Naked Came the Stranger - By Penelope Ashe Page 0,69

He wanted to be nice to Myrna, and he knew he was being nasty. There was no softness to her, no grace. She was annoying. Skinny, nervous, darting, bugging him all the time. He snapped at her, and she told him to watch himself in front of the boy. "I don't know what's gotten into you," she said.

They were sitting on the patio, and the May sun was giving Melvin a headache. He wondered what Gillian Blake was doing, and he thought about what it would be like with her on a patio. Gilly, Gilly. He looked at Myrna and tried to smile. "You're right," he said. "I apologize."

"I' m sorry I yelled at you," she answered.

"It's okay," he said. Damn her. She was wearing an outfit like the one Gillian Blake had worn the day before, but on Myrna it just hung. Melvin got up and went into the house. "I have to go to the bathroom," he said.

He was at his desk the following day, when Gillian Blake called him. Just like that. "Hi sweetie, this is Gilly." Wow!

"Look," he said. "Uh, about what happened Saturday. I, well, I??"

"You enjoyed it," she said.

"Yes, but what I have to say is that, um, well is, uh??

"Don't say anything. Or better still, tell me at lunch."

"No," he said. "I couldn't, I mean??"

"Don't tease a girl, Mel. I said lunch and I mean lunch." She named a place in the East Fifties. "One o'clock," she said.

They had lunch. It was a French place. Even the vegetables were fancy. Sitting at a table with her, Melvin felt like a million dollars. He could feel the other men in the room looking at him enviously. He found himself drinking a Bloody Mary.

"We can't see each other any more," Melvin said.

"Nonsense," she said.

"You don't understand. I mean, you're the most exciting woman I've ever known."

"Well, what's wrong with that?"

"I know this sounds silly, but I just can't do something like that to my wife."

"I don't want you to do it to your wife," she said. "I want you to do it to me."

Melvin was shaking. He ordered lobster tails, but he was never conscious of tasting them. All he was conscious of was Gillian, who was sensational in a simple black dress with a strand of pearls. He had another Bloody Mary, and lapsed into half-stammers. He couldn't stop looking at her. She had ordered snails, and was popping them into her mouth.

In the taxi on the way back to her office, Melvin told Gillian once more that he couldn't see her again. She smiled. Then she took his hand and stuck it beneath her skirt, moving it up her leg to where the nylon ended and the flesh began. Then she kissed him, and their tongues were inside each other's mouths. Melvin remembered thinking that, if it wasn't for the Bloody Marys, he probably would have come.

"Jeez," the cabbie said afterward, as he dropped Melvin off at his office. "that was Gillian Blake, wasn't it?"

"Yes," said Melvin.

The cabbie kept staring at him.

"Uh, she's a neighbor," Melvin explained.

That night was worse than the one before. Gilly never left his mind. Myrna had spent a difficult day: She had lost a garden club election, the cleaning girl had gotten sick and David had misbehaved in school. "You've got to deal with him," Myrna said.

"What's wrong with you?"

"You're the father."

"Look, I've had a hard day at the office."

"And what about me? That damn girl. You see how you like cleaning this house."

"Maybe you need a little work. Maybe then you won't be such a goddamn nervous wreck."

"Oh, is that what I am? And what about you? I don't think you've heard a word I said in the last three days."

"Dammit, Myrna, leave me alone, will you?"

"You really are upset, aren't you?" Myrna said as she looked at him. "All right, I'm sorry I snapped at you. So what's the matter?"

"For crying out loud," Melvin, screamed. "Get off my back, will you!"

"Melvin, what is it?"

"Aw, shut the hell up, you skinny bitch!"

Myrna ran upstairs crying. That night, Melvin slept on the playroom couch. Gilly, Gilly. God, but he wanted to make love to her. But he couldn't. He just couldn't. It was wrong. Wrong. It was against everything that mattered. It was, well, immoral. He just hadn't been brought up that way. He was no crazy Gentile. He just couldn't.

Poor Myrna, he thought. He did love her. They had so much else together, so much that was