Chapter 10
Friday came. The beginning of the weekend that Jack Donovan was going to spend at the Markell house.
Markell had arranged to meet Donovan at Grand Central Station at about half past four, so that they could beat the weekend rush of commuters. Markell got to the station about five minutes early, and headed for the commuter tracks. Donovan was already there, leaning against a pillar, a weekend bag at his feet They shook hands. Markell said, "You're really getting punctual in your old age, Jack."
Donovan shrugged. "It's pure survival, Fred. "If I was late, I'd have had to ride up to your place in the rush hour. I figured it was easier and smarter to show up on time."
Grinning, Markell said, "Sensible. How about heading for the bar car?"
"That sounds sensible too."
They boarded the train, got to the bar car ahead of the rush, and wrapped themselves around two martinis apiece before taking seats. The martinis were weak and watery, the way martinis usually are aboard a commuter train, but they served their purpose, all the same. Markell felt warm inside, and relaxed, as he settled down for the short ride. It was a dark, wintery afternoon, a hint of more snow in the air outside.
Markell thought of Anita. He thought of Donovan sleeping with Anita. The image, that image which he had not been able to eradicate from his mind, of Donovan and Anita naked and together in bed, came to his mind again. It was an image that tormented him. He never could forget that it was this man who had first given him Anita's phone number, that it was Jack Donovan who had tried her out first, who had known her body, who had fondled her breasts, and squeezed her silk-smooth buttocks, Donovan, Donovan!
Markell tried to forget. He had little luck.
By the time the train had pulled out of the station, it had started to snow a little. By the time they were passing through Harlem, it was snowing more than a little, and as they reached the River dale station it began to come down in earnest. The train's progress was slowed. They crawled on through the storm.
They reached the Markell house by six. Janet came out to greet them. She was dressed informally, in a jersey pullover and a pair of slacks. The jersey, taut against the swells of her breasts, showed off the recent gain of weight in the most provocative way possible.
Markell said, "I think you know this man, Janet."
"We've met," she said. "But it's been a long time since I've last seen him."
"Months and months," Donovan said. "Too long. How've you been, Jan?"
"No complaints."
"You look good."
"I've put on a little weight," Janet said complacently.
"In all the right places."
"That's what Fred was telling me not so long ago. Here, let me have your coat."
Markell noticed the warmth of Janet's greeting, the way she beamed when Donovan came into the room, the sparkle in her eyes. It was almost a little suspicious, Markell thought. As though there might be some mutual interest kindled there. Well, at this point he hardly had any objection to that. Not at all.
They settled down in the living room, Markell putting up a blazing fire while Janet mixed drinks.
"The place looks good, Fred. Really good. I hadn't seen it since you painted."
"That long? We painted before the summer."
Donovan shrugged. "Guess I haven't been around for a while, then.' "Guess not."
Janet was watching them both. She seemed lively and animated, more so than she had seemed for months. The tight jersey and the corduroy pedal pushers had her figure on open display, stressing the fine lines of her hips and legs as well as the new blossoming of her bosom. Markell had known for a long time that there was an attraction between Donovan and Janet. But it was not an attraction that had had any chance to be consummated, so far as he knew. They had had so little opportunity to be alone together. Markell had seen to that, avoiding any natural chances such as a mutual vacation or even a short weekend trip.
But now everything was different.
Let them do what they damn please, he thought.
The first time Markell left the two of them alone, Donovan turned to Janet and said in a low voice, "Do you know what it's all about?"
"No. Not a thing."
"Not even a guess?"
"No."
They had been having variants of that conversation for almost two weeks, now-ever since Markell had first raised the matter of the invitation. They were both ried, though on the surface they remained calm.
"Do you think he knows?" Donovan asked.
"I'm sure he doesn't."
"How can you be so sure?"
"He's acting so relaxed, so friendly. There's not a trace of jealousy about him."
"Maybe he's putting on some kind of act," Donovan suggested.
Janet shook her head. "Fred's not the devious type. He's not an actor. I know him."
"But why'd he invite me, then?"
"Maybe he's just being friendly," she said. "You're his oldest friend, after all. And he knew you were being left alone for the weekend. Maybe he just felt like making a nice gesture."
"Maybe."
"I'm sure of it. We've got guilty consciences, Jack. That's why we're reading all kinds of stuff into that invitation. I'm sure it's perfectly innocent."
Donovan said, "Then will you sleep with me tonight, Janet?"
"How? How can I? With him in the house-"
"Wait till he falls asleep. Then come to my bedroom for a while."
"I don't dare."
"You said he doesn't suspect anything."
"But if he wakes up, and finds that I'm not next to him in the bed-"
"You can tell him you got restless," Donovan said.
"Sure," Janet's voice was acid. "I got restless and went sleepwalking and happened to wind up in your bedroom. How gullible do you think the guy is, anyway?"
Donovan took on a brooding expression. "You mean I'm going to have to spend a whole weekend here and not be able to touch you once?"
"Not unless Fred leaves us alone for a couple of hours. Not unless he goes away."
"That's hellish, Jan. You know I can't resist you."
"And I can't resist you. But we've got to We can't just jump at each other the moment he shuts his eyes. It may be some sort of trap, Jack. We mustn't tempt fate. We have to be cautious."
"Maybe you're right"
"I know I am," Janet said. "Listen, we have all the other days of the week for each other. Why try anything when he's right here in the house with us? We can hold out Jack. We have to."
"All right All right But-"
"Shh. He's coming back!"
They spent a cozy evening in front of the fire, the three of them. They talked-about real estate, about the chances of a rally in the stock market, about Donovan's wife and his young children, about the international situation, about the election that had been held the month before, about the possibility of a tax cut in the year to come. It was a perfectly ordinary, innocent conversation. Markell sat in his big chair next to the fire, and Janet and Donovan sat on the couch, but they sat at opposite ends, with plenty of room between them. From time to time, Markell would refill everyone's glass, but none of them drank to any unusual degree.
About midnight, Janet yawned delicately and said, "I think it's time I got some sleep. You boys can stay up and solve the rest of the problems of the world, but I'm going to sack out."
"Me too," Donovan said. "Just as soon as I finish this drink."
Markell nodded. "I'll be up in a few minutes, Janet."
She left the room, smiling a chaste good night to both of them. Markell nodded. He had been watching her carefully. She was obviously keyed up, excited about having an unattached man in the house. She was trying hard to seem casual about it, but Markell knew his wife well enough to sense the undercurrent of excitement in her.
Donovan would be sleeping downstairs, in the guest room. Markell wondered whether things would actually get as far as he was expecting them to.
He and Donovan talked a few minutes longer. Then Markell rose, stretched, and poked at the fire, breaking up the glowing embers.
"Well, see you in the morning," he said.
"Right. Good night, Fred."
"Good night, Jack."
Markell went upstairs. Janet was already undressed, and was standing nude in front of her mirror, vigorously combing out her lustrous black hair. The deepened bowls of her breasts shook with each stroke.
He felt a certain sadness, looking at her unadorned beauty and remembering the passionate times they had had together, back at the beginning. But then he remembered, too, the long years of coldness, the bickering, the open enmity, and he did not regret the course of action that he had decided upon.
"Well, that wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked.
"What wasn't?"
"Having Jack here. You seemed afraid he'd get drunk and break the furniture."
"He's calmed down," Janet said. "I guess being a father has changed him."
"Or maybe just getting old."
"He's not so old," Janet said. "He's only forty, same as you."
"I used to think forty was ancient."
"Sure When you were twenty. How will you feel about it when you're sixty?"
"I'll worry about that when I get there," he said.
They clambered into bed. Markell turned out the light.
I'll give her one more chance, he thought. Perhaps her last chance.
He reached for his wife.
His hands closed around the plump hillocks of her breasts. He felt her draw away from him, almost shudder as he touched her. It wasn't a promising sign.
"Please, Fred."
"Don't you want to?"
"No."
"I want you, Janet."
"Not tonight. Please."
"Why not?"
"It-I don't know. I don't feel like ft. There's an outsider in the house. He might hear us, or something."
"He's all the way downstairs. There isn't a chance he could hear a thing."
"Even so-"
"And even if he did hear," Markell said. "What of it? He knows we're married. He was at our wedding. He knows that married people are supposed to have relations with each other. So I don't see what-"
She moved away from him in the bed. "I just don't feel like it, that's all. Never mind why."
He stared at her bare, lovely back.' "I guess that Saturday night was just an accident, then. That time when it was so good for us."
"I don't know." Her voice was muffled. "Let's not argue. Let's just go to sleep."
"All right," he said. His body throbbed with desire, but he contained himself. Soon he would no longer have to put up with these refusals. Soon every night would be a night of passion.
Soon.
But he did not go to sleep. He remained awake, watching her, waiting to see if she would rise and go downstairs and into Jack Donovan's bedroom. He was positive that she would not do it, but even so, he had to wait, had to watch, had to make certain.
Half an hour ticked by. Sleep clawed at him. He forced himself to keep awake. Janet seemed asleep already, lying on her side, her breasts rising and falling with slow regularity. It was past one, now.
Markell decided that nothing was going to happen tonight, that Janet would not take advantage of the presence of another man in the house. He closed his eyes. He relaxed.
Tomorrow was another day, he told himself. After a while, he slept.
But Janet was still awake. She lay on her side, her back to her husband, one leg drawn up underneath her body, her hands clasped at her thighs.
There was a raging fire in her.
She could feel the magnetic pull from downstairs, the steady, almost telepathic urging radiating from the guest bedroom. Donovan was awake down there, she knew. He was lying there waiting for her, trying to magic her down there to share his bed.
Do I dare, she wondered?
No. No. It was too risky by far.
And yet she wanted to, so badly. It might not be so dangerous, she thought. Fred seemed to be asleep. And Fred usually slept soundly, once he dropped off. All she had to do was slip out of the bed, tiptoe downstairs, enter Donovan's bedroom. He would be waiting for her, and the candle of his lust would be lit, and she could quench its fire with her willing body.
So easy.
Yet so impossible.
Caution had to rule. There was too mucn to lose, so little really to gain. A tumble in bed, a bit of sweaty grappling, a moment of passion, a spasm of ecstasy-that was all fine, but not worth the risk. If Fred awoke, if he missed her, if he came downstairs and found her under Jack Donovan's waiting body, there would be hell to pay. Suppose he divorced her? She'd be alone. She couldn't marry Jack; Jack had a wife of his own, kids. She would have no money, no property, not even a settlement from Fred. She'd be out on her own at the age of thirty-three, trying to start her life over.
Na, She couldn't risk it.
She had to lie here, with the fire raging in her and Jack Donovan only a few moments away, and she had to force herself not to want him.
Fred had wanted her. But she had refused him. Maybe that had been a mistake, Janet thought. Making love to Fred would have eased the craving in her. After all, she had responded to Fred two weeks ago, so why not now? So long as she closed her eyes and pretended it was Jack who was doing it to her-
But that seemed filthy. To pretend, with the real Jack downstairs-no, she couldn't do that. It was weird to think of deceiving your lover by sleeping with your own husband, but Janet had not been able to do that. To soothe her forbidden lusts by engaging in licit passion.
She put her hands over her body. She felt the warmth, the palpitation.
She burrowed into the pillow, pulled the covers high above her head, and struggled to squash the lustful thoughts that were assailing her. A long time later, she dipped into an uneasy sleep.