"Oh, Nick!"
Nick stumbled from the bed and his legs nearly buckled beneath him. He leaned against the bedpost for support, and looked down at Holly. She was sleeping soundly, a smile on her lips, her body curled against itself.
Then she deepened the smile, sighed and twisted around so that her body faced. Nick, and her breasts heaved with the deep breath. He turned away and dragged himself into the living room and sat down beside the phone.
The snow fell steadily and everything outside the window was white and dull, and Nick shivered and thought of going back for his robe. But he picked up the phone and dialed Julie's number.
Nick tried to clear his thoughts, but he was drugged by the sessions with Holly, and he felt light-headed and slightly weak and cold. The phone rang several times and Nick had the horrible thought that Julie might be on her way over to his apartment.
Then Connors answered abruptly, and Nick had no idea what to say for a moment. He had the absurd thought that somehow Connors would be able to tell something was wrong.
"This is Nick," he said finally. "Bow are you tonight, sir?" And he realized that somehow his conversations with Connors always made him feel like an idiot.
"Good to hear from you, son," Connors boomed. "Julie and I were just talking about you. Good thing you called. I think she was getting a little restless about tonight."
"I see," Nick said and stared at the snow and shivered. "Well, the fact is, sir, that I was calling to tell her I probably can't see her this evening. I really do need to stay here and concentrate on the Dennison advertising campaign. I'm afraid I feel I'm getting a bit behind."
"She won't be happy to hear that, son," Connors said. "But I understand. Don't let me down on that. And by the way, Frances Dennison called me today. I told her things were progressing, of course. And she wanted to be able to get in touch with you, so I took the liberty of giving her your address and phone number. You know how she is Nick. You have to humor her."
Christ, said Nick to himself. "That's perfectly all right, sir," he said to Connors. "And now, could I speak to Julie?"
"She's right here, son," Connors said. "Practically tearing the phone out of my hands." There was a moment of silence. Then Julie said, "Oh Nickie, I don't believe you're going to work on that silly old lady's beer advertising," she said. "I'm afraid it's absolutely necessary, darling," he said. "Things are going slowly and I can't afford to get any further behind. Ask your father how important it is."
There was another silence. Then Julie said, very softly, "Daddy just left, Nickie. He has to go out. And the servants are out, also. Do you know what that means?"
"Julie, like you said, darling, it's just a short time until we're married," he said. "I've simply got to give priority to this Dennison thing. There are just a few days left. No matter how much I want to see you."
"Well, I'm going to talk to Daddy about this," she said. "He has no right to get you all busy and tied up right before our wedding."
"Look, I'll call you later," he said. "I've got to get back to work now."
"Okay, Nickie," she said. "But don't wait too long. And remember that I love you. Good night. For now."
"I love you too," he said. "And good night and I'll talk to you later." Nick hung up and went over and poured a drink and gulped it down. The chill of the room permeated his body, and he took another drink and stared at the heavy snowfall.
He told himself he would call Julie later, but for now he cared for nothing but getting back into bed and snuggling up against the girl with the smooth, golden, feverish body.
CHAPTER NINE
Nick listened to the phone ring, and he thought it would never stop. And then there was silence and he turned away, but it started ringing again. He cursed and stared at the phone as though it would attack him. Then, finally, there was silence.
Nick crossed over to the desk and sat down and sipped the hot, steaming coffee. He sat on the edge of the chair, his body tight, and he fully expected the phone to start ringing again.
He told himself he was being childish to huddle isolated in his apartment, as he had for the past three days. Yet, he could not face anyone. Not the office, not Connors and certainly not Julie. He knew his career and his marriage and his future were flowing steadily down the drain, and he could not function and he could not face people and have to apologize and explain and be criticized.
He took a sip of coffee and then put the cup down and picked up his pen, and he printed HOLLY on the paper. Holly, he muttered, and drank the coffee again, and relaxed back in the chair.
Holly had ruined him, he knew. Yet he could not blame her. He could only blame his weakness. Somehow, several days ago, he had lost control of things. He had lost himself to her luscious copper-toned, insatiable body. And time had been suspended since then, time and work and responsibility.
And the strange thing, he had to remind himself, was that his obsession with Holly had now extended beyond her body and her ability in bed. He simply enjoyed being with her he felt warm and alive when she was in the room. And she had completely taken over the apartment in so short a time and insisted on cooking and cleaning and doing errands.
Nick sighed and stood up and walked over and flicked on the radio. The music was soft and gentle and seemed to blend with the mood of removal that the snow packed up against the windows enforced.
Nick mixed a drink and took a swallow and thought of the beer account. It seemed an eternity ago that he had been confident in his ability to do the job in only a few days. And what was worse was that Holly now insisted on leaving him alone several hours a day so that he could do his work. But he had accomplished exactly nothing. He would sit a few minutes and then think of the blue eyes and blond hair and the damp, puffed lips and the golden body.
Suddenly, a loud grating commercial burst on the radio, and Nick flicked it off. He drained the drink and put the glass down and turned to the window. The snow had stopped again but the sky was grey and grey hovered about the buildings, and the few trees he could see looked pitiful with their stark, bare black branches whipped helplessly by the wind.
Nick asked himself how he could have thrown away all he had for a seventeen-year-old girl. He had thrown it away and trampled on it. And now he was immobilized because Holly was out buying clothes. He felt he could not function until she returned. Yet, when she returned, he would function in only one way, he told himself grimly, and it would not help anything.
He doubled his hands into fists and slammed them together so hard that the pain made him gasp. Then he turned from the window and hurried into the bedroom. He put on his coat and scarf and gloves and hat and left the apartment.
The day was raw and windy and bitterly cold, and the weather struck Nick harder because he had been in his apartment for so long. He walked out to the street and huddled in his coat and looked up and down for a cab.
The wind swirled snow up and Nick stomped up and down to keep warm. He felt somehow emaciated after the hours in bed with Holly, and being outside seemed strange after the three days in the apartment.
But he knew he had to do something, break from his lethargic, sex-ridden existence, or he would ruin everything. He glanced down the street and felt the wind and cursed. It had been difficult making the sudden decision to go to Julie. If a cab didn't come soon, he might lose his nerve. And he knew this was absolutely the last chance to salvage everything he thought was important.
He looked up and saw a taxi and waved his hands frantically. The cab pulled over in a wide are that sprayed snow and wet his pants from the knees down.