Chapter 11

The drive to Willow Beach took Vic and Lissa south of town. The sun was down, sending up shafts of orange light. The big car was purring along twenty miles above the speed limit, but Lissa saw that Vic was keeping a close watch for traffic cops. Down here, the terrain was lower, and as dusk came on, a depressing dampness set in. The breeze was fanning Lissa's face and she felt chilly.

When they turned off the pavement and struck the gravel road leading to the beach, it was quite dark. The moon had not yet shown its face. The dust hung heavy in the air, raised by cars moving ahead.

The place was crowded. Lissa heard a radio blaring, its volume turned up so high it made her eardrums throb. Teenagers were everywhere, both in and out of the water. She felt a bit skittish watching some of the other girls' bikinis, but so what. When she got into her own she would be just as nude as they.

Vic left her for about five minutes. When he came back he was wearing trunks that barely!

"Let's hit it, babe." His chest swelled. "I feel like a million tonight."

She looked at him. He was a fine physical specimen, even if a bit shallow underneath. And he was right. It was time she showed her father that she was a woman, capable of choosing and acting for herself.

Vic led the way, going into the water ahead of her. In a few moments he came up, blowing. He swam rapidly toward her, his muscular arms glinting under the moon's light. She was still standing near the edge, waiting for him to join her. She waited for Vic to come out.

"You chicken?" he said.

"No, Vic, I'm just not crazy about the water."

"Okay, okay. I'll teach you something besides your crummy breast stroke."

They went down a ways and waded in. When they reached shoulder depth, Vic stopped. Lissa could feel sand under her feet. The water was warm.

"Now, babe," he said, "put your arms on my shoulders and hold on."

Her arms went up and he crawfished, causing her body to rise.

"Now, kick, try to push ahead," he ordered.

She made a big splash but got nowhere. Then she felt his seeking hands on her thighs. He was tugging at her bikini.

"Vic!"

Chuckling, he backed away. Lissa let her feet sink to the sandy bottom. There were no other swimmers near them.

"Hold tight, Lissa."

She felt his arms go down and his body press hard against her. He was holding her tightly, his hands searching.

"Vic!" she muttered, "not here. Everybody will-"

"Quiet!" he hissed. "It's no problem. People can't see under water. I'm just teaching you to swim. Get it?"

She tried to pull back, but he only held her tighter and she felt him invade her. She wasn't in the mood, couldn't get into it. In a few moments, he shuddered and moaned. She pulled away from him and straightened her bikini.

He laughed. "You're learning, babe. I'll have you off that crummy breast stroke in a jiffy."

"You could have waited, Vic. You cheated me. You don't care for anybody but yourself."

"Relax, babe, we'll do it again after we leave." He splashed water in her face. "Anyway, as Mrs. Victor Miles, you'll have to have a lot of swimming lessons before you can do that crawl."

On the way home Vic didn't talk. He seemed bored with everything. Lissa didn't try to make conversation, but her mind was buzzing. Making love under water? It wasn't worth a damn. And what about Vic's conversation with his pals in the drugstore? Were they talking about her? Surely not. Yet, her father kept remarking what a confirmed liar Vic was. Did she love Vic and did he really care for her? Or was he just seeking those few moments of frantic effort that rewarded him with breathtaking thrills?

What if there was an accident? It could happen, as she well knew. Could she steal some of her mother's pills? But if an accident did occur, Vic would marry her and everything would be all right. They could go away if they had to. His father would give them money and . . .

She knew Vic had made love with many other girls. He was so vainglorious that he never tried to conceal his past affairs.

"Vic?" She touched his arm.

"What?"

"All those other girls?" "What about 'em?"

"I just wish you hadn't. Why did you have to tell me?"

"Stop goofin' off, babe."

"Oh, all right, I just can't help feeling jealous." "Forget it. Would you want to marry a square?" "I guess not. But you're sure I'm the one, really the one?"

"Of course, you are, if that'll make you happy."

He sat up straight and the big car leaped forward. "Now hold tight," he muttered. "We're headed for home."

She stared at him. "But, Vic, I thought we were going to—"

"Not tonight," he growled. "I'm not in the mood. I'll fuck you a dozen times tomorrow night."

Next evening, Lissa knew, was a special one at the Sylvandale Country Club. A dozen times tonight? Mercy! She thought three would be a plenty. Vic wasn't calling for her till late. Now, she was upstairs in her bedroom, watching for his car to turn in. But she didn't need to look for it. She could always hear the tires screeching.

She was decked out in a low-necked, beaded red dress. Her perfume was tantalizing, sexy, her eyelashes carefully done, her lipstick evenly applied, nails expertly lacquered, even her toenails. Her eyebrows were plucked and arched. If all this didn't make Vic want to screw, she'd have to send him to a head shrinker.

They found the country club crowded. Tonight the dancers were mostly teenagers, whose fathers owned the place and came there on weekends to play golf. The walls of the building had been finished in glistening wood paneling with thin pink strips running up and down. There were some fancy glass lighting fixtures, tinkling when the floor vibrated beneath the dancing couples. The band had already arrived and was playing. When the dome lights were turned off the table lamps were switched on, their glow softened by pink shades.

Lissa had never been there before. Facing Vic on the waxed floor made her feel she was dreaming. But she knew she wasn't. Soon, the future Mrs. Victor Miles would be coming here if and when she felt like it. Was she paying too high a price for all this? Maybe, but that pending ceremony at the altar would settle all accounts.

When the music stopped, Vic guided her off the floor.

"Having fun, Lissa?"

"Marvelous."

"You're a real swinger, babe." Licking his lips, his eyes measured her. "And that dress!" "Like it?"

"It's nice." Again, his gaze raked her. "You've got all the studs gawking."

He lifted his glass. "Here's to the queen of the mod generation."

She lifted hers. "And here's to my king."

The first swallow bit her tongue, almost choking her, but she stayed with it, while Vic took two more sips. Then he drained his glass and pulled a bottle from its frigid nest. She watched the stuff bubbling as he poured. She heard a stirring behind her and looked around. Here came Vic's pals, Gary Johler and Dudley Jones. Vic stood, and the two pulled up chairs.

"Sit down, fly-boys," Vic invited. "Where are your dates?"

Dudley said, "Gone to the powder room for a new coat of shellac."

"Their thatches were caving in." Gary tapped his head.

Lissa knew they were talking about the girls' upswept hairdos, the sort that looked as if they had come smack out of the African bush. But what could girls do?

Dudley was staring at Lissa. He said to Vic, "You got the same old chick, pal. When you gonna trade her in?"

"Man!" Gary said.

"Had her redecorated," Vic said. "She's good as new."

Both Gary and Dudley devoured her with goatish stares. She could almost feel their gaze boring into her chest.

"Yeah!" Gary exclaimed.

"Yeah!" Dudley echoed. "Swell furnishings, man!"

They all had another glass of the tongue-tingling stuff and Lissa began to feel a bit dizzy. The boys got up and left. She saw them joining their dates on the dimly lighted east terrace.

Vic looked after them and grinned. "Those studs and chicks are going out on the course to play a little miniature golf."

He lifted the bottle and started to pour another drink for Lissa.

"No, Vic. Please!"

"Now don't be chicken!" His shoulders stiffened.

"I'm not, only-" "Only what?" "If I went home and Dad saw me, he would—"

"That's a giggle." Vic waved his hand like a pendulum. "He won't open his trap. He's probably out screwing some broad."

Lissa stood up, feeling a little unsteady. "You don't know him, Vic. He's got an awful temper. He might do something desperate if you push him too far."

Vic downed his drink. "Well, he's in for a big slice one of these days." "How do you mean?"

Vic didn't answer for a minute. He was watching the couples jerking and twisting and bobbing to a hot number.

"The old squares, all of them," he said, harshly, "have got to tumble to the fact that our young set is different. We're hip. We're free thinkers and we're not going to let anybody cramp our style or hold us down."

"They think a lot of us are trouble, Vic."

Vic's face tightened. "Okay, let 'em think and be damned. We know what we're doing and where we're headed."

"In tune with our times?"

"You said it, babe." He banged the empty glass on the table. "We're individualists. We're on our way, hippies in clean clothes."

Vic and Lissa got up on the floor, with the rest, twisting and jerking and bobbing. She saw that Vic was a little drunk. Later, when the air cooled, he suggested they go out on the golf course to play.

"You know, babe," he grinned. "I promised to screw you a dozen times tonight."

"You'll have to show me," she kidded. "I'm guessing about three is your limit."

"Oh, yeah?" He pinched her tantalizing boobs. "I know a spot where the grass is thick and soft. We won't even need a blanket."

And they didn't. They just shed their clothes and lay down upon them. Their naked bodies resembled marble in the moonlight, except for the dark hair on Vic's chest. They started snuggling, and Vic's small whacker was weaving its head when they heard a giggling and murmuring nearby.

"What the—" Vic muttered, coming up on one elbow. "Oh, I'll bet I know who that is. It's got to be Dudley and his date. I saw them sneak out just ahead of us. I'm pretty sure he's been fucking that redhead we saw in the drugstore a few days ago."

Lissa said nothing, and Vic called, guardedly, "Hey, Dud, is that you?"

"Yeah, Vic," the answer came right back. "We're over here in the rough. How about joining you?" • "Okay, Lissa?" Vic whispered.

"Sure, Vic, the more the merrier. Tell 'em to come on over."