Chapter 9

Mrs. Jessica Wright dumped her tired body into the decorator-designed barrel-based leather chair at the closest corner of the plush loft-type apartment, kicked her shoes off onto the Persian carpet that stretched across the huge room and panted to regain her breath. It was nearly ten o'clock, and she had been on her feet, mostly in front of banks of bright lights and flashing strobes since nine this morning. But she wasn't really tired; physically a little worn out, but that would pass. What counted was inside and there she felt nothing but contentment and happiness at her new life. Across the room, a half dozen of her more recent magazine covers, blown up into enormous proportions by some of the guys down at Dodge Company, dominated the room. The stereo system was blaring at peak capacity, and she knew what that meant... her husband Phillip, was working. He was the only commercial artist she knew who insisted on ear-splitting decibels before he could settle down to work.

She tried to recall what it was he'd said this morning he was working on now. The Ford campaign? No, it seems it was food of some sort... maybe I should go ask him, just to let him know I'm home.

But there was no need, for Phillip had spotted her from his crow's nest work area, perched on the top half of the two-story main room in a sort of shelf-like corner, accessible by a pull-down set of ordinary attic stairs. "Hi, honey... how was the shooting?"

She turned quickly, startled at hearing another voice. "Oh, you're not working!" she shouted over the din. "I was just thinking of coming up to say hello, but l didn't want to bother you!"

"Sorry, I can't hear you!"

"Turn down the stereo then, silly!" She waited for Phillip to disappear through the doorway into his private little world, then descend the stairs to the main room below. His shirt was streaked with acrylics and tempura from the day's work, though sometimes she wondered if he just doused himself with colors to look busy. Not likely, though, not for the man who'd just won the Art Director's Soho showing.

"Hi, that's better," he said softly right in her ear this time.

"Mmmmmm... much better," she purred as his hands coursed over her knotted shoulders. "You can do that all you like."

Phillip's fingers sneaked playfully down the ridge of her spine, rubbing the tiny bony protuberances as he crept toward the soft cleft of her buttocks.

"Not there, baby... the knots are in my shoulders," she said with mock seriousness.

"Just wanted to get you in the mood, that's all."

Her ears perked up like a dog's on the trail of game. "Mood? Mood for what... Did Valerie call?"

Phillip just went on rubbing her back and shoulders, a sheepish grin on his face.

"Well, did she? Tell me, c'mon, tell me!" she shrieked excitedly.

"Yes, she called... and there's a party at the Leonard Melcher's tomorrow night. We're to be there at eight."

Jessica fell back into the depths of the thickly padded chair, her eyes clenched shut and a big smile on her lips. "Wow, I can hardly wait! Is Luke going to be there?" She fondly remembered her few minutes of conversation with the Dodge Company's newest producer, a tall, dark-haired man with a build on him like Tarzan.

"Yeah, and his wife, too... you remember, the talk-show commentator, Nancy Dramar?"

She did remember... and for a fleeting second, felt a twinge of jealousy as she thought of the voluptuous child-star turned television hostess with that luxurian redhair of hers... and that body! Jesus, what an enormous pair of breasts that woman had!

Phillip's hands were around her waist now, then smoothly along the sides of her trim thighs and back up under the bottom of her minidress. She purred like a kitten being stroked as his fingers kneaded the tender soft flesh of her inner thighs, then snaked under the elastic of her panties, tenderly caressing the warm moist folds of her pussy.

"Mmmmmm... I guess I can work you in for one little quickie," she teased. "But darling... don't wear me out. I want to be in fine shape for tomorrow. Luke has a new series coming up for the fall... and who knows, maybe he might just be interested in little old me for a part in it!"