Chapter 8

The scene is upper New York state. A small sleepy town of quiet respectability. Outside of town, there is a small junior college. The time is autumn--Indian summer--and the trees have burst in a riot of color. Russets, reds, flaming oranges, and sun- bright yellows decorate the campus as leaves fall and whirl in the wind. There is the nipping hint of a cold winter to come in the air. Buzz Bierbeck, the football coach waits on the commons for his friend, Hank Morrison, history teacher, to join him. They will wend their way off campus to a local bar where they will have a drink and conversation before going home to their wives.

Buzz sees Hank approaching, walking in his slouching way with his ever-present pipe dangling from his teeth. He looks beyond Hank, past his shoulder, as he sees Gail Hanover, Mrs. Rod Hanover, come out of the administration building and walk to the parking lot. Buzz ran his fingers through his crewcut and nodded in her direction as Hank sauntered up. "Damn, don't know what it is, but I'd sure like to make it with that bitch." Hank turned to appreciate Gail with sleepy eyes. As they watched, one of the students called, "Mrs. Hanover!" and ran to catch up with her.

"That?" Hank asked as they watched Gail and the boy talking together. "Better forget about that. She's a real straight arrow. The word is out: she won't stand for any pass."

"Look at that figure," Buzz enthused. "Damn, why does she dress like an old maid?"

"Like I said, she's pretty square and very much in love with a husband in Vietnam."

"Yeah. Too bad. There's just something about her, some kind of look on her face."

Hank laughed and slapped his friend on the back. "Forget it. Listen, of all the broads in this town, that is the least likely. No hank-panky for Mrs. Gail Hanover, believe me."

Gail's conversation with the young boy couldn't be heard. All the two instructors could see were their lips moving and their mouths smiling. An agreement was made and they said goodbye and Gail went smiling to her car.

It might be hard to recognize her from the girl in San Diego of a few months before. She wore her hair in a tight severe bun. Horn rimmed glasses perched on her nose. She wore little or no makeup and her dresses were long and she generally wore tweed suits that helped to hide her voluptuous form. At the school, working in administration, she was known as cool and efficient, all business. The boys at the school seemed to like her and she seemed interested in their problems and could be seen talking with them on breaks and at lunchtime.

Tonight, she was driving home with a smile on her face. She rented a little house near the campus. She liked it because it was warm, friendly, and excluded from neighbors.

At home, she read the day's mail. A curt letter from Rod in Vietnam, saying the war was dragging on. A letter from Lee and Kim out in California, saying they were going to visit her next summer. She put the letters away and began preparing for the evening. Daylight saving made the dark come early and she smiled at the prospect.

Nightfall found her standing by the window, looking out, a drink and cigarette in her hand. It was a different girl from the one seen earlier on the campus. Her hair was let down to fall in wild billows. Makeup accentuated the sensuous features of her face. She was wearing high heels and black open-net stockings held in place by a garter belt. A silk kimono slipped from one shoulder as she jiggled the ice in her drink and sipped as she looked down at the snowy mounds of her breasts naked under the kimono. The lights were low, music was playing on the tape recorder and soon, soon, the young boys would be coming. Coming from the college, ostensibly on their way into town to see a movie. She closed her eyes and smiled. Young boys with strong slim naked bodies and erect cocks, young boys so cruel and demanding in their youth, young boys who would fuck her like a street whore and make her do obscene things. Young men who seemed inexhaustible and insatiable. She grinned, drained her drink and brushed her hair from her eyes as she walked to the bar to pour another stiff drink.

She needed to be fortified for the coming evening. It promised to be a long one. How many were there coming, she wondered. Six. Six young horny men alone with her. With a throaty hard laugh, she said aloud, "Looks like I made it to that camper after all."