"Where are you going now honey?" Rod Baxter asked his wife on Saturday morning, taking a sip of coffee as he waited for her to answer.
"How did you know I was going out?" Sally said, surprised.
"Because you always scurry around when you're getting ready to go somewhere."
Sally marveled at her husband's uncanny perceptiveness. He was a sharp-witted lawyer, and his observation was exactly right. She had been clearing the dishes from the breakfast table rather hurriedly, and she was going in town today for a special reason.
"It's a surprise, I can't tell you," she said cheerfully.
At that, Rod ducked behind his newspaper and took another sip of coffee. Either his young wife was a very good liar or she was telling the truth. For a month now she had been doing an awful lot of going out, and he was determined to find out what was behind it all. For sometime in fact he had frankly suspected her of having an affair. After all, she was an attractive young woman still in her early twenties, and he was almost forty. She wouldn't be the first young wife to find herself a boy friend while hubby was working.
But still, Rod thought to himself, the evidence did not add up. The private detective he had hired so far could not report anything on her.
According to Nestor Burns, she simply took long rides outside town in the sports car. It seemed as though something was troubling her, although Rod would be damned if he could figure out what it was. As far as he could remember they had had only one serious argument, and that had occurred a month ago. Rod had returned from work after winning an important case, and they had gone to a fancy restaurant in downtown Philadelphia to celebrate. After returning home they headed immediately upstairs to bed.
He could not remember ever desiring his voluptuous young wife's body so ardently as that night, and in the beginning she had seemed willing enough to accommodate him. But as they undressed, something strange had happened.
"I want your body tonight," he said, playfully at first. "All of it. I want you to take your panties off for a change. Don't be shy."
"Not my panties," she had protested, but cheerfully enough.
If it weren't for the drinks he had consumed that night, Rod would have let well enough alone. In the two years they had been married she had always insisted on keeping her panties on in bed, but yet she had always been willing to give him what he wanted. That night, though, he had been too insistent, and he could recall almost everything that happened… later.
He remembered how playfully his arms circled around her slender waist as she stood in front of the dresser and how his thumbs hooked into the tight elastic waistband of her little white panties. With a sudden rough force he jerked down on them, yanking them clear of her violently wrenching buttocks. He could never have dreamed her reaction would be so furious. A sudden piercing scream escaped from her lips and she pushed him away fiercely.
"Get out of here," she screamed, her face livid with rage. Tears were welling up inside her eyes. "I don't ever want you to touch my panties again." That had done it, she had ruined his whole night for him.
All along he had known of her secret hang up involving panties, but had never realized the depth of it until that night. Since the early days of their marriage he had been willing to excuse it, and in fact, he had even enjoyed it, because it was like an exciting strip tease with the flimsy piece of silk always the last tantalizing barrier between him and the secret treasure of her loins. It was sexy in the same way a scantily clad woman is always more attractive than a completely naked female.
Things still didn't add up, though. How could there be any connection between her panty hang up and the fact that she spent afternoons riding around in the Jaguar? He was beginning to regret that he had been so suspicious in the first place, and now his mind drifted back to reality…
The newsprint in front of him blurred until he realized he had been reading the same column for ten minutes. Sally's soft hands squeezed his shoulders.
"Now you be good today and just relax. When I come back I'm going to have a nice surprise for you." She bent forward and kissed him tenderly on the cheek.
"That's my girl," he said, and as she left the kitchen in her light blue spring dress he felt terribly guilty. How could he have suspected her of having an affair. If only there were some way he could make it up to her…
A half hour later the long Jaguar lurched out of the Baxter driveway in the direction of downtown Philadelphia. As Sally guided it along the winding tree-shaded suburban street, she could feel pangs of guilt lancing her mind. Why, why had she ever let herself get so carried away with those young boys? There must be some other way of freeing herself from the horrible tension that constantly seized her… if only she knew what it was.
It was a sickness, she kept telling herself over and over again as the Jaguar picked up speed. Ever since her uncle had tried to rape her she had wanted to tease and torment every male she came across by suggestively exposing her panties. She could not help herself, and now the only thing she could do in repentance was to show her love for Rod. It would only be a small, insignificant gesture, an inadequate one, but she had heard him complaining the other day that he wanted to buy some new shirts. The least she could do was to buy them for him as a gift he would appreciate, and it was for this reason that she was heading in town.
As Sally glanced in the rear view mirror she noticed for the first time a battered old black Plymouth and the seedy-looking driver behind the wheel. An unconscious warning signal flashed through her mind. Had she seen that car somewhere before? Was someone following her? No, it couldn't be, she thought. After all, this was the main highway leading into Philadelphia. Any number of people would be taking it. She glanced at her watch. It was almost eleven.
By two in the afternoon, Nestor Burns' feet were killing him. He had yanked down his glossy striped tie, undone the first two buttons of his shirt and mopped the sweat from his brow. Perspiration was soaking his armpits, and his feet felt as though they were going to burst through his shoes. This was the kind of job he hated… following a dame while she went shopping. They could never make up their minds!
So far the Baxter woman had pranced in and out of at least six exclusive men's stores. She had walked all over downtown Philadelphia with him following her everywhere. The only thing that kept Burns going was the thought of the big payoff involved, and he was moving closer to it every second. The minute Sally Baxter returned to the parking garage he was going to make his move.
Sally's feet were killing her too as she hurried along Market Street toward the parking garage with her shopping cartons weighing down on her arms. Half the things she had bought for Rod could have been delivered, but she was anxious to surprise him tonight and couldn't bear the thought of waiting for days.
She did not notice the heavy-set man in the blue suit trailing behind her for the simple reason that the streets were crowded with afternoon shoppers, almost shoulder to shoulder. She did not notice him until the attendant in the parking lot held open the door to the Jaguar and she climbed inside.
Up front, a large black car – a Plymouth stood blocking the exit. She honked her horn irritably until she realized she had seen it somewhere before. Yes, she thought to herself, it was the car that followed her on the expressway into Philadelphia.
The driver, who had climbed out, was walking toward her and he was leaning forward into her open window, his sweating, puffy face only inches away from hers.
"Mrs. Baxter, is it?"
"Y-yes," Sally replied hesitantly. Who was he anyway and what did he want with her, she wondered.
"I have something that might interest you," he announced importantly, enjoying the look of sudden fear that had seized her face.
"What do you mean?" she protested. "I don't even know you."
"Yes, but I know you," he said without a trace of fear or embarrassment in his confident voice. His cold glassy eyes fixed on her.
"I wish you would move your car, it's blocking my exit," she snapped, desperately trying to keep her composure.
"I know some of your friends," he continued casually. "Some young boys. They like to play baseball. And it seems there's a certain woman who likes to watch them… I have some interesting baseball movies I'd like you to see…"
Sally's heart suddenly jumped into her throat, and a cold clammy sweat broke out on her palms. Her hands trembled with fear. Who was this strange overbearing man? And how did he know about the young boys?
"Don't worry, I'm not with the police, although I have a lot of friends who are cops. I'm only interested in one thing… money. I want you to follow me. You'll be perfectly safe."
For a long moment Sally sat immobilized with fear, her mind a whirl of confusion. Somehow this man had discovered her secret. It was impossible for him to be lying. He knew what she had done.
"Hey, let's go you two!" A garage attendant suddenly yelled.
"Follow me," Burns commanded sternly, and without a further moment of hesitation he retreated from her window and headed for the black Plymouth. Its engine gunned, and the car lurched forward out into the street.
Numbed and confused, Sally Baxter obeyed Burns' command automatically. She shifted the powerful Jaguar into gear and eased out behind his car.
Unconsciously, she had always known it would happen this way. She had been exposing her panties to young boys for years now, and she knew deep inside that she was bound to be caught one day. But the realization did little to calm her. Her entire body trembled with fear. It had finally happened. She was trapped.