He got up, went back to the cabin, got the keys to the car from his father and drove into town. The man at the liquor store was decent enough not to ask to see his draft card. He bought a gallon jug of red wine, knowing that wine was the only drink that had a chance of working on her. Beer was too vulgar and liquor was too strong. Wine would appeal to the romantic side of her, and that was what he wanted.
It didn’t seem fair, somehow. But it was no time to worry about fairness. He was going to use the wine, and the wine was going to get her drunk as a skunk, and then he was going to have Rhonda and get her out of his system so that he could concentrate on other girls. This virgin bit was a pain in the neck. Maybe once he got his first virgin out of the way he’d be able to concentrate on bigger and better things.
Although, when you stopped to think about it, it wasn’t easy to imagine any bigger and better things than the two big and good things under her blouse.
He hopped back in the car, put the jug of red wine in the backseat and broke some speeding laws on the way to her cabin, which was no mean trick in his father’s car. She was waiting for him, and, happily, her parents weren’t around. Coming on strong for the parents was a big thing with him, and it was sort of annoying that it was so useless with Rhonda’s parents. They didn’t really care who she went out with and she didn’t care what her parents thought about him, so talking to them was a total waste of time.
“Come with me,” he told her mysteriously. “Tonight is our night.”
He led her to the car and drove off to the lake. “We’re having a picnic,” he explained. “A special place that I’ve never taken you to before. It’s sort of a private place of mine.”
The place, he went on to explain, was an island in the middle of the lake. What he didn’t bother explaining was that he usually avoided the island because it was the dullest spot in the world.
He led her to the rowboat, carrying the jug of wine in one hand. She asked him what the wine was for and he told her a picnic was just not a picnic without a jug of wine. She seemed to accept the explanation.
Rowing across the lake was a real pain in the neck, but he was so fired up at the prospect of finally getting at Rhonda that the rowing didn’t bother him as much as it usually did. It was, he reflected, a nice night for seducing a virgin. Dark, quiet, just a moon in the sky with no stars out.
“The wine will be good,” he explained. “You see, there’s been something wrong with our relationship.”
Relationship was one of her favorite words.
“I know,” she said. “I know, Vince.”
“The wine will help,” he told her. “It will relax you, which is the important thing. You’ll be able to escape from your inhibitions.”
Inhibitions was another of her favorite words.
“I suppose so,” she said.
“And after all,” he went on, determined to fit her two favorite words into the same sentence, “inhibitions can damage a relationship.”
“You’re right, Vince,” she said. “You’re right.”
They beached the boat and climbed out onto the crummy little island. Instantly she started going into orbit over what a beautiful private place it was and how glad she was that he liked her enough to share it with her. While she talked on and on he managed to pull the cork out of the wine jug with his teeth.
“Come with me,” he said. “Sit by my side.”
She sat with him.
“Here,” he said. “Drink some of the wine.”
She took the jug and tilted it, taking a healthy swallow. He waited for her to choke on it but she didn’t. Instead she passed him the jug, her eyes shining.
“It’s good wine, Vince.”
He tried a sip and decided that either she was off her nut or that he just plain didn’t like wine. But it didn’t much matter. The important thing was getting the wine into her. He didn’t have to drink anything himself.
So he passed the jug back to her.
She took another swig and this time her eyes were very dreamy. When she spoke, her voice was husky.
“I think you’re right, Vince. I think maybe the wine is a good idea. It might relax me. It might push my inhibitions to one side so that the real person can shine through.”
“Sure,” he said.
“I want the real person to shine through, Vince. I don’t want to be inhibited forever. You know that, don’t you, Vince?”
“Sure,” he said. He handed the wine back to her and she took another drink. Then she kicked off her sandals and stretched out on the ground.
“Makes me sleepy,” she said. “I have to lie down, Vince.”
His heart jumped. It was working. Evidently she wasn’t used to drinking. Hell, she was young. Maybe this was the first time anybody’d ever given her anything stronger to drink than a glass of chocolate milk. What-ever it was, he knew he’d picked the right way to do it. If it was cheating to get a girl drunk, well, that was just too bad. If it was cheating; he was a cheat. It was working, and that was all he cared about.
“Vince—”
“What is it, Rhonda?”
“Come lie down next to me.”
She didn’t have to ask him a second time. It was the first time she’d ever wanted him near her — other times she’d merely accepted him. So he stretched out beside her and took her in his arms.
At first he thought it was going to be different. When he kissed her her lips pressed hard against his and her arms went around him, holding him tight. For a second, just a second, he thought the wine had done its work.
Then she relaxed completely. She was a statue again, a hunk of plaster.
He went on kissing her, forcing his tongue between her parted lips, running his hands over her body. But it wasn’t doing him a bit of good. He was getting excited, but that wasn’t important. The important thing was to get her excited.
“It’s no use, Vince.”
“Don’t worry.” Trying desperately to sound tender instead of obeying the impulse and snarling at her. “Everything’s going to be all right, Rhonda. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“But it’s not fair. I want to like it, Vince. I want to feel it.”
“I know you do.”
“But I just can’t.”
“Of course you can,” he said automatically. “Of course you can, dear.”
“I can’t.”
He sat up, reaching for the wine, and he told her that of course she could, that for a moment she had started to respond.
“I felt you getting... excited,” he said. He had almost said hot.
“For a second, but—”
“That’s a beginning,” he went on. “Have a little more wine. That should do it for you.”
She took the wine from him and he sighed with relief when she started to raise it to her lips. Then suddenly, she lowered it. Her eyes were troubled.
“Vince,” she said, “what will happen after I drink enough of the wine?”
“I’ll kiss you.”
“I know that. I mean — we won’t go all the way, will we?”
“Of course not.”
“That’s good,” she said. “I... I can’t help being worried. I know you wouldn’t try to do anything... wrong, but I can’t help worrying.”
“You don’t have to worry with me,” he said.
“I know it, Vince.”
“I’m not that kind of a person.”
“Oh, I know, Vince.”
“I wouldn’t try to take advantage of somebody like you, Rhonda.”
“I know.”
“I’m just doing this for you. That’s why I bought the wine — so that you’ll learn to relax. It hurts me to see you so tense all the time.”
He felt like telling her where it hurt.
“I know, Vince.”