He climbed into the bed, being careful not to touch her. A further lift to her spirits. She went back to the fetal position against the side of the camper. Alfred settled down, and all was quiet. Penny almost didn’t breathe, her ears alert to the slightest movement on his part. Five minutes passed.
She felt his hand on her back. She tensed. Now it was going to happen. She was prepared to fight for her honor. She would die before she would let him have sex with her. That was Gary’s exclusive territory. Alfred’s hand slipped around her waist until it reached-her navel.
She remembered the evening in the campground when they had taken a walk together. He had gone for her navel then, too. Detective Landon’s analysis that Alfred had a navel fetish was correct. He began to investigate her navel with his finger. Penny didn’t like his hand on her, but it could be a lot worse. If this was all he wanted, she could stand it.
“Alfred, I want the light on. I-I’m scared of the dark.”
He didn’t say anything. He kept playing with her navel. Penny sat up on the bed, cast off the blankets, and swung her legs around, leaving his hand behind. She slid to the floor of the camper, feeling the cool night air on her body. At least she was still wearing socks so her feet wouldn’t get cold. She had watched Alfred turn off the dome light, and she was able to find the switch by feel. She turned it back on.
She swiveled back toward the bed and saw that Alfred was now the one with the covers up to his neck. He was looking at her with an expression she couldn’t interpret. Surprise? Uncertainty? She lifted the sheet and blankets high enough to see what Alfred was wearing, and then slid back under them. A T-shirt and boxer shorts. Not the most appropriate costume for seducing a girl.
This time Penny lay on her back. She took Alfred’s hand and placed it on her belly. He lay on his side, facing her.
“You like navels, don’t you, Alfred? Here, you can play with mine.”
Whatever happened wasn’t going to happen in the dark where Alfred could hide from the truth of it. Or pretend he was normal when he wasn’t. To make it even more real, Penny decided she was going to report a play-by-play of the action. Out loud. And she was willing to give in to him to some extent if that would help to keep him out of her pants.
“Do you like my navel?”
Alfred continued to feel her navel. He grunted something that sounded like an affirmative.
“What do you like about my navel?” Make him face his secrets.
“It’s an innie.”
“An innie? Oh, I know what you mean. What’s yours?”
He didn’t answer. She turned her head and looked into his eyes, inches away. He looked stricken. She took her right hand and ran it lightly down his shirt to the hem. She pulled the shirt up so she could reach his bare skin. His skin gave way under her touch like a partially inflated balloon. It wasn’t firm, like Gary’s. She could feel his body tremble.
She found his navel. She swore that it withdrew when she first touched it, like a girl the first time a boy touches her breast. She persisted and placed her fingers squarely on it. It protruded slightly. Is that what he didn’t like about it? She began to caress it.
“You don’t like your navel, do you?”
“No.”
“Well, I like it. I think it’s an outstanding navel.”
Oops. Wrong choice of word. But Alfred didn’t take offense at her language, and he seemed to like having his navel rubbed. He began to move his stomach against her fingers. He continued to rub her navel. So far so good. Penny thought about one way she put Gary to sleep when she had her period. Maybe the same thing would work with Alfred. She was willing to go that far.
She moved her hand down to the waistband of his shorts, intending to slide it underneath the elastic. His hand grabbed hers and stopped it cold. This was a real surprise to her. Men liked hand jobs. Or at least most men did. She regrouped and moved her hand back to his navel. He relaxed. One thing she noticed was that he smelled clean. He had taken a shower recently. His shirt was clean, too. It made her job easier.
This couldn’t go on all night. With sex there’s a climax and a definite ending. Where was the climax to navel rubbing? Penny got up on her elbow and rolled Alfred over onto his back. He looked surprised, but he didn’t resist. She shifted her body around so that she could place her mouth on his navel.
She began to flick her tongue against his navel. At first she thought she would be grossed out, but it wasn’t so bad. It was only a navel, after all. He reacted to her ministrations. He started moaning softly. After a couple of minutes of this, she placed her hand on his shorts, hoping to speed up the process.
She was shocked to find that he was flaccid. She jerked her hand away before he could react to what she was doing. No wonder he had restrained her previously. He was with a sexy young woman-as she thought of herself-and he couldn’t get it up.
Something was definitely wrong with one of them, and past experience told her she wasn’t the one with the problem. However, her activity seemed to be producing some kind of a cumulative effect on Alfred. His panting grew louder and faster. Finally he had what could only be described as a climax, with deep moans and muscle spasms in his stomach, although Penny couldn’t have given a physiological explanation for what actually happened.
She lay on her back, hoping that her job was done. Alfred rolled onto his side and placed his hand on her navel. His movements were lethargic. Within three minutes, he was snoring. It had worked. She felt relieved.
Now was her chance to get away. Since his hand was resting on her stomach, she didn’t move for another five minutes, hoping that he would fall into a deep sleep. Then she cautiously started to inch away from him. He groaned and closed his fingers on the flesh of her stomach. Damn. She stopped moving, and his hand relaxed.
Another ten minutes went by. She tried again. He reacted the same way. This was going to be harder than she thought. She would wait another ten minutes. She found herself drifting off. She was exhausted. She tried to focus on escaping, but she felt strangely languid. The events of the day and evening had tired her out. The last thought she had was that she should try moving again.
CHAPTER 29
If he hadn’t parked near the entrance to one of the campgrounds he had been searching and slept for several hours in the VW, Gary was certain he would have driven off the road and wrecked the car and himself. He was weaving back and forth before he stopped and had completely lost his concentration. He argued with himself about whether he would be deserting Penny by stopping but came to the conclusion that killing himself would be a much worse form of desertion.
His search had been fruitless. Barring the possibility that he had missed finding the campsite of Penny and Alfred, a possibility that nagged him continually, they hadn’t stopped at a campground north of Bodega Bay. Perhaps Alfred had driven straight to Los Angeles on Route 101. If so, how could he stay awake? He certainly couldn’t trust Penny to drive. In fact, he would have to keep her restrained at all times, because she would not be a passive captive. Her students called her Miss Tiger with good reason.
They might have stayed at a campground along 101 instead of 1, or in a cheap motel, or…? Or simply gone beyond Bodega Bay before stopping. There were too many possibilities. How did he ever think he could find them? He had been looking for a couple of minnows in the ocean. Searching had helped to lift his spirits for awhile, but as he became more and more tired, he became more and more depressed.
The rising sun woke Gary. He drove the few miles to Bodega Bay and pulled into the parking lot of a cafe advertising breakfast, determined to call the Highway Patrol, refuel himself and the car, and rethink his plan. He hoped the police were having better luck than he was. If not, he couldn’t bear to think of the consequences.