I USED TO KNOW HIM

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

     Nick awoke to sunlight streaming into his face and had a momentary

impression that it was dawn; then he realized that the sunlight had a

reddish cast to it. He blinked at the bedroom clock, amazed to find that

he had slept until late afternoon.

My God, he thought groggily.

     His headache was nearly gone, he noticed as he threw off the covers and

swung his long legs to the floor. The soreness was still there, thumping

dully in his stiff muscles, but sleep had been deep and brought no fresh

nightmares to worry about. He cleaned himself up in the bathroom and got

a pair of slacks and a shirt from the closet, still feeling somewhat

like a stranger. While he dressed himself, he thought of the woman he

was married to.

     Despite the feeling of being a stranger in a strange world, and of being

caught up in a strange set of circumstances, he found himself feeling

delightful tremors when he thought of Margret. Even now, there was a tight,

fluttering sensation in his insides when he thought of the talcumed

satin of her skin, the warm lift of her brightly nippled breasts and the

strong response of her rounded thighs. She was a beautiful woman. She

was sex all rolled up in a frame of gentle curves and soft flesh, and he

could see that to love a woman like her would not only be easy, it would

be a privilege.

     He buckled the belt about his waist, trying to dispel the thoughts of

the woman, and went downstairs to the kitchen. Hunger gnawed at him

violently.

     The coffee was cold. He turned the gas on under it and the note on the

table caught his eye. He picked it up to scan it briefly.

DARLING,

HAD TO RUSH OFF TO WORK. KISSED YOU GOOD-BY AND YOU SAID "GLUMPTH".

BE HOME SOON. LOVE YOU TERRIBLY.

MARGRET

    He grinned at the note, balled it into his fist and threw it into the

paper can. When the coffee was hot, he poured himself a cup and fixed a

couple of sandwiches with what was left of the package of cold meat. As

he was finishing the last couple of bites of the sandwich, he heard the

thud of the evening paper against the front door. For a moment, it

startled him, then, when he had realized what it was, he was half out of

the chair... He paused there momentarily, then sank back into his seat.

He _couldn't_ go out there and get the paper - if the neighbours saw him

picking it up ... He sat there, waiting for Margret to come home, the

suspense digging into his guts with ragged teeth. Had they found the

plane? Were they onto him? Who were those two men? How did they know