Chapter 13
Charlotte reached down to adjust her hose.
"Anyway," she said, "I've got good legs." She laughed out loud.
Carol, watching her dress, looked at the woman's legs.
"No comment?" Charlotte asked.
"You're getting plump," Carol told her.
The smile left Charlotte's face. For a quick instant she hated the girl for her youth and looks, however, the smile returned. "It's middle-age spread," she said. "What brings on your hostility this fine, bright morning?"
Carol said nothing.
Charlotte wiggled into her blouse. "You are acting strange, you know. You're so damn restless. You've been smoking up a storm."
Carol ground the cigarette she was smoking into the ashtray. The gesture reminded her of the previous day when she jabbed the cigarette into the pool boy's thigh.
"Nothing's the matter,'" she shrugged.
"Something happen yesterday while I was away?"
"No."
"Well then, what? "
"Oh, leave me alone, Charlotte."
Charlotte looked at Carol, then shrugged. "Let's have our breakfast and get some work done," she said, leaving the room.
The rest of the day dragged on and, try as she might, Carol could not offset the oppression that engulfed her. She avoided Charlotte's glances, spoke little and was furious with herself for making typing mistakes all day long.
For the first time Carol looked at Charlotte with great suspicion. Now, working with Charlotte, she felt tight inside-tight and possessed. Feeling this way infuriated her. She hated knowing that Charlotte could reach over at her own choosing and take her lips. She felt trapped, uncomfortable and resentful. How dare this woman take her for granted? How dare she buy her? In spite of everything Charlotte had done-was doing-it was all for Charlotte's good. Oh, she benefited, too; but the price for her was high. She was Charlotte's prisoner-a love prisoner. It was as simple as that, and she didn't like it. Didn't like it one damn bit!
What was so crazy about the whole thing was that she, Carol Lord, was trapped with a lesbian-and for how long? A year? Two years? The rest of Charlotte's life? The rest of her own life, perhaps?
Why couldn't it have been a man? It would have been different then. With a man she knew she could remain true. Men were all-satisfying. A woman was okay for a little while, but then one found things missing.
Yet-would one man really be able to satisfy her? Now that was a stupid question for her to ask herself. After all, the reason she'd been so promiscuous was because she didn't have a steady man.
You're a liar! a small voice inside her said.
"Carol, is there something wrong with the typewriter or is your mind rambling?" Charlotte asked.
"What's the matter?"
"Everything. Mistakes galore. This report has to be typed all over again." She handed Carol the papers. "Carol?"
"Yes."
"What's wrong? You seem so strange today?"
"I ... I don't feel well. I have a headache."
Charlotte opened her desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of aspirin. "Here, I'll get you a glass of water."
"I don't want any."
"Nonsense," Charlotte got up and walked to the bathroom. "It'll help your headache."
"I said I don't want any!"
Charlotte stopped in her tracks. "Carol? Why are you shouting?"
"You're enough to make anyone shout. You with your nine-to-five schedule, your meticulous, clinical ways, your demands, your orders-I'm sick of it."
Charlotte stared, her eyes wide with concern.
"I'm tired of a lot of other things, too. You don't just come grabbing me when you want me. Hear? I'm not your slave. There's a lot of things I'm not, even though you think-"
"Carol!" Charlotte looked at the almost hysterical girl. "You're trembling. Oh, Carol." She went to the girl. "You aren't well. I'm sorry. I should have realized."
"I-I'll be all right," Carol mumbled, pulling away from Charlotte's touch.
"Look. Why don't you take the day off? Go on outside in the warm sun. Go for a ride or take a walk." Charlotte shook her head. "It's the tension, Carol. I know that. It's the tension. You've been driving yourself too hard."
Carol got to her feet. "Yeah. Maybe you're right. That's what it is, I guess. I think I will go for a ride. I'll saddle up Smoky." At the door she turned back. "I-I really didn't mean to say all those things-I mean I-"
"Don't say another word, Carol. I understand." Charlotte watched Carol leave, then stared at the closed door. "I understand, Carol," she whispered.
Every time she left Carol alone on the plantation there seemed to be a change in the girl when she returned. And the change was long-lasting. This morning Carol literally resented her. The torrent of words-accusations really-that tumbled from Carol's lips were very revealing. So that's the way Carol felt.
What the hell had gone wrong? Wasn't she giving Carol everything she needed? Need ... want ... need ... want. There was a difference. All right then, what did Carol want?
like a puzzle set before her, she began to put the parts together, piecing a picture of the previous day. It had to be someone. A man? It had to be a man to make Carol feel so damn guilty, to bring on the headache, to make her feel bitter, resentful. But who? Who could it be? Cal had been with her. So had young Abraham. These were the only two men-attractive men, on the ranch. The field hands? No, most were old and worn. But the girls Cal had hired, there were two or three of them who were quite attractive, working in the fields. Could it have been one of them? Oh, but Carol couldn't-wouldn't. Or would she?
I can't protect Carol from the world, and I can't permit myself to think this way. I must not be suspicious and calculating, and possessive. Why not? Of course I can. I can, because I love Carol, I want to keep Carol, and because I desperately need Carol.
You protect things you love-people you love. You protect them for yourself and you watch over them, and, when they are as young as Carol, you mold them, cut off the past, dig out the temptations and shape them in your own image ... and sometimes you protect them from themselves ... and Carol needed protection.
Charlotte picked up a pencil and made circular marks around a page of figures. Carol was bothered by-something, and that something was here on the plantation. She would have to find out what it was.
The muffled trotting sound of a horse made Charlotte look up from her work. Rising, she went to the window and saw Carol on Smoky heading up the bridle path toward the pond.
Carol would bear watching! Charlotte left the window and returned to her desk.
At the pond, Carol got off the horse and led him to the water where he lowered his head and drank. She then tied him to a bush and walked along the pond's edge. Lazily, she flung herself down on the grass and squinted up at the sun.
Carol realized she had made another mistake. She should never have said those things to Charlotte. It would only make her suspicious. But the words just kept coming out. It was wrong. She had suppressed her true feelings about the woman-she realized that now. Suppressed them, accepted Charlotte's generosity and love for her own benefit. In short, she was a phony. She wanted to have her cake and eat it, too.
Her thoughts were broken by the sound of giggling. Carol brought herself up, turned toward the direction of the sound and listened closely. Again the laughter sounded in the distance. She got to her feet and made her way toward the sounds.
Lowering herself, she slid down a rock and walked toward the tall bushes. The voices were quite clear now. There was a loud, slapping sound followed by a squeal.
Carefully, quietly, Carol parted a side of the bush and looked.
There were two girls and Abraham, the foreman. They were all naked. One of the girls, the dark-haired one, was short, robust, her oversized breasts thrusting forward heavily. In contrast, the other girl was blonde and tall, her firmly erect breasts uptilted and capped by large pink nipples. Abraham stood over the girls, his legs parted, his hands on his hips, the muscles of his back and buttocks strongly outlined, his dark body gleaming in the sunlight.
He knelt, his back to Carol. She could see the heavy, loose testicles almost touching the grass. She didn't want to look-she certainly had stumbled upon this by accident-but there it was for her to see as big as life.
"Honey, don't you ever give that thing any rest?" the short girl asked.
"You know about young Abraham," the blonde giggled.
"No, tell me," the other girl said.
"He can go eight times in a row. And I can vouch for that." She held her arms out, beckoning to him.
Abraham took the girl's hands and brought her up to him. He kissed her, then scooped her up and lowered her to the grass.
Carol held her breath. He was facing her now. Her eyes widened in lust when she saw his manhood. He fell over the blonde girl, and she laughed, playfully struggling as he tried to kiss her. Then his lips found her mouth, and she stopped struggling. Her arms reached up and entwined his neck, crushing him to her.
"Hey, you two," the other girl called. "We only got ten minutes left for lunch. Ain't you going to eat?" The couple ignored her. "Well, I'm hungry." She unwrapped a sandwich and bit into it.
The blonde girl wrapped her legs around Abraham's waist.
"Abraham," she whispered, her steamy buttocks rising up from the grass. "Do it to me good ... real good."
Watching, Carol felt a frustrated passion in her. She saw the young, dark body take the girl, saw them fall back on the soft grass, their naked bodies glistening in the sun's rays. She heard the blonde girl cry out her pleasure as Abraham's powerful body dug into her in long thrusts. The girl stiffened then relaxed then fell back with a moan. They lay that way for a few minutes, then Abraham got to his feet, the great penis now limp between his dark thighs. He turned to the other girl.
"Oh, no you don't," the girl said. "Once is enough!"
Carol swallowed hard.
"Come on, we got to get back to work," the short girl said.
Abraham threw himself on the grass, covering his eyes from the sun. The girl's panties lay in the grass next to him. He reached for them then threw them up to the blonde. She smiled down at him and dressed.
"See you tomorrow, same place, same time," the blonde told Abraham.
"Right," he said.
The blonde leaned down and rubbed her cheek against his hairless chest. "Tomorrow," she said. "I can't wait." Then she got up joined her friend and they strolled up a narrow path.
Abraham rose, dressed, and returned to the fields.
Quietly, carefully, Carol crept away and made her way back to the horse. She glanced at her watch. It was twelve-thirty. The ranch hands had a half hour for lunch. That meant the girls would be back tomorrow at twelve.
She climbed on top of the horse and turned him around.
A smile crept over her lips. She would be here tomorrow at eleven-thirty. A half hour before the girls arrived.