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Page 365
She couldn't even see the third bike. It was somewhere in the darkness under the remains of the garage door.
She beeped her horn.
'Come on out, guys. See what happened to your hogs.'
She scanned the front of the one-story house. The porch light was off, but the draperies behind the picture window glowed. The draperies didn't stir. The front door didn't open.
Maureen honked again. This time, she kept the horn blaring for a long time.
Nobody came from the house.
'They deaf or something?' she muttered.
She shut off the engine, took the key from the ignition, and climbed out. The rain poured down on her. It felt even better, more exciting, than she remembered. She stopped at the rear of the Jeep, threw back her head and arched her spine, savoring the touch of the water as it splashed her face and soaked through the front of her T-shirt. One hand held the keys, but the other was free to peel the shirt up above her breasts. The raindrops made her bare skin tingle. They tapped against her breasts, teased her nipples, slid down her body like the tips of tongues. Trembling, she pulled the elastic band of the shorts away from her waist and let the hot little streams run down to her groin and thighs.
Take off your clothes and lie down on the grass, she thought. Forget about Buddy and his friends. Let the rain . . .

 
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