It’s twenty-one minutes after seven… and counting.

I come in on Doris Day singing “Que Sera, Sera,” and I try to remember what time it was and what song was playing when I first sat down on the bed and began looking at the red barn in that little painting on the wall.

No.  Sorry, but I don’t remember the song or the time, but I do know it wasn’t as long as last time.  I’ve been known to spend hours upon hours, sometimes all day staring at that stupid painting, going it over and over in my mind, trying to fix what’s over and done with, trying to fix what’s in the past.  And the result is always the same.  I come back with a headache and no memory like I’ve been on a two day drunk.

I do remember the reason I’m all made up, not a hair out of place, wearing the dress Adam bought for me, his favorite shade of red applied to my lips.  It’s my birthday and he’s taking me out to dinner, and it’s my duty to be the good little wife and be gracious, is it not?  After all, he is such a wonderful, warm and generous husband – in public, that is – and to be on anything but my best behavior would surely be seen as ungrateful.

But you know what I realize – as I check my watch against the clock radio – is that my wonderful, warm and generous husband is running late.     

I’m sure it’s that Number Nine train…again.  I’m almost sure that’s what it’s got to be.  Or maybe something came up at the office.  That happens, you know.  After all, my husband does such important work.  He is vital to the business and things would fall apart if he wasn’t there, although… I’m not exactly sure what the sonofabitch does.

Oh well… whether it’s the Number Nine train or it’s something that’s come up at the office, or it’s some blonde he met on the Number Nine train that he’s decided to get to know better, whatever the reason Adam is running late, I keep my fingers crossed it keeps him well into the middle of next week.

Doris Day gives way to Dean Martin which in turn gives way to silence as I turn off the radio, stand up and walk out into the corridor and take a glance inside each of the kids’ empty bedrooms. 

It’s so damn quiet with them gone.  For a moment I wish I could be where they are, out in the country far away from all of this, staying with my cousin Phyllis and her husband Joe and their young’uns, just havin’ fun, living the good life, sleeping under the stars. 

I walk back into the big bedroom so I can look up at the photographs on the wall, the Olan Mills portraits of Lana and Stewart, and I am thinking about how much they’ve changed in just two years when I hear Adam come through the door downstairs and slam it behind him, tossing his briefcase on the kitchen table like I’ve heard him so many times before.

“Millie!” he shouts at me as I hear his footsteps on the tile floor and then his clump-clump-clumping as he comes up the stairs. “Where the hell are you?” 

I take a breath as I turn toward the open doorway, waiting for him to have a look at me.

“I’m right here,” I say to him.

He comes into the bedroom, all six feet and two inches, one-hundred-ninety pounds of him, his piercing blue eyes looking into mine.

“What the hell are you doing there?” he asks me as he takes off his suit. “We need to get ready,” he says, stripping off the shirt. “What are you doing just standing around?” 

“Well…” I say, looking at my shoes as I step from one to the other, side to side. “I’m all ready to go.  This is the dress…”

“Oh, right,” he says. “The dress I bought for you...” He steps back, looks me up and down and shakes his head. “I think it looked better on the hanger,” he says with a straight face.

I walk to the other side of the bedroom and look into the mirror as the sick feeling comes over me, watching his naked butt move toward the bathroom door.  Just as he is about to disappear through the door, I see him looking back, smiling at me as I stand biting my lip to keep from saying anything out of turn.

“I was joking, Red,” he says. “You look very nice.”

I know, it was no apology, but in his own way he took it back.  I should let it go.  I should…

“You’re late,” I blurt out. “You come through the door acting like I’m doing something wrong, and then you insult me, but it’s all to cover up for the fact that you’re… that you’re…”

I watch Adam in the mirror as he turns from the bathroom door and I tense up as he approaches me from behind, all at once embracing me, one arm around my waist, the other a little higher, just around the ribs. 

“Late? Is that what you were going to say?” he asks me, and then his grip tightens around me until he has me in a squeeze. “Or maybe you had another word you were going to use to fill in the space.”

Oh yes, it’s true, there is another word, but I’d like to get through the next few moments without getting punched in the stomach.  Of course since the sonofabitch is naked, he can’t help pressing up against my backside and grinding his hips, and I know all I have to do to make peace with him is grind back twice as hard. 

At first, I hear him gasp, and he takes his arms from around me, grasping me by the hips to help me along.  I feel him get hard as a rock, then lift up my dress and take my panties down. 

“Oh baby, you’re all wet,” he says as he slides the tip up and down between my legs. “You must have been thinkin’ about me.”

Oh sure.  Tell yourself that.  You don’t know know where I’ve been or who I’ve been thinking about. 

For a moment I wonder if he is going to put it in or not, then all of a sudden, without warning, he plunges it in quick and deep, making me squeal. 

“Shit, baby doll,” he grunts at me, then goes at it hard and fast, slapping his thighs against my backside.  That’s when he makes a dead stop and stands there a moment, buried inside me.

“God, I wish we could finish this,” he says, and he slowly inches it out. “We just don’t have the time.  Running late as it is,” he says, nuzzling me, his prick all the way out but still holding me, moving his hands all over, fondling me through the thin dress.  “That idiot Kelly at work, I had to clean up his mess, and then that goddamn Number Nine Train…

“But tonight,” he says, grabbing my wrist and pulling it behind me, wrapping my hand around his big, hard prick as my green eyes stare back from the mirror, filled with disgust.

“I got something planned for you tonight, baby doll,” he says, and he walks away,  disappears into the bathroom and closes the door.  Soon I hear the water running and my tone deaf husband singing in the shower, and I back away from the mirror.

I’m a mess.  First thing’s first, I pull up my panties and fix my dress, smooth it out.  I’m hot and sweaty and my hair is mussed.  I need to fix it but… god, I’m hot.  Dizzy.  Need to sit down…

Sitting on the bed I look around and I don’t see anything that belongs to me.  The dresser.  The clock radio.  The clothes I wear.  This bed I sleep on when my nightmares allow me to sleep. 

I don’t even belong to myself.

#

It’s about sunset when we arrive at the restaurant, and that’s when the show begins.  It seems almost choreographed, the way Adam walks around to the passenger’s side and opens the door, takes my hand delicately with one hand and supports my arm with the other, gently helping me out of the car.  He leaves the passenger’s side door open, eyeing the parking attendant as he takes me in his arms, bending me in half and pressing his lips to mine.  It is so forceful that it might almost be mistaken for the passion, but I know better.

“That’s how it’s done, kid,” he tells the attendant, and after he closes my door and takes my arm, he slips the kid a bill and says, “No joyrides, kid, or it’s your ass.”

The young man looks at me with a hint of a smile like he knows the man I’m there with is a total jerk.  He doesn’t say anything.  He just hops in the car and does his job the way they all do, the way they all have to do if they want to keep their jobs.  

All the way inside, all the way to the table where Adam insists on pulling out my chair for me, I turn my head and look back because I am thinking of the young man’s face and how familiar it is to me. Then I remember why I’m here, to be the dutiful wife, and I smile at my husband and sit down as he pushes the chair in.

Adam shaved and he looks good in a dark blue suit and striped tie.  He takes the chair from the other side of the table and slides it around next to mine so he can sit close with me and appear to be the perfect, attentive husband.  

He does look good, doesn’t he, with those blue eyes, the wavy hair and broad shoulders.  And he’s talking so smooth and being so sweet.  What more could a woman ask for?

A soul, perhaps.

“Well well,” Adam says, lighting a cigarette, blowing the smoke away from me. “We couldn’t have asked for a more perfect evening.  Don’t you agree?”

“Yes,” I agree. “Perfect.”

“Welcome to Antonio’s,” an olive-skinned man with black hair blindsides me. He is impeccably dressed in a white shirt and black waistcoat. “My name is Carlo.  I will be your waiter this evening.  Can I get the lady or the gentleman something to drink?”

“First, Carlo,” Adam says. “My wife is thirty years young today. Does she not still appear as radiant as a blushing young bride?”

If Carlo is uncomfortable with the question, he certainly doesn’t show it.  He smiles at me and turns to Adam, nodding.

“Sir, while it is not my desire to embarrass the young lady by speaking of her rare beauty, I will say that you, sir, are an extremely lucky gentleman.”

I feel myself blush and I sit very still with my head down, not knowing what to say, but to fill an uncomfortable silence I finally lift my head, giving Carlo a gentle smile.

“Thank you,” I tell him.

“Yeah,” Adam says. “Thanks.  As for the drink, I’ll have an old-fashioned.”

“Canadian Club and Coke, please,” I tell Carlo, then I turn to Adam and ask, “Is that okay?”

“Anything you want, my dear,” he says. “See, the young lady doesn’t get out much, feels like she has to ask permission for everything.”

“Very good, sir,” Carlo says, and he nods to me. “Nice of you to share your birthday with us, Ma’am.  I hope you find your experience a good one.” 

As he turns to leave, I can feel Adam tighten his grip on my shoulder, and I can practically hear him gritting his teeth.

“Well,” he says. “Isn’t he a pretentious one, talking that  way.’

“Don’t worry about him,” I tell my husband, hiding my tongue inside my cheek. “He’s got nothing on you.”

“Thanks, baby doll,” he says, kissing me behind the ear. “These wops and guinea types are about as smooth as a baby’s ass.”

He lights another cigarette and I can see he’s found one – yeah, one of those women he’d like to get to know better if it was a different night, different situation, and if I wasn’t with him, he’d be trying to find a way to get next to her, get inside of her before the night is over. 

While he’s looking at her it gives me a little vacation from his attention.  I can relax a little, sit quiet, wait for the drinks to come, listen to the piano player I just now take notice of in the center of the restaurant.  He’s good.  He’s for real.  He improvises.  He doesn’t play the music note for note like some machine you drop your nickels into. 

When the drinks arrive, I close my eyes and take a long sip as I listen to his fingers dance over the keys.  I could lose myself like this, if only Adam would allow me to sit and drink and listen to this man play the piano all night.  Imagine having a birthday when I get to sit and do what I want… 

I finish my drink fast and Carlo comes by and I order another.

“Pace yourself, baby doll,” Adam says. “A little buzz is all right, but I don’t want you half in the bag.  I need you clear-headed and alert.  Order something to eat.”

He picks up my menu and places it in my hands.  I try to make some sense of it, and even though it’s mostly in English, I find myself unable to make a conscious decision.  It isn’t until Carlo returns with my second drink and, looking over my shoulder, offers his advice about the popularity of a particular item, the Eggplant Parmesan and the Braised Asparagus on the side, that I close my menu.

“That sounds lovely,” I tell him.

“Yes, make that two,” Adam says. “Then maybe later you can come by and tell us what to order for dessert.”

“Very good, sir,” Carlo says, taking our menus and turning to go.

“Jesus, baby doll.  I don’t think you could ruffle his feathers if you hit him with a brick.”

“May I have a cigarette?” I ask my husband, feeling the craving I always get when I drink.  He takes one out of his pack, puts it between my lips, and lights it for me.  That’s when someone leans over Adam’s shoulder, the maître-d, and says something to him, and Adam reaches into his jacket and takes out his wallet.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, handing the maître-d a couple of bills. “It’ll be fine.”

“Yes sir,” the maître-d says, his eyes widening. “It’ll be fine.”

Before I can ask what’s going on, before I can put the words together, I see it before my eyes as two waiters bring a pair of extra chairs and push them up to our table.  Not far behind, I see them approaching, a man with slicked back hair wearing a green suit and a young girl in a baby blue floral printed dress.

I notice right away that he doesn’t have her arm tucked gentleman-like in his own.  More like he’s got his big hairy fist wrapped around her upper arm and he’s dragging her along.

Adam, you low down piece of scum, you didn’t do this.

“You Mister Frost?” the man says to Adam.

“That’s me,” Adam says, rising out of his chair and extending his hand across the table. “Been expecting you.  Have a seat and I’ll buy you a drink.”

“I appreciate the offer,” the man says. “But all I was told to do was bring the girl and that was it.”

“There ain’t no harm in sitting and having a couple of drinks,” Adam tells him. “That way it doesn’t have to look like some business deal with you beating it out the door.”

All this time, the girl keeps her head down, hiding behind her long black curls, too shy to say a word.  She steps from one shoe to the other and keeps her hands folded in front of her like she doesn’t know what to do with them.  She’s slender and shapely at the same time, small in the bosom but round in the hips, very attractive to the eye, but…

God, why couldn’t they get someone a few years older at least, someone who’s been around the block a few times?  Not that it would make me feel much better about what’s going on, but at least I wouldn’t be sitting here more concerned about her than about myself. 

“Sit down, Billie,” the man says, seating himself in one of the chairs the waiters provided. “Sure, Mister Frost, I’ll make it look good for you.  You can call me Frank, if that will make it easier.”

The girl stands there stranded as if she’s still not sure what to do, so I climb out of my chair, feeling the buzz as soon as I stand, and reach out, touching the girl gently on both arms.  When she raises her chin so that she can look at me with those dark eyes, even the alcohol cannot protect me from feeling an ache deep in my heart.

“Would you like to sit over here next to me?” I ask her.

After some hesitation, she nods and I walk her over to the chair.  She stares at the chair, then at me.  I smile and nod, and she finally slips down into the seat, allowing me to push her up to the table.  I sit down again as her eyes follow me, and I reach out and touch her hand.

“I’m right here,” I tell her, “if you need anything.”

That’s when Carlo shows up, seeing a pair of new faces.  Frank speaks right up.

“Scotch, rocks,” he says. “Billie,” he says to the girl, “have a drink.”

Billie looks up, her eyes moving from one face to another as if she is lost.  I don’t know where it is, but they should take this girl back to the place where they found her.  This is all too much for her, I can see it.  The lights, the people looking at her, and now she’s expected to say something.

“May I get you something to drink, young lady?” Carlo asks her gently and finally she shakes her head no, clearly, from side to side.  In most places, I would take that and move on, but not old Frank. 

“Nonsense, kid,” he says, and as I watch him grab her by the wrist, I feel a sharp pain like he’s grabbing me.   “Have a goddamn drink.”.

“Sir, it is probably for the best that she has a soft drink or glass of water,” Carlo says, “unless the girl can prove she is twenty-one.”

“Well well well, aren’t you something,” Frank says to Carlo, and then to Adam, “You suppose the restaurant sent him to college to teach him to talk like that?”

While he and Adam are having their laughs, I turn to Billie, touching her hand and caressing it gently.  I get a warm feeling inside.

“Billie, have you ever had a drink?” I ask her.  She studies me in total silence, placing her other hand on top of mine, then finally opens her mouth to speak.

“Only once I recall, ma’am,” she says to me with a drawl so sweet it drips honey from here to Memphis.

“How did it make you feel?” I ask her. “And please, call me Amelia.”

“Ame-li… Ame-li…” she stumbles over it a couple of times, then just gives up and says, “I got sicker than a dog what’s been eatin’ at the grass.”

“Well, there you go,” I say. “We don’t want you getting sick, do we?  So how about a plain old cold Coca-Cola with ice in a glass?”

As Billie looks at me, her tongue comes out and licks her full red lips, making me tingle all over. I’m sure she’s thinking about that cold glass of coke when she does it, but that’s not what I’m thinking about at all.  

For what I’m thinking about, I should be slapped for even thinking such things about such a sweet young thing.  But that’s how long it’s been, goddammit.  That’s how long it’s been since I’ve been with a woman.   

“Well, Billie,” Frank gristles impatiently. “What about it?  I ain’t got all night.”

“Do you got… root beer?” she asks, a big smile spreading across her lips.

“No, young lady,” Carlo says. “I’m sorry, but we do have Coca-Cola, Ginger Ale, Seven-Up…”

“The young lady will have Coca-Cola,” Frank says, looking at his watch.  Carlo looks at Frank, keeps his mouth shut and walks away.

“That’s all right,” I say to Billie. “Isn’t it easier sometimes when people decide for us?”

“I s’pose so,” she says. “Sometimes.”

“Well, Mister Frost, what do you think of her?” Frank says to Adam. “Billie,” he says, slapping her on the shoulder, “look at the man and smile.”

“That’s all right, Sweetheart,” he says to Billie. “No need to smile.  You look perfect the way you are.” Then he leans toward me, whispering, “Ain’t she perfect, baby doll?”

He wants me to say it.  He wants to hear what he wants to hear.  But I’m thinking about later, and I’m looking at her and I’m imagining her naked, and I’m picturing Adam with his hands on her, and I… God, I don’t want to think about it.

“Oh yes,” I agree with him. “She’s perfect all right…  but it’s my birthday.”

“What’s that got to do with it?” he says.  

“Why can’t it just be you and me, you know, like always?” I ask him.

“You enjoy that?  Just you and me?”

“Yes, I do,” I tell him. “You know I do.  I enjoy it more than anything.”

Adam stares at me hard a moment, then smiles, digging his fingers into my shoulder as he leans in to speak softly in my ear.

“You know, it doesn’t really matter what you enjoy, because we’re doing this tonight, like it or not.  Got it?”

He lets go of my shoulder and I look away into a pattern of rising smoke of a cigarette, my hand shaking as I reach for my drink.  I take a sip, listen to the piano, and turn to look at Billie who is looking back at me.

“You look sad, ma’am,” she says.

“Call me Millie,” I tell her. “You can say Millie, right?”

“Millie,” she says.  Then she smiles as she says, “Millie and Billie.”

We are interrupted by Carlo arriving with the drinks, Billie’s Coke and Frank’s scotch and a fresh round for me and Adam.  Frank laughs and raises his glass.

“Thanks for the drink,” he says to Adam.

“You’re welcome,” Adam says. “Oh, why don’t we talk about the particulars, as in, for instance, how old are you, Sweetheart?”

“Billie, tell the man how old you are,” Frank says.

“I jus’ turned seventeen in April, sir,” Billie says, then returns her lips to the straw, sucking at her Coke.

“Mm-mm-mm-mm-mm,” Adam hums a little melody to himself, looking at her across the table. “Seventeen.  Ain’t that sweet?”

“And,” Frank says, “just like you paid for, she’s as fresh as they come.”

“Fresh?” I ask.

“Like a piece of fruit off the vine,” Frank says.

I grab Adam by the arm.  I mean, I only suspected it moments ago, but now they are telling me…

“You mean, she’s a virgin?” I whisper.

“That’s right, baby doll,” Adam says out loud. “And tonight, you’re going to teach her everything you know.”   

All of a sudden I feel sick, and it’s got nothing to do with the booze.  I know what it is.  Excluding the beautiful, innocent young girl sitting to my left, it’s the people sitting at my table.  I look at them and I can’t breathe.  I feel hot.  I take the ice water glass and sip from it, press it to my brow.  I  listen for the piano player, but he must be on a break.  I need to escape…

“Excuse me,” I say, standing up, knocking my chair over. “I have to go to the… to the…”

“Don’t get lost,” Adam says, grabbing my wrist, forcing me to pull away, and I move as fast as I can, trying to maneuver between the tables and remember exactly where the ladies’ room is in this place.  Is it in the back or near the front or somewhere close to the bar? 

Finally, I find it near the entrance and rush inside, find a few women by the long mirror checking their make-up but all the toilets free.  I hurry into a stall and slam the door, spinning around and bending over, lifting the seat and dripping sweat into the bowl, and then I wait… and wait… and wait for something that never happens. 

I am still trying to catch my breath as I put the seat back down, turn around, lift my dress and take my panties down and sit.  I stare at the inside of the stall door, close my eyes, then open them again…

(

I am walking barefoot along the shoulder of Route 27 with a rip in my gown, my purse over one arm as I carry my shoes with the same hand.  I’m not sure what time it is and I don’t care. Yes, I’m afraid of walking along the road like this, where any pair of headlights could mean trouble, but I’m more afraid of not getting where I’m going, and seeing the face of the one person I know is going to make everything all right.

By the time I reach the farmhouse, I am exhausted.  I put on my shoes to walk up the gravel driveway, snatching up a few pieces along the way, thinking I’ll carefully toss them one at a time at her window.  That’s when old George comes out, barking at me.  I pet him and he quiets down, wagging his tail and giving me that big panting doggy grin.

“Somebody there?” I hear her voice.  She comes walking out from behind the barn, her dark silhouette throwing a shadow across the yard. “Amelia, is that you?”

“It’s me.”

I stand and wait for her to come to me.  She wears a large men’s undershirt and shorts and she walks barefoot across the gravel like it’s nothing.  She steps up close to me and looks at me.  It’s hard to see the blue of her eyes in the dark but I still feel the intensity of their gaze.

“Well, look at you,” she says. “You coming from the ball?”

“Yes, the stupid ball,” I tell her. “That ball you said you wouldn’t be caught dead going to.  I walked here…” 

“Wait  You walked here from…?”

“All the way from the school.”

My emotions catch up with me and I begin shaking as the tears well up in my eyes.  That’s when Claire takes me in her arms, and I drop my purse and my shoes on the ground so that I can hold onto her.  She is nice and cool, and I can feel that her hair is wet hanging down her back like she’s just had a bath.

“Amelia, let’s go sit down, all right?  You need to get off your feet and I’ll get you some water.”

Claire picks up my purse and shoes and takes my arm, walking me behind the barn where there is a chair and small table already waiting.

“This is where I hide out, back here,” she says. “Sit.  I’ll sit in the grass.  But first…” she takes a tall cup from the table and walks to the pump.  I watch her work the arm up and down several times before the water comes.  She fills the cup and brings it to me.  It’s nice and cold, but I stare down into the cup.”

“I’ve been drinking that water for years,” she says, “and I’m still alive.”

I put it to my mouth and drink.

“Thank you,” I tell her.

“I’d offer you lemonade, but I’d have to go in the house, and that might wake up Aunt Loretta,” she says. “Now, please tell me what happened.”

She eases herself down onto the ground and lays on her side in the grass, facing me, resting her head on her hand.

I tell her about Jimmy, my best friend Kathy’s big brother, someone I’ve known since we were kids.  I tell her how he’s been drafted, but since he’s on a pass he agreed to take me to my first ball, and how happy and proud I was to be there with him.  Claire listens as I tell her how he explained he needed to tell me something, and I was afraid he was going to ask me to be his girl, but after we went outside and found a quiet spot he told shocked me by telling me he was shipping out, that he was going away to the war, and I told Claire how much that upset me.

“Of course it did,” she says. “He’s like a big brother to you.  And admit it, maybe you do have a little crush on him.”

“But then,” I tell her, “after he comforts me, I see he wants to kiss me, and I think, well, this could be a moment we both remember, you know, just the two of us, so I let him kiss me and I kiss him back.  Just a gentle kiss on the lips.”

“That’s sweet,” Claire says.

“Yes, but then he wanted more.  He wasn’t even gentle about it.  He started kissing me real hard and moving his hands all over me, and he was rough about it.  I pushed him away and got up off the bench and he got all upset, started talking like I owed it to him.”

“Owed it to him?”

“Yes.  For taking me to the ball.  For being so nice.  For being so brave and going off to fight for his country.”

“I can’t believe it,” she says. “The nice guy you described to me doing something like that.  Anybody doing something like that. ‘I’m going off to fight in the war so you should let me fuck you.’

“Oh, baby…” she moans, lying on her back in the grass, spreading her legs wide and grinding her hips in the air. “Stick that big thing in me, you brave soldier, you!”

Watching this makes me giggle… and blush… and squirm in the chair, squeezing my legs together to try to contain the excitement I feel between them.

“Sweetie,” Claire says. “You look like you’re doing the pee dance sitting down.  Do you need to use the…”

“No,” I tell her, embarrassed that it looks so obvious. “I’m fine.”

All is quiet for a moment.  To fill the silence I drink my water, drink almost all of it, but I don’t finish it.  I don’t want her to notice and move from that spot to get me more water.  I enjoy sitting and looking at her just the way she is, lying there like one of those pinup models.

“So, Amelia, there’s just one thing I’m not clear about.”

“What’s that?”

“I know what happened tonight was terrible,” she says, “but why would you walk all this way to see me?”

I take a breath, I let it out, thinking back to Monday night when I ran from her like a scared rabbit. 

Tell her, Amelia.  Tell her how you feel.

“The kiss,” I say to her.

“I know,” Claire says. “I’m sorry.  I just thought… but I was wrong.”

“No,” I tell her, standing up out of the chair, stepping forward. “I was the one who was wrong.”

“Are you saying…?”

“Yes, I’m saying…”

It’s my move and I make it.  I take hold of my gown, lifting it enough so I don’t get tangled in in it as I fall to my knees.  I bend down, looking deep into her eyes.  On Monday night, I was scared, but I ain’t scared no more. 

Time seems to stop as I press my lips to hers.  We are the only two people alive on the whole planet, Claire and me.  I hear her breathing as she kisses me back, holding my face in her hands.  When I reach out and touch her arm, I feel her trembling all up and down, giving me the urge to explore her body.

“Amelia,” she whispers to me between kisses. “Amelia, you just don’t know…”

With my mouth against hers, I slip my hand underneath the front of the t-shirt and reach up inside, for the first time touching another young woman’s naked breast.  I caress the firm, smooth flesh with my fingers, finding the stiff nipple and rubbing it between my thumb and forefinger.

“Oh my god, Amelia,” she murmurs breathlessly, touching my hand through the t-shirt. “Yes, please…” And the next thing I know, I am on top of her, lying between her spread legs, feeling the heat coming from between them as she gyrates against me.  She pulls up her t-shirt so that I can see her breasts, and looking at them only makes me want to touch them more.  To kiss them. 

I take a nipple in my mouth and suck on it, grazing it with my teeth, feeling her fingers touch the back of my head as she arches her back and grinds wildly against me, holding her breath.

“I’m going to…” she whispers, staring into my eyes as she wraps her arms and legs tight around me.  Her breath comes in quick gasps as she shivers all up and down, and she is so wet that it soaks through her shorts to the front of my gown.

When it’s over, she looks up at me and smiles, caresses my cheek and gives me a quick, affectionate kiss on the lips.

“Looks like we’ve got company,” she says softly. “George, old boy, what do you want?”

The old farm dog comes closer and Claire reaches out her hand to pet him.  That’s when the beam of the flashlight comes out of nowhere, blinding me, causing me to flinch as I feel Claire clutching onto me.

“What in God’s name is going on here?” her Aunt Loretta speaks, and I panic, trying my best to get up as Claire pulls her t-shirt down to cover herself.  The two of us help each other to climb up off the ground, and we stand side by side in the heat. Claire takes my hand and squeezes it.

“Are you going to tell me,” the woman says, “or are you not?” She holds the flashlight directly at my face. “Exactly what have you been doing with my niece?”

My heart is pounding and I feel out of breath, feeling guilty when I know there is nothing to feel guilty about.

“Wait just one damn minute!” Claire says to her aunt. “Amelia didn’t do anything.  I made the first move and I’m not ashamed of it.  I’m in love with her, you see.  I know things are easy for you in your little world where everything is black and white, but sometimes life gets complicated, Aunt Loretta.”

“Oh, it’s complicated, is it?” the woman says. “Well, it’s all very simple to me.” She approaches Claire with the flashlight, shining it right in her face. “Look at you, the girl I raised,” she says, breathing hard through her nose. “You’re a filthy, disgusting, perverted degenerate.”

I feel sick standing there next to Claire, hearing her own flesh and blood say something like that, and I tighten my grip on her hand to give her my strength.

“Be careful not to use all your ugly words in one night,” Claire says. “You might want to save some for when you play cards with the ladies next Wednesday.  Oh, and before you start judging me, you might want to look at some of the so-called gentlemen you’ve been keeping time with.”

For a second I want to laugh like I’m sitting fifth row at an Ann Sheridan picture, but I know Claire isn’t exactly cracking wise.  She’s staring into that flashlight with an expression that’s dead serious.

“You had better watch what you say, young lady,” Aunt Loretta says.

“You think that nice, handsome Mister Sullivan from the bank kept coming over here to see you, don’t you?  Well, I think you’d like to know how more than once when the two of you were sitting together listening to the radio in the evening, and he’d excuse himself to go upstairs and use our bathroom, that he would come into my room and tell me how pretty I was and ask me if I’d ever been with a man.” 

Aunt Loretta lowers the flashlight and backhands Claire hard across the face.

“You filthy liar!” she screams at her, but Claire comes right back like it’s nothing, looking her in the eyes.

“Oh yes,” Claire says. “The last time he commented on what a nice pair of tits I had, and then he tried to grab one of them.  Of course I promised not to tell you if he promised never to try it again.  Tell me, Aunt Loretta, is that respectable behavior?”

Her aunt drops the flashlight and tries to slap her again, several times, but Claire ducks out of the way and grabs her by the wrists.

“If you think I’m going to let you hit me again,” Claire says, “you’re as stupid as Mister Sullivan.”

The two of them look at one another, Claire lets go, and her aunt brings her arms down to her sides.  She seems afraid of Claire, keeping her eyes on her niece as she bends over to pick up her flashlight.  She backs away from us, then turns and walks away, disappearing around the barn.

)

I come back from that place and time and I am standing in front of the ladies’ room mirror, doing what I can to repair what the cold sweat did to it.  I’m not sure how long I’ve been gone.  Once again I did not look at my watch before taking my journey, but oh I do remember where I was, and I am not only burning with the fire between my legs but everywhere else in memory of Claire, of lying on top of her in the grass behind the barn, experiencing for the first time what it was to give another woman pleasure.

I’m surprised no one has come looking for me, but at the same time I don’t give a damn.  Let Adam wait.  Let him be a smart ass when I come back.  Let him be mean about it, if he wishes.  He’s got the keys in his pocket.  It’s his show.  He’s in charge. 

I suppose the only thing I’m worried about is Billie, all alone out there with the two of them, taking their abuse, but when I come out of the ladies’ room and find myself looking at that roomful of people, I ain’t ready to go back.  Not yet.  I need some fresh air.  I turn toward the entrance and walk out in a daze, not watching where in the hell I’m going, and I almost collide with someone.

“Oh, my gosh,” he says. “I’m sorry, Ma’am.”

It is the parking attendant who parked our car.  He sees that I’m shaking and he reaches out and steadies me, but I back away. 

“I’m all right,” I tell him. “It was my fault.  I ran into you.”

“Yes Ma’am, but I was standing right in front of the door…”

“OK,” I tell him. “It’s a draw.”

“Agreed.”

In silence, we stand under the canopy in front of the restaurant, and he offers me a cigarette.  I nod.  I take it, put it in my mouth and he lights it for me.  

“Do you… have another for later?” I ask him, and he looks me up and down as he takes out his pack, then pokes his fingers inside.

“Here,” he says, handing it to me. “You can have the rest if you want, and some matches if you need them.  I can always get more.

“Thank you,” I tell him, and as he turns to walk away I remind him, “No joyrides, kid.”

It takes me a moment to light a fresh cigarette as the breeze has picked up.  I step out from under the canopy and see a flash in the night sky out west, lighting up the heavens.  I close my eyes and breathe in, smelling the rain…

(

Claire stares straight ahead, her hands steady on the wheel as she drives the Ford convertible down Route 27.  She seems miles away from me as I sit here on the passenger’s side.  I want to say something, but she won’t even look at me.  She hasn’t said a word to me since she came out of the house with the car keys and told me to get in. 

Maybe if I talk about the weather.

“It sure clouded over in a hurry,” I say. “I think it’s going to rain.  I can smell it.  You know, we may have to put the top up.  You ever smell the rain?  One time I was talking about that in school, how I could smell the rain, and Cynthia Dwyer told me I had brain damage.”

Claire turns and looks at me and suddenly yanks the wheel to the right, driving down a dirt road.  She takes it down the road about twenty or thirty feet, stops the car and shuts it off.  We meet in the middle of the front seat, holding each other, sharing a passionate kiss, then looking in one another’s eyes, all without a word, until I break the silence.

“What you said to her… is that true?”

Claire rubs her eyes, pushes her hair back from her face, and strokes my cheek.

“Sorry,” she says. “You’ll have to be more specific.  I said lots of things.”

“You said that you…” my lower lip trembles with emotion as I struggle to get it out. “You said you’re in love with me.”

“Guilty as charged,” she says, raising one hand.

“That’s the truth?” I ask her.

“Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye,” she says, holding my head against her shoulder. “I’ve been in love with you since I first laid eyes on you.

“But here now,” she says, taking me by the shoulders and holding me at arm’s length. “I want to know how you feel about me.”

Her face is such a puddled blur, I have to close my eyes to allow the tears to roll down my cheeks.

“I… I don’t think I even knew what love was until I met you,” I tell her.

She kisses me and I put my arms around her, and I feel her lips touch my cheek, move along my neck, nibble on my ear.  I feel her hands moving over my body, their gentle touch a welcome difference from Jimmy’s rough and awkward fumbling.  She reaches under my gown and strokes the inside of my thighs and then her fingers against me, whispering in my ear.

“You feel that, my sweet? That’s nothing. Get in the back seat with me and I’m going to do something you’ve never dreamed of.”    

I follow her as she gets out first, then lets me out, then holds the door for me to climb in the back.  She climbs in after me and she touches me on my face.

“Before we go on,” she says, “I just want to make sure you’re completely all right with this.  I mean, I would hate for you to wake up tomorrow and decide I forced you into something, and then we couldn’t even be friends anymore.”

“That will never happen,” I tell her. “I love you.  And nobody can do anything to change that.  Claire, I can’t believe what she said to you.”

“Enough about that,” Claire says, and time seems to slow down as I wait for her lips to touch mine.  My heart is pounding as I reach to put my arms around her and in an instant I find her on top of me, pressing her whole body against mine.  All of my senses come alive as I lay there being kissed by her, and I spread my legs wide apart so that she can grind her hips against me.  I feel her kisses and her hot breath on my neck as she reaches under my dress once again, her hands moving up my thighs, getting closer and closer…

“Oh, Amelia,” she breathes into my ear, climbing off of me. “you are so wet, my love.”

“Where you goin’?” I call to her in a whisper, reaching to pull her back on top of me. “Where you go…” I start to say again when I felt her hands in the waistband of my panties, and I raise my behind in the air for her to take them off.  While I’m doing this, I decide to remove the gown as well, to take it off completely over my head, leaving only my brassiere. 

“Lean forward,” Claire says, and five seconds later she is looking at me, moving closer, easing me back down into the seat.  She kisses me on the neck and then moves lower, pressing her lips to my small breasts, sucking at my nipples as she moves her hand between my legs, pressing her fingers against me, each moment bringing a new level of pleasure I have never felt before.

“Amelia, your clit is so swollen,” she whispers. “Can you feel it?”

“Yes…” I whisper back, breathless as the first warm raindrops sprinkle down on my face from above. 

The warm raindrops come faster, closer together, but still only a sprinkle compared to the real thing.

“It’s time,” she whispers, and I feel her kissing me lower and lower down, the raindrops still coming faster, falling on my breasts as I reach to touch them, the plains of my stomach, following her as she reaches the base of my belly.  The next thing I know Claire is licking my clit and I have never felt anything so pleasurable before in my life. 

As the rain begins falling harder, we both remain where we are, me on my back with my legs spread, Claire with her head down between my thighs, her hands cupping my behind, working her tongue at my little bud.  I tremble and squirm with all the sensations surging through me, losing the ability to control myself as I reach down and lock my fingers in the hair at the back of Claire’s head, wet once again thanks to the rain, and a pleasure so unexpected and so intense lifts me off the seat and makes me cry out in the night.  Claire is caught in the grip of my twitching thighs, yet still manages to ease me back down to the seat, gently and safely.

When it’s done, Claire hurries to put the top up on the convertible.  After that, she sits next to me, holding my body against hers.

“Well?” she says.

“Well what?” I sigh.

“Did you like it?” she asks me.

I don’t know what to say.  I’m tired.  I’m exhausted.  My whole body is tingling.  I move my face closer to hers, touch my nose to her nose.

“What do we do now?” I ask.

“I suppose you get dressed and I take you home,” Claire says to me. “We’ll figure the rest out later.”

“Do we have to go now?” I ask her.

She smiles at me, taking my face in her hands, kissing me.  That’s when there’s a tap on the window and a flashlight shines in through the glass, and as I do my best to cover myself, Claire rolls down the window…

)

“So, Amelia, were you planning on coming back any time soon?” Adam says, taking me by the arm and turning me around. “Have you recovered?”

“Ye-es,” I reply.

“Frank’s gone,” he says. “It’s just me and the girl.  The food showed up.  I told her to have a few bites while it’s hot.  I figured you wouldn’t mind, you’re so charitable.”

“No,” I tell him. “I don’t mind.”

“So, you been out here all this time?” he asks me, taking my arm and leading me back inside.  We walk back to the table where I see Billie timidly eating from a plate that I am guessing was supposed to be mine. 

The poor girl looks so awkward trying to eat the spaghetti noodles I ordered as the pasta to go with my eggplant.  I take my seat next to her and as soon as she sees my face she drops the fork, pulling her hands back from the table as if she has been breaking the law by touching my food.

“It’s all right, Billie,” I tell her. “You’re fine. We’ll share.” I see Carlo passing by and I hold up a finger. “Can you bring the girl a plate and fork? I’m going to share with her.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Carlo says. “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”

As Carlo walks away, Billie looks at me and smiles, touching my hand.

#

The rain is falling by the time we hit the road.  Adam’s in the front, driving, with me and Billie in the back and I don’t know where in the hell we’re going.  It reminds me of that night thirteen years ago when Claire and I were sitting in the backseat of that Franklin Grove Police car, not allowed to speak to one another.  We weren’t allowed to speak, but my right hand crept across the seat, reaching toward hers, and our fingers touched on the long journey to the station.

“When we get to the motel,” Adam says, “I’m going to drop you two off and allow you to get to know one another, so to speak, and then I’ll come back in a little bit and we’ll have lots and lots of fun.”

I hold Billie’s hand as I turn and look out the window at the rain.

“When we get to the station,” I hear the police officer’s voice echoing in my head, “you two are to stay quiet.  Miss MacGregor, we’ll be contacting your stepfather to let him know he can pick you up.  Miss West, we’ll be contacting your aunt to let her know we located her stolen Ford convertible.  As for the rest…”

Adam turns off the road into a gravel lot with a huge neon sign that reads GYPSY MOTEL.  He parks the car in front of the office and turns to us.

“Wait here,” he says. “Don’t go anywhere.”

He climbs out and closes the door.

You’ve got the key, you sonofabitch.  Where are we supposed to go?

I lean against the window and close my eyes, feeling my head aching behind them.  I see the inside of the Franklin Grove Police Station, that clock above the big doors with the little hand between the three and the four and the big hand dangling between the five and the six…

We’re holding hands, sitting on a bench shivering on a bench under a blanket some female officer threw over us, a vent blowing cold air in back of us while she’s wearing her wet clothes and I’m wearing the wet gown they forced me to put on again.

I can see it through the windows on the big doors, hear it on the roof of the building.  It’s still coming down, just as hard as when they found us together in the car, and I wish like anything they hadn’t found us so we could still be out there free together, in the backseat of the car in the rain.

“All right,” she whispers to me. “I say we make a break for it.”

I turn to her and I see that smile, the kind of smile that makes me want to smile, and oh, I try so hard to smile at her, looking into those amazing blue eyes when I hear those big doors beneath the clock swing open.

“All right,” I hear Jack’s voice. “I’m here to pick up Amelia MacGregor…”

“Amelia,” I hear Adam say as he opens the door for me. “Wake up, my dear.”

I think of the way Jack opened the door for me on the Hudson after the long, quiet ride home.  As Billie and I trail behind Adam, my stepfather’s voice echoes in my ears.

“I didn’t disturb your mother.  You take off that wet dress and step under a nice hot shower, Sweetheart.”

Adam unlocks the door of cabin number 11 and ushers us inside.  He turns and looks at us and smiles.

“Ladies,” he says, “I rented cabin ten and cabin twelve as well so we’ll have plenty of privacy.”

He looks to me and winks.

“Amelia, don’t think about sneaking out of here,” he says. “There’s nowhere to go.”

We move toward the door and he gives me a big grin.

“I’m trusting you to get her ready for me,” he says. “I’m going to take a nap in number ten.  Don’t forget to lock it.  I have a key.”  

He walks out the door and I close and lock it after him.  I turn to Billie and see her smiling back at me.  I don’t know if she realizes what is going to happen here, if she has any idea. 

“You can sit down and relax,” I tell her, taking her by the arms and easing her toward the bed.  She sits. “I need to wash my face.”

In the bathroom, I wash it off, the makeup, the lipstick, all of it, and as I take off my dress, I close my eyes and remember that night, coming out of the shower and drying off, thinking about how nice my stepfather was being, then wrapping myself in a towel because my robe wasn’t there.  I remember coming out into the hallway, crossing over to my bedroom, finding him sitting on my bed and waiting for me.

“This is interesting,” he says, reading from the notebook I was writing in Thursday night. “’I know now that I am in love with Claire West and I have to tell her about it as soon as I have the chance.’” He smiles at me. “Did you tell her last night, I mean, before the two of you…?” He stands up and grabs me, pushing me against the dresser, yanking off the towel so I am forced to cover myself. “You’re never going to see her again.  Do you hear me?  And this filth is going in the garbage can to get burned, every page of every notebook, you dirty…”

I lean over the bathroom sink, covering my ears.

“No more!  No more!  No more!” I shout, hearing it echo back at me off the bathroom walls. 

I’m done with all of it.

I open the bathroom door and come out to find Billie standing right outside with a look of concern on her face.

“You all right, Ma’am?” she asks. “Ma’am, you look pretty without your dress on.”

“I’m fine, Billie,” I tell her. “But we need to be ready.  We need to be ready when he comes back.”

“What’s wrong, Ma’am?”

“Billie, you’ve got to understand, I want to help you,” I tell her. “Do you know what Frank and the people he works for want you to do?”

“Well…” she looks at me, dropping her chin and looking at the floor. “I saw it a few times.”

“What about you?” I ask her. “Have you done anything?  This is important.  Have you kissed a man, touched a man, done anything to a man?”

“Well, I…” she says. “I touched a man’s th-thing inside the movie house.”

“Really?” I ask her. “How was it?”

“It was OK at first,” she says. “Then it was a big, sticky mess.”

I smile at her.  I approach her, I help her to take off her dress and I stand back and look her up and down.

“Billie,” I tell her, “you are beautiful.”

I move closer again and I take off the bra, looking at the dark nipples standing out on her perfect little breasts, then I kneel down and slip her out of her panties.

“Very beautiful,” I tell her, looking into those dark eyes. “Have you ever kissed a man… or woman… anyone?”

“You mean…” she looked down, “like in the movies?”

“Like in the movies,” I say.

“No.”

I step closer, put my arms around her, and move my lips closer to hers.  I am able to kiss her all of two seconds before I hear the key in the lock.

“Sorry, girls,” Adam says. “I couldn’t sleep.”

He closes the door and locks it.

“Well, look at the two of you, makin’ friends already,” he says. “Oh my god, Millie, would you look at that sweet body of hers,” he goes on, moving toward Billie, reaching for her, grabbing on her behind as she hugs against me, her heart pounding.

“Easy… easy…” I whisper. “We’ve got all night, right?”

“I suppose,” he says. “All right, Amelia.  Suppose you teach her how to suck a cock.”

I look him in the eye and I feel a burning hatred as he takes off his suit and his pants and drops his underpants, showing his prick to Billie as we get on our knees, side by side, and I guide her hand stroking it, bringing him to erection.  I show her how to lick it and she watches, but she hesitates.

“You better do it,” I whisper in her ear. “If you don’t, you’ll get in trouble.”

She licks it up and down and all around like I showed her.

“Good job,” Adam says. “Now put it in your mouth.”

Billie looks up at him and looks at the prick and she opens her mouth and tries to do it, but she only gets the head in her mouth when she pulls away, choking and coughing.

“Come on, little whore,” Adam says, slapping her face. “Do it.”

That’s when I jump on him, wrapping one arm around his neck and squeezing as I punch him hard with the other fist.  He grabs my arm and flips me over, tossing me on the bed.  He finds his pants, digs into a pocket, and comes out with a switchblade.  He advances on me and somehow I kick away the knife, so he wraps his hands around my throat instead.

I’m going to die.  I know it.  It’s all been for nothing. He’ll have his way with Billie and bury me somewhere deep in the earth.

Suddenly, his hands let go, his eyes staring at me vacantly as he falls on top of me.  I struggle and push as I cough and catch my breath, crawling out from underneath him.  He’s still breathing, but there’s the switchblade knife in his back. Billie’s staring down at him with her dark eyes open wide.

“He was gonna kill you, Amelia,” she says, getting my name right. “He was gonna kill you.”

THE END