Chapter 2
Hank, sitting in his car, had finished his third cigarette and very carefully stamped it out on the ground before the door to the Conyer's house opened and Cynthia came out, carrying a small baby in her arms. Behind her a slender young girl, in a freshly starched and ironed calico dress, tugged a worn old valise to the porch and turned to lock the door behind her.
Hank went forward to meet them, and the girl paused and looked up at him, eyes as blue as the sky overhead, her hair a mass of taffy-colored curls that hung about her shoulders. She looked no more than fifteen, and Hank was startled when Cynthia said, "Gladdie-May, this is Mr. Dowler."
"Howdy, Mr. Dowler," said Gladdie-May, grave, polite as a well-brought-up child. "Miss Cynthia told me her car was broke down and how kind you was to ride her out here for me and Buck. I'm right obliged to you, sir."
"It was a pleasure, Mrs.-" Hank began.
"The name's Conyers, Mr. Dowler; only folks call me Gladdie-May. And this here is Buck." The girl indicated the sleeping baby in Cynthia's arms.
Hank smiled warmly at her, took the valise from her hand and held the car door open for her. Gladdie-May hesitated, blue eyes shining as they swept over the car.
"My, I never rode in nothing as fine as this," she said childishly. "All me and Bud's got is the old pickup truck. It does all right, though. We don't have much use for a car 'cept to haul the hides and stuff in town once a week."
She turned anxiously to Cynthia, frowning.
"When do you reckon Bud'll be back home, Miss Cynthia? The traps ought to be emptied and reset, and I don't know how," she confessed.
"Soon, Gladdie-May, I hope," said Cynthia. Above the taffy-colored curls her eyes met Hank's and saw the sympathy in them as he glanced down at the girl. "Perhaps we can find somebody in town who knows about traps and will come out and empty these and reset them."
Gladdie-May nodded and stepped carefully into the car, then held out her arms for the baby.
"You sure I ain't crowding you none, Mr. Dowler?" she asked, as she tried to make her slight body even smaller.
"I'm quite sure, Gladdie-May. You aren't big enough to crowd anybody," Hank assured her pleasantly, with a smile that lifted some of the anxiety from her eyes. "Is it all right if I turn around here?"
"Oh, sure, there's plenty of room," Gladdie-May assured him. As the car turned, she looked back at the neat small house, and there was a dark look in her eyes that spoke of her sorrow at leaving the place.
With Cynthia directing, they came at last to the big old-fashioned Reid home, enclosed in its five acres of grounds, set well back from the road. There were azaleas and camellias, gray with dust, beneath the giant live-oaks that bordered the drive, and the big old house, for all its comfortable shabbiness and its mid-Victorian ugliness, looked very peaceful and dignified.
Cynthia turned to Hank as he stopped the car and said quickly, "You've been wonderfully kind, Mr. Dowler, and I'm most grateful. I can't impose on you any longer, though. I'll have to get Gladdie-May and the baby settled, and I can walk back to the office."
"Nonsense, you'll do no such thing! I'll be happy to wait as long as you like," Hank assured her firmly, and smiled. "Run along, and take your time. It's much too hot for you to walk."
"It's only eight blocks to town," she persisted.
"And the temperature must be at least ninety degrees," Hank insisted firmly. "Run along, and I'll wait."
Cynthia gave him her lovely, brilliant smile, her brown-gold eyes shining warmly.
"You're very kind, and thank you," she told him, and guided the girl across the drive and up the wide, shallow steps that led to the verandah that ran across the front and around two sides of the mellow old house.
Hank was lost in thought about the coming season when Cynthia came hurrying to rejoin him, breathlessly apologetic over keeping him so long, relieved when he convinced her that he hadn't minded the wait at all.
As he helped her into the car, he looked about him before he slid beneath the wheel and backed the car down the drive.
"You've got a nice, quiet place here," he commented as the car turned into the street, headed toward town.
Cynthia glanced at him and smiled. "I take it, judging from the tone of your voice, you don't care for nice, quiet places. Such as Reidsville, for instance."
"Oh, Reidsville's fine, and I can see how such a place would appeal to some people," he answered hastily, and looked down at her. "I admit I'm a little surprised to find a girl like you here. And a lawyer, of all things. How'd that happen?"
"Oh, my father, his father, his grandfather, as far back as we have ever wanted to look, have been lawyers," Cynthia answered casually. "It just never occurred to me to want to be anything else, especially after my brother, who was two years older than I, died in a school bus accident. He was supposed to have been the present-generation lawyer, and when he was killed, I suppose I just took it for granted it was up to me. And I've never regretted it. Law is a fascinating profession, especially if it's in your blood the way it seems to be in mine."
"I'm a little surprised, though, that you were contented to stay in a town the size of Reidsville. Didn't you ever yearn for city life?"
Cynthia laughed. "Heavens, no! My great-grandfather came here when it was just a wilderness. He bought land for fifty dollars an acre and became a timberman. And the town sort of grew up around us. I can't imagine ever wanting anything except to live out my life in Reidsville," she said to him. And then, with a faint trace of defiance, she went on, "But don't think I'm just a backwoods country gal who can't see beyond the nearest hilltop. I've been away from Reidsville to school; then to law school in Atlanta. Why, I've even spent vacations in New York City!"
There was a mocking note in her voice, and Hank looked at her sharply and saw that she was laughing at him. Once more his color deepened beneath the sun-bronze.
"I wasn't being offensive in wondering why you chose to live in Reidsville," he offered in brusque apology.
"Of course not." Cynthia smiled at him. "Anyway, Reidsville is my town, and I'm Reidsville's daughter, and we get along beautifully. Oh, there's a parking place. I'll get out here; my office is just three doors down."
Hank inserted the car neatly into the parking slot just vacated by a lumbering truck and looked down at her.
"It's been quite an experience, meeting you and collecting the girl and her baby," he said impulsively. "I hope I may see you again?"
"Well, of course," Cynthia assured him lightly. "I have to get your contract straightened out as soon as I can talk to some of the committee. If you could drop in to the office tomorrow after lunch-"
"Why don't I drop in before lunch and take you to lunch?" he suggested eagerly.
Cynthia said cheerfully, "Thanks. That would be nice; I'll see you then."
Hank was on the sidewalk now, walking beside her toward the entrance to the stairs leading to her office. As he looked down at her, he asked, "Why couldn't we make that dinner tonight, instead of lunch tomorrow?"
Cynthia smiled up at him demurely. "I won't have time to see any of the committee that soon. I have an appointment at my office now with an old and treasured client."
"Well, couldn't we have dinner and let the contract business go until tomorrow at lunch time?" Hank urged, and added wistfully, "Reidsville's a bit lonely for a stranger."
Before she could answer him, a man emerged from the entrance to the stairs leading to her office and came swiftly toward them, scowling as his eyes sped from Cynthia to Hank.
"Oh, there you are, Cynthia," Clint Kirby said curtly. "I've been waiting for you in your office. Maggie said you wouldn't be gone long."
"Oh, hello, Clint," Cynthia answered quickly. "Mr. Dowler and I went out to pick up Gladdie-May and bring her in."
Clint cut in curtly, "We've met. How are you, Dowler?"
"Fine, Kirby, thanks for asking."
Cynthia looked swiftly from one to the other.
"You've met?" she repeated.
"It was Kirby who felt that the Lucky Devils should pay all the insurance, instead of the customary half," said Hank pleasantly.
Cynthia said quickly, "Clint, you know that's not fair. None of the other performers or concessionaires do."
"None of the others are as potentially dangerous as this troupe of racers," Clint pointed out, and added, "I don't want to discuss it, Cynthia."
"I'm afraid you'll have to, Clint," Cynthia cut in coolly. "Mr. Dowler has retained me as his attorney to fight what we both feel is an unfair ruling."
Clint's eyebrows went up, and there was startled anger in his brown eyes.
"You're kiddin'!" he protested.
"Not at all, Clint," Cynthia said quietly. "Mr. Dowler inquired at the bank about an attorney, and they referred him to me. And since I felt the clause was unjust, I agreed to represent him. I'd like a meeting with the committee in the morning to discuss it. Shall we say ten o'clock at the fair grounds-or in your office? Since you are representing the committee, perhaps you and I alone could get it cleared up."
Ignoring Hank, Clint said eagerly, "Better yet, why don't we drive down to Jacksonville tonight for dinner? We can discuss it, and I can prove to you that the clause is perfectly fair."
Cynthia smiled as she shook her head. "Thanks, Clint, but not tonight," she told him. "Maggie and I have to get Gladdie-May and the baby settled. And I want to talk to Gladdie-May and see if between us we can't come up with some shred of evidence to prove what we both know is true."
"Namely, that Bud is innocent? What a hope!" Clint's tone was acid.
Cynthia stiffened slightly, her eyes chilling.
"But it is a hope, Clint! And an attorney has to follow every possible lead, even if it may not turn into anything worthwhile," she reminded him.
"I suppose so! You always were one to go tilting at windmills when your mind was made up about a client's innocence." Clint relaxed and smiled at her, ignoring Hank, who was looking on with a lack of expression belied by the faint twinkle in his eyes. "Well, then have lunch with me tomorrow."
"I'm afraid not, Clint. I have a date," Cynthia told him sweetly, and looked up at Hank, smiling. "Hank asked me first."
"Oh, I see," Clint growled, and turned away.
"Your office at ten in the morning, Clint?" Cynthia called after him.
"Why not?" Clint flung the words over his shoulder as he strode down the street to where his car was parked.
Hank watched him go and said gently, "I'm afraid he doesn't like me very much."
Cynthia glanced up at him. "Did you expect him to?" she mocked.
"Well, no, if a strange guy in town was trying to make time with my girl-"
"I'm not Clint's girl, and you are a client with whom I have a business appointment," Cynthia reminded him, and there was a definite chill in her eyes to match the one in her tone.
"That should put me properly in my place," Hank said as they reached the foot of the stairs, and she paused to say goodbye to him. "I don't suppose I could persuade you now to have dinner with me tonight?"
"I'm afraid not," Cynthia told him briskly. "You heard what I told Clint, and it's quite true. I'll have lunch with you tomorrow, after I've talked to Clint and the others. And thank you so very much for being so kind this afternoon. I really appreciate it."
"It was a pleasure," Hank began. But she nodded, smiling in dismissal, and went lightly up the stairs and to her office, tired and sleepy.
Cynthia usually didn't take a nap. But this afternoon she felt she needed it. She left word with Maggie not to disturb her until three. That was when she had her next appointment.
She closed the door to her office and stretched out on the sofa. Cynthia could not clear her mind of the image of Hank Dowler.
It was so sudden. It had been a long time since she had felt herself so conscious of a man. What was it about the lean, rugged Dowler that so interested her?
When Clint interrupted them, she had a chance to compare the two men-and in the comparison, Clint came off a distinct second-best.
It wasn't that Hank was more handsome than Clint-if anything, the reverse was true. It was just that Hank was a man, a real man, and Clint was a boy.
She smiled. Clint would die if he knew what she was thinking, he prided himself on being the epitome of masculinity. But Hank had it all over him. There was an easy confidence in Hank's manner, almost infuriating to a woman like Cynthia. Except that Hank carried it off. He gave the impression of not only being confident, but effective as well.
He could back up what he said with action. And nothing was more attractive in a man than the quality of effectiveness.
But Cynthia went back a long time with Clint. There were many shared experiences, many evenings of hot lovemaking.
How could a man that she had just met have such an influence on her? How come she was so ready to compare the man she was going to marry to a veritable stranger?
Cynthia couldn't reason it through.
She tossed and turned on the sofa, slowly drifting off into a light sleep-the perfect consciousness for dreaming. She faded from her office to a bedroom, done in pink and lavender.
At first she found herself looking around, trying to figure out where she was. The decor seemed funny to her-almost a caricature of what a woman's bedroom would be like.
And then she heard someone opening the bedroom door.
She whirled around and saw that Hank Dowler had entered the room. "Hi," he said. "How's it goin'?"
Cynthia didn't know what to say. "What are you doing here?" She managed to blurt out.
He smiled, revealing large even white teeth. "I think that's obvious," he said. "I'm here to make love to you."
She shook her head. "I'm afraid not, Mr. Dowler. I can't imagine what gave you the notion that you could just walk in and ... make love to me."
"Why not? Is it against the law?" He was taking off his clothing.
"Stop that!!" Cynthia shouted. "You can't march in here and disrobe like that!"
He was smiling eagerly. "Why can't I?" he asked. He tugged off his shorts and was stark-naked.
She gasped at the size of his smooth, stony-hard shaft. He held it out, swinging it at her. "Don't you want a taste of my love?"
"Put something on!" she cried at him.
He was walking towards her. She seemed to be frozen where she stood, unable to move away. Not that she really wanted to.
In fact, she felt a chilly trembling go through her body that also made her nipples pucker and her little clit start to itch and hanker for stimulation.
That was what interested her. She was crying out all the right things, but she didn't feel them. She felt her body flush as he took off his clothes, not with disgust, but excitement. She wanted him to walk up and take her in his arms. She wanted to feel his throbbing prick hard against her flesh.
That was when she noticed that she had no clothing on.
She felt his warm slab of flesh push against her. Her breasts mashed against his chest and his hands came around and cupped her buttocks, squeezing them and filling the round globes with pleasure.
"You want my cock, don't you?" he asked her sexily. "But are you ready for it?"
"I ... don't know." She couldn't bring herself to admit it while her whole wet slit pulsed at the thought of his pecker ramming into her womb. But she couldn't let him know how much he desired her.
But Hank didn't heed her answer. His mouth closed over hers and his tongue snaked in, entwining and playing with hers.
He felt her nipples, hard and firm now, pushing anxiously against his chest. His cock pushed at her thighs, hard and hot.
She felt weak, and rolled down into his strong arms. But he let her drape and sort of drop quietly to the floor. He followed her body downward and started to nuzzle her willing nipples. She rubbed her body back and forth, trying to break the sucking grip of his mouth from her stimulated tit. It did no good.
"Please stop!" she whined as he nibbled away. "Don't!! No!!! Not that ... Please!!!"
But of course he knew she meant the opposite. He wet her whole chest with his mouth, pulling in mounds of fruited flesh, grinding with heaving suction at her pert and prickly nipples, slurping about the roundness until she was breathing short and feverishly.
"NO! NO! NO!" she cried out in little spasms. "Stop!! Please!!" she squeaked halfheartedly.
"Why don't you just admit that you want me to fuck you?" he said to her.
"OH PLEASE!" she trilled as he kissed his way to her pubic patch. "NOT THERE!!"
"No, baby," he responded as he wet the forest, plowing through to her damp and soft pussy underneath. "You should be saying yes ... I'm going to chew you until you say YES!!!"
His hot little shout made her pussy twitch. His mouth slipped in and over the folds. He sucked the fleshiness up around his lips and teeth, chewing and savoring it.
"MY GOD!" she yelled. "PLEASE DON'T!"
"Yessss!!" he hissed back, spitting into her slit. The wet droplets stung her.
"OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH," she yelled out as his tongue slid deep into her steamy center. "YES!!! YES!!! YEEEEESSSSSS!!!!"
Her pussy began to swarm and sweat around his tongue, stimulated by his chewing into erotic contractions and convulsions. Cynthia was a woman with a restless body-a body that had its own rhythm and waves to follow.
Her hips circled around his tongue, helping him slip around and down to nudge at the most forbidden and lusting places.
She crawled around under his thighs. The big meat she had eyed before was now right in front of her face. She studied its thick roundness with her mouth, trying to cover the huge shaft sideways but not succeeding. She ran her face and lips down the length like that enjoying the bulges, ridges and tense skin that barely encased his bulging, blood-rushed love muscle.
Then for a second she turned her head away. She couldn't. She felt guilty, yet hot too, and was torn apart.
Hank was doing an admirable tongue job of stimulating her cunt. The way he pounced on her budding clit proved it. He surrounded the flesh-guarded little nub and sucked the whole area into his mouth in a fast swoop. His tongue dug under the folded hood and stabbed at the small button.
"OOOOOHHHHHH NOOOOOOOO!!!" she moaned. "YES!!! YES!!! YES!!!! OOOOOOOH-HHHHH NOOOOOOOO!!!!!"
If she couldn't make up her mind, at least Hank was making his case for passion. The spinning in her head brought her eyes back around to his tool. She was hungry.
She encased the pecker-head and licked it. She felt an immediate bulge.
She inched down a little further, all the while swirling him eagerly.
She felt him groan against her bush. "Mmmmmmmmmmm!!!"
She sucked at the few inches of cock as if she wanted to shed the skin and devour it.
She inched her way down like that, swaddling the long thick pecker with her mouth after each advance until the thing was quivering inside her hot breathy face. She let it nudge and graze at the back of her throat. It made her feel wanton.
She locked her lips to the flesh and pulled up. She could feel the pecker shift and bulge as she pulled at it sensuously.
She slipped her face back down with a wet plunge. The cock felt wonderful in her mouth-throbbing with power.
Meanwhile Hank had slithered open her clit so that his tongue hit bullseye on her love bundle with every little lick. He had his eyes wide open and his hands holding back the pink puckered hood so he could fire her into oblivion.
As she was hit with her first orgasm she gobbled at Hank's dick, slithering it into her throat and pursing her face with fervid sucking to try to milk him dry.
She ate at him madly, puckering up and snapping her face about on Hank's numb shaft that he couldn't control himself. He came in a hot gob that was more like a wave-a sheet. It hit her in the face as she pulled off him on a downstroke. She just lay there and grabbed his cock and beat off his sticky semen onto her whole face.
Cynthia couldn't believe herself. Her pretty cheeks were damp and hot with sticky white fluid. She licked it off herself like a cat, brushing the gunk onto her hands and then licking it off there. She cleaned around her lips with swirling licks. Hank pushed aside her dripping pussy and watched the girl clean herself of his fluids.
They lay there in a broken sixty-nine, side by side, looking each other over. She felt her body again quake with fear. What was she doing here, naked, cleaning herself of his jizm? She felt depraved.
That didn't stop her from noticing his cock, still hard and as energetic as before. She was amazed at how it stood there unflaggingly after she had sucked so much juice from it. It was quite a tool he had.
He sat up Indian-style and crossed his legs. His pecker waved like a flagpole. He put his hands at the base and offered it to her.
"This...." he said, "can make you very happy."
She rolled over and opened her slit with her hands. She rubbed away the protective folds and flashed her pink wetness.
He crawled over and began rubbing his thing up and down the length of her labia. He didn't penetrate her-only hinted. It only made it worse for her.
"OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHH NOOOOOOOO!!!" she moaned, feeling tingling passion engulf her again.
What was going on? How did she get there-what was she doing?
She tried to push him away, but her efforts were halfhearted and she knew it. His prick was causing her no end of stimulation, and finally Cynthia sighed and relaxed, in his powerful arms.
"That's more like it," Hank said.
He led her to the bed and she reclined, her legs open, her center moist and hot. Now Cynthia wanted it badly. All she had to do was make up her mind.
He stood by the bed, massaging himself, getting it big and hard for her. She licked her dry lips, eager now to get it on.
Then he was atop her, his weight uncomfortable at first. Then-as he eased his prick into her hot cunt-she began to glow with excitement and pleasure.
Suddenly she was no longer conscious of his weight-all she could think about was his burning poker, stretching her, filling her with pleasure.
He moved slowly but the pleasure was overwhelming. Cynthia had never felt anything so good in her life. She began to moan as he rocked gently between her legs, and when she wrapped her legs around his muscular back she felt the jets of his orgasm and the sweet wetness brought her own orgasm on, fierce and hot.
He banged her mushy softness once again in that feverish dream, and this time she begged him.
The fat, thick, gobbing hot load of come had only made her fires more furious, her cunt more tingly and hungry.
She hopped over onto all-fours and jabbed her ass into the air. Then Cynthia growled like a tiger.
"Okay!" she prodded him. "Put that pecker back inside me and fuck me again. This time I want it even better than the last!!!"
Hank of course had felt his cock now finally sag a bit, but the way she twisted her quivering quim skyward prodded his erection to return. The folds of her flower tumbled apart as she jabbed her ass backwards. Inside the pink flesh seemed to yawn open as if to invite him.
"Come on," she said to him. "Take me like an animal!!!"
Hank acted like one, attacking her crotch like his last meal. He brought his hands up into her thighs and cradled the sweet, fertile crescent. Then his mouth dug into her hot chasm like chewing at a fat leg of mutton.
She could swear that he truly was eating her from the sensations she felt. His lips seemed to sink so deeply into her lips that they tore apart. When his tongue slashed at her pinkness, it seemed to scoop up feathering flesh in huge divots. Her pussy was being ravaged, decimated sexually.
"OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!!!!" she cooed, rubbing her ass at Hank's busy face. He responded by tearing open her center and shoving his face and tongue into her deepest parts.
Then he withdrew and quickly returned with his bulging bat at the doors to her quim. The lips that had let him in before quivered in fear. They were so stimulated that when he brushed them Cynthia jumped away. She knew that her womb was so alive, so burning with passion that as soon as he was inside she would be out of control.
At the first jab she felt her head spin. She flung it up while her ass jabbed down, only tugging in more cock to the tight and ticklish tunnel. It sent her over the top.
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" she cried, starting to slash her ass up and down on his healthy, hearty sausage. She wanted the big thing to cleave her folds and stab her into submission. She slammed it into her, taking it deep and full and wetting it in her swirling hot fountain.
"FUCK ME!!!!" she yelled. "GIVE IT TO ME!!!"
Hank grabbed her hips and started pumping at a cross rhythm to her. The process made her bottom explode, and her insides caved and cavorted around the powerful thick thruster.
Her cunt walls shuddered as his load seared against them. His cock snapped as it shot, throbbing her bottom with a wild tug.
Cynthia was melted in passion. It was only a dream, but it felt so real and good.