Chapter 1

I wonder why it is, Sally Denham thought quizzically to herself, that nothing in life ever turns out quite the way you think it will? Take me, for instance, a born and bred New Englander--what am I doing in Quiggville, Tennessee? I'm not even sure I like the South (perhaps 'approve of' was more the term), yet here I am practically committed to spending the rest of my life here! Once Ray gets his partnership we'll be committed for sure.

Funny, how the expression had slipped into both their vocabularies so that one or the other of them seemed to use it several times a day. Once we get the partnership. Will our lives really change so radically, and for the better, when the magic day comes? As a matter of black and white practicality they would. We know what the drugstore grosses every year, and the net. Half that net will be ours... not just a salary. A salary that was far too low considering what pharmacists were making elsewhere, even taking into account that this apartment over the store was thrown in free of rent and utilities. Ray, of course, wouldn't see that he could be making twice as much in Knoxville or Nashville, or anywhere else in the country. And as Sally pointed out, that they could save the necessary capital twice as fast.

"But then I wouldn't get this chance, the option that I have by working here!"

"Do you mean an option in writing, like on a piece of property?" Sally's pretty brow wrinkled slightly.

"No, not an option in the literal sense. I meant the agreement between me and John Blodgett that I can come in as a full partner."

"And you have only his word on that?" the tiny furrows creased deeper and her clear grey eyes were disturbed, "No witnesses or anything?"

"Honey, that's the way business is done in small Southern towns... just by sort of talking things over. When the time comes, we'll draw up some kind of agreement. You have to remember that things are slow-paced here."

She would grant that. Things were snail-paced in Quiggville, in fact, and if it wasn't for the appointments of her piano pupils she often would not know what day of the week it was. Yet to see Ray so happy and absorbed in his work was worth it all, she felt. Traditionally a wife was the helpmate of her husband and should make the sacrifices and endure the necessary hardships to give him his start.

When they had met on the campus, Ray had made his prospects clear from the very beginning. His parents were dirt-poor farmers from the mountain area of Tennessee and he was attending school through a scholarship and money he had saved while in the army. Sally was not wealthy by any means, but certainly better off financially and in family background. They had married during their senior year and moved to Quiggville right after graduation. Ray had been recruited with glowing promises by John Blodgett... he needed a pharmacist immediately; the old man who had the job had died and the local residents had to go ten miles to the county seat to have prescriptions filled. In answer to Ray's questions about a share in the business he said he would be willing to take in a partner as soon as Ray could raise "a little cash to bind the deal" as he was occupied with other business interests and did not like to work in the store himself.

Sally never forgot her first look at Quiggville. It was little more than a crossroads, actually, with a square in the center of town where the roads met. The important stores and churches were located on the square, with a grassy park and the Confederate monument in the center. Stretching beyond that were a few blocks of houses in each direction along the shady quiet streets... and then the shabby, haphazardly-placed houses of the black people. A half-mile out of town was a new subdivision of rambling brick homes where the younger business and professional people lived and entertained each other with rounds of barbecues and cocktail parties.

The social position of the Denhams was not yet clearly defined. Ray had joined the Jaycees and Sally had been invited to some women's meetings, but they were not really "in", another fact which she found galling. Of course it was difficult to accept invitations or to entertain because of the long hours Ray worked and their shabby old apartment. Sally had painted and done a lot of fixing, but it was still dreary and depressing with its old- fashioned high ceilings and antiquated plumbing fixtures.

When they got the partnership they would buy a lot in Hickory Acres--their credit would be good then for a home building loan from the local bank. And they could afford to have a baby.

If we're still sleeping together, she said to herself. Oh, God, what makes me think of things like that? Of course we'll be sleeping together... we're husband and wife, and that's one of the most important things about marriage, isn't it? Yet after a year and a half together, the inexorable truth was that their sexual relationship was getting worse, not better. Since they had settled into the routine of their life in Quiggville, particularly, Ray initiated the sexual act less and less frequently. Sally never made advances to him, of course; she felt that was the man's prerogative and in any case her own sex drive seemed to be rather low... she could live with or without it... actually it was just a little bit distasteful to her, the whole messy thing. But she did worry about Ray's satisfaction and whether it was normal for him to so often be too tired or preoccupied.

Just last Sunday afternoon there had been a peculiar episode. She had been washing the lunch dishes while Ray sat in the living room reading the paper. Sally had not heard him enter the kitchen until the moment when he seized her around the waist. Of course she screamed and then laughed and they stood there together for a moment. Then Ray's hands had slipped upward to cup her firmly rounded breasts and she felt his lips nuzzling the back of her neck as he squeezed and kneaded the pliant, resilient flesh under his fingers. It wasn't that she didn't like to be caressed in that way, but her hands were wet and soapy and she didn't want to ruin his clean shirt... they were going for a drive as soon as she finished the dishes.

So she had continued with her work and acknowledged his presence only with a brief affectionate smile tossed over her shoulder at her young husband. He had kept his hands on her breasts and pressed closer behind her until she was wedged firmly between his body and the sink and his loins were up tight against the ample spheres of her buttocks. Suddenly she was uncomfortably aware that Ray had an erection and the hard throbbing bulk of his penis was pressing into the crevice at the end of her spine. Perversely, her only reaction was annoyance.

Why on earth, at such an inappropriate time? A peaceful Sunday afternoon and they were almost ready to go out. She set the last saucepan in the drain and pulled the plug, still pretending not to notice Ray's obvious arousal although his penis was now digging into her to the point of widening the split between the two soft fleshy cheeks of her buttocks. His hands slipped from her taut-stretched nipples and began to work up under her apron, massaging her flat little belly while from the rear he slowly rubbed his loins against her with insinuating pressure.

"Sally," his warm breath stirred in her left car, "let's go in the bedroom, honey!"

"Oh, Ray..." she protested gently, "here I've been hurrying to get ready while you read the paper, and now you want to fool around."

"Who's fooling around? I mean business, -I'm horny as hell!"

"Ray!" she hated that vulgar expression. "I just don't understand why--I mean, of all times," it was difficult to hold her voice steady when his fingers had reached her pubic mound and were moving over the sensitive area in a slowly rotating motion that despite her annoyance was making her feel curiously weak and warm up between her legs. At that moment the wall telephone rang.

"Damn it to hell!" her husband cursed with surprising ferocity.

Sally twisted in his grip, "A--aren't you going to answer it?"

He shook his head and resumed his lewd probing of his wife's trembling loins. "It's my day off."

"But it may be a customer needing a prescription."

The phone kept on ringing insistently as the young couple stood there locked in an obscene embrace with Ray's hand thrust up between his wife's legs. Then, abruptly--almost roughly -he released her and pushed her away as he moved to snatch the telephone receiver.

It was a customer, a heart patient, who had just discovered he was out of the digitalis pills he must take daily.

"All right," Ray said wearily, "Come down to the store in about fifteen minutes. No--no free delivery nights or Sundays, only during regular store hours. You can send a taxi if you don't feel like coming yourself, Mr. Pickett."

Sally was already busy drying her hands. "We could drop the pills off... we'll be out in the car anyway," she whispered to Ray, but he was already hanging up. She carefully avoided looking at the front of his slacks where she knew the tell-tale bulge still pushed out the fly in an incongruous manner. He was glaring coldly at her.

"Be damned if we will. If he took his last pill yesterday, why couldn't he come in then for a refill? Because he enjoys making a big emergency deal out of it!" He strode angrily out of the room and she heard him go noisily down the stairs to open the drug store.

Poor dear, he'd been working entirely too many hours, and should at least have one day of rest in the week. It seemed so unfair that John Blodgett should reap all the profits of the drug store when he did nothing more than go over the books occasionally, while Ray was on his feet from nine to six with an additional three hours on Friday night. And nearly every evening there was a call for a rush prescription, usually a child suddenly taken sick. There was of course Minnie, the efficient spinster who clerked in the front of the store and supervised the moronic teenagers who came and went at the soda fountain. But the burden of the purchasing and inventory, as well as the busy pharmacy department, fell on Ray.

When they finally did set out in their old hardtop, however, his usual good humor seemed to have returned. They had long since explored every road leading out of Quiggville, for these rides were their chief recreational outlet, but still it was interesting to observe the countryside at different seasons of the year. The spring was Sally's favorite time... it was so much more lush than a New England spring and came a full two months earlier. Now, at the end of a dry summer, there seemed to be a dusty haze in the air and a sleepiness had settled over the scorching red-clay fields.

They drove first to Hickory Acres to inspect the newly- staked-out lots in the undeveloped portion of the subdivision.

"Someone's bought the corner one," she touched her husband's arm and pointed to the sign which was slashed diagonally by a bright yellow strip bearing the letters SOLD.

"Yeah... so I see. But that's the only one. They're not moving so fast, what with the recession..." Ray was careful not to voice their unspoken fear that the lot of their choice might be purchased by someone else first. They got out of the car and went through the ritual of pacing off where the house would sit and where the front door would be.

The rest of the day Sally remembered had gone quite smoothly. They had a light supper and spent the evening watching TV. When the late news came on Sally had gone ahead and showered as she liked her shower or bath at night whereas Ray preferred one in the morning. When he came into the bedroom she was already in bed, with only the sheet pulled over her. In her fresh cotton baby- doll nightie she looked like a child, except for the outline of her high curving breasts that protruded provocatively over the fold of the sheet and faint dip of the "vee" between her legs where the light material bunched.

Ray stripped in a rapid, business-like way and stood naked beside her for a few seconds; he never wore pajamas... it was a habit she simply could not talk him out of. In the brief interval before his hand touched the light switch and plunged the room into darkness, Sally's wide grey eyes rested lovingly on his tall, lanky form. She did love every inch of him, from the black hair that had a habit of falling over his right eye, to his big-boned hands that could be so gentle, right down to his size twelve feet! (In her mental inventory, Sally passed hurriedly over her husband's genitals which now hung down flaccidly between his hairy legs but were still impressive in their proportions.)

She snuggled closer to him as he climbed into the bed and stretched out beside her, almost positive that they would make love tonight since he had been so eager for sex that afternoon. She was determined to try very hard to enjoy the act this time... yes, even the last of it when he filled her with his messy, sticky cum!

But Ray seemed to have entirely forgotten about the incident and apparently sex was not on his mind tonight. He lay on his back for a few moments, then rolled over with an affectionate pat delivered to her backside. "G'night, honey."

"G-goodnight, darling," she whispered back timidly. She felt surprised and oddly tense as she lay there beside his warm naked body and almost wanted to reach over and stroke him or somehow indicate her willingness. She didn't want to make any brazen announcement, however, and after a while she knew by his slow deep breathing that Ray had fallen asleep.

She really couldn't imagine why she was dwelling on the events of last Sunday... except it seemed to mark some kind of turning point in their deteriorating sexual relationship, as though her rejection that afternoon had really discouraged her husband. But that was absurd, they were still practically newlyweds and only needed time to make these adjustments and solve whatever problems had arisen. It wasn't a problem in as far as she was concerned... although she found sex disappointing and not very enjoyable at best, she would go through with it a reasonable amount of times for Ray's sake. She and Ray might have different temperaments, but each respected the other's desires and interests. For instance, Ray had not wanted her to give up her music and had bought an old upright piano for her to practice on and to instruct her half-dozen pupils. Why, Lord, she had a pupil coming for a lesson in twenty minutes, and here she was sitting around daydreaming! She began to move automatically around the living room, straightening up.

In the drugstore below, Ray Denham had for once caught up on the list of prescriptions to be filled and they sat along the counter in a neat row while he worked on the wholesale orders at the old-fashioned desk. Suddenly he heard a gravely southern accent from the front of the store and recognized it immediately as John Blodgett's voice.

"How 'do, Miss Minnie! You doin' all right?" and then without waiting for her answer, "Good, good!"

Blodgett breezed by the soda fountain with a lecherous wink at the clerk, "Honey, bring me and Mister Denham some cokes with lots of ice, child, lots of ice."

He eased his considerable bulk behind the prescription counter, "Hi there, Ray--you doin' all right?"

"Just fine, John," Ray said placidly, in the knowledge that business was good and getting steadily better. He pulled up a chair for the older man. Blodgett was sweating, staining his immaculate light blue sports shirt, and he took out a handkerchief and passed it over his ruddy face and thick shock of graying hair. He was a handsome man of about fifty, beginning to show unmistakable signs of overindulgence in good food and drink but still fit and powerful looking.

"Another hot one," he sighed. "We sure do need some rain awful bad. All my sweet corn is just dryin' up... just parchin' under that sun."

"Is that what you raise out there, corn?" Ray asked, waiting for his boss to come around to the purpose of his visit.

"Oh, I raise a little bit of this and that. Main thing, course, is my beef cattle. I'm just a gentleman farmer, and I guess that's a good thing, because it's hard to make money at farming these days."

The girl appeared with two large cokes and Blodgett nudged Ray's elbow. "Look at that," he said in a husky undertone, "Just look at that sweet little ass on that child!" It was true that the girl's nylon mini uniform barely cleared her tender, youthful buttocks. Ray had actually been too busy to notice her nubile figure before. Blodgett opened the lower desk drawer and brought out a bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey he kept there. He added a generous slug of the amber liquid to each coke.

"Course you got yourself something a lot nicer than that right upstairs," he continued in an aggrieved tone, "Why, man, you're practically still on your honeymoon. But when you get to be my age you sure will appreciate those cute, raunchy little teenagers, let me tell you!" he pushed one of the drinks toward Ray.

"I don't like to drink in the store," Ray said doubtfully as he picked it up. "You know--old ladies come in and smell it on your breath, they spread it all over town that you've taken to drink."

"You're a smart man, Ray," John Blodgett said admiringly. "Yes sir, always lookin' ahead... a damn smart man. You know, I just got the bad news the other day that I'm gonna have to cut down on the brew myself. Yep, just found out that my blood pressure's gone sky-high. Old Doc wasn't one bit encouraging... said I'm headed straight for a heart attack if I don't slow down and take things easy. Fact is, that's why I stopped by."

Ray Denham had a sudden premonition that something might be wrong, just from the way Blodgett's guileless blue eyes were roving over the shelves of pharmaceuticals and avoiding his face.

"It looks like I have to think about retiring long before I'm sixty-five," the older man continued, "or sort of semi-retiring... I'm only going to keep hold of the properties that'll work for me without me working on them... see what I mean?"

Ray shook his head and waited to hear what was coming next.

"No, I reckon you don't. Well, take this store, for instance. Since you took over it runs pretty smooth, I certainly got to admit that, but there's still the bookkeeping and figuring the taxes. I want to get shut of it. Instead of taking in a partner, I've decided to sell out, Ray--the whole works."

There was a moment of absolute silence. Then Ray took a hefty swallow of the sweet, whiskey-laced cola. "T-the building, too?" Blodgett's stunning announcement had caught him so suddenly that it was taking him several seconds to assimilate the knowledge and what it would mean for him.

"Oh, not the building. You won't catch me selling a piece of prime real estate that's right on the square. No, I mean the inventory, all the fixtures, the good will... everything that's inside these four walls. Then I'll give the buyer a long-term lease..." he smiled at Ray, "You know, I was really lookin' forward to us working as partners... carrying out your ideas for remodeling... but when I got the word from Doc I knew I just had to think of my health first. And there's Lauralee--I don't want to up and die and leave her a widow."

"Yes... sure," Ray said, his mind going inevitably to Sally's worried questions, nothing in writing? You only have his word for it? He felt curiously light and hollow, as if the support had been knocked out of him. How could he tell her? How could he ever tell Sally?

"Have you, uh," he cleared his throat, "Have you set a price?"

Blodgett settled himself firmly in the wooden chair and tilted the creaking piece of furniture back on two legs. "Well," he crunched the ice from his drink loudly between his teeth, "I'm thinking in the neighborhood of fifty thousand, Ray."

"F-fifty?"

"Think about the inventory. You know yourself what's sitting here in the inventory."

Ray knew. He also knew that much of it, including the last big drug order, was not paid for yet. Still--perhaps it was a fair price. Although it seemed an astronomical sum, especially since Blodgett had promised to make him a partner as soon as he had $5000. By putting $200 in the bank every month, he had already saved $2800, he was more than halfway there... but now he wondered whether Blodgett would have held to the bargain, after all? "B-but, John, over the next few years your profits from the store will be much more than that. I can run everything--you wouldn't have to spend any time here at all unless you wanted to."

"There's something in what you say," the big man admitted, "Only the thing is, Ray, that I'll be spending my winters in Florida from now on... buyin' myself one of these condominium apartments right on the beach, and me and Lauralee are fixin' to go down there just as soon as I get everything straightened out here. Now those apartments cost a heap of money and I got to raise some cash... ever'body thinks I'm a real rich son of a bitch... I don't complain, but the fact is it's all tied up in real estate. Naturally we couldn't sell the farm--it's the old Quigg place, belonged to Lauralee's folks since God knows when-- and we'll live there summers or whenever we take a notion to come back to town. And like I already said, I don't want to part with any property in the business district. 'Bout the only thing left is this drugstore."

"I see," Ray nodded, trying to control his wildly spiraling doubts and thoughts, "How much--how much time will I have, in case I could maybe make some kind of deal to buy the place?"

"That would please me very much, if you see yourself in a position to buy. Well, I hope to get down there to Florida around the first of November... so that leaves about two months. I, uh, I already had one offer, Ray, and they agreed to meet that price I mentioned. I won't say who the offer was from, but it's a big chain of discount drugstores."

As Blodgett sipped his drink and continued to unfold the story, Ray Denham felt a rising anger that blotted out caution and made calm speech impossible. "Look here, John," he pointed out, "You know I graduated at the top of my class. I had my choice of jobs and this was the lowest-paid of all, but I took it, for just one reason. I wanted to own my own business, and that's what you promised me--and I thought you'd be as good as your word!"

"Now hold on, son..." Blodgett tried to protest, but Ray plunged wildly on, raising his voice so that he could be heard throughout the store.

"Now you tell me that you've been dealing behind my back to sell the business right out from under me! Why, I don't think you ever had any intention of keeping our agreement; you just wanted to hire a cheap pharmacist!"

"That's enough, Ray," Blodgett's voice was still mild, but his pale blue eyes glittered with a cold light and his florid face had reddened to a deeper shade. He stood up. "You better simmer down before you say something you're going to regret later on. I know you're disappointed and I'm not sayin' you don't have maybe some right to be. But I had no way of knowing my health was going to fold up on me, so to speak. Why, when I brought you down here I was lookin' forward to us running the store for years to come, and I'll be very happy if you can raise the money to buy me out. You're well thought of here in Quiggville... you and your little wife... and if I was you I wouldn't want to spoil that reputation by gettin' all hotheaded. I'll be talking to you later."

He turned on his heel and strolled through the store in a leisurely manner as if they had discussed nothing more important than the weather. Ray stared after the retreating figure, his fists clenched unconsciously, until Blodgett passed through the front door. Then he reached for the bottle of whiskey, poured a double shot into his coke, tilted his head back and drank.

He was thankful for the sound of the faltering piano notes that could be faintly heard from upstairs... Sally had a pupil... he could postpone giving her the news at least for a little while. He didn't have to tell her at all today, of course, but he knew that he would. As much as he loved Sally, he wondered if it would have been better to wait a few years before marrying. A man had no business getting married before he was making a good income and could provide the things girls had come to expect. Why should Sally be penalized... not able to have a modern house with nice furniture and the latest appliances... or pretty new clothes? They'd never even had a real honeymoon, a thing which Ray bitterly regretted most of all. Because maybe their sex life would have gotten off to a better start if he had been able to take his inexperienced young bride to some romantic, relaxing spot for the first few nights. Instead of staying in some plush hotel or motel with a pool, they'd moved directly into a grubby little campus apartment that was as bad as the one they lived in now. Her folks had been very upset... they'd wanted the couple to wait at least until graduation... they hadn't given Sally any presents or any financial help at all except paying her college fees for the rest of the year. No, they hadn't wanted their daughter to throw herself away on some no-account southerner!

It seemed ironic now that the quality about Sally which had first attracted him to her was a sort of coolness about her... something that said "don't touch me." He was sure that Sally was one of the very few virgins on the campus, which had indeed proved to be the case. Fiercely proud as he was, it was important to Ray that his wife should be a woman whom no other man besides himself had ever possessed... or ever would possess!

Once they were married, though, he had looked for a change in her standoffish attitude. He knew she loved him and had been eager to marry as soon as possible. He had mistakenly believed she was just as eager for the physical side of marriage, but from the first night, sex had been a fiasco... his bride seemed to turn into a lump of ice under him. Maybe it took more time than he'd realized, especially for a girl brought up in a very conventional manner as Sally had been.

Absently, he carried the empty cola cups out to the soda fountain. The girl reached out to take them, tossing the paper liners into the trash can and stacking the gleaming metal bases expertly on a shelf. "Something else for you, Mr. Denham?" she inquired solicitously, her made-up dark eyes bright with curiosity. No doubt she'd overheard the row with John Blodgett.

"Uh, no... thanks," he stared at her. God, he couldn't even remember the little tart's name; she was new... long black hair fixed into an elaborately artificial set and a long slender body that seemed far too mature for her sixteen or so years. Ray ran his suddenly dry tongue around his mouth... it must be the whiskey... sweet little ass, Blodgett had said... Christ, it was a beautiful ass, perfectly outlined by the electrically clinging nylon fabric... and all at once he found himself wondering what it would be like to rip the skimpy uniform off the girl... spread her legs out.

Drops of sweat beaded on Ray's brow. Yes, how would it feel to ram his cock into that soft little belly? Christ, he groaned inwardly, how could he think of such things when he had a beautiful young wife upstairs at this very moment? He hadn't so much as looked at another girl since he married Sally.

Yet as he stood there in confusion, he was uncomfortably aware that his cock had in mere seconds responded to his lewd thoughts about the soda fountain waitress and it was now lying heavily against his stomach, fully erect. Turning hastily, he retreated to the prescription department. God, what would happen to his "good name" in this town if he started making passes at his clerks? As he sat there staring blankly at the forgotten list for the wholesale house, Miss Minnie suddenly entered the little cubicle, her face flushed with excitement. "Mr. Denham!" she blurted, "He's going to sell the store, isn't he?"

"I--" obviously she knew something was up, so why evade her question? "That's what he's talking about, yes."

"I knew it! I knew the other day that something was wrong. Mr. Blodgett brought some men from Memphis in, they was going all over everything... asking questions."

"When was that?" Ray inquired.

"Well, you wasn't here. Must have been the day you were in the city. See, he made sure to bring 'em when you wouldn't be around!"

"Look," Ray said, "I'm sure it's as much of a shock to you as it is to me, Miss Minnie. More, because you've worked here a lot longer than I have. But I don't think you have anything to worry about. Whoever the--the new owner is, he'll need employees, and there's no one who knows the store like you do."

"Mmmhmm... and what about you, Mr. Denham?"

He shrugged unhappily. "I don't know. We'll just have to see. If I can't get at least part ownership, then I don't want to work for someone else. I can do that anywhere, for a hell of a lot more money!"

When Ray came upstairs that night, a half hour after closing time, Sally sensed immediately that something was wrong. It was in the defeated slump of his shoulders and the bleak gloominess of his face. But she said nothing, waiting for him to tell her about it. She had fixed him a good dinner for the hot weather... cold sliced ham, snap beans, macaroni salad and cornbread. Sally was proud that she was learning to cook in the southern way.