Chapter 3

The white convertible turned into the alleyway that led to the Richard's suburban home. Martin turned off the lights as he guided the sleek '68 model car along the narrow roadway until they were behind her house. She lay half lifeless on the seat beside him.

Her tears had dried streaks of mascara on her cheeks. She had cried for most of the ride until finally no more tears would come. No matter what had been going wrong between she and Greg, it was no reason for infidelity. Her mind was made up. She would tell Martin that the mistake would not happen again. She would not tell Greg, and beg, if she had to, for Martin not to disclose what had happened. With this new understanding, perhaps both the Kelly's and the Richard's could work out their marital problems. She had no fear. Firm in her convictions, she felt like Joan of Arc, ready to do battle for what she believed was right. There was no other course.

"Wake up," Martin told her. He was unaware that she only feigned sleep. "You're home now. Wake up, Janet."

She turned and shook her head as if to thrust the sleep from her foggy mind. Rather than talk on the drive home, she had pretended to pass out. It saved unnecessary talking and had given her the time she needed to think.

"I'm awake, Martin," she said as he got out of the car and walked to the other side to let her out. "You don't have to walk me to the door. I'm fine. Besides, there is something I want to tell you now. If we can get this straight, then there will be no problems."

"You can tell me inside," he said as he opened the screen door, taking the key from her hand and unlocking the door. "What we need is some hot coffee if we plan to talk."

"No, Martin, really..."

"You're not going to say no to me now, are you?" he said, almost pushing her inside with his hand. He looked for a moment for the illuminated night switch, then flicked it up. The fluorescent lights flickered hesitantly before sharing their energy with the rest of the room.

Janet did not want him in the house. This was her refuge from Martin and the outside world. It belonged to her and to Greg. "Martin, please, not tonight."

"I like mine black," he said curtly, walking through the swinging door to the living room as though he owned the house.

Janet stood in the glaring light for a moment, not knowing what to do. Perhaps, if she gave him the coffee, she could make him understand. She turned, looking for the coffee, but could not remember where she kept it in her own kitchen. Get a hold on yourself, she thought, as tears started to fill her weary eyes again. How am I going to do anything if I fall apart. Where is the coffee? The white canister stood where it always had on the counter next to the built-in range.

She walked to the counter and removed the wooden lid. Automatically she scooped six tablespoons of the freshly ground beans into the clean white pot. Staring at the percolator she became impatient that it would not perk immediately. This is ridiculous, she thought. I'm standing in my own kitchen making coffee for a man who has just screwed me in his hopped up automobile, a man who is supposed to be my husband's best friend, and now I've used him, and he is going to think it represents something more. Why must I have these problems? Not even the damn coffee pot will work right. What is becoming of me. Am I so rotten as to hurt Martin as well as Greg? Please hurry, coffee!

Her hair was tangled and she tried to straighten it. The image reflected in the glass door of the oven was one of a woman who did not deserve the good life she had, she thought. I look like a whore, and now I'm beginning to feel like one. But I'll find a way out, I just have to. The coffee started to boil over. It had been perking too long.

"Where's my coffee," Martin shouted just before she swung open the kitchen door and entered the room. Martin was sitting on the overstuffed couch in front of the stone fireplace. He had built a fire that was already roaring. He was looking through a new woman's magazine that Janet had purchased the day before.

"These women's magazines are unbelievable," he said smiling almost contemptuously at her as she crossed the room. "There is more sex and sex problems in this single issue than anyone would ever suspect of finding in Lady Chatterly's Lover. It's no wonder that women can think of nothing else to talk about, except their sex lives, or the sex lives they wished they had. I probably would too if I read this kind of trash all the time."

"That's not so," she said, finding that she was defending herself. She wanted to get to the point and make things clear to Martin. Confession was supposed to be good for the soul. She wanted to tell him that she had used him. Perhaps, he would understand. He must understand, she thought. He's too kind, too intelligent not to.

"Those magazines have good advice, Martin. Maybe if more women read them, and maybe men, too, you and I wouldn't have the marriage problems we do," she said, handing him a cup of hot black coffee. "Thank you. Here, have some of this," he said, pulling the leather covered flask from his pocket. I saved some for us."

"No, Martin, I can't," she protested as he poured a shot into her cup. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about, Martin. What happened tonight was a horrible mistake. It just can't be allowed to happen again."

"A mistake. Who the hell are you trying to kid. I'm not a school boy, young lady. You practically raped me on the dance floor, and certainly didn't object when we drove to Mulholland. Now you are going to try to tell me it was a mistake? What's the matter, didn't you like it? Say no to that and you take the cake as liar of the year."

"Martin, we were drunk..."

"Oh, Hell, who are you trying to kid. You were as horny as a goddamn bitch in heat."

"Please," she said. "Try to listen. I don't want you to misunderstand. You must believe me. I..."

"Drink your coffee. We came inside for coffee didn't we?" he said. "Don't shake your head. Drink your coffee!" Janet obeyed. His tone frightened her, and she picked up the cup, sipping at the laced drink. Surprisingly the liquor he had poured into the cup wasn't bitter at all. It added a little something to the taste, more of a tang, than an alcoholic taste. She took a big gulp. Martin smiled.

"Martin, I was going to try to make Greg jealous. I wanted to use you. I'm sorry for that. I didn't mean it to go so far. I--I just got carried away."

Martin laughed. He spilled some of his coffee. Use me, he thought, that has got to be the ultimate. She wanted to use me. He couldn't stop laughing.

"What's so funny? What did I say, Martin? I didn't mean to hurt you." His laughter increased to an almost roar. "Stop it! Please stop it!" she screamed.

He settled down for a moment, still smiling his contemptuous smile. Neither said anything for almost a minute. Janet was terrified at the grin on his face. For the first time since she had known Martin, she was aware that there was more to his smile than mirth. "Why--Why were you laughing at me?" she asked.

"I suppose you could call it a private joke. I've never been used by a woman before, not to go to bed anyway."

Janet sipped at her coffee. She was beginning to feel slightly dizzy again. The movements in the room were slowing down. The fire made it much too hot for her. She wanted to hurry and undress upstairs and climb into bed. The thought of bed unexpectedly excited her.

"I told you," she said. "I didn't want it to go that far."

"Sure you did. But do you think for one minute that I'm going to believe you. You work well, and fast. I never saw a woman so eager to fuck."

"Martin!" she exclaimed, unable to say any more. The word had shocked her, but the thought it conjured only excited her. She could not understand the sudden erection of her nipples as he had said it. She was afraid of the eyes that looked intently at her.

"What do you plan to do, Janet? Tell Greggy boy that his little wife took his best friend out and screwed him in his car like a teenager?" he said, his grin widening. "No, I don't think you will. I'm still his best friend, and a deceitful man would believe a friend before he would believe a deceitful wife."

"What do you mean deceitful man?"

"For Chrissake, don't tell me you don't know that your precious husband is a thief."

"What? You're wrong. You're lying, Martin, Why? Stop it. Please don't."

"He didn't tell you, did he?" Martin said, knowing that she was innocent of her husband's wrong-doings. "How do you think that you can afford this nice house, or the new car or the color television and stereo? Do you think Greggy boy did it all with his own little hands. Well, on second thought, he did," he laughed again, "but with sticky fingers."

He watched her shocked look. Tears streamed down her already tear stained face in long black streaks from her mascara. Impossible! she thought. Greg would never lie to me. He would never steal. Martin watched her for a moment. "Your display of loyalty and shock is touching, but entirely useless. If you didn't know before that he was stealing, then I'm doing you a favor by showing you that your husband is a man you can't trust to tell you his most important secret, the one that is haunting him, keeping him out of your bed. But then, he may have found another bed more to his liking. If he could lie to you about this, he could certainly lie to you about screwing another woman."

"Please," she sobbed. "It's not true! I know it's not!"

He ignored her plea. "I can prove every word of it, at least about the embezzlement. And if I tried hard enough, I could probably find a mistress of his somewhere in town. I know him well enough. Probably better than you do."

Janet absorbed his words slowly, one at a time. The drug had already taken effect, accenting his usual precise speech and manner. He took another sip of coffee. "He can't trust himself, how will he be able to trust you either." He said. "Imagine the look on his face if he had seen us in the car."

"Oh, Martin, how could you? I thought you were so..."

"So sweet? Wasn't that what you said earlier? It's about time you learned that there is very little in this world that is sweet, starting now."

Janet could not comprehend the full impact of what had happened to her in the last few minutes. Her world was tumbling down on top of her like a fallen fortress, whose walls had been demolished by a tremendous onslaught of cannon fire. Fear was building in her, but so was another unexplained emotion. For the first time in her life she knew that she was completely at another person's mercy, but she wasn't as frightened of that fact as by the uncertainty that life now held for her.

"Do you think you could afford to expose us to Greg? Would it be worth his life in prison to you? You are going to do everything I tell you Janet, and without delay. If not, Greg will spend the best years of his life in jail."

"Martin..." she started to argue with him, but knew there were no words that would change his mind. "What about Darleen? she'll find out sooner or later."

"You still haven't caught on, have you? Darleen knows all about this tonight. Do you think she could get a headache after spending half the day getting ready to go out with us. Not on your life. She was out getting herself screwed half silly, just like you. The only difference is, she'll never see him again. But I plan to see a great deal of you."

Janet sat motionless as he moved across the couch to her. Her coffee was gone and the drug held her in complete submission to whatever would be demanded of her.

"I'm going to see a lot more of you," he said. "Starting now."

"What do you mean?" she asked between the soft heaving sobs coming from her throat. The girl had begun to regain control, but still did not completely understand what he wanted of her. The shock she had suffered, realizing that he was not the kind man she had thought still clouded her mental senses. She could not quite grasp what he wanted. Afraid to admit that he wanted her for a part time bed partner, she tried to find other solutions, but nothing would suffice.

"You're not stupid, Janet. Figure it out for yourself."

"You don't mean that you expect me to continue..."

"Precisely. You enjoyed it as much as I did, probably more. We can continue for a long time, with no annoyances from your husband. His mistake has become our good fortune. He can't object, and for his sake, neither can you."

It was true, she thought. There is no way out of this but if he will only leave now, I'll be safe until I can think of something.

"You're trembling. Are you afraid?"

Janet could not answer. Her voice was caught in her throat. Though she felt the heat from the fireplace, her body shivered with chills. It might have been easier for her if she hadn't already submitted to Martin once. But the thought of his lovemaking moved another shudder through her body. She had enjoyed it. There remained no doubt of that. Martin was more experienced than Greg. He knew how to make her feel like a woman wanted to feel. But... The nagging fear, the strict Midwestern upbringing, the morals of a church centered society still plagued her. She was married to Greg for better or worse. I just can't, she thought. I just can't do it again with another man.

"I want some more of that tight little pussy of yours." Martin said grinning lewdly and looking down at her exposed knees.

Janet reached nervously for the small pot trying to stall him off. "I don't mean coffee, baby, we're going upstairs, to bed. There's enough aphrodisiacs in the two cups that we've had to keep us going all night."

Janet recoiled at his words, she didn't know what to think. Had she really been drugged? Was all of this such an evil plan, that every detail had been taken care of. Janet suddenly realized that more than a victim of circumstance, she had become a victim of a drug, a horrible drug that took her control away.

Aware of the cause, she now knew why everything had gone into slow motion. She knew why his touch had been so satisfying, so intriguing. "Let's go," he said. I don't like to waste time."

The girl refused to stand and he pulled her to her feet. "We're going to screw in your husband's bed. Won't you like that?" he said smiling. "I'm going to fuck you like never before, and you won't stop begging for it until you can't take anymore!"

His words were true. She knew that he could do all that he said and the sounds that vibrated through her head as he spoke intensified the growing feeling inside her. She stood helpless as he turned her around and unfastened the back of her dress and let it fall to the floor. Her panties were in her purse, where she had put them after they had finished in the car. She was completely naked and exposed to the fire whose flaming warmth licked over the sensitive nerves of her skin like some evil tongue of the devil of lust. Her nipples rose at the sudden exposure to the air. She stared straight ahead as though in a trance as he surveyed her body. But, in spite of her immobility, she seemed to sense the physical presence of his eyes as they traveled over the whiteness of her body, looking searchingly for flaws that they would not find.

Martin undressed himself as she stood a few feet from him. His penis was soft and swayed as he stepped toward her. That was the organ which had given her so much before, she thought. And now, it didn't seem to be what she wanted, but her body knew differently. A dampness swelled in her vagina lubricating her passage and softening the already soft, silken lips of her vulva.

"Upstairs," he commanded and her body obeyed mechanically. Her mind refused to follow his directions and with all the willpower that she could muster she tried to stop her legs from moving, but it was no use. Each step was as if she were walking on a cloud. She was in a dream world, swaying with every motion. She felt his hand touch her soft, swaying buttocks as he followed her up the long staircase.

Janet stopped and turned on the stairs to look down at the man following behind her. She watched his large, still soft penis swing back and forth like a pendulum as he climbed the last two steps. Then, when his face was level with her loins, he bent forward and kissed the silken hair on her pubic mound. His lips seared lewdly through and into the nakedness of her overheated skin. She could feel his tongue wet a small portion of her flesh and the goose bumps rise all over her as it brought an involuntary shudder rippling through her body.

Oh no! I can't do this, she thought, helplessly, and turned panic-stricken to run into her private bedroom, seeking sanctuary. It was her domain, hers and Greg's. No one could intrude. It was her fortress, her castle, fortified with the strength of her love for her husband. Nothing could conquer that. She was safe! Safe!

But, a moment later, Martin entered the room. His smile was still bright, even in the dim light. He was a man sure of himself, sure in the knowledge that he could possess this girl anyway he wished and no one, particularly her, would stop him.

Janet dropped to the edge of the bed and watched him, her eyes open wide and her tortured mind knowing she could retreat no further. There was no where else to go.

"I didn't know you were so anxious." he said, his lewd grin broadening. "I'm glad you see things my way. If we cooperate, our times together will be most pleasurable for both of us."

Janet sat looking at him. Her gaze was transfixed on his eyes. She clenched her hands into the bed spread and spoke. "I can't do this, Martin. I don't care what the cost." But her words were soft. There was no authority and only a minor note of conviction. Janet knew that the speech she was trying to make would do no good. Her body was warm. A fire was building down between her legs, a fire stoked only by the obscene picture of the naked man standing before her and for some reason she knew she would not be able to resist if he so much as touched her.

Martin walked toward her. Standing only a foot from her he held out his hand and touched her breast, teasing a nipple with his fingers. His large penis hung waiting, like a patient cobra between his legs. It was soft and heavy. "You've finished with your childish tantrum, I hope?" he questioned, knowing the answer in advance.

He pulled her closer to him, holding her head close to his hairy stomach. She could smell the odors from their sexual encounter an hour before and her heart began beating faster. Her fear was transforming to sexual excitement. "Suck it!" he commanded pushing her head lower to his penis. "I want it in that pretty little mouth now. Suck it!"

Janet was frightened at what he had said but her vagina involuntarily filled with more fluids as the lewd, obscene thought whirled around in her confused mind. She had read of felatio in some of the magazines, but never had tried it with Greg. It was too awful, too perverse! "I can't," she groaned, "please, Martin, don't make me do it. I just can't."

But the heavy hand on her head pushed her mouth closer to the soft, smooth tip that hung a few tantalizing inches from her face.

Tears flowed from her eyes, across her cheeks to the skin of his abdomen. And slowly as though she were hypnotized, she took the cock in her hand, kissing gingerly. It wouldn't bite, she knew that, but it wasn't right, it wasn't human.

But, it was hot in her palm. "Suck it!" he commanded fiercely.

She hesitantly leaned forward and kissed the top of his penis, moving her mouth toward the end. The head was terrifying. Her fear was terrifying, but she must obey. There was no other way. She must obey Martin and the new, exciting craving deep within her belly.