While Clay was pouring her another drink, she tried not to let the image of her husband copulating with Nina Marsdale take shape. How awful! How could Eddie do this to me?
The more she thought about it the more she became aware of the insistent, seething, sensations in her, and thought for a fleeting second that it would serve Eddie right if she were to play at the same game. She soon pushed that thought from her mind. No! I just can't do it!
Clay returned to her, handing her the tall glass of scotch. She looked up at him, seeing him for the first time. She saw a stocky, powerfully built man with dark hair, heavy features, and she noted the satisfied leer on his face as he resumed the seat opposite her, lounging back in it to wait.
That's it! He's waiting like a cat waiting for a canary
