Chapter 3
After Anne left, Adam sat at his desk and began composing a letter to her. At first he was hesitant about his choice of words. But the more he wrote, the more excited and aroused he became. He found himself enjoying the task of graphically describing their sexual relations, of using the words she liked to hear. He wrote longingly of their next meeting, of how eagerly he was looking forward to it, of how he hoped and prayed she would be as eager as he. He declared his love in no uncertain terms, describing the empty tortuous hours he would have to endure before he had her in his arms once more.
Dawn was creeping in at the windows when Adam finally finished writing. He addressed an envelope, folded the letter and sealed it inside. After a moment of deliberation, he rummaged in his desk, found a stamp and affixed it to the envelope. Then he jogged down to the corner and dropped the letter into the mailbox. He didn't want a day to pass before Anne received it. Returning to his cottage, he mixed himself a healthy drink, and gulped it while getting undressed. It was full daylight when, pleasantly drunk, he finally climbed into bed and blacked out.
The sun was high when Adam awoke. His head ached and his mouth felt furry. He glanced at the bedside clock. Ten-thirty. Good grief! he was supposed to have been at the gym at ten. Adam didn't bother to shave, shower, or make coffee. Instead he washed down three aspirins with a glass of tomato juice, and set out for the gym. If the boys who were there noticed his tardiness, none gave any indication. They were too busy enjoying themselves without being under the watchful eye of an instructor. In a matter of minutes, Adam had brought them to order and was putting them through a series of exercises.
By Friday afternoon Adam had had no indication that Anne had received his letter. Twice at mealtime he had glimpsed the back of her head and that was all. Not once, by chance meeting or otherwise, did they have an opportunity to exchange words. She had been in Adam's mind constantly. He was sick with worry.
On impulse, Adam dialed Olive Quimper's number. Anne answered. Adam's heart leaped, but he managed to restrain himself. "May I speak to Miss Quimper, please."
There was a moment's hesitation, and Adam knew she had recognized his voice.
"May I ask who is calling?"
"Coach Lombard."
There was another moment of hesitation, then an eagerly whispered, "Darling! I loved your letter. Tonight." Then he heard Anne call, "Miss Quimper. It's for you."
Adam's heart was thumping when he heard Olive Quimper say, "Yes? This is Miss Quimper."
He swallowed hard, got control of himself and said, "Miss Quimper, this is coach Lombard. I wondered if you planned to attend the game."
"Oh, dear boy, of course. I wouldn't miss it for worlds."
"Fine. I've arranged for you to pick up two complimentary tickets at the box office."
"Why, you sweet boy. But why two tickets?"
"I thought perhaps your roommate-I can't think of her name-might want to go too."
"How thoughtful of you. Her name's Anne
Yeaton, and I'm sure she'd love to attend."
"Splendid. There's just one thing."
"Yes?"
"Will one of you wear a bright dress and tell me the color? That way, I can spot you in the stands."
Miss Quimper giggled. "How cute. I don't have a very bright dress, but Anne does. I saw it in her closet just yesterday. It's red. I'll ask her to wear it."
"Excellent. I'll be looking for a red dress."
Mekins won its first football game against Seabrook, but only by the narrowest of margins. Adam knew that the victory was not because of him, but in spite of him. His pre-game locker room talk had not been a pep talk. Rather, his remarks had been desultory and uninspiring.
On the field, while the team had been warming up, he had spent most of the time searching the stands above the fifty-yard line, for the glimpse of a red dress. Foolishly, he had been thinking of making himself appear a hero in Anne's eyes. He had wanted her to look at him adoringly and worshipfully when next they met. But there was no red dress, no encouraging wave of a handkerchief. Adam felt let down. When the whistle for the opening kickoff sounded, he scarcely noticed.
At half time the score was 14-14. In the locker room Adam lectured the team unmercifully. They looked at him ruefully, curiously, accusingly. Inwardly, Adam cursed himself. He knew he was being unfair and unkind. He was taking his letdown feelings out on the team. He was making himself out a louse, and it was all because he had been unable to glimpse a red dress in the stands.
Toward the end of the fourth quarter, with the score still tied 14-14, Doug Gaskins skillfully manipulated his team down field to within field goal distance. Frank Davis, the field goal kicker, came in and booted the ball through the uprights from the forty-two-yard line. Two minutes later the game ended with Mekins the victor by three points. The stands went wild. So did the team. They hoisted Adam to their shoulders and carried him off the field. He felt guilty. He felt that he had betrayed them all.
That night, on his way home from Fairchild, after being forced to make a victory speech, which he felt was false and stupid, Adam bought a case of Scotch and carried it into his kitchen. He stood in the center of the floor and glared about him. By God, when she arrived he'd tell her a thing or two. She wasn't going to treat him like that. He was a football coach, and she'd better get used to the idea.
He built himself a drink and swallowed it. Who the hell did she think she was? Who did she think he was? He began pacing the floor.
Abruptly he stopped. Where the hell was she? It was after ten. She should have been able to get away before now. She had said tonight, hadn't she? Suddenly he tensed. What if she didn't come? God, he'd never be able to live the night through.
He plumped down into a chair and reached for the bottle. He tried to analyze himself, the situation. What had he allowed this woman to do to him? He thought about it, and always came up with the same answer. He was sick. She possessed him, body and soul. He was lost beyond recall. He had become a weak specimen of humanity. He had to admit it. Where, in . God's name, was it all going to end?
There came a light tapping at the door. Adam leaped to his feet and jerked it open. Anne stepped inside, "Darling! I thought Quimper would never go to sleep."
He seized her roughly by the shoulders.
"Where were you at the game? You said you'd be wearing a red dress. Damn it, we almost lost the game because of you."
"Oh, poo." She kissed him lightly. "I wasn't at the game, darling. Football bores me. It seems so childish and so brutal."
Adam wanted to choke her. But he didn't. Instead he pulled her to him and kissed her feverishly. "Oh, Anne, Anne! I die when you're not with me. I love you so."
"And I love you, Adam. Now let's not quarrel over a silly football game. We have many hours of happiness ahead of us." She pressed her body against his. "Tonight we're going to try out positions--. "
Adam scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom.
It was past midnight when Adam and Anne sat in the kitchen having their farewell drink. Adam looked across at his lover, his expression anxious. "Tonight, Anne?"
She smiled at him brightly. "Tomorrow night-if you write me a nice letter."
"Did you really like the first letter I wrote?"
"I loved it. It was even better than I expected. It excited me, aroused me. Didn't .I prove that while we were in bed?"
"You were wonderful!"
"I satisfy you then, give you fulfillment?"
"Satisfy me? Completely? No. I only want more of you. You'll never satisfy me."
She laughed, came around the table and sat on his lap. "That's the way I want it to be. Always."
"It will be."
"Promise?"
"I don't have to promise. I won't be able to help myself." He fondled her breasts. "I don't know what's happened to me. I've never met a girl like you. You've possessed me completely."
"And you don't like it?"
"I love it. It seems to me that I've been waiting for you all my life. Now that you're here, it seems like a dream."
"It's no dream, darling. I'm here, and I'll always be here. I've been waiting a long time myself. I knew I'd found my man when I first saw you at the faculty meeting." She stood up. "And now I must go. Nothing much can waken Quimper after she gets to sleep. She snores like a fog horn, but one night she might wake up when I come home so late and begin asking questions." Anne suddenly giggled. "I loved the way you called her about the tickets. Was that just so you could hear my voice?"
"Yes."
"Well, after I get your next letter, I'll call you, and Quimper won't be around. We won't have to pretend."
After Anne had gone, Adam poured himself a final drink. Sitting at the table, he thought, You're a shit. A poor, weak shit. A spineless bastard. She's a tramp, and you know it. She's destroying you, and she knows it. She's going to make you lose your job. Then what? She'll kick your ass out of her life.
And his last thought before dropping off to sleep was, I don't give a damn. She knows how to satisfy a man. I'll never let her go, Never.
On Wednesday of the following week, just as Adam was about to leave for Fairchild Hall at the dinner hour, his telephone rang. Eagerly he picked up the receiver. Anne had promised to call. "Hello."
"Hi, darling!"
Adam froze. His heart plummeted down into his boots. The voice was familiar. It was that of Betty Walker. Betty Walker, the girl to whom he was engaged to marry. Christ! He hadn't even thought about her since that first night with Anne. A sense of guilt and shame swept through him. With a great effort he brought enthusiasm into his voice. "Betty! Gosh, it's good to hear from you. How is everything?"
Betty's voice bubbled over the phone. "Darling, I have great news. Dad is driving to Sanborn ridge on business next Saturday. I'll ride as far as Mekins with him. He'll drop me off for the weekend. I'll be there in time for the game with Sydney Military. Can you find me a place to stay?"
Adam's mouth felt dry. His insides had turned to ice. "No problem," he managed. "It's the second home game of the season, and the town will be jumping. If I can't get you a room at the inn, I'll have one of the female teachers put you up."
"You sure I won't be too much trouble?"
"Of course not. No trouble at all."
Betty's voice was exuberant. "Oh, darling, that's wonderful! It will be so good seeing you again. I can hardly wait!"
"Only three days," Adam said. "Then I'll have you in my arms." It was what she expected him to say, and he said it. But to himself, he snarled, "You goddamn hypocrite."
"I love you, Adam Lombard," Betty whispered.
"And I love you, Betty Walker," Adam replied. He hung up and sank into a chair. God almighty, what was he going to do? What if he and Betty met Anne? What explanation could he offer? What would he say? Surely each girl would suspect the other.
Well, for now there was only one thing he could do. He picked up the phone and dialed the inn. Yes, they had one room left for the weekend. He told them to hold it for Miss Betty Walker. He'd stop by in the morning and pay the tab.
He hung up and sat thinking. Lordie, lordie, what a mess. Last night Anne had come to him again and had thrilled him anew with her sexual tricks. His second letter, she told him, had thrilled her even more than the first. She'd asked him to write another, and he'd promised to do so.
Well, he wouldn't write the letter. If he didn't, Anne wouldn't appear at his back door on Friday night. That way, he could get a good night's sleep. He needed it. He looked and felt like hell.
The thought of missing a single night with Anne depressed him. If he didn't write the letter what would she think? He had promised.
Would she think that he had tired of her, that he didn't want her to come? He swore aloud and got to his feet. Damn, damn, damn! She'd probably punish him by staying away a week. He'd go out of his mind if she did that.
He considered calling and trying to offer some excuse. The game. He needed a good night's sleep before the game. Balls! Football bored her. She couldn't understand that it was important to him; that his job might be at stake. He didn't call. He decided he had no alternative. He'd have to let things stand as they were.