Read Butterflies in Heat Online

Authors: Darwin Porter

Butterflies in Heat (17 page)

He pulled her close, burying his mouth in her neck. Her lips soft and sweet loved him back, tasting his ear as he tasted her.

Then the calmness was over. Plunging his tongue in her mouth, he demanded more. She was eager to give. Inside her, he was in command, riding and taking. His hands found her breasts, large for her body and tipped by big brown nipples. Skin meeting skin, fondling and smothering—never such femininity and smoothness. A crescendo of sensation, and it was over.

Too soon.

He'd made love to a woman-child. No one had ever given of herself so freely to him. Nor had he ever returned love in such a way. Nothing held back, everything delivered. He lay on top of her, moaning softly, completely drained.

Completely in love.

The next day Numie joined the other commune dwellers. Spence liked to plow in the fields, but Bob preferred house work. Numie joined Spence. Distrustful of strangers, Maria finally had dinner with them on Numie's second night.

In three days Lisa's twin girls were calling him daddy. He liked the sound of the word.

Returning from the garden, Numie found Lisa in the kitchen making bread from carob flour. The smell of coffee filled the air.

"A few days in the country air, and you've gotten rid of that pasty New York City look. You look like a man should. A little color in your face."

"Thanks," he said, moving to kiss her.

She gave herself to him right in front of the twins.

"You'll bum the bacon," he said, breaking away.

"I read the other day that bacon's probably the worst thing you can eat," she replied. "It's just as well."

May stretched into June, one day going by much like another.

Numie was never bored, though. Or never too tired to make love to Lisa.

Summer quietly appeared, the yellow of forsythia giving way to the bright red of roses. The leaves on the chestnut tree in front of the farmhouse turned from lime to dark green.

As hot weather came, the tree no longer shaded Grandma. She spent more time in her bed and less in her favorite rocker.

August was a little windy, but the trips with the twins into the hills were still long and leisurely. Lisa always packed a picnic lunch. Goat bells and sundowns—the month came and went so quickly.

September brought a chillness to the air. It began around four o'clock in the afternoon. By eight the nights were growing cold. Lisa, though, was still warm.

She was by now deep into vegetables. No more animals were to be slain, not even a chicken.

One day in early autumn, Numie was overcome with a passionate desire for a hamburger. He headed for a roadhouse run by a heavyset man from Cleveland. Devouring the juicy hamburger, Numie ordered another, this time with a lot of onion to disguise the taste of meat on his breath.

Back at the farm, something was different. A new van was parked in front, with an Oregon license plate. The twins were playing.

Picking Dell up, he asked, "Whose van is that?"

"It
belongs to daddy," she said. "He's back."

A chill came over Numie. "What do you mean? I'm your daddy."

"No, our
real
daddy," Phyllis said defiantly.

Putting Dell down, Numie headed for the living room. Empty. Then the sounds, those unmistakable sounds, coming from the bedroom upstairs.

On the bed,
their
bed, Lisa's long swan neck was bobbing up and down on the cock of a handsome giant of a man, with long blond hair and blue eyes. He was like a bigger version of Numie, his body radiating power and masculinity.

Sensing Numie's presence, Lisa looked up.
"Numie."
The sound of his name was like an accusation. "Paul and I are busy now," she finally managed to say.

"Who in the fuck is Paul?" Numie asked.

"He's my loving man," she said, her eyes filling with fear.

"Can't you hear?" Paul asked, rising up on his elbows.

"The lady said we're busy. By the way, thanks for looking after my chick this summer while I was up in Oregon finding us a farm."

Dumbfounded, Numie stood and stared.

"Now if you'll pardon us, we've got some business to finish," Paul said. "Or do you get turned on watching a big dick get sucked? Bob told me when I asked about you that you're a queer hustler.
If
you want me, you'll have to wait till Lisa's had her fill."

Fists clenched, Numie turned and walked rapidly down the stairs, through the living room, and out onto the front porch where the twins were playing. He paused silently. Phyllis and Dell looked up at him, but he ignored their stares. In a nervous stride, he crossed the yard, heading down the path.

"Numie," Lisa called, chasing after him. She was wearing panties but no cover for her breasts. "I can't help it." Catching up with him, she clutched his arm. "Please
try
to understand. I love Paul. He's not like the rest of us here. Not loving and kind. More selfish. But I just love him. Always have. I thought he was gone for good, so I never mentioned him.
It
hurt too much to talk about it. But he's come back. Plans to take me and the girls to Oregon with him. I've always wanted to see Oregon. It's supposed to be so nice there. And they are his girls, too."

Numie looked at her long and hard, then touched her hand, removing it gently from his arm. "Good-bye, Lisa," he said softly. "Summer's over"

"Numie," she called out again to his neck.

But he didn't look back—not at Lisa, not at the twins, not at anyone. His eyes were fixed on the open road ahead.

"NUMIE," the falsetto voice of Leonora called out across the patio. "You're late, as usual!"

Chapter Twelve

His hand on the doorknob, Numie hesitated, then entered an
upstairs room.

"Watch the stairs," Leonora called.
It
wasn't just the stairs that made her issue the warning.
It
was a way she had of calling attention to her presence.

Going down three steps, he was in a semi-darkened sunken chamber. The shutters were closed at the windows, and the room was badly ventilated, like attics on a summer day. On the table in the center lay Leonora. A short, fat woman was leaning over her. Against the wall a steam cabinet stood
—
with other machines. Rows and rows of bottles lined the shelves of this beauty parlor.

"So, you decided to apologize for your outrageous behavior?" Leonora said imperiously. She was not really trying to add to his discomfort, but wanted to remove all guilt from her shoulders.

Numie was so taken back he didn't know what to reply at first. His body tightened, then he said, "Is that what Ralph told you?" He sighed, not expecting her to answer. "Yes, I'm sorry," he managed to mutter softly. Then in a slightly louder voice, he asked, "Let's forget it, okay?

"Come closer, young man," Leonora said. Youth filled her
with gnawing despair, and she was constantly calling attention
to it.

"Tangerine, " Numie said, surprised, making out the outlines of her features for the first time. "I didn't recognize you"

"Please, darling," Leonora interrupted, slightly peevish that he was looking at Tangerine and not at her. "Don't interfere with Tangerine's work"

"I was just speaking to her
—
that's all," Numie said, this time not bothering to disguise his anger. "Why is it so dark in here?"

"I keep the room dark," said Leonora. "I
must
"
This excuse didn't seem quite plausible, so she covered her eyes with one hand. "Light destroys my eyes."

Moving toward her on the pile carpet, he saw Leonora more clearly now. She lay stark naked on her back, skin gleaming.
Tangerine was rubbing an oily solution into her legs.

Leaning over the body, Tangerine presented her cheek to Numie to kiss. "Sorry I conked out last night."

Leonora resented this display of intimacy over her body. "Numie," she said sharply, "Tangerine shouldn't drink that cheap wine. See that she doesn't. It's wretched for her skin." She smiled. "When I take her out, I give her champagne."

"I
know."
He shifted his weight from one foot to· the other. That was really rubbing it in!

Sensing his discomfort, and fearing she had gone too far, Leonora said, "Now, don't be bitter. I know you're finding it hard to forgive me for not bailing you out of jail. But I don't reward thievery."

"You did offer me one of those cigarettes," Numie protested.

The torrid heat was beginning to bother Leonora—that and the conversation. "It really doesn't concern me now. You must expect to pay the penalties in life." With that, she planned to dismiss the subject for all time.

Protected by the near darkness, he could stare freely at her nudity. Her breasts were surprisingly firm. Amazing for a woman of her age. And she had no pubic hair.
It
was all shaved off!

Leonora was clearly aware of what he was doing. In fact, she was enjoying it. To add to that enjoyment, she decided to signal his attention. "So," she said, indicating surprise, "you're a voyeur!"

"I'm sorry," he stammered, stepping back. "Why don't I come back—when you're dressed?"

"Don't be foolish,
mon cheri."
Taking hold of his hand in a convulsive grasp, she held
it
to her breast. It had been a long time since she let a man put a hand on her breast.
It
was not erotic or stimulating in any way. What was, was the pride in knowing that her breasts were still quite firm. "We're all voyeurs. In one way or another." Slowly she released his hand.

Although he'd been used to seeing people nude all his life, he'd never felt like such an intruder before as he did in front of Leonora. It was like interviewing the president of the United States when he was on the toilet. "About the job ... " he said.

"Oh, yes," she answered, miffed that he didn't comment upon the texture of her breasts. "You're desperately in need of work" Her neck had started to ache. "Actually, I don't have a job for you."

"But you need a chauffeur," he pointed out. "And I'm an excellent driver."

"As I said, I don't have a job for you." She assumed a casual tone of voice. "But Ralph claimed you were starving. Frankly, I feel sorry for you, knowing how difficult it must be to find work in
yo
u r
line ." She never hired a man without making him feel it was an act of supreme charity on her part.

"Will you give me a job?" he asked, more eager than ever for a commitment from her.

"All right, all right, darling," she said impatiently. She was the one who should be applying the pressure. Numie would have to be taught manners. "Don't bore me with details. That's what I pay Ralph for."

"But he said you had to okay it."

Numie was right. But she couldn't let him get away with it. Reaching for a large shimmering handkerchief, she gingerly dabbed at her perspiration-laden brow.
"Everybody
depends on me for
everything"

A kind of fury rose inside Numie. Leonora had the power to humiliate totally. He hated her at this moment—hated his coming to her.

She searched for his face in the darkness, but couldn't see. The Numies of the world could never understand her—never understand that she must live her life like that of a great actress, filled with glamour and impulse. She couldn't confine herself to hours or time schedules. At any time of the day or night, he'd have to be at her beck and call if he agreed to be her driver. Best she inform him, "My heart never knows from moment to moment where I'll need to take it. Sometimes, late at night, I just like to ride around the island—deep in meditation."

"That's okay with me," he said, though he didn't mean
it.
Her presence seemed gargantuan.
It
wasn't that she was tall. More than that. In the shadows, she loomed like a giant, majestic bird descended from another planet. Compared to her, he just disappeared. Never so unimportant and insignificant.

"I
run my world,"
she said, rising slightly from the table on the power of her own voice. She wasn't thinking of him now, but of the vicious attacks made upon her in this town. Numie would soon hear the lies spread about her, if he hadn't already. She was certain Ralph had fed him plenty of information. But she had to let Numie know she didn't care what people said about her, as long as she remained true to herself. "I have tremendous self-discipline," she said, "and I demand the same of my employees. I'm driven by an unrelenting passion for quality, and that, too, I demand of all those who work for me."

Numie felt he was floating in slime-green still water on this torpid afternoon. Always in pursuit of the point, he asked, "What will this all-consuming job pay?"

Aghast at his impertinence, she decided to penalize him severely by lowering his salary from what she had considered. "Sixty-five dollars a week," she said emphatically.

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