Chapter 12
Leslie was morose, depressed, withdrawn. She couldn't keep it from showing, hard as she tried, and perhaps that was the reason Jack suggested that she come over to his apartment for dinner that evening. She had happened across him and Audrey in a campus coffee joint. Jack had turned toward Audrey and had added, "You'll come, too, of course."
Audrey was already there and wearing an apron when Leslie arrived at six. She had prepared some Italian-style veal, spaghetti, and a tossed salad, and Jack had a bottle of excellent barberone to go with it. After a thoroughly enjoyable meal, they put a few records on the player and settled down with light highballs-just enough Scotch to take the curse off the water and indulged in the usual exchange of gossip, rumor, and shop talk.
Leslie was grateful for the evening because it helped to take her mind off of her loss. Though she tried not to think about Max-there was no point in brooding over him-his ghost continued to haunt the back of her mind. She wondered if taking a new lover might not help, but she had little desire.
Still, she was in the presence of two former lovers, either of whom should be readily available. Audrey was out: there'd be no more of that. But Jack was a reasonable possibility and, having lost Doris, he might well be in the mood for a little consolation. Very well, when Audrey left, she would stay and see what evelved.
But the evening moved on and Audrey showed no signs of intending to leave. Leslie became irritated. Audrey had no right to be jealous and try to keep her away from Jack, if that was what she was up to. She should face the fact that their affair had reached its final conclusion.
But Audrey showed no signs of jealousy and none of the little signs of sensing that she might not be wanted. On the contrary, the little glances she exchanged with Jack-and the way Jack went over to sit beside Audrey on the sofa-
Then it hit Leslie. The invitation to Audrey had not been an afterthought. She, Leslie, and not Audrey, had been the second guest. And Audrey had taken on the role of hostess so naturally, so unassumingly, that Leslie hadn't even noticed it. Which implied that, of the two women, Audrey was the more at home here.
And Jack and Audrey, having given her a good dinner and a pleasant evening, were waiting for her to leave. So that they could be alone.
What in the world had happened to Audrey? For the first time, Leslie noticed that she had developed a new ease, a lack of witchines....
Well, there was one way to test her observation's. In the old days, when Leslie decided to leave a party, Audrey invariably insisted on leaving with her.
Leslie stood up. "It's been a nice evening but I must get home. I have a long day tomorrow."
Nobody objected.
The test wasn't completely valid, Leslie decided. After all. Audrey did live right across the hall.
She went to the door and Jack accompanied her. Audrey came up behind him and hung on his shoulder.
Leslie felt a touch of panic, she didn't want to be alone, she didn't want to be left out.
"Oh dear," she said, "I forgot all about doing the dishes "
"Don't worry, Les," Audrey said. "I have a good dish-dryer-don't I, dear?" And she kissed Jack's cheek.
That clinched it. Beatrice and Benedict, Leslie thought ruefully. In all likelihood, Audrey was staying the night. Leslie took her leave, silently wishing the two of them well.
She drove her little red car slowly back to her home and was struck by its loneliness as she approached it. Once inside, her heels clattered hollowly on the kitchen floor.
She didn't feel sleepy and so she decided to work for a while. God, how the professional literature piled op! How could any one person be expected to keep up with it all and still live like a human being? She tackled a quarterly scanning its pages quickly, separating new ideas from new data trying to relate both to what she already knew in order to make the contents of the magazine a part of her mind and general intellectual equipment.
After half an hour, she decided it was no use. Nothing she read struck a spark and she was absorbing next to nothing. She threw the quarterly aside.
She turned on the television in time to catch the late news and the weather report. She considered watching a late movie, but the first sequence was abysmally dull, and she turned the set off.
Going back by her desk, she noticed the contract copies Max had given her, and she picked them up. Poor Max. She tried to wish him well with his wife, but it was hard and a bitter taste arose in her mouth. Had she fooled herself about the kind of man he was? She didn't know. But she couldn't honestly convince herself that he'd only been out for a contract and some free play. And if he was so hooked on that wife of his, it could have poisoned any life he and Leslie might have had together.
But, lord, she had turned witchy when he'd told her he was leaving! Knowing that she would hardly be thrilled by the prospect and might well tear him apart, he could just as easily have left with his wife and never said a word to her. But at least he'd had the courage to face her.
Maybe she ought to sign his damned contract. I obligated her to a few weeks of work she didn't feel like doing, but if it helped the rat. and right now a hard grind might be good for her. Well, she'd think about it in the morning.
She still didn't feel sleepy, but she took two buffered aspirin tables and shed her clothes. What was the sense of wearing clothes when you were alone in your own house own a warm summer evening, anyhow? She took a fast shower, got the Courvoisier bottle and a glass, and went into her dark bedroom. She opened up the walls so that the room felt like part of the outdoors, and the moonlight came across the back veranda and fell on the Japanese bed.
She piled pillows high on the back of the bed and lay back against them, brandy bottle and glass in hand. She poured herself a drink, inhaled its aroma, and sipped at it.
Jack and Audrey had probably gone to bed by this time. They might be on a second round. She wondered about Max and Doris. Jack had refused to give her any details about how things had gone between him and the blonde, but she had gained the impression that the latter had learned a thing or two. Perhaps Max would benefit.
Everybody was with someone else.
She was alone on her bed, clothed only in moonlight, sipping brandy. Leslie Stanton, Ph.D. in biology, the lady with the body designed to give any man a thrill for her benefit. Leslie Stanton, who had everything to offer and no one to give anything to....
What if right now she saw a dark shadow out on the far edge of the lawn, a shadow hardly perceptible against the high dark hedge. It would startled her and she would hold her breath. Her heart would beat harder and faster as the shadow advanced toward her and, as it stepped into the moonlight, she would see that it was a man; tall, hard-muscled, stark naked, and she would be too frightened and too fascinated to cry out.
He would come closer, closer, up onto the veranda, and he would see her lying here. Seeing her, naked before him, his passion would rise she would respond....
Then he would come toward her. He would fall to his knees and lay hands on her and force her ... He could bite her. kiss her, caress her breasts.
Then he would take her as she had never been taken before driving her mad with desire-
But no one was taking her. There was no dark mysterious lover. There was only a naked woman lying on her bed in the moonlight, soothing her loneliness with brandy and dreams.