On impulse he decided to give it another try that night. Not with Lori, of course. But what about Miss Field Mouse? She was quiet and inoffensive, and he was going to get rid of her anyway, so what harm one more bash?
He didn’t even fancy her, so it would be real proof if he could make it with her.
He vaguely remembered where she lived. She was sure to be home, so he had another brandy and set off.
Hammering on her door, he found himself as hard as a rock.
She got out of bed to answer the door, clutching a woollen dressing gown around her. Lank brown hair, sallow pinched face. ‘Mr. Cooper!’ she exclaimed.
He pushed past her, taking his clothes off and dropping them on the floor. ‘Get undressed,’ he commanded.
Averting her eyes, she obeyed him.
He took her savagely, pinning her puny body to the floor.
There was nothing wrong with him!
Chapter Seventeen
Linda never did phone and cancel Jay the next morning. He arrived, took them out to lunch, and the children were captivated.
He told them stories, played with them, and then they all went to a movie.
In the evening he stayed at the house for a bacon-and-egg supper and Linda found herself unable to break off the relationship. She put Miss Susan Standish to the back of her mind and continued going out with Jay. She liked him, the children liked him, Janey especially. He was wonderful with them.
It became a routine to spend every Sunday together. Jay always thought of new things for them to do, and they looked forward to their day out eagerly. It was a good thing, because since David’s last visit he had not been heard from. Linda was furious. It was a pleasure as far as she was concerned, but she thought it selfish and mean of David to completely ignore the children. They were constantly asking, ‘When’s Daddy coming?’ ‘Where is he?’ If it hadn’t been for Jay at weekends she was sure they would have been even more upset.
‘Doesn’t Daddy love us anymore?’ Janey asked sadly one afternoon.
‘Of course he does, darling,’ Linda replied, hugging her little girl to her. ‘He’s just very busy.’
‘I love Uncle Jay,’ Janey said solemnly. ‘He’s not too busy.’
So their relationship flourished, and at the end of a few weeks Linda found herself firmly in love with him. They went to the theatre, small intimate restaurants, large exciting parties, movies. In fact, they spent almost every night together and regularly every weekend. They went to the zoo, the park, museums and drives in the country.
He was amusing, attentive, interested in everything she did, but he never attempted more than a brief – almost brotherly – good-night kiss.
It started to drive her mad. Her body screamed out for some sort of attention. Whenever they danced, she would have to hold herself in tight check to prevent herself pushing her body intimately against him. When they kissed, she was in suspense waiting for him to go further. But he remained the perfect gentleman. Never touching her.
It reached a point where she decided she could go on no longer, and she resolved to bring it up at the next suitable moment.
The opportunity came sooner than expected. There was an end-of-film party at the studio. Linda was chatting to Jay and Bob Jeffries, the assistant director, when up marched Miss Standish. She was wearing the same white pants suit Linda had seen her in before. It suited her, complementing her glowing skin and tumbled blond hair.
‘Jay, darling,’ she murmured, ‘can I have a little word with you?’ She had sly eyes, a secret smile always present.
‘What is it, Susan?’ His tone was pleasant.
‘Privately.’
Jay shrugged his shoulders at Linda and Bob and walked away with Susan.
Linda said, ‘Is she in the film?’
Bob laughed. ‘At the moment she is, but I’ve got a feeling she’s going to land on the cutting-room floor.’
‘Oh.’ Linda quickly changed the subject. She didn’t want Bob to think she was jealous.
Jay returned quite soon and didn’t mention the incident, but Linda knew that as soon as they were alone she was going to bring it up.
After the party, joined by Bob Jeffries and his wife, they went to Annabel’s. It was impossible to talk there, and on the drive home there was the ever-present chauffeur.
‘You’re very withdrawn tonight,’ Jay said, his tone light.
She nodded.
‘What’s the matter?’ He was concerned.
‘I don’t want to talk now,’ she said, looking toward the chauffeur. ‘Come in for coffee if you like.’
She had never invited him into her house when he took her home before; perhaps she should have.
She left him in the living room and went into the kitchen. Now that she had him there, what was there to say? It was all so difficult. There were no words that could really express the way she felt.
Absently she placed some chocolate biscuits on a plate and fixed coffee.
He was sitting reading the evening paper. She felt at a complete loss for words as she handed him his coffee.
He solved the problem for her by speaking first. ‘I have to go back to Los Angeles in two weeks.’
‘Oh.’ She felt deflated.
He hesitated and then said, ‘How about coming with me?’
‘With you?’ For a few pleasant seconds she considered the possibility, then reality hit her. ‘That’s impossible, Jay. I can’t leave the children.’
‘Bring the children. They’d love it.’
She shook her head. ‘I can’t take them out of school. Anyway—’
He cut her short. ‘Linda, I’m not very good at this sort of thing. I’ve only ever said it to idiots before.’ He got up nervously. ‘Linda, I’m asking you to marry me.’ He rushed on. ‘I guess I love you. You’re the most wonderful, warm, giving woman I’ve ever met. I know you’ve been burned once, and I know how you feel – but believe me, I’ll try to make you happy. I’m not perfect. I’ve been involved with a lot of stupid broads – I’ve got a weakness for tall blondes I can’t deny – but if you’ll marry me, I think everything will work out, and I think we could make a wonderful life together.’ He paused. ‘Well?’
‘Jay.’ She whispered his name. ‘Yes, Jay, yes, yes.’
He kissed her. ‘Let’s do it soon, like tomorrow. I can’t wait for you much longer.’
She felt tears stinging her eyes. ‘I love you.’
He stroked her hair, then let her go. ‘Go to bed. I’ll call you first thing. I’ll arrange everything. The sooner the better, huh?’
She nodded. ‘The sooner the better,’ she murmured.
* * *
Claudia spent the days after Shirley and Conrad’s wedding in a drunken stupor. She drank a full bottle of Scotch a day, occasionally cramming her mouth with sleeping pills or tranquillizers until she reached a sort of happy oblivion. She didn’t eat, wash, or dress, just wandered around the apartment in sordid naked splendour.
The phone rang but she never picked it up. One day the door buzzer rang so insistently that she was forced to answer it.
It was Giles. ‘Christ!’ He was aghast at her appearance. He bundled her into a dressing gown and made her drink black coffee until her eyes started to focus and she could talk.
‘What kind of a trip have you been on?’ he demanded.
She shook her head. ‘I feel terrible.’
‘You look terrible.’
‘What day is it?’
‘God, you’ve really been away. It’s Monday.’
‘Monday. I guess I went on a little bender.’
He surveyed the room, empty Scotch bottles, broken records, overturned furniture. ‘I guess so. Who was the guy?’
She shrugged. ‘No one. Just felt like getting stoned alone. What are you doing here anyway? Thought you were in Spain.’
‘I’ve come bearing glad tidings. Your tits are world-famous.’
He produced a copy of Man at Play, one of the biggest-selling men�
��s magazines in the States.
He opened it and showed her the centre fold-out. There she was in solid colour standing on her terrace with London silhouetted in the background, wearing the pink shirt which Giles had hosed with water, her perfect rounded breasts standing out firm and full, the nipples rigid and pointed.
He turned the page. There she was lying on her bed, black negligee, breasts escaping, mouth half-open, eyes half-closed.
The next page and the next page were all of her. The caption said Beautiful London model and actress Claudia Parker shows us some of the better sights of Great Britain.
‘You’re a big hit,’ Giles said enthusiastically. ‘They want us to do a whole new series of photos. They’ll pay a bomb. Want us to fly to New York. Want you to meet Edgar J. Pool – owner of the magazine. This is your big chance, baby. This is successville.’
She studied the magazine. Why, oh why, had she cut her hair?
‘When do we go?’ she asked, her face lighting up.
‘As soon as we get you into shape. You look scrawny as hell, and that hair – we’ll have to get you a wig. Here, sign this.’
He thrust a paper at her which she signed without so much as a glance.
‘I’m going to book you into a health farm for a week. You really need it. I reckon about ten days from now we can go. I’ll let them know. They’re really wild for you – want you to be Miss Playmonth of the Year. Baby, you and I are going to be rich!’
* * *
Was it the fifth or sixth night David had spent with Miss Field? He couldn’t remember. He only knew it had become a habit to leave the office, eat dinner, have a few drinks, and then go hammering on her door.
She held a sort of morbid fascination for him. What was it that made sex with her so overpowering and exciting? It was certainly the most erotic experience he had ever had. She always crept to the door clutching her woollen dressing gown around her. He had to command her to undress. Then she took her clothes off reluctantly, revealing a thin, white, undernourished body. She was flat-chested, with flaccid nipples that didn’t even harden to the touch. However, when he was in her, pounding away, she held him in a grip of steel, squeezing and pumping the life out of him. Giving him no rest, holding him in her like a vice.
He hated her, but he couldn’t stop returning night after night.
During the day at the office neither of them mentioned it. She crept around quietly going about her business, mouselike as usual.
He wanted to break the habit.
A busty, provocative-looking girl called Ginny was doing an ad for his company. He manoeuvred an introduction, found her very attractive. She reminded him of a much sexier, more obvious version of Claudia.
He invited her out to dinner. She turned up in an almost topless, startling red dress. She had pink-and-white English skin and full pouty lips.
This was going to be all right, he decided.
During dinner she drank frozen daiquiris and giggled a lot. They danced, and her body was warm and bouncy. All the men in the restaurant were watching her, which made David feel good. At one point, during a vigorous dance, one full pink-and-white breast popped completely over the top of her dress, giving a delightful view of a pale brown nipple, pert and generous. She tucked herself back into her dress with an inane giggle.
David felt the time had come to take her back to his hotel. She put up little objection, and once there, it was an easy job to peel her out of the red dress.
She was wearing frilly pink panties, and her body was ripe. Her breasts were so big and bouncy and unbelievable that he had a sneaky suspicion that they weren’t breasts at all, just a lot of silicone injections put together.
He couldn’t do anything. There was no excitement.
Still giggling, she was given money for a taxi and sent home.
He went to bed, couldn’t sleep, until at last he was forced to get up and visit Miss Field. By the time he got there his excitement was at such a peak that he hardly made it on top of her.
She had a strange power over him.
He tried with several other women, but each time the same result. His life began to revolve around Harriet Field.
He found out about her. She was thirty years old and had been with the firm for twelve years, working her way up from the typing pool to become his private secretary. There was no gossip about her. She kept herself to herself. She was the office nonentity.
When he went to her at night they never talked. He just told her what to do and she did it, whatever it was.
Sometimes, after sex, she asked him if he would care for coffee or tea. He would always say no, and as soon as he could summon the strength, get up and go.
He wondered what she thought about it all. Why did she never say anything? The whole thing was unnatural.
The next time, of course, was later that same evening. He arrived earlier than usual, and she was still up, clutching a skimpy cardigan around her nonexistent bosom. Automatically she started to undress.
It was the first time he had ever seen her get out of her clothes; usually it was just a nightgown and dressing gown.
There seemed to be layers of them. Skirt, cardigan, sweater, a vest (one of the most unattractive garments he had ever seen), salmon-pink bra, a slip, long woollen drawers, and thick stockings. Shivering slightly, she stood before him.
She was certainly a randy bitch, he thought, always prepared. Always creamed up and ready to go. Probably been frustrated for years.
Maybe he should make her wait for it tonight. She was already lying on the floor, opening pale, sluggish legs.
He couldn’t make her wait. The burning desire he felt wouldn’t let him. He ripped off his clothes hurriedly and crouched on top of her.
She heaved a big sigh and they were away.
Afterward she put on her dressing gown and started to tidy his clothes, piling them neatly together, ready for him to put on.
He lay watching her. She really was plain – it wasn’t that she made the worst of herself, it was just that there was nothing one could do to improve her.
She noticed him looking and flushed. ‘Tea or coffee, Mr. Cooper?’
‘Both,’ he said abruptly.
She turned to go into the kitchen, and he had a feeling she would bring him both if he didn’t stop her.
‘Sit down,’ he said.
She sat hesitantly, crossing her feet at the ankles, clasping her hands on her lap in front of her.
‘I want to talk to you,’ he said.
They sat silently. After he had said he wanted to talk to her, he suddenly realized he didn’t want to talk to her at all, he just wanted to go.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said abruptly.
‘Is something wrong, Mr. Cooper?’
‘For God’s sake, don’t call me Mr. Cooper.’
She lowered her eyes. ‘Yes, David dear.’
Christ, she acted like the vestal virgin. She became so coy and retiring.
He stood up, decisions filtering through his mind. He would fire her on Monday, and this was positively the last time.
Maybe he should hammer it into her once more since this was his last visit. ‘Get across the table,’ he said wearily.
* * *
Linda and Jay were married a week later at Hampstead register office. Quietly, with no fuss.
Linda’s parents were present, surprised but happy. The children, dressed in their best clothes, were strangely subdued. A few friends of Jay’s and a few of Linda’s attended the ceremony.
Afterward they all went back to Jay’s hotel suite and ate wedding cake and drank champagne. It was very small, very informal.
Soon Linda’s parents said they should be starting the drive back to the country. They gathered together the children, who were going to stay with them, and said their good-byes.
Linda hugged Janey and Stephen to her. ‘Mummy won’t be away very long, and then we’re all going to live together in a beautiful big house with a swimming pool in America.’
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‘Wow – a swimming pool!’ Stephen said delightedly.
Janey was fighting back tears, her innocent chubby face concerned and worried. ‘I hope the plane doesn’t crash, Mummy.’
Linda laughed and hugged her. ‘Don’t be a silly baby.’
Jay picked up Janey and kissed her. ‘You be a good little girl, and Mummy will be back before you know it.’
Janey looked at him with big brown eyes. ‘Are you my new daddy?’
He nodded solemnly. Janey kissed him and scampered off to her grandparents. Soon the rest of the guests departed and they were alone.
Linda took off her hat and sighed. ‘I hate leaving the children.’
Jay laughed. ‘It’s only for a couple of weeks. You don’t mind if I have a little time alone with my wife?’
‘No, I don’t mind.’ She smiled at him. ‘I love you.’
There were several telegrams, one from Conrad and Shirley Lee, honeymooning in Mexico: Congratulations. English wives are best. They don’t want so much alimony. Love, regards, Conrad and Shirley.
A sarcastic one from Jay’s fifteen-year-old daughter: Best wishes, Daddy, on your fourth wife. Caroline.
‘She’s a fresh kid,’ he said grimly.
‘Why do you say that?’ Linda asked.
‘I don’t know.’ He shrugged. ‘I guess it’s my fault, really. She’s a tough little cookie – takes after her mother. I never spent any time with her, and Jenny didn’t remarry so I suppose it’s affected her, not having a father around.’
‘I’d like to meet her,’ Linda said quietly. ‘Maybe when we’re settled she could come and stay with us for a while.’
‘Forget it.’ He laughed brusquely. ‘Her mother would never allow it. Anyway, she’s not a child anymore. It’s too late for me to start stepping into the picture.’
‘She’s only a teenager. I think we should try it.’
He kissed her. ‘You’re sweet.’
She smiled and changed the subject. ‘I hope I’ve brought the right clothes for Jamaica. It’s all been such a rush.’
‘Are you sorry?’
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