Chapter 11

AL found himself talking a woman seriously for the first time in his life. Sex had variously represented to him kicks, a physical need or a chance to assert his masculinity. He had always regarded conventional love and fidelity with cynicism. He had been intrigued by the idea of partner-swapping as a new kind of fun and games-Greta had presented the idea in a new form, making it an expression of a kind of universal love. Al was not sure he understood her fully-but he gathered that, in a kookie way, Greta was giving to both herself and him a serious, perhaps even a desperate reason for what they both wanted to do.

He kissed her again. Once more he discovered that strange, forceful aliveness in her kiss, in the thrust of her tongue-as though the kiss itself were a sexual act He was caught up instantly in a tormenting eagerness to possess her, not only as a man takes a woman in the final phase of mating-before that came, he had to conquer, master her kiss. His mouth fought hers, jousting fiercely, and slowly he grew aware of the rest of her-the tightly twined arms, the sinuous body seeking his through motion, so that he was oddly conscious of her nakedness through his clothing and hers. The sensation was something he could not understand-yet he was in no rush to terminate it.

He was never sure afterward which of them lost the battle of the mouths-it seemed to continue as his clothes melted away under Greta's caressing hands and the thin garment she wore tore during his eager reach for her. Greta did not mind-her mouth continued its seeking and evidently liking the more of him it found.

Al discovered he was more being made love to than making love. He fought a curious sense of weakness stealing over him-but when he tried to manhandle Greta as he usually did women, he found a surprising combination of resistance and evasiveness in her. He also found, under the Chinese silk, a woman more delicately proportioned than any he had imagined-a dream of desire grown solid and graspable, yet retaining the elusiveness of a vision....

And then he had her. Their joining came so suddenly, so smoothly that Al was barely aware of his struggle's end. And what followed then was no struggle but a true oneness-Greta's arms, legs and body meshed with his so completely that no question of domination or mastery existed, or even of striving. He simply merged with her and she with him in mutual passion that flamed ever more brightly until it burned itself out in a consuming consummation....

Yet something had been missing, he sensed, and was reluctant to leave her.

At last she pushed him gently away from her. "That's it, lover. We've had it for now. Any more-and I wouldn't want Mike later."

"What's wrong with that?"

She sighed, smiling. "You'll have to learn."

"Damn it," Al said. Puzzlement made him angry. "Do you have to swing both ways? A dame like you? That's really the trouble, isn't it? You don't really want either Mike or me-you're queer."

Greta did not move or say anything instantly. But suddenly the look in her eyes stabbed at Al like a knife. It almost frightened him.

Then it vanished and Greta said quietly, "You should have stopped while you were ahead, Al. Maybe you've said too much-maybe you can't learn."

The phone beside the bed rang. Greta rolled over and picked up the receiver.

She listened briefly, "All right." She put the phone down, turned to Al. "It was Mike. He's starting for home soon. You'll have to leave."

"That's also in the rules? He knows I'm here-but I've got to be gone before he comes?"

"If you know what's good for you."

Al had recovered some of his buoyancy. "You are, baby." He leaned over to kiss her lips. "I will see you again soon, won't I?"

"It's up to Alice," she said. "And up to you."

"I'll be good," Al promised.

He ran a hand lightly over her body, got up and dressed quickly. Greta said nothing. She turned her back to him, lit a cigarette, smoked silently.

She did not answer him when he said good night. For her, he might have ceased to exist.

It was so he left her.

Crazy, he thought, driving Alice's car back to Alice's apartment. He felt confused-and in a way he was glad he was going to see her again. He was not used to being .kicked out of bed by women once they had accepted him. Alice was probably less kookie than Greta Ransome.

Janice? One thing, crazy as she was, she. was probably saner than both Alice and Greta combined. In the meantime-he was in this thing, having some kind of ball and in reach of big money. How he was going to get it, he did not yet know. He wanted to stay close to it-but one of these days he would drop around to see Janice. Maybe he could still bring her around to hitting Jay Bolton up for a decent job.

That would make the most sense of all-but if Janice wouldn't give in he still had a chance with Alice. Give him time and he would have her eating out of his hand.

He would make her want to divorce Bolton-for a big settlement. Somehow, he would swing it.

The doorman at Alice's building gave him a nod of recognition and what seemed a faint smirk as he entered the lobby and walked toward the elevators. Reaching Alice's door, he pressed the bell button and she opened for him at once. She was in her robe and slippers and held a drink in her hand. She had freshened herself up. Her hair was no longer tousled, nor her lipstick smeared.

After closing the door, she tilted her face for a kiss. He gave her one, slipping an arm about her waist She pressed against him.

"A drink?" she asked as they moved into the living room.

"I'll get it."

"Do," she said and went to sit on the sofa.

He went to the bar, got his drink, sat beside her. She worked silently on her drink. She seemed subdued. He thought she looked tired. The corners of her mouth drooped, and her eyes were underscored by bluish shadows.

Presently she asked, "How was Greta? Did you enjoy her?"

The discussion of one's other partner, he was learning, was a big deal in this game. Probably Mike and Greta were now discussing how he had found Alice and she Al.

Al said, "She was all right. I liked her fine."

"You're not very enthusiastic."

What were the rules here? Was he supposed to rave about Greta to Alice?

"Do I have to be?" he asked.

"If you want to be a part of my crowd, yes."

"The trouble with this sort of game is that a guy doesn't get enough of the dame he really wants."-

"Don't be such a one-woman man, darling."

"Okay, okay. Whatever you say."

"You and I still have a lot of night left."

"I wasn't sure," Al said. "A guy could get used to getting kicked out of a dame's bed-until he wouldn't even mind it." He took a pull at his drink.

Alice laughed, finished hers, got up from the sofa, held out a hand to him. He took it and she drew him to his feet. She led him to the bar, where she set down her glass and he left his unfinished drink. He followed her upstairs to her bedroom. The bed, the room, looked as if they had seen no use tonight.

Alice removed her robe and slippers.

Al said, "A guy could wear himself out dressing and undressing."

Making a face at him, she said, "Stop complaining. I'll bet Greta helped you. I will, too."

She darkened the room and Al stretched out on the bed. Alice undressed him. He wondered if he would be able to perform-if he even wanted more sex tonight.

He asked, "How was it with you and Greta?"

"Pleasant."

"You don't sound enthusiastic, either."

"I do what she wants for her sake more than mine."

"Well, how was it with Mike, then?"

"Yummy."

"Better than with me?"

"I'll let you know-later," she said, kissing him.

After that he responded to her mechanically, letting her carry the ball. She set about arousing him and soon succeeded.

Before yielding to his final urgency, she said, "When it's over, get dressed and go home. Don't talk. Don't do anything. I want to go to sleep at once."

"Will I see you tomorrow night?"

"No. I'm seeing Earl Somers."

"That jerk."

"Now don't be jealous. You'll make me angry."

"All right." He could not keep the sarcasm entirely from his voice. "Anything but that."

"Just don't try to own me." I wont.

"That's a good boy," she said. "I'll call you. Are you in the book?"

"I'm not staying at my apartment," he told her. He gave her his transient address and number. "Can't I call you?"

"No. I haven't yet decided that I want a permanent affair with you. You're a little too possessive." With that-she drew him to her.

All the next day Al had it on his mind that she was dating Earl Somers that night. The knowledge that she would let the anemic youth make love to her tormented him. He felt oddly excluded-besides suffering the unaccustomed agonies of a jealous lover, he envied Earl's access to Alice as part of her wealthy social set. The guy probably had a pile of his own, only needed Alice for kicks-and those she was all too capable of giving a man.

That evening Al felt lonely and lost. He decided to go to his own apartment. He sensed, as he let himself in, that Janice was not there. Her absence made him angry. For the first time he found himself jealous also of her affair with Jay Bolton-it seemed to be his night for feeling insecure and envious. His first thought was to wait until she came home-but that might mean he would be alone for hours. The prospect was unattractive.

He left the apartment, went to a bar and drank too much. He did not return to the apartment.

Alice did not call until late Saturday afternoon. She caught him at the lot. He still felt angry and, upon hearing her voice, he came very close to asking sarcastically if she had been unable to date anybody else.

"Are you free this evening?" she asked.

"That should be my question, shouldn't it?"

"Are you in a mood, darling?"

"I've missed you."

"It's only been two evenings."

"Did you spend both with that jerk?"

"If by that you mean Earl-yes, I did."

Al held his tongue, afraid he would say something to make her hang up. He had to stop being possessive, she had told him-what about Earl's possessiveness, which she evidently had suffered for two whole nights?

"Sure, I'm free, baby," he said. "I'm keeping myself free these days-just for you."

"Good," Alice said. "Come by at six-thirty. I have plans."

Her plans were not what Al had expected. She had reserved tickets at a summer theater a dozen miles from the city. He bought her cocktails and dinner at an inn near the playhouse, then sat through two hours of a drama that Al, who preferred the movies to the legitimate theater, found downright boring. It ended. Alice asked to be taken back to the inn's cocktail lounge.

The place was filling up. Alice and Al managed to find a vacant table. A waitress had just taken their order when a couple approached them.

The woman said, "Alice, what luck. There's not another table. You will share yours, won't you?"

Al got to his feet as Alice said, "Of course, Ginny. Do sit down. Hello, Clyde." And then, as the woman took one of the other two chairs there, Alice added, "Al-Dr. and Mrs. Bennett. Clyde, Ginny-Al Kirby."

Dr. Bennett offered his hand. "How are you, Kirby?"

His wife said, "Hello, Al."

Al acknowledged the introductions and sat down again as Bennett took the remaining chair.

Alice and Ginny immediately began discussing the play, which the Bennetts also had seen. The doctor brought out cigars. When Al declined the offer of one, Clyde lit up his own. While getting out a cigarette, Al looked at the two with a lively interest. He remembered Greta's having spoken of the Bennetts as being members of her inner group.

Clyde Bennett was gray at the temples, had handsome features, wore an air of self-importance. Al judged him to be at least fifty-but it was a youngish fifty.

Ginny was at least twenty years younger. She was a silver blonde. Her eyes matched her hair-they were a clear silver gray. As she talked animatedly with Alice, she let her gaze meet Al's frequently with open curiosity. Al did not need to wonder if Ginny Bennett was appraising him as a potential bed partner-he knew she was. He held her gaze, smiled at her. Her full lips parted in an answering smile. Without a word having passed between them, they understood each other. Al congratulated himself on having learned how to play the game.

Hell-it was the oldest game in the world. Not even the rules were new-they were simply formalized. The name of the game was cheating.

The play adequately discussed, Alice asked, "How was your trip to Florida?"

"Fun," Ginny said. "Real fun. The couple we went to meet turned out to be the nicest people." She glanced at her husband. "Didn't they, darling?"

"That they did," Clyde said, grinning.

"We stayed at their house the entire week," Ginny went on. "Juan was sweet and Elena simply divine. She's like Greta Ransome, you know. They're Cubans. He was a banker in Havana before they had to flee to this country."

Clyde said, "Ginny was having such a good time that the one week I could stay away from my office wasn't enough for her. She wanted to stay another."

"I begged him to let me," Ginny said, laughing. "Just another week, I pleaded. But he's such a monster."

"Perhaps I can make up now," Clyde said. He smiled at Al, then at Alice. "I've missed you, darling. And since Ginny feels she's had too much of me, perhaps your new friend wouldn't mind-shall we say, charming my wife?"

Al was no longer shocked by anything. "Of course not," he said, looking into Ginny Bennett's silver gray eyes.