straight to my head.”
Meanwhile, I'd withdrawn my hand and fished out a handkerchief, wiping myself reasonably clean. After that, things quieted down again and I found myself studying Amy, wondering if Sam had tried anything with her in the kitchen. Sure, he wasn't much in the sack with his own wife, but that didn't mean my business partner couldn't be a tiger with someone else's woman.
Amy seemed ruffled, but I didn't think Sam had done the ruffling. Perhaps she was still shaken from her silent encounter with Buddy Pipp, although that was hard to behave. After all, the kid hadn't turned on at all and Amy wasn't so physical a woman that she'd get her gun just looking at a handsome stranger, who was only a kid, at that. At least, I didn't think she was.
Still, there was something wrong and I was certain of it when she got up from the bridge table early, stretching for all to see, including Sam, who seemed to take a deep breath at the sight of her straining breasts.
“Time for us to get on home, Don,” she murmured, her voice sleepy, but I knew when my wife was tired and this wasn't one of those times. She was faking all the way.
I didn't do any of the protesting because I was anxious to get out of there. Sure, it was fun diddling Alice, but she hadn't gotten around to diddling back and that left me hot and bothered-just like the week before. That night Trudy and then Amy had tapped my overflowing cup and tonight Trudy and Amy were still close by. There was an outside chance…
“Hey, it's only eleven o'clock,” Sam was complaining. “Since when do you turn into a pumpkin at midnight?”
Alice batted her eyes at me. “You haven't given me a chance to be a gracious hostess, Donny. After all, there are other things to do besides playing bridge.”
“What's that supposed to mean?” Amy snapped, sitting down fast and leaning across the table.
Alice looked at her husband and Sam cleared his throat. “Go ahead, darling,” Alice muttered. “It's your speech.”
“Well,” Sam began, his throat bobbing as he swallowed a half-dozen times, “there comes a time in some people's lives when they need a change. Alice and I feel we're at that place when we've maybe gotten a little tired of each other and we're looking around for new experiences.”
I knew damned well what Sam was getting at because I'd thought out those same words a number of times myself, but I'd never gotten around to suggesting to Amy that we try them out on our friends. Amy I figured, wasn't that tired of me yet… not after the way she'd performed down at the sea wall that night.
“Do I make myself clear?” Sam asked, his voice desperate as he looked at me and then Amy.
I nodded but Amy was looking at him like he was a candidate for a long rest in a place where everybody talked in whispers. “I don't understand a word. You're not thinking of quitting your job and bumming around the world, are you?”
Sam and Alice shook their heads like twins on the same string. Sam licked his lips and began to sweat through his shirt, so I stepped in.
“Let me talk to her on the way home, okay? We'll think about it and let you know, if that's all right.”
Sam looked relieved. “Now I know why I picked you as a partner, partner. Take over from here. We'd be pleased to know what you think about the idea.”
“Roger.”
Amy and I left at once, joining in the chorus of good nights at the door. I looked down at the slight stain on Alice's miniskirt, but I didn't think anyone else had caught sight of it. Once on our way, Amy turned to me like a starving native looking at a tender missionary.
“Well?”
“They want to swap, naturally.”
“Oh?”
“Sure. He's been firing blanks with her because they're kind of old hat together and he's hoping another partner will show him he's still a man. Alice… well, she's just hot to jump into bed with someone else most any time.”
“How well I know,” she replied, turning her gaze on the pavement ahead. “I saw that spot on her skirt.”
I swallowed. “She spill booze?”
“Of course,” she said with sarcasm. “Early Times all down her front. Old Donald Brady would be more like it, your own brand of hundred and ten proof.”
I sighed. “What do you think of Sam's offer?”
She shook her head. “I don't think we need them yet.”
I thought she was going to say something more, like we don't need them yet because we've got something better at home, waiting in the parlor. I merely said, “How come you want to get home so early?”
She didn't look at me when she replied, “How come you didn't protest when I got up to go?”
She had me on that one.
CHAPTER NINE
Fancy writers talk about cutting the tension with a knife and I'd never understood what they were talking about until we were ready to walk into the house. If I'd had a blade in my hand then I would have been slashing right and left, hitting the target every time.
The place was dark, except for a faint light in the front room and when we entered we saw the three of them curled up in front of the television set. I looked at Amy and she stared back at me, licking her lips, that same glassy glint in her eye… the one she'd had when Buddy Pipp had walked in.
The place looked like a dining room of a busy resort hotel, the coffee table littered with plates and bottles. They'd feasted on sandwiches, pie and soft drinks and, from the looks of the plates on the floor, Alexander had helped lick everything clean.
They hadn't seen us yet and, on impulse, I grasped Amy's hand, giving it a hard squeeze. My wife looked at me and her lips curved in a smile. For a moment I felt a little sad, because I knew she was off on a trip and I knew what had to happen on her journey. Sure, I'd be up to the same tricks, but it was a little hard for me to accept. I'm an old double-standard man from way back, I suppose, but that didn't mean I was right.
I leaned close, whispering into her hair. “See you around.”
She nodded. “I'll think of you often, darling.”
That was good enough for me. She had to have her satisfaction through a night of variety and I couldn't blame her for that. This was a physical thing and she'd assured me that I wouldn't be forgotten, no matter what would be going on in her body,
Clearing my throat loudly, I stepped into the room, pulling Amy behind me. She was a schoolgirl being dragged onto the dance floor for the first time, and I liked her for that, too, but it was clear that her need would prevail. It was best to get on with it.
Heads turned and, stumbling, around, Buddy Pipp got to his feet, an awkward grin splitting his open face like two halves of a sandwich being pulled apart. Trudy leaned back on her hands, gazing up at me, her eyes once again like overheated glaciers. Alexander merely lay on his side, his tail thudding on the floor. He was happy in the knowledge that he had less chance than ever of being left alone.
The young people looked at the litter and Trudy spread her hands, “I guess we got sort of hungry. We always eat through the Westerns.”
“Ah, the late show?”
Buddy nodded, scratching what there was of his chest while Amy watched with a certain fascination. Three Bugles to the Rescue or something. It was pretty good, except for the part where the trooper fools around with the captain's daughter.”
Amy smiled and I watched her eyes frisk his lean body like a police sergeant's hands. “You get bored when the love scenes come on?” she asked, her voice quiet and, I thought, a bit sultry.
He shrugged, plunging his hands into his jeans and, again, his tool and its assemblage of extra parts popped
