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From: "E S" <ellbm@altavista.net>
Subject: {ASSM} Girl in the Cottage, part 2
Date: Tue,  8 Oct 2002 07:10:15 -0400
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The Girl in the Cottage 

Part Two


You are not working, are you? It was the neighbor, the farmer's
wife, an old cat if there ever was one. The girl sat in her
pajamas at the kitchen table mixing cereals with milk. Not
feeling well? the neighbor inquired. Just a bit tired, the girl
said. Oh, I'll fix some coffee for you, I got all the time in the
world. Don't, not for my sake, the girl said. Oh, then I just
make some for me. But just in case... 

After relating the latest gossip the old cat struck at her
errand. Casually: So you had a visitor last night? Visitor? the
girl said. The one with the blue Mercedes. It might have been
dark green, too. 

No, I don't know who that might be, the girl said. Arrived at
about eight and left shortly after midnight. Sorry, I don't want
to be nosy... I mean, noone else lives down this road, but us. 

The girl pressed her temples. It must have been Anne, she said. I
don't know much about cars. Neither do I, said the neighbor. John
said it wasn't a lady's car, exactly, so maybe it's her
husband's? Yeah, coming to think of it, the girl said. But John
says it was a rental car, this Hertz' logo, you know.

When the neighbor finally left the girl mixed herself some
aspirin, then she threw the cup into the wall. Damn, she said.
Damn, damn. She put the bed sheets in the old washing machine and
prayed it should not give up on her. Then she tried to do some
reading. 

Her husband phoned in the afternoon. The next day nobody phoned
at all. She felt uneasy down at the grocery, just picked up the
necessities. On the third day, in the afternoon, she decided to
bike into town, half an hours ride. It was a small town. She
waved to the farmer's wife when she rolled by. 

She had a café latte down at the harbor. A breeze made the sun
endurable. With no books to read she studied the people passing
by, tourists, retired people, mothers with children, fishermen.
On the pier some boys were fishing. 

She strolled along the marina and down to the shipyard. A lot of
cars there, some with trailers. The workers were still around, at
this time of the year they worked in shifts. In winter the place
was rather desolate. She went back, all the way up to the old
church. 

She was late for the first movie at the cinema, it was half past
six. She went down the alley to the Grand, a hotel that was
impressing in the 30's. Nowadays everybody stayed at the Ocean. A
woman with a blue cap was ticketing the cars in the square. One
of them was dark green. 

A Mercedes. She could read the rear sticker through the
windscreen: Hertz. She sat down on a bench nearby and frowned.
She took another look at the Mercedes. A cheap ball point pen on
the dashboard. A blank notepad on the passenger seat. She didn't
know Hertz had Mercedes for rent. In this town? She returned to
the bench. 

Shortly after seven three men left the hotel, one in a suit and
white shirt, necktie. He looked like an accountant. One in a
beige sports jacket. She recognized him from the paper, he was
the owner of the shipyard, a stout, bearded man in his 60's. One
in a blue sweater carrying an attaché case. That was him. 

The girl just sat there. He saw her about then, stopped, opened
his mouth and the closed it again. The others called out:
Dinner's waiting. He took the ticket from under the wiper,
scribbled a few words on it and put it back. A goddam ticket, he
called back. 

They were heading for the the seafood restaurant down by the
pier. She stayed on her bench, breathing heavily and shaking her
head. Bastard, she mumbled, bastard. She then picked up the
ticket, crumbled it to a little ball and threw it in a
litter-bin. 

The girl sat brooding at a window table with the pasta half
eaten. Another glass? the waiter asked and showed the Chianti.
And from the corner of his mouth: For you, pretty lady, on the
house. No, I'm fine, she said. 

She had her bike outside the bus station but made a detour via
the square. The Mercedes was still there. She went straight for
the litter-bin and looked into it. Empty bottles, melted
icecream. She looked over her shoulder, then started digging. She
soon found it. 

It was smeared and wet but she uncrumbled it on the hood of the
car and read: Around 10, back row of the Dragon. She put the
ticket back under the wiper and looked at her watch. It was
10.30. Shit, she mumbled. She hurried back the same alley she
came, turned right at the pizza house and fell into a trot. She
arrived to the Dragon when the man in the box office turned the
sign: Closed. 

A ticket, please, she pleaded. You sure? The man sounded
sarcastic. She saw the poster behind him. The night movie was
x-rated. She confirmed. Aha! he said. Meeting someone.

She adjusted to the dark, then made her way up the aisle. A stale
smell, red plush and not very many customers. It was not outright
porn. The backrow was empty but for a teenager to the right with
a big bag of pop corn. She picked the seat in the left corner and
shut her eyes. She was still panting. 

It was ten to eleven. On the screen a barebreasted lady spoke a
lot. Then she started to break porcellain. It was a french movie.
Some men cast eyes in her direction, she watched the screen. 

Suddenly he spoke in her ear: Nothing like cinema noir to kick
the hormones into action. He smelled of liquor. How did you get
in? she said, startled. There's always a back door, didn't you
know that? You didn't even wink, she said. Should I have  invited
the others? You know what I mean. Shut up, he said and kissed
her. 

His hand was soon between her legs. She put up a mock resistance
but raised her butt so he could slip her panties off. People
might see... she whispered. I'll take care of that, he said. 

She lay back with the skirt around her waist and her legs spread,
kissing him. Easy now, he whispered and opened his fly, I want
you to do something for me. Yes? He took her by the neck and
forced her down. Suck me, he said. She quickly glanced at the
teenager, but he seemed not to notice. She licked carefully at
the tip of his cock. It was hard and demanding. 

You really are a little girl, he said softly. He positioned her
on the floor between his legs, and pressed her head back to get a
better angle. Then, with his hands around her head, he began to
use her mouth. Breathe through the nose, he whispered. She was
concentrating now, trying to fall in with his rythm.

Fine, he said, now for the real thing. He forced his cock down
her throat till she got his pubic hair in her nose, then kept her
in that position while making small moves. She tore at him to get
air. He released her. Good girl, he mumbled. I don't think
deepthroating was part of your marital curriculum. 

She gasped, tears running from her eyes. Again he pushed his
shaft down her throat. She tried to be brave and could take it a
little longer. He gave her time to recover and then resumed, not
deep, just to the back of her mouth. Then he got eager, pushed it
in all the way and then once again. He growled, she tore at him
but he didn't let go. She threw herself backwards and got free.
Spurts of semen hit her face and clothes. 

She lay panting on the floor, the blouse drenched in sweat, skirt
in disorder. You are learning, girl, how was that? Awful, she
croaked. 

What the hell are you two doing? The clerk from the boxoffice
stood over them and pointed his torchlight on the girl, who
shielded her eyes. You better take your customers elsewhere, now
get out or I'll call the vice squad. The girl scrambled to her
feet, not daring to look up. Your attaché case? He spoke to the
man in the blue sweater who calmly pushed the shirt inside the
waist. Yes, we're just about finished.

They went out the exit door, he with his arm around her and she
limping. Eyes followed them. Out in the alley she stopped. One of
my sandals is in there, she said. He chuckled. I don't we should
try our luck. I'll buy you another pair.

Up at the old church there were benches in the dark and no people
around. God, she said. I can't show myself in this town ever
again. Don't worry, he said and played with her hair. You can't
imagine how little people remember. Just stay erect and nobody
will believe what a little cocksucker you are. Don't say so, she
said.

He had a handkerchief and wiped off her face. It was not much of
a help with the clothes. He threw it away.

They walked through the cemetary, she with her head on his
shoulder, he with an arm around her waist. From time to time he
fondled her bottom. She smiled. You forgot your panties too, he
said. He kissed her and fingered her from behind. She was still
wet. 

He led her to the little garden shed at the entrance of the
cemetery. Between the shed and the hedge the shadow was deep. He
turned her around and made her lean against the wall. You need to
be fucked too, right? he said while he fingered her pussy. Then
he  bent his knees and entered her in one stroke. She cried out.

You mash me, she said. He laid her face down on the ground among
leaves from last summer and put his sweater under her stomach and
entered her again. 

Each thrust made her moan. She began to shake. He steadied her
with a grip around her neck and now she was losing control. He
silenced her with a hand over her mouth and felt the
contractions. You are a bitch in heat, girl. And after a while he
couldn't resist and he pressed himself violently into her and
froze.

Asleep? No, she said and opened her eyes. Thanks. She gave him a
quick kiss. He helped her on her feet and she took off her only
sandal. Give it to me, he said. Shall I drive you home? No, but
you can escort me to the bus station. And a few minutes later:
Can I have your handkerchief? Sorry, I threw it away. She
grimaced: Something is running down my legs. 

He stood outside the station and saw her crisscross the uphill
slope on her bike. She looked greenish in the yellow light. She
disappeared among the pines without turning once. 

SORENSEN 


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