Up until two years ago, Lisa Lassiter told me, she had been a completely faithful wife, even though her husband had been something less than a faithful husband. However, with the advent of her husband’s impotency, she began to look for her sex elsewhere.
“Because I didn’t like getting beat up. I don’t really regret having to do it, either. I never realized how much I truly enjoyed sex until I started having a variety of partners. It’s worked out quite well for me.”
Or maybe she was just making the best of a bad situation.
“What’s this about beating you and other women up?”
“Well, in the beginning, we’d try to have sex and when he couldn’t perform he’d get violent.”
“Did he ever hurt you badly?”
She held up one finger. “One trip to the hospital. He cracked a couple of my ribs. He was contrite for a while, but then it started all over again and that’s when I stopped trying.” She pulled the sheet up over her as if she was cold.
“So now he picks up women, or pays for them, and when he can’t perform he beats them up.”
“It’s never been reported to the police?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, but he’s never been questioned or arrested, that I know of. I guess he’s never killed one — ” and she stopped short.
I knew that what she was going to say was that he had never killed one “before.”
“Lisa, do you think he killed Penny?”
Her first instinct was to say no, but she shrugged and said, “I don’t know, Henry I really don’t know.”
Was all of this true, or was she trying to divert suspicion away from herself?
“I have to go, Lisa, “I said, sliding off the bed and starting to get dressed.
“Will you come back?” she asked.
“If I have more questions, yes. I’m sorry, Lisa, but I can’t — ”
“You don’t have to explain, Henry. You’re a nice man and you don’t like bedding another man’s wife in his own bed.”
Actually, that had been part of the kick, but I didn’t like the feeling so much now that it was over.
“You’re a nice lady, too, Lisa. I like you, a lot. Another time, who knows?”
She got up and I watched her pull her robe over her head again, holding tight to my resolve. Her arms in the air like that made her beautifully shaped breasts jut out toward me, but then the robe was on and they were gone.
She walked me to the door.
“Thanks for coming, Henry, don’t feel too bad. We both enjoyed ourselves. Is there really anything so wrong in that?” she asked.
“No,” I answered, “I guess there isn’t.”
Before opening the door she put her arms around my neck and kissed me good bye, a long, deep, sensuous, body rubbing, this-is-what-you’ll-be-missing, buster, kiss.
Walking down the walk to my car, I knew what I would be missing.
And I missed it already.