bemercinary? These were the temporary Gods, she thought, and it lay in their laps. Consequently, her husband was playing at adoring.
The sight sickened her, yet, what could she do? She had not gotten over the episode of the 'smashed' cocktails to this point, or even begun to try and fathom why he had flown into such a rage for her being in his study. Nothing made sense… especially her being here…
'Isn't that right, Darling?' Tonya Faro was addressing her.
'What's that?'
'I was just telling this handsome, talented husband of yours that a woman is worthless to her man unless she helps him further his career.' She smiled venomously. 'You see, Dear, that's what happened between Lydia and Jack Wellwood. Of course, you wouldn't know them, but they were very prominent in Rio Lado and the county… even the state. Jack had designs on the presidency of the University, and certainly would have made it had it not been for Lydia. She was so dull; so… so unimaginative.'
Dianne watched her sigh expressively. 'Poor Jack,' she went on. 'He's teaching now in some junior high school, I understand… divorced, of course… a rotten shame, don't you think, Dianne?'
'I didn't know them.'
'Yes… yes, of course… you didn't know them.'
A.C. Faro caused her to jump as he touched her hand with his own. 'Would you like another drink, Dianne?' he questioned.
He could see it, too, she thought, and for a moment her heart went out to this man who was so much older than his wife. It was almost as if they had something in common… conniving a method of holding on to the ones they loved. She smiled.
'Thanks… maybe, that wouldn't be such a bad idea, but let's change to bourbon and soda, please.'
'All right,' he said. 'I'll have one with you.'
Dianne found a cigarette and A.C. lit it. Actually, she felt as if she were once again in the midst of some kind of nightmare, and there was no way of dissolving it to extricate its cause. Mark had ignored her since cocktails, speaking no more than one or two words like a master would to his dog. This broad, handsome gentleman… one A.C. Faro, was extending himself to be gallant, and all she could think of was the unwritten unencroachable rules of the club. Dinner was long past and Tonya Faro was holding hands openly with her husband… Dear God, wasn't there yet some measure of mercy…?
'What say, you and I go to the bar for a drink?' A.C. whispered into her ear. 'I'm not saying it'll have any effect on those two lovebirds… but at least, we won't have to watch them.'
'I'd love it!' Dianne said, pushing back her chair and standing.
A.C. arose with her, neither paying the slightest attention to their companions, and then Dianne had caught his arm as they walked off, thinking that ought to shake Mark a little.
If it did, she had no way of knowing. He hadn't followed, nor suddenly, did she expect him. She had been thrust into this man's hands in the manner of the 'swap'… but thank God, A.C. seemed as unreceptive as she was to the forced arrangement. He seemed such a gentleman. They talked for a while about a wide variety of things as they drank until she could stand it no longer.
'I can't stand this!' she said suddenly. 'I wouldn't dare tell anyone else, but I know I can tell you. I saw it in your eyes there when they were holding hands. Now… please, listen, I've got to find him and take him home. He's my husband…! Mark's my husband…!'
'Yes,' A.C. replied. 'Of course, Dear.'
'It won't make any difference will it? I mean. Mark's election?'
'Well… the main thing is that you're happy.'
'Oh God… thank you,' she said, squeezing his hand. 'Thank you… Now, let me look…'
She hopped from the stool and moved rapidly back toward the dining room. She was convinced that she could persuade him to leave with her; if it was necessary she would imply that Mr. Faro wanted no part of this abhorrent escapade either. The man loved his wife and that was as obvious to her as daylight and darkness.
OH God, Mark, let's not make any takes than we already have!
She couldn't find them. She ran into the parking lot and saw their own car gone. Tears flooded down her cheeks. She wandered back inside, an emptiness gripping at her stomach. She found a secluded chair and wept awhile, then, tried to get hold of herself. She had to do something… at least, go home.
The open, balustraded stairway of the club loomed before her and she ascended it aimlessly to get away from the activity for a few minutes. She walked along a darkened, wide hallway with soft carpeting, her mind whirling in a maze of thoughts that she didn't want to remember. She couldn't think intelligently. At the end of the corridor she pushed through a doorway and suddenly found herself on the near-darkened sun-deck; she paused there and drew in a deep breath of warm night air.
God, she wished she had a cigarette. She'd left them somewhere down there… Oh, Mark, Mark… where are you?
'Yessss… yessss, Darling… lick it… lick it… Oh yes, lick it good!'
Dianne felt every muscle in her body tense, as if someone had clamped a block of ice to the back of her neck. She dare not breathe, and the words came to her, registering in her brain… It was a woman's voice, hissing the words in passion… She looked around, but could yet see nothing, only hear their movements and what sounded like wet, sluicing noises…
'Ohhhh… its beautiful, Darling… beautiful…'
Dianne gave a start as the door behind her opened and a man came out quietly. It was A.C. She turned away, embarrassed, and he came up behind her. She felt that she was about to speak when the feminine voice in a choked whisper begged: 'Ooooohhh oooohhhh… that's the way… suck it too… lick and suck, Darling…'
Faro placed his hands on her upper arms from behind, pressuring gently as if in signal to be quiet. She felt him move up close to her, then, he whispered: 'We have company.'
Dianne made a little nod of acknowledgment, a wave of shame for the unwary lovers, as well as the girl's vile language sweeping over her.
'They're over there,' Faro whispered into her ear. 'See…? On that chaise lounge…'
Dianne saw them then, partially illuminated in the light reflecting up from the parking area, and the faint half-moon. The girl lay with her back propped up, her dress bunched around her middle and her legs raised and drawn back, her thighs widely spread before the man whose head was lowered into her loins. He, too, was naked from the waist down, his buttocks and legs glistening, in the pale light.
My God, she couldn't believe the lewd sight! The girl had her hands in his hair and was writhing and twisting beneath him, as if she were trying to pull him deeper between her obscenely flayed thighs. Again, the wet sucking sounds drifted to her and she felt the warm blood pouring into her face. They were so engrossed in their vile performance that they hadn't heard either her, nor A.C., come out…
'Oooohhh… oooohhhhh, yes, Darling… like that… do it like that,' the girl whimpered, while Dianne stared as if hypnotized by the salacious sight and sound.
She was hardly conscious of A.C.'s arm moving around her waist and drawing her back against him, and then the other arm had crept around until she was completely encircled and she could feel his hot breath against her ear and cheek. But for some unknown reason, she didn't feel any resentment, or that he was trying to take advantage… He'd been a perfect gentleman, and a partner in shared misery, so as to speak: if anything, he was only offering her his strength to lean upon.
Then, it occurred to her what they were doing… standing there listening and watching the unknown couple's lewd act, and once more, shame swept through her. Was she losing all sense of decency, herself? She made a motion to release herself from A.C.'s embrace and felt his arms tighten around her.
'Shhh,' he whispered. 'That's Byron Acker, City Councilman, and Betty Rhodes. We don't want them to know they've been seen like this, damned embarrassing, you know…'
'Betty Rhodes…? You mean, Doctor Rhodes' wife?' Dianne questioned incredulously.
'The same, Honey… listen… he's sucking her cunt,' the big man hissed into her ear.
Every muscle in Dianne's soft, voluptuous body tensed and strained at his casual use of the foul word and descriptive phrase, the blood flushing into her cheeks hotly once more…
'Ooooohhhh… come up and fuck me now, Darling… my cunt's on fire,' Betty Rhodes gasped passionately, pulling him by the hair, trying to raise him up over her.
