wanton stroking of her own body.
Quickly, she stepped inside the glass shower-stall. What she needed was a cold spray to lower her temperature… No! No, what she needed was a gentle and understanding husband who would make warm, passionate love to her and truly consummate their marriage…! Oh God, what had she done?
Phillip… Mark… Mark!
Finally, she wept, even as the shower sprayed against her upturned face and her brain filled uncontrollably with memories she could no longer surprise…
Carrying their blessings, Dianne Lovell had left her parents' home in Concord, New Hampshire to join her fiance with all intentions of marrying him immediately. Phillip Gates was twenty-five, tall, brainy, and delicately handsome. They had known each other a lifetime, were childhood sweethearts, and now he was studying law at the University of Rio Lado with two years left to finish; they hadn't wanted to wait.
When she'd arrived, there had been no one to meet her. Frightened in the strangeness of the bigger city, and three-thousand miles from home, she had nervously taken a cab to the address she knew by heart from writing it on Phillip's letters, only to learn from his landlady that he was in the hospital and had just undergone surgery for a collapsed lung.
Of course, she'd found him, but it would be weeks, maybe months, before he was on his feet once more. Phillip had been so happy to see her, and she him; yet, it wasn't long before his good, levelheaded reasoning had taken command. He'd insisted she go back home until he was well again, then, he would send her the money to return, but she wouldn't hear of it. She would get a job and stay right there with him, even help nurse him during his convalescence, until he was well enough for them to be married.
She hadn't been at all worried about finding employment having had three years experience as a legal secretary to an attorney in Concord, and had quickly located a position with Coleman, Wright amp; Davison through a placement bureau. From the beginning, she had been in love with the job. Although she was the legal for all three gentlemen, she was the personal secretary of Mark Coleman… and shortly she found that she was nourishing an unwanted secret infatuation for him.
The mere thought of her childish, rattle-headedness nauseated her. That was when she was alone, or with Phillip. When she was within view or earshot of Mark Coleman, she was a love-struck girl. She couldn't help it. Just the sight of his tall, handsome physique, his dashing smile, his keen laughing dark-eyes, sent tingles through her whole being. She found herself wearing special things she thought he would like, choosing her perfumes with him in mind, arranging her hair a particular way because he had once told her it looked becoming. Yet, weeks dragged by and their relationship took no decisive course other than professional. Factually, she had not known what she would have done if it had; she'd been that frustrated.
Phillip had left the hospital and was recuperating beautifully. He was back in his apartment, attending a few classes, and in the evenings they took long walks together. She'd found a place only five blocks from his with an understanding landlady who allowed her to prepare dinner for the two of them, as long as he left before midnight. Sometimes, they went to a movie or play, but more often Phillip left early to study. It was during that period Dianne had felt their association straining, while her dreams were filled with the face of Mark Coleman, and her frustrations grew proportionately inside her.
Then, abruptly, she saw less and less of her employer. He had entered the political race for state senator, a challenge which seemed to take up a great deal of his time. She found herself hating it because it kept her from seeing him, and accordingly, she grew irritable, an emotion she subconsciously took out on those around her… especially Phillip.
'What is it, Honey?' he put to her one night at her place. They had just finished a light meal she'd prepared and had fallen into a senseless argument over the quality of different brands of wine. 'I mean… no matter what I say anymore… you're right down my throat.'
'It's not that at all, Phillip, and you know it,' she'd snapped. 'It's, it's simply that you think you know so damned much. Since when have you been a wine connoisseur?'
He smiled, she remembered… smiled in that inimitable touching way of his. 'You're haggling pennies, Dianne… holding back the dollars and haggling pennies. Can't you tell me…? Maybe I can help…'
'Oh, for cripes sake, Phillip,' she'd countered almost disgustedly, getting up, going to the kitchenette and picking the dishes up from the table. 'And… and you're building mountains again. God, you'd almost think we were married.'
He'd stood and came into the kitchen. 'I think we should be… and right away.'
'Wh-what?' She had stared at him, the dreaded words she'd anticipated for weeks… yes, months, ricocheting in her brain… words she had not wanted to hear, or had she…?
'I mean it, Dianne,' he said, coming close and slipping his arms around her waist, drawing her against him. 'I want us to be married right away… this very week…'
'This week!' she'd exclaimed, forcing a smile. 'Well… you don't give a girl much… much of a chance do you…?'
But he hadn't smiled. 'Much chance for what, Dianne?' he questioned levelly.
'I… ah…' she stammered, laughing and pushing free. 'You… you just took me by surprise, Phillip. I mean… you've been so ill and everything…'
'And everything,' he repeated. 'The secret word… everything.' He had turned away from her, then, swung back, his slender face drawn grimly. 'What're you trying to say, Dianne? You don't want to marry me? Is that it? Well…?'
For one long, solid moment she had stood as if frozen, debating whether to tell him all… the truth… the whole bit… then: 'Listen to me, Phil, I've got a problem…'
'You mean, a man?'
'I mean, a problem!'
'Nicely put.'
'Better now than later, isn't it?' she had snapped at him.
'What's his name?'
'There is no name,' she lied. 'It's a problem and I must solve it, first.'
He had shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and walked with slumped shoulders back into the front room… she could see him now. My God, how forlorn he had appeared. Then, he had turned to her, raised his head and said: 'One question, Dianne… do you still love me?'
What could she say? What could she say? 'Of course, I love you…' And then, she had gone to him, her eyes brimming with tears, and they had kissed, kissed, kissed… falling back onto the davenport… God, it had nearly happened, it had been that close… and now as she thought about it, perhaps she had wanted it to… known deep in her heart that it was the only thing that could bring her to her senses.
She had felt his warm, wet kisses all the way to her very soul, expressions of physical love her body had craved so desirously in her dreams. She had closed her eyes and offered herself, her being suddenly enflamed with mounting tongues of lashing excitement surging through her… as if all of her frustrations had been unleashed within her at once. She wanted to laugh and cry, pity and love; her warm, soft, passionate body vibrated with its overflow of sensations.
In all the years of their courtship they had never gone all the way; somehow, she would gain control of herself and the situation, holding him back, pacifying him with semi-intimate caresses and promises, begging him to help her bring her virginity to their marriage bed, but this time she sensed even her own self-influence waning fast… His hand was beneath her blouse on her breasts outside her bra… and then he had unfastened it and was massaging the exposed firm, full spheres into maddening hardness. She gasped as he took one of the nipples into his mouth, sucking gently, his playing tongue driving her near out of her mind… blinding her even to the touch of his excited, warm hand slipping upward beneath her skirt caressingly, between her creamy white thighs.
'Oh, Phillip… Darling… no, no… we mustn't,' she breathed hotly down into his face kissing and sucking at her breast, while her arms embraced his head tightly to her.
But it was as if she hadn't spoken and his hands continued to fondle and graze her tingling flesh, exploring the full length of her soft, smooth body, roving over her flat white belly and downward to the nylon concealed suppleness of her pubic mound. He touched her there gently, his strong sensitive fingers stroking and fondling, until she was aware that he had slipped his middle finger inside the leg band of her white nylon panties and into the moist, virginal slit of her vagina. Again, she had gasped aloud as never-before electric-like sensations surged
