Chapter 5

Judy dropped her keys wearily on the counter, and turned the burner on under the stale, left-over coffee. While she waited for the coffee to get hot, she stared blindly out the window. The sound of the coffee boiling roused her from her stupor. She poured a cup of the steaming, dark liquid, then lowered herself wearily onto a kitchen chair. Bracing her arms on the table, she sipped the hot coffee, then frowned, and put the cup down. After spooning in sugar and creamer, she tasted it again, and decided it was drinkable.

She didn't need a mirror to know her eyes were bloodshot. She could practically feel the bags and dark circles. She felt pure bone weary. Last night had been one of the worst ever for Mark. Overdue for a treatment, he had writhed, tossed, turned and sweated all night. Although they hadn't touched or even talked, neither of them had slept, and they both knew it. Judy had finally buried her face in her pillow, and smothered her misery in the bitter foam rubber smell.

Mark was at the hospital right now. Judy had driven him there - he had been sweating and shivering the whole way as cold chills wracked his tortured body.

Now, alone in the silent house, Judy sipped the bitter coffee and tried to get her mind working. She couldn't think of anything she had to do, but had the nagging feeling there was something she should be worrying about. Slowly she goaded her exhausted mind into action, and forced it to review the situation.

Which brought her straight to what she had done in the past few days. A sour knot of misery formed in her throat, making it hard to swallow. Taking a grip on herself, she thrust that memory down. Her mind then went perversely to the parting exchange she had had at the office the day before. Her muscles slowly knotted with horror as she reviewed the conversation.

How had the rumor gotten started that Steven Shein was selling? She had called on him routinely, the same way she did all people in her territory who had lived in the same house for over a year and a half. The mobility in the area was high, surveys showing that few people lived in the same house for more than two years, especially in high income neighborhoods. There was a ceaseless shifting from house to house as the young, driving executives moved up the ladder of the growing businesses in the area, or were transferred away.

Judy had been sure no one else knew Steven Shein was considering selling. His wealth was inherited, not dependent on the ups and downs of large corporations the same way executives' fates were.

Shein had told her, though, that he was in need of cash. Maybe some of his investments had gone sour or something? If that was the case, others might know of his need for money. Adding that to the incredible increase in the value of his house gave one obvious conclusion.

Judy sighed. Her mind was beginning to work smoothly as the caffeine and sugar entered her bloodstream. How the rumor had gotten out was unimportant. It was out. Judy had done her best to squelch it in her own agency, and had probably succeeded. She knew they trusted her. But the rumor was undoubtedly making the rounds of the other agencies.

Her agreement with Shein was an exclusive one, but it was far from iron-clad. He might try to break it if he thought he could get a better deal from someone else.

The trouble with using sex in business, Judy reflected, was that there was nothing at all binding about it.

But that wasn't what was nagging at Judy. There was something else, something different, trivial now, but potentially disastrous.

Andrew McCarter and his mortgage? No, definitely not that.

What was it she had forgotten? She couldn't think if it was something she had to do something about or not. She knew it was trivial and stupid, which made her aggravation at forgetting it even greater. It wasn't something about Mark, it had to do with Steven Shein and his house, and it also had something to do with Andrew McCarter.

Judy wracked her brain desperately and came up with a complete blank.

When the telephone rang, it jarred her so she slopped coffee onto the table. When Mark was at the hospital, Judy fretted. She dashed for the phone, terrified that something had gone wrong during his treatment.

"Hello?" Judy answered fearfully.

"Is this Mrs. Judy Penncroft?" The voice was feminine, soft, rather deep, and cultured.

"Speaking." It didn't sound like a nurse at the hospital.

"This is Paula Shein, Mrs. Steven Shein."

Judy gulped, surprised. This was one call she hadn't anticipated at all. "Yes, Mrs. Shein, what can I do for you?" Judy tried to sound genuinely happy to be hearing from the woman.

"I understand from my husband that you are trying to sell our house."

"Yes, I am," Judy acknowledged. God, what if Mrs. Shein didn't want to sell?

"I'd like to discuss the matter with you, if you don't mind."

Judy settled herself in a chair, bracing herself for the worst. "Certainly, Mrs. Shein. What would you like to know?"

"I'd rather not discuss it over the telephone," Mrs. Shein said calmly. "Would you be able to meet with me sometime today?"

Judy thought for a second, then nodded, "Yes, I believe so. I have to pick up my husband at the hospital late this afternoon, but I have nothing else scheduled."

"Fine. Why don't you come here to the house about noon? We can have some lunch and discuss things."

"All right, fine," Judy agreed. "I'll be there about noon."

"Thank you, Mrs. Penncroft."

"Thank you, Mrs. Shein," Judy replied politely, then hung up.

Throughout the entire conversation, Paula Shein had given no hint of what she wanted to talk about. Mentally, Judy replayed the brief conversation, trying to get some clue as to whether this was a real problem or not.

Finally, having come up with nothing, Judy glanced at the clock. She was relieved to find she still had plent of time. Somehow she had to get rid of the evidence of the sleepless, exhausting night. Mrs. Steven Shein sounded like class and polish, and Judy wanted to make the best impression possible.

Judy stripped off her clothes while the water was warming up. Then she stepped into the cloud of steam and under the pounding spray. The exhausted aching in her shoulders and neck faded quickly under the hot blast. Turning, she let the jets of water hit her face and felt them sluice the sleep out of her eyes. When she backed up the streams moved down and tingled over her chest. When the jets hit her nipples the little buds burned and tingled and stiffened.

Finally Judy picked up the soap and worked lather into the short, black hair of her head. After rinsing it away, she did her face with a washrag. Then, her hands still soapy, she lathered her torso and arms. Her flesh felt warm and resilient to the touch. As always, there was a warming pleasure from the way her breasts felt in her hands, firm and feminine, her nipples rubbery and alert. And there was pleasure, too, in the way her hands felt to her breasts, making blood surge to those graceful pink-capped hills.

Fighting the urge to linger, Judy slid her soapy hands down over her stomach, arching her back to thrust her belly forward. She looked down over the lathery plain of sleek shining skin and could see soggy twists of pubic hair just peeping out under her belly.

When she worked a thick gob of lather into her pubic area, a softening wave of heat swept through her body. Carefully, Judy worked the soap deep into her dark bush, soaped far downward, pressing and squeezing the yielding labia, spreading them to wash between them into the pink folds of her pussy. A soapy finger brushed her clitoris and it seemed to jerk in surprise, then stiffen and beg for more attention. Instead, Judy spread her legs and reached far back to wash the crack of her ass thoroughly. The pressure of her fingers around her anus triggered another wave of pleasure and a strange memory...

As she had crouched atop Andrew McCarter, his big cock sunk in her pussy, he had touched her back there. His strong hands had clutched at her buttocks, drawing them apart. There had been such unexpected pleasure in his touch.

Judy stopped playing with her ass and her pussy, and pulled her hands away with a grimace of disgust. What kind of person was she becoming? She had nothing against masturbating, she had done it ever since she had discovered the pleasure to be gotten from it - in fact, until she had married Mark. And even then she had fondled herself to an orgasm from time to time. But here and now wasn't the place nor the time. And after what she had done with Shein and McCarter it even seemed insane.

Why did everything seem to remind her of her infidelities? Maybe, when this was all over, she would be able to put her hideous whoring out of her mind forever.

After rinsing thoroughly, Judy shut off the shower and grabbed a towel. She rubbed her skin until it glowed pink, then went into the bedroom to pick out something to wear.

And she caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror, as always. She froze at the sight of her body. She was invariably pleased with her youthful trimness. It had been longer than she cared to think since she had engaged in any really energetic gymnastics, but the trimness and firmness and healthy muscles still existed.

Finally, she forced her eyes away from her reflection and got out a pair of clean panties to wear. She reflected as she put on a blouse and skirt that it was fortunate she didn't need to wear a bra. They couldn't have afforded to buy her one anyway.

Going out into the bright sunlight, Judy slipped her dark glasses on. The soiled, dirty feeling of exhaustion had been washed away by her shower. Now she just felt languidly tired, reluctant to move, unable to hurry. She made it to the car and got in. The engine turned over with its usual sick grinding sound, then sputtered to life. Before pulling away from the curb, Judy tapped the gas gauge. She was relieved to see the needle wiggle in response. That meant there was at last a quarter of a tank left.

By the time she reached the Shein house, Judy's stomach was growling from hunger in spite of her nagging worries. She was halfway to the front door when it opened. Paula Shein stood there waiting for her.

"You're very prompt," Mrs. Shein commented as she shook Judy's hand.

Judy noted that the woman's grip was strong and firm - and that the handshake lasted a little too long.

"Mark, my husband, drummed that into me before we were married," Judy replied. She studied Mrs. Shein carefully.

Judy decided that if you put the Sheins back to back, their heights would differ by less than half an inch. In her bare feet, the woman would be about five six. And she was built - like a brick outhouse was the way Mark would have put it. She was wearing an expensive black velvet halter that covered, but didn't really support her full breasts, and a floor-length skirt that hung low on her hips. An incredible expanse of extraordinarily trim and well-tanned midriff was exposed. The woman's full hips swayed sensuously and very gracefully as she led the way into the living room.

"Would you care for a drink, Mrs. Penncroft?"

Judy met the woman's cool gray eyes, and wondered how much it cost to get the kind of streaking that highlighted Mrs. Shein's sleek blonde hair. "I don't believe so, thank you. I've gotten out of the habit, since Mark isn't permitted to."

"Ah yes, his illness," Mrs. Shein said coolly. "So tragic a thing to happen to a young man. I was shocked when Steven told me of it."

"We - keep our hopes up," Judy replied.

"Perhaps some wine with lunch," Mrs. Shein suggested, shifting the subject gracefully.

"That would be very nice," Judy agreed.

"Come on, I'm ravenous. I only have coffee for breakfast, and by noon I'm always ferociously hungry." She led the way out to the pool deck where a table was set in the shade.

"Your husband isn't here?" Judy commented. "I thought he was getting back this morning?"

"Oh, he was in and out very early. He is a very busy man. Sometimes we hardly get to see each other."

"Mark and I wouldn't like that at all," Judy commented. The tall elegant woman made her feel clumsy, graceless, and totally unsophisticated. Judy sought refuge in the glass of crisp, chill white wine.

"What was it you wanted to talk about?" Judy ventured as she began eating.

"That can wait until after lunch," Mrs. Shein replied smoothly. "Tell me, how did you come to go into real estate? You know, Steven has many holdings - office buildings and such."

Judy related her search for money and the conversation drifted aimlessly until the plates were clean and the last of the wine was in Judy's glass. By then she was feeling loose and giddy. She decided it had been a mistake to have so much wine on top of her exhaustion and an empty stomach. She saw Mrs. Shein drain her glass and decided it would be rude not to do the same.

Mrs. Shein pushed her chair out. "Come with me. I have something I'd like to show you."

Judy followed, puzzled. They crossed the deck to the doors to the master bedroom. Mrs. Shein slid them open and stood aside. Judy stepped into the cool darkness and took off her dark glasses. She heard the door being slid closed behind her. Paula Shein went over to the huge bed.

"Look at this," she instructed calmly, indicating the bedspread with a wave of her hand.

The stain! Judy felt faint as she tottered over to the bed. Dear God, there, right in the middle of the bed was a white, crusty stain. Judy suddenly remembered the nagging worry she had been trying to pin down.

"Oh, how terrible," Judy stammered, "that beautiful bedspread." Mrs. Shein couldn't know how it got there, Judy was thinking frantically. The only thing to do was to brazen it out. She felt the tall woman watching her, and wanted to meet those cool, appraising gray eyes, but couldn't.

"It's washable," Mrs. Shein finally commented placidly. "But I must say, Mrs. Penncroft, I would be most interested in seeing a sample of your sales pitch."

Judy fought a wave of giddiness and terror as the blood drained from her face. "I d-don't know what you mean?" she croaked.

"Nonsense," the other woman replied calmly. "There is no one else who could have done it. It was there when I came home last night. It was still damp."

"Your husband," Judy suggested stupidly, desperately, and then instantly regretted it.

"Impossible," Mrs. Shein said calmly, taking no offense. "Steven was in Topeka yesterday. Granted, he may have left a stain there, but he wasn't responsible for the one here."

Judy's legs were shaking and she wished she could sit down. But she didn't dare.

"Now of course," Mrs. Shein went on in the same reasonable tone, "I am quite certain that it couldn't have been me. So, who does that leave? It could only be you. You were here yesterday afternoon with a client. Correct?"