Chapter 9

The remaining hours of their stay were surprisingly uneventful. Estelle's performance and their continued drinking had reduced the possible opposition to sodden heaps, slumped ineffectually on the couch and stairs and floor. Matt bound them hand and foot while they were in this state, and only the smaller man-and he, not until he was securely bound-drowsily awakened. Noting Estelle's presence, he seemed to consider it merely another phase in their orgiastic revels, and smiling quite unperturbedly he surrendered once again to an intoxicated slumber.

This time, with the advantage of having studied the roadmap of the region in detail, Matt was able to choose and seek out the subordinate roads with less uncertainty. It was dusk when they started out, and after an hour on the road the complete blackness typical of remote areas of inhabitation closed in. There was no sign of police activity, though Matt maintained the precaution of dousing his brights and approaching intersections at a slow-rolling rate, a tactic which presently proved itself. Edging around a bend in the road, Matt saw the unmistakable presence of a parked police vehicle at the intersection several hundred yards ahead, the identifying red light stabbing at the darkness. Matt instantly killed his lights.

"Quick, Stell, you get up here in front of the wheel. I'm going to duck into the woods off the road here with Evelyn." He had already hurdled the seat and was lifting Evelyn and opening the rear door. "They spotted my killing of the lights, and they'll be right here. Tell them the car's been conking out on you. We'll go along the border of the road in the woods and meet you half a mile past the roadblock. They'll be looking for three people, one of the women hurt. They won't suspect you."

He cautiously ducked into the bordering foliage, and within a matter of seconds the police car, approaching with a tentative caution, stopped alongside Estelle. She was pleased to discover that it was one police officer, and a youthful and attractive one at that. "What's wrong, lady?" he asked her.

"Oh, my car's been conking out on me all day like this. But after I give her several minutes, she just starts up again."

"Well," he volunteered, "if you can get it started again, Matero's garage is about six miles up if you make a left on 32B." And then, appraising her closely, he asked, "You're not from around this way, are you?"

"Not me," Estelle laughed. "I'm chasing my tail after a carney," she improvised. "I had an argument a couple of days ago and pulled out, and now I changed my mind and am trying to catch up with them." She anticipated his response of quickened interest. He toppled for the bait.

"What do you do with the carney?"

Estelle laughed. "Nothing any police officer would approve of-I'm a stripper."

He joined in her laughter. "Well, maybe not approve of-in the line of duty," was his retort.

"Say, what is a cute cop like you doing way out here in the middle of nowhere at this hour? Chasing a big-time bank robber just like in the movies?" Estelle kidded him.

He accepted it good-naturedly, adding wryly, "You're not so far off. Some guy and two women killed somebody at a motel, and I'm supposed to be part of a roadblock. A one-man roadblock tucked off in these back roads," he said derisively. "Can you imagine anyone who doesn't know back country like this trying to make a quick getaway on this Indian path?"

Estelle heard the rustling of the brush and immediately reached out her hand to hold his attention by fingering his police shield. She looked up into his face, screwing up her mouth and eyeing him from lowered lids. "I've always had a crush on uniforms and medals and badges and stuff. Especially when the right kind of people wear them."

"Now, what" he asked, with a chuckle, "is the right kind?"

"Oh, not the deadheads who take themselves too serious. They don't know how to unbend and have some fun when it comes their way."

"You're quite a teaser, aren't you? You must have picked it up at the carney, that come-on. Okay, lady, go ahead."

Estelle crossed the intersection, drove a while, and then began to slow down, straining her eyes in the darkness for fear that she would miss them. She almost did, for she had gone several yards past Matt and then caught sight of them in the corner of her eye, rushing into the road. She hit the brakes hard. Matt pulled open the door and then ran back into the woods for Evelyn. She came out, half stumbling and moaning. He lifted her, put her into position on the seat, and then exchanged positions with Estelle.

"She had to duck down and go on her own steam across the intersection area, and it opened her up again."

Matt hit the floorboard hard and when, in about ten minutes, they made it across the state line he began to look for a motel.

"Should we stop around here?" Estelle asked him, uncertainly. "We haven't actually covered too much ground."

The job of locating a motel was not a simple one, since they found themselves in an area of lavish estates. After cutting back and forth in various directions for several hours without success, Matt was disturbed about delaying treatment for Evelyn. The continuous jarring motions of the vehicle acted against the body's natural clotting powers as well.

In desperation, Matt pulled up alongside a small house, a rather decorative cottage, and knocked at the door. His objective was to borrow some ice and get specific information in regard to where they might stay; perhaps one of the large homes had boarding privileges, a dubious possibility but the only alternate to sleeping in the car, an eventuality which would be serious in Evelyn's condition.

The response to his knock was rather long delayed, and he was about to leave when someone opened the door. It was a graying man, slightly hunched over but seemingly quite vigorous with a quietly attentive face. When Matt mentioned something about his "wife being ill," the man at once opened the door wide and suggested that he bring her in. "There just isn't any such thing as a motel or any boarding or tourist accommodations around here," the man said. "Ordinances out this way wouldn't permit it. You have stumbled, young man, upon the feudal estates of the privileged class." He made the statement in obvious ridicule. He caught the nuance in Matt's questioning eyes and laughed. "Oh, this place, it's just the gardener's cottage. Come on and bring your wife, and we can do our talking after you attend to her."

"But I have my sister-in-law with me as well-"

The man waved his hand impatiently. "Bring them in. There's room enough. I live here alone."

His host introduced himself as George Ostrakhan, and it turned out that he was a most unusual man, with Matt and he hitting it off immediately. A native Greek, an Athenian, and a most cosmopolitan man, he had been a soldier and a socialist and "something of a man of letters" in his young years. After Matt had treated Evelyn and managed to staunch the flow of blood and get her to sleep with the aid of a sedative which the elderly man administered, Matt and he did quite a bit of talking.

George Ostrakhan sensed something of Matt's life-style and present difficulty, and Matt made no attempt to deny it. "What you ought to do is get yourself a place as a gardener on one of these estates. This way, you could occupy the cottage with your friends, attend to the woman who is ill, with no one the wiser. There's even some income and the meals generally are excellent, prepared by the main household chef."

He stood up, still lean, his arms exposed from beneath rolled shirtsleeves, hard and sinewy. He mused, half aloud, on the estates and some of the gardeners in the area, what changes had taken place and where Matt might apply. He dismissed several and then turned around suddenly with a knowing smile. "Yes, yes indeed. First thing in the morning where you want to go is to the Osterik estate. It was recently occupied by a Mrs. Ann Laurie Caldwell, a woman who was some years ago a theatrical figure of some prominence. She has been over this way several times, having admired the gardens. She thought I might be able to recommend someone. Actually, she was trying to get me to offer my own services. She tried to make the prospect appealing, momentarily, that is."

He smiled. "Not that she isn't attractive, because she is, very much so. But I'm afraid I'm no longer susceptible and don't feel particularly comfortable in the presence of 'unfulfilled women.' His laughter had a pleasant, human warmth. "But you-oh yes, she would be most susceptible to you. But then, of course, you know that. I was much like you physically in my younger years, and I know what that quality means. And, oh yes," it occurred to him, "don't give a thought to the lack of your gardening background. My recommendation will suffice, and besides, I will be able to give you any instructions you require along the way to maintain the place as long as you are inclined to stay."

Some time after 11:00 A.M. the following morning, Matt bathed, shaved, and refreshed following a substantial breakfast-left Evelyn and Estelle, at George Ostrakhan's suggestion, and drove up the long circular driveway before the magnificent Osterik mansion. He was presently admitted to the library. Soon after, Mrs. Caldwell, slim, brisk, and modishly groomed in a tailored garment ideally suited to her still exceptional figure, put in an appearance. Matt had his back to her, examining the mounted objects over the mantle, when she first entered, and her opening statement was most businesslike.

"May I see your credentials?" But as Matt turned around to face her, he caught the perceptible softening in her tone and manner. She extended her hand as they exchanged names, and she seemed to have forgotten her initial request. "I'm certain if Mr. Ostrakhan was kind enough to recommend you, you must be competent." She insisted upon escorting Matt around the grounds in order that he might "see the contour of the landscape." During the tour she became involved in a running monologue having no relationship to gardening, but dwelling entirely upon her career and celebrated appearances as a theatrical luminary.

When they came to the grounds adjacent to the left wing of the house, she stepped over the concrete border area to show Matt the facsimile of a moat of which she was particularly proud. However, there were several steep steps which, to negotiate, she needed Matt's assistance. But instead of taking her hand as she proffered it, he firmly grasped her about her upper arms and lifted her bodily to gently lower her down. Her unsettling loss of composure, after her woman-in-control-of-the-world performance, caused Matt to suppress a smile. The last step below was the steepest, several feet in height, and lowering her, Matt brought her directly up against him. He could feel the surprising firmness of her body, unencumbered by the special garments of support women in the matronly years have been perpetually dependent upon. He felt the breath go out of her and he sensed a sagging forward but an instant recovery and restoration of her coolly composed air.

The outdoors tour was followed by an exhibition of the mansion's luxurious interior, marked all over, on the walls along the way, by photo graphs and paintings of herself at various stages of her career. And after this, she suggested cocktails in the drawing room where they might "discuss specific details of the position," an intention which remained as unfulfilled as her previously stated purposes. Several hours had intervened since Matt's arrival, and nothing had transpired except for her interminable running monologue, accompanied by flourishes of the hand and strikingly posed positions to establish her charms.

Where at first Matt was annoyed, and then suddenly mocking and deliberately taunting with his suggestive closeness in order to secure the position and manipulate her toward his own ends, he now felt something akin to pity. She seemed so like a clenched fist, straining, balanced at the tips of her nerve ends. He was sitting immediately before her across a small, one-legged table upon which were poised the drinks. Without design now, he leaned forward, put his hand gently on her arm and said, "You're a very beautiful, very desirable woman. Why do you have to try so hard to prove it to yourself or anyone else?" She seemed stunned and hurt, as if struck across the face, until Matt added, "relax. I'd really like to talk to you. But let's skip the drawing-room social-butterfly tete-a-tete. As you can see, I'm not the type."

Without warning, she put her hands to her face and burst into deep, racking sobs. Matt put his arms around her, because at that moment he wanted to, and he held her for perhaps five minutes without speaking. Then as she slowly raised her face to look to him, her eyes tearstained, searching his for meaning, he took her face in his hands and kissed her. It was a long, deeply lingering, warmly passionate kiss. As her lips parted and her arms clutched him still, he said to her softly, "What's the great sin of needing a man? Why do you have to torture yourself? Why don't you just-reach out?"

She pressed herself against him, her fingers digging into his arms. Matt swept her up and carried her in the direction of the door, which he closed and locked while still he held her, and then toward the gilt-brocaded divan. He lowered her gently, her eyes still closed, biting her lip in anguish. He knelt down beside her and touched his lips to her cheeks, her eyes, her forehead, her throat. Her breath was coming in trembling inhalations and exhalations. He parted her lips with his own and the deep, sweet probings of his caressing tongue.

Holding her thus, he took his hand and began to mold the contours of her ankles and calves, her thighs, all on the outside of her garments, and then both hands pressing, modeling, sculpting her breasts from the warm, round, outermost circle to the vital nub. She sighed, and her tautness unfolded like a morning flower.

Still kissing, still caressing her, he began to disrobe her. First her shoes, then, his hand moving up beneath her skirt, he disengaged her nylons and drew them off as smoothly as a second skin. And then his exploring hand journeyed upward farther, deeply dipping into the waistband of the laced panties and inching them down. His movements were passionate caresses at every stage of the unveiling, until, at last, he slipped past that most vital of all sensors. Then his hand knew her in the kiss of his fingers on the lips that had longed remained unkissed.

He felt her straining against him, grasping his finger in the deepest internal embrace. He held her so, plying her with a rhythm of flesh, as with his other hand he raised her dress over her head and removed her remaining garments. During all of this, and as he reached down to yank and pull away his own clothes, he did not withdraw his hand from the liquescence. Now he slipped his uninvolved hand, open-palmed, beneath the small of her back and then, lifting her gently, turned her over, face down, still without any digital surrender of that inner woman. It was only now, as he bore down upon her, pressed the full nakedness of his own body against her and introduced his searching, resonant manhood between the rotund cheeks of her hind quarters, that he gave up the place of his hand.

"God, you're driving me wild willlldddd!" she cried. And then, "Ummmmmmmmmmm ..." she sighed. The crack between her buttocks was warm and re=-laxed and open and tingling with excitement. She began to mew with pleasure. She was beginning to feel as if she were floating on a fleecy cloud which embraced every inch of her thrashing body, caressing it, teasing it.

His fingers spread the crack between the buttocks wide apart. He grinned obscenely. The cheeks of her ass were relaxed and ready for anything he had in mind. He dragged his tongue deeply, wetly along the deep crack.

"Ahhhhhhh," she cried, thrashing. "Uhh, ohhhh, gooood, soooo wild and goooooood ..." she sobbed.

And then, after tongue-lashing the crack between the juicy halves of her buttocks, he moved his face back down toward the crack in her pussy mound. He pressed his face forward and his open lips covered her pulsing slit with a wet kiss.

"Oh, God!" she screamed. "My pussy! You're killing it! Eat it, kiss it, love it, ohhhh!"

She squirmed heatedly, trying to shove her heated mound closer to his lips. And then she gasped as his long, wet tongue slid easily and suddenly into her crack, slid in, digging deeply and gently in between the lips of her cunt. She jerked her hips convulsively as she felt the hot contact of his lips and tongue on her slit. Her body was jolted with an involuntary spasm of shivering delight. She jammed her buttocks back against his face and ground her cunt against his lips, sobbing and crying out and cursing obscenely, no longer the calm, virginal lady that she seemed always to be.

She felt his tongue slide in between the pink folds of her cunt. She began to contract and open the lips of her cunt on the tongue as it moved with a long, smooth dart to sink deep inside of her vagina.

"Oh, darling!" she screamed. "Your lips! Your tongue! Ohhhhhhhhhh, darling, lover, eat me! Eat me alive!"

She was gasping and mewing and grunting and twisting about in ecstasy. Her cunt was impaled on his long, diving tongue. She felt his tongue, licking, curling, fluttering, curling deep inside of her pussy. His wet lips were wide open and sucking as his tongue speared in and out between the creaming lips of her cunt. He was sucking and licking noisily, greedily, driving her into a frenzy. Her buttocks were swaying over his face, out of control, as she ground her cunt against his mouth, thrilling to the contact of his sucking lips and his driving, fucking tongue.

"God, it's wonderful," she sobbed.

She had completely surrendered to the thrill of his licking and sucking of her cunt. His tongue plunged wildly and withdrew as he tasted the heat and juice of her steaming cunt.

She could hear the wet sucking noise as his tongue flicked wildly and wickedly, expertly in and out of her gaping pussy hole. The sound thrilled her lewdly. She began to moan constantly as his tongue lashed over her slit, caressed her hard clitoris bud, licked it, curled around it, driving her wild. His face was buried between her heaving thighs as he sucked and teased, using his lips and teeth and tongue avidly on her pussy. She writhed under his tormenting mouth, churning her buttocks, squirming her mound wildly.

"Ohhhhh ..." she sobbed, loving the delicious sucking and tonguing of her cunt.

He was getting a lewd satisfaction as he felt the lips of her pussy contract and relax, squeezing his tongue as it dove in and out of her mound. The cheeks of her ass were rotating and tightly clenched with passion.

To him, her tender and steaming cunt seemed like a flower, unfolding, opening, as he sucked on it. The lips of her pussy stretched open wider and wider to give greater access to his fucking tongue. He could feel the wetness of her pussy juice on his cheeks as he hungered between her thighs. Her thighs moved raggedly in rhythm with his sticking tongue which swirled between her pussy lips like a living snake.

"Oh, honey, I'm coming, I'm sure of it!" she screamed out loud.

He could feel the increasing abandon of the woman in the way her cunt was grinding with greater and greater tempo. And then she came.

"Agggggggg!" she screamed. She felt as if she were going to explode. Tremors gripped her pussy. Orgasm. Orgasm followed orgasm as come-juice flowed hotly in and from her cunt. He lapped it up and fucked on and on with his long tongue. She shivered all over as she came, and he continued to eat eagerly between her quaking thighs.

And then she fell back, limp, spent, satisfied as never before by a tongue in her cunt. But he wasn't through with her.

"Beautiful, sooo beautiful," she purred, gasping for breath.

He rolled her over onto her back, and she lay spread-eagled beneath him, panting, helpless to defend herself.

"What... whaa ... what are you ... going to do?" she panted.

"I'm going to make love to you," he said softly.

"Ohhhhhh, but your prick is so big. It'll ... tear me in two. It's sooooo big and hard."

"Hush. Relax. Enjoy yourself, darling," he whispered.

"Ohhhh, I can't stand any more. My cunt's tingling and aching from your wonderful lips ... and tongue ... it can't take any more. No-"

"Yes!"

"Ohhhh, nooo, please ... you'll kill me ... I can't take any more ... I'll die!"

"Hush."

He moved over her, covering her thrashing body with his. He prepared to mount her, to ram his huge hard cock into her creaming, vulnerable and soft cunt.

"Are ... you going to ... fuck me with that hard big cock of yours?" she asked in a little, panting voice.

"Yes, I am, darling, and you're going to love it," he grinned as he moved his body over her, fitting his body over her trembling, lovely form.

He began to rub the hard and knobby head of his prick over the creamy lips of her tingling cunt. She sobbed and sighed at the feel of his huge instrument, so thick and blunt, rubbing teasingly over the parted cunt lips. The wet lips of her pussy contracted and throbbed like a sucking mouth around the rubbing tip of his cock. He feasted his eyes on her naked, submissive beauty, savoring this moment before he took her completely.

His cock and testicles ached, swollen, ready to burst. Her trembling, lovely thighs yawned wide apart as she waited, panting, for the in-thrust of his huge cock. He probed his cock over the wet soft folds of her cunt, parting her pubic hair as he did, completely exposing her wet slit.

He sighed and took a good deep breath. She was so tender and still ladylike as she lay, sprawled beneath him, her hips worming involuntarily. He surged his hips forward. The wet warm flesh of her pussy lips cringed apart before the piercing drive of his giant cock. His cock smashed in between the cunt lips. She was wet and hot and tight down there and her pussy lips clung tightly to his surging cock as it drove in.

"Aggggg!" she grunted. "You'll rip me open!" she screamed in pain and terror ... and fierce pleasure.

His cock surged into her. The walls of her vagina gave way and her pussy lips stretched wider than they ever had in the past to give entrance to his peter. He gasped as his cock sank in to its hilt, his swollen balls coming to rest against the deep cleft of her buttocks.

"Oh, you're filling my burning pussy up to bursting!" she cried out.

He thrilled to feel the walls of her cunt contracting tightly around his cock as it drove all the way into her. She began to tremble and sob with pain and pleasure. Her joy at having his great cock deep inside her was unrestrained. She thrust her cunt at his cock and they began to move, undulate together, his cock sliding in and out, very, very slowly, completing the rape of this proud and beautiful woman.

Her thighs were spread wide apart and her legs laced around his waist, the heels of her feet kicking with passion at his back, urging him on. His cock began to tunnel up into her cunt, then slid back out again, teasing her.

"You're so lovely, so soft and nice and warm," he said. "And you're so tight ..." he whispered to her as he slowly fucked her.

"I'm not ... tight," she gasped. "You're sooooooo big!"

She was wet and open. She was squealing with lurid delight. His cock began to skewer and rampage in and out of her throbbing cunt. Her cunt was so hot and flowingly ready for this, so well prepared by the suck of his lips and the lick of his tongue.

"Fuck me, lover, kill me!" she cried.

Her dilated vagina accepted the assault of his giant prick. She loved the heavy weight of his body on her. She hugged him close and ground her cunt up and down, meeting his cock, stroke for stroke, her buttocks, slick and heaving, slapping up and down on the soft cushions of the couch. The heavy weight of his strong legs crushed her as he sank his cock deep inside her. She groaned and sobbed, hardly able to catch her breath. Her body was churning beneath his, matching the fast tempo of his fucking.

Her cunt was stretched as wide open as it was possible to be and it felt as if he had shoved a log in. She clenched the muscles of her buttocks tightly together and screwed her ass around and around as she heaved her lovely body beneath him. She loved the raping feel of his fleshy staff deep in the tunnel of her vagina.

"Fuck me!" she screamed. "I love it! Ohhhh, you wonderful lover, you wonderful stud! Fuck me, harder, faster, fuck me!" she cried lewdly.

Her cunt muscles clasped wetly and warmly on his battering cock. Her pussy melted like honey before the shove of his great scarlet cock, now reddened and slick from jamming in and out of her. She fucked him back, inspired, out of her mind with joy, and she was fast becoming the best fuck he had ever had.

She loved the throbbing of his cock inside of her. Her back began to hurt as she thrashed her hips up and down, meeting him, keeping tempo with him. Her hip joints were getting sore. Her cunt lips were aflame with pain and delicious tingles. As he fucked her wildly, he slipped his hands under her slick, gyrating buttocks, cupping them. Then his finger sought and found her anus. He thrust his finger deep into the opening of her tight anus. She screamed with pain, never before having been invaded in such a lewd way. His finger began to fuck in and out of her asshole in the same rhythm as his cock was stabbing in and out of her flaming, clinging pussy.

After a moment, she got used to the double impalement, and began to love it. She loved the intrusion of his blunt fingers deep in her anus.

"Fuck me in the ass and cunt, lover!" she screamed, nearly out of her mind with joy.

It was a double rape of the woman. The thick finger was jabbing in and out of her rectum as his cock jabbed in and out of her creaming, throbbing pussy. His cock circled round and round as it plunged in and out of her slit, and his finger did, too, in her back passageway. As he fucked her two ways at once he sucked avidly on her bouncing tits, diving in and out of her, nearly driving her to distraction. He took her with long, lunging strokes and she sobbed and cried out for more, loving the pleasure that the pain of the double fucking was giving her.

The moist sheath of her sucking, stretched pussy lips throbbed over the invading thickness of his prick. He was bending her to his will, making her his mistress, body and soul. He was establishing his control over her in the most basic way known to man.

In and out of her his cock stroked with power, while his finger jabbed in and out of her rectum at the same time. The wet smack of flesh against flesh filled the room; the wet suck of her creamy pussy lips on his cock joined the juicy sound of fucking. She screamed and moaned and bucked beneath him, nearing her end, knowing that he was nearing his, too.

"Take me, fuck me, I'm going to come soon!" she sobbed.

"Move it, honey! We'll make it together!"

"Yes, ohhhh, yesssss!"

Her buttocks rotated, following his rhythm. She ground and twisted her pussy on his hard-driving pole. Her cunt lips seemed wetly glued to his stabbing and rigidly controlled prick.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhh, God!" she groaned, bucking wildly beneath him. His thick cock filled her completely, filled her cunt to the point where she was sure it would tear open. He lunged over her hard and she surged back at him joyfully, tears of ecstasy streaming down her flushed cheeks. His cock was like a monstrous raping pole. She loved it. Every bit of it. She had never had anything like it before. It was as if she were being fucked for her very first time.

He rammed over her with growing speed and abandon, sensing both of their ends were near now. He was taking her viciously now, as if he were raping her, and he was feeling sadistic glee in the taking of his beautiful proud actress.

Lust gleamed in her eyes. She was biting her lips with passion. His cock was cruelly hammering into her. His cock disappeared and reappeared between the wet lips of her excited pussy.

And then, all of a sudden, at the very same moment, they both came.

His fleshy instrument spat a huge load of creamy sperm deep into her vagina. At the same instant her orgasm dumped juice over the battering, ejaculating head of his cock. Hot thick liquid squirted into her. Her pussy lips sucked, holding his cock captive as it climaxed, the lips of her pussy contracting and relaxing, as if intent on squeezing every drop of come from his jetting cock. He was jabbing it into her mercilessly as he came, dumping a hot, spurting flow of come-juice into her. It filled her and she jerked her hips convulsively, raking her nails down over his back as she was jarred by her blinding orgasm.

He was buffeting her as if she were a helpless doll. She took everything he had to give. And they both shot their last bolts. With a scream of joy, she blacked completely out.

With his limp prick still buried deep inside of her juicy cunt, Matt stared down at her face with satisfaction. She was unconscious. He had fucked her so gloriously that she had fainted from pleasure. Her thighs were wet and lax. Come-juice drained out of her pussy soaking his balls, coating his cock, deflated, still sunk deep in her tingling vagina.

Her eyelashes fluttered open. She groaned, sighed, gurgling with fulfillment. She had never before been so completely and wonderfully used by anyone in her whole sexual life. She sighed and smiled up at him. She contracted the walls of her vagina around his now deflated cock.

"Ann-Ann!" The high-pitched, excited female voice from the other side of the door was accompanied by rapid tapping. The figure on the couch, coiled in its nakedness and still submerged in the hazes of bliss, leaped up at once, as if electrified. "Yes, yes, dear-I-I'm involved in a new landscape plan for the garden and can't be disturbed for just a little while!" At which point, she was already on her feet and, oblivious to the effect of her frantic and disordered behavior before Matt, grabbed for her articles of clothing. The voice on the other side of the door sounded annoyed. "I want to talk to you. Can't the damned gardening wait?"

"All right, dear. I'll be downstairs in just a little while. I'll make it very fast." She was already stepping into and pulling on her garments. She glanced at Matt's nakedness, showing extreme distress. "It's my daughter, Tina," she said.

Matt reached for his clothes. "It'll take me just a minute." There was a dressing room alcove, where she rapidly arranged her hair and reapplied her makeup. Then she literally ran across the room. At the doorway, she paused and said to him, her eyes imploring, "Please- please come down as if nothing-happened." And when minutes later Matt descended the long spiral staircase he saw Mrs. Caldwell with all of her former aplomb, talking with a tawny panther of a girl, with tight pants molded to her lithe figure and terminating in deep wine-colored boots with heels. She was continually in motion, tossing her head, waving her hands as she talked.

"-and we're going to go up to Lake Barth with the motorcycles. They're having some races up there, and Peter's entering. But he doesn't have the hundred-dollar entrance fee. These are real professional races," she was saying at a mile a minute.

"I'll give you the hundred dollars, dear, but don't you think you might go up to the lake by car instead of motorcycles? It is a hazard-"

"Ann, don't be such a drag. Every time I-" It was then she became aware of Matt, and she whirled about showily. Is this what you were busily engaged with on the discussion of landscaping?" She tossed her head back and laughed aloud, the wide, well-defined mouth and flashing teeth accentuating her vital young animal look. "What a waste."

"This is Mr. Matt Hurder, our new gardener. Mr. Ostrakhan recommended him."

Tina, her hands on her hips, moved around Matt, brazenly surveying him from every angle. Her movements were a series of restless, sudden stops and starts that kept the twin darts of her breasts underneath the tight sweater in constant motion.

"And he's going to be living in our gardener's cottage! Well," she said with mock formality, extending her hand to Matt, "as they say, we'll be very glad to be making your acquaintance." With that, she spun on her heels and dashed out of the room, calling out, "Have one of the maids bring the hundred dollars down to me near the garages. Pete's there, tuning up his bike."

Mrs. Caldwell immediately assumed her formal, pretentious manner and said to Matt, "You can be prepared to move into the cottage whenever you wish. You won't require anything because it's completely furnished and has all of the linens, kitchen equipment, table service, that sort of thing, and-" she went on, but then cut herself off in mid-sentence. Her gaze was steadier now and her voice softened and more quiet. "Tina," she began to explain.

"There's nothing you have to explain to me," Matt said gently.

She placed her hand on his arm. "But I want to," she said. Then she went on to tell him of her pride in her youthful independence and the subordination of all her emotional interests to her theatrical ambitions. She enjoyed the company of men so long as they were fawning, attentive and assuring her of her loveliness. As long as no one was presumptive enough to draw her out from her own private self. "I married one time, but I regretted it. It was very brief. I thought he wanted too much-part of myself." Her voice was sardonic. "Tina is my child by that marriage. But through the years, except for short visits, she never stayed with me. I purchased this house in the hopes that she would choose to live with me, instead of with her father."