I can remember the first time I set eyes on Brett Carlisle. She must have been about sixteen or seventeen at the time but the way she filled out that skimpy red bikini you never would have guessed it. When my pal Bill told me that he had to drag his kid sister to the beach with us, I groaned, picturing a scrawny, buck-teethed kid with a flat chest. I was all of twenty myself and just beginning to know my way around a woman. The thought of some creepy little girl cramping my style with the local bathing beauties was enough to put me in a foul mood before I even met her.
Bill and I made up to meet at the beach about ten am. We decided to try a new section today to avoid the crowd for one thing and to discover new woman-flesh for another. I was getting pretty tired of Linda, my steady girl friend, and was too much of a coward to tell her. So the next best thing was to avoid going to places where I knew she'd be. Linda had a mighty wild temper and I wasn't in the mood for any scenes on this stifling July day. All I wanted to do was lie in the sun on the white sand and let visions of my imaginary dream girl dance pleasantly around in my head while my tan deepened. Emotion of any sort makes me cringe, so having this dream girl I can conjure her up whenever I feel like it without straining my psyche. Of course, if I got the yen for a real flesh and blood woman, there was always Linda.
Anyhow, I waited around for Bill and his kid sister for about twenty minutes, my temper growing hotter as the sun baked down on my head. Finally, I turned in disgust and strode to the bath house where I changed into a pair of bathing briefs that showed off my muscular body to perfection. I checked my appearance in a small, dirty mirror that was hanging on the wall and admired my brooding expression, my hazel eyes, my rugged nose, my perfect teeth. I threw back my husky shoulder and drew myself up to my full five feet, eleven inches. That extra inch had always irked me, but you can't have everything I guess. Besides, I thought of myself as a six-footer inside where it really counts, so what's a crummy inch here and there? I ran a comb lovingly through my thick black hair, bared my teeth like a tiger and sauntered back to the blanket.
I stopped short when I was about six feet from the spot. Bill had just come and was in the process of placing his blanket alongside mine. He was assisted by a curvy dungaree-clad blonde who, from where I was standing, looked like quite a dish. I shook my head in disbelief, thinking that maybe I had stayed in the sun too long. That bosomy babe couldn't be Bill's kid sister-anyone with a body like that couldn't be a kid! Then I laughed at my own stupidity-of course that wasn't his sister. He must have talked his parents out of making him drag her along and had pickea up this little doll on the way to the beach.
I thrust out my chest as far as it would go and made up my mind that before the day ended, this little chickadee would be mine. Then I continued over to them, with what I thought was a casual swagger.
Bill looked up and spotted me, an apologetic grin on his thin, pale face. "Gee, I'm sorry man. I wouldn't have been so late if I didn't have to drag her along. Takes her three hours just to comb her hair."
I think I must have blinked in astonishment at that point because Bill looked at me oddly and said, "Is something the matter, Glenn? You look sort of funny."
I tried to grin and tore my eyes away from the little blonde who was standing with her hands on her hips and staring at me with an arrogant expression on her pretty face. "You don't mean to say," I blurted "that this is your baby sister!"
Bill looked miserable. "Yeah," he mumbled. "But don't worry-I've already warned her not to bug us. I'm awfully sorry, Glean, but you know my folks..."
"Oh, that's all right," I declared magnanimously, letting my eyes sweep over the girl's luscious-looking body, from her tight red and white polo shirt whose thinness permitted me to note the curvaceous outline of firm young breasts to her tight blue jeans that clung to her hips and thighs like a second skin. I wet my lips unconsciously as my eyes lingered on her bulging breasts and when I lifted my eyes to hers, I flushed to see that she was watching me with amusement. I mopped my brow and muttered, "Man, I'm boiling it's so hot!"
Then Brett uttered the first sound I ever heard from her-she giggled knowingly at my remark. Her giggles increased as she realized the embarrassment she was causing me. I tried to ignore her and flung myself down on my blanket rolling over onto my stomach so that I could keep my flushed face out of sight.
"Will you stop acting like a giggling kid, for heaven's sake," Bill chided her in annoyance. "Glenn certainly doesn't want to be bothered by you."
"Oh, doesn't he?" I heard her murmur just loud enough for me to hear.
I looked up quickly and saw her standing beside my blanket, looking down at me and flicking her small pink tongue over her lips. I felt an uncontrollable chill pass through my body despite the ninety degree temperature and quickly put my head down and turned away from her.
I heard her chuckle softly and then say, "Well, see you boys in a few minutes. I'm going to change into my swimsuit now."
I felt my body relax as I heard her bare feet pattering past my head and hoped silently that she would get lost on her way back from the bath house. I released the lump of sand that I had been squeezing tightly in my fist and let it trickle slowly through my fingers.
"Damn that rotten kid," Bill cursed. "I'll beat the heck out of her when I get her home."
"She's only a kid," I said to him, nearly choking on the words. "Don't be too rough on her."
Bill smiled at me gratefully. "Yeah, I suppose you're right. Well, I'm going to put my trunks on-I'll be back in a couple of minutes. Keep an eye on Brett if she gets back before I do, all right?"
"Oh, sure," I agreed. "I'll keep an eye on her." I closed my eyes tightly after he left and tried to imagine little Brett without any clothing on. Man, I'd like to keep my eye on her all right, I thought. Both eyes, in fact. And my hands and...
"Dreaming about me, sugar?" Brett's soft voice broke into my thoughts, causing me to jump slightly.
I opened my eyes slowly, enjoying the gradual revelation of a nicely turned pair of ankles, shapely calves, knees, thighs, delectable...
I sat bolt upright and held my breath. Then I gathered enough strength to lift my eyes and sighed with relief when I finally reached a bit of red cloth. Brett Carlisle was wearing the flimsiest bikini I had ever seen in my life and up until that moment, I had been under the impression that she was standing before me stark naked the way I had been imagining her in my daydream. I quickly lay on my back again, preferring my previous vantage point.
My eyes focused hungrily on her long, lovely legs, lingering longingly on the smooth flesh of her thighs and the exposed portion-and it was much-of her hips. She stood over me for a long while, tantalizingly still, then she shifted her position slightly so that her body rested on one hip. It was almost as if she were posing for me and my fingers ached with longing to touch that tempting tan skin.
And then, before I knew what was happening, she had dropped to her knees beside me on the blanket. "Mind if I share your blanket with you?" she asked coyly, knowing damn well that I didn't.
"Be my guest," I shrugged indifferently, unable to take my eyes off the tempting flesh that was threatening to burst out of the tiny red top of her bikini. She shifted her position so that her breasts jiggled precariously, nearly causing my eyes to pop out of my head. I swallowed the enormous lump that was forming in my throat and moved over to make room for her. Then I closed my eyes tightly and pretended to fall asleep, struggling to make myself think about the water or my date with Linda that night or something cool, like an ice cube. My body felt as if it were on fire, just knowing that Brett was stretched out next to me, barely an inch away from me. Close enough to touch-if I wanted to.
And man, did I want to! I sighed deeply and tried to concentrate on nothing.
I was just about managing to sink into oblivion when a weird jumble of sounds blared into my eardrum, nearly causing me to jump out of my skin.
"Mind if I play my radio, Glenn?" Brett asked in a tone that said she didn't give a damn whether I minded or not. I started to answer her indignantly, lifting myself up on one elbow, but when I looked into those green eyes of hers I dropped my head again and muttered, "Do whatever you like. Just lower it a bit, huh, so a guy can get some sleep."
"Sure, Glenn," she purred softly, lowering her transistor radio almost imperceptively, and changing the station until she found some crooner singing a corny love song. Then she lay down beside me again and everything was all right for a little while.
Just as I was dozing off again, I felt what seemed to be an electric tremor through my body. I opened my eyes slightly, squinting against the rays of the sun and discovered that my suspicions were right. Brett had slid one long, tanned leg over slightly so that it touched one of mine. The contact was light, but it was enough to make breathing difficult for me. I glanced over at her to see if she were conscious of what she was doing, but her eyes were shut tightly and there was a small smile on her pale lips.
I decided to test her and moved my leg away and sure enough, a second later, her leg was against mine again, only closer this time. I stifled a grin and returned the pressure, luxuriating in the sensual delight of her sun-warmed flesh against my own, of the sun baking down on us both lovingly, of the sound of the waves crashing softly against the shore.
I forgot that she was my friend's kid sister for a moment and followed my instincts. I rolled over and kissed her, hard, before either one of us knew what was happening. She opened her lips almost immediately and let her tongue slide into my mouth, her breasts arching against my chest as she did so. Then I felt dizzy-a combination of sun and passion, no doubt-and entwined my leg around hers and groped for the flesh above her bikini top.
She arched her entire body toward me for a moment and then, suddenly and cruelly, she drew away. I looked down at her in surprise and found myself staring into two green mocking pools that were her eyes.
"All right, Glenn, you're dismissed," she informed me, never taking her eyes from mine.
I gaped, unable to believe my ears. "Huh?" I asked brilliantly.
"The test is over," she explained patiently as if she were talking to a stupid child. "If I want you, I'll contact you."
I stared at her in amazement for a second then burst out laughing. "You can't be real." I choked. Then I happened to glance down at her bosom and I felt the pressure of her legs against mine and I inhaled the delightful aroma of her cologne mingled with the salt air and I knew that she was real. I swallowed hard and sputtered, "What are you trying to pull, kid? You wanted me to kiss you as much as I wanted to. What's all this garbage about an experiment?"
She shrugged and smiled at me seductively, moistening her lips with her tongue as she did so. "Of course I wanted you to," she agreed amiably, "but it was only for future reference. Besides, my big brother will be back any minute now and we don't want to shock him, do we? So if you'll kindly climb off me..."
I stared at her, for a moment, feeling numb, then I jumped up as though I had been bitten by a rattlesnake and ran into the ocean.
About fifteen minutes later, after I felt thoroughly cooled off, I returned to the blanket and played cards with Bill for a couple of hours. I glanced over at Brett occasionally, but she was preoccupied in getting a suntan and in listening to her radio and refused to look at me. That really bugged me-the way she pretended I didn't even exist, and I drank two cans of beer as I thought that would make me lose all awareness of her presence. That didn't work too well however, as it only made me feel sleepy and sensual and she certainly didn't help matters any, the way she'd accidentally let her bare back rub against mine every time she decided to sit up and put more suntan lotion on her body. Bill couldn't understand why he won practically every game of gin we played since I usually was the winner, but I laughed it off and told him that it was difficult for me to concentrate in the hot sun.
I neglected to mention that his kid sister's rubbing her little buttocks against mine every once in a while didn't make concentration any easier.
That evening, I had a date with Linda and I got to her house an hour early which should give you some idea how anxious I was to be with a woman. Little Brett
Carlisle had done an excellent job of warming me up that afternoon and I felt as though I would explode if I didn't have some loving in one big fat hurry.
I drove my old blue jalopy outside of her house and honked my horn impatiently. Oddly enough, Linda was ready-also impatient, I guess-and came out to the car a few moments later. She looked smashing, I might add. She wore a low scooped-neck yellow blouse tucked into a clinging black skirt and her bare feet were encased in a pair of black leather sandals. I noted, appreciatively, how her long, blue-black hair cascaded over her shoulders.
She slid in beside me, bestowing a not so chaste kiss on my lips, and looked surprised but pleased when I pulled her to me.
"Well," she gasped breathlessly when I finally released her, "this is a lovely way to spend an evening..."
I laughed nervously and wondered how she'd react if I drove her straight back to my apartment without even going to a movie or nightclub first. Linda had a rather hot temper and I was absolutely in no mood for a scene. All I wanted to do was spend a nice cozy evening in bed. So did she, in all probability, but being a girl she expected the token conventional cover-up first. After all, she was a nice girl. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye and all I could imagine was the delectable flesh beneath her flimsy blouse. I gulped and decided to use psychology on her.
"Honey," I said, using my very deepest voice. "Are you as sick of all this kid stuff as I am?"
She tossed her head causing her long hair to fall over one eye sexily. "What do you mean?" she asked curiously.
I rested my hand casually on her thigh and pressed it gently but insinuatingly. "You know," I pressed. "All this hypocrisy about 'doing something' before going home and going to bed."
Linda looked at me uncomprehendingly.
"Not like you I mean," I continued in bland haste. "If we feel like making love we do it-whether it's the beginning of the evening or the end. Right, sweetheart?"
"Yes, I guess so," she answered with hesitation. "Are you trying to tell me something, Glenn darling?"
I winked at her after giving her the once-over. She got my point and nodded cynically. "Are you trying to tell me something?" she repeated.
"You might say that," I replied, giving her my most charming grin. "Would you be very upset if I suggested going back to my place first and-if you like-going to a flick later on?"
She placed her hand high on my thigh for answer.
I pulled her into my embrace the minute we entered the apartment. The door slammed behind us and I pressed her against it unable to get close enough to her. She arched her body against mine in a tantalizingly fluid motion that sent a shudder through me.
"Oh, Glenn baby," she moaned, as my tongue forcefully parted her lips and entered her warm, moist mouth. I fumbled blindly for the zipper on her blouse and she moaned softly, eyes closed, swaying before me as the blouse fell about her waist and my hands loved her. Then my mouth burrowed in the valley between her breasts and found the pink tautness of her.
Her nipples blossomed beneath my lips and the flame heightened within me. Stifling a groan, I lifted her roughly in my arms and carried her across the room, dumping her unceremoniously on my bed.
I paused only long enough to rip off my clothing and toss it on the floor. I had expected her to be waiting for me, naked, also, but except for her blouse, she was still fully clothed.
"Undress me, baby," she murmured excitedly.
"Aren't you old enough to undress yourself," I muttered hoarsely.
She giggled and reached out to caress me. That was all the encouragement I needed. Her skirt zipper came down easily enough and I let it slide to to floor unheeded. I grasped eagerly at the clasp on her black brassiere and it came unhooked easily. My hands slid past her waist to the waistband of her matching black bikini panties and I slid them down expertly, aided by her rather expert arching of her voluptuous hips. I tossed her underclothing impatiently to the floor and came to her. Luckily she was just as impatient as I was and didn't seem to mind that I had eliminated the usual drawn-out foreplay to go straight for the main action. That was one of the things I really liked about Linda-she was so obliging.
Anxious though I was to achieve fulfillment, I found my mind beginning to wander. Now this was a strange enough phenomenon for me. But, even stranger, I found myself haunted by the tantalizing image of a seventeen-year-old sexy little brat...
I gasped in surprise when Linda's arms tightened convulsively about my neck in a fit of passion. The writhing pressure of her voluptuous flesh brought me back to the present with a jolt, and I hastened my pace in order to catch up with her again.
Within seconds I had reached my ecstatic destination and with a piercing cry of pleasure, Linda followed, a close second. We disentangled ourselves after a few moments to become two separate entities again. We lay side by side, trying to recapture our normal rate of breathing, each lost in our own thoughts.
Every so often, Linda would lean over me, her breasts bobbing in my face in what I suppose she thought was a seductive pose. "Glenn, baby," she'd gurgle, "do you have absolutely any idea what you do to me? You are the wildest, baby! The utter most!"
Linda would have had a rather different opinion of me if she had known that, while I was lying there in a pleasant stupor with a silly grin on my face, she couldn't have been further from my thoughts.
Already I was devising a plan of attack by which to lure a lovely blonde child-nymph named Brett into my bed....
CHAPTER TWO
BRETT
New York can be pretty dismal during the summer, and it seemed especially bad to me when I was seventeen-and dateless. Having just graduated from high school a couple of months before and not starting college until September, I had only one thing on my restless little mind-men.
I lived with my folks and obnoxious older brother in a spacious nine-room apartment overlooking Fifth Avenue and from my bedroom window I had a fabulous view of Central Park. On this particular day-the day of my big decision-I was gazing morosely out of my rain-streaked window feeling unutterably sorry for myself. The view was beginning to get on my nerves-as were the lovers strolling hand in hand into the sheltering shadows of the Park.
And who could blame me, I thought ruefully. For the fifth straight Saturday night in a row I was dateless and deriving a perverse satisfaction from watching nameless strangers embarking on the usual Saturday night date. Ha, I scoffed, usual for other girls perhaps. Not only hadn't I been asked out in ages, but there were not even any prospects in sight. All of the interesting guys around had either gone into the army or were away in college.
The finks I had graduated from high school with were suddenly too young for me.
My girl friends were practically all in the same boat, of course, but at least they had something to look forward to in the fall. Their parents were letting them go away to out of town colleges while mine were making me attend a large city university where I would probably be only another anonymous face. I tearfully tried to persuade my folks to change their minds, but all I achieved was a tentative promise to reconsider in two years.
"Two years!" I had wailed pitifully. "By that time I'll be gray-haired!"
My mother had patted me affectionately on the head and laughed, "Premature gray hair doesn't run in our family, darling. At least nobody that I can remember ever got it at nineteen."
"Well, if you make me become a subway student for the next two years, I'm going to be the first," I had threatened mournfully.
My mother had merely laughed and gone off to her mah jong game and that had ended the discussion. I had tried to make the best of the situation for a while, but now it was beginning to get to me.
What did other girls do, I wondered. Surely not all of them were in the same solitary predicament as me. Could it be that something was wrong with me-that men found me unappealing? I had always been extra careful about heeding all the personal cleanliness hints blasted insistently at me from television commercials, I thought humorously. Well, I must be doing something wrong.
I slid from the blue leather window seat and went to study i myself in the full-length mirror for the second time that evening, to reassure myself that my panic was senseless. Even in the powder blue bathrobe I was wearing I knew I was an unusually attractive girl. Of course, I always looked my best in blue, I observed objectively. It goes so well with my darkly fringed deep-set blue-green eyes and creamy complexion-not to mention my long tawny-blonde hair, with the piquant scattering of bangs on my forehead.
So far so good, I approved proudly. Now to examine the rest of the merchandise, I decided making sure my bedroom door was locked before turning back to the mirror.
I hastily pulled open the terry cloth robe and let it slide past my provocative young breasts, my slender waist and sleek hips. When the robe lay in a lifeless pile about my ankles, I stepped out of it and tossed it on my bed before turning to reexamine myself. I never tired of studying my newly-developed beauty-it seemed like only yesterday that I had been a gawkily thin little girl who was afraid of her own shadow.
Not only was I not ashamed of my lovely body but I wished I had a special boyfriend with whom to enjoy it, I thought wickedly, smiling at my image in the mirror. After all, if a girl has what it takes, why not make the most of it, I figured. I wondered what my parents would say if they knew the train of my private thoughts at that time. My father would probably grumble and blame it on the fact that I had been cooped up in an all girls school for three years and my mom would have refused to take it seriously and put it down to growing pains, no doubt.
And maybe they would both be partly right, I admitted, shrugging once more into my robe and curling up on my bed. But whatever the cause, something would have to be done to remedy the situation, I decided practically. While I was only seventeen at the time, if I didn't hurry up I was going to end up a dried up old maid who never knew what love was.
Yes, I smiled sleepily to myself as I slid cozily under the sheet, little Brett was going to have to make things happen....
Naturally, when I heard that big brother was going to Atlantic Beach the following day I convinced him to take me along. Well, actually, the folks threatened to suspend his allowance if he didn't. I hated to force my company upon him in that way, but it was a matter of life or death to me at that point. After all, if you couldn't count on your brother to introduce you to men-who could you count on? You can imagine how thrilled I was when I met Glenn that day. I was astonished that my drippy brother could have such a gorgeous friend. Naturally, I deduced that he was a swinger at first glance and as I was rather bright for my age I also guessed that he could have all the women he wanted. I used my natural feminine instinct and decided to be as tantalizing but irreproachable as I could. With a popular guy like Glenn, you needed a gimmick, I figured. Even if it was as corny as playing hard-to-get and not jumping into a bed with him on the first few meetings. And judging from his first reaction to me, I had no doubt but that he would come crawling to me in a very short time...
About two weeks passed and I neither saw nor heard from him again. I was beginning to panic, to be perfectly frank. Casually, I asked brother Bill about him and my darling brother gave me a knowing grin and smugly informed me that Glenn was busy swinging with some doll named Linda. My heart sank and I smiled weakly mumbling something like she must be really desperate to go out with a creep like Glenn. Bill laughed mockingly at me and I gritted my teeth and tried not to give way to the desire to throw something at him.
Luckily, Bill was throwing a party in our apartment the coming Friday night-my folks were going away for the weekend to celebrate their twenty-second anniversary, so we had the place to ourselves. I timidly asked Bill if I were invited and since I lived there he had no choice but to grumble an affirmative answer. That way he knew that I wouldn't do any snitching to my parents about what the party was like after the lights went out ... Of course, I couldn't have cared less what he or the other guests had in mind. I had my own plans and that concerned a body beautiful by the name of Glenn.
I suppose I had a feeling that something earthshaking was going to happen that night because I put on my brand new black bikini underwear. Not, mind you, that I had any ulterior motives in mind. But, just in case ... I had a powder blue slip of a dress that I had never worn before. In fact, I never thought I'd have the nerve to wear before. Tonight I was determined to make a big impression though, so I put it on. Somehow my long tawny hair didn't add to the seductive way I looked from the neck down. In fact, I looked like Alice in Wonderland dressed in her mother's clothing. On a sudden impulse, I scooped my hair up with my hand and found it strangely becoming. It even added about three years to my age. Excitedly, I pinned it up in a sophisticated style that was softened by my pixie-ish bangs. I was going to knock Glenn dead tonight, I vowed. Either he was going to forget every other girl he ever knew when he set eyes on me, or I was going to voluntarily resign from the female sex.
I inched a bit closer to Roy Sanford, one of Bill's long time friends who-for some strange reason-fancied himself a real Casanova. "Would you mind getting me another drink?" I purred seductively.
He glanced compulsively into the low-cut bosom of my dress and gulped loudly. "Anything you like," he vowed fervently, hurrying away with one last look into my bodice.
I stifled a giggle and by sheer will-power refused to glance in the direction of Glenn who had been ogling me from afar all evening. Some sexy-looking broad whom I guessed was Linda was hanging onto his arms all evening. I sensed that if she were out of the picture I'd have the field clear to myself. I seriously considered pouring a drink over her rather gaudy print dress, but I decided against it, figuring that it would be unlady-like. Anyway, before my attentive Roy reappeared, I casually inched my way closer to where Glenn and Linda were standing. A moment later, Roy found me and handed me my drink. I proposed a toast to his health and he became all flustered. Just as he lifted the glass tremblingly to his lips, I blurted out a demand for an ashtray. Anxious to be of service, he hastened to get one. Unfortunately for him I stuck my foot out and tripped him. Actually, it was unfortunate for Linda too, because Roy's drink flew from his hands as he fell and its contents splattered all over Linda's dress.
She shrieked and a curse escaped her red, red lips. I caught Glenn's eye and thought I detected a rather amused smile for one brief moment. I cringed at the possibility that he had seen me trip Roy and I turned away in embarrassment. When I looked up again Glenn and Linda were nowhere in sight. Apparently my plan had backfired and he had taken her home. Crestfallen, I accepted listlessly when Roy asked me to dance, and was scarcely aware that he was holding me more closely than was necessary-or even proper.
I was vaguely aware of someone tapping Roy on the shoulder and of him ungraciously giving me up to the newcomer, but it didn't occur to me to look up to see who I was dancing with until I heard him chuckle. Startled, I looked up and felt the color rush to my face.
"You were a million miles away," Glenn laughed, looking down into my face and I turned away so that he wouldn't see the pure joy in my eyes.
"What are you doing here?" I muttered ungraciously when I could speak. "I thought you took your date home to change her dress."
"I did," he agreed, "But then we had a fight. I wanted to come back here to the party and she didn't."
"Well, it certainly wasn't very nice of you to come back alone," I said severely, holding tighter to his arm to stifle the increasingly lightheaded feeling that was coming over me.
He shrugged impudently and pulled me closer into his arms. At that moment I was glad they were playing a foxtrot and not a frug. "I'm not a very nice guy," he boasted, pressing his lips behind my ear and causing a tingle to spread like wildfire throughout my entire body. "Besides," he added, "I had some unfinished business here."
I looked at him questioningly. "like what?" I asked innocently.
"like an unfinished kiss," he whispered, emphasizing it by bending me in a low dip as the record ended.
"Oh, that," I shrugged indifferently, deciding to play it cool, though my heart was racing a mile a minute. "I didn't realize I had made such a deep impression on you."
He grinned maddeningly as he took me by the hand and dragged me into the darkened hallway. "You certainly did," he said, "and I'd like a chance to return the favor."
"What do you mean?" I asked nervously as his arms went around me.
"Let's cut out of here," he explained, bending and brushing his lips gently across the exposed portion of my bosom. "We can go back to my place and really get to know each other."
"What for?" I gulped. "We can stay here and-and have fun, too. The party should really start swinging in a few minutes."
"Kid stuff," he scoffed, backing me up against the wall and moving in on me. "Of course, if these kiddie games are more your speed..."
Indignantly, I opened my mouth to protest but he covered my lips with his own and by the time the hot kiss had ended I knew I would go to the ends of the earth with him if he asked me. So what if he was a little fast? I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself, wasn't I?
Kissing Glenn and having him touch my body was every bit as wonderful as I thought it would be. I was deliriously happy with the knowledge that this was a real man who was kissing me, not one of those high school punks I was used to. As if he read my mind, Glenn's arms tightened about me and his tongue forced its way aggressively past my lips and arrogantly explored my mouth. Never before had I been kissed like that and I felt a thrill of anticipation go through my naked body as I waited for his next move.
"Oh, Brett baby," he sighed, lifting his mouth from mine for a moment. "I knew you were a little tiger the t time I saw this sexy little body of yours."
"I didn't think you noticed," I murmured modestly, remembering that afternoon at the beach. He ran a large hand caressingly up and down the length of my leg, and chuckled. "The way you were flaunting your torso at me-how could I miss?" he teased.
I gasped suddenly as his agile fingers began to expertly manipulate my flesh. No man had ever touched me like that before and it startled me at first, but then I closed my eyes and began to enjoy the tingling new sensations that were coursing through me. At one point, I started to ask him what I could do to please him, but suddenly it came to me in a flash of womanly intuition. A moment later, he was moaning happily and I was glad that I had followed my natural instincts.
"You sure are a woman!" he muttered, as his lips came down to my breasts and he loved each of them in turn, slowly and tantalizingly, until they had become peaked with passion. I heard a soft moan escape my lips as I waited for him to do something to release me from this agonizing pleasure. I was as taut as a violin string and he kept playing my flesh with his lips and hands and tongue until I was sure every single fiber in me was going to break. I lay there quivering as he left me for a moment, and I felt the alien air on my tingling flesh.
Then Glenn was with me again, murmuring soft, encouraging words against my ear. I understood what he was going to do immediately, and although it was the very first time for me, I felt no fear. There was nothing in the world I wanted more than to belong to Glenn-I had known that the minute I laid eyes on him. I smiled tenderly and pressed his handsome head against my breasts, wanting him to hear how wildly my heart was beating.
He took me swiftly, expertly so that I barely felt the initial shock, though I was conscious of a brief look of surprise on his face as he possessed my body. I felt pleased with myself that I had deceived him into thinking that I had been around a lot. Suddenly, Glenn's slow movements picked up momentum and tears of joy squeezed out of my tightly clenched eyes as I felt a fire building up inside me. Instinctively, I began to match and eventually surpass the pace that Glenn had set, afraid that if I slowed down, the fire would consume me. We both kept racing and racing and I was vaguely conscious of the bed springs creaking encouragingly beneath us.
Almost as if it had been prearranged, we both reached our thrilling destination at about the same time. I was reluctant to come down again-it was all so new and wonderful for me. I had no idea that a human being could reach those heights just being in the arms of the man she loved, I marveled gratefully.
Finally, I opened my eyes and looked over at Glenn, fully expecting him to look as ecstatic as I was sure I did. Instead, he was looking at the ceiling as if he were still in another world. Gingerly, I reached over and touched his chest. I could not contain a smile as I felt his still uneven breathing.
He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and growled, "What's so amusing?"
I rested my head on his chest so that my hair spilled over him. "Nothing really," I murmured sheepishly. "I'm just happy."
He grunted and I could tell that he was pleased, despite the fact that he was determined not to show it. Did all men act so unresponsive after making love, I wondered?
"Are you?" I pressed, looking adoringly into his eyes. He looked back at me with sober hazel eyes and then grinned and mussed my hair.
I breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought you were annoyed at me because I was no good..." I fished.
"You were great and you know it," he said wryly. "But don't you think you should have let me know that you were a virgin goddess?"
"Would it have made any difference?" I asked shrewdly, bestowing a kiss on his ear.
He grinned back and drew me tightly against him. "Now that you mention it, I guess it wouldn't."
I laughed delightedly, amused by the knowledge that he was no good and that he knew I knew he was no good-and that I loved him.
"I know I should be playing it cool," I said daringly, given courage by the touch of his fingers on my breast. "But I'm afraid I'm in love with you." I thought he stiffened slightly, but maybe it was my imagination. "Do you love me too?" I persisted.
His hands grasped my buttocks tightly and I was surprised at the rapid recovery of his passion. Who was I to complain? Besides, I took his wanting me again as a sign that he loved me.
"Wait a minute," I teased, as he rolled me over on my back. "You haven't said the magic words yet."
He was breathing very hard now, trying to pin me down as I tried to squirm away from him. His fingers were digging into my thighs and rather than pain I felt an odd sense of power such as I had never experienced before. And also a sort of fear that went with that power. "Say it, Glenn," I begged, twisting my body sinuously against his, realizing even as I was doing it that what I was doing was wrong.
"I love you, I love you," he blurted, forcing me to his will with a sudden movement.
As pleasure started taking hold of me again, I believed him. How else could he bring me such joy?
Later, as he held me in his arms, he wiped the tears from my cheeks and asked me why.
And suddenly I was older than my seventeen years and I had a sudden and accurate premonition of the future-my future. I buried my face in the pillow and sobbed.
"What is it?" he asked anxiously. "I'm afraid, I'm so afraid," I whispered.
CHAPTER THREE
GLENN
I didn't mean for it to end the way it did with Brett-especially not that soon. But, unfortunately, it just couldn't be helped. When Linda found out that I was having an affair with Brett about two weeks later, she was furious. She went to her father and fabricated some cockeyed story that I had promised to marry her when I graduated from college if she'd sleep with me. Now I had deserted her for Brett Carlisle and she had given up her virginity in vain. You can imagine my shock and fury when I heard that story. Linda was an innocent when I first took up with her like Santa Claus lives in hell. Anyway, I figured the smartest thing I could do at this point would be to leave town and go back to college before I was forced into a shotgun wedding.
I was afraid to break the news to Brett-she had been under the impression that I had another month before I left for college in Miami. When I told her the news-not leaving out a thing-she was motionless for a moment and I could tell that all kinds of things were running through her mind. Then she nodded stoically, not meeting my eyes and then kissed me quickly and got out of the car.
I remember thinking as I watched her disappear into her apartment house that there was something I should have done, or said. But somehow the right words didn't occur to me-or if they did, I managed to suppress them. I had never quite forgiven Brett for misleading me when we first met. She came across as such a sexy little broad that naturally I assumed she had had many lovers. Don't get me wrong-I was very flattered that she had chosen me to be her Prince Charming, but I didn't particularly care for the sense of responsibility that went along with it. Not that I didn't feel an awful lot of tenderness toward her-I did. Probably more than I ever felt in my entire life. But there was something about her, after I got to know her, that made her seem helpless. Whenever she looked at me during those short three weeks that we were lovers, I saw gratitude in her eyes and something else I just wasn't able to cope with at the time-love. I was too young to allow myself to fall in love. I was very young and had a career to carve out for myself. Advertising was a rough field and I was going to have all I could do to take care of myself without having the responsibility of a wife. Responsibility-the word sent shivers down my spine...
I met this doll, in my last month at the University, whose father was the head of one of the largest advertising agencies in New York. Suddenly this girl began to look beautiful to me and I made up my mind to impress her with the power of my manhood. She was a thin little brunette with a pleasant enough face but very little sex appeal. I took her to an off-limits bar with me one night-and since I was a senior and she was a mere freshman, she eagerly accepted-and poured one too many gin and tonics into her. By the time I dropped her off at her dorm that night, I knew for a fact that she had slept with two guys and had felt absolutely no response. I informed her smugly that there was nothing to worry about-that she had merely picked men who were not men. I drove her back, a secretive smile on my lips, and I was aware of her watching me speculatively the whole while. I walked her to her door, said good-night, gave her a good-night kiss that she would not soon forget-and then left her.
I deliberately did not get in touch with her for three weeks-long enough for her to begin to worry about whether she'd ever see me again but not quite long enough for her to forget me completely. I was aware of the fact that I had aroused her curiosity with my casual boasts about my manhood. I've never met a woman who didn't go for the bait-hook, line and sinker...
During those three weeks, I went through the motions of studying for final exams, but didn't really break my neck over it as I knew I would be able to get most of the answers from my egghead of a roommate who was scheduled to take the exam a few hours before me. Mostly I just lay basking in the sun on the large campus and taking turns wondering about my future-I was going to graduate in two months-and whistling at the coeds who swung their hips as they passed in front of me. Once I even dozed off in the hot sun and strangely enough woke up to find that I had been dreaming of Brett. That shook me up a bit, because that never happened to me before. If I dreamt about anyone it was usually the girl of the moment. Once I'm finished with a girl, I'm really finished with her. I'm from that school of thought that believes you can't go home again. Anyhow, when I woke up, I had this weird feeling that I wanted to hear her voice. When I got back to my fraternity house I got as far as the pay phone, but there was already a waiting line of four guys. What the hell, I shrugged, I could phone Brett any old time. The kid was really hung up on me, I thought proudly, and I'd treated her like a heel. I hated to admit it, but I kind of dug the chick. I decided to invite her to a big shindig that my fraternity was having in a couple of weeks. Unfortunately, the telephone remained busy all that evening and finally I gave up, fully intending to try again the next day. But somehow, the next day in the reality of broad daylight, the idea no longer appealed to me. I couldn't afford to lead Brett on, at that point of the game-I had my immediate future to think of. Used as I was to having things done for me all my life, I couldn't see taking on the responsibility of a dependent female. What I needed-and fully intended to get-was someone with enough wealth and an influential family to take care of me.
When I called Brenda three weeks later, she played it coy at first and pretended not to recognize my voice-something Brett would never have done, I acknowledged silently. After a few minutes of small talk, I asked Brenda out for that weekend and after some more hesitation during which she tried to make me believe she was trying to remember whether she was booked up or not, she finally accepted. By this time I was really annoyed with her and if she had waited one more second to give me an answer I would have hung up on her and my whole life would have been different.
Frankly, I wasn't madly intrigued by the girl. I mean, let's face it-she certainly didn't come on strong like Brett did. Oh well, I figured philosophically, maybe she was the kind of woman who grew on you. As it turned out I was right. Brenda grew on you all right-like a leech.
I picked her up Friday night and brought her back to my frat house for some dancing and a beer-drinking party. I was amused by the way she snuggled up to me while we were dancing and I could tell by the minimum of talking that she did that she had but one thing on her mind...
After about my fourth beer, Brenda almost began to look good to me-especially when someone got the bright idea of switching off the lights. After a while I was conscious only of holding a woman's body in my arms and taking erotic liberties with her as we danced in the smoky darkness. Suddenly the challenge of proving to Brenda that she was really a woman began to excite me. I was going to give her a night of love that she would never forget. And she would be so eternally grateful to me that she would ask her father to give me a job with his firm. Maybe the plan was a little cold-blooded but it's always been my feeling that to get ahead in this world you've got to look out for yourself.
Anyway, when we ran out of beer my fraternity brothers and their dates all decided to cut out-maybe take in a movie or go into town for some more beer, or maybe even hit the motel circuit. I asked Brenda what she felt like doing, knowing damned well what her answer was going to be.
She rested her head against my chest and said in a weak voice, "I'm feeling kind of woozy from the beer, Glenn. I'm not used to drinking so much." She had had one can. "Do you suppose we could stay here for a while and meet the others later?"
I stifled a laugh and patted her gently on the shoulder.
"I'm sure we can manage that," I said soberly, trying to ignore the knowing wink that one of the guys was flashing at me.
No more than ten minutes later, Brenda was lying nude on one of the brown leather couches. She was lying on her back and looking up at me as I took off my clothing, her long brown hair trailing off the edge of the couch. Glancing at her, I noticed that her brown eyes were focused avidly on my muscular body and several times her tongue slid nervously across her lips. Yes, this was going to be an interesting evening, I decided as I lowered myself beside her.
Just as my lips were inches from hers, she suddenly put her hands against my chest and pushed me away. "Glenn-wait," she murmured.
"What is it, sweetheart?" I asked, puzzled. If she thought she was going to back out now, she was out of her crazy mind.
"The light," she whispered shyly.
"Light? What light?" I asked, really confused now.
She sat up slightly and pointed, and I realized she meant the porch light. "Please shut it off," she whispered.
"What for?" I asked her blankly.
She looked at me in embarrassed silence for I few moments until I finally got it through my skull that she wanted to be made love to in the dark.
"Nothing doing, honey," I informed her. "I'm a guy who-likes to see what he's doing."
She looked surprised that I hadn't gotten up and turned the light off. Evidently, she was used to guys who obeyed her every whim. Well, she was going to learn that I wasn't going to cater to her. According to my plan, she was going to become my slave.
"What's the matter, can't you stand to look at my ugly face?" I pressed cruelly, knowing that nothing could be further from the truth.
Her hands flew to my face and she stroked my cheeks tenderly. "Oh, of course not!" she gasped, thinking she had hurt my feelings. "How can you say such a ridiculous thing?"
I shrugged, playing the injured party to a hilt, a hurt expression on my face.
"Please believe me," she begged. "It had nothing to do with you. It's just that I'm not used to-I mean I never made love with the lights on before and..."
I decided to put her out of her misery. Besides, she had arranged her body against mine in such a way that I had become aroused. "It's all right, honey, "I murmured against her lips. "I understand. Besides, I think it's kind of sweet that you're so modest."
She arched her slender body against mine gratefully, as if to tell me she was apologizing and I could do what I wished with her. I fully intended to do that anyway, but it was kind of nice that I had her approval. I lowered my lips to her small breasts while my hands ran wild over the rest of her. In no time at all she was moaning.
Two months later, after the graduation ceremony, Brenda and I went out to celebrate. For the tenth time, talk about my future plans came up and for the first time, Brenda finally suggested that she speak to her father about giving me a position with his advertising agency.
"Oh, no," I protested modestly. "What would your dad want with an inexperienced guy like me?"
Just then the waiter brought our scotches. When he placed them before us and went away, Brenda placed her hand on my knee beneath the table.
"Why, darling," she murmured, "Daddy will be delighted to give you a job. I've already spoken to him about you," she added, squeezing my knee possessively.
I choked back a pleased laugh of triumph. "Why, thanks," I murmured casually. "That was very sweet of you, darling," I smiled.
She laughed. "Not really, dear. As a matter-of-fact it was really very selfish of me."
I tensed. "What do you mean?" I asked nervously, taking a large gulp of my drink.
Brenda smiled sweetly. "Well, I thought it would be nice if my husband had a good job. Frankly, Glenn, I'm not used to starving."
"Husband? What husband?" I croaked, feeling my knees go weak.
"Why you, darling, of course," she laughed. "Daddy promised to give you the job right after we're married."
"But-but I'm not ready to get married," I stammered, feeling sick. "I don't remember proposing to you yet."
"But I want you," she said matter-of-factly. "Besides," she added, looking at me through narrowing eyes, "you'd better."
I stiffened. "What's that supposed to mean," I asked gruffly.
"Well," she sighed, "if I told Daddy that you and I have been having an affair he might not like it. In fact, he might even decide to blacklist you so that you'd never get a job in advertising for the rest of your life. He'd do that, you know, if I told him I thought I was pregnant."
"You wouldn't," I gasped incredulously.
"Just try me," she smiled sweetly.
I stared at her in silence, knowing that I was licked. I had dug my own grave and I was going to he in it.
"Don't look so miserable, darling," she said. "You're going to start off as a copywriting trainee but Daddy's going to start you off at a salary of ten thousand a year."
At the time, it softened the blow and I managed a weak smile.
Just then, Brenda lifted her glass to mine and toasted, "To us."
"To us," I repeated numbly.
CHAPTER FOUR
BRETT
I read someplace, once, that periods devoid of love are empty pages in a woman's life. I am inclined to agree with that theory. For the first six months after Glenn walked out of my life I did nothing more interesting than brood and cry myself to sleep, both day and night. At first I thought he would write to me, but when a month went by and there was still no word from him, I realized that I had meant nothing more to him than a conquest. I thought I had used up all my tears when suddenly, after' six months I found that I had become absolutely numb. I was strongly convinced that I was going to remain that way for the rest of my life, not having any emotions to speak of. I went through all the motions of living; I studied listlessly for college midterms, I went out on any and every blind date my father's business associates could dig up for me, and I even permitted them to make the usual pass at the end of the evening in the hopes that one of them might arouse me to some degree and permit me to stop comparing him to Glenn. Unfortunately, even the dumbest of them sensed my indifference and rarely was I asked out a second time, to my parents' despair and my intense relief.
I should have known that I wouldn't be able to keep my heart in deep-freeze forever, though. My first jolt from this abnormal euphoria came when I was glancing idly through the Sunday newspapers and came across the item indicating Glenn's marriage to some socialite whose father was the head of one of the largest advertising agencies in New York.
It was a quiet Sunday afternoon, I remember, and I was sprawled out on the living room carpet with part of the paper. My brother was out someplace, but my father and mother were in the living room watching some intellectual news program. When I began to scream, they glanced at me sharply at first for interrupting their program, and then my mother came running quickly to my side. I found it impossible to answer her anxious queries and could do nothing more than point. She drew in her breath sharply as she saw the article I was indicating and relayed it to my father, not taking her eyes from me. The pain in her eyes as she drew me into her arms and let me sob my heart out only emphasized my agony. Giving vent to every vestige of primitive grief I possessed, I continued to scream and sob uncontrollably, until finally for loss of anything else to do my father splashed a glass of cold water over my face and snapped me out of my hysteria. My mother tried to soothe me with sympathetic words, such as Glenn wasn't good enough for me and would only get what he deserved in the long run, while my father tried to be gruff and shout me out of my self-pity.
It was an awful night, all in all, one I Would rather forget. My mother wound up sleeping with me because every hour or so I would wake up shaking and yelling and she would be there to say comforting words and smooth back my hair and scratch my back until I fell asleep again.
By the time morning came, my heart was as shut against love and warmth as it had ever been and was going to stay that way forever, I decided.
I was wrong, as it turned out. I soon found out that at the end of a love affair comes self-pity, then an unquenchable desire for revenge. If I was nothing more than a physical conquest to Glenn, I would show him that he was nothing more than that to me. I made up my mind that the next male who walked into my apartment would become my next lover. My plan didn't work, however, because I could no more think of going to bed with the motley parade of blind dates than I could of sleeping with my own father. I was about ready to despair of meeting anyone acceptable when one day the doorbell rang...
I was wearing a pale blue peignoir over a powder blue nightgown even though it was three in the afternoon. I was in the midst of studying for a geology final and didn't see any need to get dressed.
"Who is it? I asked listlessly, annoyed at being disturbed just as I was beginning to comprehend the various rock formations. When a deep masculine voice informed me it was the maintenance man for the building, I sighed and unlatched the chain lock.
My breath caught in my throat as I observed the magnificent specimen of manhood that confronted me. He wasn't handsome in the conventional sense, but there was an undeniable animal magnetism in his looks which I was conscious of the moment his blue bedroom eyes paid homage to my scantily clad body.
"Yes, what is it?" I stammered.
"I was told to come up and inspect..." he paused, leering meaningfully at my breasts..."your oven. The manager told me that you filed a complaint it wasn't working." I swallowed nervously and drew my peignoir closer around my body in my nervousness. Actually, there was no reason why this complete stranger should make me so jumpy but he possessed an animal magnetism that I had never before come in contact with.
"My mother isn't home right now," I informed him nervously. "She's probably the one you ought to see."
"If she's anything like you, I'll be delighted to," he said under his breath. "When do you expect her back?"
I flushed, uncomfortably conscious of his eyes burning hotly into my thinly covered breasts. "I-I really don't know," I gulped. "Perhaps you ought to come back tomorrow."
He pushed the door back with his hand to prevent me from shutting it. His eyes challenged me boldly. "Do you suppose I might bother you for a cold drink? I've had a rough afternoon and I'm really beat," he said, smiling ingratiatingly.
I felt myself weakening and hated myself for it.
"Come in," I invited. "I'm sure there must be something I can give you. To drink, I mean," I added at his quick grin.
He followed me into the kitchen and I was painfully aware of his eyes on my buttocks under the flimsy gown as I walked. I tried to move sedately, but only managed to walk more seductively, I realized as I heard him whistle under his breath.
While I searched the refrigerator he examined the oven. "Beer or orange juice?" I asked, knowing immediately what his preference would be.
. "Beer will do nicely," he acknowledged, still examining the oven. "I'm off duty in half an hour anyway."
"Okay," I murmured, opening the can and reaching into the cabinet above my head for a glass. Suddenly, my body tensed and my hand stopped in midair ... No, it wasn't my imagination; his arms were definitely circling my waist. I started to turn in protest but remained frozen as I felt his lips press against the back of my neck. My body tingled and I only hoped he didn't notice. Evidently he did, however, as the nuzzling continued and his arms tightened around my waist.
I stood it as long as I could. "Are you almost finished?" I asked with a dryness I did not feel.
He spun me around to face him, the lower half of his wiry body pressed tightly against my own. "Cut it out, little one," he mocked.
"Take your hands off me this instant," I ordered, sounding ridiculously melodramatic even to myself.
For answer he drew me closer to him and buried my lips with his own. Almost immediately I felt myself responding to his overwhelming masculinity and as the tenseness left my body he sensed it and crushed me more tightly to him.
When I pushed him away at last, I was unable to look him in the eye. Without releasing my lower torso one inch, he stood looking down at me, arrogant and handsome, waiting for my next move. Perhaps he expected me to slap him, and perhaps I should have-maybe that would have prevented everything that followed afterward. After a few moments, during which I did nothing but stare blankly at his chest, he lifted my chin up gently so that I was forced to look up into those incredible blue eyes of his.
"Was that very painful?" he asked gently, referring to the kiss. When I didn't answer, he mused, "Well, so you're human, after all."
I realized that he was referring to my quick response and immediately got on the defensive. "Yes," I murmured, with a blase tone of voice, "I usually have to prove it the first time."
He gave me a long, long stare. "That hurt," he said finally, to my vast amusement.
"I didn't realize you were so sensitive," I mocked, still conscious of his body so close to mine. I knew that if I didn't put some distance between us-and fast-I was going to get myself into a lot of hot water.
To my intense disappointment, he released me immediately, as though he had just discovered he was holding a rattlesnake in his arms or something.
"You're a child," he said, looking at me pityingly, as he walked out of the kitchen.
I felt a tightness in my chest-I hated being rejected again. "You forgot your beer," I said weakly to his back.
He shrugged and continued walking to the front door. After a second's hesitation, I followed him into the hallway. When he turned, his tone was cool.
"Tell your mother I'll be back sometime this week to fix the oven," he said flatly, closing the door without giving me another look.
"All right," I said hoarsely to the closed door. "All right."
It took every bit of will-power I possessed not to open that door again and call him back. He had injured my feminine pride and I was unwilling to let him get away with it. Besiedes, I wanted him. I wanted him to make love to me. That would really show Glenn, wouldn't it? Wouldn't it show him he meant no more to me than this complete stranger...
I lay awake all that night cursing myself for letting the opportunity to have a real man make love to me slip through my fingers. Not that the man meant anything to me, but somehow I just knew that if another man put his hands on me, did the things to me that Glenn had done, it would erase every trace of the unfaithful Glenn from my mind and body. Perhaps it was a kind of temporary insanity that led me to that conclusion, but then I wasn't really myself in those days.
Anyhow, I didn't have very long to wait before I had a second chance to try out my rather misguided theory. Two days later, about ten in the morning, my mother came into my room and shook me gently awake. My geology exam was to take place at three that afternoon, and I preferred to sleep late rather than be awake and worry about it.
"Sweetie, I've got to run. I'm late for my hairdresser appointment," she said hurriedly.
"Yeah, okay, Mom," I said sleepily.
"Well, listen to me, Brett," she persisted impatiently. "I've just notified the maintenance man to come up and fix that oven, and he'll be up in half an hour, so I'd suggest you get up and get dressed so you can let him in. This is the maid's day off, in case you've forgotten."
"Umm, all right," I muttered absently.
I heard my mother sigh in exasperation as she strode out of my bedroom. Her hairdresser, Charles, was very temperamental and took it as a personal insult if she were five minutes late. I smiled to myself, amused by my mother's concern over so trivial a matter. She just didn't know what it was like to suffer like I did, I sighed martyrishly before falling asleep again. I had been having a delicious dream and yearned to continue it.
I awoke with a start and realized that it was not my dream but the doorbell that had been buzzing so persistently for the last few minutes. Suddenly, the last half hour flooded back to me and I sat up abruptly, with an audible gasp. How could I have let myself go back to sleep again when I knew he was coming?
"Just a minute!" I shouted, jumping out of bed and running over to my dresser mirror to examine the ravages sleep had made on my face. I sighed with relief as I glimpsed a flushed but pretty creature with tousled blonde hair and realized that I had nothing to lose by risking opening the door without putting makeup on. Besides, I still felt too sleepily sensuous to care about artificial things like clothing and makeup. As if to emphasize my confidence, I quickly ripped off my nightgown, gave myself a quick once-over, and raced to the door. Stopping briefly with my hand on the door knob, I brushed back a wisp of hair from my eyes, threw out my chest and opened the door.
My hand flew to my mouth in mock horror as I glimpsed him standing before me, diabolically attractive as the last time I had seen him. I was pleased to note that he failed to suppress a gasp of surprise and pleasure as his eyes went ravenously over my nudity.
"Oh," I gasped breathlessly. "I thought you were my mother. She's always forgetting her key."
His eyes followed my hips as I moved modestly behind the door, allowing only my head to show. He cleared his throat, and pretended to ignore me. "I was told to come up and do something about your oven," he said hoarsely, his eyes dartly rapidly to where he thought my breasts were behind the door and down again to the floor.
The fact that he appeared so flustered delighted me. "Certainly, come in," I acknowledged arrogantly, opening the door wider to permit him entry. Certainly the fact that I didn't even bother to put something on would show him how little I considered him as a man, a possible lover. I always did feel confident in sheer nudity-like some sort of a wood nymph perhaps. Anyway, despite my obvious physical vulnerability, I was confident that I held the upper hand.
Somehow, he sensed my superiority at that moment, because he was unable to look me in the eye. As I had done the last time, I led the way into the kitchen, I turned quickly once and permitted myself a scornful smile as I witnessed the naked hunger for me in his eyes.
"It's all yours," I said nonchalantly, pointing to the oven as if he had never seen it before. "Just let me know when you're finished."
"Yes, miss," he grated, reaching for the oven door with trembling fingers.
"I'll be in my bedroom. It's the second door off the hallway," I specified before turning and walking from the kitchen. "My mother wouldn't want me to let you leave without tipping you."
He didn't answer me, but flung a look at me that thrilled me through and through. It was going to be an interesting morning, I sensed. A very interesting morning.
Back in my room, I raced to the stereo my parents had given me for my last birthday and placed a pile of albums on the machine-drums, guitars-the beat. Doing a little hint of the twist, I grinned at myself in the mirror. Not since the last time I had been with Glenn did I feel so exhilaratedly alive. Every cell in my body seemed to be vibrating and I knew that if I wasn't pacified soon, I would go out of my mind.
I didn't have long to wait. Within fifteen minutes, there was a hesitant knocking on my bedroom door.
"Come in," I yawned, lying naked on my bed, pouring over a magazine.
He walked in and closed the door behind him. I could tell from the way he looked directly into my eyes that he had already made up his mind to have me-to pay me back for the insults I had inflicted on him. He stared at me silently for a long moment, before I dropped my eyes and gulped, "Yes?"
"Yes," he leered meaningfully, taking a step closer to me. "I came to collect my tip."
A shudder ran involuntarily through me as he came closer to the bed, shedding his clothing as he did so. A moment later, he was also lying on my bed, kissing the back of my neck as his hands reached around and cupped a breast in each hand.
Chills ran through my body and I shuddered again. He opened and closed his hands on my warm, fleshy breasts in rhythm with the music.
His hands massaged every inch of me; my neck and shoulders, my breasts, hips, thighs, and everything else. I sighed in ecstatic pleasure as he found the secrets of my body. All became a whirl, a mad, wonderful whirl. I entered a new dimension, a new world of pleasure. I laughed, I cried. I screamed as my young body became reawakened. Weird, crazy colors splashed before me. Pounding drums and strumming guitars echoed and reechoed. Somewhere cymbals clashed and my body went limp, soaked with perspiration and completely spent.
The music continued but the motion stopped. He was lighting a cigarette, still nude. On his face was one of the most appreciative smiles I had ever seen.
"Was I good?" I asked, un-self-consciously.
He kissed the peak of one of my swollen breasts gently. "Good! Baby, you were great, just great."
"Would you like a drink?" I suggested, thinking of my parent's overstocked bar. I was feeling giddy in my victory and feeling generous.
"It's a little too early," he grinned. "Besides, you're the only aphrodisiac I need."
We made wild love once more before he left and it could have happened again, but luckily I remembered my final that afternoon. "I-think you'd better leave," I stammered weakly, as his avid lips sank into my flesh again. "It's time I dressed and got ready to go back to school."
"Sweetheart," he murmured, nuzzling an especially sensitive area of my body, "if you were any more educated, I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to keep up with you."
"Not this kind of education," I giggled, caressing his sinewy body in return. "Now cut it out-I really must go."
He moaned as I struck a sensitive nerve. "Can't it wait?" he muttered. "What could possibly be more important than this?"
"I'm afraid I have a geology final," I said sheepishly, getting to my feet and going to the closet for a robe. "If I don't take this silly exam I'll never graduate."
His eyes focused on my squirming buttocks as I pulled on a pair of panties, my back towards him.
He watched me in silence while I dressed and I all but forgot him as I carefully applied my eye makeup. When I turned from the mirror I was startled to see that he was still there..
"Don't you think you ought to leave now?" I inquired, throwing an anxious glance at his clothing strewn around the floor, leaving a trail to my bed. "It wouldn't look too good if my brother happened to drop in, you know."
He got up slowly and came toward me. "When are we going to get together again?" he drawled, putting his arms around my waist.
I averted my face from his lips. "Please, you'll spoil my makeup," I protested nervously.
He pulled me to him roughly. "That didn't seem to bother you none before," he snarled.
"Let go of me-you're hurting me," I gasped, trying to wrench away from his grasp.
For answer, he sank his mouth savagely into mine, his teeth cutting my lips. When he released me finally, he stuck his face very close to mine and hissed, "You're nothing but a rich little tramp, so don't you ever try to play Miss High and Mighty with me again, understand? You'll come whenever and wherever and however I want you, and don't you forget it, sister."
With that he turned and slammed out of my bedroom. A moment later I heard the front door slam.
I stood and stared dazedly at my closed door for a long moment. He absolutely had to be kidding. This sort of thing just couldn't be happening to me. It had to be some kind of joke. He couldn't possibly mean what he had said.
Or could he?
CHAPTER FIVE
GLENN
If you make your own bed you're going to have to he in it-after nearly a year of married life, I was beginning to have a good idea what that old cliche meant. Literally. Not that I didn't have everything I had set out to get as an ambitious college kid ... the trouble was, I had more than I wanted-namely, a wife.
Apparently, I had underestimated my own skill at love-making that time I decided to make a big impression on Brenda. I sure made an impression all right-so much so that I got stuck in the cement! Brenda turned from a shy little kitten into an absolutely insatiable tigress. She just couldn't get enough of me. She wanted me around whenever and wherever she wanted me and even went to the extreme of blackmailing me into marriage. Don't get me wrong now-I enjoy sex as much as the next guy. Hell, I think it's the greatest indoor sport ever invented. But there simply has got to be a limit, and my dear wife was just not aware of this fact of life. Then, again, I was used to having variety in my life. I was the guy who changed women as often as most guys changed shirts. For the first six months I managed to adjust rather nicely to my new life. Brenda's folks bought us a cooperative apartment on the east side of Manhattan as a wedding gift, and it wasn't especially painful to go home, after a day's "work" at my cushy job, and find my rich little bride waiting for me with a dry martini and a negligee-clad body. By the time the novelty wore off, I was in up to my neck and it was too late to get out.
When I felt the monotony coming on, I began to go to the race-track every free chance I got. Luckily, Brenda couldn't stand the place-the element there disgusted her, she said, shuddering delicately. When I couldn't make it out there, I got in touch with a bookie one of the other guys in the copywriting department had an "in" with. In between dreaming up witty copy for our new client-a men's deodorant firm-I would study the morning line and try to make my selections. This went on for maybe seven months and suddenly one day I realized that I was really in the red-way over my head. Desperate, I forged several small checks with my father-in-law's signature and the company accountant cashed them for me without blinking an eyelash. When I had gotten away with this for some time, I got braver and began making out checks for larger amounts...
The day the new secretary was hired, I knew I was in for trouble from another direction. She was a tall, slim redhead with a body that just begged to be loved. And for some reason she chose me to be her benefactor. It all started out innocently enough. Every morning she would poke her cute head into my office and ask me if I'd like to order a container of coffee. She could have asked me if I wanted to buy the Brooklyn Bridge and I would have said yes. Anyway, the routine was the same every morning after that. She'd be the first real bit of scenery I'd see every morning and I began to look forward to it. I was usually one of the first in the office-this because I used to dash out of the house at an early hour to avoid waking Brenda. After our nightly sex sessions, we'd both be exhausted the next morning. That was all right for her, because she could sleep as late as she wished, while I had to get up early and go to an office. And since she could go back to sleep again after I left, Brenda felt no qualms about coercing me into an early morning sex session, which, when I let her get away with it left me half dead for the remainder of the day. So, in self-defense, I took to leaving the house at a ridiculously early hour.
Usually, the first person I would see would be this new young chick, who, while pleasing to the eyes was not much of a strain on my ... heart. After a few weeks of this impersonal sexuality-our conversation being limited to "Would you like coffee?-Yes, thanks."-I suddenly felt a desire to become better acquainted with this little dish. I had never gone to bed with a redhead, strangely enough, and what better reason did I need to pursue my ambitions?
First, I asked her to join me for coffee in my office. Said I didn't enjoy having it alone. She agreed readily and after a week of these coffee klatches-during which I learned that she was dating a boy named Gino who only had one thing on his mind, according to her. As it turned out, he had the same thing on his mind concerning her as I did, I soon found out after she began innocently confessing her problems to me-an older man of twenty-four. At first I was flattered that she had chosen me to be her confessor-I knew she was impressed because I was the boss's son-in-law. And also, I figured, she knew I was married and therefore safe. It must have been that, because she never gave the single wolves in my department a tumble. Half the time I wasn't even listening to her-just wondering what it would be like to get under those clothes of hers-the short short skirt and tight-ribbed sweaters she was fond of wearing.
Soon after, I began taking her out to lunch-on the pretext that it would give us more of a chance to discuss her personal problems. Her innocence amazed me and I just couldn't get over the fact that she trusted me so implicitly. She put her life in my hands-or her body, to be more literal-by asking my advice on such subjects as how far she should let her boyfriend go with her.
I thought judiciously for a long moment and finally asked, "Well, that all depends. How old are you, Patty, if you don't mind my asking your age."
She giggled and pretended to hesitate for a moment. Finally, she took a deep breath, causing her breasts to swell provocatively, and stage-whispered, "Eighteen. Do you think I'm letting the world pass me by?"
I grinned back at her, trying to keep my eyes from roaming to her perky breasts. "I wouldn't put it that way, exactly," I said, suddenly feeling a tremendous compassion for her boyfriend. "But you are old enough not to know better."
"Why, whatever do you mean, Mr. Gennaro?" she asked, opening her innocent brown eyes as wide as they would go. Something about her tone of voice and the way she let her gaze linger on my lips suddenly shook me up, and I began to suspect I had been duped. Why this kid was no more innocent than I was! I was about to say something blunt, but when I looked back at her again, her face had resumed its expressionless guise and I began to feel guilty about my previous thoughts.
Confused, I picked up my fork and resumed eating, hoping we could drop the discussion for the day. When I looked up again she was staring at me with a bewildered expression. "Well?" she asked.
"Well, what?" I asked stupidly, absently torturing my desert with a fork.
"Do you think I should go to bed with Gino?" she asked impatiently.
"If you want to," I mumbled, taking a gulp of coffee and choking on my words.
She put down her coffee cup and brought her face very close to mine-so close that I could smell the musky scent of the perfume she was wearing. Awfully sophisticated for an eighteen-year-old, I thought. Strange that I had never noticed it before. "Well, I do, in a way," she confided. "I'll probably end up marrying him and I would like to know if he's any good in bed or not, but..."
I pulled my eyes away from her full red lips and swallowed deeply. "But what?" I asked hoarsely, suddenly sorry I hadn't decided to drink my lunch.
She dropped her gaze shyly and moistened her lips with her tongue before answering. "Well, Mr. Gennaro," she said finally, "I think it would be better if I had someone to-well, to compare Gino with. An older man, perhaps. An experienced lover. Don't you agree?"
Well, here was my cue and I wasn't about to slip up on it. "That's an excellent idea," I approved eagerly. "Very few young girls have the good sense to shop around before settling down to marriage. Causes an awful lot of heartache, believe me," I said seriously.
She smiled secretively, I thought, and quickly changed the subject. My mind wasn't on what she was chattering about-in fact, I scarcely heard her. I was too busy making plans.
I avoided Patty for almost two weeks, thanking her curtly when she brought me coffee, and that was it. I tried to ignore the hurt look in her eyes, knowing that her suffering-and my own-would soon be over. When she came to my office, nearly in tears late one afternoon, and asked brokenly why I was angry at her, I sprung my trap.
"Well, if you must know," I said importantly, sitting down behind my big, impressive desk. "If you must know, I was doing it-ignoring you, I mean,-for your own good. And for my own, I might add." I fiddled around with some papers on my desk, waiting for her reaction.
She surprised me, I must admit. Instead of playing it coy, she said bluntly, after taking a deep breath, "I think I know what you, you mean, Mr. Gennaro-Glenn."
She stood up and came around to the front of my desk until she was standing directly behind me. When she draped her arms around my neck, bending down so that her cheek was touching mine, I tensed, feeling my command of the situation drifting away. When her lips touched the back of my neck, a shudder which I could not control ran through my body.
"You understand what I'm referring to?" I gulped, clenching my fists in my lap. "You're only a kid, I mean and I don't want to be responsible for messing up your life. Do you understand, Patty?"
She brushed her lips gently over my ear and blew into it. "I think I do," she murmured. "You mean you want to be the first one to make love to me, don't you? Well, that's all right with me, Glenn. I mean you don't have to be afraid of shocking me or anything like that. Goodness, I was attracted to you the moment I saw you, but I never thought you'd look twice at a naive kid like me. You can't imagine how thrilled I'd be if you showed me how to be a woman."
"You don't know what you're saying," I protested hoarsely. "I-I'm a married man. Much as I'd like to, I have no right to touch you..."
She came around and sat down in my lap, very naturally, as though it were something she did every day. Automatically, I put my arms about her slender waist and waited for what I knew would be her very next move. I met her lips halfway and immediately a ripple of desire went through my body. I expected some resistance when my tongue pressed for entrance into her mouth, but she was more than willing and her tongue greeted mine almost immediately. Gasping, I broke away, afraid that I was going to take her then and there. Surely I was more suave than that, I silently chided myself, feeling her hand slide suddenly beneath my shirt and begin to caress my bare chest.
"Patty," I gasped, "you don't know what you're doing. Go home and think about it. If you still feel the same way tomorrow, well..."
"Tomorrow may never come," she flipped, flicking her small pink tongue over my lips. "What's wrong with today?" With that she proceeded to rapidly slip her sweater up over her mane of red hair, leaving her brassiere-clad breasts exposed close to my face. She tossed her sweater casually on the floor and began working on the snaps of her pink brassiere. I started to protest feebly but she silenced me with her lips. Before I knew what was happening, she was guiding me over to the blue sofa in my office that was reserved for very important people. It occurred to me, in the midst of my passion, that the door to my office wasn't locked. Two minutes, later, as Patty unbuckled my belt, it no longer mattered to me...
Two months later, when Patty came to me and told me she needed five hundred dollars for an abortion, I wasn't really surprised. I had already surmised by her lovemaking that she was no amateur, and I was also quite sure that the baby was not mine. However, when she delicately mentioned that my father-in-law might not approve if he learned of our relationship, I agreed to get the money for her, if she'd promise to quit the job and never attempt to extort money from me again. She did, and I got the money and gave it to her-in cash. Hell-what was one more forged check? I shrugged it off.
To forget the damned fool I had made of myself with this pint-sized con artist, I took to going to bars after work. Somehow I just didn't feel up to going home without at least four shots of scotch in me and Brenda soon began to tolerate my strange habits. After all, she told me once, as long as I wasn't too drunk too satisfy her in bed she didn't care what time of the night I came home.
Yes, I had everything a man could want, and still I wasn't satisfied. Something deep inside me kept nagging me that I had sold out-that I had lost something very dear to me without really being aware of it.
CHAPTER SIX
BRETT
Oh, I was aware of it at the time it was all happening. I knew that I was being a fool and didn't really have to give Kurt, the maintenance man who had become my lover, the hush money he asked for. Nor did I have to go along with his increasingly impertinent demands in bed. Nevertheless, I submitted to all of his demands without more than a token protest. I realize now that it was just my way of punishing myself for having allowed myself to stoop so low in the first place. I let him have all the money I had in my savings account-which amounted to nearly four hundred dollars and when he realized that he couldn't get another penny out of me, he took his pound of flesh from my body. Then, finally, one day something happened that snapped me out of my perverse lethargy. After coming up and making certain that I was alone in the house, Kurt left and returned momentarily with a friend-a coarse, burly man whom Kurt referred to as his buddy. "I want you to be nice to my buddy," he had said.
Suddenly I felt I couldn't take any more and though I fought and bit and kicked, Kurt held me down while his buddy took his pleasure with me. He seemed to be insatiable and by the time he had decided he'd had enough, I was only half-conscious. Kurt was about to take his turn when he glanced at my face and realized I was in a bad way, that I had ceased to struggle and was lying there like a rag doll. He hesitated and seemed to panic. "Let's beat it," he said to his pal. "The chick seems to be in bad shape-let's not overdo it today." Then, miraculously, they were gone. I don't know how long I lay there like that, but I do know that when my strength returned my sense of self-preservation returned with it.
The next time he came to my door, I slammed it in his face. He rang again and threatened again to tell my parents. I calmly informed him that I had already done so myself and prayed that he couldn't see my shaking hands. He started to call my bluff and informed me that he'd like to speak to my parents and find out for himself. I informed him that wouldn't be a very good idea since my father had vowed to string him up personally if he ever set eyes on him. Kurt paled, to my delight, then shrugged rather bravely, I thought, and grinned, "Well, it was fun while it lasted, kiddo, wasn't it?"
That was the last I ever saw of him. Apparently, he asked for a transfer to another building, or quit. At any rate, that was the end of him as far as I was concerned. I got off easily, I guess-considering the dangerous chance I had taken by becoming involved with a complete stranger like that. But it was a constructive experience in that it made me grow up. It made me see that I couldn't just indulge my sexual desires with any attractive man who came along. Neither could I learn to forget Glenn by adopting a policy of random sex. Sure, my body and ego were satisfied-I was a woman, other men wanted me ... but was that enough? From now on, I vowed, I would control my desires until the right man came along.
Somehow, after that incident, however, I felt very uncomfortable living in my parents' home. I felt-soiled. And I knew that the only way to get any peace-to rid myself of guilt and make a private peace with myself-I would have to get my own apartment. It wasn't easy convincing my parents, but they had sensed my despair the past few months and didn't have the heart to oppose my wishes. They even helped me find a not too expensive studio apartment on which they would pay the rent for one year. At the end of that time, I was on my own. Either I would return home or I would be forced to quit college in my senior year and get a job. As it turned out, it didn't work out that way at all. The following semester, I switched to night school and got a job during the day as a receptionist for a brokerage firm. While the job wasn't especially challenging, I took it because I knew I would be able to sneak in some studying.
One of the senior partners of the firm, Mr. Richmond, was a gruff, gray-haired old man who for some reason took a fatherly interest in me. He made sure I was never overloaded with work and kept an eagle eye out for any of the younger men who might hover around my desk, making verbal and visual passes. "Watch out for those young wolves," he warned me once. "They're up to no good."
"Thanks for the warning," I had laughed, "but I can handle them all right. In fact it brightens up my day."
The old man scowled and grumbled, "Don't be too flip, young lady. If a decent, pretty kid like you gets into the wrong hands..." His voice trailed off, implying a fate worse than death and despite my ironic amusement, I was deeply touched by his concern. He needn't have worried, however, because I had no intentions of getting involved with anyone. I had been in the wrong hands so many rimes that I was beginning to feel like a pawnshop item.
No, my heart was definitely going to remain in deep freeze, I silently affirmed. I had gone through such hell in the past year that I felt-perversely, perhaps-pure and martyred. In fact, for the first half of the summer, I even took to wearing white practically every day, until one of the fellows shamed me out of it by asking me if I were a frustrated nurse or Good Humor man. "I'm not a frustrated anything," I had flipped defensively, ignoring the leer on his face. "I'll just bet you're not," he had replied licking his lips. "I'll just bet you're not." Blushing furiously, I looked away and then began busying myself with some papers on my desk until he took the hint and walked away.
like hell I wasn't, I thought frankly to myself, as I nervously lit a filter-tipped cigarette. This was the first time in a long while that I had even thought about being with a man again, having him make love to me. I stubbed my cigarette out, angry with myself and my weakness. Oh, I knew that my weakness wasn't really a desire for sex-that would have been far easier to cope with. But no, instead I had this desperate longing to be wanted, to be loved. That need had fouled me up twice before-I was mature enough to realize that now. Inanely, I lit another cigarette and knew that my thoughts were headed in a dangerous direction and if I were smart I would change the subject. Oh, what the hell-if you couldn't be honest when you were talking to yourself, when could you be honest, I thought. With this rationalization in mind, I permitted my mind to roam freely, for the first time in ages-to Glenn. No, I hadn't gotten him out of my system, after all. Amazing, isn't it, how you never forget your first love? Even if he was a gold-digger and a coward, I thought bitterly. Women are fragile that way, I guess. You do something to them at certain times and literally nothing can ever change what you've done.
No matter what Glenn had turned into since I'd last seen him, I'd always remember him the way he had been with me-tender, exciting, unphony. The only thing that could possibly tarnish this memory, I knew, was if he one day proved to me that he was being untrue to himself. I fervently prayed that day would come, so that I could remove the grasp he had upon my heart...
One day, in late August, Mr. Richmond buzzed and called me into his office. Quickly, I stuffed the French text book I had been pouring over into the bottom door of my desk, stubbed out my cigarette, and obediently trotted to his office. I paused outside the closed door, remembering suddenly that I had seen a visitor enter not more than ten minutes before. I had been too engrossed in my studying to pay close attention, but I had remembered being a bit annoyed that he had simply charged into Mr. Richmond's office without stopping at my desk.
I knocked hesitantly at first. Mr. Richmond didn't respond but I could hear him laughing at something the other man had just said. I knocked again, louder this time, and a moment later Mr. Richmond called, "Come on in, Brett," laughter still in his voice.
I turned the knob and opened the door to the luxurious wood-paneled office.
"Come in, come in, don't stand there like a bump on a log," Mr. Richmond said gruffly, as I stood in the doorway, my eyes glued to the young man seated atop Mr. Richmond's desk.
Obediently, I shut the door behind me and stood ill at ease, waiting for some clue as to why I had been summoned, but no one said anything. The two men simply stared at me; Mr. Richmond, proudly, I thought and the younger man with approval. Self-consciously, I shifted my stance. When Mr. Richmond poked the other man and said proudly, "Well, what did I tell you?" I had the uncomfortable feeling of being on display.
"You wanted something, Mr. Richmond?" I hinted, slightly irritated.
"Yes, Brett," he boomed, motioning for me to come further into the room. "I wanted to introduce you to my son, Lawrence." His hand rested on the other man's shoulder proudly, possessively. "Larry just got out of the Air Force and he's coming to work for me next week."
Oh, so that explained it, I thought, relieved. I shook hands politely with Lawrence Richmond as his father introduced us, and, suddenly a lot of things were becoming clear to me; Mr. Richmond's desire to keep me away from the other young men in his firm, for one thing. I stifled a smile, amazed at the thought that the old man would have matchmaking tendencies. Which only proved to me, I thought ruefully, what a really lousy judge of character I was. "Welcome home," I murmured with a smile, looking into the kindest pair of brown eyes I had ever seen.
His hand tightened around mine and he smiled back. "Thanks," he drawled-rather sexily, I thought-"If I had known you'd be waiting when I got home, the past three years would have gone by a lot quicker."
I grinned back at him, pleased, and also amused at myself that a male compliment was still able to turn my head. "Please let me have my hand back," I teased. "We wouldn't want to shock your father, now, would we?"
Larry chuckled and dropped my hand, and Mr. Richmond drew himself up indignantly. "Are you insinuating that I'm a prudish, narrow-minded old man?"
"Why, certainly not, sir," I answered demurely, biting hard on my lower lip to keep from laughing aloud. "But you have been-well, kind of protective toward me when some of the other brokers were around."
"Oh-that," the old man muttered, obviously embarrassed. "Well, it's just that I could tell that you're obviously a fresh young thing, and knowing these wise guys the way I do, you probably couldn't handle them."
I was almost prepared to accept his explanation at face value when I suddenly realized that Larry's eyes were glued to my breasts which jutted out beneath my pink shift.
Suddenly I felt mischievous. "And your son," I murmured. "What about your son?"
The old man looked startled. "Larry? Why, what about him?"
"Is it safe for me to talk to him?" I pressed, my eyes boring directly into Larry's as I spoke, aware of the way he was responding to my presence.
The old man wheezed. "I'll have you know, young lady, that my son was brought up to be a proper gentleman. Are you daring to question my family's reputation?"
"No, sir," I replied, knowing the old gentleman was only covering up for the fact that he knew I had just seen through him and his paternal watchfulness these past few months.
"That's better," he growled, dismissing me with a wave of his hands. "All right, get back to work-can't spend all day socializing."
"Yes, sir," I replied, with a conspiratorial grin at his son before I left.
An hour later, Larry Richmond left his father's office and stopped, as I knew he would, at my desk. "What are you doing about dinner tonight?" he asked casually, his brown eyes twinkling.
"Skipping it," I replied quickly. "I've got a French final this evening and I'm going to use every spare moment I can find to study."
"Oh." He did not try to hide his disappointment. "Well, what about tomorrow?"
"What about it?" I asked, determined to make things difficult for him. Somehow, lately, I never seemed to mind being rude to men. They had certainly given me a rough enough time, I justified myself.
"Well, would you care to have dinner with me and go to this party I've been invited to?" he persisted.
"But tomorrow's Saturday," I reminded him, thinking to myself that perhaps a party might do me some good.
"Thanks, but I didn't ask you for the date-I simply asked you for a date," he replied with a tinge of impatience in his voice.
"Yes-yes, I'm aware of that," I said, a bit flustered now. "It's just that it's unusual to have a blind date on a Saturday night."
"Is it?" he countered, looking at me strangely now. "I wouldn't know-it's been a long time since I've gone on one. Besides, we've already seen each other and as for me-I like what I see. So, how about it?"
I thought for a moment, about the pros and cons about going out with the boss's son. On the one hand, it never hurt to have contacts in high places and there were worse things in life than a charming and wealthy husband, if it ever came to that. On the other hand, though, what if we didn't hit it off? It would certainly be awkward seeing one another every day...
"Why the long hesitation?" he prodded. "Do you have a husband and ten kids hidden away someplace that my father doesn't know about?"
I had to laugh. "All right, you've talked me into it. Let me write down my address for you."
"Thanks, but I already have it," he grinned. "I'll pick you up around seven. Oh, and good luck on your French final."
"Thanks," I murmured, pleased that he had remembered. "And I'm sorry I gave you such a rough time," I added sheepishly.
He brushed it off casually. "Forget it. I'm persistent and would have tortured you until you finally broke down, anyhow."
"Because I'm the first girl you've seen in three years?" I teased.
"No, because you're the loveliest," he replied gallantly, flashing me a grin over his shoulder as he got into the elevator.
I watched until the doors closed behind him, staring dreamily and lost in thought, my French forgotten. Suddenly I felt very good-young and carefree and respectable. It had been a long-time since I had felt that way.
And he wasn't especially handsome, I mused. Nor did he seem the bastard type I was always so irresistibly drawn to. But I could manage to overlook these shortcomings, I thought giddily, because he had something else that was more important to me at this time in my life.
He had the knack of making me feel like a human being again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
GLENN
I should have realized my dear wife would be awake when I got home last night-or rather, early this morning. If only she could learn to be sophisticated about it like some of the wives of my drinking buddies. But she wasn't and here I was in the doghouse again.
She hadn't said anything to me, of course-she never did. She preferred to do her brooding silently. The only hint I had of her suppressed fury was the thin-lipped, martyred expression on her face as she served me breakfast. And, oh yes, also the two slices of deliberately burnt toast.
"Thanks," I said meekly as she placed my coffee and a platter of bacon and eggs before me. Did I say "placed?" Flung would be a more appropriate word.
She gave me a stony stare and then returned to the kitchen counter to pick up her own breakfast.
As she passed near me on her way back to the table, I playfully slapped her buttocks. "Pretty grouchy this morning, aren't you?" I tried bravely. "You're going to have to cut out these late hours you've been keeping."
She gave me a withering look and drew her housecoat protectively about her body. That nearly gave me a laugh-I knew that all I would have to do was blow passionately into her ear and the housecoat would be lying on the kitchen floor-and her nightgown beside it.
She ate her breakfast in silence and despite my teasing she would not respond. "Man, you sure are a cheerful sight first thing in the morning," I complained, grimacing as I bit into a slice of burnt toast. "There are lesser grounds for divorce, you know."
When she slammed down her cup of coffee so that half of its contents went splattering into the air, I realized I had gone a bit too far this time.
Her brown eyes, so ordinary usually, were magnificent when she was angry. And right now they blazed with sparks of fury. And when she jerked her body suddenly to avoid being hit by flying coffee, the top of her housecoat separated, exposing part of a snowy white breast. In fact, she looked so damn appealing at that particular moment that I could have made love to her then and there. The trouble was, for the first time since we'd been married, I had a feeling she wouldn't be particularly willing.
"All right, where were you last night?" she demanded, trying to control herself. But although she said it quietly I was aware of the tension that was on the verge of erupting.
I took a long sip of coffee to stall for time. "You know I went to the racetrack," I said finally.
"Till two-thirty this morning?" she asked bitterly.
I looked at her for a long time before answering. This was something new-she had never questioned my whereabouts before and I resented the fact that she was doing so now. She ought to be glad I came home to her at all I thought bitterly. She certainly was no bargain. Oh well, I thought, suddenly generous, maybe I was being a little rough on the girl-after all she hadn't done anything to hurt me. Not really. Unless you consider a shotgun wedding something less than ethical. Although I couldn't really complain, I guess. Things had worked out rather well for me; I had a good job, a desirable wife, my freedom whenever I wanted it, and-when Brenda's old man died-a fortune. I certainly wasn't going to throw all of that away just because of a little wifely probing. No woman was worth throwing a fortune away for, I considered logically, dismissing any thoughts of telling her off and threatening a divorce.
"Surely it can't be taking you this long to think up a good lie," she said tightly, interrupting my thoughts.
"I wouldn't lie to you, Brenda," I said, realizing as I uttered the words that they were true. "I wouldn't bother."
She went pale and caught her breath sharply. "What did you just say?" she asked, astonished.
"You heard me," I replied shortly, realizing suddenly that if I didn't take a stand now I would never take one. "I lost at the track and then I decided to hit a few bars with a couple of the fellows to ease the pain a bit. That's all."
"You weren't with a woman?" she asked suspiciously.
I had to laugh at that. "A woman!" I exclaimed. "Sweetheart, after the exercise you give me, do you honestly believe I have-time-for another woman?"
She refused to be embarrassed however and repeated stiffly, "Were you with another woman, Glenn?"
Suddenly I felt like slapping her. What right had she to complain? She had bought me and she was being paid in full. "No!" I shouted angrily, slamming my fork down on the table. "Last night I was simply out drinking with the guys. Perhaps you're thinking of two nights ago. That's when I was with a woman!"
She paled then and I should have had enough sense to stop but some inner fury kept driving me on. Suddenly I wanted to hurt her.
"She was a voluptuous blonde," I goaded her on, "not too bright, but in the dark she's absolutely terrific. This gal knows tricks that haven't even been invented yet-"
"Shut up, shut up!" Brenda screamed, rising from her seat. "You're disgusting, absolutely disgusting. I won't sit here and listen to any more of this."
I smiled benignly. I had won. "But, Brenda darling," I protested mercilessly, "you asked me and I told you. I can't see why you're getting so hysterical." I sipped the remainder of my coffee and then when the cup was empty, asked, "May I have another cup of coffee, darling?"
We stared at each other for a long while and then Brenda shrugged her shoulders wearily and walked towards the stove. She poured another cup of coffee for me and half a cup for herself and then slumped down in the seat opposite me.
"Aren't I enough for you?" she asked finally, tears coming into her eyes.
"Ye-es, in one way," I conceded, moved by her tears. "But in another ... well, I feel I have to prove something to myself."
She made no attempt to hide the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. "It's because I made you marry me," she sobbed. "I knew I'd be punished for it eventually. I suppose I deserve you, but for some dumb reason I didn't know you'd let your true colors show so soon. Why, we haven't even been married two years..."
"Brenda, baby," I soothed, "don't take it so much to heart. You got what you wanted and I got what I wanted, give or take a little. If you're not completely satisfied there's a money back guarantee," I flipped, knowing that I was on safe territory.
"You mean-divorce?" she asked bluntly, and for some reason, the word sent shudders down my spine.
"Di-divorce?" I stammered. "Oh, I wouldn't put it quite that way."
"Well, I'm afraid I would," she countered, suddenly sure of her ground again. "Suddenly, Glenn, I don't want you as desperately as I thought I did. Oh, don't get me wrong-you're still great in bed," she added hurriedly at my stricken look, "but so, I'm sure, are hundreds of other men. There's really no reason, you know, why I should put up with your behavior."
I couldn't believe my ears. Suddenly my leech of a wife was expressing her independence-threatening divorce, in fact-and her seeming indifference toward me hit where it really hurts, if you know what I mean. "Now, wait a minute," I said quickly. "Surely you can't be serious."
She looked at me quizzically, apparently trying to figure out why I was so appalled at the mere mention of a divorce. "You surprise me," she said, smiling wryly. "I thought you'd jump at the chance to get away from me-from this marriage of convenience! Or is it the possibility of alimony that's worrying you? You needn't worry yourself about that-I wouldn't ask for any."
By the time she had finished reciting her little speech, I was staring at her in genuine, open-mouthed amazement. She couldn't talk to me like that-who did she think she was, anyway? Suddenly, I felt very self-righteous-and frightened. What would happen to my job if Brenda divorced me? Surely her father wouldn't bother to keep me on the payroll ... and where would I ever get into such a comfortable, well-paying job again. Not to mention my luxury apartment-which was in Brenda's name-and new convertible sports car. I had gotten used to the easy life the past couple of years and I didn't have the slightest desire to give it up now. I had spent a miserable, lower middle class childhood in Brooklyn and hadn't known what it was like to live like a real human being until my old man died and my mother took his insurance money and got us a pretty nice apartment in Manhattan when I was about fourteen. She made sure I was enrolled in one of the best private high schools in Manhattan, giving me a chance to meet and socialize with the "upper crust" as she liked to call it. She was determined that I would have nothing but the very best, and I had no objections. Since I had been a little kid, she had been drumming it into my head that I deserved the best that life had to offer and that Fate had dealt me a low blow from which I would one day re-over. I used to take all of this kind of talk in and manfully fight tears of self-pity. Hell, by the time I was twelve, I was beginning to feel like a displaced prince! I began cultivating friends-guys like Bill Carlisle-and when we got too old to play baseball, I began taking out their sisters. I took it for granted that one day, after I had graduated from college and made my mark in the world, I would return and probably marry one of these girls. Which one didn't really matter-they were all pretty much alike. Except for little Brett Carlisle, who for some reason had stood out from the rest. Yeah, we could have hit it off pretty good, me and Brett, I mused ... except that due to a little quirk of fate named Brenda, here I was, caged at the age of twenty-four! But it was a gilded cage, I reminded myself hastily, and even though Brenda was practically handing me the key, I knew that it was too late for me to get out now. So I managed to put a hurt look on my face and say accusingly to my wife.
"I'm afraid your sense of humor doesn't appeal to me this morning, Brenda. You know damn well the reason I won't let you divorce me."
"You're afraid my father will fire you?" she murmured disdainfully, hitting the nail right on the head.
Stung, I stared into my muddy-looking coffee. "That wasn't quite what I had in mind," I muttered.
"Well, then, suppose you tell me your little secret," she mocked bitterly. "If it interests me enough, perhaps I'll reconsider."
Here was my chance to make amends and I had better make it a good one, I figured. Looking up into her eyes I gave her the full benefit of my soulful gaze and took both of her hands in mine. "All right, Brenda," I said hoarsely, "I have no more pride. Divorce me if you want to, but first there's something I've been wanting to tell you for a long, long, time." I stopped brokenly, dramatically.
She stated at me suspiciously at first, then curiously. "What is it," she said finally.
I breathed a little easier. At least she hadn't told me to drop dead. "I love you," I said simply.
She uttered a quick, nervous laugh, then checked herself at my serious, forlorn expression. "Why, I do believe you're serious," she said, astonished.
I forced a bitter smile to my lips. "I would have mentioned it before," I offered, "but I didn't really think you'd be interested."
"Why, whatever do you mean?" she asked, truly astonished.
"Well, I thought I was just an expensive commodity to you, something to entertain you-like a television set or a radio," I said rapidly, not even acting at this point. "Only my function was to entertain you at night-in bed," I finished flatly, sheepishly.
Her face softened and her fingers tightened around mine. "Why, darling, I had no idea you felt like that," she said regretfully. "Why didn't you mention it before this?"
I flashed my most charming grin at her and sighed silently with relief. "Can't you just imagine a television set coming up to you and saying, 'I love you, Brenda darling?'"
Her mouth twitched suddenly and I thought she was going to burst out laughing at the ridiculous image I had provoked. Instead, to my amazement, she suddenly burst into tears. I let her weep for a while, too shocked to do anything, but get up and gather her in my arms. Gradually, her sobs lessened and I pressed my lips against her soft brown hair and murmured, "Darling, darling, what is it?"
Then she looked up at me through tear-filled eyes and ran her hand playfully through my hair. "You're an idiot," she finally murmured brokenly, a small smile on her pale lips. Then, to my great astonishment, she kissed me warmly on the mouth. I blinked incredulously at her swift change in mood-I would never understand women. I was resigned to that-and kissed her back hotly, my tongue suddenly darting into her mouth and luxuriating in the warm, moist cavern. When we finally broke apart, I was wanting her more than I had ever wanted her before.
I took her by the hand and began to lead her to the bedroom.
"No," she protested mildly, implanting her feet firmly on the floor.
I looked at her quizzically. You've got to be kidding, I thought. "No?" I repeated. "You mean, you don't want to make love?"
She hesitated for a moment, closing her eyes as my hand found its way inside her nightgown. "No-no, it's not that," she stammered. "But Glenn, darling, haven't you noticed. This is the way all our arguments seem to end. Do you think that's wise?"
"I don't know how wise it is," I shrugged, "but it sure is enjoyable."
She giggled then and she sounded like a little girl. Suddenly, I felt warm all over and very loving toward her. Scooping her up in my arms, I proceeded to carry her into the bedroom, overriding her protests by clamping my mouth down upon hers.
By the time I dropped her onto the mattress, she was completely at my mercy. I had managed to discard her housecoat and nightgown somewhere along the way, and now her squirming flesh was fair game for my eager hands and mouth and tongue...
Later, much later, she snuggled up to me, her naked body pleasantly touching mine. "Mmmmm," she murmured happily, "we should really make love more often in the morning. It's sooo sexy."
I grunted affirmatively.
"You don't sound too enthusiastic," she giggled, stroking my body expertly.
I caught my breath sharply as she hit home. "Baby," I murmured, reaching for her again, "you ain't seen nothin' yet!"
"Darling," she said, much, much later, "about that divorce..."
"What-what about it?" I gulped nervously. "Forget it," she grinned sweetly, running her tongue over my lips. "Just forget it."
Much later in the afternoon, Brenda came into the den where I was reading the newspaper. "What would you like me to wear tonight, darling," she asked, holding up two dresses.
"Tonight?" I repeated stupidly. "What's tonight?"
She laughed and came over to me, dropping herself into my lap in an aura of new-found security of this afternoon. "You're impossible sometimes," she admonished, playfully tweaking my nose. "You know we're invited to the party the Skylars are giving. Daddy said it would be a good idea if we went. He can do a lot to further your career, you know."
That was all I had to hear. "Why don't you wear your red one?" I suggested enthusiastically.
She hesitated. "But, darling, don't you think that's a bit daring?"
"Yeah, maybe it is," I grinned, conjuring up an image of the low-cut red sheath. "In fact, I dare you to wear it. You know how excited I get when I see you in that thing."
"Okay, you asked for it," she replied, teasingly running her tongue over my lips. "But don't say I didn't warn you."
"Meaning what?" I demanded, catching her tongue between my lips.
She managed to free herself and scamper free of me. When she was safely halfway across the room she ripped the silken robe from her body, permitted it to slide to the floor at her feet, leaving her completely naked.
"Meaning-" she paused briefly, allowing her nudity to make a deep impression on me, "that some other man at the party might find me as attractive in my red dress as you do."
"Probably," I agreed confidently. "But I can touch and he can only look."
"Don't be too sure of that, my darling," she murmured with a tinkling little laugh, the laugh of a woman confident of her desirability.
My breath seemed to quicken as Brenda turned and walked slowly out of the den, the vision of her plump buttocks remaining in my mind, and the meaning of what she had just said. Somehow the idea of another man making love to my wife excited me. Maybe I was turning into some sort of a pervert, I thought, grimly amused. Nevertheless, I stood up and followed her into the bedroom, where I knew she'd be waiting for me with open arms, atop the silk sheets of our king-size bed...
The party was as tedious as I thought it would be, but I was still feeling pretty chipper and satiated from my round-the-clock lovemaking and aided matters a bit by quickly downing two scotch and sodas as soon as we arrived. I held the third one in my hand for good measure. As it turned out, I needed it...
Soon after we got there, Brenda got spirited away by her father, under the pretext of introducing her to an old friend of his, someone he had known for five years. I accepted the snub graciously, knowing that I should have been included but not really caring. I felt grateful that I had been spared the necessity of being polite to another old boor.
I occupied myself with drinking scotch and making myself agreeable to the least unattractive women there.
About an hour and a half later, I stifled a yawn and began looking around for Brenda, hoping to persuade her to leave. If worse came to worse, and she expressed a desire to stay longer, I would simply have to let my hand wander to one of the more intimate parts of her body and inform her that I wanted her madly, urgently.
I glanced over to where she was standing, and blinked in surprise. Instead of being conscientiously polite to some rich old boor-and I knew her well enough by this time to tell-she actually seemed engrossed in the conversation she was having with some aging Lothario. I took a deep swallow of my drink and looked again, more closely this time. Was it possible? Or was it just my drunken imagination? The nearly iron-gray-haired gentlemenwho resembled an old Southern colonel-was actually rubbing his fingers against the bared bosom-flesh of my wife! I blinked, incredulously. My eyes were playing tricks on me, of course. Brenda would never allow such familiarity. Nevertheless, I inched closer, on the pretext of refilling my glass. When I had gathered enough courage to look again, I nearly keeled over in astonishment. Brenda's hand had covered her companion's and was actually guiding it to the exposed flesh on her bosom. Then they both threw back their heads and laughed in genuine amusement, as if they had just shared a priceless joke.
Bewildered and shocked, I finished off the remainder of my drink and unswervingly headed for the bar for a refill. I stood by, impatiently, as the bartender mixed me a fresh drink. Man, I thought to myself, take it easy! Brenda's just being friendly for your sake. The next thing you're going to imagine is that you're actually seeing ghosts.
I accepted the glass that the bartender was holding out to me and was about to put it to my lips, when-for no reason at all-I happened to glance toward the door.
I couldn't stifle the gasp of astonishment that came to my lips as I saw the door open and the new arrivals enter. First came a tall, slim, rather homely young man-he looked like an intellectual young playwright, judging from his lean and hungry look and obviously old brown tweed sport jacket. I discarded him subconsciously, quickly, as a type, but ... following him in was an excitingly beautiful blonde who glanced about her shyly and held on to her escort's hand as if for protection...
My knees grew weak and I had to shut my eyes for a moment to close out the dizzy sensation that had suddenly overtaken me. Vaguely I warned myself not to take another drink.
I opened my eyes again, slowly, and suddenly poured the remainder of the potent liquid from my glass into my throat. When I opened my eyes again, I verified my previous observation.
The girl was Brett!
CHAPTER EIGHT
BRETT
The party was ... well, just about what I had expected. Except for the fact that Glenn was there. When Larry began introducing me to people, I was sure I wouldn't remember one single name five minutes later. But when he brought me around to meet Glenn, who was standing by the bar and staring at me as if he had seen a ghost, I was suddenly very glad I had allowed Larry to coerce me into coming. In fact, I could almost have kissed him for it!
I had envisioned meeting Glenn again so often in my daydreams that it seemed rather natural to find him standing beside me. But for some reason, I couldn't utter a word of greeting as Larry introduced us.
Apparently, Glenn was having the same trouble. He just kept staring at me as if he just couldn't believe his eyes, and finally I began to feel uncomfortable under his intense gaze. Finally, he extended his hand and muttered, "How-how've you been, Brett?" not even looking me straight in the eye.
"Fine-just fine," I managed to murmur.
We would have stood there like two mentally retarded goof-balls, each lost in our own thoughts, if Larry hadn't brought us back to reality. "Hey, you two know each other from someplace?" he grinned enthusiastically.
"Sort of," I replied vaguely, noting that Glenn was still tongue-tied. His inhibitedness amused me as I recalled how outspoken and extroverted he had been two years before. How like a wild, free bird he had been, my Glenn. ... Perhaps it sounds strange, calling him that, but even though we didn't share more than a couple of months together, I still thought of him as "my Glenn."
I brought myself back to the present and forced a smile, realizing that Glenn was speaking.
"Brett and I were-were childhood sweethearts," he said teasingly, staring boldly in my eyes, challenging me to deny it.
I met his eyes-the piercing, magnetic gaze that had always managed to stir me up inside. "Yes," I agreed. "Glenn and I were childhood sweethearts."
There was a short pause then, during which the air seemed to fill up with tension. Larry seemed to sense it and looked from me to Glenn and back again. Then he forced a laugh and, slapping Glen on the back, said, "Well, I certainly hope I don't run into any ex-sweethearts tonight. Judging from the bitter looks of you two, puppy love is better off forgotten. Although it beats me," he added, scratching his brown crew cut, "how you could have found anything serious enough to hate each other about at that tender age."
Glenn's eyes met mine, just then, and our senses of humor got the better of us. By the time we stopped laughing, the ice had completely melted and been replaced by a feeling of friendly closeness.
By this time, Larry had the most bewildered expression on his face that I had ever seen and the sight of it started me off again. Vaguely I realized that my laughter was the result of nerves-of the actual shock of seeing
Glenn again-and I knew that if I didn't get hold of myself I was in danger of having hysteria.
"Larry," I choked, "please get me a drink."
He flashed a quizzical look at me and Glenn before asking the person in charge of the bar for my drink. Handing it to me, he muttered, "I think the two of you are wacky. If you don't mind, I'm going to circulate while you two talk about-about old times."
I sensed his annoyance with me and although I couldn't have cared less, I really didn't blame him. I hesitated only momentarily, then called, "Wait, Larry-I'll come with you," but it was too late and he was out of sight.
I turned reluctantly back to Glenn, suddenly frightened and unsure of myself. No doubt his wife was somewhere in this crowded room, I surmised, and felt the beginning of a dull ache welling up inside me. I shut my eyes tightly for a moment, to shut out the sudden painful reality of the thought. Somehow, in my daydreams, there was never any wife around at our reconciliation-there was just Glenn and myself.
Then, he was shaking my arm lightly. "Brett, what's wrong? Are you all right?" he asked anxiously.
I forced myself to open my eyes and look at him. "I'm afraid the drink went to my head-I shouldn't have gulped it down so quickly," I replied.
He grinned with relief-that old, familiar grin-and a fresh pang went through me. This was insane, I thought frantically. This wasn't turning out the way it was supposed to. For the past two years I had imagined this meeting ... I was to be cool, indifferent, and completely over him, and he was to be still in love with me but I wouldn't throw him a crumb. Ha! That was a laugh! Apparently, two years hadn't made me any more sophisticated than I had been at seventeen.
Suddenly, I had a desperate urge to run-I had to get away from him before I gave myself away, before he became aware of the intensity of my emotions. He had hurt me once and I had no intention of giving him a second chance.
I placed my empty glass down on the bar top. and turning to Glen with a polite smile, said coolly, "Well, it's been very nice seeing you again..."
The grin faded from his tanned face-his Southampton tan, no doubt, I thought bitterly-and he opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. Instead, he gave me a long, hard look that caused me to freeze. Was it possible that he had seen through me so quickly? I panicked.
I stood there for a moment longer, uncertainly, then I smiled weakly and turned to go. His firm, sudden grip on my arm stopped me from leaving-just as I knew it would. Funny, how I could always anticipate his every move, I thought, fighting back tears.
He pulled me around so that I was facing him, and I managed to keep my body rigid beneath his touch. Those hands ... how familiar they were, I thought, glancing down at them briefly and remembering how they touched me, the intimate things they had done to me...
I must have swayed slightly then, because suddenly Glenn gripped my arm so tightly that I winced. "Hey," I murmured with .a small smile, "I'll stay and talk to you for a few minutes more, if you like. There's no need to get violent."
But he didn't laugh. Releasing my arm, he muttered, "I'm sorry if I hart you, but..."
"But what?" I asked coolly. "But you don't like anyone walking out on you?"
A faint smile touched his lips. "You haven't changed, have you? Oh, you've changed a bit physically-your hair is shorter than I remember it, your laugh has become a little cynical. . . "
As if on cue, I allowed a snicker to escape my lips. "You're being very flattering, Glenn. Do go on," I sneered.
A look almost like pain came over his face but vanished quickly. He took a deep gulp of his drink then murmured, "Did I do this to you, Brett?"
"You must be kidding," I gasped incredulously. "Well, at least you haven't changed. You're still the same egotistical maniac you always were."
He flinched at that, but only because he knew it was the truth. I didn't care, annoyed and frightened at his quick perception as I was. Suddenly, the only emotion churning in me was revenge. I wanted to hurt him as badly as he had hurt me. Whether I meant it or not.
"Oh, I am sorry, dear," I said quickly. "I keep forgetting you're not used to the 'new me,' I'm afraid I have changed since you knew me, but that's to be expected after two years, isn't it?" I purred. "You know how it is-you just sort of outgrow people, if you know what I mean."
His breath caught sharply at that barb and his eyes narrowed and I half expected him to slap me. But his shoulders slumped and he sighed deeply. "I wish you wouldn't make it so difficult for both of us," he said finally. "I have a feeling you're as happy to see me as I am to see you, so maybe it would just be better if we stopped playing childish games, what do you say?" he grinned pleadingly.
I felt myself softening. "Certainly," I replied hoarsely. "What exactly would you like me to do, Glenn? Fall into your arms and swoon?"
Surprisingly, that struck him funny. "No, you haven't changed after all," he laughed. "You still say whatever comes into your mind. I'm glad," he finished simply.
"I'm glad you're glad," I responded, choking back the lump in my throat. "Now, may I leave?"
"No," he smiled, his hand starting to touch my face and then withdrawing. "I won't let you get away from me now that I've found you again."
I had sensed something in his half-started gesture and I had no intention of losing it again. "Why," I demanded, "did you do that?"
He looked at me in bewilderment. "What...? "
"You started to touch my cheek-to stroke me-when suddenly, you stopped short," I said mercilessly. "Was that because you suddenly remembered that your wife was in the room?"
"Yes," he said abruptly. "Any other questions?"
I stared at him, speechless. Maybe there was more to him than I had suspected. "No," I whispered. "I'm afraid I'm acting like a child."
Then he flashed that triumphant grin of his-as he always did when he had won an easy victory. Suddenly, the grin faded and slowly changed into a wooden smile. Perplexed, I followed his line of vision and felt my heart constrict as I saw her walk, smilingly, toward us. She wore an expensive-looking red dress and her hair was elaborately coiffed. Her face was unextraordinary but pleasant and her figure was passable. Don't ask me how I knew it was her-I just did. Probably it was the sixth sense people suddenly acquire when something or someone dear to them is being threatened.
She approached, stopping beside him and linking an arm through his possessively. She regarded me steadily, only her lips smiling as Glenn introduced us.
"Brenda, I'd like you to meet an old pal of mine. This is Brenda Carlisle-her brother and I used to be buddies," he added quickly.
A tremor of anger went through me as I listened to him so glibly disassociate himself from any past intimacy with me. Although, I chided myself realistically, I couldn't very well expect him to say; "Honey, this is Brett. She and I were lovers before I married you..."
I managed to smile pleasantly, coolly at her, and hoped my face wasn't registering any emotion. I could have been arrested for what I was thinking.
"Are you here alone, Brett?" she was asking familiarly, and I envied her her poise. I also envied her her husband.
"No, I came with Lawrence Richmond," I replied. "He's around someplace-" I gestured vaguely. "I guess I ought to go and join him-I haven't been doing much circulating since I arrived."
"Larry Richmond...? Yes ... why isn't he Thornton Richmond's boy?" Brenda asked curiously.
"Yes," I replied stiffly, wanting to make my getaway.
"But I thought he was still in the army," she gushed.
I sighed and tried to keep the annoyance out of my voice. "He just got out-he's a civilian again," I said lightly, staring at the size of her engagement ring. Surely Glenn couldn't afford a rock like that...
"Have you known Larry long?" she persisted.
I met Glenn's eyes briefly, but he quickly looked away and ran his tongue nervously over his lips. I felt a small satisfaction that he was, at least, as uncomfortable as I.
I took a double gulp of the fresh drink Glenn had just handed me-bless him-tossed my hair back and smiled winningly up at Glenn. Suddenly I felt very reckless.
"Larry?" I asked blankly. "Oh, you mean Lawrence.
No, I haven't known him very long. Since yesterday, to be exact. ... How long have you known him?"
"Why-why, I don't really know him," she stammered. "My father and his have been business associates for a long time-that's how I know of him."
"Oh," I murmured, disappointed that her explanation was such an innocent one. "Well, I really must go join Larry now-he must be furious with me for leaving him alone all evening," I babbled, "And please forgive me for monopolizing your husband, Brenda. But he always was irresistible, you know..."
Glenn uttered a nearly inaudible gasp and flashed me a warning glance which I preferred to ignore.
"It must be tough on you, married to such an attractive guy," I gushed confidentially to Brenda. "I mean, women must be making passes at him constantly. Attractive women," I added viciously.
Brenda's dark eyes narrowed at my insinuation, but she answered coolly. "Oh, yes, that's certainly true," she acknowledged calmly. "But I've accepted the fact that when you possess something of value, there's bound to be envy and-and there have been women who've tried to get him away, but," and she added this so smugly that I could easily have walloped her, "he always comes back to me. So you see, dear, I don't really worry."
I looked away to conceal the hostility that I knew was burning in my eyes. When I had regained my composure I smiled woodenly at her-or perhaps it was a grimace-I met her eyes again, and murmured, low, "It-it must be wonderful to feel so sure of someone. I envy you..."
"Hey," Glenn broke in. "You two have been discussing me as though I weren't even here."
"Why, Glenn," I said coyly, "I didn't know you minded being talked about. In fact, from what I remember, you rather enjoyed it."
His facial muscles tensed and I knew he would have given anything in the world at that moment to be able to slap me. Not that I didn't deserve it, of course, but suddenly I was beyond caring.
"Aw, come on, ladies," he said tightly, trying a grin that didn't quite come off. "I'm a modest guy-shy, home-loving..."
His voice trailed off and Brenda was quick to pick up the thread. "Egotistical, woman-chasing..." she added.
Glenn downed his drink before facing her, his face flushed in embarrassed amazement. "Aw, come on, Brenda," he protested, turning to face her. "You know that isn't true!"
But Brenda only laughed and winked at me conspiratorially. "Methinks thou dost protest too much," she laughed, squeezing his arm. .
He frowned and turned back to the bar for another refill. I met Brenda's eyes again, and despite myself, was forced to smile warmly. All of a sudden I liked her ... Well, if not liked understood her maybe. Understood her and sympathized with what it must be like being married to Glenn.
I downed the remainder of my drink and handed the empty glass to Glenn who, at my request, placed it on the bar top. Suddenly, I no longer had the heart for this cat and mouse game. In spite of everything, I found myself liking Brenda, and thinking that maybe just maybe he hadn't done so badly in selecting a wife.
Suddenly everything fell into place again and I saw myself just as I was-Glenn's ex-girl friend. Oh, yes, I knew I could tempt him into spending a few hours with me, making love to me again ... that would have been so easy. But where would it get me in the long run? I wondered. Brenda was right-he would always return to her. Whether it was because she held the purse strings or not was beside the point-and I refused to let myself be catty enough to dwell on the thought.
I stifled a sigh and accepted the bitter fact. Glenn had chosen his life-and much as I wanted to change it, to be part of it, I wasn't. My only consolation was that he had a wife who understood him-and she would take care of him. And who loved him almost as much as I did...
I was spared the necessity of excusing myself again when Larry came to collect me. "This party's a drag," he informed me, ignoring Glenn and Brenda. "What do you say we cut out?"
I smiled at him gratefully and nodded affirmatively.
"Swell, I'll get your coat," he said with a pleased smile. He left, briefly, and then returned, a moment later with a sheepish grin on his face. "I forgot," he laughed. "You didn't have a coat."
I laughed also. "I don't usually wear one at the end of August," I informed him, putting my arm through his to show there was no malice intended.
He tweaked my nose and scowled at me in mock rage, glancing at Glenn and his wife for approval. "Women should be seen and not heard," he growled.
I looked up into his eyes and shrugged my shoulders meekly. "Yes, sir," I murmured. "I will not utter another sound all evening."
He doubled his fist and aimed a playful blow at my nose. "Come on, let's go," he muttered, grasping my hand. "I haven't gotten a chance to talk to you all evening."
Then he said a polite good-night to Glenn and Brenda, and waited for me to make my adieus.
I extended my hand to Brenda, briefly, and murmured a "nice meeting you." Then I placed my hand in the large one Glenn extended to me and mumbled a casual "good-night." I turned to leave, then, only to find that Glenn hadn't released my hand. I glanced at him sharply and his face was expressionless, but he squeezed my hand tightly.
And I knew what it meant....
CHAPTER NINE
GLENN
I bided my time so that Brenda wouldn't become suspicious, but finally I was unable to resist the urgent desire any longer. I had to see Brett. . .
Only four days had gone by since our chance meeting at the Skylar's party, but I suddenly felt as if I had been away from her for a lifetime. And then I remembered-I had.
Oh, I was aware of how selfish my motives were for wanting to be with her again-after all, what could I possibly offer her at this point? Certainly not any land of a future. The most we could have would be an occasional stolen moment together and I realized that I thought too much of Brett to make her settle for that.
For I realized that she still wanted me ... I saw that in her eyes the other night. There was definitely a spark between us, and it came across loud and clear, much as she tried to fight it. In fact, the more she tried to put a wall between us, the more conscious I became of the fact that she still cared for me. And that wasn't wishful thinking on my part-if I knew anything at all, I knew women. Apparently, she hadn't found herself another real man in the two years we hadn't seen each other....
The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to make it up to her. By the time Wednesday evening came around, I had succeeded in talking myself into believing that resuming our affair would do her a world of good. Apparently, that Larry Richmond character she was seeing wasn't enough to satisfy her. No, I thought importantly, he wasn't for her.
I suddenly felt an intense sense of responsibility. I had been the one to initiate her into the pleasures of love and leaving her high and dry as I did, I couldn't help but feel guilty. Yes, I decided finally, it was up to me to show her that life could be beautiful again. Suddenly, I felt my life had some meaning again-I was Brett's savior.
Wednesday evening, as we were getting ready for bed, I casually suggested to Brenda that I thought I deserved a night out with the guys.
The nightgown she was drawing down over her head muffled her reply.
"I don't know what you just said," I laughed, "but I do think you're making a mistake in putting that nightgown on."
"Why?" she asked, smoothing the flimsy pink material over her hips. "Don't you like it?"
"I like it fine," I replied, stretching myself out comfortably atop the imported-from-Spain bedspread. "Only you're wasting good time putting it on. You know as well as I do that it's only going to be off again in five minutes."
"You don't say," she said, pleased. "Don't you ever get enough?"
"Of you-no," I retorted. "Which is why I think it might be a good idea if you gave me the night off tomorrow. You're going to be the death of me!"
A skeptical smile played on her lips as she lowered herself into my arms, but I quickly and thoroughly kissed it away.
"You know," she murmured, drawing away, "you don't have to use psychology with me. If you want a night off, say so."
She caught me looking at her in amazement and added, "In fact, why don't you make it tomorrow?"
"How come?" I blurted out. "This isn't like you."
"Well, darling," she replied, daintily stifling a yawn, "You've been behaving like such an angel all week that I think you deserve a night out with the boys."
I looked at her suspiciously, knowing that her sudden generosity wasn't that clear-cut. Rather than press the matter, however, I decided to accept her liberality graciously. I was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
I got my explanation the next morning as I was taking especial pains dressing to go to work. And it came straight from the horse's mouth.
I was looking at myself critically in the full-length mirror in our bedroom, determined to look my best when I saw Brett that evening, and unaware that Brenda had been awake and observing me.
As I was running the comb through my hair for the umpteenth time, I heard her giggle. I turned toward the bed in time to see her yawn and murmur drowsily, "My, but you're vain this morning, darling. Wearing your best suit just to go drinking with the boys after work?"
I felt every muscle in my body tense with angry embarrassment and looked away from her, making every effort not to retort and give myself away.
Turning back to the mirror and straightening my tie
-a brand new gift from Brenda that I had never worn before-I said lightly, "Well, you can never tell who you're liable to bump into bar-hopping."
"Mmmmm," Brenda agreed indifferently, turning over on her stomach and seeming ready to go back to sleep again. "Well, have fun, darling."
I looked at her sharply. This was too much...
"Look, hon," I pressed, testing her, "don't wait up for me tonight-I may be pretty late. You know how it is-you go on a drinking spree and lose all track of time."
"Sure, I understand," she said sleepily, lifting herself up on an elbow to blow me a kiss goodbye. "As a matter-of-fact, I'm glad you're going to make it a late night. That way I won't have to rush back early either."
My attach' case dropped out of my hands with a thud. Absently, I stooped to retrieve it, my heart suddenly beating a mile a minute. I sat down on the foot of the bed, staring at the voluptuous outline Brenda's body made under the sheet, and trying hard to sort out my thoughts. Finally, I gave up and swallowed my pride.
"I didn't know you were planning to go out this evening," I said casually, sounding inane even to my own ears.
Brenda sat up, propping her back up against two pillows before answering me. "Oh, I must have forgotten to mention it to you," she replied, smiling brightly. Then, to my astonishment, she dropped the subject as quickly as she had brought it up. "Darling, would you be an angel and bring me a glass of orange juice before you leave-with lots of ice in it?"
I nodded dazedly and went into the kitchen to obey her request. On the way back to the bedroom, I glanced at my wristwatch and realized that I was nearly late for work and wouldn't have time to cross-examine her.
"Thanks," she murmured as I handed her the glass of orange juice which she proceeded to gulp down greedily. After draining the glass she handed it to me, saying, "Don't you think you'd better be on your way? You know how Daddy frets about tardiness." Then she lay down again and looked as if she were going to go back to sleep.
I slammed the glass down on one of the night tables in annoyance and stood looking down at her, my fists clenching and unclenching in agitation.
"Well, I guess I'll be going," I announced, not making a move. "Have a nice time at your parents' tonight."
There was a moment of silence, apparently during which my wife was .trying to make up her mind about something. Then she rolled over so that she could face me, and looked me straight in the eye. Obviously, she had made her decision, and I gulped nervously, waiting for her next words.
"I'm not going to visit my parents tonight, Glenn," she said quietly. "You must have misunderstood."
My patience was at an end. "Then where the hell are you going?" I asked tightly.
Drawing the sheet over her breasts in a protective gesture, she said clearly, "I'm going out for dinner with Max Rappaport." Her tone of voice dared me to challenge her.
I stared at her in confusion for a moment. "Max who--? " I repeated curiously. "Who the hell is ... Oh, no, surely you don't mean that ninety-year-old Lothario who was pawing you at the party the other night!" I gasped incredulously, unable to believe my ears.
"Why, darling, I didn't think you'd noticed," she exclaimed, sounding flattered. "Besides, Max isn't ninety-he's only fifty-two and far from old, I assure you."
"When did you find the time to find out?" I said viciously. "During the week while I was at work? No wonder you were so anxious to get rid of me tonight!" I shouted, tossing my attach' case on the bed.
Brenda yelped as it struck her foot and looked at me with blazing eyes. "You've got a foul mind," she seethed. "If you had any perception at all, you'd realize that I'm being nice to Max-Mr. Rappaport for your sake."
I sank down heavily onto the bed again. What she was telling me was so incredible that I couldn't even think straight enough to form another remark.
Brenda glanced at my face and must have realized what was going through my mind. She reached out and placed her hand over mine. "Why, darling," she said quickly, "surely you can't be thinking that I-that Max and I..." Her voice trailed off and suddenly she was convulsed in laughter. Whether it was natural or not, I had no way of telling.
"I'm glad to know this is amusing you," I growled, suddenly feeling very foolish.
She stopped laughing, finally, but tears of mirth glistened from her eyes as she studied my face. I realized that I had been so preoccupied with thoughts of my own faithlessness that my guilt had projected itself to her. Unable to meet her eyes, I started to stand up, muttering, "Gotta go now-I'm late as it is."
"But don't you want to hear more about me and Max?" she teased.
Flushing, I picked up my attache case and turned to leave. At the bedroom door, I turned and called over my shoulder, "You can tell me all about it tonight-I'll wait up for you. But don't forget, don't go any further than holding hands with the old geezer-my career isn't that important."
I heard her giggle as I closed the door and had to smile to myself at my own stupidity. Of course I had behaved like a fool. Anyone who wanted to get anywhere in the business world knew that certain businessmen were more vulnerable after business hours than during. Particularly when they were middle-aged and the person who was offering a little friendly persuasion was in her twenties and desirable.
Of course, I puzzled, getting my convertible out of the garage, Brenda wasn't really going out of her way to be nice to Mr. Rappaport for my sake. At least, not directly, anyhow. He was a client her father had been trying to land for the last six months, I recalled. I didn't see how I would benefit from it, even if he did authorize us to do the advertising for his product.
Oh, well, I shrugged, perhaps my father-in-law was planning to put me in charge of the account. Of course! that had to be it I decided, suddenly feeling very chipper again and picking up speed.
I swerved deftly to avoid hitting another car and then glanced quickly at my wristwatch. Half an hour late ... oh, well, I thought cheerfully, the sooner this day is over, the sooner it will be evening and I can see Brett.
Brett! I snapped my fingers. I had forgotten to call her. For all I knew she had another date for tonight. But no, I decided, I wouldn't even call. I'd just drop in on her so she couldn't refuse to see me.
I had no doubt that she'd invite me in once she opened the door. She had been waiting for this meeting as long as I had....
CHAPTER TEN
BRETT
I knew who it was even before I opened the door. It was inevitable that he would try to contact me-whether to find out whether his charm was still working or because he sincerely wanted to see me was beyond me.
On this particular Thursday evening, I had come home from work, gotten out of my black and white seersucker suit and changed into a hot-pink jumpsuit with a low-scooped neckline. Then I turned on the air-conditioner and went into my tiny kitchenette, where I debated whether to have a mild cocktail before dinner. I decided affirmatively and carried my glass to my small sleeping alcove and placed it on the night table, so that I could pin up my hair. The night was especially warm and I wanted to be as comfortable as possible.
I picked up my drink again and strolled over to the sofa where I stretched out comfortably and began sipping my drink and rehashing the events of the day.
Nothing very exceptional had happened to me all week as it turned out. Although I saw Larry in the office every day, there had been no further requests for another date and I put it down to the fact that he didn't want to mix business with pleasure now that he was actually going to be in the office every day. I told myself that he was right, but in a weak moment I admitted to myself that I was disappointed. My reason was purely selfish; how could I keep my mind off Glenn if there was no one else to date?
Sighing, I rose and refilled my glass, knowing that I really ought to prepare dinner but preferring to luxuriate in the cloud of euphoria that was beginning to envelop me.
Sultry summer nights have a way of getting to me and making me restless and I knew that I was going to have to drug my mind if I expected to get any sleep that night. The past four nights had been spent with visions of Glenn floating through my sleepy brain, and they had been disturbing enough so that I had gotten very little sleep. I was determined that the same thing wouldn't occur again.
I silently cursed myself for allowing myself to become so disturbed over seeing him again-and at a chance meeting at that. But I also knew that my jitters were justified. Knowing Glenn as I did, it was natural to suspect that he would try to contact me as fast as he conveniently could. That was the cause of my present restlessness-anticipation. I almost wished he would phone me and get it over with.
As I was midway through my second cocktail, the doorbell rang.
My breath caught sharply as I saw him standing there, and all at once I was cold sober. He leaned against the doorway with a big grin on his face and asked, "Well, aren't you going to invite me in?"
Silently, I stood aside and let him enter the room, closing the door behind him. He looked around, inspecting the layout of my small studio apartment and then turned to me. "Small, but nice," he approved, lowering himself to the sofa, where he sprawled out, making himself at home.
I stood stiffly, looking down at him, wanting desperately to down the contents of the glass I was holding, but unwilling to give him the satisfaction.
"Don't you believe in using the telephone?" I said coolly, wanting nothing more than to feel his arms about me and be able to tell him how glad I was that he was so near.
He grinned again and gestured for me to join him on the sofa. Aware that if I didn't, my knees were going to buckle, I sat down as far away from him as possible, practically hugging the far arm of the sofa.
"Telephone?" he repeated, as if it were a foreign word. "Never touch the things-too impersonal, don't you agree?"
Then I did down my drink, for lack of an intelligent answer.
"And while you're making me that drink, see if you have any matches, will you, honey? I'm afraid I ran out of them," he said.
I stifled a smile, miffed yet amused that he still had a way of taking over the moment he entered a room. "Still scotch?" I asked, with a resigned air that I knew wasn't fooling him one single bit.
"It had better be," he laughed. "That's what I've been drinking since four this afternoon and if I switch now, then I've had it!"
I glanced at him quickly and realized that he really was a bit high and I had been too overwhelmed by his sudden appearance to notice it when he came in.
When I returned with his scotch on the rocks, I asked, "How come you started at four this afternoon? Were you fired?"
He laughed aloud at that. "Not quite," he replied. "I've got an 'in' with the boss. I happen to be married to his daughter. No, the reason I left the office at four was because I was so nervous that I needed a good stiff drink."
"Nervous about what?" I asked innocently, knowing what his answer was going to be but wanting to hear him say it.
"About seeing you tonight," he replied, moving closer to me but not making an attempt to touch me.
He was close enough so that I could smell the aroma of his after-shave lotion and cigarette smoke and scotch-all the smells I associated with Glenn. My brain became befogged again and as all reason left me, sensation and emotion began to take me over.
I turned to face him and gave him a real smile for the first time that evening. "Well, anyway, it's good to see you again," I conceded, leaning forward so that he could light my cigarette.
He uttered an exaggerated sigh of relief and pressed his hand to his heart in a melodramatic gesture, causing me to laugh despite myself. Then, suddenly, I was in his arms, weeping, and he was stroking my hair and I felt at peace for the first time in two years. I felt as if I had come home.
And then his lips were covering mine, hotly, possessively, and the last thing I remember before he switched out the lamp and buried his lips between the cleavage of my breasts was his tender utterance; "Oh, Brett, darling-you'll never know how much I missed you..."
We made love twice more before we got around to talking seriously, and neither one of us was in a hurry, even though four hours had already gone by and we hadn't had dinner. It was as though we couldn't get enough of each other, as if we had to make up for two years in one lovely night.
By this time, we had moved from the sofa to my single bed, which wasn't really large enough to be comfortable for two people-unless those two people happened to be madly in love.
It felt so wonderful to be wrapped tightly in Glenn's arms again, and for a few moments I closed my eyes and pretended that we were married and that he didn't have to get dressed shortly and go home.
Then he was kissing away a tear that I hadn't realized was trickling down my cheek. "Please don't be sorry," he whispered, his lips against my ear. "I couldn't stand it if you were sorry."
I opened my eyes immediately and glanced at his lips which were only inches from my own. "I'm not crying because I'm unhappy, Glenn," I murmured, reaching for his hand and placing it on my breast.
"Oh, baby," he groaned, burrowing his lips in my throat and pressing his naked limbs against mine. "If you only knew how long I've been waiting for this moment. Do you have any idea how very much you mean to me?"
That broke my heart and I was unable to resist sobbing, "Then why, darling, why did you leave me in the first place?"
He closed his eyes as if the pain of the memory were too much for him and I immediately regretted bringing up a subject that would bring him pain.
"It's all right," I said quickly. "Never mind. It doesn't really matter now. All that matters is that we're together."
He smiled bitterly and looked away. "Thanks," he muttered, "for not making me give you an explanation, because I don't have one. I was an idiotic fool and I'm not making excuses to myself. I thought I knew what was most important to me-apparently I made a stupid mistake. I'm only sorry you had to be hurt, sweetheart. Please find it in your heart to forgive me..."
Suddenly I was all choked up again. "Glenn, darling," I said, stroking his cheek, "please don't talk that way. I can't bear it when you're unhappy."
"Even after what I've put you through," he asked tightly, rolling over on his back and staring blindly at the ceiling.
For answer, I kissed him.
He propped himself up on one elbow and looked down into my face, running his hand gently over my thighs. "You know, I don't deserve anyone like you," he said.
"That's true," I murmured tenderly, drawing his head down.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
GLENN
With an effort I finally pulled myself away from Brett's arms at midnight, not wanting to antagonize Brenda by coming home too late. Only after I had kissed Brett goodnight, with the promise to phone her the next day, did I remember that my wife had gone out and might not be home herself yet. I cursed my rotten memory, and was about to tell Brett that I could remain with her a while longer, when I noticed her rub a hand wearily over her eyes and smile sleepily at me. Poor kid, I thought proudly, I had really exhausted her tonight. What she needed was a good night's sleep.
I studied her pale, pretty face with its halo of thick tawny hair, the deepest blue eyes that were looking up at me so adoringly-and suddenly a great feeling of tenderness, of possessiveness overwhelmed me. Why, I had known this lovely creature for years-had known her since she was a flirtatious but innocent little girl!
I let my eyes roam up and down her sweetly curved figure as she stood before me, naked and unashamed under the intimate scrutiny of my eyes. I reached out to fondle one of her breasts and it stiffened obediently under my touch.
She was still mine, I marveled. No man had touched her before I had and although there had been a lover or two after me, she was still mine. Totally mine.
Only one thing disturbed me, and it was the same thing that had bugged me when we were going together-despite everything, I felt a sense of responsibility toward the girl. No other woman I had ever met had made me yearn to be her protector. Whenever I looked at Brett-despite her show of independence-I had the urge to pick her up in the palm of my hand and put her in my pocket.
I gently pushed her from me, pecked her on the cheek and reached for the doorknob. This kind of thinking was getting me no place. If I wasn't in a position to cope with the responsibility that was Brett two years ago, I was in even less of a position to do so now. No, I just couldn't risk it-I stood to lose too much.
"Well," I said cheerfully, "pleasant dreams, sweetheart. I'll be speaking to you tomorrow."
She was shaking her head. "No," she said with a sad little smile.
"What do you mean-no?" I objected, a bit shaken that she had seemed to sense what I was thinking. "Don't you want to see me again?"
"You know the answer to that as well as I do," she said wearily. "But that isn't the point. Tonight was all we can ever have."
"You can't be serious!" I stormed, feeling suddenly as though I no longer held all the cards.
"Can and am," she said calmly, sauntering back into the living room with me close on her heels, and curling up in a corner of the sofa. "Look, Glenn," she said pleadingly, reaching for my hand and pulling me down, "please don't spoil it now. It's been a lovely evening and I'd like to remember it that way."
"I don't understand what the hell you're talking about!" I sputtered. "There's no reason why we can't go on seeing each other. You've been in love with me for two years now," I continued desperately, not caring what I was saying, "so don't pretend that a one-night stand is enough for you." I saw her cheeks flush angrily and decided to shut my big mouth, as I only seemed to be making things worse. Instead of talking, I dropped my head wearily in my hands and sighed deeply, knowing that would get to her.
But when I lifted my head again, she had disappeared. I looked around wildly until I spotted her, pulling down a robe from her closet and tying it about her nudity. Then she came back and sat down beside me again.
"All right," she sighed, "perhaps I had better spell it out for you."
I looked at her bleakly through bloodshot eyes. My head was beginning to feel as though someone was hammering nails into it and I was in no mood to be lectured. Nevertheless, I lit a fresh cigarette that tasted like sand to me and rested my hand against the back of the couch.
"Okay, shoot," I drawled. "But you're wasting your time. There's nothing you can say that will make me change my mind about seeing you again."
"Glenn," she said patiently, "much as I care about you, I will not break up your marriage. You gave up too much to get this far and I won't let you throw it away."
I came back to earth with a start. Break up my marriage? What on earth was she babbling about, I wondered. Surely she didn't think I had any intention of leaving Brenda...
"Who's talking about breaking up any marriages?" I asked incredulously. "Brenda doesn't ever have to find out that I'm seeing you-" I broke off abruptly as she stared at me in disbelief.
"You mean-you mean," she stammered, not taking her eyes from my face, "to say that all you want from me is-is an affair?"
"Well, I wouldn't put it that way, exactly," I protested weakly, wondering what I was supposed to say. "I mean you don't have to make it sound cheap, you know. We'll get you a better apartment, one with a bedroom," I added with a grin. "That won't be any problem," I said quickly, noting the color drain out of her cheeks, "I'll just put it on my expense account-"
"Get out!" she hissed furiously.
I stared at her blankly. "What did I say wrong?" I pleaded, astonished that tears were flooding down her cheeks. Dammit, why did women always have to turn on the faucet at every little thing-especially when you were just trying to be nice to them, I thought, miffed. "Brett, cut it out," I said sharply, "and kindly explain why you're looking at me as if I were some kind of a werewolf."
But she just stared at me in stony silence-looked at me, and judged me, and apparently found me wanting. Then all of a sudden, it hit me ... she had deliberately provoked this scene so that I would be forced to make a choice ... a choice between my wife and her. money and my job ... or Brett. And adorable and as good a bed partner as Brett was, the scales were definitely not tilted in her favor. Call it cowardly or selfish on my part, but at least I was honest enough with myself to know what I needed to make me happy. Once you got used to the easy life, it wasn't easy to give it up-not even for love, I thought sadly.
But still, I didn't want to let Brett get away now that I had found her again. She was exactly what I needed to round out my life ... I would simply have to persuade her to see things my way.
"Did you want me to promise to get a divorce and marry you?" I asked quietly. "Believe me, sweetheart, if I thought that was the answer, I'd speak to Brenda tonight, but..."
"But your sense of loyalty won't allow you to hurt her," she finished scornfully.
"Oh, come on, Brett, you know that isn't being fair," I protested. "It isn't like that at all and I refuse to be hypocritical and claim that I wouldn't hurt Brenda if I thought it was the only way of getting what I want-" I broke off, realizing that I was saying too much of the wrong thing. Brett didn't want to hear about my wife, she wanted to hear how I felt about her. And what I intended to do about it.
"Listen," I said hopefully, drawing nearer to her and putting my arm around her shoulders, "just be patient with me and we'll work something out-you'll see. Maybe," I went on, getting carried away myself, "maybe we can even do something about that divorce in a couple of years, when I've made it on my own and don't have to rely on my father-in-law anymore. Hmm, what do you say? How about giving it a chance my way for a while?" I finished my little plea by flashing Brett an appealing smile, and waited for her answer, confident now that I had managed to convince her to play by my rules.
You can imagine my surprise when she suddenly burst into hysterical laughter!
CHAPTER TWELVE
BRETT
I guess I was almost as surprised as Glenn was when I held the front door open and invited him out of my apartment. The expression on his face was priceless and I shall never forget it. Painful as it was for me at the time, I can almost laugh about it now-now that my dream-balloon has been busted.
Each day, with Larry Richmond's help, I'm becoming more and more accustomed to reality and am not finding it at all as common-place as I had always feared it would be.
True, it took me a few weeks of brooding and soul-searching to get Glenn out of my system and I consider that I got off easy after making a fool of myself for two years. After Glenn left that last evening, I racked my brain trying to decide whether I'd be happier being Glenn's mistress indefinitely rather than not seeing him at all. And finally I decided that I could never really be satisfied with sharing only a corner of someone's life-even if that someone were Glenn-and I made up my mind to give someone else a chance. Even if that someone else happened to be the boss's son.
The next time that Larry asked me out again, my face must have registered surprise because he commented upon it.
"Well," I explained, "It's just that I didn't think you'd want to date someone who works in your office..."
"I don't," he agreed, fighting back a smile.
I stared at him blankly. "But why...? "
He just laughed and suddenly his face that had been almost ugly a moment ago, was suddenly charming. So charming that, although I didn't understand his mirth in the least, I joined him.
It felt good to be able to laugh again.
And two months later, after Larry and I had been dating steadily almost every night, I realized what he had been laughing at that day.
We were enjoying a champagne dinner in his apartment when I noticed a foreign object at the bottom of my champagne glass, as I lifted it to my lips. I stared at it curiously for a moment then showed it to Larry, who glanced at it briefly then looked at me with a deadpan expression on his face.
"Why don't you take it out?" he suggested. "I'm sure it won't bite you."
I looked at him quizzically and muttered, "If it does, I'm going to sue you, so I hope you're insured." Nevertheless, I did as he suggested.
I held the small, damp beige box in my hand and stared at it. It could only contain one thing and I was not sure whether I was ready to accept it.
Larry solved the problem for me by taking it from my hand, opening it up and murmuring in mock surprise, "Well, well, what have we here?"
He held up the largest diamond ring I had ever seen in my life and I could do nothing but gulp.
"Seems you've found buried treasure," he informed me. "And it seems to be just about your size. Let's see how it fits..."
"Oh, but, Larry, I couldn't" I protested. "I mean it's lovely but..."
I stared at the exquisite ring he had placed on my finger and suddenly my eyes flooded with tears.
"It's all right if you don't like it," he said, laughing. Then suddenly he became serious. "Brett, dear," he said gently, "it's up to you to decide whether you want to keep it or not. I'm going out on the terrace. If you decide to keep it, have it on your finger when you join me on the terrace." Then he was gone.
I did as he requested-I thought about it seriously for what seemed to be a long time. How wonderful it felt to be wanted.
When I joined him on the terrace, he didn't even notice my appearance, so busy was he staring out at the city, lost in thought. I walked around so that I was standing at his right hand side and placed my left hand in his.
Catching his breath sharply, he grasped my hand and when he felt the diamond cut into his palm his face broke into a grin and he turned to face me.
"Miss Carlisle," he said severely, unable to stifle either the grin or the sparkle in his eyes, "were you given a typing test before my father hired you?"
"Why, yes sir," I said meekly.
"Well, now that I'm to be your new boss-I did inform you that you were quitting your job, didn't I; I don't believe in mixing business with pleasure-I think it only fair that I try you out first. How does that sound to you?"
"You mean you want to give me a typing test?" I asked coyly, feeling the excitement rising in me as I felt his nearness.
"That wasn't quite what I had in mind, Miss Carlisle," Larry grinned, picking me up in his arms and carrying me into his bed
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
GLENN
That night I spent with Brett was the beginning of End for me, in a manner of speaking.
It wasn't bad enough that Brett had given me a hard time, but that was nothing in comparison to the scene that awaited me when I arrived home.
Brenda was curled up on the living room sofa clad only in a slip. Her usually tidy brown hair was disheveled and her coral lipstick was smeared slightly. She held a tall glass of milk-and it was strangely incongruous with her appearance-in one hand and with the other she fingered a pendant that dangled from her neck and stopped just at the cleavage of her breasts.
She nodded distantly at me as I entered the room, as though I were the butler or something and took a few dainty sips from her glass, an odd little smile on her lips the whole time.
I sat down opposite her in a big easy chair and regarded her in silence. Between my splitting headache and wounded ego I was in pretty bad shape and only hoped she would wait until morning before making a scene.
But I needn't have worried because she scarcely seemed to be aware of my presence, so engrossed was she in what she was thinking.
Finally, I broke the silence. "Sorry I'm so late," I murmured lackadaisically, rubbing my ringers over my temples to help ease the pain. "But I left the car in a garage and had trouble getting a cab."
She smiled at me absently, then added, "Oh, that's all right."
I stared at her in disbelief. "Hey, are you sure you feel all right?" I asked suspiciously. And then, through the haze of pain and liquor and weariness, remembrance suddenly penetrated.
"By the way, how was your dinner with Rappaport?" I asked tightly, suddenly feeling a merciless throbbing in my head.
"Lovely, just lovely," she murmured dreamily.
"Where'd you get that trinket?" I asked, pointing at the pendant she was playing with. "I don't recall seeing it before."
"That's because you haven't," she said brightly. "Max gave it to me this evening."
I felt a sickening thud in my stomach and wished desperately for oblivion. "For having dinner with him?" I asked thickly, clenching my knuckles so tightly that they were turning white.
"Why yes," she said, smiling innocently, and shifting her position so that one of her slip straps slipped off her shoulder. She didn't bother to fix it and I couldn't have cared less-suddenly the sight of her disgusted me.
"And of course, I was nice to him," she added guilelessly. "After all, he is a very special client of Daddy's, you know."
"Of course," I repeated tonelessly. "As long as you enjoyed yourself."
She blew me a kiss across the room, beaming, "You're an angel-I knew you'd be sophisticated about it and understand-"
"And if I didn't understand?" I suggested, feeling a soothing numbness come over me.
She thought seriously for a second, then with an apologetic look on her face, admitted, "Well, that would be a pity but I'm afraid you'd have no choice in the matter."
From the way she was speaking, I realized that Max Rappaport was only the first of my wife's lovers but that he wouldn't be the last. Strangely enough, it didn't rankle as much as you'd suspect-not after the initial shock was over. Oddly enough, I felt almost a sense of relief. Just for the hell of it, however, I said, "I could always divorce you, you know. Or haven't you thought about that?"
She laughed triumphantly, then, and I realized she had an ace up her sleeve, though I couldn't imagine what it could be. Unless she had somehow found out about Brett...
"You won't divorce me," she said confidently. "Not unless you want to spend the next couple of years in jail, that is. You really wouldn't like that, my darling. You'd have no liquor, no women, no-"
"What the hell are you babbling about?" I shouted, jumping up from my chair. "You must be going out of your mind!"
"If you sit down we can discuss this calmly," she said quietly, sipping her milk. "It's about the money you've been embezzling from Daddy..."
I sank down heavily and for the first time in my life I could think of absolutely nothing to say.
"You see, I've known about your borrowing for some months now," she continued casually, as though she were discussing the weather. "Daddy's accountant came to me as soon as he realized you were forging Daddy's signature on checks. He said he knew I'd want to know about it before he notified my father, and asked me what to do about the matter. I suggested that he do nothing, but to come to me with the amount you-you borrowed each month and I would cover it. That way Daddy need never find out about it and..."
"And you'd have something to blackmail me with, if the need ever arose," I said bitterly, knowing I was licked. "Well, why don't you just get rid of me, divorce me?" I suggested.
She smiled at me, letting her eyes roam uninhibitedly over my body. "Let's just say I've gotten used to having you around," she purred, putting down her glass and coming towards me with an exaggerated slither in her hip movements. She kissed me moistly on the back of the neck and continued on to the bedroom. At the door she turned and called, "Do hurry and get undressed, darling. I'll be waiting up for you..."
