You Must Be Kidding

One

Ken Brandon unlocked his front door and stepped into the lobby.

‘Hi, honey! I’m home!’ he bawled. ‘Where are you?’

‘In the kitchen... where else?’ his wife called. ‘You’re early.’

He made his way to the well-equipped kitchen where his wife was preparing dinner. He paused in the doorway and regarded her.

The Brandons had been married for four years, and those years hadn’t blunted Ken’s feelings for her. Slim, blonde and more attractive than pretty, Betty Brandon was not only efficient in the home, but also efficient as Dr. Heintz’s receptionist, and she had to be efficient since Dr. Heintz was Paradise City’s top gynecologist. She earned fifty dollars a week more than Ken did: something that secretly rankled with him, but her earnings made it possible for them to live in a modest style which they both enjoyed, with two cars, a nice bungalow in a good residential district and they were able to save for the future.

Ken was the head salesman with the Paradise Assurance Corporation. He earned a reasonable wage amid trying to compete with his wife’s earnings, he often worked out-of-office hours whereas Betty kept strict hours. She left home at 09.45 and returned at 18.00, her workday finished. This arrangement suited her as she could look after the bungalow and prepare dinner for Ken, not always knowing at what time he would return. Betty prided herself on her cooking. With the aid of various cookbooks, every evening, she provided a good and tasty meal.

‘Don’t come near me, Ken!’ she said sharply, seeing the light in his eyes and knowing from experience what he had in mind. ‘I’m cooking something important. You’ve arrived at the wrong time.’

Ken grinned.

‘Is there ever a wrong time? Honey, forget it! Two things: first, we are going to make certain our bedroom is still there, and second, I am going to buy you the best meal you have ever eaten. Let’s go!’

Betty pushed him away.

‘Now, Ken, stop it! The bedroom is still there and will wait. We are not going out! I am cooking clam chowder, and let me tell you there is no restaurant anywhere that does a better clam chowder than I do! What’s happened?’

‘Clam chowder?’ Ken moved to the saucepan and lifted the lid.

‘Ken! Keep your hands off that!’

He hurriedly replaced the lid.

‘Smells marvellous!’

‘It is marvellous. What’s happened?’

‘Well, at least, let’s have a drink.’ He went to the refrigerator and took from it a bottle of gin and a bottle of martini. ‘I have news!’

‘Give me five minutes,’ Betty said.

He carried the bottles into the lounge, made two drinks, lit a cigarette and dropped into one of the comfortable lounging chairs. He waited impatiently.

Betty wasn’t to be hurried. Ten minutes later, she came into the lounge. By then, Ken had already replenished his glass.

‘So what’s all the excitement about?’ she asked, dropping into a chair by his side and accepting the drink he offered. ‘What’s the news?’

‘You may well ask.’ Ken grinned at her. He was now feeling slightly drunk. It was seldom he drank martini gins. ‘I’ve been promoted. Sternwood called me to his office this afternoon.’ He grimaced. ‘Frankly, honey, I nearly flipped. I thought I was going to get the gate. You know Stern. No one gets called to his office unless he is going to get the hot foot. Okay, so I went. Imagine! He has opened a branch office in Secomb, and he wants me to take charge. He says there is a big, untapped source of business there, and he expects me to get it. What could I say? No one argues with Sternwood. So I am now in charge of the new Secomb office.’

‘Secomb?’ Betty stared. ‘But that’s the black district.’

‘Not all black. It’s the workers’ district. There are lots of whites living there.’

‘What kind of insurance?’

Ken nodded approvingly. His wife was nobody’s fool.

‘A good question. Sternwood’s idea is to go after the parents and sell them a safeguard policy for their kids. For a small premium, we can offer parents all kinds of coverage for their kids. In Secomb, there are around fifteen thousand possible prospects, and Sternwood is sure we will strike gold.’

Betty thought.

‘After dealing with all your rich clients, Ken, you won’t like it, will you?’

‘I’ve no choice. Anyway, it’s a challenge.’

‘So you are in charge. How much more is he paying you?’

Ken grimaced.

‘I’m still on my basic, but I get fifteen percent on all business I bring in. Sternwood never gives money away. If he is right about the prospects — and I think he is — it could mean something substantial in commissions.’

‘How substantial?’

‘I haven’t had time to think about that. It depends on how hard I work.’

Betty sighed.

‘When do you begin?’

‘The office is ready. I begin tomorrow.’ Ken finished his drink. ‘There’s one thing I don’t dig, but I’m landed with it.’

Betty regarded him.

‘I would have thought there are lots of things you don’t dig about this. What’s the bad news?’

‘Sternwood has a daughter. She is to work with me. According to him, she’s a smart cookie, knows as much about insurance as I do... according to him. She is to handle the office while I do the legwork. It’s not so hot to have Sternwood’s daughter working with me. It’ll mean I’ll have to be on my toes all the time, not that I won’t be on my toes all the time, but you know...’

‘What’s she like, Ken?’

‘No idea. I’ll tell you when I meet her tomorrow.’

‘Let’s eat.’

While they were eating, Betty said, ‘I wonder if she’s attractive.’

Regarding her, Ken saw her worried frown.

‘If she takes after her father, she must be something out of a freak show. What’s bothering you, honey?’

Betty smiled.

‘Just wondering.’

‘I’ll tell you what’s bothering me,’ Ken said. ‘I’ll have a spy in the office... a hot line right to daddy’s desk. I could be in trouble if she dislikes me or if I don’t make a success of this job. I don’t have to tell you that Sternwood is a sonofabitch. If his daughter puts in the poison, I’ll be out of a job, and Sternwood could fix me for good. That’s what’s bothering me, honey.’

‘Darling... you know you will make a success of it.’

Betty put her hand on his. ‘Like it?’

‘The best clam chowder I’ve ever eaten.’

When they had finished the meal, Betty said, ‘What was that about checking to see if the bedroom is still there?’

Ken hurriedly shoved back his chair.

‘How about the dishes?’ he asked, getting to his feet.

‘To hell with the dishes! Who cares?’

For a long period of time, Paradise City held the reputation as the billionaire’s playground: the most expensive, plush city in the world. Situated some twenty miles from Miami Beach, the city catered only for the very rich who demanded constant service. The army of those who supplied this service lived in Secomb, a mile drive out of the city.

Secomb was not unlike West Miami: a rash of walk-up apartments, battered bungalows, cheap eating places, tough bars where the conch fishermen drank and fought, and a major black population.

The new office of the Paradise Assurance Corporation was situated on Seaview Road which was in the heart of Secomb’s busy shopping centre.

Having found parking with difficulty, Ken Brandon got out of his car and stood on the sidewalk to survey his new office. To Ken, it looked like a hockshop, but he had already accepted the depressing fact that he was no longer dealing with the rich and the plush. His possible clients would be struggling to make a living. They wouldn’t think of entering an office that had the same luxury facade as the city’s head office.

Aware that he was being watched by various black owners of nearby stores, he unlocked the door and entered.

He was confronted by a long counter. Behind the counter was a big room fitted with filing cabinets, a desk, a typewriter, a telephone: all looking second hand, which they were.

This room, he guessed, was where Sternwood’s daughter would work. Lifting the flap of the counter, he walked across the room to a door with a frosted glass panel on which was printed in black letters: Ken Brandon. Manager.

He paused to study the glass panel. It gave him no pleasure. On the door panel of his office at headquarters, his name had been printed in gold.

He turned the door handle and walked into a small room equipped with a battered looking desk, a swivelled chair, a drab carpet, two upright chairs, facing the desk, a small window with a view of the noisy main street. On the desk was a telephone, a portable typewriter, an ashtray and a scratch pad.

He paused to survey his new kingdom and felt depressed.

He had been used to air conditioning in his headquarters’ office. This small room was stuffy and hot. Crossing to the window, he threw it open and immediately the noise of voices and traffic poured in.

He had told Betty this promotion was a challenge. He grinned wryly. Some challenge! Sternwood had certainly handed him a change of scene!

He heard someone in the outer office, and he went to his office door. Standing in the entrance doorway was a tall girl, around twenty-four years of age.

Ken regarded her with startled interest.

His first reaction was that this girl could be his first client. She had to be by the clothes she was wearing: a T-shirt with a red heart where her heart would be and skin tight jeans, faded in the right places.

As he stared at her, he felt a stirring of his blood. This was some girl!

Her strawberry blonde hair, reaching to her shoulders, looked as if she washed it when she felt that way, but right now she hadn’t, but the unkempt hair added to her sensuality. Her eyes were large and sea green, and the bone structure of her face was impressive: high cheek bones, a short, small nose and a wide full lipped mouth.

Still staring, Ken let his eyes shift to her body. Her breasts were like halved pineapples, straining against the T-shirt. Her long legs, her leanness made her a superb, sensual young animal.

‘Hi!’ she said, and lifting the counter flap, she walked towards him. ‘You are Ken Brandon.’

Good grief! Ken thought, this must be Sternwood’s daughter!

‘Right,’ he said. ‘You are Miss Sternwood?’

She nodded and smiled, revealing teeth that would be a rave to a toothpaste ad executive.

‘What a dump!’

She looked around, then walked over to the desk to examine the typewriter.

‘Look at this goddamn antique!’

‘Your father...’ Ken began feebly, then paused.

‘My father!’ She snorted, sat down at the desk, picked up the telephone receiver and dialled. Ken watched her blankly, then when the connection was made, she said, ‘This is Miss Sternwood. Give me Mr. Sternwood.’ There was a pause, then she said, ‘Pop! I’ve just arrived. If you imagine I am going to work on this deadbeat, nail breaking typewriter, you must be out of your head! I want an I.B.M. electric, and pronto.’ She listened. Her face turned into stone. ‘Don’t feed me that shit, Pop! I’m telling you: I either get it or I walk out!’ She hung up.

Ken’s eyes were goggling. The idea of anyone daring to talk to Jefferson Sternwood like that, even his daughter, shocked him.

‘That takes care of that,’ she said. ‘What’s your office like?’

‘Fine... fine.’

She got up, moved by him and surveyed his office.

‘You can’t work in a dump like this. It’s like a goddamn oven!’

‘It’s okay. It’s...’

She went back to her desk and dialled.

‘Give me Mr. Sternwood,’ she said. Again there was a pause, then she said, ‘Pop! I am not working in this hellhole without air conditioning. I want two portable conditioners here pronto. You... what?’ Her voice rose a note. ‘Pop! You are talking through the back of your neck! If I don’t get them, I’m quitting!’ She hung up and winked at Ken. ‘We’ll get them.’

Ken drew in a long, slow breath.

‘Mr. Sternwood must favour you, Miss Sternwood.’

She laughed.

‘Oh yes, I’ve handled him since I began to walk. He’s all wind and piss.’ She got to her feet. ‘Call me Karen.’

He was aware she was studying him, and her searching made him feel uncomfortable.

‘You’re not expecting to get business in Secomb dressed like that, are you?’ she said.

Ken gaped at her, then looked down at himself. He was wearing a lightweight charcoal coloured suit, a conservative tie, a white shirt and highly polished shoes. When he had dressed that morning, he had surveyed himself in the long mirror in his bathroom and had decided he looked every inch the up-and-coming assurance executive.

‘Like this?’ he said blankly.

‘You knock on a nigger’s door, looking the way you do now, and he won’t even open the door. Dress as I do. Look, suppose you go home and change into something casual? This is only a suggestion. You’re the boss, but you won’t get business in this godawful dump looking like my Pop. Okay?’

Ken stared at her, thought, then realized she was talking sense. The lush-plush world of Paradise City was now behind him. He had to adapt himself to these new conditions.

‘You’ve got something. I’ll be back in an hour,’ and he left and drove home.

On the way, his mind was occupied with this girl. What a girl! The way she had talked to her father! Her looks and her body! Then he said, half aloud, ‘Watch it, Brandon! You are married to the nicest and best woman in the world! You’ve been married for four years, and you have never looked at another woman. Okay, Sternwood’s daughter is sensational, so now’s the time to really watch it!’

Betty had already gone to work when he returned to their bungalow. He went to the bedroom, dug out a pair of faded jeans, a sweatshirt and loafers from his closet and changed. It was his outfit when gardening. He regarded himself in the long mirror. More the Secomb image, he told himself, but his sleek haircut was a giveaway. He ruffled his hair. That was the best he could do.

Getting into his car, he thought: ‘This girl’s smart! I should have thought of my image. Well, okay, I’ve — she’s — fixed it. Now to work.’

He didn’t return to the office, but parked his car on Trueman Street. On either side of this depressing street were broken down cabins, housing the black workers. He went from door to door, talking to black women about their children’s future, and he got a surprise. Most of the women, after regarding him suspiciously, invited him in and listened. He realized as he talked that Sternwood had an idea: a great idea. The women showed immediate interest. Their kids meant more to them than anything else in the world.

‘You come back tonight, mister. I’ll talk to my husband.’

Three women, obviously ruling the roost, signed up, and each gave him ten dollars to clinch the deal.

By lunch time, he had three sales and ten possible sales.

Feeling elated, he drove to the office, and as he entered a cool blast of air greeted him.

Karen was typing on an I.B.M. Executive and she paused to grin at him.

‘I’ve got two sales,’ she said. ‘They just walked in. How did you make out?’

‘Three and ten possibles. So you’ve got your typewriter and we’ve got air conditioning. You are a miracle worker!’

‘Pop’s the miracle worker if you know, as I do, how to handle him.’

As he handed her the three contracts, he regarded her, again feeling a sex urge run through him. This hadn’t happened to him when looking at other women since he had married Betty, and it disturbed him.

‘Your father is smart,’ he said. ‘He has a great idea.’

‘Oh, he’s smart all right.’ She studied the contracts, then laid them on her desk. ‘I’m starving. How about you?’

‘I’ll stick around. I don’t think we should close the office lunchtime. Someone might want to do business. Could I ask you to bring me a hot dog or something?’

‘Sure. I won’t be long,’ and she walked over to the counter, lifted the flap and crossed to the entrance door.

Ken watched her. There was this sensual movement of her hips, outlined by her tight jeans that turned him on. When she had gone, the office seemed utterly empty.

Leaving his office door open, he sat at his desk. He stared into space for a few moments, then called Betty at Dr. Heintz’s clinic.

‘Can you talk?’ he asked when she came on the line.

‘Make it fast, honey,’ Betty said briskly. ‘How’s it going?’

‘Looks good, but there’s the usual snag. I’ve ten prospects lined up for this evening. The trouble is the men are working and the wives can’t sign. I’m going to be late. Don’t expect me before ten.’

‘I’ll have some cold cuts for you.’ Betty was always practical about food. ‘But it looks good?’

‘Sure. Fine with you?’

‘The usual.’ A pause, then she asked, ‘How about Sternwood’s daughter?’

Ken was expecting her to ask that.

‘Seems okay.’ He made his voice casual. ‘Early days. I’ll give you details when I get home.’

‘Is she out of a freak show?’

Ken breathed heavily.

‘Well, no. I had a surprise, but she is a real toughie like her father. She’s definitely not my type.’

Immediately he had said this, he cursed himself. After living with Betty for four years, knowing how shrewd and perceptive she was, he realized he couldn’t have said anything more stupid.

‘Oh? This is news to me, Ken.’ Betty’s voice turned frosty. ‘I didn’t know you had a type.’

‘You are my type,’ he said hurriedly. ‘I just meant...’ What the hell had he meant?

‘I must go. See you sometime tonight,’ and she hung up.

Ken blew out his cheeks, then stared into space. His thoughts turned to Karen Sternwood. He now wished he hadn’t taken this promotion. At headquarters, his secretary, who Betty knew and liked, was fat, middle aged and smart. He wished he had had the guts to have told Sternwood he would either remain as head salesman, working the rich, or he would quit. But how was he to know he was to be landed with a sexy piece like Karen? He knew instinctively that she was one of so many girls who had no scruples, sex-wise. If she got the urge to be screwed, she got screwed. He thought uneasily that she and he would now be in constant close contact: just the two of them, often alone in the office.

He ran a sweating hand through his hair.

It takes two, he told himself. Watch it, Brandon! Watch it!

Then forcing his mind away from Karen, he began to work on this idea that had dropped into his mind.

Ken returned home at 22.45, hot, thirsty, hungry, but triumphant. Out of ten prospects he had visited, he had landed eight sales, and the other prospects were eager enough, but wanted time to think. This meant that he had made $195 commission on his first day as branch manager, and he hadn’t, as yet, scratched the surface. Yes, he thought, as he drove into his garage, Sternwood was smart.

While Karen had been lunching, he had drafted a prospectus, setting out in simple terms, what the Paradise Assurance Corporation could do for the young. Over the telephone, he had discussed his draft with the Sales Director at head office who had given him the green light. He had then hurriedly eaten the two hot dogs Karen had brought back with her, then telling her he would be out all the afternoon, he drove to the local school. He had talked to the Principal, a lean, youngish black who had welcomed his suggestions.

‘This may be shooting at the moon,’ Ken said, ‘but it could jell. If it does, I couldn’t cope at my office. Here’s what I suggest: would you be willing to let me use the school hall one evening so I can talk to the kid’s parents? Could I say I have your cooperation?’

The Principal didn’t hesitate.

‘Yes, Mr. Brandon. I’ll gladly cooperate, but may I make a suggestion? If you want a reasonable turn out of parents, I assure you, knowing them as I do, an evening meeting would be disappointing. The fathers have been at work all day, and they won’t be willing to go out again once they are home. The best time for a meeting would be Sunday afternoon at four o’clock. They will have had their Sunday dinner, rested and would then come.’

Ken grimaced. That would mean giving up his own Sunday, but he realized the Principal was talking sense.

‘Okay. I’ll make it Sunday afternoon.’

After more talk, the Principal gave him the names and addresses of four teenage blacks who he was sure, for a few dollars, would distribute the prospectus from house-to-house in the evenings, and could be relied on.

Ken then called on the local printers. They promised to have three thousand copies of the prospectus ready by Wednesday afternoon.

Satisfied, he had returned to the office. Sitting on Karen’s desk, he had told her what he had done.

‘How are you fixed for Sunday? I must have your help,’ he concluded. ‘Don’t tell me you have a date.’

‘I had, but it doesn’t matter. I think this is a marvellous idea. Pop will cheer.’ She smiled at him, and he was aware of the thrust of her breasts. ‘Anything else I can do? I do have a heavy date for tonight.’

‘Thanks a lot. This could jell, and I couldn’t handle it without you,’ Ken said. ‘You get off. I’ll be calling on these people. We’ve made a good beginning. See you tomorrow.’

He watched her leave, and the slow roll of her hips as she crossed to the door again turned him on. Again the office seemed utterly empty when she had gone.

Now, back home, he walked into his living room. Betty was watching television, but snapped it off as he came in. She began to smile, then her smile froze.

‘Ken! You haven’t been working, dressed like that?’

‘This is the new scene,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘Any beer? I’m starving!’

‘It’s all ready.’ She waved to the laid table. ‘I’ll get beer.’

He sat down and began to eat slices of beef and a mixed salad. Betty returned and placed a glass of beer on the table. She sat opposite him.

‘Tell me.’

While he ate, he gave her the details of his day. He didn’t mention Karen, nor did he tell her he would be working on Sunday for that day was strictly reserved when they were always together. He decided he would keep that news to end his recital.

‘I’ve made one hundred and ninety five dollars already in commission. How’s that?’

‘Marvellous! I knew you would be a success, darling.’ Betty paused, then went on, ‘But why this gear you’re wearing?’

‘When I got to the office — and what a dump! — I realized I was dressed all wrong,’ Ken said, helping himself to more salad. ‘Then Karen arrived, dressed any old way. So I came back and changed.’

‘Karen?’

‘The Sternwood girl.’ Ken pushed back his chair. ‘That was just what I needed. Suppose we go to bed? It’s getting late, and we’ve both got a hard day tomorrow.’

‘Tell me about her.’ Betty made no move to get up.

‘I told you. She’s like her father: tough and smart.’

‘What does she look like?’

‘Elaborately casual,’ he said, ‘The usual modern type you see on the streets. The usual uniform: skin tight jeans, T-shirt, dirty hair, but she’s smart all right.’

He regarded his immaculately groomed wife: her hair, glossy, her make-up, even at this late hour, perfect, her simple blue dress more than pleasing, and he thought of Karen in her with-it gear, throwing sex off like a laser beam.

‘Pretty?’

‘She’ll pass in a crowd.’ Now came the crunch. ‘There is something I forgot to tell you, honey. This school meeting has to be at four o’clock this Sunday.’

Betty stared at him, her eyes wide.

‘This Sunday! Ken! What are you thinking about? It’s Mary’s wedding anniversary!’

At the back of his mind, Ken had known that something had been arranged for Sunday, but he had been so carried away with his idea of talking to a room full of potential prospects, he had dismissed whatever had been arranged for something that could be postponed.

He looked at Betty in dismay.

‘I had completely forgotten! I’m sorry, but there was no way to get the school hall except this Sunday.’

‘But you can’t do this to Mary!’

Mary was Betty’s sister: a bossy, self-opinionated elder sister who Ken thoroughly disliked. Her husband, a corporation lawyer, was in Ken’s opinion, the biggest bore he had ever met. They had a large, imposing house in Fort Lauderdale. He remembered now they were to celebrate their tenth wedding anniversary. He remembered Betty and he had been invited to a barbeque lunch, then a big dinner with a firework display.

‘The prospectus is being printed, honey. I’m terribly sorry.’

Betty made a gesture of despair.

‘Oh, Ken!’

‘I just can’t cancel, honey. Sunday is the only day. I’m terribly sorry.’

‘When will you be through?’

‘Well, the meeting begins at four o’clock. It depends on the turn out. I should be through by seven.’

Betty brightened.

‘Then you could come for the fireworks.’

Ken thought of listening to Mary’s dreary yak and Jack’s pomposity. Their friends were all drags, but he nodded.

‘Sure. You’ll go?’

‘Go? Of course. The party won’t be over until midnight. You just must put in an appearance. Mary and Jack would be so hurt.’

Ken restrained a sigh.

‘Just as soon as this meeting is over, I’ll be on my way.’

She relaxed.

‘I’ll tell Mary and Jack why you have been kept. They’ll be impressed that you are in charge.’ She got up and began to clear the dishes. As Ken helped her, she went on, ‘Will you be working from now on, so late?’

‘I hope not. The trouble is, as I told you, the guy who has to sign is at work, but this meeting could fix it. If it is a success, then I don’t see why I should have to work late. We’ll have to see.’

They went into the kitchen and cleared up.

‘I suppose it’s worth it,’ Betty said suddenly.

‘What’s worth what?’

‘If you will have to work so late, Ken, I’m not going to see much of you.’

He put his arm around her and gave her a little hug.

‘Oh, come on, honey. Could be I won’t have to work late hours. This is my big chance, and it’s started well. I’ve already made a hundred and ninety five dollars.’

‘Money isn’t everything.’

‘It helps, doesn’t it?’

In bed together, Betty sleeping, Ken lay awake. The brilliant moonlight made patterns on the wall. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t get Karen’s provocative body out of his mind.

It wasn’t until the sky turned pale, as dawn approached, that lie drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

The school meeting was a flop.

Ken realized this the moment he entered the hall and now there were only a few whites and blacks, sitting in the chairs that he, Karen and Henry Byrnes, the School Principal helped by the four young blacks who had distributed the prospectuses, had set up: enough seats to accommodate five hundred people.

As he stood on the platform, surveying the people he made a rapid count: thirty-four!

A flop of flops, he thought, but with a wide welcoming smile, he went into his carefully prepared sales talk. This time less than ten minutes, then he asked for questions. The questions came, and he answered them. There was a panic, then a white truck driver said it was a hot idea and he would sign. There was a flurry of voices, and by 16.30, twenty-eight of Ken’s audience had taken out insurance policies for the future of their kids. The remaining six said they wanted to think about it.

The meeting closed at 16.45.

When the last of the parents had gone, Byrnes came over to Ken.

‘I’m afraid, Mr. Brandon, you are disappointed,’ he said, ‘but I can assure you, you have a big success. I know these people. They don’t like meetings. That’s why there was such a poor turnout. For thirty-four of them to come here is an achievement. These thirty-four will be your salesmen. They are going to brag about what they have done for their kids. Here, in Secomb, people are all close neighbours. The word will go around. You wait... you are going to be busy.’

Ken thanked Byrnes for his cooperation, shook hands and walked out into the hot sunshine with Karen at his side.

‘I hope he’s right,’ he said. ‘To me, that was a godawful flop.’

‘I think he’s smart,’ Karen said. ‘He could be right.’

He regarded her. They both had agreed that they should present a better image for the meeting. She had on a simple green cotton dress. He wore a blue, lightweight jacket and grey slacks. He had only recently bought the jacket. It sported miniature golf balls as buttons which he thought made the jacket pretty sharp. As they stood in the hot sunshine, he thought Karen looked sensational.

The past five days had passed quickly. Twice Alec Hyams, the Sales Director, had looked in. Ken was secretly amused to see that Hyams was most obsequious when speaking to Karen, asking her if she was happy with her typewriter and the air conditioning. Karen treated him as if he were of no importance, and pointedly went on with her typing.

While waiting for Sunday, Ken had called on the various stores and shops up and down Seaview Road, introducing himself and talking fire and accident insurance. He didn’t expect to get any business as everyone was already covered with other insurance companies, but he wanted to make contact and friends. His reception was good. Several of the store owners said it would be more convenient for them to take out policies with the Paradise when the present policies ran out, and would talk to him later.

Ken saw little of Karen who was kept busy card indexing, typing letters and talking to the various people who drifted in, making inquiries. In one way, Ken was relieved not to be in such close contact with her, but always, at the back of his mind, especially at night, he kept thinking of her, sexually.

The office closed Friday evening. He spent Saturday tending the garden, then he and Betty went to a movie in the evening and had dinner at a seafood restaurant. He kept wondering what Karen was doing. She had said she had to spend Saturday afternoon on her father’s yacht. ‘That’s a real drag. Pop’s friends are creeps. Maybe I can find an excuse...’

He had seen Betty off on Sunday morning. She had again urged him to come to Fort Lauderdale as soon as he could, and he had said he would.

Now, with the meeting over at 16.45, he realized with dismay, he could be at Fort Lauderdale within the hour. This meant he would be stuck with his dreary sister-in-law and brother-in-law until midnight!

Karen said suddenly, ‘Are you a handyman around the house?’

Surprised, he stared at her.

‘Why sure. Why the question?’

‘Just wondered. I guess you have a date right now. You couldn’t spare a couple of hours?’

Ken’s heart began to thump.

‘I’m in no rush. I do have a date, but not until eight o’clock. Anything I can do?’

‘I’ve just moved into my beach cabin. There are shelves to fix. Are you any good at fixing shelves?’

‘The best shelf fixer in the business. Beach cabin? Do you have a beach cabin?’

‘Strictly for weekends. I was there last night after I got rid of Pop and his creeps. It’s nice, but the shelves need fixing.’

They looked at each other. Ken hesitated. A red light began to flash in his mind. He thought of Betty. He told himself to make some excuse and drive over to the gruesome party, but no excuse came to mind. Karen, looking at him, a provocative smile on her full lips, was blatantly offering herself.

‘Maybe you want to go home,’ she said. ‘Some other time, huh?’

The red light snapped off and the green light came on.

‘I’ll be glad to help out,’ he said, aware his voice was husky. ‘How about tools? Maybe I had better go home and...’

‘I have everything,’ she said. ‘No problem. Let’s go.’

They got in his car.

‘It’s a godawful drag,’ she said, as she settled herself beside him. ‘Last week, I got caught speeding for the third time, and the fuzz have taken my licence away for a month. Last night, I had to take a taxi to the cabin.’

‘The cops here are sharp,’ Ken said, as he set the car in motion. ‘Where do we go?’

‘Paddler’s Creek. Know it?’

Ken registered surprise.

‘That’s the hippy colony.’

‘Right. My cabin is about half a mile from them. When I get bored, I visit them. They visit me.’ She laughed. ‘I dig them.’

‘That’s a pretty tough quarter.’

‘It’s fine.’

Ken stopped at the end of the lane and waited for a break in the Sunday traffic to move onto the highway. He kept telling himself he shouldn’t be doing this. He should be heading for Fort Lauderdale, but when the break came, he turned left, away from Fort Lauderdale, and drove along the busy highway.

Very aware of Karen as she sat by his side, he found nothing to say. His heart was thumping, and his hands on the steering wheel were moist.

Karen seemed content to relax, humming under her breath, one long leg crossed over the other.

After a mile or so, she said, ‘Take the next turning on the left.’

Ken slowed, signalled, and then, as other cars whizzed by him, he turned onto a narrow sandy road that led down to the sea. Ahead of him, he saw a thicket of Cypress and Mango trees.

‘Park here,’ Karen said. ‘We walk the rest of the way. It’s not far.’

He parked in the shade of the trees, and they both got out. The evening sun was still hot. As he locked the car, Karen walked into the thicket, following a narrow, sandy path. He stood for a moment, watching the swing of her well-rounded, provocative hips. Her walk really turned him on.

In the far distance, he could hear faint shouts, the sound of guitars and the thump of drums. The hippy colony was expressing itself. This part of the sandy beach was deserted. The citizens of Paradise City kept clear of Paddler’s Creek. Following Karen for a longish walk through dense thickets and flowering shrubs, watching the movement of her body, his heart now slamming against his ribs, Ken threw all caution to the winds. He knew he was going to be unfaithful to Betty. As he walked after Karen, he tried to assure his conscience that most men were unfaithful to their wives. He told himself he loved Betty, and no other woman could replace her, but this girl, walking ahead of him, had set him on fire. Betty would never know.

They came out of the thicket into a clearing. Ahead of them was a small pine wood cabin with a veranda.

‘Here it is,’ Karen said. ‘All mine!’

He followed her up three steps and onto the veranda. Taking a key from her bag, she unlocked the door. Together, they moved into one big room, and she closed the door.

The air conditioner was on. The sun blinds were down and the room was dim and pleasantly cool.

He stood by her side, looking around.

Simply and comfortably furnished with a big settee and three lounging chairs, a T.V. set, a cocktail cabinet, an oval table with four upright chairs, and in the far corner, a king’s sized divan, the room presented itself as a relaxing love nest.

His voice unsteady, Ken said, ‘Nice... well, to work. Where do you want your shelves?’

She laughed.

‘Come on, Ken! You know as well as I do there are no shelves. I want you. You want me.’ She unzipped the back of her dress and let it drop around her feet. She had on only a pair of white panties. She held out her arms to him.

Ken woke with a guilty start, finding himself in darkness. For a moment or so, he didn’t know where he was. He thought he was at home and in bed with Betty beside him. Then he remembered.

Darkness!

He groped around, found the bedside light switch and turned it on. By his side, satiated, Karen lay naked. Her long legs were spread wide, her hands covered her breasts. She opened her eyes as Ken swung his legs off the bed and stood up.

He was staring at his watch. The time was 20.20.

Karen had taken him like a widow spider, devouring him and utterly draining him. In his wildest erotic dreams, he had never imagined a woman could do to him what Karen had done. His lust for her had completely evaporated. Staring at his watch, he could think now only that he would be suspiciously late to join Betty at the party.

‘Look at the time!’ he exclaimed. ‘I must go!’

‘What’s the panic?’ Karen asked, her voice soft and lazy. ‘It was good, huh?’

He was struggling into his clothes.

He must have been out of his mind to have done this, he was thinking. Looking at Karen, as she lay on the bed, he felt revulsion. She was nothing better than a degraded whore. He had to get to Fort Lauderdale before the goddamn fireworks began!

‘I’ve got to go! My wife is expecting me!’

She laughed, throwing back her head and arching her body.

‘So you have to go. Don’t get so worked up, Ken.’

He was dressed now. He had no feeling except revulsion for her. He started to the door.

‘Ken!’ The cold snap in her voice stopped him. ‘You haven’t said goodbye.’

He paused, staring at her.

‘I shouldn’t have done it!’ he said. ‘We were out of our heads!’

She slid off the bed and came to him. Her nakedness made no impact.

‘Never have regrets, Ken,’ she said. ‘Always take an opportunity, and never regret.’

He scarcely heard her. His one feverish thought was to get to Fort Lauderdale.

‘I must go!’

‘It’s dark. Can you find your car?’

‘I’ll find it!’

‘Wait!’ She crossed the room and took a powerful flashlight from a drawer. ‘You’ll need this.’ As she gave him the flashlight, her fingers caressed his hand. ‘You are a marvellous lover.’

He paid no attention. Snatching the flashlight from her, he left the cabin and ran towards the path that led through the thickets. His one thought now was to get to Fort Lauderdale.

Using the beam of the flashlight to light his way, he ran along the path. Halfway towards his car, surrounded by shrubs and trees, a stink of decomposition suddenly assailed his nostrils. He stopped short, grimacing. Some animal had died, was his first thought. Moving forward slowly, keeping the beam of his flashlight playing on the path, he was aware the stink became stronger. It was now stomach turning.

He moved forward more slowly, then the beam of the flashlight lit up a body lying across the path. His heart hammering, bile in his mouth, Ken stared, then turned icy cold.

The body of the girl was naked. From her crotch to her rib cage, she had been ripped open. Her intestines lay in a gruesome grey puddle of blood by her side.

Ken shut his eyes, turned and started back along the path. Then the horror of what he had seen proved too much. He stopped and vomited. For several moments, he stood motionless, sweat running off his face, then slowly, with lagging steps, he returned to the cabin.

He pushed open the door and moved into the big room. Karen had put on a wrap. She spun around as he came in. Seeing his deathly pallor, her eyes widened in alarm.

‘What’s happened?’ The snap of her voice helped to bring him to his scattered senses.

‘There’s a girl out there... dead! Some maniac has murdered her!’ He dropped into a lounging chair. ‘She’s ripped! It’s terrible!’

She stood over him.

‘What the hell are you saying?’

‘Can’t you hear me?’ he shouted. ‘There’s a girl, murdered and ripped! We must call the police!’

Looking at his sweat covered face, his pallor and his shaking hands, Karen went to the cocktail cabinet and poured a huge Scotch. She thrust the glass at him. He drank greedily, shuddered and let the glass drop on the carpet. The jolt of the raw spirit stiffened him.

‘Pull yourself together!’ Karen snapped. ‘So there’s a dead girl! It’s nothing to do with you, and it’s nothing to do with me! Who the hell cares? Get off to your wife!’

‘I can’t reach my car!’ Ken said. ‘I couldn’t go past that awful thing!’

‘You can go by the beach. It takes a little longer.’ She went to her closet. Throwing off her wrap, she put on a swimsuit. ‘I’ll take you.’

Ken looked at his watch. The time now was 20.45.

‘It’s too late! I can’t get to Fort Lauderdale...’

‘Get hold of yourself! Call your wife. Tell her you have had a breakdown. Then go home!’ She snatched up the glass on the floor and poured another shot of Scotch. ‘Come on! Come on!’

He drank, then fortified, he took the telephone she thrust at him. For a moment he hesitated, then he dialled his brother-in-law’s number. He leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes. There was a pause, then a booming voice said, ‘Hi, there!’

‘Jack... this is Ken.’

‘Hi, fella!’ Jack sounded drunk. ‘We’re waiting for you. What’s holding you?’

‘Look, Jack, I’ve got a goddamn breakdown. I’m in a garage and the guy’s working on it now.’

‘Hey! What’s wrong?’

‘God knows! The engine just died on me. I’m sorry, Jack.’

‘You can’t do this to me, Ken! This is our anniversary! The big deal, Ken!’ A pause, then he went on, ‘If everyone wasn’t so stinking drunk, I’d get someone to collect you. Where are you?’

‘On the highway. Look, Jack, as soon as it’s fixed, I’ll be with you. Maybe it won’t take long. Explain to Betty.’

‘Sure... sure. They’re starting the fireworks. Come as soon as you can,’ and his brother-in-law hung up.

Ken replaced the receiver and stared up at Karen.

‘That body...’ He shuddered. ‘We must call the police!’

‘Ken! Use your head!’ Karen exclaimed. ‘The police? They would want to know what you were doing here when you should have been at your party. Do you imagine anyone would believe you came out here to fix shelves? Do you realize what my goddamn father would do if he found out you and I had spent time in this cabin? He’s dumb enough to think I’m still a virgin, but he’s not that dumb to know once he knew we were together here, that we haven’t been screwing! You would lose your job and I would lose this cabin! No police! Now, come on, let’s go!’

The Scotch Ken had drunk was now hitting him. She was right, he told himself. No police! As she had said, this ghastly murder was nothing to do with either of them. Some other person would find the body. He realized that if Sternwood found out he had committed adultery with Karen, he would not only give him the gate; but he would be vindictive enough to get him black listed. He would never be able to get another job in insurance. Then there was Betty! God! What a mess he had got himself into!

‘Come on!’ Karen said impatiently.

He followed her out into the humid heat of the night. Half walking, half running, she led him down to the beach, then skirting the thicket — Ken couldn’t bring himself to look at it, knowing the gruesome body lay there — she led him onto the beach. Then, once past the thicket, she moved inland. Turning a bend around a clump of scrub bushes, they suddenly came upon a man, walking fast towards them. The bright moonlight revealed him as tall, thin, bearded, wearing only a pair of tattered jeans, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. His shoulder length hair and his vast beard only showed eyes and a long, thin nose.

The man stopped.

‘Hi, there!’ he said.

Ken had an uneasy feeling the man was staring at them.

‘Hi!’ Karen said, smiling.

Ken felt cold sweat break out over his body, but he forced a smile.

‘Looking for Paddler’s Creek,’ the man said. Ken guessed he was around twenty years of age.

‘Straight ahead,’ Karen said. ‘About half a mile,’ and stepping around him, followed by Ken, she walked on.

‘He’ll know us again,’ Ken said huskily.

‘That fink? He wouldn’t know himself in a mirror,’ Karen said contemptuously.

Ken looked back. The bearded man was standing, looking after them. He raised his hand, then turning, headed towards the hippy colony.

‘Keep on,’ Karen said stopping. ‘Just around those trees is your car.’ She moved up to him and her arms went around his neck. ‘It was good, huh?’

The feel of her hot arms made Ken flinch.

‘It must never happen again,’ he said and moved away from her.

She laughed.

‘They all say that. The reservoir fills up.’ Her fingers caressed his cheek, then turning, she ran across the sand towards the sea.