“Yes,” she said faintly. “But... didn’t you mention... a dark room?”
“I did,” he returned promptly. “But I had an idea Trixie queered that in the car.”
“Have you... had so many women?” Barbara asked unevenly.
Frank hesitated. “Suppose I said yes?” he asked.
“Then I’d be glad,” Barbara told him simply. “I’d say it was a good thing one of us had experience. I’m so woefully ignorant,” she wailed.
“I know,” he said quietly. Then he stood up and pulled at her arm. “Get up,” he commanded.
Barbara trembled as she stood before him. “What... what are you going to do?” she queried faintly.
“I’m going to look for that dark room,” he told her. He took both her hands in his and led her toward a dark entrance. She followed him confidingly. The sounds of merriment from within came to her faintly. All the others seemed far away... as though they were in another world.
There were only she and Frank. In a dimly lit hallway, thickly carpeted and with paneled walls. He led her gently to a door and stopped before it with his finger on his lips. They listened intently but could hear no sound from within.
He smiled as he turned the knob to enter. “One never knows what one will run into during a party like this,” he muttered. “It’s always best to make sure before venturing into a dark bedroom.”
He turned on the switch as he spoke... then uttered a quick exclamation as he switched the light off again abruptly. Barbara caught only a blurred impression of the scene within the room as his exclamation was echoed by a shrill shriek from the corner.
Frank pulled her from the room and shut the door firmly. “Damn fools!” he ejaculated, wiping the perspiration from his brow. “They ought to have sense enough to lock the door.”
Barbara smiled faintly as she followed him down the hall to a stairway. In her heart was the knowledge that yesterday she would have fainted had she turned on the light to see such a scene. But yesterday seemed so far away. She found that she wasn’t a bit shocked now. Only amused. It seemed so much a part of this strange new life she was being introduced to.
At the top of the stairs Frank made an abrupt turn to the right. “We’ll go in my room,” he said. “It’s locked and I know we won’t be disturbed.”
Barbara waited quietly while he inserted a key in the lock and opened the door. Then she entered behind him while he turned on a top light. It was a large room. Magnificently decorated in somber browns, and furnished with massive oak chairs, tables, and huge four-poster bed.
Frank stepped into a closet while she stood in the center of the floor with a peculiar smile on her lips. He carried a silk robe over his arm when he reappeared.
“You’ll want to take that tight thing off,” he suggested. He handed her the robe, and smiled as she looked at it doubtfully. “I’ll go in the other room and get into something else while you change,” he said tactfully. “The bathroom’s right there,” he added as she smiled her thanks.
Barbara carried the robe to the bed and laid it there carefully. Then she sat down and stared at the floor. A faint voice persisted in whispering that this was not Barbara Dorn. This could not be Barbara Dorn! Sitting on a huge bed in a man’s room... preparing to disrobe in anticipation of his return. It was preposterous to think of Barbara Dorn doing that!
Of course it was not she. Another soul had slipped into her physical body and taken full possession. This was no more Barbara Dorn than were any of the girls who danced and laughed downstairs. This girl who sat upon the bed was merely a chip tossed up by the swirling madness which was Mardi Gras. This bit of flotsam had no connection whatsoever with Barbara Dorn.
Her mind played with the fantasy as she kicked off her shoes and drew down her stockings. She felt giddy and shaken as she stood up to pull the Quaker costume off over her head. She looked at this stranger as she dropped the costume to the floor. The body was the same. Of course! She nodded emphatically at the reflection in the mirror. The physical envelope was unchanged.
The only change was within. Her eyes gave evidence of that. They were grave and serene. Barbara Dorn would be frightened and furtive in a like situation. But this stranger who inhabited her body was not frightened.
Barbara slipped the robe over her shoulders and threw back the covers on the bed. Frank came through the door as she stretched out comfortably. She smiled a welcome at him as he switched out the light. He had changed to a fanciful lounging robe. She felt quite certain he wore nothing beneath the robe.
He sat on the edge of the bed gently, and touched her brow with his fingertips. An indescribable thrill enveloped her. She took his hand and moved it down to her lips so she might kiss it passionately... then downward to the tip of her bosom which ached for his caresses.
Frank murmured endearments as he kissed her eyes... and her lips. She let the robe fall back from her body. It seemed that her soul floated off in a vaporous mist as his lips touched her shoulders, her neck, the swell of her breast.
Twenty-two years of unspent passion arose to assail her. Her breasts throbbed, and she clutched his head to her roughly.
It was more than she could stand. Frank knew so well what must be done. She writhed and her desire tormented her. It was menacing. She shrank from the shameful implication. An accusing finger was pointed at her scornfully in the dark room.
Then she expired. The livingness that had been Barbara Dorn fled into the night and left the shell of her body. Her muscles relaxed as she drew in a breath shudderingly. Then she was limp.
Frank hesitated. He lifted his head and spoke softly. “My dear?”
She did not reply.
“Barbara!” He shook her slightly. Her form moved limply at his touch.
“My God!” Frank moved to lay his cheek over her heart. He was choking with a strange fear.
Her heart beat irregularly. He shook her shoulder and covered her face with kisses. She lay quiescent, only her faint breathing attesting that she lived.
“My God!” he muttered again. “She’s passed out like a ship going over the horizon,” he said aloud.
Speaking his thoughts aloud seemed to arouse him to the necessity of the moment. He jumped up and ran to turn on the light. Then he hesitated and turned back to look at Barbara before opening the door. She lay upon her back with arms outstretched. Her eyes were closed, her face dead-white, but strangely composed.
He ran back to the bed and drew the covers over her. Then hurried from the room pursued by the phantom of fear.
He found Ethel at once, and sent her to Barbara while he called a physician.
Barbara was in the front seat of Frank’s car when she returned to consciousness. She sighed audibly, yawned, and sat erect. “Where am I?” she asked quickly.
Ethel sat beside her in the front seat. Frank was driving. “You poor lamb,” Ethel muttered. “You’ve been in a hell of a shape.”
“What happened?” Barbara looked about wildly. They were driving slowly along a tree-shadowed lane. Barbara was fully dressed.
“We’re out driving in an effort to sober you up before we took you home,” Ethel told her quickly. “How much do you remember?” she asked curiously.
“Oh! I don’t know.” Barbara shuddered again. “Everything’s mixed up,” she said brokenly. “Crazy dreams with what’s really happened. I’m afraid I can’t really separate the real from the dreams. I don’t remember anything clearly since this afternoon in that apartment on Rampart Street. What time is it, and what’s happened?”
“It’s about one o’clock in the morning, and plenty’s happened,” Ethel told her succinctly. “You broke up the party when you played dead. We had a doctor out and everything. Lord God! I thought you were a goner. But he said it was just overexcitement and too much wine and punch. We’ve been driving with you for an hour.”