Sintown Chronicles I: Behind Closed Doors (58 page)

“Maybe. But I love you now."

“And so do I, Betty,” Rita added. “Tell us about it."

Between sobs, Betty related the details of her visit with Dr. McGee.

“Then you don't know for sure that you are HIV positive?"

“The second test result is supposed come be back tomorrow."

“Then let's don't panic until tomorrow,” Rita said as calmly as she could manage.

“We're all scared, Betty. There's no sense in pretending otherwise. But if you are HIV positive, where would you have picked up the virus?” Bo asked.

“The only person I can think of is Max Holder,” Betty confessed.

“But you told me you didn't have sex with Max,” Bo said with unintended fury building in his voice.

Before Betty could respond Rita gave her a quick look and said, “If Max had the virus it could have come through me to Betty. Let's just put everything on hold until we hear from Dr. McGee tomorrow."

“How's your bottom?” Carl asked as he helped carry empty dinner dishes to the kitchen sink.

“Hurts like hell,” Sarasue replied. “Didn't you notice me sitting on a cushion?"

“Yeah, I noticed."

“How about working on some other part of my anatomy tonight?"

“Yeah. Hey, the world won't come to an end if we skip a night or two."

“I have a novel idea,” Sarasue said trying to sound lighthearted. “Why don't we try conventional sex tonight. You know, we kiss and stroke each other and imitate missionaries."

“That would be different,” he laughed. “Here's the plan. I'll take my bath while you wash the dishes. We'll meet in the bedroom for a night of unbridled conventional passion."

Only one bedside lamp was burning when Carl, nude and still damp, entered the bedroom. He smiled at Sarasue who lay on her back, completely nude.

“I have something for you,” she cooed as she fingered her erect nipples.

He snapped on the overhead light.

“What the hell..."

“Turn over,” he said as he sat beside her.

“I don't think you really want to see that,” she protested.

He pushed her over on her stomach and stared in horror at the damage his belt caused the previous night. Gently he touched the few areas of her buttocks not showing heavy bruises and swelling.

“If you've got to spank me, I can take it,” she said reaching for him. “Damn, Carl,” she exclaimed. “That's the first time I've ever touched you when you weren't hard."

Tenderly he kissed her battered bottom, and then began massaging her shoulders as she usually massaged his. “Sarasue, I've been thinking."

“I knew it was too good to last."

“I wish you'd stop trying to put words in my mouth."

“Sorry."

“Sarasue,” he started again. “I like everything about you. You have a great body and know how to use it. You're the best damned cook around and I certainly do like having a hot breakfast every morning when I get up."

“But?"

“But I don't like hurting you, even if you do get pleasure out of it. I read sadistic stories in my teens and they always turned me on, so when you suggested it I thought it would be great fun. It isn't. Once I get started, I just can't quit, like last night. Then I really feel terrible. I'm just not going to do it anymore."

Very carefully she turned over on her back and drew his hands to her breasts, pretending they were not still sore from the abuse he inflicted every night since their relationship began.

“I know this is your thing,” he continued softly, “and there's nothing wrong with it in my book. I just can't participate anymore. Besides, you wanted to be on the giving end once in a while and I never allowed you to do that. You'll meet somebody who'll..."

“Hush a minute,” she said. “After my husband died, I started talking trash with different people on the Internet. There was one guy I met who began sharing his fantasies with me by e-mail. I started making up stuff to send back to him. I don't know who made up the first sadomasochistic message, but once we started there seemed to be no end. The tales grew wilder and wilder. Somewhere along the line, I convinced myself that I would actually enjoy it. You're the first one I ever tried it with. Guess what?"

“You don't like it either?” he asked, surprised.

“Anybody who thinks orgasms are more intense when the body is wracked with pain has a bunch of screws that need tightening if you ask me,” she laughed.

“Well I'll be damned.” He kissed each of her nipples.

“It's back,” she giggled, groping between his muscular legs.

“Is there any way we can do it tonight without hurting you?” he asked.

“Let me on top,” she grinned, “but go easy on the boobs."

She impaled herself and he contented himself with stroking her thighs.

“You know why I spend so much time working on the house next to Rita Holder's?” he mused.

“So you can see me more often?"

“Well, yes, but that's not all. That's my house we're building and it should be ready to move into in a couple of weeks."

“Hmm,” she replied.

“I was just thinking. Would you be interested in being my live-in housekeeper?"

“Yessss,” she cried.

He wasn't sure if she answered his question, experienced an orgasm, or both, but he managed to blurt out, “Greaaat."

Big Willie pulled off his muddy brogans and left them on the back porch. Louise was fussy about getting their new carpet dirty. “Where you is, you pretty thing?” he called out.

“In the kitchen."

He stared at her through the kitchen door.

“What do you think?” she tossed over her shoulder.

She was standing at the kitchen sink, propped against a tall stool, washing dishes. The walker was beside her, but the wheelchair was not in sight.

“I found that I can prop my butt on this stool and stand up to do the dishes,” she explained.

He hugged her from the side and planted a noisy smooch on her cheek. “Where's the wheelchair?"

“It's in the bedroom. I haven't used it all morning. Get the baked ham out of the refrigerator. I thought we'd just make sandwiches for lunch today."

“That McGee woman is not just a doctor. She's a miracle worker,” Big Willie exclaimed, setting the ham and mustard on the table and reaching for a loaf of bread.

“We have a different theory,” Louise replied, gripping the walker tightly and shuffling to the kitchen table. She waved Big Willie away when he tried to assist her. “Willie, please. I'd rather do it myself."

“I don't want you to fall."

“I have fallen—many times—and I'll fall many more times before I master this thing.” The concern on his face touched her. “Quit worrying, Big Man. I always get back up."

“What's your theory?” he asked, spreading a generous glob of mustard on a slice of bread.

“Dr. McGee says a woman with a spinal injury like mine is not supposed to enjoy sex anymore. I didn't know that, so I went right on enjoying it. Dr. McGee thinks my body found new muscles to use so I wouldn't just lay there like a plastic doll, and the more I used those muscles the stronger they got.” She laughed at the incredulous stare he was giving her. “Now if I could just think of some way to use my feet during sex, maybe I could actually learn to walk again."

He grinned sheepishly. “Some folks might call it kinky, but I can think of a way."

“You have time for a quickie before going back to work?” she asked.

“No, Vic. I'm not going to put that thing in my mouth. That's repulsive."

“Susan, honey, just kiss it a little. I'll kiss yours if you'll let me take your panties off."

“Not now and not ever. You'll get germs."

“I'll risk it,” he said eagerly.

She sat up and looked at him sternly. “I've tried to be responsive to your needs, Victor Kimel. Ever since I accepted your ring I've let you undress me except for my panties and I've used my hand on you. But if you don't back off, you've seen my breasts for the last time until our wedding night.” She jumped off the bed and put on her white robe.

He rolled over. “You took your panties off too that first night."

“That was a special occasion,” she said.

“Speaking of breasts, honey, if you squeeze them together just right you can use them on me just like you use your hand."

“Victor Kimel, you're impossible.” She stalked out of the room.

He followed as soon as he put on his pants and caught up with her in the living room. “Speaking of wedding nights, we ought to let the Dollars know if we want have the ceremony during their Christmas Eve party."

“Vic, for the last time, we are not ready to get married yet. Maybe next Christmas, but not this year. How many times do I have to tell you?"

“You can't blame a guy for trying,” he muttered.

Jan was sitting at Jake's desk when he entered the den. He kissed her lightly on the nape of her neck.

“Oh!” she exclaimed whirling the desk chair around, “I didn't hear you come in."

“Who could with all that banging going on outside.” He kissed her quickly on the lips and briefly fondled her breasts.

“It's going to be worth it, Jake. The new roof looks good and the siding they are putting up is beautiful.” She grasped his buttocks and pulled him to her.

“Installing all new windows won't hurt, either,” he commented, stroking her hair, “but if you think the work outside is disconcerting, wait until they start remodeling inside."

“Don't keep me in suspense, Jake. How'd it go?"

“Just as you said,” Jake replied. “Dr. McGee is a nice person and apparently a competent doctor. She took blood and urine samples, listened to my heart and lungs, beat on my knees with her little hammer, put on a rubber glove, applied Vaseline and rammed her finger up my butt. I thought I'd be embarrassed to have a woman doctor do that, but she put me at ease and I managed to get through it."

“You did tell her about your erectile dysfunction,” she said, pressing her nose to the crotch of his slacks.

“No."

“Jake, damn it. You promised.” She dug her fingernails into his buttocks.

“I told her I have a long standing problem with impotence. If I said ‘erectile dysfunction,’ she would have known I was the man you were talking with her about."

“You old fart,” Jan chuckled, “she's not stupid. She sees us together at the diner every night."

“Yeah, well, let's just say I left a shadow of doubt in her mind."

“You've told me what she did, but you haven't told me what she said."

“Same old crap. I have an enlarged prostate, but that is normal for a man my age. Its size is not sufficient to be the cause of impotence. Other than my blood pressure being a little high, I seem to be in good health and, unless something unexpected shows up in the blood or urine tests, there is no physical cause of my problem."

“Did she offer any advice?"

“She gave me the same lecture she must have given you. She says I'm crazy and need to see a psychiatrist.” He pulled away from her and walked to the window, pretending to watch the workmen.

“Jake, she didn't say that."

“Not in those exact words, but that's what she meant."

“What exactly did she say?"

He sat heavily on a rickety straight-backed chair beside the desk and stretched out his legs. “She offered to make an appointment for me with a mental healthcare professional. I guess that's what they're calling shrinks these days."

“And?"

“I told her to go to hell. I'm not crazy. Nobody in my family has ever been insane. Jan, she's just like all the rest. She doesn't know how to fix my problem, so she says it's all my fault."

“I can't believe you said that."

“Well, it's the truth. Dr. McGee looked stunned—said I was living in the dark ages. She gave me a pamphlet on mental health."

“Did you read it?"

“I tossed it in the trash on my way out."

“Did you ask her about Viagra?"

Jake nodded. “She's not a fan of the sex pill. She claims that although my blood pressure is not dangerously high, using Viagra could be fatal."

The rusted casters creaked as Jan scooted the desk chair closer to him. Putting a hand on his knee she said, “I like you just the way you are, but you don't like yourself. Maybe something will turn up with the blood and urine samples."

“Don't hold your breath,” he said sarcastically. “Would you believe it? When I refused to see a psychiatrist she changed her mind and decided I needed to get religion."

Her head shot up. “No, I don't believe it."

He nodded. “Yep. She said her husband, Mack McGee, used to be a counselor in the Department of Pastoral Care at the North Carolina Baptist Hospital in Winston-Salem before becoming the pastor of the Dot Baptist Church. She thought maybe he could help me."

“Are you going to talk with him?"

“What's he going to do? Grab me by the shoulders, shake the crap out of me and shout ‘HEAL'?"

They both laughed.

“How's your leg?”

She lifted her foot for him to see and slipped back the left leg of her jeans. “It still looks ugly—all red and splotchy—but it hasn't hurt for over a week now."

“What were you looking at?” he asked, glancing at the desktop.

She rolled the chair back to the center of the desk while explaining, “I came in here this morning to straighten up a little and became interested in your stamp collection. I guess this book I have open is your foreign collection."

“Philatelists call it a world collection, and that's just one of ten volumes. The thing just keeps growing. My United States collection is over there,” he said motioning towards a bookcase with his head.

Following his eyes she asked, “What are all those albums marked ‘Greedy'?"

He laughed. “One problem collectors have is finding a way to make use of all the duplicate stamps they come up with. Some trade their duplicates with other collectors, some try to sell them, some give them away. I keep every stamp I can get my hands on and display them in my Greedy Albums."

“You have boxes and boxes of loose stamps stacked up in the corner."

“Yeah, those are stamps I have taken off my mail, scavenged from trashcans or bought through mail-order. I just haven't gotten around to identifying and cataloging them yet."