Chapter 1

Laura Wilson sat low in the steaming tub, letting the hot water whirlpool in the hidden crevices of her voluptuous young body. She blew playfully at the mounds of bubbles and scooped them up in her cupped hands, building small twin peaks on the dark brown areolas of her breasts, and then blowing them into hundreds of small translucent balls that crackled and popped furiously around her.

Stretching her smooth arms up above her head and stiffening her long, well-formed legs against the front of the tub, she raised her slim body halfway out of the water, and allowed it to run in small rivers down along the enticing lines of her soft young body. Her skin stretched tautly against her rib cage, further accentuating the curves that ran from her proud shoulders down to the slight jut of her pelvis that pointed out softly near the crest of her slender hips.

At twenty seven, Laura had lost none of the youthful and desirable form she had acquired as a teenager. Her body had kept its shape with exercise on the tennis courts or in swimming pools, and her face was still brightened by the same innocent excitement and exuberance that provided the cornerstone to her beauty. She had much to be proud of, and she was aware of that fact with an unpretentious satisfaction that showed in the way she moved and carried herself.

Leaning forward, Laura pulled the plug from the tub and allowed half the water to run out. Then she turned on the hot water tap to refill the tub, and poured two more capfuls of bubble bath into the water. It was only four-thirty in the afternoon, and she planned to soak for at least fifteen more minutes. This was going to be a special treat tonight, she thought to herself, as she leaned back again against the back of the tub. She and her husband Bill had been invited out that night by their next-door neighbors, George and Abby Farrington, and Laura was looking forward to it with unbounded excitement. It had been so long since she and Bill had been out. Of course, she knew her husband was very busy with his work; but still, Laura was the kind of person who needed excitement, who thrived on it, and the last few months had been almost torturous for her. Bill had been working twelve to eighteen hours a day, and when he came home he was usually so exhausted that he could only eat dinner and fall into bed. Laura had tried her best to reconcile herself to this state of affairs, but that was becoming increasingly difficult as time went on. She found herself yearning for the exciting days when they'd first been married, when everything was new and wonderful. She yearned for those days which, she was beginning to fear, were gone forever.

But no matter, the young blonde thought to herself as she eased back down into the scalding water. Tonight, at least, will be different. Perhaps her husband would see that he couldn't go on working himself to death as he was doing, that there was more to life than simply preparing for the future. There was the present, that had to be enjoyed and lived fully in order to stay healthy and sane.

Laura was curious, and also a little apprehensive, about the activities that had been planned for that evening. Abby Farrington had been over that morning for coffee, and said that they'd decided to go out to a topless nightclub about thirty minutes from their home in the suburb of Oak Park.

Born and raised with all the modesty the Midwest had to offer, Laura wasn't sure how she would react to the naked breasts of other women as they bobbed and swayed to psychedelic music in front of a large crowd of people. She felt she would be too embarrassed to stay through an entire show, but with all her courage she had tried to seem pleased when Abby had told her where they were going. George Farrington had already reserved a table, and since he was footing the bill, Laura didn't feel she could object.

Her thoughts were broken by the loud ringing of the telephone in the bedroom. She turned her head toward the open door, knowing for some unexplainable reason that it was her husband Bill calling. She lifted herself quickly from the tub, threw her robe around her shoulders and hurried to the bedside phone.

"Hello, darling," she said, cradling the receiver between her chin and shoulder.

"How did you know it was me?" Bill asked.

"Oh, I'm just telepathic," she giggled.

"Well, tell me if you were telepathic about this," he said. "You have to pack a bag for me. I've been called to Dallas."

"Oh, no, Bill! Not tonight!"

"I'm afraid so, honey. The call came just ten minutes ago. There's an important meeting of branch managers from the larger cities. For some reason, the boss wants me to go along with him, and I can't think up a reason not to go." Bill's voice sounded slightly worried.

"Oh, darling, that means we can't go out with the Farringtons tonight."

"I know, honey, and I'm sorry about it - but there isn't anything I can do. I've got to go."

"Darling, is everything all right?" Laura asked with concern. "You sound worried."

"Damn right I'm worried. Don't you see what this trip means? All the branch managers from around the country are going to be there, and that means they'll be there from San Francisco, too!"

"Oh, darling... you mean, there might be somebody there that knows about you?" Laura's voice now shared the worry that edged Bill's voice.

"I don't see how there couldn't be," Bill stated flatly, and then he paused to think. "Laura, I'll just have to chance it. There's no other way."

"Couldn't you call in sick or something?" Laura suggested. "There's got to be some way to keep from going."

"No, I can't call in sick because we leave in just about two hours. No, I'm afraid there's no way out of it. We'll just have to risk it, I guess. I called just to let you know, and to get you to pack a bag for me."

"Oh, darling..."

"Now don't worry, Laura. There's no use worrying about it. Either my boss finds out or he doesn't. There's nothing we can do about it except pray. And believe me, I'm doing a lot of praying right now."

"Just when everything seemed to be going so well..." The tears were beginning to well up in Laura's blue eyes.

"Now stop that, honey. There's no use crying about it. Can you get that bag packed?"

"Of course, dear."

"O.K. I'll be home in, I guess, about 30 minutes."

"O.K."

"Come on, chin up, sweetheart. See you in awhile." Laura didn't answer, but only listened to the click on the other end of the line. Oh, why? she thought. Nothing ever seems to turn out right. Day and night Bill was away from her, working, and slaving, sacrificing even their lives together in order to give them some security, and then something like this had to happen. Halfheartedly, she walked to the closet and began selecting clothes for him. Her mind drifted back to those terrible days in San Francisco, over a year ago now.

Laura and Bill had only been married a couple of years, and Bill had been working at a fairly large finance company, and doing very well. He had already received one promotion in record time, and was well on his way to another. Both he and Laura had been excited about his success, and their eagerness and ambition knew no bounds. Perhaps it was this ambition that had led Bill to the greatest mistake of his life.

At first, it had all seemed innocent enough: Bill's former boss, a Mr. Ferguson, had simply seemed to be reorganizing the company's books, taking money from one department and giving it to another, paying bills out of one account and transferring funds to another. It wasn't until Bill began to really look at what was going on that he realized his boss was lining his own pockets with a small but steady income from the company treasury. Bill had known he should go to the police, and report everything, but he hadn't. He had pretended to know nothing about the imbalance in his books.

After awhile, Ferguson had somehow found out that Bill knew about his illegal activities; but strangely enough, even though Ferguson knew, and Bill knew he knew, there was never a word said on the subject. Bill found himself quickly elevated in position not once, but three times, with increasing salaries and benefits, though he never took part in any actual embezzlement himself. Still, he kept most of the books, and was therefore an accomplice to everything his boss did.

In due time, of course, everything was discovered. The boss had begun to take greater and greater amounts, the books were showing more and more obvious discrepancies, and finally Bill's boss had skipped town. The company went bankrupt, Ferguson was caught, and they were both indicated for embezzlement. Those few days had been the worst in Bill's life, and in Laura's as well. It was as though the world had come to an abrupt halt, and there was nothing, no reality to their lives at all, except the specter of the prison sentence awaiting Bill.

Finally, the District Attorney had come to Bill with a deal. He had proposed that Bill turn state's evidence, and testify as to the extent of his boss' illegal activities. Bill had hesitated at first, feeling that to comply would be some kind of betrayal of the trust Ferguson had placed in him. But gradually he had come to realize that far from trust, his boss had used him as much as he had used the company's finances, for his own ends. And Bill agreed to the District Attorney's deal.

Laura took a suitcase from the back of the closet, and opened it up on the bed. She began placing her husband's clothes into it carefully, selecting the things she knew he liked and which would be appropriate for the kind of meeting he was going to attend. Wearily, she passed a hand across her face, and sank down on the bed. Would it really happen? Could it really be true that their torture and torment was to begin all over again?

She remembered back to the days and weeks and months that followed the trial in San Francisco. At first, she and her husband had been naive enough to think that, with the end of the trial and the conviction of Bill's boss, their troubles would be over. In truth, though, they had just begun. It had been months before Bill had been able to find an employer willing to hire him, and then only because that employer was not familiar with Bill's past. That first job had only lasted a short two weeks before Bill's part in the embezzlement scheme had come to light, and he had been fired. In the months that followed, the story was the same, over and over again. Bill would find a job after much searching, only to see it taken away from him when his new employer found out about the embezzlement and the trial, and then he would be on the streets again, facing the inevitable job interview, and the equally inevitable: "You wouldn't happen to be the Bill Wilson who used to work for Coast Financing, would you?"

After a year of this kind of torment, Bill and Laura had discovered that the strain was beginning to have an effect on their marriage: arguments were more frequent and intense, they could never seem to escape the shadow left by Bill's momentous indiscretion. And finally they had decided to leave San Francisco and try to start again in some other city. Bill had found his present job, and they'd moved to Oak Park - and at last it seemed as though they were free, out from under the incredible burden of their past mistakes. They had lived in Oak Park almost a year, and had almost forgotten what it was like to be hounded and trapped and desperate.

And now it could start all over again, all the frail and fragile supports they had built their new life on now threatened once again to be torn out from under them, with all the trauma that would ensue. Oh, it was hopeless! Laura thought to herself as she began packing Bill's suitcase once more. They would never escape... never again be able to lead a free and unworried life.

Laura stood before the full-length mirror in their large closet, and let her robe fall carelessly from her ivory shoulders. Her hands reached up to cup her youthfully erect breasts, and she examined herself in the mirror. Though she was only three years away from thirty, her exquisite body showed no signs of age, but was as vital and firm as it had ever been. She studied herself carefully, and then turned from the mirror, picking her robe up from the floor as she did so.

Both she and Bill had sacrificed something this past year. Bill had seemed to be working himself to death, almost to make up for the mistakes he'd made in San Francisco. And Laura had reconciled herself to the inevitable neglect in the bedroom that her husband's heavy work schedule caused. She didn't like to be petty, especially when Bill was working so hard to make their lives better - but all the same, he was exhausting himself, and that exhaustion was leaving him unable to satisfy Laura's desires at night. Laura felt very guilty the few times she had tried to suggest that he didn't need to work so hard, that their sexual lives together were just as important a part of their lives as the money Bill brought home at the end of the month. But he hadn't seemed to understand, and Laura had given up trying to make him see; she had instead decided that she could sacrifice something as well, and that would be her sexual desires.

It had been over a month since her husband had made love to her, though, and this new danger to their lives threatened a disruption that would be far more injurious than Bill's exhaustion ever could be. As she finished packing her husband's suitcase, and set it by the bedroom door for him to pick up, Laura wondered whether she would be able to survive this new wrinkle in the already disturbed pattern of her life.

At five o'clock, the door opened, and Laura heard Bill's voice as he entered the front door.

"Honey, are you dressed? George is with me."

Damn, she thought, when she heard him. She had hoped for at least a few minutes alone with him before he had to leave. Quickly, she threw on a simple housedress, and went out into the living room.

George Farrington turned to her, and greeted her with a large grin, as he always did. She smiled back at the steel grey eyes that always seemed to penetrate her when they looked in her direction. She always felt curiously exposed when he looked at her that way.

"Hi, Laura. How are you," George said warmly. "I gave Bill a lift home. Hope you don't mind."

"Of course not, why should I?" she smiled. Laura thought how little George Farrington looked like his forty years. His face and body showed no excess flesh, but was solid and handsome. Except for the slight greying of his hair, she would have guessed his age at about thirty-two or three.

"Hello, honey. Get that bag packed?" Bill moved across the room from the bar where he'd been fixing drinks, and handed her one, neglecting to kiss her on the cheek as he'd always done their first year of marriage. For some reason he didn't have the inclination to give her that little bit of reassurance that she needed so badly, especially now.

"Yes, it's in the bedroom," Laura answered him.

"Good. Well, here's to Dallas, and a safe trip," Bill toasted.

"And a quiet trip," Laura added, catching her husband's eye. She noticed the worry was still there, and that Bill's attempted joviality was merely a cover.

Bill finished his drink quickly, and moved into the bedroom. Laura excused herself from George, and followed him. Coming into the bedroom, she shut the door behind her, and threw herself into her husband's arms.

"Oh, Bill... tell me it isn't going to happen all over again!"

"Hey, hey now."

"Come on, honey," he answered, trying to disentangle himself from his wife's caresses. "Don't get so excited. Nothing's going to happen, believe me."

"You say that, but you don't mean it, darling. I know you're worried... just as worried as I am."

"No, I'm not, really..." Bill's assurance was unconvincing. He talked like a man who didn't want to be reminded of his danger. "And you getting hysterical is not going to help matters."

Laura took her arms from around his neck, and moved across to sit on the bed. She was hurt by his unwillingness to share his trouble with her, and she was hurt by the distance he seemed to be putting between them.

"I... I didn't mean to get hysterical, darling. I'm sorry."

Bill turned to his wife, and then moved to her side, laying an impersonal hand on her head as though it might comfort her.

"I know, honey. I'm just a little upset, you know. But don't forget, nothing may happen in Dallas at all. There's just a chance that it will - but that's the chance we've been living with for the past year, isn't it?"

Laura looked up, and nodded mutely.

"O.K., so let's not worry until there's something to worry about. Life is too short. Now come on, we've left George in the front room."

Laura rose, and followed her husband into the living room. George Farrington got up when they came in, and she moved across the room to him.

"I'm sorry, George, but I guess we'll have to take a rain check on our night out tonight. Maybe when Bill gets back from Dallas."

"Not at all," George replied, and turned to Bill with a twinkle in his eye. "Shall I tell her?"

Bill nodded slightly as he finished his drink.

"Your traveling husband and I talked it over in the car and decided that you shouldn't miss a party just because your old man is out of town." George's smile never faded as he talked. "Abby and I will take you to the club without him. The table has already been reserved and everything has been especially ordered. Besides, I'm still not too old to squire two women at once, if it's only for one night."

"Oh, George, I don't know," Laura started, but he interrupted.

"Don't be ridiculous. I've already talked to Abby. She's been spending the last three hours getting ready for this. She doesn't mind sharing me for part of one evening. So you can't say no," he said, taking her hand warmly.

"In that case, Mr. Farrington, I simply cannot refuse," Laura said dramatically. "What time will you call, sir?"

"At eight sharp. Can you be ready, Madam?"

"Of course," she answered.

"Enough is enough for both of you lovers," Bill broke in, "I've got a jet to catch. Come on, George, let's get a move on. George is taking me to the plane, honey."

Laura walked her husband to the door and kissed him goodbye, feeling his impatience to leave as he drew away from her. She watched him walk to George's car and stood in the doorway, her arms hanging limply at her side.

"See you at eight," George shouted.

She nodded and smiled, watching the white convertible back from the driveway onto the street and roar off toward the corner and the airport. Goodnight, Bill, she thought and turned back into the house closing the door behind her, conscious of a single tear that had dropped to her cheek. A deep sense of loneliness rippled through her, a loneliness she had been carrying with her since their move to Oak Park, a loneliness that her husband had been too busy to recognize, and too preoccupied to relieve her of.

Two hours later, George and Abby Farrington shared a small pitcher of Martinis in their bedroom as George dressed. Abby sat on the bed, propped up against the headboard with a large pillow behind her. At thirty six, she looked every bit as good as the younger Laura, but her own self criticism and fear of growing older sometimes blinded her to that fact. Her black hair was cut in the latest style and she wore a miniskirt that revealed a year- round tan on her full and sensual thighs. Nearly every man she came into contact with looked at her with more than just idle curiosity.

"It's working out better than we thought," the exotic woman said. "Do you think she's ready?"

"Ripe for plucking," George said, smiling at his pun.

"You are too, too funny," Abby said. "I hope you're right, though."

"Have I ever been wrong about a woman before?" he said, not waiting for an answer. "You should have seen the look on her face when we drove away. Laura is the loving wife all right, but she's been so neglected by Bill that there won't be any trouble at all. And even if there is, I can change her mind. With what I know about Bill, I could convince her of anything. No, sweetheart, getting her hot little body between the sheets will be no trouble at all."