The Seduction Project

‘You’d be far from mousy if you made the best of yourself. To be frank, Molly, a little make-up wouldn’t go astray. And an occasional visit to the hairdresser.’

Molly stiffened, despite the criticism striking home. ‘I wouldn’t want a man who didn’t love me for myself,’ she said sharply.

‘That’s rubbish and you know it! I’m an old married lady and I still have to work hard to keep my man. Now you listen to me, Molly. When Liam comes to take you out tonight, surprise him.’

‘Surprise him?’

‘Yes. Leave your hair down. Slap some make-up, on. Use a sexy perfume. Wear something which shows off that great little figure of yours.’

For a split second, Molly was buoyed up by Joan’s compliment on her figure. But then she thought of Roxy’s tall, voluptuous, sex-bomb body. . .and her momentary high was totally deflated.

‘I don’t have any sexy perfume,’ she muttered dispiritedly. She didn’t own much make-up either. But she wasn’t about to admit that.

Joan gave her an exasperated glare. ‘Then buy some at the chemist during your lunch-hour!’

Their library was in a small regional centre which boasted quite a few shops, a well-stocked chemist shop included.

Molly declined telling Joan that she only had five dollars in her purse. Sexy perfume was expensive, and she’d rather wear nothing than douse herself in a cheap scent.

Molly was actually contemplating asking Joan to lend her some money when reality returned with a rush. She could wear more make-up than a Japanese geisha and drown herself in the most exotic expensive perfume in the world and it would not make Liam fall in love with her. To think otherwise was ludicrous in the extreme, and belittling to his intelligence.

‘Thank you for your advice, Joan,’ she said with a return to common sense, ‘but I’d really rather just be myself. Now I’d better get back to these books.’

Molly resumed checking in the returns, blocking her mind to everything but the thought that at least she would not have to starve to death tonight after her mother’s special birthday meal. Liam could buy her something delicious and creamy to go with her after-dinner coffee.

She gave no more thought to Joan’s advice about make-up and perfume, till she arrived home late that afternoon and opened her carryall to find a paper parcel sitting on top of her house keys.

It contained a small but expensive-looking spray bottle of perfume.

And a note.

‘Happy birthday, darls!’ Joan had written in her usual extravagant hand. ‘This always works for me. Well...sometimes. Still, what have you got to lose? Go for it!’

Molly sprayed a tiny burst of perfume onto her wrist and lifted it to her nose. It was a wonderfully sensual smell, its heavy musk perfume bringing images of satin sheets and naked bodies and untold unknown delights.

Molly shook her head. To wear such a scent in Liam’s presence would be the ultimate self-torture.

And let’s face it, Molly, she told herself, wearing perfume—no matter how sensual—isn’t about to turn Liam into some kind of sex-crazed lunatic. With a girl like Roxy in tow, no doubt he has all the sex he can handle.

Molly glanced at the perfume’s name and almost laughed. Seductress, it was called. Good Lord. It would have to be a powerful potion to turn her into that!

It was a nice thought of Joan’s, but a total waste of time and money.

So was her advice. For Molly believed she did have something to lose. Her self-respect And possibly Liam’s friendship. She would not risk her relationship with him—such as it was—by acting differently or provocatively. He was an intelligent man and would surely notice if she climbed into his car wearing such an overpoweringly sexy scent.

No. She would not do it. Neither would she change her hairstyle, or put on more make-up, or scrounge through her limited wardrobe in some vain attempt to find something more figure-revealing.

Molly had her pride.

She shoved the perfume back in her bag and extracted her house key.

‘Is that you, dear?’ her mother called out as she pushed open the front door.

‘Yes, Mum.’

The smell of a roast dinner teased Molly’s nostrils as she made her way along the hall and into the kitchen. Not a pork smell. Chicken.

Naturally, came the rueful thought. Chicken carried the least fat and calorie count, provided the skin was removed. Which it would certainly be. She almost sighed when she also spied her mother wrapping the hoped-for crispy baked potatoes in foil.

Ruth glanced up and smiled at her daughter. ‘Have a good day, dear?’

‘Pretty good. Joan and the others bought me a birthday cake for morning tea.’

‘I hope you only had a small slice,’ her mother said, frowning. ‘I was going to get you a cake tonight but I thought it an extravagance when we can’t eat all of it.’

Molly suddenly felt like screaming. She turned away to hook her navy carryall over a chair, schooling her face into a more pleasant expression before turning back. ‘You’ll never guess who dropped in to see me this morning,’ she said brightly.

‘I can’t think. Who?’

‘Liam.’

‘Liam? You mean Liam Delaney?’

‘The one and the same.’ Molly declined telling her mother about the fiasco of his new car. ‘He was up this way today and asked me out tonight for my birthday.’

‘But I’m cooking you a special dinner tonight!’

‘I’ll be here for dinner, Mum. Liam isn’t picking me up till around eight.’

Ruth gave her daughter a sharp look. ‘You do realise he already has a girlfriend? A very beautiful one too, if I recall rightly.’

Molly controlled her growing irritation with difficulty. ‘I’m well aware of that, Mum, but we’re only going somewhere for coffee. Don’t forget Liam and I were friends long before Roxy came along.’

Ruth began to frown. ‘I still don’t know about this. I have an awful feeling it’s not a good idea.’

Molly came forward to give her mother a hug. ‘Mum, stop worrying. I’m a big girl now and quite capable of looking after myself. Besides, it’s not as though Liam is engaged or anything.’

Ruth’s head jerked back and she looked at her daughter with worried eyes. ‘You...you’re not going to do anything you shouldn’t do, Molly, are you?’

Molly was quite startled, and more than a little annoyed. ‘Such as what?’ It wasn’t as though she was about to leap into bed with the man. Not that she wouldn’t, if she ever had the chance. Making love with Liam was at the top of the list where her secret sexual fantasies were concerned. She was pretty sure, however, that she wasn’t even on Liam’s list.

‘I... don’t know exactly,’ her mother murmured. ‘You seem different tonight...’

Molly now thanked her lucky stars that she wasn’t attempting any kind of pathetic make-over tonight. She could just imagine what her mother would have said if she’d waltzed downstairs all dolled up and doused in Seductress.

‘Liam and I are just good friends, Mum,’ she repeated for what felt like the umpteenth time that day.

Molly was shocked when her mother looked at her the same way Joan had. ‘Come now, Molly,’ she said. ‘I’m your mother. I know exactly how you feel about that man.’

‘Yes...well, he doesn’t feel the same way about me, does he?’ came her taut reply.

‘No. And neither will he. Ever.’

Molly could not believe the pain her mother’s words brought her. It was one thing to tell herself there was no hope. Quite another to hear the futility of her dreams spoken aloud and with such crushing finality.

‘I realise that,’ she countered, her throat thick with hurt. ‘You don’t have to tell me.’

Molly just managed to sweep from the room before she burst into tears.

CHAPTER THREE

AT FIVE to eight, Molly was standing at her bedroom window, watching for Liam’s car. She doubted he would be late. Surprisingly, punctuality was now one of his virtues.

He hadn’t always been like that. When Molly had first met Liam, and he’d been a computer-mad adolescent of seventeen, she could not count the number of times he’d been late for things. Back then, he’d always been working on some computer-based project, becoming totally absorbed as soon as he sat down in front of the screen. Time had had little meaning for him once his concentration was focused on his latest game, or graphic design.

Every morning, Molly would wait anxiously outside his house for him to accompany her to school—a job he’d volunteered for when some bullies had started hassling her on the walk to school. Barely minutes before the school bell was due to ring, Liam would come dashing out, yelling for her to start running.

How she kept up with his long legs she would never know. But hero-worship made you do things your body was incapable of, although in that final year she was to share school with Liam she hadn’t yet reached puberty—or her fat phase—being only twelve. Somehow, she’d managed to stick to his shadow like glue all the way, down the hill then along the flat beside the railway, over the railway bridge, across the highway then up another hill to school, usually arriving in time but in a totally breathless state.

She would have to run home too, so that Liam could be sitting back down to his all-consuming hobby all the quicker. Although never interested in sport, Liam had been very fit in those days from running to and from school at full pelt. He still ran every day, jogging to and from work, apparently. He’d told her once that his best inspirations and ideas came while he was running.

Molly was about to turn away from the window when Liam’s bright red car came up the hill and turned into their driveway. Right on time! She shook her head in rueful acceptance that Liam had changed in many ways. He was no longer the forgetful boy next door. He was an exceptionally sharp businessman. Ambitious. Brilliant. Successful.

Way out of your league, Molly.

Sighing, she bent to switch off her bedside lamp, and was about to leave the room when she hesitated, walking back to where she could watch Liam, unobserved, from the now darkened window.

He sat there for several seconds, combing his hair. Though not with undue vanity. He didn’t even glance into the rear-vision or side-mirror, just swept the comb quickly through both sides and down the back before slipping it back into his jacket pocket.

At least in that Liam hadn’t changed. He’d never been vain about his looks, and still wasn’t. There was nothing of the peacock in him.

Yet, for all that, he did like to look good. Molly believed his sense of style came from his mother, who, though in her late fifties, was very young at heart and kept up to date with the latest trends and fashions. A writer and illustrator of children’s books, Babs Delaney had ably supported herself and her only son after her husband was killed in a rock-climbing accident when Liam was only twelve.

It suddenly occurred to Molly how similar her and Liam’s family backgrounds were. Both only children with widowed mothers.

But there the similarity ended. Babs Delaney was nothing like her own, timid mother. She was an outgoing personality with a wide range of friends and interests. She loved Liam to death but did not live her life through her son. She was encouraging, never clinging, a positive force, without a pessimistic or negative thought. She always said she wanted the best for her son, but that it was up to him to find what was best for himself.

It was no wonder Liam thought the world was his oyster; no wonder his business had been a great success. He’d even won an award a couple of years back as New South Wales Young Businessman of the Year and was often asked to be a motivating after-dinner speaker at various functions.

A quiver rippled down Molly’s spine as she watched the object of her secret obsession unfold his elegant frame from behind the wheel. He was dressed in the same blue jeans, navy top and cream linen jacket he’d been wearing earlier. He stretched as he stood up, and another deeper quiver reverberated all through her.

For the first time it struck Molly just how intensely sexual her love for Liam had become with the passing of the years. Her more innocent schoolgirl crush had long since graduated to a full-on physical passion, filled with needs and yearnings which would not be denied. More and more she dreamt of making love with Liam, rather than just loving him. She would lie in bed at night and think about what it would be like to kiss him and touch him; how he would look, naked and erect; how he would feel, deep inside her.

She blushed in the darkness, her blood pounding through her body, her head whirling with a wild mixture of shame and excitement. Was she wicked to think about such things?

She didn’t feel wicked. She felt driven and compelled, oblivious to everything but wanting Liam with a want that had no conscience, only the most merciless and agonising frustration. Oh, how she wished she were dazzlingly beautiful, with the sort of body no man could resist!

A bitter longing flooded Molly as she watched Liam stride confidently towards her front door, his golden head gleaming under the street lights. Her grip on the curtains tightened and inevitably her thoughts turned to the dreaded Roxy.

How often did Liam sleep with her? she wondered enviously. Molly knew he didn’t live with her, but that didn’t mean they didn’t share most of their nights either at his place or hers. Was she great in bed? came the added tormenting thought. Did she know all the tricks that a man would find irresistible? What was it she did to him that had kept Liam interested for six whole months?

Another awful possibility snuck into Molly’s mind, twisting her heart and her stomach. Surely he couldn’t love Roxy. Surely he wasn’t going to marry her? Surely not.

The front doorbell rang, the sound jarring Molly’s suddenly stretched nerves. She resisted rushing downstairs, her thoughts still simmering with resentment at the situation. She should not have agreed to go out with Liam tonight, not even for coffee. She was only torturing herself.

She heard her mother slide the door back from the family room then walk with small steps along the plastic strip which protected the hallway carpet. The front door creaked slightly on opening.

‘Hello, Liam,’ Ruth said with stiff politeness.

‘Hello, Mrs McCrae. You’re looking well.’

Molly listened to their small chat for a minute or two before gathering herself and coming downstairs, glad now that she hadn’t made a superhuman effort with her appearance. Even so, her mother looked her up and down as though searching for some hint of secret decadence.

Molly doubted if even the most devious mind could find anything to criticise in her knee-length black skirt and simple white knitted top, even if the latter did have a lacy design and pretty pearl buttons down the front. Her choice of jewellery could hardly give rise to speculation, either. The string of pearls her own parents had given her for her twenty-first birthday was conservative and sedate, as were the matching pearl earrings.

The rest of her was equally sedate. Skin-coloured pantyhose, medium height black pumps, hair up in its usual knot and no make-up on except coral lipstick. Even her underwear was sedate. But only Superman with his X-ray vision could see that. Not that the sight of her modest white crossover bra and cotton briefs would send any man’s heart aflutter.

Molly was at a loss to understand, then, why Liam himself frowned up at her as she came down the stairs. She had no illusions that he was struck by some previously untapped appreciation of her beauty. So why was he giving her the once-over with that slightly surprised look in his eyes?

Her curiosity was not satisfied till they were alone and walking along the curving front path towards his parked car.

‘You know, Moll,’ he said, ‘you’ve lost quite a bit of weight lately, haven’t you?’

Molly clenched her teeth down hard in her jaw. She’d been losing weight steadily for two years, and had been this size for at least three months. Hadn’t he even noticed before this moment? What about at Christmas, or earlier today, at the library?

No, of course not. For the last six months his eyes had all been for Roxy. And this morning he’d been all wrapped up in his stupid new car.

‘Not lately I haven’t,’ she replied coolly. ‘I’ve been this weight for quite a while.’

‘Oh? I didn’t notice.’

Tell me something new, Molly thought tartly. She felt piqued that there wasn’t the smallest change in him that she didn’t notice. She knew whenever he’d had his hair cut; when he’d bought a new jacket; when he’d changed women.

‘Are you sure Roxy won’t mind your taking me out tonight?’ she was driven to ask, barely controlling the lemony flavour in her voice.

‘Roxy and I are having a trial separation,’ he bit out.

‘Oh?’ Molly battled to look perfectly normal. Difficult when your stomach had just done a back-flip. ‘You have a fight or something?’

‘Or something,’ he muttered.

‘You don’t want to tell me about it?’

His smile was wry as he wrenched open the passenger door. ‘Not tonight, Moll. I don’t want to spoil my mood by thinking about women.’

‘But I’m a woman, Liam!’ she pointed out archly.

‘Yeah, but you’re different. I don’t really think of you like that. You’re my friend. Come on. Get in. I’m going to drive us out to Terrigal. It’s a lovely night for a walk along the beach.’

Which it was. Clear and warm, with stars sparkling in the night sky. A night for lovers.

Molly tried not to think about that. Masochism was not one of her vices.

Or maybe it was?

‘But I’m not dressed for the beach,’ she protested when Liam climbed in behind the wheel. ‘I have high heels and stockings on for one thing.’

‘You can take them off in the car,’ he suggested without turning a hair.

His indifference to her undressing in front of him was depressing in the extreme. She could just imagine what would happen if Roxy started stripping in the passenger seat, wriggling her pouty bottom while she unpeeled her stockings down those long, tanned legs of hers. Liam wouldn’t concentrate on his driving for long. Molly had an awful feeling that she could sit there stark naked in front of Liam and all he would do was ask her if she was cold!

Molly was saved from terminal depression by the lovely thought that dear Roxy seemed close to receiving her walking papers. Molly had hated her more than all of Liam’s other women. Perhaps because she was the most beautiful. And the most confident in her position as Liam’s girlfriend.

Molly’s mood lightened considerably just thinking about Roxy’s failure to be promoted to fiancée.

‘I hope you don’t think you’re going to worm your way out of buying me coffee!’ she told him while he reversed out of the driveway. ‘I was going to order a big rich slice of cake with it. You’ve no idea, Liam, what food Mum has been feeding me ever since Dad died. She’s become a “fat-free for ever” nutcase!’

‘No worse than having a mother who wants to feed you up,’ he countered drily. ‘Every time I come home, Mum says I’m getting too thin, then out come the chips and the pastries and God knows what else.’

‘You’re not too thin,’ Molly said. ‘You’re just right.’

He smiled over at her and her heart lurched. God, but he was heart-stoppingly handsome when he smiled.

‘You know, you’re good for me, Moll. You always say the right thing. And you always do the right thing,’ he added meaningfully. ‘You put me to shame today. I never remember your birthday and you always remember mine. So if you open the glove box in front of you there’s a little something there which I hope will make up for all those other forgotten occasions.

‘And don’t tell me I shouldn’t have,’ he went on before she could open her mouth. ‘And don’t tell me it’s too expensive. I can afford it. Fact is, I can afford pretty well whatever I want these days. That computer game I told you about some time back has just gone on the worldwide market and it’s going to make me a multimillionaire.’

‘Oh, Liam, that’s wonderful!’

‘Maybe,’ he said drily. ‘I’m beginning to find out being rich and successful isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Except when it comes to buying my best friend something really nice,’ he added with a warm smile. ‘Go on. Rip the paper off and open it up. I’m dying to see what you think of it.’

Molly did just that, and gasped. ‘Oh, Liam! You shouldn’t have.’

‘I thought I told you not to say that,’ he said ruefully. ‘Now, are you sure you like it? There were so many designs to choose from. I was in the jewellery shop for hours this afternoon trying to decide. In the end I settled for something simple, but solid. Like you.’

Molly tried to take his words as a compliment, but somehow some of the pleasure of his gift dissolved at that point. She lifted the heavy gold chain necklace from its green velvet bed, laying it across one palm while she slowly traced the heavy oval links with the index finger of her right hand.

Simple, but solid. Like me.

‘You don’t like it.’

Molly heard the disappointment in his voice and forced herself to throw him a bright smile. ‘Don’t be silly. I love it.’ When his attention returned to the oncoming traffic, her eyes continued to secretly caress him for several moments. How could I not love it? was the heart-catching reality. It’s from you, my darling. I will treasure it for the rest of my life.

Liam was frowning. ‘I hope you’re not just saying that.’

Molly found everything about the situation rather ironic. What would happen if she told him how she really felt about him? Knowing Liam, he would be terribly embarrassed. He hated complications in his life. He was a simple man at heart.

‘Would I lie to you?’ she quipped, though unable to keep the sardonic edge out of her voice.

He slanted her a rather bewildered look as though he’d never associated her with sarcasm before.

‘Hmm. I hope not. You were always a brutally honest kid. But right on the ball. Why else do you think I used to ask your opinion on things? Mum would just say everything I wanted to do was great. I needed someone who told me as it really was. Which you did. When I think of the time I might have wasted on some of those airy-fairy projects I came up with. You were always able to make me see what was worth working on, Moll; what would last.’

A pity you never asked my opinion on your lady-friends, Molly thought wryly. I could have told you all those females loved themselves too much to have much left over for anyone else. But then, it wasn’t love you wanted from them, was it, Liam?

Still, old habits die hard. What’s going to happen when you want a girl to love you, and whom you can truly love in return? You’ll never find the right wife, gravitating towards the wrong type of girl. The Roxys of this world are only out for what they can get. Whereas I...I would love you as no other woman could ever love you, my darling. Look at me, Liam. Can’t you see the love I bear you? Can’t you feel it?

‘Anyway, Moll,’ Liam went on, oblivious of Molly’s thoughts and feelings. ‘I hope that necklace goes some small way to making up for my thoughtlessness in the past. I know I’m a selfish bastard. But your friendship means a lot to me and I wouldn’t want you to think I never give you a moment’s thought, because I do.

‘Trouble is. . .’ He threw her a wry smile. ‘It’s usually only when I need your help. Or your advice. Or your opinion on a new car.’

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at that point. Anger, however, came to the rescue. ‘And is that all tonight is, Liam?’ she snapped. ‘A test drive? Are you taking me all the way out to Terrigal just so you can get my opinion on your new car?’

‘God, no!’ He looked and sounded appalled. ‘No, that’s not it at all! Far from it. The thing is, I realised today down at the library that I never ask you about you. It added to my guilt, I can tell you. All these years and all we ever talk about is me. So tonight I want to hear all about you, Moll.’