Dianne was grateful for the shelves of books that lined Mark's study. She had always been an avid reader. Not that absorbing books could fill the void in her lonesome, love-starved new life, but it did help pass the time, and by reading and glancing through the dusty volumes she felt that somehow she was gaining a closer insight into the mysterious aura surrounding her ruthless, ambitious husband. Perhaps, if she learned everything she could about the family background she would not only better understand him, but might well be able to reach him and make him know that she truly, loved him.
It was a feeble approach to solving her problem, she realized as she sat on the shaded, side-patio with the elegantly bound book in her lap, but at least it gave her the feeling of doing something in that direction.
OLD FAMILIES OF RIO LADO was embossed in gold lettering across the cover of the book. She had first browsed through its entire contents, then gone back to read the Coleman history, gleaning little that pertained to Mark except the mention of his birth. Yet, there was something in the short genealogy that bothered her. Undoubtedly, the book had been published before Mark's parents' accident for no mention was made of that.
Mathew Coleman had been the original member to settle in Rio Lado around the year 1870. The mansion was built some decade later. He'd been Mark's grandfather, thirty years old at the time, but no wife was mentioned as having arrived in the area with him. He had come from a small family of Irish immigrants, it went on, the son of Paddy and Molly Coleman of Dublin, Ireland, had one brother Sean, and two sisters, Mary and Kate. Besides being an attorney, the original Coleman had homesteaded vast parcels of land and had later entered into the feed and grain business. At 37, a son, Timothy was born to Mathew and Catherine Coleman. Three years later, Mathew was elected to the state senate.
The vast holdings had passed on to Timothy at his father's demise, a young man whose interests had been strongly political. Although he had practiced law, he soon disposed of the grain business and devoted most of his time to politics, becoming one of the youngest senators in the history of the state. Timothy was thirty-six when he married Helen Freemont of Sacramento, and their only son, Mark, was born in 1935.
There was more, but of little importance and Dianne had gotten nothing but a cold empty feeling from reading it, as if she had just walked through a damp, ghost-filled mausoleum. She closed the book and looked up to see Mark coming through the doorway, a broad smile lighting his handsome face.
His greeting was an unexpected delight; he walked over to where she sat, bent down, and kissed her on the cheek… the first time ever.
"And how's my girl?" he said warmly.
The move had startled her so that she reached up and touched the spot where his lips had been with her fingertips. Then, she felt her face flush, like a schoolgirl receiving her first kiss.
"Wh-What was that all about?" she heard herself stammer.
"Good heavens, woman," Mark laughed. "Can't a man greet his wife with a kiss without explaining his reasons?"
Dianne returned his smile with one of her own. "Of course," she replied, looking closer to see if he was drunk. "Just any old time he wants."
"Good," he said. "And no, I'm not drunk. Had a few but, I've all my wits… just happy, Darling. That's all. Exceptionally happy."
"Things went well, then…? I mean, you were hoping to solicit support…"
He stepped back and with hands on hips, still smiling, looked off across the well-kept lawns with a certain underlying proudness. "Yes… I'm quite certain of it. In fact, Darling, I believe I've secured the support… of Judge Julian Reed… If so, it's all a cinch, I'm as good as in office."
"Oh…?" Dianne said. She knew of Judge Reed and his power from working in Mark's office, but she had never seen him, nor heard anything good about him, only that he wielded massive political weight. He was retired from the bench, a widower somewhere in his late fifties, and a terribly obese man… so the story went. Anyway, she was pleased because Mark was obviously so. "When will you know, Darling? I mean, for sure…?"
"Any moment, I hope. I'm waiting now for a phone call."
Dianne stood. "Can I get you something?"
"Great idea," he said, moving over beside her and slipping his arm snugly around her slender waist, drawing her against him. "How about stirring us up a batch of martinis. About that time, isn't it?"
"Just about," she replied, unable to believe this sudden wave of open affection. "I think I'd like one myself."
She picked up her book and they entered the house together, his arm still around her as they moved into the sitting room and she started behind the bar.
"No," he said suddenly. "I'll mix the drinks and you sit down right here." He twisted one of the four stools about and helped her onto it, then, lifting her chin kissed her full on the mouth. "Mmmmmm," he muttered, "nectar for the Gods, I swear."
Dianne gaped at him. She couldn't help herself; she was that surprised and pleased. She tried to think of something to say, but there just weren't any words at her disposal that could possibly describe her sudden happiness. Instead, she simply smiled… almost simpered, as he jogged behind the bar and began to mix.
"You know, Darling, if everything comes off, and after the election while I'm waiting to take office, I think you and I should catch a bit of a honeymoon… say… Europe, maybe?"
"Mark!" she gasped, hardly daring to believe her hearing. "Do you mean it? I mean… honest…?"
"Baby!" he exclaimed, coming back around the bar and standing before her. "Of course, I mean it!"
And then, before she realized what had happened he lifted her off the stool to her feet and was holding her tight in his arms, his mouth gently covering hers, his tongue taunting her lips, seeking entry which she happily gave him, as his hands caressed and smoothed over her back, finally dropping to her round, full buttocks and drawing her loins tightly against him until she could feel his stirring penis against her belly.
She clung to him passionately, sucking gently at his tongue while her pelvis responded almost of its own volition, pressing and undulating with hardly perceptive motions against him.
Oh, wonderful God, was it possible? Had they found each other. She would go to the ends of the earth with him or for him! She loved him so…!
He raised his head and smiled at her. "You're a wonderful girl, Dianne. You won't be sorry I promise you," he whispered.
"Sorry…? Darling, I'm the happiest girl in the world! I could never be sorry…"
"Being a politician's wife isn't always easy, Baby," he said softly. "Sometimes, it calls for some tremendous sacrifices… but in the end comes the reward."
"I'd sacrifice anything for you, Mark," she whispered up at him. "Anything…"
"Anything?"
"I swear… anything."
Again, he kissed her passionately, his hands traversing over her warm soft body, gently moving up her ribs to cup and stroke her breasts, raising little uncontrollable whimpers of passion from her. Then, he said: "I may have to count on that, Darling… please, don't let me down will you?"
"Never… never! I'll never let you down, Mark, Darling…"
Suddenly, he held her from him and grinned. "Well, this isn't getting any martinis, is it."
Dianne laughed and climbed back onto her stool while he circled the bar once more. Actually, she'd rather have led him right up to bed and kept him there all evening, night and half of tomorrow proving her love, but she knew how deeply he felt his social obligations, and the damned country club affair was coming up. But, maybe she was thinking, she could entice him away early. A little sex went a long ways in getting a girl what she wanted, if she knew how to tease with it. And it seemed that at last, those Gods were going to smile down upon her. She couldn't remember when she'd felt so wonderful…
"There," he said, pouring two martinis into long-stemmed crystal. "What will we drink too?"
"Your landslide election, Darling," Dianne said, retrieving hers.
"And… our European honeymoon," he added, lifting his own.
They touched glasses just as the phone rang. Quickly, he set his down and caught up the receiver.
"Yes? This is he. Oh… Commissioner. What's that? Dinner? We'd be honored. Let's say… eightish? Fine. Pardon…?" Mark laughed. "Don't worry, Commissioner, I'm not about to forget that… A deal is a deal. Of course. Right. Okay… 'bye."
Dianne waited, watching him turn slowly to face her, his handsome smile broadening. He chuckled, almost inaudibly. "That's it, Darling… the call I've been waiting for. The good Judge… he's backing me."
"Oh, Darling, wonderful!" Dianne said, leaning over the bar to be kissed.
He did. "We're having dinner with A.C. Faro tonight at the club. He's Judge Reed's top man, you know, and now my campaign manager." He came around the bar, stood before her putting his hands on her arms. "Now, come all the tests, Darling… the chance for you to prove everything you've told me the last few minutes."
Dianne's head tilted somewhat in bewilderment. She half-smiled. "I-I'm afraid I'm a bit dense, Mark. You'll have to be more explanatory…"
He let free of her and picked up his drink, making an idle little walk of a dozen short steps that caused her to swivel on the stool.
"Nothing hazardous," he said casually, "But a bit rattling the first time, I suppose. I mean… well, it's a big wide old ugly world sometimes, Darling… depending what you're trying to extract from it. Just as long as we both understand one another… that's all that counts…"
"Mark!" Dianne gulped suddenly.
He stopped, turned, and stared at her, his eyes level even though his smile had disappeared. "Well?" he said.
"There's… there's an unwritten rule at the club… someone told me about it… I don't remember who… But if you're asked to dinner by a couple and you accept, it means… it means you agree to swapping mates… Am… am I right? Is that what you want… of me tonight…?"
She watched the expression of his handsome face slowly harden, a white line seeming to form around his mouth, a certain coldness chilling his eyes. But he wasn't looking at her; he was staring at the book on the bar beside her.
Suddenly, he seemed to leap at it, pick it up, then slam it down loudly.
"What the hell are you doing with this?" he shot at her.
"I was reading it," she answered, her stomach abruptly quaking at his tone of voice and the vehemence in his eyes. "An ignored wife has to find something to occupy her time," she went on, sensing her own anger arousing and momentarily feeling braver for some unanswerable reason.
He slapped her face hard, jarring the drink from her hand and she heard the glass shatter as it struck the floor.
"Damn you!" he spat. "Don't ever let me hear of you poking in my study again!" "I wasn't poking, Mark…"
"Shut up and listen to me! Don't you ever go in there again, you hear me?"
Dianne couldn't believe the violence in his eyes. He was like a madman. She stared at him in utter fright. My God, what had happened so suddenly…?
"All-all right, Darling… whatever you say," she managed, shaking her head slowly. "Only… only please, don't be angry. I was just…"
"You were just poking and nosing! That's what you were doing!" he snarled. "Now, you listen to me. We're going to have dinner with the Faros. And I don't give a damn what you've heard, nor from whom. Just… just don't you do anything to upset my applecart… You understand? You understand?" He shook her violently, his hands gouging into the soft flesh of her upper arms. "Do you?"
"Y-Yes," she whispered from the pressure of his grip and the anger in his eyes.
"Goddamn you… you better!" He thrust her away, scooped up his drink, drained it, then smashed the glass on the floor. "You make one wrong move…!" He paused, swallowing tightly. "Now, go up and get dressed!"
"Mark…"
"Shut up, you hear?" I said, "go up and get dressed!"
Dianne slipped slowly from the stool, hesitantly turned her back to him and walked from the room. Good Lord, what was it? What was this horror that was destroying both of them? The first time she had walked into the Rio Country Club it was like something out of a storybook to Dianne… tonight it was similar to a horror mystery. She gazed across the table at the dark-haired, dark-eyed woman whose bewitching smile could possibly enamor a priest or saint, yet, she was far from beautiful. Just seductive, Dianne thought, as she watched the manner in which the voluptuous female maneuvered her magnificent eyes. Mark was simply becharmed… or was he bemercinary? These were the temporary Gods, she thought, and it lay in their laps. Consequently, her husband was playing at adoring.
The sight sickened her, yet, what could she do? She had not gotten over the episode of the "smashed" cocktails to this point, or even begun to try and fathom why he had flown into such a rage for her being in his study. Nothing made sense… especially her being here…
"Isn't that right, Darling?" Tonya Faro was addressing her.
"What's that?"
"I was just telling this handsome, talented husband of yours that a woman is worthless to her man unless she helps him further his career." She smiled venomously. "You see, Dear, that's what happened between Lydia and Jack Wellwood. Of course, you wouldn't know them, but they were very prominent in Rio Lado and the county… even the state. Jack had designs on the presidency of the University, and certainly would have made it had it not been for Lydia. She was so dull; so… so unimaginative."
Dianne watched her sigh expressively. "Poor Jack," she went on. "He's teaching now in some junior high school, I understand… divorced, of course… a rotten shame, don't you think, Dianne?"
"I didn't know them."
"Yes… yes, of course… you didn't know them."
A.C. Faro caused her to jump as he touched her hand with his own. "Would you like another drink, Dianne?" he questioned.
He could see it, too, she thought, and for a moment her heart went out to this man who was so much older than his wife. It was almost as if they had something in common… conniving a method of holding on to the ones they loved. She smiled.
"Thanks… maybe, that wouldn't be such a bad idea, but let's change to bourbon and soda, please."
"All right," he said. "I'll have one with you."
Dianne found a cigarette and A.C. lit it. Actually, she felt as if she were once again in the midst of some kind of nightmare, and there was no way of dissolving it to extricate its cause. Mark had ignored her since cocktails, speaking no more than one or two words like a master would to his dog. This broad, handsome gentleman… one A.C. Faro, was extending himself to be gallant, and all she could think of was the unwritten unencroachable rules of the club. Dinner was long past and Tonya Faro was holding hands openly with her husband… Dear God, wasn't there yet some measure of mercy…?
"What say, you and I go to the bar for a drink?" A.C. whispered into her ear. "I'm not saying it'll have any effect on those two lovebirds… but at least, we won't have to watch them."
"I'd love it!" Dianne said, pushing back her chair and standing.
A.C. arose with her, neither paying the slightest attention to their companions, and then Dianne had caught his arm as they walked off, thinking that ought to shake Mark a little.
If it did, she had no way of knowing. He hadn't followed, nor suddenly, did she expect him. She had been thrust into this man's hands in the manner of the "swap"… but thank God, A.C. seemed as unreceptive as she was to the forced arrangement. He seemed such a gentleman. They talked for a while about a wide variety of things as they drank until she could stand it no longer.
"I can't stand this!" she said suddenly. "I wouldn't dare tell anyone else, but I know I can tell you. I saw it in your eyes there when they were holding hands. Now… please, listen, I've got to find him and take him home. He's my husband…! Mark's my husband…!"
"Yes," A.C. replied. "Of course, Dear."
"It won't make any difference will it? I mean. Mark's election?"
"Well… the main thing is that you're happy."
"Oh God… thank you," she said, squeezing his hand. "Thank you… Now, let me look…"
She hopped from the stool and moved rapidly back toward the dining room. She was convinced that she could persuade him to leave with her; if it was necessary she would imply that Mr. Faro wanted no part of this abhorrent escapade either. The man loved his wife and that was as obvious to her as daylight and darkness.
OH God, Mark, let's not make any takes than we already have!
She couldn't find them. She ran into the parking lot and saw their own car gone. Tears flooded down her cheeks. She wandered back inside, an emptiness gripping at her stomach. She found a secluded chair and wept awhile, then, tried to get hold of herself. She had to do something… at least, go home.
The open, balustraded stairway of the club loomed before her and she ascended it aimlessly to get away from the activity for a few minutes. She walked along a darkened, wide hallway with soft carpeting, her mind whirling in a maze of thoughts that she didn't want to remember. She couldn't think intelligently. At the end of the corridor she pushed through a doorway and suddenly found herself on the near-darkened sun-deck; she paused there and drew in a deep breath of warm night air.
God, she wished she had a cigarette. She'd left them somewhere down there… Oh, Mark, Mark… where are you?
"Yessss… yessss, Darling… lick it… lick it… Oh yes, lick it good!"
Dianne felt every muscle in her body tense, as if someone had clamped a block of ice to the back of her neck. She dare not breathe, and the words came to her, registering in her brain… It was a woman's voice, hissing the words in passion… She looked around, but could yet see nothing, only hear their movements and what sounded like wet, sluicing noises…
"Ohhhh… its beautiful, Darling… beautiful…"
Dianne gave a start as the door behind her opened and a man came out quietly. It was A.C. She turned away, embarrassed, and he came up behind her. She felt that she was about to speak when the feminine voice in a choked whisper begged: "Ooooohhh oooohhhh… that's the way… suck it too… lick and suck, Darling…"
Faro placed his hands on her upper arms from behind, pressuring gently as if in signal to be quiet. She felt him move up close to her, then, he whispered: "We have company."
Dianne made a little nod of acknowledgment, a wave of shame for the unwary lovers, as well as the girl's vile language sweeping over her.
"They're over there," Faro whispered into her ear. "See…? On that chaise lounge…"
Dianne saw them then, partially illuminated in the light reflecting up from the parking area, and the faint half-moon. The girl lay with her back propped up, her dress bunched around her middle and her legs raised and drawn back, her thighs widely spread before the man whose head was lowered into her loins. He, too, was naked from the waist down, his buttocks and legs glistening, in the pale light.
My God, she couldn't believe the lewd sight! The girl had her hands in his hair and was writhing and twisting beneath him, as if she were trying to pull him deeper between her obscenely flayed thighs. Again, the wet sucking sounds drifted to her and she felt the warm blood pouring into her face. They were so engrossed in their vile performance that they hadn't heard either her, nor A.C., come out…
"Oooohhh… oooohhhhh, yes, Darling… like that… do it like that," the girl whimpered, while Dianne stared as if hypnotized by the salacious sight and sound.
She was hardly conscious of A.C.'s arm moving around her waist and drawing her back against him, and then the other arm had crept around until she was completely encircled and she could feel his hot breath against her ear and cheek. But for some unknown reason, she didn't feel any resentment, or that he was trying to take advantage… He'd been a perfect gentleman, and a partner in shared misery, so as to speak: if anything, he was only offering her his strength to lean upon.
Then, it occurred to her what they were doing… standing there listening and watching the unknown couple's lewd act, and once more, shame swept through her. Was she losing all sense of decency, herself? She made a motion to release herself from A.C.'s embrace and felt his arms tighten around her.
"Shhh," he whispered. "That's Byron Acker, City Councilman, and Betty Rhodes. We don't want them to know they've been seen like this, damned embarrassing, you know…"
"Betty Rhodes…? You mean, Doctor Rhodes' wife?" Dianne questioned incredulously.
"The same, Honey… listen… he's sucking her cunt," the big man hissed into her ear.
Every muscle in Dianne's soft, voluptuous body tensed and strained at his casual use of the foul word and descriptive phrase, the blood flushing into her cheeks hotly once more…
"Ooooohhhh… come up and fuck me now, Darling… my cunt's on fire," Betty Rhodes gasped passionately, pulling him by the hair, trying to raise him up over her.
Dianne continued to stare in fascinated disbelief as Byron Acker climbed up onto his knees and moved between her wide-spread, raised and waiting legs; his long thick shaft standing out in silhouette from his loins like the wagging limb of a tree in the dim light.
"You love to fuck, don't you…?" Dianne heard him say to her.
"Oh, God yes, I love it!"
"Doesn't that doctor-husband of yours fill this cunt for you?"
"Not like you, my Darling… Wait… wait! I want to suck it some more, first. Bring it up here…!"
Dear God! Dianne thought. She'd never seen nor heard anything so utterly obscene in her lifetime. The lewd sounds of their foul words ricocheted in her brain as she watched him move up over her, his knees planted now on either side of her half nakedly exposed body beneath him, his vile shaft spearing out; then, she gaped in sheer awe as Betty Rhodes reached behind him, clasping her buttocks in both of her hands, drawing herself up lewdly until his hard penis disappeared right into her mouth.
"My God!" Dianne hissed, hardly aware of A.C.'s hand gently cupping her own round, firm breast, or the other hand that was softly stroking her lower belly even as he drew her back protectively against him.
"She's sucking him now," he whispered to her as she became aware of the growing hardness that had somehow insinuated itself between her full globular buttocks, and she caught at his hands gently but firmly in a quiet attempt to keep him from going any farther, as she tried to ease her bottom away from his growing, jerking hardness, but he held to her tightly.
My, God, she couldn't blame him for getting aroused… the lewd scene had instigated tiny prurient sensations to come alive in her own love-starved loins, and the lustful sounds they were making embellished with their licentious language was strangely exciting her. She had never watched, or even thought of two people making love before, and was amazed how strongly it affected her erotically, and not disgustingly as she might have expected.
Still, she had to keep her wits. A situation like this, she decided, could quickly get away from both of them, especially while nourishing the hurt and resentment that they both were… and with the stimulation of the lust-inciting exhibition taking place right in front of their eyes…
"Oh Christ… suck it… suck that prick, Baby!" Byron Acker groaned, and Dianne could see his buttocks thrusting back and forth as he sawed his long, thick penis into Betty Rhodes' face.
"Mmmmmmmm," the doctor's wife mewled and purled as she clung to his flexing buttocks, his huge prick seeming to go all the way down her throat each time he rammed it forward.
My God, he was going to choke her to death! Dianne gasped while a chill of unexplainable excitement swept over her and simultaneously she felt the Commissioner's warm, searching hand slip inside the low-neckline of her dress to push aside her bra and cup the softness of her firm, naked breast, trapping the tiny nipple gently between thumb and forefinger. She had offered him resistance, but not vigorously as he kept "shhh-ing" into her ear knowing that she would not let him go any further… Besides, what were Mark and Tonya Faro doing, wherever they were, right at that moment? Probably, much worse… more like the lewd sight they were witnessing… Anyway, it felt good as the nipple stiffened and swelled under his massaging hand and tweaking fingers…
"Now… now, fuck me, Darling," Betty Rhodes groaned up at him, dropping her head against the chair and letting free of his raging cock, while A.C.'s hand smoothed down over her own belly… down… down to the soft rise of her mound to stroke and press gently, forcing her full round buttocks back tighter against his ever growing and hardening prick.
"I'll fuck you like you've never been fucked in your life, you little bitch," Byron Acker hissed affectionately, moving back between her spread thighs quickly.
Dianne gasped at the tingling sensations A.C.'s tenderly stroking hand sent surging wildly through her loins and belly, causing her to force her buttocks back tight against the hardness of his fleshy rod pressing into the sweat-moistening cleft separating her buttocks. Oh God… she was losing her sense of reason…! This was terribly dangerous ground they were treading on… but she couldn't bring herself to leave the sight of the licentious coupling about to take place before her…
"Yes… yessss… hold my legs way up, Darling… like that… yesss… squeeze my tits! Oooohhhh, fuck harder… harderrrr… put your finger in my ass… Aaaaggghhhh! Yes… hurt me! Hurt me…! Oh God… I'm cumming… Cuuuummmmmiiinnnnnnggggg…!"
Betty Rhodes wailed a low, guttural sound as she writhed and squirmed insanely beneath the furious pummeling of Byron Acker's buttocks smacking loudly into her, and then, Dianne watched him throw back his head and bare his teeth like an animal as he reached his own climax.
A shudder of wild excitement suddenly spiraled the length of Dianne's spine, and it was then that she realized A.C. Faro had raised her dress and had his hand between her hot trembling thighs, beneath her wisp of nylon panties, one finger inserted deeply between the dampened, hair covered lips of her pussy and into her moist tingling vagina.
"Oh… oh!" Dianne gasped, the full realization of what was happening dawning upon her. "Oh God… please," she hissed, squirming and struggling to get his deeply imbedded finger out of her wetly excited vagina. "Please, Mr. Faro… I'm not that kind of woman… I love my husband…"
"I know, I know," he whispered, his breath hot in her ear as he continued to massage her throbbing naked breast and burrow his long middle finger up into her expanding, lubricated passage, the electric-like ecstatic sensations it was causing almost driving her mad. "And I'll stop… if you want me to… even though our respective mates are probably fucking themselves silly somewhere…"
"Oh God, don't talk that way, Mr. Faro…" Dianne pleaded, her frustrated brain caught in a whirlpool of opposing emotions. "Two… two wrongs won't make a right… At least, we must keep our heads… Please…?"
A.C. Faro is no fool, Baby, he thought, as he continued to slip his middle finger deeply in and out of her delightfully dilating cunt. She was reveling in it and he knew it. Christ, what a tight little hole it was… just as he'd imagined. And she wasn't going to be an easy lay… just as he'd imagined… so, play it cool… always, the gentleman… move it slowly… Besides, this was no place to put it to her, not the way he intended to fuck this little doll… Time, and room, and privacy were the prime requisites… and he had that figured out, too. He was certain he could break her down now, but with a little more clever, solid approach…
"All right," he whispered, reluctantly ceasing his finger fucking into her warm, velvety passage. "But I'm not sorry it happened… are you?"
Dianne sighed with both relief and regret as she felt him withdraw his finger from her desire stimulated pussy, then release her throbbing breast. Without looking at him, she straightened herself, then slowly turned to face him.
"No," she whispered, "After what's happened between Mark and your wife, I'm not sorry."
Faro started to take her into his arms but Dianne placed her hand against his chest and looked up into his handsome face pleadingly. It was enough, she saw, to hold him off. He was a gentleman.
He smiled. "Okay… let's you and I go see if we can find them. They might well be at our place. Are you game to break in on them?"
"Yes."
"No telling what we'll find," Faro reminded her.
"I know."
He took her arm, then paused to look over at Betty Rhodes and Byron Acker. He grinned and said: "Look."
Dianne turned and saw them again in the faint light. Now, he was stretched out in the chair and she was haunched obscenely over him, her head bobbing up and down over his loins.
"She is really sucking him off this time," A.C. Faro whispered.
"Yes," Dianne nodded, hardly noticing the lewdness of his words this time. "…She really is, isn't she?"