Chapter 9

The sun had already dipped beneath the earth by the time Janie Kent finished compiling her report on the sex life of certain subjects of the city of Port Harris. She was surprised that she had learned so much about the people. And the data she had secured seemed quite enough to help her make her mark in sociological circles. This was a bonus-she had merely wanted to complete the requirements of her uncle's will. But the array of material she had obtained tempted her to greater work. But, she didn't know. Not yet.

Janie fastened the last of many sheets together, locked them securely in a folder, then laid the package on the top of her desk. She looked at it and sighed. Then she looked at the telephone and thought of David Chalmers. She wondered what he would think of her work, wondered if he would question the thoroughness of her information and inquire how it was possible for her to learn so much without actual experience with the subjects. She hoped he wouldn't ask that. But, if he did, she would tell him. Then she wondered why she thought so continually of the young and idealistic lawyer. She recognized that it was very-likely that she was in love with him. She recognized it, then dismissed it from her mind, being disinclined to consider such a thing at that time.

Again, Janie looked at the telephone and considered calling David, telling him that the survey was completed, that her work was done. But she did not. Instead, she tiredly pushed up from the desk and walked around the room. She moved around the room as if she were uncertain of her surroundings, uncertain, even, of her next move. To quiet the tired restlessness that she felt, she moved to the couch. She sat down. Then she lounged lengthwise on the couch.

She had been disturbed all through the day. Everything bothered her. She could not adjust her mind to plans for the future. She could do nothing but work on her report, and, now that it was done, lie on the couch and think.

Some of her thoughts were horrible. She remembered Jack Prescott and noted what he had become, how he had become a near-madman when at last he had taken her. Then she remembered the stranger in the broken-down house. He had taken her hard, too, masterfully, she supposed it could be called, but still, with him, with Jack, with all of them, there had been nothing in the act for herself. She thought of herself as a freak for a few moments, then sent that thought scampering as she realized how preposterous it was. Sexual inadequacy was certainly nothing new among women, she told herself. Still, it didn't help. She wished that she were different. Then she wondered if she ever would be different, if she would learn how to respond to love and lover.

Janie pushed up from the couch. She walked over to the desk and again looked down at the folder that contained her report. She thought how odd it was that she had learned so much and still knew so little about herself and her own responses. It seemed a shame. A terrible shame.

Suddenly, Janie felt horribly tired. So tired that she could hardly stand. She recognized the feelings as one of let-down after the activity of her work. Now there was nothing. And she was tired. So tired.

Janie walked to the window and looked out at the large expanse of land at the front of the house. She saw only a wide, dark square, for it had grown dark. The day had passed quickly; she hoped the night would move as fast. Once more, Janie looked at the phone. And once more she rejected the idea of calling David Chalmers. She turned and walked to the rear of the house.

In the small study at the rear of the house, Janie did not turn on a light. She stood in darkness looking out the rear window, thinking of nothing in particular, just staring, feeling her tiredness, the indecision about her future, feeling all these things and wishing that she did not.

Janie was still standing by the window when the door chimes sounded. She did not move at first. They sounded again. She turned. Again the chimes sounded their three-toned signal. Now, Janie moved toward the front of the house and to the door in the foyer.

Dave Chalmers grinned as she opened the door.

"Dave," Janie cried, "I didn't know it was you."

"Naturally not," he said. "How could you?"

"That's right," she laughed. "Come on in."

"I'll do that, young lady," he answered.

When the door was closed behind Dave Chalmers, Janie became aware of her dress. Embarrassedly aware of it, for she wore only a short negligee and slippers. Earlier, when she was midway through the compilation of her report, she had gone upstairs and changed. She had forgotten about it. Now she was embarrassed.

"Is this as far as I get? The foyer?" Dave asked.

"Of course not," she answered. "Here, let me take your briefcase."

"I can manage it," he said. "I'm not quite that old."

"Of course not."

"You said that," Dave reminded her. "Yes, I did. Come on, sit down." They walked into the living room together and sat down.

"A drink?" Janie asked. "No thanks," he told her.

"Dave, I have something to tell you," she said, a note of excitement in her tone now that he was with her.

"Let me guess," he said. "You've finished the report."

"Right."

"Good."

"I'm so happy that it's over with," she said.

"I am too," he replied. "As a matter-of-fact, I brought your uncle's report-you know, the envelope you asked me to keep for you."

"Oh."

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"I don't know. It just seems so-so kind of final all at once. Everything over with-the end, you know."

"They call that let-down," he told her.

"I know. I've been feeling it all evening long."

"So, now you're already to return to the city and the big job that waits for you there, eh?" Dave asked.

"I haven't made any plans, Dave. I've just finished the report. I don't even know if it's satisfactory or not."

"It is."

"How can you be sure?" she asked.

"Because I'm the judge and I'm sure it'll be satisfactory."

"I hope so. But if it's not, well, there's nothing I can do about it. I'm through with this thing. Absolutely through. I don't want to have another thing to do with it, not even if it means not getting Uncle Amos' money. I couldn't stand another day of this ridiculous thing."

"Ridiculous?"

"Yes. That's exactly what it is."

"Then there was nothing to learn from it, right?"

She did not answer immediately. She thought of the things she did learn, especially those things about herself. She tried to weigh the new knowledge with the knowledge she had before beginning the report. And she decided that it was still ridiculous, the whim of a man who was no doubt losing his mind.

"Well?" Dave asked.

"Well, there was a little to learn," Janie said. "But not enough to make this work important."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said.

"I'm sorry it's that way, too," she answered.

Dave leaned forward a bit, then settled back in the couch again. He glanced at her, then looked away. Then he glanced at the floor, looking very much like a shy boy about to make a speech.

"You're sure you don't want a drink?" she asked again.

He glanced at her and grinned. "Maybe that would be a good idea. I think I could use one."

Janie stood up, then said, "Bad day, eh?"

"One that found me wrestling with many problems, none of them legal, either."

"Sounds bad," she said.

"It is," he answered. "Very bad."

Janie smiled and moved away from him and to the portable bar. She was horribly aware of her body as she glided across the room. She was aware of her skimpy attire, aware, too, that her bare legs flashed as she moved, that the bottom of the negligee was high and revealed much of her thighs. And, she was aware of the heaviness of her breasts, of the way they swayed to a double-beat rhythm with her hips as she moved. She was sure that Dave would think she had dressed this way deliberately. She was sure that he would consider her bold. But, it seemed silly to go upstairs and change, especially silly in that she had answered the door this way, had already sat and talked with him while in a half-dressed state. So, she made drinks, a tall one for Dave, a smaller one for herself. Then she carried them back to the couch.

Janie bent over and placed the drinks on the cocktail table. Again, she was aware of the heaviness of her breasts and of the way they became partly exposed when she leaned over. She glanced at Dave and saw that his eyes glued to her breasts, that they hungered there as if he could devour them. It gave her a good feeling to see that. She wondered about it for a few moments, thinking that she enjoyed Dave's eyes on her body while she detested the looks other men gave her.

Janie sat down next to Dave again.

He picked up a glass, handed it to her, then took his own.

"To the end of this damn thing," he said, tilting the glass in her direction. "Amen to that," she replied. They each took some of their drink. Their eyes met over the rims of their glasses and their eyes smiled a bit, much as if they conveyed a conversation of their own.

When Dave finished another swallow of his drink, he replaced the glass on the table, then leaned down and unzipped his briefcase. From it, he took a thick manila envelope. He tossed it on the table.

"There's Amos's report. It's yours."

She looked at it, then turned to Dave and nodded.

"Well, aren't you going to open it?"

"Not unless you insist upon it."

"I won't insist upon that," he said definitely. "Not now at least."

The way he said it made Janie turn and look into his face. He was smiling.

"What are you going to insist upon, Dave?" she asked softly.

"Many things," he answered. "For a starter-this--. "

Before Janie knew what was happening, he had wrapped her in his arms and jerked her close to his body. He held her tightly, yet gently. And his lips upon hers were gentle, too. Terribly gentle. So gentle that Janie wanted more of them, more of them and wanted the hard plunge of his tongue too.

She moaned and parted her lips. Dave's tongue responded to the entrance she made for it. And then she brought her own into play, spinning it against Dave's, drawing upon his, relaxing, giving of her own, then taking his again, on and on and on, forever it seemed, without breathing, without thoughts, with nothing but the dramatic sensations they created in each other. And the sensations grew and grew and grew and became confused with other feelings-the feeling of Dave's hands upon her breasts, one hand busy there, the other at the small of her back, circling, massaging, endlessly circling until it lowered and clutched desperately at her buttocks.

"Oh, Dave," Janie cried into his mouth. "Dave, Dave, Dave."

"Sweet, Janie," he whispered into her mouth. Then he drew back, carefully opened the top of her negligee, exposed her breasts, lifted them in his hands, then bent to taste of her sweetness.

Janie felt herself fill with emotion and she was sure that she was spinning as if in a dream. She stretched lengthwise on the couch, but the dizziness continued. And then she spun harder when Dave opened the remaining enclosure of her negligee, slipped it from her body, then bent to kiss harder at her breasts and ribs, at her hips in turn, each side, first one then the other, endlessly kissing, tonguing her flesh, moving up and down, then down, down, down, very low, so low that new sensation swamped her and made her cry out a little wail of delight.

Dave raised and looked into her face. He smiled.

She smiled back. Then she opened her arms wide and Dave brought a kiss to her mouth again as she clung tightly to his neck, burying his head to her mouth, to her breasts, to her stomach finally, and then lower, burying him to every part of herself that she could cause.

She caused a great deal. As he explored her body with his mouth and tongue, she began to whimper and her body responded to that sound, it seemed, for it began to rise and fall, almost in tune with the sounds that issued from her throat.

Again, Dave drew back. Again he smiled at her. But this time she did not return his smile. She could not. Her feelings were much too tense, much too explosive and threatening to allow for smiles. Dave saw it too. He pushed away from where she lay on the couch. He stood very tall at her side, looking down at her and showing not a sign of self-consciousness as he quickly undressed.

Janie's eyes flicked closed and open, causing her to see mere patches of his action, only brief flutters of his clothes being removed and the flesh they exposed for her view.

And finally, she saw his nudity. He was very strong, very lithe and agile, very much ready to send her spinning with his love.

Dave was careful, gentle, very tender as he moved to a position of domination over Janie's body. And she found that he was much more patient than she for her hands shot outward, clawed and scratched at his waist as she tried to hurry his taking of her. But Dave was not to be hurried. He acted like a man who had waited all his life for this moment and now that it had arrived intended to know it fully, every moment and movement of it. He did, too. He touched her breasts again, sent them to a crazy quivering with his fingers that kneaded, then played with the long, hard nipples. And Janie's body shuddered horribly, convulsively, when Dave trailed his fingers from her breasts downward over her body to her thighs. He moved them with the sureness of a surgeon; with the delicacy of a musician; with the ability of an old-country craftsman.

Janie cried out when Dave gently massaged at her inner thighs. She heard her own cry in her ears and it seemed that it came from another, that it issued from one who had long known the responsiveness to a lover. Janie couldn't believe that it had come from her own throat, yet, all the familiarity of her own voice was there. But the words were different. For the first time they formed a mumbled confession of love. It was answered by Dave's naked body leaning over her, adjusting her to him, and finally his plunge that sent her searing with sensation as their bodies locked together and Dave once more hovered his mouth over hers.

They moved expertly and slowly together. They kissed as they moved, also expertly, also gently, gently until their bodies speeded, then their mouths locked tighter and their tongues played together in a miniature duplication of the act of love they were performing.

Suddenly, when they had reached a high speed of movement, Janie's body stiffened, she arched, she cried out, she pressed her legs more tightly around Dave and it seemed that they sought to crush the life from him. But they did not. They instead encouraged a final speed of his giving, a greater love-lashing from his body.

"Yes, yes, yes," Janie cried. "Oh, yes, oh, yes, my David." He whispered a hushed word of love, then made his final surge.

Janie hoisted her body high and clung to him. It was as if they were one, as if two parts had been reduced to a single unit of motion and love and thrill.

And finally, Janie was sent beyond the reality of Dave's hard body. She was sent to the stars and beyond them, to the heavens and beyond that place, too, was sent on, higher and higher and higher until at last she flared like a bursting rocket in the sky.

Janie collapsed and fell into a deep slumber. Dave lay close to her body, stroking her hair, whispering the sounds and words of his love for her. And then they slept. But only for awhile, for Dave Chalmers, for he awoke, looked at his love, then gently left her side.

He stood for a long time looking down at her. Then he smiled, dressed, and gently stole out of the room and the house, leaving Janie to her deep slumber, to her dreams, to the restfulness of her body that had, at long last, been realized in love.