Chapter 12
Liz, lost in that twilight world between sleep and awakening, dreamed she was wandering through a dense forest. A summer shower had just ended; everything was wet. She ducked between rain-laden branches as twigs bent beneath her bare feet in the soggy earth. She felt peaceful and free-her heart liberated from the burden of some heavy load. The last drops were falling from the trees. All around her the woods was coming back to life after the soaking storm.
She opened her eyes and bright daylight filled her head. She blinked at the glare of the morning sun as it poured in through the open bay windows. She must be in her mother's room. An unfamiliar touch brought her to full consciousness. Her mother was sitting on the edge of the bed in a silk nightgown, leaning over, skirting her lips lightly over Liz's lower abdomen. The daughter yawned and stretched her arms high over her head. June sat up and smiled at her, her freshly applied lipstick smeared all over her cheeks and chin from contact with the warm pubis of the young girl.
"MMmmm," June murmured, "if I'd known you tasted this good all these years I would have started doing this long ago."
Liz echoed her smile. "You mean you've been with women before, Mother?"
June winked slyly. Then: "Of course, that was before I met your father."
"Of course," Liz said.
They both giggled like schoolgirls sharing a secret.
"Then you weren't a virgin when you married Dad?"
June put on a mask of astonishment. "Certainly I was a virgin-with men." A pause. "But you must remember I went to boarding schools dll I was your age. No coeducation for my father and mother. For twelve years it was girls, girls, girls."
"Sounds wonderful," Liz said.
"Well, I never suffered from lack of friends, but when I met your father, and he showed me what sex with a man could be like, I just lost interest in the other thing. That is, until now."
Liz reached up and loosened the shoulder straps of her mother's nightgown. The soft cloud of silk fell to the top of her bosom and stayed there, sustained by the swelling of her separate breasts, like a cloak of cloud wrapped around the shoulders of twin mountain peaks. June hefted the heavy hills in her hands and smiled proudly into her daughter's approving eyes.
"No, no. Stop. We can't. We had better behave ourselves. Bobby and Barbara will be up any minute."
"So?" Liz said.
Her mother shook her head. "I don't want them to find out about this. Promise me you won't tell them."
Liz considered arguing the point, but thought better of it. This sounds like the conversation I had with Dad the day all our problems began, she thought; these two really ought to get together. Then she was hit by her best idea yet. Why not? Why shouldn't they get together-really?
She broke into a wide grin as she suddenly comprehended the enigmatic cause of all the events of her first week home from college. She understood why she had not even considered spending her vacation somewhere else; she must have known, unconsciously, that it was her obligation to bring into being what was meant to occur: the reconciliation of her parents. Her heart overflowed with happiness at the reaUzation that it was her destiny to set right the tranquillity she had helped to destroy. She was a woman in league with the gods.
She jumped out of bed and kissed her mother in the grip of emotions that nearly strangled her words in her throat.
"I promise. Oh, I promise!"
June, startled by this outburst, said, "Where are you going?"
"To New York!"
"New York, what for?" June asked.
Thinking quickly, Liz answered, "I simply have to buy a new dress to celebrate my welcome home. Why don't you come with me?"
But June had other ideas. "No, I think not, but why don't you take Barbara with you. You could both get something nice."
"Good idea!"
Liz hurried to her room to rouse her sleeping sister. "Get up," she said, "we're going shopping."
"Shopping, what for?" the yawning redhead asked.
"Never mind. Just get dressed. We're going to have ourselves the best Saturday night ever!"
On the Expressway, racing along at seventy miles an hour, fifteen yards behind the car in front of them, Liz explained: "It all reasons out, Barbara, You and Bobby and Mother all involved with the Aldriches-all progressing unknowingly towards the inevitable conclusion-moth- er's acknowledgement of her own sexuality. Inevitable, that is, once I came into the picture and upset the neady arranged, socially acceptable distinctions of age and gender."
Barbara was shaking her head.
"Don't you understand?" Liz went on. "We must have known it all the time, in the back of our minds. That's what caused me to seduce Bobby and you, and then Holly and Carl and finally Mother. And that's what caused you all to go along with it."
"It wasn't just sex?" the redhead asked.
"Sex is just the way it manifested itself," Liz said emphatically. "The agent it employed was to achieve its aims, like a pornographic story that is about more than just sex."
Barbara began to comprehend. "And," Liz continued, "the truly startling thing is that none of this could have been brought to its desired end without a confrontation between Mother and Dad, an event we will bring about only because we realize it must take place in order for the grand design to be fulfilled. Do you recognize the significance of that?"
Her sister was about to respond when Liz spotted a hitchhiker on the side of the crowded highway, thumbing desperately. The brunette eased the car over into the right lane and then off onto the shoulder, bringing the big Chevy to a stop about thirty yards past the running girl.
Liz blew the horn and waited for her to catch up. Barbara looked at her sister, her expression registering the effort she was making to keep pace with Liz's reasoning, and said, "But Liz, what about Billy Aldrich? He doesn't have anything to do with anything."
Her sister was too busy watching the traffic zoom by to respond. The hitchhiker jumped into the back seat and they sped off.
"Say, thanks a lot. I didn't think anybody was going to stop on this goddamned road. I've been standing there over an hour at least." Her breathlessness didn't seem to affect her ability to talk.
Barbara sat sideways in the front seat and looked at the girl. She was her age, probably a year younger. She had a very pretty face, her upturned nose and large eyes making her resemble Holly somewhat. Her curly, light-brown hair was teased into an Afro style, framing her face and creating the illusion of a halo encircling her angelic countenance.
"Why in the world were you hitching on the Long Island Expressway?" Barbara asked.
"I didn't start hitching there. I started back about twenty miles in Babylon. This guy picked me up right away, an old guy, about fifty, and half the way into the city everything's cool. Then, all of a sudden, he puts his hand in my lap and says how about it, will I spend the day with him in his hotel. He offered me twenty bucks."
"What did you say?" Liz asked.
"I told him it would cost him a hundred," the girl laughed.
"My kind of girl," Liz said.
"What did he say?" Barbara said.
The girl laughed again. "He said I obviously didn't know anything about hooking. That my price was way out of line. His ego was so hurt he didn't even realize I was only bullshitting him. I didn't care about the money. If he was cool I would have balled him, but he was just a creep."
Barbara was intrigued. "What would you have done if he had paid you the hundred dollars?"
"I would have done it," the girl said immediately. "If there's one thing I don't have it's morals. I can't be bothered with petty, middle class values."
Liz interrupted. "Don't you place any value on your own body?"
The girl was quiet for a minute. "What the hell kind of question is that?" "Just asking," said Liz.
The girl was insulted. "Well, I place a lot of value on my body. And you know why? Because every guy I ever balled has said that I'm the best piece of ass he ever had. Every time I turn around there's another guy who wants to make it with me. And you know why? Because I let them do whatever they like. I let them fuck me, suck me, beat me and eat me. I let them dress me up or strip me down anytime they like. I've been come on, pissed on, shit on and even barfed on by the drunk ones. And they always come back for more, because they're turned on that a chick as young and sweet-looking as me can be as raunchy as I can be."
Liz caught her eye in the rear-view mirror.
"I'm shocked," she said sarcastically.
The newcomer suddenly laughed aloud. "Okay," she said, "so it didn't work this time, but usually that speech shoots people down so fast they just shut their mouths and leave me alone."
Barbara shook her head as if to clear it. "Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?"
Her sister smiled. "Baby, it's just when one sex-143 ually-liberated person meets another, they can usually tell right away."
"Are you two sisters?" the girl said. "Wow, that's nice." She said to Liz, "It must be terrific having a nice piece of pussy around the house to suck on."
Liz nodded. "It is."
Barbara blushed. She was beginning to enjoy the conversation. "It's also nice to have an understanding sister to drive the car while you play around with someone in the back seat."
The girl opened her arms in welcome and Barbara climbed over the seat to join her. Within seconds they had stripped off their clothes and were rolling around in ecstasy. Liz tried to keep her eye on the road, but it wasn't easy. She tilted the rear-view mirror to reflect not the traffic behind but the image of her sister sixty-nining with the strange girl. The brown-haired girl was on the top, and Liz could see her entire body from the rear. She was a naturally thin girl, but her back and bottom were even farther emaciated. Drugs, probably. Nowadays, what else? It was the same old story and it made Liz sick. Sure, she smoked grass, but marijuana was like candy compared to the real drugs. And even as far as grass was concerned, Liz would rather suck on a new man than a new joint. Reality, to this not unintelligent nineteen-year-old, was sex. If you liked sex you liked reality, and if you liked reality you didn't have to escape from it.
It's all very logical, she mused.
She glanced into the mirror again. Now Barbara was on top. Liz felt the warmth of kinship spread through her when she recognized the round cheeks of Barbara's moonlike ass. It stood out against her tanned legs and back like a full, white moon in the dim evening sky.
She felt the warm tingling sensations of arousal, too. Her hand opened the fly of her slacks and lost itself amid the humid hairs of her cunt-swamp. She stabbed rapidly into the mud-thick mess of flesh.
The rhythm of the road going by beneath the car reverberated through her; the hot blood running in her veins echoed the rising tide of orgasm. With one hand on the wheel and the other on her clit, she tried to watch the lesbian lewdness in the back seat while keeping the vehicle going without billing them all.
Barbara and the unknown girl were free from any knowledge of danger. Their fingers and tongues explored an undiscovered world where skin was ground and everything smelled of cunt. The brown-haired girl had succeeded in stimulating the redhead by tonguing her clitoris and thrusting her nose up her ass. Barbara tried not to come-the contrast between the girl's angel looks and slut manners excited her, and she wanted their cunnilingus to last as long as possible.
She was to be frustrated in that desire at the moment she was gratified by the more physical one. After five minutes of crushing her face up into Barbara's wide-open crotch, the young stranger sucked down a whole quart of viscous fluid. Barbara went into a long, shuddering orgasm and tried to sink her whole head into her girl-partner's love-cave. She drilled her tongue deep into the young woman's well until she struck oil, and a gusher of ejaculate filled her mouth.
Coming onto a straight stretch of highway, Liz held the steering wheel between her knees and poked both hands into her exposed lap. The sounds of the two playmates reaching orgasm, slurping and sighing in their ecstasy, filled her ears with the music she liked to hear, and after a long, hazardous moment when she almost lost control of the car, righted it and put both hands back in her cunt. A shivering spasm sent sympathetic girl-sperm all over her cupped palms.
Liz came to her senses and got control of the car once more. She wiped her forehead in a gesture of concern and said, "Whew! That was a close one. You two better behave yourselves or you'll get me so excited I'll get us all killed."
The two girls in the back seat sat up, their arms around each other, their faces dazed.
"Oh," Barbara said, "I forgot we were in the car."
"Me too," said the brown-haired girl. "It's been a long time since I made it in the back seat of a car."
They all laughed at the allusion to common experience.
"You two get your clothes on and come up here with me," Liz said. "I'm getting lonely all by myself."
They did. Soon all three girls were in the front seat, Liz driving, Barbara on the passenger side, the new girl in the middle where they could both reach her, each one's hands on her neighbor's thigh.
They rode that way into the city. Liz and Barbara told their story to the girl, whose name was Manda, and she listened, enraptured by the tale.
"That's quite a story," she said when they had finished, "but I have one question."
"Shoot," Liz said.
"Well, in this supposed predetermined scheme of things, where do I come in?"
Liz was amused. "Your existence in this automobile is the simple consequence of human will."
"Oh, thanks a lot," Manda feigned insult.
"Look at it this way," Liz went on. "If I had not discovered the hidden intention of our actions, my sister and I would have stayed home today, you would have waited longer for a ride, and none of us would have had the nice orgasms we just enjoyed."
Manda was nodding as she spoke. Barbara was busy flirting with two boys in the next car.
"Shall we try them?" Liz asked.
Her sister shook her head. "I can't wait to see Daddy."
Liz agreed. "Not too disappointed, are you Manda?"
The girl shook her head. "I've got to get down to the West Village as soon as possible. There's a photographer there who wants to shoot me in the nude."
"I'd love to see that," Liz said.
Manda moved her hand up into the brunette's lap and squeezed her through her slacks. "I'll send you some pictures."
"Remember, that's a promise."
After giving Manda their address and phone number, Liz and Barbara dropped her off and headed uptown to their father's West Side apartment.
It had been quite a night for Martin Reynolds. His job as a corporate lawyer for a New York brokerage firm kept him busy; during the past two weeks alone he had been sent to California three times. Just yesterday he was informed, on arriving at the office, that he had to catch the 10:30 a.m. flight to Atlanta in order to clarify the legal aspects of a new investment package to a prospective client. He performed his responsibilities in that city and caught the first flight back-there were places he would rather be in June than the South, like in his own air-conditioned apartment overlooking the Hudson, with a tall, cool drink in one hand and a tall, cool woman in the other.
In the nine months since his wife threw him out, Martin had met and made a large variety of urban females: secretaries, models, widowed clients, ladies of leisure-in fact, during the winter of his exile, after the initial feelings of loss and loneliness were replaced by the determination to survive emotionally, he found that the city afforded an inexhaustable assortment of sensual experiences.
Denise was one of these. He met her on his return flight to La Guardia. He knew he wanted her the first time he saw her, saw her moving away from him up the narrow aisle of the 727, her mobile hips and perky ass confined in the tight-fitting miniskirt of her blue stewardess uniform. At the head of the cabin she turned and spoke to one of the seated passengers, and Martin got a good look at her face. She was a classic beauty. Her natural blonde hair was pulled back to heighten the impact of her striking features; her perfectly applied make-up added just the right touch of color to her flawless complexion; her eyes expressed simultaneously the warmth of sensuousness and a cool aloofness.
Martin was amazed that he picked her up so easily.
They went to the airport bar and then to his apartment. She cooked them dinner and told him the story of her life. He fed her daiquiris and took her to bed. In the morning they showered together, then she left, promising to call the next time she was in town. He knew he'd never see her again.
He considered driving up to Connecticut to play golf with friends. As he picked up the phone the doorbell rang.
"Well, hello, hello. Come in, come in," he said, embracing his daughters.
"Hello Daddy! I'm so glad to see you," Barbara said, hugging him.
Liz put both hands against his chest and kissed him on the mouth. "Hello Father," she said coolly, "long time no talk to."
Her father was cut by the remark. He looked at her sheepishly. He knew to what she was referring. After he had moved into the city she had called him a few times from college and asked if she could visit him. Not wishing to worsen an already bad situation he'd refused, each time using the pressures of business as a flimsy excuse. He knew he'd been right in doing what he'd done, but he could well understand that Liz needed him and would not be able to comprehend his actions. He felt bad for that.
Barbara bombed around the apartment, investigating every corner of the place while Liz opened the curtains and looked out on the river view.
"Very impressive," she said, "but it must get lonely here."
Martin smiled at his elder daughter. "I have company occasionally," he said.
Barbara came back into the living room. "I'll bet you do. I'll bet you make out like mad in a place like this."
He brought lemonade from the kitchen and poured them each a tall glass. "Now girls, let's leave the old man alone, shall we? We haven't seen each other in months, I'm sure there are more important things to talk about."
"What's more important than sex?" Barbara said. "I said let's drop it!" her father said sternly. The redhead's face fell about a foot and a half. "I'm sorry kitten, I guess I'm just a little touchy this morning." Out of the corner of his eye he could see Liz watching him, silently.
"Okay, Daddy, I guess this must be quite a surprise for you. Maybe we should have called first. I hope we didn't spoil your golf day, or anything."
"Don't be silly," he said, smiling again. "There isn't anything I'd rather do than talk to you two."
Except one thing, thought Liz.
"How's school?" he asked.
"Oh, great! It's all over for the year," Barbara replied.
"How did you do?"
"Well, pretty good. Not as good as Liz-she was on the Dean's List all year-but better than last year."
Martin winked at Barbara. "That a girl. Keep up the good work." He turned to his elder daughter. "And you, who said you're supposed to be so smart?"
Liz decided to play the game for a while. She smiled. "Well, everyone always said I got my looks from Mother and my brains from you."
Martin flushed momentarily with pride. Then: "How is your mother?"
Liz's smile was authentic now. "Oh, she's just fine," she said mysteriously. Barbara, knowing what had oc- curred the night before between Liz and her mother, blushed.
"What do you mean by that?" Martin asked, nonplussed by this unexpected response.
Barbara, as previously instructed by her sister, kept silent. Liz explained: "Nothing at all, in fact she's been so busy lately she went up to Newport this weekend to visit Grandma and have a little peace and quiet."
"You mean she left you kids alone?"
Liz smiled. "You know, Dad, we are capable of taking care of ourselves."
"What do you mean she's been busy lately, doing what?" Martin's daughters had him in a real quandary.
"Well, working, of course. And socializing."
"Socializing?"
"Going out with men," she said finally. She congratulated herself on delivering the blow so expertly. "Well, you don't expect the poor woman to throw her love life out the window at the age of forty, do you?"
Martin now realized that in the nine months he had been separated from his wife he had never once considered what her life might have become. Now he saw it; what had happened to him could just as easily have happened to her-she, too, might be involved in cheap, easy affairs with total strangers. He envisioned the things that other men might be doing with her; it filled him with disgust. This reaction surprised him, too. He thought: I really must love her.
At that moment he realized how much he despised a life of temporary intimacy.
"Anyway," Liz continued, "that brings us to the reason your number two daughter and I are here. Now that Mother is away and the coast is clear, we thought you might like to come out and stay at the house this weekend. It would be a terrific thrill for Bobby."
"When will your mother be home?" Mardn asked.
"Sunday night, late," Liz lied.
Martin thought: I'll spend some time with the kids, and then I'll see June when she gets back. If she throws me out again I'll just come back here. It's worth a try.
"All right," he said, standing suddenly and slapping his hands on his thighs. "I'll throw some things in a bag and be right with you. Then I'm taking the two of you to lunch in the best restaurant in New York!"
Barbara clapped her hands with joy. Liz smiled triumphantly.
In the bedroom Martin packed his overnight case quickly, haphazardly. He threw on his sport coat. As he took his wallet from the dresser, a white card fell out of it. He looked at it. It read: Denise Bennett. 400 East 75th St. New York. 789-6969. There was a postscript: Call me, anytime.
He thought about the night he had had. He thought about all the nights of the past nine months. He thought about June. He tore the card in two, threw it in the wastebasket, and walked out of the room.