Chapter 2
Quitting time.
Jo Ann heard the scraping of desk chairs and the shuffle of shoe leather as she arranged the contents of her make up kit on the brim of the washroom sink. It was the same sound she had been accustomed to hearing every day at five o'clock. Suddenly the office woke up and its plodding people came to life again. Dull life, Jo Ann reminded herself. For where were they going? Home to supper tables, dirty dishes and television sets. Hardly a reason to rush.
Not her, though. Brightening with a feeling of eager anticipation, Jo Ann pulled a cake of soap from a plastic bag and set it before her. As the other girls filed into the washroom for a quick make up change before facing the rush hour, Jo Ann pretended not to notice their expressions of unmasked curiosity at the sight of the half dozen cosmetic bottles she had taken out.
"Heavy date, huh, sweetie?" a chubby redhead remarked on her way by.
"You bet," Jo Ann snapped, smug with a comforting sensation of importance and self-esteem. Wouldn't they all just turn green with envy if they knew whom her date was with, Jo Ann thought. And she would gladly tell them, except for the promise she had made to Stan. He was sensible, of course, about not wanting rumors to fly around the office. But still, Jo Ann would have enjoyed viewing their surprise and envy when the girls found out she was seeing Mister Wyatt ... Sterling Record Company's most eligible bachelor.
Leaning forward over the sink, Jo Ann ran the warm water and worked a soft lather up over her face. Tonight, she must look her very best. Beneath her fingertips, she felt her stale make up dissolve and run, leaving in its wake an energetic freshness and newness, usually experienced only in the mornings. She would need all of her energy, too, Jo Ann reminded herself ... if only to keep one move ahead of Stan's roaming hands.
It seemed like forever before the last of the girls had gone and Jo Ann was alone in the room. Glancing once toward the door to make sure, she reached for the top button on her blouse and began to take off her office clothes.
The white cotton slid over her shoulders and Jo Ann looked down at the tops of her breasts that swelled above the lacy slip. Stan would love to get his hands in there, she thought, ignoring the blush that invariably accompanied such candidness. Soon, she told herself, unzipping her skirt and stepping out of it. Soon she would let him get his hands on everything...
The slip floated down to land atop her rumpled skirt on the floor and Jo Ann returned to the mirror to view her nearly naked body. Only her bra and panties remained to hide the smooth white flesh that she was so proud of. Jo Ann stared at the sight of her full, high breasts and tiny, nipped in waistline. No diets for her, she thought proudly. Her figure was just fine. Good enough for any man.
The warm water felt good on her arms and neck. Jo Ann rinsed the soap from her flesh and reached for the towel she had brought from home. Glancing at her watch, she moved faster, aware that she had only ten minutes to get dressed. It wouldn't do to keep Stan waiting. There were too many girls who would be more than willing to take her place at a moment's notice, if he got impatient.
As she unfastened the clasps over her back, Jo Ann felt her breasts fall free of their moist confinement, and she took a deep breath. She had never liked underwear and if not for the revealing outlines of tight blouses and sweaters, she wouldn't ever bother to wear any. Tossing the bra away with the rest of her discarded clothes, she reached down to the elastic hem of her panties and drew them downward.
The sensation of complete nakedness caused her to hesitate for a moment and regard her body in the mirror. How much longer would she have to remain a virgin, Jo Ann wondered, allowing her fingers to slip silently across the creamy roundness of her hips. As she touched herself, a tingling nervousness rippled through her body and compelled her hand downward. How many times had she thought about a man when she was naked, Jo Ann wondered. A man who would take her body and make it burst with the pleasure of fulfillment ... a man who would make sure that she'd never want again for that certain kind of loving that makes a woman complete...
Forcing herself to move, Jo Ann reached into her carry-all bag and pulled out the new black underwear she had bought to go with her dress. The soft lace bra cupped her breasts and lifted them high. Jo Ann inspected the peek-a-boo effect of the material for a moment before she moved to pull on the matching black panties. She felt a slow, hot throbbing in her breasts and knew that she had dallied too long with her thoughts about a man. She would have to hurry now or she would wind up trying to sate that uncomfortable need that crept up on her so often in the night.
The tight chiffon sheath slid over her breasts, around her hips and down, until it finally came to a snug fit about her body. Jo Ann zipped up the side of the dress and coaxed the neckline a little lower over the expanse of stark white flesh. Just enough to make herself look interesting without creating an open invitation. Stan would like that, she figured. He'd like it even better if there was no dress at all to get in the way ... but there would be time for that. And if Jo Ann could wait, so could he.
Running a comb through her honey-blonde hair, Jo Ann rearranged the simple style into one more fitting for evening wear. Satisfied that every wave was perfectly in place, she picked up her mascara and worked to bring out the softness and depth of the azure blue below her sleepy, heavy lids. A creamy coral lipstick completed the picture and Jo Ann tossed the make up happily back into the bag before opening a bottle of perfume. Finished at last, she dabbed a few extra drops beneath the top of her bra and walked out of the room.
The main corridor of the Sterling office building was deserted when Jo Ann stepped out of the elevator. Glancing down the hall and seeing no one, she was seized by a momentary panic. Had he gone off without her? Had Stan decided that a girl who wouldn't tumble in bed wasn't worth waiting for any longer? Were ail her plans for him futile and done with now?
The sight of a familiar figure at the cigar stand outside the glass lobby door caught Jo Ann's eye. Her high heels clicking as she moved, Jo Ann hurried along the marble corridor and out into the street.
The last days of winter were taking their sweet time to depart and Jo Ann squinted against the cold wind. Hugging her dress coat tightly about her bare shoulders, she moved toward the curb where he was standing.
"Well, hello there." Stan's gaze stopped falling abruptly when it reached the top of Jo Ann's high collar. "I was beginning to wonder what had happened to you."
"I had to wait until everyone got out of the office," Jo Ann explained quickly. "You said you didn't want anybody to get any ideas about us..."
"That's my girl." Stan patted Jo Ann's cheek with his hand and led her away from the office building.
Warmed by his approval, Jo Ann hurried to keep pace with Stan's long stride. She hadn't the slightest idea where he was taking her, but she didn't really care. At last she had him all to herself again. That she had managed to remain patient through an entire day of hardly speaking to him was something suddenly unimaginable. But now, waiting was a thing of the past and there was nothing left for her to do but enjoy the pleasure of his company and the reassuring clasp of his strong hand.
"I hardly saw you today," Jo Ann commented as they turned a corner and walked up the block. "I missed you."
"I was busy." Stan's words were clipped, almost cold.
Jo Ann returned immediately to silence, deciding against pursuing conversation that Stan wouldn't respond to. An old, nagging irritation crept into her mind and she fought to ignore it. So he wasn't the romantic type, Jo Ann told herself for the hundredth time. What difference did it make? And yet, she knew that she would never quite adjust to that disquieting quality in him.
"We'll take a taxi," Stan announced, turning toward the gutter and searching the street.
Jo Ann nodded and remained still. She could tell that Stan wasn't in one of his brighter moods. Instinctively, she searched her mind for something clever to say that might cheer him up. Then, just as quickly, she decided against making the effort. If something was bothering him, he would tell her or not tell her as he chose. From past experience she knew that no cajoling on her part could boost him into a pleasant frame of mind. For now, she decided, it was enough just to be with him. No point in pressing her luck.
Stan opened the cab door and gave the driver his Fifty-Ninth Street address. As Jo Ann climbed into the taxi ahead of him, she could feel Stan's eyes taking in the sight of her exposed legs and she was glad. Any positive form of attention from him was an encouraging sign.
"How come we're going right to your place?" Jo Ann ventured as the cab began its slow journey toward the East Side.
"I just thought we'd have a little private dinner," Stan answered, the faint hint of a smile turning up the corners of his mouth. "I've got something special on my mind for tonight and I don't want any interruptions from nosey waiters."
Jo Ann grinned and lowered her gaze modestly. So she had been right after all, she told herself gleefully. Tonight was the night he was going to pop that all-important question. She should have known better than to fear his losing interests.
The cold wind made her shiver, but Jo Ann didn't mind as she waited for Stan to unlock the front door to his apartment house. Soon they would be alone and she would hear him say the words that would assure her of a lifetime of success ... the words that would prove that she had escaped, finally, the stigma of small-town breeding for the glamorous and easy life as the wife of a New York executive ... Jo Ann Mason ... rich, chic. Important.
"Come on. I'm going to freeze out here."
Stan's irritable voice severed Jo Ann's concentration and compelled her indoors. Moving quickly so as not to annoy him further, she hurried through the tiled lobby toward the red elevator door.
"Don't tell me you're going to cook," Jo Ann affected a light tone as Stan followed her into the elevator.
"Of course not." Stan glanced unamusedly over at her and then sighed aloud. "I ordered some Chinese food sent over before I left the office. Dammit, but I'm tired." He opened his shirt collar and loosened his tie.
"Don't worry, I'll make you feel better," Jo Ann said, anxious to get back on the right side of him even at the risk of a misleading double entendre. "You just mix yourself a drink and relax when we get upstairs."
Stan nodded absently and toyed with his key ring. When the elevator stopped, he rushed out into the hall and down toward his apartment.
Following him along the hall, Jo Ann enjoyed the sensation of thick red carpeting beneath her feet. Soon this would all be hers, she told herself, looking around at the smooth ivory colored walls and bright modern chandeliers. Her home. A home in the best section of town with plenty of room and plenty of light. And all thanks to Stan.
Once inside the vestibule, Jo Ann allowed Stan to help her off with her coat before proceeding into the living-room. "You want to take a shower before dinner?" she asked over her shoulder. "Don't let my presence make you modest." She laughed softly then, knowing that her last words were totally unnecessary.
"That's the best idea I've heard all day," Stan answered, sounding a great deal friendlier than before. "Pour me a scotch and soda first, will you?"
Without bothering to answer, Jo Ann reached into the Italian Provincial liquor cabinet and fished through the bottles for Stan's favorite brand. Finding it, she poured a stiff shot into a heavy crystal glass and went into the kitchen to find some ice and a mixer.
Stan was stripped to the waist when Jo Ann appeared in the doorway to his bedroom. Trying to force her eyes from the catalytic sight of his muscular shoulders, she extended her hand in his direction and offered him the glass.
"I won't be long," Stan said, before taking a deep swallow. "If the delivery boy from the restaurant gets here, there's some money on the kitchen table."
"I'll take care of it," Jo Ann said, and turned to leave.
"Hey, didn't you forget something?" Stan called after her.
Turning around quickly, Jo Ann hurried into Stan's waiting embrace and parted her lips eagerly for his kiss. Her mouth melted pliantly beneath the pressure of his and she caught her breath as sudden excitement rose within her and threatened to turn her knees to jelly.
"You'd better take that shower," Jo Ann's voice was husky as she pulled away from him.
"Why don't you mix yourself a drink while you're waiting," Stan said, reaching for the buckle of his belt.
Jo Ann hurried out of the room, knowing he'd strip right in front of her without any compunctions whatsoever. The idea of viewing Stan totally undressed intrigued and upset her at the same time. She had never seen a naked man. Of course, she had changed plenty of diapers in her baby-sitting days and seen enough dirty photographs back in high school. But it still wasn't the same thing as having Stan right there in front of her without any clothes on. An inexplicable shudder ran through her as she returned to the bottle of scotch in the living room.
The sound of running water in the shower gave Jo Ann an unusual sense of privacy. Curling up in the corner of the long sofa with her drink, she looked slowly about the room and viewed what would soon be hers.
The apartment was furnished in good, expensive, masculine taste. As her glance wandered along the hard, square lines of the cherry-wood tables, Jo Ann sensed a great deal of Stan's presence in the room. She would enjoy that when he wasn't at home with her during the day, Jo Ann decided, wiping a spot of soot from the end table near the sofa. Yes, she would enjoy the apartment altogether, from the heavy white drapes to the beige marble mantel above the fireplace. She would be comfortable there. Comfortable and blissfully secure.
The strong taste of the scotch mellowed her insides. Jo Ann leaned back against the soft material of the couch and felt the liquor travel all the way down to her stomach. Outside, she could hear the wind howling furiously and she pictured the thousands of people hurrying to get in off the streets. But she was warm and safe. And it looked as though she would remain that way.
The ringing of the doorbell jolted her to her feet. Without stopping to slip back into her shoes, Jo Ann padded out into the vestibule and pushed the intercom button.
"Singapore Delivery Service," a heavily accented voice called distortedly through the little metal box.
"Come on up," Jo Ann answered, pushing the buzzer and allowing enough time for the man to get inside the lobby.
A few minutes later she heard the elevator stop at Stan's floor and she unlocked the door.
"Here's your supper, Missus Wyatt," the smiling Oriental man announced.
Jo Ann accepted the warm packages without bothering to correct him. She had never before been referred to as Stan's wife and the feeling was a pleasant one. Placing the bags on the kitchen table, she picked up several bills and paid the man. Then she gave him an extra large tip.
"Was that the food?" Stan's voice was muffled by the closed bathroom door and the shower spray.
"I'll set it out for us," Jo Ann called back, already picturing herself fixing Stan's dinners every night ... a role which she would undoubtedly adore.
The smell of chow mein filled the kitchen and whetted Jo Ann's appetite. Resisting the temptation to sample the contents of the many cardboard containers, she walked back to the living room for her drink.
She was surprised to find that there was little more than a few melted down ice cubes in the glass. Humming absently, Jo Ann picked up the bottle of scotch and poured herself a refill. There was no need for soda anymore, she decided, as she tasted the liquor. The first drink had done its job of dulling her taste buds to the unpleasant flavor. Now she could enjoy the effects without sacrificing the well being of her stomach. Besides, Jo Ann decided as she took a healthy sip, the evening called for a celebration. And nobody felt more festive tonight than she.
Jo Ann was well into her third drink when she heard Stan open the bathroom door. Carrying the bottle with her, she hurried back into the kitchen to meet him.
"I see you've started the party without me," Stan said, approvingly when he noticed the bottle in Jo Ann's hand.
"You want another?" Jo Ann asked thickly, holding her glass out to him.
"No, I've got what I want." Stan's voice was soft as he noticed the plunging neckline of Jo Ann's dress for the first time. Instantly, he moved toward her.
"Oh, no you don't," Jo Ann sang out, backing around to the other side of the table and pulling out her chair. "Dinner's going to get cold."
Stan grimaced in pretended distaste and walked over to his side of the table. Pulling his bathrobe cord a little tighter about his waist, he glanced down at the array of food before them.
It suddenly occurred to Jo Ann that Stan probably wasn't wearing anything beneath that blue robe. Determined to ignore a slight trembling in her hands, she lifted a serving spoon and reached for a container of rice.
"Eating at home is a nice idea," she said, for lack of something more ingenious. "I love Chinese food."
Stan grunted his agreement and held out his plate to be filled.
As she spooned out the food for him, Jo Ann couldn't help but notice the appealing change in Stan's appearance since the shower. His curly black hair, mussed and tousled from a day of running anxious fingers through it, was now slick and smooth. A fresh shave gave him an air of boyish innocence that Jo Ann knew didn't belong there, but enjoyed anyway. And his eyes seemed to sparkle now with renewed interest. How could she help but love him, Jo Ann asked herself. With Stan, a girl didn't have a chance to escape. But then, what girl in her right mind would want to?
"I think I'll take you up on that offer," Stan's words were almost lost in a mouthful of food as he held his glass out near the bottle of scotch.
Jo Ann put down her fork and poured for him and for herself. She could feel the last three drinks working on her system to make her light-headed and a trifle giddy. The sharp outlines of objects in the room seemed the slightest bit fuzzy now. But she didn't mind. Stan would take care of her, even if she got drunk. And so, she felt free to do exactly as she pleased.
"You know, I might just make a habit of this," Jo Ann said, before she raised the glass to her lips.
"Best thing in the world for you," Stan agreed, raising his own glass in a silent toast to her. "Takes away all the nasty inhibitions in young girls."
"The hell it does," Jo Ann answered hastily, knowing exactly what he meant and knowing, too, that she could never get that drunk.
"We'll see," was Stan's only comment before he returned to the food.
Jo Ann ate quickly, hardly able to wait until dinner was over. How would he say it, she wondered, picturing how ridiculous Stan would look on bended knee. No, he definitely wasn't the type to get mushy, Jo Ann decided. He'd probably just ask her point-blank to marry him and that would be that.
Should she hesitate at all before answering, Jo Ann wondered for a moment. No, that would be silly. What was she trying to pretend? Stan must know how she felt. She had told him often enough. Thank goodness he felt the same way.
"You don't want coffee, do you?" Stan asked, putting down his fork and patting his stomach.
"No, not now." Jo Ann felt a twist of excitement playing havoc with her nerves. Any moment now. All she had to do was get him into the living room, and then...
"How about a cigarette in the other room, then?" Stan nodded toward the door.
Jo Ann had all she could do to keep herself from running over to the sofa. Encouraged by the sound of Stan's footsteps immediately behind her own, she moved carefully, not wanting to betray how anxious and excited she really felt.
Stan set their glasses down on the coffee table and reached over to the silver cigarette box. Placing two white cylinders between his lips, he lit them and offered one to Jo Ann.
"Dinner was delicious," Jo Ann blurted, needing to release some of the explosive energy that was building up inside of her.
"Glad you liked it." Stan turned to her slowly and narrowed his eyes to study the sight before him. "Did I tell you how great you look tonight?"
"No, you didn't." Jo Ann hoped she didn't sound as flustered as she felt. It was almost like the first time she'd met him, the day she had gone for the job interview. The same blue eyes ... the same disarming smile ... the same sensation of being close to the pleasantest type of danger she knew.
"Well, then, I'll tell you now." Stan moved a little closer, seemingly unaffected by Jo Ann's state of tense discomfort. "This looks beautiful." He kissed her cheek. "And this looks beautiful." His lips traveled to the hollow of her throat and caressed the sweet softness there. "And these look beautiful..."
Jo Ann felt her flesh spring instantly to life as Stan's mouth slipped down to the neckline of her dress. Forcing herself not to bolt, she allowed him to linger there for a few moments. Then, when his hands began to travel up over her stomach, she pushed him gently but firmly away and reached protectively for her cigarette.
"I get the message." Jo Ann tried to sound amusing, but strong. "Thanks for the compliment."
"Oh, come on, baby." Stan sounded more disgusted than wounded. "We know each other much too well to still be playing children's games."
"There's nothing childish about this game." Jo Ann heard the thickness of her speech and tried to fight it. "You just be a good boy, huh?"
Stan did nothing for a few minutes, but continued staring at her as though trying to make up his mind about something. Then he turned around and picked up his half-empty glass of scotch.
Jo Ann felt the buoyancy drop out of her mood as she watched the lines of Stan's face harden and tighten into an expression of silent annoyance. She wanted to reach out for him and apologize ... to try to explain how frightened she was of giving him what he wanted ... but something inside her cautioned her to remain silent and stick to her guns.
"You said you had something special on your mind." Jo Ann's voice was suddenly timid, almost quaking. "What was it?"
"Forget it," Stan snapped, dragging deeply on his cigarette and refusing to look at her.
Jo Ann felt the war of nerves beginning and she knew she was in no mood for it. What had started out to be a wonderful evening was fast turning into a fiasco. Reaching for her glass, she drained it in two gulps and clenched her teeth against the sudden awareness of taste.
"Are you going to sit there and sulk all night?" Jo Ann knew she was only going to irritate him further, but she couldn't help herself. It wouldn't have seemed so bad if he blew his top or argued with her. But that unbearable, uncommunicative silence of Stan's was more than she felt equipped to contend with. "Since when do you worry about me?" Stan sounded almost adolescent in his petulance and Jo Ann moved impulsively to stroke his cheek. "Come on now," she crooned, feeling braver when he didn't push her away. "We were supposed to have a good time, remember? Don't spoil it."
"I'm not spoiling anything," Stan whirled around to face her, eyes wide with anger. "You're the one who turns into a cold fish every time I get close. Sometimes I don't know why I bother to try."
Jo Ann felt the stab of fear pierce through her chest. Swallowing hard, she wrenched her face into a smile and said, not what she wanted to, but what she felt she had to.
"Why don't you let me have another drink and then maybe we'll try again?" Jo Ann's voice sounded far away to her, but she couldn't think. All she knew was that she was losing him. The look on Stan's face couldn't be misinterpreted. He was getting tired of her. His patience was running out. And she had better do something fast, or else he'd be gone.
"You really mean it?" Stan said, the reappearance of a smile already beginning to reshape his features.
Jo Ann nodded and swallowed hard. Maybe the liquor would do the trick after all, if she really wanted it to. She'd heard about how frightened brides often were. A couple of drinks and things would be much easier all around. It was worth a try.
Stan's fingers darted out toward the bottle and brought it back to Jo Ann's glass. Lifting it, he filled the glass half full and set it down before her.
Jo Ann clasped her fingers in her lap and watched him pour. Inside of her, something was screaming to run and get out while she still could. Nothing was worth that price, not even Stan. But something else, something stronger and more convincing, told her that if she let Stan slip out of her life, she would never have another chance. It was now or never. No Stan, no marriage. No marriage, no success. No success and it was back to Bootesburg forever.
Jo Ann reached over for the glass and lifted it slowly toward her lips. She knew that Stan was watching her and she fought not to seem like she was stalling. She had to go through with it. Now. Tonight. It might as well be painless, she told herself, closing her eyes and gulping fast.
Her throat seemed to catch fire and she gagged violently.
"You don't have to choke yourself," Stan said, pulling the glass from her hand and getting to his feet. "Stay here. I'll get you some water."
Jo Ann wiped the tears from her eyes and looked down at the coffee table. Only a little bit of the liquor remained in the glass. It tasted like lye, but she polished off the rest of it. And soon, she prayed, the liquor would hit so hard, she wouldn't know what she was doing ... or care.
"I'm sorry you have to booze yourself up to make love to me," Stan said, handing her the water.
Jo Ann downed the cool liquid quickly, grateful for the relief it brought to her burning, grating throat. "It's not that," she said when she could speak again. "I told you I'm just scared, that's all."
"But there's nothing to be scared of." Stan dug into the pocket of his robe and pulled out a tissue for her. "Take it from me, baby. You'll love it."
Jo Ann wiped her lips and said nothing. What was there to say? It wasn't as though Stan was giving her a choice. His tone was sweet, but her back was still up against a wall. Yes or no. Put out or get out.
And she had to stay.
"How about some music?" Stan suggested, looking a little uncomfortable for the first time.
"All right." Jo Ann would have agreed to almost anything to get off the topic of sex.
Stan pulled open the door to a long cabinet and flipped on the hi-fi. The room was filled suddenly with soft music, flowing from four separate speakers. "Dance?" he asked.
Jo Ann nodded and pulled herself unsteadily to her feet. An uncomfortable heaviness had settled inside her skull and she found it difficult to focus. Somehow, she managed to find her way into his arms and gratefully, she rested her full weight against the strength of Stan's body.
"That's much better," Stan whispered against her ear as he pulled her closer and moved her in tempo to the soft music. "Just relax and let me do all the worrying."
Jo Ann hugged him tightly and wished she could do as Stan suggested. The comforting sensation of his arms around her was nice, but she knew it wouldn't remain that way for long. Soon, those arms would be reaching ... pawing ... feeling ... working to bring about an inevitable end. And she dare not say no.
Stan's hand traveled to the small of Jo Ann's back and she tried not to stiffen. Yielding to the insistent pressure of his embrace, she moved closer to him, until their bodies were pressed tight and her breasts were crushed against his chest.
"That's a good girl," Stan whispered, tracing down along the outline of Jo Ann's spine with his fingertips and allowing his touch to linger at the soft curve of her hips.
Jo Ann felt his thigh brush against hers and she forced herself doggedly not to pull away. The sensation wasn't at all unpleasant, she discovered, as his lips made a moist trail down her neck to her bare shoulder. Shivering with the beginnings of excitement, Jo Ann sighed and hoped he would kiss her some more.
Instead, Stan pushed her away and held her at arms' length, while he stared unashamedly at her body. "Nice," he murmured, viewing the tops of her breasts and then dropping his glance to the black material that hugged her flat stomach. "Very, very nice."
Jo Ann turned away as the inevitable blush tinted her cheeks and made her feel vaguely ashamed of herself. Moving forward, she buried her face in the folds of Stan's bathrobe, unable to tolerate his inspection any longer.
He began to dance again and Jo Ann felt her toes go numb. She must be getting drunk, she told herself hopefully, wishing she could cast aside the modesty that wasn't allowing her to let loose and enjoy herself completely.
Silent, sure fingers sneaked up the front of her dress and came to rest just beneath Jo Ann's quivering breasts. Trying to concentrate on the beat of the music, she said nothing as those fingers continued upward with electrifying pressure.
She felt her nipples rise to rigid alertness as Stan pressed his thumbs there and pulled her toward him. Jo Ann sighed as a familiar throbbing started and grew in intensity with each passing second. Perhaps she could go through with it after all, she thought, pressing herself harder against his hands and enjoying the delightful waves of sensation that were flooding her body.
Stan suddenly pulled her to him and in one second, Jo Ann was aware of his excitement. Steeling herself against her instinctive fear, she allowed him the closeness of her body. Soon, her hips began a slow, instinctive indulation of their own, as Jo Ann floated with the tide of desire that was slowly obliterating the last traces of her better judgment.
"Let's go inside." Stan's voice was noticeably heavy as he released Jo Ann and steered her toward the closed door of the bedroom.
Jo Ann stumbled forward, filled with the need to end her yearning and allow her body to be satisfied. Her clothes felt suddenly heavy and burdensome and she longed to rip them off and throw them away. But as Stan sat her down on the edge of the bed, she knew that he'd want to undress her, in his own time, in his own way. So she didn't move, but just sat, waiting, trembling, hoping.
Stan sat down beside her and urged Jo Ann toward the mattress. Gazing up into his smile, Jo Ann took a deep breath and tried to convince herself that she was doing the right thing. Sooner or later it would have to happen anyway. And she knew that Stan was going to be the man with whom it would happen. Why not now? No reason at all.
His kiss was long and Jo Ann sought out the tip of his tongue with her own. She was vaguely aware of her legs dangling over the side of the bed, but the awareness of Stan's hand poised at the cleft between her breasts made everything else seem secondary in importance. She wanted him to touch her. To touch her and make her forget that there was such a thing as fear.
"I've been waiting so long for this," Stan murmured, nipping at the lobe of Jo Ann's ear and then kissing her hair.
Jo Ann rolled toward him and pressed herself against Stan's body. She didn't want to hear him talk anymore. She didn't want anything, but to feel flesh upon flesh ... need beside need, until she was completely lost within the sensations of fulfillment.
The material of her dress rustled, as Stan reached below the hem and cupped Jo Ann's knee with his hand.
"Easy now," Stan whispered, when Jo Ann tensed. "Let me do the work."
Jo Ann rolled onto her back, unable to speak, unable to reason. In only a few minutes, an overpowering necessity had arisen and made itself known. And now, she no longer wanted to resist, no longer wanted to wait. She was gone ... deliciously caught up in the need of her body ... her need for Stan.
His hand moved, bypassing the tops of her stockings, until it came to the textured lace of her panties. Jo Ann arched her back as her desire mounted. She could hear Stan's shallow breathing and it only served to increase her own excitement. Why was he toying with her, she wondered. Why couldn't he just take her and relieve this unbearable tension that was making her squirm with delightful imbalance?
She gasped when the elastic hem of her panties yielded to the pressure of Stan's grasp. She opened her eyes once, but the darkness above her head was spinning in rhythm with the eddy of desperation that churned within her. And then, his hand moved again...
"No!" Jo Ann heard the shrill scream of her own voice and its sound shocked her into a sitting position. "No ... no!" She continued yelling, unable to stop the flood tide of terror that had so suddenly smashed through her drunken state of self-deception.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Stan turned on her, his face contorted with annoyance and surprise.
"Just leave me alone!" Jo Ann yelled, pulling her skirt back down over her knees and running from the bed.
"Have you gone completely out of your mind?" Stan came running through the doorway, just a few steps behind her.
Unable to bring herself to answer, Jo Ann picked up her shoes from the living room rug and threw herself toward the front of the apartment.
"Come back here!" Stan yelled as Jo Ann opened the door and rushed out into the hall.
She could hear his voice behind her, but Jo Ann didn't stop to look back. Stan was wearing a bathrobe, she knew, and so he wouldn't follow. And that was all she cared about. Another few minutes and she would be safe again. Safe, alone, and far away from alien hands, alien kisses, and alien desires. Far away from the man she thought she loved.