Unknown - Sally_s Secret Lover

She entered the darkened room and moved methodically about her task of taking ice cubes from the plastic bucket on the dresser and stuffing them into the round ice bag.

«Who was that on the phone?» Lauralee murmured weakly from the bed, squinting her red, aching eyes against even the dim light that filtered through the heavy drapes.

«Mr. Blodgett,» Eula said shortly, «wanted to talk to Tully.»

She moved to her mistress's side and gently smoothed back the blonde hair that was piled high atop Lauralee's small, well-shaped head. The woman's face was a sick gray beneath her deep tan and the absence of any make-up revealed a network of fine, nearly invisible wrinkles at the corners of her wide blue eyes, as well as a faint sagging of the flesh beneath her tiny chin. Even like this, she could still be considered attractive, particularly if one passed over the dull, ashen face to the sun-browned body which was still youthfully firm and slender. Beneath the filmy peach-colored nightgown the outlines of a full swelling bosom were delineated, right to the dark, slightly withered nipples. Her hands, with long blood-red nails in startling contrast to the pastel shades of the room and the wan features of their owner, twisted nervously in her lap. Very gently the maid lowered the ice bag to the woman's forehead, adjusting it to conform to her browline.

«Fix me some tomato juice, will you?» Lauralee instructed. «Someone told me the other day that tomato juice was good for a hangover. God, it can't hurt to try …» she grimaced in pain.

«Yes, Ma'am,» Eula said, «you want some toast with it? You got to try to eat something.»

«No, not yet … I couldn't. What's the matter, Eula – are you crying?»

«Why, no, Ma'am,» Eula brushed her cheek, trying to smile and failing.

«You are! Now, come on, what is it? I want you to tell me, Eula.»

«It's nothing, honest. Just I was a little worried about somethin', that's all.»

«All right, what are you worried about? I won't be able to rest until I know, so you might as well come out with it.» Lauralee was never able to abide a secret, she had a child's unquenchable desire to pry into everything, whether it concerned her or not. «Is it because we're going away?»

«No'm, I'm just worried about somethin' I heard Mr. Blodgett say … just now, on the phone. I was listening,» she admitted, the wish to share her secret terrible knowledge with someone else overpowering her sense of discretion.

«Well, what did he say?» cried the exasperated Lauralee, wincing as darts of pain shot through her skull.

«He told Tully he wanted him to fetch some Spanish Fly, 'n bring it to town right away, to the bank.»

«S-spanish Fly?» She could not help but smile slightly at the mention of the stuff. The very words had a lewd connotation, of whispered unmentionable things that passed furtively between children sharing their back-alley-acquired sexual information and misinformation.

«What would that do to a woman, if she took some of that Spanish Fly?» Eula inquired earnestly. It would set her crazy, wouldn't it, Miss Lauralee?»

«I-I don't know. We used to hear things, when we were kids, but I never knew of an actual cases … I know it's dangerous to take too much, though. But what makes you think of that? All the farmers around here use it, so it's not unusual that John would ask Tully to fetch some …» but as she tried to make light of the girl's suspicions, it occurred to Lauralee that it was rather a funny request, and might indeed be an indication of some deviltry. God knew, her husband was capable of many things … Eula had no business listening on the extension … probably did it all the time, listened to her calls, too, the little sneak … but why the hell was she worried enough to cry over it?

«I know, but Mr. Blodgett said …» the maid began fearfully, «he told me the other day there was this certain lady who was givin' him a hard time about something and he was gonna have to do something about it. A- an' I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to this lady … l-like the others,» she added in a low, monotonous voice.

«What others?» through her jarring, all-pervading headache, something was beginning to get through to Lauralee Blodgett that here was no ordinary household crisis, but something deeper and darker, of ominous proportions. She had long ago gotten used to Eula's extraordinary beauty, or so she thought, but now she was noting it all over again … the flawless dusky skin … the body that was so harmoniously molded, the thick black hair that glimmered in loose waves … the dark red, trembling lips. She was almost positive now that Eula was making some reference to the amorous exploits of her husband … well, she knew he had them, had known for years that he would chase any skirt on the horizon. They had had a sort of mutual understanding, never spelled out but honored on both sides, don't tell me and I won't tell you. Because she had done her share of playing around … seldom now, though. It was such a small town and their friends were really a very limited circle … not much opportunity for new conquests, and lately, with the drinking, she hadn't cared very much about the lack of different talent. She'd always supposed John would have the sense to be discrete about anything he got mixed up in … the Quigg name still counted for something around here and marriage to her meant that he had to conduct himself accordingly … John knew that. And if he'd been screwing Eula behind her back, making a fool out of his wife in her own ancestral home and creating gossip about them in town … she'd kill him, that's all … she'd kill him! And she goddamn well knew he had been screwing the little bitch … else why would he discuss other women with Eula … or Eula be scared out of her cotton-picking wits?

Forcing the excruciating pain of her throbbing head and the queasy condition of her dry, empty stomach from her thoughts, she sat up straight against the pillows, with a regal gesture. «Get me a drink, you little fool!»

«Miz Blodgett! You hadn't better have any whiskey yet!»

«I said to get me a drink.»

The harried black girl rushed to comply, seeing that Miss Lauralee was determined to have it and knowing that thwarting her would only make matters worse for herself. She brought back an old-fashioned glass half full of whiskey and handed it silently to her mistress. Lauralee tilted her head back and swallowed the liquid straight. A drop escaped from the quivering corner of her parched lips and she wiped it away with the back of a red-nailed hand. As the burning fluid coiled warmly within her belly she felt steadier within seconds … her ragged nerves steadying.

«Now, Eula,» she began in a more conciliatory tone, «there's nothing to be scared of. I'm not going to be angry with you, but I just want you to tell me all about what's bothering you … tell it right from the beginning.»

«Yes, Ma'am,» the maid murmured, head down. An overpowering sense of relief at the prospect of ridding herself of the burden of guilt nearly overcame her. She started twice and had to stop. At last the words of confession began to flow. «The beginning? … That was a long time ago, Miss Lauralee. Yes, ma'am, the bad things have been goin' on for a long time …»

The best I ever had, Tully Fairchild told himself contentedly, the absolute fucking best. He lay prone for several seconds, awash in the euphoric sea of satisfaction and drained as he had never been before in a sexual encounter. At last he moved, heaving his big frame clumsily off the bed to reach for his hastily discarded clothing. In the process, he half-turned around and he halted right there in a grotesque position, and stared at the trio of men filling the doorway. Shit … they'd fooled him good … he'd never figured on putting on no peep- show. That cussed Blodgett and his brother-in-law had followed him over here to gawk at the action … well, 'tween him and the dog he guessed they'd seen enough to raise a couple of good hardons! But by God, the other guy – he was the fucking bitch's husband!