Chapter 18

AFTERWARD Janice was to wonder how she managed to endure what followed. Hatred, she decided, could be as strong a motivation as love. She wanted to see Greta Ransome debase herself.

She submitted stiffly to Greta's kisses and caresses-even lay down with Greta in the enormous bed in that bizarre room. She knew no sensation other than mild revulsion as she watched Greta's excitement mount and waited for her instincts to give her a cue when to stop. She felt vengeful for last night. All the friendliness Greta had aroused in her only short moments ago had vanished. She wanted to leave Greta hanging on the highest possible cliff.

So, almost detachedly, she endured. Even her vengefulness had an objective, unemotional quality-and contained an element of pity for the girl. She simply wanted to violate this body beautiful that had been used against her.

Greta stroked her gently and continued to kiss her.

"We must go on being friends-lovers," she said, her voice charged with passion.

"We can't possibly."

"You don't feel that way about me?"

"I-I don't know what I feel now."

But she knew. And she waited until Greta had worked herself into a frenzy and began the final erotic probings that would bring her fulfillment. Then, abruptly, she disentagled herself, fought free and scrambled out-of bed.

Greta stared at her, wide-eyed and almost in shock. Janice began to put on her clothes. Neither woman spoke.

At last Janice was dressed. Greta had calmed enough to speak almost normally.

"You're leaving? Leaving me-like this?"

Janice nodded. She turned and left the room.

Greta's laughter followed her as she descended the stairs. It had an oddly mirthless sound.

Janice walked more than a dozen blocks through the hot summer sun. She hurried, as though still needing to escape from something. For the moment she wanted no confinement, not even that of a cab. She needed air and cleansing sunlight.

At last she hailed a cab. As it pulled up at her address, she saw Jay Bolton get out of his car and wait for her on the sidewalk. She looked at him with mingled feelings.

"Janice, I've got to talk with you," he said urgently. "It's important-very important."

She stopped before him. "Please, Jay-not now."

How could she tell him that she intended to start divorce proceedings which, if Al contested them or sold the story to a scandal sheet, would drag the Bolton name through a sewer? How could she explain that, after her body had betrayed her in the arms of a virtual stranger last night, she could not bear even the thought of his hands on her?

When he simply stood rooted, she said, "I've got to be alone for a while. I've been badly shaken up by something. Please go away now. Come back later."

"All right. Plow soon shall I come?"

'What time is it now?"

"Three-thirty."

"Come at five," she said.

He looked at her with concern. "You're acting very strangely. What's happened to you?"

"Nothing I can talk about." She took her key from her purse. "Now go-please."

Entering her apartment, she went directly into the bathroom and started the water running in the tub. She took her second bath of the day, this time trying to wash away the memory of Greta's kisses and caresses. Afterward she dressed in fresh clothing from the skin out, combed her hair and touched up her lips, then went to the kitchen and fixed a drink.

She heard someone enter the apartment. She knew it was Al, since only he besides herself had a key. She strode into the living room, her face stiff with anger.

"What do you want here?"

Grinning at her, Al took a half-dozen snapshots from his jacket pocket and tossed them onto the coffee table.

"I just stopped by to leave these with you," he said. "Have a look. They'll change your mind about things."

She reached for the pictures, saw that they had been hastily developed. The photos were unretouched and some of the prints were still damp. Still, the pictures were of excellent quality. She recognized herself easily in them-making lesbian love with Greta Ransome.

She looked at Al with stricken eyes. "How were these taken?"

"There's a trick mirror," Al said, relishing the situation. "You can see through it from the other side. Take pictures through it, too. Mike took these. He arranged for Greta to get you there and perform with you. He has more like them. And we'll make use of them if you go into divorce court and ask for a decree on the grounds that I involved you in wife-swapping. I'll start divorce proceedings of my own and introduce those pictures as my grounds for divorce. Now you know, baby."

Furious, she tore the obscene pictures into small fragments and threw them onto the coffee table.

"Al, you sink lower and lower," she said fiercely. "You're beneath contempt. I've told you I want a divorce-and I no longer care who gets hurt. Use all the pictures-anything you like. Just stay out of my life."

"You've really got a mad on, haven't you?" he said. He went to the door, opened it, looked at her. "How's all this going to sit with Jay Bolton?"

"I haven't asked him. Now-go away."

He left, slamming the door.

Alone, Janice came close to tears. She suddenly realized that not only would she be doomed to loneliness for good-but gone too were her dreams of a home with children, perhaps of a home of any kind.

If everything blew wide open she would not even have a job.