Chapter 1
Joy Lansing moaned. The touch of Clay Trent's hands was enough to bring a throbbing fire coursing through her veins.
They were at the cabin for the first time in a month. Clay hadn't been able to get away from college because of exams. But that didn't matter, now. "Miss me?" he murmured, his mouth brushing her throat.
"Sometimes, I hate that old college of yours." Joy pressed her supple body against him. She couldn't quiet her impatience. Her nerves were tight strings.
"Tell me you love me," she insisted.
"You know it, Honey." The words came easy, but there was a frown on Clay Trent's face, one she didn't see in the shadows from the glowing fire.
Clay Trent liked what she had to offer, her luscious willing body, but beyond that ... nothing really fit. Joy Lansing was hardly the type a man married, at least not the son of the town's leading doctor.
Joy was from the wrong part of town, Willow Street. Then, too, there was her mother, Barbara Lansing, who didn't turn men from her bed if they had a few dollars to spend.
For Clay, it had started out as a simple conquest. He had seen Joy, one afternoon, at the drugstore and decided she was worth having. Auburn-haired, gray-eyed, with a figure that would stop a clock, she was really something.
Surprisingly, it had taken Clay several dates, mostly drives around the countryside before he talked her into coming up to Ins father's cabin.
Clay normally lost interest in a girl after a few sessions. There were a dozen coeds at college who could attest to that. Joy Lansing though, became a compulsion. Breaking off relations with her wasn't that easy. It seemed that every time' he made up his mind to tell her, he couldn't. And he felt a little guilty. I wasn't hard to tell her he loved her and take what he wanted. She believed him. So there was still a year of college. No one knew about the trips up here to the cabin.
Joy's parting lips, the probe of her tongue. forced Clay's thoughts aside. Easing away her blouse from her shoulders, he unsnapped her bra. His eyes glowed with appreciation as her full breasts burst free. The light of the fire danced on her tawny flesh, tanned below the creamy breasts. He felt her tremble as his hands cupped the cones, bringing instant response. One thing about Joy, she was always willing after that first time. She had an insatiable hunger for love.
Clay found a. nipple with his mouth and caressed it into a rigid bud. He felt her hands twine in his hair, urging him on. She was sobbing softly, mewing like a kitten.
Finding the zipper of her skirt, he eased it down. In the quiet, it had the sound of coarse cloth being torn. She arched to let him slip it free from her thighs.
Clay paused to let his eyes feast again on her slender loveliness. Unlike so many naked women, Joy gained rather than lost in beauty, when she was naked.
Joy felt the blood rush to her cheeks. "You make me feel so self-conscious when you look at me like that," she cried. It was silly, and she knew it. He had seen her naked many times.
A grin played across his mouth. "I enjoy looking at you, Honey," he said. Then, he hooked his fingers in her panties and drew them down over her thighs.
She started trembling more violently as his hands caressed her thighs, moving up the inside, pausing and moving, pausing and moving.
"Please, Clay, please," she sobbed. "It's been so long."
"Too long." He started to undress, his eyes never leaving her.
Joy watched him. An anger dug at her insides. There were times when she thought she couldn't control this anger, this hating, almost of herself. It was always the same. She had no control of her emotions at his touch, at the sight of his masculinity. Her body was on fire.
The moment he came to her, her nails raked his back, trying to hurry him. She knew she couldn't. Clay was a deliberate lover, insistent on preliminaries.
Her sobs grew into cries of anguish as he tasted the succulence of her breasts, his lips moving, always moving.
Joy felt herself being carried higher and higher, reaching for the crest. Time stood still. Rockets exploded in a myriad of colors. His gentleness gave way to violence as he took her. For one tenuous, exquisite moment, she fought the burning tide that engulfed her, then surrendered completely, gloriously.
Sweat oiled their bodies. Arching, her body a storm of motion, she built the tempo ever higher.
"No, no, not yet," she cried as she felt him shudder. Her nails raked his back, leaving a ribbon of blood as she fought on to find her own satisfaction. It came. Then like an abating storm, they sank back into a lassitude of contentment.
"You're wonderful," Clay muttered. He leaned away and looked at her, at her breasts still swollen with passion.
He was thinking that when the time came to end it, it wasn't going to be easy. Joy was everything a man could want. Compared to her, all the other girls he had taken to bed were imitations. Still the day of reckoning would have to come. But, Hell, not now. There was still a year of college left.
Kissing a breast, he felt renewed response. This time, he let her make love to him, flagellate him into submission with her wild attack. There was pleasure in fighting, struggling against her whip-lashing assault.
When it ended, he had to fight to gain his breath. She was laughing, her breasts rising and falling with the exertion.
"Just what I thought."
The voice came from the doorway. A cold breeze caught at her and she saw Dr. Trent in the open doorway.
He slammed the door shut and strode across the room to them. Joy caught up her skirt and tried to hide her nakedness. It was a miserable failure.
"Get your clothes on and get the Hell out of here," Roger Trent roared at his son. "'I'll settle with you later."
Joy stifled the scream rising in her throat. She cast a glance at Clay. His face was ashen.
"Dad, I ... " He started.
"No need for explanations. I've got eyes. And I'm not paying for your damned education to have you wreck it with some tramp. Now, get dressed." Trent's look silenced his son. Hovering over Clay, the elder Trent seemed to dwarf him.
Joy watched helplessly as Clay started to dress. She wanted to move, but her limbs were numb, refusing to obey her command. Clay wasn't even looking at her.
It was all like a bad dream. But then, the cold blast of air from the door opening and closing, brought some reality. Clay Trent was leaving her.
"How much has he been paying you?"
Joy was stunned. Dr. Trent was talking to her. "What?" she gasped.
"You heard me. You are Barbara Lansing's daughter. I dare say you have a price. How much?"
Joy stared him. From the outside came the sound of Clay's convertible. The motor roared and then started to fade. Fear died. Anger came.
"I I'm not that kind. Clay and I are in love," she cried.
Roger Trent laughed harshly. "Don't label it, girl. Love isn't going to bed. Get dressed. I'll drive you back to town." Then he turned his back on her and started putting out the fire Joy watched him, staring at the broad back Then she dressed. Slipping into her clothes she tried to make herself believe this was all some kind of nightmare, one she would wake up from soon. It wasn't. Suddenly, she was seeing it as it was all too clearly. The meetings with Clay on street corners, the sneaking up here. She had fallen so blindly in love with Clay, she hadn't seen the real truth.
Beaching for her coat, she said resignedly, Tin ready."
He turned and studied her for a moment. There was a deep frown on his face.
"I won't have anything or anyone standing in the way of my son, girl. Clay is going to be a doctor and a good one. There's no room for your kind."
Joy forced a tremulous laugh. "You think you're some kind of God? You think you can run Clay's life and mine?"
I haven't the slightest interest in yours." He eyed her. "Frankly, I don't blame my son. I dare say you're probably damned good in bed. The point is, Havenhurst is a small town. People talk. Doctors can't afford that. I'm just glad I got suspicious and decided to come up here. I saw him pick you up early this evening. If it had been someone else ... " He shrugged. "It doesn't take much to get people talking."
"And that's all, you think it doesn't mean anything else?" Joy cried.
"We both know it doesn't." He paused and gave her a look. "It's obvious. You're Barbara Lansing's daughter. I'm not going to stand here and argue with you. Now, suppose we head back to town."
Joy wanted to retort, then decided against it. His mind was set. There was no room for argument.
He held the door for her. A moment later, they reached his car. Joy paused before getting in and looked back at the cabin. Now, it had a dark and foreboding look, a far cry from the lovely place where she had shared stolen moments with Clay.
As they drove back toward town, Joy stared moodily at the road. What a fool I've been, she mused to herself. If Clay loved me, he wouldn't have walked out the way he did, like a scared puppy with his tail between his legs.
They were almost to town when Dr. Trent spoke for the first time since leaving the cabin "I don't hold any personal grudge against you. I know you're not the only girl my son has ever taken to bed. Medical school is a tough grind. A student has to blow off some of the energy. I did my share in college."
Joy held silent, casting a furtive glance at him. It was easy to see where Clay got his good looks. Dr. Trent was gray and close to fifty, but he was still a handsome man. And perhaps he was right. At the moment, Joy was in no mood to argue. Remorse and anger intermingled in her thoughts.
Roger Trent pulled to the curb. "I'll let you out here. It's only a couple blocks to Willow Street," he said.
Joy felt a crazy urge to laugh. The respectable doctor couldn't afford to be seen letting Barbara Lansing's daughter out of his car in a conspicuous place.
He caught her arm as she started to get out. "Just a moment," he said.
Joy watched him take his billfold from in inner pocket and extract some bills. Suddenly, she realized what he was up to. "I don't want your money," she cried. "I I'm not what you think."
This money is to see that you stay away from Clay. Take it," he ordered.
"You ... you really think you can buy me?"
"I'm not trying to buy you, girl. I'm being practical. I could have you and your mother run out of town. I think you know that. Now take the money." He forced it into her hands.
Joy hesitated, then took it. He's bribing me. It makes him as cheap as he thinks I am, she told herself.
Tears scalded her eyes as she watched the car drive away. The night air was cold, a breeze blowing in her face as she started up the street toward home.
Joy felt nothing. As she walked, her fingers closed from time to time on the bills in her pocket. It kept reminding her that she had been paid for services rendered. At a street light, she paused and took the money out. She gasped. There was five one-hundred dollar bills. It was obvious. Roger Trent had known what he would find, had come prepared.
A bitter laugh caught in Joy's throat. The money meant Dr. Trent regarded her as her mother's daughter. Was it true?
It was after midnight when she opened the door and let herself in. She felt a crying urge to talk to her mother. It died in birth. How many years had it been since she had shared a mother-daughter relationship?
Moving through the kitchen toward her bedroom, Joy paused at the sound of voices corning from her mother's room. The huskier tone of a man's voice was heard over her mother's. Her mother's voice was high pitched, laughing at something the man had said.
Suddenly, Joy knew what is meant. She had told her mother she would be spending the night with a girl friend. It was the excuse she always used when Clay came home from college for a weekend. Obviously her mother was taking advantage of it.
Drawn to the sound of the voices, Joy crossed to the bedroom door. It was open a few inches. Joy froze at the sight through the crack in the door. She felt a numbness. To know what her mother was, was one thing. But to see it, be a witness ...
Joy caught the door jamb to steady herself. She wanted to turn and run, but a strange fascination rooted her to the spot Her mother was naked on the bed. A huge hairy man lay next to her, his hands fondling her thighs. Clothes lay scattered on the floor, thrown there in obvious haste.
Joy stared at her mother, at the heaving breasts swollen with passion. She watched as the man leaned forward and started kissing and caressing her mother, searching each mound in turn with his mouth.
Sobs and little cries of ecstasy reached Joy's ears. She couldn't take her eyes from the man's bobbing, weaving head as he made love to her mother. For all the two on the bed were aware of, Joy could have walked into the bedroom and stood over them.
"Sam, don't you ever get enough?" she heard her mother moan.
"You're getting paid," his sneer replied. "You know what I want, Baby."
Joy sucked in her breath. It made a hollow sound in her throat. She bit her lower lip to hold back a scream. A tremble shook her. She tried to think of the woman kneeling on the bed as not being her mother. But it was her mother.
Sobs echoed and re-echoed in the bedroom as Barbara Lansing gave voice to her lust.
Joy felt a nausea creep into her stomach. Her mother was returning the caresses now. The look of pleasure on the man's face showed the love was what he had asked for. His eyes were wild with lustful passion. It didn't last long.
Joy gasped as she saw her mother sink her teeth in the man's shoulder, bringing a grunt from him. She thought of animals, wild jungle animals.
The man shuddered, shaking like a big bull. Growls rumbled in his throat.
"No, damn you, not yet," Barbara screamed at him. Obscenities bubbled from her throat.
Joy wanted to cover her ears. Suddenly, she understood something. It was more than just money. Her mother was insane with lust. It was registered in her face, the sweet anguish of pain and want. She was enjoying it more than the man. Her curses were vented only to incite him to greater heights.
The man fell away, flat on his back, his mouth hanging open, sucking in air. Then he laughed. "Baby, you could kill a man," he muttered.
"You're not so bad yourself, lover." Barbara leaned down and kissed the nipples on his chest. She lingered there a moment, then flicked a trail across his stomach with her tongue and settled lower down on him.
Joy felt a nausea creep into her stomach. Still she couldn't move, couldn't take her eyes from the sight. Her mother's bobbing head, the man's face, his look of pleasure. Joy twisted her fingers together so hard it brought pain.
The man suddenly caught Barbara's hair in his hands and forced her on her back. It was obvious what he wanted.
Joy knew why her mother had done what she had. The man was ready, big and powerful. He rose and then flung himself on her mother. Joy clutched her stomach. It was almost as if she felt the pain.
Barbara Lansing, though, showed only wild delight. Her long slender legs danced in the air, in rhythm with her lover. The foul words came again, urging him on. Arching, churning, she found her pleasure. There seemed no end to the savage assault, the wild limb entanglement. Cries of rapture filled the room.
Time stood still and held no meaning. Joy wanted desperately to turn and run, yet the scene held her to the spot.
Perhaps it was the sudden erotic scream, her mother arching almost off the bed, that brought Joy back to reality. It was over. The man was finished.
Joy stared for a long moment at her mother's swollen, heaving breasts, at the look of contentment in her eyes.
Turning away, she almost stumbled and fell. Her insides were in a turmoil. A vomit formed in her stomach. Somehow, she managed to reach the bathroom.
Leaning against the door, she fought for control and finally made it. Her jaws ached. Suddenly, she knew the reason. She had clenched her teeth hard the whole time she was watching. God, it was so hard to believe.
Thoughts jangled in her brain. She wondered if she looked like her mother in Clay's arms. No, she moaned to herself. And yet Dr. Trent had paid her. The man with her mother was paying too, but for--for that. No, what she had with Clay wasn't dirty. They never ...
The picture of the big hairy man and her mother doing what she had done wouldn't leave Joy.
But she had seen it. And the woman was no stranger. Her own mother. Why? Oh God, why?
Joy trembled. She couldn't stop trembling. While she had watched, she had felt so strange, almost as if she was experiencing the passion herself. Maybe I am my mother's daughter, she mused. Maybe Dr. Trent was right. He paid me for making love to his son.
A bitter laugh caught in Joy's throat. She had been paid a lot more than her mother for doing a lot less. The laugh died. The truth was she had been willing to do it for nothing, pretending to herself it was love. Yes, now she could see it clearly. What was it they said about love being blind? She could add to that. Love was stupid, too. Why hadn't she seen it? Clay, a man with everything, and she, a girl with nothing, from Willow Street. It was all so terribly clear now.
Joy undressed slowly. Despair dug at her insides. Turning, she stared at her reflection in the mirror behind the bathroom door.
Her lovely body suddenly represented something. She had never thought of it like this before. Her mother with that man. Herself with Clay. Two bodies men wanted and were willing to pay for. No, that wasn't true about Clay. He couldn't think like his father. It was love with Clay. The thought was there but it wouldn't jell.
Joy ran her hands over her breasts, touching the marks of Clay's love making, still there A tremble came as she touched herself, moving her fingers slowly down to her flat stomach and then her softly curving thighs She could remember the times she had gone through this same ritual, back in high school, when her breasts first took on the fullness of womanhood. Then, after meeting Clay, she had known what it was to be a woman.
A frown creased her forehead. After that first time with a boy at sixteen, she had vowed never again and she didn't, until she met Clay.
When I was sixteen, maybe there was an excuse, an ignorance, she thought.
Her thoughts went to her mother. She wondered what she was really like. These past years, living a pretense, forcing herself to believe her mother was something she wasn't God, her mother was only thirty-seven. And I'm twenty, Joy told herself, twenty and I've given myself to a boy and a man. A harsh laugh caught in her throat as she thought of Clay Trent as a man.
Joy wanted desperately to take a shower, try to scrub away the dirty feeling that engulfed her. The shower would make a noise though. Her mother might hear it.
Back in her own bedroom, Joy dropped down on the bed and let the tears flow. Finally, she fell into a fitful sleep.
The phone awakened her. She picked it up, glancing at the clock on the table. It was shading eleven.
"Joy?"
She recognized Clay's voice, "Yes."
"I wanted to call you last night but I couldn't. Dad was furious. He just left on a call. First chance I've had to give you a ring."
"Oh," Joy murmured into the phone.
"I know you've got a right to be mad, Honey. But you don't know Dad. He's got set ideas. All he can think of is my becoming a surgeon like him."
"You ran out on me, Clay. Why?"
"I had no choice. If I'd have argued with him, no telling what he might have done. After all, he pays the way, Honey. I have to go along. When I graduate, there will be a good place for me at the hospital. Dad will see to it. You must understand that."
"I'm beginning to, Clay. Without your father, you're nothing. I guess I have been blind. Your Dad opened my eyes last night when he paid me."
"What do you mean?"
Joy forced a laugh. "Oh, he didn't tell you then. You don't know that he paid me five hundred dollars to stay away from you."
"He what?" Clay cried over the phone. "If I'd have know that I'd have had it out with him."
"Like you did last night at the cabin," Joy retorted.
"Be reasonable, Joy. Last night wasn't the time to try and explain anything to Dad."
"He explained it to me. I'm Barbara Lansing's daughter, and the Lansings and Trents don't mix, at least not in the open. I just isn't done."
"I don't feel that way. Look, Joy, we can work things out. I have to play ball with Dad, now. It won't always be like that. Suppose you come up to college next weekend. I can get Bud to room with someone else for a couple of days. We'll have the apartment all to ourselves."
Joy laughed bitterly. "No thanks. I'm sick of hiding. Find yourself someone else to sleep with." She hung up. Tears burned her eyes. Clay had given her an answer. The only way he wanted her was on his terms.