bathroom, which meant it was the end of the show. I could have left then, but didn’t. I wanted to get another glimpse of her. She had to come back.
I stood silently at the window, waiting for her.
Suddenly a door opened. I whirled around to find her standing there, in the doorway, pointing a gun at me. “Don’t move,” she said. “Don’t move or I’ll shoot.”
I froze in terror, staring down the mouth of the gun, which looked like a cannon to me. “I wasn’t doing anything,” I stammered. “Just watching you. I didn’t hurt you.”
She didn’t say a word.
“Look,” I pleaded, “just let me go. I won’t bother you anymore. I promise I’ll stay away from here.”
She ignored me. “I saw you in the mirror,” she said. “Saw you watching me. I danced for you. Did you like the way I danced?”
I nodded dumbly, unable to speak.
“It was for you,” she said. “I liked your eyes on me. I liked the way you looked at me.”
She smiled. “Come inside.”
I hesitated. Was this a trap? Had she called the police?
“Come here,” she said. “Come inside. Don’t be afraid.”
I followed her into the house, into the bedroom. “I want you,” she said. “I want you.” She slipped out of the housecoat and tossed it over a chair.
“Come on,” she said. “I know you want me. I could tell from the way you looked at me. Come here.”
She set the gun on the dresser and motioned for me to step closer. “I want you to make love to me,” she said.
I walked over to her, and she threw her arms around me. “Take me,” she moaned.
I pushed her away. “No,” I said. “I don’t want that. I just wanted to watch you. I wouldn’t do that.”
She pressed against me again. “I want you,” she insisted. She opened her arms and I felt her hot breath on my face.
There was only one way to stop her. I picked up the gun from the dresser. “Don’t come any closer,” I warned. “Leave me alone.”
“Don’t be silly.” She smiled. “You want me and I want you.” She kept coming closer as I retreated.
That’s when it happened—when the gun went off. The noise resounded in the small bedroom, and she crumpled and fell. “Why?” she moaned. Then she died.
The police beat me. They beat me harder than last time, and they called me a pervert. They think I tried to rape her, but that’s not true. I wouldn’t do a thing like that.
LIE BACK AND ENJOY IT
IT WAS THE AFTERNOON, and the sun was beginning to dip to the level of the horizon. Frank pressed down heavily on the accelerator, gunning the car smoothly along the highway. Just a few more miles, he thought. Just a few more miles and he’d be home, if you could call an empty room in a run-down hotel home. Just a few more miles and he could take a hot bath and drink himself to sleep.
Then he saw the girl. At first glance he took her for just another hitchhiker, and speeded up to pass her by. Then his eyes took in the long hair and the swell of the breasts, and his foot found the brake pedal and slowed the car to a stop. He reached across the front seat and opened the door.
“Hop in,” he said.
She climbed into the car and sat down beside him. He took a good look then, and he liked what he saw.
She was wearing a pair of faded blue dungarees and a man’s shirt, open at the throat, but even the shapeless clothing couldn’t conceal the shapeliness of her figure. Her breasts were large and full, and they pressed against the flannel fabric of the shirt. Her hair was long and jet black; her face very attractive, with high cheekbones and large brown eyes. As he looked at her, Frank felt the blood surging through his veins. He’d been a long time without a woman.
“Going to Milford?” she asked, naming a town a few miles the other side of Frank’s destination.
“Sure,” he said. She leaned back in the seat and closed the door, setting her small black purse on her lap.
He put the car in gear and eased back onto the highway again, watching her out of the corner of his eye. Pretty, he thought. Almost beautiful. And so very young, too—she couldn’t be over nineteen.