Brushing the tears from her face, Jennifer knelt beside Jud. Moaning, he pushed himself up onto one elbow trying to overcome the vertigo and nausea he felt.
"Are… are you all right?" Jennifer asked weakly.
"Yeah, I think… so. Just sorta punchdrunk, I guess. Are you okay? I mean… did they hurt you?" he asked, looking up at her, grief and guilt merging in his eyes.
"No, the… the big one was cruel and rough but she trailed off, dropping her eyes from his.
"I'm sorry, baby. But there wasn't anything I could do," he said, asking her to understand.
"I know. Nothing anybody could do. So ugly. Why… why do men want to do that? To just… masturbate with a woman, with no… no joy… no love, just using a person like a tissue they'd blow their nose on. So empty. Why, Jud? Why!" she suddenly demanded, near hysteria.
"I don't know, Jen. I… maybe they don't like women really, but just can't admit it to themselves. I don't know," he trailed off, shaken by her heaving shoulders and her sobs. He reached out to touch her shoulder comfortingly, to embrace her against the world, but she recoiled as if a snake had touched her. Jud blinked, shaken, his hand still extended. His lips parted to ask what was wrong, but he said nothing, silenced by the burning anger in her wide eyes.
"I… I only…" he faltered helplessly.
She stared at him for a moment, and then her eyes changed as if realizing who he was, that it was not John's hand come to defile her again. She pressed her fingers to her temples and shook her head.
"I… I'm sorry, Jud. I…"
"It's okay, baby," he said, his eyes probing for some explanation. "Do you want to go back into town?"
"Yes. Away from here," she nodded and stood, stumbling back to where her clothes lay in the sand.
Jud watched her for a moment and then painfully stood. She turned her back to him and quickly dressed, and Jud felt as if his knees were being kicked out from under him, as if the last shreds of happiness and hope were being torn from his grasp. With a dead, hollow feeling he dressed. Silently, they returned to his car.
The drive was tortuously long with silence. Jennifer sat next to the door, staring into the night. Jud glanced at her, but did not know what words to say, or if there were words. Finally, they pulled to a stop in front of her house and she opened the door.
"Jen, I… Do you want to do anything about… call the police or…?" he asked, feeling that he should.
"No!" she snapped, then immediately calmed. "No, he was right. What good would it do? It'd only drag this out. Good night, Jud. I wish… I wish my head wasn't so messed up. Night." And the door was closed and she was walking swiftly toward her door.
Jud watched the door shut behind her. Was it all over between them? Did she blame him for taking her to the isolated beach in the first place, for not being able to defend her, for simply being a male like their attackers? His head still ached from the blows and the emotional devastation of seeing her attacked, of having her turn away from him in her distress rather than to him for comfort, had all left him exhausted. Wearily, he started the car and drove away.
Jennifer sat on the edge of her bed, glad that her mother had already gone to sleep and, for once, glad that her father was not at home. It seemed as if she should be able to confide in her mother, be offered her comfort. But she was alone. There was no one. No one to trust, no one to believe, no one to love. The world had become a dark tunnel seeking to swallow her in nothingness.
Her hands clinched in her lap, she looked at the vanity mirror before her. Was she different now? Could someone tell by just looking at her that a degenerate had wiped himself on her? Everything had changed so quickly, her feelings about herself and everything apart from her.
She felt dirty, soiled as her clothing. Pulling them off with distaste, she flung the clothes onto the floor of her closet, planning, to throw them away the next day, not wanting to ever see them again much less feel them against her flesh. Wrapping herself in a towel, she went into the bathroom to shower, to try to bathe away what she felt inside.
From his window next door, Winslow watched Jennifer strip and go into the bathroom. Yet, he felt no joy at the sight of her body. He knew something was wrong. Her vacant manner, her repulsion with her clothing, the severed bra, the absence of panties and her shaky walk all indicated that someone had attacked her, had hurt her more than physically. Was it her boyfriend, he wondered with sadness and anger. No, it seemed unlikely.
Winslow turned away from the view. He felt like her father. He wanted to kill whoever the man or men were. But he could not even comfort her, could not let her free her fears and memories to his ear, could not avenge her. He felt helpless, and a little older, as if her robbed innocence had been partly his.
In his own bedroom, Jud sat with much the same feelings. Yet, he knew the details, knew the face of the men. It was a large city in which two people might never meet even if the men lived there, but he knew if he ever saw one of them he would live only long enough to lead him to the other. Jud was not a violent person, did not believe in violence as a solution, but he knew with certainty that he would not be able to restrain himself if the opportunity arose. They had brutalized the woman he loved and turned her against him, and that aroused something beyond rational response. As much as he wanted to beat the two of them to death, he also hoped that he would never see them again and thus could not have the opportunity. He did not want to be a murderer, he just wanted justice.
The next morning, Monday, Jennifer did not come to school and, when Jud phoned, her mother told him that she was feeling ill and could not come to the phone. Tuesday, he sat in front of the sprawl of the high school waiting for her. Just before the bell her mother dropped her off and she walked toward him, her eyes on the sidewalk.
"Jen, are you feeling better?" he asked, standing to walk alongside her.
She glanced at him with a forced smile, nodded, and continued on as before. Jud stopped at his classroom door and watched her move down the crowded hallway as if sleep walking, unaware that he was no longer at her side. Depressed, he went into the room to sit through that class, his mind elsewhere, seeking escape from his depression.
The rest of the week showed no change in her state of mind, and when they went out Saturday night there were only awkward silences, and Jud's dread that she would recoil if he touched her. After he took her home, he decided that he would not approach her again, seeing no benefits for either of them and only pain for him.
Winslow Bass left the blinds closed in his bedroom, wishing to spare himself of the sight of Jennifer in her present state.
Gloria Dallas passed Jennifer's silent staring off as a teenager's dreaminess, perhaps afraid to seek the explanation.
And Jennifer sat alone with a sense of emptiness and belief in the futility of finding order once again.
On Thursday of that week, Jud had stood to leave his Government class, the hour having passed without his attention.
"Jud?"
"Yes," Miss Bastrop?" he answered, startled from his thoughts of Jennifer.
"I'd like to talk with you about the test you took Monday," Gillian Bastrop said.
"Yes, ma'am," Jud nodded hesitantly.
"I'm afraid you failed it, Jud. Quite badly too. Your average so far is a low C. If you should do badly on the next test and the final… well, I'm afraid you might flunk the course. And as a graduating senior, I'm sure you don't want to have to go to summer school, do you?" she asked with concern.
"No, ma'am," Jud exhaled deeply. Didn't he have troubles enough without his grades going too, he wondered.
"Well, if you just blew off studying for this one test, you shouldn't have too much trouble. But if the material's giving you trouble…? Is it?"
"I, uh, my mind just hasn't been on it, I guess," he muttered nervously.
"Yes, all right. If you should need some help I'll do what I can," she offered. "Being tutored isn't much fun, but it can be better than spending the summer in a classroom."
"Thanks, Miss Bastrop. If I get bogged down, I'll call or something," he smiled foolishly.
"Fine. My number's in the teacher's directory. You can go now, Jud," she smiled at his awkwardness.
He nodded and left the room. Gillian watched him and then stood, walking to the windows of the empty classroom. Twenty-five years old, Gillian had been teaching high school classes as a full-time teacher for two years, taking graduate courses during the summers. She was slightly tall with a lithe fullness to her body. Light freckles and an olive complexion gave her flesh a warm, sultry glow. Auburn hair framed a face of symmetrical features beautiful in their simplicity. Only her heavily lidded green eyes, and her full lips stood out in their uncommon beauty, emphasized by the soft contours of cheek and forehead.
She wore her hair tied back, dressed in modest skirts and blouses, and wore her glasses which she needed only or long reading, while teaching. She did not become homely or unattractive, but her beauty was muted and, thus, the attentions of her male pupils was kept from wandering from their books When she had started, as a student-teacher, several days were always spent with the boys staring warmly at her, their interest in Government completely buried.
Standing at the window she watched Jud disappear in the parking lot amongst the other youths, and smiled at her memory, for she found herself wanting Jud's attention. She knew she was being foolish, but there was something about him that appealed greatly to her apart from her relation to him as a teacher.
Though men often were attracted to her, she seldom felt a responsive emotion. Alex was only the third or fourth man she had ever met that she truly wanted to be with. And he was in Europe. An engineer, he had taken a year's assignment working in Italy, telling her that he was not sure if he was ready to settle down, and that he felt the time apart would answer the question for both of them. But he had been gone almost nine months, and though she had been able to involve herself with school work during that time, the summer was quickly approaching and he had yet to indicate a decision in his letters.
She loved him and missed him, and hoped that he would return to her. In the meantime, though, her desires had lain unquenched at least until she had seen Jud at the beginning of the spring semester.
The boyish innocence of his eyes combined with clean, chiseled features and the man's body had quickly brought him to her eye. Yet, she had neither done nor said anything, merely using him as a visual focus for her passions. Then at the beginning of the week something had changed in him. The eyes were still open to dreams and quests, but there was a sadness about them. As well, some of the lines around his eyes seemed tighter. It was as if he had suddenly had a man's world thrust upon him. The combination of boyish inexperience and honesty mixed with the body and sense of experience of a man was overpowering.
While he had stared at the floor as they spoke, she had for the first time allowed her eyes to linger upon the full crotch of his jeans. She had wanted to embrace him, to feel his knowing yet gentle hands, to see his face above hers, opened to the assault of a climax within her. She had, of course, known this to be but a fantasy that would only confuse him and probably end her teaching career. Thus, she had spoken consolingly about his grades. Yet, she had indirectly invited him to her home under the pretext of tutoring. Would he accept the offer, or realize its implication? For that matter, would she pursue her desires if he did come to her home?
She did not know, but only wondered. She wished that Alex was with her, to eliminate the temptation. But he was not. And Jud made her fully aware that she was a beautiful woman without even looking at her or speaking to her.
As Jud stood talking to Gillian, Jennifer walked listlessly from the school. She stopped at the street with its sudden rush of student traffic and looked about as if to note where she was and decide where she was going.
"Jen, how are you?" a girl's voice asked from behind.
Jen slowly turned with little interest to note who had spoken. Before her stood Deena Marlowe, hair black as night falling over her shoulders, large blue eyes shining from a heart shaped face, full breasts pressing at her velveteen blouse, and long legs extending from a skirt as short as the school allowed.
"Deena," Jennifer said with a trace of surprise. She and Deena had been best friends from grade school through junior high. They had shared the secrets of their infatuations, had pasted photos of rock and roll stars into scrapbooks together, had stood outside hotels to catch glimpses of those stars, and yet had somehow grown apart.
Even as it had happened, neither had quite understood it. Jennifer had relished in the desire for the distant glamour of the stars while Deena had wanted to go to bed with them. Deena was bored with her parents while Jennifer sadly longed for hers to be closer. Deena had become buoyant, flashing her attractiveness, eager for excitement, change, the denied. Jennifer had remained basically shy and uncertain. The growing drug scene had automatically aroused Deena's interests, while making Jennifer wary. Thus, their interests began to differ and they saw less of one another. Then Deena had started popping "reds" and shooting speed. Jennifer knew the inherent dangers to health and life, expressed her fears for her friend to no avail, and they had lost contact. Over the past year they had seen each other now and then, but their greetings were brief and distant.
Now the sight of Deena pleased her. She was a part of the happy, uncomplicated, free times. At that moment, she did not care about their different views and tastes. Jennifer saw something to respond to, a person to talk to. She smiled with relief.
"How've you been doing?" Deena asked.
"Well… Okay, I guess," she said quickly, not wanting to talk about recent events at the moment, but to leap back into the past. What about you?"
"Fine. Stopped doing speed and pills. Just smoke a little grass. Guess I sowed my wild oats," she grinned.
"I'm glad to know that, Deena. Really, I am," Jennifer nodded.
"Say, do you need a ride? I've got my car, and we can rap, or even go out to my place if you want."
"Your place?" Jennifer asked in surprise.
"Yeah, the parents had enough of me and vice versa. But not wanting to look bad in front of their friends, they just gave me the run of the beach house and houseboat I'm the caretaker," she laughed. "Come on."
Jennifer stood a moment and then followed to catch up. Deena opened the door of a Mustang and the two got in. They pulled into traffic and Deena turned on the radio.
"Wow, it really seems like a long time, you know," she said thoughtfully. "A lot of things've gone down. And up," she smiled.
"Yeah. Aren't you lonesome out there by yourself?"
"At the beach house? Nah, it's a gas. Swim buck naked if I want, don't worry about disturbing anybody if I play records loud, and only me to answer to. Matter of fact it gave me time to get my head together and see that gettin' a rush, gettin' high wasn't worth being dead."
"Maybe that's what I need," Jennifer said more to herself than to Deena.
"You having troubles, Jen"
"I… sort of."
"Don't want to talk about it?"
"Not right now. Later, yes. But right now, I guess I just want to remember old times."
"Sure," Deena nodded. "Get us some rocking chairs, couple o' corn cob pipes and sit out on the front porch," she laughed.
"Yeah," Jennifer smiled for the second time that week.
They drove to Jennifer's house, happily discussing their junior high escapades. Gloria protested briefly against Jennifer spending the weekend at Deena's, but she was expecting her husband back in town and, thus, the idea of having the house to themselves appealed to her. As well, she did not realize that Deena was no longer living with her parents.
Deena helped Jennifer pack a small bag and they drove out toward the sea. For a moment, Jennifer felt sudden apprehension, but quickly realized that they were not going to the deserted beach but, rather, to a house with a phone, and lights, and locks on the doors.
Deena parked the ear In the garage and locked it, leading Jennifer down the stone steps behind the house to the inlet where the house boat was docked.
"The house gets kinda creepy its so big, but the house boat's a groove, feeling the ocean under you all the time," Deena said as she unlocked it. She stepped aside, waving Jennifer in the bow.
"It's really nice,' Jennifer said, looking at the kitchenette, bathroom, stereo, king sized mattress on the floor, and a glass bottomed portion of the floor.
"Yeah," Deena agreed. "Don't know about you, but I'm ready for a swim after all that driving and school," Deena said and began to unbutton her blouse.
Jennifer blinked, and then nodded, relaxing. She unzipped the back of her dress and stepped out of it. Pulling her blouse off, Deena slid the glass door open, pushing the drapes back. The ocean lay spread before them, the next house distant. Jennifer checked her hands at the clasp of her bra a moment, and then realized that there were only sea gulls to see them.
Her back to her, Deena let her skirt fall around her ankles. Her bra and panties followed and she disappeared down the walkway from Jennifer's sight.
"Come on," Deena called, and Jennifer heard the splash of her hitting water.
Jennifer stripped her clothes off and stepped out onto the walkway. Deena's head broke water, a cascade gleaming in the sunlight as she whipped her hair up and behind her. Jennifer followed her and the two swam happily about, the sun warm on their naked flesh.
Flushed and winded, Jennifer at last pulled herself up onto the boat, pushing her wet hair away from her face. Moisture shimmered on the smooth contours of her breasts with their flower petal nipples, along the supple curve of her belly, and in the copper coils between her thighs.
Deena followed a few minutes later, grabbing the rail opening and lifting herself up to her feet. Jennifer noted the firm globes of her breasts with their pinkish nipples tight from the cold water, the narrow waist, and the sun glazed droplets that clung to the water smoothed, ebony pelt between her firm thighs. How attractive she must be to men, Jennifer thought, feeling inadequate in contrast.
Yet, if Jennifer found her body inadequate in comparison to Deena's in that brief, encompassing glance, Deena did not view Jennifer in that light. She saw the beauty in the sweeping curve from just below Jennifer's breasts down to her thighs complemented by the under swell of her buttocks, and saw the corresponding inward curve from the tops of her saucy nether cheeks up into the small of her back to trail off just below her shoulder blades, ending at the same point down her body as did her breasts. She saw the wide cushions of her breasts with the soft pink caps of her aureole and the tiny nibs of her nipples. She noted the flaxen foils shining wetly and the youthful legs.
Though she looked at Jennifer's body appreciatively, Deena concealed her inspection. When they had begun to change, to go in different directions, Deena had made no effort to reunite them because a difference that Jennifer had not been aware of was a sexual one.
Deena had become aware that as certain men were sexually attractive to her so were certain women. Being bisexual did not disturb her, but she knew that it would have disturbed Jennifer. And the woman she most desired was Jennifer, and if the knowledge of her thoughts would have shocked her, Deena giving physical expression to that desire would have ended their friendship, perhaps for ever.
Not wanting to mar their years of happy memories and not wanting to offend her friend, Deena had restrained herself. Now, standing beside her, the both of them nude and Jennifer more beautiful to her eyes then before, she felt the desire rise again, all the stronger.
Would Jen still be shocked and fearful, Deena wondered. If so, could she call up the same restraint? Or had the experiences of the last few years hardened her? Had the masochistic hours spent in shooting galleries injecting methadrine and speed, into her veins with others left her less concerned with self-respect? Had balling for pills and needles left her with a cheapened view of sex?
Yes, was her answer, an answer she had found in solitude by the ocean. Those answers had turned her away from the way of life she had adopted, to retain and recapture things she knew to be more important.
The sun shone in Jennifer's drying hair, her eyes on the horizon, savoring the sudden relaxation from her tensions. Deena looked down at her and knew that she wanted her, but hoped that if she should make any advances that they would be accepted. She wanted Jennifer to remain her friend.