"Hi," the tall, sandy haired young man said. "Your phone isn't working – some clown clobbered a pole down the road so I came to give you a lift."
"A lift?" Sally Sue said, confused.
"To the croaker… the doctor. Your wheels are out of action, remember?.And you've got an appointment in a couple of hours."
"Oh… yes… thanks, Stan," Sally Sue mumbled, now recalling. "You didn't have to come by. I could have taken a cab."
"I wasn't going to miss a chance to see you again," he said, smiling boyishly even as he looked down into the soft valley of her half exposed breasts. He thought of how good she had been in bed, and how he had failed to bring her to orgasm, and the one thing he had to do was prove that he could. "You feeling better?"
"I never felt bad," Sally Sue said, brightening because just talking to Stan took her mind off the nightmare of sex. "It was just a little fever… I was dizzy for awhile."
"You wait and see the doctor's report. The medico says you don't work for a week.".
"Then he's an idiot!" Sally Sue shot back. "I feel fine!"
"Maybe – but listen to yourself." Stan pushed a button on the portable tape recorder slung over his shoulder. "Sounds like somebody tied knots in your tongue."
Sally Sue listened, and realized Stan was right. Her usually bell clear voice was blurred and fuzzy, the consonants indistinct. The medication she'd been given had messed up her voice. She couldn't go on the air until it was spent from her. body. Abjectly she said, "What happens to the Sally Sue Show until then?"
"The Sally Sue Show is alive and healthy," Stan told her. "A little editing of tapes and switching commercials around was all it took. You never heard of reruns?"
"You're beautiful!" she said in honest exuberant gratitude. "Have some coffee while I get dressed."
The distressed girl Di was suddenly in good spirits. The unexpected visit from Stan had almost, but not quite, wiped the memory of the night from her mind. And the visit to the clinic was also encouraging. The doctor examined her carefully and pronounced her fit, not in need of more medication as he replaced the dressing on the wound the hawk had left. But he seemed mildly disturbed after a close look into her eyes.
"Miss Bennett… by any chance have you taken any drugs other than those we gave you?" he asked.
"Why no," Sally Sue said, believing she was telling the truth. "Not even aspirin. Why?"
"Your eyes are dilated. Well, that could be a side effect of what you were given. If you feel a headache coming on, I suggest you wear sun glasses for a couple of days."
The long legged young woman thanked him and left, suddenly realizing her eyes did burn. Stan stopped at the drugstore long enough for her to buy shades and then took her home.
"You must be feeling housebound," he said. "How about dinner tonight?"
"Well.. " Sally Sue didn't really want to go out. But even less did she want to stay home with her morbid thoughts. And if Stan made love to her, it might wipe out some of. the fragmented memories of the sordid sex with Virgie and Terry. "All right. I'd love to! Eightish?"
"Delicious," he said with a grin as he dropped the fast sports car into low gear and roared away.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The day dragged interminably on for the emotionally disturbed young woman, and several times she wished the big motorcycle and the roadster hadn't been disabled. Yet she realized it was for the best, because her eyes were still huge, overly sensitive to light, and didn't seem to track just right. She knew she might hurt herself if she tried to drive. The animals which ordinarily gave her so much pleasure in her solitude suddenly seemed to be an annoyance.
It was impossible to get the passion of the previous night out of her mind. The more she thought of it, the more dismayed Sally Sue became as slowly returning details emerged. She knew she really must have been out of her head and, of course, nothing like that would ever happen again.
What frightened her was the shameless – almost mindless – arousal that surged through her voluptuous body, the tingling in her loins that came from just thinking about having her ravenous mouth so deliciously filled with young Terry's penis and finally becoming an eager receptacle for his spurting cum. And even more perverted, she thrilled at the thrilling sensation of little Virgie's smooth teenage thighs enclosing her face as her tongue burrowed in the sweet little slit of the blonde child's delectable young cunt!
For Sally Sue, the depth of her shame and degradation was an emotion she had never felt before. There was no way to rationalize away her vile misdeeds, even by blaming them on the medicine which had been injected into her. With her upbringing she should have been able to resist, even subconsciously. But a well of wantonness had been tapped.
The only good thing she could see in it was that it had revealed her inner nature and perhaps prevented some even more serious thing happening in the future. Sally Sue realized she had been a fool to deny her body's needs and yearnings all these years just because of an unfaithful husband. She knew that for a long time she would not be able to contemplate marriage again because the hurt was still deep. But there was now the knowledge that she could enjoy sex in a variety of ways. And in the permissive modem society, nobody would be likely to castigate her if she found a compatible man and simply lived with him.
Sally Sue knew she would have to do this, or risk falling into the carnal trap of her awakened flesh again.
To occupy her mind she caught up on her housework and then began drafting and testing some new commercials on her tape recorder. Then it was time to bathe and dress. She put on one of her most alluring outfits, a mini-sheath with low cut bodice that left the firm full mounds of her breasts exposed almost to the sensitive buds of her nipples. She brushed her mass of blue-black hair until it gleamed and then slipped on soft leather, calf-high boots with narrow heels that enhanced the long, slender perfection of her legs.
As she studied her statuesque reflection in the bathroom mirror, Sally Sue wondered if the costume was perhaps a little too daring. It was one she wore frequently when broadcasting from the Trap, but that was a professional thing. She knew a lot of the male customers – and maybe some of the women – came to the night club not to listen to her mike chatter but to ogle her. Well, after all, she was in show business, Sally Sue reasoned. She decided to wear the revealing dress.
With relief Sally Sue learned Stan was taking her to a small but very exclusive dinner house miles out in the country. She had always wanted to go there but for one thing it was, for her budget, outrageously expensive. And as she very seldom dated, she would have felt uncomfortable in such surroundings without an escort. Even now she shuddered when she looked at the list of delicacies – Chateaubriand, breast of guinea hen, pheasant, Maine lobster, quail and numerous dishes with exotic French names which she couldn't come close to identifying. Sally Sue's mouth watered. She was disturbed to see that no prices were listed and guessed that if you had to ask, you couldn't afford it.
The raven-tressed disc jockey found herself puzzled. She knew that with her talent fees and the separate salaries she was paid by the Trap and Rosie's, that she had an income five times that of the lean young man across the table in the dim lighted booth. She was well aware of how inflation and taxes ate into her purse – so how could a mere trainee who didn't take home over a hundred dollars a week afford to bring her to such a quietly extravagant place? She didn't think Stan Oakes was the sort to spend a huge amount of money just to impress her. Why should he – he'd already been in her bed!