Chapter 2
In his room that night, Bill Collins shrugged into a light, flowered shirt and immediately felt the moisture pull the material to his bare chest. He bent to the mirror and passed a comb through his hair, straightened and critically considered himself.
His glance strayed to a photo cut from a magazine-a pin-up of some unknown girl with sultry eyes, parted lips and rounded up-thrust breasts. It had evoked a few vaguely distressed remarks from his mother and understanding grins from his father and older brother. Now looking at it, Bill suddenly thought of the new teacher.
Think you could step up to a real wise one, man? Think you could handle her? Bill grinned sardonically at his reflection and felt a tingle of excitement.
He flipped out the light as he left the room. He paused, hearing voices coming up the stairs from the living room. One was his father's, the other was vaguely familiar. His soft sneaker soles made no sound as he slowly descended the stairs.
He stopped when the visitor's voice said, "The new teacher came today."
Bill's father grunted. "We're lucky to get her. Old enough to retire, I suppose?"
"No, young. Her first teaching job."
"Inexperienced. Well, with what the town can pay, I suppose we can't kick. Pretty?"
"As I remember seeing her at the interviews last spring."
"Well, that ought to interest you, Jud."
At last Bill identified the visitor as Judson Gray.
Judson owned the town's largest department store and was a big wheel with the chamber of commerce. Bill moved on down the stairs.
Jud said, "She took the job. That's all I care. But right now I'm interested in the factory. When will it open again?"
Bill stopped just beyond the archway leading to the living room. His father sat in a big chair, a tall gin and tonic on the small table beside him. The old man's voice became sharp and petulant.
"I wish to hell I knewl"
"We can't wait much longer. That's why I say forget these government contracts and let's manufacture things we can use around here, sell and distribute through our stores and across the state."
"That's a crazy idea."
"You said so at the last meeting, Collins. But think it over. The factory people have the equipment. The town could lend them money. We could set up adult retraining classes in the high school. By the first of the year the factory would be busy again."
"Jud, how can we do it? Lend them whose money-on a chance? How do we know it'll work?"
"As a community we still have credit. We need payroll, employment. If we don't get it people will move out. And the kids-idle all summer and maybe for years to come. They'll go delinquent if they haven't already."
Bill knew this was not the time to wheedle money from his father. He scuffed around to make a noise and then moved across the archway to the front door. He saw Judson Gray, tall and slender, standing near his father's chair. Jud was dark and intense, about thirty-five, with deep-set eyes and firm chin.
Bill's father called sourly, "Bill, can't you stay home at night?"
"You're busy, dad, and mom's at her club."
"Well-try to get in before daybreak."
"Yes, sir."
Bill hurried out to his car waiting in the drive beside the house. He did not feel truly safe from restriction until he drove away at a sedate speed. Around the corner, he fed gas to the souped-up motor under the battered hood. Tires squealed as he whipped around the next corner with a roar that shattered the night stillness.
An hour later he impatiently patted his foot in rhythm to the record music blasting from the jukebox. Every booth at Tiny's was filled with teenagers. The walls of the long narrow room vibrated with loud talk, laughter and the beating rhythms of twist and bossa nova. Clair Engels sat beside Bill in the booth and across the table Hal Danton and Joyce James devoured hamburgers.
Now and then Joyce surreptitiously gave Bill the eye and he knew he could make it with her. But Clair's bare soft leg pressed against his under the booth and she would move it slightly against his as he moved his hand over the soft, swelling upper leg.
Bill told them about the new teacher.
Clair looked narrowly at him out of sea-green eyes. "She's pretty?"
"Man, a looker!"
"Maybe you got ideas?"
His eyes traveled boldly over the taut mounds her breasts made against her blouse and he grinned. "Not as long as you're around."
Joyce spoke up. "We'll have to watch you, Bill."
He turned his head. Joyce's soft eyes locked with his and, for an instant, her lips and eyes were absolutely still. She took a deep breath, pushed out her breasts-everything about her spelled out invitation. But Hal was there, of course, and Joyce ought to have known Bill could not make a pass here and now.
Bill's eyes cut away before Clair could notice and he said impatiently, "Let's cut out."
Clair instantly picked it up. "You said it."
"Where?" Hal asked.
"Down to the Corners?" Bill suggested.
Joyce looked a little frightened and uncertain. The Corners was a dance spot ten miles out of town where minors could buy liquor under the counter and sign any old name in the registry book for one of the box-like rooms in the shabby motel court that adjoined it. Nick Archos never asked questions so long as he could see the money.
Hal shook his head. "Wish I could, Bill."
"Why not?"
"Why-the old man ain't worked in a month and he's pretty tight with money. I'm lucky to have gas in the hot rod."
Joyce looked relieved. "I'd rather stay here-or just drive around."
Bill thought, She's a teaser-full of come-on but she'd scream murder, if you took her to one of Nick's rooms....
He hid his thoughts under a stubborn fling of the head. "Okay, might as well break it up. I'll run you home, Clair."
"Big deal, party poop I"
She stood up and Bill slid out of the booth. The two girls went ahead and Bill appreciatively watched the swing of Clair's hips in the brief, tight linen shorts she wore. Out on the walk, the couples parted.
Bill helped Clair into his car and drove off with a roar of motor and screech of tires. He made sure he was well out of sight of Hal and Joyce when he slowed the pace and grinned.
"Who's a party poop?"
Clair giggled, snuggled to him so that he could feel the giving softness of her young breasts against his bicep.
"I got the message. The Comers?"
"For a drink at least."
"At least," she echoed and her hand dropped to his leg, moved along it and then her fingers curled and tightened into his flesh. He felt a warmth surge through him.
"Save it, sugar, for when it counts."
He swung around the next comer and then, by side streets reached the old highway at the edge of town. They raced out into the country under silvery moonlight There was little traffic.
They came to the Corners. The main building was low and dark despite the high, flashing neon sign above it. Twenty or thirty cars fined the area before it and Bill could hear the jukebox beat even through the walls. He coasted into a space between two cars, cut the motor.
As he twisted around in the seat Clair came into his arms. Her body arched to his, tight nipples pressing against the thin material of his shirt. Her tongue darted between his lips as she strained and moved against him.
Bill's hand traveled along her leg, feeling the vibrant flesh and she made a soft, muffled sound of pleasure through the kiss. He felt passion rise as she broke away and, in the dim light, he saw her sensuous smile.
He said thickly, "I'll get the bottle. Coming with me?"
She gave him a swift, fight kiss. "Can't we cut the jive bit?"
"Sure. Why not?"
He threw the car door open and jumped out. Sound and voices blasted at him as he entered the main building. The dance floor looked packed and every dark booth seemed filled. Bill worked his way to a bar where sweating waiters served soft drinks, sandwiches. Nick Archos, beefy, dark and oily, caught Bill's wink and came to him at the end of the bar.
"What's doing, kid?"
"I got friends want a room, Nick."
"Sure. Sign 'em up at the office. Bring in the card. Anything else?"
"They're dry."
Nick frowned. "These friends, they ain't kids?"
"Nick, you know me."
"Okay, kid. I'll send it to their room. They got money?"
Bill grinned. "I'll pay now. And take the bottle with me.
A little later Bill unlocked a door of one of the small cabins beyond the dancehall. He flicked on a switch. Light revealed a room bare except for a wide, thinly covered bed, a chair and a dresser. A blind had been drawn over the single window.
Bill closed the door and turned to Clair. She came and moved sensuously against him, hip to hip and again her tongue explored his mouth. Still holding him, she moved again and a slender arm extended over his shoulder, sought and found the switch.
The light snapped off and she stepped away. A faint glow came through the thin blind, enough for him to see her slender shape as she moved to the bed and sat on its edge. He took a bottle from a plain brown bag he had brought, snapped the plastic seal. He handed the bottle to Clair as he dropped on the bed beside her.
She took hardly more than a sip, returned it. He took a deep swallow of the fiery liquor then placed the bottle carefully on the floor beside the bed. He twisted around to her and she eagerly met him. His hand came up under the swelling mound of a breast and she lifted it to his fingers. He felt her tense as he began to work on the buttons of her blouse.
She dropped back on the bed, pulling him down with her. Her tongue darted into his mouth and she shuddered as his hand caressed the flat, young stomach, under the belt of the shorts. With a swift, writhing movement, she helped him remove the rest of her clothing.
Her voice came in an urgent whisper: "Sugar-love me-"
He undressed swiftly, threw himself beside her and instantly her arms drew him close. She gasped when his strength took over. Her head dropped back, long white throat arching. Her hands moved over him, caressing, arousing.
Her whole body shook, She gasped and moaned as she lunged to meet him.
Time and again ecstasy shook her and her nails streaked down his bare back. He felt his passion mount and with a little choked scream she met his ecstasy....
For a while they lay side by side. Bill could dimly hear the beat of music if not the melody through the thin walls of the cabin. His hand moved to the warm flesh of Clair's leg. Her hand covered his, slowly moved it up to her breast. He cupped his fingers around it and she withdrew her hand then, dropping it on his chest. He felt the rise and fall of her breathing and then felt the nipple slowly tighten under his finger. He knew the evening was far from over.
She stirred restlessly, checked him when he started to withdraw his hand. She spoke in a soft whisper, "Bill?"
"Yes?"
"Am I as pretty as Joyce James?" He blinked in surprise. "Sure, Clair."
"Or that new teacher?"
He came up on an elbow, frowned down into her pale face. "Now why do you ask that? She's a teacher-woman."
"What am I?"
"You're eighteen, baby."
"Not a woman?"
He grinned in the darkness, did not answer. She frowned up at him. "Do I have to show you again?"
"Why not?"
She sighed and reached for him. "No reason why not-all the reason why."
Outside, the thumping rhythm of the distant jukebox increased its tempo.