"All of 'em," replied Flo, "every single one. You can't belch in this town without everybody knowing about it ten minutes later… You'll meet some of them yourself, Friday night. Arnie has invited some friends over for a little party. I hope you don't mind."
"Mind? No, why should I mind?" asked Ginny. "I think it will be lots of fun to meet your friends."
"Well, maybe," grinned Flo, "I guess it's only fair to warn you that some of our friends go in for really wild parties… you know what I mean? Not much else to do up here, I guess."
Ginny was getting a little concerned. "Wild? Just how wild do you mean?"
Florence smiled, "I wouldn't go worrying about it. It won't be anything to write home to Mother about, but it'll be fun… you can count on that!"
CHAPTER TEN
Ginny couldn't remember a party where the guest list was more diverse than this one. She'd forgotten most of the names already, but she'd never forget this party. Arnie's friends ranged from Cleveland Bartlett, the town's banker and local financier, to "Moose Jaw" Diker, the first friend Arnie had found back in those bleak, lonely years before he'd made his fortune. Moose Jaw was eighty-five if he was a year, and as tough as a keg of tenpenny nails. Ginny was glad he could come, for he came as close to being the grizzled prospector from the westerns she'd read as a child as anyone could be. He even smelled like a rough-and-ready outdoorsman, maybe even a pioneer. Mr. Bartlett was a whole lot less interesting, but Ginny noticed Arnie spent more time with him than with Moose Jaw or some of his other colorful acquaintances. Flo introduced her to every single one, but the names all ran together. She figured there was plenty of time for learning names later.
Arnie spent most of his time around the liquor, seemingly mixing one drink before he finished the other. But Arnie could never be called selfish with his booze; he was passing out drinks like crazy, though most everyone had long ago drunk their fill.
They'd long since exhausted every conceivable topic of discussion by eleven-thirty, and the guests began to thin out, pausing a moment to pay their respects to the host and hostess and to wish Ginny a pleasant, enjoyable visit. She was glad to see them go, frankly, for she'd tired of talking about the California weather, smog and hippies hours earlier.
Only Arnie was left in the living room by midnight, and he insisted Ginny have one last drink. She tried to refuse, but he was terribly persistent, and she finally relented. It was her fourth or fifth – she couldn't remember – and went down like water. It had hardly reached her belly before she began to regret it.
She started to get up, but the floor spun around beneath her feet, so she plopped back into the big chair.
"Looks like you're feeling no pain, huh sweetheart?" asked Arnie. Ginny could only see a messy blur where his face should have been.
"What… oh, yeah, I guess so," she said thickly. "Where's Flo?" She seemed to add that last question as an afterthought when she slowly realized she was alone with Arnie.
"She's occupied with Gus at the moment," smiled Arnie.
Ginny tried to wait for all the words to sink in. "With Gus? You mean…"
Arnie cut her off. "Yeah, with Gus. She has these little flings once in a while. She'll have forgotten all about it by morning."
Ginny heard it all right, but she couldn't believe her ears. "I don't understand, Arnie. Is she in there?" She motioned toward the closed bedroom door.
Arnie nodded affirmatively. "Come on, we'll have a little fun." He got up, grabbing Ginny by the arm.
"Wait a minute," she insisted, "where are we going? I don't want to go in there."
But Arnie was his usual persistent self. "Oh, c'mon, live a little. You won't see anything you haven't seen already this week."
Ginny's cheeks suddenly were bright crimson. He knows! He knows I was watching!
"You didn't think you fooled me, did you? I saw you hiding down there beside your bed."
"But… but why… why didn't you say something," stammered Ginny, too embarrassed to look up.
"Why should I? I'd have spoiled all your fun… and besides, I don't mind an audience when I fuck. I've got nothing to hide," he laughed.
Ginny's head was spinning like a top, and she wanted nothing more than to go to bed and sleep off this topsy-turvy state her mind was in.
But Arnie was in the best position; he was less dulled by the alcohol, being still way below his capacity, and soon Ginny found herself being led into the darkened bedroom, by way of her room.
"Please, Arnie… I don't want to," she whispered, but Arnie pulled her behind him, and they settled quietly on the thick animal skin against the far wall. The bedroom fireplace still bore the smoldering remnants of the night's fire, and the glowing-red coals cast an eerie light over the couple intertwined on the bed fifteen away. The fire's glow was the only light in the room, and at the far end where Ginny and Arnie sat on the fur rug, it was pitch black.
"Are you cold," whispered Arnie, and put his arm around Ginny's shoulders before she could reply. She started to push it away, but it didn't seem to make any difference so she left it.
"Let's get out of here, Arnie," said Ginny softly, leaning nearly to his left ear. "I don't like this."
"Relax… they won't mind as long as it looks like we're here for the same reason." He squeezed his arm around her shoulders, gently caressing the soft flesh of her bare arm with his open palm.
"What do you mean?" Ginny whispered loudly.
"Sh-h-h-h… just follow my lead, and I'll guarantee you the show of your life."
Ginny thought of running from the room, of simply jumping up and racing back into the living room. But somehow, something kept her there, something almost like magic seemed to hold her securely to this spot. Just like the other night, when she'd spied on Arnie and Flo, some strange kind of wicked attraction seemed to draw her like a magnet.
The shadowy figures on the bed were practically still, with only an occasional movement to indicate they were even awake. Suddenly a head rose above the covers, and Ginny could feel someone looking her way.
"Cooperate, Ginny… Gus is looking at us," whispered Arnie.
She gave in, it seemed the only answer and Arnie seemed so sure it would solve everything. The last thing she wanted was a scene…
She allowed herself to drift freely in the dizziness brought on by the alcohol, and Arnie had pulled her so close she could hardly move. Catching her by surprise, his hand slipped down the collar of her dress, unbuttoning the top button, and fastened firmly on her naked breast. She could feel sharp pin pricks of delicious feeling racing through the tips of them as he rolled the tiny hardening nipple between his thumb and forefinger maddeningly. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her ear as he turned his head toward her, nibbling tantalizingly at the skin of her bare neck.
This is wrong… I know it is! I've got to do something! I've got to get out of here!
She started to squirm away, struggling to get to her feet, but Arnie snapped her head back toward his and planted his lips firmly on hers. She tried still to get away, but the pressure was too great for her to escape. Maybe if she'd been sober, but in her present state she was no match for him.
His tongue thrust strongly between her clenched teeth, and wetly probed the inside of her mouth, its roughness rubbing the surface of her tongue. She found herself thrusting her own tongue back at him, and he sucked it deep into the wetness of his mouth. There was no question about it, he really knew how to kiss.
Something was wrong, she told herself. She should be sick to her stomach, revulsed at the touch of another man, especially this one, Fred's own brother! But she didn't feel that way, and no matter how hard she denied it to herself, she was really enjoying this man's kisses… this man's caressing touch. He was a real man, maybe even more of a man than her own Fred and the first man she'd been this close to in months. That disgusting swine in Los Angeles didn't count, she thought, and something about Arnie's forcefulness was awfully hard to resist.