“I don’t have any rubbers.”

“Not to worry.”

Norm colored when Casey pulled several foil-wrapped condoms out of her purse. She laughed.

“Didn’t expect to get laid on the first date, did you? Now get us a room fast, Norman. I’m wet already.”

Before Norm could turn on the lights, Casey was stroking his crotch and unbuttoning his shirt. Moments later, they were naked and rolling on top of the bedspread. Casey pushed him down and sucked until he thought he’d explode. Her mouth disappeared just when he was going to come. When he opened his eyes, Casey had turned her body so her crotch was over him and she was commanding him to use his tongue to make her come. In his limited experience, Norm had never gone down on a woman but he was so eager to be touched again that he did as she said. Whenever his efforts slackened, she stroked him for encouragement, but stopped before he was satisfied.

Bringing her off proved easy. He tried to get inside Casey, but she made him bring her to orgasm a second time before she’d touch him again. When she finally let him inside her he was so excited that he came instantly and collapsed beside her.

“Jesus,” he gasped. Casey didn’t say anything. After a few seconds she stood up, grabbed her purse and walked to the bathroom. A yellow glow framed her for a moment when she turned on the light. Her back was to him. Norman took in her perfect form, the long, tanned legs, the symmetry of her back, the line of her spine, and her long, golden hair. Then she shut the door and left him in the dark. Norm was covered with sweat. He felt like he’d run a marathon. This was the best sex he’d ever had by miles.

The toilet flushed and Casey came out of the bathroom. In the few seconds that she was standing in the light, Norm thought he saw a trace of white powder on her upper lip. Then the lights went out and she was on him again.

For Norm, the next two months were a blur of heavy sex and heavier longings. He and Casey spent every Thursday and Sunday night together, and Norm spent the other days fantasizing about the next time they would be together. The couple made love in motels, forest glens, the alley behind a bar, the back seat of Norm’s car, and any other place where the urge overcame them. In all that time, Casey never asked him to Glen Oaks or let him pick her up there. She would not let him call her at home, either. She wouldn’t even give him the Van Meters’ unlisted number. Casey always called him at the garage to set up their trysts. Norm guessed that she didn’t want her folks to know that she was slumming. He was insulted when he thought about it, but mostly he thought about Casey naked and sweating in bed with him.

Then the phone calls stopped. A Thursday and a Sunday went by without seeing Casey. Norm was wound so tight that he almost took off two fingers with a power tool and dropped a mug of hot coffee. Vernon noticed that his nephew was on the prowl but said nothing. He knew Norm was in love, and people in love acted the way Norm was acting.

Norm tried to get the number for the mansion, but the best he could do was the Academy office. Twice, the receptionist promised to give Casey a message asking her to phone. The third time the receptionist told him that Miss Van Meter did not wish to speak to him. Desperate, Norm drove to Glen Oaks. The houseman left him standing outside while his request to speak to Casey was delivered. Moments later, the houseman returned. Casey had instructed him to tell Norm that he was forbidden to try to contact her again and that the police would be informed of any further harassment.

Norm had always known that he was in over his head, but he’d convinced himself that the affair would go on forever. He even had fantasies in which he and Casey married and moved to her estate where he drove the Thunderbird every day and lived in luxury. The threat of police action convinced him that his dreams of marital bliss would not come true. It was a bitter pill. Withdrawal from sex with someone like Casey was as difficult as swearing off heroin. Norm wrote one pain-filled letter, which was never answered, before resigning himself to the fact that he would probably never see Casey again.

Norm’s desperate letter contained his return address. The Wednesday after he sent it, Vern told him that he had a phone call. Norm’s heart pounded. He wiped his damp hands on a rag as he rushed to the gas-station office.

“Norman Spencer?” a man asked.

“Yeah.”

“If you want to find out why Casey dumped you come alone to the parking lot at Tryon Creek State Park tonight at ten.”

“Who…?” Norm started, but the line had gone dead.

Norm walked back to the garage in a trance. The man had not sounded friendly, but there was no question that he was going to the park.

Tryon Creek State Park abutted the campus of Lewis and Clark College ’s Northwestern School of Law in Southwest Portland. Hiking trails crisscrossed the wooded acres. During the daylight hours the park was a popular spot for lovers to stroll and joggers to run. At ten, the park was dark, and the lot was empty except for a beat-up pickup truck that was parked in a space near the entrance to one of the nature trails.

Norm parked a few spaces down from the truck and walked over to take a look. The night was warm, and he was dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. He bent down and peered through the cab window just long enough to satisfy himself that the truck was empty.

“Spencer,” a voice called from the trailhead. When Norm turned, he saw a man standing in the shadows several feet in on the trail. He walked forward, and the man faded into the darkness. Norm grew wary, but his need to find out what had happened with Casey overrode his common sense. He headed down the trail but the man had disappeared. He stopped and looked around. The voice called out again from farther down the trail.

Norm peered into the night. “I’m getting tired of playing hide-and-seek. If you’ve got something to say, come out and say it.”

There was no answer. Norm was angry. He knew that he should get in his car and drive away, but he did not want his tormentor to know that he was scared, so he rushed up the trail hoping to catch the man off guard. A baseball bat slammed into his shin, taking him off his feet. The pain was excruciating. He came down hard on his head and lay in the dirt, dazed. The second blow crashed across his shoulders.

Norm tried to stand but more blows drove him down. He could see his attackers through a red-tinted haze. There were three of them, and two of them hefted bats. The third reared back and delivered a brutal kick to Norm’s ribs. He heard something crack. An electric jolt of pain seared him, and he passed out for a second. When the world came back in focus, Miles Van Meter was squatting next to him, holding a handful of Norm’s hair. He used the hair to lift Norm’s head off of the ground. Rage distorted Miles’s features.

“You knocked up my sister, you fuck, but you will never see her or your little bastard. If you ever try to contact her again you’ll think this beating is the best thing that ever happened to you.”

Miles smashed his fist into Norm’s nose, crushing it. Then he stood up and nodded. The other two men beat Norm until he passed out.