Chapter 12

Fatally wounded, Eddie LaRose staggered away from Alice until he had reached the stalks of corn.

Alice quivered against the hideous rain and sloppy earth. Now she removed her hands from her face and looked across at Eddie. She saw him stagger into the tall corn. His heavy body crushed and snapped the stalks. Then he fell with a heavy thud. One dying groan was uttered from his foul lips. Then nothing else. Only the beating rain and the rustle of the weather against the earth and corn stalks.

Eddie's silence hurt Alice. She cried harder. Once when lightning flashed, she spied the path of his fatal walk. She felt impotently weak. Her shoulder bled. The wound was disturbing her.

She had to get out of the cold and raw weather. However, she must go to Eddie first. She must help him. Maybe he was still alive. Maybe the bullets had only wounded him. She had to save him. She hadn't really wanted to kill him.

Weakly, Alice dug her fingers into the mud, then slapped the wet mud against her open wound. Somewhere she had read or heard that mud would hold the bleeding part of the body. Once she had fixed the mud over the shoulder wound, she pressed her left hand over the mud to hold it there. Then she staggered to her feet and plodded her way over towards the place where she had last seen her vile lover.

"Eddie!" she screeched. "Eddie!"

There came no reply, only the thudding rain and the rustle of the heavy corn stalks.

Her suspense nearly murdered her. Now she ran, more wild and disheveled than ever. Her near naked body was flushed and filthy with muddy particles. To her bone marrow, she felt the chilly discomfort. Her teeth chattered, and her skin tissues felt numb, and as if she was dreaming all this.

When she came upon Eddie's body, she stopped, clutched to a corn stalk to steady herself. He was lying flat on his face, his head completely submerged under a watery-puddle. Even if the shots had not been fatal to him, now his life was snuffed out. He was quite dead.

Alice fought her way to him, flinging herself down upon that part of his body which was visible.

"Eddie, honey," she said in a chilly tone, "speak to me. Eddie, please. I never intended to hurt you. You made me ... oh, I didn't mean it ... I didn't. I didn't!"

While Alice would hardly have shown any remorse for her crime had she been completely sober, under the circumstances, but she was half drunk. She was nearly wrecked mentally. Reality was, somewhat, vague and imaginary to her.

At last she forced herself to her feet and staggered about in aimless circles until she finally found herself back at the car. She actually fell into the gully along the gravel road before she managed to get across it. Her fingers and arms looked raw white, only in the darkness, now, it was hardly visible. The young woman possessed a strong constitution, and the liquor she had consumed helped to keep her blood circulating enough to render her salvation enough to reach the car.

Once she had managed to get inside the car, she was able to rest and some senses returned to her.

Instinct, more than certainty, made her get behind the wheel. The motor had never been shut off. Eddie had left the motor running in order to keep the hearer warm and the car comfortable for them. It was very warm and cozy inside the vehicle.

Alice made no attempt to remove her drenched underthings, her mind was set on getting back to the apartment. So she tried to turn the car around on the narrow rain-drenched road. Naturally it couldn't have been done. Not even by an expert and sober driver. Yet she tried. Only she hardly moved the car backwards before she had backed straight into the ditch. The car bounced. She was jostled over to the right side. There she fell backwards in the seat, started racing the motor, hearing the spinning wheels.

Realizing that the car was stuck in the gully, Alice discarded the idea of driving back to town. She reached over the back seat and found the remaining bottle of liquor. After managing to get the cap off, she drank crazily, hoping it would stimulate her enough to keep herself together until morning. Or would there be any morning for her? How would anybody know where she was, or where to look for her. The main issue which she was somewhat conscious of, was the fact that she had killed Eddie. A murder crime hung heavy over her head. The liquor would help her to eliminate thoughts of her cruel deed. It would completely take her into another world. Give her a boost into a dream world, if she drank enough of it. So she kept tilting the bottle to her lips. The car motor hummed. The rain beat constantly upon the top of the car. It was very warm in the front seat. The heater sent warmth against Alice's naked thighs, drying them out. Even her undergarments began to dry on her body.

The minutes passed. Then an hour. At last Alice dropped the whisky bottle to the floor and slumped over along the front seat with her head in the driver's seat. She had definitely passed out.

The rain beat down. Thunder growled. The car motor missed, once or twice. It's gas tank was empty and it stopped altogether. Yet, by now, Alice was hardly aware that she even existed. She lay motionless and as dead against the seat.

Alice had not been gone from the apartment more than an hour before Frieta awakened. She heard it raining and thought no more or less that another rain storm was in progress. Upon hearing no sound, and sensing that Alice must be asleep in another room, she climbed from bed and dressed into a cotton dress. Her stomach pains had ceased. She felt as good as ever, now.

At the dresser, Frieta turned on a lamp, saw to her make-up and combed her hair. She was thinking about her pregnancy. And she had a savoringly idea just what she was going to do about it. She would definitely get married. With the right man, she felt that all her morbid sickness could, at least, be solved. Her husband could satisfy her until she could be cured, that is, if there was a cure for her.

She was definitely going to have her baby. She wanted it, despite the fact that it might not be just right. If she put it up for adoption, it would be better than destroying it's life.

She entered the front room and turned on a light. She looked down at the divan where she had heard Alice sobbing, earlier. Two pillows were at one end of the divan, a dent was pressed on them, but her mother was not there. Neither was Alice in her bedroom, nor the kitchen. She had gone out, or was probably next door at Gladys's quarters.

Frieta crossed the room, opened the door and crossed over to Gladys's door. She knocked. There was no reply to her knocks, so she decided that Gladys wasn't home either. Maybe the two women left together. Anyway, it was nothing for her to get upset about. She had to look to her own wants, right now. A pressing urge was creating a morbid sickness in her which she could not appease on her own. No longer was she going to deny herself by self-indulgence. She must act according to her desires and fancies. She was already with child, so it didn't matter any longer just how much she did it to quench the savage thirst inside her body.

She returned to the bedroom and selected a transparent slicker from the closet. Bundling herself up very snugly, she called a taxi. Inside of twenty minutes the taxi-cab arrived and, taking her purse and umbrella, Frieta left the apartment.

She directed the cabman to drive her to Eighth and Barnet to Charley Boyles's apartment, and when the taxi reached the big apartment building, a few moments later, she paid her fare and alighted to run inside the vestibule out of the rain.

The self-service, just inside the hallway, was up on the sixth floor, so Frieta used the stairway at the left of the elevator shaft. Charley's rooms were on the third floor. It was no job for her to walk up.

Once at the apartment door, she pushed his doorbell and heard someone playing the piano. She recognized Charley's own style and nimble-fingered piano playing. She smiled, thinking how long she had postponed accepting his proposal. Now she would tell him the truth, and if he still wanted to marry her, she would accept him as her husband. She assumed Charley was a very potent man, despite being over forty. More than she could recall, he had teased her with caresses, and gentle pawings along her naked arms. How she had wanted to clutch him and demand that he take her, but she had felt too ashamed at the instances. No longer was she to halt the fierce love which he had for her. His great desires would be satisfied now, as well as her own fierce sensual thirst. Her body screamed for attention as she contemplated her daily fulfillment.

Charley opened the door, greatly surprised to see her standing there.

"Frieta, my dear," he said, taking her into his arms and closing the door. The apartment smelled sweet, of burning mild incense. Charley wore summer tights, and his chest was bare. Frieta knew he slept as he felt. He had a mania for nudity. Such a man was after her soul. She could not imagine why she had denied herself all such persistent demands of her body for so long. She hated herself for his foolish self-perservation.

"What's brought you out here so late, my dear?" he asked, guiding her towards the lavish front parlor. "I was just hoping someone would drop in to spend the evening. Rest your wraps, my lovely one."

She wished he wouldn't be so damn polite and timid towards her. Maybe that was the reason she had usually prolonged her sensual love since his wife had died.

Taking a seat on the settee, Frieta watched him take her things into the bedroom, then she sat down, picked a cigarette from the coffee table and lit it. She crossed her legs and was smoking when he returned to the room.

He sat down beside her and his light brown eyes seemed to sparkle with his queer delight in the dim lamp glow.

"You're lonesome, aren't you, Charley?"

He dropped his head, but did not have any reason to reply. Instead, he said, "Care for a drink? I can fix you a high-ball, or martini?"

"No thanks," she smiled, watching his nervous and uneasy eyes. "My stomach has been upset all morning, honey. I'm afraid that drinks might make me ill again."

"That's too bad, Frieta. What's th' trouble?"

"For th' time being, lets just say an upset stomach."

"Want me to play for you? I was composing a new song when you rang the doorbell. Maybe you'd like to hear what I've written thus far?"

"I'll hear it another day," she said.

He frowned, unable to imagine just what was bothering her.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"Something's always wrong with me," she said invitingly. She knew he'd never catch the hint. "Well, that's natural in girls your age, dear one. You look very pretty, with your hair-do. I never realized you were so beautiful, Frieta."

Now he's getting warm, she thought. His wife certainly spoiled his lust for women. She must have been extremely cold-natured, Frieta imagined.

"What do you do all alone here at nights?" she asked. "Just play the piano and read all your books?"

"What can any man do who has no woman in his life. It's hellishly sickening, Frieta."

"Don't remind me," she said, watching the hard cue in his eyes. "I know what you mean, honey."

"Do you really?" he smiled, as if he thought she was lying.

"You bet, my dear."

"Of course you're not a man, Frieta. Women can find plenty lovers, but a man my age must be particular. My youth is gone. You're young and beautiful. Plenty young men would fall for you. How do you manage to avoid the young wolves?"

"That's easy. I stay shut in. How else? If they don't know I exist, there's nothing for me to worry about. But, getting back to the point. Honey, you're not old. Music and novels and with all your composing ability. Why, Charley, you're simply beautiful. You're something special to me." As she spoke she reached over and caressed his bare flank. His eyes went down to her long-tapering fingers, which felt so soft and tantalizing to him.

There was no need for her to pretend any longer. She felt the demanding thrust inside her, and her nerves leaped with a sudden jolting that made her ashamed. She looked into his eyes and caught her breath.

"Frieta, I love you," he said. He had finally sensed the feelings which possessed her. "Can the disparity of our ages harm us?"

"Charley, don't tease me," she nearly begged, "Nothing can harm us tonight!"

Slowly he leaned over towards her. Their eyes met, savoringly. He did not fail to notice the lusty temptations in her dark eyes. A magnet of sensualty was drawing them towards each other. Then, suddenly, she was in his arms. She felt him anxiously, and he caught her chin, turned her lips up and pressed his firmly upon hers. His mad desire for her had intensified. She had thought him capable, but never for once had she realized he was so virile, so strongly aggressive.

"I've wanted you terribly, Frieta," he moaned, as his tongue moved hotly along the slope of her throat, then paused at the edge of her bosom.

Frieta twisted herself backwards on the settee, brushing strands of hair from her face. Her exotic fragrance seemed to stimulate his violent passions to a seething peak. She felt her throbbing pulse.

"I've wanted you, tool" she began, pulling him down upon her. "Take me, Charley. Take me, please. Hurry ... God, hurry!" Her words were uttered so impulsively and involuntarily, that he seemed paralyzed by her savage animal-like tone.

"Frieta! You're beautiful," he cried. "God!"

There was a daybed at the rear of the oblong room. Charley usually lounged there in the late afternoons when he had finished with his daily music teaching.

He picked her up and carried her over to the daybed. There, she quickly fumbled with her skirt and underthings until she was naked. Then she fell back upon the daybed, watching his bronze body looming over her. His naked flesh inflamed her passions.

She felt the eagerness beating inside her, and her voice was more demanding than ever.

"Hurry, Charley. Hurt me. Do it to me!"

He caught her and moved her gradually forward so that she was directly exposed to him. Her back arched. Her head was flung back in a manner which intensified the strain in her body. Her breasts shuddered as she felt the heated friction of his lips and tongue. She felt her burning buttocks, unable to stop the mounting pleasure. As fire leaped more wildly into her, she pushed herself forward, seized his head and flung herself energetically. She pressed herself, quickly undulating her hips madly up at him, making him take her with more renewed energy.

"Oh, please ... please ... so good ... so good!"

He moved forward then. As he made the contact, her body became a rocket of quiverings and wildish convulsions which mounted by degrees as he insinuated himself quickly between her.

Suddenly she was crying and whining and laughing at the same time. She pressed her lips to him as the spasm of release sent her flanks towards the ceiling and made her kick and claw his arms and shoulders. His tongue parted her lips as she gave out, and she lay underneath him purring and moaning as the sensational feelings subsided.

Later they were kissing on the settee again. She had a desperate desire to spend the night with him, only she was afraid Alice might become worried about her. And she did not wish to cause her mother any more disturbances.

After they had showered and dressed, they entered the kitchen. Charley was a devoted bachelor when it came to fixing appetizing delicacies. He made Frieta sit at the table while he prepared a big dish of relish salad, and fried a catfish which he had been thawing since noon. It was just about eight o'clock, and Frieta had already phoned the apartment, but Alice hadn't answered. Therefore, she didn't see any need to hurry back home, since Alice wasn't there.

When the catfish was done, Charley sat the table and they had wine as an appetizer.

"Frieta," he said, "Will you marry me?" he proposed. "I love you, sweet one. I want you. I need you. Please, understand, baby."

She looked at him and smiled dreamily. "Do you really need me?" she asked with a trifle of pleasure in teasing him.

"You know I do."

"You know something, Charley."

"What, my love?"

"You may hate me after I tell you the truth."

"Nothing can make me hate you, baby. Nothing!"

She studied his smiling eyes. He was eating fish and sipping from his glass of wine.

"Did you notice how crazy I am?" she asked. The time was ripe to tell him the truth about her. She didn't know whether he would be disappointed in her after he found out or not. She had to have somebody. She must get married or maybe find herself with another man such as Eddie LaRose.

"I didn't think you were crazy," he denied. "You're a very sexual girl. I must admit."

"Charley, I'm sick."

"You told me that when you first came."

"No, no. I mean I'm sexually ill. I'm a nymphomaniac!"

He dropped his fish on the plate, eyed her with puzzled eyes. He was obviously unsure whether she was serious or not.

"Are you kidding?" he asked.

"Did I act like it?" she asked, and watched his thoughtful expression.

"No," he finally replied. Then he smiled. "So what? Any woman can find herself sick that way. Sometimes it's caused by various irritated conditions in the body. I might want you to even be that way, darling. I'm a very potent man. I have never found a woman who could satisfy me nearly enough."

"You mean you're that way, too?"

"I'm a white-livered man, Frieta. I never get enough."

She looked into his serious eyes, took a sip of wine and said, "I'll marry you, Charley. Anytime, you say so."

He smiled his acceptance, and lifted his wine glass in a toast to their future.

"But maybe I'd better tell you this first," she went on, watching his eyes turn more questioningly on her. She bit her lips, then dropped her head. Maybe she had better not tell him until he had finished eating. He might lose his appetite at the table as his appetite for her.

"What is it, sweet one?" he inquired. He could see the shame and hurt fingering in her baby-blue eyes. He rose from the table and hurried to her. Frieta had begun to sob. Teardrops oozed along her fair cheeks.

Beside her he lifted her up into his arms. "What on earth's wrong?" he inquired uneasily. "Come, baby, tell me. It doesn't matter. Nothing's so cruel that Charley wouldn't understand. You and Alice having money difficulties? I've got a lump saved...."

"Nothing like that Charley."

"Well, don't crucify yourself, my dear."

"You'll have to forgive me, honey. Will you?"

"Anything, baby."

"Well ... er ... er ... I'm pregnant."

He dropped his gaze, then grinned at her. "Why are you to blame for that?" he asked. "Have the child. It won't be mine, but I'll love it anyway. You could have a dozen babies as far as I care. Your children will be my children, Frieta. Despite how you feel about it. Why, thousands of men marry women with kids every day. Not theirs, but they treat them better than their own fathers might have. Don't fret, my dear. You need me more so, now. And I need you. We can be married within a month. Go to Paris on our honeymoon. We can live again, Frieta. I love you. I love you!"

She bowed her head against his chest and sobbed in tears of bliss. It was done. She was saved. How could she judge whether Eddie's baby would not be the sweetest child on earth, or not?

Now that Charley and Frieta had vowed their love for each other, they put on wraps and he drove her back to the apartment. Alice still was not home. While Charley stood at the bedroom door, Frieta had suddenly became suspicious of Alice's intentions. She had vowed that she was going to kill Eddie.

Frieta actually knew that she kept the revolver in the bottom dresser drawer. So she hurried into her mother's bedroom and yanked the bottom drawer open. Charley came and watched her, the more suspenseful that something might have happened to Alice.

"What's th' matter, Frieta?" he asked. "What's happened?"

She fumbled under all the linens but did not find the revolver. Did Alice actually take the gun and go out to murder Eddie? A great dreadful suspensefulness hung over her.

She sprang to her feet. "Alice's revolver is missing," she said. "She boasted she'd kill Eddie for messing with me. It's his baby, Charley."

"Now don't get excited, darling," he said tenderly, taking her into his arms. "We'll call the police. They'll find Alice."

"Oh, God!" she cried. "I hope nothing's happened to her. Pray to God that it's not too late!"