Chapter 5
Judy Wilcox was trembling. She stood behind the counter, right in front of the mess she had made. The mess was thick, and full of lumps, and steamy.
It was a plate of stew, the chef's special for today. Judy had just dropped it.
Mr. Flauten looked out of the window between the kitchen and the counter.
"What the hell's going on out there?" he called. "Judy-what did you do now?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Flauten," the girl said. Her voice trembled almost as much as her body. "I dropped a plate. I'm very sorry, Mr. Flauten."
Mr. Flauten's head disappeared from the window. Then he came through the swinging door from the kitchen with a rag in his hand.
"Damn, kid. Can't you even take a plate to the table without dropping it? What the hell's the matter with you?"
He kneeled down and gathered the mess of meat and broken china into the rag.
Judy forced herself to stop trembling. She bent every atom of her mind to the job of getting her body under control. She clenched her fists and her teeth and closed her eyes and stood very still for a moment, willing herself to become calm. After a bit, it started working.
When she opened her eyes, she was all right. Mr. Flauten was just climbing laboriously to his feet.
"Come on, kid. Get on the ball. We don't need a waitress so bad we can spare crockery for it. Yon get paid money here. You want to work off broken plates, let me know, we'll make a deal. Come on, now. Back to work."
He went back into the kitchen without waiting for a reply. Judy went to the window. In a moment, a fresh plate of stew was pushed through it.
She took it to the table where it belonged, and she noticed that her hands were steady as a rock.
That rotten, unnatural woman, she thought. She had read about people like that, but she had never really believed they existed until now. Maybe things like that happened in big cities, where everyone was a little crazy, but not out here in the green country. People weren't like that in places like this. At least, that was what she had thought.
Well, she was wrong. That was beyond a doubt. She had been propositioned by a Lesbian, right here, only three miles from where she had been born and raised.
She had handled herself well, she thought, considering the fact that this was the first time anything like this had happened to her. Of course, it was a lot Eke being propositioned by a man. It was almost the same thing, actually.
Judy had been schooled well by her father m the way to handle such situations. Daddy had always said that the simplest way to say no to a man who tried to get fresh was with an insult. Not only did this preclude any further conversation; if it was worked right and if you thought fast enough, you could really cut the fresh guy in a place where it hurt.
Judy had been propositioned before. She had always wormed her way out of it. A few times, she had squelched the guy so throughly that he had never wanted to see her again, much less make a play for her.
There were still some young men in town who would cross the street when they saw her coming.
Judy, needless to say, was a virgin.
Yes, she had been propositioned many times. But never by a Lesbian. The experience had shaken her more than she cared to admit. The trembling had subsided, but her mind was still in a turmoil.
How could there be people who could do such filthy things, she wondered. How could anybody be so peculiar or-well, crazy was the only word for it You would have be crazy to want to go to bed with a member of your own sex.
Judy knew only a little about love, but it was enough for her to know that there couldn't be anything more unnatural than making love with somebody built like yourself. It was the difference between boys and girls that made it fun.
She remembered the time that she and her cousin from the city had played doctor in the barn. She had been only a little kid then, and she had not realized what was happening until it was almost too late. Of course, they had both been too young to get in real trouble, but Judy wouldn't have been a virgin today if she had not stopped him when she did.
That was the first time she had any idea that boys were different from girls, beyond the length of their hair.
Her cousin from the city was certainly different from her. A lot different.
They had abandoned the original notion of the game rather early in the proceedings and had progressed to out-and-out exploration. The whole thing was fascinating.
She had asked him what was that for, and he had told her. Then he had shown her some rather peculiar things connected with it and the way it worked. That had been good fun, especially when he let her hold it for a while.
Then he had asked her what that was for, and she had told him. Well, she had told him as much as she herself knew. Which wasn't a hell of a lot.
He had touched her for a while, exploring and searching. And Judy discovered something else, this time about herself. Being touched was fun. Being touched was a lot of fun. Being touched was more fun that anything she had ever experienced.
It was a strange, new kind of fun. Most things that were fun were fun only for a while. Then they got boring. But this fun got better and better. The longer they played, the better it got. Then, all of a sudden, it got best.
That was the first time Judy had ever done anything like that.
Afterward, she had asked her father about it; about the difference and the fun. Her father had been very nice and understanding about the whole thing, and had told her a few facts that put the incident in its proper perspective. And he had warned Judy that, although things like playing around were part of growing up, she should never allow anybody to do anything like that to her ever again.
Her father also made sure that her cousin from the city didn't come to visit them any more.
In the years between that time and the present, Judy had learned a little more about the difference and the fun. She knew it was fun-she could remember what fun it was. But she also knew that it was something that happened only between married people. This was a discouraging fact, but a fact nevertheless. It was fun but with a catch.
So she never let boys touch her there, or anywhere, regardless of how they pleaded or how much she wanted it. She never let boys do anything but kiss her. After a while the boys had stopped bothering with her altogether.
She was unhappy about this, but the stern voice of her father and the things he had said still were quite clear in her mind. So, there was nothing to do but accept the situation as it was. The fun would have to wait until she got married.
Now, she was making a small living in the Red Apple Inn, and waiting for her husband to come along. So many people came into the Red Apple that she was sure the man for her to marry would be along sooner or later. She would just have to wait and bide her time and put up with Mr. Flauten until that day had arrived. It was not exactly her idea of a good rime, but it was the best she could do. And, until today, she had been more or less satisfied with it.
But the pervert had changed all that.
That filthy Lesbian had ruined the day for Judy, but she had done even more than that. She had reminded Judy of love again, just when she had succeeded in almost forgetting about it.
Lesbians were crazy but they had one thing in common with normal people. They were looking for fun. That fun. The fun.
That woman had wanted Judy to go to bed with her so they could have fun. Maybe she was interested in only her own fun; maybe she didn't give a damn whether Judy enjoyed herself or not. But the idea was the same. That woman might just as well have been a man. She wanted Judy for the same reasons.
And now the old yearning was creeping over her-the yearning for the fun she once knew out in the barn on that golden afternoon when she and her cousin from the big city had played doctor and learned about the difference.
The process of picking up the food and putting it where it was wanted was a completely automatic one for Judy, which was unfortunate. It gave her too much time to think.
It was a long, unhappy afternoon.
At around seven o'clock, the evening rush began. After a few hours, the crowds began to peter out, until, at ten o'clock, there was hardly anyone in the restaurant half of the Red Apple Inn.
The bar half had been filling up, however; now, the voices and the laughter from the bar sounded quite plainly through the connecting door.
Judy ignored the happy sounds and concentrated on carrying a cup of coffee to one of the tables without spilling any of it into the saucer.
Only a few more minutes, she thought, and I can go home. A few more minutes. Sixty minutes. Well, that sounded better than an hour.
It was Saturday night, she realized unhappily. Saturday night was no time for a young girl to be working. Saturday night was no time for a young girl to be going home and to bed at eleven o'clock. It just wasn't right.
But there was nothing she could do about it.
Even if she had wanted to go out somewhere with a boy, even if she had been willing to fight him off at the end of the evening, even if she possessed the energy required to keep the boy from doing anything bad, it was impossible. There weren't any boys. None at all. Not for her.
There was a roar of laughter from the bar. Judy listened, the yearning growing inside her.
Why had that woman asked Judy to do that awful thing with her? She still couldn't understand how it had happened. Why had the woman picked Judy out like that, at random? She couldn't have known Judy, or even have seen her before. The woman was just another passing stranger, a hungry face from the road, like most of the other customers. So why had she chosen Judy?
A little thrill of horror crept up Judy's spine as an explanation hit her. Can it be that I look funny? she wondered. Can it be that I look like one of those people? Is that why she asked me? Do I look like a Lesbian?
She put a sandwich in front of a fat woman, and walked quickly to the back of the restaurant, where the ladies' room was. Inside, she took a good long look at herself in the mirror.
The tight, trim uniform didn't do much for her, she decided. If anything, it made her look less feminine than usual. Her face didn't look too bad; just a bit too fresh and young, perhaps, but it was certainly the face of a girl. A normal girl.
Even her hair was feminine, without being spectacularly so. It might have been different if she was wearing her hair in a boyish cut, or tight to her head, or some unusual, unattractive way like that. But she had her hair in a pony-tail, and she always thought that it made her look very nice and very female. It might attract a man, but it shouldn't have any effect on a woman at all.
Then maybe it was her eyes. She leaned close to get a better look at the expression there.
Yes, there was something-something wrong, right there in her eyes. It didn't take an expert to see that there was a look in her eyes hat didn't belong in the eyes of a young girl.
My eyes look lusty, she thought I feel lusty. I need a man.
Yes, that was the answer. It was very simple. She needed a man. She needed a strong masculine person to make love to her, to tell her how nice she was, to whisper sweet nothings in her ear, to kiss her and caress her and to love her. That was all she needed; that was everything she needed.
Damn you, daddy, she thought Why did you tell me all that about how it should only happen when you're married. Every girl needs love, whether she's married or not. You can't expect a normal young female to go along doing nothing but working in a restaurant and watching television. And I'm a normal young girl. I am. I really am. Aren't I?
When she came out of the restroom, there was a new face at the counter. It belonged to a tall, good-looking man who was drinking a cup of black coffee. As Judy came nearer, she realized that the man was quite drunk.
Mr. Flauten came around the end of the counter and walked toward the kitchen door. As he passed her, he said, "You want to keep this job, you don't spend so much time in the John."
Judy ignored him. Her eyes were on the man with the coffee who was drunk.
He had a kind face, she thought, a fine, sensitive face. He looked like a gentle man, a sweet man, a man who would treat a girl right. She glanced at his left hand, but there was no ring there. Well, married men didn't always wear rings.
Now that she was close to him, she saw that he was a good deal older than she had first supposed. He looked at least thirty-five. Maybe forty. But he had a kind face, and that made it all right.
She came up in front of him and wiped the counter. "Would you like anything else, sir?" she asked. He looked up at her.
His eyes were wonderful; deep and brown and soulful, with a hurt somewhere deep inside them. That was fascinating. It gave his face a dark, tragic look, like a man who had suffered.
Judy found something very strange happening to her.
"No, thank you," he said. His voice was deep and mellow. She liked it.
The strange feeling was growing inside her. It was something she had never felt before, something completely new and throughly frightening. It was almost like being sick, the way she felt it welling up, out of her control. She tried to fight it.
"Are you sure, Sir, you wouldn't like something with your coffee? We have some nice apple pie. Or chocolate cake, if you prefer."
He smiled. "No, miss. Not tonight. I think I would like another cup of coffee, though." His smile was warm. The feeling was growing, growing.
"Yes, sir," she said, struggling to keep her voice level. She went to the coffee urn and drew a fresh cup. She brought it back and put it in front of him. She fought it.
"Here you are, sir."
"Thank you very much," he said.
Oh, God, she thought, I'm going to say it. I can't hold it back. It's going to happen whether I want it to or not. Daddy, I'm sorry.
The man was looking at her. "Is there something wrong miss? Miss?"
"Please," she said, and then it was too late to stop.
"Please, would you make love to me?"