Chapter 14
Burt snorted and sucked his teeth, then was silent again except for his deep, regular breathing. He'd sure saved her bacon last night, that was for sure. When she'd called him from the police station, she knew he couldn't have been sober yet. But there he was in under an hour, dressed, shaven, and steady, if a little bleary eyed. He'd conferred privately with the police captain, and when they'd come out, she'd been free to go. Best of all, as he'd informed her in the cab coming home, her name would be kept out of the papers. That was a godsend. Not that she thought she'd done anything all that terrible but, people being people, it would be called a scandal-She yawned and stretched, letting her eyes play idly about the ceiling. Gosh, it must have been close to four A.M. by the time they'd gotten home. Poor Burt, he'd still been at his desk, typing something or other when she'd fallen asleep.
She glanced over at him again and saw that his eyes were open. He hadn't moved. He was just lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. "Good morning, Burt."
"Oh, 'morning, sweetheart." He turned to face her. "I thought you'd still be asleep." He gave her a sleepy smile, stifling a yawn. Well, he seemed to be in a chipper mood. Maybe she wouldn't have to slap him down for saying anything silly about her little mix-up of last night. Maybe he wouldn't mention it.
Burt scratched his stomach with both hands. "Mmmm. I'm starved. I could eat a horse. How about you?"
"Burt, you know I never eat breakfast," she corrected him. "If you're hungry, I think you'll find some juice and left over pie in the icebox."
"Uh-uh. I was thinking more of eggs, bacon, pancakes and coffee, to tell the truth," he said heartily.
"Yech! The very thought makes me nauseous ... Well, if you want to go to all the trouble of cooking that stuff, go ahead"
"Well-I-I, that's not exactly how I saw it." He beamed a sly, congenial smile upon her. "You cook it for me, Carla darling."
There was something deadly about his emphasis on the 'you', despite the cheery smile. She sensed he hadn't asked a favor or made a suggestion, but had delivered an ultimatum. Well, how do you like that? He had a nerve. She opened her mouth to tell him so when he put up his hand, still smiling, and said quietly, but firmly:
"Carla, I said, you cook it ... Now."
Pursing her pretty lips in exasperation, she arose and poutily slithered into her fluffy robe. Surely this was the nastiest, snottiest old man in the world. But if it meant avoiding a fight....
As she stomped toward the door, she flung back over her shoulder: "All right, Burt, for god's sake, come on in the kitchen and I'll...."
"Carla." His quiet but pregnant voice arrested her. "No, not in the kitchen, darling. When you have my breakfast ready, I'd like you to bring it in here on a tray, please." He smiled sweetly.
Furious, she was about to head for the kitchen again when she remembered something. "Burt, I don't know how to cook pancakes!"
He gazed at her placidly, picking up a magazine from his bedside table. "You've got a cookbook, angel. That's what they're for ... Look it up" Then he turned unconcernedly to the magazine.
Well!
Twenty minutes later, Carla re-entered the bedroom balancing a tray laden with the dishes her husband had ordered. The pancakes looked a trifle heavy maybe, but eminently edible. The eggs and bacon had turned out fine. She was actually rather proud of herself. Surprisingly, for the first time since she could remember, she had a bit of a morning appetite herself.
"Thanks, darling," said Burt, accepting the tray on his lap. She sat on the edge of the bed awaiting his verdict on her culinary artisanship. With a surprised little flutter, she suddenly realized that she actually cared what the verdict would be. She looked into his face as he buttered his pancakes, preoccupied. Somehow, he looked different. There was a new air about him. She guessed she'd sensed the first glimmerings of it last night, when he had come and handled things at the police station. She didn't know what it was, this change in him, but she found herself strangely attracted to it.
Burt forked a big bite of pancakes into his mouth and chewed. Carla waited hopefully.
"Say," he said at last, smiling approvingly. "These are good, angel, damn good" As he sectioned off another piece of the stack, Carla beamed proudly. She realized she couldn't have been more pleased if someone had complimented her on her gown or coiffeur or figure. Wow, something was brewing here. Still, mischievously, she couldn't help wanting to test the depth of this newly masterful Burt. Or was she testing them?
"Mother called while I was in the kitchen, Burt," she remarked innocently.
"Oh?", Burt replied offhandedly, happily and hungrily engrossed in his breakfast.
"Yes, she said she was taking a morning flight back to Chicago. I guess she's already taken off by now. She said to tell you goodbye and give you her love."
"Oh? That's nice."
"Burt, that was a simply awful thing you did with her last Sunday, now wasn't it?" she chided.
Burt barely glanced up. Chewing, he said calmly: "I don't want to hear about it anymore, angel."
"But, Burt," she persisted, as if shaming an errant child. "Really, you ought to be ashamed. Honestly, I...."
He cut her off with a raised palm-"Carla, darling," he said pleasantly, masterfully. "Shut ... up" There was a long pause in which his eyes held hers forcefully, piercingly, but not unaffectionately. Then he resumed his repast.
Little shivers of pleasure courted through her as she watched her husband enjoy the meal she had prepared for him with her own hands.
She went to the window and opened the blinds. Bright sunlight flooded the room. It seemed to match her happy mood. She walked about the room, tidying up here and there. From now on, she decided, she would keep their home neater. The idea thrilled her.
"Burt, it's such a lovely day. Let's do some fun thing together, want to?"
"Yes," he smiled. "I'd like that very much"
"What would you like to do, honey?" she asked eagerly, going to sit next to him again.
"Oh-h-h, I don't know. Lots of possibilities for a day like this ... I'll let you know when I decide."
She responded to his mastery with an inner tingle that made little goose bumps all over her fragrant skin. Inside, she was all creamy.
"If I can make a suggestion, poppa," she purred, laying her graceful hand significantly on his thigh," I know one fun thing we could do together for a start, and we wouldn't even have to leave the house"
Burt grinned the contented grin of a happy man.
The Goslin's never did leave their home that Sunday, one thing leading to another. And another and another.
As dusk began to shade their window, Carla I rolled over, her ripe nudity glossed delicately with the evaporating fuels of love. She sighed happily. What a day it had been! At one point, her silly, wonderful Burt had shown her the column he'd written last night when he was up so late, typing. The column was a big expose of her little brush with the law. Burt had been very gruff and bearish about it, he thought. Actually, his bluff had been delivered quite cutely in her opinion. Anyway, he'd told her she'd better keep in line from now on, or else he was going to publish the scandalous article in the Herald. Silly. A man like this, a real man, didn't need such a club to kep his woman straight. But if he thought he did, if his imagined threat was what had wrought this thrilling change in him, who was she to rock the boat? Men ... They could be so silly sometimes. So wonderful too, she knew, contemplating her husband next to her in the bed.
"Can't I get you anything, love?" she asked solicitously. "Would you like me to mix you a drink"?
"No thanks, angel. Somehow I just don't feel like a drink today," he replied pleasurably.
His hand slid over the moist contours of her tummy to cup and caress the creaminess of first one, and then the other, of her breasts. Gently, he circled the base of a rubbery, cherry-red nipple, round and round with his forefinger. When he grasped the perky tip and rolled it, she saw it come tightly erect and experienced a warm liquid sensation deep in her stomach. Such a man I've got, she thought blissfully, running her fingers through his hair.
As Burt shifted to put both hands more urgently upon her, she saw the proof of his vigor. He began pulling her to him as-her darling blue eyes lighting with joyous rapture-she purred: "Oh, Burt ... Again?"
"Yes, again," he leered lovingly. "Come here, Mrs. Goslin."