Chapter 6
Brad looked at carol in surprise when she came out of her room at six o'clock the next morning.
"What's the matter?" she asked. She felt rested, better as well as she could feel after the nightmare she'd endured with Herb. Inside she was cold and dead, like a recording of hatred that went around and around on the same subject, unable to concentrate on anything except hatred.
"You," he said. He gave her a warming smile. "First, I hardly recognized you. Dry, you look almost human. And, too, I thought maybe you'd change your mind last night."
Carol frowned. "About what?"
He grinned. "About going on to Bluetown. No sense kidding ourselves. You made up your mind to go to Bluetown when I named it."
"That's still where I want to go."
Brad shrugged. "It's still your ticket."
"If you don't want to take me with you, you can leave me here. I'll catch a bus."
He shook his head. "Come on, I'll buy you a breakfast. You'll feel better after you've eaten. You might even feel half as good as you look."
She did not reply. She saw now that she had registered with Brad. He saw the rise of her breasts, the firm way they stood out in the pale beige dress she wore. He saw the slender tapering of her legs to trim ankles in high-heeled shoes. He saw the luster in her hair, brushed and held in place with a spray. He liked what he saw.
She followed him into the motel restaurant where he was greeted familiarly by the employees. She was thinking that he hadn't been impressed by her last night, but the way his gaze kept straying back to the softness of her lips, the high stand of her breasts, told her he was looking at her today.
She asked herself coldly, why not? They're all alike, aren't they like dogs with the scent?
She said she wanted black coffee and toast for breakfast, but Brad only laughed at her. Not after last night, Carol. I don't know what happened. I'm not prying. But I do know you need a good breakfast. It gives the world a better glow."
He ordered a breakfast steak, an egg, hash-brown potatoes, toast, orange juice and coffee for both of them.
"How do you think I grew to be such a healthy big boy?" he said. "Big breakfasts. My mom insists."
"I'm sorry you ordered it," she said coldly. "I won't be able to eat it. I don't want it."
He smiled and didn't answer. The waitress brought orange juice. Brad lifted his glass in a toast, "Here's to Bluetown."
She took a sip of the juice, and then drank the rest of it.
He talked easily, casually, about his job, his schooling, the things he liked to do when he managed to get a couple of weeks off every year.
"You ever go camping?"
"No."
"You'd like it." He launched into a long discussion of camping in the Maine north woods. He had done this once with his father and a guide, and he'd always wanted to go back. He talked about the smell of the pines, the lakes, the coffee and bacon cooking in the early mornings, the sun on the water, the way the fish struck, the way the deer and the other animals came down to water. He ate as he talked, and she nibbled at her food, too. Suddenly she was ravenously hungry, and she finished her breakfast long before he did, her plate cleaned up. He smiled at her but did not mention it.
She felt her heart turn over, thinking that if she were not so filled with hatred, Brad was the sort of man she could have loved the kind she had always dreamed of meeting.
She felt ill. She had to forget the warmth of Brad's lopsided smile, the excitement about him when he talked. She could never forget again what men really were like behind their smiling faces they were all Mort and Herb.
She shivered.
"What's the matter, Carol?" Brad asked.
"Nothing." She shook her head. How could she tell him that she was wishing he would hurry and make a pass at her, show her that he was no different from the others so she could get him out of her mind.
He carried her bag out to his car, and then went into his own room, got his own luggage. He stacked them in the rear of his car.
She saw that he was taking too much time because he was still waiting for her to change her mind and decide to return home.
"I thought you were in a hurry to get to Blue-town," she said.
He gave her an odd look, then got in the car. He started it and drove out to the highway. He turned toward Bluetown, stepping hard on the gas.
"You got people in Bluetown?" he asked after they'd driven twenty miles in silence.
"No."
"City of a half-million people. It's not a small town, not like the place you came from."
"You don't have to wory about me," she said. "No. I don't have to."
She clenched her fists to stop their trembling. Why did he have to pretend to be kindly? Why must he try to hide what he was really like inside?"
She turned a little on the seat, forcing her skirt to ride high above her knees. She glanced down secretively, saw the golden flesh of her thigh that would meet his eyes if he looked away from the road.
She left her leg that way.
It will happen, she assured herself. In a moment he will put his hand over on my leg, the way Herb did, and he won't stop as Herb had refused to stop.
She saw that he was aware of her leg bared to him, all right. He did not pretend that he wasn't human. It was just that he did not make any overt pass, though she saw that he was pleased by the loveliness exposed to him.
Come on, she dared him in her mind, prove to me what a monster you are. I don't want to remember you as a good guy when I get out of this car in Bluetown. I want to hate you, just as I hate Herb and all the rest. Look at me! Touch me! Make your play!
She saw that he was keeping both hands on the steering wheel, and for the most part he kept his eyes on the road ahead. She decided angrily that the challenge wasn't strong enough.
She smiled inwardly, thinking she would increase the pressure on him. Getting him and his kindliness out of her mind was as important as anything that could happen to her. She wanted to hate him because hating him would make him easy to forget.
"You mind if I take a nap?" she asked, making her voice sexy with sleepiness.
"No. Go ahead. You want to get in the back seat so you can be more comfortable?"
"No, this is fine," she said in that drowsy tone, "I like it up here by you."
She lay back, putting her head on the seat rest, keeping her arms at her sides. She closed her eyes and arched her back-just enough to make her upright breasts jut out that much more.
Pleased, she heard the whisper of sound as he caught his breath. She waited, but he did not touch her.
She began to hate him because he refused to respond to her bait. She shifted her legs, keeping her eyes closed as if she were asleep, but this time xposing more of the warm inner thigh to him. She let her head slide over against the door, lying with her legs toward him, her skirt high.
She knew he slowed the car. It was not an appreciable decrease in speed, but at least he had lost his anxiety to get to Bluetown by nine a.m. She parted one lid enough to peek at him, and she saw his face was faintly flushed. He was human, all right, and her pressure was having its effect on him.
She shifted her legs again for him, giving him a newer and better view than ever. Again the car slowed slightly and she wondered how long it would be before he suggested that they stop and spend the the rest of the day in one of the motels along the highway.
She made faint sounds, as if she were deeply asleep. She moved on the seat so that one knee was touching his leg. When he drew away, she whimpered a low protest. She moved her knee and touched his leg again.
This time he did not move away.
She kept her face expressionless, but inwardly she smiled in a cold way. She was getting to him.
She shivered, thinking that she was tempting him. The pressures on him were terrific: her dress was high along her thighs, her legs turned toward him, parted, her head back and her breasts drawing the fabric of her bodice taut. She had never done this before, never even thought of it, and there was no sense of desire in her there was nothing but the hatred that possessed her, that had possessed her since Herb had attacked her last night. She hated all men, and all she wanted was to make Brad behave as those other animals behaved, so that she could see that inwardly he was an animal just like them, and she could despise him, and detesting him, she could forget him.
She stayed like that on the seat beside him until the increase of traffic outside the car and the morning heat warned her they were entering Bluetown.
Brad had looked at her, his gaze had been awed and admiring, but he had not risen to her bait. He had not touched her!
She stretched, yawning, and sat up. She looked down at her dress, saw that it was high above her knees, and she caught her breath as if shocked. "Oh, my goodness, my dress," she said.
She heard his mild sigh, but he did not speak.
She looked all around, seeing the city ahead of them. "I feel ever so much better now," she said.
"I'm glad." His tone was low, flat.
She glanced at him, seeing that he was no longer smiling, that a chill had displaced the warmth that characterized him.
"What's the matter?" she asked. "You."
"What are you talking about."
"You don't know anybody in this town. It's not like that place back there ... "
"I hope not."
" ... and I don't think it's going to be as easy for you to get settled here as you seem to think it is."
"I'll be all right."
"Sure, I'll let you out at some street corner, and then I'm supposed to go merrily off to work and forget all about you."
"Why not? I'm nothing to you."
"Look," he said. "Will you do me a favor? Just one? After all, I brought you up here to Bluetown."
Here it comes, she told herself, the proposition. He's going on the make now.
"What is it?" she said.
Her fists were clenched in her lap. She was no longer even able to get excited or pleased by anything a man said or did, she was so devoured by her hatred.
"Well, I'd like for you to stay at this hotel where I stay while I'm in Bluetown. I'll get you a room there. It's a nice place, respectable, and I know the people who run it. They'll look out for you. Then tonight, after I'm through working, I'll take you out to dinner. You can stay there until you find a job, or get settled or decide to go back home."
"I'm never going back there."
"Okay. Is it a deal? You'll let me get you a room, so I'll know where you are? We'll have dinner together tonight?"
"Sure," she said in that sexy tone. "If that's what you want."
He knocked on her hotel room door that night at seven. She had been ready for an hour. He looked her over with pleasure. He took her down to the hotel dining room for dinner. They made a fine-looking couple, she saw. People stared at them.
"How do you like the town?" Brad asked.
"Fine. I'm going to be all right. I'm sure I can get a job. I'm a pretty good typist."
"Maybe I can help you."
"You don't have to."
"I want to."
"You didn't take me to raise."
"I'll feel better knowing you have a job."
"I told you. I'm all right. Stop acting like a big brother."
He smiled, looking her over. "Believe me, I don't feel like a brother."
"No man ever does," she said flatly. "Not for very long."
He frowned. "What is it, Carol? You're too young to sound so bitter."
"You're never too young. Men all believe that, too, don't they?"
"You really have been hurt, haven't you?"
She felt a sudden urge to burst into aching tears, but she said sharply, "I'm all right. I told you. Talk about something else, or I'll leave."
Brad grinned at her. "You're not going anywhere--at least, not until after you eat. I watched you at breakfast. I know what kind of appetite you have. One more question and I promise no more talk about you or your welfare."
"Then ask it fast."
"Do you have enough money to tide you over until you find a job?"
"Yes! I told you! I'm all right! Stop worrying about me."
"Okay. I'm going out of town tomorrow night. But I'll be back in a week. I want you to leave your address if you move out of town or find another place to stay here. You promise?"
"How many questions is that?"
"That's not about your welfare. It's about mine. I want to be able to find you when I get back here, and this is a big city."
"I'll leave my address for you."
"You're a lovely girl when you smile, did yon know that?"
"Did I smile?"
"Well, it wasn't much of a smile, but it was pretty good for a start."
When they had finished dinner, they danced to the music of the hotel orchestra. When Brad held her in his arms, Carol had to fight her emotions to keep from trembling or shrinking away from his touch.
"Want to go out somewhere?" he asked.
"I'd rather go back to my room," Carol said. "I'm too tired to go out anywhere."
"Oh? Bored with me already?"
"No. I didn't say that you couldn't come back to my room with me. Wouldn't you like that?" He looked at her.
"Well, would you like that?" she insisted.
"I'd like it, maybe too much," he said. "I better warn you, Carol, I'm only human."
"Are you?" she asked. "I'd begun to give up thinking that. That's why I asked you up there. You wouldn't ask me, and I was getting tired waiting for you to be yourself."
He smiled at her. "Come on," he said. "You haven't been out of my mind for five minutes all day."
"You haven't been out of mine, either," she told him; but she neglected to add that it was because he had resisted her, and because she didn't believe he was that noble, or righteous. It was all an act, she was certain, and she was tired of the act.
He put his arm around her waist when they were alone in the elevator. She told herself this was more what she expected of him, and she tried to relax, but felt herself growing tense as his hand moved slowly upward until it touched tentatively at the under-bulge of her high, firm breast. There was no excitement in her, only the cold chill that told her that soon now she would see Herb and Mort gazing out of Brad's eyes.
She trembled, wanting to scream out her hatred. It was not her fault she was not capable of loving, only of hating. She knew that if she could have loved any man, it would have been Brad. But she walked close beside him, not wanting to love him, wanting only to see him wild and bestial in passion, the way she had learned all men must be.
Brad escorted her along the corridor to her room. He unlocked her door and, when they stepped inside, he turned and pulled her close and kissed her. She would not permit her mind to dwell on the good, manly smell of him, the firm warmth of his lips. His mouth covered hers and the pressure increased, and his hand cupped her breast. She almost cried out as the horror of Herb came back to her abruptly, as if he were sharing this room with them.
"Why are you doing this?" he said.
"Don't you want to?"
"Are you just grateful? Do you think you have to?"
"Don't I?"
"Good lord, you mean you think this is why I brought you here."
"Isn't it?"
He laughed out loud. "Well, if that's what yon think, good night."
He released her, and she felt a sudden chill. Her body was betraying her. This was the first man she'd ever truly wanted even if her desire was all confused with hatred.
"No," she caught his hand, clinging to it. "Please don't go, Brad. I don't want you to."
"Well, that's better," he said, smiling down at her. "Now that I know, at least, that you really want me to stay."
"Oh, I do," she said, and she was honest enough to admit that this was only partly a lie.
He put out his arms to her and she moved closer to him. He put his hands under her arms, closing them around her waist, and drew her body up against his. He kissed her and she felt his hands gliding slowly down over the hillocks of her hips. He held her like this for some moments, his mouth over hers, his hands gently but firmly moving her hips against him.
Her breath quickened. He was like Herb and so unlike him! Brad knew what he wanted. He was experienced, all right, but he made the love-making something to be shared. He wanted her to feel the pleasurable tingling when he caressed her breasts. He didn't need to hurt her to get his kicks.
As Brad moved her body against his, he half-danced them across the carpeting to her bed. He pulled her tightly upon him, kissing her harder than ever. His hands closed on her breasts and she felt her head swimming. He released her and she toppled on her back across the bed. She lay there and stared up at him through half-lidded eyes.
She watched him remove her shoes, one at a time, and toss them behind him. Then he reached upward, moving his palms along the smooth warmth of her thighs. He loosened her stockings and rolled them down. He left her dress pushed high up on her thighs and for a moment gazed down at her exposed legs in enjoyment.
She raised herself as if he had spoken a command and she were acting obediently. He pulled off her dress and tossed it across a chair. She lay back then and let him admire her alluring breasts in the transparent webbing of her pale pink bra, and the inviting curves inside the matching panties.
"Beautiful," he whispered. "Even more beautiful than today in the car."
"What about today in the car?"
He grinned at her. "Let's not talk about that. Let's just say I haven't thought about anything except your fantastic breasts and incomparable legs all day. And suddenly here they are, and I can look at them."
He ran his hand up her legs and across her hips to the top of her panties, and she quivered.
"Don't you want me to take them off?" he asked.
"Isn't it a little late to wonder if I want my pants on or off?" she asked.
"It's pretty late," he agreed. "But it's speak now or never.
"I've got nothing to say," she told him. She was trembling, and she was thinking that this was what pleasurable sex should be, mutual enjoyment only she felt nothing of the sort. Pleasure was dead in her.
She felt the faint trembling of Brad's fingers as he caught the top of her waistband and drew her pink panties down, peeling them off her hips, along her thighs. He held them a moment in his fist, his face flushed, and then he tossed them away. She parted her legs slightly, letting him feast his eyes on her nakedness while she took off her bra.
"Are you glad you stayed?" she asked.
"Good grief," he whispered.
"You can have it," she said. "All you want."
She saw him respond to her brazen invitation, the wanton promise of all of his lusts fulfilled. He straightened and exhaled heavily, trembling with desire.
She was amazed at the way she was able to pretend desire for him. She had never behaved this way with any man, and the only two men who had ever had her would not let her enjoy it, they did not care about her. Now she had tempted this man, brought him up here, allowed him to undress her and stare hungrily at her nakedness. It was as if she had always behaved this way, and she even wondered if this was what Brad would think. She did not care. After tonight, he would mean nothing to her, less than nothing.
She watched him undress, and despite her cold hatred for all men, she was not thinking about Herb or Mort as he removed his clothing and she saw how terribly he wanted her, how magnificently he was built. She was excited at the sight of him.
She felt her hips squirm involuntarily.
Her face flushed red at the thought. She couldn't like this! She hated it!
But he had seen the way she wriggled with anticipation, and she saw the passion rise in him even more.
He moved to the bed and got in beside her. He parted her golden legs and snuggled closer, closer, until exquisite pain burned through her, and her head rolled back and forth on the pillow, and she cried out, "Oh, Brad! Take me! Love me!
It was agony and it was ecstasy, all at once. It was warmth that increased to boiling, and still grew hotter and hotter. The excitement in her would not be denied. The churning passions swirled around and around, catching her up in the spell. She flung her arms about him, pushing her hands up his back and digging her fingers into the flesh between his neck and his shoulders.
She tired, but she couldn't resist the delight that he was creating within her, loving her as no other man ever had, as she had never even dreamed she could be manipulated in her wildest and most secret fantasies.
She forgot where she was, or how she had come to be in this place. There was no reality about this hotel, or about this city of a half-million strangers where tomorrow she must begin her new life out of the wreckage of the old.
But for the moment she could not force her mind to care about yesterday or tomorrow. There was only this moment and the savagery of the passion he aroused in her.
He worked faster and she seemed to spin upward off the bed, off the earth itself, going higher and higher, faster and faster, through the clouds, beyond the pull of the earth's gravity, and then there was an explosion as if the rocket she rode had been blown apart in a million fragments and she went hurtling outward in uncontrollable ecstasy.
At that moment, though, she opened her eyes wide, staring up at this man who could use her body with such ease and so perfectly.
She caught her breath, gasping.
Brad was carried out of himself, too, lifted beyond the farthest reach of reason. He was made of lust and wild, unbridled craving at this moment, and they all showed in his face. This wildness made his face like Herb's had been, as Mort's had been so long ago full of lust, uncaring about anything except the satisfaction of that lust the flushed, savage face of a beast.
She cried out.
"What's the matter?" he gasped in surprise.
She pulled away from him, abruptly. "Nothing."
"Why did you yell like that?"
She shuddered and shook her head. She could never tell him.
"What do you care?" Her voice was cold again now. "You've had what you wanted, haven't you?"
He laughed. "No. Not yet."
"Then get it over with."
"What's the matter with you, Carol? You can't act like this an angel one moment and a witch the next. What have I done?"
"Nothing. Just get through with me. Take whatever you want, and then get out of here."
"I can't leave you like this."
"You've got to."
"This is a hell of a way to act."
"I can't help it. It's the way I am. If you're through you can get out now."
He stared at her, and his eyes darkened. He was human enough to get angry, too, she saw. The rage boiled up in him. It was nothing that he could understand, but if she was going to act like this, he could be just as hard to get along with.
"No," he said in a hard voice. "There's something else I want, and I'm going to have it before I go."
She shrugged. "It wouldn't do me any good to fight you, would it?"
"I'd even hope that you wouldn't fight or want to fight."
"Well, you can't have everything, can you?"
Brad drew a deep breath. "I thought I did tonight, until you started acting like this. I thought you might want to do something for me. But now I've made up my mind that you're going to, whether you want to or not."
His hands caught her head on each side of her face. He held her immobile in his strong fingers. He pushed her downward on the bed, edging himself upward at the same time to meet her What he wanted burned into her mind. It was what Mort had forced her to do, what Herb had done to her when he tired of everything else.
She shook her head. She had never been permitted to choose whether she would do this or not. And now again she was being ordered.
She whispered, "No, please don't make me do that now."
Stiffening his arms, he pushed her lower upon him. "I want it," he told her. "I'm going to have it."
"I won't do that."
"You will, too."
"No, oh, no, Brad, please."
"Take it," he said. There was no weakening in his tone. She struggled a moment, and then she stopped struggling and obeyed his command.
The following day, Brad returned to the hotel at seven o'clock. He was smiling in anticipation, wild with excitement. He had been unable to get Carol out of his mind. All day as he worked, he went back in thoughts to what she had done for him, and the way she had changed suddenly. He reached a conclusion about her. She had been deeply hurt, badly misused. She mistrusted love, and could not give herself completely because someone had taken her in savagery. He hated himself because he had forced her to do things to please him when she made him mad. Well, he'd tell her he understood now, and now he could be gentle with her.
He would teach her what love was. Because one thing was vividly clear in his mind. He was not going to forget her easily. He had had her one night, and he wanted her again and again.
This girl was habit-forming.
She was young, and she had been hurt. He would make her forget the hurt. He would help her to put the evil, whatever it was, out of her mind. There was no ceiling to how high they could soar together in each other's arms.
He rapped again and again on her door. There was no reply. He spoke her name against its facing, but he got no answer.
He touched the knob and the door opened slowly, swinging in on an empty room. Carol was gone.
His heart pounding, Brad strode into the room. All her belongings were gone. There was nothing left of her.
He picked up the phone, got the desk clerk.
"Did she leave any forwarding address?" he asked.
"I'm sorry," the desk clerk said. "She moved and left no forwarding address at all, Mr. Livingston."
As though terribly weary, Brad replaced the receiver.
He walked slowly along the corridor to his room, thinking about her, mixed-up, hurt, confused and alone in this big city. He had no idea where to start to look for her.
He inserted his key in the door of his room, but his door, too, was unlocked.
Astonished, he checked to see if it was the right number. A man's voice said. "This is the right room, Livingston. The hotel detective let us in to wait for you. Come on in."
Scowling, Brad stepped into his room. One of the men pushed at the door, closing it. He was short and stocky. The other man was slender, well over six feet tall. He said, "I'm Brenning, and this is Sergeant Dedrich. We're from the police, Livingston."
"What do you want with me?"
"A little matter of rape, Livingston."
"What?"
"Do you know a girl named Carol Hill."
"Where is she? Can I see her?" Dedrich laughed. "Seems to me you've seen that jail-bait once too often already, fella."
"Jail-bait?"
"She's only seventeen, or didn't you know that?" Brad stared at them. He shook his head. He did not say anything.
"You ready to go?" Brenning asked.
"Go where?"
"Maybe the electric chair, eventually, fella," Dedrich said. "That's the penalty for rape in this state. Or maybe if you're lucky, you'll get life imprisonment. Come on, let's go."
"This doesn't make sense! I didn't rape her!"
"She was raped, all right. She says you did it. Now, come on, let's go. Maybe you don't understand it now, but you'll have plenty of time to think it over where you're going."