Chapter 4

Sally Denham stood at her living room window, peeking through the slit of the heavy drapes to watch John Blodgett and his dog emerge from her doorway below and cross the square. It seemed to her that they had been in her apartment a long time, although it was still only mid-afternoon, and she wondered if anyone had noticed their entrance or exit and been curious about it? But she could not waste time worrying about that, she had to get herself cleaned up. Still naked, she moved about the living room, fluffing up the couch cushions and removing all traces of her visitors except for the tell-tale dog hairs. Those she would do later with the vacuum cleaner.

She soaked her tired body in a hot tub for much longer than usual, pouring quantities of fragrant bath salts into the water to dispel every last trace and odor that might be clinging to her. Experimentally, she handled her large breasts, running her fingertips over the bruised sore spots and gently examining the nipples, all with a new awareness of her body as an instrument of erotic sensitivity. As she stepped into the bedroom she paused in front of the full-length mirror to survey her nubile form critically... seeing Sally Denham for the first time not as a 'nice girl' but a provocative, desirable woman. Humming, to herself, she dressed rapidly in a fresh cotton frock and returned to the living room, scene of the debauched episode that was already beginning to seem more and more unreal. She flung the drapes apart and let the late afternoon sun stream into the room as she brought out her little vacuum cleaner and removed Duke's long black-and-tan hairs from the tufts of the rug. There was a dark wet upon on the rug directly in front of the couch and her cheeks flamed hotly as she realized what must be its origin. God, Ray would be back soon and she hadn't even planned what she would fix for dinner.

After the meal, they were watching television and Sally mentioned casually that she could have gone with Ray, after all, as Cynthia Hearldson had changed her piano lesson to Tuesday.

"Oh, yeah?" he said absently, "well, it was hotter than hell in Knoxville. Seems like this weather ought to break pretty soon. Say, honey, what's this spot on the rug here?"

"Oh! I-I fixed myself a drink this afternoon and spilled some of it," she explained.

"Drinking alone, and in the afternoon?" he teased, but frowned slightly.

"Only a cola, silly."

Speaking of drinks, Ray thought, he had had a tiring day and wouldn't mind one right now. Sally was curled up so comfortably on the couch that instead of asking her he went to the kitchen himself. It seemed to him that the level of the bourbon bottle was down somewhat from what it had been the other day... but no doubt he was mistaken... of course, if Sally wanted a drink now and then there was no reason why she shouldn't take one, yet it was not characteristic of his wife to drink or to fib. Since he knew that Sally did not really care for hard liquor, the thought crossed Ray's mind as he brought out the ice cubes that maybe someone else had been here. No, he dismissed the idea... she would have mentioned any callers.

Nevertheless, his wife surprised him by reaching eagerly for his glass when he carried it in and she proceeded to swallow a hefty slug of it. "Just what I needed to pick me up," Sally confessed, "I-I'm not feeling so well this evening."

"Have a hard day, darling?" he questioned indulgently.

"Not really. I just feel sort of... strung out."

"Probably worrying about the loan. It's making us both tense... I wish to hell we'd hear something pretty soon."

"Oh, Ray," his wife got up from her sitting position and moved over next to him on the couch, placing her cheek against the flat hardness of his chest, "I'm sure we will hear something soon, and that it will be favorable. I... I just feel it!"

The close intimate presence of his wife against his body could not fail to stimulate Ray sexually and his hand came down to stroke her soft brown hair and slip under the neckline of her dress. Immediately a tremendous wave of guilt at her deception swept over Sally and her whole body seemed to freeze and grow rigid with fear. Ray must never, never find out what she had done! The knowledge would destroy him and her along with him... shivering slightly, she allowed him to work his warm fingers under her bra strap, to push it down over her shoulder so that he could dip his hand, unhindered, into the thin nylon cup of her brassiere and fasten his palm over her full vibrant breast. Cold terror gripped her. If they made love tonight she was sure somehow that Ray would know it was not her first time today. She still felt so stretched and sore down there... and she still carried within her secret parts the sticky semen of Ray's boss and of... oh, God... of the big German Shepherd. Tears welled up in her long-lashed gray eyes as she realized fully to what depths of depravity she had sunk... but for good cause, for her husband's sake.

"I'm sorry, darling," she whispered as Ray's fingers fastened over her sensitive, abused nipple, "I-I just don't feel up to... to romance this evening. I really would love it, if I just felt better."

Her husband sighed and gradually withdrew his hand from her dress, leaving her breast tingling with the excitement his palpating fingers had aroused. Oh, she did want to... she really truly wanted Ray to make love to her... to fuck as she had been fucked today... but she didn't dare let him. Not now.

Sally was so confident Ray would hear from the bank the very next day that she kept half-listening for the sound of his feet pounding up the stairs to tell her they had got the loan. Then, her sacrifice would all be worth while, she would know she'd done the right thing, the only thing, under the circumstances. But the day passed like any other, and so did the next and the next until she was fuming with suppressed anger at Blodgett's delay.

On Friday morning she did her marketing and stopped in the drugstore to pick up some household items. Ray was busy behind the prescription counter, so she merely waved at him to let him know she was there and spent a few minutes chatting with Miss Minnie, of whom both she and Ray were quite fond. Miss Minnie had given the couple many valuable tips about the best places to obtain various items in Quiggville, a good doctor and dentist and so forth.

"I believe I'll have a sundae," Sally said, sitting down at the fountain and arranging her parcels on the stool beside her. The girl loaded the concoction with extra hot fudge and whipped cream and she thought ruefully of the calories as she dipped her spoon into the luscious combination. "Won't you join me, Miss Minnie?"

"Just a black coffee for me," the clerk said, "I don't never eat any of that sweet stuff. Where would I be now if I'd of been eating them sundaes for thirty-three years?"

Sally paused, spoon raised. "How long did you say?"

"Thirty-three years. I been working right here in this store since I was fifteen years old, Miz Denham. 'Course I don't expect to be here much longer... it looks like my career is comin' to an end, don't it?"

"Why do you say that?" Sally questioned, frowning.

"Well, who knows, when the new owners takes over?" the older woman shrugged philosophically but her down-to-earth voice quavered slightly as she spoke of the impending change. "They was in here yesterday," she leaned forward confidentially, "poking into everything and writing it all down... asking a lot of stupid questions."

"Men from the drugstore chain were here yesterday? Why, that's funny, Ray never mentioned it..." Sally broke off in mid- sentence.

"I reckon not. Probably didn't want to upset you, but he was lookin' awful gloomy. It's a crying shame the way John Blodgett has done you two, but at least you can be thankful you ain't put thirty-three years into this place like I have."

"Miss Minnie, the sale of the store isn't final," the young wife assured her, "and I have good reason to think that Ray will be the new owner after all. We expect to have some good news very soon, so keep your fingers crossed!"

"I hope you're right, Miz Denham," the spinster muttered doubtfully, "but you don't know this town like I do. When Mr. Blodgett makes his mind up to do something, he sees it through."

Miss Minnie got up to wait on a customer who had just entered and Sally finished her sundae in a thoughtful mood. Well, she could see a thing through herself, if it came to that! Easing herself from the stool, she smoothed out her skirt which was clinging to her perspiration-damp thighs and gathered up her purchases. Once again she stopped briefly to see her husband and Ray looked up from his drug preparations to smile at her.

"I won't be up for lunch, honey, I'll just grab a sandwich here. Really got a lot of work this morning... must be a lot of sick people in Quiggville."

"OK--just don't forget your lunch altogether," she admonished. "I declare, Ray Denham," she put on a fake southern accent she sometimes used jestingly and which he enjoyed, "you are just gettin' positively skinny." She wouldn't let him know how worried she was about Miss Minnie's information and the fact that he hadn't told her about the visitors in the store.

Upstairs, she dropped her bundles in a heap on the kitchen table and went immediately to the wall telephone, picking up the thin Quiggville directory. Blodgett's office did not answer and she next dialed his residence. A servant answered and at her request called John Blodgett to the phone.

"This is Sally Denham," she announced. "Why haven't I heard from you?"

"I can't talk now, you should know better than to call here," he growled and promptly hung up on her. Sally stared at the dead receiver, a growing premonition seizing her that things were not going as she had expected. Very well, she would give him until Monday... no longer.

At the other end of the line, Blodgett was also uneasy. Her boldness in contacting him at home surprised him... she had more spirit than most of her sex and it was that very thing about her that had made it so pleasurable to seduce her. He did not anticipate real trouble... but you never knew when one of the bitches would turn on you. "Eula!" he called sharply.

The maid appeared soundlessly behind him. She was a strikingly beautiful young black woman... skin that seemed to change from coffee to bronze and flowing blue-black hair that was now forced back into a confining hair net. The white nylon uniform that Lauralee Blodgett required the girl to wear molded itself to every hollow and curve of a figure that was unbelievably full-breasted above a minuscule waist and flaring, generous hips. If Eula had had the opportunity to get away from Quiggville and go north, there was no doubt in Blodgett's mind she could have gone on the stage. Instead, she had married her local sweetheart at an early age and now worked for a low wage in the Blodgett household.

"Eula, if anybody calls here for me, I want you to be sure to ask who it is--and if it's Miz Denham, you tell her I'm not home. You got that?"

"Yes, sir," she said quietly, but there was a quick flare of interest in her downcast eyes that her employer did not see.

"Where's Miz Blodgett?" he questioned.

"Oh, she left for town a half-hour ago... thought you knew."

"No, I didn't," there was an instant relaxation of his big body, a subtle yet distinct alteration in the master-servant relationship between the two. "Come here, Eula," he said in a softer tone and the woman obediently moved toward him to receive his embrace. He kissed her full on the lips, forcing his tongue inside the warm wet cavern of her mouth and sliding it back and forth in a lewd semblance of oral copulation while his fingers rapidly undid the buttons of her uniform and went familiarly to her straining breasts that were too large for even his big hands to encompass. Below his belt he felt his cock jerk and swell to instant hardness as he began to breathe in short, heavy rasps.

"Come on, girl," he muttered, "let's go in the bedroom... I got some business with you 'fore she gets back." Smiling loosely down at her, he took Eula's hand and guided it to his stomach, forcing her to grasp his throbbing penis. Her dark eyes widened, though she knew well from experience the inhuman dimensions of his instrument, and an involuntary little shiver rippled over her body. Such was Blodgett's dominance over her that she could look forward eagerly to the things he would do to her on the big king- size bed while never letting up for one second in her steady hatred of the system which allowed her to become a mere chattel and plaything of her corrupt employer so that he enjoyed her body equally as often as her own husband. Eula liked to think that every time Blodgett fucked her, she drained him of a little bit more of his life fluid, his lewd sperm that he filled her belly with... although he certainly seemed to have an endless supply of it... but never mind, one of these days her time was coming! She still had a simple faith that justice would be done.

They entered the exquisitely decorated master bedroom and Eula automatically finished stripping, laying her clothes out neatly over a chair. He sat on the edge of the bed waiting for her, eyes sliding lasciviously over her dark perfection that was always so excitingly forbidden to him that he had to have it again and again. "I want you to suck me off, Eula," he instructed her exactly as one might tell the maid how to go about polishing the silver, "yes, sir, that's what I crave today."

Eula dropped to her knees in front of him and settled back on her haunches as she reached out to take the blood-filled, lust- thickened penis and guide it toward her lips that were already forming a soft oval to receive the hard bulbous head. As her pink tongue flicked out, the woman found that a totally irrelevant thought was running around in her head. I wonder, she puzzled, what this business is with Miz Denham?

John Blodgett was annoyed and snappish on Monday morning. He was first angry with his wife, Lauralee. They had gone to an intimate dinner party on Saturday evening and she had proceeded to get drunk, which in itself was no surprise except that this time she had exceeded her own limits... continued to drink all day Sunday and was right now at home, sick as a dog, with Eula in constant attendance. It was messy and he didn't like it, particularly at this period when they were starting a new life, as it were, in Florida. A drunken wife was not a social asset and Blodgett was a man who relied heavily on social contacts to set up his various deals and schemes. He had perceived that the Florida resort community would be filled with wealthy retirees and vacationers... just the sort of people whom a little old country boy could help to separate from some of their money.

Secondly, he was angry because Sally Denham had telephoned again, in fact had called several times... and he was going to have to take some positive action on that situation, collect his bet from Lee and dump the Denhams, both husband and wife. He knew by now that they were types who would only cause him trouble of they remained in Quiggville.

The bet was only going to bring him ten dollars, but he never liked to lose a wager and besides, the satisfaction of showing Lee Quigg that the snotty piano teacher had ended up like any whore-- flat on her back with her legs spread--that was worth a hell of a lot more than ten bucks. In fact, musing on Sally's downfall which he had single-handedly brought about did quite a bit to improve his irate disposition as he drove to town. He was smiling as he entered the bank and strode into his brother-in-law's paneled office.

Lee Quigg leaned back in his swivel armchair and surveyed Blodgett's faintly dissipated countenance. "Say, John--Mrs. Denham's been trying to get in touch with you. She's called here twice this morning already."

"Hell," Blodgett growled with a knowing grin, "don't you think I know she's trying to get in touch with me? Reckon she wants some more of that good cock I gave her the other day," he winked obscenely at the younger, weaker man.

"That's not what she said," Lee observed mildly.

"OK--what'd the bitch want?" Blodgett walked to the well- appointed bar and poured himself a generous slug of raw Jack Daniels whiskey.

"She wants to know about the loan. Just what did you promise that girl, anyway, John?"

"Christ, what does it matter?" the big man tilted his head back and let the fiery liquid run down his throat to warm his vitals. "Promise 'em anything give 'em cock. Lay your ten dollars down, Lee, I aim to collect that bet today," he winked again. "She leave her number?"

Lee pushed a slip of paper toward him and he picked up the phone and dialed. "Sally? This is John speaking. Yes, I'm over here at the bank right now and Lee, Mr. Quigg, would like to have a little talk with you. No, we don't need Ray at this point--you just slip over here and come right back to Mr. Quigg's office. We'll be expecting you. No, there are some, uh, points that we want to go over first. All right?" Securing her acceptance, he replaced the receiver and then drew a ten-dollar bill from his wallet and laid it on the gleaming mahogany surface of the desk.

"Hmmmmm, I think your original words were, 'five'll get you ten'?" Lee Quigg pointed out, hesitating as he pulled his own wallet from his back pocket.

"Why be cheap about it?" John Blodgett shrugged, "isn't it worth ten bucks to get into something like Sally Denham? How long has it been since you screwed anybody 'sides Liz?"

Quigg grimaced at the mention of his puritanical wife and laid his own crisp green bill on top of the other. By God, it made his pecker jump just thinking about Sally's cute little ass swaying the way it had on the dance floor at the country club the other night. She couldn't get here quick enough to suit him...

Nevertheless, it was to be several minutes before Sally was ready to leave her place. She'd been doing the laundry and of course was not properly dressed as the wife of a young businessman, calling on the president of the bank. It had required time to change clothing and to freshen herself up a bit. She checked her watch nervously... ten o' clock. It was not likely that Ray would come up before noon and she could say she'd been shopping, if he missed her. God, if only this wasn't such a small town!

There were long lines at the teller's windows in the bank and no one seemed to notice Sally as she made her way to the rear of the main room until one of the secretaries pointed the way to her. "Just go right on through, Mrs. Denham, Mr. Quigg's expecting you."

"Thank you." Sally entered a thickly carpeted hallway. She was quite surprised at the plush atmosphere of Mr. Quigg's office... it was furnished almost as a library or living room. In place of the customary filing cabinets and steel furniture there were gracious colonial pieces, big chairs and period lamps. Recorded music played softly in the background.

She had not seen John Blodgett since--since that day--and the sight of his handsome figure came as a shock, arousing as it did those incredible memories of the event she hoped to forget eventually.

"Well, here's little Miz Denham," he said with his bland joviality. "You doin' all right, Sally?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and also inclined her head to Lee Quigg whom she did not know well. The blonde good looks of his twin sister had been transmuted in Lee to a rather weak handsomeness in a slim, wiry frame. He had only a pale echo of his twin's vitality and was nowhere near so forceful as his brother-in-law either. Still, he was the Quigg heir and the president of this financial institution and thus someone to be reckoned with in his own right. Smiling pleasantly at her, he pressed a little button on his desk. "Nell? We'll be in conference. No interruptions, please, I don't care who calls."

"Have a seat, Sally," Blodgett invited, "and I'll just fix us all somethin' cold to drink." She sank into an overstuffed chair and watched him work at the bar with its small built-in icemaker, mixing three potent drinks which he handed around.

"Are the papers ready?" Sally asked, determined to conduct affairs in a businesslike manner. She assumed that Blodgett would not have told Lee about what had taken place in her apartment... as Lauralee's brother, he could hardly approve of extra-marital affairs or so she naively thought.

"Not quite," John answered, seating himself on the arm of her chair and placing his arm over her shoulder, "that's why I called you over, honey. It seems there's a matter of a little more... collateral... that has to be put up." The pretty nervous bride stiffened and looked from one man to the other.

"But you promised--! Don't think you can back out of this, John Blodgett. I intend to hold you to our agreement," she looked him full in the face, purposefully.

"Don't you go gettin' on your high horse, now," he chided softly, but the threat was distinct in his gravelly voice. "I made my recommendation to Lee here, but he says it's pretty irregular, makin' a loan to folks that don't have any money or collateral and he's not sure the Board will stand for it unless he sort of comes out strong and rams it down their throats. 'Course he could lend the money private, if he was of a mind to..."

"Would you do that, Mr. Quigg?" Sally asked bravely. Suddenly she felt John Blodgett's large hand reaching down the open V-neck of her dress while at the same time he bent his head to hers and kissed the pearly lobe of her ear, running the tip of his tongue around the shell-like configuration of her ear. She gripped the chair-arms in shock and embarrassment. To her amazement, Lee Quigg did not seem to find John's behavior at all surprising. In fact, he watched avidly, his cold banker's eyes lighting with salacious lust as Blodgett further displayed his domination over the helpless woman by continuing to rummage in her dress until he had secured her left nipple in his fingers and began to tweak it to painful hardness. Sally's pale face flooded with crimson as the blood rushed to her cheeks. She wanted to leap up, to strike Blodgett... pummel him with her fists, but she couldn't make a move and sat mesmerized with the awful knowledge that everything, he was even abetting John Blodgett in his lechery and blackmail! Most incredible of all, on the other side of the heavy office door the business of Quiggville was going on just as usual, without a single citizen to know or to care that an innocent woman could be terrorized... or worse... by the town's two leading businessmen and that it could take place right in the bank manager's office!