Chapter 10
For a time, the room seemed heavy with silence. John walked away from the bed, going to the window that overlooked the rear yard. He almost forgot about the cigarette in his fingers. It burned him slightly and he shifted it about, getting a better hold on it. He examined his fingers, saw they were not burned badly, forgot about it. He took one more drag on the cigarette, put it out in an ashtray. He turned, walking back to the bed.
"What happened?" he asked.
"I wasn't there," she said, not looking at him.
"But you know what happened, don't you?"
"Car accident," she said briefly.
"He was killed?"
"Of course."
"When?"
"Three weeks ago. Don't you read the papers?"
"I didn't see that."
She shrugged, did not speak.
"You said," he went on, "that she killed him. Why put it that way? That's harsh, isn't it?"
She cleared her throat. It sounded just as it had over the phone. She had fooled him then. Was she fooling him now?
"John," she said. "I misspoke when I said she killed him. I should have said he was killed."
He did not know why he should think of it, but he said, "I didn't see your husband around the house. Is he out?"
She laughed-nervously, he thought. "Keith is quite ill. He's in his room across the hall. He keeps his door locked most of the time. The doctor ... was here some time ago. Heer-" She stopped, bit her lips hard.
"I saw his father leaving the house as I entered," John said. "He seemed nervous."
She laughed shortly. "Is that so? he has nothing to be nervous about except all that money of his."
"I take it," he said slowly, "that you got me here for a purpose. Is it the same one?"
She moistened her lips. "You must think I'm a terrible person."
He shrugged. "All of us have our problems, our little defects."
"Very well put, Mr. Deering. I mean, John. I'm so used to calling you by your last name."
Big deal, he thought. Aloud he said, "You still think you should have an heir. Is that it?"
She smiled, but it came off badly. "I was hoping-" she said, and stopped again.
"Mrs. Ainsworth. Have you any idea of how wild this idea of yours really is? Do you ... can you imagine how absurd it seems to me?"
"I suppose it does," she said. "To me, it is very important."
"Try your doctor," he said. "You'll get better results."
"My doctor won't let me ... for a very good reason, John."
"Mind if I ask what the reason is?"
"I prefer not to tell you, but I will." She paused, went on, "My mother lost her mind, John. That's why the doctors won't let me have a child ... artifically."
"Heredity?"
"Yes. The type of insanity she had is the type that can be inherited."
He studied her, not knowing whether to believe her or not. She moved about on the bed, her breasts once again bouncing about enticingly. He felt a stirring in his loins, tried to put it out of his mind, but it came back. Unconsciously, he wet his lips.
"Don't you like me, John, not even a little bit?"
"I guess you're okay," he said.
"Then why all the fuss? You're a very virile man, and I know you are a passionate man. So why not? I'm willing even eager for you."
"When a man makes love to a woman," he told her, "he does so because he wants to, not for some other reason. Men are not like women. We have no other motives for lovemaking except desire. That's the way nature built us."
She looked at him, smiled strangely, reached up and pulled her nightgown off her torso altogether. "Look at me, John," she said. "Don't I cause desire in you?"
He went to the foot of the bed, stood looking at her lush body. He nodded after a moment.
She threw the cover off her body, raised herself, drew her gown off, lay there writhing her hips about, her lips parted, her eyes filled with lust.
"Come to me," she said softly. "I need you so."
He walked around the bed, stood near her. She reached her hand out, letting it come to rest on his fly. He heard her suck in air. A tight smile crossed her face. She laughed nervously, pressed her hand down firmly on him. He knew he was ready, and so did she.
"Please," she begged, looking up at him with her lustfilled eyes.
He swallowed. He had come to make love to Joanie and here he was being propositioned by Mrs. Ainsworth. He let his eyes travel over her breasts, felt desire come stronger in him.
She withdrew her hand and he knew a feeling of relief that he could not have explained. "All right," she whispered. "So you don't like me very much."
He moistened his lips. "I didn't say that," he muttered.
"Then ... why net, John?"
"I don't know. Something is bothering me, I guess."
"Don't I ... bother you, John?"
"Yes. Very much so."
"Then ... come ... to me, John. Love me, please?"
He saw the lust mounting in her eyes. Hello, he thought-she's not talking about a child, she just wants love. Aloud he said, "How do I know your husband won't come in while I'm-?"
She snorted. "You're not afraid of him, surely."
"I didn't mean it that way. I-"
"John," she said so softly it was almost a whisper, "what do I have to do to interest you?"
He recalled the last time he had made love to her. She had made love to him, actually. He smiled tightly, did not remind her of it. "Nothing," he said. "You already interest me."
"Then ... please?" She studied him. "Don't make me beg for you."
"I don't mean to. It's just that this is so damned cold-blooded. I kept thinking about why I was brought here in the first place."
"I just want you, John, not the child. Not now, anyway."
She had pulled the sheet over her legs partially. Now she moved about on the bed, her lips parted, her hips writhing. John felt suddenly very foolish about all this. He slowly removed his coat, his shirt, his shoes and socks. He left his trousers on for the moment. She stared at his bare chest, reached out her hand, pulled a few of the hairs on it.
"You're so masculine," she sighed. "More than anyone I've ever known."
He smiled tensely. She was quite a woman, herself. He lay down beside her, let his hands run over her breasts. She sighed deeply, parted her legs suggestively. He saw the move, lowered his other hand to her cunt. She sighed again, writhed her hips. I've never seen seen such a woman as this one, he told himself. She's dripping with desire.
She reached over, found his zipper, tugged on it.
"May I?" she asked almost timidly.
"You are, aren't you," he said.
"Oh, John, I do so love having you here with me. I can never get enough of you."
"Sure, I know," he said somewhat sarcastically, but not meaning it to come out in this manner. "You're a lonely woman."
She stiffened. "Don't be unkind to me, John. I couldn't stand to have you be unkind to me."
"I'm sorry," he said, and meant it. "I didn't mean to say that. It just slipped out."
She snaked her hand inside his trousers, grasped his prick. He sucked in his breath as she ran her fingers lightly up and down, took her hand, pulled it away, shoved his trousers down. She sighed and reached for him again.
He went above, parting her legs, and she cried out as he touched her cunt. He was now very ready to take her. She kept trying to grasp him, but he moved about without trying to thwart her efforts and she finally wrapped her arms about him, pressing down on his buttocks as he sought to gain the desired situation.
She held her loins up and he frantically thrust at her, found the cunt, pressed down hard.
She half-screamed when this was accomplished.
"Oh, Mr. Deering," she muttered. "You're so wonderful."
He scarcely heard her, so intent was he on making the proper movements. He shifted his weight slightly and she moved beneath him, wrapping her legs around his, holding his body rigidly against hers.
"Take me, darling," she breathed in his ear. "Take me hard, darling."
He grunted, did not reply. He increased the speed of his movements gradually until he had the tempo he wanted. He kept it that way as she moaned, sighed and cried out, alternately going from one to the other. He felt the terrific inner heat of her. It made him weak momentarily, but strength returned immediately. He sucked in air as fast as he could, but it did not seem to be sufficient.
He kept on battering her savagely, enjoying every intense moment of it. No matter which way he moved or turned, her loins followed his eagerly, frantically. This woman was highly sexual as well as love-starved, and the combination of the two of them working for deep satisfaction was a wild, hectic thing. Her footless legs were wrapped tightly about him, as were her arms. She had surprising strength, as he had noted before. She began to rake his back with her fingernails, but he scarcely noticed it.
"John!...." She cried out, as he struck a particularly sensitive spot. "Oh! ... my darling!...."
He moved faster thrusting with all the strength he had in his body. She thrust her loins up at him fiercely, and it happened in one long, straining moment.
"Oh! ... darling!...." she gasped, as she felt the release.
He rested his entire weight on her. She seemed to like this immensely, for she again writhed her hips beneath him as though demanding more of his harsh treatment.
He lay still above her, gasping for air.
"Darling! ... can you ... again?"
He raised himself, holding his body above her with his hands, looked down into her eyes. He saw there was still lust in them.
"Wait a moment," he said. "Let me get my breath."
"Oh! ... John! ... I need you so! Take me again."
He did not reply. He was too busy attempting to get his breath back to normal. This time it had been amazingly wonderful. He could scarcely believe it. There was something sexually wild about this woman that nearly drove him crazy with desire.
"You're somethin'," he said, sucking in more air. "You really are."
"I'm so glad you love me, John darling."
He studied her eyes. Hell, what was wrong with her? He hadn't told her he loved her. He thought about this for a moment, dismissed it. She was being carried away, that was all. He had not broken contact; he could feel the heat of her surrounding him.
The moisture was hot, maddeningly delicious. He wanted to remain in this position forever. She moved her loins again and again he felt the moisture on him. She still had her arms about his neck. Now she pulled his face down to hers, kissed him wetly on the mouth. This caused a new reaction in him. She obviously felt it, too, for she began to writhe her hips in faster tempo. He was tired, but tried to go along with her, desire mounting all over again.
"John darling ... you're such a man. Oh, I can't get enough of you."
Beneath him, she moved almost violently. She appeared to be the aggressor, momentarily. He found his strength returning fast. He slipped his hands beneath her buttocks, holding them firmly in his strong grasp. He pulled up hard on them as he plunged at her recklessly.
She screamed with delight. At least it sounded like delight to his ears.
He moved faster, and she once again kept her loins in place, following his up and down with perfection of movement. It was as if they had practiced this move for years, together. He felt chill after chill pass up and down his spine. His breathing was a hoarse thing, and so was hers, eventually. She caught his ear between her teeth, and bit down hard on it. She ran her tongue over the sides of his face, doing this alternately with biting him. This nearly drove him crazy with desire.
He seemed to have no control over it now. It was out of his hands. Her terrible urgency spurred him on until he was moving at a rate of speed so rapid it threatened to disrupt the whole affair.
But it did not. At least, he gave a long low sigh-and it was over.
He dropped off to sleep a bit later. He was not aware of being sleepy, just tired. He had moved off, lay beside her warm body, his arm beneath her neck. She had turned on her side facing him sr that her bosom brushed against his chest. It had been a comforting thing, the touch of her flesh in this manner. And then it had happened-sleep came to him unexpectedly.
When he awakened, the room was dark, and for a moment he did not know where he was. He sat up on the bed and it came to him. He felt strange. John seldom fell asleep during the daytime. He reached over, groping for her. He felt nothing but the bed. He lay back down, his hand beneath his head, staring at tehe darkness. He caught the scent from the pillow. It was the scent of cologne. A curious thing happened to him because of this.
He immediately became hard again.
He grinned sheepishly, sat up on the bed, rubbed his chin, grinned in the dark, got up from the bed. It was totally dark in the room. He groped about, found a switch, turned on the lights.
He blinked.
The light was strong. It hurt his eyes momentarily. He walked across the room, opened the door to the hallway, peered out. He had no idea of why he did this; probably he was looking for Julia. He noticed he was still erect, and it surprised him. You'd think that after two acts of lovemaking, a guy would be....
He stopped thinking. He had heard a crashing noise down the hallway. He walked down it quickly, tried the door to the room in which he had left Joanie. It came open and he stepped into the room.
He received a minor shock-she was not in the bed or the room, either, for that matter. How could she have left the room? She was too drunk to walk. Wait a minute, his mind whispered. It's later now; she has sobered up.
He looked about the room, having switched on the lights, turned off the lights, closed the door and walked unsteadily down the stairs. The hallway was dark. He went to the music room, for no particular reason, turned on the lights, looked about. Neither Joanie nor Julia Ainsworth was in the room. He noticed the music that had been on the piano was scattered about the floor. He saw that a window was up at the far end of the room and there was a slight wind blowing into the room. He took out his pack, lighted a cigarette, inhaled it, let the smoke out. He turned about, switched off the lights, walked out into the hall, went up it to the large front room, peered in. He could see nothing, found the switch, turned on the lights. They were not here, either. Where could they be? He did not think Julia ever left the house. At least she should be around somewhere.
He walked to the liquor cabinet, poured himself a drink of bourbon. He stood there sipping it, wondering where they had gone.
It was some minutes later that he heard another noise. This one came from the front of the house. He went to the hall and to the front door. He opened it, saw Harvey Ainsworth standing there holding an umbrella. John looked at the dark sky, noting it looked like it was about to rain.
"Well," Harvey Ainsworth said. "Do I come in or don't I, young man?"
John stood back. "Sure. Come in, Mr. Ainsworth."
The old man entered the hall, put down his umbrella. "Doorbell on the blink?" he asked. "I was pounding on the door for several minutes. Thought you were all dead in here."
"I seem to be here alone," John said guardedly.
"I suppose they went out to get more Benzedrine," the old man said, looking disgusted.
John looked at him, could not think of anything to say.
The old man walked into the front room, put his umbrella in a corner, sat down on the sofa, looked at John. "You have a surprised look on your face, Mr. Deering. Mean to tell me you didn't know about it?"
"About the Benzedrine? No, I had no reason to know it."
"Don't know much about it, I take it."
"No. Not much. I know it makes you high if you take enough of it."
"But you've talked to both Joan and Julia. Haven't you noticed how much they talk all the time? They hardly ever stop talking. That's one of the things Benzedrine does to you."
"Yes," John said. "Now that I think of it, they do talk a lot. I seem to have spent most of my time in the house talking to them, or listening to him, I should say, I suppose."
"Talk, talk, talk. That's all they do when they're taking the stuff. Talk an arm right off a man. I know. They've done it to me, both of 'em." The old man leaned forward, looked at John strangely. "Benzedrine makes some women very passionate, too. Did you know that, Deering?"
"No. As I said, I don't know much about it, just what I've heard."
"Makes 'em passionate as hell. It's no good for a man, though. Makes him worth just about nothing, sexually, but women ... whew!"