Chapter 7
"I'm probably going to be very black and blue in the morning. Lyle Windover is quite a pin-cher," June called out from within the dressing room.
"The bastard," Stu said. "I'd like to poke him. His sudden fury evoked the knowledge that Lyle Windover, for all his transgressions with June would feel the same way if he'd known what had happened between him and Gail. The irony of it was heavy with Post and he began laughing.
June peered out of the door of the dressing room, her gown held up over her chest. "What is it, Stu?"
I was just thinking of a very interesting follow-up to our survey on tract house living."
"What's that?" June looked interested.
We ought to do a survey into the nature and character of people who take surveys. Do you realize, June, that in a way, we're nothing but scientific Peeping Toms?"
"That's a fascinating way of looking at it, Stu, but I think you're painting a rather black picture of us."
"Am I?" he said, pulling off his other shoe. "Where else would you find two people who were so interested in snooping?"
June disappeared behind the door. A moment later, she returned with the thin robe over her shoulders. She slid into her high-heeled mules, making Stu aware for the thousandth time, what slim, attractive legs she had. She moved over to Stu, looking at him carefully. "I think you were hitting Joe's supply of scotch pretty hard toward the end, weren't you?"
Stu shook his head. "It vas the Jack Daniels, June, and I wasn't hitting it hard, I was clobbering it."
June sat next to him, her shiny knees invitingly close. "Was it because of what you had to do with Gail?"
Post suddenly understood that this hadn't been the reason why he'd tossed down six shots within half an hour and continued on a very dark highball until he and June had left. "No," he said, "it wasn't that at all. It was because of something I couldn't see."
"But what, Stu? What could you see?"
"What you and Lyle Windover were doing."
"But, Stu, that's so silly."
Post could no longer control himself. He suddenly put both hands on June's shoulders, experiencing as he did, that same flash of excitement from the contact. He drew her toward him and pressed his lips against hers, feeling the delicious contact with her mouth.
For a brief moment, she accepted this and then, to Post's intense surprise, she responded. She was actually returning the kiss. It was a subtle difference but he could feel it. And then her hands moved slowly to his shoulders, the fingers scurrying across his neck. And then, just as quickly, June stiffened.
"No," she said, pushing him away. "There'll be none of that."
"Why not?" he said. "You don't mind letting Lyle Windover do it. You don't even mind telling me about it in detail, about every little movement, about every place he puts his hands, in that maddening, objective detail of yours."
June was just as heated in her reply. "It's different with him, Stu. I don't like him, I care absolutely nothing about him. It's a matter of complete indifference to me if he puts his hand on my leg. But don't you see, I'm starting to like you, Stu. I'm very fond of you."
Post laughed bitterly. "That's great," he said. "You like me so much that you can't even stand it when I kiss you."
Her hand stroked his cheek. "I'm sorry, Stu."
"What are we supposed to do?" Post asked. "I know this is probably the corniest routine since the beginning of time, but I'm only human, June. I need you. I need you very badly. You're driving me absolutely nuts."
Her hand moved away. "Please, Stu," she said in a tortured voice. "Can't you see what you're doing to me? Every time you say that, you're just making it worse for me."
Discouraged, Post lit a cigarette and started to uncinch his tie. He got two buttons loose on his shirt when June spoke again.
"I'm not trying to be cruel," she said, "but please, do me a favor."
"Anything," he said. "Anything, June."
"I knew I could count on you. That's why I care for you so much. Please, just for tonight, Stu, will you sleep on the couch. I don't think I'd feel right with you in here tonight."
Post stood up, trying desperately to keep himself from saying anything more than, "Of course, June."
He'd been right. June had a hot nature. She was afraid of it. Because of that, because she'd forgotten herself and started to return his kiss, Post had to move out of the bedroom and inside to the sofa.