The woman stood as they approached, smiling in a bold, easy way. Cord went to her and put his arm about her waist, letting his fingers splay familiarly on the satiny surface of her almost naked hip. 'Roger and Diane Slater,' he said convivially, 'This is my wife, Cindy. The wildest little woman north of the Golden Gate Bridge.' He winked at her. 'HELL, and south, east and west of it, too!'
Cindy moved her body closer to his approvingly, rubbing her bare flesh against him like a purring cat. Then she stepped forward and took Diane's hand, coolly, briefly. 'Nice to meet you, Mrs. Slater,' she said in a throaty tenor.
'It's a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Cord.'
Cindy pivoted her body to Roger and took his hand. 'Well, well, so you're Roger Slater,' she purred. 'Marc's told me so much about you.'
Roger grinned. 'All of it good, I hope.'
'Very good,' Cindy said. Her cool gray eyes appraised him in an almost predatory way, and Diane saw that his eyes seemed to be caressing her jutting breasts. They were still touching hands. Roger finally released the clasp, but as if with a great reluctance.
'Well, Rog?' Cord asked. 'Can I pick them, or can I pick them?'
'You can certainly pick them!' Roger agreed ardently.
Diane felt uncomfortable. What was the matter with Roger? she thought. He was acting like a school boy, looking at Cindy's exposed bosom like that and holding onto her hand so long. Not that she was any better! 'Marc's told me so much about you!' and standing there showing off her body like a common tramp…
She realized Marc Cord was speaking to her, and her eyes flicked up to meet his. 'I'm sorry, Mr. Cord,' she said. 'What did you say?'
'Marc,' he answered. 'None of this 'Mr. Cord' stuff. Marc and Cindy, Roger and Diane. Okay?'
'Okay.'
'What I asked was, did you kids bring your suits? It's a great day for swimming.'
'And for drinking rum cocktails,' Cindy added, still looking at Roger.
'Sure,' Cord said. 'And for drinking rum cocktails.'
'Well, yes, yes, we did,' Diane told him. 'Bring our suits, I mean.'
'Fine! I'll show you where to change. Cindy'll have a couple of tall ones made for you when you come back. Won't you, honey?'
'Certainly.'
Cord, taking Cindy's hand, led Roger and Diane across the width of the patio to where a redwood door was set into a covered sun porch, flanked on both sides by long, bamboo-shaded windows. There was a compact bar at one end of the porch inside, and a large blue-and-gold tweed couch, and several comfortable-appearing chairs. Cindy went immediately to the bar and began to blend rum and Bacardi mix into a tall pitcher. Cord indicated an archway leading into the interior of the house proper, to where a closed door was situated. 'Dressing room's in there, kids.'
Roger nodded. 'Thanks, Marc.' And then to Diane, 'Come on, honey.'
She followed him into the dressing room. When he had shut the door, she took his swimsuit, rolled in a towel, from her purse and handed it to him. Then, she went primly into the partitioned cubicle at one end to change. She saw him scowl darkly as she did — he obviously didn't approve of her modesty — but she certainly wasn't about to strip naked in front of him after last night; especially not when he, too, would be nude. She simply couldn't bare to look at that impossibly huge member of his again, even in a state of flaccidity.
She undressed, folding her summer dress and underthings carefully, and slipped into the paisley two-piece. It fit her snugly, accentuating the firm, generous hills and valleys of her alabaster body. Looking down at her planed stomach and her tapering thighs and calves, she felt a painful vulnerability — as if she were somehow like the almost assuredly wanton Mrs. Cindy Cord. But she forced that consideration from her mind, and stepped out of the cubicle. Even if she wasn't having a good time, she had to pretend that she was enjoying herself; and she couldn't do that if she was constantly worrying about her partially undraped body.
Roger looked at her with critical approbation but said nothing. She allowed him to take her arm, and they went out to the sun porch again. Cord and his wife were sitting side by side on the tweed couch; two frosted tumblers filled with chipped ice sat next to the now-full pitcher on a woven rattan table in front of them.
Cord stood up and favored Diane with a profligate smile as his eyes traveled the width and breadth of her creamy body. He emitted a long, low, appreciative whistle. 'Well, now, aren't you something, Diane!'
She blushed under his frank examination. 'T-thank you,' she said in a faltering tone, lowering her eyes.
'You've got a beautiful, desirable woman there, Rog,' Cord said. 'You're a lucky man.'
'Yes, a lucky man,' Roger answered, but there was an undeniable note of bitterness in his voice that was painfully apparent to Diane.
'Let's have a drink,' Cindy said, rising from the couch. She poured the two tumblers full of the pale, golden rum concoction.
'Good idea,' Cord agreed earnestly. He picked up the full glasses and handed one to Roger and one to Diane. 'Drink hearty, kids. There's plenty more where these came from.'
Diane tasted hers responsively. The liquid was tart, without much alcohol taste at all, and really very refreshing; she didn't care for liquor much, and she was glad she wouldn't have to pretend to like the drinks, that she could compliment her host and hostess on them genuinely. She noticed that Roger had taken a long swallow from his glass, and was licking his lips. 'Very good!' he said enthusiastically, beaming at Cindy.
'Thank you sir,' she replied, dimpling prettily.
Cord suggested then that they all go out near the pool. Cindy carried the pitcher of rum cocktails, and they took up residence at one of the white metal tables. The men began to talk business, discussing things like Roger's proposed new duties and advancement possibilities, and the women were soon completely ignored. Diane felt ill at ease, and at first Cindy made little effort to alter her discomfort; Diane noticed that Mrs. Cord's eyes periodically flashed to Roger, as if she were fascinated by him somehow.
Having nothing better to do, Diane finished her drink. Cord interrupted his conversation with Roger to pour her glass full and wink at her. Dutifully, in an effort to salvage something of the afternoon for herself, Diane promptly drank that second drink down immediately — only to have Cord refill the glass once more. The rum began to take its toll, and she experienced at first a general physical loosening of her body; the tenseness left her, and she felt completely relaxed. Then some of her mental cautiousness began to disappear, and, surprisingly, she found herself beginning a conversation with Cindy, telling her how much she liked the house and surroundings. A rapport seemed to build between the two women, and soon they were discussing the latest fashions and what it would be like to take a round-the-world cruise.
Diane finished her third drink, and Cord quickly refilled her glass. She giggled, looking at Roger as she thanked Marc for his graciousness. Her husband's face was slightly flushed, and he was grinning crookedly. She realized that he, too, had had quite a few of the rum drinks. But she didn't care, not at all; she was beginning to enjoy herself now. She felt giddy and light headed, almost carefree. She was glad they'd come. Cindy wasn't half as bad as she had first thought, and Marc Cord was a very nice, very handsome, very urbane man whom she found herself liking more and more.
Roger wiped a hand across his perspiring forehead. 'Whew,' he said, 'is it getting hotter, or is it just me?'
Cord grinned. 'A little of both. Why don't you go for a swim, Rog?'
'Good idea. I think I will.' He looked at Diane. 'Want to come in with me?'
She shook her head, nuzzling her full glass. 'Not just now,' she answered. She really didn't care that much for the water, and besides, she was too relaxed — almost euphoric — sitting where she was.
'Why don't you join Rog, honey?' Cord suggested to Cindy. 'You look a little warm yourself.'
'Hot would be a better word,' Cindy said with an inference that escaped Roger, and certainly eluded Diane. She stood up, running her hands provocatively down her smooth, bronzed sides. 'Shall we, Roger?'
'After you, fair lady,' Roger said gallantly, slurring the words a little.
Cindy trotted over to the edge of the pool and made a shallow, graceful dive into the long end of the L. She surfaced, tossing her wet black hair like a silky, curvaceous jungle cat. 'Come on!' she urged Roger, who had padded up to the pool edge and was testing the temperature with one foot. 'The water's fine!' She splashed a handful up at him, laughing; he pulled back, grinned lopsidedly, and then surged forward in an awkward, inelegant
