Tycoon by Harold Robbins

her voluptuous figure, and smoking her own cigarette, Connie looked, as usual, as if she were posing for a photographer.
    Jack stood looking out the window. He had brought a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black, and both of them had glasses with two fingers of Scotch in the bottom.
    Jack left the window and sat down beside Connie. He crushed his cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table. “You’re just about the only woman I ever really wanted that”—He stopped and shook his head—“that I couldn’t—”
    â€œWhy, Mr. Lear, you have overcome my virtue already,” she said, batting her eyes and mimicking the accent used by the heroine of the novel everyone was reading, Gone With the Wind.
    He put his arm around her and kissed her on the side of her neck. “Connie . . .”
    â€œJack . . .”
    With his right hand he gently turned her face toward him and kissed her ardently on the mouth. Then he put his hand on her left breast.
    â€œNo, Jack. No.”
    He sighed. “Connie, why do you come here with me if you won’t let me touch you?”
    â€œI like you very much. But we can’t go as far as—As far as you want to go. I’m a married woman in love with my husband. I’m the mother of three children and may in fact be pregnant right now.”
    â€œThat would solve one problem,” he suggested quietly.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWell. If you’re pregnant already—”
    â€œJack!”
    â€œWell?”
    She lifted her chin high. “I think of myself as having some morals. I’m Catholic, you know. There are certain things that—Certain things that I don’t do.”
    â€œWill it help if I tell you I love you?”
    Connie shook her head. “No. That makes it worse. And what about Kimberly?”
    â€œKimberly makes life more and more difficult for me. You know. The way I smoke, the way I dress, the way I eat, the way I talk—”
    â€œEven so, do you still love her?”
    Jack hesitated, then nodded.
    â€œYou can’t love more than one person at a time,” said Connie.
    â€œWho made that a rule? I can. And do.”
    She took her cigarette case from her purse, but Jack reached out and restrained her hand. He kissed her again.
    â€œMy husband would kill us both. And God knows what Kimberly would do.”
    â€œThey don’t have to find out. I’ll never ask you to take risks.”
    She sighed heavily. “I’ll have to think about it. We can come again Thursday. By then I will have made up my mind.”
Six
    U NSURE OF WHAT C ONNIE’S DECISION WOULD BE , J ACK NEV ertheless stopped by the Cambridge apartment the following Thursday morning and put a magnum of Piper-Heidsieck in the refrigerator. He returned at two that afternoon, not even certain she would come.
    She did.
    She was superbly beautiful. Today she was wearing an off-white knit dress trimmed with narrow blue and violet stripes at the neckline, the wrists, and the hemline. Her matching tiny hat sat on the back of her head like a yarmulke.
    He seized her at the door and kissed her before she was inside. The way she yielded to his kiss told him what her decision was.
    â€œI love you, Connie.”
    â€œI love you too, Jack.”
    She let him undress her before he poured the Piper-Heidsieck. He was surprised. The body beneath the corset that confined and shaped her was fleshier than he had imagined. Her flesh was lush. Her breasts, belly, hips, and tush were generously rounded. She sat on the red plush couch, naked, and drank champagne from a water glass.
    They did not speak. They had nothing to say. He saluted her with his glass. He bent forward to kiss her breasts. She winced when his tongue caressed her nipples. He drew as much of one breast into his mouth as he could and sucked on it gently. She gasped.
    With his hands he urged her to spread her legs. He wet his fingers on her juices and stroked her