Sally and Duke

Chapter 1

I wonder why it is, Sally Denham thought quizzically to herself, that nothing in life ever turns out quite the way you think it will? Take me, for instance, a born and bred New Englander-what am I doing in Quiggville, Tennessee? I'm not even sure I like the South (perhaps 'approve of' was more the term), yet here I am practically committed to spending the rest of my life here! Once Ray gets his partnership we'll be committed for sure.

Funny, how the expression had slipped into both their vocabularies so that one or the other of them seemed to use it several times a day.

Once we get the partnership. Will our lives really change so radically, and for the better, when the magic day comes? As a matter of black and white practicality they would. We know what the drugstore grosses every year, and the net. Half that net will be ours… not just a salary. A salary that was far too low considering what pharmacists were making elsewhere, even taking into account that this apartment over the store was thrown in free of rent and utilities. Ray, of course, wouldn't see that he could be making twice as much in Knoxville or Nashville, or anywhere else in the country. And as Sally pointed out, that they could save the necessary capital twice as fast.

"But then I wouldn't get this chance, the option that I have by working here!"

"Do you mean an option in writing, like on a piece of property?"

Sally's pretty brow wrinkled slightly.

"No, not an option in the literal sense. I meant the agreement between me and John Blodgett that I can come in as a full partner."

"And you have only his word on that?" the tiny furrows creased deeper and her clear grey eyes were disturbed, "No witnesses or anything?"

"Honey, that's the way business is done in small Southern towns… just by sort of talking things over. When the time comes, we'll draw up some kind of agreement. You have to remember that things are slow-paced here."

She would grant that. Things were snail-paced in Quiggville, in fact, and if it wasn't for the appointments of her piano pupils she often would not know what day of the week it was. Yet to see Ray so happy and absorbed in his work was worth it all, she felt. Traditionally a wife was the helpmate of her husband and should make the sacrifices and endure the necessary hardships to give him his start.

When they had met on the campus, Ray had made his prospects clear from the very beginning. His parents were dirt-poor farmers from the mountain area of Tennessee and he was attending school through a scholarship and money he had saved while in the army. Sally was not wealthy by any means, but certainly better off financially and in family background. They had married during their senior year and moved to Quiggville right after graduation. Ray had been recruited with glowing promises by John Blodgett… he needed a pharmacist immediately; the old man who had the job had died and the local residents had to go ten miles to the county seat to have prescriptions filled. In answer to Ray's questions about a share in the business he said he would be willing to take in a partner as soon as Ray could raise "a little cash to bind the deal" as he was occupied with other business interests and did not like to work in the store himself.

Sally never forgot her first look at Quiggville. It was little more than a crossroads, actually, with a square in the center of town where the roads met. The important stores and churches were located on the square, with a grassy park and the Confederate monument in the center.

Stretching beyond that were a few blocks of houses in each direction along the shady quiet streets… and then the shabby, haphazardlyplaced houses of the black people. A half-mile out of town was a new subdivision of rambling brick homes where the younger business and professional people lived and entertained each other with rounds of barbecues and cocktail parties.

The social position of the Denhams was not yet clearly defined. Ray had joined the Jaycees and Sally had been invited to some women's meetings, but they were not really "in", another fact which she found galling. Of course it was difficult to accept invitations or to entertain because of the long hours Ray worked and their shabby old apartment. Sally had painted and done a lot of fixing, but it was still dreary and depressing with its old-fashioned high ceilings and antiquated plumbing fixtures.

When they got the partnership they would buy a lot in Hickory Acres-their credit would be good then for a home building loan from the local bank. And they could afford to have a baby.

If we're still sleeping together, she said to herself. Oh, God, what makes me think of things like that? Of course we'll be sleeping together… we're husband and wife, and that's one of the most important things about marriage, isn't it? Yet after a year and a half together, the inexorable truth was that their sexual relationship was getting worse, not better. Since they had settled into the routine of their life in Quiggville, particularly, Ray initiated the sexual act less and less frequently. Sally never made advances to him, of course; she felt that was the man's prerogative and in any case her own sex drive seemed to be rather low… she could live with or without it… actually it was just a little bit distasteful to her, the whole messy thing. But she did worry about Ray's satisfaction and whether it was normal for him to so often be too tired or preoccupied.

Just last Sunday afternoon there had been a peculiar episode. She had been washing the lunch dishes while Ray sat in the living room reading the paper. Sally had not heard him enter the kitchen until the moment when he seized her around the waist. Of course she screamed and then laughed and they stood there together for a moment. Then Ray's hands had slipped upward to cup her firmly rounded breasts and she felt his lips nuzzling the back of her neck as he squeezed and kneaded the pliant, resilient flesh under his fingers. It wasn't that she didn't like to be caressed in that way, but her hands were wet and soapy and she didn't want to ruin his clean shirt… they were going for a drive as soon as she finished the dishes.

So she had continued with her work and acknowledged his presence only with a brief affectionate smile tossed over her shoulder at her young husband. He had kept his hands on her breasts and pressed closer behind her until she was wedged firmly between his body and the sink and his loins were up tight against the ample spheres of her buttocks. Suddenly she was uncomfortably aware that Ray had an erection and the hard throbbing bulk of his penis was pressing into the crevice at the end of her spine. Perversely, her only reaction was annoyance.

Why on earth, at such an inappropriate time? A peaceful Sunday afternoon and they were almost ready to go out. She set the last saucepan in the drain and pulled the plug, still pretending not to notice Ray's obvious arousal although his penis was now digging into her to the point of widening the split between the two soft fleshy cheeks of her buttocks. His hands slipped from her taut-stretched nipples and began to work up under her apron, massaging her flat little belly while from the rear he slowly rubbed his loins against her with insinuating pressure.

"Sally," his warm breath stirred in her left car, "let's go in the bedroom, honey!"

"Oh, Ray…" she protested gently, "here I've been hurrying to get ready while you read the paper, and now you want to fool around."

"Who's fooling around? I mean business, I'm horny as hell!"

"Ray!" she hated that vulgar expression. "I just don't understand why-I mean, of all times," it was difficult to hold her voice steady when his fingers had reached her pubic mound and were moving over the sensitive area in a slowly rotating motion that despite her annoyance was making her feel curiously weak and warm up between her legs. At that moment the wall telephone rang.

"Damn it to hell!" her husband cursed with surprising ferocity.

Sally twisted in his grip, "A-aren't you going to answer it?"

He shook his head and resumed his lewd probing of his wife's trembling loins. "It's my day off."

"But it may be a customer needing a prescription."

The phone kept on ringing insistently as the young couple stood there locked in an obscene embrace with Ray's hand thrust up between his wife's legs. Then, abruptly-almost roughly he released her and pushed her away as he moved to snatch the telephone receiver.

It was a customer, a heart patient, who had just discovered he was out of the digitalis pills he must take daily.

"All right," Ray said wearily, "Come down to the store in about fifteen minutes. No-no free delivery nights or Sundays, only during regular store hours. You can send a taxi if you don't feel like coming yourself, Mr. Pickett."

Sally was already busy drying her hands. "We could drop the pills off … we'll be out in the car anyway," she whispered to Ray, but he was already hanging up. She carefully avoided looking at the front of his slacks where she knew the tell-tale bulge still pushed out the fly in an incongruous manner. He was glaring coldly at her.

"Be damned if we will. If he took his last pill yesterday, why couldn't he come in then for a refill? Because he enjoys making a big emergency deal out of it!" He strode angrily out of the room and she heard him go noisily down the stairs to open the drug store.

Poor dear, he'd been working entirely too many hours, and should at least have one day of rest in the week. It seemed so unfair that John Blodgett should reap all the profits of the drug store when he did nothing more than go over the books occasionally, while Ray was on his feet from nine to six with an additional three hours on Friday night.

And nearly every evening there was a call for a rush prescription, usually a child suddenly taken sick. There was of course Minnie, the efficient spinster who clerked in the front of the store and supervised the moronic teenagers who came and went at the soda fountain. But the burden of the purchasing and inventory, as well as the busy pharmacy department, fell on Ray.

When they finally did set out in their old hardtop, however, his usual good humor seemed to have returned. They had long since explored every road leading out of Quiggville, for these rides were their chief recreational outlet, but still it was interesting to observe the countryside at different seasons of the year. The spring was Sally's favorite time… it was so much more lush than a New England spring and came a full two months earlier. Now, at the end of a dry summer, there seemed to be a dusty haze in the air and a sleepiness had settled over the scorching red-clay fields.

They drove first to Hickory Acres to inspect the newly-staked-out lots in the undeveloped portion of the subdivision.

"Someone's bought the corner one," she touched her husband's arm and pointed to the sign which was slashed diagonally by a bright yellow strip bearing the letters SOLD.

"Yeah… so I see. But that's the only one. They're not moving so fast, what with the recession…" Ray was careful not to voice their unspoken fear that the lot of their choice might be purchased by someone else first. They got out of the car and went through the ritual of pacing off where the house would sit and where the front door would be.

The rest of the day Sally remembered had gone quite smoothly. They had a light supper and spent the evening watching TV. When the late news came on Sally had gone ahead and showered as she liked her shower or bath at night whereas Ray preferred one in the morning. When he came into the bedroom she was already in bed, with only the sheet pulled over her. In her fresh cotton baby-doll nightie she looked like a child, except for the outline of her high curving breasts that protruded provocatively over the fold of the sheet and faint dip of the "vee" between her legs where the light material bunched.

Ray stripped in a rapid, business-like way and stood naked beside her for a few seconds; he never wore pajamas… it was a habit she simply could not talk him out of. In the brief interval before his hand touched the light switch and plunged the room into darkness, Sally's wide grey eyes rested lovingly on his tall, lanky form. She did love every inch of him, from the black hair that had a habit of falling over his right eye, to his big-boned hands that could be so gentle, right down to his size twelve feet! (In her mental inventory, Sally passed hurriedly over her husband's genitals which now hung down flaccidly between his hairy legs but were still impressive in their proportions.) She snuggled closer to him as he climbed into the bed and stretched out beside her, almost positive that they would make love tonight since he had been so eager for sex that afternoon. She was determined to try very hard to enjoy the act this time… yes, even the last of it when he filled her with his messy, sticky cum!

But Ray seemed to have entirely forgotten about the incident and apparently sex was not on his mind tonight. He lay on his back for a few moments, then rolled over with an affectionate pat delivered to her backside. "G'night, honey."

"G-goodnight, darling," she whispered back timidly. She felt surprised and oddly tense as she lay there beside his warm naked body and almost wanted to reach over and stroke him or somehow indicate her willingness. She didn't want to make any brazen announcement, however, and after a while she knew by his slow deep breathing that Ray had fallen asleep.

She really couldn't imagine why she was dwelling on the events of last Sunday… except it seemed to mark some kind of turning point in their deteriorating sexual relationship, as though her rejection that afternoon had really discouraged her husband. But that was absurd, they were still practically newlyweds and only needed time to make these adjustments and solve whatever problems had arisen. It wasn't a problem in as far as she was concerned… although she found sex disappointing and not very enjoyable at best, she would go through with it a reasonable amount of times for Ray's sake. She and Ray might have different temperaments, but each respected the other's desires and interests. For instance, Ray had not wanted her to give up her music and had bought an old upright piano for her to practice on and to instruct her half-dozen pupils. Why, Lord, she had a pupil coming for a lesson in twenty minutes, and here she was sitting around daydreaming!

She began to move automatically around the living room, straightening up.

In the drugstore below, Ray Denham had for once caught up on the list of prescriptions to be filled and they sat along the counter in a neat row while he worked on the wholesale orders at the old-fashioned desk.

Suddenly he heard a gravely southern accent from the front of the store and recognized it immediately as John Blodgett's voice.

"How 'do, Miss Minnie! You doin' all right?" and then without waiting for her answer, "Good, good!"

Blodgett breezed by the soda fountain with a lecherous wink at the clerk, "Honey, bring me and Mister Denham some cokes with lots of ice, child, lots of ice."

He eased his considerable bulk behind the prescription counter, "Hi there, Ray-you doin' all right?"

"Just fine, John," Ray said placidly, in the knowledge that business was good and getting steadily better. He pulled up a chair for the older man. Blodgett was sweating, staining his immaculate light blue sports shirt, and he took out a handkerchief and passed it over his ruddy face and thick shock of graying hair. He was a handsome man of about fifty, beginning to show unmistakable signs of overindulgence in good food and drink but still fit and powerful looking.

"Another hot one," he sighed. "We sure do need some rain awful bad. All my sweet corn is just dryin' up… just parchin' under that sun."

"Is that what you raise out there, corn?" Ray asked, waiting for his boss to come around to the purpose of his visit.

"Oh, I raise a little bit of this and that. Main thing, course, is my beef cattle. I'm just a gentleman farmer, and I guess that's a good thing, because it's hard to make money at farming these days."

The girl appeared with two large cokes and Blodgett nudged Ray's elbow.

"Look at that," he said in a husky undertone, "Just look at that sweet little ass on that child!" It was true that the girl's nylon mini uniform barely cleared her tender, youthful buttocks. Ray had actually been too busy to notice her nubile figure before. Blodgett opened the lower desk drawer and brought out a bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey he kept there. He added a generous slug of the amber liquid to each coke.

"Course you got yourself something a lot nicer than that right upstairs," he continued in an aggrieved tone, "Why, man, you're practically still on your honeymoon. But when you get to be my age you sure will appreciate those cute, raunchy little teenagers, let me tell you!" he pushed one of the drinks toward Ray.

"I don't like to drink in the store," Ray said doubtfully as he picked it up. "You know-old ladies come in and smell it on your breath, they spread it all over town that you've taken to drink."

"You're a smart man, Ray," John Blodgett said admiringly. "Yes sir, always lookin' ahead… a damn smart man. You know, I just got the bad news the other day that I'm gonna have to cut down on the brew myself.

Yep, just found out that my blood pressure's gone sky-high. Old Doc wasn't one bit encouraging… said I'm headed straight for a heart attack if I don't slow down and take things easy. Fact is, that's why I stopped by."

Ray Denham had a sudden premonition that something might be wrong, just from the way Blodgett's guileless blue eyes were roving over the shelves of pharmaceuticals and avoiding his face.

"It looks like I have to think about retiring long before I'm sixtyfive," the older man continued, "or sort of semi-retiring… I'm only going to keep hold of the properties that'll work for me without me working on them… see what I mean?"

Ray shook his head and waited to hear what was coming next.

"No, I reckon you don't. Well, take this store, for instance. Since you took over it runs pretty smooth, I certainly got to admit that, but there's still the bookkeeping and figuring the taxes. I want to get shut of it. Instead of taking in a partner, I've decided to sell out, Ray-the whole works."

There was a moment of absolute silence. Then Ray took a hefty swallow of the sweet, whiskey-laced cola. "T-the building, too?" Blodgett's stunning announcement had caught him so suddenly that it was taking him several seconds to assimilate the knowledge and what it would mean for him.

"Oh, not the building. You won't catch me selling a piece of prime real estate that's right on the square. No, I mean the inventory, all the fixtures, the good will… everything that's inside these four walls.

Then I'll give the buyer a long-term lease…" he smiled at Ray, "You know, I was really lookin' forward to us working as partners… carrying out your ideas for remodeling… but when I got the word from Doc I knew I just had to think of my health first. And there's Lauralee-I don't want to up and die and leave her a widow."

"Yes… sure," Ray said, his mind going inevitably to Sally's worried questions, nothing in writing? You only have his word for it? He felt curiously light and hollow, as if the support had been knocked out of him. How could he tell her? How could he ever tell Sally?

"Have you, uh," he cleared his throat, "Have you set a price?"

Blodgett settled himself firmly in the wooden chair and tilted the creaking piece of furniture back on two legs. "Well," he crunched the ice from his drink loudly between his teeth, "I'm thinking in the neighborhood of fifty thousand, Ray."

"F-fifty?"

"Think about the inventory. You know yourself what's sitting here in the inventory."

Ray knew. He also knew that much of it, including the last big drug order, was not paid for yet. Still-perhaps it was a fair price.

Although it seemed an astronomical sum, especially since Blodgett had promised to make him a partner as soon as he had $5000. By putting $200 in the bank every month, he had already saved $2800, he was more than halfway there… but now he wondered whether Blodgett would have held to the bargain, after all? "B-but, John, over the next few years your profits from the store will be much more than that. I can run everything-you wouldn't have to spend any time here at all unless you wanted to."

"There's something in what you say," the big man admitted, "Only the thing is, Ray, that I'll be spending my winters in Florida from now on … buyin' myself one of these condominium apartments right on the beach, and me and Lauralee are fixin' to go down there just as soon as I get everything straightened out here. Now those apartments cost a heap of money and I got to raise some cash… ever'body thinks I'm a real rich son of a bitch… I don't complain, but the fact is it's all tied up in real estate. Naturally we couldn't sell the farm-it's the old Quigg place, belonged to Lauralee's folks since God knows when-and we'll live there summers or whenever we take a notion to come back to town. And like I already said, I don't want to part with any property in the business district. 'Bout the only thing left is this drugstore."

"I see," Ray nodded, trying to control his wildly spiraling doubts and thoughts, "How much-how much time will I have, in case I could maybe make some kind of deal to buy the place?"

"That would please me very much, if you see yourself in a position to buy. Well, I hope to get down there to Florida around the first of November… so that leaves about two months. I, uh, I already had one offer, Ray, and they agreed to meet that price I mentioned. I won't say who the offer was from, but it's a big chain of discount drugstores."

As Blodgett sipped his drink and continued to unfold the story, Ray Denham felt a rising anger that blotted out caution and made calm speech impossible. "Look here, John," he pointed out, "You know I graduated at the top of my class. I had my choice of jobs and this was the lowest-paid of all, but I took it, for just one reason. I wanted to own my own business, and that's what you promised me-and I thought you'd be as good as your word!"

"Now hold on, son…" Blodgett tried to protest, but Ray plunged wildly on, raising his voice so that he could be heard throughout the store.

"Now you tell me that you've been dealing behind my back to sell the business right out from under me! Why, I don't think you ever had any intention of keeping our agreement; you just wanted to hire a cheap pharmacist!"

"That's enough, Ray," Blodgett's voice was still mild, but his pale blue eyes glittered with a cold light and his florid face had reddened to a deeper shade. He stood up. "You better simmer down before you say something you're going to regret later on. I know you're disappointed and I'm not sayin' you don't have maybe some right to be. But I had no way of knowing my health was going to fold up on me, so to speak. Why, when I brought you down here I was lookin' forward to us running the store for years to come, and I'll be very happy if you can raise the money to buy me out. You're well thought of here in Quiggville… you and your little wife… and if I was you I wouldn't want to spoil that reputation by gettin' all hotheaded. I'll be talking to you later."

He turned on his heel and strolled through the store in a leisurely manner as if they had discussed nothing more important than the weather. Ray stared after the retreating figure, his fists clenched unconsciously, until Blodgett passed through the front door. Then he reached for the bottle of whiskey, poured a double shot into his coke, tilted his head back and drank.

He was thankful for the sound of the faltering piano notes that could be faintly heard from upstairs… Sally had a pupil… he could postpone giving her the news at least for a little while. He didn't have to tell her at all today, of course, but he knew that he would. As much as he loved Sally, he wondered if it would have been better to wait a few years before marrying. A man had no business getting married before he was making a good income and could provide the things girls had come to expect. Why should Sally be penalized… not able to have a modern house with nice furniture and the latest appliances… or pretty new clothes? They'd never even had a real honeymoon, a thing which Ray bitterly regretted most of all. Because maybe their sex life would have gotten off to a better start if he had been able to take his inexperienced young bride to some romantic, relaxing spot for the first few nights. Instead of staying in some plush hotel or motel with a pool, they'd moved directly into a grubby little campus apartment that was as bad as the one they lived in now. Her folks had been very upset … they'd wanted the couple to wait at least until graduation… they hadn't given Sally any presents or any financial help at all except paying her college fees for the rest of the year. No, they hadn't wanted their daughter to throw herself away on some no-account southerner!

It seemed ironic now that the quality about Sally which had first attracted him to her was a sort of coolness about her… something that said "don't touch me." He was sure that Sally was one of the very few virgins on the campus, which had indeed proved to be the case.

Fiercely proud as he was, it was important to Ray that his wife should be a woman whom no other man besides himself had ever possessed… or ever would possess!

Once they were married, though, he had looked for a change in her standoffish attitude. He knew she loved him and had been eager to marry as soon as possible. He had mistakenly believed she was just as eager for the physical side of marriage, but from the first night, sex had been a fiasco… his bride seemed to turn into a lump of ice under him. Maybe it took more time than he'd realized, especially for a girl brought up in a very conventional manner as Sally had been.

Absently, he carried the empty cola cups out to the soda fountain. The girl reached out to take them, tossing the paper liners into the trash can and stacking the gleaming metal bases expertly on a shelf.

"Something else for you, Mr. Denham?" she inquired solicitously, her made-up dark eyes bright with curiosity. No doubt she'd overheard the row with John Blodgett.

"Uh, no… thanks," he stared at her. God, he couldn't even remember the little tart's name; she was new… long black hair fixed into an elaborately artificial set and a long slender body that seemed far too mature for her sixteen or so years. Ray ran his suddenly dry tongue around his mouth… it must be the whiskey… sweet little ass, Blodgett had said… Christ, it was a beautiful ass, perfectly outlined by the electrically clinging nylon fabric… and all at once he found himself wondering what it would be like to rip the skimpy uniform off the girl… spread her legs out.

Drops of sweat beaded on Ray's brow. Yes, how would it feel to ram his cock into that soft little belly? Christ, he groaned inwardly, how could he think of such things when he had a beautiful young wife upstairs at this very moment? He hadn't so much as looked at another girl since he married Sally.

Yet as he stood there in confusion, he was uncomfortably aware that his cock had in mere seconds responded to his lewd thoughts about the soda fountain waitress and it was now lying heavily against his stomach, fully erect. Turning hastily, he retreated to the prescription department. God, what would happen to his "good name" in this town if he started making passes at his clerks? As he sat there staring blankly at the forgotten list for the wholesale house, Miss Minnie suddenly entered the little cubicle, her face flushed with excitement. "Mr.

Denham!" she blurted, "He's going to sell the store, isn't he?"

"I-" obviously she knew something was up, so why evade her question?

"That's what he's talking about, yes."

"I knew it! I knew the other day that something was wrong. Mr. Blodgett brought some men from Memphis in, they was going all over everything … asking questions."

"When was that?" Ray inquired.

"Well, you wasn't here. Must have been the day you were in the city.

See, he made sure to bring 'em when you wouldn't be around!"

"Look," Ray said, "I'm sure it's as much of a shock to you as it is to me, Miss Minnie. More, because you've worked here a lot longer than I have. But I don't think you have anything to worry about. Whoever the-the new owner is, he'll need employees, and there's no one who knows the store like you do."

"Mmmhmm… and what about you, Mr. Denham?"

He shrugged unhappily. "I don't know. We'll just have to see. If I can't get at least part ownership, then I don't want to work for someone else. I can do that anywhere, for a hell of a lot more money!"

When Ray came upstairs that night, a half hour after closing time, Sally sensed immediately that something was wrong. It was in the defeated slump of his shoulders and the bleak gloominess of his face.

But she said nothing, waiting for him to tell her about it. She had fixed him a good dinner for the hot weather… cold sliced ham, snap beans, macaroni salad and cornbread. Sally was proud that she was learning to cook in the southern way.

But her husband only picked at the tempting food she loaded on his plate, and halfway through the tense meal he suddenly laid his fork down and announced to her, "Blodgett's selling the drugstore-to a discount chain."

"W-what?" Sally stammered, her heart plummeting, "But he can't do that, Ray! Where did you hear it?"

When he told her she kept on shaking her head in disbelief, "I just can't understand how he could do such a thing." She pushed her chair back abruptly and came around to her husband's side, taking him in her arms and holding him protectively against her warm body as if she were comforting a child, "Don't you care, Ray!" she said fiercely, "Don't you worry about it for one minute. Oooh, I never trusted him-that smooth-talking old hypocrite!"

She meant to soften the blow, to bolster his crushed feelings.

Unfortunately, her action and choice of words only brought home to Ray more strongly his feeling of failure. The husband should be the one to comfort the wife and shield her from life's harsh realities-not the other way around. And then to rub salt in his wounds she had to say that she had seen through John Blodgett all the time whereas he had been taken in by the glowing promises.

In fact, Sally's thoughts were racing rapidly into the future… her only sorrow was for Ray. Why, it wasn't the worst thing that could have happened, after all. They had money in the bank… now they could leave Quiggville and make a whole new start somewhere else… somewhere more lively and stimulating. But one glimpse at the desperately unhappy face of her husband sent these hopeful thoughts crashing into limbo. Ray had to make it here, he had to prove himself in exactly the way that he had set out to do.

"Darling," she said gently, "maybe we can buy the store. I mean how do we know unless we try? It is a lot of money, but everyone here knows you… Mr. Quigg at the bank is John Blodgett's brother-in-law, you know. I'm sure he'd consider loaning you the money… Mr. Blodgett could talk to him… why, everyone in town likes you!"

"That isn't exactly security for fifty thousand bucks," he pointed out grimly, "But… you're right, I guess. It won't do any harm to ask-we've got to know where we stand."

Ray did not fall asleep easily that night, but Sally lay awake long after he finally dropped off. It seemed that the crisis had awakened all her instincts… she was prepared to fight for her man, to do anything to insure that he got what he wanted. She believed she had an idea… although she'd never been able to bring herself to completely trust Mr. Blodgett, she must admit that his manner toward her had always been extremely courteous and friendly. In fact, he had treated her with real old-fashioned southern politeness and had been very solicitous about whether she was happily settled in Quiggville and liked his community.

Somehow she felt that… well, that she might have more influence with him than Ray would. Ray was apt to get hotheaded, as he admitted he had this afternoon. If only he hadn't really alienated John Blodgett, perhaps she could persuade him to change his mind about selling out, or at the very least enlist his aid in getting them a loan. He would not be so bluntly business-like with a woman, she felt, and she did not mind begging for Ray's sake. Yes, she must manage to see John Blodgett alone, and without Ray's knowledge of the meeting. God, Ray would kill her if he even guessed what she was thinking!

Arranging to see her husband's boss was not so easy, however, Sally Denham found. He did maintain an office over the bank, but it was a sort of dummy office. There was no secretary and you could never tell when Blodgett himself would be there. Sally took to watching the square from her front windows for a glimpse of the tobacco-colored station wagon that he drove.

Meanwhile she tried to persuade Ray that it would not do to present their case too hastily at the bank, they must be organized with all the figures on the store's volume of business, show that Ray was a capable administrator. Her poor darling had been going around like a zombie ever since that day he found out about the sale of the store. She just couldn't understand why it meant so much to him… after all, he was a young man, only twenty-six… how could anyone be a failure at twentysix? She supposed it had something to do with being poor as a child… wanting something other than farming… no doubt the business people with whom Ray's family had to deal, and beg credit from, had seemed to a child like the very pillars of the economy or something. Her own father, a moderately successful salesman, had never worried about working for others, but Ray had this craving, this obsession, to be his own boss.

On Friday afternoon before the Labor Day weekend she at last saw the brown station wagon parked opposite the bank and knew that here was her opportunity. At first she thought of telephoning to ask for an appointment, but she nervously dropped the phone back on the cradle after dialing three numbers. She hurried into the bedroom, unzipping her dress as she walked, and let it fall to the floor. She selected a sheer pale yellow dress that seemed ladylike and fresh, though a trifle short. Then she released her long ash-brown hair from its pony tail and hastily brushed it down over her shoulders. She realized that this made her look younger… perhaps, she thought, surveying herself in the mirror, she had gotten a trifle heavier since marriage, although it certainly had not harmed her looks. It only made the dress cling faithfully to every curving high-point of her figure. On the hanger it had seemed so demure and simple, but now when it was stretched over her high thrusting breasts and caressing her soft fluid hipline, the dress was almost blatantly sexy. It would do nicely, she thought, for the purpose of charming John Blodgett onto their side. She hastily buckled on white sandals, dabbed a touch of lipstick on her small, prettily curved mouth and picked up her purse.

She hurried down the stairs and out of their private entrance which fortunately did not open into the drugstore. God, it was hot… she would be perspiring before she had crossed the square! One of the things Sally disliked about Quiggville was that everyone knew your business, since everyone's business was transacted on the square-bank, doctor's office, finance company or whatever. Hopefully she would not be observed entering the side door that led to the rooms over the bank, although of course she had a perfect right to go there if she wished.

She reached the entrance without meeting anyone she knew and let herself into the gloomy hallway. The sagging old oiled wood stairs creaked beneath her light tread.

John Blodgett's office door stood open. Evidently he had been looking for something, as his desk was strewn with papers. As Sally reached his doorway he looked up, face blank for only a second. Then he smiled in welcome.

"Why, hi there, Miz Denham! You doin' all right?"

"Fine, thank you," she acknowledged, all her courage abruptly deserting her.

"Well, just come right in. You, uh, lookin' for me?"

"Yes, if you're not busy, I would like to talk with you for a few minutes." As she moved toward the chair he indicated, Sally nearly tripped over a big black and tan German Shepherd that had been completely concealed by the desk. "Oh!" she exclaimed nervously, and the animal raised its head and regarded her alertly although not otherwise moving from its reclining position.

"That's just Duke," Blodgett chuckled, "You 'fraid of dogs, Miz Denham?"

"N-no, I love dogs," she laughed self-consciously, "He startled me, that's all." She reached down to stroke the dog's glossy head. She had seen the magnificent animal before, usually looking out the rear window of the station wagon. Sally crossed her shapely bare legs and folded her hands demurely in her lap, looking directly into the ruddy, handsome face of her husband's boss.

"Mr. Blodgett, Ray-Ray and I are very disappointed about your decision to sell the drugstore. That's what I want to talk to you about. Ray doesn't know that I'm here… it was entirely my own idea to come… s-so I hope you won't say anything to him about it."

"Well, now, is that a good idea, for a nice little wife to keep secrets from her husband?" he drawled, but from his understanding smile Sally knew he was only teasing her. In fact, his easy-going informality was putting her more and more at ease, so she plunged on.

"No, of course it isn't, but I guess wives have always, interfered a little bit… when they thought it was necessary. You see, I understand my husband so much better than anyone else does. He's very proud-too proud to come right out and tell you how much he wants to own that drugstore, or at least be a partner. I'm sure you know that's why we decided to come here in the first place," she made this last remark rather pointed and then looked up anxiously to see whether it had offended him. Apparently not, for he was still smiling in a kindly way. He seemed to be staring at her legs and she shifted her position a bit in the chair and tugged her skirt down before continuing, "Ray is going to ask the bank for a loan, to buy you out. I-I'm sure that your … your help, your recommendation would be very, uh, persuasive to the people at the bank. I believe you're related to the bank president?"

"Brother-in-law," John Blodgett said, nodding, "Lee Quigg is my wife's twin."

"Oh, really-twins? I didn't know that."

"'Course that doesn't mean I can tell him how to run his bank," the big man pointed out, "but like you say, my opinion does carry a little weight."

"I'm sure it carries a great deal of weight," Sally said warmly,

"That's why I came to you. And also, of course, because I feel that I know you… a little, at least. I couldn't have gone to Mr. Quigg, for instance, with such a request. Will you help us, Mr. Blodgett?" Her grey eyes rested pleadingly on his face and she sat forward slightly in her chair, the movement deepening the dark shadowed cleft between her large breasts. Blodgett's gaze flicked downward and rested on those twin mounds that were quivering noticeably from her nervousness. God damn, he thought, but the girl had a pair of beauties! He could hardly believe that Ray Denham's snotty New England wife was actually sitting here in his office at this moment asking him for a favor. He had always dismissed her as unattainable, no matter how attractive. Now, a bold plan was rapidly taking shape in his devious, cunning mind.

"Look, Miz Denham-may I call you Sally?" She nodded breathlessly. "I want to help you, Sally. I sure-to-God do!" his husky southern voice oozed sincerity, "and maybe there just might be something I can do. But don't go gettin' your hopes up too high. We all of us business people in this town would like to see Ray running the store. After all, he's a Tennessean… practically a local boy. But these aren't the best of times, I guess you know that, and there's certain rules any bank has to be guided by in making loans. If you start bending those rules too much out of shape then the bank's in trouble."

"Perhaps," she said timidly, "if you feel there's no chance of our getting the loan, you'll reconsider selling and go back to the partnership plan?"

He smiled sadly. "I'm afraid my doctor would have something to say about that, and Lauralee wouldn't be too happy either. Now if you and I were going to be the partners, that might be different."

Sally was at first annoyed that he would joke about a matter which was so very serious to her. She looked at him rather severely and he stared back at her with a direct, disturbing gaze. Good heavens, he couldn't be… he wasn't suggesting… no, she could only treat it as a pleasantry, an inept one. So she smiled at him innocently. She had never really had the opportunity to study John Blodgett before at close range. He certainly did not look to be in poor health, nor old enough to retire. Although streaked with grey, his hair was as thick as Ray's and worn in modish sideburns. He was a large man and undeniably a handsome one and his oddly compelling gaze was raking her from head to toe! Sally felt the first prickle of discomfort, and feared that he had misunderstood her intentions in coming here. She had hoped of course to take advantage of her feminine position, but not… not by demeaning herself!

"Is there anything you can do for us? Have you any advice?" she asked, growing more uneasy every second that his now frankly lecherous eyes devoured her body. He smiled in answer, slowly and confidently.

"There might be, Sally," he paused to let his words sink in. "There just might be. Tell me what ever made a northern gal like you marry a no-account like Ray Denham?"

"What do you mean, no-account?" she blazed, getting angrily to her feet, "I love Ray!" The dog, Duke, stirred and lifted his head again.

"Why, there's not another man in this stupid little town who's got onetenth of Ray's brains and ambition!"

"Oh, I know all that," he answered mildly, "but he hasn't got any money, any family, any backing. You should have married a man with some position in the world."

"Don't underestimate us, Mr. Blodgett," she said icily, "Ray will have position some day, and I'll fight to help him get it."

"Uh-huh. And just how far are you willing to go, honey, to help your husband?"

"Wh-what do you mean?" her pretty face wrinkled into a frown as she tried to fathom the depths of his mind.

"Simple. I've got something you need-influence. And you've got something I could use. Yes sir, something I could make very good use of," his even white teeth flashed at her. "You're a regular little spitfire, but I admire a woman with guts-specially when she comes all tied up in a pretty package like you do."

"I'm afraid I don't understand you," Sally said coldly, beginning to move around the desk with her eye on the door. But her heart was plummeting. God, had she ruined everything?

"Let me make it crystal clear, then," Blodgett stood up, too. He turned around and closed the door, than faced the trembling young wife. "I like you. And after we got to know each other better, I think you'd like me. As for that husband of yours, I didn't like the way he shot his mouth off the other day and if I do anything to help him get the store it will only be because of his pretty little wife and how nice she is to me."

Sally had reached the door but found her path blocked by Blodgett's sturdy figure. Her heart was pounding wildly and her beautiful face was flushed with embarrassment and anger. "Let me pass," she snapped, "I can see I've only wasted my time in coming here!"

He reached out and seized her, drawing the full length of her body tightly against his and holding her there, immovable. Gasping with shock, she beat ineffectually at his chest with her little fists, meanwhile feeling his belt buckle digging into her flesh just under her breasts and further down, something hard that poked into her stomach and could only be… oh, God! She was enveloped in the pleasant spicy smell of his shaving lotion as he forced her face upward to meet his.

His open mouth enclosed her small lips and his powerful tongue inserted itself between her clenched teeth… pushing… pushing into her throat. With a muffled, strangling cry and with all her strength Sally succeeded in twisting away, ducking her head out of the reach of his lewdly thrusting tongue. At the same time she freed her right hand and slapped him just as hard as she could, so that her palm smarted from the impact.

"Ow!" he exclaimed. "Why, you little hellcat!" Instead of being angry, however, he was smiling… laughing down at her as though it was a huge joke. "You'll pay me for that, in spades," he promised, rubbing his reddened cheek. Behind Sally the dog, Duke, suddenly let out a sharp bark and she started with fright and surprise.

"Down, boy-stay," John Blodgett commanded calmly, grinning wryly at the terrorized girl, "You're damn lucky Duke didn't take a nip at your ass… he didn't know if we were playing or it was for real. I surely would hate to see anything happen to that cute little tail of yours!"

He was still holding her loosely and they were both breathing heavily.

"I want to see you… very soon… your place?"

"You're crazy!" she sputtered. "I never want to see you again… after this outrageous… this…" she couldn't find words to express her contempt for his behavior, "you just wait 'til I tell my husband about this!"

"If you want me to help you, those are the terms. Just call me when you're ready, Sally. Your place, or we can go to a motel… personally, I think your apartment is safer, but that's up to you."

"You… are… insane," she hissed, "I have no intention of meeting you anywhere. What you are suggesting is unthinkable-you're married-I'm married. And even if I weren't, the very idea would disgust me!"

"Oh, but you wouldn't find the experience disgusting, honey. I can promise you that you'll love it." His big hands began to move and before she had realized it Sally felt her right breast cupped by his widespread fingers, and reacted as though she had received an electric shock. She struck his arms down and reached for the doorknob, her eyes blinded by hot tears of rage. He caught her around the waist as she jerked the door open and passed his offending hand gently over the rounded swell of her buttocks, whispering hoarsely, "And remember this, Sally, if I don't hear from you, then you can be sure Ray won't get the loan!"

She fled at a dangerous speed down the old staircase, stopping in the hallway below only long enough to compose herself sufficiently to step out onto the sidewalk. The sunlight was blinding, the air oppressively still and hot as she made her way back across the square, defeated.

John Blodgett! She still could not believe it… John Blodgett, one of the most important men in town… he and his wife right at the head of the Quiggville social circuit… respected, admired. Ha! And he had dared to kiss her, in the most repulsive way, a suggestive tongue kiss … touched her breast… asked her to meet him! It was the greatest shock of her young life. The old lecher, yes, twice her age… oh, he hadn't come right out and said it in so many words, what he wanted… hadn't put a name to it. God help her, what had she done? And all she'd wanted was to help her adored Ray!

Sally reached the security of her own door, unlocked it with fumbling fingers and ran upstairs. She threw herself on the bed, still shaking and quivering although no tears came. She wanted to cry but could not.

She was too frightened.

From his dusty window John Blodgett had observed her progress every step of the way. God damn, he chuckled, look at that little ass sway … she sure is fit to be tied! Look at those legs… gal's got legs like a racehorse… Jesus, I bet she can pump those legs in the sack, too.

Little hellcat! He saw with satisfaction that Sally did not enter the drugstore, but went directly to the house entrance. No, she wouldn't be in a hurry to tell Ray about it… it was a hundred-to-one shot that she would tell her husband at all. Because the first thing he'd say would be what were you doing in his office? And Sally was smart enough to figure that out. Let it lay for a few days, just as it was. If the snotty little bitch was so crazy about her farmer of a husband, she'd be around. Yes sir, all he had to do was let it lay.

Still smiling, Blodgett reached down and patted Duke's furry head.

Liked her, didn't you, boy? We might just get ourselves a piece of that, Duke, how about it? Been a while since we had any strange cunt, hasn't it? He seated himself at the big old-fashioned desk again and resumed going through his papers. There was a lot of work to be straightened out before he left for Florida.

Every few minutes he would stop, however, and smile thoughtfully to himself at the way things were working out, falling into place. He had been trying for several seasons now to get Lauralee to move to Florida for the whole winter. She had proved stubborn on this point and so he had hit on the idea of saying the Doc wanted him to slow down.

Actually, Doc's warning had been nowhere near as dire as he went around telling everyone. His blood pressure was up a little… he should eat less, drink less whiskey, quit smoking. As far as retiring, John Blodgett hadn't worked an honest day for years anyway, and why should he? If a man had some brains and used them, others would do the work and he could sit back and count the money. Take Ray Denham, now, he would work hard, save all his money, and someday he might own a crummy drugstore! Well, if that was his version of the American Dream, let him go after it.

He had been just as poor as Ray at the same age, and look at where he was now. Of course, the Blodgetts hadn't been hillbilly farmers, they were real old southern quality and that still counted for something in Quiggville. If he hadn't come from a good family, Lauralee's grandmother probably would have had their marriage annulled. She'd been only sixteen while he was twenty-four.

That was the year after the war was over, and he'd just got out of the army and had come home to Quiggville to draw his veteran's unemployment benefits while he looked around for something to do. The Quigg twins, Lee and Lauralee, had been children when he went away… now they were seniors in high school and most of the town gossip revolved around the twins. Parents dead and being raised by their grandmother, a fool if there ever was one. Set out to make Lauralee a southern belle who would have done credit to the Civil War days-innocent, ladylike, sheltered-and naturally the girl had rebelled and turned out just the opposite.

Wild! Smoking at thirteen, using words nobody could figure out where she'd learned, and from the age of about fourteen on, putting out to anything in pants. Lee, the boy, wasn't half as bad as his sister but they were both hellions. They were both spoiled rotten and when they turned sixteen that spring, Grandma had to rack her brains to come up with presents they didn't already have. She bought Lee a convertible and promised Lauralee a trip to Europe. But the girl didn't want to go to Europe, especially since she had to wait until graduation and then go along with Grandma. When her twin got a car, Lauralee was furious.

Somewhere she picked up the basics of driving and was soon sneaking out in Lee's new car whenever she got the chance.

That Saturday night, John Blodgett had just come out of the theater and was standing at the curb. Quiggville's only traffic light turned red and he had started across the street when there was a squeal of brakes and a yellow fender dipped to a stop only inches from him. He started to swear, looked up, and the words died…

"Hi, John," Lauralee said. "I'm sorry if I scared you," she giggled.

"It'd be awful to go through the war and then get killed right here on the square, wouldn't it?" She was staring at him with undisguised admiration… he was wearing his tropical-weight uniform and the pocket was crowded with his battle ribbons. The two of them were suddenly a pair of animals, sniffing at the warm flower-perfumed night air in search of excitement. "Can I give you a ride someplace?" her little red lips parted expectantly.

He got into the car beside her, conscious even then that this might be a momentous evening although he did not know that it was going to change the whole course of his life.

Everything he had heard about Lauralee turned out to be true, and then some. He couldn't believe she was only sixteen, no teenager could possibly acquire the knowledge that was packed into her lithe, hundredpound body! They had gone directly to a roadhouse a few miles out of town, where Lauralee insisted on having beer. Evidently she'd also had something to drink before picking him up… she was not drunk, but pretty high. They sat side by side in a booth and suddenly he felt her warm hand on his thigh, moving purposefully upward until it stopped in the "vee" of his legs, cupping his balls. Jesus H. Christ! He nearly choked on his beer as he felt her fingers working down there at his loins… did she know what she was doing to him? A glance at her face with its wicked tittle cat-like smile told him that she did. She leaned over and put her lips against his left ear. "Ooooh, Johnny, have you got a big cock?"

He couldn't have answered her, his heart was beating clear up in his throat like a hammer. So he put his hand down over hers and drew her fingers upward. By God, his cock felt like it was bigger than it ever had been or was ever going to be again… it was throbbing like crazy and ramming against his pants like it was trying to get free… and into her hot little pussy.

"Oh, Lord," she squealed as her hand closed over him, "it is big, Johnny! Now, what are we going to do about that?"

"It's your fault," he told her, "I guess you better figure it out."

"You mean you don't kn-o-o-w?" she drawled in a teasing voice, squeezing his penis and massaging it up and down until he thought he'd go off right there and then.

"You little cock-tease!" he growled, shoving his hand between her legs.

Her thighs were smooth and warm and they clamped together over his invading hand, then very gradually opened to allow him to push farther up the forbidden split until his fingers encountered her panties.

Blodgett remembered feeling that maybe somebody ought to pinch him and wake him up… this had to be a dream, sitting here with the Lauralee Quigg… feeling each other up in full view of anyone who wanted to look and be God-damned if he could tell which of the two of them was the hottest. Lauralee's eyes had a glazed look and she was breathing fast and jerky… "Shall we get out of here?" he whispered.

"Yes!" she wiggled away from his obscenely probing fingers just as they slid under the tight elastic leg-band of her pants. She stood up and he had hastily thrown some money on the table and followed her. Lauralee had insisted on driving, but instead of taking to the highway she simply drove behind the roadhouse, right into a field. He thought the car would hang up in the soft earth, but she spun it under a big tree and right there is where they did it. He had wanted to put the top up in the convertible but Lauralee was too eager to wait… he smiled faintly, recalling that zippers were new in those days and the pants of his uniform had a button fly. Lauralee had the buttons undone in seconds, and she took his aching cock out.

"Oh, Johnny!" her voice was awed, "It is big. Lord, I never saw one like that… you'll kill me with it!" and she had bent over him, her long golden hair falling over his genitals, brushing against his heavily loaded balls while she kissed the tip of his penis and then ran her little pink tongue all around it like she was licking an ice cream cone. Groaning with his desire to get into this incredible little witch, he tore at her dress… pulling it down to expose her youthful breasts with their high, pointed contours and virginal tiny nipples.

Then he pushed her skirt up until her clothing was all bunched around her waist and the lower half of her sensuous body was exposed too, the brief panties starkly white against her slim tanned legs. Lauralee released his swollen rod from her warm wet mouth and scuttled backward on the car seat to a reclining position, her legs raised. Panting, almost sobbing, she helped him pull the panties off.

"Christ, Lauralee, you're beautiful!" he exclaimed huskily as he stared down hungrily at her nakedly exposed pussy. The pink cuntal slit nestled, almost concealed, beneath her short curling golden pubic hair.

"Oh, hurry, hurry," she was begging him, "I'm so hot I can't stand it!" and she took his lust-swollen cock in her hands and guided it toward her tiny cunt-hole. She had whimpered when he burst through the tight muscular ring, but had quickly become use to the bulk of him inside her and he had been too aroused by her wanton eagerness to exercise any caution or restraint. He had fucked Lauralee Quigg mercilessly, as if she had been a common whore and, God, she had loved it. Sixteen years old! He could have gone to jail for the things he did to her that night in the car… well, if it came to that he reckoned he could have gone to jail for a lot of things he'd done in his life. John Blodgett grinned humorlessly.

It had been very late when they had finally satiated each other and got their clothes straightened. Again, she had wanted to drive and he figured she was sober enough, although still a rotten driver. They were coming into the outskirts of town, down in the colored section, when it happened.

The streets were quite deserted, so that the last thing they expected was a white figure looming up suddenly in the headlights. Lauralee had jerked the wheel, but the right fender had hit the white object. The impact was so slight… yet it hurled the figure several yards ahead and it crumpled against the curb. Lauralee kept on going, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"What was it?" she cried.

He had tried to get her to stop, to go back. "I think it was a woman … a colored woman." She just kept on driving.

"S-she stepped out in the road! You saw her, Johnny! I-I haven't got a driver's license."

Luckily for both of them, he had kept his head. He told her again to stop and then he got behind the wheel. They did not go back to see about the woman, instead he went to his home and put the car in his vacant garage, his mother hadn't had an auto since the war. There was only a small dent in the fender, but to be sure he got several buckets of water and washed that side of the car very carefully. Then he drove Lauralee home. When they turned in between the brick gateposts at the entrance to the Quigg farm, John Blodgett deliberately scraped the right fender, crumpling it slightly and leaving yellow paint on the bricks. He explained to Lauralee that this was necessary to explain the damage, and that he would pay to have the car repaired.

It turned out that the victim was an aged colored woman with no relatives, and so not too much fuss was ever made about finding the hit-and-run driver. The state police did check on cars that required body work after the date of the accident, but readily accepted the explanation of the damage to Lee Quigg's convertible. And the following week, on the night of Lauralee's graduation from high school, she and John Blodgett eloped to Mississippi and were married.

The marriage had worked out well. Perhaps Lauralee's grandmother had seen that Blodgett was a strong enough man to handle her wayward granddaughter as well as guide Lee Quigg in running the various family enterprises. He had insisted that as his wife, Lauralee should conduct her sexual affairs with more discretion although he was aware that a woman with her insatiable appetites could not remain faithful to any one man. Well, he had his own appetites, by God, and he hadn't done too badly over the years either! If theirs had been the conventional marriage it would never have lasted, but he was smart enough to see that Lauralee was like a horse with the bit in its teeth-let her have her head and run, and she would come right back to the stable when the fun was over. No, he would never divorce her-for one thing, the Quigg family holdings were the base that lay under the considerable fortune Blodgett had built up-the real estate, the bank and the saw mill all contributed handsomely. The drugstore was only something he had bought up cheap, on a whim, mainly to get the building. He had no real interest in it and would be glad to see it go, once it had provided the cash for the sea-front apartment in Florida.

Whistling cheerfully, he selected the papers he wanted and placed them in his briefcase. Then he locked the others away in the desk and snapped his fingers at Duke. The well-trained animal rose immediately and padded silently out of the office with his master.

Blodgett entered the bank, nodding and speaking to various patrons as he made his way to the rear and walked directly into his brother-inlaw's office without announcing himself. The room was far more sumptuously furnished than Blodgett's dusty office upstairs, so that anyone who did not know better might suppose that Lee Quigg was the more important of the two men. However, in his dealings, it suited the crafty Blodgett to retain his poor-boy-makes-good image-the local people trusted him because it seemed like he was really one of them. He seated himself on the massive brocaded couch and drew up a silver ashtray.

"Hi, Lee. You doin' all right?"

"Can't complain," his brother-in-law said mildly, swiveling his leather armchair around to face Blodgett, who wasted no time in getting to the point.

"Ray Denham is gonna be over here one of these days to see you about a loan-he wants to buy the store, only he hasn't got any money."

"Well, are you selling to him?"

"Hell, no, you know that other deal is all wrapped up. But here's what I want you to do-stall him. Tell him all the usual… the Board has to approve all the loans… just stall him for a while, be nice to him."

Quigg went to the concealed mahogany bar and made them each a drink.

Handing one glass to John Blodgett, he said, "Can I ask why? Why don't you tell him right off that it's no deal? Ray isn't a bad guy, John."

"That wife of his isn't bad, either," Blodgett remarked with a low chuckle, "How would you like to get in there, Lee? You want to throw a good fuck into that stuck-up bitch, Sally Denham?"

Lee Quigg's thin, nervous face quickened with anticipation. "What you talkin' about, John? She wouldn't give either one of us the time of day."

"Like to put a little money on that?" the older man was an inveterate bettor, but as his wife's twin knew, Blodgett didn't bet unless the odds were heavily loaded in his favor… but Sally Denham? The piano teacher? This time he was overreaching. Blodgett saw the doubt and indecision of Lee's expression. "Five'll get you ten," he prompted,

"that I can lay her… and after I get her reamed out good, she's all yours!" He leaned back and sipped his bourbon, smiling.