Chapter 10

SHE CLAWED AT ME LIKE A WILD THING....

It was shortly after nine o'clock in the evening. I was stretched out on the floor with the lights out, listening to records and thinking about a most unusual young lady who answered to the name of Judy.

A piercing scream from across the road cut through the soft music.

I leaped to my feet and ran to the door. Standing in the doorway to my shack gazing at Judy's house across the road, nothing seemed to be out of order. I was contemplating going over to investigate, when Judy flew out of her house and ran across the road to my shack. During her flight, there was another piercing scream that came from her house.

"What's is it, Judy? What's wrong?"

It's Aunt Cleo. I think she's having a fit. Mother and I can't handle her. Would you come?

"Of course."

I shut the door to the shack and followed Judy across the road. She paused in front of the battered front door and turned around to me. "When she sees you, Archer, I warn you it's going to be a shock. She has an idea that men are poisonous, so be prepared.

I braced myself, and followed Judy into the house.

A gray-haired little woman with a distressed expression on her face stood in the center of the room waiting. Judy crossed into her.

"Mama, this is Mr. Nelson from across the way."

"How do you do, Mrs. Criswell?"

"Hello," the woman said warmly but weakly. "I knew your mama. She was a good woman."

"Where's Aunt Cleo?" Judy asked somewhat grimly.

"In the kitchen crying," replied Mrs. Criswell. "She says she's gonna kill herself, if we leave her alone."

The kitchen door burst open and a slim figure of a woman appeared in a worn-out terry cloth robe and ragged slippers. "Who's out here?" She stopped dead as she caught sight of me standing in the center of the room. "Oh" she squealed," a man!

"Cleo, this is our neighbor from across the way," Mrs. Criswell introduced. "Mr. Nelson."

"Was that you I heard screaming, Aunt Cleo?" I said as I extended my hand.

She took my hand reluctantly, inspecting it first to make sure it was clean. Her hand felt damp and cold. "My sister has mice," she stated) her beady eyes glaring malevolently at Mrs. Criswell. "She catches them and then let 'em go, just to scare me." Quite obviously she wore nothing underneath the old terry cloth robe, but it didn't matter. She had very little to conceal. She was hopelessly flat-chested.

"You know, Aunt Cleo, I'm a great mouse chaser," I said slowly and softly in order not to confuse the old girl. "Take me to the kitchen and show me where you saw the mouse."

"But I don't know you," Aunt Cleo exclaimed.

I leaned forward and whispered in her ear. "I'm here to help you, Cleo. I want you to tell me privately what's going on."

"Oh terrible things," she moaned, as she led the way into the kitchen and closed the door. "Are you the police?"

"No," I confessed. "I'm just your neighbor. I heard you screaming and I came to protect you."

She stared at me with misgivings. "To protect me?"

"Yes, ma'am." I pulled up a chair and sat at the kitchen table prepared to listen to a long tale of woe ... anything to win her confidence.

"Oh, that's nice of you," she said as she crossed to the kitchen stove and poured two cups of coffee. "My sister is an evil, evil person. She hates me. She tortures me sometimes."

She returned to the table with two cups of coffee and sat in a chair next to mine.

"How does she torture you, Aunt Cleo?"

"Oh various ways, like scaring me with the mice. I have a weak heart and I think she's trying to scare me to death."

"Well, let me tell you about the mice. I have them too, but they're little field mice that have been released by a hospital laboratory. You see we've had an invasion of a poisonous insect that's been destroying all the crops in this area."

"Is that the truth," she murmured in awe.

"Yes ... and these little mice are the only creatures who eat the insects. So if you see a mouse, just remember that it's doing a job ... it's helping to rid us of these hideous insects."

"Is that the truth," she repeated again. "I detest insects too."

"But you see your sister didn't release the mice to scare you."

"Well, maybe not," she admitted reluctantly. "But I get so nervous, I don't know what to believe sometimes. I suffer from awful migraine headaches."

"You don't say. Would you believe I suffer from them too?"

"Is that the truth," she sad as she slurped her coffee. "What do you do about them?"

"Take long walks, and while I'm walking I do deep breathing exercises."

"Oh, does that help?"

"It works for me every time ... much better than pills."

"Oh, I never take pills. I'm a Chrsitian Scientist."

"Why don't you try taking long walks?" I suggested.

"Alone? No, I'd be afraid to go out alone. A lady isn't safe nowadays with all these mad sex maniacs on the loose. I read the papers. I know."

I learned forward. "Aunt Cleo," I said. "I was just about to take a walk. Why don't you come with me. The fresh air will do you a world of good."

She opened her beady eyes and glared at me suspiciously. But after a moment or two, she considered it. "I haven't been out of the house in days."

"Walk with me. I'll protect you, Aunt Cleo."

She gave me a. toothy smile. "You're a nice man to want to help me. Nobody else cares whether I live or die."

"I do, Aunt Cleo. Come on, get dressed, and we'll just walk out of here and leave your sister and Judy flat. We'll just leave them alone for a change."

Aunt Cleo clapped her hands gleefully. "Oh, that would serve them right, wouldn't it?" Stiffly, she got up from the table. "And we won't tell them where we're going, will we?"

"No ... we'll just let them worry."

"Good." The old girl shuffled out of the kitchen.

A few moments later Judy entered the kitchen, in a state of bewilderment. "She's getting dressed," she exclaimed. "Where are you taking her?

"Out for a little walk ... maybe a drive in the car, just to get her out for awhile."

"Archer, how on earth did you get her to agree to go with you? Mama and I are flabbergasted."

I smiled at Judy. "It's my charm!

Judy chuckled. "Even old ladies!"

"Oh, they are my best victims." I said. "Now if I can get Aunt Cleo to take a few drinks...."

"You'll never get her to take a drink. She thinks drinking is a sin."

"Want to bet I bring Aunt Cleo back here stoned out of her mind? If I can just pull her out of herself, I think it will make all the difference."

"Oh, Archer, if you only could," Judy sighed. "You don't know what Mama and I have to put up with."

"Yes I do," I said, taking Judy's hand in mine, and kissing her fingers. "For your sake, I hope I can do some good."

Judy leaned over and planted a kiss on my lips. "Thank you, Archer, for taking the time to do this."

"I have an ulterior motive." I teased. "If I make a new woman out of Aunt Cleo, you will be obligated to me."

When Aunt Cleo returned, she was wearing a faded floral print dress that was a size too large for her. "Let's leave here, young man," she said with a conspiratorial little smile. On the way out, she turned to her sister and warned. "You'll be sorry. I may not come back ... and you'll be left here alone. Maybe the poisonous insects will take over." Making her exit, she attempted a bold strut which was laughable.

We walked up the road for almost a mile, saying very little to each other, but taking deep breaths of fresh air. For awhile she was puffing like a locomotive and became wobbly on her feet. I knew the heavy breathing was making her lightheaded and dizzy. For a moment I thought the old girl was going to keel over on me, right there in the middle of the dirt road.

"How do you feel, Cleo," I asked solicitously.

"It's still there," she replied, "but it's getting less. My head feels light."

"You see. Fresh air and exercise relieves tension. That's what causes those migrains ... tension. Now if we only had a drop of my tonic...."

"Tonic? What tonic?" she said thickly, but with a gleam in her eyes.

"I have some very special tonic that my doctor has prescribed for my headaches. It's wonderful ... works miracles. After one dose, I feel like I've been reborn."

"Well, where is this tonic," Cleo said licking her lips, swaying slightly.

"At my place. Would you like some?" We can go there."

She pressed her claw-like hand to her forehead as if she was confused and in doubt. "There's not alcohol in it, is there?"

"Oh there might be a little in it," I replied. "Alcohol relaxes you, relieves tension ... like fresh air."

"Drinking is a sin ... an evil sin," she stated loudly.

"Now, Aunt Cleo, you know that's not so. If drinking was a sin, God would not have allowed whiskey to be invented. Why even the Catholic church allows its priests a little wine at Mass."

"That's very true."

"And I'm sure God doesn't want you to-suffer from pains in your head."

Well, I'll try anything, if it will make me feel better," Cleo announced. "Take me to your place for some of that tonic."

I took her arm and led her back down the road to my shack, where I planned to serve her some rare old brandy Odell had presented to me when I left his house. She stumbled quite a bit and I was forced to put my arm around her to keep her steady on her feet.

"Oh, dear," she protested with a light chuckle, "you behave yourself, you naughty boy."

I tightened my arm around her waist, drawing her closer to me and stroking her bony arm. Then I extended my finger to tickle her flat breast. She giggled out a vague protest. "You know, Cleo," I said," a good looking woman like you ought to have somebody looking out for you ... doing things for you."

"I don't have anybody," she trembled.. "Nobody cares if I live or die."

"I care, Cleo," I declared. "I'm going to make it my job to see that you get all the good things you deserve."

For a moment I thought she was going to cry. She paused in the middle of the road and all at once, the old girl threw her arms around my neck and pressed her scrawny body against mine. I'd never had an old spinister ... not one as old as Cleo ... but I'd heard that they are sometimes twice as passionate as young chics. I made up my mind that I was going to find out. I brought my mouth down over her thin lips and stabbed her with my tongue and she began to shake like an earthquake. I dropped one of my arms and squeezed her thin, bony thigh with my fingers. Then I felt her tongue dart out and explore the roof of my mouth. All the while she kept bumping and grinding her pelvis into my groin.

After a bit, she disengaged herself. "Oh, dear ... what's come over me. Maybe too much fresh air."

"The tonic will definitely calm you down, Cleo," I suggested.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" she replied and began to wobble down the rOad like a lame chicken, teetering a little to the right and then to the left. When she made up her mind about something, she was a determined old girl.

The moment we got inside my place, Cleo was so nervous, she had to go to the bathroom to relieve her kidneys. While she busied herself in the bathroom, I poured out two tall brandies, I turned the lights out and lit a few candles. Then I selected the most romantic music I could find on the radio. I needed all the help I could get to see me through this ordeal with the old girl. In a way I was punishing myself for all the wrongs I might have done to other women I didn't look forward to screwing the pants off this old broad but I wanted to do it. I knew it was what she needed, I figured I would think better about myself, if I did good for somebody else besides myself.

I braced myself for the ordeal by having a couple of shots before Cleo tottered out of the bathroom, adjustiing her loose-fitting dress. What a pathetic sight she was. I could hardly wait to get her stoned out of her mind.

"Where's the tonic?" she demanded. "Right here, Cleo, my girl, "I declared, holding up her glass, then placing it firmly in her hand.

Let me tell you, she gulped down that brandy like it was water and was soon asking for more, never questioning if it was alcohol or not. At one point she accused herself of being a naughty girl, but she didn't labor the point. Three glasses of brandy and old Cleo was on her feet waltzing around the room, bumping into tables and chairs. Once I thought she was going to fall flat on her face and I leaped up to catch her.

Snuggled in my arms, she began to weep on my shoulder. "Oh, this is naughty and wicked," she cried. "I've tried to be Godly, but it has only brought me misery and loneliness."

"Don't cry, Cleo," I said soothingly. "How do you feel now?"

She stopped crying long enough to consider how she felt. "Like I've ben reborn. Wonderful. I know I'm bringing doom and shame upon myself, but I don't care. I want to be broken in. Kiss me quick.

She grabbed me around the neck like a wrestler. I bent to my stask, thrusting my tongue deep into her moist, hungry mouth. She sucked on my tongue like a fiend. Maybe this would not be as distasteful as I thought.

I started to undo the buttons on her print dress and once this was done I began to stroke her flat, bony rump.

"Oh wicked ... wicked world," she sighed, but made no effort to disengage herself. "We will go to hell for this."

"Then let's go to hell, Cleo, and feel good while we're en route," I said, as I pulled down her dress and drew it off of her skin and bones. One shoulder strap of her soiled slip snapped as I tugged it away. Poor thing had no need for a brassiere. There was nothing to fill. She was as flat-chested as I was. I stared sadly at those nubs on her chest, then set my lips to them and was surprised to find that they grew amazingly under a prodding tongue. I kept this up until I produced a moan of joy from Cleo. She was beginning to get recharged and wiggled her body expectantly.

I reared back and grasped the top of her panties. As I began to move the panties down over those bony hips, I was smiling lasciviously at Cleo's moaning reaction. Her eyes were rolling to the back of her head, her neck was strained and her claw-like hands were doubled up into fists. Once her panties got past her buttocks, they just dopped to the floor and rested in a heap around her ankles.

With both hands, I lifted her frail body and dragged her to the sofa. She was like putty in my hands. The brandy had really affected her. She went limp on the sofa. Arching my back, I spread her legs and she began panting in short quick gasps. Already her eyes were slightly glazed. Carefully, I guided myself into her, remembering what she said about a weak heart.

"Oh ... oh, young feller," she squealed in my ear, and reared up at me.

Clutching those bony hips, I plunged deep into her socket. Immediately she began bucking like a mule. I hammered away at her unmercifully, sucking and biting her lips. The lights were low, fortunately, so I did not have to look at her. In the candlelight, she wasn't bad. She was most cooperative.

She grasped my rear end and clawed at my cheeks like a wild thing. All the while, she kept licking my neck. We were positioned well on the sofa, so I kept pounding away at her and decided against any variations. The normal way was thrilling enough for her.

The radio seemed to be cooperating as the music switched to an arrangement featuring dozens of sweeping plucking violins.

Higher and higher we traveled, plunging, rearing, my hard friction rasping her womanly softness. Believe me, the old girl was amazing. She wasn't bad ... not bad at all. She stiffened and screamed in a croaking voice. I rammed her again and again, making sure my final moments were the best. Then I felt myself giving way as life and passion burst forth in a great seeding flood of ecstasy.

Aunt Cleo reared once in her final struggle, gasped and momentarily blacked out.

Waving a glass of brandy under her nose, she came to quickly. Where am I?" she said in a firm voice.

I smiled, Aunt Cleo was like a woman reborn.