She closed the book on a finger and half-turned toward the sliding glass doors. “You hear something?”

“Hum-m?” Bern turned a page of Aviation This Month.

Alley was curled into the corner of the sofa, legs tucked under. “Thought I heard something– something moving about the yard.”

He glanced toward the doors. “Probably a raccoon. They’ve been digging in the flowerbeds again.”

“Really?”

“Mmm. Want me to go check?”

Alley set her book aside. “Naw. Don’t sweat it. You wanna ‘nother drink?”

“Better not. Flying tomorrow. Trying to keep a clear head,” Bern replied, studying the glass. “Regulations...”

Alley stretched, untangled her nude legs and rose to her feet in a singular, molten motion. “You and regulations, that’s a laugh. Bed early then?” And she crossed over to him, unbuttoning her shirt as she went.

He took in the sight of her small breasts, the saucy nipples poking out at him from between the lapels. “Well not too early. I mean– if you have other plans...”

She plucked up his empty whiskey glass and placed it on the floor before wiggling up like a three-year-old onto daddy’s lap. “Plans?” she scoffed. “You can start with these.” And she needled a nipple between his lips.

“Y-yes,” he sucked attentively, “you really must stop reading those damned romance novels.”

“Less talk and more lip-action, mister,” she scolded, and reaching down, she pulled his penis out.

“So much for a clear head.”

Alley shimmied her shirttails up, pulled the crotch of her panties one side and, holding him where she needed him, slid down. “I’ll give you head, but this first. I have my priorities...” And she picked-up the comma-shaped rhythm with her hips that felt so good against her clit and which, she knew, would quickly ignite her own private roller-coaster ride.

She thought of the movement in her back-garden and the security camera that was positioned under the eaves and pointed down. “You wanna spank me?”

“Oh Christ. Now what did you do?”

“Well it wasn’t my fault,” she replied defensively. “You didn’t leave me money for the pizza delivery.”

“So...”

“So I had to give the boy something, didn’t I? Or no dinner.” She held still on Bern’s cock a moment, then lifted off.

“So...”

“Well, so ... I went down on him.”

“Christ, Alley. You mean to tell me you gave the pizza boy a blowjob? And you expect me to kiss you later, knowing what’s been in your mouth?”

“It wasn’t such a big deal. He’s only sixteen. And he really didn’t taste that good.”

“Fuck. You swallowed?”

“Well, it was that or no god-damned dinner.”

Bern got to his feet, dumping Allie onto the carpet. “Please. Spare me the details. Get your ass into the bedroom and get your damned panties off.”

“Yes, sir.” Allie got up, rubbing the carpet burn. “You want me across the bed this time, or holding onto the back of the chair?

“On the bed, cock-sucker. Now.”

Maggie was getting ready for bed. She slipped out of her jeans and stood in front of the bathroom mirror in her underwear and turned off the water that was noisily filling the basin. The water glugging to a stop was the only reason she heard the sound of a hard hand beating on soft tissue. Except for that, she might never have known.

Maggie’s chin came up. Again, she thought, and she focused on her open bathroom window, listening hard. A low moan drifted on the night air, hardly discernible. Maybe she had imagined it. Or then, maybe she hadn’t. She dried her hands and turned off the light. The comfort of darkness closed about her and feeling transparent, she moved to the window and narrowed her senses on the house next-door.

“You like it when I spank you?” Bern had Alley sprawled across the bed-sheet, her panties loose about an ankle.

She lifted her head from the pillow where she stifled her cries. “It makes me feel like a bad little girl.”

“And reminds you of your father, no doubt.”

Alley shrugged, thinking back. “He used to beat me even though I had done nothing wrong.”

Bern rocked her ass with another slap. “That’s because he liked looking at your bare behind.”

“Ouch,” Alley closed her eyes to escape the sting. “I guess...”

“Whada’yuh mean, you guess? You were sixteen when he took a powder and his parting shot was to bend your ass over his knee.

Maggie waited silently. A minute passed; and then another. The breath of damp air was chilly on her skin and with a shiver, she dismantled her fears and reached to close the window. But before she could touch the glass, Maggie heard the man’s voice, harsh and unforgiving.

The slap was like the crack of a dinner plate striking the floor. Maggie thought of her phone. Should she intervene, call the police, perhaps?

But what business was it of hers, anyway? Maybe they liked down and drag ‘em out fights. And made-up for it afterwards– between the bed-sheets. Some couples were like that. Sort of a love-hate relationship. What business was it of hers?

Then he hit her again and Maggie’s stomach shriveled, from the inside-out. Jesus.

She closed the window and thought a moment. Damn, it wouldn’t hurt to take a look. She might need help, this time. And the thought of crossing into the neighboring yard and sneaking a peek through the bedroom window took hold with a queer tingling sensation in the back of her neck and lifting the hair of her scalp. Maggie inhaled deeply and headed to the side-door.

The whisper of cool, damp air on her back raised goosebumps along her arms and she jumped. Maggie was standing at the end of the neighbor’s hedge in her underwear. See what happens when you live alone, she chided herself. You head out the door, naked, and there’s no one to stop you. Maggie knew she should go back, put something on, but being half naked, at night, and in her neighbor’s yard, brought a naughty edge to her clandestine snooping.

Her nipples twisted in delight with the sexual tension.

Maggie placed her foot on the asphalt of their drive and deeking into the shadows, she skirted the fancy sports car and moved into the backyard where she knew a raised patio was situated next to the bedroom window. She knew because the house was a mirror image of her own and, well– this wasn’t her first visit.

Maggie cautiously approached the lit window from one side. She was inquisitive but smart enough to know it would be difficult to explain away her eavesdropping if she got herself caught. Poised next to the window frame, she held a breath and strained to hear. There was only the sound of crickets, the insistent dripping of an outdoor faucet somewhere and the scurry of a small night creature avoiding her footfalls.

Then there was a sob.

Maggie heard it from beyond the glass. A low, unbearably desperate cry, full of self-pity and denial. A lonely pleading sound that begged intervention from a cold humanity that was all too quick to turn its back on the unspeakable.

Screwing up her courage, Maggie peeked around the window frame.

Allie rolled onto her side and checked her laptop. A greenish haze drifted from the screen and through it, she could make out the shadowy details of her backyard– the lawn chairs, her birdbath, and the figure of a woman, crouched just outside the window.

The bedroom door flung back and he stepped into the room– her husband, a brute of a man, rolling up his shirtsleeves. In his hand he held a rubber hose the length of his forearm.

The girl’s reaction was immediate. She sat up, her face narrowed in terror. “Oh please. You can’t– no more,” she cried.

Shaking with rage, he reached for her. “The pizza delivery boy, for christ-sake. Who next? Maybe you’re feeling charitable toward an old wino? Wanna get on your knees and suck him off in a back alleyway? Or how about our bank manager. Drape yourself across his desk, sweetie, and see if you can get me out of a mortgage payment or two. Or the kid who pumps gas. How convenient. You don’t even have to get outta the car. You can open your mouth to him through the window. And you call yourself a loving wife...”

He took Alley by an arm and tossed her over, face-down. “Please don’t do this. No more,” she cried.

The girl staggered, tried to stand but he knocked her back onto the mattress and grabbed her between the legs.

He made a sharp lunge with his fingers knifed and Allie’s head came up– terror and disbelief bringing the moisture into her eyes.

Outside the window, Maggie was stunned. He had driven his fingers into her vagina. Or maybe her rectum. Maggie felt her head sag. Or probably both, she relented, but with the touch insanity swirling behind her eyes, she watched as he held Allie by the crotch and lifted the hose in the opposite hand.

“I’m sorry,” Alley was begging now, “I’m not so good. But please don’t beat me. I’ll make it up to you– any way I can,” she sniveled, her face buried in the sheets.

Maggie cringed as the man lifted his arm. “Shut your mouth. Now! Or so help me I’ll go to work on your fuckin’ face.”

The girl, on the verge of collapse, was racked by a series of body tremors. Her mouth was open and twisted horribly and her distorted face glistened with tears. “O-oh God...” her voice cracked and trailed as she reached for the edge of the bed.

He his arm came up.