Chapter 5
Lorna drove to the woods and parked the car very carefully under a copse of shrubbery and overhanging trees. As she got out and walked into the dense growth of wilderness she felt her satiny thighs brush together like a caress. She wore no pants and her cunt was swollen and wet in anticipation. She would not allow herself to think that he might not keep their rendezvous; the thought of seeing him again had sustained her through the eternity of dullness since their last meeting. She would lose her mind if she even contemplated being stood up.
As she climbed over the remains of a stone wall she heard a low whistle and turned to see him a few yards away. His arm rose in an arc of greeting. She hurried to him.
"Missed me?" he laughed. His hands went under her skirt and he rubbed her bare buttocks. Lorna strained against him, pressing the points of her tits against him as she shivered in response to his roving hand in her crack. He dug his fingers against her bung and screwed them against her hole. She moaned and clenched her ass cheeks around his hand.
She reached for his cock and touched the rocky bulge through his pants. It was up, crammed hot and throbbing between his legs, caught up in the vise of his tight denim clothing. She cupped his balls and rubbed his imprisoned whang until he began to thrust his hips against her palm.
"You've got the most beautiful piece of meat in the world," she sighed.
"Take it out and play with it," he panted.
Lorna fumbled with the strange buttons, almost ripping them off in her impatience to get to his big creamy stick. At last she had them loosened and reached into his pants. She pulled his hot cock out of the opening and stared down at the long dark power of it.
Steve stood proudly, hands on hips, legs apart, jutting his groin obscenely. Lorna tightened her fist over his prick and rubbed it up and down on him. She took the flared head in her fingers and pushed back his foreskin, until the throbbing knob was fully exposed. Her head lolled drunkenly on her shoulders as she pistoned her arm and gave him a rough hand job, milking his pulsating rod until she drew a drop of lubrication from its tip.
With a cry, she sank to her knees. Her mouth moved against the cock that she held to her face as she murmured huskily:
"I want to taste it again."
"Suck on it, but not too much. I've got other plans," he panted.
She captured his pecker in a long, burning clamp and drew noisily and hungrily on it. She rocked back and forth on the ground before him, putting her whole body into it as she drove his fat dark shaft deep into her throat. Her lower lip worked like a scoop over his foreskin, pushing it back and forth over the twisted bands of skin on the underside of his knobby tip. His balls ached with boiling jism as her hands dragged on his pants and shorts until she had them to his ankles.
Her hot lewd mouth bore down hard, slurping over his wet prick. She cupped his nuts with her hand and explored the hairy crevice of his crack. He caught her finger between his buttocks and flexed his muscles around it, gasping as she found his rectum and began to prod and tickle it.
Her mouth became a burning, ravenous maw as she pulled on his shaft until her cheeks hollowed and expanded in obscene abandon. Steve grunted with delight and fucked into her mouth.
"Christ, you can suck cock better than any woman I ever knew! Go to it, baby, fill your mouth up with jism! There's plenty more where this came from."
She grasped his flexing rod tighter in her fist and funneled her sensuous lips over the flared head. His semen-crammed stick pounded with trapped blood, aching and beating in a delectable pain throughout his loins. Her tongue fluttered over the giant rocky head, digging into his piss slit and twining in hungry circles over his stiff ridge. He grunted and slammed his loins into her face as he felt his prick surge and start to shoot.
"Drain it, swallow that good come I made for you!"
She milked his cock for all she was worth, hurting it, bruising it, but sucking in a way that he was powerless to resist or stop, no matter how much he wanted to get into her cunt with it. He felt the roughened roof of her mouth as his wet, dribbing rod slid back and forth in her eagerly salivating mouth. A stream of his white jism ran out of the corner of her lips and rolled down her chin. Lorna flicked her tongue out to catch it as if it were the best thing she had ever tasted and she didn't want to waste a drop of it. Steve watched, fascinated, as she licked her lips and sucked some more, pulled his softening cock into her greedy mouth until she had it in her throat.
At last it was over. She pressed her face into his opened fly, his cock buried in her mouth. Her tongue continued to laze over it, licking tiredly. Then she released it and licked his warm, achy balls.
Lorna clung to his strong legs and kissed his naked belly, rubbed her face against the big puff of curly jock hair. All sense of self left her; even her own passion, powerful as it was, was subordinate to his. She had to worship him in this way, on her knees, doing the only thing she could do on her knees. She was his, she belonged to him, just as she had belonged to Daddy, because it was dangerous and forbidden. She was linked to Steve Atkins, forged to him by something primitive and inevitable. She had felt this same sort of mystical union with Daddy, to whom she was linked by blood. But with Steve it was something else . . . she didn't know what, something as strong as blood, even stronger.
His steely gray eyes looked down at her strangely. There was something hypnotic in his gaze whose spell she did not dare break by either word or movement. He must give the signal, not her. She was merely his instrument, and the steel in his eyes might as well be a steel chain.
He pulled her up. "Come on," he said roughly. "I never leave a woman like you unsatisfied for long. It's too dangerous." He laughed, a harsh, metallic sound without mirth, and pulled her onto a bed of pine needles.
He flipped back her skirt and looked into the swollen crevice of her orange-haired pussy. Lorna spread her legs and lifted her knees. Her pussy was a swollen, separated sticky mass, tingling and throbbing with lust. Steve lay with his fat cock pressed against her bare thigh as his fingers trailed over her gaping cunt lips. He drubbed into her slit and tickled her stiff, erected clitoris until she twisted against him, groaning.
His big palm covered her entire vulval area; he pressed hard on the wet oval and caressed her glistening inner thighs. Lorna reared up and rubbed her crotch against the hard length of his wrist.
His hand and wrist were wet from her. He opened her twat and stuck his finger into its streaming folds. Lorna's hips rolled and jerked with delight, already performing the rhythmic thrusts of a woman with a cunt full of something big and hard. His thumb dug violently into her vagina and quivered against the stretchy folds. She wriggled her ass down against the pressure he made and suckled his thumb inside her channel. She made her internal muscles work like a hungry mouth and clamp down on him. He slammed into her with a ferocity that drew a moaning howl of pleasure from her.
"Yesssssss, finger-fuck me, hit it hard! "Way up there, go all the way in! AHHHHHHHHMMMMMM."
Ooooh, how thick it was, almost as thick as a cock! Her ass humped and wriggled in the pine needles and soft earth as he pistoned his wrist into her opened crotch. He made her yell louder when he stuck his longest finger into her puckered anal rim and screwed it in deep, going all the way up her bung until she threw her legs in the air to receive more of the harsh, dry pleasure that she had never known before.
"I can feel your cunt through your ass," he gasped. "See?"
He pinched thumb and finger together inside of her and she gasped in disbelief at the dual joy that it evoked. She felt his knuckles grind against her tender ass cheeks as he poked and wriggled his finger into her bowels.
Lorna held his arm against her crotch and thrust her sore, desire-engorged slit against it, sliding up and down over his wrist, her head back and her mouth twisted in a grimace of delight. A spine-tingling sensation began in her groin and she felt herself coming. Her hips jerked faster; his wrist was like a giant prick, stone-hard and hairy as it lay along the entire length of her slot.
Suddenly, his thumb and finger slithered out of her. She gave a cry of surprise and disappointment, but he was on top of her, his prick hard again and ready to fuck her.
"Fuck!" he ground out roughly. "I want to get in there right, baby. Playing with those juicy little holes of yours was all I needed to get hard again. Now here's something bigger for you to squeeze!"
Lorna's hips lifted in little circular jabs, aiming for his big juicy dick that he drubbed into her oozing steamy slice. When the fierce knob of his cockhead touched the soaked tangle of pussy hair he shook and gritted his teeth.
"Ohhh, that's the best feeling in the world, to slide your pecker into a slicked-up box! I could rub it on you all night. Sometime I will, just to see how much we can both stand."
He centered his whang against the burning, quivering depression of her vaginal entrance and screwed his hips down in a circular undulation that drove the gigantic tip into her slot. Lorna gasped and wiggled as he fucked her deeper, driving his hammering stick into her cervix.
She stretched back in ecstasy as he pushed it in through the soft, lubricating walls of her vagina, stretching her open with a firm, leisurely thrust. Her slice lay open under his curly triangle of pelvic hair and she ground against him while he held the gigantic stick against her womb entrance. Her clitoris throbbed as he pressed against her outer lips and squirmed his hips into her crotch. Then he lifted himself on his elbows and rocked back, pulling his massive cock out of her tingling cunt. He went in her again with a thudding stroke and flexed his buttocks so that she could feel the rigid stick move inside her pussy like something alive. He gathered her ass in his hands and held her up as he pronged her with lusty pokes and pulls that left a trail of heat through her whole belly. She shivered and cried out each time his cock slid down to her entrance and tugged on her sensitive ballooned lips until she opened into a taut, generous tunnel.
"Ohhhhh, you beautiful fucker! What you're doing to my pussy! I love your big fat cock . . . love it, love it, love it!"
"Whose woman are you? Eh? Whose beautiful cunt are you?" he demanded.
"Yours . . . I love you, adore you. Don't ever stop fucking me, ever!"
She heaved her groin up into his and slid her feet down his back, digging her toes into his bare ass and pressing down on him so that she could ride his plunging prick. Her twat surged and gushed against it and she felt her walls swell up and grow stiff.
"Jesus, you get big in there, don't you? You're getting it, you're spraying-Ooooooh, you're coming!"
She grasped him with her legs and mashed her body against his jerking hips. Her fingers knitted through his heavy growth of back hair as she clutched his ass and raked her nails into his hard muscular cheeks. She felt the sling of muscles move as his cock jerked in her cunt.
They were locked together, a tense straining spider of flailing arms and legs. Lorna's pussy slid up and down his pumping rod as she came in a burst of frenzied, clawing passion. His balls emptied into her, filling her with boiling sperm. Their wet genitals slapped and suckled together in vulgar abandon; his seminal fluids washed her box and rolled down into her burning rectum.
Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked into his face. He was smiling, an alert, watchful smile that both frightened and fascinated her. He pulled his cock out of her and flung his leg over her body as he rolled to his side. Lorna touched her pussy lightly and jerked tiredly as her sore and still sensitive clitoris responded to her fingers.
"Venus ashamed," he grinned, looking at her pose.
She drew in her breath In a sharp gasp as the familiar expression evoked memories of models, the smell of paint and turpentine.
"Where did you hear that?" she asked.
He shrugged. "Where does anybody hear anything? I don't know. All I know is, that's a famous art pose, when a woman puts her hand over her twat like that." He gave her a probing stare. "But you're not ashamed, are you?"
"No," she laughed. "Just sore."
She had never seen such gray eyes as his. There were no gold or brown flecks in them, just a clear, almost colorless gray, like an overcast sky; except for their steady, unchanging gaze she would have likened them to twin pools of mercury. She did not dare look away until somehow, by some word or signal, he gave her permission. His stare was like an embrace, yet there was no warmth, no passion in it.
"Yes . . . you're mine," he whispered. "You really are my woman, aren't you? It wasn't just something you said while you were hot, was it?"
Mutely, she shook her head, then she burst out, her voice on the edge of hysteria.
"You're going to be free in a few days-"
"Honey, I've always been free."
"No, no, I mean . . . the jail. You told me this was your last week."
His mouth twisted with amusement. He watched her like a cat stationed at a mouse hole.
"True," he nodded. "So? Aren't you happy for me?"
"Yes. . . . I mean, I-where are you going?" She sat up and spoke in a soft whisper of desperation, as though they might be overheard.
"Listen, my father-in-law hasn't forgotten you. He's the judge that sentenced you. He said last night that hell run you out of the state if-"
"If I let the sun set on my head in this town?" Steve interrupted with a wry grin. "I know that. I don't intend to give him the chance. I'm heading south."
Something in her face crumbled for a moment, then she clutched his arm.
"Take me with you! I've got a car, money, anything you need! I hate this place, I hate my husband and that damn family of his. They're driving me crazy. I've got to get away! Promise me you'll take me with you."
She was too distraught to see the flicker, of surprise that he quickly quashed from his features.
As he returned to the compound Steve had to admit that he had at last met a woman with the power to surprise him. He had thought he would have to talk her into it; at the very least he expected to be the one to mention it first. But he had underestimated his powers, something he had never done before. She was hooked on him as if he were a drug.
He laughed to himself as he imagined the furor that their flight would cause in the town, in the whole state for that matter. The beauty of it was that neither of them was doing anything wrong. He was free, or would be in two more days; as for Lorna, there was no law that said a woman could not leave her husband. The only crime she was committing was desertion, one that no one could arrest her for.
He shook his head slowly. It was hard to believe that he would not have to steal a car. That was legally in her name, too. The whole Bonnie and Clyde arrangement was the height of irony because it was totally above board.
Just to keep his hand in, Steve decided to do something that might come in handy later on. It never hurt to have too many extra license plates, in case of trouble. He had often stolen plates from cars and switched them around with his own to stall the cops, but he had been much younger when he did that. To steal the tags from a law-abiding car was petty larceny; to steal them for purposes of resisting arrest compounded the crime. There was no need to do such silly things when you were the foreman of the metal shop.
Like many States, the prisoners in Maine were employed to stamp and paint the tags for the Department of Motor Vehicles, as well as road signs and ID medals for dogs. As foreman of the operation, Steve had the keys to the supply room, where lay stacks of metal sheets, paint, and the dies for letters and numbers.
The last thing he needed was another set of Maine tags, but he could do with a couple of out-of-state items. He thought a moment, discarding automatically such convenient but hard-to-produce tags like New Mexico and Wyoming. The former had a sunburst on it and the latter a cowboy on a bucking bronco. Finally, he decided upon the undecorated license plates of Vermont, Maryland and Virginia. It would simply be a matter of different color paints, and he remembered what each of those tags looked like. Pennsylvania would be nice to have but the damn thing was shaped like the state.
He had the run of the metal shop; no one would notice or care if he stayed a little late. They would think he was finishing up some work or correcting someone's poor job. He finished the plates he wanted and wrapped them in a paper bag. If anyone questioned him about it, which was unlikely, he planned to say that he had made himself some bookends as a souvenir of the trade that the prison had taught him. No one noticed the parcel he carried to his cell.
Later, he lay on his bunk and smoked. The final irony of his departure from prison would be the cheap suit they were giving him for his return to the world. He would take it, of course, but Lorna was making a trip to the dry cleaners to pick up her father-in-law's fall suits-three of them. One thing he had in common with Judge Perkins was size. They would fit perfectly. He lay laughing quietly to himself.
CHAPTER SK
They were naked on the queen size bed of a motel on the north shore of Massachusetts. Lorna sat over Steve's lap, her legs spread wide around him as she teased his thrusting cock with her wet pussy. She laughed softly and squirmed the big knobby head into her molten slice and trailed it up and down her crotch, then released it and pressed it up against his belly with her groin. She held it against him for a moment while she wriggled obscenely.
"Ummmmm, it comes all the way up to your waist when I hold it like this," she sighed. "It's like a big ripe cucumber."
Steve lay back against the plumped up pillows and strained against her.
"Did you ever fuck yourself with a cucumber when you got horny?"
"Noooooo, I used a tube of cream."
"Will you fuck yourself with a cucumber and let me take a picture of it?"
"Yes," she sighed. "Anything . . . anything you want me to do. I want to be bad for you and good for you-oh, anything!
She continued to squirm and move her luscious bare ass around on his thighs, sitting heavily on his groin so that his prick went under her crack. She felt it swell and flex into a long hot stone from her wanton, abandoned movements.
"Sit on it!" he groaned. "I think I'll make you do the work until I get used to a real bed again. Fuck it, baby, sink down on it."
He pulled her directly over his crotch and moved his hips until his rearing cock dipped into her cunt hole. She held it there at the entrance, swiveling her hips enticingly, then let it bob again her inner thighs before she dipped forward and thrust it back against her bare behind. When it rammed against her crack and entered the hairy valley of her ass she knew a lewd thrill. A burning throb coursed and licked up her rectum; her corn hole tingled in response and stretched, making her deliciously aware of the dark, muscle-lined tunnel of her bowels.
Steve panted and humped under her. She bore down on his trapped cock, forcing the thick shaft into her nether orbs. She felt as if she were sitting on an iron pipe; the pressure of it made her rectal rim clench like a pursing mouth. A fiery glow centered around her anus.
"You want it up the dirt road, don't you?" he gasped. "Stick it in your cunt a little to slick it up first!"
He heaved his big body up against her. His prick separated her fuzzy, engorged pussy lips and slid heavily through its slippery folds. Lorna sank down on his rod, pushing it quickly and expertly into her hungry box.
"Ohhhh, it's like a fist," she cried, as she wriggled it in her cunt.
Steve yelped with pleasure and rammed her with a powerful thrust that sent eight inches of rock-hard pecker up her vagina. His hips jerked and slammed into her tender, hair-fringed lips. Lorna squeezed his snugly embedded maleness, tightening her sphincter muscles around it as he banged her cervix. On the downward stroke, she released it and let him drag it nearly out, shivering in ecstasy as its rubbery ring of foreskin teased her nerve-laced entrance.
In spite of the hot thrills that pounded in her box with each slapping thrust of his cock, she could think of nothing but her naked ass. Her bung was stretched into a burning, receptive tunnel of lust and anticipation, flexing and squeezing as though it already had something in it.
They fucked in panting silence. Her pussy manufactured copious juices that smeared their thighs. She pressed forward into his face, letting him rub and nuzzle her nipples, but each wild sensation that he gave her only made her more aware of the primitive, forbidden act that she really wanted. Her virginal rectal rim fluttered with excitement and a maddeningly itchy signal of yearning that would not cease.
"Now," Steve whispered. "It ought to be good and wet now."
He hoisted her up, dragging his slippery, come-slathered prick out of her box. He grabbed her hips and turned her around. Lorna gave a cry of delight and waved her eager buttocks in his face. His tongue slithered between her cheeks and licked wetly at her rectum as she squealed and tossed. He lowered her to her hands and knees and got up behind her. His heavy hand on her neck forced her shoulders down flat on the mattress.
He squeezed her plump orbs and dipped his finger into her rim. She felt it go in and stretch her open as he judged her capacity. She lunged back at him and drove his finger in knuckle-deep.
"Nnnnnnggghhhl I loooove it! Oh, I need something back there!"
"Plenty of room . . . good ass," he gasped. "I'm going to have a fucking good time in that pretty little rim."
His finger emerged with a pop. He knelt behind her. She felt his blood-thickened prick graze the back of her thighs. Ohhhh, she wanted that great big hammer up her ass, she wanted it to stretch her rectum and fill it with burning jism. She gave an impatient wiggle, weaving her naked behind at him as her entrance ring palpitated in wild lewd encouragement.
Something dark and wanton stirred in her as she realized she wanted pain and degradation as much as pleasure. She tossed her head and moaned hoarsely as the tip of his whang entered her fuzzy, moist crevice and prodded her tight hole with such pressure that her back arched and her rump lifted with a jerk, pulling instinctively away from his long thundering cock.
"Easy, sweetheart, you're going to love it once it's in, I tell you. Well screw it in nice and gentle."
He pulled her struggling hips back to his thrusting maleness and forced his flared cock head into her nether slit. Loma grunted with agony as the dry, heavy pain shot up her bowel and into her stomach.
"AAAAGGGGGG-ohhh, it feels like a spike! I can't take it, Steve!"
"Yes . . . you . . . can-ooooooo, my God what a tight little ass you've got! Feels like a rubber band around my prick. You're a perfect ass fuck, baby, a natural!"
He went wild then, digging, hammering, shoving and heaving his way into her tender, bruised ring of pleasure. The monstrous cock crept higher. Lorna bucked forward, trying to escape it but his hands were like a vise around her struggling hips. Searing torture cut through her stomach like a knife blade as he continued to thrust the battering cock into the burning puckered opening of her behind. She gagged, her head spun and threatened unconsciousness darkened her vision until there was nothing except a rapidly gathering cluster of black spots before her eyes.
"Oooooh, no more! Pleeeeez, no more! You're too big!"
"You've . . . almost got . . . all of it! This is the best hole I've ever been in!"
She felt as if she were going to split in two, right up the middle, if he tried to force any more of the massive length of cock into her cheeks. She clawed helplessly at the mattress but the cock plowed higher into her pinched virgin's ass, tearing at the churning walls of her rectum until it felt like a solid branch of fire in her entrails.
Steve's breath was like burning steam on her back as he humped her like an animal. He shot his hips forward in a merciless thrust that would have jarred even a welcoming cunt, but in a tight, unused and tender bung it was agony.
"There! You're stuffed, baby! It's all in!"
All of it, all of that monstrous, inhuman handle of fucking was shoved into her searing, throbbing asshole! She had done it, she was still alive, and her ass was pronged, crammed full of hard cock!
Gradually the pain lessened as her fear vanished. Pleasure radiated through her stretched nether region and his cock turned into a hot branch of lust. God, it was sunk in her, all the way up her ass, buried in her clasping musculature.
"Ummmmmmm, give me some of those nice long pulls," she crooned. "Fuck my ass, darling, fuck it with your magnificent rod!"
He crashed his groin into her soft buttocks, then dragged back from her, leaving a trail of fire where his pecker had been. He slid the huge stiff rod in and out of her now moist, rolling ass. She felt the wiry bush of his jock hair scrape her buttocks and rub them raw with each twisting, rocking grind of his hips into her naked flesh. His balls swung forward, under her crotch to her upturned creamy cunt. She opened her legs wide to catch their heavy, bobbing swing against her clitoris. Slip-slap-slap . . . it was a hairy, pendulous caress that hit her right where she needed it most, squarely on her gash!
It made her come, and she pumped her full ass back into his strokes until his voice turned into a long, low growl of animal delight. His hot spurt of jism emptied into her burning channel, feeling hotter than it ever did in her cunt. The sliding cock moved in and out of her bung, shooting another wad into her. She felt it spatter out onto her thighs. Steve fell on top of her and ground his hips weakly into her wet behind.
"Ummmmm, you're like a briar patch," she moaned. "I'll be chafed red."
He laughed and lifted his hairy crotch from her rump.
"You already are. Jesus, that calls for a drink," he sighed. He got up and poured them two bourbons. He stood for a moment looking gratefully at the bottle, thinking how wonderful it was to be able to go into a liquor store and make a purchase like anyone else. Four years was a long time between drinks.
He brought the glasses back to the bed and handed hers to her. Lorna drank, thinking how much better whiskey was than the sickly, sweetish daiquiris that Dan thought no lady could live without.
The thought of him and his parents dimmed her happiness in their escape and lusty lovemaking. It had been three days now since she had run away, and no one had bothered them, but still she could not relax. She did not know why, because Steve had calmly pointed out that they could do nothing to either of them. She was of age, had her own money, her own car; he was an ex-con, yes, but one with a spotless record in prison who had taken his farewell gift of twenty dollars and a new Suit and left the state which did not want him.
And besides, no one actually knew that they had left together. Who would believe that Dan Perkins' wife and Judge Perkins' daughter-in-law would run away with an ex-con?
She must have been frowning worriedly, because Steve laughed softly and chucked her under the chin.
"Are you on that again?" he said softly.
She looked up guiltily.
"I'm still a little worried, darling, because-"
"Sorry you did it? Sorry you left your prominent family to take up with a jailbird?" he murmured. His lips barely moved and his gray eyes were like murderous knife blades boring into her.
Fear smote her, and with it relentless panic.
"Oh, no, darling! Not that, you know that isn't it! I hate them, it's you I love-oh, darling, don't look at me like that! You know I love you, don't you?"
He shrugged.
"The lady doth protest too much. Surprised that I know that line from Hamlet? With the kind of men you're used to, you probably think that cons don't ever crack a book, don't you? Thought you were balling an ignoramus, maybe?"
Lorna leaped out of bed and threw herself at his knees. She wrapped her arms around his legs and rubbed her warm bare breasts against them, r pushing against him like a cat begging for attention after committing an offense against indoor living. He remained unmoved and unmoving, staring blankly at her as she started to cry and plead harder.
"Why do you say such things? Steve, darling, I never wanted anything in my life the way I want you, need you! I can't live without you. Don't turn away from me, darling, I can't bear it! I'm just worried, and you know so much more than I do about such-"
"So much more about living beyond the Pale, you mean? So much more about walking on the wild side instead of the respectable side? That's a nice, polite way to insult me, I must say."
She looked desperately into his face.
"No! Nol I meant you're so much cleverer than I am or they are. You can second-guess anybody, you can-why, you can even read people's minds! I just automatically turn to you for reassurance when I'm worried-"
At the words you can even read people's minds the cold remote mask left his face. Lorna saw something akin to smug pleasure, but mixed with it was a flicker of joy, triumph and what she could only call gratitude. She peered curiously at him, trying to interpret and analyze the rapid parade of emotions she had seen, but they were gone.
Hopelessness filled her. She would never understand him. Perhaps that was why he had so much power over her, for he did. She was his slave, subject to his every whim, his every mood, and she lived in mortal fear that she would say or do something to make him angry with her, and that he would no longer want her.
The words a desire to please the father came back to her now. She looked strangely at him, as if seeking another face behind the stern dark handsomeness. But no, she was being silly! Yet he did look like Daddy; not feature-wise but his coloring, and his sexy hairiness.
Two men could not have been more disparate in personality. Daddy had been kind and gentle, easygoing and sensitive. Steve was ruthless, relentless and even when he was laughing or making love, he was cruel. It was a cruelty tinged with grim humor and irony, as if he were merely testing her, and the rest of the world, to see if he could bend others to his will. And he was stern; in a way he was as much of a New Englander as Dan or the judge. So very different from Daddy. . . .
Maybe that was it, she thought. Fathers were supposed to be stem, and her own had been anything but. It had been so easy to please Daddy, but it was very difficult to please Steve. Here was the grim, demanding father, then.
"Come here, baby," he said softly, and pulled her onto his lap.
Once more his quicksilver change of mood wracked and confused her. He kept her constantly keyed up, never certain was his reactions would be. The tension never relaxed and it destroyed her confidence and self-assurance. Even their brief three days together had soon shown her what life with him was going to be like. He kept her on the defensive, so that she never knew what to expect. The only way she could be sure of pleasing him was in sex. As a result, she had quickly arrived at a willingness to do anything he wished, because that was the only way she could win his approval.
"Now," he said briskly, in a condescending, patient tone. "Why are you so worried?"
"They'll do something," she sighed. "I know them. They can so easily make something happen, some little thing like a traffic ticket-"
"You mean frame me?" he laughed.
She nodded, glad he had said it first. He was more sensitive than she had believed possible when it came to his jail record, and the difference between her social standing and his.
"Use your head, sweetheart," he said carelessly. 'In the first place, they're going to bend over backwards to keep me out of trouble so as to soft-peddle your disappearance. I know respectable people," he sneered. "Right this minute, they're telling everybody that you went on a trip to visit relatives somewhere. They've got to stall for time, especially since Dan is running for Congress."
He grinned.
"That's the best thing that could have happened to us. They won't risk his chances of being elected. They don't want to sacrifice that to get revenge on me. They undoubtedly know by now that we're together, I'm sure they've put investigators on the trail, but it's all on the QT. As long as you're with me, I'm safe, and therefore you're safe. Suppose they framed me, and then it came out that the respectable Mrs. Perkins, Jr. is with me when I'm arrested?"
His black brows rose in sardonic arcs. "I see," she said.
"Now get dressed. I want to get to Boston."
As they rode rapidly down the turnpike she picked up one of his books that he had carefully packed and brought with him from prison. It was called Karma: The Wheel of Fate. The strange word attracted her attention and she turned to the introduction.
She read:
"Karma, from the Arabic word qismah or Kismet, means simply Fate. There is no such thing as a first meeting; the same people continue meeting one another in life after life, and this attachment between them is called Karma. There is no way to escape a Karmic attachment, it is inexorable. Though we cannot remember our previous fives, one of the major proofs of reincarnation is the sensation of intense familiarity which we call by its French name, deja vu, or "already seen." We have all experienced deja vu; who among us has not been certain that a particular moment has already been lived before, that some incident has happened to us before?'
Lorna put down the book, remembering suddenly that day alone in the bathroom, when she had lain before the mirror and played with her pussy and fucked herself with the tube of cream with the cock-like cap. Her words came back to her, the words she had spoken to the imaginary lover: I'll keep you in me, you big-cocked stud! She remembered how she had held the tube in her cunt with two fingers. That, and the words, had seemed intensely familiar to her. . . .
There was something else, too. The words men without women, men in the woods without women. She had experienced the sensation of deja vu then, too.
She frowned. Was there really something to Karma and reincarnation, to deja vu? Oh, but surely not! Everybody had those funny feelings; it was just one of those things. She did not believe in reincarnation. Death was final, a long blackness without beginning or end. There was nothing after death, and nothing before it. There was only one life to a customer, and she had wasted enough of hers already, she thought grimly. Hatred for Dan and the smothered existence in the gloomy house smote her and she determined to make up for it. She shivered as she thought of a Karmic attachment between herself and Dan. Once was enough! God, imagine putting up with him once a century! She'd rather be dead.
The humor of her contradictory thoughts struck her. That was the point of reincarnation, apparently; in not being dead, ever, but going on.. . .
She turned and looked at Steve's dark profile. If there were anything to reincarnation, she much preferred a Karmic attachment to him.
"Do you believe in this reincarnation?" she asked.
He smiled, a secretive, almost frightening smile. "Definitely."
It made it valid all of a sudden. If Steve said it was so, why it must be so. Something dark and fearful crept through her. She felt as if her personality, her individuality, had left her. She was a puppet, subject to him, obedient to whatever string of her life he chose to pull. Yet under the fear was a gleeful willingness to obey him; he was her revenge on Dan, on the judge, their personal nemesis and therefore her weapon against them, just as she was Steve's weapon against them.
Even as she mentally chided herself, Lorna wondered if she and Steve had met before in other lives. Suddenly, without warning, a line of long-forgotten poetry came to her.
You were a king of Babylon
And I was a Christian slave.
You saw, you took, you cast me by, You bent and broke my pride. . . . Suddenly, Steve grabbed her hand. He pressed it hard, squeezing it with such force that her rings cut into her flesh.
"We're going to make some money in Boston," he said, looking at her. "We're going to put on a sex show, for women. Hungry suburban housewives-like you used to be."