Chapter 10
It was working better than either of them had anticipated. Doug felt like a young man again. He was free to do his late-hour work, but found that his efficiency during the day had doubled, cutting down his need to burn the midnight oil.
Gwen was strikingly different, too. He noticed not just in the bedroom, but in her general appearance. She dressed exotically, preparing herself as though for a king rather than a mere husband. And when she walked, her shoulders no longer slouched, but stood square and proud. Her hips pumped, rather than rotating the way they had only a few short weeks ago.
Yet, she wasn't advertising her voluptuousness in a ludicrous fashion. Her movements and dress were all wrapped in an air of confidence and cool that Doug appreciated and other men envied.
She had even become earnestly interested in golf, and, Doug was convinced, not just because she and Harry took an occasional moonlight tour of the golf course. Her time was now divided proportionately between the running of a social life within the community; and the more clandestine sex life enjoyed between the Bentons and Stillmans. Everything was charmingly without a hitch, except for the one part of her body which she refused him entry.
Even though she had opened up in every other way, Doug couldn't get her to let him insert his penis into her anus. It was the last stronghold, the one part of her which would allow him total Conquest. The rest of her sexual attitude was great, he thought. He no longer felt that she was holding back on him, but rather that she was giving herself to him. And he felt more sensual than ever when their bodies were locked together. He tasted her flesh and found it powdered with sybaritic spices he thought were only part of Val's and Ginny's sexual repertoire.
Business-wise, everything was perfect. Just the other day he had received a meek call from Carl Bruno telling him in the most obsequious terms that the proposal and briefs had been reviewed and found to be pluperfect.
Gwen enjoyed the same general elation as her husband, and perhaps more. She found quickly that the older more conservative social group was everything but boring. They were illuminating. Their sophistication and longevity in the world of the elite filled her with a new sense of confidence which she radiated in both charm and aplomb. She engaged in their conversations and found herself feeding a growing interest in art and antiques.
Val was a great help. Although Val was not socially on the same level because of her husband's duties on the golf course, the women accepted her without questions. Val was a woman composed. A woman who telegraphed her own social bearing without it being listed in Who's Who In America. When Gwen asked her to come to the club and bridge meetings, she found Val an ample and loyal ally. With Val's knowledge of art and antiques-the two pet loves of the women's club-she was accepted eagerly into the pecking order and given a prominent roost.
Gwen and Val weren't deep friends. Gwen was slightly aloof at times, especially when she remembered that Val had been the first to take her husband's body-at least the first that she was aware "of with certainty. But aside from that, their relationship was warm and generous and filled with occasional switches of partners, Doug going to Val's, Harry coming to Doug's for an evening of mixed mates. Sometimes the four stayed at the Benton home where they played sexual games with putters on the green.
It was only within a week of the first party that all this transpired, but it was a good barometer of things to come. Everyone was happy. Everyone was satisfied.
Val had received an impatient call from Angelo Castello concerning her debt, and she had told him she would bring the woman in a few days. She knew he didn't like to wait for anything. She knew that when it came time for him to die, he would not linger. He would have made preparations for his death to come quickly, without his knowledge, so that he might go to sleep one night and awaken the next morning in heaven. He had no doubts, he had told her many times, that for all the evil he was forced into conducting, the good that resulted would always cheat the Devil. God, Angelo said, was a gambler who played the odds. If you did better than fifty-fifty, good as opposed to evil, you would go to heaven. He was sure it had to work that way, or there would be no one in heaven.
So, on the Wednesday of the second week, with Angelo growing more and more impatient, Val decided it was time to approach Gwen. She had called her and asked her to come over for an afternoon drink.
She met Gwen at the door. The woman was radiant, dressed in a light, colorful, low-cut dress that revealed her pouting breasts and sun-toasted skin. Her eyes were manicured into frames which made her eyes sparkle like a bright, impressionistic painting.
Gwen took Val's hand and pressed it into her palm, then followed the woman into the sunken living room where the frosted Collins glasses stood at sweating attention.
"Glad you could make it," Val said, offering one of the iced drinks. "I wanted to talk to you about something that's extremely important to me."
Gwen sipped her drink, studying Val cautiously. Val wasn't the kind of woman who asked for anything.
"Whatever I can do, I'll be glad to."
Val shook her loose hair and smiled. "I did something for someone once, and he returned a very gracious favor. But now I owe him something in return."
Gwen looked puzzled.
"This particular man in unique. He's fought for everything he has. Some say he's a criminal, but I believe that a rhetorical statement. I consider him a very generous man who, once indebted to you, can be invaluable."
Gwen nodded, but was still dismayed at the illusionary approach. She watched as Val shifted uncomfortably on the couch.
"This man and I had a business meeting a few days ago, during which I promised him something in return for a very dear and deep favor that indirectly affects you. He effectively staved off a threat to our little group meetings. Someone had caught wind of them and thought they might capitalize on our weakness, without, of course, understanding our strength."
Gwen began to understand the implications. Whoever she was talking about worked outside the law, and had made himself an indelible mark on Val's friendship.
"What can I possibly do to help?"
Val sipped her drink. She wasn't sure what kind of answer she would receive. She knew there was still some hostility between them, hostility that only time would erode.
"This particular man wants to make love to you."
Gwen smiled. "I don't see any problem there." She cocked her head, knowing that Val wouldn't have set up such an elaborate introduction for just a short-time affair.
Val rose and lit a cigarette. "This man makes love quite differently than most men. He prefers a woman's ass to her vagina."
Gwen felt the blood draining from her face. "I don't even let my husband do that!" she found herself saying. "I don't think it's right!"
"Right or wrong," Val answered with the same controlled tone to her voice, "I hope you consider it carefully. I don't want to sound menacing. This is something you can only do of you own volition. Nobody will force you into it, believe me."
"I believe you," Gwen said. "But I don't see how I can help. I just don't like it. Doug's tried, and I won't let him. It just bothers me, that's all."
"You don't have to explain," Val said, holding her hands up. "I know what you think. But I have to say that it's not as bad as you imagine. It's just another means of making an old story sound fresh. But you'll learn that later on, when you find that your sex life isn't quite complete. Experimentation and innovation are two prime necessities to a full and healthy sex life. We both know I'm talking about using every orifice and muscle to its fullest. A man gets tired of making love to the vagina, just as a woman gets tired of being made love to by a penis.
"Have you ever had an urge to masturbate? Or just to rub yourself in the shower until your nipples grew hard and your vagina wet?"
Gwen nodded. "But that doesn't mean I did those things. I mean, I think about Doug making love to my anus, but I can't let him do it. I freeze up. I just have a thing about it, that's all."
"But you let your doctor do it with his finger and a rubber glove, right?"
"That's different."
"Only in a minor way. It's purely physical and not sensual."
"I don't like it when the doctor does it."
"Because," Val said, "you don't want to enjoy it. Sex and stimulation are more mental than physical. Haven't you waited for Doug to come out of the bathroom, and while you were lying on the bed naked and anticipating his affections, you let your mind wander. Just thinking made your nipples stiff and your skin pop out into goose bumps. Didn't just the thought of his lips and hands on you make your bones feel like jelly?"
"Certainly."
"Anal sex is the same, Gwen. Look, I don't want to sound pushy about this. Frankly, I'm in a bind. I don't expect you to come rushing to my rescue. We're friends, but we're also enemies, and I don't have to go into lengthy explanations. As far as I'm concerned, what was said here this afternoon is water under the bridge. I'll just have to tell my friend I was unable to convince you. He'll be mad, but he'll get over it."
Gwen looked at the slice of orange floating in her glass. "I'm sorry, Val. I just can't."
Val's voice took on a cold, matronly tone. "Don't say that. You can and you know it. It's just a fear that you have to overcome. like putting, Gwen. Never up, never in. You have to try for the hole, and if you miss, well, at least you tried. But if you lag the putt short, you can never be sure it wouldn't have rolled in for a birdie or par. The same goes for sex. If you never experiment, you can always hide behind some false fear. And believe me, you'll find the fear very false when you finally decide to putt for the hole."
Gwen wrapped her fingers around the glass. She felt the coldness climb up from her fingers to her wrist, then to her arm.
"All right," she said after an interminable silence. "What if I said yes under a condition? What if I said I would try, and that if I couldn't stand it, your friend wouldn't push me any farther?"
Val turned and stared at Gwen. "Do you mean it?"
Gwen nodded. "I owe you and Harry something. Doug and I are, for the first time since our honeymoon, finally coming around to each other. It's like a new lease on life. I don't want to risk anything that would damage it."
Val sat, crossing her legs and crushing the cigarette out.
"I guarantee my friend will be gentle. And that he'll not push or force you beyond your desire. But one thing must be clear before you start. You must try. You can't stop at the first hint of pain. You must make an effort. This man is no child. He's no boy. He's done things to women that you couldn't imagine. Not evil things. Things that the women liked once they were started. Keep that in mind, Gwen. Remember that this man is an expert, and you're a novice. Trust him, and he'll not harm you. Give him your trust and he'll make a complete woman out of you." She paused, licking her lips with satisfaction. "And don't say anything to Doug about this. We'll keep it a secret. All right?"
Gwen nodded. "What day?"
"Tomorrow. I'll come pick you up after I set a time with him."
Gwen rose and walked to the door. "I hope I don't disappoint him."
Val was all smiles. "Don't worry, you won't.
He'll be prepared. I'll explain everything."
Val watched Gwen walk to the car. Then she made a dash for the telephone to instruct her friend on Mrs. Gwen Stillman.