Read Online Day of Confession by Allan Folsom - Free Book Online

“Yes…”
    “I’m Adrianna Hall, WNN.”
    “I know…”
    She smiled. “You don’t want to talk to me…”
    “That’s right.”
    She smiled again. The dress looked too formal for her. “I’d had dinner with a friend and I was on my way out of the hotel when I saw you leave your key with the concierge…. He said you told him you were going for a walk. I took a chance you wouldn’t go too far—“
    “Ms. Hall, I’m sorry, but I really don’t want to talk to the media.”
    “You don’t trust us?” This time she smiled with her eyes. It was a kind of natural twinkle that teased.
    “I just don’t want to talk…. If you don’t mind, it’s late.”
    Harry started to turn, but she took his arm.
    “What would make you trust me—at least more than you do now?” She was standing close, animated, breathing easily. “If I told you I knew about your brother? That the police picked you up at the airport? That today you met with Jacov Farel…?”
    Harry stared at her.
    “You don’t have to gape. It’s my business to know what’s going on…. But I haven’t said anything to anyone but you, and I won’t until an official okay is given.”
    “But you want to see what I’m about anyway.”
    “Maybe…”
    Harry hesitated, then smiled. “Thanks—as I said, it’s late…”
    “What if I told you I found you very attractive and that was the real reason I waited for you to come back?”
    Harry tried not to grin. This was the kind of thing he was used to at home. A direct and very confident sexual come-on that could be done by either male or female—and taken by the other party either in fun or seriously, depending on one’s mood. Essentially it was a playful crumb tossed out to see what, if anything, would happen next.
    “On the one hand I’d say it was flattering. On the other I’d say it was a particularly underhanded and politically incorrect approach to probing a story.” Harry put the ball back in her court and held his ground.
    “You would?”
    “Yes, I would.”
    An elderly threesome came out of the bar and stopped beside them to talk. Adrianna Hall glanced at them, then looked back to Harry, dipped her forehead slightly and lowered her voice.
    “Let me see if I can give you a slightly different approach, Mr. Harry Addison…. There are times when I just like to fuck strangers.” She never took her eyes from him when she said it.
    HER APARTMENT WAS SMALL and neat and sensual. It was one of those things, sex that comes right up from nowhere. Heat that just happens. Somebody strikes a match and the whole place goes up.
    Harry made it clear from the beginning—when he’d answered her and said, “So do I”—that the subject of either Danny or the murder of the cardinal vicar of Rome was off limits, and she’d agreed.
    They’d taken a cab, then walked a half block, talking about America. Mostly politics and sports—Adrianna Hall had grown up in Chicago, moving to Switzerland when she was thirteen. Her father had been a player for the Chicago Blackhawks and later a coach for the Swiss national hockey team—and they were there.
    There was a click as she closed the door. Then she turned and came to him in the darkness. Mouth open, kissing him roughly, her tongue exploring his. The back of his hands so gently and expertly running over the top of her evening gown, teasing her breasts. Feeling her nipples harden as he did. Her hands opening his slacks, taking down his shorts. Taking his hardness in her hand, stroking him, then lifting her skirt and rubbing him against the thin silk of her underwear. All the while kissing and deep breathing as if it were for all time. And Harry slipping off her underwear, sliding her dress over her head. Unhooking her bra and throwing it into the darkness as she eased him down onto the couch, slipping his shorts from his ankles and moving up, taking him into her mouth. His head rolling back, letting her, then raising up on his elbows to watch as she did.