Carol sat dejectedly on the living room couch staring thoughtfully into a martini glass. Her head whirled from the second one she had drunk since returning from her visit to Jean across the street. She hadn't intended to go over and encourage the friendship, but with the way things had gone between her and Bob since her return from her mother's, she just had to get out of the house and talk to someone. Jean hadn't helped much. All they had done was sip on coffee and cognac the entire hour she was there.
She had become lightheaded from her inexperience in drinking and had started several times to tell her about the strange change that had come over her husband the last few days, but each time had caught herself and stopped. It was too embarrassing. Just how did one go about telling a new friend that she had found lipstick on her husband's shirt when she had sent the clothes to the laundry the other day? Even if she had known Jean for years it would have been difficult enough to confide that much in her but a friend of one week was just impossible. She had felt so low and miserable that she just had to talk to someone though and had put up with the small talk for an hour and then made her excuses to leave. She did find that the cognac had helped to cheer her up, even if only superficially, and had mixed up a pitcher of martinis when she had arrived home to keep the glow going.
Perhaps it had been a mistake, she thought, as she felt them taking hold but she needed it. Damn it, if Bob couldn't take her to his business cocktail parties with him then she could stay home and get smashed. She felt like it tonight and that's just what she was going to do.
She just couldn't understand this party he had to go to. He had been so evasive about it and wouldn't even tell her where it was. He had just told her not to wait up for him and left. Of course, she hadn't made much of a fuss about it. Her pride wouldn't let her. She had not said anything to him about the shirt either. She just didn't know how to go about it after being so happily married to him for the past three years and then all of a sudden, out of nowhere, something like this coming up. It had never happened before and she just hadn't been able to get up the courage to approach him with the evidence. Of course, she had tried to rationalize it away blaming it on everything conceivable such as, he bumped into a girl at the bank, or something like that, but it hadn't worked. The seed of suspicion had been planted and it had festered in her mind for the last two days. There was definitely something wrong but she just couldn't put her finger on it.
There had been other more subtle changes too. He had tried to do some awful things to her last night when they were making love and had tried to make her return them. Things she had heard about but didn't really know normal people did. They were perverted acts and were things people only whispered about in dirty jokes or something like that. He had become angry with her when she had refused to let him do those perverse acts to her and angrier still when she had refused to do them to him. It wasn't that she hadn't tried. God knows she wanted to keep him a happy husband as she thought he always had been but she just couldn't force herself to go through with them. The thought of that horrible scene in the bedroom when he had tried to push her head down under the covers and the coldness with which he had treated her afterwards when she had refused to do it brought tears brimming to her eyes. She wiped them carefully with the corner of the handkerchief she held clenched tightly in her hand and took another heavy gulp of the martini, wincing slightly as it burned its way down her throat.
Still, in spite of all of that, tonight his mysterious party was the crowning blow. She wasn't even really convinced that there was a party. He had been so non-committal and all about it and had murmured some half-way understandable story about it being necessary for his accounts at the bank that she had begun to doubt it. He couldn't even tell her what time he would be home. In fact, he was so vague about the whole thing, that she had convinced herself he was using it just as an excuse to see another woman. The one, undoubtedly, he was out with the other night while she was visiting her mother. There could just be no other explanation. That was what it had to be.
She finished the last drop of the martini and reached forward for the pitcher on the coffee table and poured herself another.
Her mind ran to another thing also that may have caused his sudden indifference but she dismissed it as too silly to even consider. This had been his insistence last Monday that she put off her trip to her mother's for one day and go out to dinner with him and their next-door neighbor's. He had mentioned something about him being one of the most important accounts in the country and how much it had meant to him to make a good impression but she hadn't been able to forget Jean's warning about that man Burns out of her mind. Of course, she hadn't been able to explain that to Bob. He would have thought she was absolutely ridiculous, which was probably true, but still she was frightened of what Jean had said about him. There was no telling what could happen in a closed neighborhood like this if a woman weren't careful and if what Jean said were true, which was highly unlikely, then she was sure the best thing was to just stay as far away from him as possible. She wished she could have made Bob understand this but she couldn't. The only thing she could do was insist that she make the trip to her mother's which wasn't a good excuse at all, but unfortunately, the only one she had.
Well, she murmured to herself, whatever the reason, it still didn't justify that.
Carol dropped her head into her hands and tears began to brim to the corners of her eyes. Things had seemed to be going so well for them with Bob's new job and all and now this had to happen. She just couldn't understand it-why did the world have to be so terrible sometimes? She had to talk to him about it the first thing tomorrow morning or she would go out of her mind.
Her sobs suddenly ceased abruptly. The doorbell was ringing. Good Lord, she thought through the slight daze of the martinis, who could it be at this time of the evening? It must be after eight o'clock. Her next thought was of Bob.
Maybe he had changed his mind!
Maybe he had relented and was coming home to be with her. She pulled the robe she had changed into tight around her breasts and almost ran toward the door.
She jerked it open excitedly, hoping with all her heart to see him standing there. Her smile suddenly faded.
It was Harry Burns.
"Good evening, Mrs. Benson," he bowed slightly, a serious expression on his face. "I'd like to talk to you for a minute if I may. It's very important."
Carol stood struck-dumb for a moment at the sudden surprise and then drew the robe tighter around her.
"C-Can't it wait until tomorrow?" she finally managed to stammer.
"No, it can't. It's something that concerns the both of us – and," he added after a short pause, "your husband and my wife."
"W-What do you mean by that?"
"I mean some things have been going on between them that I think you should know about."
"B-But that's impossible," she stammered, her face flushing at the sudden revelation. The thought of the lipstick shirt pierced her mind like a bolt of lightening.
"I've got the proof right here," he said, holding up the small tape recorder he carried in his hand. "There's just no doubt about it. May I come in for a moment and play it for you? It's something you should hear."
Carol was too shocked by his reference to Bob and his wife to refuse anything and let the door slide unresisting from her hand as he pushed past her into the hallway. She hesitantly closed it behind him and led him into the living room.
A thought suddenly occurred to her. "How did you get that recording?" she asked.
"By accident," he explained. "I have one of these portable briefcase recorders that I use in my business to take down conferences and I left it home Monday night when I had to go away unexpectedly. It activates itself automatically when someone speaks or makes a noise in a room. That avoids the problems of forgetting to turn it on or off."
"Then, please sit down," she motioned nervously to a chair.
"May I have one?" he pointed to the still half full pitcher of martinis sitting on the coffee table.
"Yes, but please hurry with what you have. I do have a lot of work to do," she said, remembering Jean's warning about him. If it hadn't been for the things that had happened the last few days she wouldn't even have let him in the door but now she had to hear him out. She was so confused she didn't know which way to turn.
"I think you had better have one too, Mrs. Benson," he suggested. "What I have on this recorder isn't going to be easy to hear."
"No, I don't need one, Mr. Burns," she said, reflecting as cool a tone in her voice as she could muster under the circumstances. "I don't know what you have, or at least think you have, but I have no reason to doubt the fidelity of my husband in the slightest. Now if you'll just go ahead with what you have to say, I'll show you the door and I can get back to my work."
"Well," he gave a half smile, his eyes falling to a knee that protruded inadvertently from her robe. "I don't really have anything to say. This little baby'll do all the talking."
Harry Burns patted the recorder in his lap and took a deep sip from the martini, letting his eyes wander over the slim, well-rounded body on the couch before him. He could see that something was wrong with her and he was purposely taking his time. He wanted to enjoy to the fullest the final moment when he would switch on the tape and this little innocent, hard-to-get bitch would break into a thousand pieces like a delicate Chinese vase being smashed to the floor. This was his greatest enjoyment in life. He could have all the women he wanted, good women with the money he had. But, to take a proud young thing like this and bend her completely to his will, that was worthwhile. That gave him his kicks, watching their slow subjugation in spite of all the moral values and principles they had built up over the whole of their lives. Seeing all that crumble in one mighty cataclysmic fall when he rammed his hard cock deep between their wide-spread legs, that was a kick that was worth working for and one that couldn't be bought. It might take money to set it up as it had now but it was all worth that one final humiliating lunge into their pussy that they had taken so much pride in protecting all their lives. He would enjoy this one more than most. He could see the contempt she held for him in her eyes and nothing would please him more than watching it changing slowly to a glassy-eyed helpless desire as he ground his cock deep in that white little belly of hers. And, he thought greedily, if he could make her beg for it then so much the better. Yes, he was going to enjoy this one more than he had most. He would make damn certain her husband had a grandstand seat for the de-innocentizing too. That would add a lot to the pleasure of ramming it to her.
"Well Mr. Burns, I'm waiting." Carol mustered her courage. She held an outward calm now by sheer force of will, but deep inside, her stomach was churning like a whirlpool. She just couldn't believe what he had said about Bob and his wife was true, and yet, there was fear in her heart that it was. His strange actions of the last few days told her something was wrong, and yet, she wanted with all her heart and soul for it not to be true.
There was only one way she could find out.
"I suggest you take a martini. It isn't going to be pleasant," he urged again, "I think it might make it easier for you."
"Alright," she weakened for a moment, afraid that if what he had said was right, she just might go to pieces. "Just a small one."
He placed the recorder on the table and poured her glass full in spite of her request for a small one.
"You'll need all of it. This gets pretty rough so take your drink and sit back against the couch. I don't want you falling off."
Carol picked up the drink from the table and nervously took a small sip. She didn't have the slightest idea what to expect from this. Particularly something on a recorder. She held her breath as she watched him lean forward and switch the small machine on.
"I've left out the first part." he explained. "This is what I'm certain you'll be most interested in."
There was nothing for a moment and then she could hear the rustling of people moving around in the background along with the standard hums and buzzes of all recording machines. There was a long moment when there was nothing and then a woman's voice broke through: