Эд Макбейн - Love, Dad

“No,” she said, “I’m sorry.”

“Careful,” he said, and extended his hand to help her over a rock ledge. She took his hand. He did not release it when they were on firm ground again.

“Henry the Fifth,” he said. “The scene before the battle. When he’s walking through the camp, talking to the soldiers. He’s in disguise, you know... don’t you know Henry the Fifth?”

She shook her head. She was very much aware of his hand, the fingers gently clasped around her own. The glowing fires were behind them now, they climbed steadily toward where the tent was pitched.

“ ‘Now entertain conjecture of a time,’ ” Judd said, almost in a whisper, and it took her a moment to realize he was quoting, “ ‘When creeping murmur and the poring dark fills the wide vessel of the universe.’ Reminds me of this, I don’t know why.”

“Don’t stop,” she said.

“Well...”

“Please.”

“ ‘From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night, the hum of either army stilly sounds, that the fix’d sentinels almost receive the secret whispers of each other’s watch. Fire answers fire; and through their paly flames’... well, that’s enough,” he said, and squeezed her hand.

“Armies?” she said, “This reminds you of armies?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“But... why?”

“I don’t know. It just seems like an army to me.”

“And the other army?”

“The other army?” He turned to her, and grinned, and again squeezed her hand. “Why, them, Lissie,” he said. “Them.”

When they got back to the tent, the others were asleep, the kerosene lamp was out. He prepared a place for her near where Rusty was sleeping, a blanket on the ground, another to cover her. They undressed silently in the darkness. She took off the B.U. sweatshirt and her jeans, but she left on her panties. He went to the sleeping bag, and she went to the blankets on the other side of the tent.

“Good night,” he said.

“Good night,” she answered, and crawled between the blankets. She lay in the darkness, listening to the breathing, Suzie’s and Rusty’s, trying to isolate Judd’s. Her heart was pounding. She lay very still for what seemed like a long time.

“Lissie?” he whispered.

“Yes?”

“Are you asleep?”

“No.”

“Why don’t you come over here?”

“Well...”

“Well what?”

“Well... I don’t know.”

“Come on over.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Isn’t it cold over there, all alone under that blanket?”

“Well...”

“Isn’t it?”

“Well... I guess so.”

“Then come on over here.”

“Well...”

“Come on.”

“Well... just for a minute.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it.”

“Okay, just for a minute.”

Wearing only her panties, pulling the blanket around her, she moved to his sleeping bag. He had already unzipped it; he opened the flap wide for her, and she crawled in beside him.

“So,” he whispered, “hello.”

“Hello,” she whispered.

They fell silent. Across the tent, she could hear Rusty’s gentle breathing and Suzie’s light snoring. She was suddenly trembling beside him.

“Still cold?” he whispered.

“Yes, I... guess so.”

“Here,” he said, and put his arms around her.

“Listen, don’t get any...”

“You’re very pretty,” he said.

“Sure.”

“You are.”

“Sure.”

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen,” she said. She was still trembling. She wished she could stop trembling. “How... how old are you?” she asked.

“Nineteen,” he said.

“I thought you were older... no, don’t do that,” she said.

“Why not?”

“Well...”

“Well what?”

“Well, why would you want to?”

“Want to?”

“I’m so... small,” she said.

“So?” he said.

“So...”

“Well...”

“Be still,” he said, and kissed her.

She thought for a moment, Hey, watch out, Liss, she thought, Oh, wow, as his tongue parted her lips, and moved into her mouth, caressing her own tongue, his hand gently kneading her breast, the nipple rising, she thought Hey! and pulled her mouth from his and said, “Hey, come on.”

“You said a minute.”

“Well...”

“It hasn’t been thirty seconds.”

“Well...”

“Be still,” he said again.

His lips touched hers, gently, but the hand kneading her breast was insistent.

“You have terrific nipples,” he said.

“Sure. Listen...”

“Yes?”

“We’d better cut this out.”

“Why?”

“Because... well, listen, let’s just cut it out, okay?”

“No,” he said.

“Judd...”

“Yes?”

“Listen... I...”

His hand moved from her breast. She felt it suddenly on her panties, between her legs, touching her there where no one had ever...

“Listen,” she said.

“Yes?”

“Cut it out, okay?”

“No.”

“Listen, take your hand away, okay?” she said, and reached for his wrist, and caught it and said, “Come on now.”

“No,” he said.

“Well, I’m not about to...” she started to say, and he shook her hand loose, and began lowering her panties over her belly, “Hey, listen,” she whispered, pulling them down over her nakedness, “Listen, Judd really, this,” and suddenly he moved in against her, and she felt his hardness and said, started to say, “Hey, come on...” but he took her hand in his own and brought it to him, brought it gently to him, and she said, “Judd, listen” and he opened her hand and then closed her fingers around him.

“Judd,” she said.

“Yes?” he said.

“I don’t know you.”

“You know me.”

“No, really, listen,” she said, but her hand, her hand was unbiddenly touching him, gliding along his shaft, she could feel him pulsing under her fingers, she thought Jesus and she said, “Judd, listen,” and his mouth found hers again. She thought Jesus, this is crazy while his mouth, while his hand, her mouth, her hand...

“Judd...”

“Shhh,” he said.

“Listen, I’m, you know...”

“Shhh,” he said, and rolled on top of her.

She felt him inside her, enormous inside her, felt a sharp momentary pain, and gasped, and urgently whispered, “Listen, I’m a virgin,” recognizing the lie at once, whatever she’d been she no longer was, the hugeness of him swelling inside her own swollen, her own, “Listen,” she said, “I wish you’d,” his mouth stopping the words, sealing her lips while below he began a steady fierce rhythm. “Listen,” she said, pulling her mouth from his, incessantly probing, Oh, Jesus, she thought, “Listen,” she said, “Shhh,” he said, and shoved himself deeper inside her, “They’ll hear us,” she said, “Shhh,” he said, his massive, his, Jesus, she thought and his lips found hers again, his mouth more demanding now, biting her lips, thrusting his tongue into her, searching the walls of her mouth while below she began moving with a fierce rhythm of her own, searching for, rubbing against, moving it against him, getting it there against him, pushing it there against him, swollen and wet, Jesus, she thought, Jesus, I, “That’s the girl,” he whispered, “that’s it, Lissie, that’s it, honey,” impaled beneath him, her body moving without conscious will, the roof of the tent, the ground beneath her, My father’ll kill me, she thought, and said aloud, sharply, “Oh! Oh, Jesus!” and felt his hand clamping onto her mouth, and suddenly lost all sense of time or place or being or self or anything but, anything else, anything.