Chapter 7

It was not lost on him. He sat down beside her, looked at her bosom, let his eyes travel down her lovely body. She was still wearing her slacks and they fitted her like skin. Everything about her lower body was revealed by them. He found the sight of her interesting, nice.

"You're very pretty," he commented, meaning it. "And you, you're very rough, Mr. Deering."

"Yes," he said. "Sometimes I am." He lowered his head to her bosom and pressed his lips on her there. She gasped, tried to straighten up, to get away from him, but he held her firmly with his hands as he continued to caress her.

"Please, Mr. Deering ... stop this. I demand that you stop it."

He paid no attention to her protests. While he did not intend to go the whole distance with her, he thought it about time to let her experience what was coming up for her later. He had to duck her hands as she struck at him, crying out at him at the same time. He finally caught both of her hands in one of his, held them away from his face.

"Mr. Deering," she cried. "This isn't the time or place for what you're doing. Please stop it. Do you hear me?"

He straightened up, grinned at her. "Supposing I don't want to stop it. What then?"

"I'm asking you to stop it," she cried. "I'll tell you when I want you to-"

"No," he said firmly. "You won't tell me anything of the kind. I'll tell you."

He picked her up from the bed, carried her to the door, took care to set her down on her feet so she would not fall, opened the door, gave her a gentle push. He stepped back from the door, looked at her, seeing the surprise and disappointment in her eyes. He saw something else, too-undisguised lust.

"When I'm ready for you, Mrs. Ainsworth, I'll come to your room," he said politely, and slammed the door in her face.

He heard her cry out at him but did not open the door again. She rapped on it, tried the knob. He held the knob so she could not turn it. Mrs. Ainsworth, handicapped or not, needed to be taught a lesson. She was altogether too much the bossy type, the type that says, "I want this, I want it now." John did not go for this. Nor would he ever go for it.

It was the following evening that he walked into the music room looking for Joan. He had not seen her all day; nor had he seen Mrs. Ainsworth; she had remained in her room, apparently. He thought he had heard Joan enter the music room while he had been in the front room having a drink. He looked about, did not see her at first. Then he discovered her lying on a sofa at the far end of the room, her eyes closed. He walked over to her, stood looking down at her.

"Hey," he said. "Are you taking a nap?"

She opened her eyes. "Hi," she said shortly, and closed her eyes again.

He sat down beside her, took her hand in his. She opened her eyes again. "You don't sound very friendly," he said.

She gently withdrew her hand. "After what happened yesterday, I can hardly look anyone in the eye."

He laughed. "Next time we'll have to lock the door."

She bit her lips. "My aunt is furious with me, hasn't spoken to me today at all. I went to her room to speak to her and she wouldn't let me in. Even my uncle is angry."

"Why is he angry?"

"He's in on this thing, too, you know. He wants you to get it over with and leave. It's as simple as that."

"He's quite a fellow," John said dryly, "He's vicious," she said. "Just plain vicious. I'm afraid of him, what he might do."

John was mildly surprised. "He doesn't strike me as being the vicious type."

"Well, he is." She held up her arm. "Look at my wrist. He burned me with a cigarette this morning."

John saw the red, angry-looking burn on her wrist. "Why did he do that?" he asked, puzzled.

"He ordered me to stay away from you, told me I had to avoid you. He said I was gumming up the works."

"I see. He wants me to devote my-er-energies to his wife. Is that it?"

"Yes. To put it bluntly, yes."

He said nothing, watched her as she reached over to the end table nearby, picked up a piece of paper and handed it to him. He saw it was a check made out to him by Keith Ainsworth for one thousand dollars.

"What's this?" he asked. "My paycheck?"

"Uncle Keith has gone out. He told me to give this to you. I have a message for you. He wants you to do your job-that's the way he put it-and clear out. He wants it done tonight."

"Your uncle is taking quite a risk, giving me a thousand bucks," John said coolly. "He apparently doesn't know much about theer-due process of having children."

She did not speak, nor did she look at him.

He put the check on the table. "What would you think, Joanie, if I told you I'm not going to oblige them?"

Now she glanced at him sharply. "But you have to. We're depending on you."

He glanced at her even more sharply. "What do you mean, 'we're depending'? Are you in on this thing, too?"

"Yes," she said, after a moment's hesitation. "None of us has any money. We can't starve to death."

"Any of you people ever consider going to work?" he asked dryly.

She flashed him another sharp look. "You're a fine one to talk, John Deering. You don't have a job."

"True. But I can get one whenever I feel like it. I don't depend on phony schemes to keep me in dough."

"Phooey," she said. She sat up, smoothed her dress down. He caught a glimpse of flesh above her stockings, got an idea. He considered it briefly, spoke. "I won't be able to-take care of your aunt."

Again she smoothed down her skirt, tried to pull it down on her legs. It was too short to be pulled any farther. "Oh, damn," she said, apparently to herself. She looked up at John, seemed to realize what he had just said. "Why not?" she asked, her lips parted in pretty fashion.

He said it carefully. He had no clear idea of why he was doing it this way. Perhaps it was for the fun of it. "Because your aunt does not affect me properly."

"You mean you can't...?"

He nodded, trying hard not to grin. He saw the worried look on her face. She frowned, bit her lips. "But you have to, John, you simply have to manage it"

"Nope. I've tried," he lied, still trying not to grin. "I can't swing it with your aunt. I'm sorry, but she leaves me cold."

She was silent for a time. Then: "John, I have an idea. I have an effect on you, haven't I?"

"You know the answer to that," he said, eyeing her shapely legs, wondering if they were as moist as they had been the day before.

She squeezed his hand. "Then I can get you-excited, shall I say?-and you can ... well, you know, go and see my aunt while you're still ... you know."

"I think that's a great idea," he said, pretending it was.

"Wait a minute," she said, seemingly growing cautious. "You just told me you weren't going to oblige."

He thought fast. "True. The reason I wasn't is because of what I just told you."

She got to her feet, took his hand. "Come on. We'll go upstairs to my room. You can get yourself all set and then-"

"And then I call on your aunt. Is that your plan?"

"Y-yes."

He had to fight to suppress the grin that wanted out. "All right, Joanie. Upstairs we go."

They walked out into the hall and as they headed for the stairs, the doorbell rang. She stopped. looked around wildly, made a face. "Darn," she said. "I forgot. That must be Mark Harkins. I'm supposed to have a date with him tonight."

John felt a slight stab of jealousy. "Tell him you don't feel well," he suggested. "Get rid of him."

She shook her head. "No. I wouldn't lie to him. He's nice."

John felt the second stab of jealousy. "Oh, the hell with him," he said, annoyed. "I'll tell him to beat it."

"You will not," she said almost angrily. "What's so special about this guy?" The doorbell rang again.

She looked away from him. "All right, I'll tell you. He's very rich and I'm going to marry him."

John walked away from her, his heart thumping crazily. He stopped at the foot of the stairs. "Okay," he said acidly. "Go answer the door, baby. Me, I'm going upstairs where there's at least a partially decent woman."

"John," she said her face looking agitated. "I hope you aren't mad at me."

He looked her up and down. "You make me a trifle sick," he said, and went up the stairs without looking back once. She called to him, but he kept on going until he reached his room. He entered, picked up the bottle he had brought up earlier, uncapped it and drank from it. John was annoyed and jealous. This surprised him. He had no real reason to be jealous. Hell, he'd just met the girl the day before. The truth was, he wanted very much to have her, and have her now. Instead, she was going out with some jerk. John knew instinctively, without ever seeing the guy, that Mark whatever-his-name-was was a jerk. When this thought hit him, he smiled. What's coming over me? he asked himself. I must be flipping. Maybe he's an okay guy. (He did not want to believe this.) Have I fallen for this girl? It looks like it. He found that this thought intrigued him and irritated him as well.

He went over to the bed, carrying the bottle, lay down and stared at the ceiling. He had not closed his door, and some time later he heard voices talking in the hallway below. The door slammed and he knew Joanie had left the house with the guy.

John got up from the bed, his face flushed from several long drinks of whiskey plus his resentment, which he could not understand. He walked to the door, left the room, went down to Mrs. Ainsworth's door, rapped on it

"Come in," she called to him.

He pushed open the door, stepped into the room, looked at her. She was in die bed, sitting up. Her shoulder straps, as usual, were down. He looked at her large, pointed breasts, moistened his lips.

"I've come to do my job," he said shortly.

She seemed to be studying him. He walked across the room to the bed, looked down at her. Her lips parted and she drew in her breath sharply.

"Something wrong with you?" she asked.

"Hell no. I just told you why I'm here."

She pulled one shoulder strap up in place, then the other. He walked around the bed, yanked the straps back down.

"Stop that," she said. "How dare you?"

"Nuts," he said. "Your husband just paid me one thousand bucks. I'm going to earn it and cut out of here."

"But I don't want you to-"

"I don't give a damn what you want," he growled.

He yanked the cover off her body, threw it aside. He saw the strange wild look in her eyes, paid little attention to it. She tried to move away from him, but he grabbed her, held her down on the bed, parting her legs forcibly.

"John," she gasped. "Please ... not now. Don't force me."

"Go to hell, lady," he said, and prepared himself.

"What's come over you?" she cried. "You're acting crazy."

"Could be," he said, and crawled between her legs. She cried out, but he paid no attention to her protest.

He made quick work of it. Finally, she lay still and let him do as he wished. Had he not been in such a state of anger he would have enjoyed her immensely, but the way it was, he felt little satisfaction when he arose from her body.

"There you are, my dear woman," he said angrily. "I hope to hell it works for you. If it doesn't, get in touch with me at Mac's Bar downtown. That's where I'll be for a while. If it doesn't 'take,' call me. I'll come back."

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with lust. "John, don't leave me, please. Lie back down and love me nice."

He glared at her. "I've been paid for one performance, not two. Next time, in case it's needed, it'll cost you two thousand. Good-bye."

"John," she called to him as he stalked to the door, yanking it open. "Please don't go."

He walked to his room, stripped off the hated clothing belonging to Keith Ainsworth, found his own and put it on. He had one more drink from the bottle, ran down the stairs, entered the music room looking for the check. He received a shock. The check was missing. He looked everywhere for it.

"Joan took it," he said aloud. "Damn her!"

He turned around and went back up the stairs. He entered her room, walked to the foot of the bed. "Your niece stole my check," he said, putting it harshly and unfairly because he was angry. "I'll need some money."

"In the dresser drawer over there," she said quietly, pointing.

He strode to the dresser, yanked open the top left-hand drawer. By chance, it was the correct one. He grabbed up a small stack of bills, counted it. There was about two hundred dollars. He shoved it in his pocket, turned and walked to the bed, looked down at her.

"Two hundred," he said bitterly, "on account."

"John," she said softly. "Please ... I don't know why you are so enraged, but don't go."

"Why shouldn't I go?" he said. "I've done my job as far as anyone can tell at this point."

She sat up, her shoulder strap falling again. "I guess you have a right to be angry, John. You like my niece a lot, don't you?"

He looked at her. "She's okay. I'm not crazy about her."

"Good," she said, and lay back down. "She's not the type for you, John, believe me. All she thinks of is money."

He thought, You're a fine one to be talking about that, but he said nothing about it.

She looked at him lustfully again. "I'm very lonely, John."

"I just got through," he said, interpreting her remark correctly, he thought.

"But you just went through the motions. I want you to ... love me, John, really love me."

He drew in his breath. "All right," he said. "II do my best."

"Thank you, John. I don't mean ... love me ... in the usual sense ... I mean...." She looked at him suggestively, pulled up her nightgown, baring her legs.

"You want me to be a pimp. Is that your proposition?"

"I wouldn't call it that, John."

"What would you call it?"

"I call it love, John." She wriggled her hips.

He looked at her again. Her eyes are full of lust, he thought. This woman is ready for anything. "All right," he said. "I'll do it on one condition."

"What is the condition?" she asked, breathing hard now.

"That you ... go ... first, Mrs. Ainsworth."

She smiled nervously. "But that-"

"You heard me, Mrs. Ainsworth. You go first and then I'll-"

"You promise, John."

"I just told you, didn't I?"

Her eyes were narrow now, but he could still see the wanton lust in them. Something wild happened to him. He was no longer angry. He forgot about Joan. For the time being she did not exist.

"Lie down, John," she urged him.

He thought hard for a moment, yanked off his clothing, lay down beside her. "I'm cutting out of here when this is over and done with," he told her.

"All right, John," she said, breathing very hard. "You'll have to do as you wish, of course. You're a man-" Her voice trailed off.

He drew in his breath. "You may commence, Mrs. Ainsworth," he told her.

She sucked in her breath audibly. "I've never done this-" Again she broke off.

"There's a first time for everything, Mrs. Ainsworth. Get on with it."

She did.

Later, he left the place, walked all the way downtown to Mac's Bar, proceeded to get very drunk.