A Virtuous Woman
Now Susanna was a very delicate woman, and beauteous to behold...One that feared the Lord.
– Susanna, King James Version
Old Judge Price was at the house again with his crony, Judge Craft. Susan couldn’t decide which one disgusted her more: Price, with his long drooping nose and rings under his eyes so dark he looked like a raccoon, or Craft, with more hair growing from his ears than the top of his head. But it wasn’t their wrinkled faces and arthritic hands she objected to. Even though love for her husband had drained from her until none was left, it was how they used him, sucking up to him and giving him the illusion of importance he craved, when all they wanted was his financial backing.
“I’m lost for how to set the schedule,” Price said. “You’re better than I am at this sort of thing. How should we work it out?”
The kickoff party for Price’s bid to win a congressional seat was the following evening, there at Josh and Susan’s home. With nothing much left to arrange and Josh footing the bill, Price’s phony helplessness suggested he was handing Josh a crucial decision. Josh paced the floor as if giving the matter weighty consideration before answering, unable to see the insincerity.
Their counterfeit facades had hoodwinked Josh when they first approached him at Our Savior Baptist Church. Price asked Josh if he should enter the primary contest for a congressional seat in Washington and Craft hinted Price wouldn’t do it without Josh’s blessing.
Josh crowed to his wife about how they’d consulted him.
“They’re going to ask for money, and lots of it,” Susan predicted.
She’d been right, of course. Price and Craft came over often, first for “advice” from Josh, then for donations to his campaign.
“They’re my friends,” Josh protested. “Why shouldn’t I help my friends?”
The way he looked for their approval as he considered the simple ordering for the event confirmed her opinion of him. He clung to the belief that the powerful men of the North Carolina town valued him for his opinions, insights, and refined sensibilities – anything but his deep pockets.
Susan’s distrust went deeper. The gaze of these half-desiccated elders betrayed their hunger for her, like drooling dogs waiting for dinner, It made her shudder.
“You’re looking more beautiful than ever,” Price praised.
Josh ate up the complement, blind to the way they ogled her as if undressing her in their minds. “She’s my beautiful flower that never wilts,” he said, trying to be poetic. “Beautiful inside and out.”
Susan’s cell phone dinged, a text she would read later from Danny, her friend ever since they’d been lab partners in high school chemistry. Her marriage and his confession of having a crush on her hadn’t interfered with their platonic camaraderie, but since she recently revealed the extent of her dissatisfaction with Josh, he texted and called too often for comfort.
Price and Craft cut off their conversation with Josh when Susan returned. The judges sat on the sofa, Josh standing over them in the mock importance they permitted.
Wearing sandals and a light summer dress, beach blanket and towel tucked under her arm, she announced, “I’ll be back later.”
Judge Price looked at her greedily, then jumped up when he glanced at his phone. “Oh, oh. I lost track of time. I’ve got to get to the courthouse.” He and Craft stood, shook hands with Josh, and left.
In company of the housekeeper, Susan stepped out the front door into the July afternoon heat. A slight breeze ruffled the trees. They crossed the carefully landscaped garden, with its flagstone walkways winding through native flowers and azaleas, then entered the woods.
The narrow path along the creek leading to a natural pool at the base of a small waterfall buoyed Susan’s mood until she heard the snap of a twig behind them. Grabbing the housekeeper’s arm, she held her index finger to her lips. They stood perfectly still and waited for another sound that didn’t come. A squirrel most likely. They picked their way along the trail. A little before her swimming hole, Susan stopped again. No sounds, other than another squirrel scampering up a tree. She sent the maid back to the house when they reached the secluded spot. Fifty yards beyond the creek, a line of “No Trespassing” signs kept others off their property. She was the only one who ever came here other than birds that flitted in the branches, and the occasional possum, deer, or black bear that wandered by.
Susan set her blanket on the grass, paused again to make sure no one was around, then took off her clothes and eased into the stream. The initial shock of the cold water made her suck in her breath until she relaxed. At its center, the small pool reached about five feet deep. She floated on her back, languidly kicking her legs and looking up at the green canopy against an intense blue sky. When the cold of the stream seeped into her, she waded to the shallows, nearing the bank.
“Looking pretty good there, Susie.”
Judge Price and his sidekick moved from their hiding place behind the trees into full view. Susan, mouth open in shock and horror, took a couple of steps back, slipped, and splashed backwards into the pond.
Sitting on her blanket, Craft laughed and picked up her bra. “I always figured this was covering up a nice set of tits. I see I wasn’t wrong.”
Backing into deeper water, submerged up to her neck, Susan recovered enough composure to put on a brave front. “I always figured your judge’s robes covered up a revolting pervert, Mr. Craft. I see I wasn’t wrong.”
She wouldn’t let them see, but she feared what they were capable of. Older parishioners from church had passed on knowledge obtained from their husbands; Craft, a bachelor, made regular trips to Nevada, and in the past to Bangkok, for their legal prostitution. He’d done something to a woman in Thailand and faced arrest if he returned. As for Price, when his wife left him many years ago, she let it be known it was to protect herself and the children from his physical abuse, and word passed down to her generation. As adults, the ladies whispered, his children had nothing to do with him.
Price joined his companion on Susan’s blanket. Picking up her underwear, he held it to his long nose. “Ah, what an endearing fragrance. I’ll bet you’re nice and tight, too, Susie.”
Shaking from fright and the cold water, she kept up her bravado. “Not that you’ll ever find out.”
Willowy, fine-boned, the winner of Miss North Carolina Teen USA in her senior year, Susan had endured embarrassing comments about her body throughout adolescence. As an adult, she learned to dismiss the catcalls and whistles of the overgrown teenagers who passed for men in Burnsville. No one had ever come close to Price’s vulgarity, which sparked as much rage as terror.
“We’ll see about that.” Judge Price smiled, deepening the wrinkles in his face. “You can’t stay in there forever.”
She turned around and crossed the frigid stream to the other side, where she took refuge behind a massive oak.
Craft called out, “Nice ass, Susie.”
My name’s Susan,” she hollered, peeking out from behind the tree. She resisted the impulse to scream for help. It would underscore her defenselessness and only Price and Craft would hear. After several minutes, sunlight filtering through the leaves began drying her.
“What are you two worms doing here? What do you want?”
Craft spoke first, calling out over the sound of gurgling water. “A blow job wouldn’t hurt.”
“I’d prefer a good old-fashioned lay myself,” Price said.
Her knees wobbled and she felt lightheaded. They intended to rape her. Keeping a lid on her rising panic, she yelled back, “You’ve got my blanket and you’ve got each other. Go at it. You’ll have privacy, you’re too repulsive to watch.”
Price laughed. “I always admired your spunk, Susie. But here’s what going to happen. You’re going to come over here and give my buddy his blow job. Then I’ll take my turn. How does that sound?”
“Like you’re delusional.”
She shivered, although she was almost dry now, the chill gone. To escape, she would have to make it through a half mile of untrammeled forest in her bare feet. Even if Price and Craft didn’t follow, she would have to walk stark naked on the road. Not an option. She gathered rocks small enough to throw but large enough to do damage. She found a thick, solid stick to swing and leaned it against the oak. Her arsenal gave her little solace. The two of them could still overpower her.
“Susie,” Price called out.
“I said my name’s Susan.”
“Here’s my offer, Susie. You come over here and satisfy our natural male desires, and we’ll never bother you again. No one will ever...”
“God will know,” she interrupted. “He already knows what you’re doing. He sees the blackness in your heart.”
“To hell with God, Susie. Give us what we want. Otherwise, we’ll tell your husband that we found you here with a lover. He’s already afraid you have one, and he’ll believe us. Then we’ll spread word around until the whole town is convinced you’re an adulterous slut.”
He was right. Josh would believe them. Women jealous of her looks and men who regarded her with longing, too. From the scant protection of her tree, she considered her best course of action.
Barry Fields lived and worked for many years as a psychologist in New Mexico, where two of his short stories placed in regional contests. In March of this year a short story, “A Matter of Justice,” appeared in 34th Parallel Magazine. In April, “Induction Day” appeared in Sundial: A Magazine of Literary Historical Fiction. Prankster is in the August issue of New English Review. In addition, he has had numerous nonfiction articles in a variety of publications. He now lives with his wife and dog in North Carolina. Barry recommends Doctors without Borders.