The car slowed and stopped. It was a Buick. A man got out and read the name on the mail box and then walked up to the house.
I had been working upstairs by the window, and when I saw the man coming up the walk I started down. He was raising the knocker when I opened the door. He was no one I had ever seen, and the car had out of state plates. We stood in the doorway looking at each other.
He said his name.
It was Ruth's name.
“Come in,” I said.
I took him into the front room and we sat down. He looked around the room. “Are you her husband?” he said. “No.”
“Have a cigar,” he said.
I took the cigar and laid it on the table. I do not like cigars very much, and it is not very often that I really like the men who smoke them.
“I understand that you're a writer,” he said. “The people in the village mentioned it.”
“Yes,” I said. “What are you?”
He swore, and threw the cigar he had just lighted.
“Fine,” I said. “I can see that we are going to get along fine. I'd offer you a drink, but it's pretty nice Scotch, and I don't like it to be thrown away.”
I handed back the cigar he had just given me.
“Are you her father?” I said.
“Yes.”
“Have a drink.”
I put the bottle on the table where it would be handy for either of us if the going got too bad. We drank.
“You understand my position,” he said.
“I understand that it isn't everything that might be desired.”
“Perhaps I shouldn't have come,” he said.
“I think she'll be glad to see you.”
“Do you mean that?” he said. “Do you?”
“I guess so,” I said.
“Is she here with you now?”
“She's around someplace.”
“I suppose that I'm not in a position to tell you-improper-all that sort of thing-”.
“You certainly are not,” I said.
I was beginning to feel better toward him. He was acting the way I might have acted if I had been in the spot that he was in.
“Do you think that she will be glad to see me?” he said. “I haven't been much of a father, as you probably know all too goddamned well.”
“Well, you might have done better,” I said, “but I guess she'll want to see what you're like, if for no other reason than that you were such a stinker of an old man.”
“I won't stay a minute if she doesn't want me to. I'll let her think that I was just going through this way.”
“Weren't you?” I said.
“I'm trying to be reasonable about this,” he said. “It wasn't easy to come here.”
“Then why did you?” was what came to my mind, but I didn't say it, and I poured us both another Scotch. I looked at him and wondered what kind of a man he would be when you got to know him. I knew that he wasn't showing up well just then. And I kept wondering what his business was. He acted like someone who has been around and knows what it is all about.
I heard a door open.
“You still have time to be just another insurance man.”
He gave me a dirty look for that. Ruth and Jane came into the room together. He looked at them and then at me. I nodded toward Ruth.
“The tall one,” I said.
He and Ruth stood looking at each other. I knew that whatever he said now would sound silly as all hell, and it did.
“Ruth,” he said, “I am your father.”
She studied his face.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I guess you are my father. I'm glad to see you.”
Jane turned and walked out of the room. I remember that well: how she just turned and went out then. I picked up my drink and started to go.
“You don't have to go,” Ruth said. “I don't have anything to say to him that you can't hear. I don't have anything at all to say.”
“That's just the idea,” I said.
Jane was in the kitchen. I took her arm and led her to the door.
“Didn't she know her father?” she said.
“No.”
“I wouldn't want to have my father turn up like that, would you?”
“No, I wouldn't. My father has been dead for ten years.”
Jane and I went outside. To hell with the slow approach I thought. I wanted to lay the girl.
“Would you like to go out to the barn and climb into the hay loft with me and be fucked?” I asked her.
“I would like to do that,” she said.
I expected, while we were there in the barn, that we would hear the engine of the Buick start pretty soon, but that did not happen. And when it did not happen right away I stopped listening for it.
Jane rolled on the hay and lifted her dress and showed herself to me. First she pulled her dress up in front and showed me her smooth belly and the triangular cut of hair, and then she turned and pulled the back of her dress up. Her ass had a tiny mole on one cheek. I had not seen that before. I kissed it. She was very warm and very soft.
Because the hay pricked us we spread all of our clothes out and lay on them. Jane sat up after being in my arms for an instant, and she put her hand on my prick and held it while she was speaking.
“Mrs.-Ruth told me that I shouldn't feel the way I did about last night,” she said. “I mean what happened in the car. She said that men always shoot in her mouth when she sucks them, and that they like to have it done that way. Do they like very much to have it done that way?”
“Yes,” I said. “Very much.”
The girl smoothed my prick with the tips of her fingers and then she held it tighter. The tip commenced to flow.
“And she said that after a time or two a girl gets to like the taste and wants to do it that way as much as the man does, and that she can want to French a man as much as to be jazzed. Is that right?”
“I think it happens that way sometimes.”
Bending forward with her tits swinging free of her body she put her face to my cock. But at the last minute, just when it seemed about to be touched by her lips, she turned her head and slid it along her cheek and kissed me on my belly.
“It could have been because I did not expect it,” she said. “I hadn't thought that anything like that might happen, and that might be why I didn't like it, and if I knew that it was going to happen and was ready for it, then I might like it.”
She rolled my prick between her hand and her face.
“If you did it I might like it,” she said.
I turned to one side, turning her with me, and I kissed her belly and then I opened her legs and looked at what was between them. I plunged for her cunt and glued my mouth to it.
Jane said something, but I could not hear her clearly, for at that moment her legs were tight-pressed to my heart and into her cunt. I found it tight, and my tongue entered like a wedge, spreading it and slipping in. Her hair prickled my lips.
She opened her legs, and her cunt opened slightly with them, and I curved my tongue around it, through the shallow places and into the hot hole. Jane pushed me away.
“Stand up in front of me,” she said, “and tell me to French you. Tell me to obey-make me!”
When she stood up I stood up with her.
“Tell me to obey or you'll kill me,” she said.
“Get back on your knees,” I said. “My prick is going into your mouth.”
Jane hunched her shoulders and looked at my cock, and for a single moment I felt that it was too real with her, and that she felt too much the words she wanted me to say.
“Or else,” I added, “I'll add you to tomorrow's soup.”
“Say it again. Say it to me the way a man would say it to a woman he didn't really like but was screwing because she was afraid of him and had to do what he said.”
“Say, what is this?” I asked her.
She laughed, and she quickly dropped to her knees, then caught my cock and looked up at me.
“I was only fooling,” she said.
“You'd damn well better have been fooling.”
Jane touched my prick with her nose and then with her lips. It was good to feel her lips on my prick, and they were warm and moist. They were easy to go into, and I gave my cock to her as fast as she was willing to take it. I leaned against the wall of the barn and she knelt with her knees half buried in the hay and her toes out and the soles of her feet pink and wrinkled. When Jane pulled her mouth away again my prick was wet, and the redness of the tip was not because of lipstick.
“I can do it,” she said. “All that was wrong was that I was not expecting him to shoot, so if you tell me you're going to shoot I can take it and I won't mind a bit.”
“Do you want me to shoot in your mouth?”
“Yes,” she said. “Shoot in my mouth while I am sucking you. Please do it.”
“And will you promise to swallow it and keep sucking and not try to get away? Because it would spoil it if you didn't do it just that way.”
“I won't try to get away,” she said. “I'll suck it and swallow the stuff when you shoot.”
They have to learn some time. I have known some girls who could never learn to go down on a man and stay there until he had hauled his ashes, and then I have known some who took to it as naturally as they took to breathing, but all of them had to learn some time whether or not they were able to do it. I stuck my prick in Jane's mouth and hoped for the best.
She squeezed with her lips, and her tongue shot around in her mouth, over and under my cock. At the beginning she was sucking so lightly that I couldn't really be certain that she was sucking at all, because she seemed to think that my prick was very tender and might get hurt. But soon my prick was as hard as a steel bar, and she worked harder on it then. She became excited, too, and it was nice to feel her tear into it and know that she was feeling the things she showed and wasn't just playing to the stands.
Just to tease her I jerked my cock away from her. I dangled it in front of her mouth, and she opened her lips and reached for it with teeth bared, but I wouldn't let her have it. She didn't use her hands, but just followed it with her mouth, and she was furiously anxious to get it back. I pressed it against her throat like a stiletto.
“You can have it when you've kissed it,” I said. “But just kiss it, or I'll take it away from you again, and you won't get it back.”
Very meekly, and almost chastely, she put her lips on the end and gave it several little pecks. Then I thrust it into her mouth.
She sucked just the end of it. Her tongue went around and around, and then her head took up the same motion. I stopped her.
“You'll make yourself dizzy,” I said.
“I'm beginning to know more about it already,” she said. “You're going to shoot pretty soon, aren't you?”
I said yes, pretty soon.
“I knew it,” she said. “See, I'm getting smart about this! I'll make it nice for you.”
She held my prick in her two hands and made small circles, rubbed the end inside the ring of her lips. But I pushed it past that ring and jerked my hips. I was ready to give it to her, and I wanted to be sure that she was ready for it as much as I was, so I asked her if she still wanted me to shoot or if she wanted me to call it off.
She almost choked herself trying to show her willingness to do it right.
In a minute more I shot, and just as she said she was going to, she swallowed it. She made a queer gurgling noise and kept at it until I had to tell her to stop.
“That's all,” I said.
I threw myself down with her. She moved her tongue around her mouth and swallowed several times in succession, like someone with a hair caught in his throat. She looked down to where the car was and where the sun was pouring in the door. The sun was coming in the sides of the barn, through the joints and cracks, and light dust glinted in the strips of color.
“It stays in my mouth,” she said. “It will be gone in a minute.” I did not ask her if she liked it or not. I waited to see what she would tell me.
“If a girl goes down on men and swallows jism and likes to have them shoot in her mouth, does that make her any different from anybody else?” she said.
I didn't know what she was driving at. “Can men tell that a girl is like that if they see her walking down the street? Does it do anything to her to make her different?” I told her that it didn't.
“That boy last night tried to tell me that he knew just by looking at me that I was a cocksucker. I didn't think that there could be any way of telling, but he pretended that he could tell.”
That's bull,” I said. “All that a man can tell by looking at a woman is that he'd like to screw her or have her suck him off. The rest is all bullshit.”
Jane stopped swallowing and looked at my prick. It was small and red and wrinkled, and it clung between my thighs like something trying to hide, something that had a shame.
“Still, it's a nice thing to believe,” she said. “I think I might like to have all the men I passed know that I was a girl who sucked men off, and might suck them off too if they were very nice to me.
“If that's all you want, it shouldn't be hard to get it in this place. Nine-tenths of the male population in a ten mile radius ought to know by now that you were laid behind a log pile, felt up in the movies, and given a mouthful of prick in the car last night.”
“That's hateful-men who tell about a girl that way. But it would be nice if there was something in the way a girl walked after that was done to her — something proud, to let people know that she had done it.”
“I see,” I said. I had a hard time following her when she talked that way.
The swallows with yellow breasts flashed in and out of the barn, diving for the nests of hard mud and then zooming out to the fields again.
“I'm not ashamed of anything,” Jane said. “I'm proud. Isn't that the way to be?”
“Yes,” I said. “That's the way to be.”
“Every man in the world should be able to screw me,” she said. “Any man who liked me ought to be able to come to me and take me off with him. I think that's what a woman should be for.”
She leaned back on a joist and spread her legs. She patted her belly and made different sounds by patting herself and tightening her muscles, and then she pushed her fingers through her hair and touched her cunt.
“I used to do that a lot,” she said.
Her fingers dug for her cunt, and she raised her hips to show me how she had them stuck into her cunt and then she pulled them out.
“I won't have time to do that anymore,” she said, because it will always have a cock in it, and I won't ever be alone at night. I don't like to be alone at night. I'm still afraid of the dark.”
I put my fingers over her cunt, and then I poked one of them into it, and Jane slid down to make it easier for me to do. It was all like something that should have happened to me when I was a kid, and I knew that I was not going to forget that afternoon, whether I wanted to remember it later or not. And I didn't. I remember it all, everything, just as it was and just as it happened.
“I know it's not something I should ask,” she said, “but if Ruth knew that I was afraid to be alone at night do you think she would let me sleep somewhere in your room? I know it's an awful thing to ask.”
“What is it that you're afraid of?”
“I don't know. Forget that I said that. I didn't say it,” she said.
Ruth liked the girl enough to have slept in the bath tub and let her in bed with me. I knew that. She had told me often enough how much she liked her. I told Jane that we would fix it up some way.
“Why do you look like that?” Jane asked.
“I just lost a thousand years in the hay.”
Jane cocked her head to one side.
“I was ten thousand years old when we came in here,” I said. “Now it's only nine thousand.”
A man has to have something to believe in, and it might as well be something like Jane. I didn't try to explain that.
I dropped my head onto her lap. I kissed her thighs, her belly, and her cunt. I wormed my way between her legs and sought her cunt with my lips and tongue, and then I lay and licked her and sucked her until she became excited and flung herself over me.
“When you were doing that before I wished that it was your prick. But now I'm glad that it's your tongue. I thought that people Frenched pretending that a man's tongue was a prick and the woman's mouth a cunt, but there is more than that to having someone's mouth sucking and licking.”
I was glad to be down on her; as glad as I had ever been to have a cunt shoved in my face. I ravished her with my tongue and sucked her roughly.
“Oh, I wish that I could shoot like a man!” she cried. “I want to fill your mouth with something sudden and thick, like your jism, and know that it comes from me and watch you swallow it, make it part of you, like the jism you made is part of me now! I want something of me to be part of you.”
I jabbed my fingers into her cunt, and when I had shown them to her, shown her how they dripped, I put them into my mouth. I dove at her cunt again, and as my tongue shot in Jane scissored her legs around my head and squeezed until I felt myself smothering. My sight darkened, and the hay seemed to sink rapidly beneath me, falling away too fast for my body to follow, and in the buzzing that filled my ears I lost everything but the clear cry of her voice. I dangled in space, clinging to a thread of consciousness. Then the pressure was released, and I climbed back to the world.
Jane got to her knees and supported herself against a rafter. I knew that she did not realize how violent she had been. Now she was hardly able to stand, and when she took a step forward she tripped in the uneven hay and sprawled beside me. I pulled her soft body into my arms.
“I have to make supper,” she said at last.
I didn't want to let her go.
“To hell with supper. No one wants supper,” I said.
“Ruth's father will want some.”
“That bastard can wait.”
I had forgotten about him. I let Jane go, and letting her go made me very sore at Ruth's father, because if it hadn't been for him I could have stayed there with her all night. Just then I had forgotten that part of the money that Ruth and I were living on there had come from him, and it burnt me up to have him walking in on us that way.
Jane dressed quickly, and then she waited for me to dress. I was deliberately taking a long time to get my clothes on, but Jane waited. It reminded me of those people who risk their lives dashing across the street in front of traffic and then spend the few seconds they saved waiting for you to cross.
Jane looked in my pocket for my comb and combed the seeds and the broken straws out of my hair. We climbed out of the hayloft and went back to the house. The Buick was still standing out front. Most of the people I know who own Buicks are crooked politicians or proprietors of whore houses, and I wondered which of those Ruth's father was. I strolled down by the car, and when I saw the glass in one of the windows that was partly down I strolled back again. That glass was almost an inch thick, and they don't make it that way to keep the mosquitoes out or because it's any easier to see through.
I went into the house, and Ruth was in the front room with her father and when I entered the room he was lighting a cigar.
“Bill,” Ruth said, “I have asked my father to stay here with us for a while. That's all right with you, isn't it?”
“That's fine,” I said.
It would take Ruth to do it just that way. She could run off and five with a bunch of fairies, go on a trip to Mexico with a man she had met two hours before, not even leaving a note when she went to Toby and leaving me standing on a corner to meet her for dinner when she was getting on the train for the Mexican trip, but when she had asked her father to stay on a while she turned to me and asked if it was all right.
“I'll run the car up into the drive,” said Ruth's father.
I wondered how long a while was.
“What do you think of him?”
We stood by the window watching the Buick turn slowly in the narrow road and swing into the drive.
“What do I think of him?” I said. “What the hell can I think of him? It was you who talked to him.”
“His name is Jackson,” she said. “I mean, that's the name he's been using. I think we ought to call him that too. I think that's what he wants. He hinted at it.”
“All right, his name is Jackson. What's his racket? What does he do?”
“I didn't find that out,” Ruth said.
“It isn't our affair anyway.”
Ruth moved away from the window. She sat down and pushed a soggy cigar around in the ashtray with a match.
“It's awfully queer, having him show up this way. I think I liked it better when I didn't know him.”
“If you don't like him you don't have to have him around,” I said. “He'd go away if he thought you didn't want him around. I know that.”
“It isn't that, she said. “It isn't that I don't like him. Only, now that he's real, I can't have my dream any more.”
“Did you expect him to be something different from what he is?”
“That isn't exactly it either. It's like visiting Niagara Falls. If you know what I mean.”
“I wouldn't call him a disappointment.”
“He's coming back.”
Jackson had his coat over his shoulder and was carrying a couple of good looking leather bags. He stood holding them and looked in the doorway. Ruth got up.
“Bill, will you show my father the bedrooms? I want to help Jane.”
She went out of the room. I took one of the bags, and Jackson and I went upstairs.
“There are three empty,” I said. I don't suppose it matters which one you use.”
We went into the first one we came to. “This one looks all right,” said Jackson. “I guess it's all right.”
“Wait a minute,” he said. “Don't go yet. I'd like to talk to you.”
I sat on the bed and watched him opening drawers and closing them and putting things away. He moved with a quick, springy step, and it wasn't hard to imagine him on a tennis court or in a gymnasium.
“I want to talk to you,” he said.
“You said that.”
He hung his coat over a chair and took off his tie and started to unbutton his shirt. Then he seemed to remember something, and he went to one of the bags and got an odd shaped bottle out of it.
“I don't know whether I should admit it or not,” he said. “Personally, I like vodka.”
He had some paper cups in his bag, and we drank the vodka from them. Jackson set his cup on the dresser and took off his shirt. He waved a handkerchief under his arms.
“That was a hot drive today,” he said.
“I think there's time for a shower,” I said. “I'll get you some towels.”
“Wait just a minute.”
He put on slippers and a robe and followed me. I got the towels and went into the bathroom with him. I turned down the toilet seat and sat there with the bottle of vodka and the cups and we shouted to each other over the noise of the shower.
“She's a remarkable girl, isn't she?”
I said yes, she was remarkable, and I poured myself some more of the vodka. Jackson was lathering himself and being careful not to get soap into his hair or to get his hair any more wet than he absolutely had to.
“Where did you meet her?” he asked me.
What he meant was where did a heel like me happen to meet a nice girl. That was all right. Tell him.
“In a whore house.”
The soap rattled around in the tub and finally stopped. Jackson shut off the shower and sat on the wall seat.
“What the hell was she doing in a whore house?” he said.
“It was a pretty good whore house. I played the piano there, with a glass of beer on top and the cigarette burns on the bass keys, and everything but the derby hat.”
“God damn it!” he said. “I don't care what you were doing there. What was she doing there?”
“She was learning all about life. She wanted to see what a whore house was like, and some boys she was with took her there to show her. Princeton boys. It was really a high class place.”
Jackson swore and turned the shower back on. He washed all of the soap away and then covered himself with it again.
“Do you think it's all right?” he said. “My staying here, I mean?”
“It's all right with me. I guess you're doing O.K.”
“She didn't say anything? Because if I thought she didn't want me to stay, I'd go now.”
“Do you want some of this?” I asked.
Jackson drank with the water running down his back and over his shoulders, and when he had finished the liquor he held his cup under the shower for a chaser.
“I suppose you're wondering who I am,” he said. “What I do, and why I haven't showed up all this time and so on.”
“I haven't said so.”
The water of the shower was pretty cold by now, and Jackson was slowly turning pink all over, but he acted as though he was used to it.
“If I wondered anything,” I said, “it was why you decided to show up at all. Or, for that matter, why you pay any attention to her.”
“Yes,” he said. “Well, do you suppose it would make any difference to her what I happened to be? Would it matter to her if I were-oh, say, a safe cracker?”
“That sounds pretty childish,” I said. “Are you a safe cracker?”
“No. Is there any more vodka?”
When he got out of the shower and started to dry himself I saw his back and the three marks on it. They were white, and they looked as though the skin had been pulled up and knotted at those places. Jackson glanced over his shoulder and saw me looking at him.
“One of them is still in me,” he said. “They were afraid to operate because it was so close to the heart. I can tell when it's going to rain.”
Then he showed me the spot under his arm where one of the bullets had come out. There was a hole big enough to put your thumb into.
“Isn't that a hell of a place to have them? In your back?” he said. “I always have to explain how they happened to get there. It was an accident.”
“Some accident,” I said. “Three of them.”
“It was Berlin. One of the boys got a little crazy when we weren't sent home after the war was over. A lot of the men didn't like that job, you know. I happened to be an officer, and that's how it happened.”
“How did it really happen?” I said. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.”
Jackson pretended that he couldn't hear me over the noise of the shower that was still running. He turned off the water and we went back to the bedroom and he put what was left of the vodka away in one of the drawers.
“There's something I want to ask you.”
“I'm still here,” I said.
“If she says anything about me. If it sounds as though she wanted me to get out I want you to tell me about it as soon as it happens.”
“That's easy enough,” I said.
“There's something else, too.” He got a black tin box out of one of his bags and stood holding it. “God damn it,” he said, “How do I know you're all right?”
“You don't,” I said. “I'm not asking you to think I'm all right.”
“I guess I'll have to do it,” he said. “I don't see any other way to do it.”
He threw the box on the bed beside me. “Stick that up your ass or in the attic or anyplace,” he said. “I may want it when I go. But if something happens so that I have to leave suddenly, I want you to give it to her. It doesn't have any key.”
“Do you think they'll find you up here?” I said. “They must want you awfully bad.”
“What do you mean?” Jackson said.
“I don't mean anything. Not a thing.”
“I'm not in trouble with the police, if that's what you're thinking.”
I wasn't thinking about the police. I was thinking about those scars on his back and the windows of the Buick. But I didn't say that.
“I'll get rid of this now,” I said.
I left Jackson to finish dressing and I went up in the attic and hunted around until I found a place that the box fitted pretty well and then I came back down again. He wasn't in the bedroom, so I went on downstairs and he was out in the front yard looking down over the meadow and stooping sometimes to pick a stone off the grass and throw it across the road. I went out to tell him when it was time to come in and eat.
Jackson talked a lot during the meal, and from what he said he must have had a lot happen to him during the years that Ruth was growing up. He said that he had been a music publisher and a contractor, among other things, but somehow I got the impression that Jackson had been none of those things he mentioned for any longer than he had to. Most of the things he spoke about sounded vaguely like promotion schemes of one kind or another.
Jane caught his eye, too, and he was careful to be very nice to her, but it wasn't easy to tell whether she liked him or not. She answered all of his questions, but she didn't volunteer any information about herself, and it seemed to me that she was just a trifle stiff with him.
Ruth listened to everything that he had to say, but she seldom asked him a question, and she never asked him about something that he hadn't already brought up himself. When the meal was over she got me to one side while Jackson was playing at domesticity by helping Jane clear the table.
“There's one thing I'd like to know about him,” she said. “Do you suppose he's married again? I'm afraid to ask?”
“I'm pretty sure he's not married,” I said. “He'd have said something about it to me.”
“What did he talk to you about?”
“Nothing. He showed me the bullet wounds he got in the war.”
“He likes Jane. I hope he doesn't make a mess of that. You know, he seems all right.”
I said I had some work to do, and I went upstairs and after a while I saw Jackson and Ruth walking together outside. It had just grown dark enough for me to have the light on while I worked when Ruth came up and said that her father had suggested that we go out someplace.
“Why don't you go with him?” I said. “You haven't said anything to each other yet. Jane and I can keep each other company.”
“I want you to come,” she said. “We'll take Jane too. I suggested that road house they advertise on the radio. I don't think Jane was ever in a place like that.”
So she went to tell Jane and I changed my clothes and went downstairs to find Jackson sitting on the steps of the front porch. I sat down with him and he offered me a cigar that I didn't want and we watched the fireflies coming out in the grass and we talked about the city of Baltimore until Ruth and Jane came out.
The Buick had been souped up plenty. If you knew anything at all about cars you couldn't help noticing it. Jackson watched me out of the corner of his eye to see if I knew about it.
“Why didn't you have them put wings on it too?” I said to him. “What will it do?”
“I don't know,” he said. “They wouldn't test it for me, and I've never had a chance to find out.”
It was a forty mile drive to the place where we were going, but it didn't seem like that or anything like it. The road was clear almost all the way and Jackson drove it as though he went over it every day. Once we ran into what looked like trouble when we met a car that was passing a truck on a hairpin. Jackson took the shoulder to get out of the way, and I didn't think we'd get around the second turn after that, but he kicked the car into a wide skid that brought us around as cleanly as I've ever seen it done.
“I suppose you learned to do that in the contracting business?” I asked him.
“What do you mean?” he said.
“Listen,” I said, “I learned that sort of stuff when I was in another business.”
When I was a high school punk I was doing an eighty mile run every night, with a pocket full of tacks and the rear brakes of the car set so that anybody who got too close was lucky if he just went into the ditch. And I knew that you don't learn to drive the way Jackson did in driving school.
“Do you mean you ran moonshine?” Jackson asked. “A bright young fellow like you?”
He said “hmmmph,” and we didn't say anymore about that, and after a while we got to this place that was called the Silver Slipper.
Jane, as I said, had never been in a place like that before, and she found it all very exciting. Jackson said that every girl of her age should have drunk champagne, and so that was what we drank all evening. The show they put on there was pretty bad, and we had arrived just at the beginning of it, but Jane liked it so much that we all pretended to think it was fine. I think that, more than having a good time ourselves, we were all interested in seeing that Jane enjoyed herself. When the show was over I danced with Jane and Ruth danced with her father and then Ruth and I danced and Jackson and Jane went on the floor together.
“He's a good-looking man, isn't he?” Ruth asked. “He doesn't look very much older than you do. Not old enough to be my father.”
“I guess he takes pretty good care of himself,” I said.
“Why do you say it like that? You act as though you thought he was a gunman.”
“I didn't say he was a gunman. I don't know what he is. He hasn't told me.”
“Whatever he is, I'll bet he's good at it. They look good dancing together.”
I glanced over at them. Jane was wearing one of Ruth's dresses that was not a very good dress for her as far as the color went and that did not show off her shape the way it would have Ruth's, but it wasn't bad, and it was cut low enough so that when we were sitting at the table the front of it practically shouted that she was wearing nothing beneath it. She was dancing very close to Jackson in a way that was just on the borderline of propriety.
“By the way,” I said, “Jane asked if she could sleep in our room tonight. She seems to get spooked up at night. I don't suppose she can with him here, though.”
“Do you think I'm going to let that change anything? If he doesn't like the way I do things he can go on back to wherever he came from.”
“I thought you two got along all right.”
“We do, so far. But it's a little late for me to commence playing the dutiful daughter, don't you think?”
When that dance was over Ruth took Jane's arm and they walked to the door marked “Powder Room,” and Jackson started to talk about Jane. What he really wanted to know was whether or not she was a lay, and, more particularly, if she would let him screw her, but he couldn't get around to saying what he meant. I strung him along, partly because I didn't know the answer to at least half of what he wanted to know, and he finally caught on to the fact that I was pulling his leg and shut up about Jane.
“That boy's a nice drummer,” he said next.
Jackson surprised me that time. The kid was pretty good, but I was surprised that a man like Jackson should recognize it, because he was just quietly lifting the band stud he wasn't throwing his sticks into the air or doing any of the other absurd things that people like to see.
“Do you like that stuff?” I said. “That music?”
“I was a booker for a while. That was in Albany.”
“Wait a minute.”
I went up to the stand and waited until the band had finished the set. What they were playing was very noisy and over-arranged, and when it was over everybody on the floor applauded and some of the youngsters of the kind who run the smart columns on the college papers whistled.
“Jesus, that number stinks,” said the nearest sax man.
The fellow who ran the band half stood at his piano seat and bowed at the people and moved his lips. The whistling grew louder.
“You lousy bastards,” the leader said very pleasantly and quietly. “Oh, you dirty lousy bastards.”
I went up to him and told him what I wanted.
“I don't know,” he said. “The last man we let on the stand turned out to be an escaped lunatic and put a hole in our drum. That kind of stuff doesn't look so good for us.”
But he let me sit in at the piano for the next set, and when the three numbers were over he asked me to come around and sit in with them when they were through work if I wanted to. I went back to Jackson, and Jane and Ruth were back with him then.
“If you can play like that, why in the devil do you want to write?” Jackson said.
“I like to feel that I can go to bed early if I want to,” I said. “And you can always pawn a typewriter. Did you ever try to raise some money on a piano?”
Ruth had evidently said something to Jane when they were out, because Jane was careful not to drink much, and every time that Jackson turned to fill her glass she had most of her drink left, and so we were all fairly sober when we left the road house.
Jackson drove slower on the way back to the farm, and it was late when we got in. We had what he called a night-cap, and he tried to maneuver Jane aside for a few minutes, but he gave that up in a little while and said that he guessed he'd go to bed. Jane said good night and went into her room and Ruth and I went upstairs to our room. I wondered how he felt about seeing us go off to bed together like that. Ruth said it didn't matter how he felt.
“He's taken more than one father's daughter to bed himself,” she said.
She pulled her dress over her head and sat on the bed in her pants and stockings.
“He'd like to put the works to Jane too,” she said. “He kept trying to get his hand up her dress all evening, and the best he could manage was her knee.”
“He knows something good when he sees it,” I said.
Ruth hung one leg over the edge of the bed and swung it back and forth, working at it. I looked at it too. I never got tired of looking at her legs, or any part of her.
“What do you suppose he thinks of me?” she said. “After all, he can hardly think of me as any other man would think of his daughter. And I'm not hard to look at. I noticed him a couple of times tonight when we were dancing trying to-well, trying to get close to me without letting me notice. Do you think he feels that way about me?”
“My god,” I said, “isn't your own father safe from you? What do you want, anyway?”
“I didn't say anything. I was just telling you what I noticed. And you couldn't blame him, after all, because it isn't as though we had always been together and he had seen me grow up and all that.”
She dropped back on the bed and lifted first one leg and then the other and took off her stockings. She held her legs up stiffly and sighted along them at her toes.
“It would be rather amusing to be screwed by your father I suppose,” she said. “I imagine that it would complete the cycle, somehow, to have shot into your cunt the same jism that you grew from. He doesn't wear a supporting belt or a corset, does he? I mean, is that figure all real?”
Someone tapped very lightly at the door. Ruth covered herself with something. Jane came in.
“I brought back your dress,” she said.
She was wearing some pajamas that Ruth had given her. They were too long and had been turned up at the ankles. Ruth pushed the cover from herself.
“Come here, Jane,” she said. “Did Mr. Jackson see you coming in here?”
“No. I was very quiet.”
“That's good. Because this bed won't hold four, and if he saw you come in he'd probably be in after you. If you had been in the front seat with him coming home, the way he tried to fix it, he'd probably have had you sitting on his lap with his tail up your ass.”
“I'm sorry,” said Jane. “I tried to keep you from seeing what he was doing at the place because he's your father, but I was afraid that if I let him go ahead and do it someone else would see.”
“Throw those things over the chair and come sit with me,” Ruth said. “So you were afraid someone else might see! Is that the only reason that you didn't let him feel you up?”
“Well-” said Jane.
“So you'd like to have him feel you up? Here, don't go away. I was just wondering. Let me open the top of this thing.”
She unbuttoned the pajama blouse in two or three places and slid her hand in. She held Jane in her arms and petted her until she was quiet.
“It would be strange if you didn't want him to feel you up,” Ruth said. “Don't you think it would be strange, Jane, if a girl didn't want any man to feel her up?”
“I–I guess so. He's nice. He smiles nice.”
“If he stays here there'll be times when you'll be alone in the house with him. And if he came into the room where you were then and tried to lift your dress, you'd let him, wouldn't you? Wouldn't you, you little cunt?”
Jane did not say anything. She nodded. Ruth opened the rest of the buttons of the pajama blouse and pushed it away from the girl's tits. She held one in her hand while she spoke.
“He'd open your clothes and put his hands on you and play with you until you were so hot that you wouldn't mind at all if he took your hand and put it in his pants, on his belly-like this-, and pushed it down until you felt his hair under it, and then something else that was big and stiff and wet where you touched the end of it. It would be strange if you didn't like that, wouldn't it?”
“Yes,” said Jane.
Her voice caught on the word. She groped about under Ruth's pants and closed her eyes. Ruth had the pajamas slung halfway down from Jane's hips. She stroked the girl's panting belly and got her fingers into her little cunt.
“His fingers would touch your cunt,” said Ruth, “and then go in, while you held his prick. And then you'd want him to screw you. It wouldn't matter that it was my father. You'd want to be laid, no matter who he was, and if he showed you that he wanted it you'd go down on him and be glad to.”
“Oh let me go now!” Jane cried.
She tried to leap from the bed. Ruth held her and tore the pajamas off and threw them down.
“Not tonight,” Ruth said. “There'll be time enough again to have him jazz you.”
She fell over the girl and spread her legs around her slim waist. She rubbed her cunt against the girl's belly until Jane was quiet.
“Jane,” she said, “what if you saw him trying to lift my dress? What would you think I should do about it? Would it make any difference that he happened to be my father?”
“Why do you ask me about things like that?” said Jane. “You know about them. I don't.”
“Then we'll do something you do know about.”
Ruth began kissing Jane, and she kissed her down to her toes and then up along the inner thighs of her legs. She licked Jane's thighs and put her tongue out and touched her cunt with it. Jane twisted and spread her legs slowly.
“I'm going to steal you,” Ruth said. “We'll run off to an island with the hundred best books and a jack knife and spend our days climbing for coconuts and Frenching each other.”
“Just us?” asked Jane. “I'd rather take a man too. To climb for the coconuts.”
She pushed her cunt onto Ruth's mouth and moved it back and forth. Ruth dug her tongue into it and looked across Jane's thigh at me and winked. I walked across the room and sat on the bed. I still had on my shorts, but they weren't hiding much now.
“We can get along very well without that,” Ruth said. “Why don't you have it mounted?”
“I've seen you try to get along without this before.”
I bent over to look at Jane's cunt. It was dark, now that Ruth had been sucking it, and it looked very deep and hot. I opened it and looked at Ruth. She smiled, and then she puckered her lips and shoved her mouth into Jane's cunt while I held it open. I pinched the lips of Jane's cunt up over Ruth's mouth. She sucked hard and there wasn't any kidding about it. She liked it.
“I wish,” Ruth said after a minute, “that I could believe there was something else as nice as this that I haven't tried yet. I'd have something to look forward to.”
Jane reached for my prick and tore my shorts trying to get her hand on it. I pulled them off and then she tried to twist her head around and stick it into her mouth. Ruth stopped Frenching her and pulled her away from me.
“There's something else we ought to do,” she said. “We'll keep it a secret.”
She whispered into the girl's ear. Jane looked doubtful, but finally she nodded her head, and then Ruth pulled her over to the side of the bed. Jane turned onto her belly and let her feet hang over to the floor and Ruth slid slowly off the bed and onto her knees behind Jane, letting her hands, with the fingers spread wide, slip down the girl's back until they were on her ass. She squeezed the cheeks up in her fists, feeling for the muscle under the fatty part, and she kissed them several times and every time that she kissed Jane's ass the girl would jump a little.
When Ruth stopped kissing her, Jane wiggled her ass and looked around to see why she had stopped.
Ruth had slipped lower and was looking at Jane's cunt. The moisture had all run to the bottom of the hairy slit and a drop was trembling, ready to fall. Ruth stuck her tongue out suddenly and ran it up through Jane's cunt. She held Jane's legs apart with her arms wide, seeming about to split the girl up through the middle, and she licked her cunt and the hairy places around her cunt until I was squirming almost as much as Jane. She licked up closer to Jane's ass hole, coming closer very slowly and looking up at me every time her tongue stabbed out at the girl.
Her tongue stuck on Jane's ass hole. She wriggled it. The girl's fingers clutched the bed and twisted the covers. Ruth's face half disappeared into Jane's can and her throat moved. Her hair fell over to hide what she was doing with her mouth, but the noises she made were enough.
The minutes ticked by while Ruth knelt there sucking the girl's ass.
I heard a noise in the hall. I turned my head to hear it better, and Ruth stopped.
It was Jackson, and he was trying to move quietly in the unfamiliar darkness. We heard him going down the stairs.
“He's going to be surprised when he finds you're not in your room,” Ruth told Jane.
She got up and turned off the lights. There were two windows that the moon shone through, and when our eyes got accustomed to that light we could see each other quite well.
“He'd be still more surprised if, when he came back, he found you waiting in his bed,” Ruth said to Jane. “Or me, waiting with my legs open and my ass-hole greased. Should I do it, Jane? Do you think I ought to go in and let my father screw me?”
Jane was listening for Jackson, trying to imagine that room downstairs, and she did not answer Ruth. Nothing could be heard. Ruth suddenly pulled Jane from the bed and started her toward the door.
“He'll wait down there for a minute to see if you come back,” she said. “Hurry, and you can still get to his room. Hurry!”
Jane stood with one hand on the door knob. Ruth sat on the bed with her legs apart, looking at the girl. There was a sound below, and a step on the stair. Jane hesitated. “Hurry!”
Jane moved very quickly and surely. She ran across the room and threw herself to the floor at Ruth's feet and buried her face in Ruth's lap, sucking and whimpering like a puppy. Ruth threw her arms around the girl's head and held her close until the sound of Jackson's footsteps died away in the hall.
“I'll go if you don't want me to stay,” Jane said. “If you want to be alone with Bill.”
“No, you stay,” said Ruth.
“You're damn right you stay,” I said.
I thought it was about time that I said something. Jane said something to Ruth and Ruth laughed.
“Let him wait for a minute,” she said. “There isn't anyplace else for him to go.”
“That is very good of you,” I said. “Ha ha ha ha ha.
I got up and ran the window shades higher so that the moonlight fell onto the bed. I stood there and watched the two women rolling around on the bed. Ruth crouched.
“It's your turn to suck my ass.”
Jane slid over her and kissed and licked all the way down her back. When she got to her ass it took her several minutes to make up her mind. She kissed Ruth's thighs and licked them and finally dug her tongue between them and sucked her cunt.
I thought of someone touching their toes to very cold water and drawing back. Her tongue curled out and darted back several times. Then she made the plunge. Ruth straightened her legs.
“Oh Bill,” Ruth said, “let's not ever go back to the city. I'll never find a girl there who can make me feel as good as this.”
She jazzed up and down while Jane was sucking her ass and she stuck first her fingers and then Jane's fingers into her cunt. When Jane stopped, Ruth fell over onto her side and lay limp. Jane kissed her on the mouth and the two of them lay together with their hands on each other's pussies.
I was tired of standing around. I got onto the bed and pushed between the girls. Ruth made a grab for my prick and Jane's hand slid after it too. Ruth pushed Jane onto her back and tried to push me on top of her.
“I think he ought to screw you,” Jane said. “I was in the barn with him today.”
Ruth stopped what she was trying to do.
“So that's what you did this afternoon! And neither of you told me about it!”
Jane looked scared. She didn't see me wink at her.
“I didn't mean not to tell you. I just didn't think about it when we were together.”
“Well, you can tell me about it now. What did you do out there in the barn?”
“Cut it out,” I said. “She thinks you mean it. She's kidding you, Jane.”
“I'll bet that I can guess what you did. You Frenched him, didn't you?”
She laughed when Jane said yes.
“I knew that was what you did, because that was what I would have done if I had been you.”
“It was nice in the barn,” Jane said. “And I did it all right. I swallowed it when he shot.”
“Do you know what you are?” asked Ruth.
“I'm not all of the things that you are. Not yet,” Jane said.
I laughed at Ruth's expression.
“Treacherous little cunt,” she said. “If you're going to act like that I'll get you drunk some night and take you someplace where you'll be gang fucked. Do you know what that is? A whole lot of men take turns at you.”
Jane turned to her.
“Were you ever gang fucked?”
“Yes,” Ruth said. “I guess I've been gang-fucked a few times.”
“There was a girl who went out with one of the men from the lumber camps and he took her up to the camp and the men kept her there all night. She had to leave town.”
“Right now,” I said, “I, personally, am a one-man gang. But I don't suppose I could interest anyone in that.”
“That's just what I need,” said Ruth. “Show him where my cunt is, Jane. He may need help.”
Ruth spread her legs and Jane opened her cunt. I braced my legs between Ruth's.
“I always like to have another woman put a man's cock into me,” Ruth said. “But I never thought before to have her lick my cunt while she was doing it. Try it, Jane. See if you can lick my cunt and stick his prick into it at the same time.”
Jane held Ruth's cunt open with one hand and held my cock in the other, but she did not move to do what Ruth had said. Ruth pushed her head toward her cunt.
“Tell me what it's like to have a prick slide over your mouth and into a cunt that you're licking,” she said. “If it's nice I may do it for you too. What are you waiting for? Here, put your head in back of me. That ought to be easy now.”
She held her legs for Jane to put her head between. The girl's mouth pushed up her thighs and pressed on her cunt. Her tongue slid upward and curled into the dark opening.
“Wouldn't it be nice if there were two of them going into me? If you had a prick in each hand and they were both coming closer to my cunt and your mouth? Your tongue would be crushed between them, and while they jazzed me you could suck first one and then the other. But-”
“Why don't you let her do this and forget your old man for a while?” I said.
Jane's mouth came away from Ruth wet and open, and suddenly she had my prick in it. I pushed forward while she sucked, and she slowly turned her head until her lips were holding it at the bottom and they were partly on my prick and partly in Ruth's cunt. I speared Ruth suddenly, and my cock ran against Jane's teeth and then her mouth was almost on my balls instead of the end of my prick.
I started to jazz and Jane tried to suck. It was all right, but it was one of those things that are better when you are trying to get them done than when you have accomplished them. I couldn't jazz very hard that way and Jane wasn't able to suck very well either. It required more patience that way than any of us had.
I pulled my prick out of Ruth and shoved it under Jane's nose. Ruth saw what I was doing and held the girl's head with her legs and we watched her open her mouth and try to get it. There was a wet part and a dry part of my prick, the wet marking how far it had been in Ruth's cunt. Jane got the end in her mouth and then dove and her lips squished down until she had more in her mouth than had been in Ruth. The cunty taste just seemed to make it better for her, and she really went after it. I clawed for Ruth's cunt.
“I don't want to be jerked off,” Ruth said, “when there's a cock within inches of my cunt. I can jerk myself off when I want that.”
She shoved my hand away and pushed Jane's head back and squeezed her legs together. She got them closed and Jane had her face up close to her thighs in back and was sucking the end of my prick as it stuck through them. Ruth moved her legs some more and got Jane away and stuck my cock up on her pussy and rolled around.
“You can suck my ass if you have to have your mouth on something,” Ruth said.
She wiggled her ass in Jane's face and she spread her legs again. Jane slid her hand between them and grabbed my prick, but she didn't try to put it in her mouth then. She stuck the end into Ruth's cunt and then pinched the lips around it in the same way that I had pinched her cunt over Ruth's mouth. She started to jerk me off with the other hand, and then she stopped and I stabbed it in.
Ruth hardly moved while I jazzed her. I didn't mind that. I liked to have her lie still sometimes, and I knew that it wasn't because she wasn't enjoying what I did. I knew that she was quiet just then to make it easier for Jane to suck her ass if she was going to.
Jane played round Ruth's ass and thighs and watched what was going on. Ruth had one leg thrown across me, and I don't suppose that there was much that Jane couldn't see. Jane bit Ruth's ass and thighs, and finally she plunged into Ruth's cheeks and Ruth wiggled, slapping her belly up tight against mine.
“I'm always going to have my ass sucked by a pretty young girl,” Ruth said. “When I'm rich I'll have a girl especially to suck my ass while I'm being jazzed. I'll give you a good job, Jane. You'll have nothing to do but suck my ass and stick pricks into my cunt.”
“I'd like that job. But not if it was anybody else.”
“You wouldn't want to suck any other woman's ass? Oh, Jane, you're a disappointment. But you'll change. If we were to go away you might not want to French any other woman for a while. But then one day you'd have the opportunity and you'd take it. And then you'd begin to make the opportunities.”
Jane kissed her many times.
“No,” she said.
“She says no,” I said.
“I thought once that I wouldn't ever let any man but you jazz me,” said Ruth. “And I wouldn't have if I had thought that you didn't want me to. If you had kept me in a cellar, locked in chains and never let me come out again I would have thought that you didn't want me to.”
“Don't corrupt the girl,” I said.
“No, we mustn't do that. Look at the innocent child with her tongue stuck up my ass. You can't say that I ever sucked a woman's ass while you screwed her, can you?”
“You will. It's a matter of conditioning.”
“Jane, why don't you suck Bill's ass too?”
Jane's head bounced up. She licked her lips and looked at me.
“If you'll suck his ass I'll change places with you. You need a jazzing too,” Ruth said.
I couldn't fuck Ruth if Jane was going to do that. I jammed my prick into Ruth and stopped.
Jane moved slowly, and Ruth was not able to hurry her. She got in back of me, and I pushed Ruth's leg away so I could get mine apart. Jane licked my thighs.
“Skip the preliminaries. If you get him too hot he'll shoot and then you won't get jazzed.”
“She's doing it her way,” I said.
“I was giving her the benefit of my experience. I know you.”
Jane's mouth settled against me and her tongue moved. She laughed.
“You're both a couple of lousy cunts. Both of you,” I said.
“As far as Jane is concerned, Ruth said, right now you're nothing but an asshole.”
Jane was through sucking and sat up. Ruth changed places with her. She messed up Jane's pussy by rubbing my prick around through it and then she cleaned it by licking it.
“You really like that stuff,” I said. “Here, there's more on my balls.”
“In my own fashion I'm something like Toby. Not exactly, but in a way.”
“I thought we were through with Toby.”
“Who is Toby?” Jane asked.
“Toby's a nancy,” Ruth said.
“What?”
“A lily, a pansy. A cocksucker.”
“Is she pretty?”
“Forget it,” I said. “Forget the whole thing, will you?”
“Yes, I think we'd better forget about Toby,” Ruth said.
She held my cock against Jane's cunt and reached between both our legs and pulled me up to the girl. Jane's cunt felt good, and close, and hot. Ruth crushed the part of my cock that was not into it yet.
“My god, you get hard,” she said. “It isn't going to hurt, is it Jane?”
“No, but I wish it would,” Jane said.
“You mustn't say that,” Ruth said. “It doesn't get you anyplace.”
“She's doing all right,” I said.
Ruth lifted Jane's leg and dug her mouth against the girl's ass. Jane wiggled.
“She's doing plenty all right,” I said.
I reached down behind Jane's legs until I felt Ruth's tits. I hung onto them and shoved the rest of my prick into Jane. Ruth slid her hands up under Jane's arms and shook her tits, and every few minutes her tongue would poke down and rub along my prick while it was sliding in or out of Jane's cunt. She shoved her pussy up and down on Jane's legs and on mine, and her thighs were very hot and the froth of hair between them was very wet.
Jane was soft, folded in our arms.
“When you ram that thing into her she bulges,” Ruth said. “She really does.”
“I'll make her bulge,” I said. “I'll make her bulge for the next nine months.”
I speared Jane and tried to keep my prick in her, but Ruth pulled her away. I dove at her again, but Ruth had quit sucking her and had her head between the girl's legs, covering her cunt.
I was so sore that I couldn't think of anything to say. Ruth smiled. And then she opened her mouth. Jane rolled away miserable for the moment, and clutched her hands to her cunt. She stuck her fingers into herself and began to jerk off.
“What a crummy, stinking thing to do,” I said. “What's the big god damned idea?”
“I'll fix her up. You've got me down on you; isn't that good any more?”
Jane jazzed herself with her fingers.
“Stick it in my mouth,” Ruth said. “It was good enough for you in the barn today.”
She ran her tongue over her lips and made small kissing noises with her mouth. Her hands were close to my prick, but she did not touch it.
“Watch, Jane,” she said.
Jane beat her fists on the bed. She locked her legs at the ankles, and seemed to be trying to squeeze something from herself. She threw her legs open, and stuck her fingers into her cunt again.
The end of my cock was as red as Ruth's lips, and as wet. Her tongue washed them both. I stabbed my prick into her mouth and shot.
Ruth swallowed, but I saw that she was still holding most of the jism in her mouth; and I stuck my cock deep so that she would have to swallow. She wrestled away from me.
Ruth dropped, face down, over Jane. She knocked the girl's hands away from her cunt, and grabbed at her with her mouth. Jane jumped and kicked. Ruth raised her head. She pressed her mouth hard on Jane's for a minute.
“Don't swallow!” Ruth said. “Now you have some of his jism in your cunt and in your mouth too!”
Jane looked mutely at me. Ruth moved up and threw her pussy in the girl's face.
“Put it into my cunt, the way I put it into yours! Then we can suck it out of each other until we both come.”
Ruth held the girl against herself, and then I could tell by her smile that the girl had done it. She let the girl go free, and then she licked her toes and the soles of her feet and her belly and finally her cunt. Jane started to lick Ruth.
I left them there and went to get a handkerchief to wipe the jism and other stuff from my thighs and my prick, I stood by the window and looked out at the moon, and I could hear the girls moving on the bed behind me. I lit a smoke and stood there, and I heard a train whistle somewhere. Jane cried out softly and Ruth laughed. I stood there, and the train whistle made everything seem unreal for a moment; but when the echo died everything was in place again. Still I looked out of the window, until the cigarette burnt down to my fingers, and I threw it away. I took another butt and lit it. I puffed on it. Smoke came out. I did not move then until I heard Ruth's sigh.
“That made me tired,” Jane said.
Ruth kissed her and wiped her mouth clean on the other girl's tits; and they got up from the bed and smoothed the wrinkles out of it.
“Shall I go downstairs now?” Jane asked.
Ruth told her to stay. When we went to bed the girls fell asleep very soon. But I lay awake between them for a long while.