“Hi, nuthead,” he said, gathering her into his arms. “Why the rain act?”
“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Rain ran down her face. She licked at it with her tongue. “I haven’t walked in the rain in, oh, years.”
“Ever screwed in the rain?” He pinched her breast through the wet tricot bra which showed the outline of a nipple.
“No. You?”
“Come to think of it, no.” He was grinning. He was pleased. She looked better, happier, more herself than she had in weeks.
“Well?” she asked, giving him her sexiest look.
“You’re kidding.”
“All show and no go,” she said.
“A Ferrier never lets a dare go by,” he said, starting to strip the sodden clothing away from her.
Her healthy skin beaded the rain at first. He looked at her, entranced. His Gwen, the nut, the prude, was naked in the open, laughing in the rain. “Honey?” he asked. The sight of her turned him on.
“Yes,” she whispered through the rain. “Yes, darling.”
He couldn’t believe it. He made a mental note to leave his fortune to the study of psychiatry. He blessed Dr. Irving King as she clung and pulled. He giggled as he arranged their sodden clothing on the grass, and then it was a serious, beautiful thing, with a wildly responsive, willing, wanton woman, wanton just for him, loving his touch, and saying, “Ah, ah, ah,” with his penetration. George was a happy man. The union was quick, total, violently active. Finished, he saw love and laughter in her eyes, felt his own laugh overflowing.
“God, you’re silly,” she said, pushing him off and running, with him giving chase, to splash noisily into the rain-dimpled clear pond.
Inside, after a hot shower, a mutual rubdown with rough towels, a drink, and music on the player, he wondered if it were only a momentary release on her part, if she’d go back. As if in answer, she came to him, crawling into his lap as he sat in the big, gold chair. “George?”
“Ummm.”
“George.” A whisper, a sensual kiss on his cheek, a hand doing things Gwen’s hands had never done.
“Hey, am I in the right place?” He cringed. He shouldn’t have said it.
“You’re different.”
“Like it?”
“God, yes.”
He liked it. He liked it. His Gwen, the wanton, sexy, endlessly hungry woman. As the days went by and things didn’t change, he began to hope. At first, when indulging an old whim, such as making love in the big chair, he’d say, “Are you sure?” Then he forgot to ask. It was a fantastic week. George loved his new wife more than he’d ever, ever loved the old one. He was a happy man and she was happy and uninhibited and loving.
“I just don’t understand,” he said, making one last try to figure it out.
“I don’t either, really. It just came to me. All of a sudden I said, Gwen, that’s me, you know, you’re a big girl. He’s your husband and he loves you. Give, baby.” She giggled. “I find giving to be, frankly, one hell of a lot of fun.”
So he accepted it and was happy. He would be one happy fellow right up to the day he died.
10
Billy was working the inland side of the cut. Jock, his friend, was on the ocean side. There was a buildup of clouds to the west, indicating a short work day. Billy was rooting for the clouds. He’d had a rough night. First, he and Jock had stopped by a joint in Ocean City on the way home, punched a few coins into the juke for a couple of country-western goodies, shot a few games of bowling on the little game machine, and put away a few tall, cold Buds. Back at the trailer, Billy had been restless. Jock was out of it. He could hold his booze, but beer did him in and made him sleepy. He hit the sack just after dark, leaving Billy on his own. He considered calling the two sisters, and entertained a delightful vision of talking both of them into bed at one time. He had to walk all the way to the office to use the telephone. The aged, short, fat, wrinkled mother of the two sisters answered and said, rather curtly, that her daughters were not in. Billy said to hell with it and walked back down the line of trailers, kicking at the bare, white sand.
The Tennessee girl came out of her trailer just as he was out front. She had her bleached hair piled up high in a beehive. She wore slacks which showed the outline of her panties and the firmness of her fanny. Jesus, she was a piece.
“Evenin’,” Billy said, giving her his best smile.
“Hi yawl, Billy.” She was walking right toward him, her big set bouncing inside a little knit thing.
“Where you off to?” he asked, seeing that she was headed toward her new Ford. He stood in front of the car door to block her.
“Outta cigarettes,” she said. She was, he could tell, well aware of the fact that he was looking toward her with more than neighborly interest.
“Your old man get off to work?”
“Damn night shift,” she said.
“Might ride along with you, if you don’t mind,” Billy said.
She looked around. The evening was a hot one and everyone was inside, window air conditioners were roaring and pumping. “Well, I’m just going down to the store.”
He walked around and got in. He saw, when she sat down, that he’d been wrong. She had on a bra, after all. She just had a set so big that no bra could handle them, that was all. She smelled of a nice perfume and—before the air conditioner beat down the accumulated heat in the car—a bit of good girl sweat.
The nearest store was on the outskirts of Ocean City, five or six miles up the road. Billy began his work immediately. “Don’t you get lonesome all by yourself every night?”
“You don’t have time to get lonesome with kids,” she said.
“Shame for a good-looking girl like you to spend every evening with no more company than a couple of kids,” he said.
“Breaks of the game,” she said, but she turned her face toward him with a quick smile.
Billy talked a little trash, and she was giving all the right answers. When they got to the little service station and grocery store, he said he’d go in. She gave him a dollar for two packs of Camel filters, and he came out with a cold six-pack. He went first class, because she was a pretty classy broad. He bought one of those expensive brands.
“Christ, yeah,” she said. “Hit the spot.”
She drove with the cold bottle between her legs. Billy didn’t want to cool off that spot. He had other ideas.
“Seen the dig lately?” He was referring to the huge excavation for the base of the reactors.
“Naw.”
“Let’s drive in and take a look,” he said.
“Sam sees me riding around with you, it’ll be him and you,” she said.
“He don’t have to see us,” he said, smiling. He pointed to a little lumber road as they approached it. “Take a right.”
She did. His heart started pumping. He killed his beer and twisted the cap off another. She hadn’t finished hers. He reached for it to test it and then, finding it half full, pushed it back down, with a little twisting motion, between her legs. The road ended at a temporary fence. “Can’t see much from here,” she said, lifting her beer after throwing the car into park, leaving the motor running. Billy reached across and turned off the key and doused the lights.
“Good view,” he said. In front of them the tall buildings were floodlit. There wasn’t a blade of grass, not a single runty tree between the fence and the installation. On one of the projects, sparks flew from an electric welder.
“That’s where Sam works,” she said.
“Yeah.” He moved in. When he pressed his flank up against hers she made a small motion to move away. She didn’t have any place to go. He put his arm around her and put his other hand on her chin and pulled her face toward him. “I’ve been looking at you for a long time,” he said.