"I'll tell you what, Val, I'll undress and get in the tub with you."
"Oh ... good. I'll feel better, as I can't help feeling funny, being naked like this while you have your clothes on."
With trembling hands Brenda took off her clothes. She saw Valerie's eyes dart to her slim loins and then look quickly away. Drawing a breath, she got into the tub, lowering herself behind Valerie.
"Pass me the soap," she breathed, her flesh burning where it touched Valerie.
Before she applied the soap to the smooth surface of Valerie's back Brenda impulsively pressed her lips to the hollow between Valerie's shoulders, and she felt Valerie shiver as though from a chill.
"You've got a lovely back," Brenda whispered.
While Valerie sat submissively, her face flushed with pleasure, Brenda used the bar of soap with vigor, laving her back from the nape of her neck to the end of her spine.
"Okay, now let yourself go all limp so I can do you all over, Val," she said presently. "You know, droop like a soggy dishrag."
Valerie laughed and went flaccid in Brenda's arms.
With soaring excitement Brenda shifted her this way and that, scrubbing vigorously. Valerie's face grew extremely flushed, high color playing in her cheeks with every breath she took, and her eyes closed halfway and seemed to glaze over. In a burst of sheer exultance Brenda moved her free hand over the redhead's breasts, briefly squeezing the hard little points.
"Isn't this much better than scrubbing yourself?" she murmured.
Valerie nodded, but said nothing.
"I knew you'd like it, Val." Brenda wraped her arms playfully around Valerie's small waist. "I told you that."
She tried to sound casual and natural about it, but could feel the sharp desire affecting her voice. The sharp desire that made her want to kiss Valerie's parted lips, now, this moment....
CHAPTER ONE
"Have you ever gone 'all the way', Sharon?" asked Barbara suddenly and quite frankly, that warm June Thursday afternoon.
They were sitting on the davenport in Barbara's own home. It was small but clean and tidy and comfortable. Barbara lived with her divorced mother, who was a saleslady at Tammy's Dress Shop, a job Mrs. Zarett had acquired shortly after they moved into Ridgedale two weeks ago.
Only two weeks in town, but already Barbara Zarett had the local Lotharios buzzing around her like bees around golden honey. Filled with sharp curiosity, Sharon Coe had decided to find out what the new girl was really like. Although she suspected the girl probably thrived on attracting men. The opportunity presented itself in Lorry's Ice Cream Parlor, where the strikingly pretty blonde had warmly welcomed Sharon's bid for her friendship, evidently glad to make new friends, male and female. Subsequently Barbara suggested that they spend the rest of the afternoon together at her new home and Sharon had readily assented.
And so here they now were, sitting and conversing in the living room, a small breeze ruffling the window curtains.
The first thing Sharon learned about Barbara was that the tall shapely blonde didn't have to be asked twice to talk about men. And listening to her, Sharon had perceived that this girl had certainly been around. She felt a touch of envy. She didn't think she could stand to hear any more when Barbara finally paused.
Now she blushed at Barbara's sudden blunt question, the dark red color flaming up her neck and into her cheeks. She swallowed.
"No," she answered, and it came out like a croak. She cleared her throat self-consciously. "No, I never have, Barbara."
The blonde stared at her, hard. "You're still a virgin?" She sounded skeptical. "Look, Sharon, I didn't try to hide the fact that I'm not, so I don't want you lying to me...."
Barbara's shrewd eyes probed hers for another moment, then she nodded, apparently satisfied that Sharon was being truthful.
"Well," she said. "Well, there's nothing wrong with your still being a virgin, Sharon-so long as you don't intend to stay that way for much longer."
Her blush burning hotter, Sharon looked away from Barbara in mingled confusion and embarrassment.
The blonde touched her arm. "Because it's more than high time you got popped, Sharon, and you'll be better off for it, believe me."
Sharon shook her head slightly, fumbled. "I...." she said. She tongued her rather dry lips nervously. "I don't know. I mean, well, a girl is supposed to wait until she's married ... "
"What for?" Barbara retorted. "Don't tell me you're bugged about that old-fashioned jazz. If so, you best wise up, doll."
Sharon said weakly, "It's just that I thought it's better to wait until I get married."
Barbara made a derisive noise in her throat.
"You mean saving it for the guy you marry, huh?" she jeered. "Oh, Christ! Listen, I'll tell you something. Saving it for the guy you marry can be the worst mistake in your life."
Sharon looked at her through eyes that were suddenly wide. "What do you mean, Barbara?"
"Waiting until you're married and then finding out that you and the guy aren't sexually suited to each other, that's what I mean. Think of the hellish consequences, if you were to find out a terrible thing like that, Sharon. Wouldn't it be the worst kind of mistake in your life, your being married to a man who doesn't sexually suit you? Oh, would you be miserable, and I mean downright miserable-God!"
Her voice so low that she could barely hear herself, Sharon murmured, "I-I never considered a thing like that."
"Time you did, then," Barbara advised emphatically.
Sharon gave a slow nod of her head. "I guess so ... "
The blonde leaned toward her. "Listen to me, Sharon," she said, her blue eyes boring into Sharon's eyes. "Experience and only experience will keep you from making that kind of awful mistake. Because only experience can teach you how to satisfy a man and be satisfied fully by him. Like they say, experience is the best teacher. So wise up. These are modern times, Sharon. Sleeping with someone you like is a natural, normal thing. Everybody else does it. Hell, nature made us that way and intended us to do it! "
Sharon stammered, "But-but what if I were to do it and get pregnant?"
Barbara groaned, "Oh, honey. Listen, only girls who are jerks get themselves knocked up."
A rising throb of excitement made Sharon's throat tighten as she thought of the countless times she had wondered what it would be like, doing the sex act with a fellow, how it would actually feel. The pounding of the pulses at the base of her throat almost choked her as she thought of the times she had tried to imagine a guy having intercourse with her. Her secret experiments with her own body had, she be lieved, only given her an inkling as to what to expect in the way of mounting physical pleasure that came of doing the sex act with a guy. Was it truly the thrill of thrills?
She blurted, "What's it like, Barbara?"
The blonde girl dissolved into mellow laughter. Then her highly expressive mouth formed a soft O and her eyes rolled in her pretty head. "Exquisite," she said. "Simply exquisite. And the more you do it with someone the better it feels."
"But-but what about the first time?" Sharon wanted to know.
"You mean about how much it's supposed to hurt a girl the first time? Sharon, that's the bunk! Sure, there's pain at the start, but it's brief, lasts only a moment. Let me tell you how it was with me the first time."
Barbara leaned closer and lowered her voice. "I was fifteen at the time," she said confidentially. "I was home alone when this guy who started me off came by to deliver something my mother had ordered. He was about twenty-two and very handsome. Well, finding me alone gave him ideas, because all of a sudden his arms were around me and he was kissing me." Barbara's tongue flicked out wetly over her lips. "Now," she continued, "I'd been kissed by a few boys, but this guy's kiss was really something. It drained the strength right out of me, made me feel suddenly weak as a kitten. So that I couldn't have resisted him if I'd wanted to. Next thing I knew he had me down on the bed, panting in my face like a locomotive."
Sharon felt her lips turn dry, felt her breathing quicken in an involuntary increase. She wanted to moisten her lips, but her tongue seemed stuck in her mouth.
"How did it feel?" Barbara went on. "There was a sudden stinging pain, but only for an instant. Then I was feeling the most marvelous sensation. Oooh...." Her eyes rolled in simulated ecstasy. "It grew and grew. Until toward the end I felt like a skyrocket shooting up into the sky. And you know," she chuckled, "it still feels like that, only more so now that I'm proficient at it. There you have it, Sharon-how it felt the first time I had it done to me."
Sharon had listened as if mesmerized. Now, as Barbara finished, a shudder of emotion passed over her. With an effort, she moved her tongue out over her dry lips, moistening them.
Barbara stood up. Smiling, she tilted her piquant face to the ceiling, stretched her arms wide, and flexed her fingers. Watching her, Sharon found herself thinking of a sleek, sinuous cat.
"I feel like a smoke," the blonde said. "How about you-you smoke, don't you?"
"Sometimes."
"Inhale?"
"Yes," Sharon laughed. "I started smoking when I was fourteen."
"I started around that age, too. Smoking on the sneak, like the rest of the kids. Once my mother caught me at it," Barbara related, "and she yanked my hair and slapped my face and told me she'd make me eat the damn cigarette next time she ever was to catch me smoking. I was careful not to get caught at it again. She still doesn't approve of my smoking, but I'm old enough to do as I please and what I please, now."
"How old are you, Barbara?"
"Eighteen. You're that age too, aren't you?"
Sharon nodded.
Barbara regarded her with a slanting smile. "Both of us eighteen, and here I've made out with guys and you're still a virgin."
Sharon said hurriedly, "I've been told I don't look my age, yet you surmised it exactly."
Barbara chuckled. "Let me get my cigarettes," she said.
Sharon's eyes followed the willowy blonde as she headed for the bedroom with a sensual sway of her hips. Barbara, she thought, was certainly well built, a fact that was very much emphasized by her tight-fitting clothes.
She began to hum and tap one knee with her index finger, a little smile of pleasure curving her lips, as she mused that she herself also had more than her share of good looks-beautifully expressive brown eyes, thickly lashed, high cheekbones, a full-lipped mouth, rich jet-black hair, and a curvaceous body that was full-blown.
She had matured early physically, had early become aware of her body. By the time she was old enough to have dates, boys were only too willing to take her out. But while getting a date was never a problem, trying to keep her virginity was becoming increasingly difficult. For her womanly body was filled with a woman's desires, was tormented by biological need. She ached fiercely for fulfillment. She could not lie to herself. She wanted to stop being a virgin. She wanted to go all the way with a guy.
Barbara returned. Sharon took the cigarette proffered her, quickly pulled the smoke into her lungs as the blonde girl lit it for her.
"Yeah," Barbara murmured, "you got to face the facts, Sharon. If you want to live a natural, happy life, you have to be a modern girl. Prudes mostly end up frustrated and bitter and sorry, a condition that's like corrosive acid. There's no telling what harm it can do to a person. Being a prude can, for example, make a girl become frigid, and frigidity is a pleasure killer. Since pleasure gives you happiness, you can see what unhappiness a frigid girl is in for."
Sharon nodded, drawing on her cigarette and blowing the satisfying smoke through her nose.
"It's also being practical, going all the way with a guy," Barbara went on, crossing her legs. "A girl who refuses to do it, who won't let a guy have it, is sure to find herself out in the cold eventually, dateless, for there are plenty of girls who will put out. Me included. Putting out pays off in the necessary experience and steady popularity, honey. Sex plays big in our lives, that's the way we're made, so get with it for your own good. It's normal and decent, not sinful and dirty. It's meant to be done, meant to be enjoyed, and anybody enjoys it, if they're normal. To feel that it's sinful, dirty, shameful, is not only wrong but harmful, Sharon."
Barbara uncrossed her legs and leaned close to Sharon, exhaling twin streams of smoke from her nostrils.
"Harmful because feeling that way about sex leads to frigidity," she asserted. "Yeah, sex ignorance can ruin your life. There'd be a hell of a lot less divorces, I bet, if more people would learn all they could about sex."
The blood beating in her throat, Sharon didn't say anything. She took a quick, tremulous pull on her cigarette, sucked the smoke so swiftly into her lungs that she coughed.
"To prove what I said about the hellish consequences you'd be in for if you wait until you're married and then find out you and the guy aren't sexually suited to each other,, let what happened to my mother convince you, Sharon. She divorced my father because he was just never able to sexually satisfy her. Naturally, she didn't institute the divorce for just that reason, but that's the real reason for her divorcing him. Sexual incompatibility," Barbara stressed. "She was never able to enjoy satisfactory sexual relations with him. I don't know how many times I overheard her accuse him of not being good enough in bed, and tell him she was sorry she'd not let him do it to her before they got married, because if she had let him she would have found out then that he didn't sexually suit her and never would have married him. And there was one time when she told me right out in front of him to be damn sure I marry a guy who knows how to satisfy a woman in bed. I was going on fifteen when she told me that, coming out with it during an argument she was having with my father. He got real sore at her for saying a thing like that to me, and he slapped her face."
Barbara paused. She was frowning and her blue eyes had darkened. She dragged deeply on her cigarette, blew out the smoke in a long thin line. Sharon watched the smoke break up and drift toward the ceiling.
"So you see why saving yourself for the guy you marry, like my mother did can turn out to be disastrous, Sharon?"
"Yes."
"Another thing, a girl and guy want their wedding night to be a grand one, but how can it be grand if the girl's a virgin-with her virgin's inhibitions to further mess things up for them on that big night? If you aren't sexually prepared there's no telling what the consequences might be, Sharon. I've heard of a bride who actually committed suicide on her honeymoon!"
Sharon paled. She felt a distinct shock pass through her.
"So the sooner you get yourself popped, the sooner you'll start gaining the experience you need, honey. Practice makes perfect. Practice will teach you how to be a good sex partner. You got to shop around sexually, so to speak, and get to know guys' sexual ways, get to know technique. I like you a lot, Sharon, and I wouldn't steer you wrong."
The warm intensity of Barbara's blue eyes did show deep sincerity, Sharon thought.
"One last piece of advice," the blonde said throatily. "Live for the moment, honey, because you never can tell when we may be blown to smithereens by an H-bomb."
"God forbid," Sharon said.
The blonde languidly got up.
"Sure warm today. I had to open the windows front and back. Well, summer will officially be here day after tomorrow. Saturday." She looked down, smiling. "I'll get us a drink. You like beer, don't you?"
Sharon nodded.
While Barbara was getting the beer, Sharon thought over the girl's argument for sexual intercourse before marriage, thought over her advice. It seemed a very valid argument, considering what the dire consequences would be if she were to hang on to her virginity and marry a man who could not make her happy in bed, and Barbara's advice, therefore, seemed good advice.
Suddenly Sharon couldn't help being excited by the idea of actually doing as Barbara advised she do. She would have all the sex she desired while gaining the experience she required in order to be a good sex partner. Best of all, her hunger for complete fulfillment would be assuaged.
Inevitably her mind recalled the times she'd let it wander in rapturous fantasies, in which a fellow caressed her body and finally possessed her in inexpressible delight, and desire swelled within her like a balloon, putting a spreading softening warmth in her loins, pushing the points of her breasts out turgidly against her blouse, and deepening her respiration.
She blushed guiltily as Barbara came in with the beer at that moment.
"Here you are, doll. There's nothing hits the spot better than cold beer on a warm day like this! "
It seemed to do just that, and Sharon smacked her lips in sharp pleasure.
"You're still playing the field, right?" Barbara asked. "There's no special boy friend yet?"
"Well, there is a fellow that I've gotten to like a lot-a fellow I met at a dance two weeks agobut I'm not letting myself get serious over him just yet."
"That's good," Barbara nodded, "because I was thinking that maybe you'd let me fix you up with a real smooth guy that can pop you expertly, start you off beautifully. Getting off to a satisfying start is important. It's pretty awful when a girl's first time is bungled because the guy's unsure, nervous, clumsy. It's bound to make the girl feel awkward and embarrassed, bound to make it a thing without much pleasure for her, bound to be a bad disappointment to her. That's how it was with a girl I know, whose first time was bungled. Her disappointment was so bad she broke off with the guy and became disinterested in sexual relations. That was the real harm, by the way-her losing interest in sex."
Barbara laid her hand on Sharon's arm, their eyes meeting and holding.
"That's why I think you ought to let me get this real smooth guy to start you off, honey. His finesse will ensure your getting off to a good start. Yeah, Ernie Edwards has the technique down pat. What do you say?"
The blood pulsed in Sharon's throat. "I ... "
"Look, you don't have to see him ever again after that. I'll tell you what, I'll set up a double date for tomorrow night. Me and the guy I'm going with at the present time, Keith Rowen, and you and Ernie Edwards. Okay?"
"Well ... "
"Well?" Barbara prompted. "Why the hesitation? Hasn't everything I've told you gotten through to you? You want me to set up the double date or no?"
Sharon took a big breath that shivered in her throat.
"All right, Barbara."
CHAPTER TWO
The beautiful expressiveness of her brown eyes heightened by eyeshadow, her full, delicate lips out-lined with flame red lipstick, and her ebony hair a stylish fluffy mass, Sharon took a last look at herself in the vanity mirror, a final inspection, then turned to face her young cousin.
"What did you say, Brenda?"
The fifteen-year-old teen-ager lounged on the bed with a love comic book she was reading. There was a wistful look in her blue eyes. Looking at her, Sharon couldn't help thinking that Brenda's thin sweater and blue jeans fitted her much too tight. Definitely much too tight, Sharon thought, and wanted to tell her so. But she refrained because she knew the kid was only conforming to the use of such tight-fitting clothes by her young crowd. Brenda believed in following the example of her friends, and would not want to be different from them.
Brenda was almost an orphan. She had been taken in and brought up by Sharon's parents after the tragic death of her own parents in a train wreck when she was four years old.
"I said I can't wait until I start having dates, Sharon."
"You'll be starting in a few months, when you become sixteen. Just be patient," Sharon said lightly and smiled at her.
"I don't see why I got to wait till I'm actually sixteen," she grumbled. "I'm practically sixteen, my gosh."
Sharon turned away. "Well, I better be leaving," she said.
"How come you're meeting this other guy instead of him calling for you?" Brenda asked then.
"I'm-double dating with a new girlfriend, and we're all to meet at her house," Sharon explained. "Well, so long."
Head high and shoulders lifting with each springy step, Sharon set out for Barbara's home. Outwardly buoyant, inwardly she was keyed up, tense. The prospect of surrendering herself to Ernie Edwards, of relinquishing her treasured virginity before the night was over, was a prospect that provoked conflicting emotions within her. Anticipation clashed with apprehensiveness. For while she couldn't deny that she wanted to have sexual intercourse, that she ached more than ever with biological need for it, she knew she was somewhat scared about actually going ahead and doing the sex act with Ernie Edwards. It was a scared feeling she could not shake, much as she sought to dispel it, rid herself of it, by logic.
That logic told her she couldn't turn back from her decision; told her that she must give up her virginity for her own good, as Barbara had pointed out to her the previous day. Or else risk terrible trouble by staying a virgin until her marriage-risk the awful consequences harped on by Barbara. She was quite determined, therefore, to go through with her sexual initiation as planned.
"Hi, come on in, honey," Barbara greeted her throatily. "Keith and Ernie are already here."
The blonde girl was wearing a red dress that fitted snugly across her breasts and hips, revealing every contour of her lush hips and buttocks, showing off her firm, compact breasts, and accentuating the smooth whiteness of her bare shoulders.
Sharon's heart seemed a thundering thing inside her as she followed Barbara into the living room. A shaky feeling gripped her.
"Keith, Ernie," Barbara bubbled, "meet Sharon Coe. Sharon, meet Keith Rowen and Ernie Edwards."
Keith was around five-feet-nine and husky, with sandy hair and bright blue eyes. Sharon liked his amiable, square, open face. Ernie Edwards was close to six feet tall and dark, with keen brown eyes and a full, sensual mouth. He sure was good looking, Sharon thought breathlessly.
The introductions over with, Barbara said gaily, "Okay, let's get this show on the road! "
Her pulses pounding and her face hot, emotional chills darting up and down her spine, Sharon sat beside Ernie in the back seat of Keith's yellow convertible as it droned over the road that led out of town. Up front Barbara was sitting very close to Keith, who was driving with both hands on the wheel. The top was down and the warm, rushing wind stirred Sharon's hair and brushed her face. They were going to a nightclub on Highway 17, she'd been informed by Barbara. A place named the 'Candleglow'.
Very much aware of Ernie's sidelong glances at her body-at the proud, young breasts thrusting against her white blouse, at the rich curve of the thighs straining against her print skirt, at the nylon-clad legs that seemed even more exciting in her pointed-toed pumps-Sharon was glad he couldn't see her blushing in the near-darkness of twilight.
"How about sliding over close to me, baby?" he said suddenly.
Sharon sat close to him and he quickly put his arm about her shoulders. She felt it tighten possessively as she yielded to its coaxing pressure.
"Barbara's told me the score," Ernie murmured. "She spelled it out pretty plain. It's hard to believe that you've still to be made a woman, that you're still a virgin. But as they say, truth is sometimes stranger than fiction. Well, I'm an all-round accommodating guy. Besides that, making out with a real cute little doll like you is my favorite pastime, baby. So we might as well start warming up to each other."
He-put his index finger under her chin, lifting her face toward his, and Sharon tensed instinctively. Her breath accelerated, forcing her lips quickly apart. Ernie's face swooped down. Then he was kissing her, his sensuous lips encompassing hers and compelling her mouth to conform to his.
Sharon slipped her arms around his neck as she felt herself responding to his kiss. Her mouth opened wide under his practiced lips, and she felt his teeth pressing against her own. She knew what was coming, and that knowledge made her heart beat faster. Sure enough, Ernie's tongue poked adroitly past her teeth and she thought she would choke on her pulse. A glowing sensation flashed through her body. Her arms tightened reflexively around his neck and there rose within her a swift, sharp flood of emotion.
She abandoned herself to the overpowering kiss.
Ernie broke the stirring soul kiss after a long moment.
"There," he said huskily, "that's started things simmering for us, baby."
Sharon released a searing breath, then sucked in a lung full of the clean night air. She tried to compose herself.
"Ever been to the Candleglow?" Ernie asked.
"No, but ... I've heard about it from a girl friend." Her voice was unsteady. She drew another deep breath. "She says you don't have to be twenty-one to be served drinks there."
"You don't, because the place is situated just across the state line...."
"You mean it's in New York?"
"That's right," Ernie nodded. "And the legal drinking age in New York is eighteen, not twenty-one as here in Jersey. Incidentally, I just became twenty-one last week."
Suddenly chuckling, he gave her a squeeze. "Yeah, I'm a man, baby, in every way!"
She smiled. Tiny thrills of excitement were shooting along her backbone. Every inch of her body seemed aware of him.
"Keith is older than you, isn't he?" she said.
"A year older. He's twenty-two."
They went over a little wooden bridge and Sharon gazed down at the placid waters of the creek below.
"We'll be crossing the state line in a half minute," Ernie said.
"I've never been out of the state before," she divulged.
"Well, there's a first time for everything, baby."
They lapsed into momentary silence. Sharon didn't object as his hand brushed against her left breast. Seconds hummed by as the convertible droned onward. Then Ernie's hand moved again, and she felt the heat of his hand through her blouse as it closed over her breast. Her skin rippled and tightened. She stirred, resettled herself against him as his arm tautened about her.
"Relax," he breathed. "Loosen up completely. That's more like it. Let's pretend-if only for tonight-that we're meant for each other. It's so easy to pretend, baby, and that way we can have us a real ball."
She could feel her breasts pulse against his hand. The feeling started a fluid, growing warmth in her loins. A small tremor passed through her, and she brought her thighs closer together in a spasmodic movement. The involuntary action heightened the liquid, warm tension in her loins, and she bit down on her lower lip.
"I'd say there's plenty of love locked up inside you," Ernie murmured, "since you're eighteen and still a virgin. Love that needs only to be opened up to put you in thrillville. And, baby, I can't wait. I'm going to open up that love like a key opens a lock."
Her heart feeling double its size as it pounded within her, Sharon reflected that he had her making out with him already-in his mind. The thought revived her scared feeling.
The Candleglow was a neon-lighted, multi-colored one-story structure with giant imitation candles flanking its entrance. A poster said:
'DANCING NIGHTLY
Music by the Todd Trio'
Keith parked in the spacious parking lot adjoining the roadhouse, and the four of them went in the side door.
Inside, the scene was one of revelry-the kind of atmosphere created by popular music, soft lights, animated conversation and mingled laughter, dancing couples, hustling waiters. Sharon looked avidly about her as she and Ernie followed Barbara and Keith to a booth. The lively place seemed to be one long room into which was crammed a bar, booths, a small bandstand, kitchen, and rest rooms. There were speakers carrying the Todd Trio's dance music to every part of the colorful room. Sharon wondered fleetingly if they were brothers; they looked so alike as they cavorted on the bandstand.
Eagerly she slid into the plush booth seat against the wall, the excitement of the place gripping her. She wondered if Ernie danced. He sat close beside her, his thigh pressed warmly against hers, an unmistakable intimate glow behind his keen brown eyes as he smiled at her.
At Barbara's urging, she agreed to try a martini. Ernie and Keith took whiskey sours.
The martini was bitter and like liquid fire, but after a few sips Sharon found the drink rather delightful. It put a pulsing rosy glow inside of her.
"Care to dance?" Ernie presently asked her.
"Love to," she nodded.
He held her close as he led her through the latest dance steps. He was a smooth and polished dancer, leading her expertly, quick and light on his feet, and it was wonderful dancing with him. She was glad she was able to follow perfectly. She knew her face was flushed with happiness when they returned to the booth.
In spirited rivalry, the four of them indulged in talk appropriate to the occasion as they consumed their meal, with Sharon searching her mind for witty remarks to match those made by Barbara. After the meal they ordered another round of drinks, and then Sharon danced with Ernie some more, with Barbara and Keith joining them on the crowded dance floor.
They left the roadhouse at a quarter past twelve. Despite the brightness of the after-midnight moonlight, it was quite dark in the parking lot. Sharon welcomed the cooling night air against her flushed face.
As they walked over to the convertible that was a shadowy shape against the background of trees, Ernie suddenly pulled her in against him and kissed her, hard. Her head went back under his passionate pressure and her arms went around him in suppliance. He pulled her in still closer, and his mouth seemed to want to devour hers.
"Hey, hey!" Barbara sang out, excitement riding her voice. "There's a place for that, you two!"
"Yeah, get in the car," Keith laughed.
Ernie broke off the long, lingering kiss.
"Like I said, baby," he whispered in uneven breaths as he drew away, "I can't wait ... "
The force of the blood pounding in her veins was too strong to let Sharon speak. She stood trembling, emotion rioting within her, as Ernie took her by the arm.
"Come on, let's get in the car," he said huskily.
Keith raised the canvas top, shutting out the high-flung moon and brilliant stars overhead. They were, Sharon thought giddily, as snug as four peas in a pod. She giggled nervously, a sensual giggle at the back of her throat.
Barbara and Keith merged in the front seat, kissing so deeply that their heads gave the appearance of being fused together. Sharon's throat was suddenly tight with excitement.
"Baby," Ernie said in her ear, and she turned toward him and went into his arms.
His mouth descended possessively upon hers, forcing the breath from her lungs in a surging instant. She clung to him, savoring his straining ardor, rapturous tremors coursing through her body.
They separated briefly, sucked in air, then resumed kissing. This time, motivated by a force stronger than herself, Sharon strained against him. She rolled on one thigh as she sought to press still tighter against him.
Presently her whole body seemed to sigh and she exhaled an explosive breath. She drew away from Ernie, her bosom rising and falling with turbulent emotion, her mouth slackly open, her eyes enormous. He pulled her back, his arm hard about her, and ran the damp warmth of his lips over her face in fast short kisses. He kissed her eyes, cheeks, nose, and then claimed her mouth again and bore down upon it, his tongue affecting her as though electric impulses were being transmitted through the medium of her warm, clinging mouth.
For a long thrilling moment they were absorbed that way, kissing with everything they had; then Ernie released her and she leaned against him weakly, breathing hard.
"Baby," Ernie whispered, "That was plain terrific. You just keep co-operating one hundred percent like that."
Sharon tried to say something, but her lips wouldn't respond. The fleshy folds were too kiss-swollen.
Keith started the car, backed it around, and gunned out of the parking lot, the rear wheels noisily churning the gravel. Ernie leaned back and Sharon laid her head against his shoulder. Her heart was thumping erratically. Long suppressed desires were burning her flesh, and desires were bursting to find release. She felt as if she were burning up with a raging fever.
The yellow convertible was racing along the high way, and the air that rushed into the car through the lowered windows was cool and sweet. Her eyes hooded with half closed lids, Sharon lay in the crook of Ernie's arm with her head cushioned by his shoulder, drinking in the cool currents of air.
"It won't be long now, baby," Ernie murmured, nuzzling her hair. "Keith's headed for a secluded spot he knows about."
He tipped her head back and trapped her mouth with his. She made an inarticulate soundinher throat. A quick, expert twist of his lips pried her mouth open nicely for his tongue, and she shivered from the electric impulse that zipped through her.
"Baby, you're sure damn sweet," he breathed.
"She's damn sweet, all right," Barbara said, looking around at them. "So you be sure and take it easy with her and make her ready in easy stages. I've told her you have the technique down pat and will break her in beautifully. See you do, Ernie. I want her first time to be very good."
"It will be," he assured her.
A flushed, embarrassed expression came over Sharon's face, but she reclined submissively in Ernie's arms.
Minutes hummed by. Then Keith was leaving the highway, turning off to enter a narrow side road which cut through a wooded section. Seconds later he eased the car between tall, thick-boled, leafy trees bordering the road and brought it to a stop in a small clearing. He shut off the ignition and the lights.
"The casbah," Ernie murmured.
Sharon sat upright, eyes wide, her heart caroming off her chest wall. She was suddenly frightened, alarm flashing through her system. She had resolved to go through with her sexual initiation, but now that the time was actually at hand she was scared out of her wits.
Ernie gathered her warm, trembling body back into his arms and gently kissed the soft line of her hot cheek.
"Don't be afraid," he said softly. "There's nothing to be afraid of, baby. Come on, relax."
"I...." she choked, all tensed up and trembling.
He touched her face with his fingers in a light caress, then said soothingly, "We're going to work up to it slow and tender, and when we get to it you'll be wanting me to make you a woman. You'll see. And you'll be happy afterwards, real happy, baby. Just let yourself relax ... "
His tender touch, soothing voice, and calm assurance eased Sharon's alarm so that she became less tense. She drew a long breath and let it out.
Keith spoke in his amiable way. "I've got a bottle of Scotch stashed in the glove compartment," he said. "What do you say we each take a sip to reinforce the drinks we've had. A booster shot."
"I say second the motion," Barbara said throatily. "Get it out." She turned around. "A swallow of Scotch will have you nicely relaxed in a jiffy, Sharon, honey."
Sharon meant to take just a sip, but Ernie tilted the bottle and the liquor poured into her mouth. She gagged and her eyes were suddenly watering, her throat feeling like it was on fire. She pushed the bottle away and coughed. A ball of fire formed in her stomach.
"The first swallow burns like hell the first time you sample Scotch whiskey," Barbara chuckled. "But the second swallow isn't so bad, and after that you get used to the stuff. Even get to like it. Same as it was with the martinis, honey. Let her have another swallow, Ernie."
Before Sharon could stop him he had the fiery liquor spilling into her mouth once more. This time she didn't choke. The ball of fire in her stomach mushroomed into a stupefying warmth that flowed into all the fibers of her system.
"There, you see," Barbara said. "You're getting used to scotch already."
Ernie passed the bottle back to Keith. Barbara readjusted her position, snuggling close to Keith.
"Okay, baby...." Ernie gathered her close, folding his arms around her and kissing her until her mouth lay slack and clinging under his.
Moonlight lay over the small clearing, its rays penetrating the car, and it seemed Sharon could see the dark blood of passion throbbing in Ernie's face, could see the burning glitter of desire in his eyes, when he raised his head, finally. She smothered her face against his chest, every vein and artery in her tingling body pulsing with her own desire and need.
CHAPTER THREE
Ernie said huskily, "I've taught a few girls, but I think you're going to be my best pupil, baby." A shudder of deep emotion passed over Sharon. "You hear me, baby?" She nodded against his chest. "You're not afraid any more, are you?"
"No," she whispered. "Good," he said.
They exchanged more kisses, with Sharon answering each tantalizing, tarrying kiss in spine-tingling pleasure, knowing as she did that she was responding to him much more ardently than she had ever before responded to a fellow.
Drinking in these highly stimulating kisses that became deeper and more urgent, she scarcely felt his hand close over her breast. Not until his hand began squeezing gently. Then part of her inflamed senses was concentrated on what his hand was doing to her breast. Hot waves of sexual excitement washed over her. Her breast was suddenly straining against its confines, the nipple stiffening up, becoming hard. She gasped deep in her throat and tightened her arms around his neck, then was kissing him with feverish force.
They broke, fairly gasping for breath, and Ernie buried his face in the gentle hollow of her neck. She shivered and pushed her fingers into his hair. They stayed that way a moment, with his face pressed in the angle of her neck and shoulder and her fingers tightening and relaxing in his hair, and she saw that Barbara was sitting astride Keith and pecking at his lips with hers. Then Ernie raised his head and began kissing her again. "Baby...."
He pulled away from her, breathing deeply, and began opening her blouse. She moaned in a choked way. He pulled her blouse out of her skirt and unbuttoned it all the way. Then his warm hands slid inside her loose-hanging blouse as they sought the clasp of her bra. She arched her back to help him slip it free.
"Wonder whose bright idea it was to invent brassieres," he said as he took the bra off.
He pressed her back against the seat cushion and the bare breasts, taut and thrusting mounds of flesh, seemed to rise, seemed to lift toward his face in pointed invitation. He cupped the conical virginal breasts, quickly bent his head and kissed them. Sharon inhaled sharply and her body stiffened in a muscular spasm.
"Ernie...." she gasped in blood-tingling desire.
He ran his caressing lips over the delicate-skinned slopes, and bit gently into their peaks. Whimpering and breathing hotly, Sharon arched her body with a low moan and clasped her hands at the back of his head, fingers digging into his scalp.
"I'm going to make you want me real bad," he whispered.
Thrilling wildly, Sharon pulled his head tighter against her naked bosom, assailed by the most voracious hunger for love she had ever known.
"Oh, Ernie ... Ernie...." She twisted her fingers in his rumpled hair, throbbing with a fierceness that hurt. "Oooh, I feel like I'm going to burst!"
"I know, baby, I know. All that love you've kept locked up inside you, it's no wonder. It's trying to burst its bonds and we're going to see it does."
"Yes, yes," she moaned.
He went on with what he was doing and she moved her fingers frenetically in his hair in her delirious excitement. Finally lifting his head he slipped his hand to the nape of her neck, under the perfumed mass of her hair, and laid his lips on hers. When his tongue reached for her own it was there expectantly. They kissed passionately.
Steeped in sensuality, Sharon lay back with her eyes closed as Ernie placed his lips against her warm, pulsing throat while his fingers plucked at her breasts. Dimly she was aware of movement in the front seat.
She slumped, moaning in the seat when Ernie's hand went under her hiked-up skirt. The muscles inside her burning thighs quivered, tightened, and she began to tremble violently. Then her face flooded hotly and her body gave a jerk as though an electric wire had come in contact with her flesh.
Sharon rolled her head from side to side. Oh, she thought, oh, oh, oh.
The friction from what he was doing under her skirt was maddening, and she was caught up in a torrent of throbbing desire. Panting and crimson, nostrils flared, she leaned hard against him with a tortured groan. He tipped her head back and kissed her quickly.
"Baby, you're ready," Ernie said huskily.
He brushed his warm lips over her hard-tipped breasts. He had fanned her trembling body into white heat, so that urgency was a driving force in her. She wanted him-wanted him terrifically.
In swift compliance Sharon slipped her seething body down on the seat, until she was lying almost full length, and Ernie pulled her skirt high up about her waist. Wholly excited, craving his complete love, she raised her twitching hips to enable him to pull down her panties. The alluring whiteness of her flesh shimmered in the rays of moonlight.
"In a minute now, baby...."
Ernie touched her again and her smooth legs jerked spasmodically. She writhed, gasping, her heart pounding painfully. Ernie drew away for just a moment and she used the brief respite to thrust her head more comfortably in the comer of the seat.
"Now, baby," he said huskily.
"Oh, yes, now," she moaned.
His weight pressed her submissive body into the yielding leather of the seat as he settled himself over her, and Sharon laced her arms around his muscular back and tightened to him, flattening her face against his chest. He moved against her and the hard smoothness of him made the nerves in her body leap and jerk. She drew a strangled breath.
He found her, and Sharon grew all tight inside as she experienced a sudden twinge of fear. But it was quickly buried under the demands of her burning loins and aching want, and she clung to him as he gently but firmly began the sex act.
It was happening, she thought feverishly. Happening to her at last!
Abruptly her mouth was open wide in a soundless scream, soundless only because she somehow managed to suppress the agonized cry. Pain, stinging pain, was tearing through her. She stiffened against Ernie for that almost unbearable painful moment, and then the pain was fading and a great warmth was rising within her. She let out a shuddering breath and gave herself over to his deepening rhythm.
At first she was unsure about her movements and moved awkwardly, but then instinct took over and she moved together with Ernie in perfect rhythm. They moved together as one and she quickly felt lifted out of herself on a mounting tide of pleasure.
Gradually their harmonious rhythm picked up speed and Sharon's breath accelerated until it was coming in whistling gasps. There was a delicious roaring in her ears, and her entire being was caught up in ecstatic delight. She was riding heavy swells of crescending sensation, her hips pumping in uncontrollable passion. She moaned in a wild, choked way.
"Ah, baby-y...." Ernie groaned in her passion-blurred hearing.
There was now a frantic haste in their hurried movements. She could sense the acute pull of excitement in him as they strained toward the summit of ecstasy. It intensified her frenzy of passion, made her whimper as if in pain as she writhed violently beneath him and clawed at his back.
They reached the pinnacle simultaneously. Her nails digging hard into his back, Sharon convulsed in a paroxysm of explosive relief, her irrepressible loud gasping cry echoing Ernie's heavy groan of release as he clamped her to him.
The tumultuous moment over, their rigidity left their interlocked limbs and they lay motionless, relaxing, calming. Soft and spent, still tasting the glory of what had just taken place, Sharon gave a long shiver of pleasure.
Ernie stirred. "Baby, you did very good," he murmured huskily. "I'm glad it was that good for you, being your first time."
"It was wonderful," she said in a small voice, and then sighed heavily. She felt drugged with fulfillment, a warm syrupy languor.
"From now on it'll be even more wonderful," he said, rising.
And Sharon knew that it would be and was suddenly smiling in strong elation, her lassitude dissipating.
She sat up, thinking of Vance Balbo, the fellow she'd met at that dance two weeks ago and whom she'd subsequently dated several times and would be dating again tomorrow night because of her more than passing interest in him, and her elation grew stronger.
Was he in for a surprise!
CHAPTER FOUR
Sharon's eyelids felt thick and heavy when she opened her eyes that Saturday morning, and it was with an effort that she turned her head to look at the alarm clock squatting on the night table beside the bed. It was ten-thirty-five. She rubbed her sleep sticky eyes and looked up at the ceiling, yawning voluptuously.
Suddenly memory of the previous night flooded in upon her, and she recalled vividly the incredible physical pleasures her body had known. And remembering, her sleepiness left her quickly. She emitted a low moan and squirmed beneath the bed sheet, her thighs growing warm, as she relived the glorious wild excitement Ernie Edwards had started in her with his roving hands and lips, relived the fierce urgency, relived the physical explosion that had shaken her body like a leaf in a windstorm and brought her gratification the like of which was beyond that imagined by her during slumber or fantasy.
"Qooh...." The low-breathed word was eloquent of her feelings.
Her loins tingling with memory of the rushing, shattering sensation, Sharon knew that her sexual initiation had changed her outlook, making the world look somehow different to her. Making it, she thought breathlessly, rosy and filled with such exciting promise! A shiver of joy wriggled down her spine.
"Mmmmmm...."
In heady exultation she cupped her breasts through her pajama top and held them sensuously, delighting too in the knowledge of the power to love that was in her, the power that had made her respond to Ernie with an ardor that she hadn't known existed within her. Memory of that overwhelming power heightened the warmth in her thighs and expanded her breasts. She knew it was going to govern her future actions.
Her thoughts swinging to Barbara Zarett, a gust of feeling for the blonde swept through her. Already grateful to Barbara for having set her straight on sex, she was now fiercely glad she'd taken Barbara's word for it about sex and about why sex was a necessary thing before marriage. She felt like she'd been reborn.
Suddenly she was thinking of Vance Balbo and tingling anew in avid anticipation. Only it was going to be different making out with Vance, she thought exultantly. For she would not be merely answering a biological urge. She really cared for Vance and was actually on the verge of becoming serious about him.
She concealed a guilty little start as Brenda walked in at that moment.
"Hi, about time you're awake," her young cousin said. The mattress sagged a little and slanted away from Sharon as Brenda plunked down on the edge of the bed. "You must've had a really super time last night, because you've never stayed out so late before," she went on, with a swing of her pony tail.
Sharon sat up, tilted her face to the ceiling and stretched her arms above her head, yawning widely.
"I feel as if I could go right back to sleep," she murmured, "for at least another hour."
With an impatient toss of her pony tail, Brenda leaned close, her blue eyes jabbing at Sharon. "Did you hear what I said? So answer me. How come you stayed out so late when you never did other times?"
"If you must know, our dates took my new girl friend and me dancing. We went to a night club and danced and danced."
"What night club?"
"Oh, some night club out on the highway."
"Still, you've gone dancing other times and didn't stay out half so late, Sharon. You got home past three a.m. Ten minutes past, to be exact! "
Sharon was suddenly eyeing her cousin sharply.
"Just how do you know that, may I ask"? I found you fast asleep."
"I only pretended to be. But I was wide awake. In fact, I was at the window when you got out of that convertible," Brenda disclosed.
"And what were you doing at the window at ten minutes past three in the morning?"
"I couldn't sleep, it was too warm, and I got out of bed to look out the window, when I heard a car stop out front."
Sharon studied the younger girl narrowly, noting that her face was flushed in a way that was new to her recollection.
"So you saw me get out of it, and you slipped back into bed and pretended to be asleep when I walked in," she said.
"That's right," Brenda nodded. "You're a funny girl at times, Brenda."
"I am not! " she flared up.
"Don't raise your voice," Sharon instantly admonished, glancing toward the open door.
"She's out," Brenda said. "She just left for the supermarket. So we can talk freely. I didn't go with her, just so we could be alone to talk. She's always around most of the time."
"Where's a mother supposed to be most of the time if not home?"
"Well, she's around too often to suit me," Brenda said petulantly. "Sometimes I wish she'd go help Papa run his stationery store."
"Is that so, brat?"
Brenda's face suddenly visibly softened, warmth crept into her blue eyes, and her carmine lips slackened, opened a little, and pushed out softly. She resembled in that moment the adorable tot that she had once been, the lovable baby cousin Sharon hadn't been able to resist cuddling and petting and kissing time and time again.
"You haven't called me that in a long time," she said softly.
Sharon gave her a toothy grin.
"Haven't I, brat?" she said.
Brenda's eyes all at once grew pensive. "Sometimes I wish-" She stopped and gave a little shrug of her shoulders, the pensive look leaving her eyes.
Sharon felt a faint disquietude. "Wish what?"
"Nothing. Come on, tell me about last night's double date. I'm all agog to hear the details, so fill me in!"
Sharon laughed. "I already have," she said. "I told you we went to a night club and danced all night."
"But what about afterwards? What did the four of you do afterwards? I mean, you and your new girl friend necked with your dates after leaving the night club, didn't you?"
Heat flooded Sharon's face.
"Brenda!" she gasped.
"Oh, stop acting like I said something terrible, for Pete's sake. Stop acting like I'm a child. I'm practically sixteen, and I know about things. That's the trouble around here, Mama and Papa and you are always treating me like I'm still a child. I'm good and tired of it! "
Brenda jumped up, her eyes stormy, her expression betraying something akin to a child-like tantrum.
"And I'm getting more fed up every day with having to wait till I'm sixteen to have dates," she said heatedly. "Just because you let Mama and Papa have their old-fashioned way by waiting till you were sixteen is no reason I should do the same. They're not my real parents anyway! "
"Brenda!" Sharon was both flabbergasted and dismayed by her young cousin's vehement outburst. It was so unlike usually good-tempered Brenda. Sulky at times she had been, yes, but that was all.
"Well, they're not," Brenda cried with an emotional catch in her voice. She gave a stormy switch of her pony tail. "And I'm not going to let their positively unfair attitude keep me from dating-not any longer I'm not." Her normally serene blue eyes were a smoky hue and seemed to be shooting off tiny sparks of blue fire in their intensity of vehemence. "If I have to, I'll date on the sneak! "
Sharon leaned toward her in sympathy and understanding. She said gently:
"Brenda, Brenda, listen to me...."
The pony tail flicked jerkily. "No, I don't want to. I'm mad."
"You'll get over your mad when you hear what I've got to say, brat."
Brenda's lower lip was suddenly quivering perilously close to tears. Abruptly she sat down again and burst into tears.
"Oh, brat," Sharon groaned.
"I wish I was dead," Brenda sobbed, her slim shoulders shaking.
Shocked to the core, Sharon quickly put her arms around the crying girl and fiercely drew her close.
"Don't say such an awful thing! "
"You don't know how I hate it every time you go out on a date, Sharon ... how terrible I f-feel...."
Greatly disturbed, she held Brenda against her, massaging the slim, curving neck.
"Brenda, Brenda," she groaned, rubbing her long fingers tenderly over the white nape. "Stop crying and listen to me. Since you're going to be sixteen in August, I'll have a talk with Mama and Papa and see if I can get them to let you have an occasional date in the meantime."
Brenda's shoulders stopped their shaking. She sniffled and suddenly raised her tear-streaked face to Sharon's.
"You will?" she breathed. "You'll really do that?"
"Yes. I'll do it sometime tomorrow-Sunday."
"Oh, Sharon!" The blue brilliance of her wet eyes was dazzling.
Then Brenda was flinging her arms around Sharon's waist and hugging her tight, her young face eager, her smile one of quivering anticipation.
"Hey...." Sharon gave an embarrassed little laugh.
"There's this cutest boy I met the other day," Brenda gushed warmly, her dilated eyes dancing with excitement. "I just know he's dying to date me. If you fix it with Mama and Papa so I can give him the green light to ask me, maybe you and me could double date, Sharon. Sometimes, I mean. Oh, it'd be simply wonderful! "
"We'll see." Sharon tried to speak calmly, but there was a throb in her voice. "Now go blow your nose, brat."
Laughing, Brenda bounced up and was at the dressing table in two swift bounds.
Looking at her critically, Sharon couldn't help thinking that the maturity of her body did not fit her eager young face. The blue jeans, stretched tight across her buttocks as they were, showed off the full swell of them, and the thin sweater was filled to capacity.
"You know," she murmured, "I'm only now realizing how much you've grown, kid."
Brenda wheeled about with a spellbound smile.
"I'm already built like you and just as tall," she said happily, and returned to the bed with gazelle-like movement. "Get up and let's see how our figures match up. Come on," she urged with a little excited laugh.
Pushing her fingers through her sleep-disarranged hair, Sharon lay back and grinned up at the fifteen-year-old.
"Scoot out of here so I can start getting dressed, silly."
"You need privacy all of a sudden to do that?" Brenda laughed. "Come on, get up before I pull you out of bed!"
"You'll do what?" Sharon retorted.
"I'll pull you out of bed," Brenda said agressively, leaning down and grasping Sharon by the arm. "Don't think I can't."
"Leggo," Sharon laughed, trying to twist her arm free.
Brenda yanked.
"Ohhh!" Sharon gasped as the vigorous pull dragged her over the edge of the bed, causing her left breast to spill out of her loose pajama top.
Releasing her arm, Brenda clapped both hands to her mouth in hilarious mirth.
Blushing furiously, Sharon hastily pushed herself up into sitting position and sought to get the exposed white globe of flesh quickly back inside the pajama top. Her confusion increased as the dark nipple rose suddenly outward like a little button between her fumbling fingers.
"Oh, Sharon," Brenda snickered. "Oh, is your face red."
"Scoot," she hissed. "Scoot before I get up and throw you across my knee and make your bottom as red!"
Brenda's blue orbs widened in glee.
"You could never make it as red as your face, Sharon," she baited.
"Oh, you insolent thing, I'll spank you so red-" Brenda rolled her hips in a sassy motion. "Ho, ho, never," she taunted. "Never as red as your face."
Pushing her breast down out of sight, Sharon looked at her balefully, then suddenly whipped the bedsheet off her legs.
With a child-like giggling squeal of excitement, Brenda mounted the bed in a flash and threw herself upon Sharon, tumbling her flat on her back.
The wind knocked out of her, Sharon lay gasping like a fish out of water as Brenda pressed quickly down on her with all the strength she possessed, pinning her to the bed.
"Try to move," Brenda gritted, digging her chin into Sharon's shoulder. "Just try to move...."
Sharon tried, straining, digging her heels and elbows into the bed, but Brenda kept her pinned down.
"Hah, I'm stronger than you," Brenda panted.
"Is that so?" Sharon breathed.
"You can't budge me and you know it."
"Okay, I can't. But I bet if we get on our knees and see who wrestles who down flat-"
"Like we used to do?" Brenda said eagerly, raising her head and meeting Sharon's eyes. "Oh, that used to be such fun. I always got the worst of it too, remember? We used to call each other names and then wrestle one another on the bed. You used to nearly smother me sometimes."
"And you liked my nearly smothering you," Sharon murmured, recalling how Brenda had writhed under her with an ecstatic expression on her flushed face. Afterwards Brenda had looked at her guiltily.
"I know," Brenda giggled. "Gee, we haven't wrestled like that any more since I was eleven and you fourteen. Okay, let's wrestle to see which of us downs the other, now."
Kneeling opposite each other, they regarded one another warily for a moment, then lunged forward simultaneously, coming together in soft collision.
"I won't be the one to go down this time," Brenda hissed.
Grunting and straining, they writhed chest to chest on the bed as each sought to down the other. Sharon nearly went down as Brenda suddenly bent her sideways with surprising strength. She was able to heave herself upright again only by quickly clenching every muscle in her body and exerting herself to the utmost.
The bed sagging beneath their knees, they breathed laboriously as they struggled.
"Oh, you!" Brenda gasped when Sharon surged against her in another burst of strength.
"Hah, brat!"
She was inexorably bending Brenda backward, when, with the last of her fast-waning strength, Brenda grabbed her by the hair and yanked. She gasped sharply as her head was jerked back, then with a quick, hard twist of her body she elbowed Brenda in the stomach. Her cousin collapsed and Sharon flung herself over her, swiftly gripping her wrists as she pinned the gasping girl down on the bed.
"Who wasn't going to be the one to go down this time?" she said in fierce triumph. "You poked me in the stomach."
"You pulled my hair."
"Whew-w, I'm all in," Brenda sighed. "Utterly pooped."
Eyes suddenly gleaming, Sharon raised herself to her knees beside Brenda. Then she quickly rolled the thoroughly winded girl over and straddled her back.
"Hey...." Brenda gasped.
Moving swiftly, Sharon unzipped and drew down the blue jeans. Brenda cried out, a raw yelp, and squirmed violently. She let out a bigger yelp when her panties were pulled down.
Then Sharon was slapping the exposed buttocks, reddening the lovely white flesh with the stinging slaps, while Brenda writhed under her, moaning.
"I told you I would spank you so red," she panted.
With increasing force her palms cracked the flinching buttocks. In her concentration she did not realize she was now striking as hard as she could. Nor did she realize Brenda had stopped writhing. The resounding slaps mixed with Brenda's moans, and Sharon felt caught up in the strange harmony.
Not until Brenda's buttocks were a fiery red did she finally desist. In sudden alarm then, she twisted around and looked down at Brenda's face. She expected to see it contorted in agony. What she saw was Brenda's face contorted in an ecstatic spasm.
CHAPTER FIVE
Chet Garth rubbed pomade on his yellow hair, then carefully combed the glistening thatch to bring out the deep wave in it. There was a cold handsomeness about him. For one thing, his blue eyes seemed to frost over when he wasn't smiling, so that they resembled twin bits of blue-tinted ice. He ran the small hairbrush over the sides of his comb-slicked hair, savoring his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He looked the way he wanted to look: cool and casual outwardly, but with a discernible trace of toughness.
There was a sudden bang on the bathroom door. "Hey! You about done in there?" his old lady squawked.
He scowled. "Be out in a minute," he retorted.
"Well, hurry it up and stop taking your own sweet time in there! "
Chet lingered in the bathroom for another moment, then opened the door and stepped out into the warm and stuffy kitchen.
"About time," she grumbled. A thin woman whose straggly blonde hair was streaked with gray, she glared at him through her faded blue eyes. "I thought you'd fallen asleep in there."
He ignored the crack and said nothing.
"Where're you off to tonight-that poolroom hangout of yours again, as usual? You and your old man are two of a kind," she hollered, anger growing in her thin face. "With you it's the poolroom, with him it's the comer saloon! "
He couldn't wait to get out of the house. Grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair, he slammed the front door after him.
Deciding that he might as well drop by the poolroom, he slouched along the street. The thoroughfare was alive with life: kids playing, running around, their shouting laughter filling the summer air; traffic and its sundry sounds; people everywhere.
Riley's poolroom was smoky and noisy as usual and had the usual Saturday night crowd. All ten pool tables were in use, Chet saw. Puffing on a cheroot, he looked over the players as he drifted toward the row of time-worn, badly scratched chairs lining the wall in back of the long room. Some of the guys sang out to him, and he answered their comradely hails. He was looking for his two buddies, Ray Cooke and Bert Floyd, but did not see them. Evidently they had yet to put in an appearance.
He sat down and watched the pool play at the table nearest him; watched and listened to the comments and occasional ribald cracks of the players as they moved around the table taking turns at wielding their pool cues and smacking the white cueball against chosen numbered balls on the green felt.
The game was nearly finished when Tim Ross approached him, smiling genially.
"Hi, Chet," the pimply faced skinny redhead said, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "Boy, this pool parlor sure packs 'em in on Saturday night. Not a table open right now."
"So what else is new?" Chet drawled, blowing a cloud of smoke.
Flushing, Ross said uncertainly, "Look, I was wondering if you wantta ride out to Hoystown with me. The broads in that hick burg are supposed to be easy stuff-"
"I don't have to go out there to pick me up a dame," Chet cut in contemptuously. "I can get me one right here in town."
"Well ... well, okay then, we can cruise around for a coupla dames here in town."
Chet shook his head. "Nah-h. I'm waiting for my two buddies, anyway."
The Adam's apple bobbed nervously. "Oh. Okay, maybe some other time. See you, Chet."
"Yeah."
His lip curled as the guy walked away. What girl would want to be that pimply faced skinny jerk's pickup, she sneered. He wanted to spit. Then he reflected that what he really wanted to do was give the jerk a good swift kick in the pants for trying to get buddy-buddy with him, Chet Garth, just because they sometimes found themselves competing in a game of billiards.
Scowling, he got to his feet and went over to the Coke machine, fishing a dime out of his pocket. He watched the door as he drank, wondering what was keeping Ray and Bert. Feeling suddenly restless and irritated, he disposed of the paper cup and went outside.
As he stepped out on the sidewalk, a late model black hardtop rolled past, its gleaming beauty pulling his eyes to it like a magnet. It was a beautiful job, and he covetously watched it come to a stop as the driver parked a short distance away from the poolroom. There was the kind of car he would give anything to own!
Then a thrill was shooting along his spine, because the driver was getting out without bothering to shut off the ignition. He watched the dumpy guy waddle off and turn into Wheeler's liquor store. Man, all he had to do was slip behind the wheel and put the snazzy hardtop in gear and take off with the greatest of ease! Once before, two years ago when he was seventeen, he'd stolen a car to take himself a joyride in. Only that time he'd had to force a vent window and jump the wires. An old, banged-up green coupe it was, not a beautiful late model car like this black hardtop.
He'd do it!
Excitement burning through him, he walked quickly to the purring car, opened the door and got in. Suddenly his heart was hammering in his ears and he was breaking out in a cold sweat. With a savage curse, he spun the wheel and gunned the hardtop away from the curb, sent it roaring down the street. He narrowly missed striking a woman as he hurtled around the comer in a screeching turn.
He recognized Roxanne Lexch as he neared the intersection of Vine and Willow Avenues. She was standing on the comer in front of Raul's Diner, apparently waiting for a bug. She was seventeen, a cute-faced girl with a nicely ripe body. Her breasts bulged out her red sweater and her shapely legs stuck out of white shorts. One burnished auburn wave swooped low over her left eye. He'd had her out once, taken her to the movies and afterward for a stroll in the park. He'd steered her to a secluded spot and tried to get her to put out for him, but she'd been unwilling and had discouraged his attempt by her resistance. He hadn't bothered with her since that night one month ago. But seeing her now, standing there looking lush and provocative, rekindled his desire to have his way with her-a desire which he suddenly realized had accumulated within him during that length of time.
He pulled up in front of her, leaned across the seat and opened the door. She backed away quickly.
"Hi, Roxanne, it's me-Chet," he said. "Hop in and I'll take you wherever you're going."
He was outwardly calm, giving no indication of the tremors of triumph playing along his spine as a result of his car-stealing caper, and especially showing no sign of the desire now burning high in him.
She leaned down, looking very surprised. "Oh," she said. And then: "Where'd you get the car?" she asked in a voice filled with curiosity. "Your father's?"
"My old man's? You kidding? I borrowed it from a guy. Come on, get in. Where you headed for?"
"My aunt's place. She lives in Twin Oaks. But I think I'd rather wait for the bus. Thanks for the offer anyway."
"Look, I've been meaning to look you up to tell you I'm sorry for the way I acted that night," he lied. "I really care about you, really I do. I just lost my head that night. Only reason I haven't looked you up is because I figured you didn't want to have anything more to do with me after what happened."
Roxanne looked uncertain. "I'd' like to believe you, Chet...."
"You can, babe."
"Well ... well ... "
He smiled at her engagingly. "Ah, give me a second chance, huh?" he pleaded in a warm and coaxing voice. "We'll make a new start."
"Gee, Chet...." She bit down on her lower lip, evidently finding it hard trying to make up her mind.
"I promise to be good," he said lightly, lying in his teeth.
Indecision still lurking in her almond-shaped green eyes, she said, "Will you promise to take me straight to Twin Oaks?"
"Sure thing. Now hop in, babe."
The indecision left her eyes, and she was suddenly smiling at him. "All right then," she said, a breathless quality entering her voice.
She got in the car, pulled the door shut after her, then leaned back and looked at him. She had a nifty little smile that lent further enchantment to her cute face. The scent of her perfume swirled about him. He felt he couldn't wait to pull her into his arms; every burning inch of him craved the delicious feel of her. He ached for only one thing in life at that moment. And he would have it if he had to rape her. This time there would be nobody within earshot of them to worry about, so it wouldn't matter if she was to scream as she'd almost done that night in the park.
She said, "Ummm, this is sure a smooth car."
"I'll be getting me one like it before long," he bragged. "I quit that car wash job of mine, and am lining up a job that don't pay peanuts. A construction job."
He put the hardtop in motion and resumed driving toward Highway 17. The tires made a humming sound on the macadam as he stepped on the gas.
"It's beautiful out tonight," Roxanne commented. "The first night of summer," she sighed.
"You been out with any other guy since what happened with us?" Chet asked her.
"Just once or twice," she murmured. "With Dave Macon."
"That freckle-faced, long-nosed kid?"
"He's eighteen, and he's not bad looking," she countered.
He snorted. "Maybe he wouldn't be if he had his nose shortened. He lives over on Tyler Street, if I remember right."
"Yes. But he's really all right, polite and-"
"He's a pansy. I bet he didn't even try to kiss you."
"He did too. He asked me and I let him kiss me goodnight."
"Just goodnight, huh?"
"Yes, just goodnight. I-I only necked a little with you because of the way I felt about you," she stammered. "Maybe if I'd not, you wouldn't have tried to ... get fresh," she added. "Maybe ... maybe I was to blame as much as you for what happened, is what I'm trying to say...."
"You sure put up a struggle," he said tonelessly. "You scratched the back of my hand."
"I was scared stiff. I-" Roxanne broke off. She leaned across and touched his arm in a conciliatory gesture. "But I'm sorry about my scratching your hand."
They were riding through a darker section of town. The blocks were longer and sloped downward. Occasional neon tavern lights danced brightly, colorfully, against the night's darkness.
"I'm glad you happened by, Chet," she told him.
"Me too, babe." He was glad, all right.
He turned onto the highway, driving carelessly but in control of the car. A car horn let out a sharp blast, and an instant later a cream-colored compact car drew alongside, its driver throwing him an angry look. A svelte brunette was snuggled up to the guy, Chet saw, and as she too glanced over at him sudden recognition flashed into his brain. Sharon Coe, the stuck-up dame who'd made him feel like two cents at that public dance two weeks ago by coolly declining to dance with him. Used to having girls make a play for him, he'd bragged to his two buddies that she would fall into his arms when he strutted up and asked her for a dance, and therefore her disinterested gaze and cool refusal had been quite a blow to his ego, besides having made him feel like a fool after his brag. Nettled, he had shortly thereafter felt like walking out of the place and waiting for her outside, figuring he would get her to see that she couldn't treat him in a stuck-up way, but Ray and Bert had talked him out of it. It was Ray who'd told him she was the local stationer's daughter Sharon Coe.
He scowled darkly as he saw the expression of distaste that came over her face now. Then the compact car pulled ahead. He sure hated her right then, for giving him such a look. He wanted to let the compact car swerve over into his lane, then overtake it and force it off the road into a ditch. But he couldn't do that with Roxanne along, he knew.
"Gee, did that couple give us dirty looks," Roxanne said in a tone of indignation. "You gave them room to pass...."
"Yeah," he grunted, hard-lipped.
He stepped on the gas hard and the hardtop surged forward and caught up with the compact car. Neck and neck both automobiles raced along the highway for a moment, then the hardtop forged ahead. Chet really opened up then, jamming the accelerator against the floor, and the hardtop zoomed away in an incredible burst of speed.
"Let them eat our dust," Roxanne cried, twisting around to look back. "Oh, we left them so far behind they'll never catch up," she laughed, excitement livening her face.
Chet took a deep breath, released it slowly, letting the tension that had built up within him drain from him.
Turning back around, Roxanne said enthusiastically, "Oh, I just love to be going this fast. It's fun!"
He grinned frankly at her and said:
"Anything that's fun, babe, that's for me."
Again burning with sharp desire for her body, he let his glances caress the angles of her face, her bulging breasts, and the alluring whiteness of her long, bare legs, his gaze lingering on the latter where the moonlight fell upon them.
Then he was off the highway and following a dark secondary route, a winding country road. Trees began to swish past, sparsely at first and then in clumps.
"Are you sure you know the way to Twin Oaks?" Roxanne said suddenly, a note of uneasiness in her voice.
"This is a short cut," he told her, his sidelong glance noting that she was nervously twisting her hands in her lap.
"Chet ... You won't forget your promise, Chet?"
He looked full at her. She was biting her lip and her eyes, lighted as they were by the dashboard lights, mirrored her sudden taut inner tension.
"Relax, huh? You'll get to your aunt's place."
She leaned back, looking unsure and apprehensive, and he gloated, tingling anew at the thought of what he planned to do before he got her there. Anticipatory tremors sped down his legs. Yeah, he was going to make her come across this time, willingly or otherwise.
He drove on, looking for a secluded spot he could pull into, and a quarter of a mile later he came to such a spot.
"Just perfect," he breathed, twisting the wheel hard as he turned into a space between the trees that was wide enough to accommodate the big hardtop and deep enough to drive it in about fifty feet and park at an angle.
"What are you doing?" Roxanne cried.
Cutting the motor and killing the lights, he turned toward her in burning lust and said:
"We're gonna settle something."
"Chet...." she said in a choking voice, huddling up against the door. "No, Chet ... "
"Yes, Roxanne," he drawled. "You're so cute and irresistible, I can't help myself."
"No," she cried. "You back out of this place and drive on to Twin Oaks. I mean it, Chet."
He shook his head slowly. "Not till I show you how much I want you, babe."
"You mean how much you want one thing," she retorted. "You don't care about me the way you said you do, you just want that from me."
"You're wrong," he denied, moving across the slick leather seat toward her. "I'm crazy about you, Roxanne."
"No, you're not. You wouldn't be going back on your promise otherwise. You wouldn't be acting like this."
He took hold of her tense shoulders. "I'm acting like a guy who's crazy about his girl," he said persuasively. "You are going to be my girl, aren't you?"
"I don't know if I want to be."
"I'll make you want to be, babe."
He pulled her possessively into him. She stuck out her elbow, but he brushed it aside and wrapped his arms around her. She tried to avoid his kiss by turning her head the other way, but he was too quick for her. He felt the tremor that ran over her body as he bore down upon her mouth, and it served to excite him further. The stiffness flowed out of her then, and as she melted he felt her hand go up and skim his yellow hair.
Her warm, moist lips soft and responsive under his, he kissed her long and deep, thrilling with fierce pleasure as she was compelled to breathe in unison with him, measured breaths that had her inhale when he exhaled, and vice versa.
Finally breaking off the lengthy deep kiss, Chet drew away a little, relaxing his embrace so that Roxanne was able to move within the circle of his arms, and she leaned against him with a shaky moan, pressing her face in the hollow of his neck. He moved his hand in small circles against her back, his pulses pounding erratically in his hard-breathing excitement. He turned his head and kissed her ear, flicked the tip of his tongue along the shell of the ear and felt her shiver and clutch him tight. Then he felt her kiss his neck with wet, loose lips.
"Oh, Chet, I want to be your girl," she said huskily.
"Sure you do," he whispered, lipping her ear, his excitement rising another notch at her admission.
He pushed her back against the seat, claiming her lips once more as he ran his hand along the soft heaviness of her warm thighs. Driving the kiss into her, he pressed against her, jammed her against the seat as he squeezed his probing hand beneath her white shorts. He felt her suck in her breath sharply and stiffen her body. He exerted further pressure, forcing her head back against the seat and holding it there this time. She made noises deep in her throat and slumped as her stiff and straining resistance was overcome.
Presently he freed her mouth and she jerked her head up and away from his with a sobbing groan.
"Stop it," she said hoarsely, plucking at him with her hands. "Stop! "
He disregarded her, kissing the tantalizing curve of her warm, pulsing throat. She groaned again, a slurred sound, and hung her head over his shoulder in her helplessness, and he listened avidly to her shallow, excited breathing. Small shudders were passing through her body.
"Oh-h-h...." Roxanne moaned, shaking her head from side to side.
She suddenly collapsed against him, and he thrust her back against the seat. He touched her bulging breasts through her red sweater. Man, what a pair!
"First time I laid eyes on you, I wondered if these can be for real, babe. Now to find out."
"No," Roxanne said weakly. "Please don't...."
She renewed her resistance, clutching at his arms and making a desperate attempt to keep him from pulling up the sweater.
"Quit fighting me! " he commanded.
"Please, Chet," she gasped. "I'm ... not that kind of girl...."
He jerked her thin sweater upward, peeled it upward over her breasts. She began tugging frantically at his arms as he reached around her to get at the clasp of her bra.
"Give in, babe!" he snapped, knocking her arms aside.
She loosed a sobbing breath of sound and fell back, breathing heavily. Changing his tactics, Chet said huskily:
"You said you want to be my girl. Well then cooperate, huh? To be my girl you gotta do as I say, but I'll treat you right. You know I'll show you good times, real good times. All you gotta do is put out for me, starting with right now."
She shook her head from side to side, and whined, "No, I can't ... "
"Yes, you can and you're going to," he told her. "There isn't anything easier to do, babe," he added.
She whimpered as he wrenched apart the bra-clasp and freed the globular mounds of flesh. Quickly lowering his head, he kissed them and felt Roxanne tense up with a sharp intake of breath. A hot, thrilling tremor racing down his spine, he let his tongue dart busily between the exposed breasts as Roxanne's fingers twisted in his hair and a pleasurable moan excaped her throat. He loved the smooth, velvety texture of her skin.
"Now, babe!" he said presently, feeling as if he couldn't delay a second longer.
"No-o-o...." she groaned. "Please, Chet, I never done it before-"
"You don't know what you've been missing."
"No, I don't want ... Chet, no! I'll scream...."
He expelled a harsh breath. "You can scream your head off, but you're coming across, Roxanne."
Roughly, he shoved her down, cramming her head in 'the comer against the door, and yanked at her shorts. She struggled ineffectually as he pulled them down and clawed at the waistband of her panties. He ripped the flimsy material as he jerked the underwear down over her knees, her resistance serving only to excite him further.
When he pulled her legs apart the resistance suddenly went out of her, and he felt a victorious thrill at her surrender.
"Don't hurt me," she gasped as he prepared to possess her.
She started up convulsively when he came down on top of her. The delightful softness of her body beneath his hard, muscular physique put a mounting strength in his legs and arms as he jammed himself against her and pinned her to the seat.
"Stop, stop!" she cried suddenly. "You're hurting me! "
His breath gusty in his throat, Chet paid her no heed, he moved against her in a powerful thrust. Roxanne screamed in agony and her body went stiff beneath him. Then she was again utterly soft and yielding, and a moan of animal joy pushed past his lust-contorted lips as he moved unrestrainedly against her.
There was, he exulted, nothing, absolutely nothing that felt as good as this! Doing this jet-propelled him up, up, up, higher than the tallest mountain-or so it seemed. Then his passion was suddenly so intense that he stopped thinking and concentrated solely on what he was doing.
Below him Roxanne was emitting squeals like a stuck pig. Her squeals and his loud breathing were the only sounds in the clinging darkness inside the car. But soon Roxanne's squeals gave way to panting moans that told him she was now experiencing pleasure. Then he felt the spasmodic bite of her nails as they dug suddenly into the back of his neck.
And then he was clamping down on her with an emotion-charged groan and holding her immobile with the rigid strength of his locking arms and legs as he expended his forceful energy at the climax.
"You hurt me terrible," Roxanne said in a hushed voice afterward.
"I had to break through, babe. But after this it'll be as much fun for you as it was for me."
"What did you do with my bra?" she asked.
"Feel around on the floor for it."
Now that he'd gotten what he wanted from her, he couldn't wait to be rid of her. Lay 'em and leave 'em, that was his motto. He waited impatiently while she pulled up her torn panties and white shorts, put on her bra and pulled down her red sweater. Once he dropped her off at her aunt's place in Twin Oaks, he would drive back to Ridgedale, ditch the hardtop and return to the poolroom. By that time Ray and Bert should be there.
"Chet, honey...." Roxanne spoke in a wheedling tone now, and she pulled at his arm as he reached out to switch on the lights and start the car. "Honey...."
As he turned toward her in mingled impatience and annoyance, she snuggled up to him and her arms crept around his neck. He had to check the impulse to shove her away from him.
Her breath warm and sweet in his face, the soft, swollen lips an inch away from his own, she murmured:
"I do so want you to care about me ... to love me truly, I mean. I love you, and I'll do what you want, honey. I'll do anything, because our going steady will mean that much to me-Oh, Chet."
Her lips crushed themselves against his in a yearning kiss, and he responded automatically, thinking that he'd sure tamed her real good.
Suddenly he was exulting in his mastery. Man, but it sure was the greatest feeling making a dame come across by putting the pressure on her!
CHAPTER SIX
Barbara Zarett came suddenly awake with a start in the darkened, perfumed bedroom. Her heart pounding, her body bathed in perspiration, she started up in bed, then sank back with a shuddering breath and let the tension within her recede. She'd been dreaming that a man with a black beard had broken into the apartment during her mother's absence and without a word had started kissing her. His rough kisses had hurt her mouth, but she had liked it. She'd also liked the sensation of his beard against her face and was trying to rub her face against the bristly hairs, when she suddenly woke.
Presently she turned her head on the rumpled pillow and saw that the other half of the double bed was empty. Since all was dark and silent, she knew her mother had yet to come home from her date with Harvey Gilds, one of her mother's boy friends. A glance at the luminous hands of the alarm clock showed the time to be a quarter past four a.m.
She tried to get back to sleep, but it eluded her, and she remained awake, sighing heavily. Her nightgown was sticking to her sweaty body in spots, and she plucked at it in discomfort. She attempted to will herself into falling asleep but failed. Expelling another heavy sigh, she flopped over on her back and lay in the darkness with her eyes open.
A minute or so later, she heard the sound of a car pulling up and stopping out front. Throwing off the bed sheet, she got out of bed and padded over to the window. She pushed up a blind slat with her forefinger and peeked out. It was Harvey Gilds' white Thunderbird convertible. She watched her mother lean in against Harvey till her shadowy figure blended with his. Smiling thinly, she let the slat drop and returned to bed.
She lay motionless, her eyes wide and staring in the dark, remembering how Sharon Coe had reacted to Ernie Edwards' love-making. Sharon had practically begged Ernie to hurry up and possess her, after his preliminary love play had aroused her physically. It proved how starved for sex Sharon's virgin body had been.
Suddenly Barbara felt she couldn't wait till the next time she had Sharon alone in the living room. It'd required much restraint to keep herself from seducing the sweet brunette last Thursday, from then and there wickedly using her.
Mentally picturing herself bending Sharon to her will caused Barbara's mouth to go dry with anticipation. With a throaty moan, she rolled over on her side, trembling from head to toe with the desire that pulsated so strongly inside her.
She became imbued with a sense of power as she reveled in the stimulating thoughts of overwhelming Sharon in fierce passion and dominating her in the same manner with which she'd overwhelmed and dominated other girls who had attracted her from time to time during the past four years.
"Oh, I just can't wait to get her down on this bed," she whispered into the pillow.
She considered herself fortunate indeed to be bisexual, a girl that enjoyed having sex with a man or with another girl. Although at times she did find herself wondering whether she really preferred the love of her own sex to that of men. She just didn't know. At such times she would tell herself that it did not matter if she really preferred girls to men, since she meant to continue having the love of both sexes for as long as she could. She felt that not even marriage would put an end to her Lesbian relationships.
Priding herself on her faculty to discern by specific reactions whether a girl she felt a sexual attraction for would be receptive to her sexual overtures, Barbara was fairly certain that Sharon would show those specific reactions when she started to seduce her. Up to now, she'd not been mistaken about any of the girls she'd had affairs with; they had all, every single one of them, acquiesced to her craving, following her initial aggressive assault upon them, and reciprocated.
Her Lesbian affairs, with the exception of her first, had never lasted more than three months with the same girl. Her first such affair had lingered a month or so longer, probably having lasted that long a period of time because of being the first one. And probably because Monica Jenkins had been an exceptionally pretty girl, Barbara reflected. Exceptionally pretty and petite, a dainty little thing whose delicate beauty and innocence had fired her lustful nature and caused her bisexuality to first manifest itself.
Looking back on that first Lesbian experience, Barbara mentally relived the way she had grabbed Monica and passionately kissed her and caressed her and finally thrown her down on the bed and wholly possessed the girl, her lust turning her into a young, twisting, wild, human animal against whom fragile Monica didn't have a chance.
God, what a passionate thing she'd been even at that age, she thought. She was then only fourteen. Monica was nearly a year younger, she recalled.
That first Lesbian seduction had taken place at her house, and so had her succeeding Sapphism experiences all taken place there, for having her home be the place for such interludes always made Barbara feel so completely in command of things. Those Lesbian affairs had been tempestuous performances loaded with erotic thrills. Just thinking about them was enough to cause her breasts to become taut with excitement and send a thrill of pleasure down the length of her body. She sighed involuntarily as she wallowed in her sensual thoughts. Oh, she wanted Sharon Coe with an undeniable urgency!
She knew exactly how she would go about seducing Sharon, how she would handle her. Her calculating nature assured her that another conquest would be hers once Sharon was in her predatory embrace, and that conviction increased her excitement. In a spasm of anticipation she squeezed her eyes shut so tightly that she saw red whorls.
She whipped over on her back and released another throaty moan. Convulsively her hand moved in a self-caress that caused her tawny skin to ripple. A sudden fluttery feeling in her stomach made itself felt through the heat rushing to consume her. Oh, it was time she again experience the pleasures of Lesbian love, the last time having been six weeks ago with Pam Plaskon.
"Sharon, honey," she whispered tensely, "I'm going to show you what love really can be like!"
Love? Barbara's lips twisted. Sex! Love had nothing to do with it. Sex was what counted. Sex was what would always count. Sex was the thing that filled one with delight and drove one deliriously mad. Sex was the ruling passion.
Visualizing Sharon lying docile in her arms made Barbara's nostrils flare with her hard breathing, and it seemed she could already taste victory. She purred throatily.
A sultry, gloating expression spread over her face as her perverse trend of thought led her to exult the fact she was an insatiable sex partner who got a great deal of pleasure out of her ability to keep up sexual activity till her panting male or female partner lay utterly exhausted.
Barbara put her head back, mouth half open, gripped by sheer exultation as she looked forward to her next clandestine Lesbian affair.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"You look extra scrumptious tonight, Sharon," Vance said.
Her arm tucked possessively in his, her eyes alight in anticipation of what she intended to have happen before he returned her home, Sharon gave a pleased laugh and then smiled provocatively at Vance, enjoying very much his admiring, caressing look as they went out to his double-parked car that Saturday evening.
She said breathlessly, "Block dances are such fun."
"You can say that again," he agreed. "They're a ball."
They got in the cream colored compact car, and Sharon leaned luxuriously back on the seat, stretching out her legs comfortably. She was wearing an off-the-shoulder peasant blouse and a knee-length skirt that subtly stressed every alluring swell and indentation of her mature body. The black skirt pulled up over her knees a little, but she didn't care. The expectation she was aglow with heightened her desire, and she stifled a moan as she nestled close to Vance. He smiled and the caressing quality of his blue eyes deepened. She loved the fullness of his smiling lips, ached with sudden hunger for them.
"I think that what people call happiness has to do mostly with having fun," she commented. "Fun of one kind or another."
"I suppose everyone is more interested in material things, Sharon-in things that are just pleasure or bring pleasure," Vance said. "Especially with the world being in the shape it's in. Topsy-turvy."
He meshed gears smoothly and off they sped to the block dance.
"I dreamed about you last night, Sharon."
"That's flattering to hear."
"You were a mermaid, and I was trying to catch you. Crazy, huh?"
"Real crazy," she smiled. She pressed her thigh, so warm and firm under the thin skirt, against his. "Did you catch me?"
"No," he chuckled, "you were too slippery for me."
Sharon laughed.
"I'm glad it was just a dream, because I like you so much better the way you are, Sharon! "
She grinned. "I'm glad to hear that."
His arm slipped about her shoulders, and the touch of his fingers on her upper arm affected her like heady wine. She rested her head on his comfortable shoulder, fondly studied his strong and virile profile. She liked the way the bronze hue of his smooth-shaven face accentuated the brilliance of his blue eyes; liked the firmness of his square jaw.
Then she was smiling at thought of the two intertwining hearts she had drawn on a sheet of paper that afternoon, putting Vance's name in one and hers in the other. She must be in love, all right, to have done a silly thing like that.
She snuggled more cozily against him, desire swelling within her and making her blood race. She was in love with him, of that she was quite sure, and she wanted him more than she had ever wanted anything. Wanted him terribly. Wanted him for always!
With Ernie Edwards it had been biological need, a burning hunger for fulfillment; it had been a thing she'd thought about a lot since puberty started the changes in her body chemistry that had caused her to become interested in boys-that! Nothing more than sexual need and curiosity, she knew.
But with Vance she would be giving her heart along with her body; she would be playing for keeps.
"Hey, I landed that job," Vance said.
"Selling cars?"
"Yep. I'm a car salesman now. From now on I'll be making good dough."
"That's wonderful, Vance."
"Sure is. I'm sitting on top of the world."
"I'm so happy for you," Sharon breathed.
"For us," he said, his arm tightening about her. "Make that for us."
He looked at her with searching eyes. "Maybe it's too soon to tell you how I really feel about you, since we've known each other only two weeks. But I'm simply nuts about you, Sharon, and I'm hoping you'll come to feel the same way about me. I'm hoping real hard."
Something seemed to dissolve inside Sharon. She opened her eyes full at him, letting the rush of warmth and tenderness flow from their depths into his hopeful eyes.
"Vance-" her voice came out husky. "Vance, I was planning to tell you how it is with me. I was planning to tell you tonight, after the dance. How I want it to be for keeps with us ... "
"Oh, honey, do you mean it?" he cried.
She grasped his hand. "I love you and want things to be right for us, Vance."
He hugged her to him. "They will be, Sharon, honey!" He spoke exultantly, confidently. "I never cared about anybody like I care about you," he went on ardently. He laughed joyfully. "This will be a night to remember!"
That it would be, Sharon thought happily. And her breasts surged against her peasant blouse, nipples hardening in anticipation.
They reached their destination a few minutes later.
The block dance was a gala affair. The street was roped off, decorated with colorful lights, and swarming with people. At the entrance of the park fronting the gay street stood the bandstand, and the loud strains of music resounded through the crowded street as the seated musicians played with gusto.
Sharon danced with Vance in almost wild abandon, thrilling fiercely to the music's fast tempo, and delighting in the sheer sensuality of her gyrations and undulations. Vance was quite flushed with pleasure and excitement writhed in his brilliant eyes as he whirled her about this way and that.
"Feels like we'll be taking off any minute," he said gaily.
She laughed and whipped her body against his. They did several fast, tight turns, and she gloried in the feel of his body clamped to hers. It kindled her desire.
She was tremendously excited when they finally left the hectic atmosphere of the block dance, intoxicated as much by the festivities as by desire. Back in the car she had to keep herself from rushing things.
"Let's go find a cozy place to park for awhile," she told Vance boldly. "I don't want you to take me home just yet."
"How about down by the river?" he suggested.
"Yes, let's go there."
She sat back, trembling with love, her womanly body throbbing all over, her breathing rapid. Need was like a hot flame upon her flesh, need that only one thing could assuage. She wanted Vance very much. She caught her underlip in her teeth and bit down on it hard as she sought to keep a rein on her seething desire. The hard bite served only to intensify her craving, and she gasped deep in her throat.
During the breathless summer evening a light mist had drifted in from the river, and it enhanced the semi-sultriness of the beautiful night. The moon hung low above the western hills. Sharon snuggled against Vance with her face turned toward the moonlight as they drove along the highway. Waves of sexual desire kept surging through her, keeping her in a constant state of suspense and excitement.
Suddenly she jerked erect as Vance swore and sounded the car horn sharply, and she felt him braking the car. She saw that a big, black hardtop had apparently swerved recklessly into the path of the compact car, and fear abruptly clenched the muscles of her stomach as it appeared that they would collide. Instinctively she braced herself for the impending crash, her unnerving fear causing her to cry out in that heart-chilling moment. Vance swore again and frantically turned the steering wheel. The car lurched violently as it responded to his quick, hard twist of the wheel and barely missed striking the errant hardtop.
Sagging against Vance in sheer relief, Sharon could now feel the icy sweat that had popped out on her forehead, an unpleasant sensation of chilly coldness. She let out a shuddering breath. What a close call that had been. God!
They drew alongside the big, black car, and with a little shock she saw that the driver was none other than the arrogant fellow that had glowered at her for the remainder of that evening two weeks ago after she'd declined to dance with him. She looked away from him with an expression of distaste.
Vance increased speed and they pulled ahead of the hardtop. But the next moment it caught up with them, and alarm flashed through Sharon as the fellow threw her a savage look. Then the big car forged ahead and, in a powerful burst of speed, hurtled onward, outdistancing the smaller, compact car.
"Look at that crazy fool go!" Vance exclaimed.
"Let him," she said in relief.
They drove along the highway for a few seconds more, then Vance cut off into a side street. It was dimly lighted, with the shadows becoming deeper as they kept driving.
"We should be coming to a back road that is a short cut to the river from this neighborhood," he said presently.
They came to it and followed it down to the river. Sharon smelled the water as they neared the large stream. She felt the car go over a few bumps, and then they were out of the trees and the dark road smoothed out for the rest of the way. They passed a warehouse, a large, shadowy structure, and a short distance farther Vance slowed the car and pulled off the road, coming to a stop in a narrow, weedy lane.
It was cooler here by the river, a moist coolness Sharon welcomed. She brushed back the damp curls clinging to her forehead, feeling the feverish burn of desire overwhelming her. Vance sat back and looked at her, and she knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
She answered the unspoken question in his eyes by twisting toward him, squirming tight against him, and kissing him hard. Real hard. To show him that she was his for the taking.
His arms locked her to him as his lips greedily responded to her wanton kiss, their mouths straining together, his tongue lashing into her mouth. The blood roared in her head, and she gave a strangled moan of pulsing pleasure.
She ground herself against him, giving and taking, her hands slipping into his thick black hair and tightening there as the wild kiss went on and on, setting her completely on fire.
When finally they broke the voracious kiss, Sharon quickly sucked in a lungful of the cool, river bank air and then again pressed her lips hard on his mouth. This time she kept herself in control of the deep kiss, the movements of her warm and wanting mouth practiced and deliberate and inflammatory. Vance uttered a happy groan as he submitted to her aggressive ness, and she sensed his rising excitement as her tongue flicked in and out like a little red whip. She felt like a young, healthy, warm animal, wanting to touch and taste deep.
"I love you, oh, I love you so much," she breathed hotly.
She pulled away from him, breathing heavily, and in the half darkness inside the car it seemed she could see the dark blood pounding in his face, see the burning glitter in his eyes.
"I love you too," he said hoarsely. "So much it hurts. Oh, honey, I want you so bad! "
Passion thundered within her. It made her dizzy. She pushed her peasant blouse down, quickly unhooked her bra, freed the twin swollen mounds of flesh that strained for release, and pulled Vance's head down, twisting her inflamed body so that his lips came in contact with a hard, swollen crest.
"Oh! Oh, ray darling!" she gasped, raising her arm in a natural gesture and pressing her hand against the back of his head. "I want you too, I ache so, and I can't wait! It's unbearable ... ooh, bite me, bite me hard and make the ache go away, dearest! "
His warm lips caressed her, his teeth nipped her, and Sharon gasped in delight and shivered violently, moaning, the sensations catching at her breath in an electrifying way, bringing her excitement to such a flaming pitch that she could hardly stand it.
She urged him closer, her hand possessively on the back of his head.
"Ahh-h...." she groaned, rolling her head from side to side. "That feels so good, mmmmmm. Oh, I love it. More, Vance! "
He kept it up while she moaned and let out pleasurable sighs as she writhed against him, thrilling to his male efficiency. His hands assisted his lips in heightening her delight, fondling her hot, satiny flesh, caressing the smooth young slope of her back, touching her burning thighs tentatively, and then becoming bolder. She quivered from head to toe, nerves jerking and muscles tensing. She felt the short, spasmodic contractions of the latter as Vance's fingers dug into her gently but firmly, and her pulses hammered and her breath hissed out like steam. Her smooth legs jerked. She thrashed about in squirming fashion, biting her lips to keep from screaming in wild delirium, all of her ignited in a raging blaze of animal heat and passion.
"God, oh, God!" she gasped in a sobbing breath of sound.
Vance found her lips briefly. "Sharon, do you want to?" he said hoarsely, staring at her with an intensity she could feel. "Do you want to, Sharon?"
"Yes, oh yes!" she gulped, catching her breath. "Now, my dearest, now please! Hurry, I can't wait-ohhh-h!"
He crushed her hard against him, and she hung her head over his shoulder, shuddering, her breath coming with difficulty. Frantic with maddening need, she clung to him with leech-like tenacity, savoring the power of his arms, and could not resist touching him demandingly. She heard the quick, reflexing catch of his breath.
"Hurry, oh hurry," she moaned.
He was away from her suddenly, and she began to twist and turn on the seat in sheer impatience.
Then he was back, his fingers hooking the elastic of her wispy panties, his nails lightly scraping her flesh, and she braced her feet and arched her supple torso so that he could slip the scanty cloth over her hips.
"I don't know if this is right, but I can't help myself, I want you so," he said thickly as he prepared to take her.
"Come on," she gasped impatiently. "I can't stand it ... "
She experienced the thrill of expectancy as he lowered himself into her full embrace. The blood pounded in her ears as she let her pliant flesh open to his masculine onslaught. Quickly she locked herself to him, lacing her arms about his neck and knotting her fingers in his hair, gripping with her thighs, her breasts burrowing into his chest. A convulsive shiver of ecstasy went through her; a whimper caught at her constricted throat.
As the undulation of her hips fell into his strong, even rhythm, Sharon opened her mouth to his intense, roiling kiss. Wave after wave of mixed emotion and sensation flooded her being, an engulfing maelstrom that made her senses spin.
Grinding her supple thighs against his and delighting in their smooth-hard, velvety power, she returned pressure for pressure as they moved in a steadily increasing tempo.
Sex, she thought deliriously, sex with someone you deeply cared for-it was sublime. Nothing else could ever change that. It was truly the supreme expression of love.
"I love you, Vance!" she gasped, feeling she had to say it, just had to, because now she was absolutely sure.
Her accelerated breath steaming his ear, she stared unseeingly up at the dark roof of the car. Vance was surging against her, his zeal generating more excitement on her part. Then his body was bowing over hers, and she was arching her back quickly. It was as if white-hot explosions were going off inside her, and she emitted a loud cry....
They were silent during the ride to her home. Snuggled contentedly against Vance, filled with love for him and praying nothing would ever happen to change the way they felt about each other, Sharon did not let herself wonder about the curious look of withdrawal on his face.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sharon soaped her body vigorously, humming happily under her breath, and trying not to wonder how she was going to live through the day until that evening, when she would be seeing Vance again. They were to double date with Barbara and Keith; she had phoned the sultry blonde a few minutes ago and arranged it with her. Double dating was a lot of fun, and she especially wanted to show Vance off to Barbara.
Presently she braced herself delightedly under a hard spray, her head tipped back out of the way. She squeezed her eyes shut to evoke a sharp image of Vance.
Suddenly she was digging her nails into her stiffening breasts, a ripple of warm pleasure washing over her. Oh, she'd do anything for him, do anything to hold his love. He was her man! A wild feeling of elation pounded through her; she felt her entrails knot. God, their passion had been the most! Her spray tingling flesh throbbed in remembrance.
She moaned softly. Even in retrospect, it seemed she could again hear herself screaming in ecstasy. Her hands slipped sensuously down over the soft roundness of her belly and along her solid thighs as she marveled at the way her body could bring her such physical pleasure. It seemed fantastic.
She moved her hips voluptuously and grinned. She was proud of her flawless, svelte body and fiercely glad she had such a lovely one to lavish on Vance.
Shutting off the spray, she stood there dripping and looking pleased with herself, her expression that of a woman exulting in the way things were going for her.
"Love...." She spoke the word in a tone of exaltation.
She stepped out of the shower stall and began towelling her water-slick body, basking in the heady thought of being cradled against Vance again tonight, receiving and giving love. Standing naked before the bathroom mirror, she posed voluptuously as she examined herself. She surely did have a body that was made to please a man-any man. So full-blown and sinuous and inviting. She turned sideways and studied the spiked thrust of her firm breasts, cupped her hands under them in a giving gesture. It's what's up front that counts, she suddenly thought and giggled.
Next she checked the side view of her sloping belly, hip, thigh, knee and calf. Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she passed her hands lightly over the fleshy hips and thighs, liking the sensation produced by skimming these assets. She turned more about to eye the full sweep of her globular buttocks. Sweet, she thought.
Still standing there, looking at her naked reflection in the mirror, she happily recalled how she'd managed to convince Vance that their going all the way wasn't the least bit wrong.
"We love each other and so it's right and natural for us to do it," she had whispered shortly after their consummation of the sex act. "It isn't the least bit wrong, darling."
"Heaven knows how much I want to believe that, honey."
"You can believe it, truly." She let her face caress his, let her lips nuzzle his ear. "Besides," she could not resist saying, "everybody else does it."
He stirred slightly. "That doesn't justify our doing it."
She tightened her arms around him, holding him against her.
"Our love justifies it," she asserted. She kissed a comer of his mouth, gently rubbed the back of his neck with her fingers. "Darling, it would be harmful both mentally and physically not to do it," she told him. "Two people who are so in love as we are need to do it-absolutely need to, my darling."
Exultantly, she locked her fingers into his hair as he kissed her in a resurgence of desire.
Their passion had mounted again in a consuming blaze that burned brighter than ever. Sharon breathed hard for the moment, remembering. That second time had been over with an almost savage quickness.
Turning away from the mirror, she slid her feet into her mules, slipped on her bathrobe and returned to the bedroom.
She was starting to put on her panties, when the door opened and Brenda walked in.
"Boy, you just getting up?"
"I just came out of the shower." Sharon felt flustered by her cousin's bold, intimate stare. "Where were you?" she asked, pulling up the panties. "And where are Mama and Papa?"
"I was at the candy store. Mama and Papa had to go some place with Aunt Joyce. You sure look beautiful without any clothes on, Sharon. Real beautiful."
She blushed furiously, looking quickly away from Brenda's brazen blue eyes, and reached for her bra with trembling hands.
"Go away, will you," she said gruffly.
"What are you so nervous about?"
Brenda's mocking tone increased the confusion Sharon felt. She fumbled jerkily with the bra, encountering difficulty in putting it on because of the way her hands were shaking. What was the matter with her, anyway? She asked herself this, but she knew it had to do with the warm intimacy that had sprung up between them as an aftermath of the spanking she'd administered upon Brenda's naked, quivering buttocks. That warm intimacy shimmered between them now like something tangible. A fluttery beat started in the hollow at the base of her throat.
Abruptly she wheeled to face Brenda. "Will you stop staring at me and scoot, brat! "
Brenda grinned. With an insolent flick of her pony tail, she swaggered across the room, standing in front of Sharon, the provocative grin still on her face.
"And what if I don't?" she taunted. "You going to spank me again? You going to pull down my panties and spank my bare backside like you did yesterday?"
Sharon felt herself choking. "I-I...." she started to sputter.
Brenda thrust her face close to Sharon's, her eyes taking on a smoldering, sensuous look. Simultaneously she yanked away the bra that stubbornly resisted fastening.
"Are you crazy?" Sharon said shakily. "You go nuts or something ... "
"You started something, that's what," her saucy cousin breathed.
Sharon backed away a step.
"Will you give me back my bra and let me get dressed?" she demanded.
Brenda dangled it in front of her. "Here, take it."
But as she reached for it, Brenda whipped the dangling article behind her back and flashed a tantalizing grin. "You'll have to take it away from me," the young minx goaded. "Come on, try to take it away from me."
Sharon glared at her. "Give it to me! "
Brenda shook her head. She closed the distance between them in one insolent movement and jabbed a stiff forefinger into the sensitive softness of Sharon's stomach.
"You're going to have to make me," she said.
Sharon continued to glare at her. Unfazed, Brenda stuck her tongue out and wiggled it derisively.
That did it-sparked a burst of exasperation that quickly mushroomed within Sharon with the speed of a flash fire. She lunged forward at Brenda.
"I'll make you!" she cried.
But Brenda nimbly sidestepped her grab for her, uttering a shrill squeal. Then she giggled excitedly.
Sharon waggled her finger at her. "All right, you asked for it," she said tensely. "When I get hold of you, Brenda, I'm going to whack your bottom so hard you won't be sitting down for a whole week! "
"You have to catch me first," Brenda taunted, standing just out of reach. She kicked off her sandals. "Come on! "
Sharon stalked her, savoring the pursuit. She'd have her hands on her mocking cousin in one minute. Brenda retreated, backing away in a circle.
"Wait," she said suddenly. "Wait, Sharon."
"Hah! Turning chicken, brat?"
"No. I don't want my dress wrinkled. Wait a minute."
"Then give me my bra."
"No."
"Then-" Sharon prepared to pounce forward. "I said wait a minute!" Brenda cried, her eyes flashing.
Sharon stood rooted as Brenda dropped the dangling bra to the floor behind her and quickly pulled off her pastel dress. Then she also removed her half slip.
"Are you nuts?" Sharon said. "You didn't have to take off your half slip."
Brenda just grinned. She bent down and picked up Sharon's bra and dangled it in front of her.
"Come and take it from me, if you can," she challenged, and swayed her body.
Sharon regarded her with a sudden intentness, looking in particular at the excitement-dilated blue orbs that sparkled out of her cousin's brazen young face.
"Well, what you waiting for?" Brenda said impatiently.
"Let's drop this silly nonsense," Sharon said abruptly. "Hand over the bra and let me get dressed. And get back into your slip and dress."
What happened next took Sharon by surprise.
Brenda's hot blue eyes narrowed to slits in a hard gaze-a ruthless, sizzling look that sent an electric tremor up Sharon's spine. Then Brenda was suddenly bounding forward in a blur of movement, was springing upon her like a young sleek lioness. In her surprise, Sharon had no time to brace herself; she staggered back several steps as Brenda's driving weight hit her, lost her balance, and the two of them tumbled to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs.
Gasping for breath, she felt Brenda's legs wrap around her as she lay dazedly underneath, felt Brenda press down against her.
"You're going to do it," her young cousin hissed close to her gasping mouth. "You're going to spank me like you said! You're going to spank me as hard as you did yesterday, Sharon."
"You're squashing me," she gasped. "Get off me...."
Brenda's fingernails dug into her flesh. "Not till you promise to do it. I won't budge an inch until then. I've got to be spanked again; I can't help myself. I've just got to be! " she said wildly.
Incredulous, frightened by Brenda's savageness, Sharon cried, "All right! "
Instantly Brenda was up on one elbow, looking frantically down at her. "You better mean it, Sharon."
Suddenly Sharon was raging inwardly at Brenda for scaring her so. "Let me up," she said harshly. "I'm going to fan your tail, all right. I'm going to blister it! "
Her head throbbing fiercely, she chased Brenda onto the bed, where she pulled the little minx down across her lap, her fingers closing over the elastic band of the squealing girl's panties. She was so furious with Brenda and so angry with herself because she knew she had wanted to spank her that she ripped the wispy panties in yanking them down.
Slap!
Brenda yelped and writhed; her cry one of mixed joy and pain.
Her hand tingling, Sharon walloped the reddening buttocks with ever-increasing force. Slap! Slap! Slap! There was a swelling pounding within her, and she could feel the same strange pleasure stealing over her that she had experienced the first time she'd spanked Brenda. She couldn't understand it. Just as she couldn't understand why Brenda on her part wanted to be spanked, wanted to be hurt.
Brenda was moaning now, moaning and wincing and kicking her legs. Sharon did not relent. She went on slapping the beet-red buttocks methodically, striking savagely.
"No more! "
Brenda's shrill cry shattered her trance. She stopped her hand in mid-air and looked stupidly down at the blazing buttocks.
"God, you blistered me for sure, Sharon." Brenda's voice was hoarse and uneven. "But I asked for it."
"Oh, brat," Sharon wailed.
Brenda twisted over, stared wildly at her for an instant, then darted up against her and pushed her down on the bed. Sharon tensed as she felt her cousin's hand claw at her panties.
"Brenda, don't ... "
The wild teen-ager's hot mouth stilled Sharon's protest. She gurgled convulsively in her throat as the pressure of the demanding kiss forced her head back against the bed, and she grasped at Brenda to resist and push her away.
The thoroughly excited kid became more aggressive, and Sharon stiffened as she was touched boldly.
"Ohhh, Sharon...." The words were like a tortured groan.
Fierce strength surged through Sharon, and with a strong heave she managed to dislodge her cousin. She sprang to her feet, panting.
"Sharon...." Brenda gasped.
Sharon wheeled and bent forward and slapped her hard across the face.
"I'm shocked at you," she said tightly. "For you to act like that is a terrible thing. Terrible. You know that, don't you? Surely you must know that, Brenda."
"Yes," she whispered, rubbing her smarting cheek as she lay there on the bed and looked up at Sharon. Her lips quivered. "You ... you had a right to slap me. I-I guess it was terribly bad of me. It's just that I-I've grown so attached to you and all that." She suddenly burst into tears. "It w-was as if something made me want to do those things," she sobbed. "Oh, I'm wicked ... wicked ... and now have made you hate me...."
Anguish flooded Sharon. She sat on the edge of the bed and laid her hand on Brenda's shaking shoulder.
"You're not wicked," she said. "You're just kind of all mixed up. But you'll be all right now."
Brenda sniffled. "Then you don't hate me?"
"Of course not."
"That makes me feel better." Brenda raised her head, her wet eyes grateful. "I-I'll be all right now. I'm sorry for acting so awful...."
Sharon felt she understood what had brought about her young cousin's shocking actions. The treacherous sexual forces within Brenda's ripe body had been activated by the normally affectionate teen-ager's strong attachment for her, resulting in the kid's wrongful conduct.
And understanding that Sharon could only hope anxiously that Brenda wouldn't get into trouble be cause of the treacherous sexual forces.
CHAPTER NINE
Keith parked the convertible, its top up, near the center of the car-crowded drive-in theater lot, and Barbara hung the speaker on the window beside her and turned it on. The feature showing on the outdoor screen was a color western.
"Ride 'em cowboy!" Barbara cried exuberantly. "Ya-hooo! "
Sharon, sitting in the back seat with Vance, laughed along with the others.
"Don't turn it up so loud," Keith said as the effervescent blonde raised the volume, and she lowered the speaker's reproduction of the film's sound track.
Sharon nestled close to Vance. He smelled nicely of after-shaving lotion. She felt an inner tremor that made her nostrils flare slightly and her breath quicken. She didn't think she was going to be able to concentrate on the movie.
"You like westerns?" Vance murmured, and she nodded.
"Movies arc getting better and better," Barbara declared. "You know, more true to life. As they ought to be. The only people putting up a fuss about the way movies are more outspoken, more frank about things, are the hypocrites."
"Hear, hear," Keith said amusedly, and Barbara laughed.
"You know I'm right," she retorted laughingly.
"Why so quiet?" Sharon whispered to Vance after a while. "We can talk and watch the picture, like they're doing." Barbara and Keith were talking softly in the front seat. "Darling," Sharon added, warm intimacy in her sibilant voice. "You really don't mind our double dating with them, do you?" she asked.
He shook his head. "I said it's okay."
"I know you did, but-Well, I thought it'd be fun and I wanted them to meet you, darling."
"It's really okay, Sharon."
"If it's not that, then what is it? I can sense that something's the matter. You're so serious tonight."
"I get that way sometimes."
"No, something's the matter," she persisted, watching his face closely. "And it has to do with us. I know it. I felt it the minute I left my house with you, that something is troubling you, Vance."
"Maybe I'm still thinking of last night."
"Last night?"
She thought she understood suddenly, and her concern lessened considerably. "Oh, darling, do you mean your conscience is what's troubling you? Is that it?" she breathed. "Vance, there's no reason for either of us to feel sorry about what happened. I wanted it, my darling. I wanted it and am glad it happened. So very glad. Oh, you poor dear-" She touched his cheek in a soft caress, gently kissed a comer of his mouth. "I thought I'd made that plain to you last night. I thought I'd made you understand it was all right. I love you, and I wanted to show you how much in the only way I could."
"You showed me," he said quietly. "You showed me real good too. I didn't appreciate how good until I was taking you home."
Sharon laughed shakily. "Then how about showing me a little of that appreciation by giving me a kiss?"
For an instant there was no response from him. Then he bent his head and brushed his lips against hers.
"Is that supposed to be a kiss?" she breathed. "You can do better than that."
He pulled her hard against him and, his hand closing on the nape of her neck, kissed her with a fierceness that had her breath clogging in her throat. For a moment she was unresponsive, her heart banging against her chest wall. Then she was responding hotly to his bruising kiss, her mouth opening under his, her hands lifting to the back of his head, fingers digging spasmodically into his hair, and a moan of mingled pain and pleasure forming in her throat.
Imprisoned within his crushing embrace, she could not help but whimper as she felt his fingers dig cruelly into her neck as the savage kiss progressed. It was as if he were deliberately trying to hurt herBut no, it could not be so.
Abruptly Vance broke the kiss, jerking away from her.
Deeply shaken, she loosed a long, quaking sigh and slumped back in the seat. She touched her bruised lips with her knuckle. She tried to say something, but her lips wouldn't respond.
It was a moment before she was able to speak. ' 'You excelled yourself ... and then some, darling...."
"You asked for it," he said heavily.
His face looked curiously tense, strange. She attributed it to his sudden strong passion.
He fumbled with his pack of cigarettes. "Smoke?"
She accepted the cigarette, drew deeply on it as he lit it for her and exhaled gustily.
"We're missing the picture," he said tonelessly.
"I think my eyes have gone out of focus anyway, after that kiss," she said in an attempt at lightness.
He grinned and it seemed to break the tension in him. She snuggled her head contentedly against his comfortable shoulder, pulling his left arm around her, then grasping his hand and placing it on her breast.
They stayed that way, watching the western feature. Until Barbara suddenly craned her head around and asked them to change places with her and Keith.
They changed places, she and Vance getting into the front seat while Barbara and Keith got in the back.
"Easy, easy," she heard the blonde whisper to Keith. "Hold your horses a second, before you rumple me all up. And we're doing it my way this time. Now, c'mon."
Sharon stole a quick glance at Vance's face; it was devoid of expression, his eyes fixed front. Barbara kept talking low and intimate in an audible whisper.
"Stretch out more. That's it, that's just fine," the blonde whispered. "Yeah, you want to keep playing house with yours truly, man, you're going to do like I want. Easy, I said! "
Movement was suddenly shaking the car, a slight, tell-tale, bouncing motion. Heat flamed up within Sharon; she felt the hot blood rush to the surface of her skin and start to pound like crazy.
"Ohhh-h. Oh, you're in the groove, lover. Now go, go, go! Oh. Oh, God! Can't you keep up, man? That's it. Ohhh-h."
Sharon could not resist looking around. Barbara and Keith were interlocked on the back seat, and she saw that the energetic blonde was on top. It didn't surprise her very much, for it was characteristic of Barbara to want to be in control of things, even when it came to making love.
"They're sure lost, darling," she breathed shakily.
Vance didn't say anything; he seemed to have frozen.
"My darling," she whispered, aching inside with love for him.
She moved her body against him, kissed his taut cheek and let the moist tip of her tongue enter his ear. She felt him shiver and tighten his arm about her. She unbuttoned his shirt, slipped her hand inside and moved it around his chest. He wore no undershirt, and she let her hand stray freely over the warm skin as she nuzzled his cheek and ear with her lips. She could feel need building within her, the need of her flesh.
"What're you waiting for?" she whispered, lipping his ear. She rotated her palm against his flat male nipples. "Make love to me, dearest," she bade him shamelessly.
His head turned, and his eyes looked into hers with an intensity she could feel keenly. Mirrored in the piercing blue orbs was a kind of dullness akin to pain, and also something that bordered on revulsion. Sharon was taken aback by the look.
"You want me to make love to you right now?" he said stiffly. "You're asking me to do that with-with all these people about?"
She pressed herself against him. "Nobody's looking, they're all too busy watching the picture or making love themselves," she breathed huskily. "Come on. Please, darling."
She shifted, bringing her sharp-pointed breasts to bear on his chest, and pushed herself sensuously against him, rolling and thrusting the firm, conical mounds into his chest.
"Take me," she gasped imperatively. "Take me, Vance! "
She crushed her mouth against his, moaning, quivered convulsively, bit his lip and whipped her tongue between his teeth.
For an exquisite instant he responded with an ardor rivaling her own, as if he could not help himself. Then he was rudely thrusting her away from him, his square jaw hardening.
"No. No, Sharon," he said roughly. "I can't."
She felt as though she'd been slapped.
Her face burning like fire, she choked out, "What do you mean, you can't?"
"I just can't, that's all."
"But I want you to."
His expression turned wooden. "I'm sorry."
She stared at him, biting her lip in chagrin. "Don't you want to?" she pressed.
He rubbed the side of his face, looking away from her staring eyes. "Naturally I want to," he said slowly, "but not here and now."
His reluctance goaded her to hiss, "Here and now or not at all! "
His jaw set. "Then it'll be not at all, if that's the way you want it," he said quietly. "And maybe it's all for the best, Sharon."
All desire collapsed within her like a pricked balloon. A coldness came over her, a frightening pall that put a look of panic in her brown eyes and a pang in her heart.
"What do you mean-maybe it's all for the best?"
"Just that maybe it is," he said evasively.
"I thought you loved me," she said in a thin whisper. "That's what you said last night."
For a moment he said nothing, then he said, "I know."
She sat frozen, staring painfully, knowing that if he did not love her it would collapse her whole new world and smash it to pieces. If she lost him she lost everything, for he meant everything to her.
"Well, do you or don'tyou?" she whispered starkly.
He turned slowly and looked at her with troubled eyes. "Yes, I love you, Sharon. I do love you."
"Ohh-h, Vance!"
She put her arms tight about him, pressed her cheek against his, reaction making her tremble uncontrollably. She felt him groan.
"Oh, my darling, if you didn't love me I don't know what I'd do," she heard herself say.
She turned her head and kissed his cheek, then drew a shaking breath. "I can wait," she whispered, "I can wait till the next time we're alone for us to make love."
At that moment Barbara uttered a strangled scream of ecstasy, and Sharon could not help but thrill vicariously to it. There followed a hoarse groan and the slight bouncing motion of the car stopped. Then there was silence in the back seat.
"I-I guess they're done," she breathed to Vance.
He didn't say anything.
Presently she heard Keith say, "A human bomb with a hair-trigger, that's what you are, Barbara, baby. All that's needed to make you explode is touching off that hair-trigger of yours."
"Pure dynamite, that's me, lover," Barbara said. "Maybe I should carry a sign saying handle with care."
"And," Keith chuckled, "being a human bomb you'll never run out of explosions, and that makes you better than any bomb made, doll."
Barbara gave a throaty laugh.
"Hey, don't tell me you two are still looking at the picture?" she called out then.
"Maybe they want to stretch out here in back where it's more cozy," Keith suggested.
"Oh, yeah, sure. It's darker, too, back here. Well, let's change seats again and they can take their turn. But before they do, I'm going to get freshened up, and I want Sharon to go to the ladies' room with me. Come on, Sharon."
As she accompanied Barbara to the rest rooms, the blonde cracked, "Whew-w! Putting out is hot work. No matter which way you can take that up as meaning! "
Sharon thought the snickering girl looked positively wild and used up, the way her lipstick was smeared and her blonde hair was in disarray. She felt a faint repugnance and told herself she'd never walk to a public rest room looking as wild and disheveled in appearance as Barbara did.
They passed two girls coming out of the ladies' room, a short, husky, red-haired girl with freckles who looked about sixteen, and a taller, slender, darkhaired girl who looked somewhat older. Sharon couldn't help overhearing them.
"Ronnie didn't use anything," the short girl was saying worriedly. "I just hope he didn't make me pregnant."
"You'd better take a good hot bath when you get home, Deena," her tall companion advised. "That Ronnie ought to know better! "
"The stupid little jerk," Barbara sneered after them. "She ought to've known better than to let him. It's like I told you, Sharon. Only jerks get themselves in trouble."
"She's just a kid," Sharon murmured.
"But she knew the risk, so that's no excuse. A girl always has got to be careful. That means making sure a guy uses something, or else taking other precautionary measures."
"I guess you're right," Sharon agreed.
Inside the ladies' room, Barbara giggled a little at her reflection in the mirror. "Hey, I look a mess," she said.
Sharon started to nod her head, then caught herself.
"Well, a quick repair job on my face and a comb will have me presentable in a jiffy," the blonde chuckled, straightening her dress with little tugs of her hands. "I'm pretty expert at that, too. Oh, by the way, Sharon-" She turned.
Sharon met her sultry gaze. "Yes?"
"I want you to spend tomorrow afternoon with me. Come over to my house, say about one-thirty-Okay?"
"Okay."
Barbara smiled. "Good. Now don't forget, huh?"
They were returning to the convertible, cutting between the parked cars toward it, when a tall, well-built youth stepped out in front of them and stopped, blocking their way. He wore a sardonic expression on his lean face, his mouth twisted in a slight semblance of a smile.
"Hi, Barbara," he drawled, his eyes boring into Sharon's widening eyes. "I didn't know this stuck-up chick was a friend of yours."
"Hello, Chet," Barbara said coolly. "What're you talking about?"
"She knows what I'm talking about," he said tensely. "Don't you, babe?" he addressed Sharon. "What's the matter, ain't I good enough for you to dance with? And what was the idea of giving me that dirty look last night when I passed you on the highway? I don't like being treated that way by a dame. By anybody. But I'll tell you what-seeing that you're a friend of Barbara here, I'm willing to forget what happened and give you another chance. Hell, I'm not a bad guy," he smirked. "Ask Barbara, she'll tell you. Come on, Barbara, introduce me proper-like."
"I don't know what it's all about with you two," Barbara said, "but, Sharon, this is Chet, a guy I dated during my first week in town. Chet, this is Sharon."
The yellow-haired youth grinned broadly. "There you are, Sharon, now we can start like from scratch. And I'll tell you now, babe, that if you're half as good white meat as Barbara here that'll be good enough for me. Yeah, I'm not so very hard to please. How's about a kiss to start off our friendship right?"
Before Sharon could fend him off he was upon her, his arms closing around her and pulling her quickly against him, his smirking mouth assaulting hers. She writhed inwardly, revolted by his kiss.
When he freed her, she slapped his face as hard as she could. He stood stunned for an instant, then rage contorted his livid face.
"Why, you little-" He lunged at her with a curse and caught her arm in a crushing grip.
Sharon screamed as he backhanded her across the face.
"You've been asking for this," he snarled. "Leave her alone, you son-of-a-bitch," Barbara shrilled.
Suddenly he was being pulled backwards by someone who had rushed up behind him and grabbed him. Sharon stumbled loose.
"Chet, cut it out. Leave the girl alone. You'll have a dozen guys coming at you to tear you apart! "
"Okay, okay," he snarled to the bespectacled youth who had hold of him. "But she needs a lesson."
"You need a lesson," Barbara yelled at him. "You lousy creep. That's why I quit dating you, because you're such a creep. G'wan, blow before I start screaming myself."
"What did I do to you, you frigging tramp?" he said hoarsely to the infuriated blonde.
"Let's get outta here," the bespectacled youth cried frantically, pulling at him. "For chrissakes, Chet! "
"Yeah, take him back to his hole," Barbara snarled.
Badly shaken by the incident, Sharon leaned weakly against the seething blonde, who was quick to put an arm around her.
"I'd like to jab a knife into that dirty so-and-so for hitting you," Barbara muttered. "He hurt you bad?"
Sharon shook her head. "No, it just stings. I'll be all right in a minute. Please don't say anything about it. I don't want Vance to know."
"I'll keep mum." Barbara's arm tightened in a possessive way around her. "Don't you fret. Don't you fret about a thing, honey."
CHAPTER TEN
Sharon left for Barbara's apartment shortly past one o'clock Monday afternoon.
It was warm out, the sun a yellow ball of fire in the slightly hazy, azure sky. Sharon put on her sun-glasses and, in high spirits, walked with a sprightly gait.
Ten minutes later she was ringing Barbara's bell. The answering buzz sounded, opening the inner door, and Sharon entered the inner hall and started up the stairs.
She was halfway up, when Barbara opened her door and stepped out, standing there at the top of the stairway tall and statuesque in tight white shorts and white halter, her blue eyes aglow, crimson lips parted slightly, and her lustrous blonde hair spilled breathtakingly about her smooth, bare, sculptured shoulders.
"You're right on time, Sharon," she said. "That's what I call being punctual."
"I always try to be," Sharon said.
She followed the lithe blonde into the apartment, her gaze dropping for a second look at those tight white shorts. They fitted Barbara far too intimately, but if Barbara wanted to wear them that high and tight that was her business. She could see the tell-tale ridges of Barbara's panties showing through the shorts as the blonde's buttocks swelled and went tight against the shorts with every step she took.
"It's such a nice day out," she remarked.
"Yes, I know."
Barbara flicked her hand toward the davenport. "Park yourself while I go mix a drink. Be back in two shakes! "
Sharon grinned after her in appreciation, watching the smooth, cat-like play of muscles ripple along the girl's tawny legs and thighs as she headed for the kitchen. Then she settled herself more comfortably on the davenport, leaning back and crossing her legs at the ankles.
Barbara returned with laughter bubbling on her lips. "Here you are, honey. A highball that's guaranteed to hit that good ol' spot with a zing! "
It did just that, its potent content eliciting a gasp from Sharon.
"Tastes terrific, huh?" Barbara bubbled.
"I'll say."
"Drink it up and I'll go mix us another." And Barbara proceeded to down her highball in a steady swallowing action, draining the glass and smacking her lips afterward. "Ahh-h. I can really pep up a highball, if I must say so myself. Hurry and finish yours, slowpoke."
Sharon laughed and drank up the remaining tangy liquid in one long swallow, tasting the cold burn of the whiskey Barbara had loaded the drink with all the way down.
"That's more like it," the blonde grinned.
"I don't think I care for another, Barbara."
"You're getting another just the same. I believe in showing a guest of mine true hospitality."
"All right," Sharon laughed, "if it makes you happy."
"It does, doll."
Bringing in the second round of drinks, Barbara gushed, "Some day I'm going to write a book about my life. You know, about my experiences. I sure have had quite a few. All educational stuff, for a fact! "
"Oh, Barbara, you're fabulous," Sharon smiled.
"That's me, fabulous. Hey, I think you've given me the title for my book ... 'Fabulous Barbara'. A perfect title. Here, toss this off like you did the other and prepare to feast your big brown eyes on physical poetry."
"On what?" Sharon said, taking the glass Barbara held out.
"On physical poetry-you know, poetry in motion. I've improvised a sexy dance for Keith's benefit, and you're going to be treated to a sneak preview. I want to know what you think of it."
"What I think of it?"
"Well, actually I want to do it as a dress rehearsal." Barbara suddenly giggled. "Did I say dress rehearsal? Anyway, you get the idea. We're going to pretend that you're Keith while I'm doing my dance. So pour that highball down your gullet and let's get with it, huh?"
Much as she didn't like the idea, Sharon could not bring herself to tell Barbara so. She wondered just what sort of sexy dance Barbara would perform, and found herself hoping that it would not embarrass her whatever the dance was like.
"I do it to music," Barbara added. "I mean I have this record, 'Exotic Paradise', that I use as background music for my improvised dance."
"Like I said, Barbara, you're simply fabulous."
The coziness of the living room was heightened by the deep throbbing music flowing from the record player, and Sharon felt the rhythmic beat take hold of her.
Hands on her hips, arms akimbo, Barbara stood looking down at Sharon for a minute, smiling a most seductive smile. Then she said throatily, her tongue flicking out wetly over her lips, "Okay, here I go into my dance. Remember, we're pretending you're Keith."
Running her long artistic fingers down her tawny thighs, the sensual blonde suddenly raised one shapely leg and stretched it out toward Sharon. She held that pose for an instant, then dropped the leg and pivoted adroitly, glancing saucily over her shoulder and calling Sharon's attention to her piquant face and the allure of her bare back.
With a throaty laugh Barbara twisted her superbly molded body, kicked off her pointed-toed pumps, twisted herself again, her red-lacquered toenails flashing redly, and performed a graceful little leap. She pirouetted more quickly, arching her upper body so her jutting breasts stood out in bold profile, then glided toward Sharon with outstretched arms, stopping short before her to cup the jutting, halter-leashed breasts and push them forward in a wanton gesture. Sharon's gaze wavered and the beginning of a blush warmed her cheeks.
Her red mouth parted in wicked invitation, Barbara raised her arms above her head as she commenced to roll her hips, then quickly arched her back to proffer her rolling hips in an offering of love. A wave of embarrassment swept over Sharon, but she continued to watch Barbara's movements as if hypnotized.
Suddenly whirling away, the blonde girl performed a series of little leaps and gyrations, her sinuous gestures calling attention to the exciting mature curves of her splendid figure. Sharon felt herself caught up in the breathtaking whirl of the sexy dance.
Barbara came gliding back, passed her fluttering hands close to Sharon's face, stood swaying slowly very close to Sharon, who grew uncomfortable but was powerless to pull her eyes away from Barbara's stare. It felt like her eyes were locked in those glittering blue orbs.
An involuntary gasp parted Sharon's lips, and she shivered as Barbara patted her cheek in a caressing movement of one fluttering hand. A tiny blue flame seemed to leap toward her from Barbara's eyes.
With a low guttural chuckle Barbara danced away, twisting and undulating. Then she pivoted about, facing Sharon, and with a sudden sinuous motion reached behind her back with both hands and whipped off the white halter the next instant. The twin globes of flesh bounced and quivered as the cups confining them came off. Sharon's mouth went completely dry.
Swiftly taking the exposed breasts in her hands, Barbara kept them pointed at Sharon while her artistic fingers manipulated the nipples which were already hard, betraying Barbara's excitement. Sharon looked away in burning embarrassment and confusion.
"Look at me!" Barbara hissed. "Keep looking at me!"
She was weaving slowly once more, moving slowly toward Sharon with mincing steps, teeth bared in a wanton smile, hands fluttering about her swaying hips. Acutely conscious of the hot blush on her face and the palpitation of her heart, Sharon sat transfixed. A trickle of perspiration under her armpits made her flesh quiver.
This time Barbara leaned down upon reaching her, thrusting the hard-nippled flesh into her face. In burning, breath-clogged confusion, Sharon tried to draw back, but Barbara was too quick for her. The blonde's hands shot out with the speed of a striking cobra, locking behind Sharon's head and forcing her face into the billowy breasts.
The heat of Barbara's body together with the heady smell of Barbara's perfume made Sharon dizzy and lightheaded. She squirmed feebly and Barbara exerted still more pressure on her head.
"You're playing the part of Keith," the blonde hissed. "Kiss me there, hurry!"
Against her will Sharon timidly kissed Barbara's breasts.
Releasing her abruptly, Barbara stepped back, and Sharon gulped in air. Her pulse was racing frantically, and hot waves of heat were sweeping through her body. She knew her face was beet-red.
Barbara began weaving slowly again, desire-dilated eyes fixed on Sharon's face. The record ended at that moment, but the blonde girl continued her sinuous movements as though not aware the music had stopped.
"Keep looking at me," she bade Sharon imperiously.
Her fluttering hands went to the waistband of her tight white shorts, lingered there long enough to unzip and push them down over her hips. They dropped to her scarlet-tipped feet, and she stepped out of them. Raising her arms, she stood straight and haughty in front of Sharon.
Drinking in the loveliness of Barbara's stately nakedness, Sharon's wide-eyed gaze involuntarily settled on the lower curve of the girl's sloping belly and flanking thighs. Her breath caught in her throat. She felt she knew how this striking sight of Barbara in the nude would affect Keith or any other man. With a perceptible effort, she pulled her gaze upward, a constricting tightness assailing her throat.
The blood beating in her face and temples, her heart slugging almost painfully, Sharon watched the naked blonde raise one long leg and point it at her, then drop it and glide forward with unmistakable purpose burning in her blue orbs. She wanted to jump up and flee from Barbara, but she sat there powerless to move a muscle, held fast by Barbara's lustful expression.
Then Barbara was upon her once more, wrapping her arms around her and cutting off her incipient protest with a smothering kiss.
Sharon's senses spun as she was compelled to yield to that passionate kiss, and her breath rattled in her throat as Barbara's tongue forced its way past her lips and speared deep. She clutched weakly at the girl's naked form, her hands skidding over the taut, muscular, sweat-slick, sleekness of Barbara's satiny back.
"That was just fine," Barbara whispered presently, her warm, sweetish breath flowing into Sharon's flared nostrils. Her muscular arms came away from Sharon and she straightened up, flouncing her blonde hair and licking her crimson lips, a curious determined expression on her face as she looked down at Sharon. "Just fine," she repeated throatily. "Come on, let's go finish up on the bed, honey. This davenport, big as it is, can't match a bed for comfort and roominess, and I'd rather not cramp my style in any way."
What she was now proposing shocked Sharon to the core. It was as though Barbara had doused her with a bucket of ice water. It seemed incredible that Barbara could be like this.
"Wait, I think I'll carry you to the bed, honey."
"No," Sharon gasped, pale and shaken.
"But I want to," Barbara purred, reaching for her.
Sharon stiffened as the blonde stooped to pick her up. A wave of panic rolled over her. She could not let it happen; she could not alienate herself from normal love.
"No, Barbara!" she cried frantically. "Yes, honey, oh yes."
Barbara got her arm under Sharon's thighs and picked her up with surprising ease. Sharon struggled helplessly in the girl's strong grasp, the blood pounding in her ears.
"Put me down, Barbara, please! "
"That's what I aim to do, honey-please. We're going to please each other."
The tall, muscular blonde carried her into the bedroom, dumped her on the bed and was astride her the next instant. Sick with shock and dismay, Sharon groaned loudly and shook her head wildly.
"No, no, no. Let me up, Barbara."
"What gives with you?" the blonde hissed. "First you're co-operating nicely, and now you're putting up a crazy fuss. Quit it, will you?" She gripped Sharon's wrists and forced her arms quickly down. "I smartened you up about things, so it's only fair you do something for me. Now start pleasing me."
She leaned down and Sharon went rigid.
"No, I couldn't do that," she gasped. "Please, Barbara, this is wrong ... "
Barbara gave a sharp snort of mixed exasperation and frustration. "There's nothing wrong about having some fun, and fun is fun no matter who you're having it with. God, you still need to learn! Now c'mon, huh?"
Sharon whimpered as Barbara's fingers dug hard into her hair and pulled her head up slightly to accept the warm and full breasts.
"You're hurting me," she gasped.
"Then co-operate!" Barbara cried in a voice raw with impatience. Eyes smoldering, she twisted her fingers in Sharon's hair. "I can make you do as I want, but I'd rather have it be a thing of mutual accord. I'm a girl who gets her own way, and I can be very nasty about it if necessary. So don't start giving me a hard time." Her fingers tightened in another cruel twist that caused Sharon's eyes to blink and roll in pain.
"I can't," Sharon moaned. "I just can't."
"You can and you will. You're not stopping now, not short of pleasing me you ain't, doll."
Her hard expression frightened Sharon, and in that instant of fear she knew without a shadow of doubt that Barbara Zarett was a cruel, conscienceless girl at heart.
Softening her curt voice somewhat but not her level hard glare, Barbara said thinly, "Look, I don't want to be nasty with you, so why not be a sport about this? Come on, it'll be loads of fun for both of us, honey," she coaxed. "You don't want us to stop being friends, do you?"
Scared though she was, Sharon said, "I can't help that."
"I'll tell you what, honey. I'll please you first, how's that? I'll please you in every way, show you what sex is really meant to be like. Let's get your clothes off."
But as Barbara started to open the front of her dress, Sharon grabbed the girl's wrists to stop her.
"Don't," she pleaded. "Please don't, Barbara."
"Let go of my wrists," the blonde warned, her eyes flashing and her lips thinning to a grim red slash.
Sharon released them quickly.
"Now relax and lay still," Barbara said with a vicious smile.
Evidently confident that victory was hers, the naked blonde girl opened Sharon's dress with fingers that were deft and sure, slipped the dress down off her shoulders, then reached under her to get at the clasp of her bra.
"Lift up so I can-that's fine. There."
Sharon's firm breasts popped whitely into view as Barbara removed the bra. "They're lovely," Barbara purred and bent her head, brushing the tip of her tongue across the nipples. Sharon drew in her breath sharply. The nipples stirred and became stiff. In spite of herself, Sharon felt a flame of desire kindled within her by Barbara's teasing tongue.
"Oh, I can't wait," the blonde breathed huskily. "Get all your clothes off, quick! "
Sharon looked away from her lustful face, shuddering. She knew she could not go through with it, not willingly anyway, because if she did she would not be able to live with herself.
"No," she cried. "Get away from me!"
Barbara's eyes flashed hot and angry again and she resisted Sharon's renewed effort to dislodge her.
"You want to be forced, okay!" she spat, her face twisting into a mask of cruelty.
Her hands turned into claws that fastened themselves around Sharon's throat, thumbs digging in sharply, and Sharon felt pain lance through her head and knot behind her bulging eyes. Her agonized breath rasped deep in her tortured throat. She grabbed Barbara's wrists and pulled frantically, trying to tug those throttling claws off her throat.
She heard Barbara curse, felt the terrible pressure on her throat increase, clamping tighter and tighter around the yielding flesh. She stiffened rigidly, choking, air cut off completely by Barbara's rage-distorted face above her, and she knew the furious blonde intended to choke her into submission.
"Nobody crosses me," Barbara hissed wildly. "But nobody! You're going to do as I want and like it! "
In sheer desperation and fright, knowing that in another moment she would be choked into unconsciousness and perhaps strangled altogether, Sharon struck out at Barbara's pointed chin with all the strength she could muster.
Her clenched fist caught Barbara squarely on target, and the deranged blonde blinked hard, relaxing her stranglehold. Sucking air into her raw windpipe, Sharon quickly followed up that punch to the chin with another that crashed flush against Barbara's jaw. It jarred the girl to the core of her being evidently, for her blue eyes rolled upward in her head weirdly and she started to pitch sideways.
Digging her elbow into the bed for support, Sharon heaved the toppling girl off her with a twisting hard shove of her body, and, as Barbara sprawled on her side close to the edge of the bed, brought her knee up hard into the blonde's belly, then pushed her off the bed. Barbara fell heavily to the floor.
Leaving the bed in a frantic bound, Sharon pulled up the top of her dress and buttoned it, breaking a fingernail in her hurry. She was shaking all over, her heart thudding painfully.
Barbara uttered a sickly moan and stirred slightly, quivering. Her eyes started opening slowly. Sharon turned and ran out of the room.
As she dashed out of the apartment and down the stairs, nearly tripping herself in her headlong flight, she knew she had made an enemy of Barbara Zarett.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Brenda Coe hurried over to her girl friend's house that Monday evening, exulting. Did she have news for Val!
Valerie herself opened the door. A petite redhead with deep green eyes, pouting lips, her hair cut in a square bang over her forehead, Valerie Ruskell was a few months younger than Brenda in age.
"Hi," she said warmly, breaking into a bright smile of welcome as she invited Brenda in. "I was about to go take a bath when the bell rang, so you didn't drop by a minute too soon. Another minute and I'd've been in the tub."
"What I have to tell you won't take but a few minutes, Val," Brenda told her, stepping past her into the house.
"You mean you aren't going to stay awhile? You can if you want."
"Well...." Brenda found herself listening for the usual household noises. They were lacking, which prompted her to ask, "Isn't anybody else home, Val?"
Valerie shook her head as she shut the door. "No, just me. Mom and Dad have gone to Keeler's Auction Mart, taking little Susan with them, and my brother's out some place; they won't be home for hours, I guess. That's why I hope you can stay and keep me company for a while. I was going to take a bath out of plain boredom, simply to be doing something other than watching television by myself. Can you stay, Brenda-please?"
Brenda hesitated before answering. But there was a sudden strange eagerness racing through her at the thought of being alone with Valerie, having the house to themselves. A pulsing feeling.
"Okay," she said, nodding, "but take your bath anyway."
"But I've no reason to now that you're here," Valerie smiled. "Come on, let's go sit in the parlor. Now," Valerie said once they were seated on the sofa, "what do you have to tell me?"
"It's about that boy I raved over the other night-Davey Weems," Brenda gushed.
"What about him?"
"I'm going to date him! "
Valerie's eyes widened. "But you told me your parents won't allow you to date until you're sixteen," she said slowly.
Brenda nodded. "I know I did. But yesterday Sharon talked them into changing their minds and allowing me to date now."
"Sharon did that for you?"
"Yes, wasn't it wonderful of her?"
"I'll say," Valerie murmured.
Brenda leaned toward her, letting her hand rest on Valerie's arm. "I can't wait till Davey asks me for a date again, so I can tell him yes. He's simply dying to date me."
"Gee, lucky you," Valerie said wistfully. "I wish I had someone to talk my parents into allowing me to date now. I sure envy you, Brenda."
"How about your brother? Can't you get him to talk to them, Val?"
"Him?" Valerie made a face. "He's as unreasonable as they are. He says I'm way too young to date yet-way too young, mind you-and would only get myself in trouble."
"He must take you for an awful dope."
"He does."
"Well, I wish I could help you, Val."
Valerie looked very sad, was suddenly biting her underlip. "I suppose your being able to date now will mean we won't be seeing much of each other any more. You'll be spending most of your time with this Davey."
"Of course not!" Brenda exclaimed. "I mean, I'll be seeing you just as much as ever. Until I'm sixteen I'll be going out with Davey only now and then. You see, while I am now allowed to date, it's with the condition I do so only occasionally till I reach sixteen."
Valerie brightened. "Oh."
"So I'll still have plenty of time for you. Even when I am sixteen, Val."
"You're the best friend a girl could ever have, Brenda."
"So are you. If you were a boy I'd date you in a minute," Brenda said roguishly, leaning toward the petite redhead, her blue eyes boring into Valerie's eyes. "You'd make a beautiful boy, Val. I'd find us an out-of-the-way place and then-" Brenda lowered her voice to a bare whisper. "And then-"
Valerie squirmed on the sofa, blushing a deep pink. She giggled and gasped softly, "Ooh, you're giving me goose bumps."
"And then," Brenda whispered sensuously, "I'd just eat you up!"
"Oh, Bren-n-da-a."
"I would," she grinned.
Valerie looked at her and giggled again. But her elfin features were now mantled with high color from her slim neck to her hair roots. Brenda wanted to take her into her arms and press a kiss upon that giggling mouth. But she held back, knowing it was not yet time to make an overt move. Not just yet.
"You shouldn't talk like that," Valerie stammered.
Brenda laughed lightly. "I know, I'm giving you goose bumps. Well, I better be leaving now-"
Valerie quickly caught her arm. "Oh, I thought you were staying."
"No, I'm keeping you from taking your bath."
Valerie blew out her lips in exasperation. "How many times do I have to tell you that I was only going to take a bath because I became bored with watching television."
"So you say. But I don't know-" Brenda acted dubious. "Could be you're just putting it off on my account."
"Oh! " Valerie fumed, her green eyes flashing. She stamped her foot in perplexity. "Oh, I-" she broke off abruptly. She drew a breath. "There's only one way to settle the matter," she said decisively. "I'll take a bath. But you won't have to leave, Brenda, because it'll take no more than fifteen minutes. You can watch television in the meantime...."
"No," Brenda said. There was a tight, breathless sensation in her chest. She shook her head at Valerie. "No, I have to see you do it, or how else will I know you're really taking it? Oh, there's nothing to be embarrassed about, Val," she hastened to say. "You're a girl, I'm a girl. So come on."
Valerie looked uncertain.
Staring directly into her eyes, Brenda took her gently by the arm. Valerie visibly swallowed and her eyes flickered. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it wordlessly. Brenda squeezed her arm.
"I'll scrub your back for you," she said persuasively. "You'll like it. There's nothing like having your back scrubbed for you. Sharon used to scrub mine for me."
"She did?"
Brenda chuckled. "I was a mischievous child and would splash soap suds in her face."
Valerie laughed. The embarrassed tension in her seemed broken. Once again Brenda became terribly conscious of the strange tingling within her, and she found herself appraising the curves of Valerie's figure in definite desire. Tremors of excitement sped along her legs, rendering the insides of her thighs warm.
"All right, come on," Valerie said, her eyes dancing.
"That's better," Brenda smiled.
Valerie undressed, then stood with downcast eyes as they waited for the tub to fill with the running water. Brenda was unable to keep her eyes off the redhead's nakedness. A shiver of anticipation shook her.
Valerie was lovely, Brenda thought. Insidious desire grew in her. Valerie's young breasts were small and pointed, the nipples like tiny rubies. A hot flash of desire zipped through Brenda, parting her quivering lips.
"Hey," she said, breaking the sudden strained silence, "you can climb in the tub now. Go ahead."
As Valerie carefully stepped into the tub Brenda could not resist giving the perky buttocks a pat. She felt them contract beneath her hand as Valerie flinched from the touch, and she chuckled.
"I'm going to do you good, Val," she said softly.
Valerie sat down quickly and lowered her head as if she could not look up at Brenda, her face stained deep pink again. Brenda gnawed her lips and made a quick decision.
Bending down she cupped Valerie's chin in her hand and raised the girl's head, their eyes colliding and holding. "I'll tell you what, Val. I'll undress and get in the tub with you."
Valerie's embarrassed air vanished and her green eyes sparkled. "Oh, good," she said. "I'll feel better, as I can't help feeling funny being naked like this while you have your clothes on."
Getting in the tub with Valerie hadn't been part of her scheme, but Brenda now found herself excited by the idea. With trembling hands she took off her clothes. She saw Valerie's eyes dart to her slim loins and then look quickly away. Drawing a breath, she got into the tub, lowering herself behind Valerie.
"Pass me the soap," she breathed, her flesh burning where it touched Valerie. .
Before she applied the soap to the smooth surface of Valerie's back Brenda impulsively pressed her lips to the hollow between Valerie's shoulders, and she felt Valerie shiver as though from a chill.
"You've got a lovely back," Brenda whispered.
While Valerie sat submissively, her face flushed with pleasure, Brenda used the bar of soap with vigor, laving her back from the nape of her neck to the end of her spine.
"Okay, now let yourself go all limp so I can do you all over, Val," she said presently. "You know, droop like a soggy dishrag."
Valerie laughed and went flaccid in Brenda's arms.
With soaring excitement Brenda shifted her this way and that, scrubbing vigorously. Valerie's face grew extremely flushed, high color playing in her cheeks with every breath she took, and her eyes closed halfway and seemed to glaze over. In a burst of sheer exultance Brenda moved her free hand over the redhead's breasts, briefly squeezing the hard little points.
"Isn't this much better than scrubbing yourself?" she murmured.
Valerie nodded, but said nothing.
"I knew you'd like it, Val." Brenda wrapped her arms playfully around Valerie's small waist. "I told you that." She tried to sound casual and natural about it, but could feel the sharp desire affecting her voice. The sharp desire that made her want to kiss Valerie's parted lips, now, this moment.
With an effort she drew away from Valerie, leaning back against the side of the tub. "Well, let me rest a minute, Val, and then I'll hook up the shower gadget and rinse you off."
"You scrubbed so hard I tingle," Valerie said unevenly, turning her head to look at Brenda. "Tingle all over...."
Brenda could not hold back this time. She pulled Valerie down against her shoulder and firmly placed her mouth on Valerie's parted lips.
She felt the girl stiffen in surprise; felt the sudden taut trembling of her own body. Then she felt Valerie give in to her firm kiss.
It seemed so natural, and Brenda deepened the sensual kiss, savoring the sweetness of Valerie's mouth. Valerie shivered in her embrace and a moan pushed out of her throat, increasing Brenda's excitement, but did not try to pull away. Finally, Brenda released her, sighing gustily.
"Let me rinse you off now," she said breathlessly.
Hooking up the shower hose to the faucet, Brenda crouched over Valerie and played the spray on her body, washing away the soap suds. She chuckled impulsively as Valerie cringed when the hard spray hit her breasts and stomach.
Then they were out of the tub and toweling themselves dry.
"Now, to make you really feel in the pink, a nice massage is what you need next, Val. You have to lie down for that, so we'll use your bed."
Her face flushed again, Valerie obediently led Brenda to her bedroom. Brenda clicked on the bedside lamp, illuminating the bed, and gestured for Valerie to lie down. She complied.
Wide-eyed and with her expression mirroring curiosity, the supine redhead watched her and Brenda could feel her own face flush. A wave of emotion swept over her, putting a sudden weakness in her limbs, and she sank down on the edge of the bed. She felt a sudden guilt that dulled the heady anticipation Valerie's nakedness had fired within her; she felt wicked. It disturbed her, yet she was unable to quell the growing sexual need within her body ... a driving need she hungered to satisfy.
"Well?" Valerie murmured.
Brenda managed a smile. "You have to turn over," she instructed, trying to summon the will power to overcome her craving desire.
Valerie lay on her stomach and Brenda bent forward from the waist, telling herself she had to go through with the motions of giving her a massage. And with her pulses pounding erratically, she moved her hands across Valerie's flawless back, rubbing gently. .
But soon Brenda was stimulated more than ever, excitement again surging within her. Vainly she tried to check the treacherous sensation, but somehow became more aroused.
She drew back, her heart pounding violently now and a film of sweat across her forehead. She swallowed hard. Valerie stirred, craned her head to look at her.
"You can turn over," Brenda answered the question in her eyes. "You can get up, as a matter-of-fact," she forced herself to add, the tumult within her causing the words to slur together.
Valerie stared up at her, the small breasts rising and falling as she lay on her back with legs slightly apart. "Aren't you going to give me a complete massage?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
The strange emphasis in her words made Brenda's throat constrict. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. There was a brightness in Valerie's green eyes and in them Brenda saw entreaty. Dryness parched her mouth and she licked her lips.
Valerie's lips moved again. "Please, Brenda."
"Val...." she said faintly, as the girl reached up and pulled her hands and pressed them against her breasts.
Momentarily giddy, Brenda tried feebly to withdraw her hands. But she had not expected Valerie to react this way, and it was a revelation that sapped her will power. Sapped it utterly. And so with an involuntary cry she suddenly pressed her head against Valerie's breasts, letting her hands clutch at Valerie's flesh.
Valerie squirmed in sensual surrender, sighing, and they clung together on the bed. Brenda was overwhelmed by the intensity of Valerie's own hungers.
"Oh, Brenda-a ... "
With mixed feelings of guilt and desire, Brenda kissed and touched until the supine redhead was tense with excitement. She pressed closer to her, forcing her supple body against Valerie.
"Val ... sweet Val! " she groaned excitedly.
Things became really hectic.
"Oh, don't stop, Brenda. Don't stop."
She couldn't have stopped herself even if she'd wanted to. She was past the point of no return.
Valerie gave a muffled cry as Brenda's nails convulsively embedded themselves in her skin, and Brenda felt in turn the hard bite of Valerie's nails. But she was oblivious to pain at that frantic moment, lost as she was in overwhelming tension.
Relief.
With a shuddering, hoarse sigh Brenda slumped away from Valerie and lay still. The calm after the storm. Beside her, she felt Valerie quiver and she turned her head to look at her. Valerie's eyes were glazed and her hair was wild. Brenda saw her quiver again, a long shiver that rippled her slim, alabaster body.
Brenda felt renewed guilt. How could she have let herself do it? she thought. Yet she knew she had been utterly helpless to stop herself, and a wash of new heat flooded her face as she recalled that Valerie had wanted it to happen. Remembering that, she felt her guilty feeling abate a little. But she knew too it was she who had brought about the uncontrollable situation.
Presently she turned on her side and raised herself up on one elbow, leaning over Valerie, who looked glassily at her. Brenda touched her arm and the flesh was hot and steaming to her touch.
"Val," she whispered huskily.
Comprehension came into Valerie's eyes, rousing her from her trance-like state. Brenda saw the slight color that appeared on her cheeks. She drew a finger along her arm and Valerie shivered.
"Are you all right, Val?"
"Yes," Valerie whispered, her green eyes looking enormous in her slender face.
Brenda drew a choking breath. "I-I don't know what to say about-about what happened ... "
"It's okay. It wasn't your fault, Brenda. I made you and that makes it mine." Valerie neither sounded nor looked sorry. She nibbled her lips. "I guess it was because I wanted so much to be loved by someone...." her voice trailed away and she averted her eyes. Then she said, "I just don't count with my parents."
Brenda flushed guiltily. "No," she said, knowing that she couldn't possibly let Valerie take the blame. "It wouldn't have' happened if I'd not started the whole thing, Val."
Valerie lifted her gaze, and at that moment someone came rushing across the room.
"You dirty little bitches! "
Valerie screamed.
Stunned, Brenda felt herself dragged off the bed. It was Valerie's big brother George, who had unexpectedly returned home. His face was twisted with rage.
"Oh, you bitches! " he grated.
Brenda cowered before him. Valerie started sobbing, and George slapped her with such force that the imprint of his hand stood out on her chalk-white face in flaming redness. Valerie screamed hysterically, and Brenda's mind seemed to darken.
George turned his attention to her, his face working. She stood rooted, too numb to move, and he caught her arm in a vise-like grip. She felt her heart pound wildly.
"As for you, if you ever come bitching around my sister again I'll make you damn sorry," he said tensely. "Now go put on your clothes and get the hell out." He shoved her away.
Her paralysis broken, Brenda hurriedly complied. She stumbled out of the house on legs that threatened to buckle beneath her.
Her mind engulfed in fear, Brenda wished she were dead.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Vance Balbo was lounging against the fender of a Buick hardtop talking with fellow salesman, Hal Grover, when Barbara Zarett sauntered into the used car lot early that Tuesday afternoon.
"Va-va-voom," Grover said in a low voice aside to Vance. "Now here comes the kind of prospect I like doing business with. She looks better built for speed and smooth performance than any of these cars we're peddling."
"I know her, Hal."
"No kidding? Well, say, I didn't mean anything-"
"It's okay," Vance said, smiling as he watched the shapely blonde approach them. "She's built, all right-a nifty stack."
"She your girl friend?" Grover ventured.
Vance shook his head slightly. "Just a girl I know, Hal."
"Well, you know the right kind of people, pal. Seeing as you know her, you'll probably stand a better chance of selling her if she's in the market for a good used car. But if she just wants to have a personal chit-chat with you, I suggest you steer her over to that red convertible and make like you're giving her a sales pitch while you and she have your talk. Just in case Old Eagle Eye is looking," Grover advised. "The old boy's a real stickler for business during working hours."
"Right," Vance agreed.
Old Eagle Eye was Mr. Lillis, portly manager of the used car lot, and Vance didn't doubt but that he might be looking through the office window.
He walked briskly forward to meet Barbara, wondering what was on her mind. Was it buying a used car-or was it something else? But if she had no intention of buying a car, then what could the something else be?
"Hi there," he greeted, smiling pleasantly at her. "If you're looking for a good buy in a used car you've come to the right place."
She laughed throatily, fixing her blue eyes on his. "I can't even drive a car, I'm afraid. No, I came down here hoping I could talk to you for a minute."
"Oh? Well, in that case you'd better make it for five minutes and look as if you are interested in buying one-for my boss' benefit, Barbara. Let's go over to that red convertible."
"Sure," she laughed, her teeth flashing whitely in the sunlight.
They walked to the convertible, where he had her simulate interest while he faked showing her its interior as they talked.
"I remembered you mentioning after Sharon told me and Keith about your getting this job that you'll be working till nine every evening except Tuesday evening," Barbara began.
"And Sunday evening."
"I'm only interested in this evening. What time will you be through today?"
"Five-thirty or so," he replied, wondering what she wanted of him.
"Are you seeing Sharon tonight?"
"No, not tonight. Not till Friday night. Why?"
She said carefully, "She's the reason for my wanting to talk to you. Look, can you drop by my place around seven tonight? I want to tell you some things that I think you ought to know about her-if you're interested, that is."
"Such as what?" he asked quickly. "Of course I'm interested. Such as what things?"
"Well, it's really about one thing in particular I've got to tell you," she said. "Something I only found out just yesterday, Vance."
"What?"
"No, I can't tell you anything now. I have an appointment with my beautician, and I don't want to be late for it. If you'll drop by my place around seven this evening, I'll tell you everything then. My mother'll be attending a card party, and we'll be alone and can talk freely."
"Seven? Okay, I guess I can make it. I was to go see a guy about selling a stamp album of mine, but it can wait. What's your address?"
She told him, adding, "It's the apartment at the top of the stairs to the right. Ring my bell twice so I'll be sure it's you, huh?"
"Wait, you can at least tell me now if what you have to say about Sharon is good or bad, Barbara," he said tightly.
"No, I want you to judge for yourself after I tell you what it is. I got to be going or I'll be late for my appointment. See you tonight."
He stared after her as she walked away, tension smoldering within him. His stomach felt queerly tight. Just what did she have to tell him about Sharon?
He lit a cigarette with hands that trembled a little, a scowl on his face. He didn't think anything could change the way he felt about Sharon. Not anything. He loved her and wanted her; he knew that for certain now. It no longer mattered that she had not been a virgin when taken by him last Saturday night. He had managed to get over his bitter disappointment through telling himself that he could hardly have expected a girl so pretty and desirable as Sharon to be still a virgin at eighteen. Through telling himself that over and over and over.
The reason for his bitter disappointment had been, of course, that he'd had his heart set on falling in love with a girl whose virginity was still intact. At the drive-in movie he had wanted to hurt her-for one instant he had wanted to, anyway. He had wanted to handle her roughly; he had wanted to accuse her of not having been a virgin as she'd led him to believe when he took her the previous night. Just for one bitter instant he had been so tempted to do.
Now he soberly reflected that for all he knew the loss of her maidenhead might have taken place when she was still a kid. The way it had happened with him, when he had stopped being a virgin at thirteen.
His mind flashed back through time to his sexual initiation. There he was, playing the game of hide-and-seek, ducking down into a cellar to hide with Cindy Feist. He could smell the warm girl-smell of her as they talked in controlled whispers in the stone-walled cellar.
"Hey, today's my birthday, Cindy. I'm thirteen."
"Oh, that makes you the same age as me. Are you having a party, Vance?"
"No, but I don't really care, Cindy."
"Ahh, gee, it's too bad you're not. Well, I'm going to kiss you thirteen times and once extra for luck! "
With a gay toss of her yellow braids, excitement flaring in her brown eyes, she put her arms around him, causing his skin to grow warm.
"Gee, I've never been kissed by a girl, Cindy."
"Haven't you ever played Post Office, Spin the Bottle, or Surprise?" she breathed, her warm lips close to his mouth.
"No."
"My goodness. Well, you're going to be kissed now."
Fourteen times she grunted up against him, each straining kiss exciting him greatly. When she stepped back finally, he pulled her back against him, wanting further contact with her wonderful mouth and body. He kissed her long and hard, and then rubbed his face against hers in his wild excitement.
"Wait ... let go a minute," she said breathlessly. "Let go and listen...."
"What?" he mumbled, chewing on her soft, hot cheek with his lips, reluctant to release her.
"Let go and I'll tell you."
He released her. "Tell me what?"
"Do you want to do something way better than kissing?" she whispered, looking secretive.
"Do what?" he choked out in an emotion-clogged whisper.
"You know what."
"Huh?" His blood was pounding in his ears. "No, I don't. What, Cindy?"
"Never mind."
He caught her arm, dug his fingers in. "No, tell me!"
"I mean never mind; I'm going to show you," she said in a hot breath.
There were old bedsprings leaning against the cellar walls, and a rolled mattress was propped on end in a comer. With a boldness in her, Cindy had him topple the mattress and spread it flat on the stone floor. Then she quickly lay down on it, pulling up her short red skirt and whispering what he was to do. It took but an instant for him to slip down the white panties, another to stretch out atop her, embracing her eagerly. A flash of consuming heat overwhelmed him as he went inside her.
"This is my-birthday present-to you," Cindy panted as he luxuriated in her warm body, every muscle of him coming excitingly alive.
It was the best birthday present he could have wanted.
His thoughts returning to the present time, Vance reflected that he'd known many girls since Cindy Feist, but that he had never really loved and wanted any girl before Sharon Coe.
He was suddenly willing to bet that Sharon had lost her virginity when she was a kid and didn't know any better, same as he. Probably enticed into sexual intercourse as he had been, for he could not somehow picture her as having possessed the boldness Cindy had displayed.
His scowl came back as he wondered what it was Barbara had found out about Sharon.
The door of Barbara's apartment opened just as Vance reached the top of the stairs. Her crimson lips were wreathed in a pleased smile, and her blue eyes looked overly bright.
"You did remember to ring twice," she murmured. "Come in, Vance."
She wore a low-cut orchid dress that just about reached over the tips of her globular breasts, and Vance hastily averted his gaze. His immediate thought that she didn't have on a brassiere increased his sudden sense of discomfort. A trace of amusement seemed to flicker in her eyes before she turned and locked the door.
"Go on in," she drawled. "I'll be right with you."
Going into the living room, he saw that both armchairs held a pile of cardboard boxes and phonograph records, leaving the davenport the only place on which to sit. Reluctantly he sat down, knowing he would much rather have sat in an armchair. He didn't like the idea of Barbara sitting beside him in that low-cut dress of hers, since it was going to be a trifle embarrassing trying to keep his eyes averted from her almost completely exposed breasts.
She came in shortly, saying, "Here, I've fixed you a drink. You'll need it for what you're about to hear."
He accepted it, tasted it, then quickly drained it dry.
"Okay, I'm listening," he said quietly.
Barbara sat down close beside him and leaned even closer.
"You haven't known Sharon very long, have you?" There was whiskey on her breath. "I mean, you and she met at a dance only about two and a half weeks ago, didn't you?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Well, I met her just last Thursday afternoon. In Lorry's Ice Cream Parlor. She sat down by me, smiled, and we became friendly. She seemed like the sort of girl I wanted for a friend. So much so, in fact, that I set up a double date for the very next night."
His jaw tightened. "Sharon double dated with you Friday night?"
Barbara nodded. "Yes. She had me fix her up with a pal of Keith's, Ernie Edwards. Maybe you know Ernie?"
Vance shook his head. "No, I don't," he muttered.
"To confirm the look on your face, yes, fixing her up with Ernie meant just that-putting out. As a matter-of-fact, she did it twice with Ernie, begging for it the second time," the blonde told him.
He felt a great stabbing pang in his heart and a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. If that was true, he thought dully, then Sharon was nothing more than a tramp.
"Is that what you had to tell me?" he said stiffly. "But no, it couldn't be, since you said this afternoon it's something you found out about her yesterday."
"I was coming to that," Barbara said, "and now I'll tell you. Yesterday afternoon she dropped by and, after a little while, suggested I play some of my phonograph records. So I brought out my record-player and put a record on. It happened to be a number featuring exotic music, and she started dancing to it," Barbara related seriously. "Not only did she start dancing but did a strip-tease while she was about it!"
He looked at her in an uncomprehending way, uncomprehending in that he couldn't picture Sharon as behaving in such fashion. "A strip-tease?"
"That's right," Barbara nodded, her eyes glowing brighter still. "She took off her clothes, every stitch," she said emphatically, "and flaunted her naked body. I was shocked. But that's not all. What she did next was the biggest shock of all. For she suddenly grabbed me and kissed me-kissed me hard. Vance, she wanted to make love with me! "
He met her eyes with his own, staring in disbelief, stunned by this disclosure. Barbara quickly leaned very close, her whiskey-tinged breath flowing into his nostrils.
"She's playing you for a sucker, Vance," she hiss ed. "She's a damn Lesbian, that's what she is! She's not really interested in making love with guys-she prefers making out with girls! "
He continued to sit in stunned silence, staring at Barbara, whose overly bright eyes had flashed in an almost demented look as she'd delivered the accusation.
"That can't be," he managed to say finally.
"I tell you it is," she spat venomously. "She's really a Lesbian. I had to fight her off and throw her out of here."
A chilly coldness came over him, and he felt his body break out in a cold sweat. Sharon a Lesbian? It seemed incredible, simply unbelievable; yet he had Barbara's word for it. He knew about Lesbians, and loathing was suddenly a thickness in his throat at thought of their twisted actions. Putting out in tramp behavior was one thing and bad enough, he reflected numbly, but Lesbian love! Regaining her composure, Barbara murmured, "The only reason I've told you what she's turned out to be, Vance, is-well, because you're too nice a guy to be played for a sucker by her, that's why. Too awfully nice a guy."
She stood up suddenly. "You look as though you could use another highball," she said, looking down at him.
"Yeah," he said, dropping the word off his stiff lips.
"I think I'll have one myself. Be back in a jiffy."
She left him briefly to his bitter thoughts and feelings, and they only served to make him feel hollow inside.
"A stiff drink is always good for whatever ails a person," she said throatily upon returning with the highballs. "Toss this off and I think you'll agree."
Taking the proffered drink, he consumed it in an instant, as if trying to make the loaded liquid burn away his bitterness.
"That's it," Barbara said approvingly. "Thefaster you toss a drink off the better."
Downing hers, she gasped, "Whew! I feel like I've just set myself on fire."
Then she was bending down, putting her eyes on a level with his, and he thought her breasts would fall out of her low-cut orchid dress.
"Yeah, you're a very nice guy," she breathed, her eyes taking on a sultry look, "and I want to help you get Sharon out of your system." She swayed slightly on her feet and her fingers closed on his thigh. "Help you all I can, Vance."
"Thanks," he said woodenly.
"Oh, come on-n-n...." Her fingers dug into his thigh. "You gotta help yourself too, man." She giggled a little. "You got to help me to help you-if you know what I mean."
There was no misunderstanding what she did mean, and Vance stared dumbly at her. She was drunk, he thought. Or was she? he wondered, looking into her hot eyes.
"So start helping yourself, huh?" she whispered sibilantly.
Suddenly he wanted to take her, to use her to help him forget Sharon if only for the time being by wallowing in the sensual pleasures of the flesh.
He pulled her down on his lap and claimed her lips with his own in a frenzied kiss, clamping his arms around her as she pressed herself against him. Her mouth opened wide to his savage kiss, and her tongue danced against his like a hot flame, then retreated with his tongue in quick pursuit. He felt the dig of her nails at the nape of his neck as they fenced skillfully with their tongues.
With clawed, impatient fingers, Barbara ripped her low-cut dress away from the tips of her firm, full breasts moments later, and guided his lips quickly to them. He kissed them, first one, then the other, and found them diamond-hard. Barbara moaned, her breathing harsh and urgent.
"Again ... again," she bade him, bringing her breasts to his lips and flashing tongue.
Abruptly she pulled away. "The bed, let's go on the bed, man," she said thickly. "God, I've got to have you and fast. Hurry, man! "
They went to the bedroom and took off their clothes and plunged to the bed together in a tangle of nudity.
"Get goin', honey!" Barbara said imperatively, a look of gloating, pleased triumph on her lustful face. "Give it to me and put your all into it, man! "
He did, and, their limbs interlocked, they moved in ever mounting rhythm till they went rigid and tense with their mouths frozen open at the explosive culmination of their unruly passion.
Winded, Vance lay on his back and Barbara pressed against him, half covering him with her lush body, looking at him through cooling, almost disdainful, eyes.
"Did I sap all the energy out of you, doll?" she drawled.
"You'd sap the energy out of any guy," he told her.
"What a lovely compliment, Vance."
"Well, I thought you'd forgotten my name," he said.
She chuckled throatily. Then the smudged red slash of her mouth swooped down to crush his. During the moist kiss, he felt her squirm atop him, completely enveloping him with her warm, wriggly body, then felt her hips working against his in quick-rising tempo.
"Move, man, move!" she goaded, breaking the kiss.
He strove to keep up with her, but she was in the driver's seat now and so had him at a disadvantage. Fleetingly the thought crossed his mind that that was where she preferred to be-in the driver's seat.
His hands skidded on her sweat-greased back, and he then grasped her pumping buttocks as he gave himself over to her insatiable passion.
"I'll take Sharon out of your system!" she hissed savagely.
He wasn't so sure.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jarred by Barbara's shocking behavior that had been like a thunderbolt out of the blue, Sharon subsequently was touched by fear through knowing that she had made an enemy of the wicked, cruel and arrogant blonde, who was quite capable of doing anything in revenge. For Sharon intuitively felt that Barbara would try to do her harm now that she knew the girl's vengeful nature; for Barbara would want to get even with her. It seemed she could taste the cold fear she felt.
Pouring herself a glass of tomato juice that next morning, Wednesday, Sharon sat at the table and reflected again, as she had over and over since what'd happened, that she'd never dreamed Barbara, of all people, could be the type of person she had revealed herself to be.
She shuddered and felt surer than ever that Barbara Zarett would go to any lengths to get revenge upon her. The blonde was definitely dangerous, having proved that by attempting to choke her into submission when she'd balked at pleasing her.
The phone started ringing suddenly, and Sharon rose to answer it.
"Yes?" she said, wondering who it could be.
"Sharon?" inquired a feminine voice on the other end of the line. She could not mistake that voice, it was Barbara. Her heartbeat seemed to falter. She automatically started to hang up, then thought she ought to listen to what the girl had to say.
"Yes," she answered, her voice flat.
"This is Barbara. Listen-you can forget about Vance, because I've changed his mind for him about his caring to see you ever again!"
Sharon felt herself turn pale, and was unable to speak for the moment.
"Did you hear me?" Barbara hissed. "I fixed it so that he now despises you. By spilling to him some choice things about you, such as your putting out for Ernie Edwards on Friday night, and your trying to make out with me Monday afternoon."
Sharon gasped out loud, shocked and appalled.
"I told him all this last night," Barbara rushed on in a high-pitched voice. "I had him come up to see me, Sharon, just so that I could tell him these things about you. Especially to tell him what you turned out to be really like, and how I had to fight you off and throw you out!"
The blood seemed to have frozen in Sharon's veins. She blurted hoarsely, "It was the other way around and you darn well know it, Barbara. I had to fight you off-"
"Your word against mine," the vindictive blonde sneered, "and Vance believes me."
"He couldn't-"
"But he does. And he showed how much he does by making love to me. Yeah, by going to bed with me."
The shocking jolt that went through Sharon seemed to stop her heart.
"I warned you I was to have my way and not be crossed, Sharon. I warned you I can be pretty nasty. You're finding out just how nasty."
"You-you must be insane-"
"And Vance may not be all it's costing you for slugging me," Barbara said vindictively.
"You'd have choked me to death," Sharon cried. "Now look, Barbara-"
"Go to hell," Barbara snarled, and hung up.
Numbly, Sharon replaced the dead receiver in its cradle, turned slowly and returned to sit at the table, slumping down in acute dejection.
The numbness wore off, and she could feel sharply the terrible hurting pressure in her chest. She bit down on her lip hard and choked back a moan of anguish as she strove to keep from going all to pieces at the bleak prospect of losing Vance, whom she so dearly loved. Giving way to despair now would not resolve anything. She must keep a grip on her churning emotions and resolve the situation, if things were to be made right again between her and Vance.
She must go to him, she decided quickly, then explain to him about Ernie Edwards and tell him what actually had happened Monday afternoon at Barbara's apartment. Surely Vance would believe her, would know she was telling the truth.
She felt hard hate building in her against Barbara Zarett, and knew she would like nothing better than to punch the truth out of the girl about Monday afternoon in front of Vance. Her strong animosity dispeled her fear of Barbara.
Drawing a deep breath that shivered in her throat from the intensity of emotion she felt, Sharon sat upright, her decision settling into her mind. She would go to Vance tonight.
She looked around as Brenda came into the kitchen. Her cousin's hair was tousled and there were pillow creases on her cheek. Brenda seemed to be in a mental fog again this morning, more so even. Sharon frowned, and the feeling grew in her that something was the matter with Brenda.
She rose suddenly and grasped Brenda's arm, looking at her more closely. Brenda looked unusually pale.
"Brenda, are you all right?" she asked worriedly. "Is anything the matter? You're not sick, are you?"
Brenda shook her head, her eyes averted. "No," she mumbled.
"I've never known you to sleep so late before, except when you weren't feeling well-"
"I overslept, that's all."
"Yesterday morning too?" Sharon persisted.
"Can't I oversleep without you and Mama making a fuss about it?" Brenda flared suddenly. "Leave me alone! "
Anger flashed through Sharon and she whirled Brenda around so that she faced her. "What's the matter with you? It's so unlike you to oversleep, so naturally Mama and I want to know if you're all right and not sick or something," she cried hotly. "And it's not just your sleeping late all of a sudden. You've been acting like you're in a mental fog since Monday night! "
Brenda's blue eyes looked suddenly wild in a stricken way in her white face. She pulled away from Sharon and ran into the bathroom.
Frightened all at once by her young cousin's actions, Sharon darted after her. Brenda tried to slam the door shut, but Sharon lunged against it, preventing her from doing so. Instantly Brenda whirled and rushed to the medicine cabinet, flinging it open and grabbing the bottle of peroxide.
"Brenda! " Sharon yelled in frantic alarm.
"I want to die!" Brenda cried wildly, twisting the cap off the bottle and raising the bottle to her lips.
Sharon threw herself forward frantically and reached Brenda in time to knock the bottle of peroxide away from the girl's mouth with a hard swing of her hand. It fell to the tile floor and shattered.
Quickly taking hold of Brenda's shoulders, Sharon shook her violently.
"Brenda, for God's sake, what's the matter with you?" she said hoarsely. "What's happened to make you terribly upset like this? What's happened to you? What's wrong?"
Brenda's face was suddenly quivering, shaking uncontrollably. Anguish flooded Sharon. Then Brenda was crying, deep sobs racking her body, and Sharon took her in her arms, holding her tightly with a fierce protectiveness.
"Oh, brat, brat," Sharon groaned, "what's happening to you?"
Brenda's sobbing increased, her warm body shaking against Sharon.
"I wish I'd never grown up," Brenda sobbed out, "I wish I'd never been born."
Sharon stroked her head, not knowing just what to say, except: "Brenda, stop crying and tell me what's wrong. What is it that's troubling you so much this time?"
Brenda shook her head. "I can't tell you, it's too awful."
"What is?" Sharon said tensely. "You must tell me. You'll feel better once you've told me, whatever it is. Now tell me."
Brenda's sobs lessened and her body ceased trembling, became still against Sharon. She raised her tearful face, then dropped it to Sharon's shoulder, shaking her head negatively again. "No, you'll think me terrible and-and loathe me-"
A tightness assailed Sharon's throat. "Tell me what happened," she whispered. "You know that if anyone will understand it'll be me. You know that."
Brenda stopped crying, sniffled, then raised her head to look into Sharon's concern-filled eyes. "Yes," she sniffed, nodding jerkily. "All right, I-I'll tell you."
When Sharon had heard her through she felt heartsick. For a moment she couldn't speak for the sick realization of how Brenda was more emotionally disturbed than she had believed her to be.
"Now you know why I wish I was dead," Brenda mumbled, her eyes downcast and her bottom lip quivering. "I might as well be dead, the way I feel inside. And I'd rather die than feel this awful, all tied up in knots, and not knowing if Valerie's brother will tell Mama and Papa."
Sharon put a comforting arm around her. "You've got way too much to live for to want to die," she said shakily to her. "You've all your life ahead of you, the best part of which is the time when you're old enough to start dating regularly. I know how wonderful a time that can be, Brenda. Would you want to give all of that up? And what about the boy you said was so eager to date you?"
"Davey," Brenda breathed. "Davey Weems."
"Yes, Davey. And what about your saying you wanted to double date with me? Don't you want to do that?"
"Oh, I want to do that so much, Sharon."
"Then snap out of your morbid mood and give yourself the chance to straighten out by dating Davey Weems. For I'm positive that's all it will take, dating him, to straighten you out okay-so that you won't ever again be tempted to behave wickedly with another girl, Brenda. As for Valerie's brother, I'm sure he would not want to tell anyone what happened between you and his sister. Besides, he has as much as indicated he would not by warning you to stay away from Valerie or he'd make you sorry."
"I never want to see her again," Brenda cried.
"You mustn't, for your own good."
"I'm all right now," Brenda said warmly then, her features animated and color back in her cheeks. "Thanks to you, Sharon. And you don't have to worry about my being tempted that way again. After what I went through inside me since Monday night, I sure learned my lesson!"
"Well, let me get this mess cleaned up before Mama gets back from that slip covers sale," Sharon murmured. "I'll tell her I accidentally dropped the bottle."
"I'll help you clean it up," Brenda said quickly.
"All right, but don't pick up any of the broken glass with your fingers. You just hold the dust pan while I sweep the glass into it."
"Okay."
As Brenda held the dust pan, she looked up and said hopefully, "Maybe after I get Davey to ask me again for a date we can make it a double date for this Saturday night, Sharon."
"I don't think so, Brenda-not for this Saturday night. Next Saturday night would be all right, though."
"Next Saturday night, then. Swell, Sharon!"
Shortly past noon the telephone started ringing again. Brenda hopped up from the dinner table to answer it.
"It's for you, Sharon," she said. "It's Vance."
Vance! Sharon's heart was suddenly pounding within her and her face flamed hot. With trembling fingers she laid down her fork and rose from the table, standing up a trifle shakily.
"My, you're blushing to beat the cars," Mother said, smiling up at her. "It's easy to see you think a lot of that young man, dear."
"She could stand in for a red traffic light right now," Brenda cracked.
If they only knew, Sharon thought. If they only knew that her hot flush was not one of sudden pleasure but one of sudden trepidation.
"Hi...." she said into the phone, speaking low. The hurting pressure was back in her chest, and she knew she greatly feared Vance had called up to break their Friday night date and to say he didn't want to see her any more.
She gripped the phone tightly.
"Sharon, I'm on my lunch hour and I thought I'd phone you to ask you to meet me tonight," he said tonelessly, "I'll be through working at nine. I have to talk with you. It's important."
"Yes, all right," she said quickly. "As it happens, I was coming to see you tonight, Vance, because I've got to talk to you."
"Oh?"
"Yes, so I'm glad you called. And Vance-"
"Yeah?"
"I know what it's all about."
"You know?" he said slowly.
"Yes, that's why I have to talk to you. You see, Barbara called me up this morning and told me about-about last night."
"She did? She did that?"
"Yes."
He was silent a moment as though considering this information. Then he said, "Tonight then; I'll be expecting you."
"Yes, I'll be there, Vance."
Sharon hung up, feeling drained of emotion after all she had been through that morning.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The afternoon seemed interminable to Sharon. As it wore on she felt tension building within her. All she could think of was seeing Vance that night. Would he believe her when she told him how it had happened she'd let Ernie Edwards go all the way with her on Friday night? Would he believe her explanation for it, and believe also the truth about Barbara? He just had to believe her, she thought desperately, simply must believe her, for she could not bear to lose him. Thus ran her agitated thoughts over and over while the tension grew within her.
Finally it was evening, and she couldn't keep her eyes off the clock until at last it was time for her to leave to meet Vance. She reached the used car lot at precisely nine o'clock. She waited on the sidewalk, standing by Vance's compact car and looking beyond the line of autos on sale which stood in the foreground, and presently saw him emerge from the shack housing the office of Lillis Motors. He strode across the lot, tall and lean and energetic, and she felt a flutter in her heart.
She looked at him anxiously as he came toward her. His face was stony, his square jaw set, and the bleak thought that he would not believe what she had to tell him jelled her legs and turned her hands to ice.
"We'll run out to Pete's Roadstand and talk there," he said tonelessly.
"All right," she said, her heart beating violently.
They got into the car and Vance drove to the drive in, the silence between them almost tangible.
"One coffee and an orangeade," Vance told the willowy redheaded car hop who hustled over to take their order, "and bring me a pack of Marlboro cigarettes."
The girl jotted it down on her pad, nodded her head, and hustled away, her backside swinging.
Bleakly silent, Sharon waited for Vance to speak. He looked over at her, frowning, and she bit her lip in tension.
"You said Barbara phoned you this morning and told you about last night," he said abruptly. "Just what did she tell you?"
"Everything," she said tightly, emotion swelling her throat muscles. "She made the call solely out of spite. She told me she'd changed your mind for you about ever wanting to see me again. She said it was my word against hers and that you believe her, believe what she's told you about me, that you showed you believe her by-by going to bed with her...."
A pained expression fleetingly crossed his face. Then he was scowling darkly. "What exactly did happen at her place Monday afternoon? I've heard her version, now you tell me. I want to hear what you have to say."
She swallowed hard, feeling momentarily choked up by the rush of hope within her.
Vance added, "Frankly, it's hard for me to believe that of you, Sharon-what she claims you did. That's why I had to see you about it."
"Oh, Vance, she's lied to you, lied horribly," she cried, emotion pulsating so strongly inside her that she trembled with it. "She's twisted things around-"
She broke off as the car hop came hustling back with Vance's order. The girl hooked the tray onto the door of the car, dug into the pocket of her trim blue slacks to give him change of a dollar, then hustled away again.
Sharon instantly resumed talking, the words tumbling quickly off her lips. "She spitefully told me it was her way of getting nasty with me for crossing her, that it was costing me you. I accused her of being insane. She acted insane when she tried to force me into doing what she wanted Monday afternoon. Vance, she started choking me and might have strangled me if I hadn't managed to punch her on the jaw as hard as I could and stunned her enough to shove her away from me! " she disclosed excitedly.
"Take it easy," he said gently. "I believe you, Sharon. The more I got to thinking about it after I left her last night, the more I couldn't picture you as being that sort of girl-not you. But I had to know for certain."
"I've told you the truth, darling."
He nodded. "It explains her phoning you-why she would do a thing like that."
"Let me tell you just what happened," she said, and recounted the incident.
"Too bad you didn't bust her jaw," Vance said grimly when she concluded. "I'd like to knock her teeth down her lying throat. I should never've listened to her lies."
Sharon drew a deep breath, expelled it heavily. Then she lifted her chin determinedly. "The only one thing she did not lie to you about was my going all the way with Ernie Edwards Friday night," she said quietly. "That's true. What she kept from you was that I was a virgin, and that she talked me into letting him start me. She said he was an expert at-" a stinging flush rose into her face, "at breaking a girl in, that I would be smart to take no chances on being disappointed the first time and maybe lose interest in sexual relations, and so ought to have an experienced guy like him start me off. She said I didn't have to see him ever again afterward. Before that, she made all sorts of arguments for giving up my virginity and becoming real experienced at making love. They did sound convincing. Anyway, that's how it happened Friday night with Ernie Edwards, and you've got toto consider that, Vance. I don't care anything about him and never want to see him again." She added, "It's you I love and want."
He placed both hands on her shoulders, looking deep into her pleading eyes. "It doesn't make any difference now that you've explained about it," he said. "And I hope you'll understand that it was Barbara's terrible lies about you that weakened me to the extent I let her persuade me to go to bed with her."
"I understand only too well," she assured him quickly, "knowing as I do how she can work her wiles on a person. All that matters to me is having things right again between us. All that counts is the love we have for each other."
To be loved, wanted, needed by him as much as she loved and wanted and needed him-that was her desperate longing, what she craved more than anything else. To have their relationship ripen quickly, oh so quickly, into a permanent bond of union that nothing could destroy.
Vance pulled her close, their eyes locked. "I love and cherish you," he said, low and intense. "You're in my blood, in my heart. None of the girls I've known were anything like you. None of them ever made me feel as I feel about you, Sharon."
For a moment she felt she would cry for the exquisite joy his fervid declaration brought her.
"Oh, my darling," she whispered, blinking.
Aching with happiness, she reached up and touched his cheek in a sweet caress. "I'll never love anyone but you...." she attempted to smile.
His arms tightened around her as his mouth suddenly closed over hers. She shut her eyes and drank in the sweetness of his intense kiss and nourished it with her hungry response.
They broke, gasping slightly for breath, and then kissed again with a different intentness as they were overcome by sudden mutual passion. She pressed hard against him, pushing her breasts into his chest, as she returned the demanding pressure of his lips.
They slowly pulled apart. Sharon sighed and snuggled lovingly against him. Nothing mattered now but that they were together, reunited by the wonderful power of their love.
"That coffee's getting cold," he murmured, "and that orangeade warm."
She laughed and sat up. He handed her the cup of orangeade and they drank. "You want something to eat before I take you home?" he asked her, and she shook her head. "Then we'll go; I'm not hungry either," he said and tapped the horn to let the car hop know they were ready to leave.
"You don't have to take me home just yet," Sharon said. "I mean couldn't we go for a ride first?"
"Where do you want to go?"
"Anywhere," she told him. "Just a ride."
"Come again," smiled the redheaded car hop as she removed the tray, and hustled off, her backside swinging.
Vance started the car, and Sharon resettled herself comfortably against him. He put one arm possessively around her.
It was a lovely, bright night, pleasantly warm, and she rested blissfully against Vance, her face in tranquil repose, eyes half hooded as she watched the moving car's headlights pick up different traffic signs along the way, signs warning of junctions, speed limits, curves, and signs naming places and distances to them.
"I enjoy the countryside," she said suddenly, breaking the peaceful silence. "Its beauty and quiet, I mean. As a little girl I used to come out here with my uncle in his car, and we'd get out and walk and look around and sometimes sit under a tree at the edge of a meadow. I used to like sitting under the tree with him best and munching an apple or pear."
"I know what you mean," Vance nodded.
"Do you think we could park out here for awhile before we turn back, Vance?"
He glanced at her. "Sure, why not, if you want to."
"Yes, do then," she breathed.
He pulled off the road and stopped the car under a large tree whose leafy branches formed a bower overhead, shutting out the moonlight.
"Okay?" he said, a husky quality entering his voice.
She twisted toward him in the velvety darkness, putting her arms up around his neck and quickly finding his mouth with her own. She kissed him ardently.
"Take me," she said vibrantly. "Take me, darling, please."
His hands and lips were swiftly upon her, doing what they had to do and arousing her to blinding need. Clinging to him, she lay back on the seat moaning, her thighs opening and aiding his entry as she dug her nails into his back and clamped him to her. Then they commenced moving as one, fused together by urgency and sensation, and their loud, hurried breathing filled the car.
They moved together faster and wilder as ecstasy beckoned, undulating in total abandon, and Sharon was oblivious to everything except the crescending, now ultra-sharp sensation within her, which transcended the peaks of pleasure attained in her previous copulation experiences. Frantically she strived for deliverance, and cried out long and throbbingly when it was upon her.
They recovered slowly. Vance was the first to speak, saying huskily, "I love you, Sharon. I love you and hope it'll always be this good for us."
"It was divine," she sighed. "I'll love you forever."
They drove leisurely back to Ridgedale. Looking serenely out the window, Sharon was jolted out of her serenity at sight of Barbara Zarett emerging from Lorry's. Barbara saw her at the same time and hate filled the girl's eyes and twisted her lips. Sharon shivered and involuntarily pressed closer to Vance.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Puffing on a cheroot, Chet Garth worked it to the other side of his mouth as he lined up his shot by squinting along the pool cue. Satisfied, he gave the cueball a hard whack, smashing it against the seven ball and neatly putting the ball in the side pocket. With a pleased smirk he picked up the blue cue chalk and rubbed it over the tip of his cue stick as he prepared to make his next shot.
"You guys care to make a little cash bet on whether I run 'em off this time?" he asked his two buddies, bespectacled, lanky Bert Floyd and moon-faced, heavyset Ray Cooke.
Bert didn't, but Ray said, "I'll bet a buck you don't."
"Only a buck?" Chet prodded.
"I got only a buck and some change on me."
"Okay," Chet nodded, "a buck then, Ray."
Confidently he lined up the cueball with the eight ball, shifting his cheroot again, but just as he was ready to shoot he heard Riley call out that there was a telephone call for him.
"Okay," he sang out to the wizened, aged proprietor. "Be right back to win that little bet, Ray."
"Hey, if it's a chick ask her has she got a coupla girl friends for me and Bert," the pudgy youth said, grinning.
"I'll do that," Chet tossed over his shoulder.
It was Barbara Zarett on the phone. Chet scowled darkly and his hand tightened around the receiver.
"What the hell do you want?" he growled, a hard, surly edge to his voice. "I ain't forgot what you called me Sunday night, what you said."
"I'm sorry now about that," she said. "I lost my head, said things I really didn't mean. That's one of the reasons I called up-to apologize to you, Chet. I was hoping you'd be there at the poolroom, because you'd told me you're usually there on Wednesday nights."
"Lost your head, huh?" he said, resentment still rankling him. "And now you want all of a sudden to apologize."
"Yes, you've got to believe that-"
"I don't have to believe nothing," he said sharply.
"Listen," she said tersely, "I told you I'm sorry and I am. What happened between us is all that damn, innocent-faced witch's fault, Chet. You were right about her, so right. She needs a lesson, just the kind of lesson you wanted to dish out to her Sunday night. She and that boy friend of hers! "
"What'd she do to you to make you change your tune?" Chet asked flatly. "Take away something you wanted?"
"She crossed me in something. Look, I want to make things right between us, Chet-show you I mean what I say-"
"Yeah? What about you and that Keith Rowen?"
"I've only dated him as a favor to somebody," Barbara said quickly. "I've already ditched him, in fact."
"You have, huh?"
"Yes."
"And there ain't no other guy?"
"Just you, Chet."
"I'd like to believe you, babe," he said.
"I told you, you can," she said sharply. "Sharon's boy friend's a guy named Vance Balbo. Are you going to listen now to what I have to say?" she demanded. "Or don't you want to hear what this guy bragged about doing to you?"
"Whadda you mean?" he said fiercely. "What guy bragged about doing what to me?"
"Him, Vance Balbo, that witch's boy friend," Barbara spat. "He told it big about what he'd do to you if he was to suddenly meet up with you, for what you did to her-for kissing her and then hitting her after she slapped you. He said he'd beat you to a pulp, then break you in two and stuff both parts of you into a street sewer."
Chet felt his face burn red with anger, felt a nerve twitch. "The hell he did?" he gasped. "Why, the dumb bastard-" He fumed with rage. "I'd like nothing better than to meet up with him! Where does this guy Balbo hang out-where can he be found? " he demanded.
Barbara said hurriedly, "Listen, I want you to wait till they're together before you do anything. That'll be this Friday night. You can take along those two buddies of yours. Grab the guy and that Sharon, take them somewhere and give it to them good-a lesson both of them will never forget. Especially her for the way she's crossed me-"
"I'm itching to get my hands on her," Chet said vengefully.
"Then do as I say and you'll not only get your hands on her bragging boy friend, but on her too," Barbara hissed. "You'll have your sweet revenge on her."
"It'll be sweet, all right-damn sweet! "
"For me too. Chet, it'll make me so happy I'll give you the best fun in bed you've ever had."
"I'll count on that, babe."
"You can count on it for Saturday night," she told him. "Up at my place. You can tell me there of the lesson you teach those two Friday night. Lemme tell you just where you'll find them both."
"I was about to ask you that."
"Well, the guy's a salesman for that used car place over on Stegg Street-"
"Lillis Motors."
"Yes, Lillis Motors. He'll be seeing Sharon Friday night after he's through work at nine. He's got a car, so you'll have to borrow a car in which to follow them. Maybe you can get loan of the car you took me out in that second time we dated," she suggested. "The one belonging to that uncle of your buddy Bert. Anyway, I remember your saying you could always manage to borrow a car if you had to, so it should be no problem."
"No problem at all," Chet boasted.
"Okay then. So you be around with your two buddies when the guy leaves at nine and follow him-"
"Describe his car," he cut in, "and give me a description of him."
"It's a compact car, cream in color. The guy's tall as you and-"
"Wait a minute. I think I know what he looks like. He has a mop of black hair, right? Yeah, he's the guy she was with last Saturday night in a cream colored compact car. I'll know him when I see him, Barbara."
"Good," she hissed. "You teach them both that lesson they need, Chet honey, him and that witch of his, and it'll be your ticket to a trip around the world Saturday night you'll never forget! "
"You've sold me, babe," Chet said quickly. "Look, do you know where they'll be going after he picks her up Friday night?"
"No, but it doesn't matter, since you have only to follow them to find out. Wherever they go, you just see that you and your buddies grab them first chance you get."
"It would've helped me figure where that first chance would be, knowing in advance where they would be headed for."
"Oh. Well, I don't know. Wait, I have it. I'm pretty sure they'll park some place off by themselves to make love before he takes her home. That would give you the ideal chance."
"If you're right, yeah," he said. "That'd be perfect all right, their parking in a secluded spot-we wouldn't have to take them anywhere, just dish out what they got coming to them right there."
"Just remember to dish it out to that witch real good."
"You never told her my last name, did you?" he asked suddenly. "Or that I hang out here in Riley's poolroom?"
"No. She's probably forgotten your first name by now, but don't let it worry you if she hasn't. I can deny having told her it's Chet, that she misunderstood the name, if I were to be asked about it. That it's really Brett something or other, maybe give a phony last name besides," Barbara informed him.
"Okay," he grunted. "Then I'll be seeing you Saturday night. So long." He hung up.
"Who was it?" Ray asked when Chet rejoined him and Bert.
"Just somebody who wanted to interest me in a certain caper for Friday night," he answered smooth ly.
"Yeah? What caper, Chet?"
"I'll tell you and Bert about it later, Ray. It's the kind of caper you'll like, I can tell you that. You've been belly-aching about how hard up you are for a chick. Well, you're going to be. able to get your hands on a nifty chick this Friday night."
"Hey, man," Ray breathed.
Chet grinned. "You too, Bert. We'll all three of us be taking turns at her. Me first, of course."
"Of course," Bert murmured.
Chet eyed him narrowly. "I'm first in everything, you know that," he said softly with a dangerous edge to his voice. "You both know that. What I say goes, no argument."
"Who's saying different?" Bert said quickly. "Not me."
"Okay, but watch with the cracks."
"I didn't mean no crack."
"Who's the chick?" Ray asked of Chet. "You'll both find out Friday night."
"Man, I can't wait! " Ray exclaimed, his dark eyes fever bright.
"Let's get back to the game," Chet said with a slanted grin. "I got a little bet to win, remember? I'll tell you all about the caper when we're outside."
"I don't feel like shooting pool now," Ray laughed. "Like I mean, I'm all of a sudden out of the mood! "
"It sounds like a different kind of caper than any we've pulled before," Bert remarked.
"It's the kind that's right up my alley," Ray enthused. "Chet, ol' buddy, for it I'll remember you in my will!"
"You mean you expect to have more than a buck in folding money some day?" Chet drawled, squinting along the pool cue as he prepared to resume playing.
Outwardly calm, he was inwardly filled with fierce pulsing craving and strong exultance at the sweet prospect of having Sharon Coe, the object of his frustrated hate and obsession, in his power, yielding to his lustful demands when he put on the pressure. Tremors darted along his legs and arms and the palms of his hands turned hot and sweaty as he visualized the pleasurable scene. He felt the sudden hotness of his blood. He would make the snooty dame respond real good, and when he was through with her she would be in for more of the same from Ray and Bert.
The tremors in his arms caused him to give the cueball too hard a whack and it smashed against the eight ball and jumped the table, clattering across the floor. He swore.
"I can't believe it," Ray said, grinning, "but it looks like I'm gonna have more than a buck in folding money right now."
Chet threw down his cue stick angrily. "Let's get the hell out of this pool parlor," he growled, "and go talk about that caper for Friday night. I'll spell it out to you guys."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"Hey, they're leaving the road," Ray said excitedly.
"Well," Chet said with much satisfaction, "they couldn't have picked a better spot. It's perfect for us."
"Man, this is the kind of adventure I like," Ray cracked. "Only, we should've brung night glasses. It's sure dark around here."
"The moonlight's just bright enough for us to see good enough," Bert said.
"We'll be able to see okay," Chet drawled.
He turned the two-door sedan off the country lane, switching off the headlights, and the moonlight-splashed darkness surrounded the moving car. Up ahead, the red-glowing taillights of the compact car looked like two red eyes in the dark.
"They're parking under that big tree," Ray said.
Chet eased the sedan to a stop. "Okay," he said, "we'll wait a minute and then move in on them afoot. Ray, you take one side of their car while Bert and I take the other side. We'll open both doors at the same time and drag them out if we have to, got that? I'll haul out the guy, you yank out the dame, Ray. Clap a hand over her mouth and hold onto her while me and Bert take care of Balbo. Bert, you hold him from behind while I work him over and put him away for the count."
"Right," Bert said.
"I can hardly wait to get at that chick," Ray drooled. "She sure is stacked the way I like a chick to be stacked."
"She's got it coming for slapping my face like she did," Chet told his two buddies, both of whom had quickly recognized Sharon Coe upon seeing her emerge from her home and get into Vance Balbo's compact car when the guy had stopped to pick her up after leaving Lillis Motors. "When I'm finished with her, you're next, Ray, and then it'll be your turn, Bert. Okay, let's go."
"Man, I'm raring! " Ray's voice throbbed with excitement.
They stole silently toward the dark shape of the compact car parked under the large tree. The profound stillness of the warm, fragrant night was almost tangible around them. Chet felt the hot pulsing of his blood, and anticipation brought sweat to his forehead. He'd put the guy away fast and then take his sweet time with the girl, prolonging the pleasure of getting even with her for spurning him.
Ray footed it quickly around to the other side of the car as they reached it, and Chet jerked open the door on his, the driver's side, with Ray flinging open the opposite door. The light that automatically came on within the car with the opening of the doors revealed Sharon Coe in Balbo's arms with her mouth fastened to his. Her dress was hiked up above her white, ex citing thighs.
In rude shock the two jerked their heads apart, perturbation flashing into their faces. Chet grabbed the guy and hauled him bodily out of the car. He heard the girl give a choked scream as Ray pulled her out.
Bert was equally quick to lock Vance Balbo's arms behind him, and Chet punched the guy viciously in the stomach, exulting in the feel of his fist sinking into the yielding flesh.
He could not resist saying savagely, "So you were gonna break me in two and stuff both parts of me in a sewer, huh? Huh?"
Balbo gasped and said:
"I don't know what you're talking about, fella. What-"
Chet punched him in the face.
"Changing your tune now, huh?" he snarled. "Don't know what I'm talking about, huh? Well, you are gonna be damn lucky if I don't break you in half and stuff both parts of you in a hole in the ground!"
He drove his fist into Balbo's stomach again, then slammed a hard left to the guy's jaw. Balbo's knees buckled.
"Hold him up," Chet barked to Bert.
Balbo shook his head dazedly, struggled erect, straining suddenly to break Bert's locking hold on his arms. Chet quickly punched him in the groin. The guy's agonized groan was music to his ears, and he grinned tightly and belted him in the groin a second time, watched him writhe in agony.
"Put him away," Bert said. "Knock the slob out."
"I'm running things," Chet told him angrily. "You just keep holding him up till I tell you to let him drop."
He bored in again, exulting fiercely in the meaty impact of his barrage of blows to Balbo's midriff, head and face.
"Okay, let him drop," he growled moments later.
Bert obeyed, and Chet connected with a final punch to the head as Balbo crumpled to the ground. The guy sprawled in the dirt and doubled up, wheezing in pain. Chet glared down at his victim with heavy satisfaction.
"There," he snorted, "that'll teach the dumb bastard."
"He's curled up like a kitten and just as tame," Bert said.
"If he's not completely out yet, this'll fix that," Chet muttered, kicking Balbo in the head. "Now grab his feet and we'll put him back in the car. He'll probably stay put, but you watch him anyway until it's your turn with the dame."
"Okay."
Picking up the unconscious youth, they thrust him into the front seat, and Chet had Bert close the doors to extinguish the light inside the car.
"Watch him now," he warned Bert. "If he comes to and tries anything, holler out."
Tremors of triumph shooting through him, Chet strutted toward Ray and the girl. Ray was holding her helpless against him, exerting painful pressure on the arm he had twisted behind her and wrenched up behind her back. She was unable to cry out because Ray's left hand was pressed over her mouth.
Jubilation sweeping through him, Chet stepped up to her, seized the neck of her dress and maliciously ripped the dress into two halves. She began to writhe and squirm, but she couldn't shake off Ray's hand which smothered her attempts to scream. Ray jerked up on her twisted arm, stopping instantly her feeble struggle as the pain caused her body to go stiff against him. Chet chuckled and tore off her bra.
"You better hold still if you don't want your arm busted," he told the pain-frozen girl. "Yeah, babe, you'll make it a lot easier on yourself if you'll cooperate."
His breath getting shorter in his chest, Chet reached for her panties, grasped the waistband of the filmy cloth, and pulled at it, bringing the panties down over Sharon Coe's lush hips.
"Man, she's sure the goods," Ray said covetously. "Goes in and comes out at all the right places just perfect. I'm drooling just looking and feeling her against me. Whatta frame! "
"Yeah," Chet grunted, running his hands freely over the warm expanses of the girl's naked body. He tweaked the nipples of her breasts and gouged his fingers into her flesh. "Yeah, she's stacked all right," he agreed in burning anticipation, caught up in the thrill of exploration. "And we're gonna give her the workout she's built for," he purred. "Let go of her. And, babe, if you start to scream I'll just have to knock out your pretty teeth and gag you in the bargain."
Ray released her and she said, "Ohh-hhhhhh...." in a sobbing breath of sound. Chet pulled her into the moonlight.
Standing there in the moonlight, Sharon Coe looked very beautiful in the nude, Chet thought hotly, his blood pounding so hard that he felt its throb in his throat and temples as he ogled her ripe, exciting body. The svelte brunette's breasts were high and proud and jutting, her stomach flat, and her hips and thighs rich with rounded fullness. She was a slim-waisted, shapely girl whose rounded pale-white surfaces and dark shadows aroused Chefs lust completely.
"Just lookit those curves," Ray breathed beside him.
With a sudden moan, a small, broken sound, the trembling girl whirled about and made off like a terrified deer, sprinting toward the road that lay a hundred yards away.
Chet raced after her, swiftly overtook her. She screamed as he grabbed her, his hand closing tight over her forearm. Swearing, he spun her around and slapped her across the face, the sound of the vicious slap carrying clearly in the profound stillness. She cried out shrilly and twisted away from him, trying to pull away in her frantic struggle to escape. He cursed at her, calling her obscene names, jerked her back around and punched her in the stomach. She folded over with the blow, and he pulled her erect by the hair and slapped her back and forth across the face.
"Where'd you think you were going, bitch?" he snarled. "You got a lesson coming and I'm seeing you get it."
"No," she sobbed. "Oh, please, leave me alone ... please!"
"You really want your teeth knocked out?" he said harshly, twisting her arm up behind her back. "Now get moving, huh?" He cruelly pinched her deep-fleshed buttocks and her quaking body jerked outward. He laughed, a thin, grunting sound. "You'd better start co-operating, if you know what's good for you, babe," he told her, propelling her forward.
She stumbled ahead of him, her head bowed, sobbing and whimpering. Her black hair had been pulled loose and hung freely about her shoulders, accentuating their whiteness. He gave her buttocks another gouging pinch and felt her flinch again.
"Hustle it up," he said tensely. "And quit sniveling and whining; I don't want to hear it." He increased the pressure on her twisted arm, jerking it higher between her shoulder blades. "Quit it!" he snapped.
"My arm," she gasped frantically. "My arm!"
He eased the painful arm-lock. "I don't want to hurt you bad," he growled, "and I won't have to if you do as I tell you. Look, you co-operate and-"
"No," she cried, shaking her head. "Please don't do this terrible thing ... oh, please don't," she begged, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder, her face pallid in the moonlight-pierced darkness, her frightened eyes luminously entreating him.
He said coldly, "Begging me on your knees wouldn't stop me, so shut up and make it easy on yourself by being co-operative, willing. Or else," he menaced.
"Ooooh," she moaned, drooping.
They returned to where Ray waited, and the pudgy youth touched the helpless girl's breasts and guffawed in her face, irrepressible excitement audible in his quick laughter.
"Looks like you tamed her," he said to Chet. "Good!"
"That grassy hollow over there will be a good spot," Chet drawled. "Come on."
He propelled Sharon Coe forward to the spot and she moaned brokenly, her young naked body jerking to the spasm of a sob. Ray tagged along, snickering.
"Now, babe," Chet gasped tersely, fully aroused and churning with lustful desire. "Now I'm gonna give you what you got coming to you, which is plenty! Now, like it or not, you're gonna accommodate me-accommodate me real good!"
And he shoved her down to the thick matting of grass and pounced on her.
"Right damn now," he exulted in fierce triumph, a straining strength in his thighs.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Her eyes glazed with terror, her heart booming in her chest, Sharon lay rigid as her attacker's strong body quickly bore down on hers, his face fixed in a predatory cast.
Oh, God. Oh, God, she thought in dark despair.
His cruel mouth came down savagely in total possession as their bodies merged, his teeth hurting her lips, his tongue invading her mouth and lashing deep. She felt the hard pressure of his taut body; felt his fingernails digging cruelly into her skin; and she winced and knew she could not withstand the brutal pressure another instant.
He surged even more forcefully against her, and Sharon's straining resistance was overcome. Her rigidity broke beneath the fierce assult. She heard his exulting cry as her bruised body was forced to yield to his lunging body.
That this could be actually happening to her, Sharon thought agonizingly. It was like a horrible nightmare. Only it was much too real to be a nightmarish dream. Much too real.
The crushing heat of his hard, demanding mouth left her for an instant as he freed her mouth then, and Sharon sucked in air frantically.
"Co-operate, damn you," he said thickly, swearing. "Make like I'm your lover-boy Balbo."
But she lay limp beneath him, wincing and gasping.
His mouth covered hers again, smothering her so that she felt she couldn't breathe.
She felt her senses reel all of a sudden, felt a feeling of light-headedness wash over her. She was losing consciousness, was mercifully blacking out Her head suddenly rang and her cheek burned scorching hot. The descending merciful darkness was partially dispeled.
"I'll slap you silly if you try to pass out on me," the guttural voice of her attacker threatened. "I'll mark you up good."
In a state of semi-consciousness, submerged in heavy, uncomfortable warmth, her tortured breath coming in shuddering gasps, Sharon could feel herself being pulled tighter and tighter against the rapist; could feel the increased movements of his hard body; could feel his hoarse panting breaths on her ear. She focused her eyes and saw him pushing back and forth above her. She realized that her body was now caught up in his strong rhythm, her hips moving without any conscious effort on her part. She stared up at the sky and the white stars seemed so remote.
Insidious sensation was creeping over her now, irresistible stimulation that caught at her throat and speeded up her uncontrolled respiration.
"Oh, man-n...." her attacker groaned tensely, and Sharon felt the fierce bite of his teeth on her ear lobe, the pain nearly paralyzing her. She cried out.
Then his mouth was hard on hers again, his tongue moving wildly in a build-up of lust and driving passion. Sharon whimpered deep in her throat and her hands fluttered helplessly against his surging body.
She sharply felt his excitement burst. A groan erupted from him and he tore his mouth away from hers and caught the soft skin of her neck between his fierce teeth. He shook her pain-wracked, inert body with his shuddering tremors, and she loosed an anguished sob.
"There, I wasn't so hard to take, huh, babe?" he said upon releasing her and getting up, smirking down at her.
She lay spent, exhausted, aching, huddling against the ground, cold chills coursing the length of her quivering naked body, her eyes dull and listless, sick with terror and anguish. A terrible force seemed to crush her chest, and she convulsively gulped in the grass-sweet air much like a person fighting suffocation.
"My turn now," spoke up the arrogant rapist's fat accomplice. "Lemme at her!"
Sharon screamed, the cords of her neck standing out, and, with a surge of strength born of desperation and stark revulsion, lurched to her hands and knees, scrambled to her feet and started to run. But the fat youth was upon her quickly, striking the back of her neck with the hard edge of his hand. The numbing blow buckled her knees, and she pitched forward on her face.
She strove to break her fall with her hands, and shock numbed her arms and shoulders. She collapsed, falling flat, her breath rasping painfully in her throat, her senses spinning crazily, and she thought she would surely black out and prayed she would.
But she didn't. Somehow she didn't. She clung to consciousness, when her whole being cried out for an end to her suffering, an end to her ordeal of terror and pain.
She was ruthlessly flung over on her back. The corpulent teen-ager knelt beside her, leering into her fright-distorted face.
He gripped her chin with his fingers, tipping her head back against the grass, and a strangled cry quavered in her constricted throat.
His eyes glinted. "You're hitting the jackpot tonight, chickie."
Sharon's dilated eyes rolled wildly in her head. Oh, God, she prayed beseechingly, deliver me from this unspeakable horror!
Her flesh crawled in revulsion as his hands started fondling her nakedness, and she writhed and squirmed under their marauding caresses. She flinched, crying out, as he pressed her breasts tightly in his hands, squeezing cruelly. He laughed coarsely and pinched her nipples between his fingers, wringing a sharp gasp of pain out of her.
"A real nifty pair of titties," he drooled coarsely.
"Hurry up and take your turn with her," barked the yellow-haired youth with the cold, mask-like face, who she had recognized on sight and whose first name she now suddenly remembered. Chet. That was the name Barbara had introduced him to her by, she recalled in that instant. "Hustle it, huh?" the rapist snapped at the pudgy youth. "Don't dawdle! "
"Okay, okay, I wanted to feel for a minute, that's all."
She struggled weakly, sobbing anew, as the slobbering fat teen-ager dropped down on her. Her heart dropped with him.
"No, oh, no!" she wailed, partly rising.
He flung a thick leg around her threshing legs and bore her back and down flat with hard force. The back of her head slammed against the ground and sharp pain exploded behind her eyes, momentarily stunning her.
His mouth slobbered over her lips as she lay stunned, and nausea roiled her stomach. She felt her stomach rise against her throat.
He wedged her legs wide apart, and agony burned into her body and mind as his bulky weight jammed down on her snared body. Sharon clawed at him frantically, crazed with pain, and began screaming. He clapped a hand on her mouth, cursing foul obscenities.
God, he was killing her. Pain was slashing into her already badly bruised insides, pain such as she had never known.
He was like a wild animal, slobbering and surging savagely against her tortured body, his hand muffling her agonized cries.
After what seemed like an interminable time the final surging ripped into her pain-paralyzed body, and the unbearable pain of it shot her clawed fingers away from his back and against the ground, her nails digging hard into the grass.
She lay inert, breathing with great difficulty, each breath painful to her. Her loins hurt terribly, and she wondered if she would be able to move. The corpulent rapist had gotten to his feet and was whooping with pleasure.
"Man, I feel ten feet taller after that," he whooped, and his ribald laughter was joined in by the tall, yellow-haired youth.
"Go spell Bert," the latter directed him. "Tell him to come get his fun."
"Yeah, he's itching bad for it by now."
"Before he gets here, babe, I want you to show me I'm your master," sneered the arrogant Chet, crouching over Sharon as the other youth swaggered off to spell the third of the trio, the bespectacled one. "I want you to show me that."
She strove to raise her arms defensively as he reached down for her, but her abused, aching muscles refused to function and she could not lift her arms. His fingers dug into her disarrayed hair, twisting around the strands, and jerked viciously. Excruciating pain stabbed downward from the topof her head as she was pulled up into sitting position, mingling with the pain shooting through her body, and an agonized groan ripped from her raw throat.
"So show me! " he barked, straddling her legs in his crouch.
A sobbing wail left her quivering lips as he quickly forced her head against him. Nausea roiled her stomach in a sudden violent spasm, and she retched.
He shoved her from him with a curse. "Don't puke on me, you-" Swearing, he kicked her in the side.
She slumped over, retching horribly. She sounded as if she was strangling to death. Suddenly she vomited.
"Let's cut out," she heard him say disgustedly to the approaching bespectacled youth. "You're outta luck. Come on, she's stinking up the place."
They went away and a moment later Sharon dimly heard a car start up and roar off. She retched and vomited again, a longer paroxysm that drowned out further sound of the fleeing auto.
She sagged weakly and nearly toppled into the vomit she'd spewed. She braced herself with considerable effort. Her ribs were sore, her breasts ached, her loins hurt, her face was puffy, and her eyes assailed by dizziness. She felt emotionally and physically wrung out.
"Ohhhhh," she moaned sickly.
It was minutes before she was able to make the effort to rise, and it took all her strength. She stood swaying, wincing in pain, until the dizziness cleared from her head. Then she let her breath out in a long, heartfelt, shuddering sigh, thankful that the ordeal she'd gone through was ended. She would never know how she had been able to endure it, she thought painfully.
Oh, God, she asked then in her tortured mind, why did you let such a thing happen tome? Why, dear God, why?
And it occurred to her that He had chosen that way to punish her for having sinned; for having listened to Barbara Zarett and believed the girl was right and followed her sinful advice. The thought caused her to feel utterly lost and forlorn.
Suddenly her thoughts leaped to Vance and she was filled with concern for him. He had been beaten terribly.
"Vance," she screamed, stumbling out of the grassy hollow, and half ran in limping fashion toward the tree-sheltered compact car despite the pain in her loins that made her wince at every forced step.
"Vance," she cried out again as she reached the car.
She wrenched the door open, her strained heart slugging hard within her. The light triggered on inside the car by the opening of the door showed Vance sprawled on the front seat. His eyes were closed, his face pale, and there was a round, purplish swelling on his forehead above his left eye. He was unconscious. She felt a mental sickness course through her at the harrowing sight.
"Vance," she choked out, tears running down her face. "Oh, Vance, darling ... "
His eyelids twitched, he moaned, stirred and opened his eyes. He looked dazedly up at her.
"Sharon," he said weakly.
"Oh, Vance, tell me you'll be all right," she cried, and the tears blurred her vision.
He sat up, grimacing with pain, his hand touching the swelling on his forehead. Sharon hovered beside him in tearful concern.
"My head hurts," he said, his voice gaining strength as he spoke, "but I seem to be all right otherwise." His face hardened abruptly and his blue eyes flashed. "Where are they?" He seemed suddenly aware of her nudity, of the ugly bruises marring her white flesh. He stared at her, his widening eyes roving her body. "What did they do to you?" he said in a strained voice. "Did they-" he stopped as if he couldn't bring himself to say the rest.
"Yes," she whispered desolately.
"The bastards," he gritted. "The dirty bastards. All three-?"
She shook her head. "No, only the two t-that beat you up," she sobbed. "Oh, it was horrible ... "
He got out of the car and she quickly put her shaking arms around him tightly and laid her tear-streaked face on his chest. His arms closed about her, and they stayed that way for a moment without speaking.
Then he said tightly, "Where did they go?"
"They had a car," she told him. "I got sick ... awful sick ... and they left in a car. I heard it leave. Oh, Vance, they're beasts ... beasts...."
"I know. Where're your clothes? I've got to get you to a doctor right away."
Sharon made a sharp effort to pull herself together. Yes, a doctor, she thought-she must get to a doctor immediately.
"I'll take you to my doctor, Dr. Fennis, Sharon. He has an emergency night bell and should be home at this time of night. We'll tell him what happened."
"The one with the yellow hair, the one who hit you while the one with the glasses held you from behind," she said shakily, "he was the main one, the leader, the one behind it all. I know him-that is, I know his first name. Chet. And that he dated Barbara. This was his way of revenge for my refusing to have anything to do with him-"
"You mean you actually know the guy?" Vance demanded.
"Just his first name. Chet," she repeated to him. "And that he went out with Barbara. I don't know anything else about him. He tried to force his attentions on me Sunday night when we were at that drive-in movie, as Barbara and I were returning to the car from the ladies' room, and I slapped his face-"
"But you never told me!" Vance blurted, staring at her.
"I didn't want you to know. I was afraid you'd go looking for him and get into a fight," she explained. "I didn't want any trouble, darling. It was that night I learned his first name, when Barbara introduced him to me after he blocked our way. And it was then she mentioned that she'd been out with him."
"She told you his first name only?"
"Yes, she just referred to him as Chet."
"No matter," he said grimly. "She knows who he is; that's the important thing. We'll get him through her, and his two cronies when he's caught. The cops will make her tell."
He helped her to cover her nudity with her torn clothing as well as possible, and then helped her into the car. She moved wincingly, clenching her teeth at sharp twinges of pain. When he was behind the wheel, she pressed close to him.
"Lie back," he said, "rest your head on the seat."
"Wait," she whispered, putting her hand on his arm. "Hold me again for a minute, darling. Hold me," she entreated, "and give me a kiss...."
She wanted to be held securely by him and kissed by him. She wanted to know she could rely on his love, wanted to know if he still felt the same about her after what had been done to her. She had to know.
"It'd hurt your swollen lip," he said, starting up the car and not looking at her. "Now lie back. We've got to hurry and get you to Dr. Fennis."
Sharon felt something go dead inside her. She thought she understood his refusal. He didn't want to kiss her now, didn't want to hold her. He probably couldn't wait to have her off his hands, she thought numbly.
She fell away from him, a dry sob choking her, her hands turning cold, knowing that to lose him now would be more than she could endure.
And this, she thought starkly, this was to have been the night she had planned for them to become engaged.
She was suddenly on the brink of hysteria.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Chet Garth felt a sense of exhilarating triumph such as he'd never experienced before in his life, a heady sense of victory through force, as he raced the sedan back to town. Along with that inner exultation he felt the throbbing joy of retribution. He pushed the accelerator down to the floor, a cold, reckless light in his blue eyes, and the telephone poles began really whizzing by.
Ray spoke up. "You think this car's made the cops' hot sheet by now, Chet?" he asked.
Chet grunted. "Maybe, maybe not. Likely it hasn't been reported stolen yet. I told you that the guy who owns it is a bartender, and that he'll probably not know it's missing until he knocks off work at three a.m. We'll ditch it in town," he said, "a few blocks from the poolroom, like I planned."
"You better slow down when we reach town, so we don't have a cop chasing after us for speeding," Bert cautioned. "We can't risk getting caught by the cops for anything like that after what we've done. That girl and guy are sure to report what's happened to them once they get back to town."
"Don't worry, I'm not going to get us jugged on a stolen car rap after my careful planning," Chet growled. "I'll take it good and easy when we hit town."
"Yeah, don't worry, Bert," Ray said. "Chet knows what he's doing. He's never put us in a tight spot yet."
"Tell him, Ray," Chet said. "Okay, okay," Bert said.
"We're practically home free," Chet declared.
"Man, I feel like a million bucks," Ray enthused. "Too bad you was cheated outta your turn with the chick, Bert."
"Just my luck she had to start puking all over the place."
"Well, I needed it more than you did anyhow," the pudgy youth declared, "seeing as how you at least make out with a chick every once in a while, like Chet here does. I've had no such luck like that, that's why I was so hard up for it. Chr-rist, did I need it! "
Chet hawked and spat out the window. "Now maybe you'll stop belly-aching for a while, Ray," he said.
"I've had it lots of times," boasted Bert. "I had my first piece of tail while I was still going to grammar school."
Chet glanced over at him. "How'd you tear off that first piece-was she willing or did you have to force her a little, Bert?"
"Oh, she became willing enough, when she saw I wasn't taking no for an answer," Bert replied. "She enjoyed it too."
Chet laughed appreciatively. "Yeah, a dame needs to be forced at first," he drawled, thinking of Roxanne Lexch, "and then she claws your back wanting it."
"Ain't it the truth," Bert agreed.
They were now approaching the town limits, and Chet slackened the car's rushing momentum, cutting its speed so that they were able to drone into Ridgedale doing only twenty-five miles an hour.
"I think we'd better not hang around together for a while or so," he said suddenly. "Just to play it safe, you know, in case the bitch and her boy friend do go to the cops."
"They're bound to do that," insisted Bert.
"So the cops will be looking for three guys and expecting to find them together," Chet said, unfazed, "which is why I say we split up for a while until the heat's off."
"So okay, but-"
"But what?"
"She may have recognized you, Chet. Remember, she's seen you already when it was almost as dark-at that drive-in movie last Sunday night. She knows what you look like, especially after the way you manhandled her-"
"Of course she recognized me. I wanted her to recognize me," Chet said calmly. "So what, Bert? If I was to get picked up by the cops as a suspect, I'd just holler that it's a case of mistaken identity and swear I never saw her and the guy before in my life, and they couldn't prove otherwise. I'd get my old man to holler right along with me and have him threaten to sue for false arrest. The cops would let me go fast," he asserted confidently.
"She could prove you a liar by proving you manhandled her at that drive-in," Bert argued. "By having her girl friend, that blonde who was with her, verify it."
"That blonde," Chet smirked, "happens to be the person who phoned me at Riley's Wednesday night and set up the sweet caper for us. She won't verify nothing. She'll deny I was the guy that manhandled the dame ... Surprised, huh, Bert?"
"Well, I sure don't get it," the bespectacled youth said. "The way she acted that night, her calling you what she did and all-"
"It was just an act she put on for the dame's benefit," Chet lied glibly. "She apologized and explained over the phone. It was nothing but an act. She's really wild about me. Yeah, she doesn't care to go out with no other guy. She's some piece, huh?"
"You mean to say a blonde chick knows what we done tonight?" Ray said. He sounded suddenly uneasy. "That it was her got you to make us fix Coe's daughter and that guy the way we did?"
"That's right," Chet nodded, slowing the car down and stopping it as the traffic light ahead flashed amber and then red. "She said the nervy dame crossed her and needed to be taught a good lesson. The guy too, for bragging what he'd do to me for the way I manhandled his girl, if he was to get his hands on me. Of course, he had to be put out of commission anyway for us to get at the dame, but I gave him an extra going-over on account of that big talk of his."
"You told him off about it too, yeah," Bert said.
"It was the only thing I didn't tell you guys Wednesday night-that it'd be that stuck-up Sharon Coe we would rape, and the caper being her girl friend's idea."
"This blonde chick?" Ray Cooke said.
Chet nodded. "Her name's Barbara. I've dated her a couple of times." The light turned green and he resumed driving. "I told you that much about her at that drive-in movie after what happened there, Bert."
"Yeah."
"But you should've told me and Bert Wednesday night that it was her idea," Ray said. "You should've, Chet."
"Why? What difference would it have made if I had?"
"Well, being a dame she's liable to spill the works," the pudgy youth grumbled. "Dames like to spill things."
Chet snorted. "She's in it with us, so she won't be spilling nothing," he said acidly.
"You can't be real sure of that," Bert said. "She's certain to be questioned by the cops, and she could be scared into giving you away to them."
"Yeah," Ray said. "She'll have you grabbed by the cops and just deny having set the caper up, Chet-claim you was lying to involve her for giving you away to them, by accusing her of that."
"It's too bad she was with Coe's daughter when you manhandled the girl," Bert said regretfully. "If she hadn't been, the girl would have no reason to have the cops question her. But since the girl knows that Barbara knows you, she'll tell the cops so and they'll pay Barbara a visit."
"Look," Chet snapped angrily, "I'm telling you guys she'll keep her mouth shut. Cops pay her a visit to question her, she won't scare a damn. Not her. She'll play it cool, smart, and they won't learn a thing, about me or the caper. And if I should get picked up anyway, on suspicion as I said, she'll deny that it was me manhandled the broad. We don't have any thing to worry about because we have it made, with no chance of a slip-up if we just see to it we don't make any. So quit your goddamn worrying about Barbara! "
"Okay, okay," Bert said placatingly.
"Yeah, I guess you ought to know," Ray said. "I guess she can be trusted not to give you away to the cops."
"She can! " Chet barked, raking them with a hard-eyed glance, his jaw jutting truculently.
But they had roused apprehension in him. Could he really depend on Barbara not to reveal his identity in the event the police did question her, as they were certain to do if Sharon Coe and Vance Balbo reported the criminal assault and informed them that the blonde could identify one of the two young men who had attacked her?
He knew Barbara was capable of double crossing him and might do just that, giving him away to the cops as Bert and Ray feared she might do, then denying her complicity and claiming he was lying to involve her for revealing his identity to the police, as Ray said. He knew, too, that if she did do that the cops would be inclined to believe her.
For an instant Chet had a chilling vision of arrest, conviction, and confinement in the county penitentiary, and he gripped the steering wheel very tightly, his mouth pinching down at the comers.
"A cop car," Bert hissed suddenly. "Parked in that gas station across the way."
"And the cop in it is looking at us," Ray said rapidly.
Chet swiveled his head to look and saw the radio cop eyeing them through the prowl car's windshield. He felt himself instantly tighten up inside, felt fear bite into him.
"Geez, oh, geez!" Bert half moaned.
Then they were past the gas station and the blue and white police cruiser wasn't shooting out after them. Chet exhaled shakily in relief and the pounding of his heart slowed down. He felt the sudden sweat that had broken out across his forehead.
"He's not coming after us," Ray said relievedly, "so it means the car isn't hot yet."
Chet rubbed the sweat off his forehead with a nervous, jerky motion. "Told you I didn't think it likely that bartender knows the car is missing yet," he said.
"Got to sure hand it to you, Chet, for picking his car to steal for our caper," Ray praised. "That was real smart."
"Just careful planning, as I said before."
"It's sure paid off so far," Bert said.
They lapsed into silence, and Chet drove toward the center of town. Traffic was thin at this hour of night. It was nearly one a.m. He lit a cheroot and puffed on it indolently in a show of confidence.
And then he saw Barbara Zarett, and the guy that was with her, the guy that was none other than Keith Rowen, who she was supposed to have ditched. So she'd told him Wednesday night over the phone.
She was standing in the street, about to open the door of Rowen's convertible and get in beside the grinning guy. She was laughing gaily, a ravishingly lovely girl, her blonde hair glinting in the street light.
Bert spotted her. "Hey, there's Barbara. I thought you said she wasn't going out with no other guy? Then what's she doing out with that jerk?"
Rage flooded Chet, then corroding hate. The lying tramp! The damned lying tramp!
His face suddenly set in vindictive lines, Chet twisted the wheel and shoved the gas pedal to the floor. The car roared directly at the laughing blonde, smashed into her before she could fully whip her head around at the sound of the car's terrific roar, the tremendous impact hurtling her high into the air.
"Chet, God Almighty!" screamed Bert.
Chet twisted the wheel again, taking the comer on two wheels, the tires squealing terrifically, the straining motor pitched to a shuddering whine.
"Chr-rist, let's ditch this car quick!" Ray babbled frantically. "Oh, Chr-rist...."
"There, you guys," Chet gritted fiercely, "now I've fixed it so we can be sure she won't spill nothing!"
"It's murder," Bert gasped.
"It's our insurance against her scheming mind," Chet snarled. "Now we really don't have a thing to worry about."
"Except getting outta this car and fast," Ray cried.
Chet brought the stolen car to a shuddering stop at the curb in front of a darkened empty store, and the three of them piled out and raced down the street, which was deserted.
"Into that alley," Chet snapped. "It leads to Morse Street."
Once on Morse Street they would separate and he'd hurry home as quickly as his feet would take him there, careful not to arouse suspicion on some chance observer's part by running all the way home. He would caution Bert and Ray to be as careful. Chet felt something like an expanding pressure at the back of his head, and knew he was actually very close to panic.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Vance was starting up the street after leaving Sawyer's Stamp Shop that Tuesday night, when he suddenly spied one of the rapists-the heavy set one with the piggish eyes. Wrath boiled up within Vance and with an uncontrollable shout he rushed across the street to grab the fellow, who was about to enter Riley's Poolroom.
Ray Cooke evidently heard that throat-deep shout of rage, for his head swiveled quickly about. Vance saw recognition flare in the piggish eyes. Then fear jumped into Cooke's eyes and he wheeled and began running before Vance could reach him.
Determined not to have him get away, Vance ran in pursuit. Cooke dashed around the comer with Vance gaining on him. A moment later he saw the pudgy youth dart into an alley that cut between two buildings. Vance strove to increase his speed.
He turned into the alley, pumping his legs. There was a fire escape against one brick wall and the rapist was scrambling up the iron steps. Vance lunged up after him and seconds later managed to seize an ankle, but was forced to let go to avoid being brutally kicked in the head as the panting fellow clung to the iron railing and kicked down at him with the other foot. Ray Cooke resumed climbing.
But Vance caught up to him again on the first landing. He slammed against him, almost knocking the other off his feet. Cursing, Ray Cooke twisted about to struggle with him. Vance drove a fist into his fat stomach. The blow buckled Cooke, and Vance punched him in the face, sending him staggering against the inside railing.
Vance moved in relentlessly, jerking his head aside as the fat youth's hand shot out, stiffened fingers jabbing at his eyes. He hit Cooke savagely under the heart.
Cooke cried out in pain, then threw his weight against Vance in wild rage, goring him backwards. Vance tripped and fell on his back on the landing. Cursing vindictively, Cooke tried to kick him in the face. Vance twisted aside and grabbed Cooke's swinging leg by the ankle, toppling him.
Vance sprang to his feet. In blind rage he hauled his cursing adversary up on his feet and slammed him against the railing. He lunged in with a hard right at Cooke's head, but in his uncontrolled fury he failed to connect and merely grazed his target. He felt Cooke's thick arms close quickly around him in a crushing hug.
His blind rage drained away as he desperately resisted the violent pressure. He wedged his palm beneath Cooke's chin and forced his head back to an angle that brought a frantic gasp from Cooke and caused him to relax his hold. Vance broke free and dropped Cooke to his knees with a solid smash to the jaw.
The fat youth stayed down, moaning. Breathing deeply, Vance looked down at him grimly. He could think clearly once more.
"Get up," he said harshly.
Cooke wobbled his head. "You hurt me," he whined.
"My jaw ... No more, I can't take no more."
"You're going to take more unless you tell me the names of your two fellow rats. Who are they?"
Cooke touched his jaw and moaned.
"Talk," Vance snapped.
"Look, what happened wasn't my idea ... "
"Tell me their names, dammit! "
Cooke cringed. "What are you gonna do after I tell you?" he mumbled.
"Then you're coming with me-to the police station. Now, I'm asking you just once more: what are their names?"
Cooke made as if to rise, then sagged down on his hands and knees, shaking his head as though to clear his senses.
"I'll tell you...." he half whispered.
Vance relaxed his tenseness somewhat, but continued to glower at the kneeling rapist.
"Yeah, I'll tell you, Balbo...."
Without warning Cooke came off his knees in a headlong lunge. Too late Vance tried to step aside and Cooke's bulk piled into him, ramming him solidly and flinging him back against the fire escape's outer railing. Only Vance's frantic gripping of the top bar prevented him from going over the railing and falling to the ground below.
Snarling curses again, Cooke drove a fist into Vance's face now that he had the advantage, and Vance felt the blow split his lip. He took another blow to the chin that jarred his senses. Desperately he tried to withstand Cooke's wild assault, trying at the same time to keep from toppling backward over the railing.
Cooke suddenly stopped using his fists. Panting hoarsely from exertion, he now attempted to push Vance over the railing. In sheer desperation Vance bunched his muscles and gripped the iron bar with one hand, whereupon he brought his right fist up against Cooke's nose. Cooke staggered back with an agonized cry, his hands clutching his nose, and Vance used the short respite to straighten up.
No sooner did he straighten up than Ray Cooke came rushing forward with a choked scream of rage and pain, giving Vance no time to get set for him. Cooke swung, hitting low, and the explosion of pain doubled Vance over, gasping.
At that moment a woman screamed from somewhere above them.
The woman's frightened scream apparently panicked Cooke, because he whirled and scurried down the fire escape. Vance was powerless to stop him. Glancing up, he saw the woman hanging out of a third-floor window staring down. Then she ducked back inside and slammed the window shut.
Gritting his teeth against the stabbing pains in his groin, Vance pulled himself erect and leaned on the railing until the pains subsided. Bitterness dredged up in him at the fact that the fat rapist had gotten away from him.
Then he remembered that the punk had been about to enter Riley's Poolroom when spotted by him. That was something to know, he thought.
Descending the fire escape, Vance decided to go over to the police station and tell the desk sergeant what happened.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Sharon didn't think the time would ever come when she would remember the nightmarish ordeal she'd gone through any less vividly. She knew that the whole hideous episode was etched so deep upon her mind that nothing could blot it out for as long as she lived. She could only make Vance's love for her dim the horror of that unforgettable night.
Looking back on that Friday night, Sharon didn't know how she might have survived it if Vance hadn't assured her that he still loved and wanted her despite what had happened to her. She remembered her desperate need of that reassurance from him, and how she had clung tightly to him upon receiving his warm avowal of steadfast love.
"I know it isn't going to be easy for you to do, Sharon, but you've got to try and get over what you went through," Vance had said earnestly, while driving her home from Dr. Fennis' residence, that terrible night. "Just as the doctor told you to do. You must let yourself get over it. Do you hear, Sharon? You must."
She sat listlessly, almost numbly, slumped in the seat with her head bowed, staring down unseeingly as thoughts whirled around in her mind. One thought stood out painfully. Without Vance's love it made no difference what happened to her now. The future held no happiness now for her-not now that she had lost him, as she felt she had. She felt that she couldn't face the future without his love, without Vance. She needed his love more than anything else in the world and believed he no longer wanted her.
"Do you hear me? You must, Sharon-if only for the sake of our love, you must."
She raised her head slowly and looked at him. She could not believe what he just said. She'd heard him but could not believe his words. She stared at him, conscious of the sudden throb of her pulse, the sudden tightness of her throat. Oh, God, how she wanted to believe!
Vance frowned worriedly at her. "What's the matter?"
She swallowed, or tried to. She had to force herself to speak, and when she spoke it was haltingly.
"You-said for the sake of-our love," she half whispered, her stare a hungry thing fixed acutely on him.
"Of course," he nodded, turning his gaze back to the road. "That's what matters most at a time like this. You must see that, Sharon."
With a strong intensity of feeling that put a catch in her voice, she cried, "I do-oh, my darling, I do! It was just that I-I thought you didn't want me any more after what-what happened to me-"
Vance pulled over to the curb and turned quickly toward her, putting an arm around her as she pushed close to him, wanting to cling to him and never let go of him. Tears stung her eyes.
"I love you, Sharon," he said gently, holding her close and stroking her hair. "Nothing can change that. Nothing can change the way I feel about you, honey. Those damn bastards are going to pay for what they did to you, but what they did to you isn't going to wreck our love-not if we don't let it. I told you Wednesday night you're in my blood, in my heart, and so you are, Sharon."
She clung tightly to him, her face pressed into his shoulder, crying quietly. He continued to stroke her hair, continued to speak.
"That's why you mustn't let what happened tonight dwell in your mind," he said firmly. "Why you've got to think of tomorrow and the tomorrows to come, of our future together, honey. Of us and the happiness that can be ours, being together."
"Yes," she sobbed, "oh yes, my dearest, yes! Our love means too much to me to let it be destroyed. Nothing must ever destroy our love-"
"Nothing will," he promised. "Nothing in this world ever will, Sharon."
And he drew her head up and gently kissed her quivering lips, and Sharon clung to him, her tears still streaming down her face.
"I'll stop by to see you tomorrow," he said as he resumed driving her home. "Around noon. Don't worry, everything is going to be all right, as Dr. Fennis said. And don't worry about the thing being in the paper-our names won't be mentioned. You heard those two detectives say so when I asked them about that. But even if our names are published, there's nothing to be ashamed about, Sharon. People aren't going to-"
"It's all right," she interrupted. "Whether our names appear in the paper or not, it's all right, Vance. It's something that can't be helped, the story being in the paper. I know that. All I care about is us and our love, darling."
"That's all that counts, honey," he reassured her.
The story was published on the second page of the local newspaper, but their names had been withheld.
It consisted of only four paragraphs.
Featured on the front page of that same edition was the fatal hit-and-run story which reported Barbara Zarett's instantaneous death after being struck by a speeding stolen car. According to the story, her escort, Keith Rowen, said it appeared she had been deliberately run down by the speeding vehicle which swerved and struck her as she was about to get in his car. The story continued that an alarm was sent out over the police teletype for the hit-and-run car and its two male occupants, that shortly thereafter the vehicle was found parked on Willow Avenue, and that it was subsequently proved by police to have been stolen, leaving them without a lead to go on.
Sharon couldn't believe it, it seemed incredible that Barbara was dead. After the initial shock wore off moments later, she realized that Barbara's death thwarted the two detectives who were to have questioned the blonde about the full identity of the rapist called Chet.
When Vance stopped by to see her, he was of the belief that Barbara might have been run down by the arrogant, yellow-haired rapist, deliberately killed so that she couldn't tell the police his identity.
"I know the paper says there were only two guys in the car according to Keith, but one guy could've gotten out sooner," Vance said grimly, "or maybe Keith didn't have time to see if there was a third guy in the car, since it all happened so fast and the car was speeding like it was."
"Even so, the police have no way of learning who they are," Sharon said, "no way of finding out their names so they could be caught. Barbara could have identified that devil, but now she's dead." She bit her lip. "It's hard to believe that she's dead, gone ... and I-I am sorry she died so awfully like that."
"I know," Vance said gently.
On Wednesday he had told her of his encounter with the fat rapist the night before.
"After he got away, I decided to go to the police and tell them about it," Vance related. "So I went to the police station. The desk sergeant had me talk to those two detectives who are on the case, and they said I should not have tried to grab the guy by myself. They said I should have let him go into the poolroom and called up police headquarters. I wish I had thought to do that, Sharon, but all I could think of when I spotted that fat vulture was getting my hands on him."
"Oh, Vance, you could have been killed had he pushed you off that fire escape. Promise me that you'll leave it to the police to catch those three fiends. Please promise me that, darling."
"Don't worry, I'll leave the actual catching to them," he assured her. "They'll be caught, too, sooner or later."
Now it was again Friday night ... Sharon brought her thoughts back to the present and glanced at her watch, saw that Vance was due any minute.
The door bell chimed the next moment, announcing his arrival.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
"Any particular place you want to go, honey?" Vance asked as they drove up the street.
Sharon shook her head, smiling at him. "No, just for a drive like I told you over the phone this noon. A nice long drive, darling," she said, cuddling against him, "and then you can take me back home. We'll go some place tomorrow night."
He nodded. "We'll stop at Pete's Roadstand on the way back. There's nothing like a nice long drive to put one in the mood for a juicy hamburger."
"All right," she laughed.
It was a sultry night and the breeze whipping into the car felt good on her face. She sighed softly. Vance turned his head and smiled at her gently, his arm tightening about her.
"I love you," he whispered.
"Oh, Vance...." she breathed, an overwhelming gladness in her. "Darling, I love you so."
She cuddled closer to him, nestling her head against his shoulder and resting her hand on his thigh. He pecked a kiss on her forehead.
They soon were purring along the highway. Steeped in serenity, Sharon lay relaxed against him with half-closed eyes. The flare of headlights kept streaming through the rear window as they rode.
Vance said suddenly, "I can't think of a better time than now, riding cozily along on this beautiful summer night as we are, with this highway stretched out before us like it is, to ask you, honey."
"Ask me what?" she crooned.
He looked at her and said softly, "To ask you to marry me. Will you marry me, Sharon?"
She sat up with a keen little cry, her eyes suddenly enormous in her glowing face, experiencing great joy. Her fingers dug into his thigh. For the moment she was too overwhelmed to speak.
Vance glanced back at the road, then looked back at her, his eyes shining in the brilliance cast by the flare of headlights streaming through the rear window.
"Will you marry me?" he repeated huskily.
She found her voice. "Yes! Yes, my love!" she said joyfully. She nuzzled his cheek with her lips, bells of happiness ringing in her. "My very love," she whispered sibilantly. "Oh, yes, yes, yessss, my dearest."
"Honey," he sighed, then said with a catch in his voice, "then consider ourselves engaged as of this wonderful minute!"
"Oh, it's a wonderful, wonderful, wonderful minute," she gurgled happily.
"We're going to have a future filled with wonderful minutes," he murmured. "With wonderful minutes and wonderful hours, Sharon."
"Darling ... sweet...." She kissed his ear. "It'll be heaven," she sighed.
"A heaven of our very own," he said huskily, holding her close. "Strictly private, just ours alone. And for keeps, hon, no matter what."
An involuntary shiver passed through Sharon. "Oh, Vance, I pray it will be so, that nothing will happen to destroy our future years together before they can be realized. Those awful bombs that can kill thousands of people in one horrible moment-"
"Yeah," he said soberly. "It's a powder-keg situation that can blow up in our faces, all right, this damn cold war."
Resettling herself comfortably against him, her expression dreamy, Sharon inhaled luxuriously, drinking in the breeze-wafted country sweetness. This was life at its zesty best, riding with Vance, just the two of them together, she thought enthusiastically. Riding sweetly over hill and dale.
Vance turned the car off the highway, driving down a side road, and Sharon gazed idly off across the darkened meadows.
"Oh, look," she suddenly said. "Is that lightning?"
"Heat lightning," he said, glancing toward the distant play of light caught in fleeting smudges against the rolling clouds.
"Oh." She laid her head back against his shoulder.
The flare of headlights came streaming through the rear window again, growing brighter and bigger, and Vance gave the onrushing car room to pass.
"About tomorrow night, Vance," she murmured, "would it be all right to take Brenda and a boy she likes, Davey something, along with us? I promised her that we'd let them double date with us once in a while-she wants to so much, darling-and tomorrow night would be as good a night as any to let them."
"I guess it's all right," he said. "Sure, honey."
Thinking of Brenda, Sharon was confident that her young cousin would straighten out nicely with dating activities.
The onrushing car pulled alongside, then pulled ahead and unexpectedly cut in front of them. Swearing in consternation, Vance spun the wheel frantically to avoid ramming the other car, and the compact car skewed across the side of the road, crashed through a wooden fence and stopped with a jolt in the meadow as Vance jammed on the brakes. Sharon was thrown forward, nearly hitting her head on the windshield.
Vance swore angrily. "That crazy sonofabitch, cut ting in front of me like that!"
Then turning to her quickly as she slid back on the seat, pale and shaken, he asked with sharp concern, "You okay?"
"Yes," she said shakily, "That goddamn fool driver," he said, incensed. "I'd like to-"
He broke off, twisting suddenly around, and Sharon stared past him and glimpsed several shapes rushing up in the darkness, shadowy figures closing in on the compact car. Foreboding abruptly gripped her, and she clutched Vance's arm in fear.
The doors were flung open the next instant, and terror bit keenly into her as she perceived that the intruders were none other than the tall, wolfish Chet and his two accomplices, the fat piggish one and the lanky, bespectacled cohort.
"Thought you'd never leave the damn highway," the arrogant rapist growled.
He was brandishing an open switchblade knife, its long and narrow blade close to Vance's face, and sight of it increased Sharon's nerve-numbing dread.
"Get out," he ordered Vance, "and don't try nothing. Ray, help the broad out. You two are going for a different kind of a ride. If you scream, babe, I'm gonna stick your lover-boy here right in his gut," he menaced. "I want no fuss at all, get me? Okay, let's hustle it up!"
A dry sob choked Sharon as she was pulled out of the car by the fat beast Ray, her head narrowly missing the metal door frame, and impelled into him by another pull on her arms.
His fat lips forced a greedy kiss on her while she writhed helplessly in his crushing embrace, revolted by his plundering tongue. She tried to bring her knee up into his groin, but he blocked the attempt by warding her knee off with his thick leg.
Breaking off the voracious kiss, he hissed. "You better do like you're told if you know what's good for you, chick."
She tried to wrench free, but he whipped her arm around and up behind her back.
"You tie his hands good and tight, Bert?" the knife-wielding Chet was saying when Sharon was propelled around the car by her captor. "I don't want him working the rope off."
"Don't worry, when I tie a guy he stays tied," the bespectacled youth assured him.
"Okay then, let's get going."
Sharon moved in a haze of horror as she and Vance, his hands tied behind him, were transferred to the car that had forced them off the road. Their abductors pushed Vance into the front seat, while she was made to sit in back between the bulky youth and the lanky one with glasses. The latter had possession of the knife now and was holding the point of it close to the back of Vance's neck.
"This will be the last ride you two will be going on," the leader of the criminal trio stated as he wheeled the car away from the side of the road. He glanced at Vance. "Ray told me what happened Tuesday night. Told me how you chased him and caught him on a fire escape. Luckily he was able to get away. If he had been not so lucky ... I didn't figure on you being able to recognize either of my two buddies, so you see why it was bad news to me. Especially your having spotted Ray when you did-as he was about to go into Riley's Poolroom, which happens to be our hang-out. I figured there's only one thing to be done about it, and so we trailed you and the babe again tonight."
"Whatever you have in mind doing to us, it won't do you any good," Vance retorted, his face grim and set. "I gave the police that information, and they're now watching the place for-"
"Ain't you forgetting something?" the hoodlum interrupted, smirking. "That cops need witnesses to prove things against somebody. You two are the only ones who can put the finger on us. Without either of you around they can't do a thing to us. Not a thing, man."
"You wouldn't dare kill us," Vance gasped. "It'd be murder-"
"Do tell. He's catching on," chortled the bespectacled Bert, pressing the knife point meaningfully against Vance's neck.
Sharon felt her face turn deathly white. These monsters meant to kill her and Vance!
"Yeah, we're gonna knock you both off and dump your bodies in the river. That's where I'm heading for, the river. And seeing how it won't matter none now, I don't mind letting you know our names, wise guy. I'm Chet Garth. That's Bert Floyd behind you. And Ray there is Raymond Cooke. You wanted to know what our names were, and I want you to know who's shutting you and your babe up for keeps," Garth chuckled.
"They might never fish you outta the drink," Ray Cooke gloated.
"You won't get away with it," Vance cried. "Murder just is something you can't get away with."
"Can't, huh?" Chet Garth drawled in mocking malice. "Well, we already got clean away with one killing. Huh, guys?"
"Barbara Zarett," Vance blurted. "You're the one who ran her down and killed her...."
"That's right," Garth admitted readily. "She knew too much. With her out of the way, it leaves just you and your babe to be taken care of. I should've killed you both last Friday night. Well, like they say, better late than never."
Ray Cooke guffawed.
"You're mad," Vance cried. "The three of you are raving mad, twisted-"
He broke off as Bert Floyd dug the knife point into the back of his neck.
"You were saying?" Floyd said threateningly.
Sick with horror, Sharon felt pain suddenly glaze her eyes as Ray Cooke clutched her breast and squeezed cruelly. She strove to push his hand away, but he tensed his arm and she could not budge it.
"Hey, Chet, how's about us having some more fun with her before we get rid of her?" he said. "Bert can have that turn he was cheated out of-"
"No," Garth snapped. "The quicker we get rid of them, the better."
"Okay," Cooke grumbled. "But you're gonna let me work the guy over a little before you stick him, ain't you?"
"You'll have that personal satisfaction, but that's all."
"But there's nothing stopping you from doing a little fooling around with her until we get to the river, Ray," Floyd said.
Sharon twisted violently in resistance, but the fat beast circled an arm around her neck, tightening it just enough to cut off her struggle and hold her helpless while he hooked his fingers into her white silk blouse and tore it open, then pulled down her bra.
He slobbered over the exposed breasts, worried at them like a dog worried a bone, and Sharon cried out, spasms of pain twisting her face as his cruel teeth made themselves felt. Her eyes rolled wildly in her head.
His arm tightened about her throat, choking off her cries, and there were only the spasmodic jerks of her body to disclose her pain.
Then his hand was burrowing beneath her black skirt, sliding along her taut thighs, and the sickness within her increased.
At that moment the car came to a stop and Chet Garth said, "Okay, let's get moving and get it over with fast."
"We're at the river already?" Cooke said hoarsely.
"What the hell does it look like?" Garth snapped.
"Damn," Cooke grumbled, releasing Sharon.
She fell back weakly, her eyes glazed, her naked breasts heaving with her ragged breathing. Her head felt tight.
"Let's get moving, I said!" Garth yelled, his voice carrying the crack of a whiplash. "Hustle her out. Bert, you hold onto her and see she doesn't scream while me and Ray attend to the guy. Give me the knife."
They stood in the shadow of a dark warehouse, with the river waters lapping gently close by, Sharon held captive by Bert Floyd, her arm twisted up behind her back, her mouth silenced by his hand over her lips, and Vance in the hands of Chet Garth and Ray Cooke.
"I'll hold him up while you slug him," Garth growled, bracing Vance from behind. "Okay, go ahead, Ray."
His face congested with sudden fury, the pudgy assailant proceeded to hit Vance with his fists, and, her heart chilled by the horror that gripped her, Sharon moaned in her throat as she heard the sickening thuds of the blows and Vance's agonized groans. She moaned and strained to pull away from her captor, but he held her securely, laughing in a horrible way.
The terrible strain in her was suddenly stretched beyond endurance, and in sheer desperation she stiffened rigidly against him, then lifted one foot and brought the spiked heel of her shoe down as hard as she could on his instep.
He let out a scream of agony and loosened his hold on her arm and freed her mouth. Quickly she threw all her weight into twisting around, and struck his glasses with her fist, shattering the glass covering his right eye. He screamed shrilly, reeling backward and clutching his glass-pierced eye.
Her heart banging laboriously, Sharon whirled and sprinted off, screaming at the top of her lungs. Screaming for help; screaming because she did not want Vance and her to be murdered, their future gone; screaming because there was little else she could do to save herself and Vance.
Her strained heart in her screaming mouth, she pumped her legs as fast as she could, spurred to all-out effort by the sound of rapid pursuit.
She didn't get far. Chet Garth overtook her quickly, grabbed her, spun her about and slashed his knuckles across her face in a swift blur of movement, knocking her off balance. She sat down on the ground with a jolt that flung her mussed hair over her face.
Cursing savagely, he dragged her to her feet and punched her again, squarely on the left breast. Searing pain flashed through her and she screamed. He punched her in the belly, doubling her over.
Then he was propelling her back to the others. Bert Floyd was moaning and staggering around holding his bleeding eye.
"I can't stand the pain," he cried. "Get me to a doctor, Chet-get me to a doctor! "
"Christ, oh, Christ," babbled Ray Cooke.
Focusing her eyes on Vance's prostrate form with sick anxiety, Sharon felt her heart stop. They'd killed him! But then she saw him move, saw him raise his head, and her heart resumed its tortured beating. She started to sob hysterically.
"Damn you!" Chet Garth snarled, raging, "I'm gonna rip your belly wide open-"
She screamed from a throat that was raw from screaming as he clamped his left hand on the nape of her neck and made ready to thrust the knife blade into her.
And then a loud sharp report rang out, its loudness reverberating through the area, and Garth uttered a weird gasping noise and seemed to rise to his toes, then he fell away from Sharon.
Dazedly she stared as a tall, stout man strode up holding a leveled revolver and ordering Ray Cooke to raise his hands. The fat youth obeyed instantly, fear crawling in his piggish eyes.
"Sharon," Vance called to her then. "Sharon, pick up the knife and cut this rope off my wrists ... Mister, you've saved our lives."
"I'm night watchman for the warehouse here," the man said grimly. "I was up this end of the building when I heard the girl's terrible screaming."
Quickly using the knife to free Vance's bound hands, Sharon helped him to his feet and then hugged him tightly, too overwhelmed by emotion to say anything right then, and Vance held her against him.
Sharon knew now that there was more to life than to live for the moment as she'd been advised to do by Barbara Zarett, and more to love than just the desire to be in Vance's arms. Hers and Vance's close call with death had pressed home that vital knowledge to her.
She had been wrong, so wrong, in having listened to Barbara and followed her advice to the extent she had, Sharon told herself penitently. She couldn't help thinking too that Barbara Zarett's sudden, violent end was a grim lesson showing the wages of sin. She shuddered.
Then she drew a long, shaky breath and relaxed against Vance, tension leaving her body.
"Oh, darling," she said in a voice choked with relief and throbbing with love.
"We're okay, honey," Vance said gently. "Everything will be all right with us now."
