The Bodies of Star Farm

by H R Jones

  “Hell, no,” he said, looking her up and down, assessing her mood, her willingness for what was on his mind, and a proposition, “Say, baby, want to get out of here, go to our ‘place’?” he asked, kissing her neck as his hands felt for the soft curvatures of her body, and his tongue traced her trembling lips.

  She melted under his intimate touches and desire-filled kisses, in spite of herself. She had no resistance to this man who could one minute make her soar with his lovemaking, and the next drop her into the depths of hell with feelings of despair and self-loathing with his perversions. She mentally fought to resist him, but she was weak and needed what he had to give.

  “Oh, Rory, I shouldn’t. I should take this time to heal, to remember who and what I am.”

  “Oh, baby, I can tell you who and what you are—you’re a woman so wound up with sexual tension right now, I’m ‘fraid you’re going to snap,” he said as he illustrated with his thumb and middle finger, “if you don’t let Rory help you unwind.” He began to nuzzle her neck, whispering in her ear what he could do for her, and what she could do for him. “Come on, baby,” he said, breathing heavily, “you know you need what I got. I know you got what I need. Let’s get outa here before I do something indecent right here in McNulty’s.”

  “Oh, Rory, you wouldn’t,” she said with a nervous giggle.

  With one pull he held her tightly in his arms and began laying her back on the booth’s generous cushions, as he moved his hand ever further under her dress.

  “Okay, okay, Rory, stop. I, I,” she had to catch her breath, “okay, yes, I’ll go.”

  “Right,” he said, easing his hold on her, “and you’ll follow me out to our place.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  With that he got up and left. It took Margo a few minutes to compose herself, she was breathing so hard. She paid her check at the bar and tried to walk, in as casual a fashion as she could, out the front door. She felt as if every eye in Mc Nulty’s was riveted on her. Everyone knew her, and knew about her past connections to Rory and his reputation. They also knew he’d just left.

  Seven

  Margo waited, with car lights off, while Rory checked in to the little two-bit, sleazy motel. It was made up of half a dozen little cabins, off the main highway, on a seldom used road.

  As soon as he stepped inside and the office door closed, with the lights off, Margo drove slowly around to the back of ‘their cabin’ and waited. The old couple who owned the motel were hard of hearing and didn’t see much better. That was for the best because Margo didn’t want to be seen or recognized in a dump like that.

  Margo closed the car door quietly, and crept round to the cabin, hiding in the shadows till Rory drove up. She waited until she could see his form coming toward her, then stepped out of the shadows. He grabbed her hand…in the other he had a bottle of liquor, and pulled her up the steps behind him.

  The door was barely closed and latched when Rory began tearing their clothes off. They fell on the bed as one. She was a little nervous, feeling almost shy. It had been a few years. Margo wondered if he was still the great lover she remembered. Would he still find her as exciting a partner as he once had?

  Drenched in sweat, and breathing heavily, he collapsed on top of her. He kissed her; she sighed and rolled away from him, thinking he was sated. Instead, he pulled her to him, ready to continue.

  “Hey, big guy, don’t you think we could take a break?”

  He pulled her back to him, holding her tightly in his muscular arms, covering her mouth with his, brushing her hair back from her face with his free hand. His breath hot on her ear, he whispered, “Sure baby, when I’m done.”

  Unable to resist, she succumbed to his desires.

  He went into the bathroom. Margo lay there questioning her decision to reconnect with the infamous Rory Star. She knew what he was like, but the minute he’d walked in the room and kissed her, she had forgotten all her reasons not to get involved, and was hooked again.

  When Rory returned to bed, he had the bottle of liquor she’d seen him carrying when they entered the cabin. Margo knew introducing more liquor into their evening was a bad idea. She steeled herself and made an attempt to leave.

  She was nearly dressed when Rory said, “You can’t go now, baby, the party is just getting started.”

  “I can’t stay any longer, Rory. I’m exhausted and I still have so much to do…”

  “Oh, come on, baby, just another little drink. Besides it’s so great being with you again. I’d nearly forgotten what a great lay you are.”

  “Please, Rory…” she pleaded.

  “Ah, come on, at least one more…”

  Not wanting to make him angry, as she knew he could be that way, she said, “Oh, all right, but just one, then I really do need to leave. It’s been a very long day.”

  One drink ended up leading to another, and before she knew it, he was on top of her again, ready for another roll in the ‘hay.’

  When he was finally finished, he collapsed beside Margo with a snort and a snore. Quickly, she gathered her clothes together, again, tip-toed to the bathroom to dress, and with Rory still asleep, she made a run into the cold night air to her car.

  She was exhausted, disheveled, and a little drunk. She knew she shouldn’t drive, but she also knew she needed to get away from Rory, and fast, before he woke up and discovered she was no longer there. “If I can just make it home…”

  Once in the house, Margo ran to the bathroom, violently ill from too much drink, too little sleep, and too much…everything. She ran a hot bath. As she undressed, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and saw the results of what too much booze, too little sleep, and too much Rory could do to her. Her flawless body looked as if she’d put on someone else’s skin. Margo eased herself into the tub of hot water and cried. It had been a very long, emotionally draining day.

  She didn’t know when the uncontrollable shivering started. It was sometime in the very early hours of morning. She just knew she had to get out of the cold water. She could see daylight piercing through the narrow slats of the closed venetian blinds. Still hung over, she wrapped herself in an old bathrobe for warmth and crawled into bed, vowing never, ever, to get involved with Rory Star ever again. No matter what!

  Eight

  One afternoon, several months after she’d moved back to Bucktown, Margo drove into Port Rock for a day of shopping. Upon leaving one of the quaint little shops, she happened by The Facet Jewelry Store, where a stunning piece of jewelry was displayed in the window. It caught her eye, and she knew she had to go in.

  The young woman at the counter asked if she could be of help. Margo smiled and asked to see the exquisite pendant showcased in the window.

  Jillian, the clerk, introduced herself and let Margo know Mr. Schwartz, the owner, would help her, as it was a very special piece. She excused herself, pulled aside the velvet curtain, to what Margo supposed was Schwartz’s office. Margo could hear a man’s voice saying, “You’re certain she is asking about the…”

  “Yes, Mr. Schwartz,” she said excitedly. “I am certain. She spent quite a bit of time just looking at it in the window before she came in.”

  “Tell her I’ll be right out.” Margo chuckled to herself. She was more than a little interested in the piece, but she didn’t want to let Schwartz know. She was afraid if he knew she wanted it that badly, it was certain he would raise the price.

  ~ * ~

  Mr. Schwartz had purchased this particular piece of jewelry in hopes it would appeal to someone who’d appreciate its uniqueness and be able to afford such an exquisite piece. He certainly didn’t want window shoppers wasting his time. He’d paid dearly for the piece, and if the truth be known, he didn’t want to part with it.

  It had originally been purchased as a surprise gift for his first wife. Before he could give it to her, she’d succumbed to the cancer neither knew she had until it was too late.

  ~ * ~

&nbs
p; The young woman returned. “Mr. Schwartz will be right with you. He wants to show you the pendant himself.”

  She’d no sooner spoken when Schwartz, with flare, pushed aside the curtain. Smiling, he said, “Is this the lady who wants to see the ‘Silver Moon’ pendant, Jillian?”

  “Yes, Mr. Schwartz.”

  He held out his hand. “I’m Milo Schwartz, the owner of Facet Jewelry Store, and your name, lovely lady?”

  Margo knew by the look in his eye he saw her as a woman of means. She assessed the smartly dressed gentleman, who appeared to be slightly older than she. He wasn’t a handsome man, but had an engaging smile and manner. Shaking his hand, she said, “Margo Oleson, Mr. Schwartz, so very nice to meet you.” She observed a lost, forlorn look about him, and wondered if he were a widower.

  “Well, I’m happy to meet you, Mrs. Oleson.”

  “No, it’s just Margo Oleson.”

  “Oh, right, Margo it is. Now, I understand you’re interested in my beauty, ‘The Silver Moon’ pendant?”

  “Yes, I am, very interested.”

  “Absolutely,” he said, as he jingled the keys looking for the one, of what looked like hundreds, to open the display window. He continued chatting. “I purchased the ‘Silver Moon’ when I was at a jewelers’ convention. I decided I had to have it, knowing one day the right person would come along and want it as much as I. Aah,” he exhaled as he picked it up, caressing its loveliness with his fingertips, holding it out to her, saying, “This is the one you wanted to see, uh…”

  “Margo. Yes. It’s spectacular!”

  “Would you like to try it on?”

  “Oh, yes, may I?”

  “Jillian, would you assist with the clasp so Margo may try it on.”

  Once it was around her neck, Margo couldn’t stop fingering it. The fire in the cut burst out of the reflection in the mirror like a million lights. She loved it and the way it nestled into the little hollow of her neck, as if it had been made just for her.

  “Is it all you thought it would be, Margo?” Schwartz asked.

  “Oh, yes, it’s, its perfect,” she said. “It looks as if it were made for me. How much is it, Mr. Schwartz?”

  “Well, let me see.”

  He picked up a pad of paper and a pencil off the display case, and touched his tongue to the tip of the lead pencil, saying, “I have it priced out at three thousand dollars…” he stopped, trying to figure out an amount where he’d look generous, but still be making a nice profit, “but for you Margo, I will sell it for twenty-seven fifty.”

  “I’ll take it,” she said with conviction. “Will you take a check?”

  She thought Schwartz was going to kiss her; he seemed to be delighted someone admired the pendant as much as he did.

  “Why yes, of course.”

  Jillian placed the necklace in a little bag, put it back in the box wrapped the box in fancy paper, and handed it to Margo.

  “Thank you for your business, Margo. I hope we see you again.”

  “I’m sure you will, Mr. Schwartz,” she said, with what she hoped was her most engaging smile.

  Margo left Port Rock with a fabulous piece of jewelry, at a good price, and perhaps a new man in her life. She felt he could be interested in her. She’d have to make a point of dropping in again, and soon.

  Nine

  Several weeks passed and Margo was avoiding McNulty’s Bar as if it housed the plague. There was no way she wanted to risk running into Rory Star again. Their last time together had scared her. She wasn’t sure if it was because of Rory’s excessive drinking, but he’d become way too sexually demanding, too rough, and wanting more than she ever was willing to give. She was actually afraid. If his drinking got any more out of control than that night, her life could very well be in danger. Margo vowed it would be a long cold day before she’d ever allow herself to be pulled into his orbit again.

  Margo put Rory out of her thoughts and threw herself into cleaning and rearranging her house. She surprised herself, actually doing a bit of decorating as well…a little paint here, some new curtains there, and prettying up her bedroom with a new spread, curtains and pillows.

  She decided to drive into Port Rock one afternoon, for a change of scenery and to look in some of the shops. There were a few more things she needed for the house.

  She dressed up a bit more than usual for her outing. It was different than just running to the local store for a gallon of milk. People tended to dress a little less casually in the larger towns. She put on make-up, even a spritz of her favorite fragrance, and made sure her new ‘bauble’ was on prominent display around her neck. Scrutinizing her reflection one more time in the full length mirror, she took notice of how the pendent fit so perfectly in the little cleft of her throat.

  “Maybe I should stop by to see Mr. Schwartz,” she mused aloud as she finished dressing, doing a bit of a twirl in front of the mirror. One more pirouette and an adjustment to her underpinnings and she was off to Port Rock.

  ~ * ~

  As soon as Jillian caught a glimpse of Margo walking by, she alerted Milo.

  He smoothed back his sparse, graying hair with a little comb, straightened his tie, adjusted his pin-striped suit jacket, popped a mint in his mouth, and took a deep breath, then with flare, tossed back the curtain just as the bell over the door chimed, alerting the proprietor someone had entered.

  As soon as he saw Margo, he immediately noticed the ‘Silver Moon’ pendant around her neck. Even though he’d originally purchased it for his first wife, he realized it had been made especially for Margo.

  “Why, Margo, what a pleasant surprise. How nice to see you again. I hope you’re enjoying your new piece of jewelry.” He clasped his hands together. “Oh, I see you’re wearing it.” He walked out from behind the counter. “I must say, it looks even more spectacular around your swan-like neck.”

  Margo batted her eyelashes just a little and said, “Why Mr. Schwartz, you’re too kind.”

  He could feel his cheeks becoming overly warm, and he said to himself, Am I blushing? Certainly I’m much too old for such silliness. Why is it Margo makes me feel like a teenager again?

  “Please call me Milo.”

  “Milo,” she said as she moved her hips a bit provocatively, placing her well-manicured fingers just right. “Aren’t you the sweetest?” she cooed.

  “Say, it’s close to lunchtime. Would you like to join me?”

  “Oh, I couldn’t, and have you take time away from your business?”

  “Jillian can handle things for a little while,” he turned saying pointedly, “won’t you?”

  Jillian looked a little perturbed. “And just when did you want me to take my lunch, Mr. Schwartz?”

  Milo could tell Margo had picked up on Jillian’s feeling of being pushed out and manipulated, as she said, “Milo, I know what it’s like to be stuck at a job with no one to relieve you for a lunch break or to use the facilities. Perhaps we could do lunch another time?” she cooed with a wink.

  He was a bit agitated and, looking from the one woman to the other said, “Well, er, well, if not lunch,” he hesitated and continued hopefully, “would you join me for dinner then, this evening?”

  “Why, how lovely. I have more errands to run while I’m here in town, so yes, I could meet you for dinner wherever you say.”

  “Do you know The Deck, on Rock Port Lake? I’ll be out of here by about five, and can be there by five-thirty.”

  “Oooh, how nice. I’ll see you there, Milo.” She winked, wrinkling her nose, gave a little wave, turned smartly and sauntered out of the store, her hips swaying seductively as she went.

  “Well, I never,” Jillian said, turning abruptly, tossing back the drape, escaping to the back room.

  Milo stood there imagining where dinner with Margo might lead. His cheeks hurt from the grin he couldn’t seem to get off his face.

  Jillian got her lunch, and Milo got Margo.

  ~ * ~

  Margo was perched on a bar stool at
The Deck, her shapely legs crossed, her skirt pulled seductively a little above the knee, as she twirled a nice, plump olive in her martini, when Milo arrived.

  He joined her at the bar, putting his arm around her waist. “Wow, you’re more beautiful each time I see you.”

  “Oh, Milo,” she sighed, bending over to embrace him, her shawl dropping away to reveal her amble cleavage.

  “I mean it. I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman. Has anyone ever told you, you could pass for Marilyn Monroe?”

  “You old sweetheart, what a nice thing to say. No, but I am flattered. Thank you.”

  “I made reservations for us at six. Would you like another? I see you’re drinking a martini?”

  “Why, yes, yes I would.”

  Milo called the bartender over and ordered two martinis with extra olives and would they mind bringing them to the outside deck.

  They sat on the glider swing, talking of trivial things, till their table was ready.

  Milo ordered cedar plank salmon. Margo ordered the same, after Milo’s rave endorsement of, “it’s the best I’ve ever had.”

  During dinner, the two talked about their lives. He asked her about any previous marriages, and was surprised there’d been three. He wondered if she’d been divorced long. Did she live in Port Rock, did she have children, etc.? What were her favorite foods, hobbies, and what was her birthstone?

  Margo had questions too. She soon learned he was a widower with two grown children who lived on the west coast. Since he had a business to run, he didn’t get out to visit often, and as they had families and jobs, they didn’t get back home, but only occasionally. He’d had his jewelry business for nearly thirty years and enjoyed his work. Milo not only sold jewelry, but his passion was designing pieces. He was also an avid outdoorsman and big game hunter. That really surprised her. The two hobbies were so diverse. Now that he was alone, he found he had more time for both. She found him interesting, to say the very least.

  Dinner over, Milo wasn’t about to let Margo go. “How about an after dinner drink out on the patio? We can listen to the sun sizzle as it drops into Rock Port Lake.”