Chapter 11
Things ran along smoothly enough. As the days went by, Susan seemed to forget the events of the past weeks. When she did think about them, she couldn't even remember how it felt to be in Lucia's arms. The details of the orgiastic scene in their bedroom were blotted out by the sameness of the passing days. But, in blue moments, she admitted that nothing had changed. Gil was still Gil. She still didn't have a baby. The money problems were unaltered.
She did her housework with the usual efficiency. She enjoyed her hours at the store in Lucia's company. There seemed to exist an unspoken agreement with Lucia. They simply didn't mention sex.
Susan was so confident things were under control fhat she invited Lucia for dinner. She refused, however, to drink heavily, and Gil and Lucia, their spirits dampened by Susan's abstinence, didn't drink much either. The evening passed without complications. They listened to records, discussed general subjects and Lucia went home just past eleven.
Susan thought the evening went well. It was as if the three of them were saying, by their restrained actions, "Well, we've had our little adventure, let's not complicate things any more."
Susan agonized with Gil over his tax return. They filed early, borrowing money from the bank to pay the tax. Gil had just finished paying off the $200 he borrowed to pay the assessment on his mother's house. Susan kept telling herself that the situation was fine-that things couldn't help but improve.
Soon they'd be able to start a family, buy some new furniture. She was reasonably happy. She didn't have all the things she wanted, but she wasn't in dire need of anything. She used her small salary at the store to buy two new outfits, one of which as a real knockout, one very practical.
She was completely unprepared for the night when Gil came home early with a large manila envelope in his hand. She met him at the door, as usual. She kissed him, as usual. He went through the kitchen, as usual, and came back to sit down at the table while she finished dinner. Then things stopped being usual.
"Hey, cat!" Gil said, as she was washing pans prior to putting the food on the table. She always washed her pots and pans before eating, so as not to have so many dishes to wash afterwards.
"Ummm," she answered.
"Come here. Take a look at this."
He pulled papers from the manila envelope. One was a picture. It was an eight-by-ten glossy of professional quality, high in contrast, good in shadow. It was a good picture of an attractive blonde woman. Gil tossed it carelessly toward her, watched her face as she picked it up.
The woman was lying on her back on a rug, her hands beside her head. Her breasts, even in repose, were good. They stood up, strong and firm.
Her navel was a dark, shadowy dent in a smooth plane of stomach. Curves rounded into the mound of love, which was covered by a wisp of thin material. Her hair was light and attractively done. Her eyes were large. Her lips were parted in a suggestive smile.
"Friend of yours?" Susan asked, still unsuspecting.
Gil didn't answer. He pulled another picture from the folder. This one was of a tall, muscular man in a swim-suit. He stood beside an expensive-looking swimming pool. He looked about 35 years old, had short hair with a natural kink. His face was well-featured and reminded Susan of someone.
"Looks a lot like Gregory Peck, doesn't he?" Gil asked.
"Gil, baby," Susan said acidly, "I can understand the female pinup. Some little boys like them. But why the muscle man?"
"My week for boys," Gil said. "Actually, he's for you." He grinned at her archly.
"I don't want him," Susan said.
"This is Mr. Paul Radford," Gil said, tapping the picture with one finger. He picked up the picture of the girl. "And this is Mrs. Radford, Una to her friends."
"So?"
"So," Gil said, looking sheepish. "The Radfords want to buy our dinner next Saturday night."
"For free, take," Susan said. "But why the skin shots?"
Gil laughed. "Remember that crazy newspaper you brought home? This is that swinging Florida couple."
"You didn't!" Susan said, shocked.
"I did!" he said. "Not that I'm serious, you understand. I was just curious, that's all. I couldn't believe it. I thought I'd answer the ad and see what happened. This is it."
Susan was curious, in spite of her shock. "But what did they have to say?"
"Oh, their letters are couched in very careful language."
"You've written them more than once?"
"Twice. The first letter asking for information and then one telling them about us."
"And just what did you tell them?"
"Oh, that we were a swinging couple, all that rot. It seems that Mr. Paul Radford digs your picture, baby. And Mrs. Una Radford here is ape over yours truly."
"Where did you get a picture of me?" Susan asked.
"I had a snap enlarged."
"Which snap?"
"The time you wore that sexy bikini over at Vero Beach."
"Oh, you bastard!" Susan said. "I was about to burst out of that thing!"
"Maybe that's why Paul Radford likes the picture."
"You silly-" She turned away. "What will those people think?"
"'Those people' think we're going to Tampa to play fun and games."
"Well, not me, buddy-boy," Susan said heatedly. "For God's sake, what do you think I am?"
"Hey, cool it! I told you, this is just for laughs. I just wanted to see what would happen if I answered their ad, that's all."
"Let me see their letters," Susan said.
"Here's the last one." He handed her a typed sheet.
Dear Susan and Gil, Thank you so much for the very nice pictures. Through them, we feel as if we know you without even having met you. Paul cannot get over how very lovely you are, Susan. And I think that you, Gil, are a very attractive man. I do hope that our pictures pleased you as much.
Paul suggests-he's leaning over my shoulder as I write, panting with impatience-that we get together on neutral ground. Perhaps dinner-our treat of course-at the South Seas House in Tampa? Eight o'clock Saturday?
If you will confirm this date by return mail, Gil, we'll be there early and we'll have a cozy table reserved. When you come in, just ask for Paul Radford. This will be a lovely way to determine whether or not our little friendship by mail is to grow into a more satisfying relationship. It will give us a chance to look each other over in person, to talk a bit, to discover our mutual interests.
Please say you'll meet us there?
Lovingly, Una Radford
"Someone is nuts," Susan said.
"It's a little hard to swallow, isn't it? A chick like that and a man who isn't a bad looking cat. Seems they're going to a lot of trouble, advertising in the newspaper, sending expensive pictures. You'd think playmates wouldn't be that hard to find."
"The way she underlines certain words," Susan said. "That leaves no doubt about what they're saying."
"That's the way it seems."
"What could they be after? Blackmail?"
"Oh, I don't think so," Gil said. "It takes all kinds of nuts to make a world, doll. Maybe they really do get their kicks this way."
"Not with me, they don't!" Susan said, letting the letter fall in front of Gil. "I'm not going to Tampa."
"I wasn't really thinking of going," Gil said. "I think I'll write them, though. I'll tell them we can't make the gig this time. I'll tell them you came down with something, something lingering. We can keep the letters going and maybe get them to commit themselves in language a little more clear."
"Why?" Susan asked. "Why do you want to play around that way? I don't think you should. What if they are some kind of blackmailers, or what if they suddenly appear at the back door and say, here we are, let's play grab-ass or something?"
"No danger of that," Gil said. "I used the address of the store, and I told them our last name was Stevens."
"Oh, that would make it rough!" Susan said sarcastically. "They'd have a real hard time tracing us from that. All they have to do is see the name, Gil Emory, up over the door at the store, figure out that, since the store is a one-man operation, Gil Stevens must be the same as Gil Emory. Then they look under E in the telephone book and here they are, saying-"
"Let's play grab-ass," Gil finished for her. "You're a worrywart."
"You shouldn't have written to them in the first place," Susan said.
"I was just curious," Gil said defensively. "After all, what's the harm? I'm going to write them and see if I can draw them out a bit in their next letter. I'll put in some sexy things and see if they take the bait."
"I wouldn't, Gil." She was genuinely concerned. She didn't like any part of it. It seemed dangerous, foreign to all her thinking. "They might be nuts or something. This person who signs herself Una Radford might be some psycho. He could have stolen the pictures somewhere. You just don't know."
Gil looked thoughtful. "There's only one way to find out."
"No!" said Susan.
"It wouldn't really hurt anything. They wouldn't rape us right there in the South Seas House. Hell, if they're on the level, we don't have to play games with them. The worst we could do is find out about this and get a free meal. The South Seas House is a first-class joint. A meal and a couple of drinks tfiere is about equal to our weekly budget."
"No!" said Susan. "Now put that mess away and let's have dinner.
That was Monday night.
On Tuesday, things started, as Susan was fond of saying, to go to hell in a handbasket. At Lucia's store, she lost her patience with a particularly trying matron and told the corseted old bitch that if she didn't like the way things were done to take her business elsewhere. The old bitch, it seemed, was one of Lucia's oldest, free-spending customers.
Lucia calmly rebuked Susan, and Susan had to take it. She didn't like taking it, but after her temper cooled she realized that she had been in the wrong. She took Lucia's bawling out, called the corseted old bitch and apologized. It was disgusting to be forced to humble herself for the old bag. It set her up for a rousing quarrel with Gil that night.
The argument began over something completely insignificant and developed into a flushed, name-calling knock-down and drag-out during which Susan said things about Gil and about his mother she soon regretted. But she was too steamed up, too stubborn, to go crawling to Gil. They went to bed not speaking. They were cold and distant, and when Gil touched her she pulled away.
The spat continued at the table on Wednesday morning. Susan, sorry about the things she'd said, tried to be sweet.
"So," Gil said nastily, "we're bright and sunny this morning. Just as if nothing happened."
"Nothing did happen, really, Gil. We both just lost our tempers, that's all."
"Speak for yourself," Gil said moodily.
So she was apologizing again. "I'm sorry, Gil. It's just that-"
"Oh, so now we're sorry," Gil said. "You think you can say anything, get away with murder, just as long as you smile at me and say you're sorry."
She was surprised. That wasn't like Gil. Gil was the original copy of the easy-going husband. He didn't mind a rousing fight now and then, but when the fight was over it was over. He never held a grudge.
"Gil-"
"I have feelings, Susan," Gil said. "You said some pretty nasty things last night."
"I know. I said I'm sorry."
"But you meant what you said, didn't you? You said you wished my mother were dead, Susan. Do you remember that?"
"I was mad, Gil. For heaven's sake! You don't really think-"
"I don't know what to think. You've been acting pretty strange lately."
She bristled. "I've been acting strangely!"
"You act as if you were God's gift to the human race. You do as you please. You forget you've got a home to look after, and you expect me to just sit back and grin and take all the rot you want to hand out."
"Whoa, buster," she said. "I take care of your damned home, such as it is." She knew, she thought, what was bugging him. It was the job.
"If it's my working that's eating your gizzard, you can forget that, man. I'm going to work until I get the kind of clothes I want. You can't buy them for me."
He was deceptively calm. "That's one thing I've been meaning to ask you, sweetie. Why the sudden yen for fancy dresses and things? Who are you trying to impress?"
She flushed. It was very close to an accusation.
"You know better than that," she snapped.
"Do I? You're gone two or three evenings a week. How do I know what you're doing?"
"Now just a damned minute, Gil Emory. You know damned well what I'm doing."
"Do I? Don't you think I know how easy it would be for you to say the store is open late, or you and Lucia had to put up stock or something. Hell, how do I know what you're doing. That Lucia-"
It was too much. "You son-of-a-bitch," she spat. "How dare you accuse me of-"
"Of what? Do you have a guilty conscience, Susan?"
"Me?" She was screaming. "What do you mean, do I have a guilty conscience? I should think you'd be the one for that, writing those damned letters."
She threw the manila envelope containing the Radford's pictures on the table in front of him.
"You're trying to set up a wife-swapping deal with total strangers, and you have the gall to accuse me of having a guilty conscience."
"Maybe this is why men swap wives," Gil said, glaring at her.
She felt the tears forming. There was a sharp little pain at the back of her nose. She knew she wouldn't be able to go on much longer without crying.
"After all," Gil went on, carried along by his anger, "what's wrong with what I've done? I was just trying to satisfy my curiosity, that's all. I seem to remember that it was your idea."
How could she explain? She couldn't. She could only strike back. "Sauce for the goose," she said inanely.
"What's that supposed to mean? Lucia?"
She remembered a weapon. "Not at all," she said quietly. "I mean the mousy little wife of your sergeant friend. I'm talking about that weekend in Atlanta." She saw from Gil's expression that she had struck a nerve. "Just what did you do for a whole weekend alone in Atlanta with that woman while her husband was hurrying back to the base for duty? What did you do-play checkers?"
He moistened his lips. "Just what any red-blooded man would do," he said defiantly. "I took her to bed."
"Repeatedly," he added.
She had. always suspected it. The woman had told her husband, after he'd been called back to camp unexpectedly, that she had stopped off with relatives over the weekend, and Gil had come home with a very logical story about running into buddies in Atlanta and boozing it up with them.
But Susan had always suspected that Gil and the woman had spent the weekend together.
Suspecting and knowing for sure were two different things, however. It hurt. Even after so long a time, it hurt. They had been so happy then. How could he have wanted another woman when they were so happy, when the flame of their love was so bright?
"So that's one you owe me, isn't it?" she asked calmly. "Add Lucia, and that's two. Maybe we'll go to Tampa Saturday night. I might just take a liking to this Paul Radford."
"Knowing you, I'm sure you would," Gil said.
"I just might. I'm human."
"If that's what you want, I'll answer the letter this morning."
"You do that."
"Don't think I won't."
"Oh, I'm sure you will," she said. "I've seen the picture of Una Radford, remember?"
He slammed out of the house, his breakfast unfinished. Susan was at last able to give vent to her tears. She ran to the bedroom, threw herself down on the spread and let the sobs shake her body until she was emptied. She went to the bathroom, rinsed her eyes with cold water, tried to busy herself with housework.
Gil returned to character at mid-morning. "Hey, kid," he said, when she answered the telephone. "I said some bad things."
"Yes you did."
"Is it too soon to say I'm sorry?"
She didn't answer for a moment. She felt weak, deserted. Some of the props had been knocked out of her life by Gil's admission of his infidelity back there in Atlanta. She was still hurt by his voiced doubts of her faithfulness. "Maybe it is a little soon," she said.
"I'll give you until evening," he said. "Just remember that I didn't mean half the things I said."
After she put the telephone back on its cradle, she wondered which half he did mean.
It was one of Susan's evenings to work. She told Lucia she might have to give up the job because of problems at home. Lucia didn't seem to be concerned about it. There was a coolness between them since the incident of the corseted matron. Throughout the evening, their talk was strictly business.
This change in Lucia seemed to confirm to Susan that it would be best if she did quit. It was nice to be able to buy a few nice clothes, but she had worked long enough to pay for the two outfits. She didn't really need anything else.
Just before closing time a young blonde came into the store, and Lucia greeted her and escorted her back to the counter. Susan, not wanting to be curious, stayed in front and waited there until Lucia brought the young girl to her.
"This is Frances," Lucia said to Susan. "She's the one I told you about the day you came to work. She still hasn't found anything. If you're really considering quitting...."
"I think it would be best, Lucia," Susan said, smiling with resignation. Lucia wasn't hiding her attraction to the newcomer very well. "You know how it is."
"I'm so sorry to see you go," Lucia said politely. "I've enjoyed working with you. If you should ever need a recommendation, feel free to call on me. I'll give you the best one possible."
"Thanks," said Susan. "I don't think I'll be needing that."
"Well," Lucia said. "If you ever need anything from the store, I'll give you a good discount and you can lay anything away for as long as you like, darling."
"That's very kind, Lucia."
Lucia walked the blonde to the door, unable to keep her soft hands away from the girl's good body. She was so wrapped up in her new playmate that Susan had to smile as she began closing down the store for the night. She was sure now that it was for the best.
Her working upset Gil. Her working had led her to commit the nearest thing to infidelity she had ever done. Her coming to work had resulted in her going to bed with Lucia, and it had put her in a bed with both Lucia and Gil. Her working had, she thought, brought unwelcome tension into her marriage. She was sorry that she had ever started.
Now was the time to call it quits and go home to try to repair the damage. She wasn't too concerned. Her marriage was strong enough to survive what had happened. Not even Mrs. Emory's old stucco house could seriously damage her relationship with Gil.
She was in a very humble frame of mind when she went home to Gil. He tried to say that he was sorry again and she wouldn't let him. There was a minor competition in apologies. Neither of them was willing to let the other take all the blame for their fight. Things ended well in bed, where they both won, together. Susan was warm, relaxed, happy. She was dozing when Gil pushed her to attract her attention.
"Susan?"
"Ummm?"
"Are you awake?"
"Just barely."
"We have a problem."
"I know," Susan said, thinking he was going to bring up money. "What is it this time?"
"That letter I threatened to write," Gil said. "I did. I was pretty teed off. I'm afraid I wrote it and put it into the mail before I cooled down."
"Well, you can just write another one."
"Too late. They wouldn't get it in time. They'll be going to Tampa, and they'll expect us to meet them there."
"I thought they lived in Tampa."
"No, their address is in Miami. You remember they suggested that we meet on neutral ground?"
"I can't be too shook up about it," Susan said sleepily.
Gil brought up the subject again at breakfast. "We'll be doing them a pretty dirty trick if we let them drive all the way to Tampa and don't show up."
"Call them or something."
"I tried. No Paul Radford. Must be an unlisted number."
"Or they're using false names."
"Be that as it may, I feel badly about it. They may be a couple of nuts, but it's still stinky of us to-"
"Stinky of you, darling. It was your doing, not mine."
"Well, I feel badly about it."
"So you go down to Tampa," Susan said.
"Oh, sure!"
"Gil, you don't really expect me to go down there knowing that those people expect us to-"
"We could drive down, have dinner and tell them thanks, but no thanks."
"And get into some tricky situation."
"I think they're civilized people."
"It just isn't that important to me, Gil. I don't care what those people think, just as long as they don't think I'm like them. The best thing we can do is forget the whole mess."
"It's not that I'm interested in their little games," Gil said. "It's just that I hate to tell someone, anyone, that I'm going to do something and then not do it."
There was sudden sickness in Susan's stomach. Was he genuinely concerned about keeping his word or did he want to go to Tampa to meet the Radfords because of the lovely body of the girl in the picture? More and more she was realizing that Gil had changed.
First had come the gradual loss of interest in making love with her, then the confession that he had been unfaithful with the sergeant's wife in Adanta. Put the episode of Lucia in between, and you had a changed man, a different man from the one she had married and loved.
She wasn't sure she knew her husband anymore.