Sid Farmer - Hot and horny weekend

"No, I'm not, really…" Bill's assurance was unconvincing. He talked like a man who didn't want to be reminded of his danger. "And you getting hysterical is not going to help matters."

Laura took her arms from around his neck, and moved across to sit on the bed. She was hurt by his unwillingness to share his trouble with her, and she was hurt by the distance he seemed to be putting between them.

"I… I didn't mean to get hysterical, darling. I'm sorry."

Bill turned to his wife, and then moved to her side, laying an impersonal hand on her head as though it might comfort her.

"I know, honey. I'm just a little upset, you know. But don't forget, nothing may happen in Dallas at all. There's just a chance that it will – but that's the chance we've been living with for the past year, isn't it?"

Laura looked up, and nodded mutely.

"O.K., so let's not worry until there's something to worry about. Life is too short. Now come on, we've left George in the front room."

Laura rose, and followed her husband into the living room. George Farrington got up when they came in, and she moved across the room to him.

"I'm sorry, George, but I guess we'll have to take a rain check on our night out tonight. Maybe when Bill gets back from Dallas."

"Not at all," George replied, and turned to Bill with a twinkle in his eye. "Shall I tell her?"

Bill nodded slightly as he finished his drink.

"Your traveling husband and I talked it over in the car and decided that you shouldn't miss a party just because your old man is out of town." George's smile never faded as he talked. "Abby and I will take you to the club without him. The table has already been reserved and everything has been especially ordered. Besides, I'm still not too old to squire two women at once, if it's only for one night."

"Oh, George, I don't know," Laura started, but he interrupted.

"Don't be ridiculous. I've already talked to Abby. She's been spending the last three hours getting ready for this. She doesn't mind sharing me for part of one evening. So you can't say no," he said, taking her hand warmly.

"In that case, Mr. Farrington, I simply cannot refuse," Laura said dramatically. "What time will you call, sir?"

"At eight sharp. Can you be ready, Madam?"

"Of course," she answered.

"Enough is enough for both of you lovers," Bill broke in, "I've got a jet to catch. Come on, George, let's get a move on. George is taking me to the plane, honey."

Laura walked her husband to the door and kissed him goodbye, feeling his impatience to leave as he drew away from her. She watched him walk to George's car and stood in the doorway, her arms hanging limply at her side.

"See you at eight," George shouted.

She nodded and smiled, watching the white convertible back from the driveway onto the street and roar off toward the corner and the airport. Goodnight, Bill, she thought and turned back into the house closing the door behind her, conscious of a single tear that had dropped to her cheek. A deep sense of loneliness rippled through her, a loneliness she had been carrying with her since their move to Oak Park, a loneliness that her husband had been too busy to recognize, and too preoccupied to relieve her of.

Two hours later, George and Abby Farrington shared a small pitcher of Martinis in their bedroom as George dressed. Abby sat on the bed, propped up against the headboard with a large pillow behind her. At thirty six, she looked every bit as good as the younger Laura, but her own self criticism and fear of growing older sometimes blinded her to that fact. Her black hair was cut in the latest style and she wore a miniskirt that revealed a year-round tan on her full and sensual thighs. Nearly every man she came into contact with looked at her with more than just idle curiosity.

"It's working out better than we thought," the exotic woman said. "Do you think she's ready?"

"Ripe for plucking," George said, smiling at his pun.

"You are too, too funny," Abby said. "I hope you're right, though."

"Have I ever been wrong about a woman before?" he said, not waiting for an answer. "You should have seen the look on her face when we drove away. Laura is the loving wife all right, but she's been so neglected by Bill that there won't be any trouble at all. And even if there is, I can change her mind. With what I know about Bill, I could convince her of anything. No, sweetheart, getting her hot little body between the sheets will be no trouble at all."

"No, I suppose not, darling, not with that fatal charm of yours," his beautiful wife answered with a slight tone of sarcasm.

"But don't forget your part in the plan," George said, ignoring her jibe. "Bill probably won't be that easy."

"Don't be so sure of yourself, George Farrington. With the right treatment, he'll probably be as easy as you were," she said with a coquettish smile. "I can show him one hell of a lot more than that pretty little wife of his, and I'll bet he knows it. You saw how attentive he was the last time they were here. If you hadn't said no, I would have taken him to bed right then."

"You are anxious, aren't you?"

"Jealous?"

"A little, perhaps, but I always am, for a moment at least. But that doesn't last longer than it takes me to get into the sack with your friends' wives." George finished adjusting his tie and brushed back the grey at his temples with his hands. "I wonder how she's going to react when I tell her you have a migrain? And," he added as an afterthought, "Wherever you go tonight, stay on the other side of town, away from the club. If she saw you it might ruin everything."

"Don't worry, I'll stay away from your precious little game. I should find entertainment somewhere tonight, like maybe over at the Lessing's house. There's always more than enough excitement there."

"Well, don't let your excitement stay too long if you bring him home. I'll be back before three. O.K.?"

"O.K." Abby laughed. "Come give Momma a good night kiss."

George crossed over to the bed, leaned down, and gave his wife a playful kiss on the cheek.

"Good night, baby," he smiled. "Don't do anything you'll be ashamed of later."

"Fat chance," Abby laughed.

Laura had been ready for twenty minutes when she heard George knocking at the door. She gulped the last of her Martini, her fourth since her husband had left, and walked rather unsteadily to the front door.

"Good evening, fair damsel," George smiled as the front door opened. "Your pumpkin has just arrived."

"Ah, wonderful," Laura replied, laughing. "Let me just get my mink." She moved across to the sofa and picked up her rather faded cloth coat, slinging it over her arm. "Shouldn't need this, I just take it for effect."

"My lady, if you'll pardon my saying so, your mink looks like rabbit."

"And my rabbit looks like hell, I know," Laura giggled.

"But you look stunning."

"Why sir, how gallant of you."

As they walked out the door, George told her that Abby had a terrible migrain and wouldn't be with them. Laura thought it was strange that Abby should get a headache on a night like this, especially after spending all afternoon getting ready. Nothing seems to be happening right today, she thought with a slightly audible sigh. Well, I hope nothing else goes wrong.

"Well, George," she said with a forced smile, "we may as well enjoy our evening alone. Two stood-up people have to do the best they can."

He smiled at her as he closed the door of the convertible, then walked to the other side. Once seated, he started the big engine and pulled away from the curb.

Laura usually paid attention when George drove. She thought he was still a teenager at heart, the way he sped through residential areas, not to mention the ninety mile an hour rides on the freeways, but tonight she didn't care how he drove. Her thoughts were centered around Bill and her marriage. Confused and hurt, she had no idea how to recapture her husband from his work. She decided that she didn't care about the money, about the past, their problems, anything. She wanted her husband back. He had been a stranger too long, she thought almost desperately.