The Hunt

go outside and wait.”

“Aw, Weezie . .

“Out, young man.”

Fred was sitting on the bench in front of the hardware store, as he always was on Saturday morning, chatting with Mayor Oglesby. Roger ran down the wavy, heat-buckled length of sidewalk to him.

“Weezie wouldn’t let Mr. Hobart do the dead chicken trick,” he complained as Louise brought up the rear.

“Aw,” Fred sympathized, “what a spoilsport.”

“Don’t you start,” she scolded.

“Tell you what, I suggest we go to the Dairy Foods and have a soda while Weezie’s getting her hair done. Then when she’s done we’ll go to Barney’s and have a hot dog and drop you by for the matinee at the Tivoli.”

“Yeah!” Roger yelled, jumping up and down even though they had roughly followed the same schedule every Saturday for the past six months. He looked up the street at the marquee of the Tivoli. Johnny Weismuller in Tarzan the Ape Man and Chapter four of Hurricane Express, plus “selected short subjects”—which meant a cartoon, too.

“Oh boy,” he whispered, “Tarzan!”

Louise rolled her eyes.

“It’s a jungle story,” Fred said reassuringly. “A lot of wild animals.”

“I know the movie, Fred,” Louise said with mock anger. “All right. I’ll finish the shopping and pick up the chicken after the show.”

“Hooray,” Roger said, then reaching up, he whispered to Fred, “Can we go by Mr. Bailey’s, too?” And Fred winked and nodded.

Saturday afternoons were special times for Fred and Louise. They deposited Roger at the matinee, finding out exactly when he would be out, then walked to her house, got her Buick and drove the three blocks to the small frame house he had rented. The house was one of the few that had a garage. it was attached to the house, enabling them to enter and leave without being seen by the neighbors. Since Fred frequently borrowed Louise’s Buick and washed it in his driveway, nobody paid much attention to him when he drove home in it. Louise sat on the floor in the front seat, often getting the giggles because of the charade they played to outwit the local gossips.

The Saturday “parties” had been his idea. Roger usually met Paul and Tommy at the theater so he was happy, and that gave them two hours together. When they got to the house, their lovemaking was frenetic and hungry. This Saturday was no different. As she crouched on the floor of the car she reached up, sliding her hand under his thigh and stroking the inside of it.

“What happened to that shy young lady I met nine months ago?” he wanted to know.

“She discovered what the word love really means,” she said, rubbing her head against his leg.

“And what’s that?”

“It means having fun. It means feeling sooo good.”

Dempsey had avoided the relationship with Louise Scoby for several months but eventually he was drawn into it. Roger had adopted him quickly as a father figure and as their friendship grew, so did Dempsey’s relationship with his sister. There was a danger that, in this small town, marriage would be inevitable, but Dempsey finally dismissed that notion. The idea of marriage did not appeal to him but he would worry about that when he had to. In the meantime, she had proven to be a furious and passionate lover.

Once inside the house, a demon seemed to be released in her. She had suppressed her desires for years, acting as mother and sister to Roger and daughter and mistress of the house to her father. None of the men in the town appealed to her, she had known most of them since childhood. Then Fred Dempsey had sneaked into her life. It was natural for Ben to invite his new employee home to dinner. Roger wasn’t the only one who had taken to him immediately. She had secretly been attracted to him the first time he came over. But he was shy, a very private man who took the bus to Chicago to visit his ailing mother once a month and rarely talked about himself. Even his opinions seemed guarded and noncommittal. But when he talked about art and books or the theater or music, she was drawn immediately to him, sensing the same repressed passion within him that she had endured since puberty.

The first time they had made love was in the backseat of the Buick out beyond the railroad switching station. They had avoided it for weeks, their petting getting more impassioned every time they were alone together as they explored and touched and were lost in the ecstasy of discovery. Finally she had suggested they get in the back. The moment he closed the door she had unbuttoned her blouse, baring her ample bosom to his hungry kisses. Then he had touched her and he had taken off her panties and guided her hand to him. It had all been done in such a rush that she still only remembered parts of her first seduction. She remembered only that he was considerate and gentle, that she had enjoyed every moment of it and had almost fainted when she had her first orgasm.

The moment they entered the house she threw off her blouse.

“Let’s take a shower together, I’ve been thinking about it all week,” she said, taking his hand and leading him up the stairs to the bathroom. But when they got there and he started to undress her, stroking her flat stomach and teasing her breasts, she frantically took down his pants and once having freed him, pulled her to him.

“Do it now, right here,” she breathed and he lifted her and sat her on the edge of the sink and stroked her until she began to moan and stiffen and when he cried out, he entered her.

Dempsey lay on his back with his eyes closed, relaxing. They were both naked. Louise sat cross-legged on the bed at Dempsey’s feet, rolling a cigarette. Dempsey liked to roll his own, preferring the sweet taste of Prince Albert tobacco to harsh cigarette tobaccos, and Louise had become a superb cigarette maker. She held two of them up, one in each hand.

“Beautiful,” he said. “You’re becoming an expert in all my vices.”

She lit them, keeping one and putting the other between his lips. He took a deep drag and let the smoke ease out slowly toward the ceiling.