Simon Jillson - Driven To Depravity

"How's the sexiest chef in the world?" Mark asked, wrapping his arms around her. He slid one hand inside the front of her robe and cupped her breast.

Judy lurched with surprise, and guilt, then leaned back against him for a delicious, fleeting moment. "She's going to burn something if her husband doesn't unhand her."

"Humph," he grunted, giving the side of her neck a kiss.

"Have a nice nap?" she asked after he let her go.

"Ummm hmmm," he acknowledged.

"Feeling better?"

"For now…"

Judy bit her lip. She knew what the rest of the statement was – "Wish it could last."

"What's for dinner?" Mark asked at last.

"Chili."

"Again?"

"On rice. Makes the meat go farther."

"Goody, goody," Mark sighed. "Christ, I wish I could have a drink!"

Judy shook her head. "No."

"I know. No alcohol, no coffee, no tea, no cola beverages," Mark recited grimly. "I never have smoked. What's left in life, anyway?"

"Sex, of course," Judy answered easily, carrying the food to the table.

"Thank God for that," Mark said heartily, pulling his chair out. He stared pensively at his plate.

On a sudden impulse, Judy bowed her head and did something she hadn't done since she was a child. "For that which we are about to receive, we thank Thee," she muttered. "Amen." And God forgive me for what I have done, she added silently.

Mark looked startled. "Grace?" he asked in surprise.

Judy shrugged, not meeting his eyes. "Thought we might as well get all the help we can," she answered.

Mark began eating. "You really think you can pull off this real estate deal?" he asked between bites.

Judy picked at her dinner. "I have to."

"I know you have to," Mark replied. "But do you think you can?"

Judy slapped her spoon onto the steaming plate of chili and rice as if she were trying to kill it. "I have got to do it! I will do it! I will, I will, I will!"

"Okay, okay," Mark soothed.

"Sorry," she apologized.

He touched her hand tenderly. "It's all right. God, I wish I could tell you, or show you, just how much it all means to me – all the things you've done for me."

The knife turned in Judy's guilt-ridden guts. "Just keep on living, that's all I ask. If-if you go and die on me, I'll never speak to you again!"

Mark smiled. They had made that joke before. "When do you meet with the buyer?" he asked.

"Tomorrow at one," she answered. "I'm going to show him the house then."

"How are the chances?" he asked. "Honest injun."

Judy shook her head. "I don't know. Mr. McCarter wants something a little more traditional. The Shein place is very modern. It is the right size, and it has a pool, and an incredible view. The price is a little high. I don't know."

They were both silent for a while.

"But I've got to sell it! I've just got to!" she said softly.

They finished dinner in silence.

"Are you sure you'll be all right?" Judy asked, concerned.

"I'll be all right!" Mark snapped. "Go on, get the hell out of here."

"But…"

"If you don't go, you'll lose the sale for sure," Mark argued. "And if you do, what will happen to me then will make today look like a tea party. Right?"

"Yes," she agreed softly. "But still…"

"Go," he snorted. "Go. There's nothing you can do for me here anyway.

Now go, already, before you're late."

Judy opened her mouth, then closed it. There was nothing to say. Her feet dragging, she turned, picked up her purse and left the house. Once behind the wheel of the car, she sobbed once. Furious with herself, she coaxed the car to life, blinking back her tears.

Mark was being consumed by a terrible agony. They were stretching the time between treatments much too far, and they both knew it. They were buying desperately needed time, but at a dreadful cost to Mark.

Judy had wanted to get an emergency appointment and take Mark to the hospital today. This time, though, he was the strong one, and refused.

He insisted that the situation with McCarter and Shein was too delicate to risk any postponements or cancellations of appointments. Judy knew he was right, which made what she had to do harder.

She fogged the streets with pollution as she headed for her rendezvous with McCarter. He was waiting in front of his office when she pulled up and double-parked.

"Here I am, Mr. McCarter," she called out cheerily, leaning across the seat.

The well-dressed man eyed her car dubiously. "Would it be better if we took my car?" he asked.

Judy studied him. His wavy red hair was meticulously arranged. He was a big, strapping Irishman, or at least Irish-looking, with fair skin and freckles and blue eyes. His lightweight suit was beautifully and expensively tailored, the shirt and tie color coordinated. Definitely an impressive man.

"Okay," he agreed, opening the door. It let out a groan of protest.

"Just look out for that broken spring," she warned, motioning toward the sharp wire sticking up from the center of the seat.

Andrew McCarter leaned tentatively against the door, then checked that it was closed tightly before putting his full weight against it. As she pulled out into the traffic, Judy was conscious of the man's careful appraisal of her.

"Must inhibit snuggling at the drive-in," McCarter commented.

"What?" Judy asked, puzzled.

"The broken spring," McCarter explained. "Must get in the way when you're with your husband."

"Oh, we use the back seat," Judy said absently. Then she realized what she had said and blushed furiously.

"Ah ha," the red-haired man responded with a grin.

Judy changed the subject. "I'm sure you'll be pleased with the house," she said. "It is a bit more modern than you indicated, I admit. But it has all the features you asked for, including a swimming pool."

"The cost is a little high," he noted.

"I think it's worth it," Judy stated confidently, guiding the car around a corner. The engine labored as they headed up into the hills.

"I'm certain you'll find it worth the extra money."

"Mmmmm," McCarter replied noncommittally, watching the scenery.

When his eyes shifted back to Judy, she felt it and fought the urge to squirm. Fearful of babbling unnecessarily, she held her tongue. Her small size made it necessary for her to sit up very straight to see out of the car. She knew he was studying her trim torso and the way her blouse molded to her breasts. As usual, she wore no bra. She felt a hot flush burn her cheeks.

It was a relief when they reached the Shein house. She located the key where Mr. Shein had left it and managed to unlock the big door. Pushing it open, she stepped aside to let McCarter go first.

He held back. "It's very modern," he noted.

"But very comfortable," Judy countered quickly. "There's none of the coldness or sterility you find in most contemporary houses."

"We'll see," McCarter replied. He stepped through the big doorway.

She escorted him through the house, saying no more than she had to. Her brief experience at selling houses had convinced her it was better to let the house itself do the talking. She tried to gauge the big man's mood, but wasn't successful. She found herself wondering just how he would look without any clothes on, and blushed again. Andrew McCarter was impressive – over six feet tall and very well built. He appeared very trim, he must work to keep himself in shape. His shoulders were broad, his belly firm, with no hint of a paunch.

Finally they wandered out along the length of the deck surrounding the pool. McCarter leaned his big hands on the railing and looked out over the valley. There was a thirty foot drop to the hillside below.

"Very impressive," he acknowledged.

Judy had her back on the scenery. She was more interested in what was going on in Andrew McCarter's head. She leaned back against the railing, her hands gripping the redwood behind her. She had her graceful legs crossed. The breeze from the valley stirred her short skirt and teased the hair at the back of her neck gently.