Chapter 11

SHE RUBBED HER BODY SEDUCTIVELY AGAINST ME

"What on earth did you do to her?" Judy questioned the following morning.

"Why? Isn't she better?"

"Better? Judy exclaimed. "She's not Aunt Cleo any more. She was up at the crack of dawn this morning, in the kitchen making breakfast and singing at the top of her lungs. Mama and I can't get over the change. She hasn't complained once. Archer, you've got to tell me what you did to her."

"I got her drunk and raped her," I admitted.

Judy burst into laughter. "Oh, Archer, be serious. I know you didn't do that. She would have died of a heart attack."

"Don't underestimate Aunt Cleo." I informed my dream girl. "There's still plenty of life in that old girl."

"Please, won't you tell me what happened," Judy pleaded.

"Let that be Aunt Cleo's and my secret."

Judy came over to the shack every morning and made breakfast for me. Then she would tidy up the place and pose for me. In the period of a week, we were like a married couple only without a sexual relationship. We were affectionate with each other, kissing and fondling playfully, but that was as far as Judy allowed things to go.

By the end of the week, my work on the painting was completed. It was the best thing I had done. I had put my heart into that work. Something was happening within me. I could feel the change taking place in my mind and my body. Judy was in my thoughts constantly.

Sunday morning found us hiking for miles over the green countryside, holding hands, sharing each other's closeness.

"We're in trouble, Judy," I said.

"What do you mean," she answered with concern.

"Damn you, I've falling in love with you. I've tried to fight it, but it's no good."

"I think I'm falling in love with you too," she confessed.

"You only think?" I cried. "Let me kiss you and then tell me you're not sure." I threw my arms around her, pressed my body against hers. I hadn't had a women for days, which was unusual for me. Immediately, I felt a tremendous reaction.

"No, Archer, please," she pleaded. "It's dangerous. I'm not made of stone."

"Coward!" I jeered.

We laughed merrily, then despite her resistance, she kissed me hungrily. Then restraining her emotions, she broke free of me, took my hand firmly and led us back to the main road.

But I noticed she was breathing heavily.

Just the touch of her soft, smooth hand in mine, made my heart feel like it was going to burst. I had it bad for this girl, and I wondered just how long I could hold out.

One evening Judy made dinner for me, after which I took her to the movies. It was a pleasant evening in which nothing happened until we reached the front porch of her house.

Slowly and gently I pulled Judy to me and planted a meaningly kiss on her lovely mouth. She was so frighteningly young and beautiful. I was lost in the incredible sweetness of her soft, warm mouth as our tongues delicately sought each other and became entwined in the rapture of love.

My hand creeped over her full round breasts and she moaned softly and pressed my hand tighter against her body. Passion soared, caution was deserted, and my free hand crept beneath Judy's miniskirt to caress her soft, velvet thighs. But as soon as I began to move higher to the rear of her crotch, she closed her legs, imprisoning my fingers in a trap of flesh.

"No, my darling wonderful man," she sighed. "Please be patient with me." Though her breathing was rapid she pushed me back firmly but gently. Then she place a light kiss on my forehead.

I was gasping with desire. I leaned forward again and kissed the velvet smoothness of her swan-like neck, then nibbled at her shell-like ear.

"Archer?"

"Yes, Judy," I sighed. "Would you consider marrying me? I think I love you enough to satisfy all your desires."

I drew back and gazed in awe at the lovely golden face. Her eyes were brimming with tears.

I took her hand in mine and tears began to well up in my eyes too. I'd never felt like this before. Her sweet honesty and directness nearly broke my heart. "Tomorrow, Judy, if you'd have me. I'd try ... I'd try like hell to make you a good husband."

"Then let's think about it," she replied, leaning in to me and licking my lips with her tongue.

I tried to take her in my arms again, but she resisted and ran into the house before she broke down completely.

The following morning there was a phone call from Odell.

"Haven't heard from you for awhile," he said. "I thought I better check and see if you're still alive."

"I've been painting," I announced. "You've been carrying on with that young Criswell girl across the road," he corrected me. "Now how did you know about that?"

"Kid, this is a small town. It's not San Francisco. Word gets around. Your private life catches up with you quickly in Richfield." He exploded with a laugh. "They tell me that Estelle and I are getting a divorce."

I stiffened. "Are you, Odell?"

"Not to my knowledge, we aren't, but that's what they're chattering about in town. Are you going to be in?"

"Yes, why?"

"I'd like to drop over and talk to you."

"Why don't I drive over and see you, Odell? Your place is nicer."

"Okay. Can you come right away?"

"I'll leave now."

I took the painting of Judy with me to show to Odell. I wanted to find out if he saw any improvement in my work.

Odell had a drink ready for me when I got there. I flopped in an easy chair and took out my cigarettes as Odell examined the canvas of Judy with keen interest. I was sweating uneasily waiting for his opinion.

After a few minutes of holding the painting up to the light, examining the detail brush work, Odell announced, "Now you've got something, boy. This has dimension ... substance ... and style. But your style has changed from something harsh and bitter to something soft and delicate."

"I'm glad you like it," I beamed with relief. Odell's opinion meant something. It meant that perhaps I did nave a future.

"Man, you're in love," he stated abruptly, still studying the painting of Judy.

My head shot up. "What did you say?"

"You heard me correctly," Odell replied. "You got all the symptoms. That's good, kid. That means you'll be settling down. It also means everything in your past is dead and buried."

"Now, hold on," I interrupted. "I'm not married yet."

"You will be. Guys like you always get caught eventually, and not by those city girls ... but by sweet, wholesome country girls like Judy Criswell."

I flushed, but didn't deny that he was right. "So what did you want to see me about, Odell?"

"Now that you're getting serious about your painting, and it looks like you'll be hanging around for awhile, I want to get your life and adventures down on paper. I'm convinced it will make a good story ... a commercial one, anyway."

"So, you have my permission. Just give me a cut."

"You're going to have to do some work," Odell informed me. "Like what?"

"Well, I want you to set aside a couple of days a week, sit down with a tape recorder I'll get for you and just start talking about everything you remember."

"Everything?" I questioned.

"Everything ... in detail. Your sex life is what I'm mainly interested in ... 'cause that's what's going to sell. Later I'll compile everything and put it down on paper...."

"What are you going to call this book, I asked.

Modern Satyr," he announced, letting the title roll of his tongue. He drained his glass and crossed back to the bar for a refill. "Want another, kid?"

"No thanks. I'm still working on the first one."

"If it's okay with you, Estelle and I are going to have a little party for you in a couple of days ... sort of a welcome home party. It'll give you a chance to meet a lot of our friends."

"I've never had a party given for me. That will be very nice, Odell. Thank you. May I bring Judy?"

Odell paused to consider the request. "I don't think so, kid. Let's keep Judy out of it. It might spoil the image I want to establish for you."

I busted out laughing. Life was so ironical. Here I was trying to fight my image and my old friend Odell was trying to exploit it in Richfield.

What a man won't do for the Almighty buck!