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Copyright © 2016 Dog Murphy
Darque Taboo Press
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All Rights Reserved: No part of this publication may be reproduced or retransmitted, electronic or mechanical, without the written permission of the publisher; with the exception of brief quotes used in connection with reviews written for inclusion in a magazine or newspaper.
Disclaimer: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic, adult language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable which might include: multiple sexual practices, heavy and strong BDSM themes and elements, erotic elements and fetish play. This e-book is for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please do not try any new sexual practice, especially those that might be found in our BDSM/Fetish titles without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither the publisher nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury, or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles. All characters depicted at least eighteen years of age or older.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, businesses, and incidents are from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual places, people, or events is purely coincidental. Any trademarks mentioned herein are not authorized by the trademark owners and do not in any way mean the work is sponsored or associated with the trademark owners. Any trademarks used are specifically in a descriptive capacity.
Sara Hibbons got off the bus ignoring the stares of several men who would certainly have undressed her had their eyes had fingers. Two youths whistled at her as she left the bus and walked down Hetton Street.
Sara was whistling bait, she was five foot five with hair redder than an Arizona sunset and curves that would have wrecked Casey Jones engine. Hazel eyes under long lashes were usually merry with suspicion of a twinkle. The twinkle had been inherited from her easy going, shiftless father.
Her strongest characteristic was a stubborn, bull headed determination that never said quit. This trait had caused her English teacher in high school to say to her, "Sara, you have more determination than any girl I ever knew. I pity the man you set your cap for because he will never be able to escape you."
She weighed one hundred and five pounds.
She turned in at the frame house the Cullowheys lived in, glancing at her wrist watch as she did so. She was five minutes ahead of time and that pleased her. She had lost her waitress job because she had refused to go out with the married proprietor. She had answered a want ad, accepted a baby sitting job with the Cullowheys. Sara was in Cincinnati completing a business course.
She'd had the baby sitting job two months now and not once had she been late. She met Sylvia Cullowhey and her husband, John leaving the house. They told her they were leaving early and would be late getting back home. Sara told them that would be perfectly all right, to stay as long as they liked. She went into the house, looked to see if the child was okay, sat down with a magazine she had brought.
About an hour later she heard a key grating in the front door lock. She leaped from her chair in alarm, only to see John Cullowhey come into the house.
"Hope I didn't disturb you, Sara. I forgot something."
He went into the bedroom and Sara resumed her seat. A couple of minutes later he called, "Sara, will you please come and help me find my cane."
Sara laid down her magazine, went to oblige.
No sooner was she in the bedroom than he shut the door behind her. As Sara tensed in startled surprise he grabbed her. He had her in his arms and was kissing her before she realized what he was doing. She tried to push loose.
"Don't, don't... let me go," she cried, beginning to struggle.
But he forced her down on the bed on her back. He was pulling her dress up above her knees before she really became scared. She struggled fiercely, kicked with all her might, biting his arm and striving desperately to make him loosen his grasp.
"Let me go!" she cried frantically. "Turn me loose!"
With a mighty effort she succeeded in rolling out from under him onto the floor. But he grabbed the neckline of her dress, ripped it asunder down her back. As she struggled to her feet he ripped her slip off too.
"Stand still, you little fool," he hissed angrily. "I'll pay you well."
She made a try for the door but his clutching hand seized her bra, tore it completely off, exposing her swelling, pear shaped breasts. Naked to her waist, only a pair of Bardot Briefs with luscious lace side overlays saving her nudeness, she was sobbing in fright and anger. She was able to fling the door open and flee into the living room, pursued by her lustful assailant.
"Stop, you damned, crazy little idiot!" he snarled. "What's the matter with you anyway? I'm going to give you money."
He grabbed her again, was about to lift her and carry her back into the bedroom, when the front door again opened. Mrs. Cullowhey stepped through the door, stopped abruptly, stared at the spectacle.
"John, what is the meaning of this?" she demanded.
Startled at her sudden and unexpected appearance he was momentarily at a loss for words. But only for a few moments. He was a resourceful man who often turned apparent defeat into victory. He was equal to the occasion.
"This cheap, black mailing little tramp tried to extort five hundred dollars from me, that's what," he said angrily. "I forgot my cane and came after it just as I told you. But I couldn't find it. This dirty little slut came into the bedroom and began to remove her clothes. She paid no attention when I told her to stop. When I grabbed her to make her stop she began to scream and struggle. She shouted that unless I gave her five hundred dollars she'd run outside nearly naked and yell that I'd tried to rape her. I thought she was just bluffing.
"I shoved her onto the bed and left the room, thinking that was the end of it. But she ran into here, having torn her dress and slip off, jerked her bra off and she was naked to her waist. She was about to remove her panties too when I regained my wits. I grabbed her to keep her from stripping stark naked. I was going to hold her and call the cops. Just then you came in. I'm going to call the police right now."
He walked toward the phone in the hall.
"No, don't do that. Wait, John," his wife said sternly. "I don't want to send her to jail. She's been too good and kind to our little son. He loves her. I'm so glad he's asleep. We'll let her go without any pay. We'll spread the shameful story all over the city so that she can never again get employment in Cincinnati." She glared at Sara who had listened to the fabricated story with amazement and dismay. "Put your clothing back on, Miss Hibbons and get out."
Distraught with shame and anger, bitter tears dropping from her eyes, Sara tried to blurt out the real story.
"Shut up! I want no more of your lying!" snapped the wife.
Convicted without even a hearing, Sara sobbed lowly as she went into the bedroom and... using pins... managed to piece her clothing together. She left the house, dried her tears and took a bus to her own rooming house. She wondered what had suddenly come over Mr. Cullowhey. In the two months she'd worked for them he had treated her kindly, politely, just as if she were his daughter.
Next morning when she went to the business school she knew the story had gotten around. That afternoon the school heads called her into the office and politely invited her to sever her connections with the school. When Sara refused to do so unless they refunded the rightful portion of her money paid them... they wrote her out a check immediately.
The following morning she started a search for another job.
She speedily discovered the story had been emblazoned to the four corners of the city. Some employers hadn't heard it. But when they checked her references they were no longer interested in her. At the end of her first day of trudging on the streets answering ads, giving her name and phone number, explaining she had to get a job because she had run out of money... she wasn't discouraged. Her stubborn determination made her decide she would show them. She was innocent and she didn't mean to let a black lie keep her from finding employment.
The following afternoon she landed a job as waitress in the Phane Grill. She hummed to herself that night as she washed out things, did some ironing and selected clothing to wear to her job.
She rose early next morning, enjoyed a good breakfast, kept glancing at her watch. The grill was only five blocks from her boarding house so she decided to walk. She arrived at the grill ten minutes ahead of time but won no approving smile from the proprietor. He followed her to the kitchen.
"I'm very sorry, Miss Hibbons," he said kindly, "But I'm afraid we cannot employ you after all."
Sara stared at him with sinking heart. So he had finally heard the story, too. It was all she could do to keep from crying. She had wanted the job so badly. With a determined effort she smiled and said, "I'm sorry too, sir. Are you sure you cannot hire me?"
"Yes, Miss Hibbons. I hope you can find another job."
She spent that day too in walking the streets, answering ads, giving her name and phone number. She was still determined to find work.
But at the end of the third fruitless day she began to have doubts. It certainly looked as if she was finished in Cincy. Well, if they didn't want to hire her there she would go elsewhere and find a job. She recalled that back in high school in her home town of Daleville, Tennessee, Ben Nichols the publisher had liked her work so well... she wrote the school news for The Dale County Courier... he had promised to give her a job on the Courier when she finished school.
Sara had never had the yen for newspaper work but now she decided a job was a job. All her family had passed on except one sister who lived-in the old family frame home on the river bank.
She wrote Nichols a letter, informed him she was taking him up on that offer of a job on the Courier. She would follow the letter in a few days to start to work, she told him. She mailed the letter next morning. She would try a couple more days to land a job in Cincy. Her stubborn bull headedness would let her do nothing else. If she was still without a job in two days she would go back to good old Daleville where the hills winked back at you on misty days.
The fourth day proved to be as fruitless as the preceding ones. She tried harder than ever. But luck was against her. Two places were about to hire her. But when they phoned her references it was the same old story. It being Saturday she decided to rest Sunday and then take a bus for Daleville. She had decided she was wasting time and money trying to catch on in Cincy where the cards were stacked against her.
She boarded a bus Monday morning.
Sara leaned her head back against the cushioned bus seat and tried to ride smoothly against the choppiness of the worn-out paved road. She'd been riding several hours now and was tired of the jounce-jounce-jounce melody the wheels were making.
She decided she'd try to relieve the monotony. "Do you mind if I smoke?" she asked the ten year old boy seated beside her.
"Naw. My Pop smokes but my Mom don't. Where're you going?"
"To Tennessee," Sara said, smiling. "Do you live in Tennessee?"
"Naw. I live in Kentucky. Been to Covington visiting Aunt Phyllis."
Sara was silent and the boy asked curiously, "Are you one of them Hollywood actors?"
"You mean actress," Sara said, laughing. "No, I'm not an actress."
"Where at do you live in Tennessee?"
The bus stopped in a small town, a man left the bus and the boy went back to the vacated seat to sit beside his mother.
Sara flipped through the pages of a magazine but she couldn't get her mind on it. Her thoughts were bitter. She was returning to her home town in East Tennessee after a two years absence. In her purse was exactly eighteen dollars and sixty-five cents. She liked Cincinnati, wished she could have remained there. But that shameful story had been accepted as the truth by all who'd heard it. She sighed dismally, tossed her hair back from her eyes took a long draw from her cigarette.
Anyway she had a home and sister to return to. She could have arrived back home had she not splurged recklessly and bought a new outfit. She had made up her mind to step off the bus in Daleville and knock their eyes out.
It was the second day in June. Green and fragrant spring was giving way to early summer. The foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains were wearing the bright green shades issued them by spring. Daleville lay almost in the shadow of the Smokies, being a scant thirty miles west.
Sara's parents had passed on. Only her older sister, Maude remained. She was unwed and the mother of a little boy. She and the boy lived in the old shack on the river bank. In high school Sara had been called that pretty girl from the river shanty.
As the bus ate up the miles toward Daleville she wondered if Daleville had changed much in the two years she'd been away. Daleville now boasted a population of about forty thousand, she knew. The Eagle river ran through the western portion of the city. It was on the banks of the Eagle river in the old unpainted house that she had been born.
She wondered if she could look at the old homestead without crying. It would have memories of the mother she'd loved. Memories of her shiftless, lazy, and work-avoiding father whom she'd also loved. He had always shied away from regular work, taking odd jobs whenever he needed money for liquor or when he was out of hunting ammunition or fishing supplies.
Her mother had slaved in cafes, offices, laundries and homes to keep her pretty daughter in school. Even then Sara had been forced to work after school hours to stay in the swim and finish. Her father had been killed by a train while lying drunk on the track. Her older brother had been killed in a knife fight at Hussy Hollow. The Hollow was a collection of honky tonks, dives and gambling dens west of Daleville. Maude had become pregnant and given birth to a baby boy. No amount of persuasion had ever been able to draw from her the name of the boy's father. Her mother had died two months before Sara had finished school.
Finishing school, Sara had gone to Cincinnati to take a business course. Having just enough money to get there and get started she'd been forced to take a waitress job. She hadn't liked the job but she was determined to finish the course. Maude and the little boy had continued living in the old house. Her people always told her she had inherited her stubborn determination to never say die from a grandfather.
Now every turn of the wheels was bringing her back home with a headstrong and unshatterable determination... and with less than twenty dollars to her name... to show them. Yes, she was determined to show the blue noses and halo wearers in Daleville that the little, uncouth girl from the river shanty had made something of herself quite different from what they expected.
One of her strongest determinations was that no man would ever treat her as her sister had been treated. Back in high school Sara had watched the results of two of her girl friends after being seduced by older men. One, with a baby, had steadfastly refused to name the name responsible. Her parents, unable to face the shameful music, had moved with her to another town. The other girl, finding herself pregnant, had been sent away to have her baby and the baby had been given away. Sarah had remarked with cold fury that if ever a man did that to her she would make him acknowledge the baby publicly if it took her the rest of her life.
She had necked and kissed on Sweetheart Lane with her steady boy friend but only because she had had the idea she was in love with him. Later she'd realized that Jerry was only in love with himself, with no ambition or desire to carve out a career for himself. All he'd wanted was to be a playboy. Sara had dropped him. She'd had three proposals but hadn't been in love with any of the three.
In Cincinnati she'd had proposals wherein marriage hadn't been mentioned. All had been turned down.
The bus stopped in a small town to take on a couple of passengers. One of them, a tall shifty eyed man with wispy mustache reminded her of John Cullowhey the man responsible for her being on the way home. Her hazel eyes stirred with a little anger as she looked at the man.
"Next stop will be Creeder just across the Tennessee line," the friendly bus driver called out. "We stop there ten minutes. You have time for a sandwich or drink."
Sara got off and went to the ladies room.
Since no one got on Sara had the seat to herself.
Two more hours and the bus reached the Dale County line. She felt a twinge of excitement quite unlike anything she'd experienced in the two years she'd been away. She was coming back home. What a wonderful feeling it was. She wondered if Maude had aged any and wondered if her little boy had started to school.
The bus was now rolling past Duncans Cabins and Sara's cheeks pinked a bit as she recalled the night Bobby Furnston had gotten out his father's car and driven Sara there. He had tried to talk her into occupying a cabin with him. Bobby, just eighteen, had been quite awkward in his approach and Sara had had a hard time to keep from laughing at him.
When the bus was within five miles of Daleville, Sara was surprised at the new highway growths. There was the old snack stand where Jerry Lee-man had taken her on their first date. It was now empty and forsaken. In a few minutes now the highway would give way to Maple, the main street and the longest street in Daleville. She saw a new paved street coming into the highway from the left. Two years back it had been a muddy dirt road.
A red light stopped the bus at Five Points.
The bus went on, crossing the city limits and kept going on Maple. Sara kept her oval face glued to the window pane.
When the bus pulled into a parking space at the rear of the bus station Sara peered about eagerly but failed to see a single person she knew.
She was among the last to get off. She set her bags down and looked around. She stood there undecided a minute or two, was about to pick up her bags and walk out onto the street when she saw a young man walking toward her.
He was ruggedly built, wide shouldered and had dark wavy hair curling out from under his cap which was set jauntily back on his head. He was a couple of inches under six feet, wore gray pants and a sport shirt. She recognized him as Lester Holland.
Les had carried a torch for her since early high school days. She had always liked Les and respected him. But he had never lit the fuse to her emotions and exploded them into love for him.
"Why, hello, Les. How in the world did you know I was coming home?"
"Ben Nichols told me. I've been meeting every bus since he told me. I'm sure glad you're home, Sara. Are you here for a visit or to stay?"
He grinned boyishly, eagerly his gray eyes filled with admiration for her. He was a good looking young man with good health and he was overflowing with love for her. Sara had wondered a thousand times why she couldn't fall in love with him. He'd been her slave through high school. He had tried to get her to marry him before they graduated. When she'd left home he'd written her regularly and repeatedly, telling her he loved her and would do anything in the world for her.
Such devotion was touching and Sara, not wanting to hurt him, kept brushing off his proposals of marriage, saying she wasn't yet ready to marry. Now, as she read the eager message in his eyes, she was uneasy less he would ask her again.
"Do you have more luggage?"
"Yes, Les. Two larger bags."
He went for the baggage and Sara stood there troubled. Of course it pleased any girl to have a good looking fellow wildly in love with her. But she didn't want to string him along and she didn't want to hurt him by giving him the gate. She wanted Les for a friend but nothing more. But she knew that would never satisfy him.
As she waited for him to return several men gave her the eye. Two youths whistled at her. She was used to all that. Some girls pretended to be angry at such attention but for Sara it was only an act.
Les returned with the bags.
"Where shall I take you, Sara?"
"Why, out home of course. Have you seen Maude lately?"
He made no answer. He set the bags down and looked uncomfortable. Sara looked at him puzzledly. What was the matter with him? Why didn't he answer?
"Les, what is it? Has something happened to Maude?"
"Look, Sara you can't go out there."
"Why can't I? What are you trying to tell me, Les?"
He heaved a dismal sigh, shook his head sadly. "Somebody has to tell you. I reckon it might as well be me. Your sister sold the house and left town with her little boy. I heard that she went off with a carnival man."
Sara stared at him incredulously.
So that was why she hadn't heard from Maude. Another blow for her. She'd never have believed that Maude would sell the old place without asking her about it.
"Are you sure, Les? How do you know she sold the place?"
"I hated to tell you this, Sara. But I know she did sell out. It's on the courthouse records. You can see for yourself. I'm sorry, Sara. I would have written you about it but I thought of course that your sister had told you."
"Well, I'll have to seek another roof. Does Martha Brent still run her rooming house on Elm street?"
"Yes. I'm sure she does."
"Please take me there, Les. I'll get a room with Martha."
As the car nosed along in the traffic he told her he was partner with his father in the Holland Garage. She knew he had always been a good mechanic. The news about Maude hurt her deeply.
The one thing that had buoyed her up had been the expectation of coming home to a sister.
He parked the car before the rooming house. It was a large two story frame structure with a large front porch and wide lawn.
Les carried her bags to the front porch, put them down and rang the bell. As she waited Sara wondered if Martha Brent had ever married again. Probably not. Martha had lost her husband in World War Two. Sara knew she hadn't remarried up to the time she'd left home.
"Hello, Martha. I'm so glad to see you. I don't believe you've aged a single hour since I last saw you. How are you getting along?"
"Fine," the tall middle-aged woman with dark hair and eyes said shortly.
Sara waited for her to say something else. When she didn't Sara asked, "Martha, do you have a room for me?"
"No. I'm sorry but I'm all full." She closed the door.
Sara stared at the closed door bewilderedly. "Why, what can be the matter with her?" She looked at Les puzzledly. "She was always so friendly to me. Now she acted cold and real hostile. Do you know the reason, Les?"
Les shook his head. "Beats me."
Sara was halfway back to his car before the answer came to her. She stopped abruptly, looked at Les, her cheeks pinking. "Les... tell me something. Has that awful story about me gotten home ahead of me?"
"What story?" he asked lamely, looking uncomfortable and embarrassed.
"Now, look here, Les," she said, grasping his wrist to emphasize what she meant to say. "I want the truth. You've heard that story. I know you have by the funny way you looked. Out with it now. Unless you tell me the truth I shall never speak to you again."
"Well... " He stopped to get out a cigarette and light it. "Well, you might as well know, Sara. The story is all over town. I know it's not true because I know you. But just about everyone else believes it."
"Thank you, Les. Of course it was untrue. The husband was quick-witted enough to tell his wife the lie when she came in and caught him trying to rape me. I tried hard to get another job in Cincinnati but the story had gotten around. Employers who hadn't heard it checked my references and that was the end of any consideration for me."
"I knew it was a lie. I better not hear anyone else run you down over that lie. If I do I'm liable to knock somebody down."
"No, Les. I don't want you to do that."
"Where shall we go now, Sara?"
"Drive me to another rooming house, Les. Surely there must be some place where I can rent a room."
"You won't have to rent a room, Sara, if you'll marry me," he said hopefully as he drove away. "I've already asked you two dozen times or more. But I'm still hopeful." He darted a quick look at her to see how she'd taken it.
She put her hand softly on his wrist. "You're a fine fellow, Les. One of the nicest fellows I've ever known. But I must work my way out of this mess alone. It wouldn't be fair to let you marry me and the mess too."
"But, Sara... "
"Please, Les. Not now. Please don't say any more about it now. Right at present I'm all troubled over finding a room. I don't know whether all the places have heard that shameful story or... there's a rooming house on the other side of the street. Pull over there and we'll try it."
They did try it. All went well until the landlady asked Sara her name. When she heard the name she stared stonily at Sara, told her she was full up. They tried four other rooming houses with the same result. Sara was full of cold fury. As they left the last place Les tried to persuade her to go home with him and spend the night with his parents. Sara refused with thanks. She told him to drive her to the Starlight Hotel.
"The hotel won't care about references," she said bitterly. "Just so I pay in advance is all they want. And I am quite able to do that. But I'll have to find a job tomorrow or they'll soon be throwing me out. Luckily I have a job promised."
"Where?" asked Les.
"The Dale County Courier."
Les wondered why Ben Nichols hadn't told him about it when he'd talked to him. He decided Nichols hadn't thought of it.