gns.throwback-第10部分

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gered　it　all　off；　had　them　casting　their　inhibitions　overboard　and　telling　dirty　stories。　Sylvia　was　the　worst；　Eric　winced；　wondered　where　the　hell　she　had　heard　them　all；　but　after　a　bit　he　didn't　care。　None　of　them　did。
　　
　　Alan　began　bemoaning　the　fact　that　he　hadn't　had　a　woman　for　three　months；　almost　cried。　So　frustrated　that　he　was　toying　with　the　idea　of　having　a　week　in　London　and　spending　his　nights　in　Soho。　That　was　when　Sylvia　had　e　up　with　her　offer；　straight　out　with　it　like　she　might　have　been　asking　Alan　to　go　to　the　club　with　them　next　Saturday　night。　'How　would　you　like　to　screw　me；　Al？'　She　was　deadly　serious；　a　genuine　offer。　'I　know　Eric　won't　mind；　not　just　this　once；　will　you；　Eric？'

　　
　　Suddenly　everybody　had　sobered　up　into　a　stunned　silence；　all　eyes　on　Eric。　Well；　Eric；　you　won't　mind；　will　you？
　　
　　No；　I　don't　mind；　not　at　all。　You　fuck　her；　Al；　leave　her　lying　up　there　on　the　bed　ready　for　me　when　you've　finished。　Sylvia　and　Alan　drained　their　glasses；　went　out　of　the　room。　Eric　poured　himself　a　stiff　brandy　with　a　shaking　hand；　found　himself　listening　to　them　moving　about　in　the　bedroom　directly　above　the　dining…room；　pictured　the　scene。　Sylvia　couldn't　wait　to　get　everything　off；　she　was　always　like　that；　Al　maybe　nervous　and　losing　his　initial　erection；　having　difficulty　getting　it　up　again。
　　
　　It　wasn't　fair　to　eavesdrop　on　them。　Eric　heard　the　bed　creak　the　way　it　always　did　when　you　got　in；　stood　up　and　walked　unsteadily　across　the　room；　switched　on　the　stereo。　A　slow　rhythm　on　the　first　track；　speeding　up　on　the　second；　just　like　those　two　upstairs。
　　
　　God；　this　was　the　ultimate　in　eroticism；　everything　he　had　ever　fantasised　about　ing　true　in　one　electrifying　session。　He　wondered　if　Sylvia　had　ever　done　it　with　anybody　else　since　they　had　been　married。　He　told　himself　she　had；　she　must　have；　he　wanted　it　that　way。　Those　nights　when　he　was　away　。　。　。
　　
　　He　thought　maybe　the　clock　on　the　mantelshelf　had　stopped；　stooped　and　put　his　ear　up　against　it　but　couldn't　be　sure　over　the　music。　12。10。　Christ；　they'd　been　up　there　an　hour　and　a　half；　Al　was　really　giving　Sylvia　a　banging；　making　up　for　everything　he　had　been　forced　to　go　without　over　the　past　months。
　　
　　It　was　12。35　when　he　heard　Alan　go；　footsteps　in　the　hall；　the　front　door　closing　softly；　a　kind　of　guilty　click。　In　a　way　it　was　a　disappointment；　his　best　mate　slinking　off；　not　wanting　to　face　him。　Sorry；　Eric；　I've　screwed　your　wife　and　I　feel　pretty　bad　about　it。　Don't；　Al；　it's　been　a　great　evening。　For　me；　too。
　　
　　Sylvia　hadn't　had　enough　whatever　had　gone　on；　that　much　was　plain。　When　Eric　entered　the　bedroom　she　was　lying　on　top　of　the　quilt；　legs　lewdly　spread；　a　small　damp　patch　on　the　material　between　them；　eyes　closed；　ecstasy　not　guilt。
　　
　　He　went　straightway　to　her；　no　preliminaries；　pushing　right　into　her；　feeling　the　liquid　warmth　of　adulterous　seed。　God；　what　a　night；　he　made　it　twice；　almost　a　third　time。　If　ever　he　needed　a　fantasy　for　the　future　then　this　was　it。
　　
　　Three　or　four　times　after　that　Al　came　round　and　it　got　to　be　a　Saturday　night　routine。　Too　much　of　a　routine　probably；　too　clinical；　and　nothing　could　ever　match　that　first　night。　Then　Alan　found　himself　a　girlfriend；　moved　in　to　live　with　her　and　that　was　the　end　of　that。　But　Sylvia　had　had　a　taste　of　the　grass　on　the　other　side　and　she　wasn't　going　to　let　it　drift　away　like　that。
　　
　　He　wondered　to　himself　now　as　he　sat　on　the　edge　of　his　hotel　bed　just　who　had　set　up　that　relationship　with　the　Joneses。　They　had　known　George　and　Marie　for　two　or　three　years　but　it　had　never　been　more　than　a　casual　dropping　in　on　each　other　at　infrequent　intervals。　Then　one　Friday　when　Eric　returned　home　Sylvia　seemed　more　vivacious　than　usual；　told　him　that　they　had　been　invited　over　to　have　a　few　drinks　with　George　and　Marie　the　next　night。　Nothing　to　get　excited　about　but　Sylvia　certainly　was。　He　sensed　then　that　something　was　in　the　air。　No；　it　couldn't　be；　the　Joneses　were　far　too　conventional；　even　went　to　church　some　Sundays。　Unless　Sylvia　was　casting　her　line　for　George；　Eric　wouldn't　put　it　past　her。　But　he　was　curious　enough　to　want　to　find　out。
　　
　　It　was　damned　funny　the　way　that　evening　had　trickled　on　into　the　early　hours　before　anybody　（Sylvia）　made　a　positive　move。　Half…innuendoes　became　innuendoes　fired　by　a　cheap　bottle　of　Scotch。　The　Joneses　couldn't　really　afford　drinking　on　this　scale；　George　was　on　the　dole　and　he　wasn't　the　type　to　go　moonlighting。　Too　honest；　too　bloody　conventional。　Except　when　Sylvia　and　Scotch　got　to　him。
　　
　　Sylvia　engineered　it　all；　nobody　actually　came　right　out　with　it　and　said；　'Shall　we　swap；　then？'　Somehow　she　got　herself　on　to　George's　lap　in　the　armchair　and　left　Eric　and　Marie　together　on　the　settee。　A　lot　of　couples　change　over　for　a　bit　of　snogging　when　everybody's　had　too　much　to　drink；　Eric　decided；　didn't　dare　try　for　a　feel。　It　would　all　fizzle　out　before　long；　and　then　the　party　would　break　up；　he　didn't　want　to　make　a　fool　of　himself。
　　
　　Out　of　the　corner　of　his　eye　he　saw　George　and　Sylvia　slipping　out　of　the　room；　heard　them　going　upstairs。　There　couldn't　be　any　further　doubt；　Marie　was　expecting　him　to　play　his　part　in　this　sexy　foursome。
　　
　　She　was　OK；　a　bit　nervous　at　first；　then　he　broke　through　the　barrier　and　she　exploded。　In　fact；　she　couldn't　get　enough；　unbottled　every　inhibition　which　she　had　ever　had　during　the　next　hour。　But　it　wasn't　her　that　was　turning　him　on　like　this；　had　him　achieve　that　elusive　third　orgasm。　It　was　the　knowledge　that　Sylvia　was　upstairs　revelling　in　another　session　of　red…hot　infidelity。
　　
　　It　was　funny　how　they　never　swapped　with　the　Joneses　again　after　that　night；　never　even　called　round　for　a　quick　drink；　didn't　even　get　a　card　from　them　at　Christmas。　Something　had　gone　wrong　somewhere　along　the　line。　Maybe　Marie　had　had　a　fit　of　jealousy　in　the　cold　sobering　light　of　a　November　Sunday　morning。
　　
　　And　Sylvia　seemed　to　lose　her　enthusiasm　for　the　way…out　scene　too。　Just　like　that；　a　marital　screw　at　weekends　but　she　didn't　even　try　to　lure　Eric　into　anything　else。　He　even　got　to　thinking　that　she'd　had　her　wild　fling　and　had　decided　to　resign　herself　to　the　dull　routine　of　a　straightforward　marriage　even　though　they　were　apart　five　nights　of　most　weeks。
　　
　　Then　rumours　trickled　back；　a　muddled　jigsaw　that　needed　a　lot　of　piecing　together。　In　remote　rural　areas；　it　was　true；　the　last　person　to　hear　stories　concerning　one's　wife　is　oneself。
　　
　　It　was　that　nut　up　at　the　organic　farm　who　was　shagging　Sylvia。　It　figured。　It　was　funny　how　Eric　experienced　a　pang　of　jealousy　the　first　time　he　found　out　for　sure。　If　it　had　been　Al　or　George　it　wouldn't　have　mattered。　They　were　ordinary　guys　who　just　wanted　a　fuck；　nothing　more；　a　thrill　to　boost　their　own　marriages　the　same　way　that　Eric　needed　one　now。　It　ended　when　you　came；　as　simple　as　that。　But　this　fellow　was　different。　His　wife　was　a　flighty　bit　of　stuff；　if　all　the　stories　about　her　were　true；　going　off　on　her　own　at　nights　to　nightclubs　and　doubtless　getting　herself　shafted。　The　ice　was　dangerously　thin　in　that　quarter。
　　
　　Jon　Quinn　needed　more　than　sex；　he　needed　to　fill　a　gap；　panionship。　And　that　could　be　dangerous。　The　guy　was　one　of　these　food…freaks　who　thought　everybody　else　should　be　also；　so　he　was　marketing　organic　produce　and　preaching　that　chemicals　were　poisoning　half　the　population　of　the　world。
　　
　　Then　Sylvia　had　started　dishing　up　these　funny　meals　at　weekends；　no　longer　proper　salads　with　lettuce；　tomato　and　cucumber；　but　all　sorts　of　fruit　mixed　up　with　nuts。　Just　weaning　her　husband　on　to　nuts。　A　nut…roast　next。　Jesus；　she　was　really　going　nuts！
　　
　　Gradually　Eric　Atkinson　was　aware　of　his　marriage　slipping　away　from　him；　an　erosion　that　revealed　itself　in　a　number　of　ways。　Sylvia's　personality　was　changing；　being　morose。　Because　her　mind　was　on　Jon　Quinn。　When　she　prepared　a　vegetarian　meal　it　was　for　him；　not　Eric；　regardless　of　who　ate　it　or　slyly　tipped　it　into　the　waste…bin。
　　
　　Eric　had　wondered　what　to　do　about　it。　Should　he　tackle　her　outright？　No；　she　might　lie　to　him　and　whatever　else　she　had　done　she　had　never　lied。　If　she　did　that　then　he　would　lose　his　respect　for　her　and　then　it　would　al！　be　over。　That　he　didn't　want；　oh　Christ　Almighty　no。　A　sudden　realisation；　in　spite　of　it　all　he　loved　Sylvia。　God　yes；　and　he　missed　her　like　hell。　Which　was　why　he　had　other　women　whilst　he　was　away　from　home。　Substitutes；　each　and　every　one　of　them　was　a　Sylvia。
　　
　　So　he　had　let　her　carry　on　with　Jon　Quinn；　afraid　to　detonate　the　affair　into　something　he　couldn't　handle。　Each　weekend　he　went　home　with　the　same　nagging　fear；　his　mouth　dry；　his　guts　in　knots。　I'm　sorry；　Eric；　I'm　leaving。　Really；　I'm　sorry；　please　believe　me；　but　I　need　a　husband　not　just　a　weekend　lover。　Or　maybe　just　a　note　left　on　the　mantelshelf；　the　easy　way　out。
　　
　　But　it　hadn't　happened　and　he　had　e　to　the　decision　that　just　by　letting　the　affair　continue；　it　wouldn't。　It　might　go　on　for　years。　Basically　it　boiled　down　to　this　bloody　job。　Reps　were　married　to　their　firms。　You　gave　them　everything　or　else　you　were　out　on　your　ear。　They　bought　your　marriage；　your　life；　months　and　years　which　you　could　never　retrieve；　all　for　a　pittance　of　a　salary　offset　by　reasonable　expenses。
　　
　　So　he　let　it　go；　just　like　that。　Every　weekend　he　came　home　to　an　organic　diet　that　had　a　distinct　Quinn　flavour　about　it；　got　a　thrill　out　of　screwing　Sylvia　in　the　same　way　that　he　had　that　night　when　Al　had　first　had　her；　and　it　would　be　this　way　until　he　retired　at　65。　Fuck　the　firm；　they　didn't　even　offer　him　a　redundancy　when　they　had　drastic　cut…backs　three　years　ago。　No　golden　handshake　for　him。　Maybe　it　was　as　well；　though；　because　if　he　fouled　up　Sylvia's　little　game　she　might　take　off　and　go　and　live　with　Quinn。　Don't　poke　the　sleeping　lion；　as　the　saying　went。
　　
　　Marlene　was　the　nearest　he'd　found　to　Sylvia　yet。　Sophisticated；　sexy；　her　husband　was　an　'area　manager'；　an　up…market　rep。　He　sometimes　stayed　away　weekends　too；　it　was　a　vicious　circle；　t