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Sally's Secret Lover


Chapter 1


I wonder why it is, Sally Denham thought quizzically to herself, that
nothing in life ever turns out quite the way you think it will? Take
me, for instance, a born and bred New Englander -- what am I doing in
Quiggville, Tennessee? I'm not even sure I like the South (perhaps
'approve of' was more the term), yet here I am practically committed to
spending the rest of my life here! Once Ray gets his partnership we'll
be committed for sure.

Funny, how the expression had slipped into both their vocabularies so
that one or the other of them seemed to use it several times a day.
Once we get the partnership. Will our lives really change so radically,
and for the better, when the magic day comes? As a matter of black and
white practicality they would. We know what the d**gstore grosses every
year, and the net. Half that net will be ours ... not just a salary. A
salary that was far too low considering what pharmacists were making
elsewhere, even taking into account that this apartment over the store
was thrown in free of rent and utilities. Ray, of course, wouldn't see
that he could be making twice as much in Knoxville or Nashville, or
anywhere else in the country. And as Sally pointed out, that they could
save the necessary capital twice as fast.

"But then I wouldn't get this chance, the option that I have by working
here!"

"DO YOU mean an option in writing, like on a piece of property?"
Sally's pretty brow wrinkled slightly.

"No, not an option in the literal sense. I meant the agreement between
me and John Blodgett that I can come in as a full partner."

"And you have only his word on that?" the tiny furrows creased deeper
and her clear gray eyes were disturbed, "No witnesses or anything?"

"Honey, that's the way business is done in small Southern towns ...
just by sort of talking things over. When the time comes, we'll draw up
some kind of agreement. You have to remember that things are slow-paced
here."

She would grant that. Things were snail-paced in Quiggville, in fact,
and if it wasn't for the appointments of her piano pupils she often
would not know what day of the week it was. Yet to see Ray so happy and
absorbed in his work was worth it all, she felt. Traditionally a wife
was the helpmate of her husband and should make the sacrifices and
endure the necessary hardships to give him his start.

When they had met on the campus, Ray had made his prospects clear from
the very beginning. His parents were dirt-poor farmers from the
mountain area of Tennessee and he was attending school through a
scholarship and money he had saved while in the army. Sally was not
wealthy by any means, but certainly better off financially and in
family background. They had married during their senior year and moved
to Quiggville right after graduation. Ray had been recruited with
glowing promises by John Blodgett ... he needed a pharmacist
immediately; the old man who had the job had died and the local
residents had to go ten miles to the county seat to have prescriptions
filled. In answer to Ray's questions about a share in the business he
said he would be willing to take in a partner as soon as Ray could
raise "a little cash to bind the deal" as he was occupied with other
business interests and did not like to work in the store himself.

Sally never forgot her first look at Quiggville. It was little more
than a crossroads, actually, with a square in the center of town where
the roads met. The important stores and churches were located on the
square, with a grassy park and the Confederate monument in the center.
Stretching beyond that were a few blocks of houses in each direction
along the shady quiet streets ... and then the shabby, haphazardly-
placed houses of the black people. A half-mile out of town was a new
subdivision of rambling brick homes where the younger business and
professional people lived and entertained each other with rounds of
barbecues and cocktail parties.

The social position of the Denhams was not yet clearly defined. Ray had
joined the Jaycees and Sally had been invited to some women's meetings,
but they were not really "in," another fact which she found galling. Of
course it was difficult to accept invitations or to entertain because
of the long hours Ray worked and their shabby old apartment. Sally had
painted and done a lot of fixing, but it was still dreary and
depressing with its old-fashioned high ceilings and antiquated plumbing
fixtures.

When they got the partnership they would buy a lot in Hickory Acres --
their credit would, be good then for a home building loan from the
local bank. And they could afford to have a baby.

If we're still sleeping together, she said to herself. Oh, God, what
makes me think of things like that? Of course we'll be sleeping
together ... we're husband and wife, and that's one of the most
important things about marriage, isn't it? Yet after a year and a half
together, the inexorable truth was that their sexual relationship was
getting worse, not better. Since they had settled into the routine of
their life in Quiggville, particularly, Ray initiated the sexual act
less and less frequently. Sally never made advances to him, of course;
she felt that was the man's prerogative and in any case her own sex
drive seemed to be rather low ... she could live with or without it ...
actually it was just a little bit distasteful to her, the whole messy
thing. But she did worry about Ray's satisfaction and whether it was
normal for him to so often be too tired or preoccupied?

Just last Sunday afternoon there had been a peculiar episode. She had
been washing the lunch dishes while Ray sat in the living room reading
the paper. Sally had not heard him enter the kitchen until the moment
when he seized her around the waist. Of course she screamed and then
laughed and they stood there together for a moment. Then Ray's hands
had slipped upward to cup her firmly rounded breasts and she felt his
lips nuzzling the back of her neck as he squeezed and kneaded the
pliant, resilient flesh under his fingers. It wasn't that she didn't
like to be caressed in that way, but her hands were wet and soapy and
she didn't want to ruin his clean shirt ... they were going for a drive
as soon as she finished the dishes.

So she had continued with her work and acknowledged his presence only
with a brief affectionate smile tossed over her shoulder at her young
husband. He had kept his hands on her breasts and pressed closer behind
her until she was wedged firmly between his body and the sink and his
loins were up tight against the ample spheres of her buttocks. Suddenly
she was uncomfortably aware that Ray had an erection and the hard
throbbing bulk of his penis was pressing into the crevice at the end of
her spine. Perversely, her only reaction was annoyance. Why on earth,
at such an inappropriate time? A peaceful Sunday afternoon and they
were almost ready to go out. She set the last saucepan in the drain and
pulled the plug, still pretending not to notice Ray's obvious arousal
although his penis was now digging into her to the point of widening
the split between the two soft fleshy cheeks of her buttocks. His hands
slipped from her taut-stretched nipples and began to work up under her
apron, massaging her flat little belly while from the rear he slowly
rubbed his loins against her with insinuating pressure.

"Sally," his warm breath stirred in her left ear, "let's go in the
bedroom, honey!"

"Oh, Ray ..." she protested gently, "here I've been hurrying to get
ready while you read the paper, and now you want to fool around."

"Who's fooling around? I mean business -- I'm horny as hell!"

"Ray!" she hated that vulgar expression. "I just don't understand why -
- I mean, of all times," it was difficult to hold her voice steady when
his fingers had reached her pubic mound and were moving over the
sensitive area in a slowly rotating motion that despite her annoyance
was making her feel curiously weak and warm up between her legs. At
that moment the wall telephone rang.

"Damn it to hell!" her husband cursed with surprising ferocity.

Sally twisted in his grip, "A -- aren't you going to answer it?"

He shook his head and resumed his lewd probing of his wife's trembling
loins. "It's my day off."

"But it may be a customer needing a prescription."

The phone kept on ringing insistently as the young couple stood there
locked in an obscene embrace -- with Ray's hand thrust up between his
wife's legs. Then, abruptly -- almost roughly -- he released her and
pushed her away as he moved to snatch the telephone receiver.

It was a customer, a heart patient, who had just discovered he was out
of the digitalis pills he must take daily.

"All right," Ray said wearily, "come down to the store in about fifteen
minutes. No -- no free delivery nights or Sundays, only during regular
store hours. You can send a taxi if you don't feel like coming
yourself, Mr. Pickett."

Sally was already busy drying her hands. "We could drop the pills off
... we'll be out in the car anyway," she whispered to Ray, but he was
already hanging up. She carefully avoided looking at the front of his
slacks where she knew the tell-tale bulge still pushed out the fly in
an incongruous manner. He was glaring coldly at her.

"Be damned if we will. If he took his last pill yesterday, why couldn't
he come in then for a refill? Because he enjoys making a big emergency
deal out of it!" He strode angrily out of the room and she heard him go
noisily down the stairs to open the d**g store.

Poor dear, he'd been working entirely too many hours, and should at
least have one day of rest in the week. It seemed so unfair that John
Blodgett should reap all the profits of the d**g store when he did
nothing more than go over the books occasionally, while Ray was on his
feet from nine to six with an additional three hours on Friday night.
And nearly every evening there was a call for a rush prescription,
usually a c***d suddenly taken sick. There was of course Minnie, the
efficient spinster who clerked in the front of the store and supervised
the moronic teenagers who came and went at the soda fountain. But the
burden of the purchasing and inventory, as well as the busy pharmacy
department, fell on Ray.

When they finally did set out in their old hardtop, however, his usual
good humor seemed to have returned. They had long since explored every
road leading out of Quiggville, for these rides were their chief
recreational outlet, but still it was interesting to observe the
countryside at different seasons of the year. The spring was Sally's
favorite time ... it was so much more lush than a New England spring
and came a full two months earlier. Now, at the end of a dry summer,
there seemed to be a dusty haze in the air and a sleepiness had settled
over the scorching red-clay fields.

They drove first to Hickory Acres to inspect the newly-staked-out lots
in the undeveloped portion of the subdivision.

"Someone's bought the corner one," she touched her husband's arm and
pointed to the sign which was slashed diagonally by a bright yellow
strip bearing the letters SOLD.

"Yeah ... so I see. But that's the only one. They're not moving so
fast, what with the recession ..." Ray was careful not to voice their
unspoken fear that the lot of their choice might be purchased by
someone else first. They got out of the car and went through the ritual
of pacing off where the house would sit and where the front door would
be.

The rest of the day Sally remembered had gone quite smoothly. They had
a light supper and spent the evening watching TV. When the late news
came on Sally had gone ahead and showered as she liked her shower or
bath, at night whereas Ray preferred one in the morning. When he came
into the bedroom she was already in bed, with only the sheet pulled
over her. In her fresh cotton baby-doll nightie she looked like a
c***d, except for the outline of her high, curving breasts that
protruded provocativeiy over the fold of the sheet and faint dip of the
"vee" between her legs where the light material bunched.

Ray stripped in a rapid, business-like way and stood naked beside her
for a few seconds; he never wore pajamas ... it was a habit she simply
could not talk him out of. In the brief interval before his hand
touched the light switch and plunged the room into darkness, Sally's
wide gray eyes rested lovingly on his tall, lanky form. She did love
every inch of him, from the black hair that had a habit of falling over
his right eye, to his big-boned hands that could be so gentle, right
down to his size twelve feet! (In her mental inventory, Sally passed
hurriedly over her husband's genitals which now hung down flaccidly
between his hairy legs but were still impressive in their proportions.)

She snuggled closer to him as he climbed into the bed and stretched out
beside her, almost positive that they would make love tonight since he
had been so eager for sex that afternoon. She was determined to try
very hard to enjoy the act this time ... yes, even the last of it when
he filled her with his messy, sticky cum!

But Ray seemed to have entirely forgotten about the incident and
apparently sex was not on his mind tonight. He lay on his back for a
few moments, then rolled over with an affectionate pat delivered to her
backside. "G'night, honey."

"G-goodnight, darling," she whispered back timidly. She felt surprised
and oddly tense as she lay there beside his warm naked body and almost
wanted to reach over and stroke him or somehow indicate her
willingness. She didn't want to make any brazen announcement, however,
and after a while she knew by his slow deep breathing that Ray had
fallen asleep.

She really couldn't imagine why she was dwelling on the events of last
Sunday ... except it seemed to mark some kind of turning point in their
deteriorating sexual relationship, as though her rejection that
afternoon had really discouraged her husband. But that was absurd, they
were still practically newlyweds and only needed time to make these
adjustments and solve whatever problems had arisen. It wasn't a problem
as far as she was concerned ... although she found sex disappointing
and not very enjoyable at best, she would go through with it a
reasonable amount of times for Ray's sake. She and Ray might have
different temperaments, but each respected the other's desires and
interests. For instance, Ray had not wanted her to give up her music
and had bought an old upright piano for her to practice on and to
instruct her half-dozen pupils. Why, Lord, she had a pupil coming for a
lesson in twenty minutes, and here she was sitting around daydreaming!
She began to move automatically around the living room, straightening
up.

In the d**gstore below, Ray Denham had for once caught up on the list
of prescriptions to be filled and they sat along the counter in a neat
row while he worked on the wholesale orders at the old-fashioned desk.
Suddenly he heard a gravelly southern accent from the front of the
store and recognized it immediately as John Blodgett's voice.

"How 'do, Miss Minnie! You doin' all right?" and then without waiting
for her answer, "Good, good!"

Blodgett breezed by the soda fountain with a lecherous wink at the
clerk, "Honey, bring me and Mister Denham some cokes ... with lots of
ice, c***d, lots of ice."

He eased his considerable bulk behind the prescription counter, "Hi
there, Ray -- you doin' all right?"

"Just fine, John," Ray said placidly, in the knowledge that business
was good and getting steadily better. He pulled up a chair for the
older man. Blodgett was sweating, staining his immaculate light blue
sports shirt, and he took out a handkerchief and passed it over his
ruddy face and thick shock of graying hair. He was a handsome man of
about fifty, beginning to show unmistakable signs of overindulgence in
good food and drink but still fit and powerful looking.

"Another hot one," he sighed. "We sure do need some rain awful bad. All
my sweet corn is just dryin' up ... just parchin' under that sun."

"Is that what you raise out there, corn?" Ray asked, waiting for his
boss to come around to the purpose of his visit.

"Oh, I raise a little bit of this and that. Main thing, course, is my
beef cattle. I'm just a gentleman farmer, and I guess that's a good
thing, because it's hard to make money at farming these days."

The girl appeared with two large cokes and Blodgett nudged Ray's elbow.
"Look at that," he said in a husky undertone, "Just look at that sweet
little ass on that c***d!" It was true that the girl's nylon mini
uniform barely cleared her tender, youthful buttocks. Ray had actually
been too busy to notice her nubile figure before. Blodgett opened the
lower desk drawer and brought out a bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey he
kept there. He added a generous slug of the amber liquid to each coke.

"Course you got yourself something a lot nicer than that right
upstairs," he continued in an aggrieved tone. "Why, man, you're
practically still on your honeymoon. But when you get to be my age you
sure will appreciate those cute, raunchy little teenagers, let me tell
you!" he pushed one of the drinks toward Ray.

"I don't like to drink in the store," Ray said doubtfully as he picked
it up. "You know -- old ladies come in and smell it on your breath,
they spread it all over town that you've taken to drink."

"You're a smart man, Ray," John Blodgett said admiringly. "Yes sir,
always lookin' ahead ... a damn smart man. You know, I just got the bad
news the other day that I'm gonna have to cut down on the brew myself.
Yep, just found out that my blood pressure's gone sky-high. Old Doc
wasn't one bit encouraging ... said I'm headed straight for a heart
attack if I don't slow down and take things easy. Fact is, that's why I
stopped by."

Ray Denham had a sudden premonition that something might be wrong, just
from the way Blodgett's guileless blue eyes were roving over the
shelves of pharmaceuticals and avoiding his face.

"It looks like I have to think about retiring long before I'm sixty-
five," the older man continued, "or sort of semi-retiring ... I'm only
going to keep hold of the properties that'll work for me without me
working on them ... see what I mean?"

Ray shook his head and waited to hear what was coming next.

"No, I reckon you don't. Well, take this store, for instance. Since you
took over it runs pretty smooth, I certainly got to admit that, but
there's still the bookkeeping and figuring the taxes. I want to get
shut of it. Instead of taking in a partner, I've decided to sell out,
Ray -- the whole works."

There was a moment of absolute silence. Then Ray took a hefty swallow
of the sweet, whiskey-laced cola. "T-the building, too?" Blodgett's
stunning announcement had caught him so suddenly that it was taking him
several seconds to assimilate the knowledge and what it would mean for
him.

"Oh, not the building. You won't catch me selling a piece of prime real
estate that's right on the square. No, I mean the inventory, all the
fixtures, the good will ... everything that's inside these four walls.
Then I'll give the buyer a long-term lease ..." he smiled at Ray. "You
know, I was really lookin' forward to us working as partners ...
carrying out your ideas for remodeling ... but when I got the word from
Doc I knew I just had to think of my health first. And there's Lauralee
-- I don't want to up and die and leave her a widow."

"Yes ... sure," Ray said, his mind going inevitably to Sally's worried
questions, nothing in writing? You only have his word for it? He felt
curiously light and hollow, as if the support had been knocked out of
him. How could he tell her? How could he ever tell Sally?

"Have you, uh," he cleared his throat, "have you set a price?"

Blodgett settled himself firmly in the wooden chair and tilted the
creaking piece of furniture back on two legs. "Well," he crunched the
ice from his drink loudly between his teeth, "I'm thinking in the
neighborhood of fifty thousand, Ray."

"F-fifty?"

"Think about the inventory. You know yourself what's sitting here in
the inventory."

Ray knew. He also knew that much of it, including the last big d**g
order, was not paid for yet. Still -- perhaps it was a fair price.
Although it seemed an astronomical sum, especially since Blodgett had
promised to make him a partner as soon as he had $5000. By putting $200
in the bank every month, he had already saved $2800, he was more than
halfway there ... but now he wondered whether Blodgett would have held
to the bargain, after all? "B-but, John, over the next few years your
profits from the store will be much more than that. I can run
everything -- you wouldn't have to spend any time here at all unless
you wanted to.

"There's something in what you say," the big man admitted, "only the
thing is, Ray, that I'll be spending my winters in Florida from now on
... buyin' myself one of these condominium apartments right on the
beach, and me and Lauralee are fixin' to go down there just as soon as
l get everything straightened out here. Now those apartments cost a
heap of money and I got to raise some cash ... ever'body thinks I'm a
real rich son of a bitch ... I don't complain, but the fact is it's all
tied up in real estate. Naturally we couldn't sell the farm -- it's the
old Quigg place, belonged to Lauralee's folks since God knows when --
and we'll live there summers or whenever we take a notion to come back
to town. And like I already said, I don't want to part with any
property in the business district. 'Bout the only thing left is this
d**gstore."

"I see," Ray nodded, trying to control his wildly spiralling doubts and
thoughts, "How much -- how much time will I have, in case I could maybe
make some kind of deal to buy the place?"

"That would please me very much, if you see yourself in a position to
buy. Well, I hope to get down there to Florida around the first of
November ... so that leaves about two months. I, uh, I already had one
offer, Ray, and they agreed to meet that price I mentioned. I won't say
who the offer was from, but it's a big chain of discount d**gstores."

As Blodgett sipped his drink and continued to unfold the story, Ray
Denham felt a rising anger that blotted out caution and made calm
speech impossible. "Look here, John," he pointed out, "you know I
graduated at the top of my class. I had my choice of jobs and this was
the lowest-paid of all, but I took it, for just one reason. I wanted to
own my own business, and that's what you promised me -- and I thought
you'd be as good as your word!"

"Now hold on, son ..." Blodgett tried to protest, but Ray plunged
wildly on, raising his voice so that he could be heard throughout the
store.

"Now you tell me that you've been dealing behind my back to sell the
business right out from under me! Why, I don't think you ever had any
intention of keeping our agreement; you just wanted to hire a cheap
pharmacist!"

"That's enough, Ray," Blodgett's voice was still mild, but his pale
blue eyes glittered with a cold light and his florid face had reddened
to a deeper shade. He stood up. "You better simmer down before you say
something you're going to regret later on. I know you're disappointed
and I'm not sayin' you don't have maybe some right to be. But I had no
way of knowing my health was going to fold up on me, so to speak. Why,
when I brought you down here I was lookin' forward to us running the
store for years to come, and I'll be very happy if you can raise the
money to buy me out. You're well thought of here in Quiggville ... you
and your little wife ... and if I was you I wouldn't want to spoil that
reputation by gettin' all hotheaded. I'll be talking to you later."

He turned on his heel and strolled through the store in a leisurely
manner as if they had discussed nothing more important than the
weather. Ray stared after the retreating figure, his fists clenched
u*********sly, until Blodgett passed through the front door. Then he
reached for the bottle of whiskey, poured a double shot into his coke,
tilted his head back and drank.

He was thankful for the sound of the faltering piano notes that could
be faintly heard from upstairs ... Sally had a pupil ... he could
postpone giving her the news at least for a little while. Me didn't
have to tell her at all today, of course, but he knew that he would. As
much as he loved Sally, he wondered if it would have been better to
wait a few years before marrying. A man had no business getting married
before he was making a good income and could provide the things girls
had come to expect. Why should Sally be penalized ... not able to have
a modern house with nice furniture and the latest appliances ... or
pretty new clothes? They'd never even had a real honeymoon, a thing
which Ray bitterly regretted most of all. Because maybe their sex life
would have gotten off to a better start if he had been able to take his
inexperienced young bride to some romantic, relaxing spot for the first
few nights. Instead of staying in some plush hotel or motel with a
pool, they'd moved directly into a grubby little campus apartment that
was as bad as the one they lived in now. Her folks had been very upset
... they'd wanted the couple to wait at least until graduation ... they
hadn't given Sally any presents or any financial help at all except
paying her college fees for the rest of the year. No, they hadn't
wanted their daughter to throw herself away on some no-account
southerner!

It seemed ironic now that the quality about Sally which had first
attracted him to her was a sort of coolness about her ... something
that said "don't touch me." He was sure that Sally was one of the very
few virgins on the campus, which had indeed proved to be the case.
Fiercely proud as he was, it was important to Ray that his wife should
be a woman whom no other man besides himself had ever possessed ... or
ever would possess!

Once they were married, though, he had looked for a change in her
standoffish attitude. He knew she loved him and had been eager to marry
as soon as possible. He had mistakenly believed she was just as eager
for the physical side of marriage, but from the first night, sex had
been a fiasco ... his bride seemed to turn into a lump of ice under
him. Maybe it took more time than he'd realized, especially for a girl
brought up in a very conventional manner as Sally had been.

Absently, he carried the empty cola cups out to the soda fountain. The
girl reached out to take them, tossing the paper liners into the trash
can and stacking the gleaming metal bases expertly on a shelf.
"Something else for you, Mr. Denham?" she inquired solicitously, her
made-up dark eyes bright with curiosity. No doubt she'd overheard the
row with John Blodgett.

"Uh, no ... thanks," he stared at her. God, he couldn't even remember
the little tart's name; she was new ... long black hair fixed into an
elaborately artificial set and a long slender body that seemed far too
mature for her sixteen or so years. Ray ran his suddenly dry tongue
around his mouth ... it must be the whiskey ... sweet little ass,
Blodgett had said ... Christ, it was a beautiful ass, perfectly
outlined by the electrically clinging nylon fabric ... and all at once
he found himself wondering what it would be like to rip the skimpy
uniform off the girl ... spread her legs out.

Drops of sweat beaded on Ray's brow. Yes, how would it feel to ram his
cock into that soft little belly? Christ, he groaned inwardly, how
could he think of such things when he had a beautiful young wife
upstairs at this very moment? He hadn't so much as looked at another
girl since he married Sally.

Yet as he stood there in confusion, he was uncomfortably aware that his
cock had in mere seconds responded to his lewd thoughts about the soda
fountain waitress and it was now lying heavily against his stomach,
fully erect. Turning hastily, he retreated to the prescription
department. God, what would happen to his "good name" in this town if
he started making passes at his clerks? As he sat there staring blankly
at the forgotten list for the wholesale house, Miss Minnie suddenly
entered the little cubicle, her face flushed with excitement.

"Mr. Denham!" she blurted, "he's going to sell the store, isn't he?"

"I -" obviously she knew something was up, so why evade her question?
"That's what he's talking about, yes."

"I knew it! I knew the other day that something was wrong. Mr. Blodgett
brought some men from Memphis in, they was going all over everything
... asking questions."

"When was that?" Ray inquired.

"Well, you weren't here. Must have been the day you were in the city.
See, he made sure to bring 'em when you wouldn't be around!"

"Look," Ray said, "I'm sure it's as much of a shock to you as it is to
me, Miss Minnie. More, because you've worked here a lot longer than I
have. But I don't think you have anything to worry about. Whoever the -
- the new owner is, he'll need employees, and there's no one who knows
the store like you do."

"Mmmm ... and what about you, Mr. Denham?"

He shrugged unhappily. "I don't know. We'll just have to see. If I
can't get at least part ownership, then I don't want to work for
someone else. I can do that anywhere, for a hell of a lot more money!

When Ray came upstairs that night, a half hour after closing time,
Sally sensed immediately that something was wrong. It was in the
defeated slump of his shoulders and the bleak gloominess of his face.
But she said nothing, waiting for him to tell her about it. She had
fixed him a good dinner for the hot weather ... cold sliced ham, snap
beans, macaroni salad and cornbread. Sally was proud that she was
learning to cook in the southern way.

But her husband only picked at the tempting food she loaded on his
plate, and halfway through the tense meal he suddenly laid his fork
down and announced to her, "Blodgett's selling the d**gstore -- to a
discount chain."

"W-what?" Sally stammered, her heart plummeting. "But he can't do that,
Ray! Where did you hear it?"

When he told her she kept on shaking her head in disbelief, "I just
can't understand how he could do such a thing." She pushed her chair
back abruptly and came around to her husband's side, taking him in her
arms and holding him protectively against her warm body as if she were
comforting a c***d, "Don't you care, Ray!" she said fiercely. "Don't
you worry about it for one minute. Oooh, I never trusted him -- that
smooth-talking old hypocrite!"

She meant to soften the blow, to bolster his crushed feelings.
Unfortunately, her action and choice of words only brought home to Ray
more strongly his feeling of failure. The husband should be the one to
comfort the wife and shield her from life's harsh realities -- not the
other way around. And then to rub salt in his wounds she had to say
that she had seen through John Blodgett all the time whereas he had
been taken in by the glowing promises.

In fact, Sally's thoughts were racing rapidly into the future ... her
only sorrow was for Ray. Why, it wasn't the worst thing that could have
happened, after all. They had money in the bank ... now they could
leave Quiggville and make a whole new start somewhere else ...
somewhere more lively and stimulating. But one glimpse at the
desperately unhappy face of her husband sent these hopeful thoughts
crashing into limbo. Ray had to make it here, he had to prove himself
in exactly the way that he had set out to do.

"Darling," she said gently, "maybe we can buy the store. I mean how do
we know unless we try? It is a lot of money, but everyone here knows
you ... Mr. Quigg at the bank is John Blodgett's brother-in-law, you
know. I'm sure he'd consider loaning you the money ... Mr. Blodgett
could talk to him ... why, everyone in town likes you!"

"That isn't exactly security for fifty thousand bucks," he pointed out
grimly. "But ... you're right, I guess. It won't do any harm to ask --
we've got to know where we stand."

Ray did not fall asleep easily that night, but Sally lay awake long
after he finally dropped off. It seemed that the crisis had awakened
all her instincts ... she was prepared to fight for her man, to do
anything to insure that he got what he wanted. She believed she had an
idea ... although she'd never been able to bring herself to completely
trust Mr. Blodgett, she must admit that his manner toward her had
always been extremely courteous and friendly. In fact, he had treated
her with real old-fashioned southern politeness and had been very
solicitous about whether she was happily settled in Quiggville and
liked his community.

Somehow she felt that ... well, that she might have more influence with
him than Ray would. Ray was apt to get hotheaded, as he admitted he had
this afternoon. If only he hadn't really alienated John Blodgett,
perhaps she could persuade him to change his mind about selling out, or
at the very least enlist his aid in getting them a loan. He would not
be so bluntly business-like with a woman, she felt, and she did not
mind begging for Ray's sake. Yes, she must manage to see John Blodgett
alone, and without Ray's knowledge of the meeting. God, Ray would kill
her if he even guessed what she was thinking!

* * * * *

Arranging to see her husband's boss was not so easy, however, Sally
Denham found. He did maintain an office over the bank, but it was a
sort of dummy office. There was no secretary and you could never tell
when Blodgett himself would be there. Sally took to watching the square
from her front windows for a glimpse of the tobacco-colored station
wagon that he drove.

Meanwhile she tried to persuade Ray that it would not do to present
their case too hastily at the bank, they must be organized with all the
figures on the store's volume of business, show that Ray was a capable
administrator. Her poor darling had been going around like a zombie
ever since that day he found out about the sale of the store. She just
couldn't understand why it meant so much to him ... after all, he was a
young man, only twenty-six ... how could anyone be a failure at twenty-
six? She supposed it had something to do with being poor as a c***d ...
wanting something other than farming ...no doubt the business people
with whom Ray's family had to deal, and beg credit from, had seemed to
a c***d like the very pillars of the economy or something. Her own
father, a moderately successful salesman, had never worried about
working for others, but Ray had this craving, this obsession, to be his
own boss.

On Friday afternoon before the Labor Day weekend she at last saw the
brown station wagon parked opposite the bank and knew that here was her
opportunity. At first she thought of telephoning to ask for an
appointment, but she nervously dropped the phone back on the cradle
after dialing three numbers. She hurried into the bedroom, unzipping
her dress as she walked, and let it fall to the floor. She selected a
sheer pale yellow dress that seemed ladylike and fresh, though a trifle
short. Then she released her long ash-brown hair from its pony tail and
hastily brushed it down over her shoulders. She realized that this made
her look younger ... perhaps, she thought, surveying herself in the
mirror, she had gotten a trifle heavier since marriage, although it
certainly had not harmed her looks. It only made the dress cling
faithfully to every curving high-point of her figure. On the hanger it
had seemed so demure and simple, but now when it was stretched over her
high thrusting breasts and caressing her soft fluid hipline, the dress
was almost blatantly sexy. It would do nicely, she thought, for the
purpose of charming John Blodgett onto their side. She hastily buckled
on white sandals, dabbed a touch of lipstick on her small, prettily
curved mouth and picked up her purse.

She hurried down the stairs and out of their private entrance which
fortunately did not open into the d**gstore. God, it was hot ... she
would be perspiring before she had crossed the square! One of the
things Sally disliked about Quiggville was that everyone knew your
business, since everyone's business was transacted on the square --
bank, doctor's office, finance company or whatever. Hopefully she would
not be observed entering the side door that led to the rooms over the
bank, although of course she had a perfect right to go there if she
wished. She reached the entrance without meeting anyone she knew and
let herself into the gloomy hallway. The sagging old oiled wood stairs
creaked beneath her light tread.

John Blodgett's office door stood open. Evidently he had been looking
for something, as his desk was strewn with papers. As Sally reached his
doorway he looked up, face blank for only a second. Then he smiled in
welcome.

"Why, hi there, Miz Denham! You doin' all right?"

"Fine, thank you," she acknowledged, all her courage abruptly deserting
her.

"Well, just come right in. You, uh, lookin' for me?"

"Yes, if you're not busy, I would like to talk with you for a few
minutes." As she moved toward the chair he indicated, Sally nearly
tripped over a big black and tan German shepherd that had been
completely concealed by the desk. "Oh!" she exclaimed nervously, and
the a****l raised its head and regarded her alertly although not
otherwise moving from its reclining position.

"That's just Duke," Blodgett chuckled. "You 'fraid of dogs, Miz
Denham?"

"N-no, I love dogs," she laughed self-consciously. "He startled me,
that's all." She reached down to stroke the dog's glossy head. She had
seen the magnificent a****l before, usually looking out the rear window
of the station wagon. Sally crossed her shapely bare legs and folded
her hands demurely in her lap, looking directly into the ruddy,
handsome face of her husband's boss.

"Mr. Blodgett, Ray -- Ray and I are very disappointed about your
decision to sell the d**gstore. That's what I want to talk to you
about. Ray doesn't know that I'm here ... it was entirely my own idea
to come ... s-so I hope you won't say anything to him about it."

"Well, now, is that a good idea, for a nice little wife to keep secrets
from her husband?" he drawled, but from his understanding smile Sally
knew he was only teasing her. In fact, his easy-going informality was
putting her more and more at ease, so she plunged on.

"No, of course it isn't, but I guess wives have always interfered a
little bit ... when they thought it was necessary. You see, I
understand my husband so much better than anyone else does. He's very
proud -- too proud to come right out and tell you how much he wants to
own that d**gstore, or at least be a partner. I'm sure you know that's
why we decided to come here in the first place," she made this last
remark rather pointed and then looked up anxiously to see whether it
had offended him. Apparently not, for he was still smiling in a kindly
way. He seemed to be staring at her legs and she shifted her position a
bit in the chair and tugged her skirt down before continuing, "Ray is
going to ask the bank for a loan, to buy you out. I-I'm sure that
your... your help, your recommendation would be very, uh, persuasive to
the people at the bank. I believe you're related to the bank
president?"

"brother-in-law," John Blodgett said, nodding, "Lee Quigg is my wife's
twin."

"Oh, really -- twins? I didn't know that."

"'Course that doesn't mean I can tell him how to run his bank," the big
man pointed out, "but like you say, my opinion does carry a little
weight."

"I'm sure it carries a great deal of weight," Sally said warmly,
"that's why I came to you. And also, of course, because I feel that I
know you ... a little, at least. I couldn't have gone to Mr. Quigg, for
instance, with such a request. Will you help us, Mr. Blodgett?" Her
gray eyes rested pleadingly on his face and she sat forward slightly in
her chair, the movement deepening the dark shadowed cleft between her
large breasts. Blodgett's gaze flicked downward and rested on those
twin mounds that were quivering noticeably from her nervousness. God
damn, he thought, but the girl had a pair of beauties! He could hardly
believe that Ray Denham's snotty New England wife was actually sitting
here in his office at this moment asking him for a favor. He had always
dismissed her as unattainable, no matter how attractive. Now, a bold
plan was rapidly taking shape in his devious, cunning mind.

"Look, Miz Denham -- may I call you Sally?" She nodded breathlessly. "I
want to help you, Sally. I sure-to-God do!" his husky southern voice
oozed sincerity, "and maybe there just might be something I can do. But
don't go gettin' your hopes up too high. We all of us business people
in this town would like to see Ray running the store. After all, he's a
Tennessean ... practically a local boy. But these aren't the best of
times, I guess you know that, and there's certain rules any bank has to
be guided by in making loans. If you start bending those rules too much
out of shape then the bank's in trouble."

"Perhaps," she said timidly, "if you feel there's no chance of our
getting the loan, you'll reconsider selling and go back to the
partnership plan?"

He smiled sadly. "I'm afraid my doctor would have something to say
about that, and Lauralee wouldn't be too happy either. Now if you and I
were going to be the partners, that might be different."

Sally was at first annoyed that he would joke about a matter which was
so very serious to her. She looked at him rather severely and he stared
back at her with a direct, disturbing gaze. Good heavens, he couldn't
be ... he wasn't suggesting ... no, she could only treat it as a
pleasantry, an inept one. So she smiled at him innocently.

She had never really had the opportunity to study John Blodgett before
at close range. He certainly did not look to be in poor health, nor old
enough to retire. Although streaked with gray, his hair was as thick as
Ray's and worn modish sideburns. He was a large man and undeniably a
handsome one and his oddly compelling gaze was raking her from head to
toe! Sally felt the first prickle of discomfort, and feared that he had
misunderstood her intentions in coming here. She had hoped of course to
take advantage of her feminine position, but not ... not by demeaning
herself!

"Is there anything you can do for us? Have you any advice?" she asked,
growing more uneasy every second that his now frankly lecherous eyes
devoured her body. He smiled in answer, slowly and confidently.

"There might be, Sally," he paused to let his words sink in. "There
just might be. Tell me -- what ever made a northern gal like you marry
a no-account like Ray Denham?"

"What do you mean, no-account?" she blazed, getting angrily to her
feet, I love Ray!" The dog, Duke, stirred and lifted his head again.
"Why, there's not another man in this stupid little town who's got one-
tenth of Ray's brains and ambition!"

"Oh, I know all that," he answered mildly, "but he hasn't got any
money, any family, any backing. You should have married a man with some
position in the world."

"Don't underestimate us, Mr. Blodgett," she said icily, "Ray will have
position some day, and I'll fight to help him get it."

"Uh-huh. And just how far are you willing to go, honey, to help your
husband?"

"Wh-what do you mean?" her pretty face wrinkled into a frown as she
tried to fathom the depths of his mind.

"Simple. I've got something you need -- influence. And you've got
something I could use. Yes sir, something I could make very good use
of," his even white teeth flashed at her. "You're a regular little
spitfire, but I admire a woman with guts -- specially when she comes
all tied up in a pretty package like you do."

"I'm afraid I don't understand you," Sally said coldly, beginning to
move around the desk with her eye on the door. But her heart was
plummeting. God, had she ruined everything?

"Let me make it crystal clear, then," Blodgett stood up, too. He turned
around and closed the door, than faced the trembling young wife. "I
like you. And after we got to know each other better, I think you'd
like me. As for that husband of yours, I didn't like the way he shot
his mouth off the other day and if I do anything to help him get the
store it will only be because of his pretty little wife and how nice
she is to me."

Sally had reached the door but found her path blocked by Blodgett's
sturdy figure. Her heart was pounding wildly and her beautiful face was
flushed with embarrassment and anger. "Let me pass," she snapped, "I
can see I've only wasted my time in coming here!"

He reached out and seized her, drawing the full length of her body
tightly against his and holding her there, immovable. Gasping with
shock, she beat ineffectually at his chest with her little fists,
meanwhile feeling his belt buckle digging into her flesh just under her
breasts and further down, something hard that poked into her stomach
and could only be ... oh, God! She was enveloped in the pleasant spicy
smell of his shaving lotion as he forced her face upward to meet his.
His open mouth enclosed her small lips and his powerful tongue inserted
itself between her clenched teeth ... pushing ... pushing into her
throat. With a muffled, strangling cry and with all her strength Sally
succeeded in twisting away, ducking her head out of the reach of his
lewdly thrusting tongue. At the same time she freed her right hand and
slapped him just as hard as she could, so that her palm smarted from
the impact.

"Ow!" he exclaimed. "Why, you little hellcat!" Instead of being angry,
however, he was smiling ... laughing down at her as though it was a
huge joke. "You'll pay me for that, in spades," he promised, rubbing
his reddened cheek. Behind Sally the dog, Duke, suddenly let out a
sharp bark and she started with fright and surprise.

"Down, boy -- stay," John Blodgett commanded calmly, grinning wryly at
the terrorized girl. "You're damn lucky Duke didn't take a nip at your
ass ... he didn't know if we were playing or it was for real. I surely
would hate to see anything happen to that cute little tail of yours!"
He was still holding her loosely and they were both breathing heavily.
"I want to see you ... very soon ... your place?"

"You're crazy!" she sputtered. "I never want to see you again ... after
this outrageous ... this ..." she couldn't find words to express her
contempt for his behavior, "you just wait 'til I tell my husband about
this!"

"If you want me to help you, those are the terms. Just call me when
you're ready, Sally. Your place, or we can go to a motel ...
personally, I think your apartment is safer, but that's up to you."

"You ... are ... insane," she hissed, "I have no intention of meeting
you anywhere. What you are suggesting is unthinkable -- you're married
-- I'm married. And even if I weren't, the very idea would disgust me!"

"Oh, but you wouldn't find the experience disgusting, honey. I can
promise you that you'll love it." His big hands began to move and
before she had realized it Sally felt her right breast cupped by his
widespread fingers, and reacted as though she had received an electric
shock. She struck his arms down and reached for the doorknob, her eyes
blinded by hot tears of rage. He caught her around the waist as she
jerked the door open and passed his offending hand gently over the
rounded swell of her buttocks, whispering hoarsely, "And remember this,
Sally, if I don't hear from you, then you can be sure Ray won't get the
loan!"

She fled at a dangerous speed down the old staircase, stopping in the
hallway below only long enough to compose herself sufficiently to step
out onto the sidewalk. The sunlight was blinding, the air oppressively
still and hot as she made her way back across the square, defeated.
John Blodgett! She still could not believe it ... John Blodgett, one of
the most important men in town ... he and his wife right at the head of
the Quiggville social circuit ... respected, admired. Ha! And he had
dared to kiss her, in the most repulsive way, a suggestive tongue kiss
... touched her breast ... asked her to meet him! It was the greatest
shock of her young life. The old lecher, yes, twice her age ... oh, he
hadn't come right out and said it in so many words, what he wanted ...
hadn't put a name to it. God help her, what had she done? And all she'd
wanted was to help her adored Ray!

Sally reached the security of her own door, unlocked it with fumbling
fingers and ran upstairs. She threw herself on the bed, still shaking
and quivering although no tears came. She wanted to cry but could not.
She was frightened.

From his dusty window John Blodgett had observed her progress every
step of the way. God damn, he chuckled, look at that little ass sway
... she sure is fit to be tied! Look at those legs ... gal's got legs
like a racehorse ... Jesus, I bet she can pump those legs in the sack,
too. Little hellcat! He saw with satisfaction that Sally did not enter
the d**gstore, but went directly to the house entrance. No, she
wouldn't be in a hurry to tell Ray about it ... it was a hundred-to-one
shot that she would tell her husband at all. Because the first thing
he'd say would be what were you doing in his office? And Sally was
smart enough to figure that out. Let it lay for a few days, just as it
was. If the snotty little bitch was so crazy about her farmer of a
husband, she'd be around. Yes sir, all he had to do was let it lay.

Still smiling, Blodgett reached down and patted Duke's furry head.
Liked her, didn't you, boy? We might just get ourselves a piece of
that, Duke, how about it? Been a while since we had any strange cunt,
hasn't it? He seated himself at the big old-fashioned desk again and
resumed going through his papers. There was a lot of work to be
straightened out before he left for Florida.

Every few minutes he would stop, however, and smile thoughtfully to
himself at the way things were working out, falling into place. He had
been trying for several seasons now to get Lauralee to move to Florida
for the whole winter. She had proved stubborn on this point and so he
had hit on the idea of saying the Doc wanted him to slow down.
Actually, Doc's warning had been nowhere near as dire as he went around
telling everyone. His blood pressure was up a little ... he should eat
less, drink less whiskey, quit smoking. As far as retiring, John
Blodgett hadn't worked an honest day for years anyway, and why should
he? If a man had some brains and used them, others would do the work
and he could sit back and count the money. Take Ray Denham, now, he
would work hard, save all his money, and someday he might own a crummy
d**gstore! Well, if that was his version of the American Dream, let him
go after it.

He had been just as poor as Ray at the same age, and look at where he
was now. Of course, the Blodgetts hadn't been hillbilly farmers, they
were real old southern quality and that still counted for something in
Quiggville. If he hadn't come from a good family, Lauralee's
grandmother probably would have had their marriage annulled. She'd been
only sixteen while he was twenty-four.

That was the year after the war was over, and he'd just got out of the
army and had come home to Quiggville to draw his veteran's unemployment
benefits while he looked around for something to do. The Quigg twins,
Lee and Lauralee, had been c***dren when he went away ... now they were
seniors in high school and most of the town gossip revolved around the
twins. Parents dead and being raised by their grandmother, a fool if
there ever was one. Set out to make Lauralee a southern belle who would
have done credit to the Civil War days -- innocent, ladylike, sheltered
-- and naturally the girl had rebelled and turned out just the
opposite. Wild! Smoking at thirteen, using words nobody could figure
out where she'd learned, and from the age of about f******n on, putting
out to anything in pants. Lee, the boy, wasn't half as bad as his
sister but they were both hellions. They were both spoiled rotten and
when they turned sixteen that spring, Grandma had to rack her brains to
come up with presents they didn't already have. She bought Lee a
convertible and promised Lauralee a trip to Europe. But the girl didn't
want to go to Europe, especially since she had to wait until graduation
and then go along with Grandma. When her twin got a car, Lauralee was
furious. Somewhere she picked up the basics of driving and was soon
sneaking out in Lee's new car whenever she got the chance.

That Saturday night, John Blodgett had just come out of the theater and
was standing at the curb. Quiggville's only traffic light turned red
and he had started across the street when there was a squeal of brakes
and a yellow fender dipped to a stop only inches from him. He started
to swear, looked up, and the words died ...

"Hi, John," Lauralee said. "I'm sorry if I scared you," she giggled.
"It'd be awful to go through the war and then get killed right here on
the square, wouldn't it?" She was staring at him with undisguised
admiration ... he was wearing his tropical-weight uniform and the
pocket was crowded with his battle ribbons. The two of them were
suddenly a pair of a****ls, sniffing at the warm flower-perfumed night
air in search of excitement. "Can I give you a ride someplace?" her
little red lips parted expectantly.

He got into the car beside her, conscious even then that this might be
a momentous evening although he did not know that it was going to
change the whole course of his life.

Everything he had heard about Lauralee turned out to be true, and then
some. He couldn't believe she was only sixteen, no teenager could
possibly acquire the knowledge that was packed into her lithe, hundred-
pound body! They had gone directly to a roadhouse a few miles out of
town, where Lauralee insisted on having beer. Evidently she'd also had
something to drink before picking him up ... she was not drunk, but
pretty high. They sat side by side in a booth and suddenly he felt her
warm hand on his thigh, moving purposefully upward until it stopped in
the "vee" of his legs, cupping his balls. Jesus H. Christ! He nearly
choked on his beer as he felt her fingers working down there at his
loins ... did she know what she was doing to him? A glance at her face
with its wicked little cat-like smile told him that she did. She leaned
over and put her lips against his left ear. "Ooooh, Johnny, have you
got a big cock?"

He couldn't have answered her, his heart was beating clear up in his
throat like a hammer. So he put his hand down over hers and drew her
fingers upward. By God, his cock felt like it was bigger than it ever
had been or was ever going to be again ... it was throbbing like crazy
and ramming against his pants like it was trying to get free ... and
into her hot little pussy.

"Oh, Lord," she squealed as her hand closed over him, "it is big,
Johnny! Now, what are we going to do about that?"

"It's your fault," he told her, "I guess you better figure it out."

"You mean you don't kn-o-o-w?" she drawled in a teasing voice,
squeezing his penis and massaging it up and down until he thought he'd
go off right there and then.

"You little cock-tease!" he growled, shoving his hand between her legs.
Her thighs were smooth and warm and they clamped together over his
invading hand, then very gradually opened to allow him to push farther
up the forbidden split until his fingers encountered her panties.
Blodgett remembered feeling that maybe somebody ought to pinch him and
wake him up ... this had to be a dream, sitting here with the Lauralee
Quigg ... feeling each other up in full view of anyone who wanted to
look and be God-damned if he could tell which of the two of them was
the hottest. Lauralee's eyes had a glazed look and she was breathing
fast and jerky ... "Shall we get out of here?" he whispered.

"Yes!" she wiggled away from his obscenely probing fingers just as they
slid under the tight elastic legband of her pants. She stood up and he
had hastily thrown some money on the table and followed her. Lauralee
had insisted on driving, but instead of taking to the highway she
simply drove behind the roadhouse, right into a field. He thought the
car would hang up in the soft earth, but she spun it under a big tree
and right there is where they did it. He had wanted to put the top up
in the convertible but Lauralee was too eager to wait ... he smiled
faintly, recalling that zippers were new in those days and the pants of
his uniform had a button fly. Lauralee had the buttons undone in
seconds, and she took his aching cock out.

"Oh, Johnny!" her voice was awed, "it is big. Lord, I never saw one
like that ... you'll kill me with it!" and she had bent over him, her
long golden hair falling over his genitals, brushing against his
heavily loaded balls while she kissed the tip of his penis and then ran
her little pink tongue all around it like she was licking an ice cream
cone. Groaning with his desire to get into this incredible little
witch, he tore at her dress ... pulling it down to expose her youthful
breasts with their high, pointed contours and virginal tiny nipples.
Then he pushed her skirt up until her clothing was all bunched around
her waist and the lower half of her sensuous body was exposed too, the
brief panties starkly white against her slim tanned legs. Lauralee
released his swollen rod from her warm wet mouth and scuttled backward
on the car seat to a reclining position, her legs raised. Panting,
almost sobbing, she helped him pull the panties off.

"Christ, Lauralee, you're beautiful!" he exclaimed huskily as he stared
down hungrily at her nakedly exposed pussy. The pink cuntal slit
nestled, almost concealed, beneath her short curling golden pubic hair.
"Oh, hurry, hurry," she was begging him, "I'm so hot I can't stand it!"
and she took his lust-swollen cock in her hands and guided it toward
her tiny cunt-hole. She had whimpered when he burst through the tight
muscular ring, but had quickly become use to the bulk of him inside her
and he had been too aroused by her wanton eagerness to exercise any
caution or restraint. He had fucked Lauralee Quigg mercilessly, as if
she had been a common whore and, God, she had loved it. Sixteen years
old! He could have gone to jail for the things he did to her that night
in the car ... well, if it came to that he reckoned he could have gone
to jail for a lot of things he'd done in his life. John Blodgett
grinned humorously.

It had been very late when they had finally satiated each other and got
their clothes straightened. Again, she had wanted to drive and he
figured she was sober enough, although still a rotten driver. They were
coming into the outskirts of town, down in the colored section, when it
happened.

The streets were quite deserted, so that the last thing they expected
was a white figure looming up suddenly in the headlights. Lauralee had
jerked the wheel, but the right fender had hit the white object. The
impact was so slight ... yet it hurled the figure several yards ahead
and it crumpled against the curb. Lauralee kept on going, gripping the
steering wheel tightly.

"What was it?" she cried.

He had tried to get her to stop, to go back. "I think it was a woman
... a colored woman." She just kept on driving.

"S-she stepped out in the road! You saw her, Johnny! I-I haven't got a
driver's license."

Luckily for both of them, he had kept his head. He told her again to
stop and then he got behind the wheel. They did not go back to see
about the woman, instead he went to his home and put the car in his
vacant garage, his mother hadn't had an auto since the war. There was
only a small dent in the fender, but to be sure he got several buckets
of water and washed that side of the car very carefully. Then he drove
Lauralee home. When they turned in between the brick gateposts at the
entrance to the Quigg farm, John Blodgett deliberately sc****d the
right fender, crumpling it slightly and leaving yellow paint on the
bricks. He explained to Lauralee that this was necessary to explain the
damage, and that he would pay to have the car repaired.

It turned out that the victim was an aged colored woman with no
relatives, and so not too much fuss was ever made about finding the
hit-and-run driver. The state police did check on cars that