Slowly, Iris raised Helen's hand to her lips and touched it lightly with a kiss. "I'm in love with you, little one," she murmured. "I have been, I think, since the first time I saw you."
Helen let her breath go in a long, contented sigh.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Iris questioned her.
"That's known as a sigh of relief, and may I point out to you, now that you've confessed, that you haven't even kissed me good morning?"
She leaned toward Iris and reach out to touch her hair, her face.
Iris' arms went around her, holding her tight pushing her back against the pillows. Her tongue teased her earlobe, the hollow of her neck.
She heard herself whispering, "I want you, I want you."
Iris was naked and upon her. Helen closed her eyes and waited, feeling the warm glow spreading out from her mid-section.
Then Iris' red lips, the hot moist mouth, found a breast and the tongue teased the taut nipple. Helen gasped and arched her body upward. They melted together, kissing caressing, stroking each other all over. Thus they loved till they stiffened in their moments and arched their bodies hard against each other in fulfillment ... as they kissed in their deepest passions.
CHAPTER ONE
"What can I offer you, Elinor?"
"My dear, you know exactly what you can offer me, a nice tall cool drink....for now."
"Coming right up, that's exactly what you'll get......for the time being, anyway," Iris answered, and going into the kitchen to mix them.
When they were made, she offered one to the woman Elinor.
"Thank you, dear. I really dig one of these right now."
"They do go down right," Iris replied, seating herself carefully so as not to spill her drink.
They discussed different things, concerning their husbands who worked as a mechanical team unit with a group of auto racers and manufactuers. They spoke of different things and they spoke mainly of marital problems.
For they each had them....serious ones.
The main problem was that they didn't care for their husbands. Of course, one can say that many wives didn't like their husbands, but the ordinary problems didn't apply to Iris and Elinor
....no.
Their situation was far different than that of other dissatisfied wives, in that they didn't care for their husbands as men in themselves.
They....the two wives, preferred women to men.
And so they had entered a liaison with each other, as it was convenient and hey had the excuse and reason as their husbands work brought them together quite often....as they had no problem arranging their trysts.
They were killing an afternoon. Because their husbands were on the road on assignment for an auto company, they were spending days together.
Sipping their drinks, chatting about one thing or the other, .Elinor came over to Iris on the sofa and sat next to her and put her arm about the other woman.
Their thighs pressed together, soft and warm. Elinor kissed her and Iris let her, just sitting there relaxing. She let Elinor stroke her body, sitting quietly. But when she felt a warm palm on her inner thigh above her stocking tops, she began to breathe faster, and her legs spread wider.
She jumped when the hot searching hand gripped her through the panties and she lay back as Elinor squeezed her breasts through her dress.
She started to unbutton the top buttons of her dress when Elinor held her hand still.
"Darling, let me do it. Let me do everything ... okay?"
"Be my guest."
Elinor undressed her slowly, but smoothly. .When Iris lay back on the sofa naked to her avid gaze, Elinor quickly rose and stripped her own clothes, never taking her eyes oil the lovely body lying on the sofa ... watching her undress....and waiting.
When she was also nude' she lowered herself on the other woman, and they embraced, their soft bodies melting against each other.
They kissed ... mouths parted ... and they searched, as they began to rub against each other, and as they did so, they were both becoming aroused ... panting and quivering.
Iris moaned as the other woman lowered her head to her breasts and bgan to nuzzle and kiss them.
As Elinor kissed them, she began stroking the soft belly and squeezing the round soft buttocks.
The lower she kissed, the wider her friend's thighs opened, and by the time she reached the lower body, she was waiting.
When Elinor reached there, Iris gave a shrieking sigh and arched her body upward. She threashed about as she held the other woman by the hair. Then Elinor twisted about so they could each love the other, and in this way they both reached their peak and they loved....their bodies twitching with fulfillment.
They parted, arms about each other loosely, each holding one of her friend's breasts....and in this way, they rested....for a while, anyway.
She realized that the doctor was trying to help her; still her trembling body shuddered with self-guilt.
Guilt for her awful cravings. He put the black instrument bag on the rub. He smiled at her. "Everything will be fine," he said.
He moved closer. "Helen, look at me."
She didn't want to look at him, couldn't look him right in the eyes. She didn't dare, for he would see straight down to where the miserable need that would not go, stirred her even now.
He gripped her shoulders. "Be sensible, now. I've told you a dozen times that these check-ups are routine."
She could feel the heat of his palms through the thin material of her dress. No more danger. He was a doctor. Didn't he suspect the new fear that had come into her life since Jerry's accident?
"He'll be up and at it again before the year's out," he said in a calmer voice. "Absolutely."
She let the breath out slowly, trying to calm herself. "Thank you, Fred," she said.
"Don't thank me. Thank his healthy body."
What could she say now? She couldn't tell him. She hardly dared admit it to herself, the truth about Jerry's physique since the crack up. Yet this truth was making a monster out of her ... filling her nights with insane thoughts and her days with moments like this. Moments that made her battle against the senseless urge to fling her body against the doctor's and press, simply because he was a male.
She felt Fred close behind her. "If you don't get hold of yourself," his voice came over her shoulder, "I'll have two patients instead of one."
She nodded. Why wouldn't he go? Why didn't he just retreat descreetly and leave her alone. What kind of a doctor was he that he didn't sense the real core of the problem?
"Helen?"
She leaned to the edge of the window.
"Sit down beside me."
"It's nothing, Fred. Really," she lied.
Maybe she could still bluff him. "All right, Dr. Olman, where would you like to hold your consultation?"
"Why not...."
His voice was cut off by the far off buzzing of a bell.
Her body surged with relief, "jerry wants me," she said. She knew if she could just get away from Fred for a moment, she might regain control of her senses.
"Go on," he said.
Hurriedly she swept past him. The urge of her desire passed into the sturdy bounce of her walk. The prospect of facing Jerry confronted her like a reckoning with her own conscience. At the threshhold to his bedroom, she paused and smoothed her hands slowly along the outline of her dress, cupping her breasts till the beating of her heart died down. Then she smiled and went inside.
"I didn't hear the door close behind him," Jerry said.
The deep male voice she remembered came from him now. What had once been sunburn had become the yellow complexion of indoors and pain.
"You didn't hear it because he's still in the living room," she said cheerily. "Oh?"
She heard the suspicion in his voice and knew that it covered fear.
"Yes," she said lightly, sitting down on the edge of the bed and resting her hand on his arm
"And he's promised me you'll be up and at it again in no time."
"Sure."
"Jerry, he wouldn't say it if he didn't mean it. Why should he?"
"Typical bedside manner."
"Darling, you're being silly."
"Sure. Believe me, I feel pretty damned silly lying here like a crock having to listen to his baloney."
"Let's not discuss it now," she said. "He might hear you."
Jerry jerked his head away from her lips. "What the hell do I care what he hears?"
"You mustn't upset yourself," she said. She had meant to be gentle, but the words sounded like an order. And she knew that the constant nagging of her body was fast consuming the patience she needed for him.
His voice cut at he like a lash. "I'll get as up set as I damn well want to."
"If you want to lie here and eat yourself up, that's your business," she said. "But I want no part of it." She got off the bed in a quick motion and smoothed back whisps of hair from her forehead. "I'm going to see Fred to the door before he hears what a jerk you're making of yourself."
Without waiting for a reply, she left the room.
When she reached the living room, Fred was tearing a sheet off his prescription pad. J le folded it and placed it on the little end table.
"You fill that," he said, "and take one every night before retiring. It ought to do it."
Without realizing it, she breathed a deep sigh of relief, jerry had at least managed to divert attention away from herself, at least for the time being.
"But I hope," Fred's voice went on, "that you'll drop by my office soon. A routine check wouldn't do you any harm, you know....".
She heard the deep concern in his voice but she knew there was really nothing more to say. And still, there was everything. She wanted to apologize, for her husband and for herself. Rut what were the words to tell Fred of her gratitude?
"You let him complain all he wants," he said. "I know it's hard on you, but just remember it's worse for him. These active types have to let off steam somehow when they're confined. I'd begin to worry if he were quiet."
"Thank you, Fred," she said softly.
He winked at her. "See you two, Friday."
Then he was gone. She turned back slowly to face the large, silent rooms and Jerry's complaints. With a sigh, she went out to the kitchen and busied herself fixing coffee and sandwiches for Jerry's helper and mechanic, expected soon. She was busy preparing when the bell tinkled again. She closed her eyes and gripped her fists. She didn't want to argue with him. She didn't want to hear his cranky voice that made a child out of what had once been her lover.
And yet she had to go to him. For all the arguing and pettiness, he had to know she was there....if only to take whatever nastiness he had in him.
She had promised herself always to remain attractive for him. Regardless. It wasn't necessarily a permanent thing with him, after all. He stood every chance in the world of recovering his masculinity along with his ability to walk once again. She knew this. All she had to do was hang onto her control ... and pray.
"What took you so long? ' he said to her?
"If all you want to do is Tight with me, Jerry, I'm not going to stay here with you. I'm in the middle of fixing a snack for Ralph and Harry."
"Fred gone?"
"Yes."
"You think he heard me?"
She gazed at His gray eyes, limpid now as melting steel, and her heart seemed to grow large inside her chest with aching. "Oh, Jerry....Jerry, darling. I love you so."
She stretched out on the bed, trying not to snuggle too tightly against him. Yet her breasts seemingly with a mind of their own, pressed against his arm, the nipples hardening, yearning toward the thought of his kisses.
"Honey, take it easy." A self-conscious laugh underlined his words.
Instantly she stiffened. "I'm sorry, dear," she said quickly, moving away. "I didn't mean to upset you."
"You just have to take it easy for a while."
"I know it, darling," she murmured. "I don't understand what gets into me sometimes. I only wanted to be close to you, that's all." Her languid tone seemed to wind around him. "Just to hold you...."
"Sure, I know," he said. "It's plenty hard on you. On me, too. you know. I mean, you're not the only one with feelings."
"You want to touch me, don't you, darling?" she said. "You want to hold me." Her lips were moist. "There's nobody in the world I want the n way I want you. Want to kiss you ... love you...."
"Helen, sweet, sure I want you. But not now," he rasped. "Now now."
His harshness whipped her back to reality. Her gaze came back into focus and she saw the tight strained look on his face. The look that meant he didn't feel a thing anymore. Not a flicker. That there was nothing for her but the emptiness she saw in his eyes.
It might last a week ... or two weeks ... or maybe forever. She had no way of knowing what to expect from the future, beyond the strangling hand of desire of her own body. And how could she learn to accept it? After only three months of fulfillment, ho could she be expected to resign herself to a future of chastity?
And yet she loved him as she loved her own life.
"Would you like me to bring you some coffee?" she said, her voice shaking.
"Yeah, that would be nice, honey," he answered, trying to smile at her.
She did not even notice the smile. She was aware only of the relief in his voice, the genuine gladness.
Why doesn't he tell me, she thought? Why doesn't he tell me it's all over with? Maybe, if he would only say something, I could learn to accept it.
Quickly she got up off the bed. It wasn't at all necessary to flaunt her sex desires in front of him. It was only unpleasant for the both of them.
Yet her body felt desolate. Somehow her thighs her hips, her breasts didn't connect up with Tier brain. Didn't hear the thoughts that said there was no use wanting ... that he no longer desired her love and body and there was no point in pushing attentions on him. She was beginning to feel like tw women in one being ... the loving, faithful wife and the sex tramp.
She knew for her own preservation of mind she must accept this. But her body absolutely refused to buy this.
CHAPTER TWO
She tried to keep herself busy so as to cover up her clutching lusts with household duties.
She knew that she must struggle against the un-happiness within her. She pulled the stepladder out of the broom closet and took a bottle of liquor down from the high cupboard. The stuff would steady her nerves. She poured some in a tumbler and downed it quickly. The burning fluid helped. She quivered, then drank some cold water to clear away the heat from her gullet, but she felt more relaxed.
Soon she was humming as she worked.
Later on, the doorbell rang.
She took a deep breath to brace herself and swung open the door. It was Ralph and his wife Iris....two eager faces, waiting for her to cope with them.
"Hello, Helen " Iris kissed her lightly and she smelled the faint aroma of soft perfume, felt the "touch of cool lips.
"Hi, kid," Ralph said, smiling his broad, wide smile.
These two were the first visitors Jerry had been allowed. She hoped that they might not upset him.
The blurred chatter of their voices buzzed around her while she led them into the living room and went to fix things.
Ralph launched into the sandwiches and Iris arranged her lush body on the couch.
"I thought Harry and Elinor would be with you," Helen said as she handed Iris a drink.
"So did we. But they're having troubles and.." Iris finished the sentence with a wave of her hand. Her eyes glittered for a moment with an amusement Helen did not understand.
"Don't listen to her," Ralph mumbled chewing a sandwich. "She's always making a big issue out of nothing."
Helen glanced from one to the other curiously. They seemed an odd couple, not at all suited to each other. Ralph, rough, clumsy, balding. And Iris....cool, sophisticated, aloof. It bothered her vaguely to hear Iris commenting on the private lives of other people. She seemed somehow immune to gossip.
Still, she did not want to probe. She said quietly, "Jerry's up and would like to see you."
Ralph nodded uncertainly and she realized that her words had dropped into a bed of fear. It was as though he had come to pay his last respects rather than just to visit. And although she knew it was simply because every auto racer was constantly plagued by the phantom of death, her throat tightened. She wanted to scream at
'mm to smile. She wanted to shout at him that Jerry would be fine ... That Dr. Fred Olman had said as much.
"Well, come on." She spoke as easily as she could over the tight ball of fire inside her.
When they entered the bedroom, her husband was sitting propped up on the pillows, expectantly a glimmer of life returned to his eyes as he greeted his friend.
"Hi, there, pal," he said hoarsely. He nudged Ralph for a cigarette.
Ralph dropped the pack on the night table at the bed. Then he drew up his chair and lit a cigarette for him.
It wasn't five minutes before the conversation had turned to tracks and the latest models from across the seas.
Helen felt much too upset to listen to shop talk. She stood still for a few minutes, fidgeting inwardly, waiting for a chance to interrupt. Finally she blurted, "If you'll excuse me, I'll bring the drinks in."
She saw Jerry nod absently, then push her even further from his interest with an impatient gesture of his fingers. She sighed and started for the door.
"I'll give you a hand," Iris said with an amused tone. "This tech jazz has me up to here." She moved a pointed fingernail to her throat. "They'll never even notice we're gone."
Helen nodded and managed a cheerful smile. "They're robots, not men."
They moved along the foyer now. She sensed Iris' body beside, yet slightly behind her. It seemed to give off a protecting warmth that made her want to talk, to confide some of the feelings pressing tensely inside. Vet she hardly knew the girl.
"All dedicated people are robots," Iris said, her tone low and casual. In the living room she paused to light a cigarette and Helen noticed the long curve of her thighs outlined by her tight linen skirt.
Iris dropped the used match into an ashtray. "You don't smoke," she said. "How did you know:'"
"I'm the observent type."
"Maybe I ought to learn," Helen said with sudden vehemence. "I always seem to be out of step with everything." Her voice trembled with the violence of her emotion.
Calmly, Iris picked up the liquor bottle and poured them each a drink. "It's pretty hard playing nursemaid, isn't it?" She came over to Helen and put a glass into her hand. "It would get anybody down. That's why I've made my husband promise to quit when he's got enough money saved to buy into a steady business." Helen shook her head slowly. "I don't think I could ever talk Jerry into that. I know he'll be racing again the minute he's able. That's till he thinks about." She swallowed some of the whiskey and savored the taste in her gullet. "But I'll never understand. These men are grown ... how can they get such a thrill out of...."
"Don' try to understand it," Iris interrupted. Her heavy eyelids lowered slightly, casting shadows over her eyes in the growing dusk. ' People get thrills out of odd things."
"It's all too contusing," Helen said feeling the heat in her mouth spread through her body. "If I could only see an end to it ... and answer "
Iris sat down in the reading chair and stretched her tanned legs out in front of her, crossing them at the shapely ankles. "You ought to break it up a little." She gazed at the ice cubes in her glass. "I mean, find some other interests before you get addicted to the strain." She hesitated, then finished her drink in a quick movement.
"I appreciate the advice, Iris, but ... well, you don't just start to take sewing lessons...."
Iris sat up and her wide face showed concern. "I didn't mean it to sound so harsh," she said quietly. "But I guess it does come down to that in the long run. Cruelty. For the time being, though, I'd rather we called it self-preservation ... your's."
She emphasized the word with a strange sincerity that left Helen unable to reply.
"I know what you re thinking," Iris went on, lighting a second cigarette from the first. "You're feeling guilty to be talking about yourself instead of what s happened to Jerry. You're feeling that it isn't right, somehow, to be sick and tired of all this worry."'
"I don't want to discuss it," Helen blurted. Embarrassment echoed in her strained voice. "I'm sorry to snap at you."
"Of course," Iris said in the quiet tone that left no room for argument. "That's why I was doing the talking ... so you wouldn't have to."
Helen swallowed hard and forced herself to search the woman's face. She had never known friendship like this. Nor had she ever needed it before. Jerry had filled her life completely. Fully. He filled it now. Yet the worry and the fear and the loneliness were with her and she dared not deny it. And here was a warm voice, a human spirit who shared almost the same anxieties. Could she accept the friendship? Dare she allow anything to divert her attention from Jerry?
"That's right, honey," Iris' voice interrupted her thoughts, "hook me over. Look to see what kind of person would talk to you like this right in your own home." Her wide lips gave a subtle warmth to her face.
"Why are you saying all this to me, Iris?"
"I don't know."
An impulse to reach out and touch Iris' hand, to comfort in turn this woman who had comforted her had met now with her duty to get back into the bedroom with the refreshments. The alcohol was not stirring well in her brain. Fuzziness where there had once been clarity confused her desires. Strangely, she felt that she was not really wanted there. That certainly, she was not being missed. She imagined Jerry, engrossed in his career world. Recalling past days of blazing glory ... making plans, perhaps hopeless ones.
Reliving for a few precious moments his shattered masculintity ... it was all so utterly beyond her.
She carried her empty glass toward the bottle.
"That's not the answer," Iris said.
Helen felt herself relaxing. "Come on," she said. "I'll fill your glass, too."
They sat for a while, sipping their drinks with-out talking, watching the night scenes across the city. A fragrant breath of fresh air blew in from the park, reminding Helen that there was still another world outside. She had remained indoors for almost a month , calling down for groceries and necessities, sleeping at odd hours of the day or night ... hearing only Jerry's voice, his requests for satisfaction.
"I have been narrow-minded," she said, half to herself. "My own robot of dedication." She smiled wryly. ' But it didn't work out too well."
It helped a little to put the thought into words, and she felt the stirring of hope for the first time in weeks. For it was possible that a change of scene, a change of pace might be all that she needed to check the outrage of desire which burned so irreverantly. It was only natural that her attention should have focused on sex when the was nothing to divert her mind or body from its question.
She stood up suddenly and switched on a table lamp, no longer afraid to face herself and her feelings. She moved easily to the decanter and poured fresh drinks to take to the men. Yet she knew it was only duty that made her do so. She was sick of the smell of medicine and illness.
She turned to find the dark eyes of her new found friend examining her and smiled reassuringly. "Thanks," she said simply. "You've helped me so."
"Anytime," Iris said. She took the tray from Helen and started out to the hall.
Even as she walked toward the bedroom that was no longer hers, really, Helen felt the surge of confidence beginning to wane. After all, what substitute would she be able to find, what substitute could there be for the loss of a husband's body?
She felt old and exhausted. Her legs began to ache with a sense of hopelessness.
What if she did begin to see more of Iris ... more of other people in general? Where would it lead her?
By the time Iris and Ralph had gone, she was thoroughly depressed. She also realized that she was drunk.
She had certainly not intended to lose control of herself. It had crept up on her. She held out her arms to an imaginary partner and began to dance. She felt her breasts swelling inside the bra. The nipples hardening, Dressing against the material almost painfully. She blinked a few times and hummed hoarsely. She leaned her cheek against an imaginary chest and closed her eyes.
Dizziness overwhelmed her. She swallowed hard and spread her legs to keep her balance. Abruptly she stopped and forced her eyes open. Unhooking her dress down the back, she let it fall to the floor and stepped clear. The rayon slip clung to her buttocks like soft hands.
And Jerry, restless asleeep beneath the heavy blanket ... dreaming of his cares. Her Jerry. Her darling, shattered inside this hulk of a man fast "rowing to be a stranger to her.
She was drunk now. She knew this for a fact.
Tiredly, she dragged herself into the bathroom and turned on the cold shower. She pulled off her slip, slid out of her garterbelt and panties. She opened her bra and the heavy breasts sagged unloved . She cupped and lifted them in her palms. The merest touch, even of her own hands, seemed to bring them to life.
She stepped onto the streaming spray and bit her lip as her body began to shiver.
Then she finally came out of the shower, every nerve in her body felt flayed. She patted herself dry and sprinkled powder all over herself.
The sound of Jerry's bell startled her.
"I'll be right with you," she called. There was no robe for her to put on, at the moment. She fastened a towel around her in sarong fashion and tucked the end in tightly between her breasts. Then she padded quickly to him.
The tiny night light beside his bed suffused the room with a soft pink glow.
"I'm thirsty," he mumbled.
She poured cold water from the thermos and leaned over to lift him enough to drink.
Holding the glass with his big hand over hers, he took a lew swallows, then pushed it away. But he continued to hold onto her.
"What's this get-up?" he asked. I just took a bath."
He pulled her closer, his strong fingers twined now around her wrist. "You smell pretty strange for someone who's just taken a bath."
"Must be the powder."
She wanted to back away from his but he clung to her. I don't know what you're talking about unless its the whiskey on my breath."
"Not that, either."
"Well, what else, then?"
T know what it is. damn you."
"He pulled away from her now. She could see his face flexing with anger.
"jerry ... what is it?"
"You know damn well what."
"No, jerry ... I don't." Lying bitch ... whore...."
The words lashed out and she moved away from them. There was no answer to give, no excuse, no denial. Somehow he had managed to discover her difficulty. Only by calling her names could he divert the blame away from himself. She knew she dare not attack or accuse him in return. She stood quite still, waiting for his anger to die down.
"So this is how you promise to love, honor and obey." His voice was deliberately biting. "I do love vou, Jerry."
"Filthy minded...." He sighed with pain at his own exertion. "Tramp."
"I love you, really."
"Running around the house naked, drunk."
"I still love you, Jerry."
"Thinking of ... who the devil know what."
His eyes seemed to bulge with a disgust and hatred she had never seen in him before ... that she had never dreamed he might feel for her.
Yet his disgust was no greater than her own, she thought.
Turning away from his twisted face, she took a nightgown from a bureau of drawer and slipped it on. That it had become necessary to hide her body from him made of their marriage a mockery a shameful thing.
She left him as soon as she could and ran into the living room unseeing, her eyes wet with tears. Their marriage was turning into a bitter gall, and she began to suspect it was her own lusting body that was doing her lascivious physical wants that was destroying them.
CHAPTER THREE
There was little hope now. Tomorrow she would go and see Fred and bring the impossible situation to a head and ask him to help her professionally for it was the last straw.
She and Fred had been friends since they went to the same high school. He had always been someone to depend on in need when she had problems. And that was certain, a fact now. Yet, even as she decided to see him, she was unhappy about it. Her problem was such an intimate one. She could not even bring it up and discuss it with her own husband. How would she discuss it with another man ... even a doctor?
The next morning she steeled herself to go see Fred.
As she moved about in the bedroom, she saw Jerry's reflection in one of the mirrors. This would be the first time that she would leave him alone since the accident. And she knew that he was watching her movements suspiciously.
Finally, she turned to face him. There was no crime committed, after all, and she wanted him to know her every move if it would make him Feel at ease mentally. "I'm going to Fred's office, she said gently. I think I may need some medicine to get me to sleep nights.
As she spoke, she remembered his prescription on the living room table. Actually, all she had to do was send for it to be filled. But she was going, anyway. She saw the thin line of Jerry's lips and knew that he didn't believe her. Yet he said nothing. He only sighed a deep breath of disgust and pulled the blanket tighter around him.
"I won't be gone an hour," she went on. "You won't have to take any pills until I return." She spoke mechanically, efficiently, poised tensely for another verbal attack.
He turned his head away and said nothing. "Have you taken a vow of silence.'" she spoke casually, trying to joke about it in the way she imagined Iris would.
He reached for a glass of fruit juice on the serving tray she'd prepared and sipped it. "Jerry, stop being childish," she snapped. He just replaced the glass and snuggled down as though for a rest.
"All right," she said more gently. "Have it your way. Make life as difficult as possible for both of us."
In the waiting room she opened a magazine and glanced at it. The leather chairs all looked well sat in, the pile of magazines neatly arranged, the receptionist busy with typing. Fred's practice was obviously successful, the reward for diligence and sincerity....what he stood for.
"Why didn't you phone:'" he scolded as she entered the office. "You know I'd have come in for you." He took her hands and held them between his own.
"I needed these few minutes to pull my thoughts together," she said.
"Tell me what it's all about." He sat down on the edge of his desk.
"Aren't you going to lean back in your swivel chair:'" She said it jokingly, but beneath the banter, she knew she won Id feel more comfortable with the desk between them.
"Okay, I'll sit there." He swung off the desk and leaned back in the large, wide chair, resting his elbows on the arms and crossing his fingers beneath his chin. "Satisfied?"
"Don't laugh at me Fred."
"I'm not. I'm just trying to please you.
"That seems to be difficult."
"What does?"
"Pleasing inc. I don't seem to be getting along with anyone ... especially my husband."
"We both know that jerry isn't the easiest patient in the world," Fred said. ."But this is certainly no cause for alarm. You've stood up to him like a trooper, and when he's back on his feet again, he'll be proud of you for that. Right now, we don't expect him to be anything more than a sick child."
"There's more to it than his moodiness."
"Explain, dear."
"Would I be here about something you Ye told me so often before?"
Slowly she pulled off her gloves. Xow she forced herself to look at him. Her eves burned from lack of sleep, the muscles in her neck seemed to be straining. She wanted Fred to see this, to see the ravages her nerves had wrought on her body. Surely these were not the symptoms of a person who was basically contented. lie remained silent, his eves watching her carefully.
"Well, aren't you going to help me?" she asked.
"In every way possible."
But he couldn't say it for her. She knew that, nor could she expect him to understand if she would not say it for herself.
"It is about Jerry and me," she began. "We ... we haven't been getting along." She faltered. The room seemed very quiet. "In fact, we've been arguing lately. Not just cranky arguments, as you've suggested ... but bitterly."
She wished she could leap up and run out of here before she had to say more. Vet she knew there must be no running away from her problem, no false modesty.
"So on," he encouraged, lie began to fill his pipe, using the same careful movements with which he did everything.
She cleared her throat but the lump which seemed to be lodged behind her tongue did not go away. "Of course I didn't expect there to be any love in our lives. Romantic love, that is. I'm not a monster, Fred. At least, I don't think so...." She looked at him questioningly. "Of course not, silly," he smiled. She shook her head. "Vet it turns out that I am. I really am." Her voice broke and she had to press her lips together to hold her composure. "I understand." He spoke around the pipe stem, moving the flame of his lighter in slow circles. "You're a young woman. A healthy young woman. You talk about this as though you don't realize I know everything you want to say. As Jerry's doctor, I think you might give me a little more credit." He smiled as he spoke.
"I don't know what to do," she said faltly. "It's driving me crazy."
"Do you mean your sexual desire or his impotence?"
She stared at him wordlessly.
"Don't look so shocked, just answer me."
"Well...." She pressed back aganst the chair to hold herself steady. "I didn't think there was a difference."
"There is ... a big one."
"How?"
He leaned forward and rested ons elbow on the desk top. "One can be cured, the other put up with. And I don't mean it to sound like a rule from a class room." Her glance dropped to the neat, tight knot of his tie. "Is it a permanent thing, then?"
"It's possible. Some men can't, you know."
"No, I didn't know," she said.
"But you do know that you need ... diversion."
She frowned. "Fred, after all these years of friendship, why are you speaking to me like a lecherous old man?"
"That's your interpretation," he said quietly. "You're over-anxious, which I understand. You need release, which I also understand. And," his bodh inclined toward her almost imperceptibly, "you must realize how much I've cared for you all these years."
"Yes, yes." She was beginning to feel annoyed, even a little afraid ... not quite sure what he was getting at and not at all sure she wanted to know. "We've been very good friends, Fred. In my own way I love you. I always have."
"But not the way you love your husband." His calm eves remained level, vet there was a hint of bitterness in his tone.
"He's my husband." She sounded a little desperate even to herself. She saw his eyes begin to search her.
"Of a sort," he said finally. '"I wonder if you ever really considered just why you married him. How long did you know him before the two of you ran off? Four weeks? Or was it five?" lie pressed his lips together. "It really doesn't matter. But I stood by and watched it happen.
And I think I understand. You didn't want love and a home with him. You weren't interested in raising a family. What you wanted. Helen, was kicks....the glamour of chasing from place to place, never truly knowing what lay in store for You horn one day to the next.
"But...."
"Don't interrupt me. I've known you too long. Too well and from too many angles. Look at you. Now that the thrills are gone, you're frightened because you feel hemmed in. You can't face the thought of spending the rest of your life with a sexually incompetent husband. Even if you do profess to love him. No, you can't imagine it. And frankly, I can't blame you."
He pushed himself out of the chair and came toward her.
"What are you telling me?'" She spoke in a voice hardly audible. A series of shivers chased along the insides of her arms. She knew what was coming, knew she should break away and run from here. Yet she remained there, watching warily as he approached.
"I'm telling you to live a little, my friend ... to forget all the rules you've learned about morals. When you see sickness and death every day, as I do, you begin to understand what a farce our morality is. One suffers enough unintentionally Why add to the load?"
"I've never heard you speak this way before, Fred."
"No...."
He took her by the arms and lilted her up from the chair. She felt numb and limp as though the blood had been drained from her body. In her head she heard the echo of what he had said about Jerry. Impotence ... not much hope.
""But how do you know he won't get better?" she pleaded. "How can you be positive?"
"I don't know for sure. Maybe years. With therapy. One never knows anything for sure. But are you willing to wait?"
"Yes, I am."
"That's not true, Helen." lie pulled her to him. She felt his mouth hot on hers. His hands slid down to the small of her back and pressed her hips to his body.
She knew she ought to resist, to scream. Bui she remembered Jerry. The names he had called her. And now she knew the same desperation he must have felt ... a desperation that blinded her ... filled her with craving and demanded release bodily.
She let herself go limp. He half carried her into the examination room, pushing the door shut with his foot. His hands moved the clothes off her body in quick movements. She lifted her weight so he could pull down her panties easier.
As he undressed, she stared at the ceiling. Then his hands began searching out the tender areas of her body, trailing paths of lust along her belly, down her thighs.
She closed her eyes. A low moan sounded in her throat. Her hands moved to find him.
He pressed the firm thighs wide and she gasped in expectation. The warm thrill of it swelled through her. The heat of his body ruged her to give in return. Her limbs encircled him ... clung....
"Make it happen," she said.
And then her insides seemed to shatter into sparking bits of heat.
His mouth mashed down on hers, drowning the shriek that had risen in her throat.
And then they were separate again.
She lay on the table, unable to move, watching him dress, deliberately, neatly. She could hardly speak. Her tongue felt heavy with a misery she could not define. "Don't you use that clinical voice with me," she said angrily.
She knew now that she hated him ... all the way.
Hated him, yet she would see him over and over to return to his eager arms....and physical pulsating maleness. ... that her femininity craved and so desperately wanted, and rightly so.
CHAPTER FOUR
She left the office in a spell of numbness and not even seeing the passing world. Her big blotting concern was how she could look at her husband who lay so helpless and useless. How could she when Fred came to visit, to pretend that he was only an impersonal doctor.
A whore and a tramp she might be, but she was an awful bar. Yet, unless she wanted to walk out on Jerry right now, she would have to do that as best as she can, both for his sake and her own.
And the first one to lie to would have to be to her mother.
She found a phone booth and called. Her mother agreed readily to stay with Jerry, glad that Helen had at long last decided to get out of the house for a while.
Now she was outside again, free once again.
Free with nowhere to go, unable to think of anyone she dared to see.
Her mind whirled with the things Fred had said to her. Was she a thrill girl? Had she married Jerry for such childish reasons?
Wandering through the park, she strolled around midst the sound of children, feeling terribly alone, isolated somehow from the rest of the human race. And vet, she could not really agree with what Fred had said. She did want a home and children. How different if she could be here today with a child of Jerry's instead of the guilt that seemed to be dragging at her.
She could not yet bring herself to go home to Jerry, to lace his suspicious, eyes, her mother's sharp intuition. What she needed more than anything was someone to talk to who would not try-to question her.
She hailed a cab and gave the driver Iris' address. Iris, at least, would not condemn.
She had never been to their home. Now, as she paid the far and surveyed the building, Helen wondered how Iris could possible be happy here. She felt a vague sensation of repulsion, yet she went up and rang the doorbell. She would have been thankful for any company now.
Then she saw her friend's lithe body moving along the hall and she sighed with relief
"Well, hello," Iris said. "I was just snoozing in the back yard." She wore a white polo shirt and denim shorts that fit almost as tightly as a bathing suit. Her skin glistened with suntan lotion.
Helen stepped quickly inside as though she were sneaking into a cave.
"Hey, what's with you?" Iris' laughter held the same bantering amusement Helen remembered.
"Running from the police. " I believe it.
The inside of the house belied its external appearance. Modern furniture, sparse but obviously comfortable, gave the rooms a tone of easy living. She followed Iris through the house and out into the hack yard.
Another woman, also in shorts, reclined in a sun lounge. Her hair was pulled back tightly into a bun, emphasizing the high cheek bones and making her look old.
"You know Elinor':'"
"Certainly we know each other," Elinor replied with a tight little smile that questioned Helen's presence there.
Helen felt Iris' hand on her shoulder, moving her down onto another chair. She almost regretted having come here, now that Elinor had made it all to clear that she was intruding.
"Helen's hiding out, too," Iris said, taking a pitcher of lemonade and pouring some into a glass. "Yes, I told Helen you and Harry were having trouble. You two have lots in common."
A hot surge of embarrassment suffused Helen's face. But she took the glass quietly and stared over its rim at the rows of varied flowers that bordered the well tended lawn. A tall wooden fence closed the ward off from its nieghbors. Only muted sounds from the street, the occasional yelling of mother to offspring reminded her that this was still city life.
"Three blind mice," Elinor said. "See how they run."
Helen's glance went quickly to Iris. Was she, too, involved with such matters?
"Oh, yes," Iris answered her silent question.
I claim no Immunity." She stretched out in a beach chair and pointed her lace toward the sun. "This little back yard is a haven for wayward wives." She laughed. "And I don't even have to open my eyes to see the how-did-you-know expression on your delightful little pan.
Helen felt the automatic impulse to deny it rise, then die inside her. She had to find someplace where she could be herself. Well, she had it. She kicked off her shoes and wiggled her toes.
"That's right," Elinor said. "Relax until sundown. Then we crawl back for the night."
"You haven't crawled back for two weeks," Iris said.
"So much the better for me."
A fleeting hostility seemed to fill the air which Helen had neither expected nor understood. These women, instead of being the good friends she had thought them to be, were actually attacking each other....subtly, but viciously just the same. It didn't make much sense, but she had the impression that her sudden appearance here had a lot to do with it.
"Rut we know all about us," Iris said, "and nothing about you, Helen." She looked at Helen and smiled. "So you took my advice audit exploded in your charming little hand, did it?"
"Yes, tell us," Elinor said. "'Tell us all."
And now she was certain that her presence was an irritant, at least to Elinor.
"Let her rest," Iris put in soothingly. "She'll talk when she's ready....or not at all, if that pleases her."
Elinor turned away angrily.
Iris ignored her. Calmly she folded her hands over her middle and sat that way, looking at Helen.
She nodded thanks for being let alone. She felt an aura of protectiveness emanating toward her from Iris ... an aura that soothed and offered the promise of forgetfulness. She had felt it last evening, but not so strongly then. Perhaps because she had not needed it so.
It seemed doubly hard to understand, therefore, why Elinor should be so hostile.
"Well, Elinor murmured. "I see times have changed." She swung her legs off the chair and searched out her shots.
"You're leaving us," Iris said blandly.
"Don't sound so anxious, doll. I doit all the time."
Curiously, Helen observed the interplay of emotions coiling out between them. Obviously, they were old friends. And old friends reserved the right to quarrel, she told herself. Yet she did not enjoy being a witness to it. It seemed that her whole life was becoming a series of antagonistic, petty destructive actions leading ultimately to turmoil.
"I wish there was something stronger in this drink than lemon juice," she said impulsively.
Both women turned to look at her.
"Give the girl a drink. Iris. You don't want to keep her thirsty."
"If you're going ... go." Iris put her hand on the woman's behind and pushed gently.
"If the alcohol's coming out, I just might decide to stay...."
"No whiskey." The words snapped with decision.
"Poor little Helen," Elinor sighed. "No whis-key."
Helen sat quite still as Iris took the woman by the arm and led her back to the house, half dragging, hall-joking. She wondered if Elinor were going home. If she, herself would be going home later to Jerry ... and she almost wished that the sun would never go down so she might stay here forever.
When Iris returned, Helen was trying unsuccessfully to light a cigarette from the pack lying open on the table.
"'Here, let me help." Iris struck another match.
Hut Helen couldn't keep the cigarette from quivering between her lips. She was watching the smooth brown arm and how white it was on the inside. And she felt still the echoes of Elinor's ill humor. Still, she wanted to think about her, about anything but herself ... any thing.
"Look, if you won't inhale...." She dropped the burnt match and took the cigarette away. "You'd better forget it."
Half laughing, she sat down on the edge of Helen's chair and snapped the cigarette in two. "Hopeless ... hopeless little girl." Tearing open the paper, she watched the tobacco sift between her fingers and onto the grass. "Piddling her life away ... hiding...." She spoke quietly, almost sadly.
"Are you talking about me ... or Elinor?"
Iris rested her hand lightly on Helen's leg. "All of us," she said.
"You don't seem so hopeless," Helen said, glad to keep the conversation away from herself. "But I am."
Helen wanted suddenly to move her leg from under the woman's touch. The skin beneath Iris' palm twinged oddly. There was something almost caressing about the way the hand felt. She knew it was all in her own mind, a reaction from the guilt she felt because of the morning's behavior. Vet she did not move, afraid Iris might not understand the action.
"There is no one is this world who is really hopeless," Helen said.
"But there is." She leaned back and crossed her legs, leaning one hip against Helen's leg. "It's nothing to be afraid of, though. Once you get accustomed to the idea."
"I don't like to hear those things from you."
"Why not:'"
"Because you're too ... full of life."
"But that's it, you see."
"Oh, Iris, stop playing with me ... please." Her voice sounded strained.
Iris nodded obligingly. "All right. What would you rather have me do:'"
She felt confused. What indeed did she want her to do:' Why had she come here:' "Oh, I don't know. Anything ... just talk to me."
Instead of replying immediately, Iris glanced up to follow a bird's journey from one distant tree to another. "You can stay here as long as you like, you know," she murmured. "Ralph has gone off to Florida. The world is mine. At least for a while."
"I wish I could. I really wish that."
"But you have responsibilities."
Something in her tone put Helen instantly on the defensive. "I have a husband whom I betrayed today." She wanted to say more, but the words choked in her throat. She flung herself out of the chair and strode to the opposite end of the yard Tears rose and spilled over, wetting her face.
Seconds later she sensed Iris' presence, felt the caressing touch again on either arm. The hands steadied her.
"I guess you really needed that drink."
Helen let herself to be taken back into the house. From a cabinet on the screened porch, Iris took out a bottle of liquor and poured her a double shot.
She drank it down at once.
"You can face him," Iris said. "Take it from me. A nice warm bath, a little food in you and this whole mess'll simplify." She held out her hand, "dome on."
Helen had no strength to object. She went with Iris into the bathroom, sat quietly waiting while the tub filled, then let Iris undress her. She knew she was being childish, but, at the moment, she wanted to be, wanted to have someone fuss over her and dull the shame. She sat into the warm water and leaned forward while Iris lathered her back.
"You're really taking this pretty well," Iris said, rinsing the soapy cloth. "Much better than I did. I made a real scene....went on a two week binge, with poor Ralph looking for me everywhere."
Helen sighed.
"I suppose you think it's worse because Jerry's flat on his back ... defenseless. There's probably nothing I could say to convince you that you would have done it anyway. I won't even try. Lean back now."
Helen leaned back and felt the soap slide over her breasts. Iris' words made her uncomfortable, yet she was not at all sure that they weren't true. Nothing made much sense anymore, wish I were a girl again," she murmured.
"Who doesn't?" Iris laughed. "Now, stand up."
"Obediently she stood up while water ran from the spray over her body.
"You'd better put something on those," Iris said clinically and Helen saw the bruises inside her thighs. "Turn around ... let's see where else you've got 'em."
She felt Iris' fingers running lightly over her body.
"Guess that's all," she said. She led Helen onto a large fluffy bathmat and lifted a huge towel from the rack.
Helen felt her breasts being cupped and lifted. Rut before she could move, the agile hands had moved downward to her belly, then around to her back, massaging. All the aching had left her muscles and , for the first time in weeks, she knew she would sleep if she closed her eyes.
"Now get dressed and I'll fix us some supper," Iris said softly, not wanting to disturb the mood.
As she dressed, the odor of cooking wafted in from the kitchen and she realized that she was hungry. She had never expected to be hungry again. She had thought, somehow, that everything would be different.
A fresh salad ... wine ... broiled steaks.
"It's so lovely here," she breathed, looking out the window at some trees. "Seems far away from....everything."
"Yes," Iris said lightly. "A nice delusion." It was not till after they had eaten and were busy with the dishes that Iris forced her back to reality. She said, very calmly, "Have you decided what you're going to do next?"
"No. I don't even want to think about it. Tomorrow. I 'll think about it then."
"Helen, listen to me. I don't give a damn if you never think about it again. Believe me." Her eyes flashed. " But if I'm going to enjoy anything with you, it's got to be with both your eyes open."
"I don't see what one thing has to do with another."
Iris sighed. "You don't see much of anything, my dear little buddy ... do you:'"
"Don't confuse me, Iris, please." She picked up a dish. "Do you think I'm enjoying all this? I don't want to run away from ferry. I care for him, Iris. I do. Really."
"Then don't make such a hiss about it."
They finished the dishes in silence. It hurt her deeply to realize that Iris was not convinced of her devotion to Jerry. And for the first time, she felt a push of disappointment. Perhaps Iris didn't really understand her after all.
"Or, maybe, understood her too well.
"Brooding again?" Iris said when the last dish had been stacked away.
Helen hung up the towel, then turned slowly to face her. "You know, you could be wrong sometimes. I mean...."
Iris laughed. "Not about you, sweet."
"And why not me?"
"Oh, one of those things, I guess."
"You guess nothing. you know....what I am and you don't bother giving it fancy names." The lines around her mouth were hard.
"Don't be so hard on yourself," Iris said quietly. "I never called you any names."
You didn't have to. I know what you think. I'm a thrill kid, that's all. Looking for kicks wherever I can find them." She shook her head. "Somebody else told me that today ... and he ought to know."
"Why ought he to know, Helen:'"
"Because he's been around a long, long...." She stopped abruptly, realizing that she had given away more than she had intended.
Iris examined the few splotches of water on her shorts. "Even the all knowing can be wrong."
"I appreciate your loyalty, Iris, but it's hopeless. We both know it's true." At the moment she believed it must be so.
"Then you should have no problem.
"What do you mean?"
"You can get a divorce with a clear conscience."
Divorce? The word raced through her like a shock. No, she didn't want one. Accident or no accident, she wanted ferry, wanted to be with him, to care for him. There was something very special in the way she felt about him ... something that had nothing to do with sex ... or thrills.
Iris looked at her lovelly. "Well, if you don't want to get a divorce and you're afraid to face him ... exactly what do you intend to do?"
Helen just stared at her.
"It's all right to be confused, but...." She spread her hands. "Anyhow, let me take you home. It might help you to be close to the line of battle."
"Oh, no. I couldn't." She felt the fear pulsing into her.
"It has to be honey."
"Nothing has to be," she stalled. Vet she knew deep within her heart that Iris was right ... knew that she must square off to the big problem.
"Come on," Iris said. "Get with it."
So Helen followed Iris out without a word, the there frozen with unease, and doubt.
CHAPTER FIVE
The closer they got to her house the more she felt this way. She felt trapped and committed now.
"Here we are," Iris said, stopping in front of the apartment building.
There was something in Iris' voice that didn't jive. Helen sat back and looked at her carefully, trying to put her finger on it. Rut before she could figure it out, she had a great idea. She touched Iris on her arm, "Your way-out cure?"
"I think so. hook, will you do something for me?"
"Name it."
"Come with me. They'll see you with me and know we were together. Iris still ore the short sleeved shirt, but she now wore a shirt on over her shorts.
To her dismay, Iris burst out laughing in a way that seemed to defile her own being.
"What's so funny?" Helen asked.
"Nothing at all, honey," Iris said quickly. And she got out of the car with a sudden nervous movement.
Riding up in the elevator, Helen felt flushes of hot and cold. Unwittingly, she had put the pieces of her life into Iris' hands....and she was no longer sure they were safe there.
The came into the glow of a single light coming from the living room.
Half hidden in a wing chair, Helen's mother sat erectly behind the click of knitting needles. As Helen came in, she did not glance up, but seemed to concentrate more intently on her work.
"Hello, Mom," Helen said, kissing her lightly on the head. "Has he been much trouble:'"
The sentence hung stfffly ill the air. "No trouble whatsoever.
The woman's tiny firm body had always seemed to Helen like a shell ready to dart forward and destroy. She reached for Iris' hand.
"This is my friend. Iris Winters. We spent the day together." Sue felt as though she were offering Iris, like sweets to a visitor.
Her mother lay the knitting on her lap and examined Iris closely. "Miss ... or Misses?"
"Misses." The amusement had not yet left Iris' voice. It floated richly, a banner of encouragement in the strained atmosphere.
"In my day, women didn't have time for enjoying themselves without their husbands."
Helen's body stiffened with a sense of betrayal. "But you told me to go out, she said defensively
"You've been telling me that for weeks."
Going out is not the same as whooping it up.
Helen's glance shot guiltily to Iris. She knew better than to retort, for the guilt would show in her voice, show in her manner.
Iris' smile had begun to fade. "You had neither the time not the inclination, I guess."
"
"That's right, young woman" Her gaze seemed to pass through Helen with triumph. 'Then she gathered her knitting and laid it in a wicker basket, "Jerry's asleep out he was grumph before and I expect he'll be grumpy after, but I don't blame him. So you'd best watch." Then she came directly to Iris and shook her hand. "I'll be going. My own supper's still to he prepared."
When Helen had seen her out the door and returned, Iris was standing at the window, her arms folded. She turned as Helen approached and smiled. "Wow what was so hard about that;'"
"If she were your mother, you'd know."
"Wo doubt."
"But I'm grateful anyway. You realize that." There was nothing more for Iris to do here. Yet Helen didn't want to let her go. "Iris, I...."
Iris patted her lightly on the cheek. "Everything will be just fine, honey. Get some sleep. I'm going home now."
She put out a hand to detain Iris, afraid to be left alone just yet.
"He'll probably sleep through the night," Iris said reassuringly. ""And I'll call you early in the morning."
Helplessly, Helen sighed.
"You mustn't look so forlorn," Iris said. "'It's too damn appealing."
And before she could say another word, Iris was gone.
She tried to cling to the comfort of his words. He might sleep through the night. And it was just barely possible that when he did wake up, he would have forgotten.
Rut not very probable.
Slumping into the deep cushions of the sofa, she struggled to regain the balance she had felt in Iris' presence. Rut there was no peace for her, nowhere to turn to escape her guilt. The isolation reached forward to touch her and there was no escaping. She didn't even dare turn on the television set for fear of waking her husband.
She began to pace the room, It was hardly eight o clock. Sue had the whole night to pass.
And then, in the morning, there would be ... Fred.
Regardless of what else happened, she knew she had to avoid seeing Fred again. Not only because of what had already taken place between them, but because she knew she might not be able to resist him. Still how could she manage not to see him? He had to see Jerry. She didn't dare switch doctors in the middle of everything. There were too many shrewd people in her life ... and suspecious ones.
Hardly realizing her action, she went to the liquor cabinet. She poured half a glass of bourbon. Even in her imagination, she didn't want to see Fred. She could never love him as she loved Jerry. And without love, the union of their bodies seemed rotten and shabby. She drank deeply, on a single breath, immersing herself in the burning sensation, desirous of any feeling, any thought that could drive a wedge between her body and Fred's.
As she gulped and coughed on the liquor, the tinkling of Jerry's bell sounded. She set down the glass and listened. It rang again, louder this time more persistent.
Her hand went to her hair, lacing ferry in this condition meant sure accusation ... yet she had to go to him.
"Put on the light," he said as she tried to tiptoe in.
"Won't it be too hard on your eyes, dear?" 'Since when do you care about my eyes:'"
She flicked the switch and stood holding onto the door jamb uncertainly. "What can I do for you?" Her voice came out high and tight, hardly her own.
"A couple of aspirins. My head aches thinking about you all day." lie squinted at her, shading his eyes with his arm. "I didn't think you'd have the guts to get that old witch to come stay with me. You must've been very anxious to get away from here."
His tone was cruel and cutting. Yet she recognized something different about him now, a hopelessness that seemed to echo her own feelings. She stepped to the bureau for the aspirins. Her hands moved a little more steadily.
"I needed a breath of fresh air, that's all."
"I guess anybody would after all this time. If I could get out a little...." He shrugged resignedly.
She brought him the pills and some water. "I know, darling." She spoke gently, yet her mind raced with confusion. This sudden turn of his good nature was something she couldn't face, couldn't maneuver.
"Sit down with me for a minute. I want to talk to you.
As he touched her wrist, she felt a cold perspiration break out on her back. She had imagined how terrible it would be to face his nasty accusations. But this? What was she supposed to do against this all-to-human need for commiseration. She couldn't even run now. She sat down on the chair.
H swallowed the pills and the water. "I guess I owe you an apology."
She saw him hanging onto the glass as she had been hanging onto the bottle of liquor only a few minutes before. Her whole being ached for him, vet she could not tell him. "Jerry, don't," she murmured, wanting to tell him to shout at her, to call her the names she deserved ... to ease the guilt by hating her.
"I meant it," he said sincerely. "There was no excuse. I love you. I know you love me. And what the hell I was trying to prove, I'll never understand."
You mustn't," her voice choked on the words.
"Hut I want to. All afternoon I was lying here, thinking how much I had hurt you to drive you out of the house like that. You know, I wanted to cry because I couldn't run after you and bring you back. I wanted you to know I'm sorry." He put out his hand for hers. "Sit closer."
She pulled the chair in toward the bed and felt his warm fingers circle her cold ones.
"It's going to be all right," he continued. "I don't know why I thought Fred might be kidding me along. No self-confidence. I guess. You know-how it is when you've been flat on your back ' You get all kinds of crazy ideas." lie frowned thoughtfully for a moment". Then he looked full at her and smiled with more energy than she'd seen from him since before the accident. "Come sit on the bed here."
"Let me put out the light first," she whispered so he could not tell the quiver in her voice. "It's so much nicer together in the dark."
She snapped the light off and returned to sit on the edge of the bed. She held herself tightly together.-barely within his reach.
"Hey," he said teasingly, "you playing hard to get?"
She laughed and tried to make it sound casual. Then she leaned toward him as his arm went around her waist, pulling her closer, making her lie down beside him.
What was he trying to do. She sensed something urgent about his actions, something demanding. Vet they both knew that he couldn't....
She closed her eves and lay still, letting his hand move over her body as he wished. Anything to please him ... anything.
"It's going to be just like it used to be," he said hoarsely.
As he spoke, his hand wandered warmly down the length of her thigh, lie began to stroke her leg as she had known him to do preliminary to their love making. Horrified, she tried to remain perfectly still. Yet she felt the craving start deep inside her as it always did when he touched her like this. Her skin warmed beneath his fingers and she knew he must sense it, too.
"Poor kid," he muttered. All wound up. There's no reason why we can't take care of it for you. Where there's love ... what difference does it make how you are satisfied."
He spoke with his lips against the side of her throat. His lingers had begun to tug up the hem of her skirt.
"Darling," she stroked his forehead. "You mustn't exert yourself." Her hand moved to stop his exploring fingers. "We should wait."
Ignoring her attempt to ward him off. his hand had crept beneath her dress and moved up along the inside of her thigh. Searching, probing the part of her lie knew so well. ""Why should you wait' When it's so easy ... so easy to ... take the edge off?"
"Not that way." With all the strength she could muster, she pulled away from him. "I don't want it that way, darling. Either it's both of us ... or nothing."
She heard him release a deep breath.
"You mean that?"
"Of course."
He lay back against the pillow and folded his hands on his chest. "Thank heaven for that. I was beginning to think it was getting out of control."
She couldn't say anything but sat there, stroking his forehead and feeling hot spears of agony sear through her. All of her had been aroused in the few moments of their intimacy, all of her yearned for fulfillment. Vet she sensed somehow that he did not really understand, that he resented her need. And she was glad now that she had not let him make love to her.
When he touched her again, putting his hand on her back, there was no leap of response, but a vast expanse of frustration.
"'Hey, what's wrong, anyhow?" His voice was quiet, almost sad. "'You said it's okay."
She sat up away from him and held his hand in her lap. "I was just...." She tilted her head to smile at him. What, after all, could she say? What could she possibly achieve by telling him the truth.
She brought his fingers to her lips and kissed them gently. "I was remembering how very much I love you, and feeling a little guilty that you'd been worrying about me. Heaven knows, you've had enough to contend with, without me to worry about."
Jerry shifted a little against the pillows and she leaned forward to make him more comfortable.
"I'm not blaming you for anything," he said. "I know it's my own doing."
Suddenly she wanted to laugh and cry, all at the same time. The memory of the morning's episode with Fred rushed in on her with hideous vision. The way he had grabbed her ... and she had responded with the furious, panting need of a bitch in passion. Her cheeks burned now with the memory of it.
She knew Jerry was waiting, wanting her to say something, anything to justify his confidence in her ... needing her to have faith in him, now that he had none in himself. .Yet she could not bring herself to meet his eves, afraid that he might see the guilty secret he must never know.
"I really didn't do much of anything," she said, sitting beside him on the bed. "I went to Fred's office for some sleeping pills, then roamed around for a while. Then," she raised one shoulder easily, "I went uptown to visit Iris." She listened to herself drone on. describing the home he had never seen, mentioning Elinor. Being chatty, friendly, as she had always been with him before he accident.
Obviously he believed her, for she sensed him relaxing, settling down more comfortably under the sheet. He didn't interrupt and when she glanced at him, she saw the hint of a smile on his luce.
"You're smiling." she said.
"At myself. I'm a first class dope sometimes. I should Ye known it was something like that." His head nodded sleepily.
Without answering, she stood up and pulled the sheet up snugly around him. "(let some sleep," she said. "Fred will he here early to morrow." She kissed him lightly on the lore-head and began to back away toward the door.
"Don't go."
"I'm here."
She staved in the darkness beside him until he was sleeping soundly. Then she tiptoed out.
In the living room she poured herself another drink. A long one. She lay down on the sofa without bothering to undress and closed her eyes.
She fell finally into a doze.
The doorbell had been ringing sharply for some time before shed reached the foyer. She opened the door an inch and peered out. then flung it wide. Fred stood there, staring at her. pleading with her, his eves glazed with lust. lie didn't say another word. He didn't have to.
She led him inside to the couch. His lips found hers hungrily, his hands caressed her breast gentry, then more roughly. He forced her down to the couch and her legs spread wide to welcome his body. She reached out to touch him and led him to her.
Her breasts came on fire. He gripped them tightly, squeezing them.
His body began to rock in ever-increasing tempo. His breath came in ragged snorts.
"Now!" she told him.
He nodded. He felt an inner spasm come from her, and it was the last straw, pushing him into the abyss of ecstasy. Powerful urges grasped him tightly, and he sighed and bucked and felt the aching, pounding pulsations of the climax, and at the same time he was aware that her body was trembling and shaking in a deep culmination.
And it was over.
She sat up shaking. She felt depleted, her limbs heavy ... and something else. A dream. Yet not a dream, for she recognized the incompleteness she sensed for what it was.
I must be ill. she thought. I can't even trust myself with myself any more.
She got off the sofa and began to pace the room ... afraid to take another drink ... afraid to sleep....caught up in a misery that knee no relief.
She knew that she loved and cared deeply for her husband and wanted him and that, because of that, she must wait. lie could not stand the shame of having forced her into the arms of another male and so he had deluded himself to her body desires. She must not two-time him ever again or she could not live with him nor herself.
But ... how long could she hold back, how long deny the aching pulsating desires within her.
She felt herself in a deep horrible pit with no way out of it.
CHAPTER SIX
She spent a restless night, between fitfully dazing, on the couch, and restlessly pacing the living room floor in unhappy nervousness.
She was awake and restless when the phone rang early the next morning. She had been burning up with the problem of her future. She had concentrated on it for hours, examining the situation from every angel. She knew that she would never again be unfaithful to her husband....that she would face Fred this morning and physically reject him. Vet her nerves told her that she must seek another outlet for the hunger consuming her.
The ringing of the phone caught her attention finally and she moved swiftly toward it, her head throbbing with each step. Her eyes grated in their sockets. She scooped up the phone and put it to her ear.
Iris' voice at die other end sounded sleepy and intimate, yet full of the usual good-natured banter.
As she listened, Helen let herself relax. Her lingers worked futilely to smooth the wrinkles of her dress.
"Of course I'm all right," she said to Iris' question. She kept her voice low so that Jerry might not hear. "Hut, believe me, I've learned my lesson. From now on, I stay right here where I belong."
Iris' throaty laugh cut her of short. Something about it accused her of being absurd.
"What's so funny'" she said irritably, "I begin to feel like all you do is laugh at me."
"Hardly," Iris answered easily. "It's simply that I find you delightful."
"But...."
"Forget it," Iris said. "But remember this: I'm home most of the time. So, when you need a place to run to...."
After she'd hung up, Helen stood for a long time staring at the phone, trying to make some kind of sense out of her friend's behavior. It was like Iris to laugh ... at everything. Vet she had been more than willing to do all she could to help last evening. Didn't she understand that the help Helen really needed now was a little moral support?
Finally she shrugged and went off to the bathroom to make herself presentable, Jerry would be up at any moment, if lie wasn't already. She had a lot to make up to him for. Not only for Fred, but for herself.
As she cleaned up, her thoughts drifted again to Jerry, who depended on her. Who loved and trusted her and whom she had betrayed. It did not help her at all to realize that she had managed to get away with her deception. In fact it made it worse, for she would nave to live with the guilt, clutching it to her. letting it gnaw at her in the quiet hours.
There was no way out for her ... no way to stifle the craving of her flesh, no way to hide the guilt. And, though she loved him. she began to leel that he might be better off without her. Her very being must scream at him his failure, his inadequacy as a man.
She pulled the comb quickly through her hair. , She hadn't bothered to set it and it hung limply in loose strands. Then she strode quickly to the bedroom, to see if he were ready for breakfast. "Hello." he said warmly. lie held out his arms and she went into them gladly, hiding her lace against his neck. lie brushed her cheek with his chin and the bristles were rough and sweet against her skin. He held her so tightly, so surely that for a moment she almost forgot the truth, the ugly truth of what their marriage had become.
His palm circled on her breast, bringing the nipple instantly to a hard, pulsating point of life. His mouth caressed the hollow of her neck.
Caught completely off guard, she surrendered herself willingly to the pleasurable sensations shivering through her body. Without thinking, without caring, she let him explore intimately. His hand moved beneath her dress, tugged clumsily at her panties. Her body trembled against his.
She raised her hips to make it easier for him. He didn't need any help. He pulled her on top of him, his hand already moving beneath her clothing.
As he touched her, she pulled in her breath sharply. His mouth met hers hard, his tongue darted between hr teeth. I his hand moved slowly, slowly. She quivered and he stepped up the pace.
She felt the familiar, crazy aching sensation in the pit of her stomach, the flesh tightening along the insides of her thighs. And just when she thought she could bear it no longer, her knees tightened around him like a vise, then released as she climbed toward fulfillment.
Then she lay still on top of him, feeling neither peace nor satisfaction, but a sense of incompleteness. No matter what anybody said, it just wasn't the same thing. It was almost like when she sometimes tried satisfying herself. It felt good, but only brought on the need.
Yet she couldn't let him know this. It might be all he could do for her, at least for a long time to come.
She kissed him gently on the mouth and rolled away from him. lie had a triumphant smirk in his eyes that she couldn't bear to look at. She got off the bed slowly, deliberately using her body as though it throbbed with pleasure instead of need. As he watched her, she stepped out of the wrinkled dress and took a fresh one from the closet.
She felt him watching her closely, waiting for her, and she was afraid suddenly to turn and look at him. What was she supposed to say, now that it was over.
Her slip caught in the zipper. "Damn," she said.
"Let me do it," he said.
She sat beside him on the bed so he could reach the zipper. "I should have taken a shower, I suppose," she said. "But Fred will be here any minute and...."
"Yeah, I know." lie mumbled. "I should Ye waited." He grinned at her lecherously. "Hut that's how it is sometimes."
She touched the top of his hair with her palm. "You don't hear any complaints, do you?"
"Seriously." he said and his eyes were deeply serious. "I heard you get up in the middle of the night."
"I'm sorry."
""No. I was awake myself, thinking about us." He sighed tiredly. "Even though everything seemed to be all right, I ... well, I knew it couldn't be right for you. You're only human. And it's not your fault that I'm...." he gestured at his sheet covered body, "" ... out of commission."
She smiled and put two fingers under his chin and tilted his lips to hers. "I love you," she murmured against his mouth. "More than you'll ever know.
"I do know. That's why...."
"Oh, darling. I meant it when I said we could wait."
He looked at her.
"Not that I'm not happy you did," she added hastily.
She saw the suspicion and the distrust creeping back into his eyes and she knew instantly that she had already said too much. Yet somehow she couldn't shut herself off and she heard her voice, too high and too nervous, babbling on about nothing and everything. She had to let him believe that she found him adequate, that she always would.
She thought silently, don't let me hurt him anymore than I already have.
She made no comment on her monologue, but she sensed him stiffen and draw away from her. She pretended not to notice. But her hands, clasped tightly in her lap, were trembling.
She had never been so thankful for anything as she was for the sound of the doorbell when it finally came. After this episode, nothing could ever upset her again. Not even Fred.
She got up quickly and smoothed out her skirt. "That must be the doctor," she said lightly. And she was out of the room before he could say anything.
When she opened the door to Fred, it didn't happen at all the way it had been in her dream. He simply took off his hat and stood smiling at her and she moved aside to let him enter. "How's the patient?"
"Oh, he's line," she said. "He hasn't had breakfast yet, but he seems pretty chipper." She forced herself to meet his gaze steadily, almost defiantly. "He's waiting for you."
Fred shook his head slowly. '"I wasn't referring to Jerry," he said quietly. "I know all about his condition." He put his hands on her shoulders and held her at arms' length. '"I meant you, my dear. You obviously haven't slept. I see you haven't filled the prescription I gave you."
His expression showed sincere concern and she swallowed the nasty words that had leaped onto her tongue. After all, she couldn't realty blame him. She had gone to him for help. His treatment may have been somewhat unprofessional, but it had been effective, just the same.
No, she had nothing to blame but her own wantonness. She glanced away from him.
"None of that," lie said softly. He moved close to her, his arms going around he. lie held her gently, like a big brother. "What's done is done."
"I'm so ashamed."
"I hope you won't hate me."
"I don't hate you, Fred. It's myself I can't' stand." She sighed. "It's not pleasant to see yourself for what you really are."
"It never is," he said. He stepped away from her and bent to retrieve his bag. "I'd like to talk with you when I've finished examining Jerry."
She looked at him questioningly.
"It's important."
She nodded. "I'll put up coffee."
In the kitchen she spooned coffee into the top of the pot.
What could Fred possibly want to speak with her about.' Surely he must understand there could be no repetition of yesterday's episode.
Or maybe he had news about jerry's condition. Maybe there had been some new discovery, some development that could help him. Surgeons were doing such remarkable things these days. Maybe ... An injured spinal nerve. It sounded so plain, yet meant so much. And in her heart she knew there would be no miracle cure for Jerry. Just rest and patience ... and hope.
And for herself? What cure could anyone offer her?
Remembering Jerry, his changing moods, the way lie had made love to her, she realized that she would be better off with nothing thatn with the half satisfaction she had felt. She was not quite sure what had made him change his attitude during the night. But she sensed that it had bery littie to do with love. More likely, it had been his way of asserting himself with her, of making sure she still belonged to him.
Her thoughts reeled crazily across her brain till she pressed her hands to her head to quiet them. If only she could get away for a little while, really get away, where she could think this thing through clearly.
But even that was not possible. She could hardly walk out and leave him by himself.
"Coffee ready?"
She started violently and spun to lace him. "Fred, you frightened me," she said, half-apologetically for she knew he must think her a fool. "I'll bring it into the living room."
"Let's have it here." He sat down.
She knew he had chosen to remain in the kitchen to be sure that Jerry could not hear. But she made no objection. She brought two steaming cups to the table and sat down across from him.
"I low is he?"
"Fine. Just as I said earlier." He took a sip of coffee. Then he set the cup down. "Now that that's settled, let's get down to cases."
Her eyes widened. "What cases?"
"I'll put it bluntly," he said. "I think this job is getting to be a little more than you're able to handle alone. I've arranged for a sleep-in nurse.
She'll be here sometime late today."
"Go on.
He shrugged. "There isn't much else to say, really. Her name is Vera Crane and I've known her for years. She's quite competent. And she's had a great deal of experience with cases similar to Jerry's."
His words made no sense to her. "But why, Fred? I thought we agreed from the first that I would be the best nurse for him. He'd told you himself that he doesn't want anyone else."
"True," he admitted. "But, as i explained to him, we'll be starting therapy in a week or two. He'll need a trained person around to help him. Of course it could be done in a clinic. But he's not ready for all that travelling just yet. Besides, I think you could use a little time off. Jerry agrees with that."
"You told Jerry that?"
"Yes.
"I suppose you also told him what you think I should do with my free time," her voice rose angrily. "Did he agree with that, too?"
He leaned across the table and covered her trembling hands with his own steady ones. "What you do with your time is entirely up to you, Helen. You might even try catching up on your sleep," he added softly.
"Oh, Fred, I'm sorry. I don't know what's come over me lately."
Tears welled and spilled over. She put her face between her hands and sobbed openly.
Instantly he was beside her. He gripped her by the arms and pulled her against him. Tenderly he stroked her hair. She let herself relax in his arms, needing the comfort and the warmth He gave her a handkerchief and she dabbed at her eyes.
She sniffed. "I'm ashamed to act like this in front of you, Fred."
"Why?"
"Oh...." .She started to say because he was an outsider. But he wasn't. He had known her even longer than Jerry had, knew her probably as well as anyone.
He didn't wait for her to finish. His arms went about her tightly, lifting her off the floor. His lips pressed bruisingly down on hers. His hands cupped under her tubbocks and he ground himself demandingly into her.
For a full minute she was caught up in the hot fever of her desire. Then, as his fingers fumbled at the neck of her dress, she remembered yesterday and Jerry, waiting down the hall in the bedroom for his loving wile.
She put both her hands on his chest and thrust herself away from him.
He stood looking down at her wordlessly and, she thought, contemptuously.
"Don't you ever try that again," she said furiously. "And don't think I'll come running to you just because you've arranged it so I'll have free time."
He raised his shoulders than and nonchalantly spread his hands. "Why not?" he said. "If it's not me, it will be someone else. Where will you go Helen ... into the streets, the bars?"
"To my husband."
He started to smile.
"Laugh," she said. "He has already proved himself quite capable." She smiled. "'You wouldn't understand about that, Fred. Hut when two people love each other, there are always ways...."
And now he laughed aloud, his head thrown back, his amusement open.
"Damn you," she breathed. She could have killed him on the spot. Instead, she turned away from him and went to the sink and stood there.
He came up behind her, but did not try to touch her. "I'm sorry for that," he said. "But I know you too well, dear. You can't be satisfied with children's games. You need the real thing."
His words burned into her very being, condemning her with their horrible pitiful truth. I let shoulders slumped dismally as the last ounce of starch went out of her.
He pecked her lightly on the bad) of" the neck. "I'll be expecting you," he said. ""Soon."
Then he left.
She felt doomed, that she was gone also ... her finish.
CHAPTER SEVEN
She felt she couldn't face her husband. It was bad enough that she had made a dope of herself with Fred. Worse than this she knew he was right. If she could not act the contented wife with an outsider, how could she hope to convince her own husband?
She took the tray into the bedroom.
Jerry sat up propped with pillows, facing the window. He did not even look around as she came over to him.
"One breakfast coming up," she said lightly. She could not see the expression on his face. Rut his body slumped dejectedly.
"Leave it on the table. I'm not hungry now. Maybe later."
"But it's already long past breakfast time."
"I said, leave it." He looked straight at her now, his eyes bleak, his face more unhappy than ever.
"All right," she said quietly. She set the tray carefully on the table beside his bed.
He held out a hand toward her. "Look, I didn't mean to yell at you. It's just ... well, I've got a lot of thinking to do, that's all."
She knew without his explaining that he was thinking about Fred, about the nurse who was coming, about herself. And she knew, too, that he would have plenty to yell about later, when he had finished with the thinking. Yet she felt trapped, for there was nothing she could do, nothing she could say to reassure him. A man who was no longer a man must of necessity be suspicious and afraid.
She sighed and bent to plant a kiss firmly on top of his head. "All right," she said. "I'll leave you alone. If you need anything...."
"I don't need anything," he said bitterly. He turned slowly to face the window again. "I've got everything a man could possibly want."
She knew the situation with him was hopeless. She had no choice but to let him alone, to worry, to warp, to distort the situation, to fill whatever need for self-punishment he suffered. Gently, she tucked the sheet in around his shoulders. Then she left him.
In the living room, she paused and looked a-round her, wondering what she could possibly find to do that might distract her from her own thoughts. She didn't want to think about herself anymore. Nor about ferry. She didn't want to think about anything now.
Yet what was she supposed to do in this house she no longer thought of as a home? She felt useless here. lTseless and not really even wanted.
In her desire to pamper herself, to feel sorry for herself, she had completely forgotten about the nurse Fred was sending to move in with them. The woman had to be made comfortable.
She stopped at the linen closet long enough to pick up sheets and towels, then hurried down the hall of Jerry's den. A small but cozy room, it was the one spot in the apartment she avoided as much as she could. For in this room were displayed the trophies, the ribbons, the photographs Jerry had accumulated. And she could not bear to see them and be reminded of the past.
Carefully she made up a bed for Miss Vera Crane on the wide, foam rubber couch.
As she turned to leave the room, her glance touched a leather framed photograph on ferry's desk and she smiled, remembering the circumstances under which it had been taken. Two weeks before the accident, when he had set a new record and she had been waiting for him in the pit, he had grabbed her and kissed her as though they were alone, instead of surrounded by admiring fans. One of his friends had snapped a picture of their embrace.
The more she stared at the picture, the more convinced she became that the fault was entirely her own. After all, she had been behaving like a kid, as though the whole world would come to an end if she didn't have everything just the way she wanted it.
And here she stood now, like a fool, with tears in her eyes for the past and not one good thought for the future.
Holding herself very straight she hurried out to the kitchen.
As long as she could keep herself busy, she knew she could manage to stave off the paralysis of fear. And if she could be genuinely cheerful and creative in her approach to life, then surely some of it would communicate to Jerry. No wonder he had been afraid of losing her. She had been acting as though he already had. But there would be no more time for that. Soon he would be out of bed. Maybe for a while on crutches. But he would be able to go outdoors soon. They would go for walks together ... like before....
And maybe, in time, there would even be....
But she promised herself not to think about that.
And when Jerry's bell finally summoned her, she fairly ran clown the hall to his room.
"When's that damned nurse supposed to get here?" He shouted at her as she entered.
The tone of his voice drew her up short and she approached the bed almost cautiously. "I don't really know," she answered. "Fred said late this afternoon. Why?"
He shrugged. "Well, I'm thirsty. And now that you've resigned from the job...."
She gripped the edge of the night table and clung to it as though for her very fife. So that's how it was going to be. She might have expected something like this. She had been so carried away by her own high spirits that she had forgotten he had been lying here brooding all day.
But this time she was determined that she was not going to be overwhelmed by his mood. A whole future depended on her behavior now. Their future.
She managed to keep her voice pleasant. "Oh, I think I might be able to manage it. At least until she gets here."
She felt him watching her as she poured the water.
When she brought the glass toward him, he grabbed her wrist and held it. "You think it's funny?" he said hoarsely. "How the hell would you like it, lying here thinking I 'd run out on you?"
"If I were lying there," she said quietly. "I wouldn't think any such thing. I'd know better."
He swallowed a few gulps of the water and pushed away the glass. "It's easy for you to say that...." He made a gesture of disgust with his hand.
That's true," she admitted. It was difficult to find the right words to say to him. Especially now. when he was feeling so defensive. No matter what she said, he would twist it to fit his own conclusions. Still, she couldn't very well just leave it like this.
She balanced herself on the edge of the bed, not really putting her weight on it, yet needing the security of a firm surface beneath her. "I have a pretty good idea of what's going through your mind," she said slowly. "But ... well, please try to remember that the nurse was Fred's idea, not mine. I was every bit as surprised as you were."
"Yeah, I'll bet."
"It's true."
"Look, what kind of fool do you think I am? He wouldn't of come up with this if you hadn't been crabbing."
She knew he would make it unpleasant for both of them. She could hear the hurt, the anger and the resentment in his voice. Yet she did not try to contradict him.
"Not that I blame you," he went on. "I'm bored out of my damned mind and I guess you must be, too. But I didn't think you'd have the gall to do this."
"To do what?"
"To get me a keeper so you can go out whoring around," he said nastily. "Oh, Jerry."
"Don't Jerry me. I fell for your line once, kid. But no more. Do you think I don't know what you were doing yesterday?"
"You should. I told you, myself."
"Yeah," he muttered. "You were out getting laid, that's what. No wonder you were so damned pious. 'We can wait' " he mimicked. "Sure you could wait. The hell with what I wanted. You already had yours."
She felt waves of heat rush through her. She felt as though she might faint. But it was not for shame and guilt she felt now. It was rage. For she realized that he did not really care what she had done. He wanted only to justify himself, to blame her for everything, as he tried to do before. And for this she almost hated him. As long as he refused to take responsibility for his part of their relationship, there could be no hope for their future.
Still, only this afternoon had she begun to accept her own share of the responsibility. She
"I'm sorry if you believe that. I thought it would be better for you if we did wait. That's all."
"What the hell do you think I am, a vegetable? I'm still a man and don't you ever forget it."
"I haven't," she said. She touched his hand lightly. "You proved that this morning." She kept her voice low, throaty.
I le looked as though she'd thrown a bucket of ice water into his face. And like he wanted to strangle her for doing it. She got up off the bed and went of the window. She stood with her back toward him.
"I'll tell you a secret," she said. "I will be glad to get out of this house now and then, before I go insane." She spun now to face him, 'Don't you see what you're doing, Jerry?"
His face had gone white and the skin around his eyes looked puffy and old.
"Every half hour you're in a different mood. And most of them are unbearable." She watched his eyes and knew she should step before she carried this thing too far. Yet she caught a quick breath and plunged on. "I'm beginning to believe that you hate me. I can't get close to you at all anymore. Not at all. I need to know that I'm wanted, Jerry. Every woman needs that."
"Look, you know I can't...."
"I didn't mean that," she interrupted quickly. "I mean, wanted as a person ... as me."
"You know I love you."
She paused thoughtfully. "No," she said finally. I'm not even sure of that anymore. I thought so a little while ago, Out ... she bit her lip. " ... when, when you made love to me this morning, it wasn't because you wanted me. It was because you had to prove to yourself that you are still a man."
He said nothing, but she felt something ugly in the way he looked at her now. She had always been afraid of his anger before. Yet now she felt the stir of an emotion she had never expected to have toward him, something very like contempt. And she knew that as long as he could not respect himself, she would find it almost impossible to do so either.
Still, she loved him and she felt ashamed and sorry for what had been happening between them. It was too late now to go back and try to start over. But se had to make one final attempt.
"Please listen to me. You must understand.
I love you enough to wait forever, if we have to.
But I just can't go on like this. It's making a nervous wreck out of me ... out of both of us."
When, he spoke, his voice was cold, controlled. "When did you make up this pretty little speech, dear?"
She went cold, hearing the contempt she had felt for him being directed now at herself.
"You don't love me," he said. "You got over that the day I cracked up. All you ever wanted from me was a little excitement ... thrills. Don't think I don't know your story. You want to be wanted, you say? What a laugh."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean you're a cheap, lying bitch, that's what I mean. I've wanted you like nobody else ever could. I wanted you this morning that way ... because I love you.
She heard the strange, almost whining tone of his voice ... heard it and knew he had not really understood a word she had said to him. She had not realized the extent to which he had been able to delude himself to shirk the blame unto her for their problems. Yet she knew it now.
"I can't fight you anymore," she said. "What would you like me to do?"
He snorted disgustedly. "What the hell difference does it make what I want? All I ever wanted from you was a little love and understanding. But you can't give me even that."
"Would you like me to leave?" she asked quietly:
"Oh, sure. You'd like that now, wouldn't you? Then you could do anything you please and not have to feel guilty." He propped himself up high on the pillows. He looked at her now with hatred in his eyes. "You're not going anywhere or I'll kill you. You're still my wife."
She held herself "tightly together. "I thought perhaps you had forgotten that," she said. "You've been treating me more like a prostitute."
She saw" him flush angrily, the color creeping into his cheeks, his neck bulging with fury. He glared at her. Then he looked away.
She knew she had lost him.
"Get the hell out of here." his voice came low and full of hatred. "And stay out."
She started to protest. "But you said...."
"I don't care what I said. You're not worth it."
She took a step toward him, her hand extended. "Jerry, you don't mean that."
"Keep away from me."
"I just wanted to...." she thought quickly.... "to fix the blanket."
"Leave it alone."
Suddenly she could not bear the tension for another moment. Tears rose to her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. She flung herself toward him, needing for him to hold her, to tell her that he wanted and needed her.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and flung her away from him.
Her hip grazed the edge of the night table. Too shocked to speak she stood rubbing the bruised hip, watching him and waiting.
He glared back at her for a long moment.
Finally he said, "Now get out of here and leave me alone."
The sound of the doorbell broke the tense silence of the room.
For a moment she stood stiffly and rigidly. Then, slowly, she went out into the hall.
She reached the door, thinking it must be the nurse. Hurriedly she wiped her eyes of the fresh tears and opened the door.
CHAPTER EIGHT
When she opened the door, she saw miss Crane, the new nurse for her husband.
The woman stood taller than Helen, her figure firm and trim inside its uniform. It was the woman's face especially the cold eyes, which made her uneasy. Hard, unrelenting eyes. And she knew instinctively that this woman would ruin things between ferry and herself, as efficiently as a bomb.
"Mrs. Carterman?"
The cold voice cut grated against her nerves and she started self-consciously, realizing that she had been staring at the woman. "Yes, I'm sorry. Please come in."
The nurse picked up the black valise beside her and followed Helen inside. Without turning to look at her, Helen felt the woman examining, evaluating, measuring everything in the apartment.
It was foolish of her to be afraid of this woman. After all, Fred had recommended her highly, lie must know what he was doing.
"I've fixed up my husband's den for you. It's right down the hall ... near the bedroom."
She started down the hall with Miss Crane right behind her. "I hope you'll be comfortable here." She wished the woman would say something.
Miss Crane set the bag firmly beside the couch. She glanced quickly around the room and nodded. Then she looked directly at Helen. "You've been crying," she said matter-of-factly.
Helen's hands flew to her cheeks, still flushed and damp from her tears. She must look a sight. A fine impression she must be making on this stranger.
Miss Crane did something with her face that was probably meant to be a smile. "I didn't mean to startle you," she said. "Dr. Olman has told me all about vour husband's case." She smiled again. "I'm sure it hasn't been easy for u "
'No, it hasn't." Something about the way Miss Crane looked at her set Helen's teeth on edge. And the way she had said all about Jerry's case. Had T'red really told her even-thing."
She dismissed the thought that came to her mind quickly. Fred wouldn't have told anyone a-bout that. Yet she knew that the woman must know of her husband's impotence and Miss Crane was hardly the type to sympathize with a woman's need for sexual outlet. She looked as though sex were an experience she wanted no part of.
As soon as you've gotten settled," Helen said evenly, "I'll introduce you to my husband."
"Then by all means, let's go in. I'm as settled as I'll ever be."
In spite of the worries nibbling around the edges of her mind, Helen felt herself beginning to relax about the woman. It might not be such a bad idea to have someone like her around, alter all. Certainly Jerry needed someone with a little more strength and purpose than she herself had been able to offer him.
When they entered the bedroom, Jerry hunched himself up against the pillows, but made no sign of greeting to either of them. He looked gaunt, inexpressibly tired, his mouth drawn. Helen realized suddenly that he had not seemed this much in pain even immediately after the accident. And she knew the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach to guilt ... and fear.
Yet she approached the bed with as much outward assurance as though things were ideal between them. "Darling, this is Miss Crane," she said.
I le did not even glance at them. I le turned his head toward the window, determinedly proceeded to ignore them both.
Helen looked up at the new nurse and lifted her shoulders in a gesture of helplessness and apology.
The woman pursed her. lips thoughtfully for a moment and frowned a deep furrow between her eyes. Then very deliberately, she stepped around the end of the bed and into the line of his vision.
She held out her hand. "Mr. Carterman?"
He hesitated, meeting the woman's gaze steadily. She smiled as he raised his arm stiffly to shake hands. Obviously, Miss Crane had met and managed Jerry's kind before.
There was no hint of triumph on the nurse's face. As she began to straighten up the rumpled sheets, her movements were crisp and efficient. Jerry made no sign of objection to her fussing.
Yet Helen could see the resentment and suspicion in his eyes as he watched her move about the room. And she knew that he was still condemning her for the woman's presence in their home.
"You didn't finish your lunch," the woman said, tapping the edge of the night table with one finger. She glanced accusingly from the untouched tray to his annoyed face. "I'm not hungry."
"Well, now. If you expect to get out of that bed...." She picked up the tray and started with it toward the door. She nodded to Helen. "If you'll just show me to the kitchen...."
Helen jumped as though she had been slapped. "On, yes. Of course." She glanced for a second at jerry, who was glowering after Miss Crane's back, then followed the nurse quickly out of the room.
In the kitchen, Miss Crane immediately acquainted herself with the arrangement.
Helen stood just inside the doorway, watching, wondering what, if anything, she was expected to do.
And suddenly she did not want the nurse to cook for Jerry, to feed him and tend to all the duties that were rightly hers.
She took a step forward into the room. "Let me help you," Sue said, "I don't mind the cooking."
Miss Crane slid a steak in under the broiler. "It's no trouble," she said over her shoulder. "Besides, I like to take care of everything for my patient. That way, I'm better able to judge the progress he's making."
Furthermore," she went on, "your husband will be on a special diet from here on in. We have to build up his strength, you know, now that he'll be getting up soon, though I think maybe the Doctor's hurrying things a bit."
"What do you mean?"
The woman's face grew serious. "He doesn't look at all well to me," she said, "nervous and fretful."
Helen sighed and sat down on a chair next to the table. "It's just today. We...." She paused uncertainly, wondering just how much she dare say.
Miss Crane didn't wait for her to finish. "I think I understand, Mrs. Carterman. Apparently your husband doesn't realize that you have had problems, too." She smiled. "Men are like that sometimes."
The tone of her voice did not so much as waver. Yet Helen felt herself becoming wary, defensive. Maybe it was her own guilt. Maybe it was all in her own warped imagination. Still, she had the uncomfortable feeling of being bated. She could not understand what Miss Crane might be trying to do. But, whatever it was, she knew that she did not like this woman ... not at all.
She sat watching the nurse prepare Jerry's meal. Neither of them made any further attempt at conversation, and Helen was thankful for the moments of quiet. Yet she sat tensely on the edge of her chair.
When it was ready, the nurse swung the tray easily off the cupboard and started out of the kitchen.
Helen rose quickly to follow her. "I think perhaps you'd better wait her," the nurse said crisply. "Since he's already upset." She stood looking after the woman, clenching and unclenching her hands, suffering die indignity of impotent rage. She had had just about enough of her, and the woman hadn't vet even unpacked her bag.
Yet, Helen realized that there was nothing she could do ... absolutely nothing, if she loved Jerry for Miss Crane had been sent to help him get hack on his feet again. She was obviously very capable at her job. left alone, she was far better equipped to care for Jerry than Helen, herself would ever be.
What an empty, futile thing her life had become, first, site had allowed herself to become obsessed by her need for sexual satisfaction and sheii she had realized the utter hopelessness of promiscuity, she had resolved to sublimate her needs and devote herself, heart and soul, to helping Jerry. Now that even he no longer wanted or needed her ... what was she to do."
Miss Crane returned with Jerry's tray.
"I'll take it," Helen said, taking the tray from the woman's hands and sliding the dishes from it onto the sink.
"He ate everything," the nurse said complacently. "I think we'll get along just fine."
Helen glanced away so that Miss Crane would not see the pain in her eyes. She did not need to be told that Jerry responded favorably to everyone but herself. She already knew that. And for an instant she wanted to shout at the woman, tell her to get out of their house.
Instead, she managed a smile. "I'm certainly glad to hear that," she said. "I'm afraid I haven t been a very good nurse. Perhaps it's because...."
"It takes an impersonal attitude no wife could have," she interrupted. "I'm sure you've done your best. You love your husband."
She said it as a statement of fact, yet Helen heard it as a question and knew that the nurse had meant it that way. Still, she let it pass without comment, not wanting to cause a disturbance. She turned back to the sink and busied herself with the dishes.
"Well, if you'll excuse me ... I'd like to unpack."
"What, time would you like dinner?" Helen asked half-heartedly, dreading the thought of sitting down to eat with the woman.
"Oh, don't give it a thought. I'll handle everything. I'll just take myself a little something later on."
Helen listened to the solid thud of the woman's flat heels echo along the hall. She whipped a towel off the rack next to the sink and picked up a dish. Her hands shook so that she could hardly hold onto the dish. She set it into the cupboard, then reached for a cup. It slipped from her fingers and clattered into the sink.
She flung the towel away from her and ran from the room. In the living room she started toward the couch, wanting to throw herself face downward and sob out the unhappiness, the frustration that had been building up in her all day.
Yet she realized, she didn't dare. What if the nurse should hear? What if she told ferry?
She went into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. She took a couple of aspirin with a gulp of water. It wouldn't really help, she knew.
Dropping her things around her as she undressed, she stood dismally in the center of the bathroom, examining the bruises Fred had left on the insides of her thighs. Had it been only yesterday? Already her body had forgotten. There was nothing now but the bruises ... and the shame.
She turned on a blast of hot water in the shower. She had to admit she didn't really feel like doing much of anything.
Moving the rough cloth slowly over her body, she considered how she might best approach Fred.
He had every reason, after all, to consider her a slut. And no matter how vehemently she might try to deny his accusations, she could not deny the truth herself. She knew it would never happen again.
But even as she thought this, her body screamed in protest. Everywhere she touched with the cloth, the flesh responded eagerly, anxiously, wanting more. And, as awareness of this seeped into her consciousness, she felt herself gradually losing control. She could not forget her need nor could she fulfill it.
She turned off the water, but se did not have the strength to move.
She became aware finally of the coldness of the tiles creeping into her skin, numbing her. And she stepped out onto the bathmat.
Grabbing a fluffy towel, she wrapped it around herself and rubbed briskly, trying to get warm.
Her only hope now was with Jerry. She knew that she must tell him everything that had happened ... Tell him and pray that he could forgive her. Perhaps together they would be able to find a way.
She dressed carefully with a shaky hand.
After a final check in the full-length mirror behind the door, she left the bathroom grimly determined to face Jerry and have this thing out now.
She thought for a moment that he was sleeping, but as she quietly approached the bed, she saw his eyelids open ever so slightly and knew he watched her every move.
She took a deep breath and with it summoned up every ounce of courage she had left. "Jerry...."
"You still here?"
"Darling, I ... I have to talk to you about us," she finished weakly. If only he would stop fighting her, just for a moment.
"Why don't you give up?" he finally said. "Don't you know yet it's over between us?"
"Do you mean that, Jerry?" Yes.
"I'm sorry, darling," she said very quietly, so he would not know her misery. She felt as though her heart had leaped into her throat.
"I only wanted to tell you...."
"I don't want to hear...."
This time, when he closed his eyes and turned away from her, she did not try to draw him back. She felt utterly defeated now.
She hardly saw the nurse, hovering in the hall, cold anof disapproving. She wasn't concerned now. Nothing mattered except getting as far away as possible from here.
Quickly she grabbed her handbag and left the apartment without any hesitation or thought.
CHAPTER NINE
On her way, she went over all the recent occurrances. What was happening to them' What would happen next. Was there any hope?
Jerry was being childish, feeling quite sorry for himself but then he had a right to. But he certainly had no business throwing her out of the house like he did.
Why couldn't he struggle like a man, instead of drowning in self-pity?
Well, that was his concern. His and the nurse. He didn't need a wife anymore. He had made that clear.
Maybe she should take a room in a hotel, find herself a job. She could still type well enough. Maybe they would have the marriage annulled because of his condition. She would really be free then, to seek a new love, to find the fulfillment she so desperately craved. She would and then what? A woman who could not even be faithful to a broken man.
Who would want her now? Not even Fred, for all his fine words. He only desired her as a sexual partner, of that she felt sure. And she "id not intend to be anyone's mistress.
Helen walked down to the edge of the lake, on the far side of the park. An early evening breeze ruffled the surface of the water and she cupped her elbows in either hand, aware suddenly of the chill and the growing darkness.
For a while she strolled beside the lake, watching couples walking ... couples....
No one seemed to be alone but she. The sense of isolation only served to increase her depression. Her head ached and she felt positive that her right heel had blistered. She was miserable and tired and more than anything, she wanted to stretch out and sleep.
"Yet ... where? All the determination she had felt only moments before drained away.
She sat down on a bench beside the path and slipped off her right shoe. With her thumb, she explored the tender area and found a blister. Whether she liked it or not, she couldn't possibly just continue to walk around all night. She could barely walk now. She put the shoe back on and started to get up.
Someone came toward her along the path, walking slowly, but obviously headed in her direction, she watched him approach, curiously, wondering what he might want with her. She did not recall having seen him before.
Short and stocky, with a thick mass of oily dark hair, the man was neatly dressed in a dark suit and overcoat. As he stopped a few feet away from her, he hunched the heavy coat forward on his shoulders and jammed his hands into his pockets.
He stood staring at her.
For a moment she waited, expecting him to speak. For some reason she still felt that she must know him from somewhere. He certainly didn't look like the type to accost woman in the park. Yet, as he continued to stare in silence, she felt as though the night had suddenly grown very cold. Long fingers of fear crept up.
She took a deep breath, trying to get a grip on her chattering nerves. "What do you want?" she croaked.
The man said nothing.
Yet suddenly she knew that she had better get out of there. And fast. She made a movement to rise and grimaced with pain. She couldn't possibly run with that blister ... not even to save her life.
Apparently her movement had been exactly the wrong thing to do. He took several steps toward her, then stopped again.
And now she could see the furtive movements of his hands where the coat covered his legs.
She stood up abruptly and started to run a-cross the grass, toward the entrance.
He grabbed her before she had gone far. As his coat fell away, she saw that he was exposed. He grabbed her by the wrist and pushed her hand hard against him.
He pushed her down on her knees.
She fell onto the grass. She felt his fingers tearing at her clothing, shoving at her skirt. The flimsy material of her panties tore in his hands.
And then he was on top of her, parting her legs wide with his body.
Then there was nothing but the heat of him as he went into her. fie flattened her naked buttocks into the damp grass.
All she could think was, I deserve this.
She heard the breatli go out of him when he exploded within her and then he lay like a dead weight on top of her. She felt herself losing consciousness.
The water lapped languidly against the lake shore. Somewhere on the street a whistle blew shrilly. Yet she lay still for several seconds listening before she remembered where she was and how she came to be there. She sat up then and looked around hastily for her attacker. But he had already gone.
She dragged herself to her feet, wobbling precariously on her feet. Forlornly she picked her way back toward the pavement, smoothing her skirt down as best she could. Retrieving her purse from where she had dropped it in the grass, she began to make her way back toward the entrance. All of her ached as though she had been beaten by sists and she limped badly now. She did not know where she was going. She didn't care, yet she had to get away from the spot now.
Ahead of her she saw a man coming toward her, walking a dog on a leash.
Insanely she remembered her attacker. She began to run across the grounds, stumbling, her body aching with fear as she fled. when she reached the dark fringing of trees, she knew she had to stop. She collapsed, sobbing under a bush. She lay there stiffly, her body frozen with bitterness and hopelessness.
CHAPTER TEN
Then after a while she pulled herself together. She wiped her eyes with her handkerchief.
She thought, I must be a sight an awful mess.
In the light from a street lamp she examined the extent of her damage. Her skirt was torn and reaked with dirt stains, her stockings ripped. Somehow she had lost the heel of her left shoe. And her panties ... he must have taken them with him. He might be one of those.
She realized that she should report this immediately to the police. Rut they would ask questions, take her home, probably talk to her husband. And he would tell them about her, all right ... tell them that she was a tramp who picked up any man she could get. Who would believe her then, when her own husband pointed guilt at her?
She made her way slowly along the edge of the park toward the entrance.
She had to go somewhere. In this condition she could hardly wander the streets. She could go home ... But where was home?
Fred would be glad to take her in. glad to see that she had left Jerry. But she had already promised herself to stay away from him. The price she would have to pay for his help was more than she wanted to pay.
There was no one left but Iris, the only friend she had now. Vet how could she face the woman in this condition? Only a short time ago she had been babbling to her about becoming the perfect wife. Would Iris believe her story about the man in the park? After all, why should she, when she had seen Helen in a similar predicament just yesterday?
Still she realized that she had very little choice in the matter. As she came out of the park, she turned up town in the direction of an outdoor phone booth she had noticed earlier, afraid to take the chance of walking into a store.
She found a dime in her purse and dialed Iris' number. The phone rang six times before she answered. Her voice sounded like she had just gotten out of bed.
"Did I wake you?" Helen asked.
"'I was just ... resting."
The peculair tone in Iris' voice bothered her. Yet she had too much on her mind to be rattled now by such a minor thing. "I ... I'd like to come up," she blurted. "If you don't mind. Something's happened and I need your help."
"Proceed at your own risk, honey," Iris cooed through the phone. "I've got a half a high on now and I'll probably be crocked by the time you get here."
Helen sighed with genuine relief. "I can use a little of that, myself."
She hung up and stepped to the curb to hail a cab.
The cabbie looked at her strangely, but he reached back to open the door and helped her inside.
She gave him Iris' address, then slumped back against the cushions, welcoming the chance to relax and stretch out her aching body.
She was relieved that Iris had merely been drinking. For a moment she had thought she might nave interrupted her with a man. After all, the woman had quite openly admitted being unfaithful.
It had never occurred to Helen to wonder what had driven Iris to seek love away from home. Ralph was obviously in love with her. Why, then did she turn to others?
She sighed, realizing there was still much she did not understand about the world. How could she expect to make sense out of Iris' problem when she could make none out of her own?
She tried hard not to think about the attack in the park. It had been foolish of her to walk alone in the park at dusk. She had no one to blame but herself.
Yet she knew in her heart that it was Jerry she blamed. Not only for tonight, but for Fred. Also for her inability to cope with the sexual situation resulting from the accident.
She told herself over and over again that it wasn't fair to blame him, that he had too much thrown at him all at once. No one could be expected to respond any differently than he had. Yet no matter how often she said it. there it was. The ugly truth. She had lost faith in him.
It was high time she began making plans for herself that did not include him.
By the time the cab drew up in front of Iris' house, she had worried herself into a state of nervous exhaustion. She knew she would never be able to walk as far as the door on that blistered heel. Carefully she worked the shoe off. The stocking was wet with blood where the blister had broken open and rubbed. Carrying her shoes, she got out of the cab and started up the walk.
She heard the cabbie sigh as he drove off.
Iris was waiting with the door open by the time she reached the entrance. As she saw her friend's dishevelled condition in the glow of the porch light, she stepped forward to lend a hand.
Helen sagged limply against Iris' arm.
"I guess you meant it," Iris murmured. She led Helen inside and closed the door. "Something happened."
"I thought you were drunk," Helen said, trying to offset the impression of her appearance. "You said on the phone...."
"Forget what I said on the phone. What happened?"
Helen lowered herself stiffly onto the foam rubber couch and sat carefully erect on the edge of it. I asked first.
Iris burst out laughing, then came over to her quickly as Helen's face puckered with confusion, he sat down beside her and put a hand on either side of the girl's face.
"Forgive me," Iris said gently. "It's just that you looked so funny, darling."
Helen felt as though the flesh under Iris' hands had burst into heat. There was something infinitely gentle, almost caressing about the way Iris touched her now, something about the way she smiled into Helen's eyes that touched a responsive chord deep inside he and made her uneasy. She knew that she was flushed with embarrassment, yet she could do nothing to control the unexpected reaction.
"I'm all right now." She tried to keep her tone light. "Really, I am."
Iris shook her head disbelievingly. "You look pretty battered to me, honey. But I; won't ask. any questions, if that's what you want."
"All I want is to stretch out for a few moments and relax."
"At once" Iris stood up beside the couch, then stooped to swing Helen s legs up onto the pillows. 'There. Now, you just take it easy and I'll bring some ice for your lip."
Helen sighed again, feeling intensely weary. "It might do me more good if you put that ice in a glass and poured a little liquor over it."
Iris hesitated, then agreed amiably. "Anything you say, honey, but I hope you know what you're doing."_
"I know, all right."
She watched Iris move off toward the kitchen. She was glad now that she had come here. The woman's easy charm, the cozy, comfortable room did much to ease her troubled spirit. She knew without asking that Iris would let her stay the night. And in the morning, perhaps she would sec about finding a job and a place to live.
But there would be plenty of time to think about that later. All she wanted at the moment was to forget everything. And in Iris' company, she felt that she would be able to do so.
Iris came back into the room with the liquor.
"I told you once before, this is not the way, out. ,AR that it will get you is a hangover.
For a moment Helen studied the ice floating in her glass. "I've tried everything else," she said. "Nothing seems to work."
"Maybe you've overlooked a thing or two," Iris said, very quietly, looking at Helen. "After all, you're not the only one around with problems."
"I suppose you've solved all yours," Helen snapped impatiently.
Iris smiled, but only with her lips. Her eyes showed a suffering that rose from deep inside. "No, I haven't solved mine, Helen, but at least I try."
"I'm sorry," Helen said, embarrassed by her own clumsiness. "I keep forgetting ... I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. It's just ... well, you must realize that my situation isn't quite as simple as yours, Iris. After all, Jerry has been very badly hurt. It's been a month already and we don't know when he might be fully recovered. Things haven't gone very well between us. I mean we haven't...." She felt as though the words had stuck last in her throat.
"What you mean, I presume, is that he can't make love to you any more."
"Yes."
"I wish I could say the same."
"What:'" Helen was sure that she couldn't have heard her correctly. Yet she felt a peculiar twinge of excitement begin to stir along her spine.
Iris shook her head and abruptly stood up. "Don't pay any attention to me, little one," she murmured. " I'm not the one to give you advice."
"Xo. Wait. I want to know what you mean."
"Maybe some day I'll tell you, but right now, it's time for you to get some sleep."
Helen finished the drink and set the glass down. She felt uncomfortable now, yet she could not quite put a finger on the source of her discomfort.
"Iris," she said, "you don't love Ralph, do you?"
Iris started to laugh but quickly got control of herself. She put on an expression to match Helen's. "No," she said seriously. "I don't. I never have."
"I don't understand. Why...."
"I won't try to explain. We do many things that don't make sense, even to ourselves. I married Ralph because he loved me and I needed to be loved. He's away a good deal of the time, so we manage. It's not very satisfying, but it's a kind of security."
"But you said there have been others, Iris. What if you find a man you love?"
Iris smiled and patted Helen. "Don't worry. There's not the slightest chance." She took Helen's hand. "Come with me."
Helen let Iris lead her out of the room and down the hall.
She felt she was trying to say something.
But she had no idea what it could be.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Iris prepared a bath for Helen and left her as she took off her clothes.
She sank slowly in the hot soothing water.
After a long relaxing soak she started to feel much better. The warmth of the water and the liquor she had consumed earlier combined to sooth her upset nerves, lulling her with the hopes of relaxation. The time with the man who raped her in the park had already become vague, not forgotten but to be brought up about later when she was emotionally stronger to accept it.
Later leisurely rubbing her lovely nakedness, she listened for sounds of Iris moving about the house. She hoped that Iris would have gotten over her peculiar mood by now and that she would not insist on going to sleep right away.
She pulled on the nightgown Iris had left for her, then slipped into a soft pink robe. The material felt good against her body and she stretched languidly, enjoying fr the moment the sensuous thrill of it. She had begun to hate her body or the senseless demands it made on her, driving her to her own destruction. Vet now she felt utterly relaxed, calm, in control of herself and she believed herself capable of handling any challenge.
"Don't give it a thought. I can see Elinor anytime. Hut you...." She didn't finish the statement, but cupped Helen's chin in one hand and tilted her face to the light. "How's that lip?"
"Practically healed. I feel wonderful."
Iris frowned at her, her eyes dark with concern.
"No, really. I mean it," she insisted. "A couple of hours ago, I thought the end of the world had come. And now ... I'm ready for anything."
Iris leaned back against the wall and folded her arms across her stomach. Her tanned face looked flushed and a little worried. "You'd better get to bed anyhow," she said seriously. "You've had a pretty rough day, judging from appearances and I don't want you passing out on me.
Helen felt a happy laugh bubbling up inside her. She couldn't explain why, but she was beginning to be lightheaded. And the worried frown on Iris' face looked so out of keeping with her own mood.
"It can't be the alcohol," Iris said. "You-didn't have enough."
"It's just me, Helen laughed. She felt so cheerful she couldn't bear to have her friend be unhappy. "Don't you see? I've been so worried about everything and now, none of it seems important anymore."
"Iris shook her head. "No, I don't see," she said, her tone still serious. "All I can see is that you're being half hysterical and telling me you're fine. I don't think it's funny. Still I don't suppose there's much I can do about it." Helen just smiled.
"Come on, then. We'll have coffee and you can tell me all."
In the kitchen she stood just inside the door, watching Iris bustle about fixing coffee. She felt too excited to sit while someone else was being active. She moved across to the cupboard.
"I'll do that," Iris said quickly, as she reached for a cup. "You just take it easy."
"Everything's worked itself out clearly in my mind. The things that have been bothering me are no longer problems and i know exactly what I'm going to do with my future."
"Let's go sit in the living room," Iris said. "At least let me sit down and be comfortable if we're going to be serious."
Helen enjoyed having Iris pamper her like this. She knew she would have welcomed attention from anyone just. now. But there was one-thing special in the quality of Iris' friendship that comforted her. She let the woman sit her down on the couch and pour her a cup of coffee.
Iris took a cup for herself and crossed to a chair. "Let's hear it ... whatever it is you're so excited about."
"Well, I haven't really told you what happened," she began, "so I suppose we'd better start there." She paused. Then, looking directly into Iris' eyes, she said, "ferry and I are through."
"Oh?" j "For good."
"Uh huh, and it seems to me that just this morning you had decided to be forever faithful and true."
Helen smiled. "I deserve that," she admitted. "I have been carrying on like a fool. But things have changed since this morning."
"He threw you out."
She was startled by the accuracy of Iris' guess. "Yes," she said, "He did. But what difference does that make now?"
Iris sighed tiredly. "None, now, but it will."
"And?"
"Because you feel guilty, you'll decide that you really love him after all, no matter what's happened before. You'll go back."
"But that's just the point, Iris. I don't love him. I couldn't possibly love him and feel the way I do now."
Iris gave a short, hard laugh and, hearing it, Helen felt her own high spirits beginning to wane. Perhaps Iris had an insight she herself did not have, based on experience.
"You make me sound pretty foolish," she murmured.
She heard Iris pull herself up out of the chair and then she was sitting beside heron the couch, not touching her quite, but very close.
"Helen, listen to me for a minute. Nothing would make me happier, believe me, than to think that you really had decided what you want. But, honey, it's not that easy. You haven't stopped loving ferry just because he can't satisfy you sexually anymore." She touched Helen's arm gently with her finger. "And stop blushing."
"I'm sorry," Helen whispered.
"But it's always convenient," Iris went on, "'to have a good excuse for being unfaithful.
And if you could manage to convince yourself that you really don't love him, then you could do anything you wanted to do without feeling "uilty. But you're lying to yourself and I hope I can make you realize that before it's too late."
Helen turned slightly against the pillows, but kept her glance averted. "Aren't you the one who was encouraging me just the other day to accept this business as being natural?"
"That was the other day. I've changed my mind."
"But why? I'm still the same person I was then." Helen could make no sense out of any f this, she realized. She had counted on Iris to help her, to strengthen her own convictions. Yet Iris had denied everything that she, herself believed.
She faced Iris squarely. "I don't understand what you're trying to tell me."
Iris looked at her for a long moment. Then, suddenly, she got up and walked away.
Helen was more confused now than ever. For a moment she believed that she must have offended Iris to have made her jump away like that.
Yet, when Iris turned to face her, her features were soft with emotion. Her voice, as she spoke now, was gentle and kind. "Helen, I had no right to tell you the things I did," she said. "I suppose that I wanted to believe that you were like me ... like Elinor. But I realize now that I was mistaken. You love your husband. That's obvious. You don't think so at the moment, I know. But that's only because you're unhappy and confused."
Her voice lowered and her eves clouded with an emotion Helen could not interpret. "I've never loved my husband. I've never loved any man.
That's the difference between us, honey. The rules I live by just won't work for you."
Helen leaned forward. Despite the kindliness in Iris' tone, she felt that a rift had been made in their relationship. Iris no longer considered her a real friend, no longer trusted her as she once had. And she knew she could not afford to let this happen. She needed her friendship now.
For, whether Iris accepted the tact or not, Helen knew that she would never return to Jerry. She knew she would need Iris' friendship, her help.
"I'm not sure I understand "everything you've said," Helen said. "And I don't want to argue about it anymore tonight. I'm much too upset to think clearly."
"Of course," Iris said. "That's why I wanted to pack you off to bed as soon as you got out of the tub. No one could be expected to think clearly in the state you're in."
Helen sighed and pushed herself up from the couch. "All right. I give up."
Iris nodded? "That's better. I've got the bed all ready for you."
Helen hesitated. She had no right to keep bothering Iris, yet she knew she would not be able to sleep now. Not alone. "What about your
"Oh, I won't be sleepy for hours yet. After all, I haven't had as much excitement today as you."
"Well...."
Iris stepped toward her briskly and cupped one hand under Helen's elbow. "You're worse than a kid."
She let herself be pushed into the bedroom and she had to admit to herself that the big double bed looked inviting. She hadn't slept in a real bed since the night before Jerry's accident.
And she had forgotten how truly exhausted she was. Yet now, sitting on the edge of the bed, she knew it would be good to stretch out.
Iris took the robe from her and draped it over a chair. Helen climbed in and snuggled down.
"Good night," Helen said in a soft voice.
Iris smiled warmly. "Good night, dear."
And then the room was dark.
She heard Iris pull the door closed behind her and walk softly back to the living room. She lay in the center of the bed, breathing deeply. It sounded large in the darkness. It was always like this in the dark, lately. Fear, reaching out to strangle her ... fear, freezing her mind.
Yet what was she afraid of now? Before, it had been uncertainty. Her days had been empty, her nights tilled with lewd dreams. The dreams had given her an awareness of a need she had tried to deny. Well, there was no need to deny it any longer. If Jerry had no right to behave as though everything that had happened was her fault. And she would prove, even to Iris, that she could get along without him.
She gradually let herself relax, stretching her limbs comfortably and drifting into a soft half sleep.
And then the nightmare started. The lake ... the man in the dark suit ... coining toward her ... tearing at her clothes ... the coat falling open.
She screamed.
She felt someone shaking her. She screamed again. "Helen ... baby ... wake up."
Dimly she heard Iris' voice, felt Iris' arms go around her. She knew then that she was safe. She shook with sobs.
Iris sat beside her on the bed, cuddling her close. "Go ahead, honey. Cry."
Helen felt Iris' fingers stroking her hair, soothing her. She nestled her face against the woman's neck, trying to stop the flow of tears, yet not wanting to give up the comfort of her attention.
Finally she took a hankie from the woman and dabbed at her eyes.
"Better?"
She tried to answer, but could only sniffle and gasp out a hoarse sound.
Iris laughed and sat her up straight, holding herself at arms' length. "Now, that's more like it," she said. "You're almost smiling."
Despite herself, Helen did smile. "I'll be all right," she managed. "Just a nightmare."
Iris nodded. "I didn't realize how upset you were or I wouldn't have left you alone."
"I didn't either," she said. "I thought I had put it out of my mind." She glanced up at Iris cautiously. "Maybe I'd better have another drink, so I can sleep."
"No you don't; you have to live with yourself sometime. You might as well begin now."
"Please."
Iris stood up and switched on the bedside lamp. "There," she said. "That'll do just as well. I'll stay with you until you sleep."
"But I won't be able to sleep. I know myself too well."
Iris sighed. "All right. But this is the last time." She went out of the room and returned carrying a tumbler half full of liquor.
Helen took the glass and eagerly gulped down the contents. The whiskey hit her stomach like a hot fist. She felt her senses reeling and shook her head sharply to regain her equilibrium. She had forgotten that she had not eaten all day and now the liquid burned through her, fuzzing her mind.
Iris set the glass on the night table. "I'll be right back," she said. "Try to sleep." She switched off the light and left.
Alone again in the dark, she had a sudden, senseless urge to giggle. She felt very proud of herself for the way she had managed Iris.
And the alcohol had been exactly what she needed.
Yet even now she felt the vague stirring of the one sensation she most wanted to stifle. The familiar aching in the pit of her stomach, the tightening muscles of her thighs. Uneasily she realized that the alcohol had merely rekindled the flame of her desire.
She turned onto her stomach and buried her face in the pillow. She must not let Iris know.
When Iris came back into the room, she did not turn on the light, but crossed directly to the bed. Helen felt the bed sag as the woman got in beside her.
Iris stayed far over on her side of the bed. Helen groped in the darkness toward the lamp. "What's that for? I thought you were asleep."
"I was looking for you," Helen said innocently. "You're so far away."
"Oh?"
Helen giggled. "Do you hate me?"
"It would be a lot easier if I did," Iris murmured.
"What?"
"Turn off the light."
"Not till you move over here. I'm lonesome." She hardly realized what she was saying. Yet she wanted Iris to be close to her, close enough to touch. She wanted her to hold her again, the way she had a few moments before. Maybe then the aching need would quiet ... maybe then she would be able to sleep.
Iris moved a bit closer.
"Here," Helen said to her.
Propping herself on one elbow, Iris leaned across her and snapped oil the light. Before she could lie down again Helen slipped an arm around the woman's waist and held her fast.
"You don't know what you're doing," Iris whispered.
Helen felt the woman's body warm against her own. Indeed, she didn't know what she was doing. She didn't even care. She knew only that her body burned with the need to be caressed, to be loved.
Her hand moved to caress Iris' back.
She heard Iris suck in her breath. And then the woman's mouth was touching her own, gently, searchingly.
She pulled Iris hard against her, remembering only the demands of her love-starved body.
And suddenly Iris was no longer resisting her. Her hands, her lips played over Helen's body with sure knowledge, her tongue probing and finding the tender, intimate areas of her flesh.
Helen abandoned herself willingly to the waves of sensation rolling through her, arousing her to a shuddering pinnacle of desire. She felt Iris' lips moving downward, burning a path of promise.
Then Iris' cheek was against her soft thigh.
"Do it: Oh, do it," she murmured.
And then the ecstatic explosion as she arched as she climaxed and pulsed and gushed with her reaction.
She lay still for a long time afterward, embracing Iris. She could not be sure yet just how she felt about her. Rut she was sure she had been as completely satisfied sexually by her as she had been by any man.
This was something to think of.
CHAPTER TWELVE
When she awoke the next day, she saw that Iris was not in bed next to her.
She stretched in the big bed and her body felt better than she had in a long time. While she lay there she thought of what happened the previous night.
The memory caused her to blush hotly. How could she ever explain to Iris, make her realize that she had never made love to another woman before? That the demands of her hot passions had stifled all hesitations.
And vet, she hadn't done anything, really except kiss and fondle her intimately. It had been Iris who had understood, who had known what to do to satisfy her need. And remembering what had happened between them, Helen realized that the women obviously knew very well what she was doing.
Suddenly many things became clear. She understood now why Iris felt as she did about men, about the man she had married. Understood, too, Elinor's hostility and if that were true, it could only mean that Iris had been attracted to her for some time.
She wasn't entirely sure she liked the thought that followed next. Yet it seemed logical enough. After all, she had enjoyed the experience with Iris thoroughly and she had been completely satisfied.
Surely that must mean....
"Hello," Iris called cheerily.
Helen had not heard her come in and she started, as though leis might have sensed her thoughts. But the woman's calm expression erased all fears.
Helen smiled warmly as Iris brought coffee. "What time is it? I feel like I've slept years."
"Almost twelve." Iris stepped back from the bed. "I patched up your skirt and had your shoe mended. So you're almost as good as new."
Uneasily Helen sensed that Iris was carefully avoiding the subject that, at the moment, interested her the most. She tried to recall something she might have done to alienate the woman. Yet she felt that Iris' hesitancy arose from somewhere outside herself. Per haps Iris regretted their intimacy.
Or maybe she had been disappointed.
"Iris," Helen said carefully. "I ... I want to explain to you about last night."
"You don't have to," Iris answered. "I just hope you forget it."
"Forget it?"
"ITt was my fault. I shouldn't have let you have that drink."
"But...."
"I can't honestly say I'm sorry, Helen. I only hope you'll be able to forgive me."
"Forgive you?" Helen wailed. "But, Iris, you don't understand. I wanted you to. I think I must have been wanting you to for a long time."
Iris sat down on the edge of the bed and took Helen's hands. "Honey, listen to me for a minute, will you?" Her tone was intensely serious. "I knew what you're thinking about yourself right now, but it isn't true. I told you yesterday that you're not like me. You're a perfectly normal, healthy woman, my dear. You've gotten yourself into a lousy situation as a result of Jerry's accident and I satisfied you last night. But that's no compliment-to me. You've been so tied up in knots that way, anyone would have served the purpose, my dear."
Iris continued, "So don't get any screwy ideas about yourself, baby. You didn't want me last night. I just happened to be handy."
Iris spoke so gently that Helen could not resent her words. Yet she was not prepared to agree with her, either. Surely she had responded to Iris last night, not just to a physical need. It was foolish of Iris to deny it.
Unless she were afraid. But of what?
"Iris, I want you to tell me the truth," Helen said quietly. "How do you feel about me?"
"That's not what we were discussing."
"That's what we're discussing now. I want to know, Iris."
"I can't see that it makes any difference. You're the one we've got to get straightened out."
"That's what I'm trying to do."
Slowly, Iris raised Helen's hand to her lips and touched it lightly with a kiss. "I'm in love with you, little one," she murmured. "'I have been, I think, since the first time I saw you."
Helen let he breath go in a long, contented sigh.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Iris questioned her.
"That's known as a sigh of relief, and may I point out to you, now that you've confessed, that you haven't even kissed me good morning?"
She felt the woman stiffen and draw still further away from her. Her eyes were wet with pain.
"Iris, what's wrong? Darling, what is it? What have I done?"
"Don't play games with me, Helen," Iris said hoarsely. "I know you can't possibly understand how I feel about you. I don't expect you to. But please, please don't make fun of me, baby."
Never had she felt more sincerely about anyone than she did about Iris at that moment. Vet the woman's hesitancy was obviously based on bitter experiences in the past. And she did not know how to hell her how sure she was of her own desires.
She leaned toward Iris and reached out to touch her hair, her face. "I could never make fun of you without making fun of me, too."
They searched deeply into each other's eyes.
Iris' arms went around her, holding her tight pushing her back against the pillows. Her tongue teased her earlobe, the hollow of her neck.
She heard herself whispering, "I want you, I want you!"
Iris was naked and upon her. Helen closed her eyes and waited, feeling the warm glow spreading out from her mid-section.
Then Iris red lips, the hot moist mouth, found a breast and the tongue teased the taut nipple Helen gasped and arched her body upward. He warm body made contact and Iris' mouth and tongue moved to the other breast....
Then the red lips were leaving traces of lip stick on pure, white flesh. As sinuous as a snake Iris was manipulating her body. She increased the intensity of her movements.
They molted together, kissing caressing stroking each other all over. Thus they loved till they stiffened in their moments and arched their bodies hard against each other in fulfillment ... as they kissed in their deepest passions. loiter Iris rolled away from her and lay on her back, her eyes open, staring at the ceiling.
Helen propped herself on one elbow and peer ed down curiously into the sad, beautiful face With the tip of a finger, she traced the outline of a smile around the woman's lips.
"Was it that terrible, darling?" Helen teased.
Iris' eyes brought her into focus. "You know better than that." It's just...."
"What?"
"I'll be so sorry to see you go."
Helen felt she must definitely have lost her sense of humor if this was meant to be funny Surely she couldn't be serious. If this hadn't proved....
"You will leave, you know," Iris went on.
"How can you say that, after...."
"I've made love to many women, my dear,' Iris said. "And believe me, honey, your heart's not in it. All you want is to be satisfied." She shook her head sadly. "I can't condemn you for that it is more then just taking ... there's the giving, too."
Helen felt herself blushing. Vet she could not very well deny the truth of Iris' words, twice she had let the woman make love to her abandoning herself wildly to the pleasure she gave her. Yet neither time had it occurred to her that Iris' need must be as strong as her own and in her heart she had to admit the validity of her words.
"Don't look so desolate," Iris chided. "I'm not blaming you. I'm a big girl. I should know better."
"Iris....," Helen moaned desperately.
Iris sat up quickly and kissed the tip of Helens nose. "Don't listen to me, honey. Sometimes I get carried away by the sound of my own voice."
Helen could not bear to have Iris blame herself for the failure of this thing between them. But before she could say another word, Iris got up.
"I'll bring your things," she said.
Then she was gone.
Helen sat on the bed looking after her.
Slowly she got out of bed. A half-formed scheme played around the edge of her mind. If Iris were willing, there was no reason she could see why they couldn't continue this relationship. She would be more than happy to give as well as receive. For, so long as her sexual demands were fulfilled, she knew she would be able to unravel the mess of her life, to function again like a normal human being.
"If Iris were willing....
"You'd better put something on."
Startled, Helen whirled to face her. Iris stood in the doorway, very deliberately keeping her glance from Helen's naked body.
Impishly Helen drew one shoulder back, jutting her breasts forward and up. She watched the pink creep into Iris' cheeks.
"What for?" she teased.
"Because if you don't," Iris said quietly, dropping the skirt onto a chair as she came forward, we're going to wind up back in bed." She stepped in close to Helen, her palms sliding under the heavy breasts. "And that wouldn't do at all...." She bent her head quickly and darted her tongue into the still moist cleavage. "Because right now I've got breakfast on the stove."
Helen laughed and kissed her on the mouth. "In that case, go and let me get dressed."
Humming to herself, Helen slipped into her clothing and borrowed a comb to smooth out her hair. Suddenly her life had become uncomplicated, all her confusions settling comfortably under the assurance that, with Iris' love and help, she would be able to solve everything. And together they would make everything come out all right.
For with Iris, she had found what she had been seeking all her life. Iris wanted her. Unconditionally. And it was to this Helen responded as much as to the woman herself.
If only Jerry had been able to love her like that.
She hurried out to the kitchen. As she entered, Iris turned toward her the telephone receiver in her hand.
"It's for you," Iris said unsteadily.
She took the receiver slowly, almost unwillingly not wanting to hear the voice on the other end of the phone, for she knew even before she spoke that the neat little dream she had planned for herself with Iris had already been destroyed.
"Hello...."she breathed. "Yes, yes. Of course I'm all right...."
She listened to Fred's voice explaining to her that he had found her address book and had been calling every name on the list in the hope of finding her. He spoke very precisely, as though preparing her for a shock that might prove too much for her.
Yet when he told her what had happened, she was not surprised.
"What happened?" Iris asked quietly."
"Jerry," she whispered. "He tried to get out of bed ... to find me and bring me home. Fred says he hurt himself badly."
"And he wants you."
Helen glanced at the woman quickly, sensing the sarcasm behind her words. "Yes. He....he wants me to come back."
"You're going back, aren't you?" she continued.
"I must. He needs me."
"Or rather you think you need him."
Helen stared at her, unable to answer that. Even a few moments ago, she had been positive that her husband was out of her life forever. And now.........
Now she could barely wait to be with him.
"dome on," Iris said, putting her arm around Helen. "I'll take you home."
Numbly, she allowed her friend to take her out of the apartment and help her into the car.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
On the way back she sat in a blizzard of indecision. She actually didn't know what to do.
She was stiff with dread and was afraid to face him.
Iris let her off in front of her apartment building with a promise to call Iris as soon as she could and she hurried inside. She was grateful that Iris had handled everything for her and she knew that, no matter what happened now, Iris would always to her true friend. Still, she felt that she had not done right with her. She had offered her body to the woman ... for her own pleasure and then had held back..
Quickly she blotted this line of thought out of her mind and went down the hall to her flat, fumbling in her bag for the key. As she reached the door, it swung wide to greet her. She hesitated.
Fred looked her over, slowly, critically, his glance settling finally on her still bruised lip. "I'm glad you decided to come," he said finally. "I'd ke to talk to you. About Jerry." She walked past him. She heard the door close quietly and his footsteps coming up behind her.
He touched her arm lightly and tried to peer into her eyes.
She saw the deep lines of concern etched across his brow and quickly averted her glance. She did not want him to see her guilt, her confusion. "Please don't lecture me. Even if I deserve it."
He stepped away, then turned to face her. "I wasn't about to," he said evenly. "I know what happened her yesterday. Miss Crane told me the whole story. And , believe me, the only reason I bothered to call...." He shrugged. "Well, you've told me that you love him, and I knew that you'd never forgive yourself if...."
"Yes," she interrupted quickly. She took a step toward the hall. "I'd better go in to him."
"There's no hurry. I've given him a sedative. He'll sleep for hours yet."
Sighing tiredly, she sat down in a huge armchair. "How is he, really?"
"That's pretty hard to say," he said slowly. "Physically, I can't say that he's actually worse than he was before. Rut mentally, things look pretty bad."
"How do you mean?"
"Oh, I suppose that I mean that he's given up the fight." He shoved his hands into his pockets and strolled away to the window. "As a doctor, I've done everything I can for his body. Rut he isn't responding to treatment because, apparently, he no longer cares."
She nodded dismally, understanding all to well what Fred meant.
"It's my fault," she said simply. "I had no business leaving him, no matter what happened between us."
"Maybe," he said. "But no one in your place would have done otherwise." For a moment his glance dropped and he seemed absorbed in the nails of his right hand. "It doesn't matter at this point what either of you should or should not nave done. What you've got to decide is what you will do now."
"Why, help him, of course. In any way I can," she said impatiently. "What did you expect?"
"First," he said evenly, "I would expect you to take time to think this thing through. You've "of to be honest with yourself" He looked at her levelly. "If you come back to him now and then, for any reason at all, decide to leave him again, I'm not sure that he would be able to recover. Before you see him, you must decide. And this is no time to be noble."
She stared at him blankly, unable to comprehend why he should be talking to her like this. He knew perfectly well, after all, that she was still in love with Jerry. Of course she would stay with him forever, no matter what might happen.
"I don't understand what you're trying to say, Fred, I'm so muddled in my own head, maybe I just can't think straight. But I can't see...."
"Helen, be reasonable. You didn't love Jerry any less a couple of days ago. Yet you came to me in a state of complete nervous exhaustion. The situation hasn't changed. If anything, it's worse. It's un-likely that he will ever again be a man in the sense that you need him to be. If you couldn't cope with that fact a few days ago, there is no reason to assume that you will be able to do so in the future."
She felt herself beginning to tighten up inside, her nerves and her fears responding spontaneously to his words. It sickened her to believe that she might be so shallow, that her life and love could revolve around the fulfillment of her sexual needs.
Vet everything he said was true. Perhaps it always would be true.
"I don't know," she said finally.
"I do," he said firmly. "You're a completely normal, healthy human being, my friend. You're not the type to devote yourself to nursing an invalid." He leaned close and looked at her. "You've got to think of yourself."
"That's exactly what I have been doing," she said bitterly, "thinking of myself. And, considering the results, I'd better start thinking about someone else for a change." She met his glance defiantly. "Or would that be inconvenient for you?
"This has nothing to do with me, Helen," he answered blandly.
"Obviously you do well elsewhere."
"Oh, you make me sick." She flung herself out of the chair and away from him. What right did he have to criticize her? Yet she knew it was not Fred she despised but herself.
She took a few steps, then paused. Feeling the sting of tears behind her eylids, she buried her face in her hands.
At once he was beside her, his arm going around her shoulder to pull her close.
She leaned for forehead against his chest and closed her eyes.
Somehow, she realized, she always wound up like this, in the wrong person's arms, deriving strength and courage from casual embraces she had no right to know. Yet she needed Fred now to hold her and deep within her she felt the stir of desire....a desire that was slowly driving her out of her mind.
She moved in closer, insinuating herself against him, her fingers trailing up the back of his neck.
Instantly his arms dropped to his sides and he stepped away from her.
She peered up at him curiously.
"You don't know whether you're coming or going, do you? It wasn't three minutes ago that you were ready to devote the rest of your life to an impotent man."
She jumped back as though he had slapped her. She knew she was flushed and shaking. He had spoken gently, yet every words had hit its mark.
"I think you need help, Helen," he said finally, his voice was kind now. "Then help me."
"I'm not sure that I can anymore."
"What am I supposed to do?"
He looked at her steadily for a long moment before he answered. Then he tilted his head slightly to one side. "I think perhaps you'd better consult a psychoanalyst," he said quietly. "I can recommend a very good one."
For an instant she wanted to slap his face. Then she laughed.
"You find it amusing?"
"I find you amusing," she retorted. "Haven't you just been telling me how healthy and normal I am?"
He let his breath go in a long, tired sigh. "All right, Helen. But I hope you'll heed my advice before it's too late. Even you must be-aware that your behavior has become, shall we say, a bit erratic. You can't be happy like this."
Suddenly she knew that she had to get away from him ... instantly. She hated him now as she had never hated anything in he life. Not for himself, not even for the things he had said to her, but for seeing too much of the ugly truth about her that she had not even dared admit to herself.
Very calmly, she faced him, forcing herself to smile a little. "Have you said all you have to say, Dr. Olman?" She did not give him a chance to answer. "If so, I think you'd better leave now. I'm sure Miss Crane will be able to take care of the patient."
"And what about you?"
She smiled again, coldly. "I'm quite capable of taking care of myself, thank you."
He shrugged. "In that case...."
Stopping just long enough to pick up the little black bag, he was gone almost before she realized it. She heard the door slam. Still she stood looking after him dumbly.
A psychoanalyst? He must really think she was already pretty far gone. Oh, she knew that he hadn't meant to imply that she was insane. Everyone went to analysts nowadays. Still, as far as she was concerned, it was a luxury, designed for those who hadn't the courage to face their problems, or their responsibilities.
And she felt far from ready to admit defeat.
Filled now with a new sense of determination, she ran quickly through a mental list of things that had to be done, if she were going to be living with ferry again. First oft. sire would have to make a truce with that ogre, the nurse, for without the woman's cooperation, she would be unable t get even close to ferry, do the intimate things for him that he used to like to have her do.
She had no illusions that it would be easy to get back into his favor. His dismissal had been scathing and complete. Pride would keep him from going back on his words now. Vet she believed that, deep in his heart, hi' still loved and wanted her. And as long as she could go on believing that, she knew she still had a chance.
It would take time, but what they bad once had between them had been perfect and she longed to recapture the essence of their early love.
And having fern's love would solve everything.
Except....
For a moment a sad smile touched the corners of her lips. Iris. What must she do about her?
Whatever else she might do about the woman, she knew that she would have to be sincere. Honest. For Iris' sake, as well as her own.
Then she started toward the bedroom.
Miss Crane's uniformed figure loomed in the study doorway. "You'd best not go in just now." she said. "Doctor wants him to sleep as long as possible." She eyed Helen critically, scarcely bothering an opinion of the bruised features.
"Yes, I know," Helen said, ignoring as best she could the woman's frank look. "Actually, it was you I was looking for." She managed a smile. "I thought perhaps we could discuss my husband's condition."
If she had thought to curry her favor by seeking her confidence, Helen realized that she had m made a grave mistake. Obviously Miss Crane had reached her own conclusions about her interest in Jerry's condition. And just as obviously, the nurse was secretly delighted at Helen's misfortune. Helen had felt that the nurse did not like her. yet now she felt baffled, unable to comprehend any explanation for the woman's hostility.
"What is it you'd like to know?" Miss Crane said blandly. "I heard you speaking with the Doctor. I thought...."
Helen felt her cheeks go hot. just how much had she heard?
"Yes," she said quickly. "I simply meant...." Oh, what the hell did she mean, anyway? Words spun across her mind.
Miss Crane waited patiently for her to continue.
"Well, I thought that, since he needs day and night care now, we might be able to divide up the work. I mean...." She felt her tongue tripping over her own confusion. Rather than blunder foolishly on, she shut her mouth.
"That's perfectly all right, Mrs. Carterman," the nurse said, her tone almost patronizing. "I'm used to difficult cases. I think I'm capable of managing."
"I didn't mean....
"What did you mean?"
Helen could have spit in the ugly face.
Instead, she smiled in return. "I'm sure you can manage," she said calmly. She turned half away from the woman. "I'm sorry to have troubled you."
"No trouble at all."
Helen heard the study door close firmly behind her. She wanted to heave the creature out into the street.
Yet what could she do, even now? Jerry needed the woman's trained care, needed the nurse now more than he did his own wife.
She sighed and turned back toward the living room.
Well, she thought, that flopped. What now?
What indeed, is a wife to do with herself when she has become completely unnecessary?
The liquor cabinet seemed to beckon.
She knew she'd feel better if she took a drink ... just one.
She already had the bottle in her hand when she remembered what had happened the last time she took a drink. What would happen if she took one now?
With jerky motions, she set the bottle back into the cabinet and slammed the door. Slowly she moved her palms down over the curve of her hips.
It had been foolish of her even for a moment to believe that she might come back here and start out fresh. She knew that now.
Whether she liked the situation or not, the fact remained that her sexual needs were strong and a vital part of her being. Even now, just thinking about it, she sensed the heaviness of frustration dragging at her limbs. That part of her was something that would never change, couldn't possible change.
And Jerry....
She felt the sting of tears behind her eyes. She loved him, she really did.
And because she loved him, the best possible thing she could do for him was just to get out of his life. Now, before he woke up. He need never know she had returned at all, and, in time, he would forget her.
The more she thought about it, the more positive she became that her choice was the only sensible one. After all, hadn't Fred himself told her that Jerry might never recover if she stayed with him for a while, then left again?
But where could she go?
She didn't want to be alone ... and remember ... and she certainly had no right to go back to Iris. Unless....
She grabbed at the half-formed thought and clung to it fiercely.
Now that she would be able to prove to Iris that she had left ferry permanently, perhaps Iris would be able to accept her and love her.
Without stopping to consider all the implications of her decision, she hurried to the phone.
Iris was delighted to hear from her and listened attentively as Helen poured out her thoughts in a hasty burst of words. Then, to Helen's surprise, instead of inviting her to come up to the house, Iris asked Helen to meet her downstairs in front of the house in an hour.
Puzzled, she turned from the telephone and nearly collided with the starched front of Miss Crane's uniform.
The nurse nodded stiffly. "Just going to get myself a bite of supper," she said. "You'll be going out again?"
She met the accusing eyes levelly.
"Yes, I'll be going out again," she said. "For good this time, I'm sure you'll be happy to know."
She watched a faint flush spread across the woman's cheeks find, for the first time since she had met her, Helen felt satisfaction.
"If you don't mind," she went on, "you can tell Dr. Olman that I've taken his advice. She smiled. "I'm sure you know what I mean."
The woman's eyes "flared ever so slightly, but she made no attempt to refute the statement.
Instead, she simply nodded again and took a step toward the kitchen.
"Just a minute," Helen said sharply, her voice steady now and commanding.
The nurse paused, but did not turn.
Helen ignored her rudeness. "I'd rather my husband didn't know I've been here," she said, her tone quite serious now. "It might upset him."
This time it was the nurse's turn to smiled She turned to face Helen squarely. "You needn't worry about that," she said. "I had no intention of telling him."
Helen watched the woman go on out to the kitchen.
Then she shrugged, miss Crane was no longer her problem.
Nor, for that matter, was Jerry.
Yet, when she heard the tinkle of the little silver bell, she felt her heart convulse in a sudden terrible spasm.
Miss Crane burst through the doorway almost on the run. As she hurried past Helen, she kept her glance squarely ahead.
Helen listened an heard the door close quietly. Then the low mumble of Jerry's voice.
She could not hear the actual words.
She stood there, stock still until the nurse came out with a heavy tray.
Then she spoke softly. "You....you didn't tell him I'm here?"
"He didn't ask."
At least she thought, that made it a little easier. But it was a mean jolt, nevertheless.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
She was in the living room trying to decide what to do next. She knew that what happened next should settle things for the two of them once and for all.
She hadn't taken her personal belongings with her. It didn't matter. There was nothing in that apartment she wanted, which would not remind her constantly that she had failed, not only as a wile, but as a woman also. She was really fouled up. Other women....what would they have done in her place?
Just what did other women do, she wondered, when faced with a similar situation?
Fred had told her that many men were impotent, for one reason or another. Surely their wives must suffer some of what she had gone through. How did they handle the situation?
Ol course, things would have turned out differently for her had she known her husband's love for more than the few short months of their marriage, or if they had only had a child. No woman could feel complete without children.
She became so engrossed with her thoughts that she did not even notice the car when it drew up.
Iris leaned across the front sat and pushed open the door for her.
The doorman cleared his throat. "Excuse me, ma'am."
Startled by his voice, Helen glanced toward him.
He nodded in the direction of the curb.
Helen thanked him and scurried to the waiting car and the promised safety of Iris' presence, kept her eyes straight ahead, her expression pleasant enough, but completely impersonal.
For a moment Helen watched the lovely face, waiting expectantly for a smile, some slight sign of recognition. Anything, to help quiet the jangling of her nerves. Iris must know how upset she was, must have sensed it in her voice on the phone.
And if Iris loved her at all, as she claimed....
Finally Helen could bear it no longer. "You certainly don't seem very happy to see me. I'm almost sorry I called."
Iris glanced at her briefly, but her expression did not alter. "Why did you?" she asked.
"What?" She stared unbelievingly at the stern profile. "Hut I ... I told you on the phone," she said desperately. "I realized that I couldn't honestly stay with ferry any longer. So...."
"So you decided to give me a turn in this little game you're playing; watching you in action is like watching a tennis match. I can't seem to keep up with the ball."
Helen felt the breath go out of her. She had no idea what might have happened to change Iris' attitude since she had spoken with her on the phone. Yet the woman beside her seemed almost a stranger.
Helen wondered vaguely where Iris might be tailing her.
The car stopped for a light.
She felt Iris watching her and turned to meet her glance. The deep eyes met hers levelly, yet Helen sensed a great unhappiness emanating from their depths. For a long moment they gazed at each other. Then, as the light changed, Iris turned her attention once more to the road.
"Why don't you say something?" Iris said, "thought I think I know what's going on in your head."
Helen smiled to herself, knowing that Iris could not possibly realize what she had been thinking. She hadn't even told Iris of the incident in the park.
Instead she said simply, "You have to admit things are different from last night."
She watched the laugh lines spring into play around her eyes. Almost imperceptibly, she let herself relax against the seat. Maybe things weren't going to be so difficult after all. As long as Iris kept her humor....
Yet when they swung onto the West Side Highway, headed downtown, Helen realized that things were turning out to be far more complicated than she expected. They couldn't possible be going to Iris' home. Yet where could she be taking her?
"Where are we going?" she asked after a few moments, when Iris had offered no explanation.
"For a drive."
"Oh, I thought we'd be going to your place," Helen said, trying to keep the disappointment out of her tone. She needed to be close to her.
Iris did not look at her. "We can't," she said.
"Oh?"
"Ralph's there. He came in today. Unexpectedly."
Helen felt a flutter in her stomach that she recognized as pure panic. I low could everything in her world be so completely mixed up, all at the same time? Still, she could hardly blame Iris for Ralph's behavior.
"I wasn't expecting him for at least a month yet. When you called, I told him I had to go out for a while." She smiled. "He thinks you're my Aunt in Rrooklyn with a sore back."
Helen sighed. "I feel like I have a sore head at the moment," she said tiredly. "What on earth am I going to do?"
"Don't sound so tragic, little one. It can't be all that bad."
Helen tried to smile. "Oh, yes it can," she said. "And worse. I hadn't even bothered to consider what I might do if you couldn't help me."
"Well, we'll find you a hotel room for tonight," Iris said. "Later on, we'll get you an apartment. And eventually you'll be finding yourself a job, if you're really serious this time."
She listened to Iris talk on, describing accurately the life Helen had pictured for herself yesterday when Jerry had ordered her out of his life forever. Hearing it now, she began to appreciate the essential lie of the whole scheme. For in her heart she knew that this was not what she wanted, that it never had been.
And even the fact that Iris spoke of helping her, of spending time with her, did little to relieve the growing fears.
"I'll be able to get away often to be with you," Iris went on. "I've never been much of a homebody, so Ralph is used to not seeing much of me."
Helen glanced idly at the cars moving beside them. Cars containing couples young and old, happy and not so happy, but living normal lives. Somehow there seemed to be no relation between the words pouring from Iris and these simple, uncomplicated people.
And it was toward their simplicity that she yearned now, rather than toward the promise of stolen bliss in the arms of the woman.
Still, she was deeply fond of Iris and grateful to her now for the help she offered. She did not want to hurt or offend hr. Ever.
She remembered Iris' coolness toward her when she had first gotten into the car. "It all sounds wonderful," she said. Then she added cautiously, "Rut are you sure you want to ... I mean, you didn't seem so enthusiastic a little while back."
"Sorry about that," she said. "It had nothing to do with you. I've had a bad day."
"Oh?"
"I always do when Ralph gets home from a trip. ,IIe thinks he's the world's champion stud." She paused for a moment. "Do you know what it's like to be made love to by someone you don't want?"
Helen Hushed hotly. "You should be grateful you have a husband who can," she blurted.
Instantly she felt sorry for the words. She twisted her hands together in her lap.
Iris glanced at her and one eyebrow climbed slowly. "I'll be more than happy to switch any time you say, my dear."
"Vou know I didn't mean that," Helen said dismally. "I know how you feel about men."
Iris laughed. "I'm more interested that you know how I feel about women."
They turned off the highway into a parking area.
Halting the car, Iris turned in the seat to face Helen. Except for a battered convertible some fifty yards away, they were alone.
Helen leaned back and inhaled deeply, savoring the tangy air. "It's beautiful here," she breathed.
"I like it," Iris said.
"Do you drive here often?"
"Yes." Iris was silent for a moment. "Whenever I hav a problem to work out."
Helen felt the sadness in the woman's tone and turned to peer at her through the darkness. But she could not make out the expression on her face.
"Have you got a problem now?"
"Yes. You."
"What makes you so sure?"
Iris didn't answer for a long time. Finally, she inhaled a deep breath and began to speak slowly. "You know, when I left you at the house this morning, I honestly believed that I would never see you again....except socially, perhaps."
Helen did not like the sound of her words. She started to interrupt. "But Iris...."
"Let me finish. I didn't much like the idea at the time," she went on, "but well....I knew I'd live through it. I always do. somehow. Still, I almost hoped you wouldn't come back, Helen, for the simple reason that I know I couldn't possibly hold you. No woman could." Helen remained silent.
How could she deny the truth which was obvious?
"I see you agree with me," Iris said lightly. "Well, that's all right, too, because...." she was silent again for a moment. "Well, since I know I won't be able to hold you, I'm willing to settle for just being with you for as long as I can be....on any terms you want, honey."
There was a certain urgency about her tone that seemed to reach out to Helen, arousing in her sparks of tenderness and warmth. No one had ever felt like this about her before. No one. It was what she had always dreamed of, had hoped she had found with Jerry.
And suddenly she wanted Iris to take her in her arms, to hold her and be tender.
Very carefully, she leaned toward Iris, putting out her hand in the darkness to find the woman's hand and hold it. "Oh, please hold me," she whispered. "Hold me."
Iris moved toward her, her arms going around her and pulled her close. She drew Helen's head against her shoulder and kissed her gently. "Take it easy," she said. "Not here."
But already Helen felt the quivering of desire inside her. She did not want to wait. She wanted Iris to love her now.
She put her hand behind Iris' neck and forced her facedown to meet her now.
For one second Iris held herself back. Then her lips met Helen's hungrily, her tongue darting, probing. Her fingers searched eagerly beneath Helen's coat, found buttons and opened them.
She felt the warm hand against her body, the fingers moving now inside her bra. The nipples hardened at Iris' touch, throbbing with a need of their own.
She forgot that Iris was a women, forgot everything but the desire swelling, seething inside her, demanding release.
She lay back against the seat and pulled at her skirt.
Iris' warm hand slithered along the inside of her thigh, teasing, fondling.
Helen shifted on the seat, needing to feel, to really feel every touch, every sensation.
Iris's fingers tugged at the elastic of her panties. Helen raised her hips to ease the process.
"Oh, baby, I love you so," Iris whispered.
Iris' mouth came down heavily on hers. She met the tongue with her own.
Helen spread her legs wide as Iris touched her there.
Swells of sensation rolled through her. She drew her breath in sharply, sucking hard at Iris' mouth, her tongue surrendering itself completely. They were close and she arched as she met her in the throes of love as they sated each others bodies. They thrashed and quivered in ecstasy. Then contented, they parted.
Iris stirred and sat up. "Are you all right?"
Helen smiled contentedly. "Yes. Just fine."
"And I have a broken arm," Iris laughed. "Next time, let's try a ,bed....if there is a next time."
Helen rearranged her skirt and sat up into the corner of the seat. "You're the hardest person to convince."
"True, but then, I have a theory going about you."
"What's that?"
"The one that says you'd be as happy with a gorilla if you thought he liked you."
Too stunned by this statement to answer, Helen merely stared at the woman.
"That was a pretty rough way to put it," Helen admitted. "All I meant was, that there comes a time when selfishness ceases to be a virtue." She laughed. "Which probably sounds even worse to you, but some day you'll know what I mean."
Helen's face burned and a tight ball of anger seemed to be choking her. Yet what Iris was accusing her of was no different from Fred's accusations, or Jerry's, or even Miss Crane's. Everyone seemed to nave her all figured out, all right. And she hated every one of them.
Why couldn't they understand? Why couldn't they see that she had tried? She really had. In her place, would any of them have behaved otherwise?
"I think we'd better go," she said when she had regained a little control of herself. "It's late. I still have to find a place to stay."
"I dig you and I suppose you're entitled to hate me, if that's what you want. But, Helen...."
"What is it?"
"I do love you, you know. Or I wouldn't bother at all." She moved her hand to the wheel. "Some day you'll realize what I'm trying to say to you."
They rearranged their clothes and looked for the visible evidence of their sex loving and left there.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Both of them were very quiet on the way back Each tried not to bring up the point Iris had suggested.
But Helen still felt unhappy.
Iris must herself be an expert on selfishness Her lousy treatment of her husband showed certainly her irresponsibility. How could she accuse anyone else of being selfish and self centered. She thought that the other people involved with her weren't any improvement on Iris. Jerry even thought it was understandable that he was interested in himself since his accident. Yet, she felt that if her husband had only been able to see her point of view, their marriage might have continued. His injuries, his sexual helplessness had loomed in his thoughts as being only a huge injustice to himself. He had never even considered her needs.
And Fred? What could possible be more selfish than his approach to the situation? Taking advantage of Jerry's indisposition to force his attentions on the needing wife, and he had dared to claim he loved her, as Iris had claimed.
And soon she would have to ask Iris to drop her somewhere.
But where? Midtown, into the noise and the lights and the confusion? She could find a hotel room there easily enough. And once she had a room....
"What then?
Suddenly she knew that she could not bear to be alone tonight. There were too many things she did not want to think about ... too many memories that would come flooding back in the lonely hours.
Yet she had no friends, now that this rift had come between herself and Iris. There was no one except her mother. Only for an intent did she consider going home to her. She was not yet ready to make the explanations her parents would demand.
"Where shall I drop you?" Iris asked.
The voice was pleasant enough, almost too much so, Helen thought, after what they had just been through.
Yet, what should she expect from Iris. From anyone? She had let herself get involved and whatever happened from now on would be up to her to determine.
"Drop me at Forty Second.' She kept her voice impersonal. "I'll manage all right from there."
Iris glanced at her curiously, but refrained from comment. She turned off the Highway and drove cross town.
After awhile she asked, "Do you have enough money?"
"Yes, though I probably won't need any."
"Oh?"
Helen heard the concern in Iris' tone and looked at her quickly, not quite sure how best to respond. Ever since she had met Iris, she had been puzzled by the woman's behavior. Joking one moment, bitter and sarcastic the next. There seemed to be no consistency about her moods. For one instant she sensed something of the deep well of unhappiness behind the serene, lovely features.
And in that instant she understood, too, that Iris did indeed love her.
"I only meant," Helen said softly, all the hurt and disappointment gone now from her voice, "That I expect to be staying with ... with a friend. At least until I find an apartment. Hut tonight...."
"I understand how it is," Iris said. "You've probably stirred up a lot of things in your mind that you're not ready to cope with."
Helen nodded. "And I want you to know...." She began, her voice mellow with affection.
"Please don't say it, Helen. You don't have to."
"Rut I mean it."
Iris looked at her levelly for an instant. "I believe you do," she said.
At the corner of Forty Second, Iris pulled to the curb. "Will this do it?"
"Just fine," she said.
Iris leaned across her to open the door. "I guess this is goodbye."
"No," Helen said sincerely. "Just so long for a while." Impulsively she leaned torwaru and kissed Iris quickly on the lips. "I'll call you."
She got out and stood watching as the car started. She saw .Iris glance through the rear view mirror, then wiggle her hand in farewell.
As soon as the car had disappeared from sight, Helen turned and searched down the street for an empty cab.
She flagged one and gave the driver Fred's address.
As the taxi moved out, she relaxed against the seat and closed her eyes. A faint smile played about her lips.
She knew that she could expect neither loyalty nor affection from Fred Olman. He had already shown her the kind of man he really was. A real bastard, out to take everything he wanted and prepared to give exactly nothing in return.
And if that was the way he liked to play then she would show him that she was a worthy pupil.
Yet, even as she outlined in her mind the plan of attack she intended to use, she sensed that she was not pleased by the whole idea. Something inside her warned her to be careful.
She drew a small compact out of her purse and quickly refurbished her make-up, smearing an extra thick coat of lipstick around her mouth and dabbing with a downy puff at the dark circles beneath her eyes. If she were going to play the role of a prostitute, she might as well start looking like one.
Helen had never before been in Fred's new apartment. Yet she knew instinctively what to expect. Deep leather chairs, a rack of pipes, the odor of tabacco mingling with the ever-present antiseptic air he carried.
As she rang the bell and waited for the answering buzzer, she tried to calculate just how well his practice must be doing to warrant a six room bachelor apartment in such an exclusive building. What ever his failings as a man, as a doctor he had obviously proved himself competent.
She pushed open the door and crossed to the waiting elevator.
He was waiting in the doorway of his apartment, one hand still holding an open book. She saw one eyebrow crook ever so slightly as he saw her face.
She tried to smile plesantly at him, yet she knew by his expression that the attempt had not passed.
He stepped aside to let her pass, then followed her into the large, cozy room.
Without waiting for an invitation, she dropped gratefully onto the sofa.
For now that she was here, face to face with Kim, she was not at all sure of her motives in coming here. What had she intended to say to him? All the words she had ever known seemed to be spinning across her brain, refusing to settle into a single, simple statement.
She raised her hands helplessly. "You were right after all," she said. couldn't face up to it, Fred. And...."
"And here you are," he finished. He seemed to have understood everything from the few words she said. "Would you like a drink?"
She hesitated, remembering the bout she had gone through earlier about taking a drink. But in view of her intentions, any modesty now would ring pretty false.
He brought them each a stiff drink and sat down beside her on the sofa. "I'm glad you listened to me this morning," he said, shaking his glass and studying it. "I realize that you've been under a terrible strain. But I believe we'll be able to get everything straightened out very soon."
He was being Dr. Olman now, crisply professional, soothing the troubled patient with the magic balm of his bedside manner. She did not understand why he chose to treat her like that.
Surely he must know why she had come.
"Fred, why are you speaking to me as though I were an adolescent?" she said with annoyance. "I didn't come here for advice ... or pills."
Fines of surprise etched around his eyes. "Oh?"
For long moments she stared into the glass clutched tightly in her hand. Then impulsively she tilted the glass to her lips and drained it. The liquid burned in her mouth, her throat.
She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, she wanted to walk out. What was he trying to do o her?
Why must he make her crawl? "You know why I'm here," she whispered finally.
"No," he said, "I don't."
She felt waves of heat flooding upward toward her head, blurring her vision, dulling her thoughts. It was only the alcohol, she told herself. She had forgotten to eat again, forgotten everything but her confusion, her fears.
She steadied herself against the arm of the sofa. "I came here to be with you," she said, her voice barely audible.
She wanted him to take her in his arms, to love her, to crush her with his passion. Why didn't he understand that and help her instead of sitting there with that simpering blank look on his face?
Couldn't he see her need?
"I want to be with you," she almost veiled.
"Helen, I want to help you in any way I can," he said quietly. "You know that."
"Then make love to me."
She flung herself toward him.
He caught her and drew her close.
Her fingers tore at his clothing, tugging his shirt loose and searching beneath for the warmth of flesh.
Very gently, he disentangled himself and pushed her away from him. He held both of the wrists in one strong hand.
"You've got to get hold of yourself," he said crisply, his tone all business now.
She threw herself forward once again, wanting him, hating him, hating herself.
"You want me. You know you do."
He raised his free hand and struck her a stinging blow across the face. for a moment she merely stared at him, shocked and unable to comprehend. Then she began to cry, sobbing in great, heaving gasps.
Finally the sobbing subsided, leaving her exhausted and drained.
She leaned against him limply.
"Tell me what's happened to you," he said, his tone concerned. "Everything."
She didn't want him to know what she had been through. None of it. Yet she sensed that he wanted sincerely to help her.
Haltingly, she told him all that had happened since the day of Jerry's accident. The nervous days and endless nights. The growing tension as the demands of her body became increasingly insistent. The incident with the man in the park and the brief affair with Iris.
He listened attentively, not once interrupting the flood of words.
When she had finished, he took a pipe out of his jacket pocket, carefully filled and packed it. He puffed reflectively for several moments.
"'Well, say something," she demanded finally. "Don't just sit there and look at me."
"There isn't really too much I can say. As I've told you before, I feel that you require professional help of a kind I'm not qualified to give you. When you showed up tonight, I believed you had come to the same conclusion."
"No," she said. "I want to work this thing out by myself."
"Helen, I want you to listen to me very carefully. I am not suggesting that there is anything seriously the matter with you. I simply feel that this whole situation has gotten somewhat out of hand. You've gotten so wrapped up in your own guilt and fear that you no longer realize there might be another approach."
"You told me once," she said quietly, "that morality is nothing but a farce. I don't believe that. I don't think women ever do, really They have too much to lose."
"I'm sorry for what happened between us," he said. "I did what I did then as ... well, as an expedient, to help you out. I didn't believe then, as I told you, that you were really in love with Jerry. I do now. You wouldn't be in this condition if you weren't."
She looked back at him now, meeting his gaze levelly for the first time. "Yes, I am," she said sincerely. "I don't suppose I knew it either. I ... I believed that ... Oh, I don't know what I believed."
"I think I do. Somewhere you seem to have gotten the peculiar notion that sex is equivalent to love. Jerry, because of the accident, was no longer capable of going to bed with you. I'd almost forgotten jerry's part in this," he went on after a moment. "like most animals, Jerry believed when he lost his potency that he had automatically lost all attraction he might have for any woman."
"That's ridiculous. I didn't stop loving him...."
"Of course not. But he was afraid you would. So afraid that he became defensive, suspicious. He accused you of being unfaithful before the possibility entered your mind and you, feeling rejected, believing he no longer desired you, decided that he had fallen out of love."
"It's all true," she admitted. The whole pattern had begun to clarify for her. Realistically, she accepted the fact that ferry would have to work out his own problems for himself. But maybe....
"Fred, is there any nope that Jerry will recover his manhood:' I mean...." She stopped helplessly and peered at him closely.
He smiled. "I know what you mean," he said. "Of course there's hope. A man wouldn't last a month in my profession if he didn't believe there is always hope. All he needs is the will to recover, an incentive to go on trying. You can give him that."
She sat quiet for along time, considering Fred's words. Iris had tried to tell her what it meant to love deeply. Iris, for all her warped desires, understood more of the meaning of the word than she, herself ever had.
For to love meant, really, to give ... uncritically, unstintingly, asking nothing in return for oneself.
"I've been such a damned fool," she said. "Such a fool. How do I say I'm sorry?"
"Once you start functioning like a sensible human being, you won't have to be sorry for what you do." He continued on. "This may come as a shock to you, Helen, but I've never found anything wrong with you exactly as you are."
His unexpected tenderness surprised her. Questioningly she peered into his face, searching for the full meaning behind his words.
"You know," he said casually, "when I was in Medical school, I used to lie awake nights making plans for the future. I dreamed I would have the biggest practice in town, the finest apartment, the longest car and the most beautiful wife. He paused but did not turn to look at her. "You were going to be the wife."
She said quietly. "I didn't know. You never...."
"I never got around to asking you?" He turned to face her. "That's right, I didn't, because I hadn't quite made all the rest." He grinned. "My error was that I forgot to take into account that you could possibly fall in love with someone else."
She rose and stood in front of him. "Fred," she whispered, "I never knew. I'm so sorry."
He put his big hands on her shoulders but did not pull her to him. He looked deep into her eyes, his own bright, unhappy. "You have no reason to be," he said, "and I don't want you to be. All I want is to know that you're happy, even if it's with another man."
She fell into his arms then, pressing hard against him, feeling his warmth and his male hardness against her. Yet now there was no hot welling of passion. No overwhelming desire to press her body against him and demand that he enter her, sexually.
There was comfort and affection and a knowledge of another kind of love, the kind she was becoming aware of, the warmth of need and contentment.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
She stayed on at Fred's apartment....in separate rooms. She slept in his bedroom and he used the sofa to sleep on.
Most of her anxieties and reasons for unhappiness had already been brought out into the light of day. Yet the greatest fear of all she had had to keep bottled up inside. It wasn't the sex that bugged her that much lately.
It was Jerry her husband who caused her the most concern.
She realized well enough that the mere fact that she loved him and wanted him did not assure her that he would want her back. She had already figured that she would have confess to him, all her actions. Maybe it would mean losing him forever, but she felt she must do that.
Again and again she repeated to herself that she must be prepared to lose him. Yet she knew in her heart that she couldn't accept that.
Fred had convinced her finally that at least a chat with his psychoanalyst friend Dr. Ken Martinis could do her no harm.
Fred assured her, too, that the sooner she adjusted to Terry's disability, the sooner Jerry, himself would be on the road to recovery. Marriage was meant to be a partnership. And it was about time she and Jerry began to face up to this responsibility.
The deep rool of a snore cut into her thoughts. She smiled.
Poor Fred. He deserved his sleep. He deserved all the good things of life he could get.
And Iris, too, Helen reflected. Probably lying sleepless in her bed, despising the virile husband beside her, longing for and perhaps worrying about the woman she loved.
Helen realized that people like Iris had a far greater sexual problem than she herself could even imagine. She wondered if Iris had ever sought professional advice about that problem. Perhaps, the next time she saw her, she might offer the suggestion. It was about time she began helping the people who loved her.
In the closet she found an old robe of Fred's and pulled it over her slip.
She went to the kitchen and busied herself making coffee and setting out cups. She wondered idly if he would ever find himself another girl, someone who could appreciate him and give him the love she had denied him.
As she turned, she heard a step behind her.
She turned.
He sniffed appreciatedely. " That coffee smells good," he said. "I'm usually too lazy to make anything but instant myself."
She smiled. "How do you like your eggs?"
"Scrambled."
He sat down and thoughtfully ran his fingers through his dark, rumpled hair. "I had a couple of ideas last night that sounded pretty good in the dark," he said. "They might be of some use to you."
"What kind of ideas?"
"Well, first of all, I can't very well send Jerry off to see Dr. Martinis," he said. "But I feel confident that a simple man-to-man talk might straighten him out on a couple of things."
"I hope you're right, but I don't think he's too fond of you lately."
"I don't blame him. Anybody who stabs you in the behind with a hypo a few times can become pretty obnoxious," he said. "Anyhow, I'll give it a try. This morning, while you're seeing Ken Martinis. The least I can do is give him a few tips on how to keep you happy. Physically, that is."
The spoon slipped from her fingers. The vision of the last time Jerry had tried to satisfy her spun across her brain. She did not want to go through that with him again. Ever.
"What is it, Helen?"
"Nothing," she bed. "It's....it's nothing. I just didn't get any sleep."
He got up to stand beside her. "Now, let's try that again," he said. He held her arm. "What the matter, Helen?"
She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. "It's no use that way, Fred ... for either of us. We've tried it."
He was quiet for a moment. Then he looked at her with a strange expression in his eyes. "This may sound a little foolish, but maybe not.
When you went to bed with this woman ... what's her name?"
"Iris."
"When you went to bed with Iris, were you satisfied?"
She felt herself flushing hotly and pressed her hand to her cheeks. "Yes," she said softly. "Completely."
"I'm sure she didn't do anything that your husband isn't capable of doing," he said, a faint smile around his eyes. "Why were you satisfied with Iris?"
She turned away, unable to face the intensity of his gaze. "Because we....we both wanted to."
She could almost see his nod of satisfaction, even with her back turned toward him.
And maybe he was right. "Do you really think....."
He smiled. " Don't you?"
She felt a great blossom of hope opening inside her. For the first time, she began to believe that, if Jerry would only have her, they might yet achieve full happiness in their love. Surely, she would find satisfaction, and in time, as he moved steadily toward complete recovery....
She could barely contain her excitement as Fred lingered over breakfast , bathing her in a steady flow of reassuring, cheerful words. Yet almost before she realized it, she was rushing to dress for her appointment with Dr. Martinis.
Fred let her out in front of a new apartment building. "I'll call you later on in the day," he said, "to see how everything's worked out."
For one moment she felt the old rush of insecurity flooding in on her. "You'd better let me call you," she said. "I'm not sure where I'll be."
"I am. Jerry's got better sense than to let you go-"
She watched him drive off, then turned and went inside.
The waiting room of Dr. Martinis' office was expensively furnished. She sat down to wait.
Promptly at nine, at tall man in tweeds opened the door of the nner office. All of him looked rumpled and rather carelessly thrown together. Yet there was something infinitely comfortable about his shagginess, like the well-worn books of a favorite library.
"Mrs. Carterman?"
She nodded nervously.
"Please come in." fie indicated the chair in front of his desk and waited for her to sit down.
"Don't we use a couch?" she asked.
He grinned. "Not till I get to know you better."
"Dr. Olman's told me a little something about your situation," he began, settling on the corner of the desk. "But I'd like to know other things about you before we get around to that. Let's start at the beginning." He picked up a small yellow pad and a pencil. "Where were you born?"
"Right here in town," she said. "But I can't see what that has to do with my ... my problem."
He made a notation on the pad. "Neither can I, right at the moment. But everything you are and fee and think is the direct result of all that has happened to you up to this point in your life."
As he continued to ask routine questions about her background, she found herself recalling bits and pieces of her life that must surely explain her intense insecurity and demand for emotional, and sexual attention.
By the end of the session, she knew that she would return many times again.
Needing a little time to think over the experience she had just had, she would walk back home and go over the experience as she walked. Thinking of her husband she felt a joy inside her. If he loved her, he would be waiting eagerly. He would help her to regain her place and she also would help him. As a loving couple, they would overwhelm this thing that kept them apart. Together they could do it and anything else that they had to do.
This time, their house of love would have a firm base to build their marriage upon.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
When she got to her apartment, she quietly came inside and softly went down the hall toward their bedroom where Jerry lay.
She knew that if she was to make it with Jerry she knew she would have to do it around the sharp eyes of the nurse.
The bedroom door was shut. Soundlessly she turned the knob and opened the door.
Jerry lay quietly on the bed, unmoving and still. His head was turned toward the window away from her, yet she knew he wasn't sleeping. "Jerry," she called out softly. He lay still as if she didn't call to him. She called again.
Slowly he raised the arm away from his lace and turned to look at her. "I can hear," he said.
She breathed a quiet sigh of relief. At least he was going tospeak to her this time.
"I've come home...." she murmured.
"What makes you think it's still a home?" he said nastily. "I didn't hear anybody say it."
"Oh, please," she said, the impatience trying to creep into her tone. "let's not fight now. I know you've been through a lot, daring." She paused, then lowered her glance. "But so have I."
"So I gather."
She looked at him quickly. "Fred's been here?"
"Yeah. He's been here. Had a lot to say for himself, too, but I guess you know all about that."
She drew the chair up close beside the bed. "Not really. He simply told me that he wanted to have a talk with you."
"That's a laugh."
"Jerry...."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I gotta remember I'm still a man even if my wife does have to sleep all over town." He looked at her somewhat desperately now. "How the hell would any guy feel in my place?"
She reached out to touch his hand. He withdrew it quickly and turned away. faking a deep breath, she shut her eyes and begged for strength. "The nurse must be asleep. This is the first time I've been able to sneak past her."
"She's gone."
"Gone?"
"Yeah. I told Fred to take the old bag with 'im. She's been driving me nuts hovering around."
She felt some of the tension easing from her limbs. "In that case, I guess you'll be needing me," she said cheerfully.
"Guess again. He's gonna send another one ... this afternoon."
"All right, dear, you've made your point."
She watched a touch of pink suffuse his pale features. 'But before I go," she went on, "there are some things I have to tell you about myself."
"I don't want to hear them."
"You're going to, whether you want to or not," she said flatly. She sat up in the chair, needing all the feeling of authority she could command.
She sensed that he was warily attentive, every fiber of his being straining toward her now, waiting, worried and a little afraid.
"First of all," she began, "despite the fact that I've been acting like a lunatic, I want you to know that I do love you ... with all my heart. I've done some things I'm not proud of. At the time I honestly felt that I had no choice. But now ... well, I realize that I'm going to do everything I can to get myself straightened out."
"Yeah," he muttered. "I know about that. Damn it, Helen, do you think any man likes to know he's driving his wife nuts? I mean, you going to an analyst sure paints a pretty picture of me."
She sensed the deep hurt and humiliation underlying his words and she longed to put her arms around him and soothe him. But that would have to wait.
"What's wrong with me has nothing to do with you, jerry, or very little, anyhow. Most of it started way back when T was young. You know I've always been terrified of my mother. I still am, somewhat."
Something close to a smile passed across his pale lips. "Who isn't?" he said. "She's enough to ruin anybody."
She did not try defending the family honor. "Anyhow," she went on, "there's no reason for you to feel guilty about my emotional problems. And, since I do love you, my seeking help is certainly no threat. If anything, it could mean a tremendous improvement in our marriage."
He muttered. "There's nothing to improve. No man in his right mind puts up with a wife's being unfaithful."
"Fred told you that, too?"
"Yeah, the whole, damned, dirty picture. You sure have been having a ball for yourself while all the time I'm lying here worrying myself crazy about you."
She had told Fred last evening that she intended to make a clean breast of everything with ferry. Still, it surprised her that he had taken the responsibility upon himself. If only he had warned her, had prepared her in some way for this unexpected turn.
"He tried to tell me it was all his fault," Jerry went on heavily. "And I always knew he wanted your body. But, by golly, no woman really gets it unless she asks for it."
Silently, Helen sent out her thanks to Fred for his gallant move to protect her. And Iris. And probably his decision had been a wise one. It would be difficult enough for Jerry to accept that she had been to bed with another man, but certainly impossible to accept that she had made love to a woman, the wife of his closest friend.
She bit back the urge to tell him. Some day, in the future, when he was stronger, maybe.
And suddenly she realized that her future did indeed lie right here with Jerry. He hadn't said or done anything yet to let her know it would be all right. Still, she knew that he was fighting her only because he felt he had to. It was a contest of wills.
And she knew she must help him prove for himself the total security of his position.
She stood up beside the bed. "I guess that's everything," she said. "I suppose I'd better pack and leave."
"Yeah," he said. "I suppose you'd better."
"Yes," she echoed.
From the closet she dragged down a large, blue valise and spread it open on the floor. Without bothering to glance at him directly, she moved quickly about the room, gathering up her clothing and cosmetics and put them in the valise.
Occasionally she glimpsed his reflection in the mirror. He had hunched himself up in bed, his eyes following her every move, lines of concern cutting deep into his face.
She smiled to herself and went on about the business of getting ready to leave.
She tucked in the last item, finally and dropped the lid of the valise. She felt him watching her now as she bent to snap the lock.
She stood up and began struggling with the heavy valise toward the door.
"Put that stinking thing down before you hurt yourself."
Obediently she set the bag down just inside the door. She waited.
"Look, come here, will you? How the hell can I yell at you if you're way over there?"
She had never heard his voice so gentle. She felt a vast tenderness suffuse her and her heart began to pound.
He patted the bed beside him. "Right here." She sat down close, but not touching him. "What do you want to yell at me about?"
He shook his head. "Nothing," he said. "Never again." He took her hand and held it tight in his enormous paw. "That is, if you're willing to give it another try."
"Oh, darling, if you could only know how much I want to."
"Well, you'll get plenty of chance to show me," he said. "I promise."
She felt one eyebrow quiver into an arc. "Oh?"
"Yeah, oh," he said. He pulled her toward him and held her hard against him. "And if you don't believe it...."
His arms enfolded and held her close. She knew that she believed him, that she never would doubt him. Her lips met his eagerly, anxiously.
As they lay close in each others arms each trying to show the other they really cared more for the other than for themselves, they, without being aware of it, were finally back on the right road for their new start.
Then, with a smile, she remembered what Fred had said to her about how she and Iris had satisfied each other's sexual desires. She turned back his covers and told him to lie still as she undressed.
"What are you doing honey?" he asked her. "You'll see," she answered smiling happily and naked, body a glow with love and desire for him, she showed him what a large part of their future would be like. A good party of that future.
