Sintown Chronicles II: Through Bedroom Windows (19 page)

“Your house?” he screamed as he jumped up knocking over his chair. “It ain't your fucking anything, bitch, and don't you ever forget it."

She cowered as he approached her. “Is she gonna have to go naked in the house like me?"

Eddie sneered at her. “Only if she wants to. Don't you think it's time white people were punished for making slaves out of the blacks? You're going to be her fucking slave just like you are mine. You'll do anything she tells you and pretend to like it.” He wrapped his hand in her hair and pulled painfully. “If she wants you to suck my cum out of her pussy, you'll get on your knees and start slurping. Do you understand me, bitch?"

“Okay, Eddie,” she said, afraid to nod.

He yanked her head to his stomach and pulled it backwards, stretching her neck to its extremity and placing his other hand on it menacingly. “She's not going to know anything about the Elliotts and the Dollar bitch. That's going to remain between just you and me."

“Okay, Eddie,” she gasped.

He pushed her away.

“I thought you wanted people around here to think we are respectable."

“What's your point?"

“What are they gonna think when they find out you're shacking up with Sewana?"

“Sewana is simply renting our spare room, and you're not to say different to anyone."

Greta accepted defeat and nodded her head.

“I've changed my plans about the Dollar bitch, too. Things are going too good right now. Oh, I'll still get my revenge. I'm just going to delay it a while.” His eyes glazed over as the daydream returned. The slim, naked body hung suspended from a rafter in the soundproof room. He clamped her right nipple savagely with a pair of pliers. She screamed. She begged. She pleaded.

Sandra came into the den and half sat, half crouched, on the sofa beside Tim's recliner.

Tim looked up from the magazine he was browsing and, over the blare of the television he wasn't really watching, said, “Is Junior asleep?"

“Finally,” she replied. “Can you cut that thing down?"

“Sorry,” he said as he picked up the remote control and turned down the volume. He glanced back at the magazine but was aware that she was still looking at him. “You want to talk about something?” he asked.

She reached for the control and clicked off the TV. “You weren't watching that were you?"

He shook his head. “What is it, Dudette?"

“It's Greta. She's just not working out."

Tim felt the muscles in his temple contract. “She seems okay to me,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm.

“Well, she's not."

He glanced around as if looking for dust. “The place seems clean enough to me."

“Well, it isn't. She doesn't do a thorough job. She doesn't clean the tops of door and window frames. She dusts tables without picking up the things on the table first. Every time she washes dishes, I have to redo half of them. I could go on and on."

Tim felt perspiration building at the back of his hairline. “I admit she's no Adele and Maggie is no Bobby, but they've just been with us a week. Give them a chance, Dudette."

“Maggie is fine. She's learning quickly and she's good with Junior. He really likes her. That's why I agreed to let him go with them tomorrow prospecting, or whatever they call it. I'm talking about Greta. Dude, she has to go."

Tim's nose was twitching. The more he tried to control it, the more it twitched. She forgave me for the affair with Penny Swanson, he thought. But will she forgive me for another affair? He tried to smile. “Give her a chance. I'll speak to her."

“You'll speak to her all right. The first thing Monday morning I want you to fire her. She can probably get her job back at the motel."

“You want me to fire her? You're the one who is not satisfied with her work.” Maybe, he thought, if I give Greta some money she'll keep quiet. “Sandy, I don't think you are being fair to her. You haven't liked her from the beginning."

“You're right. You talked me into hiring her over my serious objections. We made it very clear to her that we were employing her on a trial basis."

Tim stared at the ceiling. Do I tell her now and get it over with or do I wait and see if I can buy Greta's silence? “Why is it that I wear the pants in this family only when there is something disagreeable to be done?” he asked. He forced his eyes back to Sandra. Her chin was quivering, her mouth was twisted and tears were slipping from her eyes. “Dudette,” he said, “what is it?"

Her lips moved but no sound emerged.

He rushed to her side and pulled her into his arms. “What is it, baby?"

She buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed. He stroked her hair. “I don't understand why you are so emotional about it, honey, but I'll let her go first thing Monday morning. Maybe it would be better if I can catch her when she gets back from her panning for gold excursion tomorrow."

The fingers of her left hand clawed his shoulder. “I am an evil woman, Tim,” she sobbed.

“No you're not, Dudette. I don't understand what you have against Greta, but I'm sure it's not evil.” He hugged her tighter.

“I'm having an affair with her,” she blurted out.

The confession was so unexpected that he chuckled.

She sat up quickly and glared at him through teary eyes. “You think it's funny?” She snatched two tissues from a box on the table and stood up.

“I ... I don't think it's funny,” he said. He groped for the right words. “You caught me by surprise. I would never have thought..."

“That I am a lesbian?” She blew her nose noisily.

He had never felt so ill prepared for a conversation in his life. He stood up and moved towards her, but she backed away. “There's nothing wrong with being a lesbian,” he said. He smiled faintly. “But you ain't one, Dudette. I'm living proof of that."

“Then maybe I swing both ways."

He shrugged his shoulders. “That's okay with me, but it seems to be tearing you up."

She turned her back to him.

He didn't know what to say. “I don't guess you want to talk about it?"

She turned her head and looked at him a moment. “What must you think of me?"

“Sandy, you are always surprising me. I love you, Dudette."

“And I did forgive you for your fling with Penny Swanson."

He nodded. “This is different. I don't see your interest in Greta as any threat to me, or our marriage for that matter. I suppose we need to rethink some things, but..."

“I don't know if I can explain, but I'd like to try."

Suddenly he wasn't certain he wanted to hear her story. “Maybe it would be easier ... more helpful to you ... if you talked to a professional. Would you like for me to call the preacher?"

“Oh, hell no,” she said. “I'll ... I'll be right back."

He paced back and forth in front of the rock fireplace. His breath was coming in short, rapid gasps. His hands were trembling. He stood in front of their videocassette rack, pulled three tapes out of the top row, reached in and extracted a pack of cigarettes and a book of matches.

She returned carrying two cans of diet cola just as he exhaled the first satisfying stream of gray smoke. “You're smoking again?” she asked.

“I never quit,” he said. He turned to the fireplace. “I've been sneaking behind your back. I'll put it out."

“No. Let me have one."

Her hand was trembling as she placed the cigarette to her lips. His hand trembled as he raised the lighted match for her to use.

“Where did I hide the ash trays?” she muttered to herself. “This candy dish will do,” she said as she dumped the chocolates on the table. She placed the dish on the coffee table beside the cigarette pack and matches, sat on the sofa and patted the cushion beside her.

Tim took the offered seat and looked into her somber eyes expectantly.

“Once a slut, always a slut,” she began.

“Everybody makes mistakes sometimes, Dudette, and we haven't yet determined that you've done anything wrong."

“Oh, I've done something wrong, all right,” she said, trying to laugh. “How can I explain this?"

“Why don't you, just this once, trust my intelligence. Just tell me what happened."

“Everything?"

He nodded, feeling a bit of excitement building somewhere inside him.

“Wednesday was a rough day for me,” she said as she exhaled cigarette smoke. “To cap it off, Leora Borders came by here and accused me of having a sexual relationship with that damned John Baxter."

“I haven't thought of him for years.” Tim stubbed out his cigarette. “How did Leora find out about him?"

“She doesn't know what actually happened. She's researching her damned church history and is trying to find out why Baxter left town so suddenly. Someone she's talked to knows I was somehow involved, but not the real story."

“What did you do?"

“I told her it was not true and got rid of her. I was so upset I drank a couple of beers, crawled into the Whirl Pool and tried to relax."

Tim nodded. She had his undivided attention. He remembered that Leora left shortly after he had sex with Greta on Wednesday.

“Maybe I shouldn't have drunk those beers after taking a double dose of Alka-Seltzer Plus. Anyway, I was just beginning to feel a little buzz when Greta came bursting into the bathroom with her bucket and rags. I didn't know what to do. She looked as embarrassed as I was and said she'd come back later, but damn it, Tim, she kept her eyes glued to my crotch. She said something about me looking tense and how she was once a masseuse. Before I knew it she was on her knees working on my back."

Tim watched as Sandra reached for another tissue.

“It felt so good, Tim. She knew what she was doing. I could feel the muscles relax."

“Hey, I love massages. Do you suppose she would do me?"

She glared at him and blew her nose.

“Sorry,” he said. “Just trying to lighten things up a little."

“The next thing I knew, she was in the tub behind me."

“With her clothes on?"

“No. She took them off. It only took a second. She wasn't wearing any underclothes."

Tim tried not to smile as he remembered.

“Tim, she worked down my back all the way to my anus. I should have stopped her right then, but it felt so damned good. In a few minutes, she pulled my back against those soft breasts of hers and her hands were on my chest. She told me how pretty my tits were and how good the nipples felt in her hands. I tried to stop her then, Tim. I swear to God I did, but when I started to speak she twisted around and filled my mouth with her tongue while her fingers roamed to my clit and I lost it."

Tim twisted uncomfortably.

“Damn you Tim Dollar. You have an erection."

“You're damn right I have an erection and I'm not going to apologize for it. You write that scene in one of your books and you'll have men all over this country jerking off."

“Men find sex between women stimulating?"

“Hell yes,” he said. “At least this man does. Look, Dudette, it just happened and you were drunk at the time anyway. Quit beating yourself up over it."

“I wasn't drunk yesterday."

“Uh, oh. It happened again?"

She was no longer crying when she nodded. “I avoided her all day Thursday. Friday I told her there would be no more sex but I would like a massage. Hell, Tim, I did want sex. I stripped her, for God's sake, as well as myself. Your tongue has been inside me many times, and I love it, but your's is nothing like that talented tongue of Greta's."

“So if we get rid of Greta, it'll all be over? I don't think so. Of all people, you ought to have thought of blackmail. If her husband hears about it, you can be damn sure he'll blackmail you. I don't trust that bastard as far as I can throw a piano."

Sandra looked at him helplessly. “I'm no damned good,” she said. “I'm evil. I'm not a fit wife for you. I'm not a fit mother for Tim Junior."

He pulled her close and again caressed her hair. “We have to do the best we can, Sandy. We have to accept who we are and what we are. I can't let you suffer like this without knowing."

“Without knowing what?"

“You left out a detail about Greta. She has her pubic hair shaved."

“How do you know that?"

“I also found out on Wednesday that Greta wears no underwear when I screwed her doggie style in my study. My semen must have been still in her when she masturbated you."

Sandra stormed out of the room. Tim followed cautiously and caught up with her in the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and tossed a beer in his direction before popping the top on one for herself. “First there was the Swanson girl and now Greta. You'll drop your pants for any slit tail who shakes her tits at you."

“Now wait a damn minute,” he said defensively. “It seems to me you just got through telling me of a little extra-curricular activity on your own part."

She walked to the sink and stared out the window. “Why am I not enough for you, Tim? Is it my boobs?"

He pushed himself against her buttocks and cupped her breasts. “You know I adore your boobs."

“That's what you say, but both Greta Crow and that redheaded Penny Swanson have huge tits."

“I never saw Greta's breasts,” he said. He tried to slip his hands inside her shirt but she pulled away.

“Not now, Tim."

“Dudette,” he said. “I need a cigarette. I'll be right back."

She sank into a kitchen chair and pointed, “Top shelf over the stove—behind the coffee can."

He found the half-empty pack and grinned. “You never quit either, did you?"

“Tim, after I found out about you and Penny Swanson you swore you'd never do it again."

“And I meant it at the time, but when I saw that bruised ass of Greta's bending over my desk, I just lost it, to use your expression."

“Is that what turned you on?” she asked, turning to face him.

“Yeah, it was."

“You screwed her while fantasizing about beating her?"

“No, damn it. Well, maybe. I don't know."

She jumped up, pushed down her pants and panties in one motion and bent over the table. “Take your belt off and whip me,” she demanded.

“No way."

“Do it, damn it."

“I won't. What's gotten into you?"