'I bet you will, you goddamn fox,' John laughed.
'Well, what do you say?'
'What can I say? Chances like this don't grow on trees!'
'And neither do girls like Jill Parker,' Harry added, his face growing conspiratorial. 'Believe me, John, she'll be everything I promised!'
The two men laughed, and finished their drinks. And even as Gay Sommers was making her way to Tom Parker's cottage, Harry found himself constructing yet another plan for the seduction of Tom's beautiful young wife.
Jill Parker crept to the door of the bedroom, and peeked around the door at the inert form of her husband, lying naked on the rumpled bed, his breathing coming in short, hoarse gasps. From where she stood, Jill could almost smell the fetid odor of the cigarettes and liquor he'd consumed the night before, and it made her sick to even think about it.
She had had a restless night, and this morning when she had awakened, she'd felt as though every part of her body were bruised and torn, and she still felt obscenely filthy when she thought of the debasing attack her husband had made on her the night before. Her aching breasts were painful to the touch, the insides of her thighs were sore, and the softly tender lining of her abused cuntal mouth was red and chafed from the violent pounding of her drunken husband's irrational attack the night before.
As quietly as she could, Jill entered their bedroom, went to the closet, and pulled out the first dress she came to. She didn't want to wake her husband, didn't want to risk the chance of having another scene with him this morning. But as she was pulling the light summer dress over her head, Tom groaned and rolled over in the bed, his eyes making unsuccessful attempts to focus on her.
'Jesus Christ, what a head!' he moaned, his hands coming up to shade his eyes from the glare of the morning sun as it filled the room from the unshaded window. 'Pull the blinds, will you, Jill?'
Jill hesitated, and then moved to draw the curtains across the room, plunging the room into a dim half- light.
'Goddamn, my fucking head,' Tom repeated, starting to rise to a sitting position, and then falling back on the bed with a groan. He looked up as Jill made her way to the door.
'Where are you going?' 'Out.'
'Give me a minute to find my head, and I'll go with you.'
'I'd rather be alone,' Jill said shortly, and moved out into the other room.
'Oh, for Christ's sake, I'll only be a minute.'
'Take your time. I'm going out alone.'
Tom cursed under his breath, and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling with exaggerated exasperation.
'What do you want;- An apology? All right, I apologize. Satisfied?'
'No.' Jill answered sadly, from the other room. 'No, I'm not. Not by a long shot.'
'Well, that makes two of us,' Tom groaned, and turned on the bed.
'Fuck you, you bastard!' Jill spat at him, angered again, and made her way to the front door.
'Fat chance with you around!' Tom yelled after her, but she was already gone, slamming the front door with a crash that sent Tom's hands to his head again, and made his temples throb with the pain of the previous night's excesses.
Tom didn't know how long he'd fallen asleep after that, when a knocking woke him at the front door. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, numb from sleep and his hangover. Hell, Jill must have forgotten her key!
'Go climb in a window, bitch!' he shouted. 'I'm not getting up!'
But then he was surprised to hear the melodious, purring voice of a woman filter in from outside, and it was a woman who was not his wife.
'Tom? Is that you?'
That certainly wasn't Jill, Tom thought quickly to himself She hadn't sounded that sexy in years. In fact, she had never sounded that sexy.
'Yes… Who is it?' Tom called out, wincing from the pain that shot through his head with the effort.
'It's Gay… Gay Sommers…' said the voice. 'Could I talk to you for a minute?'
Gay Sommers? The boss' wife? God, what could she want with him so early in the morning? Automatically Tom checked the small clock on the bed stand, and realized it was not nearly so early as he'd thought.
'Yeah… yeah, sure… I'll be right there.' He stumbled upright, a searing blast of hangover almost making him topple over, and he was forced to steady himself with a hand on the nightstand. He winced and rubbed his forehead, then staggered for the door.
He almost opened it before he realized he was completely naked. He grabbed his pants, which were thrown to one side from his burst of passion the night before, and hastily buckled them. Nude save for that, he opened the door.
His hangover was forced into submission by Gay Sommer's provocative beauty. She was fascinatingly sensual in a pair of lemon yellow shorts and a stretched brassiere of overloaded cups. He leaned against the door jamb, breathless, drinking in her long, statuesque legs, bronzed nude belly which showed flat and wrinkle free between the shorts and her halter, and the top twin halves of her barely concealed breasts. can I come in, Tom?' She asked hesitantly.
'Yes, please do.' Tom said. He held the door open for her and she entered. As she brushed past him, he smelled the faint fragrance of her musky perfume, and the headiness of her scent was like nothing he'd ever dreamed of He shook his head, images of soft music, and crystal chandeliers, and brandy flashing briefly in his mind… The sudden provocative thoughts made him redden slightly, and he turned to the stunning brunette almost apologetically. Still, there was no denying it, he thought. She would probably be one holy terror in bed. The way she looked, the way she talked, smiled, and smelled were irrefutable testimonies to that.
'What can I do for you?' Tom asked as she sat down.
'I… I' she faltered, her eyes looking up at him. 'Could I have a drink?'
'A… drink? This early in the morning?' Tom grinned, attempting a joke.
'Yes. I need one. It will give me strength.'
Tom padded to where the bottle he had brought along was standing. 'It's bourbon, Mrs. Sommers,' he said, 'It's all I've got.'
'That'll be fine. Anything, so long as it's straight. And my name is Gay, remember?'
Tom went into the bathroom and brought out two water glasses and poured her a stiff shot. He looked at the other glass, tasted the dryness in his mouth and throat, and then poured a larger shot into the other glass and took a swallow.
The alcohol burned a path to his stomach and water welled in his eyes. Gasping a bit, he said, 'What… what's the matter, Gay?'
'It's so embarrassing. I don't know how to put this.'
A cold wave of apprehension began to creep along Tom's backbone. It was as if he had a premonition of some disastrous happening… in the back of his head a small warning bell tolled and the pit of his stomach rolled.
'Tell me' he urged.
'All right.' Gay Sommers lowered her eyes from his. She took a long, low sip from the bourbon as though she was kissing its amber liquid. Then she blurted, 'Do you know where your wife was last night?'
Tom was taken aback. What a crazy question! Of course he knew! 'Right here,' he replied, frowning. 'Asleep.'
'Oh God, if that were only true!' wailed Gay.
'I don't understand!'
'I can't tell you! I… I must show you.'
Tom took another deep swallow. What was this beautiful woman saying? If Jill wasn't here, where the hell had she been? He could only watch as Gay reached across the tiny purse she had brought with her, and pulled out a stack of what looked like Polaroid photographic prints.
