Sylvie followed, feeling lost and alone. When Arlene came up beside her, Sylvie turned to her cousin. "Oh, Arlene," she said, tearfully,
"never, never marry a politician. Your husband is never truly yours… he belongs to those others…" she gestured up ahead toward the moving crowd, centered by Tim Cassidy.
Arlene, still thrilling to her sacred moments alone with Tim on the terrace, growled back at Sylvie in a much nastier tone than she had meant to use, "It's your fault, Sylvie… Tim is a very special man … and frankly, you don't act like you deserve him!!"
Sylvie stood stock still as her cousin moved hurriedly away from her, after the disappearing crowd. Her mouth hung open in surprise at the bitterness of her cousin's attack, and then closed when she realized that someone might be watching her.
Quickly, she headed toward the side door where she knew the limousines were waiting. She took the last one in the line, and ordered the startled driver to take her back to the hotel immediately. As the car pulled away, Sylvie looked out the window. She could see Tim and the others emerging from the meeting hall via the back entrance. To her alarm, she saw that there were two young college girls who worked for the organization clinging to Tim's arms, and he was laughing his characteristic laugh and smiling down at them.
Sylvie plunged back into the dark seat, her eyes overflowing with tears and her blood seething with rage.
"I just can't take it anymore!" she said out loud.
"Did you say something, Mrs. Cassidy?" the chauffeur inquired, and Sylvie replied a terse, "no!" and pushed the button that rolled up the glass panel between the driver's seat and the passenger seat.
The hotel suite was opulent, but Sylvie found no pleasure in the baroque furnishings or the thickly carpeted floors. She had seen a thousand hotel rooms like these, and was due to see a thousand more before her husband reached the White House, after he won his seat in the Senate. How many more years would it all take, and how old would she be when all the goals had been reached. More important, how old would she feel?
Sylvie lay crying upon the large double bed that she was certain would not be the scene of the intimacy she sought with her husband. Heaven only knew when he would get back to the hotel room, and by that time Sylvie thought she might have gone so far as to do away with herself.
But suicide was not the answer, Sylvie knew that much as, still sobbing, she peered into the large bathroom mirror. Even her cousin, Arlene had turned on her, but still she would not commit that final profanity.
The phone rang jolting her back to the other room. Her hopes rose as she thought it might be Tim, wondering where she was and hoping that she would join him. Perhaps something could be salvaged of the mess she was in after all.
"Hi, Doll… It's me, your gorgeous brother-in-law. Your husband, the Senator, asked me to call. Wants to know where the hell you are?"
"I… I…" Sylvie stammered.
"Well, I'll tell him you have a headache or something… obviously you're at the hotel. He won't be along for a while… there are a few people here… a couple of girls… some of the prettier sort, and …"
Sylvie threw the telephone down onto the receiver, only to hear it ring again.
"You shouldn't ever hang up on a Cassidy, Sylvie," Erick's voice droned. "You need something to soothe your nerves? Want me to drop by??"
Sylvie suddenly screamed into the phone, "Yes!Yes!!! Come by… come right now if you don't want to miss the show…it'll be a good show I can promise you that!!!" She hung up and ran into the bathroom, where she began to fling off her clothing.
Tim and Ron were locked in conversation with their host, the Mayor.
"Sylvie says she'll wait for you at the hotel Tim," Erick declared.
"Okay, fine…" Tim replied, "nothing for her to do here anyway." He was a little annoyed that Arlene was still hanging around, but said nothing since the young brunette sat in a corner going over the coming schedules for the next few weeks, and did nothing to bother him.
Tim turned to talk to the mayor, and Erick started to slip out. "Hey, where you going?" Ron asked, standing and going over to his younger brother.
Erick thought a second and then said to his brother, "Don't bother Tim with this, but I think Sylvie is flipping at the hotel. I'm hotfooting it over to see what's wrong."
"Why don't you send Arlene?" Ron asked, nodding toward the seated woman who was looking at them curiously. He then thought better of it, "No … you'd better go… I want to know all about it, whatever it is we've got to get her straightened out in a hurry, can't have her going around win a face a mile long, screwing everything up!"
"Yeah… that's what I thought," Erick replied, hurriedly leaving the room.
Arlene looked up as the younger brother left, she began to fume as she surmised that he was going to meet her cousin Sylvie at the hotel!
An angry and totally deranged Sylvie flung the door open as Erick knocked. Shocked by her appearance, Erick hesitated at first at the door, but Sylvie motioned him in dramatically.
"Come on in Cassidy… don't miss the show!"
Erick would have had difficulty recognizing Sylvie had he not known for a fact that the woman facing him was his brother's wife. She had done something dreadful to her hair that made it stand up in teased puffs around her head, and the powder rouge and lipstick on her face seemed to be an inch thick at least. She wore long false eyelashes that made her look like a female impersonator, and it was clear that she had tried to make herself appear as cheap and tawdry as possible.
She wore a flowing pink negligee which might have appeared tastefully pink under ordinary circumstances, but which only looked as cheap and garish as the make-up she had applied.
She motioned Erick to a chair, and began to "perform" for him, her lips curling sarcastically as she began to mouth the ugly phrases that her distraught mind conjured up.
Erick flicked the "on" button of the small, expensive recording machine he held in his pocket.
"Now you bastard… you wanted it… and here it is!" Lewdly, Sylvie began to do bumps and grinds around the room, and from the way her filmy negligee separated as she moved, Erick could see that his disturbed sister-in-law was completely naked underneath. The creamy smoothness of her legs appeared and disappeared as she slid and whirled, shook her hips and jiggled her breasts to an imaginary tune in her head.
"I… want a girl… ju… like… the… girl… that… married dear old Dad!" she chanted, moving ever closer to her husband's brother. The normally sedate and cool young woman, so renowned for her poise in almost any situation, had finally let loose. And even though there weren't too many logical thoughts in Sylvie's head, she knew that this was something that she'd been wanting to do for a long time. An elation took hold of her as her acts grew more and more outrageous. She beamed proudly, her eyes glittering, watching the man who had been her tormentor as he sat staring at her antics.
With lewd, provocative motions, she reached under her gown, pulling the top clasp apart and baring her magnificently proud and full rippled breasts. Holding one in each hand, she shimmied her hips so that the blonde triangle of her willingly exposed cunt beckoned obscenely to the young man sitting in the chair.
Having gotten over his initial astonishment, Erick began to smile in an amused manner. He lifted his hands and clapped them together in applause.