Sort of a super kismet.
“We should be back by midnight,” Amy was saying, opening the door and signaling to me. “Not much later that that, I'm certain.”
“Take your time,” Trudy was gurgling, already kicking off her sandals. Jesus, what sexy feet. “It's all a dollar fifty an hour to me.”
I walked stiff-legged out to the car, which I had left in the driveway after work, and Amy looked down at me.
“How disgusting. Look at yourself.”
“I don't need to, thanks.”
“Imagine. All that excitement over a child.”
“A child of eighteen.”
Amy pressed her lips together as she slid into the car, affording me a good look at her legs. Damned good legs. “Eighteen, my foot, dear husband. Trudy Pipp isn't more than sixteen, and I'll bet my virginity on that.”
“You cashed that in years ago, remember?” I chided.
“It's only an expression,” she snapped, her voice cross. “At any rate, I don't want to catch you playing around with children. It would be a disgrace and an insult.”
I managed to smirk as I started the engine and kicked on the air conditioning. “Then it's okay if I shack up with an adult broad, is that it? Say, somebody like Alice Champion?”
“Stop putting words into my mouth, cave man. You know damned well what I mean. No Trudy Pipp and no Alice Champion.”
I was relieved to feel the strain in my crotch lessen as we backed out of the drive and I got the car out on the boulevard. It wasn't more than five minutes to the Champions' ranch home and I didn't want to pole-vault into their parlor like an Olympic champion.
“Not that Alice wouldn't like to play a few games with your old man,” I continued, seeking to regain some of my lost prestige. “You don't know how many times we've rubbed knees under the bridge table.”
I'm certain it can't be any more often than Sam Champion has put his hand on my thigh,” she replied, her voice sweet with triumph.
“Ouch.”
“Ouch, indeed. Some nights I'm black and blue from his pinching around the insides of my knees. It's amazing that he can play such a wonderful game of bridge while his fingers are walking up and down my legs.”
“Why, that dirty bas-”
“Tell the truth, darling,” Amy interrupted. “Can you call him a bastard with full innocence? Can you tell me that you've never made a pass at Alice?”
I cleared my throat. “I've never tried to throw a long-gainer. Just an occasional down-and-out that she could handle and toss back without any complications.”
She puffed out her cheeks. “At least you're honest. I've seen you two in the kitchen and I'm pleased that you didn't bother to lie.”
“I never lie.”
She turned, her knees jamming into my thigh as she stared at my profile. “Can you promise not to lie to me about Trudy Pipp?”
“What the hell,” I blustered. “'I hardly know the woman… the child. Don't accuse me of something that hasn't…”
“She's tempting, Donald, my boy. Please don't tell a lie now and say she isn't.”
“A bank vault is also tempting,” I retorted, “but that doesn't mean I'm going to try to filch a million when the branch manager's back is turned.”
“Meaning?” she persisted as we turned into the broad driveway leading up to the Champions' suburban home.
“Meaning that I have plenty of money of my own and I don't need to get more by being dishonest.” I leaned over and punctuated my remark with a kiss. “You're a fat enough bankroll for me, baby.”
She gurgled with pleasure and I realized I'd hit home with that shot. Even so, I wasn't any more certain that I meant it than I was certain that I had enough money of my own.
When it came to a broad like Trudy Pipp, I could grow mighty expensive tastes.
Just as my penis began to sit and look around again the Champions opened their front door and, in the din of gay greetings, my family jewel quieted.
CHAPTER THREE
Alice Champion was in good form that night, I discovered during the very first hand her husband dealt.
We were still bidding the first time around when her knee snaked over to rest against mine. I kept my eyes on my hand, which was lousy, and listened to the others bid. There was a long silence and, when I looked up, they were all staring.
“Huh?”
“Your bid, darling,” Amy cooed, her voice dripping like honey that was one degree above freezing.
I glanced at my hand again. Nothing, except a king and queen of clubs. “Two clubs,” I blurted.
“Too late, partner,” Sam replied, peering at me with a funny look in his eyes. “My wife has already said two spades.”
I sniffed, pretending to be baffled by the game when, actually, I was baffled by another sort of game. How could Alice turn me on like that and not miss a stroke in the bidding? Women were heartless creatures.
Alice did me a favor. She got up and went into the kitchen for another bowl of peanuts, giving me a chance to sit back and blow out my cheeks. Watching her disappear, I realized why she'd excited me so quickly. That damned Trudy Pipp was to blame. It had to be her.
Alice didn't have all that much going for her sex appeal. Sure, she had a good body, but she was pushing thirty and there was the first hint of a spare tire around her hips. Her hair was still an unstreaked black and her eyes were warm and brown, but she'd never been what I would consider a sex box.
It had to be Trudy who was still on my mind… Trudy and the fact that I hadn't been in the sack with my wife for a week. Add chastity plus Alice plus Trudy and you've got one overheated accountant who needed a piece of tail in the worst way.
Sam was talking and I made myself listen, trying to return to the party without everybody being damned certain I'd been somewhere else.
“… wish they didn't want us to drop everything and devote all our time to them. Don't you think I'm right, Don?”
I blinked. He was talking about the business, that was certain. Hitchcock and Son were the clients who were always wanting things done yesterday, so it had to be them. I nodded with what I hoped was sincere interest.
“Old man Hitchcock can wait his turn, like everybody else,” I snapped, my voice ringing with authority.
“Good for you, darling,” Amy intoned, looking closely into my face. “Nice recovery.”
I blinked at her, knowing what she meant but pretending, while Sam also blinked for a moment, really not knowing what the dickens my wife was talking about.
Then Alice was calling from the kitchen, pleading for a man to come and help her get the lid off a fresh jar of peanuts. Sam wasn't listening and it fell to me to push back my chair and leave the table. I didn't want to go, because I knew that if Alice had wanted her jar opened and nothing else she'd have brought it into the living room.
“Don't be long, sweetheart,” Amy called after me. The honey had frozen solid and I didn't dare turn to look back.
“I won't. It doesn't take an Atlas to figure out a little thing like a peanut jar.”
Alice was waiting for me, out of sight, a jar clutched in her hands. She looked excited as hell, her breasts rising and falling under a sweater that was three sizes too small, her knees shaking below the skirt of her mini, her white throat working as she swallowed. Right away I had a rod building up again and, by the time she handed me
