Chapter 22

Marsha's life became one of extremes. On the one hand her relationship with Chris blossomed. Even though she knew it could not last forever the two had grown close, closer than she had ever been with Randy. They shared not only a bed but a life together. Their laughter often filled the small trailer and each cherished the other's company whenever they went out. Marsha had come to adore his warm smile, his quick laughter and his thoughtfulness, something she certainly could never have attributed to Randy.

Of course they were discrete in public, but, even so, there were moments alone for stolen kisses and caresses. And at home the sexual marathon continued unabated. Marsha, even though she now knew where he had learned them, continued to marvel at Chris' knowledge and skills in the bedroom. These, combined with his intense romantic feelings for her, satisfied her in every way possible. She had decided never to mention Trent or what she had learned about Chris' "lessons." Revealing such information could only hurt Chris and perhaps even damage their relationship. When he was at school and/or she at work, she missed him terribly and rejoiced, as did he, when they were together again.

On the other hand there was Trent. Over the next few weeks he had called perhaps half a dozen times (he apparently had other women on the hook as well). Marsha had had difficulty at times balancing her time with Chris, her work at the book store and Trent's demands. Once she had taken a sick day at work and another she had had to lie to Chris (something which pained her greatly) so as to meet Trent at a cheap motel where he partook of his "mother-whore" as he had begun calling her. He was always drunk or tipsy and seemed to delight in degrading and hurting her both with words and by inflicting physical pain during intercourse. He would leave her naked, exhausted and emotionally and physically anguished. He would laugh at her and at the situation she found herself in. Then sometimes he would spit or urinate on her to totally debase her before leaving.

They both knew he could have used his experience and knowledge to make the experience less painful, even pleasurable for her, but he wasn't about to do that. In his drunken condition he was, in his mind, extracting revenge for her rejecting him that day at the trailer and proving his superiority over her both intellectually and physically.

Marsha would cry, sometimes for hours, after one of her obligatory sexual trysts. Only Chris, his presence and love, was enough to pull her from those depths of depression.

And so her life continued to be a series of highs and lows until the day Trent called and told her to meet him at a local motel. Chris was in school and it was her day off at the book store so Marsha, already depressed at the prospects of more sexual abuse at Trent's hands, dressed in the mini skirt outfit Trent liked and insisted she wear and drove across town.

When he didn't show, she waited for almost two hours, not wishing to anger him if he showed up late. At last however, she decided he simply wasn't coming and returned home expecting an irate phone call berating her for not waiting for him long enough. Yet there was nothing. A day went by, then two and she began to wonder what might have happened.

On the third day, she was catching the eleven o'clock news when there was a reference to a terrible automobile accident three days earlier on Route 31. She knew that was the highway Trent used to make the drive from Masonville but didn't make the connection until the announcer showed the wreckage. The old Pontiac was barely recognizable as mangled and burned out as it was, but...

" ... The driver, Trent Kahn, who was critically injured in the one car accident on Tuesday, died today at Mt. Simon Hospital. Police indicated that alcohol was involved and that Mr. Kahn had three previous DUI convictions."

Marsha's heart sank for a brief moment. Even after all he had done to her, his death came as a shock. She had never wanted him dead, only out of her life. Now he was gone.

Her grief, although genuine, was tempered by the fact that her torment was at an end. He had taunted her that he kept not only the photos, but the negatives as well in his car. When it burned, they had all gone up in smoke.

The funeral was two days later. For obvious reasons Marsha did not attend. Chris heard about the accident and Trent's death and talked with Marsha about it that night as they lay in bed in each others arms.

"Since Trent is dead, I think there's something you should know."

"Oh," she replied playing dumb.

"Yeah. I actually met Trent a few months ago. He taught me a lot of the things you say you like so well -- in bed I mean."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he said he was sorry he couldn't help you when you and Dad were having problems before I was born and that he wanted to help by teaching me how to satisfy you. But he said it was to be our secret."

"I see," mused Marsha, understanding now why Trent had shared his sexual secrets with Chris. When he had raped her and she had rejected him he had obviously decided on revenge. Encouraging Chris as well as educating him in the ways of the flesh, Trent had led the boy down the path to eventual incest and the photographs and blackmail. The only thing he hadn't planned on was drunkenly swerving off the road into a tree.

"Well, he certainly taught you well. That much we can thank him for."

She rolled onto her back and spread her legs. Chris was instantly atop her.

"And he certainly had an apt pupil," she smiled, then grunted in pleasure as Chris entered her for the first of several sexual forays that night.

Over the following months, Marsha and Chris became lovers in the true sense of the word. Their sexual liaisons continued to be sure, but each, by now, had fallen deeply in love with the other.

"Marry me!" asked Chris one night. He had asked her out to a small restaurant and requested a secluded booth in the back of the dining area. He held out a small ring box and opened it. The diamond was tiny as his salary and expenses would dictate but for Marsha it was the most beautiful ring she had ever seen.

"Chris, Honey, I love you so much, but we can't marry each other."

"Why not?"

"Well, for one thing I'm a lot older than you."

"So? I've heard of marriages where one is older than the other. What is it they're called? May-December marriages?"

"But, Honey, by the time you're in your prime of life, I'll be old and gray."

"Not true. You're twenty-one years older than me. When I'm twenty-five, you'll just be forty-six."

"Sounds ancient, doesn't it?"

"No, it doesn't. Look, I dated some girls before we discovered each other. They can't hold a candle to you."

"You flatter me, Chris, but..."

"Mom, you make love like none of them could, and you're a lot more fun to be with."

"Let's put the age issue aside for the moment. How are you going to get through college? And with a wife attached? A wife old enough to be your mother?"

"Very funny. I know It's not going to be easy. But my grades are good. I might get a scholarship. There are student loans."

"All of which will help you through school. What about that old wife of yours?"

"We can move to Wilton. I can go to community college for the first couple of years. Then..."

"Chris, I want you to get the best possible education. We discussed you going to the university. Besides, a major part of the college experience is social activities. You can't be dragging a wife to frat parties. As a matter of fact I doubt seriously that frats even allow married members."

"Who cares about some old fraternity. I want to be with you. I want to come home to you every evening, just like I do now."

"But, what minister or judge would marry us?"

"Okay, maybe we'd have to go to another state. We could have some fake I.D.s made."