Luther had kept his word. He never physically forced himself upon her. In public, his demeanor toward her was as affectionate and gallant as his rude nature allowed.
Soon after their marriage, Teresa had learned from commiserating friends that Luther had been seen here, there, everywhere with a variety of women known in south Florida as "creamers": young, nubile, tanned, addicted to the skimpiest of string bikinis and obscene T-shirts.
None of these liaisons seemed to last long, and as Teresa accumulated the testimony of witnesses, she came to realize what Luther was doing: he was hiring a succession of professional and semiprofessional bodies, paying for his pleasure but forming no lasting relationship.
Teresa approved.
Her own sex life was somewhat more complex. She had recognized since youth that she was not as intensely sexual as other girls her age.
But she was not totally without physical passion. Since moving to Florida, she had been conscious of a growing thaw. An ice dam was melting. The blazing sun, sapphire sea, caressing breeze, glimmering beach—all worked subtly to free her repressed appetite.
Now she masturbated briskly every Tuesday afternoon following her weekly visit to the beauty salon where she had her long sable hair shampooed and styled. And a manicure, pedicure, and bikini wax treatment.
More than that, she found herself strangely and powerfully attracted to Edward Holloway, the sixteen-year-old son of Jane and Bill. She was shrewd enough to realize that at his age, he was probably as unsophisticated sexually as she. That was part of his appeal.
But mostly it was his physical beauty that stirred her. Tall and muscular, but slender, he wore his sun-bleached blond hair almost shoulder-length. He moved with careless grace. His bronzed skin had the look of satin: soft, gleaming. It would be a delight to feel. To taste?
She had watched from this very terrace as he rode his surfboard. The nimble body crouched, long hair flung in the wind, body glistening with spray. She thought he would smell fresh and young, uncorrupted. Fantasies bloomed.
So Teresa Empt, standing on the balcony of her palace, alone in the darkness, dreamed her febrile dreams. And all about her the fertile land seemed choked with the scent of growing things. The nurturing ocean was there, the sweet wind, endless sky.
She left paradise reluctantly to retire to her empty bed. But the vision went with her. Of beauty, youth, and hope. Naked in her locked bedroom, she felt firm breasts and tight thighs. She thought she might be blossoming like some tropical plant: brilliantly colored, scented, turning toward the quickening light.
Dr. Theodore Levin rose to his feet when Lucy Bending came into his office—which was more than he had done for her parents. He thought her the most beautiful little girl he had ever seen. No, not a little girl. A miniature woman.
Shapely. Tall for her age. No evident baby fat. Clear, almost luminous features, with an enchanting smile of bright innocence. Long, flaxen hair without curl or wave. Her skin was particularly limpid.
She had a quality of steady repose, with a look of alert attention. Eyes a bluish-gray. Lips full and artfully bowed: a burning carmine. Her movements were well-coordinated, almost precise. She exhibited no signs of fear, resentment, or petulance.
Dr. Levin found himself smiling broadly.
"Please sit here, Lucy," he said hastily, gesturing toward the chair alongside his desk.
"Thank you," she said. The voice was clear, low-pitched, without quaver.
"Comfortable?" he asked.
"Oh yes."
He leaned forward to inspect her. She was wearing a party frock of eyelet cotton lined with blue. A darker blue sash encircled her waist. Bracelet of small auger shells. Strapped sandals of white leather over anklets. She carried a small plastic purse on a brass chain.
"I like your dress, Lucy," he said..
She looked down as if surprised, plucked at her ribbon sash. "Oh, this old thing ..."
He sighed, settled
Jessica Clare, Jen Frederick