Her One Obsession (9 page)

But Frieda! She was standing at the entrance to the room, head held high, and wearing her pride on the sleeve of her black mink, brilliantly tailored, short jacket. Her skirt of black suede had been the perfect choice to complete her ensemble. Gideon wove his way through the viewers directly to them. When he shook Herschel’s hand, Gideon thought his father-in-law would burst into tears of joy.

‘You look like a Harvard professor, Herschel,’ said Gideon.

‘And you,’ said Herschel, ‘look like you always look, a huge success.’ Then the two men hugged each other.

When they parted, Gideon raised Frieda’s hand and lowered his head to kiss it. ‘Frieda, you look amazingly elegant and sophisticated,’ he told her as he touched the small, pill box, suede hat sitting on top of her head.

‘Sophisticated? Elegant? What are you talking about, Gideon? The jacket belongs to my sister, Rose, the hat belongs to Leona Shwartz, and the skirt is a French label I can’t pronounce but neither could the sales girl at Lohman’s basement sale. But chic it is, I have been assured, and all because we don’t want to let the side down. I’m very proud and bursting with happiness for you, Gideon, and, of course, for my Dendre. A dream come true for you both.’

Gideon kissed his mother-in-law on both cheeks. Dendre joined them just as Gideon moved to kiss Orlando and they shook hands firmly, reflecting their deep friendship and affection for one another.

He should have known Dendre’s family would rise to the occasion.

On the first night sixty per cent of the paintings were sold, Thirty-five per cent more went in the first week. It was an unequivocal triumph. The London exhibition was not such a success until a month later when the art news magazines and the newspaper critics had covered it in England. Seventy-five per cent of the drawings and water-colours were then sold.

Mercifully the Palenbergs still had no telephone in the studio. If there had been it would never have stopped ringing with strangers offering invitations or seeking them. Instead Gideon’s post and telephone messages went to the gallery and thence to the studio, delivered by one of Haver’s minions. She was usually a pretty, chic, bright, young woman who would willingly respond to Gideon’s seductive charm.

The first time Dendre noticed how much attention he was showing the girl, even to walking her from the studio to the street with his arm around her, she blanked it from her mind. After the third and fourth time Dendre felt hurt but reassured herself that her husband loved her, and so what if he was a flirt? How had
she not known that he liked to charm ladies? she asked herself, and realised that she and Gideon had happened too fast. He had swept her off her feet before she had even got to know him. They had married with him remaining secretive about himself and his life before Dendre. She was appalled that she really did not know her husband, the father of her child, the man she loved beyond life itself. It was too late to question him now. They had lived a day-to-day existence and a happy life together. Dendre made one of her vows. As long as she was loved by Gideon and they had a life together, she would never question, just wait for him to reveal himself to her.

At dinner one evening he announced, ‘We’re going out tonight, to a Greek place I know. It has the best
bouzouki
you will find outside of Greece.’

‘It’s eleven o’clock, Gideon, and we have no sitter nor will I find one at this hour.’

‘I bumped into Valdez and asked him to come to sit with Amber. He should be here any minute.’

Valdez was one of the two boys he had picked up in the street to help when he was showing work to the dealers. Valdez was a street-wise boy who turned out to be very quick to learn. As soon as the advance of money arrived he was worked into the Palenberg budget. He adored Amber and often took care of her.

Gideon had hardly finished his sentence when the intercom went and Gideon buzzed the boy in. He assured Dendre, ‘You will love the place and the man who runs it. Just average food, but great belly dancers and sailors off Greek cargo ships who dance their hearts and souls out on the tiny dance floor. Lots of smashing of plates – a million light years away from the art world game. Gregarious and hospitable people, the Greeks. The first thing we’ll do when we have real money is buy a house on the Island of Hydra and spend half the year there. It’s a marvellous place, I lived there for a couple of years once.’

The Greek restaurant-cum-night club was in an even more seedy street than the one where they lived. They could hear the music halfway up the street. A great fuss was made of Gideon there. They had a marvellous time and, now that they could afford it, it became their favourite place for a night out.

In the weeks that followed, Dendre found her niche in this new
life she and Gideon had worked so hard to secure. Her husband’s comfort, his every sexual desire, the kitchen, Amber and the new baby she was carrying became her life. She was determined to do right by her extraordinary man. She studied gourmet French cooking, Italian, Japanese and Chinese too. She excelled in flower arranging and studied Greek, a must if they were eventually to live in Greece. She walked Fifth and Madison Avenues pushing her pram and window shopped, gathering ideas, learning, learning, learning.

Haver became important in their lives because they could appreciate the professionalism of the way he represented Gideon. There was no question that Haver and Gideon had a rapport between them, trusted in each other’s ability. Dendre took Haver’s advice and never interfered. It was enough for her that Gideon continued to discuss his work with her, seek her opinion, and as often as not act upon it. The money kept accumulating in their bank account as for five years they lived a frugal life. It was a joint decision between Dendre and Gideon, who both wished never again to live on handouts. When Daisy was born, it was impossible for them to remain living in the studio. They took on an apartment that was hardly better than their former living quarters because it was within walking distance of the studio. It did at least have central heating, hot and cold running water, a proper four-burner cooker with an oven.

This was a successful rather than a happy time for Dendre and Gideon because circumstances were separating them. Success, respect for his work, took all the pressures of the mundane out of Gideon’s life. Haver was running his art life and Dendre his home life and he was left to paint. Haver, as well as his artist friends, could not believe his meanness, keeping his old rundown studio and Dendre and his children in an apartment only the most desperate would have rented. She still worked at home as a bookkeeper for her original clients. Gideon replied to their criticism by saying, ‘Because I have a little money, do I necessarily have to change my lifestyle? I’ve always been kept by women, my Aunt Martha then Dendre. It suits me just fine.’

He truly loved his wife and children but loved painting even more. The years rolled by and he was proved to be consistently brilliant. The international art world, museums, the best collectors,
bought his paintings. He was now an art star and enjoying his success in that world. His paintings were selling on average for $650,000 a canvas. The day that a Gideon Palenberg portrait of Dendre was sold to the Museum of Modern Art in New York for in excess of $1,000,000, he took his wife to lunch at the Café Cholson. It was dimly lit by artful pinpoint lights and candles, and decorated with baskets of fresh fruits and vegetables spilling over from stunning marble pedestal bowls and plates. Whole cured hams rested on silver platters beside pyramids of crushed ice studded with oysters. All glistened under the lights beaming down on the massive marble console.

Dendre was dazzled by such chic: the navy blue walls, the deep plum-coloured velvet banquettes, the huge palm trees. ‘Oh, Gideon, I love it here. What fun – and how romantic, dining by candlelight in the middle of the day.’

She kissed him on the cheek, stunned for a moment by that charisma of his that was even more powerful and seductive today. Sexuality seemed to ooze from every pore of his body. How had she not noticed he was impossibly attractive and wearing his success like a royal robe? His eyes were roaming the room and settled from time to time on a pretty young face. She saw several women looking at him. Silently she was telling them, Back off, he’s mine. That was the moment she realised that Gideon had other women.

He told her, ‘I knew you would like it here,’ a smile of delight on his face that she did.

Did he compare her with the others? Did having them make him love her more? Dendre blanked off the realisation that her husband was being unfaithful. It was easy when she rationalised that he did at least love her and the children; that he still found her sexually attractive, in fact more so than ever. That was evident in his strong libido and the adventurous sex life they had together.

By the time they were seated the very idea that Gideon would betray her had vanished from her mind. He ordered a bottle of champagne. The waiter seemed to know him, which surprised Dendre. She would have been happier had they discovered the place together. A dealer, Ben Borgnine and Dominique Andros, a famous painter, were just leaving the restaurant together and stopped to greet Dendre and Gideon. She liked them both. It
was easy to like Ben Borgnine who always made a point of spending time with her during important exhibitions or parties when everyone else was busily working the floor to meet as many art celebrities as possible. Everyone but Dendre was afraid of the volatile Dominique but admired her work and her dedication to art. She adored Gideon, had always championed his work, had opened to him all the important doors in fine art society that counted when he had first arrived in New York. That life of hustling for attention that he had given up only a few weeks before he met his wife was not something Dendre could easily equate with her proud, independent husband.

The daughter of a famous French writer and a Greek poet, Dominique had
entrée
to the best houses round the world. A passionate artist obsessed with her work and the art world, she used everyone who crossed her path to further herself and the many artists she championed. She was a secretive creature who knew the rich and famous of the art world in both Europe and the States well enough to call them friends.

This Athenian-born lady, respected for her work and adored by the international art world even though she was volatile, difficult, and notorious for having both men and women as lovers, was in love with Dendre. Several times she had made overtures to her, seeking to get her into bed. Dendre had never understood how badly Dominique wanted her sexually. It had been Gideon who had explained it to her. Not so much shocked as sad for the other woman, Dendre had worked hard at being a good friend to her but the two of them never discussed the issue.

Ben and Dominique left them to study the menu. Looking over the top of his, Gideon said, ‘Is it a turn on to have both Ben and Dominique yearning to have sex with you?’

‘Ben?’ exclaimed Dendre.

‘You must pay more attention to detail. Those little nuances that are hints.’

‘Not possible! That’s your imagination on overdrive,’ she said laughingly.

‘Maybe so,’ he conceded.

But now that it been said, it stuck in her mind. She did like the idea that Ben was sexually attracted to her. It was an ego boost and for the first time she wondered what it would be like
to have sex with a man other than Gideon. She laughed aloud, wondering what it would be like to have sex with both Gideon and Ben at the same time.

‘How wicked you can be, Gideon,’ she reproved her husband.

‘Why wicked, my love?’

‘Planting that seed in my head when you know you are enough for me in the erotic compartment of my life. Wicked because I know you. You are planning something to which you want me to acquiesce. Something depraved and delicious,’ she whispered.

There was a sexy aura around them now. Gideon reached across the table and took Dendre’s hand. He rose from his chair, leaned over the table and kissed it. She was consumed with love for him.

Chapter 9

‘I have some news, and it’s only right for you to be the first one to hear it,’ said Gideon in between the oysters and the fillet of beef with
Sauce Béarnaise
.

‘It must be good news or we wouldn’t be lunching. Do tell?’

‘It’s happened, my success is assured. Haver sold a painting of mine to a museum in Dallas for one million, three hundred thousand dollars. Dendre, my paintings have made us very wealthy and always will. Everything I told you when we first met has come true.’

Dendre, who was after all their bookkeeper, knew already they were wealthy beyond anything she had ever hoped for. ‘I’m so happy for you, Gideon. For us,’ she said.

‘Now we can enjoy the luxuries of life. We’ll buy a house in Greece – no, two, close to each other, and make one into a studio. And two lofts, one above the other, here in the city. One to work in and one for our family. Would you like that?’

‘It sounds so grand. Of course I would like to live like that!’

‘Now we can afford the luxury of the sun and the sea, occasional travel to far off places. But most important of all I can retreat from the social aspect of painting, become a recluse, just work and enjoy my girls.’

Dendre caught his excitement. She visualised the life he described and her own enjoyment bubbled over into gay abandon. Gideon sat back in his chair and watched his wife who seemed to bloom before his eyes.

He thought of something else then and immediately sobered. ‘Aunt Martha – I would like you to calculate how much money she has sent me since you came into my life, double the amount and write out a cheque.’

‘That’s very generous of you considering you’re so bitter about her. I’ll take care of it tomorrow.’

‘Maybe if I pay her off, I’ll be rid of her for good. I did so hate taking her money. But it meant survival, and without it who knows where I would be now?’

‘I don’t think you dislike her as much as you claim to. And why do you anyway?’

‘Then you’d be wrong. My mother was Aunt Martha’s only sister. My father the poor relation of a socially prominent, well-to-do family who settled in St Louis from Copenhagen in the late seventeen-hundreds. He was madly in love with my mother but they had a star-crossed marriage. When I was five years old my mother developed cancer. She suffered great pain that neither she nor my father could bear. One day they dropped me off at Aunt Martha’s and went home. When they were found later that day by my aunt, who was having a tea party that afternoon and had no time for a mischievous boy, they were lying side by side in their bed. My father had shot my mother and then himself.

‘He was a meticulous man. He left a note for the police, one for his attorney, one for Aunt Martha and one for me. I was eight years old.

‘It was a huge scandal which my aunt deeply resented. She had little choice but to take me in as my father had requested. She was part of St Louis high society with more class than cash, just as my father and mother were. Not to take me in would have been impossible if she wanted to keep her good name.’

It was obvious by the expression on Dendre’s face that she was horrified by her husband’s story. It explained so much about Gideon’s behaviour; why he loved her, her parents, Orlando, all of whom were steeped in family affection.

Gideon drained his glass and refilled it. He took one more sip and said, ‘I have never discussed my early life with anyone before. Best you hear the rest so we never have to speak of it again.

‘Aunt Martha, who had never liked me or my father, thought that my mother could have done much better. She had been a great beauty and the family was one of the best in St Louis. I don’t think my aunt ever forgave her. She gave me a room in the servants’ quarters when there were seven master
bedrooms. She was demanding and parsimonious. It was a loveless upbringing filled with petty humiliations, even poverty, in a grand turn-of-the-century house. I saw her rarely and ate my meagre meals with the servants. I was always hungry. After school it was chores. When I was eighteen she gave me the money my father had left me, three thousand dollars, and a stipend from her so long as I didn’t return to St Louis.

‘She said on my departure, “You are a stubborn boy, but talented. Go make yourself into something. We’ll exchange Christmas cards.” We never did. She never missed sending the monthly cheque but never a word of greeting or kindness with it.’

Dendre felt his pain as he was telling her this dreadful story. When he stopped talking they remained silent for several seconds. The silence was broken by the waiter bringing them their main course. After the young man had gone from the table, Dendre said, ‘I’ll send the money first thing in the morning.’ And made no other comment.

Gideon thought to himself, How fine of her not to ask questions. Any other woman would have. He felt a rush of happiness coursing through his veins. He had always considered Aunt Martha’s hand outs as cold charity. Somehow being able to return her money set him free from her hatred. It no longer seemed to matter than she had been so cold, so unloving. That was over, the past was the past.

‘Dendre, I have a surprise for you,’ he said. ‘You know how much Frieda and Herschel want to move to Florida for the winters. Well, I want to give them an apartment there. Orlando is in Miami now, looking for one. There was a message from him at the gallery saying he has found one on the beach he is certain they would be thrilled with. There are even several people from Brooklyn in the apartment building. I called Orlando back and bought it for them. He’s coming here to New York in time for the family outing on Sunday and I will give them the deeds to the place then.’

Dendre was nonplussed, overwhelmed by his generosity. Comparatively recently they had been watching every dollar. Her father was still picking up the bill for their Sunday outings. Her parents had not the vaguest idea how wealthy Gideon and she now were. To Dendre the money in the bank account was
just abstract figures that kept adding up. Hardly reality because they had never drawn any out for extravagances. Now, suddenly, those figures were houses and apartments and old debts repaid. She couldn’t possibly know how to deal with spending so much. But Gideon did and would teach her.

‘That is so generous. They yearned to make a move to Florida but it was just a day-dream, unattainable. And you’ve made it come true.’

Dendre rose from her chair and went to kiss Gideon. They smiled at each other and she went back to her seat to finish her meal.

It was only later, going home on the bus, that she realised what was happening to them. Gideon was sweeping away the past, making way for a new life. Once more she would have to meet the challenge. Once more she would have to make an effort to fit in with Gideon’s celebrity. She had no worries about that; she had become strong and sure of herself as Gideon Palenberg’s wife. These new changes would be but a further refinement of that, she told herself.

It was a matter of days after that lunch at the Café Cholson that Dendre realised how easily Gideon was slipping into the role of great painter, another Picasso, Miro, Rothko. The world was at his feet and he was spinning it any way he wanted to while she lagged faithfully behind, his shadow, his keeper.

The next few years brought another child into their lives, and three new residences: on the Island of Hydra in Greece, on Fire Island, and a vast duplex studio-cum-home in the city. It brought too, for the first time, separations. Gideon would on occasion make a trip: to be present for the hanging of a show, to talk to architects and builders working on one of their houses or his studios. Dendre would be left behind though he would call at least once a day. The children and running three houses gave her a life as busy as her husband’s. Being wife of Gideon Palenberg, mother of his three daughters, was a full-time job.

They lived a grand and exciting life now. When the children were old enough they were sent to the best private school in New York City. That was why Gideon acquired the Fire Island property: easy access from New York by water taxi, then quiet and seclusion so he could work undisturbed. No more was their
life the simple togetherness of two people in love. There were now assistants for Gideon; maids, cleaners and house boys for Dendre to ease her load.

One afternoon, while she was window shopping on Madison, she stopped to look at a massive marble vase filled with an assortment of white lilies. They were breathtakingly beautiful. Ever since Haver took Gideon on, fresh flowers had been included in the household budget. She was wondering whether to buy them or not when she looked through the window into the shop. Gideon was buying flowers – the lilies in the window. The assistant walked away from him and began taking the flowers from the vase, stem by stem. She looked up once and smiled at Dendre who very nearly went in to join her husband but thought she might be ruining his surprise so instead scuttled away from the shop.

He arrived home late that evening empty-handed. The flowers had not been delivered. She had a difficult time keeping calm, asking no questions. Instinct told her that it would be the wrong thing to do. The right thing would be to face the obvious: he had another woman. She rose above that torture and put it firmly to the back of her mind.

The children were asleep and so there were only the two of them dining together. Gideon was flattering about the meal, seemed happy and vital. After dinner they went down to his studio and talked about the house being renovated on Fire Island while he worked. It was midnight when the intercom buzzed. Dendre jumped at the sound. Gideon placed his brushes in a jug and turned the easel to the wall. The intercom went again.

He went to Dendre and kissed her then told her, ‘It’s only Terry.’

She felt relieved that it was someone she liked and told him, ‘He’ll be hungry, looking for a meal. I’ll go upstairs and put something together for him.’

‘I’ll open a bottle of wine,’ Gideon told her.

Terry was about the same age as Dendre, a sculptor whom Gideon thought showed real promise. He and Dendre had befriended the young man who often dropped in on them. He was rather a wild and free soul who had many times told Dendre and Gideon of
the orgies he’d enjoyed attending. Dendre had often been titillated by tales of his sex life.

Terry ate his food with gusto and they all drank far too much. By now they were sitting on the double bed covered with a wolf skin blanket that Gideon kept in his studio so he might stretch out on it when he needed a break from work. It was where he and Dendre had their more erotic and adventurous sex.

Dendre realised that Terry was high on more than wine. He seemed to her to be speeding, even more outrageous than usual. Gideon was enchanted with him, found Terry stimulating, a fresh new thinker. It was two in the morning when their guest began caressing Dendre. Embarrassed, she moved away from him. He slid closer to her and kissed her on the cheek, her neck, the lobes of her ears. She was aroused by his advances but broke the spell by standing up.

‘Gideon, your wife is the sexiest woman … but then, you must already know that. Let’s undress and go to bed, the three of us.’

‘I’ve never seen my wife having sex with two men. How would you like that, dear heart? I would like it enormously.’

Dendre was shocked. Gideon approved of her having another man. He actually wanted a threesome. She had had too much to drink and her resistance was low, her libido stronger than her morals. She considered it and sat down again between her husband and Terry. Gideon kissed her passionately and she yielded to him. He undid the buttons on her blouse and kissed her again as he slipped it off her shoulder. Terry saw Dendre transform herself from the placid, rather boring woman he and the world knew into a seductive lady with lust in her eyes, a hunger to be riven and sated.

He caressed her breasts before settling his mouth over the nipple of one. Dendre reluctantly pushed him away. Gideon took Terry’s place at the same breast. She found it exciting, and a little frightening. The two men continued caressing her. She came and called out, unable to keep her immense pleasure to herself.

To Dendre the very air the three of them were breathing seemed to be erotically charged. Yet she forced herself to grab for her blouse. Things were going too far. Terry was too quick for her. He flung it away and took her hands, kissing them.

‘For a long time I’ve wanted to have sex with you and Gideon,’ he said. ‘I dream of Gideon and me both fucking you at the same time. Doesn’t that excite you? Don’t pretend it doesn’t. Let yourself go sexually – you’ll love it.’

She very nearly laughed. He had no suspicion that she always let herself go when it came to sex with Gideon; that she was far more depraved with her husband than any women Terry had ever had.

She looked at Gideon and said, ‘I don’t want to do this.’

‘I would like you to. It would be thrilling for you and excite me to share you with Terry,’ he told her.

‘I would never want to share you with another woman.’

‘But you will if I ask you to,’ he said.

‘I’m afraid. You are the only man I’ve ever been with, and what if people find out?’

‘I promise I will never tell a soul,’ said Terry. ‘And if I did, they wouldn’t believe it of you.’

There was more pleading from Dendre but neither Gideon nor Terry let up on her. It was dawn when Terry finally let himself out of the studio. Dendre slept on until midday. Gideon woke her with her usual morning kiss and told her how much he loved her, that she was the most sensual woman he had ever had, and kissed her and fondled her breasts.

Why had he picked that night to have a threesome? He was a cheat and had other women, and now she had been had by another man. What was he telling her? That it was all right for her to take a lover? That it piqued his lust, his love of adventurous sex? Gideon had yet again seduced her, charmed her into a sexual adventure. She had done it to please him and as a result had had an extraordinary night of sexual bliss. Whenever she acquiesced to his wishes she always benefited.

‘Gideon, I went shopping yesterday and passed a florist’s,’ she told him. ‘They had only one thing displayed in the window: lilies. Long-stemmed, large-headed white lilies, Arum, Longe and Casablanca. I contemplated buying them all for us, they were so marvellous.’