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Chapter 3
No one stirred in either the Leatherman or Dunston houses. Both couples slept until the sun was high up in the sky. It was the usual Sunday routine for Lucia and Dirk Leatherman. Both had dropped all pretenses of a religious belief while in college, many years past. Lucia considered herself an agnostic; Dirk never bothered to try and classify himself. On most Sundays Boyd and Faith got up in time to attend both Sunday school and church services. Not that they were devoutly religious. It was merely the easiest way to get along, since the church they normally attended was pastored by Faith's father. It was a small church, a fundamentalist sect, and Faith's father shouted his sermons from the pulpit in the best tradition of a vanishing style of hell-fire oratory that sometimes made the hair on the back of Boyd's neck stand up in fright.
That Sunday Boyd awoke slowly. He glanced sleepily over at the clock on the bedside table. He groaned aloud. Sunday school was over and the church service was more than ten minutes underway. There'd be hell to pay at supper. Though Faith's mother was a wonderful cook, no one would enjoy the meal. Her father would see to that, as he always did when they failed to show up for Sunday morning worship. A private sermon was in
order, and though he'd heard it enough times to memorize it word for word, it still left him feeling like the worst of sinners for not caring sufficiently for Faith to look after her soul by making sure that she was in a front pew when her father delivered his message of the week to the small flock. Reaching for a cigarette, Boyd wondered why they'd forgotten to set the alarm. He had the cigarette in his mouth and lit before he was awake
enough to remember anything of last night's activities. His hand trembling slightly, he shook out the match and sucked a deep pull of smoke down into his lungs. The dead match fell into the ash tray with a tiny tinkle. He exhaled with a sigh, turning to look at Faith.
A sleeping angel. That's what she reminded him of. Her appearance of this morning was no different than on any other morning. The features of her lovely face were calm and serene. A radiant innocence seemed to emanate from her. Could it have been a dream? Grotesque mental images of his pure wife lost in lustful abandon with Dirk Leatherman flitting careeningly across Boyd's mind. It had seemed so real, so painful. Had he only dreamt it? But wait--what about the shameful way he and Faith had ripped at each other after they got home? Boyd ran one hand under himself and felt his back. He winced in pain at the swollen welts left by Faith's long fingernails. The final climax of their private orgy had brought out a purely a****l part of his wife that Boyd had never before suspected. She'd clawed viciously at his back and yelled at the top of her lungs for him to come with her. After he had, they'd rolled apart and fell immediately into a deep sleep.
Sometime during the night Faith had managed to pull the cover up over her nude body. Boyd now eased it back gently. The sight of her full breasts rising and falling in the rhythm of sleep brought a stifled gasp. They were covered with bruises where his fingers had slapped so roughly. No. It was not a dream. Faith was no longer the innocent young bride. She was now an adulteress, having taken her lover right in front of her own husband's eyes. That was bad enough. The full knowledge of the situation made Boyd
cringe. Faith's whore like action was unthinkable, almost unbelievable. Recalling how his wife so passionately responded to Dirk made Boyd's cheeks flush in anger. But there was something else, something that was much worse, to Boyd's way of thinking. He'd felt it last night, while he sat watching Dirk insert his big cock into Faith. The sight had brought out two emotions from the very depths of his being. The two emotions had fought with each other, had held him seated and helpless as Dirk took his place between
Faith's opened legs.
The lewd mental picture of Dirk's big dick entering Faith's sweet pussy passed now before his eyes. It called forth the same two emotions, and once again he was trembling excitedly. Almost in one swift leap his prick jerked up stiff and throbbing. Boyd took it in his hand and squeezed. He closed his eyes. Once again Faith writhed ecstatically under Dirk. Her whimpering moans of fulfillment echoed inside Boyd's head. Hairy nuts jerked spasmodically above a dancing female asshole. A young pussy completely filled with huge, spurting cock could not contain the massive load of sperm being shot forcefully into its depths. Sperm, white and slick, oozed out around the tautly stretched cunt lips and trickled into a pool in Faith's anus. Boyd groaned as he felt a wave of pleasure pass through his loins. Gritting his teeth at the intense orgasm, he let the come
squirt from his tightly held organ and fall in warm, wet jets onto his naked stomach.
Shamefacedly, Boyd rose and went into the bathroom for his shower. Faith had not moved when he came out several minutes later. He stood over her, looking down into her sleeping face as he tied the sash of his robe. Wincing again at the bruises on her lovely breasts, Boyd pulled the covers back up to her shoulders. After kissing her tenderly on the forehead, Boyd went to get the paper from the yard.In the kitchen he put on the coffee, then sat down to read the paper while it perked. He intended to prepare breakfast and serve it to Faith in bed. It was the least he could do after mistreating her so last night. She was no more to blame for what had happened at the Leathermans' than he was. He resolved never to throw it up to her. He would not even mention it, he decided.
Faith awoke to find Boyd already out of bed. She looked at the clock and found that it was nearly noon. They'd missed both Sunday school and church. She groaned. Now she would experience the anger of two men, her husband's for what had happened the previous night and her father's for missing services.
Reluctant to get up and face the day ahead, Faith lay back in bed. She was trying to figure out what kind of defense would be best when Boyd confronted her, when she heard his footsteps coming toward the bedroom. As yet unprepared for the attack she knew was coming, Faith closed her eyes and feigned sleep. To her astonishment, the attack never came. Instead, Boyd bent lovingly over her and kissed her lightly on the nose, then tiptoed from the room without saying a word. "Boyd?" Her puzzled voice stopped him in the bedroom doorway. She studied his face. There was no anger or hatred in his expression. He was smiling embarrassedly at her, like a small boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Why didn't you wake me up, honey?"
"Ah, I forgot to set the alarm. When I woke up it was already too late for church." If he's not going to mention it, I'm certainly not, Faith decided. She forced a weak smile. "You must be starved. Want me to fix breakfast now?"
"No!" he said hurriedly. "No. You just stay right there. I've got coffee ready and bacon in the pan. I'll make breakfast and bring it in here to you. Want some coffee now?" Faith's eyes popped wide open. She couldn't believe her ears but dared not ask him to repeat it. She nodded her head and mumbled that that would be very nice, very thoughtful of him, then watched him smile broadly and hurry off to the kitchen. Breathing a sigh of relief, she lay back and pondered the craziness of the situation. She could hear him out on the kitchen, opening and closing the refrigerator, rattling a coffee cup.
A moment later he came walking carefully into the bedroom, a cup of steaming coffee clattering softly on the saucer in his hand. Smiling nervously, he approached the bed and cleared a place on the nightstand to put the coffee. He straightened and stood beside the bed, pushing her ruined dress under it with his foot. "Thank you, darling," Faith murmured as she sat up and reached for the coffee. She sipped at it, looking up into his eyes and trying to smile as if nothing was wrong. But her smile was weak, unconvincing. "Hope I didn't get too much cream in it for you," Boyd said.
"No." Faith returned quickly. "It's fine ... just the way I like it." She took another sip, as if to prove that it pleased her. When she looked back up, she saw Boyd staring at her breasts. She looked down at them and saw the bruises for the first time. Automatically she gasped and reached up to touch the livid splotches. A pained expression swept over Boyd's face. He took the cup from her hand and put it back on the nightstand, then knelt quickly beside the bed and began kissing the ugly streaks on her breasts. "I'm sorry I hurt you." Faith stroked her fingers through his hair, letting him go on with his soothing kisses until he began to sob. The sound of her husband crying confused her all the more. She took his head between her hands and pushed him away. Tears formed in her own eyes as she searched his pain-racked face. "It's all right, honey. I had it coming ... oh God, Boyd! We've got to talk about it, honey. Last night ... it was all so crazy and mixed up. I don't know what came over me ... or you. What happened to us, Boyd? Why did we act that way?"
"I don't want to talk about it, Faith. It's in the past. Ignore it. Forget the past."
"Oh, Boyd ... that won't help. We can't just ignore it. That won't make it go away, darling. I'm ashamed of how I acted. Let's talk about it honey. I need to. Maybe if we could talk it out and understand why we did it. Maybe that would help us get over it."
"Just forget it, darling. I forgive you for what happened at the Leathermans. Can you forgive me what happened after?"
"Oh yes, Boyd ... yes, darling. I forgive you," she moaned, hugging his face once again to her sore breasts. "I forgive you. It isn't that. It's myself. I feel so ashamed for what I did. So ashamed ... and I don't even understand why. I don't love Dirk. You're the only man I love. I don't understand what came over me. I can't forgive myself. I feel so
cheap ... so guilty. I betrayed you, Boyd." Boyd drew away from her and held her shoulders. "Look, Faith," he said softly. "It's best to just forget about it ... to go on living and act like it never happened. I don't want to think about it any more … okay?" Though reluctant to drop the matter without some answer which would partly assuage her guilty conscience, Faith nodded her head. "All right, Boyd. If that's the way you want it. Shall I fix breakfast now?" A certain smile of triumph and satisfaction always came over Boyd's face when he watched a customer sign a new sizable insurance policy. He could not explain his feelings at those times. It was a subconscious feeling, a knowledge that things were going the way he wanted them to, that he would benefit in the future as well as at the moment of the sale. He smiled that same smile now, at Faith.
Partly drawing Faith to him and partly bending toward her, he kissed her lips firmly but tenderly, as if sealing a bargain. "No, sweet baby. I'll fix breakfast for you. I want to. Now you just relax and drink your coffee. How many eggs do you want?"
"Just one," she said contentedly. "Over easy." Then she lay back and watched Boyd leave for the kitchen again. She sipped at the coffee. It was nice. Boyd was right to insist they forget about it. She felt an extra warmth in her breast at the sound of cracking egg shells, an almost overflowing of love for Boyd. But something puzzled her, didn't seem to fit. Boyd's smile? It was such a strange smile, such a knowing smile. He'd never smiled at her quite like that before, yet she had seen it. That first night she met him.
He'd smiled exactly that way when her father signed the papers of the insurance policy Boyd had come to sell him. Could that mean anything, she wondered? Reproaching herself for being so suspicious, for wanting to analyze everything until it made sense, she took another swallow of coffee. The coffee seemed to stick in her throat and form a lump. Some of the warm liquid went down her windpipe, causing her to cough and sputter. That it might be a bad omen flashed across her mind. She shook her head and
laughed. That's silly, she thought. But still it bothered her.
What had Lucia said about Boyd last night? She couldn't recall the older woman's words. The words were not so important anyway. It was the way Lucia'd said it. Faith had felt that Lucia was in reality telling her much more than her few words had conveyed. "Quit it, Faith!" she said aloud, to herself. "Cud chewing is for cows,
not people."
Monday morning. A beautiful day. The radio blared triumphantly in the laundry room. Faith hummed happily along with the voice coming from the radio. She pulled a load of freshly washed clothes from the washer. In time to the beat of the music, she dropped the still steaming clothes into a plastic basket. At last her probing hand found nothing. She
peered down into the washer and saw one of Boyd's socks sticking to the side. Pulling it loose, she stepped over to the last load of dirty clothes. She rolled the damp sock between her hands until it was a warm ball, then pitched it basketball fashion on top of the clean clothes in the basket. "You're the one I've been looking for," she accused, bending over to scoop up a double armload of the final pile of wash. She dropped the last load into the washer, retrieved the three pieces still on the floor, basketballed them into the washer also, and set the dials on the machine. She added detergent and stood watching until the machine seemed capable of finishing without her.
Hoisting and hipping the basket of wet clothes, Faith went out the back door and across the yard to the already partly full clothesline at the rear of their lot. Still singing gaily, she hung the clothes one piece at a time to dry under the hot Alabama sun. The world was a wonderful place to live. Faith felt it in every nerve of her being. Boyd had been so considerate of her, so loving and tender. Like a queen--that's how he'd made her feel. Breakfast in bed, then taking her part when Dad gave her a bad time at supper. And last
night--wow! The way Boyd had made love to her so passionately, so long and drawn out! On the couch in the den, ignoring his favorite TV programs and bringing her to orgasm after orgasm before he would allow himself any pleasure at all. Lazing about in love's afterglow, they had never felt closer.
It was the same this morning. She'd made breakfast and it was eaten at the table, but the closeness was still between them, the feeling of oneness, of fusion one with the other. It was like their honeymoon all over again, only better. The memory of Dirk and Saturday night was like a long-ago nightmare, pushed so far back in her mind that it had a feeling of unreality about it. It was as though it had never actually happened. Faith was hanging the last piece of wash when she felt eyes on her back. She put the last clothespin in place before turning toward the woman opening her gate. It was Lucia. A sense of apprehension flooded over Faith. She didn't want to see Lucia, wouldn't know what to say to her under the circumstances. For an uncomfortable moment she considered fleeing out the back gate and running down the alley.
Then it was too late. Lucia called a friendly hello and waved as she came toward her. Hesitantly Faith returned the smile. She picked up her empty basket and went toward the house. They met midway in the back yard. Embarrassedly, Faith invited Lucia in for coffee. Not a word about Saturday night. Lucia rattled on and on about one thing after another, never once mentioning the degrading scene that ended the patio barbecue. It was disarming to Faith. Lucia acted so natural, so friendly, as if nothing at all had happened.
When the coffee cups became empty, Lucia took them over to the pot and refilled them, chatting all the while about the week-long mission that Dirk and his flight crew had left on from the Air force base that morning. Lucia admitted that she envied Dirk and his career. It wasn't that she minded him being away from home when he had to fly. Not at all. She was jealous, she confided. Secretly she longed to be a pilot, a colonel like Dirk. He got all the fun--going to so many different places, ordering those men under him about, feeling the awesome power of those monstrous jet engines and knowing that he controlled such a force completely, had it right at his fingertips. An intense expression came over Lucia's face as she talked about the power of the big bomber that Dirk flew. She saw it as an extension of her husband himself, and readily admitted that she would gladly change places with him, if it were only possible.
The look in Lucia's eyes unnerved Faith. She awkwardly and abruptly switched the conversation to another subject, a more feminine topic. Occasionally she thought of bringing up Saturday night. She wanted to talk about it, yet she didn't want to. Things were going so smoothly. Lucia seemed not to remember it. Boyd had told her to forget it, and gave every indication that he had forgotten it himself. Yet it troubled Faith. Seeing Lucia had brought it back into her mind. After awhile Lucia stood up and announced that she had to go out to the commissary. She invited Faith along. After Lucia told her how much cheaper groceries and cigarettes were at the base, Faith gladly accepted. It was a chance to save money, and Faith prided herself on her thrifty nature. Had she known that it was i*****l for a civilian to shop at a military commissary, she would not have gone. In her naiveness, however, Faith quickly changed out of her housedress and wrote a quick
note for Boyd in case he should come home unexpectedly for lunch, then tucked her purse under her arm and went with Lucia.
The air policeman at the base gate snapped to attention when he saw Lucia's red Volkswagen coming at him. He motioned the car on through the gate without stopping them, then brought his hand up in a salute as they came nearer. As he recognized Lucia, he smiled broadly and winked, still holding the salute. Smiling back at the tall, handsome airman, Lucia threw him a kiss as the car swept past and into the base.
"They sure are friendly," commented Faith. "They aren't all that friendly," Lucia chuckled. "That one's a doll, though."
"He is good-looking. Is he a friend of yours and Dirks?"
"Just mine. Dirk doesn't know him."
"Oh."
"No, no, baby. Not like that. He teaches karate to a group of us wives one afternoon a week."
"Oh," Faith said again, relief telling in her voice this time.
Lucia drove slower now that they were on the base. Finally she pulled into a parking lot and nosed the bug into a slot. "Come on," she said, getting out of the car. As soon as they were inside the building, Faith knew it couldn't be the commissary. It was dark and music was playing on a jukebox. It was a cocktail lounge! "What's the matter, baby?"
"I shouldn't be here. Boyd wouldn't like it."
"You can have a soda if you'd rather, but I can't face the commissary without a good belt," Lucia chuckled. "Come on, now. Quit your worrying and let's sit down. All the girls stop here before fighting the mob." Though Faith did notice several tables with two or three women smoking and talking as they sipped at drinks, it looked as if Lucia somewhat exaggerated the point by saying that all did. Feeling slightly wicked, and as conspicuous as a sore thumb, she followed Lucia to a corner table and took a seat that permitted her a view of the room. The waiter came over and Lucia ordered a margarita. "What do you want, honey?"
"The same as you," Faith told her, surprised at her own words. She didn't even know what a margarita was. Her answer just popped out as if her tongue couldn't bother to wait until her mind decided. The drink was good. A little salty but very tasty. Halfway down the glass Faith watched Lucia fire up a smoke. She noticed a man sitting at
the bar, watching them. It made Faith uneasy. He was a Negro. She mentioned it to Lucia and pointed him out. To Faith's utter amazement Lucia smiled broadly and waved at the man, then motioned for him to join their table. "Thanks for telling me, honey. That's Buck. He's a pilot in Dirk's squadron." The Negro officer brought his drink and came to the table. He was so tall that Faith had to lean back her head to see his face as Lucia introduced them. God, he's handsome, she thought, nigger or not. He wore a thin, well-trimmed mustache and had the fullest, softest-looking lips she'd ever seen. She watched the lips pull into a smile, baring the whitest of white teeth.
"Hi," he said, extending his hand toward Faith.
No Please to meet you, Mrs. Dunston, or anything like that, just a grinning "Hi". Without realizing what she was doing, Faith grinned back and said, "Hi," putting her small white hand out and watching it disappear as brown skin engulfed and pumped it a couple of times. Then he was saying, "Glad to know you," and Faith had her hand back again. She watched in fascination as the brown face leaned over Lucia and kissed her a friendly peck on the mouth. There was a tingling in her lips to match the one in her hand as Faith watched the man sit down directly across the table from her. "What the hell are you doing here, Buck?" asked Lucia. "Aren't you supposed to be flying the mission with the rest of the boys?"
It was as if Lucia'd slapped him in the face. His brilliant smile vanished instantly. A beaten, hangdog expression replaced it. "Didn't Dirk tell you?" Sensing that something was drastically wrong, Lucia put her hand soothingly on top of his. "Tell me what, baby? Is anything wrong?"
"I've been permanently grounded," he said dumbly, as if he still could not believe it himself. "Oh no!" Lucia wailed. "That's terrible!"
"For me it is. A desk jockey at thirty-two. Shit! There ain't no justice," he snapped. Then he looked at Faith apologetically. "Pardon my French, please."
"It's all right, baby," Lucia soothed. "It's all right. Say it again if you want to. I know how you loved flying." He nodded.
"Can't you appeal it? I mean, are you sure it's permanent?" He shook his head. "Flight surgeon's orders," he explained. "Reflexes aren't fast enough any more." Lucia got to her feet and held out her hand, singing down at the saddened brown face. "Dance with me. That always livens you up, and usually puts a smile on your face." Buck forced a smile. He took her hand and got up, saying, "What about your husband, lady? Won't he be jealous?" Lucia winked at him and grinned, then put her arm around his waist and they went to the jukebox. They bugalooed the first dance. Watching Buck go through the motions expertly and with such ease made Faith wonder how his reflexes could possibly be any better than they were. He really knew how to dance! The next song was slower, and Lucia glided in close to Buck. She put her head on his shoulder and her arms about his body as if they were the only two people in the place. She brought her mouth up to his ear and whispered.
Faith wondered what was said. Buck glanced over her way and whispered back to Lucia, then they came walking hand in hand back to the table. "Up, girl," Lucia ordered. "Do your patriotic duty and dance with the major."
Getting to her feet, Faith wondered if she ought to dance with him. She wanted to. Boyd was such a terrible dancer, and she did love it so. Then he was smiling, taking her hand and leading her away from the table. The next thing she knew she was in his arms and they were moving about the floor. There was something about Buck, something that made her Alabama mind forget that he was black and she was white. It felt so natural to be dancing with him. He was a good dancer, very smooth. His hand caressed the small of her back, drawing her body closer to his. Her breasts came in contact with his chest. Allowing them to flatten against him, she put her head on his shoulder and watched the
brown skin of his neck and his ear. Both his hands were on her now, below the small of her back, resting on the upper slopes of her buttocks.
A wave of dizziness swept over Faith. The drink? She giggled and let Buck pull her belly up tight against his. Then she felt it. There was nothing wrong with his reflexes in the sex department! He was getting a hard-on! She could feel it growing bigger and harder against her soft stomach. She fought back a whimper. She wanted to pull away from contact with him but could not force herself to do it! Mercifully the music stopped and he stepped away from her, quickly taking her hand and leading her back to the table. He thanked her, told Lucia he had to go, picked up his hat, and left.
No one stirred in either the Leatherman or Dunston houses. Both couples slept until the sun was high up in the sky. It was the usual Sunday routine for Lucia and Dirk Leatherman. Both had dropped all pretenses of a religious belief while in college, many years past. Lucia considered herself an agnostic; Dirk never bothered to try and classify himself. On most Sundays Boyd and Faith got up in time to attend both Sunday school and church services. Not that they were devoutly religious. It was merely the easiest way to get along, since the church they normally attended was pastored by Faith's father. It was a small church, a fundamentalist sect, and Faith's father shouted his sermons from the pulpit in the best tradition of a vanishing style of hell-fire oratory that sometimes made the hair on the back of Boyd's neck stand up in fright.
That Sunday Boyd awoke slowly. He glanced sleepily over at the clock on the bedside table. He groaned aloud. Sunday school was over and the church service was more than ten minutes underway. There'd be hell to pay at supper. Though Faith's mother was a wonderful cook, no one would enjoy the meal. Her father would see to that, as he always did when they failed to show up for Sunday morning worship. A private sermon was in
order, and though he'd heard it enough times to memorize it word for word, it still left him feeling like the worst of sinners for not caring sufficiently for Faith to look after her soul by making sure that she was in a front pew when her father delivered his message of the week to the small flock. Reaching for a cigarette, Boyd wondered why they'd forgotten to set the alarm. He had the cigarette in his mouth and lit before he was awake
enough to remember anything of last night's activities. His hand trembling slightly, he shook out the match and sucked a deep pull of smoke down into his lungs. The dead match fell into the ash tray with a tiny tinkle. He exhaled with a sigh, turning to look at Faith.
A sleeping angel. That's what she reminded him of. Her appearance of this morning was no different than on any other morning. The features of her lovely face were calm and serene. A radiant innocence seemed to emanate from her. Could it have been a dream? Grotesque mental images of his pure wife lost in lustful abandon with Dirk Leatherman flitting careeningly across Boyd's mind. It had seemed so real, so painful. Had he only dreamt it? But wait--what about the shameful way he and Faith had ripped at each other after they got home? Boyd ran one hand under himself and felt his back. He winced in pain at the swollen welts left by Faith's long fingernails. The final climax of their private orgy had brought out a purely a****l part of his wife that Boyd had never before suspected. She'd clawed viciously at his back and yelled at the top of her lungs for him to come with her. After he had, they'd rolled apart and fell immediately into a deep sleep.
Sometime during the night Faith had managed to pull the cover up over her nude body. Boyd now eased it back gently. The sight of her full breasts rising and falling in the rhythm of sleep brought a stifled gasp. They were covered with bruises where his fingers had slapped so roughly. No. It was not a dream. Faith was no longer the innocent young bride. She was now an adulteress, having taken her lover right in front of her own husband's eyes. That was bad enough. The full knowledge of the situation made Boyd
cringe. Faith's whore like action was unthinkable, almost unbelievable. Recalling how his wife so passionately responded to Dirk made Boyd's cheeks flush in anger. But there was something else, something that was much worse, to Boyd's way of thinking. He'd felt it last night, while he sat watching Dirk insert his big cock into Faith. The sight had brought out two emotions from the very depths of his being. The two emotions had fought with each other, had held him seated and helpless as Dirk took his place between
Faith's opened legs.
The lewd mental picture of Dirk's big dick entering Faith's sweet pussy passed now before his eyes. It called forth the same two emotions, and once again he was trembling excitedly. Almost in one swift leap his prick jerked up stiff and throbbing. Boyd took it in his hand and squeezed. He closed his eyes. Once again Faith writhed ecstatically under Dirk. Her whimpering moans of fulfillment echoed inside Boyd's head. Hairy nuts jerked spasmodically above a dancing female asshole. A young pussy completely filled with huge, spurting cock could not contain the massive load of sperm being shot forcefully into its depths. Sperm, white and slick, oozed out around the tautly stretched cunt lips and trickled into a pool in Faith's anus. Boyd groaned as he felt a wave of pleasure pass through his loins. Gritting his teeth at the intense orgasm, he let the come
squirt from his tightly held organ and fall in warm, wet jets onto his naked stomach.
Shamefacedly, Boyd rose and went into the bathroom for his shower. Faith had not moved when he came out several minutes later. He stood over her, looking down into her sleeping face as he tied the sash of his robe. Wincing again at the bruises on her lovely breasts, Boyd pulled the covers back up to her shoulders. After kissing her tenderly on the forehead, Boyd went to get the paper from the yard.In the kitchen he put on the coffee, then sat down to read the paper while it perked. He intended to prepare breakfast and serve it to Faith in bed. It was the least he could do after mistreating her so last night. She was no more to blame for what had happened at the Leathermans' than he was. He resolved never to throw it up to her. He would not even mention it, he decided.
Faith awoke to find Boyd already out of bed. She looked at the clock and found that it was nearly noon. They'd missed both Sunday school and church. She groaned. Now she would experience the anger of two men, her husband's for what had happened the previous night and her father's for missing services.
Reluctant to get up and face the day ahead, Faith lay back in bed. She was trying to figure out what kind of defense would be best when Boyd confronted her, when she heard his footsteps coming toward the bedroom. As yet unprepared for the attack she knew was coming, Faith closed her eyes and feigned sleep. To her astonishment, the attack never came. Instead, Boyd bent lovingly over her and kissed her lightly on the nose, then tiptoed from the room without saying a word. "Boyd?" Her puzzled voice stopped him in the bedroom doorway. She studied his face. There was no anger or hatred in his expression. He was smiling embarrassedly at her, like a small boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Why didn't you wake me up, honey?"
"Ah, I forgot to set the alarm. When I woke up it was already too late for church." If he's not going to mention it, I'm certainly not, Faith decided. She forced a weak smile. "You must be starved. Want me to fix breakfast now?"
"No!" he said hurriedly. "No. You just stay right there. I've got coffee ready and bacon in the pan. I'll make breakfast and bring it in here to you. Want some coffee now?" Faith's eyes popped wide open. She couldn't believe her ears but dared not ask him to repeat it. She nodded her head and mumbled that that would be very nice, very thoughtful of him, then watched him smile broadly and hurry off to the kitchen. Breathing a sigh of relief, she lay back and pondered the craziness of the situation. She could hear him out on the kitchen, opening and closing the refrigerator, rattling a coffee cup.
A moment later he came walking carefully into the bedroom, a cup of steaming coffee clattering softly on the saucer in his hand. Smiling nervously, he approached the bed and cleared a place on the nightstand to put the coffee. He straightened and stood beside the bed, pushing her ruined dress under it with his foot. "Thank you, darling," Faith murmured as she sat up and reached for the coffee. She sipped at it, looking up into his eyes and trying to smile as if nothing was wrong. But her smile was weak, unconvincing. "Hope I didn't get too much cream in it for you," Boyd said.
"No." Faith returned quickly. "It's fine ... just the way I like it." She took another sip, as if to prove that it pleased her. When she looked back up, she saw Boyd staring at her breasts. She looked down at them and saw the bruises for the first time. Automatically she gasped and reached up to touch the livid splotches. A pained expression swept over Boyd's face. He took the cup from her hand and put it back on the nightstand, then knelt quickly beside the bed and began kissing the ugly streaks on her breasts. "I'm sorry I hurt you." Faith stroked her fingers through his hair, letting him go on with his soothing kisses until he began to sob. The sound of her husband crying confused her all the more. She took his head between her hands and pushed him away. Tears formed in her own eyes as she searched his pain-racked face. "It's all right, honey. I had it coming ... oh God, Boyd! We've got to talk about it, honey. Last night ... it was all so crazy and mixed up. I don't know what came over me ... or you. What happened to us, Boyd? Why did we act that way?"
"I don't want to talk about it, Faith. It's in the past. Ignore it. Forget the past."
"Oh, Boyd ... that won't help. We can't just ignore it. That won't make it go away, darling. I'm ashamed of how I acted. Let's talk about it honey. I need to. Maybe if we could talk it out and understand why we did it. Maybe that would help us get over it."
"Just forget it, darling. I forgive you for what happened at the Leathermans. Can you forgive me what happened after?"
"Oh yes, Boyd ... yes, darling. I forgive you," she moaned, hugging his face once again to her sore breasts. "I forgive you. It isn't that. It's myself. I feel so ashamed for what I did. So ashamed ... and I don't even understand why. I don't love Dirk. You're the only man I love. I don't understand what came over me. I can't forgive myself. I feel so
cheap ... so guilty. I betrayed you, Boyd." Boyd drew away from her and held her shoulders. "Look, Faith," he said softly. "It's best to just forget about it ... to go on living and act like it never happened. I don't want to think about it any more … okay?" Though reluctant to drop the matter without some answer which would partly assuage her guilty conscience, Faith nodded her head. "All right, Boyd. If that's the way you want it. Shall I fix breakfast now?" A certain smile of triumph and satisfaction always came over Boyd's face when he watched a customer sign a new sizable insurance policy. He could not explain his feelings at those times. It was a subconscious feeling, a knowledge that things were going the way he wanted them to, that he would benefit in the future as well as at the moment of the sale. He smiled that same smile now, at Faith.
Partly drawing Faith to him and partly bending toward her, he kissed her lips firmly but tenderly, as if sealing a bargain. "No, sweet baby. I'll fix breakfast for you. I want to. Now you just relax and drink your coffee. How many eggs do you want?"
"Just one," she said contentedly. "Over easy." Then she lay back and watched Boyd leave for the kitchen again. She sipped at the coffee. It was nice. Boyd was right to insist they forget about it. She felt an extra warmth in her breast at the sound of cracking egg shells, an almost overflowing of love for Boyd. But something puzzled her, didn't seem to fit. Boyd's smile? It was such a strange smile, such a knowing smile. He'd never smiled at her quite like that before, yet she had seen it. That first night she met him.
He'd smiled exactly that way when her father signed the papers of the insurance policy Boyd had come to sell him. Could that mean anything, she wondered? Reproaching herself for being so suspicious, for wanting to analyze everything until it made sense, she took another swallow of coffee. The coffee seemed to stick in her throat and form a lump. Some of the warm liquid went down her windpipe, causing her to cough and sputter. That it might be a bad omen flashed across her mind. She shook her head and
laughed. That's silly, she thought. But still it bothered her.
What had Lucia said about Boyd last night? She couldn't recall the older woman's words. The words were not so important anyway. It was the way Lucia'd said it. Faith had felt that Lucia was in reality telling her much more than her few words had conveyed. "Quit it, Faith!" she said aloud, to herself. "Cud chewing is for cows,
not people."
Monday morning. A beautiful day. The radio blared triumphantly in the laundry room. Faith hummed happily along with the voice coming from the radio. She pulled a load of freshly washed clothes from the washer. In time to the beat of the music, she dropped the still steaming clothes into a plastic basket. At last her probing hand found nothing. She
peered down into the washer and saw one of Boyd's socks sticking to the side. Pulling it loose, she stepped over to the last load of dirty clothes. She rolled the damp sock between her hands until it was a warm ball, then pitched it basketball fashion on top of the clean clothes in the basket. "You're the one I've been looking for," she accused, bending over to scoop up a double armload of the final pile of wash. She dropped the last load into the washer, retrieved the three pieces still on the floor, basketballed them into the washer also, and set the dials on the machine. She added detergent and stood watching until the machine seemed capable of finishing without her.
Hoisting and hipping the basket of wet clothes, Faith went out the back door and across the yard to the already partly full clothesline at the rear of their lot. Still singing gaily, she hung the clothes one piece at a time to dry under the hot Alabama sun. The world was a wonderful place to live. Faith felt it in every nerve of her being. Boyd had been so considerate of her, so loving and tender. Like a queen--that's how he'd made her feel. Breakfast in bed, then taking her part when Dad gave her a bad time at supper. And last
night--wow! The way Boyd had made love to her so passionately, so long and drawn out! On the couch in the den, ignoring his favorite TV programs and bringing her to orgasm after orgasm before he would allow himself any pleasure at all. Lazing about in love's afterglow, they had never felt closer.
It was the same this morning. She'd made breakfast and it was eaten at the table, but the closeness was still between them, the feeling of oneness, of fusion one with the other. It was like their honeymoon all over again, only better. The memory of Dirk and Saturday night was like a long-ago nightmare, pushed so far back in her mind that it had a feeling of unreality about it. It was as though it had never actually happened. Faith was hanging the last piece of wash when she felt eyes on her back. She put the last clothespin in place before turning toward the woman opening her gate. It was Lucia. A sense of apprehension flooded over Faith. She didn't want to see Lucia, wouldn't know what to say to her under the circumstances. For an uncomfortable moment she considered fleeing out the back gate and running down the alley.
Then it was too late. Lucia called a friendly hello and waved as she came toward her. Hesitantly Faith returned the smile. She picked up her empty basket and went toward the house. They met midway in the back yard. Embarrassedly, Faith invited Lucia in for coffee. Not a word about Saturday night. Lucia rattled on and on about one thing after another, never once mentioning the degrading scene that ended the patio barbecue. It was disarming to Faith. Lucia acted so natural, so friendly, as if nothing at all had happened.
When the coffee cups became empty, Lucia took them over to the pot and refilled them, chatting all the while about the week-long mission that Dirk and his flight crew had left on from the Air force base that morning. Lucia admitted that she envied Dirk and his career. It wasn't that she minded him being away from home when he had to fly. Not at all. She was jealous, she confided. Secretly she longed to be a pilot, a colonel like Dirk. He got all the fun--going to so many different places, ordering those men under him about, feeling the awesome power of those monstrous jet engines and knowing that he controlled such a force completely, had it right at his fingertips. An intense expression came over Lucia's face as she talked about the power of the big bomber that Dirk flew. She saw it as an extension of her husband himself, and readily admitted that she would gladly change places with him, if it were only possible.
The look in Lucia's eyes unnerved Faith. She awkwardly and abruptly switched the conversation to another subject, a more feminine topic. Occasionally she thought of bringing up Saturday night. She wanted to talk about it, yet she didn't want to. Things were going so smoothly. Lucia seemed not to remember it. Boyd had told her to forget it, and gave every indication that he had forgotten it himself. Yet it troubled Faith. Seeing Lucia had brought it back into her mind. After awhile Lucia stood up and announced that she had to go out to the commissary. She invited Faith along. After Lucia told her how much cheaper groceries and cigarettes were at the base, Faith gladly accepted. It was a chance to save money, and Faith prided herself on her thrifty nature. Had she known that it was i*****l for a civilian to shop at a military commissary, she would not have gone. In her naiveness, however, Faith quickly changed out of her housedress and wrote a quick
note for Boyd in case he should come home unexpectedly for lunch, then tucked her purse under her arm and went with Lucia.
The air policeman at the base gate snapped to attention when he saw Lucia's red Volkswagen coming at him. He motioned the car on through the gate without stopping them, then brought his hand up in a salute as they came nearer. As he recognized Lucia, he smiled broadly and winked, still holding the salute. Smiling back at the tall, handsome airman, Lucia threw him a kiss as the car swept past and into the base.
"They sure are friendly," commented Faith. "They aren't all that friendly," Lucia chuckled. "That one's a doll, though."
"He is good-looking. Is he a friend of yours and Dirks?"
"Just mine. Dirk doesn't know him."
"Oh."
"No, no, baby. Not like that. He teaches karate to a group of us wives one afternoon a week."
"Oh," Faith said again, relief telling in her voice this time.
Lucia drove slower now that they were on the base. Finally she pulled into a parking lot and nosed the bug into a slot. "Come on," she said, getting out of the car. As soon as they were inside the building, Faith knew it couldn't be the commissary. It was dark and music was playing on a jukebox. It was a cocktail lounge! "What's the matter, baby?"
"I shouldn't be here. Boyd wouldn't like it."
"You can have a soda if you'd rather, but I can't face the commissary without a good belt," Lucia chuckled. "Come on, now. Quit your worrying and let's sit down. All the girls stop here before fighting the mob." Though Faith did notice several tables with two or three women smoking and talking as they sipped at drinks, it looked as if Lucia somewhat exaggerated the point by saying that all did. Feeling slightly wicked, and as conspicuous as a sore thumb, she followed Lucia to a corner table and took a seat that permitted her a view of the room. The waiter came over and Lucia ordered a margarita. "What do you want, honey?"
"The same as you," Faith told her, surprised at her own words. She didn't even know what a margarita was. Her answer just popped out as if her tongue couldn't bother to wait until her mind decided. The drink was good. A little salty but very tasty. Halfway down the glass Faith watched Lucia fire up a smoke. She noticed a man sitting at
the bar, watching them. It made Faith uneasy. He was a Negro. She mentioned it to Lucia and pointed him out. To Faith's utter amazement Lucia smiled broadly and waved at the man, then motioned for him to join their table. "Thanks for telling me, honey. That's Buck. He's a pilot in Dirk's squadron." The Negro officer brought his drink and came to the table. He was so tall that Faith had to lean back her head to see his face as Lucia introduced them. God, he's handsome, she thought, nigger or not. He wore a thin, well-trimmed mustache and had the fullest, softest-looking lips she'd ever seen. She watched the lips pull into a smile, baring the whitest of white teeth.
"Hi," he said, extending his hand toward Faith.
No Please to meet you, Mrs. Dunston, or anything like that, just a grinning "Hi". Without realizing what she was doing, Faith grinned back and said, "Hi," putting her small white hand out and watching it disappear as brown skin engulfed and pumped it a couple of times. Then he was saying, "Glad to know you," and Faith had her hand back again. She watched in fascination as the brown face leaned over Lucia and kissed her a friendly peck on the mouth. There was a tingling in her lips to match the one in her hand as Faith watched the man sit down directly across the table from her. "What the hell are you doing here, Buck?" asked Lucia. "Aren't you supposed to be flying the mission with the rest of the boys?"
It was as if Lucia'd slapped him in the face. His brilliant smile vanished instantly. A beaten, hangdog expression replaced it. "Didn't Dirk tell you?" Sensing that something was drastically wrong, Lucia put her hand soothingly on top of his. "Tell me what, baby? Is anything wrong?"
"I've been permanently grounded," he said dumbly, as if he still could not believe it himself. "Oh no!" Lucia wailed. "That's terrible!"
"For me it is. A desk jockey at thirty-two. Shit! There ain't no justice," he snapped. Then he looked at Faith apologetically. "Pardon my French, please."
"It's all right, baby," Lucia soothed. "It's all right. Say it again if you want to. I know how you loved flying." He nodded.
"Can't you appeal it? I mean, are you sure it's permanent?" He shook his head. "Flight surgeon's orders," he explained. "Reflexes aren't fast enough any more." Lucia got to her feet and held out her hand, singing down at the saddened brown face. "Dance with me. That always livens you up, and usually puts a smile on your face." Buck forced a smile. He took her hand and got up, saying, "What about your husband, lady? Won't he be jealous?" Lucia winked at him and grinned, then put her arm around his waist and they went to the jukebox. They bugalooed the first dance. Watching Buck go through the motions expertly and with such ease made Faith wonder how his reflexes could possibly be any better than they were. He really knew how to dance! The next song was slower, and Lucia glided in close to Buck. She put her head on his shoulder and her arms about his body as if they were the only two people in the place. She brought her mouth up to his ear and whispered.
Faith wondered what was said. Buck glanced over her way and whispered back to Lucia, then they came walking hand in hand back to the table. "Up, girl," Lucia ordered. "Do your patriotic duty and dance with the major."
Getting to her feet, Faith wondered if she ought to dance with him. She wanted to. Boyd was such a terrible dancer, and she did love it so. Then he was smiling, taking her hand and leading her away from the table. The next thing she knew she was in his arms and they were moving about the floor. There was something about Buck, something that made her Alabama mind forget that he was black and she was white. It felt so natural to be dancing with him. He was a good dancer, very smooth. His hand caressed the small of her back, drawing her body closer to his. Her breasts came in contact with his chest. Allowing them to flatten against him, she put her head on his shoulder and watched the
brown skin of his neck and his ear. Both his hands were on her now, below the small of her back, resting on the upper slopes of her buttocks.
A wave of dizziness swept over Faith. The drink? She giggled and let Buck pull her belly up tight against his. Then she felt it. There was nothing wrong with his reflexes in the sex department! He was getting a hard-on! She could feel it growing bigger and harder against her soft stomach. She fought back a whimper. She wanted to pull away from contact with him but could not force herself to do it! Mercifully the music stopped and he stepped away from her, quickly taking her hand and leading her back to the table. He thanked her, told Lucia he had to go, picked up his hat, and left.
Uma
- 07.07.2020
- 22
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