In happy anticipation of his new job Phil Arden leaned against the rattling truck door and watched the pale sky brighten and turn pink with the rising run. Colored puffs of clouds on the eastern horizon were as pretty as a painting.
It was a warm spring morning, bursting with newly-blossomed flowers. The grass beside the road shone with a thin layer of dew like thousands of sparkling jewels, while sparrows darted up from the hedgerow and scattered across the sky.
Behind him in the van, the empty milk cans rattled each time the wheels hit a bump in the road.
Lighting a cigarette, Phil watched the young man behind the steering wheel who was peering intently through the windshield at the winding road.
The man's name was Harvey. Phil hadn't caught his last name when Mr. Brooks had introduced them this morning at the creamery. But it didn't matter, because Harvey was quitting his job and moving to California. Soon Phil would be driving the truck on his own milk route.
Already he knew that it going to be a good job, the best he had had since he finished high school almost a year ago. He felt lucky, because it wasn't every day a young man could get a job driving a milk truck. Especially with so many men out of work around town.
The pay was good, but best of all, he would be his own boss. It was going to be nice to get up before the sun, when the air was fresh and everyone in town still was in bed. He knew it would be a breeze to drive the truck all by himself down country roads, stopping now and then at farm houses along the way to pick up cans of milk and leave the empties.
The man named Harvey rolled down the window on his side, without taking his eyes from the road. He cleared his throat and spat, then he turned to Phil with a grin.
"I believe you're gonna like this job, buddy."
"Yes," Phil said. "I'm sure I will."
"You study that map I gave you while we make the rounds, and you won't have any trouble."
Phil nodded and unfolded the map. It was a county map with the route marked along the roads in red pencil, and with x's at each farm where they made a stop.
"Since I'm leaving the country," Harvey said, still smiling, "I reckon I'd better turn over all my women to you. I figure you can take care of them. You look like a pretty healthy buck."
Phil gaped in surprise. "Women?"
"That's right, buddy. I'll bet you never even figured that angle when you took this job. One of the benefits old man Brooks didn't mention when he hired you. There's forty-six farms on this route. Now you know, out of that many, there's bound to be some females doing without and just aching for a man. I only picked the choice. You'll see."
Phil didn't quite understand what Harvey meant, but his guts twisted in his stomach. Could it be that Harvey had been sleeping with some of girls that he had met along the route?
Phil looked at Harvey, who was darkly handsome. He could understand why certain women might make a play for him. But Harvey had said that he was going to turn them over to him.
The thought stirred his blood, but then he felt a pang of fear. Girls still frightened him a little. He was not sure he would even know how to go about making love to a girl if he ever got one alone.
Because of his shyness, he had dated very few girls in high school. So his experience was very limited. Though with Emily Kendricks it had been a simple matter, because all he had needed to do was to let her make the advances.
That was the time in Tubby Johnson's barn one evening after school when Emily had gone with Tubby and him to play in the hayloft. At first Phil had been angry, because he did not like girls hanging around. But after Emily took her dress off, he grew curious and he began to feel all kinds of strange desires.
She lay down on the hay between Tubby and him, and soon they were both taking turns with her. It had been very exciting because it was the first time for him. But ever after that, when Emily had tried to persuade him to go with her into the barn again, he had gotten cold feet and had run away.
And there was one other time, when he had been delivering groceries for Meyer's Market. A woman with long reddish hair had opened her housecoat and pushed up to him before he could get out the door. She had kissed him and forced him to crawl on her upon a daybed in a small room off the kitchen.
But those two were the only women he ever had made love to. Getting a woman was not easy if you were shy and had no knowledge of how to go about it. Not that he didn't want to have more such experiences-but he just was not sure of himself.
"I hate to go away and leave them nice women," Harvey said, with a wink, "but my brother is sick and he needs somebody to help with the business. So I ain't got much choice. I'll tell you one thing-this job is a natural if a man wants to build himself a stable of women. They sure get lonely out on the farm. You know Art Duver on number three route has got a string of six females. But he's greedy and there's a couple of culls I wouldn't have touched. If you want to know the truth, them six women are about to break Art's back."
Harvey raised his foot off the gas peda.I and began to apply the brakes. The big truck slowed and swerved heavily as Harvey turned into a farmyard. They rolled past a green barn, scattering a flock of chickens, then came to a stop beside a small wooden shed where two milk cans stood in front of the door.
Harvey turned to Phil and grinned.
"Well, this is the first stop on the route, buddy. And this is where you get your first piece of tail. Name is Molly. She's ready to go any time her old man ain't around. Pretty, too. And old enough to know what it's all about."
"What do you mean-her old man?"
"Her husband. What do you think I mean?"
"Oh," Phil said, shaking his head. "Well, if she's married, I don't want anything to do with her."
"What's wrong with that?" Harvey said, with amazement.
"It isn't right...."
"Well-" Harvey spat out the window. "Suit yourself. Two of the gals ain't married. You can stick with them, I reckon."
Phil found it difficult to believe Harvey, but the whole idea was exciting. It was almost unbelievable that there were girls along the route who would be willing to give themselves to him. He wanted to know more about it.
"These girls...." he said, stammering awkwardly. "Are they really ... loose ... as you say?"
"That's right, buddy. Now you take this Molly. She'll do it like you've never had it before. She'll turn you every way but free."
Phil shook his head incredulously. When he saw a woman come out the back door of the house and walk across the yard toward them, his knees began to tremble.
She seemed to be about thirty years old, a full-bodied woman with large breasts and firm-appearing thighs. Her light brown hair was pulled tight against her head and tied in a bun at the nape of her neck. She had wide brown eyes and full lips. She was smiling as she came up and leaned in the window on the driver's side.
"Hello, Harvey," she said in a dulcet voice that sent a tremor down Phil's spine.
Harvey reached out the window and patted the woman's hip.
"Hi there, Molly. This is your new route man. His name is Phil. He's taking over tomorrow."
"Oh, Harvey," she said with a pout of her red lips. "You're not leaving, are you?"
"Yep-I've got to leave you."
"Where are you going?"
"Moving to California."
"All the way to California," she said, unhappily. "That's so far away."
"I know," Harvey explained. "But my brother is sick and I've got to go out and help him run his business. He's got a motel in San Bernadino."
Molly laid a hand on Harvey's arm and squeezed, clenching his flesh with her red fingertips.
"I'm gonna miss you, honey." Her voice was soft, passionate. "What am I going to do without you?"
"Well," Harvey said, with a grin, "the kid here is taking over all the chores. I reckon that will include about everything...."
Molly leaned her head lower and studied Phil, making him blush. Her eyes were soft and brown under delicately arched brows. They seemed to see right through him.
"He's a nice-looking boy," Molly said with a smile, as though she were judging livestock.
'Now you take care of him," Harvey said. "Treat the boy right after I'm gone."
"Oh, I will...."
Molly laughed. She pursed her red lips and licked them with the point of her tongue. Phil felt desire course through his body in a hot wave as though he were sitting in a tub of scalding water. He wanted her, but since she was married he couldn't permit himself to think about it.
Molly winked at him, invitingly. "We'll get along swell, won't we, Phil?"
He felt his face grow scarlet. He tried to speak, but his throat was tight and his mouth was dry as a bone. He managed to nod.
"Where's your old man?" Harvey said, looking toward the barn and out at the feed lot.
"He's gone into town to buy a new hammer. He busted the old one trying to drive a nail in a hedge post."
Harvey moved his hand up and down her hip and she squirmed in a wicked, sensual manner. "He gonna be gone long?"
"No, damn it. Not long enough...."
So it really was true, and she was willing to give herself to Harvey any time. Phil was convinced of it now.
He was shocked to see a married woman behave the way Molly was behaving. It wasn't so bad for a single girl to have hot sex with a boy if she really liked him, but it was another thing entirely for a married woman to cheat on her husband. He felt ashamed of Molly and a little disgusted.
"Well," Harvey said, "we'd better load up and get along. It's gonna take some time, showing the kid around the route."
When Harvey climbed down from the truck, Phil opened his door and got out, too.
"My goodness," Molly said, starring at Phil with a hungry look in her eyes. "He's nice and tall, ain't he? Broad shoulders and bulging muscles. This milk route will make them bulge even more. Look at Harvey there. He's built like a wrestler. And do I like it when he takes me in his arms."
Harvey grinned. "You ain't so bad yourself, Molly. I sure am gonna miss you."
"Well, Phil can take your place. He sure has got pretty black wavy hair. And look at him blush. You shouldn't blush like that, Phil, when a woman makes over you...."
Phil looked away from her, feeling his face grow hot. He opened the van doors and picked up one of the cans, which was nearly full. It must have weighed a hundred pounds.
"Here, fella...." Harvey took the can and lifted it into the truck with one quick movement. "That's the way you life them cans. There's a trick to it. Now you try...."
Phil was amazed at how easily he lifted the other can by swinging it up the way Harvey had shown him. "Now throw down two empties," Harvey told him.
"We'll be on our way."
He pulled two empty cans out by the side handles and set them down in front of the shed.
When he climbed into the truck he noticed that Molly had been watching him. He felt embarrassed at the way her dark eyes were staring, at the sensuous way her lips were smiling.
The sight of her standing the road in her tight-fitting green cotton dress excited him as he never had been excited before. It would be wonderful to lie in bed with her and press his naked body to hers, but when he remembered that she had a husband, he had to force the blood-heating thought from his mind.
The fact that she was married made lust for her impossible. He couldn't allow himself to have sex with a married woman. What would his Uncle Walter and his Aunt Sarah think if they knew he had been tempted to sin with another man's wife? They had taught him right from wrong. He couldn't go against their teachings.
Molly stood in the yard, waving at Harvey and Phil pulled out of the drive and headed down the gravel road. Harvey slapped Phil's knee and broke into a laugh.
"Do you believe me now, buddy? It's just like I told you, ain't it? And I think Molly is gonna give you a tumble. How's that for a start?"
Phil nodded, though he wasn't quite sure why he was nodding.
"But that ain't the only one in my harem," Harvey said, with a chuckle. "There's two other women on the route that's ready any time I snap my fingers ... and a couple more prospects that I really hate to be leaving, untried.
Though he felt a little guilty, Phil had to smile at the expectation of meeting the other girls Harvey had mentioned.
CHAPTER TWO
At the next three stops they climbed out and picked up the load of milk cans, Phil silently intent, Harvey whistling loudly. They saw only one person, an old woman in a bonnet, hoeing fresh black earth in her garden.
At the fourth farm house, which stood back from the road in a cluster of cottonwood trees, Harvey thumped his fist on the horn as he wheeled into the drive.
"Get set, buddy," he said to Phil, with a knowing wink. "Here comes number two...."
When the truck was stopped, Phil climbed down from the cab and stood anxiously watching the house. But he was disappointed because there didn't seem to be anybody home. At least no one came out the door to greet them.
A friendly dog came up wagging its tail and sniffing at Phil's pants legs. He opened the van doors and was getting ready to lift a milk can when he heard a girl's voice call out gaily...."Hello, Harvey."
Phil whirled around and saw a girl his own age in a starched yellow dress coming from the direction of the hen house, with a bucket of eggs in her hand.
She walked quickly up to them, full of bounce. Her firm round breasts jiggled beneath the dress like two molds of jelly with each step she took.
Phil looked her over good, and he felt heat stir in his blood and flow through his body. She had reddish sandy hair and a pretty face with a broad, friendly smile. The end of her cute, turned-up nose was dotted with small brown freckles.
She was short, with a solid, muscle-tight little body, a flat stomach, nicely curving hips and high pointed breasts that stood up solidly beneath the thin cotton dress. It was easy to see that she didn't wear a brassiere because the nipples showed plainly through the cloth.
"Hello there, Cordelia-honey," Harvey said, taking her by the hand. "Where's you pa?"
"Up at the house," she said, with a friendly laugh. "He's finished the chores, so he's feeding his face."
Harvey pulled her close to the truck where they wouldn't be visible from the house and ran his hand down her back and across her hip, his fingers squeezing. She giggled and pressed against his searching hand as he dipped it between her legs.
Phil blushed, but he couldn't make himself turn away. She was very pretty and he was interested in her, especially since she wasn't married.
"Cordelia," Harvey said, leading her by the hand, "this is your new route man. Call him Phil. I'm moving away to California, so he'll be taking over."
"Oh, you're leaving?" she said, sadly.
"Afraid so...."
"I hate to see you leave, Harvey," she said sweetly, giving his arm a squeeze.
"Well, the kid here will be around," Harvey said. "If you ever need anything...."
"I'll be needing a lot, the way my folks keep me on the place. Even the old cat gets out of the house when she's in heat. But I never get to leave the place. My daddy won't even take me to town, except on Saturday night. And then, if any boys start to flirt with me, he watches me like a hawk."
"Well," Harvey said, with a teasing wink. "You take good care of the boy here...."
"Oh, I will," she said, smiling broadly. "Phil and I are going to be great friends. Aren't we, Phil?"
He swallowed uncomfortably and gave an awkward nod.
"Yes ... I hope so."
"And just to prove it...."
Cordelia walked up to him, and before he knew what was happening, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. Her tongue darted out, forcing his lips open, and explored inside his mouth. At the same time, she pushed her stomach against his leg and twisted from side to side.
"A kiss and a promise...." she said, with a laugh. Maybe that will hold you until I find a chance to get you alone. I'll be looking for you tomorrow, Phil."
"All right," he mumbled.
He hurried around to the other side of the truck so she wouldn't see the bulge in his pants. But she followed him around and stood watching with a teasing smile while he loaded the cans onto the truck.
When they had climbed back into the cab, she picked up her bucket of eggs and walked slowly toward the house, smiling back over her shoulder at Phil, swinging her hips deliberately and twitching her lovely round buttocks beneath the tight dress.
Phil was so excited that he couldn't keep his hands from trembling. While Harvey drove out of the yard, Phil kept looking back at Cordelia until she disappeared from view.
Then he lit a cigarette and sat back, trying to calm his nerves. It was useless. He was so heated up with desire for that saucy wench that nothing would calm him, nothing but having her alone and on her back, with her dress pushed up around her neck and her panties flung to one side.
Best of all was knowing that that was just what she would love to have happen. The bold, seducing kiss she had given him, every word she had said, had made her hot need pretty clear.
The sun was higher in the sky and the morning dew had dried from the road. Now dust began to rise in swirling clouds beneath the rolling truck wheels.
They had stopped at a dozen more farm houses and Phil almost had forgotten that he was to meet another of Harvey's girl friends when he was reminded by a finger prodding his ribs.
"Number three coming up, buddy. Get set and hold onto your hat. This one is just about the best gal of all."
"Who is she?" Phil asked.
Harvey winked. "A nice young widow woman who just can't do without a man."
"What's her name?" Phil asked, sitting up with interest and peering ahead at the small white frame farm house with a freshly-painted green roof that they were approaching.
"Dorothy."
"Dorothy...." Phil mused.
"The last name ain't important. She's been farming the place by herself ever since her husand died-some say it was from a case of complete exhaustion."
"Honestly?"
Harvey laughed and snorted.
"Wait until you see her and you'll know what I mean."
Phil noticed that Harvey didn't blow the horn when they turned into the drive. The truck circled the barn and pulled up beside a loading dock in front of a long stone cowshed.
A woman was standing just inside the shed door. When the truck stopped, she moved toward them in a slow, sensuous stride.
"That's Dorothy," Harvey said with a low whistle. "Ain't she something?"
Phil caught his breath as he looked at her. She was a. dark, lean, but curvaceous woman in her early twenties wearing a pair of blue jeans and a red lumberjack shirt that was filled to bursting in front. Her arms were long and delicate, her legs, molded tightly in the jeans, were lovely with the curving grace of a cat.
Her hair was dark and long about her shoulders, partly covering her face, which was radiant with a pale silent beauty.
Her hips were tilted up slightly in a seeming perpetual state of female readiness. There was a smoldering promise in the dark depths of her eyes.
"Dorothy-" Harvey called as he stepped down from the truck. "This is your new route man-Phil."
She nodded at Phil, but her lips remained silently pressed together. Her eyes glittered as she looked at him, fixedly.
Phil got out and stumbled over a cat that wound itself around his feet. Falling forward, he caught himself against the loading dock.
While he lifted the milk can into the truck he noticed her dark eyes staring at him, curiously. Her gaze was so intent, it embarrassed him, and he was relieved when they climbed into the truck and pulled out of the drive.
"Doesn't she ever talk?" he asked Harvey. "She can't talk...."
"Can't talk?" Phil said. "She's deaf and dumb."
"But ... she heard what you said."
"Read my lips...."
"Oh," Phil said. "I see...."
"She gets along pretty good. If she ever wants something, she'll let you know. You'll understand her, too." He winked slyly. "Know what I mean?"
"I guess so," Phil said.
Phil opened the map and made a mental note of the farms marked with x's where Dorothy and Cordelia lived.
"You think you'll be able to remember all the stops we've made today?" Harvey said. "I think so."
"That map helps a lot."
"Yes, it does...."
"I reckon you'll have to remember," Harvey said. "Because tomorrow you'll be on your own." Phil nodded.
"I don't think I'll have any trouble," he said.
He felt certain he would remember, although at the moment he just couldn't get worried about the problem. All he could think of was the three women he had met-Molly and Cordelia and Dorothy.
Each of them was pretty in a different way, and each was a passionate woman, starved for love. He had no doubt of that.
It almost frightened him to think that he would be seeing them every day, that they would be expecting him to do lustful things with them-if what Harvey had told him was true. And judging by the way they had acted, it must be true.
"Three more stops and we'll be finished," Harvey said, pulling into a driveway that was rutted and rain-washed.
In the yard a black and white puppy wagged his tail, yapped once, and ran toward the truck, barking, almost tripping under the wheels with his clumsiness.
"Pepper!"
A girl came running across the yard from the porch, picked up the puppy and held him protectively against her face, stroking his fur.
When Phil saw her he caught his breath, and his heart skipped a beat. She was beautiful, with light blue eyes, fresh-looking pale skin, and golden hair.
"You bad doggie," she said, scolding the puppy.
Then she smiled at Phil. It was a warm smile, very friendly, though there was a hint of sadness in her blue eyes.
"Hello."
"Hello," he breathed. "I'm Laura Brewer."
"I'm Phil Arden," he mumbled almost unaudibly.
"Are you the new route man?"
He nodded, unable to take his eyes off her.
"I'm leaving for California, Mrs. Brewer," Harvey called. "Phil is going to take my place."
Mrs. Brewer? Phil's heart sank when he realized that she was married. She seemed so young, probably still in her teens. Phil sighed as he opened the door.
"You'll watch out for Pepper when you drive in with the truck, won't you, Phil?"
Her eyes were soft and imploring.
"Sure...." he said, eagerly.
"Pepper's so young and full of spunk. He just doesn't know the meaning of fear."
"I'll watch for him," Phil assured her, warmly. "I'll be careful every day when I drive in."
"Thanks, Phil," she said, sweetly. "I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to Pepper. He's just about all I have in the world right now."
"Oh," Phil said, softly. "Don't you have any parents?"
"My mother and two younger brothers live up the road, but I don't get to see them very often."
"Oh," Phil said, puzzled. It seemed strange that she didn't see them whenever she wanted, if they lived up the road.
"My husband...." she said, with a shrug.
It was not much of an explanation, but he realized that it was something painful that she didn't want to talk about.
"Do you live in town?" she asked.
He nodded. "With my aunt and uncle. My parents were killed in a car wreck."
"I'm sorry," she said, tenderly.
He blushed and clumsily picked up the heavy milk can which he set on the truck. She kept watching him and he felt hot blood come into his cheeks.
As he climbed back into the cab she still stood, petting the puppy and regarding him with her pale blue eyes. Her hair, the color of ripe corn, was tied behind her head with a blue ribbon.
"Will you be back tomorrow, Phil?"
"Yes," he said, not looking at her.
"It's so lonesome out here," she sighed. "You'll have to forgive me, because I'll probably talk your head off."
The sweet smile that curved her lovely pink lips filled him with painful shyness.
"I don't mind...." he said, quickly.
But the words were lost in the roar of the truck motor as Harvey swung around and headed toward the road.
Laura smiled after him and lifted her hand to wave. He waved back. He sighed to see her standing there, so delicate and lovely, her yellow hair lifting in the breeze.
"Now there's a real cute little number," Harvey said, suggestively. "Too bad I never did get a change to do more than make her acquaintance."
For an instant Phil was angry at the implied insult in Harvey's words, but he held his tongue. Laura was too nice a girl for anyone to talk that way about.
"Funny thing," Harvey said. "She's married to a man more than twice her age. Luke Brewer. Just about the meanest man I ever saw. I can't figure it out...."
"Why would she ever marry a man like that?" Phil said, curiously.
"Beats me."
"She looked sad. I'm sure she isn't happy with him."
"Well, sonny, maybe you can be the one to cheer her up."
"Don't say that."
Phil knotted his fist and scowled at Harvey. But at the same time, he couldn't fight off a gnawing desire to take her in his arms and comfort her.
CHAPTER THREE
Phil had set the alarm clock to ring at four in the morning, but by three he already was wide awake and tossing restlessly, unable to go back to sleep. All night he had been disturbed by an exciting turmoil of dreams and of visions of women doing erotic things with him.
An of the women he had met the day before appeared to him in his dreams: Dorothy, the dark silent beauty; Cordelia, the spunky little readhead; Molly, ripe and shameless. Even Laura. But he felt a deep shame when he thought of Laura in connection with the others, because these seemed to be something special about her, something as angelic as her lovely face and her golden hair. A feeling beyond the mere sting of carnal excitement.
Of them all he wanted her most, though in a different way. But of course that was impossible because she was married, as Molly was also. That left only Cordelia and Dorothy.
He was not certain he would be able to make love to any of them. The idea was too exciting, and at the same time, too frightening to think about. He was certain he would shy away, back out at the last minute, though he wanted a woman desperately. He was nineteen, and his young body needed a woman, craved for one.
But to think this way was wrong, even dangerous. It could lead to trouble and it might even cost him his job. Above all, he must keep his job. It was his duty to support himself and to pay his aunt and uncle for his keep, after all they had done for him. They had been kind and unselfish to take him into their home after that terrible crash that had changed the whole course of his life....
They were coming home from town that night to the small farm his father was working on shares. He was asleep in the back seat when his mother's sudden screams woke him up. Then there was the sickening crash that almost knocked him senseless. He felt as though he were being hurled through space.
He never could forget the awful scene as he crawled out of a window from the tangled wreckage. They had struck another car head-on. There was blood and broken glass everywhere. His mother and father were lying on the ground in the brightness of headlights from cars that had stopped. They were limp, lifeless.
He tried to run to them, but somebody's firm grip held him back while he sobbed and shook with fear. Then the sirens rolled down the hill, the flashing red light of the ambulance. He would never forget the terror of that night.
That crash had destroyed his family and had left a void that his aunt and uncle never had been able to fill, despite all their goodness. It was a void that could only be filled some day when he had a family of his own.
He was a grown man now, and that was what he had to plan for. But before a man could think seriously of marriage, he had to be able to support himself and a family. With the milk route job, he had what he needed at last. Steady work at good pay. He knew that he had to keep his mind constantly on the job and forget all these dangerous thoughts about women.
Hearing his aunt stirring in the kitchen, he looked again at the clock and saw that it was almost four. The first light of dawn was visible through the window; the birds were beginning to flutter in the big oak tree outside.
Quickly he climbed out of bed, snapped off the alarm button and pulled on his work clothes. By the time he had washed his hands and his face, his Aunt Sarah had his breakfast all set out on the kitchen table.
He gave her a hug as he sat down to the plate of ham and eggs and hot biscuits.
"It's so early for you to be getting up, Aunt Sarah. I can fix my own breakfast after this."
"You're a man now, Phil," she said with a smile, looking at him through her steel-rimmed glasses. "And when a man is making a living, he shouldn't have to cook his own breakfast.", "But you could sleep until seven o'clock. And you need the rest."
"Now, Phil-hush up and eat your breakfast or you'll be late."
She took another hot biscuit from the oven and laid it on his plate. Then she sat down across the table to watch him happily as he ate. She was just as proud as he was about the job, and if she wanted to show it by getting up early to fix his breakfast, he decided that he shouldn't argue with her about it.
After he had drunk a second cup of coffee, he walked the four blocks to town and climbed into the truck which stood ready for him in front of the creamery station.
The sky was brighter as he headed out of town. Still, he needed to drive with his headlights burning. To start on the route he drove to the far end of it and worked toward town. It was a thirty-minute drive, and the sun was just above the horizon as he pulled into the first farmyard.
Then he remembered that this was where Molly lived. In his excitement over making the whole run by himself he had almost forgotten.
He drove past the green barn and parked in front of the shed without seeing any sign of Molly, which was a relief to him because he wanted to avoid her if he could. He knew the first few days would be difficult, but they would leave him alone as soon as they learned that he wouldn't be as willing as Harvey to act as a stud. That was the way it had to be if he wanted to keep his job without getting into trouble.
But before he had even gotten the first heavy milk can onto the truck, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps behind him. It was Molly hurrying across the drive toward him, her heavy breasts swaying beneath her tight-fitting dress and her shapely thighs moving with a kind of twist that sent thrills of hot excitement surging through his body.
"Hi, Phil," she said, sweetly.
"Hello."
He felt himself blushing, and a catch came in his throat. He was certain that he wouldn't be able to utter another word.
"I been watching for you to come," Molly said. "My old man has already left."
"Where is he?" Phil said, without meaning to ask.
"He's plowing in the north forty." Molly gave him a wicked wink. "He'll be there all morning...."
Phil turned away and tugged at one of the milk cans, but he stole a glance at her from the corner of his eye. She was staring boldly at him, with a promiscuous smile.
He looked at her body, which was sharply outlined beneath the blue cotton dress that was drawn tight at the waist. The fullness of her breasts made him tremble with excitement. She was standing there wanting him, ready for him. She had practically given an open invitation. Why else would she have told him that her husband would be gone all morning?
And he wanted her too-there was no use trying to deny it, even though he knew it was wrong. It would take a lot of will power to turn her down.
He loaded the last can onto the truck and jumped inside the van to shove the cans into the corner. Then he set off three empty cans and fastened the door.
When he turned to get into the cab, she was beside him, standing in the way. Her eyes were dark with a smoldering fire, and the breath sucked between her teeth. He noticed a glitter of sweat upon her brow.
Before he could prevent it, her arms had encircled his neck and she was smearing his mouth with her lips, kissing him in a wild hypnotic way in which he never had been kissed before. He never had known a kiss could be so devastating. Her tongue was doing improper things to him, darting into his mouth. He could feel it all through his body, clear down to his toes.
When she stopped the kiss, she left him gasping. But she was still pressing her soft belly against his leg, rubbing and twisting as though she had gone mad.
"Come on, Phil," she muttered, hoarsely. "We'll go to the house."
The thought of it startled him, left him quaking with fright. He never could agree to such a thing. What if her husband should come home and trap him in the bedroom? In such a situation, there could be no escape. Her husband surely would beat him; he even might shoot him. He would have every right to do violence, as far as Phil was concerned.
He tried to break away from her, but she was strong and determined. Her thighs continued to work rhythmically against his leg. She pulled down on his neck, hanging heavily with her arms, and tried again to kiss him.
"Don't," he said, turning his head away.
"Come on, Phil," she sighed. "Take me to bed. I've got to have you. It's been so long since I've had a man like you. You can do anything you want with me."
"I have to go-"he protested.
"Please, honey. I've got to have it. My old man can't do me any good. All he thinks about it doing the chores. I get so hungry for a little excitement out here, I think I could scream...."
"You'll have to find someone else," Phil said. "I've got to get along on the route."
She grabbed his arm in a vise-like grip with both her hands and tried to drag him toward the shed. She was a powerful woman, and she got him almost to the door before he managed to set his feet and stop her. She still held on and tried to pull him. It became a tug of war.
"Come into the shed, Phil ... if you're afraid to go to the house. We'll make a pallet on the floor out of feed sacks. There's a pile of feed sacks in the shed."
"Turn me loose," he said, desperately.
He wrenched his arm free and ran away from her, darting around the truck. He jumped into the cab and locked the door. She shook the handle.
"Please, honey. Don't leave me now-not in this kind of condition. You've got me in heat, and you've got to do something about it. If you don't, I'll lose my mind."
He started the motor and slipped into low gear, rolling slowly up the road. She still held onto the door handle and ran beside the truck. Her brown hair was flying about her face and her mouth was twisted as though she were in pain.
"Don't run off...." Her voice grew angry. "What kind of a man are you? You ought to be ashamed of yourself."
The truck was rolling faster. Finally she was forced to turn loose of the handle or be dragged under the wheels. She still ran for a way beside the cab.
"You ain't a man...." she taunted him, shaking her fist.
He turned onto the road and left her standing there, alone and bedraggled. He was glad to be away from her, but he knew that he would have to face her again tomorrow, and every day. She was going to keep up the attack until she won. That was what worried him. He knew that he could fight her off only so long, then he was bound to give in.
He was bothered by what she had shouted at him-that he wasn't a man. It wasn't true, but her contempt almost made him feel that way. The truth was, that he needed a woman as badly as she needed a man, not only because his body demanded it, but to prove himself as well. Her words had stung him. He had to have a woman, but not one who was married. That was unthinkable.
Mechanically, he made the next few stops, loading milk and unloading empty cans, not really thinking of what he was doing. The image of Molly still was whirling around in his head. The memory of her hot kisses and probing tongue left him weak. He could not help but think of her and the way she had shoved her belly up against him. She actually had been out of her head with her craving for a man.
Phil could see how a lonely life in the country could do that to any woman. He couldn't blame her completely if it was true that her husband was unable to satisfy her.
She had made him so sexually excited that his head still was swimming. She had worked him up almost to the point where he would have to lie with a woman or go batty.
He caught himself thinking of Cordelia as he pulled off the road and drove through the cottonwood trees to her house. He had to clench his teeth to drive the sexy thoughts from his mind. Yet he looked around eagerly for her when he pulled up to where the milk cans were standing.
She was nowhere in sight. He hurried around in back of the truck and loaded the heavy cans. He was climbing into the cab when she came running across the yard from the house, waving her arms at him.
He waited, watching the bounce of her large, unbound breasts that swung freely beneath her thin dress. She climbed in the door and sat down beside him.
"Hello, Phil."
"Hello, Cordelia."
"I nearly missed you. I've been watching all morning, and I just left the window to put away the ironing board when you drove up. That was awful close. Why don't you honk after this?"
"I don't know...."
He was blushing. Heat began to rise again in his body like a head of steam that had to find an outlet before he exploded. She began to play with his knee.
"I think you're awful nice, Phil."
"You are too," he said, lowering his eyes.
"I kinda go for you ... in a big way. You think you could go for me? I'll do anything you want...."
She slid up against him and, in one quick motion, slipped her arms around his neck and began kissing him passionately. A lock of her reddish hair tickled his face.
Then she was kissing him the same way Molly had, with a maddening nutter of her tongue. He was shocked. She was too young to know such things. Yet, she seemed as sure of herself as Molly, as wise in the ways of making a man crazy with desire. Her hand began to explore.
His body was trembling, and with her mouth glued to his, he gasped for breath. She took his hand and slipped it beneath her dress, laying it between her soft warm thighs. She was too much to resist, and he let his fingers move about and wander up her leg.
Then he saw a man in overalls coming across the yard toward them and his fingers froze.
"Don't stop," she murmured.
"Someone's coming ... your father."
She turned around, and when she saw the man, she slid away from him and sat in the corner.
"Damn it. He's always watching me. I can't never get out of his sight."
The closer her father came to the truck, the bigger he looked. He was a huge, broad-shouldered man with great red hands that looked as though they could break a man in two. His brow was knotted in an angry scowl.
"I'll catch it now," Cordelia whispered, under her breath.
Her father swung open the door and pulled her out, lifting her down, with one hand clamped around her arm.
"Come out of that truck, you little flip," he roared. "Ain't you got any shame? Now git on up to the house. I'm gonna teach you some decency if I got to do it with a horsewhip."
Phil watched her run toward the house, feeling sorry for her. She probably was so wild for the very reason that her father never gave her any freedom.
"Now, I'll tell you something, sonny," the man said, looking through the window at Phil. "If you've got any smart, you'll keep away from my daughter. I don't allow her to flirt with boys, and I won't have no boys chasing after her."
"Yes, sir...." Phil mumbled.
"Now you git on out of here, and tomorrow just stop long enough to pick up the milk."
Phil spun the truck wheels, pulling out of the drive. He was glad to get away, and he already had made up his mind he never would have any more to do with Cordelia. He was willing to talk with her, but she would have to find somebody else to make love to her.
He had been so stirred up by Molly and Cordelia that he found it necessary to think about other things besides women. By the time he reached Dorothy's house, his nerves were much calmer.
But then he saw her walking out to the cowshed to meet him, and he remembered her staring dark eyes and her silent lips and the way her breasts filled out the front of her lumberjack shirt. The temperature of his blood began to rise.
She still was wearing the blue jeans and the red shirt. He sat in the truck beside the shed watching the grace of her walk, the tight curves of her legs within the molding cloth of her blue jeans. Then he climbed out.
Her long black hair was lifting with the breeze. She walked directly up to him and stopped, with her hip touching his. Her pale lips opened in a faint smile as she stood, silently gazing up at him.
With a natural motion, as though she had done it every day, she drew his head down and placed a firm kiss on his lips. Her eyes widened cat-like, then closed behind long delicate lashes. She inhaled deeply and her breasts rose and fell with a soft rolling movement against his chest.
He finally had run out of power to resist. Besides, she had no husband or father watching over her. There could be no dangerous complications. He made up his mind to let her have her way, to do whatever she wanted to him.
She squirmed in his arms, at the same time nibbling his lips. With a tender look in her eyes, she made a motion with her head, trying to tell him something.
He shrugged and smiled, unable to understand. She poked a finger at his chest, pointed it at herself, and sighing deeply, she made a sensuous grimace. He understood. There was no way to mistake her intention. He felt that he should say something to her, but he didn't know what to say.
"Dorothy...." he whispered.
Her face broke into a smile, and taking his hand, she led him across the yard to the house. He went willingly, glancing down at the graceful movements of her body as she walked. She leaned against him and slipped her arm around his waist.
They went together up the steps, their hips knocking together, awkwardly. They got stuck in the doorway and he laughed. She gave him a happy smile.
It was a small house, but it was neatly furnished. The bedroom was small too, but there was a dressing table and a large fourposter bed. The sheets had been neatly turned down, as though she were waiting for him. She was sure of herself and of her ability to snare him with the promise of her body.
He had surrendered, completely. It was impossible to go on without a woman, and all at once he could see nothing wrong with it. She needed him, and he needed her. It was all so natural, and it had been going on for thousands of years.
She was unbuttoning her shirt with her long delicate fingers, a seriously intent expression on her face. She slipped off the shirt and she ran her cool hands across his chest. She laid her face in the hollow of his neck and kissed. Her tongue darted like a little stab of flame.
Her eyes were smoldering when she looked up at him again. With a slow movement, she placed his hands at her shirt front and indicated that he was to unbutton it for her.
His fingers trembled, but he managed to free the buttons. When he pulled open the shirt, he found that she wore nothing underneath. Her lovely breasts sprang into view like blossoms bursting into sunlight.
She walked away from him, turned at the bed, and lifted her arms to pose for him. She was bare from the waist up. The sight of her creamy skin draped with long black hair was enough to make him gasp.
She reached out a hand and drew him to her. Then they were kissing, weaving their bodies together. Their hands moved up and down, stroked and squeezed.
She snapped a button at the side of her jeans and peeled them off. When she stepped out of them, she gave them a kick, and she was standing before him naked.
He stared at her and licked his lips, which were feverish. Her body was tilted, her hips were cocked in a tension of readiness like the hammer of a gun ready to fire, a fierce promise of violence and passion.
He was so inexperienced, yet he was so primed now that he went to her with knowledge and decision. Taking her in his arms, he laid her gently upon the bed. In a moment he was lying beside her, with his clothes off.
She guided his hand in an intimate exploration of the curves and hollow of her body. Her eyes were burning, her mouth voluptuously open, crying out a silent scream.
Then with firm hands, she drew him upon her body and held him in a smothering embrace. He found himself moving above her with sure, hard strokes, raising his excitement to fever pitch. He was afraid that he might hurt her with such violence, but he was too much afire to slow down, to be more gentle.
Yet she seemed to demand a brute fury from him. She was urging him on with her eyes, with the open gash of her mouth, with the fierce pounding of her fists on his back.
She was like an animal struggling to break free from a trap, yet when he pulled away from her for an instant she snatched him down upon her writhing body with a furious embrace. Her fingers clawed at his arms and her teeth bit, painfully.
They were straining together, their bodies slick with sweat. The bedsprings creaked rhythmically beneath them. His mind began to reel, a great sheet of flame shot at him, a cloud of fire engulfed him, both of them, swallowed them up. He felt her go tense beneath him and then collapse. He soared with her and fell spent, his body heavy as lead.
CHAPTER FOUR
Phil sat on the, edge of the bed, trying to summon enough strength to tie his shoe. It had taken him a full ten minutes to dress. He was weak with the release she had triggered. He was drained, empty.
How would he ever lift another can full of milk? Yet, he had to hurry along on his route. It was getting late. There was milk in the truck that had to be taken to the creamery. If he were too late, it would cost him his job.
As he stood up to leave, Dorothy jumped from the bed and flung her arms around his neck, pressed her naked body against him. A panting sound came from her throat. She was pleading with him with her eyes, begging for more. She bent his head and gave him a passionate kiss.
He was intoxicated by the marvel of her body. Never had he realized that a woman could be so exciting. Her fingers stroked his hair, his neck, his back, sending an electric shock down his spine.
Her mouth was glued to his, and she had no intention of turning him loose. His limbs began to quiver again with excitement. He was almost tempted to stay. What a wild thing it would be to abandon himself in an all-day orgy with her. The thought of it was staggering.
But he had to go while he still had will to resist, before he became hopelessly lost and gave up his job, everything, to surrender to the carnal luxury of her passion.
He grasped her wrists and pulled her off his neck.
"I have to go," he said, thickly.
Her eyes watched his lips. She frowned and shook her head wildly. She was at him again, clinging to him, winding her arms about his neck, her legs about his legs.
He tried to walk, but she stuck to him and he dragged her across the floor. He stopped to untangle her from him again. It was like coming unstuck from flypaper. Holding her arms, he pushed her back gently onto the bed and hurried out the door.
She was after him in an instant. She followed him onto the porch and across the yard, pulling at his arm.
"Stop it!" he shouted.
She was beginning to irritate him. He had to get to work; he couldn't devote a whole day to her.
She stood shamelessly before him, naked in the sunlight, and she began to cry. He felt sorry for her, but there was nothing he could do. If she needed a man so badly, she could go to town and find one.
He climbed into the truck and drove off, and when he turned onto the road, he saw her still standing there. She lifted a hand to wave and he waved back to her.
He sighed and took a deep breath of morning air. Then he smiled, flexing the muscles of his arms and shoulders. For the first time in his life he felt like a man. He knew that at last he was a man, no longer a boy.
He was proud that he had affected her so violently, given her such pleasure. Was it so wrong, after all? Yet, as he approached the Brewer farm, he remembered Laura and her pale, inquisitive eyes. His face warmed with a touch of shame. What would she think of him, if she knew?
He was surprised to see her waiting for him beside the milk cans as he pulled into the yard. She waved and ran up to the side of the truck, her golden hair swinging across her neck.
"Hello, Phil," she said, sweetly.
"Hello, Laura."
"You remembered, didn't you?" she said. "About Pepper, I mean. You drove in slowly, like I asked you to."
He had driven in slowly, he had done it unconsciously, though now he remembered that she had asked him to be careful and not run over her puppy.
"Where is Pepper?" he asked, getting out of the truck.
"Over there under the apple tree." She pointed toward the yard. "It was such a pretty morning, I brought out a table and chairs, and I spread a little picnic. Won't you come and join me? It's only cookies and milk, but I thought you'd like some."
"Yes," he murmured. "I would ... as soon as I get these cans loaded onto the truck."
She smiled at him, and he felt his stomach go soft. The pale beauty of her eyes and the softness of her mouth was enough to raise a lump in his throat.
He threw the cans up quickly and set off two empties, then he walked with her over to the apple tree where a table covered with a clean white cloth was spread with cookies and two glasses of milk.
"Sit there, Phil," she said, happily. "I wasn't sure what kind of cookies you'd like, so I baked two kinds-chocolate and oatmeal."
He was surprised.
"You baked them especially for me?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, smiling. "It's not very often that I have company on this lonely old farm. Luke isn't very friendly. He runs people off...."
Her eyes went sad all at once, and a dead, hopeless look came into them.
"Where is your husband?" Phil asked.
"He went to town to buy feed."
Phil took a bite of chocolate cookie and studied Laura, who was sipping milk, her eyes downcast.
She looked up at him and blushed.
"Why would you marry a man so old?" he asked.
She sighed and looked down at her hands. Her skin grew pale and her body seemed suddenly deflated, drained of vitality.
"It's a long story, and I really don't want to talk about it now. Just for this moment I'm happier than I've been in a long time, and I hate to spoil it."
"I just can't understand," Phil said.
"Some day I'll tell you. If we get to be friends-" She reached across the table and touched his hand. "And I hope we do-"
"We will, Laura."
"Oh, Phil-" She heaved a sigh. "You don't know how lonely I get just to hear a kind word."
"Is your husband really mean to you?"
"You don't know how cruel he is. You wouldn't believe if I told you."
"Why don't you leave him?"
"I can't-" She shook her head. "It's impossible. If I told you, then you'd understand."
Phil looked out at the road.
"When will your husband be home?" he asked.
She caught her breath and jumped up from the table as though she had been startled out of a dream.
"For a moment I'd forgotten him. He'll be back any time now, and we shouldn't be sitting here together."
Before Phil could get to his feet, there was a rattle of metal on the road. A pickup truck appeared in the clearing beyond a hedgerow and turned into the yard. Phil hurried out to the milk van, and Laura went to meet her husband.
When the man climbed from the truck, Phil could see that he was tall and stoop-shouldered, with graying hair and with a stubble of beard on his angry, sunburned face.
"What was you two doing when I drove up?" he roared.
"Nothing, Luke," Laura said, fearfully. "I seen you sittin' together."
"I just invited him for cookies and milk. There wasn't any harm in that."
"Givin' away food. Don't you know it costs money? And talkin' to a stranger....You git inside, I'll see to you later."
"She wasn't to blame," Phil said. "If anything was done wrong, I did it. I sat down without an invitation."
Luke turned to him and glared with small dark eyes.
"Git along, sonny, before I run you off with a fence post. You stay away from my wife. I don't want you talkin' to her-ever. I'd kill a man for less."
Phil clenched his teeth. It made him angry to see Laura mistreated by such a brute. He didn't want to leave for fear Luke would hurt her. But there was little he could do to help her, since she was married to the man.
He climbed into the truck, backed around, and pulled onto the road. The last thing he saw as he looked back was Luke pushing Laura toward the house. She seemed so small beside him, like a frightened kitten. Even though he knew it was none of his business, Phil was tempted to turn back.
CHAPTER FIVE
Laura Brewer watched Phil drive away in the big truck, dreading what Luke would do to her when he had her alone. Luke shoved her toward the house, and when he got her inside, he slammed the door.
He glared at her, his small black eyes burning with fury. He wiped his hand across his unshaven chin and spat.
"Look at them dishes-ain't even washed yet. And you out there feisting with a man like a common bitch dog."
"I didn't mean any harm, Luke," she said, sadly. "I was just lonely to talk with someone."
"I'll learn you not to talk with strangers-and a man at that...."
He swung his arm and swatted her on the side of the head with his big hand. She fell against the table and dropped to the floor. For a moment she was too dizzy to regain her balance.
"Stand up. You ain't hurt." Luke was drawing heavy breaths, in his anger. "That's just a sample of what you get if I ever catch you talkin' with that route man again."
Laura began to cry. Standing up, she rubbed her swollen face and stared with hatred at Luke.
"Well-what are you gawkin' at? I told you to get to work. I ain't supportin' a lazy sow for a wife."
He took a step toward her, raising his fist, threateningly. She hurried to the sink and began stacking the dishes. Luke watched her for a minute and finally went out the door.
Through the window, she watched him walk out to the barn in his peculiar, stoop-shouldered gait. She was thankful that he hadn't beaten her worse. Sometimes he wouldn't stop until she was senseless.
She set a large kettle of water on the stove and began scraping the plates. She hated to do the dishes, especially for Luke. When it came right down to it, she hated any kind of work because work was all she had known all her life. It seemed as though she was destined to slave as long as she lived....
When her father died, her mother was left alone with three children and with no way to provide for them. She was sixteen at the time. Harry and Jim were five and eight-too young to be much help around the farm.
Their farm was small, even for that hilly part of Nebraska. The forty acres consisted of scrub timber that was practically worthless, and a few fields of poor, rocky soil. About the only way her father had been able to make a living on the farm was by raising chickens.
It was hard work on the farm, for chickens demanded a lot of attention. Most of the work was woman's work, and Laura and her mother had done the biggest share of it. Her father worked in town at odd jobs whenever he could find work to do. Without the extra money that he brought in, they would have come close to starving.
Her father had been ill for years. The doctor had told him he had a bad heart and that he might go any time. Still, it was a great shock to his family when he died.
Her mother seemed to lose all hope, all desire to live, so the management of the farm fell on Laura's shoulders. She had to see that the two boys kept the chickens watered and fed, and the eggs gathered. Laura milked the cows, and twice a week she drove the old truck into town to sell the eggs.
Luke Brewer was the nearest neighbor; he lived a mile down the road. He had been married once, but his wife was said to have run away from him shortly after their wedding and she hadn't been heard from since. Everyone said they couldn't blame her, because of the way Luke had treated her.
One day when Laura was driving back from town she passed Luke Brewer's place and she saw him standing in the middle of the road. He waved for her to stop, so she pulled up the truck and leaned out the window.
"Howdy, Laura," he said, coming over and leaning against the side of the door.
She nodded dully, but she didn't speak. She had never gotten well acquainted with Luke because she had heard of his reputation.
"You don't have to be so snooty, gal," he said. "You ain't scared of me, are you? I ain't such a bad feller, as you might find out...."
"Did you want to tell me something?"
"Yes, ma'am, I've got a right smart bit to tell you," he said, chuckling softly to himself. "Won't you step into my house and join me in a cup of coffee. What I have to say might take a good bit of time."
"No thanks," she replied. "I must be getting home. Anything you have to say, please tell me now."
"Well, let me ask you one question ... right off," he said, looking straight into her eyes. "How'd you like to be my wife?"
"Marry you?" His words were so astounding that they were funny, yet she knew better than to laugh at him.
"Now that wouldn't be so terrible, would it, Laura?" he coaxed.
"I'm sorry, Luke. Your'e too old for me. You're not the kind of man I'd want to marry."
"Well, now, Laura-I might make you a right good husband. A purty gal like you ought to be married. No use lettin' a beauty like you go to waste." He" spat on the ground and shifted the chaw of tobacco in his mouth. "Besides, I've got a right nice farm here. I could afford to give you lots of nice things you've never had before."
"No thank you, Luke," she said, quickly. "I have everything I want."
She turned the key in the switch, but Luke stuck his hand out and leaned heavily against the door.
"Now just a minute, Laura," he said. "I ain't quite through with what I had to tell you."
"Well, hurry up, please," she said, impatiently. "I have to get along home."
"I don't reckon you know that your father mortgaged the farm just about a month before he died?"
"Mortgaged the farm," she said, in surprise. She never had heard her father mention it to her mother or to anyone else.
"I don't reckon he told you. Probably didn't want to worry you about it."
"You must be mistaken," Laura said.
"Oh, no I ain't. I know for a fact because I just bought an option on your place from the bank." He looked her fiercely in the eyes. "And I'm givin' you notice right now-if you ain't able to make the payments on that there mortgage loan, I'll have to take the farm away from you."
"But you can't ... that's all we have. What would we do? How would we manage to live?"
Luke shrugged and grinned at her.
"Business is business," he said, unconcernedly. "I've had my eye on that land for some time now. I could run my hogs in the timber, and the fields would raise some purty good crops, if they was handled right and not the way your old man farmed it."
"My father knew how to farm...." she said, defiantly.
Luke smiled and spat a stream of tobacco juice into the ditch.
"You can see for yourself that he weren't too good ... farmin' all his life and just leavin' his family forty acres, and mortgaged at that."
"He was a good man, Laura said. "He was kind and honest. That's more than I can say for some people...."
"Meanin' me, fer instance?" Luke said with the trace of a smile on his thick lips. "If the shoe fits, wear it."
"You've got spirit, gal. I like that. It's sort of a shame that I'm gonna have to run a fine little filly like you offen her place."
Her face grew warm with anger.
"You can't!" she cried. "You just can't do that to mom and the kids. I'm big enough to take care of myself, but they're not. They'd be helpless. They wouldn't have any place to go-no way to make a living."
"Well, now-" Luke said, scratching his head. "Maybe they wouldn't have to move off en the farm ... if...."
"If what?"
"Well, now, if you was to change your mind about marrying me, I could let your ma and the kids stay on the farm. They'd always have a place to live-so long as you was livin' with me."
She stared at Luke for a moment in amazement, unable to speak. The thought of marrying him was disgusting. He was the filthiest man she had ever seen, and his cruelty was known by everyone in the neighborhood. Once she had seen him beating his horse with a club. To marry him would be impossible. She just couldn't stand the thought of it.
"Well, how about it, gal?" Luke said, with a grin. "When do we set the date?"
"No ... no ... no...." She was screaming at him. "I'll never marry you. Never-"
"Well, now, Laura," he said, leaning close to her and glaring with his dark eyes. "You'd better think twice before you make up your mind so quick."
"Get out of my way-" she said, fiercely, starting the truck.
He laughed as she drove past him.
"Maybe you'll be changing your mind one of these days," he called after her.
She didn't tell her mother about Luke's proposal or about the mortgage on the farm. She didn't want to worry her mother any more because her mother still was broken up over her father's death.
The next time she went to town she stopped at the bank and she found out that her father had taken the mortgage on the farm just as Luke had told her.
Her father had been sicker than anyone really knew, Mr. Yates, the banker told Laura. He had to have money to pay for medicine and his treatments-which still hadn't saved his life. He hadn't wanted them to worry, so he had kept the mortgage a secret, intending to pay it back as soon as he could.
Luke Brewer hadn't lied about the option on their farm, either. He had bought it from the bank, offering Mr. Yates such a good price that Mr. Yates said he couldn't refuse.
The payments on the mortgage were fifty dollars a month, and Mr. Yates said that Luke Brewer could take over the farm any time they failed to make the payments.
Laura left the bank feeling that everything was lost. Sometimes they didn't even collect thirty dollars a month from the eggs, if the hens weren't laying. Luke Brewer would get the farm, and there was no way to stop him unless she married him.
But the thought of marrying him sent cold chills down her back. She just couldn't do it, not even to save her mother and the two boys. Yet, she knew it was her duty to take care of them. Hers was the only strength they had to rely on since her father had died.
The time came to make the first payment, and she hadn't been able to save ten dollars, let alone fifty.
One day Luke came over to the farm looking for her. Her mother sent him out to the barn where she was milking. He came up behind her silently, and he must have been watching her for some time before he spoke. The sound of his voice startled her so that she almost tipped over the bucket of milk.
"You're sure a purty sight there, Laura. You'd make a fella a mighty purty wife. I'll bet you're handy around the farm too-good at the chores."
She turned around and stared at him, unable to speak.
"Ain't you got a good morning and a smile for your future husband?"
She shook her head unhappily. "I just can't do it ... I can't...."
"Now I ain't so bad, am I, gal?"
"You're horrible!" she cried. "I hate you!"
"Well, now, maybe you'll change your mind, Laura ... after we're married."
"I'll never marry you."
A blaze of anger came into Luke's eyes and he advanced toward her, his hands knotted.
"Then you and your ma have got until this evening to get offen my place. I ain't going to waste no more time with you."
"Please, Luke," she cried, "you can't do that to us. We don't have any place to go."
"I told you my terms," he said, looking her up and down with hungry eyes. "You marry me-or git out."
"Isn't there any other way?" she begged. "Won't you give me another month? Maybe I can raise the money by then."
"No-"
He turned and walked toward the barn door.
"Wait, Luke-" she called. Tears were running down her face. "I'll do as you ask."
"Now you're gettin' some sense in your head."
"But there's just one thing I want to ask of you."
"Well," he growled, "what is it?"
"Don't tell my mother why I'm marrying you. She wouldn't allow it. She might do something...."
"Don't worry," Luke said. "I won't tell her nothin'. But remember-I got the deed, and if you ever leave me, I'll take over the farm. Now, I'll go into town and get the license today. We'll be married this Sunday at my place."
After the wedding, Laura's mother was so shocked that she hardly spoke to anyone. She believed Laura had wanted to marry Luke, though she couldn't understand why.
Laura gathered her clothes and moved them over to Luke's house. It didn't take her long to find out that being married to Luke was worse than she had ever imagined.
She was his slave. He made it clear from the start that he didn't consider her a human being. She existed merely to satisfy his lust and to be his housekeeper. He forced her to sleep in the same bed with him, yet he was filthy. He seldom took a bath, and the dirt he got on himself from the fields soon had the bedsheets black.
At times she had planned to run away-to disappear completely so that he never could find her, just as his first wife had done. But she wasn't so fortunate as Luke's first wife must have been because she had to think of her family.
She didn't get to see them often, because Luke had forbidden her to leave the farm. And he wouldn't let her family come to visit. They might steal something, he said. Twice he had run the boys off by throwing rocks at them. It was safer for them not to come near the place.
So she was forced to live in loneliness with nobody to talk with. And now Phil had come along, the first friendly and considerate man she had seen since the day she married Luke. She knew already that it was dangerous for her to see too much of Phil, because she hated Luke so much that she had come to think of the marriage vows as unimportant. In fact, the greatest revenge she could imagine would be to cheat on him....
CHAPTER SIX
For a long time after the truck had driven off down the road, Dorothy stood in the yard watching the faint haze of dust slowly disappear. She stood with the sun beating down upon her bare flesh, heedless of the fact that she was stark naked. So what if someone drove By and saw her standing there? She would welcome the pleasure of knowing that her body could rouse a man to sex hunger.
Perhaps he would be young and attractive, like the man who just had made love to her. If he dared, he might even turn around and come back to her. She was giving an open invitation by standing there, nude.
She wondered how she must look to someone, passing by on the road. A full-bodied woman in her prime with her white skin gleaming in the sunlight, her long dark hair blowing carelessly about her face. It gave her a voluptuous sensation that caused a tenseness in her stomach.
Wantonly she lifted her breasts in her hands and rolled them, feeling the deliciousness of the sensation. She could still remember the pressure of his fingers, the touch of his lips on them.
The nipples grew hard as she pinched. She let her mouth grow slack. A sensual murmur of desire should have come out, but all she could manage was a low hissing sound, the passage of air through her teeth.
The young man's name was Phil. She had read it on Harvey's lips the day they were introduced. He was much nicer than Harvey ever had been, gender, more understanding. Still, at the proper time, he had mounted like a stallion and driven her to the limit of sensual pleasure.
She shaped his name with her lips, but of course nothing came out. Her eyes were warm, filled with tears. If only for a moment she could have spoken-just for one moment-so she could make him understand how much she needed him to stay and hold her in his arms on the bed. To rest for a moment, then take her again, time after time until he drove this wild hunger out of her body and left only contentment and peace.
But he had gone away, although she had held him, tried to make him realize that the one time was not enough. It was almost worse than if he had never touched her at all, because it only stirred up the fires of her passion, making her ache even more for complete gratification.
She needed a man so much that she would have taken almost any man who happened along at that moment. It was miserable to feel this way and not to be able to do anything about it. If only she owned a car and could drive into town, she was certain there would be someone there who would need her as much as she needed to be ravished again.
But there was no car. Once a week, she rode into town with her neighbors, the Bradens. But that was only to pick up groceries and supplies. She was stuck here, alone, and the only way to get into town would be to walk the twelve miles. It was too far. By the time she arrived, she would be exhausted. She would not be attractive because of the sun and the dust. Who would want her the way she would look.
Of course, someone might come along the road and pick her up. Now and then, a car did pass. But then why even go into town? A man might be driving alone.
Dorothy was only half aware that she was walking along the driveway. Then she was standing on the shoulder of the road, on a patch of grass to protect her bare feet from the gravel. She looked in both directions, but no cars were in sight. She closed her eyes, breathed in the fresh air, expanding her naked breasts. The sun touched them, heated her body, formed little beads of sweat that ran down between her swelling breasts and across her belly.
She stood there for twenty minutes, and she was about to give up when, at last, she heard the far-off rumble of a car that was coming from the direction of town. She waited impatiently while excitement built up inside her.
The car rounded a distant curve. She watched it growing larger, the dust rolling up behind the rear wheels. When it was a few hundred yards away, the car suddenly slowed but it kept coming toward her. She tossed her head, letting her hair blow away from her face. Then she waved. The old man behind the wheel bugged his eyes at her. The car nearly ran into the ditch. But at the last moment the old man who was driving swerved, and kept the car on the road.
The man had been too old to do her much good, yet Dorothy was disappointed. She was amazed at the violence of her hunger and the nearly demented state of mind it had put her in.
What must the old man have thought when he saw her standing there? She didn't actually care, except that he probably would tell someone about it, then the malicious gossip would begin. But what did it matter? She could never hear the talk anyhow, and this was almost as though there were no talk. She lived in too much of a world alone to let such things as gossip bother her.
If only Norman still were alive, she would need nobody else. Together, they had made their own world on the farm and had built up a kind of insulation that protected them from the harsh reality outside.
Norman had been like her. In fact, they had met at the special school for deaf-mutes. After their marriage, they had worked and saved their money until they had enough to buy the little farm. And it had been wonderful until the day he climbed the windmill to repair it and fell to his death.
So Dorothy had been left a widow, with a young woman's body and the hungers that never seemed to be satisfied, like a fire that could not be put out. But in a world of strangers, she found that communication of these desires was almost impossible. So she had to be content with the relief she could obtain temporarily with such men as Harvey, and now the new man on the milk route whose name was Phil.
For another five minutes she stood beside the road, but no more cars came by. At last she walked slowly back to the house and went inside.
An accumulation of dirty dishes lay on the table, but she had no desire to wash them now. She could think of nothing but the gnawing hunger that twisted inside her, making her blood boil and her skin prickle with heat.
She saw the bed where, such a short time ago, the young man had made love to her, and mechanically her thighs began to twist at the memory.
Turning to the mirror, she stared at her naked body reflected there. With both hands she lifted her hair, pulling it back from her face, then she let it fall. Her breasts rose and fell with her excited breathing.
They were lovely breasts, she thought. Ripe and full, with hard pink nipples. They throbbed as though they were about to burst, aching for a man's kisses. She held them, massaging, stroking, until passion leaped inside her once more, a flame that burned with white-hot intensity.
With a sudden feeling that someone was watching, she whirled around. Then she shook her head, with a grim smile. What did it matter? She would welcome the feel of a man's eyes on her body. There was no shame in the need that she felt. It was an appetite, like hunger and thirst, that had to be satisfied.
She squeezed and rubbed her breasts in a circular motion, then slid her hands downward. They moved across her stomach to her thighs while her hips began a slow, undulating motion in the same tortured tempo.
She looked at her eyes in the mirror and saw that they were staring, with an inner madness. She opened her mouth and tried to scream, but no sound came out. Then, frantically, she ran through the house, beating her arms against her bare breasts. Her body was aflame. Gasping for breath, she made her way back to the bed and fell across it. She felt suddenly weak and nauseous. Her strength was ebbing. She lay on the bed with her eyes closed, so tired that she wondered if she would ever get up again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was close to noon when Phil made his final stop, then crossed over to the highway for the trip into town. He noticed that the truck handled differently now because of the extra weight from all the full cans of milk. Until he grew more familiar with the truck, he made it a point to drive cautiously. He held the speed down to forty, even on the highway.
He began to think about the exciting pleasure he had experienced with Dorothy, the breathlessness he had felt when he held her naked body in his arms. The rumble of the truck lulled him. A sensual desire slowly returned, warming his blood, causing him td quiver with a kind of intoxication.
Because he was daydreaming, he hardly noticed the girl at the side of the road, waving her arms at him, until he was almost past her. He shoved on the brakes. The truck rolled heavily to a stop.
The girl was Cordelia, and she had a suitcase with her. She smiled. Her soft reddish hair fluttered about her pretty face. Picking up her suitcase, she ran to the door and slid into the cab beside Phil.
"Where are you going?" he asked curiously.
"Hi, Phil-honey." She leaned across and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Her soft breast mashed delightfully against his arm. "I'm running away from home."
"Why?"
"Daddy beat me again, after you left. With a big leather strap. You ought to see the welts he made."
"Because you were talking to me?" Phil asked.
"That's right, Phil." She pouted her full lips, which had been freshly painted crimson. "I made up my mind it's the last time he's ever going to beat me."
"But where can you go? Do you have relatives somewhere who will keep you?"
"I don't need relatives. I can take care of myself. I'll get a job somewhere. There must be lots-of jobs-maybe wait tables or clerk in a store. What I'd really like to do is get a job dancing, like some girls I saw once at a carnival that came to town."
"You wouldn't want to do anything like that," Phil said, a little shocked at the idea.
"Why not? I've got a good figure. And I'm a lot prettier than those girls were. A boy I know told me so. And one of them was real old. Twenty-five at least."
"But that isn't the kind of life for a girl like you," Phil said, still trying to persuade her not to take such a job.
"Any life would be better than living on the farm and getting beat with a strap every time I even look at a boy," Cordelia said. "Besides, I want to get out and see a few sights."
"It won't be as easy as you think."
"I'll get by, honey. You don't have to worry about that. I can take care of myself."
"Well-" Phil hesitated for a moment, thinking it over. "I suppose I can take you into town, if you're determined to run away. But I wouldn't want your father to know I helped you."
"How would he know?" She laid a hand on Phil's leg and gave it a teasing pinch. "Just let me out at the bus station, and I'll be real obliged to you."
"Well-all right," he replied, without enthusiasm.
"I've got a better idea," Cordelia said, brightly. "Why don't we park down a side road and have us some fun?"
Phil blushed at the suggestion of such a thing and at the brazen way she had said it. But the truth was that he would have liked very much to do just that.
"I have to get this milk back to the creamery before it sours," he said.
"Oh, honey." She slid against him, kissed his cheek and stroked his leg with her fingers in a way that was almost maddening. "Think of the fun we could have."
"I'm sorry, Cordelia."
His breath was catching in his throat, making it difficult to speak. His whole body was hot with desire. But he had to think of his job first.
"Well-" she sighed. "Just let me out at the bus station then, I guess."
Phil drove on into town and double-parked in front of the Greyhound sign. Cordelia gave him a quick peck on the lips and stepped down to the street with her suitcase.
"Thanks, Phil. I'll never forget you for helping me out. I just wisht I had a chance to show my appreciation."
He mumbled in confusion and drove away, quickly. At the creamery station he backed up to the loading platform and unloaded the truck. Then he filled it again with empty cans, and he was ready for the next morning run. He drove the truck over to the garage and parked it, then climbed into his old jalopy. It was an hour later by the time he passed through town on his way home.
In front of the bus station, Cordelia was sitting forlornly on the green wooden bench, with her suitcase beside her. The instant she saw Phil, she jumped up and waved to him. He pulled up to the curb. Before he could get out of the car, she was already climbing in the door with her suitcase. She threw it carelessly into the back seat.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Honey, I just missed the bus. There isn't another one going anywhere for three hours. The longer I sit there, the less chance I've got of getting away. I know my daddy is looking for me right now. And if he finds me...."
"But I can't do anything about it."
"Yes, you can, honey. You can drive me over to Freemont. There'll be buses leaving from there. And my daddy would never think of driving there to look for me.
"Well-I don't know," Phil said, hesitatingly.
"We can park along the way and make a little whoopee," said Cordelia, with a teasing smile.
She licked her lips and stared at him with her big brown eyes. Then she took a deep breath, purposely shoving up her breasts for him to see. He looked because he could not help himself. He noticed the points of her nipples, which indicated that she had no bra under her dress.
His face felt feverish. She reached over and stroked his leg. Her hand began to torment him.
"Okay," he said, hoarsely.
"I knew you'd think it was a good idea," she whispered. "And you won't be sorry, honey."
Without another word, he started the car and backed away from the curb. Cordelia slid close beside him, keeping her hand on his leg while he drove out of town on the highway that led to Freemont.
He already was thinking of what he and Cordelia were going to do, tingling with anticipation. Dorothy had started something in him, changed his ideas about a lot of things. This kind of temptation was more than a man could fight. And why should he even try?
Phil knew that because he was young, the short time he had spent with Dorothy that morning would only serve to stir up his desires, make him even more excited for another girl. And that was exactly why he felt the throbbing pulse of desire in him now, like molten fire pounding through his veins.
As soon as they were outside the city limits and rolling along the open highway, he slid his arm around Cordelia's waist, moved his hand up and deliberately closed his fingers around her round, heavy breast.
He was thrilled by the warmth of her flesh and by the swelling curve of the big soft mound he held in his hand. Despite the thin cloth of her dress that came between them, it was almost as if he held her naked flesh.
"Philsie-you're getting awful fresh," Cordelia said, with a pleased giggle.
He didn't reply. His breath was stuck in his throat, making speech impossible. With one hand on the wheel, he continued to drive very slowly along the highway. Several cars went around them, but he paid no attention. He was too engrossed with the feel of Cordelia's breast in his teasing fingers and the warm pressure of her flank against his leg.
"There's a road we could turn down," she said, laying her head upon his shoulder.
"This one?"
"Uh-huh. There's trees and places we can pull off to hide where nobody will ever find us."
"How do you know?" Phil asked, uncertainly. "Because, I parked here once with a boy."
"Well-all right."
Phil had been slowing the car, and as he reached the corner he turned onto the narrow gravel road which began at once to meander among the thick green foliage of trees that grew on either side. He drove for a half a mile before he found a small car path that turned off through the woods. The path itself was almost hidden by weeds.
"See," Cordelia said, close to his ear. "What did I tell you? Who's gonna ever know we're here?"
Phil nodded. He drove along the path for a hundred yards, then stopped in a small clearing. Limbs brushed across the roof of the car when he parked under a big elm tree.
Cordelia turned at once and began to kiss him passionately, her mouth open and gasping with quivering excitement, her tongue shooting deep into his mouth. Their tongues touched and held, mingling sweetly.
His whole body was aflame with renewed desire. He held her tightly, almost squeezing her breathless.
Cordelia's taut young body trembled against him. Then he felt her hand touch his leg, moving upward. Brazenly, her fingers tormented him.
In retaliation he squeezed her breast, caught the nipple between his thumb and index finger, rolled it gently until it throbbed with hardness.
"I like that, honey," she said, against his mouth.
Her hand moved expertly against his thigh. He grasped and made a gurgling sound in his throat. She looked up at him with dark brown eyes and giggled.
"Are we going to do it in the car?" she asked, in a whisper. "Or do you want to get out?"
"The back seat comes out," Phil replied, huskily.
"We could lay it on the ground."
"It's such a pretty day, ain't it?" Cordelia said, with a teasing smile. "Maybe it would be fun outdoors. I love to feel the breeze on me when I'm naked."
Phil only nodded. He was too breathless with sex hunger to be able to speak. They climbed out of the car and, together, took the back seat, laying it in the shade beside the elm tree.
The woods were silent where they stood, except for the chatter of a bluejay and the whisper of the wind through the .trees. Phil slid his hands around her waist, while her arms encircled his neck. Immediately, they were kissing, while her body pressed hard against him.
She rolled her hips gently while her mouth remained glued to his. Her breasts were soft and warm and exciting as they mashed upon his chest.
In the violence of his excitement, Phil became bolder. He pushed her down until she was sitting on the car seat. He took her breasts in his trembling hands.
"Oh, goodie," she sighed. "Tease me, honey. It's been so long. I ain't had a boy in weeks. I'm so ready, I'm about to blow my stack."
She lay back and squirmed her hips until she was comfortable, then she looked up at him with her expressive brown eyes while his hands caressed her upward thrusting breasts. She tossed her shoulders, giving them a bouncing motion that made them quiver like mounds of jelly against his hands.
"You like to feel them?" she asked.
He didn't answer, but he leaned down and covered her red mouth with his lips. At the same time, he squeezed and massaged her breast. She clawed at his back.
Their breathing increased until they were both panting heavily. Cordelia began to make little throaty sounds of delight while her whole body wriggled in anticipation.
For a long time he lay kissing her and feeling the heated swell of her breasts. But it was becoming too much for both of them. Their excitement was getting out of hand. Suddenly he pulled his mouth away from hers.
"Get undressed," he said. "All right, honey."
Cordelia sat up and at once began to work with the buttons at the back of her dress.
Phil stood up. He was shaking so much with pent-up desire that he found it difficult to remove his pants and shirt. But at last he was naked and standing above Cordelia, who was lying outstretched on the car seat, her arms behind her head, smiling up at him.
The vision of her nakedness was almost too much. His mouth and throat were dry as he looked down at her.
What surprised him most was the immense size of her breasts in contrast to the rest of her small body. There was no question about it, they were over-sized. Yet, they were lovely. Even as she lay on her back, they held up round and firm with only the slightest trace of a sag.
The circlets were fresh and pink and as large in proportion as were the breasts themselves. The little nipples were a darker red color, and they were beginning to harden.
He dropped beside her, put his lips against one shimmering pink center, and felt the nipple rise up even harder. He touched it with the point of his tongue and Cordelia caught him by the neck, at the same time giving a little cry of intoxication.
"Oh, honey," she sobbed. "I think that's so nice. Kiss the other one now."
He did as she asked him to do. While he caressed her feverish breasts, she began a slow, undulating movement of pure passion. Every part of her body seemed to be in motion at the same time. Her breasts rolled and tossed against his gaping mouth. Her arms and hands writhed, pulling at him, clawing his back. Her belly rose up and thrust beneath him, her hips revolved, her legs opened, trying to enfold him.
At last Phil stopped kissing her heated body and raised up to look down at her-. He saw the writhing of her heavy thighs, the agitated movement of her hips. The soft round surface of her belly shook delightfully.
"You're awful sweet, Phil-honey," she muttered, through clenched teeth. "Just awful sweet."
He reached down and laid his hand upon her stomach and felt the instant response, the quiver of muscle inside, a flexing action that he had triggered by the mere touch of his fingers on her bare skin.
"I'm ready-" she cried. "Come on, honey."
Her eyes were squeezed tight and she was biting her lip as she awaited him, with her arms open. She raised her legs, bending them at the knees, and the movement imparted a tilt to her hips that was an invitation to delirious pleasure.
The moment Phil lowered his body, he felt a trembling in her flesh as she clamped tightly to him. Her teeth sank painfully into his neck and she began to revolve her hips, still clinging to him with her legs locked high around his waist.
Phil gripped the flesh of her rump, which was slick with sweat, and together they plunged and tossed, raising dust from the car springs that grated noisily beneath them.
Phil's passion kindled into a roaring flame. He felt his head begin to spin, and he was aware of nothing around him, nothing but the tossing, fiery body of the girl he held in a tight embrace. Cordelia made throaty little barking noises, then all at once she threw back her head and cried aloud. It was a wailing cry of release, of shivering delirium.
He felt the response in her body, at the same instant. Sudden shocks coursed up and down her shimmying flesh. She clung to him savagely, thrusting upward, driving him to the limit and beyond. A shudder coursed the whole length of his body, then an electric bolt like lightning shot along his spine. In a moment he was lying upon her outspread body, while they both lay speechless, unable to move. They lay that way for nearly a minute before strength began to return and they were able to break apart.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Every now and then, as Cordelia sat alone in the Freemont bus station, she gave a soft little giggle that was not loud enough for anybody else to hear. But the giggle was a result of the exuberance she felt at the lingering memory of how nice it had been to lie in the woods on the old car seat and feel the weight of Phil's body upon her, the thrusting drive of him as he tormented her to an explosion of fulfillment.
It had been wonderful.
She couldn't remember when she had loved giving herself to a man so much. The truth was, there had been only a few boys in all her eighteen years because her father never had given her much opportunity. It was seldom that she ever managed to get out of his sight long enough to make a pass at a boy.
When she did get a chance, she didn't waste time for some boy to make the advances. She went right after the first boy who looked willing.
In this way, she had not been very selective. This probably was why she had liked Phil best of all. He was a nice-looking boy, and he certainly was no slouch when it came to making a girl happy. She giggled again.
Best of all, she had escaped her father. He never would find her now, even if she sat here three days waiting for a bus. But she had bought a ticket to Samson City, and the bus would be taking her there in half an hour.
The thought of going excited her. She had no idea what to expect in the big city, but she was going to make the most of it. She was going to have fun and just let things come as they may. If she saw a boy or a man she liked, she certainly wasn't going to fight him off very hard.
She had had a taste of that kind of fun, and she wanted more. Her appetite was growing. She had never really had her fill, but she would soon change all that.
This time she giggled so loudly that she had to cover her mouth to keep from being heard. Several boys had walked by and had given her hungry looks. This made her happy too because it helped her know that she was attractive to boys. It gave her a feeling of confidence, a sense of domination.
Oh, the world was wonderful! It was great to be alive, to be free from her father with his sharp, accusing eyes and his harsh words of reproach.
"Hello, beautiful-"
Cordelia looked up and saw the tall smiling man who was standing in front of her, his knees almost touching hers. She hadn't noticed him at all. Maybe he had been standing there for a long time while she had been engrossed in her thoughts.
She smiled back and game him a slow, appraising examination. She liked what she saw.
He was older than Phil, by several years. And he was dressed in a different manner entirely. His clothes had a city look to them. He wore sharply creased trousers and blue suede shoes, and his jacket was handsome, a pale blue-gray with fine yellow stripes. His tie was yellow, to match the stripes in his jacket. And he was smoking a cigar, in a plastic holder. "Hi," she said, sweetly.
Without asking her permission, he sat down beside her. But she was pleased that he did. She certainly would have given her permission if he had asked.
As his knee brushed against her leg, she almost giggled once more. For it gave her a sudden memory of how it had been earlier today under the trees, with Phil making love to her, his hot mouth kissing her passionately.
"I see you're waiting on a bus," the man said, in a friendly manner.
"Yes," she replied. "Are you?"
"Where you going?" he asked, without bothering to answer her question.
"Sampson City. Is that were you're going?"
"Got-a job there?"
He was looking her up and down, and judging from his expression, he liked what he saw. "Not yet, but I hope to find a job."
"You're leaving home?"
"How did you guess?" she asked, in surprise. "I'm running away, if you want to know. I got tired of having my daddy beat on me all the time."
"I don't blame you at all, doll," he replied, sympathetically. "I wouldn't put up with that kind of treatment either."
"He beat me with a leather strap," she said, with a pout. "It made welts on me. I could show you-" Then she giggled. "Maybe I'd better not. Here, anyhow."
"We could go to my hotel room."
He reached over and took her hand, which she permitted without protest. In fact, she was glad that he did. She liked the feel of his fingers, wound in hers. She kind of went for him. He was a nice-looking guy. And the way he dressed, she could tell that he had been around. He wasn't some old yokel from the country.
"Well?" he asked.
"You really mean it?"
"I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't. You can always catch another bus. We'll go up to my room and have a couple of drinks. You look like a girl who enjoys a little fun."
"Oh, I do-" she said, squeezing his hand.
Without another word, the man stood up and took her suitcase. She panicked for just an instant, wondering if he was trying to steal her things. Then she decided that he was too nice to be a thief. All the same, she was forced to follow him out the door of the bus station, because he Had no intention of letting her carry the suitcase.
They walked two blocks up the street and into the lobby of a big hotel. There was a lot of furniture in the lobby, but some of it seemed a little old and shabby. The rug had large worn spots in it.
When they were on the elevator she said, "I don't even know your name."
"Just call me Frankie."
"I'm Cordelia."
"You're sure a pretty girl, Cordelia."
"I like you, too."
They stepped off the elevator, and he led her down a long dark hallway. He opened a door with a key which he took from his pocket. As soon as they were inside the room he put down her suitcase and grabbed her. He was rougher than she had expected, but still she liked the way he kissed.
Without a word, he began to undress her. She giggled and turned around so he could get at the buttons of her dress. Then, he was playing with her bare breasts, molding them with his capped hands, pinching the nipples. She responded at once, her breath quickening. She felt hot all over, every place he touched her with his wandering hands.
"Let's go to bed," he murmured, against her cheek.
"All right," she replied, eagerly.
She stood naked beside the bed and watched him undress. Then they lay down together, and in the same movement, slipped into each other's arms.
Cordelia lay on her back and felt the weight of him while he kissed first her eyes and mouth, then moved downward to kiss her neck. Finally he was kissing one breast while he held the other and manipulated the nipple, causing it to throb. His mouth was warm and teasing.
"Golly, I like that," she whimpered.
He moved to the other breast and began to kiss it, running his tongue over the hard little nipple. She smiled and stroked his hair.
His hands were running all over her body, massaging and stroking, from her breasts to her thighs. She parted her legs slightly, already wanting him, anxious for him to begin. She could not resist. She didn't want to. This was what she had been needing for so long that she was starved for it. Now she was going to get her fill. And her father could do nothing to prevent it.
Her father could go to hell for all she cared.
She was going to have any man she wanted, as many times as she felt like it. And she was going to love every moment of each experience. She was going to start living at last. She should have run away from home a long time ago.
She ran her hands down Frankie's back as he moved above her. She waited, expectantly. Then her body tensed as he fell upon her, taking her roughly.
At first he hurt her, yet it was so hot and pulsing that she didn't want him to stop. She groaned aloud and locked her arms around his neck. He drove violently, causing her to scream. The more she cried the more it seemed to drive him to increased savagery.
And she loved it. She never wanted it to stop. She kicked with her legs, raised them higher. His weight held her down on the sagging bed.
The fire inside her became a roaring flame, engulfing her, driving her to a madness of desire. At the final moment, she screamed. The delirium was too much. As the tremors slowly died within her, she let her head fall back upon the pillow and relaxed into a semi-conscious state.
She must have been sleeping for a long time. The light outside her window seemed pale, as though it were reflected from the setting sun.
She sat up at once, fearfully. But her suitcase was on the floor by the door where Frankie had put it. She looked down beside her in the bed. Frankie was gone. His clothes were not on the chair where he had left them. So he must have dressed and gone away. Where would he have gone? She didn't want him to leave her like this. She needed him. She was afraid and lonely and she needed someone to hold her.
She caught her breath as the door pushed open. A man stuck his head inside. She could tell in the pale light that the man was not Frankie, and for a moment, she thought she might scream. But the man was smiling at her. He didn't look as though he was going to hurt her.
She watched him move into the room and close the door. Then removing his shirt, he came over to sit on the bed.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"Friend of Frankie's," the man said, in a husky voice.
He was a big man, older than Frankie, and with a coarse face that was marked with several scars. He laid a big hand on her breast. She shrank back, but almost immediately, the hand began to squeeze, and before she knew it, she was enjoying what the man was doing to her.
She giggled softly and let her head fall back upon the bed. The hand covered her breast; fingers dug gently into the soft mounds of her flesh. She felt her nipples rise hard against the palm of his hand.
"You shouldn't be doing that," she said, in a teasing voice. "I don't even know you."
"You like it though, don't you, baby?"
"That's got nothing to do with it."
She had the giggles and couldn't stop.
"Frankie told me what a sweet little chick you were," the man said. "And he knew what he was talking about."
"Where's Frankie?" she asked, suddenly remembering him again.
"He had to take care of some business, so he told me to come up and see how you were. You conked out on him, so he just left you sleeping."
"When is he coming back?"
"He'll be back later, I reckon."
The man removed his hand all at once and stood up. Cordelia knew what he was going to do, but she made no protest. She already had made up her mind she was going to give in. She just smiled and watched as the man removed the rest of his clothes. Then he crawled into bed beside her. Golly, she thought to herself, this is the third man in one day. She didn't know when she had had so much fun.
The man was on top of her, holding her down with both his hands on her breasts. She fluttered her lashes and chewed her lip while he pinched until her breasts throbbed.
"Honey, you've got a real pair. Purtiest I've seen in a long time. And on such a little gal."
"You ain't the first one that's told me how nice they were," she said, with real satisfaction.
They both moved in such a manner that all at once they were locked to one another, and the delicious friction began. Cordelia whimpered and kissed him with her mouth open, her tongue darting. That seemed to drive him wild, because he began to thrust and pound at her with his big, heavy body. It almost drove the breath out of her, but she loved every moment of it.
She worked with him, moved with him, thrust with her thighs and clung with her legs. In only a moment, she realized that she was driving him toward the summit. And when it happened, she felt the shock waves coursing through him. The same waves seemed to transmit themselves to her, sending her spinning in a frenzied orbit of delirium.
After it was over, she seemed to float weightlessly upon the bed, so numb that she was not conscious of his weight. Only when he crawled away from her did she realize that she had been supporting a man so large. He smiled down at her for a moment before he began to put on his clothes.
Cordelia watched with the same dreamy unconcern as when she had watched him remove his clothes.
She heaved a contented sigh and closed her eyes.
"Here you go, baby," the man said, very close to her. "It was damn well worth the money-"
Her mouth gaped open when he handed her a bill and walked out the door. She unfolded the money with trembling fingers. Ten dollars. She never had held a ten-dollar bill of her own before.
"Golly," she murmured.
The door opened again and Frankie came in. He was smiling just as he had smiled at her in the bus station. He sat down beside her on the bed and gave her thigh an intimate squeeze.
"Not bad for ten minutes work, is it, doll?"
"Golly, it's a lot of money. Wasn't he nice-"
"It's all yours. And you can make lots more just like it. But from now on, we split fifty-fifty. I'll round up the customers and you service them."
"That's all I have to do?"
"That's all, doll. Easy, isn't it?"
She smiled as she looked at the money stretched out between her fingers. Then she giggled.
"I never knew I could make so much money-and have such fun doing it. Why, it isn't even work."
With a gay little laugh she threw her arms around Frankie's neck and pulled him down on top of her, kissing his face, guiding his hand to her breast. He began to breathe heavily, then he stood up to remove his clothes. Cordelia waited, expectantly. Already she could feel excitement growing inside her, the aching need to be ravished again. The more she got, the more she seemed to need. For the first time in her life, she was going to get her fill.
CHAPTER NINE
Laura Brewer hurried through the breakfast dishes so that she could watch for the milk truck when it drove up in the yard. She had made up her mind that she was going to talk with Phil, even if it meant risking a beating from her husband, Luke.
Her life alone on the farm with Luke was growing so unbearable that she would take any chance just for a few moments of conversation with someone besides her husband. Phil actually was the only person she saw from day to day. And even if he weren't a young, handsome man she would have sought his company, out of pure loneliness.
She knew that it would be so easy to fall in love with him, and to give herself to him. Yet she wasn't afraid of the consequences. She felt a recklessness she had never known before, probably a result of her desperate need to talk with someone besides Luke.
Because Luke had driven into town for supplies, she would have an opportunity that might not come again in a long time. She was standing on the back porch when the big truck drove into the yard. She knew it must look shameless the way she ran out to greet Phil, but she couldn't help herself. She almost threw her arms around his neck, she was so glad to see him.
"Hello, Mrs. Brewer," he said with a smile.
He looked handsome in his white uniform. She felt ashamed in her faded cotton dress, one of the three cheap dresses Luke had given her since they were married.
"Won't you call me Laura?" she said. "I want to call you Phil. We'll be seeing each other every day, so why should we be so formal?"
"I guess you're right," he replied, with a smile.
"You're the only person I ever get to see," she murmured. "Luke never lets me off the place, even to go visit the neighbors. And he runs anybody off who comes to visit. You don't know what he's like-"
She didn't know she was going to cry. But it had built up inside her for so long. Phil stared at her in surprise. She started to turn away when he caught her by the arms and held her.
"What's wrong? Can I help?" he asked.
She shook her head. She felt his hands holding her gently, then he pulled her close. She lost control. She wanted to kiss him, and she did. Her mouth opened against his lips. For the first time in her life she felt a real response to a man. She seemed to melt inside, and there was a physical hunger that left her breathless.
"We shouldn't be doing this," he whispered, but he made no move to break away.
"I don't care," she answered in a voice that was defiant. "I don't love him. I want to have someone else-just for revenge. I guess that's terrible of me, isn't it?"
"No," he said awkwardly, stepping back. "But-"
"Don't you want me, Phil?"
He looked at her silently for a long time, then he nodded.
"I wish you weren't married," he said.
"It doesn't have to matter," she said, kissing his mouth. "Luke's gone to town. We'd have time. Please take me in to bed. I want you-"
He shook his head and pushed her away. She had shocked him, made him angry. He began loading the milk cans onto the truck. He "climbed into the cab. She went up and leaned on the door, tried to hold his arm, but he pulled it away.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Brewer," he said, in a shaky voice. "I mean-Laura. I like you more than any girl I've known. It might be different, if you weren't married."
Before she could say any more, he drove out of the yard. She walked back to the house and fell across the bed. She still was there crying when Luke returned.
She continued to lie on the bed, listening to Luke walk through the kitchen. Then he was outside again, working in the yard. A sudden pained yelp brought her off the bed. She ran out the back door and stood on the porch.
Luke was standing over her puppy, kicking at the limp body with the toe of his shoe. In one hand he held a hoe as though he had just used it for a club. Laura jumped down from the porch and ran across the yard.
"Damn you-damn you!" she screamed fiercely. "You killed him-you monster."
"Sure" Luke replied, sourly. Then he smiled, showing his long, yellow teeth. "The little bastard tried to bite me. I don't take that from no animal."
"He didn't!" Laura cried. "Pepper wouldn't bite anyone, not even you. He was my dog-he Was all I had."
"So-" Luke muttered, "you think more of your dog than you do of your husband."
"What kind of a husband are you?" she replied, fiercely. "I'd rather be married to a rattlesnake."
She let out a curse, then she spat. Luke stared at her in surprise.
Then he jumped, swinging his arm suddenly, catching her on the side of the head with his open palm. She fell to the ground. Her head was ringing and the light faded from her eyes. She did not pass out completely, but she remained on her hands and knees until she was fully conscious again.
Luke stood over her, his fists doubled, glaring down with his small, fierce eyes.
"I don't want you saying such things about me any more," he said, slowly. "I give you a place to live. You wouldn't have nothin' if it wasn't for me."
"I hate you," she sobbed, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I won't live with you any longer."
"You don't say-" Luke muttered, with a crooked grin.
"I'll run away."
"You just try to run away," Luke said, holding up his fist menacingly. "I'll kill you, too."
Laura took hold of a fence post and pulled herself up. Then without a word she picked up the dead pup and carried it to the back porch. Luke walked out to the barn. Once after he had gone inside, Laura thought she heard his laughter.
Going into the house, she searched in a closet until she found an old shoe box. Laying the puppy in the box, she tied it with a piece of binder twine. Then she carried it out to the barn, taking a shovel with her.
At the rear of the barn she began to dig a grave. The ground was soft, and soon she had a hole several feet deep, though when she tried to fit the shoe box into it she found that it was too narrow. She began widening the sides.
She was so engrossed that it was a long time before she got the strange impression that she was being watched. She glanced up and saw Luke standing at the corner of the barn.
He stood silently towering above her, and there was a look of amazement on his face. His manner was strange, a kind of wild fear and anger.
"What are you doing?"
His voice was an almost inaudible hiss.
"I'm digging a grave," she replied, still defiant.
"A grave?"
He mumbled hoarsely as if something were tearing at his throat. Then he began to rub his hands up and down along his dirty overalls.
"A grave for Pepper," Laura said.
Luke's manner changed suddenly. And once more he was his old fierce self. He stalked over and grabbed the shovel from her hands, pushing her roughly away.
"Get in the house. There's work to be done. And here you are spending your time on such foolishness. Now git-"
"No," she replied angrily. "Not until I finish his grave."
"I'll finish burying him for you."
Laura was surprised when Luke began digging with the shovel. But she didn't want Luke to have anything to do with burying her dog. She reached for the shovel, and Luke pushed her away.
"He was my dog," she said. "You killed him, damn you. I want to bury him."
"I said git into the house."
"No-"
Luke came toward her, menacingly. She backed away, but he caught her by the wrist and twisted it painfully.
"I don't want you diggin' no more. You understand?"
"Why can't I?" she replied, fiercely.
"I don't want you ever diggin' here again. Don't ever dig here again," he repeated, like a litany. He gave her arm a wrench, causing her to cry in pain. "Remember that."
Laura pulled away from him. The look in his eyes was frightening. She knew it was useless to argue any more, so she returned to the house while he finished burying the pup.
CHAPTER TEN
Once again Phil managed to escape Molly, who had come running out to greet him the moment the truck pulled into her yard. But each time it seemed to become more difficult. She actually had grabbed him and tried to force him into the feed house. Even while they were still struggling, her husband had driven by on a John Deere tractor, staring straight ahead as though he never even saw his wife with Phil.
"Why do you think I need it so bad?" Molly complained. "The damned fool hasn't touched me in over a month. Don't you know I'm human? He'd rather have one of his damned cows. Maybe you think I'm kiddin', but it's the truth."
Phil broke away and jumped into the cab. Molly cursed at him when he drove out of the yard. The whole thing had been like a crazy dream. He never would have believed it if he hadn't seen it himself.
Phil hurried through his route because he was anxious to see Laura Brewer again. He had never known a kiss could be so intimate, but he had practically melted inside when she slipped into his arms. He hadn't been expecting her to kiss him, though he had desired it ever since the first moment he saw her. But that still didn't change the fact that she was a married woman.
She was different from all the others, young and pretty and intelligent. Yet she had married a man like Luke Brewer, which was something he never would be able to understand. And though Phil was certain that he was in love with Laura, he knew she only wanted him as an act of revenge against her husband. That was exactly what she had told him.
If it had been because she wanted Phil for himself, because she felt the same way as he, then who knows? He might have given in despite all of his common sense, which told him that such an affair was dangerous and would never work.
Then why had he bought a present for her, after deciding that he could have nothing to do with her? He looked at the box of chocolates that lay on the seat beside him. It was a sign of weakness, when he should have been strong and determined.
Laura was not standing in the yard when he turned into the drive. He felt a sudden sadness, because he had been looking forward to seeing her.
Slowly he loaded the cans, rattling them loudly so that she would hear from the house. Still, she didn't come out. He was driving away again when he saw her in the front yard, sitting alone under a willow tree. He stopped the truck and went over to her. She was crying.
"What's wrong, Laura?"
He knelt down beside her and caught his breath at her loveliness. Her golden hair lifted lightly with the breeze. Tears ran from her pale blue eyes, down her cheeks.
"Luke killed Pepper."
"Your dog?" Phil asked. Laura nodded.
"He killed him with a hoe, because he said Pepper tried to bite him."
"Why, the dirty scum," Phil said, fiercely. "Pepper wouldn't hurt anyone."
"Of course he wouldn't."
Laura sobbed and leaned her head toward Phil. He held her and their lips came together. Her face was wet with tears, but he didn't mind. Her arms held tightly to his neck. The kiss went on a long time. At last, their lips opened and their tongues touched intimately.
Phil had decided. He wanted Laura more than he ever had wanted any girl. And a man like Luke, who would treat her so badly, had no real claim on her even if they were married.
"I wish I could make you happy, Laura."
"You can, Phil-"
"Well-" He hesitated, not wanting to put it into words. "Where is he now?"
"Disking corn in the north forty," she said, with a faint smile. "He won't be back until noon."
"Shall we go inside?"
She nodded and kissed him hard on the mouth. Then he helped her up from the ground. Holding hands, they walked through the front door and went without a word to the bedroom.
"You don't think I'm terrible for doing this, do you, Phil?" she asked, softly.
"Of course I don't, Laura."
"Because I love you."
He choked, but he couldn't reply. Then they were kissing again, their hands crawling frantically over each other's bodies, exploring, delighting in the newness and the touch of one another, the excitement of a new emotion.
Phil held her by the small of the back, pressing her tightly to him, feeling the ripple of muscle, the soft roundness of her breasts. Her tongue darted through his lips, hot and thrusting without shame.
Young as she seemed, she was a woman. Being married to a brute like Luke Brewer had destroyed her innocence. But Phil understood, and it made him feel even closer to her.
They both were awkward at first as they began to remove their clothes. Phil watched with a tightness in his throat while she unfastened her cotton dress and slid it down her body. He marveled at the pale loveliness of her tapering legs as she stepped out of the crumpled cloth.
She wore only thin faded panties and a ragged bra, most likely the best that her husband would buy for her. But nothing could detract from the delicately feminine lines of her body.
He stood for a moment in speechless wonder, looking her up and down, letting his eyes feast on the creamy smoothness of her flesh, the supple curves of her hips and thighs, the fullness of her throbbing breasts.
She bit her lip with the white edge of her teeth, seeming to take pleasure in his fascinated gaze. Then, for just an instant, a trace of fear clouded her eyes.
"Are you afraid?" he asked.
"Yes," she whispered. "Just a little. I've never done anything like this before. Luke was the only man I've ever-" She blushed. "But he's no longer my husband. I can't think of him as a husband any more."
"No one would blame you for that."
"I hope you won't, Phil. I hope you won't think terrible things about me, after this is over-"
"You'll be my girl then," he said huskily.
"I'll be your wife, if you want me-at least I'll be more of a wife to you than to Luke."
Phil reached for her and she slid into his arms. The warm contact of her bare flesh sent a shock through his whole system. He kissed her, hungrily. She seemed eajer for his bands to hold her breasts. Puiliag away slightly, she made it easier for him to grasp and hoid the quivering flesh.
"I hope we make a baby," she whispered in his ear. "Then Luke wouldn't be able to. It would be ours. We'd know, if nobody else did. I couldn't bear the thought of having a child from Luke-"
"Whatever you want, Laura."
Phil had lost all fear now. He no longer concerned himself with Luke Brewer. Whatever happened, he would protect Laura. He wanted her in every way. If only she weren't married to Luke, he would make her his wife.
"Undress me, Phil," she whispered, and there was a little breathless catch in her voice.
He fumbled with the clasps of her bra until it came loose in his hands. He pulled it away, sliding the loops over her arms. Then he felt actual pain at the beauty of her exposed nakedness.
Her breasts were fresh and young and bewitching. They stood upright, two lovely ovals of unblemished flesh with centers of pink. She lifted her head proudly and the action imparted a movement to her breasts. They swung heavily, trembling from within, shimmering brightly.
Phil noticed that she was blushing. A pale pink color flushed her skin, beginning at her cheeks and slowly descending to her breasts. They looked feverish, and he knew they would be warm against his face.
After she had allowed him to look at her for a moment, she crossed her arms modestly in front of her, covering the circlets but bulging the soft breasts like two tempting pillows.
Phil had thought her lovely before, but he had not really been prepared for the breathtaking beauty of her body. For a while he stood as though stunned, wanting to take her at once, yet not quite daring.
Her blue eyes were bright, staring at him. She pursed her lips in a saucy invitation.
"Come to me, Phil," she murmured.
Before he moved closer, he hurriedly removed his clothes. But she still wore the panties, and the sight of them, covering a part of her loveliness, made him almost furious. He wanted to tear them away.
Still, very gently, he stepped up to her and grasped the elastic band, then began pulling the panties down her hips, across her trembling thighs. The smooth warmth of her legs brushed against his fingers as he slid the panties to the floor.
Then she was as naked as he, and they rushed together, clinging violently while their mouths struck in a fierce, overwhelming kiss.
Her fingers crawled up and down his back. He slid his hands downward along the curve of her waist and grasped the soft round bulbs of her buttocks. She gave a little cry of delight and shoved even closer to him, twisting her thighs.
His knees became weak from the infectious excitement she was filling him with. He had a feeling for a moment that his legs no longer would hold him. And the weight of her as she clung to his neck seemed to drag him down.
"The bed-" he whispered, moving her backward.
She nodded and continued to smother his mouth with hers, thrusting frantically with her tongue.
He bent her backward and let her down gently. Still she would not let him go for an instant. The weight of his body caused her to groan. She began to pant loudly and, at the same time, make sharp gurgling sounds in her throat.
He pulled way at last and gazed down at her, gasping to regain his breath. Her eyes were glazed with heat, the lids partly closed. Her mouth was swollen, her golden hair tossed carelessly about her face.
In her sensual hunger, she lowered her hands and took hold of her own breasts, cupping them and thrusting them up until they seemed even larger. With a lazy movement, she shook them gently, rolling them before his eyes. At the same itme she commenced to roll her hips, tossing and lifting up from the bed. Her round little belly quivered with the agitation that seemed to have seized her whole body.
"Do you like me, darling?" she murmured.
Phil was so entranced that he could not speak a word. He longed to tell her how lovely she was, how much she affected him, but he had lost his voice.
At last, with a kind of desperation to let her know how he felt, he lowered his face against her throbbing breasts and covered them with feverish kisses.
"Oh, darling," she sobbed.
Her hands caught hold of his head, pressing his face deeper into the soft, scented flesh. He opened his mouth, caught a hard little nipple between his lips and began to stroke and tease it with the point of his tongue.
A shudder, like an electric shock, coursed through her, causing her hips to swivel and thrust with animation. She pulled at his hair with excited fingers. He opened his mouth wider, drew in as much of the lovely round globe as he could cover with his tormenting lips.
"Oh, Phil-" she cried. "Oh, my darling, do that. I've never known anything so wonderful."
He was not in the least shocked by her words and by the way she responded to his caresses. It was natural and good, because the tie between them was stronger than between most couples who made love for mere physical pleasure. Even her pagan twisting seemed right to him. He wanted her to be this way, not ashamed and embarrassed by her passion.
She was rolling upon the bed beneath him, arching her back, rolling her hips, tossing upward with her thighs, writhing her lovely legs.
Still, he clung to her, smearing his mouth over her hot, tingling breasts. He gasped for air, but she clung to his head, would not let him pull back. And all the while she was sobbing and moaning in a kind of demented cry of sheer delight.
She took a breast in her hand, the breast he was kissing, and she shook it against his gaping lips. It roused their excitement to a fiery pitch.
Phil could hold off no longer. He had to take her now, if it meant shoving her roughly down upon the bed and forcing himself upon her. But from the heated look in her eyes, that was just the way she wanted to be taken.
She bit her lip hard while he leaned above her. She reached up and stroked his cheek.
"You're shaking all over, darling," she murmured.
"You've made me that way-"
"I know. I'm glad." Her arms opened wide and she arched her body. "Come to me, darling."
She seemed to flow into his arms. They fastened together and held each other in a twisting, flaming embrace. Her arms and legs clung tightly, squeezing him almost breathless. And the maddening toss and surge of their bodies began.
He cupped her bottom as he flung himself at her, driving the breath from her in heavy gasps. Her eyes were wide open, staring at him.
"Don't hold back, Phil," she sobbed. "It won't be long. I never knew anything could be so wild, so thrilling-"
The finish came with blazing suddenness, and they clung to each other, shuddering, while they were caught up in the spine-shattering culmination. Phil felt his nerve-ends tingling beyond endurance while she screamed her passion against his ear. Then he fell upon her and was unable to rise up from the bed.
Slowly, strength returned. And as he lay beside her, holding her naked body in his arms, she told him about her life-how she had come to marry a monster like Luke Brewer. Phil understood everything then, and he loved her more than ever.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Molly stared at the large skillet of frying potatoes as they sputtered on the stove. The sight of them almost turned her stomach. Once she had liked fried potatoes, but a person could get too much of anything. Every since the day she had married her husband, she had been frying potatoes for him.
The damned fool would eat nothing else. He demanded potatoes three meals a day. Ham and eggs and potatoes for breakfast. For dinner and supper it was either pork chops and potatoes, or steak and potatoes. It never varied. It never would.
Just as her sex life with him never would change or vary either. Once a week was the most she could hope for, no matter how much she shouted at him, insulted him. The remarks she had made about his manhood, yet he would plod silently away with his head down, thinking about the fence he was going to mend or what he would plant for the cash crop in the spring.
What was more infuriating than anything else, the sonofabitch preferred the cows to her. She had caught him at it, and he took her tongue-lashing without a word, ignoring her. Cows were a habit he had picked up in his youth-a thing which happened more than many people suspected. He should have married a damn cow, except he needed someone to fry his potatoes for him.
As she stirred the potatoes with a spoon, her eye fell on a can of roach powder that rested on the shelf above the sink. What if she poured in a spoonful to flavor the potatoes? It would serve him right. She contemplated the prospect with pleasure.
A sudden roll of thunder followed a quick lightning flash. She went to the door and looked out, saw the lantern moving past a window of the barn where he was milking the cows. She had hoped he might have been struck by the lightning.
Today again she had tried to catch the new driver on the milk route and take him to the feed shed. But the kid was too young or too scared. At least she hadn't succeeded yet, though she hadn't given up either. With Harvey gone, she was getting in desperate shape, needing a man the worst way. What the hell was a woman supposed to do?
If she could even get off the farm, drive into town where there were plenty of willing men who would jump at the chance to top a healthy, oversexed female wench. But the bastard had the keys to the car, and she didn't even know where he hid them.
She still was standing in the doorway, letting the damn potatoes burn. It was dark now, because of the approaching storm. A black cloud was rolling in across the field, and sharp points of lightning darted down from the front edge. The thunder and the storm and the closeness of the air filled her with a kind of irrepressible excitement. She felt a violent burning in her loins that could only be soothed in one way. She needed to clamp a man between her thighs until the fire was quenched and the frustration was driven away.
But what chance was there of that?
She cursed and went to the stove to turn up the burner, then she walked away without stirring the potatoes. The smell of them scorching made her smile.
When her husband came in from the barn, he sat down at the kitchen table without a word. He hadn't washed his hands. He probably liked the smell of the cows. Molly wondered if he had been getting his kicks.
"I don't know why you'd prefer them cows to me," she muttered, fiercely. "You got to run around in front to kiss them."
It was a taunt she often threw at him, but he merely ignored her and kept stuffing potatoes down his throat. She had no appetite. Above all, she didn't want to sit and watch him eat while she longed for a little conversation. About anything, even the damned cows, if he would only talk to her.
Standing in the doorway and watching the lightning flash across the sky, she felt a churning inside her that almost drove her crazy with desire. Just to have a man shove her down on her back and mistreat her the way she loved to have done. A real man-just for once.
Almost in desperation, she went around the table and sat on her husband's knee. He continued to eat, shoving a forkful of potatoes into his mouth, as though she were a thousand miles away.
She reached down inside the bib of his overalls, trying to tease hiiri to life. He bounced with his knee and sent her sprawling onto the floor.
"Get away from me, woman. What the hell are you trying to do?" he muttered, continuing to eat.
"You know what I want-" she screamed.
He stared at his plate and ignored her. With a sudden flash of anger she picked up a glass and heaved it at his head. The glass missed the mark and crashed against the wall. She went through the house, crying, while a scream built up inside her, threatening to explode.
In the bedroom, she searched through the top drawer of the dresser for the key to the car. But of course he would never keep it there. Probably he had it with him, and she never would find it. She had to give up the idea of driving into town. But she had to do something, or she would go mad.
She rushed out the kitchen door, onto the porch. The lantern swung from the nail, lifted by the wind. She took it inside and lit the wick. Then, shielding it with her apron, she walked out to the barn.
If the sonofabitch was free with the cows, why couldn't she do the same? She had heard tales, whispered secrets. Stories that had filled her with wild sensations, hot, quaking desire. She walked past the stalls until she came to the one where the yearling pony stood, munching oats from the feed bin.
At the sight of the animal, she felt her belly begin to quiver, and a flush touched her cheeks like fire. Quickly she lifted her dress over her head.
The heat within her grew as she tossed the dress aside and hung the lantern on a nail. She hung the lantern high so that the light fell into the stall.
The pony began to snort and paw at the ground, tossing its head. The long golden mane swung freely. She stood watching the animal and held her breasts, pressing them with her fingers, feeling the flesh bulge outward, the nipples rise to sudden, throbbing hardness.
She felt reckless, a sudden wildness coursed through her body like fire in her bloodstream. She stood with her legs slightly spread, kneading her lush breasts with trembling fingers while the torment grew inside her.
She stood, swaying in the lantern light, her hips grinding and her buttocks twisting. And all the while her eyes were fastened hypnotically on the proud yearling pony, who somehow had caught the feverishness of her need.
Tingling with desire, she slid the door open and went into the stall, then closed it behind her. The pony reared, backing away, then snorted. She reached out and felt the smoothness of its nose. The animal's breath was hot upon her body.
She moved in closer, rubbed her naked body against the pony's flanks. Her voice was husky as she said soft, tender words. Her hands began to stroke. Then suddenly the pony reared, leaping into the air, standing on its rear legs, slashing down with its forelegs.
Molly screamed and stepped away. Her foot slid in the hay that had been spread upon the floor. And she was down, rolling on her back while the hooves descended. A hard solid thing cracked her forehead, blurring her eyes. The pain was sudden and unbearable. She screamed and tried to cover her face. Her skull felt as if it had been shattered. Lightning flashed and splintered into a thousand fragments. Then the dark slowly closed in, shutting off breath and light and everything.
CHAPTER TWELVE
A strange silence hung over the farm as Phil pulled into the drive. It was almost as if the place had been abandoned. He was most surprised when Molly did not come running out to greet him, but he also was relieved that he might get away this once without having to fight her off.
He stopped at the shed where the milk cans were kept out of the sun. When he climbed down from the truck, he saw a note that had been nailed to the door of the shed. He took it down and read: Pick up milk as usual.
He shook his head, trying to figure out what this meant. Then, as he was driving out of the yard, he saw the black wreath hanging on the front door of the farmhouse. Someone had died. He wondered who. Someone along the route would know and tell him. He decided to ask at the next stop.
He didn't have to ask. The woman at the next farm was a gossip from the word go. She was waiting by the milk shed to tell Phil how Molly had been found in the stall of a yearling pony, kicked to death.
"And without no clothes on," the woman said, pursing her lips, primly. "Now what do you make of that?"
For a moment, Phil was shocked. But he couldn't spend his time there trading gossip with the old woman. He was anxious to get along on his route. Laura would be waiting for him, and there was just a chance that her husband would be gone again, disking corn or working in the fields.
At practically every farm someone came out to meet him and to talk about Molly's death, most of them with sly insinutations or cruel, joking remarks. Only Dorothy, the deaf-mute, seemed to have no knowledge of what had befallen Molly. At least she made no attempt to convey any mention of the story by the sign language of her hands or by her facial expressions.
Dorothy looked pale. Phil realized that he hadn't seen her for at least two days. When he questioned her, she touched her face with the back of her hand to indicate that she had been sick with a fever.
But she seemed well once more, for she smiled at Phil faintly and slid into his arms. Then all at once she became a lusting female animal, thrusting and grinding her thighs, smothering his mouth with hers.
Phil tried to push her away, but she clung to him, with her arms tightly wrapped around his neck. He felt the soft pressure of her breasts, which were mashed against him, and he knew that she wore nothing underneath the loose-fitting blouse.
But for all the passion of her kiss and the temptation of her body, he felt little response. Laura was on his mind, and he could think of no other girl. Already he knew that he wanted Laura and nobody else, even while Dorothy was flinging herself at him, wantonly.
"Dorothy, please-" He held her away so she could read his lips. "This has to stop. There's another girl. Do you understand?"
Her face clouded, her dark eyes narrowed, a disappointed pout formed on her full lips. She stared at Phil for a moment, then she tried to hug him again. He held her by the wrists, keeping her at a distance.
"Please believe me-" Phil said slowly, distinctly while she watched his lips. "I like you, Dorothy, but I have a girl-"
Dorothy heaved a defeated sigh. Her eyes were sad. They filled with tears as she stared at him. Then, taking his hand, she led him toward the house. Phil went along reluctantly, prepared to run if she attempted to seduce him once more as she had the other day.
But Dorothy stopped in the kitchen and fumbled through a cabinet drawer until she found the stub of a pencil. On the back of a lid she tore from a cereal box she wrote, then she handed the cardboard to Phil. He stared in amazement at the two words she had written-HELP ME.
Her eyes were soft and pathetic. She moved her lips imploringly, but no sound came from them. Of course he was willing to help her if her request was not too unusual. Smiling faintly, he nodded.
She wrote again-I WANT A MAN.
Phil almost laughed aloud, for her request was so guileless and straightforward. Yet it was pitiful, too. She was a beautiful, sensual woman who should have had no difficulty finding many men who would take care of her temporary needs. But she was too fine a woman to be satisfied with only that. She had been married once; she probably wanted him to find her a husband.
Phil smiled with amusement. He had never thought he would ever be asked to act as a matchmaker, yet here was this dark, lovely woman making just such a request.
Pondering the problem, he pulled back a chair and sat at the kitchen table. When he looked up, he saw a smile of happiness spread across Dorothy's face. She took a cup and saucer from the cabinet, quickly poured coffee for him from a pot on the stove. She was so eager now, so trusting, that he knew he had to think of some way to help her.
One by one he thought about the unattached men he knew in town, and each one he rejected. Some because they would have taken advantage of Dorothy's situation, would have had their sexual fill of her, then dropped her cruelly. Others were engaged, or were not really interested in girls as much as they were in gambling or drinking or fishing or a hundred other things. Some were too old, others too young.
While he thought, Dorothy stood rigidly and watched him with a tense, expectant look on her face.
All at once Phil smiled broadly, for he remembered Sam Billingsly. Sam was a lonely bachelor in his early thirties, maybe two or three years older than Dorothy, and he probably wanted a woman as much as Dorothy wanted a man. Sam even was handsome, but he always had been shyly fearful of girls because he had only one arm. This handicap, however, did not prevent him from running a successful shoe repair shop in town.
The more Phil thought about Sam, the more he was convinced that he had hit upon the right man for Dorothy. Standing up, he squeezed her hand.
"You get dressed up," he said. "I'll stop by for you on my way back and drive you to town."
Dorothy suddenly was so excited that she clasped her hands together and nodded. Then she ran out of the room for a moment. When she came back she was holding a pale blue dress in front of her and staring at Phil as if to ask his approval. He nodded, with a smile.
"Very pretty."
Dorothy kissed him on the cheek, then pulled open the door and pushed him through it. As he drove out of her yard she stood on the porch, clutching the dress, waving at him. Phil whistled gaily as he drove on down the road.
Twenty minutes later he stopped at a small crossroads store to use the phone. When he got Sam Billingsly on the line, he explained the situation to him. At first Sam was reluctant because, as Phil knew, he had experienced a number of rebuffs from girls who did not want to go out with a one-armed man.
"I don't think I'd better meet the girl," Sam said. "You know-what would she think of me? Who wants anything to do with a cripple?"
"Now you listen, Sam. I want you to take my word about this girl. She has the same problem as you ... in a different way."
"Is she-?" Sam didn't complete his question.
"Never mind about that. Wait until you see her."
"All right, Phil. At least I'll give it a try. But if she walks out on me, don't say I didn't warn you."
"Just put on your Sunday clothes and wait for us at your house. I'm bringing her to town when I finish the route."
"I can close the shop for a couple of hours, I guess. But I'll wait on the front porch. If she's a nice girl, it wouldn't look right for her to come right in."
"Whatever you want to do, Sam."
"If she's-" For a moment Sam was silent. "Well, thanks for taking the trouble, Phil."
Hanging up, Phil drove on quickly to make up for the time he had lost. Most of all, he wanted to spend a few minutes with Laura, and he couldn't arrive back in town too late.
This time when he drove into Laura's yard, she was waiting for him beside the milk shed. As soon as he climbed out of the truck, she slid into his arms, and he knew that her husband was not around to see them. Still, he held her away for a moment while he looked into the deep blue of her eyes. "Is it safe, Laura?"
"Yes, darling. He's mending a fence on the other side of the pasture. A tree blew down last night, and he has to fix the fence before the cows get into the corn."
"It's so good to see you," Phil whispered against her cheek. "You feel so soft."
Laura kissed him, then looked up, brushing her golden hair from her forehead. He felt the warm tempting pressure of her thighs against his leg and it built a fever in his blood. She smiled, softly.
"Smell my perfume?"
"I've never noticed you wearing it before," he said.
"Luke never let me buy any. But I was rummaging around in some old boxes in the closet and found a bottle. It must have belonged to his first wife."
"On you, it smells wonderful," he said, inhaling with his face in her hair.
"I put it on for you, darling."
Phil lowered his hand and clasped her breast for a moment, then he took it away. Although they had known every intimacy together, he still was shy in her presence and afraid he might do something to offend her.
"Why did you stop?" she asked, with a teasing smile.
Taking his hand, she put it back on her breast. Phil pressed with his fingers, feeling the round swell of the soft little mound of flesh. A ripe young breast with a throbbing little nipple in the center.
"You can always have your way with me, Phil," she murmured, with a low, feverish sigh.
Then she began to squirm with her body close to his, twisting her thighs in a manner that set him on fire. Her mouth clung to his mouth, her tongue slipped teasingly through his lips and explored shamelessly.
"You like my breasts, don't you, Phil?"
"They're lovely."
His reply was a gasp, for he was breathing heavily. Laura dropped a hand and unbuttoned her blouse, pulling it open at the neck so that his hand could slip through. She wore no bra. The sudden intimate feel of her bare flesh startled Phil. His fingers shook as they touched the hard, thrusting nipple.
"I love for you to do that to me, darling," she sighed. "All morning I've been thinking about this, just waiting for you to come. You don't know how hard it was for me to keep from showing my happiness when Luke told me about the broken fence."
"Then-he'll be gone all morning?"
"Yes, I'm sure he will. Isn't that nice for us?" Laura moaned softly. "But let's hurry to the house and get undressed. Your hand is making me so hot, I'm afraid I'll go out of my mind. I want you, Phil."
"I want you too, Laura," he whispered against the golden softness of her hair.
"I hope this time will be so good that you will never forget me," she said, dreamily.
"How could I ever forget you, Laura?" They kissed once more, urgently, then holding hands they walked quickly to the house. Laura finished unbuttoning her blouse, and when they reached the bed it hung open exposing the round loveliness of her breasts.
Phil reached inside the blouse and squeezed the soft globes, rolling his palm at the same time to arouse the nipples to thrumming hardness. As they kissed he sneaked his tongue between her parted lips and touched her tongue. Her mouth was fresh and sweet.
Her arms clung to his neck in a tight embrace while her hips slowly worked in a rotary motion.
Phil turned loose his grasp of her breasts and felt the young flesh spring up resiliently. His hands still were underneath her blouse, exploring intimately while Laura moaned with growing passion.
He moved his hands around, still holding her tightly, feeling the warm and smoothness of her back. Then, slowly, he moved downward until his fingers came into contact with the rounded globes of her gently swaying bottom. Laura emitted a gurgling cry of pleasure.
Her body pressed harder against him while she hung tightly onto his neck. She began to sigh and moan continuously while her eyes stared up at him and her lashes fluttered with feverish delirium. She dug her fingers into his back and. began to move her hips' and thighs in a hard, frantic movement of desire.
They kissed, smothering each other with their hungry mouths. Finally, they broke away once more. Phil gazed breathlessly down at her lovely, sensual face. Her lips were red and swollen, her eyes had a shining, faraway look. Her breathing was rapid, and he felt the touch of it warm upon his face.
"Phil-" she murmured.
"What?"
"Finish undressing me, darling. Hurry, before I go crazy with desire. I want to feel your hands on me, taking off my clothes, stroking my bare skin."
"Yes," he replied thickly, and with trembling fingers pulled her blouse away, slid it off her shoulders. He caught his breath as her shimmering breasts came into sight. They thrust outward at him, two full pink-tipped hillocks of quivering flesh, so vibrant and flushed with life.
Hypnotically he was drawn to them. Leaning down, he smeared his gasping mouth over the soft creamy flesh, covering them with hot, excited kisses. With a sob Laura clutched his head, pressing him tightly against her.
"Do that," she sighed. "Oh, do that, darling."
He felt her trembling and it infected him like a fever in his blood. After he had drawn the nipples to throbbing hardness with his searching mouth, he prodded them with the point of his tongue, feeling the electric shock that surged through her and caused her hips to shove against him with quick, excited motions. Her head fell back and she groaned with delight.
"Oh, I like that," she mumbled.
Phil was so excited that he had to take her quickly. There was no need to tease her any more because she was out of her head with passionate desire.
Standing upright, he grasped the top of her skirt, searched frantically until he found the buttons that held it. Then he had it free. With one quick motion he slid the skirt down her legs to the floor. She stood beside him, naked and tempting, her arms open to receive him.
Quickly he rushed out of his own clothes and gathered her voluptuous body in his arms. Laura caught him in a fierce embrace and fell backward, her weight dragging him down. They fell sprawling together on the bed.
"Oh, hurry, darling," she cried, tossing her lovely blonde head from side to side upon the pillow.
Reaching up blindly in a delirium of craving, she caught hold of his head and brought it down, pushing his mouth against her heaving, thrashing breasts. For only a moment he kissed them, moving from one to the other while she rose up from the bed, arching her back, tossing her hips and thighs in frantic, circular motions.
"Oh, my-" she gasped. "I've never known anything like this before, darling."
Phil raised his head and stared down at her swaying body, at her incredibly lovely breasts now feverish from his kisses. She slid upward along the bed until she was in the center, then slowly she drew up her legs and awaited him.
The moment he fell upon her with the full weight of his aching body, she groaned and writhed spasmodically. Almost without beginning, they were plunging and churning, both caught in a fiery embrace.
Laura clutched at him with her grasping fingers, clawing his back, painfully. She clamped her legs around his waist, crying her passion against his ear.
"Faster, darling," she sobbed.
Her flesh was burning, enveloping him. Her body flinched and she began to shudder while a loud cry of release poured from her lips. Then she was babbling incoherendy while her body arched up, trembling, tossing wildly, driving him to the summit and over.
Together they reached the point of no return, and together they plunged through the violent explosion which subsided at last with the final quivering tremors of completion. Then, still clinging to him, she began to cry softly while her hot mouth covered his face with kisses. He continued to hold her in his arms while the last spark died away, wishing it could have lasted forever, sad because it was over at least for the moment.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Phil drove as fast as was safely possible along the country road because he was almost an hour late. But the time he had spent with Laura had been worth almost anything, even the possibility that he might lose his job if he continued to come in so late from his route.
Something would have to be done, another way would have to be found to visit Laura. Though he had made up his mind that he had to keep seeing her, for he was in love with her. He could not bear the thought of even one day going by without a few moments of holding her in his arms, even if they could not find the opportunity to go to bed together.
Perhaps he could drive to her farm in the afternoon, after he had finished with his route, or even meet her for a few hours at night, if she could manage to slip away from her husband. But Phil was smart enough to know that this was impossible. They had been lucky, for twice they had managed to be alone when her husband was gone. But their luck couldn't hold out for long. And there was the possibility that he would become suspicious or even discover their affair.
Phil had no doubt that Luke Brewer was capable of torturing Laura to learn the truth. If only she had not had to make such an unhappy marriage in order to protect her mother and her brothers-but wishing would not change the situation. Still, he was not ready to give up hope yet. He loved Laura and he wanted to marry her. If only he could find a way....
Phil was so intensely concerned with his own problems that he almost drove by Dorothy's farm before he remembered that he had promised to pick her up.
He wheeled off the highway at the next county road, drove three miles and turned right again until he came to her farm. Dorothy was ready, waiting for him by the mailbox, wearing the blue dress she had shown him earlier that morning.
He was surprised to see how very lovely she looked in a dress, for he had only seen her wearing blue jeans and shirts. Her long dark hair was carefully combed. It curled around her neck delicately, contrasting with the pale ivory beauty of her skin.
He swung open the truck door and smiled down at her, watched the voluptuous squirming of her body as she sat down beside him in the seat. He felt a hot stab of lust in his stomach as he remembered how it had been between them. For she had been a wild and passionate lover. He had thoroughly enjoyed the hour he had spent with her. Even though now he wanted only Laura and could not actually think of lying with any other woman but her.
"Hello, Dorothy."
She smiled at him happily and squeezed his arm. Then she arranged her dress beneath her so it would not wrinkle. He caught a whiff of the perfume she had used, and it reminded him of the fresh sweet smell of Laura, who had worn perfume for him for the first time that morning.
He started the truck and pulled away. Dorothy sat excitedly clutching her purse and staring out the window. Making conversation with her would be difficult if not impossible, and anyhow she was too happy to want him to talk.
As he drove, vaguely feeling Dorothy's presence beside him, Phil once more began to think about Laura. He remembered the fresh loveliness of her golden hair as it lifted on the breeze, the warm expression of tenderness in her eyes in that first instant when he had driven into the yard this morning. Her smile had been so lovely that it took his breath away.
But she was not just a sweet, exciting woman. She also was a woman in need of love in every sense of the word. She was a full-blown woman whose physical hungers could only be satisfied by a real man. Phil was glad that he was the man she had chosen, and he knew that there would be no other. Even her husband was not truly her husband. After today, Phil had more right to that title than did Luke Brewer.
If only he could actually make it come true. But divorce was impossible, because Luke would then take the farm away from Laura's family. Phil was confident that he could support a wife, but not her mother and the kids.
Which made the whole thing seem hopeless.
Still he had made love to her today, and there would be other days as well. How could anybody remain sad at such a prospect? They still were young. Maybe there would be a way to work things out yet. Phil was prepared to wait years for her if need be, but he had to have her one day for his wife.
As he drove he drifted into a reverie, seeing himself as Laura's husband. The two of them would have their own little house. She would cook for him, take care of all his needs. When he came home from work she would be waiting for him. Sometimes their sexual hunger would be so intense that he would lift her up at once and carry her, laughing and protesting, into the bedroom. The protest would only last for a moment, and she would not really want him to stop undressing her, or stop kissing the shivering loveliness of her breasts. They would soon be wrapped together in a passionate embrace, just as they had been only a short time ago.
Nearing town, Phil slowed the creamery truck. He drove to Sam Billingsly's house, having decided that it was better to let Dorothy out before driving to the creamery station.
He parked in front of Sam's house. Sam was waiting on the front porch. He had been seated in the swing, but in his impatience, he jumped up to pace nervously while Phil led Dorothy up the sidewalk.
A spark seemed to ignite almost immediately between them. They could not take their eyes off each other. Phil stood awkwardly for a moment, completely ignored. Then Sam Billingsly, with a beaming smile, turned to Phil.
"I guess you'd better introduce us."
"Dorothy-" he murmured, "this is Sam Billingsly."
She smiled and nodded. Sam held out his good arm and took her hand.
"I'm pleased to meet you, Dorothy."
"She can't speak or hear," Phil said. "But she's able to read your lips."
"She's beautiful," Sam murmured to himself.
"I guess I'd better get along and unload the truck," Phil said, starting down the steps.
"She's beautiful," Sam repeated, as if in a trance.
Phil climbed into the cab and started the motor. When he pulled away from the curb he glanced toward Sam's house and saw the two of them sitting in the porch swing, very close, staring into each other's eyes. Phil smiled with satisfaction, knowing that if it were not for him they never would have met.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
For the second time Phil had made love to Laura, and as she continued to lie in bed after he had gone, she felt a contentment that she had never known before in her life. Only one other man had made love to her, if that was what you could call Luke's barbaric attacks. Luke didn't even seem to care that she lay woodenly on her back and merely let him have his way. All he wanted from a woman was satisfaction for his animal lust.
But with Phil it was different, and her response to his lovemaking was different, as well. She gave herself to Phil, joined her body to his in such a fusion of passion and love that they seemed to become one.
While Phil got up to put on his clothes, she had lain and watched him, numb with satisfaction and with happiness. Before he went out the door, he leaned down to kiss her. They promised that they would be together, have each other any time that Luke was not around. Then she heard his steps as he went away through the house, and finally the sound of his truck being driven out of the yard.
She began to cry before she realized it was going to happen. Sooner or later Luke was going to find out about them, and when that happened, there was no telling what he might do. Luke was capable of almost anything when his violent temper erupted. Laura was afraid for Phil, yet she could not make herself call a halt to their affair.
Slowly, as she lay upon the bed, physical hunger was renewed again in her. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and remembered how she had clung to Phil impetuously while the weight of his body crushed her. She felt again the shock of the first moment and the quickening stir of desire as they mounted together toward the pulsing climax.
Her face felt warm. Her forehead was damp from tiny beads of sweat that trickled down from her hair. All at once, she realized that she was quivering all over from the memory of their union. She moaned aloud.
Her eyes opened and she realized that she had been twisting her hips upon the mattress, thrusting and squirming, with her thighs clamped together.
She blushed with shame, feeling that she was doing something perverse, yef she couldn't stop the revolving motion of her torso. Her breathing was shallow, her whole body now was hot and damp with sweat. She bit her lip, laid her hands on the flat of her belly, and continued to toss upon the bed.
Excited tremors coursed through her as she remembered the lean, hard-muscled feel of Phil's body against her, the swelling sensations in her breasts as he held them in his trembling hands and covered them with kisses. For an instant, she was frightened when a hot electric thrill went through her, bursting within her stomach. The very same thrill she had experienced with Phil during the final moment of their lovemaking.
Slowly her breathing subsided until it was almost normal. She felt calm again, a luxurious sensation of laziness and peace. She opened her eyes; her body went slack. She relaxed, staring at the ceiling, realizing that she still was smiling.
For a quarter of an hour she continued to lie in bed, then at last she got up and dressed. Her hands fumbled weakly as she buttoned her blouse.
The crying was over, and she felt light again. In fact she had the sensation of being a new and different woman, a woman alive for the first time. She began to notice the world around her-a thing she had not done since the miserable day she had married Luke.
She noticed things like the sunlight in the yard, the gentle stirring of the leaves of the big oak tree. Standing at the kitchen door, she saw birds darting across the sky, a pigeon walking the peak of the barn roof. Everything around her was, all at once, fresh and new.
She began to hum as she stared into the cracked kitchen mirror. Until now, she had only combed her hair to make it neat. How could she fix it differently to please Phil when he came tomorrow? A little thing like that gave her something to think about, made her life seem brighter.
Picking up the comb from the shelf, she began to arrange her hair, combing it out long, then letting a lock fall upon her forehead. She was so engrossed in what she was doing that she did not realize Luke had driven into the yard until she heard him slam the door of the pickup truck.
Automatically, she reacted by throwing down the comb as though it were burning her hand. She backed away from the mirror, smoothed her skirt as she wondered if something about her might reveal what had happened this morning. Luke had an uncanny way of rinding her out, as though he could almost read her mind.
When he stalked noisily through the door she backed away, unable to hide the fear that must be apparent on her face. Her heart beat quickly while Luke stared about the kitchen.
Dirty dishes still were in the sink. The floor was un-swept. He would know that she had done nothing all morning, and he would be furious. But without stopping to say a word to her, he walked through the rest of the house. She listened to his heavy footsteps as he went into the parlor, then to the bedroom. She held her breath. What if he discovered something she had not noticed-anything that might point to the fact that she had taken a man to bed? She tried to think if Phil might have left something that would give them away.
Luke was coming back.
"Why ain't your work done?" he demanded as he stormed through the kitchen door.
She took a deep breath, felt the muscles tighten in her throat and wondered if she would be able to speak at all. Her fingers trembled as she brushed the lock of hair back from her face. If Luke noticed, he would know that she had been primping. Even that would make him furious because he considered it a waste of time.
"Answer me," he shouted, staring at her with hard eyes. His big hands knotted into fists. "What you been doing all morning instead of doing your work?"
"I didn't-feel well today," she replied, meekly.
Luke growled in the depths of his throat, then muttered an unintelligible curse. His face was grimy, and his overalls were damp with sweat, for he had been working in the sun. The smell of him was almost unbearable.
"You're lying-" he shouted.
"It's true. I have a headache "
"There's some man-" Luke's eyes narrowed. The breath hissed through his teeth. "You've been with some man-that's why your work ain't done."
"No-that isn't true," she replied.
But he noticed the quaver in her voice, and his mouth curled with certainty. Laura was shaken by the fear that he had found out somehow about Phil, that he was tormenting her merely to catch her in a lie.
"Stepping out behind my back-" he muttered.
"No, Luke," she cried. "It isn't true. Believe me. There isn't anyone-"
"Shut up!" He took a step toward her. "You think I don't know? You ain't prettying up for nothin'. You won't tell me, but I'll find out. I'll find out-"
With sudden speed his hand shot out, his open palm caught her solidly on the face. Something flashed behind her eyes as she lost her balance and fell back against a chair. She lay sprawled upon the floor, crying and rubbing her head which throbbed with pain.
"Get up. You ain't hurt," Luke muttered. Then he walked to the refrigerator and swung open the door. "Fix me a sandwich. I got to hurry back and finish that fence before the cows get out. I got no time to waste."
Laura nodded and stood up. Circling wide around Luke, she took bologna and cheese from the refrigerator. While he sat at the table and drummed his fingers, she put together a sandwich. As soon as it was wrapped in wax paper, she handed it to him. He went out the door without a word and drove away in the truck.
Laura ran quickly to the bedroom to assure herself that there were no telltale signs. The bed was unmade, but that alone would not rouse Luke's suspicions. She heaved a sigh of relief because he was gone again and she had received nothing more than a slap in the face. But she had made up her mind that she must be more careful after this and go over every inch of the house to be certain that no evidence was left behind.
As she was passing through the hallway, she stopped suddenly. For nearly a minute she stared at the door which led up to the attic. In her new state of awareness she realized that she had hardly noticed the door at all, though she had lived in the house for months.
Maybe it was out of fear that she had avoided even thinking about what was one the other side of the door. For she knew that Luke would be furious if she ever tried to find out. Otherwise he would not have kept it locked with a padlock.
Now her curiosity was aroused. She had found the bottle of perfume in the closet. Maybe she would find something else that belonged to Luke's wife in the attic-more perfume, or perhaps a nightgown she could wear for Phil the next time they were able to be together.
She examined the padlock, which was very solid and could only be opened by the key that fit it.
Where was it she had seen some keys the other day? She thought for a long time before she remembered that it was in cigar box in Luke's dresser drawer. She ran to the bedroom and searched through the box, which was stuffed with old papers and with other odds and ends. Three keys lay in the bottom. She tried all three and the last one fit the lock.
The door swung open. In the dim light that descended from above, she saw a stairway leading to the attic. The stairs were narrow and steep. There was no handrail, so she had to climb the stairs almost as she would climb a ladder.
The roof of the attic was low, slanting away from the center. The room was musty and airless. Dingy sunlight came through one dirty window. Dust was on the floor and everywhere. She saw piles of junk in boxes, an old trunk and a small leather suitcase. A straight-backed chair stood in one corner.
Carrying the chair to the trunk, she sat down and pushed back the lid. Dust floated on the air, causing her to sneeze. She considered opening the window for some fresh air, but she decided against it.
The trunk was filled to the top with old clothes and with stacks of magazines and newspapers. She searched all the way to the bottom of the trunk, but she found nothing she would want. In the boxes around the room, were discarded items that might be found in any attic.
At last she laid the suitcase on top of the trunk and worked open the leather straps. One of the hinges was broken due to the suitcase being so old. The lid fell back. Laura gave a gasp of pleased surprise.
The suitcase was full of clothes-dresses, blouses, even silk hose. A woman's clothes. Digging through them, she Wondered whom they had belonged to. Luke's wife? It was possible that she had left them when she ran away. Laura could understand how desperate and afraid she would have been to leave some of her belongings behind.
For the first time, Laura was curious about Luke's first wife. She wondered what kind of a woman she had been. Or had she been a young girl Laura's age? Maybe Luke's ego was such that he wanted to marry only young women.
And what act of cruelty had finally made Luke's first wife decide to run away? She had been luckier than Laura, for there was no way for Laura to escape without seeing her mother evicted from the farm. Luke's first wife had been free to leave, because she had not had a family. Laura remembered now that Luke had told her his first wife was an orphan, a girl who had come to work for him and later had married him. That was just about the only thing Luke had ever said about her.
Excitedly Laura took the clothes out, one article at a time, laying them on a newspaper she had spread upon the floor. Then in the bottom, under a wool sweater, she found a photograph album. A musty old book with black covers. The pictures inside were yellow, faded with age. Under most of the photographs, someone had written in white ink.
Very quickly Laura discovered which girl the album belonged to, because she was in most of the pictures She was a tall, quiet-looking girl who often wore a plain uniform, a white dress and black cotton stockings. Obviously, the pictures had been taken at the orphanage.
Laura read the names under each picture as she turned the pages. Sally and Betty and me-or Sarah and me-or Mrs. Slade and me. Laura wondered what her name had been. The only name for her in the album was-me.
"Me," Laura whispered aloud, and a chill passed along her spine.
She sat for a long time looking at the pictures of the girl she had never known, but whose life was strangely close to hers. They both had been married to the same brute of a man.
She was haunted by the strangeness of it. Slowly, she turned over each page until she came to the end of the book, then she laid it back in the bottom of the suitcase where she had found it. And as she slowly replaced the clothes, a cold terror permeated her breast.
She knew how lonely the girl must have been-and this album would have been the most important thing in her life. It was a record of the only friends she ever had known. Then why would she have left it behind?
At least she could have taken her treasure along, even if she had had to leave all her clothes. It would have been the first thing she would have taken, if she had gone away. II she had gone away. The thought echoed dimly in Laura's mind.
She jumped up so suddenly that the chair fell over backwards. She knew without a doubt that Luke's first wife had not gone away. She never had managed to escape, for something had happened to her.
What that something was had startled Luke when he found Laura digging Pepper's grave behind the barn. There had been fear on Luke's face for an instant. She never before had seen him show fear, only cruelty and hatred. Luke had killed his first wife and had buried her behind the barn.
At that moment, the pickup truck drove into the yard and slid to a stop with a squeaking of brakes. Laura ran to the head of the stairs, then looked back at the opened suitcase. There was no time now to put things in order. She would have to come back later.
Running down the stairs, she slammed the door. She fumbled with the padlock, finally got it snapped shut. She had no chance to put the keys back in Luke's drawer, so she threw them on the shelf in the kitchen cabinet.
When she looked out the window, Luke was walking toward the house. All at once she was swept with panic, knowing that she could not face him without giving away her secret knowledge. She had to escape, for if Luke suspected that she knew, then he would kill her as he had his first wife.
Dashing through the house, she ran out the front door just as Luke came noisily through the back door. For a moment she stopped outside to catch her breath while the furious beat of her heart pounded in her ears.
She hesitated for just a few seconds, considering whether she should return and try to bluff it through. But Luke would show her no mercy if he suspected that she knew about his first wife and what had happened to her.
Quickly she started running again, turning toward the corn field. She dived into the tall green stalks which slashed against her face. Once she was out of sight in the field she felt safer, but still she continued to run. She knew that Luke would be raving mad when he discovered she was gone. He might even have heard her leave and have followed.
She raised up on her toes, and for nearly a minute, she watched the house. Luke still was inside. At least he was not visible in the yard. Laura continued to watch while she caught her breath. Her throat was raw and burning.
Then she saw him. Luke came out the back door and walked toward the barn with his ambling gait that made him look like a bear or like a big monkey. Her heart almost stopped at the sight of him, fear thickened in her throat.
Ducking her head, she ran on, staying low and between the wide rows of corn. She was too confused to know where to go or what to do. Panic had seized her. She was unable to plan or to think clearly.
Her face was stinging from the slash of the cornstalks when she broke into the open at the far end of the field. Without slowing her speed for an instant, she ran across a wide pasture toward the woods that grew along the creek bottom.
As soon as she reached the creek she leaned against a tree, gasping for breath. Spying a fallen log, she sat down on it. Her face was hot and sweaty; her head was spinning. She closed her eyes and rested ten minutes before she again had the strength to stand up.
Her movements were automatic now. Without consciously thinking, she waded across the creek at a shallow place where her feet sank into the soft mud. One of her shoes stuck and came off. She stopped to put it on.
Phil was the one she should got to for protection, but she did not know how to reach him. If she could get to a phone, she might be able to locate him by calling the creamery station. But there were so few phones out in this poor, sparse section of the county.
On the other side of the creek she continued to run, first across a plowed field, then through another field of corn. Without being fully aware of it, she had been running home, toward her mother's farm. At least she might find temporary safety there, until she could reach Phil.
Hiding in a thicket, she looked up and down the road. When she was certain Luke was not in sight, she ran the last quarter of a mile up the road and into the yard.
She got as far as the well, where she collapsed. Leaning against the pump she closed her eyes and panted until her breathing slowly returned to normal. She could hear her mother and the kids inside, talking to each other, but she still did not have the strength to call to them.
With a sudden skidding of tires, a truck pulled into the drive and slid to a stop. Laura opened her eyes, saw Luke stalking toward her. When he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up, she could hardly stand.
"Git home," he muttered.
He scowled while his eyes grew bright with anger. His mouth was cruel and twisted. Squeezing her arm in his powerful fingers, he dragged her toward the truck. She didn't even look back to see if her mother was aware of what was happening.
But even if her mother had seen, she would not realize how much danger she was in. Her mother knew that Luke beat her, and she would assume that it would happen again. But what could her mother do? What could anybody do?
Laura began to cry. As Luke started the truck and swung around in the yard, she caught a glimpse of her mother's frightened face, and she knew that her mother would do nothing, would make no complaint because of her fear of losing the farm.
So Luke could kill her if he decided to, and nobody would know until too late. She shuddered at the thought of it, and then she gave up all at once, resigning herself to her fate. She had tried to escape and had failed. She no longer had the will or the power to try again.
Luke led her into the kitchen and pushed her into a chair. Then for several minutes he stood above her, staring without a word. Laura had seen him angry before, but there was something strange about him now, a strange vacant look about his eyes which were shiny with an inner emotion.
His lips twisted in a smile, sending a sharp terror through her. Slowly he drew back his hand, still smiling. He was going to experience pleasure in beating her.
When he jumped at her suddenly, she screamed. Then the blow landed like a club against the side of her jaw. She had tried to raise her arms, but too late. Luke's big hand clawed at her hair, held her in a firm grip while, with the other hand, he slapped her repeatedly.
She screamed, pleading with him to stop, but he continued to hit her, with the fury of a maddened beast. Her face became numb, her head seemed to swell until it was ready to burst. Then darkness closed over her, and she felt her whole body go limp, slide to the floor.
She must have lain on the floor nearly a quarter of an hour before consciousness slowly returned. When she opened her eyes, she saw Luke standing over her, panting and moaning like a wounded animal.
His eyes had the same shiny look. She touched her face, which throbbed yet which felt strangely numb.
Her throat was raw from screaming; her eyes burned with tears.
"Never run away-" Luke muttered in a horse, mad-sounding voice. "I don't want you to run away-you understand? Not run away. Never. I'll kill you. You'll see."
Laura was more terrified than ever, for she realized that he must actually be insane. No person in his right mind could be so cruel. She was convinced that he had killed his first wife, that he would kill her too. He would kill her when he took the notion, any time he wished to. And there was no way of telling what might finally set him off in a murderous rage.
Laura tried to move, but the effort was too painful. She felt as if she already were half dead. Her arms, her legs, her back ached so miserably that she couldn't move them. It was less painful to remain lying on the floor.
"Git up," Luke said.
Laura closed her eyes again, hoping he would think that she had only stirred. If he knew she were conscious, he might start beating her once more. She wanted to cry, but she was beyond crying. She was, in fact, still dazed, though she was keenly aware of his presence. She could hear him breathing in long, deep gasps. Now and then, he gave a low sigh.
"Git up, woman," Luke said, again. His voice was almost gentle. "I know you're shamming. You can't fool me one bit. Now git on up from the floor. You ain't hurt.
Laura shook her head.
"I can't-"
"You can, too."
He didn't say it harshly. For a moment Laura thought he might even reach down to help her stand. With her eyes closed she continued to lie where she was, though the floor was hard against her back. Then she heard Luke move to a chair and begin to cry like a child.
The sound of his sobs sent chills through her, for he cried so pathetically. Yet she felt no pity for him. She was past any feeling for Luke but pure hatred. She hated him with a white-hot fury.
As she lay quietly on the floor she began to plan. Luke did not know that she suspected anything yet. He did not know she had been up to the attic, though when he did discover it, he probably would kill her.
If she could survive until morning, then she could tell Phil and he would know what to do. Perhaps they would go to the police and ask them to dig behind the barn, where she was certain they would find a grave. If it were true that his first wife was buried there, then she would be free of him.
Then she remembered the sad girl in the photograph album and she hoped they would not find her body. She wanted the girl to be alive and far away, free from Luke, from his madness.
After a while Luke got up from the chair and walked into the bedroom. Laura could hear him moving about, but she kept her eyes closed. Then he returned to the kitchen and lifted her from the floor. She choked with fear as he carried her into the bedroom.
Lying her on the bed, he stretched out her arms and legs. Then he began tying each arm and leg to a corner post of the bed. Laura was too weak, too terrified to resist. When Luke had tied her securely, he lay down on the floor beside the bed. In a few minutes, he was snoring loudly. Night fell, but still she lay awake for hours before she fiinally dozed off in a sleep that was filled with screaming horrors.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sam Billingsly sat in the car staring up at the huge movie screen while the little squawking box that hung in the window piped in the sound of voices and of background music. But he was not watching the movie with any interest at all. In fact, he would not have been able to say what the story was about.
His main interest was concentrated on the lovely young woman who was seated beside him, so close that now and then her leg brushed against his.
Each contact, though ever so slight, sent a chill of excitement through him and stirred up vague, yet burning desires in his loins. It had been so long since he had even kissed a woman, let alone gone to bed with one.
Now he was with the most lovely woman he ever had known, sitting beside her, feeling her presence. It mattered not a bit that she was afflicted with a handicap. This made her even more desirable in his eyes, because it gave him a feeling of kinship he seldom had experienced with anyone else.
Very cautiously he would turn his head now and then to steal a quick look at her, and each time he was almost overwhelmed by her pale, dark beauty. If he had dreamed up an ideal woman for himself, she would have been very much like Dorothy. She was tall, yet by no means thin. Her body, as much as he could tell, was lushly feminine. He was certain that her legs were long and finely tapered, that her hips were full and sturdy, that her breasts were abundant without being too large for the rest of her body.
He liked the expression in her dark eyes, the shape of her lips which looked warm and soft and kissable. Most of all, he liked her buoyant good spirits. She was not the kind of a woman who felt sorry for herself. She was glad to be alive, and he hoped that she was glad to be sitting there beside him as he was to be with her.
Most of the afternoon, they had sat on the porch and had communicated with more ease than he had imagined would have been possible. They had dined at The Sirloin, which was the best restaurant in town. Then they had discussed what they might do this evening. She had made him understand that she could enjoy movies because of her ability to read lips. And he had welcomed the opportunity to sit alone with her like this. He had parked near the back purposely so they would not be annoyed by people walking by to the concession stand.
Never could he remember having spent such wonderful afternoon and evening. And the evening was not over yet. He had visions of kissing her tenderly, though he was determined to approach her very slowly. He did not want to make her angry, for he hoped their relationship would last for a long time, maybe even forever. Who knows? He smiled in the dark.
Turning slightly, he watched her face which was faintly lit by the reflected light of the screen. She had a beautiful profile. He was breathless as he watched the flicker of her eyelashes and studied the tracery of her lips.
"Are you having a good time, Dorothy?" he asked, suddenly, surprised at the tremor in his voice.
Her head jerked around, her eyes widened in surprise, for he had startled her out of a leverie. There was a question in her glance. She was aware that he had spoken, but she didn't know what he had said.
"Are you happy?"
Her smile was beautiful. She did not need words to express how she felt, it showed plainly on her face.
With sudden boldness he reached across with his good arm and took hold of her hand. She did not hesitate for a moment, but let him take her hand. Her fingers tightened slightly. He wanted to kiss her then.
But he made no move, merely stared into her eyes. Her head moved closer, slowly. When he still made no move, a frown crossed her face. Her brown eyes were solemn.
Sam took a deep breath then gently pulled her against him. To his amazement she put her lips close to his and waited expectantly, with her eyes closed. At the first contact he felt a warm pleasant sensation as if his whole body were melting. Her lips trembled, then boldly kissed him while her tongue slipped into his mouth.
For just an instant, Sam was shocked. Then he felt the firm pressure of her arms as she clung to his neck, felt her body tremble as she surrendered herself to him without a trace of shame or a hint that it was wrong in any way. And if they needed each other-how could it be wrong?
For the next half hour, they both were oblivious of the world around them. There was no reality except the two of them sitting together in the car, holding each other in a prolonged embrace, discovering each other.
Sam felt the soft contact of her breasts which pressed firmly against his ribs. His blood grew hot and-his pulse raced from the nearness of her, from the scent of the perfume she wore. She stroked his face, nibbled his mouth with her lips, nuzzled her face against his neck.
When they broke apart at last, her eyes were bright and she was smiling happily. Boldly she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair. Then pointing to herself and to him, she nodded.
Her meaning was unmistakable. She liked him very much and she simply wanted him to know that she was his woman to do with as he pleased.
"Do you mean it, Dorothy?" he asked, softly.
She nodded again.
"Shall we go to my house-now?"
The answer, reflected in her eyes, was a definite yes. She slid close to him and laid her hand boldly in his lap while he replaced the speaker on the post and drove along the winding car path to the highway.
When he parked in front of his house, he noticed old Mrs. Stone sitting next door on her porch. No doubt she had been sitting there for hours, determined not to move until he returned home and she could see if he still had Dorothy with him.
If they went into his house together at night, the gossip would be all over the neighborhood within minutes. But for some reason he didn't care in the least. Dorothy was his girl now, most likely his future wife, and they would do whatever pleased them. To hell with the rest of the world. Together, they could face anything.
Holding her gently by the arm, he led her up the sidewalk and through the door. As naturally as if they had been lovers for years, they walked directly to the bedroom.
Dorothy moved against him, placed her arms around his neck, and looked up at him with her lovely brown eyes. In a kind of silent wonder they stared at each other for nearly a minute before they kissed.
Sam had no doubt at all now that they would spend the night together, but still he wanted to go slowly for fear he might frighten her or make her uneasy.
Still she was no novice, for she had been married once. She was a full-blown woman with a woman's knowledge and desires. In fact he felt a little inadequate, for he was certain that her experience was more extensive than his.
Noticing that he hesitated, she suddenly took the lead by turning her back to him and pointing to the zipper that ran the length of her dress. Confidently, she smiled over her shoulder at him.
Sam's hand shook as he caught hold of the zipper and pulled slowly downward. He felt a twisting of excitement in his guts as the creamy smooth skin of her back was exposed when the dress fell away.
With a whispering of cloth the dress slid downward until it lay in a circle at her feet. He gasped at the incredible beauty of her majestic body. Her waist was narrow, her hips flared, her legs were firm and shapely.
She still wore panties and bra, but he longed to remove them from her at once. The hooks of her bra looked as though they would be difficult to unfasten with only one hand, but he was determined to do it, somehow.
As he reached out, she stepped away. Turning around, she stood before him without a trace of embarrassment in her bra and panties, demanding with her eyes that he examine her. She was proud of her flawless body, and she wanted to share the beauty of it with him.
Raising her arms above her head and bending one knee, she posed for him. A slight movement of her hips caused her breasts to jiggle inside the bra.
Sam stood almost open-mouthed, unable to speak. Never had he felt such excitement in the presence of a woman.
With kittenish playfulness, Dorothy pursed her lips. Her eyes dimmed behind her half-closed lids. She caught the bottom of her long black hair and lifted, then let it fall in a cascade about her neck and shoulders.
When Sam stepped up to her she loosened his tie, then with deft fingers, unbuttoned his shirt. He shrugged off his coat and tossed it away while she continued to remove his clothes. He trembled at the touch of her fingers, at the intimate caress of her hands.
She did not stop until he was completely undressed, then she looked at him with unmistakable pleasure. She had been taking the lead from the start, but Sam was so entranced that he could only follow, permitting her to do as she wished. He waited expectantly for her next move.
Throwing back her head she gave a soundless laugh, then she reached behind her back and unhooked the bra.
Sam caught his breath as it fell away, revealing the high, proud mounds of her breasts. They were ripe and heavy, protruding like two small lovely melons tipped with two circlets of a dark pinking-brown color.
As he gazed, immobile with wonder, Dorothy caught hold of the elastic band of her panties and slid them slowly across her thighs, down her legs.
Then she was naked before him and she was beautiful-every inch, every curve and line of her body was beautiful. There was warm beauty in her serious brown eyes and in the tempting swell of her lips. Most of all there was breathtaking beauty in her firm, shimmering breasts, in the flat curve of her belly, the fascination of her thighs.
Sam's breathing quickened as he moved up and caught her by the waist, holding her captive with his arm while he touched his mouth to hers.
Catching him by the neck, twisting her head, she smeared her lips teasingly while her tongue thrust with sudden, stabbing darts into his mouth.
Upon his chest, the twin quivering mounds trembled softly, feverishly. She arched her back and turned her body from side to side in order to increase the contact of her breasts. It seemed that he could even feel the hard little prod of her long nipples.
Sensing a desperation in her, he laid her gently back upon the bed. His need was like a raging fire, for it had been far too long since he had made love to a woman.
Clinging to him, she fell back heavily, wrapping her legs around him in a fiery embrace. Her hands moved eagerly across, his back, then as the momentum of their bodies increased her nails began to dig painfully.
She rolled her eyes up in a delirium of sensuality, opened her mouth to cry. But the only sound was the heavy panting of her breath, nothing more. He took her fiercely, hungrily, knowing by her response that she wanted to be taken that way. Their mouths caught in a final desperate kiss as they tensed together and their bodies plunged and churned in the ultimate spasms of completion.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The sun streaming through the window awakened Laura Brewer the next morning. Her head throbbed and her whole body ached from the beating Luke had given her the night before. Her wrists and ankles were numb from the ropes that bound her.
Straining to get free, she only made herself tired from the effort. She couldn't budge, for Luke had tied the knots securely. Though when she stopped struggling there was enough slack in her bonds to permit some circulation.
Laura raised her head from the pillow and saw Luke still asleep on the floor but stirring nervously.
She dropped her head again, and after resting for a minute, tried once more to break free. Her wrists were raw, the pain was too much. She gave it up and lay staring at the ceiling while pins and needles prickled all over her body.
Finally Luke sat up. He yawned and blinked his little eyes, trying to clear the sleep from them. Laura held her breath in fear, wondering what he planned to do with her next.
Without a word, he walked out of the room. He was gone ten minutes and when he returned he stood beside the bed staring down at her with the same cruel, vacant smile on his lips. He had not shaved for two days, and his beard was heavy.
"Please untie me, Luke," she begged.
"Don't you like to sleep that way?"
He threw his head back and laughed loudly, so loud in fact that he choked and ended up in a fit of coughing. Still looking down at her, he rubbed his beard, then unconsciously began scratching himself all over. He was so dirty that, even from that distance, Laura could smell him and it made her sick at her stomach.
"Please, Luke," she said weakly. "The rope is hurting my ankles."
"You don't say-"
Luke continued to grin. Then going to the foot of the bed he began to untie the ropes that held her ankles. Laura gave a sigh of relief, for he was going to let her up at last. She wondered if she would be able to walk. She ached so much that it even pained her to breathe.
Luke untied her ankles and threw the rope on the floor, but he made no move to loosen her wrists.
"Please, Luke," she pleaded. "Let me up."
"I like you that way," he said with a sneer. "You look real good laid out there on the bed. Kind of gives me an idea-"
Laura went suddenly cold at the thought of what Luke might be planning to do with her. Pushing upward with her unbound feet, she tried to twist out of the ropes that held her hands.
Luke laughed.
"You ain't gonna get loose that way."
In a moment, Laura stopped her struggling. She was panting from the effort. Her throat was raw and burning. Her mouth was as dry as if it had been wiped with cotton.
"Could I have some water, Luke? Please. I've got to have a drink of water."
"Sure, gal. Anything you want-" Luke walked into the kitchen and came back in a minute carrying a glass of water. Laura raised her head while he held the glass near her lips, an inch away. She strained but could not reach it.
Luke burst into a roar of laughter, shaking so much that some of the water dropped onto her chin. She was able to gather a few drops with her tongue, but it only tormented her more. "Please, Luke-"
"Sure, gal. I'll give you water." His face suddenly went tense as he splashed the contents of the glass in her face. Laura felt the water pouring down her neck, between her breasts, and for a moment she was wracked with hysterical sobs. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"Just having a little fun, gal," Luke said with his hard, cutting smile. "And I'm aiming to have me a little more fun while I'm at it. Like I said-seeing you spread-eagled there on the bed gives me ideas."
While Laura watched in horror, Luke began to strip off his clothes. Then when he was stark naked he stepped onto the bed and stood above her like a grinning giant. All at once Laura lost control and screamed.
"Holler all you want, gal," Luke said. "That's the way I like to hear you. Makes it that much more fun. I'm gonna make you holler bloody murder."
Laura pulled desperately at the ropes that held her wrists, hardly noticing the pain. Her heart was pounding. She could taste the fear in her mouth.
Suddenly Luke dropped to his knees, straddling her legs, and caught hold of her dress at the neck. With a fierce backward lunge he pulled, splitting the dress down the middle, laying bare her breasts and her thighs.
Laura screamed and tossed her head.
"That's it," Luke muttered. "Yell for your life."
Doubling her knees, she kicked up at him, caught him oft guard for an instant. A large red welt formed on his bare chest where her heel had struck. But Luke only laughed and caught her ankles, shoved her legs down upon the bed.
Then he was sprawling on top of her, crushing her with the weight of his big body. He slapped her breasts, caught them in his hands and pinched them until she sobbed from the pain. His laughter was manic, the laughter of a crazy man.
Laura lay helpless and limp, pinned beneath him. With a sudden ferocity he took her, driving against her with his thrashing body, flailing wildly.
Laura was almost insane with fear as she twisted and kicked, trying to break away from him, trying to free herself from the stabbing pain.
Her resistance began to go. She fell back limp, resigned, willing to accept his cruelty, so it would be over that much sooner.
"Damn it, woman-move," Luke shouted.
She wailed and shook her head.
"You'd better make it good, damn you-or I'll kill you. I swear to it, gal. I'll kill you."
In frozen terror Laura realized that he meant every word of his threat. Desperately she tried to move her body, to respond to his violent attack. Ignoring the pain, she raised her legs and tightened them around his waist.
"That's more like it," he said with a jolting laugh. Hot breath hissed through his clenched teeth, touching her face. "Yeah, that's more like it."
Luke had his hands against her shoulders now, holding her prisoner on the mattress while he flung himself at her with increasing fury.
Unable to hold it in, Laura screamed once more.
"Stop, Luke! The pain. I can't stand any more. Please stop-"
Her words not only made Luke laugh, but seemed to spur him on to increased madness. He began to make inward, gurgling sounds deep in his throat. His eyes seemed glazed as they turned upward in his head.
Then she felt his body shake with shattering tremors as his enjoyment of her reached the climax. With a loud bellow he fell heavily upon her prostrate body and lay gasping hoarsely while his breath slowly returned.
She lay without moving for nearly five minutes, wishing that she could black out and be released from her pain. At last Luke pulled away from her and rolled off the bed.
He put his clothes on without a word, then untied the knots that held her wrists to the bedposts. She rubbed her arms, which began to tingle as the circulation once more started through them. She was able to sit up at last, but the effort drained her of all her strength.
"Now, gal," Luke muttered, "go fix me some breakfast, and be quick about it."
Numbly she climbed to her feet and was surprised to find that she could stand after all. She took her dress and slippers, walked through the kitchen to the back yard.
Luke had left her feeling dirty, and before she did anything else, she had to wash the smell of him off of her. She pumped a bucket of water and splashed it over her head. The icy chill revived her. She rinsed off with several more buckets of water, put on her clothes and went into the kitchen.
As she moved around preparing breakfast, life once more returned to her limbs. Lighting the stove, she glanced up at the clock. Phil would be there in an hour, and she wanted to have Luke fed and out of the house by then.
While she peeled potatoes and sliced them into the skillet, Luke went out to the barn to milk the cows. He had slept later than usual, then taken more time to have his way with her, so he would have to hurry to get the cream ready in time for the truck to pick it up.
When Luke returned from the barn, Laura laid his plate before him on the table. He was eating when Phil drove up in the drive. Laura pushed through the door and ran out to meet him, no longer caring what Luke might do to her.
She was even prepared to drive off with Phil, if there was an opportunity. But Luke was suspicious of her now, and he had left the table to come out onto the porch. He stood glaring at her while she went up to Phil.
"What's happened to you, Laura?" Phil asked in amazement, looking at her battered face.
"Phil, I'm so glad you've come."
She began to cry, unable to control the tears. Phil laid his hand on her arm and gave her a gentle squeeze. She almost rushed into his arms, despite the fact that Luke was watching.
"What's he done to you?" Phil demanded, angrily. "Did he beat you?"
"Yes," she whispered, casting a fearful glance toward Luke. "He's watching."
"The dirty scum-" Phil said, seething with anger.
"Listen, Phil," she said quickly. "We've got to be careful. He's liable to do anything. I don't want you to get hurt."
"I'd like to club him," muttered Phil, fiercely. "When did he beat you? Why?"
"Last night when I tried to run away."
"You should have waited for me. I could have helped you. You need help to get away from him."
"Listen-" Laura took hold of Phil's hand. "He's been acting strange. I found something in the attic yesterday. I can't explain now-but I think he killed his first wife."
"Then you can't stay here another minute," Phil said. "I won't let you-"
"I can't go with you now, not while he's watching," she replied. "Just go get help."
"No, Laura." Phil shook his head with determination. "I won't leave you alone with him. I can't." He darted a quick glance at Luke, who still was standing on the porch, watching them intently. "Get in the truck, quickly. I'll drive you away from here."
"Not now, Phil," she said, beginning to quake with fear. "He would catch us before we got away. He'll kill us, I know. He has a rifle on the back porch."
"We'll make a run for it."
"He'd shoot us before we could get away."
"I can't leave you, Laura," Phil insisted. "He might go out of his head. There's no telling what he might do."
"Please, Phil-" she pleaded. "Do it my way. I can't talk any longer."
Before Phil had time to reply, she walked to the creamery house, removed the cloth strainers and put the lids on the cans. Phil could have done it easily, but it gave her an excuse for being there. Glancing quickly toward the house, she saw that Luke still was standing immobile on the porch. The automatic rifle hung on the wall within easy reach of his hand.
Phil lifted the heavy cans and shoved them into the truck, then he pulled out two empties. He worked without a glance at her, but when he closed the doors of the truck, he whispered, "I'll be back with help."
Laura walked back to the house without replying, though she was afraid Luke already suspected what they had been talking about. The moment Phil drove out of the yard, she was left with a feeling of emptiness and fear.
Luke was still rooted to the place where he had been standing, his feet planted wide apart, his hands rubbing slowly up and down his flanks. His mouth was grim, his eyes were hard with anger.
Laura was sure she never would see Phil again, for she feared the worst from Luke. Now she was sorry she had not done as Phil had wanted, tried to make a break for it in the truck.
She stopped suddenly and froze as Luke stepped off the porch and began stalking toward her. A chilling shudder went through her body, a fear such as she never had known before. She stood helplessly, too frightened to run.
Luke caught her by the arm and squeezed with his powerful hand. She gave a cry of pain.
"What did you say to him? Tell me-" Luke demanded in a low, rumbling voice.
"Nothing-"
"I seen you talking."
"Honest, Luke. I didn't say a thing-only what a pretty day it was."
"You said more than that."
"Well-I told him I was sorry we didn't have the cans ready. Because you were late milking this morning."
"What else did you say?" Luke muttered.
"That's all-honestly."
"Don't try to fool me, gal. I ain't so dumb I don't know what's going on behind my back."
"It isn't true-"
"You've been seeing him-ain't you?" Luke hissed through his teeth. "Talk!"
Laura was so frightened by his accusations that she could only shake her head. Luke suspected the truth, and if she tried to speak she would only give herself away. He would know then that she and Phil were lovers.
Luke slapped her hard across the face, a stinging blow that twisted her head to the side, painfully. Her legs became rubbery. Almost senseless, she reeled and fell backwards, taking two steps before she struck the ground.
"It's true, ain't it?" Luke shouted, furiously.
Laura cried and shook her head. She could hardly see him standing above her, through the tears. Leaning down, Luke pulled her to her feet again.
"Git in the barn."
His shove sent her stumbling across the yard. She was sobbing uncontrollably, too weak to try to run from him. Now she knew she should have hidden in the woods yesterday when she ran away, instead of going straight home where he would be sure to find her.
And she should have gone off with Phil as he had insisted. Everything she had done was wrong, and now Luke was going to kill her. She knew it by his manner, by the cold hardness of his fury.
Swinging the barn door open, Luke shoved her through, into the dark interior. A rat scurried in the dry hay beneath her feet. She tried to scream but she had lost her voice. Luke stopped her in front of the horse stall.
Laura swallowed. Her body was trembling all over as if she had a fever. She was panting with fear, inhaling deeply, choking on the dust that was in the air.
"What are you going to do to me?" she asked, weakly.
Luke stared down at her for a minute before he spoke. He seemed to be chewing the words over in his mouth, preparing to spit them out at her.
"Did you tell him where the grave is?"
Luke's question startled her so much that she stood looking into his fierce eyes, unable to speak. His face dimmed before her, seemed to fade away into darkness.
"Well-did you?" he demanded. Catching her arm, he twisted it again. "Did you?"
"No-no," she screamed. "I don't know where-"
The breath stopped in her throat as she realized too late she had made a mistake. Luke's mouth spread in a grim smile. He gave a short, guttural laugh.
"So I was right. You do know about her. How did you find out? Were you up in the attic?"
Laura could only shake her head, but Luke read the answer that was written on her face.
"Yes, I killed her," he said in a toneless voice. "She tried to run away, just like you. I didn't mean to kill her. It was an accident. But after it was done, I had to bury her and tell everybody she ran away. Now you've found out-so I'll have to kill you, too."
"No!"
She tried to duck under his arm, but he caught her and held her against his chest. Reaching up, he took a large horseshoe from a nail on a post. For a moment he looked at the horseshoe, and then he smiled at her.
"This gives me an idea. Remember the way Molly Forbes died? That's just the way you'll be found in the stall. Dead. Because the horses went wild and kicked you to death."
Laura went limp and felt her body sliding to the floor of the barn. She lay sobbing with her eyes closed, powerless to move. She choked, struggling to breathe, and waited....
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
When Phil wheeled the big creamery truck out of the drive he looked back to watch Laura walking dismally toward the house where her husband waited. If it were true that Luke Brewer had murdered his first wife, then Laura also was in danger of being killed. For she said Luke had been acting strangely.
Phil drove recklessly along the gravel country road and wheeled into the yard of the first farmhouse he came to, though it was not a dairy farm and was not one of the regular stops on his route.
A man, who had been working under the raised hood of a car, stood up and looked at Phil, curiously.
"May I use your telephone?" Phil asked, breathlessly.
"Sorry, fella. We ain't got a phone."
"Can you tell me who does?"
"Well-" The man slid his fingers beneath his straw hat and scratched his scalp. "Seems to me the Martins has. But I couldn't be sure."
"Where is the Martin's farm?"
"Third place down," the man said, pointing. "Big yellow house on the right."
"Thanks-"
Phil already was in the truck cab. He shoved the gears into reverse, backed around and slammed the door at the same time. Then, once more, he was rolling down the road, raising a cloud of dust. The truck swung heavily from side to side, threatened to slide off into the ditch.
The Martin farm was two miles away. He shoved on the brakes at the very last moment, then wheeled into the drive that led up to the yellow house. The roar of his truck brought a fat, middleaged woman onto the porch.
Phil jumed down from the cab. "Do you have a phone?"
"Well-yes," the woman said, in a slow, drawling voice. "But it ain't working because a limb fell across the line and busted it-that last storm we had. The company ain't been out to fix it yet."
Phil cursed and ran back to the truck. This time he turned and drove in the direction of the Brewer farm. Finding a phone was more difficult than he had imagined. And there was no time now to go all the way to town for the sheriff. It was even possible that the sheriff would be skeptical about such a story and refuse to drive out to the farm.
So he had to go back and protect Laura at once. There was no telling what Luke might do to her if he thought she suspected that he had killed his first wife.
A quarter of a mile from the Brewer farm he slammed the big truck to a stop and jumped out to run the rest of the way. He did not want Luke to be warned of his presence.
He was winded by the time he reached the farm. He approached the house from the front, keeping hidden as well as possible behind the trees and bushes. Slipping onto the front porch, he listened at the door, which was open.
No sound came from inside the house.
Phil eased the screen open and slipped into the living room. He paused to listen once more, then walked carefully toward the kitchen. It was empty. He looked through the bedroom door. Nobody was around.
The flesh began to crawl at the back of his neck. If Luke had harmed her-he swore he would kill him with his bare hands. Where were they? And why was there no sound? Somewhere in the house a door banged, blown shut by the wind.
He stepped onto the back porch, held his breath and listened for a long time. Then he heard a sound coming from the barn, a shrill cry. Laura's voice.
Instinctively he reached up and took the automatic rifle from the porch wall. His knees buckled for an instant from the impact when he jumped off the porch on the run. He maintained his balance, running toward the barn.
The door was ajar. Phil burst through and stared into the dimness. Laura lay sobbing on the barn floor, Luke stood above her with a horseshoe raised in his hand.
"Drop it, Luke!" Phil shouted.
Luke turned, with a startled gasp. Then his mouth thinned as he stared at Phil, continuing to hold the horseshoe. His eyes were glazed with a fever of madness. Phil realized that the man was completely insane.
"I said drop it-" Phil held the rifle aimed at Luke's massive chest. "Get away from her." Luke gave a low, animal laugh. "You wouldn't shoot-"
"It would be a pleasure," Phil replied, grimly. Then he glanced at Laura, who had slid away into the corner, as far as she could get from Luke. "Come here, Laura."
She crawled, then climbed to her feet, stumbling across to him. Standing behind Phil's back, she clutched his arm while her body shook with sobs.
"He was going to kill me."
"I know-" Phil kept his eyes on Luke, who hadn't moved an inch. "I was afraid he might try. I couldn't get to a phone, so I came back. The gun was on the porch. I couldn't leave you alone with him, Laura."
With a low growl, Luke took a step toward them.
"Stay where you are," Phil shouted.
"She's my wife," Luke replied fiercely. "I'll get you both for this. I'll get you-"
"Take one more step and I'll kill you," Phil threatened.
"You ain't got the guts-"
"I'm just aching to shoot you," Phil muttered, angrily. "After the way you beat Laura." Luke laughed, baring his teeth. "That gun ain't even loaded."
All at once Luke rushed, ducking his head low, flailing out with the horseshoe he was holding. Automatically, Phil lowered the rifle and squeezed the trigger. It kicked in his hand with a loud, echoing explosion. Luke jerked upright, wheeled around, and fell to the floor.
Backing up, Phil kept him covered. Whimpering, Luke held his shoulder, which already was sticky with blood. Phil glanced at Laura, who was standing close beside him.
"Drive into town and get the sheriff. I'll hold Luke here until you return."
"I'm afraid for you," she said, weakly. "You don't know how vicious he can be."
"I'll be all right. Just do as I say."
"All right," Laura replied. She tightened her fingers on his arm. "Be careful, darling. I'll hurry as fast as I can."
Phil stood with his back to the door, watching Luke, who lay on the floor moaning in pain. The fight had been taken out of him. He would not try another rush.
The truck motor started with a roar. He heard the spinning of wheels in gravel as Laura drove recklessly out of the yard. For nearly an hour he waited, not relaxing his guard over Luke for an instant. Even though he needed a cigarette to settle his nerves, he didn't take the chance of lighting one.
At last a car wheeled into the yard, sliding to a stop near the barn. Then two more cars drove in. Two uniformed men rushed through the door, their revolvers drawn. One of the men was Sheriff Grady.
"There he is, Sheriff," Phil said, lowering the rifle at last.
"He confessed to killing his first wife," the sheriff said. "All right, Luke. On your feet."
Luke refused to stand. He remained lying on the floor, holding his wounded arm, growling and snapping like a cornered animal. The sheriff gave an amazed whistle and shook his head.
"I think he's gone completely loony."
Laura ran through the barn door and threw her arms around Phil's neck. Crying, she kissed him on the mouth, ignoring the sheriff and his deputies.
"You're safe," she murmured. "I was so afraid."
Three of the deputies struggled with Luke before they could fasten the handcuffs on him. Then they led him outside and made him sit on the ground.
"Show us where you think the grave is, Mrs. Brewer," the sheriff said. "We'll start digging."
"It must be behind the barn."
One of the deputies stayed to guard Luke while the rest of them followed Laura. Two deputies started digging where she pointed.
The hole was three feet deep when one of the shovels hit something hard. Quickly the two men dug until a leg was uncovered, the decomposed leg of a girl.
Laura caught her breath and turned away, sobbing. Phil led her to the house, supporting her with his arm around her waist. Taking her to the bedroom, he laid her on the bed, adjusting the pillow under her head. As soon as she was asleep, he drove the big truck into town and arranged for a doctor to visit her and to treat her wounds from the beating Luke had given her.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Phil was two hours late finishing his milk route, but when he explained the reason to his boss, there were no complaints. After he had unloaded his truck, he drove home in his jalopy, showered, and changed his clothes. Then he drove back out to the farm to see Laura.
She still was sleeping in the bed, though her lashes fluttered when he came into the room. Slowly, she awakened. For an instant she caught her breath in fright when she saw him standing over her, then she smiled.
"I didn't recognize you darling," she whispered. "For just a moment I thought that maybe Luke-"
"He's safely locked up in the county jail," Phil assured her. "The sheriff says he'll have a sanity hearing. He'll either go to an asylum for the criminally insane or stand trial for murder. Either way, you're rid of him forever."
"Yes," Laura sighed. "But that poor girl. She'd been buried out there for years."
"Don't think about it," Phil said, soothingly. He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. "How do you feel now?"
"Wonderful-" She heaved a sigh of relief. "The doctor gave me something to make me sleep. I feel rested now. Most of the soreness is gone where Luke hit me."
"Laura-" He leaned over her and touched his lips to her cheek. "There'll be no problem now with a divorce. You're free of him at last."
"I know. I can hardly believe it."
"So-" he said, hesitantly. "When the divorce is final, we can be married."
Laura gave a little whimper and reached up. Pulling with her arms around his neck, she drew his face down to hers. The kiss went on for a long time. Never had her mouth been so soft and sweet-scented.
At last she said. "How long will it be-to get the divorce, I mean?"
"It might be weeks, even months."
"That's so long," she whispered. "We aren't going to wait, are we, darling?"
"No," he murmured, kissing her.
Laura clung tightly to his neck while she started a slow, rolling motion of her hips. The kiss became hard and passionate, their tongues touching, mingling. With a soft gasp, she squirmed and rubbed her breasts on his chest.
His hands moved downward, started to explore. He was surprised to find that she was naked under the thin sheet that covered her.
"Do you like what you feel?" she asked, with an intimate smile.
"I love everything about you."
"I'm glad, darling. I want to please you in every way. Starting now."
Reaching up, she took hold of the top of the sheet and pulled slowly. As the sheet slid down her nude body, exposing all her loveliness, Phil felt a tight, choking sensation in his chest.
His blood pressure rose, causing a pulse to throb in his head. His legs trembled, his face grew flushed with the desire she was kindling in him.
He never tired of looking at the marvel of her body. He loved the fine tapering of her legs, the flare of her hips, the hour-glass shape of her waist. Her breasts thrust upward, tempting him. They were twin shivering globes of warm female flesh, crested with little circles of delicate pink.
Her hair lay in attractive curls above her face, golden as sunshine. Her eyes, blue and tender, watched him as he cupped one breast and began to massage gently. Her eyelids fluttered, her teeth sank into her lower lip.
"I love that, darling," she murmured.
The moment he bent to kiss the breast he was holding, the breath seemed to stop in his throat. He squeezed the breast, molding it with his hand, watching it quiver in thrusting splendor before his eyes.
He felt her body begin to tremble beneath his teasing lips. Slowly her passion ascended until she was shaking all over and her hips were thrusting with quick, spasmodic movements.
Holding his face in her hands, she smeared her mouth on his, stabbing with the hot little point of her tongue. Her eyes were glazed with ecstasy.
"Now, darling," she begged.
Impulsively they moved together, catching the spark of their urgency and fanning it into a roaring flame. The embrace was frenzied, their bodes ground together hot and plunging. A series of soft little moans came from the depths of her throat. They were alone and together, unashamed in their need for each other, gasping from the delirium of the emotion they felt. It was only the beginning, Phil knew. Only the beginning of a long, wonderful life together.
