Irrevocable Trust

IRREVOCABLE TRUST

by

David R. Addleman

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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PUBLISHED BY:

David R. Addleman on Smashwords

Cover Art by Laura Shinn

Irrevocable Trust:

Copyright © 2011 by David R. Addleman

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

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CHAPTER 1

Susan McCutcheon lowered herself into the oversized tub. She'd turned out the lights so she wouldn't be reminded of her practically unused twenty-two-year-old body and its five-feet eleven inches of totally wasted voluptuousness. In the dark she didn't have to see her sensuous creamy skin or the long, floating blonde hair that men should have been crazy about. If I can't entice a decent man with all this natural equipment, what good is it, she wondered.

Her daddy made fun of her dark bathing ritual. For a long time he hadn't known about it, but eventually he noticed the dark line under the bathroom door.

Are you in there, Honey? he had called through the door.

Reluctantly, she answered, Yes, Daddy. I'm taking a bath.

The lights are out.

That's true, she said, trying not to sound sarcastic.

He waited a few moments. Well?

I relax more in the dark, she answered.

He'd gone away muttering something about getting out and chasing down a man. He wanted her to act just like other respectable women in Little Rock — find a man, marry him, and have a passel of kids.

Susan soaked in the steamy water and pondered her daddy's expectations. Chasing men didn't seem right to her, yet waiting for one to find her was a bore. Forget the marriage part, she thought. What I want, no, need, is to find a real man.

Nothing is wrong with me, except maybe that I'm too tall and I hate towering over some pip-squeak. My body is fine; I have good shoulders, firm breasts, and no man can complain about my firm bottom. According to all the women's magazines, men should be falling all over me. Then why don't they?

She guessed it was an old story. The ones who want you, you don't want; the ones you want, you can't get. A man who asked her out saw a pretty face and generous boobs. He was all groping hands and quivering lips, moaning and pressing his hardness against her — as if that would make her swoon. The myth of the Golden Penis, she thought. Most men forgot that particular myth when they grew up. Unfortunately, too many hadn't.

The men she wanted seemed to think that anyone with her looks wouldn't have enough brains to interest them. They ducked their heads and gazed elsewhere. Add to that her daddy's reputation for being a hell on wheels and the richest man in the county, and no man wanted to take a chance with her. I might as well be labeled "poison," she thought.

At sixteen she'd been initiated into the mystery of sex by Billy Henson. He was in and out so fast, she wasn't sure he was through, until he asked, How was it for you? All she'd gotten for her trouble was a stabbing pain and a burning that continued after he withdrew and flopped down beside her. If her daddy had known, he would have killed Billy. And, if Billy ever breathes a word about it, I'll do it myself.

Was it just Billy, or was that the great sexual experience the Cosmo women praised?

She sighed, slipping the sponge lightly over her breasts and letting the hot water cascade down her crevices. Are my expectations too high, she wondered. The men she met weren't even very bright. They can't all be stupid, can they?

Relaxing, her head against the rounded tub, she fantasized what she'd do with a real man. If one suddenly stepped into her bathroom, she'd pull him into the water and rip off his clothes. He would be tall, strong, smiling as he separated the wet strands from her face...

Susan smiled, trying to ignore the creaking sounds of the old house. Wait a minute, she thought. This house has never creaked that much before. Her body grew rigid.

A screech cut into the silence. It sounded like a nail being ripped from a board. And so close. Was someone forcing the window? Her gaze moved up to the window in the far wall. No, too high, she thought. Maybe the next room — the garden room, off the upstairs porch. She lifted her head to hear better, but the sounds faded. She realized the sound was being carried through the enamel-covered cast-iron tub and into her skull. When she lay back they came in loud and clear. Someone was on the upstairs porch, forcing the window. No — he was in the house. The pulsating silence seemed to expand and contract with her heartbeat.

Footsteps softly scuffed her bedroom carpet. She held her breath as the bathroom door opened and a shadow filled the doorway. Susan closed her eyes and froze. She heard him move stealthily away. Never again would she feel guilty about bathing in the dark.

She rose from the water an inch at a time, trying desperately not to drip. Sliding a towel off the heated bar, she dried and shimmied into her negligee. Susan lifted her glasses off the counter and slipped them on. Now that she could see, a little of her confidence returned.

She tiptoed downstairs to the gun rack at the foot of the stairs and pulled down the .410 shotgun. Again climbing the stairs, she moved quietly down the hall — keeping to the edge so loose boards wouldn't squeak — towards the small sounds of movement in Daddy's bedroom.

Peering around the door frame, Susan barely breathed as she studied the shadowy figure in front of the dresser. Her heart pounded so loudly it was a wonder he didn't hear. She pumped the gun to lever a shell into the chamber. The sharp noise was like an explosion in the silence. The man froze with his hand in the top drawer.

What are you doing? Susan asked, biting her lip at the stupidity of the question.

I'm not armed, the man said, raising his hands and turning to face her.

She flicked on the light and blinked in the glare. If you were, you'd be dead. Susan wondered if he could tell how nervous she felt. Despite the danger, she was intrigued. Not bad, she thought. Tall, trim, unruly brown hair. Hmm. A strong face, chiseled features. Beautiful green eyes. She saw that a brown knapsack hung over his left shoulder. I asked you a question. What are you doing?

Stealing half your father's money, the man said, as if he'd discovered truth worked best in these situations.

Susan couldn't keep from asking, How much is there?

The man laughed. Flipping through the bills, he replied, Fifteen thousand.

And you want half?

That's the plan.

Why only half?

Why be greedy?

She took a deep breath. I should call the police. A sudden warmth rose up through her body to engulf her. Her arms tingled with anticipation. What's happening to me, she wondered.

She remembered her excitement the first time she'd aimed the .410 at a pheasant. Her Daddy said it wasn't sporting to shoot a bird on the ground, so she'd waited and watched, trying to enter the bird's mind. A sudden swoosh signaled its flight, startling her into pulling the trigger.

Like that bird, this thief was hers. She could shoot him or let him go. The unwanted face of Billy Henson snapped into focus. Heat continued to build inside her. She wondered if this thief would be different. She pictured him on her bed, holding her. She swallowed with difficulty. Could I? Refusing to follow the thought further, she said, You'd better come with me, she said, ignoring his puzzled expression

Where to? he asked.

Down the hall. Keep ahead of me, and no funny business. I know how to use this thing.

He walked smoothly down the hall.

She noticed that he had a cute butt. Stop right there. Now turn left.

That's a bedroom, he said, looking puzzled.

Yes. It's mine. She found herself straightening as she walked. With him she didn't need to stoop and disguise her height. She wondered if he found her attractive. She followed him into her bedroom.

He stopped. Now what?

What's your name? she asked.

Paul, he answered, looking interested for the first time.

I'm Susan. It was now or never. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled and blurted, You're going to make love to me.

What? He grinned suddenly. How do you know I'm not gay?

Vibrations, she said.

His gaze traveled from her face to the gun.

She laid it carefully on the dresser.

His grin turned into a warm smile that nearly buckled her knees. Yes, he said. No hesitation.

She'd been right. He was no Billy.

She undressed quickly, standing naked before him, and immediately felt self-conscious. Should I stand up straight or slump casually? God, it's more complicated than I imagined. Her hands hung down. She crossed them across her breasts, then felt silly. She slipped off her glasses. He even looked good out of focus.

She had a million questions, but this was no time to ask them. She stiffened, realizing he hadn't yet undressed. Was he laughing at her?

Susan sat on the bed and held out her arms.

Paul sat beside her and hugged her.

Come to bed, she said.

May I undress, first?

Hurry, she said. Nothing was funny anymore. Ripples of fear swept through her body. She was completely vulnerable. He could be a rapist, a killer. Yet other feelings fought the fear, some she didn't recognize.

He took off his clothes and came to the bed. He gently pushed her back to lie down, then he stretched out alongside her.

He kissed her with surprisingly soft lips. A hand brushed the hair off her face, followed by his lips lightly brushing her eyes, her cheeks, her nose, her neck, and back to her lips. The tingling she'd noticed earlier amplified into a sweet roaring that took over her consciousness. Suddenly, as if a switch had been thrown, her every atom wanted him. She wanted him on her, in her. She wanted to blend with him, merge like two ghosts.

"Please..." she murmured.

His hands moved down her body. Her breasts came alive, the nipples tightening, almost hurting. He kissed them, rolled each around with his tongue and sent exquisite fire down into her belly.

She seemed to lose any sense of what he did then. There was more tingling sweetness in her groin. Pleasure grew until she could barely breathe. All at once, it stopped, he stopped. She felt suspended by thin wires.

No, she said.

He kissed her again and moved on top of her. His skin caressed hers. Their tongues met and danced together. She felt dizzy.

She grew aware that he was sliding into her. Such joy! Such overpowering sweetness. Her arms slid around his back, pulling him deeper inside her. The muscles moving under his skin made her feel like she was in his body as he moved smoothly in and out of hers. Never had she been more thankful that her body was strong. She arched up to meet each of his down strokes. Lovemaking was liquid fire, molten pleasure. She loved everything he did.

Later, as she lay burrowed against him, she realized that she didn't want Paul to ever go away. He was all the man she'd ever want. She breathed easily, feeling cool where sweat evaporated from her body. Her mind raced. If I keep him busy until Daddy gets home...

He stirred and touched her again, stroking her side.

The immediate response of her body thrilled her.

He pulled her close and kissed her.

Her arms snaked around him, pulling him atop her.

It began again.

When Paul finally withdrew, she kept her eyes closed and floated slowly down from Paradise.

He sat up, jostling the bed, and causing her to open her eyes.

She arched up and shook back her hair. Is something wrong?

I've got to go. Regret was plain in his tone.

Paul? she asked, her voice trembling. She had so many things to say, to ask...

He stood and pulled on his jeans.

A car passed under the window.

His body tensed. Muscles tightened across his bare chest. Who's that? he asked.

Daddy. Guess we took too long. Wanting to look sincere, she sat up, tailor fashion, and studied her knees. You're caught for sure, Paul. Unless... Pausing as if for inspiration, she said, I know. I'll tell Daddy you're my boyfriend from Texas A&M.

He was a web-caught fly, and from his expression he knew it. Quick thinking, he said reluctantly. Buttoning his shirt, Paul patted the roll of bills in his pocket, I'll clean up while you explain.

Susan quickly dressed with happiness vibrating through her. But, first, she said, holding out her hand, I'd better put back the money. She smiled until he tossed her the roll. She caught it neatly, wondering if that was admiration in his eyes?

Don't forget the shotgun, he said. His eyes held hers for an instant. She could read her future in that look. There would be long years together, sitting across breakfast tables, talking in cars, hungering for each other in crowded rooms. Their children would have his brown hair, his eyes...

How could she have guessed that everything would work out so well? Daddy would be proud she had caught a man. Regardless of how she'd snared him, she'd finally done what Daddy asked. All her instincts told her that Paul was a good person.

At the bathroom door, he turned and winked.

She felt giddy.

Susan scurried down the hall to her Daddy's room, where she replaced the money. She skipped downstairs with the shotgun. As she did, she heard water squeal in the pipes as it was being turned off in the bathroom. Paul would be ready by the time she returned. She turned from the gun rack just as the back door opened.

Susan raced up and threw her arms around her daddy. Whoa there, girl. What's all this?

A boyfriend of mine showed up. His name's Paul. I met him in college. She feigned a blush by lowering her head. He's cleaning up in my bathroom.

Her father looked shocked, but the crinkles at the corners of his eyes gave him away. It must be serious, if he's in your bathroom.

Oh, Daddy, she mock-blushed again. Don't talk like that.

His big arms pulled her close. She turned her face away from his whiskey breath. You know I trust you, girl, he said gruffly.

She pushed him toward the foot of the stairs. Come on up and meet him. She wondered if her happiness showed. I think you're going to like him.

The bathroom door was still closed. She knocked gently. Paul? No answer. Daddy looked expectant. Daddy, he's shy, she said. Go easy at first.

After a minute, she knocked louder. Paul. Frowning, she placed a hand on her Daddy's arm, You think he's all right? Her heart seemed to skip every other beat.

Her Daddy's face