The mere thought of the word left him breathless; especially since he planned to do it in such a way that it wouldn't even be a crime. Wouldn't make Page One, nor need any charges be pressed, except, of course, during the remedial act itself. The non-violent sex-offense, an art-form which he feared was slowly becoming defunct. Admittedly, it was a real guts-nuts-and-groin problem to take a woman by force, but without pain or vivisection. The trick was to make her want to be overpowered. To do that a guy had to forget all about acting like a gentleman, because it was in his manner that the violence was needed. The power of a threat could move mountains of otherwise pure and unattainable-type broads. Once a woman was convinced that she'd suffer the tortures of the damned if she didn't submit, she'd sigh stoically, then lean back and open up. But to do this the man would have to act and sound like a snarling brute, so that the woman could keep telling herself: "He'll kill me if I don't give in to him." And since she'd much rather be defiled than dead any day, this makes her feel utterly helpless to prevent the atrocity, which, of course, is why she'll be enjoying the biggest thrill of her life, a girlhood dream come true: "There he was, so big and loud and swearing… and poor little me! I was defenseless and in his power. Oh but please, don't ask me any more… I can't talk about it!"
None of them ever wanted to go on about it, thought Brad, for fear of letting it slip what a big ball they'd had.
Brad had always considered himself more manly and rugged than David-wasn't he bigger and huskier and better at sports? He had the most consummate faith that after one tangling blast with him, Linda would want an affair. So the hell with the old computer-route this time out. By betraying him and taking advantage of Joyce's vulnerability, David had broken some ground he'd probably been itching to plow for years. Which Brad saw as the all-clear for him to go and do likewise.
When he went back to the auto lot that day, Brad thought about the quick plan he'd devised. A sure-fire winner, he decided, and thank God all the facts and fates were with him. He went to his office at the back of the show-room and dialed Linda's number. Flora, the children's nurse, answered and said that Mrs. Fortune was busy in the kitchen. Then Linda picked up her extension and said: "That's all right. Flora, I've got it," and the nurse hung up. "Hello… who is this?" Linda asked pleasantly.
"Linda, this is Brad Grogan, which isn't going to make you jump for joy, but I've got a perfectly legitimate reason for calling you, so please don't hang up."
There was a tense pause, as Brad clocked the vibrations: lofty Queen wondering how to handle one of her ex court-jesters. Then, in her characteristically gracious tone of voice, Linda said: "But of course I shan't hang up, Brad. Nice of you to call. How are you?"
… I've got hot planets for you ass and your mink-lined pussy, that's how I am!.. thought Brad. Aloud: "I'm just fine, Linda… doin' real great."
"Well…" soft chuckle, "I hear you've gone over to General Motors." Little acid creeping into her voice now.
"Now Linda, if I could afford a press-agent, that's exactly what I'd want him to say about why I quit my job at All-Planet Insurance, but as you might have heard, I'm managing a used-car lot now, but with an adjoining showroom where we also sell late models…"
"Sounds interesting, Brad. Must be a splendid opportunity for you to meet… oh, all kinds of people."
… Aw you bitch, I'd much rather meet 'em in person than insure 'em on paper, which is what I did when I worked for that rich gravedigger you call a father. And ooh!.. How I'd love to have that old geezer see what I'm gonna do to you later, baby, with your pearl-studded vulva spittin' all that cream and chemistry! "Oh, it's fascinating work all right, Linda. In fact, right now, if it weren't for my job, I wouldn't have this wonderful opportunity to be talking to you."
Another pause op the wire. "I'm afraid you've lost me there, Brad…"
… Ah, but not for long, Lady Fat-Tits!.. "Linda, you have a birthday coming up in a few weeks, and I know I shouldn't be letting this cat out of the bag, but David is planning a surprise for you. And if I remember correctly, you absolutely hate surprises, right?"
"Well… yes. Brad," as if reluctant to admit anything to such a low-life and a bum, "that's quite true. But, I don't see…"
"You like everything scheduled and pre-arranged, which is why you should have the chance to drive your new station-wagon around the block a few times. That way it won't be such a shock when you see it in the driveway on your birthday."
Brad heard her gasp, wondering how many of those sounds he'd worm out of her later. "You mean David's buying me a new station-wagon?" Hmm, no wonder he'd seemed rather quiet and preoccupied the past few weeks, thought Linda; and here she'd been afraid he was coming down with something! "Brad, that's wonderful, although the car I have now is only two years old, and I really don't drive that much, except to take the kids back and forth to school and shop. But… yes, you're quite right, I would like to see it and… get the feel of it first…"
… Aw you'll get the feel of it, baby… it'll be up you so high your teeth'll ache!.. "That's fine, Linda. I'll have one of our demonstrators drive it out to your house within the hour," Brad said aloud.
"No, no… wait," she said, and Brad's heart flipped over and he thought: don't fight this, baby. You need this gift! "You'd better tell your man not to park right in front of the house," she said. "The children are at school, but I wouldn't want any of the household staff to see it. That way everyone'll think I'm genuinely surprised later, which is really what counts the most. With me, anyway; although really, David's such a tease to be doing this, knowing how I am about these things…"
"Yeah, well… maybe he just wants to get a festive little rise out of you," Brad chuckled, "but, well fine, Linda, I'll tell our demonstrator to park around the corner, on Taylor Street. He'll be waiting for you there in exactly one hour."
"All right, Brad, and listen… thanks. You were right to call. Things will go much more smoothly this way…"
… Ahh yes, my love, he thought, as he hung up; smoothly is the word for it. Smoothly in and smoothly out, kneeling, humped or sitting. How do I rape my buddy's wife? Let me count the ways!
It was about two that afternoon when Linda Fortune hurriedly left the house, after telling the servants she was going to have lunch with a friend in the neighborhood who would then drive her into San Francisco to do some shopping. This would explain why she set out on foot, instead of taking her car.
It was a warm late-September afternoon, and she wore only a thin shantung dress with a cardigan slipover draped about her shoulders. Her pale-gold hair was styled loose and casually about the lovely cameo of her face, and she might easily have been taken for a teenager. As she strolled around the block and turned the corner on Taylor Street, she stopped in her tracks and let out a little squeal of delight. For there it was, a brand-new '69 Belvedere station-wagon. And her very favorite color (next to sunny-yellow)… sky-blue! It was long and roomy enough to hold the whole family. This sort of gesture was a bit unlike David, but yet, it was rather dashing and romantic of him to be throwing caution to the winds for once. An occasional change in their rigid pattern of living was exactly the touch of drama they needed, although she'd never dream of making such a request to David, for he seemed so content with his lot, so inexorably set in his ways.
As she approached the car she felt a mild twinge of disloyalty for having conspired against her husband, even though her deception was of such an innocent nature. Then she peered into the car and was startled to see Brad Grogan seated at the wheel.
Giving her one of his ingratiating grins, Brad leaned over and opened the door for her. "Hi, Linda! Our demonstrator couldn't make it. Sudden emergency in his family: his son chewed up his draft-card and got poisoned from the ink. He should 'a burned it, of course, but who can get a kid to conform these days? Anyway, I figured, what-the-heck, if you want something done right, you've gotta do it yourself. So here I am, okay?"
Frowning, Linda tried not to absorb his confusing logistics about draft-cards and ink, while she hesitated and wavered there on the curb. But then her sense of decorum got the better of her and, smiling perfunctorily, she got into the car. As she climbed in, she glanced towards the back-seat and, with considerable surprise, saw that the entire rear-portion of the car had been made up for some sort of camping expedition.
"All our display-models are set up like that," Brad told her quickly, taking her hand and firmly helping her into the car. "That's a portable mattress we've got spread out back there. It folds up real neat and compact. But it shows how comfortable it'll be once you start taking the kids on camping-trips and you want to sleep out. It was all David's idea," he added hurriedly, "I guess he's got plans for you guys this winter…"
Mentioning David had eased her feeling of uncertainty, and smiling primly, Linda settled down in her seat and let Brad close the door. "Well… All this is really very naughty of David," she said with a sigh. "But so endearing too…"
Brad shifted his body a little closer to hers, and she felt a tremor of alarm as she sat next to him and sensed the muscular heat of his presence. She'd always found Brad a disturbing and exasperating man, and was never so pungently aware of this antipathy as now, planted so physically close to those rangy, sprawling legs of his. He was big and gruff and mulishly aggressive, so utterly lacking in the gentler, more chivalrous qualities of her dear husband. The proverbial bull-in-the-china shop, that was Brad Grogan; and she doubted that he'd ever change. However, since he was being considerate and thoughtful at the moment, she decided to be civil and make the best of it. For David's sake. It needn't last very long, at any rate.
Brad gave her a sidelong glance, his sulky black eyes thirstily drinking in the bright afternoon loveliness of his prisoner. Aw man! What a hunk of art-work! What Dresden perfection that would soon be all his to lick and flick from limb to limb! He wondered how she kept looking like such a sweet young untouched kid, when hell, she had to be in her late twenties and had kids of her own. Married Innocence! That's what it was about her, a brand-new kind of sex-appeal that made him feel hot and holy all at once… made his balls want to sing an operetta-duet every time he looked at her. Ooh Christ, he could hear 'em now… especially the base notes… "Isn't she a beauty?" he said.
Linda turned and met his heavy-browed gaze, a bit startled, until she realized he had to be talking about the car. "Oh yes, it's lovely, Brad. Very much like the one I would have chosen myself next year, although I'm not in the least disappointed that David didn't want to wait that long. Poor darling, he's always thinking of something new to make us happy."
Brad took careful note that she'd said "us" instead of "me", which convinced him how shamelessly David must be neglecting her in the pursuit of his fresh amours. He started the motor, his eyes darting simultaneously downward at her legs, loving the way girls' skirts slid half-way up their thighs these days whenever you got one of them in a sitting position. He couldn't wait to get his busy eyes and fingers up there. "I'll… uh… drive the car around a few blocks, let you get used to the rhythm of it. Then you can take over and give her a whirl."
Linda was about to say she'd like to take the wheel immediately and thus save time for them both. But they were already in motion, and she didn't want to make an issue of it. Just wanted the whole interlude to be over with, as briefly and painlessly as possible.
Brad drove in silence for a few moments, softly humming a tune under his breath. Linda began to feel a new, uneasy tension, a nameless fear hovering in the air between them. She found it difficult to keep her mind on the performance of the station-wagon. It occurred to her that she'd never really been alone with this man before, a thought which she found most disquieting, to say the least. She stole a glance at his profile. Such large, rough-hewn features, she thought. A crude face, really, with that fleshy brute-mouth, the unkempt mass of black hair. Preposterous Latin-Lover type, she supposed, despite the fact that he was part Irish. And those tight Mod-slacks looked ridiculous on a man as large as he. God, how his thighs bulged out as he slumped there on the seat! And he smelled strongly of tobacco and bourbon, the latter much to be expected, of course, after all that Joyce had told her about his drinking habits. That poor, victimized woman, what she must have gone through! Linda was suddenly appalled to find herself wondering what Brad and Joyce had looked like nude and dually applied on their bed. Somehow she couldn't imagine this scene; for Joyce was so pretty and elegant, how could she ever let a thug like this make love to her?
To rid herself of such fancies, she forced herself to talk. "I'm so glad you and David still see each other, Brad. Old friends shouldn't lose touch."
"It's good to hear you say that, Linda," said Brad; "especially after that house-to-house smear-campaign you and Joyce launched against me during the divorce."
Linda glanced sharply at him, greatly relieved to see a good-natured smile on his face, considering how hostile his tone had been. "Joyce and I grew up together, Brad. I had to choose loyalties. You must see that."
"Of course I do, Linda," he chuckled softly. "And I'm not bitter about it any more, really I'm not." He fell silent again, continuing to drive slowly through the town.
"Well, I'm… glad to hear that, Brad," said Linda. "And I… I always knew you'd be much too mature to bear anyone a grudge."
He turned and flashed her a quick smile. "You always knew, Linda? Hmm… That sounds like you've given me a lot of thought."
"No, of course not," she said. "I mean, well… yes, at the time, we all did…"
"All you gals ganging up on one lonely guy," he laughed. "Whew! I can hear your witchy-war-cries now: let's get Brad Grogan and run him out of town! And to think…" giving her another fast look… "you did it all with your tongue…"
An icy tremor of panic shot through Linda as she saw his foot press farther down on the accelerator, increasing their speed. "Honestly, Brad, you say you're not bitter about all that mess, but yet you… you keep mentioning it…"
"Yeah… How about that?" he laughed, but mirthlessly now, his tone low and surly. "Makes me a pretty contradictory bastard, doesn't it?"
She winced. "You needn't be profane, you know."
"T needn't be profane!'" Brad mimicked her in a scratchy high-pitched falsetto. "Jesus, you elegant Peninsula prick-eaters give me a pain in the ass!"
Linda gasped, her hand fluttering to her swan-like throat. "I've never in my life heard such language!" He must be on dope, she thought; how else to explain this sudden shift of manner, this maniac animosity?
"… In public you're all halos and holy-water," Brad went on, "but in private you'll take on any guy who asks 'ya… and don't tell me you never knew how Joyce has been grinding her beat-up twat all over the countryside ever since grammar-school…"
"Why, Brad Grogan, if you think for one minute I'll sit here and let you utter those vicious lies about Joyce, you're crazy! So you… can stop this old car and let me out… right here and now… because you're rude!"
Brad pressed his foot on the gas, right down to the floorboard. The big car gave a forward lurch and hurled Linda back against the seat. "You'll go when I finish my demonstration," he said, no longer bothering with the friendly auto-dealer smile, "and I'm not referring to the car. I've got another birthday-present in mind for you, Linda. It's not quite as big as a station-wagon, but oh honey!.. It'll sure get you where you're going!" He glanced with brief amusement at her stricken face, his nuts practically applauding as he saw the delicate petals of her lips flop open in shock. Linda stared straight ahead, nonchalantly trembling; and inwardly babbling out the emergency-preachment: I will see no evil, hear no evil and do no evil!