"Yes, Mom," she said, following the older woman through the large, rambling house. Dad was waiting in the crescent-shaped driveway in the big Mercedes. DesirЋe got in the back and they moved smoothly away in the direction of the small town that had become the center of their lives since having moved here.

Mark would be there, waiting for her.

Clete Anderson stood cocksure and grinning by his pickup truck, pushing out his big, hairy chest against the uniform shirt he wore and the badge that gleamed on the left side of it. This Sunday morning, he chewed on a donut and watched the people filing out of the church house while the pleasantly-smiling Pastor Hemmings shook their hands. It was a fine, sunny day and going to church was not exactly what Clete would have done to pass the time, but despite his being the sheriff and one of the very few black men in this town of rich retirees and well-to-do farmers, he had few friends among the people he served as lawman.

Clete was a hard man, not very well-mannered, but he had his finger on his job and no one could take that away from him, and he was proud that he had succeeded in landing himself a fiancee just eighteen months after his arrival. Well, at least Nancy Pace, his new love, didn't care about his race and seemed more than taken with his capable lawman's image. Yes, Nancy was his, or soon would be, when he had broken down her resistance to his sexual demands. She was a sweet little innocent and he was sure that her protestations about her virginity were real, but he had no intention of waiting until their marriage to make use of her luscious, young body. He had to admit that the lovely girl, just nineteen years old, was one of the loveliest around, with but only two or three equals that he knew of.

But there was one girl that interested him more than any, and it galled him that someone else had found her first. The problem was, she had never warmed to his approaches and his flattery, but had always just shyly smiled and acted as if she didn't get the idea.