Chapter 2
The sting of his hot spend snapped her back to the lurid and brutal reality of his demeaning assault. Evelyn discovered herself kneeling in humiliating abasement, the skin of her knees rubbed raw against the hard floor. The events of the past leading up to the circumstance of her ordeal as hostage had unreeled during the brief period of his crude molestation. Matt pulled away from her now, and Evelyn, staggered by her revulsion at an act in which she had never engaged, remained momentarily immobilized, the cascade of his warm fluid staining her like molten wax. Estelle came up to her and extended a towel. When Evelyn hesitated, Estelle helped her to her feet and began to wipe her face, her neck, her breasts with the dampened terrycloth towel.
"Come on, doll," she said, not unkindly.
"That ain't gonna do you no bad at all. My old lady used to say that a little juice waters the roses in a woman's cheeks." Then she inquired gently, with undisguised amazement, "You never done that before with no man?" Evelyn shook her head.
"The first time I did," Estelle said, "it was some old cat hound who was drilling my ma, and he got to me when she was all washed up and deep in the hay. I was seven years old, and I thought my eyeballs was gonna pop out." Estelle laughed. "But whatever he done, he straightened me out so I never had no trouble with no man, ever since."
Matt remained naked from the waist down, now seated on a sofa facing a television set. He took a deep swallow from a pocket flask and showed no interest in the conversation of the two women. Evelyn resisted the urge to look his way, and Estelle, as if divining her thoughts, said, "He's a lot of man, that one, ain't he?"
"That's not a man," Evelyn said, deliberately raising her voice so that he would overhear her, "he's a sick animal."
Estelle countered with surprise. Matt reached out to switch a channel, as if he had not heard. His pointed unresponsiveness infuriated Evelyn. To use her was bad enough, but to fail to acknowledge her presence any more than that of some inanimate object, a chair, a table, was insufferable. If she could at that moment, she would have gladly driven a blade into his flesh and ground it into the wound to intensify the agony.
"You had no right to do that," she screamed at him, suddenly unable to control herself. "No right to take a woman and drag her down to your slimy, filthy level." Driven by her unvented frustration, she reached out to rake his face with her bared fingernails, but he caught both her hands in his one, and held her there before him, still wordless but now appraising the full length of her stripped figure, the deep-cleft ravine between her breasts, the slight fleshy undulation of her belly.
Impelled by blind anger, Evelyn had forgotten the state of her undress. She now made a frantic effort to gain her release. That same infuriating downward turn of his mouth was followed by a gesture not only of her release, but a forward thrust that sent her stumbling backward against the bedside table and overturning the lamp.
She saw Estelle drawing a slip and flimsy dress over her head and then bearing down upon him across the sofa where he had reassumed his former position. His hand upon her back signified his acceptance of her overture. Evelyn sank down upon the bed, her face in her hands, too weary, too sick to make the gesture that would clothe her nakedness. The sounds of Estelle's groaning passions assailed her ears, no matter how hard she tried to shut them out.
Matt's face faded and was replaced by that of her father, handsomely aquiline in his graying refinement. How attractive a man he had been, right up until the end when a sudden fatal heart attack had put an end to their idyllic existence: herself and her dad in the magnificent, manorial home they had furnished to suit their impeccable taste in each detail of every corner. Her mother had passed away many years before, and she was the attended-to queen of the roost, considered far too precious by her father for exposure to the manners, habits and attitudes of other children her own age. "I'm raising you to recognize the wonder of your own individuality, to grow to develop and realize your full potential as a person, not merely as a female." Her father's words came back to her from the past. How often he had repeated them, and insisted, "You are not to be raised for the boorish sexual service of some inept ape or to slavishly wear yourself into a drudge by raising a brood of demanding, suckling brats."
No wonder she had been content to isolate herself from the world in the stage-set existence of books and music and the cultivation of the more rarefied social graces. It was not until her father's death that the emptiness of the huge house prompted her to offer her services as a volunteer librarian at the local university, where she had made the acquaintance of Harry, the architect who had designed it and returned, often with clients to show them the structure. Whatever his intent was originally, he had learned quickly to "respect her as a person first, not simply a female."
How bitterly ironic, Evelyn thought. What a cruel conspirator was fate. One moment her life was moving along the course of its long preconceived design, and the next, with the sudden open thrust of a door, the orderly pattern exploded into a wild and meaningless disarray. If her father could see her now, Evelyn thought.
She was roused by a sharp slap across her bare buttocks, and she jolted to a sitting position, attempting to conceal her nudity with her hands. "Okay, Mother Superior," Matt said, "get your dress on. We're getting out of here." Evelyn was puzzled. They had been driving for many hours and had engaged the motel room, she assumed, to get a full night's sleep. But they had remained there less than three or four hours, and it was still the deep part of the night.
"Where are we going?" Evelyn asked Estelle, in a hushed aside. "What was the sense of the motel if we aren't going to sleep?"
Estelle looked at her blankly. None of this had occurred to her. The faculty of judgment had been one which she had surrendered entirely to Matt. She followed him unquestioningly. Now, as Matt started up the car and turned onto the highway, he answered Evelyn's questions, which he had overheard. He addressed her directly for the first time. "Everything that people do is supposed to follow some kind of a plan. One and one has always got to make two, don't you know? If the cops are after you, they've got to make sense of what you're up to so they can track you down. They live by shifts, they stay awake and sleep by shifts, give chase by shifts." His chuckle sounded ironic. "People love by shifts, study, learn, marry and die by shifts. It all has to follow a plan. If someone is nuts and they go to some psychiatrist, he's got to first figure out just what plan, what pattern his nuttiness follows before he thinks he can help him out. But it's a big laugh on all of them, because tha't not the way it works at all. It goes on like a bunch of marbles that scatter where they fall. Every damn thing you do makes a lie out of everything that ever happened to you before."
After this uncharacteristically long discourse he took refuge once again in his customary silence. His remarks were doubly disturbing for Evelyn, not only because of their unexpected depth but because he had seemed to touch upon the same ideas which had occupied her in the motel moments before. Estelle, sitting between them in the front seat, remained entirely oblivious to the talk. Evelyn was taken aback to discover that what now occupied Estelle was her fingered manipulations, even as he continued driving. She turned to look out of the window at the blur of passing foliage and maintained her interest there, but casual side glances disclosed that Estelle had freed his member from the confines of his trousers and was rubbing it continuously, with some lubricant on her palm which made it glisten in its rigidity like some oddly inanimate porcelain form. She was seized by a terrible inner fear.
"When are you going to release me?" she cried out. "You were only going to hold me with you till you left our town." It was a question she had formed on her lips many times before but, held back for fear that it would not only provoke him but would not hasten his release of her one way or the other. But the circumstance of this simple but perverse gesture, and his casual response as though nothing untoward were occurring, made Evelyn feel that she had stumbled, by her captivity, into another sphere of existence, where every action was beheld in distortion, as if through a madhouse mirror. She was suddenly terrified that if she did not gain her release the sanity of her own vision might not be restored.
For a long moment, Matt said nothing. He seemed fully absorbed in the purely physical actions of driving and the pleasure sensations which he now assisted by shifting undulations of his hips, counter movements to Estelle's stroking ministrations. But at last Matt responded to Evelyn's question. He asked, "Why do you want to go back there for, anyway? They only hate your guts.
Evelyn's eyes flashed in anger. "Just exactly what are you talking about? What would you know about a normal, decent kind of life, the problems of marriage and raising children?"
Matt's voice was almost condescending. "You know all about it, don't you? That's why that kid would like to shove a shiv up your virgin can." He added sarcastically, "It is virgin, isn't it?"
Estelle was still maintaining a hold on his sex but now was also involved in manipulating her own, her skirt drawn unselfconsciously up to her hips. The incongruity of the situation overwhelmed Evelyn and rendered her speechless. I must be utterly mad to engage in any conversation about my personal life with him, and while all this is going on right in front of me, she thought to herself. But Matt continued his monologue. "I can see you're too young to have a kid that age, so that must be his kid. I'm glad he didn't realize when he married you that he was setting up a convent. He looks like a pretty regular Joe."
Evelyn brought her hands up to her ears to shut out his words that struck at her like stones flung at her most vulnerable parts. Everything about his man was offensive to her in a way that was infuriating-the grossness of his animal responses, his taunting, intimidating expressions, his presumptive interjection into her personal affairs. The car rumbled on, and the shattering reverberations from the wheels on the uneven back roads soon drew her into a wearying torpor, and Evelyn fell asleep.
When she awakened, it seemed to be mid-morning from the position of the sun. They were parked somewhere in thick foliage alongside what appeared to be a small lake in a remote backwoods area. Evelyn saw Estelle sitting half outside the back seat, the door thrust open, while with a wet towel she was washing her legs and thighs.
Estelle turned at the sound of Evelyn's movements and broke into a smile which, for all of her excessively theatrical makeup, was guileless and childlike. "Did you sleep good, doll?"' She noted Evelyn's puzzlement at Matt's absence. "He's down at the lake taking a swim for himself," she volunteered. "See, there-" she said, pointing for Evelyn to look out the side. Evelyn chose not to obey the urge to look, and Estelle offered her the towel. "Want to wash up?"
Evelyn accepted the towel, removed her shoes and walked over to the lakeside to dampen it, in time to see Matt stepping out of the water, stark naked. She whirled away quickly, the color rising in her face. She removed herself to a vantage point behind thick brush and began to attend to herself. She saw Matt stretch himself out on the grass at the lake's edge, facing the flooding warmth of the morning sun. She wanted to remove her clothes and wash herself thoroughly, but her nudity in the presence of that man, despite the fact that he was not aware of her place in the foliage behind him, was too disturbing a prospect. She applied herself to do the job as best as she could by raising and rearranging her garments.
It was then that she heard the sound of frivolous laughter from off to the side and looked to see two young girls, apparently of Diane's age, in a rowboat. As they came into view, they spotted Matt, who made no move to conceal himself or change his position of flagrant exposure, his legs widespread in the direction of the lake. One of the girls wore a bikini bathing suit with a life vest around her shoulders. She was standing and urging the girl applying herself to the oars to move closer to Matt's position. When they were approximately twenty-five yards off the shore and looking brazenly at Matt's bared body, the girl in the bikini shouted at him to get his attention, "Hey, Tarzan! Hey, Tarzan! Me Jane!" And they both burst into a fit of laughter.
Matt, who had been sunbathing with his eyes closed and face upturned to the sun, now rose slowly to his feet, facing the girls.
The girl in the bikini called out, "Do you want to go swinging together, Tarzan?" and she reached down and teasingly began to lower the swim-trunk portion of her abbreviated bathing suit. Matt stood there, facing them, his hands on his hips, his legs widespread, offering no encouragement and making no effort to conceal himself or reject them. The girl in the bikini accepted his casualness as a challenge to carry her boldness even further, and she suddenly pulled her bikini bottom down to her knees and then stepped out of it entirely. Her girlfriend, completely overcome by fits of laughter, slid down into the boat and gave up all her attempts at working the oars.
Matt now took several steps in the direction of the water. Then he raised his hand and beckoned the girl who afforded this unencumbered view. As he leaned forward to dive, the lithe white female body struck the crystalline surface with a resounding splash. Two naked figures, swimming toward each other, inexorably closed the distance until the water surged in the clash of their meeting, and they did in fact disappear momentarily, returning to the surface in the spinning, tumbling choreograph of mating.
Then Matt was holding her, stroking powerfully for the shore, to come up finally, her body clinging to him. He struck the ground, the full weight of his body straining against her, even as he was enveloped deep within her vitals.
Evelyn suspended all thought. All seemed totally subjugated to the magnetic fascination with the visual, the wild contortions of flesh that followed its furies with the single-mindedness of a brush fire gone wild. Nor did Evelyn's eye lose sight of the boat drawing closer to shore with its single occupant now stepping out and wriggling out of her jeans to reveal a compact figure developed far beyond her years.
The girl beneath Matt released a piercing cry of anguish that seemed to carry clear across the lake. Now she was weeping, as Matt drew away from her, and clutching her legs together and rolling agonizingly from side to side. Matt rolled off her, lying back.
The second girl stood over him, and he reached out with his hands to draw her down to him. From behind them, Evelyn saw his body as some fierce bird of prey, assaulting to conquer yet another nesting place. Youthfully small-proportioned, she could not first accept him. Matt clasped her to him, but her incapacity kept him poised at the threshold of her consummation. When Matt flipped her over on her back and applied his knee to her thighs, spread-eagling her to widen the mark of acceptance, a horrified Evelyn burst from her vantage point of concealment and flung herself at him, beating him with her fists. "Stop! Stop it, you fiend! You'll tear her apart."
Matt flung her to his side with his arm, and when she continued to kick and pummel him transferred his knee from the girl's thigh to Evelyn's chest to subdue her. "Run," Evelyn yelled to the girl. "Pull away from him." But the girl, instead of making an attempt to bolt, grabbed him with her hand and tortuously skewered herself, grinding the full span of it into her straining body.
Helpless, her chest painfully constricted, Evelyn was forced to remain in that position, inches away from the scene of the supreme erotic engagement. How much Evelyn detested this girl, detested womankind for the sordid drive to sexual self-debasement at the hands of the rapacious man. Pinned beneath his leg, Evelyn imagined such femininity as a greedy mouth, over-engorged and straining to the bursting point but unwilling to expel its prodigious burden.
The girl plunged headlong into the fucking as one falling over a precipice. Her leg flexed out, striking Evelyn against the side of the temple, sending her senses reeling. The girl's legs clamped tightly as she searched with her writhing hips. Then the soft meat of her inner thighs found him and gave a sudden lurch to enclose him in the tender, wet, meaty trap.
Matt shoved heatedly at the hot center of the girl's shimmering passion. She returned the attack with her supple thighs, giving unmistakable evidence that her need was even greater than his. With rapid thrusts, she received the huge, hard cock, drawing it suckingly into her enveloping hollow. Her whole body wormed and lashed furiously. Her legs scissored around his waist as she grafted the moist texture of her cunt over his plunging cock, squirming her hips with the inner feel of the scorching heat of it, while at the same time making miraculous friction deep inside her vagina with the frantic inner grabs of her muscles.
"Ohhh, God, you're great! Fuck it to me! Harder, harder!" the girl screeched.
She bucked under his cock furiously, pumping, slamming her voracious cunt up and down, down and up, stuffing the thick meat in and out of her belly, milking on it, nursing tightly on it.
Then a thrusting, thunderous tremor hit through both their bodies. The girl screamed and rammed her cunt hard up and down on Matt's spurting prick. Her eyes were feverish as her body was jolted into her own orgasm. She moaned insanely and her ecstatic overflow somehow seemed to open some subterranean spring which poured forth with an amazing superfluidity. In the mental ache of her confusion, it struck Evelyn with a sense of awe and wonder at a state which she had never personally experienced.