Chapter 6

Teresa woke to the sound of the bells ringing in the Zermatt Catholic Church. Always annoying to the visitor because they were constantly ringing, they were even worse this time for the ringing seemed to go straight through her brain and echo again and again through her aching head. For a moment she didn't know where she was, the plain yellow room did not look familiar, and she could not recall how she had gotten there. She moved the heavy comforter from across her and propped herself up on one elbow, peering at the plain, sparsely furnished room. She noticed the half-empty bottle of cognac on the cigarette-scarred and burned bedside table-where had that come from? and then decided a drink might help her straighten everything out.

She swung her feet around, off the bed, and on to the floor and stood there, teetering for a minute. The glass beside the bottle of cognac looked filthy; but there should be another, a clean one, in the bathroom, she thought. She pattered across the wooden floor, pushed the door open, and caught sight of herself in the mirror. She let out a little gasp of horror.

Her lovely blond hair hung in limp, stringy strands around her shoulders, hunched forward a little now in shame. A pallor had settled over her usually glowing, cream-colored skin; beneath her eyes were deep dark circles that made her look like a reject from a horror movie.

Suddenly it all came back to her. The thought of her lewd, abandoned exploits of the night before, her shameless fingering of her own gratefully accepting pussy, sent little shudders of disgust through her. She felt dirty, that was it. The insides of her thighs were sticky from the juices of excitement that had been released when she had cum, but in addition her entire body seemed to her soiled, caked with filth. Looking at her drawn, pallid face in the mirror, she wondered again what had possessed her, what had driven her to debase herself in such a way. Her self-contempt seemed to etch deep, indelible lines in her face, and she shuddered again, feeling trapped in this cold, impersonal room which was part of some nightmare from which she would never awaken, never escape.

She wanted to wash herself, to scrub away the guilt that clung to her, although she knew she never could. Still, a bath would at leas cleanse her symbolically, and so she drew the water into the chipped enamel tub.

She stepped into the bath and lay back, soaking herself in the luxurious warmth. Her spirits began to revive and she found herself able to think more clearly. Just as she had planned each step so logically the night before-or so it had seemed-getting out of the hotel, finding a place to stay-she now plotted a way back.

There was nothing she could do about seeing Heidi and Buzz fucking-oh, she knew that. She knew, too, that she would never forget it. Still, she could brush it aside, sweep it under the rug, pretend most of the time it had never happened. It would only be in the middle of the night, when she awoke with a sick sense of shame, that the horror would encircle her trembling body again.

But this was daylight, Teresa told herself with forced cheerfulness. And now was the time to get dressed and go out and face the world.

She stepped from her bath, drying herself with the threadbare towel provided by the Hotel Matterhorn Blick, and pulled on clothes quickly, trying to think of what she was going to do now. Zermatt was so isolated from most of her friends that she didn't think she could get help or advice from any of them. They only really had two friends in Zermatt, one was Heidi's father, and seeing him was out of the question-the other was an American writer who lived in Zermatt all year around. He was really more Buzz's friend than hers, but they had always gotten along well. Yes, Lou Kennett was definitely the man. Besides, he was the only one she could see, the only one she knew. She just hoped that he would be able to help.

There was no going back to the Zermatterhof, there was no going back to her husband, not after what she had seen the night before. The marriage was over, finished, kaput. She wept a little at the thought, for herself, even for Buzz. Then she picked up the telephone and gave the concierge-it seemed to be a new one this time, the day shift, no doubt-Lou Kennett's phone number.

The concierge seemed to have trouble getting the call through, but Teresa had made it clear to him she wanted to speak to Lou and no one else. "Yes," she insisted. "It's a personal call. Yes, to Mr. Lou Kennett. I must speak to him. If he is not home, I'll call back."

She wondered vaguely if she was doing the right thing, calling Lou and not some friend down in Geneva. Wouldn't it make for complications, what with Lou being such a good friend to Buzz? She shook her head. No, it. would be all right. And it would make things so much easier for her, not only because Lou was just about the only person she knew up here, but because he was so damned nice. Teresa would be able to talk to him, spill out the whole sordid story to him, since he was a friend, and a sympathetic one at that. Lou would be okay, she decided, and patting herself on the back a little, she added to herself that for once, she, Teresa Cherry, had done the right thing.

She heard the telephone ring in Lou's chalet, then heard a woman answer in French, and then heard the concierge asking for Lou Kennett.

"Who is calling, please?"

There was a pause as the concierge checked the hotel register. "Uh," he cleared his throat. "It's Mrs. Cherry."

"Qui?"

"Mrs. Teresa Cherry!"

There was a pause, and the French woman was talking in the background.

Finally Teresa broke in, not being able to stand the wait any longer. "It's Teresa Cherry," she said. "That's right, Cherry. Mrs. Buzz Cherry. Please, please, let me speak to Mr. Kennett. It's, well, it's a matter of life and death."

The French woman hesitated, obviously trying to make up her mind as to whether or not this was some sort of joke, then with a sigh said, "One moment, please," while Teresa held her breath. But an instant later she said in a heavily accented English "Mr. Kennett will speak with you in a moment."

"Good," Teresa said with a sigh of relief. And after what seemed forever, she heard Lou Kennett's voice and began to cry a little bit and then she said, "Lou, oh Lou! This is Teresa. Teresa Cherry. I'm in terrible trouble, Lou...." she sobbed audibly, now, " ... terrible trouble, and I've got to see you, I've got to see you right away."

"My God, Teresa!" Lou sounded shocked, but he sounded sympathetic too, Teresa thought gratefully. "Have you been in an accident? Is Buzz all right?"

Teresa shook her head. "No, no, it's nothing like that. I've just got to see you, Lou."

"What hotel are you in?"

"I'm staying at the Matterhorn Blick."

"My God! What the hell are you doing in a dump like that?" And when Teresa began to cry again, Lou's voice took on a note of concern. "Teresa, I wish you would tell me what's wrong with you. Is it serious trouble? Has something happened to Buzz?"

"No. No! Of course not, Lou. It's nothing like that."

"What is it, then?"

"Oh, Lou, I can't tell you on the phone. I've got to see you. Please...." her voice trailed off in a little whimper.

"Okay, Teresa," Lou's voice was friendly again, warm, understanding. "Can you come to my chalet this afternoon? I won't leave until I've seen you."

"I'll be there," Teresa promised. And she added, in a small weak voice, "Thank you, Lou. I didn't know who else to turn to."

Jesus! Where had Heidi learned to screw like that!

Buzz thought as he rolled lazily onto his back on the bed and thought about the night before and how he had screwed Heidi Perrin. Boy, she seemed to have had plenty of practice. But somehow, when they'd fucked last night she'd made him feel it was the first time she'd ever been screwed, made him feel she'd never sucked cock before, that no man had ever licked that tight little pink pussy of hers. Well, Buzz thought, other men might have done it before he got around to her, but he'd be damned if he'd let any other man screw her from now on. God, no! He'd keep the kid so busy she wouldn't have time for anyone else. Besides, by the time he got through fucking her silly, she wouldn't even want another man. He looked at his watch. God damn, if it weren't so late, he'd slip her some right now, pull those little nylon panties of hers right off her, slide the big, bulbous head of his prick right between the hot little curl-fringed pussy-lips of her cunt, worm and burrow and snake into that tight little passage until his cock hit the back of it, and then he would fuck in and out while her warm, wet belly juices gushed around his pistoning cock ... oh, Jesus!

He turned over, shook himself and passed his hand over his forehead, pushing his hair back out of his eyes. God damn! It was great to think about it. And even if there wasn't time for it now, there'd be plenty of time tonight. He rolled from the bed and moved lightly across the carpet to the bathroom.

As he soaped himself under the warm spray of the shower, he began to whistle, almost unconsciously, something he hadn't done for years. God! What a gorgeous little ass she had! He could almost see it now, those white, sensuous little half-melon buns that wiggled provocatively. Well, tonight he'd see that luscious ass, that was for sure. And he'd arrange things better, too. None of this going out for dinner, like he had last night, wasting all that time when the two of them could have been doing a hell of a lot better things, right here in the hotel. He might even screw her up on the cliff again like he had yesterday. And it wouldn't be long before he'd have the little alpine guide on the coral-colored couch in the living room, have her stripped of whatever sexy little outfit she was wearing! God, what was she wearing. Well, he would soon find out.

He dried himself, rubbing the fluffy pink towel briskly across his strong, muscular shoulders, his chest, his trim, flat belly-not for nothing did he exercise every day-his flanks, his sinewy thighs. Now he spread his legs, and stooped over slightly, began to massage his pubic area, patting the dangling little circles of his balls, his huge limp cock. Jesus, he thought, that beautiful blonde had taken the whole thing into her mouth last night, right up to the hilt. He patted his cock again, until the beginnings of an erection began to show. Hey, not now, he warned himself, thinking of Heidi the climbing lesson he had today. Wait until tonight!

He hurried back into the bedroom, glanced at his watch again-it was later than he'd thought-and pulled on his climbing clothes. He was still buttoning his shirt as he left the bedroom.

Heidi must have ordered a big breakfast because the smell of bacon, fresh coffee, was filling the room, making his mouth water. Boy, was he ever hungry after last night's activities. He could hardly wait to get out on the mountain and start climbing.

Just before the door into the living room suite, he stumbled over something lying on the floor. He leaned down to pick it up and found a purse lying there. Heidi must have left it there last night in their rush to get to the bedroom. He smiled and carried the bag into the living room.

"Morning," he said cheerfully.

"Good morning, Buzz!" Heidi grinned at him impishly. "Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine," Buzz said. "Except that you left your purse on the floor last night, and I nearly fell and broke my neck on it I hope I didn't break anything inside." He grabbed the girl, pulling her close, and she ground her hot little cunt up against his prick. He whirled her around and gave her a playful pat-a mock spank-on her jiggling little ass-cheeks. Heidi squealed and clutched her ass-cheeks protectively. "Better not do it again," Buzz warned, "or you'll get one that's for real."

"I won't do it again," Heidi promised. "Anyway," she said with a pout "I don't carry a purse, too much trouble."

"You what?"

"I don't carry a purse around," she looked at Buzz. Her eyes were serious; the game was over. "That isn't my purse," she said. "You ought to know that. Besides, I would never carry one that big. Even if I did carry one."

"Then whose...." Buzz began. He stopped short, a sick feeling creeping over him, settling somewhere around his stomach, as the memory of an argument he'd had a short time ago with Teresa came back to him, smashing into his consciousness with the full force of a hurricane.

"Teresa," he had said, looking up from a pile of cancelled checks he'd been paying, "what the hell did you buy at Dior's?"

"Oh, that! I" Teresa had said.

"Oh, for God's sake!" He had begun to lose his temper. "I know you have to buy clothes, but at Dior's? Three hundred Swiss francs?"

"Well...." Teresa began, looking innocent.

"Teresa! What did you buy that cost that much money?"

"I'll show you," Teresa said contritely. "Of course, I wouldn't have bought it if I hadn't absolutely needed it."

Buzz had groaned, half in anguish, half in disbelief as she had disappeared into the other room for a moment and come back in carrying her new purse.

"See how lovely it is," Teresa had said. "I needed a new one so badly and this was just perfect."

"My God! Couldn't you have found one at a cheaper store? The Grand Passage for instance?"

"I looked there," Teresa had said. "And I couldn't find a thing. This was the only one that would do."

So, Teresa had a purse like this. And now Buzz was standing here in his hotel suite, facing the little alpine guide he'd fucked silly the night before, holding his wife's three hundred franc purse in his hands. The purse he'd found in the hall outside of the bedroom. Which meant that Teresa had been in the suite last night; Teresa had been outside the bedroom and she had undoubtedly seen him with his face pressed up between the young Swiss girl's open thighs, his tongue lapping hotly at her little pink pussy. Jesus!

He sat down heavily, knowing, even without Heidi's frightened look, that his face had gone dead white. She poured a cup of coffee for him, urged him to drink it. "You'll feel better," she said ... but he pushed it from him, afraid to take it in his trembling hands. "Is ... is something wrong?" she asked at last.

Buzz shook his head. Everything was wrong, he thought, but it sure wouldn't help to tell Heidi about it.

She still stared at him. "Are you sick, Buzz?"

"Yes," he said. "I'm sick." He pulled himself to his feet, moved heavily across the living room toward the door. "I have to think. I'll be back later," he said. "We'll have to skip our climbing lesson today. I have to figure out what to do."

"When will you be back, Buzz?"

"I don't know," he said. And when Heidi looked as if she might cry, he added, "I really don't know. But it will probably be late. You had better get yourself down to your room after breakfast."

"What about the Matterhorn?"

"Well just have to delay it a day or so. There's something I have to straighten out first."

"Will you call me soon, Buzz?" Heidi's eyes were wide now, serious and a little frightened.

"Yes," he said. "I'll call you soon and let you know when to start my lessons again. Right now I have more important things to do," and with that he left the little alpine guide to her own thoughts, and he headed for town.

First of all, he decided, as he walked through! the crowded streets, he had to figure out who she would have gone to for help. Heidi's father would be impossible-Teresa could hardly tell him the whole story-and that only left one person, his friend Lou Kennett, the writer. It seemed an un-likely choice if she had known someone else up here, but she didn't, so it had to be him. As soon as he decided that, he stopped walking and ducked into a restaurant to use the phone to call Lou Kennett.

When the phone was answered at last, he wondered, in panic, what he was going to say to him. Well, he had to say something, he knew that, and he had to see him too. Because he knew that sooner or later Teresa would call him for advice or help. And because Lou Kennett was the only person who might-just might-be able to help him get in touch with Teresa.

"Hello, Lou," he said at last, when he had finally answered the phone. "Hello, Lou, this is....

Lou cut him off with a chuckle. "I know. Buzz Cherry."

God! That meant that Teresa had already been in touch with him, but he would play it safe just in case.

"Yeah, look, Lou," Buzz hurried on, hardly hearing. "I've got to see you. Soon. It's serious. Damned serious."

"I know it is," Lou said, sardonically.

"Well, then, can I come over to your place?"

"God, no, Buzz. Not this afternoon. I've got a deadline to meet by tonight. I have to get an article out in the mail by this evening."

Buzz's voice rose impatiently. "Well, this evening, then. I've got to see you, Lou. I've just got to."

That's for sure, Lou thought. He struggled to keep his own voice level, struggled to sound thoughtful. "I know, Buzz," he soothed him. "And I'm sorry. But this afternoon is out."

"Well, this evening, then. I'll come on over to your chalet. Or I could meet you some place, if you'd like."

I wouldn't like that at all, Lou thought. Aloud he said, "Afraid that's out too, Buzz. I have something I have to do."

"Well, when, then?" Buzz shouted angrily. "Cool it, Buzz. Cool it. Things can't be as bad as all that.' "No?"

"No. So why don't you come to my place the first thing in the morning?" He heard Buzz's mumbled assent, and put the telephone down. He really did have big plans for the rest of the day, he thought to himself. He sure as hell did. He was going to help Buzz's pretty little wife out of some problem and now he had an idea what the problem was.