Enchanted Again (11 page)

The worst part of the conflicting emotions warring within her was the embarrassment she felt. She tried to pull herself together and reason it away. She had done nothing to encourage such behavior. She had tried to act naturally around him in fact—or as natural as was possible with him staring at her. But this rationalization did nothing to ease her mind.

At length she stopped in front of the white box and once again looked at the object inside. It suddenly occurred to her that it wasn’t guilt over encouraging this overture that caused her embarrassment, but rather her wish to actually touch it. It was horrible and debased, and she knew she should throw the unwanted gift into the trash or turn it in to the police, but she couldn’t bring herself to do either of these things. And what was even worse—much worse, in fact—was that she was alarmingly aroused. She could not remember ever being this aroused before. Even during all those years while she so fiercely loved and adored David and positively craved his attentions, she could not recall feeling such an all-consuming and nearly painful arousal. It seemed to transform sense, reason and principle into nothingness. It made the unthinkable inevitable.

Claire wrapped her fingers around the sculpture and lifted it out of the box. It was incredibly lifelike, and deceivingly rigid for its designed malleability. All around it there were bumps and ridges that emulated the real-life form it was modeled after, right down to the thick, engorged veins that trailed along the length of it. It was impossible to hold it without envisioning it inside her. She held it against her cheek for a moment, fighting the urge to slip it in her mouth. It was beyond unthinkable, and yet she found herself sliding it across her lips. Closing her eyes, she could visualize precisely Dan’s intense gaze watching her as she touched it with her tongue.

Suddenly she became aware of her surroundings and looked around self-consciously. The windows were curtained but she did not want to take any chances. She took the package into the bathroom and quickly removed her pants and underwear. She slipped her fingers between her legs and slid them across her slick opening, making herself even more aroused. She moaned with compunction over what she was about to do. Although she hardly needed the additional lubrication, she opened her mouth wide to receive and wet the phallic sculpture. She longed perversely for Dan’s eyes to be upon her now. She wondered if her behavior would provoke a change in the stoic expression of his glassy stare.

His craftiness could not be faulted. The sculpture was precisely the size and shape she would have wished for.

Claire worked the supple sculpture in and out of her mouth, savoring the excruciating arousal it brought her to do so. But all too soon this activity was far from enough to satiate her, and she slid it out of her mouth with sharp anticipation to feel it between her legs. She moved down onto the cold bathroom floor and raised her legs up high over her head—so high that she was able to rest her feet on the wall behind her. All of her movements and actions were contrived for the benefit of her fantasy that Dan’s watchful eyes were there in the bathroom with her. She maneuvered herself in ways she had never done before, caught up entirely in the dream that Dan was there with her as she took pleasure from his creation, and that his intense gaze was upon her.

Opening her labia with the fingers of one hand, she gently worked the sculpture into her wet hole, moving it up and down when her body resisted, until she reached a point where she could take no more of it. She grasped the nut and bolt at the very base of the sculpture for leverage. She suddenly realized the purpose for the nut and bolt, and felt an intense craving such as she had never felt before in her life. She knew they were put there intentionally to remind her that there existed more than just the phallus-like sculpture. She was keenly aware that somewhere out there was an attachment that would connect the sculpture to something even more depraved and unnatural. In the height of her passion she could only feel a craving for whatever that attachment was.

She began to work the sculpture in and out of her body with one hand while rubbing her clitoris with the other. She closed her eyes tight as she struggled to envision Dan’s eyes watching her use the object he created for her. She longed to cause a reaction in him, but wondered what the reaction would be. Would his expression become leering and derisive if he were to see her right now?

Claire gave herself over absolutely to the lust that had been taking control of her since she first laid eyes on the anonymous gift. She stroked herself furiously, thrusting the sculpture violently in and out of her body as she did so. When at last her release came, it brought a flood of pleasurable sensations so strong her entire body jerked and shuddered. The pleasure still lingered a few moments longer, but was followed by a rush of disgust that was almost as powerful as the arousal had been. She got up abruptly and dropped the sculpture into the sink. She dressed in a hurry, mopping up the telltale wetness furiously. Then she washed the sculpture with soap and water and dried it. She felt awkward now to even hold it in her hand.

She wanted suddenly to rid herself of the sculpture but could not bring herself to throw it away. At last she resolved to return it to the white box and bury it under a pile of clothing in her closet.

Distressed and fatigued, Claire went to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. There was a deadline looming on one of her projects but she dreaded remaining in the house alone for the remainder of the afternoon. She preferred to go to Maggie’s diner and sit amid the warmth and noise. Self-discipline overruled this idea though, and Claire set to work by sheer force of will. Once she began, she found she was surprisingly productive, and it was dark before she stopped to break—and then only for a quick bite from the kitchen before she returned to work again. Her wish to escape, along with her embarrassment over her earlier behavior, were practically forgotten.

But later, as Claire was clearing away her work from the day, she was once again overcome with a desire to see a friendly face. She looked at the clock and tried to remember how late the diner stayed open. She was generally not one to go out at night, but after such a long day she felt she could do with a drink and some companionship.

The diner was abandoned and dark, but as Claire was turning her car around in the parking lot, preparing to leave, she spotted the back of Dan’s truck sticking out from behind one corner of the restaurant. Slowly inching her car to that side of the building, she caught sight of Dan himself, walking noiselessly away from the house that stood behind the diner—the house where Maggie lived. He was carrying his toolbox. Claire paused only a moment before driving out of the parking lot and into the street to go home. Dan had seen her of course, and he stood there thoughtfully, watching her drive away.

“Damn!” Claire said out loud, once she was out of his view. Why was he always everywhere she went? What was he doing at Maggie’s house? She thought of the toolbox but recalled suddenly that Maggie’s house had been fully dark. Her mind began to wander and she found herself conjuring up strange scenarios. She laughed at herself, but the thoughts repeatedly returned and she found it hard to sleep that night.

The next morning Claire was up early and rushed out to have breakfast at Maggie’s diner. Maggie behaved the same as she always did, expressing jovial interest in her customers, particularly Claire.

“So, how’s it going today?” she asked Claire when she got a minute free from the morning rush.

“Great,” replied Claire. “I couldn’t remember how late you stayed open, so I missed you last night for dinner.” She watched Maggie’s face carefully as she said this, but she could detect no apprehension over Claire’s having been there after closing.

“I’m sorry I missed you,” Maggie told her sincerely. “I normally stay open later if I know someone is coming by, but generally, if it’s slow, I’ll close around ten.”

“I could have sworn I saw Dan drive away as I was pulling into the parking lot,” Claire continued. “You weren’t having any problems with your water heater, I hope.” She couldn’t tell for sure, but it seemed that Maggie might have tensed just a little. But Maggie’s expression remained unperturbed.

“No,” she replied thoughtfully, “no problems there.” She paused a moment before adding, “Dan didn’t even stop by the restaurant for dinner last night. As a matter of fact, I didn’t see him at all.”

“Oh,” said Claire. “Perhaps he wasn’t leaving here then, but just driving down the street.”

“Yes, I bet that was it,” said Maggie.

Claire was incredulous. There was no doubt she had seen Dan, with his toolbox in hand, walking from Maggie’s dark house toward his truck the previous night. Was it possible that Maggie didn’t realize that Dan was there? Claire doubted this and yet, what other explanation could there be? If Dan had been there, fixing something, it certainly would not be something Maggie would feel the need to lie about. Unless…but Claire stopped her thoughts abruptly in their tracks. She watched as Maggie efficiently managed her restaurant, telling herself that it was impossible that this straightforward, practical, sweet woman was so debauched as to participate in the sordid events that were currently popping up in her mind. But then, she reminded herself with morbid incongruity, who would expect—or even believe, for that matter—that Claire would have behaved as she had done the previous afternoon?

Claire left Maggie’s restaurant and drove to Brenda’s to see how the typing was progressing. She secretly hoped Brenda would be more talkative this time than she had been before.

“How long has Maggie been widowed?” she asked Brenda casually.

“Oh, heavens, it’s been seven or eight years now since Scott died,” Brenda told her.

“Strange, that such a vibrant woman hasn’t remarried,” remarked Claire.

“Maggie has never so much as gone out on a date since her husband’s death,” said Brenda. “She really loved him.”

“Well,” observed Claire, “she’s still young.”

“It’s not that easy, even if she were inclined to date,” said Brenda. “In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a shortage of men around here. Especially men our age. Those of us who married young got the pick of the litter.”

Claire laughed. “Well, we’re not living out on an island here in Anamoose. There are adjoining towns that have men living in them.”

“That’s true,” admitted Brenda. “Still, I don’t see Maggie dating anyone.”

Claire paused nervously, trying to find the right words. “That handyman guy…Dan, is it? He seems to spend a lot of time over there,” she began, trying hard to make it sound like a casual observation, but managing instead to sound very schoolgirlish about the whole thing.

Brenda looked at her a moment. “Dan and Maggie are just friends,” she said.

“Is Dan seeing anyone?”

“No. Why?” Suddenly Brenda’s eyes opened wide. “Are
you
interested?”

“No!” Claire said this a bit too adamantly, so she tried to rectify this by adding, “I don’t even know him.”

Brenda looked at her sideways. “The truth is, I don’t know if Dan has ever dated anyone.”

“Why is that?” Claire asked. “I mean, he’s not the most attractive man…his face is…I mean, well, but I have seen less attractive people get married.”

“With Dan it is not his appearance that keeps him from dating,” Brenda said. “There is actually something attractive about him. Something that kind of grows on a person. I think it’s Dan’s choice not to have a girlfriend.”

“Is he gay?”

“No,” laughed Brenda. “He is most certainly not gay.” But suddenly her expression changed, and she abruptly switched subjects. “I have to pick up little Bobby from his play group,” she said.

Claire was disappointed. She was certain there was some mystery pertaining to Dan, but the women of Anamoose were not forthcoming.

At home, Claire was acutely aware of the gift she had hidden away in her closet. Since succumbing to its startling persuasion she had refrained from going near it or its hiding place. As she labored to concentrate on her work that afternoon her thoughts persistently meandered in the direction of the closet and the extraordinary sculpture that was hidden there. These thoughts she persistently and resolutely squelched, dragging her mind laboriously back to the task at hand; but the repeated efforts exhausted her and left her fully discouraged. She stared out the window at the pale sky that was as blue, it seemed to her, as the glassy stare of Desperate Dan.

Finally accepting that she would get nothing accomplished by staying home that day, Claire stuffed the unfinished manuscript into a leather bag and took it with her to Maggie’s diner. She spotted Dan immediately—having lunch alone in his usual booth in the far corner of the restaurant. Claire could see that he was watching her. She smiled inwardly. She positioned herself strategically, several booths away from him and sitting sideways, so that her face was partially visible from his vantage point. Then she pulled out the manuscript and began to work, without difficulty at all this time, pacified at last by the steady, inexhaustible gaze radiating over her from across the room. Maggie brought coffee and Claire continued to work, fully engrossed. She worked until late in the day, when suddenly she looked up and became aware that Dan was no longer in the restaurant. But she was satisfied that she had never been more productive.

Returning home, Claire was both alarmed and excited to see a much larger package waiting for her on her stoop. It was wrapped in the same brown paper as the other package had been, and tied with the brown twine. She looked all around her for a sign of someone watching her, but there was no evidence of another soul about the place. As before, there were no marks to identify who had sent the package or who it was addressed to. Nevertheless, Claire new.

Once inside, Claire tore wildly at the knots in the twine and ripped away the brown paper used for wrapping. Opening the box at last, she stared at its contents uncomprehendingly. It appeared to be some kind of mechanical apparatus with folding tubes and connections and wires that frustrated her expectations. Tentatively she reached inside and clumsily removed the bulky contraption.