dk.nightchills-第24节

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　〃How　could　that　be？〃
　Sighing；　she　said；　〃Sometimes　I　think　he　should　have　spent　less　time　making　my　childhood　happy　and　more　time　preparing　me　for　the　real　world。〃
　〃Oh；　I　don't　know　about　that。　Happiness　is　a　rare　modity　in　this　life。　Don't　knock　it。　Grab　every　minute　of　it　that's　offered　to　you；　and　don't　look　back。〃
　She　shook　her　head；　unconvinced。　〃I　was　too　na？ve。　A　regular　Pollyanna。　Right　up　through　my　wedding　day。〃
　〃A　bad　marriage　can　happen　to　anybody；　wise　or　innocent。〃
　〃Certainly。　But　the　wise　aren't　shattered　by　it。〃
　His　hand　moved　in　lazy　circles　on　her　belly。
　She　liked　the　way　he　touched　her。　Already；　she　wanted　him　again。
　He　said；　〃If　you　can　analyze　yourself　this　way；　you　can　overe　your　hang…ups。　You　can　forget　the　past。〃
　〃Oh；　I　can　forget　him　all　right。　My　husband。　No　trouble；　given　time。　And　not　much　time　at　that。〃
　〃Well　then？〃
　〃I'm　not　innocent　anymore。　God　knows；　I'm　not。　But　na？ve？　I'm　not　sure　a　person　can　bee　a　cynic　overnight。　Or　even　a　realist。〃
　〃We'd　be　perfect　together；〃　he　said；　touching　her　breasts。　〃I'm　certain　of　it。〃
　〃At　times　I'm　certain　of　it　too。　And　that's　what　I　distrust　about　it…the　certainty。〃
　〃Marry　me；〃　he　said。
　〃How　did　we　get　around　to　this　again？〃
　〃I　asked　you　to　marry　me。〃
　〃I　don't　want　to　be　set　up　for　another　fall。〃
　〃I'm　not　setting　you　up。〃
　〃Not　intentionally。〃
　〃You　can't　live　without　taking　risks。〃
　〃I　can　try。〃
　〃It'll　be　a　lonely　life。〃
　She　made　a　face　at　him。　〃Let's　not　spoil　the　day。〃
　〃It's　not　spoiled　for　me。〃
　〃Well；　it　will　be　for　me　soon；　if　we　don't　change　the　subject。〃
　〃What　could　we　talk　about　that's　more　important　than　this？〃　She　grinned。　〃You　seem　fascinated　with　my　tits。　Want　to　talk　about　those？〃
　〃Jenny；　be　serious。〃
　〃I　am　being　serious。　I　think　my　tits　are　fascinating。　I　could　spend　hours　talking　about　them。〃
　〃You're　impossible。〃
　〃Okay；　okay。　If　you　don't　want　to　talk　about　my　tits；　we　won't　talk　about　them；　lovely　as　they　are。　Instead…we'll　talk　about　your　prick。〃
　〃Jenny…〃
　〃I'd　like　to　taste　it。〃
　As　she　spoke　the　soft　center　of　him　swelled　and　grew　hard。
　〃Defeated　by　biology；〃　she　said。　〃You're　a　minx。〃
　She　laughed　and　started　to　sit　up。　He　pushed　her　back。
　〃I　want　to　taste　it；〃　she　said。　〃Later。〃
　〃Now。〃
　〃I　want　to　get　you　off　first。〃　〃And　do　you　always　get　your　way？〃　〃I　will　this　time。　I'm　bigger　than　you。〃　〃Male　chauvinist。〃
　〃If　you　say　so。〃　He　kissed　her　nipples；　shoulders；　hands；　her
　navel　and　thighs。　He　rubbed　his　nose　gently　back　and　forth　in　the　crinkled　hair　at　the　base　of　her　belly。
　A　shiver　passed　through　her。　She　said；　〃You're　right。　A　woman　should　have　her　pleasure　first。〃
　He　lifted　his　head　and　smiled　at　her。　He　had　a　charming；　almost　boyish　smile。　His　eyes　were　so　clear；　so　blue；　and　so　warm　that　she　felt　as　if　she　were　being　absorbed　by　them。
　What　a　delightful　man　you　are；　she　thought　as　the　voices　of　the　mountain　faded　away　and　her　heartbeat　replaced　them。　So　beautiful；　so　desirable；　so　tender　for　a　man。　So　very　tender。
　The　house　was　on　Union　Road；　one　block　from　the　town　square。　A　white　frame　bungalow。　Nicely　kept。　Windows　trimmed　in　green　with　matching　shutters。　Railed　front　porch　with　bench　swing　and　glider　and　bright　green　floor。　Latticework　festooned　with　ivy　at　one　end　of　the　porch；　a　wall　of　lilac　bushes　at　the　other　end。　Brick　walkway　with　borders　of　marigolds　on　each　side。　A　white　ceramic　birdbath　ringed　with　petunias。　According　to　the　sign　that　hung　on　a　decorative　lamppost　at　the　end　of　the　walk；　the　house　belonged　to　〃The　Macklins。〃
　At　one　o'clock　that　afternoon；　Salsbury　climbed　the　three　steps　to　the　porch。　He　was　carrying　a　clipboard　with　a　dozen　sheets　of　paper　fixed　to　it。　He　rang　the　bell。
　Bees　hummed　in　the　lilac　leaves。
　The　woman　who　opened　the　door　surprised　him。　Perhaps　because　of　the　flowers　that　had　been　planted　everywhere　and　because　of　the　pristine　condition　of　the　property　that　seemed　the　work　of　a　singularly　fussy　person；　he　had　expected　the　Macklins　to　be　an　elderly　couple。　A　skinny　pair　who　liked　to　putter　in　their　gardens；　who　had　no　grandchildren　to　spend　their　time　with；　who　would　stare　suspiciously　at　him　over　the　rims　of　their　bifocals。　However；　the　woman　who　answered　the　bell　was　in　her　middle　twenties；　a　slender　blonde　with　the　kind　of　face　that　looked　good　in　magazine　advertisements　for　cosmetics。　She　was　tall；　five　eight　or　nine；　not　delicate　but　feminine；　as　leggy　as　a　chorus　girl。　She　was　wearing　dark　blue　shorts　and　a　blue…and…
　white　polka…dot　halter　top。　Even　through　the　screen　door；　he　could　see　that　her　body　was　well　proportioned；　firm；　resilient；　better　than　any　he　had　ever　touched。
　As　usual；　confronted　with　a　woman　like　one　of　those　who　had　peopled　his　fantasies　all　of　his　adult　life；　he　was　unsettled。　He　stared　at　her　and　licked　his　lips　and　couldn't　think　of　a　damned　thing　to　say。
　〃Can　I　help　you？〃
　He　cleared　his　throat。　〃My　name's…Albert　Deighton。　I've　been　in　town　since　last　Friday。　I　don't　know　if　you　heard　。
　I'm　doing　some　research。　Sociological　research。　I've　been　talking　to　people…〃
　〃I　know；〃　she　said。　〃You　were　next　door　at　the　Solomans'　yesterday　afternoon。〃
　〃That's　right。〃　Although　the　sun　was　hot　and　the　air　heavy；　he　hadn't　perspired　during　any　of　the　first　three　interviews　of　the　day；　but　now　he　felt　beads　of　sweat　spring　up　on　his　forehead。　〃I'd　like　to　talk　with　you　and　Mr。　Mackin；　if　you　can　spare　me　the　time。　Half　an　hour　ought　to　be　enough。　There　are　about　a　hundred　questions…〃
　〃I'm　sorry；〃　she　said。　〃My　husband　isn't　home。　He　works　up　at　the　mill　on　the　day　shift。　He　won't　be　home　till　five　thirty。〃
　He　looked　at　his　clipboard　for　something　to　do。　〃I　can　always　catch　him　some　other　time。　If　I　could　interview　you　and　the　children　now；　get　that　out　of　the　way…〃
　〃Oh；　we've　only　been　married　a　year。　We　haven't　any　kids。〃
　〃Newlyweds。〃
　〃Just　about。〃　She　smiled。　She　had　dimples。
　He　felt　as　if　he　were　being　dragged　along　in　a　dangerous　current；　swept　inexorably　toward　a　decision　that　could　destroy　him。　〃Is　there　anyone　else　living　here？　A　relative？〃
　〃Just　Richie　and　me。〃
　〃Richie's　your　husband？〃
　〃That's　right。〃
　Last　Friday；　in　Ultman's　Cafe；　he　had　risked　exposing　the　entire　project　by　using　the　code　phrase　to　play　with　that　waitress　who　looked　like　Miriam。　He　had　gotten　away　with　it；　but　he
　knew　he　was　a　fool　to　allow　his　emotions　to　overwhelm　him　like　that。　As　penance　for　his　behavior；　he　was　far　more　cautious　on　Saturday　and　Sunday　than　he　needed　to　be。　He　used　the　code　phrase　two　dozen　times；　interviewing　the　subjects　in　detail；　searching　for　weak　spots　in　their　obedient　mode；　but　he　never　approached　one　of　them　if　there　was　the　slimmest　chance　of　discovery。　Some　of　the　women　had　been　attractive；　and　he　could　have　used　them　any　way　he　wanted。　But　he　had　restrained　himself。　Having　tasted　total　dominance　when　he　opened　Alice；　that　bitch　waitress；　with　the　code；　he　was　anxious　to　make　one　of　them　undress　and　get　down　on　the　floor　before　him。　Damned　anxious。　And　this　one；　standing　there　in　shorts　and　halter；　seemed　to　radiate　heat　that　evaporated　his　will　power　and　his　caution。　He　wanted　to　believe　that；　unlike　the　episode　at　the　café；　this　situation　contained　no　threat；　and　wanting　to　believe　was　the　first　step　toward　convincing　himself。
　〃I　am　the　key。〃
　〃I　am　the　lock。〃
　Relieved；　he　wiped　his　brow。　〃Are　you　alone？〃
　〃Yes。〃
　He　began　to　tremble；　not　with　fear　but　with　excitement。　〃Are　you　expecting　anyone？〃
　〃No。　No　one。〃
　〃Is　anyone　expecting　you？　Were　you　planning　to　go　visiting？〃
　〃No。〃
　〃Let　me　in。〃
　She　pushed　open　the　screen　door。
　He　stepped　past　her　into　the　air…conditioned　foyer。　There　was　an　oval　mirror　and　accessory　table　on　the　right；　a　small　painting　of　a　storm…tossed　sailing　ship　on　his　left。　〃Close　the　door。　And　lock　it。〃
　She　did　as　she　was　told。
　A　short　corridor；　containing　two　more　paintings　of　sailing　ships；　led　from　the　foyer　to　the　kitchen。
　On　the　left　the　living　room　opened　to　the　hail　through　an　archway。　It　was　neatly　furnished。　An　oriental　carpet。　Two　Crushed　velvet　sofas　and　a　slate…topped　coffee　table　arranged　to
　form　a　conversation　corner。　Matching　crushed…velvet　drapes　at　the　three　windows。　A　magazine　rack。　A　gun　case。　Two　Stiffel　lamps。　To　harmonize　with　the　carpet；　the　paintings　were　of　Western　sailing　ships　docked　in　Chinese　harbors。
　〃Draw　the　drapes；〃　he　said。
　She　went　from　window　to　window；　then　came　back　to　the　center　of　the　room。　She　stood　with　her　hands　at　her　sides；　staring　at　him；　a　half…smile　on　her　face。
　She　was　waiting。　'Waiting　for　orders。　His　orders。　She　was　his　puppet；　his　slave。
　For　more　than　a　minute　he　stood　in　the　archway；　unable　to　move；　unable　to　decide　what　he　should　do　next。　Immobilized　by　fear；　anticipation；　and　the　grip　of　lust　that　made　his　groin　ache　almost　unpleasantly；　he　was　nevertheless　sweating　as　if　he　had　just　run　the　mile。　She　was　his。　Entirely　his：　her　mouth；　breasts；　ass；　legs；　cunt；　every　inch　and　fold　of　her。　Better　than　that；　there　was　no　need　for　him　to　worry　about　whether　or　not　he　pleased　her。　The　only　consideration　was　his　own　pleasure。　If　he　told　her　that　she　loved　it；　she　would　love　it。　No