Chapter 8
As the tenure of his stay at the Bay City High School drew near its end, Don Haywood found himself thinking more and more of the astonishing beauty, Lio, who was only sixteen, yet appeared as worldly as all the generations of mankind; Lio, of a magnificent body that she would not share; Lio, of seriousness of purpose and dedication to her ambition to attend Blair State College.
Finally, after Don had reviewed all the applications and applicants from Bay High-after he had approved many he would have rejected a few weeks earlier-only one remained. Lio herself had not yet appeared for an interview. And Don steamed with impatience, with desire and frantic lust, to have the girl appear, to face him, to either win an interlude with her fairly, or, if need be, to force her to submission through the power of his position.
So it was that Don remained behind at the office provided him at the Bay City High School after all the others, teachers, students, even the custodians, had departed for the day. The hour set for his last interview had long past, but still he remained, despondent, but hopeful that Lio might still seek him out, present herself for his decision. And he waited while it grew dark outside, waited still, even after Cass had phoned to inquire of his plans: Was he ready to leave? Would they wait until morning?
Cass had seemed somewhat pleased when he told her that they would remain until morning, then entrain at an early hour from the small railroad station in the center of the small town.
Then he remained, quiet and alone, brooding a bit, for another hour. And then the sharp ring of the telephone shocked him to alertness.
He pushed forward in the swivel chair and grabbed the phone, rushing a hurried response into the mouthpiece. But Don was sorely disappointed. His late hour caller was none other then the Dean of Blair State.
"How are you, Don?" the dean asked.
'Fine, Sir. Just fine."
"Good."
"It's a little late for you to be calling, isn't it, Dean?" asked Don.
"It is," agreed the Dean. "But I've stayed late at the office to go over the approved applications you've sent me."
"Oh."
"Don, what in the world has gotten into you?" queried the Dean seriously, sounding as if he inquired of poor health.
"Why, nothing, Sir. What's wrong?"
"Some of these applications you've approved are amazing-absolutely amazing. They seem hardly representative of the graduates we want at Blair."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes. You know that, Don. Why, heavens, some of these are applications from downright trouble-makers."
Don, hesitated, mentally reviewing those trouble-makers he had approved for admission to Blair. They were all girls, all lovely, all with fantastic bodies, all free and delightful and-.
"Don-are you still there?" the Dean asked loudly.
"Yes, sir."
"Well, what about these borderline cases you've admitted? What about these students who aren't even borderline-those who are just plain bad Blair material? You've approved them. What's your explanation?"
"The great free-thinking-the great liberal beliefs that are the tradition of Blair State-that is my explanation, Sir," Don said hurriedly, as if he were anxious to get the phrase out before it cooled.
"Ummmmmmmmm," said the Dean.
Encouraged, Don went on, saying, "You see, sir, I feel that Blair is far beyond the ordinary norms and tests that are used by most colleges to evaluate prospective undergraduates. We have a tradition of liberal attitudes, individuality, freedom, and all these things must be utilized when we approve or disapprove a candidate for admission to Blair. Every case is individual, I've come to realize that, and there are always things that don't show up on an application form or entrance exams. So, I've been judging students on many individual merits. I'm-I'm quite prepared to take the responsibility for their selection."
It was quiet a moment, then the Dean said, "Very interesting, Don, very interesting, indeed." There was a pause during which Don hardly breathed, then there came the Dean's voice again, saying, "I'm considerably shocked by some of your approvals, Don, I admit that. But I'm prepared to go along with your own judgment. You know Blair, and obviously you know the students you're interviewing, so well-I'm prepared to go along with your own evaluation, Don. After all, you've never failed Blair yet-I doubt you will now. Right?"
"Right," Don repeated, breathing easier.
The Dean spoke a few more words about the weather, Don's itinerary, and the results of the latest Blair track competition, then he said, "And how are you and Miss Bigelow getting on together?"
Don had a quick flashing thought of Cass, of the perverted sexual episode they had shared, then he said, "Oh, fine, sir, just fine."
"Good. I just thought you two might work well together."
"We do," Don said.
They said their good-byes and Don replaced the phone on its hook and shoved it across the desk.
It was as he leaned back in the swivel chair again, half-turning as he did so, that he saw Lio standing in the doorway looking at him.
He nearly exploded from surprise. He shot forward to the desk again, bringing his hands to the top of it with a thump.
"Good Lord, you startled me," he said.
"I know," she said quietly. "I'm-I'm sorry, professor."
"Well, don't be," Lio, there's nothing to be sorry for. I'm delighted to see you. Come in. Sit down."
"In the dark?" she asked.
"Oh, of course not," Don laughed. "Here." He reached forward and switched on the desk lamp.
Lio remained where she was at the door. Her black hair was as long as Don remembered it, still hanging loosely far below her waist. And her complexion was still that remarkable mixture of brown and yellow and some other secret darkness. Her body was as exquisite as he remembered it, too. It still was made up of those glorious qualities of perfectly proportioned breasts and hips and waist and thighs and legs.
Only her eyes and the dress that she wore made her appear different than Don remembered her. Her long, dark eyelashes seemed moist and they more frequently lowered to cover her eyes. And she wore a severe black dress, one that might be worn for a formal party or for traveling.
"Well, come on, Lio, sit down," Don coaxed.
She walked to his desk. Her body rippled with energy as she moved, but it seemed a different kind of energy, that kind that is made up of nervousness and upset rather than from the natural, liquid agility of her grace.
Lio glanced at Don, then sat down in the chair at the side of his desk. Her knees came primly together but her skirt insisted upon rising above her nylon-clad knees until several inches of pleasurable flesh was exposed. And the low bodice of her dress could not help but be bold and point openly so that the yellow-brown contours of her breasts were delicately revealed to Don. And her breathing behaved naughtily; it encouraged her breasts to puff and diminish, then puff again.
Don saw all of her at a glance, felt all of her impact as strongly as if he had been shot in the chest at close range. He felt dry and choked and rather inaudible.
"I'm glad you haven't left town yet," Lio said, looking directly into his eyes.
"Well, I'm glad too," Don said, hearing his words as if they came from a stranger. "And I'm especially glad that you decided to come and see me about your application for Blair."
"Are you?" Her smile was cynical. "Of course."
"That's why you're glad I came to see you, professor?" she questioned again as if she were a lawyer driving for a different reply.
"Certainly."
"Because you're so interested in giving students a chance to attend Blair, Professor?"
"I wish everyone could go to Blair," Don replied.
"Can I go?" she asked suddenly, much quicker than Don had anticipated.
He leaned back a bit in his chair. Lio had come to the crux of the matter quickly, even before Don had a chance to consider how he might approach the subject of her body's barter.
"I don't know," he answered. "But tell me, why are you so intent about college in the first place?"
"Because I have certain obligations to fulfill. And because I want to-to be free of this town."
Don nodded, then said, "Sounds reasonable, Lio."
"Then am I accepted? Will you approve my application?"
For an answer he let his eyes slide over all of her body, let them burrow into the roundness of her breasts, then lower and assault the wrinkle of her dress at her thighs. And as he looked at her boldly, conveying, he knew, his silent proposition, the trade of her sex for a Blair admission, he felt a sudden gush of horror for how he had changed, the way only a few weeks had turned him from professor to cad. But he could not reject the cad in himself. It was impossible, at least until he had filled in all the vacant and sexless years of his past.
Lio leaned forward a bit, then said, "You have to understand that I'm not like the other girls-that I can't be as loose as they are. I've made commitments-if they're broken-I-I could suffer for the rest of my life."
"I haven't said a word about commitments, Lio," Don said, surprised at the smoothness of his tone. "I haven't said a thing about your friends who are loose-those who-well, know how to demonstrate their qualifications for Blair."
She smiled thinly. "Of course you haven't. You're much too shrewd for that."
"I shrewd? Really, Lio."
"You are. And it rather surprises me. When I first met you, I was sure you couldn't be the kind of man you've turned out to be-the kind that makes a whore out of a college education."
"Lio! Please!"
"Don't be so shocked. I can use profanity. I can use my body, too. And you know it, Professor Haywood, you know it so darn well or you wouldn't be sitting there now trading Blair for this." She moved her hands quickly and brought them down her body in a long caress.
Don hated the vulgar tone her voice had taken. He hated the absence of subtlety. He had wished-and had expected-that he would accomplish with Lio that which he had achieved with the others without the use of words and designations that made sex and love seem vulgar and cheap. But Lio had been brutally direct. Don wished that she had not.
Lio rose from her chair and stood at the side of the desk. She looked down and smiled. Then she straightened her body as if readying it for a blast.
"All right, Professor," she said. "You win. I'll play it your way. The price might be high, but it's worth the chance in order to leave this town-to get away-to-be free of-."
"Yes, Lio. Free of what?"
"It doesn't matter," she said, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter. Nothing does."
Don pushed up from the desk. His heart was pounding heavily and although he loathed himself for what he was doing, he could not help it. He wanted Lio, had to have her, even if he never had the pleasure of another female again, or, for that matter, even if having her denied him his very next breath of life. His lust for the strange yellow-brown girl was that great.
"Where shall we go?" she asked simply.
Again Don wished that she did not so definitely form what they were about to do into cold, hard words. But he had no time to consider it. His mind flashed with a dozen settings: motels, his own hotel room, the beach, the seat of a car, even there in the office, or the floor or a comer of any room or even behind the bushes in the school yard-anywhere.
"May I make a suggestion?" she asked when he did not answer. "Please do."
"In the auditorium-backstage. It's private, and there are places where we-where we will have room. It's been used before. Not by me. By our little friends, most of whom you already know very well."
"Lio, please."
"Shall we go?"
"Yes. Yes, of course, Anything you say, Lio."
She turned and went to the door. She waited for Don to join her. When he did they walked down the long, tiled corridor to its very end where another door led into the auditorium.
When they entered the dark auditorium together with its row upon row of seats at either side of the center aisle, Don felt a great growth of himself and it was more than physical. It was as if he were a king being led to an altar that would provide him with the beauty next to him. Whether it was an altar for wedlock or a sacrificial altar, he was not sure, but it was intensely exciting to be approaching it. And the greatest excitement of it was Lio next to him. She moved straight and unwavering down the aisle. Although it was dark and Don could barely see, he sensed the jiggle of her breasts and the gentle, comforting sway of her hips. She moved like a jungle princess, as beautiful as the most beautiful island in the world.
Midway down the aisle, Don experienced a fantastic stammer of his body. It was caused by even greater passion rising. He moved, yet felt incapable of movement, he breathed yet was sure his breathing had ceased. He felt shy as a small boy and as wild as a maniac.
When Lio and Don completed the long stretch of aisle, they automatically turned to the right and walked across the front row of seats to the stage steps. Here, Lio paused a moment, reached to the side of the wall and flicked on a single light. It was a soft, red, overhanging spot from the ceiling of the stage. Its glow cast them in the light red of a fire, made them seem hot and savage.
Lio moved up the steps ahead of Don. Now he could see the sway of her hips, the taut stretch of her long legs, the ripple of motion at her buttocks, and the sight nearly made him bend over in convulsions so great was his desire for her.
Don waited at the top of the stairs. Lio gave him a glance over her shoulder then proceeded through the curtains at the wing. Don followed her.
Backstage, the red light from above continued to cast its eerie shade over the setting and over Lio and Don. The stage held a disarray of equipment; unused spot lights, long, snake-like coils of rope and electrical wires, tumbling mats, and lockers along the wall that contained costumes and more equipment. Don looked around and thought how mysterious and lonely a stage looked when it was without people. Then he looked at Lio and thought how right it was that they were alone, bathed in a red glow, and preparing to make love someplace on the silent stage.
Lio walked close to him. She seemed different, as if everything within her had suddenly come to a decision that brightened her. She no longer seemed hesitant and repulsed. Her step was quicker and the jiggle of her body seemed to have taken on a touch of anxiety, as if it, over and beyond the cautions of her mind, thrusted for use and activity. As Don noticed this change in her he wondered if it was because she was about to assure her admission at the college of her choice, if she anticipated this and the freedom that it would mean to her.
"Lio-you seem different," Don whispered.
"Yes. I know."
"Why?" he asked.
"Because I've just made things right in my mind. I've brought the risks-even the violation of my vows-together with the opportunities I will have away from this town-away from my people here-and I know that it's right-that I have made a right decision."
The words sounded strange to Don, much as if they summed up a story he should already know, but did not. He felt, too, that he had become the center of her story, both the hero and the villain, and that all of her life was woven around it.
Sweetly, with little-girl steps, she came to him. "So, please, are you ready for me?"
The sweetness of her face, the softness of her body everything about her, made Don suddenly feel as if he were violating an innocence that had once been holy. And just that quickly, he decided against it. He pushed Lio away from him.
Her eyes looked startled. "What is wrong? Do I not please you?"
"Yes, you please me, Lio, please me very much. But this is not necessary-I'm not quite as conniving as I was a second ago."
"But-."
"Hush, child," he said softly. "You'll go to Blair-I'm approving your application. It's a better one than most I've approved in this town. So-be happy, and let's get out of here quickly."
They turned. They left the stage. Lio was smiling happily, and Don felt quite good, felt as if he had not completely traded responsibility for those new matters of the flesh.