Later that night, with the lights off, he sat propped up in bed and stared at the television and thought about the next time.
Next time, maybe he would take off his clothes. Maybe try on some of her things. (If he stole a pair of her panties, would she notice they were gone?) Maybe he would lie down on her bed, stretch out naked on the same sheet she slept on. In the bathroom, maybe he'd find a towel Darcy had used after a bath or shower. It might still be damp. A towel that had rubbed her body all over.
***
Someone shook Kyle's shoulder. He woke up, startled, and rolled onto his back. His father was leaning over the bed, face grey in the fluttery light from the television. The screen was fuzzy, the way it looks after a station has signed off for the night. Kyle glanced at the digital clock on his bed table. Two thirty-six.
'What's wrong?' he murmured.
His heart sped up. He knew what was wrong. Dad knew he hadn't been in Darcy's room to leave books for her.
'Get dressed and come with me,' Dad whispered.
This was strange; if Dad meant to give him a lashing, or even just a lecture, he'd do it here, wouldn't he? Maybe he had some other kind of punishment in mind.
Maybe he plans to make me face Darcy! At this hour?
'Where are we going?'
'Do like I say.'
Dad didn't sound angry, but Kyle heard a tremor in his voice. Was he scared about something? Excited?
Kyle climbed out of bed. His clothes were draped on a chair. With his back to his father, he dropped his pyjama pants and put on his jockey shorts. He started to step into the good slacks he'd worn for hosting at the Chalet.
'Not those,' Dad said. 'Put on some grubbies.'
Why?
He didn't ask. He went to his closet, and got into jeans and an old shirt. Then he put on socks and jogging shoes.
Dad led the way. The lights had been dimmed in the deserted lobby. The hotel was silent. Kyle felt as if the building itself were asleep.
Dad said nothing.
They walked down the corridor of the east wing, even walked past the door of 115, the final guestroom.
We're going to the stairs, Kyle thought. He is taking me up to Darcy's room.
But Dad stopped at the very last door before the corridor's end. It was unmarked. In the past, Kyle had tried to unlock it. This was the one door he'd found in the entire hotel that didn't open to the pass key.
Dad had told him, long ago and more than once, that it was a storeroom.
He's gonna lock me in!
You like sneaking into rooms so much, spend some time in this.
Dad took a leather key case out of his pocket. It was the one Kyle had given him for his last birthday. He unsnapped it. On one of the metal clips were two matching keys, one that looked shiny and new. He tugged the new key loose, and held it up in front of Kyle's eyes. It shone like gold in the dim lights.
'I had this made for you on your fifteenth birthday,' he whispered, still in that same tense voice. 'But I saved it till I was sure you were ready.'
'Ready for what?' Kyle rubbed his sweaty hands on his jeans.
'I saw you coming out of that room tonight, I figured it was time.'
'I didn't do anything.'
'Oh, I got a pretty good idea what you were doing. Used to do it myself. Then one day, my Daddy gave me one of these.' He handed the bright new key to Kyle. 'Go on, open her up.'
Kyle's hand shook so badly that the point of the key scraped the lock face. His father took his hand, held it steady, and guided the key in. Kyle turned it. He opened the door.
He glimpsed red curtains, an easy chair. Then Dad nudged him forward, followed him inside and closed the door.
The small room was dark except for a faint glow coming in around the edges of the curtains. A hand on Kyle's shoulder guided him, turned him.
'Now, don't yell or anything,' Dad whispered.
Silently, the curtains parted.
Kyle's mind reeled. His heart hammered. His breath rushed out.
He was standing no more than two feet from a window - not a window, exactly. It had to be a two-way mirror. A full length mirror like those on the bathroom doors of all the other units. This one, however, was obviously not on the bathroom door. It was set into the wall.
On the other side of the glass was a guest-room.
Room 115.
Its lights were on.
On the bed was the woman he'd seated at the Chalet, the one with the rose blossom perfume.
The bed covers lay heaped on the floor and she was squirming on the sheet.
'Name's Amy,' Dad said. 'Amy Lawson.'
She was naked.
A wide band of white tape covered her mouth. Her hands were tied together with clothes-line, arms stretched overhead and secured to the wrought-iron bedframe. Her legs were spread far apart, tied at the ankles to the corners of the frame.
Kyle stared. He had never seen a real woman naked. Pictures in magazines, but never the real thing.
This was better than anything he had ever imagined.
Her struggles to free herself made it even better. She was rocking, twisting, arching her back, pulling at the ropes. Her big breasts bobbed and swayed. Her skin was shiny with sweat. It looked dark and polished from the sun, pure white where a bikini had kept the sun away. There were faint, reddish patches on her breasts and shoulders and thighs. Dad, Kyle thought, must've made those.
Dad, for sure, had done the number on her face. The face had been pounded pretty good. A cheek was red and swollen, and one eye was swollen almost shut.
'I always put the best-looking babes in 115,' Dad whispered. 'Sometimes, they're just for looking. This one checked in by herself. When they do that, sometimes they get the treatment. What do you think?' he asked.
Kyle muttered, 'Neat.'
He gazed at the writhing woman, hardly able to breathe. He felt trapped inside his jeans, his rigid penis threatening to ejaculate. It was the way he'd felt in Darcy's room just before he rushed out.
But some of the urgency drained away as his father eased him aside. The man crouched for a moment, then stood up and twisted a pair of latches near the top of the mirror's frame. Just below the latches were two metal handles. Dad gripped them and pushed the mirror outward. Stepping over a foot-high section of wall he entered the room, carrying the mirror in front of him.
'Come on in,' Dad said.
Amy made quiet whiny noises.
Kyle stepped into the room.
She stopped squirming. She watched him with wide eyes.
Dad propped the mirror against the wall near the opening to the secret room. Then he put a hand on Kyle's shoulder. 'She's all yours, son. I'll be back in an hour.'
Dad went out through the regular door.
Kyle stared at the naked, sweaty body.
This can't be happening, he thought. He felt as if his father had taken him by the hand and led him into a dream - an amazing, erotic dream that was too wonderful to be true.
It's not a dream, he told himself.
I'm really here.
And I've got an hour.
As fast as he could, Kyle took off his clothes.
***
In spite of her humiliation and anger at being seen half naked by Kyle, Darcy was glad to have the jacket. From neck to waist, at least, she felt warm.
Greg met her just before she reached the dock.
Now, if he'd been the one to show up at the grotto…
I'm sure feeling lively, she thought, and smiled at him. 'How's it going?' she asked.
'Not bad. There's a fellow with Tom who said he'd stick with him on the way out.'
'Okay, good. How would you like to take up the rear and keep an eye out for stragglers?'
'Fine.'
'I'll get the other flashlight from Beth. Here, you take this one.' She gave it to him. 'It's the stronger of the two. It should be good enough to keep things fairly bright for everyone.'
'We ought to count noses before we start out.'
Darcy nodded. Then she faced the group and called for attention. 'In just a minute,' she said, 'we'll start for the elevators. But I want to give you some instructions first. Most of you came down here with friends or family. I want you to stay close to those you came with. Hold hands or something so you don't lose each other. Any of you who came alone, step up to the front right now, and we'll make sure you get a partner.'
Several people started working their way forward. They gathered in front of Darcy. One was Kyle. Four of the others looked around, formed pairs, and introduced themselves to their new companions.
'Why don't I be your partner,' Kyle said to Darcy.
'That'd leave somebody out,' she told him. 'Who's still alone?' she asked.
A girl raised her hand.
A blonde with a pony tail. She looked fifteen or sixteen. Darcy wondered what a girl that age was doing on the tour without her parents. 'What's your name?' she asked.
'Paula Whitmore,' the girl answered.
'Okay, Paula. Do you want to pair up with this young man?'
She looked at Kyle, smiled and nodded. 'Sure. If it's all right with him.'
He shrugged and said, 'I'm Kyle.'
'Okay,' Darcy said, 'it's you two, then.' She felt guilty about sticking Paula with Kyle. It seemed like a dirty trick, just a way to keep the jerk off her own back. Hell, she told herself, it's only natural to pair them up. They're the same age and everything. And Paula could have objected. The girl might actually enjoy having a male escort.
Darcy turned her attention to the rest of the group. 'Okay, now. Does anyone not have at least one partner?' Nobody responded. 'Once we start out, I want each of you to be responsible for three things. First, stay beside your partner. Second, keep track of the people directly in front of you. If it's too dark to see them, keep a hand on one of them. Third, pay attention to the people right behind you. Don't leave them behind. There's no hurry.
'With a flashlight at each end of the group, there should be at least a little light. Some of you have matches, lighters, and cameras with flashes. If necessary, use them. But don't waste them. The trip will probably take about an hour, and we really don't know how long we'll be in the cavern before electricity is restored. I think we should try to get by with the flashlights, and save the matches and things in case we need them later on.
'If anyone has trouble along the way, call out and we'll stop immediately. Any questions?'
'Couldn't we make torches or something?' It was the voice of the boy who'd asked about the damming effects of Ely's wall.
'I guess we could,' Darcy answered, 'but I don't think it's really necessary. The flashlights should be enough to keep us in light until we reach the elevators.'
'Are there any bats down here?' asked a woman near the back.
'No. Bats used to inhabit the cavern, but they didn't last long after Ely Mordock sealed the natural opening. The same goes for cave rats and other wildlife. So you don't need to worry about running into any nasty critters down here.'
'Well, thank goodness for that,' the woman said.
'Any more questions?'
'We gonna stand around here all day?'
Greg swung the flashlight across the group and found - the face of the man in the Peterbilt hat. Squinting against the glare, the man turned his head away.
'Any other questions?' Darcy asked. When no response came, she said, 'Let's have Tom at the front here.'
He came forward, walking slowly, Jim and Beth Donner on either side of him. Darcy was glad to see that they weren't holding him up. A belt was wrapped around his head to hold cloth pads against his wound.
'I'm going to lead the way,' Darcy announced. 'Greg will take up the rear. He has a flashlight, and he'll keep-an eye on everyone.'
'You'll need this,' Beth said, and gave her flashlight to Darcy. It seemed only about half as bright as the one Greg held, but it was still strong enough to do the job.
Greg put a hand on her shoulder; it felt big and warm through the jacket. 'Whenever you're ready,' he said, speaking quietly, 'I'll stay put and count them as they go by.'
'Great,' she told him. She faced the others. 'Everybody ready?'
'Head 'em up, move 'em out!' The kid who'd asked about torches. Darcy was starting to like him.
She turned around, then raised the hand with the flashlight high overhead, swept it down, and started walking. The wooden planks of the dock creaked under her feet, and rumbled as those behind her began to move. A few strides took her to the concrete walkway.
She kept the beam aimed low, lighting the area just ahead of her feet. Soon, she spotted the steps to the grotto on her right. The encounter with Kyle forced its way into her mind. She felt herself blushing.
The little creep's probably thinking about it right now.
***
Kyle, watching the dim shape of Darcy beyond the three people in front of him, saw her head turn. The grotto's over there, he thought, and felt a warm stir in his groin as he remembered the way she'd looked.
Nothing on but her panties, and he could see right through those.
He'd been in her room three times, so far, and now he'd seen her nearly naked. The next thing was to get her.
Put her in 115.
Dad won't let that happen, though. She's a guide. She's not like Amy Lawson, someone you can just get rid of.
There must be a way.
The girl beside Kyle suddenly stumbled and grabbed his arm. Steady again, she muttered, 'Sorry,' and released her grip.
'It's all right,' Kyle said.
'I'm such a klutz sometimes.'
'Maybe you should take my hand,' he said, so polite, as if he were hosting at the Chalet.
She put her hand in his. It felt warm. Kyle looked at her. He couldn't see much, just that she was wearing glasses. But he remembered what she looked like. Even though he'd kept his eyes mostly on Darcy during the tour, he'd checked out all the other females. This one had blonde hair in a pony tail, and was kind of pretty in spite of the glasses. She was wearing a white blouse, an open white sweater, a plaid skirt with pleats, and knee socks. Kyle recalled that she had big breasts for someone so slim.
He noticed, now, that she smelled good. Not fresh like Darcy or flowery like Amy. It was an aroma that made him think of cotton candy.
'Where are you from?' she asked.
'Oh, I live around here.' He decided not to tell her that his father owned the place. 'How about you?'
'I'm from Santa Monica, California.'
'You're a long way from home.'
'We're visiting my uncle in Albany. My dad's brother. We rented a car so we could explore around for a few days.'
'You and your parents?'
'Just my dad and me. My mom died three years ago.'
'Oh, I'm sorry.' He wasn't sorry. He didn't even know the girl's mother. But it seemed like the right thing to say.
She squeezed his hand. 'That's okay. What about you?'
'Mine ran off with somebody.'
'So you live with your father, just like me.'
'You live with my father?'
She laughed quietly. 'Silly.'
'What are you doing down here without him?'
'He's got claustrophobia.'
'You're kidding.'
'No, honest.' The way she sounded, Kyle guessed she was grinning.
'And he brought you to a cavern?'
'Well, I saw it in the guide book and I said it sounded neat. So here I am. He's probably shitting bricks, if you'll pardon my French.'
'Shit ain't French.'
She giggled, and the pale blur of her right hand darted up to cover her mouth. When it lowered again, she said, 'You're weird, Kyle.'
'I'm not weird. Shit's English. It's in Chaucer. Past tense is shat. He shat a brick.'
Stifling more giggles, she bumped her shoulder against Kyle. 'That's awful.'
The woman just in front of them, who was walking beside Tom, looked over her shoulder. She said nothing. A moment l
ater, she faced forward again.
Kyle gave her the finger.
Paula bumped him again.
This isn't bad, he thought. She likes me. Maybe I can cop a feel before we get out of here.
***
Carol Marsh flinched as Helen put an arm around her back.
'You're shaking like a leaf,' Helen said.
'I'm freezing, that's all.'
'You should've paid attention. I warned you it would be chilly down here.'
Yes, Helen had warned her. Helen was full of advice. She was thirty-six, only five years older than Carol, but she treated Carol like a child. Too many years in the classroom with kids short on common sense.
She'd been that way since Carol started at George Washington Elementary School. Carol's first day on the job, the more experienced teacher took her under her wing. And kept her there ever since.
The mother-hen treatment never bothered her much until this trip. Being in Helen's company day after day, night after night, Carol had started feeling smothered and annoyed by the treatment.
By now, the fifth day of their vacation, she had it up to her nose with the constant advice and the underlying assumption that she was incapable of running her own life.
This morning in the hotel room when Helen had said, 'You're not going on the tour in that, I hope,' she replied, 'I don't see anything wrong with it.'
It was a yellow sundress.
'Well, at least put on a sweater. You don't want to catch a cold.'
'It's ninety degrees outside.'
'We'll be a hundred and fifty feet below ground in a chilly, damp cave. And the guidebook… Let me get it.' She's going to read me a lesson. Helen found the booklet, opened it to a map she had used to mark her place, and read, ' "Mordock Cavern, while warmer than many similar caves in summer due to its unusual ventilation system which circulates air from the surface, nonetheless remains chilly. Those wishing to take the tour in comfort are advised to wear sweaters or light jackets." '