Chapter 1
Greg watched as she moved about the room, graceful as ever, beautiful, a gorgeous woman. He licked his lips and swallowed, wishing he had the courage to say to her what his body was urging him to say to her.
As she flitted from dressing table to closet to the bedside stand, Karen occasionally looked over her shoulder and smiled at her husband. He smiled back as he sat on the side of the bed, half dressed, wondering what the hell was wrong with him. A year ago he would have done as he pleased. He would have locked the door and they would have had their fun.
But those days were flitting into the past. Now, when his beautiful blond wife tells him she's going to spend the day downtown shopping, he merely nods and swallows his pride-and his building desire.
He'd awakened after a good night's sleep, pleased that it was Saturday and that he had nothing to do. Of course he'd brought some legal work home with him. How else was a young lawyer going to get ahead at Remington and Edison? Those old bastards judged a man by the weight of his brief case, not by how much weight he carried inside his head.
Still, he had a free day and, especially, a free morning. He'd wanted to spend it with Karen, not shopping downtown but in their apartment. Perhaps in the front room where they could look down on the glittering blue pool and, farther out, the white fringe of beach and the deep blue of the sea beyond. Yes, this view cost them a pretty penny, but they knew that they weren't living in Dubuque when they looked out of it. They knew they were a part of the swinging Southern California set.
Greg's already long face grew longer. But they weren't much for swinging. In their three years of marriage Karen and he had worked hard and played little. They wanted a home of their own, they wanted to start a family, and that didn't leave much time or money for other things.
He looked up as Karen sat at her dressing table again. She wiggled her shoulders to seat her breasts into the tight bra she'd just slipped into. It was a shame she had to wear a bra. Some of the women in the office did not, and some of them should have. But Karen's breasts had no sag and the bra only held them in. Still, this was good. Other men might get ideas about Greg's wife and he didn't want that. Not that Karen would ever be unfaithful, but he didn't want anybody to make any passes by mistake. Karen would be embarrassed because she found it difficult to make other people embarrassed.
Yes, in the front room they could make love, as Karen always called it. Greg called it that, too, in his own mind, but he allowed himself to use rougher language around other men so they wouldn't think he was too square. Yes, the living room, perhaps right on the floor. In the year they'd been in California, in the year Greg had been with the law firm, they'd picked up a lot of inhibiting habits. The floor was out. Only the bedroom would serve now, and not often enough at that.
He sighed as he looked at her square shoulders and her straight back. That back with the delightful lower curve. He had the urge to march over to her and run his hands down that back and into her pants, but he did nothing about it. It wouldn't work. They were both too inhibited now. She'd made her plans to go downtown for the day and there was no turning back. Perhaps later, when their chores were finished for the day, they could return to the bedroom.
But that thought wasn't giving Greg any relief now. He wanted sex. He wanted Karen in the worst way. He watched as she stood and turned in front of the mirror. Then she went to the closet and took a little summer dress off the hook. She lifted it over her head and it settled around her throat, clinging to the peaks of her breasts.
Greg was making a peak of his own. He looked down at his crotch. Yes, his pajamas were rising. His penis was making a tent down there. Even this embarrassed him and he pushed it down between his legs as he crossed them. At another time he would have shown it to Karen and she would have come to him at once.-
But now...Christ. He thumped his fist on the bed and she turned, still wiggling the dress down over her hips. "What was that?"
"Nothing," he muttered. "Just a moth. I think I got him."
She was still pulling the dress down over her thighs as she came toward the bed. Thank God Karen loved to wear minis. With her legs it would be a crime if she didn't. She'd often confessed that she felt embarrassed about showing off her body, but Greg had insisted that it was her duty to look her best. So she still wore her minis and the looks she got on the street told Greg that his wife looked very good.
Not that he wanted her to arouse other men, but he did feel a pride in having a beautiful wife. That long blond hair, blue eyes, her body that was thin but not fragile. She wasn't terribly muscular, but more willowy, a bit taller than most women but lighter in weight than most. She would have made an excellent fashion model, but of course such a career would be out of the question. They both knew what went on in fashion showrooms between models and buyers.
He looked up at her as she stood over him. God but her clothes fit her wonderfully. The dress was tight without being obscene. It clung to her breasts as though the material were wet and it was smooth over her belly and hips. Her thighs were a slim promise and when the high hemline ended the promise was reality. Those beautiful legs, the impossible waist, slim but mature hips, those breasts. And that face, that golden hair, those eyes that could be glacial ice or a warm blue.
"You look kind of funny," she murmured, leaning over him. "You're not angry because I'm going downtown, are you? I do have a lot of shopping to do, including some things for you. You want that saw blade and your underwear is a shambles. I couldn't handle..."
"I know," he replied, holding up his hands. "You work all week and this is your only chance to get things done for us. I appreciate that, honey. You go ahead."
She looked at him for a long time and he felt her eyes slide up and down his body. Maybe she saw the bulge between his legs and maybe she didn't. She sucked on her lower hp for a moment and then she smiled.
"I know, I'll come home early, a couple of hours before dinner." Then she actually blushed. "We could, um...have a little party, just we two."
He grinned at her and his desire grew. He wanted to blurt: Fuck downtown and fuck this afternoon. I want it now. But naturally he didn't say that. "Sure. That sounds wonderful. I'll have my chores done by then, too. I've got that garage door to fiddle with."
"Wonderful." She leaned down quickly and brushed her lips across his cheek.
Why were they so inhibited? For the hundredth time he pondered the question. He was making it all right at work and Karen was getting along well at the telephone company. Christ, who couldn't get along with the telephone company? They had all kinds of benefits and job security.
He thought he knew the answer. In three years of marriage they hadn't varied their routine. It started out as a wonderful routine and their sexual pleasure was thorough and durable. It was almost constant, too, he thought as he smiled. Karen was back at the dressing table, fussing with her hair, and she couldn't see him. But he watched as she lifted her arms and her nipples lifted with them.
But in three years they hadn't progressed. They needed variety in their routine. They needed some fresh approaches. He'd even thought about talking to some the men at work about it, but that would be too much for him to handle. He would feel like a fool reading a book. That was kid stuff, for newlyweds.
He'd noticed his eye roving more. There were a few good-looking girls at work, but Greg was only a looker. He had no intention of cheating on Karen. He didn't want to and he never would. She was too much the total woman for him: gorgeous, loving, intelligent, sensitive and, naturally, totally faithful. She could no more cheat than he and it had never been the slightest problem.
Not that they hadn't had their chances. At least two other couples had not-so-gently suggested that the Eastmans join them in swap parties. They'd been turned down flat. Naturally, Karen could have almost any man she wanted and, as for Greg, he regularly drew looks from the women at the office and in the cafe across the street, at city hall, almost anywhere. At six feet, 185 pounds, with dark hair and a collar ad profile, he found women attracted to him.
Karen had finished with herself and she presented herself for his inspection, doing a little turn that made her skirt fly.-"All right?" she said over her shoulder, her voice slightly saucy. He knew she was thinking about her promise for that afternoon.
He got up and put his arms around her, but she pushed him away at once. "Please don't muss me," she giggled. "Which means keep away or I won't want to go downtown at all. I think that's what you'd really like."
He sighed. "You look beautiful and you'd better hurry home or I'll come after you. You sure you don't want to hold that party now?" He felt foolishly bold making the suggestion.
She looked sad. "I'm sorry, darling. I told the woman at the store that I'd be there at ten, when they open. She's holding a wonderful new skirt and blouse outfit for me.
He turned away and went to the window, looking down at the grounds between their apartment house and the street. The pool was cool blue and empty, sheltered from the street by a high concrete block fence. He would take a cool dip after lunch to keep the steam down between his legs.
Then he noticed the pool wasn't empty. A head popped up right in its center. He recognized it as belonging to the woman next door, in 5-B. What was her name? Taylor. Yes, something Taylor, the older woman with the two kids. Older, maybe, but she didn't look it. He could only guess her age because she had teen-aged children.
As he watched, the Taylor woman stroked easily the length of the pool and back. Then she scrambled up a chromium ladder and shook herself on the concrete like a puppy. There was a lot to shake because she was a large woman, almost as tall as Greg, solid, fit, built like a stainless steel statue. She wore an overmatched white bikini that couldn't begin to cover her curves.
Greg turned away fast. He was doing too much looking. "No," he snapped, "we mustn't keep the lady waiting at the store. It's all right to keep me waiting, though, isn't it?"
"Aw, honey..
"Don't aw, honey me," he replied, his voice still sharp. "Go on, meet your friends. I'll wait my turn."
Color was rising out of Karen's lovely bodice, creeping over the tops of her breasts and up her throat to her cheeks. "Well, if you're in such a hurry why don't you just tear off my clothes and throw me down on the bed? Isn't that the way most animals would do it?"
"Relax," he said, his voice softer. "Go on, now. I'll be right here when you get back. Don't let me be an old bear and spoil your day for you."
Her anger vanished but he knew they were both a bit hurt by the exchange. It wasn't the first spat they'd had that summer and, the way things were going, their mutual frustration would insure that it wouldn't be their last.
"You sure, honey?" She touched his cheek.
If he'd been more sure of himself he would have grabbed at her implied offer and, by sweet Christ, he'd have torn off her clothes and tossed her on the bed. He'd day-dreamed about it more than once and-he was ashamed to admit-the woman he'd torn the clothes off wasn't always Karen. But, once again, thoughts were a long way from overt action. His dreaming was harmless, Greg was certain.
"Yes, I'm sure." He leaned forward and she did, too. Their lips touched and held. He could feel a slight trembling in her. Good. That meant she still had the afternoon on her mind, that she'd be ready. With luck and concentration, they could click like they had in the good old days.
She picked up her purse and rummaged inside until she found her keys. Then she went to the bedroom door and he followed. She smiled down at him. "You'd better get some clothes on in case somebody comes to the door."
He chuckled. "Who would come to the door? But you're right, I can't go down to the garage like this."
"Why don't you just tell the landlord about it? It's his responsibility."
"Because I want the latch job done right," he said. He went with her to the front door, his ache stronger than ever. They kissed again, briefly, and then she was gone. He went to the large window in the living room and waited until he saw the little car pull out of the drive, from under the apartment house. It was sunny outside, a wonderful summer, but suddenly the house seemed cold and empty. They needed one another, all right, but something was wrong.
He sighed, but the sigh was halted in the middle. The neighbor was still in the blue pool below. She was seated on the concrete apron, preening herself. Greg watched in idle curiosity.
Mrs. Taylor was an Amazon, all right. She looked fit and certainly no older than thirty, although he again realized she had to be older than that. The white bikini clung to her like a second skin, and where the bikini wasn't the woman was a deep tan. It was a golden body, long and perfect, heavy in the breasts and firm in the thighs. Lots of power. The waist wasn't as thin as Karen's, of course, but it fit the rest of this giant's proportions perfectly.
Her hair was a sort of rust color. Not really red and not really blond. It seemed to be natural, but that was highly un-likely. Her facial features were strong and, even from two floors up, Greg could see the firm straight nose, the generous mouth with full red lips, the high cheek bones and eyes that might be green.
He grinned to himself. She was unreal in size and form, yet she was real. He let his mind dwell on her for a minute. Imagine being in bed with a machine like that.
He caught himself at once. He knew he'd been doing a lot of daydreaming lately, perhaps too much. That could lead to trouble that he didn't need. Nor want. He told himself once again that Karen was plenty of woman for him.
He turned abruptly from the window, but not before the Taylor woman left the pool. She disappeared under the apartment house and he saw her loping, long-legged stride for a few seconds before she was gone.
Greg returned to the bedroom and there he shucked out of his pajamas, went into the bathroom and began to brush his teeth. He looked dowfr at himself as he did so. His penis was halfway up and he wondered whether it was because of his anticipation of Karen later in the day or because of his thoughts about the redhead. Obviously, it had to be Karen.
He went back into the bedroom and pulled on a pair of undershorts, a faded pair of jeans and an old T-shirt. If he were going to be working in the garage he didn't want to mess up anything worthwhile. He also put on tennis shoes. Then he went to the kitchen and got his toolbox.
Outside he padded past the door of 5-B and down the stairs. Under the apartment house he went into the two-car garage area reserved for the Eastmans. There he examined the heavy door, which was a bit too loose. It would be his job to tighten the lugs on either side.
He set about his task, whistling gently through his teeth. His thoughts drifted back to Karen and he thought only about her as he worked. His chore went fast and in less than thirty minutes he had the job done. As he wiped his hands clean and put away his tools he was still thinking about his wife.
The perfect woman. Faithful, gorgeous, intelligent, loving, all the things he'd gone over before. But she wasn't so perfect that he was completely happy. Something was missing, but he refused to believe that it was Karen's fault. After all, if he'd insisted, she'd have remained home with him. She'd never turned him down when he wanted to go to bed.
Still, she wasn't coming around asking for it as much as she once had. On the other hand, he wasn't asking her for it as much, either. Perhaps they were both getting too old. Too old, when he was twenty-five and she was only twenty-three?
Ridiculous!
He was startled when the voice spoke so close to him, and he dropped his wrench on the concrete with a clatter.
"Hi, neighbor."
He looked up and saw her. It was the Amazon, the big redhead from 5-B. She was looking down at him, hands on her hips, a confident smile on her face.