Chapter 3
The following week, Jed kept expecting to see Edythe again, or at least her brother Larry. Edythe had aroused his curiosity and his desires. He got edgy and impatient as day after day went by without a word from them or sight of them. They could not simply disappear.
Pomona was a moderate-sized city of 200,000 people. A person could lose himself in it if he tried. But normally Jed ran into the same crowd whenever he went out, his business associates, his clients, his rivals, and Andrea's society friends. Here in this Midwestern city, everyone knew everyone. If a guy got tired of the crowd and wanted to meet someone new, he moved to another city.
Jed had a date with Andrea again for Saturday night. He refused to go again to the Maplewood Country Club.
"Let's go dancing. The Midtown Hotel has a good orchestra."
"But darling," she said plaintively over the phone. Her voice always sounded higher-pitched and shrill on the telephone. "The Club has an orchestra. We could dance there. And I want you to meet some friends of mine."
"That's exactly why I don't want to go to the club," he growled. "We'll run into some more friends of yours, and we'll do nothing but chatter to people all night."
"If you don't care for my friends-" she said, her high voice chilly.
"I didn't say that." He rubbed his hand over his curly hair, and tried to soften his tone. "I only meant I like to be alone with you now and then, just the two of us."
"In your apartment, for example," said Andrea coldly. "Sometimes I wonder if you really love me!"
He wondered the same, but decided not to express his feelings along that line. He was confused enough in his love life. He had chased Andrea until he had caught her, but now she was caught he wasn't sure he still wanted her. As for being faithful to her, his interest in other women was undiminished.
The silence between them grew awkwardly long. Andrea finally broke it, her voice very sweet and forgiving.
"All right, darling, we'll do as you say. The Mid-town Hotel. I'll wear my new formal. I think you'll adore it. It's green, and very smart."
"Okay, Andrea. I'll pick you up at eight, then. Thanks, sweet," he added. She could be very generous. He was probably a stupid brute not to appreciate her.
He lounged around the apartment the remainder of the day. He had wanted to work on campaign plans, but every time he sat down to start work he thought of Edythe again. He gazed at the chair where she had curled up, the blanket over her. When he had sat at her feet, and rubbed his hands over her cold feet and legs, he had felt excitement and tension as though he were close to some high voltage. Her perfume had been strong and heady, none of that mild, sticky, sweet stuff, but something that enveloped her in a cloud of rich, sensuous odors.
He tried again and again to get some work done, but finally gave up, and lay back on the couch. He closed his eyes and pretended she was there, leaning over him, her face serious and solemn, the way it had been when she talked about Italy. Excitement sparkled in her dark blue eyes. She leaned closer, kissed his mouth lingeringly. He drew her down to him, ran his hands over her naked thighs.
"Um," sighed Jed, stretching luxuriously. He wished he had a girl with him right now. Any girl, but especially Edythe. Sometimes he wanted a woman so much he ached. Would his desires let up when he got older? If they did, he would have plenty of memories to comfort him in his declining years. He was doing his best to get a variety of experiences while young.
He was plenty keyed up when he went out that night for the date with Andrea. If he hadn't pushed the dancing bit so hard, he would have urged her to come right back to his apartment with him.
But when he went in for her at her house, the sight of her stopped him cold. She was regal and unapproachable in a full-length satin sheath dress of emerald green. The dress was so beaded and sequined that he would have trouble dancing with her in comfort, to say nothing of enjoying the sly touch of her knee or breast.
"How do you like it, darling?" she smiled. "Mummie helped me pick it out."
"Mummie" was watching complacently as Jed helped Andrea into her fur jacket. He was not in incentive promotional campaigns for no reason. He ran through a mental dictionary of words that could be used to describe his reactions honestly without offending Andrea or her mother.
"Stunning," he finally said. "It's simply stunning."
They both beamed. He managed to get Andrea into the car without ripping the dress. The skirt was so narrow she would scarcely walk. He wondered how in the world she expected to dance in it.
At the hotel, he soon found the answer. She did not expect to dance much. She expected to sit still and be admired, to receive friends and gush over feminine enemies, secure in the knowledge that she looked stunning. Jed sat back in his chair beside her, his foot tapping involuntarily to the catchy music, and planned various fitting manners of rape and mayhem on his pretty fiancee.
"Oh, there's Larry Westfall," she said, frowning, in an interlude when no one was at their table. "No, don't look at him, Jed. He behaved terribly the other night, and I haven't forgiven him."
Jed felt the first spark of interest he had known all evening. He studied Larry Westfall, who was seated across the room with an attractive black-haired girl who laughed and giggled.
"Who is she?" asked Jed.
Andrea condescended to look. "I don't know her. We haven't met."
Sometimes Andrea could be thoroughly maddening.
"Any ideas?" he persisted. "Have you heard who he's dating?"
Andrea shrugged, a major feat in the tight-fitting sheath. "He dates loads of girls. Never any one girl for long. He's like his sister."
Jed pricked up his ears. "Oh, is Edythe like that too?"
"Sure. On again, off again. One winter I remember we kept running into each other and I counted. I told Mummie Edythe was with a different man every single time I met her."
"It's a wonder she didn't run out of men," said Jed.
"There are the Joneses. Oh, Polly-Polly-hi, darling I"
The Joneses stopped at their table. Jed was introduced.
"Oh, we can't sit down. Our table is ready. What an adorable dress," gushed Polly Jones. Jed and Mr. Jones, whoever he was, smiled painfully at each other and stood for fifteen minutes while the girls visited for a minute.
Finally they left. Andrea sighed with satisfaction. "I knew it. I knew she had married badly," she said. "How did you know? He seemed nice enough." Jed hadn't cared for the fellow, but to have a fellow suffering male attacked so suddenly made his hackles rise.
"Oh, Jed. He's nobody. Just a man in a bank. Just a cashier."
"T hate to disillusion you, Andrea," he said, suppressing a grin. "But in modern-day banking, a cashier is a bank official, rather high up, also."
"Oh," she said blankly. "I thought cashiers stood at windows and made change."
"Those are bank tellers." He looked across at Larry. He and the black-haired girl were getting up to dance. "Let's dance, Andrea, before someone else comes."
He caught her off guard, and she stood up when he did. She smiled sweetly as he took her in his arms. But she whispered, "Jed, be careful. Don't go fast. This dress is so tight."
It was tight. She could scarcely move her feet. Dancing was an awkward business, with Andrea worried about her dress. And Jed could not find a comfortable place to put his hand on her. The back and waist were covered with sharp metal and glass. He fumed inside.
They paused near the table where Larry and his girl were seated, when Andrea had some trouble with a heel catching in her hem. Jed looked curiously at the blond-haired boy. He wasn't drunk tonight. On impulse, Jed danced Andrea closer to the table.
Larry stood up when they paused.
"Hi, Larry," said Jed casually.
The boy's face was flushed. "Hi. Say, Andrea, I want to apologize for the other night. Don't remember what I said, but I was drunk."
"It's all right, Larry," she said, in a chill voice that said he was not forgiven.
He introduced the girl, who looked Jed over with frank interest. Jed wanted to sit down with them and talk. But Larry did not invite them, and Andrea pulled Jed away.
Out of earshot, Andrea scolded him. "Really, Jed. You ought to avoid Larry. He's a troublemaker."
"I just wanted to talk to him." Jed glanced back at the couple. He was surprised to see them leaving. Funny. You might suppose Larry wanted to avoid him. Jed's eyes narrowed in speculation.
They sat down again, and Jed fumed as he saw another couple approaching. He waited till they had chattered and gushed and finally left. Then he said:
"Let's go, Andrea. Let's go back to my place. We can't be alone anywhere in this town. You know everybody."
She smiled, gratified. "I do know everybody, darling. I can help you a lot if you'll let me."
He bit back words, managed to say nicely, "But I want to be alone with you once in a while."
"All right, darling. Let's do go. I have something to talk over with you also."
That stiffened his back. At the apartment, he took her jacket and laid it aside. But when he tried to draw her over to the couch, she refused.
"No, darling," she said, decisively, and sat down in a straight chair. "We simply must talk. I've promised Mummie."
He had been frustrated, bored, on edge all evening. He was in no mood for anything but a healthy dose of love. He sprawled on the couch and said savagely:
"Okay, what have you promised Mummie?"
"That I would talk to you and we'd set the wedding date. She has started a list of people to invite, but she says you simply have no idea what planning a wedding involves. She thought a September wedding could be arranged if we hurry a bit. That would be lovely, wouldn't it, darling? I must have at least four bridesmaids, maybe six if I have to invite my cousins. They could wear autumn colors, and the flowers could be the gorgeous autumn flowers."
"I can't make plans for September," he evaded. "There's a big deal that may take me out of town that month."
"Oh, really, Jed! You are infuriating," she said, in cold lady-like tones. "I think Mummie is right. You're putting us off."
"I had not planned to marry your mother," Jed retorted.
That precipitated it. They quarreled for half an hour, trading insults. Jed knew he was going too far, but his own confused feelings were too much for him to hide. He did not want a huge society wedding. He was not even sure he wanted to marry Andrea.
"If you don't want to marry me, say so!" she finally cried out, big tears in her green eyes. All the time he had been pacing around the apartment, she had been seated on the straight chair, back erect, hands folded in her lap. If she had jumped up, yelled, thrown a vase at him, he would have suggested eloping at once. But not Andrea-no fury of passion for her.
"I can't make plans right now," he said, coming to a halt before her. "There are some business problems I've got to work out before I get married."
"What problems?" she asked, alertly. "I could help. Or Grandmother could. She wants to help you-she said so."
"Not with these problems." He studied her, decided against confiding in her. She talked too much. "No, we'll have to wait."
She stood up, strode to the closet, got her fur jacket, and put it on. Then she swung majestically to face him.
"You don't trust me. You have insulted my mother. You won't name a wedding date. And you never want to do what I want to do. I'm leaving! When you apologize to me, I may consider marrying you. But I'm not at all sure about that."
"Oh, come on, Andrea," he urged, starting toward her. He waited all stirred up. He had waited all day to get her to his apartment. "Let's stop fighting."
"You mean start making love. That's all you want, all you ever want," she said tearfully. She flung open the door. "I'm going home."
"All right. All right. I'll get the car," he said angrily.
"Don't bother! I'll get a taxi." She slammed the door in his face. He heard her high heels clattering to the elevator.
"Oh, hell and fire and damnation," he cussed. Here he was, all stirred up, and no woman around. He kicked at a chair, sent it over. He went over to his desk and got out his black notebook.
He ruffled the pages. His notebook was getting out of date. He had not used it much since he had become engaged to Andrea. The only new name in it was his secretary's, Bess Cridland. Each of his secretaries lasted about one year. He picked them for beauty and willingness, but after about a year of willingness, each girl seemed to reach the same conclusion-that there was no future marriage-wise with Jed Kingsley.
Bess had been with him only six months. And she could be very lovable. On impulse, he dialed her number.
Her husky, soft, contralto voice answered.
"Bess, this is Jed."
"Oh-hello."
"Are you in bed?"
"No, I was only beginning to think about going to bed."
"Why don't you come over to my apartment and think about it here?"
There was a slight pause. He gripped the phone, willing her to come, wishing he could hypnotize a girl into coming to him whenever he wanted one.
"Why-all right, Jed," she said, her voice huskier and seductive. "I'll be over in a few minutes."
"I'll come for you."
"No, don't bother. I have my car."
"Park it in the garage next to mine. And Bess?"
"Yes?"
"Don't bother to dress up. Come as you are."
She laughed, deep in her throat. "Okay, Jed. I'll be right there."
She hung up. He went to the bedroom, stripped, put on a robe. He might as well be ready when she came.
She was there in twenty minutes. When he took her coat, he saw she was wearing black slacks and a tight black sweater.
"You said not to dress," she reminded him.
The black sweater outlined full, rich breasts. He put his hand on one breast and squeezed it through the wool material. She wasn't wearing anything tight underneath, and he could feel the warmth and resiliency of the apple-shaped globe.
"Bess, I'm about crazy for a woman," he confessed at once. "Can we skip the preliminaries and go to bed?"
Her smile was free of coyness. "Sure, Jed. A woman has hungers, too." She caught his hand and pressed his fingers.
He gave a sigh of relief and satisfaction. He led her into the bedroom, and helped her undress. The black sweater was slipped over her head. A thin white T-shirt was all she wore under it. She unzipped the slacks, and he pulled them down impatiently. She kicked off her shoes and sat down on the edge of the bed. He sat beside her, and pulled off the T-shirt.
Her full, rich breasts sprang out of the clothing like fruit for his picking. He pushed her back on the bed and bent over her. He cupped a breast in his palm and lowered greedy lips to the warm flesh. As he kissed and caressed the flesh he desired, he felt her hands on his head, her fingers thrusting through the black curly hair. He settled down to enjoy the session. She was willing, passionate, and he was more than ready.
He nuzzled at her body, kissing the flesh, roaming around the full white breasts, lifting a breast to kiss moist flesh under the bobbing globe. His hand roamed downward to her waist. He smoothed the flesh, then thrust his fingers under the panty-girdle to grip the edge of the garment and pull it downward. She lifted her hips to help him get the garment to her thighs, to her knees. He sat up, pulled off the girdle and stockings.
Then he gazed at the body stretched out before him, ready for his pleasure. Long, brown, curly hair to her shoulders framed a lovely oval face and dark brown eyes. Her throat was white, a fascinating pulse beat in the hollow at the base of her throat. He bent to kiss it, and the pulse-beat increased in rapidity.
Her hands went to the sash of his robe. He let her unfasten it, open the robe, put her hands teasingly on his waist. Her fingers roamed over his hairy chest, tracing the muscle to below his waist as he kissed her throat and nuzzled again at her breasts.
"Jed-Jed-" she whispered huskily.
Her fingers explored, caressed, wandered freely. This was the way he loved a woman-ready, willing, overflowing with passion to match his.
He sat up against the tall headboard of the bed and drew her to sit on his knees. She smiled, facing him and put her arms around his neck. She knew this game. They had played it before.
She put her face down on his neck and kissed his throat. He drew her closer. His hands lifted her and set her in place on his lap. He let her down slowly, squeezing, caressing the springy flesh.
He felt a jolt as they came together. She nestled closer. He held her tighter, and his flesh became inflamed with a welcoming, mysterious fever. This was what he wanted. This was his desire.
They held each other tightly, hands exploring, titillating, to increase pleasure. Her lips nibbled wetly at his neck. He felt her mouth burning his flesh. He put his face down into the softness where her throat Joined her shoulder, and kissed the fragrance of her body.
Closer, harder, more deeply they aroused each other. Her breath panted from her mouth. He heard his own ragged breaths as he began to move her on his strong thighs. Her arms closed convulsively around his neck, her sighs rumbled against his throat.
Flesh rubbed against flesh. Her breasts were crushed against his hard chest. He felt the pointed, licking flames as she rubbed deliberately. Her hips shivered in his hands as he moved her.
Their bodies were trembling. She cuddled closer. Her knees jerked. She cried out, and kissed his throat.
He pulled her hard, held her tight, as he climbed high into the mountains of heat and fire. He crashed on the peak, and shuddered in a wild ecstasy of release. At the same time she was calling his name and collapsing limply in his arms.
They lay across the bed to recover. This was only the beginning, thought Jed. He had wanted a woman all week.
He soon wanted her again. He rolled over, bent over her hungrily, drew her into his arms. She smiled, eyes still closed, and stretched lazily as he began to kiss her again.
The breasts stood up tautly, the swollen apples ripe. He kissed the red cherry-tips of the swollen breasts. Here was what he needed. He kissed her shoulders and arms, down to her waist. Under his expert lips, she moved in a slow pattern of rising desire.
He pretended to tire, and lay back. As he had hoped, she raised up, bent eagerly over him.
"Jed," she begged. "Don't stop. Don't stop now-"
He laughed up at her teasingly. "If you want more, help yourself. There's plenty."
"Oh ... you ... devil...." She accepted the challenge and swung. He gripped her waist and pulled her close to him. He grinned up at her, at the frowning, serious, intent, beautiful face of the woman above him. He watched the breasts bob heavily as she moved. They melted together. She crouched down to achieve the satisfaction of her roused desires.
He reached for a breast, pulled it down to his mouth. He kissed it as she lay on him. She was all woman, passion, fire, hunger, depths, mystery. He wanted her, needed her, to complete himself.
Presently he rolled her over, and urged her to finish. The finish was also the beginning of more. More and more, desire and fire, caresses and embraces, wild cries and panting breath, and sighs of satisfaction.