Chapter 7
Cal Hardin was a big man. Tall, strongly built, with large irregular features. He had lean hips, and his hard leg muscles were browned by the sun. His eyes were dark and keen, and, when he smiled, women melted. They melted when he frowned. They melted when they saw the anger in his eyes. Cal Hardin made women melt, period. He knew it; he understood it; he used it.
Life on the plantation had its good points. Being overseer on one of the biggest tobacco farms in the state of Louisiana placed him in great esteem with his friends. He made damn good money, and he was his own boss. He also knew how to save a buck. Many called him stingy, but he preferred to believe he was thrifty. Thrifty enough to know when not to pick up a bar tab.
Working for Charlotte Watts for the past two years had made him financially solvent. He stood in solid with Charlotte Watts. She was generous because he produced. He was a damn good overseer; he knew that, Charlotte Watts knew that. That's all that counted as far as he was concerned. Eventually he would benefit even more financially; of this he was sure. Charlotte Watts was kind and considerate and generous.
So things hadn't been half bad for a twenty-eight-year-old man, he thought, scratching off his beard with a safety razor. After he had shaved his face smooth enough, he washed off the rest of the lather with cold water and dried his face on a towel. He rubbed on some after-shave lotion; then he powdered his face and neck. After he brushed his teeth and combed his hair, he went back into the bedroom.
His glance went to the bed. She was still sleeping.
Seeing her in the light of morning he realized just how drunk he had been the previous night. If he had been sober he'd never have lugged that woman home. But hell, he thought, maybe she was a good lay, he had been too drunk to remember. What he liked were the golden, fresh, young bodies. He liked to lay them on the soft grass. This one, however, was past her prime. The harsh light of day showed the big mistake he'd made. Hell, he mused, she must be all of thirty. He never went for that bit about the riper the apple the better the bite. He knew a hell of a lot better. Breaking in a virgin was like breaking in a wild colt. It was exciting-a challenge. That was sex, man!
He stared hard at the sleeping naked female. His experienced eyes examined the lines in her face: the small beginnings of a double chin, the puffiness under the closed eyes, the stale makeup that gave her skin a cracked look, the smeared lipstick. Dark roots showed at her scalp. In the light of a new day this female looked twice the age he'd given her the night before.
His jaw set firmly. There weren't very many beautiful young girls in Watts Town. Occasionally he got a few, but that was rare. Most of the quail left town as soon as they were old enough to screw. He didn't much blame them: There was nothing here for them. No future. Nothing but tobacco growing for miles and miles, as far as the human eye could see. Well, it was part of the job, the part he didn't like and had to put up with.
His eyes went back to the woman. Even this was better than nothing. His gaze took in the naked body on the rumpled bed; the twin mounds, the round stomach, the long legs that needed a shave job, the fullness between her thighs. His gaze went to the face: long-jawed, almost heavy, thin lips, the lines of her face caked with hardened makeup. His eyes raced back to her breasts. They weren't bad-not bad at all. A fire began to smolder in his loins and he felt the slow swelling between his thighs.
To hell with her freaky face. She's got what I need!
As he walked to the sleeping figure, his thick throbbing manliness slapped against the in-sides of his muscular thighs.
"Wake up," he said.
Her eyes remained closed.
"Wake up." This time he shook her shoulder.
First she stirred, then she opened her eyes. She yawned and stretched her arms high into the air. Her eyes lighted up when she saw him. Her hand reached out and clasped his hardness.
He felt the heat boil up inside him.
"Ready to give it a try again?" she asked, her voice a husky whisper.
The blood rushed to his head.
She stared in fascination as he sprang forward like a sabre. The hair at his thighs glinted in the ray of sun streaming in through the windows.
"Baby," she purred. "Look at you."
"What do you mean?" he asked.
She stared at his penis, her eyes glued to his heavily veined hardness. "What a change from last night," she told him.
"That right?"
"I really had to work on that thing. I used everything, including this-" She leaned forward, opened her mouth and took him.
He groaned his pleasure at the feel of her lips on his hardness. Quickly he pulled away. "Easy, gal. Easy."
She ran her tongue up the sides of his slender hips, past his hairy navel to the mass of hair at his chest. She bit into his pectoral muscles, her teeth scraping away at his nipple.
"Ow!" he yelled.
"See?" she smiled. "Men like it too." Now her tongue circled his chest, disappearing under his armpits, traveled up to the back of his neck, intruded within his ear and slipped around his freshly shaven chin, then shot up into his mouth.
He took her darting tongue clasping his own around it and sucked in. He heard her moan.
They fell on top of the bed, his hands reaching out, pulling her to him. He grabbed hold of the soft flesh of her buttocks and tugged her closer to him.
"Hell!" she cried. "Damn it to hell." Her hand reached down and cupped his heavy hanging testicles. "Oh," she cried, "you're the biggest I've ever had. The biggest."
"You like that, huh?"
"Yeah. I like it good."
"How much, baby? Tell me, how much?"
"I like it so much I want to feel it deep inside of me." She bit his earlobe. "Oh, screw me, screw me-" she gasped.
His lips mashed against hers, his tongue searching the depths of her throat. His hot hands ran over her soft body.
She began to thresh about, pulling him tight against herself. Her mouth opened wantonly-wider-as she accepted his anxious tongue. She pulled back to catch her breath. "You know," she smiled, "you look like you just stepped out of one of them Marlboro cigarette ads."
He dug his fingers between her thighs, then slid his hand upward. "Hey, lady," he whispered, a grin on his face. "You're nice and warm and wet down there." He pushed her against the bed, pinning her shoulders back on the pillows and slid his knee between her thighs, rising above her. Her breasts shivered with uncontrollable desire as the roaring fire raged, engulfing the two of them. Her supple body writhed beneath him, her hair scattering wildly across the pillow as she shook with mounting passion. He felt her long nails dig deep into his buttocks.
"Man," he groaned, his lips against hers, "you're on fire."
She was like a wild animal, ravenous for the kill. He entered her slowly, then plunged to her very depths as she moaned in a frenzy of painful pleasure.
"Oh, you're so big ... so big." Her whimpering gave way, and she clamped her long legs around him, pinning him in a vise of passion.
He lifted his body, arched and attacked again.
"More!" she screamed. "More, more! I want every inch of you! Oh, hell, hell! You drive me wild-"
The sounds coming from her throat were a savage blend of sobs and screams.
"Steady, baby, steady. Nice and easy," he gasped into her ear. "Yeah, yeah, like that." His powerful hands slid under her hips, down to her buttocks. His strong fingers grasped the softness there, and he lifted her body up to meet his lunging thrusts.
"Now!" she pleaded. "Oh, now! Now!"
"No," he breathed. "Not now. Take it easy."
"I can't stand it. I want it now," she sobbed. "Please, give it to me."
"You really want it?" he asked, pulling himself halfway out of her, yet fighting to prolong his passion as long as he could.
"Yes," she begged. "Oh, Cal, please. Oh hell, Cal ... Cal ... Cal! Don't make me beg-you-sonofabitch!"
"Okay, baby," he whispered. "It's all yours." His body arched, his big chest muscles knotted. He tensed and thrust inward as far as he could make it go. He felt the explosion in him and brought her buttocks closer, his hands roughly digging into the soft flesh. Another thrust and another. Then one long driving plunge, and the overwhelming earthquake racked her body. She screamed in sheer ecstasy, crushed herself up against his thick, muscled body then fell back, limp on the damp sheets, groaning her contentment.
He pulled himself away from her, swung his powerful legs off the bed down to the floor and headed for the bathroom, the thick muscles on his back rippling as he moved. Then he saw the telegram under the door.
He walked over and picked up the envelope.
It was from Charlotte Watts.
He turned to the woman.
"Get dressed," he told her. "I've got to pick up the boss lady at the airport. I'll drive you back into town."
"Hey. Hold on," she said. She got up out of bed and walked over to him. "Ain't you forgetting something? What about a couple of bucks, honey?"
He glared down at her. "I never paid for a piece of ass in my life, baby. I'm not about to start now," he said, slamming the bathroom door behind him.