The White Box - Sex Stories

The White Box

... they’ll assume you took the wrong road and left the car once it was disabled. Being disoriented in the dark you went the wrong way. Now, I’ll admit to stacking the deck against you; there are bears—blacks—as well as coyotes in this area. The bears will smell the honey and come after you. If you make it until nightfall the coyotes will smell Rolf’s blood. It will be a miracle if you make it until this time tomorrow.” I walked over and removed Rolf’s handcuffs and slip-ons then pulled Dana’s from her wrists and feet. Saying not another word I walked slowly to the car and drove away. Dana slowly rose to her feet, pulling Rolf up to join her. Slowly they trudged in the direction I had driven. That was exactly as I had anticipated. I had driven a good ten miles into the woods before turning and taking a circuitous route as I doubled back—they were walking deeper into the woods—farther and farther away from any possible help. I put them out of my mind as I drove away, retracing my earlier steps until I turned back toward the distant town. I stopped more than ten miles away near a small stream where I carefully washed the wood and tacks of Rolf’s balls. I could see small fish gobble up the remnants of his reproductive glands. Driving another mile brought me to a small glacial lake. My dad and I had sometimes fished this lake so I knew the water was deep. Now it was part of a nature preserve belonging to a big national organization. I was trespassing; there was no hunting or ...

... fishing allowed. I heaved the clamp and the vise grips I had used into the deep water where I doubted they’d be found for another ten years. Even if found I doubted there would be any connection to the disappearance of Dana and her lover. The large rock was exactly where I expected it to be. It rose up from the ground almost two feet, but was barely visible in the tall grass. Bracing myself I sped up onto the rock, relying on my seat belt as it tore the thin steel pan out from under the engine. Turning, I ran the big vehicle under a group of tall pines where it would be hidden from a plane or helicopter flying overhead. Dana’s suitcases full of her clothes and jewelry were moved from the back seat into the rear of the SUV. I left the rear hatch and the windows open knowing that birds and animals would destroy the vehicle’s interior. The final things I pulled out of the car were my backpack and the ropes. I hadn’t been much of an athlete in my youth although I played a fairly decent game of golf now. Instead of sports, I was involved in theatrics all the way through graduate school. Now I used my experiences with makeup to advantage. There was no way that Martin Bellamy would be recognized anywhere near here. Instead, a wizened old man, a person who could never be found or seen again would walk out of the woods. The small mirror was leaning against the backpack as I applied the spirit gum that would hold my fake gray beard in place. It was long and matted. Once that was done a gray ...