Chapter 8
Vesper shuddered convulsively, sought to sink deeper into the murky gloom. Checking her watch, she saw it was almost 9:00; soon total darkness would descend upon the outside world. While there, inside the store The Bon Ton this time it had been night ever since 6:00 when the last of the store employees had left.
She knew a chilling terror, a hollowing sense of loneliness, both emotions joining up to immobilize her. God, she moaned, how can I go through with this? Please, Gil, don't make me do this, don't leave me here alone.
She might as well have talked to the wall, for Gil wasn't here. It was the truth; she was alone, the deadly assignment was left entirely in her own hands.
Another week had passed. And Gil and Arnie having received a rush-rush order from one of their regular clients, both of them up to their elbows with other matters. "Send the Sparrow," Arnie had said. "She'll do a job for you. She knows the ropes. She's one of the best in the business. Hell, if we ever decide to take this troupe on the road, that kid goes with us. Talk about cool...."
The praise, Gil's quick agreement, the gang's confidence in her abilities had turned Vesper's head, had made the mission seem like a lark. And thus it had seemed all this long afternoon as she'd prowled The Bon Ton from top to bottom, had memorized the layout, had decided upon an ideal hideout in the carpet department.
Only when the time had finally come and she was alone in the vast, sprawling store, all the lark aspects had quickly fled. She was terrified, scared into near paralysis. And how was she ever going to make herself desert this safe lair, begin her 'shopping' tour?
The least they could have done was let Marcy or Dawn come along!
The shadows in the store seemed alive, there seemed to be a constant hissing in the air. Vesper twitched and started at every creak in the ancient building, she was positive the store was crawling with security officers lying in wait for her.
Beyond this were the gnawing hunger pains, the intense thirst. She thought to scout up the delicatessen section, scrounge an impromptu meal. She knew The Bon Ton had an extensive liquor department. But no, she scolded herself. First things first. like the 'shopping list' Gil had given her, her sole reason for being there in the first place. It was that time.
Still the terror immobilized her. How was she ever going to last out the night? It was endless. She was sure she'd go out of her mind before dawn rolled around. She actually yearned for Gil, for Arnie. No matter what uglies they might force her to, she'd willingly talk to, somebody to sit out this eternal vigil with her!
Finally she forced herself to rise from the pile of 30-40 carpets upon which she'd sprawled, a minor tower of nylon and wool compared to the other towers of stacked carpeting surrounding it, towers which seemingly guaranteed isolated privacy. The dress department first, she decided.
Her eyes accustomed to the gloom, she didn't bother to turn on her flashlight, she padded through like a phantom wraith. Now she reached the motionless escalator, started up. A dull, far-off whistling from a lower floor reassured her. The night watchman had passed five minutes ago. She had at least an hour's working time left to her before he returned.
Gradually, the mere fact that she was moving made her more confident, she wondered what all the sweat had been about. Keep busy, she admonished, keep moving. You won't have tome for worrying.
She reached the fifth floor, knew women's furnishings were on sixth, She moved more quickly, was halfway up the escalator, when a distant glint of light caught her eye, stopped her dead in her tracks. Her pulse racketed in her head, she strained to make out the light's source. Could it be? Was a detective prowling? Had she made a mistake? Were they looking for her?
The light came from a section devoted to men's clothing. And while it flickered, it nevertheless remained stationary. Vesper stood frozen in place for perhaps five minutes, her heart hammering, her curiosity growing by the second. What did it mean?
Now she stealthily backtracked. She reached the floor, padded softly through the department, closed in on the light source, strained her eyes sought vantage point where she wouldn't be too close, where there was no danger of exposing herself.
And then, peeking through a rack of men's slacks-
She saw the man, she saw the flashlight he alternately used to go through the racks of men's suits, placed on a chair when he tried different jackets on. He was a young man, perhaps 22-23 years of age. His hair was a sandy color, it was soft, worn long, combed to one side. He was of medium height, on the stocky side, but not fat. He had a nice face, a kindly light shining in his eyes as he appraised himself in a nearby mirror. He wore flattering, dark-rimmed glasses.
Vesper was amazed, then amused at the calmness with which the man went about his task; he acted as if it were broad daylight, as if he had all the time in the world to make his selection. But why, Vesper pondered, if he were an employee, a sales clerk perhaps, the flashlight? A crazy thought hit her. Noit couldn't be! Coincidences like this were beyond the realm of probability. Was he was he here on the same sort of errand she was?
She quite forgot herself, forgot caution. Thus, when the man put on a handsome plaid, modeled it before the mirror, shot his cuffs, shrugged his shoulders, ended by making a funny face at himself, Vesper suddenly giggled aloud.
Instantly the man dove for his flashlight, wheeled, shone it in the direction of the noise, caught Vesper dead in its blinding beam.
They both stared at each other wordlessly for at least sixty seconds, both their faces stunned, working baffledly.
"For Christ's sake," he muttered finally. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"
Vesper merely gulped, was sure she was in the soup now. "Are you.. .are you?"
"No, honey," he smiled, revealing even, white teeth, "I'm not a store dick. I'm unauthorized just like you are." He laughed. "At least I hope you are." The light dropped, went out. "C'mon over here. We got some talking to do."
As Vesper reached his side, as he gently took her hand: "God, I've read about things like this. But I never thought they'd really happen. In a story ... by John Collier ... there was this guy who hid in a store once ... he found a whole colony of people living there." He stopped. "Are you here for the same reason I am? Are you . . .pilfering?"
"I ... I guess I am." And in a quick, inexplicable rush: "Only I call it boosting."
Amazement filled his voice. "You're a pro? You mean you do this for a living?"
"You mean you don't?" she gasped.
"No, I just wandered in. This is my first time. I'm up against it. I need a stake, some new clothes. I thought...."
"You mean ... you just want the stuff. No money?"
"That too. I'm gonna lift some other things. I've got a buddy who knows a guy. They said if I could get them some cameras, some binoculars...."
Vesper's head was suddenly spinning. This was to incredible, it was coming altogether too fast. "Let's find a place to sit down," she said. "This is crazy."
Talk they did. And Vesper learned it was as the man had said: "He'd read about the gimmick in a book, he'd haphazardly chosen a store, intending to rob it blind. A vague sense of superiority invaded Vesper, she anticipated telling this jerk the facts of life. "Lucky, lucky...." she marveled. And proceeded to tell him about the roaming dogs, the electronic snooper devices the other stores used.
"You mean to tell me I'd have been so much dog chow if I'd have gone to, say ... Goldmark's?"
"That's right, stupid, beginner's luck."
"I suppose. You talk like you know all about this. You've actually hidden in these stores overnight before?"
Vesper was streetwise enough not to spill everything she knew. She told him she and a couple girls were in a gang, they worked together. She was careful not to mention Arnie or Gil, her reticence on this score intuitive.
The talked animatedly for perhaps ten more minutes, a quick rapport established between them, Vesper deliriously happy there was someone to share the long night with her feeling a smugness that she was the authority in this peculiar case.
"Hey," he said finally, "I don't even know your name. Donovan O'Leary, here. And you?"
"Vesper."
"Vesper? Pretty. Is that all?"
"That's all. You ain't named after that folk-rock singer, are you?"
He laughed softly. "I'm afraid I was born long before that guy came along. Donovan, it's authentic. Irish. In case you haven't guessed."
They both laughed. Then abruptly Vesper caught his hand, jerked it roughly. "Down!" she hissed. Instantly they dropped to the floor, scurried for cover. Just in time to see the watchman mount the stairs, commence his tour. And when he was finally gone, on his way upstairs:
"Wow!" Donovan breathed. "That was close. Christ, I never heard a thing. He'd have had me flat-footed."
Vesper laughed self-satisfiedly. "Somebody's gotta take you in hand. You're a regular babe in the woods."
They huddled in the darkness, talked in hushed tones. Donovan O'Leary was a very-likeable guy, decent, upright. Although a trifle snerdly, Vesper concluded. The way he spilled everything he knew. In a very short time she'd learned that Donovan was an engineering student at Hillyer College, located on Doncastle's outskirts. In his second year, he was having a rough time financially. This first adventure had been inspired half by dare, half by desperation. He needed $200 like now, it had been the only way out.
"I used to snitch stuff in the stores when I was a kid," he confessed. "You know, the usual stuff. Stamps for my collection, school supplies, paperback book?. Once I even walked out with a jacket I'd tried on. But a thing like this ... A guy really has to have his back against the wall. I'm a real babe in the woods."
"I guess you are," Vesper said. "Lucky someone was here to break you in right. Otherwise you'd have queered things for all of us." The 'break you in right' phrase seemingly took on a lewd connotation all at once. "You hungry?"
"I guess so. I don't suppose you brought a candy bar along or anything."
Vesper giggled. "You are green, aren't you? This night shopping is a blast. There's a delicatessen on the main floor. Let's go. You got the rest of the night to clout the rest of your stuff."
"Clout?"
"Boost, Donovan. You know, shoplift." She took his hand, again felt delight at his presence. "C'mon. This way."
The picnic they had afterward, Vesper taking O'Leary back to her lair in carpeting was almost carbon-copy of the one she'd shared with Gil Brewster that last time. If anything, she enjoyed it more for his innocence to the contrary, Donovan was a very funny, very interesting man. The dim light revealed him to be even more handsome close up than from a distance. Again and again Vesper was to wonder at the quick trust, the sudden warmth she felt toward him.
Again it was potato salad, champagne. Only this time there were pastrami sandwiches, some cream-puffs for dessert. By the time they were through eating, both sitting cross-legged on the mound of carpets, a throw rug beneath them to catch crumbs, they were tipsy, they giggled and joked like old friends. And yet it was not all humorous; Donovan was quite concerned about a sixteen-year-old pursuing a shoplifting career, he questioned her background, her life aspirations. When he discovered Vesper had none he was even more distressed.
"Don't be a crusader," she protested when he worked the refrain into the ground. "Don't preach. I've got nobody else. Nobody the hell cares. I'm makin' out the best I can." She wrinkled her nose at him, a dab of cream on its tip. "At least I'm no amateur."
An hour later, the meal interrupted once by the watchman as he made his rounds, they were finished. They cleaned up their debris, put it in a nearby rubbish bin like good citizens. "Let's split," Vesper said then. "I'll gather my loot, you find yours. We'll meet back here. And for Christ's sake be careful!"
Vesper fled through the store with confident, precise ease. The watchman's schedule in mind, she worked opposite floors in clock-work timing. The gathering of the 20-odd items on her list was almost routine. She was finished in less than 90 minutes. Twice she and Donovan's paths crossed, they exchanged whispered greetings, a curious camaraderie established.
It was as Vesper flitted through the lingerie department that the idea struck her. And studying the wicked, black-and-red negligee, as blood-boiling a collection of lace and nylon as she'd ever seen, a reckless, what-the-hell attitude was born within her. She went behind the counter, chose the creation in her exact size.
She was waiting for Donovan as he returned, burdened with a camera, binoculars, radio, watches and small jewelry. A $200 suit, shirt and tie, expensive cuff links, $50 shoes were also included in his haul. "I'll be the best-dressed student on campus," he chuckled.
By then it was well past midnight, the watchman's tours came at further and further intervals, they were both lulled into an exotic feeling of security. "Isn't this the craziest?" Vesper said, lolling atop the carpet parapet. "This feeling of having all this stuff around. Yours for the taking? It's like some kind of dream come true." She purred lazily. "I think I could stand some more champagne, Donovan. My buzz's wearing off. How about running down to the corner for some?"
"Sounds great," he said, rising instantly. "Will the 'Forty-seven do, madame?" Seconds later, he melted into the darkness, headed for the main floor.
He was no sooner gone than Vesper sat up, began undressing.
There was no question of modesty or morality involved in her decision; she was beyond such petty considerations. There was only this curiosity about what it would be like with a guy like Donovan. There was the fact that she liked him, that there were many hours to be killed before dawn finally arrived. And so long as she was passing out her body right and left, what harm if she tried out Donovan? Kicks, that's what it was, pure kicks.
But more than kicks. For lurking in the dim reaches of her mind was the frightening worry that she was irredeemably changing, that she was no longer possessed of any humanist tendencies whatsoever. She was becoming an animal, just like Gil and Arnie and Dawn. Just like Marcy.
Here another fear intruded. That Lesbian bit had been getting pretty steamy lately. Was she actually turning? Were those brutish excuses for men driving her to that eventual end? There were times with Marcy when Vesper had actually been tempted to try it herself.
A shiver hit her as she reached for the box. Then the wispy gown floated down over her body.
"Vesper!" Donovan gasped as he returned with the champagne, fresh glasses, found her lying atop the carpets in the riot-inciting nightgown. She'd stolen a drape cloth from a nearby display, two decorator pillows were arranged beneath her head, she was a very alluring piece of merchandise indeed. "What in hell ... ? "
She reached for him, adjusted one leg provocatively. "Get undressed, Donovan, honey," she slurred, feeling very worldly-wise indeed. "Please? Something to pass the time?"
Callow, comparative ing'nue O'Leary might be. But not that callow. The erotic promise, the uniqueness of this escapade stunning him, he began tearing at his clothes almost instantly. "You angel," he hissed, "you darling angel."
But as he clambered up that carpet embankment: 'The champagne, silly." Vesper giggled. "Let's get high."
They got high. And though Donovan fought to keep from gulping his wine, though he wanted to prolong this love, adore this teen-age wanton, visually and tactually forever, other, more-overpowering drives kept intruding.
"You're beautiful, Vesper," he whisperer!, his voice flawed, "so beautiful. So little, so sweet. God, who'd ever believe a thing like this?"
Her body writhed, her nerve ends caught fire, a greedy fist clawed in her entrails as Donovan's fingers caressed her nipples through the nylon, the silky sensation, his tenderness intensifying her desire. "Am I?" she sighed. "Beautiful, I mean? Do you really think so?" And she compared his awkward, awed love to that brutal version Gil specialized in. How long since anyone except Marcy had told her she was beautiful? Her need grew, she melted at the reverent look in Donovan's eyes, her blood turned to molten fire as his timid fingers fled over her body.
Then the champagne was gone, the glasses flung aside. Then they were in hot, heady embrace, Donovan as kissing her, she was kissing back like some famished animal. And in one of the few pauses: "This gown," he asked, "it's fantastic. Where...? "
"I went shopping for it," she giggled. "I bought it special for you." Vesper pulled him back, "yes, I knew, all along, lease, Donovan? Oh, now? Love me?"
"You crazy kid. Then you knew ... all along...." He loved her. Making a drawn-out, worshipful ceremony of removing that gown, kissing her fragrant body from hips up as the witchy creation rose, he had Vesper twitching and panting uncontrollably long before the gown was thrown aside. His kisses were tender, respectful, soul-searing. Again he sat up, studied her in the ghostly gloom, his face crumpled as he appraised that elfin, bursting-to-womanhood body. It was a look that made Vesper want to cry.
"Please," she whispered, "touch me again. Come and love me." The moment seemed magic, she was moved as she hadn't been moved in a long time. She wanted him with a chaotic, mind-unhinging lust. You dope, she mused. And you thought you were turning Lez? "I want you."
Then their bodies were compacted, their mouths were glued together. Paganly Vesper sent her tongue in search of his. She flung one leg over his, clenched him between her knees, so fiery was her desire at that instant.
He came to kiss her breasts, he consumed her nipples with his hot, restless lips. He was gentle at first, then he turned mildly sadistic, pressured them, playfully nipped with his teeth. His fingers held them captive, plucked and pulled them, rolled them even as has torturing tongue stabbed at their raw tips. Vesper whimpered, felt like white-hot tendrils were emanating there, spreading through her entire body. Now the searing roots centered in that erogenous terminus to her body, then clenched and wrenched and tore, lit intolerable fires there.
In a primal, reflexive move Vesper's hand went forth. She gripped, assessed Donovan, she fought to draw him to her. There was a place for this. A screaming, agonized, too-long-denied place. "Darling, please!"
The bold demonstration of her aboriginal need put Donovan over the edge; he could wait no longer. With a strangled growl he rose and moved over Vesper. He exulted in the spontaneous way her knees rose, came to pressure his flanks, the way her heels actually herded hkn to that torrid corral.
"Ooh, baby," she gasped as he came to her slowly, gently, an almost reverence in his seizure, "you are good, so good ... Darling! Oh, darling!"
For brief moments he froze, savored that hot snugness, those secret pulsing of Vesper's most secret self. "You sweet doll," he intoned. "This can't be your first time, it can't. But you feel like...." He began to move. "Wow, oh wow, baby...."
Vesper felt like she was gorged with lust, her entire body surged, yearned, reached out to him, she couldn't get the man close enough, she couldn't consume him greedily enough. "Oh, oh, oh!" she whispered. "Yes, like that. I need you. Yes, yes. Go, go...."
The savage rhythm of their bodies quickened. And that minor insanity possessing Donovan, turning his thrusts somewhat sadistic, it was as if he was actually trying to kill her with that blunted weapon.
But if this was murder, Vesper was all for it! She wanted to die this way uncounted times. At that moment the first glory mounted within her, she had all she could do to keep from screaming aloud. Even as it built there was pause, it seemed she'd retreated from herself, from this cauterizing passion, she held the ecstasy in abeyance.
Where, she wondered, when? When had it been this good before? When had those slow-climbing skyrockets so lazily exploded against the midnight velvet of her mind before? When had her sensation built up to so keen, so exquisite a peak, made her feel like she was being pulled through the eye of a needle?
Then she remembered. That first time. When Gil took her by storm, when he crowded her so unmercifully, sent her out of her head with lust. It hadn't ever been like that since. And how tonight? What did this mean? What was happening to her?
But there was no time for further questions. Now the total fury of her orgasm thundered down upon her. The screen of her mind exploded with hundreds of vivid, spattering splashes of multi-colored light, it seemed its very terrain was illuminated in glaring brilliance. She sucked in her breath in a coarse gasp, she squeezed her eyes shut, fought to savor every iota of the searing sensation, she strained to glory in each, individual, blinding explosion, to inventory it. This in the vain hope she could remember each stab of ecstasy and deliverance forever and ever.
At the last moment she remembered where she was, she recalled their deadly circumstances. Thus she rammed her mouth against Donovan's shoulder, she spat her cries of release against his muffling flesh.
She felt a sublime sense of fulfillment, of duty perfectly executed as she heard Donovan's guttural groans of completion twine with hers, as she felt that unmistakable throb, life pulse of the universe.
She went limp, gasped and sighed. "Great, darling, she choked, "that was simply great."
Again at I:30, the guard made the rounds. But by then, confident, their alcoholic glow replenished, they led charmed lives; nothing could touch or harm them now. So long as they had each other. So long as they had this exalting, transporting love-
Again and again Donovan sought to probe, he sought to understand how this miracle had happened. "Don't, Donovan," Vesper resisted. "It just happened. Don't ask quesions, take it for what it is."
Then, not too long after, their passion revived, there was no more talk. Lust steam-rollered any uneasiness, any lingering restraint.
This one seemed to last an eternity, Vesper achieved countless ecstasies, gleefully strung them on an imagined cord, eye-paining baubles made of acetylene fire.
Theirs was an ideal way of making the hours slip by.
In between they dozed, took turns standing vigil, each alert for the fateful dawn. And when both awoke, wanton fresh desire intruded.
Safe atop their tower of carpeting, light years separating them from the mundane considerations of earth and time-
Again and again.
Near dawn Vesper awoke, found that Donovan had fallen asleep at his post. She tenderly arranged the pillow beneath his head, covered him with a corner of the throw cloth, felt hot tenderness invade her. To think, she mused, that I'd sec the day when I'd be looking after someone. She thought Donovan incredibly handsome, she marveled at the boyish innocence in his sleeping face. A strange ache built in her heart.
At 4:00 the first gray light of dawn fingered his face. "Donovan." she shook him. "It's almost dawn."
He protested tragically. "Oh, no, baby. Not already."
But it was that time, there was no way to forestall it. They kissed, clung nakedly together a last lime. Then they rose, dressed, saw to all necessary security precautions. Their booty was secreted. Vesper's professionalism proving invaluable, they dressed in the stolen clothes.
And finally, just before it was time to retreat to their separate lairs, Vesper advising him in these escape procedures also:
"Is this it, Vesper?" he said, his eyes pained, pleading. "Kiss and run? We won't ever see each other again?"
"It's for the best. Donovan. It was wonderful, I'll never forget it. It seemed like we played a trick on the world, like we ran away from it for a while there. It's best if we left things that way."
"You won't tell me where you live then? No phone number, nothing? I have to hope I might bump into you this way again some day?"
"I have my reasons, Donovan. They're not very pretty ones. Please, leave it this way. It's been beautiful, I. . . "
He produced a pen, scribbled something onto the back of an elongated price tag, tucked it into Vesper's bulging handbag. "My address, my phone number. I've got a pad I share with a guy. If you should ever change your mind." His voice snagged. "I want to see you again, Vesper."
There was a last kiss then. Moments later they both fled their separate ways.
And as Vesper cowered within a half-empty storage cabinet in the house wares department, waited for an interminable 9:00 to roll around, she fought to understand this maddening emptiness she felt, this knowledge that no matter what, her life from this night on would never be right again.