Chapter 10
Driving home from work, Winslow Bass parked in the lot in front of his favorite bar. Each Friday he stopped for a few beers, relaxing and disengaging himself from the problems and details of a week's work. He liked the bar because it was usually near empty till after he had gone, and thus was quiet.
"Hello, Mr. Bass," Pete, the bartender, greeted him. "The usual?"
"Right," he smiled back, watching Pete fill his frosted glass from the tap, barely capping it with suds. "How'd the week treat you, Pete?"
"Can't complain," Pete shrugged, taking the offered change.
"Can be a lot worse," Winslow said, and turned toward his booth.
He was startled to see someone sitting there, but passed it off, sitting in the next booth, his back against theirs. The gaunt, dark eyed youth and the heavier man in his early thirties glanced at him without interest.
Taking a sip of his beer, Winslow unfolded his newspaper and separated the sports section. The men were talking behind him, their voices muffled slightly by the wooden seat back, but he was not interested.
"You know what I'd like, Billy?" asked the voice closest to him, receiving a mumble in response. "A piece of leg to stick it in."
"But we're splittin', John. Remember, you said we were goin' south so you could make another run in Mexico," the younger man said nervously.
"Yeah," John answered narrowly. "But right now we're right here, ain't we? And I want some ass.
"I don't know anybody, John."
"Remember that little thing on the beach? Um, I'd like some more of her. What was her name? Oh yeah, J-Jennifer," he laughed. "I-Jennifer and J-Jud. Sounds like a vaudeville act, don't it?"
The words were audible to Winslow, but he did not give them any conscious attention. But a moment after the mention of Jennifer and Jud's names, the words that had proceeded were recalled. He stiffened in his seat, his hands holding tightly to the newspaper.
"That's the nice thing about luckin' onto somethin' like that piece. Afraid mommy and daddy'll find out she's been out behind the barn, and afraid of what people'll think of her. Love them. Can shove it right down their throats, slam into them, whip 'em, make em grovel for you. You know, we let her off too easy; could o' had her kissin' my feet," he sneered.
Winslow had not moved, but the veins stood out on the backs of his hands and at his temples. His jaw muscles were in relief from the hard grip of his teeth.
"Think we could find her again, Billy boy? Maybe she's out there looking for us," John chuckled.
"Doesn't seem-likely," Billy murmured.
"Yeah. All the same, I'd like to really rip her up this time."
Winslow folded his newspaper and stood. He walked calmly toward the door without looking back at the two men. He had seen them once and they were the only other customers.
"See you next week, Pete. Just remembered something I should be doing," he said with a wave.
"Have a nice weekend, Mr. Bass."
"Thanks, Pete," he said as he went out the door.
Winslow stood looking at what had to be John and Billy's car, breathing in the cool night air. There was no doubt in his mind as to who they were. They were the ones who had taken a beautiful, alive young girl and turned her into a sad, empty-eyed sleep walker. They had raped Jennifer.
It did not seem possible that it should happen this way, that he would be able to avenge her as he had wished. Life just was not like that. Yet, it had happened. He put his jacket and newspaper on the front seat of his car and went around to the back. Unlocking the trunk, he took out a jack handle and shut it back.
How long would they be in there? Till other customers started arriving? Well, he would just have to wait.
He moved into the shadows between their car and Pete's parked next to it. He squatted down and leaned back against Pete's auto, his back to the bar. An occasional car went by on the street, but no one pulled in. Twenty minutes later he heard their voices at the door of the bar.
"We goin' to the border tomorrow, John?" Billy asked anxiously.
"You know, Billy, I ought to hold out your fix, that's what I ought to do."
"Huh? Why, John?" Bill asked with desperation.
"Then you'd go out and find me J-Jennifer," John laughed.
The laughter trailed off and both men halted as Winslow stood up to face them. They looked at him in confusion, noting the length of iron in his hand.
"What seems to be the problem, pal?" John asked.
"I'm going to collect a little of a debt you owe," Winslow answered, his tone cold and precise.
"Debt? Why, I've never even seen you before," John laughed nervously. "How 'bout you, Billy?"
"Huh? No. No, I never seen you before, mister," Billy stammered, frightened.
"So what kind of debt can we owe you?" John asked as if that dismissed matters.
"You don't owe me anything, you piece of shit. You owe a girl named Jennifer and a boy named Jud," Winslow replied, his eyes chilling in their calm resolution.
John and Billy froze. Billy swallowed hard, sweat suddenly bathing his palms and back. John blinked over and over.
"Listen, pal," John began, and then leapt at Winslow.
Winslow stepped back and the tire iron slammed into John's ribs. With a deep groan he stumbled back grimacing. Billy tried to turn, but Winslow pulled him around with his free hand. He started to pull back with the iron, but saw John pushing off the side of the car toward him. He jammed the end of the pipe into Billy's stomach.
Billy fell, doubled over in pain as John collided with Winslow. Desperate, he clawed at Winslow's hand, trying to loosen his grip. Winslow brought his knee up hard into John's crotch. His face tightening with agony, John held on and threw his weight into Winslow. They fell back against the bumper of Pete's car and the tire iron clattered on the asphalt.
Winslow felt relieved. He did not want to risk the gas chamber, he just wanted justice for Jennifer. His knee came up again, and a third time. John crumpled and fell.
Turning, Winslow grabbed Billy up by the shirt front, pulling his fist back.
"No, wait, mister," Billy pled. "You must know I didn't do nothing to her. She must of told you I didn't hurt or touch her, that I was too junked up to do anything even if I'd wanted to. And I didn't want to bother her or her boyfriend, man. I just wanted to sit up in the dunes and nod out, that's all. But John, he supplies me. If I go against him I'm without a fix. I couldn't help myself," he pleaded. "Please, mister. Please," he finished, crying.
Winslow looked down at the frail youth and believed him. He leaned him back against the car and picked up the tire iron.
"I'm going back inside to make a phone call. You'll have a few minutes before the cops have your names and descriptions, if you want to try to run, Winslow said. He looked down contemptuously at John. "If I was willing to get down on your level, you'd be begging me for the cops by morning. But there is that difference, thank god."
Winslow turned and walked back to his car, putting the tire iron away, and then started back toward the bar. He turned his head as John's car started.
"Let me go, John!" he heard Billy yell.
"No, you little junkie, I got plans for you and your big mouth," John yelled back.
The car's lights flashed on, momentarily blinding Winslow, and the auto raced forward. He moved back, shielding his eyes. It turned and bore down toward him. Winslow moved back and, at the last moment, leapt across the hood of his own car.
John jerked the wheel hard, the numbing pain in his groin keeping him doubled over the wheel. There was a police car pulling into the lot! The tires screamed and he hit the brakes, but the wheels were crossing the oil spills of parked cars. The wheels skidded to the side. John panicked, desperate to escape the police car, pulling desperately at the wheel. Before them was a bank of electric generators surrounded by a chain link fence. Billy screamed.
Winslow saw the car seem to slow, banking to the side, but the impetus flipped it, and the auto turned over to plunge into the generators. Electricity exploded in white showers around the auto, and then the current hit the gas tank. The explosion knocked Winslow back against his car, the flames and crackling power lighting the parking lot.
"You okay, Mister?"
Winslow turned to see a policeman standing beside him, his partner moving toward the burning car. Winslow nodded, confused and shaken.
"We saw them try to run you down and pulled in. What was it all about?"
"Huh?" he asked, clearing his head. "Oh, I heard them talking and told them I was phoning the police. One was a heroin pusher, and the other a junkie," Winslow answered in all honesty, omitting all mention of Jennifer and his beating of John and Billy. "Never thought anything like this would happen."
"Well, you shouldn't have told them what you were planning to do. But you're okay, huh?"
"Yeah," Winslow nodded.
"Can't say I'm sorry about the pusher. Live off despair, pain and fear, selling for money and power, not just to feed their own habits. Leeches sucking people's souls," the patrolman said, his eyes on the blaze.
Winslow glanced at the Negro patrolman, and wondered how close the person had been to him who someone like John had destroyed.
Jud held the tab of acid between thumb and forefinger, squinting one eye to examine it. grinning at his indecision. Gillian's eyes lifted to it.
"You know, no matter what I decide tonight, eventually I'll drop," he said.
"Curiosity's like that," Gillian smiled.
"But first I need to know a little more about life, about me. And I need to talk myself loose of Jennifer," he sighed, rewrapping the acid. "Sure hate to flush a buck seventy-five," he mused.
"Do you want to talk tonight? You're supposed to be out overnight, so we've got plenty of time."
"Yeah, but first..." he stood. Jennifer heard him climb the stairs and heard the toilet flush softly against the music. After a minute he returned. "Probably going to regret doing that."
"I'll give you a dollar seventy-five," she smiled. "No telling what kind of hallucinations the commode's having."
"You... you wouldn't mind listening?" he asked finally, very serious.
"No, of course not."
He nodded, thought for a few minutes and then recounted the night on the beach, Jennifer's reaction, her turning away from him, his sense of helplessness and loss, and all that Gillian's loving had given him to help in recovering.
"I'm glad that... that it's been good for you, too," she said, her eyes loving and caring upon his. "Do you feel any better now, for having told me?"
"Yeah. Yeah, released. Does it sound silly, me feeling so hurt, castrated by it all?" he asked hesitantly, biting the side of his mouth.
"No, darling. To see someone you love hurt and not be able to help or protect them and... and to have that person seem to blame you... well, that's a pretty heavy load for anybody."
"You don't think Jenny blames me?" he asked.
"It's, possible, but more-likely she's just afraid of men now.
He thought about that and finally nodded. Gillian smiled and touched her lips to his. Their eyes met.
"Would it bother you if I told you... that I love you, Gill?" he asked.
"No. I love you, too, Jud. I mean it's not live-together happily-ever-after... but it's love.
Their lips brushed again and his arms went around her, feeling her flesh through the fine knit of the blouse. She pulled his shirt free of his pants and caressed his stomach. His fingers climbed down the buttons along her back and the blouse fell from her shoulders, his hands gliding over the supple firmness of her back, then up to remove the blouse. Her fingers freed his shirt and her breasts glided over his stomach and chest.
His tongue burrowing into her mouth, Jud unbuttoned and unzipped her pants, peeling them down over her hips. He stood and slipped them from, her, leaving her nude on the couch. His eyes took in the beauty of her face with its auburn frame, her delectable breasts, the tight curve of her belly, the auburn nest at the juncture of her thighs, and the long legs. He smiled and lifted her into his arms.
"So beautiful," he smiled.
Her arms draped over his shoulders, Gillian kissed him, feeling his strong arms holding her body to him, feeling him carry her toward the stairs and up to the bedroom above.
"One good thing about buying the acid," Jud said as he pushed the bedroom door open with his foot.
"What's that," Gillian asked as he laid her upon the bed.
"We got the whole night together this time," he smiled, removing his shoes and pants.
"Yeah, that's a trip," and they both laughed.
He leaned over her, his mouth savoring her, his hands gliding down her body. He raised up and smiled down at her.
"It's gonna be," he assured her, and covered her body with his.
Winslow phoned Debra to tell her that he would be late, and then went down to the police station to give his statement, briefly answering the reporters that clustered around him when he left. The drive home seemed long, too long.
Debra had a drink ready for him when he arrived as well as dinner, but he was not hungry. She sat patiently silent as he nursed his drink, staring at the wall before him, trying to shake off the shock of the evening. At last, he looked up at her for a moment. weighing his words, and then told her everything from watching Jennifer to the deaths of John and Billy.
"Well?" he asked.
"I'm sorry, darling. What do you want me to say?" she asked gently, sitting on the arm of his chair.
"You're not upset about me watching Jennifer from the window?" he asked.
"She's a beautiful girl. You didn't ever try anything with her, did you?" she asked calmly.
"No. No, of course not," he assured her, surprised at the suggestion.
"Then why should I be upset? You're a good husband, a great lay, and you're all mine. I should complain because you appreciate beautiful women and live with me, are faithful to me and give me the benefits of your getting horny over them?" she laughed. "No, sweetheart, I love you," and she hugged him.
"You think I should've said anything more to the cops?" he asked, relieved.
"All it would've done would've been to involve Jennifer. Otherwise, you told the truth, and they killed themselves trying to kill you. Maybe you shouldn't have beat them up, but... I can't imagine anyone blaming you. Especially me," she assured him.
He looked up into her face, fully appreciating her, and eased her down into his lap. Their lips met and he held her lovingly to him, needing no one else to arouse him.
CHAPTER LL
The Saturday morning sunlight crept into the boat house till it filled it with brightness and deep, contrasting shadows. It slid patterns across the two blanket covered figures cuddled together against the remnants of night chill, spilling from the window above them to lay a plane of brightness across Deena's face. Her eyes flickered briefly, tightening to deny consciousness only to open as she turned her face away from it.
Deena brushed her hair away from her face and sat up, stretching gradually to release the stiffness of sleep, her arms curling upward as her head rolled languidly. The light showed dark blue highlights in the ebony fall of her hair, outlining the contours of her body, her breasts casting shadows to one side, her nipples a rust color. She gradually let her arms drop and took two handfuls of hair from either side of her face to draw them down between the firm orbs of her breasts. She glanced down at Jennifer's face buried in the pillow, her upper lip pulled out against the case, her sunlit hair a golden mist swirling around her child-like countenance.
Sliding out from under the sheets so as not to wake Jennifer, Deena walked to the glass door and looked at the light dancing on the water. She smiled and slid the door open, feeling her flesh warm under the sun. She cupped her breasts and then slid her hands down her body to either side of the jet plume, flexing her thigh muscles. Then she dove into the water, feeling the chill sweep down her body as she plummeted amongst foam and bubbles, her body coming awake as she arched up to break the surface in a gleeful spray, her hair swinging hack. She floated, casting a yellow cloud of relief into the blue that created a swirl of green before it was one with the ocean. She swam hack and forth for ten minutes and then pulled herself up onto the porch, standing till the sun had dried her body, tightening her flesh with goose bumps, her nipples tight and hard.
She stepped though the door and saw Jennifer smile up at her drowsily. She toweled her hair, putting a fire on under the coffee, and then sat on the edge of the bed to brush her hair out.
"Didn't wake you, did I?" she asked.
"No," Jennifer shook her head.
They turned their heads at a knock at the door.
"It's me," came Zap's voice.
"Come on in," Deena smiled, standing to save the coffee from boiling over.
"Morning, ladies," Zap smiled. He wore a pair of chinos and carried a rolled up newspaper which he handed to Jennifer, his eyes smiling into hers, his peripheral vision noting the luxuriant softness of her shoulders and arms above the sheet and blanket that covered her body.
"Coffee?" Deena asked, with no self-consciousness over her nudity.
"Yeah, ought to be cool by the time I'm back," he said as he went through the glass doors. Out of Jennifer's line of vision, he pulled his pants off. He turned and grinned at Deena, his prick still rigid from sleep, and dove into the water.
Deena poured three cups of coffee, handed one to Jennifer, and lit a cigarette. She sat on the edge of the bed again, sipping at the coffee as Jennifer opened the paper.
"Anything heartening and cheerful in the news?" Deena asked. When Jennifer did not answer, she turned her head to see a stunned expression on the other girl's features. "Hey what's wrong?"
"The men... those two who... they," and she turned the front page for Deena to see.
Under the headline "Heroin Pushers Die Ablaze" were two photographs, obviously culled from police records, of John and Billy. Beside them was a larger photo of their burning car. Deena slid the paper from Jennifer's limp fingers to read the story:
"John Ivy, previously convicted of smuggling heroin and under police surveillance, died last night with addict James "Billy" Battson when their auto crashed into an electric power generator outside Pete's Bar None. Patrolman Issac Allison reported that he and his partner Patrolman Shelby Pickens saw the auto attempt to run down Winslow Bass, an engineer who had just left the club, in the parking lot. Patrolman Allison surmised that, upon seeing the patrol car, the driver, Ivy, lost control of the vehicle. All efforts were
Deena said, "Wow, that's heavy."
"The man in the parking lot... what was his name?" Jennifer asked, confused.
"Um, Winslow Bass," Deena said, finding the name. "Why? You know him?"
"He lives next door to my parents," Jennifer said, her forehead lined.
"That's weird. Strange coincidence," she nodded, dropping the paper onto the bed.
"Yeah. I guess," Jennifer nodded. Could it be simply a matter of coincidence? She had never even talked with the man other than to say good morning.
"How do you feel about it?" Deena asked.
"I'm not sure. Relieved in a way. I don't have to be afraid of them finding me again, of seeing them on the street. But... it seems such a waste," she said with a trace of sadness.
"Apparently their whole lives were wasted, that one trying to lay other people's to waste," Deena observed.
"Yes. I'm not sorry about... John, because at least he won't be... hurting anybody else like... me or Jud... or Billy. Poor Billy," she shook her head.
They looked up as Zap came back in, his hair hanging wet, his slacks clinging damply to reveal the impression of his now slack prod and the flatness of his ass and stomach. As he got his coffee, Jennifer held the covers to her breast, reaching out for her robe. She dropped the purple cloth over her head and arms. Raising the sheet, she stood, letting the soft draping drop down over her body to her feet. Picking up her coffee cup, she wandered out on the porch past Zap who sat beside Deena to flip the paper over.
"Well, a little justice in the world," he noted, looking at the headline.
"Deena glanced at him in surprise and then realized that he was referring to Johns heroin business rather than to his rape of Jennifer.
"I've got to go to the store for some cigarettes. Either of you need anything?" she asked.
Neither wanting anything, Deena pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, and drove off. Finishing the comics, Zap stood to refill his cup and bumped into Jennifer as she came back in. They stumbled and he caught her. She smiled for a split second and then realized she was in his arms, feeling his bare arms against hers, the wide sleeves of the robe pushed back, smelling the sea on his bare chest, his thighs against her side, and she froze. She wanted to pull away and her eyes went to his, and held a moment. The ocean slapped against the house boat and a seagull cawed in the sky, the alarm clock ticking loudly in the silence.
With a friendly smile, he stood her up and went to the stove. She looked at his strong back, wanting to thank him but feeling her throat tighten. His hold had been so sure and firm, yet gentle. She felt a tremor of desire mix with her fear. The rapists are dead, she told herself. He's not like them, but.. . .
"It's nice to see Deena so happy," Jennifer said, sitting on one of the stools next to the serving counter. "I'm glad you're here," she added, finding this the only way to voice her thanks, her own pleasure at his presence.
"Yeah, Deena's a beautiful lady," Zap nodded. "When we met it was, you know, an iffy thing, a lotta doubts. But I figured we might have a nice week, anyway." He smiled. "Turned out longer and better though. She knows how to get back up. Born with it, I guess," he said, sipping his coffee. "I think she digs her parents more now. Maybe not as parents but as people 'cause she realized they'd had somethin' to do with developin' that strength. Being able to realize if life knocks you down into the gutter, and even if it puts its foot on your neck to keep you there... well, you gotta get up. Else you might as well be dead, cause you got no hope, no dreams. And you can't get up just to hit back, doin' the same number on somebody else's head. You gotta get up and get back to business, digging life and doin' the same number on somebody else's head." He smiled sheepishly and glanced over at Jennifer. "All I need's a cracker barrel, I sound so wise," he kidded himself.
"No," Jennifer said, thinking about what he had said. "No, you're right."
Zap looked to her but her eyes were adrift in thought as she related his words to herself, to her own problems. The bright sunlight streaming through the door silhouetted her in a suggestion of glowing tones. Her back shifted under the purple jersey, and the highlights were like the sky seen through trails of vaporous clouds, the shadowed areas the sky at dusk. Her hair was a drift of gold with a perambula of platinum. He sipped at his coffee.
Gillian came slowly awake at noon. She smiled at Jud's sleeping tangle of legs and bedding, glad to awaken next to a man again after so long. She showered and' went down to fix breakfast, waking him with soft kisses when she returned.
"Breakfast in bed?" he murmured with a sleepy smile. "Gonna spoil me."
"You spoil me, lover, I spoil you," she grinned, setting the tray over his waist as he sat up.
"What time is it?" he asked, biting into the golden crust of a piece of toast.
"About twelve-thirty," she answered, stretching herself out beside him, cupping her chin in her palms, her rump rising from the small of her back temptingly.
"Supposed to be home by one-thirty to help my dad with his car," he sourly noted.
"That's a whole hour," she grinned.
"Um," he nodded, sliding a forkful of egg into his mouth, savoring the flavor with an exaggerated expression as he looked at the, tumble of auburn above the lightly freckled orbs of her breasts, the sweet rise of her ass, and the long legs.
Jud set the tray on the floor and lowered his face to hers. Their lips crushed together, shifting and writhing as their tongues flowed, and she dropped her hands from beneath her chin to reach out and stroke his sides. Jud pushed down even with her and she rolled onto her side, her body facing him. Her breasts pressed outward as his chest met hers, his hands scooping up her nether cheeks greedily, his hard cock pressing at her underbelly.
Gillian's tongue spilled from between Jud's lips, a dagger of pink satin that stroked his cheek and danced at his ear, spiraling down to fill his brain with thunder, his back muscles writhing at the flare of her thrashing. He found his own mouth at her throat and nipped at the flesh, finding the hollow between the mound of the raised jugular and the press of her shoulder muscle, delving down with his tongue to feel her breath drawn in from his ear, her teeth closing sensuously on the lobe. He consumed one dome of flesh in his hand, feeling the hard press of her nipple against the soft center of his palm. His other hand dropped down the curvette of her belly to cleave the humid valley between her thighs, feeling the warm rinse of her pourings as he slid his fingers up to cup the node of her clit and juggle it upon his fingertips.
Gillian felt the soothing veil of pleasure cloud her vision. She pressed the tip of her tongue to her upper lip as her mouth opened with the drifting warmth. Her fingers pressed into the firm muscles of his back, and the cradle of her pelvis arched up to the flexing of his fingers as a fragile gasp pursed her lips with a mellow smile. Her hands slid down his back on the edges of their nails, sweeping around to clasp the trunk of his prod greedily. She linked her fingers around the hardness, pressing as hard as she could to slide the sleeve of flesh up from the thick hairs at the base to the light purple bolt of the head.
Feeling his stomach muscles tighten as Gillian hoisted and thrust at his manhood, embers glowed within his loins, fanned by her gliding hold and the tongue that was once more hovering within his ear. He moved his head downward to straddle her nipple with his lips, nibbling at it as his fingers delved within her moist chamber, buttering themselves in her passion. He sucked in the nipple and aureole, and as much of her breast as his ravenous mouth could consume, vacillating the pressure of his teeth in slow, evocative bites.
Gillian reeled with the lapping joy, and pulled his hand from her nook, driving his hard masthead up into her dilated lodging. They groaned together as his prod rode up into her to brush against her cervix, the head flattening around its lips. He seemed to expand within the confines, swelling as he glided out and then pressed back in. His fingers, sticky with her essence, cupped her free breast as his mouth continued to wash the other. Breathing heavily, he lifted his hips to swing down and up, touch the softness at the end, and pull back out along the shimmering pearl. She strained up against him as the veil of pleasure became an engulfing surge, lancing static electricity through her to sear her nerve endings.
Jud pulled his face back, setting the globe of her breast free with a kiss as it slid loose from the pinion of his teeth. He braced himself and began to swirl himself in the forge of her lap, feeling his flesh melt, glazed with the burning syrup. In and out, faster and faster, engaging and disengaging, undulating and gyrating, probing and retreating, all the while trembling, Jud felt his mind teeter with the consumptive inferno that began to break through resistance. She was moaning beneath him and he smiled at the ecstasy that whipped her face from side to side, that tightened his own eyes. Suddenly her quim was inundated with his flooding escape from maddening intensity, pumping into her.
Coming away, his eyes dim slits, he saw her brow-line and her teeth bite into her lip, caught on the edge. Breathing deeply, he picked up his movement, faster and faster to race the softening of his flesh, to pull her across to join him. Gillian smiled, the lines in her forehead disappearing as she realized what he was doing, feeling the hardness leaving him even as he raced up and down across her clit. It tremored beneath the wilting flesh; and then his fingers were within her as he dropped from her. His mouth blanketed hers, his tongue flailing in time with his fingers, her mouth and nether lips joined by the probing explosions. And her blood began to rush, her tongue whipping back at his, her loins grinding against his fingers as the culmination swirled and impaled her.
He gradually disengaged himself, smiling down at her gasping face and she pulled him back to kiss him deeply. Then they both laid back, afloat in the crystalline smoldering.
After Jud had kissed her and departed, Gillian lay in bed thinking about their conversation the night before. His agony over Jennifer's rape was a squirming pain within him, and she wanted to be able to remove it, to make him completely happy within the limitations of their relationship. Yet, was that within those limitations? She wanted to tell Jennifer, so that she could let him know that it was not him that she was afraid of, not him that she feared. Surely, the girl would want to, she thought. But it would be foolish to speak to her, to involve herself intimately with a second student. Of course, it had been foolish to become involved with Jud, to allow herself to be faced with this decision.
She sat up and stared at the telephone. She should mind her own business. Jud would get over the pain. Her hand touched the receiver. She was his lover, his teacher, but not his guardian. Her fingers closed around the plastic and raised it from the cradle. With a sigh of resignation at her own mind, she flipped through the phone book till she found Jennifer's number. On the third ring there was an answer.
"Yes?"
"I, uh... could I speak to Jennifer Dallas, please," she asked.
"This is she," Jennifer said, having just returned from the house boat.
"This is Miss Bastrop, Jennifer."
"Yes, Miss Bastrop, what can I do for you?" Jennifer asked with surprise.
"I... I was just grading the test you handed in Friday and I'd like to speak to you about some of the answers. I wouldn't bother you at home except that we're so near finals."
"Oh. Well, yes. Would you like me to come by your place?"
"If you could. Whenever it could be convenient for you.
"I need to change clothes first. Half an hour?" Jennifer asked timidly.
"Fine. See you then," Gillian replied and hung up.
Jennifer stared at the phone for a moment, wondering if she had done badly. She went into her room and undressed, putting on a pleated skirt and black blouse that contrasted well with her hair. Her father gave her the keys to his car with a smile, happy to be hack with his family.
Jennifer opened the front door and paused, seeing Winslow Bass taking in his garbage cans. Their eyes linked momentarily, each wondering what the other knew. And both knew at that moment, though they could never discuss it, that the other knew it was no mere coincidence that linked them.
Winslow continued up his driveway and Jennifer moved down the sidewalk.
Showering, Gillian wished that she had not made the phone call, for how was she to word what she wanted to say to Jennifer. It would be so awkward, but... she did want to help. Burnishing her body pink with a towel, she slid a pair of apricot panties up her legs, the tiny bit of lace just covering her auburn mound, and put on a matching bra that hooked between her breasts. Over this she put a simple tan dress that buttoned up the front, and belted around the waist.
To use the remaining time before the girl's arrival, she took the breakfast tray down to the kitchen and washed the dishes. Shortly after she was finished, the doorbell rang.
"Hello, Miss Bastrop," Jennifer smiled nervously as Gillian opened the door.
"Good to see you, Jenny. Step inside," she smiled as the girl passed by her, a little shorter than she was. She watched the girl's back for a moment, and then closed the door, bracing herself.
"Did I do badly on the test?" Jennifer asked, sitting on the couch.
"No. No, actually you did very well," Gillian said, sitting down next to her.
"Oh? I don't understand then?" Jennifer said, confused.
"It's... it's about something that may not be any of my business, Jenny. And yet it is. It's about Jud," she said quickly, her eyes gauging Jennifer's reaction.
"Jud?" Jennifer asked nervously. What did this woman know? And how?
"To say what I'm going to say, I'm going to have to trust you, Jennifer. Trust you very much. You see, Jud and I've been... lovers for the last few weeks."
Jennifer nodded uncertainly, trying to comprehend. "It's not a big romance or anything. But we both needed someone. But I have become very close to him, and feel concern for his happiness. That's why... why I'd like to explain some things he told me," she said, and proceeded to repeat Jud's conversation to her. "Do you see my purpose, Jenny? I'm not trying to tell you what to do or anything. I just thought that if you knew how he felt, you might want to let him know your feelings. I'm sure this silence between you two has pain for you as well."
"Yes. Yes, it has," Jennifer nodded, her voice cracking, and tears suddenly spilled from her eyes as she began to cry.
Gillian reached out to her consolingly, but pulled in as Jennifer's head bowed, her shoulders trembling with her weeping.
"I still love him, Miss Bastrop," Jennifer's voice shook. "But I couldn't... couldn't bear the thought of his touching me. It made me afraid, afraid of being touched by a man. Can you understand that, how terrible it is? I've only been able to love another girl. I... she looked up, frightened, eyes wide as she bit into her lip. "Oh, I shouldn't've... I didn't mean to say..."
"It's all right, Jennifer. I understand," Gillian assured her.
"No. No, you're just saying that. It's 'all right for you to sleep with Jud. I mean they might fire you or something, but... sleeping with another girl
is something else. Your whole world looks down its superior nose on some things. Rape is a big joke but two women or two men even if they love each other... well, that's terrible," she said angrily.
"Jennifer, I..."Gillian protested.
"You want to squirm, don't you?" she cut off. "You want to throw up at the idea of a woman kissing you!"
"No, Jenny, it doesn't matter to..."
"Oh?" Jennifer said sarcastically, taking Gillian's face in her hands to kiss her, pressing her tongue into the other woman's mouth.
Gillian was startled by the girl's reaction, but not repulsed, only saddened at her desperation. The kiss was rough in its quest to prove her a liar, hut the lips and tongue were soft, Gillian thought. So soft and delicate, and she realized that Jennifer's kiss was altering into something else. She felt the girl's hand move up the front of her dress, releasing the buttons, and her dress opened down to her waist. The tapered length of the fingers drifted over her stomach, tender plows that blossomed a flower of warmth in her thighs and between her shoulders.
"Still feel all clean?" Jennifer asked, pulling her face back, her fingers tracing the lace of Gillian's braed breasts. Her tone was less certain, less vindictive. She caught herself and pressed her mouth to Gillian's again, her fingers opening the bra.
Gillian felt arousal, not distaste, and felt her own tongue playing back to the drum of Jennifer's. She did not have any desire to make love to another. woman, but she knew herself to be growing warm at the soft embrace, the soft lips and tongue, the soft fingers searing her breasts with weaving strokes.
Jennifer slid her lips free of Gillian's and dropped them to the full breast she held, taking one of the tan nipples into her mouth. And then she began to cry, falling away from the other woman.
"I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... I just wanted to, to hurt somebody back. Really," she cried.
"I know, Jen," Gillian said, taking her into her arms and pressing her weeping face against the support of her shoulder. "It's all right. It doesn't matter."
"I was so afraid," Jennifer admitted.
"Everybody is at one time or another. And it doesn't matter what I or anybody else thinks."
Gillian felt Jennifer's breasts press through her bra and blouse against her own naked globes. How soft, she thought. What does that young body look like beneath the clothing, are those legs as finely contoured under the skirt as below? Oh, Jenny, she thought. Why did you have to get this started?
"And I can't go back to him. It would never be the same after all that's happened, even with us loving one another," Jennifer said.
"Nothing's ever the same, Jenny. But if you do still love him, you should at least talk with him."
"I'm afraid of hurting him, and yet I'm hurting him more this way. It's so hard," she sighed with fatigue.
"Yess, Jenny. Very hard," Gillian sympathized, stroking the hair that fell next to her face.
Jennifer straightened, and her eyes took Gillian in. "Miss Bastrop... you're very beautiful. I never realized," she stammered.
Students aren't supposed to notice their teachers that way," Gillian smiled.
"Jud noticed," Jennifer smiled weakly, wiping the tears from her face.
"Teachers aren't supposed to notice their students either. We both broke the rules, I guess," she smiled.
"It sure is easy sometimes," Jennifer said.
"Yes, like right now... well, it didn't feel bad, your kissing me," Gillian shrugged, glancing down.
"I'm glad. It was a stupid thing to do. But I... I liked it, too."
Gillian looked up and they sat there for several minutes looking into one another's eyes and farther back, into the expression. Slowly, Jennifer leaned forward. Their faces an inch apart, both could feel the warm flutter of the other's breath, their eyes still joined. Then Gillian's eyes closed and her lips parted slightly. Jennifer's mouth crushed delicately to Gillian's and their kiss began again, but soft and tender, unrushed this time, able to grow and evolve till their tongues sauntered and lingered together, tapering and stroking.
Jennifer's fingers found the plump cup of flesh again and her fingers inscribed ellipses of pleasure upon it, spiraling in to knead the nipple. Gillian's own fingers wove themselves in the waves of sunshine about Jennifer's face; and then one hand worked down against the swell of the pert derriere beneath the skirt, grazing the resilience. Jennifer undid the remaining buttons of Gillian's dress and the belt, peeling the tan cloth from her shoulders and down her arms. She touched and held the twin domes and swam her tongue into Gillian's mouth more rapidly. She felt Gillian's fingers at her blouse, and the black husk dropped away, followed by the matching bra. They embraced and their breasts flattened together, rolling one to the other, their nipples burrowing into the soft flesh.
Gillian pulled one hand to the zipper of Jennifer's skirt, complaining to herself of her foolhardiness. The zipper went down and she felt nylon covered warmth. Their fingers drifted and skimmed, and the clothing sank to the floor. Gillian's mouth lowered and she tasted the tender, mushroom of Jennifer's nipple, and the fingers that infiltrated the auburn cleft touched at her like a breeze, and she found her fingers answering upon Jennifer's pleasure pearl. Their mouths blended and their bodies quivered together as they ignited, their mouths opening in a joint sigh. The plummet was upon buffeting winds that let them float gradually down into bliss.
After several minutes, Gillian turned her face to find Jennifer asleep. She smiled, kissing her lightly, and stood, disengaging their limbs. Well, she thought, it didn't interest her past this one time, but it had been a very pleasant experience.