Chapter 3
High tide being driven in by the wind presented an awesome sight along the shore. As he cruised up the north side of Durasett Beach, Maurice heard the waves pound against rocks and sand nearby. The moonlight gave illumination to the frothy, angry whitecaps that smashed the seawall and splattered fifty feet in the air.
A few minutes later he parked the Renault in front of her wood cottage near a cove. It was the most secluded spot he could imagine.
He cursed and got out onto the weeds of her yard. Marching across toward the porch, he knew he didn't give a tinker's dam about any prying eyes, because this was plenty far from civilization and the gotham. His last qualm vanished when he reasoned that only a true man could answer the challenge put out by Ida.
Seventeen years old or not, she had the maturity and the independence to be responsible for what had been initiated.
He stalked into the frame cottage as if he owned it. Her radio resounded with discotheque music, and she sat up easily on the divan when she saw him enter.
Leaving the door open behind him, Maurice said, "It's a relief to get to this joint safe and sound. The roads wind in and out from-"
"You poor guy," she teased. "I thought I gave pretty fine directions on the phone before when you called. Well-sit down!"
Somewhere along the line of her full life she had become spoiled. "I'd rather take a dip in the ocean first, if you don't mind."
"Really-I believe you're a muscular he-man. Honest I do. Besides, I'm so tired from school that even wading would be too strenuous."
"Up and at 'em!" He picked her up in his arms and lugged her outside to the beach, where she began squirming frantically. He set her on her feet again. They strolled together, hands entwined, past the cove and in a huge circle back to her cottage.
This time Ida slammed the door shut with a vengeance. He feared that his brown hair, thin as it was, would curl with lust as she stripped the sweater off her body. The radio was playing Brazil rhythm in a samba beat. She hurled the soft pullover sweater into a corner and said, "Make it everything I've dreamed about for years, Maurie. Gentle and cruel. Sweet like wine...."
"I'll show you the things age has taught me."
"Yes, daddy."
She was a hunk of pulsating, boiled flesh in his arms. He stroked her back and twisted his virility upon her until he felt the throb of power clanging against his skull. Her lips pursed upward to meet his. He drank of the virgin nectar and felt his hands going to her lips, even as he kissed the pale, blue-veined skin of her straining neck.
Two clopping noises told him her shoes were off. She kept her mouth welded upon his as she unbuttoned the capri pants and let the air rush upon her.
"Let me see every inch of you," he gasped.
"Hurry, darling! We're both adults and whatever we do in private is our business. Morals of any other kind don't exist."
He laughed but deep inside he despised her for throwing a rule-book at him at this vital, surging moment. "I like your own original standard." He watched her step out of the capris and then he peeled his clothes off until there remained just the jockey shorts.
"I guess you dig my panties," she said. "Do they turn you on? I call them 'peekaboo through the fish-net'."
"You should issue a telescope so I can see 'em. So goddamn tiny!"
She hooked her thumbs under the elastic and rolled the flimsy net panties down over her knees. He helped her get rid of the bra by shucking it quickly away from her breasts.
"You're puffing," she needled. "Maybe this will give you a heart attack."
"That's about as funny as leprosy."
They were both naked now, and flailing about on the foamy softness of the cot where they had fallen. Ida became a tigress with one driving thought. She kissed him from the hair on his chest down to the hairs on his thighs and abdomen, as he whimpered with dormant passion. His every nerve and bone and sinew felt taut under the sizzling outburst of sensuousness from this young devil.
"Ellen couldn't hold a candle to you in bed," he croaked. "Jumping toads, I'm ready to blow my top! Sweetest Ida-"
"Forget the other woman."
He heard the willow tree shaking outside the cabin as a blast of wind hit it. He kissed her breasts and fondled her thighs until she lay arched beneath him like a bowstring. "I like you," she tittered. "You're dependable and kind."
"A regular boy scout. Whether you feel affection for me or not is beside the point. You'll see what I mean."
"I can't see a darn thing!" she screamed with joy as he found her waiting receptable of love.
Her shrill, ecstatic cries were like death shouts of agony in the moment of his penetration. But her triumph and pleasure soon overwhelmed the pain of shattered maidenhood. She had been so athletic in her playful resistance. And yet, as he rocked and swayed to gain the fullest height of union, she slithered with his movements in docile acceptance.
The gas lantern's light wavered about him. He licked the foam off his lips and rolled aside, feeling her body quiver with even, rhythmic reaction while his arm rested upon her.
A voice inside him whispered "rape" and he acknowledged that it was technically correct. He felt Ida kissing his hips again with unconscious fervor. She had relished the hour of decision. Here was a female to be trusted and loved and cherished, as she would cherish him for being the first man.
She started singing in a weird, muted tone. The sound brought hackles to his spine due to the ethereal, unreal quality she projected. Her body was genuine enough, though, pressing against him in a blatant nakedness that required no conversation.
John DiCauslow leaned back in the seat of his Falcon and propped the yearbook against the steering wheel and his lap. He wondered why they had published such a bulky, heavy tome. Thumbing through the pages, he found the one with his picture on it.
He had changed very little in two years; same Roman nose, same carnal lips and eyes-maybe he had grown a little chunkier around the double chin.
His name stood out underneath. JOHU DiCAUSLOW, with the boldness conceived by a high school editor. John nudged the girl beside him in the car. She coughed and started putting her brassiere on again, moulding it around her ample breasts.
"Listen to what they wrote about me," said John. "He'll never suffer from repression or introvertism. Has unlimited knowledge and exists for today because an H-bomb bursts in the hereafter. Isn't that a scream, Yvette?"
The girl stroked her naked thighs, smiling in obvious pride as the curvaceousness of her entire chassis. "I hope they also mention how you go around seducing us poor chicks. The logical arguments you use...."
"And get this. John's an epicurean and empiricist from the word go."
"Hey, are you trying to make me feel dumb or what?"
"It means I pursue the pleasures around us." He slammed the book shut and then stretched his solid, hefty frame while yawning toward the roof of the auto. "Let's talk about the prof. You're sure you'll go through with the bit after I kick it off. I mean, you did promise-"
Yvette Thober fluttered her eyelids and stared at him with her shiny blue orbs. "You know I'd travel to the ends of the earth for you, John."
He wanted to trust her completely but realized that was unwise. She despised the idea of playing second fiddle to Ida. Only because she hoped to win John for herself alone had Yvette agreed to this plot against the English teacher. John understood exactly how far she could be trusted.
He gunned the motor and lurched away from their parking spot alongside the lake. It was a favorite passion pit for the kids from Milltown U. He smiled, feeling his veins still athrob from the wild coitus he had enjoyed with the girl. She demanded an awful lot for her services. At least she wouldn't get knocked up from tonight's session, though-he had made certain of that. For a math major she didn't seem to pay much attention to the inevitable results within the female reproductive system when you put two and two together.
As he cruised eastward, toward the city, he thought about the small grocery store which he and Yvette had taken. It was so damn easy. The old coot never knew what hit him, a pair of masked bandits walk in and grab the contents of the register. John patted the bulge of money in his pocket now and felt more secure.
"This'll pay for the rest of my tuition," he said. "And you've got enough for dresses to last you until doom's day."
"Gosh, I hope the geezer's all right."
"He'll wake up in half an hour or so. You should learn to stop fretting about the little things, Yvette, and think big. They don't have a chance of pinning the rap on us. College youths are the last ones any cop or detective would suspect, on such a professional heist."
"You're so modest. That's what I like about you."
She leaned over and planted a kiss upon his full, brooding mouth. He played with her breasts for a while as he drove one-handed past the tenement district in town.
When they reached the movie house, he let her off and jerked a thumb at the marquee. "Relax and get your kicks from it, huh? I'll pick you up at 9:30 after my business is done."
"Monkey business," she said.
"We have to set Maurice up as a clay pigeon! Worry not, my love."
There were several tricks he could use on the prof. Any of them would accomplish the purpose of hurting him and keeping him away from Ida for good. Already John had decided on the first violent step he would take.
He stopped at Bill's luncheonette, a sleazy dive on the main drag-about six blocks from the campus and one of Ida's hangouts. She always dropped off here on Sunday night for a snack. He waited at a corner table, sipping his coffee as he meditated. The waitress, a large-breasted redhead, kept eyeing him with lust but he ignored the invitation because he knew her and had slept with her once too often. Poorly educated divorcees bored him.
Ida Reneson finally entered the restaurant and sat in a booth near the door. He strutted over to her side. "Hi, doll. Fancy meeting such a nice kid in a greasy spoon like this."
"Your humor is deathless prose that will live forever."
"Always trying to top me with some clever slogan." He eased into the seat, resting his elbows on the table. "I got the busy signal on your phone the last couple of times. Please elucidate."
Ida scowled, then looked up at the waitress. "A vanilla milk-shake."
"Ditto for me." John narrowed his eyes, studying the coed's pale flesh and the excitement of her well-proportioned body. "At least you haven't thrown me out of the booth."
"It's 'Be Kind to Animals' month."
"Funny. You know something, Ida-I think you and I should start going steady again. We make one hell of a duet-"
"We ended it for good. Remember?"
"I can't get along on the scraps of a Saturday date every fortnight or so. I need you like grass needs the rain."
She shifted uncomfortably and snapped, "You're way too forward and sexy for my taste, John. Maybe that approach helps you as a house-to-house canvasser. But I look for deeper character in a boy."
"A man," he corrected. "The vacuum cleaner selling is just part-time. Let's try the frat pin and see what happens."
"I said you're too rough! It scares me to see the shady hoods you consort with."
He smirked. "You don't judge a book by the cover."
"Forget it."
"I'm sure if you think the situation over, you'll admit that I'm the best one to choose from."
Ida arose and plunked a half-dollar on the mahogany. "You can have both milk-shakes. Nice pass. Too bad it threw you for another loss, honey."
He dug at his teeth with an index finger as he watched her move out toward the street. Anger rose in a shivering burr across his throat. She enjoyed rejecting people. So "holier-than-thou" about sex, when he knew she wanted him desperately behind the hard-to-get facade. She ought to be happy that he considered her worthy of marriage instead of a quick pick-up, like most of the other soeds he dated.
John slammed his palm on the leather-cushioned seat. It was that clown Maurice, the teach. She had a thing for him and no progress could be made until they straightened the old bastard out.
Grimly John saw there was only one way to prove he meant business. At noon-time on the following day he started roving through the campus in search of his quarry. He drew a blank at the faculty office and gym and cafeteria, but hit pay-dirt outside, near the football field.
A few soccer play.-s were practicing on the otherwise deserted gridiron. He hurried across the yard and soon caught up to Maurice, who had wandered down the chalked sidelines enroute to the dorms.
He spun around, folding his arms tolerantly. "To what do I owe the honor of another visit from Mr. Brains DiCauslow?"
"Thanks for the nickname," John nodded. "It means you've done some checking and found out I was on the Dean's List."
"We both have ranking on one list or another."
"Take the chip off your shoulder, teach. I think we ought to know each other better. I'll walk with you."
"It's a free country." Maurice had his hands in his pockets as he moved toward the shadow of the huge dorm building. "The dean has no law against fraternization among the troops."
"Your respect for the law is very touching, you know. But the great men in history got that way through disobedience of authority-creation of their own code." He paused, then continued in his deep, resonant voice. "You're from Hartford originally."
"Correct. At the age of seventeen I moved to Providence, got my bachelor's, and then settled in Milltown."
"You were brought up with a normal environment, I realize that. On the other hand, my child- hood encouraged juvenile delinquency. No parents or guardian. No job future in the hick town where I lived. It would have been easy to rebel and turn anti-social against the world."
Maurice laughed and said, "Life must have been frustrating for such a talented kid as you. But I'm-uh-anxious to find the connection."
"Connection, teach?"
"The name is Hayko. and I'm talking about the infatuation you've developed with Ida Reneson. Apparently I fit in somewhere. You refuse to believe she's merely a friend, and you suspect I've tried seduction."
"Now you're a chip off the old block. Straight-shooting and frank."
"You like that, John."
"It seems ridiculous for two well-educated people to argue over the affections of-of a rich orphan. Her money would be quite attractive."
Maurice clenched his fist until white fibers throbbed in the kunckles. His face was getting red, a response which delighted young Johnny. Opponents became easy when emotion over-ruled their rational thought processes.
"She's no orphan, and I happen to be a decent married man! So watch your tongue!"
"A bad conscience can stretch one's imagination and find accusations where none exist."
"What you're saying is this: you haven't claimed that I slept with Ida. Thank you, sir! And please apologize for your threat to spread libelous stories about me throughout the faculty and school."
"Calm down."
"Underneath the intellectual surface you're wholly asinine!"
Maurice started to turn away at the corner of the granite dormitory, but John grabbed him by the jacket. "Swallow that remark."
"Let go of me."
"You seem to have trouble understanding the drift. One day soon I'll marry Ida in spite of your dirty desires! So pick on a girl your own age and leave Ida alone."
John had calculated his scheme in order that privacy would be assured. They were standing under the oak trees behind a hedge, where no onlookers could possibly see. He disliked the idea of witnesses to the scene.
His first punch missed completely. It whizzed past Maurice's ear as he ducked aside, and the man retaliated with a left hook to the belly. John shook off the blow. He was much heavier and stronger; a chop of his palm and a right cross sent Maurice slithering to his knees.
Blood spurted from his nose as he growled, "You lousy punk!"
"The facts of life can be rather startling. I hope you won't find it necessary to be warned again." John dusted off his hands and began whistling as he promenaded confidently toward the sun-baked football field.