The Slipper (15 page)

Panties. Bra. Garter belt. Hose. Beige silk slip. High-heeled sandals, dark-yellow leather, with ankle straps. Carol watched with a caustic expression as she donned this attire, and her eyebrow shot up again when Nora took out the new dress. It was of thin, fine faille, pale lemon yellow with gold-and-orange splotches. It had a halter top, a fitted waist, a gathered skirt that ended in a multilevel handkerchief-point hemline. Seventy-eight bucks at the swankiest department store in town. Nora put it on, hooked it up in back and then looked at herself in the mirror with critical eyes.

“Going to a party?” Carol inquired.

“Shut up. Jesus, I look exactly like Donna Reed in
From Here
to Eternity
, ready to take on all comers. I should never have put on the nail polish.”

“Actually, you look quite sweet.”

“One more crack out of you, bitch, and you'll be minus several teeth.”

Nora opened the bottle of Chanel Number 5 and dabbed it on lavishly at various strategic spots. She sighed then, put the bottle down, looked nervous and worried, looked frightened and, finally, looked resigned. She grimaced, picked up her small yellow leather purse and the manila folder and moved to the door, turning for one final shot.

“I'm off, sweetie. Wish me luck. If I come back here still a virgin it'll be over his dead body.”

Were people staring at her as she walked across campus? Were they snickering? Screw 'em all. Damn, how did women walk on these bloody high heels? Felt like she was on stilts. She crossed the street and headed toward Chelsea, self-conscious as hell, as nervous as she'd ever been in her life, her stomach flipping and flopping and her pulses racing like mad. You're out of your everlovin' mind, she told herself. She felt like a fool. She felt like a clown. She started to turn back several times but forged on ahead with grim determination. There was the Safeway on the corner of LaMarr. Special today. Roast Beef, 49C a pound. We Give Green Stamps. She moved past the side of the store and there stood the Victorian monstrosity on the corner of Chelsea and Blake. Jesus! It looked like something out of Charles Addams. The gray paint was flaking badly. The gingerbread trim was tattered. She half expected bats to swoop down and attack as she stepped onto the front porch.

Here goes, kid. Knockers up. Remember the Maine. Smile.

She rang the doorbell. She waited. She rang it again. There was a loud, banging noise inside and then the sound of footsteps. He opened the door. He was wearing tennis shoes without socks and the blue sateen shorts and old gray sweatshirt with sleeves cut out he had been wearing her first day on campus, when she saw him jogging. The sweatshirt was eight months older and much the worse for wear. The blue sateen shorts had a shiny sheen. He smelled potently of sweat. Nora smiled brightly. Dick looked at her with some dismay.

“You goin' to a party later on?” he asked.

“I thought we were gonna have a party of our own,” she replied.

He grinned. I know. Don't say it. You're a gas.

“Come on in,” he said. “Got the report?”

“It's right here in my hot little hands.”

“I sure appreciate this, kid.”

“Kid” again. Couldn't he see she was a provocative, alluring woman? Nora followed him into a large, airy foyer littered with cardboard boxes, abandoned sports equipment and a disconnected jukebox covered with dust, and then he led her into a spacious, high-ceilinged room that, at one time, had obviously been the parlor. The floor was bare. Faded beige shades hung at the windows. Barbells and a contraption that looked like some kind of rack stood in one corner. A bench press? Something like that. There was a narrow bed with crisp sheets, no spread, a couple of wooden chairs, a desk, a shelf crowded with bronze sport trophies, a stolen STOP sign, a pair of boxing gloves. An untidy stack of
Fitness and Health
magazines sat on the desk. Charming. The place had a real ambience.

“This is my room,” Dick explained. “Jack and Bud live in back. They're out this afternoon.”

“How convenient,” Nora said.

“It's not much, but it beats stayin' at the dorm.”

Dick took the report from her and put it on the desk and picked up a green plastic dish filled with something that looked like brown pellets.

“Want some soybeans?” he asked.

“No, thanks. I'm on a diet.”

“They're real good for you, fulla protein and stuff. Give you lots of energy.”

“You have some.” Nora indicated the barbells. “You lift weights?”

“Yeah. Every day. I was workin' out when you rang the doorbell. If he's gonna be any good, a fellow has to keep in shape.”

“I hear you're real good, big fellow.”

Mae West couldn't have delivered the line better. Dick seemed a bit puzzled, and then he decided she was being a gas again and grinned broadly. Nora sighed. Maybe she should do card tricks. In truth, she was scared out of her wits and wasn't at all sure her knees weren't knocking together. She couldn't keep her eyes off those legs, those broad shoulders, and that sweaty smell was like some heady aphrodisiac. Sitting across the table from him at the library was one thing. Being here in his room with him, he half naked, the bed only a few feet away, was something else altogether. How many girls had he banged on that bed?

“Sure you don't want any soybeans?” he said.

“Positive.”

Dick set the bowl down. He looked slightly ill at ease, as though he expected her to leave, and then he slapped his thigh and began to nod his head, realization dawning.

“Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. I promised to give you one of my specialties, didn't I?”

“I thought you'd never get around to it.”

“Hold on. I'll be right back.”

He left the room and Nora took a deep breath. Here's your chance to make a quick getaway, kid. Run for your life. So you're still a virgin? So what? No need rushing things. Hate to break it to you this way, kid, but you're not cut out to be a femme fatale. Get your ass
out
of here while you still have a chance. Her feet seemed rooted to the floor. She couldn't move. She heard a strange, whirring noise coming from a kitchen in back of the house. He's making me a drink. He's going to bring me a Hurricane or a Grasshopper or something lethal like that. Maybe it'll help. Dick came padding down the hallway and came into the room looking very pleased with himself and carrying two vanilla milkshakes. At least that's what they looked like. Nora smiled a bright smile.

“Here we go,” he said.

“It looks delicious.”

He handed her one of the drinks. She accepted it with trembling hand.

“Bottoms up,” he said.

“What a lovely idea.”

It went right over his head. He turned his glass up and drank with great relish. Nora took a tentative sip of hers and gagged. Jesus! It tasted just like chalk dust! Dick finished his and told her it was liquid protein, filled with wheat germ and lots of good stuff like that. Nora said it sounded fascinating but she really was on a diet and suggested he drink hers too, as he obviously needed a lot of protein to keep that body looking so fit and gorgeous. Dick accepted with alacrity and drank it down and set the glasses aside, looking at her with bemused green-brown eyes and a furrowed brow, as though trying to solve some particularly difficult problem.

“You're a funny girl,” he said.

“I know. A regular riot.”

“That dress you're wearin'—you put it on for me, didn't-ja?”

“Of course not. I just grabbed the first thing I saw in the closet.”

“You
do
look kinda nifty.”

“I love your choice of words.”

“All those cracks you're always makin'—if I didn't know better, I'd almost believe you wanted to get laid.”

“Believe. Believe.”

“Geez—are you serious?”

Nora didn't say anything. She couldn't. Her knees were really beginning to shake now. She swallowed. She just wanted out of here. His eyes seemed to darken, gleaming with an entirely new interest, and his lips slowly curled into another grin, a different kind of grin this time, not warm and friendly but wicked, definitely wicked, and—Jesus!—something was stirring in his shorts. He padded slowly toward her and Nora thought she would scream as his big hands reached out and took hold of her shoulders and began to knead her flesh. This was what she wanted, sure, she'd fantasized about it, but now that it was actually happening it was frightening as hell.

“You really are a cute little thing,” he murmured. “I guess I was so involved with Helen I never really noticed just how cute you are. You wanna get laid, I'm just the guy you're lookin' for.”

He was backing her toward the bed. Nora giggled nervously.

“We—uh—we needn't be in such a big hurry,” she protested.

“No time like the present, babe.”

He gave her a shove. She tumbled onto the bed. It was as hard as a rock. She fell back, banging her head on a pillow as hard as the mattress. She knew a girl was supposed to smile provocatively at this point and writhe around a lot, just like Rita Hayworth, but she could only stare in stunned horror as he pulled down his shorts. So
that
was what it looked like? Not a pretty sight! It was all swollen, pointing right at her, throbbing. Dick leaned over and whipped up her skirt and slip and caught hold of her panties and jerked them down and then he lunged, falling on top of her, knocking the breath right out of her. Jesus! He must weigh at least a ton! He was crushing her to death. Her skirt was up over her face, and Nora struggled blindly and finally managed to get it down to her chin and he slammed his mouth over hers, smothering her cry of protest, and she felt it touching her stomach and then he arched his buttocks up and reached his hand down to adjust things and then he crammed it right in.

Holy shit! She struggled furiously but that only spurred him on, made him more excited. It was hot and hard, thrusting deeper and deeper, tearing her apart. Nora tried to catch hold of his hair and pull his head back but his crew cut was too short so she caught hold of his ears and tugged and he thought that was some kind of game so he thrust even harder, his weight squashing her against the hard mattress, the springs beneath creaking loudly with a crazy rhythm, and then she felt it tearing, ripping apart. The agony! She thought she was going to die right there under him. The pain seared and scalded and then, crazy, crazy, it began to melt into pleasure and she felt a tingling glow begin to spread, making her toes curl, making her wild, and she lifted her hips, really beginning to feel it now, and then he gave a mighty grunt and moaned and fell limp, crushing her flat with his full weight and leaving her suspended up there on a ledge. He moaned again and finally rolled off her, his chest heaving. He sighed deeply and after a few moments got up and padded to the bathroom.

Nora had managed to adjust her clothing and gain some semblance of control by the time he came back into the room.

“Geez,” he said, “I didn't know you were still a virgin.”

“A virgin? Me? That was all an act. It drives the boys wild. I carry a little pellet of red ink around just to give it verisimilitude.”

“Yeah?” He actually believed her.

“Sure,” she said frostily.

“Well—uh—it was great. Look, I gotta hustle or I'll be late and Coach will have a fit. I'll just get my clothes and stuff out of the closet and take everything to Bud's room, shower and dress there.”

“Peachy.”

“You go on and use this bathroom in here, clean up, whatever, take all the time you need. I'll see you around. Really don't think we need to keep studying at the library anymore, do you?”

“You seem to be doing fine now.”

Dick took his clothes out of the closet and started toward the door. Nora was sitting on the edge of the bed.

“One more thing,” she said.

He turned, his mind on his appointment now, the quick, energetic workout almost forgotten.

“You
did
use something, didn't you?”

“Oh—that. Yeah. I slipped it on while you were getting your skirts out of your eyes. I always keep a spare package under the edge of the mattress.”

“Real thoughtful of you,” she said.

“Catch you later, babe.”

Don't hold your breath, Buster.

Nora put on a bright, cocky facade for Carol, but acting wasn't Nora's forte and Carol could see something had gone wrong, and she was much too tactful to ask questions. Nora's visit to Dick Sanders's place that afternoon was never mentioned, might never have happened. A few days later Dick took up with a tittering blonde freshman with wet red lips and wide blue eyes, and the next afternoon as Nora was on her way back to the dorm Bud Knox moved onto the walk in front of her, blocking her passage. He smiled a sly, knowing smile and told her they had a great flick at the Eastside Drive-In, just outside of town, and he'd be pleased as punch if she'd consider going to see it with him that night. Nora studied him in silence for several long moments, taking in the short red crew cut and the sexy brown eyes, the wide, amiable mouth and lean, well-muscled body. If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. You no longer have anything to lose.

“Pick me up at eight,” she said.

Nora was going to be very, very popular.

6

Can I do it? Do I have enough courage? Julie nervously prepared lunch, mincing boiled eggs and sweet pickles for the tuna salad, and her hand was shaking as she opened the refrigerator to take out the mayonnaise. Whatever possessed me to have that photograph taken, fill out that form and send them in? Just as though I thought I had a chance. Mr. Compton asked me to, yes, said he thought I would make a marvelous Charlotte Corday, but … I can't do it. I can't go there this afternoon and read for Eric Berne, the great Eric Berne. This isn't a school play. This is a movie, a real movie! Julie dumped the eggs and pickles into the bowl of tuna fish, added mayonnaise, mixed it all together with a fork. Her hand was still shaking. I'm too timid and frightened to try out for Laura in
The Glass Menagerie
, but at three-thirty this afternoon I'm scheduled to read for the legendary Eric Berne for the leading role in his multi-million-dollar production of
Daughter of France
.