Chapter 5

The shadows of dusk fell across the warm, ocean-side community, and though there was enough light to see outside with, the sun just setting with streamers of orange and red, Marleen turned on the lamps of the shop.

It had been a slow day, allowing her to contemplate life and her small segment of it, and worse, she'd allowed herself a few "medicinal" sips of brandy over the hours, and she stood teetering behind the counter, having just thrown the once-new, now-empty fifth of brandy into the garbage can. She knew that she'd drunk too much, and her head was spinning dizzily, but somehow that soothed the aching in her heart, deadening some of the creeping foreboding which stilled her heart with cold, skeletonous fingers.

Wendy was out with that David Preston.

She had been since early morning, Marleen sensed; there hadn't been any note, but her daughter hadn't come home yet, and neither had the new tenant or his dog. They had all been missing along with her boat right from the time she'd gotten up... so they had to be together. Doing what? Was darling Wendy safe with that man? Would he attack her, him and his brutal, savage, animalistic ways of sordid love-making, and would Wendy return with her mind warped and her body filthy by the corruption Preston would force upon her? The idea, the potential terror of such a happenstance made her almost want to vomit.

She'd thought crazily about phoning the police as the hours wore on, but that seemed a foolish thing to do. For one thing, she had no idea that Wendy was in danger; it was still daylight, and Wendy had always been able to handle herself before, and since it was her boat that was gone, it was obvious that her daughter had gone along willingly--perhaps even invited David along for a ride. If she should call the police and have them pick Wendy and Preston up, and it was all innocent, she'd never live it down, and Wendy'd never think that she was trusted anymore. And Preston-- well, his being friendly to the girl might lead him into a mistaken charge of molestation, the police aggravated by a hysterical mother... No, she couldn't call the police.

Besides, as sure as she was that Wendy was out with Preston and King, she had no proof. She could be jumping to conclusions, and Wendy was somewhere else, with somebody else. Like Clyde Brooks for instance. Yes... yes, there was a good chance that she was with Clyde! She'd call the Brooks home right now; why hadn't she thought of that before? Quickly she stepped over to the counter with the cash register and small desk with its phone. She looked up the number--not being as familiar with the Brooks family as her daughter was and dialed. The phone rang and rang...

Hurry up, please... Her agitation was more emotional than rational, and even as she stood there, receiver pressed to her ear, she couldn't understand her driving sense of urgency. Hurry.

"Hello?"

"I'd like to speak to Clyde Brooks, please."

"Speaking. Who's this?"

"Marleen Franklin. Wendy's mother."

"Wen--! Listen, Mrs. Franklin, I can explain about last night. You see--"

"Last night? I don't know what you're talking about. Is Wendy over there with you?"

Clyde sighed with audible relief. So the little bitch hadn't squealed on him, had she. But now he didn't understand; he sat down in the chair beside the phone, ham sandwich in one hand and the receiver in the other, a frown creasing his forehead. "No, no Wendy isn't here. We... had a fight last night."

"Oh God." Marleen's voice was a dull, hollow mournful tone.

"What is it, Mrs. Franklin? What's the matter? Has Wendy disappeared?" He knew he'd been rough on the girl, more out of anger and frustration than anything. In fact, Clyde had been sitting around, wrestling with the idea of apologizing to Wendy. Now her mother was calling, obviously worried to a fearful pitch. "Listen, Mrs. Franklin," he repeated, catching the fever of hysteria. "Listen, is she gone?"

"Yes. I don't know where, only that the boat is gone and my new tenant and his dog are gone as well. I'm afraid that she'd go out with him, and--"

"Stay right where you are, Mrs. Franklin," the boy said sternly. "Stay there, and I'll be right over and we'll go looking for them."

"But--

"In my father's cruiser. Stay there, all right?"

"Yes... Yes..."

Clyde hung up and dashed out of the house, not bothering to change from his bathing suit in his haste. God damn that Wendy, going off with some other guy... he'd teach her, he'd fix her wagon good when he found her...

Marleen placed the phone down and took a deep, shuddering breath. Well, she was doing something at last, even if it was only with her daughter's boyfriend. She staggered a bit, clutching the glass top of the counter, and thought to herself that if she was going to go out on the search with Clyde Brooks, she'd better start locking the store up for the night. Why not? Business wasn't going to pick up at this late hour, and she didn't want to wait on any more customers anyway. She was far too worried...

David Preston would have laughed with delight at the turn of events, and as sure as Heaven above, Satan below was having his devil's chortle. The plans which were churning that very moment in Preston's lewd brain weren't half as diabolical as the coincidence which fate had in store for the Franklin daughter and mother...

Twenty minutes later, Marleen and the boy were dashing across the tide waters of Reedsport Bay, searching all the nooks and crannies of the shoreline for signs of the Franklin boat. Clyde handled the craft expertly over the water, and the sun glistened in its last setting rays as if it had been wounded and was bleeding over the ice-blue frostiness of wet skin. But the mother wasn't enjoying the view, not in her agitated condition.

"She must be here someplace, Clyde," she kept moaning. "She has to be... She wouldn't take the boat out past the breakwater. She knows better than that, especially with the tide changing."

"Sure she does, Mrs. Franklin," the boy replied, and looked at her as she sat huddled against the bulkhead, staring through the glass without really seeing anything. He couldn't keep his eyes off her, off the rise and fall of her large, taut breasts and the smooth curve of her thigh through the short summer shift she wore. It was like looking at a reproduction of Wendy, he thought; not exactly twins, but the mannerisms, the way they act and talk and feel... Christ! He'd never really noticed the resemblance before, considering Mrs. Franklin just another mother to cope with and be around as little as possible while taking her daughter out, but she was quite a woman in her own right, and if this is how Wendy was going to look in twenty years, wow!

"Mrs. Franklin," he said, "you're all wound up, like a watch spring. It isn't going to do any good, the way you are."

Her head swiveled around and she managed to smile wanly at the boy. "I'm afraid I've already had a little too much brandy trying to calm down."

"Well, there's a little pint of brandy in the shelf beside you, some very fine French cognac my dad keeps for chilly nights."

"No, no thank you."

"Well, I could use some," he said with a shiver. "I'm cold inside, if not outwardly."

Without thinking about his age or the consequences, Marleen rummaged around in the shelf and produced a flat pint bottle of cognac, with only a couple of sips taken from it. She unscrewed the top and handed it to the boy, who took a large swallow of the dark amber liquor, and then he handed it back to her. "Go on, Mrs. Franklin. You're pale as a new sheet."

She raised the bottle to her lips, suddenly in need of the strong alcohol in her blood, and gave a shudder as the smooth brandy coursed down her throat. She smiled at Clyde then, feeling herself blush with the pervading warmth of the liquor as it rushed from her stomach to her skin.

"Better?"

"Yes, thank you," she said, and took another large sip.

Clyde laughed and had some more himself. He was a nice boy, Marleen thought; considerate and polite, and terribly handsome, with broad shoulders and boyish curls and strong legs bulging with the muscles from his athletics. No wonder Wendy was attracted to him, and in a strange, slight way she felt a little envious of her daughter for being so young and just starting out on her road of sexual relationships. Sexual was a strong word; she blinked at the audacity of her thought, and quickly corrected it in her mind to mean not necessarily the physical mating, but the whole involvement of two people. Yes, like she and Howie had had, and which now seemed to be denied her, her life as a woman dead...

And reflexively she raised the bottle to her mouth again and drank deeply, coughing slightly as the hot liquid fired her belly. She was beginning to feel numb again, and wondered if she shouldn't stop drinking, because she wanted a clear head when she finally found her daughter and/or David Preston. Or did she? Did she really want to be perfectly aware of what was going on, what veneer she was going to have to paint on herself in order to act the proper mother toward Wendy--when after last night she knew that she wasn't that kind of person underneath? No, no she wanted to be a little high so that the play-acting could be easier, and so that she wouldn't have to think about her own guilt so much...

Once more she tilted the cognac bottle, and it felt good and warm and comforting inside her, and she began to feel better, much better, able to handle the situation, whatever it might be...

They passed the old landing site for the Prohibition rum- runners, and then the sprawling Garbonzo estate, now mostly in advanced decay, and turned into a small inlet which Clyde knew to be a popular area for moonlight "parking," full of flat little beaches and overhanging trees, with the tall, statuesque pines and covering shrub climbing on steep hills on both sides, adding to the privacy. He slowed, idling the engine because the water was shallow and his father's cruiser had a larger draft than most of the other craft that used this inlet, and he didn't want to chance shearing a cotter pin or breaking a prop. To Marleen, the inlet was strange and the darkening shadows of the trees over the lapping water filled her with portent; she shivered, drinking the brandy in a vain attempt to ward off the icy grip on her heart...

Suddenly, Clyde said: "Look! There, Mrs. Franklin!"

Marleen strained forward, trying to clear her somewhat blurred vision; yes, there was the boat, and she could see the large German Shepherd, King, and the indistinct outlines of two people on the beach. She couldn't quite make out what they were doing, however, and asked the boy beside her: "Dear God, what are they up to?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "We'll have to go and find out."

"I-I'm afraid," she said, drawing back.

"I thought that's what we came out to do!"

"Yes, it is, Clyde, but..." She couldn't tell him the truth that she was mortally afraid of what she would discover, of the scene she would be forced to witness and react to, with the certain knowledge of the horrid consequences. The bodies she was peering at seemed to be together, so joined, as if... as if... God, she couldn't even let herself think of what it reminded her of! "I've never spied on Wendy before, Clyde," she said for lack of anything better. "I wouldn't want her to believe I don't trust her any longer."

"We have to do something," the boy said impatiently. "You'll feel better if you knew what she was doing, and so would I. But if you don't want me to drive the cruiser up on them, then we'll stop over there--" he pointed to a similar cove a hundred yards from the beach on which Wendy and Preston lay, and almost directly across from him, "--and wade ashore and walk around so that we can see them without them seeing us. Then we'll know what to do, and they'll never have to realize they've been watched if we decide to go."

"All-all right, Clyde. I guess that's the best."

He moved as close to shore as he could and killed the engine. He slipped into the water, and then helped Marleen over the side and into the warm, salty current. She had her shoes off and held her dress high, the water lapping around her lower thighs; Clyde could see the outline of her sheer pink panties, the elastic at the bottom as it hugged her slim, well proportioned legs, and he couldn't help thinking that her legs were every bit as good as her daughter's, and when a wave bit her high, drenching her from the waist downwards, the dress clung to her firm buttocks and he recalled the way Wendy had looked last night... there was a surge of tingling in his loins, and unwontedly, his cock began to swell in his trunks, adding a bulge of noticeable size. God damn! He was actually getting excited by this woman... what a hell of a thing to happen!

They reached the shore, the dress was lowered, and she put her shoes back on her slim feet, but her body was still a graceful attraction, distracting the boy more and more in sheer lascivious fascination. He wrenched his thoughts back to what he had to do now, and led the frightened mother to a small path at the back of the clearing, which he knew from experience meandered behind all of the little coves in a connecting foot trail. They stepped silently along the needled ground, and had gone about seventy yards when the path dipped on a slant towards the clearing where Wendy was. King, sensing the approach of strangers, sat up and barked.

Marleen stiffened. "The dog! Do you think that now they'll know we're here?"

Clyde placed his hand gently on her arm. "Shhh. Let's wait a minute and see. I don't think so, though..."

King barked again, and then there was a gruff command which Marleen immediately knew came from her tenant.

"King! Goddamn it, stop making all that noise..."

The dog ignored the order, for it began to bark even louder.

The mother and the boy stood in the underbrush, their breaths caught in their throats, his hand now tighter on her arm, and she in turn was responding by leaning somewhat toward Clyde for protection.

"King!" Preston snapped, and then strangely he laughed. "Stop it, King, stop licking my ass! Go on, go over there and lie down. Easy there, big fellow."

Stop licking my ass! His words were like shrapnel to the mother, exploding in her head with shattering impact. And then, adding insult to injury, making Marleen stagger backwards and almost fall down, she heard her daughter's higher voice, thick and distorted, squeal out with intensity she'd never heard before.

"Ohhhh, to hell with that dog, David. More, more, more!"

"Wendy!" Marleen gasped. She bolted for the clearing, and only the hand on her arm restrained her.

"No, Mrs. Franklin, no!" Clyde hissed. "Let's be careful. That's still the best way."

"Yes, but hurry," she moaned. She allowed him to guide her to a small spot which because of the low overhanging tree boughs, she was forced to kneel on the thick grass and part a bush in front of her in order to see. Clyde was right behind her, hunkering down so that he could see into the clearing as well...

There was King, again lying off to one side, eyeing them because he naturally knew that they were there, but following his master's orders not to interfere again... Marleen's vision moved from the dog to the sand and water and... My God! to the nakedly writhing couple on the sand, her only daughter and that stranger!

"Ahhhhh, fuck me, David, fuck me as hard as you can!" she heard her Wendy cry out in rapture.

"You little hot vixen, you'll kill me at this rate!" she heard David Preston rasp cynically. His sinuous body glistened with perspiration, and was on top of Wendy's beautiful, naked young body, wrapped between her slender, straining legs, while his powerfully flexed buttocks pumped maddeningly and his lips nibbled hotly at one tender breast. There was the soft slap of their bodies meeting and the wet surge of Preston's giant penis as, hard and shining, it penetrated the soft, once virginal little cunt. Their expressions on both their faces were of pure lust, their bodies a blending tempo of passion...

Wendy's mother's mind whirled convulsively, unable because of the brandy to fully fathom the scene. Her daughter... but it couldn't be, because Wendy was a virgin! No, no it's some other girl...

"Jeee-zus!" Clyde whispered behind her. "Look at Wendy go!"

Marleen wriggled with shock and revulsion, trying to crawl backwards and away, to go out and stop them, but the boy held her steady.

"Let me go!" she hissed. "Let me go! That's my daughter!"