Chapter 18: Renewing Acquaintances

The minister droned on with his 'as it were's and the other catch phrases pastors use to pad their sermons. My eyelids were getting heavy and, to avoid embarrassing my sister or myself by falling asleep in church, I began, surreptitiously, to survey the congregation.

Could that be Barbara? God, she didn't look much older than twenty years ago when I'd seduced her. (OK, so it wasn't a seduction.) Not much taller than when she was twelve, either, as far as I could tell. She was wearing a white blouse and, from my viewing angle, it looked pretty full, as if those impressive, juvenile breasts had become two-liter milk jugs. I caught her looking at me, too, out of the corner of her eye but she quickly averted her glance when she saw that I was looking at her. And she blushed. What was she thinking, I wondered. Did she hate me for what I'd done? The few times I'd seen her, afterwards, she'd always looked down, either shy or afraid, or both.

I'd come home, which was what I still called the place where I grew up, for a brief visit with my sister and duty required that I go to church on Sunday morning. I'd spent the last two evenings getting updated on the people I'd known twenty years ago and the people I'd known, particularly the girls I'd known in the biblical sense.

Barbara and Verna were the only ones who still lived there and Barbara was married now, I'd found out, with two kids. Today, though, she was alone in church. She'd be over thirty now, I mused, but she sure didn't look it. Her creamy complexion, especially when she blushed, made her look like a teenager.

Twice more during the remainder of the service, I caught her sneaking glances my way and, each time, her cheeks reddened as she'd quickly looked away. I wondered even more what she was thinking.

"Hello, Joseph. I haven't seen you in a long time." I was surprised when Barbara spoke to me as we stood in line to shake hands with the minister although I noted that her eyes didn't meet mine.

"Hi, Barbara. Yes, it's been a few years alright." Damn. She's pretty. But she's definitely no taller now than she was twenty years ago. "Where's Walter?" I asked, inquiring about the whereabouts of her husband.

"Don't tell anyone but he's playing hooky. He took the boys fishing. He'll be home tonight if you want to come up for coffee." She spoke hesitantly, almost timidly, and I remembered how fearful and timorous she'd been that day when I'd assaulted her. Was she still like that? Was she a submissive wife?

"I'd like that, Barbara." Even though she still wouldn't look me in the eye, I could see that she was blushing furiously and I wondered, suspected, that she was remembering the last time we'd talked. Had she told her husband? Not likely, I thought. Especially since she's inviting me to meet him.

"That's good. He'd heard you were home and he was hoping he'd get to see you." She finally raised her eyes to mine for just a moment. They were big and blue and, before she looked away, an almost guilty expression showed. I was the one who ought to look guilty, I mused. Strange?

At dusk I walked up the hill to where Walter and Barbara lived in an old farmhouse. He was an electrician but, like many in the village, he did a bit of farming on the side. His pickup truck was parked on the grass beside the driveway, a hand painted sign on the door announcing the name of the small contractor he worked for. Except for a light in the kitchen, the house was in darkness and I went to the kitchen door and knocked.

"Uh... oh, I forgot I'd asked you to come," Barbara stammered when, after almost a minute, she opened the door. "Uh, Walter isn't back yet." She made no move to step aside so I could enter.

"That's too bad. I was hoping to see him," I lied. "Will he be very late?" Damn. She was still a nice looking piece. Maybe a bit fat for her height but the fat was in the right places. "Can I come in and wait?"

"Uh... well? I? He may not get home until very late? I don't know?"

"Well, you'll let me stop to warm up for a few minutes, anyway, won't you, Barbara," and without waiting to be invited in, I pushed by her into the kitchen. "It's chilly out there and I didn't think to put on a sweater."

She peered out at the road before shutting the door and, when I sat in the wooden rocker, she sat down, primly in a straight chair as far away from me as possible. Definitely she was acting afraid of me.

"Where do you live now, Joseph?" Her voice sounded strained.

"I'm out West." God! What tits! She was wearing a sweater that must have been three sizes too small for her. Was it intentional? Was she showing me how she'd grown? On her short frame, her breasts looked disproportionately large. "Have you ever been there?"

"Uh, no. Eddy lives there but Walter doesn't like to travel. You're married, aren't you, Joseph?" Her eyes darted about, never looking directly at me. She was like a timid, frightened rabbit. Surely she didn't think I'd do anything like I had, before. Especially not here in her own home with her husband due home.

"Too bad. You'd find it interesting. Very different from here." What would she say if I asked her how she'd felt after I fucked her? Not that I would ask, but I'd have still liked to see the expression on her face if I did. "Does Eddy still like baseball?"

"Uh, y.yes. I guess so." Her face turned scarlet and I was sure she knew I was reminding her of the baseball book that had figured in her defloration. Just then the telephone rang and she went to the wall phone to answer it.

"Everything's OK, Walter... Yes. I went to church this morning... No, I didn't tell anyone where you and the kids were, dear... No, your boss didn't call. I'll tell him tomorrow that you're in bed, sick, just like you'd asked me to. All right. I'll see you tomorrow night."

Barbara hung up the phone and sat down again. "That was Walter. He's decided to spend another day fishing so you'd better go, now."

"Oh, that's too bad," I replied. But it hadn't sounded like he'd just made that decision. In fact, I knew now, for sure, that she hadn't expected her husband home at all. And she hadn't mentioned my presence either? "I guess you wanted to talk about old times, just you and me. You knew Walter would be away so it would just be the two of us."

"Uh... but? Like? N.n.no. I? I? I forgot they weren't coming home tonight. Walter really wanted to see you." Stammering and squirming, she was trying to convince me that she hadn't set up this little one-on-one scenario. But I knew better, even if she'd changed her mind, now.

"C'mon, Barbara. Don't lie to me. I'm thrilled that you wanted to see me. Really thrilled."

"B.but... I didn't? Not... the neighbours will see you... me?" Except there really weren't any neighbours to know.

"Nobody saw me coming here, Barbara, so they won't know. Unless you tell them? I guess you got over being mad at me?"

"Uh, I don't know what you mean, Joseph. Why'd I be mad at you?" She sat tensely, looking down at the floor, clearly not wanting to talk about that day.

"You mean you've forgotten?"

"What? Uh, yes? Uh, no? Oh Joseph, you have to go. It was a mistake." Barbara's voice was tight. Was it fear? Or something else? They say that a woman always remembers, maybe loves the guy who devirginates her. Does that apply if it's done by force? I doubt it, but I was certain that Barbara had invited me because she wanted me to fuck her again.

"You were a pretty, little girl then," I said softly as I rose from the rocker and walked over to where she was sitting. "And now you are a beautiful, little woman." I took her hands from where they were clasped together on her knees and pulled her to her feet. She tried to resist but grudgingly she stood, her head barely reaching my chest.

"No... please Joseph... please leave." Barbara's voice was faint and, for just a moment, she looked up at me. God, she was pretty! And the timid look in her big, blue eyes added to her appeal. I looked to my right, down the short hallway that led to what looked like a sitting room. In the light from the kitchen, the only light that was on, I could see that there was a carpet on the floor. That would be better than the cold lino of the kitchen, I thought, as I dragged the weakly resisting woman down the hall.

"I remember, Barbara. I remember very well. You remember too, don't you? You liked it, didn't you! You were a hot little piece, even as young as you were.""