Chapter 12
When Sally woke up, she was alone. She stirred, opening her eyes, wondering where she was. She felt a marvelous peace suffusing her battered body, knew that something wonderful-and something terrible, too-had happened to her.
She heard voices from the living-room beyond, recognized one as Mike's one as Art's. And then it all came back to her-where she was, Art's ruthless assault on her trembling flesh, his near rape, the obscenities he had subjected her to, the perversions they had committed together. And then with a searing clarity, she remembered Mike's face when he had discovered the two of them at their lewd lovemaking, his cruel words forever emblazoned on her mind. "Whore!",he had called her. "WHORE!"
She remembered what had followed that foul, shocking word he had applied to her. "Put on a show for me! Pretend you enjoy it!" Her mind went back, to the countless times she had done just that. Oh, God, it all came back to her now! Her nights of fear, her memories of her father and her mother together-"Oh, God, Elon! Don t"
"Been giving it to everyone else, huh? And now you're plumb fuckered out!"-much of her life seemed to pass before her eyes in one blinding flash, the way it does before the eyes of a drowning person. It all came back, all those nights in which she had pretended to respond to her own husband.
She had been a whore!
But now, an immense feeling of relief welled up in her. She had been a whore, but she wasn't now. She had responded wholeheartedly to Mike, just as she had to Art. SHE WASN'T A WHORE! SHE WAS A WOMAN!
The guilt that had weighed so heavily on Sally for so long lifted like a burned off fog; her heart was light, her shame gone, and she lifted her head proudly. She had found herself at last, and she felt, in a sense, new-born. She was a real woman, a warm, loving sensual creature, just as Nature had intended.
She wanted to find Mike, to tell him, to beg him to forgive her for what she had done to him. Oh, not only the obscene performance with his best friend, Art,-oh, dear God! Could he ever forgive that? Could any man?-but all she had done to him, through all those years of her marriage. He had known, he had seen through her, and what he had done, with Kirst, had been a normal, frustrated man's reaction. It had been her fault, really, not his.
She shook her head, perplexed. A few hours before, she had considered her marriage over. She had vowed to herself never to see Mike again, never to speak to him, to blot him out of her life and her thoughts. Now, all her anger had vanished just as her guilt had. She knew she loved Mike, that she wanted to be a wife to him. A real wife, now. Not ... not that terrible thing he had called her. She took a deep breath and went out towards the library, looking for him.
She felt a moment's panic as she closed the door behind her. Surely Mike hated Art-"Loathed and despised him"-as she had said earlier. And the two were together now in the room beyond her. What were they doing? Just as she had imagined Mike dead, a few night's earlier, in her mind's eye she now saw Art's crumpled body stretched out on the library floor, blood flowing from the wounds Mike had inflicted. She covered her eyes with her hands, trying to hide from the horrible scene. At the library she paused, then, resolutely, opened the door.
The lights were glowing, and the hi-fi played soft music. Kirst, she noticed, was cuddled in the corner of the couch, playing cat's cradle with a bit of string she'd found. Mike and Art were sitting in easy chairs, each with a snifter of brandy in his hand, their heads together in earnest conversation. Friendly conversation, too, Sally thought with a sigh of relief.
They looked up as Sally entered, and Art got to his feet. "How about a drink?" he asked.
Sally nodded, too surprised to speak. Art handed her the brandy, then suggested "Sit down, Sally." He pointed to his own chair. "I guess you might want to talk to Mike."
"Yes," she said in a low voice.
"Kirst and I will leave you alone." He beckoned to her, and she followed him obediently into the next room.
"Mike, I ... I ... " Sally began, but Mike interrupted her.
"I was a bastard, Sally," he said wretchedly. "Calling you what I did." He sighed. "I was pretty upset, I guess."
"I don't blame you," Sally said. "Mike ... " again he interrupted.
"Jesus, honey, but you were a good fuck last night. Funny, isn't it? We've been married all these years, and I'm just finding out what a terrific woman you are." He grinned at her-the warm, friendly grin that had sold more insurance policies to more people than Sally cared to count-and added. "If it weren't so late, and if there weren't others around, I'd take you into the bedroom right now and screw you silly."
Sally felt a warm glow spread through her. "It's late," she agreed, but as for the other-well, a foursome can be fun, too. She tossed her head toward the living room. "What's happened to Kirst and Art?"
"Nothing, yet."
Sally looked alarmed. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, I forgot to tell you. Art wants to marry her."
"But she's just a kid!" Sally said.
Mike grinned at her sheepishly. "That's why Art wants to marry her," he said. Sally looked puzzled, and he went on to explain that they could both get into a lot of trouble. "There's that law, you know, about the age of consent. And Kirst's under that age. She's only fifteen-well, fifteen and a half. So Art and I thought it might be a good idea for him to marry her. No chances of trouble, that way."
"Getting married isn't going to make her any older," Sally pointed out. "She'll still be only fifteen and a half."
"Doesn't matter," Mike said. "Not as long as she's got that little piece of paper in her pocket that makes it all legal." He pondered on the peculiarities of the law. "Seems nutty, doesn't it? But that's the way it is."
He heard Art and Kirst talking in the next room. "We figured they'd better get the knot tied as soon as possible, too," he added. "Not here in Oregon; that's too difficult. They'll be taking off for Nevada pretty soon. And I guess we'd better be taking off for home."
He helped Sally into the light coat she'd been wearing, and they went out to the car. He started the motor, turned the vehicle around in the driveway, and headed back towards their house. As he drove he glanced over at his wife. God, he thought, she's a voluptuous woman. He could hardly wait to get her in the sack again. And the lascivious little grin that played around Sally's mouth told him she could hardly wait, herself ... maybe ... just maybe ... there really was a little bit of whore in her ... God, he hoped so with all his heart....