Chapter 14

Saturday, Aug 25, 5:34 pm

Sarah got up with her cup, walking slowly, mostly steady, out to the kitchen. Trisha had left only a few moments ago to rent some movies for the night.

In the kitchen, she rinsed out her cup and set it in the sink, then turned and looked about the room.

She loved the house. Maybe a century or more in age, filled with various antiques, most not that expensive but some, she knew were costly. Teachers didn't make that much, so this had to be a family house, something he had inherited. Given the amount of photos all over the place of Bill at various ages and a whole lot of others with him, she was sure of this idea.

She pushed away from the counter and turned left. The stove sat against a divider wall; she rounded the wall and found the wash area. Leading past this was a doorway. She walked to it and found a lovely dining room. A huge antique table with 8 chairs about it. An ancient, well preserved china closet filled with enough china to feed what looked like 20 people.

The walls had a host of plates mounted. Each plate had some sort of image on it.

Her hand idly stroking the back of a chair as she looked about, Sarah smiled. Now intrigued, she turned and left, passing back through the wash area. She could turn left for what she believed was the back door, or right to the kitchen. She turned back through the kitchen and headed down the hall.

The stairway was to her left, the front door before her and a doorway to either side. She turned right and entered the living room. A large fireplace dominated the room, sitting midway along the right hand wall. Windows on the wall across from her and to her left filled the room with a warm light. Pictures were about the room - on walls and end tables. A pair of recliners, a couch and a glider with matching ottoman were spaced around the room.

Sarah sat in what had to be Bill's chair, pushing it back fully. A lamp hung near, perfect for reading, and now she knew for sure that this one was his. She chuckled over the bookshelves he seemed to stick just about anywhere he could. The man liked to read. His den had the same chaotic sense with bookshelves.

She pushed up the chair and stood slowly, heading back out to the hallway.

And looked at the staircase.

Smiling an impish smile, she started slowly up the stairs. Carpeted, the stairway turned left at the top, where one could turn right or left. To the left was the room she was staying in and a doorway opposite hers. To the right was Bill's bedroom door and the door leading to the bathroom.

Grinning, a little nervous, Sarah walked towards Bill's door...

Lou turned to face Bill as Tom finished. He was prepared to do what needed to be done to make sure that Bill didn't do something stupid.

But, to the surprise of the both of them, Bill sat there, his face wiped of any emotion.

Long moments passed. Finally Bill sighed.

"Alright. You two have had time to think about this, discuss this. I want your thoughts."

Again, the two were surprised. Tom's jaw dropped as Lou crouched down.

Lou said, "Without question, the man needs tending to."

Tom nodded quickly in agreement.

Lou continued. "If we go to the law, we're going against Sarah's wishes. And I for one don't want to deal with those assholes anyway. With his cash, I doubt he'd do a day's time. And the punishment for rape is pretty weak. You'll do more time for a bag of weed than for a rape."

Bill's teeth gritted a bit, but he said nothing, still appeared somewhat outwardly calm. Lou noticed this, took it into account, and continued. Tom, watching Lou, didn't.

"So," Lou said, gesturing with his beer. "Something else has to happen. This man requires some justice coming to him." He looked pointedly at Bill. "We have your back, pretty much whatever you chose to do. However," here he grinned his famous, brilliant 'Lou' grin, "let's keep in mind that ain't none of us wanting to worry about being someone's bitch in a prison cell. Whatever we do, Bill, should be hardcore. But hardcore ... and smart."

For a moment Bill just looked at Lou. Then ... slowly ... a smile crept up. "You're right.

Thank you, both of you." Sipping from his beer for the first time, Bill got thoughtful. "Now ... about Partridge..."

Standing in the doorway, Sarah looked into Bill's bedroom. It was a good-sized one, although not as large as she would think the house would have for a master bedroom. She stepped up into the room, the bedroom's floor a bit higher than the hallway's floor.

His bed was center opposite wall, the foot of the bed facing her. Her dimples deepened.

A bureau (antique, of course) was against the left wall, a door to the bureau's left closed. A dresser was against the right wall along with a small closet that stuck from the wall. One lone window lead into this room. She moved to the window, looking out. It had a great view of the backyard; the blueberry bushes, the garden along side the small building facing the corner street. Bill's home sat in corner of a road running straight before the front of the house and another street on the other side of his property that came at an angle, forming a 'y'.

Turning from the window, she noticed he hadn't any pictures in this room - which was the first room in the house that she had seen no pictures of his boys on the walls. In fact, there were no pictures at all in here, although plenty of book shelves.

He hadn't made the bed this morning, the top sheet was disheveled and the blanket nearly on the floor. She was tempted to lay on the bed - strongly tempted. She ran her fingers over the spot where he had slept, a part of her feeling a little foolish, but a surprisingly small part. She was still sorting out how to deal with the attack, but one thing she now understood all too well - time was fickle. You think you have so much ahead of you, you're plans laid out, and something (or someone) could totally change things. She could have ... died in that parking lot.

She turned and sat on the bed, the mattress sinking slightly as her weight settled down on it. A blush was rising and she felt a little warm. Turning about, she lay back, her head laying on one of his pillows. Soft, feather pillows.

Her breaths came in short quick pulls as she looked up at the ceiling. She could smell him in the room, in the air over the bed. Could almost feel him in the room, could imagine him looking down at her ... on his bed.

She was still confused over how she felt for Bill. It was all such a mess. At times, with his confidence about her, she felt ... almost ... submissive. At other times he seemed almost a father figure. At all times she felt a desire to belong to him. She didn't understand it, not at all. She had never felt like this before with anyone, didn't know she was capable of it. God damn it, she had plans. Her future was mapped out for her by her. She had known all through high school, hell, throughout junior high, that she would be a veterinarian. And nothing was going to stop her. Not even this bizarre attraction for one of her own frigging professors.

But goddddddd ... the way he made her feel.

With a smile, she slowly sat up. Her chest rose and fell rapidly (doing nothing good for her ribs). Her shirt ... Bill's tee shirt ... had ridden up while she had laid down. Her pelvis was almost revealed, and though the bruises were shocking in the purpleness of it, she knew how slutty she had just looked on his bed. She wondered what he would think, what he would do, if he came in while she was like that. Her smile was because of the gathering moistness she felt in her cunt, and the smile was more than just lust - it was delirious happiness over the fact that she now knew Bill Partridge hadn't killed her desire for a man.

Tom sucked at the joint, a fat one that Lou had rolled. He was nervous but also feeling good. They had discussed what they were going to do for a long while, creating and discarding a host of plans. But they had one now, and Tom was responsible for most of it.

Holding the hit in, he passed the joint to Lou, who was sitting on the floor with his back to a wall.

Bill had Lou's 12 string acoustic guitar. He had spent the better part of the last hour tuning it as they had discussed the details of what they would do, searching out the weak spots again and again. Now he was strumming a few chords.

Taking in a decent hit from the joint, Lou watched Bill. The only weak spot in their plans lay in Bill himself. He couldn't lose it at any time during their action. If he did, he could land them all in jail. But he was pretty sure that Bill was aware of it, and the fact that Lou and Tom were also involved should keep his head straight. Bill had a strong desire to not fuck up others lives, and this could end theirs as they knew it.

He passed the joint to Bill, who paused his idle playing and took it from Lou. He took a drag, his eyes squinting from the smoke. He held it, passed it on to Tom, then continued his playing. He actually played a song, one that Lou and Tom couldn't place. His fingers dancing as he slowly released his hit, he made the guitar sing in his rough style.

Trisha pulled into the double driveway that Bill shared with his neighbors. A line of tall firs separated the driveways.

Bill wasn't back yet, she noticed as she climbed from the car. She opened the back seat and grabbed the bags that were there, heading for the door to the house.

The door opened up next to the attached two car garage, leading into a hall that had steps leading down to the basement to her right, and stairs leading up to the door that opened into the wash area of the house, just off the kitchen. She looked at the Mustang sitting in one of the garage bays, remembering how Tom and Lou had come out to clean the back after things had settled that first night. The amount of bloodied rags they had tossed out had shocked everyone.

She crossed the wash area and entered the kitchen, setting her bags down on the table. She could hear music coming from the den, sounded like Bonnie Raitt, and headed into the room.

The doors that opened onto a porch off of the den were open. Trisha walked over and stepped out onto the porch.