by Lionel White
“For God’s sake,” he said, “let’s not fight. Let’s, just for once spend an evening without fighting. ”
“That’s fine with me,” Myrtle said. She slugged her drink in a single gulp.
They had the baby in bed by seven-fifteen and then sat down in the kitchen and had dinner. Myrtle ate very little. Later, while Myrtle cleaned up the dishes, Howard went into the living room and turned on television. He had decided not to change his clothes. He’d just run the electric shaver over his chin and change his shirt, after the baby sitter arrived.
The doorbell rang at ten minutes to eight.
“Get it, ’ ’ Myrtle called from the bathroom, where she was working over her face with cleansing cream. “It’s probably Louisa, thesitter.”
Howard went to the door.
Every now and then nature, usually a capricious and perverse minx, decides to give humanity a rare treat by creating an individual who is endowed with only the finest of the various physical features of each of his or her parents. In the case of Louisa Mary Julio she had seen fit to perform this unusual favor.
Louisa's father was a Spaniard, a small, wizened little man with narrow I shoulders, an almost grotesque posture, but with large expressive dark eyes
and fine, delicate bone structure. Louisa’s mother, who had been Kathleen O’Hara before her completely baffling marriage to Louisa’s father, had the full-blown, buxom beauty of a North Ireland lass. She possessed golden blond hair, a flawless, peachlike complexion and a body in perfect proportion
and of the type to make sculptors go into a frenzy.
Louisa herself, her mother’s third child and second daughter, was no larger than her father but she had a body which made her seem a miniature replica of her mother. She had her father’s black eyes and long dark lashes, but her mother’s fair skin and her mother’s beautiful golden blond hair. She was a very beautiful girl and although she had just turned fifteen, she could easily have passed for two or three years older. Her breasts were fully developed, but she still had the tiny waist and hips of an immature girl. Her legs and arms were full and round.
She positively exuded sex. And she was well aware of this fact.
The light was on over the front door when Howard answered the bell and the second he saw the girl standing there, he was almost overwhelmed at her beauty. For one of the few times in his life, he was speechless in front of a member of the opposite sex.
Louisa looked up at him from under her long dark lashes.
“Mr. McNally?” she asked.
“Come in, come in,” Howard said, stepping back, half in confusion. He held the door wide for her. "Well—I guess you must be the baby sitter,” he said.
She smiled at him, saying nothing as she passed in front of him and entered the living room. It seemed as though she purposely brushed against the buttons of his jacket.
Howard closed the door. He turned as the girl cocked her head and removed the black beret, letting clouds of golden hair loose to swirl around her face.
“Better let me have your coat,” Howard said.
She smiled at him again and took off the short, cloth coat she was wearing, to reveal a tight-fitting jersey sweater with a turtle neck. Instinctively and at once, Howard knew that in spite of her maturely developed body, she was not wearing a brassiere.
She wore a short, plaid skirt which barely came to her knees. Her legs were bare but for half socks which showed a few inches above her low heeled red shoes.
“Sitdown,” Howard said. “Just sit down anywhere. Mrs. McNally will be right in.”
Howard went over to the television set and turned down the volume.
This is the television,” he said, rather aimlessly. “I guess you know how
to work it?”
The girl nodded, again smiling at him.
“And there are cookies and ginger ale in the icebox,” Howard continued.
Suddenly he felt like a fool. Offering this girl cookies and ginger ale. Good God, he felt completely silly. He was talking to her as though she were a child. But she was no child. It didn’t matter how old she was, she was not a child. If he had been asked to guess, Howard would have put her age at seventeen at the very most, possibly as little as sixteen.
But no matter what he might have guessed as to her age, he recognized immediately certain qualities in her make-up which automatically removed her from the status of adolescence.
Howard was still trying to find something to say when Myrtle entered the room from the hallway. Myrtle hardly looked at the girl.
“I’ll show you the baby,” she said. “She’s asleep already and I don’t think that she’ll wake up until we get back. But if she does, there’s a pan of water on the stove and the formula is already made up in a bottle in the icebox. You’ll probably know...”
The girl left the room, following Myrtle, and Howard heard her giving the usual instructions. Howard went into the bathroom to get ready for the party.
They left the house at twenty after eight. Myrtle walked with a firm step and she looked fine. But Howard knew that already she was half drunk. He just hoped to God that she’d behave herself.
They passed in front of the home next door, the one in which the new neighbors had just moved, and both noticed that the lights in the living room were on. The Venetian blinds had been drawn and they were unable to see inside, however.
The Neilsens’ house was also lighted up and the McNallys could see Mrs. Neilsen’s silhouette where she sat under a reading lamp, with a book.
They were the first couple to arrive at the Swansons’ and Tom Swanson greeted them with a drink in each hand.
Howard’s mind, however, was still back in the living room of his own house and he hardly heard Tom Swanson’s hearty greeting. Howard was thinking about the new baby sitter.
He was still thinking about the new baby sitter as he recrossed Crescent Drive some three and a half hours later, returning to his house for a moment to see if everything was all right.
When Howard reached his own front door, his breath was coming in short, hard gasps, in spite of the fact that he had only been walking. He noticed at once that the light was on in the front room, but he also saw that the window of the bedroom at the side of the house was also lighted up; the bedroom they
had turned into a nursery.
Howard took the key from his pants’ pocket, inserted it in the keyhole and was surprised to find that the door was unlocked. He twisted the knob and entered the living room. He wasn’t surprised to find the room vacant.
Quickly he stepped across the room and entered the hallway. In a moment he was standing in the opened door of the nursery.
The girl was leaning over the crib, her back to him. She was cooing at the baby.
For no reason at all, Howard lifted his hand and rapped with his knuckles on the door. At the same time he spoke.
“Don’t be alarmed,” he said; trying to keep the tone of his voice normal. “Don’t be alarmed, youngster, it’s only me.”
The girl quickly swung around, her eyes wide. But she didn’t look in the least alarmed.
“Oh,” she said. “Oh, are you back already?”
Howard smiled at her and stepped into the room.
“No—no,” he said. “But Myrtle, Mrs. McNally, thought she heard some noises coming from here and I just thought I’d stop by and see if everything was all right. Did you hear...”
The girl suddenly put the fuzzy teddy bear which she was holding back in the crib. She looked up at Howard and smiled.
“They made some noise next door,” she said. “I think it woke up the baby, but she’s gone back to sleep already. ’ ’
Howard stepped over next to her and looked down into the crib.
“Yes,” he said, “Yes, she’s gone back to sleep.”
The girl just stood there, next to him, not moving and not saying anything.
Howard felt the sudden dryness in his throat. He couldn’t keep his eyes away from her.
The light switch was within arm’s distance and Howard reached over and clicked it. The girl still hadn’t moved.
He was standing not more than two feet from the girl and he reached out and his hand found her arm.
“Come out to the kitchen,” he said, “I’ll find us a soft drink.” He realized as he spoke that his voice was a little too high, that it reflected the tenseness and excitement he felt. He didn’t want to frighten her, so he quickly released her arm.
She followed him into the kitchen, looking at him queerly, he thought. His laugh was a little false as he smiled at her.
“I’ll bet you like coke,” he said. “Or maybe you would rather have a glass of beer.”
“I’m not supposed to drink beer,” she said. “But I do like it.”
He was reaching into the icebox now and he took out two bottles of beer.
"I’ll bet that there are a lot of things you like that you’re not supposed to do,” Howard said. It was a pretty corny line and Howard knew it. But what the hell, this was just a kid; he wasn’t sure exactly what line to take and he had to start somewhere.
Suddenly she reached over and took the bottle which he was beginning to uncap, from his hand. Her own hand touched his and he experienced a quick, breathless thrill at the contact with her flesh.
“Let me,” she said. “I know how.”
“No,” Howard said, “I’ll do it. Here, let me show you the best way.”
It was pretty clumsy but he managed to encircle her waist with one arm as she still held the opener. She half turned and looked up at him with wide innocent eyes.
The girl was deliberately flirting with him, definitely playing up to his subtle pass. There was no doubt about it in Howard’s mind. He’d had enough girls and women in his life to know.
“My,” he said, "you’re really a big girl.”
“Oh, I’m big enough.”
“You are,” Howard said. The excitement had grown in him now until it had reached an almost unbearable pitch. His intelligence told him, that even if he were right about this child, this girl, he should play it carefully, take his time. But his intelligence was no longer controlling his actions.
Quickly, he spoke again.
“You are big enough, ” he said, his voice almost a whisper now. “Big enough to be kissed, I’ll bet.”
She didn’t say a thing but just stood there in the circle of his arm and looked at him. There was a smug little half smile on her lips.
Howard suddenly drew his arm tight; at the same time dropping the beer bottle on the sink. He pulled her to him and as Louisa opened her mouth in sudden alarm, he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers.
She was like an eel, then, struggling to pull her face away, her small fists pushing against his chest.
The more she struggled, however, the more passionate and uncontrollable became his own desires. It was strange, that even then, one small rational fragment of his mind kept saying, “you fool! You insane fool. This girl is dynamite. She’s a child. Even if she lets you, it can be serious trouble. It can be jail.
But the other and by far greater part of Howard’s intelligence was completely paralyzed by his desire. The fact that she was struggling, meant nothing. A lot of them struggled, but sooner or later they came around. The ones who struggled, in fact, had been the most passionately acquiescent in the long
run.
I It only lasted for two or three minutes, minutes which found Howard tear
ing at her clothes, wild with a frenzy of uncontrolled desire. And then suddenly he dropped her and yelled. She had sunk her small white teeth into his lip and the blood was welling over his mouth.
For a split second, she just stood there, staring at him wild-eyed as he jumped back and put his hand to his face. Then, completely calm and collected, she spoke in a small, childish voice.
“I’m going to tell your wife,” she said. “I’m going right over and tell her...”
Howard’s hand dropped from his mouth and for a moment his eyes were insane as he looked at her.
“My God,” he said. "My God, you can’t. Listen. Listen, let me...”
But she had turned and already had the kitchen door open. She was running as she left the back porch.
Howard knew only one thing. He had to stop her. Had to reason with her. She had to listen to him and understand. God damn her, she couldn’t tell Myrtle!
Even then, in that split second as he thought about it, the idea of Myrtle was -n’t really what bothered Howard. But that child would run across to the Swansons’ and in front of everyone, she’d make her accusation.
Howard knew only too well what it would sound like. A young girl, her clothes torn and disheveled. Himself with his lip all bloody. There wouldn’t be any doubt about it at all. It would be attempted rape—the attempted rape of a child by a fat, middle-aged man.
Even as he thought about it, he turned and with amazing speed, darted for the living room. He would get out through the front door and intercept her as she rounded the house to cross the street. He had to intercept her. His home was at stake, his job was at stake—even his freedom was at stake.
It was at this very moment, the moment that Louisa Julio left the kitchen of the McNallys’ house and Howard started to run for the front door, that Gerald Tomlinson was crossing his own back yard between his garage and his house.
He was half crouched over, moving slowly. Silhouetted in the moonlight, he looked like a man with a great hump on his back.
He had to move slowly because of the weight. Dan Arbuckle was a very heavy man.
Chapter Four
Len Neilson couldn’t imagine why Allie had moved the chair. It wasn’t, actually, a chair at all, but more of a chaise lounge. When he and Allie had been married it was the one thing Allie had taken along from her family’s hotel apartment. She’d had the chaise in her own bedroom and she’d grown attached to it. As she said to Len, “I know it’s pretty horrible, darling, but I’ve always liked it. We can have it done over in a corduroy, or one of those new crash materials, and it won’t look too awful.”
Len hadn’t objected at all, in spite of the fact that the thing took up way too much space for the small bedroom. But Allie liked it and would spend a short time each afternoon cuddled up in it while little Bill had his nap and she caught up with her sewing. Len himself had to admit that it made a convenient catchall on which to toss his clothes when he undressed before going to bed.
He didn’t want to awaken Allie, so now, moving as carefully as he could, he fumbled around in the dark, brushing heavily against the end of the double bed, as he reached out blindly to find the chaise. He figured that he’d just lie down on it for a while and grab a catnap. He didn’t want to climb into bed with Allie for fear he’d disturb her.
He knew he was still pretty tight, but he was beginning to come to a little. He felt pretty bad about getting as drunk as he had, but he wasn’t used to heavy drinking and also, he couldn’t honestly see how it could have been avoided. He just hoped to God that he hadn’t made a complete fool of himself.
But he still couldn’t understand what had happened that goddamned chaise.
He gave up trying after a minute or two, as, standing near the end of the bed, he carefully began undressing. Once or twice, while he bent over to untie his shoelaces, he almost lost his balance. When the knots failed to yield, he merely forced the shoes off his feet. He dropped one heavily to the floor, and then, remembering the old gag, stood with the other one in his hand and grinned foolishly in the dark.
He managed to get his coat and shirt off and he was beginning to feel pretty dizzy again. For a moment it occurred to him to go to the bathroom, but he was afraid he couldn’t make it. He decided to j ust sit on the end of the bed for a minute and sort of catch his breath.
He reached around until he found the edge of the bed and sat down. A second later, he leaned
back, his feet and legs hanging over the end of the bed. Ina moment his eyes closed.
It was probably because of his unusual and cramped position that he woke I up within less than a couple of hours.
The first thing he noticed was the slit of moon staring at him through the window. It took him a moment to remember where he was. That short sleep had done him a lot of good. He had a horrible taste in his mouth and every bone in his body ached, but he was just about sober. He suddenly realized he was lying there, half on and half off the bed and that he was still partly dressed. He felt like hell, but he was no longer drunk.
The moon, aiming her shafts of reflected light directly through the window, threw a sort of pale, purplish glare to the room. As Len sat up on the end of the bed, the first thing he noticed was the double dresser over against the wall. He suddenly remembered the missing chaise lounge.
The chaise was gone and in its stead was a double dresser. Dizzily he shook his head from side to side. He couldn’t imagine what Allie had been doing with the place.
He decided that he’d better turn on the night light. The condition he was in, he doubted that he’d even be able to find the bathroom in the half dark, especially as Allie seemed to have booby-trapped the place with some new and odd pieces of furniture.
The night light, which had always been on the small end table at the side of the bed, was missing. In fact the table itself was missing.
Len pulled himself to his feet and staggered over to where the door of the room would be. Next to the door was the overhead light switch. By God, that couldn’t be missing!
He stumbled over his shoes, but recovered himself. He found the light switch without trouble. He snapped on the light. His back was to the bed and so the first thing he saw was the wall of the room. Allie had not only changed the furniture, she’d repapered the damned walls!
