BELLE’S BALLS Belle Henderson had raised more money for the Fine Arts Forum than any previous hostess when she coordinated its annual masquerade ball last Halloween. She was also known throughout the state for her annual homecoming ball at Vinemont College. Silently congratulating herself for one of many thankless duties as the president’s wife, she glanced back at the tables she’d centered with the school’s colors: metallic gold gift bags anchored by purple balloons. Belle bounded up the red velvet stairs for her afternoon workout. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she unsnapped the red athletic bra. Belle knew she looked great in mid-life. She had the body of a dancer--leggy, muscular...ready. During Chet’s moodiness following a showdown with the Faculty Senate, he had said, running freckled fingers through his pale, thinning hair, “Young George Armand seems to take a fancy to you, dear. Perhaps you could get through to him.” That’s how it started, innocently enough, but the plan had backfired on Belle. She was determined not to be a notch on Armand’s jockstrap, but she thought of him far too often. She grimaced over the irony that recollections of Armand with his perfect buns and smoldering eyes had led to her initial discovery of exercise as a physical outlet. Belle often worked out after feeling aroused by Armand, who had complained about her decorating budget when she had the gym installed. She now was led to the treadmill by anger toward him and his nosy faculty friends out to get her husband fired. Sexual energy, poisonous anger, whatever--she loved a good workout. She moved smoothly on the Nordic Trak, listening to jazz from the intercom. She loved the sight of her breasts moving to the rhythm of the sensual music. She remembered the first time she had seen Armand at a reception after a board meeting. He hovered in the corner with a group of angry, bearded profs, his hands gesturing so passionately she thought he’d drop the cigarette he hungrily sucked. She figured if he made love with the intensity he smoked cigarettes, he could be deadly. Her jogging speed increased, as her anger escalated. When she realized she was fantasizing about the S. O. B. again, she