Cutler 05 - Darkest Hour

breasts.
    "Niles, we better stop before it's too late."
    "I will," he promised, but he didn't stop and I didn't push him away, even after I felt his hardness building against me.
    "Niles, have you ever done anything like this before?" I asked.
    "No."
    "Then how do we know when to stop?" I asked. He was so occupied with caressing me, he didn't respond, but I knew if I didn't remind him, we would certainly go too far. "Niles, please, how do we know when to stop?"
    "We'll know," he promised and kissed me harder. I felt his hand move in between his stomach and mine until it settled over my pelvic bone and his fingers twitched, causing a shock of such great excitement to pass through my body that I jumped.
    "No, Niles," I said, pushing him away with all the resistance I had left in me. "If we do that, we won't stop."
    He lowered his head and took deep breaths and then nodded.
    "You're right," he said, and turned over on the bed. I could see the bulge in his pants.
    "Does it ache, Niles?" I asked.
    "What?" He looked in the direction I was gazing and sat up quickly.
    "Oh. No," he said, turning crimson. "I'm all right. But I'd better go. I don't know how good I can be if I stay here much longer," he confessed. He got up quickly and brushed back his hair. He avoided looking at me and went to the window. "I'd better get back anyway."
    I wrapped my blanket around me and went to him. I pressed my cheek against his shoulder and he kissed my hair.
    "I'm glad you came, Niles."
    "Me too."
    "Be careful getting down from the roof. It's very high."
    "Hey, I'm an expert tree climber, aren't I?"
    "Yes. I remember," I said, laughing, "that was practically the first thing you told me that first day we walked home from school together—you bragged about tree climbing."
    "I'd climb the highest mountain, the tallest tree to get to you, Lillian," he swore. We kissed and then he crawled out. He hesitated by my window for a moment and disappeared in the darkness. I listened to him scurry over the roof.
    "Good night," I whispered.
    "Good night," I heard him whisper back and then I closed the window.
    Charles Slope was the first to find him the next morning, crumpled beside the house, his neck broken from the fall.

 
    10
ALL MY LUCK IS BAD
     
    I awoke to the sound of screams. I recognized Tottie's voice and then I heard Charles Slope shouting orders to some of the other help. I slipped into my robe quickly and stepped into my slippers. The commotion continued outside, so I defied Papa's order and left my room. I hurried down the hallway to the top of the stairway. Like frightened chickens, everyone was running every which way. I saw Vera charge through the foyer carrying a blanket. I shouted for her, but she didn't hear me, so I started down the stairs.
    "Where are you going?" Emily screamed from behind me. She had just stepped out of her room.
    "Something terrible has happened. I've got to see what it is," I explained.
    "Papa said you can't leave your room. Get back!" she ordered, her long arm and bony forefinger jabbing toward my door. I ignored her and continued down the stairs. "Papa forbade you to leave your room. Get back!" she screamed, but I was already crossing the foyer to the front door.
    I wish I had gone back. I wish I had never left that room, never gone out of this house, never met a living soul. A small, empty feeling had started at the bottom of my stomach even before I reached the front door. It felt as if I had swallowed a chicken feather and it floated within me, occasionally tickling my insides. Somehow I managed to continue, to walk out of the house, down the porch steps and around to the side where I saw Charles, Vera, Tottie and two of the laborers gazing down at the body now beneath the blanket. When I saw and recognized the shoes poking out, I felt my legs soften and turn into rubber. I looked up and saw the broken gutter pipe dangling and I screamed and fell to the lawn.
    Vera was the first to reach me. She embraced me and I rocked in her arms.
    "What happened?" I cried.
    "Charles says that gutter pipe gave way and he fell. He must've landed on his head is all we can figure."
    "Is he all right?" I cried. "He must be all right."
    "No, honey, he ain't. It's the Thompson boy, ain't it? Was he in your room last night?" she asked. I nodded.
    "But he left early and he's a good climber," I said. "He can climb the toughest tree."
    "It wasn't him; it was the gutter pipe," Vera repeated. "His folks must be out of their minds