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From: godot@pacbell.net (Godot)
Subject: Story: The Straying Wife (12/26)
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This morning there had been no mail. She was leaving the post office,
head down, ignoring the beautiful morning, hands in her pockets, when
out on the street a voice called. "Kim?"

She stopped and turned, seeing an attractive girl on the post office
steps, laughing up at her. Kim smiled in welcome, "Nichole!"

"Kim! It is you! Kim!"

"I didn't recognize you, Nichole."

They embraced; or, rather, Nichole took the red-haired wife in her
arms and kissed her, her lips pecking at Kim's mouth. It was an
awkward moment. Kim liked affection, and she had liked Nichole, but
she wasn't used to such a demonstrative greeting. Also, Nichole had
changed in some subtle way. It wasn't just that she was very
well-dressed, very expensively and tastefully dressed. And it wasn't
the fact that her teeth had been fixed into a dazzling smile. She was
obviously doing well, but it wasn't just that. Kim stared at Nichole
and saw something: hints of debauchery, a certain look in the eyes, a
way of smiling, the first traces of hard lines on the face, an
attitude that was a mixture of barely concealed brazenness, and an
expression on her face that alluded to masochistic acceptance and
sensuality.

Again, for no reason she could put her finger on, Kim was filled with
a feeling of dread and bad times yet to come.

Nichole seemed delighted to see her again and the two of them stood
chatting happily while people moved around them on the sidewalk.
Nichole squealed with delight when she saw the wedding ring and wanted
to know all about the marriage. She insisted they have coffee together
and have a good talk. Kim was only too happy to talk, since she had
nothing but the rest of the morning ahead of her. It was good to have
another human being to talk to and she hadn't seen Nichole in a long
time. They had worked together for a brief time about a year ago in a
restaurant called The Butcher Shop, and Nichole had been the cocktail
waitress with the racy reputation.

There were all sorts of rumors about Nichole and what she did when she
wasn't working. Kim had seen her behaving in ways that gave
credibility to the rumors and certainly wasn't any way a proper lady
would behave. Yet, despite everything, she found herself liking
Nichole and defending her to the other waitresses. Nichole seemed a
warm, silly, sad human being to Kim. She sometimes felt the other girl
acted the way she did because she had to have attention. This was
strange, for she had a good personality and certainly was beautiful
enough to stand out in any crowd. Nichole had simply not bothered to
show up for the job one night, and Kim never saw her again... although
she heard rumors that she was being "kept" by some millionaire in
Pebble Beach.

Now, over coffee, she smiled at the sensual looking dark-haired girl
and asked, "And what are you doing now, Nichole?"

"I'm in public relations up in the city."

"San Francisco?"

"Yes, and I just love it. I'm down here on business and pleasure. You
know, any excuse to get back down here." She pointed to the red-head's
wedding band. "What does he do?"

Kim laughed, knowing what Nichole was referring to. "He's an engineer,
and he just left on a job."

"Where?"

"South America," Kim said, thrusting her lower lip out in
mock-despair. "Brazil. Way up the Amazon in some godforsaken place,"

"How long will he be gone?"

"Six months."

"Oh, poor Kim. What are you going to do?"

"Stick it out, keep myself busy."

If the conversation was to be thought of from Kim's standpoint, it
must be recorded that she thought that Nichole was terribly perceptive
or that she was wearing her heart on her sleeve. In what seemed like
no time at all, she found herself talking about Hank and their
"problem." Nichole seemed to be so understanding. Soon, they were
paying for their coffees and walking, talking quietly, feeling they
were more private than in a crowded coffee shop. They walked to
Devendorf Plaza, where they sat on a bench, and Kim found herself
pouring her heart out.

Not all her heart and not all the truth. How many of us are capable of
telling the whole truth? She did tell Nichole a great deal of what
happened, and Nichole seemed eager to hear every word, licking her
lips so that they were wet, glistening and her eyes seemed to be just
a little unfocused.

"Wow," she said, when Kim was all through. "I wish I had been there
when you hit him with the flashlight."

Kim was a little taken back by her statement then dismissed it as
being simply Nichole, as her way. She had always been flip and
fancy-free, and sometimes said things just to shock.

They talked on, or rather Kim talked on with Nichole only prompting
her, urging her to talk more. Finally, the young housewife stopped,
embarrassed, as tears blinded her and she groped for words. Nichole
pressed a handkerchief in her hand and walked her back to her car. It
was agreed that Nichole would call her, and they'd get together before
she want back up to the city.

The wildly sensual brunette stood waving as Kim drove off. Once out of
sight, she walked purposely to a car, a Mercedes that was parked
nearby and got in next to a gray-haired man dressed all in gray. She
grinned at him and resisted an urge to throw her arms around his neck
and give him a fervent kiss. You just didn't do things like that to
Web Hardman. "Well?" he asked, arching his eyebrows.

"You're a genius!"

"It went as I said it would?"

"Almost word for word. Web, I think you're right about her. About sex,
I mean."

"We'll see. Did you remember to start the tape recorder?"

Nichole grinned triumphantly, leaning close to him so that he could
smell her perfume and see the deep cleavage between her large, firmly
ripe breasts. Nothing would please her more than to have Web himself
work her over. "Here it is," she said, opening her expensive leather
purse and pulling out a small finely made portable tape recorder.
"What do I do next?"

"That will be determined by what I find on this tape."


Chapter 5


How had it all happened? They had met for a drink. They had met for a
drink in the Pine inn. They had met at the "Happy Hour" in the red and
white Pine inn bar that spoke of elegance, of quiet, casual wealth and
good taste. They had met with the Pine Inn regulars who met every day
at five and drank quietly and well.

And she had too much to drink! She had driven home tipsy, driving
slowly, and felt immediately sleepy going to bed and wondering vaguely
and only half-seriously, if anything had been put in her drink. She
had become "high" so quickly and babbled things she ordinarily
wouldn't have. Before she knew it, she was agreeing to a long weekend
with Nichole up in the city. "What you need is a change. You're in a
rut and you don't know it. I've got a wonderful apartment on Sutter
Street. What you need is a weekend with me. Well go places and meet
people and have a good old dirty time."

Kim had fallen into bed, drowsy, sleepily amused that Nichole had
decided to take over in her life, vaguely pleased that somebody cared
enough to say so and take an interest in her welfare.

Waking the next morning and realizing that, in an hour, Nichole would
be around to pick her up and that she was going to spend a weekend in
lovely San Francisco, she shrugged. Why not? Perhaps the other girl
was right. Maybe she did need a change! Kim dressed and packed
quickly. "Travel light," Nichole had said, "that's my motto: Travel
light and wear sexy underwear."

She looked forward to the weekend despite Nichole's old habit of being
just a bit too rough and sexual in her talk. Somehow, the brunette
always brought the conversation around to men and sex. She really
didn't mind, dismissing it as Nichole's way and need for attention.
She didn't really think anything was meant by it.

Nichole was right on time, arriving in a new Mustang convertible. They
drove up U.S. 1, Kim taking in the coastal scenery as they drove.
Then, like a jewel, a thrill no matter how many times you've seen it,
came the Apple, The Big Apple, San Francisco! The city, a combination
of stately old homes and gracious living; the city, a curious blend of
European comfort and old frontier make-do. The city of the Barbery
Coast and China Town, North Beach and the Mission district, Nob Hill
and Haight-Ashbury, The Panhandle and the financial district.

It retains some of its bawdy, lusty, goldrush past. It is the original
home of the topless and bottomless, of the porny movies and live sex
shows. It is a sin-drenched city and it is a graceful entity to good
living - the De Young Museum, The Palace of The Legion of Honor, and
the opera. It has its ballet and art exhibits. It is the home of the
1950's Beats - Beatniks and the poetry movement of North Beach. It is
a melting pot for east and west, and has always been drug-oriented
because of Chinatown and the opium trade and wars that flourished as
far back as the nineties.



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