Norman Singer: The Hungry Husband

After Linda returned home from the hospital, there were several weeks of disturbing phone-calls and letters from Darlene Morrison. Finally, when Linda told the girl there was no hope of ever putting her new baby up for adoption, Darlene stated some new requests, calling them "consolation prizes." If she couldn't claim full-time ownership to one of Linda's babies, why not part-time control of all of them?

"Let me go to work in your house as the children's governess, Linda!.. I swear, you'll never regret it!"

Coolly, Linda had asked for some time to think this over. And when she thought about the idea, it was the girl she considered, not the children's needs, nor Darlene's professional aptitudes. She thought of Darlene herself, the lithesome one, and thought of their soft supple hours together. Linda refused to dwell on the alternative threats involved here, or what might happen if she refused the girl's request. Hostility and tension would arise if they discussed exactly what Darlene would do if Linda closed all doors to her, and Linda was too excited by the prospect of having this mercurial being in her house every day to want to kill their mutual sparks with quarrels or recriminations.

When she discussed the matter with David, she found him as passive and trusting as ever. She knew, of course, that she didn't deserve such faithful worship from the poor dear cuckold, but, nevertheless, clung to it for dear life.

"I'm planning to discharge Flora, David," she told him one evening. "She's getting on now, you know, and now that there are four children to take care of instead of three… well, we need someone younger and more vigorous…"

"You do what you think best, darling," he said, lending her cheek a stiff upper-lip. "The servant-problem is your domain, and I trust you implicitly in that department."

"Well I…" She cleared her throat. "I already have a girl in mind. She comes with excellent references. Been working in a day-nursery in San Francisco for five years, and I… I saw her at the employment agency. She's very bright and attractive, and… she's colored, David. A light Negro girl. Do you mind?"

"Don't be silly, Linda," he chuckled. "Like a lot of other American men these days, I've learned that brown can be quite beautiful."

Suddenly she caught his eyes and held them. "Then you do want the very best for our children, don't you, David?"

He returned her gaze, calmly, blandly. "I want them to have everything we've built here, Linda, everything we are. Now and in the future."

She gave him her Madonna-grimace. "You're so good, David."

"And you, my pet, are true."

Although it was a Tuesday, the solid young-marrieds were convivial that night… a Lucky-Linda-Special. However, since it was important to David that she still see him as the same neat and limited automaton she'd housebroken at the altar, David dutifully refrained from sludging it from side-to-side or doing anything too damp. At one point when she pretended to gasp with pain, David was positive she was yawning. Well, his heart went out to the poor, repressed girl, but his passions for her would still remain military, filial and chained… Ahh dear friend of my sunset years ahead, we are interweaving poetry and we are valentines, and for us Life's Highway is a trailing pastorale. Lovers are elsewhere… and they're for me alone, trapped housewife, not you!

"Ooh, what a lovely, quiet room!" said Darlene a few days later. Linda was installing her as the children's governess, showing her the house and the bed sitting-room that was to be hers. The two women stood on the threshold together, close enough for their hands to touch, but abstaining. Darlene looked eager and vibrant, with her flowing russet hair, her coffee and cream complexion. Linda went a little breathless as she tried to visualize what it would mean to have this provocative creature in her house every day, so ready and able to do her bidding.

Seeing that the girl carried only a mammoth purse, Linda asked if she expected the rest of her luggage later.

"Oh honey, you must be kidding!" Darlene laughed, gently squeezing the hand of her new mistress. "I'm not gonna sleep in. Just five days a week, and I hightail it back to the city every evening. I've got a husband to think of, you know. Johnny's back working days now, and that sex-maniac wants me in bed with him every night of our lives. Thai's what yow husband wants from you, isn't it, sweetie?"

Darlene's expression was arch and meaningful, but barely suggested all the varied combustibilities of their situation.

Yet, Linda felt moved to protest this decision for purely domestic reasons. "But the babies will need attention during the night too, Darlene. I thought surely you knew that…"

Darlene emitted a friendly chuckle. "You mean that lovin' husband of yours wouldn't dash into the nursery and pick up his youngest whenever he hears her wailin'? After all, honey, she's his pet brunette, isn't she?"

Linda went tense and turned her eyes away. "That was uncalled for, Darlene. It's simply that we've always had someone here all night, and… I'd feel safer if we continued that policy."

"Oh well, it shouldn't be too difficult to find a night-nurse for the kids, someone to take over after I go home…"

Linda glared at her, wanting to tell her what an outrageous demand this was. Then her eyes trailed downward to the voluptuous pout of girlish bosom, and up again to the full, red mouth. And Linda remembered all the artful graces of this girl, and smiled. "A night-nurse. Of course! Why didn't I think of that?" Then she gazed at the full-sized bed. "It would have been a pity to let all that comfort go to waste."

Darlene's eyes followed hers to the bed. "Oh no, darlin', that's not goin' to waste. In fact, it'll be gettin' double-duty, if you know what I mean."

Linda met her eyes, and felt a sudden chilling tremor about the thighs. "No, Darlene, I… I don't know what you mean."

Darlene edged her body forward until the two women touched at their most bosomly points, the girl's voice low, furtive… "In the early afternoon, when Janice and Larry are still in school and the babies are having their nap… think of it, Linda-between one and three in the sunshiny daylight. Us. Here. Ballin' ourselves silly five times a week…!"

Trembling, Linda had to grip the girl's hand to steady herself.

When David met Darlene later, he heartily approved: "She looks like just the girl to get things done around here, darling. She's so young and energetic, I'm sure it'll take a load off your mind just having her here…"

David now saw his house as a well-staffed, rock-bound citadel of decorum, and with Linda nailed safely to the cross of her transgressions, he was ready to investigate some untapped variations of the double standard.

Valerie again. Never very far from his mind, that elegant instigator, his lady of the sewage. Valerie, who had led him to the others. God, what a chorus-line, dancing and dangling and beckoning in the dreams of him, the moist nocturnal fancies… voices and tongues thick with gloating sex-entendre… daring him, jeering… And she was the crux.

He couldn't remember how long he'd been carrying the slip of paper in his wallet… the phone-number, the combination of digits that would whirl him into orbit once more. Umm!.. But newly now, more deeply astray than ever. The notorious choice.

Luscious pimp-body Valerie and her nefarious wheel-of-fortune, spinning him towards this destiny…

It was during his lunch-hour one day that David finally decided to make the call. He stole secretively to a distant phone-booth on Market Street, nervous and oh fire again with the threat of danger, the adventure of desire. He pulled out the long torn portion of The Gash Gazette, running his finger down the line of ads, canceling out one, then another. At last his eyes reached the ad he knew he'd been born to answer: "Active Male Stud-Well Endowed-Tall and Tan and Hung and Versatile-Available for Straight, Bi, and Gay Guys and Gals-24-hour service."