Chapter 3
Fern Humphrey had been a schoolteacher.
She had also been a spinster. She had also been a member in good standing in the Library Association, a board member on the Commission to Improve Our Neighborhoods, an associate advisor to the League for Civic Decency, and a member of the Ladies Athletic Union. These things, dull as they were, had represented the sum total of her life now. They had stood for all that she was and all that she wanted to be. These things had been built up carefully over a period of thirty-two years, until they described the kind of woman Fern Humphrey was to perfection.
Now, they were all gone. All the comfortable, uncomplicated bits and pieces that comprised her daily living had been swept away. She was no longer a schoolteacher or a spinster, or a member of any city organization. In fact, she wasn't even a normal human being any longer. She was a creature of the night, now; an inhabitant of a half world she had never known existed before this. She had sold her life and all that she had worked to achieve, and had burned all her bridges behind her, in order to join a new organization-or perhaps sisterhood would be a better word.
Now, you could sum Fern Humphrey up in a single word.
She was a Lesbian.
As she drove along the gray, featureless highway, she tried to think calmly of what her life would be from now on. Where would she go? What would she do? All her life had been spent in a small town, playing the game of normality and never knowing the secret which lurked in her brain. How would she handle this new way of life?
She thought again of Benny-her first lover. She remembered the night when Benny had first taken her, the night when Fern had found out what she was. She remembered the horror which had come at first, and then she remembered the pleasure; the all-consuming pleasure that had driven everything from her mind. Benny had done it. Benny had been responsible for killing the old Fern Humphrey. Benny had conceived and delivered the new Fern Humphrey.
Benny, of course, was a woman. She had been a member of the Ladies' Athletic Union and one of the top athletes in the town. It was a standing joke, in fact, that you could set your watches by Benny's morning workouts more surely than by the passing of the 8:30 train. Every morning, without fail, Benny could be seen trotting down the tracks; her lithe, solid body touching the ground only at every third tie, her short, mousy hair bobbing around her face, her thin features set in an expression of determination.
Benny was a town character. Everybody laughed at her and made jokes about her behind her back. But nobody ever suspected just what Benny was.
It took Fern to find that out.
Perhaps, Fern thought, things would have been different if she had known about love. But only one man had ever broken through her defenses and shown her what love was. She knew about the union between male and female, of course, but she had never guessed that there was pleasure in it.
Men disgusted her. Men had always disgusted her. Ever since she was a child, ever since that ghastly time with the man in the car behind the school who had offered her candy and had driven her out into the woods and had....
She shook the memory away. That afternoon had been one of the most horrible times of her life. She would not, could not, ever forget that man. The way he smelled, the way he felt, the way he tasted-the things he tried to force her to do-the things he did to her.
She had been nine when that happened. She had hated men ever since.
She remembered the young men in high school and college who had tried to date her, and shuddered. She knew what they were really like. No matter how clean and handsome and considerate they seemed on the surface, she knew that underneath their carefully constructed exteriors, they were the man in the car. They were all the man in the car. They wanted only what he wanted, and they would do anything to get it. All men thought alike. All men wanted the same things. All men were ugly and brutal and hairy and smelly and hard....
In high school they had called her "The Iron Virgin."
In college, they had called her "Frigid Fern."
She didn't care. She knew what they wanted, and she knew that no man would ever have that from her again.
So she spent her life in organizations and clubs and unions, and she pursued her vocation of teaching young people the ways of the world as she knew them. Of course, she could never tell them what she really knew, never explain fully what the world was really like. But she tried to slip into her class room speeches a few small hints of the dark horror waiting for them.
She hated the little boys in her class and she left it show occasionally. She favored the little girls in every possible way, and liked to take them aside once in a while and try to explain things to them. She had gotten in trouble more than once over this, but never very seriously. After all, she told her critics, a girl must learn early to protect herself from the brutality of men. This was information necessary to every girl who was to reach adulthood with a whole skin. And when the critics asked her why she always accompanied these little after-school lectures with certain, rather intimate caresses, Fern had honestly not been able to understand what they meant.
She knew now, of course. Benny had showed her all about that.
She thought again of Benny, and the night it had happened.
Looking back on the chain of events, it seemed inevitable, but at the time nothing could have been farther from her mind. She had stayed late at the Ladies' Athletic Union meeting, because of a strange aching in her legs.
This was something which came to Fern about three times a month, and she was quite used to it by now. It had never occurred to her to wonder what the cause of it was. She tended to think of the ache as something connected with her monthly trouble, and tried to ignore it. The best way she had found to get her mind off the aching, was exercise.
So Fern had lingered behind in the gym long after all the other ladies had gone home for the night. She had exercised with a basketball for a while, then had switched to the parallel bars. She worked out as strenuously as she could, and gradually the aching had receeded.
Fern had taken a dip in the pool then; and, since there was no one present but her, she had not bothered wearing a bathing suit. She had floated on her back and slowly paddled from one end of the pool to the other, letting the tensions of her body flow away under the cool caress of the water.
Finally, she had climbed out of the pool and had gone into the locker room.
That was where she found Benny.
Benny was also nude, and standing in front of a mirror, drying her body with a towel. She glanced up and saw Fern's reflection in the mirror.
"Well, hi," she said, turning around. The towel hung from her hand; she made no attempt to cover herself.
Fern's eyes had been drawn to Benny's solid body almost despite herself. The woman had a leaness and hardness about her that was fascinating. Her breasts were compact and solid, with small nipples. There was a faint indentation of muscle beginning between her breasts, and sweeping down to her navel, which was set in a flat, tight-looking waist. Then, the line continued downward until it was lost. Her legs were straight and smooth, like those of a young boy.
Fern looked up into Benny's eyes and saw that the woman was examining Fern in the same way. For a moment, Fern had a tremendous desire to cover herself, but this passed when she saw the expression on Benny's face.
"Say, Fern," Benny said approvingly. "I never knew you kept yourself in such good shape. You must work out quite a bit to make your body so solid."
Benny's words were pleasing; without realizing it, Fern dropped her hands to her sides and posed fox the woman's admiration.
Benny glanced into Fern's face suddenly, an odd expression in her eyes. "I'll bet you're pretty tired out after all that exercise. I'll bet you're pretty sore."
Fern nodded. "I sure am. I feel as if I've been put through the wringer. I'm just going to take a shower and go home."
Benny put up a hand. "Whoa," she said. "Yon better not go to sleep without doing something about those muscles first, or you'll wake up tomorrow in knots. Take it from me; I know."
Fern shrugged. "What, for instance?"
"An alcohol rub," Benny said. "There's nothing like it after a good workout."
Fern thought it over for a moment. Yes, she thought, that did sound appealing. "Will you give me a rubdown?" she asked.
"With pleasure," Benny replied, her eyes bright, Benny had led Fern to a table and stretched her out on her stomach. Fern lay with her face against the smooth linen of the table-top and let her mind drift. She heard Benny opening a locker somewhere behind her.
Then she felt the woman beside her. After a moment, a splash of cold liquid struck her back. Fern jumped, but Benny's strong hands pushed her back on the table. "Take it easy," she said. "It's only the first handful that's cold."
Fern relaxed and let Benny's hands rub the alcohol into her skin. Benny began at her shoulders, and slowly worked down the back. Fern's muscles relaxed under the woman's expert hands. As Benny worked downward, Fern felt herself drifting off into sleep.
She came awake for a brief moment when Benny's hands came to her buttocks. The strong fingers closed over the full globes of flesh, and Fern felt a strange stirring inside her. But Benny's hands did not linger. Soon, they were sliding down the backs of Fern's legs and working the muscles of her calves. Fern thought it was one of the nicest sensations she had ever experienced.
She was so relaxed that she did not hear Benny when she spoke. The woman had to prod her to get her attention. "I said, turn over. This side's done."
Fern lifted herself on one elbow and turned onto her back. It occurred to her suddenly that she was completely exposed to Benny at this moment; that Benny was seeing her in a way no other person had seen her since she was a child. But no matter. It was so comfortable here on the table, and Benny's hands felt so good on her body, that all thoughts of modesty or embarrassment fled her mind.
Benny's hands were at her shoulders again working and kneading the flesh expertly Fern's mind drifted toward sleep once more as the lovely sensations relaxed her whole body.
Benny's hands slid downward slowly, and all at once, she was holding Fern's breasts. Fern opened her eyes and looked at the woman's face. Benny was bent over her, her lips, were parted and she was breathing hard.
Fern could not understand what was happening when Benny removed one of her hands and put her lips to the nipple. She tried to speak, but a sensation like one she had never known was spreading from the place where Benny's lips touched her. The aching was growing now, and a glowing, thrilling pleasure was engulfing her.
She put her hands into Benny's hair and drew the woman's face to her breast. Benny kissed the nipple gently, between her lips, prodding at it.
Fern felt Benny's free hand wandering down the length of her body; she felt Benny's fingers.
She held back for only a moment, then gave herself over to the woman utterly.
Benny's fingers found her.
Her last coherent thought was; So this is what it's like.
Then her mind went blank, and there was nothing but her body.
The next morning, Fern awoke with her mind made up. She knew with a crystal-clarity what she must do.
First, of course, she had to leave town. She knew enough about her neighbors and associates to know that an affair with Benny could not remain a secret long. Someone, somehow, would stumble on the truth sooner or later, and that would be a very uncomfortable situation. No, it was better to leave now, and let them wonder why she had gone. That way, no one would ever know what she was.
Except Benny. But Benny wouldn't tell.
She thought for a bit about the woman. What did she feel toward her first lover? What did she owe Benny for introducing her to this wonderful new world? They were hard questions to answer.
Benny had sworn her undying love last night, and Fern caught up in this glorious thrill of wanton pleasure, had replied in kind. But now, in the cold light of dawn. Fern realized that it had all been a sham. She didn't love Benny. When you came right down to it, she didn't even like her.
All she wanted was the pleasure that Benny had showed her, and she wanted it on a steady basis. Now that she had tasted love, she knew she would never be able to do without it.
So it was off to a big city, any big city, where she could be swallowed up in the crowd and no one would know or care what she was. And somewhere in that crowd there was a woman who could do for Fern everything Benny had done; perhaps even more. A new career stretched out before her. She was a pleasure-seeker from now on-everything else was secondary.
She drove out of town in her big white convertible her only expensive possession, and one that had been quite useless up till now. She kept her eyes before her and didn't look back even once at the town that had been her home for thirty-two years. The past was dead, and she didn't care if it was even buried. Let the corpse of that life rot in the sun, and good riddance.
Now, as the car purred easily down the broad stripe of the highway, her mind was at perfect ease. She knew what she was and where she was headed, and she knew what the reward of patience would be. Somewhere, there waited a girl who was hungry for the same thing that Fern hungered for, and together they would explore the dark joys which would relieve that hunger.
After several hours, and three hundred miles, Fern began to notice a gnawing sensation in the pit of her stomach. It was some minutes before she realized what it was. It came to her that she had eaten nothing since the night before, and that the growls and grumbles were simply the protests of an empty stomach.
She peered ahead up the road, looking for some sign of a restaurant. After a few minutes, a large diner came into view. The sign said: Red Apple Inn. There were two bright apples painted below the words.
Like breasts, Fern thought.
She pulled into the parking lot and braked to a stop. As she climbed out of the car and started across the asphalt to the entrance, she caught sight of her reflection in the plate glass of the front window.
The reflection was one of a beautiful woman.
Fern stopped for a moment, looking at the image without recognition. The figure was tall and graceful. The blonde hair was long and shining in the sunlight. The face was regal and cool, with a self-contained beauty that Fern had often admired in other women. The tight linen blouse was filled almost to bursting with the twin fruits of her breasts, and the tight skirt showed off the lines of her hips and buttocks to perfection.
There was something in the eyes too, something that didn't belong.
Fern was astounded. Of course, the skirt and blouse were too small; the only reason she had worn them was because they had been the first things to come to hand. And the gleaming blonde hair hung to her shoulders only because she had not had the time or the inclination to tie it up into its customary bun.
Because of all this, Fern was seeing herself for the first time, and she realized with a start that she was a beautiful woman. It had taken the hasty, accidental choice of clothing to reveal what she really looked like.
And she knew all at once what the new expression in the eyes signified. She was no longer a virgin. Not really. She was a woman who had been loved. It showed in her face, and the change was startling.
She pivoted slightly, trying to see how she looked in profile, and noticed somebody watching her out of the corner of her eyes. It was a man.
He was standing in a doorway near the side entrance of the diner. His hands were in his pockets and the expression on his face was unmistakable. She had seen the same thing written in Benny's features the night before.
She felt the man's eyes on her body, and was pleased. There was a perverse pleasure in the thought that the sight of her excited this man. How wonderful that she could stir him this way and make him long for something he could not have. She wondered if men experienced pain when they thwarted love. It was an interesting thought.
She thought for a moment of going up to the man brazenly and offering herself to him; leading him on with honeyed words and caresses, and, at the last possible moment, withdrawn the offer and leaving him. How wonderful it would be to torture a man that way. She knew that the beautiful face and body in which she had suddenly found herself could be used to good effect against the swinish male clan she hated so thoroughly.
But, no. It was yet time for such games. He looked strong; he would probably overpower her, given half an opportunity, and have his way with her whether she liked it or not. She would have to wait and gain experience before she could try anything as dangerous as that.
Suddenly, the man stepped from the doorway and started across the parking lot toward her. She realized with horror that she had been staring at the man for quite a long time, and that he probably thought she was giving him the come-on. The expression in his eyes was frightening, she could see his mouth drawing slightly away from his teeth in an expression of animal desire.
All at once, the bravado evaporated and she was afraid. She turned on her heel and walked quickly to the entrance.
Inside, she found a table and ordered. Despite her hunger, her mind was not on the food. She watched the door, waiting for the man to follow her inside. There was a cold knot of fear in her stomach.
The food arrived. The man did not.
She ate quickly, keeping her eyes on the door, but he did not appear. After a bit, she realized that he wasn't going to come after her.
She felt vaguely disappointed for an instant, then checked herself.
No matter; there would be other men, sooner or later. She would have her revenge many times over.
She washed the meal down with a cup of coffee. The waitress appeared at her side with a pot and refilled the cup. "Would you like anything else?" she asked.
Fern looked at the girl for the first time. She was young; no more than eighteen. Her body was not quite fully developed, but it had a firmness and promise that the severe uniform did little to conceal. Fern looked at the girl, and felt a twinge go through her.
"Yes," she said, keeping her voice level. "There is something else I would like. I would like to go to bed with you."
The girl was waiting the check as Fern said this, and she did not look up when she answered. "Get out of here, you freak, before I break this pot over your head," the girl said in a low, tight voice. She dropped the check on the table and walked back to the counter without a word.
Fern picked up the check with trembling fingers and went to the register. The little witch, she thought. I'll bet she takes men regularly enough. The tramp!
She scooped her change out of the dish and went through the door into the sunny day.
She looked for the man, but he was nowhere to be seen. The doorway where he had been standing was empty.
She gunned the car out of the parking lot viciously, her hands tight on the wheel.
Less than an hour had passed when she saw the kid up ahead. He was standing beside the road with his thumb out.