Chapter 4
Run! Run! She could not drive any too fast from the situation! She floored the accelerator on the straightaway, down-shifted to squeal around the curves, and then floored it once more, watching the white lines blink by at her side and feeling that each line gained brought her nearer to safety. Was Clark following her?
She glanced over her shoulder. The road was empty in both directions.
She was safe so far. Yet she knew very well what would happen if he ever caught her - and she would sooner spring over the cliff than submit to that brute. Clark! Now she knew where she'd seen him before, why he looked vaguely familiar. She'd never seen him as a servant at Vance's before. But... in the films! Yes, she'd seen several at the parties which featured a man with an abnormally large penis and a rather hulking manner of moving about - Clark. Vance must simply have located the film's actor, and then hired him for his own purposes - such as to give her twice as much as she could take. She would not submit to him; no, she would sooner die than fuck him.
Rosemary sped on, yet her mind raced faster than the car - she had covered little more than a mile. At least right now she did not seem to be followed - in fact, the road was devoid of all traffic. And that was her luck for she was still naked. She pulled out at a scenic turn-off which hung directly at the cliffs edge, and hastily pulled her dress over her body, skipping the underwear in her haste, just to cover herself. Then - continually watching for traffic - she tugged on her panties, put on her shoes, and even managed beneath the dress to force her full supple breasts into her brassiere.
There! Though no one had seen her naked, she had felt obscene every moment, and now - though still there was no one to see her - she felt clean. She remained a few brief seconds staring down at the large waves which smashed onto the rocks at the base of the cliff. The tide was coming in and each wave seemed bigger than the last.
The water shattered into a million fragments just as it had at Vance's, yet watching this did not give her a sense of calm or peace but instead aggravated her awareness of the hell she'd just lived through. And she was not now that far away from Vance's - less than two miles.
Again she spun out onto the road.
Now there was traffic; but after several more miles of driving she realized she was definitely not being followed. No, if anyone had wanted to catch her, by now - in Vance's big cars - they would have. She heaved an enormous sigh and eased the pressure of her right foot on the accelerator, slowing the Porsche to a safer speed. God had that been a close call! But - she kept repeating to herself - she made it, she made it, she was home free.
Actually she had to. hand it to Vance. Following her would not have been his style. Sadistic bastard though he was, he never used physical force to achieve his ends. He used only psychological force; and of course liquor and drugs. Drugs - the man seemed to know as much about them as a pharmacist; most of the things he used as aphrodisiacs were probably only tranquilizers - inhibition-dullers - but they certainly did work. Rosemary knew, all right; she'd had them several times, at the group parties, and never voluntarily. Accepting any drink at Vance's meant risking accepting a drug as well. Somehow this bit of unfairness was not covered by the club's rules: Vance used the drugs to program the activities he wanted.
Rosemary kept driving - south, away from where she lived - to clear her mind.
The Pacific was beautiful, with such a purity to the wild coast, whose cold water you could not swim in; the coast and the mountains, the redwoods and pastures and orchards, and San Francisco nearby - these things she had loved. They had been a large part of her life with Kevin - the Sunday drives, the evening walks after he came home from work, the spins into the city. She was so used to thinking about the past when thinking about her life, because the present, minus Kevin, was so empty, just a matter of her job, holding the house together, and waiting... A period of limbo. And for fun, for relaxation? Nothing whatsoever. This was a void in her life; a void into which had crept the horrible aberration of the circle.
And now there was the future, too; it would soon all take place again, her life, the things she had waited for, the things she had placed in cold storage for the duration of Kevin's military stint. The future; the bright, fresh future. Only the group marred the prospect, and she decided not to let that worry her to the point of spoiling her happiness. She would get out, somehow; that's all there was to it!
She spun along watching the sun reflecting orange in the car's hood, the blue-green Pacific with its gulls and occasional freighters, the precipitous coast clinging to the land at the point where the lush, manicured green became rock. The beautiful scenery made her feel better. She could think now. These were the possibilities, she said to herself, feeling rational; these were the ways open to her to proceed.
First, she could simply never go back to any circle parties. Then Vance would give the films to her friends, copy them and distribute them all over the area. They would make their way - the milder ones, the ones where she was not actually fucking - into the San Francisco skin-flick houses. Kevin would find out.. . and her life would never be the same.
Then, of course, she could just tell Kevin, tell him now by mail, perhaps. But the shame would be just too great. Even if they moved out of the state to start a new life somewhere, things between them could never be the same again. This alternative, too, was unacceptable.
The idea she liked the best was to call the police. She turned that idea over, watching a group of gulls flutter down onto the top of a large rock far out in the water. Yet this idea too was no good: the police in Vance's small community would consider him a solid upright citizen, and any little problems could be eased by money. Vance could always say Rosemary was a disgruntled mistress making up stories. Even if she were to lead the police into the film room, what, really, would that prove?
There were the more violent alternatives, too, of course. Violence was foreign to Rosemary, but she wanted to consider every conceivable possibility now, to know just where she stood. She could . .. well, hire . .. someone to kill Vance. Or she could commit suicide herself. Unacceptable ... all of them unacceptable. Which brought her back to where she started - either continue to submit to Vance's will in the hope he would let her out, the first sordid duty being to be raped by Clark - or find new members.
New members! Two, no less. And she simply didn't know anyone, apart from those actually in the circle, who would do something like that. It was really hopeless, she told herself. Yet... she would find a way. She would think it through another time when she would be fresher - perhaps she could find someone to talk it over with - and she would find a way. That's all there was to it. And for now, she must relax.
Though she'd arrived at no course of action, she still felt eased. The awareness of all the miles she'd now covered made her feel better, actually happy. The sun hung at her side, a giant hot-orange ball with its lower edge just ready to drop into the ocean.
Her stomach felt like a bottomless pit; she turned off the coast road to drive into Santa Cruz, where she found a pizza parlor and went inside. She stopped there because it was the first restaurant she saw, but the choice was fortunate. The man dressed in Roaring Twenties fashion tending the player piano, the happy crowd sitting at the long wooden benches, the waitresses making their way through the noisy, merry room holding five beers in a hand - these things helped her to retain, to bolster, the peace of mind she'd attained on the drive.
Rosemary consumed one-and-a-half pizzas by herself, and the spare half she gave away on an impulse to the waiter sitting at the piano. Rosemary had a good heart. She would never have fallen into the circle if others had been so decent as she. She was a girl who cried over injured birds and animals, who loved her husband and would never do a dishonest thing. She also knew how to laugh and enjoy her surroundings in a spontaneous way. She was a good person, thoroughly sound and likeable, and full of life. Full of life for one man.
She ordered a beer, and the waitress brought her a big, foamy mug. She tipped it and got froth on her lips, which made her laugh, then leaned back and watched the crowd, some of which was dancing around the piano now, the others sitting and drinking, eating, joking. The atmosphere was smoky and loud and just about ideal for Rosemary's present frame of mind. She finished the mug and ordered another, again leaning back and drinking in the cheerfulness. She turned down an offer to dance. No, no thank you; she was friendly but aloof, saving herself for Kevin. She would attempt to enjoy life in the meantime, in innocent ways like this, so that the self she saved for him would be interesting. She ordered a third beer, drinking it nearly in one tilt of the mug, and then she walked out.
For someone who could not take much liquor, three large beers represented a lot of alcohol to Rosemary. Yet, she was walking straight and she found her car, started it, and drove away in a normal enough fashion. She felt as though she were floating on a cloud, high above all concerns, buoyed up by the music and laughter and beer she had shared. Tonight she would write a long letter to Kevin and tell him how happy she was that he would be coming home so soon. She wrote Kevin nearly every night anyway, but tonight would be something special, a long and intimate letter to help him get through his remaining months in Vietnam.
Thank God he was not actually on the front; he risked terrorist bombs and sporadic violence, but only from the relative security of Saigon. He did not write much to her about his present life. He would be hated there, by many of the people on the street; and he would be approached by others offering him everything from black-market money to drugs and ... and girls. This bothered her, the girls; he must, after all this time, have had something to do with them. Yet Rosemary was mature enough not to begrudge him an occasional prostitute if it made his lot easier ...
She drove northwards, directly toward home and the letter she would write to Kevin, skipping the coast road this time because it would be too slow to say nothing of dark. She drove at a safe speed and in her caution hugged a little too close to the curb. Saratoga, San Jose, Sunnyvale, Mountain View, Palo Alto ticked off one by one. She was about to turn off on the smaller road which would take her to Redwood City, when she noticed a drive-in theater which was playing a comedy.
That she could use, all right. Something funny. It would put her in a good mood to write to Kevin. To be honest with herself, she did not look forward anyway to the lonely, dark drive home on the small road she must take, nor did she look forward to spending any more time than necessary in the lonely house. For time there meant more opportunities to think once more of the mess she was in.
She pulled in the drive-in, paid her money, found a place about twenty rows back and parked. They were showing a cartoon before the movie started - that was all right with her, too. With three beers under her belt most anything was all right.
She went quickly into the refreshment stand to get two more beers, to keep her in the rather deliciously potted state she was in now. But she would be careful not to get so drunk that she would pass out or be unable to drive.
Walking back from the refreshment stand she thought the deep brown colored Cadillac parked next to her car looked familiar. That was Sally and Frank Adams' car! She hadn't noticed it was theirs when she'd pulled in beside it. Sally and Frank Adams - what a coincidence! Yet she couldn't be sure; the car was brown and had a San Francisco license, just like their car - but it was too dark inside to recognize the faces. Rosemary walked past without pausing. She slid into her own car, behind the steering wheel, balancing the beers carefully on the glove compartment lid.
The cartoon, advertisements, and previews ended, and the movie began.
What if that was really the Adams' car? They were nice people, decent enough to Rosemary that she could consider them friends. They were circle members, true, but at this instant that is precisely what interested Rosemary about them, the fact that they were circle members as well as friends. They might be able to give her some advice about how to get out of the circle. Yet... she didn't know if it was them; all she could see was two heads in the front seat, and two more heads in the back. The prospect that it might really be a stranger's car kept her from going over and saying hello to them.
The movie was humorous in a mediocre sort of way. After about twenty minutes of it the driver's door of the Cadillac popped open and a man emerged who walked toward the refreshment stand. He sure looked like Frank! She would wait until he came back to be sure.
Frank Adams came back balancing a tray full of food and drinks and spotted Rosemary sitting in her car, his face breaking into a smile. He raised his free hand, forefinger extended, to say "one minute," and he handed the tray into his own car.
Then he came over to Rosemary's; she slid to his side and rolled down the window.
"Rosemary, what are you doing here? Are you checking up on us?!" he joked.
"Hi, Frank. No, I came to watch this silly movie. Saw it when I was driving past and thought 'why not'?"
"Do you want to join us for a drink?"
"Well, maybe. To tell the truth I've had a bit already."
"Then why not have a bit more? Sally's in there, and also Benny and Elaine."
Rosemary hesitated. "Circle members?" she asked.
"That's right," Frank said, "they're new circle members. As I recall, they've been to only a couple of parties. Hey, why the long face?" He paused, studying Rosemary. "That's not a circle party we're having over there!" he continued. "We're here to see the movie and consume a bit of alcohol. The main thing for Sally and me, actually, is getting out of our child-infested house into the fresh air. Left the whole confounded mess in the acne covered hands of a baby sitter!" He glanced at Rosemary's worried face, his own beginning to wear a look of sympathy in response. "Come on, Rosemary, have a drink with us," he concluded.
"O.K., Frank," she said at last.
With a total of four beers now under her belt, she did not need anything more to drink. But she needed a friend. She needed friends like Frank and Sally Adams - who as circle members could understand what she was talking about - yet who as normal, friendly human beings could also sympathize with her.
As she locked up her car and followed Frank over to the Adams' automobile, she knew she could confide in Sally and Frank Adams, that she could tell them about her problem and get advice from them. She had to laugh at Sally's startled expression when she recognized Rosemary at the car window.
"Rosemary! Do come in!"
Sally was in an exuberant mood, obviously loosened up by the alcohol and happy to see Rosemary. The young brunette entered the car and sat in the front, while Frank got in the driver's seat and Sally sat between them.
"Rosemary White, this is Elaine Simson and Benny . .. Benny . .."
"Johnson," the man supplied, extending his hand across the large interior of the Cadillac toward Rosemary.
"They're both new circle members," Sally added. Frank gave her a eluding look - he knew, as Sally did not, that for some reason Rosemary now had something against the circle and circle members. Yet Sally in her ignorance went on. "Elaine's been to - let's see . . . two parties ..."
"Yes, two," said Elaine, blushing a deep, bright red.
"And Benny's been to ... " "One. Just one," supplied Benny. "That's where I met Elaine," he added with a slight leer.
Elaine squirmed in her seat and blushed still more. She looked twenty years old, if even that. She was blonde, slender, and attractive except for a loneliness which came through her eyes. Rosemary felt sorry for the poor girl, and wondered how Elaine had gotten into the circle. Was it, perhaps, through the very same trap Rosemary herself had fallen into?
"I'm glad to meet you all," Rosemary said.
"And now for some drinks!" Frank broke in, sensing the tenseness in the car and trying to change it. "I've brought back some more Cokes for the rum," he said. "And we've also got a good supply of gin and tonic. What do you take, Rosemary?"
"Rum and Coke's fine," she said.
Frank poured a drink into a paper cup and handed it across to her. He whispered something to Sally, in response to which Sally also turned to Rosemary with a look of inquiry. Frank turned up the volume of the speaker hanging on the window, to prevent the conversation which would follow from reaching the ears of the couple in the back seat. Then both he and Sally turned their attention to Rosemary.
"What is it, dear?" Sally asked.
Sally was nearly ten years older than Rosemary, and felt motherly toward her. This feeling was perhaps heightened by her lesbian tendencies - at several parties she'd had oral sex with Rosemary. Frank himself had never touched the lonely wife.
Rosemary consumed several swallows of her drink before answering. Then she said: "I don't know what I'm going to do. I'm at my wit's end. Do you know what happened this afternoon?" They didn't. "Vance -Vance - had me."
"Vance!" both Sally and Frank said in shock.
"Yes, Vance! And .. . and .. . afterwards, he wanted Clark also to ... to have me."
"Who's Clark?" asked Frank.
Sally answered: "He's that big lumpjaw from the films. Doesn't have a brain in his head. Vance just hired him."
"My God!" said Frank. "And did you ..."
"No," Rosemary said, "I ran away! I haven't been home since. Really, I'm at my wit's end." She paused and took more of her drink.
"Rosemary," Frank said, "why did Vance approach you, Vance of all people?"
"I asked him if I could get out of the circle. He said I could if I... if I... " "You poor dear," Sally broke in, pulling the sobbing Rosemary to her shoulder.
Rosemary went on. "You see, I got a telegram today. Kevin is coming home. Kevin - my husband. You don't know him. But he's "very good, and I love him, and I want to be clean for him ..." She broke down completely, sobbing onto Sally's shoulder, and everyone took a drink. Frank filled the cups.
"Yes, that's a problem, all right," he said. "Getting out. Wait - maybe Sally and I could find a new member for you!"
"Two new members," Rosemary corrected.
Sally broke in: "We might be able to. But it would take months. It's such a delicate matter, really - finding them, sounding them out, preparing them to come to a party in a state of willingness - for if anything goes wrong they will spill the whole pot of beans. And then we are all in very big trouble. The police would be the least of it. Vance would be the trouble - what he would do to us all, out of hate, if we messed up his circle for him."
"When's Kevin coming home?" Frank asked.
"In three months. But I want to be out now. Now!" Rosemary sobbed.
"You poor dear," Sally said, stroking her hair.
"It's really an unfortunate business, this circle," Frank said reflectively, filling the cups again up to the brim. Everyone was now in a state of drunken melancholy. "Why do people come into it? Frustration, that's why. And society - which is schizophrenic and pushes everything into compartments. Sex, instead of being worked into a whole life, is a compartment. Sally and I felt the need for it, and we wanted to get out of the house and away from the kids a bit. If we had just had friends, there would have been no problem. But no, instead we had to go out of the house and seek these specialized friends. Sex friends. It's a special situation for Sally and I, for we both like girls ..."
"Shut- up, you old whore!" Sally broke in.
"It's true. And we do get some satisfaction in the circle. But still it's sad there have to be circles, instead of just friends and wholesome, well rounded lives."
"You said it!" said Rosemary, sipping again on her drink. She was nearly to the point of passing out, stone drunk.
"And there are people who really do thrive on things like the circle," Frank continued. "Vance is one, of course." He moved closer to the girls and added in a whisper: "And so is that Benny in the back seat. I'm really sorry we asked him to come along tonight. I've decided I just don't like the bastard!"
They all stared bleary-eyed toward the screen where the comedy played on. Everyone was drunk. And Rosemary felt herself becoming increasingly depressed as she realized that her friends weren't going to be able to help her. Sally had said it would take months for them to find substitutes for her, and they knew many more likely subjects than she did.
Rosemary couldn't think of a single one! It all boiled down to the fact that there was absolutely no one to help her but herself!
"Hey ... Where you going?" Frank slurred as she began to pull from the seat.
Rosemary opened the side door and stepped out, leaving Frank and Sally looking startled at her.
"I - I don't feel to well. I think I'll just go home," she said from behind the still open door.
"God, girl, I don't know that you should drive in this condition," Frank said. "Come back in and watch the movie a while. Better if you sober up a bit first."
"No, I'm fine," she forced a laugh and gently closed the door, waving at them in a confident way as she slipped back to her own car.
She crawled behind the wheel and closed the door, backing the car out immediately before they could come after her. The car slid a bit in the loose gravel as she turned but she righted it quickly out of sheer desperation to be away from there. All she wanted at this point was to go home and have another few drinks until she finally forgot her horrible situation. How could she enjoy a comedy at this point? To hell with the movie!