Chapter 10
If the days at school were bad-Pattie Conte's presence in class, the fact that she was even abroad in that concrete labyrinth-the nights were even worse. Sitting home those evenings with Diane close at hand, feigning interest in a TV program, fighting to concentrate on a magazine or book, his mind all the while blazing with thoughts of Patti, was harrowing torture. It was impossible to act natural, to conduct a barely coherent conversation with Diane.
Get hold of yourself, he warned repeatedly, act like something besides a sleepwalker. You want Diane to tumble, you want to ruin everything?
He might as well have warned the wall. Remembrance of Patti, the crushing sense of victory intermixed with the most galling shame and remorse-was with him every placid, uninvolved moment. As well as the whiplashing desire, the feverish impatience to be with Patti again, consequences, propriety, sanity be damned!
So long as he was busy with the wrap-up school activities he was fairly all right. But just leave gaps of unoccupied time, even tiny ones, and Patti would invade his brain; her voice, her face, her cries, the things she'd said Friday in the nurse's room would churn and tumble in his head. Until he was crazy to see her, be with her again.
He hadn't seen Tessa Vareese in over a week. And, bluntly put, he couldn't have cared less. He'd pointedly avoided the library, he'd taken routes through the halls which would preclude his bumping into her. Once, seeing her heading toward his classroom one late afternoon, he'd backtracked and ducked into the men's lounge.
The truth was that the interlude with Patti had turned him against the unprincipled wanton. The thing with Patti was meaningful, tremendously moving, realization of sick, but nevertheless all powerful daydreams; he didn't want it to end. Where the thing with Tessa, he now realized, was nothing more than a passion circus. A meeting of bodies, and nothing more. Remembering the things he'd let Tessa do the last time they'd met, he wondered what depravities they would've eventually experimented with had the affair continued.
But now, he decided, that was over. He'd never go back to Tessa. He wouldn't have to say anything; just staying away should be sufficient. Tessa was an intelligent girl, she didn't need more of a hint. The episode was definitely a thing of the past.
Besides, there was Diane to consider. She was his wife, she had borne his children, he did have appearances to maintain. And, once the lunatic thing with Patti had run the course, he'd again be able to step back into the rut his life had previously been. Glad for all he knew to do so.
He recalled one night (was it Sunday? It seemed a lifetime had passed since) when, agitated by memory of Patti, he'd made romantic overtures toward Diane. To which overtures she'd surprisingly responded, showing warmth, eagerness even. Certainly that hadn't been a dutiful surrender. But somehow, the love act barely underway, they had both sensed the sham, and in confusion had allowed the real meaning to slip away. like two machines they'd seen the thing through, simulated ardor and shattering release. That had been, awful.
Afterward Diane had cried. Nothing he'd said had comforted her. On Monday, in the clear light of day, he'd pondered the sobbing breakdown. Certainly something was troubling Diane. He should get to the bottom of it. If only ... If only there weren't Patti.
There would be time. Later. Much later. They had the whole summer before them. When Patti would be gone, supposedly out of his life for good.
The thought made him want to scream with frustration.
So May marched gaily on. As the end of the school year drew near Ken Baylor's desperation grew greater. Armageddon loomed.
During that third week in May spring moved in with a vengeance. For days on end the temperature hit the eighties and the countryside was a riot of color. It was a difficult time for students and teachers alike. Discipline inasmuch as the teachers also were smitten with spring fever was almost impossible to maintain.
And Ken Baylor was in a raging fever of need.
Thus it was that on Wednesday, May 15, Baylor asked Patti Conte to stop by after school. It was, of necessity, a short interview. But a very detailed one, during which he and Patti discussed an escape they'd make that night, ironed out all contingent alibis, precautions and plans.
Both parties left the school building that night in a highly agitated frame of mind.
Diane once more deluded into thinking he was at a curriculum revision meeting, Ken picked up Patti about four blocks from her home as she slowly walked toward the city limits. By using a circuitous route, keeping to back streets, they were able to get out of town without being observed.
Ken found a deserted country lane about seven miles out of Glendon Falls. Pulling into a concealing copse of trees and bushes, Ken killed the Chev's engine and instantly extinguished the lights. Then, a tortured gasp breaking from him product of joy, relief and pain combined he was at Patti, he was holding her in aching embrace.
"Baby, baby," he groaned, his lips locking on hers mercilessly, forgetting gentleness for the moment, so great was his joy. "Oh, God, if you only knew how much I've missed you, how much I've longed to hold you like this."
"Yes, Ken, yes," she answered, her lips peeking greedily at his face, "me, too. I've felt awful, like I'd go crazy if I couldn't see you again."
They kissed and kissed, as if they couldn't get enough of each other, a reckless, selfish, headlong frenzy possessing them; they turned into animals, reason and logic banished. All they knew was that they wanted to touch, to kiss and hold like children when they first experience love, unable to express that love in any other way than physical, finding words puny and meaningless.
This was compulsion that fed on itself, grew stronger for the nourishment, turned snarling and famished on its very benefactors.
And soon, all too soon, they were both shuddering without stop, their breaths were whistling in their throats, their words made no sense at all, conversely made all the sense in the world.
There was no reticence tonight, no fear of the unknown so far as Patti was concerned. She knew why she was here, she knew what to expect before they parted, she was delirious to enjoy him.
Outside the car a soft breeze soughed in the trees, the star shine illuminated the waving, rippling grasses. Far off in the distance the sound of a semi on a main highway, shifting gears as it went up a hill, carried to them. Somewhere there must have been a displaced lilac bush. Its sweet, suffocating fragrance carried into the car, served as totally superfluous aphrodisiac.
Patti stroked his face with her soft, warm hands, shook suddenly, her breath issuing in a plaintive sigh. "Ken ... it's so lovely. Can ... we.. . ? "
"Yes," he said, struck with awe at the sensuality within this innocent half child, half woman. "We can. We will. In a moment. We'll go outside. I brought a blanket. You won't mind, will you?"
Her eyes glittered, her voice caught. "Mind? No, darling. Why should I mind?"
"Some girls might think this cheap."
"I'm not some girls, Ken." She burrowed her forehead into the hollow beneath his chin. "Anything, dear. Just so long as I'm with you. I don't care where or how. I'm happy wherever you are."
"Patti, my precious angel."
And their mouths closed again, consumed, devoured. Tentatively Ken brought his tongue to her lips, touched them. A tremor rocked her, her arms tightened around his neck. And her tongue flicked forth in pagan answer. The kiss seemed to last forever.
They began to perspire in the car, the balmy weather, their rising ardor contributing to their discomfort "Please, Ken," Patti said finally. "Let's go outside."
They pushed out on Patti's side, hand in hand, not wanting to break their tactile contact for even a second. Ken pulled the picnic blanket, permanent fixture in the car, from the back seat.
They went a distance from the car, Ken's heart jamming up in his throat at the happiness he felt to be holding this small little girl in his arms, to know that he was leading her to...
They found a hollow in the shadows of the aromatic lilac bush. A place where the grass was high, where, once the blanket was spread and they were lying down, they seemed to be in a safe, hidden trench. The crickets' monotonous chirping came more loudly now.
But Ken and Pattie were hardly concerned with such petty things as crickets and lilacs. They contributed to the rampaging desire both felt, they enhanced an already tragically romantic background, but consciously they didn't matter at all.
Only one thing mattered. A thing that burned and etched itself into their minds, a thing which turned their limbs molten, that caused them to ache and burn with a libertine fever.
Ken threw himself against Patti, crowded her body to him while his arms enfolded her torso, crammed her to painful contact with his chest. His lips were searching, impatient, brutal, careening over her face, down her neck to the very bastions of her breasts. Kissing and nipping, they came to the first swell of those voluptuous peaks, an attention which set Patti to sighing.
"Take my clothes off, Ken," she choked. "Please. I want you just like you were the other day. I want to be like that for you again." Her voice broke. "Ken, dearest, I'm getting that funny, crazy feeling again. Please, please...."
It gave him such a proud, supreme feeling to work her skirt over her legs, to have her make no move to stop him, to slide his hands on her. He kissed her without stop, his hands rolling and gliding on that silky skin, the exultation growing as Patti helplessly shifted her body, dug her heels into the blanket. He wanted to chuckle his delight as, with each passing moment, her breath came faster, more hissingly tortured.
Then the submission paled, and Ken wanted more. Much more. Carefully he moved away from her and began to undress her. It took a long time, for as each garment came away Ken was drawn to kiss, to stroke, to merely admire.
Until she was naked before him, her body stretched proudly before him, all modesty gone tonight. In the watery light her flesh was muted ivory, her lips and eyes, her dark hair contrasted with evil effect. Her nipples were dark, distended, seemingly begging him to come adore them.
This was irresistible invitation, and Ken was wild to bend, to kiss at those bursting tips. But first.. .
He rose, no trace of embarrassment present now, and stripped before Patti's wide, staring gaze. And when his last garment fell away, again revealed him, an involuntary, wistful sigh broke from her lips. He knelt, sat in a crouch, staring at her for a long time, his fingers caressing her legs.
Then he was down on the blanket beside her, that breeze only moderately cool on his back. He was kissing her. Patti's arms went crazy, pressured her body against him, while a low, keening whisper came from her.
Ken let his lips zigzag down her bosom until they reached the foothills of her breasts. Then they began a slow, maddening climb. And as his lips made contact, as Patti hissed her pleasure, wound her fingers in his hair, he thought how lucky he was to have this love, to have all the time in the world to pursue her. He knew he wasn't going to get his fill of these breasts, of these nut-hard nipples for a long time.
In variation he gathered her melon-like breasts in his hands, rolling them in clockwise, then counter-clockwise spirals. His fingers teased the nipples until they seemed so hard they would pop at any moment.
An attention which Patti was fanatic about.
And finally, working gently, he squeezed the breasts together, he brought the two nipples close, dropped his lips to them, consumed them both at once.
Patti gasped. "Oh dear, Ken," she breathed. "Oh, dear. I never dreamed..
But at long last they could wait no longer. Patti's breath was rasping in her throat, her gasps deep and wavering, as if she were suffocating.
Now was, without a doubt, the time.
"Oooh," she whimpered, her body moving reflexively, "Oooh, Ken. I'd almost forgotten."
He became impatient. "Be careful, darling," she whispered. "Remember I'm new at this..."
He cursed himself for a slob. "I'm sorry, Patti. I just want you so badly. I...."
"That's all right," she said. "I'm all right now. I'm ready."
They started slowly, something ethereal, spiritually beautiful about the time, the place, about the perfect sense of self-sacrifice surrounding them. Teacher and pupil, each learning and each teaching, sharing an awesome mystery, enjoying to the depths of their being.
But then the gentleness faded. An intense savagery was born for both of them. Both of them moved more rapidly.
Faster, faster-
"You're better tonight, darling," Patti said. "Better than last time." Her voice grew thick. "I love you, Ken, oh I love you."
And Ken, sincerely believing the words this time, re-echoed them. "I love you, Patti. So much. I'm wild about you. I'd die if I didn't have you."
"Oh!" she cried bewilderedly. "Something's happening. I think I'm starting. Oh, you feel so strange, so wonderful. Oh, honey, honey . .
He gauged her reactions perfectly, slowed his rhythm, drew her to a silvery thread of ecstasy. And then Ken went in search of his own moment of truth.
Patti, adrift from her own fulfillment, lay inert and drowsy. "Help me, darling," he said softly. "Don't give up so soon."
Almost like a reprimanded child she started. "Oh. I forgot. You were so good I forgot. Yes, Ken, yes.. .
The full, sublime impact of his own deliverance was shadowed somewhat by the final commotion which unexpectedly overtook Patti.
She was almost funny. The way her eyes grew so round, the way her voice faltered. "Ken! I think . . .that can't be ... I think I'm starting again. Oh, please, darling, don't stop."
A fragile cry sliced the dark night. And Patti's education was advanced that much farther. She'd learned another of love's miracles. Ken would have laughed.
Except for one thing. The fact that he was, himself, at that devastating moment, experiencing one of love's miracles himself. A miracle that threatened to turn him inside out, leave him a boneless, will-less husk.
"Patti," he choked. "Patti, baby, take me. I'm here, I'm here."
She helped him. Refused to stop helping until.. .
Then, sighing, they fell into a shuddering, breath rasping heap.
He couldn't help but marvel at her instinctive approach to love. Who, he thought, was teaching who?
"That was marvelous, Ken," she sighed throatily. "I'll never get tired of that ... of you..."
The tension of the past few days, plus the exertions of a minute ago, took their toll. And Ken, without really knowing, drifted into a blissful, perfect sleep. While Patti cuddled to him, stroked his hair without stop.
"I love you, Ken," she intoned fervently into the night. "I love you."
On Thursday afternoon late Ken could put off his confrontation with Tessa Vareese no longer. There were things he had to pick up at the library. Besides, he was being cowardly and he knew it. He couldn't go on running, skulking, the rest of the year. There'd be no scene, he'd be able to keep his head, handle things.
But when he saw the haggard yearning in Tessa's eyes as he entered the semi-deserted library, he wasn't quite so sure of himself. Perhaps this was going to be tougher than he'd thought
"Well, hello, stranger," she said sotto voce, shooting a glance over his shoulder at the few students still studying. "Where've you been keeping yourself? I thought maybe you'd joined the Navy."
"I've been busy, Tessa. You know how that is. End of the year and all."
"Not that busy, baby," she sneered. "You realize it's been ten days since I've seen you? Even talked to you? What's happened, Ken? Have you cooled on me? So soon?"
He tried to be business-like. "Here's a list of some books I'd like Tessa. Perhaps you could have them ready for me by tomorrow."
"I'll get them for you now," she said coldly. "Will you come back in the stacks?"
"There's no hurry," he said, knowing full well what would transpire once they got back into those banks of books.
"I said," she repeated imperiously, "come back in the stacks."
A student looked up. And, wanting to escape a further scene, Ken dutifully followed her behind the counter, into the bowels of the library proper.
He wasn't quite ready for the suddenness of Tessa's attack. She twisted her arms around him, bore him back against a concealing bookcase and kissed him repeatedly. Her lips slid excitingly on his.
"Baby," she pleaded, "don't say we're through. I've missed you so. Please, Ken, I need you. I won't make any messy demands on you. This is a practical thing. I need you, you need me. Well take care of each other. You haven't found someone else, have you?"
"No," he lied. "There's no one else."
"Then why hoard? Come on over tonight." Her voice curdled with longing. "Oh, I'll be so good for you."
Despite his resolve Ken felt himself weakening. No matter what Tessa was, she was still one damned exciting woman. She knew how to work a man. He felt a twinge of lust, imagined just how good Tessa was capable of making things for him. His determination crumbled bit by bit.
"Maybe, Tessa," he stammered. "Tonight. I'll see if I can get away. But if I can't get there tonight, I'll try some other night."
"Some other night?" she wheedled, kissing him again. "Why so vague? Tell me. Friday, Saturday, Monday ... Don't leave me dangling."
"I can't be definite," he said. "You know my situation as well as I do. I'll just have to get out when I can.
"Brother, you have changed. I knew you when you'd break your neck to get one of Tessa's treatments."
"Stop now," he snapped. "You're being vulgar. I told you, I'll be over when I can."
"I guess," she sighed wearily. "I'll have to accept that. But you promise?" Desperation flared in her gaze. "You aren't just stringing me along?"
"I promise." He offered the list again, noticing how his hand was trembling. "Now, about these books."
"I'll have them for you tomorrow morning," she smirked.
She tried to kiss him again but he evaded her. They started up the sun-spotlighted aisle near the windows. Here Tessa, throwing caution to the winds, caught him and dragged him back, kissed him scorchingly. He fought mildly until he was caught in a strange debility and permitted the kiss.
Crazy, crazy ... he raged.
They seemed to hear a small sliver of sound, sensed the presence of an intruder. Guiltily they broke the kiss, stared out toward the study room. But there was nothing, nobody. Only the rows of empty tables.
And Ken bolted, for some strange reason feeling a bone-chilling premonition of dread.