Fiercely proud as he was, it was important to Ray that his wife should be a woman whom no other man besides himself had ever possessed… or ever would possess!

Once they were married, though, he had looked for a change in her standoffish attitude. He knew she loved him and had been eager to marry as soon as possible. He had mistakenly believed she was just as eager for the physical side of marriage, but from the first night, sex had been a fiasco… his bride seemed to turn into a lump of ice under him. Maybe it took more time than he'd realized, especially for a girl brought up in a very conventional manner as Sally had been.

Absently, he carried the empty cola cups out to the soda fountain. The girl reached out to take them, tossing the paper liners into the trash can and stacking the gleaming metal bases expertly on a shelf.

"Something else for you, Mr. Denham?" she inquired solicitously, her made-up dark eyes bright with curiosity. No doubt she'd overheard the row with John Blodgett.

"Uh, no… thanks," he stared at her. God, he couldn't even remember the little tart's name; she was new… long black hair fixed into an elaborately artificial set and a long slender body that seemed far too mature for her sixteen or so years. Ray ran his suddenly dry tongue around his mouth… it must be the whiskey… sweet little ass, Blodgett had said… Christ, it was a beautiful ass, perfectly outlined by the electrically clinging nylon fabric… and all at once he found himself wondering what it would be like to rip the skimpy uniform off the girl… spread her legs out.

Drops of sweat beaded on Ray's brow. Yes, how would it feel to ram his cock into that soft little belly? Christ, he groaned inwardly, how could he think of such things when he had a beautiful young wife upstairs at this very moment? He hadn't so much as looked at another girl since he married Sally.