“I'm a worthless piece of shit."
“Tell me you'll never touch me again."
“I'll never touch you again."
She moved away and put on a white apron while he rose to his knees.
“Maggie,” he said. “I really am sorry. I thought you were sending me a signal."
She looked at him but did not respond as she put on a hairnet and adjusted her red cap. He struggled to his feet.
“Damn, you're strong. Where did you learn that stuff?"
“I have five brothers,” she said as she pushed past him on her way back to the kitchen.
Eddie's pride was wounded, but try as he would, he could not keep up with Maggie's pace. By noon, half the boxes were empty, their contents washed and put away.
“Fix me a sandwich, Eddie,” George Bennett said through the partially opened door. “Forty-six interviews and there's still a line.” Then he noticed Maggie. “Hello, lovely lady,” he said cheerfully. He came into the kitchen and held out his hand. “I'm George Bennett. I own the place. Where did you come from?"
Eddie again felt his knees grow weak as Maggie smiled. “I'm Margaret Skinner,” she replied. “I saw your ad in the paper and came to apply for a job, but there were so many in line I decided to look the place over. I saw Eddie struggling with these heavy boxes and thought I'd give him a hand. I became so involved I never did get in line."
“She's worked my tail off, Mr. Bennett,” Eddie laughed. “Seriously, she's a good worker."
“Which of the jobs are you applying for?” Bennett asked.
“I'm a cook,” she replied.
“Hmmm. Do you have any experience?"
“I worked in the cafeteria kitchen the one year I was at Clemson. College just wasn't for me, so I took a job as a short order cook in Rock Hill, South Carolina. I was there almost five years."
“Why did you leave?"
She shot Eddie a glance. “It came to the point I could no longer stand the sexual harassment from my boss."
“I'm sorry,” Bennett said. “It's unfortunate, but there are men in this world who think women are on this earth solely to be their sexual toys."
“Yeah,” she said. “But in this case my boss was a woman."
“Oh,” Bennett said, his face coloring slightly.
“When I threatened to file charges against her, she beat me to the punch. She claimed I was embezzling receipts from the restaurant. Nothing came of her charges, of course, because I wasn't guilty. The whole thing was so messy, though, that I decided it was time to start over somewhere else. I thought I'd give Charlotte a try. That's how I came to see your ad."
“Married?” Bennett asked.
She shook her head and smiled. “Not even a boyfriend."
“Maggie,” Bennett said, “you're a very likable young lady. How old are you—twenty-five?"
“Close,” she replied. “Twenty-six."
“I like you very much and I am impressed by your industry, but I have all the kitchen personnel I need. You see, I used to own a restaurant chain in Charlotte. I was fortunate enough to get several of my former employees to come to work for me here. I still need waitresses and housekeepers for the motel though."
Maggie's shoulders sagged noticeably.
“What about the night shift—ten to six, Mr. Bennett?” Eddie asked.
“I don't think...” He paused.
“You don't think it's safe for a woman to work that shift?"
“I don't expect to have much business during those hours. I plan to have just one person running the place from midnight to six."
“I'll take it,” she said.
“I don't know."
“Boss,” Eddie chimed in. “She was raised in a family with five brothers. She knows how to take care of herself."
“Fill out an application,” Bennett said. “We'll see what happens. Report to work two weeks from today."
“Mr. Bennett,” Maggie said, her brilliant white teeth flashing as she smiled, “you won't regret it, but I need a job now. It looks like you have plenty of work to do getting set up, and I can help getting the motel ready too."
George grinned and shook his head. “It's hard to say no to you, Maggie Skinner. Fix me a hamburger with everything on it. Let's see your culinary talents in action."
“I saved your pretty little ass,” Eddie said after George returned to the waiting applicants.
Her big brown eyes flashed a warning. “Forget it,” she said.
“Hey. You've made your point. Your body is off limits. I respect that, but can't we be friends?"
“Okay, friend,” she smiled. “Do me another favor. Tell me where I can find a place in Dot to hang my cap."
“That's a tough one,” he said. “I rented the last place available a couple of weeks ago. It's just a four room house,” he explained. “There's barely enough room for my, uh, wife and me or I would offer to let you bunk with us until something turns up."
“Now that the weather is warming up,” she said, “I can sleep in my Blazer. How about letting me use your bathroom for showers and stuff?"
A vision of the naked beauty with beaded water on her breasts standing in his shower stall popped into Crow's mind. “No problem,” he leered. “And I have a Whirl Pool, too. Just the thing to take the ache out of those well developed muscles of yours."
They worked together at a fast pace and by late afternoon, all of the boxes were empty. Maggie heard George call her name. She looked up and saw him standing on the opposite side of the opening between the kitchen and front counter.
“I just got rid of the last one,” he said. “Come on out here and fill out an application."
“Boss,” Eddie said wiping his hands on his apron. “I'm gonna take ten and go check on Greta."
Bennett nodded.
“Good luck,” Eddie said. He lightly patted her bottom and danced away from her attempt to slap him. He went out to the loading dock and breathed deeply. There was a hint if spring in the air.
He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. He spotted the tractor trailer truck at the end of the row of motel rooms and walked briskly towards it. He watched as a crew of men finished furnishing the room and moved on to the next one. Greta was vacuuming the carpet when he entered the newly completed room.
“Not very fancy,” he said over the roar of the vacuum.
Greta smiled and switched off the noisy machine. “No, but the bed's comfortable,” she replied. “Go on, try it."
He sat on the edge of the mattress and bounced up and down. “Not bad,” he agreed.
Greta gasped as he pulled the toy pistol from his belt.
“Looks real, doesn't it?"
“If it ain't real, what is it?"
“It's an air pistol, or at least I thought it was. I bought it at Wal-Mart the other day. Turns out it has spring action—not compressed air. That limits the range and velocity."
“What do you want with an air gun?” she asked.
“It shoots darts as well as pellets,” he explained. “I was planning on dipping the darts in a strong tranquilizer and popping Sandra Dollar in the ass with it when I kidnap her. If it works like the tranquilizer guns animal control officers use, she'd be unconscious instantly. Trouble is, it doesn't have much range. What I need to do is find out how close to her I must be to get a dart to stick her scrawny hide."
“You ain't gonna test that thing on me, are you?"
“It's just a little dart,” he said, holding one in his hand. “Get in the bathroom, push your britches down and bend over the toilet."
“Eddie, please, don't make me do this."
“Tell you what,” he said, his face contorting into the sinister look she knew too well. “I'll give you a choice. You do what I told you or I'll jam this dart up to the hilt in your clit. It's your choice, bitch."
She walked sadly to the bathroom and followed his instructions. He went to the far wall, cocked the gun, raised the loading chamber, inserted the dart, closed the chamber and aimed.
>
She jerked when the dart reached its target.
“Don't move, bitch,” he warned. He strolled to the bathroom, picked the dart up from the floor and examined her buttocks. “Damn thing didn't even prick your skin."
He took a position about twenty feet away, cocked and loaded the gun, aimed and fired. Again the missile touched her buttock cheek but did not penetrate. The third try from fifteen feet, broke the skin, but did not stick in Greta's flesh. The fourth try from ten feet produced the desired result and Greta yelped as the metal point penetrated her flesh and remained partially embedded.
Eddie yanked out the dart and smiled when he saw blood on her skin. “Ten feet will do it,” he said. “I guess that's better than nothing."
“How do you plan to get her to take off her britches before you pop her?"
“You have a point. I guess I'll have to aim for her arm or face."
Greta started to get up, but he roughly pushed her back down. “Spread your ass cheeks, baby, and open up that nice little hole for me,” he demanded as he unzipped his pants.
* * * *
As the pencil flew over the form, Maggie sensed Bennett's eyes studying her, but she felt no alarm. When she handed him the completed application she said, “Mr. Bennett, I appreciate you giving me this opportunity. I won't let you down, but I do have one problem."
He smiled easily. “And that is...?"
“I just came to the area yesterday. I spent the night in a motel in Charlotte, but I can't afford to keep that up much longer. Eddie says he has the last available rental unit in Dot. Do you happen to know of anything?"
“Not really,” he said. His heart seemed heavy as he saw the disappointment in her eyes.
“It's okay,” she said. “I can sleep in my Blazer until something opens up. Eddie said I could use his bathroom."
“You have a Blazer?” he asked.
She nodded. “It's my one luxury. It should be fairly obvious that I am the athletic type. The Blazer turns me on. I see myself using the four wheel drive to scamper over fields and through streams in search of adventure like in the TV ads,” she laughed.
“Maggie,” he said as he folded his hands together and placed them under his chin. “I think I need to tell you something.” He stared out over the dining area for a moment and then locked his eyes on hers. “You are the spitting image of my wife. She was five feet six and I'd wager you're the same. She had the same short brown hair and full eyebrows, the same radiant smile, the same facial beauty without the need of makeup, the same body build except maybe her, uh, chest area was a little fuller. She even liked to wear a ball cap and she had the same first name."
“Had?"
He nodded sadly.
“We sold our restaurants in Charlotte, bought a big, fancy house here in Dot and then she died.” He brushed a tear from his eye as Maggie reached for his hand.
He looked at her hand resting on his. “We were going to spend our retirement years playing golf, fishing, hiking, exploring and making love."
“I'm so sorry, Mr. Bennett."
“It's a big house. I just rattle around in it. I'm not a dirty old man, Maggie. What I'm trying to say is you're welcome to stay with me if you like."
She brightened. “I'll pay you rent and keep the place clean for you,” she offered.
He shook his head. “Mrs. Morgan comes in once a week to clean,” he said, “and I don't want your money. Consider it part of your salary. There is one thing you could do, though."
“I ... I can't replace your wife, Mr. Bennett,” she said and she wondered why she squeezed his hand.
“Hey,” he said sitting back in his chair. “I told you I am not a dirty old man."
“I didn't mean to imply..."
“I would like for us to become good friends,” he said with a weak smile. “When it's not an inconvenience I would like to, well, enjoy your company. Go to church with you, play golf, fish, go hiking—things like a daughter might do with her dad."
She smiled warmly. “I think that's a distinct probability."
Eddie Crow watched the last part of the conversation from his vantagepoint in the kitchen. He imagined it was his hand, not Bennett's, Maggie was squeezing. He saw himself pull Maggie's firm body against his, slip off her clothing as she removed his, explore her full lips as she snaked her tongue inside his mouth. He moaned and shook his head. One day, he promised himself. One day I'll lie between her upturned legs and feel her breasts flatten against my chest.
* * * *
While Maggie moved her things from the Blazer to the large guestroom directly across from the master bedroom, George prepared dinner consisting of tossed salad, baked potatoes, thick charcoal T-bone steaks and Texas toast. They ate in silence, listening to the sound of big band music coming from the den stereo. She insisted on washing the dishes, but as soon as the last utensil was put away she slipped beneath the rippling waves of the Whirl Pool in the bathroom of the master bedroom. I could get used to this, she thought.
George snapped on the big screen TV in the den and stretched out on the sofa. He wasn't used to the long working day he just completed. It seemed as if every muscle of his body was in rebellion. He watched one sitcom after another, too tired to use the remote to search for better shows. He turned over on his side and groaned out loud.
“Mind if I join you?” Maggie asked.
He lifted his head and looked to his left. She was standing there, smiling radiantly, with a towel wrapped around her wet hair and a simple white, terrycloth robe around her body. He wondered where the breasts suddenly came from.
“Please,” he said as he tried to sit up, “I'd love some company."
“Don't get up,” she protested as she hastened to his side and gently pushed him back into a reclining position. “Somebody's muscles are sore,” she said with a soothing voice. “Turn over on your tummy and let my magic fingers come to your relief."
He smiled weakly as he obeyed, and he moaned with pleasure as her fingers found the aching muscles of his shoulders. She sat on the edge of the sofa and worked slowly to his lower back. They listened to the sounds from the television and did not speak until the ten o'clock program began.
“Oh,” she said. “Wildcat is my favorite show."
He sat up and said, “I could have guessed,” he laughed. “You picture yourself as the female detective who weekly rights the wrongs of the world."
“Yeah, maybe I do,” she confessed.
They sat side by side through the first segment of the show. As the first of a long series of commercials began, he felt her head on his shoulder. She was fast asleep. He eased away from her and gently guided her head to his lap. She opened her eyes briefly and smiled at him. Her robe gaped open and he saw no more television that night. He could not pull his eyes away from the magnificent exposed breast and the soft brown curls that adorned her pubic area. When the eleven o'clock news ended, he carefully slipped out from under her head. He thought about trying to carry the sleeping beauty to her bedroom, but knew he did not have the strength. He placed a pillow under her head, an afghan over her body now curled in a fetal position, and gently kissed her cheek.
“Good night, Maggie,” he whispered.
He dreamed of holding in his arms a beautiful young lady wearing a red cap, and the young lady was definitely not his daughter.
The room was dark when she awoke. It took her a minute to realize where she was. There was an afghan on the floor; her robe was completely open, exposing her body from neck to ankle. Did he do this? Did he take advantage of me while I slept? She slipped her hand between her legs. If he screwed me, she thought, he used a condom. She ran both hands up her rippling belly and fondled her breasts. She felt her nipples harden and she flicked them playfully with her fingers. It had been an incredibly good day. She landed a great job and a palace to live in. She thought of George Bennett. She visualized his salt and pepper hair, his small but wiry body, and his sad eyes when he spoke of his deceased wife. She smiled when she re
membered his comment to the effect that her breasts were small. Perhaps he knew better, now. She remembered the feel of his tight muscles and how they relaxed under her prodding fingers. She pulled the afghan back over her and smiled contentedly as she drifted back to sleep.
* * * *
“Damn, Eddie. You've never made love to me like that before—so sweet and gentle. I could fall in love with a guy who handles me like that."
“Greta,” he replied. “Have you ever thought of wearing a baseball cap?"
Chapter Five
Greta awoke with a start when the first rays of sunlight filtering through the bedroom window danced on her eyelids. She sat up quickly, remembered it was Sunday and she had the day off. Eddie was not in bed and she wondered why he had gotten up so early on the one day he could sleep late. She slipped into the bathroom and relieved herself, washed her hands and looked at her face in the vanity mirror. Her eyes dropped to her breasts and she handled them gently, regretting that they were beginning to sag. She looked better in clothes, but Eddie made her sleep in the nude and required her to remain that way unless she was going outside the house.
She headed to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Crow sitting at the kitchen table.
“Why are you wearing a white shirt and tie?” she asked.
“It's Easter Sunday. We're going to church like everybody else in Dot."
“Aw, Eddie. Please. I ain't been in church in so long I've forgotten how to act. Besides, I don't have nothing I can wear.” She sulked to the kitchen counter and poured a cup of coffee, which she knew would be too strong. He always made it too strong for her taste.
“We need to establish our credibility, Greta. Letting folks see us in church is a major step in that direction. In fact, we're going to join the church this morning. When you fill out the membership card, remember your last name is now Crow, not Dominick."
She cut the thick liquid with milk. “Are you gonna ever marry me, Eddie?"
“You wish,” he laughed. “Tell you something else we're gonna do. We're gonna join the church choir."
“Shit, Eddie,” she said as she sat opposite him at the table and shook cereal into her bowl, “I can't sing."
Sintown Chronicles II: Through Bedroom Windows Page 5
