Chapter 2

As Mavis preceded Dell Emerson through the vined arbor to the back door, she was conscious of his eyes on her rump that was snugly molded by tennis shorts. She knew men and she knew that the young law student's eyes were exploring her body as he carried the large box of groceries.

She juggled the two bottles of gin and mix to her left arm as she unlocked the door. She liked to look sexy, knowing she had a figure men liked looking at. And Phil Moran, her husband, liked for her to dress enticingly. He was almost embarrassingly proud of her sensuous appearance.

And Mavis liked men's eyes on her. She held the door open, glad to be out of the glaring sun, and let Dell into the large kitchen. She paused, perfectly still, listening to Dell put the box on the breakfast nook table. She frowned. There was that one brief chapter in her life she wished she could erase. There was that tormented interlude after college when she couldn't find a job. A lot of men's eyes had seen her body--not just in tennis shorts and skinny bra! They had let their lust-filled eyes rove over her absolute nudity! And, oh, the things she had let them do to her body! Some had been really, keenly good! Others had just used her for their animal pleasure. She wasn't resolutely ashamed that she had been a prostitute for four months. It hadn't been so bad. And the money was good! But, she would never, never, ever tell Phil! That would just kill him and her marriage, probably!

She sensed that Dell's eyes were on her hips and thighs and slender back again. She lingered with her reverie for a minute longer. But a girl had to make ends meet--she had had that urgent student loan to pay off before they would let her have her diploma in economics.

It hadn't been too bad. In the four months, she had only taken on enough "clients" to meet her financial obligations. Hell! she pouted, turning and smiling at Dell, a lot of girls gave it away free to thirty men and boys--and she had earned almost twenty-five hundred dollars. And some of the older guys--the tender repeaters--had been real fun; they had taught her that sex-play was greater sport than the Super Bowl--and no broken bones. She almost giggled. She had crushed a few sex bones. Except, the memory sometimes almost broke her heart. Well, she had her hero. Phil! And she would never sell her body again!

"A drink, Dell? That's right, you have to go back to the store. How about a lemonade? It's all ready, in the frig."

"Okay," the tall stock clerk said, slipping into the nook.

Mavis inhaled deeply, lifting her full breasts for his admiration, as she handed him the frosty glass. His eyes never missed a ripple of supple muscles in her midriff and the haughty lift of her breasts. "I'm going to have a martini," she murmured, turning away from his eyes that had riveted on her crotch where the tight shorts outlined the full labia--the smile and crease. As she stirred, she sighed silently. She could have him. And, with Phil gone so much, an eager tail wagging around inside her would be scrumptious! But, she loved Phil too much to cheat, she told herself. Or did she? A healthy girl needs sexing ever so often.

No matter how much she needed a piece of male twang and a spot of nookey, it would take a helluva lot to get her on her back with legs kicked high for some other man's pleasure-stick! She sensed he was hot--aroused--she could almost smell his musky male aroma! She could have him--if she wanted! But, wasn't he going with Becky Samon? The young woman who worked as a typist at the Salt Lake City law office where Dell helped work up briefs, did research and got some practical legal training? She wondered, even though they were engaged, whether Dell was faithful and loyal to her.

She would bet that he was! Right now, he was extremely hard- up! She could smell the warm, sweet aroma of his genitals--and her excitement was increasing. But, she was resolute! She wouldn't let him seduce her and she wouldn't seduce him and cheat on Phil!

The fleshy curtains that protected her womanhood felt glued together and she didn't want to risk getting up, lest Dell see the telltale traces of honey seeping from her love cove! "Hadn't you better get back to the store?"

"Probably," Dell smiled, finishing his lemonade and sliding out of the booth.

After he had gone, she pouted over the possibility he had smelled her, too! She didn't want him to think of her as a cowardly female in heat! Afraid to skin out of her clothes and have a lusty sex romp while her husband was away. Mavis almost cried. She did need her cove explored. She shivered with sexual misery. If Dell had just made the gesture, she just knew she couldn't have resisted; she would have flopped over, flung her feet into the air and spread her milky thighs wide. She wouldn't have resisted one iota as he presented his manhood to her. She would have let him take her--and she would have taken him! She fluttered and burned and itched all through her loins. She needed it! She needed a man!

"Phil!" she cried. She had heard many men say it, now she yelled it herself... "I need fuckin'!"

She finished the pitcher of martinis and glanced fuzzily around the elaborate kitchen. The gin had hit her very hard, after a couple of hours of tennis with Connie Quentin and being out in the hot sun. And the alcohol did nothing to cool the sensual urge that was coursing through her veins.

Mavis almost wished Willie Quentin, Connie's husband, would call her in to clerk that evening at the local supermarket where she sometimes substituted for regular help. The prospect of spending another evening of solitude without Phil was depressing. Would he be home tonight? He had said he was going to Cheyenne, Wyoming, on some kind of big burglary. That was three days ago and he hadn't even called!

She let her fingers graze the hard tips of her breasts. He hadn't even given her a little the night before he left. After three years of marriage, was his love and passion for her ebbing? The thought frightened her. She knew she was just as desirable as when he had married her. And her passion hadn't cooled, in fact, it seemed even snore volatile and explosive. As a matter of fact, her preoccupation with sex lately worried her. Was she--could she--turn into a nymph? She had read case histories about women who couldn't get enough intercourse. She often thought some of the symptoms paralleled her own feelings of lust.

Hadn't she seriously considered--if only briefly--an affair with Dell Emerson? Oh, she had found it not too difficult to resist making the initial overture toward the bedroom. But the cozy prospects of being fondled and laid had their stimulating allure. She had the physical evidence it was so... Her crotch was sticky--hot with passion and her vulva and vagina seemed on fire!

Clumsily, Mavis eased out of the breakfast nook. Her tapering thighs were like jelly and she was surprised her long legs supported her. With both hands on the tabletop, she steadied herself. Each movement seemed to agitate the sensuous torment in her loins. She shook her head and smiled faintly. It was a good thing Dell had gone before she finished the martinis! She needed it so bad right then she would have flopped for the Quentins' gardener--black as he was!

Suddenly, a vivid picture of one of her "clients" flashed through her mind. He always liked her down on all-fours, dog- fashion. The memory was so sharp and keen she could almost feel his penis gliding in and out of her vagina, his fingers gripping her flanks at the hip bones and hauling her body back, smooth cheeks of her ass pounding against his hairy belly as he speared his long, thick penis deep into her passion-juiced uterus.

She closed her eyes and shuddered. Was she sex crazy? Unsteadily, Mavis wandered into the huge living room and pulled the drapes. With her mind and body in turmoil, she flopped on the divan, breathing heavily. Phil wouldn't call; she just knew he wouldn't. And she would be alone another night. Sure, she knew several people, but they were Phil's friends. They had been his friends long before they were married.

Unhappily, she thought about them--positive they weren't interested in inviting her over alone without Phil. Connie and Willie Quentin knew she was by herself. So did Miriam and Henry Carr. But it might be more difficult for the Carrs to entertain her. He was a police lieutenant and his hours were as irregular as Phil's. And she hardly knew Terry and Mickey Lewis. They were fairly new to the neighborhood. Mickey had just taken the position as basketball coach at the local high school. So, who else was there? You could bet that Dell and Becky wouldn't want to sit with a married woman they knew only slightly--not when they could be at a drive-in movie necking and petting. She had the intuitive feeling they weren't making out, that Becky was saving her cherry for her husband on their wedding night.