Chapter 9

"I hate to see you go," Leslie said, as she pulled on her robe. "I hate it."

Max finished buttoning his shirt and tucked the tail into his trousers. "And I hate to leave you. but I can't go on deserting Doris like this until certain things are settled."

"I understand, dear. But come back to me as soon as you can."

"Tomorrow evening."

"So long? But I love you-" He kissed her. "Tomorrow evening. I'd better spend a little time with Doris. We have some decisions to make."

Leslie nodded but she was unsatisfied. She wondered if she could seduce Max into staying with her for the rest of the night. But, no. They had been together so often and that would be asking too much. Besides, her consolidation of her victory was going quite well, and it wouldn't do to spoil things by being demanding or possessive.

They went to the front door and he refused the offer of her MOB She brought his hand to her breast as they kissed good night, and then he was gone.

Hurry back, lover, she called out silently. Hurry back to me. He was such a man, such a dream of a man. that losing him for even a few hours began to reawaken her desire for him-and before his dark silhouette had disappeared from her front lawn, her hand went under her robe to touch her tingling flesh.

Hurry back, lover. You're mine now, all mine.

The air of the summer night had a pleasant spring-like coolness as Max hurried through the dimly lit streets, and the sky was clear and sparkling. As he walked briskly and breathed deeply, he had the sensation that he was awakening from a dream. No longer drugged, reality and sanity returned to him.

God, he had deserted Doris during the last few days! He'd hardly spoken to her, hardly seen her, hardly been aware of her existence! What had she been doing with herself? What had she been up to? Did she have any idea of his infidelity? Surely, she must.

Questions he had been evading like a madman at last insisted on rising to consciousness. They were loaded with anxiety, and yet he felt strong and quite able to cope with them. He felt big-chested and toned up; he felt like a man who had recovered from years of a crippling disease by means of a strange and magical interlude, a magic dream.

Max Flagg would make out.

But mere confidence would solve nothing. What was he going to do about Doris? About Leslie?

The fact that he and Doris had done so poorly-no, so terribly-together didn't change the fact that on some levels they had made a marriage. That was the most basic and important welding in a marriage, but there were other cements as well: the shared recollections, the common associations-even the very agony they had gone through together in bed was a kind of cement, perverse though it might be. And Max still had a fondness, a sense of loyalty, a kind of love for his poor mate.

Leslie, on the other hand, was still new to him. As wonderfully as they got along in bed and as much as they found themselves to have in common, they were still strangers, as compared to him and Doris. She had been a refuge for his tortured flesh, a healing force in his life, but did they really have together what it took to turn a few days and nights into a successful lifetime? Max thought so. He hoped so. But the sheer drag that Doris had on him after four years was such that he couldn't be completely sure.

But then, he asked himself, could anyone ever be sure about the future of a new marriage or of any new relationship? Wasn't it always an adventure in which you risked your destiny?

He spotted a police patrol car, flagged it down, and bummed a ride back to midtown. From there he walked to his hotel. He had no idea of how Doris would receive him or what he would say to her: he would play it by ear. His nervousness grew as he crossed the lobby and entered the elevator, but it didn't bother him: he felt keyed up to do the best thing no matter what might lie ahead.

He inserted his key in the lock of the door as quietly as possible. He took a deep breath and entered the room.

Moonlight flooded through a window and revealed the bed. It was made up. No one had slept in it that night.

For a moment, it was difficult for Max to realize that he was alone, and he softly called out his wife's name. There was no reply. He turned on the bedside lamp and then looked into the bathroom. "If Doris had been there that evening, there was no evidence of the fact.

Very well, she had gone out. She had gone to some party. It had run late, turned into a brawl, perhaps, and she hadn't yet pulled out for home. It was very late, and the odds were that she would be back at any moment.

Max undressed and pulled on a pair of seldom used pajamas. There was an indefinable appropriateness in his wearing them now. He crawled into bed and turned out the light.

Sleep would not come immediately. Where the hell was Doris? Couldn't she have left a note? not that he'd been in the habit of keeping her informed lately, of course.

Could she be with Jack Home? Quite likely. She had been seeing quite a lot of the guy lately.

Darkness and relaxation brought on a doze, which in turn deepened into sleep. But the sleep was troubled by vague dreams which refused to make themselves completely known. When he awakened to a tapping at the door, he thought Doris! And he knew that he had been thinking about her throughout the night.

He pulled himself out of bed as the tapping at the door was repeated. He and Doris had wangled two keys from the management, and they never bothered to turn them in. Doris must have forgotten or lost her room key and was too embarrassed to ask for another. Max glanced at his watch and noted that it was only a few minutes past seven, and then opened the door.

It was not Doris. It was Audrey. Audrey, wearing clogs, a buttoned-up cloth raincoat, and a feline smile.

Where the hell was Doris?

"Going to ask me in, lover?"

"Oh. yeah. Sure. Come on in."

Audrey came in and closed the door behind herself. Max shook his head to bring himself more fully awake.

"What are you doing here at this hour?" he asked rather stupidly.

Audrey laughed. "Well, I couldn't get much sleep last night and I asked myself why. And it occurred to me that once we were such good friends, and yet we'd hardly gotten together during your visit. Not alone. So here I am."

"Wait a minute."

Max went into the bathroom, took off his pajama top and splashing cold water on his face. By the time he was finished, he was thoroughly awake. He hoped he could find some way to hustle Audrey out. He had enough on his mind without having to be pleasant to her. Still, he had better be civil.

He left the bathroom and said, "You offering me a breakfast date, sweetheart?"

"It had occurred to me. And it also occurred to me that you might be getting tired of the Faculty Cabana Club." She was unbuttoning her raincoat, and it fell open to reveal that she was wearing a two-piece bathing suit of ocelot design. It was a much briefer suit than she would ever have dared to wear at the Club. "But I happen to know of a little old swimming hole we can have completely to ourselves. It's so private we can swim in the raw if we want to."

Her words were not necessarily an invitation-but her semi-nude body most certainly was. It reminded Max of an earlier time, a time five years ago. Audrey had been a much sweeter, a much more likable, girl then; and at times Max had wondered if they might not make a permanent thing of their relationship. They had become increasingly intimate, and Max knew most of that body, though he had never seen it as close to naked as it was now. Seeing it was no disappointment and he was reminded of those evenings when he had known her.

But this was no time to think of that.

He said. "It sounds like fun, Audrey, but I'd better not. I want to see Doris I've been kind of ignoring her lately"

"Yes, you have."

Her tone brought back the anxiety which had pervaded him last night. It hit him with its full force.

"So? Have you turned personal relations counselor, Audrey?"

She ignored his rhetorical question and looked around the room She looked at the bed. "Doris slept out last night, didn't she?"

He considered his words carefully before he spoke. "Sweetheart, maybe we haven't gotten together much since Doris and I arrived, but you've got the look of trouble about you. Now, if you have something to say, I wish you'd spit it out without any fancy trimmings."

Her coat still on and still open, Audrey stood down on the edge of the bed and looked up at him. "You really want me to?"

"Certainly," he said, and he wasn't at all certain.

"My apartment is right across from Jack Home's. Quite late last night, I saw them arrive there together."

"So what? I've brought a girl to my place many a time, just to have a drink or a bite to eat, it was as innocent as that!"

"With an ex-lover?"

Audrey, if that's all you have to say-"

"Did you play records two or three times during the night? Did your girl laugh?"

The wind went out of Max. He sat down beside Audrey on the side of the bed.

"I'm sorry. Max," Audrey said, sounding as if she meant it. "I told you about them. I told you to keep an eye on her. But you were so interested in Leslie." The evidence was entirely circumstantial, but he could no longer avoid the obvious inference: Doris had been unfaithful to him, as surely as ne had been unfaithful to her. And the thought made him feel sick. He had asked for that, of course-in effect, he had virtually thrown the two people together-and he had got what he'd asked for.

"What time did she leave?" he asked dully.

"I went to sleep. If she isn't here now, I suppose they're still together."

Still together. As he and Leslie had been. Having breakfast together, or perhaps early morning love.

Audrey moved closer to him, put an arm around his bare waist, and leaned against his shoulder. "What are you going to do about her. Max?"

"I don't know." If he had stayed the night with Leslie, the chances were that they'd be loving at about this time. And if Doris were with Jack, she might very well be naked in his arms.

"I don't know," Max repeated.

He had no right to be jealous, but he was. And, more than that, he was weary and lonelv. All the superb confidence of a few hours before had fled from him.

Well, that's it. he thought. The game's over.

"Max...." Audrey said.

"Yes...."

She tilted her head up to look at him and lightly scratched his chest. "You and I used to have some good times together."

Again he remembered the crazy hours during which they had grappled with one another and never reached an adequate conclusion. "You were a damned little tease."

"No, I wasn't! I was scared. Things went so fast toward-toward being grown up, and I wasn't ready for that. But if there was any man who could have had me, that was you." Her nails scratched toward his waist. I've dreamed of you often. Because I've never been ... with a man ... yet."

He looked into her eyes, which like her hand and her body, seemed to ask him to go ahead. The request stirred his desire. So did the memories of their times in the past. So did the mere fact that in the last few days he had become habituated to loving on a regular and frequent basis.

Her nails bit at his flesh and his mouth went to hers. Doris was with another man and Leslie was far away and he needed a woman and what the hell. Audrey's mouth opened and he struck for it, and she turned and twisted in his arms.

They remained sitting on the edge of the bed, caught in a shuddering embrace. As they kissed again, Max pulled down the narow strap that had barely covered Audrey's breasts, and as he massaged the healthy white globes, she unhooked the halter from her waist and tossed it away. She was milk-warm and firm in his hand, large-breasted and shivering; and only after his touch had brought a blind look to her eyes did he bite for the nerve centers. "Stop," she said, "for just a minute, please stop!"

He withdrew his lips and let her rest in the crook of his arm. But he never took his fingertips off her, and soon they were circling to dip briefly but deeply at her ocelot bikini bottom. Her teeth were chattering and she was trembling as if frozen rather than melted, and he paused for a few seconds before touching her again-and the next time, he went under the cloth, and she gasped and pulled him away.

Her head was tossed back and resting against him, her eyes closed. For several minutes, she held his hand and refused anything from him but his kisses, and he felt the return of comparative calm to her body. Then she released his hand and, without looking, reached down and slid her suit bottom off and kicked it away. Still sitting beside him, she straightened her back and pulled back her shoulders. Knees tightly together, she shifted back and forth and sideways. She swayed her well-formed breasts and rolled her muscles. He had forgotten that her body was this good, this exciting, but then he'd never before seen her nude.

Reading his thoughts, she opened her eyes a slit and looked into his, saying, "You've never seen me this way before, have you-with nothing but a coat over my arms?"

"Never."

"No man has. Do you like me?"

"You're beautiful, desirable, irresistible, luscious, seductive. You make a man love-drunk and lusty...."

As he whispered to her, he went back to his love-play, bringing each square inch of her torso to life. She sighed and held his head against her bosom and slowly relaxed for him. He found that she was ready and he was careful not to hurry her.

When he sat up straight, she looked at him for the first time. This wasn't the first time that she had seen and touched him, but, after so many years, this might as well have been the first time. With a whimper of pleasure, she found his drawstring, and pulled. He shoved the pajamas to the floor, and she suddenly slipped away from his arm to kneel before him.

What she did then brought his sensations to a level equal to her own, and he had to make her stop. He raised her to her feet, picked her up, coat and all, and laid her down on the bed. Careful not to frighten her, he joined her, lying down gently.

He worked his way to her ribs, to her nipples, to her neck. He was nearly ready when he saw the first sign of panic in her eyes.

"We don't have to this first time, do we?" she asked.

"Yes, sweetheart."

"But not yet!"

"Not quite yet."

He gave her a moment, taking care to keep her desire high, then began.

"No!" she cried out. "Not this time! We can do other things! But not this time, Max!"

"Easy, sweetheart, easy."

She started kicking, thrashing, twisting to shove him away. She called him a few dirty names and began to weep. But he kept working. She wasn't screaming and she wasn't struggling nearly as hard as she might have, and he knew that her need for him was almost equal to her fear of him.

When at last he convinced her, it was because her body betrayed her.

"You're hurting me," she wailed.

"No. Audrey," he said soothingly, "nothing hurts, and you know that. Now just lie still for a moment, and I promise you that nothing will hurt."

Keyed up as his body was, his mind was oddly detached as he lay there. He noticed that he had no sense of being unfaithful to anyone, not to Doris, not to Leslie. Since he was convinced that Doris was having an affair with Jack, it wasn't unnatural that he felt free to take another woman. But he would have thought that his growing relationship with Leslie precluded any conscienceless infidelity. Obviously, that wasn't so. However great a potential he and Leslie might have as a pair, Max wasn't yet fully committed to her emotionally He realized that if he hadn't met Leslie, he probably would have found another woman sooner or later. He might conceivably come to love Leslie far more than he had ever loved Doris, but his primary attraction to her was not one of complete love. It was basically a matter of needing a tender, responsive, healthy female with whom to have a relationship. That another woman might have done as well was shown by the fact that now, with re-vided confidence in his masculine ability, he was with poor, vicious, man-scared Audrey.

When he felt that he was safe, he began to move. "Oh, don't! Don't!" Audrey wailed, but he continued. At the same time, he found a lust-toughened nipple and teased it from side to side.

"Don't, don't, don't," the woman sobbed, "don't, don't, don't, don't ... oh!" A plaintive little cry broke off her protests.

And she pressed against him.

From that point on, she developed rapidly. Her sweating, wincing, twitching face was still more that of a victim than a participant, but she tried her best to enjoy this and quickly caught onto the counter-rhythm. Her body became enthusiastic and she brought his pleasure as well as her own to a fine edge. And before he knew-in less than a minute-she said, "Oh, Max!" and went into convulsions.

He didn't stop. He kept moving, kept the rhythm, and when that had passed, she was still moving with him. She cried, "Oh, God...." and kept going. Never again. Max thought, would she be the tease she had been. Never again would she say. "Don't, don't, don't," when she meant, "Go! Go! Go!"

"Oh, you sweet man," she said, her words now coming out in a kind of growl. "You sweet big man! Oh, give me everything!

Her arms went limp at her sides. Max tried to restrain himself but he didn't know how much longer he could.

He finished. She called out, "Oh, Max! Here I am again f" and threw herself at an abandoned frenzy. Suddenly, in the very midst of the peak, they both broke into laughter, laughter that lasted as long as they continued.

The laughter and the ultimate moment died. Audrey held Max tightly so he couldn't get away. She closed her eyes and hugged him and said, "I never dreamed this could be like that! I never knew! "If only I had known! Oh. Max! You're so good! Oh. Max. I wish that one of those nights when we used to torment each other you had raped me. Yes, I do I wish you had five years ago."

A strange voice said, "Sometimes I wish he'd raped you five years ago, too."

Opening her eyes wide, Audrey looked over Max shoulder.

"Oh, God!" she said.