Woman in Black Read Free Page A

the thousand cuts that would be inflicted by watching him with other girls, once he’d tired of her. Already she was in over her head, and for once she couldn’t rely on Vaughn to protect her. He was the reason she was drowning.
    They kissed some more, alone in the dark with only the chittering of nightjars and the rustling sounds of some larger creature, a possum or a raccoon, making its way through the underbrush. There was something dreamlike about the whole thing, as if in shedding their clothes they’d stepped out of their bodies as well, becoming different people. When he rolled over so he was on top of her, the wet imprint left by his body on the rock seemed to belong to the other Vaughn, the Vaughn she’d known only as a brother; as if he were still stretched chastely alongside her and the moist, warm flesh pressing against hers, the mouth hot against her face and neck, belonged to someone else entirely. A beautiful stranger she desperately wanted to get to know, but a stranger nonetheless. Already they had passed a point of no return, though. Whatever happened next, there would be no going back to the easy familiarity they’d known.
    She stiffened briefly as he fumbled with the hooks on her bra, but she didn’t protest. It occurred to her briefly that she should tell him to stop. She’d only been kissed once before, by Bif Wannamaker after the homecoming dance, and then with an awkward tentativeness that had left her more embarrassed than anything. Now here she was doing things the girls at school talked about in whispers, things her mother and Sunday school teacher had warned against, and she didn’t feel the least bit inclined to hold back. Was there something wrong with her for wanting this as much as he? Some sort of internal brake system that asserted itself in other girls, at this point, that was missing in her? If so, it must be in her blood. Look at her mother, who’d been only a year older than Abigail when she’d gotten pregnant. I was born bad , she thought. So why fight it? Why not just let nature take its course? When her bra fell away and he gathered her breasts in his hands, bending to take one of her nipples in his mouth, she only arched her back, shivering with pleasure.
    He placed her hand over the thing poking up, rigid as a tent pole, over the elastic waistband of his briefs. “Yeah, that’s it … like that,” he whispered as she began to stroke it, tentatively at first, then with increasing boldness. Moments later, she felt it spasm, and something warm and wet spilled over her fingers.
    He drew away, muttering, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen.” He sounded almost angry.
    Was he angry at her? she wondered. Had she given in too easily? Had he expected her to be more demure?
    â€œIt’s okay.” Abigail knew about such things from Sex Ed, but experiencing it was something else altogether. She felt embarrassed, not sure how she was supposed to act. Were there rules of etiquette about this sort of thing? When he didn’t reply, she managed to stammer, after an awkward moment of silence, “I … I guess we should be going. It’s getting late.”
    Neither of them spoke as they got dressed. There were none of the affectionate touches or kidding remarks she was used to from Vaughn. Had he belatedly come to his senses and realized what he’d be getting into? God knew she was nothing like the girls he normally dated. Like their neighbor Ginny Clayson, the daughter of a state senator … and last year that pretty blond he’d met skiing with his dad in Aspen, who’d come for a visit, some sort of heiress whose father owned half the oil wells in Texas. Maybe Abigail was only good enough to be his friend but not his girlfriend. After all, she’d been willing to go all the way without so much as a halfhearted protest, which made her little better than a common slut.
    Driving back,