What else could she do but agree? Nor had she broken her word. Though she couldn't quite understand the insistence for such secrecy, Priscilla's emphasis of it had, and it was intriguing her. What more could the wealthy, spoiled girl add to what she'd already implied that demanded such a furtive meeting? Had she made some horrible mistake in marrying Mark?
But even if she had, what could she do? She loved him so much, so very, very much!
After she'd securely concealed Clete Anderson in his strategic spot in her bedroom clothes-closet, taken a long look at the harmless appearing little sugar-cube on the serving tray, Priscilla Devereaux entered the luxuriously furnished front-room of their ranch house with an almost evil, lust-tugging smile playing about her sensual mouth. It had occurred to her that DesirЋe Denning did – actually did! The voluptuous blonde delight closely resembled her ex-roommate at college, resembled her to a striking T! And what erotic hours they had spent together! Of course, Wendy had been made-to-order lesbian material from her parental situation, but who was to say this gorgeous creature was any different? God, wouldn't that be an unexpected pleasure though! Actually, the tiniest leanings would be enough, regardless of whether she knowingly, or unknowingly, acknowledged them; the acid, with proper suggestiveness, would quickly bring them to the surface! Damn, it'd been a long time since she'd enjoyed those intoxicating games, hadn't it? The idea was more than slightly invigorating, especially with it producing all the desired results she vindictively sought. One way or the other, she was going to have her pound of flesh this night!
The curvaceously shaped, auburn-haired girl in her braless, slack ensemble, was in the act of mixing herself a drink when the front bell rang. She smiled, placing the ice-cube filled glass onto the small bar and walked toward the door, enjoyably performing the task of the servants she had dismissed for the evening.
"Well, hello, DesirЋe, please come in?" she warmly greeted the enthralling, shoulder-length, blonde-haired lovely in the black, mini-cocktail dress, her raking green-eyes immediately dropping from the revealing cleavage of smoothly firmed, white, full breasts to the dark nylon-encased beauty of perfectly rounded, lush thighs that tapered downward toward exotic calves and enviable ankles. "I didn't expect that you'd dress so – enchantingly, dear. You look absolutely stunning!"
"W-Well, thank you," DesirЋe replied with widening eyes, surprised at the other's generous compliments. "I wasn't sure whether you had mentioned dinner or not."
"Come in and have a drink, darling," Priscilla expertly trimmed her partially asked question short, catching her arm with feminine gentleness and leading her into the vast livingroom toward a couch. "Here – sit down, honey. This is my favorite nook, more intimate than the rest, I think. What will you have?"
"Oh, anything…" DesirЋe answered, carefully seating herself so that her knees were chastely touching, her revealed legs and outer thighs demurely at an angle. She watched the graceful, striking young woman glide away to the corner-bar. It was difficult for her to believe that only hours before, her hostess had sharply insisted that this secret tђte-€-tђte be held. Appraisingly, DesirЋe let her smoke-blue eyes brush over the other's appealing curves, noting the masculine broadness of shoulder and narrow waist. But the full, voluptuous contours of her rounded hips and buttocks in their silvery, tight-fitting slacks, belied any male influence. And her oval, full sweeping breasts, obviously unhampered by a bra according to their nipple-embossed flow of movement, were those of a girl who would look as well without, as with brassiere. And that was a rarity.
"I prefer martinis this time of evening," Priscilla was saying without glancing back at her. "And seeing you have no preference. An olive, or lemon twist?"
"Fine. Either," DesirЋe automatically responded, hardly knowing what she was saying as she tried to reason the meaning behind it all. Nothing was happening as she had anticipated.
"I know you're quite up-tight about our phone-conversation," Priscilla said in a calculatedly disarming tone as she gracefully returned to the couch with their drinks, smiling and handing one to DesirЋe before she eased downward onto the edge of the cushion. "I think such things are better done on a full stomach, DesirЋe dear, so let's have dinner first, just you and me, then talk." With that, she confidently added an additional lie: "I prepared it myself, orange duck, and not very good, I'm afraid, but at least private, as this little get-together should be."
DesirЋe sat forward, running her tiny tongue-tip over her lips nervously. "Just… what is this… little get-together all about, Priscilla?"
Surprising DesirЋe, the stunning girl lightly laughed, then charmingly arose to her feet. "Later, darling. Now, why don't you give me a hand in the kitchen? There's only the two of us tonight. Would you mind?"
Totally overwhelmed by the other's captivating manner, DesirЋe gained her feet and took her drink, as did her hostess, into the elaborate kitchen, readily helping with the dinner they carried to the dining table. Finally, they sat down at an intimate setting, eating scrumptiously, DesirЋe thought, with the proper wines, the light conversation doing nothing but putting her at ease, and making her wonder if any of their intensive exchange on the telephone had ever taken place.
It wasn't until they were back in the living room over coffees and cognac, still enjoying a pleasant mood, that she came to know different.
"You'll want sugar, darling," Priscilla said. "It's a very strong espresso."
"All right, one, just one, thank you. Ordinarily, I don't use any," DesirЋe replied with a smile. "I've been putting on weight."
The emerald-eyed hostess began to stir with her tiny spoon as did her guest, all of the mentally erotic imaginings Priscilla had been patiently guiding them toward about to culminate with her ruthless, nasty plans. She could hardly contain the lewd excitement bubbling within her sensuous young body. In keeping with the evening, she raised the demitasse cup and DesirЋe responded, daintily sipping.
"So at last we come to the reason for our little party, DesirЋe dear," the auburn-haired girl breathed, leaning back against the davenport. "It's always been my belief that when two women have shared a man, each owes a certain honesty to the other regarding him. Don't you think so? I mean, today, darling, it's become a recognized fact by us girls the necessity of banding together against the male beast, right?" She smiled warmly at her voluptuous companion who was properly balancing her little saucer and tasting from its miniature cup.
To that point, the curvaceous blonde's intrigued blue-eyes had been like innocent gems of concerned purity, Priscilla evaluated, their almost virginal expression feeding her licentiously building hunger. You enticing little bitch! Your innocent, almost unfucked look is a bewitching fraud, but it's going to make it all the more delightful!
She watched the unconcealable flicker of apprehension reveal itself in their abrupt, uneasy stare, but waited until the intoxicating creature perfunctorily sipped the last drop from her cup. Then, she said: "I'm sure you must've considered that Mark had a love-life before he met you, darling?"
"O-Of course – he's not a child," DesirЋe replied, a strange little tremor rippling over her. "But I can't believe that was why you were so insistent that I come here tonight – to discuss my husband's former love-life."
"Former?" Priscilla repeated the adjective with a smile. "You sound very much like a naive young wife, DesirЋe. His little affair with Nancy Pace in the old quarry this morning doesn't sound like a former love-life to me. Of course, I have no idea how long that's been going on."
"I don't believe it, Priscilla!" DesirЋe defended, the bite to her tone automatic.