The Sin Scene

CHAPTER ONE He snubbed out his cigarette, wished he had sufficient, funds to offer her a drink. She looked nice. It would be pleasant to become acquainted with her, to get to know her well. He shrugged. He'd have to forego this adventure. A guy can't pick up a broad without dough. He picked up his glass of beer, sipped it, put it down, glanced in the mirror again. She was still giving him the bold eye. This time she smiled broadly, got down off her stool and walked over to htm. "Hi," she said. He could smell the expensive perfume she wore. "Hi," he said, his pulse racing slightly. She did not wait to be asked, but pulled out the stool next to him, sat on it, her skirt crawling high on her thigh. He glanced at her legs, noting how perfectly shaped they were. He almost moistened his lips but refrained from it. He did not want to appear too eager. She leaned close to his ear, said, "Well ... you buy or do I?" He turned on his stool so that he was facing her, looked her squarely in the eye, smiled. "I'd like to," he said. "The fact is, I'm broke." She laughed, and he saw how even and white her teeth were. "I had an idea you might be," she said softly. He sat up slightly straighter, looked at her dark eyes again. Was she putting him on? There was nothing in her eyes that seemed to suggest it, but you could never be certain about some women. "How could you tell?" he said, a trifle more coolly than he had intended. She was still smiling. "When a guy is broke and he sees a girl that he'd like to ... well, he has a certain look about him. That's how I knew." "Sorry," he said. "That's how it goes. If you're broke, you're broke." She brushed her long straight black hair out of her eyes. "Don't be embarrassed because of it," she said. "It happens." He grinned at her. "Yes. Yes, it does," he agreed. She crossed her legs, the one nearest him being on top of the other. As she did so, her skirt crept higher, revealing the silver-colored garters that were fastened to the black nylons. In spite of not wanting to stare rudely at her, he did so. She caught him doing it, smiled. "Do you like my garters?" she asked. "They're called Sin Seed. How about that for a brand name?" "Very nice," he responded, but he was not talking about the name of the garters. "I've been sitting over there watching you for some time," she said. "I guess you know that." "Yes," he said. "I do. I've been watching you, too." It was her turn to twist around on the stool, facing him. "Look," she said. "I don't want to offend your male ego, but may I buy you a drink?" He did not hesitate. "Yes. If you'll let me buy you one back some other time." "All right," she said, and ordered two drinks from the bartender. Neither of them spoke until the drinks were brought. Then she said, lifting her glass, "Here's to ... us." He lifted his beer. "Right," he said. "And here's to seeing you again when I'm flush." They drank, set their glasses down at the same time. She turned again, looked at him, smiled nicely. "May I ask you a personal question?" "Depends." "Not too personal." "All right. Shoot." "Are you out of a job? He picked up his glass, tasted the beer, set the glass down. "Yes. Does that show, too?" "Sort of. I'm psychic, maybe." He grinned. "Wanna tell me more about myself?" She shook her head. "Would you like a job?" "I might. You have one for me?" She bit her lips, looked away, took a sip of her drink, looked back at him. She is lovely, he thought-she is the prettiest woman I've seen today. That black dress is just right for her, what with all that black hair and those nice dark eyes. He saw her bite her lips again. "I have a job for you ... if you can cut it," she said slowly. "Tell me about it," he said, interested. She picked up her glass, drained it. "Drink ip. Come with me. We can't discuss it here." He finished his beer, set the glass down. "All right. Why not." She walked swiftly from the bar and he followed her. Outside, the sun was shining brightly. It was a hot July day. He saw her take sunglasses fro er black purse, put them on. They caused her to look even more exotic than without them. She took his arm. The touch of her fingers was pleasant, nice. He was not certain of it, but he thought she squeezed his arm a bit. That, too, was pleasant. She steered him around a corner and they walked to a parking lot a short distance away. When they arrived beside a green Ford, she let go of his arm, took keys from her purse, unlocked the door, rolled down the window on the driver's side to cool the car off. She gestured and he took it to mean she wanted him to walk about the car, which he did. She opened the door, and he followed her example by rolling down the window on that side. "We'd better wait a minute," she said. "This car is like an oven." "Yes," he said. "It's a hot day." They got into the car finally and she started the motor. "Where are we going?" he asked with curiosity. "To my aunt's home. What's your name? I have to know it." "John Deering. What's yours?" "Almost the same as yours. Joan." "Joan what?" "Joan Herlick." "Glad to know you," John Deering said, and meant it. She smiled, backed the car around in position, drove out into traffic. He discovered she was an excellent driver, handling the car expertly. He did not speak again until much later. He saw her swing the car into a driveway. "This your aunt's place, Joan?" he asked. She nodded. "Your future employer, John," she said. "I guess you could call her an employer." "What is it I'm supposed to do?" he asked. She did not answer him immediately, but fumbled getting the car keys into her purse. Finally, she looked up at him. "I think I'd better let her tell you that," she said. Both of them climbed out of the car and John stood looking about at the place. The lawn was well-kept and very large. There was fine-looking shrubbery all around the edges of the yard. He turned his attention to the house, noted it was a mammoth place built of stone. It was not a new residence. It appeared to have been there for a long time. Everything about the place locked like money. "Your aunt," he said. "She must be wealthy." She came around the front of the Ford, took his arm again, and again he thought she squeezed it a little. "Yes. My aunt is a very wealthy woman. That is, she will be later on. She's thirty-nine. Don't let her kid you she is thirty. That's what she'll try to do, probably." John thought this somewhat odd, but he said nothing about it. "What is her name?" he inquired as they walked up the stone steps to the door. "Julia Ainsworth." "Does she want a gardener or something?" he asked with curiosity. "If that's what she's looking for, it lets me out. I know nothing about such things." Joan Herlick laughed softly. "Not exactly a gardener, but ... it does have something to do with ... planting." He stopped in his tracks just before they arrived at the door. "I know absolutely nothing about planting," he said seriously. "Oh, yes you do," she said mysteriously. "You'll see what I mean when she talks to you." She took another key from her purse, unlocked the large door, pushed it. It did not go all the way open. He pushed it open farther and they entered a long hallway. It was cool in the house and quite dark, he noted. "Stay here," she said in his ear. "I'll be right back." "All right," he said, and grinned. He felt a bit ridiculous about all this, but did not know why. He waited for her to return. She did not. He became slightly impatient, put this feeling down. He knew being impatient was one of his defects, tried hard not to succumb to it. He waited some more. Still she did not return. He saw a door off to his left and down the hall a few feet. He went to it, saw it was not closed all the way, pushed it open a few more inches, looked in. It was a mammoth room, filled with all sorts of different types of furniture. The carpeting was a dark maroon in color. He thought it was unusual but attractive. John had something of an eye for color. He looked about the room again, saw a fireplace at the far end. He also saw a man sitting in a chair. The man's back was turned to John. John was about to leave the doorway when the man turned, saw him, got to his feet, walked slowly over to him. John noticed that the man had about the same coloring as he had, was about the same height and possibly weight. The difference between them was that the man was probably eighteen or even twenty years older. John was twenty-seven. "Hello," the man said, smiling in a slightly unpleasant manner. "Please come all the way in." John felt as if he had been caught eavesdropping. His face slightly warm, he pushed the door all the way open, went a few feet into the room, looked back at the man. It is amazing, John thought, how much we look alike. The same brown hair, brown eyes, same build. If I were as old as he ... He did not finish the thought, for the man was speaking. "Please have a chair, Mr.-" "Deering," John said. "Thanks. I will." The man pointed at a straight-backed chair. "Sit there, if you like. I'll sit over here where I can see you better." For the first time, John noted that the man seemed to be quite effeminate. As the man sat down, he crossed his leg, allowing the leg to swing back and forth much in the manner of a woman. The man leaned forward slightly. "You know," he said, "we do look alike. Splendid!" John Deering wondered what was so splendid about it. "Yes," he said politely, wishing he had not come to the door in the first place. "I noticed you looked somewhat like ... myself." "The resemblance is remarkable," the man said, swinging his leg harder. "I hope you don't mind my saying that, Mr. Deering." John allowed a smile to cross his face. "Not at all," he murmured. "I'm Keith Ainsworth," the man said. "I must say Joan did not make a mistake. I'd say you were just the man for the ... job." John noticed the slight pause before the word "job". He murmured something or other, sat quite still on his chair as the older man seemed to study him from head to foot. "Remarkable," he said softly. "Positively remarkable. She picked the right man." "Are you her uncle, Mr. Ainsworth?" John asked, for something to say. "Y-Yes. I'm married to her aunt, that is. I suppose...." Here he paused again, went on finally. "I suppose Joan explained in part at least what your duties were to be." John shook his head. "No. She said her aunt would do that." Keith Ainsworth looked distressed, and John was certain that was the word for it. His hand flew to his mouth as he looked straight at John. "Oh dear," he said effeminately, "that does pose a problem, doesn't it?" "Does it?" John said, puzzled. "Afraid so. What a bore," the man said. "Quite embarrassing, too, Mr. Deering." "Why so?" John asked, his curiosity whetted further. Ainsworth uncrossed his legs quickly, stood up, sat back down, fluttered his hands about, re-crossed his legs, his upper leg swinging back and forth again. "Damn," he muttered. "Oh, damn." "I beg your pardon," John said, thinking he had not heard the man correctly. Ainsworth fluttered his hands about again, stopped it, looked over at John", pressed his lips together. "I just believe," he said deliberately, "that I shall let my wife do the talking to you." John said nothing. There was nothing to say. Ainsworth wiped his brow with a handkerchief. "Would you care for a drink, Mr. Deering?" John grinned slightly. "Yes. Thanks." Ainsworth got to his feet, crossed the room to the liquor cabinet, turned about. "What are you drinking, Mr. Deering?" "Bourbon," John said, "will be fine." Ainsworth brought him the drink. The glass was well filled. It was not an ordinary shot-glass, but a much larger one. He also brought John a glass of mis with plenty of ice in it. John raised the glass slightly-the man was not looking at him now-held it there, shrugged, drank from it. John put the glass on a nearby coffee table. He did not bother with the mix. Ainsworth went back to his chair, a drink in his hand, sat down, drew one leg up in under him as a woman might. The guy is very womanish, John thought-well ... he can't help that, I suppose. He waited for Ainsworth to speak, wishing Joan would come back from wherever she had gone. "I daresay, Mr. Deering, you are puzzled," Ainsworth said, not quite meeting John's eyes. John picked up the drink, sipped it, set it down. "Somewhat," he said. Ainsworth shook his head. "For a moment there I was tempted to tell you, but on second thought I'll stick to my original decision and let my wife talk to you." "About what?" John asked, more puzzled than ever. "Do you mean the job?" Ainsworth frowned, then smiled, then frowned again. "I suppose you could call it that, if you wereer-liberal in yourer-" He broke off. The door of the room came open and John got to his feet, seeing it, was Joan Herlick. "Did you think I'd forgotten you, John?" she asked, smiling. She looked at Ainsworth. "Apparently, you two have met. Right?" Both men nodded. Joan was not smiling now as she turned back to Ainsworth. "Did you tell him?" she asked her uncle. John saw Ainsworth turn his eyes away. "No. I said nothing at all about the ... matter." Joan looked at John. "Will you come with me, John?" He got to his feet, grinned. "Sure. Lead the way." "Just a minute," Ainsworth said nervously. "I'm not sure that I want to-" He broke off, turned his back on them. John looked at Joan. She bit her lips, brushed her hair out of her eyes. "Uncle Keith," she said firmly, "it is no affair of mine. It is your affair, yours and Aunt Julia's. I'm only doing, and against my better judgment, what you two asked me to do." Ainsworth turned back around, regarded her gravely. "I'm sorry, Joan. I should not have said that. Please take Mr. Deering ... to see your aunt." "Come along, John," Joan Herlick said. "All right," John said. He turned to the man. "Glad I met you. See you again." It struck John that this was somewhat of an asinine thing to say if he were going to be working about the place, which he was not at all sure he would be doing. There was something fishy going on here-he could sense it. Joan Herlick walked out of the room and John nodded at Ainsworth and followed her down the hallway. They went up an open staircase together. Neither of them spoke until she paused in front of a door. "Listen," she said. "Believe me, I'm sorry I brought you here. Why don't you just cut out? If you want to, I'll drive you back downtown to the same bar." "No use in going there," John said. "I'm flat." "I'll give you some money," she said. He shook his head. "Thank you, no. I already owe you for a drink." "Seeing my aunt is not what you may expect it to be," she said, and he noted she, too, seemed nervous now. "You told me she had a job for me. That's all I know about it." Joan Herlick bit her lips hard. "I wonder if you're going to like the offer," she murmured softly. "I beg your pardon," he said. 'T didn't quite hear you." She brushed her hair back, impatiently this time. "I hope you aren't the type to get mad," she said mysteriously. "Get mad at what?" he asked, becoming more puzzled with each passing moment. She sighed. "I'm keeping strictly out of this. My aunt will have to explain it to you. All I was supposed to do was to find you." "Find me? Why me?" Joan Herlick bit her lips still again. "Well ... not you exactly. Someone like you, I should say. Now that I've brought you here, seen something of what you are like, I'm not sure I-" "Why not just rap on the door," he said, grinning, "and let me see your aunt? Wouldn't that simplify whatever it is that is bothering you?" She looked at him for a long moment. He was considerably taller than she and he could not help glancing down the front of her low-cut dress. He could easily see more than half of her bosom. It was a delightful sight, although John Deering would not have used that word in describing them-he would have called them great. He inspected them carefully as she turned her head slightly so that she could not see him doing so. The breasts were marvelous. They were large and rounded in just the right way to be enticing-looking. He could see the n*****s through her dress; they seemed large, pointed. He felt a wave of excitement pass through him. He wondered what she would do if he gave way to his desire to slip his hand down the front of her and feel them. He had an idea that, given the proper circumstances, she would not object strongly. He suddenly had a strong impulse to try it. It was then that she turned and faced him directly. He wondered if she were really psychic, if she could read his thoughts at the moment. She said nothing, but rapped lightly on the door. No one came to open the door, but a voice called out, "Come in, please." Joan Herlick opened the door, motioned for John to follow her. He saw immediately that they were in a bedroom, but it was the largest bedroom he had ever seen. You could have put a half-dozen ordinary ones in it and had plenty of room left over. "Hi, Aunt Julia. I found a man." John thought the way she said it was extremely odd. He looked across the room, saw a blonde woman lying in bed, She was not an unattractive woman. "John, I'd like you to meet my aunt," she said. "How do you do," he said gravely, noting that Julia Ainsworth was looking him over carefully "I must say, Joan," the older woman said, "you found one that looks a lot like Keith. I certainly hope he's man enough to-" She broke off. John felt his face burn ever so little. He stared at the woman in bed, who, in turn, continued to stare at him. Joan turned to John. "I'll leave you two alone now. Come downstairs to the big room, where you were, Mr. Deering. I want to talk to you myself, after you've finished here." So, he thought-in front of her aunt she calls me "Mr. Deering," and the rest of the time I'm just plain John. He wondered about this momentarily, then forgot about it. Joan left the room, closing the door carefully after her. John stood there looking at Julia Ainsworth, wondering what kind of a job it was she had for him. He noted she was still looking him over. He decided he had better move. He walked slowly toward the bed, pausing near the foot of it. "Mrs. Ainsworth," he said, "Joan told me you had a job for a man." The woman rose on her pillows, and as she did so, her nightgown slipped off one shoulder, revealing a breast. She paid no attention to this and John had the mixed feelings of enjoying the sight and wishing she would cover herself. "What was your name again, please?" she asked. "I've forgotten it." "My name," he said, "is John Deering." "John Deering. Any relation to the Deerings in Lampshire?" "Not that I know of. I happen to have no family." Her eyes widened. "No family at all?" "Not that I know anything about." Her exposed breast bothered him. He could hardly take his eyes from it. She glanced down, saw the breast, ignored it. "Good," she said, half-smiling. "It's better if you don't have a family." John stared at her eyes now. "What is the job?" he inquired patiently. She sat up straighter and the other breast was exposed to his view. "It's not exactly a job. Joan didn't explain it to you?" It was a question he found difficult to answer because of her appearance. How could a man concentrate on answering the questions of a strange, attractive woman when she was half-naked and apparently unconcerned about it? John Deering fought to gain control over himself, succeeded, finally. "N-No," he said, stammering the word. "Your niece didn't talk about the job. She said you'd do that." "I see." "I also met your husband and he told me you would discuss it with me," he finished. She scratched herself beneath the left breast. John found it difficult not to smile. Somehow he found the strength not to. The truth was, he needed a job badly. He was really broke, "Mr. Deering," she said. "Do you have a present job?" "No." "Do you have any prospects of a job?" He shook his head, wondering if she was reading his mind. "Will youer-consent to stay here in the house for a few days, perhaps a week or so? You'll be paid, of course, for each day. Sav, fifty dollars a day." John was puzzled all over again. "You mean you want me just to hang around the house, do nothing, for fifty a day?" "Yes. Exactly." He frowned. What the hell was this? "I don't understand you." "No, I don't imagine you do. After a few days, perhaps sooner, we'll explain what we want you to do for ... us. In the meantime, you remain here, take it easy, get paid for it. Is that fair enough?" "Who," he said gravely, "do you want me to murder later?" She laughed, covered her breasts with her nightgown. "No one," she said. "Anything but that." He shifted about on his feet. "May I ask you a question?" She tapped her lower teeth with her fingernail, looked at him curiously. "I suppose so. What is it?" "Why can't you tell me now what the job consists of?" She smiled, erased the smile. "For one thing, I don't feel up to it. I'm supposed to be ill today. Doctor said so. Actually, I'm not. I'm just lazy today. The second reason-I want to ... study you for a few days, Mr. Deering." His mouth came open. "Study me?" "Yes. What I have in mind for you is a very ... shall I say, personal matter. I have to decide if you're the man to do it." "I see. Is that all you wish to say to me?" She tapped her teeth again. "Yes. You may go back downstairs now, Mr. Deering. One thing. Will you remain in the house?" John considered. Why not? he asked himself. "Yes," he said. "Good."