"The Violated Virgin" - читать интересную книгу автора (Fulton Ward)

Chapter 6

The voice of the psychology instructor droned on, and Suzanne stared blankly up at the podium, only catching an occasional word he said. She had always liked her psychology class, not only because of the instructor who happened to be rather handsome, but because of her interest in the subject in relations to her project with the poorer classes in the neighborhood. Yet today she found her interest wandering, her mind too filled with other thoughts.

She suddenly became aware he was addressing her.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, feeling very foolish. "I didn't catch that."

The instructor smiled.

"I was saying that many people are under the impression that the poorer classes are more sexually active because it is the one entertainment that costs them nothing. Have you found anything in your recent studies to substantiate this theory?"

Suzanne flushed, and in her mind she saw again the three boys, naked in her living room, and her own body heaving beneath their attack.

"Er… Well…" she began, "I really haven't done enough research yet. But it sounds reasonable, don't you think?"

The instructor smiled. "Not necessarily. Statistics show that there is just as much promiscuity among the more affluent classes. I personally do not think that poverty necessarily means a higher rate of sexual activity. After all, individual sex drives are not predicated on economic status. However, the illegitimate birth rate among the poor seems to indicate that they perhaps do not have as much regard for the consequences of their actions, and do not invest in contraceptive devices to the same degree as the rich. One of the tragedies of the lower income groups is their unusually high family size, which only compounds their unfortunate economic position."

A student raised his hand.

"Perhaps the poor indulge in large families as a gesture of accomplishment," he said. "It is the one function they can perform without training. It's like they feel they might not be able to work their way up to a position of social eminence, or professional respectability, so they prove themselves biologically instead of intellectually."

The instructor laughed. "Interesting, but I don't think valid, in view of research. Most economically deprived fathers are more interested in satisfying their sex drive than their urge for social recognition."

The young man was not to be put off.

"What about the kids, though?" he persisted. "I've talked to some who feel they've really made it when they can ball a rich chick instead of someone in their own neighborhood. And there're lots of girls from Grosse Pointe who'll go with a guy from a poor neighborhood because of the kicks involved. You know, the idea of slumming, of being manhandled forcibly to satisfy some masochistic tendency."

"Ah." The instructor raised his eyebrows. "That's something else again.

True, many women will achieve greater sexual satisfaction from a violent sexual encounter rather than the more refined or sophisticated approach. And presuming that a young man from a rough neighborhood will be more sexually aggressive, there is the sadistic impulse to prove himself with a girl from a more refined background. And some girls will often enjoy such encounters out of a perverse streak in their nature, the desire to be degraded out of guilt for their affluent upbringing."

Suzanne felt a slow flush creeping up her neck, and then her face was scarlet, and she dropped her eyes, hoping that no one would notice or comment. Inside her, she recognized her own reactions, the feeling she had that morning in the bathtub as she visualized herself being violated by the three boys. Despite the fear, there had been a strong element of earthy satisfaction from the experience. She had enjoyed it, and she knew she would want it to happen again. Maybe not under the same frightening conditions, but definitely the physical reactions she found more than usually stimulating. And she knew it was because the boys were different from any she had socialized with before. Her Grosse Pointe boyfriends were knowledgeable in the social graces; their speech and manners were sophisticated; their enforced respect of her was a barrier to the type of harsh physical manhandling she had endured the last two days in her apartment. And yet despite their lack of refinement, they had touched a pagan spark buried deep within her, a spark now flaring with a consuming passion that excited her responses at the very thought of it happening again.

"Tell me, Suzanne, you have made contact with one family, I believe?"

The instructor was addressing her again. Oh, God, she hoped no one would observe her flushed condition.

She nodded.

"There have been young men in the family?"

"Yes, two brothers," she replied, a little hesitantly. "One is sixteen, I think, the other about two years older."

"Have you felt any desire on their part to deepen their contact with you, maybe an indelicate suggestion, or have they been keeping their distance?"

She flushed. "I… I wouldn't let them…" she began, and the instructor cut her short.

"I'm not intimating that you would," he said brusquely. "But you can tell whether there might be the desire on their part."

"I would think that perhaps they might," she said slowly. "But on every occasion I have talked with them while their mother was present.

They're not particularly well educated, though the younger one seems to have some promise. I feel he shows more potential than his older brother, who's just a little hood, I'd say."

The instructor smiled. "Thank you, Suzanne. We'll be interested in hearing more when you've completed your study of this family."

Suzanne smiled, and looked down at her books again. She felt humiliated at even having to discuss the boys, yet she knew it was only her conscience bothering her; no one knew about what had happened. No one but Yvonne and Carole, and she knew they wouldn't talk.

The class ended, and she stumbled to the door, thankful to get out of the close confines of the room and out into the fresh air. She took a deep breath and began walking back to her apartment. She saw Carole in the distance, and they waved at each other. Then as she turned the corner on to Hancock, she saw a familiar figure in blue jeans and a dirty shirt, lounging against the concrete abutment surrounding the campus. Her heart almost stopped, but she continued walking, biting her lips in fear.

"Hi, Suzanne," said Donald, his young face breaking into a broad smile.

"You okay today?"

"Yes, but no thanks to you," she snapped, walking past him. He fell into step with her, and she glared at him.

"Donald, if you don't leave me alone, I'm going to call the police," she said uncertainly. "And what's more, I'll speak to your mother about what's happened."

Donald giggled. "That won't help. Ted's already told her we screwed you."

"He… he what?" she gasped, stopping in her tracks and staring at him disbelievingly.

"It's true. He doesn't care."

"And you do, I suppose?"

He paused awkwardly.

"I… I like you, Suzanne. You know that, don't you? I'm really sorry about everything, but I still like you. I'd like to do it again with you, just you and me, nice and quiet."

"You're a degenerate, like your brother," she snapped heatedly. "So don't try and sweet talk me now." She paused, her chest heaving with emotion. "What did your mother say?"

Donald laughed. "She said he'd better watch out, that was all. She doesn't care. She's too busy makin' out with her own boyfriends. She fucks around quite a bit."

Suzanne gasped. "In your house? With you boys there?"

"Sure. What's wrong with that?"

"Well, if you don't know, there's no sense telling you," said Suzanne, pushing past him. "Goodbye, Donald, and don't try to follow me. I never want to see you again."

He stood still, looking at her retreating form walking quickly up the sidewalk.

"Hey."

She stopped, and looked back.

"See ya." He waved and grinned at her. With beating heart, Suzanne turned and almost ran the rest of the way back to her apartment. She let herself in, slammed the door, and locked it. Then she collapsed on the couch, her body shaking.

Oh, God, she murmured to herself, oh what'll I do if they come back?

She closed her eyes and rested until her heart had quieted down and her limbs had stopped shaking.

The gall of that boy! And telling their mother what they had done. What sort of people were they? Were they completely lacking in moral scruples? Had they no sense of decency at all? And yet he had confessed he liked her and wanted to be with her again, just the two of them. She was right. She had sensed a quality of tenderness in him before, and she knew that taken away from his brother, his mother and his environment, Donald could well shape into a worthwhile man. But did she care? Did she really care what happened to this teenage rapist who had forced himself upon her in much the same fashion as his brother and the colored boy? No, she didn't; but she couldn't deny the response she felt in her loins for him.

She was reminded of Yvonne's frank discussion about Jeff, about men's sex appeal and the size of their organs. Donald's penis was definitely appealing to her. Unlike the gross size and thickness of his brother, or Clayton's massive dark-skinned shaft, Donald's penis was smooth, white and sensual-looking. While he might not have displayed as much animal ferocity as the others, he had a technique which she found immensely satisfying, and the penetration of his organ was infinitely fulfilling for her. If she could only get Donald away from the others, away from his present environment… Suzanne shook her head and sat up, wiping her eyes. This was ridiculous, she thought; it was Sam she really wanted. Sam was the man of her dreams, the one she loved, and so what was this perverse fantasy over a slum boy whose only appeal lay in the seven inches of hard flesh he projected between his legs? Sam had just as much, she felt sure, and Sam would certainly be tender, gentle and when aroused, probably just as forcefully aggressive to appeal to her animal instincts. Yes, Sam it was; not Donald. But when the hell was he coming home? Oh, Sam, Sam…

She walked into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her burning face. She patted herself dry, and felt better. She went over to the desk, opened her books, and began to study.

The sun had just dipped below the skyline when Suzanne realized she had been sitting at her desk for several hours, absorbed in her work. The clatter of footsteps on the stairs broke into her thoughts, and she felt a pang of apprehension until she realized it must be a woman; the noise of heels was unmistakable.

"Hey, Suzanne, you home?"

Carole's cheerful voice rang out, and Suzanne walked quickly over to the door, unlocked it, and let the girl in.

"Wow, I'm bushed," she said, collapsing on the couch as Suzanne closed the door and locked it again. "How are you feeling today?"

Suzanne grinned. "Oh, I'm fine."

"Any sign of those monsters?"

"No, but I ran into Donald on campus. He must've been waiting to talk to me. He said he wanted us to ball again, just him and me."

Carole snorted. "I hope you kicked him right in the crotch."

"No, I told him if he didn't stop bothering me, I'd call the police.

But you know something? I threatened to tell his mother, and he said Ted had already told what happened, and the woman wasn't fazed at all.

Can you beat that?"

Carol shrugged. "Typical. These mothers are nothing but legalized whores. I've yet to meet one that has any semblance of dignity or decency. It's sad, it really is. I guess they're not much better than animals. It's a pity they can't be segregated somewhere away from the rest of us who know how to live a clean life."

Suzanne giggled. "Maybe so, but then there're some who might say the same about you and Yvonne."

Carole's eyes widened. "Oh, knock it off!" she exploded. "You're mixing apples and pears. Don't tell me you put me in the same category?"

"Of course not," said Suzanne quickly. "I was just trying to be objective."

Carole sniffed. "After last night, you have no basis for being objective, dear," she commented softly. She stared at Suzanne for a moment. "You're terribly nice, you know. In bed, I mean."

"Thanks. I can use a few compliments."

They both laughed, and Carole lit a cigarette.

"Jeez, I really am tired. Two classes today, and an interview about a part-time job."

"Tell you what," said Suzanne. "Why don't you and Yvonne have dinner here with me tonight? I've got a whole mess of stuff in the refrigerator. Come on, I'd love to."

Carole smiled. "Oh, you certainly know the right things to say at the right time," she murmured. "It's a deal. Yvonne'll be home soon. You plan to eat early? I'm actually starved."

"Whenever you want," replied Suzanne, moving into the kitchen. "I'll start right away."

"Okay," said Carole, rising. "I'll go clean up and put on my robe, and when Yvonne gets home, we'll come up. Okay?"

She went over to the door. "Hey, Suzanne, come and lock the door behind me." She giggled as Suzanne came into the room. "We don't want any unwanted company, now, do we?"

"You bet."

Suzanne locked the door behind her, and went back into the kitchen, humming to herself. She felt her spirits rising at the prospect of company. She remembered her thoughts the night before, seeing the closeness between Yvonne and Carole. Well, if she didn't have a roommate, at least she'd be having some good company, and she looked forward to a good dinner with pleasant conversation and afterwards…

Suzanne grinned to herself wickedly. Who knows? She thought maybe afterwards they might all roll into bed again. It was fun, she had to admit; it was real fun, and wonderful sex. Just at the thought, she felt a twinge within her and a tingle in her loins. Yes, it just might be a wonderful evening again. She licked her lips in anticipation.

Efficiently she took a canned ham off the shelf, opened it, and placed it in a casserole, covering it with a small can of sliced peaches and a few cloves. She popped it into the oven, and then paused a moment, looking at the boxes of frozen vegetables in the freezer compartment.

She decided on peas and cauliflower and broke open the packages, placing the vegetables together in one large pan, filling it with water and placing it on the top burner. What about dessert? She had half a layer cake left over. Cake and ice cream, she thought. Easy and appealing. Fine. That's what it would be.

By the time Yvonne and Carole clattered up the stairs from their apartment, both in their robes and slippers, Suzanne had changed her clothes herself, put on her terrycloth robe, and had laid the table for three. The twilight outside had given way to darkness, and the apartment had a warm, cozy atmosphere that soothed her nerves. She felt they were going to have a nice pleasant meal and a relaxing evening together afterwards.

"Hi, doll," said Yvonne, coming over and giving her a squeeze around the waist. "I hear you're playing cook tonight?"

"Uh-huh. And I hope you'll like it."

"Anything's fine, boobsy, tonight I could eat a horse," said Yvonne, flopping into a chair and reaching for her cigarettes. "Carole tells me you met one of the kids today."

"Yes. I told him to get the hell away from me."

"Good for you. I still think they'll try and see you again, so be careful."

"I am. That front door's locked and it's going to stay that way. If I hear them outside, I'm calling the police."

"Now you're talking. Say, I had a wild idea today. I thought maybe I could get three well-built guys over here some night and hide them in the bathroom, and then you invite those little bastards over, and they'd get a beating they wouldn't forget. I know a few guys who'd love to avenge your sullied virtue. Jeff for one, I'm sure."

Suzanne grinned. "It sounds great, but I'd rather let well enough alone. You know something, though…" She paused a moment, and giggled. "I was thinking about Donald. On his own, he wouldn't be bad to take. I mean, he does have a real nice face, and his body's wellbuilt, and…"

"And his cock's gorgeous, I know, I know," Yvonne interrupted her.

"Listen, you horny little sex maniac, he may have been great when he finally got with it, but that doesn't mean you're to start anything going with a tramp like that. If you're horny, I've got plenty of guys who'd just love to come over and screw you. To say nothing of Carole and me, incidentally."

"Don't worry, I'm not thinking about it," Suzanne said soberly. "But I just feel sorry for him. He could be a real nice kid, away from that family and the neighborhood."

"Well, you keep your altruistic feelings for those who deserve them," said Carole. "You're not out of the woods yet, remember. If you have your period, you can breathe easily. Oh, by the way, did you go to a doctor?"

Suzanne shook her head. "No, I figured between Yvonne's douche powder and all that hot water, I'm probably okay."

"Oh, well, so be it," said Carole.

"She's okay," snapped Yvonne, "That stuff I gave her'd kill anything.

Besides do you think I'd have messed around with her last night if I thought she had something?"

Suzanne reached into the oven and took out the ham.

"Mmm, that smells divine," said Carole. "Are we eating now?"

"We sure are. Gather round."

Within minutes, they were all settled round the table, helping themselves to the spread of ham, vegetables and steaming hot coffee.

Yvonne looked at Suzanne and smiled affectionately.

"Anyone who can whomp up a dinner like this deserves to be married," she said softly. "Sam's a lucky guy."

Suzanne smiled happily. "I hope you're right. I just hope he gets back soon. I'm ready for him now. Oh, God, am I ready!"

The last plate had been washed and put away, and they relaxed in the living room, each with another cup of coffee. Carole closed her eyes and sighed contentedly.

"Oh, that was wonderful. You don't know how I appreciate it, Suzanne. I was in no mood to cook."

"It was good, wasn't it?" said Suzanne. "Ham's one of my favorites, and it's so easy to fix, too."

"Was it a kosher ham, dear?" asked Yvonne evilly, and they all laughed.

"Which reminds me," she continued, inhaling deeply from her everpresent cigarette. "I went with this kosher guy once. You know, I do believe there's a difference in having sex with a circumcised guy and one who's not."

"Yvonne!!"

Carole's voice exploded across the room.

"Relax, I'm just reminiscing," she said imperturbably. "But I have found when they've had something cut off their cock, they don't seem as aggressive. Maybe I'd feel the same way if I had half my tits removed."

"If you had half your tits removed, dear," said Carole calmly. "You could join the men's swimming team."

"Bitch!"

Suzanne laughed, enjoying the pleasant banter between them, their obvious affection showing through the exchange of insults.

"When I've had your experience, darling, then maybe I can pass judgment," said Yvonne. "I guess I'd better keep my mouth shut. But you know me and sex. It's my favorite subject."

She mashed her cigarette out and looked in the package.

"Oh, damn, I'm out. Carole…"

"Hm…"

"Be a doll and run down to our place and get me a new pack. They're on the dresser."

Carole sighed, and slowly got to her feet.

"What's in it for me, huh?"

Yvonne smirked. "I'll be extra sexy tonight. I may even use the dildo on you."

"Thanks a lot."

"Come on, Suzanne, I'll help you wash the coffee cups," said Yvonne, gathering them and moving to the kitchen.

She and Suzanne walked into the kitchen as Carole unlocked the front door and left the apartment.

"I love the way you two bitch at each other," remarked Suzanne as they stood by the sink. "I never dreamed you were as close. I mean, I never thought two girls could get that way, you know what I mean?"

Yvonne nodded.

"Yup. We have our knock-down-drag-outs but as a rule, we get along pretty well. You see…" Her voice softened… "We love each other.

That makes a big difference. You can put up with a little shit once in a while because the other times make up for it. And believe me, I know I'm not easy to live with."

Suzanne turned the faucet on full-blast and rinsed the cups and saucers. Above the noise, she heard Yvonne say something.

"Sorry, I didn't hear you," she said, turning off the water and reaching for the dishtowel.

"I said: you'll find out when you start living with Sam."

Suzanne giggled. "You mean marry him or live with him?"

"Either. Though I suspect you'll probably live with him for a while now. After all, it's good to try the merchandise before buying."

"You're goddamn right, sister!"

They both whirled, and standing in the doorway was Ted. Behind him, his white teeth splitting his black face from ear to ear, was Clayton, and next to him Donald.

Suzanne felt a scream welling up inside her, and before she could utter a sound Yvonne's voice boomed out.

"You motherfuckers get the hell out of here."

From the living room they heard Carole's footsteps on the stairs, and Yvonne shouted out.

"Carole, run. Get the police."

Clayton turned, and they heard his footsteps across the living room, and Carole's scream. A moment later he dragged her inside, and the front door slammed behind them. The click of the lock as Clayton turned it sounded like an explosion.

"Now, chicky-babies, it's time for dessert," said Clayton, his dark eyes staring humorously around them.

"Oh, God," whispered Suzanne. "We forgot the door."

"You sure did," said Ted. "But that wouldn't've stopped us."

They stared at each other. Suzanne had backed away, and Yvonne stood, her hands on her hips, her face a picture of contempt. Carole, pinned in Clayton's strong arm, his hand over her mouth, was struggling violently.

"You better calm down, baby, or you'll feel my hand real hard," he said softly. Her eyes widened and she stopped moving.

"Thass better," said Clayton. "And now I guess we can have our little party. It sure's gonna be nice this way." He turned to Ted and grinned.

"There's one for each of us now. Oh, baby, there's nothin' better'n an orgy."

Yvonne opened her mouth and the beginnings of a scream emerged, but Ted stepped forward, and with a quick movement he belted her across the cheek. She staggered back against the wall.

"You get the message?" he drawled. "Now listen here. No one's gonna get hurt, as long as you spread your legs. Okay?" He stared at Suzanne.

"Hi, there. How's that hot little cunt tonight?"

Suzanne was petrified. She found she couldn't move. Her voice had disappeared. Inside her she felt her heart pounding so hard she thought she was going to faint. Finally, a whispered plea emerged from her lips.

"Please… oh, Please…"

Clayton's booming laugh echoed around the room.

"You see, jest like I said she would: she's pleading for it again. Oh, baby, and you're gonna git it, every inch of it right up that nice white pussy. And that's only for starters."

Ted reached out and grabbed Suzanne's wrist, jerking her forward.

Numbly she let herself be pushed into the living room. Clayton heaved Carole into Donald's waiting arms, and closed his long thick fingers around Yvonne's arm.

"Come on, baby, let's get this show on the road."

"You take your filthy hands off me," snapped Yvonne. "You goddamn nigger."

Clayton's eyebrows rose, and his mouth grinned evilly.

"Oh, oh, sounds like another Grosse Pointer," he said. "Or mebbe from Dearborn? Well, baby, you're gonna find out it doesn't rub off."

He dragged her into the living room, where Donald was holding Carole and Ted was gripping Suzanne. The boys all looked at one another.

"Okay, last one in's a cocksucker," said Clayton, and with one hand he seized Yvonne's robe and ripped it down, leaving her standing naked, her eyes flashing at him with hate. She opened her mouth, but before she could scream his hand had belted her violently, and she fell to the floor.

"Like I said, no noise, no trouble," said Clayton.