home isn't good enough? Or is it you city folk. I heard tell you don't even know who your neighbor is? I hear that when folks get friendly, you think they're crazy. That true?'
Beth looked at Wilma with open eyes, seeing her standing there, looking hurt. My God, she thought, what am I doing? Fresh on the job and already I'm creating a bad impression. I've got to gain their confidence if I'm to succeed. She smiled winningly at Wilma. 'No, it isn't that at all.'
'Then what is it?' Wilma asked, taking the initiative, 'Now I don't know how long you've been sleeping in that camper but you can't tell me you wouldn't want all the comforts of a clean bed, a dryer, and your own bathroom for one night and have you believe me, honey, it's something else.'
'No, honest…'
'I ain't askin' you to move in,' Wilma went on, 'I only offered a little western hospitality, that's all. Wait 'til you see the kids gathering like little wolves around my kitchen door when I set my mind to bakin' pies. It be criminal of me not to invite them all in for a piece of pie and a glass of milk.'
Beth laughed and said, 'I'm very sorry, I'm so tired I wasn't thinking straight. I'd be delighted and Battered to spend the night at your house.'
Wilma put her arm around her and squeezed her tight as they walked. 'Judd says I'm too friendly with everybody. Maybe so, I say, I can't help it, it's what you married, big man.' They giggled as they walked together across the dark yard and up toward Wilma's house that sat away from the cabins and barracks.
Lonny and his friends had leapt away from the knothole when Beth and Wilma left the showers, carefully replacing the whorl of wood and then running Lonny leading the way, back to the Arroyo. There they crouched in the dark in a tight circle as Lonny, in an excited whisper, began telling them in detail, exactly what went on in the shower. He described the women's bodies in detail and surprised himself with an almost total recall of everything said. His friends huddled around him, passing a marijuana cigarette around, listening to his every word.
'Hot damn!'
'Hot damn? Hot pants, man.'
'Yeah, only they didn't have no pants on. Hot cunts. Right, Lonny?'
'Ha, I knew Mrs. Gans kinda leaned that way. My sister says she's always putting her hands on her and invitin' her in for a back rub.'
'Who's the other one? Who is she Lonny?'
Lonny took a drag on the cigarette, held his breath while they all waited, then exhaled in a gush and said, 'Don't know. Never saw her before. Stranger.' He smiled around at his friends. 'But I'm sure gonna see more of her. Let's get up to the Gans' place and watch us a show.'
Chapter 3
They had to make a wide circle around the camp to get to Wilma's house. The Gans' home sat away from all the other cottage, and barracks on a slight rise and Lonny and his stoned, horny friends didn't want to be seen going in a group up to the house. If they attracted attention, they might spoil the whole thing.
They were all flying on pot when they dropped into a drainage ditch and walked along it, skirting the camp. It seemed as if they walked for hours. To Lonny, leading the way, it seemed like they had walked clear out of the colony in the ditch, yet, when he stopped and climbed the embankment to look, he still had another hundred yards to go. He had been set tiny a fearful pace, the others panting to keep up with his relentless trot.
He was worried. It seemed like a lot of time had passed since they left the showers and he was afraid he was going to miss something. They threaded their way through a field, slowing down and growing cautious as they approached the Gans' house from the rear. Lonny thanked his luck. Two lights were on in the back of the house, one at either side.
A quick check of the first lighted window and they came and told them it was the kitchen with Wilma moving around fast, taking down two glasses and a whiskey bottle and pouring very generous drinks. Then she turned and walked into the darkness as the boys crouched against the side of the house and crept along toward the other lighted window. They arrived and Lonny peeked in the window and saw Wilma coming through the door, offering Beth one of the glasses. Lonny looked at Beth lying on the bed, pillows propped under her head, a ridiculous hair dryer on her head. She still had her robe on and Lonny knew what she looked like under it and his teenage penis jerked slightly in his pants. He had to know who this hot lookin' little bitch was, and, no matter what, he was going to get his share of her even if she was just passing through.
The boys took turns looking, Lonny crouched below the window, tapping each one's leg when he thought they had enough time, checking out the action between each looker. When it got good, he would take over. A careful check of the area around him told him it was an ideal spot. A berry bush grew behind them, practically hiding them with its branches reaching almost to the house over their heads.
Inside, there was a table in front of the window with an unlighted lamp on it and a potted fern. It was a perfect cover. They could peek into the room from the darkness, peering under the fern, and seeing everything. The bed was across room and neither of them were facing the window. The one little bedside lamp was perfect to see by.
The girl on the bed, the one with the almost perfect features, a kind of dark haired Grace Kelly, reluctantly accepted the drink, sipped at it and made a face. Wilma tossed hers off like it was orange juice and laughed at Beth's polite way. She made a gesture, holding her nose and tilting her head back. Beth tired to imitate her in a refined way and swallowed half the drink and choking with Wilma patting her on the back then stroking her body.
'Hey, you're sure not used to white lightning,' she said.
'I guess not,' Beth gasped, her eyes running.
'Drink up and then I'll give you a massage and you can drop off to sleep.'
'Oh, I'd love that. I don't know if I can finish this,' Beth said, holding up the half-empty glass. She wondered if all westerners drank moonshine from an ordinary drinking glass filled to the brim. She had never had so much straight whiskey at one time before she was glad she had come. The house was a delight, neat and clean and colorful, a real western home. She felt so good and clean and warm and already she could feel the white lightning spreading through her body, warming her and numbing some of her excited nerve endings. And Wilma, sitting next to her on the bed, tenderly massaging her body, felt so good. She smiled at her and Wilma blew her a kiss. She wanted to please her and belong to the group so she raised the glass and said, 'Down the hatch,' and drank the rest, choking it down and catching her breath.
'Wowee,' Wilma said. 'Honey, honest, it gets smoother and easier as it goes along.' She took the glass from Beth and said, 'How about a refill? A little dividend?'
'No, I couldn't drink anymore. Honest. I can feel it affecting me already.'
Wilma was about to coax or bully her into another drink when a high pitched whistle came from the direction of the kitchen. Beth looked surprised. 'What's that?'
'That's the water I set to boilin',' Wilma said, getting up. 'I'm brewin' us some tea to go to bed on. It's a special herb-tea folks brew around here. Relaxes you.'
'Oh, I'd love some tea.'
'Back in a jiffy. Don't fall asleep with that thing on your head.' Wilma hurried to the kitchen and turned off the stove and set up a teapot and took down a box of mistletoe tea. There was an excited, satisfied grin on her face. It had been a long time and the last woman she had was Jake Barne's wife. She had to be careful, if Judd ever found out, she was in trouble. If anybody ever found out, she was in trouble for there were nothing but small-town minds in the camp and most of the time they were so bored they were dying for something to talk about. Everybody knew about Jake Barnes and Tina down at the admissions office. Everybody, including Mrs. Barnes, cute little Dixie herself. Wilma had been most sympathetic.
Now, she thought, she had something great. The best thing she ever had. Yes, she thought, stirring the pot of narcotic tea, even better than Judd. She was going to give this little city girl a time she wouldn't forget and maybe it could work into a steady thing.
While waiting for the tea to steep, she poured herself a stiff shot of white lightning and gulped it down, feeling the alcohol click on a section of her brain in which she felt lewd and alive and excited. Quickly, she pulled off her
