Chapter 2
As they relaxed by the side of the pool, sipping the cool drinks Paul had mixed, Cindy thought how much of herself she was giving to him. It worried her. Not that she was in love. No, it wasn't love, she would just be kidding herself if she thought she was in love. But what was it? What was the feeling she had for him? She sighed as she dried her long hair.
Whenever she thought of Paul, that little knot of fear was always there, in the pit of her stomach. But when they were together, especially when they were making love, she was not so afraid, until afterwards, when she felt so close and he seemed so far away.
Today it was worse. He had hardly said a word to her all afternoon. She wanted desperately to talk to him, but every time she tried, he just answered with a grunt. She wanted to cry.
Linda, one of Cindy's roommates, thought he was a little crazy. Well, maybe he was, maybe everyone was. Anyway, Linda was a little jealous. She liked Linda, but she didn't trust what she said about Paul.
Cindy glanced over at Paul as he lay stretched out on a towel by the side of the pool. She couldn't help but admire his powerful body, brown now after so many afternoons in the sun. So many afternoons...when they had lain here together. Her belly and thighs quivered with the memories of those times. But what was the use of daydreaming like this, she asked herself. Nothing but dreams. Perhaps she should go. Anyway, Katie would already be there, wondering where she was.
She thought for a minute about her 14-year-old cousin. She remembered her own fourteenth birthday, spent in a strange city, in a run-down rooming house, afraid to go outside lest the police find her and take her back to that hateful place, back to her parents' house. It wasn't her home, it hadn't been for as long as she could remember. And she would never go back; she had no reason to go back.
But there she was, dreaming again. Now she would have to hurry. She finished drying her hair and was about to put on her flimsy suit when she heard Paul's voice:
"Wait a minute, baby; not yet. Let me look at you," he said as he sat up.
She stood looking down at him, her legs open, the lips of her sex still wet from their love-making; she could feel his eyes as they wandered over her body. When he looked at her like this, her breasts would tingle and her nipples would harden, tight and pink. She wondered, suddenly, as Paul's eyes caressed her body, if Katie had ever had a man; no, probably not, she was really too young.
She stared into his dark, heavy-lidded eyes, eyes which seemed to melt her very insides; she knew she could not resist him, that in the end she would do almost anything he wanted, no matter how much it frightened her. She was his; in the end her fear and shame would melt beneath that gaze, leaving her naked. He seemed able to draw from her feelings that were buried deep inside, feelings not only of love and tenderness, but also those other, darker urges, hot and surging, threatening and evil. Ah yes, so hot...hot...and demanding. Let them come. She wanted to sink into them...hot...dark...wet. And yet for each new feeling he pulled from her, with his eyes or his hands or his sex or his passion or his indifference, for each of these feelings that were revealed, a dozen more seemed to spring forth, dark and exciting.
Her heart beat faster and faster. Now, here, standing naked before him, his eyes, dark and liquid, burned into her, melted her, drew her closer. Suddenly, her flanks quivering under his gaze, she wondered, for the first time, if he knew, really knew, what he did to her, what power he had over her, how, in the end, she had nothing she could call her own. Nothing...not even her own flesh belonged to her.
She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. She wanted to bend over and kiss him and comfort him. She wanted to feel his warm mouth around her nipples, biting them, while she breathed into his ear the hot obscenities coming from her wet, itching belly.
But she didn't. It was a trick; she was trying to trick herself into holding onto something...something certain. She wouldn't do it because there was nothing certain between them; and she would only be hurt by believing and acting as if there were. It would be the end.
Why was she even thinking about all this? Why was her head swimming with doubts? Why was she confusing herself with these thoughts? Why, when it was so delicious, standing here, her legs spread, Paul's hand now covering her silken mound. She could smell her own smell as it drifted up from between her legs, as it drifted up through the hot, still summer air. And even her own smell excited her, so why did she have to think about anything?
"You don't have to go yet, baby. Sit down and I'll mix another couple of drinks." Paul rose and quickly disappeared through the patio doors.
Coming back with the drinks, he stood for a moment and watched Cindy lying on her back by the pool. Yes, now he was certain...he would give her to Jenkins. But why? Was he growing tired of her, tired enough to be able to give her to another man? No, that wasn't it. Suddenly he realized that he wanted her to refuse. Her refusal, her unwillingness to give herself to him in this way...maybe...maybe it would put some distance between them, and then perhaps he could think more clearly about her. But there was still that nagging doubts-in some way, he also wanted her to say yes; wanted her, willingly, to prostitute herself. Well, he thought as he handed her the drink, he would have to go through with it, uncertain as he was...he couldn't think of what else to do.
"Do you remember that man we met last week at dinner? The fat man who kept looking at your breasts?" he asked. And he laughed as he saw the beginnings of a blush rise to her face.
Cindy laughed too as she brushed, self-consciously, at the hair falling in her face. Yes, she remembered him, huffing and puffing and sweating as he sat at their table, telling Paul about some deal. But all the while taking in her body, his eyes seldom leaving her breasts, quite prominent beneath the thin silk sheath. She wore a bra only to work, only, really, when she was around other women; the rest of the time she left her firm, thrusting breasts free, loving the feel of the different materials as they rubbed across her nipples. And this man, fat and sweaty and full of stupid business talk, had fucked her with his eyes. She laughed as she remembered how, when she was bored listening to him and mad at Paul for not telling him to leave, she had leaned forward on the table, exposing her full mounds almost to her nipples; or had leaned back in the chair, way back, pulling the silk so tight across her breasts as to leave no doubt that she was braless. She drove that fat businessman crazy; the more she leaned and stretched, the more he sweated, until he would have given anything to get one of his meaty hands inside her dress. Afterwards, when he had finally left, and she told Paul how she had felt and why she had done what she did, he just laughed and said that it didn't make any difference to him what she did. Besides, he had added, the guy had just wanted to look...that's how he got his kicks.
Now, as she listened to what Paul had to say, it appeared that this man wanted another look, only this time he wanted a better peek; and he would pay.
"Just for looking?" Cindy asked. She was surprised and a little annoyed. Was Paul really serious about this? If it was just the money, she would rather give it to him out of what she had saved. She really didn't see the point and she felt confused, but she was afraid to voice her confusion.
"Yeah, baby, just for looking. Anyhow, I'll be there just in case. All you have to do is lie on the bed and maybe wriggle around a little. Just like in the movies. He's coming by tonight if you say O.K. But...it doesn't really matter, if you don't want to I mean," Paul added, yawning.
"Sure, call him," she answered, trying to sound as if it didn't matter one way or another to her.
But it did and she didn't know why. She remembered a few weeks ago when Paul had given a party. They were all roaring drunk and having a good time when one of the men had wanted her to take off her clothes. Paul hadn't said anything, but then he was pretty drunk too. So, because it sounded like fun, she had done it, had stripped off her clothes, except for her skimpy panties. Then she had danced from man to man, rubbing up against them or putting her arms around them, only to dance away quickly before they had time to grab her, although one man had managed to pull her panties part way over her hips and she had let him run his hands up between her legs because it had felt so good. That had all been in fun; but this, this thing that Paul wanted her to do was different. She would do it, but she was sure she would be bored...or would she? There was another feeling too, welling up inside her, a feeling she couldn't identify.
As she left Paul's to walk back to her own apartment to meet Katie, she realized suddenly that she was walking faster and faster, until finally she was almost running and people were stopping to stare. But she was oblivious to them and was only conscious of her surroundings when at last she reached the door to her apartment. There she stopped and tried without much success to calm her heavy breathing. She tried hard to think of her young cousin and what she would say to her; but it was no use, the only thing in her mind was the picture of the fat businessman, panting and sweating as she bared her full young body for his greedy eyes. She shuddered, and then suddenly she realized that for some reason she was afraid. But why? She knew Paul too well to think he would let anything happen to her; so there was nothing to worry about, certainly nothing to be afraid of.
But why did Paul want her to do it? Calming herself, she entered the apartment, hoping Katie was there.
But she wasn't. In fact, Linda informed her with a sly smile, her cousin Katie had met a young boy and they had gone for a walk.
"He's a nice kid, so don't worry," Linda said, noticing the frown on her roommate's pretty face.
"No, I'm not worried about that," Cindy answered as she sat down in a chair.
She knew then why she had been so anxious to see Katie; Katie was so young and...innocent...innocent about men anyway; they could have talked about other things; it would have been so refreshing, not to have to talk about men. But now Katie would come back bursting with the news about the boy she had just met. Well, she smiled to herself, maybe that in itself would be refreshing.
While they waited for Katie to return, Cindy told Linda of Paul's request, trying hard to keep the nervousness out of her voice. As she listened, Linda walked around the room, the rough blue-denim shirt, which was all she wore, swishing around her slim hips and slipping away every now and then to reveal her white, curving bottom.
"I don't know," she said as she heard the end of Cindy's story, "it really sounds a little crazy to me, but I don't know...it might be fun...."
But Linda quickly changed the subject; and Cindy, relieved to talk about something else, told her about Katie, until, a couple of hours later, Katie herself walked in the door.