Vulgarian Vamp (A Wendy Darlin Comedy Mystery Book 5) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Barbara Silkstone
Squirl pulled back the velvet spread, folded it into a circus-sized tent, and placed it on a sofa under the windows.
I checked the sheets for holes and mildew. Clear.
Thanking Squirl, we locked the hall doors after her but kept the door between our room and Kit’s ajar. I slipped into a flannel mom-nightie. Roger stripped down to his skivvies and fell into the bed like a rock. I peeked in at Kit. He snored lightly. Jet lag had caught up with the guys.
Being tired all the time was the only downside to my pregnancy. I couldn’t tell where poop from preggers left off and jet lag began. I felt like a wrung-out dishtowel.
I slipped into bed next to Roger and gazed out the window at the gray-blue sky and the tops of the green-black trees. The resort was pretty in a Hansel and Gretel way. Where was the witch?
Hovering on the edge of sleep, I awoke with one of those sudden jerks that happen when you feel you are falling from a dream cliff. Roger! That little stinker, his eyes had lit up at the mention of the staked monks in coffins. No way would he be able to resist those dead friars while I napped. What kind of fool did he take me for?
Maybe he was faking sleep waiting for me to nod off? I lifted his right eyelid and ran my finger lightly under his nose. No response. He was asleep.
Just in case he decided to wander, I pulled a drapery cord off the bed curtain canopy, tied one end around my left wrist and gently tied the other end around his right hand using a tricky double-knot I’d seen on the Discovery Channel. “Sorry, love,” I whispered, lying next to him. I watched him breathe in and out, in and out, the rhythm lulling me into a deep sleep.
The need to pee woke me. I thought I was a frequent pee-er before pregnancy, but now I felt as if I were going twenty times a day. The bedroom was dark. Someone had closed the drapes. I sat up and struggled from the soft mattress trailing the drapery cord from my wrist. My fiancé was not on the other end. I glanced back at his side of the bed. No Roger. I tied him to me like a puppy on a leash and now he was gone. That little shit!
I was going to kill him, but first I needed to tinkle.
The bathroom smelled of Pine Sol and bleach. It contained a potty, an ancient pedestal sink with two faucets, and a tub with a circular shower curtain and a handheld spritzer. The commode was an oldie with a tiny seat. Louts must have super small butts.
With a sigh, Little Roger and I had a satisfying pee. The toilet paper could have used some fabric softener but at least it didn’t contain the wood splinters I’d found embedded in the potty paper in Cairo.
I turned on the sink faucets and let them run for a bit. No telling how long the water had been sitting in the rusty pipes. Standing before the basin, I unwrapped a bar of pink heart-shaped soap and sniffed it. It had the scent of funeral roses. The mirror over the sink was pitted and peeling at the corners. My reflection told me I’d lost my pregnancy glow, if I ever had it. Dark circles cupped my tired green eyes.
The cold water trickled over my hands as I rubbed the soap with my palms. I glanced up at the mirror. A shadowy figure stood behind me. The image leered at me with two large canine teeth on either side of narrow purple lips. His white hair was pulled back in a ponytail and his boney face reminded me of a former real estate client after his last facelift.
The creature’s eyes spun like red and yellow pinwheels casting a hypnotic web that drew me in. My body refused to move, frozen in place. Little Roger booted me snapping me awake just as the monster leaned forward and sniffed my neck.
Keeping the creature’s reflection fixed with my eyes, I slammed my elbow back into him, not making contact, and spun around protecting my baby bump with both hands. There was no one there. I was alone in the room. A hallucination? Pregnant women have strange dreams, true, but I was awake and he was real.
I leaned my butt against the sink
I checked the sheets for holes and mildew. Clear.
Thanking Squirl, we locked the hall doors after her but kept the door between our room and Kit’s ajar. I slipped into a flannel mom-nightie. Roger stripped down to his skivvies and fell into the bed like a rock. I peeked in at Kit. He snored lightly. Jet lag had caught up with the guys.
Being tired all the time was the only downside to my pregnancy. I couldn’t tell where poop from preggers left off and jet lag began. I felt like a wrung-out dishtowel.
I slipped into bed next to Roger and gazed out the window at the gray-blue sky and the tops of the green-black trees. The resort was pretty in a Hansel and Gretel way. Where was the witch?
Hovering on the edge of sleep, I awoke with one of those sudden jerks that happen when you feel you are falling from a dream cliff. Roger! That little stinker, his eyes had lit up at the mention of the staked monks in coffins. No way would he be able to resist those dead friars while I napped. What kind of fool did he take me for?
Maybe he was faking sleep waiting for me to nod off? I lifted his right eyelid and ran my finger lightly under his nose. No response. He was asleep.
Just in case he decided to wander, I pulled a drapery cord off the bed curtain canopy, tied one end around my left wrist and gently tied the other end around his right hand using a tricky double-knot I’d seen on the Discovery Channel. “Sorry, love,” I whispered, lying next to him. I watched him breathe in and out, in and out, the rhythm lulling me into a deep sleep.
The need to pee woke me. I thought I was a frequent pee-er before pregnancy, but now I felt as if I were going twenty times a day. The bedroom was dark. Someone had closed the drapes. I sat up and struggled from the soft mattress trailing the drapery cord from my wrist. My fiancé was not on the other end. I glanced back at his side of the bed. No Roger. I tied him to me like a puppy on a leash and now he was gone. That little shit!
I was going to kill him, but first I needed to tinkle.
The bathroom smelled of Pine Sol and bleach. It contained a potty, an ancient pedestal sink with two faucets, and a tub with a circular shower curtain and a handheld spritzer. The commode was an oldie with a tiny seat. Louts must have super small butts.
With a sigh, Little Roger and I had a satisfying pee. The toilet paper could have used some fabric softener but at least it didn’t contain the wood splinters I’d found embedded in the potty paper in Cairo.
I turned on the sink faucets and let them run for a bit. No telling how long the water had been sitting in the rusty pipes. Standing before the basin, I unwrapped a bar of pink heart-shaped soap and sniffed it. It had the scent of funeral roses. The mirror over the sink was pitted and peeling at the corners. My reflection told me I’d lost my pregnancy glow, if I ever had it. Dark circles cupped my tired green eyes.
The cold water trickled over my hands as I rubbed the soap with my palms. I glanced up at the mirror. A shadowy figure stood behind me. The image leered at me with two large canine teeth on either side of narrow purple lips. His white hair was pulled back in a ponytail and his boney face reminded me of a former real estate client after his last facelift.
The creature’s eyes spun like red and yellow pinwheels casting a hypnotic web that drew me in. My body refused to move, frozen in place. Little Roger booted me snapping me awake just as the monster leaned forward and sniffed my neck.
Keeping the creature’s reflection fixed with my eyes, I slammed my elbow back into him, not making contact, and spun around protecting my baby bump with both hands. There was no one there. I was alone in the room. A hallucination? Pregnant women have strange dreams, true, but I was awake and he was real.
I leaned my butt against the sink
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