Chapter 5

It was mid-afternoon by the time the hot sun streaming in through the uncurtained windows roused Jill Duncan from her drugged slumber. She opened her eyes groggily, not realizing at first where she was, and gazed in confusion at her own naked body splayed out upon the wild disorder of rumpled bedclothes. Why on earth had she gone to bed without putting on her nightgown or getting under the covers? she asked herself uneasily. Rubbing her eyes, the curvaceous redhead attempted to stand up only to collapse back upon the bed as a wave of dizziness surged through her aching head. Was she sick maybe? Or... or... a faint shred of memory wafted through her disoriented brain, and without quite remembering just why, she felt guilty and ashamed, and in some inexplicable way different from the way she'd always felt before. What happened to her last night. WHAT?

Even as the troubled young girl shook her tangled auburn curls and attempted to clear away the fog that had blotted out her memory of the previous evening, she remembered that she'd had an appointment at three o'clock this afternoon at the university. She groped for the clock that she usually placed beside her bed, finally locating it on the floor with a crack in its glass face but with its hands still faithfully ticking. Three-fifteen! Oh God, she felt far too ill to get up now--it was just impossible to even consider doing so. Every muscle in her naked body ached, and the flesh down between her legs felt raw and sensitive.

Another dim flicker of recollection rippled across Jill's brain, a repulsive lewd image of herself sprawled beneath a man's body with his long thick cock piercing deep into her hair-fringed pussy. The distraught auburn-haired student shuddered and sank back down upon the bed, resolutely pushing the depraved picture from her mind. I must have been looking at those porno magazines again; probably using the vibrator too, she decided. Well, never again. IS throw them away as soon as I get up. This explanation was humiliating enough, but it was far less horrifying than the truth which lurked deep within her subconscious, so she accepted it almost thankfully.

More sleeps that's what I need, she told herself, discarding any thought of attending her appointment as she curled beneath the crumpled sheet. That'll put these filthy ideas out of my mind. And with that she sank back once more into a deadening dreamless slumber.

It was almost two hours later when she was startled from her sleep by a loud tapping on the door. Leaping out of bed and grabbing a robe from the closet as she passed, the groggy young redhead pulled open the door. A uniformed man stood there holding out a piece of blue paper and mumbling something in Danish. A telegram!

In the Duncan home, telegrams were considered an expensive waste of good hard-earned money and were sent only in the event of severe illness or death. An icy chill of fear ran through Jill's scantily body now as she accepted the ominous slip of paper, it must be about daddy, he must have had another stroke! Too perturbed to notice the way the teenaged delivery boy was staring with wide-eyed interest at her partially revealed breasts Jutting out from the hastily flung on robe, she tore open the wire. Then, as she read it, her knees went weak with relief.

"MEET ME AT THE PAGODA RESTAURANT IN TIVOLI GARDENS AT EIGHT TONIGHT.

LOVE, ERIK"

Jill was surprised at the strong wave of happy excitement that ran through her body as she read and then reread the message. Part of her emotion was caused by relief, of course, but a good portion of it was pure pleasure at the prospect of seeing the handsome blond Dane again. A wide smile illuminated her pretty face, erasing the tightness from around her mouth and the worried expression from her green eyes.

Suddenly Jill became aware that the young telegraph boy was still standing in the doorway. Well, what does he want? she wondered. Did he expect a tip? But she'd read in a handbook prepared by the Danish government that tipping was necessary only in taxis in Denmark, so it couldn't be that. Perplexed by his odd behavior, the voluptuous auburn- haired girl followed his glance and then turned fiery-red as she saw }ROW her carelessly draped robe exposed the top of her full, upthrust breasts. She quickly pulled the garment tightly across her chest, causing the teenager to blush in embarrassment and quickly hurry down the stairs.

Smiling to herself at the expression of consternation on his youthful face, the curvaceous student turned back into the kitchen to make herself a pot of coffee. There were fragments of broken glass on the floor by the sink, and at the sight of them the disturbing feeling of guilt-ridden anxiety returned. Once again she tried to grasp hold of some distant memory, but it was as elusive as a dream. All the troubled redhead could be sure of was a peculiar sense of shame, and this amnesia worried her. Surely she hadn't drunk so much last night, the bottle was still half- full. What in God's name was causing her peculiar behavior?

A troubled frown replaced her smile as she picked up the slivers of glass, put on a kettle of water for coffee, and fetched her towel, soap, and lotions for a sponge bath. For some reason she felt very dirty, and she thought longingly of the large white tub in her parent's bathroom. She wondered what the Danes did for bathing--perhaps there were public baths - and determined to find out as soon as possible. Her memory black- out still tormenting her, she began to scrub furiously at her shapely body.

Perhaps she was going crazy? She remembered how her old Aunt Millicent had lost her memory of whole days at a time. How she'd once shown up for church on a Monday morning and had stood on the doorstep in the midst of a virtual blizzard hysterically proclaiming that the entire town was doomed to eternal hellfire for breaking the Sabbath. Finally they'd come and taken her away to Peaceful Valley Rest Home up in the Berkshires. The one time that Jill had visited her there, the confused old lady had called her Dorcas, thinking she was her mother. Perhaps the same sort of sickness was afflicting her now--hadn't she read somewhere that certain types of insanity ran in families?

As she washed her large well-rounded breasts, Jill realized that they were abnormally sore. She also seemed to have started her period, although it wasn't due for another week. Since she'd never been irregular in her life before now, she seized on this as a plausible explanation for her puzzling amnesia and determined to stop thinking about it. Obviously she'd been physically sick last night, and the memory loss was a quite natural consequence.

Feeling cleaned and almost her old self again, the twenty-two year old graduate student sat down at the tiny kitchen table to drink her coffee. Pushing all thoughts of last night's perplexing events from her mind, she attempted to immerse herself in one of the thick lawbooks she'd checked out from the library. Yesterday she'd successfully avoided her lewd distracting thoughts by involving herself in her work, but for some reason this didn't work today. All she could think about was the missed appointment with Professor Jorgensen. What on earth was she going to tell him--surely not that she'd been unable to get herself out of bed at three in the afternoon. Sickness... perhaps the flu... that sounded believable and was almost true, for she'd certainly been stricken by some sort of weird virus. Absentmindedly reaching for her cigarettes, Jill lit one Band inhaled deeply. Immediately she began to tremble like a leaf as her memory suddenly came rushing back, flooding her mind with obscene, unspeakable visions that she at once recognized to be the truth.

Hashish--of course! She'd smoked hashish with the hippies across the hall, and it had caused her to lose her memory. Now Jill found herself wishing that these lurid visions had never returned; she'd almost rather not have known that she'd acted in such a despicable manner. A repulsive picture of that corrupt young brunette sucking on her naked boy friend's long thick penis flashed before her eyes, and the distressed young woman remembered how she'd sat and watched this perverted spectacle. Yes, and she'd been aroused as she watched it... she clearly recalled the urgent throbbing heat in her vagina and the way she'd furtively rubbed her burning pussy against the edge of the foam mattress. Dear God! How could she have done such a depraved thing? The very thought of it made her fair-skinned face blush beet-red with humiliation. And then what had happened next? She knew there was something more, but she couldn't recall it. And perhaps it s just as well, she decided, gulping down the rest of her coffee. If it's more obscene than that, I don't think I ever want to know about it