Green Berets for the Sexual RevolutionChapter 19
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Madeleine walked into the Best-Buy Supermarket, glanced up at the raised platform where the manager's office was situated, and caught a reassuring momentary glimpse of Hugh Fulcher. Grabbing a hand-held plastic basket, she moved slowly through the produce section, selecting an orange, an apple, and two bananas.
Although she picked up only a few items, she systematically traversed each long aisle of the store, stopping frequently to study labels, or to glance at her fellow customers. The shoppers were mostly women, although an occasional man could be seen. What men there were all seemed to Madeleine to match the description of their quarry. Most of them were middle-aged or older; most seemed reasonably vigorous and well-dressed.
She reminded herself that Twin Rivers was a relatively prosperous community, had more than its share of retirees, and that it was not unreasonable to find well-dressed older men in abundance in the town's most upscale supermarket. She supposed that Sam had chosen the Best-Buy as a principal target for that reason.
She had moved through most of the store's aisles when she saw a man who seemed perfect. He looked to be at least fifty, but he was slender and in obvious good physical condition, and he was eyeing her with undisguised interest from the far side of an open, low-slung frozen food bin.
Madeleine found herself wishing she'd worn an open-necked blouse; a deep bend from the waist into the frozen food bin would certainly have focused this fellow's interest in a hurry.
Then she remembered her abortive lunchtime visit to The State Diner. Leaning far into the bin, she spent a considerable time selecting and retrieving the most inaccessible of packages of frozen peas from the lower reaches of the bin. She felt the cold air surrounding her upper body and knew, without peeking, that her nipples were doing their thing. At last, she rose from the bin and deposited the frozen peas into her basket.
The effort had not been wasted; the man was lost in deep appreciation of the sudden prominence of her breasts. Pretending to give him no notice, Madeleine moved down the long aisle and, once again, reached into the bin for the least-accessible item she could locate. Across from her in the other aisle, the man paralleled her movements.
"We can't have located him this quickly," Madeleine thought. Nevertheless, she continued her slow promenade through the market. Her new friend followed at a respectable distance. On the final aisle, Madeleine, remembering her evening at Sam's and the refrigerator in her hotel room, selected a six-pack of Carta Blanca and added it to her meager selection of items. She walked briskly to the checkout clerk, noticing that her latest admirer was not far behind.
But despite her entry into an express line at checkout, it became evident that the man who had followed her was enjoying prompter service in another line. Before she reached the clerk, he had paid for his purchases and was leaving the store. She watched him unlock a minivan, start it up promptly, and drive away.
Just another semi-innocent citizen.
After leaving the market, and in accordance with Sam's schedule of activities (now committed to memory), Madeleine got into her car and drove the old U.S. highway to Roseton, 23 miles distant. On the way, Sam passed her and signalled the all-clear. Arriving in Roseton, she parked in the small lot next to a storefront restaurant, entered, and gratefully ordered coffee. It was a little after 5:30.
The tiny restaurant was doing a brisk supper business. In rural 'Carolina, at 5:30, it's time to eat.
Moments later, Sam walked in and, after greeting the proprietor behind his cash register, he joined Madeleine in her booth.
"Well, nobody's on your trail," he said, smiling.
"I had a nibble in the supermarket," Madeleine answered. "For a moment I thought we'd struck it rich already. The guy looked good for it, and he certainly showed some interest, and good following skills. But he checked out and drove away before I even got through my line."
"We already knew men were going to look at you, Mad. Jeez, the guy who runs that supermarket was drooling over just the prospect of your being in his store."
"Is that why you stationed Hugh Fulcher up in the manager's booth -- to hold the manager down?"
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