Eagerly, Reggie pressed forward. Obsessed, he forgot everything in the excitement of what he was doing. His ears rang with the pressure of the clenched thighs squeezing them. The muscles of his neck bulged against the pressure of her hands pressing down on his head. And all the time one of his hands moved like a machine inside his trousers.
Suddenly the pressure of Shari’s thighs relaxed. Her hands stopped pressing down and clenched at the roots of his hair instead. The frenzied movements of her passion gave way to a warning signal of sudden stillness. Reggie stopped moving, and as he heard the voice, he made a conscious effort to stop breathing.
“Isn’t Mr. Ivers in yet?” It came from the office doorway, the measured tones of Stanley J. Kirkwood, Reggie’s boss, the head of the agency for which he worked.
“Yes sir, he’s in,” Shari answered calmly. “He stepped into the men's room for a moment. He should be right back.”
“What are you doing sitting at his desk?” Kirkwood asked disapprovingly.
“I was just straightening up some papers for him, sir. He asked me to.”
“I see. Well, then I guess it’s all right. You just go on with what you’re doing. I’ll wait for him.” Kirkwood sat down in the leather armchair across the office.
“I will sir,” Shari answered evenly. She began squeezing and contracting her thighs against Reggie’s cheeks again.
The brazen bitch! he thought, torn between panic, admiration for her nerve, and excitement at the idea of pulling it off right under Kirkwood’s very nose. The sense of thrill won out, and he cautiously nuzzled forward again, reaching to caress himself at the same time. It went quickly then, and only a moment or two later Reggie had to stifle the impulse to cry his satisfaction aloud. The timing was perfect, for Shari half-rose out of the swivel-chair at precisely the same instant. However, her little triumphal cry of fruition was not squelched.
“Eh, my dear? What’s that you say?” Kirkwood looked up from the papers he’d been scanning.
Under the desk, Reggie crammed a handkerchief in his mouth to gag the uncontrollable giggles which swept over him.
“Nothing,” Shari said, her voice shaking a little. “Mr. Ivers asked me to check the figures on this account, and I just found the mistake he was looking for."
“Well, you shouldn’t get so excited about it, my dear. Look at you. Your face is all flushed.”
“I take my work seriously,” Shari told him gravely, her hand groping under the desk to tickle Reggie’s ear.
“Very commendable, I’m sure.” Kirkwood’s voice grew impatient. “What the devil can be keeping Ivers?" he said.
“He’s m the men’s room, sir. Why don’t you go back to your office and I’ll tell him you want to see him when he gets back."
“I suppose you’re right. Fellow’s gone so long he must have diarrhea,” Kirkwood grumbled. “Oops! Beg your pardon, my dear. Well, tell him to see me when he gets back."
Reggie heard the door close behind Kirkwood and came out from under the desk. He and Shari must have laughed together for a solid five minutes. After which she put her panties back on and they both went about their business tasks . . .
Remembering it now, in bed with his incapacitated wife, with Harriet’s tears just beginning to subside, it wasn’t the humor which filled Reggie’s mind, but the erotic imagery of what he and Shari had done. He reached over to the night table and picked up his wristwatch. It was still early. He got up out of bed and started to dress.
“Where are you going?” Harriet asked, startled at his abruptness.
“Back to town. There’s some business I have to take care of.”
“At this hour? And on a miserable night like this? Are you out of your mind? Can’t it wait until morning?”
“No, it can’t. I just had an idea for a whole campaign. I want to get to the office and get it down on paper while it’s still fresh."
“Why can’t you do it here, downstairs in your study?”
“Because I have to check out certain. data.” said Reggie smoothly, thinking fast. “And the information I need is in the office."
“I don’t believe you!” Harriet’s voice rose hysterically. “You’re going to see some woman!”
“Of course I am!" Reggie’s tone was savage. “Not just one, several. I’m going to have an orgy! Hell, I’m a satyr! You know that. After all, I must be. Don’t I even force myself to try to make love to you once a month?”
Harriet’s wail of protest rang in Reggie’s ears as he went down the stairs and into the garage. But he’d forgotten her completely by the time he pulled the car onto the Long Island Expressway. Gale-force winds battered the auto as he crossed the Throgg’s Neck Bridge, but Reggie barely noticed them. His mind was busy with imaginings of the wild sex he would find when he reached Manhattan.
When he did, he parked outside a drug store on upper Broadway and went in to use the telephone. Shari’s voice sounded surprised to hear him.
“Gee, Reggie,” she said, “I’m sorrv. I’m busy tonight.”
A laugh sounded in the background and Reggie heard a muffled male voice. “You can say that again, baby,” it said.
“All night?" Reggie asked a little plaintively. “Yes, all night,” Shari answered firmly.
“Can’t you get rid of him?” Reggie asked.
“Give me that phone!” The male voice was loud now. “Buzz off, you creep,” he shouted and there was a click in Reggie’s ear.
That lousy double-crossing slut! Reggie thought to himself. Well, her days are numbered. Yessir, I’m about due for a new secretary!
He pulled an address book from his pocket, thumbed through it, and then dialed another number. The female voice that answered sounded sleepy.
“Hi, Noreen. Reggie Ivers here. Thought you might be in the mood for a little company tonight.”
“You’ve got your nerve! I was sound asleep.”
“I’ll bring the champagne if you’ll scramble the eggs.” Reggie was trying to be ingratiating.
“Oh, no, you won’t! I’m going back to sleep. And alone!” She hung up on him.
The tramp! And after, the bundle he’d spent on her, too!
Reggie dialed again. “Hello, Emma, this is Reggie,” he said when the phone was answered.
“What do you want?”
“You, baby, like always.”
“Oh, sure. That’s why I haven’t heard from you all these months.”
“I’m sorry, honey. But work’s been keeping me busy as hell. Honey. Not a day went by I didn’t think of you, though. Remember that swinging night we had? I thought we might try it again.”
“Not on your life! I remember, all right, and probably a damn sight better than you do. I remember that you got me all hot and bothered and then passed out on me, leaving me all hung up. I’m not going through that again!"
“Aw, Emma, don’t be like that. I was soused. It could happen to anybody. Let’s give it another try.”
“No thanks. Once with a lover-boy like you is enough for me. If you want my advice, Reggie, you’ll go home to your wife. Maybe you can make it with her. And don’t bother calling me again!" This time the force with which the receiver was slammed hurt Reggie’s ear.
He made six more calls, but the results were the same. Yet with each disappointment, his desire grew. He needed a woman, damn it! He’d have one tonight even if he had to pay for it!
And so he called Heidi, the only call girl whose number he could remember offhand. “Miss DeVoe is out,” her answering service informed him.
“Do you know where she can be reached?”
“No. She cannot be reached until morning. If you care to leave a number, I’ll have her call you back."
“Never mind," Reggie muttered and hung up.
He ordered a cup of coffee at the drug-store counter and sat over it, brooding. Can I help it if every girl I meet just rolls over her back and begs me for it? Bitterly, he recalled how smugly he’d thought that earlier in the evening when he’d been driving home from the group session. And the more he mooned over this shattered self-image, the greater became his sex urge and his determination to have a woman.