B00CAXBD9C EBOK (21 page)

He parted her negligee. Her legs were exceptionally long, crowned at the top by a small mound of silver-blond hair, matched perfectly to the hair on her head. She opened them slowly, her hands moving around his back, digging her nails into him, pulling him closer.

With surprise he realized he wasn’t yet ready. To distract her from this fact he moved his head to her breasts and started to kiss them.

She moaned softly, digging her nails even harder into his back. After a few minutes she grew impatient, and her hands travelled down his body. Her eyes were closed, but they snapped open suddenly when she felt him.

‘What’s the matter, honey?’ she purred, a slight edge to her voice. ‘This is real Georgia pussy!’

Embarrassed, he said, ‘It’s nothing, just give me a moment.’

Annoyed, she closed her eyes again, this time her hands working on him, pulling, stroking, kneading.

‘Come on, sugar,’ she pleaded, ‘this little snatch is waiting for you!’

His physical reaction was nil. This was a nightmare, something that had never happened to him before. He grew panicky, conjuring up every erotic picture he could think of.

Nothing, absolutely nothing.

He tried to remember the last time he had had sex. Mousy Miss Field, his horrifying secretary. Desperately he thought of the evening he had spent with her.

Suddenly it was all right. He felt himself swelling, growing big, bigger.

Lori sighed with pleasure. ‘That’s beautiful, honey.’ She wrapped her long pale legs around him as he started to enter her, forcefully, powerfully. He would show her!

He drove into her. Strong, brutal thrusts.

She squealed with delight. ‘Ooh – ooh – that’s great, honey – that’s wild – ooh – don’t stop – don’t stop.’ Her voice changed. ‘Why have you stopped?’

He didn’t reply. He was too overcome with embarrassment. He had heard about this happening to other men, but not to him.

She was getting angry. Her sleek, sexy drawl turned shrill. ‘What’s the matter with you? Are we going to ball or not? If I want this sort of action, I can get it with my husband!’

He rolled off. ‘I’m sorry.’

Furious, she sat up. ‘
You’re
sorry.’ She stood up too, her hard breasts and exotic nipples staring accusingly at him. ‘Get the hell out of here. I’ve got to find myself a
real
man.’

Humiliated, he went to the bathroom and dressed.

When he came out she was on the phone purring, ‘Sure, honey, in ten minutes’ time will be fine.’

He let himself out feeling ashamed. What a terrible thing to happen, and why? He had fancied her strongly. It wasn’t
her
fault. Although maybe it was. She made no secret of the fact that there were many men other than her husband.

He went to the bar and ordered a brandy. By the time he had finished it he had convinced himself it was
all
Lori’s fault. Lousy bitch! She had castrated him with thoughts of all the other men. They were all the same, women. They all wanted to render you impotent in one way or the other.

On impulse he decided to give it another try that night. Not with Lori, of course. But what about Miss Field Mouse? She was quiet and inoffensive, and he was going to get rid of her anyway, so what harm one more bash?

He didn’t even fancy her, so it would be real proof if he could make it with her.

He vaguely remembered where she lived. She was sure to be home, so he had another brandy and set off.

Hammering on her door, he found himself as hard as a rock.

She got out of bed to answer the door, clutching a woollen dressing gown around her. Lank brown hair, sallow pinched face. ‘Mr. Cooper!’ she exclaimed.

He pushed past her, taking his clothes off and dropping them on the floor. ‘Get undressed,’ he commanded.

Averting her eyes, she obeyed him.

He took her savagely, pinning her puny body to the floor.

There was nothing wrong with him!

Linda never did phone and cancel Jay the next morning. He arrived, took them out to lunch, and the children were captivated.

He told them stories, played with them, and then they all went to a movie.

In the evening he stayed at the house for a bacon-and-egg supper and Linda found herself unable to break off the relationship. She put Miss Susan Standish to the back of her mind and continued going out with Jay. She liked him, the children liked him, Janey especially. He was wonderful with them.

It became a routine to spend every Sunday together. Jay always thought of new things for them to do, and they looked forward to their day out eagerly. It was a good thing, because since David’s last visit he had not been heard from. Linda was furious. It was a pleasure as far as she was concerned, but she thought it selfish and mean of David to completely ignore the children. They were constantly asking, ‘When’s Daddy coming?’ ‘Where is he?’ If it hadn’t been for Jay at weekends she was sure they would have been even more upset.

‘Doesn’t Daddy love us anymore?’ Janey asked sadly one afternoon.

‘Of course he does, darling,’ Linda replied, hugging her little girl to her. ‘He’s just very busy.’

‘I love Uncle Jay,’ Janey said solemnly.
‘He’s
not too busy.’

So their relationship flourished, and at the end of a few weeks Linda found herself firmly in love with him. They went to the theatre, small intimate restaurants, large exciting parties, movies. In fact, they spent almost every night together and regularly every weekend. They went to the zoo, the park, museums and drives in the country.

He was amusing, attentive, interested in everything she did, but he never attempted more than a brief – almost brotherly – good-night kiss.

It started to drive her mad. Her body screamed out for some sort of attention. Whenever they danced, she would have to hold herself in tight check to prevent herself pushing her body intimately against him. When they kissed, she was in suspense waiting for him to go further. But he remained the perfect gentleman. Never touching her.

It reached a point where she decided she could go on no longer, and she resolved to bring it up at the next suitable moment.

The opportunity came sooner than expected. There was an end-of-film party at the studio. Linda was chatting to Jay and Bob Jeffries, the assistant director, when up marched Miss Standish. She was wearing the same white pants suit Linda had seen her in before. It suited her, complementing her glowing skin and tumbled blond hair.

‘Jay, darling,’ she murmured, ‘can I have a little word with you?’ She had sly eyes, a secret smile always present.

‘What is it, Susan?’ His tone was pleasant.

‘Privately.’

Jay shrugged his shoulders at Linda and Bob and walked away with Susan.

Linda said, ‘Is she in the film?’

Bob laughed. ‘At the moment she is, but I’ve got a feeling she’s going to land on the cutting-room floor.’

‘Oh.’ Linda quickly changed the subject. She didn’t want Bob to think she was jealous.

Jay returned quite soon and didn’t mention the incident, but Linda knew that as soon as they were alone she was going to bring it up.

After the party, joined by Bob Jeffries and his wife, they went to Annabel’s. It was impossible to talk there, and on the drive home there was the ever-present chauffeur.

‘You’re very withdrawn tonight,’ Jay said, his tone light.

She nodded.

‘What’s the matter?’ He was concerned.

‘I don’t want to talk now,’ she said, looking toward the chauffeur. ‘Come in for coffee if you like.’

She had never invited him into her house when he took her home before; perhaps she should have.

She left him in the living room and went into the kitchen. Now that she had him there, what was there to say? It was all so difficult. There were no words that could really express the way she felt.

Absently she placed some chocolate biscuits on a plate and fixed coffee.

He was sitting reading the evening paper. She felt at a complete loss for words as she handed him his coffee.

He solved the problem for her by speaking first. ‘I have to go back to Los Angeles in two weeks.’

‘Oh.’ She felt deflated.

He hesitated and then said, ‘How about coming with me?’

‘With you?’ For a few pleasant seconds she considered the possibility, then reality hit her. ‘That’s impossible, Jay. I can’t leave the children.’

‘Bring the children. They’d love it.’

She shook her head. ‘I can’t take them out of school. Anyway—’

He cut her short. ‘Linda, I’m not very good at this sort of thing. I’ve only ever said it to idiots before.’ He got up nervously. ‘Linda, I’m asking you to marry me.’ He rushed on. ‘I guess I love you. You’re the most wonderful, warm, giving woman I’ve ever met. I know you’ve been burned once, and I know how you feel – but believe me, I’ll try to make you happy. I’m not perfect. I’ve been involved with a lot of stupid broads – I’ve got a weakness for tall blondes I can’t deny – but if you’ll marry me, I think everything will work out, and I think we could make a wonderful life together.’ He paused. ‘Well?’

‘Jay.’ She whispered his name. ‘Yes, Jay, yes, yes.’

He kissed her. ‘Let’s do it soon, like tomorrow. I can’t wait for you much longer.’

She felt tears stinging her eyes. ‘I love you.’

He stroked her hair, then let her go. ‘Go to bed. I’ll call you first thing. I’ll arrange everything. The sooner the better, huh?’

She nodded. ‘The sooner the better,’ she murmured.

* * *

Claudia spent the days after Shirley and Conrad’s wedding in a drunken stupor. She drank a full bottle of Scotch a day, occasionally cramming her mouth with sleeping pills or tranquillizers until she reached a sort of happy oblivion. She didn’t eat, wash, or dress, just wandered around the apartment in sordid naked splendour.

The phone rang but she never picked it up. One day the door buzzer rang so insistently that she was forced to answer it.

It was Giles. ‘Christ!’ He was aghast at her appearance. He bundled her into a dressing gown and made her drink black coffee until her eyes started to focus and she could talk.

‘What kind of a trip have
you
been on?’ he demanded.

She shook her head. ‘I feel terrible.’

‘You
look
terrible.’

‘What day is it?’

‘God, you’ve
really
been away. It’s Monday.’

‘Monday. I guess I went on a little bender.’

He surveyed the room, empty Scotch bottles, broken records, overturned furniture. ‘I guess so. Who was the guy?’

She shrugged. ‘No one. Just felt like getting stoned alone. What are you doing here anyway? Thought you were in Spain.’

‘I’ve come bearing glad tidings. Your tits are world-famous.’

He produced a copy of
Man at Play,
one of the biggest-selling men’s magazines in the States.

He opened it and showed her the centre fold-out. There she was in solid colour standing on her terrace with London silhouetted in the background, wearing the pink shirt which Giles had hosed with water, her perfect rounded breasts standing out firm and full, the nipples rigid and pointed.

He turned the page. There she was lying on her bed, black negligee, breasts escaping, mouth half-open, eyes half-closed.

The next page and the next page were all of her. The caption said
Beautiful London model and actress Claudia Parker shows us some of the better sights of Great Britain.

‘You’re a big hit,’ Giles said enthusiastically. ‘They want us to do a whole new series of photos. They’ll pay a bomb. Want us to fly to New York. Want you to meet Edgar J. Pool – owner of the magazine. This is your big chance, baby.
This
is successville.’

She studied the magazine. Why, oh why, had she cut her hair?

‘When do we go?’ she asked, her face lighting up.

‘As soon as we get you into shape. You look scrawny as hell, and that hair – we’ll have to get you a wig. Here, sign this.’

He thrust a paper at her which she signed without so much as a glance.

‘I’m going to book you into a health farm for a week. You really need it. I reckon about ten days from now we can go. I’ll let them know. They’re really wild for you – want you to be Miss Playmonth of the Year. Baby, you and I are going to be rich!’

* * *

Was it the fifth or sixth night David had spent with Miss Field? He couldn’t remember. He only knew it had become a habit to leave the office, eat dinner, have a few drinks, and then go hammering on her door.

She held a sort of morbid fascination for him. What was it that made sex with her so overpowering and exciting? It was certainly the most erotic experience he had ever had. She always crept to the door clutching her woollen dressing gown around her. He had to command her to undress. Then she took her clothes off reluctantly, revealing a thin, white, undernourished body. She was flat-chested, with flaccid nipples that didn’t even harden to the touch. However, when he was in her, pounding away, she held him in a grip of steel, squeezing and pumping the life out of him. Giving him no rest, holding him in her like a vice.

He hated her, but he couldn’t stop returning night after night.

During the day at the office neither of them mentioned it. She crept around quietly going about her business, mouselike as usual.

He wanted to break the habit.

A busty, provocative-looking girl called Ginny was doing an ad for his company. He manoeuvred an introduction, found her very attractive. She reminded him of a much sexier, more obvious version of Claudia.

He invited her out to dinner. She turned up in an almost topless, startling red dress. She had pink-and-white English skin and full pouty lips.

This was going to be all right, he decided.

During dinner she drank frozen daiquiris and giggled a lot. They danced, and her body was warm and bouncy. All the men in the restaurant were watching her, which made David feel good. At one point, during a vigorous dance, one full pink-and-white breast popped completely over the top of her dress, giving a delightful view of a pale brown nipple, pert and generous. She tucked herself back into her dress with an inane giggle.