Archive Note: The chapter headings in this pocketbook were numbered from one to three ... at which point the numbering slipped back to 'two' and continued to 'five' ... and there are two chapters labeled 'five'.
FOREWORD
The child was suddenly a woman. She was wearing a white nightgown, draped tantalizingly over her body. Her skin, white and flawless, took on a marbleized texture beneath the sheer material.
"I bought it just for you," she whispered in that soft, throaty tone, thick with lust and trembling ever so slightly.
David's glance automatically dropped to the dark points of her breasts, subtly shadowed behind the gown. High and full, the mounds of flesh stood out, beckoning him to come closer, to touch, to kiss, to do anything he wanted with her.
She reached for the pink silk ribbon above her breasts and tugged the bow open. "Maybe you'd like it better if I took this off," she crooned, as the nightgown slid down her arms and floated to the floor.
Then, glistening and naked, she sauntered up to him and rubbed the hard points of her breasts across the front of his damp shirt. "Feel good?" she murmured as she leaned a little closer to him and brushed his thigh with a fingertip.
CHAPTER ONE
He was glad that he was alone. It seemed that he never had any time to himself any more. It was just what the doctor ordered. It was all crazy, he told himself. His life had turned into a total mess. He had a wife who bored him to tears, and a girl friend whom he was just as quickly getting to the same point with, but-no matter what-that's the way it was, and somehow he would just have to make the best of it.
Beside which, Vicki had a way of making him forget his problems when he was with her. No matter how much it confused his life, she did play a very important role in his life.
Chuck Randel felt his cock coming to life thinking about Vicki. She could do some crazy things in bed. Things that his wife would never think of doing. Things that turned him on in a way that he could never hope for with his wife. But still, there was that nagging guilt that was always there in the back of his mind.
Even though he knew it was wrong, he couldn't do anything about it. Not now, anyway. He needed what Vicki could give him. There was no question that she could satisfy the need that he had for a woman who was free.
His cock jumped inside his pants as he thought about what Vicki had done to him the day before. He closed his eyes and almost could feel the warm wetness as her mouth massaged the entire length of his cock. He didn't think that it was possible for a woman to take a cock with such ease. Even though his cock was thick and long, Vicki had no trouble taking it all into her throat.
There was no doubt in his mind that the knock at the door was Vicki. After she came in and the formalities were attended to, she smiled and stammered for words.
Chuck leaned back comfortably in his leather chair and decided to toy with her for a few minutes. It was an old game, but he still enjoyed it. It made him feel good to know that Vicki was frantic to fuck him-that the mere sight of him reduced her to a mass of uncontrollable urgency. And the view of that hunger now was making him come alive again.
"Would you like to go out to dinner with me?" he asked, knowing very well what she'd like to do.
"That would be very nice," she answered in a tone of forced complacency. "Anything you want."
"Anything?" He smiled lasciviously, and watched her squirm with embarrassment.
"You know what I mean." Her voice was soft, ashamed-her big, brown eyes focused on the floor.
"Close the door," he ordered.
Vicki obeyed without a word.
"Now come over here." He watched her return to the front of his desk. "No, over here." He patted his knee.
Vicki chewed on her lower lip as she walked around to him. Her nervousness was apparent.
And Chuck loved the sight of it. "Sit down!" He rolled his chair back and waited for her to descend to his lap.
"Are you sure nobody will come in here?" Her knuckles turned white as she clutched her fingers even tighter over her pocketbook.
Chuck removed the bag from her grasp. "Do you care?" he teased. "I mean, if you do, we can just forget the whole thing."
"No, no-I didn't mean it like that." Vicki looked like she might cry. "I just wouldn't want us to be embarrassed."
Chuck nodded, knowing that he was about to crush the last of her free will. Very slowly, so that she could feel his intensity, he glanced down along the line of her green suit, hesitating where the material pulled tight over her thighs. Then he suddenly plunged his hand up into the softness of her cunt beneath her skirt.
Vicki gasped and leaned back, making room for him to explore higher over her flesh. Her breathing became shallow and rapid.
"Still worried about somebody walking in?" he drawled, watching her face contort with pleasure as he squeezed into the dampness of her already wet cunt.
Vicki shook her head no, and kept her eyes closed. Tiny beads of perspiration dotted her brow, despite the fact that the air-conditioner was going full blast. The tendons in her neck stood out and her white skin grew taut as she strained to prolong each moment of her body's delight.
The effort made her look older than her thirty-eight years.
Chuck turned away and withdrew his hand. "Maybe you're right," he heard himself saying. "Somebody could walk in here. We really shouldn't fool around." He patted her ass, telling her without words to get off his lap.
Vicki's eyes blinked open, and the color drained from her face. She stood up. "Would you like to go to my apartment?" She touched her fingers to the edge of her rumpled hairdo.
"I haven't got time." His words were clipped and impersonal. He wanted her to get out of there. She'd suddenly become the personification of what was bothering him.
"Is something wrong?" she whined. "I mean-did I do anything?"
"No, it's not you." Chuck got up and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "Let's face it, Vicki. We're not kids any more. We shouldn't be carrying on like this."
He didn't know if that would make sense to her, but it made painful, horrible sense to him. There it was, all in an instant-The revelation of what had been eating him up these past months.
He was afraid of getting old.
"What does age have to do with anything?" Vicki begged, as she smoothed her skirt and followed him to the window. "You don't have to be in college to-to screw each other." She said the words as if they were some kind of holy vow.
Chuck didn't answer. For a moment, his thoughts drifted back to the days when he and Vicki had gone to school together-to the days when he was still the master of his own life.
She was a good time then, he remembered. And a safe bet, too. Always around. Always willing. Nobody else wanted the spectacled little girl with the straight A average. Half the guys on campus were afraid of her brains. The other half wouldn't look at her.
But not Chuck. He was more than glad to sneak off with her to that little room behind the library-the room with the lock. And there they did everything, without anybody ever finding out.
It had been a perfect set-up. Nobody knew about it and he sure as hell wasn't about to open his mouth. Not with all those other girls around-the girls with money-the girls with influential families who could assure him a soft life once he nailed one of their daughters; girls who would fall for a smooth line and a strong, silent come on-
Girls like his wife.
He heard Vicki rambling on behind him about something, but Chuck didn't listen.
They'd all changed since the good old days, he thought. His wife Mary, himself, and perhaps Vicki most of all-Vicki, the kid with the fabulous mind.
Now that mind had been twisted and choked off by the demands of an insatiable pussy and the horror of never having caught a husband of her own.
"-Do you understand what I mean?" she concluded.
Chuck turned around and smiled kindly. He nodded, even though he hadn't heard a word she'd said. He didn't have to hear. He knew what she wanted.
Without speaking, he pulled her tight up against him and crushed her mouth beneath his own. He felt her quivering in his embrace and he wished he could rekindle the excitement that had fizzled out so quickly in the chair.
Her hand lowered to his belt. "Remember that little room behind the library?" Vicki whispered.
He knew she was using that memory as a final device to arouse him-and it worked.
"Lock the door," he whispered hoarsely, as an image of many years ago returned to his mind with amazing clarity.
Vicki hurried across the room and returned a moment later, grinning broadly. "We had fun then, didn't we?" she whispered, leaning back up against his chest.
Chuck slid his hands up along her sides and stroked her breasts softly. The difference in her body now was unpleasantly evident to the touch. But the memory of what she had done to him that first time-and what he would make her do to him today-set him trembling with desire.
He took her hand and placed it between their bodies. "You know what I want," he said.
She nodded and sighed, as her fingers began to move knowingly, straight to his cock.
Chuck opened the front of her white blouse and slid it off, along with her jacket. The white freckled skin at the tops of her breasts rose and fell, inviting him to reach down and expose them completely.
He fought with the hooks on her brassiere until the last one was opened. And then he captured a rigid point of flesh between his lips and listened to the sound of her soft moaning.
When he figured she was sufficiently aroused, Chuck placed his hands on Vicki's shoulders and pressed down hard. She seemed to hesitate for a moment. But then the resistance disappeared and she sank slowly down, where she immediately sucked his cock into the warm cavern of her mouth.
The room spun and the blood coursed furiously through his veins with each passing minute of wild contact. Chuck buried his fingers in her short hair, and pressed his dick even further into her open mouth. His knees felt weak, but he forced himself to remain upright as the end approached.
Then suddenly she was no longer there.
"What's wrong, baby?" He could hardly speak. The words came out cracked and dry.
"Please-" Vicki was breathing heavily-"Lie down here-with me-"
Chuck nodded dully and sank to the floor beside her. He would have argued with her, forced her to continue sucking him off, but the need to be rid of the violent tension within him forced him to take the quickest means to that end, even if it meant fucking her.
He hiked her skirt up over her thighs and tore at the tops of her stockings. A moment later they were off, and he was tugging down the lace-rimmed panties that clung to her hips.
She lay exposed and vulnerable before him, her cunt a sodden mess. Chuck clasped his fingers around her flesh and made her cry out with delight.
"Kiss me, Chuck," she said. "Please kiss me-"
But he wouldn't listen any more. His cock was churning with the need for release, and his instincts directed him to move quickly.
He grabbed her and fucked her roughly, panting and cursing as the moment of fulfillment drew closer.
He heard her begging him to be gentle, but he didn't care. To hell with her and everything else but the approaching moment, he thought-the moment when he would be calm again, and in complete control, the moment when he would blow his wad.
When that moment came, he threw himself down on top of her writhing, trembling body. Pounding into her hole with his cock, he propelled himself through the tortuous chase of turbulent completion-every muscle, every sinew in his body straining to the breaking point-
She started to shudder and sob beneath him.
Chuck hastened their rhythm, aware suddenly that he must make her come in order to be rid of her.
Her warm, liquid flesh seemed to engulf him and draw him closer to the core of her pathetic craving. Without realizing it, Chuck found himself hurrying to catch up again, fighting to achieve another white-hot moment of wonderful orgasm-
And when it happened again, it was for both of them.
He got up as soon as he could disentangle his prick from her dripping pussy, and adjusted his clothing. "You'd better get dressed. It's getting late." He knew his voice was like ice, but he couldn't help it. And so what, he thought. She'd got what she wanted. The idiot couldn't possibly expect him to get romantic, at this stage of the game.
Vicki dressed herself without a word. Her features seemed lengthened and tired from the ordeal of living. "You mind if I use your bathroom?" She attempted a polite smile, before reaching for a comb.
Chuck just shrugged. He didn't give a damn what she did. As long as she got out of his sight.
For suddenly this woman's presence made him feel as if he had one foot in the grave.
And worse than that, he knew he had to go home now to Mary, the woman to whom he'd sold himself, when he was young.
CHAPTER TWO
Mary slid in behind the bar and fixed herself a scotch and soda. She could begin to feel those little fingers of passion playing with the tips of her breasts and darting up and down her legs. She was looking forward to the time Chuck would get home and end the longing that she felt.
It was a very natural feeling that she was experiencing; maybe it had to do with women's lib or something, but she felt much more at ease starting the lovemaking. She'd even allowed herself to think about certain things that she would never have considered before. But now she thought maybe she could begin to do more to turn Chuck on. Do some of the things that he used to try to get her to do. Suddenly, she felt a chill run down her back. What if he didn't want her any more. What if he weren't interested. Her life would be over. Maybe she should have an affair, maybe with someone younger than Chuck, someone who could make her feel young again.
All of that being what it was, there was no question, she was hooked and she knew it. Life wouldn't seem worth living without Chuck. He'd been an absolute necessity for so many years, since the first moment she'd laid eyes on him. And, like every other toy she'd ever wanted, her father had bought this one for her, too-the best she ever had.
A throbbing agreement along the undersides of her breasts assured her that she was right. Smiling again, and with regal bearing, Mary walked across the room and nodded pleasantly toward the maid.
"Dinner's almost ready, ma'am," the young girl said.
"I think Mr. Randel would enjoy being served on the terrace," Mary said, as a sudden inspiration lifted her spirits and brought lovely, romantic images of long ago to mind. "I'll call you when we're ready."
"Shall I mix cocktails?"
"No, thank you, I already have one." She smiled. "You can fill a tub for me, though, and lay out my mauve hostess gown."
The maid nodded and disappeared on swift, soundless feet.
Mary fell into a huge chair in the high-ceilinged living room and sipped on her drink. A long, hot day of party planning was beginning to take its toll in the form of tired, aching limbs. What she needed was one drink, she told herself. And then, a nice bath-a quiet, delicious dinner with Chuck, a soft, tender mood, and a good, long fucking.
She checked her thoughts automatically at that point. For as long as she could remember, sex had been a taboo subject where she was concerned. As a child, she'd never been allowed to mention it. As an adult, Chuck had taught her not to question or to demand, but to just accept, gratefully, whatever attentions he chose to give her.
An old anger bubbled its way up to the surface of her brain. Mary poured herself a double shot of apricot brandy and tried to hold on to a good mood. Maybe tonight would be different, she encouraged herself. Maybe the reasons for Chuck's neglect were not those she imagined. Maybe she wasn't really undesirable and uninteresting as a lover-May be something was wrong with Chuck. It was a perversely comforting thought, but try as she might, Mary couldn't bring herself to really believe it. Chuck was all but ignoring her, and the fault had to be hers. Something was wrong with her. She just didn't seem to excite him, any more. It felt hopeless.
No, she screamed silently above the pain of a churning mind. It wasn't hopeless. She couldn't live with that thought. There had to be something left that she could do-some little device that would make Chuck sit up and take notice of the fact that she was still an attractive woman-a woman who needed love-a woman who could give pleasure-if he'd only let her.
The brandy spread tiny fingers of warmth all the way down to her stomach. Mary took a deep breath and reached for the silver cigarette box on the mantelpiece. There was no point in depressing herself further with useless thoughts, she decided. Actions were far more important in this situation. And without a doubt, the time to act was now.
Tonight, she had to seduce her husband. The full-length mirror in the bedroom caught her eye and beckoned her closer.
Stepping slowly and hesitantly across the thick blue rug, Mary stared back at her reflection with what she hoped was objective detachment.
The picture she saw before her was still attractive, she decided. At thirty-seven years of age, her skin remained smooth, and her forehead practically unwrinkled. Of course, she spent a fortune on cosmetics, but the investment was worth every penny. Soft, chestnut-colored hair glowed in the afternoon light, and sparkling brown eyes hinted of the eagerness and desire within her. And despite the years, Mary told herself, her face did not look old.
And neither did her body, she added silently. Middle age had not distorted her figure to undesirable proportions. Full, high breasts and a respectable waistline were still hers. She was far from being over the hill. There was plenty of life left in Mary Randel. Anyone who cared to look could see that. Easily.
Except Chuck.
The cigarette in the crystal ashtray burned unnoticed as she stripped down to her underwear and returned to take further inventory of the other good features at her disposal. Smooth, tanned skin on shapely legs made her smile sentimentally. He used to flatter her about her legs, Mary remembered. And especially that night, on their honeymoon, when he'd brushed his fingers up slowly, lovingly over her bare knees and-stopped at her cunt.
A nagging, taunting hunger compelled her to turn from her own image and distract herself with the details of a bath. Mary stepped into the adjoining room and nodded absently at the tub of steaming, scented water which the maid had prepared. If only she could soak away that burning, down deep in her pussy, she wished. If only the maddening need that forced her to compromise her principles could disappear and she could be free-But even as she thought it, Mary knew such ideas were preposterous. For even though it didn't happen often, the ecstasy that Chuck could bring to her more than compensated for the unhappiness. And for as long as she'd be able to remember what the last time was like, Mary knew she'd be right there, waiting for Chuck-waiting for the next time he was in the mood to fuck her.
Mary took a last sip of coffee and tried not to pout. Sneaking a glance over the rim of her cup, she discovered Chuck in the same position he'd held for the last ten minutes-staring out past the terrace railing, thinking his own private thoughts, just as if he were alone at that table.
It wasn't going to happen tonight. She just knew it. All the effort and the planning had been for nothing.
He'd kissed her when he walked through the door, she remembered. But now she knew that kiss was just a courtesy-a meaningless gesture.
He hadn't noticed her gown either, she added, as the fury rose inside of her. The forty-dollar-an-ounce perfume she wore hadn't reached him. And her attempts at conversation had brought practically no response. She might as well have gone out for the evening, for all he cared.
The hurt suddenly became a challenge-a challenge that Mary decided to accept. Chuck's detachment had lasted long enough, she told herself decisively. She was his wife and it was only reasonable to expect him to want her-to fuck her-to need her. Business pressures notwithstanding, he had a duty to perform as a husband. And she'd be damned if Chuck was going to get away with that blase attitude for one more night.
"How about a brandy in the living room?" she suggested, in her sweetest voice. The tone was phony, she knew, but she had to say something to reopen the channels of communication between them.
"No thanks. I don't think so." Chuck shook his head and sighed.
"Oh, come on." Mary forced herself to ignore his lack of instant enthusiasm. She couldn't very well start humping him out there on the terrace, she knew. But once she got him inside, he wasn't going to get a chance to think-about anything else but her. "One brandy?"
No answer.
"Another drink might be relaxing for you," she continued anyway. "Besides, I'd like one-and not alone."
Her words seemed to make their point. Chuck turned around and nodded, patronizingly. "All right, but only one," he said, getting up from his chair. "I think I'm going to turn in early tonight."
"That's not a bad idea at all." Mary felt encouraged as they walked back into the house together. The sooner she could get him up to that bedroom, the happier she'd be. Any excuse was good enough. "We'll both be up late tomorrow night at the party. A little extra sleep wouldn't hurt me, either."
Chuck acted as if he hadn't heard her. He walked stiffly to the liquor cabinet and poured two snifters, half full of brandy.
"Tell me, Chuck-is something wrong?"
Mary asked, as she accepted her glass.
"No, why?" He smiled defensively and sat down beside her on the sofa.
She arranged another smile and raised her drink toward him in a silent toast. "You seem so distant lately," she said, after she'd taken a sip. "Almost as if you'd rather be someplace else."
He didn't answer, but she saw his expression change fleetingly to one that almost resembled fear. "Of course, it might just be me," she added quickly, afraid of creating any more tension between them. "With all the arrangements for the benefit, and running from one place to another-"
"No, don't blame yourself," he interrupted. "I just feel a little worn out lately. A good rest will cure me."
He lifted his glass and Mary knew what he was trying to tell her. No dice. Not tonight, dear. You'll have to wait.
She drank her brandy too quickly as the last of her patience disappeared. There was no sense in prolonging the agony, she told herself. Mission not accomplished. All she could do now was pick up what little was left of her pride and go to bed before he did. Sleep, of course, was another story.
She lay between the cool sheets, listening to the sound of the shower spray and thinking how nice it would be to kill him. No person had the right to torture another like that, she told herself over and over again. If she had half an ounce of sense, she'd pack up and tell him what to do with his tired bones.
But then, Chuck walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist-and Mary stopped being angry. In the shadows, the muscle of his cock took on a clean, precise definition.
And her cunt responded instantly and violently with the need to be satisfied with it.
"You about ready for bed?" she whispered, knowing she was leading with her chin, but unable to help herself.
"Soon." Chuck didn't bother to face her when he answered. "I was thinking about sitting downstairs for a while."
"Alone?" Mary bolted to a sitting position in the bed. "I thought you wanted to go to sleep."
The icy silence told her that Chuck wished she'd shut up and mind her own business. But Mary couldn't shut up. She wanted him too badly. Her cunt was on fire and she felt as if she might explode from the need to be fucked-to feel wanted again.
"Do I at least get a kiss goodnight?" she asked, in a little girl voice as a last resort to bring him close to her.
Chuck walked slowly across the room and leaned over the bed. "Don't worry about me. I'll probably just read for a while," he said.
But Mary wasn't listening. The only thing she was aware of was that his lips were coming closer to hers-and that in a few seconds she would be able to reach out and touch what it was that she wanted so badly.
Chuck bent down to brush her lips with his own, but Mary's arms went up and twisted around his neck. "Come on, honey," Mary whispered against his lips, "come to bed now darling." Her hand began to roam freely up the outside of his thigh, slowly up the muscles in his leg, moving slowly inward toward his cock.
Suddenly, Mary felt Chuck's hand on her own, stopping her from going any further. Mary felt the color rushing to her face. But stronger than the embarrassment that she felt, was the need to be fulfilled.
But she couldn't allow herself to push her pride aside: her hands stopped their wandering.
Mary quickly jumped to her feet and composed herself. .
Without saying a word to him she grabbed her cigarettes and ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
If it was the last thing that she ever did, she'd get even with him. No man was going to treat her like that and get away with it.
CHAPTER THREE
"Two dozen orchids," he muttered under his breath. At six bucks a throw, retail. One hundred and forty-four possible dollars, tossed into the garbage bin-because that hair-brained wife of his couldn't remember to put the damned things in the cooler before she closed the shop.
And now he'd have to order more of the same, rushed over in time to set up for Mrs.
Randel's party tomorrow night. And pay the hot-house out of his own pocket. Cash, because his credit stank. Money he sure as hell couldn't afford to lay out.
Especially with Barbara's beauty parlor bills.
Where the hell was she anyhow, he wondered, glancing up at the clock, above the display of brass wall-planters. Barbara had taken the wagon out on deliveries almost two hours ago. Was it too much to expect her to locate six houses within a one-mile radius of the store? Was it too much to expect anything from her that remotely resembled intelligence? Or wasn't she capable of doing anything good-outside of a good fuck?
David suddenly felt his attitude softening despite the spoiled orchids. Maybe he wasn't being fair to the kid, he thought. No sense in putting down that big talent of hers, just because she hadn't had much experience in developing it. Some people just had a natural aptitude. And he was, after all, the one who was getting the benefits of all she knew. There was no doubt about it. For a nineteen year old girl, who was a virgin on her wedding night, she was one helluva good lay.
What kind of way was that for a guy to think about his wife anyhow, David asked himself. Even if it were true. They'd only been married six months. What had happened to that big crush-that crazy, "got to have her now" kind of lust that made him count the days till he got out of the army-that made him forget how broke he was and rush her up to that altar?
The answer was simple. That altar was a necessary step-the only way of getting what he really wanted-her snatch. And now that he'd had that, the rest of her was coming into view for the first time. And David didn't like what he was seeing.
Not that she was bad to look at-he purposely returned to encouraging "thoughts. Hell no! Even now, alone in the shop, he felt a familiar twitching in his dick, as he thought about her-those tight sweaters that used to drive him out of his mind-those round, jutting breasts that ended in sharp points which flattened so quickly in his palms-and the way her slacks clung to her ass for dear life.
Time for other thoughts. David admonished himself against letting sex interfere with work, and lit a cigarette. No question but that there was plenty to keep him hopping before he could close up shop for the day. Five lush centerpieces still had to be put together for Mrs. Randel's buffet tables-three topiaries for her entrance hall-and, of course, those damned orchids for the corsages.
He shook his head in tired resignation as he walked to the phone to call the hot-house. Again, the question that had popped into his head so often, lately-How had he gotten himself into this? And again the answer-Because he'd married a dame who was all body and no brains. But what a body! And again, he was forced to admit that he had few regrets.
He was just placing a white gladiola in an arrangement when the front door of the shop flew open and slammed back against the wall with a resounding crash. David didn't have to look up to know who was there. "Hi, Barbara." His tone was surprisingly cool, even to himself.
"Geezuz, what an afternoon this is turning out to be." She closed the door with the heel of one tennis sneaker, and another crash. "Seems like a girl can't even deliver some flowers these days without taking her life in her hands."
His glance flew fearfully from his arrangement to his wife. The sight of her, still unbruised and beautiful, assured him that his immediate reaction had been wrong. "For a moment there, I thought you'd had some trouble on the road." He felt foolish, then, and wished he hadn't exposed his naivete. And Barbara's amused expression didn't help any.
"No, not that kind of trouble," she said, sounding half pleased and half annoyed. "A flat tire would be a relief, compared to some of the people I've had to deal with." She struck a thoughtful pose. "Tell me, David, does every guy think a girl is on the make, just because she doesn't dress in a laundry bag?"
He felt the shit rise through his insides, but forced his attention back to the flowers. The thought of another guy making a pass at Barbara was enough to mess up his entire day. And worse than that, he was sure she knew exactly what she was doing every time she climbed into one of her skin-tight outfits.
"Maybe if you'd be a little less-cordial, with the customers-" He knew the attempt at subtlety had fallen flat.
"What the hell kind of a thing is that to say?" Barbara's huge eyes opened even wider, in electric-blue fury. "You talk like I'm inviting every guy to make a pass." She stood, stone-still and glaring-daring him to make another criticism.
He realized the only way to preserve peace was to shut up, and so he did. When he spoke again, his voice was calm and controlled. "I had to throw out a whole box of orchids, you know."
"Why?" Barbara leaned over to pluck a dead leaf from a philodendron plant.
And David knew she was setting up the view purposely to disarm him. He swallowed hard and averted his eyes from the outline of her lips. "Because you forgot to put them in the cooler." His face colored and he was glad she wasn't looking at him. "I've ordered more."
When she turned around to face him, it was almost as if another person had taken her place. "I'm sorry, David," she cooed, flashing that million-dollar smile that belonged to her alone. "I was just so anxious to get home."
Again he felt the blood surge up across his cheeks, as he remembered what they'd done last night at home. "Pull some pompoms out of the cooler, will you?" he asked, desperate to be rid of the sight of her, so that he could calm down. It would be so easy to just lock the door and drag her into the back room-to pull off those tight slacks and work his hands over the soft white flesh that lay beneath-to pin her down under the weight of his own body and fuck the stuffing out of her.
"These all right?" She returned, carrying a bunch of flowers in her soft white hands-the wrong flowers.
She was testing him again. He could tell. His annoyance had gotten through to her, despite her attempt at righteousness. And, like the child she was, she had to be assured that everything was all right now.
David allowed his fingers to linger around hers for a long moment before taking the flowers. "They'll do fine, honey." His words sounded sincere, and he was glad. He looked quickly away from her breasts, realizing all of a sudden that she was using her body to change the atmosphere between them.
The ringing of the telephone saved him.
David banged down the receiver and ran his fingers through his short black hair in a gesture of complete exasperation.
"What's the matter?" Barbara propped herself up against the counter and toyed with a sprig of laurel.
"That was the hot-house. They can't deliver the orchids today. It's too late. I'll have to go over and pick them up myself."
"It'll only take half an hour," she said, winking, "unless you want me to go."
"No thanks, I'll get them." David smiled, knowing she might be gone for another two hours if he said yes. "Just stick around the store and don't get into any trouble, okay?"
A smile, wise beyond her years, spread across Barbara's face. She quickly closed the distance between them. "What kind of trouble did you have in mind?" She looked up at him in pretended innocence and batted her long, black eyelashes.
David ran his tongue over his parched lips and stepped backward in an effort to protect himself from her. "You know damned well what I mean." He tried to keep his eyes away from her blouse, and his manner aloof-but both were impossible.
The sweet perfume floated up from her hair and played havoc with his nerves. An evil, knowing little grin appeared around her ripe pink lips, to tell him exactly what she was thinking-exactly what she was waiting for him to do. Each breath she took seemed to b"e deeper, raising her breasts toward him and then retreating-daring David to resist her-mocking his futile efforts to keep his mind on business.
He gave up and grabbed her by the hand. "You're a little monster-you know that, don't you?" He led her roughly toward the back room.
"David Frederick Ashley, whatever do you mean?" Her ingenuous inflection scarcely concealed the giggle beneath it.
David turned her around and pulled her into his arms. The softness of her young body seemed to melt into the hardness of his own, as he crushed his mouth down upon hers and buried his fingers in the rich pliancy of her thighs.
She squirmed, and he drove his tongue deep into her mouth, cutting off anything she might have tried to say. The game had been played long enough, and even though he had lost, he had won. Now she was going to learn what happens when a little girl plays with fire.
Long, thin fingers jabbed between his ribs. David jumped away and laughed, without mirth. "What the hell did you tickle me for?" He could hardly catch his breath.
"You have a box of orchids to pick up, remember?" She raised an imperious eyebrow, as if to shatter any illusions he might have had about taming her.
David conceded his defeat silently and stomped out of the room. "Remind me to forget that I love you," he snapped, as he pulled some money out of the cash register.
"Oh, come on now-don't be that way." Barbara walked out after him. "If I didn't stop you, we both might have gotten carried away."
"What do you mean both?" He whirled to face her. "Didn't you feel anything back there? Or is this all just one big lark for you?"
She diddled up close and smiled liquidly. "Of course, darling. But one of us has to be sensible, right?"
David snorted and walked away from her. "We'll talk about that later," he said, reaching for the handle on the front door.
"You finish your work, and later we can do a lot more than talk."
The implication in her words reversed his mood. David smiled and then hurried from the sight of her. If only he could stay angry long enough to scare that girl, he thought. But then, he decided that there were other things that he'd much rather do to her.
And he would do them. All of them. Just as soon as he deposited those fresh orchids in the cooler. Today, there would be no more Work-
At least not on the flowers.
Barbara waited until she saw the wagon turn the corner before she hurried into the back room. Slowly, timidly, she peered into the garbage bin and then turned quickly from the depressing truth. She'd half hoped that David had been wrong. But there was no doubt about it now. She'd left those orchids out overnight.
A wistful sadness descended upon her as she thought back to the previous evening. David had to go over to Mrs. Randel's house to make final preparations for decorating her party. When he'd asked Barbara to close up the shop, she had agreed immediately, despite her own fears. That was the first time he'd ever allowed her any real responsibility around the store. And so she'd concealed her nervousness and assured him that she could attend to everything.
David had believed in her. He had depended on her. And she had failed him and herself.
As usual.
The heat of summer became acutely oppressive as Barbara sulked back into the front room. A strong, growing distress made her itchy to move. She wasn't in the mood to remain in the store for the afternoon. She wanted to run-to fly out of that leafy prison and never feel like a failure again-to escape her mistakes forever.
A dry, bitter laugh grated past her pretty lips as she recognized the futility of her instincts. She'd tried to escape once before, she reminded herself-from another situation that had made her feel like she would die unless she got away-from another prison that had made her life unbearable and the future look black-from her home.
And she'd planned it so carefully, too. David had seemed to be the answer to all her problems once. As soon as she'd met him, she'd begun to prepare for the day when he'd take her out of that rat-hole dump in Manhattan-away from a life of counting pennies-and listening to the neighbors fighting-and running home at night, terrified, for fear of being grabbed and dragged behind some dark staircase.
And so she'd done everything to make him want her. She'd listened to his boring conversations and agreed with him, even when she had no idea what he was talking about. She'd flattered him and made him feel like he was the most desirable guy in the world. And, most important of all, she'd resisted him-she'd given him just enough to keep him panting for her-but she'd let him know that the only way to her pussy was to put a ring on her finger, first. She'd remained one step ahead of him, always.
It had been easy then-because she didn't love him.
And the plot had worked. As soon as he'd left the army, he'd married her. She'd gotten what she wanted. Manhattan was far behind her. She now lived in a small, but sunny, Long Island garden apartment. David had a business that was mortgaged, but kept them going. According to her old standards, she should be happy.
But she wasn't.
She gnawed absently on a polished fingernail and walked over to the plate glass window. No, she wasn't happy at all, Barbara repeated inwardly. And she knew just why.
When she was using herself as bait, David did all the talking and she did all the listening-and it didn't matter. The fact that they really didn't understand each other wasn't important to her. For in those days if his interest threatened to wane, she could always use the old standby to perk him up-the promise of sex.
But now, that wasn't enough. At least not for her. Now she wanted more from marriage than a new last name. She wanted to be able to reach him, deep down-to speak his language-to be his friend as well as his lover.
But she didn't know where to begin. At first she'd thought they'd be able to communicate in bed and expand together, from there. But that turned out to be the greatest disappointment of all. Barbara knew that David was holding back on her.
The feeling wasn't just a figment of her childish imagination either, she assured herself, sadly. A girl didn't have to fuck around to find out the various possibilities with a man in bed. Especially not in the neighborhood where she grew up.
Since she was fourteen, her more daring friends had bragged about their adventures with boys-about all the glorious, exciting variations that were possible on that central theme. And by the time she and David had made it legal, Barbara was ready to try everything she'd ever heard about.
But David wouldn't let her. He treated her body almost as if he were afraid of it. Not that he was unexciting between the sheets, at first, she remembered. But very soon she found out that their love life was to consist of only the bare essentials, and nothing more. The limits were very clearly defined by David's actions-or, more precisely, by his lack of action. He always treated her as if she were made out of glass.
And now, after only six months, everything about his lovemaking had become predictable. Barbara knew exactly what he was going to do-and when. And most painful of all, she knew exactly what he wasn't going to do-probably ever.
And there was the basis of her misery, she concluded, as she walked back across the empty store. Sex with David had turned out to be more frustrating than no sex at all-just like the rest of their unfulfilling relationship. Sometimes, she even felt she'd be better off without him.
And that's why she'd stopped him in the back room.
A half-finished centerpiece caught her eye. Barbara recognized the beginnings of a twenty-five dollar arrangement and knew it had to be for Mrs. Randel's party tomorrow night.
One hundred dollars a plate, she thought, enviously. Even though all the money went to charity, it sure was a helluva lot of loot to drop for one evening's entertainment. Wouldn't it be nice if she were in that financial bracket?
The impossibility of such personal wealth made her laugh out loud. Not too long ago, she remembered feeling grateful for a roof over her head. And now, she was picturing herself in an evening gown and diamonds. How ridiculous could a girl get, Barbara wondered, pushing the image from her mind.
For a moment she thought about finishing that arrangement and surprising David when he got back from the hot-house. But the idea was rejected almost as soon as it had appeared. She'd upset him enough for one day, she decided. To ruin a big arrangement might just shatter what little was left of his patience with her.
Besides, if she knew David, he wasn't going to be thinking about flowers when he got back anyway. Not a chance, she figured, remembering the hurt and anger on his face when she poked him in the ribs.
Unless he'd changed drastically in the last half hour, he was going to want her-the first moment he could get her alone. She had turned him down and now he'd have to prove to himself that he was still boss. And if she wanted to hold on to him, Barbara knew she'd better damned well let him have his way.
Twenty minutes later when David came jogging into the shop, Barbara was sure she'd been right.
"Hi, kitten!" He greeted her with a big smile and a quick peek down the front of her blouse.
"I see you got your orchids all right." Barbara pretended not to be clued in to what he was after. At least David still needed her for something, she consoled herself.
"I've had enough work for a while," he called from the back room as he opened the cooler door. "How about closing up shop for an hour and going home for supper?"
Supper, my foot! Barbara suppressed a snicker and wondered if he really thought he was fooling her for one second. "Love to." She went along with his game anyway. "But are you sure you have time-with all those corsages to make?" . s
"I'll take care of them later." He slammed the heavy door shut and sauntered back out to her. "Well, what do you say-is it a date?"
"Sure, why not?" Barbara shrugged. It would be a pleasure to get out of that hot store for a while, anyway. Not that the apartment would be any cooler. But maybe, this time-She cut herself off in the middle of the thought. This time would be the same as every other time, she knew. But at least David would feel good when it was over. And that was certainly enough reason for her to go through with the pretense once more, and make believe she was being completely satisfied.
There was a breeze in the apartment, but it was a hot one. Barbara heard David close the door behind them, and wondered if she ought to go through the motions of making supper. She decided against it immediately. It was too warm to do anything, let alone unnecessary things.
"Murderous weather, isn't it?" David's tone was a trifle strained.
Barbara smiled to herself, glad that she wasn't facing him. Then she decided to get the inevitable over with as soon as possible. "I think I'd like to hop into a shower, if you don't mind," she said. "I won't be long."
"Go right ahead," he agreed immediately. "I'm in no particular hurry."
Relieved, Barbara headed back to the bedroom. Now she had a superficial excuse to do what she'd have to do anyhow-take off her clothes. She knew she'd never get to that shower, but that was all right, too. Once David satisfied himself with her, he'd start thinking about work again. And then her evening would be her own.
The thin white blouse was beginning to feel sticky, and Barbara was glad to be rid of it. Standing with her back to the bedroom door, she reached for the button on the side of her slacks. She knew he was watching her from the living room, and so she purposely took her time about undressing-making every movement count-positioning herself as if by coincidence, so that he could observe her at the most provocative angles.
When she was down to only her bra and panties, she heard his footsteps and wondered what the spoken excuse would be.
"I think I'll lie down for a while," David announced, as if that were his only motive for coming into the room.
Barbara saw his eyes travel over her scantily concealed body and decided it was time to go into action and help things along. "Would you unhook me please?" she asked.
David stepped quickly up behind her and unfastened the clasps on her bra. Soft young breasts tumbled free of their lacy confinement and fell into full view.
She let the brassiere slide soundlessly toward the floor and remained absolutely still-waiting. David's breath was hot and moist above her ear, and Barbara knew that in a moment, his hands would begin to travel towards her cunt.
Damp palms cupped the tender mounds of creamy flesh while trembling fingers toyed with the pink buds of her nipples. Barbara closed her eyes and leaned back contentedly. She felt David's body tense at the contact, and despite her better judgment, she surrendered to the arousal growing within her.
Quick, tingling pinpoints of excitement played across her naked flesh as David pressed his lips to the curve of her shoulder and kissed his way up the side of her neck. Without having to think about what she was doing, she began to move her hips, very slowly, back and forth across the front of his body-knowing exactly how that would affect him.
He gasped as his cock hardened, and reached down to caress the softness of her smooth belly. Barbara sucked in her breath, aware that he'd next reach for the top of her panties-and drive her wild.
His hand clutched the thin elastic hem and drew it away from her swaying hips. Barbara pressed herself to him again-harder this time-begging him, without words, to make it good for her-if only this once.
And then, suddenly, his fingers were touching her exposed cunt, manipulating the sensitive clitoris, and driving her past the point of logic or reason-torturing her beautifully-teasing her wonderfully-driving her mad with the need to be free with his body too.
As if he'd read her thoughts, David withdrew his touch and walked over to the side of the bed. Barbara watched him, as he began to take off his clothes automatically-and, all of a sudden, the entire atmosphere became different-and depressing.
She knew there was nothing she could say or do to bring back the ecstasy of a few moments ago. They had reached that point-that horrible, inevitable moment, when David became a machine-and love became a scheduled, ritualized farce. All sense of freedom and abandon was gone.
And so was her excitement.
She moved, dutifully now, to the mattress and turned down the bedding. It was like following a script-an old script. Without a word, she lay down on her back to wait out the final moments before he would come to her and finish the play.
And when he arrived, it was as if she weren't there at all. Barbara lay very still and distant as he kissed her breasts briefly-the way he always did-and stroked her hair softly-the way he always did-and pulled down her panties-the way he always did.
"Who do you love?" he asked brightly.
"You, of course." She gave the proper, usual answer.
"Are you happy?"
"What do you think ? "
"Show me."
There it was. The signal to proceed.
Barbara reached up and brought his face down to hers. Spreading her lips willingly before his kiss, she waited until he'd filled her mouth with his tongue. And then, she made herself ready and guided his hardened dick into her aching pussy.
He fucked her quickly and efficiently. Barbara felt him fighting to remain gentle. She wished that she could tell him that the battle wasn't necessary-that she'd just love for him to ram that rod of his into her so hard she could taste it.
But she'd hinted at that once-and the look she'd gotten for an answer froze her right through to the marrow of her bones. She'd never ask him again or make suggestions, when it came to sex. She knew better. She dug her fingers into the hard broadness of his back when she sensed that he was approaching the end. It was time now, she knew, for her masterpiece of deception. And even though she'd become an expert at it, she felt no pride in the achievement.
"Oh David-David, darling-" she gasped, suddenly, thrusting her hips upward and pressing herself tightly to his straining body, as he plunged into her numb chute once more.
David covered her face with kisses and reached beneath to the cheeks of her ass. She heard him murmuring .endearments, but she couldn't bear to listen. She was lost to him now, she knew. David was so wound up in his own pursuits, that he could never in a million years guess how cold he left her.
He shuddered once, came, and collapsed. Then, after waiting the usual amount of time, he rolled over on to the other side of the bed and sighed deeply-
The final signal, Barbara knew. That was to tell her he was finished-and satisfied. Now, he didn't need her any more. There was nothing else she could do for him.
She got up out of the bed, expecting the depression that usually followed such episodes. But instead, it was anger that filled her. Pure, unadulterated fury. He had no right to forbid her the enjoyment that every woman should have. He had no right to treat her like .a possession-to be used or abused as he saw fit.
The cold shower made her feel clean, but didn't brighten her mood any. Barbara stepped out of the tub and reached for a towel. As she passed the mirror, she caught sight of herself-pale and miserable-looking.
This was not the way she'd planned things at all, she told herself testily. She was young. She should be enjoying all of life's benefits-especially in bed. She'd waited long enough. The waiting should be over.
Maybe that was the answer, she suddenly realized. Remaining a virgin until David gave her nothing to compare him to. Perhaps, if she'd played around a little-No, she argued with herself. What was the sense in that? What would she get out of it, except a couple of hours of fun in some guy's bed?
And suddenly that was enough reason. A couple of hours fun was certainly deserved.
And she was going to make sure she got her due-at the first possible opportunity.
CHAPTER TWO
It was a horrible day.
The sounds of tense voices and hurried activity floated out across the lawn and seemed to taint the fresh air. Chuck took a deep breath and tried to ignore the intrusion of the army of frenzied people that always descended before a big party. like so many bees, he thought distastefully, of the servants and caterers and all the rest-swarming and buzzing around Mary's nest.
And she, undoubtedly, was right in the middle of them all-having herself a grand old time-giving orders, making decisions-showing the world that her husband was only a figurehead-a purchased fixture around the house to be dismissed and ignored until his presence was needed to decorate the phony, party atmosphere.
Still grumbling, he lit a cigarette and wondered if Mary had any idea where he was right then-probably didn't even miss him, he decided-but that was all right. No love lost.
A nagging awareness returned to blot out the beautiful weather. She'd hardly spoken a word to him all morning. That wasn't like Mary, despite the party. And Chuck didn't like it.
Not so much because he missed talking to her. Many was the time when he would have given anything to shut her up. But today, she seemed different. Not like she was just angry, but more like she knew something-or was up to something. Something that had never happened before. Something that didn't include him.
Fear automatically focused his thoughts on money. That was, after all, Mary's saving grace-the beautiful family bankroll, with which she'd set him up in business. Could she be thinking of taking everything away from him now, he wondered. Could she send, him packing, if she took a mind to, without a penny? Just the way he'd come to her, eighteen years ago-broke?
No, that would never happen, Chuck tried desperately to convince himself. Mary still wanted him. One bad night, more or less, couldn't make that much difference to her. He'd turned her off dozens of times before, only to be welcomed back with open arms, when he was in the mood again.
But this time, it wasn't the same. He felt sure of it. And despite the blow to his pride, he had to admit that he was good and scared.
Perhaps, if he fucked her more often-that would be the answer, he told himself. But was it worth the effort? No, never again, he decided. Not just for the money. He was tired of feeling bought. Eighteen years of being owned and obligated was enough. He'd repaid Mary many times over for her investment. She had no right to complain.
But she wasn't complaining, he reminded himself. That was one of the things that was so strange. Not one hint. Not one snide remark about last night. She wasn't saying a word.
A new breeze tickled the leaves in the tree above him. Chuck rolled out of the hammock and set his feet on the soft grass. Mary wouldn't be fool enough to start serious trouble now, he assured himself. Not at her age.
Her age? The hideous truth pounded through his skull and mocked him. He was older than she was.
Damn, there it was again, Chuck realized. The magic word-old. The idea had bugged him all last night. Was he in for another session today, he wondered fearfully. He couldn't go through that again.
His thoughts returned, then, to his little afternoon session with Vicki in the office. Funny, he told himself, that he should have reacted to her with such disgust. It was like being with an old sow. And to think that he used to consider her something of a swinger.
Nothing was right any more.
A blue station wagon bounced into the service driveway and creaked to a stop before the back door of the house. Chuck eyed it for a moment, and then recognized it as belonging to the florist. That little crook was making a fortune on Mary tonight, he decided. No flowers were worth that much money. But what the hell, it wasn't his worry, or his dough. Why should he care what happened to Mary?
He was just about to sink back down into the hammock when something caught his attention, and held it. That something was about five three, blonde, and built like nothing he'd seen in a long time. Chuck strained to get a better look.
He felt slightly ridiculous, tiptoeing across his own lawn. But Chuck couldn't deny the guilt that accompanied his thoughts about that girl. Now there was something that could make him feel better, he knew. Much better.
He judged her to be about twenty, or twenty-one at the outside. The way her slacks fit was not to be believed. And it took a great amount of will power to remain calm at the sight of her bouncing breasts.
She was leaning against the side of the wagon catching a few minutes of sunshine while the florist was in the house. Chuck chuckled as he thought about how great it would be to catch a few minutes of her sometime.
But she'd probably laugh and call him a dirty old man, he realized miserably. Those young ones were always bitchy, that way-unless the price was right.
But still, it couldn't hurt to introduce himself-and to find out if there was a price.
"May I help you, miss?" he called, straightening himself up to his full height and pulling in his stomach. He watched the blonde head whirl in his direction-and a gorgeous smile shook him all the way down to his cock.
"I'm just here on a flower delivery," she said, pleasantly.
"Oh, I see." Chuck fidgeted. She was even more devastating at close range. Her blue eyes seemed to look right through him-and work up every pore of his body. This reaction was ridiculous, he thought. What the hell was going on? He was practically old enough to be her-
"Gorgeous day, don't you think?"
Her silken voice eradicated all his negative thoughts. "Yes, very nice." He resolved to keep the conversation going. "I was just goofing off in that hammock." Chuck pointed across the lawn. He wanted her to know who he was. "This weather is just great for loafing."
"If you can afford it," she said, pointedly.
"Anyone can, if they work at it hard enough," Chuck answered immediately. This little chick was playing games with him. He decided to see how far she would go.
"I'll remember that," she said softly.
Chuck knew that she'd read everything he meant in his words. This girl was on the make. No question about that. "Do you work in that flower shop full time?" he asked, already searching for an excuse to show up there-very soon.
"Till about six, usually." She tilted her face back up toward the sun, revealing a long, sculptured white neck.
Chuck stopped talking, and wondered what it would be like to run his lips over that smooth, inviting flesh-and down into that tempting space beneath those buttons-
"A girl could get a real nice sunburn here." She inhaled deeply and yawned.
Chuck could have sworn that she took that breath on purpose-just to shake him up. "You ought to come out some time and use the pool." He allowed himself a moment of daring.
"Don't tempt me." She grinned with her eyes closed. "I just might arrive in my bikini, one of these afternoons."
Chuck swallowed hard at the thought of that. Then he pictured the look on Mary's face, if it ever happened. He drove the picture quickly away. "Have you ever been swimming out at the Point?" He'd just gotten a marvelous idea.
"Nope. Too expensive. A girl like me can't afford such things."
He wasn't sure whether the poverty pitch was real or not. But Chuck decided that it didn't matter. If money was the way to this girl's heart, he'd be more than glad to indulge her-and himself. "A girl can certainly accept an invitation though, can't she?" He watched the satisfaction register across her young features.
"Do you belong to the club there?" She sounded very impressed.
"Sure do." Chuck felt on safer ground now. "The place needs pretty things like you, though. It's awfully dull."
"You're on." She opened her eyes suddenly, and extended her hand. "My name's Barbara. What's yours?"
"Chuck. He grasped the cool fingers and held on to them as long as he could. And then he felt her stiffen.
"You ready, honey?" The man's voice was barely ten feet away.
Barbara withdrew her hand quickly and touched the edges of her casual hairdo. "I'd like you to meet-David," she said, sounding as if she hated every word.
It was at that moment that Chuck realized the man was her husband. "Glad to meet you, son." He chose the word 'son' purposely to belittle him somewhat.
And it worked.
"Mister Randel just invited us out to the Point sometime for a swim," Barbara announced.
"That's very nice of you, sir," David said. "I don't see how I can ever make it though. The flower shop keeps me pretty busy.".
"I could go though, couldn't I?" Barbara cooed.
And Chuck realized also how shrewd that little girl could be.
"Of course." David smiled. "That is, if it's no imposition-"
"None at all," Chuck cut him off. "Glad to do it."
David started to walk around to the driver's side of the wagon. "Sorry to have to run, but I've got another load of flowers to bring over."
Chuck nodded and then turned back toward Barbara. "Will you be at the shop later this afternoon?" he asked. "I'd like to choose a corsage for my wife." He saw her eyes twinkle with understanding.
"About an hour from now will be fine," she said softly. Then, without another word, she got into the wagon.
Chuck watched until she was out of sight before turning back to the house. He felt great-proud of himself and confident-suave, and foxy as ever.
In an hour he'd be at that shop, all right. With any luck, David would be out someplace. And then he could get to know Barbara better.
He whistled softly as he walked through the huge kitchen. One thing was for sure, though, he realized. Mary would have to wait.
Mary arranged a well-bred smile for the caterer, handed him the seating list and slipped out of the room to take another tranquilizer. Trembling visibly, she hurried toward the air-conditioned sanctuary of her empty bedroom and locked the door securely behind her. At last, a few minutes alone. A few minutes during which she didn't have to wear an ill-fitting mask of poise and composure.
She slipped the little xwhite pill quickly down her throat and wondered how long it would be before it worked-or if it would work at all. This was her third crutch for the day, she reminded herself disapprovingly. The other two doses had done little more than dull her critical senses. Despite the drugs, the problem remained.
The sudden, acute silence made her thoughts seem louder and even more lethal than before. Mary searched the room for something-anything to detour her mind from the destructive course it seemed hell-bent on taking today-Where was Chuck? What was he doing?
And why wasn't she smart enough not to give a damn!
Could he be thinking about last night, she asked herself hopefully. Was he the least bit repentant for hurting her feelings?
Not likely, she had to admit. Chances were he was dozing somewhere out on the grounds, and not thinking at all. Chuck wasn't the type to spend a day off thinking-that was about anything but himself.
A thin, razor-sharp knife of pain slid up the right side of her skull, as if to warn Mary that she was fighting a losing battle-that it was impossible to force herself not to care about Chuck. Sighing tiredly, she walked over to the window and sneered back at the bright sunshine that refused to defer to her gloomy outlook.
The shining blades of blue-green grass looked hand polished in the glare of mid-afternoon. Mary glanced across the wide expanse of lawn from the thick maple trees to the rose-covered trellises, and felt strangely jealous of nature's ability to maintain its dignity, despite the passage of time.
A blue station wagon caught her eye as it rolled into the driveway. That was the florist, she knew. Another few moments and her presence would be required again downstairs. Once more, it would be time for the act. And all the while, her thoughts would be elsewhere.
She was about to turn away from the window when she saw him hurry across the lawn. Chuck was smiling at somebody or something. Strange, the enthusiasm in his step, Mary thought. Un likely that he would interrupt his comfort to meet a delivery wagon. There had to be another reason.
And she had every intention of finding out what that reason was.
She hurried downstairs and found a secluded window that faced out from the back of the house. Now she'd see what was going on and why he was so anxious to get where he was going. But the moment she spotted them talking, Mary wished she hadn't indulged her curiosity.
She couldn't hear what they were saying, but she didn't have to. The looks on their faces, and especially on Chuck's, told the whole story. They were playing that game of contrived phrases and innuendoes-the game for people who don't yet know each other very well-but would certainly like to-the game of two people sizing up each other, possibly for bed.
Mary felt her insides begin to crumble in horrified, hopeless grief. The blonde girl out there was so attractive-and so phony. Every move of hers was calculated-every little smile and gesture planned to create an illusion of allure and availability.
Mary recognized all those little tricks, but the awareness didn't make her feel any better. Chuck's stupid, puppy-dog expression clearly indicated that he saw nothing in the girl except the obvious. He was falling for whatever charming bait she was handing him, hook, line and sinker.
And Mary knew that at that moment she couldn't be farther from Chuck's thoughts. '
"The flowers are here, ma'am." The maid was suddenly beside her.
"I know," Mary snapped. And immediately, she regretted her harsh tone of voice. "I'm sorry," she apologized to the silent, frightened girl. "Today has been something of a strain."
"I understand, ma'am." The maid curtsied briskly, and fled.
Mary squared her shoulders and headed for the living room. That must not happen again, ever, she warned herself seriously. No matter what she felt inwardly, she owed it to herself to maintain an illusion of dignity. At least in public.
The florist was saying something about the difficulty of getting orchids, but Mary didn't listen. All she wanted to do was get rid of him, as quickly as possible-to induce him, politely, of course, to take that blonde away from her house-and away from her husband.
She managed to dismiss him in about ten minutes, with the excuse that he must have the rest of the flowers delivered in an hour. A slight smile played around the edges of her mouth as she watched him leave. Chuck's afternoon flirtation was about to come to an abrupt end.
But somehow, Mary couldn't shake the feeling that this was just a beginning-of something awful.
She was straightening place cards when she heard him rush into the room. Mary tensed, and forced herself not to greet him warmly. She must stick to her guns, she decided. Last night was the last time Chuck would be able to hurt her. From now on, she was going to depend on him for absolutely nothing.
"Hi, sweetheart." He kissed her on the neck and looked over her shoulder. "How's the circus going?"
"Very well, thank you," she answered icily. His use of the word circus proved again just how out of place he was in polite society, despite eighteen years of practice. Her influence hadn't changed him. He was still an outsider to her world. And that hurt.
"The place looks great," he commented. "The affair should be a big success."
"I hope so. It's for a good cause." She heard the tremor in her voice and cursed herself inwardly for being so susceptible to Chuck's presence. She would have liked to brush his hand from where it rested on her shoulder, but she didn't have the courage-or, she had to admit, the will.
Despite her anger with him, the slightest touch of Chuck's flesh against her own was still enough to set her cunt into automatic preparation for love-even though Mary knew how ludicrous it was to even think of that word in terms of Chuck and herself.
"You going to be tied up with this all afternoon?" he asked seriously.
Mary couldn't figure out his motives. "Yes, of course," she said, still unwilling to look directly at him. "Why do you ask?"
"Oh, no reason in particular." He shrugged and walked to the far end of the table.
Mary recognized that coy tone of his. Chuck was playing with her. But she didn't know the name of the game.
Perhaps he'd spotted her looking out the window, she thought. Maybe he was trying to smooth things over and discourage any correct impressions she might have gotten about that young blonde. No dice, Mary promised herself. This time, she wasn't going to make life so easy for him.
"You sure you're going to be that busy now?" he repeated, when the silence between them had grown noticeably lengthy.
Mary felt her patience beginning to ebb. It was difficult enough to set up a large party under the best conditions. She didn't need Chuck's presence, if he was going to wage a war of nerves.
"Is there something you want, Chuck?" She suddenly turned and faced him squarely, eager to rid herself of any further hindrance.
"To be quite blunt-Yes, there is." He seemed honestly shocked at her impersonal tone with him.' "But if you feel like being moody, today-"
"Me, moody!" Mary's tone began to soar above the sounds of the workers in the house. "After the way you've been conducting yourself, you have a lot of nerve to-n
Chuck narrowed his eyes in warning. "Lower your voice, please." He sounded unusually righteous, for him.
Mary turned from the exasperating sight of his absolute composure and took a deep breath. Three tranquilizers and an entire morning's determination hadn't been able to protect her against him. Five minutes with Chuck and she'd lost control again. She felt weak and helpless. And very much of a failure.
"Would you like to go upstairs and talk?" she suggested softly. Anything to get out of that room and away from the people who Were bound to notice her hysteria, if she remained for another minute.
"That sounds like a good idea." Chuck patted her shoulder as he passed and led the way to the bedroom.
Mary walked over to her dressing table and ran a comb nervously through her hair. At the rate she was going, she'd never hold up for the party, she told herself. Life was quickly turning into one big nightmare. And she felt like giving up.
She heard the door close softly. The awareness that they were alone now made her tense in anticipation of the unknown. "I'm sorry I raised my voice downstairs," she said, to make conversation.
"Forget it." Chuck's image grew larger in the mirror as he stepped up behind her. "I know how hectic things can get for you at times like this."
Mary had the distinct sensation that he was conning her, but she didn't want to dwell on it. The softness that had appeared unexpectedly in Chuck's voice was a sound she hadn't heard in a long time. And if he persisted in that manner, she knew it was going to be a struggle to remain detached and objective.
"Would you like a drink?" he asked, curving his palms over the tops of her shoulders.
"No thanks," Mary said, tiredly. "The way I feel, I'd probably fall flat on my face after one swallow."
"We'll see what we can do to make you feel better." He began to massage the flesh at the sides of her neck.
Mary closed her eyes and tried to suppress a violent awakening inside her cunt. Beneath the soft material of her strapless dress, she felt the tips of her breasts rise to tingling life. A warm flood of wanting drifted through her limbs, and she recognized the intense desire to surround Chuck with herself, and draw him to her.
Why was he torturing her like that, she wondered. Why was he touching her in a way that he knew would excite her, and blind her to all other responsibilities? And yet, it felt so good, she couldn't bring herself to make him stop.
"I think I'd better apologize for last night," he said in a tone that sounded truly repentant. "I know I was kind of rotten."
Mary didn't believe it. She was going insane, to be sure, she decided. He couldn't be saying those things to her in that tone of voice. He couldn't be that sensitive to her needs, all of a sudden, for no special reason. It was too wonderful to be real.
"Forget it." She hoped she sounded convincing, despite the tempest of confusion raging through her brain. "We were both tired."
"No, I don't want to forget it." He pressed his fingers into the softness of her arms. "I want to make it up to you."
"You don't owe me anything." Mary fought the tears that welled behind her lids. She felt as if she might go stark raving mad from the conflict of wanting him and the instinctive need to protect herself against future heartache and disappointment.
"It's not a matter of owing." His fingers wandered up and down her bare arms. "Don't you think I want you-too?" a quivering in his tone. He suddenly pressed his lips to her cheek and stopped speaking.
Mary leaned back against him as the last ounce of resistance deserted her. Reaching out, she clasped his hands in hers and drew his arms around her eager body. The room began to spin as his teeth grazed the lobes of her ear, and she reveled in the ecstasy of his embrace.
This was what she really needed all the time, she assured herself, his mouth inching down toward the nape of her neck. Enjoying him was so much more sensible than teaching herself to live without him. She shouldn't have tried to. She should have trusted him to come back. And she should have had more confidence in herself as a woman.
"You were saying something about having to go downstairs all afternoon?" Chuck teased, as he reached for the zipper at the back of her dress.
Mary sucked in her breath and tried to remain still. Now that she no longer had to pretend indifference, she wanted to let herself go and make up for all the time they had wasted. It was going to be so good now, she knew. For only Chuck could set things right again. And finally, he was about to.
"Go lock the door," she said, her voice urgent and hardly recognizable. The tense shrillness of only moments ago had been replaced by the throaty lustiness of desire.
Chuck stepped away from her. "Anything you say, ma'am." He mocked their maid's servile inflection.
Mary started across the bedroom, unable to contain a smile, and a sense of well-being that seemed to welcome her back to life. She couldn't have been happier.
"Where are you going?" Chuck asked, as he snapped the latch.
"To undress, silly," she said. "Where did you think?"
He hurried back to her and pulled Mary into his arms. "I'll take care of that for you," he commanded softly.
Mary felt the embarrassment coloring her cheeks, and she couldn't look at him. "What do you suppose the caterers are going to think about our sudden disappearance?" She tried to imitate the playful tone Chuck used before.
"That Mister and Mrs. Randel have some entertaining of their own to do." He winked and pulled her even closer to him. "Any objections?"
"None.": Mary sighed and leaned into the kiss. As their lips met, she allowed herself to go limp against Chuck's strong body. It was so good to lean again. She was his now. The fight was over. And she felt confident that Chuck would take care of her-in every way.
A few moments later, grinning slyly, he pushed her away. "Now just stand there and don't move," he ordered, walking slowly around to the back of her trembling body.
Mary bit her lower lips as his fingers drew down the zipper over her spine, and coaxed the dress from her shoulders. The material rustled to the rug, and a moment later, Chuck's expert fingers were encouraging her slip to follow.
She side-stepped out of the pile of clothing, around her ankles, and hoped he'd finish undressing her quickly. With each passing moment, it was becoming increasingly more difficult to keep herself from touching him-to stop herself from rushing to that most intimate of embraces-and through that wild, climactic moment that would release the devil from her swelling cunt.
But Chuck seemed in no mood to hurry. Without a word, he walked back around to the front of her and sank slowly down on one knee. Then gently, tenderly, he reached out and found the warm softness of her thigh.
The hooks on her stockings opened under the insistent pressure of his fingers, and Mary gasped as Chuck guided the sheer nylon down her bare leg. His fingers hardly touched her, and yet her knees threatened to buckle, as if a great weight were pressing her forward.
"Don't move yet," Chuck said, seeming to sense that she was losing control. He helped her out of her shoes and then slowly, very slowly, he ran his palms up over her panties, above her waist, and on to the ripe fullness of her throbbing breasts.
"Please darling, no more," Mary begged, as he squeezed the lace over her nipples and coaxed them to rigid attention.
"Are you sure?" He slid his fingertips under the material and onto the moist, naked flesh.
"Yes, I'm sure," Mary said, grasping his wrists, as her insides lurched violently. Every pore of her body threatened to explode beneath the maddeningly delightful tension Chuck had inspired. And now she wanted to enjoy that marvelous resolution that was meant to follow.
"All right, then," Chuck said, smiling. "I just wanted to make sure you were ready." If she hadn't been so excited, Mary would have laughed out loud. Ready! She'd been ready for days, weeks, months, she thought. Half her life seemed to be spent in waiting. The end couldn't arrive soon enough for her.
By the time Chuck had undressed, Mary was lying naked between the cool, fresh sheets. When she felt the mattress dip beneath the weight of his knee, she closed her eyes. In another moment or two, now, she knew. And then-
His hand searched out her naked breast and fondled it silently. Mary felt the last of her endurance slip away. And she rolled toward him.
"Now, Chuck, please," she rasped.
And he obeyed immediately. I
The moment he inserted his erect organ into her steaming pussy, a trickle of perspiration slithered between her shoulder blades, and she thrashed beneath the thrilling weight of Chuck's body. He knew her so well, she thought, as a familiar hurricane of pleasure stormed through her cunt, the harbinger of perfection, barely seconds away.
And then she was moaning endearments and straining to bring him as close as was humanly possible. Every inch of her body shuddered and rippled as she rose to meet his thrusting prick, in an uncontrollable pursuit of long-awaited pleasure.
She dug her heels into the mattress and arched her back when she came, whimpering and pounding her feather-light arms against Chuck's broad, glistening back, she plummeted over the brink, and her juice seemed to ooze from every pore of her body.
Through sweet, summer air, she spiraled happily downward to the damp mattress. Her cunt was satisfied. Her flesh was calm.
And yet, she was unable to rest.
"What about you?" she whispered, beneath Chuck's chin.
"Never mind." He shrugged and rolled on to his side of the bed.
"You know what I mean. Why not?" Mary couldn't bring herself to say it. But still she knew. She had sensed, despite her own needs, that she had been alone at the crucial moment.
"Oh, it isn't important," Chuck yawned. "As long as you're happy, and you know there's nothing to worry about any more.
Mary felt a sudden understanding shatter her contentment into a million tiny pieces. She had been fooling herself again. Chuck wasn't the selfless type, and never in their years together, not once, had he been content to give pleasure, without taking at least as much in return.
She'd been right at the very outset. Now she was positive of it. He was trying to pull the wool over her eyes, to convince her that everything was cozy again between them. She knew her husband well enough to understand why, too. There could only be one reason for Chuck to waste all that effort trying to fool her and that reason had to be blonde.
Mary didn't say anything.
Not even when Chuck mentioned, casually of .course, that he was thinking about inviting those nice young people from the flower shop over for cocktails some time.
Cocktails, indeed!
But Mary didn't comment. And she didn't lose her temper, either. She was much too busy thinking.
And her thoughts were that two could play the same game.
CHAPTER THREE
He'd stayed awake half the previous night to finish the arrangements for Mrs. Randel's party. And now the lack of sleep was beginning to attack him and drain his energy like a virus in the body.-
David set the last centerpiece in place, and stepped back to admire his work through bloodshot eyes. He'd really knocked himself out for this occasion, and his effort had paid off in beautiful, eye-catching results.
Randel couldn't help but be pleased with the decor, he felt sure. And with a little luck, her word-of-mouth advertisement would bring him a couple of wealthy new customers.
David wished he could feel the sense of accomplishment and satisfaction that usually accompanied the end of a big job, but he was too tired. Now that the work was done, all he wanted was to get out of there and jump into cool shower.
He looked around the room for the regal Mrs. Randel, but she wasn't anywhere to be seen. Just as well, David decided. He could do without her tense personality. There was no need to go hunting for her approval. Besides, he already had the check in his pocket.
The burning rays of the sun seemed determined to bore a hole right through the top of his aching skull. David slid in behind the wheel of his station wagon and glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Three-thirty. Was that all, he asked himself, grimacing. The way he felt, he'd expected the time to be closer to five or six.
Awareness descended to sour his outlook even further. Exhausted or not, it was Saturday. And that meant he had to keep the shop open until seven. David cursed his need for money and started the engine. He was positive he'd never make it through the rest of the day without keeling right over on his face.
As he steered the wagon out of the driveway, he decided to let Barbara finish out the day in the shop alone. Why not, he challenged, a twinge of guilt that rose along with the sudden decision rankling him.
After all, she had slept last night. She should be able to handle things for a couple of hours without putting the store out of business. Besides, after putting up with Barbara for six months, he deserved a little rest.
The intense bitterness in his attitude surprised him. It seemed that every time he thought about that girl lately, it was in the negative, except when it came to sex. And even that part of their marriage had its discomforting elements.
He had to admit it, once she was out of bed, Barbara made for lousy company. But what could he do? He was stuck with her.
Or was he?
The implication made him pause and begin to wonder about himself. He had never seriously considered being unfaithful to Barbara during the months since they'd been married. Of course, he'd met a couple of women in the shop, and he would have enjoyed a roll in the hay with them. That was only natural, David told himself, shrugging. But even if he'd had a fling, it wouldn't have disturbed him as much as today's thoughts were disturbing him. The kind of adultery he was envisioning now, he realized, went much deeper than just a passing, physical affair.
David knew he could accept the need to fuck another woman. But wanting another woman for more, much more, than just sex, was a feeling he'd never had to cope with before. And it surprised him. For this desire altered his entire outlook. It added up to a complete alienation of affection, and most shocking, it left no place in his life for Barbara.
But why, he asked himself shakily. What was it, all of a sudden, that he felt he was missing? What did he need that Barbara couldn't give him?
An adult. That was the answer. That was what he needed. David realized that he wanted someone with whom he could talk, without having to watch every word. Someone who wouldn't make him feel as if he were dealing with a vulnerable, over-sensitive child by day, and a frenzied, sex-hungry creature by night.
And then, even his troublesome love life would be perfect, David assured himself. For once he'd found such a woman, the physical side of their relationship would have to be different from that which he had now. What they did in bed would mean something and say something. The fusion of his cock and an exciting cunt would become another way of communicating and sharing a complete knowledge and enjoyment of another person.
And then he'd be able to give of himself during an act, freely, completely, and take without feeling that he was just going through the motions of love.
That huge dose of truth made him chill, despite the stifling summer heat. David exhaled a thin stream of air between tight lips and swung the wagon around a corner too quickly. He'd never been the type to think so seriously and candidly about his life, and now he was shaken. He'd always figured that once he was married to a girl, that was that. like the man said, for better or for worse.
And now, today, all of a sudden, he felt a hundred years older and perhaps, wiser. The oversights and compromises of the past would no longer do. The complications of life were revealing themselves to him. And these new insights brought with them the responsibility to act upon what he knew. Without question, there would have to be some kind of major change in his life, and soon.
Tires squealed as he jammed on the brakes at a stop sign. David shifted gears and hoped that all this confusion was merely because he was so damned tired. He really didn't feel at all up to the job of making any permanent important decisions. Maybe if would be best to sleep on it all for awhile, he told himself, to see how things looked after he's had a chance to rest and think some more.
Sleep. That felt like the perfect prescription for all his ills at the moment. That's exactly just what he'd do, David decided. Tell Barbara to finish out the day while he went home to get some much needed rest. After that, he'd worry about what to do with his marriage.
She had agreed immediately, almost happily, to take care of the shop for the remainder of the afternoon. And unless he was mistaken, David could have sworn she'd been rather cool to him, almost as if she were glad to see him go, and glad to be away from him.
He wondered then if he should go back and find out if Barbara had something on her mind, something he should know about.
Nonsense, he told himself, as he slid his key into the apartment door and opened it. Everything seemed out of focus when he was this tired. Barbara was just being considerate and accommodating. She knew he was bushed and she wanted to be nice to him. And why not, he added, angrily. He'd given her what she wanted last night.
Or had he, David wondered, as he locked the front door behind him. It was hard to tell about Barbara that way. She could have been fooling him. Just pretending that everything was all right in bed, as far as she was concerned. And that she'd forgotten that uncomfortable little incident between them.
Despite his better judgment, David allowed his thought to race back to that night in their bedroom-the night that Barbara had almost made him lose control completely.
Not that he wouldn't have liked to, he remembered. She was the kind of woman born just to make men lose control. And it would have been great to let himself go, and do everything with her, everything that a man and woman could do, everything that he'd always dreamed of doing to her. He'd come close, too. Very close to giving in.
He'd arrived home from the shop that evening, and sensed immediately that something was on her mind. Not by anything that Barbara had said, but by little clues, like the way her fingers trembled when she touched him. And the way she'd clung to him when they kissed. Almost as if in desperation and fear.
The give-away was when she said she wanted to go to bed early. That wasn't at all like her. As long as he'd known Barbara, she's always been a lively one, out dancing till three, and still ready for more action, when David was about to drop.
She'd hurried into the bedroom then to get undressed. And even the silence was uneasy. Something was brewing in her pretty head, David felt sure of it. And then he'd heard her calling to him, a strange voice, a calculated tone, almost a command.
The moment he walked into the bedroom, everything became frightfully clear.
She was wearing a white nightgown, draped tantalizingly over her body. And as she stood with the light coming from a lamp behind her, she might as well have been wearing nothing at all.
He glanced up to her face. A different face from the one he knew. The expression there was one he'd never seen before. Full, pursed lips, painted liquid red, and set in a sly, come-hither smile. Blonde hair cascaded down to her shoulders in tumbling abandon. The room reeked of cheap perfume and powder. She was ready to be taken.
Or more precisely, David felt, to take him.
Again, she smiled at him. This time, with evil, twinkling eyes.
"Like my new outfit?" she whispered huskily.
David stood dumbfounded and uncomfortable in the doorway. He watched without comment as she turned in a slow circle, to model the filmy garment, and excite him with her near-nakedness.
Every curve and angle of her body was perfect. Her skin, white and flawless, took on a marbleized texture beneath the sheer material. And as she moved, her limbs flowed in a fluid motion that made David's eyes widen and his insides leap with arousal.
"I bought it just for you," she continued, in that soft, throaty tone, thick with lust, trembling ever so slightly as her own mood intensified.
David could only watch this parade of flesh in bewildered, dizzying agitation. His glance automatically dropped to the dark points of her breasts, subtly shadowed behind the gown. High and full, the mounds of flesh were molded by the material and stood out, beckoning him to come closer, to touch, to kiss, to do anything he wanted with her.
The soft roundness of her hips began to rock in a slow undulation and the gown brushed soundlessly back and forth over her ass. He watched the smooth, enticing flesh color of her legs appear and disappear behind the moving folds of the material.
He wanted to thrust his hands down deep into her love hole-to capture that movement and complement it with his own cock.
But something stopped him. Something that he couldn't name. Barbara slid a palm down across the flatness of her stomach, and moistened her lips with her tongue. And in that moment, she looked as if she knew more-much more, than David had taught her.
Perhaps that was what had turned him off, he thought now. She'd never shown the daring and immodesty that she exhibited that night. Never had there been such raw, unhidden desire in her manner. Never had she been so bold, and brazenly honest.
like the way she reached for the silk ribbon above her breasts and tugged the bow open. "Maybe you'd like it better if I took this off," Barbara crooned, as. the nightgown slid down her arms and floated vaporously to the floor.
David drew in his breath at the sight of her, ripe and ready for love. She stood unashamedly, challenging all the self-control he possessed, challenging him to turn away from the irresistible trap she'd prepared for his homecoming. Then, glistening and naked, she sauntered up to him and rubbed the hard points of her breasts across the front of-his damp shirt. "Feel good?" she murmured as she leaned a little closer to him, and brushed his thigh with a fingertip.
David shuddered, a combination of desire and disgust. She'd always been so passive until then. She'd never acted the harlot before. She opened his mouth to speak, to question.
But she wound her long arms around his neck and buried her tongue deep into his ear.
And David knew that even if he spoke, Barbara was beyond hearing his words.
She took him by the hand, and walked him over to the bed. Without a word, she undid his tie and opened the buttons on his shirt. Moist eager lips trailed a path across his chest, and down toward his stomach.
Suddenly, David realized what was going to happen and he froze. An anxious hand searched out the buckle on his belt and began to open it.
His head began to spin and his thoughts careened wildly through his brain. This wasn't the innocent virgin he had married. This wasn't the Barbara who used to tease, because sex was still a game that she hadn't learned to play yet. This was a woman who knew more than she'd let on. A woman who was seducing him.
And it was revolting.
Even as he did it, David knew she shouldn't have pushed her apart from his flesh, and looked at her as if she were filth. There was really nothing wrong with what she wanted. She was his wife. It was legal. They were alone.
But now, looking back, David knew why he'd been unable to react as Barbara would have liked. Now he understood that the great void between them had made her lovemaking seem cheap and sordid. And that until they could reach each other in spirit, they could never satisfy each other in flesh. :
But what, if anything could he do about it? And was it important enough to knock himself out about?
Of course it was.
Still puzzled and sad, David peeled off his sweaty clothing, and dragged himself toward the shower. Today's problems were more than he was prepared to handle. And they required a great deal more consideration than he had the energy to give them.
The soap and water made him feel clean, but even sleepier. He tossed the bath towel in the hamper, and returned to the bedroom. The soft mattress welcomed him and he stretched full length on top of the sheet.
He would have to talk to her, David told himself, as he closed his eyes and he was certain about that. Maybe even explain a little of what he was feeling, with the vague hope that she would understand.
And then, slowly perhaps, they could set things ngnt between them. Maybe they could recapture the wonderful feeling that had once existed, before they began to demand so much of each other.
Then David promised himself sleepily that he would make up for lost time. And Barbara would get a helluva lot more than she bargained for, when she challenged his body with hers. After all, he had loved the girl-once.
Mumbling inaudibly, , David floated back up toward the surface of consciousness, through a foggy residue of sleep that clouded his brain, he was aware that it was dark and the room, and that he had something to do. Something important.
Rolling on his back, he yawned loudly and forced his mind toward keener awareness. There was no sound in the apartment except for the loud, insistent ticking of the clock on the night table. Fighting off a strong reluctance to move, he reached for the lamp and turned it on.
The face of the clock read nine-forty. He must really have been out cold, David realized. He'd slept for almost five hours.
Nine-forty! Where the hell was she?
He spotted the writing pad, propped up against the lamp and grabbed for it. David scanned the words quickly, shaking his head in disbelief as he read.
Fury colored his neck and made him perspire again. :"Sonofabitch," he muttered under his breath, as he swung his legs on to the floor. He should have known better than to hope for any understanding from Barbara. He should have saved his energies and his concern. Tonight there would be no reconciliation.
He stormed across the room, still clutching the pad. Then almost hoping to erase what he knew to be written, he looked down at Barbara's scrawl, and read it again
David!
Didn't feel like sitting home and doing nothing. I've gone to a party. Don't worry and don't wait up. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow.
That was the last straw David told himself, boiling. So she'd gone out to a party, had she ... without him, and without his permission. No wonder she-was so anxious to get rid of him this afternoon. She'd planned it all along.
Well, that was fine. Just fine with him. If that was the way she wanted to play, he could do the same thing.
And he would he promised himself.
Tomorrow, with the first woman who came into the shop looking for more than just flowers.
Barbara closed the apartment door softly behind her and hurried out to the street. At any moment she half expected to hear the angry sound of David's voice ordering her back into the house, demanding an explanation. Through the heavy stillness of the thick, summer night air she could practically hear her heart pounding with excitement. And fear.
She'd never done anything like this before. Until today, she'd considered herself incapable of sneaking out on David's. And incapable of entertaining thoughts such as those that filled her now, with anxious anticipation of the night's adventure.
Yet there she was, Barbara realized, doing precisely what she never dreamed she would do. Strangely enough, last night's angry decision hadn't faded when morning came. It seemed that she'd really made up her mind to get some fun out of life, finally. And she knew there was no time like the present to begin.
Especially after the invitation she'd received from Chuck Randel....
David had just gone home to get some sleep and Barbara was in the rear of the shop cleaning roses. As she worked, she thought back to her little meeting with Mister Randel and wondered if anything would come of it.
Maybe she'd been too brazen, Barbara worried. : She'd undoubtedly made her intentions perfectly obvious. But then, Mister Randel seemed completely willing ... even eager to sow a few wild oats of his own. And he certainly hadn't seemed the least bit offended by her availability.
She scratched her finger on a thorn and cursed loudly. She was probably the world's biggest fool to think that a rich guy like him would ever bother with a nobody like her, Barbara told herself. He could easily afford plenty of attractive, fashionable women. Why should he step down in class?
Then the remembrance of things he'd said, and the way he'd said them returned to encourage her. That hungry, hopeful look in his eyes when he'd invited her out to the Point, that sly, insinuating tone when he'd mentioned coming over to the shop later in the afternoon. A corsage for his wife had to be a trumped-up excuse, Barbara assured herself. He didn't really want a corsage at all. He wanted her.
That thought was enough to make her cunt tingle and her pulse quicken. At last there might be somebody in her life who wouldn't hold back, somebody who would give her the chance to enjoy herself to the fullest ... somebody who'd make her glad to be a woman, who would fuck her like a man should.
The door out front opened, distracting Barbara from any further speculation. With an automatic pat at her hairdo, she walked out of the back room.
Just in time to return Chuck Randal's huge, knowing grin.
"Well, hello there. Long time no see." Barbara willed her voice calm and hoped her make-up hadn't worn thin. Inside, she felt herself trembling with excitement. He'd really come. He was interested in her. And it might be very soon now that she'd get a chance to.
"Nice little place you've got here." Chuck looked around the shop and nodded his approval.
"I didn't really think you'd show up," Barbara blurted. And immediately she was sorry she'd said that. No sense in planting any snobbish ideas in his head, she told herself angrily. If he thought she was good enough for him, that was all that counted. Besides, she knew she could prove herself more than just good enough-if he'd give her the chance.
"You should have known better." Chuck approached her and his tone softened toward intimacy. "At least we can talk here without being interrupted." He glanced over her shoulder toward the back room. "Right?"
"Absolutely." She set him at ease, immediately. "There's nobody here except the two of us."
"Where's ... ? "
"My husband?" Barbara allowed an expression of disgust to tell Chuck what she thought of David at that moment. "He's gone home for the rest of the day to catch up on his sleep."
"You must keep that boy pretty tired out." Chuck winked.
"I do my best." Barbara chose to say no more about David. This Mister Randal seemed to be moving fast. Maybe too fast. Or maybe not at all. She decided to commit herself no further, until he'd given her a more definite idea of just how far he intended to carry their little game.
"Sometimes your best can be wasted, I'll bet," Chuck hinted, averting his eyes from Barbara's tits as he waited for her reaction.
That was it, Barbara told herself, gleefully. He was moving in for the kill now. And this knowledge excited her. For perhaps without even knowing it, he'd just hit the nail on the head.
"Wasted for awhile, but not necessarily forever." She accepted one of his cigarettes, smiling as he lit it for her.
I was hoping you d say that. Chuck chuckled, as he brought the match up before his own face. "It isn't often that I get a chance to help a lady out." :
"And what makes you so sure that you could?" Barbara's instincts told her to withdraw slightly now, to make herself a little harder to nail down, and thereby increase his interest.
"I'll let you be the judge of that," Chuck answered confidently. "That is, if you're not afraid...."
"Nothing scares me," Barbara announced pointedly.
' "Nothing at all?" Chuck's lascivious expression challenged Barbara's smugness.
"Nothing at all." Barbara informed him that he'd just met his match. Now she waited for him to attend to the petty little details of arranging the time and place for him to prove himself.
"Have you any orchids left?" Chuck changed the subject and the tone of his voice without any apparent reason.
"Sure." Barbara fought to hide her bewilderment. Why hadn't he gone ahead and made the final pass, after she'd given him such a perfect opening? Had he just been toying with her-feeding his own rotten ego by discovering that she was willing to fuck him?
"Fine." Chuck continued in that unexplained, business-like tone. "I'd like a white orchid for tonight for Mrs. Randel."
"I'll get it ready right away." Now Barbara was grateful for the excuse to hurry into the back room. She didn't want Chuck to see the disappointment and the anger that was spreading across her face. He'd made an idiot out of her, she thought, trembling with rage. No, she'd made an idiot out of herself. And it probably served her right.
She was just opening the cooler door when she heard him step up behind her. Steady, sure fingers removed her hand from the knob and turned her around.
"I didn't mean for you to put that corsage together now," Chuck said softly, as he slid his arms around Barbara's waist. "I want you to deliver it in person." I His hands began to rub along her sides, maddeningly close up beneath her breasts. "Tonight."
"Oh, I couldn't possibly ... 'r she stammered, as a familiar, uncontrollable throbbing surged and warmed, beneath her thin silk panties. "The store will be closed and...."
His kiss cut off the rest of her sentence and chased away the motive behind it. Barbara slid further into his arms and felt her heels leave the floor. His mouth was strong and relentless upon her own and his strength precluded any resistance she might have offered, even if he wanted to.
It took only that one kiss for Barbara to decide that Chuck Randel was exactly what she wanted-just what she needed right then in her life.
Even if he hadn't had a big house and lots of money, she would have been more than happy to let him fulfill the urgent needs of her fevered pussy. For this man, she could tell, was well-schooled in the ways of making love, and making women happy. Unlike her own husband, he would pay homage to her sex and thrill her aching cunt in every way possible.
And best of all, he would allow her the freedom in bed that she'd never known before-with no holds bared.
Her hand was shaking and Barbara struggled to unlock the door to the shop. Succeeding at last, she raced to the cooler and pulled out the white box containing the orchid for Mrs. Randel. It was eight-thirty. She knew she was going to be late.
She stopped, nevertheless, to check her appearance in the back room mirror. Barbara faced her own image, smiling proudly at what she saw.
That cocktail dress was just made for man hunting, she thought, happily. Stepping a little closer to the glass, she glanced down past the smooth whiteness of her powdered shoulders to where shiny, black satin outlined the fullness of her young breasts-then to the nipped-in waistline-and finally, to the flowing folds of soft chiffon that rippled just to her knees.
High-heeled shoes accentuated her calves and gave a solidly curved look to her legs. Barbara took a deep breath, knowing what Chuck's reaction would be when he saw her in that outfit. It was going to be fun, having a man panting after her tonight-a man who could make her happy to forget the difference between right and wrong!
The huge Randel mansion was glowing with bright lights from every window. Barbara drove past the lineup of big, expensive cars and parked the wagon at the end of the curved driveway. The sounds of a party floated through the air, infecting her with their festive mood. A band was playing a soft bolero.
And suddenly, Barbara felt terribly out of place.
It was wrong to have come, and now she wanted to run-home where she knew what awaited her.
"That's stupid," she told herself, and forced her legs on to the pavement. She wasn't coming here to socialize with high-society. She was coming here on the pretense of delivering flowers-but really to see Chuck Randel. And she knew he would welcome her with open arms.
"I was beginning to worry about you." Chuck's voice boomed across the entrance hall as the maid brought him out to Barbara.
Barbara .stood stone-still, clutching the flower box tightly in her hands. The sight of him, freshly shaven and immaculately dressed in a white dinner jacket aroused and saddened her at the same time.
Dressed like that, and in such plush surroundings, he wasn't any longer just another man to her-just another conquest. Chuck Randel belonged to a different world, a world of wealth and breeding, a world where Barbara didn't fit. And she knew it was foolish of her to think they could breach the distance between them in a bed.
"I don't think it was such a good idea for me to come here," she confided softly as she handed the box to Chuck.
"Don't be ridiculous." he put his half-finished drink down and took in the sight of her from head to toe. "This dump needs something like you around," he said. "You should see the old bags inside." His eyes lingered for a long moment at the tons of her breasts before returning to Barbara's face.
"Well, whom have we here?" The voice was ice-cold, a harbinger of doom.
Barbara swallowed hard and smiled stupidly at the diamond-studded Mary Randel. The woman's eyes were boring through her, alternately flashing with amusement and contempt.
"These are for you, dear." Chuck jumped into the conversation and came to Barbara's rescue. "The florist's wife was kind enough to deliver them personally."
"How nice," Mary drawled, in a tone that Barbara knew was hardly appreciative.
As she watched the woman open the flower box, Barbara found herself wondering why Chuck needed entertainment away from his home. Despite her ostentatious jewelry and overbearing manner, Mrs. Randel was a handsome, strikingly attractive woman.
Her chestnut-colored hair, Barbara noticed, was arranged in the very latest style, without looking at all too young for her. The floor-length green sheath she wore showed off a well-cared for figure to flattering advantage. If she could look that appealing when she was in her thirties, Barbara told herself, she'd be very happy, very happy indeed.
"Oh Chuck, how very thoughtful of you!" Mary's voice rose in a delightful little laugh.
That Barbara knew was forced and phony.'
She'd used the same tone on David dozens of times.
Suddenly, Mary turned to Barbara. "Young lady, I want you to tell your husband that he does marvelous work," she said, emphasizing the word husband.
"The florist didn't make this," Chuck piped up. "She did."
"Oh did you?" Mary said to Barbara, sounding as if she suddenly had a bad taste in her mouth. "It's lovely. Won't you pin it on, Chuck dear."
Chuck moved quickly to obey his wife's request.
And Barbara just stood silently by, feeling embarrassed and very superfluous there in that house.
"Well, my thanks again," Mary said, when the corsage was in place. Her tone was an obvious dismissal of Barbara. "Are you ready to come back inside, Chuck?"
Chuck glanced briefly in Barbara's direction. "I think the least I can do is offer this young lady a drink for her trouble," he answered.
Barbara saw Mary stiffen slightly before she spoke.
"Of course.": Mary's tone was thick with affected charm. "But don't be too long now. Remember, we have guests." She turned her back on both of them and disappeared toward the dining room.
"She's pretty bitchy, isn't she?" Barbara said, not caring whether or not Chuck was insulted by the remark.
"Forget it." He took her arm and led her down the hall, in the direction opposite to the party. "She's just nervous about tonight."
Barbara sat stiffly on the edge of a green leather sofa in Chuck's den.'
"Scotch or rye?" he called to her from the bar.
"I don't care much," she answered. And it was true, for her mind was still filled with the thinly masked hatred she'd seen on Mrs. Randel's face. The woman knew something, or suspected something. She had to, unless she was completely blind to her husband's extra-curricular activities. And Barbara wanted out.
"Here ya go." Chuck was suddenly leaning over her, extending a full glass. "Bottoms up."
Barbara took a huge gulp and forced the liquor to stay down. It seemed now that alcohol was the only way out of this little trap she'd created for herself. And any escape at that moment would have been a welcome one.
"You mix them pretty strong," she said, when she'd drained her glass.
"Want another one?" Chuck was wearing that same smile he'd displayed after the first time he'd kissed her in the shop.
"No, I don't think so," Barbara said, wishing she could figure out a graceful exit. .
"I'll bet I know what you do want, though," Chuck laughed, deep in his throat as he descended upon her.
Before she had a chance to stop him, Chuck's weight forced Barbara down flat on the couch. The warm leather stuck to the skin on her ass, as she squirmed futilely to get out from under his body.
His tongue filled her mouth and his hands sought out the softness of her breasts. Barbara felt her cunt respond to his touch, but she fought the growing arousal with all her might. This was not the way she wanted it-in a room with a party going on in the house-Wham, bam, thank you ma'am on a sofa-quick, before the wife comes back.
"Chuck, please ... " she protested, when she could speak again. "Somebody might walk in."
"The door is locked." His voice was heavy with desire. "And the way you look in that dress!" The rest of his sentence went unspoken as he pressed his hungry lips to the sweetly scented valley between Barbara's breasts.
She was about to push him away, and then his hand began to inch up beneath her skirt. Barbara gasped softly and clenched her teeth. His fingers were moving quickly now, climbing higher with each passing moment, driving her wild with the need for a closer, more intimate contact ... setting her pussy on fire, making her forget where she was, who he was, and what could possibly happen if somebody knocked on that door.
In his haste to remove it, Chuck ripped the top of her stocking. The sound seemed to snap her back to sobriety. For, suddenly, Barbara was in complete control again.
"No, Chuck. Not here. Not now."
Her tone of voice stopped him dead. "What's wrong, baby?" He stared disbelievingly at her.
"I don't like this.": She spoke with conviction now. ""This isn't the sort of togetherness I had in mind." :
"What do you mean?" His tone hinted anger. "You've been leading me on all along...."
"Sure I have." She cut him off before he could say what she didn't want to hear. "And I meant everything I said. But not like this. Maybe some time when we're alone...."
"We're alone now." He replaced his hand on her knee.
Barbara brushed it aside. "Not alone enough. And that's final."
Chuck seemed to pause for a moment as if trying to decide whether or not to be angry. Shrugging resignedly, he stood up and straightened his jacket. "How about tomorrow, then?" he asked. "We can drive out to the Point."
"I'll phone you." Barbara fixed her stocking as best she could and got up off the sofa. Right now she had to leave this man, and this place. She wanted to think, to figure out what it was that had made her push him away, that had given her second thoughts about what she'd set out to do.
She left with only a brisk goodbye and walked as fast as she could to her car. Despite her decision to go, her groin still throbbed with the need for release, with the violent desire to be fucked, hard and fast.
She thought then of David, sleeping so soundly on the bed when she left. Perhaps that was what had gotten between herself and Chuck back in the house. Maybe she was feeling guiltier than she'd thought.
There was only one way to find out, Barbara decided as she started up the wagon. No doubt but that she needed a man. Tonight. And, as circumstance had willed it, David was going to get another chance to be that man. His last chance.
As he drove home, the idea appealed to her more and more. She didn't really want to get involved with Chuck Randel, she decided. Wouldn't it be nicer if she could satisfy herself with her own husband, and not have to run after somebody else's man? Then she could break relations with Chuck before anything really happened.
The lights were off when she pulled up in front of her apartment house. Barbara smiled, figuring David was still asleep. She knew just how she'd wake him up, too.
She slid the key into the lock and turned it. The door opened soundlessly and she stepped inside.
The unmistakable odor of gin assailed her nostrils. "David?" she called into the darkness. No answer.
She found the light switch and flipped it. David's body was sprawled across the sofa. The empty bottle of gin lay beside him on the rug.
Barbara ran over and shook him by the shoulders. A horrible sense of futility filled her and told her that there'd be no fucking for her tonight. But still she had to try. Her need was too great to give up without at least making an attempt.
"David?" She kissed his damp cheek and ran her hands over his hard chest. "Wake up, darling. It's Barbara."
Still no answer.
Now she was running toward the bathroom, in search of a washcloth. Drenching it with cold water, she returned to the sofa and placed it against David's forehead.
His eyes blinked open and he bolted to a sitting position. "Good morning," Barbara forced a sweet smile. She'd be nice to him even if he was drunk. Very nice. Because she had to have something. Something that only David could give her. "You've had quite a bit to drink, haven't you?" She leaned forward to kiss him.
The hand lashed out and caught her stingingly across the mouth. "Get away from me," he snarled, "you slut." '
Barbara's eyes opened wide with terror and confusion. "David ... ? "
He stood up and headed for the door.
Barbara started to follow, but he slammed it closed behind him.
Hot tears filled her eyes and her chest heaved in labored breathing. Her mouth ached from where he'd hit her. But the ache' in her cunt bothered her more-and made her inclined to forgive.
She'd go out to the street and look for him, Barbara decided. She'd make him listen to her. She'd make him want her, no matter what she had to do.
The sound of the car motor told her that it was no use. She ran to the window, in time to see the wagon race down the block and screech around the corner.
Barbara sank slowly to the sofa which was still warm from the weight of David's body. Sobbing softly, she peeled off her torn stocking and tried to decide what she would do.
The answer came immediately. Wiping her moist cheeks, she walked into the kitchen. Then she lifted the receiver and dialed.
"Hello, I'd like to speak with Mister Randel, please...."
CHAPTER FOUR
Chuck lit a fresh cigarette with the butt of his old one. He puffed nervously while the maid mixed him another double scotch-on-the-rocks. Then, with one long determined gulp, he tried to drive away those thoughts of Barbara-the very thoughts that had occupied his mind and plagued his body for the last hour.
No use, he realized sadly. That little bitch had definitely shaken him up. And it was no wonder. Any man with half-an-ounce of life in his cock would have reacted to her in the same way.
He found an empty corner in the living-room and leaned back against the wall. He closed his eyes to better enjoy an unexpected breeze that floated in from the lawn. Through the foggy thickness of a liquor-addled brain he was aware of party sounds around him. People laughing and joking as if they were truly happy-as if they were going to live forever. But none of them was any different from himself, Chuck felt sure. Tonight every smile was a mask.
"Oh, there you are!"
The shrill voice shattered his aura of privacy and jolted him back to the moment. Without enthusiasm, Chuck opened his eyes and nodded to his wife. "Nice party," he lied.
"How would you know?" Mary stood accusingly before him. Her eyes darted to either side. Once assured that nobody was paying attention, she allowed her" features to reveal intense disapproval. "Are you going to keep drinking until you have to be carried upstairs?" Her tone belonged to a petulant child.
Chuck allowed himself the luxury of a cutting retort. "Then you could help me get undressed, and put me to bed," he snarled. "I'll bet you'd just love that."
The hurt and anger flashed in Mary's eyes for a brief moment only. Then, quite obviously and purposely, she composed herself to reply. "What good would it do me?" she raised an eyebrow and smiled venomously. "You wouldn't be any good, anyhow."
"Maybe not for you, baby," he heard himself grow immediately defensive. "I might be very good for somebody else though-"
"At your age you should know better than to bite off more than you can chew," she snapped back at him, Then, without waiting for an answer, Mary turned and sailed off ,across the room, into a conversation with some man that he did not know.
Chuck's jaw hung open stupidly, as he watched her withdraw. Now what the hell did she mean by that, he wondered. As if he didn't know. What else could Mary have been referring to?
Barbara!
She had to be drunk, Chuck decided. Mary wouldn't talk to him that way if she were sober. She wouldn't dare. The woman didn't have that kind of guts. She wasn't the independent type.
At least she'd never been, before. "At your age-" The words resounded inside his head and made him furious. The more he thought about what she'd said, the angrier he became. Was his wife shrewdly pounding away at his greatest fear? Or had she just been lucky in her choice of words?
Whatever the answer, she'd gotten through to him. And he had to get away. Right now.
The sound of the door slamming echoed through his empty den. Intent upon oblivion, Chuck stormed over to the bar and yanked the cork out of a silver decanter.
He couldn't taste the scotch going down, but he didn't care. Nothing was important anymore. Nothing except that he relieve the maddening pulsations that were rioting through his prick-that enormous urgency that had been sparked by Barbara, the woman he'd wanted so badly but couldn't have.
Little beads of perspiration broke out across his forehead as he sat down on the sofa and saw her again in his mind's eye. That white inviting flesh, those firm young breasts, bobbing up and down beneath her dress, straining to break free, those round calves and warm thighs-and the promise of that sweat cunt.
"Damn her!" He cursed aloud and tossed the empty shot glass onto the far end of the sofa. So what if she was much younger than he, Chuck argued with himself, and against his wife's insinuation. He could take care of Barbara. She'd get her kicks, all right-like she'd never known before, that was for sure! If only she'd have let him!
But she hadn't. And now, he was left again with only his wife to remind him that the years were passing.
"To hell with her, too," Chuck growled under his breath. If Mary thought she was going to cramp his style with a few well-chosen words, she was sadly mistaken. There were other girls in the world, plenty of them, too, all young, ripe and eager to discover the pleasures waiting in a big bed. And with his money, Chuck told himself, he could surely have his pick of dozens.
The thought of that very money killed his momentum. All he'd need was to get caught with some young thing, he knew. The scandal would catapult Mary right out of his life, once and for all. And all that cash would go with her.
The truth hurt. He was trapped. Barbara would have been a very lucky break for him if she'd gone through with all her promises. But she hadn't. At least this time she hadn't. Maybe next time ... !
A red hot tension in his cock told him that he couldn't live on hope. He needed satisfaction now. Tonight. Or else he would surely go out of his mind.
There was always Mary, Chuck reminded himself. No, he decided, he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of needing her. Not after what she'd said to him. Especially when she'd practically told him that he was ready to be put out to pasture. He wasn't going to do anything for her anymore. Except spend her money.
He'd have to find another woman. Tonight.
Vicki. There was the answer.
A big smile lit his face. Why hadn't he thought of her sooner, Chuck asked himself. She'd be glad to see him. Delirious to make him happy. Anything he wanted she'd do, and love it.
He'd exhaust the woman, Chuck promised himself as he stepped toward the phone. That would show Mary who was too old to give him the sexual pleasure he needed so badly.
The phone rang three times at the other end before the receiver was lifted. Chuck licked his lips with anticipation, having already decided which line he'd use on Vicki tonight.
"Hello?" Her voice sounded unusually frail.
"Hello, Vicki honey. This is Chuck."
There was a long silence, as though his words hadn't quite registered. "Chuck?" It sounded like a confused echo.
"Chuck Randel. Don't tell me you've forgotten me already."
"Oh dear, what a surprise this is." She giggled nervously. "I never expected to."
"I know you didn't, honey," Chuck interrupted, not wanting to waste any more time than was absolutely necessary. His burning dick was twitching with the need for a woman. He could feel the heat rising up along the back of his neck. Even if it was only Vicki. He wanted her. And fast.
"We've got a big benefit dinner going here tonight," he began the snow job he'd rehearsed while dialing. "Lots of dull people. I was thinking that I'd much rather be with you."
"Chuck, this is so sudden." She sounded overwhelmed. "You've never behaved like this!"
"I know, baby. I know." He wished she'd stop simpering and invite him over. "That's the way it goes, sometimes. Nothing wrong with that, is there?"
"I just don't know what to say."
"Just say you're free, that's all." The beginnings of impatience crept into his tone.
"Of course I'm free," Vicki announced. "Would you like to...."
"I'll be there in half-an-hour." Chuck sighed aloud. He thought she'd never get around to asking.
"Are we going out?" Vicki's voice was suddenly bubbling with happiness. "What shall I wear?"
"Nothing." 'He softened his tone to one that he knew would drive her wild. "We're going to stay home and bust your bedsprings."
"Oh, Chuck!" She giggled insipidly. "You have no shame."
"If you want, we can just watch television," he said, coolly, as his familiar desire to torture the woman returned. "Or just go for a drive." He waited, smiling, for her to beg.
"You know better than that, darling." Her voice was noticeably huskier. "It's just that you're so direct, sometimes."
"Isn't that the way you like it?" He wasn't going to stop until she'd backed down completely.
"Everything has its time and place," she defended herself, hesitantly.
That did it. Vicki was beginning to sound just like Barbara. "All right, never mind. Just forget the whole damned thing," Chuck snapped angrily. He didn't need a hard time from Vicki. He'd tolerated enough resistance for one night. If she was going to stay put on that high horse of hers, he could get along without her too.
"Please, Chuck, don't get upset." Her tone was pleading. "I didn't mean to sound difficult. Just come over."' There was a noticeable pause. "I'll be ready."
"That's better." He slammed the receiver down without saying good-bye, for effect. Let her worry a little, he told himself. A huge, victorious smile brightened his face. She'd be waiting for him, he knew. And that's the way he liked it. Women were better when they were scared. Especially when they were scared of losing the tool that drove them crazy.
He took the stairs up to his bedroom two at a time. Suddenly, the short drive to Vicki's apartment felt like it was going to be a tremendous trip. Chuck chuckled and tried to console himself that the waiting would make everything there seem twice as good.
He was just slapping on some fresh after-shave lotion when he heard a soft knocking on the bedroom door. "Come on in, I'm decent," he called sarcastically, figuring it was Mary, wanting to make up.
"Telephone call for you, Mister Randel." The maid smiled briskly and turned to leave.
"Who's calling?" he asked, irritated that it wasn't his wife coming to apologize after all.
"She wouldn't give her name. Just wanted to speak to you," the maid answered, before disappearing out into the hall.
"She?" Chuck thought aloud as he raced for the phone.
"Hello, Chuck. The voice was tense, frightened.
But he recognized it immediately, and he could hardly believe his ears. "Hello, Barbara." He hid the gladness from his tone. No sense in her knowing how strongly she'd affected him. "What can I do for you?"
"Are you-very busy?" She sounded strangely shy.
"Well, sort of." He was pleased at the coolness he heard in his voice. She'd had her chance earlier tonight. No woman was going to make a fool out of him twice in one evening.
"I was hoping ... well ... " she stammered.
"Yes, what is it?" he asked, still sounding aloof. Chuck thought he knew the answer, but he forced himself not to jump the gun. A great throbbing made itself felt from his right temple all the way down to his prick. Was it possible, he wondered. Had she changed her mind? Dare he hope?
"Can I see you ... now?" She sounded as if the words were painful to speak.
"I don't know, Barbara." So he was right! Chuck silently congratulated himself and tried to remain calm. That, he knew, was not going to be easy. Of course she could see him tonight-or tomorrow-or anytime, for that matter. But he'd have to keep her on the defensive-just like Vicki-if he were going to get what he wanted from her.
"I'm sorry about before ... really." Barbara seemed to have read his thoughts. "I had to leave. Try to understand." I
"And now?"
"I don't think so ... You know what I mean."
The corners of Chuck's turned up in a smug, satisfied smirk. "Do I?" He turned the knife.
"Don't make me beg-please," Barbara pleaded. "I just had a terrible fight with David."
"I'm sorry to hear that, but what can I possibly do to help?" Chuck sat down beside the phone enjoying every moment of his revenge. Two women propositioning him in less than ten minutes. It was almost too fantastic to believe.
Who said he was too old?
"I want to ... fuck ... you ... tonight!" She sounded like she'd almost choked on the words.
"Is that so?" He couldn't resist punishing her a little more. She'd learn her lesson for the future, Chuck promised himself. She'd never tease him again, unless she meant to come across.
"Is that so?" he repeated more harshly. "Yes ... yes" her voiced almost whispered back, "I've changed my mind; you didn't I hope."
"Why, I don't know," Chuck shot back. "I have, really Chuck, listen to me."
"I've changed my mind." Her voice was hardly more than a painful whisper. "I want you to come over. Quickly."
Chuck lit a cigarette and took his time about answering. "What about your husband? It wouldn't look very good if he walked in and found us fucking, would it?"
"He won't be back for quite a while," Barbara said wistfully. "He was boiling when he left. I know David's temper. I doubt if he'll come back at all tonight."
"Well, all right ... if you're sure about that."
"I'm sure."
Chuck wrote down the address Barbara gave him and was glad to hang up quickly. Another few minutes, he knew, and his true feelings would have become evident in his voice. And then the kid might change her mind. He couldn't face that let-down, again.
The party was still going strong when he got back downstairs. For a minute he considered sneaking out without seeing Mary. But then, he told himself that such a move would seem too suspicious.
"I'm going out for a while," he told her when he'd maneuvered Mary away from the crowd. "I've got a miserable headache."
"I don't doubt it," she said with a snicker that Chuck would have liked to slap right out of her mouth. He had to force himself to be polite ... anything to get away peacefully.
Mary sighed and shook her head resignedly. "Do what you must." And with that she was on her way back to her guests.
Chuck pondered over her attitude for only a moment. Then he reminded himself that Barbara was waiting for him ... and he no longer gave a damn what Mary was thinking.
He found Barbara's last name on the directory in the lobby. Despite the cool breeze from the street, Chuck felt the perspiration running down his back. He reached for the button with trembling fingers. He could hardly wait....
The sound of the buzzer impelled him to motion. A few moments later he stood in front of her apartment door. And then she was smiling at him ... and making him more than glad to have come.
She wore a pink flowered housecoat that did very little to hide the fact that she was stark naked beneath it. Chuck sucked in his breath and fought to tear his eyes away from two sharp points that jabbed out behind the material. His immediate reaction was to grab her and throw her to the rug. But he decided to remain civilized ... at least for five minutes.
"Can I offer you a drink?" she asked, when the door was locked behind them.
"One more, and I won't be responsible for what I do," Chuck kidded, knowing from the lust in her eyes just how she'd respond.
"That's fine with me," Barbara whispered, and sauntered into the kitchen.
He followed her and watched her reach up to lift a bottle of scotch from the cupboard. Rounded hips and molded ass strained against the housecoat as she extended her arm upward. She glanced back quickly to see if he was looking at her. And suddenly Chuck realized that she'd struck that revealing pose for his benefit.
Her perfume quickened his senses as she stepped up close and handed him a tumbler half-filled with scotch. "Thanks for coming over," she said, smiling directly up into his eyes. "I don't know what I'd have done if you'd turned me down."
"Fat chance." Chuck winked and raised his glass to clink against hers. There was silence as they drank deeply.
"Another?" she asked, when the glasses were empty.
The atmosphere was getting hazy. He knew he was very drunk. "No ... thanks." Chuck set his glass on the counter-top without taking his eyes from the enticing cunt so close to him. She returned his look with an expression that matched his own desire and impatience. Then, without waiting to be asked, he pulled her roughly into his arms.
Her soft breasts felt so good as they flattened against his heaving chest. Chuck pulled her up against him as tight as he could, hating the clothes that got in their way. Driving his tongue deep into her yielding mouth, he dug his fingertips into the softness behind her hips, until he felt her squirm beneath the pressure.
"You shouldn't have kept me waiting so long," he whispered, running his dry lips up and down her neck. "It's not going to be easy to be gentle."
"Who asked you to?" Barbara answered.
And he knew as she led him back toward the living-room that she was happy.
His tie and jacket gave him a rough time, but Chuck finally got them off and tossed them over the back of a chair. "Come back here," he ordered in the semi-darkness.
"Glad to," Barbara said, stepping right up in front of him and reaching for the top button of his shirt.
He couldn't stand it for another moment. Tugging and stumbling, he led her toward the sofa and lowered them to the soft pillows. "You're enough to drive a guy out of his mind," he whispered, rolling her on top of him and wrapping her torso in his arms.
"Think so?" Barbara hissed, as she breathed a thin stream of moist air onto his neck.
Chuck shuddered and forced her mouth down on to his own. With one hand at the nape of her neck, he ground his lips against hers.
Desire overwhelmed him as his fingertips found the naked flesh beneath her pubic hair. Bunching the material in his hand, he pulled her dress up until it rested over her hips. Then his palm explored the soft perfection of her bare thighs ... her ass ... her hips ... her cunt.
She wrenched herself free and tugged at his belt. Chuck clenched his teeth and fought to remain patient while she undressed him.
Warm, moist lips teasingly traced a path over his quivering stomach. Chuck felt his cock throb agonizingly from the heat of her kisses.
He reached down and locked his fingers around her waist. Practically lifting her into the air, he coaxed Barbara's body back up over his.
"I can't take much more of this." His voice was hoarse and grating against her ear.
Barbara didn't answer. But her fingers spoke for her, as she reached for his throbbing dick.
The roller coaster poised on the top of a huge curve. Chuck felt the tension as the moment approached, and despite its attraction, he knew it couldn't be complete. "Not like that" he snapped, and pushed her hand away from his torrid shaft.
Barbara started to move downward again, but he stopped her. The girl was wild, uncontrollable, and in the back of his mind he knew she wasn't ready. But still, an immediate need screamed for attention. And he knew he must make her comply with the desire in his cock.
"Sit up." His words were sharp, clipped.
Barbara obeyed without dispute. Her bare knees pressed against the sides of Chuck's glistening body.
He reached up and found the neckline of her housecoat. The sound of material ripping startled him, but for only a moment. Then the sensation of her nakedness ... complete and unhidden from his own, forced his attention back to his goal.
He squeezed her breasts and tried to guide her cunt to capture his prick, but it was no good. "Damn it," Chuck cursed, as his body fell back against the pillows.
A polished fingernail scraped against the inside of his thigh as she reached down to grab his cock. Chuck relaxed instantly, knowing that she would succeed ... that she would make their union complete ... and he hoped that she, too, would revel in that new, wild closeness.
He heard her cry out as she slid closer to him and worked his cock into her juicing pussy.
Chuck circled her breasts with his fingers and strained to delay the inevitable. But it was inevitable, and a moment later he soared through the darkness, cursing and moaning and fighting to postpone the ebb of such perfection.
"Don't stop now, dammit ... don't stop!" Barbara pistoned her hips as she chased frantically after that moment of her own.
Chuck wiped his brow with his forearm, only vaguely aware of small fists pounding against his bare chest, as his cock slowly spiraled back toward a state of limpness.
He tried again, for her sake, but it was impossible. "I'm sorry, honey ... maybe if you could wait a little while...."
It was as if she hadn't heard him. Writhing and driving her cunt mercilessly she worked atop his body ... in vain.
"Damn you!" She rolled off the sofa and on to her feet.
"I said I'm sorry." Chuck felt the need for sleep deadening his reflexes. Suddenly all the liquor and all the tension was hitting him at once ... He'd never felt so tired in his life.
He was aware of her footsteps then, padding back toward him across the rug. "I said later," he whispered, before he yawned.
"You don't have to do anything. Just lie there...."
The pathetic sound belonged to a tired, pleading stranger, even though he knew it was Barbara ... Barbara who was touching him now ... Barbara who was traveling hungrily over his flesh.
He was tempted to push her away, but the energy to move was just not there. A moment later, warm breasts brushed against, his knees, as she poised on all fours above him.
Chuck smiled, and tried to respond to the new, pleasant sensation that was soothing his body as she blew him. But his cock refused to reawaken, even as her mouth worked to coax it back to life.
He felt himself spinning through a deep darkness, and knew that he might as well give up. From far away, he heard her talking to him . . .whispering obscenities and desires, in an attempt to arouse him from the sleep that approached.
He thought for a second of Vicki, but pushed her face from his mind, too, Tomorrow, he'd make up some excuse or other to placate both of them. Right now, he could concentrate on nothing except the feel of Barbara's tireless mouth on his tired dick.
And the irresistible need to sleep.
CHAPTER FIVE
One A.M. by the diamond-studded wristwatch.
The exodus was beginning. In groups of twos and threes guests drifted slowly, lazily toward the door.
And none too soon for Mary.
She hadn't thought that Chuck would actually go through with it. Not really. Not down deep in her heart. But now she knew it was only futile, wishful thinking that had made her believe in his sense of loyalty and fair play. Even after she'd seen him talking to that blonde girl this afternoon ... and wearing that silly, schoolboy expression on his face.
"Good night, Mary dear ... lovely party."
Mary directed a vacuous nod at the chubby, purple-gray-haired woman who pumped her hand effusively. Carol Lazar was obviously drunk. And the epicene young man she'd brought with her was even drunker. It was a good thing Michael Lazar was out of town on business, Mary thought. Imagine running around with a boy, barely half her own age. Undoubtedly, he was catering to her just for her money. How disgusting. Lucky Carol!
"By the way, where's Chuck?"
The question pierced through 'Mary's polite exterior and snapped her into action. "Oh, he went up to bed a while ago," she answered, a little too glibly. "He was having a terrible headache."
"That's too bad." Carol returned Mary's phony smile and both women conveyed without speaking that the other was a liar.
"Martini, Mrs. Randel?"
Mary jumped at the unexpected closeness of a deep, resonant voice, mellowed gently by a Southern drawl. "No ... thank you." She blinked vacantly up into two, intense blue eyes that had caught her attention several times earlier that evening. The young man smiled courteously and carried his silver tray back to the bar.
Carol Lazar leaned in very close to Mary and winked. "Well, there's always that cute bartender to keep you occupied, dear." Then, chuckling knowingly, she grabbed her bleary-eyed young friend and stumbled with him through the doorway.
Mary stole a look in the bartender's direction, glad that his back was toward her. What a crude thing for Carol to say, she thought. That woman must have had absolutely no breeding before she married into money.
The line of people continued endlessly past her on their way out. Mary kept a polite smile pasted across her face as she accepted their compliments and expressed her unfelt gratitude. After what seemed like hours, she glanced across the room and was relieved to see that only a very few guests remained.
"Martini, Mrs. Randel?"
This time she did not jump. Turning gracefully, Mary faced the young man and accepted a cool, stemmed glass from the tray. Her eyes lingered on his black, curly hair as she thanked him for bringing her a drink. Another couple approached, then to say goodbye.
She should have confronted Chuck with her suspicions right after he'd fucked her, Mary decided, as she allowed some man or other to kiss her cheek antiseptically before departing. She should have had the courage to tell her husband exactly what she thought ... that he'd been buttering her up ... soft-soaping her so that she'd be blind to his lecherous designs on the florist's wife.
Yes, she should have stopped him, right then and there. But she hadn't the courage to risk losing him ... or the strength to face the truth. Now it was too late. And for all she knew, at that very moment, Chuck might be....
"Would you care for a canape?" The bartender was standing beside her again with another tray. "I put these up myself."
Mary lifted a triangle of bread and heaven-only-knew-what to her lips. She felt that the boy was lingering, waiting for her approval. "Very good," she commented, even though the gin had deadened her taste buds. But the smile of appreciation he gave her made her glad she'd told the lie.
The last of the martini went down and hit hard. Mary walked unsteadily toward the sofa and plopped herself onto it. She'd half-hoped the liquor would take her mind off Chuck, but it hadn't Instead, the truth was inescapable.
Was he conceited enough to think he was fooling her, she wondered. Did he honestly hope to get away, unnoticed, with this amateur attempt at adultery? The least he might have done was to be discrete enough to keep the other woman away from his home and wife.
Nonsense. Mary had to be honest with herself. She would have fallen for any of Chuck's excuses. Eventually, she would have even allowed herself to believe that the corsage delivery was nothing more than coincidence, too. He would have gotten away with everything ... if Barbara Ashley hadn't called him, after she'd gone home.
Mary wondered, then, why she hadn't taken that call herself. Barbara was young enough to scare easily. A few, well-chosen words from Chuck's wife and the girl would had fled like a frightened puppy.
And yet, Mary had instructed the maid to go and find Chuck. Why, she asked herself, again? Was she purposely trying to hurt herself?
Of course not, Mary answered her own question. She'd been testing him ... hoping desperately that her instincts had been all wrong. By letting him take that call, she'd given Chuck a last chance to prove his innocence.
And he'd failed, miserably.
She'd never thought a thing like that could happen to her. Mary laughed bitterly at that idea. Funny, she told herself, how the old cliches become so meaningful when the situation applies personally.
And now, after eighteen years of marriage, she was alone. Finally, her husband had turned to another woman ... Assuming this was the first time!
She'd never thought of that before, and the concept was too upsetting for Mary to handle. Forcing herself not to dwell upon it, she stood up and wandered toward the bar. Her legs felt wobbly and the floor seemed slightly off-level. So what, she told herself. It was her house, wasn't it? And if she wanted to get drunk in it, she had every right to ... especially now.
Her stomach lurched violently with every precarious step. Mary stopped for a moment and closed her eyes. She must get hold of herself, she thought ... before somebody noticed her condition. But somehow, the social amenities had lost their importance. She had been betrayed. And in the final analysis, no one was going to feel the pain but she, herself. To hell with everybody!
"Yes, Mrs. Randel?" The good-looking bartender put down the ice tray he was Filling and waited for her order.
Mary thought of Carol, for a moment, but then pushed the image out of her mind. The two of them weren't at all alike, she promised herself. Carol was coarse, unattractive and out of control. Mary could never make a fool out of herself, that way ... she hoped.
"I think I'd like another one of those wonderful martinis you mix." She heard a velvet quality in her voice and wondered where it came from. She didn't feel the slightest bit pleasant.
"Yes, ma'am!" The bartender grinned and reached for a glass.
Mary watched him work and sensed a tremendous strength lurking beneath that starched white jacket. Chuck used to be like that once, she remembered. That once, and she could remember him like that.
"Lemon or olive?" He was smiling at her.
Mary suddenly felt strange, queasy inside. She didn't know what to make of it. "Oh, anything. Surprise me," she flirted like a schoolgirl.
What in heaven's name was going on, she asked herself. Two minutes ago she had been furious, desolate ... and now, she was acting as if nothing in the world were the matter. It wasn't rational. And yet, she couldn't force herself to turn and walk away from the man who'd suddenly become intriguing to her.
"Here you are. Best in the house." He set the drink down on a napkin and pushed a dish of cheese and crackers alongside. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"
Mary started at the question. It must have been her imagination, she warned herself. But she could have sworn his tone of voice alluded to something much more personal than bartender services.
"What's your name, young man?" Her tone turned suddenly authoritative. She knew she was getting scared.
But he obviously felt no such fear. He answered cordially, "Jim Waverly."
"That is a southern accent, isn't it?" she asked, deciding suddenly that she liked the sound of it ... very charming.
"Yes, ma'am. Alabama."
"It's very nice." Mary glued her eyes to the olive in her glass. "Slow and easy. Very relaxing." She wished she could shut her big mouth. Why was she carrying on with him that way? What was this boy going to think of the lady of the house?
"Thank you, ma'am. That's the way we all are, back home. Slow and easy ... sometimes." He chuckled softly, intimately.
Now what was that supposed to mean, she wondered ... for about two seconds. "Been up here long?" She decided to find out how far he'd go, conversationally.
"About two years," he rested his elbow on the bar top and stared unwaveringly at Mary. "I get to like it more and more every day."
Now that was a line thick enough to hang clothes on, Mary thought. And yet, she couldn't help but feel flattered that he'd bother to flirt with her at all. "Plan to stay?" she asked, to keep conversation flowing.
"If things go well."
Mary lifted the martini quickly to her lips and took a long swallow. She wished she could figure out why she was so damned fascinated by that good-looking brat. What did she care where the guy came from, or what his plans were? After tonight, chances were excellent she'd never see him again. And maybe that was just as well.
"You ought to be more careful with that stuff." He gently removed the empty glass from her grasp. "Too much can really do you in."
"Do I look as if I've had my limit?" Mary heard the coyness in her tone, but couldn't do a thing about it. She was aware now of a strange force ... an urgent need to prove something to herself, to the world!
She didn't know whether to be coy. Maybe he wasn't interested after all, and if that were so, why waste the effort? She'd see soon enough.
And even though her better judgment told her to run, she stood rooted to that spot in front of the bar.
"A woman like you can probably take plenty." Jim winked as he refilled Mary's glass and casually poured himself a shot of rye. "Just like me," he continued. "Don't stop until there's nothing left."
She was tempted to deflate his arrogance with one, decisive remark. But something else, something much stronger than common sense urged her to press on, toward whatever awaited.
She finished the next drink without speaking, aware that Jim was watching her every move-waiting for a signal to proceed or withdraw.
"Perhaps you're right," she went on, hating herself for what she was about to say-for what she was about to do. "I think I have had a little too much at that. I'd better get myself upstairs."
"Would you like some help?" The question sounded as if it had been asked, many times before.
"And what do you think Mister Randel would have to say to that?" Mary couldn't help jabbing at his confident manner.
"He'd never have to find out, if you didn't want him to. He left about an hour ago." Jim obviously had that answer prepared well in advance, too.
"Bad hews travels fast, doesn't it?" Mary muttered as they started together for the door.
The chandelier above the spiral staircase burned her eyes when she looked at it. Mary lowered her glance and wished her head would stop floating. Everything was so uncertain, so distorted. She missed a step, but two strong hands caught about her waist and held her up.
"Easy does it now." Jim's voice had grown noticeably familiar-as if he'd known her for a long time. "You don't want to ruin your evening-"
She couldn't remember navigating the rest of the staircase, but suddenly Mary found herself in the bedroom. She head the door close softly behind her. And lock.
A mixture of fascination and dread rippled along her spine and locked it rigid. She tried, but it was impossible to turn and face him. "This must get to be rather dull for you," she heard herself saying, in a voice that was thick with contempt..
"What do you mean?" Jim approached her, still smiling pleasantly.
"Wealthy, middle-aged women, desperate to-" She couldn't bring herself to continue.
His sweet smile turned to one of vain, smug comprehension. "Relax honey." His voice had lost all trace of servility. Now they were equal. The ubiquitous hunger and lowered Mary to his level. They were colleagues at the bottom of the barrel.
She stared blankly as he approached her. In a moment he'd kiss her, she knew. It was time, now-her last chance, perhaps, to call it off. But she didn't move.
The taste of his lips was fresh and exhilarating. Mary tried, for a moment, to hold herself back-to resist the tumultuous desire that had begun in her cunt.
Mary felt his finger reach for the top of her panties and dive beneath. A frenzied, uncontrollable need shook her entire body as his caress made her squirm happily in the midst of a sudden tide of fresh arousal.
But suddenly he urged her back, away from him. "No sense in mussing up all these clothes," he said, nonchalantly, as he reached for the buckle on his trousers.
Her eyes widened with desire and appreciation as Jim's cock, already hard, sprang into view. Mary took a deep breath and moistened her dry lips with her tongue. This boy was going to quiet the storm within her, she felt sure. And she couIg hardly wait to begin.
He flopped down on his back and patted the bed beside him. "What are you standing all the way over there for?"
Mary hurried to get close to him. Willingly she rolled her body on top of his, as his fingers reached for the clasp on her bra.
The tips of her breasts blossomed to rigid awareness, as he removed her undergarment and rubbed his thumbs across her throbbing nipples. Her groin began a slow rocking motion, and she closed her eyes.
"Nice," Jim murmured, grazing her soft flesh with his mouth. "Very nice."
Mary stretched full length and moved to excite him even further. A moment later her panties were slipped down over her hips, and she lay naked and trembling.
"Stand up," Jim commanded. "I want to look at you. All of you."
Breathless, Mary climbed off the bed and displayed herself before him. She felt something reminiscent of shame color her cheeks, but she was too drunk to pay any attention. All of her was intent now, upon only one thing. And that was getting fucked. The rest of life could wait until morning.
Jim folded his hands behind his head and winked. "Okay, babe-it's yours."
Mary lowered her eyes for a moment, before understanding came. Then quickly, happily, she moved to rejoin him atop the bed.
Her lips traced the outline of his square jaw and lingered on a huge muscle at the side of his neck. The feel of their bodies, pressed full length against each other, was driving her cunt insane with the need to bring an end to her waiting. But that very waiting was the sweetest torture she knew. And gladly, she resolved to endure a few more minutes of it.
"You know what I want," he rasped from deep in his throat.
Mary nodded and reched for him. What else could he want? The same thing she wanted, no doubt.
"Not that way." He pushed her hand away from his flesh and held it fast. Then, slowly, but firmly, he repositioned her-down lower.
Her instincts rebelled, but only for an instant. Caught up in the whirlpool of her own passion, Mary closed her mind to convention and bent over to take his huge organ into her mouth.
His hand remained on her shoulder, guiding her, pacing the rhythm for his enjoyment. "That's good," he crooned, "Don't stop."
Mary tried to match his growing arousal, but she couldn't. There was something else she needed, something closer-something more final.
She began to withdraw, but strong fingers wound into the hair at the nape of her neck and forced her back to him.
"Keep going, baby," he gasped. "Easy now-"
She felt his body arch toward that final moment-and arrive there. Without her.
She moved to satisfy herself. "Was that good?" He held her at arm's length.
"Yes, but-"
"No, honey-no more. Not tonight."
"But what about me?"
"We'll take care of you next time. First we've got some talking to do."
Mary felt her desire start to ebb. His tone of voice was suddenly familiar. And repulsive. "Talk? About what?"
"You want me to stick around, don't you?" He reached for his cigarettes on the night table. "I can't very well have time for this, if I've got to keep working as a waiter."
"So--? " She felt sure she knew what was coming, but she had to hear it from his lips.
"So-" he shrugged. "Maybe it would be a good idea for me to give up my job and find a little apartment close by."
"I'm not stopping you." She stared right at him, holding back her temper with every ounce of self control she possessed.
"I know you're not," he continued, unaware. "But apartments cost money, and-"
"You'd like me to pick up the tab, right?" She finished for him.
"We don't have to put it that way," he smiled, almost sheepishly. "Let's just call it a fair exchange. After all-"
Mary watched her hand snake out and slap him resoundingly across the face. "Get out of here," she hissed, cold-sober, all at once.
"What--? "
"I'll give you five minutes to get dressed and disappear." Her voice rose and filled the room. "And if it takes you one minute longer, I'll have you thrown out-and right into jail."
It was as if she'd pushed the magic button. Jim leapt quickly to life, and right into his clothes.
"It's too bad you feel that way, baby," he said, his hand resting hesitantly on the gold doorknob. "We could have lots of laughs."
"Yes. All at my expense," she spat, tight-lipped.
Mary stared at the door, long after he'd gone, hating him-and herself. But more than both, she despised Chuck.
It was all her husband's fault, she told herself. All of it. Everything she'd done. If not for him, she'd never have seen the hideous side of her personality that had emerged tonight. As long as she remained with him, she knew she'd see it, over and over again.
Much as it hurt her, she knew there was only one thing to be done. SHE MUST LEAVE HIM!
Mary pulled on a robe. Then, very slowly, she walked toward the closet where her set of luggage was stored.
Hot-white-glaring-tortuous sun. The waves rolled and crashed in the distance, out around the edges of his cloudy brain. David kept his eyes tightly shut and tried to drive away those unwanted sounds and sensations. A pounding surf boomed closer and echoed inside his splitting head. Something was sticking to the sides of his body. He was burning-He rolled irritably onto his stomach and couldn't escape in a deeper sleep. The sand scratched his cheek-dry, irritating and gritty, between his teeth. He spat, and retasted the liquor.
And suddenly, he remembered. Last night. The beach. A bottle of gin. He bolted to a sitting position.
His stomach lurched as if it were about to turn him inside out. David's hand flew to cover his eyes and protect them from a white-hot finger of flame that poked mercilessly into his vision. He tried to clear his throat, but he could still taste yesterday's misery-and remember yesterday's words.
And feel yesterday's fury.
He faced away from the sun and opened his eyes very slowly. The horizon at the end of the beach rocked back and forth before settling into a constant line. He thought about gettin up, but decided not to chance it yet.
MAN! WHAT A HANGOVER! David cursed himself angrily as he brushed a million grains of sand from his hair. He glanced sheepishly around him, expecting to encounter a knowing, disapproving stare. But except for a couple of children, the beach was still deserted.
It was a lucky thing he hadn't stumbled across a cop last night, David suddenly realized. In the condition and mood he'd been in, only a miracle could have kept him out of jail. And, as he thought about it, he realized also, that it must have been a miracle that got him to that beach in one piece.
He'd raced his car through the night, heedless of traffic lights or oncoming cars. In his anger, life had diminished in importance. Only revenge mattered. And peace.
But there was no peace. Not even out there, along the water's edge in the moonlight. Wherever he went, he'd pictured Barbara-out whoring around till all hours of the night-flaunting her body in front of dozens of men-with hungry eyes and reaching, clawing fingers-lying to him-pretending to care for him, when all the time she only wanted-WHAT?
He blinked stupidly and tried to figure out the answer to that one. What was it Barbara wanted? What was her motive? Where was the driving force behind her existence?
His head hurt harder. David quickly abandoned that line of conjecture and tried to decide what to do with himself.
People began to amble out onto the sand. Picnic baskets swung down across naked knees. Blankets flapped through the air and settled on the ground. David stretched and lay down flat on his stomach to make plans. He couldn't remember where he'd parked his car, but he didn't give a damn. He had no place to go anyway, he told himself. Except to work.
THE SHOP!
He'd forgotten all about it. Must be long past opening time, David told himself, hurrying up onto all fours.
NO!
The thought was so intense he could almost hear it as a spoken word. To hell with the shop. David fell back down onto his stomach. He wasn't going there today. He'd had enough of those flowers. Let the place rot!
Maybe he should call Barbara, just in case she was worried about him. But even as he thought that, David felt himself begin to fume again. His trip to the beach was all her fault anyhow. If she'd been home, where she belonged, he wouldn't have gotten drunk-or fled his own apartment-or passed out on the sand. Let her suffer, he decided. Just like he was suffering.
He rested his chin on his forearm to brood in comfort. He needed a bath and a change of clothes. Badly. But nothing was worth going back home for. He would not see Barbara he promised himself. Not until he'd made a decision. And not until he'd had his revenge.
A shapely pair of legs entered from the left of his vision and stopped there, posing temptingly. David gazed slowly up the well-rounded calves to the soft thighs above. Despite his fatigue a familiar surge of energy began to flow through his cock.
The girl unfolded a huge towel, and bent to lay it flat on the sand. David took the opportunity to gaze, unnoticed, at her voluptuous hips, covered barely by the bottom of a yellow bathing suit. A nipped-in waist flared out into a smooth, well-tanned back. Two straps crisscrossed over honey-colored shoulders.
And suddenly he wanted to see the rest of her.
She settled herself on the towel, apparently unaware of his attention. She was young-impossibly blonde-and gorgeous!
David looked away, as he felt a different heat rising along the insides of his legs. He felt his beard, scratchy against the skin of his knuckles and figured it wouldn't be much use anyway. He looked like a ass, he felt sure. Messy. Disheveled. What self-respecting woman would be interested in such a guy?
But she was smiling at him! No, he wasn't out of his head, David assured himself. That was definitely a smile-a big, wide, provocative smile. A come-over-here-honey-and-say-hello smile.
So he got to his feet. And walked over. And said hello.
"Well, hello yourself, handsome." Her voice was husky and melodious-and VERY friendly.
David had to tear his eyes away from two huge mounds of flesh that rose and fell beneath the skimpiest halter ever created. "I saw you sitting here-" He found himself suddenly at a loss for words. That body was too much. Unbelievable. Even better from the front than from the back. In all directions, she was the greatest.
WHAT THE HELL WAS WRONG WITH HIM? HE WAS A MARRIED MAN! His conscience screamed indignantly.
But David didn't listen. "-so I thought I'd just introduce myself and see if you wanted some company."
"Love some," she crooned, in that same tone that sent ripples of delight shivering down between David's legs. Then she smiled and made room for him on her towel.
As he sat down beside her, a bare leg brushed against his arm. David knew it was on purpose. This girl wasn't wasting any time. She, too, was looking for a fuck-which was just fine with him.
They made small talk for awhile, but David hardly listened to anything she said. All he could think about was what she'd look like without that bathing suit on-and how he could arrange to find out. The vision made him tremble.
"No, I don't live too far from here at all," Susan was saying. She'd given him her name without the slightest hesitation. "As a matter-of-fact, if you'd rjke to have lunch with me-", "Love to," David jumped at the chance, before she could finish the sentence. Yes, he'd certainly love to have lunch with her at her place. And he knew just what he wanted for dessert, too!
He didn't notice how far or how long they walked. All the way from the beach to the apartment house he was busy listening-not to the words she said, but to the intriguing sound of her voice. Rich, full, mature. And with a passionate quality that made his insides tense with impatience.
"This is it," Susan announced as they entered a small, threadbare living room. "Not much, but I'm only renting it for the summer."
"What are you talking about? It's beautiful!" David sang out, immediately. For in the next room he could see the foot of a bed, protruding into the line of the doorway. A double bed. "It's a great apartment."
He grinned from ear to ear, in Susan's direction, but to no one in particular. Suddenly his senses were sharp again. He felt alert, eager, strangely free-and intent upon only one thing.
"I'm not sure exactly what's in the ice box-" Susan started to say.
Until David grabbed her by the arm and pulled her roughly against him. He only half-thought about what he was doing as he ground his lips savagely down on hers and buried the tips of his fingers in her soft hips.
She moaned throatily in his arms and began to twist her belly slowly. David smiled to himself and pulled her even closer. He'd been right. She didn't really want to give him lunch. But what she did want to give him was a body filled with unfulfilled passion.
He took a deep breath and savored the musky odor of her body. Strong perfume mixed with the thick sweet aroma of her tanning oil and made his senses reel. The girl in his arms was all woman. Strange. Ripe. Unexplored. And all his, until he'd had his fill.
"You move fast, baby-don't you?" She sighed against his neck and reached for the buttons on his shirt.
David caught her hands and forced them down against her sides. This was going to be his party, he promised himself. All his. He'd call the moves and set the pace. And she'd better know it from the start.
"That's just fine with me, honey," Susan whispered, when David had made those intentions clear. "I just thought you'd like some help."
"That kind of help I don't need," he rasped, as desire dried his throat and swelled his tongue.
She turned and sauntered toward the bedroom. David watched her every movement, and feasted on the sight of a dimpled ass, straining beneath that thin bikini she wore. And suddenly, he knew what he wanted to do.
He felt almost weightless as he reached after her and slid his arms around to the front of her body. Susan leaned back to tease him but David had no intentions of wasting any more time. With one deft movement, his fingers found the waistband of her suit-and slid beneath to the silky hair on her pussy.
She sucked her breath in and started to sway in his arms. David pulled her back to lean against him while his fingers toyed with her cunt flesh and set her to writhing, gasping arousal.
"Mavbe I should get rid of the suit altogether?' she asked, hardly able to form the words.
"I said I'd take care of that," David announced. Then he led her to the bed and sat down.
She slithered her knees in between his and stood, facing him. David reached forward and closed his hands over her tempting breasts. Through the material of her suit, he felt her nipples harden and inch forward.
"Take that off." He ordered.
And she obeyed. Instantly.
Her heavy breasts fell free and swayed invitingly before him. David ran the tip of his finger down warm flesh and on to a deep, purple point. Its blunt edge darted out between his fingers, and he squeezed.
"Ummm, that feels good." She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.
David drew her body toward him and pressed his lips to her hungry flesh. It smelled of salt and sand and wild, wonderful escape-and he fed himself until another need impelled him to action.
He pressed his palms to her waist and ran them down over the curve of her hips. He felt her trembling and knew what she wanted. But now, it was his turn to tease-his turn to have all the fun-and he had no intentions of passing up a good thing.
Her cunt was moist and soft to the touch. David ran one finger up and down her leg just teasing her cunt, chuckling to himself as she twitched with increased desire.
"Take my clothes off-all of them." He didn't recognize the authoritative tone, even though he knew it was himself who had spoken.
But Susan didn't question, and before he knew it, she was fumbling with the buckle on his trousers.
The pillow felt soft and good beneath his head. David lay back and watched her slide his shorts down and throw them on to the floor. Then he stretched out his arms and welcomed her lush body.
Her hair tumbled down over his face as they kissed. David wound his fingers through it and enjoyed its silky feel. His cock churned with the need for release, now, but he held himself in check. There was yet once more thing that he wanted--.
He forced her mouth away from his and down across his flesh. Susan complied willingly and devoured every inch of him with hot, moist, expert lips including his rigid dick.
And then it tensed and his spine arched upward. David tried to stop himself-to stall for just another few minutes-but there was no turning back.
He closed his eyes and let the world spin crazily out of control. Higher-faster-he raced-whirling and gasping and straining to rid himself of all that had been pent up within his soul. He blew load after hot burning load of milky come into her mouth.
But when it was over, he still needed more-
"Man, you are a tiger-" Susan commented, as she nestled restlessly in his arms.
David smiled to himself, aware of the tension that still plagued her flesh. Happily, he reached down and knotted his fingers around the waistband of her suit.
He lifted her hips to help him, gut it was too late. In his eagerness to undress her, David ripped the material. He was about to apologize, but the sight of her total nakedness and vulnerability rendered him speechless.
She lay there smiling, with her eyes closed. David reached over and brushed away a lock of hair that clung to her damp forehead. He saw the smear of lipstick that had once been her mouth and smiled, that was nothing, he told himself. Now he was really in the mood to do some damage.
He fucked her, quickly and roughly. Susan yielded to him and squeezed her knees against his glistening torso. Old springs whined and creaked beneath their racing bodies, as he lunged into her pussy faster and faster.
David dug his fingers into the soft flesh beneath her hips and held her to him. He felt her squirm and try to escape, and suddenly he was pounding her body mercilessly with his own forcing her to move faster-harder-violently over the edge.
And then they came together.
They rolled together across the damp sheets, wrapped in each other's arms. David heard her sigh contentedly. But suddenly he couldn't have cared less.
It was no good. Something was gone now. And he wanted to get away.
"What's the rush, honey?" Her speech was slurred and thickened with fatigue. "Come on-let's do it again."
David didn't bother to answer. Instead, he pulled on his trousers and searched the floor for the rest of his clothes.
Her curiosity turned to pouting annoyance-and then to anger. David heard her cursing after him, even as he walked down the hall. But still, he didn't care. Susan had served her purpose. He had no further use for her. And by tomorrow, he knew she wouldn't even remember his name.
The sun was hotter when he walked back on the street, but David hardly felt it. A strength of purpose gave a quickness to his step and a direction to his mood. He felt, strangely enough, as if he'd finally done something that he'd always wanted to do. And by doing it, he'd learned that another woman wasn't the answer.
No doubt about it, he repeated to himself, as he waited for the light to change. Susan or any other strange woman wouldn't solve the problem or fill the gap. Once the sex was over, there was nothing left.
And that was enough to prove to him that he was still involved with his wife. Maybe it was love. Or maybe it was habit. But in either case, David decided, he wouldn't feel complete without Barbara.
And then he knew, that even if it took every ounce of energy he possessed, he must make things right between them again. At all costs, he would find a compromise and go back to his wife.
If he still had a wife to go back to.
And if she would even look at him when, and if, he did go back. There was no doubt in his mind, however that there would most certainly have to be some changes in her attitude as well as his.
Or else, there was really no use.
CHAPTER FIVE
Her body was one huge ache.
The light of morning nagged at her eyes.
Scowling in her sleep, Barbara rolled over and sought refuge against the warm flesh beside her in the bed. Anything to escape painful thought-to escape unbearable awareness-to escape that lonesome, futile sensation that had begun to drag at her soul.
Sleepy fingers inched up over her bare belly and settled on her breast. A fluttery reflex tingled through her flesh and began to lift her toward wakefulness.
She didn't want to wake up. Not ever. She was too tired.
But that hand-it was doing things to her. Nice things. Maddening things. And she knew she didn't want it to stop.
Sliding closer, she sighed and reached for the fingers that teased now, at the curve of her hip. Without asking, she guided them down to where they would do the most good.
The fingers gripped and thrilled. Barbara bit her lower lip and opened her eyes. She had to fuck David now. right away. Before they had the chance to start fighting again.
"What do you look so surprised about?" the strange voice asked. "Don't tell me you don't remember last night."
Barbara stared for a long moment as memory returned. Then, sickened and miserable, she turned and buried her face in the pillow.
"Come on now, honey," Chuck coaxed above her. "It isn't that bad, is it?"
Barbara couldn't stop the hot tears that flowed on to the pillow. She felt sick, ashamed, miserable. And more than anything else, she hated the man that rubbed his hand, now, down across the rounded mounds of her ass.
"What's the sense of getting all worked up?" Chuck continued. "We had a good time, didn't we?"
The fury exploded inside her. "You mean YOU had a good time!" Barbara snapped. "You didn't give a damn about me."
She felt his body tense and his hand withdraw. "I'm sorry," his voice was soft. "I was pretty drunk."
"Good for you," she growled bitterly. It wasn't important anymore whether or not she alienated Chuck's affections. He'd failed her too. In the same old way. As far as she was concerned, she'd be happy never to see him again.
"What time is it?" she asked, after a long silence.
Chuck turned to glance at the clock. "Early. Very early. Seven-thirty."
Barbara nodded and closed her eyes. If only she could fall back to sleep and wake up a million miles away. But that was only childish wishing, she knew. The same old need to run-and that never solved anything.
The hand returned again, resting this time at the outside of her thigh. "I wish you'd let me make up to you for last night," Chuck said. He looked hard at her.
Barbara didn't answer. The memory of last night's agonized frustration set her jaw tightly closed. She remembered what she'd gone through-the terrible, revolting things she'd done-things she'd never have considered with anybody but Dave-the tricks she'd used to arouse Chuck again-and all in vain.
He'd left her trembling and weeping above his unconscious body. And when he'd finally followed her into bed, she'd lost all hope of satisfaction.
And yet now, as he rubbed his palm up over her hip and under her breast, Barbara couldn't deny the feeling of desire that began to play over her naked flesh. She wondered briefly if she'd ever learned her lesson.
"I promise I won't conk out on you this time, Chuck coaxed, warm and softly against her ear. "It could be great for both of us, now."
Barbara didn't answer. She couldn't. She felt his lips against her neck, and still she remained, unmoving. She wanted desperately to leave, to push him off. But the sensation of hands on her flesh and the weight of her thoughts immobilized her.
He apparently interpreted her silence as assent, for a moment later Chuck reached around and began to stroke the tips of her breasts to life.
Barbara closed her eyes and thought fleetingly of David. He'd obviously been out the whole night. She wondered where he'd gone. But not for long. It didn't really matter. The important thing was that he'd walked out on her, and chosen to let her fend for herself until he returned. Desertion. That was the only word for it.
And then, so as not to think about it any more, she turned over and kissed Chuck full on the mouth.
His cock came instantly to life and he stretched full length against her. "That's much better, baby," he whispered, rubbing his cock against her cunt and inflaming them both.
Barbara took a deep breath and tried. She remembered how excited she'd been last night and waited for that intensity of arousal to return.
But something was wrong. This was no good. Nothing marvelous was happening.
Maybe it was because she was sober now. She invented an excuse for herself. But she knew that wasn't the real reason. A man was a man, she'd always thought. And she had one, now, right in her bed-exploring her pussy-kissing her hair-inviting her body with his to another flight into soaring, wonderful release.
"That's it, honey-stay close." Check's voice was thick with lust as he worked to bring himself closer to the end.
Barbara wrapped her arms around his neck and tried her hardest to absorb and share his excitement. Rubbing and straining, she tried to will herself toward that state of hunger that would block out all other thoughts.
And still it wasn't happening.
"I think we'd better forget it," she said. "It's just not right, today."
But her words fell on deaf ears.
Imprisoning her shoulders between his fingers, Chuck forced her onto her back and rolled on top of her. "Come on, doll," he hissed, between clenched teeth, "Make it good for me."
She tried to push him away, but his weight was crushing. Barbara fought off a wave of nausea as he moved to possess her-as he forced her to help him achieve a happiness that was impossible for her.
She would have liked to kiss him. To destroy him completely and rid the world of one more selfish, thoughtless, despicable human being. But Barbara was sensible enough to know that in Chuck's condition there was nothing she could doexcept permit-
And so, once more, she went into her act-that horrible travesty of passion that she'd so often had to use with David.
Chuck fell for it. Completely. And in a few moments, he was through with her.
"I think you'd better go now." Barbara's tone was dull, lifeless-like the rest of her at that moment.
He didn't answer. With one short, agreeable nod, he got out of bed and walked toward the living room to hunt for his clothes.
So that was it, Barbara told herself bitterly, the big affair. One more guy that hadn't made her happy. The great escape! The flight into wild, sensual abandon and ecstatic release-
Another dud.
And much worse than David.
She paused at that thought. It had never occurred to her that anyone could be worse than David in bed. Frustration was frustration. But today was agony.
She heard the door close quietly out front, and felt thankful that Chuck hadn't bothered to say good-bye. She wondered if he knew the contempt she felt for him at that moment. Probably not, she decided. Chuck wasn't the perceptive type. He was an animal. In the most uncomplimentary sense of the word.
She dragged her legs over the side of the bed and stared dumbly at the clock. Eight-ten. A new day. Time to get up and go. But where?
The cold water from the bathroom faucet helped a little, but not much. In her mind, Barbara was still debating with herself whether to wait for David, or to go into the shop.
The answer came quickly and with it, a strange, wonderful feeling of confidence. There was no sense in sitting around just for an argument. And the chances of David going into work today were pretty slim.
It was really very simple, Barbara decided. Somebody had to run that shop, and it might as well be she. Whether or not she'd ever set foot in there again after today was another question. But until she and David settled matters, one way or another, she was going to have to make her own decisions and watch out for herself.
And once she got used to assuming such responsibility, she could tell that cold-fish husband of hers where to go, without dropping dead from the fright of being alone.
He'd proven something, now hadn't he?
No doubt about it, Chuck assured himself again. Mary had been wrong. Dead wrong. He hadn't bitten off more than he could chew. And his doubts and fears had been unjustified as well. He wasn't an old man. Not by any stretch of the imagination. And thanks to Barbara, he knew it for sure now.
Or did he?
A nagging finger of doubt toyed with his self-confidence and made him wonder. In the back of his mind the question still remained-that little sixth sense that whispered to him of possible failure.
Had he really satisfied Barbara?
Of course, he insisted to himself. She'd had herself a grand old time. Well, maybe not last night, but certainly this morning. And last night wasn't his fault, anyhow. He'd been drunk. Too drunk. And she'd been too eager.
Yet, he still had the distinct impression that she hadn't been altogether pleased with his performance today either.
He steered his car around a corner and sped down the block. The trouble was, Chuck told himself, that he was used to women like Mary and Vicki-fawning, obsequious women who judged everything by sex. They had spoiled him into thinking that all women had to pass judgment in bed after the act was over. And that if he wasn't showered with compliments, it meant he hadn't made them happy.
Well, Barbara was just different, Chuck insisted silently. And thank goodness for that difference! She was young, vital, alive. To her, physical satisfaction was no big deal. It happened all the time, and easily. She was impressed with other things.
Yes, of course, Chuck continued to encourage himself. It was his dignity and maturity that impressed girls like Barbara. That he was good in bed was only to be expected. What Barbara saw in him was a man with experience-somebody to lean on, to go to for advice-somebody to respect.
And that made him feel better. Yes, everything had been satisfactory, Chuck decided. More than satisfactory. It had been great. And if he had anything to say about it, he and Barbara would just go on and on making each other happy. And to hell with anybody who didn't understand!
He drove along for awhile, and tried his hardest to think only positive thoughts. But still, the hardest to think only positive thoughts. But still, the merest possibility that he might be kidding himself about Barbara was enough to keep him uncomfortable. And finally he decided that there was only one way to make absolutely sure. He would call her.
But not from the house, Chuck told himself, as he drove on by. The chances of Marv overhearing or interrupting him were too good. He'd call Barbara from his office, where he could speak freely-and arrange their next meeting.
As he pulled up to the curb, Chuck spotted a familiar car parked out front-with an even more familiar driver. He thought of speeding away, but it was too late. He was sure she'd spotted him. And now Vicki was undoubtedly waiting for an explanation.
"Good morning." Chuck smiled stiffly and avoided her accusing eyes. He wished he'd had some time to concoct an excuse. "What are you doing here on a Sunday?"
"I was hoping you'd show up." Vicki lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. She made no move to get out of the car.
Chuck could see that her hand was shaking. He leaned against the car door and searched his mind for the right thing to saythe well chosen, sweet words that would placate the woman and get her quickly away-so that he could call Barbara. "I'm sorry," he began. "I know I'm a bastard for not showing up last night." Maybe if he appeared truly and deeply repentant she'd forget to be angry.
"That goes without saying." Vicki's tone was dry, nasty. Her eyes gleamed with a savage, animal fury. But soon that gleam dulled to simple deep hurt.
Chuck had never seen her so aloof. And he didn't like it. Not one bit. "I already said I'm sorry," he went on. He'd fix her, he told himself. If she thought she was going to pull a haughty attitude on him, she was in for a shock. Within five minutes, she'd be begging him to take her inside and show her a good time. Just like always. Women never changed.
"I just wanted to make sure that nothing happened to you." Vicki broke into his thoughts. "I don't really care about anything else."
"And what's that supposed to mean?" Chuck turned on the threatening tone that had always intimidated her.
"Nothing" Vicki shrugged. "As long as you're not lying someplace in a ditch. The rest doesn't matter much, now, does it?" She leaned forward and started the car's engine.
"Where are you going? Chuck asked. He couldn't let her leave without having the final word.
"That, dear, is none of your damned business." Vicki smiled brazenly, flaunting her emancipation. Then, without another word, she drove off and left him standing there.
He stared, dumbfounded, after the disappearing automobile. "Damn her!" He cursed aloud, as the reality of the situation occurred to him. But then he smiled confidently. She'd be back, Chuck promised himself. That little speech was nothing more than a good act. And when she returned, he'd make her eat those words, she'd find out how much she needed him!
Besides, Chuck added silently, as he unlocked the office door, he didn't need Vicki anymore. He didn't need anybody, so long as he had Barbara.
The phone at the other end of the line rang for a long time without being answered. Chuck slammed the receiver down and stormed out of the office. Where the hell was that girl anyhow? Why hadn't Barbara been there to speak with him-to assure him that everything was all right?"
Then, suddenly, Chuck stopped and willed himself calm. The answer was simple. Barbara was, most likely, sound asleep. That's why she hadn't answered. After all, he'd really given her a work out, hadn't he? Of course. No wonder she was tired.
He got back into his car, feeling better, and headed toward home. He'd call Barbara later. Chuck decided. For now, he must concentrate on a good story to tell Mary-one that would explain his absence, all night, without really explaining it at all.
He'd begun to worry by the time he pulled up to the house. But when he saw the maid opening the front door for him, his confidence returned. Things were the same as always. And Mary would probably be so happy and grateful to see him home again, that she wouldn't give him a hard time about being gone. "Where's, uhm, Mrs. Randel?" Chuck asked, when he'd walked into the house
"I don't know, sir." The maid didn't meet his eyes.
Chuck knew she was hiding something. "What do you mean, you don't know?" His voice grew louder. "Didn't she say anything when she left?"
"I don't know, sir." The maid didn't meet his eyes--.
Chuck knew she was hiding something. "What do you mean, you don't know?" His voice grew louder. "Didn't she say anything when she left?"
The girl smiled sheepishly and closed the door. Then, as if afraid of being overheard, she stepped a little closer and dropped her voice. "She had her bags with her," the girl said, "But I really don't know where she went."
Chuck took the steps two at a time and headed for the closet in the upsairs hall. Sure enough, Mary's luggage was gone. He raced to her bureau and pulled open the drawers. Half of her clothing was missing.
WHAT THE HELL WAS SHE TRYING TO PULL?
The panic pounded through his skull. Mary wouldn't leave him. She couldn't. Not after all these years. Not after all the time he'd invested-not with all that money.
No, she'd come back, Chuck doggedly told himself. On her hands and knees. Begging him to take her. Begging him to possess her body and make her happy as only he could.
He ran for the telephone and dialed Barbara's number. Again, no answer. Trembling and cursing, Chuck walked back downstairs and called for the maid.
"Yes, Mister Randel?" She kept her distance now, as if expecting to be attacked.
"Find me the number of the flower shop that Mrs. Randel uses," he ordered.
In a few moments, the girl returned, with a little slip of white paper.
"Plaza Flower Shop, good morning."
Chuck sighed with relief at the sound of the familiar voiceBarbara's voice. "You had me scared there," he began. "I've been trying to reach you at home."
"You needn't bother." The voice was cold, withdrawn.
"Barbara, honey-what are you talking about?"
"I have a customer, sir. Would you care to call back?"
Her business-like tone was like a knife in his belly. "All rich," Chuck said feebly. "I'll call back." He lowered the receiver.
Her attitude had to be for that customer's benefit, Chuck assured himself. Or maybe her husband was there. Yes, that was it. Her husband. She hadn't been free to talk.
Five minutes felt like five days. Ripping his attention from the second hand on his watch, Chuck lifted the receiver and dialed again. "Barbara?"
"Yes, Chuck. What do you want?"
"What kind of question is that to ask?"
"Look," she sighed, as if trying to think of how best to say what was on her mind. "I'll give it to you straight, Chuck. It's no good."
"What's no good?" He felt the sweat breaking out in sticky little beads all over his body. The world was deserting him. It wasn't fair.
"Last night and this morning," Barbara went on. "I don't want any repetitions. Now do you understand?"
"Sure, honey, sure." Chuck smiled. So that was it. She just wanted him to do a little better in bed. Well, he'd be glad to. And he told her so.
"No, that's not what I mean at all." She paused again.
And Chuck heard her exhale tiredly.
"I-don't want-to-see you anymore."
"What?"
"That's all, Chuck. Now let's not tie up this phone, please. It's a business line." And she hung up.
Chuck stared stupidly ahead of him. This wasn't happening. It must be the world's worst hangover. His women couldn't have all run out.
CHAPTER SIX
Mary parked her car near the boardwalk and turned off the powerful engine. She didn't know why she'd driven out there. She'd always disliked the beach. Hot. Crowded. Common. And yet, she'd gone to that place to make the most important decision of her life.
The waves leapt high and a morning sun threatened to scorch the world within an hour. Mary leaned over the rail and gazed out across the white sand. How many women had found themselves where she was now, she wondered ... trembling at a precarious edge of awareness ... quaking at the prospect of having to view themselves honestly ... and worst of all, knowing that if they were to survive, they must also reappraise the ones they loved ... or thought they loved.
She couldn't be that unique, Mary decided. There must be plenty of women who'd gone through the same thing ... and lived.
That made her feel a little better. Almost as if she weren't really alone with her dilemma. As if, perhaps for the first time, she was experiencing a slice of life not intended exclusively for the rich.
There was no denying that money had a great deal to do with it. Mary had to admit the distasteful truth. She'd bought Carl, from the very beginning. And she'd been paying for him ever since.
But now, the price had grown too steep.
It was one thing to tolerate his disinterest in social events, she told herself, as she fought the wind to light a cigarette. And even his lackadaisical way of fucking was bearable, as long as there were other things in her life to divert her energies. But to stand silently by, while he slept around with other women ... girls ... was asking more than the greatest love in the world could withstand.
There was no two ways about it, Mary repeated to herself. She absolutely refused to share her husband. With anybody. She'd rather leave him than have to do that.
Even the thought of it, so strong and clear in her mind, was enough to send a fearful shiver through every pore of Mary's body. Leave Chuck? The mere idea of it felt like a threat to her very life. And yet, she knew deep down that continuing under present conditions was worse than making the break.
As the beach began to fill with Sunday bathers, Mary found herself beginning to relax. Perhaps it was the calm before the storm, she thought. Of after. In any event, she was too tired to become hysterical. She'd gone through all of that last night. Now she must think rationally and coolly ... something she'd never done, about her husband.
A feeling of shame crept through her and made her scowl at her own weakness. Not only because of what she'd done with that bartender, but for what she'd done afterward. She'd run ... just like the coward she was ... the coward she'd always been ... unable to face Chuck, or herself, with the truth. So she'd packed her bags and fled ... without even leaving a note.
How stupid, she told herself, as she watched her cigarette butt choke in the sand below her. This was no way to handle anything. She was supposedly an adult. Why didn't she act like one? .
The answer was simple. She was just plain scared. Scared of being alone ... scared of breaking old habits and routines ... scared of losing Chuck.
But what was there to lose, a voice of protest screamed inside her. If the marriage was over, she'd already lost everything. What further harm was there in getting it all out in the open, once and for all?
Mary didn't know where the courage had come from ... or whether it was, indeed courage, that turned her around and impelled her back to the car. All the way home she wondered what she was going to do when she got there, assuming Chuck was on hand to meet her ... or even if he wasn't.
But when she pulled into the driveway, she saw his car in front of the door. And she knew that the pattern of her life was to be set finally, within he next few minutes.
"Is Mister Randel home?" Mary tried her hardest to face the maid with dignity. What a fool she must look in the girl's eyes ... running out with her bags packed, and returning a few hours later. But what of it, Mary told herself. She was the only one who mattered now.
Public appearances weren't worth a damn, in the long run.
"He's upstairs, I believe." The girl smiled.
And suddenly Mary realized that the maid was glad to see her back. It was a good feeling.
"Who's there?" The voice called from the top of the stairs.
Mary held up her hand to silence the maid before she could answer. "I'll take care of this myself," she whispered. And then she headed for the staircase, and walked unfalteringly up to the second floor.
She thought she saw an instant of relief and happiness in Chuck's eyes, but she couldn't be sure. Mary decided, then, to deal only with facts. There was no point in letting her emotions sway her good judgment. She'd had eighteen years of making that mistake.
"Where were you?" Chuck asked.
Mary didn't answer. She didn't even look at him. Instead, she walked directly into the bedroom, and waited until she heard the door close.
But when she turned around, she was shocked at the sight of her husband. Deep circles stained his cheeks. His eyes were red and swollen, as if he'd been crying. For a moment, she felt very sorry for him ... and very concerned.
But she forced such feelings away and willed her voice calm. "I went for a long ride." It sounded dramatic, she knew, but Mary couldn't help it. All she wanted now was to end their discussion, one way or another, as quickly as possible. Then she'd know where she stood at last.
"I noticed that you packed your bags."
"I was very upset." She looked away from him, but only for a moment. "The point is that I'm back now, and I want to settle something between us."
Chuck sat down on the edge of the bed, and sighed loudly. His shoulders drooped and his entire body seemed to shrivel. He looked very tired. Almost beaten.
Mary walked across the room and pulled a cigarette out of the box on her dresser. Her instincts demanded that she throw her arms around the man and tell him that everything was all right ... that she comfort him and promise to watch over him, no matter what was wrong.
No. Not this time, she vowed silently. She'd had enough of making things soft for that irresponsible husband. She'd had enough of molding a husband out of a jelly fish. From now on, he'd have to stand ... or fall, on his own.
"Do we have to hash everything out now, Mary?" Chuck's voice was tired and dry.
"I'm afraid so." Mary wasn't about to let him avoid her any more. It was time to take a stand. "I know about you and Barbara Ashley," she began.
Chuck rose instantly and began to pace the rug. "I don't want to talk about it," he declared. "If it'll make you feel any better, that's all over. I won't be seeing her any more."
"That's not the point." Mary remained in front of the dresser, following Chuck's every move with clear, piercing eyes. "The fact is that you did sleep with her ... well, didn't you?"
"All right, so I did. But that doesn't mean...."
"It means, simply, that I'm not enough for you. And if that's the case, we'd better end this ... this marriage of convenience." A jolt of pain raked her insides at those words. Mary grabbed the edge of the dresser. What the hell, she told herself. It was out. Now the worst was over. From here on in, it was down-hill.
Chuck fell onto the bed and stared, unseeing, at the ceiling. After a long time, he spoke. "I ... I don't know what to say." His words seemed to come from a great distance, and with much pain.
Mary watched him intently, still forcing herself not to help him ... not to make reconciliation an easy thing. He'd have to patch things up, or mess things up all alone. And suddenly, she realized that she didn't care particularly what the results were ... so long as they were definite and binding.
"Just say what you think," she commented, as Chuck continued to falter. "I'm sure that will suffice."
He turned suddenly to face her.
Mary didn't believe what she saw. Chuck Randel ... crying? Impossible!
"Stop that!" she ordered, loudly. "Act like a man!"
Chuck rolled over and lay sobbing on the bed for a long time. Then finally, he sat up and faced his wife. "I need you, Mary," he said simply.
"The hell you do." She laughed derisively. Where did he get the gall to try that same kind of crap on her again? "You need the money I can give you," she spat. "And this house ... and that facade of a real-estate business that's never made a dime. But you don't need me."
Chuck stared blankly at her. Shock and disbelief at what he was hearing altered his features and widened his eyes into huge, frightened mirrors of his soul. "That's not true!" He tried to interrupt her. "You should know that...."
"I know that you're a phony, and that's enough." Mary's voice was menacingly soft and tremulous. "And I know what I'm not going to pay for your cheap little affairs. If you want to be a whoremaster, pick up your own tab."
Chuck reached for a cigarette and puffed nervously. "You seem to think everything's my fault," he said, slowly. "Did you ever stop to consider that maybe you had something to do with my wanting Barbara?"
"And just what did you want her for?" Mary shot at him. "To prove to yourself that you're still a college man?" She saw the hatred and pain flash across his face, but she couldn't stop herself. She'd been waiting too long to be honest. And now it was more of a relief than a chore. "Well you're not. I'm not twenty-one anymore, either, you know. But I can live with it. And I should hope you can, too."
"I'm tired of trying to make love to a statue!" Chuck shouted. "I'm sick of being treated like another one of your possessions or servants! I won't hop into the sack every time you snap your fingers!"
"Then why don't you just beat me to the draw?" Mary raised a challenging eyebrow. And then she waited trembling, suspended in time, while she watched Chuck make up his mind.
