Honeymoon for Three (27 page)

This time Penny lay on her back. She took
Alfred’s hand and placed it on her belly. He lay on his side,
facing her.

“You like navels, don’t you, Alfred? Here,
you can play with mine.”

Whatever happened wasn’t going to happen in
the dark where Alfred could hide from the truth of it. Or pretend
he was normal when he wasn’t. To make it even more real, Penny
decided she was going to report a play-by-play of the action. Out
loud. And she was willing to give in to him to some extent if that
would help to keep him out of her pants.

“Do you like my navel?”

Alfred continued to feel her navel. He
grunted something that sounded like an affirmative.

“What do you like about my navel?” Make him
face his secrets.

“It’s an innie.”

“An innie? Oh, I know what you mean. What’s
yours?”

He didn’t answer. She turned her head and
looked into his eyes, inches away. He looked stricken. She took her
right hand and ran it lightly down his shirt to the hem. She pulled
the shirt up so she could reach his bare skin. His skin gave way
under her touch like a partially inflated balloon. It wasn’t firm,
like Gary’s. She could feel his body tremble.

She found his navel. She swore that it
withdrew when she first touched it, like a girl the first time a
boy touches her breast. She persisted and placed her fingers
squarely on it. It protruded slightly. Is that what he didn’t like
about it? She began to caress it.

“You don’t like your navel, do you?”

“No.”

“Well, I like it. I think it’s an
outstanding navel.”

Oops. Wrong choice of word. But Alfred
didn’t take offense at her language, and he seemed to like having
his navel rubbed. He began to move his stomach against her fingers.
He continued to rub her navel. So far so good. Penny thought about
one way she put Gary to sleep when she had her period. Maybe the
same thing would work with Alfred. She was willing to go that
far.

She moved her hand down to the waistband of
his shorts, intending to slide it underneath the elastic. His hand
grabbed hers and stopped it cold. This was a real surprise to her.
Men liked hand jobs. Or at least most men did. She regrouped and
moved her hand back to his navel. He relaxed. One thing she noticed
was that he smelled clean. He had taken a shower recently. His
shirt was clean, too. It made her job easier.

This couldn’t go on all night. With sex
there’s a climax and a definite ending. Where was the climax to
navel rubbing? Penny got up on her elbow and rolled Alfred over
onto his back. He looked surprised, but he didn’t resist. She
shifted her body around so that she could place her mouth on his
navel.

She began to flick her tongue against his
navel. At first she thought she would be grossed out, but it wasn’t
so bad. It was only a navel, after all. He reacted to her
ministrations. He started moaning softly. After a couple of minutes
of this, she placed her hand on his shorts, hoping to speed up the
process.

She was shocked to find that he was flaccid.
She jerked her hand away before he could react to what she was
doing. No wonder he had restrained her previously. He was with a
sexy young woman—as she thought of herself—and he couldn’t get it
up.

Something was definitely wrong with one of
them, and past experience told her she wasn’t the one with the
problem. However, her activity seemed to be producing some kind of
a cumulative effect on Alfred. His panting grew louder and faster.
Finally he had what could only be described as a climax, with deep
moans and muscle spasms in his stomach, although Penny couldn’t
have given a physiological explanation for what actually
happened.

She lay on her back, hoping that her job was
done. Alfred rolled onto his side and placed his hand on her navel.
His movements were lethargic. Within three minutes, he was snoring.
It had worked. She felt relieved.

Now was her chance to get away. Since his
hand was resting on her stomach, she didn’t move for another five
minutes, hoping that he would fall into a deep sleep. Then she
cautiously started to inch away from him. He groaned and closed his
fingers on the flesh of her stomach. Damn. She stopped moving, and
his hand relaxed.

Another ten minutes went by. She tried
again. He reacted the same way. This was going to be harder than
she thought. She would wait another ten minutes. She found herself
drifting off. She was exhausted. She tried to focus on escaping,
but she felt strangely languid. The events of the day and evening
had tired her out. The last thought she had was that she should try
moving again.

CHAPTER 29

If he hadn’t parked near the entrance to one
of the campgrounds he had been searching and slept for several
hours in the VW, Gary was certain he would have driven off the road
and wrecked the car and himself. He was weaving back and forth
before he stopped and had completely lost his concentration. He
argued with himself about whether he would be deserting Penny by
stopping but came to the conclusion that killing himself would be a
much worse form of desertion.

His search had been fruitless. Barring the
possibility that he had missed finding the campsite of Penny and
Alfred, a possibility that nagged him continually, they hadn’t
stopped at a campground north of Bodega Bay. Perhaps Alfred had
driven straight to Los Angeles on Route 101. If so, how could he
stay awake? He certainly couldn’t trust Penny to drive. In fact, he
would have to keep her restrained at all times, because she would
not be a passive captive. Her students called her Miss Tiger with
good reason.

They might have stayed at a campground along
101 instead of 1, or in a cheap motel, or…? Or simply gone beyond
Bodega Bay before stopping. There were too many possibilities. How
did he ever think he could find them? He had been looking for a
couple of minnows in the ocean. Searching had helped to lift his
spirits for awhile, but as he became more and more tired, he became
more and more depressed.

The rising sun woke Gary. He drove the few
miles to Bodega Bay and pulled into the parking lot of a café
advertising breakfast, determined to call the Highway Patrol,
refuel himself and the car, and rethink his plan. He hoped the
police were having better luck than he was. If not, he couldn’t
bear to think of the consequences.

***

The first thing Alfred saw when he opened
his eyes was the profile of Penny’s head a few inches from him. He
couldn’t think of a more beautiful sight with which to greet the
day. He would like to draw her, but he couldn’t do that at the
moment. There would be plenty of time to draw pictures of Penny in
the years to come.

He remembered how wonderful Penny had been
last night—and how understanding. This was even better than his
dream of their lives together. Now he was convinced he had done the
right thing. She had been so good to him that he must be winning
her over.

With a light heart he got out of bed,
careful not to wake her, put on his clothes, and went outside to
light the stove for coffee and breakfast. This was one of the
happiest mornings of his life.

***

The sound of the sliding door opening woke
Penny. She lay still with her eyes closed, listening to the sounds
of Alfred getting the stove and food out of the camper, not wanting
to see her surroundings. When the noises faded, she opened her eyes
out of necessity.

The first thing she saw was the raised roof
of the camper over her head. The camper was her prison and the
reality of that came to her. She wasn’t free to leave the camper,
or at least go very far from it, while Alfred was awake. She had
blown any chance she had of escaping last night. She couldn’t let
that happen again.

In addition, she had a bad taste in her
mouth. It was partly from not brushing her teeth last night. But it
was more than that. The memories of what had happened in this bed
came rushing back. She had always considered herself a moral
person, a step above some other people she knew. Last night’s
events had disproved that.

She had done things no good girl would do.
It’s true that she and Alfred hadn’t technically had sex, but
whores didn’t always have sex with their clients either. They
fulfilled their clients’ needs in return for compensation. That’s
exactly what she had done—fulfilled Alfred’s needs in return for
him not doing something worse to her. She was no better than a
whore. If the situation arose again, she knew she would do the same
thing.

As much as she wanted to close her eyes and
make the present go away, she couldn’t do it. She had to escape;
she had to get back to Gary. He must be out of his mind with fear
and frustration. She couldn’t worry about her lost virtue. She
would have a lifetime to do that. She got out of bed and pulled on
her slacks and sweater, wishing she had some deodorant at least, to
give herself a goat bath, as they called it in college. Well, she
would dab some of the cold water from the camper’s tank under her
arms. A comb would be nice, too. Then again, maybe she wouldn’t do
these things. Why should she try to look and smell good for
Alfred?

***

Gary made his decision. The layout of Bodega
Bay helped him. Route 1 was the main street through town. It was
narrow, with sharp turns. Traffic moved slowly. If Penny and Alfred
had stopped somewhere for the night north of here on Route 1, they
would come through this bottleneck.

He found a good location at a right-angle
turn to the left. He could watch each vehicle as it approached, and
see the driver and front-seat passenger. He would look at the
driver first, since Alfred might have Penny stashed in the
backseat.

He parked his car a hundred feet away where
the road had a shoulder, so that he could retrieve it and give
chase in a minimum amount of time. He had called the Highway
Patrol. They hadn’t come up with any leads. Alfred hadn’t shown up
in Lomita, although it was probably too early for that to happen,
even if he had driven most of the night. He hadn’t been spotted
anywhere else, either.

Gary couldn’t think of anything better to do
than wait for Penny and Alfred to pass. If this didn’t work, he
didn’t know what he would do next. He had to find Penny. His life
would be meaningless without her.

He took up his position, leaning against a
guardrail designed to keep a driver who tried to navigate the curve
too fast from ending up on the rocks in the bay behind him. He
practiced looking through the windshield of each car that came by.
It would work as long as his concentration didn’t waiver. He had to
stand, which was a good thing. He would never get too
comfortable.

If he spotted Penny or Alfred, he would try
to get the license plate number of the vehicle. If he turned and
looked at the rear of the vehicle after it passed him it should be
going slowly enough so that he could read the plate. He practiced
doing this when traffic was light. He had a pad and pencil
available to write the information down. He had a thermos of coffee
to help keep him awake, but he would drink it sparingly, because he
wouldn’t move from this spot, even if he had to go to the
bathroom.

CHAPTER 30

In contrast to her somber mood, Penny
noticed that Alfred acted as if he were feeling very lighthearted
this morning. He asked her how she had slept and solicitously
examined the cut in her head. It became obvious to her as they ate
breakfast that in her depravity she had done exactly what he wanted
last night. She should use that to her advantage. Maybe she could
get him to trust her more. She forced herself to smile at him and
pretend to be happy. It was difficult, but it might help buy her
freedom.

They repacked the stove and dishes in the
camper and were ready to leave. Penny climbed into the passenger
seat. When she saw Alfred pick up the roll of duct tape, she said,
“Is that really necessary?” in her sweetest voice.

He hesitated, looking at her. She could
almost see the wheels spinning in his brain. She held his eyes,
trying to look her most seductive and most innocent at the same
time. Promising bellybutton blow jobs and strict obedience. Finally
he looked away and threw the tape into the storage cabinet.

Alfred sat in the driver’s seat, inserted
the key into the ignition, and gave it a twist. There was no
answering response from the starter. He tried again. Same
result.

“The battery’s dead.” Alfred hit the
steering wheel with his hand in frustration.

Penny didn’t know whether this was good news
or bad news. The reason for it came to her.

“We left the dome light on last night.”

Alfred looked blank for a moment. He peered
back at the offending light. He had obviously forgotten all about
it. He got up and switched it off. He returned to his seat and
tried the starter again. Nothing happened. He slumped over the
steering wheel, at a loss as to what to do.

Penny knew what to do. She and Gary had been
on one of their pre-honeymoon trips when they hadn’t been able to
start the Beetle. They had both pushed it, and when its speed hit
five miles per hour, Gary jumped into the driver’s seat with the
ignition on and put it in gear. When he disengaged the clutch, it
started. The camper had the same kind of transmission. The only
problem was that it was a lot heavier, and they were parked on an
uneven surface.

She debated whether to tell Alfred what to
do. Was she better off with or without the camper? It was several
miles to Route 1. She could certainly walk that distance—she had
proved that—but would Alfred let her do it? She couldn’t outrun
him. He might decide he couldn’t risk having her on foot and kill
her here.

“It’s got a manual transmission. We can
push-start it.”

“We can?”

Penny explained how she and Gary had started
the Beetle. Then she and Alfred got out of the camper and surveyed
the area. Even if they could move the camper with a push, it would
be impossible for them to get it up to five miles-per-hour on the
rough terrain. Penny saw that the only possibility was to push it
back to the road, a distance of some thirty feet. The road sloped
downhill toward the ocean.