I noticed a difference in Kathy the moment she arrived. But I was at a loss to figure out exactly what it was. I thought it might be a kind of annoyance at finding Bob still with me, but her attitude toward him seemed closer and warmer than before.
My old fears were renewed and amplified because of this new closeness, in fact. Instead of acting more mature around Bob, Kathy seemed to enjoy playing the role of “little girl lost,” talking baby-talk to him, cuddling in his lap and throwing her arms around him. Whenever she needed advice or an answer to a question, she inevitably went to him.
It also became quite obvious that on those nights when Kathy would sit on his lap and bounce around, Bob was much more in a mood to make love with me. When I could stand it no longer, when the suspense and worry had built up in me until I could keep quiet no longer, I burst out at Bob one evening just before he was about to start intercourse with me.
“What do you and Kathy do when I'm out teaching at the Institute in the afternoon?” I blurted, turning my pelvis away from him. “She gets you so excited right in front of me at nights… what do you do when you're alone with her? What?”
“Oh, Lord. I suppose it had to come sooner or later,” he sighed resignedly, rolling over beside me and reaching for a cigarette. “You must won't let it lie, will you, Denise… this idea that I am having sex with your daughter? What a… a corrupt and evil mind you have. Usually, I am not even here in the afternoon. When I leave you at the Institute, I go on some business calls, check in with my confidential contact. Only once a week, do I ever come back here. And let's see… last Monday, I played tennis with Kathy at the town courts. Would you like to check with the groundskeeper there?”
“I want to know what your relation is with my daughter?” I screamed, getting a cigarette for myself and lighting it. “Have you ever screwed my daughter?”
“Denise,” he stated calmly, looking at me as if I were a child or a patient or something. “Every time Kathy gets in one of her little moods and squirms in my lap… who is it I come in here and have intercourse with? It's you, Denise, not her!”
“You… you admit it!” I jumped at him, wagging my finger like an old shrew. “You admit that she gets you aroused… sexed up, sitting in your lap and kissing you and going on with all that baby talk trash!”
“My dear, Denise, I admit it most readily,” Bob announced, gesturing with a wide swing of his arms. “Be logical. Kathy is a fully developed young woman in a physical sense. She is 17 years old. She measures 36-23-36 in all the right places. She is a sexually desirable human being! Any normal male would be excited if she was sitting in his lap in a pair of those nothing pajamas and wiggling her delightfully configurated buttocks around. For an adult male, this is a normal reaction.”
“And you allow it! You let her get you all excited and work yourselves up into a heat of lust!”
“Oh, Denise… Denise, you have a perverted mind,” he began to lecture me again. “It is a normal reaction for me to become aroused. But to Kathy, I am an authoritarian father image. To her, this is a thing of familial affection. Evidently, her own father lacks something. She finds it impossible to communicate with him and gain a proper rapport.”
“You… you'd love to screw her… wouldn't you? I asked him outright, trying to stare back at him with the same degree of searching that his eyes imparted to me. “You'd dearly love to have your hands all over those breasts… her naked body beneath you. Oh, Bob, how can you think I'm such a fool. You and your logic. You want her in bed, Bob. Admit it!”
“I admit it,” he said immediately, turning me over on my back again and entering me as he continued to talk. “She is a very desirable female and I would thoroughly enjoy breaking her in to the arts of sexual love. This is true, Denise. It is also true that I achieve erection while she moves about on my lap. I try to conceal my excitement from her and she probably doesn't even notice it. Yes, Denise, I would really enjoy sex with Kathy. But… I have enough good sense about me not to dwell on the idea and become morbid about it. The trouble with you is, that you must realize Kathy is not a little girl anymore in physical build…”
I felt so strange and dirty talking about Kathy in this way at the very moment Bob was making love to me. It seemed that when he spoke of her body or that she was sexually attractive, I could actually feel his penis get harder, his thrust more forceful. It was terribly upsetting, and I had a great deal of difficulty in coming.
THE following Monday, my car was in the shop, so I went downtown that morning to do some shopping on the bus, and told Bob and Kathy that I would go directly from there to the Institute. I had actually chosen that day to have the car worked on because there was no school at the Institute. It was closed for some carpentry work that had to be done on the stage. But Bob and Kathy were not aware of that.
At two o'clock, I got off the bus a block away from the house, walking down the alleyway and slipping in the back door. I heard nothing from the kitchen. The house seemed unusually quiet and still. The whole downstairs was vacant, no sign of anything, no sound.
And then I heard Kathy's voice!
“… crazy darling… oh, crazy darling…”
It came from her room, accompanied by the muffled and unintelligible words of a man. My first impulse was to dash right up to her bedroom and fling open the door! I wanted to claw at Bob with my bare hands, call him every kind of rotten and cheating liar I could think of!
But I paused. I grabbed hold of the banister by the stairway and squeezed it with all my might. I tried to think of what to do, what a rational person would do. Yes! They were in Kathy's bedroom! The spy-scopes Bob had put in three summers before were still in the hall closet! I would see for myself. I would see with my own eyes, and then all of Bob Morgan's powerful brainwashing would not convince me that it was only my imagination. I would see it for myself!
I gained amazing control and crept up the stairs stealthily in my stocking feet. I opened the closet door very slowly, anticipating the slightest squeek and stopping short, pushing up or pulling down to correct it. Parting the hanging clothes very quietly, I was soon up against the back wall of the closet, felling along in front of me for the spy-scopes.
I When I found the one to the right, I stopped dead in my movements. I realized that I was shaking all over. I had been so intent on what I was doing, that I had not listened to the words that were occasionally audible to me.
“… darling oh, crazy, darling,” Kathy was carrying on like before, “Do it more… that way… oh, crazy darling…”
The blood flushed through me like I had just yanked the handle of a toilet. And that was how filthy and dirty I felt too. Like a toilet. Bob was in bed making love to Kathy! I was trembling all over, filled with rage. Yet I still had to see it with my own eyes. I did not want to look. But I had to be one hundred percent sure!
I put both hands flat against the wall on either side of the spy-scope. I leaned forward and let my right eye come to rest against it. The vision was blurred, obscured, there was dirt and dust all over the lens. I pushed myself away and began to breathe, realizing that I had been holding my breath. With my finger, I brushed away the dirt from the lens, and I immediately pressed my eye to it again.
The view was crystal clear this time. Kathy was lying on the bed totally naked, her legs raised in the air and spread apart, her arms wrapped around him, her hips pumping away like mad in a frenzy of lovemaking. It was horrible! I could see his penis stroking as it entered and withdrew from my own daughter in a patterned rhythm and technique that I had taught him.
Ricky was making love to Kathy!
Was it a shock wave of relief I felt, or just a surprise, when I saw that it was Ricky who was making love to my daughter? I don't really know. The confusion and questions welled up in me and I couldn't think straight. Why Ricky? How did he ever get to know Kathy? Why hadn't she told me she knew him? Why? How? Why? How?
I threw reason and logic to the winds when I heard Kathy say, “Oh, Ricky! I'm coming… screw me harder!” I charged through the rack of clothes and out into the hall. When I found the door to Kathy's room locked, I began kicking, screaming and beating on it. I went delirious, hysterical. I was a virtual mad woman!
Within seconds, it seemed, Kathy opened the door and tried to come outside. I pushed her away and entered the room, going straight for the closet door and pulling it open. The sight of Ricky, cowering behind the rack of Kathy's dresses, so idiotically trying to cover his penis with his hands, sobered me more than anything else. For a second, I had the impulse to burst into crazed laughter at the spectacle he presented, but I reached in to grab him by the shoulder and drag him out. He flopped onto the bed when I let go, and quickly covered himself with a sheet.
Kathy had managed to get on a robe before she unlocked the door. There was something so bizarre about this, I thought. Ricky, the boy who I had taught to make love like a man, who I had been naked with in bed for hours at a time, covering himself up like some Victorian prude. But it was not a funny situation. Not when my daughter was involved.
“Denise… let me explain something about…” Ricky tried to speak up like a man.
“Mrs. Bryant!” I shouted him down, glaring at Kathy, who had maintained more composure than he and was standing by the foot of the bed. “What have… how did you meet my daughter?”
“Mrs. Bryant,” he addressed me most courteously, still scared out of his wits, “I… called you last month… about helping me… giving me some extra help in drama before school starts, Kathy… Kathy answered, and we just got to talking, and… well, she invited me over to see her…”
“How long has this been going on? I demanded, looking at Kathy.
“Mother, I am 17-year-old girl now,” she stated, walking up to me as if to challenge my maternal authority, assuming an attitude of pseudomaturity, “I am not that confused little teenager you talked with two years ago… the last time I had a chance to talk with you privately about things a girl needs to talk with her mother about!”
“Ricky… get your clothes and leave,” I managed to say, hiding my face in my hands as I collapsed into a chair.
“Mrs. Bryant… I want to say…”
“Just go…” I insisted, not saying anything or moving until I heard him walking down the steps.
Slowly, I took my hands away from my face and opened my eyes too look at Kathy. She was standing there facing me, the strangest look on her face. I think she was trying to decide, which way to react. At one moment, I was sure she was going to get very angry and strike out for her “rights” and independence. In the next instant, she seemed as if on the verge of tears.
“Oh, Mother! Mother! Help me! Help me-ee!” she cried out suddenly, dropping to her knees and clutching my legs, her eyes searching mine so soulfully. “Mother… I can't help… it. I can't help it, Mother…”
“My darling, beautiful Kathy,” was all I could come up with, as I ran my fingers through her long brown hair and pressed her cheek against my knee. “I never… knew you had such problems… I guess. Oh, I don't know what I'm saying, Kathy. I love you, precious. I've never been able to be much of a… a good mother, even when we're together. How… when did it first happen…?”
“Last fall,” she told me immediately, realizing at once what I meant, “I tried, Mother, but it was no good. This guy I was crazy about… he never gave me a chance when he was in school. Then he dropped out and went in the Army. When he was home on leave, I met him at a dance… and we got, oh, I don't know how it happened. We were dancing, and I just knew that was it. We both got so turned on it was embarrassing for us to stay there in public. He ditched his date and I ditched mine and we went to a motel.”
“Did it… hurt, Kathy?” I asked, feeling very helpless and inadequate, trying to smile when she looked up at me and shook her head.
“No… I liked it,” she admitted to me with such a fresh and innocent honesty. “Mother, I… I think I'm a nymphomaniac! I don't know what to do, honest. When I get with a boy and he starts in, I can't say no! I'm a nympho, Mother!”
“Don't be silly, precious,” I consoled her, trying to believe it was just not so. “You're 17 years old. My goodness! How many 17 year old girls are still virgins these days? The only thing you have to worry about, young lady, is getting pregnant You… you're not… you haven't…?”
“Oh, of course not. I take the pill,” she said, acting as if I were terribly old fashioned, “Bobo knows a druggist who sells them to him without a prescription for about five times what they cost if you go to a doctor.”
“Who's Bobo?”
“He's my… regular boyfriend,” Kathy answered, seeming more at ease and relaxed, standing up and shaking out her hair, “He's nice. We don't have a big hang-up or anything serious… just fun and all.”
“And your father… your stepmother… they know nothing about any of this?”
“You better believe they don't,” she assured me with a shudder, “You can't talk to them like a human being, Mother. They think they know it all and that kids ought to do this or that, and that's it. I wanted to talk to you about it last summer… this summer. I could scream sometimes when Bob was here all the time and I couldn't talk to you.”
“Bob… yes, I thought he might be here today,” I said, wondering where he was.
“Oh, who cares about Bob?” Kathy commented, but I thought I detected her trying to avoid the subject a little too vigorously. “Oh… I know he's your boyfriend, Mother. But he's the reason I never get to talk to you alone or do anything. And at night, I go…”
“Yes?” I questioned when she suddenly broke off in mid-sentence.
“Nothing…”
“Tell me. Kathy. It was you who stressed that there was a lack of communication between us.”
“Mother… is Bob a good lover?”
“Why… whatever in the world made you ask that? I don't really think it's a proper subject for discussion.”
“I think it is,” Kathy insisted, and she seemed the most serious I had ever seen her, “Mother, if anyone can understand about me, I know you can. At night… I can't sleep when I hear you and Bob in the bed together. I can't sleep and it… I know it's wrong, Mother, but it turns me on. Oh, gee, I've heard you getting kicks in there with him, and I can't sleep!
“That's why… well, I didn't know any kids here this summer, and when Ricky called for you last month… I pretended I was you on the telephone.”
“You what?” I exploded, clamping my hand up to my mouth, not knowing what to say.
“Yes, Mother,” Kathy said with a nod, a slightly triumphant and knowing smile trying to show itself, “He thought I was you to start with because when I answered, he said 'Denise?' in such a sexy voice. And I just felt like changing my voice a little and making it low like yours, and I said, 'Yes, darling.'
“So, that's how it started. You can imagine some of the things he said, and I just kept saying, 'Yes, darling.' It was a riot, Mother. Oh, I know I shouldn't be joking about it. I know that, Mother, and I'm not joking about it. You have no idea how close it made me feel to you..
“How close?” I questioned, so beside myself with shock I was hardly conscious of everything she was saying. “How could it?”
“Mother, don't you understand?” she asked, kneeling beside me once again with a look in her eyes that bespoke a genuine kind of love. “I know! You don't have to try to hide anything from me. I'm not ashamed of you. I know that you're like me, Mother. You have to have it too. When Ricky… started telling me on the phone how he wanted you to do things to him… how you ate him raw and everything… oo-oo-oh, I just got so jazzy!”
“But how… did you meet him, if… he thought you were me?” I asked bewilderedly.
“Oh… ha-ha… that took some doing,” she said with a funny laugh that I seemed to remember from more innocent times. “I was afraid to talk too much, or he would know it wasn't you. I told him that 'my daughter' was visiting me and just dying to meet him. The rest was easy. I had him come by in the afternoons when you weren't here and when Bob was gone too.”
“So… you think your mother's a nymphomaniac?” I found myself saying blankly, too numbed to think or plan what I was saying, “You think your mother's a tramp, and you can be a tramp too. Yes… I suppose you would think that-shacking up with a man here at the house like this seducing schoolboys on the side. Would you like me to tell you the rest, Kathy? Surely, you want to hear about the man who pays mother thirty dollars to watch me pull up my dress and masturbate? Or the married man who likes for me to spank his bare bottom? Or the preacher who runs in for a quick… kiss on the penis and pays me ten dollars. Oh, if you think… think you're such a nymphomaniac… maybe you'd like to try five men at once! I have, Kathy! What do you think of that?”
“Oh, Mother! Mother! I love you!” she screamed, in tears as she threw her arms around me and hugged me so very tight. “I don't care what you've done, Mother. Don't you understand… that I understand? Can't you understand me now? I love you and I need you, Mother. I don't… have anybody else…”
Kathy crawled up on my lap and held my head close to hers. Her warm lips pressed on my cheeks, and I was overwhelmed with her love. We both cried our fill, and then stayed there in each others' arms for several minutes. I couldn't think of anything to say. The dirty feeling was not as bad as it was, but I kept thinking of Ricky. He had made love to both mother and daughter. The thought kept running through my mind and it would not go away.
Bob did not come home that night, and at about one in the morning, Kathy knocked on my bedroom door and asked if she could get in bed with me. We talked for a while about several things there in the darkness, our arms sometimes around each other, or our hands entwined.
“Mother… it's not wrong or… or perverted to do that is it?” she asked about going down on a man. “You do it, don't you?”
“It's not wrong,” I assured her, but realized that I couldn't just outwardly condone complete promiscuity. “It's something… well, like any kind of sex. You should be in love. You should find a boy you deeply love and discover a spiritual oneness with.”
“No… I'm not like that,” she admitted, kissing my forehead. “I've even thought of having sex with Bob. He can turn me on sometimes… like when I hear him making love with you, or see him kissing you. I peeped in the den one night and saw him kissing your breasts. I was so turned on I… I made it myself that night.”
“How many times have you and Ricky… made love?”
“Three times,” she told me readily, adding, “and he's the only boy I've ever eaten raw…”
“Kathy! Where in the world did you get that expression?”
“Oh… that,” she laughed at my tone of voice, “The kids say it at school. Like if you want to tell a guy to get lost, you say, 'Aw… eat me raw.' Everybody knows what it means.”
“And… have any boys done that to you?” I found myself inquiring.
“No… no boys,” she said, seeming to emphasize the last word, then deciding to tell me all, “but there was a man… a real beautiful man. Oh, I know it sounds terrible, but it really wasn't. Joby Clark, he's the big disc jockey back home. I used to call him up in the afternoons and talk and yak, and so he asked me for a date.
“I… I kind of knew he was married. But Joby Clark! My gosh, Mother, any girl would die to have a date with Joby Clark. I met him down at the station that afternoon when he signed oft the lights, and I was dancing there in the dark with Joby Clark.
“He told me what a pretty girl he thought I was. Oh, Mother, the music was just all over the studio. It was super! And when he said how he liked my legs… his hands were on my legs. I… I couldn't see what he was doing until I felt him kissing my legs, up, up, up… and then zoo-oom! Oo-oh, I just about flipped!”
“Well, I think that's enough for tonight,” I stopped her, feeling very uneasy and frustrated, “Let's try to go to sleep now, and we can talk some more about it tomorrow.”
“Mother… are you going to make love with Ricky again?”
“Of course not,” I answered sharply, really upset by any talk of the idea. “1 don't think he'll be coming around here again. You… the two of you never talked about me, did you?”
“No,” Kathy replied, “But I wish he had told me more about you on the phone.”
“Why?”
“I'd like to know how good a lover you really are…”
When I told Bob what had happened the next day, he was furious. He called me all kinds filthy names for having had an affair with one of my students. But I realize now that the main point of his anger was caused by jealousy. It absolutely infuriated him that some other male, and particularly “some little punk schoolkid,” had been the first to enjoy both mother and daughter.
I should have realized then that there would be trouble. I should never have told Bob at all about the situation with Kathy. But I too had to have someone to talk with. And I was afraid to confide too many of my fears and problems to Kathy.
In the back of my mind, the suspicions grew every time I was out and there was a possibility that Bob and Kathy were alone together. I found myself watching each one closely for any change of attitude toward me, or each other. The only thing I could detect was that Kathy felt closer to me now. She talked to me more openly each time we were together.
One morning when Bob was out, she told me about her new boyfriend that she had met at the tennis court. I knew who he was, a very popular senior, and I was pleased that she was dating him. When she insisted upon giving me the intimate details of their activities the night before, I listened, but I felt strange about it. There was something morbid in a daughter feeling so compelled to tell her mother just everything.
“Mother, he just went wild over my tits!” she exclaimed, and I also wished she would use less slang. “He said they were the biggest and most beautiful he'd ever seen and that included some of these movie stars that pose in the nude for the men's magazines. I'd never liked doing it in the car before, but he knew this crazy, crazy way where I sat on his legs facing him with my knees up in the seat and boy did that have pz-zazz!”
“Kathy… you can't just continue to go around having relations with every boy you date,” I had finally had enough, and I was ready to speak out. “Nobody will have any respect for you. How can you expect to find a decent man to fall in love with, to marry… if you have relations with every man or boy you date?”
“What difference will it make?” she threw her arms out in a gesture of uncaring. “I'm not going to marry anyone from high school. Father's going to send me to college or to business school, whichever I want. I'll meet new people there and take it a little slower. Besides, in college, or if you're working, it's not like you're a kid anymore. They expect you to have a love life…”
And that was the way it went. If anything, Kathy seemed to mature more in her relationship with Bob. She was not constantly provoking him or sitting in his lap like she did before. And I credited this to her more open relationship with me, as well as, I am afraid, her outside interests with the boy she was dating.
I knew that I was sitting on a powder keg that was bound to explode, but I did not know when, where or how. I found myself drinking so much more, particularly that following weekend. Bob and I were sitting in the den looking at T-V. He was calm and casual, concentrating on the program.
I was tied in knots. I wanted him to make love to me, but I knew that if I asked him outright or even acted like I wanted him to, he would enjoy teasing me to distraction without giving me satisfaction. Kathy was not there to inspire him. She was out on a date with Wayne again.
It was after midnight when the door chimes sounded. I know it was that late because I had looked at the clock when I frantically thought I had finished the last bottle of scotch a few minutes earlier. Fortunately, I found that I had two more in the supply closet.
Bob answered the door and I heard him say, “No, officer, I'm not. But the girl's mother is here.”
“What is it… is it Kathy? Has something happened?” I asked in fright, struggling up from seat and stumbling over the ottoman as I made my way unsteadily toward the door. “Where is my daughter?”
“She's right here, ma'am,” a young town policeman announced, and then I saw Kathy standing sheepishly beside him. “It is my duty to tell you that we found your daughter parked in a car with one Wayne Hoffman out by Barney's Lake. At the time I flashed my light inside, they were disrobed from the waist down. Both my partner and I can testify that a sexual connection was taking place…
“Oh… oh, no!” I was genuinely shocked at the news coming to me in this form, although I knew what had been going on between them. “What… are you going to do?”
“Well, ma'am,” the officer remarked less formally now, motioning me to step outside with him where Kathy could not hear. “The Hoffman boy is 18 and your daughter is 17, Mrs. Bryant. If you wanted to press the matter, I'm sure Judge Farnsworth would take our testimony.”
“And… if I don't?” I asked him uncertainly.
“It's up to you, ma'am. They're both youngsters, really. Maybe it's the best things for the parents to handle it.”
“Yes… I believe I can take care of this,” I told him with a smile. “And… I want to thank you so very much.”
“I hope you realize, Kathy… just how much of a child you are!” Bob was lecturing her sternly as she sat cowed on the sofa in the den. “I have tried to be a father to you while you are here with your mother. I have given you the love and affection that a child expects from a parent. Is this not true, Kathy?”
“Yes… yes, you've been wonderful to me,” she sobbed, looking at me as if to ask if I approved of Bob exerting authority like this. “You and Mother… have been very good to me.”
“Perhaps we have been too good,” he stated, standing before her with hands on hips. “I think it is not too late to take some disciplinary measures.”
I cringed when I heard him say that. I wanted to cry out and ask him to leave it all to me. I knew that talking to Kathy was the only thing that could do any good now. But I felt so powerless. I was still reeling from all the scotch I had consumed, and I felt like downing more. When I saw Bob unbuckle his belt and whip it out of his trousers, I finally did speak out. “No… no, Bob!” I screamed, grabbing him y the arm. “You can't whip a 17-year-old girl, Bob. Leave her alone!”
“She's been left alone too much, Denise! That's the trouble. Sit down!”
Bob pushed me down in the chair as he brought his belt across Kathy's legs hard. She screamed and jumped up as I sat there too dumbfounded to speak or do anything. Suddenly jerking her to him by the arm, Bob turned her around, grabbed her around the waist and slumped her across my legs.
Kathy seemed too terrified to cry out anymore. As for myself, I merely watched in horror while Bob yanked her skirt and slip to her waist and literally tore her panties off, laying bare her buttocks. She jumped and whined at the first crack of the belt across her flesh, then screamed and cried out in pain as the blows continued, pressing and twisting her body against my thighs, grabbing on to my ankle and begging for mercy.
“Oh, please, Bob… please stop it,” I begged him in tears. “Bob, don't do this to her… it's… killing me…”
“Not as much as if she were sent to a home for delinquents,” he told me between lashes, slowing down. “Discipline and punishment within the home would save a lot of girls from ruin… a lot of parents from scandal.”
Kathy's poor little behind was streaked with red marks before Bob finally let up. Perhaps she was numb to the pain any longer, because when he picked her up, she was only sobbing and trying to hide her face. I immediately reached for my drink and drained the glass. When I put it down, Bob was sitting beside Kathy on the sofa, holding her in his arms.
“I wouldn't have done this,” he was telling her, “unless I loved you almost as a father. The love between us all is still there, Kathy. Your mother loves you, and I love you. But when you behave in the way that you did tonight, you must be punished. You are still a minor child. You heard the policeman tell your mother that tonight. She did not press charges against the boy for your sake. Do you understand all of this, Kathy?”
“Yes… yes,” she sobbed, and I noticed that she clung to Bob so desperately. “I guess I did need it… know you love me…”
“Now, you run up to bed and try to get a good rest,” Bob instructed her paternally, kissing her on the cheek. “You'll probably feel much better tomorrow. I think you've needed that spanking for a long time. Remember that your mother and I are here with you. We'll be in the room next to you. We love you.”
I poured myself another drink and brushed the hair away from my eyes. I tried to focus, but I couldn't. The reason I was trying to focus was to determine whether it was just my imagination, or if I really did see a big spot on the front of Bob's trousers. I recalled how people sometimes had orgasms from spanking people. I had read about it somewhere. They were sadists. And Bob was a sadist.
“You're drunk as a lord!” I remember him saying, “I'd better get you up to bed too.”
“You don't want to screw me tonight?” I remember asking him with a sarcastic laugh. “Or did you get your kicks beating my daughter's butt?”
I think I wanted him to slap me. I think I was really asking him, in my own way, to give me the same beating he had administered to Kathy. But he only helped me up the stairs, undressed me, and put me to bed naked.
It was difficult to separate fact from dreams for those next few hours. I was groggy with the Scotch and exhausted from the tension and need of sleep. I seem to remember talking with Kathy, lying next to her and being embraced to her, listening to her tell me why she couldn't go to sleep.
But dreams like this had become common. They had haunted me for so long, I assumed it was all just that-I was dreaming that Kathy had crawled in bed with us and was clinging to my naked body, while Bob lay pressed against me from behind and joined in our conversation.
There was nothing sexy about this part necessarily, except that Bob and I were both naked and I could feel his hard penis probing me gently against the buttocks.
I was not too much aware of Kathy's body. She had on her baby dolls and she was close to me. I was not apparently bothered that I was nude myself. It seemed that the primary thing was that she was upset and couldn't sleep and had crawled in bed with us. We were trying to comfort her.
That dream went away in time, and I thought I must have slept or dozed off for perhaps an hour or more. It was just beginning to get light outside when I realized I was at least partially awake again. This time, I was filled with passion. I was breathing heavily. And while I recalled the previous episode as being a dream, this was more real. There was a heaviness pressing in on me and someone else was breathing heavily too.
And then suddenly, I was more than aware that Bob was on me. His penis was in me, and he was using the slow, measured strokes that always evoked the most longing response from me. I reached up and put my arms around him. I was moving my hips and working toward my first orgasm.
“Oh, Bob… faster, darling… tear me apart!” I called out, moving more frantically now, clawing at his back, oh, Bob! I'm coming!”
He said nothing, continuing the slow rhythm of his stout piston in and out of my well oiled chamber, as I screamed obscenities and cried out in whines and groans of pure joy with each successive orgasm.
“Isn't it beautiful… beautiful…?” Bob was asking, the strangest glow in his eyes as he looked off to the side.
“Bob… what?” I asked, not understanding until I reached out beside me and felt Kathy's body right next to us.
“Oh, Mother… Mother, darling!” she cried out breathlessly, putting her hands up to my face, “Mother, I couldn't help it… couldn't stay asleep… couldn't…”
I pushed her away violently and she fell off the side of the bed. With all the strength it was possible for me to muster in one surprise heave, I lifted Bob's huge body up and deposited him on the floor at the other side of the bed. At that moment, there was only one thought in my mind. I was going to the dresser and get the gun. I was going to kill him!
I grabbed the gun and whirled around to look at Bob, still sprawled on the floor. For the first time ever, I saw fear in his eyes. I saw his body trembling. And when he opened his mouth and tried to speak, the words refused to come. My finger, which had already begun to squeeze the trigger, suddenly released its tension.
In that one flash instant, I changed from a potential murderess to a hysterical woman, hysterical with laughter. I dropped the gun on the floor and kicked it beneath the dresser. I had never felt so powerful in my entire life. Bob Morgan in that one sweep second of mortal weakness had lost the powerful hold in which he had contained me for so long.
“You coward… you miserable little coward,” I managed to say through my wild laughter. “I don't know what you really do… you couldn't be a spy… if you are, God help us all…”
“Denise… I think you need to calm down,” he tried to say with authority, but his voice was cracking. “Last night… this has all been a terrible shock to you, my dear.”
“If you take more than ten minutes to get out of this house, I'll call the police!” I tore into him with a marvelously exhilarated feeling of power and purpose. “I can have you put in jail, Bob. I don't care about my reputation, and Kathy's age will keep her name out of it. I mean it, Bob. You get your stuff out of here and go… for good.”
“Well, look… cart I borrow the car to ”
“I'll call you a cab, Bob,” I said more calmly, going for the phone. “And in nine minutes, I'll call the police, if you're not gone.”
Bob knew that I meant it. His moment of weakness had emasculated him. He wasted no time at all in throwing his things into a suitcase, and telling me he would have the express company pick up his trunk. He was ready to leave when the cab came.
Bob Morgan had gone out of our lives forever. But the scars he left were deep and festering.