The Passion Hunters
by Pamela Kaye


"Let me undress you. I love to," said Isobel. She came close to Gwen and 
began unfastening her clothes. Surely this was not so terribly wrong, Gwen 
thought, it's just playing. It doesn't hurt anybody. 

She stifled her conscience and abandoned herself to Isobel. The older girl 
lifted her dress from her. Then the brassiere was unfastened, and Gwen's 
pear-shaped breasts were free. They stood up proudly, the nipples already in 
peaks. Then Isobel's small hands pulled at the panties and yanked them down. 

"Now me," said Isobel, standing up. She held out her arms. 

Gwen obeyed, her hands shaking with desire. She took off the loose wrapper, 
to find a warm silken nude body underneath. Eagerly her hands caressed the 
pink and white flesh. Isobel lay down on the bed and drew Gwen on top of 
her. 

"Oh I don't know I don't want-" Gwen began to protest. 

She was interrupted by a masculine voice from behind them. "What a pretty 
picture. Mind if I join you?" 

Horrified, Gwen lifted her head to see Don Hoover standing beside the large 
bed gazing down at his wife and Gwen. He was taking off his clothes! 

Gwen began to struggle, trying to get out of the smaller girl's strong grip. 

"She's getting away, Don!" said Isobel, getting a better grip on Gwen's 
legs. "She's sweet when she gets hot, but sometimes she's hard to manage." 

Gwen froze in horror as she realized what this couple meant to do. They 
meant to hold her, and force her to submit to both of them at the same time! 

"Now, Don. Now," Isobel cried. She forced Gwen's legs apart as Don moved 
forward... 

 CHAPTER ONE 

Gwen Anderson was standing on a chair, hanging curtains in the bedroom, when 
she saw the naked woman. 

Gwen had turned on the record player, and the Strauss waltzes were filling 
the rooms of her beautiful new house. She was so happy, she was humming 
along with the music. She wanted to dance with joy. 

At twenty-two, after four years of working for an insurance company, she had 
married the man she loved, Pete Anderson. She smiled with the love she felt 
at just thinking of Pete. He was so attractive, with his curly black hair, 
his black eyes, his tall lean figure. But more than that, much more, was the 
fact that he was gentle, and kind, and good. He was intelligent, and loved 
music as she did, and was wonderful, wonderful- 

She checked her thoughts, laughing softly to herself in the big empty house. 

"The happy bride," she said aloud, and chuckled. She reached up on tiptoe 
and made a pleat on the curtain rod so the sheer white curtains would hang 
properly. 

Then she saw her. Gwen gasped. Her big brown eyes stared in utter 
fascination and disbelief. 

The house next door in the exclusive suburb of Maple Heights was even larger 
than hers. Behind the two-story house was an oval swimming pool surrounded 
by a white picket fence. A woman lay on a green lounge beside the pool. 

At first Gwen thought the woman was wearing a flesh-colored swimming suit. 
Then as she stared the woman sat up, reached for a bottle and began patting 
a liquid on her thighs. 

"She is naked!" Gwen gasped. "Oh good grief!" 

The woman had long curly red-gold hair that hung down to her shoulders. Her 
eyes were covered with enormous sunglasses. Her breasts were large, with 
dark nipples that Gwen could see even from that distance. Gwen's rapt gaze 
went from the enormous breasts down to the slim tanned waist then to the 
wide tanned thighs. The triangle of red hair was thick and curly. Gwen 
gulped. 

She felt a rush of blood to her face. She jumped down from the chair, 
yanking the curtains into place. 

The woman probably didn't realize, thought Gwen, that people had moved in 
next door. She believed she was in privacy. 

But the vital image of that nude figure had burned itself into Gwen's brain. 
As she moved about her beautiful new home, she no longer hummed the Strauss 
waltzes. She felt strangely disturbed and uneasy. 

Pete came home at five-thirty, and roared into the house. 

"Where's my girl?" he yelled. 

Gwen called, "In the kitchen!" 

He came out to her. "Hey, something smells good!" He stood behind her at the 
stove, his hands on her waist, and kissed her cheek. 

"Did you have a good day?" she asked, rather shyly. She was not used to this 
yet, his reaching for her possessively whenever she was near. 

He nuzzled his head down into the flesh of her neck and put a string of 
kisses there. "Um. Good." 

"Pete-please!" she finally protested. "I can't get dinner if-" His hands had 
moved to her firm breasts and were squeezing them. The picture of the naked 
woman flashed in her head again. Gwen squirmed away from Pete. 

"Turn off the fires," he said huskily. He followed her to the kitchen table 
and reached for her again. 

"No, Pete! It will ruin the dinner." 

He frowned, his dark eyebrows expressing a quick anger. "We are married, 
aren't we? What's the matter with you?" ; 

"Nothing. I just I'm not ready please, Pete, let's have dinner while it's 
hot." 

He grumbled a little, but finally sat down. He grew more cheerful as they 
ate. He told her about a big insurance policy he had sold that day. 

"Larry Crawford threw the deal my way," he exulted. "He's the greatest! He 
knew it would be a big one, but he's not one to hog all the top customers. 
We're sure in good with him now!" 

Gwen stifled her real apprehensions as she listened. She had worked as a 
typist in the Crawford Insurance Agency for four years. Pete had only been 
there one year. He didn't really know Larry Crawford. The girls whispered 
about their young attractive boss. He had made a play for Gwen once, but she 
had to admit that when she had rebuffed him he had let her alone. He didn't 
seem to hold grudges. 

"This was the smartest thing we could have done," Pete said, leaning back 
and gazing about the kitchen. "When Larry suggested we should move to Maple 
Heights, I knew we had to. Now he'll know we're in his class. The house is 
expensive, but brother we'll more than make it up in my commissions from now 
on!" 

I'm sure we will," said Gwen, firmly. She wasn't at all that sure, but she 
had faith in Pete. 

"If we could only afford to buy more furniture-" The black eyebrows frowned 
quickly. 

Pete was so moody, she thought, so high one moment, so low the next. As she 
went to the refrigerator for ice cream, she paused to kiss his tanned cheek. 

"We have the bedroom suite and the living room and kitchen. That's all we 
need for now. I hung the bedroom curtains this morning. They look so 
lovely." Even as she spoke, the image of the naked woman came again, the 
red-haired gorgeous woman who lived next door. 

The image haunted her all evening. She and Pete did the dishes. They laid 
the rug in the living room, then moved the furniture several times till they 
were satisfied. The warm June evening finally cooled, and the breeze through 
the house became so brisk that they had to close the front and back doors. 

"This is going to be wonderful in the summer," Pete exulted. "Not like our 
hotbox apartment in town. We're up on the heights. Larry says there is 
always a breeze at night. Larry says there is a fine swimming pool two 
blocks from here, and a shopping center one block the other way. Larry 
says-" 

Gwen was tired of hearing "Larry says" but she listened patiently. Larry 
Crawford had been very good to them. The minute Pete had told Larry of his 
engagement to Gwen, Larry had given him a raise, laughing away his feeble 
protests. 

"Any man who can get a gorgeous girl like Gwen deserves a raise," he had 
said. 

And Larry had thrown Pete several fat prospects for insurance policies, even 
though Pete had worked less than a year for the Crawford Agency. 

Gwen and Pete went to bed early, at Pete's insistence. Gwen undressed in the 
bathroom, nervously. She avoided looking at her image in the mirror as she 
removed her under things. She had never been in a bathroom that had a 
full-length mirror on the wall; it seemed indecent. 

When she was ready, she paused to gaze at herself with shy doubt. She wore a 
short white nightgown that fell just below her knees. There were tiny pink 
roses on the embroidered hem and collar. The square neck set off her pink 
and white skin, the oval of her face, the brown curly hair that hung below 
her shoulders. The sleeveless gown was not sheer, but her flesh seemed to 
shine through it. Her breasts rounded out the bodice and the pink tips made 
pointed impressions on the cloth. 

Pete seemed to go crazy every time he saw her like this. His craziness 
frightened her more than a little. Gwen sighed deeply, her brown eyes 
shadowing. She opened the bathroom door and went to the darkened bedroom. 

Pete was already in bed, his tanned, body stretched out on the white sheet. 
He wasn't wearing anything. He had said it was too hot for clothes, but Gwen 
suspected it was because the clothes would get in his way. 

He gazed at her as she snapped off the hall light. She could see his black 
eyes shining just before the light disappeared. 

She came slowly over to the bed and got in on her side. As she had feared, 
he reached for her at once. Her body tensed as his arms closed around her. 

"Sweetheart," he whispered. "My darling." 

Then he was at her, pulling up the white gown. She braced herself for his 
rough attack. When they were engaged, he had never been rough. He had kissed 
her gently and touched her face with careful hands. 

Now he was always rough. His brown hard hands rubbed over her bare thighs. 
He pulled and yanked at her bare legs. She bit her lips and rolled her head 
on the pillow. He had hurt her badly their wedding night, but she had not 
cried since then. She could endure it, because he enjoyed it so much. 

His lean body came over hers. He nuzzled at her neck, muttering love words. 
Then the pain began. She shivered again and again as the thrusting movements 
seemed to tear her in two. The pain became unbearable. She opened her mouth 
to cry out. But at that moment, Pete shook and fell forward, and she felt 
the welcome ending of the embrace. 

Gently she stroked his black hair. When it was all over, she could love him 
again. He was her darling, her love, she thought. He was her man, her 
husband. Nothing was too good for him. She would, she must get used to the 
pain. 

He rolled off and lay beside her. She relaxed and composed herself for 
sleep. She was so tired. Her bones ached from the house-cleaning, and from 
her husband's rough handling. 

A cool breeze came from the window. She pulled down her nightgown. Then, as 
the breeze was so cool, she reached for the sheet at the foot of the bed to 
pull it up. 

"Not yet," said Pete's husky voice. He sat up and reached for her again. 

She was startled and off-guard. 

"Don't!" she said, and fought him. "Pete! Don't do that! Not any more!" 

"I want more," he said urgently. His hands fumbled for the hem of her gown. 

She couldn't take any more. She ached and burned from his previous 
treatment. She shoved at him with all her strength, seething with the 
injustice of it. She wanted her rest. 

He panted, yanking at her. 

"Stop it, Pete. Stop it!" When he didn't stop, she slapped his face. 

He fell back, surprised. 

"You're you're an animal!" she blazed. "You're just an animal! I'm tired! 
Can't you let me alone?" 

"I just wanted-" he began in a muffled voice. 

"Haven't you hurt me enough?" she cried. "Hurt!" 

"Yes! You hurt me! Just like an animal, always wanting more!" She was 
thinking of the stallions on her father's horse farm in Kentucky. Pete made 
her remember the way the big black stallion had attacked a mare. 

Then she realized she had gone too far. Pete was getting out of bed. 

"Pete ... I didn't mean-" 

He stalked out of the room. She heard him going down the stairs. She waited, 
but he didn't come back. 

Well, let him sulk, she thought, punching her pillow. Let him be hurt. She 
had been hurt enough for this time. 

But the thought worried her even as she drifted off to sleep. This was the 
first time she and Pete had ever quarreled. 

 CHAPTER TWO 

Pete did not get over his anger very quickly. Gwen grew more and more 
troubled as he slept night after night on the couch downstairs. 

She didn't know how to apologize. She had spoken the truth. Perhaps, she 
thought, lying awake in the bedroom, after his anger was gone he would 
realize it was the truth and treat her more gently. 

On Saturday morning Pete mowed the lawn. Gwen, cleaning the bedroom, peeped 
at him through the curtains. Her heart seemed to choke her as she gazed at 
him. 

He was tall and handsome, his black curly hair and tanned face set off by 
his blue shirt. His blue shorts showed his tanned muscular legs. 

He's so strong, she thought, as he pushed the hand mower in easy strokes 
over the thick grass. 

She was about to turn back into the room to resume her work when a movement 
caught her eye. 

Gwen stiffened and glared like an apprehensive kitten as the red-haired 
woman strolled across the lawn from the house next door. 

The woman headed right for Pete. She wore a brief green bra-top which 
half-revealed her lush breasts. Her green shorts were so tight she might as 
well be naked, Gwen told herself savagely. 

Pete stopped mowing. He turned his back to the window to gaze at the 
approaching woman. Gwen wished she could see his face. She gripped the 
curtain tight in her fist. 

They talked, and laughed. Pete was laughing! He was so angry at Gwen he 
hadn't spoken to her for three days, but he was laughing with that woman! 

They talked and talked. The woman put her hands on her hips, swaying back 
and forth on her sandaled feet. She put up one arm flipped her red-gold hair 
practically in Pete's face. The brazen bitch! Gwen muttered to herself. 

Then Pete turned to face the house. 

"Gwen!" he called. "Gwen! Come out a minute!" 

How sweet of him, thought Gwen, to remember he has a wife! 

She brushed back the curtains, and called, her voice honeyed, "I'll be right 
out, dear." 

She paused long enough to look in the mirror. She grimaced unhappily. Next 
to that over-sexed female, she would look like a child, a drudge. Her hair 
was tied back with a blue ribbon. Her loose, blue-checked housecoat 
concealed the nice curves she possessed. 

"Oh, well," she said aloud. "Pete knows what I look like." 

She went outdoors into the bright sunlight. 

"Gwen, this is Karen Marshall from next door. She offered the use of her 
power mower till we get one. Karen, this is my wife, Gwen." 

"Nice to meet you." The red mouth smiled. The eyes were hidden by large 
blinders of sunglasses. "I'm so glad you're young. The last people here were 
positively ancient! Every time we held a party, they complained about the 
noise." 

"We don't mind noise not party noise." Pete beamed down at her from his lean 
height. 

"Good! We're having a party tonight. You're coming, I hope. I told Larry I 
would have you both there tonight." 

"Larry?" asked Gwen blankly. 

"Larry Crawford. He and his wife Barbara are real swingers. We get together 
with a small crowd every Saturday night." The blinders flashed a wide green 
gaze in Gwen's direction. "Larry told us all about you. You like to dance, 
he said." 

"We sure do!" said Pete eagerly. 

Karen smiled, a slow seductive smile in Pete's direction. "Come about nine. 
We always have fun." 

She and Pete left to get her power mower. Gwen went back in the house. She 
felt rather excited about the party. She adored parties, she thought, as she 
started the house cleaning again. 

Yet there was a twinge of uneasiness underneath the pleasure. She 
instinctively did not trust Karen Marshall. The woman was too easy with 
Pete, too familiar too fast, too too naked! Gwen grimaced as she realized 
her true feelings: She was jealous of the woman because she was too 
beautiful! 

Gwen's next problem was what to wear. The choice was not difficult. Her most 
elaborate dress was a short pink silk sheath with a sequined bodice. She put 
it on after her bath, and sprayed her best perfume. 

"You look great," said Pete, struggling into his white dinner jacket. "This 
is luck, isn't it? Getting in with Larry's crowd right off!" 

"Yes, it should be fun," said Gwen, without enthusiasm. And perhaps, she 
added to herself, she and Pete would make up after tonight. She hated the 
anger between them. 

Karen Marshall met them inside the open French doors at the side of the 
house. She wore a green silk sheath embroidered with black dragons writhing 
sensuously over her breasts and thighs. Her red-gold hair hung loose to her 
shoulders. 

"Come in, neighbors," she drawled. "Meet my husband, Floyd. Fix drinks, 
Floyd!" And she turned to greet another arriving couple. 

Floyd was much older than Karen; in his forties, Gwen guessed. He was 
shorter than Karen, balding, his blonde hair turning gray, his blue eyes shy 
and diffident. He spoke little, but busied himself with providing drinks 
from an ample bar along one side of the large room. 

Karen introduced Gwen and Pete to all who came. Gwen tried to fix the names 
in her mind. Isobel and Don Hoover were pleasant, both blonde, twenty-ish. 
Elbe and Jim Roth were brisk and smartly dressed, he rather sarcastic. Nola 
and Arthur Stowell were older, perhaps in then-late thirties. Then Larry and 
Barbara Crawford arrived. 

Larry greeted Gwen and Pete exuberantly. "How are you getting along? How do 
you like Maple Heights? Do you like your house, Gwen?" 

"Oh, yes, it's beautiful! We're so happy-" Gwen faltered. Larry always 
overwhelmed her when he turned on his charm. 

Pete caught up the conversation with a glowing account of how pleased they 
were. Larry listened, beaming, his attractive tanned face shining with good 
humor. 

Gwen glanced doubtfully at Barbara Crawford. She was a tall elegant woman, 
blonde, with large blue eyes, so faultlessly dressed in a black sheath that 
she made everyone else look over-dressed. Her hair was wound in smooth 
shining coils. Gwen had seen her in the office, but had never spoken to her 
before. Now, up close, Gwen realized something that startled her. Barbara 
was in her mid-thirties. Her blonde hair was carefully touched up. The lines 
in her face were covered with makeup, but her throat gave her away. Why, 
thought Gwen, she's at least five or six years older than Larry, maybe more. 

Barbara smiled with her mouth, her gaze following Larry as he and Pete moved 
away. It seemed an effort for her to look at Gwen. 

"You'll enjoy the parties here," she assured Gwen. "This is a lively crowd. 
Never a dull moment. Have another drink. Floyd?" 

Floyd appeared with two more drinks. Gwen had swallowed her first hastily 
without noticing what she did. Now the burning and dizziness made her 
cautious. These drinks were strong. She had better sip at hers and make it 
last, she decided. 

Barbara motioned to Gwen and the two girls went to sit on the couch beside 
Nola Stowell. Gwen listened in silence as the women discussed a fashion 
show. Evidently both had time and money to spend freely. 

The music blared louder, drowning out conversation. Barbara looked up to 
watch Karen dance past with Pete. Gwen tried not to watch. Karen had pasted 
herself to Pete, and Pete seemed to enjoy the way she was hanging on to him, 
her hips brushing his as they danced. Her hand at the back of his neck 
played with the curls he always brushed down so hard. 

"Attractive man," said Nola dispassionately. Somehow Gwen was reminded of 
horse-buyers at her father's farm as Nola looked up and down the length of 
Pete. 

"Very-good-looking," agreed Barbara. "You have an adorable accent, Gwen. 
Where are you from?" 

Gwen stiffened. She was sensitive about some jeers she had received when she 
first came to Ohio. "I'm from Kentucky," she said proudly. "My daddy raises 
horses there." 

"Lovely," drawled Barbara indifferently, her gaze following her own husband 
now. 

"Kentucky?" said another voice, a masculine voice at Gwen's elbow. It was 
Arthur Stowell, standing there. "I thought you looked like a fresh pretty 
farm girl!" He snickered. 

Gwen disliked him at once. Her mouth tightened to hold back angry words. Why 
did Ohio folks think it was so humorous to come from Kentucky? She looked 
for Pete, but he was dancing with Ellie Roth. The approved mode of dancing 
here seemed to be for the couple to squirm as close together as possible. 

"Gwen? How about this dance?" It was nice blonde Don Hoover who smiled down 
at Gwen. She stood up gratefully and moved into his arms. He was polite, she 
thought, as he didn't hold her too tightly. 

"What did Arthur say to you just now?" Don asked, moving her slowly in a 
circle. 

Gwen told him, impulsively. "He laughed when I said I was from Kentucky." 

"He laughs at me for liking good music," said Don. "You should hear him kid 
me about Beethoven and Brahms. Don't mind him. He-likes to find a sore spot 
and then prod it. But Nola is fine. We like her." 

Don made her feel much better. Gwen smiled at him, and he smiled back. 

"You're very pretty, you know that?" he said. He wasn't fresh, she thought, 
just direct and natural. 

"Thank you." 

"Tell me what you like. Strauss waltzes?" 

"Oh, how did you know?" Her brown eyes widened. He chuckled. "I should tell 
you I'm psychic, but it so happens I drove past the house a couple days ago, 
and heard the hi-fi going full blast." 

He was so pleasant she was regretful when he relinquished her to Larry 
Crawford. Larry held her more tightly. Yet he was agreeable, and asked her 
several questions concerning the house. 

The evening began to fly past. Except for the number of drinks consumed, it 
was a party like any other she had attended, and the only flaw for her was 
the fact that Pete did not dance once with her. He was still angry, then, 
she decided ruefully. 

Once the crowd seemed smaller. There was more room to dance. Looking about, 
she realized four people were missing. Larry Crawford, Ellie Roth, Arthur 
Stowell and Isobel Hoover were no longer in the room. Odd, Gwen thought. 
Were they out on the lawn? She couldn't see anyone out there. 

Then Larry and Elbe returned. Gwen realized as soon as she saw them that 
Ellie was definitely drunk, and very mussed. Her hair had tumbled down, her 
smart clothes looked as though she had slept in them. Her eyes were 
unnaturally bright. 

Gwen began to feel uneasy. She tried to shove the thought from her mind but 
she couldn't keep from believing Larry and Elbe had been in a bedroom 
together. Arthur and Isobel came back. She was tugging her dress into place. 
Arthur paused at her back and pulled up her zipper to her neck. She smiled 
over her shoulder at him. 

It could all be innocent or it might not be. Gwen's mind was in a turmoil. 
Then she saw Karen dancing with Pete. He began to laugh at something she was 
saying. He laughed so hard, she wrinkled her nose at him. She gave him a 
quick shove, and he sat down hard in a big armchair. 

To Gwen's surprise, Karen then sat down on Pete's lap and cuddled up to him. 
She put her arm around his neck and rubbed her nose against his head as she 
whispered in his ear. Pete laughed again, but a red flush came up in his 
cheeks. His eyes met Gwen's. He looked defiant, startled. 

"Are you shocked?" Larry's husky voice said in Gwen's ear. She had not 
realized he was so close. She shrank away from him. "My dear girl, they're 
only having fun! Don't look so horrified." 

Gwen looked up at Larry's amused face. His eyes were narrowed, a little 
cruel, she decided. 

"I think," she said, "that I'm tired. We've been cleaning house, you know." 
She went over to Pete, who was still holding Karen on his lap. 

Gwen's smile felt frozen when she met Karen's sharp green eyes. 

"Pete, we really must go," she said, with false brightness. "I'm so tired. 
It has been a lovely party, Karen!" 

Everyone heard, and turned toward them, watching. Karen finally got up, her 
green eyes like slits of emerald fire. 

"If you must go before midnight," she drawled. "Just like Cinderella..." Her 
gaze went significantly over Gwen's pink dress. 

Pete came with Gwen, but he was furious. "Are you trying to get me fired?" 
he growled angrily, as soon as they were home. "Dragging me away from a 
party of my boss and his friends! What do you think you're doing?" 

He slept on the couch again that night. Gwen could hear the sounds of music 
and laughter that went on and on, far into the night and early morning. She 
felt as though she and Pete had visited briefly in another world, a strange 
and disturbing and frightening world. 

 CHAPTER THREE 

After a miserable Sunday of stony silence with Pete, Gwen was glad to see 
him off to work on Monday morning. She meant to make up with Pete soon, but 
he wasn't any help. She felt miserable and anxious. Their first few weeks 
together had been so lovely (except for the sex he insisted on). Now 
everything had gone wrong. 

She did the laundry. It didn't take long, with her efficient washer and 
drier installed in the kitchen. While she waited for the clothes to finish, 
she sat down at the table with a cup of coffee. 

She propped her chin on her hand, and made idle circles on the table with 
her fingers. What could she do? Apologize to Pete? Convince him she didn't 
mean he was an animal? Invite him to her bed? 

She sighed impatiently. Marriage was so different from what she had 
expected. It wasn't like rooming in an apartment with another girl. She and 
her roommate had shared in cleaning the apartment, had stayed out of each 
other's way when they had dates, had taken turns cooking, had considered 
each other's feelings when a difference of opinion arose. 

Marriage was oh, so different, she thought. Pete seemed to expect her to do 
things his way. She was supposed to do all the adjusting. If he come at 
five-thirty, or six-thirty, or seven, supper was supposed to be ready for 
him. 

"He just isn't reasonable!" she muttered aloud. 

Pete didn't ask her if she wanted love-making. He simply took it for granted 
he could do what he pleased whenever he pleased. 

"He isn't fair!" she said. 

The loud ringing of the doorbell made her jump. She glanced down at herself, 
horrified. It was a hot June morning, and she was wearing only a loose pink 
house coat and sandals, no underclothing. She hadn't expected company. In 
the city, no one ever "dropped in." They phoned and made formal arrangements 
to come. 

She debated not going to the door, but curiosity won. She went to the front 
door and opened it. 

Isobel Hoover smiled at her. "Hello! I was afraid you weren't home." 

"Ah come in. I'm not dressed I uh-" Gwen stammered, torn between politeness 
and embarrassment. 

"Neither am I." Isobel's hand indicated her blue sheath dress and bare-foot 
sandals. "I just stopped by to talk a few minutes. Your house is lovely!" 

The blonde girl's chatter and exclamations over the house eased the 
nervousness in Gwen. She finally asked if her guest would care for coffee. 

"I'd love it. I never care how hot the weather is; I have to have my hot 
coffee." 

Isobel sat down at the kitchen table. She was so friendly and informal that 
Gwen felt free to finish her washing. 

"One reason I came," said Isobel, pouring herself a second cup, "was to warn 
you about something." 

"Oh? What?" 

"I adore the way your eyes pop wide open. You're cute." Isobel smiled at her 
easily. She was very attractive, Gwen thought, a small doll-like pretty 
woman with curly blonde hair and china blue eyes. "I wanted to warn you 
about jealousy. It won't do, you know. Not in our crowd." 

Gwen could feel the embarrassed red burning her cheeks as Isobel went on. 

"That scene the other night at Karen's." She shook her blonde head in 
rebuke. "Larry was amused, but the girls well, Pete is terribly attractive. 
The girls will want to dance with him, and make a fuss over him. If he 
responds, why object?" 

"But he's my husband!" Gwen blurted. 

Isobel shrugged daintily. "Don is my husband. We've been married three 
years. I adore him and he loves me. But when Karen or Ellie or some other 
girl wants Don's attention, you know what I do?" 

"What?" asked Gwen. 

"I dance with another man. I have fun. Don has fun. No harm is done. You 
see, jealousy only makes trouble. Men are bound to stray a bit. If they feel 
guilty about it, they sulk. I hate sulking, don't you?" 

"Oh, I certainly do! And Pete-" Gwen stopped herself abruptly. 

"Are you having early marriage troubles?" asked Isobel, so nicely that Gwen 
could not resent it. "I bet you never even had an affair before you were 
married did you?" 

"An affair! Of course not!" 

"I did, several of them. And it was still a shock to adjust to marriage. As 
sweet as Don is-" She shook her head ruefully. "I'm still not used to the 
way he takes off his clothes and expects me to pick them up from the floor! 
And when he's hungry, he wants to eat right now. It doesn't matter if I have 
two more hours of cooking to do!" 

"Pete is like that, too. He comes home at odd hours and I'm supposed to have 
a perfect dinner ready!" 

"But we love the brutes, don't we?" asked Isobel. 

"Oh, yes, I love Pete very much. It's just that-" Gwen paused, gulped, then 
blurted out the awful truth. "He wants sex all the time, and he doesn't care 
how much he hurts me! I called him an animal, and now he won't sleep with 
me!" 

She was appalled as soon as she had confessed. Isobel should be horrified. 
But the blonde girl was not even startled. She nodded. 

"I guessed it was something like that. I can help you, if you'll let me. I 
know just what to do." 

Gwen rounded her eyes. "What can you do?" she gasped. 

Isobel smiled, with more than a trace of mischief. "You'll be surprised. 
I'll tell you exactly how to act. You won't even feel pain. You'll find as 
much pleasure in sex as Pete does. More!" 

"I I don't know-" 

"I won't tell you. I'll show you!" As though inspired, Isobel jumped up. In 
a business-like way, she said, "Let's go to the bedroom." 

Gwen swallowed She sat there dumbly, warm shame rushing over her. This woman 
was a stranger. She should never have confided such an intimate problem to 
her. 

"Come on, honey," Isobel urged. She smiled at Gwen, and her smile was full 
of charm and humor. "Don't you believe me? I can show you just what to do 
witn Pete so he'll get more pleasure, and you'll have a marvelous time!" 

Gwen couldn't resist that. She followed Isobel up the stairs to the bedroom. 
Isobel closed the door after them. She looked at Gwen critically. 

"Take off your sandals. How much are you wearing? Just the dress?" 

Gwen nodded. She knew her face was red as fire. She felt hot all over. But 
her curiosity drove her to obey Isobel. She wanted to enjoy sex as Pete did, 
and if she could give Pete more pleasure, it would be worth any shame or 
embarrassment she might feel with Isobel. 

She took off her sandals and dress, then lay down on the unmade bed. She 
wanted to pull up the sheet, but Isobel rebuked her. 

"No. You mustn't feel any false modesty. Just pretend I'm Pete," she said 
gaily. She unzipped her blue dress and stood in white panties and a brief 
white bra. She kicked off the sandals, and came over to the bed. 

Gwen closed her eyes instinctively. Isobel lay down beside her. Gwen could 
smell her perfume, a strong spicy scent. Try as she would, Gwen could not 
pretend the soft silken hands that touched her were those of her husband. 

Gwen lay stiffly, uncomfortably as Isobel stroked her gently. She jumped 
nervously as a soft mouth kissed her throat. She jumped nervously as a soft 
mouth kissed her throat. Her eyes flew open. She saw the blonde curly head 
of Isobel as the girl kissed. 

"Now first," said Isobel briskly, her tone strangely at variance with the 
intimate stroking of her hands, "encourage Pete to kiss you all over. I'll 
show you. Does he just jump right on you and start?" 

Gwen nodded, and whispered, "Yes." 

"He needs to learn his techniques," was Isobel's calm judgment. "It's up to 
you to help him learn. Have him do this." 

She bent over Gwen. Gwen stiffened out straight as Isobel began kissing her 
shoulders. She gasped as the blonde head moved lower. Isobel's right hand 
cupped a ripe mound and the breast began to ache under her kissing. The tip 
of the breast tautened to a hard point. Isobel licked it delicately with her 
tongue. 

"Just he still," she chided, as Gwen squirmed. "Let me show you, you'll 
learn to love this." 

Gwen forced herself to he quietly. Isobel kissed and licked her breasts, 
lingering over them. In spite of the strangeness, Gwen began to relax. It 
was pleasant to feel the warm loving contacts. 

She closed her eyes again, and submitted herself to Isobel's skilled 
ministrations. The older girl moved her head lower, and kissed Gwen's slim 
waist. Her hands stroked deftly down over Gwen's plump thighs. Gwen shivered 
a little. 

"You're very pretty," Isobel cooed. "Pretend I'm Pete. Pretend I'm your 
husband kissing you." 

Gwen tried to pretend. But the softness pressing on her naked body was not 
her husband. The smell of spicy perfume was not Pete's masculine odor. She 
could not forget it was a woman hovering over her. Yet her body was 
relaxing, softening, warming. 

Isobel kissed her waist over and over, and rubbed her silken face against 
Gwen's belly. Her fingers stroked down to Gwen's knee, and rubbed lovingly. 
Then the hand crept up between Gwen's thighs and touched a soft spot. 

Gwen jerked. 

"Lie still, honey," Isobel commanded. "This is important. Lie still and let 
me work on you." 

Gwen forced herself to stillness. The cheek lay on her belly. The hand 
stroked again, again, softly, then more firmly. She squirmed uneasily as the 
fingers prodded, exploring her. 

"It's all right," Isobel soothed her gently. "This is what Pete should do. 
like this and this-" 

"Ooooh," Gwen moaned. She felt a strange hot sensation in her belly as 
Isobel's fingers rubbed. "Oooooh!" she lifted her hips involuntarily. The 
hand increased its pressure. A finger slid deftly. "Oh no-no-" Gwen 
objected, startled. 

"Oh yes!" Isobel contradicted her firmly. "Now when Pete does this as a man 
does honey you lift your hips and push toward his hips. Come on. Show me you 
can. 

Isobel's left hand came under Gwen's hips and forced her up toward the other 
hand. Gwen followed her orders helplessly. The girl commanded, entreated, 
begged, and Gwen lifted her hips and bounced them up and down between 
Isobel's hands. 

She was feeling hotter and more dizzy. Strange sensations flashed through 
her as the other girl pressed kisses on her. That hard finger prodded 
deeply. But it didn't hurt. It was pleasant, exciting, Gwen acknowledged to 
herself. 

There was silence in the bedroom as the two girls came closer to each other. 
Isobel's body lay half on Gwen's. The two figures writhed and twisted on the 
sheets. Then Gwen began to gasp aloud. 

Something inside her took control. Without her will her hips began to bounce 
in frantic increasing rhythm. Isobel's hand became harder, almost painful, 
digging at the girl's flesh. But it was no pain to Gwen. It was sheer, 
marvelous pleasure. 

Then it happened. A twinge, a moment's warning, and all of a sudden Gwen 
cried out. Her eyes shut tight; she seemed to soar up into a heaven of 
undreamed-of delights. With Isobel's arms holding her, Gwen blazed up into 
ecstasy. Fireworks exploded inside her belly and thighs. She felt white-hot, 
incandescent, fully alive for the first time in her life. 

She blanked out for a moment at the height of the joy. 

When she came to, she saw Isobel bending over her. The creamy pink cheeks of 
the other girl set off the blazing china blue eyes. 

"There, darling. There," whispered Isobel. She bent and kissed Gwen on the 
mouth, a lingering, deliberately passionate kiss. "Now you know how sweet it 
can be." 

Gwen was too dazed to speak. Isobel got up presently and left her. Gwen lay 
on the bed, stunned at what had happened. 

Isobel could talk all she wanted about "pretending to be Pete." Gwen knew 
enough to know that was not what Isobel had done to her. Isobel had 
initiated Gwen into a more peculiar form of love-making than between husband 
and wife. 

Isobel had initiated Gwen into Lesbianism. 

Gwen had been strictly raised. She was appalled and frightened at what had 
happened. She clutched at the sheet to cover herself. That was not enough. 
She had to get up and take a long hot shower to wash off the stain of the 
incident. 

But all the soap and water in the world could not wash away the shame of her 
new self-knowledge. She had enjoyed Isobel's love-making, as she had never 
enjoyed Pete's. 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

Gwen was in misery the next few days. She had let a woman make love to her. 
Worse she had enjoyed it tremendously. Much, much worse she wanted to 
experience it again! 

Pete continued to sleep on the couch in the living room. Gwen tossed on the 
wide bed, sleepless, her thighs warm and moistened as her thoughts dwelt 
lovingly on Isobel. The very memory of the warm, silken, perfumed body 
pressing on hers was enough to make Gwen feel a real and intense desire. 

If only Pete would come up to her then, she thought. She twisted and turned, 
her hips throbbing. She put her hands on her aching breasts and squeezed 
till the nipples popped into hard peaks. She wanted love! 

But Pete did not come. And Gwen was too proud to go to him. Pete had 
offended. It was his place to apologize, she thought. With delicate fingers 
she touched the hard knob Isobel had touched. It seemed to be the very 
center of an ardent burning need. Her hips jerked as her fingers played. 

With a sigh, she took her hand away. She wanted her husband. He should touch 
her, wake her throbbing life, make love so that she felt the tremendous 
ecstasy of satisfied passion. She resolved to give Pete a strong hint of her 
feelings. 

The next day she kissed him when he came home from work. 

"Hello, darling. Did you have a good day?" She tried to press against him. 

He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away, just a little, but 
enough to keep a distance between their bodies. 

"A hot day. I'm covered with sweat. I'll take a shower before dinner." 

She drooped. "All right, dear." She felt rejected, even with his 
explanation. 

After dinner, he said, "Oh, I suppose we'll have to go to the company 
picnic. It's on Saturday." 

"This Saturday? They never had it in June!" she protested. Pete hadn't said 
a word about the picnic. 

"There's a conflict in July. They changed the date. Uh Larry said it's the 
usual. Games in the afternoon, dancing in the evening." 

"Okay. What shall I wear?" 

He shrugged. He had scarcely looked at her all evening. "Whatever you want. 
I'm wearing my white suit. It's cooler." 

He didn't seem to care what she wore, she thought, as he got up and left the 
table. She felt rather frightened as she did the dishes alone. She wouldn't 
have believed Pete would remain angry so long. 

When she went to the living room, he was reading the paper. He was 
half-hidden behind the pages. She finally went to him and sat down beside 
him. 

"Pete?" she asked. 

"Yeah?" He turned the page, and it made a loud rustle of irritation. 

"Would you like to go to a movie? There's a good double feature at the 
drive-in." 

Silence. She put her hand very casually on his knee, and leaned closer as 
though to look at the paper. She could feel the heat of his masculine body, 
the warmth throbbing under her fingers. 

He sat up straight. "Here, take the paper. I'm through," he said, and put 
the newspaper on her lap. "I've got some insurance forms to make out 
tonight. Sorry. I can't take time for a movie." 

He got up and went over to his desk. He snapped on the desk lamp, took 
several books from a pile, sat down and began to work. 

Gwen felt as though he had slapped her. She sat with the newspaper on her 
lap. Tears came to her eyes, but she blinked hard until they sank down again 
from where they had come. 

The picnic, she thought then, with renewed hope. Everyone drank quite a bit. 
Pete had been drunk on beer last year, and had laughed and been silly. In 
the car afterwards he had grabbed her and kissed her furiously. 

He would have to dance with her at the picnic. She would fix that, she 
vowed. She would make him want her while they danced. Then afterwards at 
home he would forget their silly quarrel. They would go up to bed, and she 
would show him what she had learned, and- 

And she would wipe from her memory the feel of Isobel's lips on her stomach, 
the caress of the small skillful hand, the play of fingers on wet yielding 
flesh, the ecstasy known with another woman. 

The picnic was on the hottest, sunniest June day yet. Gwen sat in the shade 
gossiping with some secretaries, and watching Pete play baseball. He drank a 
can of beer between every inning. But so did the other men. The score was 
tied. 

"How do you like married life?" one of the girls asked. 

Gwen, through some strange trick of the mind, thought of Isobel, the 
conversation that day, the blonde woman's probing questions, then the 
bedroom climax. She blushed hotly. 

The girls laughed, and teased her. 

"Oh, I bet Pete is quite a guy," one girl said. 

Gwen didn't try to comment on that. 

Later in the evening, she got Pete to dance with her. He had drunk plenty of 
beer, he was loose-limbed and swaying with the music. 

She pressed close to him, and let her hips rub against his hips. She had 
never danced like that before with any man, even her husband. She was 
feeling pretty, wearing a thin yellow dress, confident of her charms, 
knowing Pete loved her. 

She put her arm up high over Pete's shoulder and played with the curly 
strands of hair on the back of his neck, as she had seen Karen do. Pete 
jerked his neck like a stallion, tossing his head, rearing back, his black 
eyes gbttering. 

She knew a sense of power. She pressed closer, and touched his neck again. 
And she got a reaction. Against her belly, through their thin clothes, she 
felt a powerful surge of masculine response. He was reacting! And how, she 
thought, not fearful tonight. She wanted him to be big and swollen and 
ready. 

The music stopped. He took her back to the table. Larry Crawford was 
standing there, waiting for them. 

"How about this dance, Gwen?" 

She smiled, accepting the invitation. Larry was a good dancer, though he 
held her too close. 

Was it marriage, she wondered, that made her so intensely aware of 
masculinity? Through her clothes she was feeling Larry's bodily reaction to 
her. He seemed to purposely rub against her as they danced. One hand on the 
small of her back held her firmly to him. Against her stomach a large hard 
pressure was pushing. It was pulsing, growing, and he held her tighter and 
tighter. 

"You're sweet," he growled in her ear. "Oh, you're a sweet one." 

In a dark corner of the outdoor dance floor, he paused, pressed very hard to 
her, his hips seeming to revolve in an erotic dance. 

"Please Larry-" she gasped. The drinks she had had were blurring her brain, 
but she had sense enough to know he was using her. 

"Hold still just a minute ah, ah ahhh-" He groaned, and bent over and kissed 
her neck savagely, with open lips, his teeth touching her skin. At the same 
time, his hips jerked spasmodically. 

"Larry!" He wouldn't release her, hugging her furiously. She squirmed, and 
he seemed to enjoy her movements. Finally he shuddered in hard spasms that 
shook him. 

He gasped out, "It's all right. I've got cloth there." 

She was burning with shame and embarrassment when he finally let her go. He 
laughed softly when he saw her face. 

"Still the bashful bride?" he teased. "I thought you knew plenty by this 
time." 

She turned her back on him and walked unsteadily back to Pete. 

"It's midnight. Shall we go?" asked Pete, with strained politeness. 

"Yes. Let's." She wanted a cool wind in her face to cool the heat of her 
shame. She had let Larry Crawford use her. In the first few moments she 
could have pulled away, but she hadn't. She had let him use her to satisfy 
himself. 

In the car, she wanted to sit close to Pete. He took off his jacket and laid 
it on the seat between them. 

"Still hot tonight," he said impersonally. 

"Yes, it is. It was a nice picnic," she said, not thinking so at all. 
Marriage had opened her eyes and ears to new sights and sounds, to the new 
meanings of casual words, to the significance of dancing, to many things 
that made her shrink. 

She had danced with Larry every year at the picnic, had felt him and his 
hard masculine pressure-and had not realized in her innocence that she was 
arousing him. Of course, he had never before dared do what he had done 
tonight. She grimaced as she thought of it. The incident marred her 
enjoyment of Pete's nearness. 

At the house she said, "Pete, do come up to bed. I'm afraid the couch isn't 
comfortable." 

"It's all right. It's cooler downstairs." 

"But, Pete-" 

"Go on. You're probably tired." 

He smiled at her, and her heart lifted up hopefully. Maybe he would come up 
tonight. 

She went upstairs, took a quick shower, and donned the pretty nightgown that 
always aroused him. Then she went to bed. She heard Pete closing doors 
downstairs, heard him slam the refrigerator door. Her ears strained for any 
sounds that would indicate he was coming upstairs. 

Instead, she heard a murmur of voices. They seemed to come from outside. 
Curiosity made her get up. Maybe Karen was having a party. 

Gwen went barefoot to the window. She peered out at the side lawn between 
their house and the Marshall's. She gasped, and put her hand over her mouth. 

Karen was there. Gwen could see her clearly in the moonlight. She was 
wearing something shiny. Her hands were on her hips and she was swaying back 
and forth as she talked to a man. 

A man. Pete! Gwen gazed with incredulous horror. It was a nightmare. It 
couldn't be happening. Pete had his hands on Karen's waist. He was leaning 
forward. Now he was kissing Karen. Kissing that woman! 

The two figures moved close. In the moonlight they made one shadow. Gwen 
stared till her eyes were burning with tears. She blinked to see more 
clearly. 

The two kissed, held each other. Pete's arms were clear around that woman. 
Her arms went up around his neck. She was holding his head, kissing him, 
squirming against him. 

"But he's mine!" Gwen whispered, her hands clenched on her nightgown. "He's 
mine!" 

After a seeming age, the two figures moved. They walked, arms around each 
other, to some bushes. But Gwen could still see them even as they paused in 
the shadows. Eyes burning with tears of jealous rage, she watched them. 

Karen moved first. Her fingers worked around Pete's waist. Pete's shirt was 
taken off, then his pants. Gwen stiffened. She shook in the darkness of the 
room as she looked at the woman undressing her husband. 

Karen laughed huskily. Now Pete's hands moved. Karen's dress was pulled off 
her head. She wore nothing beneath. Bodies flashed in the moonlight and 
shadows. They sank to the grass. 

Gwen could not turn away. She stood like a statue as Pete made vigorous love 
to Karen. Karen's legs were pointing up to the sky. Pete's behind humped up 
and down, slowly at first, then faster and faster. 

Gwen chocked with envious fury. He should be doing that to her. He was her 
man. She was ready for him. Her thighs were warm and wet and eager. It 
wasn't fair, she raged inwardly. It was not fair! 

Pete fell over in the grass, and lay sprawling. Karen raised up, stretched 
lazily, then bent over him. Gwen saw Karen's hand clearly as it closed over 
Pete's limp penis. She worked at it, and kissed him and threw herself on 
him. In a few minutes they were locked in another embrace, this time with 
Karen on top. 

It was endless, horrible to Gwen, emotionally exhausting, as she stood at 
the window. On and on they went. Karen's white legs flashed. Her white body 
swayed faster, then abruptly she lay down on Pete and they were still, 
motionless, their legs sprawling in the moonlight. 

Then Karen moved and sat up. She stood up, and gazed down at Pete. Her hands 
were on her hips. She looked, thought Gwen, like a tigress gazing at the 
prey she had destroyed. 

Clearly, unmistakably, Gwen saw what happened next. Pete reached out one arm 
and took hold :of 'Karen's leg. He pulled, and Karen lay down with him. The 
two figures on the grass lay as one. 

Gwen turned away and staggered over to the bed. She bumped into the side of 
the bed and fell down on it. She was numb with shock, and very tired. 

She couldn't thing for a while. Finally her brain cleared. Pete loved Karen. 
That was why he no longer made love to her. That was why he refused to sleep 
with her. He loved Karen! 

He would want a divorce, thought Gwen, clutching the sheet. Pete would ask 
her for a divorce so he could marry Karen. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She 
felt empty, terribly alone. 

If only they had never followed Larry Crawford's advice and moved to the 
suburbs. It had been bad, bad for them. Everything had gone wrong. 

Married so short a time and already Pete loved another woman. It was 
incredible but it was true. Gwen had seen it with her own eyes. The image of 
the two nude figures on the grass, engaged in a savage sexual play, was 
burned on her mind. 

These people were not her kind, she thought, as she lay sleeplessly through 
the long night hours. They were not her kind. 

Not Karen- 

Not Larry- 

Nor ... nor Isobel with her tantalizing hands and provocative mouth and 
knowing fingers-Gwen sobbed aloud. But Pete was not near enough to hear her. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

The next day was Sunday. Pete slept till past noon, lying on the couch in 
the living room. Gwen peeped in at him a number of times. He was sprawling 
there in his shorts, legs limp, arms curled around his head, looking 
exhausted. 

When he finally woke up, he was cross, grumpy, complaining about the heat. 
But he said nothing about divorce. Gwen waited, a pain in her heart, sure he 
would speak. Pete said not a word about Karen, or love, or marriage, or 
divorce. 

Gwen was bewildered. She knew what she had seen. She had not imagined the 
frantic, sensuous scene on the lawn. Pete had made love to Karen as he had 
never made love to her, with a hungry fury, an insatiable appetite for more. 
And Karen had met him with hungers of her own. 

Night came; Pete slept on the couch again. Gwen lay awake for a while, then 
finally the weariness of her body won over the turmoil of her mind. She 
slept hard. 

When she awakened, the sun's rays were high over the bed. The house was 
silent. She got up and pattered barefoot halfway down the stairs. Pete was 
gone. It was past ten o'clock. 

Gwen sat on the stairs and pondered. She was more calm now that she was 
rested. There must be something here she did not understand, she thought. 

Maybe Pete didn't want a divorce. Maybe Karen didn't want to marry Pete. 
After all, Karen was married. And that crowd Gwen ran her fingers through 
her long, wavy brown hair. She tugged at a lock. That crowd. Did they make 
love to each other without wanting to get married? 

She went mechanically through the routine of the day. It was horribly hot. 
The temperature went up to 98 degrees and stuck. The humidity was almost 
that high. Gwen took another shower after lunch, and put on her thinnest, 
coolest housecoat with nothing under it. She stood before a mirror and 
looked at herself. But no one could possibly see through the red and white 
checked fabric, she decided. 

The doorbell rang. She jumped, and took one last look at herself before 
racing downstairs. If 

Isobel wanted to repeat what she had done, this time Gwen would refuse, 
coldly, firmly, like an adult who knew plenty. 

"Oh Don!" she said, staring at the tall blonde man in the doorway. Somehow 
she had not expected to see Isobel's husband. 

"Hi, Gwen. Are you okay?" 

"Oh sure fine. Come in." She stood aside rather uncertainly. 

He came in and sat down on the couch. She sat on the edge of an armchair. 

"We wondered about you and Pete when you didn't come to our party last 
Saturday." He smiled, his nice blonde face so open and innocent she was 
ashamed of her suspicions of the crowd. 

"Why, Pete and I went to a company picnic. Larry was there. We thought I 
mean I didn't even know you were having a party." 

"That's okay. I spoke to Pete, but he didn't mention having a picnic. Is he 
the type who gets all wound up in his work and forgets to eat and sleep?" 

"Yes, I'm afraid so." 

Don Hoover was so pleasant and casual that Gwen felt relaxed. She leaned 
back in the chair and let him talk about his own work. He ran a clothing 
store, he said. 

"Frankly, it bores me now. When I first started it, out here in the suburbs, 
I ran everything myself. Now that it's successful, I hire some guys to do 
the work and I get bored!" He shrugged and laughed. "The price of success." 

"Oh, but that's wonderful. To be so successful, I mean. You must have done 
awfully well." 

He smiled at her. "And you, baby," he said gently. "Are you doing well?" 

Tears sprang to her eyes at his unexpected question. She gazed at him 
dumbly, tears rolling down her cheeks. 

"Hey hey! I didn't mean to get you upset! What's wrong?" He jumped up and 
came over to her. He lifted her out of the chair and into his arms. "Hey 
there, sweetie. What's the matter? Pete been stepping out on you?" 

She nodded vigorously. He patted her head. His arms were sure and hard 
around her as he comforted her. 

"That Karen-dame, I'll bet," he said calmly. 

"How did you know?" she sobbed. 

He drew her over to the couch and pulled her down on his lap. Somehow she 
wanted to stay in his arms and be petted. She felt abused and wronged. 

"Suppose you tell me about it," he said. "Has Karen been chasing Pete since 
you moved out here?" 

"Yes. Since practically the first day. And she and he Saturday night oh, 
Don!" Gwen sobbed aloud. 

Don cuddled her in his arms like a child, and petted her. He said soothing, 
meaningless things that were very comforting. 

"There baby, honey-lamb. There, too bad, poor angel. Innocent lamb. Too bad. 
Just cry, honey. Too bad." He patted her head and her back, kissed her 
forehead, made her rest her face against his shoulder. 

It was so nice to be understood, she thought. Don was a nice guy. He was 
sweet and gentle. Not like Pete. Pete held grudges and was angry and rough. 
And Pete made love to Karen on the lawn. 

She had to tell Don about it. 

"Saturday, we went to the company picnic. And Pete has been mad at me. 
Because I said he was an animal. And I thought we'd make up that night. But 
he didn't come to bed." She hiccupped loudly, to her embarrassment. 

Don patted and rubbed her back vigorously. "Okay, baby?" 

"Yes." She sat up straight on his knees to talk better. "I heard voices. I 
looked out the window, and they were out there." She pointed dramatically to 
the side lawn. "Pete and Karen. And he kissed her. I mean, he started it!" 

She looked at Don's blonde face, so near hers. His blue eyes blinked. He 
nodded. 

"So then what did he do?" he encouraged. 

"He kissed her. And she kissed him. Then they went over in the bushes and 
and she took off his clothes-" 

"And I'll bet he took off her clothes." 

"Yes." She looked at Don suspiciously, but his face was serious, not 
mocking. "And then they did it." 

"Did what?" One of his hands rested casually on her knee. She could feel its 
heat through the thin housecoat. 

"Well I mean-" She felt hot blood come to her face. "He he made love to 
her." 

"Yeah. Then what?" 

"Then uh he lay down, and she she-" 

He was waiting, a questioning look on his face. She forced herself to 
finish. 

"She took hold of his his penis and and then she sat on him." 

"Uh-huh. That all?" 

"I saw them start in again and I went to bed." 

"Yeah. Well-" He paused thoughtfully. "I'd better tell you about Karen. 
She's a man-eater." 

"A what?" Gwen was startled. 

"You're cute," he said. 'Tour big brown eyes are so big!" He kissed her 
cheek with casual affection. "Listen, honey. Everybody knows Karen. Don't 
take her seriously. Don't panic. Karen goes after any man, and I mean she 
really goes after him. She wiggles her hips, and touches him, and gets him 
all hot in the pants. No matter how he feels about his wife, he gets so hot 
he has to have Karen. Get that?" 

She studied Don's face. "Did you I mean did you too? Want her, I mean?" 

"Oh, sure. A couple years ago. We had a wild affair for a few weeks," he 
admitted. "Then it cooled off. When anything is that hot, it has to get 
cool. Know what I mean?" 

She didn't know exactly, but she guessed it was something to do with what 
Isobel had said the other day. 

"And Karen doesn't really want to marry Pete?" Gwen asked. 

"Marry? Gosh, no, baby! Oh, you poor kid. Was that what you were worrying 
about?" 

She nodded. 

"No, honey. No! She goes after a guy till she gets him. Then she uses him 
hard wow, I mean hard. After that she gets bored. She discards the guy for 
the next one." 

"The next one?" Gwen found it hard to believe anyone could discard Pete for 
another man. 

"Sure. Believe me, there's always a next one. Or she goes back to Larry. 
They get hot for each other off and on." 

Gwen sat still, digesting all these strange and far-out ideas. The situation 
was so different from any she had ever imagined. For her, love meant 
marriage, faithfulness, never looking at another man. 

Yet here she was, she reminded herself. Sitting on the lap of another man. 

She had an attack of primness. "Well, I'm sure I thank you," she said 
stiffly. She started to get off his knees. His arms clamped around her 
firmly. 

"You know what I'd advise you to do?" he asked. 

"No. What?" 

"Be patient. Wait for Pete to get tired of her. He will. Meantime, have fun 
while you wait. He isn't the only guy in the world. And you're a cute 
bunny." 

Her senses had been strongly awakened the past few weeks. Last night she had 
wanted her man. Now, here was a man, with his arms around her, making a 
direct suggestion with his words, and indirect suggestions with his hands as 
he fondled her. 

She leaned back in his arms, her eyes half-shut. She didn't seem to be able 
to clear her mind to know right from wrong. Last night Pete had ignored her. 
The previous night he had made love with another woman. Today, why shouldn't 
Gwen make love with a man? 

Don's hands roamed gently over her body. He kissed her cheek. Easily he 
pushed her back so she lay across his knees. Her housecoat hiked up till the 
hem was midway up her thighs. Don smiled, and bent down. His bps brushed her 
cheek, then touched her mouth. His tongue licked her closed bps. 

"Honey," he whispered, "when I kiss you, open your mouth. I'll give you 
something sweet." 

Obediently she opened her lips. His open lips touched and clung. Then a hard 
wet probing tongue came into her mouth. Oh, it was sweet, sweet as hot 
honey. It rolled around in her mouth, probing to touch her tongue and teeth, 
the roof of her mouth. She almost choked with the cloying sweetness. 

He lifted his head. "Nice?" he whispered. 

She nodded dreamily. 

"This time, put your tongue in my mouth." 

His lips touched hers. Her small tongue darted out eagerly. She was curious 
about this new sensation. She probed slowly into his mouth, touching his 
tongue. His tongue snaked out and answered hers. They kissed, deeply. 

At the same time, one of his hands closed about one of her breasts. Through 
the thin material of the dress, he squeezed his warm fingers to bring the 
breast to burgeoning life. The nipple sprang to attention, perking up 
against his palm. She squirmed on his lap, her legs opening as she pulled 
herself closer. Her brain was spinning with all the delightful caresses. 

His hand left her breast. She tried to protest, but her mouth was full of 
his wet probing tongue. 

His fingers swiftly unbuttoned the housedress, down over the breasts, down 
to the waist, down to her hips. The big buttons were unfastened one by one. 
The fabric fell away from her body. She knew by the coolness as the breeze 
from the window struck her sweating naked body. 

"Oh oh no-" she tried to say. His mouth clung to hers. A heat between her 
thighs was melting her, and moisture was gathering there. She wiggled more 
vigorously. His hands were busy on her body. Each breast was being squeezed 
now. The firm pear-shaped mounds were big and swollen, the tips aching. 
Still he kissed her mouth, his tongue probing, his lips sucking heavily. 

She wanted him. She realized that, and fright mingled with heavy desire. She 
wanted this big blonde man, this stranger. She wanted his naked body pressed 
to hers, satisfying her keen awakened desires. 

She moaned, and thrashed her legs. He lifted his head. "Honey Gwen," he said 
thickly. His lips took one of the nipples. He kissed it, then his teeth 
closed firmly on the peak. He pulled upward. A delicious thrill shot through 
her. This was what she wanted Pete to do to her, she thought. Oh, Pete, 
Pete, Gwen thought. Oh, Pete. 

A hand inserted itself between her wet squirming thighs. Fingers probed. He 
touched the hard knob, the center of her femininity. 

"Ooooh," she groaned. "Ooooh ooooh-" 

"Like this?" he whispered. His flushed face was right above hers. He watched 
her face, and he was smiling as he probed deeper. "Like this, sweetie? 
Little bunny. Little soft sweet bunny rabbit." 

Pete, she thought. No, this wasn't Pete! This was Don! A stranger another 
man- 

She had to gather all her strength. She popped out of his arms like a kitten 
squeezed too tightly. She rolled off his knees onto the floor. He was up and 
after her, but she kicked him away. 

"No!" she yelled. "No! I won't!" She glared at him. 

His face was red. His masculine power was evident, all hard and swollen 
within the pocket of the trouser fabric. But he controlled himself. "Look, 
baby, we aren't hurting anybody . " 

"I love Pete," she said firmly. She got up. With shaking hands she started 
to button the housecoat. She didn't dare turn her back to him for fear he 
would grab her. She endured his stare at her waist and gbstening thighs as 
she buttoned hastily. 

"So you love Pete," Don said gently. "But he's chasing Karen. I can give you 
a good time, sweetie. And you want it. I can tell. Look." He showed her his 
right hand with which he had been probing between her thighs. The hand was 
wet. 

She flushed red-hot. "No!" she denied him. 

He shrugged. "Okay. Not today. But you will soon, I bet. A girl has needs, 
just as a man does. I can satisfy you, Gwen. I'm not bragging. I know I can 
satisfy you." 

She knew it, too. She knew it by the way he had caressed her and aroused her 
and made her want him. Looking at him right now, she wanted to unbutton the 
dress again and be down on the floor and say, "Okay, satisfy me." 

The impulse scared her. He was much more skilled at love-making than Pete 
but Pete was her husband. She resolved to be faithful to Pete, and wait for 
him to return to her. 

"No, Don," she said, more gently. "No. I love Pete." 

Don laughed softly. "I can wait, honey. You'll be ready soon. You're like a 
ripe peach, just begging to be picked and eaten. You're juicy and sweet and 
dripping with-" 

"Please go!" 

She went to the front door and opened it. Don went out laughing. 

And she wanted to cab him back! She slammed the door and sagged against it. 
She was shivering in the afternoon air. Shivering with unfulfilled desire. 

 CHAPTER SIX 

Gwen had plenty to think about now. All her ideas seemed to have gone 
spinning through the air in a mad gay frenzy, to land before her in a 
strange new form. Nothing was the same. She herself had changed. 

She lay awake at night, wanting her husband with such a fierce desire she 
was tempted to run downstairs and attack him! Days when he came home, she 
wished for the times when he had whispered, "Turn off the fires and come to 
the bedroom. Dinner can wait." 

But Pete was still sulking. Was he waiting for her to make the first move? 
Or was he so much in love with Karen that he didn't want his wife any more? 
Gwen worried about that, and the strangeness between them grew harder to 
dispel. 

The following Saturday night, the crowd met at the Crawford's. Gwen had 
never been inside the Crawford home, and she and Pete both gasped when they 
saw it. 

The house was set alone on a whole city block in the suburbs. It was 
surrounded by a fence, and the big gates were opened by a guard. 

"Wow!" Pete muttered. "I didn't know they lived like this." 

"Me, neither," Gwen quavered. She smoothed the skirt of her blue cotton 
dress with nervous fingers, and wished she had saved her good pink sheath 
for the occasion. 

Inside the house, Gwen stared at the long hallway, the gleaming redwood 
staircase, the open lighted rooms, chandeliers, paintings, thick rugs. 

"Gosh, Pete," she moaned. 

"Hush. We were invited," he whispered savagely. By the tight grip of his 
hand on her arm, she knew he was as nervous as she was. 

Barbara Crawford came to greet them. She wore a blue silk sheath, cut 
Chinese style, with a high mandarin collar, and a skirt slit to the thighs 
at the sides. She smiled, her gaze lingering on Pete. 

"We're both wearing blue, Gwen," she said. "I have a theory about colors. 
This day must be right for blue for people like us." 

She set Gwen at ease immediately, equating her blue silk with Gwen's blue 
cotton. 

"Your house it's so beautiful," Gwen said timidly. 

Barbara smiled, her eyes lighting. "Do you like it? I spend months at a time 
searching for just the right decorations. I had the drapes made, when I 
couldn't find just the right thing to go with those paintings." 

She pointed to several paintings on the walls of the large room. Gwen 
looked, and felt dizzy. She stared, unable to believe what she saw. 

The three paintings on one wall were in a series. In the first one, a girl 
in a thin transparent dress was being chased by a creature with the face of 
a man, the skin of an animal, the hoofs of a goat. He had a very large, very 
obvious masculine instrument. The next picture, he had caught the girl, and 
was ripping her dress. In the third picture, they were lying on the grass, 
and she wasn't fighting any more. Her naked white body was half hidden by 
the animal-like body of the man. 

"It's some myth," said Barbara. "Larry liked it, and he had some artist 
paint those for us." 

"Very pretty," said Gwen faintly. The paintings were so vivid, so graphic 
they were gross. They left nothing at all to the imagination. She turned 
away, to see Pete staring at the opposite wall. 

A single painting stretched from one end to the other, the picture of a 
nude, elongated, her pink and white body enormous. Huge breasts were topped 
with luscious cherry-red nipples. The soft curves of her belly melted into 
plump pink thighs. The brown curly hair around her face was echoed by brown 
curly hair between the thighs. 

"Uh great," said Pete, turning red. 

"I think you know everyone here," said Barbara. "Floyd is mixing drinks. How 
about a dance, Pete?" 

Gwen watched her hostess and her husband dance away from her. From the way 
Barbara was clinging to Pete, she must have seduction on her mind, thought 
Gwen, newly wise. Karen was not in sight. 

"Here you are, bunny rabbit!" It was Don at her side. He slipped his arm 
around her, and smiled down at her. "How are your scruples tonight, 
darling?" 

"AU in place," Gwen retorted. 

He chuckled, and drew her smoothly to the center of the bare floor. As they 
swayed to the music of the hi fi, he threatened softly, "I'm going to break 
down those scruples very soon. And you'll be glad I did." 

She saw over his shoulder the third painting of the "Myth" series, the 
goat-like creature lying on the girl. She shivered but was not sure if it 
was from alarm or anticipation. 

Karen appeared, with Jim Roth behind her. Gwen watched her warily from Don's 
arms. Karen looked at Pete, but didn't try to break in on Barbara's 
monopoly. Her green eyes were narrowed. She turned back to Jim and put a 
jeweled hand on his shoulder. Her body was encased in a green sleek sheath 
that rippled as she moved. 

Don drew Gwen closer. His lips brushed against hers. Gwen tried to draw 
away. Don kept a firm hand on her waist and held her. 

"We're just dancing, baby," he murmured, laughter in his voice. 

"I I'd like a drink," said Gwen, to get out of his arms. The sensations she 
was feeling were pleasant and dangerous. 

Obediently, he paused near the bar. Floyd Marshall mixed drinks for them. 
His balding head was covered with drops of sweat as he worked busily. Gwen 
wondered what he thought when he saw his beautiful wife Karen in the arms of 
other more attractive men. 

Larry came over as she finished her first drink. 

"My dance, Gwen," he said. 

She remembered what had happened as they had danced at the picnic. He seemed 
to be quite uninhibited at times. But she couldn't refuse her host. 

"My wife-likes your husband," said Larry in Gwen's ear. 

Gwen jerked. She looked around and saw Barbara dancing with Pete, both arms 
around his neck. Pete's face was red, his black eyes sparkling. Barbara's 
lithe form was pressed firmly to his tall lean body. 

"I'd be jealous if he wasn't married to you," Larry murmured. 

Gwen refused to speculate on all the hidden meanings in that remark. 

She danced with Larry, then with Arthur Stowell. Arthur was nicer tonight 
than usual, and was only mildly sarcastic. The evening began to spin past. 
She had another drink, and another. 

They played games. Gwen would have thought the games were childish except 
for the way they were played. 

In musical chairs, each man sat on a chair, and the girls sat on their laps. 
At the sudden pause in the music, the girls were supposed to jump up and 
find new partners before the music began again. But each time, the music was 
played for a long time. Gwen squirmed on the lap of Don Hoover, and he 
played frankly with her breasts till she was so hot she wanted to explode. 
It seemed ages till the music stopped. He held her too long, and by the time 
she got free and jumped up, all the men had girls on their laps. 

"I'm out," said' Gwen, with relief. She stood near the hi fi being operated 
by Floyd, and watched with fascination. 

Pete had Elbe Roth on his lap. The woman was squirming and playing around 
freely. Pete's hands went awkwardly to her waist to hold her. Elbe took his 
hands and placed them on her big melon breasts. Pete's face went even more 
red. But his large hands stayed there, fingers curved around the mounds. 

Later they played hide-and-seek. It was fun at first, in the big house. Gwen 
hid in a closet, and was one of the first ones found by Don. 

"Got you!" he cried. He grabbed her and kissed her mouth. "Now you have to 
come with me and find the others." 

She laughed and came with him, and they raced up the wide stairway. 

"This is a favorite place," Don whispered, and opened a door. A squeal 
greeted them. Gwen stared. 

Nola Stowell was leaning against the wall of the room. Larry Crawford was 
standing in front of her. They were very close. Gwen saw he had pulled up 
Nola's dress, and his hands were firmly on her bare waist. Nola peeked at 
Gwen and Don around Larry's arm. 

"Go away-" she said. "Oooh honey oooh-" 

Gwen swallowed. He was making love to her! As she stared, the two bodies 
jerked together. Nola's eyes closed in ecstasy. Her feet went up on tiptoe, 
one foot on either side of Larry's shoes. 

"Ooooh ooooh," cried Nola. "Sweet you're killing me oooooh-" 

Don laughed, and closed the door after them. "They're playing a game of 
their own," he said cheerfully. "Let's keep on looking, bunny." 

They found Pete, then Karen, then Floyd. All joined in the search for 
others. Up to the attic, down to the basement they went, peering in all the 
rooms. Gwen had never seen such a house, with such gorgeous, colorful 
furnishings, rugs, chairs, beds, drapes, elaborate bathroom fixtures. In one 
bathroom, they found Isobel. She wasn't alone. Arthur Stowell was sitting on 
the edge of the bathtub. Isobel was kneeling before him, her hands busy. 

"Oh!" gasped Gwen. Isobel didn't even look around. Her blonde head ducked 
down to the object her hands were caressing. Gwen bumped into Pete in her 
haste to get out. 

"Having fun, Isobel?" asked Don. He laughed when she didn't answer, and came 
out and closed the door. 

"Gosh Pete," Gwen whispered to her husband. 

"I know," said Pete. "No holds barred, huh?" 

But in spite of his light words, Gwen knew Pete was getting all stirred up. 
She brushed against him a moment before starting on. She felt under her 
seeking hand the hard ridge that told her Pete was aroused. 

They found Barbara hiding in a basement room, a pine-paneled playroom. She 
was laughing and pink-cheeked as they discovered her behind a screen. 

"I knew Pete would find me," she drawled, hooking her hand in Pete's arm. 

"It was your perfume," said Pete. 

She smiled, a slow languid smile up at him. Gwen stiffened with alarm as 
Pete put his arm around Barbara. 

All the sights were arousing her. They must be even more stimulating to 
Pete, thought Gwen, as the gang went back to the main room. Some began 
dancing again. Larry came back and claimed Gwen. 

"Hi, pretty one," he said. "I've been saving myself for you." 

Something made her retort boldly, "It didn't look that way to me!" 

He grinned down at her. "Oh, I didn't finish," he said casually. "I saw you 
come in, and something said to me, 'Larry boy, that girl is ready for you. 
Don't disappoint her.' So I pulled out of Nola and saved myself for you." 

Gwen was stunned at his frank language. She turned red, swallowed, could not 
answer. The images he made in her mind blended with the very images of what 
she had just witnessed. 

Larry drew her closer, pulled her over to the corner. His seeking hands went 
to her waist, down lower. He pressed himself against her. 

"No," said Gwen faintly. 

"Yes, honey, oh, yes, very, very yes," he said. His mouth kissed the side of 
her neck, under her ear. His lips opened. She felt his teeth nibble at her 
ear. A wild thrill went through her. She stood still as he kissed her, 
licked at her flesh, bit gently from her ear lobe down her neck to her 
shoulder. His hands were not idle. He caressed her buttocks through her 
dress. Then he whipped up the full skirt. His big warm hands clamped on her 
rounded buttocks through the thin panty-girdle. She squirmed in his arms. He 
only came closer. 

She felt his hardness pressing on her belly. Then he bent lower. One foot 
slid between her feet, forcing her legs open. He stooped and maneuvered 
deftly. Through the barrier of their clothes, she felt his masculinity 
pushing upward to her soft, wet, feminine need. 

She gasped for breath, and heat rushed through her. Larry bit her neck. It 
reminded her of the way a stallion bit his mare as they mated in the 
pastures. The stallion's teeth would snap at the mare's neck as she stood 
with nostrils flaring, eyes rolling in fright as the stallion forced her 
around, then mounted her from behind. Gwen could see, behind closed eyes, 
the mare, with lowered head, panting, as the stallion worked at her. 

Larry said, "Come upstairs with me!" It was an order. Blindly she began to 
obey him. He caught her hands, drew her with him toward the door. 

Then she saw Pete. Barbara's arms were around his neck. She was swaying with 
him, hips in an erotic dance of their own. She was drawing him toward the 
door also. 

"What am I doing?" Gwen muttered. "Pete!" she said aloud. "Pete!" 

Pete turned a dazed red face toward her. 

Larry said crossly, "Oh, come on, Gwen. Don't be coy!" 

"I we have to go home," said Gwen. She broke free from Larry and grabbed 
Pete's arm desperately. "Pete, we we have to go home!" 

For a moment, she thought Pete would not come. He stared at her, at Barbara, 
at Gwen again. 

"Oh yes. We have to go," he agreed thickly. 

"No, you don't have to go," said Barbara gently. "Come on, Pete. Come with 
me." 

But Pete went with Gwen. She gave a big sigh as they ran out the door. 
Pete's arm was around her. She was safe, she thought. Safe with Pete. And 
Pete was safely with her. 

"Let's go home," she said. "I want oh, Pete I want you!" 

He grabbed her in the darkness outside the big house. His hands were rough, 
but she gloried in the roughness. He kissed her mouth. 

"And I want you like crazy," he said. "Let's get home before I bust wide 
open!" 

"I can't wait," she said, cheerfully brazen. 

They raced for the car, laughing with sheer delight and anticipation. 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

Once safely in their own house, Gwen and Pete ran up to the bedroom. They 
didn't stop to turn on any lights. Up the dark stairs, along the hall, to 
the bedroom they went, desire raging inside them. 

In the bedroom, Pete said thickly, "Hurry up, Gwen. Hurry-" 

He was ripping off his clothes. She unfastened her dress, hung it up neatly, 
her hands shaking. Tonight tonight tonight, she thought dazedly. No more 
walls between them. No more coldness. 

Pete was undressed first. Instead of lying down, he came over to her. 

"You're so slow," he growled, with mock anger. His hands caught hold of the 
elastic band of her panty-girdle and he began drawing it down over her 
thighs. She was struggling with a brassiere clasp, and was helpless to stop 
him. 

She felt cool air strike her warm, wet thighs. His hands caressed her naked 
buttocks. Then he pulled the girdle lower over her knees, down her legs. She 
stepped out of it, stumbling as her foot caught. 

Pete held her legs, kneeling before her. His hot face pressed unexpectedly 
against her thighs. She gasped aloud as he kissed her intimately. He had 
never done this before. 

"Pete Pete!" 

"Honey honey-sweet," he answered. His big hands cupped her buttocks and 
squeezed them hard. She was melting away in liquid fire as he kissed her. 

The brassiere clasp finally gave way. She let the garment fall from her 
shoulders, and flung it away in the darkness. She held Pete's head to steady 
herself as he kept on kissing her. Her fingers gripped his curly hair 
savagely. 

She did not know herself. She felt more alive and vital than at any time in 
her life before. She was a ferocious tigress wanting her mate. She wanted 
him to be fierce and demanding with her. 

He seemed to sense her need. He stood up and pulled her to the bed. She felt 
across the bed sideways. He caught her ankles in his hands and drew her legs 
apart. Then he came up on the bed and loomed over her, a dark shadow in the 
dimness. 

His heat covered her. His hard flesh penetrated hers. This time it was 
welcome. He slid smoothly into her softness, and it didn't hurt. The 
hardness met softness and became harder and bigger as it went. Smoothly 
sliding up and in, high and far farther high tight, oh, tight, tight and 
good and high- 

He lay on her and his mouth bit at her breasts. Her full pears of breasts 
were bitten and kissed and licked, and he was inside her and part of her, 
and it was so marvelous. She moaned and stretched herself to take him more 
and more. Her legs went up into the air, pointing at the ceiling, feet 
curling in ecstasy as he drove in again and again. 

No pain tonight, no waiting in agony for torture to be over. 

Sweetness, hotness, fiery balls, stars and shooting comets of flame and 
crying out in the night, and holding, hugging, wanting more and getting more 
much more- 

She hit the peak of ecstasy and her insides throbbed madly. Pete stayed on 
her, and when the quivering subsided, he drove again, again until she shook 
and cried out once more. 

Twice she was in climax, and then again a third time, before Pete relaxed, 
fell over her, and let his own passion blend with hers in spurting release. 

Now she felt one with him as the shooting liquid sprayed deep inside, and 
her husband spent his force with all his masculine intensity. It was good, 
so very good, she could have cried with delight. Tears did come to her eyes, 
and rolled down her cheeks. She was so happy, so relieved and spent and 
relaxed. 

He finally rolled off and lay still, taking deep gasping breaths. Gwen lay 
limp, arms and legs sprawled. 

Pete laughed softly. Gwen finally stirred, and put one hand on his warm 
chest. "What?" she asked. 

"Us. Sleeping apart. All the time we could have been doing this." He rolled 
over on his side and put a big hand boldly between her wet thighs. 

"Oh, yes. Weren't we silly?" She was still gasping for breath. His hand was 
caressing her lovingly, daringly. She knew he would want her again soon, but 
tonight that thought didn't make her cringe. It made her happy and excited! 

"Silly. I was stupid. Not knowing how to get you excited." He was panting, 
his chest heaving after his exertions. His hard finger touched the knob of 
her clitoris and played a moment with the sensitive button. 

"Ooooh," she said. "Ooooh honey I'll go right off-" 

"Then I'll slow down," he said, and they laughed with delight at their 
new-found knowledge. "You know, it was the smartest thing we could have 
done, moving out here, getting in with the gang. 

I've learned more about sex in the past couple weeks than I ever did in my 
life." 

She was suddenly silent, her pleasure abruptly marred by the memory of Pete 
and Karen in the yard, lying naked in the moonlight. 

Pete stroked her belly, his hand cupping the smooth curves of her low body. 

"You know, honey, I love you so much," he said softly. "It didn't mean to 
hurt you when I web I didn't know I was hurting you. I was a dope. Never 
realized a girl had to be warmed up first." 

She drew closer to him, relieved. "I love you too, Pete," she murmured. "I 
wanted to make you happy, but I didn't know how." 

"We were both inexperienced when we got married," he said, thoughtfully. He 
drew her to his body so her curves cuddled into his hardness. She snuggled 
to meet him, contented. "This gang they really know the score. We needed 
this sort of an education. You know what I mean?" 

"Urn. Knowing what to do. Learning how to like this." 

"That's it. Education in sex and life. Life is a good part sex. You really 
have to enjoy sex and get plenty of it if you want to enjoy life." 

She frowned a little against his shoulder. Whose philosophy was that? 
Karen's? For a minute she resented the fact that his "education in sex" had 
been learned from such a teacher as the red-haired woman. Yet Pete had 
returned to 

Gwen. He said he loved her. He was using his "education" to bring her 
delight and ecstasy. 

"We were pretty green, you have to admit," said Pete happily. "Luckiest 
thing that could have happened, for us to meet this gang." 

"Yes, lucky. Of course-" Gwen paused, wording her warning with caution. "We 
we don't want to get too involved with them. I mean having sex with them, 
and all that," she added, with fake casualness. 

Silence. Pete's chest was moving up and down under her cheek. Was it her 
imagination, or did his heart beat faster? She waited anxiously for his 
answer. 

"We're not under any obligation," Pete said finally. "Of course, we should 
have the gang over here when our turn comes. Stock plenty of liquor." 

"Yes. Sure," said Gwen. He had not really answered her. Did he mean to keep 
playing with Karen and Barbara and the others? Did he mean for Gwen to let 
Don and Larry really make love to her? Somehow she couldn't ask him, because 
she dreaded his answer. He might say yes, he wanted her to have experiences 
and receive more "education" in sex. 

Pete stretched. Movement rippled through his long lean body, so close to 
hers. 

"Yep, it's a good thing we moved here. Well never be bored," he said. "Hey 
honey honey do you feel like more?" His hand patted her flank. 

He had changed, she thought. In the early days of their marriage, he 
wouldn't have asked. He would have grabbed and taken. But the experiences 
with other women had made him more considerate. Gwen decided bravely that 
she should be grateful to the other women, not jealous of them. 

"Yes, I want more," she said. 

Pete chuckled with pleasure. "Then more you shall get!" He rose up and bent 
over her. 

She lay on her back to receive him. He kissed her and teased her, petting 
her with his hands. 

"So you want more," he kidded happily. "And you'd get lots more. But in good 
time. First I have to kiss here and here-" He trailed kisses over her neck 
and shoulders, down one arm. It tickled. Besides, she was hot and ready. She 
squirmed and lifted her hips pleadingly. 

"Honey, Pete, don't fool around! I'm ready," she panted. Her legs were 
apart, her knees clasped his lean thighs. She kept raising herself, trying 
to capture his hard instrument. He deftly evaded her. 

"No, I want to kiss you first. like this and this right here-" He caught a 
nipple in his mouth and bit it with hard teeth. She wiggled. He pulled her 
breast upward, and the swollen burgeoning breast ached with her desire. 

He teased her with caressing hands that stroked her waist and thighs. His 
fingers tickled her sides. 

She jerked and begged him breathlessly to stop. He only laughed. 

She felt warm liquid gathering at her thighs. She was so ready she could 
have raped him. But she couldn't reach the masculine instrument because he 
kept it just out of her reach. 

He nuzzled his face against her breast. His chin was scratchy against her 
soft silkiness. 

"Do you want me?" he whispered. "Do you really want me?" 

"Oh, yes oh, yes, please, Pete-" she begged. 

He laughed, pleased. He kept holding off. In desperation she grabbed with 
one hand. She found his hardness and pressed it to her. To her relief he 
came. He let her insert the point. 

"Ah, ah," she breathed, lying back. 

He pulled out. 

"Oh, Pete please! Honey, darling, sweetheart ! " 

He gave in and settled down on her. With delight, she felt the hard point 
penetrating her liquid flesh. In and in and in, a smooth high stroke, up to 
the limit. Then beyond and far beyond. And up high he touched the quivering 
fragile womb itself. 

They lay in silence together, tightly clasped. He was deep in her, close, 
dght, big and swollen and wonderful in her. She lay with eyes tight shut, 
savoring the delicious ecstasy of this time of oneness with him. With Pete 
in her arms, so close and tight in her, she couldn't believe anyone could 
ever separate them. He belonged to her, she belonged to him, they belonged 
to each other. 

Pete began a slow rolling motion, infinitely delectable. She responded with 
her hips in a moving, quivering wiggle. They moved in experimental little 
motions to increase pleasure. The movements became larger and longer and 
wilder, until Pete was thrusting in long in-and-out strokes that seemed to 
pierce her to the heart. 

Ecstasy burst in her. Her hips trembled with the force of it. She half 
blanked-out as something inside her squeezed, released, squeezed, released, 
over and over. Pete thrust in a long, slow, final movement, deep to the 
walls of her, and lay still while liquid burst from him. She felt him 
tremble with the forces driving him, and she held him close with weak, tired 
arms and legs till it was over. 

They slept in each other's arms, worn out with their exertions. Toward 
morning, Gwen wakened when a cool wind struck her naked body. She drew up a 
sheet to cover them both, then paused to gaze frankly with pleasure at the 
body of her sleeping husband. 

He was long and lean and tan. His black curly hair framed his oval tanned 
face. Long black lashes covered his eyes. 

"I want a baby just like him," Gwen thought, and blushed to herself. But she 
did want a son. Just like Pete. With' Pete's face and eyes and strong hands. 

Her gaze roved over him possessively. His chest was wide and covered with 
tight curly black hairs to his waist. His thighs were lean and hard, and she 
knew the force of them from experience. Tenderly she gazed at the object, 
now limp, that had given her so much pleasure a few hours before. It was so 
big and bold and hard when he wanted her. Her fingers touched it very 
gently, and it began to rise in her hand. 

Pete stirred, and wakened, his eyes blinking with sleep. He caught her 
gazing at him, and his sleepiness vanished abruptly. 

"Hey there, wife," he said. 

"Hey there," she answered. She knew her face was fiery red. She boldly 
cupped the object of her desires and squeezed with gentle fingers. It was 
growing bigger fast. 

Pete smiled up at her, his black eyes knowing. 

"You're getting to be a smart little wife," he said. 

"I know what I like," said Gwen. 

He laughed. "Then climb aboard," he invited. 

She hesitated. 

"Come on," he urged. 

Awkwardly, she climbed on, and he helped her seat herself on him. Then he 
gave her a rocking-chair ride right up to heaven. 

As they played and laughed and enjoyed each other, Gwen thought how foolish 
she had been to worry about the suburban gang. They were smart. They knew 
all about life and sex. This was really living. She rocked harder, and 
laughed down into Pete's sparkling black eyes. 

 CHAPTER EIGHT 

After a delicious, lazy Sunday with Pete, Gwen found it hard to do housework 
again. She had tasted the delights of marriage, and she wanted more and 
more. But Pete had to go back to work. And Gwen had to do the laundry and 
get groceries and cook meals and clean house. 

She was ready for a change in the routine when Barbara Crawford phoned on 
Tuesday. 

"Isobel and I are going to a fashion show tomorrow," said Barbara's cool 
voice. "We thought you might enjoy it." 

"Oh, I'd love to, but-" Gwen hesitated. "I don't really want to buy 
anything." She blushed because she sounded so naive even to herself. 

"I hardly ever buy at these things myself," said Barbara. "And the lunch is 
on me." 

"Oh, I'll pay for my-" 

"No, no, it's my treat," said Barbara. 

Later Isobel phoned, and Gwen blurted a confession of her stupidity. 

"I don't know what to say. I didn't mean I couldn't afford lunch-" 

Isobel reassured her. "It's okay. Barbara always treats. She-likes to. She 
has pots of money. She hates going alone to things. She won't like it if you 
try to pay." 

"I felt such a fool-" 

"Don't we all sometimes!" said Isobel warmly. "Don't be a goose. Just come 
along and enjoy yourself." 

On Wednesday, Barbara stopped for Gwen. Her car was a huge black Cadillac, 
so luxurious that Gwen gasped as she sat down on the smooth seat in back. 
Isobel was already in the car. 

She soon found out why Barbara had invited her. On the long ride to the city 
both girls had little "words of warning" for her. 

Barbara began, "We just wanted to speak to you about something, Gwen." 

Gwen had been looking with pleasure at the luxurious fittings of the car. 
Barbara was driving along the highway at a high rate of speed, her 
white-gloved hands firmly on the wheel. 

"Ah yes," said Gwen uneasily. 

"You and Pete are part of the crowd now. You're really darlings, both of 
you. But we must warn you." 

Isobel turned her blonde head and sent a quick flashing smile at Gwen. "For 
your own good, as everybody says," she commented cheerfully. 

Gwen's answering smile was stiff. She clutched her pocketbook with cold 
hands. The Cadillac was air-conditioned, and seemed chilly after the warmth 
outside. "About what?" 

"No one in the gang should be selfish," said Barbara. "Otherwise things 
don't go smoothly. Pete's an attractive man. You're a lovely girl. When you 
run out and go home at midnight, it just looks bad. You know?" 

Gwen felt more and more cold. She stared blindly out the windows at the rows 
of identical houses in a suburban section as they passed. 

"I tried to tell you, Gwen," Isobel said, when Gwen remained silent. "I told 
you we girls wanted a chance to make over Pete. He's a real doll." 

"Terrific masculine attractiveness," Barbara drawled. "I go for him. Now, 
the other night, he was all set to respond when you dragged him away. How do 
you think I felt?" 

"It wasn't fair," said Isobel plaintively. 

Gwen swallowed. Her throat was so dry she couldn't speak. 

Barbara glanced up at the rear-view mirror, to look at Gwen. 

"Don't be upset," she admonished kindly. "You haven't been married long. You 
don't realize how bored a woman gets with her own husband. A girl really 
needs a change." 

"Variety is the spice of life," Isobel chirped helpfully. 

They meant it. They really meant it! Gwen began to realize the extent of the 
trading that went on in the gang. If a man wanted a girl, or a girl wanted a 
man fine. Go to bed. Have fun. Get some spicy variety. Then on to the next. 

She rubbed her throat fiercely till she could speak. "I didn't understand," 
she said hoarsely. 

Barbara smiled. "I thought you didn't. Isobel and I decided we'd give you a 
little warning. I'm sure Pete is willing to go along with us. Larry thought 
you needed some persuasion. He's hot for you, by the way." 

"So is Don." said Isobel, as coolly as though she were not speaking of her 
own husband. "Don is just about crazy to make love to you. He told me all 
about it on Sunday, for hours! I finally told him to be quiet and I'd see 
what I could do." 

Barbara and Isobel laughed. Gwen sat frozen as the girls began to speak of 
the fashion show, fall clothes, the new colors for fall. Her mind was in a 
turmoil of doubt, confusion, and desire. 

Yes, she had to admit it. She felt desire for Don and for Larry. They were 
both experienced men, charming, able to please a girl. And they knew things. 
They knew what to do to make a girl know the keenest of pleasures. 

Gwen plucked nervously at her skirt. Pete wanted to make love to other 
girls. In fact, Gwen knew he had made love to Karen. She had seen him do it. 
Perhaps he had made love to Barbara, to Isobel. She glanced at the smooth 
blonde heads in front of her, as though the heads could reveal whether Pete 
had caressed them or not. 

Pete wanted to make love to others. 

Gwen wanted to find out what Don and Larry could teach her. 

Was it wrong? Were all her early teachings wrong? 

She tried to survey the facts dispassionately. But one fact stood out. Early 
in her marriage, Pete had hurt her with his love-making. Now, since they 
both knew more, Gwen enjoyed Pete's actions. 

So was the experience good? 

Should they indulge in more? 

In spite of her reluctance, her mind was stirred at the thought of what Don 
and Larry might teach her. The mysteries of sex were vast. Maybe maybe she 
could learn a great deal more, have even more wonderful tunes with Pete! 

Gwen was silent and thoughtful through the fashion show and the delicious 
lunch that accompanied it. She also had a couple of daiquiris which made her 
feel more relaxed and amenable. 

On the way home, she told the girls, timidly, 'I'll think about what you 
said. I don't want to be a wet blanket at the parties." 

Isobel smiled warmly at her. Barbara nodded approvingly. 

"That's the spirit," said Barbara. "If you'll just relax and have a good 
time, things will go much smoother. And I'm sure Pete will appreciate your 
unselfishness. Men like to stray a bit, if they just aren't made to feel 
guilty about it. He'll love you all the more because of it." 

At home, Gwen thought over what the girls had said. It made sense. Men did 
like to stray. Pete had already strayed with Karen, in spite of the fact 
that he said he loved Gwen. 

Maybe happiness, Gwen decided, was facing the facts of life and getting 
along as well as you could with them. Understand that a man liked several 
women even when that man loved just one. 

Pete made love to her nights, and it was heavenly to lie in his arms. She 
was blissfully happy. Only the memory of Karen, and what the other girls had 
said remained to nag her. 

Then on Saturday, Pete mowed the yard. It was a hot hot day in early July. 
He had stripped to his shorts and sandals, and looked, Gwen admitted, a 
magnificent specimen of manhood. She peeped out the window several times 
just to see him striding along behind the power mower. His tanned skin 
glistened in the sunlight. The black curly hair of his head, his chest and 
his legs made her want to run out and touch him. She ached for him. 

Later, she heard voices. The power mower had stopped. Gwen was upstairs, 
making the large bed. She peeped out the window, half-hiding behind the 
curtains. 

"Karen!" she muttered. Her blood pressure started upward. 

The red-haired woman wore only the briefest of bikinis. A small triangle of 
cloth cupped each breast, the thinnest of straps held the cloths in place 
over the magnificent full mounds. Another small triangle covered her mound 
of Venus, with a small strap holding that in place. Gold sandals completed 
the outfit. If she had been naked, she could not have looked more outrageous 
to Gwen. 

All of Barbara's and Isobel's arguments for unselfishness flew out of Gwen's 
head. She was furiously, ragingly jealous as Pete leaned on the handle of 
the mower and smiled down at the near-naked woman. 

Karen put her hands on her naked hips and swayed back and forth on her gold 
sandals. Her body rippled with sensuous movement as she displayed herself to 
Pete. She flipped back her red hair, and once she reached out and put her 
hand on Pete's chest. 

"Oh, that female! Oh, that bitch! Chasing my man! Oh, the gall of her!" 

As Gwen glared angrily at the scene, she became aware of movement. She 
glanced across the lawn to the next house. In a window on the second floor 
stood a man, balding, short, red-faced. He too was looking at Karen and 
Pete, watching them for a long time. 

Gwen wondered what Floyd Marshall was thinking as his gorgeous wife flirted 
openly with an intensely attractive man. Did he seethe with anger? Or was he 
calmly accustomed to her flirtations, knowing she always returned to him? 
She wished she could talk to Floyd and find out some answers. But it was 
difficult to talk to him. He smiled nervously when approached, and slid away 
at the first distraction. 

Gwen's attention returned to Karen and Pete. Pete had started the mower 
again. Karen walked along beside him as he worked. They were not talking 
now. They were simply together, walking beside each other, two tremendously 
attractive people. 

It frightened Gwen to see them. And fright made her foolish, she realized 
later. 

When Pete came in for lunch, Gwen flew at him furiously. 

"I wish you wouldn't make such a fool of yourself over that woman!" 

"Huh what-" Pete scowled down at Gwen. 

"That Karen! I saw you! She was falling all over you!" 

Pete was red under his tan. "I have to wash up," he said sullenly, and 
stalked to the sink. He splashed water over his arms and chest, then reached 
for a towel. 

"She's brazen!" Gwen complained. "That outfit! Why, she might as web be 
naked!" 

"You sound like a country girl," sad Pete roughly. "That's what 
sophisticated women wear." 

Gwen gasped at the shock, then plunged in again. "I don't like for her to 
chase you like that! Ah the neighbors could see-" 

"Well, let them look! All we did was talk!" Pete sat down and glared at 
Gwen. "Any other complaints?" 

"Plenty!" she shot back. Fright, the idea of losing him, made her reckless. 
"You liked being chased by that red-haired female! Well, I don't like it! 
You're my husband, and-" 

"You don't own me!" Pete roared. 

"What?" She stared at him. 

"I said you don't own me! Marriage isn't a slave agreement. I'm free to do 
as I please!" 

She swallowed. "And and I'm free to do as I want," she asserted, not very 
happily. 

"Sure you are. Have I stopped you? Have I ever once said don't to you? Have 
I told you not to let Don or Larry screw you?" 

He hadn't. No, he had never protested about their attentions. Limply, she 
sat down on the chair opposite Pete. 

"But Pete, we belong to each other." she pleaded. 

"That doesn't mean we can't have fun! And I mean to have plenty." 

His words chilled her. She sat silent then as he ate hurriedly. He went out 
again, and she heard his voice and Karen's. 

Gwen thought, "I don't want to lose Pete. But if I hold on too tight, I may 
lose him anyway. What is the right thing to do?" 

And something added, "Don finds you attractive. Larry wants you. He's hot 
for you. Why don't you have fun? You have a right to be free! Pete takes his 
pleasure where he finds it! Why don't you?" 

"Why don't I?" Gwen echoed mournfully. 

 CHAPTER NINE 

Gwen didn't feel much like going to a party that night. Pete stayed sullenly 
angry at her. She was furious with him for encouraging Karen's attentions. 

But they had told Isobel and Don Hoover they would be there. Gwen decided it 
would be easier to go than risk another fight with Pete. 

Gwen bathed, and dressed in a blue sheath dress. Pete made no comment on how 
good she looked. His dark eyebrows seemed to be drawn in a permanent scowl. 
In silence he drove them to the Hoover's house. 

The house was much like theirs, five blocks away in the same plat. Isobel 
greeted them at the door. 

"Come in, darlings. It's going to be a fun night," she cried. "I can feel it 
in my bones. We're going to have a great time!" She looked significantly at 
Gwen. 

Gwen smiled weakly. She felt cross, depressed, apprehensive. She wanted to 
turn around and run home but not without Pete. And Pete had already gone in 
and was speaking to Karen. 

Isobel tucked her hand in Gwen's arm. "Relax," she whispered. "You'll love 
it, once the ice is broken. Don is just crazy to have you. Have a drink and 
enjoy yourself." 

Gwen accepted the drink. By the time she had swallowed it, Don was at her 
side, gazing at her eagerly. He was very attractive, she admitted, with his 
blonde hair and blue eyes and charming ways. 

She looked around for Pete, but he was dancing with Karen. The red-head was 
fastened tightly to Pete's shoulder, the slinky silver sheath seemed molded 
to his lean form. 

Gwen abandoned herself to Don's arms. They danced till the music stopped. He 
held her tightly, and muttered wild things in her ears. 

"You've got me crazy for you," Don whispered. "I'm going out of my mind. 
You're so cute, you're so sweet. Don't get me all worked up tonight, then 
walk out! I swear I'll come right after you and take you on the street." 

"What would the neighbors say?" asked Gwen, with false calm. 

He laughed, and hugged her tighter. "They'll be jealous," he said. "You're 
so pretty, they'll be mad with jealousy." 

Isobel stopped the dancing so they could play games. First they played the 
old game of Spin the Bottle, and Gwen was thoroughly kissed as the bottle 
stopped in front of her time and again. 

Someone suggested post office. They started playing, but with a new twist. 
When a fellow called a girl, they disappeared into a bedroom and didn't 
return for a long time. The game went on without them. 

Gwen soon realized what was happening. When her name was called by Arthur, 
she answered sweetly, "Oh, I'm not playing just now. You go on without me 
while I get a drink!" 

The girls laughed. The men protested. Pete gave Gwen a long puzzled look. 
She ignored them all and went over to the bar. Floyd handed her another 
daiquiri. 

"That's the one you want, isn't it?" he asked. 

"Yes, thanks, Floyd." She sat down near the bar to drink, and to observe the 
game as it got wilder. The bedrooms were soon full. Don took Elhe into the 
hallway to kiss her. Gwen could see their embrace. It was just short of 
complete. 

In spite of her doubts and fears, Gwen was beginning to be stirred by the 
sights and sounds of the excited couples. Larry came back with Nola, both 
looking mussed, and Larry claimed Isobel to dance with. 

Changing of partners was frequent. Gwen saw 

Pete with Karen, then with Barbara. Barbara danced with Pete in a close 
embrace, then Gwen saw them move toward the door. They disappeared, and soon 
a bedroom door upstairs closed with a bang. 

Gwen had another drink. Presently she didn't hurt so much inside. She felt 
carefree and defiant. Pete was having a good time, enjoying himself. Well, 
so would she. 

Don came over to her. "How about this dance, honey?" he asked. 

She staggered getting up. He caught her in his arms. 

"Oooh, I'm dizzy," she complained. She laughed, in a shrill high tone. 

Don laughed, too. His blonde face was knowing. He drew her closer and danced 
slowly around the room with her. 

"Are you getting warm, little bunny?" he whispered. "Are you getting a 
little bit hot, bunny-rabbit?" He patted her smooth rounded buttocks, then 
let his big hand rest on her thigh. 

She did feel hot, rather feverishly hot. Her feet moved automatically. She 
was in a dream or a nightmare. All the figures in the rooms were blurs of 
movement and sound. She heard the rustle of silk, giggles, masculine 
murmurs, the sound of a closing door. 

"Honey," whispered Don, his lips brushing her cheek. "Honey, I'm so wild for 
you-" 

His hips ground against hers. And she wanted him. It was as simple as that. 
She felt heat, desire, passion. He could satisfy her. 

She let her left arm close around his neck. Her right hand squeezed his. 

"Do you think you can find an empty bedroom?" she asked, and giggled, 
because she was lost and frightened and empty inside. 

"Let's go!" Don drew her to the door and into the hallway. In passing, she 
saw Larry's dark amused face, the gleam in his eyes. 

Don drew her up the stairs, past a closed door, along the upstairs hallway 
to the back of the house. They went into a bedroom, and Don kicked the door 
shut. 

He was panting and laughing. "I've been waiting for you oh, baby I'm about 
crazy-" He lifted the hem of her dress and tried to pull it off. 

"The zipper," she reminded him. His unsteady fingers unzipped the fastener 
down her back. The dress fell from her shoulders. His big hands pushed it 
further down, till the blue dress lay in a heap at her feet. Then he pulled 
down the white half-slip. 

Now she wore only a brief brassiere and a panty-girdle. Don's breath was hot 
on her neck as he unfastened the brassiere. It fell away from her 
pear-shaped breasts. He cupped a mound in each hand and squeezed hard. She 
drew a deep trembling breath as he pressed himself against her from behind. 

His lips moved on the flesh of her neck and shoulders. He was muttering 
something. She held herself stiffly, fighting the inclination to return the 
pressure of his body. The last remnants of her reluctance were being ripped 
away. 

His hands went to the elastic band of the panty-girdle. He drew down the 
garment, unfastened the garters, pulled off the pants and stockings as his 
hands went down over her long slim legs. Then he knelt at her naked back. 
His lips pressed passionately to the curve of her buttocks. 

She was shaking. He drew her over to the bed and pushed her gently down. His 
blonde face gleamed in the dim light of the one lighted lamp. 

"Just a minute, baby," he said hoarsely. "Just one minute." 

He ripped off his own clothes, and it did take just one minute, or a little 
less. Then he joined her on the wide bed. 

She knew a moment of fear as the blonde man knelt between her parted legs. 
This was not Pete. This was not her man, her husband. This was a stranger. 
He had no right to do this! 

She struggled briefly when the tip penetrated. But Don's arms were tight 
around her. His lips were pressed to her breast. His hot body held her 
firmly in place and his hips were fluidly in motion before she had her 
forces marshaled for resistance. 

He stabbed in deeply. She gasped, and her struggles ceased. A long thrusting 
motion completed her conquest, and Don was in possession. 

He held her there, high, for a long time. Their bodies writhed slowly on the 
bed, only enough to increase their pleasure in the sensuous, sinuous sliding 
of flesh on flesh. Gwen had never felt such and embrace. Pete always moved 
so vigorously, so quickly. Don was slow, thoroughly at home in her body, 
making the embrace last for what seemed an age of delight. 

His lips bit in a series of caresses across her shoulders and breasts. His 
fingers played on her back, up and down her spine, making her shiver in 
convulsive pleasure. His hips began a gentle shaking movement that was 
pleasing at first, then wonderful, then so blazingly ecstatic she could 
scarcely endure it. 

She could feel the tension building up. She was going up, and up, and up 
high. She moaned, and Don pressed his lips to her throat. 

"Okay, sweetie. Let's hit the top," he said. He drew back, then thrust 
forward, back and forth, again and again in long powerful movements. She 
cried out, and gripped him hard with her fingers in clawing abandon. Her 
legs shot up high in the air, her feet twisting and wriggling with the 
delight. Don was finishing in her. The hot liquid of masculine completion 
was a flood tide. She moaned with final ecstasy and fell back. 

Then she opened her eyes, because she sensed someone else was there. Over 
Don's blonde head, resting on her breast, she saw the dark gleaming face of 
Larry Crawford. He was gazing at her, and she sensed at once that he had 
been there in time to see the end. 

A hot flush blazed through her, the blood racing through her body. She tried 
to raise up, but Don's limp body pinned her down. 

Larry waited. Don moved, sat up, rubbing his face, yawning. 

"I'm next. Scram," said Larry to Don, pleasantly.' 

"Right-o." Don yawned again widely. "She's great. Just great." He patted 
Gwen's hip affectionately, and got up off the bed. He gathered up his 
clothes and went out the door, closing it after him. 

Gwen stared up at Larry, wide-eyed, unable to move, like a rabbit hypnotized 
by a snake. He smiled, his dark eyes amused. 

"I won't hurt you," he said gently. He began to undress. She could have 
gotten up and run away but she didn't. She seemed paralyzed. 

He was soon undressed. She gazed at the lean tanned body, somewhat like 
Pete's. But Larry was thinner and taller, and the hair on his chest was 
brown, not black. 

Larry got on the bed, and sat with legs crossed. She was surprised, gazing 
at him, to see he was not ready for an embrace. He put one hand on her 
breast, and gently traced circles with his palm over the swollen mound until 
the tip peaked in automatic response. Then his hand moved to her rounded 
belly, and caressed there. He poked a finger in her navel curiously. He 
seemed intent on studying her body, as his fingers probed and searched. 

"You're probably tired of the usual," he said. 

Gwen didn't understand what he meant. While she puzzled over the words, 
pondering them, he came up closer to her. He turned her over onto her 
stomach before she realized what he was doing. With a hard pressure of his 
hands on her waist, he held her down when she tried to flop over once more. 

"What what are you doing--? " she stammered, frightened. 

"Hold still. You'll enjoy this," he said with assurance. 

She was curious in spite of her fear. She held still. His lips brushed 
lightly from her waist downward. He kissed over her buttocks and down 
further. His fingers probed boldly and she winced. She felt nibbling at her 
tender flesh, and knew he was kissing her intimately. 

Then other things began to happen. She protested feebly. He paid no 
attention. He was leaning over her at her back, holding her down. His hard 
muscular instrument penetrated. The strange position made her even more 
aware of him. He cupped her breasts and squeezed them hard. She wiggled and 
squirmed to get away. He followed her remorselessly till she was halted at 
the headboard. Then he held her firmly and made her accept him. 

Head down, she endured this. The image in her mind was that of the black 
stallion and his mare. This was the animal way, she was thinking. This was 
the animal- 

Then Larry drew away. He sat up, and made her sit up. She was weak and 
pliant, shivering, obedient to his hands and voice. 

Larry sat with his back to the headboard, his legs out in front of him. He 
directed her to squat facing him, sitting on his thighs. Then he deftly 
joined their bodies once more. Hs hardness slid easily into her moist 
readiness. She shuddered, and fell forward to his chest. As he slid higher, 
she opened her mouth to moan. Her teeth caught at his flesh, and she bit his 
chest. 

"Hey hey!" He was laughing. He put his hand on her head and rolled her head 
sideways to stop her biting. "I'll give you what you want! You don't have to 
bite!" 

She was ashamed, but she couldn't stop herself. Her hands clawed frantically 
at his shoulders. She bounced up, and he pushed her down firmly. The 
pleasurable agony increased, the feverish desire was hotter and hotter- 

Then he pulled out again, leaving her uncompleted. She protested. 

"Larry, I'm not finished!" she panted. "Larry-" She grabbed at him. Her wet 
hips slid eagerly on his. 

"Wait, baby. Wait! I've got a sweet surprise for you." 

He slid down on the bed. Then he pulled and twisted her around. Shocked, she 
found she was upside-down on him. 

"Now, honey, now-" he urged. Their bodies writhed and twisted. She obeyed 
his orders blindly, driven by a furious need for completion. They worked at 
each other in strange ways, hands and lips and thighs and legs working, 
until she cried out and shot up to the top. 

A fury of blind desire on a bed, legs and arms confused, bodies writhing, 
springs creaking, voices blending in an animal murmur these memories blended 
in Gwen's dazed mind as she and Larry found peculiar ecstasy together. 

She blanked out. 

When she came to, she was lying with her head on the pillow. Larry was 
bending over her, his dark face anxious. 

"Are you okay, baby?" he asked. "Okay, sweet?" 

"Yes yes," she muttered. She did not want to think about what she had just 
done. She started to sit up. 

He pushed her back gently. "Lie still. We don't have to go back. I've locked 
the door," he added with a grin. 

She told herself she was staying because Larry was Pete's boss, and she 
didn't want to offend Pete's boss, and besides Pete liked this gang. Deep 
inside, she knew this was not the only reason. 

She wanted to stay. She wanted to learn more exciting, strange, terrifying, 
marvelous secrets about sex from this sophisticated man. He knew so much. 
She knew so little. He could give her a complete education in everything 
that went on between a man and a woman. 

Larry leaned closer. His hand plucked at her breast and a nipple twisted in 
his fingers. "You want to stay with me, don't you, kitten?" he murmured. 

"Yes," she answered honestly. 

He did not smile. Passion burned in his dark eyes as he bent down and kissed 
her throat with open lips. As though her confession had released any 
inhibitions he might have had, he kissed her savagely, his teeth biting the 
flesh of her shoulders and then her breasts. Finally his teeth fastened on a 
nipple. He caught it tight and pulled strongly. 

To her own amazement, desire began once again to rise in her as he kissed 
her and his hands moved over her. He knew just where to touch her, just how 
to kiss her, just what to do with his hard body and deft fingers so she soon 
wanted him again. 

Gwen blotted out any doubts, and abandoned herself to the skilled, 
sophisticated love-making of the man with her. 

 CHAPTER TEN 

Gwen woke up slowly. She opened her eyes, moaned, and shut them again. The 
bright sunlight seemed to pierce her skull, increasing the intense ache. 

She tried to move. Her body was stiff, her thighs hurt. 

"Ooooh," she moaned aloud. "Pete? Pete?" 

No answer. She reached out blindly to Pete's side of the bed. It was empty. 

A queasy feeling in her stomach warned her blurred mind. She forced herself 
up off the bed and ran for the bathroom. She was just in time. She vomited 
furiously, then leaned against the bathroom wall until the world stopped 
spinning around her. 

"Oh oh oh," she moaned. "Oh I'm so sick!" 

When her stomach had quieted, she staggered back to bed and lay curled in a 
ball in the bright sunlight. She peered out of bed at the bedside clock, 
blinking tib she could see the face of it. It read twenty past one. 

"Gosh. In the afternoon," she muttered. She rubbed her aching head with cold 
fingers. 

Slowly the memories trickled back, then began coming in a flood. Last night. 
Drinking. Dancing. Then the bedroom. Don. Larry. Larry for a long time. 
Blanking out. Larry bringing her home. 

"Pete?" said Gwen. She couldn't remember if Pete had come home. 

She staggered up again, and made it to the stairs. She went half-way down 
the stairs till she could see the couch. Pete lay there, fully dressed, 
stretched out in a posture of complete relaxation. 

"Oooh, what a night," Gwen muttered. She sat on the stairs. Her eyes felt 
swollen. She couldn't focus them for very long at a time. Finally she went 
back to bed. 

She still felt sick the next day. But Pete was up early and off to work. 
Gwen sat over her coffee, gloomily contemplating more weekends like the past 
one. She didn't think she could take it. 

Pete had raved, "What a party! What a great time!" 

Gwen had not answered. She was sick in body and mind. What she had done with 
Don and Larry was against all her teachings and principles. 

Over her coffee, she thought, "I wouldn't have to go so far next time. Let 
Pete have his fun. I'll just dance, and play games. I don't have to go to 
bed with any man." 

She didn't feel at all right about her behavior. She felt guilty, and she 
didn't like to feel so guilty. It was wrong for her, no matter what the 
others said. 

"I'm not going to get so involved with that fast crowd," she resolved aloud. 
She took another aspirin. "I'll just say, 'no, thanks, fellas,' and that 
will be that. They won't force me. They aren't the type. I'll just go my 
way, and let them go theirs." 

Her resolve to reform made her feel more cheerful. When her headache had 
subsided, she went about her housework. She did the laundry, then hung it 
outside in the sunlight. The light made her blink. Her eyes were still not 
back to normal. 

"Hi, there, neighbor!" said a strange voice. 

Gwen stood up from leaning over the laundry basket. She stared helpless at a 
plump middle-aged woman. She could not remember ever seeing her before. 

The woman beamed at her. "I'm Mrs. Bender, next door here. You must have 
moved in while we were on vacation." 

"Oh yes! I'm Mrs. Anderson. Gwen Anderson." 

The woman shook Gwen's wet hand heartily. "Pleased to meet you. My, you're 
young. Just married, I bet." 

Gwen blushed. "Yes. That is about a month.' 

"And in good with Karen Marshall's crowd already!" The woman's sharp eyes 
were narrowed with curiosity. "I saw Larry Crawford bringing you home 
yesterday morning." 

"Oh," said Gwen stupidly. "I--ah I drank too much," she confessed in a rush. 
"I'm not used to drinking." 

"Gee, you're lucky," said Mrs. Bender, gazing across the lawn toward Karen's 
house. "Getting into that crowd. They have parties ah the time. More fun." 

Her tone was decidedly wistful. Gwen hung up more clothes, not offering any 
comments on the "fun." 

Mrs. Bender chattered on, with plums of gossip stuck richly through her 
discourse. "The folks before you she was dying to be in the crowd. But they 
wouldn't have her, and my, but she was so jealous. She phoned the police a 
couple times about noise. You know? Made Karen Marshall so mad. They don't 
make noise. It's just music and laughing. Sounds like fun all night when 
Karen Marshall has a party." 

She was evidently eager for information about Karen and the crowd. Gwen did 
not offer any. She felt uncomfortable before the friendly, gossipy woman. If 
Mrs. Bender ever found out what kind of "fun" went on at the parties, she 
would be horrified. 

Or would she? 

Gwen pondered that later as she ate lunch. The world was quite different 
from what Gwen had thought it was. Gwen had never dreamed such parties went 
on, with free exchange of partners, promiscuous love-making, intercourse 
indulged in with no regard to anything except the desires of the moment. 

Who was right? Or was there any right or wrong? Did people have the right to 
do what they pleased, as long as nobody else was hurt by it? 

Pete phoned about the middle of the afternoon. 

"Hi, honey, how do you feel?" he asked exuberantly, as though he had never 
had a hangover in his life. 

"Better," she sighed. 

"That's good. You get some rest, honey. Listen, I have to stay overnight in 
town. I thought I might have to follow up on this case, so I packed some 
stuff, and I'm all set." 

"Oh a big insurance deal?" she asked, pleased. 

"Yeah real big. Got to hurry, honey. Be good I'll see you tomorrow night." 

"Okay. Good luck, Pete." 

He sounded strange, his voice muffled. "Thanks, honey. I'll see you. 
Goodbye." 

The house was lonely that evening, without Pete dashing in, demanding his 
supper, telling her about his failures of triumphs of the day. Gwen found a 
magazine and read it for a while, then went to bed early. She noticed the 
lights in the 

Marshall's house went out soon after she went to bed. That was odd, she 
thought. She had not put down Karen Marshall as an early-to-bed sort of 
girl. 

The next day dragged. She had not realized how she looked forward to Pete's 
presence in the evenings to break the monotony of life in the suburbs. 

She laughed at her own eagerness as she waited for Pete to come home. She 
hoped the deal had gone well, for his sake. He was so radiantly happy when 
he made a big sale and so blue when one did not materialize. 

She kept peering out the front windows. There was a Swiss steak in the oven, 
a big pan of steak and onions, carrots, potatoes and gravy, just the way 
Pete liked. She had made a chocolate cake and iced it with caramel frosting. 

And she had resolved to keep herself for Pete alone, and not get mixed up 
with other men. 

So she waited, hopefully, happily, as five o'clock came. Five-fifteen. 
Five-thirty. She kept running back to the kitchen to make sure the meat and 
vegetables were not burning. 

Five forty-five. She stood at the window and shifted from one foot to the 
other. Had the deal gone through? Were they celebrating? Did Pete have to 
write a long report? What could have kept him? 

Then the car drove along to the house, paused. slid forward a few more feet. 
Gwen gazed, frozen to the spot. 

Karen hopped out of the car. Her red hair gleamed in the sunlight. She 
reached into the back of Pete's car and took out a small suitcase. She 
slammed the door, waggled her fingers at Pete, then pranced up the walk to 
her own house. 

Pete backed up and parked the car in front. He got out, took his own case, 
and started up the walk. He looked ahead, right at Gwen. 

The two started at each other. Gwen did not believe it yet, but somehow she 
knew, knew it was true. 

Pete came in. She turned from the window and gazed at him speechlessly. 

"Hi, Gwen," said Pete, uneasily. His eyes shifted from her. 

He paused a moment. When she didn't speak, he shrugged, and walked upstairs 
with his suitcase. Gwen sat down limply on the nearest chair. 

Pete washed up, then came downstairs again. He looked at her, then away. "Uh 
what's for supper, honey?" 

"You were with Karen," she said flatly. "You didn't have a big insurance 
deal." 

"Oh, for gosh sakes!" 

"Weren't you?" 

He paced around the room nervously. He ruffled his short black hair with one 
hand. "Okay. So we spent the night. What about it?" 

"And today, too?" 

"Yeah, today, too. What's the difference if we make love at a party, or at a 
hotel? What's the difference? Just so long as nobody gets hurt, why 
shouldn't we?" 

"Because it's wrong," Gwen said. Her voice broke. "It's wrong, Pete. And 
you, you bed to me." 

"Oh, for pity-" he muttered in exasperation. "Look, you enjoyed yourself on 
Saturday. You went to bed with Don and Larry. You enjoyed it. Why shouldn't 
we all have fun?" 

"It isn't fun! It's horrible!" she cried. "Pete, this is all wrong! It's 
wrong! We're married!" 

"That doesn't change anything! I like Karen, she goes for me." His face was 
flushed and his eyebrows drawn in anger. "I didn't object to your actions at 
the party." 

"You should have! You should have objected!" 

Their quarrel was hot and stormy. They went around and around in circles, 
getting nowhere, concluding nothing. 

And Pete slept on the couch once more that night. Gwen wept in bed alone. 
She felt frightened and confused. 

The more she tried to do right, the more trouble there was. Pete obviously 
wanted to be free to make love to Karen and other women, not just at the 
parties, but on secret meetings. 

What was right? What was wrong? All her old values were upside-down, 
meaningless in the strange world of suburbia. 

 CHAPTER ELEVEN 

Pete slammed off to work early the next day, as furious as though Gwen had 
done something wrong instead of him. 

Gwen felt paralyzed, she was so confused and upset. They had been married 
such a short time. Was Pete disappointed in her, that he had turned to 
another woman so soon? Or were all men like this, promiscuous at the least 
excuse? 

She wished she had someone to talk to, someone to consult, someone older and 
wiser who could give her the right answers. But she shuddered at the idea of 
writing to her parents how horrified they would be! She didn't know anyone 
from her former life who would not be shocked at what had happened. 

She was still sitting over her coffee when the doorbell rang. Isobel was 
there, bright-eyed and gay so early in the morning. 

"Hi, darling. I thought I'd stop by and see if you wanted to go to the 
grocery store." The blonde woman came in and shut the door. 

Gwen eyed her warily. She was wiser now. She knew Isobel didn't have 
groceries on her mind. Somehow it didn't matter much what Isobel's 
intentions were. Here was someone in whom Gwen could confide. 

"Come and have some coffee," Gwen invited. She led the way back to the 
kitchen. 

Isobel followed. She was wearing blue shorts and a loose blue-checked blouse 
that made her look like a teenager. But across the kitchen table, Gwen 
noticed her blue eyes, with rings under them, dark even through layers of 
makeup. Isobel lived a life few teenagers would even have imagined. 

"Wasn't Saturday fun?" asked Isobel brightly. "I knew you would enjoy the 
boys, once you got started." 

Gwen looked down at her cup. "I was sick the next day," she confessed. 

"Too much liquor. You're not used to it. Tell Floyd to cut down on your 
drinks. He will. You don't enjoy yourself as much if you blank out." 

Gwen traced rings on the table with her fingers. Isobel watched her with 
wise alertness. 

"More problems? Karen?" she asked. 

Gwen nodded. "They they stayed overnight in town," she said over a lump in 
her throat. "Pete phoned, and said he had a big insurance deal on. Then the 
next evening he brought Karen home." 

"That might have been coincidence. He might have picked her up in town and 
given her a ride home." 

Gwen shook her head. "He didn't even bother to make up a story when he 
realized I had seen her. He just admitted it! No reason. He he loves her, I 
guess." 

"Nobody loves Karen," Isobel told her firmly. "Women hate her. Men are mad 
for her. But nobody loves her. Pete's going through a phase. Ride it out. 
He'll recover, I promise." 

Gwen wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "He never lied to me before." 

"You mean, you never caught him before." Isobel shrugged. "Men! When they 
get itchy, they'll be, cheat, steal; the nicest of guys will. They get mad 
for a dame, and they'll go wild till they get her. Then it's over. Believe 
me, honey. It's over." 

"He's crazy about her." 

"Sure he is. But she's easy to make. He'll make her plenty then the affair 
will be over. I've seen it happen. Easy come, easy go at least with men." 

"But I don't know what to do!" Gwen wailed. "I thought it would just be the 
parties. It was bad enough, letting Pete make love to women at parties. But 
to sneak off, and lie about it, and spend the night with her-" 

Isobel shook her blonde head. "That's a man for you. That's why I don't have 
illusions about men. I know them too well. Now women they can be different." 

"Karen isn't," Gwen said. 

Isobel smiled at her, and patted her hand. Gwen flinched, startled. 

"I'm talking about women who love each other," said Isobel gently. Her blue 
eyes shone. "A woman's love is different. She-likes to comfort another 
woman, instead of making more trouble for her. She isn't so jealous and 
upset. She takes what there is, and doesn't whine for what she can't have. A 
woman's love can be very nice, Gwen, honey." 

The invitation was open, and it was tempting. Gwen hesitated, feeling warm, 
uncomfortable yet willing to fall in with Isobel's plans. 

"You should take your fun where you find it." Isobel squeezed her hand with 
gentle, small fingers. "Men do. Why shouldn't women? Women are free to do 
what they want to." 

"Are we? Really?" asked Gwen somberly. She didn't pull her hand away. 
Isobel's touch was reassuring after the sting of Pete's betrayal. "Are women 
really free? We're the homemakers, we have the children." 

"Oh, darling, that's old-fashioned!" Isobel laughed out loud. "That's not 
true any more! A woman can be anything she really wants to be! Career-girl, 
fun-girl, wife, mistress, anything and every thing!" 

Gwen thought, "But I want to be a good wife and mother, a homemaker, not a 
fun-girl. Is that impossible with Pete?" 

Isobel caressed Gwen's arm and wrist with skilled fingertips. A thrill 
started up Gwen's spine. "Have fun," Isobel urged. "All the fun you want. 
Don thought you were marvelous. You know it? I could have told him that. 
Women are much more themselves with other women. I knew you would be sweet 
and soft and generous." 

"Pete doesn't seem to think so!" The bitter words burst out. Gwen's eyes 
filled with tears. 

Isobel jumped up and came around the table to her. "Now, honey! Now, kitten! 
Don't be upset!" She bent over Gwen and cooed lovingly to her. Her small 
clever hands patted Gwen's hair and neck and shoulders, then slid down to 
the firm mounds of Gwen's breasts. She drew Gwen back to lean against her as 
she kissed her cheeks. "Forget about him!" she urged in Gwen's ear. "Have 
some fun. Relax. You'll be a bundle of nerves if you don't look out." 

"I can't help worrying!" Gwen sobbed. But Isobel's touch was soothing. She 
submitted gratefully to the older girl's caresses. 

"Let's go upstairs," Isobel murmured. "I've been longing for this. Let's us 
have some fun. 

Women are so much better for each other than a man can be. Come on, honey." 

Gwen was uneasy about giving in once more. But her bruised spirits craved 
comfort, and Isobel seemed to understand exactly how she felt. The two girls 
went upstairs to the bedroom. 

Isobel helped Gwen undress. "We'll just take off this," she cooed, as to a 
child, lifting the hem of the loose dress. "And then we'll take off this," 
lifting the slip off Gwen's head. The small hands patted and caressed deftly 
as the garments were removed. "Now this tight old thing that hides your 
pretty breasts--" She unfastened the brassiere, and her eager fingers rubbed 
over the pert breasts. 

"Oh, that feels good," Gwen exclaimed as the hands cupped and squeezed. 

Isobel smiled, and leaned forward. Her red mouth took a nipple and held 
firmly. She pulled at it, like a child suckling. The breast began to swell 
and burgeon with delight. 

Gwen caught at Isobel's shoulders to steady herself. The smaller girl pushed 
her back to the bed, and the two fell down on the soft yielding surface. 
There was silence in the room except for the quickened breathing as the 
girls became more excited. 

Isobel half lay on Gwen, her mouth pressed to Gwen's rich breasts. Gwen lay 
back lazily, flat on her back, her arms behind her head, receiving the 
homage of Isobel's kisses. The small clever hands were caressing her. Gwen 
sponged all doubts from her mind, and accepted the comforting caresses. 
After all, Pete took his fun. Why shouldn't she? 

Isobel's hands went teasingly under the elastic band of the panties. Gwen 
wore no stockings, and her sandals had fallen off. Her feet slid on the 
smooth sheet as Isobel's fingers explored inside her pants. A daring finger 
searched, found, teased the hard button of Gwen's sex. 

"Oh ah-" Gwen's knees jerked and folded involuntarily at the touch. Isobel 
played on that knob, till Gwen began to feel melted and loose and soft. Her 
eyes closed dreamily. 

The hand was withdrawn. Isobel sat up and the bed springs creaked. Gwen 
opened her eyes, disappointed, to find Isobel undressing. She watched 
curiously as the lovely blonde girl unfastened the blue shut and flung it 
away. The blue shorts followed. The sandals were kicked off. Then a blue 
brassiere was taken off, and blooming pear-shaped breasts were revealed. 

Gwen reached up and touched the wide pink tip of a breast. Isobel trembled, 
and smiled down lovingly at Gwen. 

"Just a minute, darling," she breathed. Two jerks and a yank disposed of the 
brief blue panties. Then the smaller girl knelt up on the bed beside Gwen 
and showed herself proudly. 

She had a right to be proud, thought Gwen, as she gazed at Isobel. The girl 
was perfectly shaped. The curly blonde head was set on a graceful neck, 
rising from silky white shoulders. Below were rounded pears of breasts, 
capped with deep pink nipples the size of half dollars. The waist curved in, 
dotted with a small round navel. Below, a curve of belly melted into rounded 
thighs, the center of attraction a delicious triangle of blonde curls hiding 
the mystery of her sex. 

Gwen could not restrain herself. The girl looked so soft and silky, so 
kissable, that she reached out for her. 

Isobel still knelt beside her. Gwen flung herself at the blonde doll. She 
pressed kisses passionately on the rounded breasts and bit the nipples with 
nibbling lips till the pink buttons rose to buds. Gwen kissed lower, to the 
rounded belly, then to the curves of the thighs. She pushed Isobel down, and 
the older girl sighed with delight as she stretched out. 

"Oh, love me," said Isobel. "Love me good, honey!" 

"I will I will-" Gwen breathed. 

All her new knowledge sprang to use as she worked over the silken body of 
the willing partner. She teased the soft flesh of the thighs with her lips. 
Her hands gently parted the columns of the girl's legs, and awkwardly she 
searched with her fingers. She was rewarded with a treasure of wet silk, 
ensconced in pink and white velvet. Her lips kissed eagerly, her hands 
played, till Isobel began to thresh about on the bed and utter little cries 
of pleasure. 

Gwen watched her face curiously in between kisses and caresses. This was how 
a man felt when he brought a woman to climax. She delayed, slowed down, then 
speeded up, and watched Isobel as the girl's face screwed up in an agony of 
delight. Spasms shot through the girl, and her legs jerked. Her breathing 
was harsh and rasping. 

Then she lay quiet, face dreamy, eyes closed, her arms above her head. Gwen 
lay down beside her, and waited. Isobel recovered, and turned to her, 
clasping her in her arms. 

"Oh, that was delicious, lover," she whispered. "I'll show you how much I 
appreciated that. Come here, darling." 

Gwen crept into Isobel's arms. The girl played with her body, caressed her, 
then settled on her and kissed her till Gwen began to feel the delightful 
heat and voluptuous softening of her thighs. 

When Isobel knew Gwen was ready, she said, "Now, I'll show you something 
else. This is the way we can both be happy at once." 

Gwen was startled as Isobel showed her the classic lesbian posture. It 
seemed strange for a while. But her body was demanding satisfaction. She 
shut off doubts into a closed portion of her mind, and abandoned herself to 
the teachings of her mistress. 

The bed springs began to creak, softly, then louder, with more violence. The 
bed rocked with their eager motions as each girl strove to bring the other 
up to the perfect moment. 

The creaking assumed a rhythmic regularity. 

Gwen, with closed eyes, kissed, caressed, stroked frantically, lost in a 
maze of silken moisture. Her own body was being titillated and sweetly 
tormented, until her feet jerked and began an erotic dance on the bed. 

Arms, legs, breasts, thighs, all were in frantic movement at the last. They 
strove to come closer, closer, in ever-increasing delight, until Gwen cried 
out, then Isobel answered her. In a tangle of limbs they reached the climax 
together, and shot up into a heaven of ecstatic sensation. Spasms of 
involuntary muscular reactions jerked through them, slowly calming, slowly 
dying to leave them exhausted and motionless. 

Isobel squirmed on the bed till she could take Gwen in her arms once more. 
Breast to breast, thighs clinging, they lay together for a long time as the 
hot July sunlight shone on their wet, weary bodies. 

 CHAPTER TWELVE 

Hours later, Gwen felt the Inevitable reaction. Her senses were fuby 
satisfied and her body soothed. Now her mind began to raise questions and 
doubts. Her conscience scolded her sternly. 

"I can't go on like this!" she told herself. "I know this is wrong. But if I 
stay here, it will keep on happening. I have to leave. We have to leave." 

She faced that idea soberly. Try as she would, she could not find any other 
solution. She and Pete were being tempted beyond then strength. The only 
thing they could do was to remove themselves from temptation. 

It was an expensive experience, Gwen realized. Pete would probably take a 
loss on the house. But this move must be made. 

When Pete came home, she gave him his dinner first, diplomatically. He was 
uneasy all through dinner, waiting for her anger to burst forth again. 

Gwen left the dishes and followed Pete into the living room. He had picked 
up the newspaper already. He glared at her around the paper. 

"I suppose you mean to give me the devil again," he growled. 

She sat down in the big chair. Her hands were trembling; she clasped them 
together. 

"Pete, we must talk about this," she began quietly. "Please put the paper 
down." 

He flung it down. His face was flushed, his black eyes glittered. "Don't ask 
me to give up Karen. She's willing, and we aren't hurting anybody. It's just 
between us," he said belligerently. 

"It hurts me," she answered. 

"Oh, it does not! You had great fun with Don and Larry!" 

She could have added, "And with Isobel!" but she didn't dare. 

"This isn't the life we wanted, Pete. It really isn't. Remember our plans? 
We we said we wanted a baby soon, and then several more." She blushed, but 
kept on gravely. "I'm afraid this-this neighborhood isn't right for 
children. Why, there isn't a school for two miles. I thought-" 

"A school! For gosh sakes, Gwen, what's wrong with you? We don't have even 
one child yet! We won't need a school nearby for years!" Here was something 
real he could complain about, and he made the most of it. "You worry about 
the darndest things! A school yet! My gosh!" 

"I mean it, Pete. This isn't the right neighborhood to bring up a child. I I 
think we should move back to town." 

"To town!" he yelped, as though she had said to the moon. "To town! You've 
flipped your lid! We talked about this. We said we wanted to live in the 
suburbs where you could breathe fresh all, see grass, all that stuff. We 
aren't here a month, and you want to move back to town!" 

"Pete, listen," she begged earnestly, her hands clenching each other so 
tightly that they hurt. "The atmosphere isn't wholesome. The people here the 
parties getting drunk having relations with each other I don't want to raise 
a baby in-" 

"Now, you wait!" He raised his hand. He was red, but in earnest also. "I've 
been meaning to talk to you about this. I guess now is as good a time as 
any. I don't think we should have kids." 

"What?" Gwen screamed, horrified. 

"I mean not now!" he added hastily. "Kids are for later. We're young, we 
deserve some fun. Kids tie a guy down; they would tie you down, too. You 
don't realize how much you'd be tied down. We should wait and have kids 
later." 

She stared at him. Her brain whirled dizzily. "Oh Pete-" she whispered, sick 
at heart. 

These weren't his ideas. She could practically hear Karen's voice as he 
spoke. 

"We've got plenty of time," he went on. "People deserve fun in life. Later 
on there'll be plenty of time to have kids." 

"How much later?" she forced herself to ask. 

"Oh-" He shrugged. "Maybe five years or ten even. When we're settled. Kids 
are expensive, you know. We have the house to pay for-" 

"Five or ten years-" 

He didn't seem to hear her whisper. 

"And the furniture. We haven't bought all the furniture yet. And Larry's 
been telling me about what kind of car to buy." 

"Car-" she repeated stupidly. 

His eyes were gleaming with dreams she could not share. 

"Yep. Larry told me how people judge a man by his car. Now when I go out to 
sell a man a big insurance policy, how does it look if I show up in a cheap 
car? It labels me cheap right away. The right car means more sales, big 
sales. A man has to think big." 

She stared at him, overwhelmed. The house was so expensive, the furniture 
not nearly paid for. And he was talking about a big new high-priced car! She 
could not think of the words to express how she felt. 

He was in Karen's silken trap. Karen and Larry were formidable opponents, 
thought Gwen helplessly. She didn't even know the words to begin to refute 
what they had told Pete. 

Her father had had a horror of debt. She remembered the stories he had told 
her of men who had bought on credit, mortgaged all they had, couldn't meet 
payments and lost everything. "Better to buy less, and be able to pay for 
it," he had said over and over. 

"Pete, we can't can't afford-" she began feebly. 

"Now, you let me worry about that," he said grandly. He rustled the paper to 
indicate he had other things to think about. "I'll handle the finances. You 
can help me, though." 

"How?" 

"Be nice to Larry and the gang. They like you. They accept both of us. Since 
we're in good with the gang, we can go right up to the top." 

"Oh, Pete, it's wrong to-" 

"Larry's advising me. I'm in good with him," Pete rushed on, unheeding. 
"He-likes me. I'm in line for promotion soon. This can be the job of a 
lifetime, honey, if you'll just help and not hinder." 

"I don't want to hinder, but-" 

"Then don't!" he said harshly. He flung down the paper. "Don't tell me all 
your doubts and squeamish little pruderies! Help me! Don't stand in my way!" 

As he gazed at his stormy face, the words came involuntarily. "Pete, do you 
really want me to make love with Larry to get you a promotion?" 

He glared at her, his dark eyes horrified. In plain English, the idea was 
even worse than in her mind. She waited tensely for his answer. 

"It isn't that way! It isn't that way at all!" he cried. He stormed out of 
the house. She heard the car start a moment later. He drove away. 

He didn't return for hours. She finally went to bed, and lay awake until she 
heard the car. She rolled over to look at the clock. Ten past two. She 
sighed deeply, and some of the tension left her body. 

Pete stumbled around in the darkness downstairs. She heard the thumps as he 
hit chairs. Was he drunk? She heard the flushing of the toilet downstairs, 
the small sounds that meant he was undressing. His shoes fell to the floor. 
The couch creaked. He was sleeping downstairs again. 

She lay awake till finally the need for sleep overcame her, then she slept 
heavily. This lovely house was becoming a prison, a luxurious prison from 
which she longed to escape. 

But if she left now, she had a feeling it would be without Pete. Pete was 
comfortably settled in Karen's flesh-trap. He couldn't see anything wrong 
with this way of life, especially since it fitted in so well with his 
masculine hunger for Karen. 

 CHAPTER THIRTEEN 

Pete had left the house before Gwen awakened in the morning. As she sat over 
her coffee, she remembered unhappily all the dreams she had had of married 
life. This was not what she had imagined, not at all. 

She had planned to rise early every morning, give Pete a good breakfast, 
send him off to work with a kiss, work hard all day, and go to bed with him 
at night and fall asleep in his arms. That was what marriage had meant to 
her. That, plus babies, and a clean decent neighborhood, and good friends- 

Her mouth twisted bitterly. How strangely perverted it all was, how her 
dreams had turned into nightmares, all because they had landed with the 
wrong crowd. Now Pete didn't sleep with her at all and he didn't want a 
baby. 

She rubbed her face with cold shaking hands. She needed help, comfort, 
advice. But there was no one who understood except maybe Isobel. 

She did understand, thought Gwen. She realized how Gwen felt. Sure, she was 
a lesbian, but Isobel realized what Gwen wanted, what struggles she was 
having, the danger of Karen. 

Gwen made up her mind. She dressed rapidly, then went over to Isobel's house 
a few blocks away. 

The small blonde girl opened the door. She beamed with delight when she saw 
Gwen. 

"Come in, darling! What a pleasant surprise." 

"I I hope it isn't too too early-" Gwen stammered. 

"Of course not! I was just having coffee." She led the way to the kitchen, 
her small feet clattering in blue high-heeled mules. She wore a loose 
wrapper of a blue check fabric that made her look younger than ever. "This 
is lovely! I've been wishing for someone to drop in mornings like this. I'm 
so glad you moved here." 

They sat down. Isobel poured coffee. 

Gwen began abruptly, feeling embarrassed, yet driven to ask for advice. 
"That's just why I came, about being here in the neighborhood. Isobel, I'm 
afraid we made a bad mistake in moving here." 

Isobel's blue eyes widened. "Why? You fit in so web." She pushed a plate of 
robs over toward Gwen. 

"It it isn't the gang exactly-" Gwen stumbled over the lie. She didn't want 
to hurt Isobel's feelings. "It it's Karen. Pete is so involved with her he's 
very inconsiderate he he sleeps alone he he said he doesn't want a baby!" 

"Oh, dear!" said Isobel, with comforting compassion. "He's head over heels, 
that's for sure. That Karen! She's a menace. I remember when Don was mad 
about her. I about went crazy! She used him all up, and he slept on the 
couch. And there was poor me, in bed alone, pining for Don. I about went out 
of my mind till he recovered." 

Gwen sighed, rather relieved. "He he went through that? And recovered?" 

"He sure did. He laughs about it now. I'm afraid we laugh together when we 
see a new man like Pete falling for Karen. I mean, she really is obvious, 
isn't she? The man-hunter on the prowl!" Isobel laughed out loud, her cute 
face crinkling. 

Gwen tried to laugh also, but she didn't feel amused. Karen seemed too 
dangerous for laughter. 

"There now, dear, I'm sorry," said Isobel, and patted her hand. "Drink your 
coffee and cheer up. Karen won't keep your husband for long, I promise you! 
He'll recover and see her for what she is, an easy mark, with not much to 
offer. After all, any man wants a bit more from a woman than some sex 
techniques." 

"What more?" Gwen forced herself to ask, blushing. 

"Oh, darling! A comfortable home, good meals, a wife in bed at night without 
the bother of finding motels. The easy life! That's what men really like. 
And with our parties, a man gets such a variety in girls that it will 
satisfy any instinct he has for roaming. See? That's how we manage to hold 
our men. Nobody is hurt. Everybody gets variety. We all have fun." 

"But but none of you have children," Gwen finally said, troubled. "Isobel, I 
do want children, and Pete said-" 

"Oh, so do I! Someday," said Isobel promptly. "But I'm young yet. I take 
pills regularly. Some day Don and I will settle down and have a couple kids, 
and do only a little discrete partying on the side. See? It all works out. 
You just have to plan for it." 

Gwen was silent, digesting these new ideas. Was Isobel right? Was the easy 
moralizing right because it kept a man from straying too far? Were all her 
early teachings wrong, too strict, not allowing for the passions that 
gripped men and women? 

"Poor Gwen." Isobel reached out and took her hand gently. "She's all mixed 
up and confused, isn't she? Does she need some loving to make her feel 
better?" 

Gwen looked at the pretty blue eyes of her hostess and felt herself blushing 
before the wise keenness of the girl. She nodded. 

"I I feel neglected," she confessed. "I I wanted Pete. But he he slept on 
the couch-" 

"Come upstairs, darling. We'll have ourselves a good time. You're very 
sweet, you know it? I'm very fond of you." Isobel came over to Gwen and 
kissed her cheek. Her words and gestures were comforting to Gwen's bruised 
feelings. She let herself be led upstairs to the large master bedroom. It 
smelled of Isobel's sensuous perfume and her powder. 

"Let me undress you. I love to," said Isobel. She came close to Gwen and 
began unfastening her clothes. Surely this was not terribly wrong, Gwen 
thought, as Isobel unbuttoned her dress. It's just playing, having a little 
fun because I'm lonely and blue. It isn't really wrong, she thought. It 
doesn't hurt anybody. 

She stifled her conscience and abandoned herself to Isobel. The older girl 
lifted her dress from her and hung it on a chair. The slip came off next. 
Isobel stroked Gwen's silken shoulders. 

"Oooh, you're so pretty," she cooed, and kissed the fold of flesh just above 
Gwen's armpit. A thrill began coursing through Gwen's body at the nibbling 
touch of Isobel's bps. 

The brassiere was unfastened, and Gwen's pear-shaped breasts were free. They 
stood up proudly, the nipples already in peeks. 

"Oooh, darling, you are just about ready, aren't you?" Isobel giggled. She 
teased Gwen with little kisses around the edge of each mound, then took a 
peak in her mouth and pulled firmly outward. Gwen's knees were weakening 
from the roused desire in her limbs. 

Then the small hands pulled at the panties and yanked them down. Isobel 
knelt to pull them off, taking the barefoot sandals with them. She continued 
to kneel before Gwen for a moment, her face pressed to the soft brush of 
hair hiding the secrets of Gwen's femininity. Gwen's legs parted. She stood 
with feet apart to brace herself, and swayed dizzily as a warm wet tongue 
licked cleverly at her in deep kisses. 

"Now me," said Isobel, standing up. She held her arms out like a doU. 
"Undress me like that." 

Gwen obeyed, her hands shaking with desire. She took off the loose wrapper, 
to find a warm silken nude body underneath. Eagerly her hands caressed the 
pink and white flesh. Isobel lay down on the bed, and drew Gwen down on top 
of her. The two girls kissed, lips meeting, tongues lashing at each other, 
in wet serpentine movements which drove their passions higher. Body writhed 
against body, breasts pressing, thighs twisting, legs twining, closer and 
closer. 

"Over and around-" Isobel commanded, breaking free. 

"Oh I don't know I don't want-" Gwen began to protest. 

To her shocked surprise, Isobel gave her a sharp spank across the buttocks. 
"Quickly, dear, or I'll spank again!" 

"W-what-" Gwen gasped. She sat up, her desires ebbing at this unexpected 
treatment. She gazed at Isobel's flushed face and sparkling eyes. 

"Around, I said!" Isobel's small hand smacked sharply. The crack was loud in 
the room. Gwen's thigh stung. Isobel laughed. "Did I surprise you? I find it 
adds spice to love-making. You can spank me later if you want." 

Gwen swallowed. This was a new angle, and she didn't like it. She had come 
for comfort and love. Isobel struck her again across the buttocks. 

"Around me, your head this way," she commanded, and pulled Gwen around so 
they lay in the classic lesbian posture. Gwen felt greedy lips biting at her 
stinging thighs. 

She protested. "I don't want not this way Isobel, don't!" She was struggling 
in Isobel's firm grasp. 

"What a pretty picture!" said a masculine voice. "Mind if I join you?" 

Horrified, Gwen lifted her head to see Don Hoover's amused blue eyes. He was 
standing beside the large bed gazing down at his wife and Gwen. He reached 
out and patted the nearest thigh. It happened to be Gwen's. 

"Two lovely girls in my bed. What could be nicer? I had a strong feeling I 
should come home this morning," said the man. 

"But I we I don't-" Gwen squeaked, her throat closing at the unnerving 
experience. She was numb with shock at being discovered- 

Don began to shed his clothes. Isobel was still kissing Gwen, and Gwen felt 
an unwilling response to the licking, biting caresses on her thighs. Gwen 
began to struggle again, trying to get out of the unexpectedly strong grip 
of the smaller girl. 

"She's getting away, Don! Come and help," said Isobel, getting a better grip 
on Gwen's legs. "She's sweet when she gets hot, but sometimes she's hard to 
manage." 

"I'll be right there," said Don, laughing down at the two squirming bodies. 
He had stripped himself to his shorts. He pulled these off, revealing 
himself in masculine readiness for the attack. 

Gwen froze with horror as she realized what this couple meant to do. They 
meant to hold her, and force her to submit to both of them at the same time! 
This was not love, this was sex-violence! Her spirit was in rebellion, and 
she fought more fiercely. 

Isobel laughed and panted. "Whoa, Gwen, honey! Take it easy! We'll satisfy 
you don't be so greedy!" 

Her mocking words rang in Gwen's ears. Isobel knew Gwen was trying to get 
away! 

Don climbed on the bed and grabbed Gwen's shoulders. He pulled her into 
another position, and he and Isobel drew her sideways. Finally Gwen was 
lying with her head pinned between Isobel's legs, face down. Her limbs and 
body were stretched across the bed under Don's body. Isobel was sitting, 
holding Gwen's head down forcefully to herself. 

"Now, Don. Now!" said Isobel. Her voice was strangely high-pitched. "Work on 
her. She'll work on me. Oh, I love this. I love this!" 

"Here we go. Hold on!" Don's voice was high and excited also. Gwen felt him 
at her back and thighs. 

He forced her legs apart. She felt his masculine instrument at the wet 
entrance to her femininity. 

"No no-" she-moaned, indistinctly. Her open bps were reluctantly in contact 
with Isobel's limbs. She tried to turn her head to avoid the touch. Isobel's 
hands forced her head back in place. 

"Go on, darling, love me," cooed Isobel's voice in Gwen's ears. "Love me 
good! You'll get your reward from Don!" 

Gwen couldn't answer. A mighty force had wrenched her thighs. A hard driving 
piston had beaten its way inside her. She moaned, stiffening. She tried to 
fight, but she was held motionless by the experienced couple. Don drove with 
a long, slow, single motion right up to the top. She felt him deep inside 
her, touching her quivering womb. 

Now his hands reached up. He grabbed her breasts as though they were 
handles, and squeezed her, like a cow, she thought bitterly. like milking a 
cow. No thought for her as a woman, no care for her feelings and emotions. 

They were using her as the instrument of their pleasure, as callously, as 
brutally as though they cared nothing for her. 

She gave in and lay quietly. It hurt less that way. She let them use her, 
while she thought about the truth. These two really did care nothing for 
her; not Gwen, not a girl who was frightened and confused in a strange 
situation. All they really cared about was their own pleasure, a new thrill, 
a new sensation. The advice they gave, the things they did to her, were all 
designed to further their own satisfactions. 

She couldn't trust them any more than she could trust Karen or Larry. There 
was no help for her here. 

"Now she's warming up," said Isobel's cooing voice. The hold on her head 
lessened. "Kiss me, sweet. Kiss me good. You know what to do." 

Gwen lay motionless. 

"Gwen!" Isobel's voice warned. A light grip on her hair tightened. Isobel 
pulled Gwen's hair in a sharp yank that brought tears to Gwen's eyes. "Kiss 
me!" 

Gwen began to kiss, automatically. 

"That's right, that's good. She's sweet, isn't she, Don?" 

"She's a voluptuous doll. Look at these hips, honey," said Don. "Nice and 
wide and round. Holds me tight, she does." 

The conversation became even more intimate and disgusting. Gwen finally 
realized that Isobel and Don were giving themselves a thrill with their 
dirty talk. They were so experienced and so blase, they needed added 
incentives to get their kicks. 

She was tossed back and forth between them as their excitement grew. Don 
worked at her back, thrusting high each time, until Gwen felt a reluctant 
response to his skilled movements. She ducked her head down. Her back arched 
involuntarily. 

"Here she goes," Don commented. "High up baby! Here she goes! Now how do you 
like this!" He moved very rapidly, and sent Gwen off into a moaning ecstasy 
of pure sensation. In her writhing thoughtless reaction, she kissed and bit 
at Isobel until the other girl began to scream and kick and writhe also. 
Soon the three of them were rolling on the bed, holding each other, ecstasy 
blazing up in each. Don held Gwen's hips as he finished in her, and she felt 
him twisting in the final joys of the act. 

She lay limp as the spasms died in her. Don groaned, and robed off onto his 
back. His blonde face was dazed and vacant, like a dummy's, his eyes closed. 
Gwen found herself full length between Don and Isobel. As soon as she had 
gathered strength, she sat up, blinking. She wanted to leave these people, 
this horrible perfumed bedroom that had been the scene of such an orgy. 

Soft arms grabbed her waist. "Don't leave yet, sweetie," said Isobel's sweet 
voice. "We've only begun this party. We have all day, don't we, Don?" 

"Let me go," muttered Gwen. "I have to go I must-" 

"Not yet." Isobel brushed a kiss across Gwen's shoulder. "We'll give you the 
time of your life. You haven't lived till you've been with us right, Don?" 

"Right, honey," Don agreed. He stirred and sat up lazily. Gwen gazed at him 
apprehensively. She could see the limp instrument rising up and growing in 
size and power. 

"Oh please, no!" she said. "Please let me go-" 

"She really loves it," said Isobel to Don. "She just has a conscience!" 
Isobel laughed, as though that was the funniest idea in the world. 

"Well help her get rid of it." Don grinned, and put his hand on Gwen's 
breast. He squeezed, and the full swollen breast responded by the stiffening 
of a nipple. He bent and took the nipple in his mouth. He pulled, and Gwen 
was drawn down to his body. Isobel was at her back, caressing her. Gwen was 
helpless between the two skilled performers. 

She gave in, and let them do what they pleased with her throughout the long, 
hot July day. The sun came in, and beat at their naked sprawling bodies. But 
the heat of their passions seemed hotter than the sun. 

 CHAPTER FOURTEEN 

Pete was late coming home that evening. Gwen had time for a long soaking 
bath that helped relieve the soreness of her limbs. But she was still 
bruised and shaken by the experience. 

She curled up on the couch and waited for Pete. If he didn't listen to her, 
if he didn't believe her, she would go out of her mind. She shivered 
convulsively in the still dry heat of the room, and drew up her legs to hug 
them in her arms. 

Pete finally came at half-past-six. He carried his jacket over his arm, and 
looked wilted and worn from the day. 

He saw Gwen waiting for him. 

"I know I'm late," he growled. "So don't jump all over me." 

Tears stung her eyes. Had they quarreled so much that Pete expected only 
anger from her? 

"I won't jump. I can't," she said, choking a little. "Oh, Pete, I've had a 
horrible day. Just horrible." 

He sat down in the big chair, sprawling out. He gazed at her with cautious 
concern. "Why? What happened? Did the washing machine break down?" 

"No. Nothing like that. I I went to see Isobel." She looked down at her 
loose robe. Now that the time for confession had come, she felt very 
nervous. "Pete, I've been doing something awful. But I'm very sorry. I never 
want to do it again. I I've been been making love with 

Isobel." 

She dared look up. Her fingers pulled at her dress. She licked her dry lips. 

"Making love with Isobel?" Pete asked finally. "What in hell-" 

"I mean it. She she made advances, and I 

I was lonely and blue. I thought she loved she liked me. I thought she 
wanted to comfort me." 

"Lesbian relations?" Pete croaked hoarsely. "You mean-" 

She nodded miserably. "I'll never do it again, I swear, Pete! Today I went 
over to her house-" 

"I don't want to hear about it!" he barked, his voice unexpectedly loud. She 
looked up at him timidly. His face was red, his black eyes startled. 

"Pete, I have to tell you! Don was there. He they-" 

She thought for a moment Pete would dash away. But he stayed. She stammered 
out all that had happened, their laughter, the way they had forced her. 

"I I couldn't get away, Pete. I I didn't try very hard," she confessed. "You 
see, I've experienced such things and they they have a terrible fascination 
... Oh, Pete, I'm afraid I I liked what they did. Even though I hate it! Oh, 
I can't explain-" 

He groaned. He rubbed his face with his hands. "Yes, I can understand that," 
he said, finally. "Hate and want all at once. Oh, gosh, Gwen, we're in an 
awful mess." 

To her relief he came over to the couch and took her in his arms. She cried 
on his shoulder in her relief. 

"I'm afraid to stay here," she sobbed. "I don't want to be a a lesbian. Oh, 
Pete, I want to be normal!" 

"I know, honey, I know. Don't cry." He petted and soothed her. "I never knew 
it was going this far. I swear I didn't." 

"Me neither. I should have told you that first day." 

"And she-Isobel she's a lesbian." 

"I guess so. I mean, she does things with men. But she-likes women best, she 
said so. And she 

she knows just how to handle a woman. Oh, Pete!" Gwen wailed. "I feel 
unclean!" 

"It's too bad, it's awful," he muttered. 

She cuddled closer to him. "Pete, honey, couldn't we move away? Couldn't we 
start over somewhere else?" 

He stiffened. She put her arm around his neck. 

"I know it will cost a lot. But Pete, if I stay-" 

"It'll cost a horrible amount. But I'm worried about Larry. What will he 
say? He's my boss!" 

"Can't you just tell him the truth? He knows the crowd. I'll bet he even 
knows about Isobel." 

"Web maybe-" 

She followed up rapidly. "Tell him we really like the crowd. It's just I 
can't be a lesbian. Tell him tell him we're planning to have a baby soon." 

"I wouldn't want to lie about it," Pete protested. His arms lay loosely 
about her. She had a cold, aching, frightened feeling when he didn't agree 
with her. 

"Oh, we must leave," she said. "I can't stay here. Pete, I don't want to 
become a lesbian, too! Please, Pete! Let's go away." 

He was quiet for a while. She cuddled closer, hoping her nearness and her 
pleas would move him. She was desperate for his promise. She had a strong 
conviction he did not want to move away from Karen. But she must convince 
him, somehow. 

"How many times have you and Isobel-" he asked finally. 

She told him, in a stifled voice. 

"Oh! Well gosh this isn't the kind of life we wanted, is it?" He sounded 
unhappy and weary. She dared not look at his face. "And you, you enjoyed 
it?" 

"In a way," she admitted. "She's very clever with her hands and kisses. She 
knows just how to touch-" 

"Don't tell me any more!" he interrupted hastily. He pushed her away from 
him, and stood up. She watched him anxiously as he paced the room. She 
couldn't guess what he was thinking as he paused at the front window. 

Finally he swung around to face her, but his expression was unreadable. 
"I'll try to explain tactfully to Larry," he said. "We'll move. Just as soon 
as I can sell this house and find another in town. Okay?" 

"Okay, darling," she breathed. She would have kissed him, but he seemed 
unapproachable just then. "I I can start packing right away." 

"There shouldn't be any trouble finding a buyer. It's a good location." His 
voice was wistful. 

She ignored that. "No, there shouldn't be any trouble. And there were houses 
in town, Pete. Nice houses, near schools and shopping centers," she said 
eagerly. 

"Yeah. Well, I think I'll get a shower before supper." He went on upstairs. 

She hurried to fix the meal, her heart feeling lighter. Pete had agreed, and 
he wouldn't back down. They were leaving, leaving, leaving this whole rotten 
crowd! She hummed happily and she prepared supper. 

Pete was strangely quiet all through supper. She caught him glancing at her 
several times in a troubled, aloof manner. Was he regretting Karen? 

Or or had he been badly upset about the lesbian episodes? Gwen sobered as 
she tried to analyze Pete's reactions. Yes, he had gone over and over that 
part. He had wanted to know her attitude. He had asked how many times she 
and Isobel had made love. 

Did Pete think she had already become a lesbian? Oh, surely not! she 
protested to herself. She had told him she wanted to move away. She had 
convinced him of her desire to leave Isobel and never see her again. 

She was relieved when Pete came up to bed with her that night. Tired as she 
was, sore as her body was, she would have welcomed his embrace. She put on 
her pretty yellow nightgown and climbed into her side of the bed. 

Pete didn't move toward her. He lay quite still. 

"Pete, honey?" she murmured. She touched his chest. He was wearing pajamas 
tonight, and that surprised her. 

He stirred. "Sure, Gwen. What is it?" 

"Do you want to make love?" It was the first time she had ever asked him. 
She blushed at her own daring. 

"I expect you're tired," he said, making no move toward her. "Go to sleep, 
honey." His tone was kind, but distant. 

She felt rebuffed. She rolled over to her side facing him. "Pete, hold me," 
she suggested softly. 

His arms came out and he cradled her, and drew her close to him. She came 
with relief, and curled up against him. 

She would have been happy, except for the faint nagging worry that it was 
not concern for her that kept Pete from making love to her. 

She lay quietly in his arms, and soon went to sleep, her cheek against his 
chest. She heard the steady, even pounding of his heart, and it was 
reassuring. 

 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 

When Pete went to work the next day, he said he would tell Larry right away. 
Pete always kept his promises, so Gwen was happy. 

She hummed as she raced about the house. She packed the linens in cartons 
they had kept in the basement. She did the washing, and hung it out in the 
sunshine. 

"In a few days, in a few days," she sang happily to herself. "In a few more 
days!" They would move out, leave this terrible place and these horrible 
people, and never, never have to go to another "party" like the ones she had 
experienced. 

Larry Crawford would understand. Of course he would, thought Gwen. He was a 
sophisticated man-of-the-world. He must know Isobel was a lesbian. He would 
sympathize with Gwen's wish to leave. 

Where would they live? Gwen let her mind roam delightedly over the 
prospects. There had been some nice homes in the city. One had been only a 
block from a grade school, and two blocks from a shopping center. Something 
like that would be good. 

Once Pete was away from Karen, he would forget her, Gwen felt. He was just 
fascinated by her, he didn't really love Karen. Once away, he would remember 
their plans for children, and the life they wanted. Picnics in the country 
on Sunday afternoon. Concerts in town on Saturday evenings. Plays. A few 
parties with good friends; nice parties, said Gwen firmly to herself. No sex 
orgies. 

Pete came home early, at four-thirty. He looked weary and nervous, Gwen 
thought, as she met him at the door. She gazed at him anxiously. 

"Did you tell him? What did he say?" 

Pete nodded slowly. "I told him. He said he was surprised and disappointed. 
He wants us to think it over, not do anything hasty. He wants to talk to us 
this weekend." 

"Oh Pete-" She felt a chill of fear. Larry could be so persuasive. 

"I told him it was definite. We've made up our minds. I don't want my wife 
to be a a lesbian-" Pete seemed to choke over the word. 

"Oh. What did-" 

"I walked out of the office. I went to a real estate dealer and talked to 
him. He thinks we can make a trade, our house for one in town. He didn't 
think it would need to cost too awful much. So I told him to go ahead and 
start looking. He's going to phone me this evening." 

Relief made her sag. "Oh! Oh, that's fine," she said weakly. "Oh, Pete, if 
we can just get away soon-" 

"Yeah. Well guess we might as well start packing." He looked around, 
helplessly, at the living room. 

"I did start. I packed the linens, and I put some clothes in the trunk." 

He gave her an odd stricken glance that made her pause. Didn't he want to 
go? 

"Already? Well sure. We might as well. I uh I'll get a shower. Feel like a 
dog. Awfully hot today." He went heavily up the stairs. 

Gwen went downstairs to the basement and brought up several more cartons. 
She shut out doubts and fears as she worked. She had a deep suspicion that 
Pete was really reluctant to move, that he would back out of the move if she 
showed any signs of weakening. 

"But I won't weaken!" Gwen thought. "I've got to get away from Isobel! And 
I'm going to rescue Pete from Karen!" 

When Pete came down again, he helped her willingly. They packed some of the 
china from the kitchen, leaving only enough to use the next few days. Then 
they paused for dinner. 

Gwen couldn't keep from speculating eagerly on what the real estate dealer 
might suggest. 

"Remember that darling split-level near the school, Pete? Do you suppose 
that it's still for sale? That would be too much to hope for, I guess. Or 
that two-story red brick that was so pretty. They had roses in the yard, 
remember?" 

"Yeah. That was a pretty one. Had a garage with space for my tools." 

"Oh, yes. It did!" Gwen beamed at him in relief. It was the first sign of 
real interest he had shown. "What time is he going to call?" 

Pete shifted restlessly in his chair. "He didn't say. I suppose it takes 
time to find out everything." 

"Oh, sure. I wonder this is Friday. I wonder if he could find something so 
we could move next week." 

He was silent, staring down at his plate. 

Gwen tried to be quiet. She knew she sounded too eager. But she was eager. 
She could hardly endure this house another day. It held bad memories for her 
of seeing Karen naked that day, of making love with Isobel in the bedroom, 
of lying awake nights alone while Pete slept on the couch. She wanted to be 
done with this house forever. She wanted to start fresh with Pete, start 
over, with no bad memories to haunt them. 

After supper and dishes, Pete and Gwen started packing again. 

"I didn't know we had so much stuff," Pete growled, as he made a third trip 
down the stairs with a heavy carton. 

"It doesn't look like much till we move," Gwen said. 

"What in the world it's true!" said Karen Marshall's husky voice. 

Pete dropped the carton with a thud. Gwen whirled around to see the angry 
red-haired woman in the living room. She had evidently walked in the open 
front door. Her blonde balding husband stood behind her, blinking at the 
obvious disorder. 

"Of all the crazy stunts!" Karen exploded. "Larry phoned me and said you 
were thinking of moving! My God, here you are moving out! What's got into 
you kids?" 

Gwen drew herself up. "I think that's our business," she said, no longer 
concealing her dislike of Karen. 

"Oh, really! Miss High-and-Mighty! Too good for our games!" Karen taunted 
her furiously. The green eyes narrowed with rage. Her cheeks were as red as 
her hair. Floyd gazed from his wife, to Gwen, to Pete, back to his wife, his 
shy blue eyes blinking rapidly. 

"That isn't it," said Pete. "We we feel we must go. Gwen is-" 

Gwen cut in. She had no intention of confiding in Karen. "We have good 
reasons for going. And we are going! That's all!" 

"Now, Gwen. I was just going to explain-" Pete tried to say. 

Gwen swung on him. "It's none of her business!" she blazed, her cheeks warm. 

Pete gazed at her, that aloof look in his black eyes once more. 

Karen went over to Pete and leaned against him. Gwen watched with helpless 
wrath. 

"Oh, Pete, honey, you don't really mean it." Karen's voice was meltingly 
soft. "Tell me you don't really want to go. I know you don't want to." A 
long look passed between them that made Gwen seethe with fury. 

"No," said Pete quietly. "But we must go. I'll miss you." 

Gwen, out of the corner of her eye, saw the jerk of Floyd's short body. But 
Karen's husband uttered no sound. 

"Don't go," said Karen. Her hands closed on Pete's bare arm. He had rolled 
up his sleeves to work. Her long slender fingers closed on the tanned arm. 
The black hairs stood out against her creamy skin. 

"We've thought it over." Pete's voice was hoarse. 

She smiled up at him. "You haven't talked it over with me," she suggested. 
The red tip of her tongue darted out between her red lips. Pete gazed at her 
face as though he could never look away. 

Gwen felt turned to stone. This brazen woman used every dirty trick in and 
out of the book, she thought. 

"No," Pete agreed. "We haven't." 

"We could talk about it," Karen murmured. "Let's do talk, Pete." Gently she 
urged him to the door. 

Gwen regained her voice. "Pete! No!" she cried sharply. "We we have to pack! 
The dealer he's going to call!" 

"Tell him to call back later," said Pete. "We have to talk about this." 

Karen smiled. "We could go for a ride, and discuss it," she said sweetly. "A 
little trip, Pete. Just you and me." She reached up and kissed his ear in a 
nibbling kiss. Gwen saw the shudder go through Pete's body. "Pack a couple 
things, Pete, honey. I'll meet you out front in the car. We'll have a good 
time, Pete." 

"Yes," he said. "Yes!" 

"Oh, no!" cried Gwen, in anguish. 

He didn't seem to hear her. Karen laughed softly, and ran out the door. Pete 
raced upstairs. 

Gwen turned to Floyd. "Stop them! Can't you stop them?" she yelled. 

The sad blue eyes met hers, then flickered away. "No, I guess not," he said. 

"He's leaving me!" she cried. 

"He'll come back. They always come back," said Floyd's sad, shy voice. The 
plump face quivered, then set in a stony blank look. He and Gwen waited 
tensely. 

Pete raced downstairs. He carried a small kitbag and his jacket. He ran past 
Gwen as though he didn't even see her. 

"Pete!" She reached out to grab him, but he was gone. "Pete! Come back! 
Pete!" 

She followed him to the door. She saw him run out the walk and to the 
street. Karen was waiting in her car. He got in. Gwen heard her laugh as 
they started off. She gazed incredulously as the convertible roared down the 
street, turned a corner, and was gone. 

Floyd had followed her outdoors. She turned to him. 

"They're gone," she said stupidly. "They left! Pete left me!" 

"Hell come back," said Floyd. He walked slowly across the grass toward his 
own house. She saw him go in and shut the door. 

The phone was ringing. Gwen went inside and answered. It was the real estate 
dealer. 

"May I speak to Pete Anderson?" he asked. 

"Pete's gone," Gwen told him heavily. 

"I've found a house I think you'll like, Mrs. Anderson," the brightly 
professional voice went on. "I can show you the house tomorrow morning. Pete 
said you were anxious to move." 

"Yes, yes," said Gwen. "I'm anxious to move." She felt numb and unreal. A 
trance-like state seemed to grip her. 

"Shall I pick you up about ten tomorrow morning?" asked the dealer. 

"Yes. That will be fine." 

She hung up after making the arrangements. She sat down on the couch and 
waited for Pete to come back. She waited, and waited. 

Ten o'clock came, eleven, twelve. Pete did not return. 

Finally she realized he was not coming back that night. She went to bed, and 
slept as one drugged. She felt as though she were in a nightmare of 
unreabty. 

The next day, the dealer came. He was visibly surprised that Pete was not 
there. But he drove Gwen to see the house he had found. 

It was a lovely two-story brick house, with a garage. 

"There's a place for Pete's tools," said Gwen. Her voice broke. She was 
afraid she was going to cry. 

The dealer looked at her anxiously. He was a nice, middle-aged man, and he 
probably had a big family, she thought. Would she ever have a big famby? 
Would Pete ever come back to her? 

The dealer took her home. She promised to consult Pete and let the dealer 
know soon if they wanted the house. 

"If I knew on Monday," he told her, "I could make the arrangements right 
away. This house will probably sell fast." 

"I'll let you know," said Gwen. 

She went in the house and saw the cartons waiting to be packed, the couch 
pulled out from the wall, the china in its boxes, and she began to cry. 

Pete might never come back to her at all! That red-haired woman had taken 
him away by a snap of her fingers! Pete must not love her, thought Gwen, or 
he would never have left her like that. All her world had come down around 
her. 

 CHAPTER SIXTEEN 

Gwen tried to go on packing. But instead of accomplishing anything she found 
herself moving listlessly from one room to another. There didn't seem to be 
any reason for packing if Pete changed his mind. 

If he returned... 

If he decided he loved Karen and wanted to marry her... 

Or if he decided they would keep on living here and going to parties- 

Gwen felt paralyzed into inaction. She could do nothing till Pete returned 
and told her his decision. 

At noon she made some coffee, and drank cup after cup. It didn't even melt 
the ice block that was her body. She shivered in the heat of the hot July 
day. She thought she would never be warm again. 

The sound of the front door closing with a thud sent her racing to the 
living room. She was so certain it must Pete that she stared with blank 
disbelief at Larry Crawford. 

"Hi, Gwen," he said, with false cheeriness. "Thought I'd come over and talk 
a while." 

Her face crumpled up. "Pete's gone," she told him forlornly. 

His dark smooth face furrowed with concern. "Yeah, I heard. Say, baby, it's 
too bad. That Karen's a crazy woman." 

"He loves her!" Gwen's voice broke. "Pete loves that woman! He left me!" 

"Hey, now, don't cry." Larry came over and took her in his arms. He patted 
her back while she gulped back sobs. He made soothing noises. "Hey, now. Hey 
hey. Come and sit down, sweetie. It'll work out. Come on now. It'll be all 
right." 

He drew her over to the couch and sat down with her. She let herself be held 
and petted, but it didn't seem to help. She didn't want Larry to hold her, 
she wanted her own man, her own husband, Pete. Finally, she drew away from 
him and wiped her eyes with her wet handkerchief. 

"I'm all right," she told him, with some forced dignity. 

"Sure you are. You're fine," he said heartily. 

"You're too smart to let something like this throw you. Perk up. Have fun. 
While the cat's away, the mouse can play. How about that?" 

She didn't feel like playing. But Larry was trying to be kind. She was 
grateful for that. 

"Tell you what. We'll throw a party tonight," Larry suggested, after a 
pause. 

"A party?" She winced at the very idea. It was the last thing she wanted. 

"Sure. Barbara and I will have the gang over. We won't even miss Pete and 
Karen. We'll have a great time." He leaned over and kissed Gwen's damp 
cheek. "You're too sweet to waste," he added softly. He nibbled a series of 
kisses along her cheek down to her throat. She felt nothing but a numb 
impatience. 

"I don't feel much like a party," said Gwen. 

"Oh, you'll enjoy it once we get rolling." Larry was confident and 
exuberant. "Sure, it's the very thing. Get your mind off your troubles. 
Music, dancing, drinks, a little fun. And tomorrow Pete will probably be 
back." 

"Tomorrow? Do you think so?" That was the only remark he had made that 
appealed to her. 

"Sure. Pete's got a big deal cooking on Monday. He's too sharp a businessman 
to stay away. Besides, how much money did he take with him?" Larry looked at 
her expectantly. 

"Money?" Gwen gazed back vaguely. "I don't know." 

"Karen's an expensive girl. They probably went to a motel. And drinks 
she-likes champagne when she's on a kick. The money won't last long. They'll 
be back tomorrow." Larry seemed cheerfully optimistic. 

She let herself be swept into his plans. It was too much effort to resist 
him. All her thoughts were with Pete. Was he, even now, in bed with Karen? 
Was he bending naked over that red-haired woman, kissing her creamy tan 
skin, kissing down to the red hair that covered No! thought Gwen in a 
frenzy. She must not, must not think of them making love. It would drive her 
right out of her mind. 

Larry dashed off to get party supplies. Gwen sat on the couch, waiting for 
Pete to come back. She was still sitting there when Barbara arrived at five 
o'clock. 

The tall cool blonde took efficient charge. She encouraged and cajoled Gwen 
into taking a shower and putting on her blue sheath dress. She locked up the 
house and put Gwen in the car. She brought Gwen back to the Crawford house 
for supper, and Larry helped Barbara cover Gwen's silence with animated 
chatter about nothing. 

Gwen realized she should feel grateful to them. But she was not grateful. 
She wanted to be left alone to brood and wait in stillness for Pete's 
return. She wanted to prepare herself for the worst if Pete wanted a 
divorce. 

She tried to think how she could plan her life without Pete. But her mind 
shied away from such a terrifying prospect. 

Somehow the hours dragged past. Isobel and Don Hoover arrived. Don mixed 
drinks till Floyd Marshall came. Gwen was vaguely surprised to see Karen's 
husband. His face was flushed already from drinking, but he set to work to 
tend the bar. 

Ellie and Jim Roth came, then Nola and Arthur Stowell. Arthur danced with 
Gwen, and seemed to take Pete and Karen's absence as a personal affront. 

"They aren't supposed to do this," he growled in Gwen's ear. "Stupid thing 
to do. Nobody needs to run off with anybody. What's the matter can't they 
stand the rest of us?" 

She didn't try to answer that. Arthur patted her back clumsily and told her 
she was a sweet kid. 

"A little naive. You just need to sharpen up some. Get rid of the backwoods 
attitudes, that's all," said Arthur. 

The words didn't penetrate her misery. 

Don took over smoothly. "Hi, sweetie. Glad you came," he told her, moving 
her easily around the room. "No sense staying at home and brooding. Why 
don't you come over and live with Isobel and me till Pete gets back?" 

She shivered. 

"Are you cold, baby? Let's get away from this window. It's breezy tonight. 
Bet it's going to rain." 

He brought her over to where Isobel was sitting and left her with his wife. 
Gwen could hardly conceal her repulsion. The incident with Isobel and Don 
was still very vivid in her mind. 

After a while she realized she was not the only nervous person at the party. 
Floyd was drinking so heavily he was soon incapable of mixing any drinks. He 
drank his straight from a squat orange-colored bottle. Larry shook his head 
at Floyd, and propped him in a chair to be comfortable. 

Even Isobel seemed on edge. She watched Gwen's face, and jumped when Gwen 
spoke. 

Presently Isobel said softly, "It wasn't what we did, was it, honey? You 
didn't tell Pete-" 

"Yes, I told him," Gwen said dully. 

"Oops, I bet that was a goof." Isobel wrinkled her nose prettily. Her blue 
eyes avoided Gwen's. "He probably isn't that sophisticated yet, honey. You 
should have waited. But since he's gone, why don't you come over tonight and 
we can have fun?" 

Gwen thought of several remarks she could make, but she was too weary to 
make the effort. 

Presently Larry was sitting where Isobel had sat. Gwen could not remember 
when Isobel had left her. Larry's arm slid smoothly around Gwen's waist. 

"Getting a bit tired, sweet?" he suggested. 

"Yes. I'm tired." Gwen looked around for Pete so they could go home. Then it 
hit her again that Pete was not there. Pete was with Karen. 

"Want me to take you home, baby?" Larry kissed her neck. 

She moved her head away from his face. He had been drinking, and she 
suddenly felt repelled by the stale odor of the liquor. 

"We'll go home," Larry concluded, when she was silent. 

It seemed like a good idea. She wanted to be alone. The noise and sharp 
piercing laughter of the party were too much for her. 

"Yes. Home," said Gwen. Larry helped her get up. 

Barbara's blonde face, expressionless as usual, came into Gwen's 
consciousness as Larry helped her to the door. Gwen smiled vaguely in 
Barbara's direction. The red bps stretched in an empty smile of reply. The 
cool blue eyes were not affected. 

Larry drove Gwen home. He inserted the key in the lock and opened the door. 
They went inside. The house was empty, silent. 

'Tb help you, baby," said Larry. He moved her toward the stairs. 

"I can go up alone-" Gwen told him. Her voice sounded thick and blurred even 
to herself. How much had she drunk this evening? She remembered that cool 
glasses had been pressed into her hand time and again. 

"I'll help you, sweetie. Cute little sweetie." Larry's arms were around her 
as they moved slowly up the dark stabs to the upper floor. 

He helped her get to the bedroom. He hadn't turned on the lights. She knew 
he should leave, but it seemed too much effort to push him away. 

In the darkness his hands began to unzip the long zipper of the sheath 
dress. 

"I can do that-" said Gwen, moving away on unsteady feet. 

"Hold still, Gwennie. I'll do it." 

His big hands caught her, held her still. The zipper slithered along her 
spine. His hands shoved the material off her shoulders and pulled it down 
till it lay in a puddle at her feet, trapping her. The hands, impersonal in 
the darkness, unfastened the brassiere, and took it from her. Then the 
panty-girdle was pulled and tugged from her waist down over her thighs. The 
stockings came down with it. The shoes fell off. She stood naked her feet 
tangled in the pool of discarded clothing. 

Larry lifted her out of the tangle and carried her over to the bed. In her 
dazed state, she still knew it was Larry, and not Pete. 

"You better go-" she told him, thickly, as he laid her down across the bed. 
She flopped where she fell, and lay motionless. It was so good to rest. 

"No. Not going tonight," he said. 

She heard slight sounds as he undressed. The sliding of cloth, the thud of 
shoes. Soon he came over to her. His warmth, the smell of liquor, the odor 
of masculinity came close to her, seemed to hover over her. 

She smelled shaving lotion and tobacco and drink and sweat and a sort of 
musky, sexy odor as he bent near. It was not the clean smell of Pete. It was 
not Pete! 

She tried to protest. "No not you. Not you." She put up her arms to ward him 
off. 

He was too close, too excited, too insistent. Big hands parted her warm 
thighs. A big masculine body came down on her, knees bumping her knees, as 
he slid into position. 

"No," she protested feebly. "No. No. No. No." 

He didn't answer. She was limp and unresisting as he took her. She had no 
strength to fight him off. A large hard instrument pushed its way into her 
yielding softness. 

If only he were Pete! Tears began to trickle from her eyes, and flow down 
her cheeks. She wanted Pete. Only Pete. Nobody but Pete. No one else could 
satisfy her. She wanted no one but her own dear husband, much as he had hurt 
her. 

Larry bent closer. His mouth bit at her tender breasts in savage urgency. 
His hardness lunged deeper into her, cleaving its way up high and far. 

"Sweetie," he whispered. "Little sweet kitten soft pussy cat. Little pussy." 

He was moving on her, kissing her, biting the nipples of her breasts till 
they stood out in mechanical response to his skillful handling. She felt no 
emotional reaction to him. She lay as though lifeless. 

"Come on!" he said sharply, after a while. "Give, pussy cat! Come on!" 

She had nothing to give him. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Her face was wet 
with the pain of needing Pete, of having lost Pete. 

"Gwen?" Larry said warningly. "Gwen?" He rubbed his hands over her swollen 
breasts with rough urgency. He bumped at her with his hips, trying to find 
some reaction to him. She simply yielded, and let him push and pull her as 
he pleased. 

His hands found her face. He felt her cheeks. "Hey? Are you crying." 

"Yes," she said. 

"Aw for crap's sake aw-" Larry's voice sounded savage, unsure. "Come on, 
baby. Forget that stupid lunk! He's a dope. He knows nothing about dames! 
He's a hick with nothing but size! Come on! I know all the tricks there are! 
I can give you ten times the fun he can!" 

"I love him," said Gwen, on a sob. 

"Aw! Hell!" 

For a minute, she thought he would strike her. Then he settled down on her 
with silent fury. He used her as one would a rag doll, lunging at her 
limpness, holding her body in hard hands, thrusting in and out, in and out, 
till the very violence of his own motions brought him relief. 

She lay passively as he finished in her. The jetting bursts meant nothing to 
her. She was thinking again about Pete, wondering if he was making love to 
Karen. 

Larry pulled out, and flung himself away from her. He lay quiet, breathing 
hard. Then he sat up. 

"Gwennie?" He touched her wet hips with intimate fingers. "Want fun now? 
Getting hot?" 

"No. Go away," she said dully. 

He cursed under his breath. "Oh, you baby!" he told her. 'You'll beg for me 
some day!" He slapped at her thighs with a careless hand. "Web, I'm going. 
When you're through crying for that stupid lunk, cab me up. I'll come over 
and give you a good time." 

She was silent. 

He left, muttering. She didn't care what he thought of her. He probably 
thought she was a naive child who didn't know what she wanted. 

He was wrong, she thought. She knew what she wanted. It wasn't Larry or Don 
or Isobel or anybody in the gang. It wasn't any sex trick anyone could teach 
her, no special thrills anyone could make her feel, no skilled techniques. 

She just wanted Pete, her husband, back home safely in her arms. 

 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 

Gwen slept a little, wakened, slept again, listening all through the night 
for the sounds that would mean Pete had returned. She heard nothing. 

Morning found her unrefreshed, tired, yet unable to rest. She finally got 
up, took a long lukewarm bath, and then padded downstairs in, her housecoat 
to make coffee. 

Her head throbbed in a headache that came and went and came again. She 
rubbed fretfully at the back of her neck, and kneaded the taut hard knobs 
that seemed to control the nerves. 

The huge Sunday paper arrived with thump at the front door. She spread it 
out and read pages of it, without knowing what she read. Finally she blinked 
heavily with lack of sleep. Finally she pushed the papers off the couch, 
curled up in a ball and went to sleep again. 

She slept and wakened, drank coffee, waited, through a lazy, hot July 
Sunday. Nothing in the neighborhood seemed to move or be abve. Several times 
she gazed at the Marshall house next door. She thought she saw movements of 
someone in the living room. Floyd, probably, she thought, waiting for Karen 
to come home. 

Floyd had said they would come back. How did he know? she wondered. Was it 
what Larry had said? That Karen and Pete would come back as soon as then 
money ran out? 

Gwen's nose wrinkled with distaste. 

It all seemed so sordid, so animalistic. She thought about that. She had 
called Pete an animal for the way he went after her. Was it she who didn't 
understand a man and his needs? A man must have strong physical desires, 
thought Gwen, that made him give up his freedom for marriage, in order to be 
able to satisfy these terrible hungers. 

And Pete had acted strangely ever since she had admitted lesbian relations 
with Isobel. Had that driven him to Karen? 

Gwen's eyes widened with the shock of that thought. Pete had been disgusted 
with her. And jealous! That had driven him away! 

"Oh, no! No!" she muttered. And yet yet I understand, she thought. Oh, I 
understand now. So much is clearer now! 

She felt years older as she sat there. All the episodes that had puzzled her 
began to fall into place and be recognizable. 

"Now I know how to make love with Pete," she murmured. "Now I know what to 
say-and what not to say! Oh, if Pete would only come back to me now!" 

Somehow she felt more calm and confident, now that she had straightened out 
the confusion of her mind. She went upstairs and dressed, then began packing 
linens and clothes. 

When Pete came back, they would move. Gwen would never risk staying here, 
she vowed. Not with the menace of Isobel and the meaning of Gwen's relations 
with her. 

"I'm sorry for her, but she's not going to drag me down to her level," Gwen 
said to herself as she worked busily. "She won't make me lose Pete!" 

Evening came. Gwen stopped, and fixed supper of bacon and eggs. She ate with 
real appetite. She planned the next day's activities. 

"If Pete isn't back, I'll call the dealer myself." She smiled with a little 
grimace as she talked aloud to herself. "I'll tell him to go ahead and 
arrange the deal. Pete can sign the papers when he returns. And we will 
move." 

As though Gwen's calm resolution had power of its own, Pete and Karen 
returned about an hour later. Gwen heard the car drive up noisily. 

She went to the window and stood behind the curtain to watch, dry-eyed. Pete 
took his suitcase out of the car and slammed the door. He did not seem to 
look at Karen as he walked slowly away from her. She drove on the few feet 
to her front walk, and parked. 

Karen got out, took her suitcase from the back, and swaggered up the walk 
toward her house. 

Gwen went to the door to open it for Pete. He glanced up, saw her. A 
defiant, uneasy expression crossed his face. His mouth seemed hard. His face 
was reddish, his eyes red-rimmed as from lack of sleep. 

"Well, here I am," he growled, coming in. He thumped down the kit-bag as 
though to defy her to throw him out. 

"Have you had supper?" Gwen asked mildly. 

He glared at her. "Huh?" 

She turned to walk to the kitchen. Her knees felt weak, and she had to walk 
stiff-legged so she wouldn't fall. 

"Would you like bacon and eggs?" she called back over her shoulder. 

"Huh? Well yeah I guess. Got any coffee?" 

"I'll make some fresh. I drank most of this." 

She poured out the dregs, rinsed the pot and refilled it with water. She was 
proud of her steady hands. 

Pete sank down on a kitchen chair and propped his head on his hands. 

"The dealer showed me a lovely house yesterday," Gwen said. She broke an egg 
with care over the sizzling skillet, then picked up the spatula to turn the 
bacon. "It was a brick two-story. A garage. Space for your tools." 

"Look Gwen!" Pete's voice was harsh. He raised his head. "I can't decide 
on-" 

A scream bit into his words. A loud piercing feminine scream. 

"Karen!" yelled Pete. He knocked over the chair in his haste to rise. He ran 
out the back door. 

Gwen turned off the fires and followed him. Somehow she knew what was 
happening. Floyd, quiet patient Floyd, had exploded with his suppressed 
fury. 

Even though Gwen knew, she was not prepared for the scene as she followed 
Pete unceremoniously into the open French windows of the house next door. 

Karen was on her knees, sprawling, held up only by the clutch of Floyd's 
hands on her throat. The short stout man, his face red and vacant, his eyes 
staring in a frightening, blank way, shook her back and forth. As Pete and 
Gwen dashed in, Floyd knocked Karen's head against the coffee table. The 
thud was horrible. Karen's head sagged back. The bright orange-red hair was 
staining with a strange darker red that flowed from the gash on her white 
forehead. 

"Oh God!" Gwen screamed, appalled. 

Floyd didn't seem to hear. His big hands choked the thin throat, and Karen's 
face was purpling. 

"Gwen!" Pete caught her arm. "Call the police! The phone there!" 

He pushed her toward the phone, then rushed toward Floyd. The three figures 
swayed as Pete fought to tear the killing hands from Karen's throat. 

Gwen dialed, got the police. An impersonal voice answered. 

She gave the address. "Oh please hurry hurry! He's choking her please- 

"We'll have men there right away," the voice assured her. 

She hung up, whirled as something fell against her leg. She fought revulsion 
as she saw Karen's limp body at her feet, a shoulder brushing her leg. 

Pete was wrestling with Floyd, slowly forcing him over to the couch. They 
fought with grim doggedness. 

Gwen reassured herself that Pete was more than a match for the drunken man. 
Then she bent over Karen. As she straightened the limp body, blood gushed 
over her hand. The sticky warm liquid made Gwen suddenly, violently sick. 

But there wasn't tune to be sick. She took a cloth from the couch, one of 
Karen's scarves. She bound it tightly over the gash to stop the gush of 
blood. Then she knelt beside the girl to fell her pulse. 

"All right, miss. We'll take care of her." A brisk voice made her look up at 
the big blue-uniformed man beside her. 

"Oh thank God-" Gwen whispered. She leaned back and wiped her trembling 
hands on her dress. "Her head a big gash on the forehead and in back-" 

The policeman knelt on the other side of Karen. 

Gwen looked around. Another policeman and Pete stood beside the couch where 
Floyd lay in a semi-stupor. His eyes still rolled in madness. Gwen 
shuddered. 

The high wail of an ambulance struck her tense nerves like the whine of a 
power saw. More men came, some in white coats. They bent over Karen, then 
put her on a stretcher. Pete was talking to the policeman, who listened with 
stern calm. 

Gwen sat still on the rug. She felt mindless and empty, as though what had 
happened had nothing to do with her. She was still wiping her fingers 
mechanically on her dress, wiping fresh red stains on the pretty blue print. 

"I'll take my wife home." She heard Pete's voice clearly, through the dim 
fog surrounding her. 

"Pete," she whispered. 

He came over to her and lifted her up. She clung to him until the dizziness 
left her. 

"Can you walk, Gwen?" His anxious face was near hers, a gentle tenderness in 
his tone. 

She nodded. "Yes." 

"You go on home, then. We'll talk to you tomorrow," said a policeman. 

The policeman remained in the house as Pete led Gwen out the French windows, 
across the grass to their own home. 

Home? No, just a house, thought Gwen. An empty, loveless house she would be 
glad to leave. 

In the house, she seemed to find new strength. She said, with some calm, 
"I'll change my dress." 

"I'll come up with you if you want." His face still showed the shock of the 
incident. 

"No. I can manage," she told him gently. 

She went upstairs, washed and changed. Then she came down again. Pete was 
sitting in the kitchen, huddled miserably at the table. 

She started fresh bacon, and plugged in the coffee pot. 

"I didn't think we were hurting anybody," Pete finally told her. "I really 
didn't think anybody cared what we did." 

"I know. But we cared," said Gwen. She went to him and drew his head back to 
her breast. She bent over him in pity and in love, caressing his dark curly 
hair, soothing the misery from his face. "We cared. I care, Pete. I care 
terribly. I hurt all the time you were gone." 

He took her hand and pressed it to his mouth. As she stroked his face with 
her other hand, she found his face wet with tears. She held him in silence, 
her heart full of pain and gratitude, that he had gone, and that he had 
returned. 

 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 

Pete slept the sleep of exhaustion. Gwen woke up several times in the night, 
jerking to consciousness with the sudden nightmare recollection of what had 
happened. 

She reached out to Pete, touched the sleeve of his pajamas, and clutching 
the cloth went back to sleep again. 

In the morning, she rose early to fix breakfast. Pete came downstairs and 
out to the kitchen. She looked up and smiled brightly. 

"It's almost ready oh, Pete! Aren't you going to work?" She stared in 
surprise at his plaid shirt and old work pants. 

"No. I thought we'd get ready to move. I'll call the dealer. You said he 
thought we could arrange it all today?" 

"Yes. He said that." She was quivering with deep relief. She set the coffee 
pot on the table near Pete, and poured his first cup. "The the house is is 
empty. There were tenants they moved to an apartment. Some company wants to 
trade." 

"Fine. His office opens at nine. We'll see about signing the papers today." 

She ventured a faint reminder. "Don't you isn't there anything you have to 
do at the office today?" 

He frowned. "Oh, there's a deal. Larry and I were to see a man. But he's 
Larry's client really. Larry can handle that." He rubbed his hands over his 
flushed face. "I'll cab Larry, tell him what happened. It's too early now. 
I'll cab him later." 

After, breakfast, Pete phoned the dealer. He asked them both to come down to 
sign papers. So Pete and Gwen changed hurriedly and drove into town. 

"You haven't seen the house yet," she reminded him. 

"We'll run out there first. But I guess it'll be fine." 

She was about to say it was near a school, but she stopped herself. By the 
stricken look on Pete's face, he was still thinking of the near-tragedy. 
This was not the time to make him plan for their future. She must be 
content, she thought, with dearly-bought wisdom, to move away from the crowd 
and give him time to adjust. 

Pete glanced at the house, talked to the dealer about the financial 
arrangements, looked at a report on the condition of the house. Then they 
signed papers, and it was done. 

"That's it," said Pete, as they drove home. "I wonder what would have 
happened if we had bought a house like that when we were married?" 

Gwen moved closer to him on the car seat. She put her hand in his arm and 
rested her head on his shoulder. 

"I love you, Pete," she said, a choke in her voice. 

"I love you, too, Gwen." He rubbed his cheek briefly against her hair. 

They were both tired, but felt driven to pack more things. Pete phoned the 
movers, and found one who could move them the next day. 

"Shall we, Gwen?" he asked, looking over at her. 

She nodded. He cleared his throat. 

"Yeah, that'll be fine," he said briskly. "What time can you come in the 
morning?" 

When he had hung up, he said, "Oh, gosh, I haven't phoned Larry!" 

They stared at each other. Pete rubbed his face. 

"Gosh," he repeated weakly. "I don't know how I forgot. I'd better call 
now." 

He phoned the office. Larry wasn't there. Pete's mouth had white lines 
around it as he hung up. 

"I hope he'll understand," he muttered. "Gosh. I don't know how I forgot." 

"I'm sure he'll realize with the accident and everything how you came to 
forget," Gwen said. 

They sat on the couch, holding hands like children. Yet she didn't feel 
dismayed. Pete could cope with anything, and anyone, she thought. She 
squeezed his hand encouragingly. 

"It'll be okay," she said. "I'm sure it'll be okay." 

"I could call him at home. But maybe he isn't home." He didn't reach for the 
phone. He didn't really want to talk to Larry, she realized. 

Was Pete afraid of Larry? She was thunderstruck at this new idea. Was Pete 
afraid to do or say anything that Larry would not like? That was not a good 
relationship with one's employer. She searched her mind for evidence, but it 
was all rather vague and new. 

"Hey anybody home?" The cheerful voice made them start. At the banging on 
the front door, Pete jumped up. 

"Larry!" he said. "It's Larry." He flung open the door. Larry stood there, 
beaming. Barbara was just behind him. Coming up the walk were Isobel and Don 
Hoover. 

"Come in, come in," said Pete, with false heartiness. Gwen knew that quiver 
in his cheek meant he was much more tense than he seemed. "Say, I completely 
forgot to call you. I meant to, then we got all involved in this real estate 
deal-" 

"Real estate deal?" Larry came in, hearty and cheerful and exuberant. He 
grinned at Gwen and she thought abruptly of the way he had made love to her 
only two nights ago. There was a knowing familiarity in his glance that made 
her keenly uncomfortable. "What's all this about? You're not moving?" 

He made it sound very childish and stupid as he kidded them about being in a 
hurry. Isobel and Don followed Barbara into the house. Don joined his outcry 
to Larry's. 

"You're not moving? All for a silly incident? Oh, come on, now! The 
excitement will die down." Don flung himself casually onto the couch. Gwen 
drew up chairs for the others. The living room seemed to burst at the seams 
from all the exuberantly cheerful guests. 

"Karen is getting along fine," Isobel contributed. "Don and I went to see 
her. She's sitting up and yelping for a good drink. I bet that hospital 
doesn't hold her long!" She giggled, her blonde face crinkling with mirth. 

Gwen stared at Isobel. "Sitting up? Why last night those gashes-" 

"Oh, she lost some blood, that's all. Larry pulled Floyd out of jail and 
sobered him up. Why in the world did you call the police?" Don looked 
genuinely puzzled. "We could have handled all that." 

Pete said, his voice strained, overly-polite, "Floyd did seem to be killing 
Karen." 

Larry and the girls laughed out loud. Barbara's laugh was high, unnatural. 

"Oh, they always fight," said Barbara, in her chilly formal voice. 

"Then they make up," added Isobel. "Karen loves to be dominated. She'll 
probably be faithful to Floyd for a while till a new man comes along." 

"But she shouldn't do that weekend bit," added Don thoughtfully. "She ought 
to stick around home. Floyd gets mad if she's gone for a couple days. She 
should just keep her fun in the crowd." 

"That's right," agreed Isobel, as calmly as though they were discussing the 
virtues of marketing in town versus marketing in the neighborhood. "She 
should stay near home." 

Gwen's nerves were raw. She burst out, "Oh, I think the whole thing is 
horrible! The way you sleep around, the way you make love with each other! 
Love? You degrade the word! You don't know what love is! All you think about 
is clever sex techniques!" 

"Well, listen to the little girl with all the answers!" Larry's tone had 
turned frigid. His dark eyes narrowed and glittered like an angry cat's. 

She swung on him fiercely. "I know some answers you don't! I know what's 
right and what's wrong! I know you say this doesn't hurt anybody! It does 
hurt! It does! Floyd was hurt that's why he kit Karen! I was hurt when Pete 
left." 

"How touching," said Barbara's dry cool voice. 

Gwen turned to her. "And you're hurt," she added, more gently, "every time 
Larry makes over another girl. But you're afraid to say anything for fear 
you'll lose him." 

Barbara's eyes flickered with fear? Gwen thought so. 

"Your feeble efforts at psychoanalysis are amusing," Barbara said. Her voice 
was shrill, her hands locked together so that the knuckles were white. 

"Analyze all you want," Larry cut in. "But you're not leaving! Don't be a 
fool! You'll wreck Pete's career if you keep on." 

Gwen lifted her head proudly. "Pete will manage very well among decent 
people. He doesn't need to pander to a crowd and neither do I! My body is 
not for sale to my husband's employer, or to any of his friends!" 

Isobel gasped aloud. Don laughed, his face flushed. Barbara gave Gwen a long 
speculative look. 

Larry was furious, his eyes so narrowed the pupils glimmered in slits. "Get 
your wife to shut up!" he told Pete. "She'll cut your throat for you. A fool 
like that could do a lot of damage!" 

"My wife is not a fool." Pete faced him sturdily, his head high. "Gwen is 
the smartest person here. She sees things the way they are. She isn't 
deceived by appearances and cynical talk." 

Gwen gazed at him, her heart so full it seemed to be bursting. "Oh Pete-" 
she breathed happily. 

Larry glared at them both. His face was set and ugly for so handsome a man. 
"Careful, Pete! You're going too far!" he warned sharply. "I could throw a 
lot of business your way-" 

"For the price of some sex with my wife? No, thanks," said Pete. The white 
lines around his mouth were clearly visible against his tan. "From now on, 
she's my wife. And no other man touches her!" 

"Keep her!" Larry sneered. "You're both damn prudes! Keep her! But you don't 
keep your job. You're fired! I can't stand prigs!" 

Gwen's knees seemed to buckle. She caught hold of the door frame. She didn't 
remember getting up, but they were all standing now, glaring at each other. 

The silence following Larry's words was hard to break. Pete did it. 

"Then I'm fired," he said quietly. "My wife is not for sale-or hire." 

Larry cursed them both. He ran out of the house. Barbara hesitated, looking 
at Gwen strangely. Then she followed her husband. 

"Well, that tears it," said Isobel lightly. "Come on, Don." 

Without a backward glance, the two left. The house seemed cleaner and nicer 
after their departure. 

"That's that," said Pete heavily. He closed the door and turned back to 
Gwen. 

"Oh, Pete, I'm sorry about the job. But I'm so proud so proud of you!" She 
came into his arms, and began to shake with relief. He held her tightly. 

"I'm not really sorry," Pete told her after a pause. "I'm glad. I can get a 
job with another insurance firm. I've talked to a man he wants me to come in 
with him. It won't be as much pay, though." 

"I don't care. I'll manage," she assured him. "Really, I don't care, Pete. 
We don't have to have everything at once." 

He kissed her hair. They held each other lightly. 

"We couldn't go on living like this," he said. "We don't have to live like 
this. Gosh, Gwen, I was so mad, jealous of all those guys." By the reserve 
in his tone, she knew he meant Isobel, too. 

"I know, honey. I know. We won't do that ever again, not ever," she said. 

In bed that night, then last night in suburbia, Gwen waited for Pete to come 
to her. She felt free and happy as she lay there. They were leaving; the 
torment was over. 

Pete came from the bathroom, snapping out the lights as he came. He was a 
dark shadow in the moonlight as he walked over to the bed. Her heart caught 
in an excited pause, then beat double-time for a moment, as she realized he 
was naked. 

He lay down beside her, and put one hand on her breast, gently. 

"Gwen, darling," he murmured with assurance. His palm cupped the breast and 
squeezed it. 

"Yes oh, yes, Pete!" she responded. 

His hands stroked her body through the thin nightdress. He bent over her and 
his mouth opened as he pressed it to hers. His tongue licked her lips in a 
slow tantalizing circle, flicking, tasting. She opened her mouth and her 
tongue darted out to touch his. They kissed deeply, tongues exploring, 
pressing. His hands flowed over her breasts and shoulders and arms in gentle 
caresses. 

"Oh oh-" she whispered, as fires began building in her stomach and thighs. 
"Oh Pete darling Pete-" 

His hands lifted the hem of her nightdress. She sat up as he drew it higher. 
He lifted it up and off her head, then tossed the nightdress away into the 
darkness. When she lay down again, he lay with her, sliding over between her 
welcoming legs. 

His hands began caressing her naked flesh. Smoothly circling, they touched 
her breasts, cupped and fondled them. He bent and kissed each nipple till it 
was taut and hard with desire. All the time his hips were moving in slow, 
cautious, sliding gestures. He bumped against her tenderness, and she 
shivered with anticipation. The hardness meeting her softness made her hot 
and melted and burning and wanting, all at once. She bent her knees and 
enclosed him, begging silently for more. 

He made her wait, teasing her deftly with sliding movements that paused at 
the delicious places, then went on. 

She thought, "He knows just how to build me up! He knows." The knowledge was 
good, yet she felt strangely depressed for a moment. 

They had both learned plenty, those suburban nights. Gwen had learned from 
men and one woman. Pete had taken lessons from expert mistresses. 

But the price of knowledge had been high. Some knowledge is too expensive, 
Gwen decided. From now on, they would keep their own standards and values. 
They could not endure to live by the standards of some other people such as 
the Karens and Larrys of this world. 

Then Gwen's thoughts returned to the present, for Pete was moving more 
rapidly. His bps pressed to her breast, he placed his hips in line with the 
focus of his desire. Then, gently pressing, he made entrance. 

Her desires warmed to a high heat. She lifted her hips off the bed to make 
it easier. He drew back. 

"Oh, Pete!" she begged. "Now now! Oh, darling!" 

He came forward with a rush. He slid deeply, smoothly to the hilt, encasing 
his sword in velvet. She moaned with joy to feel his greatness in her. 

The room was silent except for the soft sounds that came from her throat. 
She heard herself cooing with ecstasy. Flutters deep inside her increased to 
spasmodic grippings which held him, released, clutched again. 

He was gasping with keen pleasure, lying tight and high. His hands clutched 
her arms. He bowed his head to her shoulder, and his mouth kissed her flesh 
with open wet kisses as they swayed on the bed. 

"Ah, ah, ahhhh," she cried out. "Ahhhhhh!" She fell back, limply, as the 
keen ecstasy of his release met the exploding fluctuations of hers. For a 
long moment she felt as though she were dying of joy. 

He fell over on her, and she held him closely to her breast; her husband, 
her darling, home safe again. With her new hard-bought knowledge, she 
realized she could keep him here in her arms, and happy forever. She vowed 
silently to do this. And the doing would give her as great pleasure as it 
gave him. 


End
