Tracking Time

Twenty-six

After the dog search and their encounter with the cops, David and Brandy were still a little high. David wanted Brandy to come to his place, so they took a taxi to the East Side apartment where his parents never were and the maid they called his nanny had already gone. The place was like a museum after closing, dead and deathly quiet. Not even the phone ever rang there. David took Brandy into his room.

"Want to see something to get you in the mood?" he asked.

"The mood for what?" Brandy bounced on his bed, knowing what this did to him.

"You promised, Bran, don't let me down again, okay?" he said angrily. He opened his laptop and turned it on.

She laughed. "Fine, let's see a movie." She knew he could show movies on the computer.

"This is better than a movie." He clicked a few buttons and brought a picture up on the screen that blew her away.

"Wow." She studied it with her thumb in her mouth. At first, like with her dad last night, she couldn't figure out what the two people were doing. Then she got it. "Holy shit!"

He clicked to the next one, then the next, and the next, running them quickly to show off his collection.

"Wait a minute, will you? Wow." She didn't know which interested her more, the spread legs and pussies of the old women, the young girls licking each other's teeny breasts, or the mature women with tits as impressive as hers in a threesome with a man whose cock was bigger than anything she'd ever thought existed in real life. She clicked her tongue pierce against her teeth and slapped at David's grabby hands when he swiveled around in his chair to get to her.

"Jesus. Is that thing real?" She hung over his shoulder, mesmerized. The picture showed a kid, maybe sixteen, seventeen, with his cock sticking straight up. It looked like a mushroom on a thick stem, huge, much bigger than David's. The boy's chest and belly and thing took up nearly the whole space except for the little girl with blond hair, about five, on the lower right of the screen looking at it with her mouth open and her little tongue showing. The title was "Little Sister 1."

David laughed. "Of course it's real. Want to see more?" "Little sister 2" showed the blond girl lying on her back with her finger stuck in her little hairless pussy and a different boy with a different-shaped penis hovering over her.

This made Brandy uneasy. "Do they do it?"

"Nah. In this series she just does blow jobs." David clicked and the picture disappeared, then clicked on a file called "Mom and Pop." In that one, a woman who looked a lot like Brandy's mother was on her hands and knees in a black bra with the nipples cut out. She had big tits. A guy as gorgeous as Brad Pitt with another huge cock was fucking her from behind. This one was a video, and Brandy could see the thing going in and out. She'd never seen anything like it. She wondered if he was doing it in her ass and noticed that the man was not wearing a condom. This made her uneasy, too.

David was all turned on by the pictures and her breathing on his neck. He swiveled the chair around and pulled her over so that she was standing between his legs. It annoyed her at first, but then he reached under her angora sweater, squeezed her breasts, and started breathing so hard she thought he'd have a stroke. She giggled and rubbed against him, undecided how far she'd go. He wasn't a very good kisser, but his cock was up there, and she almost felt like it. Almost.

"Oh, Bran," he moaned, pulling her over to his bed, a queen. A nice big bed with a bedspread that Brandy recognized as a Ralph Lauren. She liked the fifty-three-inch TV, too, but was not interested in it at the moment.

The laptop was on the desk. The same scene played over and over on the computer. David got on top of her, but Brandy kept her head turned away from his sucking kisses. She focused on the screen, where the cock kept going in and out. She liked watching it. David moved on top of her, trying to figure out what to do next, and she felt his cock trying to bulldoze through his clothes. His weight was crushing her.

"Daavvvid!" she complained.

"You promised."

"Show me another one."

Grumbling, he got off her. He was all rumpled and red in the face. He sat at his desk and clicked on another file for her. She jumped up to see it better. This one showed a young boy with an older woman sitting on him. David returned to the bed and pulled her between his legs again, rubbing against her frantically. Then suddenly he stopped. Brandy was disgusted. He hadn't even started and he'd come in his pants. So much for that.

He got very subdued and showed her the "Daddy" series to remind her of what she'd seen her own daddy do last night. Then they drank some of his father's New Amsterdam beer. After that he felt better and wanted to try sex again. He knew his mother wasn't coming home for hours. But Brandy had another idea. If he was such a good driver, why didn't they take his parents' Mercedes out of the garage and go for a ride.

"Fine," he said. He was pretty high on Brandy at the moment. He'd drive to the end of the earth if she asked him to.

They went downstairs to the garage in the building and took the Mercedes out. The attendant knew David and didn't question them. David was not nervous at all. He'd driven the car before with his driving instructor, but never at night. This time, as soon as he got in and adjusted the seat, he felt great right away. They headed out to Long Island, filled the tank at a gas station in Queens, got some junk food to eat, and he was thoughtful enough to use cash so his parents wouldn't find out. They were out for a few hours driving around, and David didn't hit a single thing even though it was night. He could read maps and everything.

Brandy crashed into a dark mood when he told her they had to go home. She wanted to stay on the road forever. They had money, credit cards. "Why not split?"

David snorted. He was angry at her getting him all messed up again. He had long since sobered up, and by ten-thirty he was thinking about all the cops she'd talked to in the park and given their names. That was an irresponsible thing to do, considering that bum who'd seen them there. He was worried about that bum.

"Come on," Brandy whined. "It's early. Don't be such a dork."

"Look, Bran, my mom will be home soon. And I have stuff to do."

She blew air through closed lips. "What stuff?"

"I'm not sure. Who knows, he may have been breathing. Maybe I should make sure he's dead." He didn't mention the bum, didn't want to scare her.

"So what if he's alive? He'll die soon. How long could he live without food?"

"It was your dumb idea that they try another dog tracker. If they get Zumech and Peachy out there, for sure they'll find him tomorrow. When they do, he better be dead."

"It's your own stupid fault. You should have made sure he was dead before we left. I thought you were so OCD."

"What's that?"

"Obsessive compulsive. You know." She twirled her finger around her bangs.

"Shut up, you idiot. I'm ADD."

She snorted. "Crazy is crazy."

"You don't know what you're talking about," David raged.

"You're so fucking crazy, David. What difference does it make?"

"Don't call me crazy!" David said menacingly. Sometimes she got so flaky he wanted to squeeze her neck to shut that damn blabbing mouth of hers.

"Well, what do you want to do about it, asshole?"

"I want to talk to Zumech."

"What for?"

"Just do," David said vaguely.

Brandy shrugged. "Whatever."

He was silent as he drove to Zumech's place. He wasn't sure why he wanted to see him. He just knew that was where he needed to go. It was on the south shore of Long Island, not far away. In less than ten minutes they were cruising past his house. There was no sign of him. No sign of Peachy in the dog run. The lights were on in the house, but no one came to the door when they rang the bell. He had an idea. He tried the side door of the garage. It was open. Zumech's car was there, but it was locked. The garage had a weird smell. David poked around for a few minutes, looking for the source. When he found it, Brandy realized what he was doing. They gave each other the high five because now they really could fake out any tracker alive.

In great spirits, they drove back into the city across the bridge, and the car was back in the garage long before midnight.

"See you," David said when they got outside.

"What are you talking about?"

"You're going home now."

"No, I'm coming with you."

"Uh-uh. You take too many risks. I have to do this myself." The truth was he was getting tired of her and wanted to fix the situation himself. It was serious now. He had to do this thing his own way.

"You're not treating me right!" she said accusingly. She looked really mad.

His cheek twitched at the unfair accusation. It was the kind of thing his mother said to his father. He relented.

"Oh, all right. Just do what I say and keep quiet."

A dog walker in a sweat suit jogged by with a golden retriever on a retractable leash. David hailed a cab, shaking his head at having given in. It made him feel like a loser. She got in with him, all cheerful again, and they took a cab to the West Side.

They entered the park in their usual place, walked north, watching for homos, the homeless, and the place where the lights ended and the Ramble began. Across the water, near the spot where the tracking dog had lost the missing man's scent, was the same girl who'd been hanging around last night. She was sitting alone on a bench under the light where the police call box was.

Brandy shuddered. "That girl has a death wish," she said.

At least she didn't turn to look at them as they turned east and went deeper into the park. David didn't hear the remark. He was thinking about the bum who always bothered them, who'd seen them last night and happened to be a piece of scum no one in the world would miss. He was excited by his plan to rid the earth of a troublesome cancer.