"I know. But it isn't Bali either!"
The waiter, though, kept his eyes modestly averted as she swept into
the restaurant on McDermott's arm. It was a Park Avenue restaurant so
costly that even she had only been there once before, and McDermott
had reserved a table that placed them practically in the center of the
room, where all eyes were drawn to the milky loveliness of Laura's
bosom.
She enjoyed the attention. Holding her cocktail aloft, she would lean
forward, until her breasts came within an ace of popping out of their
confinement altogether, and she could almost hear the _oohs_ and _ahhs_
all over the restaurant. McDermott, smiling, seemed to drink her with
his eyes. He told her at least a dozen times how happy he was that she
could join him for a second night.
It was a long meal. There were innumerable entrees and cocktails,
and with the main dish came rare wine, and with the coffee there was
cognac. Laura felt mildly dizzy, even though she had eaten sparingly
and left her wine unfinished. She felt tremendously relaxed and happy,
except for the one nagging thought that if she married Dan she would
probably never eat at a place like this again, where the menu did not
deign to make mention of price, and where a dinner for two could easily
run to sixty or seventy dollars.
In the taxi on the way back to the Whittier, McDermott turned to her
and kissed her, his tongue gliding into her mouth and his hand seeking
beneath the lace until it came to rest cupping the warm, soft bulk of
her breasts. Only when he attempted to slide one hand under her dress
did she stop him. The taxi driver was covertly watching in his mirror,
she was sure. Delicately Laura took McDermott's hand away from her
thighs, and they straightened up. "We don't want to look sloppy in the
hotel lobby," she whispered, and he nodded and smiled.
Once they were in the room, though, there were no such restraints. He
pulled her tight against him, grinding his loins against hers, and
while one hand cupped her breasts the other ducked under the hem of her
gown in back, swooping upward and into her panties to grip the cool
flesh of her buttocks. They remained glued together for a long moment,
McDermott finally breaking away. He looked flushed and excited. Laura
wondered distantly whether he might not have a weak heart. So much
excitement would be dangerous for him, then. And it would be awkward if
he happened to have a heart attack while she was with him.
He was on the phone, now, telling Room Service to send up champagne.
"The Piper Heidseick '52 _Cordon Rouge_," he specified.
An impressive-looking official brought the champagne up fifteen minutes
later, in a bucket on a tray, and he made a big production out of
removing the cork. Pouring out a glass for each of them, he bowed and
departed. McDermott offered Laura her glass, and they clinked them
gravely and drank.
Putting his glass down empty, McDermott said in a peculiarly halting,
hesitant way, "Laura--I--I've been doing a good deal of thinking since
last night--about--about things." He looked down at his gleaming
black shoes. "I--I'm rather fond of you, as you might imagine. I was
wondering if--perhaps--you could possibly be persuaded to move. To
Boston, or one of the suburbs."
She looked at him in surprise.
Before she could reply, he went on, "I have a fairly good idea of what
you earn here, and I could guarantee that you'd live equally well
up there. And you'd be free most of the time, except when I could
manage to see you. We'd have to arrange things very carefully, of
course. A breath of scandal and I'd be ruined." He looked up, pale and
tense. "There's one additional angle. My wife, as I've said, has aged
rapidly. She's not in the best of health. Now, a divorce is beyond
consideration, but--in the event of her death, say in the next year
or two--I would ask you to become my second wife. After the proper
interval of mourning, of course. Naturally this would entitle you to a
considerable portion of my estate at such time--as--well--"
He paused. Laura looked at him in confusion.
"I don't know what to say," she got out finally. "I'm--well--stunned--"
"I admit it's sudden of me, this way. But I've searched my soul and I'm
convinced I must have you. Your past is of no interest to me. I need
you, Laura."
It was her turn to look at the floor. "Well--there are some
complications," she said, thinking of Dan. No doubt Spinelli would be
willing to release her from employment to make such a marriage, or even
to become McDermott's mistress while Mrs. McDermott lived. "I'm afraid
I can't give you any answer on the spot, Bob. I'd have to think about
it a while."
"Certainly," he said, calmer now that he had said his say. "This isn't
anything for you to rush into. Consider it, and let me know your
answer when you've reached a decision. For my sake, of course, I hope
it'll be _yes_."
She looked away, moistening her lips. It was an idea, she thought.
A lot depended on what Dan had to say Monday night. If he asked her
to marry him, life would be a lot more complicated. But if he had no
such intentions, then it might not be bad at all to become McDermott's
mistress and possibly someday his wife and heir.