Sintown Chronicles I: Behind Closed Doors (62 page)

“What did you do?” she asked breathlessly.

“Well, I couldn't take advantage of you in the traditional way, but I believe I might have if I'd been able. I buried my nose in your crotch and inhaled deeply. Jan, if you could bottle that aroma you'd become a millionaire overnight. I started removing the wine with my tongue—first your lips, then your chin, down your lovely long neck, through the valley of the gods—hell, I lapped away at your breasts and nipples even though I knew there was no wine on them. I traced the path down your tummy and sucked far longer than necessary on your belly button."

“Oh, God,” she cried as she pressed her thighs closely together and doubled over.

“Baby, what's wrong?” He clutched her quivering body to him and held on tight. She was laughing and crying at the same time.

“Give me a second,” she gasped.

“I'll carry you back to the house and call Dr. McGee."

“No,” she giggled, shaking her head against his chest. She willed herself to relax. She reached for his head and pulled his lips to hers, driving her tongue deep inside his surprised mouth. “You taste like toothpaste,” she said.

“Sorry,” he replied with a look of total confusion on his face.

“It tastes good,” she said, gently resting her head on his shoulder.

He could feel little tremors erupting in her body. “You okay?"

She pushed away and looked in his silver eyes. “Never better.” She glanced to her left. “Come on, that gravel driveway you were talking about is just ahead."

As they resumed walking, he asked, “Jan, what happened back there?"

“Nothing much—just the most intense orgasm of my life."

“You're kidding."

She shook her head. “Surely you know you're not the only man I've ever been sexually involved with, and with one or two of them I could sometimes climax just by having my body stroked, like I do with you. But I'll be damned if I ever thought that just listening to a man talk could rocket me to the moon."

She intertwined her fingers with his and silently they proceeded to the graveled driveway.

“Want to stop and rest a little?” he asked.

“I'm fine. Let's go on.”

“Jan, I don't want to know about the other guys you've been with, but you've never told me anything about your past. How did you wind up in Dot?"

“Jake, sometimes I think my life began after I arrived in Dot and met you."

“What a nice thing to say, but you're avoiding my question."

“I know, and someday I'll tell you my story. What about you? What led you to this one horse town?"

“Well, you know about Mary."

She nodded.

“After I managed to get the business started I developed an interest in advertising on the Internet. I saw an ad in a magazine for the Dollar Internet Services, gave them a call, and came down for an appointment. I liked the guy who runs it, a youngster by the name of Sean Taylor. We mapped out a plan and I signed a contract with him. On my way out I saw a ‘house for sale’ sign at the corner of Highway 13 and Schoolhouse Road. I looked the place over and figured one day I might fix it up. As far as my business is concerned, it doesn't matter where I hang my hat and I thought it might be convenient to live near my Internet provider."

“Look,” she said, pointing, “there's an old shack that looks like yours."

“Our place won't look like that when Carl Elliott and his crew get their work completed."

Jan noticed his use of the word ‘our’ but decided this was not the time to pursue it. “There's smoke coming out of the chimney. Must be somebody living there."

He took her by the arm and turned her around. “Let's not bother them."

She saw that his sweatshirt was soaked with perspiration. “Maybe we'd better rest a minute. You're sweating like a horse."

“That's what exercise is supposed to do for you."

“That's water weight. It'll come right back the next time you drink a Pepsi."

“Let's head on back."

“Okay, but slow down. I'm having difficulty keeping up with you."

“Wino,” he said, grinning down at her, “I want to ask a couple of questions and I want honest answers, even if you think the answers may hurt my feelings."

She felt her heart rate speed up. “I'll try."

“You're a smart cookie, Jan. You learned the business in a hurry. If something should happen to me, you could keep it going without missing a beat."

“Don't even talk like that, Jake."

“I meant it as a compliment. Now for the first question. You mastered the computer programs in a hurry and you seem to enjoy the data entry and bookkeeping. Am I right?"

“Yes, you are. Of course, you know I was already computer literate when you met me. We used computers extensively at the Holder Advertising Agency."

He nodded. “It also seems to me that filling orders bores you to death."

“Is it that obvious?"

He nodded. “I enjoy it. I get a sense of accomplishment with every order I process. Here's my proposal. I'll do all the order processing and you do all the computer work and bookkeeping."

“All the bookkeeping, including paying bills?"

“Sure. We just need to add your name to the bank account and sign a new signature card."

“I'm not sure that's such a good idea. Why don't I just print out the checks and you sign them?"

He stopped and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Jan, I wasn't born yesterday. You won't tell me about your past. I don't have any idea who you really are. I know you may just be playing me for an old fool. You may be far more interested in my money than in me. I choose to believe you are not a gold digger. I'll find out, one way or the other, sooner or later. Sooner is better."

“You bastard,” she snarled. She broke away from him and jogged ahead.

She was in the shower when he reached the house. Although the water was splashing off her body she heard him come into the bathroom, saw his distorted image through the shower curtain as he removed his clothes, and recognized the sound when he stepped on the scale.

“I don't believe it,” he muttered. “I gained a pound."

Jan stifled a snicker and tried to look indignant when he parted the curtain and joined her. She turned her back to him.

“I'm sorry I made you angry,” he said as he soaped up, “but I'm not sorry for what I said. I didn't accuse you of anything. I've told you all there is to tell about me. I'll try to accept your notion of having come into existence after meeting me, but it's a stretch. I've offered you my trust. Will you accept my proposal?"

“Your financial affairs are none of my business,” she grumbled.

“I think of them as our financial affairs and I think they are your business."

“I'll keep the damn books if..."

The sound of a ripsaw drowned out her words. They both laughed. Carl Elliott's crew had arrived. She turned and kissed his soapy nipple.

“If what?"

“If you'll shave my legs."

“What?"

“You want to hear about my past? Here goes. I started shaving my legs when I was about fourteen. Ever since I've had a fantasy of a handsome man doing it for me."

“I might cut you."

“I'll scream."

“And bleed,” he said as he cupped her breasts.

“I want you to shave me from my navel to my ankles."

“You want me to shave your..."

She interrupted with a gentle kiss.

“Won't that be uncomfortable?"

“When it starts growing out, but not if you shave me every day."

Time continued to pass rapidly and Jan often found the date in the newspaper difficult to believe. She and Jake had quickly established a routine of getting up at dawn and pushing through each day until they could push no longer, at which time they fell into bed, exhausted. They did reserve two treats for themselves each day. They ate supper at Dot's Diner each evening and spent at least an hour playing with the stamp collection.

While Jake continued to identify, record, and value each stamp and place it into the appropriate album, Jan became a master at soaking, drying and pressing stamps. She also learned to separate the stamp mixtures into countries, a handful at a time. It was not as easy as it first appeared, for some of the stamps had country names in foreign languages, some had no country names at all, and some of the little pieces of art that looked like stamps weren't stamps at all. Jake called them Cinderellas.

The sometimes earsplitting noise of ripsaws, and the hammering and banging that went on while a new roof was being applied, siding placed on the house, a new porch built and new windows installed was minor compared to the inconvenience once the workmen moved indoors. Of necessity, Jake and Jan threw out the sparse living room furnishings, except for the television set. Inside remodeling started there. Once the remodeling of the living room was complete, they moved the contents of the study into it while the carpenters worked in that room. When the study was completed, it served as a bedroom until the carpenters finished the bedroom and bath. The purchase of a truckload of new furniture concluded the process. Jake knew he couldn't have done it without her—wouldn't have done it without her.

As far as Jan was concerned, the sex was outstanding. Throughout each day, there was tenderness, caresses and gentle kisses that heretofore were not a part of her sexual life. Except for a vibrator, the sex toys purchased through the Internet remained in original boxes in the trunk of Jake's car, unused. Jake, of course, was too stubborn to schedule an appointment with Mack McGee to seek help with his penile dysfunction, but at least he did not seem to dwell on the difficulty as much.

Jan was surprised to hear that Betty and Bo separated, but was not surprised that Betty immediately moved in with Rita Holder. Initially, when thinking of Rita, Betty and/or Bo, Jan was filled with rage and thoughts of revenge, but since meeting Jake, all of the past became just an unpleasant memory, on which she tried not to dwell.

Yet, she couldn't help but think about it. Jake seemed to think she was some sort of angel, when in fact, she knew she had always been a demon out of hell. Some day, some how, Jake would find out about her past.

A related problem haunted Jan as she went about the mind-numbing task of order fulfillment, with which she continued to help because Jake could not handle it all by himself. Except for the one time, Jake had not mentioned marriage. At first, she was happy that he was not pressing for an answer, but as the days passed, her reaction turned to a mixture of both relief and concern. Had he changed his mind? Had he decided that living together was all he wanted—all he needed? Had he already found out about her past and now looked on her as some sort of live-in slave or private whore?

She walked out onto the freshly painted porch and picked up the morning paper. The air was crisp and she shivered while looking at the trees in the front yard, painted in so many shades of red and gold. On the way to the kitchen for her first cup of coffee of the day, she pulled the paper out of its plastic sleeve and checked the date—October 31.

It felt strange to be in the house without Jake. Almost without notice, he left on what he called a buying trip to Virginia Beach. If he was planning the trip, why had he not discussed it with her previously? Why had he not invited her to tag along? He called late last night to give her the telephone number of his motel room. At least he was still thinking about her. Could there be another woman?

After eating breakfast, cleaning up the kitchen and dressing, Jan went to the remodeled study which smelled of pine paneling. Yesterday's canvas bag of orders awaited her attention. She picked up the telephone and dialed the number for Jake's motel room, but he did not answer. She opened the telephone directory, found and dialed the number for the Dot Baptist Church.

“Dot Baptist Church, may I help you?” asked a pleasant female voice.

“Yes. My name is Jan Patrick. I'd like to make an appointment to see Rev. McGee—this afternoon if possible."

“Let me see,” said the happy voice. Jan visualized the secretary searching an appointment calendar. “He's free at four o'clock. Is that too late?"

“Four will be fine. Thank you so much."

“You're most welcome."

Jan replaced the telephone in its cradle and leaned back in the desk chair with a sigh. “What the hell would I have said if the woman asked why I want to see Mack?” she thought.

The radio in Susan Honneycutt's car, as always, played music from the classical station WFDD in Winston-Salem. She was proud of her alma mater and listened faithfully to its radio station out of a sense of loyalty as well as her appreciation of the music it featured. She smiled when she remembered that the call letters stood for Wake Forest Demon Deacons. The sun glinting through the colorful leaves of the trees lining Highway 13 brought a smile to her lips. She thought that the research she needed to do in the Wake Forest Law Library would not take very long. She resolved to drop by the College Book Store and purchase an instant camera so that she could take pictures of this display of nature's exquisite art on her way home.

Jake spent the morning in his supplier's warehouse, ordering spring merchandise—a business transaction he could more easily have made by telephone or computer.

He walked the main drag of Virginia Beach until he found the shop he and his wife previously owned. He looked at it a long time before entering, and he left immediately. Everything was changed. There was a different merchandise mix, different fixtures, and different people.

He drove to the location of the house where they once lived. It was now an overgrown vacant lot. A stranger, raking leaves in the yard next to the lot, told Jake that a hurricane destroyed the house years ago.

He drove to the cemetery. Everything looked so strange. He walked for an hour before finding the stone that read, “Mary Spainhour Everheart.” He stood reverently at the foot of the grave for several silent minutes. “I miss you, my Mary,” he said at last. The tears cascaded down his cheeks as he weakly sat beside the sacred mound of earth.

“I love you so much. I am so sorry, Mary—so very, very sorry. You never cared much for sex. I know that, but you knew how much I liked it, so you became a good actress. I don't remember a single time that you ever refused me. You were never too tired, never too sick, and never too busy. Even when you were riding your cotton pony you would quietly do it for me with your tiny little hand."