When the alarm woke her the next morning, Arlene was dazed. Had last night been merely a dream? Then she became aware of the dried sperm matting her thighs. It was true. She had been fucked by young Ralph.
She shook her head rapidly, chasing away the lingering sleep. She wanted to shower, but she didn't have time. First she had to fix breakfast for Bill and Judy. Her children – how could she face them now? How could she ever face her husband Hal again? She felt overcome by guilt. She had been unfaithful – she was no better than a whore. She struggled out of bed and slipped into her housecoat.
She was amazed to find that her feelings of revulsion were not nearly as strong as she felt they should be. Nevertheless, she resolved that she would never repeat last night's experience. Hal would never know – and she would make it up to him somehow.
Later, after Bill and Judy had left for school and Arlene had finished a lengthy shower, the doorbell rang. She wondered who it could be so early in the morning.
She was surprised to see her neighbor, Barbara, standing in the doorway. She hardly ever spoke to her next-door neighbor. Arlene resented the flashy, cheap way the woman dressed, and the flirtatious way she carried on in the presence of men. Then she mentally chastised herself. How could she possibly be so critical of Barbara after what had happened last night?
Barbara stayed only long enough to drink a cup of coffee and invite Arlene over to a party that evening. The last thing in the world Arlene felt like was attending a party – especially one of the typically raucous kind the Carters gave – but she politely accepted, figuring that she could put in a quick appearance and slip quietly home.
She arrived at the party a little before nine. She wondered if she had dressed too sexily. Her dark green, one-piece dress had a hemline halfway up her thighs. The neckline dove all the way down to her navel, exposing the white cleavage between her lovely breasts. She wore black nylons held in place by a frilly garter belt, the snaps becoming exposed whenever she sat or bent low. She had applied more make-up than usual and dabbed herself with an excessive amount of perfume. She told herself she had dressed this way because she knew all the other women at the party would be similarly attired. She wondered if that was really the reason. Had last night's carnal experience with Ralph incited something dark and relentless within her? She refused to give any credence to this idea. The terrible thing that had happened between her and Ralph was history. She would be haunted with guilt for the rest of her life. It was a despicable thing, and she wished she could erase it from her mind.
Yet when she felt Sam Carter's arm slip around her waist an hour after she'd arrived at the party, she was stunned to feel an unwanted wetness gather in her panties. He was just being friendly and she was getting turned on. What was wrong with her?
She drank more Scotch than she should have. Despite feeling giddy, she was able to turn aside Sam's increasingly forceful flirtations with flippant comments. Still, her arousal kept mounting until she was fighting herself more than him. She found his straightforward but light-hearted manner appealing, that and his undeniable manly good looks. He was no more than thirty years old, younger than Arlene. Tall, muscular, rugged features, always casting a virile but somewhat condescending smile.
All around her couples were casting knowing glances, not at their spouses, but at the man or woman they were paired off with at the moment. Arlene wondered how the husbands and wives could let their mates carry on so blatantly. She would never let Hal. Hal would never let her. Once she caught herself leaning hard against Sam, thrilling to the feel of his hip against her waist. It was a definitely sexual sensation, and she quickly pulled away.
Then came two shocks within five minutes of each other. The first was the sight of her friend Madge copulating in the bathroom with someone else's husband. Arlene had been surprised to see them in the semi-dark room – the door hadn't been locked. She stood frozen for several seconds, leaning against the door while watching the fully clothed, perspiring twosome batter each other on the bathroom floor. What kind of a party was this getting to be? Minutes after tearing her excited eyes off the lascivious sight, she encountered her second shock – this far more appalling to her than the first. She had gone alone into the backyard for fresh air, and there she had spied the incredible embrace of her own son and Barbara Carter. They were standing in the shadow of the garage, their mouths open and locked to each other, their tongues dueling. And Barbara was grinding her body against Billy like a common prostitute. It can't be true! Arlene thought. This evil woman with my own son! She almost cried out in rage and disbelief, but somehow she managed to retreat into her neighbor's house unnoticed.
For the next ten minutes she felt numb. She defended herself against Sam's pawing advances again and again. She noted with dismay how other men at the party were fondling friends' wives. It was ugly, depraved. Arlene felt sexually aroused, and she couldn't understand why. The horrible image of her son in Barbara's arms kept flashing through her brain.
"The filthy pig!" she whispered aloud.
"What?" quizzed Sam.
"Nothing, nothing at all!" she replied bitterly to the man who sat beside her on the couch, tapping his fingers on her thigh in time to the stereo. She felt like telling him where his wife was – or had been. What kind of man would let his wife wander off and seduce a teen-age boy? Maybe he didn't care. Maybe he enjoyed having his wife make love with boys. She knew nothing about the way any of these guests thought or acted. She felt so alone, so very, very out of place.
Later she managed to feign a headache and excused herself. Bewildered, dizzy with resentment, she walked across the front lawn to her own home. A dark part of her was comparing the rather harmless embrace between Bill and Barbara with her own bout with Ralph only twenty-four hours earlier. How was she any better than Barbara? She entered her house, unprepared for what awaited her.