"You sneaky bastard!" she scorned. "You couldn't sit down and talk it over quietly with me, could you!"
"Would you have given me a divorce?"
"Of course."
"But on your terms. That wouldn't have been at all satisfactory. I have no intention of being stripped of everything simply to get rid of you."
"You mean, money-grabbing bastard!"
"I'll treat you fairly," he said mildly. "You'll be provided for. But I must protect myself against your extortionate demands."
"Why do you need a divorce? I've given you a home and everything else you need."
"I've decided a complete environmental change is essential to me."
"It's that red-headed bitch whose hairs I keep finding on your jacket!"
He smiled complacently. "Naturally, that's an accusation I deny!"
"She's twisted you around her little finger. Now she insists you divorce me, and marry her!"
He smiled smugly. "That is also something I will deny."
Ruth gestured her disgust. "All right, Roger, Do your worst!"
"Now we're making progress," said Roger amiably. "Let's now discuss future procedure so we all know where we stand. I propose to pack a suitcase and leave here together with these gentlemen. That prevents any risk of you claiming I have condoned your adultery. I suggest you will be wise not to contest my application for divorce on grounds of your adultery. I will make adequate provision for you. But without any written agreement. You must accept my word you will receive a monthly check. I will also permit you to keep on the apartment, and retain the furniture. You have financial resources of your own so there's no reason why you should experience any economic difficulties, unless you are extremely foolish. Does that make everything clear?"
"You cold-blooded skunk!"
Roger smiled and nodded as though he'd been complimented. "It's civilized to arrange everything efficiently." He looked at me. "I regret you have to be involved in this unpleasantness, Mr. Davis. But you must have known some risk was involved."
I glowered. I sipped my whisky. I said nothing.
"Mr. Gray, my Legal Adviser, suggests unpleasant publicity can be avoided if you will sign a simple statement," he told me. "Would you care to take over, Mr. Gray?"
Mr. Gray was a seedy little man with a bowler hat jammed down over his ears. He opened a large briefcase, pulled out a folder, adjusted steel-rimmed glasses on his thin, sharp nose and began to read.
It was a long statement, full of whereofs, whereas and heretofores. It was supposed to be a full confession written by me. I must have been watched from the day I met Ruth. They had every detail, my name, address, where I worked, and every date I'd called around to fuck Ruth. It even mentioned the book in the window, to warn me away if her husband was at home. It even recorded how I'd once come over the front of her skirt before she'd had time to take it off. She'd had to send it to the laundry and I suppose they'd fixed to have all her laundry analyzed. The only thing it didn't describe was our methods of fucking.
Mr. Gray handed me the folder and passed me a pen. "If you'll just sign here please, Mr. Davis."
I stared incredulously. "I'm not going to sign this!"
His eyebrows arched high in shocked surprise. All the cog-wheels were meshing neatly, and now I was trying to throw the machinery out of gear. "I strongly advise that you should, Mr. Davis," he warned sternly.
"It's a confession of adultery" I objected. "I'd be crazy to sign it!"
Roger smiled secretly. "You'd better explain, Mr. Gray," he said.
Mr. Gray cleared his throat. "A straightforward confession signed by both parties will facilitate court proceedings enormously. Do I -need to point out how painfully public it will be to prove all this disagreeable evidence in open court, using eyewitnesses. And then, of course, there are the photographs. They will be conclusive evidence to any judge. But they are unlikely to make him feel well-disposed towards the Correspondent."
Mr. Gray painted a clear picture. Sign the confession or a crowded court would hear every detail of the intimacy between me and Ruth. The picture rang warning bells for Ruth. "Sign it, Mike," she said disgustedly. "Roger wouldn't be here without first having every loophole blocked up."
"How well you know me, darling," Roger murmured.
I signed the confession. A paragraph below my name said that Ruth admitted every detail of my confession was correct. Mr. Gray passed the document to her. She signed it angrily and Roger smiled smugly.
"Then that's that!" said Roger. He rose to his feet. "I'll pack a few things now, and send somebody around later for the rest of my clothes." He looked at me and was slyly spiteful. "I don't think they'll fit Mr. Davis."
"Get out," flared Ruth. "Let me see the back of Mr. Gray adjusted his glasses and blinked at me through them. "You'll be notified when to appear in court, Mr. Davis."
I stared at him. "Me. In court? Why?"
"You're the Correspondent,"
There was a queasiness in my belly. "You mean I've got to stand up in court and tell all about this?"
"I'm afraid so, young man," said Mr. Gray sternly. "You can't expect to get away scot-free. Naturally, I must protect my client from unpleasant publicity. So inevitably, you must be the object of my mud-slinging."
I thought of Lillian and Janet. I was pledged to marry them both and now I'd be headlined in the newspapers as a Correspondent.
"I'll go easy on you, Mr. Davis," comforted Roger. "I won't press for heavy compensation."
"Compensation?" I gulped.
"A guilty Correspondent must compensate the aggrieved husband," said Mr. Gray.
"Don't worry. I won't put the screws on too hard," said Roger.
"How… much?" I whispered.
"What do you think, Mr. Gray?" asked Roger.
"If it's your wish, we'll make it very low. We'll make it the very minimum it's wise to ask. A mere symbol. Say… ten thousand dollars."
I couldn't breathe. Ten thousand dollars! A fortune. I couldn't raise half that. "Impossible," I choked.
"Don't worry," comforted Mr. Gray. "We know you haven't the money. But legal problems find their own level, like dirty water. You won't be able to pay. So a writ will be issued. You'll be made bankrupt. Don't worry about a thing. It will all be done for you."
I was gasping. "You'll make me bankrupt?"
"Pure routine. Anyway, you might be lucky," consoled Mr. Gray. "That item in your confession about a warning on the window-sill might tickle an editor's fancy. A four-page spread in a Sunday newspaper, where you confess all your other methods to deceive aggrieved husbands, might earn you enough to pay the compensation."
Roger went into the bedroom to pack. The photographer pointed to a pile of clothing. "That's yours," he told me. I dressed in a daze.
Roger came out from the bedroom swinging a suitcase. He was bright and jaunty. "Shall We go, gentlemen?" He snickered. "Leave the lovebirds together."
Ruth turned her back on me. She told Roger in a strained voice. "Take him with you. Take him with you!"
I wasn't hurt. I knew exactly how she felt. I felt the same. Right then I never wanted to screw again in all my life.
We went down in the elevator. Roger stood in front of me. He smiled mockingly. "How's your prick?"
My prick! My big, fat prick! Once again it had got me into an almighty jam.
"Fuck my prick!" I said. "Fuck all pricks!"
"Interesting," he said whimsically. "So you're a pervert too? Do you think we might add that to his confession, Mr. Gray?"
"Balls!" I told him. The elevator gates slid open and I strode away.
Chapter 5
It was so early in the morning that Dave was asleep. I had to ring the pad doorbell three times before he opened up.
"I've got to talk to you, Dave," I said urgently. He backed away, taking the door with him. I slid inside and closed the door behind me. He was naked and his cock hung limply, showing he'd had a busy night. He stumbled to the narrow bed and sat down. It was a warm morning and the only bedcovering was a thin sheet. All I could see of the girl under it was her black hair, her cheek and one bare shoulder. She stirred lazily as Dave's weight sank down upon the mattress. Then she rolled over and sat up, holding the sheet against her breasts so it just covered her nipples. She eyed me with sleepy interest.