Chapter 1
Gail was ready to parry her husband's wrath-if wrath he would choose to gain his ends. After all, she smiled at her provocative slimness reflected in the tall mirror, she was bound to win this, as any, argument. Jack was so emotional, a quality she entirely lacked; thus she had the upper hand. At least so far it had been that way. Funny how quickly a girl could lose her yen for a guy after she had all of him. I'm more like a man really, she reflected, peeling off the damp bathing suit and stepping gingerly out of the moist red ring. The pursuit, the chase, is what I prefer about the love game. She threw back her sun-washed shoulders and cupped her hard, trim breasts. Yes, snatching tall, brawny Jack Michaels right from under her sister's nose practically on the eve of their wedding had been a master coup. Even now, four years later and knowing that she had snatched an uninteresting, average guy, she recalled the incident with stark pleasure.
She, Gall, the scrawny drab chick had stepped right up and helped herself to the prize. Her gloating was mixed with triumphant hate. For she had always hated her younger sister Myra whose sleek beauty made Gail an also ran. Myra had everything Gail lacked-lovely silver-gold hair, violet eyes that ate into a man's soul making him ache to surrender, hair and hide. A dreamy figure with a bust that put Jayne Mansfield to shame, and legs as slim and straight as displayed in any stocking ad. With all Myra's pulchritude went a sweet, even disposition and a candor too good to be true. Yes, Myra who believed in people and in truth had been so easy to deceive; it had almost taken the joy out of deceiving her.
Gail ran her long fingers through her short bronze curls and looked at herself critically. And with pleasure. Surprising what grooming could do to a woman's appearance. Her green eyes sprinkled with malice. She ran her hands down her narrow hips and inspected every inch of her tanned, boyish anatomy. The artfully winged brows, and the wide mouth painted a provocative red gave her plain face with the prominent cheek bones an exotic allure. Even her button nose, once her despair, fitted the incongruous pattern of beauty she now flaunted.
my skin was always my biggest asset, she reflected. And after all, a man's interest in a woman is mostly skin-deep. She walked to the portable bar and poured herself half a glass of bourbon. No water. She could take life and her drinks undiluted. She drained the glass and sat in the green easy chair, closing her eyes. For a few short moments, before facing the storm, she would permit herself the luxury of drinking back-four years back.
Gail, a drab stick of a girl, her undeveloped meager body belying her twenty three years, had gone into Myra's room and had stood at die open door watching her sister in her magnificent white satin gown. The diaphanous veil framed the pale face in which the eyes shimmered like dew-wet violets.
"Very sweet. Now give us a blush, Myra. Isn't it a bit premature-I mean with Jack two thousand miles away." Her hands clutched at her meager bosom in the utterly superfluous bra, feeling the letter there, safely hidden.
"Oh Gail, I know it's silly, but putting on the gown makes it easier for me to believe I shall be Mrs. Jack Michaels in less than a week." She took off the veil and started to unzip the gown.
Gail perched on the nearest chair watching the beautiful, madonna-like face closely. "Heard from your dream boy lately?" she inquired.
Myra stepped out of the gown and placed it carefully on the bed. She wrinkled her forehead and die violet eyes looked troubled. "Jack's last letter from Oakland is ten days old. He said his business there might take longer than he anticipated. Also he hinted about certain changes in our plans. Oh Gail," she threw her arms about her sister's scrawny neck, "I do hope we have the church wedding here iii Plymouth Falls, as planned. I know Jack wanted a simple wedding-no bridesmaids and all the rest."
"Well, it wouldn't matter to me where I was married-if I wanted a guy that badly," said Gail, disengaging herself.
Myra gazed at her sister, wondering once more how different they felt about almost everything.
"You never liked Jack Michaels." Myra walked up to the mirror and started brushing that wonderful foamy hair of hers. "And yet, Jack likes you a lot. He thinks you're so clever."
I don't like him, thought Gail, her insides cramping with the old ache. I love the guy. I want him for myself. Yes, she pursued the thought and a wild hilarity took possession of her, and my cleverness shall get me that price.
She hoped her voice sounded calm and composed. "Oh, I have nothing against Jack. He's just not my type. Main thing is you like him, isn't it?"
"I couldn't imagine my life without him," said Myra simply.
Well, you better start imagining, it was on the tip of Gail's tongue to blurt out the words. She bit her lip and forced a smile to her lips. "That's foolishness. You're too emotional, Myra. Me, I'll never allow myself to get caught in my emotions. I'll just pick out a guy, say this one suits me, and I'll go after him till I get him."
"I do wish you happiness, Gail. But I doubt you can catch it scheming so-coldbloodedly."
Gail had rushed to her room, locked the door, and had taken out the precious letter from its hiding place. How to get to Chicago in three days? For, that's where Jack would be expecting his bride, to be married there before a justice of the peace and then rush right back to Oakland with his new spouse. Straightening the crumpled sheets of paper, she re-read the important part: T shall be expecting you on Thursday, June 15th, in Chicago. I have reserved a suite at the Drake Hotel. Do not fail me. Forget about that church wedding. I need my wife by my side for the next three months, in Oakland where business forces me to remain.
Your loving Jack.' Someone will be in the Drake Hotel on Thursday, decided Gail, frowning down at the letter. And it's going to be me! But how? Whom did she know in that town? But of course, Louise Welch, her former classmate was studying painting there with that man-what was his name? Some Italian. Yes, Ventusi.
Gail rummaged through her desk drawer and unearthed the gaudy Christmas card, reading the words scribbled on the inside. 'I'm living in a nice, inexpensive boarding house.' Yes, there was the address. But a letter would take too much time. She grabbed her coat and rushed out, taking a cab to the post office. No trouble at all; she found the number of Mrs. Wilkes in the Chicago phone book and made her call, praying Louise would be home; it was almost dinner time. Ten seconds later, she listened to Louise's joyful voice.
"Gail, how wonderful! I had hoped you would visit Chicago. Where are you staying?"
"I'm calling from Plymouth Falls, Louise. But I intend to show up in Chicago this Tuesday-that is if you make your invitation urgent enough. Say, for instance, yes, that'll do it-like inviting me to your wedding."
"But-I'm not getting married, Gail."
""It doesn't matter. But I have to be in Chicago Thursday-I shall explain when I see you-and only this will make it possible. Please Louise, don't let me down ... my future depends on it."
"Some man, I bet," giggled Louise.
Gail hadn't said yes or no to that. But she had convinced Louise. That same evening the wire had arrived, throwing consternation among the members of Gail's family.
"But you can't go," said Gail's mother in her plaintive voice. "After all, we have a wedding all planned here."
"Louise is my best and only friend," Gail had insisted. "I can't let her down. And," she smiled wickedly, "I can use that bridesmaid's dress for Louise's wedding. Saves money."
"Gail," her mother shuddered, "you wouldn't?"
The following evening Gail took the plane for Chicago, with the pink lace dress carefully packed in her suit case.
Louise, good old reliable, was waiting for her a. die airport. Just as expansive as of yore, she kissed Gail enthusiastically and grabbed her bag.
"Gail, you look marvelous; you have changed."
Quickly she stopped herself from adding 'you're pretty now."
"Well, if I have changed it's to the good." Gail laughed and followed Louise who had a car waiting.
"I borrowed a friend's car," mentioned Louise as they were rolling along.
"What's she like?" Their eyes met in a smile of intimacy. For Gail, knowing Louise so well, also knew that men meant less than nothing to the girl. For one moment, Gail recalled their short interlude; it had been exciting. She might even repeat the venture? Yes, why not? Again, their eyes locked and Louise smiled her crooked, half-tender smile.
"She's a sculptor, the owner of this car, quite good. A redhead-they're exciting. But not as exciting as you are, Gail. You have changed into a disturbing beauty."
"Nothing wrong with your looks, Louise. And I like that Italian hair cut. Suits your type." Gail's eyes went over the olive-green suit that underscored her friend's slimness and she noticed that the girl's green eyeshadow enhanced the strangeness of her yellow eyes. "Say, can I stay at your place-for tonight only?"
"It's all arranged. My bed is extra large. Good mattress." Again Louise smiled her crooked smile. "Mind telling me what really brings you to Chicago? For I don't flatter myself it's poor little me."
"Oh, it's a rather involved story. I'll tell you tomorrow," promised Gail, wondering whether she would tell and then deciding she would. She could trust Louise who would be her ally-if she gave the girl what she craved.
-They were lying in die wide bed. Louise's arm was around Gail's slender waist, her lips nibbled at the other girl's ear lobe.
"To me, you're still the most exciting girl I ever knew, Gail." A greedy gleam stole into the yellow eyes, making them golden. "Your skin-it's like that of a peeled peach." Gail didn't mind the searching hand that caressed her firm breasts. Closing her eyes, she sighed deeply and snuggled up to Louise.
"Funny, you're the only girl I ever-did it with. And you still get me all hot and bothered. Go ahead, you know what I like." Gail shifted position.
Louise got warmed up to the task. Streams of fire poured over Gail; her hands dug into the girl's shoulders. She trembled and glowed and her insides melted. Her nerve ends tingled and finally, sweetly relaxed, she surrendered, feeling warm waves of exaltation engulf her. Her body weightless, she was soaring up to a rosy cloud of Nirvana.
"You needed that badly, Gail. You were so wrought up." Louise detached herself and walked into the bathroom.
Gail sat up and lit a cigarette. Now came the uninteresting, duty-part of the dalliance. Girls, to Gail, really meant not much; she herself liked to be served, get her dose of thrills, after which she wanted to remain unmolested and aloof. Men were what she craved, and only a man's touch could provide the ultimate thrill. With them, her co-operation was enthusiastic.
Well, I better had please Louise's fancies, she decided, watching the girl approach the bed. I need her as an ally in the upcoming, most important transaction of my young life.
Louise sat down close to Gail, her yellow eyes darkened, full of wanting. Shamelessly, she gripped Gail's right hand and placed it where she wanted it-on the gelatinous globe of her right breast.
"You used to say they were the sweetest melons, Gail. Remember?"
Gail sat up and passed her hands over the ripe fruit, now hefting the heavy balls and wiggling them playfully. Louise lay back, closed her eyes and sighed deeply, expecting the full, loving treatment. Gail started rubbing her own trim breasts against the quivering balloons, now flicking her pointed tongue over the stiff nipples.
"Ooooh, some more. It's soo good." Louise squirmed and her legs scissored.
Viciously, .Gail bit into the soft rondure, wanting to hurt, despising herself for administering to the avid girl's need.
"Ouch, that hurts, Gail. Go easy."
Gail passed a soothing tongue over the hurt; her palms slid down the plump thighs. She watched Louise's taut face, deciding to prolong the girl's torture.
"Tell me, Louise, did you ever-try a man?"
Louise's eyes opened, she hissed. "Men are beasts, I hate them. I had enough knowing one man-my stepfather. He taught me to despise men. And from that time on-I was sixteen when-when he had me in the cellar-I never let another man come near me."
"But wasn't it exciting, Louise, to-to have a man touch you there?" Gail clutched the huge balls, a sardonic glint in her eyes. "Didn't it do things to you-to see all of a man, to watch him...."
Louise's face was pale; she shuddered. "I remember his huge hard hands clawing at me, the hairy thighs rubbing up against me-and when he brutally tore into me I felt nauseated. Fact is, after he left me, I vomited all over the cellar steps...."
An odd excitement took hold of Gail; she pictured it all in her mind, the huge hairy ape in the throes of lust forcing the white soft body of the child Louise to his will, delighting in his brutal taking, letting go of his passion and invading the helpless child's body. She almost felt as he must have felt-lusty, strong and virile-a reckless ravager. This was the incentive needed to goad her into action.
Her fingers dug into Louise's softness, the pointed nails raked down the thighs leaving red seams on white flesh. Louise wailed, but Gail could not stop. She yanked at die black hair and now thrust her body over the girl's plump form, making the bed-springs creak. Her hands yanked roughly at die breasts, making Louise sob. She ground her body into the other's soft curves, wanting to hurt and humiliate the girl for being a girl, and not a man worthy of Gail's administrations. Finally, just as Louise was panting for release,-Gail jumped up, went to the dresser. She grabbed up the long-handled brush and returned to the bed, feeling Louise's frightened eyes on her.
"What-what are you going to do to me, Gail?" It was a whisper of anguish.
Gail brandished the brush. "Just wait and see, Louise," she said.
"Please, please, don't stop now, you can't leave me that way," moaned Louise.
With wicked glee Gail watched the huge, swollen breasts, the pale mask of face; Louise was at her mercy' She, Gail was die joy dispenser. The girl was trembling on the brink of fulfillment and only she, Gail, could bring her solace.
"I don't feel like going on," she said detachedly, "really, this seems stupid."
"Please Gail, don't leave me this way. I'm going crazy. I'll do anything you say, just don't leave me."
"Well, swear to never tell a soul-what I'm going to tell you-later."
"I swear it, Gail."
... Gail arose and went to the bathroom; she ached to wash her hands of the whole revolting procedure.