"Are you sure you're all right?" she repeated. After assuring her, they went out again into the garden, and Leslie outlined the work to be done, explaining that the job was to be a surprise for her sister, Lila, who was on vacation in Europe. As Leslie talked, Bob's earlier belief that this job would be a turning point for him was reinforced by the casually dropped indications that the Lansings were one of the old families of Providence, and hence had many other wealthy connections, and also by the generous financial payment which Leslie proposed for the work.
They agreed that Bob should commence work the very next day, and he left the mansion elated with his good fortune and brimming with self-confidence. He whistled as he wound around the narrow country road, but in the back of his mind, he kept thinking guiltily of Julie, his wife. Not that he had done anything to feel guilty about. But he'd thought plenty. He wished that things were better between him and Julie, but he didn't know what to do to make them better. He kept going back over the early days in his mind, in hopes of finding some clue. There, and now on his way home, he relived it all again, remembering how, after high school, he had enlisted in the Army and travelled in America and Europe only to come back to Providence after his discharge. It was on the very day of his arrival home that he had first seen Julie Lamont. Of course, he'd vaguely remembered a little red-haired, snub-nosed girl from years ago, whose father rented out all the apartments in the slum where he lived, but this Julie was different. She had a mane of chestnut hair that on any other girl of her petite dimensions would have seemed ridiculous. But not on Julie! It was just a crown to top off the perfect assembly of her voluptuous body. She had stared at Bob that first day, her piercing blue eyes cutting into him until he turned to rubber. Then she had looked past him and walked haughtily on. He swore then that no matter what, he'd have Julie Lamont if it was the last thing he did.
As he drove, he thought about the grim three years following his discharge. An endless stream of ego-wrecking jobs with no prospects and low pay. The bright spot had been an old gardener, who had taken a liking to him when they were both working for the same hotel, Bob as a waiter, and who used to talk to him about planting and sowing and reaping. That had started the seed of interest in Bob but the old man suddenly died, leaving an empty spot in Bob's life.
He remembered now how the memory of stand-offish, sensuous Julie had never left him, and it seemed like a miracle when he'd managed eventually to land a job as mail boy in the company where she worked as a receptionist.
By sheer determination he got first one date with her, and incredibly, another and another.
He slowed the Buick down, smiling a little as he recalled how happy and proud he'd felt when she'd timidly admitted to being in love with him and wanting to marry him.
"If only I'd known what I was getting into!" he snarled, the hitherto calming effect of the Scotch giving way to a latent resentment which had been simmering deep inside him for months.
"Frigid little bitch!" he thought, thinking of the contrast between the apparent sensuality of his wife's appearance and the actual prudishness of her nature. His face boiled with rage as image after image of her timid responses flicked through his brain, each session of lovemaking terminating in a cold, unfulfilling letdown for him.
I bet that rich bitch Leslie knows how a woman should treat a man! he thought, picturing the young girl's ripe, upswept breasts as he had glimpsed them from the neckline of her blouse. A wave of pleasure throbbed through him.
But then his thoughts, softening, returned to Julie. He had to admit he was still in love with her. He was still attracted by the creamy, ivory-like proportions of his wife's body. She only had to look at him in a certain way and he was ready and willing to make love to her on the spot. All the humiliation of his attempts to experiment with her would be forgotten if she would only open up and love him completely, like that first time! He recalled again, savoring each moment, the one time, just before their marriage, when Julie had really let loose, and shown him the volcano that was buried inside her.
They had been at a party for a friend of Julie's, a few months before their marriage, and the champagne was flowing freely. Bob had felt out of place among Julie's friends, but in the flush of love, was anxious to please her. So he had consented to go. However, he spent most of the evening drinking glass after glass of champagne alone in a corner. He was busy watching Julie, who unlike her usual self under the influence of the champagne, was flitting about, and flirting. Bob became more sullen as he noticed that Julie was spending more and more time with a tall blond guy, whom he knew only as Frank, but who was a former boyfriend of Julie's.
Enraged, he watched as they went outside, and he was enveloped by a slow, seething anger when they returned, much later, both looking flushed. Before he couldn't bring himself to leave the sanctuary of his corner to follow them, but now, impelled by a furious rage, he dashed over to Julie, and grabbing her roughly by the arm, half-pulled her out of the house. She followed him meekly and sat silently beside him as he drove his old Chevy in the direction of the Forest Preserve. He parked in their favorite parking place, in a grove completely surrounded by trees, where no one else ever came. Angrily, he turned and faced her.
"You Goddamn little bitch!" he rasped. "Isn't one man enough for you? Or are you giving him something that you're not giving me?"
Julie looked frightened and cringed back against the door.
"Oh, Bob! We were only talking about old times! Honest!"
Her blue eyes were opened wide in terror and she was trembling. Her rabbit-like fear touched off the tremendous desire for her that was always lurking in him, and reaching over suddenly, he crushed his mouth down on hers in a hard, bruising kiss. She struggled violently, trying to escape his grasp, but he held her in a tight grip. Then, she sunk her teeth into his lower lip. The excruciating pain numbed his brain for a second, and he felt the salt-taste of his own blood. He drew back and then lashed his palm hard across her face. With a piteous cry she immediately cradled the reddening cheek in her hand. Tears sprung to her eyes and gushed unchecked down her face. Again, he ground his mouth down on hers, and at first her lips were soft and unresisting from the shock. But then she began to struggle again and Bob felt her body stiffen. He tightened his arms around her and drove his tongue into her mouth, forcing it forward against her resistance. Then he felt a shudder convulse her small body, and her struggles weakened. Unbelievably, her arms crept up around his neck, and her tongue began to play with his, chasing it around, trying to entwine with it. His hands darted over her breasts, reveling in their firmness. He had only touched them through her clothing once or twice. Eagerly he unzipped her summer dress and unhooked her bra. Then his hands raced around again and cupped the lovely swellings of her breasts. He was actually touching them! He could feel her nipples between his fingers, already tense and full erected. He stroked them gently, the heat of her soft pliant body urging him on, further igniting the rushing desire in him. He slipped the dress down over her shoulders and in the clear moonlight gazed at the beautiful milk white of her breasts, the high round smoothness set off by coral nipples. He could see that she was shivering and tiny goose bumps all over her exposed flesh made him even more excited.
He lowered his head and fastened his mouth on one of the tiny pebblelike nipples and he was surprised when Julie immediately pressed his head to her breast, moaning softly, as he sucked on first one and then the other. He felt her straining under him, and realized with disbelief, that she was thrusting her pelvis upward, trying to press her groin against his. He could hardly believe that this was his Julie… the prim, prudish Julie whom he loved but who barely had tolerated a tentative hand on her breast thus far. Something in him wanted to stop, to protect her… but his desire was too great now and she was wriggling a little beneath him, her breath coming in uneven gasps. Her hand was reaching down and he could feel her fingers fumbling at his fly. Disbelief swept over Bob as he felt her steadily lowering the zipper, and then slowly insert a tentative hand inside. A low guttural moan escaped him as he felt her hands on his swollen penis. Her touch sent eddies of spasmodic pleasure rippling over his entire body. He reached down and assisted her until she held his burgeoning cock in her hand and gently squeezed it, testing the hot, hard surface with her fingers. Then she instinctively began a rhythmic milking, moving slowly up and down and Bob was afraid that he'd cum right then in her hand. Looking down at her he saw that her normally sedate face was contorted with lust. He began rhythmic down-thrust against her belly.