Authors: Robbins Harold
At first there were many men, for Dania was aware that her mother could never furnish the money necessary to complete her musical training. But they did not reach her. It was almost as if from a distance she watched them writhe and spend themselves upon her, then took from them the little they had to offer. Then there was one, and that he was thirty years older did not matter. He was fifty-five, but rich enough to afford all that remained to be done. More important, he was well enough connected to make it possible. She was twenty when they married.
In her own way Dania had been honest enough with him. There was to be nothing between them but music, nothing that might interfere or distract her from her career. Blinded by her talent, he humbly forswore the few remaining years of his manhood and not once in the ten years of their marriage had they ever gone to bed together.
There were other men, and he knew it. Like the tenor who had got her the role of Carmen at La Scala, or the famous composer-conductor who brought her to the Metropolitan in New York. Now Dania was thirty and needed no one, not even him, and even this he accepted. He was content that she bore his name and he could bask in the bright sun of her talent.
But now Dania was no longer content. She thought she could detect the first faint traces of a weakening in her voice and suddenly she was filled with the fear that when it did go she would have nothing, that she would be condemned to spending the rest of her life in genteel splendor with an old man.
It was then that she had met Marcel. In him already rich, already powerful, Dania saw traces of herself. The same selfish greeds and desires. That he was married and had children did not matter; she as an artist was above such things. What did matter was that he like all the others was subservient to her talent, and that he mistook her passion and fire upon a stage as also a sexual capacity.
She waited confidently. Marcel obtained his divorce as she had thought he would. But then something went wrong. He did not ask her to divorce her husband and marry him. He seemed quite content to drift along as they had. Dania realized there were many problems besetting him, and after a while she settled into a routine of watchful waiting. That he would marry her in time she had no doubt. Meanwhile there would be nothing lost since she still had her husband in reserve.
Over Marcel's head she saw Dax and Sue Ann talking and laughing. Suddenly Dania was bored with his mechanical dancing. She tapped Marcel on the shoulder. "Come, let us sit down. I am tired."
"I'm sorry," Dax apologized, "but I must go. I have an early plane to catch for Boston in the morning."
"But it's scarcely three o'clock," Marcel protested.
"I know, but I have a lunch appointment with James Hadley."
"I'm tired too," Dania said suddenly. "It's been a long day, Marcel, let's go."
Suddenly Marcel became stubborn. "No, I wish to stay."
Dania stared at him. She knew instantly that he was trying to assert himself. Well, this was as much her game as his. "Stay then," she said, rising. "The world does not have to stay up all night merely because you can't sleep."
"I'll have to go, too," Sue Ann said.
Marcel looked up at them, from one to the other. Suddenly his eyes were hooded and veiled. "All right," he replied, his voice unexpectedly soft, "take my limousine. But tell the chauffeur to come back for me after he drops you off."
Dax settled into the back seat of the big car between the two of them. The chauffeur turned and looked back questioningly. "You can drop me off first," Dax said. "The consulate is nearest."
The chauffeur nodded, and the window between him and the back seat rolled up. "You don't mind?" Dax asked.
The two women shook their heads.
He was reaching for a cigarette when he felt their hands. Dania on his right, Sue Ann on his left. He smiled to himself in the darkness and slipped his own hands up under their dresses. Sue Ann was already wet but Dania was hot and dry, her pubic hair crinkly under his fingers. At almost the same moment, their hands found his manhood. And each other.
They stared across him in surprise. He could feel his own juices begin to rise as they leaned forward to look down at him, then at each other.
Dax laughed aloud. He raised his hands and placed one on each of their heads pontifically. "Bless you, my children."
CHAPTER 3
James Hadley leaned back in the chair. "You have already spoken to Jeremy about this?"
Dax nodded. "He said he would give me all the help he could. But he suggested that you might be able to do even more. That's why I came to see you."
Hadley glanced out the window at the rain, then back at Dax. "Perhaps I can." He leaned forward unexpectedly. "Did Jeremy tell you that he is leaving politics?"
"No." Dax was surprised. "He said nothing about it to me."
"Well, he is; at least, elective politics. He is more interested in going into the State Department. The rough and tumble of the other does not appeal to him."
"Surely that is not the only reason?"
Hadley grinned ruefully. "No, Jeremy has made up his mind to marry that German girl. And he knows that the voters would never vote for a congressman with a foreign wife, especially a divorcee, in Catholic Boston."
Dax did not answer. There was a moment's silence, then Hadley continued. "Jeremy has pledged his support to Jack Kennedy. Kennedy will go for the Senate in fifty-two, the vice presidency in fifty-six, the presidency in sixty. Jeremy promised him he would go down the line."
Dax felt a wave of pity for the old man. It had to be a bitter pill for him to swallow. Those were his exact plans for his own son. Now it was someone else who had taken them over.
"So that is what Jeremy meant when he said you might be able to help me," he said softly. "Do you know the Kennedys?"
Hadley nodded. "They have a place not far from us at Palm Beach. They're a high up family."
Dax smiled at the description, for Hadley's wasn't exactly a small one. "Do you think they might be interested in helping?"
"They might," Hadley said. "I don't doubt that Jeremy will talk to Jack, and I'll see what I can do with his father. They're very much interested, I understand, in bringing the South American countries more actively into the UN."
Suddenly he changed the subject. "Did you see Marcel while you were in New York?"
"I had dinner with him last night." Dax took out a cigarette. "He seems overly upset about his draft call."
"Marcel is a fool. What does he expect when he flaunts himself in everyone's face? People are bound to resent him. I told him to lay low, to keep out of the nightclubs and the newspapers. But he wouldn't listen."
"What should he do?"
"I advised him to go in quietly. At his age he'll wind up at a desk job anyway. Then after he's in, a discharge could be arranged for him. But Marcel won't. He won't listen."
"What will happen then?"
Hadley looked across the desk. "If Marcel keeps on like this he'll destroy himself. The one thing you can't beat in this country is public opinion. He's already identified in the public's mind as a draft dodger."
Dax got to his feet. "You must be very busy. I won't presume on any more of your time."
Hadley watched him to the door. "Dax?"
Dax turned. "Yes?"
"You're a strange man, Dax. We've spoken much about business, but never once did you mention Caroline."
Dax shrugged. "What was there to say?"
Hadley met his gaze steadily. "In my own way, you know, I loved her."
"So did I," Dax answered quietly. "Also in my own way."
"She was not for you, and evidently not for me either."
Dax did not speak.
"Have you seen her or heard from her?"
Dax shook his head. "No; from what I hear she is still living with her father in Paris."
"I have not seen her either," Hadley said, a curious note of sadness in his voice. "Is it too late for me to apologize for what I have done?"
Dax looked at him silently for a moment before he answered. "There's no reason for you to apologize. Perhaps it's both of us who should apologize to Caroline."
James Hadley stared at the closed door for a moment, then picked up the telephone on his desk. Perspective, he thought, everything was a matter of perspective. Jeremy's decision to abandon politics, Marcel's to fight the draft board. Even Dax's viewpoint about Caroline.
His secretary's voice in his ear interrupted his train of thought. "Yes, Mr. Hadley?"
What had he picked up the telephone for? "Oh, yes," he said aloud, remembering. "Get Joe Kennedy for me."
Sue Ann and Dania were in Dax's apartment at the consulate when he got in from the airport. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "What are you two doing here?"
"We came to take you out to dinner," Sue Ann said.
"Not me." Dax crossed the living room to his bedroom door. "I'm staying in tonight and going to bed early. I'm leaving for Japan in the morning."
Sue Ann grinned. "Then we'll stay and have dinner with you. You don't think we'd let you spend your last night before going off to war alone, do you?"
"I have a lot to do. Papers to sign and that sort of thing."
"You go right ahead," Sue Ann said quickly. "We'll just make ourselves comfortable, and I'll call a caterer to send up a divine dinner."
Dax stared at her. "Exactly what do you have on your obscene little mind?"
"Obscenities, what else?" Sue Ann's expression changed swiftly to a look of mock horror. "Do you know what I found out last night?"
"No."
"Dania is twenty-seven years old. She's been to bed with more than a dozen men and she's never once had an orgasm. Isn't that terrible?"
"It all depends." Dax looked at Dania. "How does she feel about it?"
Dania met his gaze evenly, her face impassive.
"Well, I think it's horrible. When I heard about it I knew just what I had to do. Once, just once, she has to have a real man."
Still looking at Dania, Dax said, "Maybe she's queer?"
"Not a chance, I've been with enough dikes to know."
Dax turned back to Sue Ann. "And where do you expect to be while all this is going on?"
"Right here, honey." She grinned. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. And I'm not selfish, there's more than enough for the both of us."
"She's passed out," Dax said, rolling over on his side and looking up at Sue Ann.
"So would I if I'd waited twenty-seven years for my first orgasm." She made a face. "I don't know what took her so long, though. You were banging her for more than an hour. I came three times just watching. I was beginning to think you'd never get her over the hump."
She reached her hand down. Her expression changed swiftly and a hunger came into her face. "You're still hard!"
Suddenly Dax's private telephone began to ring.
"Now who the hell is that?" Sue Ann asked in an annoyed voice.
Dax reached for the phone. "We'll see."
"Who is it?" Sue Ann whispered.
Dax covered the receiver with his hand. "Marcel." He moved his hand. "Yes?"
"Is Dania there with you?"
"No."
"She is with you!" Marcel shouted accusingly. 'T checked everywhere. She has to be with you. I just heard her whispering."
A withering look crossed Sue Ann's face. She took the telephone from Dax's hand. "Marcel, this is Sue Ann. Don't be an idiot, and please stop bothering us! We're in bed."
Calmly she dropped the telephone back on its cradle. "That ought to hold him," she said in a satisfied voice. She looked down at the sleeping Dania. "I don't know what she sees in that greedy little bastard." She reached for him again. "You're amazing. Nothing distracts you, does it?"
He shook his head.
She settled back against the pillows. "You know, in a way I'm glad we're kind of alone. I thought it would be kicky, you know, the three of us together. But after a while I found myself getting jealous."
"It was your idea," he said, moving over her.
"Not yet," she said, her hands on his shoulders, pushing him down. "Eat me a little. You know how I love it when you eat me."
CHAPTER 4
There were perhaps a thousand ways Dax could have died in Korea but not one of them was in battle. The closest he was ever allowed to the front lines was at the officers' club in Seoul, where once a week they gathered to look at the newsreels about the progress of the war flown in from Tokyo. For fifteen months he sat at a special desk in GHQ, in charge of liaison with the Latin American forces. But there was very little for him to do. There weren't any Latin American forces.
At first he would report promptly at eight o'clock and spend a full day at his desk doodling on a yellow pad of paper. At five o'clock he would return the yellow pad neatly to the empty drawer of his desk and lock it. Then he would walk over to the officers' club to have a drink and listen to the latest gossip. At seven he would go to dinner, and by ten he was usually in bed.
Once a week he would present himself to the assistant to the Chief of Staff and inquire whether there was any news about the availability of his troops, and each week the answer would be the same. After a while he stopped coming to his desk every day. Once a week was enough. And if he missed a week now and then, no one seemed to care.
He moved from the officers' quarters and took a small house out near the officers' country club. Each morning and afternoon now found him on the golf course. In three months he had brought his game down into the low seventies.
One afternoon after almost six months in the new house, he came home unexpectedly. The sound of voices came to him from behind the house and, curious, he strolled around to the back of the house.
Fat Cat was standing in the center of a group of women, a bored expression on his face. The women were all jabbering at once.
"What's going on here?"
At the sound of Dax's voice Fat Cat jumped, and the women immediately fell silent, hiding behind him.
Dax looked at them, then at Fat Cat. "What do they want? What are they doing here?"