The next morning brought rain and Tom sat at the kitchen table, a cup of cold coffee in front of him. Beside it was an ashtray. Full.
Janet stopped short in the doorway of the kitchen. She'd awakened filled with remorse and guilt – and worry. There was no sign that Tom had come home at all after he'd left the house in such furious haste the night before.
"We have to talk, Janet," he said, speaking td the cold coffee and cigarette butts.
She entered the kitchen, a vision of chestnut brown hair, warm flesh tones and blue nylon dressing robe. Beneath the robe she wore only panties. Her large breasts bobbled in reminder of the delights he'd too long neglected.
And she looked good, edible, flushed with her womanhood. Seeing her attitude, despite the regrets in her face and eyes, Tom couldn't help but know that what he'd feared had indeed transpired and that she looked the better for the wear.
She sat across the table from him, eyes sorrowful, nipples pointed at him.
He lit another cigarette. The silence stretched out.
"Tom," she finally said unsurely, and then the words tumbled out in a rush. "Tom, last night I…"
"No!" He silenced her. He shook his head. "No, don't say anything. It didn't happen." He took a deep breath.
"What…" He stopped, thought. "We've both made mistakes and I've been at the root of most of them."
"But I want you to know that…"
"And I think we'd better be a little bit more attentive to one another's wishes and needs. I'm willing to try." He said the last with an almost hopeful note, one that left the rest of the phrase hanging unsaid, unnecessary for words.
A single tear rolled down Janet's soft cheeks. She nodded and said, "All right," in a voice that caught on sadness in her lovely throat.
Janet dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and composed her features. Then she stood. "You better get dressed and cleaned up for work. I'll start the breakfast."
Tom stood and got ready for work and was nearly trampled by his daughter as she ran down the stairs. "Good morning, Daddy," she said with considerably more cheer than the morning deserved. Penny gave his stubbled chin and night-worn clothes a quick look of puzzlement, then shrugged and hurried on down into the kitchen.
He arrived at work early. In his mind, he had been devising the ways in which he would solve his problems – financial and marital – as he rode the train.
He was the first one in the office and the unaccustomed quiet of the floor only heightened the sense of unnatural clarity in his sleepless mind.
Allison stepped into his office at eight-fifteen, then froze when she discovered him already seated at his desk. Tom got up casually and then let his eyes sweep over her. For the first time since she'd come to work for him, she was dressed to kill. Black micro-skirt, high heels, hair long and flowing, and an almost transparent top which did nothing at all to conceal her ruby-tipped breasts moving tautly within.
He forced the thoughts from his mind. He had, after all, resolved to turn over a new leaf. And it had to start somewhere. It will start here, he declared to himself nobly.
"Well, good morning, Mr. Jamison," Allison said. She walked round behind the desk and stood beside him so that her nipples returned his stare.
"Good morning, Allison," he said. "Please get my coffee immediately." He kept her away from him throughout most of the morning.
At noon, the call came. "Mr. Jamison, I am a representative of a gentleman who lent you a considerable sum of money," announced the coolly businesslike voice. "He suggested that I call and remind you that the first installment is due back in his hands the day after tomorrow."
Tom thanked the man for the reminder and assured him that he saw no difficulty in meeting the payment schedule.
His hands shook as he lit his cigarette. They were almost eager to have him blow it.
Twenty minutes later, Gilson showed up.
"Howdy," said the big Texan. Tom had gone out into the reception area to meet the potential customer and found Gilson eyeing Allison with considerable interest.
Tom brought Gilson back into his office. "That's a sleek young filly out there," Gilson said when the door was closed. "Never expected you city fellas went in for breaking, but with fillies like that around, any man becomes a cowpuncher."
Tom went along with the crude joke, then asked, "When did you get back in town?"
Gilson grinned. "About an hour ago. Have a few things to clean up this afternoon, and I thought I'd stop by and see what you've got going." He hooked one thumb over his shoulder, indicating the door to the reception area – and Allison. "And I see you've got a good thing going."
Jamison shook his head. "Now, let's not get carried away. Allison is a fine-looking young woman, all right, but if you'd met my wife…" He grinned right back at Gilson. And then, inspiration struck. "Tell me something. How long has it been since you had a home-cooked meal?"
Gilson thought for a moment. "Hell of a long time," he said finally.
"Well, then, if you don't have any plans yet for this evening, why don't you come out to my place and have dinner with my wife and I."
"You know something, buddy, that sounds like a right fine idea, right fine indeed." But then Gilson's face grew uncertain. "On the other hand, since you don't have any riding sessions with that young filly, I was sort of considering asking her to make a night on the town with me."
Tom smiled. "I think," he said, hitting the intercom button, "that Allison would probably be able to make it out to my place herself."
Allison was not enthusiastic about the prospect of visiting the Jamison household – and Janet – but Tom couched the invitation in language that made the message clear – if you ever want to get beyond that office out there, you'd better accept the invitation.
She accepted.
It was agreed that Tom would bring them up to his place that afternoon at five, and Gilson made a point, before leaving, of mentioning that it looked like the Gilson chain was just about ripe to make the jump into tires.
For the rest of the day, Allison was rather curt and distant from Tom Jamison. But that was okay with him because, at half-past one, he'd spoken to his wife on the phone. And when Janet Jamison got over her initial disgruntlement at the sudden imposition, she realized that Tom was breaking off whatever relationship he had once enjoyed with his secretary.
At four-thirty, Tom left the office and went over to a car rental office to get their transportation for the evening. Then he picked up Gilson at his hotel and went back to the office to pick up Allison.
The three of them sat scrunched together in the front seat of the Mercury, with Allison in the middle. Gilson had draped one arm over her shoulders and his hand was moving in a continuous rubbing over her upper arm.
Tom finally wheeled the big car into the driveway and beeped the horn twice, lightly. The three of them piled out of the car, welcoming the chance to stretch their legs after the torturous battle with afternoon rush hour traffic out of New York.
Janet still hadn't made her appearance, so Tom led his guests into the house. "Honey!" he called. "We're here."
"I'll be down in ten minutes," her voice answered from the second floor.
Tom showed the two around the house. Gilson had his arm about Allison's waist, and from time to time, one paw slipped down to her lithe ass cheeks, to lightly caress and shape them though her micro-skirt. Each time he did it, Allison gave Gilson a definitely come-hither smile and Tom could nearly picture the stallion pawing at the earth in front of the willing mare.
They were on the patio in back, where Gilson was noting, with approval, the prime cut steaks Janet had laid out under lucite covers beside the barbecue, when Tom's wife finally made her appearance.
She was dressed to kill.
She wore a matched two-piece outfit. The halter top was cut deeply and if the plunge went any deeper, it would have been two pieces of cloth. Her marvelous tits, swelling and firm and ripe and beautifully curved, thrust out beneath the tightly stretched fabric. Her hair, loose and flowing, cascaded down over her all but bare shoulders, concealing the two thin straps.
Her flawlessly tanned midriff was flat and well exposed between the flimsy halter top and the low-cut, hip hugging, hot short bottoms. The shorts looked as though they were painted on. They revealed every detail of her lower torso right down to the aggressive thrust of her pubic and the soft spread of her pussy lips.
Her long, smooth, shapely legs moved gracefully. The only thing needed to complete the picture was the fact that she was barefoot, and somehow looked the more earthy for it.
"Hello," his wife said, voice throaty and demure at the same time, luscious, full lips parting in a soft smile, dark eyes moving from one, to the other of the trio standing before her.
Allison was a skinny little girl by comparison. Tom just gaped and asked himself when he'd lost his mind that he'd neglected his wife for so long.
Gilson looked as if he were going to jump on her at any moment.
"Why, you must be Tom's receptionist," Janet said sweetly, approaching Allison.
Allison took the slight in stride. "Yes," she said sighing and turning longing eyes on Tom. "I'm the woman he spends all that time with each day. It's so nice to meet you. All of you."
"The pleasure is mine," Janet said smoothly. "Tom talks about you constantly and I've been dying to get you out here to the country so we could put a little meat on your bones." Janet sucked in a deep breath and her breasts heaved outward, testing the restraining power of the halter.
Gilson's eyes looked about ready to pop.
"This is Mr. Gilson," Tom said quickly, before Allison could reply.
Janet approached the big man and smiled up at him. "A treat to have you here, Mr. Gilson."
"Ed, please."
"And you'll call me Janet."
"I'll call you beautiful."
Janet dimpled. Tom was madder than hell. Allison's claws looked ready. Tom could just about see her ears being laid back in a feline snarl.
Tom made his wife a drink while Gilson immediately engrossed her conversationally. Allison sidled over. "I'm surprised you have anything left in the morning," she said quietly. "After a night with her."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning she moves fast," Allison said, nodding towards Gilson and Janet. The two were seated on the sectional sofa, leaning towards each other with their heads close together. Tom could see that Gilson was enjoying the view down the front of his wife's top and as he watched, the two erupted in lewd laughter.
Tom found Allison's eyes bemused when he turned back to her. He forced himself to calmness and shrugged as if his wife's friendliness towards Gilson was unimportant.
Drinks made, he rejoined them and was every bit as charming and smooth as he could ever hope to be, completely masking his inner unease.
Gilson sat next to Janet at the patio table, and Tom suspected, from the movements of Gilson's upper arm, that the tall Texan was feeling up his wife's leg. The suspicion was only reinforced by the shared secret smiles she flashed at Gilson from time to time.
As they ate dinner Tom felt the touch of soft fingers on his own thigh. Allison's.
Calmly, he glanced towards her. Without turning, Allison let a faint smile cross her face, tilting the corner of her mouth upward.
Tom did nothing to stop her roaming hand.
As they rested back, tasting their ice cream with creme de menthe, the conversation began to swing back towards business. And as the dessert disappeared and then Janet began serving drinks, Gilson's eyes followed Tom's wife at exactly the same time as he let his misgivings about the deal Tom had proposed slip into his words.
Tom was getting the message.
It was nearly eight-thirty when they finally moved indoors. Gallantly, Gilson offered Janet his arm. His anger increasing at Janet's welcoming of Gilson's attentions and touches, Tom spitefully offered his arm to Allison.
Nevertheless, he barely resisted the urge to turn and see what Gilson was doing to his wife as they led the way into the house.
Tom mixed some more drinks for the group, hearing the first dribble of rain on the roof. By the time he was putting the second round together; the dribble had become a downpour and a thunderstorm's rumblings had begun.
Janet came into the kitchen as he opened the freezer door and took out some crushed ice. "Tom," she said urgently, hand familiarly on his arm. "Tom, there's a problem."
"Oh?" He closed the freezer door with a negligent elbow.
"Gilson, he keeps feeling me up."
Tom hesitated and gave her a hard look. "I haven't seen you objecting to it." He turned back to the drinks.
"Tom, he wants to-to…"
"To fuck you?" She nodded rapidly. Tom shrugged.
"Tom!"
"What?" he shot back irritably.
"Tom, what am I going to do?"
He gave her a bitter, cynical smile. "What do you want to do?"
She frowned. "Tom, I've put up with him and gone along this far because I know how important this account is to you. But now he seems to be hinting that if I don't let him… you know…"
"Fuck you."
"Yes," she said, wincing. "If I don't let him, he's going to forget about the account."
Tom picked up the tray full of drinks and started for the kitchen door. "Janet," he said tiredly, "you do whatever you want to do."
She followed him into the living room a minute later, her face cheerful, but her eyes filled with the same determination Tom had seen there the night of the card game with Koenig.
"Hospitable of you, Tom, mighty hospitable. I sure do appreciate it," Gilson was saying.
"Then it's settled," Tom announced. "Allison and you will stay the night here."
"Where will we put them?" Janet asked sweetly. Tom gave her a knowing look. "Gilson in the guest room, me on the convertible in the living room, here, and you and Allison in our bedroom."
They made small talk for a while. At ten-thirty, Penny returned from her night at the movies. Tom introduced his daughter to their two guests. He couldn't help but note how Gilson's eyes glinted as they followed the movements of his daughter's delightful little ass within her too-tight jeans and the way Gilson's gaze kept flickering to Penny's perfectly formed, firm young breasts. They were clearly exhibited beneath her rain-soaked T-shirt, and the nipples were stiffened from the dampness. Tom found his own eyes following his daughter's nubile form as well. She was growing up to be an enchanting young woman.
At eleven, they began breaking up the group for bed. Allison went with Janet to be fitted for night-clothes while Tom showed Gilson to the guest bedroom and prepared the bed linen. Then he went back out and made up the convertible.
Surprisingly, sleep came quickly.