Chapter 3
"HI, THERE. I'M BACK."
He was startled from his fantasizing. No voice from a dream, that. She was back.
He hadn't shut the door of the bathroom. It was about halfway open. As she came into her bedroom, she could see into the bathroom to see him in the tub. He blushed and felt like an idiot. She started toward the bathroom.
"Don't come in here," he exclaimed. Even to himself his voice sounded funny-panicky.
She stopped, laughing. "My goodness! I just thought maybe you'd like your back scrubbed."
Her words gave him an eerie feeling. That's just what he had been thinking. It was as if she had read his mind as she entered.
"No, no, that's all right," he told her, although in the back of his mind, he wanted to say, yes, yes. If he'd been more experienced. But he had had nothing to do with such a high-class person. What if he should let her come in and do his back? There were suds enough to conceal his private parts, but what if they should blow aside and she could see what now he felt-desire rising visibly again?
"Well, hurry up, slow-poke," she said.
"You go in the other room."
"All right."
She turned to go. He stopped her by saying, "Where's my underwear?"
"Come out and dress," she said. "I can't do that!"
"I'll get you a robe." She went to the closet that stretched one whole side of the bedroom and got her least feminine-looking bathrobe, but even that was too frilly for him.
"Get my underwear," he begged.
"I will," Elizabeth answered. "But come into the other room. Put a bath towel around you."
"Why?" he asked.
Elizabeth mischievously pretended to misunderstand. "Why? Well, I don't care if you want to come out like that."
"I meant why do you want me to come into the other room?"
"You'll see. A surprise," she replied airily, and left.
He Jumped out of the tub and wiped himself off hurriedly. He thought of putting on his outer clothes without his underwear, then thought that would be uncomfortable. Besides, if she wanted to play games, all right.
He took the biggest towel he could find and wrapped it around his waist. Then he ventured out of the bathroom, across the tickley beige carpeting, and went into the living room, with its dark maroon settee and arm chairs. She had just returned from the washer with his underwear in one hand. She held it up to him.
"Here," she said. He went toward her, but she teasingly moved her hand. He made another motion for his things, and she twisted her arm behind her back. This time he lunged for it, and caught the two pieces, but he was very close to her and his towel almost parted too much on one side. Blushing, he started for the bedroom.
"Put it on here," she ordered.
"Why?"
"Oh, you're so inquisitive," she commented, pretending annoyance, as she might have at any stubborn little boy. "Do as you're told." As he just stood there uncertainly, she said, "My goodness, I'm not going to peek-a-boo."
This made him feel very provincial, but he stepped back of the settee, and put the undershirt on, then carefully pulled up the shorts under the towel. He never took his eyes from her, half-afraid she'd try to surprise him at some inopportune moment and shout "Boo!" at him or something.
But Elizabeth was busy with a package that she had obviously brought back from her shopping trip. When it was opened, he saw it was a colorful sport shirt and a pair of slacks. She turned to him and bit her lip to keep from laughing as she saw how he cowered behind the settee, crouching a little, the towel still knotted firmly around his middle. She tossed the shirt to him. "It's one of those that should fit anyone of your build," she informed him. "Same with the pants-they have that elastic waist that's supposed to be all right for anybody."
Eddie was thoroughly puzzled. "These are for me?"
She sighed, "Who else, dummy?"
"But why?"
She was tired of his constant questioning and shot back, "They had a sale at the Salvation Army store. Put them on."
Slowly, he did. He took the pins out of the shirt and put it on. Then he stood looking at her until she got the message and turned away. He quickly dropped the towel and got into the trousers. He felt embarrassed when the zipper made a noise.
Elizabeth turned. When he still stood there, she ordered, "Well, come out from behind there. Let's see if I guessed right."
Eddie walked out, feeling foolish. And he reddened again when Elizabeth looked him up and down appraisingly, then wondered, "Are they too tight?"
He felt she was focusing right on his crotch, and the pants did seem too tight, but he turned away and told her hurriedly, "No, no, they're fine. But ... but...."
The woman finished for him, "But why? Your clothes are shabby," she said matter-of-factly. Eddie wanted to take offense at her words. His clothes were shabby, but it seemed the height of bad taste to hurt somebody by saying so. But she added, "I was poor. I know how it feels. I don't mean to hurt your feelings. Don't be proud-I mean false pride."
Mostly at that moment he thought about her statement that she had been poor. He had never thought about the source of her wealth-just the end result; the clothes, the car, the apartment. Only now did it occur to him that it was possible she hadn't always been this rich, even though she gave every indication that she had lived in luxury all her life.
But he couldn't quite come out and ask her openly about herself, and he let her guide him into another smaller sitting-room and asked him if he'd have tea ... or how about a small glass of sherry.
That sounded all right to Eddie, in a daze as he was. He didn't know what sherry was, and was pleasantly surprised to see the small glass of beautiful amber liquid which she magically produced from a small antique cabinet and whisked into his hand. He sipped at it and didn't like it, but pretended he'd been sipping sherry for years. Actually, he'd never had any alcohol other than some beer once in a while back in that small town, provided by some boy who had sneaked it from home or had some older friend buy it for him.
Despite his dislike of the drink, he poured it down. And she refilled his glass. He didn't know it, but it was getting to him. He was warming up. Relaxing and semi-dreaming again, as in the bathtub. He kept up a more animated conversation with Elizabeth than he ever had, laughing and making jokes. She liked him this way, he could see, enjoying himself and being his more normal self, not on guard as he had been. While he was talking, he was again fantasizing. Beautiful Elizabeth, he noted her every feature. She sat on the edge of a sofa, one hand on her hip, holding back her suit coat, the other with her glass. Her shapely legs shone in their nylons, revealing far above the knee. Her blouse bulged roundly with her breasts. What if he should reverse the process now?-Unzip these nice new slacks, unbutton and remove the shirt, and take her into the big bedroom with the lime bedspread...?
He had not only warmed by this time, but was sweating. He felt his tongue thicken, and he couldn't always find the right word he wanted. Well, what words did he need? he thought to himself. Just something like, Elizabeth, old dear-let's get to bed.
Just about that time, the doorbell rang, and Elizabeth got up to answer it. She returned in a minute with a little boy. In his stupefied condition, it took Eddie a long moment to realize this was Tommy, her son.
It flashed through Eddie's mind to be annoyed at this interruption. But interruption of what? some clear, inner voice snarled in question. Did he really think that he-Edward Kilby, a snot-nosed eighteen-year-old in torn (if clean) underwear was going to bowl over this goddess?
By mental exertion, he tried to sober up. It didn't help, of course, but he was able to control himself enough to move with exaggerated but unstaggering gestures, and to not say much, so he wouldn't betray his condition.
Eddie was introduced to Tommy, and the little boy seriously shook hands and murmured, "How do you do?" He seemed a nice, polite little kid to Eddie, who now felt like a damned fool standing there in his bare feet.
Elizabeth asked him to stay for dinner with her and Tommy, and then she'd drive him to school with her when the baby-sitter came.
But Eddie wouldn't stay. He quickly got her to get his socks from the drier, and he had her wrap his old clothes in the paper from the store in which his shirt and slacks had come. She smiled, but did as he requested. She would have burned the worn stuff, but she knew how it was to be poor and to hang on to everything one could.
Eddie took the city bus to his boarding house. He threw himself on the bed and put his arm over his eyes. He still felt dizzy from the wine, but he felt shame too. He wasn't ungrateful, but he hated to be in the position of being pitied, to have someone else-a stranger, practically-buy him a gift because she felt sorry for him.
Someday he'd have money like that. Someday.
He didn't even try to get up to go to classes. He didn't feel good, in his stomach or his mind. And he didn't want to see his benefactoress right away again, either. He wanted to figure how he should meet this new development in his life.
Eddie was shy of Mrs. Hanover for the next few weeks, but she persisted in visiting with him at the school. Besides, did he really want to stay away from her altogether? he asked himself.
She puzzled him, no doubt of that, but what had he to lose, to associate with such a pretty-and rich-creature? Nothing to lose. And a lot to gain. He didn't like the idea of her giving him those clothes. " Didn't like the idea, but liked the clothes themselves. So he was torn two ways in his regard for her.
She asked him to dinner and he couldn't turn it down. Every meal he got free meant less expenditure.
It was a night that there were no classes. It was also the night that the housekeeper was off. This he noted, although he really didn't know what to make of it.
He thought he'd please her by wearing the sports shirt and slacks she had purchased for him. But when she opened the door to admit him, she raised her eyes in mock dismay, "A sports shirt for dinner!" Then she added, "We'll have to get you a suit."
That made Eddie uneasy again. He hadn't wanted things to go that way-he looked like he was hinting.
But Elizabeth dismissed the subject; Eddie could tell that she had decided she would buy him a suit and that was that-no discussion necessary.
She had prepared the meal and it was excellent. It was expensive food-the best steaks-but plainly done, suited to an uncultivated male taste. And there was wine-several kinds. She proved herself a very capable little housewife and superb companion.
The only drawback to the early evening, as Eddie saw it, was Tommy. Not that her son was in any way bratty or loud or even obtrusive in any boisterous way. He was just there. His presence added an unwanted note for Eddie. A realistic note. He wanted Elizabeth to be an airy princess of his dreams. But this kid was a living, breathing proof that she was a flesh-and-blood woman who had done that earthy, sex business with some guy-and had this product to show for it. It was for Eddie like grasping a beautiful and ethereal sprite-and having her burp in his face.
But after dinner, the boy went off to parts unknown in the apartment house, while Eddie and Elizabeth sipped their brandy from great snifters. The first gulp of it and he choked. And that's what he'd done gulped it like beer. Wow! His eyes watered.
"Slowly, dear," she admonished him. "You don't drink brandy like this-old as the hills. You breathe it in and you sip." She slouched down comfortably in her chair in the little sitting-room, easing off her shoes. She made him refill his glass and bring her a little more. She wanted him to know his way around, it seemed.
At about nine o'clock, she went to get the boy from his playroom and put him to bed. While she was gone, he helped himself to a little more brandy. In fact, quite a bit more. That was a relative matter-quite a bit-it didn't seem like much in the glass, but when the golden fire rolled down his throat like lava, it was indeed a great deal. A great deal too much for a young man who wasn't used to it. He hated the burn of it at first, and the fumes that came up to sting his nostrils, but soon it didn't matter-he wasn't noticing these effects any longer.
When Elizabeth returned, he stood up, unsure on his feet, and mentioned that it was time for him to be getting along home.
Her big, dark eyes opened in amused surprise. "Why Eddie, the evening is just beginning."
In her stocking feet, Elizabeth led him off to her bedroom, holding his hand as he stumbled a little.
"Where are we going?" Eddie asked in a daze. "What do you want?"
With her free hand, Elizabeth slapped her forehead in mock dismay. "What a question!"
He felt very uneasy there in her bedroom again. It was partly his mental unease-not knowing what was going on-and partly the drink.
Eddie stammered, "I-I gotta-you know-go." He indicated her bathroom where he'd taken his leisurely tub several weeks back.
"So go," she shrugged, smiling. "But hurry back."
He went inside and closed the door. After relieving himself, he went to the basin and turned on the water, then went back to flush the toilet; he was still a very young boy, embarrassed by such functions. Then he returned to the sink and splashed cold water on his face several times. He grabbed a big towel and wiped his face vigorously.
There. He felt better. He'd go out there, say goodbye and leave. He didn't know what she was up to, but he was the kind of guy who didn't like puzzles everything should be clear cut, and this was a very peculiar setup indeed.
He opened the door, determined to give a curt good-bye and then out the door.
And there was Elizabeth, with her back to him, in front of her big dressing-table mirror, just dropping the black nightgown over her startlingly nude body.
Eddie didn't leave, of course.
His first reaction was one of utter stupefaction. He stood in the doorway of the bathroom stupidly, just holding on to the knob. A moment before, he thought he had been almost sober. Now everything became clouded in pink again. He wasn't seeing clearly, he wasn't thinking clearly, nothing seemed to have any order or time element. Had he just had dinner and brandy?-or was that two days ago? Had he just been to the bathroom, throwing water in his face?-or was that sometime this morning?
As much as the drink, her body dazzled him. He could only gulp air as he had the brandy. It was as if he had come across some nymph in the forest ... some creature so perfect that she wasn't meant to be viewed by mortal eyes.
But she was real, all right. And she was very mortal.
"Well, there you are," she said, in her bright tones. "Ready?"
He couldn't even answer. He couldn't move from the spot.
He had just a glimpse of her-yet it was engraved on his mind. Just a second or two to take it all in-her back to him, her front reflected in the mirror. Yet he would never forget.
Everything about her body was so symmetrical, so perfect. Her back narrowed in to the tiny waist, and then came to gorgeous globes of her buttocks. And the tantilizing glimpse of her breasts-again just at the point of being over-done; but just at that point ... perfect in their white erectness and their pink circles.
He tried to get control of his faculties. Well, had she given him this quick peek just to show an underprivileged boy what a goddess looked like? He should go now.
But wait! he told himself, as he hadn't moved and still slumped dumbly against the doorframe. Wait. She had used the word "ready". Ready for what?
Elizabeth wasn't going to keep him wondering long. She held out her arm to him as she walked from the dressing table to near the huge bed with its lime-colored spread. "Come along, darling. It isn't polite to keep a lady waiting. Don't you know that?"
His eyes focused on her as she moved. The gown was flowing tightly against her body. It wasn't quite see-through, but he knew what was under there and his mind pictured it all.
Eddie pushed himself away from the bathroom door, going to her awkwardly. "Why me?" he said in a daze.
"I like you," she said with a kittenish fervor that was partly mocking, partly ardent. "Hurry, lover."
But Eddie couldn't hurry. His hands fumbled until she laughingly knocked them aside. She unbuttoned his shirt and unzipped his slacks, pushing them down over his hips. He tried to stop her. "Can you do the rest yourself?" she asked, and turned toward the bed.
Elizabeth pulled back the covers revealing the dazzlingly white sheets. She hopped in, her black nightie showing in sharp contract to the bedclothes. She turned to him.
Eddie was reluctantly pulling off his clothes. He was reluctant not because he didn't want to be in there with her, but because of the process of getting there-stripping down while she watched. And with his present state of alert desire that was pushing out very conspicuously at his shorts.
He'd been naked with girls before, but that seemed different. They were farm girls and they would rut together. But with this perfection of bodily grace waiting for him there in bed, Eddie felt entirely unworthy.
But Elizabeth would make a game of it. "Come on, bashful," she prompted. "Look, I won't look." Very ostentatiously, she covered her eyes with her hands. "I won't peek."
Eddie turned aside from her direct view before he at last wiggled out of his shorts. He hurried toward the bed and she threw out her arms wide, laughing, "I peeked!"
Then Elizabeth put her arms around his neck and drew him down on her. She wiggled her bottom a little so that her nightgown crept up enough to match his nakedness below the waist.
His mind may not have been ready for this, but his body certainly was and he surged at her.
She closed her eyes and groaned as he took possession of her. "Oh, Eddie," she moaned softly, "no need for you to be ashamed to undress in front of anybody in the world! Nothing at all to be ashamed of, honey!"
He reflected later than he did himself proud-that first round. He had brought her up to the point when she could hardly stand it, and then he had laid it on fast and furious and she had damned near gone out of her head.
How she liked it!
It was after the first that he saw himself an inexperienced-newcomer up against a past-master of the game ... and a real, true lover of the sport.
Elizabeth hardly let him pause to get his breath. She wanted more. Then the alcohol was getting in his way for sure. This time he was able to get the same sturdy weapon at the target, but he himself couldn't make it over the top of the roller-coaster and into the screaming downhill thrill of climax.
Ironically, this didn't impede Elizabeth at all. In fact, it was all the better, because his cock was paying her erect attention and she could play off herself, while he gruntingly tried to get relief. In fact, she had two more dazzling displays of pleasure under his piston-like attacks, before he was able to dissolve into a forgetful spasm of climax.
And it was really forgetful-he practically passed out from the brandy and exertion. His chest heaved as he gasped for breath through his open mouth. He kept his eyes closed and his head buried in the soft mound of snow-white pillow.
He must have slept. He awoke with a start-it must have been an hour or so later.
Elizabeth sat in an armchair, reading a book. She had on glasses with dark frames. They didn't distract from her beauty; hardly anything would have. When she heard him stir, she took off the spectacles and looked at him, smiling.
She got up. She had a beautiful wrapper on now. "What a lazy-bones," she chided. "I've taken a bath and read half of a terrible detective story." She poured a cup of coffee from a silver carafe. She came to him as he sat up, his bare torso looking golden in that light, reflected off the lime spread.
Eddie took and then let out a long breath. "That was the end."
Her smile dazzled him-those white teeth, the eyes crinkled up in satisfaction, the lovely disarray of her raven hair. "Oh, no, Eddie," she said softly. "That was just the beginning."