But there was no time for her to worry about that now. Glancing wearily up at the kitchen clock, Sharon realized her mother would be home soon. No, she had to clean up, to pretend everything was normal. And that would give her time to think, time to come to terms with what had happened to her and what she would do.
The hours dragged by that afternoon and evening. Janice cooked a small dinner, then served her silent daughter, eyeing Sharon and wondering why the normally vivacious girl was suddenly so quiet. The teen played with her food, shoving her fork around the plate listlessly, washing it down with milk, then asking to be excused. Was it the flu? Was it something else Janice felt she should know about?
An attack of guilt made her stomach tense as she gathered up the dinner plates to carry them into the kitchen. There in the doorway, she stopped, catching, the reflection of herself in the kitchen window. Yes, she was attractive, very attractive, as pretty as her daughter. Hank went after her, got her. Perhaps someone had landed Sharon, as well.
'No, what am I thinking of?'
Janice pursed her lips together, shaking her head from side to side as if to cancel that horrible thought. No, the fault of sex lay with her, not with Sharon. The girl was too inexperienced to be having an affair with men just yet. For heaven's sake, she had just put her dolls away only months ago… or so it seemed! No, Sharon wasn't plagued with problems of sex… thank God!
Janice felt a nervous shiver ripple up and down her back as she drew the dishwasher door down to slip the utensils inside. Inexperienced. She had been that way at one time, a young girl who knew nothing, except for the vague, veiled tales her mother had spoken of the night before her marriage. How sheltered her mother must have been during all those years with her father. How had they ever enjoyed themselves? Her own marriage had taken off slow. It was only with Jack's patience and kindness that she had finally learned about climax, about all the various positions that brought so much pleasure.
Closing the dishwasher and turning it on, Janice folded her arms over her tits, feeling the warmth of the cleansing water through the drawer radiate through her dark-blue shorts. Jack. There was a lover: kind, generous, hot. Then the image of Hank drifted into her mind, pushing Jack's face away. The smile dropped and a shiver made her flesh crawl. That monster, that… that horrible man! And yet he had touched something in her, struck a chord that made her body and soul tremble with delight.
Walking slowly from the kitchen, Janice waved one hand in front of her as if she could erase all that had happened to her. She had encouraged him to come over. Yes, that was true. He was right to accuse her of that. When the Harringtons had moved in, Janice saw right away that Mrs. Harrington was in no, shape to satisfy her husband. She seemed more a reclusive, sick nun than a wife. And Hank, well, he was crude, vulgar, but vital, every inch of him radiating masculinity. And there she was, widowed, wanting the touch of a man so much, the touch Jack had taught her to desire with every ounce of her being. Yes, she had purposely wagged her ass around that yard, wearing as revealing an outfit as possible without causing an outright scandal. She had seen the disapproving looks from nearby neighbors who guessed her scheme. But Mrs. Harrington didn't seem to mind. Indeed, she seemed relieved for the attention Janice was receiving around the house. Then came that fateful night when Hank took her into the garage and… the rest was history. But only afterward did Janice realize the truly sadistic streak running in him, a streak that soon took over every action. Now she was trapped, cornered by him and her own sexuality that wanted more of his kind of lovemaking!
'I need a drink,' she breathed to herself, walking a little unsteadily into the living room. He had threatened to fuck her daughter.
Was that bravado, or had he really had his eye on her? Sitting on the tall, leather-covered bar stool, Janice thought of that as she reached for the bottle of vodka and poured herself a tall, cool vodka tonic. She realized she was feeling something like possessive jealousy as she picked up her drink and took a long swallow. The burning sensation down her throat seemed to calm her nerves somewhat. Jealousy? That was absurd. No, she was more concerned about her daughter's safety, about having Sharon exposed to the same kind of horrors she both feared and wanted.
God, another attack of horniness. She hadn't been to bed with Hank for three days. That was something of a record with them. After that night in the garage, he had been coming over regularly. Either that, or she would slip out without Sharon's notice, tiptoeing through the bushes over to the garage, then fucking him on that horrid little sofa in the corner. How she feared that his son or wife would suddenly barge in and find the two of them in a wild embrace. It was only last night that he revealed his true colors, beating and roping her, and telling her there would be more in store. More?
Janice took another sip of her drink, listening to the light tinkle of the ice against the glass. It was then she realized, that her fingers were trembling. With excitement, with anticipation? Another sip, this one calming her nerves even more.
Mechanically, Janice began rubbing her wrists, looking down at the places where those bonds had been. She could still feel the silk of the bathrobe belt, the pull of the pantyhose as her body was bent back in that horribly awkward position. It had given her the feeling of complete helplessness. And that had some how increased her sexual excitement. It was all so mixed up. Janice couldn't figure it out, wasn't sure if she wanted to as she finished her drink and began to prepare another. Just as she was dousing the melting ice with tonic, the phone rang, the jangling making her hair stand on end.
'Yes?'
There was some hot breathing as a response. Hank. She knew it, could feel it in her bones. A rush of chilly heat flashed through her body as Janice leaned against the wall, twisting the plastic-coiled phone cord in one hand.
'It's been a long time, baby. I wanna get that thing into you, know what I mean. The wife's asleep. Come on over.'
Hank's mating call! Still, in spite of his crudity, it made her burn with desire.
'No, my daughter's upstairs and… and I don't think I should see you, Hank. I mean…'
'I mean things went too far the last time and…'
Janice couldn't finish the last sentence. She felt the big man's anger, felt his overwhelming desire to strike her for that attempted defiance. Biting down on her lower lip, Janice twisted the phone cord more frantically, wishing she had the courage just to hang up the phone and get on with her life.
'I said you was gettin' that ass over here now! Now don't gimme any lip, or I'll come over there and fuck the shit outta you right there in your living room with the Goddamned door open. You can let your precious daughter see you then, along with half the neighborhood,' he threatened.
'All right, all right,' she replied breathlessly, feeling the receiver get all sweaty against her ear. 'I'll be right over.'
The garage! Putting down her drink, Janice turned and peered at herself in the mirror. She was still attractive, pretty even. She should be dressed in furs, going out to the finest restaurants with a sophisticated man, not slinking around in backyards to fuck around in some dirty, greasy garage.
But still, the woman went, first going to the foot of the stairs and calling up softly to her daughter. No answer. Good. Sharon must not have been feeling well and went straight to bed. Inhaling a deep breath, Janice turned, then walked quietly into the darkened kitchen, pausing only for a moment at the rear door. Some force, some horrible dark force was stirring in her now, making her pulse race and her heart quicken as she stepped into the night air and walked toward the bushes separating her property from the Harrington's.
CHAPTER SEVEN
'No, oh, no, what… what are you doing to me?'
Hank said nothing as he held the thirty-inch length of half-inch rope in one hand and doubled it to check its strength. He had already done enough.
Chains and cuffs! This was something straight out of a medieval castle! When she had walked into the garage, Hank had subdued her quickly, pulling off her shorts and blouse, panties and bra, then shoving her toward the center of the building. At first, Janice had thought he was going to fuck her right then and there on the greasy floor. But the big stud had other, more spirited plans for Janice. Struggling against his big, restraining hands, the
