CHAPTER TWO
Sandy started the motor of her sky blue Lincoln convertible which she had parked on an inconspicuous street near the restaurant, several blocks away from the motel. She noticed as she turned the ignition key that her hands were trembling, and as she drove off, headed for him, she realized she could not control the gentle quivering of her long sleek thighs so recently entwined about Victor's muscular torso. Yet even the memory of the most vibrant sensations her young body had ever felt was not enough to dispel the increasing sense of guilt welling up inside her as she thought of Peter, dear sweet Peter, who had given her everything, including his trust when he married her.
It had been three years now since her parents had died suddenly in that terrible automobile crash; leavin
