Chapter 17
SHE slept as though drugged, awoke to daylight to find herself alone.
She lay for a moment, remembering and becoming deeply depressed. She forced herself to face the truth that she had long avoided. Al hated her, she thought bleakly-had never loved her. He was incapable of love. She saw her way clearly at last. She had to shed Al at any price-at the cost of whatever disgrace divorce entailed. She had to rid herself of him for good-for both her mental and physical health.
Whatever her physical reaction to Mike had been last night, her body now felt sick from it. It had been unnatural-and Al had engineered it.
She rose and took a bath, scrubbing herself vigorously. She felt soiled. Afterward she returned to the bedroom and the sight of the rumpled bed offended her. She stripped it and made it up with fresh linen. She dressed, put on a blouse, skirt and flats, and ran a comb through her hair. She did not bother with make-up. She did not want to see herself in the mirror, even to apply lipstick.
She went into the kitchen and filled the percolator, thinking that a cup of hot, black coffee would make her feel better. She was in physical discomfort as well as mental anguish. She had a hangover headache and a queasy feeling in her stomach. A sound from the living room took her there and she found Al sprawled-naked-on the couch. He had just awakened and was gazing at her blearily. His nakedness offended her. She thought it obscene.
Fury swept through her and she yelled, "Get dressed and get out! I can't stand the sight of you!"
"Now, honey," he said, sitting up and looking abused. "Don't act like that. It was all in fun. I just wanted to share it with you. You don't know what you've been missing."
"I know now," she retorted. "Oh, how I know. You sent him to me while you had her here. Al, I don't ever want to see you again."
He looked startled. "Jan, you're being unreasonable."
"I'm through with you. Through, do you hear?"
His clothes lay on the floor in an untidy heap. He began to dress, watching her uneasily.
"I mean it," she raged on. "I'm getting a divorce. And I don't care what gets into the papers and whom it hurts. When I tell about my own husband making me an unwilling partner in the wife-swapping that's going on in this town, I'll have no trouble getting free of you."
"My God, Jan-you wouldn't do-"
"It's what you threatened to do. Only now I can paint you as black as a man has ever been painted."
"You'll be involving some of the best people in town. There'll be an awful scandal. The newspapers-"
"That's what I want. I want the whole world to know everything we both have done."
She turned and ran from the living room, went to her bedroom and locked herself in. She wanted to cry. But her hurt was too great, too confused for tears.
She ventured back into the living room half an hour later. Al was gone. She had calmed down a little and now the prospect of doing what she had threatened dismayed her. Still, she had to divorce Al. She had no idea of how to go about it. She could not ask Jay to involve himself-although he probably would be involved. But a girl at the office had recently obtained a divorce. Janice would talk to her.
Even though the prospect terrified her, she felt a measure of relief for having made her decision. Somehow she would survive.
Her telephone rang shortly after twelve o'clock. Her impulse was to ignore it, for she was sure that the caller was either Al or Jay-and she wanted to talk to neither. She was sick of men-and disgusted with sex. But the phone kept ringing until she did answer.
The voice at the other end was a woman's.
"Jan, this is Greta. Please, dear, don't hang up on me. I must talk with you."
Confusion assailed Janice. She resented the dark-haired girl for her part in what had taken place last night-but at the same time she was pleased to hear from Greta. Perhaps Greta, too, had been trapped by her husband's machinations and lacked the strength of will to escape.
"I won't hang up, Greta. What do you want to talk about?"
"Last night and this morning," Greta said. "Al has been here and told Mike about how you feel. They're both terribly upset. I decided to call you-and tell you we've something in common."
"What?"
"I don't want to discuss it over the telephone. Can you come over here? You shouldn't be there alone-brooding. Come and be with me. The men have left."
"I don't know that I feel up to being with anybody, Greta."
"We need each other, Jan. Take my word."
"Well, all right."
"Come right away. Take a cab." Greta gave an address. "Hurry, darling."
"I will," Janice said.
She knew an odd, hopeful excitement. To talk to a woman who knew intimately what had happened last night, who could tell her what sort of man Mike Ransome was, might help her confusion.
Half an hour later a woman wearing a maid's uniform admitted Janice to an old but handsome house.
"Mrs. Ransome is in the sitting room upstairs, Mrs. Kirby," the woman said. "Go right up. It's to the left along the hallway."
Climbing the carpeted stairs, Janice was aware of the stately atmosphere of the house. The Ransomes lived on a luxurious scale. She found Greta in a sitting room much better furnished than her own living room. In one corner was a bar, in another a color television set. Greta had been watching television. She rose and turned off the set. She wore green lounging pajamas and gold slippers.
"Darling, I'm so glad you came," she said, placing her hands on Janice's shoulders and kissing her on the mouth.
Janice drew back, feeling that the dark-haired girl carried her friendliness too far-made it too intimate. Still, there had been a sincerity in Greta's greeting that warmed her.
"A drink?" Greta asked. "I could do with one-and so could you, I think."
Janice nodded. "I do need one."
Sitting in that pleasant room, sipping the drink Greta had given her, Janice found herself relaxing. She knew Greta Ransome hardly at all, yet felt very close to her. The direct affection Greta had shown a moment ago-Janice's vague recollection of Greta's helpfulness last night-and the fact that Greta must be suffering from her husband's behavior, all made a bond between Janice and the dark-haired girl. Al had probably forced himself on Greta last night.
Greta said, "You won't really divorce Al, will you?
You're upset now and will see things differently when you're calmer, won't you?"
Janice shook her head emphatically. "I won't change my mind. What happened last night-was unspeakable."
"Men are beasts, I agree."
"Some, anyway."
"Mike is wonderful, really, except for this one obsession."
"He wants other men's wives, you mean?"
Greta shook her head. "It's more complex than that. Mike has to have variety in sex. It's not that he doesn't love me, though."
"How can you believe he loves you when he has other women?"
"You became involved with another man, I understand," Greta said, "in spite of the fact that you still thought yourself in love with Al."
"That's true. But I was wrong." She studied Greta. "Did Al force you last night-or did you let him take you as-as part of the partner swap?"
"Darling-I didn't fight him, if that's what you mean. I couldn't stay married to Mike-and not play his game. Does that shock you?"
"Yes-it does."
Greta said, "You're probably doing the right thing in planning to divorce Al. You're just not the sort of woman who can adapt to extramarital sex. And yet-you've indulged."
"I've already admitted that."
Greta said softly, "Last night when we kissed-I felt very deeply about you. Did you feel the same way about me?"
Embarrassed, Janice said, "I-I was pretty drunk."
"I'd like us to be good friends. Under the circumstances, we should be. Neither of us is happy with our relationship with men. I'd like to be your lover, Jan."
Janice lowered her eyes, stared at the drink she held.
Greta's frankness appalled her and what she suggested was, of course, unthinkable. But suddenly Janice was curious. How involved were the ramifications of this strange set of which Al had become a member? Perhaps, to fight him effectively, she should learn more.
She looked up. "So that's what your friendliness is."
Greta said, "Not entirely. Have you ever experienced a woman's love?"
"Not really," Janice said. "When I was a teen-ager-another girl and I did some experimenting. It wasn't very satisfying."
"Very young love is never satisfying," Greta said. "Love is an art. One must have both talent for it and experience at it." She set her drink on the coffee table, got up from her chair. Holding out a hand, she said, "Come with me. You won't be disappointed, I promise."
Janice gave her hand to the other young woman and let herself be drawn to her feet. Greta led her from the sitting room. Janice accompanied her without protest into a bedroom with an oriental decor. Both the room and Greta's attitude had a disrupting effect on Janice. She fought it-there was always time to escape, to say no. The outsized bed was already neatly opened.
Janice stifled her aversion, let Greta embrace her, kiss her lightly.
"Let me undress you as I did last night."
"Greta, I don't feel right about this."
"You will in a moment, darling," Greta said: "Trust me, and I'll make you forget Mike and what he did to you."
She quickly removed Janice's dress and slip. After laying them aside, she unhooked and pulled off her bra. Janice placed her hands over her breasts, and Greta, seeing that she was embarrassed, removed the jacket of her pajamas. Now also nude from the waist up, she posed without a trace of embarrassment.
"Now we're on equal terms," she said, smiling. "Look at me, darling. Tell me that you think I'm attractive."
"Of course, I do," Janice said.
This much she could honestly admit. Greta was lovely. Janice stared in fascinated appraisal at the body Al had possessed last night-the beauty for which Al had traded his wife to another man.
Janice found herself loathing it.