Chapter 2

Somehow Adam got through the next day. He wasn't quite sure how he managed it. It was a period of constant torment, of excited anticipation, of recriminations and guilt. A picture of Anne was always there in his mind, tormenting, teasing. Subconsciously he realized that she had the Indian sign on him. The knowledge confused and bewildered him. She was a sorceress, a witch, and a bitch. Consciously he admitted these facts, then chastised himself mentally for having entertained such thoughts. She was a dear, sweet girl.

At football practice that afternoon he was standing near the fifty-yard line, watching the first-string varsity scrimmaging with the second team. Much to his own annoyance, he kept glancing at his watch. "Two, three, at the most five hours," his mind kept repeating, "and she'll be in my arms. We'll be in bed." He swore to himself, and looked up. Doug Gaskins, the quarterback, had come up and was respectfully waiting to speak.

"Well, Doug, what is it?" Adam snapped, and immediately regretted his tone of voice.

Doug said, "We just tried that end-around play. Did you see it?"

"Of course."

"What did you think?"

"It was all right. Why?"

Dong shifted from one foot to the other. "I was thinking. What if I tossed the ball back to Ferris and he threw the pass to Forbes? That way, Forbes could step outside, even if he was nailed at once. That way, we'd have an automatic time out."

Adam took a deep breath. He must get control of himself. It was a good suggestion. He should have thought of it himself. "It would be fine, Doug, but only if we were crowded for time. I mean, it would be a sort of crisis play."

"Good. I thought you'd agree." Doug started away, but stopped, searching Adam's face. "Is anything wrong, coach?"

"Wrong? With me? Why do you ask?"

"I don't know. You look sort of beat."

"Not beat. Worried. Seabrook isn't going to be easy to beat."

Doug grinned. "Then you can stop worrying. The game will be a shoo-in."

"I hope so." Adam smiled, adding, "I do have a hell of a headache. But it will pass. I've had them before."

"Anything I can do?"

"Just don't mention it to anyone else. If it gets worse, I'll ask Nels Darcy to take over for the rest of the afternoon." Nels was Adam's assistant coach.

Adam hurried through his meal at Fairchild that evening. Anne didn't come in until the dinner hour was almost over. His heart leaped at sight of her, but she didn't even glance in his direction. Instead, she sat at her usual place at the first table with her back to him and didn't once look around.

It was after eight when Adam got back to his cottage. He glanced at his watch. Perhaps she'd come earlier tonight. Perhaps she'd be here within the hour. The thought sent shivers up and down his spine. He busied himself by crumpling up some newspapers and laying kindling atop them in the fireplace. He sat on the sofa in front of the grate and imagined how it would be: He'd hold Anne in his lap, kissing and fondling her. Then, when they were both aroused to an unbearable state, he'd pick her up and carry her into the bedroom. The thought excited him to such an extent that he rose and began pacing the room, aware of the warmth in his loins, of the rapid beating of his heart.

When nine o'clock came and still Anne didn't arrive, he began to grow tense, listening with tightened muscles to every sound, hoping to hear her light step mounting the steps to his porch. He went into the kitchen and unlocked the back door. She'd come that way! Naturally she'd not want to be seen entering the front door.

By eleven o'clock, Adam was beside himself. Should he call her cottage? No. That would be downright foolish. What if Quimper answered? What explanation would he give for calling at that hour of the night?

Damn her! She'd lied to him. She'd aroused him to the point of insanity, had promised to come back tonight, and then had forgotten all about it. Tears of frustration filled his eyes. How could any woman treat a man like that? Perhaps she was with another man. The very thought turned on a frenzy of jealousy. He tried to reason. She'd said she had expected that her tour of duty at Mekins would be a bore until she'd seen him looking at her legs. She'd been sincere when she'd said that. He was sure of it.

At eleven-thirty Adam went into the kitchen and mixed himself a stiff drink. He sat at the table there, gulping it. "I've got to cut this out," he said savagely. "I'm not going to turn into a damned alcoholic. I've got guts enough to lick this thing without help." And then he tossed off the remainder of the drink, and poured another. Once he froze, his fist tight about the glass. He thought he'd heard a sound, a step, a subdued voice. An instant later he relaxed when a cat squalled just beyond his door.

It was after one when Adam finally went to bed. He was stoned. Standing in the middle of the bedroom, he tried to remove his trousers, tripped and fell flat on his face. For a long time he lay full length, breathing hard, cursing. "Goddamn you, woman, what are you doing to me?" He began to cry. "You weak sonofabitch," he reprimanded himself, "get hold of yourself. What kind of a man are you?" Whimpering, he managed to tug off his trousers and climb into bed. Still whimpering like a chastised puppy dog, he fell into a drunken slumber.

The ringing of the telephone awakened Adam the next morning. Groggily he reached for the instrument and fumbled the receiver off the hook. " 'Lo," he said thickly.

"What's with you, man?" a male voice asked.

"Who's this?"

"Ben Hearst. Thought we had a date for a set of tennis a couple of hours ago."

Adam stiffened. Christ! He'd entirely forgotten that he'd promised to meet Ben at the courts before classes started. "Damn it, Ben, I'd forgotten entirely. No excuses, except that I had one of those bloody headaches last night and took a couple of belts before going to bed. Overslept, I guess."

"How do you feel now?"

"Okay. Is it too late for a game?" He hoped to hell Ben would say it was. At the moment Adam doubted his ability to get out of bed.

" 'Fraid so. I've a class in fifteen minutes."

"I'm sorry as hell, Ben."

"Forget it. We'll make it another time."

"Right." Adam hung up, swung his feet to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, head in hands. Now, by God, he did have a headache. A beaut. Well, he'd have to live with it. He was about to try staggering into the bathroom, when the phone rang a second time. This time it was a girl at the other end of the line. Adam's heart leaped. Could it be-but it wasn't. It was Maude Parker, Gideon Hodgkiss' prim-looking secretary.

"Just wanted to remind you of the reception tonight, Mr. Lombard."

"Reception?" Adam said blankly.

"I'm sure you read about it in your opening week schedule. Or perhaps you didn't receive one."

"Schedule? No," Adam lied, "I didn't receive one."

"Oh, I am sorry. Those things sometimes happen." Adam got the distinct impression that Miss Parker was telling him that such things never happened if left in her hands. "In the meantime," Miss Parker went on, "I'll remind you that the reception is being held this evening in the gymnasium. Dean Hodgkiss will be the host. There will be dancing and refreshments. Please try and be there at eight."

"Of course. And thank you for reminding me, Miss Parker."

Later, brooding over his second cup of black coffee in the kitchen, Adam thought, "She'll be there. She'll have to be." He brought his fist down on the table top. "Goddamn her, I won't speak to her. I'll show the little bitch that a toss in the hay means no more to me than it did to her."

Adam arrived at the gym promptly at eight. The room was gaily decorated with banners and streamers. A small combo sat on a raised platform. In front of it stood the reception line consisting of Mr. and Mrs. Hodgkiss, Miss Parker, and five other people Adam didn't know but who, he presumed, were somehow connected with the school.

Adam's eyes swept the room, and suddenly his heart was in his throat. He felt cold inside and his hands began to sweat. She was standing in a corner, chatting with a group of faculty members. At the moment she was facing him and their eyes met fleetingly. Then Anne deliberately turned her back to him and stared up into the leering face of a fat, gray-haired old man whom Adam recognized as a chemistry teacher.

Adam's jaw tightened. Resolutely he strode toward the reception line. "Damn her!" he swore. "Damn her to hell." And yet he was maddeningly aware that his heart was pounding. Adam moved through the line, murmuring the proper words, showing the proper amount of respect. He shook the last hand just as the combo began playing its first number. Without thinking, as though impelled by a force beyond his control, Adam strode across the floor and stopped in front of Anne. "May I have this dance?" he asked.

For a moment she stared at him blankly. Then her face lighted up in a smile. "Of course, it's Mr. Lombard. We met at the faculty meeting." She turned, nodded briefly, then came into his arms. At the first touch of her, he began to tremble. All of his resolutions were shot to hell in that first moment. Putting his mouth close to her ear he whispered, "You promised to come over last night. Why didn't you?"

Anne threw back her head and laughed softly. When she spoke it was in a conversational tone, quite as if they were discussing the attractiveness of the decorations.

"You said tomorrow night. It was four o'clock in the morning. That would make tomorrow tonight."

Adam's heart did a flip-flop. By God, she was right. He'd been an idiot. "Will you come tonight?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Yes. Oh, yes. I've thought of you every minute," he assured her.

Suddenly, briefly, she thrust her body up against his. Then her head was back once more and she was smiling up into his eyes.

"I can feel that you want me to come."

Abruptly Adam realized that he had an erection and she had felt it. He blushed.

"Blushing becomes you," she told him, "but it isn't necessary. It's the way I want you to react when you have your arms around me." She wasn't, he knew, referring to his blushing.

"Let's leave now," he begged. "Right now."

She laughed as though he'd made an amusing remark. "We can't, silly. We'd be too conspicuous. After this dance, you go home. Tell them you have a headache or something. I'll break away as soon as I can. Leave your back door unlocked."

When the dance ended, Adam relinquished Anne to the group with whom she had been chatting and made his way to the reception line. He stood in front of Mr. and Mrs. Hodgkiss and smiled weakly. "I'm awfully sorry, but I have a really mean headache. I'm afraid I'd better go home and lie down. It was a delightful party."

"Oh, you poor boy." There was concern in Mrs. Hodgkiss' voice. "Do you have frequent attacks? Mr. Hearst mentioned that you were forced to miss a tennis date with him this morning for the same reason."

Walking home through the cool night air, Adam thought, "Christ! This headache business is getting out of hand. Why couldn't Hearst have kept his mouth shut?" It occurred to him that if old man Hodgkiss became convinced that his head football coach was subject to migraines, he might lose his job. But it was only a passing concern. Adam was too excited, too eager for what lay ahead.

Reaching his cottage, he let himself in, switched off the outside light, bolted the door and went immediately into the kitchen and unlocked the rear door. Afterward, he got out glasses, a bottle of Scotch and yanked a tray of ice cubes from the refrigerator. He strode into the living room, touched a match to the material in the fireplace and "stood for a moment staring down at the leaping flames. He was aware that even now he was listening for her step at the back door. He switched on a bridge light, then put a stack of records on the player, turned the volume down low, and looked around. It was an inviting, intimate scene.

Adam returned to the kitchen and was about to mix himself a drink when there was a light tap at the door. He put down bottle and glass, strode to the door and jerked it open.

Anne stepped quickly inside and closed the door. She looked more beautiful than ever. Her eyes were bright, her expression eager. "I came as quickly as I could," she breathed.

"It seemed like forever."

Then they were locked in each other's arms, their lips and tongues crushed together in a passionate kiss. Adam pulled away at last. "Would you like a drink?"

"That can wait. Just hold me."

For answer, Adam picked her up, carried her into the living room and sat her on his lap in front of the fire. She wiggled contentedly. "This is nice," she whispered. "Cozy and intimate." She lifted her face, her lips slightly parted. "Kiss me," she said.

Adam bent his head and kissed her hungrily. They held the embrace for a long time. Tentatively, Adam ran his hand up under her skirt. She wiggled. "Ummm. That feels good. I like it. Please go higher."

His hand moved about under her skirt. He was painfully aware of the great throbbing bulge in his crotch. Deliberately she moved her fanny atop it, relieving the pain somewhat. Again she looked up at him. "Do you like that?"

"I love it."

"Tell me."

"I love feeling you moving on top of me."

"I think you'd better take me to bed before we both explode."

Adam scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. They undressed quickly. For a moment Anne stood in front of him, savoring his admiring inspection. She was perfectly built, perfectly rounded in the right places. "Am I satisfactory, Adam?"

"You're the most beautiful creature I could ever imagine," he admitted, awestruck. "Sexy?"

"Beyond belief."

"Do you want me."

"Desperately."

"Show me."

In the next instant they were in bed, gasping, feeling, kissing, engaged in a mad fore-play. At last, when Adam could contain himself no longer, he prepared to mount her. She held him back and he looked at her in astonishment.

"A girl--likes to be told what's going to happen to her, darling. What are you going to do to me?" she asked.

The astonished look remained on his face. "Sexual intercourse," he mumbled. "Fornicate."

She slapped his face lightly. "I don't want to hear those dull old dictionary words. I want to hear the words that have a real sexy meaning, words that arouse me and should arouse you." There was a vicious gleam in her eyes. "Tell me," she hissed. "Say the words you know I want to hear."

"Fuck!" he blurted. "I'm going to fuck you."

Instantly her expression softened. "That's it, darling. You're going to fuck me and I'm going to love it." She squeezed his penis. "What's that?"

"My pen-" he began, but when the look came back into her eyes, he said, "It's my cock."

"And what's that down between my legs where your hand is now?"

This time he didn't hesitate. "It's your cunt."

She gave a little shiver of delight and kissed him. "Those are the words we're always going to use whenever we're making love in the future. Those and a few others. Doesn't the mere sound of them excite you?"

Adam admitted that they did, which was true. Anne rolled over onto her back, spreading her legs. "Come fuck me, Adam, darling," she invited.

Later, stark naked, they sat at the kitchen table having their first drink. Adam couldn't keep his eyes from her beautiful body. He hadn't wanted to get out of bed, but Anne had told him. "We must rest for a while, darling. We'll enjoy it so much more if we do. I want you always to be this eager."

"I couldn't be any more eager than I am right this minute," Adam had told her.

But she had insisted that they go into the kitchen and have their drink. Now she said, "Do you enjoy looking at my naked body, Adam?"

"Yes," he cried hoarsely. "I adore it."

"Do you think you could fall in love with me?"

"I know I could. I already have."

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

"Say it," she insisted in a serious tone. "I love you, Anne. More than I ever thought it possible for any man to love a woman."

For a moment her eyes gleamed, "Then you'll do something for me, if I ask?"

"I'd do anything for you, Anne. I'd love doing things for you."

Anne got up and came around the table. She stared down into his lap. "From the way that thing is jumping around, I think it's time we got back into bed."

A moment later they were back in bed, locked in each other's arms. Adam wanted to get into action at once, but again Anne held him back. Misunderstanding the gesture, Adam grated, "I'm going to fuck you, Anne. Fuck, fuck you, fuck you. That's what you want to hear, isn't it."

"Yes, only."

"Only what?"

"You said you'd do anything for me."

"I will. Damn it, I will."

"I want you to write me letters. I want you to describe everything that we've done tonight, using the proper words, telling me how much you enjoyed it and how much you love me."

Adam hesitated, and Anne took his chin in her hand, looking deep into his eyes. "If you knew how such a letter would arouse me, you'd enjoy writing it." And when he still hesitated, she went on, "Either you'll promise to write those letters, dear, or I'll leave right now and you'll never get me into this bed again."

"No!" he cried hoarsely. "For God's sake, Anne, don't say that. You're tearing me apart."

"Then, will you write the letters ? '

"Yes, xes, yes."

"Promise?"

"I promise. You can depend on it."

She smiled and kissed him. "Thank you." She pulled him over on top of her. "Fuck me again, darling. This time hold back as long as you can. Make it last."

It was one o'clock when they finished their second drink and Anne began putting her clothes on. Adam started to get dressed also, but she stopped him. "Stay exactly as you are, darling. I want to remember you standing there naked."

So Adam, feeling rather foolish, stood in the middle of the floor, stark naked, watching Anne pull on her panties, adjust her bra, and finally drop her dress over her head. He wished she had prolonged the business.

At the kitchen door, she took hold of him and kissed him longingly. Feverishly he asked, "Will you come over tonight, Anne? Please."

She shook her head. "Not until I've received your first letter. If it is as exciting as I want it to be, then I'll come."

"I'll write it before going to bed," he promised.

She gave him a squeeze, kissed him again, took a last lingering look at his naked body, and left.