Chapter 3
"Nooooooooooo!" Adrian, alone in her bedroom, twisted in mortal agony, beads of perspiration dotting her satin forehead. She felt hot and cold at once and her breath was shallow and labored. Weakly, she sat up, her heavy bosom heaving. The nightmare lived with her . . . that horrible-wonderful night when Wade Collins had released her. She had slumped, spent and sated and he had kissed her tenderly on the forehead as if to soothe a frightened child. "This was only for openers . . . " he had said.
Now Wade Collins, mad man Wade Collins was in her house in the next room injecting venom into her marriage. What could he possibly want from her that he hadn't already sampled? Something deep within her belly tingled lewdly in answer to that.
The last dying rays of sunlight were casting deeply lurking shadows in the cool Wedgewood bedroom when the door to the chamber creaked open and footsteps, silenced by the carpet, shuffled towards her. Adrian's hand flew to her mouth and she let out a little cry of fear as the dark shadow stepped closer, the bathroom's yellow light illuminating half of the shadowed face.
"My God, hon . . . it's only me." The mattress sagged under Jack's weight as he reached out and hugged her trembling body. Her lush milky breasts mashed against his muscular chest, her nipples still hard from remembrance. "Hon.. . you look like you had a nightmare. It's going to be all right." He held her shoulders firmly at an arm's stretch and, cupping her dimpled chin in his hand said, "Good news . . . we're going to Phoenix . . . all expenses paid. Your old man takes pretty good care of you."
She looked at him blankly, mascara smudges creating clown-like circles under her pale green eyes. "Wh-what?" Tiny furrows of despair wrinkled her satin forehead.
"Listen, honey. This Collins fellow is really knocked out by my ideas on promoting his Golden Acres property in Phoenix. He wants us to go . . . tomorrow."
"Oh . . . " she looked away, a put-wrenching pain twisting her pretty features.
"Come on, baby! It's my big chance to get in with the money-makers. Christ, we'll be millionaires! Stick with me, kid . . . "
"That's wonderful . . . " she mumbled. "Just wonderful."
Wade had made few changes in the five years since Adrian had flown with his shady friends in his Lear jet. Two of the twelve seats had been removed and the space filled with a stereo sound system and video machine. Ray Havens was still the pilot and the cracked bathroom mirror had not been replaced.
Adrian sat starchly in her seat, watching her husband fuss over Wade's obvious success. His solicitous attitude irritated her and she spied a weakness and greed in him she didn't know existed. She tried to soothe her defenses by concentrating on the flat square planes of Texas prairie under the jet's wing, while a recently employed bodyguard, Chet, sat smoking a cigarette across the aisle from her and stealing admiring glances at the stretch of naked thigh where her skirt had hiked up. A tough looking sandy haired man with gnarled knuckles, he was well and conservatively dressed in a Brooks Brothers suit and paisley tie. Only once had they exchanged glances, and she had averted her eyes immediately . . . his knowing lopsided grin too much company at a moment like this.
A cigarette would help pass the time, but she had no matches. Gently, she tapped her husband on the shoulder, interrupting him in mid-sentence. "Oh . . . sure . . . " he flicked his lighter, holding it at the tip of her cigarette. Through the lighter's hot orange flame Adrian's eyes, glowing like fireflies on a June night, glared burning with hatred, and raised momentarily to stare into the steely cold ones of Wade Collins. Why . . . ? she silently implored. Defeat shadowed all hopes for explanations. How could one talk sensibly with a depraved maniac such as Wade? One had only to wait for the next attack and defend oneself feebly. Wade never lost.. . except when he had lost Adrian.
A blue cloud of smoke burst through her rouged lips as she turned her head to glare through the stinging sunlight at the flatlands below. If he hated her so much, why was he going to all this trouble to ruin her marriage when one bullet would do the job cheaply, efficiently and quickly. Did he really believe she would come crawling back and beg for the debauched life he had introduced her to? She remembered those long weekends at his retreat in the Rocky Mountains and she shivered with shame and self degradation.
Jack was a fine man . . . thoughtful and tender, idealistic and faithful. Never forgot a birthday, an anniversary . . . an adequate lover. She'd met him on the tennis courts when Wade was away on 'business' in Saudi Arabia. Theirs was a hurried affair . . . lots of action packed into a weekend, and she decided to skip off, start her life on greener grounds, get away from the rottenness choking her. Wade didn't want her all the time anyway.
Now . . . years later, she was back on the plane heading for Phoenix . . . like a re-run of an old soap opera. To outwit Wade was impossible; a good defense was her only hope. I might have to kill the ugly bastard . . . She bit her lower lip unconsciously, her eyes squinting against the piercing, blinding sun.
Dealing with an insane genius was no game of monopoly. Out of the two hundred and twenty million people in the United States, he had traced her down. But why involve Jack in this sordid mess? The key to his madness seemed to lie in that question. Without turning her head, she listened to their conversation, painfully aware of Chefs accusing stare.
Against her own rules, she turned to study
Wade's plaster-of-paris executive smile. At first glance, one would mistake him for a responsible executive, a man who paid his parking tickets, lived a decent life.
With a cold shiver, she remembered some of his friends. The oily smelling Arabs from Saudi Arabia with bulbous noses and disgusting lust for a flashy Western life style.. . not to mention their Medieval attitude towards women. And contrasted to that was Joe, a rather mysterious guest who didn't seem to fit into the jigsaw puzzle of debauchery. His tall, rugged looks and sandy hair made him a misfit. He had witnessed Adrian's star role in "Zoo Story," one of Wade's sexual masterpieces.
Clearly, her life was on the line . . . her past experiences with Wade and company hanging before the eye of her memory like so many chapters in a dime novel. Coming to Phoenix was giving in, but Jack had insisted, saying it wouldn't look good for her to refuse Collins' invitation when it involved their economic future. Ice water seemed to flow through Adrian's veins. Somehow, she would free herself from his poisonous touch. God. . . what did he want of her?
Time unveiled some answers. They landed in an airport south of Phoenix, and Wade's private limousine chauffeured them to the Hilton. Jack irritated her with his popping eyes and whistles. "Wow! That Collins character sure had good taste!
Christ, I wish I would have met him sooner, baby!"
Adrian's temper was growing short.. . the first sign of fear. "Yeah. . . would have been great, huh?" she smiled lopsidedly, trying to ignore his raving ignorance. What kind of simpleton had she married?
"I think we're going into business together," he beamed, toying with the loose change in his pockets.
"So that's it!" Wade wanted Jack, too! But why?
"Miami is crawling with real estate brokers, and he picks me. That's quite an honor." He turned, gloating, expecting to see a smile on her face. His smile faded to angered hurt and injured pride, and he turned on her. "You don't care about my business! . . . all I'm asking for is your support." Jack drew a deep dejected sigh. "I guess you should have married somebody like Wade Collins who's already wealthy. Is that what you want?" Red, angry blotches were rising through his deep tan.
"Noooooooooo that's not what I want, darling!" She shook her head emphatically as heavy sobs rasped from her chest, making her breasts jounce and ripple voluptuously.
"What do you want, Adrian?" Jack hissed sharply. "Every time things start going well for me, you break down. My God, woman, what do you want from me?"
At his biting words, Adrian threw herself on the bed and buried her makeup smudged face in her lovely hands. "I.. . I want for us to be happy like we used to be." Her chin quivered pathetically. "I don't want to move to Phoenix . . . I like Miami . . . "
Jack's nostrils flared. "Well," he started, sucking in his breath, making his chest swell. "I'll tell you what Adrian . . . I am going to take care of number one this time . . . if I have to move to Phoenix, I'll do it without you!" A pause, then he leaned over, his hot angry breath blasting across her frozen features. "You acted like a scared little girl in the plane today. Christ, you didn't mutter a single civil word to Collins . . . after he's treated us to this . . . " he spread his hands, his eyes roving over the sun-drenched hotel suite at the top of the Hilton. ". . . and what thanks did you give him? Nothing! You didn't even goddamned say goodbye."
"But.. . I . . . you don't under-"
"Oh, I understand, Adrian. I understand very well." His eyes were bulging from his head now. "Some day I.. . "
Adrian raised her head, her green eyes squinting with contempt. Should she tell him about she and Wade? That would shut him up! "You don't know anything about this . . . Wade Collins, and already you're about to throw away our life together for some . . . gangster!" She'd almost said it.
Jack shook his head nonplussed, his voice softer. "I was feeling kinda bad about leaving you alone tonight while I go out on the town with Wade and his friends . . . but after this . . . " He shook his head disconcertedly.
Adrian was incredulous. Already Wade was separating them. "You're going to leave me alone in this hotel room while you go out with him?" Long curling eyelashes blinked over high Armenian cheekbones, and her mouth twisted in contempt. "Go ahead and walk out that door.. . but don't come back!"
Her husband snickered. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you had a thing for Collins . . . I've seen the look on your face." Turning on his heel, he stomped out of the room, banging the door shut behind him with a force that sent a Renoir print crashing to the floor.
In a blur of motion she bolted the door, slumped back down on the bed and lit a cigarette to calm her nerves; but it only made her dizzy so she opted for a healthy shot of scotch up neat that burned a blazing path to her stomach. It bolstered her spirits and numbed her brain. Time dragged on, and the blazing Arizona sun headed for the West, sinking slowly into the sandy foothills beyond, taking with it the scorching temperatures . . . and Adrian's composure.
To drag her mind off her misery, she turned on the television station, tucked her legs up under her in the chair and with empathetic agony watched a hapless young girl being attacked and dragged off in a car, screaming, tires screeching. Adrian sucked in her breath. Would Wade Collins' men do the same to her? Next to her elbow, the telephone jangled and hesitantly, her red lacquered fingertips reached for the receiver and snatched it up. "Yes.. . ? "
"Adrian . . . " a woman's voice purred.
That voice.. . where? "Carmen! My God, it's been so long I didn't recognize your voice! How've you been?" No mention of Wade . . . yet.
"Just fine and dandy . . . same old stuff." She sounded half apologetic.
Adrian asked the obvious: "How did you know I was in town? Where did you get my number, for crying out loud?" It was a moot point, really, and Carmen conceded to that.
"You know . . . our old friend.. . ? " The tone of her voice hinted at something unasked, unspoken, merely intimated and slurred over.
"No way, Carmen, don't bother to ask . . . " Adrian's voice turned icy, deliberately unreceptive.
A pause, then a softer, "I can't blame you. I did you no favors when I introduced you to Wade . . . sorry, kid." She said in a bitter half-laugh.
Wasn't it a bit late for apologies? But holding grudges never did anyone any good; besides, Carmen was a likable woman. "That's okay, Carmen. Nobody twisted my arm . . . "
Soft, whispering muffled words came over the phone. "What, Carmen?"
"I said somebody's going to be twisting more than my arm if you won't see me . . . tonight."
Adrian grew frantic. "For God sakes, Carmen, pack your things and split! Don't be a masochist! He doesn't own you . . . "
A weary, hoarse laugh that hinted at too many cigarettes, late nights and" booze over the years crackled in Adrian's ear. "Look who's talking, Adrian. You're back . . . he found you. Besides, I'm not sure I'm ready to leave."
The mattress slumped under Adrian's weight and her knuckles turned white, wrapped around the receiver. 'Tell him I saw you and that the answer is no. I won't..
"Adrian . . . I thought of that. Chefs standing outside the phone booth . . . please?! After all the crap we've gone through in the past, we're still buddies aren't we?" she asked pathetically, pleadingly.
Adrian heaved a heavy sigh. "Okay.. . but Jack'll be coming home, so make it quick."
Five years is a long time and even under duress, Adrian wanted to look her old self. The smack of her hairbrush hitting the vanity chorused with a knock on the door.
Carmen stood there smiling tightly. "Hello, Adrian. You look fantastic!" she gushed.
Wrinkle lines had etched around Carmen's brown eyes in the past five years and she appeared haggard, worn, like an old pair of shoes, though her comforting disposition hadn't changed. Her figure, as Adrian well knew, was still an hour glass of symmetry and she wore the same heavy blue eye shadow and false eyelashes and a plunging neckline dress that pushed her bosom out and up like a tight French corset. She reeked of expensive perfume.
Wade had been working on her, breaking her down judging from her weak and abject visage, in the way she talked, in the wet submissive look in her eyes, the lewd tone of her raspy, sexy voice.
She accepted a scotch readily and they sat in the room sipping slowly, each studying and eyeing the other, looking for weaknesses, bendable defenses. What did Carmen want?
The answer came easily. "Wade is giving a party for some rich friends from Saudi Arabia who want to buy into his business and he wants only experienced girls . . . "
"No."
"Adrian, be sensible . . . " Carmen sounded irked. "I said no!"
Carmen pulled in a lungful of air, raising her ballooning bosom three full inches. "Have it your way, kid . . . but I hope you're prepared for the consequences." Carmen's amber eyes turned one shade darker and she couldn't look her old friend in the face when she said, "Wade's pretty influential in the real estate business, you know, and he could make it pretty tough on somebody just starting out-"
So that's it! Adrian withered. The ultimatum was clear enough. Could she sink back to that dark abyss of debauchery . . . the one she's struggled to extricate herself from? Her involvement with Wade hadn't stopped at that damnable chair . . . unfortunately. Parties, drunken brawls, really, had been a way of life for her. She'd acted like the paid whore she was, entertaining at Wade's parties . . . sucking cocks indiscriminately, making love with casual nonchalance to faceless men who used and abused her, running down her self esteem and making self respect and pride anachronisms in her life. At times, those experiences had been the most exciting thing she had ever known and, despite herself, those lurid memories sparked a twinge, a deep surge of dark desire.
"He's going to buy up the property bordering Jack's senior settlement in Miami and under price him to put him out of business. That piece of property won't be worth more than two hundred grand. Sure you won't reconsider?" Adrian swallowed hard and stared at her friend's painted features, reading something perfidiously cruel and frightening. "You like being Wade's whore, don't you, Carmen?" Her eyes cored into her friend's blue shadowed ones.
Carmen licked her painted lips. "I like it.. . I love it! He's insane and pretty nasty at times, but I love it!"
Adrian let out a sigh; she knew exactly what Carmen meant. Wade's charisma had the effects of injected aphrodisiacs, the power to leave you helpless with a craving for more. And now this viper was about to ruin Jack's business . . . bankrupt them. Adrian bit her lip.
For a moment, Carmen looked rueful. "Seems I do you nothing but dirt, honey . . . but someday I'll make it up to you." The threads of morality left in this battered woman knotted her face torturously. "Goodbye Adrian . . . Wade will be in touch with you."
The door closed softly and for a dazed moment, Adrian stood staring at it, her heavy breasts heaving with pent up emotion. Wade held all the aces.. . again. She needed an ally . . . anything to fight him with. But what? She poured herself a drink to bolster her spirits and decided in that lucid moment to arrange a meeting with Wade. That would be simple; the rest would be difficult, if not fatal.
Out of the corner of her chartreuse eye she saw the door knob twist. Were they coming to get her already?! Jack opened the door, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Hi, baby . . . " His eyes were red as road maps and his knees looked weak. He was drunk.
"How did it go?"
"Fan-tas-tic! we're gonna be millionaires in a month, honey . . . you jes' stick with ol' Jack." He threw his arms around her and hugged her tight, kissing her with cognac and cigar breath that grew more shallow as his erect manhood jabbed into her stomach. He sucked on her lips, his kisses heated with passion while his hands reached under the tie belt robe she wore and with one jerk, slid it down over her shoulder, down over the milky globe of her voluptuously swollen breast with its brown puckered nipple. He cupped it, raising it to his mouth while his other hand sleeked down over her naked thigh to graze over the tendrils of her pussy curls.
Adrian's defenses melted as he backed her down onto the bed and let his tongue snake from one berry nipple down over her smooth abdomen to tease in the jewel of her navel . . . then down, tantalizing downward to the pouty lips of her cunt.
Adrian's burgundy lacquered fingertips spread out in search for the tab to his zipper as that too familiar wanton streak of sensuality overcame her, reducing her to a mass of quivering naked flesh begging for fulfillment.