The Insiders

I know, I know! But Peter, I need help. Honestly I do. What's happening to me? I wake up at night and ask myself that. I'm scared—and yet I'm more scared of losing David—or whatever crumbs of his time he allows me—than of anything else.

I might have known. Why do I get drawn into analyzing the females I fuck? All right, Eve. Tell me. Is David very different now from the way he was when you two first started going together?

He's different; I'm different. I'm at a disadvantage now, you see—he knows I'm in love with him. God, I can't help saying it; the words seem to slip out. And he takes advantage. He treats me so casually now, like a possession. And I am his possession, I suppose, only he wasn't supposed to know that.

Just the other day, when we were together in his apartment—I don't even know if I should be telling you this—

Don't stop just when you were starting to get me so interested, darling. Go on—you know what I like to hear.

I suppose it doesn't really matter—you know we fuck, David and I. And that's what we were doing, right on the couch, with our clothes on. He likes doing it that way sometimes.

It was a Saturday, and he'd just picked me up at my place—he was expecting his family, the three kids, you know, to come up to the city for the day, and he was in a hurry. We—we try out new positions sometimes, and—well, he had me lying with my shoulders braced against the rug while he sat on the couch with my legs up on either side of him. And he was moving me onto him. It was—it was really kind of wild. Like the look on your face right now, Peter.

But anyhow, quite suddenly, right in the middle of it all, the damn doorbell rang, and he dropped me—pushed me away from him on my back onto the rug as if what we were doing had suddenly become—dirty—just like that! And suddenly he was standing up, zipping himself back into his pants, and looking down at me with a kind of distaste.

He— Know what he said? "Get up, for God's sake, Eve. You look like some cheap whore, lying there that way."

And in that moment I hated him—God, how I hated him! But not as much as I hated myself for being there and for letting him treat me like that— use me and then shove me aside.

So what happened?

Nothing. I got up and disappeared into the bathroom to repair my makeup and get hold of myself.

While he let the kids in. Did I say kids? Mistake. Francie is no kid. That's Dave's sister, the older one. She's seventeen, and when she's around David, she acts even younger. But she—I swear, Peter, that she knew what we'd been doing. I could actually feel myself blush when she looked at me.

And then, to make things worse, David suggested that I take her out shopping. For something suitable. Poor Francie, she's outgrown most of her clothes, she needs a new dress.

"Eve has such good taste, I'm sure she'll help me pick out something really cute," she said.

I tell you, Peter, that girl is a woman when it comes to getting the darts in. And Davids dumb where Francie is concerned. He thinks she's just a sweet, innocent kid, and it's like she hung the moon.

I had to take her in my car. David took Rick and Lisa to the zoo. And of course, once she was alone with me, Francie forgot about her act. For openers, she asked me what I thought about Davids performance in bed. And while I was still trying to come up with an answer to that, she went on to say sweetly that of course I'd have to be passable in that department myself because, quote: "Dave likes to fuck, and of course he's always had women chasing him." Unquote.

She sounds like a sweet child.

Oh, she is! She really is! I tried to freeze her into shutting up, you know? And I did tell her that she needn't think she was shocking me, because I had already noticed how precocious she was—I didn't exactly consider her a child, everything she said so cute.

"But Dave doesn't think that way. Dave thinks Tm still a kid, and I'm a woman. Bet I know a lot more than you do." Her very words. And then she

added, grinning, that she knew Td really like to sock her, and why didn't I?

"At least I'm honest about things. I hate you, and you know I do, don't you?"

I really did want to hit her then. We finished the shopping in a state of armed truce. She wanted a new dress, and she had to have me along to help her pick one out. We argued about that, too.

Oh, shit! The things I put up with for David! We didn't talk much after that, but at least she did bring it out into the open, the way she feels. ...

Did you tell David?

Of course I didn't—how could I? He's so damned sensitive about his family, and particularly about Francie. He says she needs lots of love and attention, and he's so proud of her because she's pretty and a good student. He has a live-in housekeeper, but he thinks Francie really runs the house. He keeps saying what a good wife and mother she's going to make someday. How can I disillusion him? He woiddn't believe me, and he'd hate me for it. He might even think I was jealous—or worse, that I disliked her. And then ... But it all comes back to one fact, doesn't it? I can't stand to lose David. If I can help it, I won't let it happen. Peter? What the hell am I to do?

Sorry, luv, your hour's up. Time for you to turn into a pumpkin.

Peter pumpkin-eater! Is that what's on your mind?

Now that you mention it, luv, it sounds like fun. Is that what you want? Let's try it Davids way, shall we? Let me just slide you down . . . there!

Goddam you, Peter! No—stop it—no, please— ohh....