Chapter 18
Gail stood at the window, looking out at die blue sky, a smile of triumph on her lace. Janice Bailey had proven a good friend. Also, smart. And shacking up with her for three days had been a small price to pay for getting rid of the encumbrance-that unwanted brat. Janice had loaned her the money for the abortion and it hadn't been much worse than going to the dentist. Only, less hygienic. She shuddered, seeing herself prone on that bare kitchen table, watching the fat woman approach, instrument in hand. All she needed, the ex-nurse had advised afterwards, was to take it easy.
Well, that was exactly what she had in mind. She had Jack where she wanted him-worried. And, in due time she would have a fall and announce sadly that there would be no baby. Jack was as dumb as ever to the ways of women. Meantime, she would be agreeable and accommodating. Thus her marriage was safe-till the right guy came along.
Now she thought about that intriguing-looking brunette Jack had been keeping in his room. I have underrated my husband, she reflected. He still can pick them. Well, she would hold that over his head in case he became difficult.
She walked into the bathroom and stood in front of die mirror, fondling her nice round breasts. They looked better than before. The slight mishap had not impaired their looks. Humming, she went under the shower rubbing her skin to a pink glow. She would nap a little, get dressed, and take a walk about town. Sometime that husband of hers had to come back.
She donned her Chinese pajamas, a gift of Janice, then walked up to the dresser, pulling out drawers, running her hand beneath piles of shirts and underwear, finding nothing. He had taken his briefcase along. Nothing to read. She looked at two fat volumes on the desk. Law books. She saw the gaily colored book and picked it up. Seed of Hate, an intriguing title, she reflected. As she turned the volume in her hand her eyes stared spell bound at Myra's portrait. The book shook in her hand; she had to sit down.
She spent the next few hours reading, now dropping the book on the rug. Her little sister had soared to celebrity hoisting herself on Gail's hate. It was too funny. And somehow Jack had found out, had read, and now knew she, Gail, had connived to marry him ... Where was Myra? And had the two of them gotten together? It would be interesting if she and Gail met. She wondered whether writing the book, Myra had rid herself of her love for Jack. Her own position, she felt, was unassailable. She called room service and ordered a nice complete breakfast, no use spending her own money.
She was at her third cup of coffee when the phone rang. Should she? But of course, who knows, it might be some other doll eager for Jack's dough.
She listed the receiver. "Yes?"
"May I speak to Jack Michaels, please?"
Gad gripped the receiver tightly, trying to find her voice. "Myra," she said, "is it really you? How wonderful." She perched on the side of the chair.
She heard the deep intake of breath at the other end of the wire, then Myra's voice, very low. "Gad, what are you doing in Los Angeles?"
"Most natural thing in the world-I came to join Jack. Or, didn't he tell you? I suppose you two got together," she added...."Oh, I just had a chance to read your book. Very clever-and illuminating. And although I came off as the vdlain I enjoyed the story. What are you doing in this town?"
There was a long silence. Then Myra's voice, sounding flat. "They're making it into a movie. I'm here to help with the adaptation. I-I ran into Jack accidentally at a party, and I was wondering-wanting to know how you were."
"How sweet of you. And I'm just fine. I'm aching to meet you-I don't know any celebrities. I hope you wrote it all off-your hate, I mean, in the book. Now we can be friends."
"Well, glad everything's okay with you. I am rather busy. I'll give you a ring."
"Not so fast. After all, you're the only sister I have. So, why not get together?"
"I have a crowded schedule."
"So has Jack. But I have time on my hands. How about cocktails down here, in the lounge? Say about six?"
"I'll see whether I can. I'll give you a ring. So long." The receiver went down on the other end.
Meanwhile, Myra was dressing for her date with Sid Graham. Not that she wanted so see her ex-lover for sentimental reasons. It was good publicity, she had been told. For the forthcoming movie. Her head was reeling and she tried to put some order into her thoughts. Sitting at her dresser, painting her lips an enticing new mauve shade, she recalled the phone conversation with her sister Gail. Somehow, seeing Jack at that party without her, Myra had figured she had left his life. Also, from what he had let her know ... But apparently Gail was still very much in the picture. She, Myra, was through with that vain Ted Howell, that was certain. It had been a mistake. The man was utterly hollow, bereft of feeling, a two-legged ego. And seeing Jack again had awakened the old feeling. Was it dead? Should she meet Gail, see both of them together, and-find a new love for herself? Men were after her now more than ever; she could pick and choose. Also, another book had taken shape in her mind. Maybe writing was her life and men would be just a pleasant pastime. But her heart was yearning, beating unruly in her breast.
She arose and flattened the tight grey skirt over her hips. The embroidered sky-blue sweater revealed the rounded contours of her breast. The new tousled hairdo made her look impish. Yes, she thought, walking into the living room, she would have no trouble finding a man.
She went to open the door to Sid Graham's impatient knock.
"Hi gorgeous." He bent to kiss her cheek, then stepped back to really look at her. "Hm, looks appetizing. And I'm starved." His arms wrapped about her and he kissed her mouth, parting her lips with his tongue. "Saved a little for me?" he whispered, pressing himself against her.
"Stop it, Sid." She freed herself. "This is business." She preceded him to the couch. "I'll just get my hat and coat."
He draped his lanky frame over the green upholstery, his fingers running through his unruly shock of red hair. "And I thought we'd spend a little time together-alone."
She had her hat and coat on, facing him. "Now Sid, we had a nice interlude. Now let's be friends."
"Lovers are the best friends," he said, pulling her down beside him, taking off the pert blue hat and flopping it down on a nearby chair. "And in this business, baby, you need friends. I intend to do a profile on you. Of course, I like this profile best." His hands were on the sweater, fondling what was beneath it. "Take off that coat." He slipped it off her shoulders so she had to get out of it not to wrinkle it. "You know, I really go for you. You're so nice and fresh. Unspoiled. Much too good for that despoiler of women-Howell. I had to slap him down. He talks too much."
"You mean-he talked about me?"
"Well, I shut him up. But in the future keep away from those screen lovers. Now, do I rate a kiss as defender of your reputation?"
He didn't wait but took her in his arms and she let him kiss her, clutch her breasts, feeling excitement getting the best of her. And why not? she thought. The best way to forget about one man is to get involved with another. She stared at Sid's angular face in which the huge nose was a rocky promontory, at his thin lips and the stubborn chin. His small grey eyes were alert as was his brain.
"Now will you take off that cute sweater and that form-fitting skirt, or shall I?"
She slipped off the sweater, unzipped the skirt and stepped out of it, depositing both on a chair.
"Hm, fascinating." He passed his long tongue over his lips, evaluating her. He arose and unhooked die bra that fell to the rug. His hands reached forward clutching big snow balls. "They feel wonderful. Like swansdown." The half slip and panties came off. He undid the garter belt, rolled down her stockings and took them off. "Delightfully delicious." He turned her around and let his eyes wander along the landscape of her body. "There is no one lovelier than you," he whispered, kissing her nipples. He lifted her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom, depositing her gently on the sheet.
Unashamed, she watched him undress. She intended to enjoy herself. All lanky leanness, he stood over her, kissing her eyes, cheeks and lips, settling on her soft throat.
"I know what baby likes," he knelt by the bed, laving her body with light, fluttering tongue.
Myra closed her eyes, feeling her nerve ends twitch. Her mind was at rest, her blood was clamoring.
She felt his hand separating her legs. Her hands gripped his coarse hair, she trembled and glowed. He probed and she finally melted, surrendered to the moment, letting go of pent up excitement.
Myra was floating on a rosy cloud, shrouded in euphoria, bathed in sunlight. Bewinged.
"I think I'll take mine straight, if you don't mind," from far away she heard his voice. Back to earth she zoomed and her eyes came open as his lean body buried her whiteness. "Want to look at me before and after?" He lifted and showed himself. "When they dished them out I got more than my share," he chuckled, and she felt herself blush.
But she didn't avert her eyes. His maleness had shocked and frightened her the first time, now it excited her crazily. She herself .put the lance to the gate and he stormed inside. She twisted and wriggled, moaning softly. Her head felt dizzy, her heart pounded. She cried out with excitement as his hand clutched at her breasts. He moved deeply into alien territory. Faster and faster, deeper and deeper. "Now, darling." She shuddered, feeling flooded, drowning with excitement sharing the climax.