The last thing I need now is a few pointers from him, Howard thought, but he knew it would be useless to argue. "All right," he said, feigning joviality. "Take me just a minute."
"Good, good."
A few minutes later the two of them were in Ralph's car, a one-year old Cadillac recently put on the lot and which he'd taken a liking to. Until it was sold, that is, and then he'd pick another big, pretentious car. Howard stared out the window. He thought that they would have walked up to the corner and the little neighborhood tavern, but instead Ralph had "suggested" (the suggestion a command in this instance) that they go downtown to a cocktail lounge in Morriston's fancy and plush hotel, the Constantinople. He felt acutely uncomfortable, as though again he was getting into more than he bargained for, but there wasn't any way he could see of getting out of it. But one drink or two wouldn't make any difference, could it? Besides, he could use it, he told himself; he had a bad case of the jitters at the thought of what he'd done and the storm that might be waiting for him when he got home.
A very irate and indignant wife, that's what. He shut his eyes, trying to blot out the thought.
Ralph found a parking place near the hotel. "Here we are, my boy." There seemed to be a wicked gleam in his eye, thought his salesman, and the way he's rubbing his hands together! The only time Howard had seen his boss do that was after the closing of a deal, when a customer had been badly overcharged or loaded with a lemon. Again, the nagging doubts as to "stopping for a drink" entered Howard's thoughts, but he went along, through the revolving door, into the deep-carpeted lobby.
The hotel's lounge was called The Arabian Knight, and was decorated in a mock Byzantine opulence not at all like Constantinople or Arabia in their most wicked days, but more like a Hollywood dream sequence of what life should have been back then. A pert waitress passed among the quite large crowd, dressed in a harem costume of spangled bra and pantaloons. The pantaloons were see-through gossamer, a wide triangle of gold coins woven together acting as the covering of her pubic area. She had long hair, similar to Cindy's long black, and an exciting, provocative wiggle which in spite of himself made Howard look.
Ralph's eyes were fastened on her, drawn to the rotating buttocks like air to a broken vacuum. "Hot damn!" the manager exclaimed. "She gets better looking every time I come in here!"
The waitress came over to the table where they were sitting. She smiled perfunctorily at Howard, and grinned at Ralph; she was obviously acquainted with him. Howard had the odd thought pass through him of how well? Ralph said: "Double bourbons."
"Ralph, I…" Howard started to protest.
"Come on, my boy. The night's young, and the drinks are on me." He winked at the waitress. "She looks damned tempting, doesn't she, Howie?"
The girl stuck her tongue out in mock pique, then took her tray and walked off, her rear end twitching provocatively. Ralph laughed, as much at her as at Howard's embarrassment. Howard knew now he was right; he was over his head again, and Ralph was an over-powering force, a person he couldn't hope to cope with.
The drinks appeared quickly and again the waitress swished her thighs and jiggled her full, barely contained breasts. This time Ralph leaned over and patted her buttocks lightly. The scent of sex was suddenly strong in the air, and trembling, Howard picked up his drink and downed it before he realized how strong and how full it was. He exploded with the burning heat in his throat and stomach, reaching for the water back.
"Another!" crowed Ralph, laughing loudly at Howard's coughing. "And one for me!" He gulped his drink as though it was lemonade.
Another round appeared beside Howard before he'd fully recovered from the last. He vowed to keep it there on the table, but somehow he was sipping it every time Ralph raised his glass to his lips, and that was often. Got to watch it… can't get drunk… not with Ralph… not with Cindy waiting at home for me…
"Here's a toast, Howie," Ralph said on the third double. "To the only man I've known in the car business who I can trust. Yes sir, you're interested in getting ahead, but by sticking with me, not stabbing me in the back."
Howard was stunned. He realized that the bourbon was getting to Ralph — was getting to him, too, by the way the room was starting to lose its clarity — but he never bargained on hearing such strong praise. It made him feel important and proud. He vowed that he would never go against Ralph, that his manager could always count on him. He raised his glass. "That's right," he said, his tongue rolling around the words. "I'm for you one hunn'er'pershent." He blinked. "Hundred percent," he repeated.
"Heh, heh," Ralph chortled at nothing in particular and clinked glasses. "Here's to us, the swinger and the prude!"
Howard suddenly froze. "Wh… what? Me, a prude?"
"No offense, my boy," Ralph beamed. "I'm a live'r, and you? Well, let's just say that you're a little too much of a stuffed shirt at times."
The waitress appeared with another double shot. It was over-full, the bartender knowing good customers when he saw them and wanting them to stay. What the hell is this bourbon? Howard thought, his head swimming, high octane aviation fuel? Then he saw Ralph stroke the waitress's thigh with loving fingers.
"Got to hand it to you," he admitted in a sudden pang of realization that what Ralph was saying was all too true. "Got to be honest and admit it. I am conservative." He had trouble with the word, instead pronouncing it, "coservative".
"Don't let it worry you, Howie, my boy," Ralph said. "In time you'll loosen up a bit." He leaned forward, almost hitting the glasses of bourbon, and said conspiratorially to Howard, "Now, for instance, tonight, if I were you, I would go home and have nothing to do with the little woman."
"I… I don't follow."
"You're worried about how Cindy will react to those pictures, right?" Ralph didn't wait for an answer but went on. "Well, do what I did. Don't touch her. Don't fuck her for three days. Hell, make it four!" he said expansively. "She'll want it then, and all the time those pictures will be on her mind, and she won't be able to get them out of her thoughts, seeing all those wild couples doing it and not her. Got me?"
"Yes, but…"
"Now that doesn't mean you have to go without a little ass. I'm not, that's for sure. We're going to get some fun, that's what we're going to do."
"No!" Howard cried, jerking backwards. He suddenly caught on to what his boss had in mind. Another woman! To be unfaithful to Cindy! The whole idea was ridiculous! Unthinkable! "No! I couldn't do that!"
"Damnit, sure you can! You're a man, aren't you?" Ralph's sudden snarl turned into a tone of conciliation. "The trouble with you is that you were raised as a Puritan, my boy, where sex is considered a sin unless for making kids. It's not, and never has been. Sex is good, clean fun and a hot experience whenever and wherever it can be had. And it can't take away any of your love for your wife. I love Norma; love her very much, but we're not exclusive possessions of one another. I…"
Ralph suddenly stopped his talk, and was looking over across the still crowded cocktail lounge. "Ah," he said. "Here they come."
"Who?" Howard asked, afraid he knew already.
"Our fun for tonight," Ralph said with a wink. Howard's mind tumbled crazily from Ralph's strong words of wisdom, his explicitly stated faith in his salesman, and the strong drink. He stared over his shoulder at the two women who were approaching the table. He wanted to get up… to run home and bury his head in his wife's breasts and forget what was happening… but it was as if he had grown roots to the chair.
"Now don't let me down, my boy," Ralph whispered. "I'm counting on you."
Counting oil you… counting on you… the words burned home. The women were now at the table, and Ralph made room for one, a short, highly developed brunette in a thin sheath. Howard suddenly found a tall, lithe blond haired girl beside him, her luminous green eyes sparkling and her tightly encased buttocks against his. "Hi," she said musically, "I'm Bonnie."