Chapter 2

Paula got through the ceremony somehow, but she was rattled. She could think about nothing but sex. Her hallucinations continued. When they were at the altar with the new minister, Paula even thought she smelled sexual musk.

She spent the whole time sniffing. It so distracted her that when time came for the renewal of the vows, Steve had to poke her before she blurted out her "I do."

I do? I might as well, she thought. She had married Steve because it seemed about time. She stuck out the middle years because of the kids -- and the money. And through the worst of the last years, it came down to money.

For richer or for poorer, the minister had said. Well, it certainly hadn't been for richer. For as much as she'd done to push him ahead at work, he was always complaining about how hard it was to make ends meet. She couldn't get away from it, even on vacation. There they'd be in the suite she'd picked out on top of the cruise ship, and Steve would be whining over a few bottles of champagne for the friends they'd met at dinner.

Her father hadn't complained. But fat chance of getting his money. Mommy was burning through it so fast she'd even started hinting about moving in with them! Had her eye on the guest bedroom next to Steve.

Why didn't Mommy just marry into more money? Paula admitted to herself that she knew why. The same reason she was standing in front of a church while a minister nattered on about the sacredness of marriage.

Because old -- oldish -- women have virtually no resale value. Sure, she could spear some poor schlub who didn't have the money to afford a young wife, but what was the point? She had that already.

And her schlub was hovering in her face. What's his problem, Paula wondered.

"I said," the minister whispered, "he may now kiss the bride. If that's all right with you?"

So Paula kissed him. Even gave him a little tongue, give the guy a treat.

Then she pushed her tongue in deeper. Her right leg rose and curled around him. Her fingers slid through his thick black hair. She felt her pussy tingle.

"Ahem!" Rev. Garretson tapped Paula on the shoulder. Then harder. Then she pried them apart, turning them to face a shocked congregation.

Paula felt everyone's eyes on her, including her husband's. Shit, she thought: she really needed to get laid.

Steve was breathing hard by the time they got to the reception. Even in a van filled with other people, Paula had virtually attacked him. She seemed to have a dozen hands. He'd push away one and another would sneak in.

It wasn't just the audience that freaked him out. There was the little matter of what had happened with Amanda -- and what happened after what happened with Amanda.

The minister had just slipped on her robe and walked out. But Steve had to scramble back into his tux. No time to clean up, and that was one concern. No time to think, that was the other. He'd barely got his pants zipped when Rick had knocked to bring him out for the ceremony.

Something had seemed odd when he stood by the altar, but Paula's bizarre behavior had distracted him.

It was only on the way out, when he reached into his pants pocket to toss Rick his car keys, that Steve realized something was missing.

His briefs.

He couldn't remember seeing them after his episode with the minister. They must have fallen under a chair or -- with a sudden, sick feeling, he remembered seeing a flash of white up the minister's sleeve.

No sooner had the thought come than they were bundled into the van and Paula was groping him.

He was so loaded down with guilt from all his infidelities that he knew he'd blurt out a confession the second she discovered that he'd lost his underwear. At their anniversary celebration, no less!

It was just so shameful. He loved Paula, truly he did. There had been some unfortunate incidents -- he blamed Pete, but it was hard to hold a grudge considering how sick his old friend was. Yet Steve had, he reminded himself, remained as faithful to his wife as she to him.

Until that awful scene with Zosia, their nanny. Steve had gotten quite a fright when he'd seen her in church. She seemed to be with Bobbi Jo. A strange pairing. Zosia certainly had been very hetero with him.

He winced again at the memory. His fatal flaw -- almost fatal; he thanked his stars Paula had taken him back. And that she hadn't found out about her mother.

But he had gone on, vowing to make it up to her, to never stray again. Understandably, she'd been distant. Even before her surgery, they hadn't -- well. Could it really have been two years?

But there he was: married for twenty-five years, wife recuperating, and suddenly he turns into Casanova! Steve felt like a cad.

Could Paula know what he'd done? Was that why she was so suddenly, uncharacteristically amorous?

Or had she at last forgiven his past transgression? Was she trying to welcome him back into her good graces?

He didn't know which possibility made him feel worse.

Paula would have been furious if she hadn't been so miserable, and she wouldn't have been so miserable if she weren't so very, very drunk.

But who, she thought, who could blame her? Over the hill, she was. So far over that even her husband didn't want her.

She demanded another martini of the very cute bartender and gave him what she thought was an alluring look. He all but ignored her, slapping the drink down hastily and then going back to chat with those actor friends of Rick's. They were ignoring her, too, even when she flashed them a bit of leg. That used to never fail, she told herself glumly.

She made a wavering circuit of the tables. It only made her sadder. All her friends -- and a fair sampling of her former lovers, an overlapping set -- they all looked so old.

The only young people in sight were friends of Rick or Suzy. And two or three of them even had children of their own.

That was a depressing notion, she thought. If Rick or Suzy -- oh, god. A grandmother? She could just shoot herself.

At least she felt safe for the time being. Rick was always too busy with school. He hadn't had a girlfriend; he hadn't even gone to prom. Suzy had been the social butterfly, but even she hadn't brought a man home in months -- and she certainly was around the house enough. She'd been over so much recently that it was as if she'd never left.

Suzy had volunteered to house-sit, too, during the two-week vacation they were flying off to early tomorrow morning. Which was silly; Billy would still be there. Her cousin Billy, their live-in housekeeper.

Paula tossed down the rest of her martini with that thought. Billy had been her fall-back lover ever since he'd moved in. A good one, too. But thanks to the damn vacation in damn Fiji, it would be two weeks before she could find out if he was willing to pick up where they'd left off.

No, she thought. No reason to wait. He was there, somewhere. She'd find him and fuck him in the middle of the dance floor if she had to.

Even the voice in Paula's head was slurred, so it took some effort to track down Billy. Some guy in leather -- another of Rick's group, he said -- finally said he'd seen someone looking like Billy going off to the coat room.

She staggered from wall to wall down the long corridor, the hubbub of the party fading away.

The coat room was empty -- or so it first looked to her. Then she noticed a scrum of woodland animals in one corner. Holding her head still and squinting, she was able to make out that it was actually a pile of furs.

Oh, she thought, that's right. Several of her friends would wear their stoles to hell if they thought people would notice.

But the furs were... moving? Paula wondered just how drunk she was.

In ten seconds, she sobered up.

The furs boiled and fell away, revealing a nude couple fucking like bunnies.

Billy, her cousin and housekeeper.

And her daughter Suzy.

Paula slumped against the doorframe, too aghast to speak. She stared in horror and fascination.

Suzy, her dear Suzy, had her athletic legs wrapped tightly around Billy's long frame. Paula noted that, just as when he had fucked her, Billy was taking the lazy approach, mostly keeping still and letting her daughter do all the work.

Suzy didn't appear to mind in the least. She was bucking energetically. Her whole body got into it, so much so that her auburn hair was flying around as her head thrashed among the minks and ermines.

As the couple began to roll around, Paula retreated back into the corridor. But she held the door open just enough to see.

Billy's nakedness she knew well. Her daughter's was almost as familiar; Suzy's bikinis didn't hide much. But seeing her daughter's breasts swinging free was still a shock. They were so firm, so springy, so... so youthful.

Paula was jealous. But more so, she identified with Suzy. Yes, the hair was different, the facial structure altered. But those were her eyes. That was her body, twenty-five years ago. Those were here moves, when she could move like that. That was her drive, taking sex wherever and whenever she could.

As she watched Suzy roll on top and take complete control, Paula imagined herself inside the room. That was her fitting Billy's cock into her slick pussy. Her twisting and shimmying with each stroke.

Paula felt her body respond. Even before her fingers slipped under the waistband of her skirt, her cunt grew hot and wet. As Suzy rose and fell, Paula's hand dipped in and out.

Her nipples rose. A flush spread on her chest. Her breathing became ragged.

Inside the room, two bodies merged. The pace quickened. Sighs turned into moans, moans into strangled screams.

Outside, Paula's hand flew faster and faster. Her thumb twiddled her clit while her fingers pushed deep within. She choked back her own shouts as her body trembled.

Suzy's body was well past trembling. Her hair was a halo of flame around her jerking head, her fists pounding into Billy's chest. "Fuck yes!" she screamed. "Oh, fuck, so good, so fuckin' gooood!"

Paula frantically frigged herself, desperate to get off. So close, so close...

"Paula?" Her mother's voice echoed down the corridor. "Paula, is that you? It's time to go, honey. The limo's here to take you to the airport hotel."

Just another minute, she thought. Just forty-five seconds. Just...

"Come on, Paula? Are you coming?"

Not now I'm not, she thought, pulling her hand out and walking back.

Just to be safe, Steve waited until Paula had gotten into the limo's back seat, then jumped into the front.

"To make sure the driver knows the way," he said. To keep away from Paula's hands, he really meant.

She seemed -- he wasn't sure: Antsy? Angry? Definitely on edge, all the way to the hotel. Like she was on a hair-trigger.

Even on the way out of the reception hall, she'd practically run over some boy from the wedding next door. And then she'd clung to him, apologizing, until the kid had torn himself away and raced back to his mommy.

In the limo, she was on the edge of her seat, head snapping from one side to the other. Just the sight of a couple of homeless guys had her nose pressed to the glass.

At the hotel, she insisted on dragging her own luggage. That really, really worried him. Paula never carried her own bags. Was she sending him a message? Was it her way of saying she didn't need anyone's help, she didn't need a philandering husband?

That had to be it, he thought. He dreaded going up to the room. She must be waiting to have it out with him when they were alone.

Steve dawdled as much as he could at check-in. Finally he had to go. He persuaded the bellboy to take the luggage cart up in the elevator with them, so they wouldn't be alone.

As soon as they got to the room, he stuffed a five into the kid's hand. Grabbing his overnight bag, Steve ducked into the bathroom and locked the door.