Chapter 4
The late-model, powder-blue Buick swerved around the mountain curves at top speed, squealing rubber and straining the high-powered motor. It was late afternoon and the autumn sun had already dipped behind the rocky hills. Long shadows loomed across the road in that mysterious twilight before dark.
The woman, her jaw set in defiance, braced herself on the passenger's side of the front seat. She was an attractive woman, perhaps in her late thirties. It was difficult to tell since she wore makeup well, and had no telltale signs of age about her face. Her body, wrapped in a mink coat, was also well-preserved; and when viewed in a bathing suit or totally nude, she could compete with most girls in their early twenties. But she had a teenage son and daughter. The expression on her attractive face was grim. She eyed the man in the driver's seat with disdain. He was the father of her children, the man to whom she had given nearly seventeen years of her life. The contemptuous glance she gave him darted back to the curving road and the swiftness with which shadowed objects seemed to pass them. Several times she started to speak, to reprimand his reckless driving, but she bit her tongue, sucked her breath deeply into her lungs and held to the armrest for dear life.
Fred Smith, Rose's business man-type husband, also sat with a firm jaw as he twisted the steering wheel from one side to the other. The squealing of the tires seemed to underline his urgency for arriving in Denver at the soonest possible moment. It was in the Colorado capitol that Fred and Rose Smith intended to file divorce papers and end their turbulent marriage.
Fred was a good-looking man, long-faced with well-chiseled features. He worked out regularly at the Y, and jogged whenever possible. He, too, did not look his age, more like a virile twenty-seven-year-old. At his office in a Pueblo engineering firm, he was considered by the secretaries (and anyone else that might be impressed by masculine beauty) to be by far the most attractive, and the one with whom any and all would gladly be stranded on a deserted island. There was no doubt about it, Fred Knox was the ideal Mr. America candidate (of a few years back), and still no slouch. Unfortunately, as far as the girls at the company were concerned, Fred had been a devoted husband, who did not, most emphatically because of religious reasons, trifle with an occasional dalliance on the side. Nor did Rose Smith, for the same reason, deviate from the prescribed husband-wife sexual relationships—although this had left them bored silly for the past several years.
Now it had come to the point that the Smiths were completely sexually incompatible—and frustrated. Twice Rose had caught her husband masturbating in the shower, and any number of times, Fred felt the bed jiggling long after he pretended to be asleep, certain that Rose was massaging her clitoris to gain some sort of physical release. Yet neither would admit to their need for sexual expression. Consequently they had drifted further and further apart toward this ultimate solution of divorce—and perhaps a brighter future.
"Fred! Please! It's almost dark. You know how your eyes are at night!" Fear tinged Rose's normally melodious voice.
"I know what I'm doing!" Fred had a gruff exterior to hide his emotional reaction at this whole situation of divorce. It was Rose's idea, not his, but, by God, he would see it through, even if it ruined the children's lives and all. He had proposed they remain together at least till the children were grown. But Rose had been insistent about starting the action now. Perhaps, deep within herself, she felt that might spur them into seeking counseling.
A dark figure darted across the road. Fred slammed on the breaks, spinning the car in such a way that it nearly skidded to the edge of a cliff. In fact, the rear tires were just barely hanging on to the soft shoulder.
"Damn! Goddamn it to hell!"
"Oh, my Lord!" Rose was nearly in a state of shock. "Please don't swear, Fred."
"What was it that ran across the road?" Fred craned his eyes to see, then turned off the ignition to get out and look. "Probably a deer or something." When he saw the position of the wheels, he let out a low whistle. "Now, there's nothing to worry about, Rose—but I think you'd better get out of the car for a few minutes."
Rose did as she was told, and shrieked when she saw how near they were to going over the ridge. Fred had been warned to be careful driving at night in the city. He was fairly cautious and wore his driving glasses. But he had not brought the glasses along on this trip. Rose sighed deeply and pulled the fur coat around her body, shivering from reaction and the cold wind that was whistling through the nodding trees.
The wheels spun in the soft shoulder of granite gravel alongside the road. The smell of burning rubber was pungent before the tires finally took hold and rolled the car away from its precarious position. Fred then motioned for her to get back into the car.
Rose decided it best to keep quiet and hope Fred learned his lesson. He did drive a mite slower, but there was still eager urgency in his handling of the car.
"Fred," Rose said a while later, "maybe we should stop somewhere for the night—I mean up here in the mountains—at a resort or something. We don't have to be in Denver until tomorrow afternoon."
"Rooms are higher-priced up here. You know what resort prices are. Remember two summers ago when we went to Estes Park? Outrageous!" Fred pressed the accelerator with a heavy foot.
"Fred! Please!"
Fred ignored her protestations and drove hell-bent into the now night-enshrouded road.
A few moments later two luminous eyes loomed in the road ahead of them. They seemed not to move. Fred eased his foot on the gas pedal and slowed nearly to a halt. The eyes, or whatever they were, disappeared. Cold sweat bubbled out on the man's forehead, fear trembled his body. Instinctively he groped at his crotch; then raised his hand from there to mop his brow. He slowed the car to a bare crawl.
"Fred? Are you all right?"
The man sighed, making a peculiar rasping noise. "Yes—I think so. I wish I had brought my glasses."
"I wish you had, too."
Fred took the next several turns at an extremely slow pace. Fear seemed to be overtaking his body as though he were attempting to drive blindfolded.
A light was up ahead, illuminating a sign. The car came to a halt before it.
Rose read: "E-Z Mount Lodge and Resort, 500 yards ahead. Ed and Zoe Jones, proprietors."
Fred cleared his throat. He always hated to admit defeat, but he realized he had no other choice. "Well, all right. We'll register as man and wife, but, by heaven, we'll take separate rooms."
"I have no desire to sleep with you anyway," Rose replied proudly. "You snore."
"I have an adenoid condition."
"It still comes out like snoring." Rose swallowed a smile that tried to play at her lips. She had won a point in convincing him to take a room in the mountains.
The car rounded the next two curves at a slow crawl. Up ahead they could see the cold light that shone on the E-Z Mount sign. The Buick was hardly moving as it glided into the driveway. The engine was turned off and the Smiths sat in a stunned silence, neither moving. They had arrived after an agonizing drive.
"Well, let's see if they have any rooms," Fred said after he had breathed deeply several times. "You coming?"
Ed Jones had come out to the counter to answer the bell. The front door was unlocked because the McAns had gone up to Evergreen for dinner. Steve and Dot had retired early, as they wanted private togetherness that night, and Ed and Zoe had planned the same. They were merely waiting for the McAns to return so they could lock up.
Ed stared into the almost angry expressions of the Smiths as they stood apart on the other side of the counter. Neither smiled, and, in fact, each wore rather sober expressions.
"Have you any rooms for the night?" Fred managed a pleasant smile, one which he could turn on at will for business purposes. He was still shaking.
"A double bed for two?" Ed was all smiles and hospitality.
"No," Rose interrupted, "two singles. My husband and I are on our way to Denver to get a divorce."
"Rose, that isn't necessary. I'm certain this man isn't interested in our private affairs." Fred was embarrassed.
"Well, I think we can fix you up okay," Ed beamed. "Going to Denver to get a divorce, huh?" He eyed the strangers. Obviously they were not going to divulge anything further. Ed smiled and flashed his eyes first from Fred's stern expression to Rose's. "Let me see, I can give you adjoining rooms—"
"It wouldn't matter if they were at extreme ends of the hallway," Fred said, and cast an expression of disdain at his wife.
"Having sex problems, huh?" Ed had his head lowered as he flashed his eyes, looking from one to the other of the people across from him.
"Sex?" Rose snapped.
"I don't think that's any of your business." Anger welled in Fred's voice. "Have you two rooms, or haven't you?"
"Why, yes, I believe we have. Let me check with my wife." Ed moved to the door of their private apartment. "Oh, Zoe, mind coming out for a few minutes?" He turned back to the Smiths. "Mind filling out this card while she's on her way. Or perhaps you'd rather fill out two cards?"
When Zoe appeared, buttoning her dress and walking as if she had not quite gotten into her shoes, Ed was examining the card which Rose Smith had filled out. "What is it, Ed?" She eyed the couple. "Oh, hello, I'm Zoe Jones—this is Ed."
The Smiths forced smiles.
Zoe peered over Ed's arm to read the card. "Fred and Rose Smith. Glad to know you." She was turning on her hostess charm to a rather cold reception.
"Zoe, Mr. and Mrs. Smith are on their way to Denver to get a divorce," Ed whispered.
"A divorce?" Zoe's voice was close to a shriek. "Oh, dear, and you look like such a nice couple, too."
"You'll have to excuse my wife," Ed said to two stoic expressions across the counter, "she has her own opinions as to why marriages don't last, and always feels it her duty to see what she can do to-"
"I'm afraid our marriage has gone beyond any salvation," Rose interrupted. "Now if you'll show me to my room, I wish to retire early."
"Certainly." Zoe retained her smile, but a look of worry had come to her eyes. "I'll show you up, and Ed can finish down here and show your husband." She circled around the counter, but before she took Rose's arm, she turned back to appraise the man watching them. Was she mistaken, or was there a glint of interest on Fred Smith's part in her body? She decided to play a hunch, Taking Rose Smith's arm, she guided her toward the stairs.
"Oh, and Fred," Rose turned back from the third step, "I'll need my overnight bag from the back seat of the car."
"Yes—ah—dear—I mean—" Fred forced a grin, then smiled sheepishly back at Ed. "How much do I owe you?"
"Too bad you can only stay one night ... " Zoe chatted like she and Rose had been friends for years. "The aspens are just getting beautiful—my favorite time of the year."
Rose made an affirmative sound and scanned her eyes about the dark hallway. In a way she was glad Zoe was so friendly. Rose needed a friend, someone she could confide in. Her friends at home, or at least her acquaintances, were close to both Fred and her. She was always afraid things would get back to him. Did she dare confide in a friendly stranger?
"You know, Mrs. Smith," Zoe said as she pushed open the door to her room, "—oh, that sounds so formal—do you mind if I call you Rose?"
"No, certainly."
"And, remember, I'm Zoe. Well, anyway, this being the off-season, we have very few customers. As a matter of fact—and a real strange situation—we have two sets of twins who are married to each other—"
"You have?" Rose flushed. "Sorry, for some reason, the way you said that suggested—you'll think this silly—but suggested sexual overtones."
"Did it? Did it, indeed?" Rose had picked up on Zoe sooner than Zoe thought she might. She closed the door behind her and acted mysteriously. "Well, let me put it this way, both couples have a thing for having sex together—you know, like the French say, au fam Hie. "
"You mean—?" Rose's mouth was open wide, a shocked expression on her face. "How do you—?"
"May I ask you a question, Rose?"
"Well, certainly."
"Are you broad-minded?"
"Somewhat. Why?"
Zoe braced herself against the dresser. "When was the last time you had sex with your husband?"
"Well, I don't think that's-"
"Do you really want to divorce him?" Zoe delivered her words rapid fire.
"Of course—we're—well, incompatible." Rose was a bright red.
"Are you? Really?" Zoe smiled directly into the woman's eyes. "When was the last time you had sex together?"
"It's—well, it's been some time." Rose cleared the huskiness that was invading her throat.
"Why?"
"Well, I don't think—" Rose had an indignant smile, one that indicated that her privacy was being rudely interrupted. It was a club woman smile. Then her face suddenly sagged as if her facade had melted. "I don't know why, Zoe, I honestly don't. Something happened to us."
"And you've not had sex with anyone else?"
"Goodness no!"
"Sorry you sound so shocked, Rose, because what I have to suggest is a remedy of good, old-fashioned sex."
"Sex? Oh, dear! Not with Fred!"
"No not with Fred." Zoe grinned like a Sunday School teacher about to address her class. "With my husband, Ed."
"With your—??? Heavens, what a thought!" Rose was crimson as she backed down to sit on the bed.
"He's got a fair-sized cock," Zoe added. "And he does have an excellent technique, if I do say so myself."
Rose flustered. "You mean to say you would permit your husband to—well, do that with me?"
"Why not? We believe in sexual freedom." Zoe was suddenly very clinical. "It doesn't mean we love each other any less because we have sex with others—in fact, it spices up our sex life so that we don't get bored with each other."
"Mercy, I've never heard of anyone being so candid about sex." The bright redness was beginning to leave Rose's face as interest replaced it. "To tell you the truth, it's been at least a year and a half— Oh, I didn't mean to admit that!"
"Good." Zoe patted her on the shoulder. "Then Ed will be just the thing you need."
"Oh, no, I don't think so—I—" Rose stood. "Well, maybe—but—where would you be while we were—? I mean— Oh, dear, this is difficult to discuss."
"Why, I'll be in bed with your husband." Zoe shrugged impishly. "Where else?"
"You mean—?" Rose's laughter was more surprise than anything else. "Fred's impotent."
"Want to bet?" Zoe winked.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Rose, I have a feeling you won't be going any further north than E-Z Mount Lodge before you and Fred go back to Pueblo like—well, like you used to."