Capital Sins

by Jane Marciano

  She sank down on to a luxurious Chesterfield sofa and wet her lips with the brandy. She grimaced when her stomach rumbled.

  He had heard. 'Haven't you eaten?' Samuel asked.

  'I forgot to.'

  'Silly child,' he chided. 'No wonder you're so skinny. And you're drinking on an empty stomach. You're usually more level-headed around the office, Sheila.'

  'I appear to be a lot of things at work.'

  He took that without comment. 'Come and fix yourself something.'

  'Have you eaten?' she asked as they stood up.

  'On the plane. I'd fix you something myself, only I don't know where she keeps everything.'

  'She?' Her right eyebrow rose.

  'My woman,' he answered, looking amused. 'Housekeeper, that is. She cleans up after me and cooks my meals when I need them. The kitchen's her domain, but I'm sure we can rustle you up some food somewhere.'

  'I'm being a nuisance,'Sheila said hesitantly.

  'Not at all,' he assured her, and they went into the kitchen which, like the rest of his suite, was like stepping into a dream and would, to most women, be just as unattainable.

  As she peeled potatoes, stuck a steak under the grill and boiled salted water for vegetables, Samuel perched on a stool at the breakfast bar and lit a cigarette.

  'What time did you get back?' Sheila asked, making conversation.

  'About' seven. I was going to do some work before bed.'

  Sheila looked at him sheepishly. 'I'm sorry. I really should have realised that I might be disturbing you ... '

  He chuckled suddenly. 'You're disturbing me quite a bit with that robe flapping open like that.'

  Flustered, Sheila stared down at herself. Her breasts were almost completely exposed. Hastily, she pulled the gown tight and secured the belt again. After a second, she had regained her composure and put the potatoes on to boil, and lowered the light under the pan of vegetables.

  'Did you enjoy the flight?' she said coolly, after a pause.

  He was still grinning when he replied. 'Very much, thanks. And did anything interesting happen while I was away?'

  'You should know by now that you can rely on me to keep things running smoothly in your absence, Sam. No one's indispensable, you've said that enough times yourself.'

  'So I wasn't needed ... '

  'Well, there were one or two documents that needed your signature.'

  He flicked ash lazily, but she couldn't read his expression. 'You'll have to polish up on your forgery then, Miss Delaney, then I won't be needed at all. So I've nothing to worry about then ... no?' He heaved a sigh. 'Still, Sheila, I do worry. All the time. I worry about my business, about my competitors just waiting for Jessop's to flounder, and about my employees, as well. All those people trusting me, us, for a living. Yet there's no one to worry about me, isn't it strange? Not a soul to miss me when I'm absent... '

  ' ...I didn't say that, Sam. You know I miss you when you're off on your little jaunts, however short they may be.' She eyed him reproachfully and he waved his hand.

  'Yeah, I know you do.' He picked up his drink and, as he went out he looked back at her over his shoulder, saying. 'I'm going through The Times. Bring your meal when it's cooked, if you want to join me.'

  As if she didn't!

  She mashed the potatoes, adding butter, cream and black pepper the way she liked it. By then the steak was ready also, and she garnished it with freshly-ground peppercorns and cress. She heaped vegetables on to a plate, cut herself a wedge from a crusty loaf she found in the bread basket, and carried the whole Jot inside on a tray.

  Samuel sniffed appreciatively. 'Smells great. So you can cook, can you?'

  'I have many talents you don't even know about,' Sheila said loftily, balancing the tray on her knees as she sat opposite him on the Chesterfield.

  'I'm sure you have.' and he turned the page of his newspaper. As she ate, Sheila thought how homely it all was: their easy, bantering talk, their casual attitude with each other, his reading the paper, a drink in his hand.

  He caught her eye. 'Good?' He indicated the tray with a jerk of his head.

  'Very juicy. I hadn't realised in the office how hungry I was.'

  He lowered the paper. 'Couldn't you delegate some of your work to that secretary of yours ... what's her name?'

  Somehow, Sheila got the impression that he knew very well what her name was, but she said anyway, 'Sands. Constance Sands. But she's got enough to do at present, and I don't want to lose such a good worker by giving her too much. She hasn't been with us that long. Anyway, I can manage.'

  'Independent woman.' He crossed his long legs. 'How's she making out, this Sands girl?'

  'She's very bright and willing.' She forked potato into her mouth and swallowed. 'I've become quite fond of her.'

  'She's extremely attractive to have around.'

  She smiled. 'You've noticed, have you?'

  'Bit difficult not to, wouldn't you agree? We needed a touch of glamour, which mimosa in a vase somehow couldn't supply in the same way.'

  'Thanks.'

  He looked at her in surprise, hearing the edge of bitterness in her remark. He had only been teasing, but realised he should've known better. Sheila had been very irritable lately.

  'I didn't mean to imply that you weren't glamorous, Sheila,' he said awkwardly.

  She held his stare. 'I know what I am.' she said clearly, 'and a glamour puss I'm not.' She smiled ruefully. 'I don't pretend I am.'

  He looked at her too sharp nose, pale complexion, the hollows in her cheeks, and her large, colourless mouth, too wide in such a thin face. Her hair was an indeterminate brown, but was well cut, usually falling against the side of her cheeks in waves. He wasn't to know that she had to sleep in a tight hairnet to keep it straight, and now it was still damp and had frizzed a little. Her one apparent asset was her hands, which were long and white, slender and quite graceful, but she didn't have much of a figure. She always dressed very well, yet on no account could all her beautifully designed clothes make her bony legs shapely, and her thin body more rounded and womanly, the way he liked women. She was all straight up and down, Samuel thought, and although he knew it was unkind, in his imagination compared her with her secretary.

  He wondered why he'd pretended to Sheila that he couldn't remember her secretary's name – he hadn't fooled her in the slightest.

  Constance had made an impression on him when they'd first met, but it was when he'd seen her trying on the new dress she'd bought that he realised how very desirable she was. Helpless females, especially young and lovely ones, had always appealed to him, but Connie had not only stirred his interest, he had actually felt a surge in his groin when he'd accidentally touched her naked back. He'd felt then that the chemistry could possibly work between them, but how was he to go about it? She looked so pure and untouched. He couldn't come right out with the proposition to bed her, she wasn't the type. God, each time she was near, wearing those ridiculous short skirts and high boots, he wanted to press himself against her, let her arouse him as he felt she could. Constance had that indefinable quality that Monroe was famed for – a childish innocence coupled with sensuality: an arresting combination. A sexy piece like her could even work miracles. Jessop shifted in his chair.

  Sheila raised her eyes. She wore very little make-up, and had left her lashes alone. Unfortunately for her, there weren't many and Samuel reckoned that a touch of mascara, or even false eyelashes, would have aided her appearance a great deal. She had yellowy-brown coloured eyes, he noticed, and now they were fixed on him a little mournfully. Like a spaniel. Such big eyes...

  'I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Sheila,' he said gently. 'I guess I'm tired. But that's no excuse for taking you for granted, and not bothering to watch what I'm saying when we're together.'

  As you do with other women? she wanted to ask him, but held her tongue.

  'I suppose I can take that as a compliment, Sam,' she said instead.

  'You're a bloody godsend
, if that helps,' he said heartily, wanting to make up for his previous lack of chivalry. And then wished he hadn't said it quite so heartily. Had he sounded pompous?

  'At least it's good to know that I'm appreciated in my work, even if there's nothing stunning about my appearance,' she went on. I'm sounding self -pitying again, she thought. Cut it out!

  'You've got a remarkable voice,' he said helpfully, quite serious. 'It's got a kind of musical quality in it that would never grate on a man's nerves, the way some women's do.'

  'You mean to say that I'll pass as an attractive female as long as I'm heard but not seen? I'll remember that.'

  He smiled back at her and the silence that ensued was comfortable again. Sheila twirled the stem of her glass in her fingers and watched the gold liquid splash around. She tipped back her head and drained it in a quick motion. She paused, her expression regretful.

  'My clothes will be dry now, I expect,' she said lightly. 'I'd better be off home before it occurs to you to take advantage of my presence and I end up with some extra work that I hadn't bargained for.' She laughed, then stopped as he looked at her in a way that made her heart thump.

  'You don't have to go now if you don't want to, Sheila,' he said quietly. 'I feel an urge to talk tonight. Couldn't you stay just a while longer?' His eyes were pleading suddenly and she recognised the loneliness behind them which he hid so well so often.

  'Of course I can, Sam. Don't beg, just ask.' She thought of the woman he might have been with only a short while earlier, and couldn't resist a self-congratulatory smile of satisfaction. Whatever his needs, she would supply them if she were able.

  'I guess you're feeling a bit lonesome by yourself this evening,' she said.

  He stood up to pace around the room. 'This evening ... all evenings. I see a line of long, lonely nights stretching out before me.' He turned abruptly and gave a curt laugh. 'I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound sorry for myself.'

  She was afraid her suspicions about him might be correct, but she ignored her fears as she said quickly, 'But you've had many girl friends, Sam. Known so many women who would cut off their right arm for you if you only asked.'

  He didn't seem to have heard her. 'I need someone understanding, someone who can help me ... help me to relax more. Oh, sure I've known women, had women, if you can call it that... '

  She let out a deep, thankful sigh. He wasn't homosexuaL

  ' ... But why should they stay with me when I can't give them anything!' He poured himself another drink. 'Why should I keep them when they can't give me anything ... what I want!'

  One fear having been stilled, Sheila looked mystified. He looked so angry, sounded so frustrated.

  'What do you mean by anything?' she asked, knowing she must sound as baffled as she felt.

  'Sons. A boy. Children.'

  'So what's stopping you ... ' Her eyes widened as a horrible thought struck her, and she stared at him aghast. 'You're not ... not sterile are you, Sam?'

  He made a choking sound and flopped down beside her on the couch. Reaching over to the table, he hooked from the box there a cigarette that he jammed between his lips. As Sheila swiped at the lighter and held it for him, he ran his hands through his thick hair, and she saw that they trembled.

  Pity for him welled up inside her. 'I think I understand now,' she said softly, gazing into his eyes steadily, as if to make him aware of it.

  Yet he glared at her balefully, smoke pouring from his nostrils in a stream. 'No, you don't understand a damn thing. You've got it all wrong,' he said angrily.

  She stretched for his hand. 'You can still be happy by marrying and adopting children, the boy you want so badly.'

  He pulled away, his face harsh. 'Why the bloody hell should I adopt children when J can have my own!'

  'But ... I thought ... '

  'You thought wrong! I'm not sterile! I've seen doctors, specialists, all the top consultants, and there's nothing medically wrong with me! There's no reason why I shouldn't be able to father sons!' He buried his face in his hands. 'The fact is, Sheila, I'm impotent!'

  She watched him, unable for a second to think clearly. Then she said helplessly, 'Sam. it's a terrible thing to have happened to a man like you, but it's not the end of the world. Oh, I don't mean to sound trite and make cliches that won't do any good but all the same, it's true, however ineffective it may sound. Marry, Sam, and adopt kids.'

  'What woman would marry a guy like me in her right mind? No, dammit. no! And J won't adopt when I can have my own. Not until I know for sure that I'm useless as a man!' He sighed with such anguish that Sheila was moved to put her arms around his neck.

  'Let me try to help you.'

  He jerked his face away. 'Don't be a fool!'

  'Sam, I ... I love you.' She tightened her arms around him, forcing him to face her. 'You must realise that I do. Have done for ages.'

  His expression softened. 'I know, Sheila, and I like you very much, and respect you. But I don't know, there's not much point in my loving a woman when both of us would end up hurt, and hating each other. I wouldn't blame any girl for turning against me, since all I can offer is friendship, and that isn't good enough, for her or me.'

  'I don't believe that, and besides, I'm not any woman,' she said vehemently. 'And if that was all you could ever give me, I'd willingly take just your friendship. I wouldn't care.'

  'But I would, I'd care! I couldn't stand the snide remarks, the sniggers, all the whispers behind my back wondering why me, Samuel Jessop, had to adopt other people's kids, and then asking each other what was wrong with me, then some woman from my past letting on that I was weak, unable to excite even myself ... '

  Sheila was almost in tears. 'Don't be so proud, Sam.'

  'Why shouldn't I be? After all, all I have is my pride and self respect, even if I have no pride in being a man!' He almost choked as he spoke, and Sheila pulled his cheek down to hers fiercely, as if she would assume the burden of his problem.

  'We'll work something out,' she said consolingly. 'I'm not asking you to marry me, but perhaps I could move in. You wouldn't be lonely then and I could take care of you, just comfort you. I know I can make you happy, if you'll only let me.'

  'I can take care of myself, and my loneliness,' he said brutally, resorting to bluntness so that she would understand. 'There's no point in doing all that for me – you'd be in my way and it wouldn't solve anything.'

  She bit her lip, not wanting to push too far, afraid she might lose him altogether.

  'There has to be a way round it, there's got to be,' he muttered.

  'Give me a chance and I'll prove that I love you,' she pleaded.

  'I don't doubt it, Sheila,' he said simply. 'But if twenty desirable and sexy women haven't stirred me, what hope can you possibly have? It's getting so that I'm almost scared to try again.'

  He looked at her as she sat there. Even dressed in just a bathrobe, knowing she wasn't wearing anything underneath, he didn't find her appealing or sensual, even though he liked her. Now if it had been Constance ...

  Her lips had tightened at his remark and she dropped her hands into her lap and sat there with bowed head. 'I understand why you're being cruel,' she said finally. 'You're hurt and frustrated, because such a thing should happen to you, the great Samuel Jessop, but it's still no reason to be quite so unkind.'

  He leaned towards her in contrition and placed his hand over hers.

  'I'm sorry, but I wouldn't want to ruin what relationship we enjoy at the moment if I took you to bed and you were unable to excite me. You'd despise me afterwards, like all the others have. It would just serve to make you feel inadequate, make me feel guilty and ashamed – and there's no reason why we should both suffer unnecessarily.'

  She raised her face sharply. She knew she shouldn't argue further, but couldn't help herself. 'Do you think I want you just for sex? That I'm so shallow a woman? Sam, I love you. I've loved only once before and this time I won't let it escape me, I won't!' Her voice rose passionately. 'I know I
'm being a fool, taking a chance that it'll be you who'll not want to know me afterwards but ... but I can't help it. Whatever happens, I'll go on worshipping you, and always be around for you to talk to. I'll even offer my shoulder to cry on if that's what you'd prefer, but don't deny me this chance! I swear that I won't change, and you'll have lost nothing!'

  'What a touching and noble gesture,' he said dryly.

  'Don't be cynical, not when I've just said I'd do anything for you!' She gripped his hand tightly. 'You'd be surprised what a woman in love could do and I'm not completely inexperienced. Let me try to arouse you, please!'

  'God, it's all so goddamned clinical, this. So bloody functional! It's like being a guinea pig for an experiment in a doctor's lab. I haven't even pretended to go through the rudiments of seduction ... '

  She stifled a groan. Couldn't he see what he was doing to her? She willed him to meet her eyes, then raised her lips and closed her eyes. 'Kiss me, darling,' she whispered. 'Please.'

  He obeyed and their mouths .fused. Still with her lips against his, she wriggled the top half of her body until the robe fell off her shoulders. With one hand around the back of his head, she reached for his right hand and guided it to her breast. He cupped it, then massaged gently, and the nipple hardened and rose under his palm in response.

  'Take me into the bedroom,' she said, breathing quickly.

  He stood and, scooping her slight figure from the couch, carried her into his room and set her on the bed. Lying beside her, he kissed her fiercely and she returned his kisses with equal fervour, willing his passion to rouse even more. As if exhausted, he fell back against the pillows and Sheila crouched over him. 'Leave it to me,' she said huskily and bent her head to him.

  They lay side by side in the darkened room and the only sound was her uneven breathing as the storm within her slowly abated. She wondered if he were asleep, then felt him stir restlessly. She saw his dark outline as he sat up and reached over to the bedside table for cigarettes. The flare of his lighter illuminated his face briefly: his lips were compressed and his expression was bitter.

  He blew smoke into the air and, crossing one arm behind his head for support, rested against the pillows.