Raymond Travis - The seductive sister-in-law

Kent returned home late Friday night, drunk as usual, and had turned into bed not noticing Betty still lying awake beside him. She looked over at his heavily breathing body and the unopened suitcase standing by the door. The usual questions drifted through her mind: where had he been? Had his trip to Chicago actually lasted as long as he would explain tomorrow morning? After only a few hours sleep she awoke and went into the kitchen to make breakfast. Saturday. The breeze blowing in the half-opened kitchen window felt cool, but the sun had risen over the thick shield of pine at the top of the yard, already a brightening orange disk that threatened a hot August day.

"Some lousy convention," Kent groaned and sat down at the table a few minutes after she had begun boiling his eggs and prepared coffee.

Kent liked to be eased out of a hangover he always said, rather than jolted into the weekend with slabs of french toast and maple syrup. She set his soft-boiled egg onto a dish before him.

"Makham split the Conrad account. We didn't do so badly," he cleared his throat, peering into his coffee as though trying to catch his own grim morning-after reflection. "But I get so frigging tired of his Executive Accountant's face kissing up to everybody like a puppy dog."

"Is that all you have to say about ten days in Chicago?" she smiled across the table at him.

"Betty, if you don't mind," he said in a voice that seemed too tired to offer anything more than a small reproach. "Let's drop the subject. Hope you had a nice time, all quiet around here, I guess?"

She nodded limply. The rest of breakfast was eaten in silence. A half-hour later he was out the door, a golf bag slung over his shoulder. "Be back by four or five o'clock," he said, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. "If anything comes up, I'll call you."

At five-thirty he did call, saying he'd be out until late that evening as he had run into some clients from New York who wanted to talk over investment shares in the company. All of this seemed plausible, probable in fact… but Betty Howard was slowly being moved to the point where she could no longer take any chances. Too much was at stake to let her marriage dissipate when she had been forewarned of impending trouble. She resolved to go to the party if only to see for herself whether Kent had made an appearance. She became tense as the night approached and she drank two very dry martinis after her solitary dinner to soothe her nerves a bit. It did seem odd, she remarked to herself as she dressed, that she was so excited about going to Shirley and Bob's only for a quick anonymous appearance. She hoped that the lighting was dim enough that her presence wouldn't be too obvious. She pulled on the white sleeveless form-fitting sheath that she had picked up at Mrs. Fergusson's a few weeks past and quickly surveyed herself in the bedroom mirror; as Kent, in an earlier time might have remarked, she had never looked more beautiful. Her trim smoothly tapering legs flowed down from lushly curving hips and her firm uplifting breasts stood out just perfectly beneath the tightly pressing material. God! What was the matter with her!! Her mind raced. She went into the kitchen and made another martini. It was her third and she felt more relaxed after finishing half of it, yet as she walked out to the station wagon she sensed a warm tingling of expectancy in herself that made her somewhat uncomfortable.

From the second floor landing Betty could hear loud music and laughter coming from the hallway and she was met at the top of the stairs by a burly man in costume garb who handed her a mask. Behind him she could see that the entire corridor had been made into a dance floor: brightly lit Chinese lanterns hung from strings draped in colored crepe paper, and the doors of the two apartments occupying the building's third level were flung open disclosing the obscured forms of figures dressed in costume like the man in front of her.

"Put on the mask," the man said, making a gesture for her to pass by him. "No one needs to know who you are."

"I didn't know this was a masquerade," Betty smiled nervously and pulled the white cameo-like mask over her face.

"Yeah," the man laughed hoarsely. "That's why I'm standing at the top of the stairs."

She walked down the hallway, pushing through elaborately costumed dancers, and headed toward Bob's apartment. A tug on her arm pulled her backward and she turned toward a man dressed in a skeleton-suit and mask who quickly handed her a drink.

"This will help for awhile," Bob's voice came out muffled. "You know that mask you're wearing has a place for breathing and a place for drinking."

"Is he here?" Betty came directly to the point. "I just want to see if he had the nerve."

Bob gestured her off the dance floor to a makeshift bar where couples were lined up waiting for the masked barman to supply them with refreshments. "Look, do you want to simply see that he's here, or do you want to find out what he's going to be doing and who he'll be doing it with?"

Betty didn't answer.

"We can't just go ogling at people. I just got here myself," he exclaimed, raising up his hands in frustration. "If you want to do it right, let's just take our time and act like part of the crowd. We don't want to give ourselves away."

"Alright," she acquiesced. "But only to see what I came for and nothing else."

In spite of the light-headed sensation the martinis had left her with, she could feel a small knot of fear growing in her stomach. There was no way of knowing whether this was a trick on the part of Bob just to get her over here. Still, the evidence from her earlier experiences – seeing Kent and Shirley in the backyard wrapped nakedly around each other, and Kent's ten days at the convention – was just a bit too much against him and if he were here it would take all the willpower she had not to turn loose on him and begin berating him right in front of the other guests. At any rate, she thought as she walked down the corridor with Bob Howard, it's too late now.

They turned in the door to the apartment adjoining Bob's and moved to a small love-seat in the corner of the room. "Friend of mine, Jake Roberts, went in on the housewarming. This is his place," Bob remarked, settling down beside Betty on the couch.

Betty looked around the crowded room for a sign of her husband, but most of the costumes were so elaborate that it would be impossible to find him in the dim lighting unless he were pointed out. From observing the trim physiques of the men and the daring outfits the women were wearing, she decided that most of them were from around the community of Bellows: young executive types with a few airline stewardesses and college students thrown in. She watched Bob raise the glass to his lips and take a deep swallow and she did the same, glad to have something in her hand to stop her from shaking. She was surprised at first by the cool licorice taste bubbling down her throat. She had expected something much stronger to be served at a party like this. She tipped the glass again, her throat parched from nervousness and the several martinis she had drunk at home by herself while preparing for the party.

"Go slow on that stuff," Bob said, chuckling boyishly. "It packs a pretty good punch after a couple."

"What is it? It tastes good, like a liqueur," she mumbled with a full mouth.

"Pernod. Absinthe. Real exotic after dinner drink imported from Spain. Van Gogh drank it and it made him go crazy," he quipped and finished off his glass.

"If that's the case," Betty said. "You can just drink mine for me."

"Now, baby," Bob said and laughed reassuringly. "Taste that stuff. Do you think you'll flip after one evening on Pernod. Goddamn it, I was only kidding."

She leaned back and rested against Bob's arm, feeling more relaxed and slightly lightheaded. The drink certainly did taste different, but it wasn't really strong flavored and it didn't dull her head as the martinis had earlier. The glow was there but it seemed to bring her senses more alive rather than to dull them. A strange new giddiness seemed to pervade her whole body and she sipped heavily again as she felt Bob's arm wrap gently around her shoulder. She pushed it off with a gentle movement of her hand. "Bob, I don't see any reason to get too cozy," she scolded, good-naturedly sensing that strange giddiness she had felt moments before.