Arranging to see her husband's boss was not so easy, however, Sally Denham found. He did maintain an office over the bank, but it was a sort of dummy office. There was no secretary and you could never tell when Blodgett himself would be there. Sally took to watching the square from her front windows for a glimpse of the tobacco-colored station wagon that he drove.
Meanwhile she tried to persuade Ray that it would not do to present their case too hastily at the bank, they must be organized with all the figures on the store's volume of business, show that Ray was a capable administrator. Her poor darling had been going around like a zombie ever since that day he found out about the sale of the store. She just couldn't understand why it meant so much to him … after all, he was a young man, only twenty-six … how could anyone be a failure at twenty- six? She supposed it had something to do with being poor as a child … wanting something other than farming …no doubt the business people with whom Ray's family had to deal, and beg credit from, had seemed to a child like the very pillars of the economy or something. Her own father, a moderately successful salesman, had never worried about working for others, but Ray had this craving, this obsession, to be his own boss.
On Friday afternoon before the Labor Day weekend she at last saw the brown station wagon parked opposite the bank and knew that here was her opportunity. At first she thought of telephoning to ask for an appointment, but she nervously dropped the phone back on the cradle after dialing three numbers. She hurried into the bedroom, unzipping her dress as she walked, and let it fall to the floor. She selected a sheer pale yellow dress that seemed ladylike and fresh, though a trifle short. Then she released her long ash-brown hair from its pony tail and hastily brushed it down over her shoulders. She realized that this made her look younger … perhaps, she thought, surveying herself in the mirror, she had gotten a trifle heavier since marriage, although it certainly had not harmed her looks. It only made the dress cling faithfully to every curving high-point of her figure. On the hanger it had seemed so demure and simple, but now when it was stretched over her high thrusting breasts and caressing her soft fluid hipline, the dress was almost blatantly sexy. It would do nicely, she thought, for the purpose of charming John Blodgett onto their side. She hastily buckled on white sandals, dabbed a touch of lipstick on her small, prettily curved mouth and picked up her purse.
She hurried down the stairs and out of their private entrance which fortunately did not open into the drugstore. God, it was hot … she would be perspiring before she had crossed the square! One of the things Sally disliked about Quiggville was that everyone knew your business, since everyone's business was transacted on the square – bank, doctor's office, finance company or whatever. Hopefully she would not be observed entering the side door that led to the rooms over the bank, although of course she had a perfect right to go there if she wished. She reached the entrance without meeting anyone she knew and let herself into the gloomy hallway. The sagging old oiled wood stairs creaked beneath her light tread.
John Blodgett's office door stood open. Evidently he had been looking for something, as his desk was strewn with papers. As Sally reached his doorway he looked up, face blank for only a second. Then he smiled in welcome.
«Why, hi there, Miz Denham! You doin' all right?»
«Fine, thank you,» she acknowledged, all her courage abruptly deserting her.
«Well, just come right in. You, uh, lookin' for me?»
«Yes, if you're not busy, I would like to talk with you for a few minutes.» As she moved toward the chair he indicated, Sally nearly tripped over a big black and tan German shepherd that had been completely concealed by the desk. «Oh!» she exclaimed nervously, and the animal raised its head and regarded her alertly although not otherwise moving from its reclining position.
«That's just Duke,» Blodgett chuckled. «You 'fraid of dogs, Miz Denham?»
«N-no, I love dogs,» she laughed self-consciously. «He startled me, that's all.» She reached down to stroke the dog's glossy head. She had seen the magnificent animal before, usually looking out the rear window of the station wagon. Sally crossed her shapely bare legs and folded her hands demurely in her lap, looking directly into the ruddy, handsome face of her husband's boss.
«Mr. Blodgett, Ray – Ray and I are very disappointed about your decision to sell the drugstore. That's what I want to talk to you about. Ray doesn't know that I'm here … it was entirely my own idea to come … s-so I hope you won't say anything to him about it.»
«Well, now, is that a good idea, for a nice little wife to keep secrets from her husband?» he drawled, but from his understanding smile Sally knew he was only teasing her. In fact, his easy-going informality was putting her more and more at ease, so she plunged on.
«No, of course it isn't, but I guess wives have always interfered a little bit … when they thought it was necessary. You see, I understand my husband so much better than anyone else does. He's very proud – too proud to come right out and tell you how much he wants to own that drugstore, or at least be a partner. I'm sure you know that's why we decided to come here in the first place,» she made this last remark rather pointed and then looked up anxiously to see whether it had offended him. Apparently not, for he was still smiling in a kindly way. He seemed to be staring at her legs and she shifted her position a bit in the chair and tugged her skirt down before continuing, «Ray is going to ask the bank for a loan, to buy you out. I-I'm sure that your… your help, your recommendation would be very, uh, persuasive to the people at the bank. I believe you're related to the bank president?»
«Brother-in-law,» John Blodgett said, nodding, «Lee Quigg is my wife's twin.»
«Oh, really – twins? I didn't know that.»
«'Course that doesn't mean I can tell him how to run his bank,» the big man pointed out, «but like you say, my opinion does carry a little weight.»
«I'm sure it carries a great deal of weight,» Sally said warmly, «that's why I came to you. And also, of course, because I feel that I know you … a little, at least. I couldn't have gone to Mr. Quigg, for instance, with such a request. Will you help us, Mr. Blodgett?» Her gray eyes rested pleadingly on his face and she sat forward slightly in her chair, the movement deepening the dark shadowed cleft between her large breasts. Blodgett's gaze flicked downward and rested on those twin mounds that were quivering noticeably from her nervousness. God damn, he thought, but the girl had a pair of beauties! He could hardly believe that Ray Denham's snotty New England wife was actually sitting here in his office at this moment asking him for a favor. He had always dismissed her as unattainable, no matter how attractive. Now, a bold plan was rapidly taking shape in his devious, cunning mind.
«Look, Miz Denham – may I call you Sally?» She nodded breathlessly. «I want to help you, Sally. I sure-to-God do!» his husky southern voice oozed sincerity, «and maybe there just might be something I can do. But don't go gettin' your hopes up too high. We all of us business people in this town would like to see Ray running the store. After all, he's a Tennessean … practically a local boy. But these aren't the best of times, I guess you know that, and there's certain rules any bank has to be guided by in making loans. If you start bending those rules too much out of shape then the bank's in trouble.»
«Perhaps,» she said timidly, «if you feel there's no chance of our getting the loan, you'll reconsider selling and go back to the partnership plan?»
He smiled sadly. «I'm afraid my doctor would have something to say about that, and Lauralee wouldn't be too happy either. Now if you and I were going to be the partners, that might be different.»
Sally was at first annoyed that he would joke about a matter which was so very serious to her. She looked at him rather severely and he stared back at her with a direct, disturbing gaze. Good heavens, he couldn't be … he wasn't suggesting … no, she could only treat it as a pleasantry, an inept one. So she smiled at him innocently.
She had never really had the opportunity to study John Blodgett before at close range. He certainly did not look to be in poor health, nor old enough to retire. Although streaked with gray, his hair was as thick as Ray's and worn modish sideburns. He was a large man and undeniably a handsome one and his oddly compelling gaze was raking her from head to toe! Sally felt the first prickle of discomfort, and feared that he had misunderstood her intentions in coming here. She had hoped of course to take advantage of her feminine position, but not … not by demeaning herself!
«Is there anything you can do for us? Have you any advice?» she asked, growing more uneasy every second that his now frankly lecherous eyes devoured her body. He smiled in answer, slowly and confidently.
«There might be, Sally,» he paused to let his words sink in. «There just might be. Tell me – what ever made a northern gal like you marry a no-account like Ray Denham?»
«What do you mean, no-account?» she blazed, getting angrily to her feet, I love Ray!» The dog, Duke, stirred and lifted his head again. «Why, there's not another man in this stupid little town who's got one- tenth of Ray's brains and ambition!»
«Oh, I know all that,» he answered mildly, «but he hasn't got any money, any family, any backing. You should have married a man with some position in the world.»
«Don't underestimate us, Mr. Blodgett,» she said icily, «Ray will have position some day, and I'll fight to help him get it.»
«Uh-huh. And just how far are you willing to go, honey, to help your husband?»
«Wh-what do you mean?» her pretty face wrinkled into a frown as she tried to fathom the depths of his mind.
«Simple. I've got something you need – influence. And you've got something I could use. Yes sir, something I could make very good use of,» his even white teeth flashed at her. «You're a regular little spitfire, but I admire a woman with guts – specially when she comes all tied up in a pretty package like you do.»
«I'm afraid I don't understand you,» Sally said coldly, beginning to move around the desk with her eye on the door. But her heart was plummeting. God, had she ruined everything?
«Let me make it crystal clear, then,» Blodgett stood up, too. He turned around and closed the door, than faced the trembling young wife. «I like you. And after we got to know each other better, I think you'd like me. As for that husband of yours, I didn't like the way he shot his mouth off the other day and if I do anything to help him get the store it will only be because of his pretty little wife and how nice she is to me.»
Sally had reached the door but found her path blocked by Blodgett's sturdy figure. Her heart was pounding wildly and her beautiful face was flushed with embarrassment and anger. «Let me pass,» she snapped, «I can see I've only wasted my time in coming here!»
He reached out and seized her, drawing the full length of her body tightly against his and holding her there, immovable. Gasping with shock, she beat ineffectually at his chest with her little fists, meanwhile feeling his belt buckle digging into her flesh just under her breasts and further down, something hard that poked into her stomach and could only be … oh, God! She was enveloped in the pleasant spicy smell of his shaving lotion as he forced her face upward to meet his. His open mouth enclosed her small lips and his powerful tongue inserted itself between her clenched teeth … pushing … pushing into her throat. With a muffled, strangling cry and with all her strength Sally succeeded in twisting away, ducking her head out of the reach of his lewdly thrusting tongue. At the same time she freed her right hand and slapped him just as hard as she could, so that her palm smarted from the impact.
«Ow!» he exclaimed. «Why, you little hellcat!» Instead of being angry, however, he was smiling … laughing down at her as though it was a huge joke. «You'll pay me for that, in spades,» he promised, rubbing his reddened cheek. Behind Sally the dog, Duke, suddenly let out a sharp bark and she started with fright and surprise.
«Down, boy – stay,» John Blodgett commanded calmly, grinning wryly at the terrorized girl. «You're damn lucky Duke didn't take a nip at your ass … he didn't know if we were playing or it was for real. I surely would hate to see anything happen to that cute little tail of yours!» He was still holding her loosely and they were both breathing heavily. «I want to see you … very soon … your place?»
«You're crazy!» she sputtered. «I never want to see you again … after this outrageous … this …» she couldn't find words to express her contempt for his behavior, «you just wait 'til I tell my husband about this!»
«If you want me to help you, those are the terms. Just call me when you're ready, Sally. Your place, or we can go to a motel … personally, I think your apartment is safer, but that's up to you.»
«You … are … insane,» she hissed, «I have no intention of meeting you anywhere. What you are suggesting is unthinkable – you're married
– I'm married. And even if I weren't, the very idea would disgust me!»
«Oh, but you wouldn't find the experience disgusting, honey. I can promise you that you'll love it.» His big hands began to move and before she had realized it Sally felt her right breast cupped by his widespread fingers, and reacted as though she had received an electric shock. She struck his arms down and reached for the doorknob, her eyes blinded by hot tears of rage. He caught her around the waist as she jerked the door open and passed his offending hand gently over the rounded swell of her buttocks, whispering hoarsely, «And remember this, Sally, if I don't hear from you, then you can be sure Ray won't get the loan!»
She fled at a dangerous speed down the old staircase, stopping in the hallway below only long enough to compose herself sufficiently to step out onto the sidewalk. The sunlight was blinding, the air oppressively still and hot as she made her way back across the square, defeated. John Blodgett! She still could not believe it … John Blodgett, one of the most important men in town … he and his wife right at the head of the Quiggville social circuit … respected, admired. Ha! And he had dared to kiss her, in the most repulsive way, a suggestive tongue kiss … touched her breast … asked her to meet him! It was the greatest shock of her young life. The old lecher, yes, twice her age … oh, he hadn't come right out and said it in so many words, what he wanted … hadn't put a name to it. God help her, what had she done? And all she'd wanted was to help her adored Ray!
Sally reached the security of her own door, unlocked it with fumbling fingers and ran upstairs. She threw herself on the bed, still shaking and quivering although no tears came. She wanted to cry but could not. She was frightened.
From his dusty window John Blodgett had observed her progress every step of the way. God damn, he chuckled, look at that little ass sway … she sure is fit to be tied! Look at those legs … gal's got legs like a racehorse … Jesus, I bet she can pump those legs in the sack, too. Little hellcat! He saw with satisfaction that Sally did not enter the drugstore, but went directly to the house entrance. No, she wouldn't be in a hurry to tell Ray about it … it was a hundred-to-one shot that she would tell her husband at all. Because the first thing he'd say would be what were you doing in his office? And Sally was smart enough to figure that out. Let it lay for a few days, just as it was. If the snotty little bitch was so crazy about her farmer of a husband, she'd be around. Yes sir, all he had to do was let it lay.
Still smiling, Blodgett reached down and patted Duke's furry head. Liked her, didn't you, boy? We might just get ourselves a piece of that, Duke, how about it? Been a while since we had any strange cunt, hasn't it? He seated himself at the big old-fashioned desk again and resumed going through his papers. There was a lot of work to be straightened out before he left for Florida.
Every few minutes he would stop, however, and smile thoughtfully to himself at the way things were working out, falling into place. He had been trying for several seasons now to get Lauralee to move to Florida for the whole winter. She had proved stubborn on this point and so he had hit on the idea of saying the Doc wanted him to slow down. Actually, Doc's warning had been nowhere near as dire as he went around telling everyone. His blood pressure was up a little … he should eat less, drink less whiskey, quit smoking. As far as retiring, John Blodgett hadn't worked an honest day for years anyway, and why should he? If a man had some brains and used them, others would do the work and he could sit back and count the money. Take Ray Denham, now, he would work hard, save all his money, and someday he might own a crummy drugstore! Well, if that was his version of the American Dream, let him go after it.
He had been just as poor as Ray at the same age, and look at where he was now. Of course, the Blodgetts hadn't been hillbilly farmers, they were real old southern quality and that still counted for something in Quiggville. If he hadn't come from a good family, Lauralee's grandmother probably would have had their marriage annulled. She'd been only sixteen while he was twenty-four.
That was the year after the war was over, and he'd just got out of the army and had come home to Quiggville to draw his veteran's unemployment benefits while he looked around for something to do. The Quigg twins, Lee and Lauralee, had been children when he went away … now they were seniors in high school and most of the town gossip revolved around the twins. Parents dead and being raised by their grandmother, a fool if there ever was one. Set out to make Lauralee a southern belle who would have done credit to the Civil War days – innocent, ladylike, sheltered
– and naturally the girl had rebelled and turned out just the opposite. Wild! Smoking at thirteen, using words nobody could figure out where she'd learned, and from the age of about fourteen on, putting out to anything in pants. Lee, the boy, wasn't half as bad as his sister but they were both hellions. They were both spoiled rotten and when they turned sixteen that spring, Grandma had to rack her brains to come up with presents they didn't already have. She bought Lee a convertible and promised Lauralee a trip to Europe. But the girl didn't want to go to Europe, especially since she had to wait until graduation and then go along with Grandma. When her twin got a car, Lauralee was furious. Somewhere she picked up the basics of driving and was soon sneaking out in Lee's new car whenever she got the chance.
That Saturday night, John Blodgett had just come out of the theater and was standing at the curb. Quiggville's only traffic light turned red and he had started across the street when there was a squeal of brakes and a yellow fender dipped to a stop only inches from him. He started to swear, looked up, and the words died …
«Hi, John,» Lauralee said. «I'm sorry if I scared you,» she giggled. «It'd be awful to go through the war and then get killed right here on the square, wouldn't it?» She was staring at him with undisguised admiration … he was wearing his tropical-weight uniform and the pocket was crowded with his battle ribbons. The two of them were suddenly a pair of animals, sniffing at the warm flower-perfumed night air in search of excitement. «Can I give you a ride someplace?» her little red lips parted expectantly.
He got into the car beside her, conscious even then that this might be a momentous evening although he did not know that it was going to change the whole course of his life.
Everything he had heard about Lauralee turned out to be true, and then some. He couldn't believe she was only sixteen, no teenager could possibly acquire the knowledge that was packed into her lithe, hundred- pound body! They had gone directly to a roadhouse a few miles out of town, where Lauralee insisted on having beer. Evidently she'd also had something to drink before picking him up … she was not drunk, but pretty high. They sat side by side in a booth and suddenly he felt her warm hand on his thigh, moving purposefully upward until it stopped in the «vee» of his legs, cupping his balls. Jesus H. Christ! He nearly choked on his beer as he felt her fingers working down there at his loins … did she know what she was doing to him? A glance at her face with its wicked little cat-like smile told him that she did. She leaned over and put her lips against his left ear. «Ooooh, Johnny, have you got a big cock?»
He couldn't have answered her, his heart was beating clear up in his throat like a hammer. So he put his hand down over hers and drew her fingers upward. By God, his cock felt like it was bigger than it ever had been or was ever going to be again … it was throbbing like crazy and ramming against his pants like it was trying to get free … and into her hot little pussy.
«Oh, Lord,» she squealed as her hand closed over him, «it is big, Johnny! Now, what are we going to do about that?»
«It's your fault,» he told her, «I guess you better figure it out.»
«You mean you don't kn-o-o-w?» she drawled in a teasing voice, squeezing his penis and massaging it up and down until he thought he'd go off right there and then.
«You little cock-tease!» he growled, shoving his hand between her legs. Her thighs were smooth and warm and they clamped together over his invading hand, then very gradually opened to allow him to push farther up the forbidden split until his fingers encountered her panties. Blodgett remembered feeling that maybe somebody ought to pinch him and wake him up … this had to be a dream, sitting here with the Lauralee Quigg … feeling each other up in full view of anyone who wanted to look and be God-damned if he could tell which of the two of them was the hottest. Lauralee's eyes had a glazed look and she was breathing fast and jerky … «Shall we get out of here?» he whispered.
«Yes!» she wiggled away from his obscenely probing fingers just as they slid under the tight elastic legband of her pants. She stood up and he had hastily thrown some money on the table and followed her. Lauralee had insisted on driving, but instead of taking to the highway she simply drove behind the roadhouse, right into a field. He thought the car would hang up in the soft earth, but she spun it under a big tree and right there is where they did it. He had wanted to put the top up in the convertible but Lauralee was too eager to wait … he smiled faintly, recalling that zippers were new in those days and the pants of his uniform had a button fly. Lauralee had the buttons undone in seconds, and she took his aching cock out.
«Oh, Johnny!» her voice was awed, «it is big. Lord, I never saw one like that … you'll kill me with it!» and she had bent over him, her long golden hair falling over his genitals, brushing against his heavily loaded balls while she kissed the tip of his penis and then ran her little pink tongue all around it like she was licking an ice cream cone. Groaning with his desire to get into this incredible little witch, he tore at her dress … pulling it down to expose her youthful breasts with their high, pointed contours and virginal tiny nipples. Then he pushed her skirt up until her clothing was all bunched around her waist and the lower half of her sensuous body was exposed too, the brief panties starkly white against her slim tanned legs. Lauralee released his swollen rod from her warm wet mouth and scuttled backward on the car seat to a reclining position, her legs raised. Panting, almost sobbing, she helped him pull the panties off.
«Christ, Lauralee, you're beautiful!» he exclaimed huskily as he stared down hungrily at her nakedly exposed pussy. The pink cuntal slit nestled, almost concealed, beneath her short curling golden pubic hair. «Oh, hurry, hurry,» she was begging him, «I'm so hot I can't stand it!» and she took his lust-swollen cock in her hands and guided it toward her tiny cunt-hole. She had whimpered when he burst through the tight muscular ring, but had quickly become use to the bulk of him inside her and he had been too aroused by her wanton eagerness to exercise any caution or restraint. He had fucked Lauralee Quigg mercilessly, as if she had been a common whore and, God, she had loved it. Sixteen years old! He could have gone to jail for the things he did to her that night in the car … well, if it came to that he reckoned he could have gone to jail for a lot of things he'd done in his life. John Blodgett grinned humorously.
It had been very late when they had finally satiated each other and got their clothes straightened. Again, she had wanted to drive and he figured she was sober enough, although still a rotten driver. They were coming into the outskirts of town, down in the colored section, when it happened.
The streets were quite deserted, so that the last thing they expected was a white figure looming up suddenly in the headlights. Lauralee had jerked the wheel, but the right fender had hit the white object. The impact was so slight … yet it hurled the figure several yards ahead and it crumpled against the curb. Lauralee kept on going, gripping the steering wheel tightly.
«What was it?» she cried.
He had tried to get her to stop, to go back. «I think it was a woman … a colored woman.» She just kept on driving.
«S-she stepped out in the road! You saw her, Johnny! I-I haven't got a driver's license.»
Luckily for both of them, he had kept his head. He told her again to stop and then he got behind the wheel. They did not go back to see about the woman, instead he went to his home and put the car in his vacant garage, his mother hadn't had an auto since the war. There was only a small dent in the fender, but to be sure he got several buckets of water and washed that side of the car very carefully. Then he drove Lauralee home. When they turned in between the brick gateposts at the entrance to the Quigg farm, John Blodgett deliberately scraped the right fender, crumpling it slightly and leaving yellow paint on the bricks. He explained to Lauralee that this was necessary to explain the damage, and that he would pay to have the car repaired.
It turned out that the victim was an aged colored woman with no relatives, and so not too much fuss was ever made about finding the hit-and-run driver. The state police did check on cars that required body work after the date of the accident, but readily accepted the explanation of the damage to Lee Quigg's convertible. And the following week, on the night of Lauralee's graduation from high school, she and John Blodgett eloped to Mississippi and were married.
The marriage had worked out well. Perhaps Lauralee's grandmother had seen that Blodgett was a strong enough man to handle her wayward granddaughter as well as guide Lee Quigg in running the various family enterprises. He had insisted that as his wife, Lauralee should conduct her sexual affairs with more discretion although he was aware that a woman with her insatiable appetites could not remain faithful to any one man. Well, he had his own appetites, by God, and he hadn't done too badly over the years either! If theirs had been the conventional marriage it would never have lasted, but he was smart enough to see that Lauralee was like a horse with the bit in its teeth – let her have her head and run, and she would come right back to the stable when the fun was over. No, he would never divorce her – for one thing, the Quigg family holdings were the base that lay under the considerable fortune Blodgett had built up – the real estate, the bank and the saw mill all contributed handsomely. The drugstore was only something he had bought up cheap, on a whim, mainly to get the building. He had no real interest in it and would be glad to see it go, once it had provided the cash for the sea-front apartment in Florida.
Whistling cheerfully, he selected the papers he wanted and placed them in his briefcase. Then he locked the others away in the desk and snapped his fingers at Duke. The well-trained animal rose immediately and padded silently out of the office with his master.
Blodgett entered the bank, nodding and speaking to various patrons as he made his way to the rear and walked directly into his brother-in- law's office without announcing himself. The room was far more sumptuously furnished than Blodgett's dusty office upstairs, so that anyone who did not know better might suppose that Lee Quigg was the more important of the two men. However, in his dealings, it suited the crafty Blodgett to retain his poor-boy-makes-good image – the local people trusted him because it seemed like he was really one of them. He seated himself on the massive brocaded couch and drew up a silver ashtray. «Hi, Lee. You doin' all right?»
«Can't complain,» his brother-in-law said mildly, swiveling his leather armchair around to face Blodgett, who wasted no time in getting to the point.
«Ray Denham is gonna be over here one of these days to see you about a loan – he wants to buy the store, only he hasn't got any money.»
«Well, are you selling to him?»
«Hell, no, you know that other deal is all wrapped up. But here's what I want you to do – stall him. Tell him all the usual … the Board has to approve all the loans … just stall him for a while, be nice to him.»
Quigg went to the concealed mahogany bar and made them each a drink. Handing one glass to John Blodgett, he said, «Can I ask why? Why don't you tell him right off that it's no deal? Ray isn't a bad guy, John.»
«That wife of his isn't bad, either,» Blodgett remarked with a low chuckle. «How would you like to get in there, Lee? You want to throw a good fuck into that stuck-up bitch, Sally Denham?»
Lee Quigg's thin, nervous face quickened with anticipation. «What you talkin' about, John? She wouldn't give either one of us the time of day.»
«Like to put a little money on that?» the older man was an inveterate bettor, but as his wife's twin knew, Blodgett didn't bet unless the odds were heavily loaded in his favor … but Sally Denham? The piano teacher? This time he was overreaching. Blodgett saw the doubt and indecision of Lee's expression. «Five'll get you ten,» he prompted, «that I can lay her … and after I get her reamed out good, she's all yours!» He leaned back and sipped his bourbon, smiling.