Chapter 8
Not surprisingly, Jed was rather weary that night and on Saturday. His cheek had a raw bruise on it that needed some medical attention. The rest of his system recovered more naturally from the strain he had put upon it.
He grinned every time he thought of Russell's surprised outrage as Jed had opened the door. Ah, revenge is sweet, very sweet, Jed decided gleefully, especially a revenge so carefully calculated to prick the balloon of Russell's ego. To seduce his new young wife, and then to lick Russell in a fight right in front of said wife-that was very neat. He congratulated himself.
And Kittie had been a nice conquest, unexpectedly good. A bonus, one might say. Sherry with the dinner. Or a glass of stout red wine, one might suggest more appropriately. Yes, that analogy was better. Stout red wine, flushing the cheeks, and heating the body.
Whereas Edythe-Jed's eyes grew wistful and dreamy. Edythe was more like a vintage wine, a champagne of the rarest quality.
By Saturday night he was quite recovered from his bout with Kittie. She had been interesting for the moment, but now that he had satisfied his desire for revenge on Russell he felt little more curiosity to see Kittie again. She was, after all, obvious.
His thoughts turned more definitely to Edythe. He closed his eyes, picturing her in the blue dress, the lights on her blonde hair, her dark blue eyes wary as he questioned her. He pictured her, smiling, as she had lain on the bed, vulnerable, passionate, her unexpected responses inflaming him further. Yes, Edythe was the kind of girl who lingered on in his mind.
If only he knew how to reach her. Jed had tried the telephone company, various friends and enemies. No one would admit knowing how to reach Edythe Westfall. He could have asked his fiance, Andrea Searle, but even if Andrea did know she probably would not tell him. He grimaced. He hadn't thought of Andrea for a while, and now that he had, the memories of her pouting and anger were more vivid than any other memories of her.
He put Andrea out of his mind, deliberately. He did not want to see her now. If only he could reach Edythe. He knew how to entice her to him. If only he could reach her.
He spent Sunday longing for her, thinking of her lithe, slim body twisting in his arms as he built them both up to ecstasy. He had to have her again.
On Monday morning, he phoned her office. She was not in. He was stunned with the keen disappointment. He left a message for her to call, then was on edge all day waiting.
She called at four-ten. When Bess told Jed that Edythe was on the line, he grabbed for the phone like a parachutist pulling the ripcord.
"Edythe!" he said. "Where have you been?"
"Jed? Is something wrong? Has anything happened to Larry?" Her voice sounded scared.
He realized he had sounded too urgent. He tried to smooth his voice and manner. Bess glared at him suspiciously before twitching her hips and strolling back to her desk in the other room.
He lowered his voice and turned his back to the door. "Why, no, Edythe," he said, more calmly. "I was thinking about you last weekend. Some things have come up. Nothing urgent, but I must talk to you soon."
"Talk to me? The way you talked when I came to your apartment?" Her voice was sweetly sarcastic.
He grinned. "I thought you enjoyed our-talk," he said, significantly. "We seemed to have a great deal in common."
Pause. He didn't want her to hang up. He went on hastily.
"But it is about Larry. I've heard a couple more things I want to discuss with you. I didn't realize how deeply involved-" He stopped, deliberately. "Well, we can't talk on the phone. If you won't come up to my apartment, let's meet for dinner somewhere."
"No, No, I can't do that."
"Your apartment then?"
"No! I-I mean, no, that's impossible. I-I guess I'd better come up to your place." Her tone was cold, chill. But he grinned like a satyr about to pounce on an unsuspecting nymph.
"Fine," he said cheerfully. "How about this evening at eight?"
She hesitated. He did not intend to give her time to have sober second thoughts.
"I-I don't know-"
"I'm not free again until Friday, I'm afraid," he lied, deliberately. He would have broken a dozen dates to meet her, but the fact was he didn't have dates made.
"Well-all right." Her tone was sullen. "I'll come up. About eight. But I can only stay a short time!"
"Whatever you say," he said jubilantly.
He hung up, thought a minute, then decided to leave the office for the day so she could not call off the date. He walked out, patted Bess on the shoulder as he went. He hadn't made love to Bess for a while, but she had started being possessive. Just as well to let her fume for a while, and worry.
He occupied himself with buying more champagne, searching for the right flowers. He bought some hothouse violets, several orchids, a dozen roses, and had the girl arrange two vases for him to carry back to the apartment.
The flowers and champagne required two trips up in the elevator, but all was set by a quarter to eight. Jed hummed happily as he changed to his silk dressing gown. Flowers, champagne, warmth, sympathy, and Edythe would be his for another glorious night.
Edythe arrived promptly at eight. As he opened the door to her, she tried to look stern and severe and haughty.
"Edythe! It's wonderful to see you!" he exclaimed exuberantly.
She came in, slowly, as though timid and unsure of herself. He closed and locked the door. He put his hands on her shoulders to take the thin jacket she wore over the rose-colored cotton print dress. She slipped out of the jacket, away from his hands, and walked over to the windows.
As the evenings had grown longer these May weeks, he liked to leave the curtains open to see the brilliant sky reflecting the sunset and afterglow. She stood entranced as the lights of the city flicked on beneath and beyond them. He came up behind her and looked also.
"My favorite view," he said.
"Oh, it's lovely. You're very lucky to have this place. Mine is so dark-" She stopped abruptly.
"Where do you live?" he asked, as though casually. "I was trying to reach you on Sunday, but no luck. What's your home phone number?"
"I don't give it out," she said curtly. "I don't like being disturbed at home." She turned from the windows, went over toward a chair, then paused at the vase of orchids and violets. Her blonde head bent, she sniffed deeply at the violets. "Oh-heavenly. I love violets," she murmured.
He stored up that bit of information for future reference.
She continued to a straight chair and sat down primly, knees straight, feet planted firmly. Only her hands betrayed nervousness, fluttering to straighten her full skirt, to touch her belt, to move the cuff of a sleeve.
"You said-about Larry-" she reminded him.
"Oh, yes." He drew the curtains deliberately, and the heavy red drapes swung shut to close them in together in the intimate warmth. "I learned something the other day. When was it?"
Her hands twisted as he paused to reflect.
"Oh, yes, it was Friday," he went on. "Excuse me a minute. I'll get something to drink."
"I don't care for anything, thank you," she interposed quickly.
"Champagne? I got some good stuff today. I enjoy champagne. Such a civilized drink." He went on out to the kitchen, brought in the bucket of ice, bottle, and glasses.
The pop of the cork made her jerk. She was nervous. But she did not refuse the glass when he offered it. The wine was pale yellow, bubbly, prickling the nostrils, faintly chilled.
He lifted his glass. "To-you, and whatever you want most," he said lightly.
She smiled, sipped. "Urn. Good. I wonder why wine, especially champagne, inspires one to offer a toast? Traditon?"
"I don't know. Champagne, any good wine, always seems like a celebration to me. Perhaps that's it." He sat down on the couch, the champagne bucket near enough to reach without getting up. If he managed this right, within a few minutes, half an hour at most, she would be in his arms. He was amused that his hand was shaking slightly. The excitement of the chase was delightful.
She finished her glass at the same moment he finished his. He filled their glasses again, glad he had a second bottle casually under the coffee table in reserve. He could switch the bottle quickly and inconspicuously.
"You said that on Friday you learned something," she prodded finally.
"Ah, yes. It was then I learned that Russell Thorpe and Kittie spent their honeymoon in Florida last February."
Her face changed expression to a taut alertness. Russell's name had the power to make her wary and anxious.
"So?"
"And Larry was in Florida at the same time."
Her red tongue licked her lips. He watched it eagerly. In a few minutes, those lips might be responding to his, that tongue caressing his. At the same time, he was curious about her reactions.
"Florida is a big state," she said, her blue eyes lowered, the lashes fringing her pink cheeks. "And Larry is a business rival of Russell Thorpe. Are you suggesting they might have made a deal?"
"Russell made some deals. I don't know what Larry had to do with them." He studied her. The news would be out soon if it wasn't already. "At a stockholders' meeting of our firm last Thursday, Thorpe sprang a surprise. He had bought the stock of several small owners and had the proxies of several others."
Her blue eyes opened wide. She gazed straight at him. She was shocked, surprised, and, yes, afraid.
"Does-does he get control then?"
"Not yet. With luck I can keep some control," he said grimly. He did not tell her he was fighting to get proxies or to buy the shares of all the rest of the stockholders that Thorpe had not bought out. "But it was revealed to me that Russell met several of our stockholders in Florida, held business meetings, and talked often with Larry."
"That must have been quite a honeymoon," she said drily.
"Yeah. But that's not for me. When I make love to a woman, I like to give her my undivided attention."
She ignored the remark, though her cheeks turned a deeper pink.
"And Larry was there," she said.
"Yeah. And I doubt if he was playing poker. I understand that he had very little money to spend."
"He has a very good income," she said sharply, as though Jed had attacked her. "I don't know why he's always short of funds."
"But he is?"
She nodded. He took the glass from her, filled it again. She had not noticed a lock of blonde hair that had fallen down across her forehead. She was getting tipsy, looking like a beautiful bacchante. He smiled at her tenderly.
"I never know what he's up to. He won't tell me. He won't confide in me any more. We used to be very close."
"He's in trouble. He doesn't want to get you in trouble," Jed suggested.
She nodded, then shook her head vehemently. "No, no, that's not it." She pushed the lock of hair back, but it bobbed down again. "He's not in trouble. He wants to save me-save-" She stopped, shook her head, muttered something, then drank the rest of the champagne in the glass.
"Save you from what?" urged Jed, too eagerly. She glared at him doubtfully.
"No. No. Larry's a good boy. We're both mixed up, that's all. Both starved. Want love so much, get all mixed up-wrong guys-all mixed up-" She leaned forward, set down the glass, stood up carefully. "I-have to-leave now-" she said, enunciating each word with precision. "I-have to-go home."
"So soon? I thought we'd dance a while. The music is good." He hastened to turn it up. She had almost revealed something, but had caught herself from talking too much. He came back to her where she swayed, took her in his arms.
"I love to dance," she said, her fluid body yielding to his arm. "Father thought-silly waste of time. Love to dance."
"He thought everything but business was a waste of time," said Jed, moving her slowly around the coffee table to a stretch of bare floor. He was feeling the champagne, too. He felt light and bubbly, full of heat and excitement. But part of that feeling came from the pressure of Edythe's hand in his, the pressure of her light body when it touched his.
"That's-right. Love-waste of time." She laughed, bitterly. "So Larry and I-all mixed up. The craving for love-has betrayed me-before this, Jed. Oh, before this. You aren't the first man in my life, you know that."
"I know," he said, next to her ear.
"Betrayed-" she muttered. "Genius for asking-to be betrayed-craving for love-understand that?"
"I can understand, yes," he said.
He was storing away all these little remarks, these revelations. Some day he would be able to put them together like a Chinese puzzle, and they would make a design he would recognize.
"You-understand women. All kinds of women. Easy for you-to make love. Find out what makes a girl tick, then set her swinging like-like a pen-pendulum-tick-tock, tick-tock-"
"That sounds good." He pressed his cheek against her hair, dancing her closer to the bedroom door.
"You're too attractive. Black curly hair, blue eyes-" She leaned back to stare at him. "They're sort of smoky blue. Tall, dark, and handsome. Aren't we women fools, to keep falling for an attractive man?"
"It doesn't seem foolish to me," he said. "It seems very nice. Very natural. The attraction of opposites. You're tall and blonde and a very attractive woman." He swung her inside the bedroom door.
"You like women-too much. Can't trust," she muttered. She must have realized about then that he was directing her toward the bed. She stiffened, jerked away. "Oh, no! I'm not going to-not again-"
"Come on, Edythe," he coaxed, catching hold of her waist. "We had fun last time. You enjoyed it, too."
She shook her blonde head obstinately, pulling rigidly when he tried to draw her to the bed.
"No. No. I won't. I'm leaving."
He caught her closer, pushed her against the wall, used arms and legs and body to hold her as she struggled. She was trying to pull away. But she was tipsy, not in control of herself. And she was weakening, responding to the masculinity of his attack.
"Edythe, Edythe," he murmured, near her ear. He kissed the ear, the flushed cheek, trailed kisses down to her throat. "You want me as much as I want you. Don't fight me."
She flared up in sudden anger. "You do this on purpose. You get me up here to talk about Larry-then you seduce me all over again. Damn you!"
She really fought for a minute, anger making her strong. He held her fiercely tight, wanting her more than ever. She was not just fighting him. She was fighting her own strong and conflicting hungers.
He held on, through the struggle, as she fought to get free of his arms, to slip away from his wooing body. Deliberately, he pressed his hips against hers, so she could feel the hard readiness of his body.
"You like me, really you do," he murmured. "You have hungers, too. Why not enjoy one more night? Why not? Won't hurt anybody. Why shouldn't we enjoy each other?"
"I hate being-used!" she panted, struggling to kick at him.
He laughed, deep in his throat. "In bed? I love being used in bed. Come on to bed, Edythe, and use me."
"Oh-you-devil-"
Her body was abruptly pliant. She stopped struggling. He drew her over to the bed, watching warily for signs of new rebellion. But she had given in completely.
He undressed her, swiftly, delighting in her submission. She let him draw off the cotton dress, lay it aside. Then she let him slide off the slip, to reveal her in rose-pink brassiere and panties. Her white flesh glowed in the light of the bedlamp.
He wasted no time in unfastening the brassiere, releasing her full breasts. He wanted to stop and play with her breasts. Instead he kept to the business of stripping her bare of all confining clothes. He slid down the panties, pulled them off, pulled off shoes and stockings. Then she was naked to his gaze. Eagerly he stared at her, holding her gently in his hands, turning her to look at the sleek back, the rounded hips, the long legs.
"Lie down," he said hoarsely. She lay down obediently across the bed. Her fists were clenching and unclenching. She put one hand on her breast as she watched him undress. The dark blue eyes were dazed, half-closed. He saw how she pressed her hand impatiently on her breast. She was eager for him now.
He ripped off his clothes, stripped naked, and lay down beside her. She turned at once to him, lying on her side. One arm slipped under his head. Yes, she was ready, bubbling over with desire.
He drew her closer, pulled her to him as he lay half on his side, half on his back. She raised up to bend over him. The red mouth came to meet his. When they had kissed, tentatively, her mouth approached his again.
He caught one firm breast in his hand and manipulated it till it was swollen. Then he put his hand on the smooth hips and pulled her to him. They clung together, both eager, ready, impatient for this meeting.
He pressed firmly home, close to the silken flesh. She sighed, softly, open-mouthed, and settled against his body, curling herself to receive him. She was holding him tightly with her hands and arms. His hand on her hips guided her, held her. She smiled before him, receiving, silent, desirous.
His hand stroked the rounded hips. Her leg jerked spasmodically. Her breasts were heaving as she drew faster breaths. He put pressure on her, cunningly, and she writhed, her hips grinding.
He held still, motionless. She jerked away, met him again, seeking to build herself to a peak. He helped her with his hand on her hips, back, forward, around and around.
She rested, panting from her efforts. A fine film of perspiration covered her body. Jed took the initiative from her, held her steady, kissed her hard, again, again, again, putting pressure on her.
She cried out, crumpled up. He felt it as her flesh quivered with ecstasy. He went on, compelled by his own desires, until he hit the peak. They kicked off into space, off, far, high, spinning through the sky, on fire with the sweetest, wildest pleasure the Earth could provide. They clung, wet hands slipping on slick bodies, to prolong the frenzied delight, sliding on the bed, falling on each other, wrapped tight, limbs clutching.
She seemed half-conscious when it was done. He laid her down tenderly on her back, and kissed a swollen breast gently.
He wanted to rest also, but there was something he wanted to do while she was limp.
He got up. "I'll get some champagne to revive us," he said.
She smiled faintly, her eyes still closed, her legs jerking spasmodically.
He went out into the other room, found her pocket-book. He searched it, found a wallet. There was an identification card in it, as he had hoped. There was the address and phone number. He memorized it quickly, with a triumphant grin. Now, he could find her when he pleased.
"Jed?" she called.
"Coming."
He put the pocketbook back where he had found it, picked up the champagne and bucket, and their two glasses, and went back to the bedroom. She was sitting up, slowly, her hands brushing back the long blonde hair that had fallen about her shoulders during their struggles.
"I-ought to-leave," she said.
"Not a chance," said Jed. "The night is young, and you are beautiful. I plan to make this a very memorable occasion. There's more champagne in the kitchen." He filled a glass of the chilled wine, handed it to her with a smile.
He filled his glass, sat down beside her on the bed to drink.
"May I offer a toast this time?" asked Edythe. "Help yourself."
"To-a very memorable occasion," she said, a little devilish grin on her lips. He loved the wicked sparkle in her dark blue eyes.
He drank a few swallows, then bent to kiss a provocative breast that swayed near him. She kept on sipping the champagne as he kissed her breasts and waist.
When their glasses were empty, he set them aside on the table. Edythe lay back, her arms behind her head, her lithe body stretching lazily. He put his hand on the hips that wiggled so delightfully as she made herself comfortable. His thumb smoothed the tender flesh. He bent and kissed her passionately near his hand. The legs were firm and warm, and a tender perfume emanated from her throat.
He bent over the welcoming body, eager to know her again, more thoroughly.
She did not resist any more that night. Rather, she helped him eagerly to make it a most memorable occasion. Long after the champagne was gone, and night had wrapped the city in darkness, they explored with each other's bodies the deep delights of caresses, embraces, movements, convulsions. All the world was lost to them, but the tender touch of mouth on mouth, hands seeking and learning, legs twining, bodies twisting to plunge more deeply into an involvement that seemed to last forever.
Jed learned with his lips every fragile sweetness of her skin, every inch of the woman he desired from the top of her blonde head to the toes on her pink feet. He kissed her with passion, with cunning design to rouse her yet again, with hunger that could not be satiated. He finished, to want her at once again and again. And she was not passive under him. Every nerve of her body seemed tuned to a responding passion. He had only to touch her, to whisper her name, and she vibrated with renewed verve.
They made beautiful music that night, inventing harmonies that only they could hear. When morning came, and she left him, Jed lay still to relive the incredible melodies of that night.
He could hardly believe it. Edythe. The woman of his dreams. Had he dreamed her?
Then he grinned, triumphantly, and leaned up on his elbow. On a note pad beside the bed he scribbled the precious information-the address and phone number of Edythe's apartment.
If she would not return to him-he could still find her!