But no, it wasn't the same. He got up and went into the bathroom, where he swallowed two sleeping-pills. First time in his life he'd ever resorted to drugs. And, as he got back into bed, David wondered how many more such "firsts" were ahead for him.
TWELVE
Respectable married ladies do not go out on-the-prowl at night. Linda Fortune discovered this social stumbling-block all too soon, and her desperate hope to find other men as turbulent as Brad Grogan had only ended in more anguish and frustration for her. There was no sane method for her to recruit exciting sex-partners without suffering even more humiliation than she had during the degrading episode with Brad. And yet, this beast of a man had stirred up a sensual unrest within her, so how could she simply wait to be sought-out or discovered by a likely prospect? If only wife-and-husband-swapping were as prevalent in the suburbs as everyone thought, it might somehow alleviate the tension. Except that she didn't really want anyone from her own set, anyone familiar to her. Brad had been out of the local picture just long enough for her to find him as new and alien as he was pompous. But of course, seeing him again was out of the question.
It would be a blessing if that interlude had never occurred. Perhaps then she might still be the safe, controlled housewife she'd been before Brad had forced her to realize certain truths about herself she'd always been able to evade. And to make matters even worse, there was no one in whom she could confide. As cynical as her dear friend Joyce had become lately, even she would be shocked to hear of her sorority-sister's lascivious discontent, which Linda thought she might somehow be able to impart to the woman without having to mention Brad.
She tried to concentrate on bridge-clubs and luncheons and somehow fill her life once more with the demands of her children. However, their old nurse Flora was doing a splendid job of taking care of the baby, and Janice and Larry were now involved in their full-time pursuits of school, homework and television.
For want of a more vital distraction, Linda actually found herself attending the Great Books Discussion Group which she'd mentioned to David. But it was after only two dismal sessions that she knew emphatically what she had to do-and, perhaps, had known it all along. She should have realized that in situations like these it's always the man who holds the upper hand, with the woman's position as low and menial as that of any slave. Especially when the man in question is as free and callous an agent as Brad Grogan.
She drove to a nearby phone-booth one afternoon and called him at work, after first stopping for a potent cocktail to whip up the courage.
"Well, if it isn't the assaulted and outraged Mrs. David Fortune," said Brad. "How come you haven't had the FBI on my tail by now… it's been weeks…"
"Brad, for once in your life…"
"What would the charge be, by the way, Salutary Rape?"
"Now listen, this is your business-phone, Brad, so I really think you should watch your language. I'm calling about that… I mean, I've been giving a great deal of thought to that station-wagon…"
"I'll bet you have!"
"… and perhaps we should be thinking of getting a new one. Could you… possibly show me one like it?"
She heard his soft, low chuckle. "All right, Linda, I'll play the game. Yes, Madam, I could show you our very latest model."
"Fine," she said crisply. "Where's the best place to meet?"
"My apartment." He gave her the address. "Of course, it's a little small to hold a station-wagon, but I can let you see my samples. How about tonight at seven-thirty?"
"No, we'll have to make it tomorrow," she told him. Tonight was one of David's rare nights at home, and Linda felt that the least she could do was keep the dear soul company. And besides, tomorrow she was due to attend one of her Great Books meetings, and it was also one of David's class-night. Hadn't they planned this together, the dual-attempt to add culture to their lives? Oh God, she felt like such a traitor… cuckolding that sweet, sensitive boy, and with his very best friend! But what else was she to do? She couldn't very well go out and scrape a stranger off the streets, just to preserve old loyalties. And, at any rate, it was mainly because of David's unswerving faith in her that he would never suspect her of this betrayal. He was a poet-husband of the old school and saw only the good in her. There need be no overt reasons for this pattern to change-if she was careful.
The next afternoon Brad gave her a brief call to confirm their date for that night.
After first making sure none of the servants were listening on an extension, Linda murmured: "Yes, I'll be there, Brad. Why? Has something come up?"
"Yes, Linda. But it's something that means we'll have a lot more fun than you expected."
"Explain that, please," she said testily. "And discreetly, if you don't mind."
"All right. A three-way traffic tie-up, Linda, how's that sound?"
She was silent and confused for a second. "I don't follow you…"
"Three in the driver's seat, Linda. One more chauffeur than we expected. I've been trying that a lot lately, and it's wild…"
Linda's heart started pounding, and she knew this proposition was out of the question, but wondered why in heaven's name she wasn't telling him that. "Who is it, Brad… anyone I know?"
He laughed. "Now why don't you take a gamble and wait until you get here before you find that out?"
"No, no, Brad. Forget it."
"Oh hell, Linda, that's exactly why you'll be here right on time-am I right?"
She hung up. That smug, complacent bastard! So positive he knew everything that would excite and disturb her. Well, she'd show him how very little she needed all those thug-delights he offered… and if need be she'd take reverse hormone-shots just to keep herself neat and self-sufficient and away from him!
And that evening, after seeing that the children were fed and put to bed, Linda allowed a full hour to dress and apply her make-up. A third party to join them! Would it be a stranger or an old acquaintance? Oh… what matter, as long as the rampaging Brad Grogan was part of the charade, and as long as it was fresh and untried flesh despoiling hers? But dear God, how she detested that man… a hatred and repugnance that remained very dear to her heart as she showered and sprayed for him.
Linda arrived at Brad's apartment that night looking almost too sleek and impeccable in a black Matte jersey body-dress with tight long sleeves, although this chic ensemble did absolutely nothing to flatten her billowing bustline. She found Brad alone, and he fixed the door so their friend would have no trouble entering later in case they were already indisposed. Despite her insistent questions, he refused to disclose the identity of their guest, although he assured her this extra added ingredient was due any minute.
"Ahh, but look at you, Linda, the average housewife making her first average house-call," he chided her, looking raunchier than ever in a chest-tight white T-shirt and bulging dungarees. After taking her hat, he watched as she primped nervously in the mirror, stealing up behind her and lazily running a big hand up and down her bodice. "Ummm, you've got those babies packed so tight, I may have to set off a little bomb to get at them. But first I'll have to light your little wick, won't I, honey?"
Linda cringed at his words and his touch, feeling both revolted and excited by his casual acceptance of her desire for him. "I… I really don't know what I'm doing here," she said, moving aimlessly about his apartment, pretending to study the shoddy decor and pictures. "I'm acting against my own better judgment, and that's something I've never done before in my life."