Chapter 13

THE MAN EATER....

Carl took one look at Marg Smelton and knew he had made a mistake in answering her distress call. She had reached him in his office just after two o'clock. With tears in her voice, she begged him to come to the house as soon as he could.

Despite all his efforts, she wouldn't tell him why it was so important to her nor would she say why it was not possible to discuss it with her husband.

Finally, against his better judgment, he tried to sooth her and assured her he would be there as soon as he could.

Elaine was away at a client meeting and there was no way of reaching her. The best he could do was leave a message with her secretary that he had been called out on an emergency and would be in touch with her at home. He didn't dare say where he was going, even a note in a sealed envelope didn't seem safe under the circumstances.

Now, as Marg ushered him into the house, Carl knew with certainty that he shouldn't have come. On the phone, she had seemed close to hysteria and what triggered him into agreeing to see her was a fear that she would do something desperate, something perhaps as desperate as suicide.

Now, although there was a haunted expression on her face, he didn't see suicide as a danger. There was trouble there somewhere, he sensed, but he couldn't yet know what it was. "What's the trouble, Marg?"

"Let me pour us a drink first, Carl, then we'll talk. Thanks for coming."

Carl didn't want a drink, not under the circumstances, but he decided it would be best to go along with her until he could get some hint as to what was on her mind. There was little danger that Bob would arrive, but he couldn't help feeling uncomfortable at how it would look if the husband did crash the party.

Explaining their having a cozy drink together when Bob was expected to be away at the office would be a bit on the tricky side, he told himself.

"Okay, Marg," Carl raised his glass in a toast, "let's drink to friends and discuss problems."

Marg raised her glass and took a sip, but he saw that she wasn't anxious to begin talking.

"What is it, Marg?"

"It isn't that easy, Carl. Can't we just have a drink and a chat for a while."

"Damn it, Marg, I hate to sound difficult, but you are Bob's wife. You asked me to come and talk to you. Now you have to help."

"Is it so hard to just sit with me and chat as if we were friends?"

"No, it isn't and you know it. It's just that the circumstances are a little unusual, that's all."

"Are you afraid Bob will catch you here and beat you up, Carl? Don't you think you could handle him?"

Carl felt the hair rise on the back of his neck. It struck him that she could be sick enough to have set things up so that Bob would come home and find them together.

"No, Marg, I'm not afraid of Bob beating me up. I wouldn't beat him up either. Tell me what you want to talk about."

"Damn it all, Carl, talk to me like a friend, not a psychiatrist."

"I am a friend, Marg. That's why I'm here, remember?"

"Then please let the barriers down. Do you think I'm attractive?"

"Yes, Marg, you are and I think you know it"

"Sound as if you mean it, Carl" Marg crossed her legs very slowly and gave him a generous show of nylon tops and naked thigh above. "Haven't you ever wondered how I'd look with my clothes off? Tell me, Carl."

"You're Bob's wife, Marg. Let's just let it go at that."

"Stop evading the issue. I hear you're great with women, Carl. I'm a tiger when I'm naked. I've got a good body and I really know how to use it. Don't these look good?" As she asked, Marg pulled the skirt of her dress high. She wore no slip so that he saw a generous expanse of firm, smooth thigh and just a wink of black panties.

"You look very good, Marg, but that's Bob property, not mine."

"Havent you ever screwed a married women? I'd love to open my legs for you. Don't you want to?"

"Come on, Marg, what kind of game is this anyway? Sure I think you'd be a hell of a good lay, but you've got your husband and I've got my woman. Let's change the subject."

"Don't be like that, Carl. Remember when we danced at our parties and I rubbed my belly against you? I felt how you were. You were big and hard and strong and I got you that way by rubbing you with my belly."

"Look, Marg, I came here because you said you were in trouble. If this is all you have to talk about, I'm leaving."

"But I am in trouble, can't you understand that?" She was standing and holding her dress above her waist. "This is my trouble."

Carl saw how her well formed body strained at the little black panties. Her legs were wide open, her torso writhing and wriggling in passion. Holding the dress up with her left hand, she rubbed the fingers of her right along the csotch of her panties.

"This is where I'm in trouble, Carl. I'm hot, come and feel it for yourself. Make me feel good, Carl. Take my panties off and give it to me."

Carl felt perspiration all over his body. Desire had nothing to do with it, he just wanted out of a crazy situation that he should have avoided in the first place as his subconscious had warned him to.

She was standing in front of him then so that he couldn't get up without pushing her aside and probably knocking her over. He watched in horror as she jerked her panties down her thighs. The right hand went back to the bottom of her bellv.

"I'm going, Marg. I'm sorry I can't help you."

"Don't go, Carl," she screamed and fired off a string of curses and obsceneties. "Don't leave me like this or I'll tell Bob you raped me. He'll believe me, Carl. Don't leave me. Give it to me right here where I need it."

As if he couldn't believe what he'd seen, Carl turned to look once more as he reached the door. Her eyes were closed and her thighs still parted wide.

Her body was writhing as one finger had found its way into the place where she wanted him. The finger was moving violently.

"Oh Carl, baby," she panted, "give it to me. Fill me right up with it. Harder ... harder ... that's it Carl ... give me more....

Jerking the door open, he stepped out into the hot sun and clean air. He paused for a moment to fight for control.

Through the closed door he was sure he could hear her voice still demanding more, still providing a commentary on her erotic fantasy. By then, he didn't know whether it was really her voice or the remembered words ringing in his memory.

Carl had to fight to keep from running as he hurried toward his car. He didn't drive well as he headed away from the house, but he did drive fast. In his mood, that seemed more important.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he found that Elaine was home already.

"Thank God you're home, darling," he gasped as he threw himself at her. She fell into his arms and they held.

"What's wrong, Carl darling. Tell me."

"Just hold me for a little while darling. I'll tell you in a minute."

Carl heard her heart pounding against him and knew she was suffering. He had to tell her. He broke the embrace and tried to turn on a smile. It didn't work worth a damn.

He began to tell her the story and as he talked, Elaine poured the drink he obviously needed. Taking it from her while still talking, he thanked her with his eyes.

"You don't think she'd really tell Bob you tried to rape her, do you?" Elaine asked as he finished.

"I don't think so. Still." Carl paused, "In her state, there's really no telling what she'll say or do. Anyway, I'm not going to let it worry me."

"I'm glad to hear that, dear. How about another drink? You seem to have lost that one."

"I guess I did at that." Carl looked at his empty glass and pretended to be surprised. "Must have fallen down my throat."

When Elaine handed him his refilled glass, she had a drink of her own in her other hand.

"At the risk of letting know how irresistable you are, Mister," Elaine said softly as she sat on the arm of his chair, "you're about to get another offer from a woman who wants to take you to bed."

"Oh no I'm not."

"You're not?"

"There won't be time. Before she can make the offer, I'll already have her in bed."

He got up quickly, slid an arm around her and they hurried to the bedroom.