by Joan Ellis
"There's Stephie," Terry gurgled, and hurried forward to greet him. "Angel, how are you?" Elaine caught the exchange of triumphant glances between them. They must have been betting on Terry's power to bring her here, she guessed intuitively.
"I'm so pleased you could make it," Stephie murmured softly, his eyes searching about. "Oh, there's Fred—wait here."
Stephie trundled off to collect Fred, giving Elaine time to inspect him. Terry was right—Fred was apparently the well-groomed, thoroughly masculine business executive. He even inspected his feminine guests with connoisseur-like tours. No, nobody would guess the relationship between Fred and Stephie, Elaine acknowledged, with a truant trace of concern about herself and Terry.
"Hello dear," Fred smiled briefly at Terry, then gave his full attention to Elaine. "Stephie's been raving about Terry's brilliant friend. You're an artist, isn't that it?"
"In a bastard fashion," Elaine smiled faintly. "Package designer, wedded to commercialism."
"So long as you're successful at it." His eyes trailed to Terry knowingly, then he lowered his voice. "Stephie simply adores Terry, you know. He says she feels just like a sister to him. You should hear them carrying on about clothes and such things." In a split second Fred had swerved from the sophisticated businessman to the amorous lover of Stephie. A second later that naked exchange between the two half-men was gone, and Fred was again the controlled business executive throwing a party.
Someone called Fred away then, and the other three wandered over to the bar, Elaine's eyes roaming interestedly now, ordering herself to forget everything else and enjoy this party. It was safe here. She was beginning to recognize faces here and there, from casual meetings, from having seen some of them perform in night clubs and the theatre. With a start of amazement she noticed Leila Armstrong, the tough, hard-hitting stage director who'd been at the helm of hits for a dozen years, emerging from a room somewhere to the rear, one arm about an exquisite ingenue who was giving Leila her absorbed attention. Now she remembered the story about Leila and her penchant for attractive ingenues. But nobody looked down on Leila Armstrong, Elaine reminded herself with a surge of satisfaction. She was highly respected, handled with deference. Leila Armstrong's private life was her own. Except, of course, for the dark, undercover whispers.…
"Why don't we go out on the terrace?" Stephie suggested. "Fred had it built especially for me." He furtively managed a pleased giggle. "I have this mad thing about getting sun every day you know."
Stephie escorted the other two out onto the terrace, then let out a startled "whoops!" and swerved them back inside. Elaine had caught a glimpse of the statuesque blonde with the television director. Evidently, they'd walked in on a private audition. A very private audition. The blonde's smart black chiffon cocktail dress had been pushed high above her thighs as she leaned back against the terrace railing, while the television director industriously labored to make contact.
As they moved back inside the lavish living room, Elaine heard the half-lit giggle of the blonde. Evidently, the intrusion had amused her. Actually, Elaine summed it up, this wasn't too different from many parties she'd attended—though this was her first in the company of Terry. She had always before made a point of showing up with a man.
By two Elaine was frankly yawning. Her head ached slightly from the pent-up tension of the earlier part of the evening. The whole rotten day depressed her, she thought with a rush of revulsion, suddenly anxious to be out of here.
"Terry, it's late," she began tentatively.
"Darling, the weekend's just beginning," Stephie reproached, then signaled to Fred to join them. "Sweetie, Elaine's so tired. Why don't the four of us go for a drive out in the fresh air somewhere?"
Fred slipped an arm about Elaine's waist, and Elaine knew exactly what he was doing. She could hear the thoughts of the uninitiated of the guests— "a handsome couple, don't you think?" Fred took malicious pleasure in deluding them, she guessed instinctively.
"This party’ll go on all weekend," he admitted candidly. "But they don't need me. The refrigerator's loaded, so's the bar. My man knows what to do. Now, why don't the four of us drive up to the house? It's only a mile above Larchmont—we could be there in less than an hour."
"Elaine, let's," Terry coaxed persuasively. "I've never been up to the house."
"Come on," Stephie backed her up. "We can find things for you to sleep in, if you're worried about such items," he suppressed another giggle. "It's wonderful up there. Over three acres, not a neighbor in sight. Just us and the quiet country air. Free as birds!" His eyes were laden with meaning.
"All right," Elaine capitulated with unexpected suddenness. Maybe this was exactly what she needed—to get away from the city, from familiar places and faces. To forget about everything except being.
"That's my good girl," Terry purred, her mouth curved into a pleased smile that promised Elaine lavish reward.
"Then come along," Fred prodded cordially. "Why waste more time with these slobs?"
Fred waited at the curb with Elaine and Terry while Stephie chased around the corner to the garage where Fred kept his car. Then they piled into the smart, expensive Citroen and headed for the parkway, Fred driving, Stephie installed beside him, Elaine and Terry in the rear. Terry reached for Elaine's hand, squeezed it tightly, then pulled it close to her. The back seat was beautifully dark as the car charged through the dark city streets. Elaine closed her eyes, willing herself to blank out everything in her mind except right now.
* * *
As they drove up the long circular driveway to the front of the house, Elaine sighed with pleasure. It was good to get away from the city. Fred's large rambling colonial was set smack in the center of his acreage, with century-old trees blotting out the outside world. Tomorrow morning would be lovely, she thought gratefully. Walking under those trees with their first autumn tints, the falling leaves crunching under their feet. Peace. Wonderful, exquisite peace.
"You're going to like it here," Terry whispered, her head nestled against Elaine's shoulder. "It'll be the nicest weekend ever."
Stephie made a gay production of showing them through the house, even though it was close to four already, and finally led them to their room.
"No sense in putting you separately," he said blandly. "That reminds me of the story of some foreign king who visited the White House and was caught by a guard chasing through the corridors late in the night." Stephie chuckled satanically. "Poor old king was searching for his queen."
"Stop jabbering like a fishwife," Fred ordered calmly. "I'm tired, and I'm sure everybody else is."
"Oh dear," Stephie sighed elaborately. "And here I was looking forward to a mad night of it."
"See you in the morning," Fred smiled at the two girls, then joshingly pushed Stephie in the direction of their own room, at the opposite end of the corridor.
Elaine had expected to toss and turn till daylight, the way she usually did when she was overtired and tense as she was now. Terry had abandoned conversation, puttering about with soft giggles in one of the pajama tops Stephie had supplied for them. By the time Terry climbed into bed, Elaine was already fast asleep.
It wasn't a pleasant sleep though, Elaine thought tiredly, waking up to the sounds of morning in the country. She frowned, trying to clear her head, to push off the sense of doom that weighed her down. It was that rotten dream, she realized slowly. Lord, what a crazy chaotic nightmare! The pieces were fitting together now in her wide-awake memory. Terry and Kathy, fighting furiously, ripping at each other, scratching, kicking, biting—and there was this high fence that kept her from getting through to stop them! And Kathy, sweet little Kathy getting the worst of it! Then Eric running to catch up with her, accusing her of planning it this way! She shuddered, hating the sharply-cut memory of the nightmare.
She slid quietly out of bed, to walk over to the window and glance out at the early autumn scene. Down below their bedroom, chrysanthemums bloomed in profusion, even now, and the trees were j
ust touched with the warm glow of yellows and reds. It was good to be here, she thought again, feeling at that moment strangely safe and immune to danger. So thoroughly confident her secret was safe.
After a cigarette, Elaine returned to bed, drifting off this time into a sleep that was so deep as to seem almost drugged.
"You going to waste the whole weekend sleeping?" Terry's voice broke into her consciousness.
"What time is it?" Elaine opened her eyes slowly.
"Past two. Stephie's getting breakfast ready." Terry was climbing into slacks and a sweater. "Nice of Fred's sister to leave her clothes out here. A little big but I can manage." She touched the fine soft wool of the slacks with satisfaction. "Expensive, I'll bet."
"What did Stephie rustle up for me?" Elaine chuckled, reaching across for a cigarette.
"These," Terry collapsed on the end of the bed, clutching winter-white slacks and a matching sweater. "They ought to fit you perfectly, you're built so lean and narrow." One hand reached over to fondle Elaine's hips.
"Hey, you two," Stephie bellowed at the door, "Breakfast is on the terrace. Hurry up!"
They were racing down the stairs in less than five minutes, Elaine having satisfied herself with a hasty splashing of water on her face and a hurried comb drawn through her easy-to-manage dark hair. Up here, Terry, too, abandoned the elaborately attractive make-up she wore unfailingly in town.
"Sleep well?" Fred inquired politely.
"Wonderfully," Elaine smiled, enjoying the smell of fresh coffee and bacon mingling with the crisp autumn air.
"How do you like my present?" Stephie extended is hand proudly, indicating a stunning platinum and diamond wedding band of elaborate width. "It's our third anniversary. Freddie gives me a new ring each year."
"It's beautiful," Terry gushed, her eyes turning to Elaine for confirmation.
"Very lovely," Elaine echoed, yet feeling uncomfortable inside. Did Stephie have to carry on this way?
Elaine devoted herself to breakfast, which was astonishingly good, letting the other three carry the ball of conversation. Her mind kept darting traitorously back to the city, to Eric and Kathy. Eric hadn't got the full impact of the antagonism bristling from Terry, had he? Not likely, she thought cynically, the way he'd lapped up her stupid flirting with him. But he couldn't root out a feeling of concern for Kathy. She was so tenderly vulnerable, Elaine admitted with mounting apprehension, so determined her marriage would be a perfect shining thing in their lives.
"Why so solemn?" Terry murmured mockingly. “Worrying about brother dear back in the city?"
Elaine felt ice race through her veins. Terry wasn't thinking of Eric at all. The truth lay bare in her brooding glance on Elaine. Terry, in her uncanny fashion, had pierced through to Elaine's naked thoughts.
"I was thinking about Truly Yours," Elaine lied, compelling herself to meet those probing eyes. "I'd like to know the account was definitely sewed up."
"Paul Hennessy has no chance against you, darling," Terry said silkily, yet Elaine knew she hadn't thoroughly accepted the lie.
The rest of the afternoon disappeared in a haze of lounging in the sun on the terrace, with the hi-fi lulling them into relaxation. Elaine allowed herself to think of nothing now, just to he there and lap up the autumn-tinged sun. The other three had already started drinking while Elaine still nursed her second cup of coffee.
Around five-thirty Fred announced he had to drive across-county on a business appointment.
"I'll be back by eight or a little after," he exchanged a loaded smile with Stephie. "If you get too hungry, eat without me."
When they heard the car crunching over the blue-stone of the driveway, Stephie broke into a wide smile.
"Well, there goes my future security, dears," he gloated. "Fred's meeting his lawyer, to have a new will drawn up. I'm to share with his sister. Wouldn't she be livid, if she knew?"
"Half of everything?" Terry's eyes popped with awe.
"Why not?" Stephie's eyebrows shot upwards. "I'm giving Fred the best years of my life, aren't I? I told him, if I was his legal wife I'd be protected."
"Is that kind of a will legal?" Terry pursued avidly.
"Of course. Fred's paying the lawyer a fortune to make sure nobody can ever break it. They're signing tonight." He leapt to his feet like a young faun. "That calls for a celebration, doesn't it?"
"Absolutely," Terry concurred, turning to Elaine for confirmation, an oddly appraising look in her own eyes.
"Congratulations," Elaine managed faintly.
"It's getting cool out here, anyhow. We'll go inside and have a drink by the fire. Fred has logs all set for us."
The three of them sauntered inside, Terry and Elaine falling into the low wide couch before the floor-to-ceiling fireplace. Stephie busied himself efficiently with starting the fire, then moved to the bar for drinks for them. It was pleasantly warm and restful, Elaine thought drowsily, clutching her drink, gazing into the fireplace. It really wasn't cold enough to be necessary, but Elaine enjoyed it. She'd forgotten the wonderful scent of birch logs burning in the country.
"I did a new batch of photographs last week," Stephie remembered. "I can show you these because they're a European couple who've gone back to Paris. I'm always most discreet, you know." His eyes glowed speculatively as they rested on Elaine.
Elaine knew if she hadn't been so comfortably relaxed with the Scotch inside her she'd have caught on instantly. As it was, it was a distinct shock to open the scrapbook Stephie nestled across her knees for Terry and her to inspect. The photographs were excellent, the color breathtaking—and the two French girls thoroughly nude. The photographs had been snapped outside, with the lush greenness of the grass and richly abundant gardens for background.
"Aren't they sensational?" Terry slipped an arm about Elaine's waist while Stephie refilled their glasses.
"They're quite—stunning," Elaine sought for a suitable word, her mind foggily anticipating Terry's next move.
"Why couldn't we have Stephie do a set of us?" Terry was murmuring, her fingers caressing Elaine's waist. "There's nobody here but us—it's the perfect time."
"I couldn't!" Elaine rose abruptly to her feet, the whisky glass precariously tilted.
"Darling, that's no way to treat Freddie's best Scotch," Stephie protested, then smiled as Elaine swigged it down in two choking gasps.
"Elaine, let's make Stephie do our pictures right now," Terry coaxed again, her head on Elaine's shoulder. "Please."
"But it's ridiculous," Elaine protested, not moving. The liquor cloaking her in a feeling of unreality, the pressure of Terry's body against hers generating a sense of urgency within her.
"All we have to do is undress and pose here on the sofa. Stephie can get all the shots he wants in ten minutes."
"I don't think it's a good idea, Terry," Elaine heard her voice as from a distance, knowing her will to refuse was ebbing away. Knowing Terry knew this.
"Darling, you'll love them, wait and see." Terry was pulling the sweater over her head, slipping out of the slacks.
"It's absurd, really." It was though she weren't here, Elaine thought with panic, as Terry gently tugged at the white sweater, then reached for the zipper of the slacks.
Then Stephie was back, setting up his equipment, his face glowing with zeal. Stephie got a peculiar kind of thrill out of taking these pictures, Elaine thought subconsciously while she allowed Terry to pose her against the sofa. Then Terry's own nudeness stretched beside hers, and the only sound in the room was the popping in the fireplace and the sound of the camera clicking.
It was insane, it was stupid, but she had no will to resist. As though from a distance, Elaine was aware of what was going on. The provocative positions Stephie was demanding, the catapulting desire that was taking possession of her as Terry and she posed for these shots of love.
"They're going to be perfect," Stephie was panting with satisfaction. "Wait till you see them!"
"Are you finished?" Terry asked, st
retching on the rug before the fire with the sinuous grace of a panther.
"All wrapped up," Stephie announced.
"Then beat it," Terry ordered frankly. "Right now you're one too many."
"I can take a hint.* Stephie loaded up his equipment, gathered everything together, and sauntered off singing. "I have a passionate date with a wood-chuck down the drive. Come and get me when you're in the mood."
"Wouldn't it be wonderful if we had a place like this of our own?" Terry lay back against the rug, arms high above her head, thoroughly conscious of the provocative picture she made.
"I could hardly afford anything like this," Elaine reminded her frankly.
"It wouldn't have to be this big," Terry whispered, her eyes fastened on Elaine. "Just a little hideaway for the two of us that nobody else in the world knew about."
"Perhaps we could rent a little house somewhere, for weekends." Elaine was starkly conscious of everything Terry's eyes were saying to her now. All the tumultuous exciting promises. Actually, she conceded mentally, she could afford to find something like that. She'd even toyed with the idea of a place for herself last year, when she'd been so desperately on edge. A place to paint—the truant thought dashed in her mind, then was resolutely chased out. What was the matter with her, dreaming like a wide-eyed adolescent again I
"Darling, what are you thinking about?" Terry held up her arms invitingly, and Elaine moved urgently onto the rug beside her.
"About us," she said, because that's what Terry wanted to hear. Because sometimes the mind and the body operate on such widely divergent levels.
"What were you thinking about us?" Terry pursued, her breath in labored gasps now. "Tell me! No," she corrected herself, entwining her arms about Elaine, "Show me!"
"I was thinking about all the crazy things you make me do." Her hands captured Terry's small face and brought it close to hers. "I forget when I'm with you.
"Love me, Elaine," Terry implored with sudden urgency, pressing her nakedness into Elaine's, her hands tugging violently at the other girl's dark cap of hair above her. "Love me!" Then she was pinching, biting, demanding, half out of her mind with a devouring passion.
