Chapter 5
It was a Thursday when Darcy, leaving school late because of her membership in several clubs which had met far into the evening, left school alone, walked to the corner, then paused and turned around when she heard her name called.
There was nothing that she could see but the dusk of evening settling over the school grounds, the school, and the several parked cars which lined the curb in front of the school.
Then her name was called again. She established that it came from the first parked car. She looked at it and waited. Then a head appeared out of the window and smiled a new salutation. It was Kenneth Masters, Sanford High's new assistant principal.
"Well, come over here, my dear," Masters half laughed. "I've been waiting for you-or rather, I hoped I'd bump into you, and it turned out exactly that way."
Darcy shifted her books to her other arm and approached the car window.
"Well, hello, Mr. Masters," she said, stopping next to his smiling face.
His eyes quickly touched at all of her body; then he said, "My, but you're a difficult young lady to encounter."
"I am?"
"But, of course. After all, I did ask you to see me some time soon. But alas, to no avail, you're much too busy for your old assistant principal."
"It's hardly that," Darcy laughed. "I just haven't thought of it, that's all."
"But you're free now, aren't you?"
"Well, more or less," she said. "I'm on my way home-I have to eat; then there's home work." She paused, then laughed and added, "That is, I'll eat after I raid the refrigerator-Mom and Dad are out for the evening again and dinner's bound to be cold."
"Poor, neglected child," he said sympathetically and in such a way that Darcy could not determine whether it was real or contrived.
"I'm not that," she said.
"I'll tell you what, Darcy," Masters said, then hesitated. "I simply have to talk to you, and right away. Come, be my dinner guest at my place, and we can talk at the same time. You can telephone your parents from my home."
"They're not home-remember, I said they went out tonight."
"Oh, but of course. How stupid of me. But that's all the more reason for you to be my guest."
"Well-. "
Masters' head ducked out of sight as he leaned across the car seat and pushed open the other door. "Come on-I won't take no for an answer."
"Well, I guess it's all right," she said. "And, frankly, I am hungry."
She moved around the front of the car toward the other side. When she was exactly in the middle of the car, Masters turned on the car lights, framing her body in a spotlight of glowing yellow, Darcy turned and smiled against the brightness. Without seeing Masters, she knew that he looked at her body, especially at the short skirt, which revealed her bare legs, and at her blouse, which was lower than most she owned. Strangely, Darcy felt tickled by the lights of the car. They seemed to fill her with passion. As she moved around the car and out of the light, she thought about it, considering that for several days now her passion had been building-mounting steadily to the next night, that erotic Friday that would initiate her into membership of the Devil Cats, that night that would cast her for the first time in direct proximity to Zipper Hardy.
Darcy pulled the door shut behind her and settled in the car seat.
Happily, Masters looked at her and rubbed his hands together like a miser contemplating a gold pile. "Oh, my, this is delightful, and I just know you'll simply love Bruno and Myra."
"Bruno and Myra?" Darcy asked, turning toward him.
"Yes. Bruno and Myra are my best friends-the very best. Actually, they live with me quite a bit of the time."
"Oh, like roommates, eh?"
He laughed heartily for a moment, then said, "Well, in a way, yes, the three of us are together a lot, and you'll all love each other, I just know it."
"Well, I didn't expect a party tonight, but I'm game for it," Darcy said. "So, we're off."
"Yes, off-indeed, we are," Kenneth Masters said.
The car zoomed into life, then was jerked away from the curb as if it were motivated by a crazy high school senior, not that institution's assistant principal.
From time to time as they moved through the streets of Sanford, Darcy glanced at Masters. Although she was a youth, attracted to other youths, she had to admit that the assistant principal was very handsome. He was fiftyish, but tall and not at all fat around the stomach like so many of her teachers. Darcy decided that he was distinguished appearing, that that word best described him. And his eyes had a mystery to them that she found very interesting. It was as if they hid true understanding of him, and hid it by means of friendliness and compassion for all whom he encountered. Yes, he was nice, very nice, Darcy decided, and even though her approaching initiation with the Devil Cats had consumed most of her thoughts the past few days, she felt a sudden delight at being in the presence of such a distinguished man as Kenneth Masters. Besides, she needed some relaxation. Lately, she had been much too intent upon the Devil Cats and Zipper Hardy, so intense about them that she had not truly enjoyed herself for a long time. The memory of Zipper Hardy looking at her with accusing eyes when he found her with Ham, then walking away, was painful and had been often recalled to her mind. She wanted it blotted from her mind until she had the opportunity to meet Zipper on his own terms and make her own amends. Kenneth Masters might help her forget, she reasoned.
"Where in the world do you live anyway?" Darcy asked as Masters turned north onto a road that led out of town.
"I have a place in the country," he said. "It's not far from here. I love the country, especially the privacy of it. It's worth almost any inconvenience to live in the country."
"Yes, it is nice out here," Darcy said, looking out the car window, seeing only the shadowy outlines of farm houses and great patches of fields.
"Do you go into the country much?" Masters asked.
"Not as much as when I was kid," Darcy replied. "Then I used to ride my bike into the country as often as I could. But now, well, I don't get as much chance as I once did."
"But surely your boy friends must drive you out on these roads sometimes," he said suggestively. "Heavens-things have changed an awful lot if boys still don't bring pretty girls like you into the country to park for a spell."
Darcy looked at him, then turned and looked out the window again without commenting.
"Ah, ha," Masters declared joyfully. "You're silent, and in this case silence is an admission. See, you do park on these country roads for a little bit of necking."
Darcy breathed deeply and shifted her position so that she could face Masters directly. For a moment, it was hard for her to remember that he was a school administrator, charged with the healthy emotional growth of teenagers. And it was because of this, Darcy decided, that she had to be very careful about any kind of admissions in the presence of Kenneth Masters. A mistrust of school authorities, nurtured through years of school attendance, still prevailed.
"Well, what do you say to that?" Masters asked.
"It's this way, Mr. Masters," Darcy started. "First, it's not called 'necking' any more-it's called 'making-out' today."
"Oh, my, how great," Masters said, chuckling.
"And in the second place," Darcy continued, "kids don't need country roads for their 'making-out.' Some of them even have apartments of their own, and if they don't, well, there's always the beach or motels or any number of places where kids have a heck of a lot more room than in the front seat of a car."
Masters chuckled until he choked. Then he coughed. Then he chuckled again, on a lower, calmer key, until at last he was silent again.
Darcy could not keep from smiling. She was rather proud of the way she had handled the assistant principal's leading questions. It put him in his place.
"Well, well, well," Masters said after a quiet few moments. "You certainly are a little sharpie; you certainly are."
Darcy did not speak again until Masters turned the car into a circular drive that rounded itself in front of an old, very large, three-story farm house.
"My, I didn't know there was such a large place around here," she said. Then: "Do all those barns belong to you, too?"
"Oh, yes," he replied. "And the animals. I love animals. I have many of them."
"Livestock?"
"Not exactly. I'm a. bit more given toward domesticated beasts."
"That's nice. I like dogs and cats, too," Darcy said.
Masters braked the car at the front entrance of the house. They alighted, then, together, walked up the front steps. Masters tried the door, saw that it was locked, then fished a key from his pocket, inserted it in the lock, turned it, and pushed open the heavy, oaken door. Then he stood aside and bid Darcy enter.
She did with a quick, confident step.
"This is the foyer," Masters said, closing the door behind them, then switching on an overhead light.
"It's lovely," Darcy said, looking around.
Indeed it was-and lavish, too. The two love-seats, numerous chairs, tables, lamps, and desk were antique by nature but had been highly polished so that they gleamed their luxuriousness to all who entered the room. The carpeting was expensive, too, very thick and capable of submerging part of Darcy's feet.
"Yes, this is the entrance to my humble dwelling," Masters said, extending both arms to take in all of the foyer.
"Humble, huh," Darcy grumped.
"Any thing or place that one loves is humble," Masters explained. "But come, let's go into the living room."
They did. It, too, was luxurious in furniture, carpeting, draperies, everything that filled the room. Masters motioned Darcy to a seat as he continued across the room in the direction of a bar that was set in one corner. When he reached it, he moved behind it, then leaned on its top and looked at Darcy.
She felt moved to excite him. She crossed her legs, making sure that the skirt lifted well above her thighs, so high, in fact, that the cross of them, one atop the other, created a line of flesh that disappeared high within her skirt, leaving the wonder of a viewer the delightful mystery of where it ended.
Masters stared at her, then cleared his throat.
Darcy leaned forward, placing her books on the floor beside her, at the same time offering a glorious view of her breasts and the crevice that sliced them into beautiful and identical moons. She dallied with the books, at the same time watching Masters and his reaction to the low-slung breast look she offered. His reaction was sufficient to cause her to smile and feel a certain devilish delight in the knowledge that assistant principals were really no different from other men.
"And now, Darcy," Masters said. "Shall we have a cocktail?"
"A cocktail? Why, Mr. Masters!"
He smiled. "Now, don't you go confusing me with the schoolmaster type of principal. I'm hardly that. And I do believe that proper, social drinking is a matter of education, too, that a young person might just as well learn at the beginning how to drink properly, rather than to become confused about it and misuse the purposes of alcohol. So-will you have a drink?"
"Of course," she answered brightly.
"And what is your preference?"
"Anything you care to give me, Mr. Masters, anything at all."
"Ah, fine," he said.
He busied himself with bottles for a few minutes, then, with tray, glasses and a shaker, approached Darcy. He placed the tray on a cocktail table before the couch where Darcy sat, then he seated himself next to her, poured drinks in two glasses from the shaker, replaced it, handed Darcy one glass and took the other himself.
"To your youth," he said, raising his glass and nicking it in her direction. "May it be eternal."
"Yeahhh," she said, drawing the word out in a way that joked at his toast.
Soon, both Darcy and Masters had drained their glasses and replaced them on the tray. Then Masters leaned forward, gripped Darcy's forearm, gave it an affectionate little shake and said, "Now-at last-let's talk, Darcy."
"That's right," she said. "You wanted to talk to me, didn't you." She said it a little faster than she had intended and she knew that the drink had caused it.
"I do, indeed," he answered. He clasped his hands and propped them on his knees.
"Hey, by the way, where's this Bruno and Myra?" Darcy asked suddenly. "You said they'd be here-that you wanted me to meet them."
"They're probably in the back some place," he said. "They'll show up in due time. And believe me, Darcy, I certainly do want you to meet them."
"Oh. Good."
"Now, about the things I wanted to discuss with you, Darcy. As you probably know, an assistant principal at a high school is charged with many responsibilities. Too many, sometimes. But that's our lot and we do the best we can. However, there's a situation that's developed in this town that can get to be quite unpleasant. I'm making it my business to nip things in the bud, so to speak."
"Really?" Darcy asked. She didn't know what Mr. Masters was leading up to, but she did feel that a little encouragement at this point would not hurt a bit. And besides, the drink, which had now settled in her stomach, had begun to glow like a hot coal, igniting her body and making her feel wicked and sensual.
"Yes, unfortunately," Masters said seriously.
"Well, come on, tell me about it. It sounds exciting."
"It is. And, frankly, my own conclusion for this little problem is going to be even more exciting."
"Gosh." Darcy leaned forward, then straightened and sat back in the corner of the couch as she brought her legs up to rest beneath her buttocks. It was a delightful pose she made, one that offered Masters the fullest extent of her seductive body; the breasts practically oozing from her blouse now, the skirt still high above her knees, and with it the tight lines of her hips, buttocks, waist, shoulders-all this that was so lovely, and topped with the auburn hair bouncing at her shoulders, the greenish eyes and red, red mouth.
Masters finished with a new, full view of her as she adjusted to her new position, then said, "You know Rod Baker, I'm sure."
"Yes, I know Rod," she answered.
"And do you also know about the new motor bike and Honda Club Rod has organized?"
"I know about that, too," she said. She hesitated, then, undoubtedly spurred by alcohol, could not resist adding, "As a matter-of-fact I know just about anything you'd care to hear about Rod Baker. I used to date him rather regularly."
"Oh. You mean you don't date him now?"
"I have other things and other people that are going to keep me too busy for Rod boy, I'm afraid."
"Oh," Masters said again. "Well, to go on, Rod has a fair-sized club going now, but he's run into a lot of problems. It seems there's an outlaw motorcycle club which has taken quarters in a beach house by the lake. They're called the Devil Cats, if you can imagine such an outlandish name."
"I can imagine it," Darcy said, sparking to real interest for the first time now that the Devil Cats had been mentioned.
"Well, good. Anyway-but wait here, my dear, let me pour us another drink."
He did, full to the tops of their glasses. They each sipped off a third of the drink before replacing their glasses on the table.
Then Masters started again, saying, "It appears that these rough Devil Cats characters are causing poor Rod all kinds of problems. They're stealing parts off motor scooters; they're harassing the boys when they're in town or out on dates-actually stealing their girl friends some times-causing all kinds of problems."
"What a shame," Darcy offered, wanting to smile but subduing it.
"Yes. But these Devil Cats are about to get their due."
"You're going to sick the police on them, eh?" Darcy asked, all interest, so much interest evident that she was moved to lean far in Masters' direction so that her blouse peeked brazenly open to reveal the hard, red-brown tips of both nipples.
Masters ogled the breasts, the nipples, the open split of blouse, then looked deeply, and longingly, into Darcy's eyes.
She narrowed her eyes, giving him a sensual look. Then, when she had him limp and within her power, she said, "Yes, Mr. Masters, go on; what's going to happen to the Devil Cats?"
It was several moments before he answered. When he did, his voice was strained.
"No, I am not going to instigate a police investigation. I know that in the end results, it'd do no good."
"My goodness," she exclaimed, feigning astonishment. "What in the world are you going to do then?"
"We're going to rumble 'em," he said, slurring the words like a tough guy.
Darcy nearly laughed again. But she did not. Instead she said, "A rumble! You must be joking. Good heavens, you're an assistant principal of a high school, I can't believe that you'd-"
"Wait, wait, wait," he interrupted. "You must remember that I'm an extremely liberal school administrator-so liberal that I know that young fire must be fought with stronger, healthier fire."
"My God!"
"Your surprise doesn't dismay me one bit," he said. "I even surprise myself a little sometimes. Yes, I'm going to see to it that the Devil Cats are defeated on their own home ground-a rumble with Rod Baker's Honda Set Club."
"My God, they'll be killed!" Darcy exclaimed with true, vibrant concern.
"No, I rather suspect that these Cats will leave town before they're exterminated."
"That's not exactly the way I meant it," Darcy said, feeling frustrated.
"Well, nevertheless, that's the plan. What do you think of it?"
"I think it's strange as the dickens that a teacher would be behind such a thing," she said, the words crisp. "My gosh-I can hardly believe it."
"Tut, tut," he tutted. "I'm not the orthodox teacher, you know."
"You certainly aren't" she said, a tinge of admiration circling her words. "Man-wait until the kids hear about this!"
"Oh, oh-I don't want them to know, not any except those who will be directly involved, like Rod Baker and his boys." He paused a moment, then said, "Yes Darcy, I'm a man of direct and dynamic action and I've made up my mind that this is the best way to get rid of the Devil Cats and make the city safe for a nice, pleasant Honda Club."
"But why did you want to tell me about this?" she inquired.
"Very simple. You're the school leader-I want you to lend your enthusiastic support to the boys. You know, be a regular little cheerleader for them. Tell them how proud you are of them-that you know they'll be victorious. Heavens, be the Princess sending the Knights off to battle with your blessings."
"With my blessings," she said softly.
"Of course."
"Well-"
"Good, I knew you'd give us your support."
He beamed upon her, then stretched one arm behind her back and hugged her to him in a movement of good fellowship, one of fatherliness, one remindful of the joy of Princesses sending Knights off to battle.
Darcy allowed the casual embrace. She even enhanced it a bit by cuddling her cheek into Kenneth Master's shoulder and thrusting her body forward enough for her large breasts to make their hot mark against his body. And she did not pull back when his hand slipped a trifle and clutched at her back, winding its way around her to rest just below the lower bulge of one breast. She did not recoil, did not break away, not until she sensed that she was being observed. Then she looked up, saw the two smiling people at the entrance of the room and abruptly disengaged herself from Kenneth Masters' arms.
"Ah, Bruno-Myra-I'm glad you're here," exclaimed Masters, lifting his arm so that Darcy could slide away from him.
Darcy brought both feet to the floor and patted her skirt into place. Then she gave her attention to Bruno and Myra.
At first glance, they looked like dancing partners to Darcy. Both the man and the woman were dressed in black leotards, ballet slippers, and black jersey tee-shirts. They were astounding to behold, almost beyond description, for there was an attitude about them that reminded Darcy of something medieval, like characters from a history book who had suddenly bounded from the pages, replete in the dress and thoughts and customs of the times. Even the way they stood within the framework of the room's entrance seemed odd to Darcy. They smiled, but did not speak. They stood close together, as if they were awaiting another. And their eyes sparked toward Masters in a way that told that he was much more than a host, more even than a favorite friend. Bruno was tall and extremely well-built, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His thighs showed the muscles of a dancer or athlete. He was very dark of hair, complexion, and bearing. He had shaggy eyebrows, which intensified the darkness of his deep, brown eyes. But, even with the sense of strength about him, his hands were delicate looking, finely tapered and long.
Darcy saw that Bruno's gaze had switched from Masters to herself. She shifted her own view to the girl, Myra.
She looked about twenty-five and the contrast of her fairness next to the dark Bruno was almost terrifying. She had blonde hair that reached below her waist, and Darcy guessed that Myra could sit on it if she wanted. Her body was exquisite. Her dark costume revealed the curves and lines of an exceptional build, one of breasts, neither large-or small, but firm and jutting, of buttocks that jutted, too, and rippled with the slightest movement. Her legs, like Bruno's, were muscled, but because they were long and lean, any roughness that muscles usually conveyed was missing. Myra's mouth was fascinating, too, Darcy decided. Her mouth was wicked, her nose small, her eyes-blue, as nearly as Darcy could tell-slanted in a hint of some Far Eastern race that had to be a lie because of her wondrous fairness.
"Well, come-enter-join us," Masters called to the doorway. "Darcy and I have been waiting for you to join us."
In perfect unity, they stepped forward, crossed the room, then stopped before Masters and Darcy. Masters rose and made the introductions. Darcy nodded to each, then smiled at Masters.
"We've finished the drinks," Masters said. "But I'll make a new batch in just a jiffy."
Darcy looked at him and thought about food. Then she realized that she was no longer hungry, that the drinks had apparently served to quiet her appetite.
Bruno and Myra sat down on the floor in front of Darcy as Masters hurried across the room to make a new round of drinks. Both the man and the woman looked at Darcy, smiling, but neither of them spoke. Neither did Darcy, not until Masters had returned with a new tray of drinks and had retaken his seat next to her.
Then she said. "You two must be dancers."
Myra giggled and Bruno laughed. His voice was high-pitched, but still masculine. Masters laughed, too, then said, "Bruno and Myra, my dear, you will learn, are almost anything and everything in the world that people could possibly be."
"Well, that's nice and confusing," Darcy said. She lifted her glass, sipped from it, decided that the drink tasted a bit different, then raised it high and drank nearly a third of it down in three lady-like swallows.
The others took from their glasses, too.
Now a bit embarrassed for the silence, Darcy smiled and took some more of her drink. She felt a bolt of heat strike her belly. It made her remember the smoking she had indulged in with Ham. She wondered if there were any relationship between Ham's tobacco and Kenneth Masters' drink. Then she didn't care. She finished her drink.
"I think some music would go well about now, don't you?" Myra said to Darcy.
"Oh, yes, I love music," she answered.
Myra pushed up from the floor and moved to where a record player rested against a far wall. After afixing records to the spindle, she turned to join the others. Before she had reseated herself, strange, exotic music filled the room.
New drinks were poured from the shaker by Masters, then the glasses were filled again and still once more. Then a new shaker was filled to capacity, and those drinks, too, were shared by the foursome.
Everything seemed very light and gay to Darcy. Bruno was delightful, Myra was, too, and so was Kenneth Masters-everyone, everything, was just too delightful for words. Darcy giggled a lot at the casual conversation. She knew the drinks encouraged this, but she did not care. She was much too contented, comfortable, and carefree to care about anything but happiness. And with this feeling there came, too, the awareness of Kenneth Masters' closeness, his hand that strayed from time to time to pat at Darcy's arm, her thigh, her shoulder and the wisps of hair that teased at her ears. Even the occasional bump of his body against her breast became commonplace. She even began to like it and started trading touches: the quick grasp of her hand upon his thigh or knee, the exacting turn that wedged her breast to his forearm, all the little tricks and instrumentalities of love-play that were made to seem careless and casual.
Finally, Masters, in a tone that had suddenly turned drunken, said, "Now, about the entertainment, Bruno-did you plan anything special for us this evening?"
"Not really," Bruno said. "But Myra and I were thinking of showing you the new dance we developed. We haven't had an audience yet." He stopped and laughed, then said, "And I doubt this dance ever will have anything but a personal audience."
"Well, fine," said Masters. "I'm anxious to see it."
Darcy sparked to interest too. A dance seemed quite the most unique type of entertainment when there would only be an audience of two.
"Myra-are you ready?" Bruno asked.
"Yes."
The couple moved to the opposite end of the room. Darcy turned her attention to Masters. But when she saw that he stared across the room at Bruno and Myra, Darcy turned too. Then she felt a stab of shock. Both Bruno and Myra had removed their garments. They stood together, naked, and both were busy with something that was out of line with Darcy's vision. When they turned, she saw that both the man and woman held their own long black whip. Darcy felt startled, as if something insane was happening, as if she had become a part of insanity. Next to her, she felt a quiver that told of Masters' excitement at the sight of the naked people with the whips. Darcy knew that Masters was odd, and she had sensed a strangeness in Bruno and Myra, but she had never expected anything like this. Whips! Brutality! Whatever it was they wished to do with them.
Bruno and Myra walked to where Darcy sat with Masters. The woman's breasts jiggled as she moved. Bruno was magnificently built, but Darcy would not let herself look directly at him when he was so close.
"This dance is unique, we think," Bruno said to Darcy and Masters. "It demonstrates some principles of the dance that were once known by certain tribes alone. Through research, we have learned of them. And from them we have learned a great deal about ourselves, our emotions and sensations and the pleasure that a singing whip can give."
As if he had just finished a curtain-call speech-finished it before the performance-Bruno gave them a little bow, then stepped back several paces.
Myra walked to the center of the room and took a position that was as straight as that of a soldier. Bruno took a position across from her.
Upon a signal from Bruno, which was nothing more than the lifting of one eyebrow, both of them raised the whips and slung them madly around their heads, the ends of the whips coming within inches of each other's face. And then they halted the whips. And then they leaped, came close, parted, shimmered their naked bodies in twirling dance steps around the room, doing all of the steps that Darcy recognized as ballet steps, doing them well, too, yet in a manner that suggested the steps, the dance-everything-was merely an excuse to unleash the whips against each other.
Soon, Bruno and Myra ceased their hysterical dance steps. They paused, then moved to the positions they had held at the beginning. Now, Myra drew her whip way back. Its end slapped against the carpeting. Then she snapped it forward. There was a loud, searing sound as the whip struck Bruno at his right hip, tearing the flesh, making blood ooze and bubble, then dribble down his waist and thigh. His face took on an expression of the most delightful thrill. Myra snapped the whip again. This time the end struck him low on the thigh, at such a place that . it made Darcy jerk with shock for the pain that Bruno must have felt. But when she looked at his face, the expression had grown even more intense, more delighted with the stimulation he was receiving. The next time the whip struck him, it was at the other thigh, puddling blood in the middle, making him look like a man who had met the butcher's cleaver. Bruno now breathed very hard. So did Myra. Her body bubbled with perspiration. And her arm became a piston that snapped and resnapped in rapid movements the whip against the naked body of Bruno.
Suddenly, Myra paused. Darcy, shivering now from fear and from something that churned within her own body, was glad they had stopped. But they had not. Now, it was Bruno's turn.
In a hard, lashing forward motion, Bruno crashed the whip across both of Myra's breasts. Instantly, they bled and the ends bent in submission. Then he struck her there again. And again and again and again. Then, even as she received the lash of the whip, Myra made ready to return it, and did with a hard, stinging snap.
Darcy jerked with every stroke as if she were receiving the whip's anger herself. Now, there was no pretense of a dance between Bruno and Myra. Now, they only lashed at each other, striking and bringing forth yelps of pleasure-pain from both their throats. Darcy stared unbelievingly at the bloody sight in front of her. She couldn't believe that it was happening, that she was a witness to it. Nor could she believe that she was really the guest of a high school executive. It seemed impossible-incredible-preposterous! It seemed as if the world had suddenly split open in an obscene gap. And Darcy stood in its middle. She felt panic swamp her. It was different from any she had ever known. It berated at the same time that it teased. It was awful, yet beautiful. She wanted to flee the scene and the room, yet she felt inclined to linger, linger even lazily close to Kenneth Masters.
Suddenly, the singing whips stopped. Bruno and Myra, panting, heaving terribly, dropped their whips on the carpeting. Then they dashed for each other's arms. They embraced, mixing the blood of their bodies together by the hard contact that they made. And then they rolled to the floor. And Myra braced herself in a position of sexual readiness as Bruno hurried to meet her.
Darcy gulped, then turned away when the two bloody creatures came together. Then she leaped from the couch and ran across the room, past Bruno and Myra and into the foyer.
Darcy was turning the knob of the door when Masters reached her.
"My dear, my dear, what's wrong?" he said, pulling her from the door.
"I don't know," she said. "But I have to get out of here fast."
"Now, child, don't be upset. I was led to believe that you were a true liberal-really..."
"I'm not. I want to go home," she cried.
"But I had plans for you-for me-. "
"Forget them. I have to go."
Kenneth Masters looked at her for what seemed a long time. Then, with a sigh of resignation, he opened the door and followed Darcy into the night.
Once in the car, Darcy crouched in the corner. She was afraid, not of Masters or Bruno or Myra
-just terribly afraid of her own feelings-feelings that she did not understand-feelings that she was desperately afraid would be tapped and tormented the next night when she stood before the Devil Cats to meet their initiation.