Finally, drained and hollow, she stepped under the hot shower in an attempt to wash off the filth she felt was covering her. Then, still feeling fouled inside, she pulled on her wet bathing suit, shut off the shower, and headed back toward the pool. Maybe in the cool salt water, she would be able to wash away the last traces of her shame. Ignoring the insolent stares of the two lifeguards, she tossed her towel aside and plunged into the water. She had drifted across, to the other side of the pool without taking a stroke. Suddenly Jerry appeared beside her.
"Hey, hi, wife," he said.
"Hi – darling," she answered, the word sticking in her throat. "How was it?"
Jerry restrained a guilty start at the question. "The sail? Oh, all right. We got becalmed and had to be towed in."
"That's nice," Sue replied, not really having heard him.
"Let's try put the diving boards," Jerry suggested.
Sue glanced in that direction and shivered. Carl Randall was in the lifeguard chair on the big platform next to the diving boards.
"You go ahead," she answered. "I'm a little cold. I think I'll get dressed. See you later."
Jerry stared after her, hot puzzled and relieved. Evidently something was bothering her. But it couldn't possibly be that she knew what had gone on between him and Cindy Peters. Whatever it was, Sue was so distracted by it he didn't need to worry about her noticing anything different about him. He splashed toward the boards, his relief blotting out any thought about what Sue's trouble might be.
Miserably, Sue picked up her towel and retreated. How could she face her husband? God how could she ever face him? She tried to tell herself he deserved it for having ignored her for so long, but her misery and guilt wouldn't let her rationalize. She had willingly been unfaithful to the only man she had ever loved in her life. She sure she was going to be able to live with herself.
CHAPTER THREE
Jerry strode down the carpeted hall toward his office. The sick, sour knot in his guts had not been caused by the lunch he had just consumed. It was disgust with himself that was making his guts ache. In the week since the sailing episode, guilt had been gnawing at him like an evil worm. And today, at lunch, the sight of the leggy young waitresses in their ultra-short skirts and tight white blouses had actually given him a hard-on. He had admired the girls at his usual restaurant before, but never with such a rutting, instinctive reaction as today. He was disgusted with himself.
He noted that his secretary's desk was unoccupied. It was not unusual at lunch hour. One of the other girls in the office would be covering the telephone. The elegant wood-grained door opened silently, the expensive bronze latch barely whispering when he turned the knob.
He froze in the doorway, stunned to see someone in his chair. Then he relaxed, recognizing his secretary's short, stylish, jet-black curls. Swiveled around with her back to the door, she was tilted back and had her feet on the bookcase as she talked on the phone. Languidly, she twisted the cord around one finger as she talked.
Something about her pose reminded Jerry of his daughter's telephone style.
For a moment, Jerry debated what to do. He didn't mind her using his phone for what was obviously a personal call. Diane Carter was the best secretary he had ever had. He was certain she had a very good reason to want privacy. His sense of fair play battled with curiosity as he fought the urge to eavesdrop. For a moment he debated leaving until she was done, but decided against it. He had an important meeting in an hour that he had to prepare for.
Quietly, he closed the door behind him, knowing it wouldn't do for other secretaries to get the idea they could do what Diane was doing. Then, deliberately trying not to disturb her, he went to his desk and started to reach for the papers he needed.
Then he saw the long, graceful expanse of leg she was showing. Her skirt had slid way up her thigh. His pulse hammered. He was standing behind her, looking down on her from above. He had never realized her breasts thrust out so far. Diane's tallness gave a false impression of slenderness.
Jerry fought down the urge to stroke her hair tenderly. Suddenly his body was hot with desire, making him angry with himself, and with Diane. His lips tight with anger, he picked up the papers he needed and went over to the couch along one wall. Sitting down, he put his feet up on the law table in front of the couch and tried to concentrate.
But his gaze kept drifting over to Diane. She was talking softly, her voice barely audible over the soft rush of the air-conditioning. He couldn't actually hear what she was saying, but something about the tilt of her head and the languid motions of her hand gave him the impression it was a romantic call. Her legs were squirming slightly, making her thighs press and rub against each other sensuously. Jerry didn't need a lesson in body language to appreciate the sexual aspect of her moves.
His own horniness increased by leaps and bounds as he surreptitiously studied his pretty secretary. From this angle, not quite a profile view of her, her legs were more attractive and exciting than ever. He played a mental guessing game as to whether she was wearing a bra or not. The soft material of her blouse was molded to the exciting perfect roundness of her breasts. Was that the sharp point of an excited nipple, or was it just the cut of her blouse? He wasn't sure. If she wasn't wearing a bra, she had one fine pair of tits, full and firm and lush.
His hard-on back, Jerry shifted uncomfortably on the couch. Diane emitted a soft, throaty, sexy laugh, and Jerry felt a surge of jealousy toward whoever she was talking with. Then, furious with himself, without thinking, he flung the papers onto the table.
They landed with a sharp smack. Diane whipped around, shocked. Seeing him, glowering angrily as he slouched on the couch, she naturally assumed that he was furious with her for using his office. Blushing furiously, she stammered apologies into the receiver and quickly hung up.
When she swung the swivel chair around Jerry got an unobstructed view of her skirt. He saw her sleek thigh, the top of her stockings, even a tantalizing flash of panties and one of her garter straps. Jerry's lust had soared, and right along with it, his disgust with himself. He glowered at the toes of his well-polished shoes, and jammed his hands down in his pockets. He was trying to disguise the bulge of his erection, an erection that made him even angrier with himself. He wondered just why he had been created so damn big down there.
"I'm awful sorry, Mr. Anderson," Diane apologized desperately, standing up and letting her skirt fell back into place. "I didn't expect you back so soon. I – this is the fist time I've ever used your office like this, and…"
Jerry tried not to look at her, knowing his eyes would get him into trouble if he did. He hadn't even hired her for her looks. In fact, if she hadn't been so damn well qualified, he probably wouldn't have hired her, just because she was so pretty. Now he a wishing be hadn't hired her.
"That's all right," he said gruffly.
"It's just that this guy I've been dating called, even though I told him not to call me at work," Diane rushed on. "I haven't been dating him long, and I'm kind of anxious, I guess. I didn't want to discourage him. It won't happen again."
Jerry had the feeling that this "boy" was rather special to Diane, and felt another irrational surge of jealousy. "I said it's all right," he repeated, more sharply than he meant to.
"Oh." Diane was subdued and concerned, and her blue eyes clouded with worry.
Jerry still didn't dare look at her, and continued glaring morosely at his shoes. "I'm sorry. I'm just in a rotten mood. It's nothing to do with you."
Diane took a deep breath, came around the table and sat down next to him on the couch. "Something awful happened an your day off last week, didn't it?"