Chapter 4
Grace Edwards made a production of crossing her long, slightly muscular legs. Even though she appeared self-conscious about it, Boland knew instinctively that she thought they were attractive legs, legs she wanted him to notice and admire.
She had a way of gaining attention that way, then seeming to be apologetic about it.
"Ed," she said, "I-I don't know how to put this. You know how fond I am of you and how grateful. Seeing you take this business about Lilly so well got me to thinking. You were always talking about how blowing off steam worked so well for people in times of stress, and it occurred to me that maybe you had no one to blow off steam to."
"I've been busy," Boland said, "getting that damned master's thesis done. I want to get moving on things. I-I guess I don't have time for thinking about things."
"Have-have you heard anything from Lilly?"
Boland sighed and tried to address himself to the papers on his desk. "No," he said curtly. "Nothing more than a post card with an address on it. She's right near Los Angeles. Place called Burbank. She registered with the Board of Education and has been called to substitute twice.
They'll put her on a regular basis next semester, after the summer vacation. In the meantime, she's got a job selling ladies' cosmetics, door to door." Grace gave a throaty laugh. "Nothing more than a post card with an address on it. She must have a terribly small handwriting to cram all that in."
"Okay, okay," he said shortly, drawing large X's through test questions he was correcting. "You asked and I told you."
Grace's reaction was more laughter, a sure sign she was embarrassed and on shaky ground. Her leg began bobbing. "I'm sorry, Ed. It must be rough on you."
"I get by," he said.
"Do you?"
He looked up, exasperated. "Now what's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, Ed, I'm not exactly blind. No man could know as much about human relations as you do without being deeply involved in them."
Boland grunted. "There's a prime example of a sentence that rambles all over the place without saying anything. I give my kids hell for that. I call it platitude."
"All right," she said defensively. "I mean sex. You must have been carrying on some sort of a relationship with Lilly. Even to someone like me, who's more or less just discovered things, I know what it's like to do without. I-I broke off with the fellow I was dating. I feel sort of desolate, too."
"Go read a book."
"I have. I've read lots of books and taken long walks and searched my soul and done all sorts of things. When I realized what I had in mind, I felt strange. Suddenly, I didn't think I even had the nerve to approach you."
"You're here," Boland said, "That took something, obviously."
"And I feel I'm taking advantage of you." Uncertainly, she stood up. "I'm sorry, Ed. I guess I was using a subterfuge." She tapped a rolled up magazine in her hand. "This was my version of bringing a jar of chicken broth to the convalescent. There was something in here I thought might interest you. And-and I felt like talking. You've said you were never too busy to listen."
Yeah, Boland thought bitterly, and it's like a disease. But that was the trouble. People really meant something. You couldn't ignore a person in his or her time of need. Or if you could,, Ed Boland hadn't been able to figure out how to do it. "I'm sorry," he said guiltily. "I know how well you mean, Grace. What was it you wanted to talk about?"
"Sex," she said, meeting his glance with a certain defiance that had to pass for bravery. "I-well, I didn't know what to do with it, and now T don't know what to do without it."
"like the kid who discovers jellybeans, huh?"
"Almost. I-I guess I want a man. Harold, this boy I was going with, was so good in bed. Even when I began realizing things weren't going to work out with us, I tried not to believe it. We worked out so well. We hardly had to say a word. He'd just put his hand on me somewhere, and boom, there we were, undressing each other and going over to my bed. It always felt so good the way he touched me and caressed me. He knew a lot. We used different ways. I never realized how important it was for a woman to have a man who knew so much. If there has to be a Double Standard of behavior, this is certainly the solution. You see, even though it's over, I feel no bitterness. I haven't even been tempted to go back to those girls."
"That's a blessing," Boland said, "it would be a shame to do that after all the progress you've made on your own."
Was he imagining things or did she pounce on this? "I haven't been tempted, I said, but that doesn't mean I haven't thought about it. You know, some of them are pretty good."
"I don't know. I've never knowingly made love to one or been made love to by one."
"They can be tender and nice, too. They-they just do different things."
Boland grew angry. It was blackmail, that's what it was. "Grace, if you've got to have a relapse, the important thing is not to feel guilty about it."
She smiled. "I'd rather not even have the relapse." Mustering more boldness, she stood, striking a pose she'd probably practiced at home. Her firm bosom stood out in alluring relief. There was an interesting swell to her hips. Boland tried not to look at her this way, but it was difficult. In spite of himself, her talk had brought the subject into his mind. And, damn her, she was right. It didn't take much before the mind and body began crying out for something, for some response it had been used to, for a pleasure it looked forward to.
Grace approached him and put her hand on his shoulder. "You've been without for a long time, Ed. Over three weeks. You must be going wild inside. It's like suddenly being starved. And you've been so good to me, so kind. I'd like to repay it in some way. You know how I care for you. This doesn't have to be permanent, if you don't want it to. But think of the favor you'd be doing both of us. While I was reading today, I thought of the perfect analogy. You know how some of the farmers around here are paid not to plant crops? And some of the farm workers are unemployed because of it. It becomes an intolerable situation, producing nothing but waste." She placed her other hand on his shoulder and coyly began stroking his neck.
"So just like that, like a problem in geometry, it's all settled and now I should take you to bed."
"Not just like that, Ed. It would be good. We'd be doing each other a favor. How much more kind can two people be to each other?" Before Boland could answer, she bent to kiss him on the cheek. Boldly, she flicked out her tongue, leaving an exciting trail of moisture.
"Listen, Grace," he said, pushing away angrily, "people don't just decide to go to bed."
"How do they do it then?"
Boland felt trapped. "There has to be something more."
"With us there's something very noble and redeeming. Need. Human need. What's the point of anything if there has to be human need?"
"Oh, hell, Grace, leave me alone."
She stepped back stunned, as if he'd slapped her. Immediately, he felt a twinge of guilt. "I'm sorry, Grace. I didn't mean it that way." He stood up and moved next to her. His hand reached out to comfort her and in that moment, he was lost. She flung herself against him, catching him with a surprising impact. He barely managed his balance, but then both her arms were tightly wound about his neck, her hips virtually grinding against him. It was almost a parody of what he'd known with Lilly, but the feel of an eager, attractive woman against him was more, much more than he could safely tolerate.
The difference was Lilly's absence. The difference was the absence of love and reassurance that permits a man to look at another woman, to investigate her sexually in his mind, then remain perfectly faithful in fact and deed.
It was gone from Boland and before he could do anything, his body reacted and Grace became aware of it. A look of triumph came into her face a look that quickly changed into appreciation as she reached for him.
In less than a moment, they were lying on his small bed. Grace became quite excited and gave up on undressing after she'd removed her shoes. She lay back to accommodate him, arching her back and making a tent of her legs. She drew up her skirt and told him with more assurance, "you'll have to help me now."
Boland knew what she meant. He tugged at her pink panties, shucking them off her long legs, surprised at how attractive she was. She wore no stockings. There was no problem with a garter belt. He leaned forward to meet her.
"Please," she said, "let me. It's my great pleasure. I want to help all I can."
Ordinarily, this wouldn't have mattered too much to Boland But now, it took on a grim sort of symbolism for him as Grace Edwards became responsible for uniting their bodies. She began moving her hips, well and easily, obviously past her shyness, with him specifically and men in general.
Almost immediately, the glazed expression of passion on her face changed to excruciating registers of sensation and he knew she was close to a prolonged excitement.
She achieved satisfaction almost immediately and Boland thought to leave things like that. He was willing to move away, still aroused and hungry, but Grace Edwards seemed to sense this about him, too.
"Oh, please," she said. "Let me. You've been so kind and good to me. Let me do this for you." She did not wait for an answer or sign.
She moved against him with muscular spurts that soon brought his acuteness raging through him. When it was over, he moved away and lay next to her, the smallness of the bed making closeness a necessity. He felt her hand caressing his back and her voice became gentle. "You were good and wonderful," she said. "I hope I pleased you. Did you enjoy me?"
"Yes," he said.
"You've been so good to me. I wanted to very much. It's the least I could do. You have no idea how much I've dreamed about this, Ed. It can be so good with us and no strings. I understand everything. You have your work. You have your degrees. You have lots of important things."
Boland turned to regard her; she was content and looking womanly now that she was satisfied.
She fit the bill with one exception. There was no feeling of love. He shuddered a moment. In such cases, many women think closeness will bring about that feeling. It's a gamble they're willing to risk, especially when the man seems to be a good out from a lonely, unproductive, unsexed life. It was a particularly good alternate to returning to her homosexual ways.
Watching her smooth her dress down over her taut, lovely legs, Boland recognized another thing about her, also from his old text books. Hadn't he, in effect, acted like a counselor to her, a therapist, a psychologist? The books were full of situations where patients became fond of their doctor.
Boland shook his head. The miracle worker. The Sigmund Freud of Hurley, Minnesota. Already his first "patient" had a crush on him, a powerful sexual crush.
The thought of Nola Peddersen made him blanch. That would be absolutely too much. How did the doctors handle it? He had to find the way, fast. He knew he couldn't stop listening to people's problems. That was beyond him.
"Darling," Grace said, bounding off the bed, "I really did mean it when I said I had something for you to see." She picked the rolled-up magazine from his desk. "It's an educational quarterly read by teachers and educators," she said.
"It's filled with articles."
"It also has advertising in it," Grace said. "There's one in particular I thought you'd like." She thumbed to the rear pages. The ad she had in mind was between men's underwear with a built in stomach support and a book on how to deal with problem children. "The Parsons School of Professional Home Study," the ad read. "Offering advanced degrees in most fields in a palatable, easy to digest manner. Why be robbed of the pick of the good jobs when Master's and Ph.D. degrees can be obtained by this simple method." The address was in Minneapolis.
"I don't get it," Boland said.
"You're going to, Ed. The simple way to get your master's degree. Home study."
"That's impossible."
"Is it? Think for a minute. Who else do you know who has a Ph.D. from Parsons?"
"Why, no one. I've never even heard of the place before."
"Of course you have. Herb Havelock has his Ph.D. in administration from Parsons."
"You're mistaken. Herb's degree is from the University of Minnesota."
"Look again, darling. Herb Havelock was lucky not to get booted out of there as an undergraduate, much less with a doctorate."
Boland was shaken. "You're dead wrong, Grace. Herb has a distinguished academic record. Why, in all the ceremonies, he has the most distinguished robes. He has a degree from a European school-"
"Darling, you forget Herb's family owns a dairy, a men's clothing store, and a construction company. They could afford to send him to Europe. And after you name off the handful of distinguished European schools, what have you got left? Not very much. Herb's master's degree comes from a school in Spain. Spain is a poor country. Herb is a wealthy American. The Spanish admire wealthy Americans who wants academic honors. For a price, they were willing to bestow a great honor on Herb. That bright academic gown he wears represents an investment of over ten thousand dollar.,."
"Okay, so he had all the luck. I still haven't got my master's degree yet, and how the hell can I get to Minneapolis?"
Grace leaned over him, breathing heavily on his ear. Before he could react, her tongue moved out, probing the inner part of his ear. Dazzling jabs of sensation shot through him as Grace moved down on top of him, her body moving ever so slightly against him, her hand investigating his condition. "Herb Havelock had certain advantages, Ed, but I don't want you to underestimate your own."
"Grace, what are you talking about?"
She deftly lifted her leg over his body. The sight of it, flexed and well sculpted, was at once frightening and exciting. She was showing an unusual talent for accommodation. Her maneuvering joined them in a brief moment. "You have nothing to worry about, Darling. I owe you much as it is. Why don't you just lay back and enjoy the ride? In a while, it will be Dr. Ed Boland they'll be calling you. How do you like the sound of that, Ed Boland, Ph.D.?"
There was a sensual, appreciative smile on her face as she pressed forward. A slight, involuntary gasp of pleasure escaped from her pursed lips. "And if anyone wants to know what kind of a fine man you are, darling, I'll be happy to help out."