nymphomaniac. His good mood of recent days evaporated.
Two days later Marianne showed up in person. The sun was hot and Kyle had his shirt off. He was splitting wood to dry out for fireplace kindling, enjoying the pull of his muscles as he swung the axe. There was a sensual pleasure in seeing the chunks of wood part cleanly under the blade and topple to either side of the chopping block. He froze as a hand fell on his shoulder. Slowly he lowered the axe.
“Hi, lover.”
He returned reluctantly to see Marianne smiling at him. But it was a different smile and a different Marianne. A soiled T-shirt bore the logo of Bischoff High School. Her jeans were tight enough to squeak. Her strawberry hair was carelessly combed with straggling strands falling haphazardly. She wore dark eye makeup, and her lipstick was crooked.
“Glad to see me?”
“Oh, hi. Sure.”
“I was waiting for you to call.”
“Yeah, well, I was going to, but there was a lot of stuff to do around here.”
“You’re becoming quite the farmer.”
He forced a small laugh. “So … how are you?”
“Oh, I’m fine. Can’t you see?” She did a clumsy pirouette in front of him. He caught a whiff of heavy sweet perfume.
A bandage patched the forearm where she had been cut. The gauze was stained a dark yellow. Kyle pointed to it, being careful not to touch her.
“How’s your arm?”
“It’s nothing much. Want to see?” She started to pick at the bandage.
“No,” he said quickly. He looked off toward the house. “Uncle Bob will be glad to see you.”
“I didn’t come to see your uncle.”
“Well, he was asking about you.”
She put out a hand and stroked Kyle’s bare chest. He had to force himself not to flinch from her touch.
“I came to see you. You’re getting a nice tan.”
“Uh, thanks. You really ought to go up and talk to Uncle Bob. I know he’d like that.”
“Fuck Uncle Bob.” She giggled. “Better yet, fuck you. That’s what I came for, you know.”
“Jesus, Marianne, what’s with you?”
“I’m horny. Aren’t girls allowed to get horny?”
“Why do you want to talk that way?”
“Hey, haven’t you heard the words before? What do they say for fucking in California? Or don’t they fuck out there? Just suck cocks? I can do that too.”
He glanced nervously toward the open kitchen window. “Mrs. Simms might hear you.”
“What’s the matter, don’t you think she’s ever done it? She had a couple of kids, you know. Where do you think they came from, immaculate conception?”
“Cut it out.”
Marianne’s overbright smile crumbled into little pieces. “Don’t tell me to cut it out, Mr. California Stud. If you don’t like what you see, just remember you did it. You owe me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I didn’t tell Daddy half the things that happened Saturday night. I didn’t tell him how you tried to get in my pants, then sat by and let those three bastard Gerstners rape me.”
“Sat by?! Wait a minute — ”
“
You
wait a minute. You let those animals rape me and you didn’t even report it.”
“You’re the one who didn’t want to — ”
“Shut up. Then you wreck the car and while I’m unconscious or something you and that Gypsy do dirty things to me in his smelly old camper. You’re damn lucky I didn’t tell, or you’d be in a whole lot of trouble.”
Something cold clutched his insides as he began to understand the power this girl had over him. Working to keep his voice calm he said, “Hey, there’s no need to get all frosty with me. We had a bad night, but we came out of it pretty lucky, all things considered. Let’s call it even and be friends, okay?”
Her expression did not soften. “No, not okay. You owe me, Kyle. I’m horny, I told you, and I want you to do something about it. Now.”
“Be reasonable, Marianne. A man can’t just perform on demand, you know.”
“We’ll see about that. Come on.”
She seized his wrist and started to pull
Two days later Marianne showed up in person. The sun was hot and Kyle had his shirt off. He was splitting wood to dry out for fireplace kindling, enjoying the pull of his muscles as he swung the axe. There was a sensual pleasure in seeing the chunks of wood part cleanly under the blade and topple to either side of the chopping block. He froze as a hand fell on his shoulder. Slowly he lowered the axe.
“Hi, lover.”
He returned reluctantly to see Marianne smiling at him. But it was a different smile and a different Marianne. A soiled T-shirt bore the logo of Bischoff High School. Her jeans were tight enough to squeak. Her strawberry hair was carelessly combed with straggling strands falling haphazardly. She wore dark eye makeup, and her lipstick was crooked.
“Glad to see me?”
“Oh, hi. Sure.”
“I was waiting for you to call.”
“Yeah, well, I was going to, but there was a lot of stuff to do around here.”
“You’re becoming quite the farmer.”
He forced a small laugh. “So … how are you?”
“Oh, I’m fine. Can’t you see?” She did a clumsy pirouette in front of him. He caught a whiff of heavy sweet perfume.
A bandage patched the forearm where she had been cut. The gauze was stained a dark yellow. Kyle pointed to it, being careful not to touch her.
“How’s your arm?”
“It’s nothing much. Want to see?” She started to pick at the bandage.
“No,” he said quickly. He looked off toward the house. “Uncle Bob will be glad to see you.”
“I didn’t come to see your uncle.”
“Well, he was asking about you.”
She put out a hand and stroked Kyle’s bare chest. He had to force himself not to flinch from her touch.
“I came to see you. You’re getting a nice tan.”
“Uh, thanks. You really ought to go up and talk to Uncle Bob. I know he’d like that.”
“Fuck Uncle Bob.” She giggled. “Better yet, fuck you. That’s what I came for, you know.”
“Jesus, Marianne, what’s with you?”
“I’m horny. Aren’t girls allowed to get horny?”
“Why do you want to talk that way?”
“Hey, haven’t you heard the words before? What do they say for fucking in California? Or don’t they fuck out there? Just suck cocks? I can do that too.”
He glanced nervously toward the open kitchen window. “Mrs. Simms might hear you.”
“What’s the matter, don’t you think she’s ever done it? She had a couple of kids, you know. Where do you think they came from, immaculate conception?”
“Cut it out.”
Marianne’s overbright smile crumbled into little pieces. “Don’t tell me to cut it out, Mr. California Stud. If you don’t like what you see, just remember you did it. You owe me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I didn’t tell Daddy half the things that happened Saturday night. I didn’t tell him how you tried to get in my pants, then sat by and let those three bastard Gerstners rape me.”
“Sat by?! Wait a minute — ”
“
You
wait a minute. You let those animals rape me and you didn’t even report it.”
“You’re the one who didn’t want to — ”
“Shut up. Then you wreck the car and while I’m unconscious or something you and that Gypsy do dirty things to me in his smelly old camper. You’re damn lucky I didn’t tell, or you’d be in a whole lot of trouble.”
Something cold clutched his insides as he began to understand the power this girl had over him. Working to keep his voice calm he said, “Hey, there’s no need to get all frosty with me. We had a bad night, but we came out of it pretty lucky, all things considered. Let’s call it even and be friends, okay?”
Her expression did not soften. “No, not okay. You owe me, Kyle. I’m horny, I told you, and I want you to do something about it. Now.”
“Be reasonable, Marianne. A man can’t just perform on demand, you know.”
“We’ll see about that. Come on.”
She seized his wrist and started to pull
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