“Mamma,” he said as she switched off the light.
“Goodnight, my precious,” she whispered as she leaned over him one more time and kissed his cheek. She pulled back in dismay. The scent of Erik’s cologne still clung to Theron’s pajamas. A wave of longing swept over her.
Thoroughly put out with herself for feeling desire for Erik even after having suffered his verbal abuse, she went dispiritedly to her room and began getting ready for bed.
Why must he be so disturbingly, beautifully male? Why was everything he did made to look effortless? He was competent in his work. The first series of commercials he had produced for Kirchoff’s were so well done that her heart burst with pride each time she saw one of them.
But he was no knight in shining armor. He had one major flaw. He had admitted it to Seth. He was selfish.
Was that so surprising?
He was a fair-haired child, a golden boy. He had always had things going more or less his way. He had everything he wanted. Now he wanted her, but when she resisted him, he had resorted to contempt. And what would he do about Theron? More than anything, she fear
ed him on that point. He loved his son. To what lengths would he go to have him?
She looked herself squarely in the eye in the mirror over her bathroom sink and asked aloud, “Are you any better than he is?” She wanted him just as much as he obviously wanted her. Unfaithfulness went against everything she believed in and adhered to. Fidelity to one’s spouse was an elemental dogma to her. Hadn’t that been the one thing that she could never have tolerated from Erik? When she thought he was married, she had run.
It was different with her, though, she thought piously. It wasn’t a trivial sexual dalliance she wanted. She loved Erik. Didn’t she? Or was she so self-righteous, as he had accused, that she wanted to convince herself that she loved him? Was that only a sanctimonious excuse for the blood that coursed through her veins, looking for an outlet every time she saw Erik, felt his touch?
Did she really love Erik? Or was she only a woman whose natural, healthy sex drive worked overtime whenever a man as attractive as Erik was around?
* * *
She stood in the dimly lit den and tapped timidly on the door. She had never been invited into this room, and her heart was thudding so loudly that she barely heard Seth’s “George?”
She swallowed her shyness and answered softly, “No, it’s Kathleen.”
There was a long, stunned pause, then the soft whisper of bedclothes before he said, “Come in.”
She put down her last shred of caution and opened the door, going into Seth’s bedroom for the first time. She knew she looked alluring. Her hair was brushed to a silky sheen and hung beguilingly on her bare shoulders. Her diaphanous nightgown of a sea-foam color wafted around her figure as she walked on bare feet toward the wide bed.
All the lights, save the bedside lamp, had been turned out when George quitted the room. Seth’s image was diffused in the soft light, or it could have been the blur of tears in Kathleen’s eyes that prevented her from seeing him well.
“Kathleen,” he whispered, “you look beautiful.”
“I hope I’m not disturbing you, Seth.” Of course she was disturbing him. Suddenly, she felt rather silly, but was resolved to banish Erik Gudjonsen from her mind once and for all.
“Is something wrong?”
Did she look that upset? “No,” she answered softly. By now, she had reached the bed and was looking down at him. Seth was sitting up with a book resting across his lap. He was barechested. She had seen him in swimming trunks when he and George did their therapy in the pool, but she was forever amazed at how well developed the muscles of his arms and chest were. There was a light sprinkling of dark hair, not nearly as much as—
“Seth,” she said, and hesitantly sat down on the side of the bed with her hip snugly against the curve of his waist. “Seth,” she repeated, not sure where to start. She had never seduced anyone before. Erik didn’t count. He had been the seducer “I’m going to miss you while I’m gone.”
“I’m going to miss you, too.” He smiled, using those beautiful teeth set in his dark, shadowed face, the mouth that curved so magnanimously, the gentle eyes that constantly bespoke contentment in spite of his handicap.
“Are you?” Kathleen laid her hand on his chest. She gently plucked at the sparse hair, then moved her fingers restlessly, nervously, across the sculpted muscles.
“Yes,” he answered.
She leaned over him then and kissed him on the lips. Her breasts, covered only by the sheer nightgown that didn’t hide the dusky nipples, brushed against his chest. Sacrificing pride for the sake of her cause, she moved her mouth over his, inviting his lips to open, to kiss her in a way they had never kissed before. When he hesitantly complied, her tongue slipped between his teeth.
His hands were at her shoulders, and he was pushing her away. “Kathleen, Kathleen, why are you doing this?” he asked, pained.
“You love me, Seth,” she said desperately.
“Yes. More than my life. You know I do.”
“I love you. I want… I want to… to make love to you.” She looked down at her hands still resting on his chest.