Chapter 12
THE EARLY AFTERNOON SUN LEANED IN AT THE window like the bronzed arm of a young athlete.
I sighed and turned my naked breasts toward it, letting the warm fingertips of its touch caress the scarlet, thickening nipples of my tits. I smiled and stretched lazily, throwing back the bedcovers so that the full effect of the rough warmth could touch me all over and slide into the nooks and crannies of my awakening flesh.
The hot sun licked hungrily at me, like a male aflame with desire.
The fantasy amused me for several minutes, during which I turned this way and that, crawling up on my knees and spreading my ripe, full buttocks open for the warm, carnal sun-fingers to touch, explore; then twisting over on my back and lifting my thighs, I spread them slowly, teasingly apart until the pouting lips of my pussy gaped open out of the softly curling genital hair like a kitten's pink mouth. The sun seemed to grow hotter, focusing like a probing tongue between my legs.
I grinned, loving it, loving all of it!
Finally, I pulled myself up on the edge of the bed and fumbled for a cigarette. I struck a match, the flame hissing into life. I took a deep pull on the cigarette, and tossed the match into the crystal ashtray on the nightstand.
Stella's ashtray.
I glanced around at the room.
Stella's room-and now mine.
A faint smile stole secretly over my lips as I thought of how lucky I was to come by all this, to take
Stella's place here at the warden's house. But I was even luckier than Stella. I didn't have to pretend I loved Warden Baker, didn't have to sneak away from him, trick him, pretend to preserve the image of house maker and wife.
I was none of those things to the warden.
I was merely available to him when he wanted me. And since he was an old man, a crippled old man, that wasn't as often as you might think.
Stella's words came back to me, like frantic fireworks in the night: Ben Baker was once as degenerate as the rest of them ... animals rutting and snatching from any female ... the only difference is, Ben Baker is too smart to get sent to jail for it ...
Stella was right, he was smart. A smart old lecher hiding behind his cloak of respectability. But not too old to keep his hand in, to slaver and crawl for something that all men had to have or die ...
I remembered again his hand on my arm, his warm sheep-dog eyes locking into mine that day I returned. His voice, husky and sad and earnest: "Mary, I know it's been a terrible ordeal for you-ghastly being literally held hostage by that demented young sex maniac. I can't tell you how relieved I am to have you back, safe and sound. You owe your survival, of course, to Joe. The minute he realized what had happened, found King dead and all that, he turned himself in and we instigated a full scale search on the strength of that clue you left scrawled on the door. We found you just in time, my dear, just in time!"
Perhaps ... if you consider that my fate might have been that of Rita's.
Poor, stupid, foolish Rita. They had found her body, endlessly violated, in the cellar of the old house. Her breasts had been sucked raw, her vagina extended twice its normal size by the relentless, all-night thrusts of Todd's insatiably long prick.
And so I had been saved from that ...
Sweet little Joe-sweet, dear Joe had sacrificed his freedom to save me from that.
You understand, of course, Mary, that Joe is still in very serious trouble ... he helped kill Monk, he threatened my life and the life of Stella, he was an accomplice in the death of King and ... therefore, he must be transferred to the Federal Prison at Warrensburg ...
Yes, yes, of course, Warden. Poor Joe. Good-bye Joe.
"And Stella?" I had asked, almost petulantly. "Where is Stella, your wife?"
The warden's eyes, downcast, sad again, his voice generating a tone as artificial as a funeral wreath: "Stella has left me, Mary. She loved Monk. I had known that for sometime, but did nothing ... with Monk dead, she left me. She wants a divorce...."
"I see."
The warden's clever old snake's eyes, twisting over my body, wrapping in their imagination around the tender buds of my young breasts, "But I'd like for you to stay here, Mary. I've talked to your father, to Phil. He was against it at first, thought you wouldn't want to tarry behind these walls another second after-after all this. But he agreed to leave it up to you, knowing how dedicated you are to your work, to helping these young men...."
"Yes, I want to help these young men."
"I agree that you should, Mary. And I think you can be of great ... ah ... companionship to me. I don't require much attention, of course, only small ... favors...."
The warden's timid little proposition always came back to me in moments of idleness like this, making me smile over the cleverness with which he got what he wanted.
And got me what I wanted.
I finished the cigarette and walked, naked to the shower, dragging the thin-silk dressing robe behind me. I turned on the taps and let the soft warm water shoot down over my shoulders and breasts. The pellets of water bounced pleasurably across my trim buttocks.
When I was through, I dried myself carefully, paying particular attention to those little secret crevices that would otherwise go unnoticed in a casual bather. But this was no casual bath, and I was no casual bather. This was a preparation.
I hummed briefly as I stared at the glistening array of perfumes and powders at my command. Finally, I selected one that smelled of the outdoors-green leaves and the soft, funky smell of moist herbs. I touched each nipple and each ankle and the inside of each thigh.
Then I slipped on the thin, almost transparent robe and walked quickly back to my bed. The sunlight was streaming fully now onto the white sheets. I glanced at the little clock on the table.
Soon now ... very soon.
I peeled the robe off, and let it drop on the floor in a careless heap. I throbbed once urgently at the center of my being as I crawled lithely into the middle of the bed. I lay down, drawing my legs up slightly and adjusting the pillows behind my head.
I waited: one minute, two minutes, three ...
And then I heard the front door open softly and close again. I heard the lock snap with a hard, sure click. My breathing became harder, and the throb between my legs started to build to a kind of wanton drum-beat.
Hurry-hurry with what you have for me!
My eyes were riveted to the door of the bedroom.
And-suddenly he appeared, his prison gray clothes dull against the frame of the door. His hard young face was tanned and handsome beneath a swatch of black, curling hair.
"Hi," he said, huskily, hesitantly. "I'm Bill ... Pete sent me over in his place today. Said he couldn't make it. Okay with you?"
I raked a glance over his strong, young body.
"Have you had many women?" I asked, quietly.
"Sure," he breathed, his eyes already hardening with lust. His hands fumbled at his belt. I smiled.
I watched as he slid his trousers to the floor and hauled them over his heavy, prison shoes. He unbuttoned his shirt and removed it. Then he sat down in a chair, and quickly took off his shoes and socks.
He stood at the edge of the bed now, clothed only in his shorts. I studied the generous bulge that was growing there, and felt weak with desire.
"Come here," I whispered, patting the space beside me. "But first-take off everything."
His hands thumbed willingly into the top of his shorts, and he worked them down over his lean hips. He stood up again-young, naked, aroused.
He came to the bed and sat down at the edge. I knew then that he was much less experienced than he pretended. That excited something deep inside me. It meant that he was not only young and willing-but that I could train him to do what I wanted.
"Touch me," I said.
His hand came out and cupped one of my breasts. He breathed hard. I grinned as I watched his promising rod rise to a stiff erection between his legs.
"You want to please me, don't you?" I whispered.
"Yes."
"Then I want you to rape me."
He swallowed uncertainly, but his hand tightened on my breast and his thumb began to nurse the swelling nipple.
"If ... if that's what you want," he husked. "I'll do my best."
I pulled my burning legs higher-and opened them. "That's what I want," I purred, softly, "just your very best...."