Chapter 5
"YOU'RE like a drug," Bruce said, smiling across the table. "You're habit-forming. And even more beautiful than you were yesterday, if that's possible."
Beth accepted the compliment with a slight nod but avoided meeting his eyes. It was excruciatingly embarrassing to sit with him in the Stamen bar, with Carolyn Anderson and a man only two tables away. Beth wished she had stayed at home. She should have known it would be impossible for her to make small talk.
Bruce drained his drink and looked up to summon the waiter for another.
"No more for me, please," Beth said firmly.
He glanced across the table and saw that the better part of her martini was still in her glass. "Want to switch to something else?" he said.
"One is more than enough. I want to know what I'm doing today. And what I'm saying." She was annoyed when she felt herself turning red.
Bruce was amused. "Any way you want it is fine with me. Ready to go?"
She wanted him to be under no false illusions. "I'm anxious to talk to you," she said.
"Sure." He looked briefly at an elderly couple occupying the adjoining table. "I suggest a private conference, though, if that's okay with you."
She hesitated, then shrugged. When she finished telling him what was on her mind, she thought, he wouldn't try to make love to her again. Which angered her-there was nothing she wanted more than another hour in bed with Bruce Gibson, and she cursed herself for feeling so weak.
He paid the check, then helped her into her shabby old beaver. As they threaded their way toward the entrance, Beth inadvertently caught Carolyn Anderson's eye. And Carolyn solemnly winked.
My God, I'm really a member of the sorority, Beth told herself, and wanted to crawl under the deep pile of the luxurious carpet.
Alert today to what was happening around her, she saw the assistant manager look up from the desk in the lobby, then saunter toward them. Bruce handed him some money, very quickly, and the man murmured, "Room Seventeen."
So that was how it was done. Simply, efficiently and without mystery.
Beth preceded Bruce into the room. He locked the door and turned to her expectantly.
Her expression stopped him. "What's wrong?" he asked. He seemed genuinely concerned.
"I want us to understand each other." She could not remember a single word of the statement she had prepared with such care.
"Fire away." He kept his distance.
"I don't know what you think of me-"
"I can prove it to our mutual satisfaction in about sixty seconds."
"Please don't. I'm not the sort of person you think I am."
"How do you know what I think of you?" he demanded, smiling broadly. "I'll gladly sign a notarized statement swearing that you're the most terrific girl I've ever encountered, anywhere, in all my life. Is that good enough?"
Beth shook her head. "That isn't what I mean. And this-isn't easy for me." She forced herself to meet his steady gaze. "I'm not-like Sandra."
Bruce nodded gravely.
She studied him and suddenly realized that he had gone through similar, perhaps identical, experiences. Every girl in her position-and undoubtedly Bruce would be familiar with the feeling-would be anxious to convince a man that she wasn't a professional prostitute.
Tears welled up in her eyes, and she brushed them away angrily.
Bruce took a single step toward her.
Beth cringed and moved to the far side of the television set.
He stood very still until she grew a trifle calmer. Then he deliberately lighted two cigarettes, gave her one at arm's length and motioned her to a cushioned maple chair.
As Beth sat down, the thought flashed through her mind that the chair was a poor imitation of a New England antique. The incongruity was so absurd that she laughed but sobered again instantly.
Bruce moved to the far side of the room, carefully avoiding sitting on the bed. "Honey," he said, "you needn't be afraid of me. I give you my word I don't go around raping unwilling women. If you want to leave, there's the door. Just go, and I won't try to stop you. I'm just sorry you find me repulsive."
"But I don't," Beth cried.
"Pardon the vernacular, but I don't dig."
"Neither do I." She took a long, hard drag on the cigarette, and smoke burned her throat.
"You knew, or at least you had a pretty fair idea, that I'd be here today," he said quietly. "When you and Sandra walked into the bar, you saw me sitting there and you walked straight to me. We took a table together, and you neither screamed nor threw a glass at my head. You accompanied me of your own free will. You're here in this room, right this instant, of your own free will."
She was so miserable and confused that she could not reply.
"You knew," Brace continued, "that I wasn't planning to play chess, parchesi, scrabble or backgammon with you. I'm fairly positive you haven't felt an urge to play any of those games, either." He stubbed out his cigarette and, still maintaining at least a facade of calm, asked quietly, "May I know why in hell you are here?"
Beth took a deep breath. "I thought I knew before I left home. But now-I'm not sure," she said painfully.
"Do you or don't you want me to make love to you?"
"I don't know," she replied.
He stood and held out a hand. "There's a sure way of finding out," he told her and grinned.
Beth rose and felt so shaky she wanted to sit again.
"Try an experiment in the interests of science. Pure science," Brace said.
He was making it plain that he had no intention of going to her. So Beth dropped her coat to the chair and walked toward him slowly.
He made no move until she came close to him. Then, suddenly, he took her into his arms and kissed her.
Beth's resolves melted away at his first touch, her lips parted for his kiss and she clung to him fiercely. He was even gender than she had remembered, yet she was conscious of his masculine strength, and desire shot through her.
Brace's grip tightened before he released her. "Which shall it be?" he asked, motioning first toward the door, then toward the bed.
Beth stood erect, her head high, and made a small but positive gesture toward the bed.
Brace threw aside all restraints as he kissed her again, this time with such vehemence that she found it difficult to breathe.
When she gasped for air, he muttered, "Too many clothes."
Beth laughed now and felt a great surge of pleasure as she undressed for him, reveling in his admiration as she slowly removed her skirt, then her sweater.
He threw off his own clothes, too, and they met, nude, on the bed.
The session she and Brace had now was violent and prolonged.
They mated like two rampant animals, savagely.
At one point, the honey-blonde pulled away and, with glazed eye, descended on Bruce and tried to render him senseless with longing. She told herself that no couple had ever known such passion together.
Bruce laughed and twisted away and then pinioned her so that in a moment she was beating with her fists on the sheets in untrammeled lust, her big breasts quivering, her whole being swollen intolerably with desire.
"Oh, Bruce," she whispered.
"Beth, darling."
"Please don't wait now, please."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, yes, yes."
And as they merged again and again, a hurricane of convulsion assailed them both. Bruce bellowed. Beth shrieked, and ecstasy flooded them....
In a little while he apologized that he was due back in the office, and he quit the room to take a shower.
Beth half-dozed, daydreaming and pretending to herself that she was married to Bruce, that it was early morning and that she was remaining in bed while he prepared to leave for a day's work. A sudden, ugly notion occurred to her and, unable to rid herself of it, she shivered. For all she knew, he might already have a wife.
She wanted to ask him outright and to learn as many other things about him as she could, too. But girls in her position were not supposed to be inquisitive.
Bruce reappeared but Beth kept her eyes shut, feigning sleep. If she started talking now, she would say too much and spoil everything. It was enough to be grateful for as much of his time and love as he cared to give her, at least for the present. Her mood improving, she reflected that their relationship would grow, and in time, with luck, he might come to her honorably and respectably. She clung to the thought.
Fully dressed now, Bruce approached the bed, and Beth stirred. He bent down for a final kiss. "I'm going to be jammed all day tomorrow in meetings," he said. "But I can get away the day after. Will you meet me in the bar, usual time?"
"I'd love to," she replied promptly.
The door opened and closed, and he was gone.
Beth continued to stretch out lazily in the bed for some minutes before rising and dressing in a leisurely manner. She heard herself humming, broke off and smiled. Never had she felt so much at peace within herself, so fulfilled as a woman. It was wrong to feel ashamed, to believe for as much as a single second that her liaison with Bruce was cheapening her. The end justified the means. He gave her total sexual satisfaction, something as wonderful as it was unique in her experience.
She patched her make-up carefully, then spent a quarter of an hour fussing with her long, straight bob. For a long time she had wanted to lighten her blond hair several shades, but had been afraid of Charlie's reaction. Now, she told herself, she no longer cared what he thought. She knew she'd be far more attractive with light, bright hair, and if Charlie didn't like it, that would be just too bad.
At last she was ready to leave, and picked up her handbag. Beneath it was a carefully folded one hundred dollar bill.
Very briefly, she felt as she had the previous day, and a wave of repugnance swept through her. But this time the disgust passed quickly. After all, she had known Bruce intended to pay her for the hour they had spent together.
Cousin Phil would appreciate the money, she thought, and she would put it into the mail this afternoon, in time for the last pickup. She tucked the money into her handbag and, humming again, strolled at an unhurried pace to the motel entrance. Her conscience no longer bothered her, and she was content with an arrangement that, a scant day and a half earlier, would have horrified her.
"Take a tip from Mama," Sandra Winterton said one day. "Don't fall in love with Bruce. Or with any other John. Grab all the fun and cash you can, but stop right there, and don't become emotionally involved. Romance and motel matinees just don't mix."
Beth smoothed her newly-tinted platinum hair. "Look," she said scornfully, "I'm having an affair with just one man-Bruce. Preach to Patsy and Carolyn and the others if you like, but don't include me. I know perfectly well what I'm doing."
Sandra raised an eyebrow and dropped the subject.
At a weekend party a few days later, Carolyn brought up the subject, too. She drew Beth to one corner of the rumpus room where a group of neighbors had gathered and, lowering her voice, said, "I hope you won't mind if I butt into your business."
Beth smiled and waited.
"Don't think I'm prying, but every time I see you at the Stamen, you're with the same fellow," Carolyn said.
"What's wrong with that?" Beth wanted to know.
"Start setting up dates with others. I can help you, and so can Jane. And Sandra."
"Why should I bother?" Beth caught a glimpse of Charlie, deep in conversation with two other men at the opposite side of the room and glanced away. Charlie, she thought, made her sick. Not more than an hour ago he had delivered another of his little sermons on the subject of her hair, and she already knew every word by heart. Natural colors were better than artificial, which made a woman look harder. Charlie was a boob, and she was sorry she had ever been young enough and stupid enough to marry him.
"You aren't listening," Carolyn said.
"Sorry," Beth said.
"Look at it this way," Carolyn declared earnestly, dropping the baby lisp she usually affected. "Suppose something happens to the John. Suppose he's run over or has a heart attack or something. Or suppose he tires of a diet of just one girl. It's been known to happen. Then you'll be out in the cold, and it may take you a week or two to build up a clientele. You'll be out a lot of money. After all, you aren't in this game for love."
"Thanks for the warning," Beth said, refusing to argue. It was nobody else's business what she and Bruce thought of each other. She could see the stars in his eyes every time they met and knew she felt as he did. Their sex was perfect. And if she were falling in love with him, well-he was falling for her, too. Not that he had ever said as much in so many words, but she could tell. Any girl could.
So she wasn't a part-time prostitute like Carolyn and Sandra and all the others. Her relationship with Bruce was different, something to be cherished.
Beth continued to meet no man but Bruce, and neither Sandra nor Carolyn mentioned the subject again.
At the end of some five weeks, Beth took stock of her situation. She was happier than ever before in her life and had learned at last that sexual fulfillment was the key to contentment. She slept like a log every night, her figure had never been better, and some days she felt and appeared so radiant that she wondered why the whole world hadn't guessed her secret.
Certainly Charlie knew nothing of what was going on. He still harped about her lighter hair, but she shut her ears to his complaints. Being Charlie, he would always have to beef about something, Beth thought. Anyway, he was the one disturbing factor in her new way of life. He still insisted on sex with her on an average of twice each week, and Beth's flesh crawled whenever he touched her.
She had been tempted to make some excuse in the hope of avoiding relations with him but had finally decided the risk was too great. Much as she loathed Charlie, he was no fool and might become suspicious if she refused him his prerogatives as a husband. So she closed her mind every time he started to paw her and let him do what he pleased. Unfortunately, that was not enough, and one night he protested.
"What's wrong with you?" he demanded irritably.
Beth, resting on the bed, contemplated him blandly. "As far as I know, nothing," she said.
"You've been acting lately as though there's lead in your action whenever we get together." He stared at her accusingly.
"You must be wrong," she replied quickly. "I've enjoyed it every bit as much as you have."
"You sure don't act like it."
Thereafter she was more careful and began to pretend involvement. It was easier than she had imagined, for Charlie was incredibly gullible. All she had to do was thrash around a Utile and breathe hard. That was enough to satisfy him. Once or twice she tried to think he was Bruce but discovered immediately that it was impossible. There was only one Bruce in all the world.
Her financial picture was infinitely brighter, too. In the five weeks that had passed since her first meeting with Bruce, they had spent a total of fifteen afternoons together, and on each occasion he had discreetly left one hundred dollars beneath her handbag. She had sent her cousin twelve hundred dollars, a staggering sum that, she knew, he could use to good advantage. And there would be more to come.
She had kept three hundred dollars to spend as she pleased and was not in the least sorry. Meeting Bruce so often, she needed a much larger wardrobe, and by spending hours at stores advertising sales, she had been able to purchase eight new outfits. All were on the flashy side, it was true, but Bruce liked her in clothes with a flair. Occasionally, catching sight of herself in figure-revealing dresses, with her near-platinum hair, she wondered briefly if she had begun to look like a tramp, but the notion was ridiculous, and she pushed it out of her mind. She was still a lady; the only basic difference in her life was that she was Brace's girl, and fortunately as well he was helping her meet a pressing financial obligation.
Luckily, clothes meant nothing to Charlie. Once or twice he looked vaguely at one of her new outfits but apparently did not realize she had bought so many new things. He had not commented, and she had gratefully kept her own mouth shut.
Most important of all, she felt virtually certain now that she loved Bruce. There was no other explanation for the tenderness she felt toward him when they were apart, the explosive excitement that gripped her when they were together. Spring was on the way, and Beth was convinced it would mark a wonderful, major turning point in her life.