Sleep was a total impossibility for Dianne though she had gone shamefully to her room, plunged it into darkness and crawled onto the bed to avoid looking at her own conscience-stricken face. That she had not only let it happen, but had even encouraged it was now so incredible to her as to be like the living unreality of a nightmare one finally awakens to bathed in cold perspiration… except that this was no bad dream… it was the horrifying truth!

She couldn't cry. It might have helped, but venting tears had never been a part of her character. Though how in God's name she could ever face her husband again after the obscene lechery of her act with the young boy was at that moment beyond all reasoning. Her brain felt like the main-spring of a watch that had been wound too tight and unable to perform.

How long she lay there in an almost numbed state of bitter remorse before getting up again, slipping on her robe and quietly going into the kitchen, the guilt-filled, young wife had no idea. Her slender hands trembled as she poured Bacardi into a glass, filled it with ice and added cola, the only alcoholic drink she had ever been able to stomach, and certainly she had to have something before that main-spring helplessly snapped! She carried her glass into the living room to sit in the darkness near the front window, unable even in her wretchedness to deny the tiny sensations of lust still lingering inside her from her lewd sucking of Kye's young virile hardness!

The handsome teenager had shockingly amazed her in every respect, Dianne thought as she sipped rapidly at her Cuba Libre. His genuinely innocent immoralness… lying there openly stroking himself… and the obscene things he had told her… God, it had all been too much for her in the smoldering, sensually fired existence she'd been struggling through, waiting forever it seemed… waiting for Mark… And what was there about her pilot husband which had suddenly given her an uneasy feeling, as if there were some shady mystery connected with him?