Lovely Kelly Brown looked up from reading Crime and Punishment, and caught sight of the stain in the carpet that was so plainly visible in spite of all her efforts to arrange the furniture so that it would be hidden. She sighed, thinking that she should be more careful as a homemaker, make some greater effort at graceful living.
But she knew that Tom, her husband, really didn't appreciate the little touches that were so important to her. Flowers on the table, dinner by candlelight. They weren't for him. She knew it was because he'd never had such things at home. He came from a family of decent, hard-working people, the finest in the world, she thought, and they adored their son. But they hadn't been able to do much for him. Not like her own wealthy father who had sent her to one of the best private schools in the country and then on to a good college, where she had spent four years studying psychology and had graduated with honors. Tom, on the other hand, had left school in his teens to go to work. He'd had a good job then, as he did now, as a construction worker. And when Kelly had met him he had seemed so much more honest, so much more exciting than the usual college boy she dated, that she had fallen head over heels in love with him… There had been opposition from her family, but she had expected that, and in the end they had given in and even put up with her own demand for a simple wedding at home, rather than the big church wedding her mother had set her heart on.
But even as she had walked through the big double-doors on her father's arm, to the minister standing near the ornate fireplace, her mother's warnings had echoed in her ears. "Oh, it may be fine at first," she said. "You're young and in love, that Tom Brown has swept you off your feet. But just wait until later. Just wait!"
"Nothing will happen, Mother," Kelly had assured her.
"And that's just it," she had answered, almost spitefully. "Nothing's going to happen. You have nothing in common with Tom, dear, nothing at all. Background, education, nothing. And when the first bloom wears off, and it will, it will… then you'll be stuck with someone with whom you can't communicate. You'll be complaining just about that -the fact that 'nothing's going to happen'. And you'll be bored, my dear. So bored. Sitting around keeping busy with your tatting…"
Kelly had suppressed a smile. "Mother, no one had done any tatting for the last fifty years…"
"It was merely a figure of speech," the mother had snapped. And then she went on. "Mark my words, Kelly. No good will come of this marriage. None at all!"
Kelly's mother had been right, after all. The first year or so had been sheer ecstasy for the young woman. But then the rest of her prediction seemed to come true. There was nothing definite to mark the beginning of what now looked to the lovely blonde wife as the beginning of the end. But she had awakened one day to the fact that she was bored with Tom, that they had nothing in common any more, if they ever had had.
"There's nothing we can talk to each other about," Kelly complained to her best friend.
The other woman had shrugged her shoulders. "Why bother?" she asked. "There are other things…" she had smirked almost lewdly and Kelly had been offended.
She sat now, reading the thick novel. It was so interesting and she longed to share her thoughts with her husband. But she knew it was useless; he might or might not have understood her, but he certainly couldn't have cared less. She stared at him across the room, watching as he leafed through the copy of some girlie magazine he had picked up at a newsstand on the way home, saw the lascivious little play about his lips as he stared at one of the nearly-naked models, and read his thoughts accurately. He was longing to strip off the little loin-cloth draped over her young pink pussy and go plunging deep up inside it. She turned back to her book.
She leafed through the pages, too nervous to apply herself, and then something caught her eye. It was a chapter on marriage and what to do when it all seemed to go wrong. Wife-swapping was the suggestion. My God, Kelly thought, and then, intrigued, she read on. Yes, the experts who had written the book insisted, that was often the solution when a couple seemed to be mismated. Kelly mulled it over. Mismated? But that was what she and Tom were, wasn't it? Mismated! And maybe wife-swapping would solve their problems. She looked up from her book and over at her husband, slouching in the big overstuffed chair that he preferred to relax in. He grinned lecherously as he read some especially spicy passage, then chuckled to himself.
Kelly opened her mouth, ready to read a passage from the book in her hands, and then suddenly clamped it shut. What was the use? He wouldn't understand. He would merely laugh at her as he so often did, mock the use of the technical language, tell her to "come off it". She shook her head. if only…
Tom; sitting opposite his wife, stared at the naked models, licking his lips lasciviously. Christ, they were built. But built! Man, oh man! He had to admit though that his wife Kelly was every bit as beautiful as any one of these bare-assed babes in the photos. As beautiful! Christ, she had them beat by a mile! But his life wasn't all honey and roses, in spite of
that. Shit, something had gone sour somewhere, sometime. Tom scratched his head reflectively, wondering what it was.
Kelly had changed. She had changed, and it wasn't for the better, either. It wasn't that she'd really been acting "superior" on him, she was too nice a kid for that, but Jesus Christ, she sure managed to give that impression.
Like now, he thought. Like now. There she was, acting so goddamned intellectual, reading that big thick psychology book when he had other, and damn it all, better things on his mind. An intellectual, that was what his wife was, and Tom laughed disdainfully to himself as he remembered something that some writer, someone whose name he couldn't remember and one he probably couldn't have pronounced even if he had, remembered how some writer had defined the word. "An intellectual," he had said, "is someone who manages to think about something other than sex at least once in a while." The young construction worker looked over at his wife, staring lewdly at her lovely figure, her beautiful face framed by long blonde hair, her ripe plump breasts damn near popping out from under that tight see-through blouse she wore, her long and voluptuously curved legs curled up beneath her now while one slender foot hung free, waving back and forth provocatively.
Christ, he thought, no one could ever call me an intellectual. Just the sight of his wife sent sudden spasms of lust shivering up his spine, made him ache and burn at the center of him, stiffened his cock beneath his pants until he wanted to get up and grab her… Grab her, yes… throw her down on the floor, strip off that little miniskirt she wore… oh, God! He almost had to laugh, he thought, feeling more like crying. He almost had to laugh at the way nothing added up, nothing made sense. Here was this chick, this living doll -turning him on a hell of a lot more than the girls in the pictures did, and yet at the same time she acted as if she were above such basic indoor sports. Oh, God, he thought, groaning inwardly. Why had he married a beauty with brains?
He sighed audibly this time, and Kelly raised an eyebrow, peering above the page she had been reading. "Yes?" she asked.
"I didn't say anything."
"Oh, I thought you had."
"No, I didn't."
"Sorry."
"Aw, come on, Kelly…"
She closed the book abruptly, with a loud smack that reverberated through the room. "What is it, Tom?" she asked solicitously.
Her tone of voice angered her husband. Who the hell was she to act so high-and-mighty? Like a school teacher or something. As if she was better than he was! Jesus, he earned a good living, didn't he? Gave her
everything she wanted. Unless… For a moment he doubted his own worth. And then he leaned back and laughed. Jesus! What the hell was the matter with him? He was as good as any guy on the block, wasn't he? Better even. Jeez! He could hold out longer than any one he knew. So what was Kelly complaining about?
Oh, Christ! That's what women were like. He should have known when he married her that something like this would happen, but he hadn't, and now here he was, stuck with her.
If only he could have another woman tonight, he thought. He stared lecherously at one of the photos in the magazine and had the eerie feeling that the girl naked there on the bearskin rug was winking at him. He turned the page quickly, glancing at the headings of the articles that followed. He had a feeling that he'd read them all before, and he idly flipped the rest of the pages until he got to the end of the magazine. Studying it, Tom saw that it was a series of ads placed by readers anxious to meet other readers who wanted, as the magazine put it, "to swing".
There were a lot of singles who liked their sex in different forms, a lot of them exotic, and Tom felt a dart of pleasure course through his veins as he read some of them. "Young model wants to swing with partners of any and all sex… pictures provided. Write J.W…" and a box number followed. Christ, he thought, she sounded just like what the doctor ordered.
He glanced again at Kelly and was ashamed of his thoughts. Damn it all, he'd married her for better or for worse, and even if it was worse, and God knew it was, he still loved her. He got up and went into the kitchen. "Want a beer?" he asked.
Kelly shook her head. "I don't think so," she said.
Her answer served to annoy Tom even more. Beer wasn't good enough for her, he thought angrily. She had to have one of those fancy liqueurs or something, like her family served after dinner. He still remembered with chagrin knocking back a small glass the way he would have downed a shot of whiskey in the kind of bar he like to frequent, and then found that everyone was staring at him as if he'd just farted or something. Christ! They were all sipping at theirs, acting so damned snotty, their pinkies curled as they lifted their glasses. Oh, Jesus! The way they all stared down their noses at him just because they had money!
Kelly had been different, of course. She'd always managed to make him feel at ease, at least in those days. But now! He shook his head. He was beginning to feel like the proverbial bull in a china shop whenever he was with her. Oh, shit! He picked up his beer and poured it down his throat, then opened a second can. "Sure you don't want any?" he called to the living room.
"No, thanks," Kelly called back. And then she added, "But you go ahead and have one."
Oh! So now she was giving him permission to drink! Well, screw her! He polished off the second can and opened a third. He had just lifted it to his mouth when his wife called out, "Darling, I'm going up to bed."
Fuck you, he thought again. So go to bed! Go up alone. You might just as well, for everything you're throwing my way! He carried his drink into the living room and sat down, this time nursing it.
So Kelly had gone to bed, had she? Well, how about that now? And what was she planning to do there? Close her lovely eyes and pretend that she was fast asleep when he came up. "Oh, not tonight, Tom. I'm too
tired."
The thought riled him. God, what a marriage! Why the hell…? But he couldn't answer any of the questions he posed for himself, couldn't seem to think clearly. A sudden surge of anger tore through him. Damn it all! Damn her! Why, she'd even gotten around to pretending that he drank too much, as if no one in her family ever touched the stuff. Oh, sure, once in a while maybe he drank a little bit too much, but then who didn't? And maybe it did affect him a little bit. But not the way Kelly claimed. He never got drunk. And maybe he liked to argue a little more than usual when he had been "indulging", that's the expression her family would have used, but the hell with it. He never got real mean! He never blew his top the way some guys he knew did, never picked fights or stamped around or stomped on anyone. And Jesus Christ, he'd never punched his wife, never touched her all this time. Put up with her!
The thought infuriated him. Damn it all! He set the beer can down on the table and then with an angry gesture knocked it off. And then he got up and lumbered into the kitchen to get another. He drank it in the living room again, this time picking up the magazine while he drank.
Tom Brown turned to the picture of the girl which had attracted him before and, staring at it, he felt the familiar ache start in his loins, the lurch in his cock, the sudden hardening of it. Christ, he'd like to get some right now. He'd like to fuck a babe like the one who stared at him, pouting seductively. Jesus, better than that, he'd like to fuck Kelly upstairs in the bedroom.
He finished the beer. He'd like to fuck Kelly, all right. But not the way he usually did. Not just ploughing deep up into her warm and quivering cunt, his lust-bloated penis pushing the flesh back in soft pink waves, sawing in and out while her moistly pulsating vagina sheathed him like a glove. Not just that. Oh, no!
There were a dozen other things he wanted to do to his wife, had always wanted to do to her. But she'd been so puritanical, so uptight, that he'd never dared. But things were going to change around here, he vowed
suddenly, smacking one huge balled fist against the palm of his hand. Things were going to change. And soon, too. And soon, like tonight.
Tom looked again at the girl in the photo, stared at her large firm breasts, at the rosy nipples tight with excitement. Christ, she was good-looking, but Kelly, cold as she was acting these days, was a hell of a lot better looking. Oh, Christ! What was he waiting for anyway? His penis was throbbing now, his guts on fire with the need for his wife. Damn it all, he wasn't going to wait any longer!
He clumped off; heading upstairs and toward the bedroom. The door was closed and he rattled the knob before he turned it, yanking it open. He peered in and saw that Kelly was asleep, her lovely body clad in a thin and lacy nightgown, a light blanket pulled up to her shoulder.
"Kelly!" he bellowed.
She made no move, slumbering on. Tom walked onto the room and switched on the light, peering down into her face After a long time he spoke her name again, and now her eyelids fluttered open. "Tom?" she asked. "Tom? Is that you?"
"Who the hell else?" he bellowed.
Suddenly Kelly sat up, her eyes wide now. "Oh, Tom. What do you
want?"
"Oh, for Christ's sake," he sputtered. "What the hell do you think I
want?"
"I don't know," Kelly said, shaking her head. Her husband stared at her, excited by the sight of her warm soft breasts barely covered by the flimsy nylon gown she wore, by the gentle slope of her shoulders brushed now by the long golden strands of her silken hair. He swallowed hard, feeling the desire grip him again, making his flesh burn, the blood in his veins explode like little pins that pricked his flesh. Oh, Christ!
"What is it?" Kelly asked.
There was no answer from Tom, merely a muffled groan. And then Kelly saw that he was stripping off his clothes, unbuttoning his blue work shirt, ripping it from his broad shoulders, dropping it on the floor.
He unbuckled his belt then, unzipped his pants and slid them down over his hips. He stood before his wife then wearing only his brief jockey shorts and she saw the bulge there between his thighs. A tremor of excitement ran through her and then she gasped as he stripped off even his shorts and his huge fleshy penis soared out toward her. She knew instinctively that he would be cruel to her tonight, and she shuddered as he approached the bed.
"What's the matter, Kelly?" he asked suddenly, bending down, his lips twisted in an evil sneer. "Don't feel like getting fucked tonight?"
She shuddered at the obscene word. If only Tom wouldn't say things like that, she thought, as her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. She
loved her husband, she really did. But he was so different from her, different from anyone she had known before. And she still hadn't been able to accept the uncouth, the vulgar, the obscenities with which he peppered his speech.
Watching her closely, Tom saw the small signs of distress, of disgust even, that flickered across her face. Damn her! Too good for him, was she? The hell with all that! He'd show her something… take her off her high horse! God, she was just like every woman… every woman on earth. And whether they admitted it or not, there was only one thing they wanted. Which was to be fucked, fucked silly!
Well, he would throw her a fuck tonight that she would never forget. He would make her grovel, the way she seemed to want to make him do. He'd crawled before her and her highfalutin' family long enough. Now it would be her turn.
There was a wildness in his eyes that sent a shiver of terrified excitement through the young woman. Impulsively she burst out with, "Oh, Tom, you've been drinking again, haven't you?"
"Yeah," he said, mocking her cruelly. "I've been drinking again.
So what?"
"Oh, nothing… nothing," she answered quickly. "Then why did you ask?"
Kelly shook her head and now one of the tears slid slowly down her cheek. Tom waited for her answer but none came. Then suddenly his hand shot out to seize the narrow strap of her nightgown, sliding it roughly down over her arm.
"Oh, darling! Don't! You'll tear it…"
"So… I'll tear it!"
"Please," she whimpered, recoiling from her husband.
"Please…" he mocked her again. And then once more his voice took on a tone of cruelty. "Okay, Kelly. Get naked. That's the way I want to see you. Naked. Your big tits quivering like jelly…" As if to emphasize his point, he slipped his hand beneath the gown to seize one softly trembling breast and began to knead it brutally.
Kelly winced and whimpered with pain. Even so there was an exquisite pleasure to it that seemed to set her loins on fire.
Tom's harsh fingers tweaked at the throbbing knobs of her nipples, rolling them until they stood in tight little peaks. And then his other hand shot out, tearing back the blanket that still covered his wife's hips and thighs. Suddenly he seized the hem of the short little gown and flipped it back over Kelly's smooth white belly, exposing the little golden triangle at the base of it. With another abrupt gesture he slid his hand in between her thighs, spreading them apart with the pressure of his opening fingers.
Once again a flash of pain shot through Kelly's lovely body and she gasped, "Oh, don't… don't, Tom."
"What's the matter… your precious pussy too good for my cock? Is that it?"
"Oh… nooooo…"
Tom's hand left her breast now and curled around his massive member as he began to massage it lewdly, pulling the heavy foreskin back and forth.
A thick drop of cum seeped from the glans of the hardening tip. He stared for a moment at the narrow hair-lined slit between her legs, glistening now with her own moisture. Christ, he thought. He ought to ram it right up her, right now. But he had other things in mind, humiliating things to do to Kelly.
She seemed to understand that instinctively, because a new look of fright crossed her face, another tremor shook her body. "Oh, Tom," she moaned. "What are you going to do?"
He laughed coarsely, shaking his head. "It's not what I'm going to do," he said. "It's what you're going to do."
"What do you mean?" Her voice was scarcely audible.
"Suck cock, that's what I mean," he said brutally.
"What?"
"You head me. You're going to suck cock."
"But Tom," she protested. "I never have."
"I know that, goddamn it. And it's time you did."
"Nooo…" Kelly's protest was scarcely more than a whisper now, but her eyes widened as Tom suddenly dropped down on the bed, straddling her cringing body. He slithered up over her then until his loins were poised above her face. "Open your mouth," he ordered. "Open it."
Kelly clamped her lips tightly together, more frightened than she had ever been, wondering what on earth had come over her husband. Oh, God! This was a shocking perversion, this thing he was demanding of her. A shocking perversion. Her mind raced back in time and she thought briefly of her very proper mother, almost able to see the expression of horror that would cross her face if she were to learn of this terrible thing that Tom was about to do! She couldn't let him. She just couldn't!
But Tom's thick fleshy cock struck out like a lance that would cut her open, a sword that would split her in two. She jerked her head away instinctively, trying desperately to escape her lust-maddened husband. Oh, dear God! Why did he have to do something like this to her? Why?
Kelly didn't know. She only knew that flow Tom was rubbing the wet lubricated head of his blood-engorged penis against her tightly clenched lips. "Oh, no…" she moaned, parting her lips slightly.
Tom pressed forward, taking advantage of the moment to force his throbbing penis between her glistening lips. Kelly groaned and fought for an instant, flailing her head from side to side to escape her own husband's cruel impalement, but at last she relaxed, almost collapsing back against the pillow, giving in to him by opening her mouth and accepting his huge penis into its warm moist cavern…
The blood-filled head slid deep inside as Tom flicked his hips forward, and a stifled moan escaped Kelly's lips around its desire-thickened girth. Oh, God! She couldn't breathe! She was going to suffocate!
She twisted beneath her husband, fighting against him with her last remaining strength, but it was useless. In spite of her struggles she was unable to break free…!
Tom tangled his hands in her hair, pulling her head closer, deeper into his loins. And now she was forced to begin a gentle sucking motion, her lips ovalling wide around the hard shaft of flesh that filled her mouth. He began to saw back and forth until it seemed that his blunt bulbous cock-head brushed against the back of her throat.
Kelly sputtered, protesting, but now her cheeks hollowed and expanded with each stroke he made into her mouth and then cautiously, tentatively, she let her tongue trail along the underside of his cock, let it swirl briefly around the huge bloated tip. Oh, God! She had never imagined doing anything so depraved, so evil! And yet the very wickedness of what she was doing added to the excitement that was beginning to churn through her quivering body. Her eyes filled with tears as she worked over her demanding husband's penis plunging again and again deep into her throat, but stifled moans of pleasure escaped her lips at the same time. And now little explosions of throbbing desire seemed to ignite her blood, sending waves of heat to alternate through her body with other waves of cold.
Tom's sperm-filled balls slapped heavily against her chin, the short wiry hairs that surrounded his lust-filled member grazing Kelly's chin. She clasped her lips tightly around his plunging, ploughing cock and then brazenly licked at the thick white semen seeping from the tiny winking slit at the tip, swallowing it greedily.
She fought against the base emotions that seemed to engulf her now, suffused with shame, with the deepest possible humiliation, yet unable to wipe away the pleasure of the moment too. All the precepts that had been drilled into her in her childhood, all the values she had been brought up to respect, seemed to be wiped out, and she wanted nothing more than this terrible subjugation. Oh, God! She was nothing but a whore… nothing but a whore! And that was what she wanted to be!
She sucked on and on, again running her tongue over the sensitive swollen flesh of her husband's cock in a paroxysm of ecstasy. Suddenly she was almost unbearably impatient for Tom to shoot forth his thick hot sperm, filling her hot mouth with the pungent liquid.
And then at last that moment came. Tom jerked forward in his own wild spasm, his body arched and tense. His sperm-swollen balls spurted forth a steady stream of thick, viscous cum as he drove his throbbing penis deep into her mouth.
She continued to suck hungrily, struggling to swallow every precious drop as it gushed in little rivulets that over-flowed and seeped down her chin. Her little pink tongue flicked out to lick at them and then she sighed ecstatically, reveling in the very degradation to which she had been subjected.
As she felt her own loins convulse with enjoyment of the pleasure she had brought to her husband, felt her own orgasmic fluids seep forth, she cried out in her abandoned, joy… and then the moment was over, and Kelly relaxed, her pleasure ebbing. It was then that the knowledge of what she had done seemed to pervade her being, bringing with it sheer horror. Oh, God! What terrible act had she committed? What had she permitted Tom to do?
She hid her face in the pillow, trying to evade reality. Tears welled up in her eyes again and this time she could do nothing to stem the tide as they flowed unchecked down her cheeks. She was evil… Tom was evil, too. But she was worse than Tom, she knew in her bones, worse because she knew right from wrong and had made no effort to resist. She could never face herself again, knowing what she was. She could no longer live with herself! She began to sob uncontrollably until at last, tears still streaming down her cheeks, she fell into a troubled sleep…
The next morning Kelly arose early and hurried to shower and dress before Tom awoke. She was filled with shame, her body tense and aching from the way she had been fucked. It was so indecent, she told herself. Shocking and evil, and worst of all, she had enjoyed it. Oh, dear God! She truly was nothing more than a whore!
She scrubbed at her lovely white body, sending cascades of suds flowing over her ripely heaving breasts, then soaping the soft pink folds of flesh between her widespread thighs, and the hair-lined lips of her quivering cunt, as if somehow she could wash away the humiliation of the night before, cleanse and purify herself.
She stepped from the shower at last, patting herself dry with a thick and fluffy towel, then dusted herself with powder. She hastily pulled on her little white panties and her matching brassiere then a short ruffled housecoat. Staring at herself in the mirror, searching her face for some sign of evil there, some decadence, she brushed her long golden hair. Finally she sketched her mouth lightly with a pale lipstick. Then she went downstairs, measured out the coffee and put it on to perk and squeezed two glasses of fresh orange juice
When Tom awoke, he glanced quickly at the other side of the bed and saw that it was empty. He blinked, feeling puzzled, depressed and wondering why. Then everything came back to him and a wave of shame engulfed him. Oh, Christ! Why had he treated Kelly like that? What had made him lose his temper, inflamed him so that he treated his wife like some common whore, some slut he might have picked up!
Tom shook his head, not knowing, but wondering where Kelly was and how she felt about him now. Not so good, he thought, She probably hated him. He'd been a bastard to her. He really had! What a bastard he was! For a terrible moment he thought that she might even have left him. Christ! He couldn't blame her if she did, if she'd gone home to her mother or something.
A terrible feeling of loneliness came over him, and he wondered how in the hell he could go on living without Kelly. Even when things were bad, even when she grated on his nerves the way she had the night before, he knew that he had to have her.
He sat up in bed, listening now, while his heart flailed against his ribs. Christ! If Kelly were gone there wasn't any use in even getting out of bed… then he heard her in the kitchen while the fragrance of freshly brewed coffee floated upstairs.
Oh, thank God! Kelly was in the kitchen making breakfast, just like every morning. With a sign of relief he rolled from the bed, grabbing for his trousers that he'd dropped on the floor the night before, then headed for the shower himself. Things seemed brighter now, even though he still hated himself for the way he'd treated Kelly. What a crumb he was, he thought as he stepped into the shower and the scalding hot water sprayed down on him. He sang as he stepped out and dried himself, as he quickly pulled on his pants, as he shaved and then slicked down his hair with lotion. But as he went downstairs, he suddenly stopped, again ashamed of himself.
He went into the kitchen eyeing his wife dolorously. He waited a moment for her to speak, then cleared his throat. "Hello," he said, while a feeble grin of embarrassment flashed across his features.
Kelly turned to him, her eyes wide and sorrow-filled. "Good morning, Tom," she said.
Tom winced. Oh, so she was going to be like that, was she? Cold, acting hurt. And then later she would forgive him. Christ, if there was anything that made a guy feel guilty, it was having his wife forgive him. He wished they could have the kind of row he'd seen at home when he was a kid and get it all over with. But damn it all, that wasn't her way. Christ, she wanted to suffer, that was all. But maybe that was just poetic justice, after what he'd done to her.
Tom sat down at the table and drank his orange juice while Kelly fried a couple of eggs for him and popped two slices of bread into the toaster. She poured his coffee and placed the cup in front of him, then deftly slipped the eggs on a plate and handed it to him. And then, still saying nothing, she sat down opposite him. She picked up her own cup of coffee and sipped at it, staring at Tom over the rim of the cup.
Her eyes hadn't changed, unless the hurt in them had deepened. They reminded him of a dog he'd had once, a cocker spaniel, who used to give him the same sort of stare when he was left behind. It had made him feel terrible, too, just the way Kelly now did. Well, hell!
He wolfed down his eggs, caught a piece of toast as it popped from the toaster, and slathered it with butter. "We got any jam?" he asked, his mouth full.
"Why, yes, I think we do." She rose to get it, looking through the refrigerator. "Blueberry," she announced. "Will that do?
"That will do just fine," Tom said grimly. And then, as an afterthought he added, "Thanks."
"You're very welcome."
Tom bit back an angry retort, then spooned some jam onto his plate. He spread the toast and took a bite, then remembered Kelly. "Want some?" he asked, pushing the jam pot toward her.
"No," Kelly murmured. "No thank you."
You're very welcome, he thought. You're very welcome. But once again he bit the words back. She picked up her coffee again, sipped at it, then put it down. "Could I have the sugar, please?" she asked.
Tom passed it to her. "Cream?"
"Yes, please." She dropped two lumps of sugar into the cup, poured in the cream, then stirred the muddy mixture absentmindedly.
Torn finished the eggs, took a second piece of toast and mopped up his plate with it. "You not eating anything this morning?" he asked at last.
"Just coffee."
"Aw, come on and eat something, would do you good." "I'm not hungry, Tom"
"Oh, you're not hungry," he said, losing his patience at last. "That's too bad, isn't it?"
Kelly flinched as if he'd struck her a stinging blow across the cheek. Damn it, he thought. I wish I had. And then again he felt the terrible guilt that had assaulted him earlier. He stared at his wife, watching a tear slide down her cheek again, just as one had the night before. Damn her! God damn her anyway. He pushed his chair back and got to his feet, rattling the dishes on the table. Then he brought his fist crashing down onto it, making them jump. "Shit!"
"Tom!"
"Tom!" he mocked her. "Tom! God damn it, Kelly, I don't have to take any more of this B.S…" He turned around, almost knocking over his chair and stamped out of the room. He got his jacket from the closet, fished in his pocket for the car keys, found them, then stomped to the front door. He stopped there, listening, but there was nothing to be heard. The house was as quiet as a deserted church on a summer afternoon… and suddenly Tom felt like a heel, like the biggest heel on earth. Jesus! He didn't want to walk out on Kelly this way. He didn't want to walk out on her anyway. What the hell was the matter with him?
He had a brief sense of what it would be like to come home night after night if Kelly were to leave, to go home to her mother or something like that. The deafening silence night after night, the lonely hours with nothing but television for company. The solitary drinking, not for pleasure but just to get drunk, to blot out his guilt. And his shame, too. Damn it all! And it didn't have to be that way, he thought. It didn't have to be! Not if he would go back and apologize to his wife.
Oh, sure, that wouldn't fix everything up. But if he did, they might be able to talk things over. And that at least would be a start, a step in the right direction. So why not?
He turned on his heel, marching back into the kitchen. Kelly was still sitting at the table, staring into space now, still absentmindedly stirring her coffee with a silver spoon that clacked irritatingly, incessantly against the china cup. Her face was ashen white and now her shoulders dropped with the weight of the burden it seemed that she must bear.
As Tom entered the room, she looked up at him with sad and frightened eyes. And then she looked away, saying nothing.
Tom shifted nervously from one foot to the other, trying to think of something to say. He cleared his throat, hoping she would look at him again. But she kept her eyes on the floor, minutely inspecting a scrap of paper that had fallen to it. He cleared his throat again, then wiped his sweating palms against his trouser legs. He swallowed hard then and finally blurted out, "Kelly, I'm sorry."
She kicked at the scrap of paper that she.had been examining, then looked up at her husband and their eyes met. Suddenly she burst into tears.
"Oh, Tom," she sobbed. "Oh, Tom!"
He put his arm around her shoulder, tilting her face up to him. "Don't cry, Kelly," he said, more gently than he had spoken to her in months. "Don't cry, sweetheart."
She wiped at her tears with the back of her hand. "What are we going to do?"
He patted her hand. "We'll find something," he said. "It will be all
right."
Kelly continued to sob quietly though. Once again she wiped at her tears, smudging her make-up a little. It somehow made her vulnerable and to Tom irresistible. He hated himself even more for what he had done to her, wanted more than ever to find some way out of this impasse the two were trapped in.
"What?" Kelly demanded suddenly. "What will we find?"
"I don't know," he said. "I don't know. But something." "Tom, we can't go on like this."
"Now don't say such things," he scolded gently. "Don't say such things."
Once again Kelly burst into tears. "It's all my fault," she insisted.
"All mine."
"I was a bastard to you last night," Tom said. "A real bastard. Maybe that's all I am, anyway."
Kelly thought about it, tapping her fingers on the table reflectively. "We're different," she said at last. "That's all. Different."
Tom had an impulse to say, "Sure. I'm a man and you're a woman." But he resisted it, knowing that flippancy at this point would only make matters worse. "Yeah," he said. "I guess so."
Maybe we never should have married," Kelly said. It was as much a question as a statement, and Tom quickly denied it. "But we have such different backgrounds, darling," she said. "My mother always said it wouldn't work, you know."
"I know," Tom said glumly. What a bitch his mother-in-law was, he thought. Typical. What a bitch!
"But maybe we can make it work?" Again it was a question, and Kelly raised her eyes to Tom hopefully.
"I guess so," he said at last, mulling over her words. "Maybe if we try hard enough…
There was another long silence, finally broken by Kelly. "It won't help," she said in a sad and almost broken voice. "It won't help, Tom. You need someone else.. someone who is… well… more like you." She doubled her fist and put it up to her mouth, chewing on her knuckles.
Tom wanted to deny it all, wanted to say it wasn't true. But it was true and that was the hell of it. He eyed her once more, shifting his glance
from her face to the wall behind her, and then to his own scuffed shoes. "You need someone, too," he said at last.
Kelly thought about it, still chewing on her knuckles. "I guess I do," she admitted.
There was another long pause. The girlie magazine Tom had read the night before somehow loomed large on his horizon. There had been all those advertisements, all those stories of wife swapping, all the letters to the editor which extolled the idea. He thought it over, examining the pros and cons. And finally he broached the idea. "Honey, I was reading in that magazine last night…"
Kelly's own mind flashed back to the book she herself had been studying, the psychology book which had advocated a switch of partners from time to time as a means of strengthening a faltering marriage. Why not? she asked herself. And yet the idea of suggesting it herself was out of the question.
She shook herself, forcing herself to concentrate on what her husband was saying. "Yes?" she asked. "Yes…"
"Well, there were a lot of things in it… in that magazine, I mean… about, well, about wife-swapping."
He dropped the word as if it were a bombshell. When it didn't explode in his face, he went on. "I mean, they seem to think it's a good idea. You know what I mean?"
Kelly nodded. It seemed obvious that they thought wife-swapping was a good idea. "Yes, I guess so."
"Well, what would you think of it?" Tom asked her suddenly.
She was both surprised and puzzled. "Of what?" she asked.
"You know… like I said. What would you think of wife-swapping?"
"It sounds to me like a perfectly valid means of establishing a more or less perfunctory relationship," Kelly said.
Tom looked at her in dismay. "What?"
"I said it does seem perfectly valid," Kelly repeated.
"What does that mean?" He felt a surge of anger which drifted away into bewilderment. And then that was dispelled, too. "Honey, I'm asking about what you would think of wife-swapping… for us."
"For… for us?" Kelly stammered.
"Yes. For us." And when she said nothing he asked, "Why not?"
Kelly shook her head. She couldn't think of any reason why they shouldn't. After all, some very valid authorities had encouraged wife-swapping. And on the most basic possible level, what had they to lose? Not one damn thing, she thought with a sudden surge of emotion. Nothing. Oh, God! It might save their marriage, might make their lives tolerable once again.
"I… I think it might be a good idea," Kelly said, suddenly ashamed to discuss the matter. "I mean… well… you know…" Her words faded away, and she sat twisting her fingers together until the knuckles cracked. She stared at her hands as if alarmed by the sudden pop.
"You mean that, Kelly?"
"Yes," she said, nodding vigorously. "Yes, I do."
"That's great," Tom said. "Because I think so too. I think it might be just about the best thing that could happen to us."
Once again Kelly agreed. "Yes." And then she stared again at her slender white hands. When she raised her eyes to her husband's, they were filled with doubts. "But Tom," she began.
"Yes?"
"But… but how would we… well, go about it? You know. Find people? Another couple? You know…" For once she was inarticulate, unable to express herself.
"There are ads…" Tom answered.
Kelly didn't understand. "Ads?"
"Yeah. You know. In the back of the magazine."
"No, I don't know."
"Look, I'll show you." Tom lumbered into the living room, found the magazine he had been reading the night before and turned to the back of it. He carried it to the kitchen, holding it out to his wife. "See. Right
here!"
She scanned it briefly, then handed it back. "Yes," she said. "You're right." She thought about the matter briefly. "Do you think we should put an ad in?" she asked.
"Maybe, maybe not. Let's see if there's something here that we might be interested in." He ran his finger down the column, pausing once or twice. "There's something here," he said. And then he shook his head. "No, it's a swinging single who wants to meet another swinging single."
"That's not for us."
"No," Tom agreed. "That's not for us. And here's someone… No, that won't do, either."
"No?"
"No. 'Swinging couple interested in bondage'…"
"No!"
Tom turned the page and ran his finger down another column. He stopped once or twice, seemed about to speak and thought better of it.
"Yes?" Kelly queried.
"Naw. It's no good." Tom had almost given up when his eye chanced to light on a small discreet advertisement that began: Married couple seeks other couple for fun and games. Wife a rare beauty, former chorus girl, husband well educated.
Tom stopped, suddenly excited. A beautiful chorus girl? A dumb and beautiful blonde, maybe? What more could he ask? What more?
He read on. Husband well educated… then looked questioningly at his wife.
"Educated?" she asked. "Sounds good."
"Oh, yeah!" Husband successful businessman. If you think you can match us, then let's meet. Tom scratched his head, still not certain. "What do you think, honey?"
She shrugged. "What have we to lose?" she asked.
Tom thought that one over. "Nothing," he said at last. "We don't have anything to lose, do we?"
"No, we don't."
Tom put the magazine down. "Shall we get in touch with them then? Shall we answer the ad?"
"Why not?"
"No reason." He stared at the magazine again. At last he said, "Do you want me to do it?"
"Yes. Yes, I do. Is there a box number or something? An address? A telephone?"
"There's a telephone."
"Let's call them then."
Tom looked at his watch. "It's a little bit early," he said. "Can you wait a while?" "I guess so."
Tom stared at his wife again. Christ, she was lovely. And maybe… just maybe… this would all work out. They sat staring at one another again, neither saying anything, each absorbed in his own thoughts.
Time ticked away slowly, marked by the rhythmic sighing of the clock over the kitchen stove. And then at last the sighing seemed to stop, as if it were a signal, and Tom got up and went to the telephone.
He dialed the number, waited for the answer wondering what on earth he would say when he finally reached the guy who had inserted the advertisement. Kelly realized his uneasiness and went out into the other room, leaving him alone with the telephone to negotiate the transaction, whatever that would be.
A little while later he found her sitting on the couch. She looked up expectantly. "Well?" she asked.
"He sounds like a great guy," Tom said.
"Will we meet him? Him and his wife?"
"Sure." "When?"
"It's all arranged," Tom said with a touch of pride. "He's asked us out to dinner, to meet him and his better half. He laughed at his stale joke, and Kelly humored him by smiling.
"Where?" she asked.
"At Pierre's," Tom said.
"Pierre's!" Kelly sucked in her breath. "Oh, Tom… I've never even been there."
"Well, you're going there now, honey. You're going to the fanciest restaurant around."
"When?" Kelly asked.
"Wednesday night," Tom said, smiling.