Chapter 7
HIS LOOK WAS PURE LUST AND SET HER TO SHIVERING....
At twelve thirty Jean parked her car in front of her father's apartment. She still hadn't had a chance to talk to him alone. His big car was in its slot, and she hoped Colleen wasn't around. She approached the apartment door and the sound of a pickup truck pulling into the parking area turned her around.
A big tall, broad-shouldered man climbed out. A shy smile touched his mouth, and she felt his brown eyes lingering on her. She had seen him in Troy. Hadn't he been sitting in Eddie's Bakery Bar the previous evening? Donna had come along and....
"Miss," the man said, hesitantly. "I'm looking for Sam Sampson...."
Jean smiled back at him. Her spirits had lifted a bit after Donna had left her apartment. Who was this big, virile devil, anyway? Probably married, like every other halfway decent male in the home town.
He walked nearer, and she could hardly believe that his admiring glaces were intended for her. She wore a light summer frock of pale yellow, tucked in at the waist, short skirted. She wore no nylons, as the day was turning warm. The skirt flared out so her hips wouldn't be quite so noticeable. The scooped neckline did display her breasts well, however. She had put on all fresh undies and a very light-weight slip.
"I'm Carl Zeller," the man said, still rather shyly. "A logging contractor...."
"You came to the right place," Jean said, brightly, flattered at his appraisal. "I'm Jean Sampson, Sam's one and only daughter. I'll see if he's in-his car's here."
"Thank you," Carl answered. "Glad to know you."
"Oh, call me Jean." She laughed. "All the local people call me Hips."
He flushed. She had never seen a grown man so confused. She observed that he wore no wedding ring. Of course, a. lot of married men didn't.
"Are you new in town?" she asked, checking her blonde har. She was in no hurry to ring Sam's doorbell. His brown eyes had a real warmth. Was he actually admiring her, big hips and all? Amazing! He looked around thirty-eight, maybe forty. His strong-looking face was tanned, and she considered him quite handsome. Maybe rugged and very manly were better words.
He wore a clean plaid shirt, open at the throat, and tight Levis. Not a trace of gray in his dark, wavy hair.
II he puts his hands on me, I'll go limp, she thought.
"Yes," he answered, at last. His voice was deep, masculine. "Is your father still connected with the mill?"
"No, he's sold out-just the finishing touches to take care of...." She walked toward him, her heart pounding. "I'm a very direct person, Carl, and I'm very glad to know you!" She laughed, winking. "I envy your wife."
He flushed again. He actually took a step backward! "I'm ... not married, Jean."
Well, what do you know! she said, to herself.
She smiled. "I'm not either.'"
He stood there, nervously. She was sure he wanted to say something positive; he seemed quite excited, but obviously he was much too backward to make the first move....
"I can see Dad later," she said, in her friendliest tone." She glanced across the street where a new luncheonette had recently been opened.
"Would you consider buying me a coke?"
"Sure!"
They walked across to the luncheonette. He was at least six-two. Her heart fluttered. There were a lot of naive men in the world, but generally the good-looking ones were too forward, too sure of themselves. They had all the right answers, and they liked the slender, round-bottomed gals with the model figures.
"I kid around a lot, Carl," she said. "So if I say something to embarrass you, just forget it ... Are you always so quiet?"
He nodded. His smile made her shiver. He had even white teeth. She could tell by looking at him that he was successful; around men he no doubt acted more sure of himself.
"I saw you in the Bakery Bar last night," he said, as they neared the lunch counter.
She felt a sharp nudge of excitement. "Really? I'm flattered you noticed." She added a little dryly. "I usually play second fiddle to the slim girls-like the gal I was talking to...."
"She didn't appeal to me," he said, seeming to find it easier to talk.
"You're killing me with kindness," she answered, very glad now she had gotten rid of Donna.
They entered the cafe and Jean led the way to a booth at the rear. He sat down opposite her, his eyes still warm, lingering on the contours of her breasts. She knew the cleft between them was visible. She leaned toward him so he could see more, if he wished.
A hunger seemed to build in his eyes. Yes. he was looking, right down between her charms ... Then, as though caught snitching candy, he jerked his gaze away.
The waitress came and he busied himself with looking at the menu, sipping water from his glass. Jean watched the young girl admire Carl. He was that kind of man. He ordered coffee and Jean had a coke. The waitress gave Jean a cool glance, as if to say, what can he see in that tub? The girl was slender and well-proportioned.
When the waitress left, Jean laughed softly.
"She likes you, Carl."
He acted confused. "I'm satisfied with you."
She smiled her thanks. She swung the conversation around to his business. She had worked in the mill office, and she understood his work. He was opening up, becoming more relaxed. It was good to be near him, and a slim hope began to build within her.
At last he made the opening she wanted. "Are you ... doing anything tonight, Jean?"
"No...."
"Would you possibly go out with me?"
"I'd love it," she said, her heart jumping a-round. "If you can stand such a big girl!"
"Don't say things like that," he admonished. "You're ... very nice and-I like you!"
If he only knew what I was doing this morning, she thought, guiltily.
As she walked back across the street, waving to Carl, her whole day seemed brighter. He had her address and phone number and he was coming by to pick her up at eight o'clock.
I'll have to stall Donna off, she thought. She was still shivery inside, thinking about Carl. His reserved manner, his way of treating her as a special person, not so much in what he said, but the way his eyes held hers, the small gestures of his big, capable hands, made her feel like a young girl again.
He was treating her like a lady!
After her reckless years of renting males, growing rather hardened inside, taking what thrills she could find, this was a totally new experience.
Having such a big, completely virile man, a man of quality, pay her compliments with his glances, was a. very uplifting sensation, making her feel deliciously feminine.
If only he wasn't so shy!
She realized, as she had before, that she could probably find and marry some if she weren't too fussy. But it would be a degrading move to take just anybody. She had sex appeal; she always kept herself neat and well-groomed. The men she had bought hadn't ever complained, but then they couldn't very well, she thought wryly. It was simply that she had decided to have fun without losing her head and her heart to just anything with pants on. She had seen girls do that.
But could she adjust her moral concepts back into reasonably normal channels?
Men apparently could do it, easily. Married males were a whore's best customers. She knew local men of stature who slipped into Missoula now and then and took on a prostitute.
But why split hairs? Maybe Carl simply wanted female company for a while. Anything beyond that she didn't plan on. Being treated like a lady might be refreshing, at least! Maybe he liked big-hipped girls.
If she and Carl didn't hit it off, she could go back to her old ways. At least she wouldn't lose her pride. She wouldn't marry some slob.
Meanwhile, she had to see Sam. Colleen was moving in for the kill.
She punched Sam's doorbell button, heard the muffled chiming inside, and a moment later the door opened.
Her father smiled. "Come on in! We've hardly had a chance to talk since you came back."
"Hardly," she said. From his manner she knew Colleen wasn't around. She decided not to mention Carl Zeller. She wanted to think about that some more, and then wait to see what was going to happen, if anything.
Her father always acted a little formal a-round her. He didn't hug her or kiss her on the cheek, as he had when she was younger. She felt she was something of an enigma to him. She hadn't married, she had developed a kind of aloofness, from being alone so much. She got the idea that somehow she had disappointed him; he had old-fashioned ideas. Perhaps he had wanted an heir, a grandson.
And she was bothered sometimes by the impression that he might have wished for a son instead of a daughter.
"I'm glad you came home right away, for the wedding," Sam remarked, waving her into a chair.
"I'd like to talk to you about that," she answered. "Are you sure Colleen's the right woman for you, Dad?"
He scowled. She thought he looked a little tired. She smiled to herself when she thought of how she had cheated him out of his fun the night before. He was probably overdoing the sex bit, especially for a man of his years.
"I know what people are saying," Sam replied, on the defensive. "She's been married several times, she's after my money ... But ... But she's a grand girl, Jean. Attractive, considerate." He paced as he talked, a habit he had had for years. "Don't you want me to enjoy life a little, now? The mill's sold...." He stopped in front of her. "Are you thinking about my will? Is that it?"
Jean felt a little uncomfortable. Sam was no fool when it came to business.
"You've treated me very well, Dad. Maybe you even spoiled me a little with money ... But I hate to see you rush into this. Colleen's a lot younger than you. Are you sure you can make her ... happy?"
It was a old trite expression, but she couldn't say right out, are you sure you can give her enough? Are you sure she won't be out cheating on you?
Sam finished, "I don't think that's any of your business!"
"Sorry, Dad...." She realized she had made a mistake. She had wounded his maleness. She would have to be more subtle.
She left the chair and walked up to him. She touched his arm. "I really am sorry...." if he gets too mad he might disinherit me! Colleen is a very lovely girl-and I wish you all the luck in the world!"
He smiled, and the hurt in his eyes disappeared. "Now, that's better! I was a mite embarrassed yesterday. You came in at a rather inconvenient time...."
She laughed. "I'm grown up. I like a little fun myself once in a while."
He cleared his throat, his neck still a little red. They had never talked this way.
She thought, if he had come out of the bathroom and seen his sweetie playing herself to a climax, what would he do? Where would his pride as a lover be?
"I keep forgetting you're a woman, now," he answered, finally. "If you have a boy friend in Santa Barbara, why didn't you bring him a-long?"
"I can wait till I get back," she said, winking.
He flushed again.
If he knew what I've been doing, he'd flip, she thought. But Donna will keep her mouth shut.