THE WIFE
by
M. H. Freedman (copyright 1977 All Rights Reserved)
Stretching languourously between the warm, rumpled
satin sheets, Gloria drowsily eyed a double-image of Biff as he
stepped into trousers before the full-length vanity mirror. Two
broad, bare upper torsos, reflecting the soft glow of pink
boudoir lamps, straightened simultaneously, giving her a view of
muscular splendor in duplicate.
What machismo, she mused appreciatively. And one of
him would be quite enough, if he were hers.
Biff dissolved her wishful thinking by walking over to
the bed, "Check me, will ye, honey?"
A hard knot of fury tightened in Gloria's midriff,
"Check, check, and double-check," she grumbled, her soft oval
face setting in hard lines of annoyance, "your wife have 20/20
vision, or something?"
Angrily tossing back her shoulder-length, blue-black
hair, she pushed herself to a sitting position. As she reached
for the nylon pegnoir alongside the bed, she slowed her
movements to give full, prolonged view to her nude
voluptuousness.
"Grr-ruff," Bill barked jokingly, feinting a pass at
her.
Gloria's anger melted as quickly as a sliver of ice in
a warm drink. Wrapping the gossamer gown loosely about her, she
glanced over one shoulder, stroking it suggestively,
"You could stay the night. He never gets back until
noon."
"Uh-uh, no tempting. How would I explain that empty
bed of mine at home?"
He turned up his hands in a gesture of defeat and gave
her one of his irresistible smiles.
"Now come on, check me, will ya please?"
Gloria gritted her sharp sparkling-white teeth in
vexation as she looked him over. Half-heartedly, she wiped a
Kleenex over an orange-red lipstick smear on his right shoulder.
"There. Inspection complete."
Biff glanced toward the spot doubtfully, "Better use soap
and water," he said, heading for the bathroom.
"Can't be too careful, can we, dear," she called after
him sarcastically?
"I'm not looking for trouble."
Trouble. Gloria flung herself back on the bed and beat
the mattress with her fists. Trouble spelled w-i-f-e.
Oh, how she detested that woman. Better the kind of
wife she herself, call it what you like, than one of those
snoopy, suspicious home jailers. Damn, but it made her furious
to think how careful he had to be; how scared to leave any trace
they'd been together. Why did some women have to be such jealous
cats? It made her want to scream, scream, scream!
But as Biff returned to the room to finish dressing,
she quickly simmered down, scowling.
"Hey," he said, buttoning his shirt, "don't look so
put out.There's always the next time, you know."
He added a wink above the broad smile as he slipped
into his jacket. Coming over to the bed, he threw her a kiss,
"Till then."
"Biff,"' Gloria's arms eagerly reached up to him.
"Baby, baby, " he dissuaded her, " didn't I just
remove the evidence? Not looking for trouble, remember?"
Throwing her another kiss, he turned and walked out of
the bedroom.
As the door closed behind him hot tears of fury
flooded Gloria's eyes. Oh, the trouble she'd like to give him.
Him and that wife of his. One of these days she'd send him home
with a tell-tale mark, the kind there could be no erasing....
But even as she planned the revenge, she knew she
wouldn't do anything to endanger their relationship.
Opportunities to meet were better than ever, what with Harold
going more and more frequently to home office meetings in New
York, such a safe distance from them here in Chicago. She had
his schedule down pat, so who could ask for a neater set-up? It
was just the thought of Biff's small-minded wife that bothered
her so.
Gradually,fatigue subdued her sharp resentment and she
drifted off into the soothing, rythmic sea of sleep.
**********
An awareness of someone stirring in the shadowy room
jolted her upright. Early morning light filtered through the
drapes as she clutched the covers about her nude body, hoarsely
calling out,
"Who's there?"
"It's only me."
She recognized the usual dull monotone of Harold's
voice.
"Oh," Gloria sank back on the pillow, annoyed at
having been awakened.
(At the same time, she made a mental note not to count
on his noon return again.)
"How come you're back so early?"
"Well, we just worked right on through till it got so
darn late? I decided to take the night plane back. This way I
can shower and change and still make it down to the office
before noon."
His conversation droned on and on covering
conferences, business problems, the usual hodge-podge. Gloria
listened with half an ear, idly watching him undress. She
couldn't resist comparing his soft, puffy, pasty-white body to
Biff's magnificently masculine physique.
Suddenly, however, she cut her comparisons off and sat
up. Rubbing her eyes free of sleep, she leaned forward, focused
them intently on a blemish at the side of his neck. Though the
light was dim she knew what she was looking at: there was no
mistaking the purple-red bite marks....
A low sound rumbled in her throat. Flinging aside the
covers, she sprang like a jungle beast sinking long nails into
his soft flesh. Clawing, kicking, scratching, she screamed with
the fury of all women betrayed,
"You bastard, you rotten, cheating bastard, you!"
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