Chapter 2
Jacqueline turned to go, backing out the door in confusion, her hand at her open mouth. "Excuse me," she stammered. "I didn't know you were-"
Mona never knew exactly what compelled her to go to the girl and draw her back into the room. Except that she had to convince her that she was really ashamed of what she had been doing! But, much later she would see considerable ambiguity in her action-as if she had decided at that precise moment to set into motion a plan to recapture her husband's interest that had subconsciously been formulating in her mind since the girl arrived.
"Please-don't go, Jackie," she urged the girl. "Stay ... please come in ... I must talk to you." Mona took her arm and led her into the room. Closing the door, she walked quickly to the chair where her robe was draped. She put it on and fastened the cord around her waist.
"You mustn't go away like this, thinking all sorts of terrible things about me," she said. "I want to be frank with you, Jacqueline. I couldn't bear to be embarrassed for the rest of your stay-each time we saw each other ... I couldn't bear it. So let's be sensible and grownup about what you saw me doing."
The girl was staring down at the floor, unable to meet Mona's eyes. "I was playing with myself-there's nothing so very terrible about that, is there?" Jacqueline was silent. "It's a perfectly normal, natural thing to do, you know."
Mona smiled, surprised at the cool way she was dealing with the situation. "Why on earth should either of us be ashamed or disgusted? I'm sure every girl-and every boy, too, for that matter-has done the same thing. And if someone walks in and sees them doing it: well, so what?"
Jacqueline still didn't reply. She stood there, nervously twisting her fingers, looking uncomfortable and disconcerted. Her long golden hair hung loosely about her shoulders, her slim young figure lithesome in a form-hugging grey sweater and pleated skirt. She wore no make-up but her pretty face with its high cheekbones and pale blue-grey eyes looked rouged as her color deepened at Mona's open conversation.
"Please sit down, Jackie," Mona suggested. "Mr. Ashley is away and Anne's school holidays don't start till the end of the week, so there's no great rush to get the housework done and besides, I'd like to get to know you a little better. This looks like a good opportunity, don't you think?"
Rather hesitantly, Mona thought, Jacqueline moved to a chair and sat gingerly on the very edge of the cushion. "That's better." Mona stepped a little nearer to the girl and helped herself to a cigarette from the box on the bedside table. "You don't smoke, do you?"
Jacqueline shook her head. Mona was silent for a moment, then: "What do you think of us, Jackie? I mean, what do you really think of us?"
The girl looked up at her in surprise. "What do you mean, Mrs. Ashley? I'm very happy here, of course-"
Mona wagged a finger at her. "It's Mona," she admonished. "I told you when you first came-you're to call me by my first name. You're not a servant, you're one of the family." She looked at her cigarette with distaste. "These are foul the first thing in the morning!" She grimaced. And stubbed it out quickly in the ashtray.
"No," she continued. "I really can't expect you to answer that question so easily, can I? In only three weeks, it's almost impossible to really get to know anyone, not well, anyway. Not even Americans!" Mona regarded Jacqueline thoughtfully. "But I would like to know you better, my dear," she said softly. "I hardly ever have an opportunity to meet any new people, apart from the neighbors-and they're awfully boring, most of them! Elderly or retired, or businessmen commuting back and forth to Los Angeles or New York-like Caine."
She was conscious that she had put a faint but disdainful sneer into the words "like Caine." Jacqueline evidently noticed it, since the girl at last looked up and met her eyes.
"Aren't you happy here, Mona?" she asked. And Mona was gratified to hear concern in the girl's voice. "I thought you had everything you wanted: a beautiful home overlooking the ocean. A husband, a child."
Mona broke in impatiently. "Oh yes!" She cried. "I've got all the trappings of a good life-I have a home, I eat well, I have quite a few clothes ... and it's all empty as hell!"
She reached out for another cigarette and as she put it between her lips she realized that her fingers were trembling. "You must have noticed that Caine is hardly ever at home! To keep us in all this-" She waved her hand contemptuously around the room-"he has to work almost around the clock. And when he could be here with us he prefers to ... "
Mona stopped, realizing that her voice was growing hysterical. She waited a moment, controlling the tears that were welling up in her eyes. Softly she finished: "He prefers to sleep with other women! He treats me like a machine ... an object!"
The tears were running down her cheeks before she was aware that she'd started to cry. Mona brushed them away angrily. "I'm sorry, Jackie," she said. "I shouldn't burden you with my problems-it's not fair. But I've kept all this bottled up for so long ..."
"It's all right, Mona." Jacqueline was at her side, her arms stealing around the older woman's shoulder, drawing her face against her stomach and stroking her hair tenderly. "Cry-it's the best thing to do!"
When Mona's sobbing subsided, Jacqueline gave her a handkerchief and helped her dry her tear-stained face. "There, there," she soothed gently. "I'm sure things really aren't so bad. You're just upset, you'll see-in a moment you'll remember all the good times and the bad times will disappear ..."
Mona managed a rueful smile. "I am a big baby, aren't I?" she said. "I'm sorry Jackie-I'm sorry about everything. Especially about your seeing what I was doing to myself!"
"No," Jacqueline told her. "Let me tell you something that will make you smile." Mona listened, fascinated as always by the liquid sound of Jacqueline's Swedish accent. "The reason I was so embarrassed when I walked in is that I was doing exactly the same thing this morning! And I already felt so ashamed! Then I came in to wake you ... it was the shock, Mona! To see you doing what I had been doing! It startled me so much!"
They stared at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. Mona clutched Jacqueline around the girl's waist and giggled helplessly.
"How silly we are," she gasped. "Oh, Jackie, we both had the same secret and were so stupidly ashamed of it!" Mona could feel the young girl's body shaking with laughter against her face. Through the thin sweater she could smell the sweetness of Jacqueline's perfume-a subtle and fresh bouquet that blended wonderfully with the girl's feminine scent.
She drew Jacqueline down until her ear was level with Mona's mouth. "Tell me," she whispered. "Did you enjoy touching yourself, Jackie? Tell me what it was like ... "
The girl stiffened slightly, then Mona felt her body relax again. "I was in the bath," she replied, lowering her voice to a husky, breathy whisper. "And, suddenly I felt this desire to-to feel myself. Do you know what I mean?"
Mona nodded, keeping her lips close to Jacqueline's ear, her face only scant inches from the Swedish girl's.
"I pretended to myself that it was another girl who was touching me," Jacqueline continued. Her voice was so low that Mona had to strain to hear what she was saying. "I put my fingers between my thighs and ... "
"Yes?" Mona felt breathless, a curious constriction in her throat as she waited for the girl to go on.
"I touched myself, very intimately," Jacqueline whispered. "Right inside ... I put my fingers right inside myself-just as you did, Mona. The hot water made me feel so sexy ..."
"Then afterwards, I hated myself for being so weak and for having such awful thoughts-"
"Awful?" Mona murmured. "What was so awful about them?"
Jacqueline's eyelashes fluttered nervously. "To imagine another girl touching me? Don't you think that's awful, Mona?"
"Why no," Mona said slowly. "I don't really think that's bad. Has it ever happened to you, Jackie? Have you ever been caressed by a girl?"
"No ...? Jacqueline's voice trembled. She breathed the word out and managed to make it sound more like an invitation than a denial. "Have you, Mona?"
"Once," Mona told her. "A long time ago-at school. Why do you think it's so awful, darling, if you've never experienced it?" The endearment was spoken before she realized what she was saying. And Mona knew that even if, at the start, she had only intended to tease the girl, from this moment on she was deadly serious in her flirtation and in the plan to regain her husband's favor that she had only dared dream about before this accident. The hair's breadth between playfulness and seduction had been crossed-perhaps without either of them realizing it. And ... Mona realized that she would have to hurry if she was going to have the stage set before her husband returned home. She might never get the chance again.