Chapter 10

The fading mellow sun of October streamed in the windows and across the lab bench, reflecting off the glass of bent tubing and burbling liquid in a stoppered bottle over a low bunsen flame. April and Bill stood side by side, heads close, watching the reaction. His notebook lay to one side.

The liquid boiled up and through the tubing to another stoppered bottle. Their eyes followed the burbling flow, watched moisture form inside the empty bottle. Bill's gaze moved slyly from the experiment in progress to April's face. Her lips had pursed slightly and he studied the soft curve of them, noted the smooth, soft texture of her skin, the way her dark lashes curled. He caught a faint fragrance from her hair and his fingers, spread on the bench, curled and taloned.

She looked around suddenly and his eyes instantly jumped to the glass and boiling chemicals.

"See how it works, Bill?"

"I see, all right." His voice sounded oddly smothered.

"Turn out the flame. The action's over. You'll find the catalytic agent unchanged there. Make up your notes and the experiment's done."

He turned out the flame. She straightened as he started writing in his notebook. She removed her white smock and stretched die kinks out of shoulders too long bowed over the bench. His pencil halted, poised as he watched her breasts strain against the soft knit material of her dress.

He moistened his lips. "April, I think I'm missing this catalysis theory."

"Oh, Bill! It's all in the texts."

"I've read them but they don't make sense. Sometimes talking a thing out makes it clear."

She glanced at her wrist watch. "Gosh, Bill, by the time you make up notes and we dismantle this for tomorrow's class-"

"Too late," he agreed. He hesitated, plunged. "But maybe tonight we could go over the text-"

Her face fell in honest disappointment. "I wish I could but I promised Peg-Miss Mason-I'd go somewhere with her."

"Well, that's that."

"Tell you what, Bill. Try to work it out yourself tonight. Tomorrow, I'll see if you've got it. If you haven't, I'll arrange to have an evening free. Okay?"

He shrugged, then grinned. "Okay, April. I'm taking too much of your time as it is."

"I don't mind. I love it. Now, finish your notes while I start dismantling."

Later he helped her into her car in the parking lot. Daylight was beginning to purple into dusk. He spoke a polite good night, stood aside and watched her drive out of the lot and out of sight.

He strode to his car and drove home. He answered his mother's greeting with a grunt and started up the stairs to his room.

Her voice checked him. "William."

"Yes, mom?" He turned on the stair and looked down.

She said, "Clair phoned. You'd better call her back."

"Later."

"I think she's a little angry. She didn't quite believe me when I said you were doing extra study at school. I find it a little hard to understand myself."

"So what makes it a big deal, mom?"

"Oh, I'm pleased, William. And so is your father. I told him about it. We just can't believe you're taking school seriously."

"Ducky!"

"William, I'm trying to say something nice, you know."

"Sorry, Mom. It's just that I'm not used to it."

"Well!"

But he had turned and apparently did not hear. He went into his room and dropped the books on a small desk. He thudded into the small chair beside the desk and ran his fingers through his hair.

His mother's voice sounded from below. "Be sure to call Clair."

"Okay."

He glared at the chemistry text and wished he had never started on April's project. Not that he minded the study-to his surprise he found it fun. But to be beside April Williams, alone hour after hour in the lab, was torture. What had made him think he could ever make time with her?

He stared into distance, envisioning her. He could see her moving toward him in that knit job she had worn today, breasts thrust toward him, inviting touch. He saw the curve of hips and thighs under the dress as she moved. What would she be like in the intimacy he had known with girls of his own age? Would he ever know?

He stood up, restless, wanting her and knowing he would have to wait-and maybe never get her. Then he grinned. You could bet he would not understand that catalytic business tomorrow. From there he would fly by the seat of his pants. Play it slow and cool, he warned himself. Every now and then he had shaken her up, he knew. And this whole bit of her pushing him ahead had to be more than teaching zeal. He would find out what.

In the meantime....

He went out into the hall, picked up the extension phone and dialed Clair.

She greeted him with, "Well, egghead, I wonder how you found the time to remember your girl friend. Or am I still?"

He put an injured note in his reply. "Baby, what's with this? Of course, you're my girl. Who else?"

"Oh, a certain chemistry teacher, perhaps."

"An old one like that? You're flipping."

Gradually he mollified her and, in the process, envisioned her slim, naked body as he had seen it so many times. It did not stack up to what he imagined April's to be but it was real. And available.

Clair finally agreed to meet him at the malt shop and her voice, at the last, had that funny little eager sound that told him her wants matched his own. He cradled the receiver and grinned at the instrument, then frowned as he thought of April.

The sudden ring of the phone startled him. He answered.

Joyce James said, "Bill, I'm going to be lonesome."

"What?"

"Hal's working again tonight."

"Oh."

"I hope-"

"Baby, so do I. But I'm tied up. Can't make it." A silence. Then: "I see. Well-"

"Baby, if I could wriggle out, I'd be pounding on your door. You're the best."

"You mean that?"

"Think I've forgotten?" His mind worked swiftly. "Tomorrow?"

"I don't know."

"Try. I'll check you at school tomorrow." A few more words and she hung up, promising to work something out. Bill walked slowly back to his room. How screwed up could life become? He wanted a woman he could not have and two perfectly good chicks cried for him. He caught his reflection in the mirror and gave it a salute. "Bill Collins, the great lover boy. Weep, man, weep."

He met Clair at the malt shop and the minute he saw her he knew how the evening would go. She wore a sweater that kept his mind on his reason for being here. She took his hand under the booth table and squeezed it hard and her leg pressed against his. A sultry, eager gleam shone far back in her eyes.

They ordered cokes and Clair lit a cigarette with an impatient gesture. She continued to hold his hand even after he moved it up her thigh, pressing his fingers deep into her soft flesh.

Bill forgot both April and Joyce. His restless urges reached an explosive stage and he wanted to let diem blast.

He said, "Let's blow this scene."

"Where will we go?"

His fingers taloned gently into her upper thigh. "Guess."

"I ought to go home," she teased. "It's early. We'll be back before the folks lock you out."

"But I thought you had to study. Miss Williams will be so disappointed."

"What do I owe her?"

"You tell me."

"Nothing. We're wasting time."

She hesitated but did not remove his hand. He began to get angry and suddenly snatched it away.

He said, "I've wasted enough. I'll-"

Clair said hastily, "Okay, if you say so."

He grinned tautly. "Now you tell me."

Clair stood up without a word and he followed her out of the place.

He contained himself until they were well out on the dark highway. Then he suddenly cut to die road shoulder, switched off motor and lights and hungrily turned to her. She met him with avid mouth and straining body.

He broke off the kiss, swore and started the car again. Clair clung fiercely to him as he sent the car hurtling down the road.

Her sudden question cut through the fog of desire that swirled in his brain.

"Is Miss Williams nice?"

"Who?"

"Miss Williams. You've seen a lot of her lately-after class and all."

He slanted a glance at her. Clair stared straight ahead along the tunnel his headlights cut into the night.

He asked, "Why does everyone act like I'm nuts about her or something?"

"Are you?"

"I like her. She's helping me with chemistry and there's nothing wrong with that unless-" he slowed the car-'some squares think there is. Do you?"

"I've heard dungs, that's all. I didn't say I believe them."

He scowled and she touched his leg. "Forget it. What's it matter tonight?"

The car picked up speed and eventually, far ahead, the lights of the Corners twinkled and beckoned.

Bill went into the tavern, came out in a few moments. Clair jumped out of the car at his impatient signal and they hurried to a cabin. The door slammed behind them and she came into his arms.

Her body moved sensuously, demandingly. He fumbled with buttons and her sweater fell open. His hands moved over her warm, smooth skin to her back and swiftly worked with the brassiere.

She clung to him, but now her head fell back, neck arched. Her lips parted as he moved his hands up under the loose bra and cupped the white mounds in his hands, fingers moving to nipples that tensed under his touch.

Clair's hands became busy with his clothing. They moved to undress each other in a kind of practiced frenzy. They broke apart with one accord. In a few moments she lay naked on the bed and Bill dropped beside her. She pulled his head to her breasts. His hands roved over her as his passion grew.

At the last instant she held him off.

"Like me?" she asked.

He pressed against her but her braced arms foiled him. "Like me?"

"I want you-"

"More than anyone?"

His answer came gustily and choking. "Just you-you're all I want."

Her resistance vanished and she accepted him. Her gasp echoed in the silent room. Her fingers raked down his bare back as her wanton body shook with ecstatic tremors, meeting his movements with fierce demand.