The Nude Wore Blaсk

Chapter Four

"Goddam Jews!"

"Shh, honey."

"Lousy hebes!"

"Take it easy."

"Stinking kikes!"

"Can't you forget it?"

"How can I forget it, Olivia? Every time I go to bed with you this happens. And all because of those dirty Jew bastards!"

"Mortimer, maybe if you'd forget about it, then it wouldn't happen this way all the time. Besides, I don't see how you can blame a whole ethnic group for-"

"You don't see! You don't see! Well let me just show you, Olivia!" Mortimer Valentine turned on the lamp on the nightstand and agitatedly hopped out of bed. "Just look at this!" He wasn't wearing any pajama pants and now he took hold of himself with one hand and waved his manhood under his wife's nose. "Take a good look!"

"It looks all right to me," Olivia said placatingly. "It's no different from any other man."

"What do you mean? How do you know? How could you know a thing like that?" Mortimer sputtered with excited suspicion. "How many other men-?"

"None!" Olivia assured him hastily. "No other men. I just mean that from what little I've read… But of course I've never actually seen another man to make a comparison."

"Well, all right, then." Mortimer was mollified by his wife's protestations of innocence. "But that's exactly what I mean. How can you judge? That's what I'm saying. It's not the same. It's not what it should be. And all because the goddamn sheenies-"

"Now look, Mortimer," Olivia said wearily, "other men have been circumcised, and they don't carry on about the Jewish people the way you do."

"They don't know! That's all. They don't know! If they did, they'd take every last kike in the country and-"

"But it has nothing to do with the Jews. Almost every man gets circumcised today. It's a health measure."

"By a doctor, yeah. And even then it's because the whole stupid medical profession's been brainwashed by the Zionist conspiracy!" Mortimer insisted.

"But the Jewish men themselves are circumcised."

"That's different. They don't do it the same way. It's some ancient heathen tribal secret, the way they do it. And it's phony. Just a little slice so they can say what you just said. So they can turn to the world and say we circumcise our male babies and it's healthy, so why shouldn't you? It's all part of the same plot."

"But if the doctors-"

"The doctors! The doctors!" Mortimer snorted impatiently. "What's that got to do with me, anyway? It was a goddamn sheenie mohel did it! And me an innocent little baby who couldn't know that butcher was robbing me of man's most precious possession. I had to get married to-"

"You're exaggerating, Mortimer. It isn't as though we never make it. It's only sometimes-"

"My parents should never have let that sheenie bastard within a mile of an infant who couldn't protect-"

"I never did understand how that came about," Olivia told him. "How did it happen that you were circumcised by a mohel instead of a doctor? After all, you're not Jewish."

"You're damn right I'm not. My blood runs pure red, white, and blue all the way back to Aaron Burr-I mean Alexander Hamilton!"

"Then how come a mohel did the operation?"

"It was an emergency. That's how come!" Mortimer recalled the circumstances through clenched teeth. "I was born just when the Birchville quacks were starting to fall for the Zionist propaganda about circumcision. They were having a hard time convincing most new parents they should do it to their male babies. But my parents were natural patsies. One other couple, too. Our doctor scheduled both circumcisions for the same day. He did the other poor bastard first. Right after he sliced him, he took one look at the blood and fainted dead away. The mohel was there as a sort of expert-ha!-advisor. When the medico fainted, the mohel stepped in and finished the job. Then he did his vicious work on me. Just like a vulture swooping down on its prey. Goddamn Jew son-ofabitch!"

"I wonder what happened with the other baby," Olivia mused.

"Some lousy Jewish sultan probably hired him for his harem. How else do you think those Semitic bastards get their ennuchs?"

"Jews don't have harems. You're thinking of Arabs."

"Same difference."

"No, it's not. The Arabs don't like the Jews any more than you do," Olivia pointed out.

"That's just a front." Mortimer waved it away. "All those Semites are actually in cahoots to take over the world. All they want is to castrate every white man like they did me."

"But they didn't castrate you." Olivia was getting exasperated. "You were circumcised."

"Same difference. Same result, anyway. I have a wife and I can't satisfy her."

"Oh, yes, you can," Olivia purred, only partly lying. "Just turn out the light and come on back to bed. You know you can."

"I'm not hungry," Mortimer said sulkily.

"Don't be like that. First you get me all stirred up and now you leave me hanging. Come on, Mortimer, it's not fair." Olivia tugged at his head, trying to pull it down to where she wanted it.

"Oh, all right. But you'd better let me take my teeth out first."

"I guess so. But don't take all night about it."

"Now, you just be patient," Mortimer told her. "I can't afford to replace them. It's like Dr. Pulham used to say. 'Take care of your dentures your whole life through, and your dentures will last just as long as you chew.' "

"Ah, Dr. Pulham," Olivia reminisced. "If it hadn't been for him, we wouldn't be here like this right now. We wouldn't be married. We might not have even met." Olivia sighed. "He should drop dead!" she added under her breath. "Slowly!"

"That's true," Mortimer agreed. "If it hadn't been for orthodonture, I never would have known what romance was. I guess we could truly say that bridgework brought us together. Remember how it was? Both of us so self-conscious because we'd had all our teeth pulled. Both of us avoiding dates like the plague, afraid to even talk to a person of the opposite sex, afraid of being laughed at. That whole long time while we were waiting for Dr. Pulham to make the plates, gumming our way through that awful period. No wonder we latched on to each other and clung together. There's nothing like dental mechanics to form the foundation for a lasting relationship."

"I suppose you're right," Olivia granted. "Haven't you got them out yet? What's taking you so long?"

"The goddamn denture powder's congealed. I'm having trouble working the plate loose. Goddamn denture powder! Wouldn't you know it's made by a sheenie firm!" Mortimer pried with his fingers inside his mouth. After a moment he removed them and cursed. "Goddamn Arch!" he snarled. "That sonofabitch!"

"Arch? You mean your cousin? What about him?"

"He's responsible for my losing all my teeth in the first place. That's what! I told you."

"Oh, that's right. I'd forgotten."

"I didn't want to play baseball. I never wanted to play baseball. All the time I was a kid I didn't want to play baseball. And after I was grown up, I certainly didn't want to play baseball. But nothing changes. When I was a kid, Arch would tease me into playing. And when I grew up, it was the same thing. Right up to that day it happened. Like always, they'd make me the catcher to keep me out of the way. And that day it was Arch at bat and me behind him catching. He belted the damn ball and then threw his bat and it hit me smack in the mouth. Knocked out every tooth in my head."

"I know," Olivia reminded him. "You've told me all about it. Several times. You have all my sympathy. I promise never to watch another baseball game. That will be my sacrifice to your naked gums."

"There's no need to be sarcastic. It may sound funny to you, but it isn't funny to me. No funnier than the way you lost your choppers at the ripe old age of twenty. What could be more ridiculous than sticking your head inside a washing machine and getting clobbered by the agitator?"

"It wasn't working. I was just looking to see what was wrong. How could I have known it was going to start up with my head in there? How could I anticipate that the agitator would tear up my mouth like some infernal machine tearing the kernels from an ear of corn?" Olivia shuddered at the memory.

"All right then. Just don't get sarcastic with me. People in glass houses, you know? Besides, at least I've made the psychic adjustment to being toothless. I accept it. That's more than you can say, Olivia. I haven't seen you with your teeth out since you got them. And I'll bet nobody else has, either."

"It's different. I'm a woman. My feminine pride won't let me be seen without them. And nobody knows they're false except you and Dr. Pulham. I'd just die if anybody found out. I don't even like it that you know."

"Well, I do." Mortimer resumed struggling with his teeth. "Ouch!" He finally pulled the dentures free. "Goddamn Arch!" he grumbled.

"That reminds me," Olivia remembered. "Shouldn't we have him over for dinner soon?"

"I suppose so. Do you know how to cook hemlock?"

"I'll ask my old friend Llona the same night. Remember, I told you how I bumped into her. That way I won't have to sit and listen to you two men yak man-talk all night."

"You don't have to worry about that. Arch and I have nothing to say to each other. He doesn't like me any better than I like him. If it wasn't for Mother, I'd tell you to forget the whole thing. But I suppose we have to have him."

"Of course we do. Besides, after hearing so much about him, I'm anxious to meet him. Don't forget to leave me his phone number before you go to work tomorrow. If I leave it to you to call him, you'll never do it."

"Ihaissgus!"

"What?"

Mortimer raised his head. "I said I hate his guts," He repeated distinctly.

"Oh. Well, let's not talk about it now." Olivia arched

her body invitingly until Mortimer's lips came to rest once again. "Ahhh," she sighed. "There are some advantages to having a toothless husband. Ahhhhhhhhh…"

"Ah," the male voice echoed over the phone the following afternoon. "Olivia. Now I remember. You're the Olivia who married my cousin Mortimer."

"That's right, Arch," Olivia told him.

"Sorry I missed your wedding. I really meant to come, but-"

"No apologies necessary," Olivia assured him. "As weddings go, it went. 'Nuf said."

"Well, for the family's sake, I should have-"

"Exactly. The families were there. Both families. I had to suffer that. You didn't. So let me just congratulate you on your luck and let it go at that."

"Congratulations accepted." Arch chuckled. "Are you sure you're the Olivia.who married my cousin Mortimer?"

"I'm sure." Olivia sighed to herself.

"Mortimer Valentine?"

"The very same."

"Oh." There was a long pause. "I was shown a picture of you," Arch said finally. "The one taken out back of the house. You know?"

"I know the picture."

"From the picture, you're a very attractive girl."

"Thank you."

"Yes. Umm, does it look like you?" Arch asked hesitantly.

"The spitting image."

"You have a good figure."

"Yes. I know."

"Pretty face, too." There was a note of puzzlement in his voice.

"So I've been told." "And you married my cousin Mortimer." Arch was careful to keep all inflection out of his voice now.

"I'm afraid so."

"Oh? I see."

"Exactly. But we really shouldn't be discussing that, should we?" Olivia asked. "After all, Mortimer's my husband. And he's your cousin. That makes me your cousin now, too."

"Hi, cuz. For the first time in memory, things are looking up in this cockamamie family."

"Flatterer." Olivia giggled. "That's certainly some line you've got there. You must be quite a hit with the fair sex."

"I survive," Arch said modestly.

"Yes. Well, the reason I called is that I'd like you to come to dinner. I'm having a girl friend who'd like to meet you too."

"Oh, now, you're not going to start that bit, are you? After we were hitting it off so well?"

"Bit? What bit? I don't know what you mean."

"Setting me up with marriageable girls. It's a family project. And each one doggier than the last. Now-that-your-cousin-Mortimer's-married-you-should-think-about getting-married-too," Arch singsonged.

"It's not like that at all. This is a very nice girl. Wonderful personality."

"That did it. 'Wonderful personality.' They always have a 'wonderful personality.' It's the kiss of death."

"Well, if you'd rather just come to dinner without my asking her-" Olivia hesitated. "I guess it could be just the three of us-you, me, and Mortimer."

"How about just you and me?" Arch suggested.

Olivia took her time thinking before she answered. "That wouldn't be right," she said slowly. "After all, Mortimer is your cousin."

Arch was encouraged by the fact that she referred to his relationship to Mortimer rather than to her own closer one. "I know," he answered cheerfully. "I'm a louse. That's how it's been all my life where Mortimer's concerned. When he was six his folks got him a dog. That dog was crazy about me. Wagged his tail off every time he saw me. But he bit Mortimer and they had to get rid of him."

"I'm not a dog," Olivia reminded him.

"I know. That, much I could tell from your picture. Anyway, when Mortimer was ten, they bought him an erector set. Man, how I loved that set. It was just made for me. I built all kinds of things with it. But Mortimer? He finally managed to hook up the transformer and damn near electrocuted himself. Right after that his folks gave it away to some church bazaar."

"I'm not an erector set," Olivia observed.

"Well, now, maybe with the right man- Sorry. Not being able to resist a pun's one of my minor vices."

"Very minor, I'll bet, compared to your other vices."

"Right you are," Arch admitted cheerfully. "Anyway, when we hit our 'teens, there was this girl Mortimer was crazy about. Stuck her up on a pedestal and spent all his time mooning over her and worshipping her. She wasn't much, but I just couldn't resist-giving her a whirl anyway. Borrowed Mortimer's car to take her out. Next morning he found the evidence on the back seat. So I confessed everything."

"You really are a louse!"

"Yeah. But only where Mortimer's concerned. I don't know what it is, but whatever he's got always looks appealing to me. Some kind of sibling cousin rivalry, I guess. Although the truth is that with Mortimer it's always been a case of no contest."

"And now you're pitching for his wife," Olivia told him frankly.

"Aren't you kind of jumping to conclusions?" "Well, aren't you? Isn't that what this is all about? If I were another kind of girl, I could get pretty indignant about the way you're coming on."

"But you're not another kind of girl. I can tell that just by talking to you. You're a swinger. The question is how come you married Mortimer in the first place? You just don't seem like the type for poor old toothless Mortimer."

"You've got a nerve calling him that."

"Oh, he told you about that, hey?" Arch chuckled. "You should have seen it. It was like the sky was raining teeth."

"It's not funny! You're unkind!"

"Only to Mortimer. Believe me. I'm really a very sweet Joe to anybody else."

"All right. If you're so sweet, come to dinner and meet my friend and stop playing hard to get."

"Me hard to get? Not at all. All right, I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll come to dinner next week if you'll meet me for a cocktail tomorrow. What do you say? That's fair enough, isn't it?"

"Well, I don't know..

"Come on. Only a drink. Even in this state that doesn't constitute adultery. After all, we're cousins now. What do you say?"

"All right. One drink. But that's all. Don't make any foolish plans."

"Never. Perish the thought." Arch told her where and when to meet him the following day and agreed to come to dinner the next Thursday night.

After he'd hung up, Olivia called Llona and confirmed the dinner date with her.

"Couldn't you have made it any sooner?" Llona asked plaintively.

"I'm afraid not."

• "Oh. Well, thanks anyway, Olivia. I'll be there." Llona's heart was pounding at the very thought of coming face-to-face with her Archer again. She felt as if it must burst under the strain of waiting a week. Still, it was sort of an imposition on Olivia, an imposition on short acquaintance at that, and Llona was genuinely grateful. She'd just have to control her impatience.

Impatience was an emotion that Olivia was starting to feel too as she hung up on Llona. She had to admit to herself that the conversation with Arch had intrigued her. The prospect of having a drink with him on the morrow was also intriguing. Mortimer had always spoken about him as though he was some sort of family black sheep. But Mortimer's disapproval had only made Arch seem romantic to her. Now Olivia was impatient to see for herself if the romantic image was justified.

Curiosity was a large part of her impatience. It found voice over the dinner table with Mortimer that night. "Is your cousin Arch what you'd call good-looking?" Olivia asked, her tone making it sound like no more than idle curiosity.

"If you like that brutish type, I suppose he is," Mortimer said, scowling. "All brawn and no moral fiber. But I suppose some women would find him attractive."

"I suppose so." Olivia let it drop. After all, in less than twenty-four hours she'd find out for herself. "What's the matter?" she asked, noticing that Mortimer was struggling with his shirt collar.

"Goddamn Chinks!" Mortimer gasped. "Conquest by strangulation! That's what those little yellow bastards are after! H-bombs, hell! They're gonna take us over with starch!" His fingers clawed at the shirt-button at his throat.

"I don't take your shirts to the Chinese laundry any more," Olivia reminded him. "I switched to a regular laundry a month ago after you accused that poor Chinese delivery man of trying to garrote you."

"I remember. He was a member of the cult. They're all members of the cult."

"What cult?"

"The stranglers' cult. They worship this devil-god. Kali, I think it is."

"I saw that movie. That's India. Not China."

"Same thing," Mortimer insisted. "China. India. The Yellow Peril's all over Asia. Just biding their time to wipe the white man off the face of the earth. Sneaky little yellow-bellies! Gonna do it slow! Torture us by slow choking. Insidious. Each time a little more starch until-" Mortimer screwed up his face and let his tongue loll out of his mouth.

"Don't do that." Olivia shuddered. "You look like a corpse."

"That's what I mean."

"But I told you, we don't use the Chinese laundry any more. I switched. Now our laundryman's somebody named Levine."

"Aha! I knew it! Those yellow Kali killers are tied in with the Zionists! If they can't get you one way, they get you another. Let me tell you-"

When you're insane, everybody's Jewish, Olivia reflected to herself as she tuned out Mortimer's tirade. His words were mere garbled noises washing over her. She ignored them as she considered what the cocktail date with Arch might be like.

It was like being single again. Olivia hadn't been with Arch more than ten minutes the next day before she reached that conclusion. The way he treated her was the way men had treated her when she was unmarried, before she'd lost her teeth. And Olivia found herself liking it. She liked it a lot.

The stream of compliments he directed toward her threw her off balance. Washing them down with a second and then a third cocktail did nothing to restore that balance. By the time she was on her fourth, Olivia didn't even feel the need to pretend that she minded his hand under her dress, squeezing the thigh-flesh just above her stocking-top.

"I just can't believe you're Mortimer's wife," he was saying for the umpteenth time. "How the hell did a girl like you ever happen to marry him, anyway?"

"A momentary apparition," Olivia answered. She giggled. "I mean aberration," she explained.

"But you're a beauty!"

"That's nice to hear." Olivia allowed his hand to explore higher.

"Your figure! Your face! Your eyes! Even your teeth! Do you know you have absolutely perfect teeth."

"They should be," Olivia muttered under her breath. "I paid enough for them."

"What?" Arch hadn't been able to distinguish her words.

"Nothing. Go on with what you were slaying. I mean saying."

"Your teeth. So white. So even. So-"

"You can skip that part. Go back to my other at-tribeauties."

"Your breasts!" His lips were grazing her ear now. "They're just crying out to be fondled."

"Not in pubic! I mean public! I don't mind under the table, but-"

"Why don't we get out of here?" Arch kissed her neck. "My apartment's only a few blocks away."

"I really shouldn't-"

But she did.

And once they were settled in Arch's apartment, he came on like a Fanny Hill version of Gangbusters. As soon as they were on the couch he wrapped himself around Olivia and kissed her as she hadn't been kissed since her marriage to Mortimer. "Not so fast," she said breathlessly when the long, deep kiss was finally over. She put a hand against his chest to hold him off. But it wasn't really coyness. Olivia just wanted a moment to secretly run her tongue over her dentures to make sure the pressure of the kiss hadn't loosened them. When she was satisfied they were secure, she removed her hand.

Immediately, Arch swooped down on her for another kiss. She fell back on the couch with him half atop her. The suddenness of the maneuver made her skirt slip up over her shapely legs. By the time the kiss was over, Arch had managed to undo each of the eight buttons running down the front of her blouse.

Now his mouth fastened on the flesh mound escaping from the top of her bra. His hands stroked her legs until she wriggled in response. Then they clutched beneath her, squeezing the plumpness of her derriere. Olivia squealed and bounced excitedly in their grasp.

Arch pushed the bra aside until one breast sprang free. His eyes took a moment to admire the perfect pear-shape of it. For a small girl, Olivia was a bit top-heavy. But Arch wasn't complaining. He was too busy nibbling at the scarlet stem of the pear.

Olivia moaned. Her fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, pushing so that his mouth was forced to close over more and more of her breast. The jut of her hips was a blur of motion now, as his hand slipped under the elastic of her panties to grasp at the slippery, dewy, inflamed bit of flesh quivering there.

She writhed under the intimacy. She bounced harder, higher. Her petite, voluptuous body felt as if it were on fire. There was no thought of Mortimer now. There was no thought of anything but the waves of sensation engulfing her.

Arch quickly removed the rest of her clothing. Then he slipped out of his own clothes and sprawled over her. Her body was a torch, her arms and legs archways of flame drawing him into the fiery coals of her breasts and her womanhood.

Olivia raked his neck and back with her nails. Then she dug into his buttocks until she drew blood. He obeyed the command and plunged deep. Only when her scratching had urged him to the greatest possible depth did she let up. But while she relaxed the pressure of her nails, the rest of Olivia's body only increased its frenzied demands. She'd waited a long time for this, and now her need was making the most of it. She moved like a tornado gone berserk, and Arch, caught up in it, let the wild wind draw all that his body was capable of giving.

Finally it was over. Arch rolled over, exhausted. They were silent, panting, for a long time. At last Arch found his voice. "Boy!" he exclaimed. "I never thoughtTd envy Mortimer. But-"

"I know." Olivia's eyes brimmed with gratitude. "It was like that for me, too. There aren't any words."

"Yeah. Cigarette?"

"Yes, thanks."

Arch lit two cigarettes. They smoked them in silence. Finally Olivia snuffed hers out. "Again?" she asked a little shyly.

"I'd like to, but I don't think I'm ready yet to-"

"Well, we can do something about that." Her fingers trailed up his thigh. "Just relax," she crooned. She weighed his manhood in the palm of her hand and stroked it delicately. After a moment she slipped off the couch to the floor. Pushing his legs apart, she edged closer to him on her knees. Her lips formed an O.

"Ahh," he sighed. "Ah-ah-ah! Oh, yes! Harder, darling! Faster, sweetheart! He closed his hands over her ears and pushed and pulled at her head to urge her to greater activity. "Yes! Harder! Faster! Harder! Faster! Harder! Faster!" His hands on her head were moving like twin pistons now. His knees were opening and closing, squeezing Olivia's breasts between them. "Harder! Faster! Harder! Harder! That's it! Harder!"

Then, suddenly-

"OWWEEYIIIOWWWW!" Arch screamed and pushed Olivia's head away with all his strength. He leaped to his feet and danced wildly about the room as if he'd gone suddenly mad. Olivia, sprawled on the floor, looked at him dazed. "Do something!" he screamed. "Do something!"

Olivia reclaimed her senses and leaped into action. "Stand still," she said, grabbing for Arch. "If you'll-stand still, maybe I can-"

"No! No-no-no! You're making it worse! Oh! What agony!" He pulled away from her and resumed leaping and clutching at himself by turn. "Do something! I can't stand it!"

Olivia thought fast. She ran to the telephone and quickly dialed a number. "Doctor Pulham," she stammered when the phone was answered. "Cubquickissan-emergencysomethidawful'shappedandyouhavetocub!"

"Mrs. Valentine?" Dr. Pelham recognized her voice. "You're garbling your words. I can't understand you. Have you taken your dentures out?" His tone was accusing.

"Yezbudnotonpurbussthaswhyoohavtohuwwy!"

"How many times have I stressed the importance of not speaking with your dentures out? How many times have I told you it will weaken all the jaw muscles and affect the way the teeth fit? Really, Mrs. Valentine-"

"Pleazldowbutthisissadebergedtzy!"

"An emergency?" Dr. Pulham somehow managed to make out what she was saying. "Very well. Give me the address."

It wasn't easy with Arch dancing around and howling in the background, but somehow Olivia managed to get the address across to Dr. Pelham. She hung up and tried to soothe Arch. It was to no avail. Fortunately, Dr. Pel-ham arrived quickly.

"You still have your dentures out," he observed critically as he entered. Then he noticed Arch and his jaw fell open. "How-?"

"Never mind how! Ow-ow-ow!" Arch wailed. "Do something! You're a doctor, aren't you?"

"I'm a dentist." Dr. Pulham continued to stare.

"Well, I can't stand this! Do something! Get me loose from these infernal things." '

Dr. Pulham scratched his head. "All right," he said soothingly. "Come inside. We'll see what we can do." He followed Arch into the bedroom and closed the door behind them.

There was a loud yowl, and a moment later Dr. Pulham emerged. Olivia looked at him questioningly.

"I believe these belong to you, my dear." He held Olivia's plates gingerly between two fingers.

"Oh. Yes." She flushed. She took them from him and started to put them in her mouth.

"Don't you think you should wash them first?" He asked disapprovingly.

"Oh, yes." Her flush deepened. "I forgot." She started for the kitchen sink.

"Do they lock like that frequently?" Dr. Pulham inquired when she'd fitted them onto Yier gums.

"It never happened before."

"I see. Well, perhaps a bite to which they weren't accustomed- Too bad for the young man. It must have been excruciating for him."

"Is he all right?"

"I believe so. But he should see his doctor to check the extent of the damage." Dr. Pulham picked up his bag and started for the door. "Umm, about the bill," he said straightfaced. "Shall I send it to your husband?"

"No!" Olivia exclaimed. "Don't do that! I'll send you a check in the morning."

"Fifty dollars," Dr. Pulham told her.

"Isn't that kind of high?"

"Is it?" He stared her down. "A house visit. An emergency call. Dental surgery of the most delicate nature. No, Mrs. Valentine. I don't think it's high at all. Do you?"

"No. Of course not. I'll send you a check."

"Good." Dr. Pulham smiled knowingly and left.

Olivia went inside to Arch then. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "How are you feeling?"

"Sorry? What good is sorry? You may have ruined me for life. Do me a favor, will you? Get out of here and go home to Mortimer. Don't say anything." He held up his hand. "Do not stay! Do not pass 'Go'! Go directly home. And remain there. Never darken my door again!"

"But it was so wonderful before-"

"Out! Out, you toothless witch! I never want to see you again!"

"If you'd only give me a chance-"

'"Never! This close is too close. Just get out and never come back."

"Will you- Will you come to dinner next Thursday?" Olivia asked sorrowfully.

"Absolutely not!"

"But-"

"Out!"

Olivia left sorrowfully, like a beaten dog with its tail between its legs. It was still dragging when she reached home. Later that evening, during dinner, Mortimer noticed her crestfallen demeanor.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked.

"Just depressed, I guess." "About what?"

"I don't know. Maybe I ate something that disagreed with me."

'"Italian food!" Mortimer pounded his fist on the table. "I'll bet you had Italian food while you were downtown shopping today. Those stinkin' wops! They'll poison the whole goddamn population before they're through!"

"But I didn't have any-"

Working himself up, Mortimer was beyond hearing. "Guinea bastards! Everyone of 'em's a lousy Mafia hood. Spaghetti! Ravioli! Lasagna! Hah! Poison, that's what it is! The way to cut out the white man's heart is through his stomach! That's their motto! Black guinea sonsof-bitches!"

"But they're Caucasian and-"

"Asian! That's right! They're part of the whole Asian conspiracy. No good Italian Jew bastards! Papist kikes!"

"Yes, dear." Olivia gave up. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go make a phone call."

"Oriental wop sheenies!" His voice kept right on ranting in Olivia's wake as she left the room.

She shut it out by closing the kitchen door behind her before she picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hello." Llona answered.

"Olivia Valentine here," she identified herself. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid the dinner's off for next week. Mortimer's cousin Archer can't make it."

"Oh, no!" Llona was very disappointed, and it showed in her voice. "Why not?"

"He's going out of town on business," Olivia improvised.

"Damn! I was so anxious to meet him."

"Why?" Olivia asked.

"Well, the truth is that I think we've met before. Only I'm not sure. But if he's the man I think he is, I simply have to get in touch with him."

The breathless note in Llona's voice made Olivia suspicious. And the suspicion made her cautious. "Sounds like there's some romance involved," she ventured, her voice even.

"Well, frankly there is," Llona admitted.

Olivia thought fast. The one thing she didn't want where Arch was concerned was competition from a beautiful young widow like Llona. Even if she couldn't have him herself, Olivia was damned if she was going to open any doors for another woman. Instead, she shut this one firmly and quickly, and right in Llona's face. "I can't imagine you having a romantic interest in Mortimer's cousin Arch," she said, managing a giggle. "He's not exactly the type."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, I don't know. Some women might go for short fat men, but I didn't think that was your speed."

"Fat? Short? How short?" Llona wanted to know.

"Five foot nothing. And that hooked nose he talks through. Gosh, Llona, he may be my husband's cousin, but you can do better than that."

"I don't think he's the man I'm looking for," Llona sighed.

"I doubt it. Too bad."

"Yes. It is too bad. Well, I'll see you at the massage parlor." Llona hung up the phone.

Damn! Llona flung herself down on her bed and pounded the pillow with her fists. She'd been so sure Olivia's husband's cousin was the Archer she was seeking! But obviously, from the description, he wasn't. Damn! Was she fated to never again meet her lover? No! She wouldn't accept that! She'd take steps to find him. That's what she'd do!

And that's what she did. The very next day.