Dan was in the kitchen and Lauren sat uncomfortably in an overstuffed chair opposite Murdoch. She had her feet pulled up her skirt tucked in tightly around her legs. He was looking at her, studying her face and letting his gaze drift down her neck onto the plum silk blouse. She knew, very well, what was going through his mind. Not two months ago at a family wedding she'd danced with him out of duty. The memory of his vulgarity hadn't left her from that day. She recalled the way he'd pulled her in close; the bold smirk when he looked into her cleavage; his mocking disrespect in telling her she had 'nice tits.'
'A weasel,' she thought. 'A street bum who happens to be related to my husband.'
Eyes locked to the television screen, Lauren tried not to glance his way. She refused to acknowledge that Murdoch was staring at her again, his gaze pulling at her clothes, trying to map what was underneath. Her elegant head lifted higher showing her contempt for his visual intrusion. She wished her husband would stop talking on the phone and just hang up. Murdoch wouldn't dare be so bold once Dan was back in the room.
It was the insolence of her brother-in-law's stare that was so annoying. She shifted her weight in the chair. The motion briefly bared a couple of square inches of thigh and his eyes fastened upon it before she hastily covered up. It was unnerving. He would not stop looking at her, especially her breasts. Under his insidious scrutiny, they felt swollen. The smooth silk material clung snugly to every contour, emphasizing their shape and fullness. Lauren wished she'd worn something bulky, anything to thwart his leering. She knew her thin summer bra offered little extra covering beneath the blouse. It made her feel unsettled to think that he may be able to see more than she'd intended.
In the midst of her uncertainty, the tips had begun to tingle. Lauren could feel her nipples stiffening and pressing against the fabric. Chagrined and exasperated, she glanced toward him, hoping that he hadn't noticed. But the smile on his lips erased any hope of that. She glowered at him, exuding every ounce of disdain that she could muster. He just smiled more and licked his lips in that disgusting way.
On the way home in the car Dan spoke to his brother about Lauren. He explained how upsetting it was for her when Murdoch didn't show her the respect she was due. Specifically, she'd complained about his street language and, of course, the unseemly staring. Dan sounded like the high school teacher he was when he lectured him on 'proper behavior around a respectable lady like Lauren.'
Murdoch was smoked. It wasn't the first time the little bitch had caused trouble between him and his brother. He was irked with his sister-in-law's pretentiousness and tired of Dan's preaching. The fresh image of her nipples pushing out against the purple blouse made him want to argue the credibility of her grumbling. But he didn't. He didn't want to piss off his brother any more than he already had. Dan was always good to bail him out when he needed a few bucks. As for Lauren, she was too snooty for his taste anyhow.
It was World Series time and Atlanta was in for the kill. Murdoch's usual hangout was jammed with noisy revelers gathered for the seventh and deciding game. There were no seats left for the regulars; no quiet spot for a serious tout to study his Racing Form. In disgust, he drove the ten blocks to Marty's. That place had a lineup stretched out the door and no where to park. He kept driving uptown until the traffic thinned. The wall-to-wall neon gave way to English-style pubs and discreet cabarets with European sounding names. Impulsively, he nosed the old Cadillac into a curbside space not 100 feet from a bistro called The Lamb & Python.
The place was moderately busy. Murdoch was relieved to see that there were no noisy yahoos with their hats on backwards. Toward the rear of the pub he spied a small booth and settled down there for a beer and a peaceful read of his paper. Twenty minutes went by. The waitress had just brought Murdoch a fresh draft. She stood in front of him chattering, counting out his change, partially blocking his view of the rest of the pub. From around her ample hips he glimpsed a couple squeezing into a booth not twenty feet from where he sat. He just swallowed hard and stared. It was Lauren. And she wasn't with Dan. Quickly Murdoch raised the newspaper to hide his face.
Unobtrusively, he slid into the corner of the booth where he could watch without being seen. The man was well dressed, handsome, and self assured. A suitable companion for an elegant woman like Lauren. They chatted amiably over cocktails like close friends unwinding after a hard day at the office. Had it not been for the long looks into each other's eyes and the fervent hand holding, it might have been that innocent. Murdoch nursed his beer and waited while they dawdled through a couple of cocktails. He knew his brother would laugh at his suspicions. Danny Clean-cut would think such thoughts were an unacceptable comment on a married lady of Lauren's stature.
But Murdoch lived in the real world. He listened to her tinkly laughter and watched her body language. His gut was telling him to sit tight and stay out of sight. His patience was rewarded when Lauren's friend leaned across the table and kissed her with tenderness. Lips plucking sensuously, they held the clinging contact until her tongue reached hungrily into his open mouth.
