Let's Go Play at the Adams'

Barbara again. Unfortunately, of course, they had all agreed to do nothing unusual to at-

tract attention, and normally he never went over there at night. Dropping down on the

center thwart of the boat, he sat knees together, shoulders sloping, chin in hand, inducing

and savoring a new feeling of miserable bliss.

Actually, when it comes to sheer exposure of flesh, John Randall had seen much- more of

Barbara the times that everyone had gone swimming together than he ever had today. Her

bikini bathing suit worn unconsciously in their presence, left exactly three and a half small

things to the imagination, and while John admired her more than he hoped was noticeable,

still it was somewhat abstract admiration.

Barbara was fun and friendly and a helluva good swimmer; she was almost like one of

them, but it frost-

41

ed him that like other adults, she just seemed to take it for granted that all kids were

dumb and innocent and friendly and everything else, and that all they thought of was

staying in line and having fun. Her obvious assumption that down deep they were just

what she wanted them to be-good and well-behaved-was a real put-down. Her

stupidity, her cheerful bossiness, that coercion be could forgive in someone really,

older-and so, really stupid-could not be forgiven in someone who looked like, who

pretended to be a girl not much older than John himself. It rankled. It aggravated. Who

would ever go for someone like that? Well, that was what he had thought, all right.

How different today!

He sighed, shifted position slightly, and-thus reminded that there was water in the boat-

began idly, mechanically to bail. From time to time he stopped and stared, preoccupied,

at the surface of the creek.

John had been scared and embarrassed this morning. Barbara was tied and gagged

pretty well, but it had seemed like they only had her. It was as if the weight of law and

order she represented must have allies everywhere, as if something terrific was going to

happen to them any second. Even now, he wasn't sure it wouldn't occur sooner or later.

Nonetheless, the afternoon had been great, the greatest experience John Randall had

ever had. He didn't know exactly what it was: it was just something about the way she

acted (as if, indeed, - she could have acted any other way-John didn't think about that).

When it was his tum to watch her and Dianne had left to keep an eye on the kids at the

beach, he went into the bedroom, and Barbara was looking at him as if something

different was going to happen. When he simply sat down a little to one side, pulled .his

towel around his neck and propped his feet on the bed, however, she had turned away,

and after a while her head had slowly dropped forward. It was then that something

about the smooth back of her neck, the curve of her shoulders, the way she sat there

barelegged

42

and sort of innocent and kid-looking, entirely charmed him.

John Randall was largely truthful with himself in regarding this as a surprise. The day had

been filled with emotions-nervousness, embarrassment, daring, excitement, foreboding,

and perhaps some covetousness-but yet he had entered the room feeling more a sense of

danger and disbelief than anything else. It was impossible not to think of the trouble of

keeping this whole game going, the chances of being caught, the things that would happen

when it was all over-quite truly, he had a number of sober thoughts in his mind-and it was

only after some time that he really studied the girl before him.

Silent, subdued of body if not of spirit, sweetly patient (or so he thought) enduring just

enough picturesque pain and discomfort to keep her alert, Barbara became minute by

minute a kind of girl he had never seen or suspected to exist. In fact, as he became atten-

tive, even hypnotized by the sight, it became clear to him that he had never seen a real

girl, a woman, before in his whole life.

Girls-in John Randall's estimation-were a pain in the ass. They came at you and were

friendly enough, but if you responded, they turned and ran again and stood giggling in

clutches of their own kind. They might touch you now and then, but if you touched back,

they pushed you away as if you had broken something-s-or something. They came around

in fantasies and kept you awake at nights, and yet-such was John's conclusion-girls really

didn't need boys now or ever in their lives. Despite the fairly steady sight of marriages and

enduring romances in the community and even in school, be was convinced of this. You

needed girls-i- sleepless nights attested to it-and they didn't need you. That was the pain in

the ass. But Barbara was different.

She was now.

Though it was imposed and enforced, of course, she had during the afternoon, exuded a

feminine qual-

43

ity of submission that literally drenched the room. Moreover, the tension between John