“But that’s not the main thing. I’m an old-fashioned girl, honey. I want to wait until I’m married. That’s all there is to it.”
She seemed to be right—that was all there was to it. That was the trouble.
She snuggled up to me again. “I don’t really feel like talking,” she said. “Do you?”
“No,” I said. “Of course not.”
“We’ll wait then? Until we’re married?”
I nodded.
“Okay,” she said. “Then let’s get in the backseat.”
I opened the door and helped her out and into the backseat. Then I reached for her and she came to me and our mouths met as they always did—hot and hungry and demanding. I kissed her again, savagely.
She purred like a kitten.
Then I was undoing the buttons on her blouse, and my arms were around her. I pressed her close to me and kissed her. My hands caressed her soft flesh. I fumbled with the catches of her bra.
“Here,” she said. “Let me do that.”
She broke away and reached behind her and the motion made her firm breasts strain against the bra until I thought it would break. Then the bra was off and she was in my arms again.
“Rita,” I said. “God, I love you.”
She started to say something but I stopped her mouth with mine. I held her and stroked her and kissed her and watched her turn from a beautiful girl into a hungry, passionate woman in my arms, her eyes burning like purple fires into mine.
Then I slipped my hand under her skirt and she froze.
“Stop,” she said.
“Rita—”
“Stop!” She pushed my hand away and withdrew from me. “Jim, I told you—”
“I can’t help it,” I said. “I’m only human.”
“But I told you.”
I reached for her again, ready to tell her that I would try to control myself, loving her and hating her and wanting only to hold her close and love her.
Then the door opened.
He was about as tall as I am, but there the similarity ended.
He was built like an ox. His forearms were as thick as my legs and there wasn’t an ounce of fat any place on him. It was all hard muscle.
His hair was clipped close to his scalp; his eyes were small and beady. His nose looked as though it had been broken once.
He was wearing clothing that looked familiar. It took me a minute to recognize it.
It was prison clothing.
There was a gun in his right hand that looked like a cannon.
“Out,” he said. “Get out of the car.” The words came out in a snarl.
I glanced at Rita. She was clutching her blouse around her, trying to button it but having a tough time. Her fingers were numb with fear.
His lips curled into a sneer. “Don’t bother,” he told her. “I’ll just have to rip it off. Now get the hell out of the car.”
We got out. There was nothing else to do.
“Over here,” he said, motioning with the gun. We walked a few yards from the car into a clearing.
I said, “What do you want?”
He looked at me and smiled. Then he looked at Rita and the smile widened. She stiffened in terror. Her whole body shook.
“Guess,” he said.
I guessed.
“I don’t have much money,” I said. “But you’re welcome to it. And I suppose you’ll want the car—it’s not new by any means but it’ll get you where you’re going.”
“Yeah,” he said. He was still looking at Rita and I knew what he was thinking, what he was going to do.
He turned to me. “Chuck your wallet over here,” he said. “And don’t try anything. This thing works,” he added, motioning with the gun.
I took the wallet from my inside jacket pocket and tossed it to him. He caught it easily with one hand and flipped it open, counting the money.
“Peanuts,” he said. “Less than thirty bucks.”
“It’s all I have.”
“With the heap you’re driving, that’ll hardly cover the gas. And I bet it burns oil by the gallon.”
I didn’t answer. His eyes went back to Rita and I wished he would stop looking at her, wished he would go away and leave us alone.
“You’re nice,” he said to her. “It’s been a real long time.”
She seemed to go limp. I think she probably knew what was happening all along, but as soon as he said those words the full impact of it hit her.
“A long time,” he went on. “Too long. You got any idea what it’s like?”
I looked at him.
“You,” he said to me. “You know what it’s like being without a woman for four and a half years? Huh?”
I almost started to laugh. I felt like asking him if he knew what it was like being with Rita and not making love to her.
But I didn’t say anything.
“Naw,” he said. “You wouldn’t know. You wouldn’t know what it’s like sitting in a goddamn cell every night and going crazy. Sitting there forever.”
For a second his face seemed to relax. Then it went rigid again and he broke off.
“What did you do?” It was Rita talking this time. I wanted to tell her to shut up, to leave him alone and just pray he would go away without doing what I knew he was going to do. The words stuck in my throat.