Chapter 3

"Well, Howie, my boy," Ralph Taylor said jovially, "you about ready to see how those pictures worked?"

Howard had been in his office for the better part of three hours now, having come back from his dinner hour still disturbed over what he'd done. All the way home and all during the time he was with his wife he kept telling himself he wouldn't leave the corrupting manila envelope of photos and paper... but he had! He didn't feel right about it, not right at all... but the damage had been done. He was here, waiting for some customer to walk on the lot and take his mind away from what he'd done. He had resolved that when midnight came and he could go home, he would straightaway take that packet and burn it if his wife hadn't opened it yet. More than once he'd thought about calling her, telling her under no circumstances should she open it... but every time his hand went to the phone, he stopped. To tell her would be tantamount to confessing that he knew what was in it; Cindy wasn't dumb and she'd figure that she'd been set up.

Instead of a customer, in had walked Ralph. There hadn't been a customer all the while he had been back at Auto Circus, nothing to relieve the time-heavy wait. And of all the people he didn't want to see at the moment was his boss, the very man who had turned his head and suggested the whole stupid idea.

But, like the professional salesman that he was, Howard swallowed his inner feelings and smiled heartily. "Oh, hello, Ralph. I didn't see you. Aren't you supposed to be home now?"

"Hah, hah, home is where the heart is," came the answer, "and tonight I felt that I should see how my friend is doing. And you are my friend, you know, as well as my star salesman." He chuckled again. "Besides, Norma's got a bridge club meeting going on at the house. My heart is certainly not out for any of her friends."

"Oh." Howard shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Not much going on tonight, I'm afraid."

"Can't expect much, not on a weekday night in between paydays. I sometimes wonder whether it's worth staying open." He sighed, looking out the window at the rows of gleaming cars and then beyond, at the all but deserted main street. "Everybody's home in bed or at my house, playing cards."

"Uh-huh." Howard tried to think of some work to do; anything so he could look busy and have an excuse not to talk. There was nothing; he'd finished the paper, and all he could do was sit.

"Like I said, boy, how do you think it will go?"

Howard felt his face color. "I... I don't know."

"What? After three years you can't figure on how your wife will react?"

"It isn't that, Ralph." Here we go again, back in the same embarrassed, defensive position I was earlier. God, I must look stupid to him... "It's just that Cindy's not all that experienced. I mean, there's a lot of difference between three years and ten." Good... throw it back on him...

Ralph laughed. "Got a point there. Norma was the same way, just like I told you. Shy as the dickens. That's why I'm telling you how to work it, my boy, because I found out the hard way." He leaned over, his breath heavy of cigar and bourbon. "Tell you what. Why don't you close up the lot and we'll go have a drink. We can talk man-to-man, and I'll give you a few more pointers.

The last thing I need now is a few pointers from him, Howard thought, but he knew it would be useless to argue. "All right," he said, feigning joviality. "Take me just a minute."

"Good, good."

A few minutes later the two of them were in Ralph's car, a one-year old Cadillac recently put on the lot and which he'd taken a liking to. Until it was sold, that is, and then he'd pick another big, pretentious car. Howard stared out the window. He thought that they would have walked up to the corner and the little neighborhood tavern, but instead Ralph had "suggested" (the suggestion a command in this instance) that they go downtown to a cocktail lounge in Morriston's fancy and plush hotel, The Constantinople. He felt acutely uncomfortable, as though again he was getting into more than he bargained for, but there wasn't any way he could see of getting out of it. But one drink or two wouldn't make any difference, could it? Besides, he could use it, he told himself; he had a bad case of the jitters at the thought of what he'd done and the storm that might be waiting for him when he got home.

A very irate and indignant wife, that's what. He shut his eyes, trying to blot out the thought.

Ralph found a parking place near the hotel. "Here we are, my boy." There seemed to be a wicked gleam in his eye, thought his salesman, and the way he's rubbing his hands together! The only time Howard had seen his boss do that was after the closing of a deal, when a customer had been badly overcharged or loaded with a lemon. Again, the nagging doubts as to "stopping for a drink" entered Howard's thoughts, but he went along, through the revolving door, into the deep-carpeted lobby.

The hotel's lounge was called The Arabian Knight, and was decorated in a mock Byzantine opulence not at all like Constantinople or Arabia in their most wicked days, but more like a Hollywood dream sequence of what life should have been back then. A pert waitress passed among the quite large crowd, dressed in a harem costume of spangled bra and pantaloons. The pantaloons were see-through gossamer, a wide triangle of gold coins woven together acting as the covering of her pubic area. She had long hair, similar to Cindy's long black, and an exciting, provocative wiggle which in spite of himself made Howard look.

Ralph's eyes were fastened on her, drawn to the rotating buttocks like air to a broken vacuum. "Hot damn!" the manager exclaimed. "She gets better looking every time I come in here!"

The waitress came over to the table where they were sitting. She smiled perfunctorily at Howard, and grinned at Ralph; she was obviously acquainted with him. Howard had the odd thought pass through him of how well? Ralph said: "Double bourbons." "Ralph, I--" Howard started to protest.

"Come on, my boy. The night's young, and the drinks are on me." He winked at the waitress. "She looks damned tempting, doesn't she, Howie?"

The girl stuck her tongue out in mock pique, then took her tray and walked off, her rear end twitching provocatively. Ralph laughed, as much at her as at Howard's embarrassment. Howard knew now he was right; he was over his head again, and Ralph was an over-powering force, a person he couldn't hope to cope with.

The drinks appeared quickly and again the waitress swished her thighs and jiggled her full, barely contained breasts. This time Ralph leaned over and patted her buttocks lightly. The scent of sex was suddenly strong in the air, and trembling, Howard picked up his drink and downed it before he realized how strong and how full it was. He exploded with the burning heat in his throat and stomach, reaching for the water back.

"Another!" crowed Ralph, laughing loudly at Howard's coughing. "And one for me!" He gulped his drink as though it was lemonade.

Another round appeared beside Howard before he'd fully recovered from the last. He vowed to keep it there on the table, but somehow he was sipping it every time Ralph raised his glass to his lips, and that was often. Got to watch it... can't get drunk... not with Ralph... not with Cindy waiting at home for me...

"Here's a toast, Howie," Ralph said on the third double. "To the only man I've known in the car business who I can trust. Yes sir, you're interested in getting ahead, but by sticking with me, not stabbing me in the back."

Howard was stunned. He realized that the bourbon was getting to Ralph--was getting to him, too, by the way the room was starting to lose its clarity--but he never bargained on hearing such strong praise. It made him feel important and proud. He vowed that he would never go against Ralph, that his manager could always count on him. He raised his glass. "That's right," he said, his tongue rolling around the words. "I'm for you one hunn'er'pershent." He blinked. "Hundred percent," he repeated.

"Heh, heh," Ralph chortled at nothing in particular and clinked glasses. "Here's to us, the swinger and the prude!"

Howard suddenly froze. "Wh... what? Me, a prude?"

"No offense, my boy," Ralph beamed. "I'm a live'r, and you? Well, let's just say that you're a little too much of a stuffed shirt at times."

The waitress appeared with another double shot. It was over-full, the bartender knowing good customers when he saw them and wanting them to stay. What the hell is this bourbon? Howard thought, his head swimming, high octane aviation fuel? Then he saw Ralph stroke the waitress's thigh with loving fingers.

"Got to hand it to you," he admitted in a sudden pang of realization that what Ralph was saying was all too true. "Got to be honest and admit it. I am conservative." He had trouble with the word, instead pronouncing it, "coservative."

"Don't let it worry you, Howie, my boy," Ralph said. "In time you'll loosen up a bit." He leaned forward, almost hitting the glasses of bourbon, and said conspiratorially to Howard, "Now, for instance, tonight, if I were you, I would go home and have nothing to do with the little woman."

"I... I don't follow."

"You're worried about how Cindy will react to those pictures, right?" Ralph didn't wait for an answer but went on. "Well, do what I did. Don't touch her. Don't fuck her for three days. Hell, make it four!" he said expansively. "She'll want it then, and all the time those pictures will be on her mind, and she won't be able to get them out of her thoughts, seeing all those wild couples doing it and not her. Got me?"

"Yes, but--"

"Now that doesn't mean you have to go without a little ass. I'm not, that's for sure. We're going to get some fun, that's what we're going to do."

"No!" Howard cried, jerking backwards. He suddenly caught on to what his boss had in mind. Another woman! To be unfaithful to Cindy! The whole idea was ridiculous! Unthinkable! "No! I couldn't do that!"

"Damnit, sure you can! You're a man, aren't you?" Ralph's sudden snarl turned into a tone of conciliation. "The trouble with you is that you were raised as a Puritan, my boy, where sex is considered a sin unless for making kids. It's not, and never has been. Sex is good, clean fun and a hot experience whenever and wherever it can be had. And it can't take away any of your love for your wife. I love Norma; love her very much, but we're not exclusive possessions of one another. I--"

Ralph suddenly stopped his talk, and was looking over across the still crowded cocktail lounge. "Ah," he said. "Here they come."

"Who?" Howard asked, afraid he knew already.

"Our fun for tonight," Ralph said with a wink. Howard's mind tumbled crazily from Ralph's strong words of wisdom, his explicitly stated faith in his salesman, and the strong drink. He stared over his shoulder at the two women who were approaching the table. He wanted to get up... to run home and bury his head in his wife's breasts and forget what was happening... but it was as if he had grown roots to the chair.

"Now don't let me down, my boy," Ralph whispered. "I'm counting on you."

Counting oil you... counting on you... the words burned home. The women were now at the table, and Ralph made room for one, a short, highly developed brunette in a thin sheath. Howard suddenly found a tall, lithe blond haired girl beside him, her luminous green eyes sparkling and her tightly encased buttocks against his. "Hi," she said musically, "I'm Bonnie."

"He... hello," Howard replied. "My name's Howard."

"Call him Howie," Ralph said. "And this here's Linda."

"Pleased to meet you, Howie," Linda said, smiling. "Where's my 'laughing widow, ' Ralph?"

Ralph snapped his fingers and gave the waitress an order for two more double bourbons and two "laughing widows." Howard asked what the hell a laughing widow was and Bonnie giggled, explaining that it was three dashes of bitters, one part gin, two parts vodka, and a pearl onion. Howard grimaced, which caused more laughter.

They fell into easy conversation, far easier than Howard had thought possible. Both girls were witty, intelligent people, both divorced, and both had jobs as "models." Neither girl was anything except vague about their work, preferring to talk about what the men did. This, in spite of the fact it was obvious that Ralph was on intimate terms with Linda. Howard had an awful suspicion just how intimate, too. The drinks came, Howard sampled the "laughing widow" and promptly handed it back, and then there was another round... and another...

"Gee," Linda said at one point, "I'm sure glad you could take care of my friend Bonnie, tonight, Ralph. Like I said, since she's new in town, we had to come together or not at all. Sure nice you had a dream-boat of a friend like Howie-baby."

Howard reacted with pure horror. Even in his now liquor fogged mind he was able to see clearly that this had all been a trap, a gigantic plot by Ralph right from the very first to suck him down here, get him drunk, and palm off this Bonnie so that he could make time with Linda. Yet, as he looked at the flashing eyes and enticing young all-woman next to him, he suddenly wasn't mad at his boss. What the hell; everybody was having a good time, weren't they? No harm done...

There was another round, and then Linda said, "Well, let's get the show on the road, fellows. We've got to get our beauty sleep."

At first Howard thought that was the signal to break up the evening and say good-night to the girls. But he was wrong. Oh, so wrong. He found himself linked arm-in-arm with Bonnie, walking out of The Arabian Knight, across the lobby and into the elevator. He looked around confusedly. "What?" he said when Bonnie said something to him.

"I said, the party's going to move to my room now, Howie-baby. Just a private party, for us two!"

"But... but what about Ralph?"

She giggled. "They'll be right next door if Howie-baby needs help. I heard that this was your first time, but..." and here she paused, breathing hotly and wetly into his ear,"... but I don't think that you're going to need any help at all. I can tell you want me."

Wild-eyed he looked at Ralph for help, but Ralph was pressing Linda against the otherwise deserted elevator car, kissing her hotly... and Linda was kissing back with the same ardor! Numb, he staggered from the car and down the hall, his mind screaming for him to stop, but his will to resist was eroded beyond comprehension. As Bonnie put her key in the door lock, he cried out hoarsely, "Ralph! I--! I--!"

"Remember what I said downstairs, my boy," came the dark almost ominous reply. "Remember about sticking with me and going places, and about the fun which can be had. I paid for both of them, my boy... now don't let me down. Show her--and me--that you're a real man!"