Chapter 9

Inez West wasn't the only person who saw George West leave the building with a woman. Fern Lancing was standing alone in the shadow outside. She was troubled. The whole past three weeks had been troublesome for her. At first she'd thought that the final incidents of the vacation at the cabin would gradually fade from memory, becoming increasingly unreal and leaving everything more or less as it had been before.

She'd been wrong.

Changes bad been wrought which couldn't be reversed. Seeing Daisy from time to time, Fern had noticed a new hardness and a new sullenness about her. When Daisy spoke of her husband Able, there was always a hint of scorn in her voice, a note of contempt which had never been there before. Fern wondered how Daisy was treating her husband these days-and nights. Badly, was her guess. Very badly. And Fern felt in some measure responsible because of her and Ben's participation in the events of that wild night.

Edna had changed too. Or perhaps it would be more truthful to say that her real nature had at last emerged. She never failed to treat Fern with a kind of condescension which was grating, to say the least. And Fern was sensitive and perceptive enough to be further convinced that the blonde had made love with Ben. If Ben had admitted the truth, Fern would have been able to put Edna down. She might have said something like, "Honey, don't get such a big head. I know all about your fun and games and couldn't care less!" But as things stood, Edna could act as if she were the one who was one up on a rival, and Fern could only fume.

She was angered enough to tell herself that if Edna gave her the high hat, she'd get back at her by seducing Chuck one of these days. But she knew she wouldn't actually do such a thing. She didn't need Chuck, and he didn't need her; somehow that made such a seduction impossible for her.

When she saw George and Edna leaving the building and walking slowly away into the night, she knew, with a woman's intuition, what was happening. Or perhaps, she told herself, her intuition wasn't responsible at all: she knew the kind of man George was rumored to be, and she knew the kind of woman Edna was turning out to be.

She didn't want to follow the pair. Voyeurism was against her nature, even if she had been one of the watchers during Daisy's love-making with the two men. In that instance, at least she hadn't watched secretly. Now she was watching secretly, to her disgust, and her feet following silently after George and Edna seemed to have a life of their own.

When she saw them kissing, she managed to break away. She turned in the darkness and walked back toward the building.

She knew what Edna was up to. The blonde wasn't merely out after an illicit thrill, much as she might enjoy one. George was the boss, the division manager who was stepping up to a vice-presidency. And Edna was bound and determined that her husband should get ahead.

What was more, she'd probably succeed, much to Fern's disgust. In her view, either Ben or Able would make a better candidate, however brilliant Chuck might be, but Edna would very likely get just what she wanted. Remembering that George had given her a chance to be in Edna's place, she regretted for a minute that she hadn't given him what he wanted. But only for a minute. She didn't really believe that she could have sold herself in that particular manner.

Poor Able, she thought as she went back into the club. He was losing everything, it would seem: the promotion, his self-respect, the respect of his wife.

Even Ben, who was usually most understanding, seemed to have become rather surly in his attitude toward Able lately.

She wished she could do something for him, something that would help Able to become himself again.

Like a good many other people at the Tri-Compass Club that night, Able Crowell took a dip in the brightly lit swimming pool. The water was warm but so was the air, so he felt no shock when he climbed back up the ladder. His skin dried quickly, almost before he'd pulled on his white terry cloth robe and settled into a deck chair to watch the crowd.

He looked about to see if Daisy were nearby, but he didn't spot her anywhere. He seldom saw her when they went out to any kind of party these days. He never knew whom she was with or what she was doing, and at times he was almost relieved that that was so.

We can't go on like this, he thought. Something has to give, something has to break. If only I could get that promotion ... But what were the chances? He tried to forget about his trouble by concentrating on the near-naked bodies and the cheerful voices about the pool.

"Able, I want to talk to you."

At first he hardly heard the voice. Then a hand fell lightly upon his shoulder and the words penetrated. He turned in his chair and looked up, meeting the gaze of the copper-haired girl in the low-cut black dress. Even sitting down as he was he could see the way her firm breasts emerged from her neckline, and he couldn't help remembering how she'd looked on that occasion, just twenty-two nights ago, when six people had been naked and drunk, "inspired by the devil."

"Sure, Fern. Sit down."

He got up to give her his chair, but instead of accepting it she took his hand.

"No," she said. "Somewhere else."

He noticed an odd glint in her eyes, an excited, almost frightened look.

"Wherever you say, Fern."

She led him away from the pool slowly and, to all appearances, casually. But he sensed that she felt anything but casual, and her tension communicated itself to him. She wanted to talk to him for some reason of importance, of that he was more certain by the second.

The bright lights of the pool fell behind them and the sky, which had seemed black, brightened. Away from the flood lights, the stars appeared, glittering by the millions in the dark sky. They passed groups and couples less frequently, and voices faded into the distance. He had no idea of where she meant to take him, but his clogs passed from flagstones to soft grass, and after a few minutes she took off her high-heeled shoes to walk barefooted on the grass.

For some time she didn't speak. He looked for something to say and found nothing. Then, as they moved on in the dark, still hand in hand and apparently headed for the golf course, she said awkwardly, "Ben tells me you haven't been doing very well at the office."

He tasted resentment like a bitterness in his mouth. Naturally people like Ben and Chuck would bring word of his deep depression to their wives. And no doubt Edna, if not Fern, would speak of the matter with pretended solicitude to Daisy, and Daisy's contempt for him would be increased.

He kept his voice light and dry. "I suppose that Ben is vastly concerned with my well-being. I'm happy to know that."

"I'm concerned with your well-being," she said.

He could think of nothing to say other than, "That's nice of you."

They walked on in silence. He wondered what would happen if he were to make a pass at her. She would probably be resentful, and if he was insistent she might cry. And if she yielded he might, in his present state of mind, fail, which would depress him more than ever.

Yet he couldn't help but feel an attraction toward her. He was starved for a woman, and he had a natural desire to prove to himself that he was still a man. And Fern was undeniably a luscious female. Walking along in the darkness beside her, he looked down at the pale globes and deep cleavage that came out of the top of her black dress, and again he wondered what would happen if he were to take her into his arms.

"This way," she said, and she veered off in a new direction. The club was far from them now, its lights hardly discernible in the distance, and they hadn't seen anyone for several minutes.

That realization brought Able a fresh sense of suspense. Why was Fern taking him so far from the club? He didn't dare attempt to answer the question.

"Here," she said at last. "This is fine."

They were on a very gentle slope of soft grass, and a nearby stand of shrubbery blocked any last light from the club which they might otherwise have seen. Fern had ended their walk with a circle which had revealed that they were quite alone. Lovers were known to visit the golf course from time to time, but they seemed to be far from any who might be out here tonight.

"Why don't you take off your robe?" she said softly. "Spread it out on the grass and we can sit on it."

He did as she suggested. The robe covered only a small area so they had to sit close together. As she sat down, one of her shoulder straps slipped off, and her skirt slid high up on her slender legs; under starlight her curves looked more attractive than ever.

He kicked off his clogs. A gentle breeze caressed his bare skin like a woman's hands, reminding him of his frustration of recent weeks. It had been a long time since he'd been alone with a girl in circumstances like this.

"Why have you been so depressed recently?" Fern asked

"Me? Depressed? Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Don't joke, Able. You were depressed before we left the cabin, and from all I've seen of you and heard about you since, you're still that way, only more so."

"If that's really true, you ought to be able to answer your own question."

She nodded. "I can. I only asked because I couldn't think of a better way of bringing the subject up."

Now he was pretty sure he knew why she'd brought him here. Soul-searching, amateur analysis, inspiration, all that jazz. He'd seen the routine a hundred times: a girl getting vicarious kicks by talking sex rather than actually doing anything. Still, he was inclined to think that Fern meant well.

"Why bring the subject up at all?" he asked listlessly.

"Because I think you got a pretty rotten deal all the way around. Especially the way Edna behaved toward you afterward, both that night and the next day."

He shrugged. "She was drunk and frustrated that night. And she was sober the next day. I guess she just doesn't play around when she's sober."

"I think she does," Fern said, something mournful in her voice.

"Anyway, the whole incident is over, isn't it?"

"No, I don't think so. And neither do you. I don't mean to intrude on your private life, Able, but Daisy's been giving you a hard time, too, hasn't she?"

He hesitated to answer. "I guess she does what she thinks is best."

"You must feel like you're the most worthless, least desirable man in the world."

He didn't know what to answer to that. He'd never considered Fern a fool, but he'd never thought of her as being as perceptive as she now seemed. She was cutting awfully close to the truth.

They sat in silence for more than a minute, and his awareness of her physical presense grew stronger. Her shoulder strap had slipped lower, and one breast was almost out of her dress. Her skirt had slid up a couple more inches on her long thighs, so that he could almost see the limit. The breeze continued to sweep his skin and liven his nerves, and he felt the edge at excitement grow keener.

"That breeze feels wonderful, doesn't it?" she said

"Wonderful."

"The night is so warm." She paused and looked at him. "You're almost naked-would you mind if I took my dress off?"

"Certainly not."

She reached behind her and pulled down her zipper. Then she rolled away from him, leaning on one arm, and pulled her dress from under her hips. He helped her to raise it up. Starlight fell on a naked hip, showing the band of white where her swimming suit ordinarily covered her.

He was startled. He'd been expecting her to have on some kind of underwear, panties at the very least. But as he helped her draw the dress over her head, he saw that she was completely naked.

She tossed the dress aside on the grass, stretched out her legs in a, narrow V, and leaned back on her arms. She took a deep breath that lifted her high, jutting breasts and said, "That's better I"

He stared at her. She was infinitely lovely, infinitely desirable, and his body was charged with excitement. She seemed to be offering herself to him, but he'd had the feeling, however unarticulated, that no woman would ever really want him again. He couldn't quite believe that this was happening.

"What's the matter?" she asked smiling slightly.

"Nothing. You're beautiful, Fern."

"Beautiful? Is that all?"

"Tempting."

She tossed her head and smiled a little more. "I don't know why you say that. You must be used to seeing me this way by now. After all, we've gone swimming naked. And I remember that once you even held me naked in your arms."

He didn't want to be reminded of that, and he started to turn away. But she caught his arm with one hand, and her fingers were like flames on his skin.

"Able?" she said. "Don't you like me?"

He knew the land of answer she wanted. He slid an arm around her shoulders and back and another around her front and side and drew her to him. A breast flattened against his bare chest, and he pressed his mouth down on hers. Then, as their mouths worked hungrily together, he found her free breast and caught at the nipple, feeling it harden between his finger tips.

For several minutes that was all that they did: they kissed, she moved her breast against him, and he caressed her.

"Then you do like me,' she whispered.

"So much!"

"You should have come to me instead of to Edna that day."

"You'd have let me?"

"I think so. Yes. It would only have been fair."

For an instant he felt chilled. "Is that why you're here? Just to be fair?"

"Honey, what do you think?"

With that she drew closer to him, bringing their mouths together again and squeezing his hand against her breast. And at that point he found that he could hardly think at all.

The hand on. her breast drifted down to her stomach, and her muscles quivered and flickered. She sighed in his ear, and he felt the touch of her tongue. He moved his strokes to her thigh, and she trembled.

"Pet me," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Pet me, do everything to me."

He did what she wished, and every caress, stroke, pressure he gave her served to drive his own desire higher. Their tongues slid together, and her hand moved over his legs to his damp swimming trunks.

"You want me, don't you?" she said, her palm cradling him. "You're all ready to give me what I want, aren't you? Show me, darling."

He removed his hand from her and started working his way out of his trunks. She helped him. The moment he was exposed, her fingers were curling upon him, and she sighed with pleasure. He continued working his clothing down his legs, kicking them off.

"Now we're both naked," she said, "and you like to be naked with me, don't you, darling?"

"You know I do."

"I make you passionate. I make you want to give me everything."

He didn't answer. He held her close and went on kissing and petting her. Even after that night at the cabin he hadn't realized that Fern could become so highly aroused, so wanton, so lusty. And he'd certainly never thought that he, Able Crowell, was capable to inspiring such great longing on her part.

He laid her back on the terry cloth robe and kissed her breasts, moving them with his face. Rising up on his knees, he brought his face to her stomach and kissed her, then moved his kisses about her thighs. He felt her hands sliding over his legs and her fingers curling on him everywhere, and then, suddenly, he found himself thrown onto his side and rolled onto his back on the grass. Fingernails cut into his hips, soft hair brushed his legs, and then he felt a kiss that made him wild with excitement.

That lasted only a few seconds. Then he heard Fern's voice.

"There, now you're as ready as I am," she said drunkenly. "Take me, Able, love me, I've got to get loved!"

He rolled back to his knees and moved over her as she stretched. She lifted her buttocks and reached for him.

With no trouble, with infinite pleasure, he found the way and rushed forward. He took her, they froze for a few seconds, then sank back down on the robe.

They lay quietly, communicating only by the pulsations of their bodies.

"You're so good," she said softly. "You're so much!"

They whispered love phrases to each other in the darkness.

"The night's still young," she said. "When you've finished, you'll be able to take me again, won't you?"

"And again and still again, if that's what you want."

"Oh, I do, I do!"

He laughed. "We'll see."

He had never felt better in his life. Even the disintegration of his marriage seemed far away from him, and he supposed that it had been bound to happen sooner or later. He had no idea why Fern had turned to him, but he did know that she was restoring his confidence completely. His despression during the past weeks seemed completely unreal.

But this was no time for analysis. The most important thing right now was that he was loving the beautiful girl who lay with him, her legs pressing against his hips. Hardly knowing what he was doing, he raised his hips and sank back again, burning. Then, as he continued, she began to swing to meet him, and stroke by stroke they made their way toward the flaming, flaring, mind-shattering finale.

It was nearly dawn when Fern at last found Ben, and they left the party. Her passion was used up by then, and everything looked cold and clear to her.

"Where have you been all night?" he asked, looking at her curiously as they walked through the parking lot.

"Around."

"Have a good time?"

"Oh ... yes."

He laughed. "Don't sound so enthusiastic."

They had little to say to each other on the way home. Why had she done what she'd done, she asked herself. Why had she really done it?

What should she tell Ben? Should she tell him anything at all? After all, he hadn't told her about his afternoon with Edna. But did she really know that anything had occurred between them? Maybe her imagination had been working overtime.

We're drifting, she thought. Drifting apart.

She'd wanted nothing ever to separate them in any way or to any degree. For that reason she'd been willing to put up with any loving Ben did on the side as long as he didn't try to fool her about it. She'd been willing to let him give Daisy a loving right there in front of her, though she hadn't really thought that he would.

But her very permissiveness had led to the drift If he hadn't given service to Daisy, he would probably' never have done the same to Edna, or she wouldn't have thought that he'd done the same to Edna.

And she would never have turned to Able, as she'd done tonight.

Yes, she and Ben were drifting apart, and she asked herself how she could possibly stop the drift. For she still loved him. There was no question about that in her mind.

They arrived home and undressed in silence. Ben looked at her with approval as she kicked off her shoes and lifted her dress over her head, for the second time that night. She didn't meet his gaze.

When she lay down, she could still feel Able moving, making love to her. She wondered how long it would be before she lost and forgot the feeling of his body.

Ben finished stripping, visited the bathroom, and turned out the light. He lay down beside her and attempted to take her into his arms.

"Not tonight, darling," she said.

He hesitated, then rolled away, turning his back to her.

For some time they lay in silence. Fern stared at the dark ceiling.

"Ben? Are you still awake?"

"Yes."

"I've got something to tell you."

"What's that?"

"I was unfaithful to you tonight." She felt him stiffen ever so slightly. Aside from that, he didn't move.

"With whom?" he asked after a moment. "Able."

Seconds ticked by.

"Enjoy yourself?" he asked, his voice a rasp. She couldn't tell if he was being ironic or really wanted to know.

"I guess I did," she said slowly.

"How many times?"

"Him or me?"

"Both of you."

"He took me four times. I made the limit about six times and he did three times." She remembered how ferociously she'd worked to stimulate him that last time. He hadn't been able to finish, but she'd managed to finish once before he gave out on her.

"You enjoyed yourself all right," Ben said, and she winced.

Another minute went by, and in the darkness neither of them moved.

"Why?" he asked. "Why did you do it?"

"Why did you make love to Edna?"

"Who told you I did?"

"Didn't you?"

"Yes." His laugh was mirthless. "Oddly enough, I took her four times. Only the last time I managed to finish. Or maybe I should say, she managed to finish me." He laughed again, but he sounded as if he were strangling. "You know, we really should compare notes!"

"Shouldn't we!"

The darkness of the room was as oppressive as the interior of a coffin. She could feel Ben's pain beside her.

"Fern," he said after a minute.

"Yes?"

"Don't, please don't, ever again."

"All right, Ben. Never again." Then she knew the real reason she'd turned to Able. Not merely because she felt that Able had suffered a bad deal, true though that might be. She'd turned to him for revenge on Ben. She'd even told Ben what she'd done, not to clear the air, but to hurt him.

Her good intentions, her permissive attitude toward Ben, her "forgiveness" for his episode with Daisy, they were useless. They meant nothing. At heart she was jealous, vengeful, possessive, probably far more so than either Daisy or Edna. She loved Ben and wanted him for herself only. The understanding which she'd claimed to have was a sham, a delusion.

And having admitted that to herself, she suddenly felt vastly relieved. Somehow, she knew, she and Ben would outlive what they'd done and manage to be even better for themselves and each other as a result.

She murmured, "Thank you, darling," and drifted off to steep.