Joyce felt herself go weak, as a sudden flood of overpowering lust flashed through her. "Oh, God!" she moaned, as their hot lips parted and he kissed her neck and throat. "Yes, hurry!"
Suddenly she wanted to be quickly taken-all but raped! The idea of his brute strength surging through her made her tremble in an agony of excitement and desire....
Dedicated to MY WIFE
"It's the only place in Davidson City where you can have any fun-and I mean real fun, from booze to sex!"
CHAPTER ONE
Joyce Hoffman was unpacking her clothing when she first met her roommate, Deanna Brown. She had just arrived at Davidson College a few hours before, and was both excited and a little frightened, for this was her first time away from home and the protection of her family and life-time friends.
She was idly wondering what the next days would hold for her, and how she would get along with the girl whom she was going to share a room with for the coming semester when Deanna came up to the open door and looked in at her. At first Joyce wasn't aware of the other girl; it was the sight of cigarette smoke which attracted her attention.
She turned, startled. The girl standing there was dressed in a tight blue sweater and formfitting skirt. Her figure was trim and had a high-fashion look about it.
"I didn't know you were there!" Joyce cried in a high voice.
For a moment Deanna just stared at her, not saying anything. The expression on the older girl's face was that of an intelligent mind carefully analyzing. After taking a deep drag of her cigarette and letting the smoke drift slowly out of her half parted, sensually full lips, she asked. "You're Joyce Hoffman?"
"Yes"
"Well, I'm your roommate, Deanna Brown-we'll be seeing a lot of each other." The girl stepped forward and extended her hand. She smiled brightly and there was a sparkling warmth in her eyes. "I hope you'll like it here!"
Joyce felt herself relaxing in relief. "Glad to meet you. I was wondering what you'd be like. Now that I know, I think I'll be-"
"Slow down honey-there's plenty of time to talk things over. Here, let me help you get things organized."
"Oh, that's not necessary!"
"Don't be silly. If we have to live together, we might as well get used to helping each other."
Deanna quickly began firing questions at Joyce. "Where you're from-do you have a boy friend back home, and what you do for kicks?"
There was a strange quality of intense interest in the last part of her question, as if it had some inner meaning; as if she were trying to find out something about Joyce which had little to do with her social life of the past.
"I come from Malesport, a small Eastern town of a little over a thousand people. Everybody seems to know everybody else, and you just don't have much room to move," Joyce said in one breath. As for a boy friend...." her eyes softened. "There's one!"
"Oh!" there was disappointment in Deanna's voice.
"Why you say it that way?" Joyce wanted to know, startled by the other girl's reaction.
"Just that I'd hoped you'd be a-forget it, honey!" Deanna took a deep drag of her cigarette.
"No! What's wrong with having a boy friend?"
"Nothing!" Deanna laughed. "It's just the way you said it. That's what's wrong!"
"I think it's nice to have somebody who cares for you!"
"Look, honey, don't get me wrong. Just that once you're here a few weeks, you'll get to wanting to do things. Go out with boys. If you're that serious with another guy back home, that cools everything."
"Oh, I see what you mean," Joyce sighed. Then after a moment she blurted out: "You're afraid that I'm a deadbeat!"
Joyce announced in a careful voice: "You know-I could forget about Danny while I'm here! If you can forget I told you about him!"
Deanna's face brightened. "Girl, you got yourself a deal! There's nothing more horrible than having a dead beat rooming with you. The girl that was here last year was a real square. Didn't do anything. Didn't drink or smoke or let ... well with the boys she was pretty square, too."
Joyce felt an inner flutter work in her stomach. Smoking was a habit which she had acquired a year before. As for men-only Danny had ever managed to do anything with her. Yet that was one of the reasons she had come to Davidson College-which was well over two thousand miles from her home town. Get away from the small minds and the crowding which she had felt while living there. Attempt to find some self-expression which wasn't controlled by the nosey bitches and bastards of Malesport.
"You have anything planned for tonight, honey?" Deanna asked.
"I hadn't given it much thought. I just arrived this morning and I've been pretty swamped getting things organized-signing for classes."
"How about going to a party. It might do you some good!"
"Oh, I couldn't do that!"
"Don't be silly. Just a small gathering. With that flaming hair and your figure-you'd be a smash! And anyway-the boys at the House ... You have to see the House. It's a real swinging place. Roy Griffin and Hal Elliott fixed it up-Roy has a load of money from his old man. Well, it's the only place in Davidson City where you can have any fun. From sex to booze. And a few really wild parties!"
For a moment Joyce stared at the other girl. All her life Joyce had believed that women didn't like other attractive women; that you couldn't have a friend in another girl; that it was impossible to depend on a female to be loyal or really helpful in getting you lined up with men.
"What you say?" Deanna asked. "How about tonight?"
"Well.
"All the campus big shots will be there! You'll get to meet some real social contacts. If you make a hit...."
"Well, I-why not? I guess maybe I could go in for some fun after the long trip out here from Malesport-over three days by train. Maybe you're right."
"Wonderful! I'll call Hal! The idea of some real classy new blood in the group will appeal to him. Play up to that guy and you're in!"
Deanna moved from the bed and then stepped to the door. "I guess you'll want to get a little rest between now and swinging time!" With that parting shot Deanna left her alone in the room.
For a long time Joyce sat numbly, trying to decide exactly what she had let herself into. More than anything in the world she wanted to find out what it was like to really Live! More than anything in the world she wanted to get in a swinging group-a group which could teach her something about life, which she hadn't been able to find out about in Males-port.
Sighing, and trying to relax her mind, Joyce lay down and closed her eyes. After a few minutes she fell off into a restful sleep.
In a few moments they were both naked on the bed, locking violently together.
CHAPTER TWO
In the residential section of Davidson City, inside a huge two-story white house, Mrs. Mildred Jennings, the dean's wife, looked at Roy Griffin in open terror.
"You gotta get some stuff for me!" she pleaded desperately. "I have to have some!"
Roy laughed crookedly and then his hand lashed out, slapping across the woman's face. "You'll get it-but you get that wo man's club off our backs! We don't want any nosing around."
"But how can I?" Mildred cried, cringing back, away from the young man.
"Quite simple-just see to it they get other interests in life! Just remember this-if they find out about what is really going on in that place-you don't stand a chance. I'll smear your name all over the globe. Your husband won't ever be able to get a respectable job for the rest of his life. What do you think it would be like if the headline read: "Dean's Wife Sleeps With College Boy? Or maybe a banner headline: DEAN'S WIFE ON NARCOTIC KICK!"
Nausea slashed through her. For a desperate moment she wondered how she had managed to get herself into such a mess.
In the past she had carried on several affairs with men, while still married to Dr. John Jennings. But they had been men more her own age. This was her first experience with a college boy since she had gotten married. Maybe that had been a part of it all. She didn't know. But when he had come over to the house to see the dean once, months ago, and John wasn't home, a casual conversation had developed and there had been an undercurrent of sensualness.
She hadn't liked it at first, but found it flattering that such a good-looking playboy type would show any indications of being interested in her. Over the months, Roy had managed to make it a point to beat the dean's house when her husband was away.
Four months ago he had made a pass at her. It had mildly shocked Mildred at first and she had made that quite clear to him. Roy had merely laughed and said: "Don't be silly, you know you want me. Just like I've wanted you from the moment we met! There's something wonderfully mature about you that-I have to have you!"
And the terrible thing was that she felt the same thing; the same desire which was burning openly in his eyes was a reflection of her inner want.
When he did arrive one afternoon he had made his point quite clear. "I want you-and I know you feel the same way, "he had simply told her in such a forceful voice that there hadn't been any room for argument. Even though she had tried, it hadn't done any good.
Then they went up in her bedroom, the same room which she had shared with her husband. In moments they were naked and on the bed, locking violently together.
That had been the first afternoon of many. But the nervous tension and guilt which had been the direct result of what she was doing finally had shaken her so much that she had told Roy about it. He had a simple solution. "Here, take this!" It was a small pill.
She had taken it, not knowing that it was a narcotic. Even now she didn't know what kind of narcotic-but it was habit-forming and now she needed; had to have it. Roy had kept her well supplied.
"Well," Roy snapped at her, bringing her thoughts back to the present.
She stared at him and then said tiredly: "I'll see what I can do to protect the House. Just give me some of those pills." Her voice was a sobbing, desperate choke. "I can't sleep without them. I need something-please!"
Roy dipped into his pocket and then extended a small box. "Here! Just get them off our back. Just say you know one of the boys and that you've been to the House and saw what it was. Just a club house for college students. Nothing more!"
"Mildred opened the box and then took a couple of pills. After a moment she turned her eyes to Roy. "Go up to the bedroom with me!" she pleaded, suddenly hungry for him.
Roy stared cockily for a moment and then sighing followed her up to her room.
They quickly got undressed and then lay on the bed together. Roy's fingers caressed her, fired excitement through her. Each caress worked aside more and more guilt and hate for what she was becoming. Then finally they locked together, savagely straining.
She didn't know when he got up and left.
For a dizzy moment, Joyce bad known that Hal would quite easily have been able to seduce her.
CHAPTER THREE
The House was quiet and dark, strangely haunting in its appearance. It was old and its outside was aged unpainted boards. When it had been built, the district in which it stood had been the rich section of town. Now it was a shamble among other shambles. The poor section. Yet there was a hidden charm about the place which most passers in cars or on foot never really had a chance to see. The charm was revealed upon walking in through the front door.
"We'll be really blasting tonight," Deanna announced as she brought her 1962 Ford to a stop; turning off the ignition and glancing toward Joyce. "What do you think of the place?" she asked.
"That old building?"
Deanna laughed throatily. "Honey, you're in for a surprise! Hal and Roy Griffin got together and with Roy's money they rented the place-have a two-year lease on it-and fixed it really up inside. Wait till you see it!"
Deanna got out of the car and Joyce followed. They walked across the street to the old house and then up the rickety steps to the large entranceway. The door opened a moment after Deanna knocked, and a tall, sandy-haired young man stood there grinning broadly. His body was large and muscular. He was over six feet tall. "High, Dee-this the new one you brought?"
"Hell, yes!" She turned to Joyce. "Joyce, this is Hal Elliott-I told you about him."
"I hope it was good!" Hal laughed, giving her body the full examination with his eyes.
Joyce felt a flush rush up her cheeks. He was undressing her. She felt a heated flash, wave across her flesh. He was just about the most attractively sexy hunk of man that she had ever seen in real life. His arms looked like they could crush the very life out of a girl's body.
"Come on in!" Hal offered in a deep bass voice. "I'll show Joyce around-you'll find Brent in one of the upstairs rooms." There was a gleam in Hal's eyes.
Deanna nodded, her face eagerly bright. "Think I'll look him up! "she said and rushed off down the hallway to a staircase which led to the second floor.
Joyce looked around. The hall had been painted a cream white. There were modern wild paintings lining the walls on both sides of the hallway, giving the only splashes of color.
"Where'd you get the paintings?" Joyce asked, keeping her eyes from Hal's face.
"Oh, some of the gang did them. Thought it would give the place a ... well, arty, effect. Here, let me show you around!" Hall took hold of Joyce's arm. The way his fingers wrapped themselves around her flesh caused an ecstatic thrill to rush through her. She had never met a man quite like Hal Elliott. He led her forward down the hall.
"Well, Joyce-I hope you like the place!" he said softly. "I already like you."
"How do you know?" she wanted to know.
"You kidding?"
"You don't even know me!"
"When it comes to chicks I can tell right away. You're the kind of broad that-"
"You have a good line? If a girl likes that kind of line!" Joyce told him in a chilly voice.
"Now what'd I do!"
"Nothing! Let's start all over! Forget it all. You show me the place," Joyce quickly told him, realizing that if she wanted to get into the group it wouldn't be a good idea to get Hal Elliott angered at her. Anyway he was only being nice and handing her a line.
Hal grinned and squeezed her arm. "Okay, we'll start with the playroom." He led the way down the hall to the first door. Turning, he gently guided Joyce into the large room.
It was modernly furnished. Three low couches, flat and backless-more like small single beds-were lining three walls. There were end tables at each couch and a large coffee table in the center of the room. On the other, fourth wall, was a large home bar with stools in front of it. On both sides of the bar were huge speaker cabinets. Over it was a pull-down modern lamp which extended from the ceiling. Behind the bar, in the wall was a panel which had a television set and the controls for a stereo system. All were built in the wall. Hal led her to the bar.
"Here's the tape recorder and the record player. Every convenience of home!" He played with the dials and then after a few moments soft romantic music filled the room. "We have every kind of music a guy would want." Pausing and staring into Joyce's eyes, he asked: "How about a drink?"
"Oh, I don't know...." she said in a quiet voice. A warning bell sounded in her brain.
"Come on-you gotta start swinging? His eyes finished his statement: if you want to be one of the gang!
"Why not show me the rest of the place-first!" Joyce suggested.
"Drink-and carry it with you!" Hal announced, opening a cabinet in the bar counter. "What'll you have? Rum. Gin. Vodka. Whiskey. Scotch. Wine. Beer-no- that's in the kitchen. I'll fix you anything you want!"
"How 'bout a martini?" he suggested, a gleam in his eye.
Joyce had never had a martini in her life. Didn't know if she really wanted to try one at this time. "Just some ... some ... vodka and 7-up!"
"You kidding!" Hal demanded in a voice filled with amazement.
"What's wrong with that?" Joyce asked defensively.
"Nothing-but I'd like to fix something more-"
"Okay-fix what you want!" she exclaimed a little tired of the subject; and tired of trying to fight the impulse which told her to be careful. If you're going to be part of the gang, she thought, then you'd better sing along ... she could take care of herself-regardless of how much booze she had!
As Hal started fixing the drinks, he began explaining about the room in which they were. "We can give this place any kind of lighting we want. If we have a real swinging party, with a crowd, it's possible to flood the place with lights. If we want it to be a little-well, you might call it 'romantic'-then we shade it down to dim. Any color combination you want. This is where partying takes place. Except the movies and other more private matters-when a couple want to be by themselves, that is."
He handed Joyce a reddish looking drink in a large water glass. "This'll keep you for a while!"
"Where's all the others?" Joyce asked, carefully taking a sip of the drink.
"They'll be along later ... I had Deanna bring you early so I could show you around!"
"Come along, girl!" Hal invited, starting out of the room. "Into a few other chambers!"
They went down the hall to another door and then he led her aside. "This is what we call the studio!"
The room was filled with equipment for painting, for modeling and for taking pictures.
"We sometimes like to do a little creative work-and ... over here...." he led the way across the room to another door, opening it. "Here's a place where we can write-study and things like that."
After a moment Hal turned Joyce, half caressing her arm as he did so, and directed her out into the hall again. They went into another room which was just beyond the staircase.
"This is the dining room."
There were several tables made to seat one or two couples.
"In there-the kitchen." Hal pointed but didn't lead her forward. "The men aren't allowed!" he laughed. "Deanna will have to show you!"
Joyce nervously took another sip of her drink. It had a strange taste to it. "What's in this?"
"A little of everything. Liquor-mainly rum-and some liquers ... some fruit juice-but not much. Like it?"
"I guess so-I'll give you a report after I know how it effects me?"
Hal smiled, but didn't say anything. "Come along! I'll show you the other rooms. Upstairs." There was a strange quality to his voice.
They walked up the stairs and then Hal gave her a tour through three of the four rooms. Two were bedrooms with small record players in them.
"They're set up so you have everything you want. A bath off each. It took some time before we could find a place which had everything we wanted. In this case we had to have one bathroom put in a large closet."
"Where'd you get all the money?"
"Don't be silly. We got connections. You'll meet Roy-he's the one with cash. The rest of us have connections. For the most part it didn't cost too much. The guy we rent the place from is a cat-he said we could do what we wanted with it-as long as it was an improvement. That is-after we'd given him a case of scotch and a little extra pocket cash, along with a little entertainment!"
Joyce felt suddenly nervous again. Quickly she took a sip of the drink. "Where's Deanna?"
Hal stared at her in surprise. "Where you think?" His eyes flicked toward the bedroom across the hall, which he hadn't shown Joyce. "Come along-I'll show you the movie room!"
He led her into the third room. There were chairs and couches; all were facing one wall on which was placed a white silver screen.
"You get pictures?" Joyce asked.
"You'll see some sometime-maybe," Hal told her softly.
Suddenly Hal was strangely close to Joyce. The nearness of his tall, large body sent little needles of fire through her; and the way he was gazing silently into her eyes caused chills to run down her spine. For a long time they didn't say anything, but the communications between their eyes left Joyce confused and slightly breathless.
Abruptly she was aware that his arm had slid around her waist and had pulled her tightly against his body.
Caution was the only thing which kept her from melting into his arms. Joyce had never felt this way for a man before. Hal had a strongly overwhelming animal attraction which she realized went no deeper than a sexual desire.
Hal's lips were inches away from hers now and suddenly they seemed to touch. He crushed her against him and was just beginning to press his mouth forcefully against hers when the sound of a man's voice called from downstairs, interrupting them.
"Hey! Where's everybody!"
Hal pulled away. "Some other time!" he announced, shrugging. "That's Roy-guess the gang's beginning to float on in!" He took Joyce's hand and led her out of the room, down the hall. At the closed bedroom door behind which Deanna and Brent were, he banged with his fist, shouting: "The gang's here. Get the hell out of there!"
Joyce felt a sense of relief as they moved down the steps. For a terrible moment she had known Hal would have quite easily been able to seduce her.
They stepped into the hallway to find half a dozen people.
The women were dressed in tight-fitting sweaters and skirts. The men casually dressed like Hall. All except one: he had on an expensive looking blue suit which had a flashy look about it.
"High, gang! Party time?" Hal called, leading the way into the playroom.
The others followed.
"I want to know what kind of man you really are, " she sighed, slipping down next to him. "Let's find out!"
CHAPTER FOUR
When Hal knocked on the bedroom door, shouting Brent Jacobs was involved in the delightful act of watching Deanna Brown undressing.
Deanna smiled across at him as she pulled off her bra, revealing two lovely, well-formed, shapely breasts! "To hell with the gang!" she breathed in a low rasp, slipping out of her skirt.
Everything had happened so fast that Brent wasn't in any emotional mood to argue with Deanna. She had come up to the room and casually started a conversation.
He had known her for some months, but never gone to bed with her. It wasn't lack of desire on either of their parts, but rather that things had never been developed between them. The glances and the few conversations which they had exchanged in the past had indicated to Brent she would be a willing partner. Besides that there was the point that Deanna went to bed with anything wearing pants.
First, after the little friendly kiss, had come casual conversation. "What are you doing up here!"
"Nothing much!"
"This is the first time we've been ... alone-like this."
"Yes!" A silence. Exchange of looks with hidden meanings. "It's funny we haven't gotten together before, Brent."
"How you mean that," in an innocent voice. "Come on-don't fool around with me!"
"I wouldn't think of fooling!"
"Don't you think it's time we did something about our lack of-well, knowledge of each other?"
"Just what do you mean? In what way?"
"You crazy guy! You don't think I mean exchanging our ideas about life?"
"That might be interesting!"
"As interesting as ... this?"
Deanna's mouth had covered his, open and moist. Her tongue had suggestively run along the surface of his lips. She pulled away. Looked sensually into his eyes. He said: "Well-conversation might be interesting-but I don't believe it could compete with something like that!"
"So?"
"What are we talking for?"
Deanna had then moved from the bed and pulled off her sweater. "I don't see any reason to play around, then!" she had announced boldly.
That was when Hal had knocked on the door.
Brent focused his mind and eyes back to Deanna. She was standing next to the bed, gazing down at him, completely nude.
"I wanted to know just what kind of man you really are!" she sighed, slipping down next to him. "Let's find out!"
Deanna's hands moved along his legs suggestively and then paused at his belt buckle. Her eyes spat fire at his and then suddenly her fingers were unclasping the buckle.
Brent just lay there, enjoying Deanna's forward actions. Normally a woman let the man make the advances-and it was a pleasure to lie there and let it work out the other way around. Abruptly Deanna was doing more than just unclasping his belt, and it wasn't long before Brent frantically reached for her shoulders and yanked her toward him. He anxiously crushed his lips against hers and for a long time they were probing each other's mouth. Searching Clawing. Squirming.
Finally she slid from Brent and pulled him around on top of her. Deanna's hands directed his over her body and then suddenly she moved her arms around his neck and urged his head toward her breasts.
After that, the savage passion voluptuously took control of them and they were abruptly hammering against one another, rhythmically throbbing on the bed until Brent felt his guts erupting like a volcano of searing lava.
Exhausted, he lay back, relaxing; breathing hard. His mind was burned as if a hot red iron had been flashed across it. His body felt like it had been put into a burning furnace. He lay there, thinking about what had happened.
Deanna was one of the wildest girls he'd had in a long time. She didn't play around about it. Her attitude was simply: I have animal, physical desires and passionate lusts that demand to be satisfied-let's get to it! He wondered vaguely why it hadn't happened sooner. But it wasn't so strange, since there were a lot of girls in the group. It took time to get to all of them.
Suddenly he felt a caressing hand glide along his thigh. Then Brent was aware of a breast pressed against his arm.
A light breathing sighed in Brent's ear as he felt two silky moist lips caressing the lobe. An excited tremor whipped through him; a wave of savage pleasure. Then Deanna's hands began caressing intimately, flooding the passion through his body like an electric current.
A pleasure wave flashed through him in ecstatic shocks. It built and grew until each wave had become tidal in size-flooding across him until he felt he would drown under the delicious breath-taking strength of them.
He was abruptly straining up against Deanna, gripping her body violently and brutally against his. A frantic moan broke from her parted lips as their bodies joined again in the sensual rhythm. He felt ecstasy burst through his body and then experienced a second wave which left him exhausted and numb.
How long he lay there, in half-consciousness, Brent didn't know. The pleasure moved from him like the surf escaping the sandy beach as the tides receded back. Then came the bare churning of doubt and guilt.
It was as if ever since he had come to Davidson College last semester, and found himself drawn into Hal's little party group, he had lived in a well of decayed degeneracy. Even though his body delighted in the freedom it was being given to experience sensually, his mind had a little annoying portion which revolted. He wondered about his father and what his mother might think of the life he was living. He thought of his sister Kay and how he'd feel if she was one of the girls in the group. What he'd do to any dirty bastard that even thought of touching Kay!
Angrily he countered his mental wanderings. The fact remained that when a girl hit 18 years old she was supposed to be mature enough to know what she was doing; if they were over twenty-one-like Deanna-they damned well should know what they were doing.
Turning irritatedly, Brent looked at the young woman lying on the bed next to him. At the swell of her delicate breasts and at the curve of her flowing slender figure. This was the body of a fully matured and experienced woman. Regardless of how any man might feel about her-wanting to protect her from harm-the fact remained that if she didn't get what she wanted from one man she would get it from another.
Sighing, Brent sat up and then swung his legs over the side of the bed. Slowly he stood and a moment later he was getting dressed.
"What you doing?" Deanna demanded in a disappointed voice.
"There's a party going on downstairs."
"So-what's the deal?"
"Don't you think we should join them?"
Brent asked, pulling his I-shirt over his chest.
Deanna stared for a moment, pursing her lips in thoughtful disappointment; then she slowly sat up, brazenly letting her full nudity be exposed. "If that's the way you feel about it-why not?" she asked tauntingly, gracefully sliding from the bed and over to Brent. She stood for a moment without moving and then smiling, slipped her arms around his neck. "Didn't you like it?"
Brent grinned broadly, saying: "What you think?" He started to pull her tightly against him, but Deanna twisted forcefully away.
"We have to go downstairs-remember?"
"Nobody said we had to!" he pointed out meaningfully.
"You seemed to think it was so necessary!" Deanna reminded in a cutting voice, her eyes flashing strangely into his.
"So we stay?"
"Go to hell!" she cursed almost angrily.
"You can't turn a girl on and off and off and on like that!"
"What the hell's got into you?" Brent cried, startled.
"Nothing! Nothing at all. Just, I climb into bed with a man and then he wants to take off again!" she told him in an icy voice.
Brent stared at Deanna for a long time, stunned, unable to believe what he had heard. "What's eating you, Dee?"
She sighed. "I'm sorry. Guess I liked it too much. That's all!" Deanna shrugged her narrow shoulders, and the action caused her breasts to move like smooth silken spheres.
"What's so special about me?"
"Don't kid yourself!" Deanna quickly told him, changing the soft quality of her voice to a biting tone. "Maybe it's just that-well it's been a long time since I've had it without being boozed up." The expression in her eyes said something else, even though she tried hard to hid the inner sparkle and light glow.
Brent smiled inwardly. Then shrugging, he pulled his pants on and stepped into the bathroom, looking in the mirror. He started combing his hair.
"What you doing tomorrow?" he called to Deanna, who was dressing in the other room.
"Gotta do a little studying."
"So, when did studying get in the way of a little fun?" Brent demanded in a lightly casual voice. The guilt and inner concern which he had felt a few moments before and suddenly washed away, leaving his old, sensual side bare and exposed.
There was only silence for a moment, and then finally Deanna's voice said: "To hell with work. " Then added: "Okay. We can get together here-tomorrow-after dinner!"
Brent nodded, grinning into the mirror. His face was lean and chisled; handsome. His brown hair was shortly cropped. He couldn't help feeling quite happy with himself. Deanna was a prize morsel. And for somebody like himself, who didn't have much money and had to actually work his way through college, it was even more of an ego boost.
It was the simple proof of his manhood and the manly expression which revealed itself in his love-making. It had to do with pride and the feel of being something important-something more important than simply a man with money or position. Those would come in later years. But for now the only real medals that he could win were those which women could give him.
Brent turned and stepped to the small bathroom and looked across at Deanna. She was just tucking her white blouse into her dark skirt. He asked: "Well-ready to join the gang?"
"In a second," she answered, looking up and smiling.
They closed the door behind them and Deanna moved in front of Brent, her face becoming quite serious. "I'm sorry about the-words I said to you."
"Think nothing of it!" he offered gallantly.
"I mean it! It's just that-well to be damned honest I'd-I didn't want to stop!" Deanna forced a laugh. "Maybe a little later?" There was nervous eagerness to her voice.
"Maybe," Brent shot lightly back as they started down the hallway.
When they walked into the playroom the party was in full swing.
* * *
Mildred Jennings looked longingly across at her husband, the dean of Davidson College, as they ate dinner, feeling the horrid guilt she had been aware of all afternoon and evening. She was terrified that he could read all the guilt in the expression on her face.
"How was school today?" she asked.
"The same old thing, at the beginning of the school year. Problems and problems. And that damned club house. I know about that-too. But ... what can you do?" He paused long enough to gaze into her eyes. The expression on his face showed nothing of what he was thinking. "The new students-and there
-and there are other things!" His dark brooding eyes dropped to the plate in front of him.
The rest of dinner was consumed in silence. After she had cleared the table and then cleared the dishes, she moved into the living room and watched television with her husband.
It was about ten o'clock that they went to bed, in the same room which she had been with Roy that afternoon, taking the pleasure which his body had to offer hers.
When her husband closed her in his arms for a good-night kiss she found herself going terribly tense, every muscle rigid in her.
"What's wrong," John asked, puzzlement showing in his broad heavy features.
"Nothing-nothing!" she quickly assured him in a low quiet voice. "What makes you think there is something wrong?"
For a moment he just gazed into her eyes and then finally said: "Okay-goodnight!"
He rolled over and went to sleep.
A few minutes later she heard his heavy snoring filling the room. With every snore her nerves grated until she thought she would scream. Finally she went to the bathroom and got some sleeping pills. They were sure to help-she knew that. Once back in bed she managed to force herself to relax and wait for the pills to take effect.
Her thoughts kept returning to the exciting form of Roy Griffin and his youthfulness. It was with that image before her mental eyes that she began to feel the effects of the drug. She didn't think about the reasons she had flung herself into the arms of other men, years before, and now into the arms of a young college boy young enough to be her son. She didn't argue with herself that she had reason for seeking sexual release with somebody else, other than her husband.
And in that restful state, she didn't think about anything except the soft, caressing touch of the young boy who knew how to love a woman, and knew how to make her like it. She bathed in that physical memory for a long time, gently feeling herself slowly drift deeper into the dark pit of drugged sleep, until all thought and all awareness floated away. That night she dreamed of Roy and herself.
"You don't think this is a simple college operation, do you? The House is the only really swinging pad in this whole creepy town!"
CHAPTER FIVE
The next morning was a Tuesday, and Joyce Hoffman woke up with the first hangover she had ever experienced. There was a terrible throb of an ache working angrily through her skull, and for a long time she lay unmoving, in bed, trying to make the pain go away before she had to get up. Her thoughts automatically focused on what had taken place the evening before.
A lot was lost in the fuzzy blue of drinks which Hal, Roy and Brent had managed to pour down her. There had been other boys at the party, most of whom were busily occupied with other girls, or to make any forward passes at anybody the "Big Three" were openly so interested in.
Once she had been introduced to Roy Griffin he had quickly taken over, slowly leading Joyce to the bar and fixing himself a drink. He started drowning her with rapid questions.
"Where 'ya from?"
"Malesport!"
"How you like Davidson?"
"I don't know, yet."
"You'll like it! What you think about the place here? The House?"
"Pretty wild!"
"Hope you'll be around a lot. How'd you find out about it?"
"From Deanna."
A knowing grin spread across Roy's deep-set eyes. "Where'd you meet Dee?"
"I'm her new roommate."
His dark blue eyes sparkled. "Then you'll be one of the gang, I guess." He examined her figure. "You should be popular."
Not knowing what to answer, she merely dropped her eyes, nervously.
What course are you taking?"
"An art major!"
"General?"
She nodded.
"About boys?"
She couldn't meet his eyes to that question.
"You free this week?"
"They say the first days in school are pretty busy-new classes and things like that," was her indirect answer.
"What you like to do for fun?"
"What do most girls like to do for fun?" That had been a bad counter-question.
"That's all depending on the woman! Some like to swim. Some like to dance. Some like to listen to music. Some like sports. Some like to talk intellectually. Most like to go out with boys."
"Let's say I'm an all-around girl-more or less. I like a lot of things. Some of the time. Most of the time I like to have a good time."
"That doesn't tell me much about you."
"What you want to know?"
"Well for a start-how 'bout letting me have a real good chance to find out what you like and what you don't like, by taking you out tomorrow?"
She thought that suggestion over carefully: wanting to accept and also wanting to slap his face. There was something about Roy Griffin which annoyed Joyce; and that was his overly sure attitude. He seemed to think she would be falling all over herself, huffing and puffing and panting to have a date with him.
"I don't know," she finally had answered. "Tomorrow will be busy."
"Then how 'bout Friday? There's plenty of things to see around town, and it takes a man to show you!"
Joyce decided, nodded, smiled. "Okay, that's a date, Roy!" It had been an impulsive decision made more from an inner desire to become one of the group; and fast.
The next few minutes were taken up with small talk and then somebody came up to Roy and asked him a question in private. A moment afterwards Roy nodded and then looked at Joyce. "Sorry-I'll be back in a little while!"
For a short time Joyce was alone, sipping her drink, and then Deanna Brown came gayly up with a tall, slenderly built man. The eager examination his eyes gave her five feet four inches left no doubt as to what he had on his mind. The minute Deanna opened her mouth, Joyce realized that the implication of the man's eyes had been revealingly accurate.
"This is Brent Jacobs," Deanna announced, tapping his shoulder and then laughing. "We were a little busy-but decided to join the party. This is Joyce Hoffman."
Brent nodded and then said that he hoped she'd be around the House a lot. For a long moment their eyes met and a strange feeling worked up through her. Nervously she took a last sip of her drink. Brent quickly insisted on fixing cocktails for all three of them. "You know, girls, I think you'll make quite a team!"
Deanna questioned that one: "What you mean?"
"Any guy wanting to fix up a buddy-you two would make a tempting team on a double blind date. You're both knockouts!"
Joyce turned to Deanna, grinning, "Has quite a long line."
After drinks had been handed around and then sipped, the conversation became general, covering the coming events at school and the major plans of the group. "We're planning a party-with movies in a few weeks. Only certain people will be invited. A small group. But I think maybe you girls will like it!" Brent told them. There was an odd gleam in his eyes. "Special movies!"
He was just about to say something else when Hal Elliott stepped up to Deanna and pulled her away.
For a moment there was a long silence and then Brent finally broke it. "I guess this group seems pretty wild."
"Why do you ask?"
"Oh-just for some reason you don't seem to fit."
"What?" Joyce demanded defensively, alarmed by his statement-afraid it noted disapproval. "I don't see why you say that! You don't even know me. Hal seemed to think I fit. So did Roy!"
"Hal thinks that anything with skirts on fits. As for Roy-he believes that what won't fall for his line or for his good looks or for his personality, will go after his money. I guess he's right."
"Sounds like you don't like it," Joyce observed, feeling on the offensive now.
"His money, no! Nothing against Roy. I think he's a swell guy. But the poor never like the rich. I have to work my way through college, and he gets it given to him by his old man."
"Don't you think working builds character?"
"Who wants that much character?" Brent asked, laughingly. Then added: "But the think is that he's right. The girls go from Hal to Roy-or Roy to Hal. They make a good team."
"And you don't get the girls?" Joyce announced, bitingly.
"What do you think?"
"I don't believe you were just holding hands-upstairs," Joyce told him coldly. Then suddenly she felt foolish. "I'm sorry-it isn't my business. Just that I'm a little-I guess tired after all the rush. It gets on your nerves."
Brent stood there gazing seriously at her and then asked: "Would you go out with me if I asked?"
Before she could really think about what she said, Joyce found herself answering: "Yes"
"How about some time this week?"
"I'm booked for Friday-I don't know-maybe the homework would get me swamped."
"Don't be silly! I'll help you if you get too much," Brent offered. "How about Saturday?"
After a moment's thought she had said yes. Then he seemed to fade out of the scene after a brief conversation. She wasn't alone for very long because Roy returned and suggested a dance.
The rest of the evening was a wild mardi gras of activity, dancing and talking and drinking, until her head was spinning from all three. When Deanna finally came to her and suggested they leave for the dormitory, she was more than willing to leave.
How Deanna had managed to get her into their room without being noticed, or stopped, Joyce didn't know. It hadn't occurred to her that drinking might be against the college rules for girls living in the dormitory.
Slowly her mind returned to the present and the numbing throb of her head. What was she going to do in classes this morning and afternoon? With that head, she was sure to scream before the day was over!
Nervously Joyce slipped from bed and went to the bathroom. After a couple of aspirins and a shower she was beginning to feel better. When she got out, Deanna was sitting up in bed.
"How you feeling, Joyce?"
"Terrible. I don't know how you got me into the-"
"Nothing to it! We got certain people paid off. You don't think this is just a simple young college operation, do you? The House is the only really swinging place in this whole creepy town! At least the only one which people under twenty-one can get into. So we saw to it that things were arranged."
"I thought it was all right for people over eighteen to drink and smoke in this state." Joyce said with concern in her voice.
"It is-but in a college town things are pretty well tapped up! Even then, the House is the only swinging place ... how'd you like it?"
Joyce forced a smile. "I think it's great!"
"Hal thought the world of you. And from what I heard, you're dated with Roy."
"Brent, too," Joyce announced innocently.
"What?" The question shot from Deanna's mouth like a bullet; her tone of voice was startled and angry. The glare in her eyes was open jealousy.
"Oh, I didn't know he was your boyfriend! I'll just call it off with him!" Joyce offered.
-Deanna was quiet for a moment, and then a cold quality took control of her voice. "Don't be silly, honey, I'll take care of Brent-tonight. You go out with him!"
Joyce stared at Deanna as an icy layer settled over her stomach. She tried to throw aside the feeling but couldn't. All that day her thoughts were about Brent Jocobs and Deanna Broan being together that night, and she didn't like the idea. Much worse was the fact that she didn't like the idea of even being concerned about Brent. She didn't even know him.
The moment the door closed behind them, Brent playfully ran his hand up her leg, sending raw shivers of excitement through her.
CHAPTER SIX
That day in school was a series of dry talks about what was going to happen in the courses, what to expect of the instructors and what they expected of the students. Joyce's head throbbed through each dull hour. The walks between classes didn't help matters much. It wasn't until she returned to the dormitory that she began to feel a little better.
She was just beginning to get dressed for the afternoon when she saw a message pinned on her pillow. For a moment she stood looking at it, wondering whom it could be from, then she unpinned it and read:
"Hal called, asked for you. Said he'd be up to the House after three and wanted to have you phone him."
It was unsigned, but Joyce guessed that Deanna had left it.
Irritation flooded through her at the idea that Hal thought-or any man for that matter-that she would even consider calling him. For a moment her face pinched into a frown and then she crumpled the note.
"To hell with Hal!" she exclaimed out loud. The next two hours she was looking through a couple of the books which she had gotten from the student store. In the next couple of weeks she would have to read them. Finally getting tired and a little sleepy, Joyce sat down on the bed, took out a cigarette and then leaned back thoughtfully smoking it. She couldn't have been there long before a knock sounded on the door. "Yes?" she called. "You Joyce Hoffman?"
"Yes."
"There's a phone call for you-downstairs."
Joyce started to ask who it was from, but she heard footsteps fading away. Sighing she stood and walked to the door. A few minutes later she was picking up a phone.
"Yes? This is Joyce."
The low voice of Hal Elliott sounded over the receiver. "Hi, what's keeping you?"
For a moment she had the impusle to snap sharply back at Hal, but instead she said in an evenly controlled voice: "What are you talking about?"
"Didn't Dee leave the message?"
"What message?"
"To call me."
"Oh, that." She let it lie there without any further comment.
"We're having a blast tonight. Thought you might be interested in coming and-"
"Oh, I'm just too tired. Thanks anyway!"
"What you mean?"
"Look, the party last night blew me over. I have a hangover and I'm tired. I don't feel like doing anything tonight except sleeping!" she announced in a firm voice.
"Okay, okay! You don't have to get mad about it!"
"I wasn't mad. Thanks for asking me-but I have other-after all I just arrived a couple of days ago, and now ... you'll just have to excuse me this time."
"How about a date this weekend?" Hal asked in a bold tone.
"I'm all taken up!"
"Oh. Well-I'll be seeing you."
The line went dead and Joyce slowly hung the receiver on the hook.
For a moment she sat there staring and wondering if she had done the right thing, then sighing, Joyce walked up to her room and slowly, thoughtfully got undressed. Stepping into the bathroom she looked at herself in the large door mirror.
An attractive girl stared back from the reflection. There was a serious expression on her face as the eyes started taking in her body. The full, well-formed, compact breasts were youthful and firm looking. Not too large to make her look top-heavy, but large enough to make most men turn to stare when she wore a sweater.
Her flowing red hair was falling over her shoulders, loose and free. The inward curve of her waist was creamy and smooth and the flattness of her stomach had a fine dot in its center. Her hips flared out in a slightly angular curve, slipping down and blending into the full, sensually-shaped thighs and legs.
Shrugging her shoulders, Joyce stepped into the shower and started the water. Waiting for the water to gain the right temperature she then finally moving under it.
For a long time she stood in the shower, letting the warm water work over her body like caressing fingers, sending little needles of pleasure through her. Then she started soaping herself. An idle thought passed through her mind as her hand started cleaning her breasts. What would it be like to have Hal Elliott in the shower with her?
The idea shocked her and for a long time she didn't move; only stood there frozen and stunned by the reaction which her body felt.
Finally shaking herself, she let the water rinse her flesh of the soap and then stepped out of the shower.
After drying her body, Joyce stepped into the bedroom and lay down on the bed. Taking a pack of cigarettes from the bed stand, she took one and then lighted it. For a long time she lay there thinking about herself and her future like at Davidson, and what she was going to do about the gang at the House. Every once in a while she worked her lips nervously under her teeth and then frowned.
After a long time she sighed, put out the cigarette and then lay down. It was only a few minutes later that her breathing became evenly spaced and relaxed so that the rising and falling of her naked breasts moved gently up and down. Sleep slowly clouded over her tired mind, bringing gentle restful escape.
* * *
Hal slowly lowered the receiver and looked at Brent and Deanna. "Well, that's that. The third girl in a row. What's getting into the world when a guy can't get a date?"
Deanna stared at the huge young man and felt sorry for him. There wasn't a thing wrong with Hal; and she'd easily would have been willing to spend the night with him-if it weren't that Brent was her date for the evening. "Cheer up, Hal!"
"You could have talked that roommate-"
"Don't be silly!"
Hal looked concerned and then said slowly: "I don't get her. What's with that Joyce girl?"
Deanna answered quickly: "You forget what it was like during your first days! And anyway-she's a nice girl from a small town. We'll have to break her in slowly."
Hal said, carefully, "You'd think she'd have been more than pleased to come over here and have a-"
Brent broke him short with: "Damn it all, Hal, what you think you are? Just a guy! Just because you're a hero or something around school doesn't mean that every girl is going to drop at your feet each and every time you want it!"
There was a silence and then Hal picked up the phone once more. "This time Sally Ben-net!"
Deanna turned to Brent and smiled: "Let's go have a drink? Let's let Hal make a fool of himself-by himself!"
"You slobs!" Hal snapped. Then said into the receiver. "Hello, Sally there. Sally Ben-net?"
Deanna and Brent went into the playroom and then as Brent was fixing a drink for both of them, she sat on the stool and asked, coyly: "I hear you're going out with Joyce Saturday."
"So?"
"Well, I thought that maybe we were going to-"
"No girl puts her fangs into me! We're all free agents," he smiled, handing her a drink. "Forget about everything except tonight!"
It was several minutes before Hal joined them, a broad grin spread across his face. "Well-hit pay dirt! Big blonde Sally!"
He fixed himself a drink and then settled at the bar stool next to Deanna. "Tell me something about that roommate of yours!"
"I don't know much about her. Only that she has some boy friend in her home town-but is willing to forget it all, as long as she's here at Davidson."
"Sounds interesting!" Hal grinned. "Maybe I can become her new boy friend!"
Irritation showed in Brent's frown. "Lay off her, Hal!"
The larger man turned and glared at Brent. "What's with you?"
"I think she's a nice girl-and I don't think its nice of the three of us to be chopping her over the block behind her back! That's all!" Anger was strong in his words.
"Okay. Okay! But what's for conversation, then?"
"A lot of things!"
The silence which blotted over the three showed how little they had to talk about. Deanna wished that she was alone with Brent. She didn't want to be in a crowd. Gulping down her drink she extended her emply glass to Brent. "I could use another!"
"So soon?" he asked, startled.
"So soon!" Anything wrong with it?"
"Nothing!" He mixed her another strong high ball and then handed her the glass. "Nothing at all-if that's the way you want to fly!"
"Talking about flying," Hal pointed out, "there should be a few extra kicks in a couple days."
"Weeds?" Deanna asked, excitement thick in her voice.
"Wild weeds. Kick weeds! And if you want something real wild-"
"Be sure to invite you-know-who!"
"Who?"
"Me-of course!"
"What about your roommate?"
"Joyce?"
"Why not?"
Deanna thought about that. She wondered if Joyce would go for anything stronger than cigarettes and liquor. Joy-juice could scare off a country girl. "I don't know-"
"We don't have to tell her what it is she's taking. Drop it in a drink!" Hal suggested.
Brent swore: "That'd be a dirty goddamned trick, Hal!"
"Why?" Deanna asked, intrigued by Brent's sudden concern for Joyce. Intrigued and angered slightly-but she hid the anger, and made her voice light and airy.
"You don't know what a girl might do when under a drug like that!"
"Hell you don't know what she'll do! She'd put out for anything. She'll give out-no sweat!"
There was a heavy silence after that. Then Brent finally said: "I don't like it, Hal!"
"What you going to do about it?" Hal's voice was thick with dangerous threat. "What you dare do about it?"
Deanna felt a charging thrill at the heat which was generating between the two men. The idea of what Hal might do to anybody that crossed him made a stabbing sensation whip through her body.
"Let's forget it, Hal," Brent said in a soft voice. "We're just talking-anyway!"
"Don't be too sure of that!" Hal snapped angrily. Then in a puzzled tone of voice, he asked: "What's gotten into you?"
"Forget it!"
Silence settled for a long time and each finished and refilled their drinks. It was a little less than forty-five minutes when Sally Bennet came bouncing in, her breasts moving like balls of jelly under the tight-fitting sweater.
"Hello, everybody!" she cried brightly, rushing up to Hal and throwing her arms around his neck. For a long moment they hugged and then kissed. It wasn't a gentle or subtle embrace. It seemed charged with all the sensual quality which each of them could put into it. But that wasn't unusual for either of them. Each was cut from the same tree of passion, generating all the lust and sensual desires they were about to project. They both took sex as an healthy outlet. Much as everybody in the group. They were classic members of the House.
Brent looked brazenly at Deanna, his fingers squeezing her hand seductively. For a moment they gazed at each other and then slowly he suggestively urged her from the stool.
Without a word they walked from the playroom and headed up the stairs and into one of the bedrooms.
The moment the door had closed around them, Brent playfully ran his hand up her leg, sending raw excitement through her. They didn't wait for overtures. They had come for one purpose and so they quickly moved to the bed.
Brent's hands slipped over her body, exploring and slowly stripping aside all the clothing, until she was nakedly exposed to his fingers which worked over her body until the terrible tension built through her and she was fairly sobbing for him to take her. In a few quick actions he yanked aside his clothing, and then moved down to her, as she opened her body to him.
After that, there was only the sea of sensation which each of them floated on through the next few hours, exhausting and exploiting one another until final satisfaction gave the last spurt of ecstasy to their tired and heated bodies.
* * *
Mildred Jennings had paced the day and the night. The pills which Roy had given her the other day had dwindled and soothing excitement which they gave her was wearing thin. She needed the man-Roy Griffin. She needed his body to move smoothing and tightly against hers. She needed to feel his hands firing her to the pitch of wonderful sensual pleasure.
She had never had such a male before. When she was young, she had met John Jennings in high school and that had been her only man up to that point. They had gotten married. But a childless marriage had brought a strain on her during the first portions of middle age and there had been a few sordid affairs, but nothing like Roy.
It wasn't that she didn't love her husband, but rather that she had grown to the point where her inner need to be wanted and needed was stronger than John's ability to give her. He had long since stopped making love to her every day. First it had dwindled down to once a week and then once a month. Now it was very seldom. And her body craved something that he couldn't give anymore-or wouldn't give.
The years as dean of Davidson College had worn him down to an old man before he was really ready in years. He just didn't have much time for her anymore. And the time he had he spent before the television, which he claimed gave him intellectual relaxation.
Now he lay snoring in bed, asleep and away from the mental strain of work. While all the time Mildred was sitting in the front room, d r inking scotch whisky and thinking about the young college boy named Roy Griffin.
She wondered how long she could go on the way she was. That afternoon she had called Mrs. Wiggins, president of the Davidson's Women Club, and mentioned casually that it wouldn't be necessary for the club to look into the matter of the College Club House.
"It's okay!" she had told the other woman. "I know one of the boys-and he couldn't be better. He took me there-and I know how it is. Just a harmless place for the students to get away alone by themselves.
She had told more lies, knowing all the time that the House was a degenerate place of sin. A college escape from the restrictions of college rules and regulations. It was a place where drinks and dope and pornographic films were freely offered. A place where there was a bedroom where students could get together and have sexual relations freely. Roy had taken her there once to show her around.
Mildred sighed and downed the rest of the scotch. She had to do something about Roy.
She had to have him once more.
Desperation had caused her that afternoon to write a letter to the boy. It had been a foolish mistake, but she couldn't do anything about it now, for it was already mailed.
"Dear Roy," she had written, "I don't dare call you by phone-a letter is more private. I took care of the matter you asked me to look into. It's all right now. I trust that you will get rid of this after reading it.
"I find myself needing to see you-it is important. Please stop by as soon as possible.
Then she had signed her full name. That had been a mistake, too. But it was done, she thought bitterly, standing and going over to the small liquor cabinet and pouring another drink. She hadn't really said anything that would indicate the full truth of their relations. But if Roy didn't destroy the note-or somebody else happened to see and read it before he got a chance to-it might cause a few embarrassing questions.
Mildred downed her frantic concern and fears with the scotch, during the next few hours and then finally staggered up to her bedroom in which her husband was sleeping soundly, unaware of his wife's thoughts, and unaware of her tormented desire.
Roy pulled away, and then, glaring down at her, ordered in a strangely demanding voice: "Take off your clothes!"
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next days at school weren't much of an effort or incident to Joyce. She saw little of her roommate and heard even less about the House. There was an inner fear that maybe she hadn't passed the test and had been voted out. Whether that bothered her or not, Joyce couldn't make up her mind. Several letters from her parents sent doubts about the House and the group which she had decided lived the wild life with.
"I hope that you're enjoying yourself and getting in the right crowd," her mother told her.
A letter from Danny brought tears into her eyes, because a lot had happened to them in the past, and he had been her one and only lover to that day.
"I hope you aren't letting any of the boys hand you a line-you never can tell about the college men! Just remember I love you."
Then Friday came, and for the first time in several days Deanna seemed to have made it a point to be around when she was there. They talked generally, touching only lightly on boys and the social life at college. Then Deanna asked: "I heard you're going out with Roy-is that right? Tonight?" Joyce nodded.
"Well, just take my advice-play along with him. If you cut his efforts cold-!!!
There was a warning in her voice that Joyce didn't like.
That warning was thick in her mind when Roy picked her up, and then all through dinner. Roy had taken her to one of the nicer clubs in town, where a small combo played music after nine.
"How do you like the place?" he asked, after they had finished with dessert.
"Fine! I think it's wonderful!" she exclaimed. The fact was that she thought it was more than wonderful. The whole evening. The surprising thing about Roy was that he hadn't once made a pass at her. The only contact exchanged between them had been when he helped her out of the car or into a seat. So far he had been a perfect gentleman. The conversation had been light and airy, touching everything sports to politics to science-but not sex.
"What would you say to a drink?" Roy suggested light.
"I didn't know they served drinks-"
"They don't ... well, if you know the right people-you get what you want. I know the guy that runs this pad. For a large bill he will fix us up with something special."
There was such an eager, boyish expression in Roy's eyes that Joyce found it impossible not to accept his offer. He stood and said: Excuse me-I'll be back a little later!"
He disappeared into the "Employees Only" door and was gone for over ten minutes. When he returned he was carrying a tray with two cups on it. He placed the tray on the table and then sat. "This is a special of the House. Only members of a certain private organization are able to get it.
"What is it?"
"A little of everything, to be made to look like a little strong coffee."
Joyce sipped from the cup. It tasted strange, but pleasant enough. For a long time they sat, talking a little, sipping the "coffee drink" more, and just enjoying the atmosphere, which was dark intriguing romance.
"You know, Joyce, you're quite a girl," Roy announced, reaching out a hand and gently patting her. Then he pressed his fingers around her hand and squeezed. "I think you're going to make quite an addition to our little group."
Strangely Joyce didn't feel any alarm. She just smiled back at him and then sipped from the drink. When it was finished Roy called the waiter over and then asking her if she wanted another, ordered two "specials." Then added: House Specials! Jack knows about it. Just tell him!"
Five minutes later new drinks had arrived.
For some reason Joyce hadn't felt any effect from the first drink-but the second one seemed to settle over her nerves like hot fire, burning them raw and causing them a flame with a crying desire to be held tightly against a man's body. By that time the small combo had settled itself on the tiny bandstand and then started playing music.
"Want to dance?" Roy asked.
Her yes answer brought them onto the dance floor a few moments later. Joyce was surprised how delightful Roy's body felt against hers. Each contact and each sliding of their bodies together sent little needles of flame through hers. Finally, when the dance was over, Roy led her to the table and looked down into her eyes, surprise showing in his face.
"Boy-the way you danced!"
Joyce couldn't say anything to that. She felt funny, and what was worse than that was the fact that she didn't care. There was an aching pain inside her body which cried desperately to be soothed, and she didn't know quite how to go about soothing it. All she knew was that she wanted something so bad that she could taste it-and the contact with Roy'd body made her feel better. The feel of him growing against her.
Roy sat and for a long time didn't say anything. He finished his drink and then as Joyce downed the last drop of hers, he said: "I don't know about you-but I couldn't stand to dance again."
Joyce found herself nodding. She didn't dare speak. She was afraid of what her voice would sound like. Its lack of control. She just sat there, numbly. Waiting for what was coming next-and not wanting to hear it.
"Let's get out of this place!"
Without wanting to, Joyce found herself following Roy out of the restaurant a few minutes later and stepping into his car. They didn't say anything; because there wasn't anything to say. Roy drove, and in ten minutes was pulling the car up in front of the House. He killed the engine and jumped out, stepped around to her side and helped Joyce out of the car. They moved toward the House and a few moments later were inside.
Music sounded from the playroom mixed with noise of voices. But they walked past the doorway and right up the stairs and down to one of the bedrooms.
Joyce felt like she was in some kind of dream world. She had no control over her will; her mind cried to turn and run, but all she did was follow Roy like a helpless puppet.
As Roy closed the door behind them, giving the privacy which they had come for, h e turned and stared Joyce's figure up and down. Finally he said: "You're really something!"
Joyce felt a nervous tremor shoot down her body and found it hard to stand still under his sensual gaze. She didn't really care about anything and that odd detachment which was working over her mind and emotions strangely didn't seem so odd. The only thing that mattered was to be taken into his strong arms.
Then Roy stepped across to her, taking her body tightly in his arms. The first kiss was generated with burning heat-all the passion he could put into it. Joyce found herself squirming desperately against him; frantically returning the embrace with every ounce of strength in her little compact body. Aware of his growing manhood pressed so tightly against her.
Roy pulled away and then glaring down at her, ordered in a strangely demanding voice: "Get undressed!"
For a stunned moment Joyce stared up at him, startled at his command.
"Damn it all-get dressed in the nude! And fast!"
A sob of terror wanted to choke in her throat, but Joyce found herself slowly doing as he requested. It was like moving through a nightmare with some other being working her body against her own will.
Finally she had pulled off her blue dress and then slowly unclasped her bra so that her full, large breasts were given the complete freedom which nature had meant for them to have.
"Hurry!" Roy demanded, jerking off his pants and standing completely naked before her.
Joyce looked at his body as she finally stepped out of her panties. The sight of him excited her more than she had ever felt or been for Danny. It wasn't that he was more handsome or sexy looking, but rather that some strange effect which was working over her body.
She knew what had caused it in a vague way-but she couldn't bring herself to demand what Roy had put into that coffee drink of hers. All she cared about was delighting in the embrace of his body. Thrilling in the sensual touch of naked contact. Exciting to the ecstacy of two human's locked in the last rhythms of sexual union.
Roy reached for Joyce and yanked her against her body. She felt the wonderful hardness of his form against her, causing a swelling ache swelled within her until she thought she'd die from the tight pain.
Suddenly Roy threw her backward onto the bed and climbed down roughly against her. There was a savage brutality about the way he took her. As if he didn't care if she received any enjoyment out of it-or as if he knew that no matter what he did or didn't do to her, she would find herself rising time and again toward the summit of ecstasy, and convulse over only to reach the peak once more, until she thought she'd scream in the pain and joy and agony and thrilling excitement of the terrible and disgusting orgy which was taking place in this room with a man she hardly knew.
She heard herself sobbing, sick with nausea as Roy moved from her. She heard the self-disgusted choke catch in her throat at what had taken place, while at the same time found her body crying to have Roy again. How long he let her lie there, alone in her agony, Joyce didn't know, because she was on her own cloud of blackness which floated her high above the room, while at the same time pressing her down below the deepest pits of hellish torment.
She wanted to cry and scream at the same time. She wanted to run and run, away from this sinful House and the damned orgy which it represented. She wanted to find some escape from the torment which was twisting her in-sides with desperate longing for the man who had just degraded her to the dirtiest animal.
Then Roy pressed once more against her. His lips moved to her breast and she found her breath sucking in at the pleasure which he was causing to whip through her body. Then suddenly she wasn't thinking any more; she wasn't aware of anything except the thrill of what his lips and body was doing to her.
She didn't care about anything except the endless burst of joy which was rippling at her again and again until finally she screamed out in her agony, begging for him to stop, and at the same time wanting him to continue until exhaustion overcame her.
Finally she felt sleep fold over her. She wasn't aware if Roy was still caressing her body or not-she didn't think so. All she knew was that at last, black nothing had soothed her torment, giving her the only escape which she knew she would be finding for a long, long time.
When Joyce awoke she was alone and for a terrible moment she had a sense of panic. Then she realized that Roy had no doubt gone downstairs. After a moment an inner sickness worked through her stomach; a sickness caused by her mind, which was disgusted at what she had done. Then she stood and moved to the bathroom. There wasn't anything she could do about what had happened, now. The damage was done-and probably she was now a full-fl-edged member of the House.
Dressing, she made up her mind to leave the House by herself. Slowly Joyce stepped to the door and opened it; looking out she breathed a sigh of relief and then stepped down the empty hallway. Down the steps. Down the hall, hoping with every breath that she would be able to pass the doorway leading into the playroom without being noticed. Finally she crept her way to the entranceway and then opened the front door. A moment later the night darkness folded around her as she stepped down the street, lonely and lost, hopelessly confused about herself and what had happened, and what had caused her to act in such an terribly immoral way.
If they wanted sex, why shouldn't he give it to them?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Hal turned to Brent, replacing the receiver. "Boy you should have heard Roy's recommendation of Joyce Hoffman!"
"What?" Brent demanded, shock jerking his eyes up to the other man.
"He said she's no more virgin than Deanna! And a lot better!"
Brent felt a sharp dig of disappointment stab through him at Hal's announcement. His face frowned and he said slowly: "I'm-in a way sorry to hear that. I thought that she was something different!"
"There's nothing different about women. There are only three kinds. The ones that won't and the one that will-which aren't so good-and the ones that will that are great! Joyce Hoffman is one of the greats-according to Big Daddy Roy!"
"But she looked so innocent and-well, clean cut. I didn't-well, the way she talked and acted."
"The ones that talk innocent and act innocent are usually the biggest whores in bed!" Hall announced, grinning broadly. "When will you learn that?"
"I guess I'll never learn it. I'm what you call a romantic idealist. I'm looking for the pure at heart! And I guess I'll never find it. At least not in the crowds I run around with!"
"If you don't like us-"
"That's not it! There's a time and place. There's no reason I couldn't swing in college. Afterwards I'll look and find what I'm after. Till then-I might as well use the broads that want it. Have my fling while I can!"
The two men stared at each other and then Brent laughed nervously and said: "Look, I better get moving! I have to get to work! I'll see you later this evening-maybe, if you're lucky!"
"I'll never be so lucky!" Hal grinned back.
The tight mood had been crashed.
All that day, working in the factory, Brent couldn't get the depression out of his mind about Joyce Hoffman. He had been so sure about her, that he would have banked a hell of a lot of money to back his conclusions.
He came to the conclusion that he was just a sucker for a beautiful face and that there wasn't any reason why he should continue to be a fool about women. If they wanted sex-why shouldn't he give it to them? The things about moral codes and rights and wrongs were just a lot of rot, anyway, so there wasn't any reason why he shouldn't give a broad what she wanted. If he didn't, somebody else-like Roy-would. So that evening he would give Joyce Hoffman what she seemed to want most. sex!
It was late in the afternoon when he arrived back to the apartment which Hal and himself shared. After a long shower, he fixed himself a drink and then dressed in his best suit: If he was going to give Joyce the works that evening, there wasn't any reason why he shouldn't do it up right.
By seven he was at the dormitory where Joyce lived. When he asked for her at the desk he was surprised to have an envelope handed to him, with his name on it.
Tearing it open he quickly read the message.
"Dear Brent, "Please excuse me for tonight, but I just can't make it. I hope you'll understand. I don't feel well. Joyce"
For a long moment he stared at the message, not quite sure what to make of it. For some reason he couldn't help believing that Joyce wasn't telling the truth. That there was some other reason for her not wanting to go out with him; but what that might be, he couldn't guess.
Finally crumbling the note, he stomped out of the dormitory and to his car. Maybe h e could get Sally Bennet or Deanna Brown, but doubted it. This was Saturday night and most girls had dates. His final thought was to hell with Joyce Hoffman, as he started the car and directed it down the road toward the House. The least he could do was to get a little drunk!
The movement of his youthful body against hers sent stabbing pains through every nerve.
CHAPTER NINE
In the next days, Joyce made it a point to keep away from Deanna as much as possible. In the evening she would be out-even if it was necessary to only take a walk. In those days she saw all the movies in town several times, in order to have something to do. What studying, she attempted to do what just barely got her by. She couldn't think of much except what had happened with Roy Griffin.
She couldn't write home about it; neither her folks nor Danny would understand. Least of all them. There weren't any real girl friends. Finally a mounting nervousness, which kept her awake most of the nights, overcame her and she found herself rushing up to the dormitory and into her room a few weeks after she had cut off all social activities with Deanna and the House.
The tension and the inner confusion had mounted to a point where she had to do some-ting. She had to talk to somebody about what had happened. What was worse was that night with Roy had developed a physical desire for more.
Sitting thee nervously smoking and waiting for Deanna's return from the last class that afternoon, she found herself wondering what had really brought her to this terrible point of anxiety. But there wasn't any answer. The only step that she knew of was to talk to Deanna.
It was near five o'clock before Deanna stepped into their room. For a moment the older girl stared at Joyce without saying anything. Then walking across the room, placing her books on the small desk in the corner and turned to face Joyce. "Well, no end of surprises!"
"I know-I've been avoiding you."
"The only time we see each other any more is in bed!" Deanna said a little icily.
"Please! I have to talk to someone ... and I guess you're the one elected!" Joyce said in a tortured voice.
For a moment Deanna stared, and then her face softened. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm just a selfish-well, it's been a little hard for me these weeks. The boys at the House keep plaguing me with questions about you-and nothing!
I don't even get a chance to talk to you! So ... I guess I snapped a little hard. What's troubling?"
"Is there some place that we can talk-where we could get a bottle?" Joyce realized that the only way she could let out what she had to say was to get a little high.
It was a little over thirty minutes before Deanna had driven them to the small town beyond Davidson City. They found a bar where there weren't very many people, and then settling in a dark, corner booth, ordered martinis and sat staring at each other.
Finally the martinis came and Joyce sipped hers. It was several seconds before she felt the effects and then she looked across at the other girl and smiled. "I don't know quite how to start!"
"From the beginning."
"That's the point I don't really know what it is that I want to talk about."
Deanna gazed deep into Joyce's eyes and then said: "Maybe I can help." She paused long enough to light a cigarette and then take a deep drag. "I think I know what is bothering you. Roy pulled one of his bastard tricks on you."
Joyce just nodded, tight lipped, unable to say anything. Ashamed at herself while at the same time finding an inner urge swell through her.
"Roy is a bastard-he thinks that women are playthings that he can do with as he wishes. If he thinks you're the type that needs a little help-well that's what he does! But really what's wrong? After all, sex is here to stay and I just don't see any reason to bother one self about the rights and wrongs about it.
You're a woman and you need a physical and sexual release. One guy is the same as another." Deanna paused and then blew smoke into the air. "Is that what's bothering you?"
Suddenly the words flooded out. "I guess I've been pretty silly at that. You just have to realize that the town I came from has pretty rigid ideas about sex-and I guess that maybe I'm still under their control. Damn it all! Why should I put myself up as a god or something. Maybe I'm just a dmaned fool!"
"Forget it! The boys at the House will be glad to have you back!" Deanna announced smiling knowingly. "You think so?"
"Why shouldn't they?"
"I guess I acted pretty foolish-and cutting the date with Brent-"
"He was a little put out-but that's all. No doubt he'll have forgotten all about it by now. Don't forget that you aren't the only woman in the world. People are too concerned about their own problems to care a damn about yours."
"I'm sorry about cutting myself off from you-I had to think things out, I guess!"
"Want to go to the House tonight? There's a special party going on!" Deanna asked.
Joyce thought that over and then decided. If she could get a little drunk first. "Let's have a few more drinks. I need to be flying a little!"
Deanna smiled and nodded.
For the next hour they drank several martinis and then after paying the bill went out to the car. Their first stop was at the dormitory to change, and then an hour later they started for the House.
Roy Griffin had been at her home that afternoon and Mildred had received her needed supply of pills. Again, even though she'd wanted to ask what they were, she hadn't had the courage to do so. He had come and simply given the pills to her, saying nothing. She had wanted to have him stay, but hadn't asked. He said something about having something he had to do and then left.
There was an emptiness in her that choked throughout every nerve, and the pills hadn't helped much. Finally, after watching television she went to bed with her husband. His goodnight kiss simply reminded her of Roy and her physical need for the young man.
For a long time she lay in bed thinking about him, unable to sleep, and then slowly rest started to relax her muscles and sleep drifted over her consciousness.
This time the dream about Roy and herself stabbed a terror through her mind the next morning.
She was out on a beach, nudely sunning. For a moment she wondered what she was doing on the beach-and what beach it was, because she hadn't lived within a thousand miles of an ocean for the last twenty years. Then a voice called her: "Milly, Milly, where are you?" She sat up and turned her head around toward the voice.
There was Roy Griffin standing several feet away from her, looking directly into her eyes. "At last I've found you, Milly!" he choked out in desperation, rushing toward her. She opened her arms to him and they clung together. The movement of his youthful body against hers as it locked to her sent stabbing pains through every nerve. She felt him grow tight and hard and then without any preludes or waiting, they were joined, and at the very peak of building to the finally ecstasy the scene exploded away and she was running along the street, dark and foggy, screaming, yelling, frantically looking for Roy.
Suddenly she came to a huge house. It was The House. The face of the house seemed to be laughing at her and an arm moved out from it with a hand full of little pills in it. The House said: "Here, take some of these-this will calm you-it will help you."
She screamed at it: "No! No! I want Roy. I want Roy! I need him! Please! Please give me Roy. Give him back to me!" The House merely laughed at her. Then suddenly nothing.
Mildred Jennings was sitting up in bed, the morning sun breaking through the window. She knew one thing: she had to have Roy Griffin again-regardless of what it cost her. She couldn't go on like this. Regardless of how degrading it all was.
She made up her mind that she was going to have the boy-no matter what she had to do in order to get him.
The man looked at the woman and then hurriedly undressed and moved to the bed. A moment later he was sweeping her into his arms, kissing and caressing her body.
CHAPTER TEN
Her reception at the House was surprisingly casual to Joyce. It seemed as if they hadn't even noticed that she had gone.
There were only seven people at the House when they arrived. Most were milling in the playroom, drinking and listening to progressive jazz. Joyce made a rush to the bar and fixed herself a drink which she quickly gulped down. She was just beginning to work on the second drink when Brent Jacobs and Roy Griffin walked in. Everybody turned expectantly.
"Where's Hal?" somebody cried.
"He's gone up to the projection room. Fixing things," Roy announced. Suddenly his eyes spotted Joyce and then, after making a full sweep of her body, he walked to her.
"Well, long time since you've been around. What kept you away?" He leaned close and kissed her cheek. For a moment she stiffened, not liking the public display-and also not liking his possessive attitude. It was as if he were showing everybody in the room that he'd seduced her.
"I was busy," she finally said, trying hard to keep the chill from her voice. She didn't really like Roy.
"When we see the movies? "a voice shouted.
Roy turned his attention to the others. "We can go up right away!"
"What kind of film are we going to see?" Joyce inquired, taking a sip of her drink.
Roy's eyes gleamed as he said: "You'll find out. You'll find them-different!"
Ten minutes later everybody was settled in the small room which had been set up for movies. There was an excitement in the air-a nervous excitement which troubled Joyce.
Something told her that she shouldn't be here. Nervously she gulped half her drink and was relieved as a numb band developed around her head. She was sitting by Deanna and Roy. Brent Jacobs was in the seat in front of her.
Brent turned and looked at Joyce but didn't say anything. There was an odd expression on his face, but it didn't reveal any emotional-or tell Joyce in what he was thinking.
Suddenly the lights went out and there was a nervous snickering from the audience. Then the screen which was hung on the wall came to life with a white square of light. For the moment the blank whiteness continued, and then all at once it came alive with a picture of a room, dingy and dirty looking. The camera panned and then came to a stop at the door which opened. A woman stepped into the room, closed the door and then quickly started getting undressed.
Shock numbed Joyce. Disgust rippled through her and for a moment her breath caught in her throat as the nude woman on the screen lay on the bed, taking up a much too obviously suggestive pose.
The door opened again and a man walked in. He looked at the woman and then hurriedly undressed and moved to the bed. A moment later he was sweeping her into his arms, kissing and caressing her body.
Joyce couldn't believe what she was seeing. It seemed like some kind of dream-world. All she could do was sit there dazed and numbed. She watched as the disgusting scene on the screen continued to its ultimate conclusion and the screen went blank. Only then was she able to snap out of the frozen-shock which had held her horrifiedly fascinated. She hurriedly stood and murmured something about needing another drink and rushed past Roy and out of the room.
A few minutes later she was standing at the bar in the playroom, gulping a strong shot of whiskey, trying to hold down the nausea which was churning in the pit of her stomach.
What she had just seen up in that room had been something she had never dreamed could possibly exist. She had heard about stag movies, but had felt that they were probably only showing a strip show-not what she had just seen taking place.
"What's wrong, Joyce?" Roy Griffin's voice asked at her side, jarring her thoughts.
Joyce turned, startled.
"Don't you like the movies?"
A terrible cutting remark was biting at the end of her tongue and she was just about to spit it out at Roy, when he yanked her into his arms, covering his lips with his. Shock and surprise kept her from struggling, at first, then the caressing of his hands over her breasts and buttocks fired her passions and physical needs. Then when a warning bell exploded in her head and she attempted to push Roy away, Joyce realized, it was already too late.
"Please!" she gasped. "Leave me alone!"
Roy cursed as he clutched her body closer to his. "You're just-like any other broad! You like it-so stop acting like a bitch!"
Suddenly a strong hand yanked Roy from her.
"Take it easy!" Brent Jacobs snapped. "If the lady is a lady-treat her like one!"
For a moment the two glared at each other and then Roy relaxed. "Sorry, Brent. Guess I just got carried away."
Before anybody could say anything else, Roy turned and walked from the room. There was a long silence and then Brent stepped around the bar and fixed himself a highball. "I'm sorry about Roy. Sometimes he forgets that every woman isn't crazy about falling at his feet!" There was a dark note of bitterness to his voice. "We aren't all that way."
For a few seconds Joyce stared at her drink and then she looked up into Brent's eyes. "Could you take me back to the dormitory?"
Brent silently nodded and put down the glass which he was just beginning to pour whiskey into. He stepped around to Joyce's side and gently took hold of her arm, leading her from the room. A few minutes later they were out in his car. "Would you like to take a drive, first?" Brent asked, casually.
Joyce thought that over and decided that there wasn't any reason to turn Brent down for the second time. He'd been a gentleman ever since she had met him. "Okay. For a little while. Maybe the air will do me a little good."
They drove a long time before either of them said anything. Brent was the first to break the silence. "I guess you have a pretty low idea about us."
Joyce didn't say anything to that. The only thing he'd left out was that she also was beginning to get a pretty low idea about herself too.
"Look, Joyce-you gotta understand that-well what you saw tonight isn't what everybody goes for. It's just that certain people like that kind of thing, and the rest have to go along. If they want to be part of the gang they have to go-
"Why is it so important to be part of the gang?" Joyce asked bitterly-more of herself than Brent.
"I guess that everybody wants to belong to something-to have something to ... I don't know if its so important to be part of the gang so much as to he accepted. If others accept you then maybe you're something important. Maybe that's just a rationalization-I know that....
With me, it started with being Hal's roommate and then slowly developed into becoming an important part of the group. There's not much in this town for kicks-so you have to do something. Anyway-why the hell I'm explaining to you, I don't know. What difference does it really make?"
"Maybe you're different from the rest, like me," Joyce suggested.
"Different? I wonder! I like the same things the others like. I do the same things. I run around. So-what makes me different?"
"The simple fact you are talking the way you are. You care about what's happening." Joyce paused and then asked: "How'd this all start, anyway?"
"Roy and Hal started it. Something to do for kicks."
For a long time they were silent, and then Brent turned down a lonely dirt road and after a few moments brought the car to a stop under a tree. He turned toward Joyce, looking deep into her.
"What made you drop out of the group-after only a couple of times ... and then come back?"
"
"I don't know!"
"The same reason I've stayed so long. Everybody is trying to find themselves. Everybody is trying to seek out the answers of what makes themselves kick around. So-a few of us, not being able to find answers that help much, band together and swing a few wild parties and wild months. You answer the question to yourself.
"Why do you find the House and everything surrounding it so intriguing? What is it that draws you to it? A degenerate place. We believe in kicks and nothing else. We are called swingers. So what? So what draws us to it?"
It seemed strange to Joyce to hear Brent Jacobs talk that way. It seemed so out of place; why to her?
For a short few minutes they were silent and then Brent continued. "I'll tell you my answer. The world is so clamped tight with so many restrictions that a guy wants to explode-you want to find some expression which is outside the restrictions of society-outside the laws and ethics and so-called moral codes. So what do we do? We have our little group which lives the way it wants to live. Does the things it wants to do. Expresses itself in the most crazy ways it can think of. So our generation is all knotted up inside itself. And why? Because society is so organized.
"Every thought is regulated by the professional thought controllers that tell us what to buy, what to think, what to do. And when we get out into that world we find ourselves sucked into their way of think-because there just isn't any emotional survival unless we do as society says we must do. If you want a job-and want to get ahead-you have to do the accepted thing. You have to shape yourself into the shape which others say you must be. Play up to the boss. Become a team worker. Don't think! Just do as you are told! Have respect for authority! All that rot! So-what the gang at the House is doing is simply trying to find a burst-out before they are forced to conform to society for the rest of their lives.
"We are people that revolt. We are trying to find expression in a society which is generation after generation getting more restricted and more confined. Unions and management! You're either one of the other-and you must be all the way for one or the other. There is no borderline!"
Brent relaxed, letting out a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I guess I get a little bitter. I read too much. I think too much. I'm sorry!"
Joyce smiled and said: "You really think that's so? Do you really believe that Hal and Roy and Deanna and the rest are doing all those things because of the reasons you gave?"
"Maybe not consciously. Maybe some aren't doing it for any reason except the fact that they are degenerate. But most of them are doing it because they are trying to find some outlet. Some momentary escape before going into the jungle of society.
"You can't go against the crowd-getting in their way-and get away with it for long. One time or another something will happen that will punish you for the mistake."
"Then you're arguing with yourself,' 'Joyce pointed out, laughingly. "You're saying that we can't do what we want to and get away with it."
"That's what I'm saying. There is a paradox in it all. A built-in paradox. So one time or another we reject everything-and we strike out helplessly, trying to find some kind of answer which will help. All I know is that I must do what is best for me at the time-as long as I follow one thing: never to cause harm to others, knowingly."
The conversation suddenly broke then; each became involved with their own thoughts and sat silently for a long time. Finally Brent started the engine and then pulled the car around in a U-turn and started back for the highway. Twenty minutes later he brought it to a stop at the girls' dormitory at Davidson College.
Just before he left Joyce at the door, Brent placed his hands on her shoulders and gently kissed her lips. "Mind if I call you tomorrow? Maybe we could get together?"
Joyce nodded, feeling a sharp thrill of excitement move through her body as she watched Brent return to his car and drive it away. Turning and walking into the dormitory she found herself experiencing a strange feeling of relief. The cloud of depression had left, leaving only a sense of happy excitement moving through her mind and emotions.
For the first time since she had come t o Davidson College she went to sleep happily.
Most of the people had left, and Roy was sitting with Hal. The girls were cleaning up and the two young men were drinking high b alls. The light happy mo od had b een b r ok en by one remark by Roy a few seconds before. He had told of a phone call which he had received from Mildred Jennings, in which she had told him that either he came to her or she'd do something drastic.
"What you think she means?" Hal finally asked, looking moodily into his half filled glass.
"Hell, who knows what an old broad, sex-hungry and doping it to escape, will do? All I know is that I started playing up to her just in case it happened that the dean got out of line. So-now things are getting a little tight. I don't like threats-but what can I do.
"The hag wants a little joy and excitement and it looks like-" Roy suddenly broke off. "You know-that letter I got from her ... I kept it-just in case it might come in handy. Maybe that would be something to pressure her with."
"What about the pills? You got her hooked-you should do something about it?" Hal pointed out.
"Oh, I'll keep her supplied-Just so that she keeps her mouth shut!" Roy suddenly laughed. "That kills me, though. If the Dean found out about me giving it to his old lady-he'd go through the roof!"
"And right through this one too!"
"I don't think so-" Roy was thoughtful for a moment and then added: "I wonder if it would be a good idea to just let her know that I kept the little note!"
The girls came in then, and the two men dropped the subject.
The dean knew his wife had always needed sex more than most women, and it was hard to keep up with her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The next morning Deanna asked Joyce, as they were getting dressed for breakfast, "What happened to you last night?"
"What do you mean?"
"Roy was pretty mad."
"Oh, that, he tried to make a pass-I blocked and he attempted to force the issue. Brent stopped him."
"Oh?" Deanna was quiet for a few minutes and then said: "You made an enemy of him!"
"So what?" Joyce demanded, arranging her blouse in her skirt.
"He can be pretty nasty; cause a lot of trouble for you."
"To hell with him!" Joyce snapped, beginning to comb her hair. "He's not the only one in the group. Brent seems to like me."
Deanna froze, her eyes flashed at the other girl and then she sighed out a hissing sound. "So much for Brent Jacobs!"
"What does that mean?" Joyce asked, turning and looking at the other girl.
"None of your business, honey?"
An ice developed and hardened between them. They didn't say anything more after that. Once Joyce was finished fixing herself up she left the room and headed for the dining hall. All through breakfast she kept thinking about what Brent had told her the night before. Some of what he had said made sense. Some was a lot of rationalization. .
Yet she couldn't help believing that maybe he had found the basic reason for most young people's rejection of social rules and laws-and maybe the exact reason she was finding herself drawn toward the group at the House. Later that day, while in English class, she began to have doubts again. When she was walking across the campus she passed Roy Griffin, but he didn't say anything. A little later she came across Hal Elliott. She was just stepping into the College Library when he called her aside.
"What you doing this evening?" he asked.
"I'm sorry, Hal, but I have some other arrangements.
A frown crossed his face as he stared down at Joyce. "What's with you? You've played it pretty cool with everybody at the House."
"I didn't mean I wasn't interested in going out with you-just that I was busy this evening," Joyce quickly assured him.
"Okay-what about Friday?"
"Fine!"
"Dinner-dancing?"
"Anything you want." Again Joyce damned herself for having said that. It was a leading statement, and from the expression on Hal's face she saw that he got the full implication of her words.
They stood there for a moment and then Hal said that he had to get going. Joyce walked to her next class, feeling a little confused about her actions and her words. All during the math class her mind was centered around what was happening to her at Davidson College. When she returned to the drom-itory she was tired and depressed.
Stepping into her room she flopped down on the bed and in a few moments was sleeping.
A hand shaking her shoulder woke Joyce. She jerked up, startled. "What?"
A dark-haired girl was leaning over the bed. "There's a guy downstairs waiting for you."
"What?" For a moment she didn't remember about her date with Brent, then suddenly memory jolted through her. "Oh, my God!
Could you do me a favor and tell him I'll be down in a few minutes.
Brent was waiting in the lounge, reading a magazine. As she walked up to him he looked up from the magazine and smiled. "I thought you weren't going to make it."
"I'm sorry, Brent-I was sleeping ... I hadn't meant to. I was so tired when I got back from classes."
"Forget it. What you want to do?"
"Why don't you show me around the country. I haven't seen much of it," she suggested.
Twenty minutes later they were driving along a highway, passing large farms which went off in both directions over rolling hills and low valleys.
"This is beautiful," Joyce sighed, looking at Brent.
"I have a place I think you'll like. A small little river with a few scattered trees around it. A quiet place-restful and ... well, you'll see."
"Don't you think it's a little late for a summer ... whatever you call it?"
"It's only six and it won't get dark until after eight. We'll stop at a place I know and have dinner-on the way back."
They drove for another ten minutes and then Brent turned the car down a dirt road and after a short while brought it to a stop. "We get out here, and walk a little. I hope you don't mind."
Joyce smiled warmly and then followed Brent out of the car. They walked several hundred yards down a narrow pathway and then suddenly they came to a group of trees, green and lovely looking. There was a little stream running through the trees and Brent led her there.
They walked to the little stream and then Brent sat down under a huge tree, pulling her next to him; but he didn't make any forward passes. Only held her hand gently in his.
"I come here every once in a while. It's restful and away from the rat race at college. And the House!"
For a little while neither of them spoke, then Joyce asked the question which was bothering her.
"You don't like the House, do you?"
"Like I told you-it's a place to escape. A place where we are able to do what we want. Regardless of what it might be. Maybe some of the things that are done there are a little-wild, but that doesn't make any difference.
The point is that we can do them with freedom. But let's not talk about that. There are other more important things to do besides talking."
Joyce felt it coming, and felt, also, a pang of regret, because she knew she desired Brent probably as much as he desired her. Yet she didn't feel it would be right to have any complications start then. If she really wanted to be more than just a casual date with him-a casual one night stand-then she had to play it carefully.
Brent looked deep into her eyes, and for a moment she was sure he would reach for her, sweeping her into his arms. Then the moment passed, and he relaxed. "You're quite a girl. Different from the rest."
"How's that?"
"I don't know. All I know is that I can't do what I came here to do!" Angrily Brent stood and walked a few steps from Joyce. "Don't get me wrong. You got me all tied up. I've not met a girl like you before-not for a long time at least. If ever." He was silent for a while and then finally turned and looked at her. "Let's get out of here!" He stepped forward and reached down, taking her hand.
"It's so beautiful," Joyce objected, suddenly really wanting to be held in his arms; not caring what it might cost her. There was something that drove her to wanting Brent more than any other man. Ever since that night that Roy Griffin had done something to her drink, fo cause her to want and need sex more than anything else in the world. But with the right man.
"I want to get out of this place!" Brent Exploded, pulling Joyce after him.
They walked back to the car and a little later were driving along the dirt road. Nothing was said about eating and nothing was said about what they were going to do for the rest of the evening. It was all too clear. Joyce knew that Brent couldn't wait to get rid of her, and even though she understood the reason for that, it angered her; angered her much more than she liked to admit. Mainly because she had wanted him to make love to her.
Less than an hour after they had walked to the little river, Brent dropped her at the dormitory and drove off, leaving her alone with her thoughts and her confusion and anger.
* * *
Doctor Jennings was walking in the night.
The heat of the argument which had just taken place between his wife that evening was still seething through him. All his life, with Mildred, there had never really been any secrets. Even her little affairs had come out one time or another. And he couldn't really blame her. Life hadn't been easy for her. Mildred had always needed sex much more than most women and it was more than difficult to keep up with her, with all his own personal problems and his own personal struggles to keep above the ever rising water of expensive living.
But this evening he had finally gotten the courage to ask her about the pills she had been taking for a long long time now. It had started out so casually that he couldn't-at the time-understand why she had jumped like she'd been shot. It was just after dinner and he had walked into the kitchen when she was taking one of the pills.
"What are those for?" he'd asked.
Mildred had jumped as if hit by a sledge hammer. "What do you mean?"
Her voice was so harsh that it startled and surprised him. "I was just asking."
"Well-it's nothing!" The change in her voice had been as startling as the anger she displayed a moment before. "What are you hiding, Milly?"
"I'm not hiding anything. What makes you think I'm hiding something?" she demanded defensively.
"Your attitude, that's all!"
"Well, damn it all, John-there's nothing wrong with my attitude. You come home with an angry face and haven't been-" With a sharp intake of breath Mildred had rushed past him and up to her bedroom.
It was the first really harsh words that had ever been exchanged between them. She had left the pills on the sink, and John Jennings stepped over and picked the little container up, opening it and smelling them. For a startled moment he looked at them and then felt a sickening feeling inside his gut. He didn't know much about narcotics, but he couldn't help guessing that these little pills might well be dope.
Now, walking along the dark street, he realized what he had to do.
For the past months, Mildred had been acting jumpy and strangely. Now he guessed what it might be. She was seeing somebody else-she had a lover. Anger surged up through him, tightening the muscles of his face. This time he couldn't be so quiet about the whole thing. He had forgiven her before
-but now a new element had been added.
A new and terrifying fact: whoever she was seeing was giving her narcotics. The next day he was going to see a detective friend he knew and arrange to have his wife watched for several days, until he discovered her lover-then the detective could carry things on from there.
Walking back to his house, John Jennings went to their home bar and fixed himself a drink. An hour later he went up to bed, slightly drunk.
"I think you're a little bitch in heat!" he told her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Brent drove to the House after dropping Joyce off at the dormitory. His mind was an angry nest of confusion. In one way he was damning himself for not having attempted to seduce Joyce. He was a stupid fool for that, yet he couldn't help himself. There was something about Joyce which had stopped him. He had known it was possible to have her-but hadn't been able to go through with it. For days now he had planned a gentle seduction for Joyce Hoffman.
It seemed strange to Brent, even though he was beginning to get used to the emotion, that he kept going to the House like a homing bee-unable to resist it, yet at the same time hating everything that it stood for.
Finally he pulled his car in the driveway and directed it into the parking space which was reserved for him. Cutting the engine and jumping out of the car, he moved quickly to the back door and into the long hallway which led to the play room. He need another drink.
He needed a woman, too. He hoped there was some free girl at the House this evening.
Stepping into the playroom, he looked quickly around. Several couples were scattered around the room. Two girls and one young man were standing at the bar. Brent made his way there and went around the counter and started fixing himself a drink. He was thinking about what a fool he must have made of himself with Joyce and didn't notice that one of the girls standing at the bar was Sally Bennet. Sally turned and looked at him, frowning. "What's with you?"
Brent looked up. He forced a smile, eyeing the fullness of her breasts. "Well, hello, Sally. I don't know how I could have missed you. Was thinking about classes, I guess."
That seemed to satisfy the girl for she smiled and then nodded toward her empty glass, saying: "How about fixing me something!"
"Sure thing, doll." He took her glass and as he was placing some ice cubes in it, he asked: "You coupled off this evening?"
For a moment Sally didn't answer him, then she said: "I guess not. Why not?"
Brent handed her the drink and then stepped around to her side. He placed a possessive hand on her waist and gently caressed. A little tremor was the response. Then suggestively he raised his fingers into the full inner curve of her huge breasts.
"Let's get the hell out of her!" he told her, taking hold of the girl's arm and leading her toward the door which led to the hallway.
They stepped into the upstairs hall and then into the first bedroom that was empty. Closing the door behind him, Brent turned to Sally and for a long moment stared boldly at her. He forced himself to be a little light-hearted, after taking another strong swallow of his drink.
"Well, what's for entertainment now?" he asked, innocently.
"What you think?" she demanded, pressing herself close to him and brushing his cheeks with her lips. He could feel the full pressure of her large breasts as they pushed against his chest. Her hips slid against his. Then she pulled away and stepped to the bed.
Sitting, she stared at him for a moment, then, smiling, she suddenly pulled off her sweater and threw it across the room. Her eyes gazed daringly up at him, challengingly. "What you think?" she asked again, moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue.
"I think you're a little bitch in heat!" he exploded.
Sally giggled, delightedly and reached her arms out toward him. "Come on-get the damned hell over here!"
Brent slowly moved forward and then leaned over Sally, pressing his lips to her soft giving ones. Her lips parted and her tongue surged demandingly into his mouth, as she slid her hands around his neck and forcefully pulled him down to her. In a few moments Brent had managed to take off her bra and was exploring the mountainous swells of flesh on her chest.
Sally squirmed and moaned under him, forcing his head deeper into her breasts and grinding her hips up against his. For a long time they explored each other's bodies and then finally when he knew he couldn't stand it any longer he forced down against her, and the thrusting final rhythms shot Brent over the peak of ecstasy.
Pure physical release and nothing more. For a long time afterwards he lay there next to Sally, thinking about what had happened and why he had done it. He was just about to get up and dress, when the woman edged toward him and her hands searched over his body.
He didn't want to indulge in sex play any more, but the way her fingers explored and caressed melted all resistance away, and he found himself enjoying her sex play. For a long time she worked over his body, kissing and caressing, clawing and biting and then finally she moved to him and after a moment they were once more squirming together until the volcano of passion erupted through them, leaving their bodies charred with sensual exhaustion.
It wasn't for more than half an hour that Brent moved from the bed, got dressed and walked out of the room, leaving the girl sleeping by herself. He didn't want to have anything to do with her. All he wanted was to get back to his apartment which Hal Elliott shared with him. He wanted to wipe away the inner confusion and sick disgust that he was feeling for himself.
You can escape so long, Brent, he thought bitterly, slipping in behind the wheel of his car. When you have run as far as you can-where then? A guy could run around and around chasing his tail and getting nowhere. For escape was simply escape and one time or another a person had to face reality or go over the edge of insanity. Sanity lay only in facing what the real world was like. And escape was doing the wrong thing!
He drove his car down the dark streets of the town, slowly, thinking, wondering, questioning himself about himself, but not finding the answer, because he wasn't ready to face the answer. He wasn't ready to stop running. And that was what kept him chained to the House; sex, booze.
Brent slowly pulled the car into his apartment garage and shut off the engine. He didn't move for a long time. There was that heavy depression working through him, and no matter what he did he couldn't erase it. At last he decided to give up for the evening. There were classes tomorrow and he had to go to work after school.
Getting out of the car, Brent walked up to the rooms he shared with Hal. Slipping into bed a little later, he tried to sleep, but instead he lay there thinking about himself and Joyce Hoffman. It was with Joyce focused before his mental eye that he finally went to sleep.
And that night he dreamed about Joyce and himself; dreams that terrified him because they involved marriage and family and all the civilized happiness which he had been so desperately trying to escape while at Davidson College.
Suddenly she wanted to be quickly taken-actually to be raped!
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Joyce Hoffman was enjoying her date with Hal Elliott. All through the evening she expected some sort of pass, yet Hal never once touched her, except to dance. The only contact was the casual contact of two bodies dancing; but nothing more.
It was when they were driving back from the country club that Hal turned his eyes from the road for an instant and asked: "Have you enjoyed yourself?" It wasn't the words that had any suggestive meaning, but rather the way he said them, as if he were gently asking her if there was anything that they hadn't done that she wanted to do. For a moment she was silent, long enough to think over his hidden, subtle, question.
"It's been a wonderful evening," she finally said. She was avoiding the question, regardless of the fact that she actually found herself not only desiring, but needing physical release with a man-any man.
There was a short silence and then Hal said: "I can't understand it. This is the first time I've gone out with a girl-for years-without having made a forward pass!"
The statement so startled Joyce that she found herself asking: "Why haven't you?"
Hal quickly assured her with: "I don't mean I didn't want to-it's just that for some reason-to hell with it!"
Suddenly without any warning, Hall pulled the car to the side of the road. Before Joyce could even guess what he had in mind, he reached for her and jerked her to him. She didn't even have any time to respond. Hal's lips covered hers with such a passion that she was momentarily numbed. Then his hands began searching over her body, around her back and then to her breasts, caressing and fondling.
"Please, Hal!" she moaned, struggling to be free of him. Excited pleasure burned through her at every contact that his body and hands made. She felt herself react violently as his lips ground into the white smoothness of her throat. "Oh, Hal, please!" she cried, pushing against him, vainly attempting to be free.
For a moment Hal stopped, freezing, not breathing. Then he slowly leaned away from her and gazed deep into her eyes. "I don't know what's with me-or with you. But this is just a bunch of crap!"
Joyce was too concerned with the situation to even notice the words he had used. "Please take me home!" she demanded, in a voice which was too shaky.
"What's with you?" Hal snapped angrily.
"What's wrong with you!" she quickly countered. "You act like a perfect gentleman and then-this brute stuff!"
Hal shook his head slowly from side to side, compressing his lips into a thin line. "I don't know what held me off so long this evening. After all you're quite a woman-I was a fool!" The conversation was apparently irritating him. For a moment longer he sat there and then he reached for Joyce once mo re, his strong hands clamping around her shoulders, squeezing brutally.
"Hal! Damn it all! Leave me alone!" Joyce cried angrily. Desperate fear was flushing through her body in terrifying waves. Then suddenly his lips were smothering onto hers and she felt her fear generate into something more horrible. The touch of him, the feel of his overpowering strength, his manly demanding attitude which was forcing her. Suddenly she didn't care and found her lips parting eagerly under his.
Their tongues lashed out at each other, moistly jerking in and out. Joyce felt herself go weak and a sudden flood of overpowering lust to flash through her.
"Oh, God!" she moaned, as their lips parted and he kissed her neck and throat. "God forgive me! Yes-hurry! Hurry!" Suddenly she wanted to be quickly taken-almost raped!
The idea of this brute strength surging through her made such terrible agonies of excitement and desire rip her whole body that she didn't care any more-and all she wanted and all she desired was that male form.
Abruptly Hall had pushed her down on the seat and then moved to her. How he had managed it, she never knew. She just floated on a tossing stormy sea of read passion, being pushed from one gigantically thrilling wave to another until finally she found herself straining up against him, moaning with such terrible force that she couldn't stand it.
For what seemed an aching eternity she waited in that peak of expectation-before the final burst of ecstasy flooded between them in one explosive tidal wave, breaking over their bodies and leaving them clutching desperately against one another for a long time, exhausted and unable to do anything except sob and gasp.
* * *
As Joyce lay in her bed feeling all the terrible guilt and agony of what had taken place a little less than an hour before, the thoughts and ideas which Brent Jacobs had expressed to her about the reasons for his being a part of the activities of the House, repeated themselves in her mind.
The world a trap in which every modern man and woman was held captive, squeezed by the restrictions of society's ideas of right and wrong and self-expression. Was that her reason for having allowed herself to get in such a situation? Was she really running from the fact that soon she would be out in that confining world of reality and be forced to live within its restrictions?
It was more than two hours later that she finally gave up thinking about it, exhausted by the whirl of her fencing thoughts which did battle with her sense of right and wrong. Finally, with exhaustion came the hopeless conclusion that there wasn't anything that she could do about it. For weeks now she had been struggling with it and the more she fought the deeper she had gotten herself in. The only thing left was to give up fighting. What must be-would be; and there probably wasn't anything that she could do to change it.
The next day she awoke with a restless sense of guilt, but managed to keep it locked down in a blocked up chamber of her mind. By the end of breakfast came a light-hearted sense of well-being. That afternoon she was looking forward to the date which Hal Elliott had made with her. She just refused to think about the rights and wrongs of what she was doing. At last she had managed to force all sense of conscious from her. From now on, Joyce realized, she would become a part of the gang!
Hal's lips covered hers-and she felt the searching probing of his tongue as it entered her mouth.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The room was silent when they stepped into it. A silence which was different than pure quiet. It was as if the world had folded away from them, leaving a sense of dream or unreality to take its place. They were on their own little planet of pleasure, about to escape into this new world with a wild abandon which seemed normal and right. Suddenly it all seemed to have fallen into place.
Hal closed the door and then smiled at Joyce. ' 'Want a drink?"
"Why not?" she offered light-heartedly, smiling and stepping to the bed and sitting down. "You know, it all seems so different than before. I don't know-but ... well, maybe that's part of it all?"
Hal didn't say anything to that, instead stepped over to a small cabinet at the other corner, turned on a radio and then pulled out a bottle from a shelf, glasses and then mixed a couple of highballs. "They're iceless, but I don't see what difference it makes."
As he stepped to Joyce's side and sat down, handing her one drink and sipping from the glass in his own hand, he stared strangely at her. "You know-I think you have changed."
"Maybe because of what happened-the other night-last night?" She paused in deep thought. "It doesn't really seem possible." Then after sipping her drink she inquired: "Tell me something about yourself, Hal. I don't know anything about you."
"There isn't much to tell, Joyce. I was in the service. Had my fun and my hell there. Then-afterwards I wantedto know what would happen with my life. A guy gets out of high school and doesn't know what to do. The service settled things a little for me. At last now I'm attempting to learn something-Business Administration. Maybe come to something big in a few years.
"I never will know unless I give it the old college try. So I came here! Met Roy in the first year. Last year we set things up here. Brent was an old friend from the same town I grew up in, and so when he decided it was college time I talked him into staying with me at the apartment."
"How come you didn't live here?" Joyce asked innocently.
Hal laughed. "That would have defeated the whole purpose of this place. Roy had the money for the 'Club House'. We decided to fix things up for a swinging joint, and this is the result."
There were several silent minutes as Joyce toyed with the idea of asking Hal why he had really had fixed up the place-what his reasons were. Then, after looking into his eyes, she realized that he wouldn't be able to give her that answer. Any more than she could really give the reason for her having finally quit fighting her desires and decided to play along with them.
For a moment, they were sitting silently and then suddenly Hal pulled her close, gently holding her in his arms. His lips covered her mouth. There was a wildly thrilling moment as they kissed, and then she found that Hal had somehow unclasped her bra during the embrace and then worked his hands around, under the clothing and caressed deep into her breasts. A gasp of surprise rushed from her lungs.
Slowly Hal leaned her down across the bed and began caressing and searching her body with his hands and lips. Then without warning he roughly pushed aside her dress and pulled her against him. In the next minutes Joyce felt the brute force of his body working savagely to hers. She found herself being whipped up through such a series of pleasure-pains that she wasn't even able to realize how brutal Hal's love-making was. All she knew was that she was thrashing on the bed under him and finally it was over in one explosive burst.
She lay there for a long time, unable to think and unable to feel anything except the exhausted agony of her body-every muscle hurt. Then slowly awareness seeped through her; awareness of the cruel demands of Hal; of the way he forced himself through the actions which had finally ended in the exciting pleasure of final union. And in the memory and knowledge came a little feeling inside her that choked in her throat. What was she letting herself become?
Then Hal was moving to her. His hands were caressing into her breasts once more. His fingers working the heat and desire burningly through her. And then she didn't care about anything except straining up against him, until they were once more joined in the throbbing thrash which was whipping them up to the high peak of ecstasy again.
Joyce had never felt such wonderful thrilling, such fantastic ecstasy as his mere touch excited.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Dr. Jennings looked at the private detective who had been recommended to him by the chief of police of Davidson City.
"I want this thing to be taken care of with-well, I want you to be sure that nobody knows that my wife is being watched, Mr. Thomas."
"Don't worry about anything. I've been in this business for years, and I haven't been spotted yet. As I take you, you want me to cover every person that might come to her-and then check on them. If they are the ones responsible for her getting the pills-I'm to let you know right away?"
"Check on them, first. Then let me know right away!"
"You know that I'll have to tell the police if I find that you're right?"
"I'm fully aware of that. But there isn't anything that can be done about it. All I ask is that you let me know first. If it has anything to do with the school-I'll see to it that action is taken right away."
Thomas stood and then nodded. "I'll see you in a few days and let you know all about it. Okay?"
"Fine!" Jennings stood and shook hands with the detective. "I just hope that I'm wrong-and we find out that there's nothing to worry about!"
A moment later the dean was alone in his room, brooding, and feeling like a bastard for hiring the detective, but there wasn't anything that he could have done except that, for that was the kind of man John Jennings was.
* * *
Joyce sat reading the letter from Danny with a sick feeling inside. She would have to write and tell him what was happening-in as far as it affected their relationship. Joyce knew that her feelings for Danny had been purely those of a young, inexperienced girl toward her first man. What had happened in the last weeks had made her realize this truth.
Danny had innocently told her that she shouldn't kiss any of the boys at college. Weeks before it might have seemed the normal thing for him to tell her. Now she saw it for the childish advise it was. Sex was here and you couldn't get rid of it by ignoring the fact. If the feelings were strong there wasn't really anything wrong with a relationship with a boy, as long as it meant something. Though she had let herself be had by a couple of guys who didn't mean much to her.
Hal was so strong and so savagely animal!
If only Brent were that way.
There was a knock on the door and a voice called that she had a phone call downstairs.
A few moments later she was talking t o Brent.
"I've been thinking a lot about you, Joyce," his voice said over the receiver. "I have to see you."
She didn't know whether to feel excited or annoyed. If he would only make love to her-and mean it-she could ignore the rest of the guys. She wanted that so very much. What startled Joyce was that she had so suddenly and casually come to that conclusion.
"What do you want?"
"Talk to you-I have to see you. How about tonight?"
"Okay-about seven-thirty-after dinner. I can skip studies."
"I'll be there. We can go for a ride."
Wishfully she wondered if it might lead to the same kind of ride that Hal had taken her on. Slowly hanging ip the receiver she returned to her room and picked up some of her homework. The rest of the afternoon she spent reading and studying. But her mind would wander once in a while, thinking about Brent, and then it would return reluctantly to the book.
* * *
Mr. Thomas was a dark shadow in the background of Mrs. Jennings' day. He moved in the wake of her activities, and she went to a hotel room, and a little later a young, good-looking man disappeared in the room. He managed to get a picture of the man. He waited for several hours and then the man left, followed in ten minutes by the woman. Thomas followed Mrs. Jennings, even though impulse told him it was the man he should follow. The picture would give him some help in discovering the man's identity. If he was a college student, it wouldn't be hard to find out his name.
Mrs. Jennings returned to her home and stayed there. Nobody came to visit her until Dr. Jennings came from work. Thomas left the house and then went to his own apartment and developed the picture.
* * *
Brent had driven here to the little river and parked. He didn't get out of the car. They sat there for a long time without saying anything. Finally Brent offered Joyce a cigarette. Lighted it and then lighted the one he had taken.
"It's a lovely evening," Joyce stated, in an attempted to start the conversation.
Brent just nodded, nervously. Took a drag of his cigarette. Silence. The minutes ticked by and Joyce felt the nervousness he was projecting.
"Joyce?"
The word startled her. "Yes, Brent?"
"There are ... so ... many things I want to tell you-but I don't know where to start."
"At the beginning?" she suggested.
"At the beginning," he repeated thoughtfully, as if worlds away. "Where wthe beginning. When I first met you? Or before that?
I don't know. Maybe I should just start talking-maybe that would be the best."
"Are you sure that's what you want to do?" Joyce asked, softly. Every nerve in her body cried for him to pull her into his arms. She wanted to feel the mannish softness of his lips crushing hers. She wanted his hands to explore her breasts, to smother her whole body with caresses. She wanted to feel his body moving down against her; becoming a part of her.
"Sometimes it's hard to tell a girl what you want to-maybe that's because you aren't quite sure of what you want to say." His eyes turned quickly toward Joyce. "Damn it all! This is all so blasted silly! I've seen you-only a few times-but I've found I think so much about you I feel I know you better than anybody on earth."
Joyce dropped her eyes, not knowing what to do or say.
"You meet somebody, and then all of a sudden you find yourself thinking about them, wondering about them-and what they do-and what ... well, damn it all-I can't stand it having you going out with other guys. I know-I don't have any right to you-I don't
-I haven't ... well, what I want to say is that
-could we see more of each other?"
"What's been stopping us?" Joyce asked, bewildered.
"Oh, that's not what I really meant. What I'm saying is that I'd like to take up all of your time-all of your thoughts and all of-I want you for myself. I don't know what it is I feel for you-its too soon to know such things ... just I find I want to be sure you aren't with any other man-that gauls me sick.
"Thinking about what Roy or Hal might do to you ... and not being able to stop them." He hesitated, obviously angry with himself. "Please forgive me-I'm acting like a high school kid. Forget it!"
"What if I don't want to?" she asked in a small voice.
"Now what does that mean?"
"Maybe I'm glad you said it." Joyce was surprised by her own words.
Brent's hand reached out for her. "You mean that?"
"I mean it!" Joyce announced, suddenly happy and glad to say it to Brent. "And don't ask me why! Just that it's-maybe because we both seem to care. The other's don't care about what they're doing. They don't care about ... rights and wrongs-maybe that's it!"
Brent nodded, but his face was broken in a wide smile. Then suddenly he reached anxiously for Joyce and pulled her against him. She felt excitement race through her. His lips crushed to her lips, and the kiss was long and lingering, without being sensual.
It seemed as if she had been lifted onto a white fleecy cloud, nothing seemed to matter any more. Nothing was important except being held by Brent. Why, she didn't care. It wasn't important to understand why she felt the way she did. It couldn't be love, because love had to be so complete, it had to be something which grew with time-but this was surely the beginning of that affection.
It was too wonderful to be taking the time to wonder about anything. Just thrill to the moment; just thrill to the nearness of Brent, whom she was deeply attracted to.
They held to each other for along time and then Brent gently moved her away. His eyes stared deeply into hers.
"How many nights a week are you free? Just tell me-and I'll be there to take up all your time!" He laughed happily.
"Just call every day." Joyce murmured happily moving closer to Brent. She wanted to be held again, she wanted to be made love to by the only person in the group that had meant anything at all to her. How silly for her not to have realized it sooner! How impossible it seemed for her not to know how desperately she was attracted to Brent Jacobs.
Their lips met again and this time it was a wild, savagely demanding kiss. Their tongues reached out to meet each other, their bodies pressed tightly together and she was suddenly aware of his hand fondling, caressing, thrilling. She had never felt such wildness overcome her. It was different from the other men in her life.
Danny had been just a childish exploration of what sex was like. Roy merely a drugged physical need; dirty and disgusting; degenerate. Hal, a physical, animal need without any emotional wanting.
But Brent was physical and emotional-maybe even spiritual, she realized, as they slid down full length in the car.
Her mind cried that this wasn't the right place for such a thing, but her emotions and body overruled the reluctance and she eagerly opened herself to his caresses, exciting as he caressed off her sweater, as his hands moved under her bra and touched, for the first time, the full softness of her breasts.
Joyce had never felt such fantastic thrilling, such wonderful ecstasy which his mere touch excited. Then suddenly he pushed her away. Breathing hard, he managed to say: "Not here-not in a car. Tomorrow night at the house-after school. Nobody will be there. We'll be alone-and do it the right way!"
She wanted to tell him to go on, to continue to give her all the physical love his body could give-but she was glad that he had stopped them. It became cheapened. They had waited this long-they could wait another day.
The two of them sat in the car and talked lovers talk for a long time, then finally, they realized the late hour and started the car and headed for her dormitory.
"Oh, I'm in love!" she murmured to herself as they pulled up in front of the dormitory. He held her in his arms again and Joyce found herself wanting to start and never stop. The kiss was short and full of deep affection.
"I'll see you tomorrow at school-at the library we can meet-three?" Brent offered.
"Yes-oh, yes!" she cried happily, getting out of the car and blowing him a kiss. She watched as he drove away and then turned and happily walked into the building.
"Pull your clothes off, you slut!" Roy ordered nastily.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Deanna Brown stared coldly at Joyce as she came into their room. "I see you've been out with-Brent!" she observed, nastily.
"How'd you know?" Joyce didn't even notice that the other girl's voice was so chilly. She was still too high with excitement.
"Things get around."
Deanna was quiet while Joyce started getting undressed. After Joyce had put on her nightgown, she asked: "How was he?"
The tone of Deanna's voice cut through her excitement. "What are you talking about?" She froze, looking at the taller girl.
"Oh, things get around."
"What things?"
"It's all over that you and Brent are . ... well, more than just casually interested in one another!"
"How could it be! Just this evening I found out!"
"Don't be alarmed!" Deanna announced, bitingly. "That's the way it always is." She hesitated for a moment and then taking a cigarette from the pack on the nightstand she I lighted it and then breathed in a deep drag be-for continuing. "He's a nice boy."
"I don't know what you are talking about, Dee."
"Oh, just that he courts a girl real hot and then picks up with another. Terribly fast!" Deanna's pretty features hardened slightly. "I was going out with him for several weeks now and...."
"I didn't even know that!" Joyce cried, feeling her chest clamp hard and tight. Emotion tried to choke in her, but she forced it to be quiet.
"Oh, you have to watch out about these guys-they'll do anything to get into a girl's pants. Brent's just as bad as the rest-if not worse! Because he tries to play the understanding 'square'!"
Joyce didn't feel like talking after that. She felt sick inside; sick of herself and sick of how she had let Brent con her the way he had done, She didn't notice the pleased, almost evil expression on Deanna's face. Joyce didn't notice anything after that.
Slipping under the covers she closed her eyes and tried to sleep. Deanna read for a long time and then finally turned out the light. In the darkness rest started to slowly ebb over Joyce. It seemed as if she floated on silence for a long time, dark, restful, silence, and when reality slipped away she was never to be sure.
Reality faded into fantasy, and she discovered herself in the House. She was standing in one of the bedrooms, and Hal and Roy and Brent were standing before her, naked and lustful. Their mouths were open and their eyes savagely eager.
"Pull your clothes off, you slut!" Roy ordered nastily.
"Yeah, get them off, so we can see your ugly body!" Hal demanded.
"A real good tumble-and she'll swallow any line," Brent laughed, hand fists balled on his hips. He glared at her, smilingly. "She takes Roy's joy-pills, she takes Hal's rape-but and then to really set things up-she swallows my con act! She's a real stupid slut!"
They all laughed at her, doubling over, the sound from their lips like explosions to her ears.
"Please! Please! You don't understand! It wasn't like that at all!" Joyce cried, pleadingly.
"Take off your clothes!" Roy cursed, stepping forward.
Then suddenly all three were ripping her clothing off, and then she was lying on the bed, one pair of hands holding down one arm, and another pair holding down the other. Then Brent was slipping on top of her, laughing, tauntingly telling her how wild he was for her, laughing all the time as his body started surging violently downwards.
Joyce jerked up in bed, wide awake. The morning sun was showing through the window. Her body was bathed in sweat. For a long time she couldn't get that terrible nightmare from her mind and then finally its reality slipped away and dimmed. Slowly she slipped out of bed and went into the bathroom. She felt depressed by the dream.
The mood would pass, she was sure of that. It had to pass, she told herself as she slipped under the shower and started cleaning herself. Thoughts of Brent entered her mind as she felt the soothing spray of the shower water on her body. She wondered vaguely what it might be like to have him in the shower with her.
And then guilt followed that thought. What had made her think that?
For several moments Joyce was in deep thought and then finally shrugged her shoulders as she decided to stop trying to worry about things and enjoy life as it was made to be enjoyed. Suddenly the thought excited her.
"What's wrong with you, Joyce!" she said aloud. All at once she had made a dramatic decision. Live for the joy of living-and to hell with the world! This was her only chance to really swing.
Now, for the first time since she had come to Davidson College she realized what the House was really all about. The one chance to do what you damned pleased! If you wanted a sex orgy, then that was what you would get! If you wanted a drinking orgy or a dope orgy, then that was what you took! She was going to live! Really live-the fullest, wildest and most sensual life she could. To hell with just Brent! She would take on all that came. This one last College kick!
* * *
The dean of Davidson College looked at the photograph and grunted, angrily.
"That's Roy Griffin," he announced with a feeling of mixed emotions. He had known Roy's father years before-they were good friends. So what was he to do about this? Anger raced through his mind and then he groaned inwardly.
"You sure about this?"
"Dead sure!"
John Jennings felt strangely detached. Suddenly, much to his amazement, he didn't care. It seemed as if the world had shattered around him, destroying itself, and he couldn't care in the least. His whole mental attitude was simply: so that's the way it is!
"What now?" the Dean inquired.
"Investigate Mr. Roy Griffin," Mr. Thomas answered.
"What then?"
"That depends on what I find out."
As Mr. Thomas left the office, the dean felt a mixture of emotions rushing through him.
He'd wanted to check out the House for many months. But there was a strong custom at the college which said that you left the students alone for their own entertainment, as long as no complaint had been made-and as long as the college leaders were involved. Roy Griffin was one of the college social leaders. Hal Elliott was the sports leader. Deanna Brown had her fingers in every sports and social activity in the school. She was also secretary of the student body.
You also didn't attempt to insult the children of parents who were known to give a lot of money to the college, and that included Roy Griffin. But things were beyond such social consideration, now. And Dr. Jennings could be a very vengeful man, if necessary.
An inner excitement raced through her, with the thought of completely giving her body to an all-out orgy!
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The day dragged for Joyce, each class blending meaninglessly into the next like an endless mardi gras, blurring before her vision, because the confusion in her mind was still shipping storm-like, smashing her convictions from wanting to run from what she was beginning to become, and then wanting to find that escape which the House offered each member of the private club-complete sensual and emotional and mental escape. Freedom from the tight restrictions of social life which made up rules which no normal person could possibly follow, and could never break without deep feelings of guilt.
Then after school she met Brent Jacobs and was driven to the House.
The place was quiet this time of the afternoon and they were alone in their little make-believe world.
"Want a drink?" Brent offered as they stepped into the playroom.
Joyce hesitated and then shrugged her shoulders. Play it the way you're supposed to play it! her mind warned. A few drinks and then they could go up to the bedroom and have the physical battle of their bodies and desires and lusts. Both in that state of utter and complete escape.
If this is what you want, Brent Jacobs, she furiously told herself, then this is the thing you'll get! What made her sick was that he had felt it necessary to lie to her in order to use her body. It made the whole thing even cheaper than it was.
Stop that! her mind screamed as he handed a drink over the small bar. "Thanks-I suddenly realize I could actually use one of these!"
"I've thought about you all day, Joyce," Brent announced, stepping around the bar and sitting next to her. His eyes caught the sight of her beautifully tapered legs. "I've never met a girl like you before!"
Joyce looked evenly at him, forcing down the inner annoyance at his words and attitude. "Brent-I hear that you go after all your girls with a slick line. Why not cut it out with me?"
For a moment Brent didn't say anything, and then his eyes seemed to take in the full meaning of her words. "What are you talking about?"
"You don't have to hand out a line to get me into bed with you. I'm one of the gang! That's what." She took a strong swallow of her drink. It burned down her throat. Brent had made it strong, and she was glad for that. "After all, what's wrong with a little sex now and then-kicks! That's what we're all here for!"
"What are you telling me?" Brent demanded in a puzzled voice, staring at her in amazement.
"Kick! That's what. This is a House of kicks. Why shouldn't we just cut out the small talk and enjoy this for what it is! Just a sexual relation. You can talk truthfully to me. After all, I've wanted you for your body-nothing more!"
"Okay-to kicks, then!" Brent saluted, tapping his glass to hers.
"You're a good ... bed pal!" Joyce managed to force herself to say. Once it was out she felt a sudden release, a sudden wildness and boldness. Brazenly she reached down to Brent's leg and searched caressingly. He merely tensed and then finished his drink.
"Let's go up to the room!" he managed to choke out in an emotional voice.
"I was wondering when you would get around to that! "Joyce laughed. It was a forced sound, but she couldn't help that. An inner excitement was racing through her at the thought of completely giving her body with the full idea of an orgy. For the first time she planned on doing it over and over-without stopping, until all that was left of the fear-filled Joyce Hoffman was the passion and lust.
They refilled their glasses and then went up to one of the bedrooms. Once the door was shut behind them, Joyce turned brazenly toward Brent, reaching out her arms for him.
"Make me feel all woman!" she murmured as they closed tightly together.
Brent tensed against her and then relaxed as she worked her hips against his.
"Hey!" Brent exclaimed, startled by her action. "I didn't-"
"Be quiet!" she sighed, stepping away and pulling off her sweater and throwing it across the room. Quickly her bra followed.
"Make me scream in agony and pleasure! Make me wild! I want the pleasure which a man can give me-any man can give me!"
Brent stared at her strangely, as if seeing Joyce for the first time.
"Hurry! I don't want to wait all day!" she ordered, moving to the bed. As he stared at her, Joyce removed her skirt and then lay full length on the bed, gazing sensuously at him, between half-lidded eyes.
Brent slowly began moving, his fingers nervously unbuttoning his bright blue shirt. His eyes were frozen to her full breasts. Moments later his pants slipped to the floor, and he moved toward her. "You're different!"
"Not really," she murmured, as his hands gently caressed her stomach. "You're seeing the real me!"
A sigh broke from her lips and she reached her hand up around his neck, drawing his head down toward her breasts.
Pleasure blasted through her body and complete savage animal desired captured all thought. She ground her hips up against his.
This was living, her mind screamed in excitement. This was pure and complete escape from the world of social and moral restrictions which choked everybody from the time they were born to the time they died!
"Now!" lips trembled with excitement, pleading. "Now!"
He didn't need any second offer. She felt him with an eagerness her body embraced his maleness. A moan of insane pleasure burst from her lips as the rhythms of their bodies blended in their oneness. She found her mind screaming out against the ecstasy which he was giving her, and then suddenly it was over and they lay, clutching at one another, breathing hard. The violence of their effort had left them exhausted.
It was a long time before Brent moved from Joyce.
"You're quite a woman," Brent managed to announce, sitting up, and gazing down at her. "I don't know quite what to make of you."
"You're quite a man!" she murmured in a pleasure filled voice. "I wanted you at the first-I could never understand why you waited so long!"
"I thought that you were different." There was a note of regret to his words.
"How's that?" Joyce asked.
"Well, I thought you were different from the rest. That you were a little afraid-shy-that this was something all new to you. Even last night, after we made love, I still thought you were different."
"I'm not?"
"Yes-but in another way than I thought. You're wild!" Still his words were heavy with a light disappointment and amazement.
"Let's not talk!" she suggested. "I don't want to talk."
Joyce lay there for a moment, realizing now that she loved Brent. She loved him in a way that she never knew it was possible to love. If it was only for a moment or for ever she didn't know. And with that knowledge came the return of guilt and shame. And a sense of regret and foolishness. She had come this afternoon to cheapen herself in his eyes, to shock him, to hurt him. She realized this now-too late. She had managed to do just that and how he would think of her just as another slut; another cheap bed partner.
"Brent?"
"Yes?"
"Last night-what did you really mean?" Joyce asked, desperately wanting to recapture what they had had. Or what she had believed they had the evening before.
"I meant what I said-then."
"What if I was still the same girl?"
"You are...." but his words had no conviction. She realized that she had made her point all to clear to him. It was over, now. And probably she'd never be able to recapture what had been.
Joyce was aware of Brent's hands reaching out for her breasts, and then it started all over again. Such caressing as she had never known before!
Their lips met as he surged down to her and became one with her body. She was being raised upon an ocean of pleasure which waved over her again and again, then burst with volcanic force to bathe and drown all awareness.
Dimly she was conscious of a doorbell ringing in the distance, but it didn't make much impression on her mind.
"What's that?" Brent's voice questioned close to her. Then she heard movement.
"Get dressed!" Brent ordered. She heard movement and then footsteps as Brent left the room.
Joyce lay there not moving, wondering what it was all about. She listened while Brent rushed downstairs and then down the hall to the front door. She heard voices, but couldn't make out what they said.
Then there were footsteps. It didn't occur to Joyce to cover herself. She was still too mentally dazed by all that had happened.
It wasn't until she realized it the footsteps were of more than one person that she was startled out of her mental daze. Hurriedly she leaped from the bed, rushing toward the small bathroom. She was just at the door when the police officers and Brent came into the room.
The police couldn't touch Brent or herself, Joyce told herself-because what they had done in private was their own business.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Joyce didn't know how long she had been in the police station. Brent had been called in for questioning. They had picked up Roy Griffin and Hal Elliott. But she hardly noticed these activities. Her mind was in a trapped world of horror all its own. What were her parents going to say when they found about all this? What would they do? What shame she had given them!
What could she tell them? What reason would sound logical and acceptable to them. They wouldn't be able to understand how a girl will want to find some haven, some escape from the restrictions which society had put on her. It would be beyond their old-fashioned ideas. The shame would be theirs.
Vaguely she was aware of a female voice addressing her. Slowly Joyce raised her eyes.
Deanna Brown was standing in front of her, the most evil expression on her face.
"You bitch!" she whispered. "Now look what you've got us into!"
"I didn't have anything to do with it! "Joyce cried.
"If you'd left Brent alone! But you had to have them all! You had to take him-too."
"What are you talking about?" Joyce cried, startled.
"If he hadn't been so interested in you-this might not have happened!"
"What makes you say that?"
"You wouldn't have been there-and wouldn't have blabbed to the police!" Contempt was in Deanna's voice; open hatred.
"I didn't say anything. They haven't even questioned me. They just brought Brent and myself down here."
Deanna's face crumbled, terrified. "Then Brent-no! He wouldn't talk ... then what happened?" Deanna's whole personality changed. She sat down next to Joyce. "I thought it had to be your fault. I'm sorry.
"Roy's been picked up ... so has Hal."
"Oh, no!" Deanna's face went white and she was suddenly silent.
Joyce was glad for the silence. She didn't want to talk. She didn't care about anything, now that she had managed to really have made a complete slut out of herself. Brent wouldn't have much use for her, the way she had acted.
Then Joyce reconsidered. What had she really done that was so horrible. She was legally old enough to have an affair with a man; and all she'd done was prove to the man she was woman enough to be worthy of him.
Joyce bathed in that thought for a long time, enjoying it, and then the cruel reality of where she was jarred it away. There wasn't anybody to blame but herself. She was alone. Brent-even if he was still interested in her-would be in trouble enough for him to handle. He wouldn't have time for taking care of her-even if he wanted to.
"Miss Hoffman, would you come with me?" a female officer asked, stepping up to Joyce. The hard features of the policewoman did nothing to relieve the fear in her mind.
Joyce stood and followed the woman into a small room.
"Wait here."
She waited for about fifteen minutes and then three men came in.
"I'm Lieutenant Denton. I justwantto ask you a few questions." He paused and then said: "Relax-if everything checks out . ... there's nothing to be afraid of. You're over eighteen?"
"Yes-well over."
"Could you tell me something about the activity at the House?"
"I don't know much. I just came to college this year-and I was only there a few-"
"Yes-that's what Mr. Jacobs told me. You didn't know about the wild parties-or the narcotics?"
"What?" Joyce cried, startled. She had known about them, but was surprised they did.
"That's why we came there this afternoon. We found some. I'll have the doctor check you and if you're clean there's nothing to worry about. All I want to know is just your connection. And any information that you might have learned about the House."
Joyce sat there for a little while and tried to think of what she should say. This was the moment where she had to decide on which side of life she wanted to tread. Ever since she had come to Davidson College her whole desire had been to become part of the "gang"-an important member of the college and the social activities.
She had been accepted by the House gang.
She had come to the conclusion that what they were trying to do was right. And in many ways it was right. Adults should be. able to do what they wanted. They should be. able to pick their own form of kicks. And all the members of the House were, as far as she knew, adults in the legal sense. The men were over twenty-one and the girls always over eighteen. That was the legal age for drinking and sexual relations in this state.
Legally they couldn't touch them on this. The state recognized prostitution-and so they couldn't say anything about the moral state of their activities. Nobody had sold themselves. And they couldn't touch Brent or herself, because what the two of them had done in private was their own business. It was just messy-that was all.
"They had parties-and that's all I really know about it," Joyce told them, hoping that they wouldn't ask more about the details of the parties.
Lieutenant Denton nodded and then added: "I understand that you and Mr. Brent are engaged."
Joyce managed to hold back her surprise. She was too tired to do more than just nod. Brent had for some reason said that and she had to back him up on it. Joyce suddenly realized that it had been done to protect herself. Sudden joy raced through her at the realization.
The next questions were asked automatically and she didn't even hear them or the answers. The world had stopped meaning anything to her. When the man was finished he told the other two men to leave and then h e turned to Joyce.
"Miss Hoffman, I want you to understand something ... you were just lucky this time. Something like this can do a lot of harm to your future. If you'd been under eighteen, Brent Jacobs would be facing a long jail term.
"But that's beside the point. What went on in the House is something which will have to be handled by the D.A. The ringleaders, as I understand it, are Roy Griffin and Hal Elliott. For possession of narcotics it will go pretty hard on them. The owner of the building will be notified and I imagine this will end the activities.
"What the college will do about you and the others who were involved, I don't know. Dr. Jennings is quite upset about this whole thing-it could have cost him his job. You're a young girl-and by simply looking for kicks you can get yourself in a lot of trouble which could last you the rest of your life. I just want you to know one thing: if it weren't for the fact that Roy and Hal pretty much told of everything and took the blame, it might have gone hard on you ... and Mr. Jacobs. If it turns out that they were lying-you'll still be on call ... if you try to leave the state you'll be brought back by force.
"I've been asked by Dr. Jennings to have you and any others whom we might not hold here, to report to his office tomorrow morning at 9:30. Since this is a college matter-as to your connection with any activities with the House members-it will be put up to the dean to care for any action that might be taken."
The man's hard face softened slightly and his eyes looked slightly sad. "If you were my daughter-I'd tell you just this: be careful about who you run around with. You don't have to be seeking out kicks and thrills just to be popular!"
He paused and then finished with: "Just be careful in the future. You can go now, back to your room. Mr. Brent is waiting for you outside. He said he would drive you home."
Joyce didn't know what to say. Her whole being wanted to shout happily, scream its relief. She wasn't out of the hot situation, but at least things could have been a hell of a lot worse. If nothing else, she had learned a lesson.
Stepping from the room she saw Brent standing nervously. He rushed toward her and then they walked out of the police station.
"A thing like this could ruin a college like Davidson...!"
CHAPTER NINETEEN
When they were in the car, Joyce turned to Brent, sudden reaction shaking her nerves. "What happens now?" she cried, terrified.
"Nothing-so I understand. I told them that we were engaged, just to save your face. They couldn't touch you too hard, if you were giving out to the man you planned to marry." Brent's voice was dreamy as he spoke about it. He started the engine.
"But aren't they going to-"
"The House is finished. They questioned me about it, but I told them I knew nothing. They got Roy and Hal-and I don't know exactly how they found out about it all ... there was something about Dr. Jennings' wife. I know that Roy was seeing her-and ... well, its a messy story. I kept clear of it as much as possible. Roy and Hal were responsible." Brent started the car down the road and was silent for a long time. "I feel like a heel!"
"Why?" Joyce asked, dully.
"It was Roy's and Hal's idea and their House ... but we were all responsible. All of us that went there-even if we didn't know about what happened. I knew most of it all. I was just as much a part as any-yet I'm off the hook. I don't know how that is really fair. Why should they be the ones who get the knife-and we get clean?"
They didn't say anything all the way to the dormitory. Brent stopped the car outside and they sat there for a little while. "We're supposed to report to Dean Jennings' office in the morning. That's probably when we get the ax! I'll pick you up:"
Joyce nodded and then bit her lower lip as tears began to rush from her eyes. Suddenly Brent had pulled her into his arms.
"It's all right, Joyce. It's all right!"
"I feel terrible-so cheap. I never did those things before." Joyce sobbed on his shoulder.
"I knew. I knew you weren't like the rest-you couldn't be. You have something about the way you are-the way you act-the way you look. You're something special. And I guess that's what I saw in you-felt in you. You weren't like the rest. You cared. The other's didn't."
They held close for a long time and then finally Joyce felt his lips move to hers and the kiss was long and gentle, full of tenderness. Then she slipped from the car. Moments later she was in her room.
Dr. John Jennings looked at them from across his large desk. His features were hard and set, his eyes dark and angry.
Joyce and Brent sat nervously, each trying to hide their fear and guilt.
"I've called you two in because of your background and because of the fact that neither of you were directly involved with the organization of the House." Jennings paused and then continued, "As for the other students involved the less said the better. A thing like this could ruin a college like Davidson. Luckily for you two, there isn't going to be any action taken against you by the law. The school would rather keep things quiet.
"This has to be handled much like Germany was handled after the war. The people of Germany weren't directly responsible for what the government had done. They went along-as most people do-and the government was responsible for the crimes committed. In your case-the House-it was Roy Griffin and Hal Elliott who started the thing-others went along. Their heads will fall.
First of all they're expelled from the school. The law will take action about their legal crimes, including narcotics, and other charges which will be brought against them. They'll be an example. As for you two-since you were discovered in the House committing an immoral act-regardless of the fact that you are engaged-we have to take some action.
"The only thing that can be done is to put the two of you on probation and restrict your activities to the college campus for three months." The dean's eyes looked dead for a moment and then he finished with: "I just hope that this will serve as a lesson to the two of you. If anything further happens along these lines you'll both be expelled. Is that clear?"
The two of them nodded.
"Okay, you may go. And just keep in line. We can't afford to have any scandal-just be glad for that!"
The dean stood and they followed his example. After a moment Brent turned to Joyce and then they left the office. Once outside Brent took hold of Joyce's hand and looked into her eyes.
"It looks like we're engaged-if we want to be or not!" He laughed nervously.
Joyce felt her cheeks flush with a mixture of excitement and embarrassment.
"Want to try it out for size?" Brent asked.
"What?" Joyce demanded, wanting him to put it into words.
"This engagement business. I know it's a little sudden-but it's better than going steady-like the high school kids do-and its not really binding-unless we want it to be."
Joyce knew the answer to that. She wanted to make it real. She wanted to try it out. There wasn't anything to lose, and there was everything to gain by it. She knew she loved him-at least for the moment.
"Okay, Brent-let's try it out for size!" She laughed, happily. "But you'll have to mark the white line! You have to understand that. Study hard-and none of these wild nights out with the gang!"
"Already a wife-and we're only on a trial basis!" Brent laughed back in a contented voice. "I guess I really got myself into something!"
"You sure did!" Joyce told him seriously. And she planned on making it stick.
