• • •
Marilee Ritt had a relaxing evening.
Although it hadn’t been officially announced, she knew there would be no school tomorrow. Even if the buses could run their routes, which they couldn’t, it would cost the school district dearly to heat the buildings in temperatures this extreme.
Nevertheless, the superintendent took perverse pleasure in notifying everyone of the cancellation at the last possible moment, usually in the morning about an hour before the bell was due to ring. It was his little power play not to let everyone sleep in.
Rather than grade papers, which was what she usually did with her evenings, Marilee watched one of the videos she had brought home from the drugstore. The female protagonist was a vacuous character. The male was a cad with no redeeming qualities. The film’s only merits were the chemistry between the equally attractive actors and a good theme song performed by Sting. So what if there were holes in the plot and the dialogue was sappy? It wasn’t Dostoevsky, but it was fun escapism, and she had enjoyed it.
As she made her way through the house, she switched off lights and checked to see that all the doors were locked. Glancing down the bedroom hall, she noticed that no light was coming from beneath William’s door. She guessed he’d been in bed for hours. He was early to retire, early to rise.
She went into her bedroom and closed the door, but she didn’t turn on the lamp. A streetlight halfway down the block cast enough of a glow through the window shade for her to see her way around. She removed the decorative throw pillows from her bed and folded back the down comforter.
Then she went into the bathroom and began to undress. She took her time, removing each garment slowly, then carefully setting it aside before removing another. Her skin broke out in gooseflesh, but still she didn’t rush.
When she was naked, she removed the elastic band that held her ponytail and shook her hair free, combing her fingers through the wheat-colored strands, about which she was secretly vain. She liked feeling it loose and soft against her bare shoulders.
Her nightgown was hanging on a hook on the back of the door. She slipped it on. It was unseasonably skimpy, but she loved lacy, silky nightwear and wore it year-round. Shivering, she padded into the bedroom.
She was climbing onto her bed when he caught her around the waist with one arm and clamped his other hand over her mouth. She tried to scream and arched her back in an effort to break away from him.
“Shh!” he hissed, directly into her ear. “Be still or I’ll have to hurt you.”
Marilee stopped struggling.
“That’s more like it,” he said. “Is your brother asleep?”
“Hm-mmm?”
He squeezed her waist tighter, drawing her up hard against his chest. His breath was warm and humid against her ear and neck. “I asked if your brother is asleep?”
She hesitated a moment, then nodded.
“Okay. That’s good. Do as I say, and I won’t hurt you. Understand?”
Her heart was knocking against her ribs, but she gave another nod of assent.
“If I take my hand away from your mouth, will you scream?” She shook her head, perhaps too quickly to be sincere. He growled, “If you do—”
She shook her head more adamantly.
Gradually, he removed his hand from her mouth. She whimpered, “What are you going to do to me?”
Then he showed her.
CHAPTER
12
THE INTRUDER ROUGHLY GRABBED HER HAND, pulled it around to her back, and pressed her palm against his exposed penis. Marilee gasped in shock. He folded her fingers around his erection and moved her hand up and down.
She could see their reflection in the cheval glass across the room. It was an old-fashioned piece that had come to her through her mother and maternal grandmother. Wide oval mirror, cream-colored wood with pink roses painted on it.
But there was nothing quaint about the reflection caught in it now. It was carnal. Raw. Erotic. In the semidarkness she saw herself in her short, skimpy nightgown. He was in shadow. All she could make out of him was a watch cap and a pair of eyes meeting hers in the mirror.
Nudging the furrow between her buttocks, he whispered, “Lower your gown.”
She shook her head, slowly at first, then more decisively. “No.”