It wouldn't be fair to say that Jane Lowell was a bad girl. She did have some habits that would make the classic Winnipeg Whore look like Little Mary Sunshine, but she couldn't really be blamed for that. She was a victim of circumstance.
The first link in this chain of circumstance was Victor Edward Albert Lowell; he was her daddy. Victor Edward Albert didn't exactly invent money, but his vast industrial and financial empire managed to gather it up in alarming quantities.
It had been said of Victor Edward Albert that he could put two one dollar bills in a cash box and overnight they would produce a litter of tens. But it wasn't that easy, he really worked at being rich and would continue to do so as long as there was another million to be made.
As a result, he didn't get to spend much time with his family, so he did the next best thing, he gave them money. As fast as they could find ways to spend it, he would replenish the supply. It had become something of a game.
Now if Jane Lowell had become adept at playing this game, it was because she had an excellent tutor in the form of her mother, Bunny Lowell. At forty-two, Bunny still had an excellent figure, but made it look even better by encasing it in custom built foundation garments. If there was one thing Bunny preferred more than slipping into a new garment, it was slipping out of one for a young man. The younger he happened to be, the more she enjoyed it.
"Young men," she once confided to her bed hopping friend Ada, "are so much better. They are stronger and so eager to learn and I so enjoy teaching them."
Although Bunny made no great effort to be secretive about her hobby, Victor Edward Albert Lowell chose not to be aware of it. Why, he reasoned, upset family harmony by making a big fuss about a bit of innocent fun. He did, after all, pay the rent on a few lavish apartments around the city which housed, in each case, a charming young woman who could be so sweet to a tired old businessman who was sweet enough to pay her rent.
It was in this kind of atmosphere that Jane grew up. In spite of this, she didn't discover the joys of sex until the age of fourteen. This discovery came one sunny afternoon when she wondered why Bunny and the gardener had locked the door behind them when they slipped into the old carriage house behind the pool.
Being a curious girl, Jane had wheeled her brother's bike up to the side of the old house, climbed up and stood on the crossbar and peeked into the window. Inside, she saw Bunny bending forward with her hands holding the arms of a big chair. Her dress and slip were tossed high over her back, her girdle and panties lay on the floor beside her. The gardener's pants and shorts were tangled about his ankles as he moved toward the arched body which moved in an anxious swaying motion.
Jane had time for a quick lesson in male anatomy. She was surprised that the male accessory was so large and stood at such an angle. It was a brief lesson though, because the man pushed up close against the plump, curving buttocks and the sight was lost from her view.
It was while Jane was studying the next phase of male-female togetherness that the bike moved a little, she lost her balance and grabbed at the window sill. Unfortunately, her face was visible at the window when Bunny, alarmed at the intruding sound, looked up.
The interruption had come at a very bad time for Bunny. She was an extremely angry woman as she rushed outside and clutched the girl by the arm. When a very scared Jane was dragged back into the coach house, she received a terrible scolding. The theme of the lesson was that it is very naughty for girls to peek at adults. Bunny had a fine sense of morality and considered it quite immoral for daughters to peek at their mummies.
The gardener had moved rather quickly and though he was still in the room when Jane was propelled in, he did have his trousers in place. He was an interested spectator as Bunny, still delivering her sermon, pulled Jane over her lap, flipped the dress out of the way, lowered her panties and began to rain a series of very brisk spanks all over the dancing bottom.
Jane cried and kicked her feet as Bunny spanked on and on and on. Although the spanking hurt like blazes, Jane was hurt more by the damage to her dignity; the terrible embarrassment of a 'young woman' of fourteen being spanked on the bare behind before the interested gaze of a man. She thought she would die, but the brilliant color of her firm, young buttocks, as Bunny pulled the panties back up, indicated that Jane was still very much alive. She ran from the coach house as fast as her young legs would carry her. As she left the scene, the door was relocked. Bunny was not one to let a little interruption spoil a good thing.
Jane had no secrets from her brother Bob who was a year older and her best friend in all the world. Holding her offended bottom, she found Bob and told him all about what she had seen.
He was terribly interested and wanted a detailed account. His eager interest stimulated her to forget about the indignity of the spanking and to concentrate on her graphic report.
Later, after she had answered the same questions a half dozen times each, she gave in to Bob's insistent demands and displayed the results of the spanking. She felt deliciously wicked as she held her dress up while Bob lowered the little panties and feasted his eyes. He patted the spanked cheeks and was generally very consoling and, incidentally, quite nosy.
But a girl can't always give without expecting something in return. He was just a little nervous about dropping his trousers, but after that he became absorbed in guiding Jane through a lesson in the anatomy of the male. It was all quite innocent though, just the usual curious explorations of boys and girls.
After that, they concentrated on following Bunny around the estate or at the big country estate at the lake. They caught her a surprising number of times and learned very much.
It could not be considered too surprising that in time, their innocent little games got out of control. Jane had only commenced enjoying this stage of womanhood when Bob went out to play with his birthday present one day. The present was a gleaming new convertible, just the thing for a boy who had become seventeen and had everything else.
He missed a curve at a little better than seventy and after that, he didn't have anything, not even life.
Jane lived in a frightening state of shock after that. For months she cried, refused to talk, rarely ate, showed no interest in life at all. Bob had been the most important thing in her life and he was gone. Sixteen can be a crucial age for a girl at best, but for Jane, it was intolerable.
One day she followed the chauffeur into the garage when Bunny was downtown on a shopping spree. At first he was stunned by her obvious offer. When she left the garage a half hour later, she had found a new interest in life. Her period of mourning came to an end.
That fall, they sent her away to a residential school. The letter that came to her parents two months later indicated as discreetly as possible that Jane was a little too advanced for the other students and that it would be better if she did not return to the school after the Christmas holiday. Two members of the school's maintenance staff were fired and one male teacher operated under a cloud of suspicion.
Jane recommenced her education at an all female institution in January. She quickly discovered that certain joys can be accomplished without male participation and that other girls could be so tender and affectionate. She went on to discover that even teachers can be human; very, very human. When she was kicked out of the school in March, daddy was very understanding.
"Oh well," he replied casually, "you are seventeen now and if you don't want to go back to school, don't go." He bought her a nice car to keep her occupied and cautioned her to drive carefully. He was a very understanding father.
Bunny couldn't really understand what had happened to their daughter. "I just can't understand you, Jane. You have all the advantages other girls don't have, and yet you act like a common tramp."
"Just don't try to spank me again, mother dear," Jane answered confidently, "or I may decide to share the gardener with you. By the way, mother, "how's the new chauffeur in the back seat?"
"Children," Bunny remonstrated, "can be so cruel and unappreciative. You give them the best of everything and look how they turn out."
She became so despondent that she went into town for a massage. Amahl would make her feel good again. He would relax her tense muscles. His hands were so strong, yet gentle. His methods were so unorthodox.
CHAPTER ONE
Over the next few years, Jane did nothing drastic. She read a lot, drank considerably, golfed, lazed in the sun and generally accustomed herself to a life of comfortable boredom.
She still wasn't a candidate for sainthood, by any means, but her frantic chase for sexual thrills had slowed to the point where she was no worse than many other daughters of the idle rich who spent much of their time at the country club.
On this particular morning, she got up at about ten, lazed in a warm tub for a while, then took a cup of coffee back to her room. Dropping her robe to the floor, she prepared to dress. As she saw herself in the full-length mirror, she stopped to take inventory.
Turning from side to side and moving her feet until she found just the right pose, she admired her nude body. Her hands came up to cup the full breasts. She seemed relieved to see that they showed no sign of sag. She was a forty-D, but the breasts rode high and firm much as her fourteen-year-old nubbins had done.
Her mind went back over the years, remembering how she had checked the budding breasts impatiently each day looking for the miracle of growth overnight. Now, at twenty, she could be satisfied with them. As she toyed with rich, ripe globes, it became more than just an inventory. Her fingers pinched at the rosebud nipples. She felt them harden and thrust out. She thought of some of the hungry male mouths which had caused the same quick growth and in doing so, she felt the fires burn and spread.
Her hands slid down along her sides, over the trim waist and over the flaring swell of hips and buttocks. Here, too, she found the same pleasing fullness and firmness. Her hands thrilled at the silkiness of her own creamy skin. She moved them down to feel the white silk of her thighs. Her legs were long, beautifully curved, deliciously fleshed.
Her hands slid up over the warm inner thighs until they met at a new and greater warmth. They lingered there for a moment. Her fingers began to probe as if with a will of their own. She stopped them suddenly. Oh, no, she thought, not this morning too. She had gone to sleep that way the night before, but it obviously had not been enough to quench the fires.
Moving to the window, she saw the Japanese gardener working among the shrubs outside. She stood there naked and watched as his head raised, his eyes moving until they stopped at her window. She turned her body from side to side, making sure that he could see the full panorama of her feminine charms.
She saw the lined, weather-beaten Oriental face, usually so impassive, light up .He was so appreciative of these surprise goodies. He was the only member of the household staff on whom she ever bestowed her favors now and he received them only because it seemed to make him so happy. She loved to watch the way his eyes gleamed with child-like happiness as she raised her dress and invited him to remove her panties.
Jane had given him a huge thrill standing before her window. She decided to hurry out to the coach house and make his day really complete. She dressed hurriedly, remembering that she would be playing golf later. Over her bra and panties, she slipped on a blouse and skirt.
Three minutes later, she walked into the coach house and stood with the door held open. Her warm smile was a lovely invitation to the man who crouched behind the shrubbery, his gentle hands moving the rich, dark soil.
Jane watched as he stood, shook the soil from his hands, rubbed them on his trousers and walked to her. As he approached, she tore off the blouse and moved to strip the skirt down her legs. She had not planned it this way, but now she decided she wanted to be naked.
Her bra had been tossed aside and she was bending to peel the clinging panties down her thighs as he reached her. He stared in obvious fascination. His eyes moved from the pink and white and tan of her nude form to his soil covered hands. He turned to hurry to the sink to wash them. She reached for him and stopped him.
Wordlessly, she took his hands and placed them on her body. With gentle, insinuating movements, she indicated that she wanted him to move his hands all over her; wanted to feel the rich, chafing soil on her sensitive skin. He understood. One work-hardened, soil-covered hand clasped a buttock, the other cupped a milky-white breast.
Jane saw the brownish streaks of soil on the whitness of her skin. It held a wildly erotic spell for her. Her body writhed under his seeking hands. Despite their hardness, they were gentle, tender. They carried her to a peak of arousal that could not be sustained.
She fell to the couch. Her full breasts heaved, the pink nipples seemed to wink a lovely invitation, her long, lovely legs waved in invitation to embrace, her smooth thighs parted in revelation of erotic desire. He came to her quickly. Their bodies met, blended, rocked, heaved and fell into the utter release of physical satisfaction.
Jane got up and dressed then. She felt better than she had in a long time. She was buttoning her blouse when she saw Bunny hurrying toward the coach house. There was no time to escape, so she dropped down behind a pile of discarded lawn furniture. She wasn't afraid of her mother any longer, she had grown out of that long ago. She was concerned, though, about causing trouble for the gardener. She knew that if Bunny was coming in search of what she thought she was, he would have trouble enough.
It soon became obvious that her hunch was right. Bunny held her skirt high over her girdle as she walked into the room. In a minute, she was twisting out of the tight confinement of elastic and lace. She knelt on the rough, cold floor, her face buried in the seat of the chair, her big behind twisting and writhing. She reminded Jane of a demanding bitch in heat.
Jane watched as the gardener knelt behind the woman, lowered his trousers and tried manfully to meet her demands. It was obvious that he was not going to make it. Jane wanted to rush out from her hiding place and slap the fat, white buttocks, wanted to take the garden trowel beside her and push it into Bunny's obscene wanting. Here, Bunny, she would say as she drove it hard ahead, if this doesn't do the trick, try the other end. She knew she wouldn't though, because she didn't want to cause trouble for him. Instead, she crept quietly out of the room. She saw the man's hand move between the fat buttocks, reach between the parted, quivering thighs. He's an enterprising fellow, Jane thought, he'll find a way to meet the demands of the day.
She went back to the house for another quick bath. Dressed again and feeling delightfully relaxed, she walked to her car. She planned an easy drive to the country club and a game of golf.
As the big car gunned out of the driveway into the warm sunlight of the wooded road, it seemed like a pleasant day for a drive along the quiet back roads to the club. The mechanism whirred as the top rolled down, the warm sun bore in on her, the wind blew her hair. Life was very beautiful today. She tried to feel shame about what she had done in the coach house, but she remembered the look of sheer delight on the man's face and just couldn't find regret or shame in her. She would just enjoy the drive.
Jane could hardly have known that her day had already been planned for her. It would not be nearly as pleasant as she had planned. She was about to find out about that.
As she came out of the turn and moved into the straightaway between the tall pines, she saw the car stalled in the middle of the narrow road ahead. She hit her brakes, stopped, and got out to see what was wrong.
CHAPTER TWO
"Sure, Ma, the Lowell dame means plenty of dough, but I'm not sure we should grab her. A woman's goin' to be tougher to handle than a kid. I still say we should snatch the Carstairs kid."
"Look, George, I'm still running this show." Mrs. Travers drew up her full, fat bulk over her thirty-five-year-old son. "I say we take the Lowell woman. Her old man has tons of dough and he'll part with fifty grand without a yelp. And besides, you know Don wants a woman."
"The hell with Don," George shot back angrily, "let him keep on playing with himself." He looked at the balding, stooped figure of his brother who sat on the couch looking detached from the world.
"That's no way to talk about your brother," the woman retorted. "If that snooty wife of yours would help him, he wouldn't be so bad.
"Lay off that stuff, ma. Grace ain't goin' to have nothin' to do with him. Are you crazy or somethin?"
"All right then George boy, we grabed the Lowell dame. That way we get our dough, little Donnie gets at her pants and everythin's peachy. Right?"
"Okay, Ma. We grab the Lowell dame. I may even take a crack at her myself."
"Duchess Gracie ain't gonna like that," she cackled delightedly.
"Screw Grace. She ain't gonna give me no trouble. I can look after her."
"Yeah? Then why don't you get her to do somethin' for poor Don? You know he ain't so smart. He can't get a woman hisself."
"Don ain't gettin' close to my wife, now get that straight. Now let's plan this job right so we don't screw it up."
For a long time, they sat over the cluttered kitchen table planning the details of kidnaping Jane Lowell. When it became obvious that Grace would have to help, George called her. She walked into the kitchen, not quite drunk, not quite sober. Her idea of a business uniform for the meeting consisted of not quite white nylon panties. Her heavy breasts flopped with each step. They sagged a little, but that didn't distract from their beauty as far as Don Travers was concerned.
"Please, Grace, let me touch 'em, huh? Cawmon Grace, let me rub you a bit, huh?"
"Shut up, pig," she snarled. "Keep your dirty hands off me."
"For Chrissake, Grace," her husband complained, "why don't you put some clothes on? How do you expect that silly bastard to stop drooling at you if you won't dress?"
"Don't talk to me like that, George," she snapped haughtily, "I am not accustomed to being spoken to in that manner." She punctuated her badly spoken message by swaying her fat breasts in the way an aristocratic lady would sweep her mink stole.
"Oh, I'd just love to watch Donny tear a hunk off you, you snooty bitch," the old woman cackled. "Just wait Don, you'll get into her pants yet and I'll be there to cheer." Her insane laugh seemed to fill the shanty.
"For Chrissake, will you stupid broads get your minds off tail and settle down to business," George roared. When the chips were down, Ma Travers ran the show, but right now, George was trying to get the meeting to order. Kidnapping meant a long stretch in the pen and he didn't look forward to that. He wanted this plan to be just right.
Over the old woman's objections, it was settled that he and Grace would pull the caper. Don was to stay home and the old woman would stay with him to make sure he stayed there. He and Grace would watch for the Lowell dame on her way to the country club. When they saw her pull onto the dirt road, he would stall the car in the middle of the road. When she got out, he would grab her. If she fought, he would belt her. Grace would drive their car back, he would drive the dame's car. If the Lowell dame woke and made any fuss, he would hit her again and shut her up. It would be that easy.
"I think you should take Don with you," Ma Travers protested, "he can "keep the dame under control while you drive."
"Yeah? Who's goin' to keep him under control? I don't want that horny nut trying to make the dame while I'm trying to drive. This is goin' to be tough enough without him along."
On Monday morning, George and Grace took off in the eight-year-old Chev to pick up their prize. Ma Travers stayed behind with Don. After they left, she told him of her plans to get him a woman all to himself.
"She's real purtty, Don, you're gonna like her real good. I'll bet she wears real purtty little things under her dress and she'll smell real good."
She felt her dirty housedress being tugged up. She felt the clumsy hands pawing at her fleshy thighs. "Not this time Don. You just control yourself. In a little while, she'll be here and you can have her all to yourself. I'll help you Donny boy. We'll both have lots of fun."
He smiled at her with stupid gratitude. He liked his Ma, he wanted to take the big smooth bloomers down, but today he would wait. She had promised him something new and better. He thought of what it would be like. He couldn't really imagine it, but he decided to wait to find out.
As he waited, George and Grace were also waiting. The old Chevy had been parked at the top of the hill above the swamp where they had a complete view of the road for miles in both directions. It was a quiet road that carried little traffic. Most people preferred the main county road with its paved surface. He was glad that the Lowell dame liked the quiet old dirt road. It was going to make their job a lot safer. He thought again of the power of the Lowell money and wanted all the safeguards he could find. He looked at his wife who stood beside the car, saw her massive breasts barely contained in the thin blouse and realized that he didn't want to spend ten or twenty years in some stinking pen without being able to get his hands on them. He wanted to make very sure that the caper went well.
The road was still clear in both directions. He became impatient. Damn her, he thought, she usually passes here before this. He could see his wife looking nervous. He could tell she was ready for action. He thought of what his stupid brother would do with her if he got the chance, thought of how his mother pressured him to have his wife look after Don. To hell with them both, he thought, ain't nobody but me gonna do nothin' with Grace.
That seemed like a good idea. The road was deserted. He could bend her over the back of the car, flip her skirt up, pull the tight panties down and hack off a quick one. She'd like that, he told himself. He felt the urge rise within him. He kicked it back down. The hell with it, he told himself, this is big money, real big money. I'm just gonna keep it in my pants until we get that dame back at the shack. After that, I'll find some way to get rid of Grace for a while and I'll get me some of that rich dame's hot pants. If he had his wav, brother Don was going to keep right on waiting for a while. Let Ma look after the dumb bastard. I'm goin' to get some of that for me before that stupid bastard gets close to her.
Far off to the left he saw a small cloud of dust as a car turned onto the dirt road. It looked as though it had turned out of the Lowell place. Hurriedly, he climbed to the top of the knoll to make sure. He couldn't be positive, but he was sure enough to act. The car was just over two miles away. In the other direction, the road was clear for four miles.
Fighting to retain balance, he ran down the hill and pulled the car door open. He shouted to Grace to get in fast. He gave her a quick rundown on what she was expected to do before he kicked the car into gear and moved into the center of the narrow dirt road. Satisfied with the position of the car, he killed the engine and got out. He called to Grace to follow him.
He was about to get his hands on the Lowell dame, he wasn't that concerned about Grace being injured in case of a crash. He just wanted it to look like a nice innocent looking couple with car trouble. He wanted to make sure she would stop. He watched as the car roared out of the curve, he saw her hit the brakes, saw the gravel fly as the wheels bit, saw the car come to a stop a good ten feet behind his car.
He remained motionless as she opened the door and got out. He knew she must have been showing a bunch of leg as she reached for the road, but he had to stay put. He had to get her far enough from her car so that she couldn't make a run for it. He felt the blood pounding in his veins, but he glued his feet to the dirt road. Looking toward Grace, he could see that she looked bored. He looked at the beautiful young woman walking toward them, saw the imprint of her thighs against the material of the skirt, saw the thrust of her big breasts against the blouse. He felt his mouth water. If he played it right, he would have her curled up on the front seat of the car in just a couple of minutes. He waited.
"Having trouble?" Her voice was clear and friendly.
"Yeah," he tried to keep his voice calm," do you know anything about engines?"
"Not much." She was within feet of him now. He saw the beginning of cleavage at the opening of her blouse. He imagined what those breasts looked like just below. He thought of how they would feel under his hands.
"Would you take a look and see if you can tell what the trouble is?" Grace's voice sounded hard and ugly to him, but he saw that Jane was walking toward the front of the car.
"Here," he offered, "I'll open the hood." He did. She bent to look at the engine. He saw the smooth, silken neck below him. He raised his right arm and brought it down in a chopping motion. She didn't make a sound. She fell against the car. He reached for her and caught her before she could fall to the dirt road. She felt light and warm in his arms. He had to get rid of Grace.
"Come on," he roared at her, "get that car back to the house."
She seemed to be looking at him suspiciously. He moved his hand reluctantly off Jane's breast. "This ain't the time for fun," she hissed, "I want you right behind me when we hit the house."
"Shut up and get that car out of here, I'll be right behind you."
As Grace climbed into the Chev, he carried his precious load back and dumped her into the front seat of the Lincoln. He made sure that her skirt was hiked well up her thighs before he pushed the car to life. Grace was a half mile up the road. That's good enough, he reasoned. His left hand held the wheel, his right reached to fondle the silken thighs. He moved the skirt up a little higher. He saw the black nylon panties. His hand moved again. He decided it felt very smooth. His hand moved over the warm, silken slopes. This, he thought, is goin' to be real good. Too good to waste on brother Don. He cut the speed to just over thirty. His left hand continued to guide the wheel, his right moved easily, eagerly over the nylon sheathed mounds under the skirt.
For a moment, George considered pulling off the road to make a more thorough investigation of the panties and their contents, but Grace would be waiting and she would be suspicious enough. As a compromise, he forced his hand between her thighs, pressed between the smooth silkiness of her skin until he felt the thin nylon under his hand. Through the warm material, he could feel the warm softness of the woman. Oh man, he thought, is this gonna be good.
When she began to move, he pulled his hand away quickly, reluctantly. He pulled her skirt down so that it covered her hips and a portion of her upper thighs. What remained in view was still a pretty good consolation prize. They were only a few minutes from the farm now, George hoped he would't have to hit her again.
Jane came alive quickly when she began to snap out of it. Her eyes opened wide, a look of alarm in them.
"Where am I? Who are you? What happened?" The questions poured form her in a flood.
He decided to keep her calm for the remaining minute or two it would take to get to the farm. There was no point in getting her upset now.
"There was an accident," he told her. "You were looking at the engine and the hood fell on your neck. I'm just takin' you to my place until you get over it. Ma'll take care of you."
Jane was less than convinced, but she couldn't bring herself to be really alarmed. The back of her head and neck ached dully. She saw that her skirt was hiked up so that much of her thigh was exposed to the driver. She saw that he was staring, but that didn't bother her. Men liked to look at her legs and their attention pleased her. Even now, when she was less than comfortable about the circumstances, she wasn't concerned about this strange man staring at the tops of her nylons. She wondered if he had seen more while she was unconscious. She tried to think back, to figure out what had happened. She remembered stopping behind the stalled car, remembered the man and woman, bending over the car engine, then nothing.
The car turned off the rough dirt road and into a rougher lane. She saw the shabby looking farm house ahead, looking lonely and bleak among the trees. Jane felt a shudder of fear race through her. Something was wrong here, she sensed, but she was powerless to do anything about it. She decided to play it cool until she could find out more.
George stopped the car in front of the house and got out hurriedly. He came around to her side to help her out. He didn't usually do this sort of thing, but he realized that sitting as she was, she would have to show plenty in getting out. He was right too. There was a not too hurried display of nylon tops and bare thigh as she climbed out and stood rather weakly. He put an arm around her to support her. It felt good. He could feel the firmness of her body and knew it would feel great without that blouse and skirt in the way.
As he guided her up the porch steps, he permitted his arm to slip a little lower so that his hand brushed the top slopes of her buttocks. It felt so good that he was tempted to clutch more boldly, but the door was opening and he didn't want a scene right now. If he played his cards right, and he intended doing so, he would soon reach the stage of showing the family that he was boss of the situation and could do what he wanted with her. He determined to do this without wasting time. This little broad's too good to waste, he decided.
Ma Travers stood in the doorway to greet the new guest. She hadn't bothered to dress up for the occasion, but she did offer a friendly greeting.
"It's nice of you to visit us, Miss Lowell."
Jane was concerned that they knew her name, but she didn't show it.
"I don't think I had much choice in the matter," she replied.
"That's right, honey, you didn't." The woman stood back and ushered Jane into the house. "Now if you're a real good girl, you're gonna have a real pleasant stay with us. Our place ain't fancy like yours, but you'll find us real friendly if you act nice."
Jane didn't bother replying. She saw another man sitting at the end of the table. The way his eyes crawled over her like two wet insects made her flesh creep. She realized fully now that she was in trouble. Possibily worse trouble than she had imagined. She felt an urge to sprint for the door and make a break, but knew she didn't have a chance. She would have to wait for an opportunity when there were fewer people around to watch her. Somehow though, she was going to have to get out of here as fast as she could.
"Can I now, Ma? Can I? You promised." Don's beady eyes glistened as he talked to his mother.
"You just shut up, Donny baby, I'll keep my promise," the woman replied. "She's a real pretty thing, ain't she?"
"Yeah Ma, she's purtty. I like her a lot. Can I now, Ma?"
Jane hoped that what she was thinking was wrong. Could it possibly be that they intended to turn her over to this ugly defective creature? She had heard of women letting dogs get into them and it had always made her feel queasy. Right now, the thought of a nice clean dog looked much more attractive than this unclean animal.
"Would someone please tell me what is going on here? Am I a prisoner or something?" If things were as wrong as they seemed to be, she may as well know, she reasoned.
"Well now," Ma Travers answered, "I wouldn't say you're a prisoner. Let's just say you're a guest. We're gonna send your old man a little bill for your keep and as soon as he pays, you'll be leaving."
Jane was stunned. She had expected something less than good news, but the realization that she was kidnapped by this group hit her with stunning force.
"Do you mean I've been kidnapped?"
Ma smiled. "Well, dearie, I guess you could call it that. Yeah, I guess that's as good a word as any."
"But there are laws about that. They'll be looking for me. You can't get away with it."
"You gotta admit," George interjected, "we're makin' a pretty good try. Sure, they'll be lookin' for you, but why would they suspect nice law abidin' folks like us?"
Ma and Grace laughed at the humor of his innocent tone.
"All right, get in touch with my father. If you ask a reasonable price, he'll pay. Just get it over with."
"Easy now, Miss Lowell," George stopped her, "there ain't no real rush about it. We're gonna give the old man a couple a days to think about it. We wanna make sure he gets all nice and worried about his little girl. Meanwhile, we'll just be one big happy family."
Jane remained silent, her mind was absorbing the seriousness of the situation.
"This boy of mine ain't got very good manners," Ma spoke. "He should of introduced us." She went about the formal introductions on a first name basis. When she came to Don, her voice became a little more gentle, it was the tome of a mother showing off her baby, her pride and joy.
"This here's Don. He's a real good boy and I can tell he likes you a lot Jane. I think you two'll cotton to each other real good."
Don looked ready to leap at her like an animal. She shuddered. She was thankful when George changed the subject.
"We gotta get that big car of hers. outta sight. You come with me Don and we'll clear space for it in the barn."
"No, I wanna stay here with her," he said, his eves crawling over her again."
"You do as you're told, Don." The mother's tone was one of command. Jane wondered if she could really control this hulking animal.
"No, Ma, I wanna stay with her. I ain't goin."
Ma got up and walked to the table. From the shelf above it, she picked up a flat stick and pointed to Don with it. "You do as you're told Don, or I'll take your pants down and give you a damn good lickin'. Would you like that, baby?"
He cowered in child-like fear. He scampered to his feet and hurried out of the house ahead of his brother. Jane's look of surprise was obvious. The woman saw it.
"I don't know how they do things in your family, Jane, but I know how to bring up kids real good. When I put him across my lap and spank his behind, he howls like a kid. Maybe you never got your rich little ass spanked, but if you act up, you'll get it fer sure."
Jane blanched. It was obvious that the old woman meant what she said. She also looked more than strong enough to do it. Jane estimated her height at about five-eight, her weight about a hundred a sixty or more. She had big, strong looking hands and the powerful arms of a laborer. Jane hoped she would never find out just how strong those arms were.
While the men were gone, Ma poured three mugs of coffee and invited Jane to join her and Grace at the table. She brought the meeting to order and introduced the first item of business.
"Now, Jane, you're gonna be with us for a little while. If you act real friendly, we'll treat you good. If you make any fuss or act unfriendly, you're gonna be real sorry."
"I'll cooperate," Jane shrugged. "I don't want to make things worse than they are."
"Now that's real smart. The first thing I want you to do is about little Don. You see, he ain't never had a woman of his own. Grace here won't have nothin' to do with him. He keeps pawin' at her and pullin' her skirt up to look at her, but she won't give it to him. Now that ain't healthy."
She paused for a breath. Jane tried to control the shudders she felt sweeping over her.
"Now of course, I do what I can for him, but that ain't really right. He really needs a pretty young woman like you, one what's nice and smooth and soft and fresh. When the boys come in, what say you and him sit on the couch here and you let him do it to you. Is that okay?"
"No." It was more a gasp than a word.
"Now look here, Lady Jane, I warned you once. You're gonna do like you're told around here. I'll bet there's been lots of guys got in them little pants of yours. It ain't gonna hurt none to let Don do it. It'll make him feel real good and we'll be here to make sure he don't get too rough or nothin."
"That's right, Janie," Grace contributed, "we'll be right here watching all the way. Maybe if you make it real good, me and George will get so raspy that we'll do it too. It can be a real party, I don't know what Ma here will do, but she'll figure out something."
"My God, you must all be crazy," Jane was almost screaming. "You just can't do things like that. I won't do it."
"You'll do it," Ma snapped, "It's just a matter of doing it with a damn sore ass if you give me any argument."
Outside, they heard the engine of the big Lincoln come to life. Jane saw it drive past the house and into the barn. George and Don hurried out and closed the barn doors. There was something ominous about the closing of the big gray doors, as if her last hope of escape had been removed. Jane held her face in her hands and fought down a compelling urge to scream.
She heard the men come back into the house and knew that the showdown was approaching. For a moment, she considered giving in and agreeing to meet their fantastic demands, but she rejected the idea. The thought of undressing under the gaze of this group, being pawed by the dirty, hulking beast while the others watched was too much. She just couldn't bring herself to do it.
"Okay Ma," Don boomed as he walked into the room, "I done what you told me, now can I?"
"Well, Donny, I did ask her about that, but she seems kind of nervous about it. Maybe we can convince her though. Why don't you get undressed and show her you're ready."
Without even a trace of embarrassment, the man unbuttoned his dirty shirt and threw it aside. He unfastened his pants and dropped them to the floor. He was naked.
Jane had watched in spite of herself. He was a well built man and it was obvious that he was more than ready.
"Now look at that," his mother said with enthusiasm, "ain't he really built? I guess any normal woman would like to take that."
Don beamed at this praise from his mother. He flexed his muscles-all of them-and shivered with anticpation as he thought of seeing this beautiful woman undress, touching her, doing those special things to her.
Mrs. Travers sat on the couch beside Jane and spoke quietly. "Look now Jane, you gotta do this real willing, like you enjoy it. It would hurt him if he thought you didn't want to. Come on now, you peel off them duds like a nice girl and get ready for a nice big treat."
"I can't, I just can't do it." Jane kept her voice low, but the look of disappointment on Don's face indicated he had heard her.
"Tell 'er to do it Ma," he pleaded, "tell 'er."
Ma moved closer to the shivering young woman beside her. This time she whispered, but the whisper carried the full authority of a shouted command.
"I'm going to tell you one more time, Lady Jane, and you better listen real good. You get outa them clothes and let Don here play with you all over and go all the way. If you don't, I'm gonna blister your ass real good."
"No! No! No! I can't. I just can't do it." Jane had jumped to her feet, but before she could take a step, she felt her arm being grabbed by a vise-like hand, felt herself pulled sprawling over the woman's lap. With one sweep, her dress had been raised well above her hips. She felt all eyes in the room fasten on her panty clad bottom, her naked thighs.
Don lumbered clumsily to the couch, he stared down at the near naked beauty across his mother's lap.
"Gosh Ma," he rasped, "look at them purtty white legs and the nice little pants. Let me touch, Ma. Let me touch."
"All right, Donny boy. I guess that wouldn't hurt none." She held Jane trapped in her strong arms and watched as Don placed one hand on the smooth thighs. He ran his hand quickly up over the slope of the tightly drawn nylon panties.
Kneeling then, he placed both hands on her. At first, his touch was gentle, then, as his excitement grew, he became rougher, more insistent. His fingers probed cruelly. Jane gasped and twisted in a frenzied effort to escape, but her motions only increased her attractiveness. The firm, rounded buttocks writhing within the sheath of nylon only served to make the man more excited. His hands were all over her, his rough palms rasped against the thin material of the panties, against the soft skin of her upper thighs.
"You move back now boy, I'm gonna spank her real good. I'm gonna learn her some manners."
Reluctantly, Don drew back a little. He saw his mother grasp the waistband of the little panties and draw them quickly down over the milky-white globes.
But he was not the only one watching intently. George had gotten up from his chair and stood above the girl to watch the unveiling of her behind. His excitement was as obvious as Don's. Grace commented on it as she too came for a closer look. But Don had no intention of being crowded out. Still kneeling, he moved in again. Once again Jane felt his rough hands on her.
The woman pushed him back. "You just stay put Donny, I'm going to give Lady Jane a real lickin' now."
"Yeah Ma," he encouraged, "give it to her good. Make her do it Ma."
Slap! The woman's hand struck with the force of solid leather and Jane felt fire inside the skin of her right buttock. Slap! This time she felt a matching blaze in the other cheek. Again and again the big, hard hand rose and fell. Each time, there was a sound like a pistol shot; with each spank, the level of Jane's cries rose to a scream which subsided only to rise again with the next brutal slap.
Within a minute, both round cheeks had been thoroughly slapped and colored, but the woman was far from finished. Jane threshed and twisted, but could not elude the grasp of the woman. There was no way of protecting her more than sensitive buttocks from the slapping hand. Jane had no way of knowing what effect she was having on the entire group who watched the spanking of her naked bottom, but even if she did, it wouldn't matter. All that mattered was the searing soreness of her behind, the feeling of complete, utter helplessness at the hands of these inhuman monsters.
"Ma, Ma," Don was moaning in obvious discomfort, "you gotta do somethin." His hands moved to meet his urgent need.
The woman saw it. She couldn't see her baby suffer like this.
Pushing Jane roughly from her lap, she stood. Taking Don by the hand, she walked toward her bedroom with him.
"There now baby, Ma's goin' to make it all better for you." She knelt on the shabby, unmade bed and tossed her skirt high on her naked back. She wore no panties.
"Come on Donny, baby, we'll do it that special way you like so much. Come on baby."
He went to her eagerly. Jane had flattered them by considering them animals.
CHAPTER THREE
When Ma and Don left the room, Jane huddled, crying on the floor. Her discarded panties were tangled around her feet. The cracked oilcloth flooring was rough, but its coolness offered a measure of relief to her blazing bottom.
Grace brushed her hand across the front of her husband and smiled at him.
"I guess you're kind of hot to trot, big boy," she teased. "I guess maybe you'd like to grab a hunk of what that little doll keeps in her pretty little panties."
"You're damn right I would, Grade." Surely, he thought, she isn't going to tell me to go ahead. He hoped that was what she had in mind.
"Well, big boy, I'll make a little deal with you." His eyes lit up at the promise of this unexpected windfall.
"What kind of deal?"
"Well, it's like this. You can have this pretty little, chick and do anything you like with her. Now isn't that a nice offer?"
"It sure as hell is, baby, but what's the rest of it?" He was obviously suspicious.
"The rest of it, Georgie honey, is that I have her first."
"You? What in hell are you going to do? Are you some kind of a queer or somethin?"
"There's nothing queer about it George. There are lots of nice games two gals can play together. Want to watch?"
"Hot damn. I'll say I want to watch."
"Then start watching, big boy, and by the time I'm finished with her you're going to be real ready. I'll be surprised if you can last more than ten seconds when you take over."
"Just get goin', baby, get goin'."
With a wide smile, Grace pulled her dress over her head. Wearing only bra and panties, she advanced toward the girl who sobbed with her head against the couch. Crouching beside her, she placed an arm around her gently. Her face brushed lightly against Jane's. She spoke softly, in a soothing whisper.
"Poor kid. That was an awful spanking you got, honey." Her hand moved soothingly down Jane's back, under the skirt, and cupped one hot cheek. The hand massaged gently, soothingly. She felt the woman begin to respond. Easily, she guided her onto the couch pulling the skirt free and raising it high on her back. She saw her husband's eyes glued on Jane's naked buttocks and knew that he was building to a fever pitch.
Her hand continued to rub gently over the spanked surface while her other hand moved lightly to the front of Jane's blouse. It too stroked smoothly, gently. When she became confident that the response was growing, she unfastened the top button of the blouse. The second button followed quickly. Her face pressed against the revealed flesh, her lips nibbled gently, her right hand continued to move easily over the inflamed buttocks.
There would be no resistence now. Confidently, she unfastened the other buttons of the blouse and drew it back to reveal the more than fully filled bra. Cupping the bottom of one cup, she raised it, exposing more of the milky-white flesh before covering it with her lips, sliding her moist tongue over the surface.
Jane did not protest as Grace slid the blouse off her arms and reached for the fastener of the bra. It snapped open and her deliciously rounded breasts bobbed free. Standing across the room, George saw this new revelation and hoped he could hold on long enough to get at her.
As she surrendered her having breasts to the eager mouth of the woman, Jane turned and saw George watching. She recoiled. Grace held her. "Forget about him, honey," she whispered, "he gets his kicks out of watching. It's just you and me baby, you and me." Her lips closed over the growing nipple again. She turned her face away from George and tried to lose herself in the eager, gentle caresses of the woman. It was working.
As he watched, George saw Grace's bra fall away. A minute later, her panties were sliding down her big thighs. She too was naked. Moving with quick, jerking motions, he too began to undress. Naked, he moved closer to watch the writhing bodies on the couch.
They moved slowly, with an erotic rhythm. As Jane lay on her back, Grace traced a line of wet kisses over her belly, kept moving down until her lips reached the beautiful juncture of the silken thigh. They parted willingly and the face moved closer, until it was lost from sight. Only the back of her head showed as she lost herself in the body of the other woman.
Her own body was moving so that, slowly, it straddled Jane. He saw the massive buttocks stand curved above the passion twisted face, then begin to sink. Eager hands rose to guide the plump cheeks, the big, smooth, parted thighs, eager lips reached to meet them. The two melded together in passionate embrace.
While he watched impatiently, he saw Grace draw her body tense for a moment, then relax with a heavy sigh. As she did, Jane began to go through the same movements. He approached them.
He tried to be gentle, but his movements were rough as he pushed Grace aside and took her place on the soft, perspiration bathed body. He moved between the still wide open thighs and guided his aroused maleness into her warm, moist body. His hands fondled her breasts roughly, his body arched and pumped like a stallion. His mouth covered hers. Her initial resistance dissipated. In spite of herself, her legs wrapped around him, her bottom heaved up from the couch, her arms wrapped around his broad back, fingernails raking the skin in passionate abandon.
For a long time, he lay on her, his breath pumping painfully through tired lungs, his pulses racing. She said nothing, she made no effort to push him away.
As she felt his nude, spent body heaving on her, felt their mingled sweat running in little trickles, she wondered what had happened to her. Why didn't I fight, she asked herself. Am I sinking as low as they are? Oh my God, what's happening to me?
She heard the bedroom door open, felt him clamber off her. Felt herself lying naked and exposed to the view of everyone in the room. She felt a little less concerned when she saw that both Ma and the ugly Don were also naked. She noticed that he was no longer aroused as he had been a little earlier. That made her feel a little sick. The sight of the older woman's flabby, naked body only added to the feeling of uneasiness.
Jane drew her legs together and twisted into a sitting position on the couch. She wanted to reach for her clothes to cover herself, but decided that since the others had chosen to remain naked, she would probably only draw attention to herself by dressing. It wasn't easy, but it could be tougher if she chose to be different.
"So her ladyship isn't a little virgin after all," Ma commented tartly. "You let George do it, but you wouldn't help poor little Don. How do you figure that, Miss Ritchbitch?"
Jane looked away and chose not to answer. She hoped she would get away with it.
"Leave her alone Ma," George interrupted, everybody's happy right now, let's leave it like that."
"Sure everybody's happy," she snapped back, "but I shouldn't have to do that for him when there are two other women in the house. Besides," she rubbed herself behind, "it hurt like hell."
George laughed. "If you can't take him, Ma, who in hell can?" Grace joined him in his laugh. Don watched as they enjoyed the laugh and joined them. It seemed like the thing to do. Ma looked angrily at them as they howled with glee.
"Some goddamn family I got," she spat.
"Yeah Ma," George taunted her, "maybe you should put us back where we came from and try again." He broke into a new burst of laughter. Grace joined him, slapping her fat rump as she bent over in enjoyment of the humor. Don Still wanted to be one of the group, so he went along with the expression of mirth.
The older woman stomped angrily out of the house. They watched her walk angrily through the back yard to the old outhouse. As they looked through the window, they saw a truck slow down on the dirt road across the field. The driver was obviously startled at the sight of the big woman walking naked through the yard, her fat buttocks jiggling with each step, her big breasts bobbing with the exertion of walking.
"Stupid old bitch," George hissed, "she'll never learn to wear clothes when she goes outside. People around here are goin' to think we're some kind of hillbillies." The thought horrified him. He couldn't have put it into words, but he felt they should maintain a sense of dignity. He didn't realize that the cards were stacked against that eventuality. A few minutes later, they watched her waddle back across the yard. On the return trip, her heavy breasts flapped even more than her buttocks had done when they were exposed to the other view.
When the old woman returned to the house, Grace and Jane wore bra and panties and managed to look even more nude than they had when they were naked. George wore his pants. Watching the others, even Don had managed to climb into his pants and look very satisfied with himself. He still divided his attention between the two females of excitement. Jane noted this and was less than delighted. It could only mean more trouble, she knew.
Her opinion was confirmed when Ma roared back into the house. "A fine family you are," were her opening words, "you won't help your poor little brother but you have your own fun." Her anger seemed to be directed mostly at George.
"Now hold your horses, Ma," he replied, "little Don here looks pretty happy to me. I think you done real good by him in there."
"That ain't like it should be and you know it," she retorted hotly. "A Ma shouldn't oughta hafta do that for no boy. If your Grace would take her pants off for him once in a while, there wouldn't be no trouble."
"Why Ma," Grace retorted with a sarcastic smile, "why didn't you tell me that's what you wanted. Here, Donny boy," she lowered her panties and wiggled at him, "is this all you want? Take a real good look Donny boy, it may make a man of you."
That proved to be too much for Ma. Nobody was going to tease her boy like that and get away with it. Moving with surprising speed, she picked up the flat stick off the shelf and, seemingly in the same motion, wrapped her left arm around Grace's bare waist. Grace waved her arms and emitted a string of curses but it was all in vain. Ma had her tightly wrapped and had no intention of letting go.
The stick whistled through the air and landed with a resounding smack across the tightly filled seat of her panties. Grace yelped and looked to her husband for support.
"Hot damn, Gracie baby, you sure do look right fine dancing like that. Give it to her Ma," he encouraged, "make her dance. Slap up that fat fanny, Ma."
The woman needed no encouragement at all. Grace's panties were lowered to the point where they covered the lower half of her plump bottom. Pausing for a moment, Ma lowered them so that both full cheeks were exposed to the sting of the improvised paddle.
"So you think it's big fun to tease poor Donny, do you?" slap ... slap...."Well take that ... smack ... and that ... smack ... and that. Let's see how you like being teased this way. Again and again the smooth stick slapped against Grace's smooth buttocks. Her cries and contortions only seemed to spur the woman on.
Naked, her huge breasts flapping, Ma danced the younger woman around the room, the stick beating out a weird rhythm across her round behind. The more she hurled curses at the woman with the stick, the more Ma slapped at her jiggling backside.
But if Ma was enjoying her exercise, Don was beside himself with pleasure. He unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall to the floor. Without taking his eyes off the tableau before him, he kicked them away and followed the spanking parade, his eyes never leaving the rounded cheeks which danced under the stinging slaps of the stick.
When Ma stopped for a moment to catch her breath, Don moved quickly. With surprising speed, he was pressing against the twisting, reddened behind. His hand fumbled for a moment, then, with a smile of delight, he rammed forward. Seeing what was happening, Ma cackled happily as she held the writhing woman under her arm.
"Go ahead Grace," she crowed, "do you like to tease little Don? Tease him now, Grade. Tease him."
Don had wrapped his arms around the woman's belly and had taken control of her from his mother. Seeing that he didn't need her help, she stood back and shouted words of encouragement to him. George sat back and laughed. It was as though it were the funniest thing he had ever seen. He joined his mother in shouting encouragement to the enraged man who worked like a dog.
Ma moved to the couch where Jane sat. Her voice carried no tone of anger now. "Tell me, Lady Jane," she cackled, "ain't that the damndest thing you ever seen?"
In spite of herself, Jane had become carried away by the pure animal drive of the man who clung to the fighting woman, his arms wrapped tightly around her belly, his body pumping with the powerful strokes of a piston. After a while, Grace stopped fighting. She stood bent, panting, her pendulous breasts swaying with the motion. Coarse, happy sounds broke from her throat.
Jane felt hard, rough hands moving over her thighs, felt her panties being slipped down, the eager hands became even more intimate. She permitted herself to be pushed down without a fight. The hands moved away now. First, she heard the eager breathing, then she felt it on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. She felt the face press against her, seeking, hungry. She surrendered. She saw George standing beside the couch dropping his trousers. She knew he was waiting his turn. It didn't bother her at all. She just wanted the woman to work a little faster. Her fingers tangled in the woman's hair, drawing her even closer to her warm body. She felt the heavy breasts press and squirm against her belly. She was beginning to accept her captivity. Across the room, she saw Don pull slowly, reluctantly away from the woman who remained bent over in continuing anticipation. A moment later it was forgotten as she rose to a delightful peak of arousal, held for a moment, then crashed into an abyss of fulfillment.
CHAPTER FOUR
"Now look George, this may be a lot of fun, but we gotta make some money out of it too." His mother spoke with the serious deliberation of a board chairman. This guy has lots of dough, we gotta get some. We gotta send him a letter telling him to pay if he wants to get his daughter back."
"Sure, Ma," George replied, "that's the way we planned it, ain't it?"
It was early morning. The others still slept off the effects of the previous night's orgy. Jane was tied to the couch, still naked. She continued to sleep, oblivious to the conversation at the table.
Together, they worked out the wording of the note. George pushed the pencil laboriously, getting the words down in a childish print. He wasn't too sure of the spelling, but that didn't concern him. Finished, he picked up the paper, and read the note aloud.
DEAR MR. LOWEL. WE HAVE YOUR GIRL JANE. SHE IS STILL HELTHY. IF YOU WANT HER TO STAY LIKE THAT GET FIFTY THOUSAND BUCKS CASH AND BE REDDY FOR US TO COLECT IT. don't GO TO THE COPS OR ELSE. IF YOU CALL COPS WE WONT JUST KILL HER WE WILL HAVE LOTS OF FUN WITH HER FIRST AND SEND YOU THE PEECES.
THE KIDNAPERS
"That's a real good note, Georgie," the woman's voice showed a motherly pride. "Now we gotta get it to him fast."
"I'll go to town and mail it right now." George felt the excitement of the situation as he spoke. He felt they had graduated to the big time. In the past, they had limited their activities to simple things like break and enter and rolling drunks.
"Mail ain't fast enough," the old woman's words brought him down off his cloud of self-satisfaction.
"Jeez, Ma, what do you want me to do? Walk up to the door and hand him the letter?"
"Don't back talk me, boy. That house is set way back from the road and there's lots of trees in front of it. You just drive up to the mail box by the road and stick the note in it then you drive off."
"Yeah, but what if there's somebody around?"
"When you get close to the place, you drive slow and take a damn good look. If there's somebody around, you just drive right by. If there ain't, you drop the note and then take off."
George wasn't too keen on his mother's idea, but he saw it would do no good to argue with her. Reluctantly, he agreed to do it her way. He pulled on his jacket, stuffed the note into the pocket and left the house.
Before getting into the car, he thought for a moment of how it would feel to drive the big car instead. That, he told himself, would be downright stupid. He kicked the old car to life and headed down the rutted driveway. His assignment still frightened him, if it came to a showdown, he would choose cops rather than Ma.
The door, closing behind George, woke Jane. She attempted to sit up, but fell back as her bound hands jerked her back to the pillow. Frustrated, she looked at the old woman.
"Come on, Ma," she asked sleepily, "how about untying the ropes. I'm not exactly dressed for traveling."
The old woman laughed as she walked to the couch. "Why Lady Jane, I declare you look good enough to eat for breakfast." Her rough hands fondled Jane's smooth, firm breasts. She sat on the edge of the couch looking greedily at the naked body. Her hands stroked down over slightly rising tummy, moved to the satin smooth thighs.
Jane felt the familiar urges begin to rise within her, she fought them back.
"Come on, Ma," she protested, "fun's fun, but how about some coffee first?"
Ma laughed again. "Well now, you sound like maybe you're goin' to be real friendly. I guess we could use some coffee first." She untied the ropes. Jane rubbed her wrists as she swung her legs over the side of the couch.
As the old woman went to the stove to pour two cups of coffee, Jane found her panties and slipped them on. Reaching for her bra, she changed her mind. What the hell, she thought. She threw it back on the couch and walked to the table.
Ma's happy mood continued as she looked at Jane, the white nylon panties clinging to the contours of her firm bottom. "Shucks, Lady Jane, that was an awful waste of time."
"What was?"
"Putting on them pants. I ain't goin' to leave them on long enough to make it worth it. After this coffee, I'm goin' to take them down and have me some real nice young breakfast." She ran her hand over the rear surface of the nylon as she pushed her chair to the table.
Jane was annoyed that this rough looking old woman could arouse her this way, but she was powerless to resist. She saw the old woman drinking her coffee hurriedly and decided that if she wanted to finish hers, she too should hurry it. Just as she raised the cup again, Don shuffled out of the bedroom.
Stark naked, he made it very obvious that he was ready to greet the new day sexually.
"Just look at that boy," Ma Cackled, "ain't he just the best hung man you ever saw?"
Looking at him, seeing the strength of his manhood, primitive though it was. She remembered how he had looked attacking Grace with brute force. Her memory flashed her a picture of Grace, bent under Ma's arm, her chubby buttocks red from the spanking, twisting and fighting under the animal approach of the big man. Her pulses were really hammering now.
"Yes, Ma, he sure is one hell of a big man."
Don smiled, glowing under the words of praise. Employing muscular control, he caused his point of pride to wave to both women. "Ain't he just the darnest one?" Ma crowed. "He's a real card, that boy. Just look at that."
"Yeah," the voice came from the bedroom door where Grace stood wearing just her panties, "ain't it too bad his brain ain't as big."
"Now Grace," Ma shrilled, "you cut that out or I'll take the stick to you."
"Yeah, Ma," Don was excited, "spank 'er again. Make 'er big bum all nice and red, Ma."
"Not right now, Donnie boy, I got me some work to do. Some real nice work." As she spoke, she sat on the edge of the couch and drew Jane toward her, one hand pressing with surprising gentleness against the back of her thigh.
Jane showed no sign of resistance. She wasn't as ready for it now as she had been earlier, but she knew it was pointless to resist. The alternative would have been a trip across the woman's lap punctuated by the slapping sound of the hard hand against the tender mounds of her bottom. She let herself be drawn to the woman, feeling the guiding hand move from the thigh, up over the nylon sheathed buttocks. As she drew closer, she felt two hands stroking the smooth surface. She felt her buttocks being caressed, felt fingers probing without harshness, without roughness. She began to fall into the mood of the moment.
Her bottom and thighs began to sway in an easy, rhythmic motion. She couldn't have stopped it if she hard tried. She didn't try. When she felt Don approaching her, hard and urgent, she felt the woman push him away.
"Just wait and watch a little while, Donny boy," the woman rebuffed him pleasantly. "Mebbe you can have some too, after a while."
Whimpering his frustration, he backed off but stood watching, wanting to touch. She felt his hand move quickly across her thighs as he moved obediently away.
But Ma was becoming anxious now. "I told you it was a waste of time putting them pants on, honey." Her hands moved inside them, sliding them down her thighs. "Oh what a lovely little hinie you got baby." Her voice was quiet, but made husky with her rapidly exploding passion.
Jane felt the nylon fall to her feet. She raised one leg after the other and stepped out of them. Hearing a scurrying sound behind her, she turned to see Don retrieving the warm nylon garment. She saw him step into them and draw them up urgently over his firm, squirming body. His obvious arousal presented a ludicrous sight as the transparent panties failed to hide his condition. His hands rubbed the smooth surface, his eyes rolled excitedly. He had found a temporary substitute for the young woman he coveted. The panties were warm and smooth, just like her, he thought. His hand continued to stroke, to caress.
Naked now, Jane felt herself being pulled down to the couch. She fell across the woman's lap and felt herself pushed gently into a lying position. Hands probed her firm, silken thighs, moved them gently apart. She offered complete cooperation, opened them wide to make room for the hungry invader of her secret regions.
She felt the weather tanned cheeks make contact with the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, felt hands clutch the white globes of her buttocks, felt her body raised to meet the charge, raised her body herself to meet the invasion.
There was a nerve tearing moment when the first contact was made, then an easy building of passion as the face pressed, kissed, sought. She felt the darting tongue and again was surprised at the smooth efficiency of the course looking woman.
She opened her eyes in time to see Grace breathing unevenly as she stripped off her panties and sat on the edge of the couch. Jane watched as she beckoned to Don who hurried to her. Her legs were parted wide, her hands pushed the man into a kneeling position before her. Satisfied with his position and convinced that he knew what she wanted, Grace fell back on the couch, her thighs spread wide, her full hips rising from the couch, the seat of her hunger opened in invitation to the unsure looking man in the nylon panties. Just before Jane closed her eyes again, she saw that Don had made contact with Grace. She heard the hungry, greedy sounds, heard Grace's insistent moaning, urging.
But she had to close her eyes then, the roller coaster of passion was climbing now. She felt herself float through the soft, fluffy clouds, felt the climb continue, clenched her fists as she soared to the peak which she knew could not be sustained.
And it was not sustained. A new fire built between her thighs where an insistent outside force persisted, Jane felt it grow to intolerable proportions, felt the fires explode into her belly and legs, felt herself rise from the couch, seem to hang suspended in mid air, then fall back.
But still, the older woman was not content. Still, her hands fondled, stroked, cupped. Jane's state of absolute lassitude melted as the greedy, seeking hands continued to find smooth mounds and slopes and hollows. She felt a gradual reawakening of desire. At the foot of the couch, she saw Don still glued to the rocking, writhing body of Grace.
Still watching, still feeling the hands on her, Jane saw Grace roll away from the kneeling figure before her, felt the weight as the woman rolled onto her nude form. For just a moment, Jane tensed as new hands parted her still tingling thighs, then she relaxed into submission, into surrender.
While Grace barely moved below, the older woman was whispering in her ear. "You'll be good to Don now, won't you?"
"I don't know," Jane gasped. "I don't know. I'm ... I'm still afraid of him."
"Let him do it, honey. Make him feel real good." The rough hands were less rough as they massaged the pink tipped globes of milky white breasts.
Jane felt herself rising again to the heights of passion. Felt the face press hungrily against her, felt the explosion again and once more fell back on the couch.
She felt Grace begin to move away from her, but fires still raged within. Jane knew at that moment that the hunger within her heaving belly was greater than her revulsion for the creature who stood beside the couch fondling the nylon panties he still wore.
The old woman stood beside him and guided him eagerly toward the bed where Jane lay naked, sprawled, waiting. As he reached the edge of the couch, he hunched suddenly, his shoulders jerked convulsively, his hands clutched tightly at the front of the panties.
"I can't now, Ma," the words were a cry of pain as they burst from his lips. "I can't."
Still hunched, he ran from the room holding the front of the panties and crying a cry of bitterness and frustration. Jane didn't really care that much now, she was tired, very tired. She wanted to go back to sleep.
* * *
At that very moment, George Travers was having his problems too, but he was not tired. He had driven slowly past the Lowell place and found it quiet. Making a turn a quarter mile beyond the house, he prepared to return for the note drop.
It was at that moment that the conflict really hit him. It would be easy enough to make the drop and move away unseen, but that wasn't what was bothering him right now.
Although something less than a thinker, George was painfully figuring out the chain of events that would follow delivery of the note. When Mr. Lowell received that note, it would be the beginning of the end of the kidnapping.
Even if he didn't call the police in, even if he met their demands quietly and without fuss, it would still be a very bad thing. Once they got the money, they would have to take the next logical step. The next step, in this case, involved the disposition of their hostage. They couldn't keep her there forever, and yet, they couldn't just let her go either. She could easily find their house, she could identify every one of them to the police. The minute they released her, they would be turning themselves right over to the law on a kidnapping charge.
No, she couldn't be released. There was only one thing to do and he knew Ma would insist on it. Jane Lowell would have to die and be buried somewhere on the old farm.
He could imagine the execution scene. It would he a dark night, he and Ma would take the beautiful girl out to the barn. She would probably be naked and very scared. She would sense what was going to happen to her. She would plead and beg, she would cry and make a big fuss, but Ma would insist on going through with it.
If he became too nervous himself, Ma would take the hunting rifle from him and do the job herself. He would hear the loud explosion of the shot in the quiet confinement of the barn; he would see the ugly effect of the bullet in that lovely white skin; he would watch as the beautiful, warm body crumpled to the dirty floor dead. He would have to dig a deep hole under the barn, carry the cold, lifeless body and drop it in. He could almost see the first few shovels of dirt as they fell on the white body at the bottom of the hole.
The alternative, as he saw it, was not to deliver the note. The Lowells would be worried about their missing daughter, but they might think she had run away or had an accident somewhere, or something. The police might even be called in to look for her, but it wouldn't be the same as if they knew she had been kidnapped, there wouldn't be the same relentless combing of the countryside. In time, they would give up, and when they did, Jane would still be a permanent boarder in the Travers household.
He pictured again the naked body of the young woman, thought of the warm, silkiness of her body, saw her engaged in that wild, nude game with Grace, saw himself replacing Grace and fitting his body to her nude form, he felt the soft swells and curves of her under his own naked body.
It wouldn't take long to make her accept Don from time to time and when she did that, Ma would agree to keep her as a playmate for the brother.
The thought of Ma's anger replaced the nude form of Jane Lowell in his mind then. It was a frightening thought. How could he face the wrath of the old woman?
His resolve began to fade. He started the car and began the return trip past the Lowell house. Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, he felt the note. The big stone gates of the Lowell mansion were just ahead. He began to slow the car.
He had cut his speed to about ten miles an hour when he spotted the man walking toward the gate. There was one brief moment of panic, then a sensation of great relief as he stepped on the gas and pulled away from the gates. By the time he reached the turnoff, the needle was pointing just over sixty.
He was heading back for the farm now. He hoped Jane would be wearing her bra and panties, he would like to take them off for her, very slowly. He would kiss her all over and linger in that special, warm place as Grace had done yesterday. She would like that and later, when he was tired of kissing, she would be really ready to take him. He could go real slow, make her holler with wild enjoyment.
After that, he would try to reason with Ma. He would try to convince her that they should forget about the ransom and just keep Jane as a plaything-a beautifully formed, warm, loving little plaything. He didn't know if he could convince the old woman, but he was sure going to try.
H.J. was determined to find some way of keeping Jane Lowell at the farm and alive on the couch, not dead under the floor of the barn.
CHAPTER FIVE
Ma was standing in the doorway waiting as he steered the car through the rutted driveway and pulled up in front of the house. She was stark naked, but that didn't bother him anymore than it seemed to bother her. He wondered disinterestedly whether she had been looking after Don again.
"Did you deliver the note?" Her greeting was delivered in such a tone that in a flash he regretted not having been successful. He realized that he would never be able to talk her into the idea of giving up the ransom.
"I couldn't, Ma. There was some guy walking around the front of the yard like he was lookin' for somethin'."
The old woman said nothing for a moment, but it was obvious that she was not very happy. She stepped aside at the last moment when it appeared that George would walk right over her if she didn't move.
"Well," she scolded as he walked into the kitchen, "what are we goin' to do now?"
"I don't know what you're going to do," he looked at the nude form of the sleeping girl, "but I got me some real nice plans." He wished she had been wearing the bra and panties, he wanted her that way. He looked at the full, pink tipped breasts rising and falling with her regular breathing and felt less regret about the lack of lingerie.
"Ain't she been awake yet?" He asked no one in particular.
"Oh she's been awake all right," Grace giggled in reply, "ain't she Ma?"
"Yeah," the old woman smiled a reply, "she's been awake real good like." She drew her hand over her mouth.
George felt anger rise within him almost as strong as his sexual desire which had been building all through the drive back. "Oh sure," he snapped, "you two have all the fun and I do all the work around here. I suppose," he added bitterly, "your little pet, Don, got his too."
The laughter of the two women took him by surprise. Grace had difficulty talking as the laughter wouldn't stay back, but she did manage it eventually.
"Well now George, it was like this. We had the little chick here all ready for poor Donny boy, she was waving wide open for him. He was standing there wearing her little panties and getting all built up for her, but just before he got there, he got built up too high for his own good."
For a moment, George stood uncomprehending. When the humor of the situation struck him, he broke down and joined in the general laughter. The noise disturbed the sleeping woman. She woke and sat up slowly.
"Now come on, George boy, we got some talkin' to do," the old woman commanded.
"Just sit tight, Ma. We'll talk all right, but there ain't no great hurry." George wanted time to go over his plan in his mind. He wanted to be completely ready to fight the old woman for what he wanted. Picking up one of the used coffee mugs from the table, he walked to the stove and poured some for himself.
He looked at Jane and realized that with the battle with the old woman still hanging over his head, he had lost the urge. He knew though, that it would not be a difficult urge to recapture.
Carrying his coffee, George walked to the door. "Come on, Ma, let's go out to the barn and talk about this. You stay here Grace and keep an eye on her and on Don too."
Still naked, the old woman walked toward the door to join him.
"Fer Chrissake, Ma," George's voice registered exasperation, "ain't you ever goin' to learn to put clothes on when you go out?"
"We're only goin' to the barn, ain't we? You think that old horse out there is gonna jump me or somethin'?"
"Hell no Ma, that old horse is fussy about what he jumps."
George saw her right arm swing back, but before she could throw the punch, he ran laughing toward the barn. Shrugging her shoulders, she followed him. By the time she got to the barn, the anger was gone.
George was sitting on an overturned box. He had traded the cup of coffee for a bottle of home brew. He had just downed a big swig and was wiping his mouth when she walked into the dark, foul smelling place. She took the bottle he offered and poured three big gulps of the rough fluid down her throat without a change of expression.
"Now look, George, we got to figure out a way to get at that dough."
"I been doin' a lot of thinkin' about that, Ma. The way I see it, we forget about the dough."
"What! Are you out of your head?"
"No, Ma, I ain't I figger we'd be out of our head to go messin' around there now. That place is likely runnin' over with cops. We show up around there and we all end up gettin' charged with kidnapping. I don't want no part of that."
"Then what the hell did we grab the girl for?"
"We grabbed her to get our hands on some big dough," George replied in an almost philosophical tone, "but now we see we can't do it that way, so we change our plans."
"You mean we just kill 'er and forget all about the dough?" The woman's words had a chilling effect on him. George was not normally squeamish, but the easy manner in which she referred to killing the young woman jolted him.
"What the hell do you want to kill her for?"
"Oh ain't you the smart one now, Georgie boy. Maybe you figger we should just put her in her car, pat her on the ass and say bye-bye. Boy, sometimes I think Don ain't the dumb one at all."
"So what's wrong with things like they are right now? We just keep her here like she is," George argued, "have all the fun we want, and we don't have to worry about no cops prowling around lookin' for her. If her old man don't get no ransom note, he just thinks she ran away or somethin'."
"We ain't keepin' her around here just for playin' with," the old woman was adamant. "We won't do nothin' now while I think about it and figger what to do, but we ain't just keepin' her. One of these days she's gonna bust loose anyway and then there'll be hell to pay and we still won't make a damn nickle."
"Look Ma, we ain't gonna kill her and that's that."
"You look, boy. I'm the one who says what we're gonna do and don't you forget it." Standing abruptly, she turned and flopped out of the barn.
As he sat, nursing the bottle, George's anger began to dissipate. After all, he reasoned, Jane was safe for a while anyway and he was getting back into that good mood again. Just a couple more pulls on the bottle of white heat and he was going back into the house to see that pretty little thing. This time he was going to have the fun and the others could watch.
Walking back to the house, his mind returned to Ma's determination to kill the girl. He wondered what he would do when the showdown came. He considered killing the old woman instead. The thought scared him some, but he didn't reject it completely.
Almost to the house, he stopped and turned toward the well. Dipping out a bucket of water, he walked back to the barn with it. Inside the barn again, he stripped naked, took another big gulp from the bottle of home brew and poured the bucket of water over himself.
He shivered as the icy cold water flowed down his body, but he felt cleaner. He was ready to do his courting, city-style. It had been a long time since he had indulged in so elaborate a bath and he felt very proud and debonair. George wondered what he could use to dry himself, shrugged, picked up his clothes and walked back to the house naked and dripping.
Inside, he reached for the dark gray towel hanging behind the kitchen door and began to dry himself.
"Well don't tell me," Grace's tone dripped with sarcasm, "this city slicker went and had a bath." Grace was entitled to her moment of sarcasm. After all, she was much more fastidious about these things, she took a bath every week or so whether she needed it or not. It stung her that her husband was obviously doing it for the benefit of another woman. He ignored her as he towelled himself semi dry with the already soggy, dirty towel.
Jane watched too and accepted his rustic attempt at charm as a tribute. She saw the hatred in Grace's eyes and decided to see how far she could push her. It was a dangerous game, she knew, but she couldn't have resisted it if she had tried. She didn't try.
When George came over and sat beside her on the couch, she made no move to resist as he put his arm around her naked waist. She watched him come to life, watched his desire grow. Georgie boy, she thought, you are in for one very pleasant surprise. Her hand stole around and clutched him in a firm yet gentle caress. She felt the strength surge. She moved her hand slowly back and forth thrilling at his response.
Cupping a full breast with her other hand, she held it up to him. His face moved down to meet it, his mouth closed over it. She felt his tongue flog the nipple which grew to meet the attack. Remembering what had happened to Don earlier, she moved her hand and used it to trace exciting trails of arousal all over his hard, muscular body.
Placing one hand behind his head, she began to fall back onto the couch. As she dropped down onto her back, she drew his head downward to follow her. His lips had moved from the swelling breast to her silken belly, she continued to draw him to her. She knew that he could see her thighs parting slowly, invitingly. Her hand continued to press, his face continued to follow the gentle urging.
The house was absolutely silent. Only the sound of her light gasp was heard when George had pressed as close against her as possible. He learned quickly, her body began to writhe in passion. As she climbed to the peak, her thighs pressed against him in a silken encirclement. His rough whiskers tore at the sensitive skin and hurt her, but it was a good hurt, a delicious hurt. Her arms fell to the couch, her eyes closed tightly, she screamed a small scream of passion.
And then he was on her. No longer was he the gentle, tender lover. She felt the blinding pain of forced, aimless entry, felt her body filled with him without warning, felt the rough weight of him on her body, crushing her, thrilling her. He had become a wild, plunging animal and she loved every animalistic motion, every bruise, every breathtaking, crushing slam of his weight.
With an animal grunt, he seemed to crush her into the bumpy couch, his muscles stiffened, then he collapsed atop her and remained motionless. Only his deep, irregular breathing told her he was still alive. She had never known anything quite like it.
When Jane awoke later, she found herself tied to the couch again. Except for Grace, she was alone in the room. She wondered where the others were and regretted her foolish game of angering George's wife. She wondered whether the time had come to pay for her brief moment of triumph. How, she wondered, would the price be exacted? Would the others come back in time to save her? Would they bother?
"So the slut finally woke up, did she?" Grace stood above her as she spat out the words.
Jane decided not to answer. Perhaps, she reasoned, if I say nothing, she'll get tired after a while. Everything exploded into a series of bright, flashing lights as the palm slapped across her cheek.
"Do you think you're too good to talk to me, you bitch? Answer me when I say something."
"What do you want, Grace?"
"Oh, so she can talk? Ain't that nice now. I don't really want anything, honey, not like you."
"What do you mean, not like me? What do I want?"
"What you want, honey, is to live. But I know something about that. Something you don't know yet. I been talking to Ma about it."
"What do you mean, Grace?" Jane felt the cold sweat of terror break out over her body. There was no doubt that Grace was telling the truth. It was obvious that this was no bluff, the woman was enjoying it too much to be saying it just for scare value.
"But they wouldn't dare do that." Jane forced the words out. "They want the ransom for me and they can't get that if I'm dead. It would be stupid to kill me."
"Forget about ransom, honey," Grace's voice dripped poisonous hatred, "there ain't gonna be no ransom. George went to your place with the note this morning but he found cops all over the place so he chickened out. They're gonna forget about ransom, so there's no reason to keep you alive."
"But my dad will pay. He's got lots of money. He'll pay, I swear he will."
"He ain't gonna pay for you honey, because he ain't gonna know you been kidnapped."
"But that's crazy, Grace. Look at all the money you could get. Why kill me?"
"I don't want the money, you snotty little bitch. I'll get more fun watching you die. I want to hear you scream a lot while it's happening."
"No!" The one word exploded from Jane's lungs like a blast of cold air. "That's crazy. They won't do it. You're lying to me to frighten me."
"I ain't lying, honey. George is supposed to take you out in the barn and shoot you, then bury you under the floor. He's too chicken to do it though, so Ma's gonna do it herself. At least that's what she plans. I got other ideas though. It don't matter to Ma who does it, so if I promise to be real good to her precious Don, she'll let me do it. Do you wanna hear how I'll do it?"
Jane didn't answer because she couldn't. She could not push even one word through her constrained throat.
"I'll describe it to you honey," Grace went on. "You see, I'm gonna get them to tie you down on the barn floor with your arms and legs stretched out. We got a nice sharp hunting knife here and I'll have it with me. I'll cut you up a whole lot with it first. Just little cuts. Then when I had enough fun, I'm gonna push it real slow right in there." To demonstrate her intentions, she patted Jane lightly on the belly. "After that, I'll find lots of other places." By way of explanation, she clutched one of Jane's breasts after the other. She squeezed hard and watched the young woman squirm.
Don walked into the room then, still wearing the nylon panties, obviously excited again. He looked first at Grace, then at Jane. He smiled stupidly.
Without a word, Grace bent and slipped her panties down. Slowly, she stepped out of them and stood naked. "You better be awful nice to me Jane or we take our little trip to the barn right now. Don here will help me, won't you Don?"
"Yeah, Grace, sure," he answered eagerly.
Grace stroked his panties lightly. "You just be a good boy and watch for a little while Don, then I'm gonna give you a real nice treat. Would you like to do it your special way, Don?"
"Yeah! Yeah!" He enthused.
"Then you just wait till I get ready, then we'll have some real nice fun."
Moving slowly, carefully, she clambered onto the couch. She crawled until she knelt astride Jane, her body directly over her face, inches away. Slowly, she lowered her body. Jane felt the plump, slightly soft flesh settle on her. She closed both her eyes and her mouth tightly. She attempted to twist her face away, but found it trapped between the soft thighs.
"You're pretty stupid, Lady Jane," she hissed. "I'm the boss now, I'm gonna kill you when I'm ready. You better be nice to me. You better do what I say."
Jane felt the soft, hot body twisting against her face. She fought for breath. She gasped for air as Grace lifted away a little. She felt the woman turn quickly. Again she saw herself straddled, this time, the plump buttocks were directly above her. She closed her eyes as she saw them lowered toward her, felt the suffocating pressure as they covered her completely, pressed, squirmed. She fought for air, but found none. Her lungs threatened to burst. Welcome air flooded into her lungs as the pressure was removed a little but remained inches above her.
"I'm almost ready, Don," Jane heard her say, "take your panties off and stand here at the head of the couch. I got one more little treat for Lady Jane here, then you and me are gonna have some fun."
Eagerly, the man clambered out of the panties. He looked immensely ready.
Jane looked up to see the fat curves just inches above her face. Shocked, she saw it and closed her eyes just as the hot stream hit her face. On and on the vile bath continued, but there was no escape for her. Finally, it ended. She heard voices, felt rough movements of the couch. When she finally looked up, she saw that Grace was still crouched over her but saw that she was bent sharply with her hands resting on the couch.
Don too was kneeling over her now, facing the woman above. He moved close to the arched buttocks. His hands fumbled with them, pried the heavy cheeks apart, he pushed forward in a rough probing, jabbing motion. Satisfied, he lunged and she saw his maleness disappear. She heard Grace scream at the initial pain of the abnormal assault. She was trapped, she could do nothing but watch in horrified fascination as the perverted act took place inches above her. In a little while, they both tumbled onto her and rolled off the couch. Jane felt very ill.
CHAPTER SIX
When George and Ma came into the house much later, Jane was still tied to the couch, but she was wide awake. Sleep was impossible. She doubted that she would ever sleep again.
"Will somebody get me off this stinking couch?" Jane's near hysterical voice greeted them. The terror in her voice impressed them both. They hurried toward her.
"Jeez," George snorted, "I see what you mean about stinkin'."
"Fer chrissake," Ma joined the protest, "wouldn't she even let you get up to go do that?"
"I didn't do it." Jane's tone was a mixture of despair and indignation.
"Well if you didn't," George replied in confusion, "who the hell...."
"Grade did, Gracie did." Don's voice came excitedly from the bedroom doorway. "Boy, you shoulda saw 'er. She did it all over 'er then she let me do it the special way."
George turned pale with rage, but before he could move, Ma was plunging into the bedroom. When she returned to the kitchen, she was dragging a sleepy, frightened, naked Grace behind her. George was busily untying the ropes which bound Jane to the couch.
Ma rocked Grace's head from side to side with a series of full armed slaps. Grace fell to the floor and huddled there with her arms wrapped around her head in an attempt at protection from the enraged assault.
"George," the woman snapped, "throw that mattress outside for a while to air out." Holding it at arm's length, he walked to the door and threw it out.
"Come here with me," the old woman's voice was almost gentle as she led the sobbing Jane to her room. She sat on the bed and drew the girl down beside her. "Now tell me everything that happened," she coaxed gently.
Jane ignored the shameful defilement of her person as she concentrated on the statements Grace had made about her murder. Her body shook with her sobs, many of her words were unintelligible as she attempted to pour out the story, hoping to hear it denied in a manner that would be believable.
Ma offered her own brand of solace and comfort, but the hoped for denial was not forthcoming.
"Ma," Jane asked in a plaintive voice, "are you really going to kill me?"
"You just hush now child. You had a real hard day. We won't talk about nothin' like that right now."
"But can't you understand, Ma, I can't just hush. How can I be quiet when I believe you are going to kill me? My God, Ma, can't you understand? Grace said you are planning to kill me. She said you are going to let her do it."
"Now you hush that silly talk child, of course I ain't gonna let Grace do it."
Jane felt the blood drain from her face. The words were confirmation of her most frightening fears. "You won't let Grace do it?" She repeated. "Then that means you do intend to kill me. Someone else will do it. You or George, but one of you is going to kill me." Her body shuddered, she collapsed against the woman who wrapped her arms around her protectively.
"There, there now child," the old woman cooed like a mother crooning a lullaby to a crying child, "you just don't think about it now."
For a few minutes, Jane's body continued to shudder as she cried, after a while, she found her voice again and was able to speak.
"But Ma, just think of what you're saying. You're saying you are going to kill me, then you tell me to hush and not think about it. Can't you understand what you are saying? Can't you understand that I don't want to die? My God, Ma, I'm young, I'm rich, I have everything to live for. Please don't kill me. Please."
She subsided into tears and shudders again and felt the old woman rocking her against her ample breasts.
"Jane girl, when you first came here, you were just a snooty rich kid and I hated you. You wouldn't do nothin' for poor Don, you talked snippity, we was just goin' to keep you 'till we got the ransom dough from your old man, then we was goin' to kill you."
Jane listened in a state of stupor as the woman talked so casually of their plans to kill her.
"Then," Ma went on, "you turned out to be a real nice kid. We had some good fun together, but now I don't know what to do. We can't just let you go. As soon as you got out of here you'd run to the cops and we'd all rot in jail. We got problems too, Janie, we just can't take that kind of chance."
"But Ma, I don't want to die. I'm scared, Ma. I'm still young. I have my whole life ahead of me. Please don't kill me Ma, please. Dad will really pay the ransom, I'll make sure he does. I promise you he will."
With death staring her in the face as an incentive, Jane pleaded with a convincing sincerity. "Please let's talk about it Ma. I can show you how it would be better not to kill me."
"It wouldn't have been that bad, Jane. You wouldn't of known nothin' about it. One night when you were asleep, you just wouldn't of woke up again. You wouldn't of felt nothin'." The old woman spoke as if death would have been something simple and humane and almost pleasant.
"Look Ma," Jane pleaded earnestly, "when you kidnapped me, there were two things you wanted. You wanted money and a woman for Don. You can still have both of them. I promise you it can be worked out and I'll never talk to the police or try to hurt you in any way."
"Sure Jane, sure," the woman cooed as she would talk to a baby who asked for the moon, "you just don't think of it no more." Everything's goin' to be all right, don't you worry none."
As Jane tried to get through to the woman, they were disturbed by the slamming of the back door and sounds of screamed pleas coming from the back yard. Through the dirty window, they saw George leading a naked Grace toward the barn. It was obvious from his manner that Grace was in for nothing pleasant.
As they reached the barn, George pushed his wife inside so roughly that she lost her balance and sprawled to the dirty floor. She sat there sobbing as he closed and barred the big, double doors. Through her tear filled eyes, Grace saw the big, black limousine and wished fervently that she had never seen it, wished that it had never arrived at the farm. But she knew that it was too late for wishes now.
George walked to the side of an empty stall and picked up a length or rope. He walked back to the woman, tied her hands together, lifted her to her feet and walked a few feet dragging her unwillingly, protestingly, behind him. Looking up, he tossed the remainder of the rope over a beam and watched it fall to the floor on the other side. He moved easily now, without haste, without anger, his motions were those of a man with a job to do. It was just as easy as that. For Grace, it was not that easy. Her husband's carefully controlled anger told her that her terror was justified.
Picking up the lose end of the rope, George pulled it tight. Grace felt herself being dragged to her feet. Still the rope pulled at her arms. They were raised above her head, but the rope still dragged with a cruel upward motion as her husband pulled at the other end as if he were raising a bag of grain into the loft. For all the expression on his face, he could have been doing just that. When her feet had been raised just clear of the floor, he stopped tugging at the rope and tied it carefully around a protruding spike in the wooden post. Satisfied that it was tied tightly enough, he walked toward the back wall.
When he stretched to reach for the old buggy whip which hung on the back wall, she screamed a clear, sharp scream of terror. He understood her scream. In his childhood, one of the many fathers he had known had used the buggy whip on him. He remembered how the narrow leather bit into the skin, remembered how he had screamed, remembered how long the welts had lasted. It seemed exactly appropriate to the occasion.
Holding the hard leather handle in his hand, George walked back to where his naked wife hung suspended at the end of the taut rope. Her writhings had caused the rope to twist and untwist so that she turned helplessly at the end of it trying to touch the floor with her stretched toes to stop the wild merry-go-round, but unable to do so.
"Grace," he spoke evenly, "there ain't no excuse for what you done. Maybe that girl gotta die, but you didn't have to tell her. Right now, you're gonna pay for that. You ain't never gonna do nothin' like that again."
He brought his right arm back behind him, snapped it ahead with a flick of the wrist and the cruel, black leather snapped. It wrapped around her plump, naked body so that the end of the thong flicked around her buttocks. Her scream filled the barn. Patiently, he waited for the whip to uncoil. When it fell away, he brought it behind him again, snapped his wrist again and saw it curl once more around her nude, spinning body. Again, her scream rang out, but again it fell on deaf ears.
George didn't know whether it was the tenth stroke or the twentieth, he wasn't counting. He saw the cruel red welts on her thighs, buttocks, back, belly. Somehow, it seemed like enough, so he stopped swinging, walked to the back of the barn, replaced the whip and returned to the slowly spinning form of his wife.
With amazing deliberation, he untied the rope, lowered her so that she fell to the floor, tossed the rope back over the beam, untied her hands and walked lifelessly out of the barn. As he opened the door of the house, he could still hear her cries.
Instead of being moved by them, he thought of the beautiful young woman in the house who had been told she was going to die. He knew it wasn't right that she should be put to death, but he didn't know what he could do to stop it. He felt genuine regret that life must be snuffed out of that lovely body.
Only Don was in the kitchen. He still wore the nylon panties. George found it infuriating. "Get those damn things off or get the hell out of here," he barked.
Like a scolded puppy, Don scuttled back to his room. George wondered what Ma and Jane were doing. He hoped she hadn't killed her yet. As long as the girl was alive, there was still a chance of saving her somehow.
Jane was very much alive. She had been talking to the older woman for a long time, she had been trying to convince her that she was not trying trickery to save her life, trying to convince the woman that she was sincere in what she was offering.
"Please try to understand me Ma, I don't want to die, I'd give anything to be able to go on living. You've got to believe me. I can get you that fifty thousand, I can give Don everything he ever dreamed about and more. Ma, I'd be so grateful if you let me live and go back home that I'd never try to cheat on our bargain."
"You do sound convincing, Jane," the woman replied nervously, "but you can't blame me for not believing it. The minute we let you go, there's nothin' to stop you from callin' the cops and havin' us all arrested."
Jane was about to reply when she heard the door open and close, heard George talking roughly to Don. "Call him in here, Ma. Let him listen too."
The old woman called him. A minute later, he shuffled into the room. Jane went over the same ground she had covered with the old woman. George proved to be a more willing listener. She could tell he accepted her sincerity, she hoped he could convince his mother.
"My God, George," she emphasized, "just imagine Don looking at me in a full bridal outfit. I could take off the gown very slowly and leave the veil on. When I take off the slip, he'd see me in black bra and panties and nylons and the white veil still on. He could touch if he wanted to or just watch while I took them off very slowly, then he could go all the way. It would be the biggest thrill of his life."
"It sure sounds great to me, Jane," George replied, "but how do we know that once we turn you loose you won't just run to the cops?"
"But that's it, George, you don't turn me lose. Either you or Ma could be with me all the time. The rest of you could be outside in the car. If anything looks suspicious, you can take off and I would know that you were looking for me to kill me for breaking my part of the deal. It just can't go wrong George. Honestly, can't you understand that I'd do anything to go on living? Money doesn't mean anything to me. All that is important to me is my life. Please believe me."
If the old woman had been weakening a bit under Jane's convincing argument, George was anxious to believe her. He sensed, somehow, that the girl wasn't bluffing, that she meant her promise sincerely.
"Tell you what, Jane, let me and Ma talk about this for a while. I promise nothing'll happen to you tonight. Right Ma?" He looked toward his mother for approval.
"That's for sure, Jane. I mean it, honest. Me and George here will talk about it. Maybe we can work out somethin'. Meantime, don't you worry none about Grace. She won't get at you no more."
Jane realized that no additional argument was going to help her at this time. She sat back on the bed and nodded. George and his mother walked out of the room. She fell across the unmade bed and sobbed tears of exhaustion.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ma Travers was obviously nervous as she hurried into the phone booth behind Jane. The service station was closed, it was a quiet stretch of road, George sat in the car with the motor running, but still she was nervous.
"Look Jane," she hissed, "I still ain't sure we should be doin' this. If you say one word that ain't right, I'm going to drag you back to the car fast and you'll be dead before we get back to the farm."
"Please trust me, Ma. I swear I'll no nothing to hurt you or George or Don. You'll hear every word I say. I'm not going to try to trick you in any way. I swear it."
Nervously, Jane dug into her purse. She felt a restraining hand on her wrist and looked up to see Ma offering her a dime. As she took it from the woman's hand, it fell from her shaking fingers. Oh my God, Jane thought, I've got to be careful. I'm nervous enough, if I get her panicky, the whole deal is off and I'm dead. The booth was too crowded to permit bending to pick up the coin. She began to dig into her purse looking for another one. She heard the door slide open and held her breath. She wondered if her nervous fingers had cost her life itself. With a sigh of relief, she saw the old woman bend outside the booth and reach in to pick up the coin and hand it to her.
Carefully this time, she fitted the coin into the slot and dialled the number. She dialled carefully, she couldn't afford the distraction of a wrong number, not at this stage.
Before the first ring had been completed, she heard the break. The phone had been picked up. She hoped it would be her father on the other end.
"Hello." Jane's heart sank as she recognized Bunny's voice on the other end.
"Hello, Bunny, is Dad there?"
"Jane. Where in hell have you been? What do you mean by just running out like that without telling us anything about it?"
"Shut up Bunny and put Dad on." As soon as the words were out, Jane realized her mistake. If Bunny got mad enough, she would simply hang up the phone and she was dead. There was absolute silence on the other end. Jane listened, knowing that if she heard the buzzing tone of a dead line, it would be her death sentence.
Her father's anxious voice was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. "Jane," he rasped, "where in hell are you? What in hell are you doing?"
"Oh, Dad," she sighed into the mouthpiece, "it's so good to hear your voice."
"Then why in hell don't you get home and hear it?" he asked.
"Dad, listen, please. I know you'll help me and right now I need help."
"Of course I'll help you. You're my little girl, remember?" His voice reflected concern.
"Dad, I'm in trouble, big trouble. I've got to get fifty thousand dollars fast."
"Jesus, Jane, what's wrong? Tell me, baby. Tell me everything."
"I can't tell you Dad, not right now, but unless I get fifty thousand fast, I'm going to be dead tomorrow."
"Jane, have you been kidnapped? It that it?"
"Please Dad, don't ask questions. I can't say anything. Just promise you'll get fifty thousand for me."
"Jane," the man's voice registered a terror now that approached her own, "just tell me where you are and stay right there until I get to you."
"Dad, please try to understand. Someday, I'll try to tell you all about this, but for now, just listen to me. Unless you can promise to get fifty thousand tomorrow morning, I'll be dead. I'm not fooling Dad, I mean that."
She heard the fear in his breathing as he searched for something to say.
"Jane, I'll have it for you. Do you need it tonight?"
"No, Dad, tomorrow will do. I'll have someone call at the house to pick it up around noon. Will that do?"
"Yes, of course Jane. Before that if you like."
"Now listen, Dad, this is very important. I know you want to help me, so listen carefully and please do what I ask. Make sure the bills are not marked, please don't tell anyone a thing about this and above all, please don't let anyone follow the man who picks up the money. Do you understand?"
"Sure I do baby, but listen. I can call the chief of police at home tonight and arrange to have a quiet tail put on the guy who picks up the money."
"No, Dad, no! You mustn't! Please promise you won't do anything like that. Just give him the money and forget about it. I'll be grateful to you for the rest of my life Dad if you'll please do as I ask. Promise?"
"Okay, promise baby. I won't play any tricks at all. I'll have fifty thousand in cash ready before noon, I'll give it to the man who calls and I won't talk to anyone. Are you okay Jane? Is there something else I can do?"
"No, Dad, thanks. If you do that, I'll be home in a couple of days and everything will be fine. Thanks, Dad, I have to go now. Don't worry about me. If you do as you promised, there's nothing to worry about at all. Good-bye Dad."
"Good-bye baby. I'll worry a lot about you, but I'll do just as you asked."
She hung up the phone and turned to the nervous looking woman who stood beside her.
"It's all right Ma. He'll do just what I asked him to and there won't be any trouble at all."
Ma wanted to be nervous, knew she should be, but somehow, the eager, honest face of the girl in the booth with her convinced her that everything was being played straight. They walked back to the car together.
Jane was surprised that George showed so little concern. It was as if he trusted her. She couldn't explain it, but somehow, it seemed important to her that he trusted her. He was the man who had kidnapped her, and yet, she wanted to please him, wanted him to trust her. Boy, am I mixed up, she thought.
On the drive back to the farm, they talked about the plan to pick up the money. George became a little nervous at the thought of walking up to the door of the house to pick up the money, but Jane tried to reassure him.
"I'll tell you what, George. Before you get there, take the license plates off your car. While you're gone I'll go with Ma to any place you pick. She can take the rifle with her. If anything goes wrong with your call, she can kill me."
There was something about the sincerity with which she said it that put them at ease.
"Lady Jane," Ma spoke for them, "I got to hand it to you. You are a real lady. I really believe we can trust you."
"I suppose I should be mad at you Ma, for what you did to me," Jane's voice was surprisingly calm, "but I'm not really. All I think of is that you could have killed me. Instead of that, you trusted me. It's up to me now to show my thanks for that. I've kept the first part of our bargain; Dad will keep the second part tomorrow."
"I sure hope so, Janie," Ma replied with just a slight edge to the warmth of her tone, "I'd hate to see anything happen to George."
"Nothing will happen to him, Ma. George will walk away from the house tomorrow with fifty grand. There won't be anybody following him. I believe my Dad, I know he will do as I asked him to do."
"I'll try not to worry too much, Jane," the woman looked into her eyes as she answered, "I kind of think you're tellin' the truth."
"I am Ma, and one other thing. I promised you a real treat for Don. I suppose when George gets back with the money, I could ask you to let me go, but I won't. I promised you that Don would have the biggest day in his life and I'm going to keep that promise. What say we go shopping for a trousseau tomorrow afternoon?"
"Let's talk about that tomorrow, Jane girl. I kind of think I'd like to do that."
Jane reached for the gnarled old hand beside her and squeezed it warmly. "I know we will have fun Ma, and I know too that Don is going to have a real celebration. You're going to see a brand new Don after this is over."
"Janie girl, you're the damnest girl I ever knowed."
The three of them laughed as George steered the car over the dusty country road and turned into the rough driveway leading to the shabby old farmhouse.
As they pulled up in front of the house, Ma jumped hurriedly out of the car. George leaned over toward Jane and spoke in what was almost a whisper.
"Jane, will you lay down with me tonight if I chase the rest of them away?"
"Yes George, I'd like that."
"Now wait a minute, Jane. You wouldn't kid me, would you? I wouldn't want you to play no games with me like that."
"George, I knew all along you didn't want me killed. A few hours ago, I was trying to prepare myself to die. Now, it looks as though I am going to live. I'll go to bed with you tonight George and I'll make it real good and I won't be fooling about it."
His eyes told her that he believed even if he couldn't understand completely. They got out of the car and walked into the house.
Inside, they could hear a sound coming from George's bedroom. It was something like a sobbing and moaning combined. It was obvious that Grace had found her way back from the barn. It was equally obvious that she was still feeling the effects of her husband's less than tender ministrations.
CHAPTER EIGHT
That night, the couch mattress stayed out in the yard. Jane shared Ma's bed. For the first time, she wasn't tied. It was the old woman's way of telling her that she was trusted. Considering that just hours before she had been trying to prepare herself to accept death, Jane accepted this as a very pleasant bonus.
As she stretched out in the more comfortable, though not much cleaner bed, Jane felt the day's pressures catching up with her. For a while, she felt her muscles go tense, then as the calloused hands of the old woman stroked her, she felt tensions melt away. All she had to do was give an indication that she wanted more, and it would have been forthcoming. She didn't really though, so instead, the tough but motherly hands stroked her gently, soothingly, until Jane felt hereslf drifting into the gentle world of sleep. It was an easy trip because she was ready for it.
When she awoke in the morning, the hands were still close, still offering their peculiar comfort. She smiled an almost shy, scared good morning and received something similar as the woman got up to fumble around the kitchen in search of the coffee to get the day underway.
Except for Grace who remained sullen and Don who was not capable of understanding that things were different, the atmosphere of the room was tinged with an optomistic air. Ma, George and Jane all chose to believe that the day would bring something different and wonderful to all. There was an air of nervousness around the kitchen, but within it was contained a willingness to believe that things would work out somehow.
There was little conversation, but all eyes seemed to turn to the clock frequently. It was as if each participant in this strange drama wondered whether it could really go on as planned. To Jane, it meant the difference between freedom and death. She wouldn't really believe that they intended to go along with the plan until she was safely back in her own home. To Ma, it was the difference between fifty thousand dollars and prison. If the girl could really be trusted, she would be rich; if not, they would all end up in jail, even poor Don who would have nobody to love him or look after him.
The problem, the alternatives, meant something different to George. If the plan went ahead, he wouldn't have to kill this beautiful young woman, wouldn't have to bury her lovely white body under the foul floor of the barn. But at the same time, it meant that he would never see her again. He would return to the ample, somewhat flabby body of his wife, but that wouldn't be the same again, not after having tasted the firm, tender beauty of the hostage.
Jane, of course, was anxious to go ahead with it. George, although his heart was not in it, would also go along. Ma represented the only possible stumbling block. If she got scared at the last minute, if she decided that the fifty thousand was not worth the gamble, then the whole thing would be off. In that case, Jane would die. It was after ten o'clock now. If the plan was to be followed, George would leave in about an hour. Sixty minutes were all that remained to decide the future of these three people and others who depended on or cared about them.
They looked at each other, they drank coffee, they each wondered what the others were thinking. Don walked into the room naked and aroused, but he was almost totally ignored. Jane wondered whether she could improve her chances by doing him the big favor, but she dismissed the idea. Nervous as she was, she knew she couldn't do it. There was also the nagging thought that by appearing too friendly, she could arouse suspicions that could mean death. She ignored him and hoped she was doing right. There was still no sign of the buggy whipped Grace. Jane was thankful for that. She didn't want to see her again. That session on the couch yesterday had been more than enough.
The kitchen clock showed five minutes after eleven. George looked at Jane with a warm smile that told her he wanted to be a friend, told her she was trusted. She tried to smile in reply, tried to tell him with a look that she wouldn't let any harm come to him. She hoped he understood.
He got up and picked up his jacket from the back of a chair. Moving almost mechanically, he began to slip it on.
"Where you goin'?" The old woman's voice registered a note of alarm.
"I'm goin' to pick up fifty thousand bucks." The calm tone of his voice disguised his nervousness.
"You just wait a minute, you hear?" Ma's tone was plainly nervous. It was as if she were reconsidering.
Oh God, Jane thought, please don't let her change her mind now. Jane felt the irony of the situation. She hadn't prayed or recognized God since she was about ten years old. Now, with death staring her in the face, she called on God. I wonder, she thought, if I shall ever think of him again if I live through this?
Jane looked at the old woman. She saw that George was looking at her too. Jane sensed that he would help if he could, but she couldn't help wondering whether he really could. It was obvious that in the clutch, the old woman was still boss.
"What's the matter, Ma?" Jane heard herself ask.
"I don't rightly know what's the matter. There's just somethin' here don't seem right. We kidnapped you and you have the right to be real mad at us. Yet, you tell us you're goin' to help us get fifty thousand dollars and you ain't goin' to tell the cops nothin'. There's just somethin' not right about it all. I'm not sure I should let George here go after that money. Maybe money ain't all that important."
"Ma," Jane felt panic rising within her and tried to keep it from showing in her voice, "we made a deal. I promised that if you let me live, I would show my gratitude by gettin the money for you and not letting anything happen to you or your family. I meant that, Ma. I still do. You've got to trust me."
"No, Jane, I don't got to. Maybe I'm just bein' greedy. Maybe instead I should be safe. What would we do with all that money?"
"It isn't just the money, Ma," Jane reminded her. "There was another part to the deal too.
I meant that. It can be the most beautiful day in his life for Don."
Don had seemed to ignore the conversation to this point, but the mention of his name and the way in which Jane had said what she did seemed to bring him to life. He sensed, somehow, that something very important to him was at stake here.
"Hey Ma," his voice contained a note of urgency, "don't talk mean to Jane. I think she's real good. I like her."
Jane's warm smile was probably the most wonderful thing that had ever been bestowed on him. He glowed in its warmth.
"Thank you Don," Jane's voice was gentle, warm, "In just a day or two, I may have a chance to show you that I like you too. I'll be very good to you Don and we'll both enjoy it." Even as she spoke, Jane realized that she may be alienating the old woman, but she had to take the chance. She was so close now to getting away from here alive, that she couldn't let the chance slip away without a fight.
"Come on ma," George pleaded, "we made a deal, let's go through with it. I'm the one what gotta go pick up the money and I ain't afraid. Even Don here trusts her. Let's go ahead with it."
The woman looked from him to Don. She still felt the cold fingers of fear clutching her. As head of the household, the responsibility for this decision was hers.
"All right, George, go. But I'm sayin' this right now. If you ain't back here with the money and without no trouble, this here girl is gonna die."
It was all he wanted. George wasted no time in hurrying out to the car. Jane ran behind him and stopped him before he opened the car door.
"Thank you for everything, George. I know I can trust my dad. He promised me he wouldn't play any tricks, you don't have to worry." She looked for other words to reassure him, but couldn't find them.
"Aw heck, Lady Jane, I ain't worried none. Don't you fret neither. You're gonna be out of here and back in your nice big house in no time at all."
His words were doubly warming to her because she knew that he really was worried. She knew that he was counting on her promise and hoped that her father wouldn't play tricks to save his money. She knew it was out of her hands now. Other people would decide whether she lived or died. She kissed him lightly on the cheek and waved as he bumped the old car out of the yard. She hoped that in spite of his nervousness he would drive carefully. Even a minor accident that delayed him would mean death for her. It was that close now. As she watched the car turn onto the dirt road, she remembered a similar feeling from years ago. It was the first time she had flown. As the plane left the runway, she realized that she was airborne. If anything went wrong in the next couple of minutes, she had thought, we shall crash and I'll die. Every second of the plane's seemingly slow climb was an hour of pain. She realized that she was going to relive that experience now. The car made a turn and was lost from sight. She walked slowly back into the old house. She wondered if she would ever leave it again.
Just as during that plane flight her fate had been in the hands of others, so it was now. She looked down and saw that her fists were clenched, the knuckles white. As she shut her eyes tightly, she was on that plane again; the engines strained, the sound changed, she waited again for the crash.
"Come on you," Ma's voice shrilled from the doorway, "ain't nothin' changed till George gets back with the money. You stay in the house and keep real quiet or I tie you to the couch again'."
Jane walked into the house without replying. Inside, she found that the place had shrunk as if by magic. Previously, it had been a big kitchen in a big old house, now it was a tiny cell with the walls closing in on her. Oh my God. she thought, here I am on the verge of getting out of here and now I'm going to lose my mind. I've got to do something.
"Ma, can I wash the dishes or something?" Jane's voice showed all the rough edges of panic.
"I suppose we don't wash them good enough to suit you," the old woman retorted. "You just sit and stay put."
Hearing the old woman's shrill voice and sensing that the new favorite was in disgrace, Grace dragged herself sleepily out of the bedroom and shambled toward the stove. This time, she didn't even wear the usual panties. The ugly welts all over her white, slightly soft body gave evidence of the session with the buggy whip. They made it obvious that any clothing at all would irritate already sensitive skin. She picked up the coffee pot, poured some of the black brew into a used cup she found on the end of the stove and walked to the door. She stood there sipping from the stained mug and gazing out the door toward nothing in particular.
Jane stared at the ugly whip marks which crisscrossed Grace's back, buttocks and thighs. In spite of all the woman had done to her, she felt an instinctive sympathy. She turned away and looked at the battered old clock. It showed that ten minutes had elapsed since George left.
It must be stopped, she told herself. She walked toward it but heard the ticking before she reached it. Even driving fast, it was going to take George at least an hour to make the trip, probably longer. She wondered if she could retain her sanity that long.
She thought that her chances would have been better if she had been taken by professional kidnappers. The whole thing would have been planned and carried out efficiently. The Travers family were not professionals though, far from it. They were just an ignorant, uneducated bunch of hicks. There was no telling what they would do under pressure.
Jane looked back at the clock. Another minute had been killed. Walking aimlessly back and forth across the room, she saw Don's eyes on her. His thoughts couldn't have been more obvious if he had voiced them aloud.
Under her blouse and skirt, she wore only a bra. She had never gotten the panties back from Don and wouldn't have worn them again anyway. She knew that his eyes were seeing right through her clothes, she could see that his hands were itching to touch what his imagination was seeing.
The thought struck her then. It would be one way of killing the nerve shattering wait for George's return. She could walk into the bedroom and indicate by the simplest gesture that he was invited to join her. He would leap at the invitation. She would use up a lot of time unbuttoning the blouse. She would slip it off her shoulders one sleeve at a time, slowly, seductively.
In just her bra and skirt, she would walk slowly toward him, breathing deeply, causing the bra to rise and fall dramatically under the weight of her full breasts. Acting without haste, she would unbuckle his belt, undo the top button and slip his trousers down.
She would pull them down very slowly and see the sign of his male arousal. As she did, she would look up at him and give him a warm smile. She would see the animal hunger evident in his face.
Stopping him with her hand against his chest, she would move back then, a few feet away from him. Keeping her motions slow and deliberate, she would unfasten the bra, hold it in place for a moment, then remove one strap, free one breast from the confining cup. Her hand would rise to it, squeeze it for a few seconds, tweak the pink nipple to life. Slowly, she would remove the other cup, massage the other breast.
Dropping the bra to the floor, she would then clutch both breasts, push them up and out. The nipples would be aimed at him like a pair of ripe strawberries floating on mounds of rich whipped cream. He would be beside himself with passion.
It would be time to move on then with the show. She would reach for the snap and zipper at the side of her skirt. The zipper would make an exaggerated sound in the still room. She would hold the skirt so that it would not fall too quickly. Instead, she would lower it over her slightly rounded belly just a little at a time.
She would watch his eyes as they roved over her silken skin. Each time the skirt dropped another inch, his eyes would soak up the newly exposed flesh. He would small glimpse of the tangled foliage against the alabaster skin, then he would see all of it, then, abruptly, the skirt would plunge to the floor and she would stand naked before him. She would brace her feet wide apart.
When she beckoned, he would walk to her, kneel before her at her command and pay loving tribute to her body with eyes and hands and lips. Having been readied then, she would lead him to the bed and, arranging herself deliberately, would invite him to be guest of honor at the banquet of Venus. He would gorge himself in every possible way.
Having worked out the plan in detail, she rejected it. She couldn't do it, not now anyway. She started to turn to look at the clock, but stopped herself. I mustn't keep looking at it, she reminded herself. That only makes it worse. I must do something else. She turned to the dirty window and stared out into the junk littered back yard, beyond that, at the stunted scrub brush that crept into the shaggy grass cover of the yard.
My God, she thought, this whole place is so stunted, so dirty, that not even the woods will grow normally. She wondered whether the people had contaminated the trees or whether the environment of the broken down farm had infected the people. She was not inclined to blame nature in this case.
A hurried movement behind her caused her to turn abruptly. Grace was bending in front of Don who stood by the table. With frenzied movements, she was tearing his pants open and pulling them down. Almost in the same motion, she turned and clutched the edge of the table, her fat buttocks wiggling an obscene invitation to the nude man.
Like an animal, he was on her. His arms wrapped around her body, his belly rushed against her with the sound of flesh slamming against naked flesh. As his weight was thrown against her time after time with a piston like action, Grace lost her balance and was thrown roughly onto the table.
Her feet left the floor, but there was no break in the action. Don grabbed one thigh with each hand and seemed to pull her roughly toward him as his body slammed her in the other direction. As her body was abused, she mouthed a stream of obscenities which seemed to be directed at Don, at her, at Ma, but mostly at George. In spite of the words she used, she seemed to be lost in a transport of erotic delight, like a continuing, unending climax.
When her peak did arrive, she had nothing left. She fell limply across the table, her arms flapping loosely, her body still being pounded by the animal thrusts of the man who held her thighs and manipulated her body as easily as if she had been a rag doll.
Don finished with a grunt and a mighty lunge which brought a scream of pain from her. As he backed away, he wore a detached smile.
Sweat poured from his body. Looking down at the wreckage of his arousal, he walked slowly to his room. Through the open door, Jane saw him reach under his pillow and come up with her panties. He wiped with them, on and on and on.
Looking toward Ma, Jane saw her huddled over the end of the table. It was as though she had ignored everything that had happened before her eyes. The action had been within inches of her, but she seemed not to have seen it. Her thoughts were obviously far away with a son who drove the dirt roads on a dangerous mission. A mother wondered whether she would ever see her son again, wondered if she had made a terrible mistake, wondered if she should have just killed this strange young woman and protected her family. But it was too late for such thoughts now. All she could do was wait and worry. She did.
CHAPTER NINE
All seemed to hear the sound of the car at the same moment. There was a general frozen pause, then all rushed to the door. As the car turned into the lane, they saw that it was George and that he was alone.
Jane strained her eyes to try to read some expression on his face. She knew that Ma and Grace were doing the same thing. From their distance, it was impossible. When George scrambled out of the car almost before it stopped, he was carrying a box under his right arm.
As she felt her body go limp with relief, Jane suddenly knew that her father had kept his promise. He had paid the fifty thousand. She sensed somehow that he had kept the bargain all the way and hadn't called in the police. She felt an overpowering surge of love for the man. When the chips were down, when his daughter was in trouble, he had come through.
George ran through the door ignoring the babble of the questions that poured from his mother. Standing in the middle of the floor, he uncovered the box, turned it upside down and let the crisp bills pour in a shower to the floor. The entire amount seemed to be made up of tens and twenties.
"Did you see my dad?" Jane asked when she could find her voice.
"Sure did. He gave me the money hisself. He didn't even look mad or nothin'. Just asked if you was okay. I told him you was and that you'd be home soon. He seemed real relieved."
It had been a long speech for George and he looked tired. Ma, Grace and Don were hunched on the floor grabbing at the tangle of bills. All their lives they had lived in abject poverty, now they were handling more money than they ever could have imagined. George had been wildly elated when he crashed into the house. He was strangely subdued now.
"What's wrong, George?" Jane asked. "Are you afraid that it was a trap? I know Dad wouldn't do that. He promised me he wouldn't."
"It ain't that, Jane." How could he tell her that having saved her life, he had shattered his own by making it possible for her to leave? What right did he have to fall in love with a rich, beautiful young woman? It was over now and he would never see that lovely body again, never touch it again. He would return to Grace and their old ways, but it would never really be enough, not after what he had tasted.
Jane's arm moved around his waist as he stood looking down at his family as they scrambled through the scattered bills. Her hand rubbed his back comfortingly. Her womanly instinct told her some of what was going on in his mind.
She urged him toward the bedroom with her hand still on his back. She closed the door and returning to him, threw her arms around him, pressed her cheek against his.
"Thank you, George. Thank you for everything. For trusting me, for saving my life, for everything."
He was embarrassed. He felt her arms press him tightly, felt the warmth of her body through their clothes.
"George," her voice was small and warm, "will you come to bed with me now and take me? I want to give you everything."
He stepped back as if stung. He threw her arms away from him.
"You don't owe me nothin'." His voice was hard, angry. "We kidnapped you and we got our money and now you kin go. You don't have to give me nothin'."
"I know that George," her voice remained calm in the face of his bitter anger, "I don't feel I have to give you anything. Maybe you have to give me something. Maybe you have to listen to me."
As he looked in her eyes, the anger melted from his face but the hurt remained.
"I know George that you did kidnap me, that you were prepared to kill me. You didn't though and I know why you didn't. I won't say why, but you know it and so do I."
She wanted to say more, but he stopped her. "All right, Lady Jane, maybe you're right and maybe you ain't, but its stupid and you know it."
"No George," she interrupted, "it's not stupid. It would be stupid if either of us thought that anything could ever come of it, but as two people, something human happened between us. Out of all the ugliness of the past few days, something good happened. I'm not ashamed of it and there's no reason why you should be."
"I dunno, Jane. You make it sound real good. Like we was all friends or somethin'. Like I was good as you. Now you know that just ain't so."
"Who's good George and who isn't good? I've had all the advantages in the world and yet I wouldn't say I'm any good. I know what I am."
"I don't know what you are, Lady Jane, but you wouldn't of done the things we done."
"Stop punishing yourself, George. You got tired of living in poverty and saw a chance to get a lot money by kidnapping me. My old man paid the ransom and he'll never miss the money. I'm going to go back to my crazy, empty world and in a little while I'll forget about the fears I've lived through here. Maybe with the money you got, you can fix up the farm and make it a good place again. Maybe you can get a fresh start in life. Who knows, George, maybe a lot of good will come out of all this."
"You're a very strange woman, Lady Jane." His hand moved out, he ruffled her untidy hair.
"George, you ain't seen nothin' yet. A minute ago, I asked you to take me to bed. You wouldn't do it because you thought I was just doing it out of gratitude. Well I've got news for you. It wasn't just gratitude.
"I've been through a lot of hell for a while, George, and now I'm just a bundle of nerves. I need something. I need it so bad I can taste it an it doesn't taste good. I've got a body full of great big womanly hunger, George, and I need a man like you to make me feel good. I mean that. There's one change though, I don't want to get in bed. I want you to hold my hand and walk in the woods with me. When we find a nice quiet spot, I want to lie down with you and make love. Will you do it?"
"Will I do it? Oh Lady Jane I just can't wait."
"Come on then." She took his big hand and they walked out of the room together. In the kitchen, the other three were sitting on the floor stacking the money into piles. Suddenly, Don seemed to have achieved equality with Ma and Grace.
"Where's you two goin'?" Ma's voice stopped them as they stepped through the door.
"We're goin' for a little walk, Ma. We'll be back in a while. Don't fret none."
It was as if she wanted to argue about it, but she knew from her son's voice that she would lose this argument so she dropped it. Instead, she busied herself with the task of counting all that lovely money, watching the nice, neat piles growing before her eyes. Somehow, she had always known that some day she would lead her family out of poverty and now she had done it. She didn't stop to ponder the morality of it, she just accepted it.
Outside the house, George and Jane walked quickly through the rubble of the yard. They didn't talk, they didn't need to. Jane's small, warm hand was lost inside his, lost in a comforting way. He steered them toward a barely noticable break in the brush. It became a path and led toward the bigger trees on the side of the hill.
It was as if they had entered a new world. It was a world of clean air and bright sunshine and beauty. Birds sang and made quick, excited sounds as they fluttered away. The grass was greener than any she had ever seen. When they reached a small clearing, they stopped by mutual consent.
Without exhibitionism or shyness either. Jane began to undress. In a minute, she stood naked. George had also started to strip, but he had stopped to look at her, to drink in the beauty of her. When she looked at him, he returned to his task so that in a minute, he too was naked.
They came together easily, without urgency but with great warmth and mutual need. Their bodies clung, flesh cleaving to flesh in a ritual as old as time itself. She raised her face to him and their mouths met in a kiss that did not recognize different stations of life, different backgrounds. It was a kiss between a man and a woman in need of each other. It lasted for a long time.
Later, they lay together on a firm bed of grass and leaves. His strong muscular body should have been a crushing weight, but instead it was a comforting warmth. As their act of man and woman progressed, the sun seemed to shine a little brighter, their bodies were bathed in the warmth of sky and earth and each other. When completion arrived for both, they lay together silently in complete unison.
Later, hand in hand they walked naked down the hill to the stream at the bottom of the valley. The water was just cool enough to be refreshing. The sparkling water didn't wash away anything dirty because there was no dirt to wash away, only the human residue of physical exertion and the act of man and woman who have shared everything.
But it did more than that. As it took away a fatigue, it imparted a new life, a renewal of healthy desire, warm, comforting hunger which must be appeased. They walked back up the hill, their bodies glistening wet in the warm sun.
Without a word, without haste, they were on the grass again. Their arms found each other, their; lips met, his mouth sought and found her many hungers and appeased each in quiet order. When her thighs parted for him, they were pearly gates of the eternity of woman and his response was the pillar of humanity which answered the need.
After they had dressed, when they walked back down the path toward the house, there were no needs left in the world. The old house hadn't really changed, the yard hadn't been cleaned up, yet somehow, the whole thing was less ugly now. It still was far from beautiful, but it was tolerable.
She stopped him suddenly just as they reached the yard. Her voice was anxious, nervous.
"George, there's something I have to say. Please listen and try to understand. I made Ma a promise about Don after this was all over. Can you understand if I want to keep that promise? Will it spoil what we just had?"
"No, Lady Jane. Can't nothin' spoil that. For a little girl, you got a real big heart in there. You gotta do what you gotta do. I ain't never gonna forget this day and ain't nothin' ever goin' to spoil it."
If his speech was less than articulate, it was sincere. She knew that he meant every word of it, knew that he understood. They walked quickly back to the house.
The money was on the table now and the piles were still being rearranged. It seemed that there was no end to the arrangements that could be found to stack fifty thousand dollars in tens and twenties. Their return was almost unnoticed except by Grace.
Grace wanted to devote her entire attention to the wonderful mounds of money, but she could not overlook the appearance of her husband and this intruder. If it is possible for eyes to register love and hate at the same time, she achieved it. The hatred was directed at a human, the love was directed toward the lovely piles of paper.
Jane caught the old woman's eye and they walked outside the house together. The walked far enough into the yard to be out of earshot of the house before they stopped.
"Look girl," the old woman said, "I don't rightly know that what you and George done was a good thing, but I ain't condemning it."
"Ma, a lot of things have happened that were not good. What we did out there in the woods was not bad at all. It was a good thing, Ma, a very beautiful thing. Don't scold him about it, just let it be."
The old woman was plainfully confused. She knew that this beautiful young woman could weave an irresistable spell over her son, knew that it could be dangerous, but yet, she had to think of all the things that had happened during Jane's stay at the farm.
"Ma, I made you a promise about Don. I want to keep it."
"You don't have to do that, Jane. You kept your part of the bargain, your dad kept his, that's enough."
"This is going to sound awfully strange, Ma, but please try to understand. When my life was at stake, I made promises. Now that it's all over, I want to keep every one of them. I know how much you love Don and I know why. I've never been a mother, but I am a woman and I guess I can feel these things.
"If you want to take a couple of hundred dollars out of that pile, we can give Don the greatest day in his life. It won't make him any different when it's all over, he'll still be what he is, but it will give him some beautiful things to think about for the rest of his life."
The tears were obvious in the old woman's eyes. "Jane, you are a very strange young woman. Why should you care anythin' about Donny, after all we done to you? You do though, I can tell."
"Yes, Ma, I do. I don't know why. I guess maybe it's because I don't see Don as a man really, I see him as a mixed up little boy who knows there are a lot of things going on in the world that he can't have and can't really understand.
"Yesterday, I thought I was going to die. I was afraid. I made a lot of promises then. Now that everything is right again, I feel I owe something to him. If I don't pay that debt, I'll be ashamed of myself as long as I live. Can you understand that?"
"Yup, Jane, I guess I can. We called you Lady Jane, kind of makin' fun of you, but you're a real lady."
"Thanks, Ma. Will you drive into town with me right now. Not Kingsville, too many people know me there. Clanton isn't too far away, let's go there and get all the things we need. How about it?"
The old woman caught the excitement of the moment and was swept up in it. "Come on, Lady Jane, what are we waitin' for?"
They hurried back into the house. While the old woman applied her toilette in the form of a cold water splash, Jane told George of their plans. He approved.
Deciding against the ostentation of the big Lincoln, Jane drove the old Chev. They arrived in Clanton in lots of time to do all the shopping they had in mind.
The proprietor of the Clanton Ladies' Wear was amazed at selling a complete bridal outfit without any elaborate fittings or alterations. While he was still trying to figure out his profit on that, he had to take time out to supply all the rest of the trousseau. He would have to compute the profit later. Right now he was much too busy selling. He didn't know who this beautiful young woman was or why she was with the ugly old hag, but he wasn't about to question fate.
When they left the store, they were loaded with parcels. When Jane dumped hers into the car and moved back to the sidewalk, Ma did the same but she couldn't understand it. What now, she wondered.
The next stop was the Clanton Bakery. They didn't have a proper wedding cake in stock, but Jane bought the fanciest one they had and decided it would do. Their last stop was the liquor store where she picked up six bottles of champagne. This was going to be a party to remember. It would have to be. It was going to have to provide a lifetime of memories to a young man. A not very healthy young man who never had dreamed that anything like this could ever happen to him.
With the back seat of the old car groaning under the weight, they began the drive back to the farm.
CHAPTER TEN
Jane and Ma carried the packages into the house and only smiled at the curious gazes they elicited. Jane had told George enough about her plans so that he had at least a general understanding. It was obvious that he had told Grace nothing. She was so curious about it that she was ready to scream.
Don too was curious and even though he seemed to sense that it was somehow connected with him, he seemed content to wait to find out about it.
They had just finished unloading their packages when Jane realized that she hadn't called her father to tell him that she was safe and well and would be home late that night. She called Ma aside and told her about it.
The old woman looked at her, surprise showing in her face. "You know, Jane, you could go right now if you want to. You don't really have to stay."
"I know, Ma, but I feel I do have to stay. I have one more promise to keep. It's important to me. Will you come with me while I phone?"
Ma was on the verge of telling her she was free to go alone when she caught herself. She felt the girl could be trusted, but there was no point putting temptation in her way.
"Sure Jane, me and you'll go right now. I'll get Grace to put supper on for us while we're gone. That way, we won't have to waste too much time when we get back."
As they hurried back to the car, their attitude was that of a couple of teen-agers on a slightly illicit mission. Jane drove fast, a little too fast. Before she realized it, the phone booth outside the service station was beside them. She hit the brakes and felt the car begin to get away. As she fought it to a stop on the shoulder of the road, she warned herself to drive more carefully. Easy girl, she cautioned, you've just saved your life, don't throw it away already. She did a fast U-turn and scooted back into the station lot.
She was disappointed when her mother answered the phone, she had hoped to talk to her father.
"What in hell are you doing anyway? Bunny asked.
"Skip it mom. Just tell Dad thanks and tell him I'll be home late tonight."
It was obvious that Bunny wanted to argue and scold, but Jane was in no mood for that. She had been prepared to treat her mother better after what she had been through, but that was obviously not going to be possible.
"Just give dad the message, Bunny. I'll tell you both more about it when I get there."
Bunny was still sputtering when Jane hung up the phone. Her mother's familiar attitude seemed somehow to be a bridge with the past. Jane was even more relaxed as she drove back to the farm.
Grace had taken the trouble to dress up to prepare dinner. Her costume was still less than one would expect of a hotel chef, she wore the pink rayon panties and a collection of whip scars as she stood at the stove turning pork chops in the iron frying pan. The packages from their shopping trip were still piled on the couch. George sat silently on the end of the couch as if standing guard. It was obvious that no prying eyes had gotten at them.
As they walked into the kitchen, George got up and dug around in the cupboard until he found a glass. With an almost gentlemanly flourish, he handed it to Jane and poured it more than half full of the cloudy-white home brew he had been drinking. She took it gladly. It wasn't her idea of the perfect liquor, but right now, she needed a drink. Neither Ma or Grace seemed offended when he offered them the bottle for a straight slug.
Don employed his magic radar to return to the house just as the food was being put on the table. The Travers family was never big in the table manners department, but tonight they hurried the meal even more than usual.
Jane had considered breaking out one of the bottles of champagne for dinner, but the sight of the greasy pork chops and soggy boiled potatoes had made that idea seem wrong. After they finished eating, she decided to go ahead and live dangerously.
The sparkling wine was much too warm by now, but it did add something to the festive spirit even though they drank it out of coffee mugs that were something less than clean.
During the meal, Ma had gotten up and put a big pot of water on the stove. Now, as they thought of refilling the mugs with champagne, Ma shooed them out into the yard. She kept Don with her. It was obvious to Jane that Don was about to be prepared for the big event.
In the yard, the three sat on a log and passed the champagne bottle around. Grace did not make any effort to be pleasant, but on the other hand, she didn't go out of her way to be unpleasant either. She remained quietly sullen. When Ma and Don joined them a little while later, he was shaved, bathed and dressed in a not quite so dirty pair of trousers. He wore a more or less white shirt with a rather badly frayed collar. The sleeves were rolled up to show that even his arms had been washed. Ma had been thorough in her preparations for the feast. Jane excused herself and went into the house. First, she picked up another bottle of champagne and brought it out to the yard. Leaving it with Ma, she went back into the house.
There was still some hot water in the big pot. Quickly, she stripped and did the best she could in the way of a sponge bath. She looked forward to a luxurious bath in the gleaming tub at home, but that would have to wait for now.
Picking up an armful of packages, she carried them into Ma's bedroom and began opening them. First, she took out a black lacey bra and fitted it carefully over her breasts. Looking at herself, she knew it was just right. A pair of plain black nylon panties followed.
She realized that it was wrong for a bridal outfit, but this was to be a special wedding night. She was to be a most unusual bride. She knew Don would appreciate the contrast of the black lingerie against her white skin.
Over the bra and panties, she pulled on a white rayon slip. Through it, she could see the outline of the black under and decided that it provided just the right touch. Only then did she remember the garter belt and smoky black nylons. She dug into the packages until she found them. Hiking up the slip, she fitted the garter belt then took her time about pulling on the nylons and attaching the suspenders.
She opened the biggest box then and drew out the wedding gown. It had cost eighty-nine dollar and would hardly have been accepted by her circle back in the city, but for this purpose it was spectacular. She pulled it on and after some difficulty, managed to zip it up in back. All that remained now was the veil. She decided to hold that for now.
Standing carefully behind the door, she called Ma. The old woman hurried into the house. "I do declare, Jane, you're just real beautiful. I sure can't understand why you do all this for Don, but he's sure goin' to be one happy boy."
"That's why I'm doing it Ma. I hope you can understand that."
"For the second time during her enforced stay at the farm, Jane saw tears in the eyes of the old woman. She knew that either Ma understood or at least she appreciated. Either way was good enough.
"Ma, would you mind very much if I asked that Don and I be alone in the house?"
Jane saw the look of alarm flash across the woman's face. She waited for her answer, prepared to argue if necessary.
"I dunno, Jane. I ain't saying there's nothin' wrong with Don, mind you, but I'm just a bit scared about you and him bein' alone here in the house for ... well, you know."
"Yes Ma. I know. But I'm not afraid. I'm not just being brave or a show-off, I'm confident that I can go ahead with what I have in mind without any danger to me."
"I dunno. My Don's a good boy, but I'm just not so sure this is a good idea."
"All right, Ma. Let's make a deal. I'll take the chance if you will. You go outside with George and Grace and leave me alone in here with Don."
The argument went on a little longer, but the old woman was no match for a confident Jane, a Jane confident that she could handle any man. In time, Ma gave up and went outside. In her arms, she carried two bottles of champagne. She set them down carefully beside the log and called Don aside.
"Now look, boy," she spoke with a mixture of motherly concern and stern warning, "that girl Jane is inside the house there and she's ready to be real nice to you. You go ahead in, but I want you to remember to be a real good boy and don't hurt her in no way. You hear me boy?"
"Yeah, Ma. I wouldn't hurt her none. I like her. She's real nice. Can I go in now?"
"Go ahead Donny."
She stood watching until Don opened the door and closed it behind him. Only then did she sit on the log beside George. He handed her an opened bottle of champagne. Whether or not she saw it, she seemed to ignore it.
"Tell me George, do you think I done right letting him go in there alone with her?"
"Yeah Ma. I think you done right. He won't hurt her. He likes her and she's a real smart girl. She kin handle him."
His assurance seemed to be all she needed. Taking the bottle from his hand, she poured a mug full and held it to her mouth. In a little while she would drink it down in one big gulp, but for now she just wanted to feel the bubbles jump and break against her lips.
* * *
Don walked into the house knowing that something good was going to happen. He knew that Jane was going to be nice to him, but beyond that he knew nothing. He remembered again how beautiful she looked when naked. He wished though that he hadn't taken her panties. It was nice wearing them and keeping them under his pillow and going to sleep feeling them every night, but, he thought, it would be nice to see her with some clothes on right now, then he could watch her taking them off. Still, he was not about to complain.
When he saw the kitchen deserted, Don felt a quick rush of anger. He had been promised a treat and he intended to get if. It she didn't give it to him willingly, if she tried to hide, he would take it. He would beat her and crush her and make her cry, but he would take it.
Just then, the door to Ma's room opened. He saw nothing, but he heard her voice.
"Come in Don, I'm waiting for you."
His anger melted. It was that soft, sweet voice that he had come to love. He was mad at himself for having doubted her even for a moment.
As he began to walk toward the bedroom, the door opened wide. He stopped as if frozen. Jane stood inside the room, the light from behind her imparting an angelic glow to her appearance.
The bridal veil flowed over her head and fell into a shadow of lace behind her. The clinging white lace gown molded itself to her figure so that every lovely curve of her breasts, waist and thighs was emphasized. From there, it fell in a graceful sweep to the floor. She held a hand out as if to guide him to her.
"Gosh, Jane," he finally found his voice, "you're the nicest woman I ever saw."
"I want to be nice for you, Don. This is your special night and everything is going to be lovely. Come to me Don."
Jane had hoped she would be able to go through with it. She knew now that it was going to be easy. There was a child-like innocence about him that was going to make it more than just easy to tolerate. She knew now that in bringing pleasure to him, she too would find enjoyment.
As he reached the door, she took his hand and guided him into the room. On a table beside the bed, there were two bottles of champagne. Beside them stood two glasses. They were simple kitchen tumblers, but they had been washed and polished so that they sparkled. Two kitchen chairs had been added to the room, they had been placed beside each other, close to the table.
"Do you like me, Don?" Jane turned slowly so that he could get the full effect of the bridal costume.
"Gee yes, Jane, you're the purttiest girl I ever saw."
"For a little while, Don, I'm going to be just your girl. Come and sit by me and we'll drink wine and talk. After that, we'll do other things, nice things."
Following her guidance, he sat on one of the chairs. Jane sat on the other, close enough so that they could touch. She picked up one of the bottles from the table and began to work at the wires which held the cork. When it blew and hit the far wall, he tensed for a moment, then he broke into childish laughter. She joined him.
Jane poured two glasses full of the bubbling liquid and handed it to him.
"Let's play a game, Don. Let's pretend that we are the only people in the whole world. Because there are just the two of us, we can do anything we want to do. What do you want to do, Don?"
Don paused for a few seconds. Decisions were difficult for him. Finally, he found words.
"I guess I'd like to look at you because you're so purtty and I'd like to listen to you talk because you talk nice and soft."
"I think that's a lovely idea, Don. We'll drink our wine and we'll talk and we'll look at each other."
Jane raised the glass to her mouth. He saw the full red lips part slightly to accept the glass, saw the clear white wine pour into her mouth. He forgot about his own drink. When she put her glass down, he remembered his own. He lifted it and drank greedily as if it were water. He laughed.
"Hey, don't that feel funny? It's kinda ... I dunno ... kinda funny like."
Jane laughed with him and the sound of her laughter warmed the room. "Yes Don, it is kind of funny. It makes people feel very happy when they drink it. Drink some more."
Their glasses were empty then. She began to reach for the bottle, then stopped and looked into his face.
"Don, would you like me to take off my dress now?"
There was a long agonizing silence as she stood before him. "Gee, I dunno. I'd like to see you with no clothes on but you look so purtty I dunno."
Jane sensed that decisions were difficult for him. "I'll tell you what, Don. I won't ask you to decide. I'll just do it when I think I should. Is that all right?"
"Yeah, Jane, that's real nice."
Moving slowly, gracefully, she refilled their glasses. Instead of picking hers up, she stood before him, reached behind her and found the zipper. It made an exciting sound as it slid smoothly down. When she felt it reach the bottom of the track, she brought her hands around and pulled it easily off her shoulders. With a graceful movement, she moved it down over her hips and stepped out of it. Throwing it casually over the back of the chair, she moved back to the table and picked up her glass.
This time, Don joined her in drinking. He still watched her full, red lips as she drank, but managed to drink his own drink as he watched.
The white nylon slip displayed her naked shoulders, hugged the fullness of her breasts, hugged her waist, and fell smoothly around her hips. Through it, the black bra and panties were clearly visible. She could see that the effect was not wasted on him.
She sat then and for a while they talked about the simple things Don would know and understand. He told her of the woods behind the house and how he liked to walk in them, how he saw many birds and animals. She discovered that in spite of his retardation, he had a keen appreciation of the beauties of nature. She wondered how she could ever have been afraid of him. Inside the graceless body, she saw a sensitivity and affinity with the gentle things of woods and water and sky.
When the glasses had been emptied again, she stood. Bending a little, she grasped the hem of the slip.
"I'm going to take this off now, Don, and show you some more nice things. Would you like that?"
"Yeah, Jane, I'd like that a lot. Will you really do it?"
Instead of answering, she smiled. Her hands began to raise the slip. Slowly, evenly, it climbed above her knees so that he saw the swell of the dusky shaded nylons to their fully expanded tops. As the slip continued to climb, his eyes feasted on the pure white of her thighs, the beginning of the black nylon panties where the material dipped between her thighs. Still it climbed, over the gentle swell of her belly, up to the fully packed cups of the black bra, up and up until it had been raised over her head and tossed aside.
Don could find no words, he needed none. His eyes spoke volumes as Jane walked slowly back to the table, her lush body moving with fluid action under the scanty webs of black nylon. He saw the contrast of the black panties and nylons against the white of her thighs, broken only by the narrow, taut strip of suspender.
As he looked up, he found more exciting contrast of white skin between areas of shimmering, swelling nylon. At the top of the bra, the cleavage of her breasts formed their own lush smile of invitation and promise. It was a promise of things he had never known and even now couldn't really imagine.
She saw his mouth moving, knew he was searching for words. She tried to help him.
"Tell me, Don, what would you like to do?"
It helped. He found his voice. "I'd like to touch you. You know, all over."
She moved toward him and stood beside his chair. Her leg brushed lightly against his thigh. She saw his hands move, felt the first touch through the sheer nylons, felt the hands moving, stroking, caressing. Jane had seduced and been seduced by some of the most popular men in town, but she had never experienced anything like this. She was filled with a sense of giving and in doing so, she received something she had never felt before.
"Don," her voice contained the gentle warmth of music, "would you like to take your clothes off now and let me look at you?"
Without a word, he stood and began to undress. He did it without effort, without any attempt at effect, with a child-like simplicity. When he was completely naked, he stood before her awaiting a word of approval.
The simple smile of supplication contrasted with the full maturity of maleness below. At the same time, he was both child and man.
Jane pointed toward the bed. There were no covers on it. There was just the new sheet she had purchased that afternoon. It gleamed white and clean, covering the ugliness of the shabby mattress below as all ugliness had been covered.
"Tell me Don, would you like to get in bed with me, or would you rather we kept on sitting for a while?"
Again there was the pause while his mind fought to marshal thoughts, then translate them into words.
"If we get into the bed, would you still let me touch you and would you take off them purty things and let me look at you all over?"
"Of course, Don. Remember, I told you this was your special time. Anything you want, you can have."
Jane sat on the edge of the bed and held her hand out to him in warm invitation. As he reached the bed, she moved easily to the far side. The rich contours of her lush body became an exotic flower against the sparkling white sheet. As he settled in the bed slightly away from her, she moved toward him, her breasts seeming to hover over him before pressing against his excited body.
For just a few seconds, he lay stiff and motionless, then his hands reached for her, his arms wrapped around her with crushing power. Jane felt the breath forced out of her lungs, waited for the sound that would tell her that ribs had been crushed. In one moment of terror, she realized why Ma hadn't wanted her to be alone with the man.
Don was a gentle creature, kind and without feelings of violence, but his physical development had far surpassed his mental growth.
Her left leg was between his thighs, she moved it upward, not in a kicking motion which she sensed could arouse him to an even more dangerous state, but in a smooth, caressing movement.
The silkiness of nylons and naked skin whispered over his thighs with an electrifying feeling. The smoothness moved all the way up until it reached his most sensitive point. As she continued to gasp for breath, her thigh moved back and forward against him.
With an anxious intake of breath, she felt his body draw into a bow, felt his arms release her. His hands moved over her body in a light, gentle, seeking way.
"Don," she whispered, "you must be very careful. You are a strong man and you hurt me when you hold me tight like that."
She saw the apology in his eyes. "I'm sorry Jane. I didn't mean to hurt you, honest."
She brushed her cheek against his. "I know you didn't, Don, and I know you'll be more careful."
She reached back then and slipped the fastener of the bra, felt it spring loose under the weight of her breasts. Holding the overfilled cups in place, she worked carefully, slipping the straps off her shoulders.
Taking his hand, she guided it to the surface of her right breast. Don felt the cup move under his hand. As he stroked the silkiness, it fell away and the naked breast rose to meet him. For a few moments, his hand caressed the warm mound then, acting with the instinct of a child, his mouth reached for it.
As she cradled his strong, muscular body in her naked arms, his mouth worked over the heaving globe. As the pink tip grew and moved to meet his eager tongue, he became even more excited. He emitted little sounds of hunger and excitement and childish eagerness.
His hand found the other cup of the bra and pushed it away. He toyed with the fullness of breast, at one moment gentle and tender, at the next, innocently rough and hurting.
After a long while, when she felt her breasts would burst under his ministrations, Jane rose a little over him so that her lush body blotted out everything else in the room for him.
"Take my panties off now Don," she whispered huskily, "so you can see all of me."
Jane slithered up toward the pillow. At the same time, she felt him slide downward, felt his hands travel greedily over her body. When the hands reached the panties, they stopped their trip, but did not stop moving completely. The hands sought out the sloping curves, the mounds, the recesses. They lingered where they found the greatest warmth, lingered and stroked until the warmth grew even greater.
She felt herself being pulled easily across his body, felt strong hands begin to move the panties down. He held her so close that she could feel his hot, excited breath on her skin where the panties were beginning their slow descent.
But if Don was being consumed by passion, so was she. She could no longer control the motions of her body. She felt it twisting and writhing and heaving as if it had a mind of its own.
She felt the panties being moved over the mounds of her buttocks, felt his face moving behind his hands so that as she was bared, she was immediately covered again with face and lips and hot exciting breath.
As the panties were pushed even lower, she scissored her legs to force them all the way down and off. She was free now of all encumbering clothing. Her garter belt and nylons remained, but she felt it was better to keep them on. She sensed he would prefer it that way.
His face had moved now from the slopes to the warm inviting valley of her thighs. She had been pulled directly over him, their positions reversed so that as his hands clutched at the fullness of buttocks and probed the shadowy valley, his face was buried in the warmth of her. His tongue was a daring, darting asp which drove her to heights of passion she had never known.
Her body writhed in his grasp, but never escaped it, didn't want to escape. When she expelled her breath in a long sigh of completion, Don released her and looked fearful, alarmed. He didn't want her to scold him, didn't want to know that he had hurt her again.
"Oh Don," she whispered, "that was lovely. That was beautiful." She heard the unevenness of her voice, knew that she could no more control it than she could control her body. In seeking to do him a favor, in acting out of pity, she had reaped the most wildly passionate experience she had ever known. He was so beautifully untutored, so inexperienced and yet so male and so strong. Jane couldn't wait. The experience couldn't be prolonged. Her body could no longer stand the strain of waiting for the ultimate fulfillment.
She reached for him then and her hand wrapped around the throbbing maleness of him. Rolling onto her back, she felt her thighs part even before she willed them to do so. The hungry need had taken complete possession of her entire body and especially that portion of it which most felt the need.
Lying back, looking down over the slopes and planes of her nude body, she saw him loom up between the wide vee of her wide spread knees. Suddenly, he became the biggest man in the world, biggest in every respect.
As she felt his body lower toward the inviting nest of her thighs, she had one final close-up look at that portion of him which could work the miracle of satisfying the unbearable hunger.
There was a hard bumping and probing for a moment, then a flash of pain as his entire body seemed to be filled in one carnal moment. The pain passed quickly, but the sensation of being filled went on and on.
No longer was he the mental defective. Now, he was man. He was all the men who ever lived, doing all the things that only man can do. Now, he was the equal to all men, he was Valentino and Ben Casey and Einstein and Cassius Clay, each at their best.
What a perverse nature had taken from him in one department, she had compensated in another.
The simple farm boy had achieved his moment of brilliant glory like a meteor streaking brilliantly through the night sky, for its moment of splendor drawing attention from all the planets. Who would say that the one brief moment of glory is less than a lifetime of mediocrity. Not Jane.
As her lovely body rocked under the delicious battering of his driving maleness, she had been transported beyond any heights she had ever experienced, ever imagined. Never had her body been so filled with man, never had she been so completely manipulated, so thoroughly possessed, so truly and completely taken.
Jane had lost all sense of time. It seemed, somehow, that this carnival of lust had been going on for hours now, but she knew that had to be wrong. She had seen his state, she knew that he could not possibly sustain it for more than a few minutes, and yet, he seemed to go on and on. It was as if it would never end and she hoped it never would.
But all thoughts were torn from her as she plunged into another thrill of completion. She screamed her delight, but her hands and legs clasped him so that when he would have retreated in terror, she held him to her and reassured him with her body that her scream had not been one of protest or of describable pain.
Still he drove and plunged, still the mythological god of lust battered and caressed her body in the same ritual dance of unbridled lust, the same continuing carnival of carnality. Still her eager young body rose to meet each charge of his manhood and fell back in willing submission under the attack that could not be withstood.
With a glad, animal cry of exultation, he threw his full weight on her and she felt the muscle and steel of the man crush her into a happy oblivion. As he spent his monumental strength into her, she was filled with all the fires of hell, all the perfumed balms of the orient, her world was filled with beautiful lights, exciting yet restful music of a million violins, giant breakers crashed on rocky shores and receded in faint trickles along sun warmed, golden sand.
Under the spell of the moment of majesty, her own body found strength to express another peak completion and the pleasures and the pleasurable pain were doubled and tripled and magnified to the millionth power.
Her arms dropped back to the bed, her legs fell weakly, his massive frame rested on her with a weight that was both heavy and light. She heard and felt sounds of heavy breathing but could not be sure whether they were his or hers.
It didn't matter though. After all they had shared, breathing too was a shared thing. It was something that happened somehow and somehow, both lived as a result.
To her surprise, Jane found strength enough to swing her legs over the side of the bed and reach to the table for the bottle of champagne. She poured what was left into two cups and passed one to Don. He took it from her eagerly as he had taken and given everything.
It was too warm, but that didn't really matter. It still bubbled and still retained some of its original taste and that was enough.
Don sat up beside her as they drank, and she began to say the things that had to be said.
"You know, Don, I'll be leaving in a little while."
She saw his face fall, saw the look of boyish happiness vanish to be replaced by one of bleak disappointment.
"Try to understand, Don, I can't really stay here. I have a life of my own to live in my home. I have my family and my friends and I have to go back to them now. Just think of the nice things that happened, try to stay happy remembering them."
He looked at the pile of clothes on the chair, picked up the bra and panties from the bed, held them for a moment, then added them to the rest.
"Will you be taking all these with you?" His voice was that of a very little boy who sees Christmas ending and fears that it will never come again.
"No Don, I'm leaving them all for you. Understand now, they are yours. You don't have to let anyone take them from you. Every time you look at them or touch them, you can remember the nice things we did tonight." She honed that would help, hoped he would be able to find his own type of solace from them.
His smile began to return. It wasn't what it had been earlier, but it was still a smile anyway. She had brought something beautiful into his life and now she was preparing to take it away. The things she left behind would have to do.
From a chair on the far side of the room, she picked up her bra and dress. She tucked the now sensitive breasts into the cups of the bra and winced a little at each touch. She pulled the dress over her head and let it fall over her.
Jane picked up her shoes and sat to slip them on her feet. As she felt the nylon, she stopped and looked at the man who sat on the bed looking at her with big, sad eyes.
She dropped the shoe and reached under her dress for the fastener of the garter belt. Unfastening it, she let it fall and began unrolling the long, dark nylons. When they had both been removed, she slipped her feet into the shoes and felt the coolness of the leather on her warm, bare feet. Moving slowly, she walked to the table by the bed and dropped the nylons and garter belt on top of the pile. His look of love was reward enough.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
When Jane walked out of the house, Don stayed on the bed. She was tempted to say good-bye, but felt that it would be wrong. She decided it was enough to just walk quietly out of the room and leave him with his thoughts. She hoped they would be pleasant enough and last long enough to sustain him.
Carrying the last bottle of champagne and her cup, she joined the others who sat outside in the yard. Because there was nothing to say, Jane said nothing. She poured her cup half full of the warm champagne and passed the bottle to George. Ma caught her eye and they exchanged looks which in the secret language of women told the story. It said that everything was under control and that Don was temporarily content and happy.
Walking over to the old woman, she spoke softly so that the others would not hear.
"I'm going to go now, Ma. You're not still afraid are you?"
"Some," the woman answered.
"You needn't be, you know. In the beginning, I suppose if I could have I would have killed you and George and Don if I could have. After that, I came to understand all of you. I know you're not mean or cruel or anything like that. You just did what you thought you had to do. We made a deal and I intend to keep my part of it."
"I guess maybe you will, Lady Jane." The old woman looked a little less apprehensive. "While you was in the house with Don, I still thought about not lettin' you go. I didn't say nothin' to George about it, but I thought a lot about it. We'd be safe that way."
"Sure Ma, you'd be safe, but I don't think you'd feel very good. You'd always remember that we made a bargain and I kept my part of it."
"Yeah, I guess you're right. Still, I ain't goin' to sleep too good tonight. I'm goin' to be waitin' for that knock on the door and seein' them cops walkin' in and takin' all that money from us."
"They won't, Ma.
Jane took the old woman's hand and held it between both of hers for a moment. Not even the knowledge that those hands had been ready to kill her could spoil the warmth of the moment. She turned away quickly then.
"George," she called, "will you walk me to my car?"
"Sure thing, Lady Jane." lie hurried to his feet and took her arm as he guided her through the darkened, junk littered yard. As they walked toward the dark shapes of the old barn, she looked for words, but could find none. Perhaps they had said enough words earlier that day in the clean, sun-filled woods. Perhaps there was nothing left to say without spoiling all the good things they had shared.
He pushed the big double doors open wide and Jane saw the long black car waiting to carry her out of this unreal world back to a world of familiarity and contentment. A chill spread through her as she realized that only seconds now stood between her and freedom, between death and burial under this floor and a life of ease and luxury in her big, comfortable home. She tired to mask her fears under a smile, but knew that her efforts had failed miserably.
"The keys are in the car." As she heard the words, she realized that he, too, had difficulty finding things to say.
Jane smiled at him then and hoped he would understand all the things the smile contained.
"I guess," he continued, "you know I don't like seein' you go away like this." As if realizing that he had said something that could be misconstrued, he hurried to amend it. "I ain't goin' to stop you though."
"I know you aren't, George. I understand what you mean too and it means a lot to me. Please don't be ashamed of the way you feel, George. Just try to remember the good things. I know I will."
It was obvious that he hadn't worked things out in his mind, but he was willing to accept her parting gesture of warmth and friendship. It indicated that the things that had happened up in the hill earlier had really meant something to her. That was enough.
With a show of courtliness that was not normally part of his nature, he held the door open and watched her slide into the seat.
Moving unhurriedly, she turned the key, flicked on the lights, moved the lever into drive and felt the big car react anxiously under her. The window was still rolled down. She turned to him and looked into his face.
"Good-bye George and thanks for everything."
"Good-bye Lady Jane. Thanks."
The heavy tires bit into the dirt floor and the car began to roll out into the dark night. The headlights cut a wide swatch through the black, the car responded easily to her touch. A feeling of well-being swept over her as she felt the security and freedom of motion within the Lincoln. As she made the turn into the drive, the headlights picked up the two women who still sat on the log holding their cups.
She tapped the horn ring lightly and felt the car absorb the ruts and bumps as the gate seemed to move toward her. Beyond it, stretched a whole world of freedom and clean clothes and familiar surroundings.
Her foot pressed harder on the pedal, the car seemed to share her anxiousness to return home.
CHAPTER TWELVE
It had only been days since Jane had driven over these roads, but their was a newness about them, an unfamiliarity. It was a world she had seen somewhere a long time ago and now remembered only vaguely. When she steered the car around the last curve in the road and saw the big house set into the side of the hill, the remembered comfort poured back in a flood of warmth.
She braked to a quick stop in front of the steps and almost ran out of it. At the same moment, the front door opened and her father rushed out to meet her. There was a tearful, joyful reunion as the man's arms enfolded his daughter.
Inside the house, he led her into the big study. Even the bottles and decanters on the bar looked friendly and familiar. Jane poured a half glass of Canadian rye and filled the glass with water.
"What can I get you, Dad?"
"You start working on that, Janie, I'll think of something and look after myself."
He thought of Scotch and soda and poured a large one. Together, they walked to the couch and sat. He held his glass in his left hand, his right, looked for her hand and held it.
"I was terribly worried about you, Jane. I guess you may have thought that I wasn't much of a father, but I've always been concerned about you."
"I know that, Dad, I've always known it."
"How much do you want to tell me now, Jane? Just tell me what you want to."
"There's nothing to hide. I can tell you the whole crazy thing, Dad. But I warn you, it's going to sound like something out of the Saturday matinee."
As they sipped at their drinks, she told him the whole story. She told everything, from the kidnapping on the way to the country club, to the bazaar wedding ceremony with Don just before she left.
She had never talked to him with such frankness before and was amazed at how easy it was. There was no need for modesty, no holding back.
As her father listened, he winced, smiled, laughed, and squeezed her hand with sympathy and understanding.
"Keerist, Janie girl, I never suspected you were such a woman. I want you to know I'm real proud of you."
"Fifty thousand dollars worth of proud, Dad?"
"Now don't insult me, girl. What in hell is fifty thousand? Why there are days when I just sit on my ass and do nothing and make more than that. Do you realize just how much money we have? I could drop fifty thousand a day every day for a couple of months and not work up a sweat about it. Don't talk foolish, girl."
"Then you won't try to take it back from them? Thanks, Dad. It's very important to me."
"Now look Janie, I don't mind telling you I planned on getting you back home, then going after the bastards who gave you a hard time. Sure I was going to get my money back, but not because I need it, just because I don't like to let anyone pull one over on me. You'd like me to leave them alone, huh?"
"I know this is a lot to ask, Dad, but yes, I would. I'll find some way to pay you back."
"Pay me back? Who in hell do you think you are, some stranger or something? You're my girl, Jane, you don't pay back anything."
She told him more about the Travers family then. By the time she had finished, he didn't really understand, not the way she understood them, but he was able to accept her line of reasoning.
"You're sure now, Janie, you wouldn't like me to send someone out there and settle accounts for you?"
"Thanks Dad, I'm sure."
"Then damn it all, girl, the least we can do is have another drink."
He got up, but Jane pushed him back onto the couch. "I haven't poured you a drink in a long time, Dad, let me do it this time."
"Well now, that sounds like a real fine idea, but cut out all the talk and start pouring and make it big. I mean real big, Texas big."
"Who are you kidding, you old phony, Texans don't drink Scotch, they drink crude oil or something the coyotes make."
The rest of the evening went on in the same vein. There had always been a casual friendship between father and daughter, but now it had blossomed into something new and strong and warm.
Jane wondered where Bunny was, but she didn't want to hurt her father by asking. He knew his wife should have been there to greet their daughter and was pleased that he didn't have to talk about it. They just ignored her.
Neither was anxious to end their reunion, so they drank and chatted until close to two o'clock. After they said good night, Jane ran a deep, hot bath and soaked for a long time, luxuriating in the wonder of the sparkling room and the clear, warm, scented water.
In her room, she looked through her collection of nighties, but ruled in favor of feeling the crisp, clean sheets against her naked skin. Nude, she climbed into the big, soft bed and fell almost immediately into a deep sleep.
When she woke up, it was almost eleven. The house was quiet, so beautifully so that she was tempted to turn over and go back to sleep. She didn't though. She had been removed from the world for too long, she was anxious to get back to it.
Turning lazily in the comfortable bed, she rang for the maid. When the woman answered the call, Jane asked for toast, marmalade and coffee. For the first time in her life, she was able to appreciate the comforts of her home. Previously, she had taken them for granted.
Within minutes, the maid returned carrying a tray. Jane enjoyed eating and drinking from clean dishes again, enjoyed the flavor of good coffee, well brewed.
After breakfast, she walked to the bathroom and ran another tub. As it filled, she considered calling the maid to help her with the bath. She remembered that Carla had soft, gentle hands, that she knew no limitations when it came to bathing her. She felt her blood grow warm as she remembered previous sessions in the big tub. She remembered Carla's smooth hands spreading the rich lather over sensitive areas, forgetting the lather and continuing to stroke and rub, becoming even more intimate.
But not today, she decided. This time she would bathe alone, dress and try the trip to the country club that had been interrupted last time.
Twenty minutes later, she was in the garage. Already the big Lincoln had been washed and polished, but she didn't want to use it this time. Jane wasn't superstitious, but she still decided to use the low slung XKE instead.
This time she made it to the club without incident. If she had seen a car stalled on the road, she would have stepped on the pedal and flown by.
The same people were at the club and they were doing the same things. She stopped first at the bar for a drink. She didn't have to ask. The bartender offered her a cheery greeting, checked his watch and poured her a Bloody Mary. If it had been later, he would have poured a rye and water.
It was a good day for a round of golf. Through the window she saw a sprinkling of people on the course and another dozen chatting around the first tee as if trying to decide whether or not they had the energy to go out.
She finished her drink, picked up a rye and water and headed for the locker room. Although it seemed as though she had been away for years, nothing had changed there either. Sue Ellen, the full time lesbian was still walking around nude looking for someone to play with; Helen and Jean played what appeared to be the same game of gin rummy at the same table; Ruth was still looking for an audience to listen to how she almost made par yesterday except for the usual bad breaks. It was comforting somehow.
By the time she had changed into golfing togs, she already had a game arranged. She had been careful about whom she chose to play with today. After all she had been through, Jane was interested in a civilized, sophisticated orgy. When she heard Myra looking for a partner for a game, she knew that her answer was at hand.
On her last visit to Myra's lavish apartment, Jane had achieved a new high in her life of pleasure; she had been made love to a total of seven times in one wild evening. She didn't necessarily want to top that, but she wanted to come as close to it as possible with men who bathed and shaved and spoke English.
When Myra wondered where Jane had been lately, she was told that she would hear the story later. It wasn't a story to be wasted on a golf course, Jane decided, it required drinks, soft lights, congenial people and a background of loud jazz.
Before they putted out on the second green, Jane had made it clear that she was in the mood for a special kind of party. For a while after that, hints were dropped and swapped and felt out and fed back. While they waited to tee off on the fifth, the party was set for that evening at Myra's. Just to make sure that there was time enough to get everything planned, they agreed to call off the game after nine holes."
"After all," Myra reasoned, "when there's something so important to be planned, why mess around with silly little golf balls?"
Back in the club house, Myra adjourned to the lounge and began wearing out the phone. She spent almost an hour at it, but when she rejoined Jane in the locker room, she reported that this was going to be the party to end all parties. Knowing Myra, Jane was inclined to accept the promise.
When Myra threw what she called a quiet little party, there was a reasonable chance that it would turn out to be an orgy; when she boasted that a party was really going to swing, that was the tip-off that the ancient Romans at their best would have blushed if they had been included.
But Myra was living proof that these things don't just happen. During her apprenticeship, she had gone through three husbands, accumulated a little more than two hundred thousand dollars, enjoyed a lovely lesbian marriage and discovered that anything is possible and everything is fun. Having gained all this education, she was still just thirty-two years old and had a body that would have looked just right on a woman ten years younger.
Jane had spent a few evenings at Myra's apartment and each time had enjoyed it immensely. The first time, Myra had made a tentative pass within the first hour. Jane happened to be in the mood that evening, so she went along with it. She had not resisted as Myra eagerly stripped her naked and made reverent, passionate love to her lush young body. Jane still remembered it as her most satisfying experience with a woman.
On her other visits, the tone had been less serious. They still stripped before settling down for the evening, but the attitude was one of fun and games rather than the seriousness of lesbian love.
The pattern had changed on her last visit, a little less than a month ago. When she arrived, she found that Myra already had a female visitor. Her hostess was quick to inform her though that Zelda was a real swinger and that the three of them were going to have a ball.
Myra boasted an interesting collection of instruments which, when strapped on, could make any woman more than the equal of any man. As they romped naked that evening, they took turns being Joe the truck driver. Jane remembered that after that little session she had difficulty walking to her car. She was still sore the following day, but she had enjoyed some lovely memories.
But past was past and now Jane looked forward to a wild evening with sophisticated people, she needed that to reassure herself that people could be clean and civilized and still have fun. She had made the best of the Travers incident, but there were still a lot of memories of unclean, primitive people and unclean surroundings to be washed away.
They left the club early, agreed that it would be wise to get some sleep before the party. Much to her surprise, Jane slipped into a deep sleep without difficulty in spite of the exciting anticipation of the evening ahead.
She bathed and dressed, ate a light dinner and was ready to leave just after eight. Since her Dad did not seem to be around, she left him a note telling him that she may not be home that night, but that he was not to worry. She explained that it was just a party that could go on and on into the night. He was a very understanding daddy.
Jane arrived at the apartment a few minutes before eight-thirty. Although nothing Myra did really surprised her, it was still a bit of a jolt to see her hostess answer the door clad in bra, panties, garter belt, nylons and very high heeled black shoes.
"Myra," Jane quipped, "what a lovely hostess gown. Wherever did you get it?"
"Oh, just a simple little thing I picked up in some bargain basement."
This was an obvious untruth. There was nothing simple about the way Myra wore lingerie. The strapless black bra covered about half the area of her ripe breasts. The uncovered half promised ultimate magnificence.
Only relatively small areas of her buttocks peeked out around the edges of the panties, but they were enough to indicate a nice roundness, firm white flesh which contrasted nicely with the black nylon. About five or six inches of firm, white thigh showed between the lower edge of the panties and top of the sheer black nylons. It was just enough.
"Don't you think it would be an idea to get dressed before your guests come storming in?" Jane asked.
"Silly, I am dressed. After all, dear, this is a party. The dressing room for tonight is the spare bedroom. You are the one who had better get ready."
Jane walked into the indicated room. The first thing to meet her eyes was a large, hand painted sign which hung from the ceiling. She read it in growing amazement.
"Dress for this evening will be semi-formal."
"Hey, Myra, what is your conception of semi-formal around here?" Jane called.
"You've just seen it on me, dear," she heard Myra call back.
Jane hurried back to the living room. "Are you kidding?"
"Honey, when I stipulate informal, that means the guests start naked. Semi-formal is what I am wearing right now. I'm going to let this party start slow and easy."
Shaking her head, Jane walked back into the bedroom. When she returned to join Myra a couple of minutes later, her semi-formal ensemble consisted of pale blue bra, panties, garter belt, blue tinted nylons and high heels. She felt only a little nervous when a knock announced the first of the guests.
By nine o'clock, there were nine people on hand. The four women were dressed identically except for color, the men all wore briefs and smiles.
The full complement of guests was on hand within another twenty minutes, but Jane was still trying to get over the shock of the most recent arrivals.
"That must be Sam and his chick," Myra announced to the gathering as she moved to answer the door. "I haven't met her, but Sam guarantees she'll be the wildest item of the party."
As the couple entered, Jane ignored Sam almost completely. She was staring at his wild chick. It was Bunny.
There was only a brief lull in conversation as most of the guests knew mother and daughter.
"Janie dear," Bunny greeted her, "what a nice surprise." She embraced her daughter warmly.
A startled "Hi Bunny," was the best Jane could manage in her state of stunned surprise.
Bunny and her guests adjourned to the dressing room and the conversation level picked up again. It seemed that mother and daughter were going to go along with the party. The guests accepted it as a bonus conversation piece.
A few of the guests were smoking pot, but the majority chose conventional booze to set the mood of the evening. Regardless of method employed, the mood was quickly established.
Myra left her guests long enough to set up a movie screen at one end of the room and a projector at the other.
"Oh no," someone gasped, "not home movies. That's why I left home."
"Yes," Myra replied, "home movies. But don't be too sad dear, they are very educational and we do owe to ourselves and society to expose ourselves to educational things from time to time."
The laughter that greeted her brief speech indicated that her movies were known to the group and were not likely to be too dull.
As the guests settled around the center of the room, Myra killed the lights and flicked the projector. The screen leaped alive to show a routine looking domestic scene where a maid was bending to dust a low table. Her skirt was just a little shorter than normal and what it displayed as it rode up in back was of somewhat better than average quality.
When the woman of the house walked into the scene, she too was a beauty, although slightly older. She stopped to look at the maid, then walked quietly to her and slid her hand up under the skirt. When the maid straightened up with an angry look, the other woman flipped her skirt high over her brief panties and administered a half dozen spanks to her firm bottom.
The employer scolded the maid, then put her hand under the skirt again. There was no protest this time as the older woman led her to a couch. As the film rolled, the maid's clothes fell away until she lay naked, positioned so that nothing was hidden from the prying eye of the camera.
The other woman then undressed slowly until she too was naked. Sitting on the couch, she returned her attention to the maid. Within minutes, the two nude forms were writhing in the throes of completely abandoned lesbian passion. When it seemed that there was nothing left for them to do, a third character walked onto the screen.
This one was the husband. He took one look at the tangle of nude flesh and quickly stripped. The camera moved into close-up long enough to pay tribute to his dimensions which were considerable.
Moving to the couch, he untangled enough of the pile to find a nicely arched bottom. He drew it to him and moved in. The camera held for a long time as the male lead worked very, very hard.
When he finished his task with the first woman, he drew back, dumped her unceremoniously onto the couch and moved to the second female. Thanks to the magic of movies, his condition was undiminished as he demolished her with the same standard of magnificence.
As the projector whirred, the guests fell under the spell of what was unfolding on the screen. When Myra turned on the lights to remove the old reel and slip on a new one, her bra and panties were missing. A quick look around the room made it clear that her costume of nude flesh, garter belt, nylons and shoes was very much the fashion of the evening.
Again the lights were killed and the screen came to life. This time, a rather prim looking woman in her late thirties was the first figure to appear on the screen. She was standing beside a school desk as she spoke, scoldingly, to a half dozen teen-aged male students.
In spite of the primness of her face, her figure was a thing of splendor. Completing the scolding, she walked back to her desk, opened the drawer and removed the classic school strap. Sitting on the edge of her desk so that her dress hiked high over the tops of her nylons to dispaly lovely, firm looking thighs, she beckoned the first of the young men to her.
Nervously, he unfastened his belt and pushed his pants and shorts down until they fell in a heap at his feet. He was a very big boy. The teacher drew him across her lap, the strap rose and fell with obvious stinging effect.
One by one, the other males followed suit. When all six had been strapped, they stood semi-nude in front of the teacher, but not for long. As teacher leaned back on the desk, the first one was called to face her again. This time he knelt before her. He tossed away her discarded panties. This teacher was not so prim after all, she had some most unacademic ideas of punishment.
Before the film finished, the teacher and her students were all nude. The things that had transpired would never have been approved by the Board of Education. The audience surely did approve though. As the lights came back on, it was obvious that they were not only emulating what they had seen on the screen, they were improving far beyond it.
But, after all, there were eight men and only seven women in the group and none of them believed in strict pairings.
"All right everybody," Myra shouted above the buzz of activity, "time for the dice."
Most of the guests had attended her parties before so that they understood what she meant. They ranged into a wide circle and left room for the hostess who approached with six dice, a pencil and paper.
For the benefit of Jane, Bunny and Charlie, the newcomers to the group, Myra gave a quick rundown of the rules. High dice won absolute rights over low dice. If both winner and loser were of the same sex, the winner could choose to eliminate the low one and take next lowest. The loser had no such choice.
Sam threw first and came up with a count of thirty-two. He looked like a sure winner. When Myra threw a twenty-one it looked as though she could be low scorer. Her smile indicated that she was prepared to be a very good loser. Pete crossed her up by throwing a twenty. Sam was known as a man of very broad appetites, it was entirely possible, she realized, that he would claim the low victim regardless of sex. The other throws had no bearing on the final result.
Sam stood and walked into the center of the circle. "Come on Pete," he crowed, "let's go."
Pete blanched at the command, but he knew that at Myra's parties one didn't chicken out. Obeying orders, he knelt in the middle of the rug, circled by laughing, whispering guests who were enjoying his discomfort.
"Let's see now, Myra," Sam continued, "you were second low. You get down here beside Pete while I decide which way to take my prize."
Without a word, Myra moved to the center of the circle and knelt beside the man. Rubbing his hands and savoring the trill of victory, Sam stood beside the two nude figures who bent on hands and knees awaiting his decision.
There was a hush of anticipation as Sam dropped to his knees behind Pete, his hands fumbling at the arched buttocks. With a preparatory arching of his back, he braced for the lunge. At the last possible moment, he shifted his position so that his arms clasped around Myra's waist, his body slammed against her. He had chosen his prize. With a sigh of relief, Pete rolled away and joined the others in watching as Sam collected.
The prize collecting completed amid a chorus of rousing cheers, the group fell into a relaxed discussion based generally on the movie of the school teacher and the male student. In turn, the women described their experiences in seduction of the young, the men provided graphic descriptions of their early experiences with older women. A half hour later, while the conversation was still going strong, Myra called for another round of dice. There was a general scramble for the bar before the group settled back into a circle.
A couple of throws in the mid-twenties meant nothing. When Bunny threw a twenty-nine, there was a good chance that she could be the winner. The next throw was a twenty-seven so that when Jane took the dice, there was still plenty of room for a loser with Bunny still riding high. Jane felt a cold sweat as she prepared to throw. She didn't mind losing, in fact she looked forward to it, but not to Bunny. With an audible sigh of relief, she threw a twenty-five which assured her of being a spectator.
When Ava threw a twenty, it looked as if the game had produced a loser. The high and low scores held up so that Bunny claimed Ava as her prize. Before claiming her prize, Bunny took her time about finishing her drink.
Setting her glass down on the rug, she moved into the center of the circle and lay on her back. Her knees drew up and parted so that her choice of prize seemed more than obvious. As Ava approached, Bunny stopped her.
"Oh Ava, I believe there is a tray of rather interesting instruments on top of the bar. Bring it to me."
Without a word, Ava moved to the bar and returned with the tray. On it, ranged in order of size, was a collection of instruments which could transfer a woman into a man by the simple act of wrapping straps around the body and fastening the buckle. Taking her time, Bunny selected one of medium size. Kneeling, she fastened it around her body and looked down to admire her newly acquired maleness.
Satisfied, she motioned Ava to kneel in position. Moving with the confidence of a man, she positioned herself behind the loser, fumbled with her arched buttocks for a few moments, then pushed toward her, her hands wrapped around the young woman's middle. There was a brief gasp of pain, then the loser surrendered herself to the unnatural attack. Bunny moved with the hungry style of a greedy male. When she finally stopped, Ava was left with the feeling that she had been well used.
Myra won the next round and Jane was delighted to be the loser. On command, Jane lay flat on her back and watched as Myra knelt astride her and backed up until she was directly above. She saw the woman's body lower toward her. She met the fleshy charge and paid the forfeit. The fact that there was a group of mostly strangers watching didn't bother her at all; that her mother was one of the group only served to stimulate her. It was as if she felt impelled to prove to Bunny that she too was a swinger. As Myra bounced delightedly above her, her naked buttocks rocking with the passion of the moment, she proved her point beyond the faintest shadow of doubt.
When she felt Myra's body and thighs press and squeeze against her, Jane knew that the forfeit was about paid. She forgot about the difficulty of breathing. Instead, she worked with greater fervor, her tongue darted more insinuatingly, her fingers dug into the warm softness of curved buttocks. She felt the woman tense then fall limp, exhausted.
Myra dropped forward and supported herself on her hands above Jane. Her belly heaved as she pumped air into her body, her pendulous breasts hung full and ripe. The hush that had fallen over the group was a silent tribute to the efforts of the two women.
Jane got up slowly, flexed her arms and legs and walked to the bar. In a moment, Myra joined her.
"Whooee, baby," Myra enthused, "you are still the absolute best in the world Jane baby."
"Maybe I was just inspired," Jane smiled in reply. "Maybe I felt I had to excel."
"You did baby, and I'll bet my next ten alimony checks that mamma could take lessons from daughter."
As they laughed together, Jane silently glowed under the tribute. Somehow, she needed it. She had to know that she was not just Bunny's little girl, had to be sure that she could meet her mother on her own grounds.
When Bunny joined them at the bar, there was reluctant admiration showing in the smile she flashed at her daughter. When she spoke, the edge of sarcasm in her words was unmistakable.
"Congratulations, Jane, you have the technique of a real artist. You must have really worked at developing it."
"Thanks, mother dear. I felt I owed it to the family tradition to follow in your footsteps. I'm glad you approve."
Others moved toward the bar then and their conversation petered out. Both women dropped their guard and joined in the general conversation. There was no sign of animosity between mother and daughter as they chatted freely with the others.
When some, especially those who had neither won or lost, pressured Myra for another toss of dice, she complied. Hal was the first to leave the bar and hurry to the center of the room.
If he had become the center of attention, he didn't mind at all. He was, in fact, quite proud of it. He had borrowed a pair of black nylon panties, a garter belt and dark nylons. The only one of the group not naked, he employed an exaggerated feminine walk as he minced nervously around the room waiting for the others to take up their positions.
Jane threw first. Her twenty-three was a nothing roll. She was content to be a spectator this time. Like the others, she had enough voyeur in her to enjoy a ringside seat at a good show. Hal took the dice from her with shaking hands. He emitted a shriek of delight when the dice seemed to come to rest in a shower of fives and sixes. His score of thirty-three looked unbeatable.
The remainder of the group couldn't throw fast enough to please him. He showed disappointment when Charlie threw a twenty-four. Jane was still low with twenty-three. He held his breath as Sam took the dice. "Twenty" a couple of voices called in unison. Hal's face shone with pure, unadulterated joy.
When the round had been completed, Hal's score, was still high, Sam's was low. Sam would have preferred to have lost to a woman, but he didn't really care that much.
Hal minced into the center of the group. The exaggerated swing of his buttocks inside their nylon covering indicated his anxiousness to project his femininity to the ultimate.
He knelt on hands and knees in the center of the circle, his bottom twisting in anticipation. Sam was an old hand at Myra's parties, he knew what was expected.
Kneeling behind the man, he lowered the panties slowly over his buttocks, fumbled between them for a moment, then pushed ahead as he clutched at the bent hips.
Hal's scream of feminine outrage came as a jolt even to those who had been expecting it. Transported from the reality of the situation, Hal was a helpless female being ravished by the brutal man. He wasn't just playing a game now, he was living the role.
He begged and pleaded to be spared. As he did, his voice became more and more female until it was impossible to see him as anything but. Tears were rolling from his eyes now and the girlish cry became frighteningly real. The rape persisted for a long, long time, but his cries and pleas never stopped. Even when Sam backed away and pulled the nylon panties back into place, the victim still cried at the lost virginity.
As the group, uncomfortable now at the frightening reality of her performance, adjourned to the bar, Hal knelt up rubbing at the front of the panties. The veterans of Myra's parties knew that soon he would end his performance alone as he always did. They knew that after he did, he would return to normality. When he joined the group around the bar a few minutes later, he was naked again. One of the women would go home without her panties.
It was close to two o'clock before the climax of the evening happened. All had been waiting for it. All, including Jane and Bunny wondered what would happen when mother and daughter met in payment and collection of forfeit.
When it happened, there was a momentary hush, then a general buzz of excitement, of anticipation. They were veterans at these games, all of them, but it was the first time any had witnessed this situation.
Sensing the tension of the moment, Jane stood. Instead of moving into the center of the circle, she heightened the tension by walking slowly to the bar and refilling her glass. It was a tip to the group that this was going to be something to remember. There was a general movement to the bar as glasses were hurriedly refilled. When Jane saw that all had picked up their drinks, she walked casually to the center of the room and waited for Bunny to join her.
But if Jane was enjoying the moment of triumph, so was Bunny. If she was not really enjoying it, she was making a magnificent show of appearing to.
Still holding her glass, Jane was completely composed as she spoke.
"Hands and knees, Bunny."
The older woman placed her glass carefully on an end table and assumed the position as directed.
Taking another big drink from her glass before setting it down, Jane caught Myra's eye and motioned toward the tray which contained the selection of devices which could make her a man for the moment. Myra hurried to her carrying the indicated tray. Jane took her time about selecting one. Setting the tray down, Bunny took it from her and carefully fastened it into position. Ready now, Jane presented a startling challenge to nature.
The lush curves and mounds of her body spoke of the ultimate in femininity and gentle beauty. The artificially contrived device, on the other hand, reared with harsh masculine strength. So well had it been crafted, that it no longer appeared artificial. As Jane approached the kneeling figure, she was truly half man, half woman.
Taking her time, she knelt close to the waiting woman. Moving with surprising slowness and composure, she rubbed her hands lightly over the arched, full buttocks before her. Holding the woman around the hips, she moved closer, probed, felt the moment of penetration. Her hips moved with blinding speed, there was a blur of naked motion, then she was as close to the woman as it was possible to be.
A cry of pain escaped from Bunny's lips before she fell into the rhythm of the act. As Jane drove again and again toward the soft, writhing buttocks, she was all male, all brutality. This was primitive man taking primitive mate with the ultimate in greedy, brutal lust.
Not a sound was to be heard from the circle of watchers as the two played out their startling roles. Pain had long since passed for Bunny and had been replaced by the delicious sensation of being taken completely, roughly, wholly.
Jane too had been captured by the spirit of the situation. No longer was she performing for the group, no longer was she setting out to prove a point. She was a lust ridden animal performing the oldest ritual known to man or beast.
When Bunny's body tensed and rose in anticipation of the moment of release, Jane gripped her hips even more tightly, felt her fingers bury in the soft flesh of upper thighs. Her movements became more frenzied.
"Ah! Ah! Ah; Aaaaaaahhhh...." The sounds burst from Bunny's lips with an explosive force, then trailed away to a quiet sound of fulfillment, contentment, completion. Her body relaxed and began to fall. Jane released the grip on the woman's hips and let her go. She collapsed to the carpet, her body heaving as air forced its way into emptied lungs.
Without removing the instrument, Jane bent and helped Bunny to her feet. Together, they walked to the bar. The others followed. It had been planned as an all-night orgy, but it was obvious now that the party was over. After what had just happened, there was nothing left.
All drank greedily, all knew that it was the end of an exciting party.
"Are you going home now?" Bunny asked her daughter.
"Yes." Jane answered without particular inflection.
"If you brought your car, I'll join you. God knows, Sam's finished for the night and so am I."
Jane laughed. "It's out front, Bunny. I guess we've both had enough for one night.
As Jane stopped to thank Myra for the party, she saw Bunny talking to Sam. He did not seem at all disappointed. Mother and daughter dressed together, said their goodnights and walked out together.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
As she drove home, Jane was completely relaxed. The liquor she had consumed could have been enough to affect her driving, but the frenzied activity of the evening had worn off most of the intoxication. Bunny too, in spite of all she had drunk, seemed composed, relaxed.
Long before they reached the house, it became obvious that mother and daughter had reached a new rapport. There would always be a measure of resentment between them, the normal resentment of youth and maturity, but something new had been born during the debauchery of the party. There was a mutual respect now, a mutual understanding.
No longer would there be the resentment of mother and daughter, they were two women now. As two women, they had forged a new bond of understanding. It would never develop into the love or warmth that can grow between mother and daughter, but it would represent a new status for them, it would be a big improvement over what they had known in the past.
When Bunny asked about Jane's whereabouts during the past few days, the girl gave her a quick rundown without naming names or places.
Bunny was intrigued with both George and Don, especially after the rather graphic description her daughter had given.
"Jane," she asked anxiously, "why don't the two of us go out there one of these days and really throw a party for them?"
"No, Bunny. I've thought of going back, but I really think it would be wiser to consider the whole thing a closed chapter. I could be buried under the floor of the barn right now, I still don't like to think about it too much."
Jane had told her about the wedding ceremony with Don. Her mother couldn't take her mind away from it.
"Just imagine Jane. We could make it a double ceremony. He could have two brides. Maybe we could even include the other one. All four of us could consummate the ceremony in one bed. Think of it Janie," Bunny persisted, "what a ball that could be."
Jane did think of it, but how could she tell her mother that somehow, the Travers deserved something better, in spite of their poverty and ignorance and dirt, than to be exposed to the continuing depravity of the wealthy, sophisticated, depraved Lowells.
Bunny, she knew, wouldn't understand. She would consider herself in the role of Lady Bountiful as she dropped her expensive clothes and bared her greedy body to the uncultured hicks.
Jane could just imagine her mother telling the story to her friends at all her parties.
"Oh my dears," she could hear her boasting, "you should have seen the absolute adoration in the eyes of those country boys when they saw me in my bra and panties.
"I thought they'd just explode when I unfastened my bra and pulled one cup away. They wanted to do everything to me, just everything."
There would, Jane knew, be much more detail as she recounted the story. Some of it would be accurate, much more would be manufactured. In time the old farm would become a fashionable meeting place for Bunny and her jaded society friends.
Jane felt a strange sense of obligation to the Travers family.
She owed them nothing and yet she cared too much about them to expose them to the influence of Bunny and her crowd.
"Isn't Dad going to wonder where you've been?" Jane asked to change the subject.
"I'm surprised at you Jane. Just when I thought you were really grown up, you ask a childish question like that."
Jane wished she hadn't asked.
"Your dear father doesn't ask me about what I do and I don't bother him. Do you realize how many lovely young things he keeps in fancy apartments in town?"
Instinctively, Jane resented what her mother was saying. She knew the charges were true, but still she resented it. It was as if the woman was saying "look baby, that old man of yours is no angel. Sure, we're a couple of hot pants bitches, but he's no better than we are."
They switched the conversation back to the party then and their new status was reaffirmed. They discussed various activities and people. As they compared notes, they laughed and talked excitedly.
"Hall?" Bunny laughed, "he's the queer life of every party. No matter what kind of a party it is, Hal always manages to latch onto a pair of panties and get his kicks."
"A really way out queer?"
"Hell no. When he's not in that mood, Hal is more man than most guys I've known. When you finish a session with that boy you really know you've had a workout, baby.
As the car pulled into the drive, they were discussing mutual friends. It developed that they had met many people under the same circumstances. It was a strange sensation for Jane, it made her feel a little nervous thinking that the man who had shared her bed one night was sharing one with Bunny the next.
As they pulled into the garage, Bunny made one last try to interest Jane in a visit together to the farm where she had been held. Jane's refusal was adamant.
They walked into the house together, shared a nightcap together and went off separately to their bedrooms. Bunny sounded a little triumphant later as she stopped outside Jane's door and announced that the old man wasn't home yet.
Jane didn't get the message though, she was already sound asleep.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Jane had returned to the familiar life with a vengeance. Over the next few weeks, life was a continuing round of drinking, golf and sex. She attacked all with an equal vengeance and achieved a measure of excellence in all departments.
Convinced that Jane could not be shaken in her determination to keep her away from the offbeat farm family, Bunny took to driving the back roads, stopping at various farms for a drink of water, help with her car, or anything she could think of.
She never did find the Travers farm, but she did manage to find a lot of fun and left a lot of farmers feeling that a generous fate had stepped in to drop a lovely bonus into their dull lives.
As she developed her new hobby, Bunny began to take female friends along with her so that her casual visits to farm workers in the back fields eventually grew into orgies of splendid stature. In her circle, it became the thing to do. It was discussed at their unusual parties, over cocktails at the most fashionable watering spots, and everywhere the group met.
Jane had remained firm in her decision to leave the Travers family alone. Still, she couldn't help wondering what the fifty thousand dollars had done.
It was about a month after her departure when her curiousity got the better of her. She just had to know.
Wheeling the XKE out of the garage, she drove fast along the familiar dirt roads until the Travers farm loomed up ahead. Cutting her speed, she approached the farm slowly, looking for something, although she didn't know exactly what.
The first thing she noticed was that the junkyard look was gone. Making sure that there was no one around to see her, she stopped the car to take a closer look.
She saw then that the junk wasn't really gone, it had just been gathered into a pile in one corner of the front yard. Still, it was an improvement.
She drove slowly toward the front drive wondering if she would see any of the family. She didn't but what she did see was enough to cause her to hit the brakes and pull the car to a sharp stop.
On the post at the side of the drive was a crudely painted sign. It read, "Lady Jane Farm."
Somewhere, they had seen carefully tended farms decorated with names, they had copied the idea. It was a tribute from a crude, uncultured people to a woman who had come from another world and brought something new into their life.
Accepting it for what it was, she started the car and began to drive on. As she made the turn along the far side of the farm, she saw a movement in the field. Slowing down, she looked and saw George and Don walking behind the tired old horse. They were plowing.
The Travers farm would never be a showpiece, she realized, but in spite of their windfall, they were making an effort to work the old place again.
Driving away quickly, she brushed at her eyes. She was confident that the family would fall back into their usual pattern, but for a little while at least, they were doing something. That was good enough.
