FIVE

Ted left her at the gate.

“Why are you angry, Peg?”

She shook her head. “I’m not.” Her voice was barely audible.

Peggy’s change in mood had thoroughly flustered Ted. “If I did anything wrong, I’m sorry, but—” He pulled her to him. “God, Peggy, it’s just that—”

She broke away. “I said I wasn’t angry. But I have things to do. After all, I’m just hired help around here.” She stepped to the road. “See you, Ted. Thanks for the ride.”

He slid out of the car, reached for her arm, spun her around to face him.

“What the hell do you mean, thanks for the ride?”

“What the hell do you think I mean?” She pulled away from him and ran through the gate into the security of the camp.

“Peggy!”

She started up the dirt driveway. Her shoulders drooped, her head hung; her eyes, though, were dry. Halfway up the hill, she heard Ted start the car and speed away.

Mike’s face registered acute shock, some minutes later, when Peggy walked into the tennis shack dressed for action. The girls had already divided up for doubles and were taking their places on the courts.

Mike sidled over to Peggy, who was choosing a racket.

“What are you doing back so soon? Beth told you we’d take care of everything.”

“I know,” Peggy answered tonelessly. “Ted had studying to do.”

“My God! That’s no excuse. What’s so important that he has to study up on?”

“His manners,” responded Peggy, grim-lipped.

Mike gaped.

“They need a player on Court Three,” she said, turning away.

Walking listlessly to the court Mike had indicated, Peggy noticed the little blonde, Ruth Harris, giving stroke instruction to some intermediates on Court One. Ruth waved cheerfully. Peggy tried to concentrate on knocking the ball around with three camp seniors, all in their teens. They were fresh and fetching, all bare legs, gawky arms and flying tresses as they skedaddled over the clay in frantic pursuit of the ball. One girl in particular was as cute as a kitten in a brief white outfit fit for a tournament at Wimbledon but wholly out of place in a camp. The other girls laughed and teased her as she proudly romped around, her round rump bobbing saucily under the thigh-high white skirt.

Peggy was in no mood to appreciate the charms of her young charges. She gave them some pointers on service, then they began a doubles set. The ball flew back and forth. At first Peggy and her partner were ahead, then their opponents took the lead. It did not matter to Peggy. The ball came, Peggy hit. The ball came, Peggy missed.

Then, as she watched, what had been just a small felt ball on the other side of the net figuratively grew and grew, sprouting hair and eyes until it looked like Ted’s face coming down at her, closer and closer.

Peggy gripped the racket. Her arm went back, swung forward, as she smashed at the ball with all her might—and missed. The pain that shot through her shoulder made her gasp.

The game stopped momentarily, the girls inquiring if she were all right. Flexing the shoulder, she assured them that she was.

She glanced at her watch. “Let’s go, Bernice,” she called to her partner. “We don’t have much time to win this set.”

She tried to ignore the stiffening muscle as she worked at evening the score. By the time Mike blew the whistle signaling the end of the session, the set stood at five-all.

After the girls had left the courts, Peggy and Mike locked up the equipment. They started toward the cabin area together. As they walked, Peggy moved her shoulder gingerly, at the same time massaging it with the fingers of her opposite hand.

“My God!” Mike said. “Are you accident-prone or something? First it was your stomach. Now it’s your shoulder.”

“I pulled a muscle, I guess.”

“A Charlie-horse. Everybody gets ’em early in the season, before they get in shape.”

Peggy shook her head. “I thought Charlie only got you in the legs.”

“Okay, so it’s a sprain. In the water, it’s a cramp. Same thing. Come up to the cabin,” Mike invited. “I’m great at rubbing out the kinks. I want to talk to you anyway,” she added.

Apprehension clamped Peggy. During the ride back to camp with Ted, she had not been able to help comparing his style of love-making with that of her unidentified nocturnal visitor. Even in her doped state, Peggy had enjoyed the mysterious lover much more, infinitely more. Did it mean, she had wondered, that there was something wrong with her? She had pictured Mike then, forgetting Ted and the car and the rolling countryside and golden fields. Instead she had envisioned Mike’s soft, white hands, the penetrating gray eyes, the broad shoulders and smiling lips. She had heard Mike’s husky voice. At that moment, Peggy had been pretty much convinced that she had been seduced by Mike and no other. What would it be like to exchange kisses and caresses with the red-haired girl when she, Peggy, was not sleeping but wide awake?

Peggy had shuddered at that last thought. And yet there remained the fact that acute pleasure had been hers the previous night.

By the time Ted had left her at the gate, Peggy had made up her mind. If she had lesbian leanings, horrible as they were, better that she should know it. She would find out for herself if perhaps she were abnormal, if she craved another woman’s love rather than a man’s.

But now that she was going to be alone with Mike, she was full of fears. Could she go through with it?

And then a peculiar metamorphosis took place as the two youthful counselors trudged up the hill. By some alchemy possibly born of the unsatisfied, unfulfilled state in which Ted had left her, Peggy’s apprehensive feelings changed to those of excitement, of a kind of delicate, tentative lust.

She laughed at herself. Ever since the night she had overheard the conversation in the bathhouse, she had been avoiding Mike. She had feared to get too close to the girl this morning. Yet now suddenly Peggy was full of eagerness. She wanted to get it over with. She wanted to know.

The two girls ambled on, Peggy deep in her own thoughts. Suddenly she lifted her head. They had reached the staff cabin.

Inside, Peggy stretched out on someone’s bed while Mike hurriedly changed into a shapeless black tanksuit. She flung her discarded clothes in a heap on her bed.

“Got to get to the waterfront in a few minutes,” she said, pulling and poking the suit into position on her solid curves. “You know, you never did explain that grudge you have against men—the one that made you sign up here rather than at a co-ed camp. Has it got something to do with what’s-his-face?”

“Yes. It has everything to do with Ted.” Peggy rolled over on her stomach, rested her head on crossed arms. “I thought I was in love,” she said, unexpectedly more than willing to confide in Mike. “I was convinced he felt the same. I had visions of orange blossoms and wedding bells and living happily ever after. We did everything together—studied, went to dances and football games, took in movies and lectures. He even drove me home to meet his folks, one weekend. They liked me, I think.”

Mike sat down on the edge of the cot, a bottle of suntan lotion in her hand. She applied the creamy liquid to her dangerously pink arms and legs. Peggy noted how fair Mike was, how freckled. A pleasant, disarming effect, thought Peggy. Then her thoughts flashed back to Ted.

“Yep,” she sighed. “Ted and I. Life was a bed of roses—until I gave him what he wanted. After that, life was a bed. Cars, motels, inside or outside—it didn’t matter. Any old place would do. And I got tired of it.” She paused. “That’s all, Mike. I got tired of it. The end.”

Mike’s hands, smooth with lotion, began to massage Peggy’s shoulders. “And today—”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Peggy said.

“Did you think he would be any different? Is that it?”

“I had hoped he would.”

For a while Mike stroked and rubbed without speaking. Then, “You mean because of one oversexed male you’re calling it quits?” Her hands moved lower on Peggy’s back.

Ignoring Mike’s question, Peggy murmured, “That feels good. Oh, good—”

Mike stroked, pinched, her strong fingers industrious and clever. “You never can tell,” she said. “He sounded like such a hell of a nice guy over the phone. Really interested in you, too. Maybe—”

“Please—I don’t want to talk about him, Mike.”

“Sure, Peg. How’s the shoulder feel now?”

Peggy shrugged a couple times, moved her arm. “Better. Really better. A little stiff, but I’ll live.”

“Hey!” Mike rose, crossed the room. She took a bottle of liniment from a shelf. “Loosen your shirt,” she said to Peggy. “I forgot about this stuff. It should fix you up in no time.”

Peggy pulled off the shirt. She undid her bra.

Sitting down on the bed once more, Mike let the liniment trickle to Peggy’s skin. The concoction hit cold on Peggy’s flesh, but as Mike began to rub it in, Peggy felt heat work through to the aching muscle.

After a while, Mike spoke—quietly, voice huskier than ever: “Peg, about yesterday—”

“Yesterday?”

“In the Pillbox,” Mike said.

Memories flooded Peggy. “Yes?”

“I just want to apologize—”

“You don’t have to apologize—unless you’re sorry for what happened,” Peggy told her, afraid of what might be said, afraid once more of her own feelings and yearnings.

Mike massaged gently, tenderly. “I want you to understand how I feel. Why I acted the way I did.”

Peggy thought of her romance with Ted, the days and the nights, the beginning and end. She wondered briefly if there had ever been a man in Mike’s life. She contrasted the previous night’s silky love-making with Ted’s tough, hurtful sex. And she said, “I understand, Mike.”—Although not sure if she did, only hoping.

After a long silence, Mike spoke again: “There are a few things you should know.”

“I don’t want the details of anybody’s life history.” The words sounded more abrupt than Peggy had intended, interrupting the smooth rhythm of Mike’s fingers.

“I wasn’t going to give you a life history,” Mike answered tartly, her fingers stopping altogether now, but still resting on Peggy’s back. “I just think you should understand the situation.” She reached for the liniment.

“I understand all I want to.”

Once more cold drops on bare skin. Peggy winced.

“Peggy—”

“Please, Mike.”

“All right, Peggy. But—” She sighed. “Forget it. Roll over, will you? I want to work on the front for a while.”

Peggy squirmed. She rose to one elbow, flipped herself to her back. The straps of her bra hung loose. She flung it off. Her lithe, luxuriant breasts poked their saucy tips at Mike.

“Nice,” Mike commented huskily. “Do you always wear a bra? Most of the girls don’t, here in camp.”

“I don’t like the feeling of them bouncing around. They’re so big.”

“The bigger the better, I always say.” Mike’s hands spread liniment on the smooth skin over Peggy’s bosom. The palms rubbed and kneaded. Peggy waited breathlessly for the hands to go lower. Deliberately she shifted a little, bringing a breast into contact with Mike’s fingers, trying to tempt her, encourage her.

It wasn’t so bad to be close to a woman, Peggy thought. To have her hands on you, moving, touching, roaming. In fact—

The screen door banged.

Mike jumped to her feet.

Lilian stood just inside the door, one eyebrow arched. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

Peggy swung to a sitting position on the edge of the cot, grabbed for her brassiere and shirt.

Lilian was staring at Mike, whose pale flesh seemed to be bursting out of the scanty tanksuit. “Excuse me, Madam Waterfront Director, isn’t it time you were directing?”

Mike glared at the girl with the black hair. “I was just leaving,” she said, and turned toward Peggy. “You coming?”

Before Peggy could open her mouth, Lilian said, “She can find her own way to the lake.” As Mike crossed the zoom, Lilian added, “I won’t keep her long.”

Mike cast Lilian a killing look as she lumbered out the door, slamming it behind her.

“She needn’t have left in such a huff,” Lilian commented. For a moment she stood poised like a bright bird in her costume of blue blouse and tight orange shorts. Then she walked over to Peggy, placed a palm on her forehead. “How are you feeling?” she asked, with a mildness Peggy had not expected.

“Mentally or physically?” Peggy asked.

“Sassy, huh?” Lilian patted her cheek, and walked away. “I take it the stomach trouble is over, then.”

“Yeah, the stomach is fine. But my shoulder—ouch! Smell the liniment? Mike was giving me a rubdown.”

“I bet,” Lilian said. She slipped out of her blouse. “Aren’t you going down to the waterfront?” she asked. “You’re supposed to be on duty, you know.”

Peggy nodded. “I suppose I should go change.”

Lilian pulled something colorful from a drawer, flung it at Peggy. “Try this on,” she said.

“I can’t wear that,” Peggy protested. “It’s a bikini.”

“I think you can,” Lilian said, stepping out of the shorts. She hung her outfit in the closet, then walked across the room in filmy panties, her bosom bare. Peggy was still sitting on the bed.

“You’re not dressing,” Lilian said, leaning over to retrieve the bikini. “Want some help?” She reached for Peggy’s shirt.

Peggy pulled away. “I can do it,” she said, slipping out of the thing.

Lilian’s eyes were fixed on Peggy’s full breasts, squeezed into a snowy white bra quite inadequate to hide the creamy mounds. Abruptly she turned away. “Put it on,” she said, moving to her own cot on which a one-piece black suit was lying.

By the time Lilian had pulled on her suit, Peggy had stuffed her hips into the triangular patch and was struggling with the ribbon around her breasts.

Lilian walked over to her. She took the ties of the bikini in one hand, lowered Peggy’s hand with the other, then trailed her fingers up Peggy’s arm to rest momentarily on her shoulder. She ran a palm across Peggy’s bare skin.

“You have a beautiful back—soft and cool, like satin.”

She took more time than Peggy thought was necessary to tie the band. Then she ran her finger under it, adjusting it.

“Turn around,” Lilian said, and stepped back. The dark eyes traveled from Peggy’s generous breasts to her exposed belly, across the polka-dotted triangle, down the firm thighs—and back to the breasts.

Lilian smiled. “I guess you are a little bigger than I,” she said, moving toward Peggy. She reached out to straighten the ribbon and thus cover a nipple that insisted on peeking over the edge of the band.

The touch of Lilian’s agile hand against her breast made Peggy’s skin tingle. She made an attempt to push the hand away, but in the process both girls moved so that the hand dropped straight down, one long nail leaving a mark on Peggy’s skin, then catching in the top of the bikini panty.

Peggy’s eyes flashed to Lilian’s face. Neither girl moved. They stood fractions of an inch away from each other—Peggy’s heaving breasts all but touching Lilian’s semi-exposed bosom. Lilian’s left hand, warm now, rested on Peggy’s forearm, while the finger of the other still clung to the suit. Dark eyes held hazel. Hazel eyes did not waver.

It was Lilian who moved first. She withdrew her hand, removed her finger, looked away.

“I’m sorry, Peggy,” she said, eyeing the red scratch on Peggy’s stomach. She ran a fingertip along the mark. “Does it hurt?”

Peggy laughed uncomfortably. “Forget it. I’m accident-prone. I should have told you.”

“You’re elegant in that suit, Peggy! Look in the mirror.”

Lilian started out of the cabin.

“I’ll be right back—I’m going to the washroom—”

Peggy padded over to the full-length mirror on the closet door. She was startled by the girl gazing back at her. The bikini certainly did things for her nineteen-year-old body.

Peggy Matthews studied herself from head to toe. She took in the blond hair that fell to her shoulders, thick and silky, dipping in a wave on her forehead—the unusual clear-hazel eyes smoldering under starry lashes—the pert nose with its touch of little-girl innocence—the full cherry lips, moist, slightly parted, yielding a glimpse of even white teeth. She inspected the ivory column that was her neck, her tapered shoulders still glistening with liniment, her breasts—full and firm, proud in their youthfulness.

Peggy wanted to tear away the knotted band hiding the bold pink nipples. She wanted to see them staring back at her, taut and ready for love. But she resisted the impulse and lowered her eyes to the bareness below the ribbon—to the skin so white because it was always hidden from the sun, skin petal-soft and baby-smooth—to the dark hollow that was her navel, small and unobtrusive, yet in its own way attractive, she thought—to the flat stomach unblemished except for the red mark left by Lilian’s nail.

Her eyes rested then on the bikini triangle, bright and alluring, hiding practically nothing. She measured her hips, full and round, her firm thighs, golden with the sunlight they had captured. The legs, stemming long and shapely from the bikini’s edge to the painted toenails, she knew were good legs. Made for bathing suits and short skirts—and for loving, by the looks of them.

Loving....

Could so warm and womanly an exterior hide a rotten core?

Peggy shifted her glance and realized that she had not been the only one studying her near-naked body.

Lilian had returned and was standing in the doorway. She averted her eyes and walked in.

“Listen,” Peggy said. “This thing is too small. And too daring. I think I’d better get it off.” She struggled with the back ties once more.

“Let me help,” Lilian said. “I think there’s a knot.”

Peggy turned and fumbled with the lower ties, while Lilian worked on the ribbon. By the time Lilian had loosened the knot, Peggy was holding the triangular patch in her hand.

Lilian’s arm went around Peggy to catch the band as it slid from the quivering breasts.

Peggy whirled as the door creaked open. She was standing a breath away from Lilian—but facing so that Mike was gazing directly at her naked bosom.

There was not a whisper of sound in the room. Even the noises outside seemed to stop as the three girls confronted each other: Peggy covered only by a crumpled patch she held in front of her—Lilian, mouth open, startled out of her usual poise—and Mike, silent, sturdy body motionless in the flimsy black tanksuit.

Then, as though a lever had been pulled releasing them, all three moved at once. Peggy grabbed her shirt from the bed. Lilian stooped to pick up the fallen bikini. Mike mumbled, “Forgot my towel.” She grabbed the fluffy white terrycloth from a rack and slammed out of the cabin.