I snorted. “You doing the raping would be more like it, if you ask me.”
“Nobody asked you,” she hissed, glaring, hands on her nubile hips. “What were you doing last night, singing in the church choir?”
I rasped something neither of us could understand and she marched out of the room. In a minute I could hear her making noises in the kitchen, so I pulled on a shirt and a comfortable old pair of slacks. Old loafers were kind to my feet, too, and they slapped as I shuffled down the hall. In the kitchen I sat at the table by the window and looked out into the back yard, where the pool shimmered like a turquoise jewel.
It brought the memories all over again. Could it really have happened? Could Buddy Pipp have banged my wife against the side? Could he have blown her shortly before as she sat and tugged on his hair? Could I have hung like a devilish Christ from the cross, suspended from a diving board while Trudy Pipp sucked my brain cavity clean?
Scowling, I turned away and watched her at the stove, where she stood with a hissing frying pan in her hand, and the rich smell of bacon and eggs wafted to my nostrils. She had a dandy shape, all right, and I was a fool for allowing anyone else to play around with it.
She caught me looking, having turned while I was dreaming. “Well?”
“Just staring, that's all.”
“Staring at what?”
“Your ass, if you must know.”
“Horny old goat.”-
“Guilty, your honor.”
She put a steaming plate before me and sat down across the table, We ate in silence for ten minutes and I discovered I had the appetite of a squad of Marines and the more I ate the more I wanted. Amy gave me seconds all around and I must have had a quart of coffee.
Later we lighted up and sat back with deep sighs. “You're refueling,” she murmured, nodding at my clean plate.
“Looks that way. Old men aren't accustomed to such strenuous exercise.”
Her eyes were dead serious as she leaned forward, staring into my face. “Don, tell me how you really feel. Was last night as awful as I remember?”
I nodded. “Worse. I'd hate to see the replay on tape, coach.”
She shuddered, dragging on her cigarette, letting the smoke curl into her nostrils and then exhaling to one side. “We can't let that happen again.”
“No. Never. It was a bad scene, Amy. Bad all the way through. It could lead to even worse events.”
“What on earth could be worse?”
I fixed her with a steely gaze. “We could get hooked on that sort of fun. Plenty of couples have and they wind up in divorce court or making an arrangement.”
“They sleep with everybody except each other?”
“You got it, baby. That's not going to happen to us. You're all hot to get yourself pregnant and that's just dandy, but I don't need any help from any teen-age giant.”
“But that isn't why I…”
“I know,” I interrupted, my voice gruff, “but we've got each other and that's enough. We're finished with screwing around with those kids. Is that clear?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “What about Alexander? Suppose he needs a sitter.”
“We'll get a little old lady… or better yet a little old man.”
We smoked quietly after that, each lost in our own thoughts, and so it was for the remainder of the morning. I decided to get some work done in the den, instead of running down to the office, and Amy went into the yard where I could hear her snipping roses.
While I was in the middle of balancing the accounts for the Peerless Lumber Company, the phone rang and it was Sam. He was working too, and he asked me several questions about the business. When that was cleared up he got down to the monkey business.
“You remember that little matter I brought up last night?” His voice was wary, as though he were afraid I'd explode all over the place.
“It's not easy to forget.”
“Did you talk it over with Amy?”
“I told her what you had on your mind. She's not too bright about that sort of fooling around, you know.” This was a test line I'd tossed out to see if he bit on it. He might know better than I how much Amy had fooled around. But he didn't tumble and I felt better, still hoping that my wife had gone bad only in the past twenty-four hours.
“What's your decision?”
Clearing my throat, I took on a senatorial tone. “We are not interested in your proposal at this time.”
“Then you're not closing the door altogether.”
“Well, that remains to be seen.” I wasn't being as strong as I'd sounded in my earlier morality lecture to Amy. “The situation is in doubt.”
His sigh came over the wires. “All right, partner, but you know where we are. Christ, that Alice keeps after me to find her some fresh meat. Can you beat that? The woman thinks I'm impotent and she rubs it in by wanting me to fix her up with our friends. A bitter pill, I can tell you.”
“Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you impotent?”
“Hell, no. Just because I can't pop my rocks every-time she'd like, she thinks I'm losing my steam. It's just too many years with the same old pair of legs, if you get my point. She's impotent enough around me, as far as that goes. We both need something new. Outside experience.”
“Good luck.”
“But not with you.”
“Not at this time.”
His sigh came just before he hung up and I stared at the instrument for several minutes. Was I getting hooked on sex outside the home? Why didn't I flatly tell him no, instead of horsing around with words? Not only was I interested in sexing it up with a flying bomb like Trudy, but now I was seriously considering trade-sies with Sam and Alice. Jesus, the next thing we knew I'd be propositioning the meter maids around the office downtown.
Come to think of it, there was one sergeant whose ass stuck out real fine when she was on the saddle of her motor bike, Shaking my head, I tossed my work aside and left the desk. Concentration was impossible with such erotic thoughts buzzing around in my head.
That afternoon we climbed into our bathing suits and settled around the pool, reading, having a drink, nibbling on something light and not fattening. I kept stealing glances over the top of my book at Amy, who was looking tremendous in a red bikini.
The thing set off her skin in spectacular fashion, accenting her golden tones and bringing out a chestnut sheen in her hair. She was lying on her stomach on the warm concrete, reading a woman's magazine, her feet idly dangling above her thighs, swaying back and forth. I could see her head-on, looking down into her bra, seeing the deep division between her breasts and the angle that accented the curve of her bottom.
It was quite a sight.
“You're looking at me.”
“You bet your sweet one I am,” I said, my voice gruff. “In that outfit you offer the best excuse I know for not playing around with anyone else.”
“You're loaded too, partner.” She pointed.
I looked down at my crotch, where things had been happening without my knowing. I'd come back to life, ready for more action, my snake uncoiled and pushing against my suit so that I carried a full sack of marbles in plain view.
“I'll be damned. It must have been the vitamins in that hearty breakfast,” I exclaimed.
“Whatever it was, it's catching.”
“You feel it, too?”
She curved her lips, her dazzling teeth breaking into view in the sunlight. “I think we can keep each other happy without resorting to outside agitators, don't you?”
I got up and hobbled to her side, dropping to my knees and running my hands over her back, masseur fashion. “You bet we can, honey, starting right now.”
“Go, brother. Go, sister. Everybody go.”
Working slowly, I kneaded her back, loving the feel of the sun-baked skin. It had a clean yet slightly oily scent and I could feel it loosen as her muscles relaxed under my insistent fingertips. I did a lazy and thorough job, working from her neck to the low-slung band of her bikini, not missing a muscle or a rib all the way.