The juke box was sad now and Tommy pressed Carol tightly against him and they moved slowly around the floor.
"Let me take you home," he said. "But you know I'm with Robert," she said. "He's getting too drunk to take you home," Tommy said.
"Well, it still wouldn't be right," she said.
He twirled her around slightly. She felt his breath on her face. He brushed her ear with his lips and held her tighter.
She would like for Tommy to take her home, she told herself. Dammit, why did she have to have a date with Robert when she wanted to be with Tommy? Now they played that sad record and she wanted Tommy to take her home. Then why did she hesitate? Her father certainly would not.
"We'll see, Tommy," she said, as the record ended.
As they walked across the crowded dance floor to the their table, Carol saw the fat man she had met earlier in the week walking toward them. She stopped and turned to him.
"How are you tonight, Miss Hayes?" he said.
"I'm all right," she said. She knew he was going to say something about her father.
"Who is this, Carol?" Tommy asked.
"Someone who says he knew my father a long time ago," she said.
"I knew him when he first came to town," the man said. "I was one of the people he used to get where he is today."
Carol stared at the man a moment. At the fat face and the washed-out blue eyes. "Let's sit down," she said to Tommy.
"I know you don't want to hear anything about your father," the man said, stepping so near she could smell the putrid whiskey on his breath. "But you ought to know how he stepped on me to get ahead. And how ruthless he is."
Tommy stepped between Carol and the man. "That's enough," he said. "She obviously doesn't want to talk to you. If you have any complaint against Mr. Hayes, then take it up with him."
He put his arm around Carol, and they shoved their way back to their table. The other people at the table were drunk and loud and suddenly Carol felt tired. The whole room vibrated with the noise and drinking. She had felt good. Then they played that sad song on the juke box, and she talked to the fat man and started worrying about Robert and her father and all.
Oh, hell, she said to herself. She wished Robert would get up and go home and leave her alone. She liked dancing with Tommy. liked having her body pressed against him. liked his warm breath on her face. She glanced over at him. He was watching her and she smiled. He had been trying to date her since she came home for summer vacation, but she would not go out with him.
Carol realized that Robert had been sitting quietly for a couple of minutes, staring forward with glassy eyes. He shook his head suddenly, and turned to her.
"I think we'd better be going," he said, as he stood up.
She took a long swallow of a drink before standing up. "I just don't feel like leaving," she said.
"Well, Carol," he started. His words were blurred.
"You know how that is, sometimes, don't you?" she said.
"Look, I need some fresh air," he said. "Let's walk outside for a minute."
He took her hand and they walked to the door and down the steps. They stood in the parking lot and he shook his head and breathed deeply.
"Are you sure you're in a condition to drive?" she asked.
"I'm all right Carol," he said. "Just needed some air. But I don't know about leaving you down here. A place like this. I mean, we had a date."
"I don't feel like leaving, dammit," she said.
"I can always tell when you have trouble with your father," he said.
"What do you mean?" she asked. She did not want to think of her damn father now. She would catch enough hell tomorrow about missing dinner tonight.
"I really dig you, Carol," he said. "You're a damn fine chick. Most of the time. But not after trouble with your father. What was it this time?"
"It's none of your damn business," she said. "And you're too drunk to be coherent, anyway."
"Oh, I'm sober enough," he said. "Come on, baby. Don't pull that bitch stuff with me. If you don't want me to take you home, okay. But let's be honest with each other. If you want somebody else to take you home, or if you have some daddy hang-up, just tell me. We've known each other too long for you to come on like this."
For an instant she was angry with him, and she stepped back. But he was smiling, and she had to smile too.
"Damn you, you know me too well," she said.
He put his hand on her cheek. "It hurts me that you'd rather be with someone else," he said.
She stepped into his arms and felt comfortable and safe. He kissed her gently, but she forced his mouth open with her lips, and worked her tongue against his. She knew she would let him take her home now. She had rather be with Tommy. He would be more exciting. But she felt safe with Robert. She had to admit to herself that was why she would not date Tommy. Robert would not hurt her in any way. She never wanted another man to hurt her.
Robert was squeezing her buttocks and she traced a fingernail across the edge of his ear, then she pulled away from his lips. "We'd better not go any further here," she said.
"Yes, you're right," he said. "Do you want something else to drink? Should I get a bottle to take with us?"
"That's a good idea," she said. "More gin. And lots of ice."
"Okay, I'll be right back," he said.
She watched him walk away. He was good-looking. And well-built. Most any woman would be happy to go out with him. But it was not his physical assets that had changed her mind. It was that she could control him. She was afraid of a man as confident and self-possessed as Tommy. He was too much like her father.
She turned and looked past the cars to the lake. The night was clear and the full moon was reflected in the smooth water. The swamp across the lake was dark and still.
Robert was taking his time. She kicked at the gravel and thought of walking over and waiting in the car. A sudden noise at the side of the building startled her. But she recognized the voice immediately: it was Ethel, the owner of the bar.
"How are you tonight, Carol?" Ethel asked.
"I always feel good when I'm out here," Carol said.
Ethel walked slowly, her hands in the flowered print smock she always wore. Carol watched as she shuffled her heavy body forward. She wondered how old Ethel was.
"Always glad to see you," Ethel said. A cigarette hung from her thick lips. "We're doing a good business, but it gets hot inside. He had to get out and get some air."
"You always do a good business," Carol said.
"We do all right, honey," Ethel said. "But you never can tell, way the sheriff's been acting up."
"What has he been doing? Carol asked.
"Well, you know, I stay open all night, after all the other places close up," Ethel said. "Done it ever since I been in business. And I stayed open on Sunday. We got this new reform sheriff now, and he wants me to close same as everybody else. But I been stalling him off, and I reckon it'll blow over."
"I sure hope so," Carol said.
"Say, honey, how come your daddy never comes out here?" Ethel asked.
Carol shrugged. "I guess he's too busy working," she said. "Lucky for me he doesn't come here."
"Guess he is too busy making money from what I hear," Ethel said. "I hear lots of things about him, honey, and most of them not nice. But long as he don't bother me, I wish him luck. At least, I guess you have lots of freedom since he's so busy."
Carol snorted out a laugh. "Oh, I have all the freedom from my father I want," she said.
"How long has your mother been dead, honey?" Ethel said.
"Ten years," Carol said.
Ethel started to speak, but checked herself as a loud, angry shout burst from the building behind her.
"Sounds like somebody's starting trouble," she said. "Guess I better get back inside."
"Good night," Carol called, as Ethel turned and waddled toward the building, her fat buttocks flapping up the smock as she moved.
And an instant later Carol saw Robert come out, with a bottle of gin and a bag in his hand.
"What's wrong?" she asked. "What's happening inside?"
"Oh, nothing," he said. "Some drunk tried to start a fight. Usual nightly happening at Ethel's."
He took her hand, and they picked their way across the crowded parking lot to his car, and climbed in. Carol sat silently and stared at the lake as Robert drove off, the tires squealing in the gravel.
Carol was watching the light down the river, when she felt Robert's hand on her neck again. She stiffened an instant as he kissed her lips softly. Then she twisted her head away.
She wondered what her father would say, if he could see her now, parked out here. The old bastard, she said to herself. She remembered the argument they had had in the afternoon. And she remembered looking up into his eyes, then turning away. He had insisted she have dinner with him. Something special. But she had not gone home for dinner. Maybe he did not need her, but dammit, she could show him she did not need him, either.
As Robert's lips brushed her cheek, she closed her eyes for an instant. Then she looked out into the swamp-darkness, and asked herself why she always thought of her father. Because he never thought of her. That was for sure.
She felt warm and sort of funny. Bobby was pressing his lips against hers, and pulling her body against his. She turned her face and kissed him, and flicked her tongue between his lips.
She wanted him to hold her tightly, and want her, and need her. She felt like crying.
Then she tore her lips from Robert's mouth, and gently but firmly shoved him away. "I told you I didn't want to park and pet and all," she snapped. "I just don't feel like it, Robert. Now, you promised."
"I know, Carol," he said, and she could tell he was breathing heavily. "But you're so provocative and lovely, I can't resist you."
"Thank you for the compliment, sir," she said. "But I think we'd better be going. Now please don't argue, Robert."
"If you insist," he said, and slid over and started the car and backed up to the rutted trail.
Carol flicked the light on and leaned over and looked into the rear-view mirror. She dabbed lipstick on her full, puffed-out lips, then stared a moment at her oval face and large green eyes, framed by the short-cropped, chestnut hair. Then she turned the light off and watched the dark but inviting swamp slide by her window.
She thought of her father. Why couldn't she be like him? Be content and ruthless and not need anyone. Why was she being weak again?
She asked herself why men were always hurting women. Her father mistreating her mother. And now not feeling anything for her, even though she was his only child.
She glanced at Robert from the corner of her eye, and told herself that men could be hurt, too. She could have petted with Robert, and worked him up, and had him begging her to make love. She had done that with boys, and had thought of doing it tonight.
As Robert slowed down, then stopped at the intersection with the road to town, she told herself she always felt terrible when she did that to boys. Yet she wondered when she would ever be able to make love to a man again, and not be afraid of being hurt, or of being abused and used and find out that the man was as unfeeling as her father.
"How about something to eat?" Robert asked, as he turned onto the road.
"What?" she asked. "Oh, sure, that would be nice." She slid across the seat, and kissed his cheek gently. "Please forgive me for my bad mood tonight," she said, softly.
"Sure, Carol, I understand," he said. "I guess actually I'd be disappointed if you weren't in one of your special moods."
"Next time, it will be better," she said. But she moved back to her side of the car, and smiled to herself and knew that next time it would be exactly the same. And maybe always the same, as far as men were concerned.
CHAPTER TWO
Walter Hayes picked absently at the lobster for a full minute before nibbling another bite. Then he took a deep swallow of cool white wine. Behind him, the large clock chimed nine times. He ate from the lobster again, not enjoying it, but feeling he should eat something.
The tall candles fluttered in the breeze from the open windows. The flickering candle-flames cast shadows on the walls and reminded Hayes how lonely he felt.
He looked down the long table at the unused setting, and wondered where Carol could be. Elnora had prepared lobster especially for Carol, because he knew she liked it and was always complaining that she could not get good lobster at school. And she had promised to be home for dinner.
He had spoiled her. She took everything for granted. He drank the wine. Pushed the lobster away. He had spoiled her badly since Doris died.
He walked from the room, rapidly down the long hallway to the den. He poured bourbon into a glass, and added ice and a little water. Then he sank down onto the couch.
He felt better. He had been foolish to worry during dinner, just because Carol did not come home. He had to admit he was disappointed and upset that she did not appreciate the things he did for her.
He leaned forward and put the glass on the coffee table. He slowly looked around the room. At the dark wood paneling. The bar. The fireplace. The shelves of books, from floor to ceiling. Distinguished old books he had bought in one lot from a dealer in New Orleans. He had never read any of them. He did not have time for reading. But they looked good here in his house.
Carol read the books sometimes. But she had time for that sort of thing. He shook his head. She had time for anything she wanted. Did she not realize that when he was her age, he had nothing? Did she not understand how he had worked to be sitting in this room tonight? No, she did not. She was spoiled and selfish. He would have to teach her. Perhaps take her car away again.
There was a knock at the door.
"Come in," he said, turning around.
It was Elnora. "Phone for you, Mister Walter," she said.
"Who is it, Elnora?" he asked. "Miss Michelle," Elnora said.
Michelle. Hayes squeezed the glass once more. She was back. He could go to her this minute. Forget everything with her fantastic body. But dammit. Why did he think he needed her? Michelle or Carol? Or anybody in this damn town. He did not get where he was today by needing people.
"Mister Walter, what do you want me to tell her?" Elnora asked.
"Just a damn minute, Elnora," he said.
He should finish the work he brought home. It had been a mistake to get so upset by Carol's not coming home for dinner.
"Tell her I can't--. "
He thought of the long loneliness of the dining room. Of going to bed alone. He pictured Michelle's body. The breasts and buttocks beneath her sheer nightgown.
"Tell her I'm on my way over," he said. He would see her. But just for the sex. That was the only way he needed her. Just someone to make love to.
Hayes swirled the ice in his drink and watched Michelle work. She wore a sheer blue robe with nothing beneath it. She was cleaning the living room, and each movement accentuated some part of her body. She turned from him to pile up some magazines, and her buttocks arched suddenly as she leaned over. They were large and lovely and the flimsy cloth merely highlighted their roundness. Then she turned and emptied an ashtray. As she bent down, her breasts pressed against the robe so sharply it seemed her pointed nipples would pierce the cloth. When she twisted to put books on a shelf, the robe was pulled apart below the waist. It did not show everything. But it so provocatively shadowed her thighs that Hayes leaned forward and sipped from the drink.
She turned suddenly and smiled. Wiggled her hips slightly. "Caught you staring," she said.
He looked directly into her green-tinted brown eyes. "I wasn't hiding the way I looked at you," he said. "You know I never hide what I do."
She shifted her weight and stood with one hand on her hip "Except what happens between us," she said.
"Don't start that again, Michelle," he said. "That's different from other things in my life."
"Because of that damn daughter of yours," Michelle said. Her smile twisted into a scowl. "Do you think I'm something to be ashamed of? Every time I bring that girl up, you change the subject. She's what stands between anything happening with us."
"Dammit, Michelle," Hayes said. "I take damn good care of you. I didn't come over here to listen to you bitch about Carol or hint about marriage." He finished his drink and put it on the floor.
She sat down on the couch with her legs wide and her robe open. Then she lazily crossed her legs, and rubbed up one of them to the inside of her thigh.
"I'll change the subject," she said, smiling wickedly at his obvious excitement. She leaned forward so that her breasts fell out. But not down. They were proud and firm. The piercing nipples were visible beneath the thin robe.
"Have you missed me?" she asked.
Hayes reached Michelle in two giant strides. He jerked her to her feet and crushed her body to his. His heart raced at the feel of that body. Touching him in so many places. The breasts goaded him as she rolled them against his chest. He pulled her head back and sought her lips.
They kissed violently. There was no tenderness. He cupped her buttocks and pressed his body to her. She clawed at his back.
She pulled from his lips. "Let's go into the bedroom," she said.
He smothered the words in her mouth, an artless kiss of tongue and lips and saliva. With his hands on her buttocks, he lifted her off the floor, and they stumbled back onto the couch. He caught himself with a hand to keep from crushing her with his bulk. He only hesitated a moment, then sank down onto her.
He ripped the robe from her breasts, shredding it with his huge fingers.
"It's new," she mumbled.
"To hell, I'll buy you two more," he said, lowering his mouth to suck the surging breasts. The nipples hardened to his tongue, and he wallowed his face around, trying to touch all the loveliness and excitement of both breasts.
In a moment, he moved up and kissed her lips, his hand replacing his mouth on the taut nipples, mashing, then rubbing.
They kissed for a long while, half crazy. She streaked his back with her fingernails. As he shed his clothes, she folded her legs together.
"Are you glad I'm back?" she gasped, her breath wheezing out.
His hand moved her legs apart violently. "Geezus, yes," he said. "Can't you tell?"
Then he was with her, and the couch sagged. He worked furiously and totally, as he worked at everything in his life. Worked with the ruthlessness that had always marked him. A big woman. Beautiful and big, the way I like them, he told himself in a last rational moment.
CHAPTER THREE
Hayes stood on the steps that led down from the house, and watched the party on the patio. The night was dark, but the floodlights on the back of the house bathed the patio in bright light. People talked in small groups or danced in the area between the combo and the portable bar.
The talk and the laughter were loud as the alcohol worked. From time to time, people looked up at Hayes and he nodded at them. He smoked leisurely, his left hand in his jacket pocket, and looked over the crowd, back to the weeping willow trees dim in the darkness by the lake.
"Okay, Mose," Hayes said.
Then walking toward the bar he watched his bartender, old Mose, pour a double shot of Jack Daniel's over several cubes of ice in a glass in anticipation of Hayes' wishes. Hayes, taking the drink, smiled slightly as he turned and faced the crowd. The most important people in town were at his party, and he did not care a damn if one of them lived or died. Oh, they probably felt the same way about him. But they could not afford to let him know it, as they would if he had stayed as poor as the day he hitch-hiked into town during the depression. He was still an outsider. But anybody who crossed him now, he busted. He had reached all of his goals, and he had done it all alone. Now he owed nothing to anyone and needed no one.
The combo was playing a fast number and the couples were twisting. A short, fat man glanced over at Hayes, then came through the crowd to the bar.
"Good evening, Arthur," Hayes said.
"Fine party," the man said. He took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. "Getting too old to dance on a hot night like this."
"Have something to drink," Hayes said. "What would you like? Bourbon...? "
Hayes trailed the words off and a coldness jabbed his back. Back through the crowd by the combo, he saw Michelle. She wore a fire-red, low-cut dress, and everyone was staring at her. Hayes swallowed.
He turned to Mose. "Have you seen Carol?" he asked.
"Not for a while," Mose said. "She was in a funny mood last time I saw her. You know, she gets into them moods sometimes, Mister Walter."
"Yes, I know," Hayes said. He looked up at her window. Still dark. Damn Michelle. Why had she come? Was she going to cause him trouble? What would Carol say if she knew he was involved with someone like Michelle?
The music ended and as Mose fixed him another drink, he watched Michelle walk across the patio. She was followed by Ted Knapp, who worked at the bank. And Hayes, despite his anger, could not help but be excited at the way that red material hugged her hips, and the low-cut, tight top almost squeezed her breasts out of the dress.
When she came to him, he smelled her perfume, and he licked his lips and felt a little warm. She was smiling. "Great party, Mr. Hayes," Knapp said. "Do you know
Michelle Martin? She's new in town and her husband was killed in that unfortunate accident out at the interchange a few months ago."
"Why, no, I've never met Mr. Hayes," Michelle said, stepping forward. She extended her hand, and Hayes took it.
"I'm glad to meet you, Mrs. Martin," he said.
"I'll get you that drink, Michelle," Knapp said, and walked to the bar.
"You do that," Hayes said, over his shoulder. When he turned back to Michelle, his black eyes were deeply intense. "You've got some damn nerve to come here," he said. "You know I told you never to come to my home."
"Lower your voice, dear," she said. She took her hand from his. "My curiosity got the best of me. And I decided to take the chance. But don't worry. I'm very cool and no one will know anything about us."
"I'll have your rear end for this stunt," Hayes said.
She smiled and shifted her weight, wiggling her hips a little. "You can have any part of me you want, darling," she said.
"Don't play games with me, Michelle," he said. "Nobody crosses me. And you'll find that out."
"Darling, you really scare me," she said. She cocked her head and pouted. "But I'm sure we can work things out later."
"Dammit, just get out of here," Hayes said. He tried to check his rising anger. Suddenly, Knapp was back.
Hayes silently cursed him as he gave Michelle a gin and tonic and they started talking. Two couples came over and asked Hayes where Carol was. Hayes talked to the group a minute about how hot it was getting.
Then he stalked to the bar. "Another drink. Mose," he said.
"Now you know I was trying to get you to drink and catch up with the other folks," Mose said.
"Shut up and give me a damn drink, Mose," Hayes said. He clinched and unclinched his huge hands at his sides. He was angry and felt helpless. He realized he did not want to fight with Michelle. He did not care if anyone else here lived or died. But the sudden thought of being without Michelle frightened him in a way he did not understand. He took the bourbon and gulped it.
He had driven himself for twenty-five years to get to the point he was at tonight. All those years of fighting and clawing he had told himself he needed no one. Now, Michelle could get to him this badly. Michelle and Carol. Damn them both. He finished the drink and ordered another one, pouring it down quickly, and half-consciously glanced from Michelle to Carol's dark window.
CHAPTER FOUR
Carol stared, from the window of the dark den, at the party below on the patio. A thin breeze blew from the lake, and fluttered the bottom of her dress. The wind felt good on her warm skin, and she pulled her skirt up and let the air cool her sweating thighs.
She put her skirt down and drank from her gin and tonic. She saw her father arguing with that fat Arthur Summers. Her father was obviously upset and she could tell his black eyes were burning.
She would have to go back outside soon. Her father expected her to be the proper little hostess. But she was sick of this life, this day to day existence of being unhappy, and knowing how little her father cared for her.
And she was tired of her cowardice concerning men. She swore to herself that next time Tommy asked her, she would go out with him. She really liked him, and was determined to take a chance with him.
She bolted from the window. Put her glass on the bar. Ran down the dark hall and out onto the back steps.
The light dazzled her as she walked down to the patio. She took each step carefully and realized she was unsteady on her feet. At the bar, she ordered a gin and tonic from Mose.
Mose shook his head. "Miss Carol, where you been?" he asked. "Your daddy's been worried about you and he's mad and upset about something. You know what happens when he gets like that. What you want to get one of your moods and go running off for? Don't you know he's proud of you and wants to show you off to these folks?"
"Are you going to fix me a drink or do I have to go back into the house to get one," she said. "I know damn well my father wants to exhibit me as evidence of his success."
"Alright, Miss Carol," he said. He fixed the drink and handed it to her. "Carol, darling."
Carol turned at her name. It was Mrs. Wallace with Mrs. Saunders and Mr. Winslow.
"How are you tonight?" Carol said, forcing a smile. "I hope you're enjoying the party."
"Oh, your father always gives a wonderful party," Mrs. Saunders said.
"That's a lovely green dress you have on," Mrs. Wallace said. "It goes so well with your coloring. Don't you think this dress was made just for her, Edith?"
"It's just perfect," Mrs. Saunders said.
"We've missed you this evening," Mrs. Wallace said. Her attempted smile could not cover the snide ripple of her mouth.
She is reaching the point where all those expensive cosmetics can not cover the wrinkles, Carol told herself. She sipped her drink.
Geezus, but she hated this hypocritical politeness with people who disliked her father and her. The music was loud and she was hot.
"You have a lovely home here, dear," Mrs. Wallace said. "So much nicer and larger than the one you had, oh, where was it? Down on Oak Street, by the brick-yard?"
Mr. Winslow took Mrs. Wallace by the arm. "Let's go for some air," he said softly. "You've been drinking too much."
Carol watched them. Everyone in town knew they were having an affair. But Mrs. Wallace pulled from his arm and turned to Carol, with her snide, wrinkled smile.
"We haven't seen you out at the country club much this summer," she said. "It's so pleasant out there, you really ought to drop out more often. Especially after your father tried so long to get in."
Carol told herself to be calm, and she took a drink of the gin and felt the heat and heard the loud music. She smiled at Mrs. Wallace but did not answer.
"Well, what have you been doing this summer, sweetie?" Mrs. Wallace said, raising her voice.
Carol looked very deliberately from Mrs. Wallace to Mr. Winslow and back to Mrs. Wallace. Her smile now was open and broad.
"Oh, I've probably been doing the same thing you have, Mrs. Wallace," she said in an even voice. "Only with more discretion."
She stared at the woman long enough to see her mouth fall open. Then she walked back to the bar. Damn all of them, she said to herself. Why her father would fight for twenty-five years to be on a par with a wrinkled old bitch like that, she would never know.
Mose was fixing her a drink when her father came up. Without looking directly at him, she could tell his black eyes still blazed. Suddenly, she was scared, and felt lonely.
"What the hell did you say to Mrs. Wallace?" her father asked. "She just stormed off and went home. Don't you know the woman is my guest?"
Carol took the drink from Mose and looked up at her father. "The woman dislikes you and dislikes me, daddy," she said. "I couldn't stand there and listen to her."
"And where the hell have you been the past hour?" he asked.
She looked away from him. She did not feel like fighting. "I was inside, daddy," she said. "I didn't feel well."
"Are you sick?" he asked.
She looked at him. Thought what a big man he was. "Yes, daddy, I'm sick of all these people who hate you and who hate me and sick of having to be hypocritical with them."
He shook his head. "Carol, don't give me any trouble tonight," he said. The intensity in his voice matched that in his eyes, and Carol sensed the danger in pushing him when he was like this.
"I'm sorry, daddy," she said. "I won't cause anymore trouble tonight. I'll be a good hostess for you."
"You look lovely," he said. "You picked out a beautiful dress." He was trying to soften his voice with her, she could tell. But he was not able to. Sometimes, it was pitiful when he forced himself to be gentle. "Your mother would be proud of you," he said. "You have to take her place, you know. You're the woman of the family now. No longer a girl."
Her mother. She drank the gin. Checked the laugh and felt it choke in her throat. She would not let herself think of her mother tonight. All the times she had remembered her mother breaking down and crying and whining in front of her father. But that was one thing she had never done and she would not do now.
She got another drink and circulated among the guests. She smiled and talked politely and flirted a bit in an innocent way that pleased everyone. She was standing by the bar when Ted Knapp, who worked in the bank, came to her. He was with the woman in the red dress who danced so well.
"Carol, this is Michelle Martin," he said. "She wondered who you were, and I said I'd introduce you. Michelle, this is Carol Hayes."
"So you're Mr. Hayes' daughter," the woman said.
Carol nodded. "Yes'm, I am," she said. "And I'm glad to meet you. Are you new in town?"
"I've lived here a few months," the woman said.
It took Carol a few seconds to realize she was staring at the woman, and that it was her turn to speak. But there was something strange in the way the woman looked at her, and she could not take her eyes away.
"Ted, dear, would you get me something to drink?" the woman finally said.
"I'd be glad to," he said. "How about you, Carol?"
"No, thank you," Carol said.
"I've heard a good deal about your father, but nothing about you, Carol," the woman said as Knapp left.
Carol shrugged. "I guess I rather pale in interest when compared with my father," she said.
"Oh, I doubt that," the woman said. "You're a lovely girl, and I'm sure there are many interesting things about you."
"Thank you, Mrs. Martin," Carol said. She looked back into the woman's eyes, and again was held by them. There seemed to be a genuine interest and kindness there, and Carol felt the woman liked her.
"Please call me Michelle," the woman said. "I'm not so much older than you."
"Alright, Michelle," Carol said, looking down into her drink. "I was watching you dance earlier, and you were by far the best dancer here."
"That's kind of you," Michelle said. "Well, it looks like our little talk is over. Here's Ted with my drink. But I hope we can talk again, soon."
"So do I, Michelle," Carol said. "I really mean it. All night, I've been hostessing and talking to people and you're the only one I've really enjoyed being with."
"Here you are, Michelle," Knapp said, handing her the drink.
"I better start circulating again," Carol said. "Or my father will be angry with me. In fact, I see him coming this way now."
She turned from the couple. Her father was not only coming toward her. He was shoving people out of the way to get to her. She took a long, quick drink to fortify herself.
"Why the hell aren't you circulating?" her father said. "You've been talking to those people a' long time."
"What's wrong, daddy?" she said. He was angrier than he had been earlier. Surely it was not anything she had done. She had been pleasant and certainly had not caused any trouble.
"Why were you talking to them so long?" he said. The music was loud and he had to shout to make himself heard. "What did you talk about?"
"We just talked, daddy," she said. "Not about anything. Do you have something against Mr. Knapp? I never know."
He started to speak but checked himself, and she noticed he was clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides. What could she have done?
"Don't you ever know the right thing to do, young lady?" he said. "When I need you most, I can never depend on you. You've been spoiled, and you have no sense of responsibility. You might as well not have come."
The anger of his words stunned her. She realized there was no more music and people were staring at her. Her eyes were watering and there was a lump in her throat. She raised her head and firmed her lips and walked slowly back to the house. She would be damned if she would give these people the satisfaction of seeing her break down.
When she got inside the house, she collapsed against the wall and cried uncontrollably. She hated him. She had tried to do what he wanted and he had talked to her like that. She hated him and never wanted to see him again. No matter what she did, he always hurt her.
She brushed the tears away, and dragged herself up the stairs to her room. As she sank to the bed, and started crying again, she told herself she wanted desperately to change things, and to date Tommy, and have him want and need her, and she was willing to risk whatever happened with him.
CHAPTER FIVE
Carol danced to the window. The music was soft and she felt good. Relaxed after the strain of the past few days with her father. He had not been the same since the party. And that was a night she wanted to forget.
She heard Tommy in the kitchen, mixing their drinks. She stared absently out the window at the cars humming past on the rain-wet street. Then she turned and looked about the room. Three large bullfight posters in bright colors offset the white wall. A large room, with Tommy's desk, cluttered with law books and briefs, over by the huge bay window on the other side.
Obviously a one-room-with-kitchen-and-bath bachelor's apartment, in which the couch turns into a bed. There had been clothes and books scattered about when they came in. Tommy had apologized and scooped things up and thrown them into the closet. He had not expected her to come to his apartment tonight.
Tommy stuck his head in from the kitchen. "I'm out of lime. Lemon do?"
"Lemon is fine, Tommy," she said.
He was back in an instant, and gave her the drink. She sipped it. The lemon did change the taste slightly.
He put his drink down, and tightened his hand and pulled her to him. He kissed her softly on the cheek. He had done that earlier. She brushed his ear with her lips, then turned to look from the window. The room was dim with one indirect light, and the music floated softly in the early morning quietness.
"Are you as good a lawyer as people say?" Carol asked. "You have some reputation in town. And in such a short time. I hear friends of my father talking about you. You sure you're not too persuasive?"
He put his hand on her waist again. Her body tingled as he inched the hand around, and held her just below her breast.
"Let's see how persuasive I can be," he said.
He bent around and kissed her lips. His hand gripped her breast and he turned her to him and ground the kiss into her mouth, his tongue surging through her lips. Her tongue darted at his. She rubbed her body against him, her breast working in one hand, her buttocks in the other. Her fingers enclosed his neck, then moved gently down his back.
His hand poked under her skirt and beneath her panties, then cupped her buttocks fiercely. His other hand was tugging at the buttons of her blouse.
She pulled from his lips. She was always calm at a time like this. "Let me get out of this blouse, Tommy," she said. "It's new. And you can be putting the couch down."
He did not say anything. He took his hands from her body and walked over to the couch and started making it into a bed. She removed her skirt and blouse and folded them and put them on the table. It is going to be like it was the first time, she told herself, as she un-snapped her stockings and rolled them off. She dropped the garter belt to the floor. Kicked out of her shoes. He is going to be quick and rough and get what he wants. He is going to hurt me, and not talk to me.
She peeled her slip off and saw him standing beside the bed. He was not even going to put sheets on. And she liked him so much. She had enjoyed their time together. Now it would be like it usually was with a man. But at least he wanted her. Even needed her, if only sexually.
She stood in her bra and panties. They were new. The white panties were brief and frilled at the bottom. She felt wicked and sexy standing like this. She wondered if she should take them off. Sometimes, men wanted to remove the bra and panties. So she stood there, arching on her toes a little.
He came to her. Took her fingertips and led her to the bed. His gentleness surprised her, and she smiled contentedly as he traced his fingers up her arms and she drew close to him.
Then he grabbed her shoulders and jerked her body so solidly against his that it took her breath away. He enclosed her legs with his, and his hands clawed at her panties from the bottom. His breathing was so fierce and gasping that he could barely kiss her. Her mashed breasts ached.
Her panties ripped in his hands and she pulled from his lips to protest. She was frightened and suddenly wanted him to leave her alone. She tried to get away from him, and kicked him. He lost his balance and they fell to the bed, with her on top.
He held her firmly and rolled her over. She closed her eyes and did not resist him. She trembled slightly, but was detached enough to calculate how many minutes it would take for him to get what he wanted from her body.
The record had ended and swirled inanely. A horn blew and tires skidded on the wet street. His breath was warm and gasping and she seemed to feel it all over her body. He did not remove her bra, but jerked it down, and a hand pushed and squeezed a breast. A hand was pulling down the torn panties. His mouth was pressed against hers, and she worked her tongue like a machine against his.
And oddly, she thought of that Mrs. Martin at the party for an instant. Remembered the way she had looked at her. Until Tommy's hands hurt her and she drew her thighs together.
There was stillness. The breathing was gone. No hands on her. No lips. No tongue. No crushing weight of his body. She opened her eyes. He was sitting on the edge of the bed. Sweat poured from his body. His shirt was unbuttoned and his pants unzipped.
He looked down at her and shook his head. "You're some lousy, wooden lover," he said. He stood up. Buttoned his shirt. Zipped his pants.
She inhaled sharply. Her stomach tightened. She was sore. She sat up, and pulled her bra over her breasts. She tugged at her panties. Realized they were ripped.
Something choked in her throat, and she jumped from the bed. She sat trembling in a chair and clumsily started putting a stocking on.
"I hate you," she said. "I hate all men. You're all beasts."
"Cool it baby," he said. He swiped the arm off the swirling record. "You called me and it was your idea to come up here. And you lie there stiff as a damn board."
She had the stocking up to her knee. She ripped it off, and threw it to the floor. She despised him. She despised all men. She stood up. Reached for her slip. She tried to choke back the tears, but the water swelled from her eyes.
She dropped the slip. Stood there barefooted in her bra and torn, frilly, white panties and cried. She did not feel brave or strong or full of hatred or anything.
"I needed you,' Tommy," she said. She brushed the tears from her cheeks. "I would have done anything for you tonight. I wanted you to need me. To want me."
He had stepped nearer to her. He reached his hand out, but she jerked from it and drew her body up with her hands crossed in front of her breasts.
"I won't hurt you again, Carol," he said. He spoke softly. Once more, he reached out, gently, as he might to a timid deer. She still huddled but she did not draw back.
"I won't hurt you, not in any way, Carol," he said. "Will you trust me?"
She sniffled from the crying, and nodded. She wanted desperately for him to be kind to her. There was nowhere else to go now, but back home to her father. She looked up at him. She had never noticed how blue his eyes were. And they were gentle now. She knew he would not hurt her. She stepped into his arms.
"Let's sit on the bed," he said. "I won't do anything you don't want me to. I won't try to make love to you again, unless you want me to."
She did not reply, but she let him lead her to the bed, and they sat down. He put his arm around her shoulder, and she snuggled to him. She sniffled once more, but she was no longer crying.
"I don't understand you, Carol" he said. "You know how interested I've been in you. Trying desperately to date you. Then you call me up, and practically insist we come up here. At first, by the window, you're warm and aggressive, then suddenly, on the bed, cold as a statue. I just don't understand you."
She was afraid he was going to criticize her again. She stiffened her body and closed her eyes as if this would keep the words from hurting her.
"I don't understand you," he said again, softly. He rubbed her arm. Kissed her forehead. "But it was stupid of me to be so thoughtless on the bed. I think I'm afraid of you. Somehow I wanted to make love to you quickly, as if that would be some sort of victory for me, and make me less afraid. I like you more than I care to admit to myself."
She huddled closer to him, and twisted so that her leg caressed his. He kissed her forehead. Her nose. She tilted her face up, and opened her lips. He brushed her lips with his. With her hand, she pulled his face down, and very deliberately worked at his lips with her tongue. Then she licked the roof of his mouth. Felt him tense an instant at the sexual thrill of the tongue-touch. He kissed her deeply, and held her to him. He was gentle, though she could tell he was getting excited again. He pulled from her lips.
"Can I take your bra off?" he asked.
"Yes, Tommy," she said.
He unsnapped the bra and took it off slowly. He was kind with her breasts this time. He did not touch them with his hands. He lowered his head and licked them faintly, then sucked slowly. Her nipples hardened and she thrust her body forward. But he pulled away from the breasts.
"Can I take your panties off?" he asked. "What's left of them?" He smiled. She looked into his blue eyes, and she smiled, too.
"Yes, Tommy," she said. "Rip them off again, if you like."
"No more rough stuff," he said. "I promised."
He carefully rolled the panties down. His fingers tickled as he lowered them from her legs. He drew back from her, and stared into her eyes. His hands traced her body, from one end to the other, trailing like feathers and exciting her as she had never before been excited.
She wanted to kiss him, but she did not look away from his eyes. She unbuttoned his shirt and unzipped his pants and helped him from his clothes.
"Will you lie down on the bed with me, Carol?" he asked.
She nodded and smiled. She lay back and put her hands on his shoulders and pulled him to her. He kissed her and touched a nipple with a fingernail so lightly she could barely tell it was there. But it arched to a point and she thought in a minute the fingernail would arouse her beyond endurance.
"Can I lie down with you, Carol?" he asked.
"Yes, Tommy," she said. "Oh, yes, please."
He moved to her and she enclosed him. It was her gasping breath now that made kissing difficult and she tried to crush her body against him.
He cupped her face with his hands and spoke to her, his lips forming the words on her lips and arousing her with each syllable: "Standing there by the window, crying in your bra and your small, torn panties, you were the most lovely and most desirable woman I've ever seen."
He barely finished, for they already worked together. Slowly. And it did not hurt her. Except in pleasant ways.
CHAPTER SIX
Hayes picked up the plans for the new advertising campaign, and tried to concentrate on the figures and proposals. But in half a minute, his mind was wandering again.
He took a couple of nervous puffs from the cigarette, then mashed it out in the cluttered ashtray on his desk. He glanced back at the statistics again, then looked around his office, at the heavy, dark, expensive furniture and the paneled walls and thick carpeting.
He shut his eyes a moment and remembered how hard, and for how many years he had fought and clawed to get to this point. And all those years he had told himself that once he got here, he would be content, and need no one, as he had needed no one on his way to the top.
He opened his eyes and shook his head. Yet, something as simple as not being able to see Michelle had him on edge like this. He simply could not understand it.
Just as he picked up the paper with the proposals again, his phone rang. He was glad for the interruption, and jerked the receiver up.
"Daddy, I need to talk to you," Carol said.
"Yes, and I want to talk to you, young lady," he said.
"You didn't come home until three o'clock again last night. Where the hell were you until that time of night?"
"I had a date with Tommy again," she said. "I was all right, daddy. That's what I want to talk to you about. I think I'm really serious about..."
"What will people think, if you're out until that time of night?" he said. "You know how people in this town think of me, and they'd love to get something on me, through you. Don't you understand that?"
"Oh, daddy, please," she said. "Nobody's going to get anything on me. I want to come over and talk to you about Tommy."
"I don't want you to see him again, if he's going to keep you out until all hours of the night," he said.
"I think I'm in love with him, daddy," she said. "And
I'm so uncertain about things, I just have to talk to someone.
Hayes started to speak, then paused. He had the strangest feeling, and his stomach went hollow. Because he had the stark fear Carol was going to tell him she was going to get married, and leave home.
"Daddy?" she said. "Are you still there?"
"Yes, I'm here," he said, quickly. "But something just came up, Carol. I'll have to hang up now. And we'll talk later, okay?"
"Sure, daddy, I know you're busy, and I'm sorry I bothered you at work," she said, and he was startled at the sarcasm that lined her words.
And before he could speak, she hung up. He lit a cigarette, took a couple of puffs, then mashed it out as he bolted up.
He started for the door, then turned and picked up the phone and dialed Michelle's number. He drummed his fingers on the desk as the phone rang again and again.
He slammed the phone down, and stalked from his office. Damn her, he said to himself as he hurried out to his car. He could not believe that she was purposely-avoiding him.
As he climbed in his car, and drove from the parking lot into the deserted street, he told himself he would wring Michelle's neck if she was playing games with him.
But as he drove rapidly down the street he thought again of Carol's call, and he felt the hollow gnawing in his stomach. He felt terrible about cutting her off, when she obviously needed to talk to him.
But he could not let her get serious with some boy now. He knew it was stupid, but he could not stand the thought of living alone in that big house. So he told himself he had to decide something about Michelle before talking to Carol.
And hell, he hardly knew this boy she mentioned she loved, and what kind of boy was he, to keep her out all night. Hell, he asked himself, had he worked all these years, and made all the sacrifices he had, to end up this way?
Then as he stepped to the sidewalk from his car and slammed the door, he saw a girl come from Michelle's. He had seen her here before. The girl was eighteen or nineteen, and had a thin, pale-beautiful face, and long, black hair, and she was very thin. She hurried past him and glanced up, a strange, haunting smile on her thin lips. He swallowed, and watched her walk down the sidewalk. There was something about the girl he did not like and something upset him and gnawed at him, as it had the last time he had seen her here.
He watched her disappear around the corner, then he walked up to the house, and rang the bell. There was no answer, so he rang again, then knocked on the door, as he cursed aloud.
The door opened abruptly, and Michelle nodded at him, and smiled, a strange, nearly-mocking smile on the corners of her full lips.
"Why, hello, Walter," she said, as she stepped back. "What brings you out here this time of day?"
"Why the hell haven't you answered the phone?" he asked, as he walked past her into the living room.
She closed the door and followed him. "I've been busy, dear," she said. "I had a guest."
"That damn girl that just left," he muttered. "Something about her gives me the creeps."
Michelle smiled again. "Well, I'm sorry, Walter," she said. "I find her to be a perfectly charming girl. We've become good friends."
"Why the hell couldn't you answer the phone?" he asked. "You know how angry that makes me, Michelle."
She did not answer, and he stared at her a moment, down the length of the lush body which strained against a tight, green dress. He licked his lips, and stepped to her, and put his hands on her waist. But as he bent to her lips, she twisted from his hands, and stepped back.
"You can't barge in here, and snap at me, and then start pawing," she said. "I've let you do it before, Walter, but I'm sick and tired of it. You treat me like I was trash, and you won't even be seen in public with me."
"I take damn good care of you, Michelle," he said. "Don't give me any trouble. Not today. Not the way I feel right now."
"I'm not going to make love to you now, Walter," she said. "So understand that, and we won't have any trouble at all. You don't own me. And maybe you have taken care of me. But, baby, I've given you lots, too."
Anger flushed through Hayes' hot, sweating body, and he checked the urge to slap her. Then, suddenly, the anger drained and he stared at her body again, and at the faint smile at the corners of her lips, and he felt unsure of himself, and dreaded the thought of losing her.
He licked his lips, and forced himself to be calm, and warned himself it would be disastrous if he let her know how much he wanted her.
"All right, no fighting, Michelle," he said, and sighed.
She stepped to him, and touched his cheek with her hand. "I have a headache, Walter," she said. "And I'm tired. Come back tonight, darling. I'll make it up to you."
"Okay, I'll come back about eight," he said, and kissed her lips softly, and turned.
"I'll fix a good dinner," she said. "And we'll have a good night."
"Fine," he said, as he walked out, and told himself to think of the coming session with her ripe body. But as he walked slowly to his car, his legs felt weak, and he asked himself why he was leaving so meekly. A few months ago, he knew he would have busted her in the mouth, and told her to go to hell.
But as he climbed into his car, he shook his head. He knew he wanted to be with her so badly tonight, not just for the sex but because he did not want to be alone, that he would swallow any amount of pride.
And as he drove off, he told himself he had to keep Carol from getting involved with this boy. Because if he did not have Carol at home, he would become utterly dependent on Michelle, and no amount of rationalizing could keep him from admitting that about himself.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Carol walked through the willow trees and stopped beside the lake. The sky was clear with many stars, and the moon so bright she could make out her faint reflection in the still, black water.
She stood watching the water, and thought how gently Tommy was with her when they made love. And how he understood when she sometimes refused to sleep with him, when she got into one of her moods.
Then she sighed, and looked out at the water, and thought of another night down here by the lake. The night of one of her father's parties. And how much that night had shaped her attitude toward men...
As usual, she had been her father's hostess at that party. She had been home for summer vacation, from her sophomore year in college. She remembered that when she first danced with Frank that night, she knew something would happen between them.
She had been miserable that night. Had fought with her father, and realized how little he needed her, except as something to exhibit as part of his success.
She danced with Frank several times. He danced well, and was handsome, and several years older than she. She looked constantly at her father. He seemed so aloof, standing by the bar at his party, not needing her or anyone. And she felt alone and unwanted. Later, she and Frank walked away, casually down beneath the dripping trees to the lake.
It was hot and she suggested they go wading. They were holding hands in the water when she slipped in the mud and fell. He dragged her soaking wet from the lake. She collapsed on the ground, wondering what she would tell her father about her dress.
Then she saw the way Frank looked at her. She told herself she did not care about her father. That was his world, back up with the music and laughter on the patio, where he ruled everything and needed nobody. But she was a woman, and this was her world down here with this man.
Her calmness amazed her. And excited her. She had parked with boys. And petted heavily. But she never went all the way. But this night, it would be different. She wanted Frank to want her and need her and love her.
The water matted the dress to her body. Frank unzipped the dress, and slowly helped her shrug out of it. She quickly peeled from her slip and bra. She hesitated only at the panties.
But Frank pushed her down and kissed her and stroked her breasts. She lay back and the music up on the patio seemed strange and through the finger-thin willow leaves she saw the clouds moving rapidly past the full moon.
She kept chanting to herself that she did not need her father as he did not need her. But this man needed her, and wanted her. He kissed her breasts, but she only remembered his wet mouth and the slurping noise he made.
She could not get sexually excited with him. Only the idea excited her, with her father so near. Laughter pealed down from the patio, and someone broke a glass as Frank ripped her panties off and moved to her.
Then, suddenly, she was scared and wanted to stop. Frank did not even talk to her, or tell her he liked her and needed her, or tell her she was beautiful or anything. Each thing he did was rough and it hurt terribly.
And when he was working with her, he hurt her unbearably and she tried to shove him away and to twist her thighs to make the hurting stop, and she bit her knuckles until she tasted blood.
But she did not really fight him, or even scream. She bit her bleeding knuckles and the pain in her body was so great she thought she could not stand it. Then, suddenly, it was over, and he rolled away from her.
For a long time, he did not say anything, and she lay there beneath the trees, naked, listening to his heavy breathing and the music from the patio.
"Maybe we'd better go back separately," he said, finally.
"All right," she said.
Somehow it did not matter. He did not matter. She told herself she should hate him for what he had done to her. For the terrible way he had hurt her. But she did not.
"You go on back, and I'll be up in a minute," she said.
And he left her there, naked and alone, and crept through the trees to the party. She cried softly and felt the pain again. It took her an hour to get dressed and sneak around the house to the side door and up to her room to get cleaned up and change clothes.
She told her father she spilled a drink on her dress, and he chewed her out for being away from the party so long. She circulated again. Frank did not look at her and did not dance with her.
She hated Frank. She hurt and felt terrible. And, later, she stood at the bar with her father, and looked up at him, and thought: Men always treat women like that, don't they, daddy?
Later she called Frank and told him, calmly, if he did not leave town within a week, she would tell her father. He left. No one would stand up against her father.
... And as she walked slowly back up to the house, she thought how much that one night had caused her to be afraid of men. She picked her way through the dipping limbs of the willow trees, and told herself she had been stupid to let one night color her life to such an extent. And she liked Tommy so much and he was always so understanding, that she should stop worrying.
But as she walked up the steps to the house, she realized her stomach was drawn into a knot, and she felt tense and uneasy.
The saxophones and guitars whining from the juke box cut into Carol, and she sipped her drink and bit her lip, and felt her heart pounding. And she tensed when Tommy slid across the booth, and put his arm around her.
"What's wrong, baby?" he asked.
"Nothing, Tommy," she said. "I'm sorry. I'm so happy to be with you. And I want to feel good and all. But somehow I can't. I tried to talk to my father today, and well, it was terrible, Tommy."
He moved his arm, and shook his head. "Your father," he said. "Whenever you get into one of these moods, you always blame your father. He's very convenient for you, isn't he, Carol?"
She moved away from him, back against the wall. "I thought you understood about that, Tommy," she said.
"And it wasn't just my father. I was at home earlier, and got to thinking and I got depressed."
"I do understand, Carol," he said, and took a deep swallow of his drink. "But I thought things were going so well with us that these moods would stop." He moved closer, and put his hand on the back of her neck. "You know how much I like you, Carol. Hell, that's stupid. I'm in love with you, Carol. And I think you feel the same way about me. We keep talking around things, darling. Let's be sober and serious for a minute, Carol."
Carol picked up her glass and drained her drink.
"Talk to me, baby," Tommy said. "Please don't pull into yourself this way."
Carol looked into his eyes, and tried to force a smile. She did so much want to be with him and she knew she loved him, and did not ever want to be without him. But somehow, she could only think of talking to her father. And remember that night at the lake with Frank.
She turned to him, and bit her lip, and felt her heart pumping, and told herself she should talk to him. Or make some gesture. And she had just forced a gentle smile, and moved to kiss his cheek, when she looked past him, and saw a woman standing in front of their booth, and looking down at her.
Carol jerked back away from Tommy, and looked up at the woman. Then she recognized her. It was that woman she had met at her father's party a few days ago. She searched for the name and then she remembered it, Michelle Martin.
And just as she moved back to the wall, Michelle smiled and stepped forward. "Carol?" she asked. "Carol Hayes?"
Carol smiled and leaned up. "Yes, and how are you Mrs. ... Michelle," she said.
"Just fine, Carol," she said. "I wasn't sure it was you. I've never seen you out here."
"Oh, I come here all the time," Carol said. "Here, sit down." She turned to Tommy. "You don't mind, do you?" she asked. "I met Michelle at my father's party a few days ago, and we talked a short time and became friends."
Michelle sat down, and Carol saw that she was smiling in a strange way. "Yes, we became friends, didn't we?" Michelle said.
"Michelle, this is Tommy," Carol said. "Tommy, Michelle."
Tommy extended his hand, and nodded. "Glad to meet you," he said, but Carol could tell he was not sincere.
"I won't stay," Michelle said. "But I would like to talk to you, Carol. My name is in the book. Would you call me tomorrow?"
Carol stared at Michelle a moment, at the beautiful mature face, and down from the green eyes and smiling lips to the surge of the breasts. "Of course, I'd love to talk to you," Carol said. "We can get together for a drink."
Michelle smiled deeply as she stood up, a strange smile that crinkled the corners of her green eyes, and creased the edges of her lips. "Goodnight, then," she said, and turned, and walked slowly away, and disappeared into the crowd on the dance floor.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Hayes rolled over and put his arm around Michelle and moved to kiss her. But she twisted her lips away, then sat up.
"What's wrong?" he asked. "Don't I even jet a good-morning kiss."
She bent down and pecked at his lips, but she avoided his grasping hands, and scrambled from the bed. Anger mingled with his lust as he looked at her body displayed in the short, flimsy night-gown, and he stared at the nipples pressing against the thin cloth, and down to the rounded buttocks and bare thighs, and thought of possessing that body last night.
"What the hell's wrong with you?" he asked, as he sat up on the edge of the bed.
"Nothing, Walter," she said. "I simply don't feel like making love this morning."
He stood up and stepped to her and put his hands on her waist. "Well, I do," he said.
She took his hands from her waist, and shrugged. "Then go find someone to make love to," she said.'
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him. "You ought to know by now that no one treats me this way," he said.
"Damn you, you're hurting me," she said, and jerked her arm from his grasp. "You ought to know that you don't frighten me any longer, Walter. We're going to have nothing but trouble until you understand that I'm not something you've bought, and own body and soul. You know, I could tell you to get out of here, and never see you again."
"Michelle, I've taken damn good care of you," Hayes said. "I've spent a fortune on you."
"Walter, can't you think in terms of anything but buying something, or somebody?" she said. "Sure, you were generous, but so was I. With my body. Don't you think there are other men, with money, who might also be interested in me?"
"You're nothing but a high-priced prostitute," he snapped. His anger soared, but still he could not take his eyes from the incredible body that was barely hidden behind the sheer nightgown.
"Yes, that's how you've always treated me, Walter," she said. "But that's going to change in the future, or there will be no future for us."
"You're bluffing," he said. "What do you want, more money each week? What would you do if I walked out of here this minute?"
"Well, sweetie, first of all, I'd get dressed if I were you, before I walked out," she said. "Why don't you try walking out, and staying away? We could see who needs who the most, Walter."
He licked his lips, and swallowed, and knew he could not leave. And damn her, she knew it, too. She knew now that he needed her more than she needed him.
"What the hell do you want, Michelle?" he asked, finally.
"Stop treating me like you owned me, and like I was some kind of trash," she said. "You don't own me, and all the money you have can't buy me, Walter. From here on, things are going to be different with us. Everybody in town thinks you're tough and self-sufficient. But I know better, sweetie. You do need me, don't you, Walter?"
"I got where I am today by myself," he said, quickly. "And did not need anyone." But the words were hollow, and he felt no strength of conviction as he said them, when he remembered how desperately he had wanted to be with Michelle last night.
Her laugh was harsh, and it cut into him. "Is that right?" she asked. "Then there has been a radical change, Walter. And I can tell you that all your money is not going to buy me again, unless you change your attitude, and treat me with some respect, and take me out and let the town know what's happening with us."
"Michelle, I don't give a damn what people think of me," he said. "I'll take you out, if it will make you happy. But you must understand that one reason I've acted as I have is because of my daughter. I don't know how she would react to our situation."
Again, Michelle's laughter was harsh. "Your precious Carol," she said. "You're afraid she would be shocked to know that her tough and aloof father is involved with a woman. How touching."
Hayes felt confused and weak and, in a sense, defeated, for the first time in many, many years. He knew he could not fight Michelle. He did need her, needed to be with her, and if she insisted, he would take' her out, and treat her differently.
"Well?" Michelle said, as she cocked her head. "I was afraid for a minute that you'd gone to sleep, Walter. I do believe we were discussing your daughter."
"I was just thinking," he said.
"Walter, I'm certain Carol and I can become the best of friends," Michelle said, and again her smile was enigmatic, and made him uneasy. "Girls such as Carol always like me, sweetie. Perhaps we should get together..."
"No," Hayes snapped. "No, not yet, Michelle. Don't push things. I don't want to lose you. You're right. But just as you said there are other men with money who would pay you. Well, there are other attractive women in town besides you, who would welcome my money. Just give me a little time to think about Carol, and this whole situation."
"Yes, Walter, you do your thinking," she said, and turned and walked to the dresser, rolling her buttocks a bit excessively. "But I'd advise you not to take too long. You see, darling, you don't really know me well at all, and the subdued and submissive side I've shown you so far is about to evaporate."
"I don't follow you," Hayes said.
"I think Carol did, during that brief talk at your party," she said.
Hayes stepped to Michelle. "What the hell do you mean?" he asked. "Be blunt, Michelle, and stop talking in circles, particularly about Carol."
"Oh, it's nothing, Walter," she said. "Except I think I perhaps understand your daughter and her problems and all, and what she really wants, far better than you do."
Hayes looked from her taunting smile, and swallowed. Her talk of Carol this way had completed the task of unnerving him in a way he had not known in years, and he told himself to leave, to get away from her, and think things out clearly, before making some rash move he would regret later.
"I've got to get to the office," he muttered. "We're starting the new advertising campaign. And I've got to stop by the house."
She turned and kissed his cheek. Then he walked slowly over and sat down on the edge of the bed and lit a cigarette, as he told himself to move carefully now, and not make any mistakes.
Hayes parked in his driveway, and stalked over the thick carpeting of grass, and across the broad porch into his house. He went into the den and poured bourbon into a glass and bolted it down.
The breakfast and black coffee, and then the ride from Michelle's had cleared his thoughts somewhat now, and he felt looser and more able to deal with the situation.
He drained the bourbon and walked back to the bar. As he mixed another drink he told himself that he had to admit he wanted Michelle. But he did not want to have to seem to give in to her.
Neither did he want Carol to realize how dependent he was on Michelle. And as he took a deep swallow, he thought of having Carol and Michelle become friends and talk about him.
He drained the bourbon and felt a little funny, and mixed another drink. Dammit, if Carol was not so spoiled, and not so set on getting serious with this boy, if she would stay home and be the daughter she should, for just a short time, perhaps he could have Michelle on his own terms.
He had just taken a deep swallow of the bourbon and water, when he heard a noise and turned to see Mose walk into the den.
"Morning, Mister Walter," Mose said. "I thought I heard you come in. I just wanted to tell you Miss Carol is having breakfast, in case you want to join her."
He walked quickly down the long hallway and into the dining room. Carol looked up abruptly, as though he were the last person on earth she expected to see.
"Good morning, daddy," she said, and looked back down at her plate.
"Morning," he said, as he sat down at the far end of the long table. "What gets you up at this time of the day?"
"Oh, I couldn't sleep," she said, as she picked at a piece of scrambled egg on her plate. "And I was starving, but now I can't eat."
"It will do you good to get up early for a change," he said, as he poured himself a cup of steaming coffee, and added sugar. "You sleep too late as it is. You know if you got up early, you could assume some responsibility around the house, instead of leaving everything to me and the servants."
"Oh, daddy, please don't fuss at me," she said. "I'll get up early, and do whatever you want. But I just feel terrible now. I had a light with Tommy, and I'm so confused about what to do."
"So you think you're really in love with him?" Hayes asked, as he sipped the coffee. "You're too young and in many ways too immature to get involved with anyone, Carol. I want to see you date and have a good time but frankly I think you should break off this thing with Tommy."
"Oh, daddy, how can you say that?" she asked, as she looked up at him. "You hardly know him, and you have no idea how much I like him. And I'm not that young. Don't be surprised at what happens with Tommy."
"Carol, I won't have you..."
She threw her fork down. "You won't have what?" she interrupted. "Doesn't what I want matter, daddy? You have no idea what I want, or what I am, and you don't care. We're like strangers to each other, and I'm sick of it. I could discuss my life with the first person I met on the street and he'd understand better than you do. I've wanted desperately to talk to you, and you could not care less."
"Young lady, don't talk to me in that tone of voice," he said. "I've been busy."
She snorted out a laugh. "Busy?" she said, and her words were laced with scorn. "Busy with some woman. Too busy with some cheap woman to have any time to even consider my feelings. How do you treat her, daddy? like you treated mother, and me?"
"Carol, how dare you talk like that," he said, and stood up.
He started around the table to her, but she suddenly scrambled up, and ran from the dining room. He followed her out, and watched her run up the stairs to her room, and slam the door.
He started to go after her, but stopped on the first step. He knew she was on the verge of hysteria, and that it would only make things worse to have a scene with her now.
And as he turned and walked back to the den and poured down a double shot of bourbon, he realized he was not in too good shape himself. He had given Carol everything in the world, and yet she thought he cared nothing for her. He just couldn't understand her lack of gratitude.
But as he sank down onto the couch, he knew things with Carol would never be the same now, and that perhaps she would get serious with this boy, and get married and leave him alone.
He closed his eyes a moment, then jumped up and walked quickly from the house and out to his car. Hell, he told himself as he backed down the driveway. He still had a newspaper to run, and throwing himself into his work had always been the best thing for him when he worried too much.
CHAPTER NINE
Carol walked slowly down the sidewalk to Tommy's building. The mid-afternoon sun was murderous, and her legs were weak, and sweat matted her clothes to her warm body.
She was still reeling from that terrible scene with her father this morning, and now Tommy was going out of town, and she had to tell him good-bye. And then she would be completely alone. She told herself she would just die if she and Tommy had trouble today.
She turned down the sidewalk to Tommy's building, and paused at the door. Then she shoved the door open and walked slowly to the elevator. She hesitated outside Tommy's door, then knocked softly. The door opened immediately.
"Geezus, I thought you'd never get here," Tommy said, as he stood back and let her in.
She walked past him, then turned as he shut the door. "I'm sorry, Tommy," she said. "I walked most of the way. I had lots of things to think about, and felt like a walk would help me sort them out."
"But you know I'm leaving in a couple of hours," he said, as he stepped to her. "Hell, you're in one of your moods, aren't you? Another fight with your father, Carol?"
"Yes, we had a terrible fight at breakfast, Tommy," she said, and looked up into his blue eyes for some sign of understanding and compassion. But the eyes were narrowed, and then she smelled the whiskey and knew he had been drinking.
"Please, Carol, just for a couple of hours, forget your damn father," he said, and put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her to him.
She did not resist, but her body was stiff as a board. And she tensed when he kissed her lips, then shoved his tongue into her mouth. She stood a moment and even tried to return the kiss, but when she felt his hands sliding down to cup her buttocks, she shoved him away.
"Tommy, please don't be rough or crude," she said. "Not now, of all times."
"I understand," he said grimly. "But it's driving me crazy, being with you and not being able to make love to you. Hell, the past couple of days, you freeze up when I even touch you or kiss you."
"Tommy, I'm sorry," she said, as she drained the glass and set it on the table. She put her hand on his cheek. "I think I love you too. But I'm so frightened about everything. This whole thing with my father is ridiculous, I know. But not having had a mother for many years, and being so alone with my father, well, now that I realize how little he cared for me, how little he needed me when I needed him, it just tears me up. And then when you grab me like you did when I came in, I just can't handle it."
He put his hand over hers on his cheek. "All right, Carol," he said. "I do understand. And I do love you enough to endure your moods. But only to a point. You're a woman now, and you're going to have to learn to accept your father, and to steel yourself to live your own life."
"I will, Tommy," she said. "It's just takes time." She leaned up and kissed his cheek, then his ear.
"I'm only human, Carol," Tommy said. "I've been brooding about us, and drinking, and frankly, if I stay in this room alone with you any longer, I'm-likely to assault you again. So you'd better leave."
"Okay, I'll go," she said, quickly. "If that's the only alternative to being assaulted."
"Calm down, baby," Tommy said, as he walked over and put his hands on her shoulders. "I'll be back in a few days. When you settle down and think clearly, you'll see that this is best. But we can't have any more of these periods of abstinence. I'll be gentle, and tender, but you're got to meet me part way."
She twisted from his hands, and walked to the door, then turned. She felt tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "I'm not sure I'll meet you at all," she said. "Everything is moving too fast for me, and I'm scared and so terrified of getting hurt, somehow. And now, right at this worst time with my father, you're leaving me alone."
"You know I have to go away on business, and have no choice," he said. "Look, I'll call you tonight, and every day until I get back."
"No, don't call me," she said, and sniffled. "If I have to be alone, then I want to be completely alone. I know it sounds childish, but I can't help but feel you're running out on me, right when I need you most, and you can't even keep your damn hands off me long enough for us to have a couple of final hours together. Good-bye Tommy."
"Carol wait," he said.
But she brushed tears from her eyes, and opened the door and ran out. As she bolted down the stairs, she heard him call, "I love you, Carol, and when I get back, we'll work things out."
She did not stop, but ran down the steps to the lobby, brushing the tears away with the back of her hand. She stood sniffling by the door a moment, and told herself she hated Tommy, for leaving her like this, and for grabbing her as he had. And she hated her damn father. She hated all men, she told herself through her sobs.
Then she took her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes, and walked from the building. And as she turned down the sidewalk, and the heat slammed into her, and the droplets of sweat fell from her forehead, she remembered she was supposed to call Michelle, and she nearly ran to the nearest telephone.
Carol picked her way down the dark, crowded bar, squinting as she tried to see through the haze of cigarette smoke. She told herself she was glad Michelle had suggested they meet here, because her eyes were red and puffy from crying and she knew she must look like hell.
"Carol, over here," a woman's voice called.
Carol turned and through the haze of smoke, she saw Michelle getting up from a booth in the corner.
"I should have waited for you at the bar," Michelle said. "I forget how impossibly dark it is in here. Did you have any trouble finding me?"
Carol slid into the booth, and Michelle sat down beside her. "Oh, no, not really," Carol said.
The waiter came, and Carol asked Michelle to order for her, and Michelle ordered martinis. Carol studied Michelle's mature, beautiful face, and the polished, confident way she did everything. Then Michelle turned abruptly, and caught Carol staring, and again Carol blushed.
"Are you okay?" Michelle said. "Your eyes seem swollen and red. I hope you haven't been crying."
Carol nibbled her lip. "I'm afraid I have, Michelle," she said. "But I don't want to bother you with my problems."
"What good are friends, if they can't share problems?" Michelle asked. "I bet you had a fight with your boyfriend."
"Yes, that's right," Carol said. "And trouble with your father," Michelle added. "Why how did you know?" Carol asked. "That's amazing."
"Just a guess," Michelle said.
The waiter brought the martinis and Carol and Michelle drank silently for a moment. Then Michelle turned to Carol.
"Please tell me about your trouble," she said. "It helps a great deal to be able to talk to someone."
"Yes, I need desperately to talk to someone who understands," Carol said.
Carol stiffened as Michelle put her hand on her arm, but she told herself not to be childish. But she bit her lips together when Michelle patted her hand. And she gulped down a huge swallow of the drink.
"I'm afraid I'm a nervous wreck, Michelle," Carol said, and shook her head. "You see, Tommy-he's the one you saw me with at Ethel's-well, he went out of town today, and we had a fight, because, well, I went to his apartment, and I really like him and all, but, well."
Michelle smiled. "You wouldn't make love to him?" she asked.
Carol nodded. "You know everything about me, don't you?" she asked. "I'm glad, because I want to tell you everything so maybe you'll understand and you can help me. I really need help, Michelle."
Carol took a gulp of her drink, then drained the glass. And Michelle ordered another round. And as Carol sipped her second drink, she started talking slowly and hesitatingly. But the gin and vermouth and Michelle's obvious sympathy made talking easier. And soon, she had blurted out about the night with Frank, and her fears of being hurt, and her trouble with Tommy.
"I understand perfectly, Carol," Michelle said, as she signalled the waiter for another round. "Many girls, many women, get terribly hurt by men, and they never get over it. But it's not the worst thing in the world. It happened to me, and I've never been able to really enjoy making love to a man, even though I was married, and have been deeply involved with men."
"But I want to, Michelle," Carol said. "I want to love a man, and make love to him, and when Tommy was tender and I wasn't upset about my father, well, I really enjoyed it."
"Perhaps you were only fooling yourself, dear," Michelle said. "Perhaps you will never really enjoy making love to a man."
And Michelle smiled and patted Carol's hand once more, and Carol went tense again and goose bumps broke out on her arms, and she gulped her drink, and cursed her nervousness.
"I can help you, Carol," Michelle said. "You would be surprised. Perhaps it's fortunate that Tommy is away just as we become friends. You must come over to my house tomorrow. You must trust me, dear, because I can help you in many ways, even with your father. Particularly with your father."
"Oh, I'm afraid there's no hope with him," Carol said. "He's so strong and independent and self-sufficient; he couldn't care less about me."
"Carol, you would be surprised how vulnerable even a seemingly strong man is," Michelle said. "And how pleasant it can be, after you have been hurt and abused, to break down his ego, and show him who is really the strongest," Michelle said.
"That sounds funny," Carol said, and sipped her drink, and realized she felt a little dizzy. A lot of what Michelle had said this afternoon had seemed strange, she told herself. Yet Michelle obviously wanted to help her. And she needed help, needed someone who felt something for her, very badly.
"Now I've got to run," Michelle said. "But you be sure to call me and come over tomorrow."
"Yes, I'd like to," Carol said. "And thank you so much for listening to my babbling and whining this afternoon. Here, let me split the check with you."
That strange smile twisted on the corners of Michelle's lips. "I insist on getting the check," she said. "I get lots of money, Carol, and it gives me a special thrill to be spending this money on you, my dear. A special thrill, I can assure you. Now, can I drop you off somewhere?"
"No, I think I'll sit here a couple of minutes, and finish my drink," Carol said. "Thank you so much for everything, Michelle, and I'll call you tomorrow."
Michelle smiled and put some bills down on the table and turned and disappeared into the crowd. Carol settled back in the booth and sipped her drink and asked herself why she should feel so strange and uneasy, after her talk with Michelle.
She shrugged and told herself that at least now she had a friend, a real friend who understood, and who would not hurt her like her father, or Tommy. And she would trust Michelle, because she had no one else to turn to. No one at all, she told herself, and poured down the gin and vermouth.
CHAPTER TEN
Carol drove slowly down the tree-lined street, looking from the window at the house numbers. Then she saw Michelle's house, and turned into the driveway and parked behind Michelle's car.
She sat in the car a minute, and realized that her heart had started pumping, and that she felt all tense and nervous again. She told herself not to be silly, as she opened the door and climbed out.
But she walked very slowly to the front door, and remembered the strange tone in Michelle's voice when she insisted that Carol come out to her house today. And as Carol paused with her finger at the bell, she thought again of her session in the bar with Michelle yesterday.
Just as she pressed the bell, the door opened, and she jumped.
"I heard you drive up," Michelle said. "Come in."
"How are you?" Carol asked, and walked into the small entrance foyer. Then she followed Michelle into the living room.
Michelle was stunning in a tight red blouse and skirt outfit, which accentuated her beautiful body, and offset her coloring perfectly. Carol watched the polished, confident way she moved about the room, and felt a pang of envy.
"Here, sit down on the couch, dear," Michelle said. "And what can I get you to drink?"
"I feel sort of funny today, Michelle," Carol said. "Kind of queasy. And I just don't think I can face the taste of whiskey." She did feel a bit queasy, but she admitted to herself that she did not want to drink because for some reason she did not want to take a chance on getting tight.
"Why not let me make you something different?" Michelle asked. Something really delicious. And you won't be able to taste the whiskey. It's more like a sweet than a drink."
"It sounds good, Michelle," Carol said. "Maybe just one. What is it called?"
Michelle smiled and moved over to a small, portable bar between two windows. "It's called a stinger," Michelle said. "And I'll join you, and have one myself."
"Michelle, I've been thinking about something you talked about yesterday," Carol said. "I'm afraid I got a bit tight, and didn't quite understand what you said. It's about your attitude toward men. You see, I really think I love Tommy, and I wouldn't want to hurt him, or prove who's stronger, or anything."
Michelle turned from the bar with a drink in each hand. "But Tommy did treat you roughly the first time you made love, you told me," she said, as she handed Carol the stinger. "And yesterday, he nearly attacked you."
"That's true," Carol said. Then she sipped the drink It was delicious, just what she wanted. "Oh, this is wonderful, just perfect for the way I feel."
"You see, I know exactly how to please you, Carol, exactly what you really want," Michelle said, and she sat down on the couch, only a couple of inches away.
Carol took a quick sip of the delicious drink, and looked into Michelle's eyes a long moment, then looked away. "Then tell me what I should do," Carol said. "I've got to to something, about my father, about Tommy, about things in general."
"Yes, that's why I wanted you to come over this afternoon, Carol," Michelle said. "I've known many other girls your age with the same problems about men. Their fathers. Their boyfriends. And I've always been able to help them see, oh, what should I call it, the reality about what it's like to be a woman in a man's world."
"I don't quite follow you," Carol said, as she finished her drink.
"Here, let me get you another stinger," Michelle said.
"Well, I don't know," Carol said. "But all right. One more, it was so good. And it doesn't really seem like drinking whiskey."
Michelle took the empty glass and walked over to the bar. Carol felt better now after the drink, and she looked at Michelle's lovely figure in the tight, red outfit, and remembered that night at the party, watching her dance. Michelle was so obviously attractive to men, and could have her pick of them. And yet, there was this strange bitterness toward men that Carol did not quite understand.
Just as Michelle turned from the bar, the phone rang. Michelle handed Carol the drink, then walked over and picked the phone up.
Carol sipped the drink, and watched Michelle's lovely face suddenly harden.
"I told you I was busy this afternoon," Michelle snapped. "Tonight? I doubt if I'll be free tonight. But you can call again if you like. And remember what I told you. You're not to come out here again without calling first."
Carol poured the drink down, and saw the hardness on Michelle's face give way to a sharp, mocking smile.
"So she told you that, did she?" Michelle said, and looked toward Carol and deepened the smile in a way that made Carol look away from the piercing eyes, and gulp her drink.
"I'm not at all surprised," Michelle said. "And I told you I already probably understand her better than you do. Now please, I'm busy. Sure, call me tonight."
Michelle put the phone down, and came back and sat down beside Carol. "A friend, with whom I'm having a bit of trouble," she said. "And after we solve your problems, you'll find out all about him, Carol, darling. And when you do, you'll then understand what I mean about men, expecially the strong, arrogant kind."
"Sure, Michelle," Carol said. But her heart had started racing again, and she drained her drink, and felt a little uneasy.
"Ah, you finished just as I did," Michelle said. "We'll have one more, then we'll get down to a serious talk."
"Well, just this one more, and that's really all," Carol said.
She licked the sweet, sticky drink from her lips and settled back on the couch, and watched Michelle mix the stingers. She felt much better now, and told herself she had been foolish to be uneasy.
Then Carol remembered what Michelle had said about her friend, the one who had called. And she realized she was being selfish in talking about herself and in not seeming at all concerned with Michelle's problems.
"I'm afraid I've been monopolizing the conversation with my problems," Carol said. "Why don't you tell me something about yourself? I'd love to hear all about your life."
Michelle turned with the drinks, and sat down beside Carol, this time nearly touching her. And as she handed the drink to Carol, Carol saw that funny smile on her lips.
"Oh, you'll find out all about me soon, Carol, dear," Michelle said. "But for this time, I'm afraid my life has been a bit too, shall we say, scarlet for you to accept. Just wait a few days, though."
"Oh, you won't shock me, honestly," Carol said. "I'm no child, and just because you make love and all, and you're not married to the man, well, that's hardly scarlet, if you really love him." She sipped the stinger, and licked her lips. "And besides, what difference will a few days make?"
Michelle patted Carol's arm, and Carol stiffened a moment. Then she forced a faint smile and drank from the stinger.
"A few days will make a great deal of difference," Michelle said. "No, Carol you're no child. But I doubt if you've seen much first-class sin. Just some third-rate stuff, with a boy like Tommy."
"I don't follow you at all now," Carol said.
"Just enjoy your drink, and trust me, dear," Michelle said, in a soft, soothing voice. "And we must go on with our talk. About your problems. Which really are quite simple. Your father has hurt you terribly, and that boy by the lake. And even Tommy. That seems very consistent to me, quite a pattern."
Carol finished her drink, and shook her head. She felt good, but just a bit funny. And she started to protest when Michelle mixed her another drink. But they were so delicious she decided to have just one more.
And as Michelle handed her the drink shejelt Michelle's fingers linger just an instant on her hand, but she sighed and settled back and did not let it upset her. She was safe here with Michelle, with no worries about her father or Tommy, and these drinks were wonderful, and she was content, as though nothing could harm her.
She did flinch just a bit at the touch of Michelle's hand on her cheek. Then Michelle tilted her face up by the chin.
"You're so beautiful, it is a crime for you ever to be hurt again by a man, Carol," Michelle said. "And I think perhaps you never will be."
Michelle released her chin, and Carol forced a smile and sipped from the stinger. "Thank you, Michelle," she said. "You're lovely, too."
"Do you really think so, Carol?" Michelle asked.
"Oh, I thought you looked just wonderful, from that first moment I saw you dancing at the party," Carol said. "And such a good figure, and so confident and sure of yourself."
"Here, it's time for a drink," Michelle said.
And Carol made no protest. She realized she was just the least bit dizzy, but she felt so good after all the trouble with her father and Tommy.
As Michelle sank down beside her again, Carol smiled contentedly. "I feel so good being here, Michelle," she said, as she took the drink.
"I'm glad, dear," Michelle said, and she patted Carol's hand. "And we're going to see that no man ever hurts you again."
Carol closed her eyes, and licked the delicious liquid from her lips, and sighed. She did not flinch at all when she felt Michelle rubbing her cheek gently. It felt so good to have someone like her, and know she would not be hurt or abused.
"The solution to your problem, my darling, is to learn to live without men," Michelle said, and her voice seemed far away now. "Unless you're forced to accommodate them at times, as I am, for lack of money."
Michelle was rubbing her cheek so softly and Carol sipped the stinger and opened her eyes, but everything was hazed, and Michelle was a blur, only inches away.
Carol started to speak, and she opened her mouth. Then Michelle's fingers were tracing her lips, and she swallowed, and felt funny little tingles play down her spine.
"No need to ever be hurt, Carol, darling," Michelle said, and Carol felt Michelle's other hand on her knee. "You'll see what it's like to have pleasure with no fear or pain, my darling."
Carol shook her head, and tried to sit up, but then Michelle's fingers were suddenly sliding inside her blouse and Carol said, "No, No," very softly.
But her nipples went hard, and the tingles swept over her back, and then Michelle's lips were soft and moist on her lips, and Michelle's tongue was sliding into her mouth.
And as Carol raised herself up, her body glowed with feeling, delicate yet exciting feeling she had never before experienced. She tried to shove Michelle away, but she felt dulled by the stingers, and slowly she sank back down and gave herself up to the feel of Michelle's gentle, yet maddening hands and lips and tongue.
Carol felt her breath rushing now. And the blood throbbed at her temples. And she felt hot, so hot and excited. She heard herself moaning softly as Michelle carefully opened her blouse and took her bra off, and she gasped at the touch of Michelle's lips and tongue on her nipple-hard breasts.
And Carol groaned as Michelle's feather-soft fingers roamed her body. Michelle sucked a nipple, and muttered, "I once loved a girl like you many years ago, and I knew from the moment I first saw you that I had to have you, forever and ever."
Carol felt her body writhing, and she groaned aloud and clamped her lips together at the sensation, as she felt Michelle's lips and tongue slide down from her breasts and over her stomach, and she told herself she did not ever want this delicate, maddening, excitement to stop...
Carol opened her eyes, and shook her head, and for an instant, she did not realize where she was. Her body was wracked with a terrible hangover, and she shook her head again, and scrambled up on the couch.
Then she realized she was naked, and she huddled her body, and glanced quickly around the room, which was dim in the faint light which filtered through the blinds.
And then Carol remembered what had happened, and she bolted up, and her knees were so weak she nearly collapsed. Her body felt completely drained, and her head throbbed and her stomach rolled, and she shuddered as she tasted the sickening, sticky stingers on her lips.
She brushed her lips with the back of her hand, and looked around at her clothes on the couch and floor. And again, as through a thick haze, she remembered all the drinks, and the way she sat there and let Michelle excite her, and then the way she responded.
"My gosh," she gasped, and bent down and scooped up her tiny, white panties and frilly, white bra and started dressing with trembling fingers.
She was just stepping into her shoes when she heard a sound from the back of the house. And then she heard Michelle call her name. And just the sound of Michelle's voice caused her to pivot and run from the living room and out to her car.
She nearly clawed the door open, and scrambled inside and backed quickly down the driveway. And her tires squealed as she dropped the gear into first and stomped down on the accelerator. She drove several blocks, drove without seeing anything or thinking, and only when she ran a stop sign and nearly rammed a pick-up truck, did she take her foot from the accelerator and slow down.
And she stopped at the next corner, and looked into the rear-view mirror. She gasped. Her hair was a mess of tangles, and her face was white, and her lipstick smeared.
She drove away slowly, and tried to force herself to calm down. But she was nearly gasping out her breath, and her head hurt terribly, and she felt utterly drained.
And she nibbled her lower Up as she thought of that terrible scene she had been through with Michelle. Michelle, who she had liked so much, and trusted.
But as she stopped for a red light, and brushed a strand of hair from her sweating forehead, she told herself she should not really blame Michelle, because of the way she responded.
She knew now what Michelle's strange talk had meant. And she shuddered as she thought that maybe Michelle was right about her, and what she really wanted. She had counted on Michelle so much as her only friend. Now she felt terrible, and utterly alone.
The light changed, and she drove off, drove slowly with her fingers rigid on the steering wheel. Her only thought now was to get home and go to bed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hayes walked slowly around the back-shop of his newspaper, inspecting the new three-color process for the advertising campaign, and listening to members of his staff talk about the process.
He nodded and talked without enthusiasm, and tried to keep his thoughts from wandering. But as his advertising manager discussed an added margin of profit from the increased display advertising rates, Hayes thought back again to last night, and the state in which Carol had come home.
And what disturbed him most was that she had not been with Tommy, because he was out of town. Hayes nodded at some figures the advertising manager showed him, and then thought how Carol had refused to talk to him, and had gone right up and locked herself in her room.
And then he remembered feeling like hell, and calling Michelle, and having her tell him she did not want to see him. And the strange mood she was in.
Damn her, Hayes said to himself and walked over to inspect some layouts for the colored ads. But in a couple of minutes he found himself unable to even pretend concentration, so he abruptly broke the session off, and walked back to his office.
He sat down and called Michelle again, but there was still no answer. He wondered again if perhaps she had found another lover. She had mentioned that there were other men with money in town who were willing to have her. And he did not doubt that there were. And he remembered her comment last night on the phone about a new interest taking up her time.
Hayes picked up his pen, then drummed it on his desk. He remembered the long, lonely session at home last night, drinking in the den. Then going out to find another woman, only to realize he did not want just another woman. He wanted Michelle.
He shoved his chair back and walked from his office, and out of the building. The late afternoon sun was still hot, and he brushed sweat from his forehead as he crossed the street to a bar.
But he paused at the door. The bar would be filled with people he knew, and he felt like drinking alone. So he turned and walked down the street a few blocks, then around the corner and down a few more blocks.
There was a downstairs place that was always crowded, but not with people he knew, so he went in, and shoved his way along the packed bar and found an opening and ordered a bourbon on the rocks.
The place was loud and a thick haze of smoke obscured everything. Hayes gulped his drink down, then ordered another one. He sipped the second drink slowly, and turned from the bar to stare out at the smoke-hazed tables and booths. And just as Hayes took a deep swallow of the bourbon, he saw the side profile of a woman that made him nearly choke.
He forced the whiskey down and moved from the bar, and stared at the woman. Then he saw her clearly.
It was Michelle, sitting with someone at a table just on the other side of the low rail that separated the bar.
Hayes bolted his drink down and ordered another, and then moved cautiously to the rail. Michelle was talking to someone, no, she was obviously having an argument, and though he could not understand what she said, the urgent tone of her words was clear.
He edged forward, and heard her say something about running away and being childish. And then something about, "knowing you better than you know yourself."
And then as Hayes leaned over the rail, a chill raced up his spine, and his mouth fell open. Michelle was talking to Carol!
Hayes poured the bourbon down, and his pulse raced and he froze for an instant. Then without thinking, he moved around the bar, and over to the table where they were sitting.
He stopped at the edge of the table and looked down without speaking. Carol looked up and went white and bit her lip.
But Michelle merely glanced up and smiled slightly. "Oh, hello," she said, very casually.
"What are you two doing here?" he blurted.
"Daddy, what do you mean, talking to Mrs. Martin that way?" Carol asked.
And then Hayes realized Michelle must not have told Carol that they knew each other. He sighed and swallowed. But then his anger flared, and he looked down at Michelle.
"I want to talk to you, alone," he said. "If you don't mind, Mrs. Martin."
"Perhaps later, Mr. Hayes," Michelle said. "Right now, frankly, your daughter and I are having a private conversation."
"Daddy, you're terrible to be so rude and arrogant," Carol said. "Michelle is my friend."
"You keep quiet, young lady," Hayes said. "I advise you to get up and go home immediately. What are you doing drinking this time of the day?"
"Daddy, don't treat me like a child," Carol said. "So help me, I'll move out of the house. I can't even have my own friends, without you running over and acting this way. I think you're the one that's childish."
"Dammit, Carol," Hayes said, and his face went scarlet as he looked down into Michelle's smug, mocking smile.
"I don't want to cause trouble with your father," Michelle said. "So maybe we'd better postpone our talk. But I must say, I see clearly the kind of thing you were talking about."
"Oh, daddy, I hate you," Carol blurted. And she suddenly shoved her chair back and stood up, and Hayes saw tears in the corners of her eyes. She was fumbling in her purse, but Michelle put her hand over Carol's.
"No, dear, I'll get the drinks," she said. "I can easily afford it. Now don't you cry. Everything will work out, if you'll trust me."
Hayes felt weak and a hollowness gnawed at his stomach. He could not believe he was in the middle of this scene between his daughter and his mistress, with both of them treating him with this contempt.
Carol brushed tears from her eyes, and without a word, she turned and walked quickly from the table, and shoved her way along the bar and out the door.
"Well, sit down," Michelle said, impatiently. "You succeeded in running her off, which I assume was your purpose."
Hayes sank wearily into a seat beside Michelle. His face was red and his eyes burned as he turned to her.
"Damn you," he said. "What the hell did you say to Carol? I warned you, Michelle."
"Oh, calm down, darling," she said. "Obviously, I didn't tell her anything about us. But you certainly must have aroused her suspicion, storming over like that, and insisting you talk to me privately."
"Of all the people in town, why the hell do you have to pick Carol to become friends with?" Hayes asked.
Michelle smiled deeply, and laughed. "Walter, I would become friends with Carol, very good friends, if I had never met you," she said. "And Carol needs a friend, a special kind of friend. The kind I can be for her. She's desperately unhappy and uncertain of what to do. Don't blame me for wanting to help the girl. You're largely to blame for the way she is."
"Me to blame?" he asked. "Hell, I've given her everything in the world."
"Walter, darling," Michelle said, and shook her head. She patted his arm. "This is getting tedious, and people are staring. Why don't we go over to my place?"
"Yes, let's get the hell out of here," Hayes said. "Here, I'll get the check." He pulled some bills from his pocket, and put them on the table.
"Why, thank you, Walter," Michelle said, as she stood up. "You always have been generous with your money, with both Carol and me."
The mocking tone of Michelle's words cut into Hayes, and he started to say something. But then he looked down at the way she was swaying her rounded buttocks beneath a tight, red skirt, and he swallowed and went warm all over, as he followed her from the bar.
Hayes sat on the edge of the bed, sipping a strong, cold martini and watching Michelle's reflection in the full-length bathroom mirror as she changed clothes.
His anger seemed impotent as he drank down the gin and vermouth, and stared at Michelle's body now in bra and panties.
"But you still didn't have to see Carol behind my back," he said. "Hell, I thought we were about to work things out, as you wanted."
"Work things out," Michelle said, and laughed. "Agreed to do this and that. Really, Walter, everything for you is in very precise, cold business terms, isn't it?"
Hayes watched Michelle wiggle into a pair of tight, red jeans, then pull on a green blouse. She walked slowly from the bathroom, and smiled when she saw him staring at her body.
"Hell, I'll show you how cold and precise and business-like I am," he said, and walked over to her and put his hands on her waist.
He pulled her body to his, and was electrified at the touch of her breasts against his chest. She did not resist, but she stood ramrod straight, with her hands at her sides.
And she did not move from his kiss, but her lips were clamped together, and he could not force them open. He slid his hands down and cupped her buttocks through the tight, thin jeans.
Then she shoved him away, and stepped back. "Let's argue and fight, or let's make love, Walter," she said. "You can't have it both ways, baby."
"Hell, I don't want to fight," he said, and realized he was breathing heavily. "But what do you expect me to do? Look Michelle, I admit I may have treated you badly, and maybe I was unfair in not showing you more respect. Frankly, it's difficult for me to admit I need anyone. But I'm willing to admit I need you. But don't back me into a corner, and particularly not about Carol."
"And what will happen if I back you into a corner, Walter?" she asked, and cocked her head, and ran her tongue around her full lips.
"I didn't get where I am today by being backed anywhere, Michelle," he said. "Dammit, I said I need you. I've never told anyone that in my life. Not even my wife. You'd be surprised at how many people I've broken, one way or another. I may decide you're not worth the price, and then, heaven help you."
"Geezus, Walter, who writes your lines?" she asked. "That sounds like something from an old, Grade-B movie. I know you need me, darling. And I need you, too, darling. But you must accept the reality, or I'll have to run you along, and attend to my other interests."
"Dammit, Michelle," he started. But he had no idea what to say, and then she stepped to him, and put her hands on his neck, and he gasped when she moved her body against his.
"Dammit, what?" she asked. "I could make you so happy, Walter, if you'd forget this silly thing about how you've clawed your way up, and about how strong and ruthless you are."
He drained the whiskey down in two deep swallows, then walked over and filled the glass and gulped the whiskey again. When he had finished, he set the glass down and turned to her.
"I'm not going to fight you any longer, Michelle," he said softly. "I want you now, and tomorrow, and all the time."
She sat down on the couch and sipped her drink, then set it on the end table. "Come sit down, Walter," she said.
He sank down beside her, and his body jerked as she ran her finger around the rim of his ear. "All right, dear, then no more fighting," she said. "I think we understand each other perfectly now."
She traced her fingers around his ear again, then across his cheek and over his lips. He leaned over and kissed her fiercely, grinding the kiss into her full, moist lips.
She opened her lips, and then flicked her tongue into his mouth, and moved it in ways that made him squirm. And her nails dug into his neck, and she bit the tip of his tongue, and the gentle pain sent a new surge of excitement over his tense body.
He ground the kiss harder, and ripped her blouse open, and slid his hand around and fumbled her bra loose and off. Then he cupped a massive breast and squeezed and stroked.
She dug her nails into his neck again, then lashed the roof of his mouth with her tongue, and he groaned and twisted her nipples between his huge fingers.
She slid down onto the couch, and he lay over her magnificent body, and licked down from her lips, to suck and nuzzle her breasts and nipples with his lips and teeth. And his hands moved down, to unzip her tight jeans.
Her tongue was wet and wild in his ear, and her hands moved down his back, under his shirt. And just as he got the zipper down, and started the jeans off, she twisted her legs together.
He raised himself from her breasts, and looked into her narrowed, mocking green eyes, and the faint, taunting smile on the corners of her moist lips.
"Michelle, stay with me all the time," he gasped out. "I'll do whatever you want, whatever kind of arrangement. I'll even marry you."
"I don't know if I want to marry you, Walter," she said, while her fingers slid down to tickle his body. "But we'll see, dear."
He pried at her legs, but she held them together, so he cupped her breasts, and twisted the nipples, and kissed her lips with a wet kiss as he rammed his tongue into her mouth.
She kissed him a full minute, then twisted her lips away, and moved her legs. His hands scrambled down and worked the tight jeans off.
"Just give me a chance to break things to Carol," he gasped, as he fondled a breast, and tore her flimsy panties off.
Michelle's laugh was harsh. "Yes, little Carol," she said, and shoved her breast into his hand, and bit his ear. "What a cozy family the three of us would make, Walter, darling."
Hayes moved to her mocking lips, and silenced her with a sucking kiss, as he cupped her buttocks. He started working with her, slowly, then urgently, as days of pent-up lust and tenseness soared to a blinding point.
Then he reached the height, and groaned and fell limp on her warm body. He gasped out his pained breath, and then he felt her body start to gyrate slowly beneath him, and in an instant, he was kissing her, and cupping her buttocks, then working blindly with her again.
And later, they lay together, and she stroked his back and he told himself that he had to have her all the time, at whatever cost.
And now that his lust had been slaked, and she had surrendered her body to him again, he chanted to himself that somehow, in some way, he would regain his strength, and would make her pay for the way she had treated him.
He lay with his eyes closed, his breath still coming in rushes, and convinced himself that just as he had had reverses in business, and had come out on top in the end, so he would with Michelle. And he would work things out with Carol, his way, somehow, he repeated to himself, as Michelle's tender fingers lulled him, and he fell into a deep and weary sleep.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Carol sat on the edge of the patio, sipping strong, black coffee, and staring down at the reflection of the setting sun on the glass-smooth water of the lake behind the willow trees.
Nothing made any sense now, and though she had felt that both her father and Tommy had mistreated her, after she gave in to Michelle yesterday, she could not deny what a terrible person she was.
She blushed as she thought of the scene with Michelle on the couch, and how she had enjoyed it, then how wretched and betrayed she had felt. Yet, when Michelle called her today, she had agreed to see her again, if only in a very public place. And Michelle had seemed so certain she knew what she really wanted.
And then to have her father barge in on them, out of nowhere, and act as he did. It wasn't bad enough that he mistreated her, but to storm at Michelle, well that was just too much.
Then Carol blushed again, as she remembered looking up into her father's dark, burning eyes, and fearing for an instant that he was looking right into her, and the terrible thing that had happened with Michelle.
But then she had realized he was just being his usual self, and was probably going to chew out Michelle, who was nearly a stranger to him, just for making friends with his daughter. Now, she wished she had not left Michelle at her father's mercy.
But the real thing was whether she could ever look Tommy in the face again, after that terrible session with Michelle. She was still shocked at herself, and she doubted if she could so much as let Tommy touch her.
But as she crossed over to the window, and stared out at the deepening shadows of early dusk, she remembered Michelle's confidence that her kind of lovemaking would be the only kind Carol would ever want again.
And then again Carol remembered how she had let herself be lulled into the session, then had responded. She had known that kind of thing existed. But to become a part of it herself, well, it was awful. And for it to be with a woman like Michelle, whom she liked so much.
She heard the phone ringing in the hall, and in a minute, Mose came in and told her it was for her. She walked slowly down to the phone, dreading to talk to almost anyone, particularly Michelle.
She picked up the receiver and her heart pounded. It was Tommy.
"I cut my trip short, to get back to you," he said. "Can I come over now?"
"Oh, Tommy, I'm glad you're back," she said. Her heart raced, and she thought of being with him again. But she thought of Michelle, and knew that Tommy would grab her and kiss her, and maybe even be rough and, if not, she would feel wretched after yesterday afternoon.
"Well, can I come over?" he asked.
"No," she said. "I mean, not now, Tommy. I'm glad you're back. Really I am. But so much has been happening. I just couldn't see you now. I really couldn't."
"Carol, baby, I love you," he said. "Don't you understand that? Things are no good if you won't see me. I want to tell you I love you and kiss you and take you in my arms..."
"No, no, not now," she blurted, and she shuddered as she thought of Tommy grabbing her and pawing her and trying to make love to her.
"Carol, you've got to at least see me," he said. "I warn you, I don't give up easily."
"Tommy, please, if you do love me, please listen to me," she said. "I can't see you now, and the more we talk this way, the more upset I'm going to get. Look, I'll call you a little later."
"All right, if that's a promise, "I'll hang up," he said. "But if you don't call, I warn you, I'll come looking for you."
"I promise to call, Tommy," she said, very softly. She knew that she would not call, and she hated herself for lying, but she just could not stand seeing him now, or even talking to him.
"Remember that I love you, baby," he said. "Goodbye."
"Good-bye," she said, and hung up.
She stood a moment, looking down at the phone, and felt desperately lonely, and remembered how happy she had been the few good times with Tommy. Then she thought of her father, and of Michelle, and of staying at home in the huge house and feeling sorry for herself.
She ran down the hall, and out across the porch to her car. She backed down the long, twisting driveway, and shifted gears and squealed off, taking the corner on two wheels.
She drove blindly for a couple of blocks, then stopped for a red light. Suddenly, she realized she wanted to go out to Ethel's. She shifted gears, and turned toward Ethel's and told herself she desperately needed some place like Ethel's, where she could be alone, without feeling lonely.
Ethel's was nearly deserted in the early dusk, and Carol sat at a booth and drank beer. There was a slow, sad song on the juke box, whining saxophones and guitars that fit her mood.
She had just finished a beer when she saw Ethel waddling across the room, with a can of beer in each hand.
"Reckon I'll sit a spell and have something cold before things get busy," Ethel said, as she eased her bulk down into the booth. She shoved a beer across the table.
"Thank you for the beer," Carol said. "And I could use the company."
"You look like you could use something, honey," Ethel said. "Come on, drink up. It's good for what ails you."
Carol watched Ethel pick up her beer in her fat hand, pour it down. Then Carol took a deep swallow from her beer, then another.
"Well, honey, guess I'll go back and see that the beer gets iced," Ethel said. "And you buck up, and drink more and worry less, and things will work out."
"Thank you, I'm sure they will," Carol said, and forced a slight smile as Ethel stood up and waddled away.
Carol sipped her beer as the juke box blared on. Sure, they will work out, she repeated grimly to herself. Sure. And the next swallow of beer, nearly stuck in her suddenly raw throat.
But she forced the beer down, and settled back into the booth, and hummed along with the music. After another beer, she felt a little better, and then she had some whiskey, and then another beer.
She was feeling a little tight, and humming with the juke box when she looked up and saw Tommy coming across the room to her booth.
"I told you I'd hunt you down if you didn't call," he said.
He bent down and kissed her cheek, and she flinched and pulled back. He sat down opposite her, and leaned across the table.
"Tommy, please leave me alone," she said. "I told you I just can't talk to you now."
"Carol, what's wrong?" he asked. "You're in worse shape than when I left. Surely your father can't be doing this to you. Be honest with me, Carol. Have you been involved with another man?"
The sharpness of her laugh startled her, and obviously stunned Tommy. "Another man, Tommy?" she asked. She shook her head. "No, I give you my word, I have not been near another man." Another laugh choked in her throat and she drained her beer. "Another man," she repeated softly, and suddenly felt she would burst out crying.
"Then what's wrong?" he asked.
She sniffled and looked at his handsome, clean-cut face, and clear, blue eyes a moment, then looked away. "Tommy, if you don't get up this minute and leave me alone, I swear I'll start screaming. I swear it."
He shook his head. "Carol, I came back to ask you to marry me," he said. "I still want you to marry me, no matter what has happened. I love you, and I thought you loved me. But all right, I'll leave. I can tell you're on the point of hysteria."
She sniffled again, and looked into the blue eyes and thought how much she did love Tommy, and what a terrible thing she had done while he was away. She leaned over and kissed his lips gently, then pulled away.
"I do love you, but please, please go," she said. "I will call you, I promise."
"I'm in love with a crazy girl," he muttered, and stood up.
He looked down at her a long moment, and smiled softly, then turned and walked away.
Carol tried to force herself to be calm, and knew that Tommy was right, that she was on the verge of hysteria, or of something. She felt that if something else happened, she would jump up and start screaming.
She drank the beer and told herself it was doing her no good to sit here and drink any longer. Yet, she shook her head as she thought of the alternatives. To go home to her father. Or to run to some boy, who would pretend to listen to her, but only be interested in pawing all over her.
Or to see Michelle. No, she told herself, it was far better to sit here and get tight, and go home and fall asleep. It would not solve any of her problems, but she felt so wretched now, all she wanted was just to get through the night.
She drank, and had the funniest feeling and then she suddenly went cold, and she slowly looked up and gasped.
Michelle was standing by the booth, looking down and smiling in that terrible way she had, on the corners of her lips.
"How long have you been staring at me?" Carol asked.
"Oh, a couple of minutes, darling," Michelle said. "You look so lovely when you're distraught like this."
Carol swallowed quickly. "Don't call me darling," she said. "I told you that this afternoon."
Michelle sat down beside Carol. "But you didn't mind yesterday afternoon, did you?" she asked.
Carol blushed and poured down a deep swallow of beer and moved away from Michelle. "Please leave me alone," she said.
"But, Carol, we must continue the talk your father interrupted this afternoon," Michelle said.
"Oh, Michelle, was he terrible to you?" Carol asked. "He can be such a bastard. I'm sorry I ran off and left you at his mercy. He has no right to be nasty with you, just because you're my friend."
"I can assure you, dear, that I was far from being at his mercy," Michelle said. "But you're right, he can be a bastard. Now don't you worry about that. I can assure you that your father and I can become good friends. I'm here now to talk about you. About us."
"I told you this afternoon that there's nothing to talk about," Carol said. "You can't imagine how terrible I feel because of what happened yesterday afternoon. I had no idea that was what would happen."
"But you didn't feel terrible there on the couch, did you?" Michelle asked.
Carol's face went warm and red. "Michelle, please stop talking that way," she said. "I'm not like that, not the least bit, no matter what it seemed like yesterday. Those stingers got me drunk in a strange way, and I trusted you and feel so terrible, and well, I enjoyed-it somehow, and I can't deny that. But, Michelle, that sort of thing is just awful. I had no idea you were like that."
Michelle's smile was gone now, and her lovely face had hardened. "Carol, I know you have to try and rationalize what happened," she said. "Girls always do, the first time or two, until they accept the reality of what they are, and what they want. But don't talk about how awful or terrible I am, or how I betrayed your trust. I won't have that."
"I'm sorry," Carol said. "It happened. I let it happen. I can't erase that, or rationalize it away. But it will never happen again."
"Oh, won't it, Carol?" Michelle asked, as she turned and called the waiter over.
"Two stingers, please," she said.
"Oh, please, no," Carol said.
Michelle's smile was wicked. "Afraid, darling?" she asked. "And here in a public place?"
"No, I'm not afraid," Carol said.
"Two stingers," Michelle repeated to the waiter.
"Michelle, I want to like you and be your friend, despite what happened," Carol said. "But I don't like you when you're this way. Okay. I'll have the stinger. Then I'm going to get up and go home. And if you ever come on me again about yesterday, then I won't be your friend at all. In fact, I'll never speak to you again."
"Oh, very brave, my dear," Michelle said. "But one day, quite soon, you will come back to see me. I know you better than you know yourself, and the first time some boy paws you again, you'll come running back for the kind of loving you got yesterday."
The waiter brought the drinks, and Carol forced herself to take a sip. But she nearly gagged at the taste, and the whole horrible scene yesterday flashed back to her, and then she licked her sticky lips, and shuddered.
"I don't want to be your friend any longer," Carol said. "I really don't. And I don't even want to sit here and talk to you. Now, will you please let me out?"
"But you haven't even finished your stinger, darling," Michelle said. "And you have no idea of the plans I have for us. Something of a cozy family arrangement, that will absolutely astound you, until you get used to the idea."
Michelle suddenly slid her hand under Carol's skirt, and patted her knee. Carol shoved the hand away, and bolted up.
"I swear I'll shove you out of the way if you don't move," Carol said.
Michelle did not move. "All right, I'll let you leave, darling," she said, and her words were hard and her face lined. "But come see me tomorrow. If you don't, I'll haunt you everywhere you go. But come out tomorrow afternoon, and show me how strong you are, and how wrong I am. And with no stingers to lull you and give you a rational. Let's see you resist me, Carol. I dare you. If you can't, you'll never know, and sooner or later it will catch up with you."
Then Michelle moved, and Carol slid out. She looked back at Michelle, and started to speak, then turned and ran across the rough wooden floor, and out the door. Michelle had been her only friend, and now she felt all sick and hollow inside and lonelier and more filled with self-loathing than she had ever thought possible.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Carol walked slowly down the stairs, and into the dining room. She yawned as she sat down at her place at the long table, and poured a cup of coffee. She put in sugar and stirred, then took a tentative sip, which burned her tongue. But she felt better now that she had decided definitely what to do.
Because there was no doubt in her mind that she must accept Michelle's challenge. She shuddered to think of even setting foot in her house again. But Michelle was right in saying it would haunt her, if she did not find out the truth about herself.
She was convinced that she knew the truth. And she was going to have the courage to prove to Michelle and to herself.
She felt she had lost Tommy, and even if she had not, and even if she passed the test at Michelle's, she was still afraid it would be no easier for her to make love to a boy.
She dragged herself slowly down the hall and out to her car. She was calm, but she felt weak and drained. Then as she got into the car and turned the key and the motor whined, she realized she was out of gas. She had barely made it home last night, and now the car would not even start.
She got out and started back to the house to call the service station, when she saw a taxi. She turned and waved and ran down the lawn as the cab pulled up to the curb.
She climbed in and gave the driver Michelle's address. Then she settled back in the seat, and realized her heart was pumping just a bit. She told herself not to be nervous. Then she laughed. Oh no, no need to be nervous, she told herself, just because she was going to give a lesbian the opportunity to seduce her for the second time.
Just thinking the word made her nibble at her lip, and then her heart pounded faster, and she twisted on the seat, and wondered if she could go through with it.
And her heart was really racing when the driver pulled up at the house, and she paid him and stepped out, then walked slowly up to the door.
The door opened immediately, and she looked up into Michelle's broad, wicked smile. "Well, darling, I knew you'd give in, but I thought you'd at least wait until after lunch," Michelle said. "Here, come on in."
Carol stared a moment into Michelle's green eyes, then went into the living room, and asked herself how she had ever liked Michelle, or trusted her so much.
"I'm hardly giving in," Carol said, as Michelle came into the room. "I simply want to get this whole grim business over with. I mean, I'm here to accept your challenge, Michelle, and to prove to both of us how I am really."
"Oh, you sound so dramatic, darling," Michelle said, as she stepped to Carol.
Carol looked again at the wide green eyes, then down past the full lips to the thrust of the huge breasts beneath a thin, green blouse, and to the flare of the hips in a tight, green skirt.
Carol's body tightened as Michelle put her hand to her cheek, then circled her ear with a finger. And Carol realized with dismay that her heart was pumping faster now. Yet, she still felt calm, and confident.
"Do I stand up or sit down, or what?" Carol asked. "Frankly, I don't remember too many of the details from the last time."
"Only the feelings, dear, isn't that right?" Michelle said. "You go sit on the couch and make yourself comfortable. I'm going to fix myself a drink. I'd offer you one, but it's really best you stay completely sober."
"Yes, it is best," Carol said, as she sat down. She watched Michelle fix a drink, then walk leisurely across the room and sit down beside her.
"This is really ridiculous," Carol said. "I feel like an absolute idiot."
"See how you feel in a few minutes, dear," Michelle said, in a very smug voice, and sipped her drink.
Then Michelle leaned over and set the drink on End table, then snuggled close to Carol. And suddenly, Carol felt a little uneasy. And she realized that Michelle sensed this. And though Carol still felt completely confident, she had the fear that she might respond, after all.
"Brave little Carol," Michelle said, and put her hand on her neck, then with expert and tantalizing fingers, she rubbed Carol's neck, then her ear.
But though the fingers were tantalizing and expert, Carol's feeling was one of repulsion at being touched in this way by Michelle, and when Michelle moved her lips to Carol's cheek, Carol had the impulse to shove her away.
And she shuddered as Michelle's lips moved down and kissed her lips. And though Michelle moved her lips in incredible ways, and shoved her wild, knowing tongue into Carol's mouth and worked it in a hundred moves, Carol was not the least excited. Her only feeling was one of self-disgust that she should be here.
She let Michelle unbutton her blouse, and remove her bra. And then she had a moment of panic as Michelle's feather-light fingers worked at her breasts and nipples, and she felt a tingle up her spine. And there was a stronger tingle as Michelle lowered her mouth, and licked and sucked the nipples, and for an instant, Carol had a stab of panic as she felt her nipples harden just a tiny bit.
But the feeling passed in a moment, and then the feeling of outrage returned, and nothing Michelle could do with the breasts, with all the knowledge of her fingers and lips and tongue, could excite her the least bit.
And the feeling of self-disgust grew, and the sense of outrage mounted, as Michelle realized she was not exciting Carol, and worked desperately.
And though another shudder passed over her taut body, Carol let Michelle take her skirt off, and pull her panties down, and slide her fingers to the thighs.
Michelle worked with obvious and increasing desperation, and Carol sat rigid and silent and hated herself and Michelle. And her body stiffened more as Michelle lowered her head from the breasts, to kiss over the smooth stomach, and down to the thighs.
Carol squeezed her eyes together at the wave of contempt that swept over her, but she let Michelle continue, determined to stick this out, so that there would never be any doubt.
But finally, after what seemed an eternity, she could endure it no longer, and she savagely shoved Michelle from her body, and scrambled from the couch.
She started scooping her clothes up, as Michelle got to her feet. And Carol saw that Michelle's face was grim and crimson, and dripped with sweat.
"You little bitch," Michelle said, and reached out for Carol.
But Carol slapped her hand away, and stepped back. "Don't you dare touch me," she snapped. "Just let me get dressed and get out of here. I promise you, you'll never see me again.
Michelle snorted out a laugh, and her face was ugly with hatred. "Won't see you, darling?" she asked. "Why, I'm going to see you every day, and you're going to have little choice. Because you see, my darling-"
"I don't want to hear another word," Carol said. "I loathe you, and myself, for what happened, but it will never happen to me again. Now, I'm going to get dressed in the bathroom and if you come near me, I'll scratch your eyes out."
"You'll be sorry you talked to me this way," Michelle screeched, as Carol ran from the room and down the hall to the bathroom.
Carol slammed the door and locked it. Then with trembling fingers, she pulled her panties on, then tugged her bra over her breasts and fastened it.
Her body was nearly shaking and she felt all warm and queasy. And she looked in the mirror at her white face and disarrayed hair and shook her head.
Then as she picked up her blouse, she heard the doorbell ring, and then she heard Michelle shout, "I told you not to come here again without calling first."
Then Michelle said, in a calm, deadly voice, "But today, I'm glad you came, because I'm tired of hiding things and playing games, and of being insulted."
Then Carol dropped her blouse and gasped.
"I had to see you, Michelle," her father said, very clearly. "Please don't be angry with me, but I'm afraid I'm going to lose you, and I couldn't stand that."
Blood throbbed at Carol's temples, and she went weak all over, as she heard Michelle say, "Do you want to make love to me, Walter?"
And then her father said, in a strange, whining voice she had never heard, "Dammit, yes, Michelle. Please. I want to make love to you, and be with you, and marry you. Please."
Carol staggered against the door for support, and she felt her legs would buckle. Her heart raced, and she felt hot, as she tried to fumble into her skirt.
"And what about your precious Carol?" Michelle asked, and Carol realized the voice was nearer.
"She'll just have to accept the situation," her father said. "Please don't walk away from me, Michelle. Let me at least kiss you."
Carol somehow got dressed, though she was shaking all over at the whining tone of her father's voice. And then as she put her hand to the lock, she heard Michelle's voice, just outside.
"Oh, yes, Walter, your rival for my lovemaking is here, just getting dressed in the bathroom," Michelle said.
Carol went cold all over, then hot, and clamped her lips together until she tasted blood. Just as she felt she would collapse, she forced herself to unlock the door, and shove it open.
"My god," her father gasped, and he went ashen. He looked wildly to Michelle, then back to Carol. "I don't believe it."
And as Carol ran past him, he reached out and grabbed her arm. Carol turned on him with a fury that surprised her, and obviously stunned him.
"Don't touch me," she screamed, and kicked at his legs, and raked her nails down his face until faint rivulets of blood spurted on his cheeks. As he released her, she heard Michelle laughing softly.
"I loathe you," she screamed at her father. "You're nothing but a weak, whimpering fool. I'll never set foot in your house again."
"Carol," he said, so softly she could hardly hear him, and he reached out, and his fingers were trembling.
"Go to hell, both of you," Carol said. "You deserve each other."
She pivoted and ran on rubbery legs down the hall, and out the front door. She stopped to catch her breath, then she realized she had not come in her car. There was a noise behind her, and she started running, across the lawn and then down the sidewalk.
She ran blindly, around a corner, and across a street, and finally collapsed against a tree trunk, and gasped out of breath. Then she dragged herself down the sidewalk again, her steps erratic and slow.
At the corner, she saw a cab and waved to it. She barely made the corner, and staggered into the back seat, hardly able to breathe.
"You okay, lady?" the driver asked.
"I'm all right," she gasped.
"Where to?" he asked, looking over his shoulder.
Without thinking, she laughed out loud. Where to? She had no place to go. No place in the world, and she certainly was not going back to her father's house.
No place except Tommy's, she told herself, and just thinking of him made her feel better. She gave the driver Tommy's address, and he drove off. But she wondered if Tommy would even want to bother with her, after the way she had acted.
Then, when the cab finally pulled up outside his building, and she climbed out and paid the driver, she realized Tommy might not be home. He might be at work. But as she hurried inside, she told herself he had cut his trip and perhaps had not gone back to work.
She did not wait for the elevator, but bolted up the steps, though she nearly stumbled by the time she reached his floor. She walked down the hall, hoping against hope he was home. And that he would understand and be gentle and tender.
She pushed his bell several times, and tried to compose herself. But she knew she looked terrible, and wondered if her guilt and self-loathing weren't written all over her face.
And when Tommy opened the door, he looked down at her as though he had never seen her before, and she felt tears forming in the corners of her eyes.
"I love you, Tommy," she blurted. "Oh, how I love you, and I've done such terrible things you may never want to touch me again, but I love you and need you so much."
For another long instant he looked at her, and then suddenly he picked her up, and pulled her inside and slammed the door. She put her arms around his neck, and kissed his cheek with wet, urgent kisses.
"It's all right, Carol," he said, softly. "Calm down. Everything is all right. I love you, and nothing will happen to you now."
Then he set her down, and cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her lips softly. She hugged herself against him, and looked up into his blue eyes.
"I want to marry you," she said. "If you still want me."
"Of course, I want you, Carol," he said. "I've been worried sick about you."
She sniffled and brushed tears from her eyes. "You may not want me when I tell you what terrible things I've done, Tommy," she said.
He put a finger across her lips. "Tell me later," he said, "If it has to do with that Martin woman, well, I was suspicious about her, and found out quite a bit, and so there's nothing to tell."
"It was awful, and so was I," Carol said.
"Just forget it, darling," he said. "What can I do? Get you something to drink? Would you like to rest?"
"I'd like to make love," she blurted.
"Are you certain?" he asked. "Of course, I want to make love to you, but I don't want to push things, and then, we have to consider..."
She interrupted him with a wet, wild kiss, then stepped back and removed her blouse and skirt quickly. "That's the trouble with you lawyers, you always talk too much at the wrong times," she said.
She posed herself in bra and panties, then she kicked her shoes off and fell back onto the unmade bed. And Tommy fell beside her, and smothered her mouth in a surging tongue-filled kiss.
But he very gently removed her bra and panties, and she mounted to a surging wave of excitement as his lips and tongue and fingers tenderly and knowingly moved about her feverish body.
And by the time they worked together, she was goading him to a fury, and she writhed and groaned, and in a last moment of rationality told herself she never wanted anyone to love her but Tommy.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Hayes sat numbed in a haze of alcohol, and chanted to himself that he was rich and powerful, and that all his dreams and ambitions had come true. He repeated to himself that he should be content, here in his mansion, with everything he had wanted.
"And I did it alone," he muttered, and stumbled up and poured bourbon into a glass.
"Alone," he repeated, as he glanced at his watch, and saw that it was nearly one. He poured the bourbon down. And thought of his daughter who had run away to find love and now wouldn't see or talk or write to him.
Then he lurched over to the window, and stared absently down at the moon reflected on the still lake. Alone, he said to himself. And if he had done all this alone, come from nowhere and acquired all this power and wealth, then why did he take this abuse from Michelle? His bitch of a wife.
He went over and sat down on the couch and told himself that he was going to put an end to this. He had to admit he needed Michelle now, and was obsessed with making love to her.
But he was still far too strong to have her do this to him. He wrinkled up his face, and drained his bourbon. And he did not even have a man as a rival.
He pulled himself up, and went over and put on a stack of records and hummed with the music as he mixed a drink. Then he heard Michelle's car in the driveway, and he stiffened, and shoved the drink aside.
He heard her come in, but she walked right past the den.
"Michelle!" he called.
"Oh, hello, Walter," she said, as she came in. "Are you still up?"
"I've been waiting for you," he said. "You told me you'd be home early."
"Yes, I did, dear," she said. "Well, I was detained. And now I have a headache, and simply want to go right to sleep."
He moved to her, and put his hands on her waist. "Sleep, hell," he said. "I've been waiting all day, and for hours tonight, just to make love to you."
She tugged his hands from her waist. "Please, Walter, don't be tedious," she said. "I told you I have a headache."
"Tedious," he said, and a wave of anger flooded over him. "You're my wife, Michelle. And I've been thinking while you were gone-"
"That's always a sign of trouble," she said, and smiled prettily, with her green eyes wide.
"Don't play games with me," he said. "I'm getting damn tired of your running around on me all the time, and I intend to do something about it."
"Walter, we settled this before we were married," she said. "Now, please, stop bringing it up."
"Dammit, I expect you to be a real woman," he snapped.
She smiled. "Did it ever occur to you, darling, that you might not be much of a real man?" she said.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Well, the only women who make love to you, darling, do it because of your money," she said. "Frankly, if you were a better lover, I'd be more interested in staying home and making love to you more often."
"Damn you, Michelle," he said, and he went hot with fury at her insult. "I've had all of this I'm going to take."
"And what are you going to do?" she asked.
"I could divorce you," he said.
"But I might not give you a divorce," she said.
"I would have plenty of grounds," he said. "Adultery is always sufficient."
Her laugh cut into him. "And who, my darling, would you name as the co-respondent?" she asked. "I can just picture you having your name dragged through the divorce courts, because of your wife's special kind of lovers. Then people in town who hate your guts would really have the last laugh, and all the men would make jokes when I testified about your lovemaking ability."
The fury swelled in him, and he raised his hand to strike her, but she suddenly stepped to him and pressed her lips against his. He lowered his hand and ground the kiss harder, and rammed his tongue into her mouth. A surge of lust quickly replaced his anger.
Then she pulled her lips away. "See, Walter, you kiss very poorly," she said.
And as he started to speak, she moved to him again, and took his hands and placed them on her buttocks, and he cupped the rounded buttocks, and squeezed them, and tried to pull her tighter against his body.
But she twisted away, and he stared with open mouth as she quickly took her tweed suit off, and stood in bra and panties and stockings and heels. She unsnapped her bra, and put his hands on her breasts, and he grabbed the mounds desperately, and squeezed and twisted.
Then she stepped from his grasping hands, and laughed.
"See, Walter," she said. "You don't know how to play with my buttocks, or excite my breasts, dear. Frankly, I think it was the thought of making love to you that gave me a headache. Good-night, darling."
His breath poured out and sweat fell from his feverish face as he watched Michelle turn and walk from the room, rolling her panty-clad buttocks excessively.
He clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides, and took a step toward her as she disappeared through the door. Then he glanced down at her discarded clothes.
He swallowed and turned to the bar and bolted down the drink he had earlier shoved aside. He picked up the bottle of bourbon, and lowered himself to the couch and put the bottle to his mouth.
He drank deeply, and the whiskey spilled over his slightly-quivering lips. He brushed the whiskey away and slumped down on the couch.
He told himself that as soon as he had a couple more good belts, he would go upstairs and show Michelle what kind of a damn lover he was. He tried to get angry at the way she had humiliated him, and he told himself that she would pay, and that he would have her screaming with desire to make love.
But he drank again, and again. And he lapsed into thoughts of his struggle in town, and how he had clawed his way up from nothing. Clawed his way up, alone and without help.
Yes, he chanted to himself, he would go upstairs and make Michelle love him. But just for a minute, he would allow himself the luxury of remembering how independent and self-sufficient he had been.
He drank the bourbon and his eyes closed, and then the bottle slipped from his fingers and he fell asleep.