I thanked her and hung up quickly.
Going to the bathroom, I hastily showered and shaved and then put on my newest suit. I wanted to look great when I saw Miss Doans, if I saw her. A few minutes after I had finished dressing, I was walking down the main street the two blocks to the hotel. Funny. I knew the place was a hotel but had never really considered it to be one. More, than likely this was because my only connection with the place had been downstairs – in the bar. I entered the bar now and walked into the secondary room where a group was playing soft music. I stood there and listened a moment before ordering a drink and was surprised at how well the music sounded. Like most people beyond the teens I had long been accustomed to expect the music of "today" to sound like a cross between old-fashioned square-dance music and noise. This particular group, however, didn't sound that way. I made a note to bring Mary here some evening. Mary liked music when it was listenable.
After finishing the drink I discovered where the stairs were that led to the second floor where the, hotel itself was located. I went upstairs and saw a female clerk – a rather old woman – behind a desk. Approaching her, I asked if Miss Doans was in her room.
The old gal looked at me out of pale blue eyes while she brushed a wisp of gray hair out of her eyes. Apparently she was deaf, for she asked me to repeat my question. "How's that, young man?" she asked.
"I'm looking for Miss Nora Doans. I'm a friend of hers. Will you tell me her room number, please?.
"You a friend of hers, you say?" The old gal was studying me suspiciously.
That's funny. Just this afternoon she was telling me she didn't know a soul in town."
"She knows me," I said impatiently. What the bell was wrong with this old biddy?
The old gal looked me up and down and grinned oddly. "Her number is two-five-two."
"Two-five-two," I repeated alter her. "Thanks. I put a five-spot in her hand.
"Buy yourself a new hat, grandma," I said, and walked away from the desk before she could say another word.
I found 252 easily – it was only fifty feet or so down the hallway. I started to turn the knob, then decided that that was definitely not the thing to do, not with this woman, Nora Doans. I knocked lightly and waited. The door swung open after a moment and I looked at her, taking care to push one of my feet forward in case she became angry, for some reason, and wanted to slam the door in my face. She didn't do this, however, but on the contrary actually smiled at me, her eyes lighting up considerably.
"Hello," she said. Were you looking for me or is this merely a coincidence?"
"Both," I said, which wasn't quite true. "May I come in I'd like to talk to you."
"Is your… wife with you?"
This was an absurd question; she could see very well that my wife wasn't with me, but perhaps she meant my wife might be waiting downstairs. "No," I replied.
"I'm alone, Miss Roans."
"Oh…, you remembered my name. How nice." Her voice was soft and… well, maddening. "Yes… you may come in, Mr. Horton. We'll have to-er-leave the door open. The lady at the desk might not like it if I had a… man in my room with the door closed."
Big deal. Who cared whether the old gal liked the door open or not. I stepped into the room and deliberately but carefully closed the door, not making a sound as I did so. Her eyes grew quite big as I turned and looked at her brunette beauty.
"You really shouldn't have done that, Mr. Horton."
"If I hadn't closed the door, Miss Doans every person that walked past your room would see that you, a schoolteacher, had a man in her room. This way they won't know."
She bobbed her head up and down. "Y-Yes, I see your point. Er – what was it you wanted to talk to me about."
"To came to… tell you that-er-my wife and I have decided to rent a room to you after all."
She actually clapped her hands. "Wonderful, just wonderful. I don't like staying in this place very well. There's always drunken men coming up from the bar and knocking on my door and asking me to let them in." She flashed me a quick look. "Naturally, I don't allow them inside."
I thought about how quickly she had opened the door when I had knocked but said nothing about it. Evidently, Miss Doans was just ever so little a phony of some sort. But then, what about it. Everyone has a trace of phoniness in him, though there are very few people willing to admit it. "Miss Doans, you'll have to stay here at the hotel for a few more-er-days." (It occurred to me that I was being one hell of a phony at the moment.) "My wife says she'll need time to prepare a room for you." I wondered if she would believe this nonsense and apparently she did, for she nodded and thanked me.
There was a silence in the room for a few moments. "I'm sorry I acted the way I did at my house, Miss Doans," I told her, feeling slightly uncomfortable about having to mention this. To my surprise she laughed softly. "Oh, that was all right. You were just being a man. Men are men and that is that. You couldn't help it. I wished I could have been more… amenable to… to…"
"Yes." I said, hoping she would finish the sentence.
She didn't. She changed the subject. "Would you like to sit down, Mr. Horton.
Only place I have, as you can see, is the bed. Perhaps we can sit on the bed … together." She was actually blushing now, which astonished me. I hadn't seen a woman blush this way in years.
"Thank you," I said roughly, and sitting down on the bed, I pulled her down flat on it and lifted her skirts high on her legs.
"Why… what are you doing, Mr. Horton?" she asked, her face very red now, her tone of voice faltering.
"My dear girl" I said fiercely. "Ever since I first laid eyes on you in my front room I've wanted to fuck you. In fact, I haven't been able to think of anything else. So… I came here… I found out you lived here… and here I am… hard-on and all. Which hard-on you are presently going to receive, all the way to the hilt. You, my dear Miss Doans, schoolteacher and apparent virgin, are about to be fucked."
Her eyes were wide now and there was fear in them. I looked at her closely.
There was something else in her eyes along with awful fear.
There was lust.
Chapter 6
I ran my hand up beneath her skirt and she struggled to free herself from my grasp. She even tried to knee me in the groin, but I was wise to that old trick and held her legs down tightly with my own. I got my fingers under the elastic of her pants and yanked hard. I heard clothing ripping and so I kept on yanking until her torn panties were in my hand. Throwing them aside, I got my hand under her skirt again – she was struggling frantically all during these maneuvers, but surprisingly enough, wasn't screaming, as most women in her predicament would be doing – I got my hand under her skirt again and found I had to force her legs apart in order to place my hand where I wanted it. I felt the fuzzy, scratchy-type hair that was above and around her cunt and, finally, got my leg between hers and forced them apart so I could insert a forefinger into her cunt hole.
"You dirty brute," she rasped in my ear. "I hate you, you filthy thing. You're nothing but a woman-molester."
I didn't believe her for one minute. In fact, I knew damned well that her anti-sex talk was merely superficial stuff meant to convey the impression that she was too good to indulge with a man, that she felt she was above being made love to, that sort of rot. I was determined to fuck her and fuck her I would – I didn't care what she called me. My cock was extremely hard – it was just about at the bursting point, if there is such a thing, and each time I poked my finger up her wet box and withdrew it, my whang would drip in my pants. With my other hand I pulled out my cock and giving her a hard yank, straightened her out so that she was lying flush with the bed. I had kept my leg between hers and now she tried fiercely to get my legs out from between hers.