Chapter 12
Diane Baylor stood within the SQUALID motel room, her back up against the light switch, the sharp toggle digging into her shoulder. She held the pose, seemingly for support, as wave after wave of disbelief swept over her.
Cory Shelby was in the motel manager's office, registering, paying for their room. She fought but could not entirely contain the revulsion she now felt. Some of the things he'd said as they'd driven to this out-of-the-way place, his smug, cocky manner, had sickened Diane, so had the ease with which he'd handled the whole thing, the motel, the leering, all-knowing owner his familiarity with the procedures.
She certainly wasn't the first woman he'd brought to this hole. The thought made her feel cheaper than ever.
Now her legs tensed. She wanted desperately to bolt as she heard Shelby's deep voice humming in low monotone as the sound of his footsteps approached their unit. But she couldn't run now. She was committed. In more ways than one.
And she envisioned Ken in bed with that Vareese tramp, she saw him smiling, kissing her. She saw him undressing her. And then, in the witch's bedroom.. .
The rage was back. I'll get even with you, Ken. I'll show you what wallowing is really like.
"Diane?" Shelby muttered, entering. "Are you here? What's with the lights?" His hand groped for the switch, encountered Diane's soft flesh. "Hey, what're you doing?"
"Don't turn on the lights, Cory," she whispered. "I ... I'd rather you didn't."
He was taking her into his arms, he was rubbing his cheek against hers. He'd come away from home so fast he hadn't had time to shave and his whiskers scraped her face. Now his lips slid upward, sought to kiss her. Diane smelled his breath, decidedly sour.
She flinched, but he didn't notice. His squashy lips closed on hers, his slippery tongue bunted against her teeth. Suddenly Diane wasn't sure she could go through with this.
"Still scared, huh?" he chuckled, breaking the kiss. "Don't be. I won't hurt you. Not so long's you're good to old Cory." He hugged her again. "Relax, baby. Stop shaking, I'm not as bad as all that." His snicker was liquid. "In fact, before we're through tonight, you're going to think I'm something special. Real special."
He was trembling himself. Diane felt her repugnance grow as he pushed his puffy, spongy body against hers. He was so different from Ken, he reminded her of a shapeless, slippery slug.
Dear God, she thought, how did I ever think I could go through with this?
"You could've knocked me over with a broom-straw," he was gloating, his lips sliding on her smooth throat, "when I heard your voice. And when you said you wanted to see me ... wanted me ... Oh, hell I"
"I didn't say that."
"You practically did, didn't you? Diane, if you only knew how long I've wanted this. Some of the dreams I've had about you." He sucked in a soft gurgle. "Ever since that party. Well, I never thought you actually would..."
"I'm here, Cory," she said levelly.
"You are, aren't you? Oh, I can hardly wait. I promise. I'll show you what a good man's like. No lily-livered schoolteacher can take care of a female like you. Hell, honey, we're gonna have some good times together..."
"Please. Don't talk about that. I...."
"One of those, huh? All action, huh? I'll buy that Only you can't blame me for wondering. The icy brush you gave me the last time. And next thing I know you're giving me a ring-a-ling. Did you and Ken have a fight?"
His voice turned weaselly. "Or maybe he's taking his trade some place else? He digs some other doll's brand? Spreading the wealth, sorta?"
"Cory. I said I didn't want to talk. Drop that, will you?"
"Okay, honey. Anything you say. like to keep my dollies happy." He tried to squeeze past her, get at the light switch again. But she blocked him. "Hey, c'mon now. The drapes are pulled. Nobody'll see in."
"Please? Couldn't we just stay in the dark?"
"Nothing doing, baby. I saw that get-up of yours when I picked you up, you looked like a million bucks. I wanna see more of that. I dig women all dolled up, I dig all those silky pretties." He struggled with her. "You don't get off that easy."
"Please, Cory. Don't turn this into something vulgar.
"Vulgar? Just because I want to see your clothes?"
"Cory, stop," she hissed. And then the terror was complete. She didn't want to see this through at all. She didn't want to go to bed with this coarse, ugly slob. She wanted to go home. Where she could think, see things in their proper perspective once more. Certainly there were better ways to settle her problems than this. What, she wailed, got to me?
His hands found her breasts, his fingers gathered at her nipples, clustered and pinched. She tried to push him away. "No, Cory, please. Stop. I've changed my mind. I don't want you. I want to go home. Let me go now. This was a mistake, a terrible mistake."
"What?" he rasped, rage full-blown in his voice. "What are you trying to pull, queenie? I paid six bucks for this room. You ain't just teasing old Cory, then brushing him off. You must think you're dealing with some damned amateur or something. I'm getting you, make no mistake."
"No, please, Cory. Let me go." Her voice broke, she was on the verge of tears. "I'll give you the money."
"You'll give me hell. You'll give me only one thing. That beautiful, lush figure, those boobs, that's what you'll give me."
"I'll scream, Cory. I'll wake the dead. I swear I will. Let me go now...."
He laughed. "You won't scream, kid. Not if I know you. You won't lay your precious reputation on the line. That'd be in the town rag tomorrow. Cry, you make me laugh." He wrestled her into his arms again. "You're here, and we're gonna finish what we came here for."
And now, a rolling peal of thunder sounding in her brain, Diane realized this was so. In her lust for revenge she'd walked into a trap. If she was going to escape, if she was going to buy silence, there was only one way. With her body, with her dubious virtue.
She became weak and dizzy, felt the man pull her away from the wall, fling her toward the center of the tiny room. The lights blazed on, tore at her eyes. Diane stood blinking.
"Stand there, damn you!" he tore. "Do as I say! I'll let you off easy if you cooperate." Now he leaned against the door, his eyes greedily devouring her body, a lecher light, fanatic and aberrated, growing fn his gaze. "Oh, Diane," he hissed. "If you aren't a sight. That pretty white dress, those silky legs, the way your boobs keep going up and down. Damn, if you knew what that does to me."
Now he withdrew a pint bottle of whiskey from his jacket pocket, took a healthy swallow. Advancing on Diane, he offered the bottle to her. She averted her face in distaste. "Take a swig," he ordered. "That'll make things easier for you. Go ahead."
"I don't ... I've never ... raw whiskey..."
"Take a drink," he threatened. When she hesitated, he grabbed her, held her hands behind her, rammed the bottle against her teeth. Fearing a chipped tooth, Diane opened her mouth, let the bottle be jammed in. Then the scalding liquid was filling her mouth, burning and choking her. She swallowed swiftly, disregarding the pain, terrified of choking.
But then she could take no more. As she tore her head away a large splash of whiskey sprayed her skirt. Despite herself she began coughing; tears filled her eyes and ran down her face.
"Got a real bite, ain't that?" he grinned lewdly, enjoying her discomfiture, the sense of power he held over his victim. "That'll make you feel better, make you wild for me in a minute." And upon his own recommendation he took another deep swallow himself.
That was true. Nervous as Diane had been at dinner time she'd picked at her food, had eaten very little. This combined with the nervousness of her vigil outside the house and the actual tailing of Ken to render her perfectly defenseless against the onslaught of the bourbon.
And quickly the liquor cut in, doing deadly work on her nervous system. The first symptom was the fiery scorching in her throat. Then a ball of pain dipped to her stomach, spreading like wildfire from there.
Shelby had regained his observation post. "Pull back your elbows, honey," he slurred. "Make those boobs stand up. Act like you're proud of 'em."
To spare herself further prolongation of this defilement, her head growing heavier by the minute, Diane complied with his sick commands. She pulled back her arms, arched her back, turned and posed for the man while the whiskey continued to sing a wicked song.
"Your skirt now, baby," he smiled. "Lift that. Real slow. Show daddy those pins of yours. Show him your pretty undies." She hesitated, looked toward him, blinked.
But as he stiffened and came toward her, she leaned, slowly began lifting the hem of her skirt.
"That's better," he said. "Slow now, take that slow." In another minute he'd be clenching his hands between his legs. "Ooh, that gets me. Wow, that pretty pink girdle, those pretty pink legs. You got 'em, baby. Have you got 'em! Slow now, slow. That's right. Mmmmm, what a backside on that."
"Please...." she faltered, "don't make me ... any more..."
"Shut up, Diane. You called me, remember? Now gather the skirt all the way round, hold that out of the way. That's right. Now start turning around, bounce at me from every angle."
Dumbly, wanting now only to get this perverted thing out of the way, Diane did as she was told. Won't he get tired of this soon? she wailed.
He did, and amidst a storm of hissing cries, he pushed her toward the bed. Her skirt still around her waist, he sat her down, made her take another drink of the whiskey. She was getting quite dizzy. Then he caressed her legs and finally tipped her back on the bed.
With the lights still glaring brightly, he began to rub and pinch her until at long last, tiring of the sick homage, he began to undress her an act that was made the more humiliating by the sick compliments which issued from his lips with the removal of each and every garment.
Diane dumbly submitted, royally cursing the weakness that had made her seek this vengeance against her husband. Who was being avenged, who was being brutalized ?
Shelby began to shake, his breath was clicking in his throat. Abruptly he was up. The room went dark. In the silence she heard his hurried, harsh breathing, she heard the rustle of his clothing, the click of his belt, the hiss of his zipper. Now today, the naked man was coming to her, gathering her in his arms, purposely pressing himself against her.
"There, honey," he goaded, "ain't that nice? Don't ten me that prissy husband of yours is that nice."
She didn't answer.
He grabbed her breast, squeezed and twisted brutally. Diane gasped sharply. "Answer me when I talk to you, witch! Or I'll twist this thing out by the roots." Diane was quite aware now of what kind of love Cory
Shelby favored. "I'm nice, am I?"
"Yes," she forced brokenly. "You're nice."
"I'm the nicest you've ever had, ain't I."
"You're the nicest."
"That's a good girl," he slurped. "A real good girl."
Sadism was such a dominating part of the man's desires that Diane was quite unprepared for what happened next. For now Shelby dropped his head to her breasts, began to nip the hard rosettes there with growing restlessness as if ashamed to admit the other facet of his character.
But he was helpless before the drive. And seconds later his body was turning on the bed. Diane arched, tried to forestall him. But like a wild animal he turned to her, buried his teeth in her flesh, bore mercilessly. Diane moaned, dropped her hands, surrendered. There would be an incriminating, angry bruise on her tomorrow, of that she was positive.
And when his hands dug at her, she went limp, resigned herself, let him move her, arrange her as he pleased. She felt his breath on her, felt the stubble of his beard scrape. Then she felt something else. Something she'd never felt before. A peppery maddening touch. A sensation that was utterly unhinging, that made her want to scream nonstop.
She wanted with all her heart and soul to shove him away. And yet.. .
She became aware of choking, throbbing sighs coming from somewhere, and was stunned to realize that she was making them. She fought to keep her arms still, possessed as she was by the most lunatic desire to kick the man.
But the worst was yet to come. For now she became conscious of the fact that he was rearranging, his body. He stopped his happy crooning, removed the stinging brand from her. "You now," he said. "We'll do that together."
"No, no," she croaked, her skull feeling like someone was scraping out her brains with a rusty trowel. "I can't, I swear I can't."
"You will!" he spat. And he dropped his head again, bit her. Little by little he increased the pressure, until she knew that if she didn't soon comply with his aberrated wishes, he would surely...
Her hands came up. She took him, guided him. Her stomach reeled, threatened to rebel.
Afterward he made love in conventional fashion, babbling a sick chant of filth throughout. And when they were finished with this, he chucklingly defiled her, called her rotten names, begged her to help him get ready again. "A long night, baby," he giggled. "We'll make a real night of this."
It was after one-thirty when Ken finally returned home to find Diane was still out. He was puzzled, but not overly concerned. He was too drunk for that. He paid the baby sitter, saw her across the street. Obviously, he thought, upon returning, heading for the bedroom, there'll be no coffee and hamburgers tonight.