“I want to do what you do,” Nip sang as she followed him into the living room.
Pete was sitting on the center table, smoking a cigarette and swinging his long legs genially. Lee was glaring at him, and Tuck tried to appear vivacious when the bottles appeared.
“That’s what we’ve been waiting for,” she said. “The party’s about to go dead. Let’s whoop it up.”
“I think the party’s rather stupid,” Lee said, glaring at Pete as he followed Tuck to the table and tilted the bottle of Scotch to his lips.
Blanche appeared just then, and Pete grabbed her arm with one hand to lead her to a pile of rugs in the corner while he gripped the Bacardi bottle in the other hand.
“You and me are going to get acquainted,” he told her. “Nothing like a bottle of Bacardi to promote acquaintanceships.”
“All right,” she laughed. “Let’s.”
“What about that moon?” Nip asked Bill. “Wasn’t something said about a moon?”
“That’s the ticket,” Lee said. He took a chaser of ice water after his Scotch, and firmly drew Tuck out the front door.
“There is a garden,” Bill said. “But I’m afraid it’s in a very sad state right now. Want to come exploring?” He looked at Blanche and Pete in the corner.
“Not a chance,” Pete gurgled, “I’m all for indoor sports. This is all the exploring I want to do.”
Blanche’s eyes met Bill’s for a moment. It was as though she had kissed him on the cheek and dismissed him. He felt funny inside as he and Nip went out together. It seemed the mad moment in the cellar must have been a dream. Surely it could not have happened. Could two souls meet … and part thus? There trooped a host of distorted imaginings through Bill’s mind. So much that needed adjustment and thinking out.
But Nip and the moon demanded his immediate attention. The untended grass had crept riotously over stone paths in the, garden. A night-blooming jasmine flung out its soporific scent to flood the garden with overpowering sweetness.
Bill and Nip stopped together under a trellis of climbing roses and looked at the moon peering from behind a lacy palm frond.
The world was hushed and sleeping. The soft lapping of wavelets on the sandy beach, and the uneasy swish of palmetto leaves swaying in the slight breeze were the only sounds.
Nip put her hands on Bill’s shoulders and turned her face up to him.
He looked into her eyes and saw a glow within which set his thoughts in a whirl. He looked at her face, and thought of Blanche’s face in the darkness.
Nip strained against him and her young body cried out passionately for recognition.
Suddenly Bill felt very old.
Very aged, and very weary. He had left his youth back there somewhere along the road where he had shed the illusions of youth. And he knew his youth had been a glorious thing, and the illusions more glorious still.
And he sighed. And Nip drew his head down so his lips touched hers. Then Bill Porter was ashamed. For he knew he had tricked Nip. She wanted so much … he had so little to offer her.
Their lips clung together for an indescribable instant.
There was a movement in the garden a little way off from them. A low, questioning sigh. Then a suave voice:
“But I assure you it’s all right. The best authorities advocate that unintiated maidens view the full splendor of the moon. Preferably, looking over the left shoulder of her lover.”
“Is that so?” said Bill.
Nip started at the sound of his voice. There was an abrupt flurry of bodies and startled exclamations from the dark huddle beneath the oak.
Bill was just as surprised as any of the others to hear his lips speak the words. He was angry at himself for breaking the witchery of the night. Angry at Tuck for letting herself in for this sort of thing. Angry at the inner compulsion which had caused him to speak.
“So it’s you again?” Lee’s voice came to them angrily.
“Let’s leave them alone, Bill.” Nip clutched at his arm.
He shook her hand off. “I’m going to be forced to read your pedigree to you yet,” he told Lee.
Tuck came toward him in the dim light, and Lee followed her. “You’re as bad as a clucking hen with a brood of chicks,” she complained.
“I admit everything,” Bill said. “Let’s get back to the house.”
“You might sneak up to the window and see what’s going on,” Lee said.
“Not a chance.” Bill smiled at him. “Pete and Blanche are old enough to decide what they want without the benefit of advice. These kids aren’t.”
He and Nip went on to the door while Tuck and Lee followed a few paces behind.
Blanche was sitting on the table when he opened the door. Her hair was mussed, and the rouge on her lips was smeared, but she appeared perfectly composed. There was a queer smile on her lips as she held out a water glass half-filled with Bacardi.
Pete slouched morosely in the corner. Bill noted that the Bacardi bottle was empty.
“Greetings,” Blanche said. She lifted her glass and drank the contents. “I needed that,” she shuddered.
“Let’s all have one,” Tuck said. “Maybe it’ll drive the glooms away.”
“There’s only one gloom that needs driving away,” Lee muttered.
Bill bowed. “I’m very happy to do all I can to spoil your idea of a good time,” he told him.
“Oh yeah?” Lee glared at him while Bill smiled happily.
“Here’s a deck of cards,” Nip said from the other side of the room. “We might try a rubber of bridge.”
“Let’s play poker,” Tuck said.
“Strip poker?” Lee interjected.
“Sure.” Tuck grinned. “Why not?”
“I’m not very well equipped for a strip poker game,” Blanche said.
“We can always turn out the light,” Nip said. She moved to the table and started clearing off one end of it. “Drag up some chairs,” she commanded. “Then we’ll all have a drink to get in the mood.”
Pete stumbled erect and lurched toward them. “Poker?” he questioned. “Gran’ game. Deal me uh han’.”
“Everybody gets a hand,” Nip said. “No pikers allowed. We’ll play stud. Everybody has to stay all the way, and bet one article of clothing on every card turned up. All set?”
Bill stood in the background helplessly as they all gathered about the table. His last drink had been extremely stiff. The party seemed to be running away from him. For a moment he regretted his attitude toward Nip and Tuck. After all, they could only learn by experience. Who was he to set himself up as a guardian of their morals? They were eighteen.
He sighed and moved up to the table as Blanche turned and beckoned to him.
Nip was dealing the cards. Everyone bet a shoe first. Then another shoe. Then socks and filmy hosiery.
Lee won the first pot with a pair of eights. Bill stood close to Blanche and watched glumly as Nip dealt a hole-card around, and then the first card up.
He could not rid himself of the uneasy feeling that this wasn’t really happening. He glanced around the group and tried to visualize what changes another pot would bring.
Then he silently cursed himself for a doddering fool, and took another stiff drink. That helped a little.
The men were all coatless. Pete wore hose supporters, and he bet one of them on the first card. Bill had to give up his necktie. Blanche threw a jeweled garter into the pot, while Nip tossed in an earring, and Tuck a bracelet. Lee had a whole pile of clothing in front of him to bet.
The second card called forth another supporter, the second garter, Bill’s shirt, an earring, and a necklace.
Then Pete’s tie. Bill’s belt. Blanche calmly slipped out of her dress and was clad in a shimmering petticoat: Tuck giggled and refused Lee’s aid as she drew a pair of step-ins from under her skirt.
Nip hesitated as they all looked at her. “I’m out of luck,” she said. “I wore my chemise.”
“No backing out,” Lee remind
ed her.
She hesitated and looked about. Bill wanted to say something … but he simply waited.
“I’m not a quitter,” Nip said. She unzipped her dress swiftly and drew it over her head. Her chemise was black, with pink roses embroidered on it. Her limbs reflected the dull glow from the lamp, and her breasts rose and fell tumultuously behind the revealing material.
Lee wet his lips.
Bill continued to wait.
The next card called for Pete’s shirt, Bill’s undershirt. Blanche shook off her petticoat and threw it defiantly into the center of the table. She was standing very close to Bill, and he caught his breath at the beauty of her figure, hidden only by a dainty brassiere and brief panties.
“Thank God I wore a brassiere,” Tuck muttered. It joined the heap of garments on the table and her slim figure remained sheathed in the green voile.
“What … what do I do? Nip faltered.
“You were the one who suggested the game,” Lee reminded her.
She stared about the table in dismay, then moved confidently to stand by Bill’s side.
“All right,” she whispered. She shrugged down the shoulder straps and stepped from her only garment before Bill could stop her. He had a confused glimpse of pointed rosy breasts and of her straight young body before Blanche leaned forward swiftly and blew out the lamp.
There was a concerted gasp about the table, then bodies milling about.
Nip leaned her body against Bill’s bared flesh, and grabbed at his arm to draw it around her.
Blanche was on his other side, and she grabbed his arm to whisper in his ear, “Better get these babies out of this.”
Bill silently agreed with her, though none-the-less heartily. “Come on,” he said to Nip. “Get some clothes on so I can light the lamp.”
“Oh Bill! He felt her shaking beside him as though in ague. “I’m awful drunk, Bill. I’m … I’m going to be sick.”
“Wait a minute,” he said in alarm. “Don’t be sick in here.” He picked her up in his arms hastily and carried her to the door. The moon looked down in surprise as he staggered out with a nude girl in his arms and set her down oh the grass.
“Go to it,” he muttered, “I’m going in to see about Tuck and help her if I can.”
The lamp had not been lighted as he re-entered the room. “Where is everybody?” he asked.
“I’m here,” Blanche said in the darkness. “I can’t find a match.”
“In my shirt pocket,” Bill fumed. He strode to the table and searched through the clothing for a match. Blanche smiled at him when he found one lit it. Her unclad beauty did not arouse him now. He was worried about Tuck. She and Lee had vanished. Pete had quietly toppled over on the floor and lay in a stupor.
“Where are they?” Bill demanded.
“I don’t know,” Blanche said. “We were all talking and scurrying about when you carried Nip out. Is she all right?”
“She will be when she throws up the liquor she’s drunk. Suppose you take her clothes out to her while I hunt up Tuck and Lee. I’ll kill that bum if he touches her.”
“Good,” said Blanche. She blew an airy kiss to Bill as he hurried away and she gathered up Nip’s clothes and her own.
Bill glanced hurriedly into the kitchen and bathroom as he sped toward the garden. He cursed himself for being an imbecile nitwit as he stopped in the center of the garden and called to Tuck.
Only the echoes answered him. He quartered about and found no trace of them.
Blanche was fully clothed when he re-entered the house. One glance at his face told her of his non-success.
“Did you try the bedroom?” she asked.
“No.” Bill stared at her from agonized eyes. “He wouldn’t have the guts,” he muttered.
Blanche followed him as he ran to the bedroom door. It was closed, and it resisted opening as Bill rattled the knob.
“Open the door!” Bill raged. Silence came from the locked room. Bill drew back and looked about.
“Here,” Blanche said. She pushed a heavy object into his hand. A cast-iron door stop in the form of a mounted cavalier. It weighed fifteen or twenty pounds.
“Thanks,” Bill breathed. He swung the metal object over his head and brought it down on the lock with all his strength. The door burst inward and he leaped forward like a panther.
“You lousy rat!” Blanche heard him say. There was the sound of a struggle within the room, and a shrill cry of pain.
Then Lee’s body was catapulted into the hall. He crouched against the wall as Bill lunged for him with swinging fists.
There was a gleam of steel in the dim candlelight, and Blanche screamed a warning to Bill. But he was too enraged to hear her.
She flung herself between them and the keen blade slashed her shoulder. Then Bill’s fist was driven, piston-like, into the pasty face and Lee fell back soddenly.
“Are you hurt?” Bill panted.
“No. Just a scratch.” Blanche smiled at him.
“Thank God. Go in and see to Tuck. She’s passed out.”
“Don’t kill him,” Blanche said. “He’s not worth it.”
“I won’t,” Bill assured her grimly. He kicked at the gibbering thing on the floor while Blanche went in to Tuck.
“Get up!” He stooped and lifted the limp body in the air. Holding him aloft like a sack of straw, he conscientiously pounded Lee’s face to a bloody pulp. Then he carried him to the door and tossed him out on the grass.
Nip was dressed, though she was too weak to stand alone when Bill turned back and studied her with a twisted grin.
“The end of a perfect party,” he grunted. He swooped down upon the bottle of gin and drank from it. Then he sat down and stared at Nip as she dragged herself erect to go in with Blanche and Tuck.
It was a good while later before they were ready to depart. Repeated applications of ice water finally brought Tuck around to an understanding of what had occurred. She was very sick for a time, and the bathroom was in a sorry state before she was through.
Blanche proved very efficient. Bill sat apathetically at the table while she sorted out clothes and got the girls dressed. Her wound proved to be merely skin deep, and she would not even permit it to be bound. Nip and Tuck were completely chastened as they went out to the automobile with Bill and Blanche. Pete remained sunk in his stupor, and Bill ordained that he be left on the floor to sleep it off.
It was after two o’clock when Bill started the motor and backed out of the yard. Blanche sat in the front seat with him, while the two girls huddled together in the rear, silent and shaken by the events of the night.
Bill gestured toward the yard as the headlights showed no trace of the erstwhile swanky orchestra leader. “I didn’t kill him,” he said heavily; “He must have been able to crawl away.”
“I’m glad,” Blanche said warmly. “Not that he didn’t deserve killing. But he’s not worth hanging for.”
She shuddered when a shambling figure fled from the glare of the headlights into the underbrush lining the road a few hundred yards from the cottage.
“There! Did you see him?” she exclaimed.
“It’s a wonder he didn’t thumb us for a ride,” Bill said.
They rode in utter silence until they reached Tuck’s home.
“Can you get in all right?” Bill asked.
“Oh sure. I’m oke,” she said.
“By the grace of God and your Guardian Angel,” Bill told her.
“I know.” She paused to lay her hand on his arm. “Thanks. I … I can’t say anything else,” she whispered. Then she ran lightly into the yard.
Then Bill drove to the home of his employer and again stopped the car.
“It was … quite a party,” Nip said as she got out. “I’ll get skinned alive if dad wakes up and finds out what time I’m getting in. Good night. See you tomorrow.”
“Now what?” Bill asked as he drove away.
“I’m staying at the Oceanview,” Blanche said.
“I thought you lived here.”
“I used to. Until six years ago.”
“And now?” Bill questioned.
“Now I’m a bird of passage,” she told him. “I just stopped off to see how the old home town looked. I … think I’ll go on tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Bill was careful to keep his voice steady. He swung the car up to the curb in front of her hotel and cut off the ignition. Then he faced her in the moonlight.
“Yes.” She did not shrink from his appraising stare.
“You can’t do that,” Bill said.
“I can’t do anything else,” she said.
“Because of … tonight?”
“Partly. Though I think I should have left tomorrow anyway. I have a lot of things to do.”
“But I’ve just met you,” Bill protested. “Tonight wasn’t a fair sample. You’ve got to stay a little while.”
“No, my dear. Tonight was … perfect. Tomorrow? A beautiful illusion would be shattered.”
Her voice was very calm. Bill’s fingers gripped the steering wheel with numbing force. He could not believe she meant it.
“Don’t you see?” Her voice was very low and thoughtful. “We were meant to meet … and pass on. Perhaps we were both set on earth simply for tonight. It’s the only beautiful thing that has ever happened to me.” Her voice grew bitter. “I suppose the girls told you I’ve been married and divorced twice? Two mistakes. I shan’t make the third.”
“I don’t know about marriage either,” Bill said. “I do know something happened tonight which shook all my beliefs. I don’t think we should … let it go so easily.”
“That’s exactly what we must do.” She stared straight ahead. “One must never pursue an illusion.”
“Was it … illusion?”
“I’m afraid so. I don’t dare examine it too closely. Tonight has been … perfection.”
“Perfection?” Bill’s voice was hoarse.
“As near perfection, I think, as mortals are ever allowed to know. Anything else would be less. One flashing moment of passion. Transforming the drab night to something so splendid I want to dream about it always. Is there more than that in life? I … I doubt it, Bill.”
Bill waited a little time before he answered her. “I think,” he said slowly, “there is something more. Something we’ve all sought and never quite attained. A dream Grail which each mortal pursues wistfully. It seems to me,” he went on, “that you and I would be cowardly if we dropped the quest now. It seems to me that you and I, tonight, stand nearer the closed door than any man and woman have ever stood before.” His voice was strong and vibrant.
Virgin's Holiday Page 6
