Chapter 8
Ted Haviland got off the plane in Chicago and actually toured the terminal three times before deciding he should definitely go to the home office. He then had three straight shots of Chivas Regal with water, followed by a cup of strong coffee before stuffing his bags in a locker and walking out to catch a cab. He'd make an appearance; that's all. Good Christ, he couldn't sit around and listen to a bunch of shit for a week with what he had tearing up his mind. They could fire him if they wanted; he didn't give a fuck-! His whole goddamned life and sanity were at stake!
And the sickening part of it all was, he still didn't know what he was ever going to do! His meeting with Vickie had certainly done an ass-over-tea kettle back-flip! Instead of reaching her with all of the planned bullshit he'd rehearsed, she'd effortlessly, drawn him right down between her beautiful legs where he'd wanted to be, caressingly draining the fucking spinal juices from him with her love ... and worse, he knew it would happen again when and if he walked in to face her! Jesus Christ, he was batty over that girl!
And he loved Gayle! He couldn't anymore break it up between that sweet doll and himself than he had with Vickie! So what in Christ's name was he going to do? For sure, he couldn't go on this way ... couldn't afford it in the first place, and couldn't stand it in the second! He had to give up one of them, but which one? Christ, it was going to be sticky enough when the loser found out, say nothing of the way he himself, was going to feel! Oh sweet Jesus! The idea of a company meeting made him want to retch. Maybe, if he called Burton and made up a story. He'd come down with the flu on the plane! He was in Chicago, but he should go right back the way he felt. He didn't want to wind up in any hospital here. Burton wasn't a bad egg ... he'd understand. "Jesus, Mr. Burton, I'm sicker than a dog and I know it's flu. I don't want to cause any problems for you, but I'm susceptible to this brutal bug in a bad way. It knocks me out for a couple of weeks. You know ... a guy wants to be with his wife ... !
At nine-thirty in the morning, Vickie Cramer Haviland rang the front door chimes of 17360 Arroya Way in Canyon Hills, Oregon. She had taken an early flight, the restless anger inside her tall, shapely body giving her no peace. On the plane, she had only drunk coffee and smoked cigarettes, cigars being forbidden. Venom steeped her tongue. She hoped she would like this other wife of Ted Haviland she was about to unload on, but if she didn't that would make it much easier. Hate would be more practical under the circumstances.
The door opened to reveal a girl with sparkling azure-blue eyes, vivacious young face and a clouded figure behind the yellow wrapper. Momentarily, Vickie studied her. Then:
"Gayle Haviland?"
"Yes..."
Vickie smiled. "Are you his sister? sister-in-law? cousin, maybe? Not his mother for sure ... I'm talking about Ted ... Ted Haviland."
"Ted? Yes... he's my husband," Gayle readily answered with puzzled expression.
"I was afraid of that," Vickie replied. "Well... I'm Vickie Haviland ... and I think we have something in common, darling ... a husband named Ted! It... he might even be the same man. M-May I come in ... ?"
Gayle's wits were not at their keenest as she stood there staring at the statuesque, beautiful young woman so chicly dressed and decorating her doorway. Her own young mind had known a taxing torment since awakening early that morning, accompanied by a physical lameness and certain little bruises telltaling the obscene orgy she had silently prayed was one of her dreamed, lewd fantasies. But it hadn't been, and neither was the stunning raven-haired girl who wore the briefest of mini-skirts and below the knee matching fuchsia suede boots as if the outfit had been designed with only her in mind.
Confused by the other's almost casual personal questions and ridiculous declaration concerning her husband, Gayle continued to stare at her, making no effort to let her in. Finally, she said: "I beg your pardon? Are you sure you have the right house, Miss ... ?"
"Well... unless there are more Gayle and Ted Haviland's living along this plush drag, I'd venture a guess that I do have the right place," Vickie replied drily, then reached into the stylish fuchsia bag hanging from her shoulder to extract the damning envelope. She held it out to Gayle. "You might see if this is familiar to you ... then we'll go from there."
The fawn-haired young wife, her confusion growing, accepted the offered letter hesitantly, almost as if it might possibly explode when she touched it. Her discerning eyes lingered on the long-lashed dark ones of her caller, but were unable to read anything in their scintilating beauty. An apprehensive, sinking sensation caught at the base of Gayle's soft belly as she recognized her own handwriting and the very letter she had written to Alice Sturges ... but that was weeks ago ... and she'd given it to Ted to mail when he'd left for his Las Vegas meeting!
"H-How did you get this?" Gayle questioned suddenly, noting that it bore no post mark, yet it had been opened!
"You do recognize it then?"
"Of course I do ... I wrote this letter! But it was obviously never mailed, and yet it's been opened! I-I demand to know where you got it!" Gayle insisted, unable now to hide the fearful little quivers in her tone as the nearly nauseating void expanded inside her.
"I think we better have a bit of privacy to discuss this, Mrs. ah... Haviland. It begins to get tacky in the juicier parts I'm afraid," Vickie replied with a sigh. "May ... may I come in now ... ?"
Gayle had begun to tremble visibly in her mounting inner fear of what was about to unfold, but she managed to retain outward composure and stepped to one side, drawing the door open wider. "Please ... I'm sorry ... do come in, Mrs ... ?"
Vickie did, her answering smile humorless. "Haviland, dear, like yours," she said, taking a quick glance around the luxuriously furnished living room. "But for the sake of confusion, why don't you call me Vickie, and I'll use your first name ... Gayle. It's a pretty name. I've always liked it. Are ... are we alone here?"
"A-At the moment. My husband ... Ted's nephew is" staying with me, but he's up in the hills behind the house with his dog," the dreading younger woman answered, pointing toward a chair and slowly lowering onto the edge of another. "Now ... please ... please tell me ... V-Vickie. W-What is this all about...?"
Again Vickie sighed as she crossed her long legs to Gayle's appraising, uneasy gaze. She began slowly and from the beginning, deciding to make it gentle as possible, her first impressions of the sandy-haired young woman even more warming than she might have expected. Gayle's youthful, peaches and cream type of beauty struck Vickie as being almost innocently virginal, and she couldn't help but wonder how those little shell-like ears were going to react to the sordid mess she was starting to relate.
From the onset of the horrifying story with all its shocking details to the bitter end, Gayle sat in what she knew was portrayed stupification, while within her stunned brain reeled, her sickened mind mentally reacting with "Oh no... no!" and "Dear God, nooo!" Still the throaty voice softly continued, effortlessly tearing her secure little world asunder, while simultaneously letting her know with unintentional loud swallows the pain that she, too, had been and still was suffering.
Somewhere along the way, as Vickie went on revealing the shamefully cruel deceit with which Ted had knowingly beguiled them both, Gayle sensed an underlying bond drawing her closer to the alluring, softly speaking beauty who shared her heartbreaking disgrace, just as she had shared his name and bed. And at the same time, the curvaceous, stunned girl couldn't rid herself of the sudden conclusion that she was being punished for her own secret obscene fantasies, and even yesterday's actual debaucheries. That was when she broke down and cried.
For awhile, Vickie remained silent and unmoving to the other's weeping, not that she wasn't sympathetic with the mental anguish Gayle was suffering, for she felt those burning tears and wracking little sobs almost as strongly as she had her own when she'd first discovered the truth. But there were times when only a good cry could vent wretched misery for a woman, and this, she felt, was certainly one of them.
Finally, Gayle raised her head, brushing at her tear-dampened eyes with slender fingers. "I-I'm sorry, Vickie ... but I-I assume you understand," she sniffed, trying desperately to regain control of her emotions.
"To the fullest, dear, believe me," Vickie answered with a compassionate, warm smile as she once more reached into her bag, this time bringing out several facial tissues. "Here, hon," she said, easing gracefully to her feet and taking a step toward Gayle. "Tidy up that cute little nose and go rinse your eyes with some cold water. Then, when you come back we can chat about the future over some coffee and booze, maybe, huh?"
As utterly miserable as she felt, Gayle couldn't help but return the taller, ravishing brunette's gentle smile. Something about her self-assurance seemed to strengthen the younger wife's confidence, and at the electrifying touch of their hands and when she took the offered tissues, that bit of faith grew impulsively stronger, as if somehow Vickie Cramer... Haviland was going to make it all right again!
Gayle straightened to stand. "I-I'll only be a minute, Vickie. I want to slip into some slacks or something. Please ... make yourself at home. There's hot coffee in the kitchen and liquor in the cupboard..."
"I'd rather wait for you, dear, if you don't mind," Vickie said, sitting back down. "Take your time. I've got no schedules to keep. My husband's in Chicago for a week."
Though meant as a self-addressed quip, Vickie had forgotten how her hostess might take it and was immediately sorry and enraged with her own big mouth when she saw the other's blue eyes swimming in new puddles of moisture. Once more, she was on her feet to gently clasp Gayle's soft upper arms in a buoying up embrace.
"I-It's all right, Vickie. I'm not going ... going to bawl again," Gayle sniveled.
"I'm sorry, hon. That was kind of a left handed remark to make ... but honestly it was home-directed," the shapely wife number-two apologized. "I-I guess I've had a little more time to callous in the past twenty-four hours than you. Forgive me?"
"Of course ... and come on, let's go to the kitchen," Gayle said, smiling bravely as she caught the other's hand inside her own. "I can use some of that coffee and booze before I do another damned thing!"
They did, with Vickie's admiration and respect for her fetching young counterpart's unexpected mettle rapidly growing. She slipped into one side of the breakfast lounge, glancing around the attractive, well appointed kitchen and wondering if her Teddybear had ever entertained such ideas of luxury for her. Probably not, the bastard! She doubted that he'd even recognize her unless she pulled up her skirt and spread her legs ...
"What do you like to spike it?" Gayle asked, setting two steaming cups onto the booth-top.
"Big bourbon if you have it, hon ... Old Grandad ... ?"
"Unh unh. Brandy, Chivas Scotch, some good gin and ..."
"Brandy ... and a whole bunch of it. I need it if you don't mind."
"We both need it," Gayle answered quickly. "You to replace the energy you've burned in getting up here ... and me to help develope those callouses you've already started."
Vickie said nothing as she watched the long haired girl move away with an unhidable, voluptuous grace that suggested perfectly balanced contours of body, although they were undiscernible beneath the shapeless wrapper, with the exception of her full, rounded young breasts. Yeah, sweet-face Teddybear sure knew how to pick them ... the sonovabitch ...
"There, the coffee-pot and the booze bottle," Gayle said, setting them on the table and slipping in on the opposite side to uncork the brandy bottle and pour sizeable measures into both their coffess while Vickie went back into her shoulder bag resting beside her.
"Hope you won't mind a little idiosyncrasy of mine," she said, bringing out a long, thick cigar. "Since I was a little girl in West Virginia I've smoked these things. Oh, they weren't quite this expensive in those days, but I guess I enjoyed them as much. You mind?"
"Of course not," Gayle replied, but nevertheless jarred by the sight of such a dazzling feminine face with its lovely lip-glossed mouth bizzarely contorted by a nearly black cigar. She watched her nip the end off with her even white teeth, do away with it in the ashtray, then puff the huge thing with indulged skill into not unpleasant smelling fire and smoke.
Vickie smiled. "Fascinates you doesn't it, hon, a woman smoking cigars?"
"I suppose ... but I guess this is my day for surprises," Gayle answered, sipping at her potent coffee and trying desperately not to slide back-into morbidity.
Vickie read the symptoms and followed up with: "This is Cuban grown, the best tobacco available. I carry with me some smaller, extra-special dolls of Cuban quality a very nice gun-runner gave me in Las Vegas. You might enjoy one later, Gayle honey, when you're feeling more yourself."
"Perhaps," the blonde young wife replied, forcing her smile, her tormented thoughts rapidly overwhelming her once more. She picked up her cup and gulped away a large portion of its too-hot contents.
"Easy, hon," Vickie half-whispered, her soft smooth hand covering Gayle's on the booth-top in reassuring warmth. "We're both going to make it, darling ... and I think in grand style now that I've met you. No kidding, I was worried coming up here ... wondering what wife number one was going to be like, and if I could reach her even if I wanted to. Believe me, doll, you're beyond anything I could have hoped for ... and twice as lovely. Our mutual husband may have dealt us a rotten hand, but let's be fair with him as well as ourselves. We don't know why he did it, though that doesn't alter the fact that he did, and here we are looking across the table at one another, a couple of wives sharing a singular husband in a country where that isn't considered kosher."
"H-He's a bigamist!" Gayle couldn't resist exclaiming, the accusing term hanging on her little tongue with the taste of poison.
"Oh shit, hon ... ! Excuse the expression, but I've had scrumptious dinners following cocktails with so-called celebrities, then gone to bed for a wild night of loving with men whom I knew were outright murderers! And believe it or not, their... his criminal traits never took a tiny delight from the cocktails, nor a minute savor from the dinner ... say nothing of the exotic bedroom entertainment a man like that can sometimes overwhelm a girl with!"
"Vickie! My God! I-I've never heard anyone admit such things! Now ... you forgive me if I sound naive and home-spun. But... but the world you're talking about is way beyond anything I know, while Ted... God! Ted is ... well, he's my whole life! Yes! And he has been for two years ... !
"Your life... or your security, baby? Now don't get up-tight with me," Vickie said. "Just consider what I've said and mull it over deeply. Have you been a real wife to him ... like in bed maybe ... all the way? Think about it, hon. because when he came to me the pair of you had these two-years already behind you. And don't misunderstand, Vickie's not putting you down or giving him license for what he did to us! But there had to be underlying reasons, and in all fairness I don't believe they were those of a handsome young guy with a warped brain. Not our Ted, darling. No. He just stuck his head down too far in the barrel and has fallen in ... but just you and I know that."
Gayle could only stare at her. She'd said so much, and all of it, every word ringing with truth ... philosophical truth! God! She didn't know about those things ... about anything but the sheltering web she'd spun around herself and the obscene secret portions of it that she'd played in ... But it was no longer secret! Luther knew! God yes, he more than knew! He'd been a part of her wantonly insane lust along with Trooper ... yet, this morning he'd come out of his room smiling and calling her Aunt Gayle, as if none of it had ever happened!
"If it's okay, Aunt Gayle, Troop and I are going to explore those hills back there?"
"Yes ... of course, Luther, but be careful..."
"Oh, we will, Ma'am! And I want to let Troop run and play. He loves it when he gets out in open country."
"Just be careful."
"You bet. Anyway, I'll come back early. I want to go through a few chess moves before we leave for Portland."
"What time is that?"
"I have to be there at three I guess."
"Well, come back early for lunch."
"I will... I will... !"
But even though the thoughtful teenager had gone out of his way to spare her any embarrassment, the fact remained that her irrepressible sensuality had reached beyond the fantasy world this time and another person shared her lewdly intimate, dark secret! And now had come this incredible nightmare that the beautiful, cigar-smoking woman across from her had exposed to finally rip her protective, comfortable web to tatters! God, was it punishment? Ooohhhhh ... what was going to happen to her?
"Vickie ... ! What're we going to do?" Gayle gasped out abruptly, reaching across the table to clutch at the other's reassuring warm hand. "W-We can't just sit here, drinking to drown our sorrows like a couple of has-beens ... !"
"The first thing we don't do is panic," Vickie interrupted with a pressured little squeeze of her hand. "And for the record, this gal never consumes booze to smother her problems, hon. She guzzles it because she likes it... another trait she cultivated in childhood."
"Oh, I'm sorry again, Vickie," Gayle said, dropping her eyes apologetically. "But... but... "
"I know, baby, and don't worry, we're going to do plenty. Like I said before, I've had a little more time than you to hash and rehash this lousy mess, and ... well, the more I've gone over it and weighed the facts the brighter the picture becomes."
"Brighter? God... how can you say that... ?"
Vickie held up her hand in the manner of a traffic policeman. "Hold it, darling! Let's just listen to Vickie for a moment. The alternatives are these: an annulment on my part; certainly no court would give me any problem there, but... that would expose our husband for the bigamist that he is, and quite frankly, Gayle, I don't want him prosecuted, or get him fouled up with the law. Alternative number two: you could divorce him. The grounds are obvious, but the results for him would be the same in respect to the law. Now, I can see right off in those frantic blue eyes of yours that the thought of you divorcing Ted Haviland strikes you with inconceivable agony ... because you really do love him regardless ... right?"
"Oohhh ... yes, Vickie. God yes, I do love him, the sonovabitch!" the distraught young wife replied, her anger mounting.
"Exactly my sentiments, darling. I, too, love the goddamned bastard!" the blazing, dark-eyed second wife-bitterly exclaimed. "So, there's only one charted course we can take from there!"
"Wh ... you mean ... ?"
The long, raven-haired second wife nodded slowly. "We share him, Gayle, and I don't believe you'll find that too distasteful once the initial shock of the idea has worn off. The fringe benefits alone are enough to make your red corpuscles stand up and nudge one another, that is if you're all the sensuous gal I think you are. But don't try to swallow it in one big gulp. We have a few days to banter it back and forth before the lord and master gets back from Chicago. I'm staying at the Canyon Inn downtown, and we can get together as often as you like ..."
"Downtown? I'll call and have your bags sent out here!" Gayle said, getting immediately to her feet. "You're staying right here with me, Vickie, until Ted comes back ..."
"Oh Gayle, I don't want to put you out... "
"Put me out? Don't be ridiculous! Besides, you ... you have as much right here now as I do," Gayle said, taking the other girl's hand inside her own once more. "And ... and I need you with me, Vickie ... I really do."
The exquisite showgirl beauty swallowed at the sudden tiny lump in her throat at her counterpart's almost whispering words and warm pressuring hand. Finally, she said: "I think we both need each other very, very much, Gayle darling."