It occurred to an extremely radiant Beth Durke some weeks following that erotically awakening night at the Wilsons' that very little had changed in Jay's and her mode of living, except that he was drinking less and going to bed earlier at night. In fact, she, too, had taken to sleeping later in the mornings… or at least, laying there beside his big naked frame, waiting for him to wake up and make love to her… if he wasn't too exhausted from the night before.
Then, of course, there were the numerous cocktail and dinner invitations extended by the Wilsons' and Vickie Davis that they had refused, until they stopped coming, and the way that young blonde wife had begun setting Lancer's bones on a plate outside the door, not letting the big German Shepherd in the house anymore. She had even changed super-markets, driving to a center two miles away, and she very seldom was up early enough to see Stan going off to work. Nor did her big, bearded husband seem to run into so many story-line snags to slow him down, or which called for a walk around the yard. Come to think of it, though Sara Wilson spent more time than ever at her gardening, her bikinis seeming to grow skimpier and skimpier, Jay's field-glasses remained on his desk collecting dust.
Still, it seemed that they did little but work, but then, they both immensely enjoyed that, Beth reasoned, going about the brewing of their midmorning coffee. She, especially, had become intrigued since beginning to write her own book, and Jay was pleased about that, even making a joke about it not being necessary in the future for her to research them. Now, she smiled to herself as she thought about it, at the same time listening to the steady clacking tempo of her lover-man's typewriter. On second thought, there had been considerable changes in their life-style, hadn't there?
"Hey, baby… how's that coffee coming?" her writer-husband's braying voice came out to her. "Your lover-man's in need of a pick-up."
"Coming, hon," she replied, setting the necessities onto the tray, a warm thrill of excitement washing through her. There was the reason for her happiness, because she knew that her middle-aged, hairy man's next "pick-up" would involve a siesta… and what secretary – or wife – could ever ask for more?