Chapter 2
Vance Hager, account executive at Hall Parnell & Wayne, was happy to discover that Nela Varese, HP&W's strikingly attractive art director, had not come to work that morning.
With this in mind, he quickly cleared up his important items of the day and called Nela a little before noon.
"Nela, honey. I hear you're a little under the weather."
"Yes, I thought I'd take the day."
Nela didn't sound at all under the weather. She sounded vital, warm, and languorously cordial.
"Shall I come over and stroke your fevered brow?"
"I think that would be wonderful."
"Fine. I'll be there before one."
"Can't you make it earlier, darling?"
"I'll try."
On the way to the upper East Side along traffic-choked streets, Vance pondered this odd relationship that had been dropped into his lap.
The affair had been going on for six months now and had started about a year after his marriage to Mildred.
A blazingly beautiful Hungarian woman of thirty-five, Nela had shucked her husband in Europe and had never remarried. Still, she was pretty much of a one-man woman and Vance was sure he was the only man with whom she had an understanding.
Nela needed a man for only one reason-to go to bed with. Otherwise, she was totally self-sufficient and required no male shoulder to lean on.
Essentially, Vance had been the negative element in the relationship. The whole thing began one night after an emergency conference on the Blair Chemical account. The meeting broke up about nine o'clock and Vance, with a train to wait for, asked Nela to join him for a quick cocktail. He'd had absolutely no ulterior motive at the time and did not quite know how he had ended up in Nela's apartment.
Later, during a lull in one of their bouts, she told him.
"I've had my eye on you for several weeks, darling."
He'd tickled the ample nipple on her left breast and asked, "But why me? There are a dozen more attractive men in the office."
"You underestimate yourself, Vance. In plain truth, you're the most physically attractive man I've ever met. I was certain from the first that you would not be disappointing in bed."
Vance was forty-one. Entirely without conceit, he was only vaguely aware of his dark, slim good looks. And so far as his passionate skill was concerned, he viewed that with abstract satisfaction. He was glad he pleased women.
"You're a flatterer," he said.
"No, I-not Nela," she replied. "But that was only a part of the attraction. There was more."
"What else?"
"You seemed so safe."
"By that you mean-"
"First, I wanted a married man. That way there is less chance of complications. I was not looking for a brief affair. I was only looking for what every normal woman needs and is entitled to."
Thus she set the ground rules. That was the only time he had ever met Nela after five, this being what might have been called an afternoon affair.
"I am not taking you away from your wife," Nela had said. "I merely borrow you for a few hours when the urge gets strong. At night, you should be home with your family."
As his driver honked senselessly at Fifty-seventh Street and Park Avenue, Vance Hager smiled at those memories. Nela was tremendous in bed. She reminded him of both Grace-before she fell ill-and Mildred, in their avid, uninhibited demand for love.
He considered himself very lucky at having found women of this type, especially when he heard other men moan about the indifference of their wives. It was not luck of course. His success in this direction resulted from his own lack of aggressiveness. He had never stalked a woman in his life. He would not have known how to go about talking a woman to bed. Thus, he had known intimately only those women who functioned aggressively in this area.
Vance Hager would always find good bed partners.
So, all in all, the relationship was an excellent one, he thought. His feeling for Mildred remained the same. He was not in love with Nela and never would be. So no one was being hurt.
Mildred was being hurt, however, and his unawareness of this perhaps reflected a subconscious conceit. It had never occurred to him that he could not amply satisfy two women. Thus, he'd attached no great importance to the three inactive months he and Mildred had gone through. That was a matter of no vital concern. After all, they'd been married a year and a half. In the beginning their bedroom relationship had been fantastic in its ecstatic heights. He had literallv devoured Mildred and had been devoured in return.
But a good marriage does not hinge completely on bed. The fires reduce themselves to sensible proportions after the first flurries of delight, and bed assumes its rightful place. He and Mildred were merely in a period of lull; of adjustment to sleeping with each other every night.
Thus did he rationalize the situation, refusing to believe that his needs and desires in the physical realm were being efficiently served by Nela ..
He found her wearing the transparent black gown she received him in when pure sensuality dominated her mood. This meant that she wanted to get down to business, that she did not want to spend precious time building sharp desire; that desire was already there.
"You're totally lovely, darling."
"That's from anticipating you, Vance. Waiting was difficult. Would you like a drink?"
"I think not, thanks. I've been breaking myself of the midday habit."
"How are things at the office. Mad as usual?"
He was enthralled by the regal grace of her carriage, by her obvious pride in the body she was about to give him. "They would miss you if you were only gone an hour."
Nela turned, naked except for the thinly transparent gown, and allowed the light from the window to reveal her lush contours in detail. There was ho danger of peepers. Nela's apartment was a luxurious three-room showplace on the twenty-second floor of an expensive co-op.
Vance Hager's desire flared at the sight of her naked loveliness. They had a potent chemical affinity for each other to which they both responded instantly.
Nela's legs were long, the ankles slim, but above the knees they curved out into ample fullness leading to her broad hips. Her narrow waist in turn flowed upward into breasts that were in complete accord with her other specifications.
She approached him gracefully and he caught the exciting allure of her. This had always seemed strange to him-that what would have disgusted him with the average woman, struck him like the bouquet of a fine wine with Nela.
Once, in a high moment of wild, unbridled passion, he'd described this to her in terms that were justified only under such specific conditions:
"You're a kind of madness I don't understand. You make a man burn until the fire has to be put out."
She'd gasped her reply as though choking. "Don't talk so much. Put the fire out."
A few moments later, he'd made her scream.
But at this stage, their conversation was always deceptively impersonal. He removed his shirt.
"We're going to lose the Bender account I think," Nela said.
Tossing the shirt on a chair, he asked, "What makes you think so?"
"Kellman is after them."
Nela picked the shirt up, folded it, and moved toward the bedroom.
"I know that," Vance said, "but Parnell is handling Bender personally."
"What makes you think Parnell is such a wizard? I don't believe he impresses Bender in the least."
They were in the bedroom now and Vance removed his undershirt and Nela came forward to run light hands down his chest.
"Parnell's a high-pressure boy. He built the agency."
"He's lost accounts before."
His clothing disposed of, he cupped her face in his hands and brushed her lips lightly with his own. "At least, it's Parnell's responsibility. He won't be able to blame this on some poor account exec."
Nela laughed deep in her throat, a musical laugh, as she ran her palms tantalizingly over him. That was a gesture of studied sensuality and Vance got the odd impression of a storm gathering, the restraint of pent-up power waiting for the moment of release.
He'd often wondered where Nela had acquired such practiced loving skills. No, that was not the word; amorous skills, because there was very little love to what they did together. There was only passion for the pleasure involved.
"The things men do on Madison Avenue to make a living," she mumured. "The pressures they take in order to win the wherewithall for the good life."
Vance slipped his shoes off and peeled away his socks. As he did so, his head was lowered and he was close to Nela and the intoxication of her pent-up need and desire totally prepared him for what lay ahead.
Nela raised her eyes as he straightened. She looked into his and laughed softly; a chuckling laugh that ran up his spine. She moved backward slowly, drawing him with her toward the bed.
"You will not go back this afternoon."
"No."
"You didn't make an appointment?"
"No."
She laughed again, her teeth gleaming. "Once you made a three o'clock appointment. Was that in self-defense?"
"That doesn't matter. Not now."
Her eyes turned shaded and sensual. "Hello, Vance Hager."
"Hello Nela Varese."
Their mouths met. He felt her lips open and he knew she would have bitten him if he'd given her the chance. But he jerked his head back the instant he felt the touch of her teeth.
They stood by the bed, close together. She whispered against his ear.
"You're all-man, Vance."
"I'm flattered."
Her breast was pressing against him and she drew him toward the bed and again sought his lips. Then she went slowly backward, pulling him with her, holding him close, keeping the pressure of his body against hers.
"More. Oh, more, darling!" She whispered the demand through clenched teeth with her head now thrown back and her neck muscles taut.
He controlled his desire to take her with violence and abandon. Complete release would come later. At the moment the delight was in knowing the great mutual need and holding that in check behind a wall of will power as water is held by the wall of a dam. Pressing her mouth cruelly, he allowed his own mouth to move tight across her cheek until he found her ear. The resulting shudder wracked through her whole body. Her hands on his back became claws.
But the pain was good. In reflexive response, he jerked her hair and drew a wordless "aargh" from her tight throat.
There was a grimace of impersonal hatred on her face as she retaliated with her fingernails, driving them deep into his back.
But she did not rake them through his flesh. Even with their instinctive desire to destroy each other, she could not become reckless. She had explained this earlier in their affair. "I'd love to mark you up, darling, but I've got to remember that you're borrowed property."
For some strange reason, he'd resented that. "I'm glad the same doesn't apply to you. Or is there someone who might object if I left scars?"
She'd been angered in turn, her reply a question. "Do you think we actually hate each other?"
"I've heard it said that love and hate are shades of the same color."
"You put that so beautifully."
But now there were no such philosophical wonderings. Gritting his teeth, he applied himself to the task of satisfying his own needs and hers. Up to this moment, she had dominated the relationship. But now the leadership changed hands as Vance asserted his heritage as the male of the species. His actions became vicious.
After a while, she cried. "No! No more! Not now! I can't stand that!"
Thenceforth, the episode took on a semblance of rape. Nela struggled and twisted. Vance increased the force and ferocity of his rising passion. That was as thought he were punishing her for her sins; as though he were exacting mad vengeance for wrongs she had done him.
They were approaching the breaking point. Sweat poured out of him and dripped from her own overheated body. Her eyes became set and wild.
Soon the scream would be ripped from her.
That happened as she pulled his head down and put her open mouth against his. She screamed against his teeth, her wracking, agonized breath rasping harshly as she gasped.
The mutual finish was almost unbearable. Afterward, he collapsed beside her wet body and it was a long time before either of them moved.
But this was only the beginning. When their strength was restored, there was much more; many varieties of love-making, various techniques expertly applied. Until, shortly after five o'clock, they'd made the full circle. And that was over....
Nela discarded the black transparent gown for a green robe that gave her a regal appearance, and when she saw Vance to the door, there was no kiss, there were no sentimental endearments. Nela extended her hand.
Vance took it. Her fingers were firm and cool. Her smile reflected complete self-control, almost a reserve.
"This afternoon was nice, Vance."
He hesitated. "What will you do this evening?"
That could have meant several things-a reluctance to leave her, the dawning of jealous possession, or merely a hope that she had something to occupy her pleasantly.
He never knew how she interpreted his question but her reaction was always definite and positive. She squeezed his hand slightly and then dropped it.
"You get on home to your wife and kids," she said. "They'll be expecting you."
These were her words but they obviously meant: Let's not let this get out of hand. Everything's working fine. Let's keep things that way.
And Vance Hager was quite content to do so....