Chapter 5: A Taste of Power

Saturday, 11 January 1969

Joe Hamel was happy to drive Wayne down to Indy after the holiday. It gave him an opportunity to relax with his son and not be interfered with by the women. He loved his wife and daughter, but they could really dominate a conversation. He’d finished the valve job on the ‘56 Golden Hawk over Christmas and they felt the Packard 352 engine rumble as they sailed down US 31. They rode nearly fifty miles before either of them said anything.

“You never said how the young woman liked her Christmas present,” Joe said. “In fact, I don’t recall you mentioning her name.”

“You weren’t there for that conversation? Seems like everything at home has to be said three or four times,” Wayne laughed. “Judith loved the present. When she picked the sword up out of the box, I thought she was going to challenge all comers. She’s tiny, but she can be pretty frightening.”

“Nothing wrong with a strong woman. You’re acting differently than you did with your last girlfriend. A little more mature, I guess.”

“Well, I don’t expect to be buying an engagement ring in the next few months if that’s what you mean. I did kind of rush things with Barbara.” Joe nodded sagely. Thank heavens that hadn’t gone anywhere, Joe thought. The girl was a bit of a shrew and he wouldn’t put it past her to get knocked up to force Wayne to marry her. The engagement ring had probably short-circuited that as she figured she didn’t need to put out to get it. From what Joe understood, there had been quite a flurry of letters between the two with Barbara writing very uncomplimentary things about his son. Wayne had responded in kind with a parody of her letter, turning everything back on her. Joe had waited at the end of the lane when Wayne asked him to drive him over to get back the engagement ring. That was his son. If he wasn’t confident about his emotional temperament and ability to stay in control while he was driving, he knew he could depend on his dad. Staying in control was the real issue. They were coming past the turnoff for Noblesville before he spoke again.

“Judith ... that’s her name? Pretty.”

“Yeah. She’s pretty, too.”

“Hmm. Strong and pretty. Powerful?”

“As fast and sleek as this car.” They both laughed.

“Powerful car. Powerful bike. Powerful women. They can all be more powerful than you are. But like your motorcycle, power is a dangerous thing if you don’t stay in control.”

That was the last that was spoken before they pulled into the parking lot at the college. Wayne unloaded his suitcase, a boxful of Christmas gifts, and the long bow his uncle had given him. He hugged his father goodbye and skipped up the steps to the dorm.

Joe was happy. He’d had a good talk with his son.

Wayne dropped his packages off in his room and ran for the women’s side of the dorm. It was Friday noon and classes wouldn’t start until Monday. He had no idea when Judith was slated to arrive back in town, but he could hope. He raised his hand to knock at her door just as it opened.

“Aaaiiiieee!” Judith screamed. The next thing Wayne knew he was sinking down the wall across the hall gasping for breath as Judith hovered over him panting. “Oh my god! Oh my god! I’m sorry. Did I hurt you? I’m sorry. You startled me.”

“I think I’ll live, but would you mind putting your knife away?” Judith glanced at the three-inch blade in her right hand. She collapsed it and it disappeared in her belt. Wayne watched, but was distracted by what was beneath the belt. Judith was wearing sneakers with about a mile of bare leg exposed between them and the very short skirt she was wearing. How could such a short girl have such long beautiful legs? She bent over to help him up and his gaze shifted to cleavage exposed by the three open buttons of her oxford shirt. “Are we okay?” he asked.

“Okay? Oh god! I’ve been waiting for you all week. I didn’t know how to reach you. I finally got them to let me into the dorm on Monday. There hasn’t been anyone here and I wasn’t expecting you when I opened the door and your fist was raised...”

Wayne reached for her and pulled her into a kiss that deepened rapidly until both were panting.

“I came by to see if you’d like to go to lunch,” Wayne gasped.

“Lunch. Yeah. That would be good.” Then they returned to their kiss.

Eventually they did get to lunch. The cafeteria was still closed since school didn’t start until Monday, but the new McDonald’s was only a few blocks away. They walked over, guided by the lighted sign that said, “Over a billion sold!”

“Man. Who eats a billion hamburgers?” Wayne asked. “I’ll have three double cheeseburgers, fries, and a chocolate shake.”

“I’ll have the fish filet, fries and a Coke,” Judith told the clerk.

“Judith. I’m going to ... Judith. Oh god, Judith!”

Wayne’s hands were filled with Judith’s awesome soft breasts. They hadn’t undressed, but when he went back to her room after lunch they’d started kissing again and then ended up on her bed. School wasn’t in session and most students wouldn’t arrive until Sunday so there was no monitor in the lobby and no one really knew he was in the girls’ wing.

“Oh, Wayne! I feel it. I’m ... kiss me.”

Her lips mashed against his and her tongue drove into his mouth. She rode on top of him rubbing her clit against his now-wet hard-on. Just his jeans and her panties between their genitals—preventing penetration.

They’d just been making out. They lay down on the bed with each other. She let him slip his hands under her blouse and reached back to unfasten her own bra, giving him free access. And they felt so unbelievably good. They’d started moving together, rubbing their crotches, building the fervor until they both climaxed, spewing their juices into their underwear.

“God, that’s going to be sticky,” he said.

“Don’t leave me tonight, Wayne,” she gasped. “Hold me close and sleep with me.”

She rolled off him, pushing her rear up against him as he turned toward her. She pulled his right hand back under her oxford as she lay cradled in his left arm. His hand on her breasts. All night.

They slept.

Sunday, 19 January 1969, early morning

“Hey. Cuppa joe and a coupla sinkers, babe.”

“Whata you? Holden Caulfield, tonight?” she answered in a Bronxy accent. She was so damned good with different dialects. “Where ya been, toots?” she asked as she set coffee, a fresh creamer, and two old fashioned doughnuts in front of him.

“Great holiday vacation. Spent Christmas with my folks and New Year’s with my uncle. They didn’t open the dorms until this past weekend.”

“Well, I’m glad somebody had a happy holiday. I almost quit this joint.”

“Why?” Wayne asked, alarmed.

“Stupid hold-up. Here I am on Christmas Eve, keeping the coffee on for people who don’t have any family or place to be, and two guys come in, pull a gun and demand all the money. On Christmas Eve! Cops are all over the place—too late, of course—and the boss calls me in the middle of the afternoon on Christmas Day and threatens to fire me. Me! Ah, what a bastard. It’s over now. I’m still here and he can go to hell.”

“Gees, Lissa. I’m sorry to hear about all that. I don’t know what this area’s coming to. We were broken into over the holiday, too.”

“You and your sweetheart?”

“No, the theatre at school. Nobody can figure out what the heck went on. Nothing seems to be missing, but the security guard was making his rounds and found all the lights in the dressing rooms, costume shop, scene shop, props closet—everything—on. All the doors open. Nobody around.”

“Haunted?”

“Blithe Spirit? I don’t think so. Locks on the dressing rooms and scene shop were broken. Other than that, no real damage done. Great way to start the term, though, seeing Jim’s dreaded C-ME note with my name attached on the call board. He was pretty ticked off.”

“Sounds malevolent. You be careful over there.”

“Thanks for the advice, Lissa.”

“Now tell me more about your break. Since I didn’t have one, I want to live through yours.” Wayne obliged her with the usual family stories and mentioned his trip to see his uncle. She seemed very interested in that, but he was careful not to say too much. Heck, it was the best dream of his vacation. Until he got back.

Thursday, 20 February 1969

Wayne glanced at his watch and sighed. Two a.m. and he was perched at the top of an eighteen-foot stepladder trying to control a thirty-pound Fresnel over his head while he tightened the C-clamp.

Production weeks were the pits. His classes went to hell; he slept little, ate poorly, and felt like something dragged him out of a gutter. But the show would open tomorrow night as shows always opened: on time. This was the last all-nighter he would pull for a few weeks anyway. And at least he didn’t have any early morning classes this term.

“Dimmer 23,” he yelled back to Beth at the light board backstage. The light came up and he made the final adjustment of focus on Judith, standing primly in the beam beneath him. He couldn’t believe how their relationship had developed. A little romance changed his perspective on life. “That’s it!” He slid the gel into place and started down the ladder.

“Hooray!” yelled both assistants. The house lights came up and the dimmer faded. Wayne heard the unmistakable clatter of the old light board shutting down. The many handles and levers on the antique resistance board required two people to run lights for a show with an occasional hand from an actor walking by. It was amazing that Beth could even shove the handles into position. Someday they would have an autotransformer panel. Until then...

Wayne hit the last step and tumbled exhaustedly into Judith’s waiting arms. “Poor baby,” she said, stroking his greasy hair. “All tired out?”

“Wiped,” he responded.

“Hey, me too,” Beth said coming out on stage to join in a group hug.

“How can either of you stand to be close to me?” Wayne asked. “I stink.”

“How could I tell?” asked Beth. “I’ve been shut up in that hot little hole for eight hours. I’m outa here.” She gave Judith and Wayne a little squeeze and headed for the door.

“You sure you don’t want to wait for company to walk back to the dorm?” Wayne asked as she opened the door.

“No way,” Beth responded. “By the time you two finish kissing good night, I’ll be fast asleep.”

“What makes you think I want to kiss a stinky old fish like him?” Judith called after Beth.

“Take it with a spoonful of sugar to help the medicine go down,” Beth sang from the hall.

“Say, that would be supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,” Wayne laughed.

“Much more interesting if you got a shower,” Judith said mugging a face.

“We couldn’t get into the dorm and out again this late at night,” Wayne answered. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Bedtime?” she asked innocently.

“I wouldn’t even insult my dorm sheets with this body.”

“Use the shower in the dressing room then,” she offered.

“Mmm, yes?” he said, kissing her again. “Join me?”

“I’m clean,” she answered. “Besides which, when I bathe, I like a big tub that I can lie back and relax in. Not standing in a little cubicle with it raining on me.”

They locked the stage door and walked down the back stairs to the dressing rooms. Wayne unlocked the door for them. The shower stall was exactly what Judith had described: a metal cubicle that you stood in while it rained on you. He stood under the water letting it drench his body.

“Any soap out there?” he called. Judith’s hand momentarily came through the shower curtain with a bar of soap in it. He took the soap from her, but the hand stayed in the shower stall with him. She rubbed his chest with her soapy hand, let it slide down his body to his waist, and then dart out of the shower. “Ah, you devil temptress,” he said as she left the room.

Minutes later, Wayne bolted out of the shower stall with a yell that echoed in the tiny dressing room, startling Judith almost off the chair on which she was patiently sitting.

“What in God’s name?” she asked, jumping up.

“The water just went to ice,” he exclaimed. “You didn’t turn on hot water anyplace did you?”

“Well, if you’ve already had a cold shower,” she said, “I’ll just go on home.” He looked at her as she spoke. She had on a thirties-style dressing gown, left over from Philadelphia Story. Combined with a Katherine Hepburn wig and Judith’s British accent, Wayne felt like he’d stepped straight into a movie.

The dressing room was full of costumes and make-up for 110 in the Shade that would open the next night. Racks of clothes lined the walls leading to the door into the costume storage room, a closet of immense proportions which was in a typical state of confusion. Costumes from twenty years of productions hung or lay on the floor of the closet. Wayne and Judith maneuvered themselves into this nest and closed the door behind them. She pulled away his towel and used it to dry the last drippings of water from him.

Judith spread the towel out on a pile of fluffy animal costumes and pulled Wayne down next to her. He was already hard as a rock, but she didn’t seem to mind as she caressed him. When he was lying down, she moved over him to kiss. He was lost—lost in the sensation of her lips and her skin against his.

Skin. They’d been fooling around for a month now, but that still didn’t mean they’d had sex. They’d always kept some clothes on, rubbing each other to mutual orgasm. But as Wayne let his hands drift down from her shoulders, he found only bare, sensual skin. Oh god! This is it. He restrained himself from grabbing all her naked bits, trying desperately for control—feeling her breasts pressed against his chest and following her lead as his hands found her bare ass. His erection was pressed against her stomach. She kissed him again and humped against his cock, her wet slit moistening it as she moved.

The unmistakable click of a latch and sound of a door opening brought them bolt upright tangled in arms and legs.

“Shit. Night watchman,” Wayne whispered. “I didn’t lock the door and the lights are on.” Footsteps echoed through the dressing room. They heard him moving costumes on the rack—Odd, Wayne thought. The hangers slid past one after another as if the guard was examining each one, then pushing on. Judith slid to his side and whipped a cape over their heads. Wayne grabbed nearby costumes and packed layers over them. Judith pecked mischievously at his ear as they listened to the approaching footsteps.

“I might come,” she whispered. Wayne kissed her to keep silence. He peaked through a hole in the badly worn garment as the closet door opened. What he saw, silhouetted against the light in the dressing room, however, was not the usual night watchman. He was dressed in a winter coat and gloves with a hat pulled down around eyes that almost seemed to glow. Visions of Rosemary’s Baby—a movie he’d been too shocked to walk out of—came to mind unbidden. It’s the devil, Wayne thought. The intruder shone a flashlight down the disordered racks of clothes and shook his head. He closed the door and moved toward the scene shop. Wayne knew it was locked, and couldn’t believe he heard the sound of the shop door opening. Moments later another set of footsteps echoed in the hall and once again the dressing room door opened.

“Hello? Anybody in here?” Wayne recognized the voice of the night watchman. He started to answer, but Judith clamped a hand over his mouth long enough for him to remember the state they were in. The light in the dressing room went out and the door was shut and locked. Wayne opened the closet door into the dark dressing room.

“What’s going on?” whispered Judith.

“I don’t know, but I don’t like it,” Wayne whispered back.