is best. I've got a book to pass the time with.' She walked across the soft Persian carpet toward him, and he saw their dark and blonde reflections in the mirror-paneled closet door. Her lushly rounded hips and the flat plane of her belly rising to her narrow waist seemed perfectly matched to his athletically lean body.
Grant turned impulsively to the liquor bottle and poured himself another shot. 'I'll be out fairly late, so don't wait up for me. I have an early meeting in the morning, then maybe we can go out on the town – do a little shopping, whatever you want.'
'Okay, darling.' Claire walked her serious-looking husband to the door.
He stopped so abruptly, just as he was leaving, that they jostled into one another. 'One more thing,' he said, stepping out into the hall, 'I know all about you and that engineer, so you can quit moping around, and try and figure out what we are going to do about it.'
Claire was left open-mouthed as he turned on his heels and disappeared down the hall. It was hard to believe that he knew how had he found out so fast – and she slipped back into the room, feeling nothing more than stunned shock for several minutes. Yes, that was the way it would be with Grant, she finally thought to herself – cold, controlled, no anger – a problem to be solved in a logical manner.
Trembling in spite of her concerted efforts, to remain calm, the unfaithful young wife made herself a drink and settled down by the window.
The hotel looked out over the city, and she could see the low green foliage broken by long – stemmed palm trees illuminated by the city lights. Sighing heavily, she lit a cigarette – then put it out and sipped her drink. Instead of the shame and guilt she supposed she should have felt, she felt a rising implacable anger.
Everything was all mixed up! She'd thought Grant would at least be angry about her affair with Lyle Rhodes, maybe even ask her why she had let it happen but he had shown no reaction at all. The only emotion he showed was to be more distracted than usual, as though his mind were a million miles away. Worse yet, whatever he was thinking about, she seemed to be a very small part of it. She'd been humiliatingly raped, then had worked herself into a mood for reconciliation with Grant, and now the only prospect of excitement was the argument they were going to have when – and if – she told him why she had let Lyle fuck her.
Claire finished her drink and got up to pour herself another. She stared at the amber-colored liquid splashing into her glass, then reminded herself she was drinking way too much. She paused, just about to take the bottle into the bathroom and pour it down the sink, when she remembered Francine was in town staying at her summer house. After mentioning it to Grant this afternoon, it had completely slipped.her mind. The young, dark-haired beauty had asked her to call her house sometime while she was here.
In a vengeful mood. Claire dialed the wondering the number Francine had given her and waited while the servant girl got her on the line.
'Yes?' she heard Francine's voice coming over the phone.
'This is Claire. Look, I can't see you tomorrow, Grant's made a sudden change in plans. He wants us to spend the day together.'
'Okay. Is Grant there with you now?'
'No, he's gone down to the bar to have a 'before-the-meeting' meeting with Meyer.'
'Why didn't you go with him?' Francine asked pointedly.
'He didn't ask me,' Claire admitted. 'Besides, it's a business meeting of sorts and he doesn't like me to concern myself with his job.'
There was a pause at the other end of the line. Claire could hear only some laughter until Francine said, 'Two friends are visiting me here at the house. Maybe you'd like to join us.'
'That'd be nice… but Grant would be furious if he knew I'd gone out without letting him know,' the young blonde demurred.
'Who does Grant Wells think he is?' Francine demanded haughtily.
Claire lit a cigarette nervously. The alcohol had burned off some of the nervousness she'd felt earlier and replaced it with an exciting tingle coursing deliciously over the surface of her skin. 'You know, I was just wondering the same thing myself,' the slightly tipsy wife said with unusual bitterness.
'C'mon, Claire,' Francine continued. 'I've got two very rich, very good – looking friends. We'll drink some Hassa – that's an Arabian aphrodisiac, you know – and maybe have a little fun. Everything you can imagine, with beautiful – girls and handsome men. If that doesn't relax you, I don't know what will.'
'Hassa? Two men?' Claire repeated. Her friend had to be kidding!
But Francine went on, 'You're a beautiful girl, Claire, and you deserve to have your fun. I can't stand to see you waste your life waiting for that no-good husband of yours to pay attention to you.'
The lonely young wife was convinced. 'It's late now,' Claire said. 'I'll only be able to stay until midnight, then I've got to get back.'
Filled now with excited determination, she hung up and changed quickly into a low-cut black dress. After a brisk sweep of the comb through her blonde hair and a dab of makeup. on her cheeks she was on her way down the elevator. For the first time she could remember since her marriage, Claire was in a rebellious mood. Who does he think he is, indeed! she thought in the cab, savoring what Francine had said. Grant didn't have to be so damn condescending. It was as if he thought of her as a child who didn't know any better.
Well, she really hadn't known what she had been doing when she flirted with Lyle Rhodes, but she sure as hell knew what she was doing now!
Chapter 4
Claire Wells knocked nervously on Francine's door and waited for it to open. After a few minutes, she knocked again, irritated that Francine would go out when she was expecting her. After a few more knocks and no answers Claire tried the door herself, and finding it unlocked, she stepped inside. It could very well be that Francine had just not heard her at the door. She might be out on the terrace with her friends or something. Deciding this was probably the case, Claire picked her way carefully toward the French windows on the other side of the living room.
As she walked further into the room, she noticed that a candle was burning in a little alcove by the bar and another in the hall leading to the kitchen. Claire made her way to the candle with the intention of using it to find her way around the house and finding Francine. She picked the candle up in her hand and turned back to the darkened living room. Then, almost dreamily, she paused.
A sound had come from behind a closed door next to the windows. Voices! She thought maybe Francine was in bed with some man. Maybe she'd better leave immediately!
A slight twinge of anger stirred in her at the possibility that Francine expected her to wait outside while she and some man screwed. Picking up her purse, Claire was just about to leave when she heard a man's voice say in French, 'Who the hell ever taught you to fuck like that?'
Claire stopped, translated it again. 'Who in the hell ever taught you to fuck like that?' the man had said. It came out that way the second time she translated it too.. At first she'd thought she'd heard incorrectly, or translated badly. Involuntarily, she found herself wondering what he was talking about.
The answer was a feminine gasp and an exclamation, also in French, of, 'Ohhhh, do that again! It's wonderful! Don't stop… don't stop! Ooooohhhh!'
Claire's breath caught in her throat. Moving across the room she saw that the door to the library wasn't quite closed, and she peered into the darkened room located off the living room.
From a candle placed on the big desk she distinguished two naked bodies on the floor locked in a sensual embrace of fucking that caused her to freeze in shock. Francine was lying on her back with her knees raised high in the air, and a dark-haired man was sliding down between her wide-splayed legs until his head was over her naked, curl – fringed pussy. Then she heard Francine's murmured words, words broken and swallowed and spat with passion, and now she found herself listening, sheer curiosity forbidding her to leave.
Claire's heart pounded wildly. She'd never watched two people actually fucking before – she'd never imagined it would look like this, and it seemed so strange that they were talking in French.
'Oh yes, darling, lick it… lick it t Eat my cunt! Ohhhh, it's beautiful…'
The dumfounded blonde wife could not believe her eyes and ears. A tightening sensation had caught at the pit
