isn't possible — or is it? — that Ralph with his dirty pictures and dirty newspaper has somehow managed to completely corrupt her husband? A week ago she wouldn't have thought so, but now, — with all she had seen and felt and experienced in the past few days she wasn't so sure that such a thing hadn't happened…
Sitting there, with her tormented thoughts she had the odd sinking feeling that her perfect well-ordered little world was about to come crashing down around her ears. Everything was too jovial tonight, for example, too gay and happy — as if it was the proverbial calm before the storm. She hoped against hope that she was wrong, that it was simply her guilt at her actions last night, her masturbation while looking at those filthy photographs, that was making her feel so morbid and depressed.
She hadn't had a good day at all, feeling low, morose, and Howard calling to tell her about the party tonight here at The Gandydancer hadn't helped matters any. She was going through an emotional upheaval, and the last thing she wanted to do was go out dining and dancing. But his arguments had seemed so reasonable and sincere that she had at last acquiesced; now, with the Taylors making snide, pointed remarks, she wished to God that she hadn't.
The distraught young wife reached out and picked up her champagne glass, an almost reflexive movement for she needed something at the moment to still the torment which raged inside her. She drank the effervescent liquid in a single swallow, amid half-heard comments of encouragement from the others present; the warmth of the wine settled in her stomach, making her feel glowingly flushed for a moment. Then she moistened her lips as Howard poured her another glassful, blinking at the smiling faces of Ralph and Norma.
'Now Cindy's joining in,' Ralph said to Howard. 'Look at her sitting there, pretty as a photograph.'
'And an intimate one at that,' agreed Norma, laughing.
Cindy groped for her refilled glass, drained that too. Then she stood abruptly, looking at Norma, at the woman she had considered a good friend. Norma was no better than Ralph. The young wife had no one to turn to, no one who would understand, not even Howard it seemed, not even her husband… She spun on her heel, hurrying off through the tables toward the restroom, her yellow, full-skirted cocktail dress rustling as she moved. Tears stung her flaming cheeks.
The other three at the table looked at one another, and Norma stood immediately, straightening her expensive party gown in lime green. 'I'll go to her,' she said to Howard, smiling, and hurried off after the departing Cindy.
When she was gone, Ralph leaned across the table almost conspiratorially. 'She'll be all right, Howie boy,' he said. 'It just takes a little time for a woman to get used to the idea of change. Once she accepts it as inevitable, she'll be just like Norma.'
'I hope so,' said Howard, who had been having a moment of compassion for his beautiful young wife. He felt a little uncertain now about what he was doing, about the effect of his actions on the innocent Cindy; in spite of every thing, he still loved her deeply. In the back of his mind, too, was a small but persistent pang of guilt at his actions with Ralph's high-priced whore, Bonnie, the previous evening, his first excursion into marital infidelity.
Ralph, seeming to sense this hesitancy and indecision on his salesman's part, reached into the pocket of his dinner jacket and removed a small envelope. He leaned forward and pressed it into Howard's hand. 'Here are those additional pictures you asked me for today, Howie,' he said. 'Some real good ones showing all kinds of oral love, just like you wanted.'
Howard looked down at the envelope, then picked up his champagne glass and drank deeply. 'T-thanks, Ralph,' he managed.
'Not at all, my boy,' Ralph said. 'Anything I can do, you just let me know. Remember, I'm looking out for your happiness, son. Yours and Cindy's.'
'I know, Ralph, and I appreciate it. It's just that… well, it's not easy doing things this new way. Not at the first, I mean.'
'Sure, I know, Howie. But it's all worth the momentary upheaval in your life, you'll see.'
Howard nodded gratefully, sipping from his champagne again. He was becoming a little drunk now. He poured more, drank it down under the approving eye of Ralph. Yes, now he felt a little better. Cindy would come around, just as Ralph said she would; and when she did, they would have happiness neither of them had ever thought existed before. He was doing the right thing, all right, there could be no doubt of that.
Cindy — his beautiful, passionate, warm Cindy. He moistened his lips. She was better than that whore, Bonnie, any day of the week. Or she would be, once she learned the art of oral gratification. And she would learn — soon, soon. Tonight, maybe. Howard's prick gave an excited little dance in his trousers as he thought of what would happen when he got Cindy home later on.
Could he talk her into more picture-taking? Well, not in the mood she was in now. But if he could get her a little high — downright drunk would be even better — he could convince her that it would be all right to take more photos. And she would surely be responsive, for even though she hadn't been outwardly excited by the photos he had left for her to see the previous night (that was apparent by her actions today), she had to have had enough curiosity to open that envelope and see what was inside. That meant she had to possess, deep within her, curiosity as to other things as well; hers was an untapped resource, he reasoned, just waiting for the drilling to begin. He giggled inwardly at that image — the drilling — and knew that he was now more than a little bit drunk. But what the hell? He was a new man, wasn't he? He had to celebrate his new-found way of life, didn't he? Sure he did. And he had to celebrate Cindy's soon-to-be-emancipation — perhaps as soon, he told himself again, as tonight. She loved him and she wanted to please him, had always told him that; yes, by God, maybe tonight would be the night after all! In more ways than one…
A few moments passed while Howard continued to think of what would transpire later in the evening, how he would talk his lovely young wife into taking pictures with him of an erotic nature, how he would show her these new acquisitions from Ralph, how he would suggest oralism again and again until she submitted to his every whim. He was growing excited thinking about it, and he didn't know that Cindy and Norma had returned to the table until Norma said chidingly, 'Aren't you going to let Cindy have her chair back, Howie?'
'What?' he said, startled out of his reverie. 'Oh. Oh, sure, I'm sorry, honey,' he apologized to Cindy, taking her arm and guiding her to her chair.
'That's all right, Howie,' she said, and she seemed to be composed now.
He sat down, smiling at her, his eyes bright. 'More champagne, baby?'
'Yes,' his young wife replied. 'Yes, I think I will.'
As Cindy accepted another glass of the effervescent liquid, she reaffirmed in her mind what she had told herself in the Ladies' Room: even though she felt wretched and miserable, there was no use letting the others see her condition — especially Ralph and Norma. When Norma had come in and asked if she was all right, if she wanted to talk about what was bothering her, Cindy had answered that she was fine now — drying her eyes with a tissue and forcing a smile and that there wasn't anything to talk about, really. Norma had seemed to understand; they had washed up, chatting about something Cindy couldn't recall now, and then come out to the table again.
Determined to affect a calm exterior, not to show the turmoiled nature of her inner self Cindy had decided to have a few more glasses of champagne, just enough so that she became a little high — not so that she got drunk. That way, it would be easier to pretend that everything was all right, that nothing was troubling her; she might even, with a slight tipsiness, be able to join in the conversation that went around the table, might even be able to laugh at Ralph's sly innuendoes and comments and Norma's ready agreements to them.
She drained her fresh glass of champagne and extended it to Howard to be filled again, smiling, feeling already a little tight and missing completely the intensity in his dark eyes, the way he began to slur his own words, the smiling all-knowing endorsement of the Taylors as they exchanged glances across the table…
The rest of the evening, to Cindy, seemed to be a blur. She had vague remembrances of an endless succession of fresh bottles of champagne being brought to their table; of the four of them moving down to the lounge area; of dancing with Howard and pressing close to him, feeling the hardening bulge of his penis in his pants as he whispered intimate words in her ear; of Howard saying, in a pronounced slur, that it was time. 'He and the little woman wen' home to bed, yessir, time to take the bull by the horns an' bring her around you unnerstan' Ralph.'
The next thing she was fully cognizant of, after that, was sitting beside Howard in their car with the cold night air blowing in through the opened windows. Her tongue felt thick and fuzzy and her head light, airy; she licked her lips experimentally, and then leaned against her husband's shoulder.
'Howie, where are we going?'
