Chapter 4
She decided that she would try to remember the best time she had ever had with Gil. After reviewing a few incidents which stood out in her memory, she arrived at one particular night during the second year of Gil's Army service. It was New Year's Eve, and they had partied until late. Half-stewed, they went home to the apartment at four o'clock in the morning. Neither of them was sleepy. They were keyed up, still slightly boozy. They went to bed and made love. It went on and on until she climaxed three, four times and Gil was panting like a stallion before he finally made it with a burst of pure passion that was so good she could almost feel it now, remembering it. It was a lovely time, but it was so long ago. She hadn't had one like it since.
It shocked her to realize that she hadn't been a multiple threat in a long time. It seemed, as she thought about it, that lately all Gil did was crawl on and get it over with. Just one good one and then, bam, off to sleep.
She was suddenly concerned. Was she becoming a discontented wife? Was the next step to play musical beds with the neighbors? Not a chance. Things would be all right if she could have a baby, and she could when-when what? When Gil's mother sold her house? Mrs. Emory wasn't going to sell. When Mrs. Emory died? She felt guilty. She didn't wish the old woman dead. She didn't hate Mrs. Emory. Mrs. Emory was as healthy as a horse, fortunately. She should be good for another twenty years, at least.
Twenty years-yipe!
Black gloom settled over her. She thought about the years ahead and wished that she could foretell what would happen. She thought about growing older and not being able to start a family, of seeing Gil age before his time, seamed with worry and the extra financial burden he carried. She would not let it happen.
She would start tonight. She'd tell Gil, "I'm going to have a baby." She'd say, "Gil, we're going to start a family, and no backtalk. If the choice has to be made between a new pair of shoes for junior and a plumbing job on your mother's house, then your mother is going to have to learn plumbing. That's all, boy."
That was nutty. Gil wore the pants in the family, thank God! She wouldn't have a man who couldn't manage his own wife.
But hadn't she waited long enough? Wasn't it time to start thinking of herself? She was a good wife. She tried to make life good for Gil. Not that she was perfect. She had her moods, her black moments when she wasn't fit to live with, times when she made it rough on Gil. But she wasn't a bad wife. She could be better and she would. She'd love Gil until he screamed for mercy. If that's what it was going to take to make up for Gil's lack of vigor in bed, she'd be the aggressor.
She would become a sex kitten. She wouldn't wait for Gil to make the first move. If she felt like moving, she'd move. If she could interest him, she would be the one who got all the gravy from her new policy. She might be able, with some determined sexiness, to talk Gil into letting her go a few days without the pills.
She wondered how long it would take to get pregnant?
No matter how long it took, it would be fun.
Just before six she checked the potatoes in the oven. They'd be right in another few minutes. She turned on the broiler in the stove to let it heat and stood by the window, waiting for the red VW to turn into their street. At five past six, impatient, she went to the telephone. Gil was still at the shop.
"Gil," she said plaintively when he answered, "it's after six."
"Is it? Christ!" He sighed. "I've got to finish this job, honey. I promised it for first thing tomorrow morning."
"Dammit, Gil. I've got dinner almost ready."
"Well, hold it awhile. Give me thirty minutes."
In thirty minutes the potatoes would be overdone, tough. "Oh, Gil!" she said dispairingly. "Not on Friday night! Can't you leave it?" Her voice softened involuntarily. "You know how I look forward to Friday nights."
"Well, I guess I could come in a half hour early tomorrow."
"We can go to bed early," Susan said. "I don't promise we'll get to sleep early, but we can go to bed early. Now will you please get the hell home?"
He chuckled. "Okay, babe. See you in ten minutes."
She wasn't taking any chances. She didn't start the steaks until he drove into the drive. Before that, however, she rushed into the bathroom, took a quick shower, dried, scented herself with her nicest perfume, the one' she saved for special occasions, flipped her hair with a few quick strokes of the brush and put on her new, adorningly nude dress. She put her nicest housecoat over the black dress and tied it tightly before going back to the kitchen.
Gil drove into the driveway. She met him at the door and lifted her face to be kissed. He pecked her on the lips, and she moved close against him, asking for more. She pulled his face down and planted her lips on his mouth. He tasted good, manly, a sexy taste spiced with cigarettes.
"What's the big surprise?" He smiled at her. He was almost six feet tall, husky. When he wasn't worrying about money he had a young smile. His sandy hair was cut short. His face was lean, his nose strong. His grey eyes were piercing. She thought he had the look of an eagle about him. She loved him without reservation.
"Don't be impatient," she said, smiling suggestively. "Go get washed. I've just put the steaks in."
"All bears beware," Gil said. "I'm hungry enough to eat one."
"Hurry then," she said.
She poured wine into the tall crystal glasses. The color went well with her nice table. Then it was time to prepare the big surprise, what she hoped would be, for Gil, the main course of the evening-herself. She pulled the drawstrings of her housecoat and noticed that she hadn't drawn the drapes in the kitchen.
She closed them, got rid of the housecoat and, with the proud look of a beautiful woman who feels confident in her dress, she waited. She lit the candles on the table, turned out the overhead lights. She heard Gil coming through the house and struck a pose for him, a mischievous smile on her full lips.
It was comical. He walked into the kitchen and said, "Who forgot to pay the light bill?"
Then he glanced at her. She was standing near the table so that she would receive the romantic, flattering glow of the flickering candles. He did a cartoon type double take, his mouth open.
"Great bubbling Christ!" he said.
She moved toward him slowly, her hips swaying, her lips parted, finding it difficult to breathe. She wet her lower hp with her tongue.
"Like it?" she breathed.
"Great God," he said. "Where's the rest of it?" But he liked it. She could tell by his eyes that he liked it.
"This is the ultimate weapon," she purred. "With it, we women are going to conquer the world." She came close to him, thrust her bare breasts against his chest. "Or," she said, "we might even succeed in seducing our husbands with it."
He had changed into a short-sleeved sports shirt. When his arms went around her, she could feel the firmness of his muscles. She clung to him, full of love for him, feeling wanted, tender.
"Will it work, do you think?" she asked.
"I wouldn't be surprised." He closed her mouth with his. His hands came up, just as she had suspected they would, and closed over her exposed breasts. It was a long, lovely, shuddering kiss. She luxuriated in the hardness of his body, in his smoothly rippling muscles as he moved to make his embrace a living thing.
She let her hands rove up and down his back, from his flat hips to his muscled shoulders. She moved her hips. She pressed harder and harder against him until she felt him begin to respond. Finally, she pushed herself away.
"The steaks," she said, content, now that the fires had been kindled, to let them smoulder through the meal, until, later, one touch from him would set them blazing.
"Who cares?" He held onto her, his hands moving down to lift her by the soft handles that were her rounded buttocks.
"Lover," she said. "There's prime beef in the oven." She kissed him quickly, moved slowly away, feeling his eyes on her swaying rump as she went to take the steaks from the broiler. She served, seated herself. Gil was still standing, watching her, his eyes glued to her exposed, pointed breasts.
"Sit down," she said softly.
He obeyed. The steak was just right, red in the center, piping hot. At first, desire won out over appetite, but after a few bites Susan realized that she was hungry and began to enjoy the meal. The wine was good but the headiest draft of all came from Gil's eyes as they studied her from across the table.
"That's quite a dress," Gil said, after he, too, had blunted his first appetite. "Where did you get the pattern?"
"I didn't make it."
"Oh?"
"Do you remember Lucia Moreland, the dashing brunette at the Jerry Jones party?"
"The hot number?"
"Is she a hot number?"
"That's the impression she gives. I didn't do any personal research."
"I should hope not!" Susan said. "Well, she has a little dress-shop down at the plaza."
"Would it be impolite to ask how much you paid for it?"
She was off-guard, weakened by the emotions she had experienced, knowing that she had made a hit with Gil in the dress, remembering the strength of his arms around her.
"It's a seventy-nine-ninety-five dress," she said, teasing him.
He looked at her in complete disbelief.
"It was marked down to twenty dollars," she said, seeing the danger of that course. She didn't want to get him sidetracked on money, not with the evening opening so perfectly.
Seventy-nine-ninety-five was such an unthinkable price that it really hadn't registered on Gil. He could understand twenty dollars. It just happened that twenty dollars was the size of the electricity bill he had paid for his mother that very day. Twenty dollars represented two hours of hard work when things were going right at the shop, more hours if he ran into problems. The insurance was due on his mother's house, and he hadn't paid off the December bills for his own home.
"Twenty dollars?" he asked gruffly. "Great God, Susan, for a thing you can't even wear outside of the house?"
Susan felt her spirits sink a bit. She was not going to let him spoil the evening, however. "I haven't bought it yet, Gil."
"Well, don't." He spoke unnecessarily sharply.
Tears burned at the back of her eyes. He had liked the dress. He was being unreasonable. The dress had sparked fires in both of them. Why did he want to spoil everything. It was so nice to be able to look sexy for him. It was so nice with his arms around her. She loved the way he had kissed her, the way his hands found their way to her bared curves.
"I'm sorry," he said, but his voice was still hard. "I'd like nothing better than to be able to buy you nice things, everything you want, but you know how things are."
"Yes," she said. The steak had lost its flavor. "I damned well know how things are. How much money do we intend to hand out to your mother this month, Gil?" She was immediately sorry for saying it. However, the damage was done. His face hardened.
"Oh, Gil," she said. "I was going to tell you. I was just having a little fun with you. I haven't bought the dress and if I do keep it it won't take a penny out of our budget. Lucia wants me to go to work at the store."
"Damn," he said disgustedly, putting down his fork.
Well, she thought, this evening is shot to hell. She decided she might as well go ahead with it, now that it was started. She had tried being nice and it didn't work.
"I'm going to have this dress, Gil," she said. "And there are a lot of other things I want, too. I know how it is with us money-wise, and I understand your concern for your mother. I don't really begrudge what we do to help her, it's just that I think it's time I began to get a few of the things I'd like to have. This job with Lucia will allow me to buy some very nice dresses at cost."
"It doesn't matter how I feel about your going to work?" Gil asked.
"Yes, it matters," she said. "You matter more than anything to me. You know that. But this will be just a part-time job, Saturdays and a couple of evenings. We could work it out so that you could do your late work at the shop on the evenings when I'm working. You wouldn't even realize I was away."
"Susan," he said, very carefully. "I just don't like the idea of my wife working."
She fought down her growing anger. "Can't you learn to like it?"
"I see you've made up your mind."
"Yes," she said simply. If he had not spoiled the evening, if he had understood about the dress, she wouldn't have gone against him so strongly.
"I guess that's it, then." He fell into silence and finished his meal quickly. She wasn't hungry any more, but she finished the steak simply because they had just one good steak each week, and she would be damned if she'd let him spoil that little pleasure for her. But it was spoiled. She didn't enjoy the remainder of the meal.
He was the one who broke the long silence. "Help you wash dishes?" He made it clear by the tone of his voice that he didn't want to help.
"No," she said. "I'll do them. Why don't you take a glass of wine into the living room and watch TV?"
He poured a glass and left her alone in the kitchen. It didn't take long to wash the few dishes and the broiler pan from the stove. She cleared things away and walked into the living room. Gil looked up from the evening paper. She had thrown an apron around the black dress. He grinned at her, then laughed.
"That's pretty funny," he said.
He looked down. The frilled apron did look silly atop the straight, black dress, below her bare breasts. She giggled.
"It is, isn't it?"
One nice thing about Gil. They had their little spats, all right, most married people did, but with Gil things ended quickly. There was none of that silly business of pouting and carrying a grudge for days, not even for hours. She tossed the apron aside and sat on the hassock in front of his chair. He had not, as she suggested, turned on the television.
"Gil," she said.
He looked at her thoughtfully. She had gone to a lot of trouble to make the evening interesting for him. She'd outdone herself in arranging the table and in preparing the food. She'd gone out of her way to doll herself up in a sexy dress for him.
"Hey," he said. "This is Friday night, remember?"
"I remember," she said. "I was afraid you'd forgotten."
"Now, now." He grinned. "No pouting. Let's be pals, okay?"
Susan smiled. "Suits me, boss. Wanta play games?"
"Such as?"
"I could name a few."
"Well?"
"Like post office?" she asked. "For children," he said. "Grab ass?' "Don't be gross."
"Nine innings of mattress polo?" He grinned. "You don't play that game in innings."
He reached for her. She went to him and let herself down onto his lap. Her hair fell around her face, making an attractive chestnut frame for her full lips, her mouth parted slightly. "It's played in falls, like wrestling. I promise to lose three out of three falls."
His lips were firm, gently insistent. His hand went immediately to her breast. She felt her nipple harden under his touch. She could also feel, with a tightening in her stomach, a growing hardness against the soft bottom of her. She squirmed to feel him better. Hot juices roared through her system.
All the frustration, all the pent up desire, grew into an undeniable flood of need inside her.
She wanted him. She sought him with clinging body and soft arms and gusty sighs. She felt him with her hand, loving his voluptuous round hardness. She wanted him in her. She could not wait.
She had decided to be more aggressive, hadn't she?
"Are you going to carry me off to bed or do I just fall down here on the grubby old rug?" she asked, her voice throaty.
"That rug, thank you, is not grubby. My wife keeps a nice house."
"Don't tease," she said.
"So fall down on the floor."
It sounded like a wild idea. The rug was new. It was clean, deep piled. She pushed herself backward from his lap before he could catch her, eased herself down, pushing the hassock away in a quick movement. She gathered the dress in her hands and folded it to her waist. She could feel her glands working like mad. He looked down and she raised her hips from the floor, pushing herself at him, urging him with all her body to take her.