found out about her night with Martin. Perhaps that was all she was, just a hot, fucking little whore who was ready to drop her pants at any prick that came along. She dropped to the floor crying in great gasping sobs and trying to blot the horrible thoughts she was thinking from her mind but it was a long hour later that she managed to lift herself to her feet and stagger down the hallway to the bathroom to prepare herself for Greg's homecoming. The dark shadow of what was to come the following weekend hung heavy over her like a black cloak of doom, but she knew there was nothing that could be done to stop it… nothing at all.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Janet was preparing the salad when she heard Martin's car, with her husband and Martin inside, pull into the driveway. She put the bowl on the counter and walked toward the door to be ready to meet him when he entered; she hoped Martin wouldn't insist on coming in the house. She didn't want to see him. Though she knew she would have to face him on Friday, perhaps she would not have to go through looking at him just now after the humiliation he had subjected her to earlier in the afternoon.
Just as she came to the swinging door between the kitchen and living room, she saw a note scribbled on the blackboard she used as a reminder with her shopping; she didn't have to guess that the handwriting belonged to Martin. The note was short and not so sweet. There was a single sentence, instructing her to make sure Greg would accept the weekend invitation and she knew she had no choice. In a moment her husband would be in the house and she would have to conspire against him.
Janet quickly erased the board and decided to wait for him in the kitchen, pretending to be busy preparing beef stroganoff, though all she had left to finish was putting a fire under the meal. Unaware, she thought, I must be unaware that Martin has invited us to the beach. Martin would be surprised at Greg's acting if he realized that Greg knew about their affair the other night. It would make him angry and there was no telling what he might do.
She tried to turn her mind to more pleasant thoughts as her husband entered the kitchen alone; she found herself breathing a small sigh of relief.
'Martin's got something up his sleeve,' he said, without even greeting her, and she could see that he was extremely angry. It must have been horrible for Greg, she thought, riding all the way home with Martin, knowing the man had totally debauched his wife. Greg was not a violent man, but a situation like that could have made most men commit murder.
'He's invited us to the beach for the weekend,' he continued. She said nothing for a minute, waiting to hear his reaction. 'What the hell does he think he's doing?' he almost yelled, slamming his fist on the counter. She watched him look around the kitchen uselessly looking for something else to hit to relieve the pressure building in his brain.
'I don't know, darling,' she said, walking toward him. 'Let's have a drink. It'll settle you down for a while and we can try to determine what he wants. Who knows, maybe he has even changed his mind and isn't going to do anything,' she said, wondering how Greg would feel if he knew that Darleen was going to make a play for him.
She followed him into the living room and stood beside him as he fixed them a highball. He talked about his dislike for Martin and she listened dutifully, knowing that there was no way on earth for them to get out of what was going to follow in a day and a half. They had to go through with it and that was all there was to it.
Though Greg's job seemed no longer important to him, Janet didn't want to wait for a man who might spend ten years in prison, therefore, she wanted to please Martin at all costs. But Greg's focus was upon their marriage and their lives together, lives that were in jeopardy. If Martin could keep them under his power they would be no longer free. If he had to live under the yoke of fear, allowing his wife to sleep with another man, then his life was not worth living. He had not considered that Darleen was also a conspirator in the plot.
'Perhaps we should go with them to find out what he wants,' she suggested when she found Greg had not completely agreed to go. He had told Martin that he would see if Janet had made any other plans for the weekend, but Martin was not worried, not after his afternoon visit to her kitchen.
'There is nothing we can do without knowing what he really has planned,' she said. 'I don't think it can do any harm. At least, not if the two of us are there.' She almost believed her own words as she spoke. Martin was obviously a professional at blackmailing women into his bed, and apparently, to Janet, so was Darleen. She was at his mercy and could not tell her husband that she too had joined the conspirators.
His high Midwestern morals had not kept him from stealing, but they had kept him from other women. Sex was sacred to Greg. Though they had been married for several years now, he failed to recognize that it was not just something they happened to share with each other. The idea had never occurred to him that other women could give him much more pleasure than his wife. Nor had it occurred to him that he could give her much more pleasure than he did. As far as he knew, there was only one way to do it properly, and that was the way he always did.
Janet, however, had discovered new innovations through Martin, making her more susceptible to the idea that they could go to the beach house. She did not believe that Greg would be seduced by Darleen. But the exhilarating thought of being made love to by Martin, even though she knew it was wrong, drew her to the subconscious conclusion that they must go. Consciously she could not accept what she had done. But subconsciously she needed to be used like Martin used her, demeaning her in her own eyes, using her as a means to an end, not as a feeling, sensitive human being.
'I don't know if it'll be safe for you, honey. I know they'll try something,' Greg said hesitantly.
'We have to take the chance though, darling,' she said. 'If we don't do at least that much, he could decide that he should turn you in. No one would believe that he had done to me what he had, and after all, it isn't a crime. He didn't rape me. And even if I testified that he did, it wouldn't hold up in court. If he disclosed to the police and the company that you've been embezzling, no one would believe anything I said. So we just must go.'
'You're right,' he said, looking at the reddening eyes of his wife. He could not tell that she was acting, that her tears were not real. She often cried when a crisis came. There was no reason to think that she was faking. 'I'll call Martin now,' Greg finally said after pondering for a moment longer. 'He said we would leave around noon on Friday, and I'm sure he'll be very happy to hear we're going.'
Janet didn't want to talk as she reclined back in the back seat of the white convertible. It was twelve thirty on Friday afternoon and they had been driving for fifteen minutes. She leaned her head back and worriedly watched the speedometer creep past ninety as they headed south on the Santa Ana Freeway.
Greg and Martin chatted in the front seat, while Darleen sat on her left, telling her about the nightclub, Grant's Tomb. Janet barely heard her. The last time she had been in a nightclub she had ended the night in bed with another man. I could never talk to Darleen if I knew she had been to bed with my husband, she thought. How can she do it so casually, as though nothing had happened.
Janet was still seeing the flashing strobe lights that had beat on her brain a little over a week before and her thoughts roamed aimlessly. She watched her husband nod now and then while Martin talked about the beach and the tan they could get with only one weekend. She thought they would probably not see much sun if the Kellys had their way.
'… sailboat is in perfect condition,' Martin said. 'We should have good weather all weekend. Have you ever sailed,' he asked Greg over the boom-thump of a folk rock song on the radio. He shook his head.
'Not much sailing water in the Midwest,' he said.
'Then you'll have to learn. You happen to be lucky enough to have one of the best teachers on the coast,' he bragged. 'What about you, Janet,' he asked, turning his head to look at her.
'Fine,' she said, wishing he would keep his eyes straight ahead. The traffic was too heavy to be looking around and not paying attention to the road. Finally, to take her mind from Martin's driving, she turned to Darleen and tried to concentrate on what she was saying.
They all continued to talk. Greg was more relaxed with Martin now, and Janet forced herself to speak with Darleen in order to keep Martin from turning around again. She would rather spend the day in bed with him than die with him.
She nervously watched the water as they came out onto route one. The dunes were high and there was no danger of going over a cliff, at least not yet. Martin had slowed to seventy miles an hour, which was still too fast for
