Chapter 6
Carol floated up out of deep sleep, reluctantly, feeling an exciting sensation in the region of her groin. She could have sworn there was a hand gently caressing her. Opening her eyes she looked up at the ceiling and realized she was back in her furnished room and not on a floating cloud with Charlotte. She got out of bed, shoved her feet into slippers and walked to the bathroom.
For two nights she'd been having these dreams-always about Charlotte. She even thought about her all during her working day. Strange, she thought, ever since that evening at Charlotte's hotel room, there had been absolutely no contact between them.
"Well, I tried," Carol said to the mirror. "I called her twice and left messages." She brushed her teeth, then took a shower. "I guess I didn't go over big with her." She dried her body with a towel.
Carol felt depressed. Since her meeting Charlotte, and these last two days, oppression hung over her like a thick fog. She had been doing okay in New Orleans. Hell, she wasn't making the kind of money she really needed, but she realized it would take time. She had chosen to remain here for another year-even longer-saving every cent she could get. Then she would go to college, take a teaching course, and, come hell or high water, remain in school until she'd gotten every credit she needed.
Today, right now, it seemed as if it would never happen. If only she had a pleasant job that paid more. Working at Mington's Department Store was for the birds. And going through the dancing bit twice a week paid very little. There had to be an easier way, she told herself.
Carol stared at her naked body in the full-length wall mirror. She passed a hand over her hips, over her curving breasts, down over her firm, flat stomach. For a split second there, she had almost convinced herself that her body should be used to benefit herself financially. Hell, she thought, girls with less than I have are hustling all over town. But no, that wasn't the answer. At least not now.
Again her hands roamed over the round sensual hips and thighs. Every boy-and girl-she'd ever been to bed with had spoken of her beauty. If she permitted herself, she could have been kept by a few of her admirers. But, somehow, that was distasteful to her. That was too easy and there would always be complications. She had enough brains to realize it wouldn't pay off. Most wanted her to live with them while she held a job-so, in a way, they really couldn't afford to keep her at all. It came back to her firm conviction: either you do it yourself, or you don't. Too bad she hadn't a really great ambition in life-like becoming a movie star or a model, or singing with a group. "No," she told her own reflection in the mirror. "I have to go and be average about the whole thing. I have to work my butt off."
She brushed her long, blonde hair, arranging it loosely about her shoulders.
Again she thought of Charlotte. There was something about the woman she liked. She couldn't explain it. She felt safe with her. Protected. A half-smile came to her lips. Charlotte was wild in the hay. She remembered the feel of Charlotte's soft belly against her. The woman's burning thighs, her arms around her neck, and the soft moans of rapturous pleasure Charlotte sounded at her touch. Well, that was another chapter in the book of her life. By now, Charlotte Watts was comfortably settled on a plane returning to her big, fat plantation.
Carol glanced at the clock. "Ten of eight. Hell, I'm going to be late," she whispered, slipping into a dress.
Just then there was a knock on her door.
"Yes? Who is it?"
"Me, honey," her landlady's voice said. "There's a call for you. Some man."
"Thank you," Carol said, buttoning her dress. Who could it be? Probably one of the few boys she had dated since her arrival.
She walked down the narrow hall and picked up the receiver hanging from the wall telephone.
"Hello?"
"Carol?"
"Yes."
"Yeah, baby. I saw you at the club the other night. Man, but you've got beautiful tits," the voice told her.
"What?" Carol's mouth fell open. Had she heard right?
"Boy, would I like to stick you, baby."
"Who is this?" she demanded.
"I'd love to rub my face in-between those gorgeous big boobs of yours."
Carol was shocked into silence.
"And then I'd like to take my hard penis and rub it against your stiff nipples."
Carol tried to speak, but no words came.
Now the man's voice turned into a whisper. "I've got my hand on it right now. I know you'd love it. Because it's big ... real big," his voice came in short little gasps. "Big and thick. First I'd make you kiss it, then I'd stick it right past your lips and shove it clear down your throat."
Carol froze. When she spoke, her voice was low and threatening. "Look, you lousy pervert. You better not ever call me again. Hear? Because if you do I'm going to call the police. And they'll find you; believe me, they know what to do with people like you!"
"That's it, cutie. Get mad," the excited voice said. "I like that. I can tell by your voice I got you all hot and bothered."
"Look-" Carol was going to talk, but she stopped herself when she heard his labored breathing.
"Man would I like to spread your thighs apart and shove it into you. I'd stick it as far as it would go. Man, I can hear you screaming now. I'd stick my tongue into your mouth and choke you, choke you until you begged me to stop. But I wouldn't stop. I'd kiss you until you couldn't breathe anymore and all the while my big, thick dick would be humping hell out of you. I'd cuddle up to those big tits of yours, grab hold of your cute little curvy ass and bring you close to me. You'd go out of your skull feeling me all hot and hard and throbbing inside of you-"
Carol cut him off. Quickly she returned the receiver to its cradle. She looked around the hall, feeling dizzy. Her hands were shaking, and her breathing was hard.
"Damn early morning calls," the landlady complained, brushing past Carol. "Woke me outta a nice sound sleep."
Carol stumbled back to her room and slumped on the bed.
How could anyone talk to her like that?
A chill raced up her spine-an ice-cold shiver of a chill. How did he know her telephone number? Whoever he was, he just might know her address. It was the club. The Pirate's Haven. All kinds of loose nuts went there. Her eyes fell on the clock and slowly reality crowded into her mind.
"I'm late for work," she gasped. She grabbed her purse, slammed the door shut and ran down the steps for the bus.
Charlotte Watts was troubled. For two days she had remained in the hotel room ordering her meals through room service, nixing calls announced by the telephone operator, not even bothering to open a letter sent by her overseer. All silent, all plugged, Charlotte smoked and paced the floor. For the past two days Charlotte had slept less, eaten less, and worried more than she ever had in her life.
She had chosen this silent refuge in order to sort out a clouded mind. She'd done enough thinking during this forty-eight hour period to make up for all unthinking moments in the two years she'd been alone. Slowly she was reaching a decision-a big one. But there were little threads that needed to be cut. There had to be a plan: a good, solid, logical plan to build upon. Oh, she'd thought about herself. How she looked. How she acted. How she reacted. And she thought about the consequences. Still, it was hard to make the decision.
Here she was, a thirty-five-year-old woman. Once almost beautiful. Now, with a new determination, a sudden interest in her physical appearance-new clothes, hairdo, and controlling her diet-she could almost cut off eight years. But she was attractive again simply because she felt an inner glow. All the things done to her would be of help, of course; but it was the way she felt that really did it. Okay. She was thirty-five, maybe looked twenty-seven. There were lines on her face but not enough really to call them wrinkles. She was short but had an adequate figure.
And Carol? Well, Carol was young-very young. Young and healthy and vigorous and beautiful.
Never for a moment had Charlotte dreamed it would happen. But it had. She simply did not want to leave Carol Lord.
It was a crazy idea, she knew that. But ... it could work.
She walked around the room' aimlessly, throwing herself into the activity of pacing. All the fatigue, all the awareness, all the pent-up emotions, all conscious thought submerged itself in the nervous strides she took to the window, to the door, to the bed, to the desk, covering every inch of the enormous hotel room.
First of all, would Carol go for it? That was something she would have to find out. Second, what would people think in Watts Town? She would have to disguise things with a perfectly logical reason. Third, would it work out? Would it be lasting? That, she decided, was something that had to be answered in time.
Carol was seeking something in life-the girl had told her that. She was seeking to better herself, mentally, spiritually; and she wanted security. Could she give Carol this? Was she willing to go all the way? It was a tremendous responsibility. It could fail. But then, it could turn out to be successful.
Charlotte stopped her pacing and glanced at her watch. Eleven-thirty. Reaching for the telephone, she waited for the operator's voice then asked for information. She got the telephone number of Mington's Department Store and dialed. She asked for the perfume counter.
"Cosmetic department," Carol's voice answered. "Carol."
"Yes."
"Charlotte."
"Hello, Charlotte." Carol sounded surprised. "Listen, Carol. What time is your lunch hour?"
"Twelve-thirty."
"Fine. I'll be there. I'll take you to lunch somewhere. I have to talk to you."
"Okay." Then she asked, "Is anything wrong?"
"No. Why?" Charlotte asked.
"I haven't heard from you. I thought you'd gone back."
"Look. We'll talk about it during lunch. If I'm going to get there I'd better get dressed."
"All right. Good-bye."
" 'Bye." Charlotte put the receiver back in its cradle. Quickly she turned and went into the bathroom. It was then that she smiled to herself. Everything is going to be all right. I just know it.
Within an hour Charlotte stepped out of a cab, paid the driver and hurried into Ming-ton's Department Store. When she got to the cosmetic department, Carol was waiting, purse in hand, a smile on her face.
Over lunch, Charlotte spoke rapidly, desperately, hoping she would be able to convince Carol of her sincerity. "So you see, I've done a lot of thinking. Carol, you don't have any ties here. You're as free as a bird. Come home with me."
Carol's expression was one of confusion. "With you?"
"I want you to work for me."
"Work?"
"As my secretary."
"But I can't even type."
"There's a business school fifteen miles from Watts Town. You can take two days off a week and attend a business class-they'll teach you everything you need to know. I'll drive you in twice a week myself."
"But-but-" Carol tilted her head questioningly. "I don't understand."
"Carol. I want you to have something better. I don't want to leave you here. In a furnished room. Dancing at that awful club. I'll worry about you. At the plantation you'll have your own room, a real home, and people waiting on you. There's horseback riding and golf and movies. You'll love it. I'll pay you well. Twice as much as you get now-three times as much-if you'll say yes."
Carol shook her head. "I don't know what to say."
"Say yes. Please."
"Charlotte, we hardly know each other. I mean-"
"I know enough about you to want to take you back with me," Charlotte whispered.
Carol could hardly believe her ears. "But things just don't happen this way!"
"Maybe that's the way they should happen then. I'm a woman who desperately needs you. Look, Carol. I'm rich-more than rich-"
"Charlotte! Do you think that for one second-"
"Oh, I don't know what in hell I'm saying. I'm just trying to entice you, to convince you it's a right decision for you to make. Carol, believe me, I'll treat you good. You can have anything you want-anything."
Carol stared into Charlotte's eyes.
"Why? Why do you want to do all of this? I mean there are lots of reasons you've given, but what's the real reason?"
"Because," Charlotte whispered, her eyes burning into Carol's. "I'm in love with you."
In the privacy of the corner booth, Carol reached over and grasped Charlotte's hand., "But, Charlotte," she said. "I'm not in love with you."
"I don't care," Charlotte answered quickly. "You told me you liked me. I'll accept that."
"Is it enough."
"Yes. Yes, it is."
"But an arrangement like this. It doesn't seem right. It's like something out of a paperback book."
Charlotte ignored the girl's laugh. "I want so much for this to work out. It is right, I know it is. Isn't it better for me to love you, to help you, guide you, take care of you, than for you to live alone? You're only nineteen! That's pretty young, especially when you've got nothing and live in this big city. There are a lot of awful people in the world. I could protect you from that." She looked into Carol's face with pleading eyes. "What do you say, Carol?"
Somehow the odds all seemed in Carol's favor. And it was risky in a city like this. That call she bad gotten this morning-that horrible voice telling her those things. Was that the start of many such incidents? Thinking of Charlotte's age, she came to the conclusion that age was no barrier. The facte were strong: a woman, a woman of means was interested in her-more-in love with her. Perhaps it was fate, and, perhaps, if she didn't grab it, it would never happen again.
The clouded expression on Carol's face gave way to a warm smile.
"All right, Charlotte," she whispered. "I say yes."