Throughout history, woman has faced the oftentimes unpleasant choice of giving her total self to save either a principle or a loved one. Perhaps the first such recorded incident, other than various quoted incidents in the bible, was the sacrifice the young princess of Egypt, Cleopatra, made to her Roman captors. Many love stories have been written around the relationship of Julius Caesar, Marc Anthony, and the hapless princess, but it is fairly well documented today that her love was not for her conquerors but for her people, whom she attempted to save by the use of her womanly charms from their hated conquerors.
In Mr. Hornby's novel, he has applied this situation to a not too unusual modern-day circumstance. He has placed the heroine, an innocent young housewife, in a position where she must make a historical Cleopatran choice. That is, the choice between the love and well-being of her husband or the prostitution of her own body and soul. Her task, unfortunately, is not made easier by her ambitious but irrational young husband. He becomes, in effect, an unwitting instrument in his wife's own moral destruction.
We, the publishers, do not wish to make a decision as to the justification of our heroine's action but will leave this to you, the reader. In saving her husband from his own avaricious greed for the material things of life, we can only hope that it shall raise the question and consequently lead to serious thought by you, the reader, on this entire field of moral justification.
-The Publishers
CHAPTER I
It was a thoughtful day for Julie Jeffers. Late summer, muggy, lonely. She was in the kitchen, staring out the window at Terry Creighton, their tall, leggy next-door neighbor, who was playing a thin column of water on a sun-bleached spot of lawn. Terry moved with an air of conscious dignity, almost a lightness, even though her voluptuous body seemed to be designed solely for abandon and pleasure. It was popularly accepted that Julie and Terry were the unchallenged beauties of the block.
The telephone rang, jolting Julie back to her immediate surroundings. It was probably Eric, her husband, making his daily noon call from the lab. She dreaded picking up the receiver.
"Julie? Listen, I've decided on dinner. Fish, just fish and a leafy vegetable. You can choose the vegetable, but please, try for once to come up with something nutritious and practical."
"Eric, I-I'm not sure there are any sales around. And you know how upset you get when I shop at Paddie's. You've told me time and again not to buy from him, because he's too expensive, even though he's so close and convenient."
"Goddammit, Julie, can't you manage to walk to Save-Rate? I mean, it's not that far-maybe fifteen minutes each way. Or do you want to argue about that too?"
"Oh no, I'll gladly walk there. It's just-just that I'm supposed to finish Terry's party dress this afternoon, and as you've said, we can use the money she'll pay me for helping her."
Eric's silence at the other end of the line was like an accusation, proof of Julie's chronic incompetence.
"Julie, please, just go get the fish and try not to think for yourself. I'll be home at the usual time."
"All right, I-" A click, then the hum of the dial tone, cut short her reply. She had meant to ask if he felt well, if things were running smoothly at the lab. Once again, she shuddered at her stupidity, how she always failed to please him.
Dressing in preparation for the walk to Save-Rate, the huge market in the shopping complex at least a mile away, she assessed herself in the full-length bathroom mirror. At thirty, she seemed lovely even to herself, her high bulging breasts spilling in tantalizing contours from her narrow shoulders. Her stomach was flat and willowy, making her waist an altogether dramatic and exciting contrast to her full breasts and sleek hips. Only a dime-sized birthmark flawed the unbroken perfection of her smooth creamy buttocks.
True, she was not as tall and self-contained as Terry, but felt in herself a potential, a restless urge, that somehow justified her own secret belief in her desirability.
As she applied eye makeup, she studied her face, her huge brown eyes, the delicate high-arched nostrils, the lips curving above like gull's wings on the downbeat, and full below. In college she had earned a beauty title, and yet, no boy had ever asked her out a second time. She had decided that they all wanted the same thing-to seduce her, the campus beauty queen, and then strut around bragging about it. But she had never given in. And then Eric had appeared, a bright boy with a brilliant future in engineering. He had never made a pass at her, was sensible and considerate, and had showered her with gifts and fevered declarations of love. It had been more her fault than his, that night after the football game and party, when she had allowed-actually encouraged-him to unbutton her blouse and fondle her breasts. She remembered the terrible weeks after that night, when she was certain his finger had got her pregnant. Now she wished he had done more, that she had been even bolder and more vulnerable. Perhaps their sex life would be different now, really exciting, and not the embarrassing ordeal that they felt obligated to endure two or three times a month.
As she was hooking her bra, the front door buzzer sounded, loudly and insistently. It was probably Terry.
"Come on in," Julie shouted through the partially-opened bathroom door. "I'm in here, getting ready to go shopping."
"It's just me, honey. Nothing important. I just came over to tell you the news: I've lost six whole pounds since last weekend. Isn't it wonderful?"
"Why, Terry, that's marvelous! I'll bet Jake's proud of you. But you're not planning on losing more, are you?"
"Not much more-maybe a pound or two," Terry said offhandedly. "Don't kid yourself about Jake, though. He's too busy screwing his clients' wives, and anybody else he can, to lose any sleep about my figure. But I don't really care what he does on the road. He brings home those nice fat commission checks, and they make practically anything tolerable."
"Terry, you don't mean that," Julie chided as they moved into the kitchen. "You and Jake seem so happy. Everybody thinks so. I'm almost envious. I don't mean Eric and I aren't happy; it's just that lately he's been under such pressure at the lab, and we-"
"Oh, come off it, Julie! We both know perfectly well that your husband's a flop in bed, and blames it on you. It's pretty evident to anyone with eyes. If you two weren't such idiots about sex, you'd shake your dated morals and try something new. Read up on it. Even doctors are saying that extra-marital sex can enhance, and sometimes save, marriages. And it can even be profitable."
"What do you mean?" Julie asked. "If you're suggesting that wives ought to become prostitutes, to submit themselves to-"
"Poor, poor Julie," Terry mocked, smiling. "I guess you'd rather bow down to your impotent husband's abuse than use your head? Come on, Julie, what's so bad about saving a marriage, no matter what methods you use? As for making it pay, you know as well as I do that money is one of Eric's major concerns. Believe me, if I were in your shoes-and if Jake weren't so damned successful-I wouldn't think twice about getting involved in some sort of juicy sex thing. I wouldn't mind the fun, either."
Julie was surprised when she realized that she had been listening intently to Terry, hinging on her neighbor's words as though they were invested with great wisdom. Everything sounded so logical.
She was late, though, and despite the fact that her curiosity was piqued, Julie was anxious to excuse herself and start for Save-Rate. Eric had been adamant about dinner and would be furious if she failed to meet his demands.
"Please, Terry, forgive me," she begged, "but I've simply got to shop for dinner. Maybe we can discuss this later."
"Sure, I understand," Terry soothed. "But think about it, anyway. If you ever work up enough courage to do something about saving your marriage, let me know. I'm chummy with some of the more enlightened couples in the neighborhood, and I might be able to work you two into the action. You might find some answers to your problems. To be perfectly frank, I'd like to claim some of the sweets myself, but Jake's always out of town, and it's a rule that only couples can participate."
"Thanks, Terry, but Eric and I would never agree to anything like that. And please, don't ever mention to anyone that we've even discussed this subject."
"Fine, honey; suit yourself," Terry shrugged. "I've got to tear off now anyway. And besides, you've got to begin your daily ritual of servitude ... to stuff your supremely stable husband with sacrificial food and undeserved praise."
Julie hurried on the way to the market, spurred on as much by anger as fear that perhaps Terry was right. She prayed she would find a sale on fish-or at least be able to juggle her allowance so that Eric would believe she had been thrifty. Then her thoughts turned to Terry's remarkable knowledge of sex and what she made sound like a harmless way to supplement the family income. Terry had seemed so certain that any such venture-whatever it was-was really innocent and enjoyable.
CHAPTER 2
Julie received news of the Creighton's party the next afternoon. Terry had telephoned to invite her and Eric, seasoning the invitation with suggestions that this might well indeed be an ideal opportunity to salvage Julie's and Eric's marriage. The guests sounded exciting, not at all the usual sort. Terry had gone through the list, describing each person with candor. First, there was "a wild-eyed, very progressive poet" who was coming with two of his mistresses; then an ex-priest; an irreverently witty photographer; several couples from their own neighborhood; and someone really mysterious, a film director and producer, about whom Terry knew next to nothing. Even Jake would be there.
Julie was strangely, disturbingly thrilled at the prospect of the party. It would be an excellent outlet for the tensions that had been building up inside her. Hopefully even Eric would enjoy himself. She had called him at the lab and been flabbergasted when he had expressed an eagerness to attend the party.
Just as she was putting the finishing touches to her face, the telephone jangled.
"Jule-this is Terry. Listen, dress to the teeth this evening. Lester Mauley, a big man in pictures, is coming, and I've heard that he's always on the lookout for talent. Remember what we talked about? Well, try to loosen up and be nice to him, for me. He might put you on to something worthwhile. Just keep it in mind. I've got to run now. Bye."
Julie lingered a moment, the monotonous dial tone lulling her into a hypnotic acceptance of the vague opportunities that the name Lester Mauley formed in her mind. She replaced the receiver on the hook and headed for the bedroom, a peculiar sense of hope lending an unaccustomed pertness and courage to her stride.
"Please hurry, Eric. We're already twenty minutes late. You know how Terry is when her guests are the least bit late."
Seated on the edge of the bed, pulling on his socks, Eric grunted and frowned. Julie felt a little abashed at her own boldness, talking to him that way, and stood staring at him, waiting for the expected reprisal. But he continued to dress, silently and with deliberate haste. Involved as he was, he failed to notice her drawn-out appraisal of his body. She had not dared to look at him long and openly-at his flaccid penis and balls, the curve of his rump-for nearly two years. His frequent inability to achieve and maintain an erection made him extremely sensitive about his genitalia, so she studiously avoided any reference to the area. This evening, though, she hardly considered the fear of reprimand. There pulsed in her a new hope, an as-yet undefined sense of adventure and self-importance. Something in her was at the brink of fulfillment.
The party was already under full sway when, almost forty-five minutes late, Julie and Eric arrived. The living room was filled with the strains of exotic guitar music, muffled somewhat by a vulgar tenor voice issuing folk rock from the downstairs den. People were everywhere in the house, milling about, swilling down their drinks, searching for either Terry or Jake to secure refills. Still feeling deliciously agitated, Julie left Eric and wandered into the kitchen, looking for Terry. She was startled to see an extraordinarily handsome middle-aged man with both hands under a young girl's skirt. Shocked but fascinated, Julie stood a moment in the doorway, observing the spectacle. Then she recognized the girl: Marsha, Betty Lorimer's eighteen-year-old daughter! The girl was smiling and slowly rotating her hips in the older man's lap. The others in the kitchen were completely oblivious to what was happening right in front of them. They were obviously much too occupied to notice, being themselves lost in conversation and drinking.
"What a gorgeous dress, Julie! Why, you're absolutely beautiful!" Terry cooed as she slipped through the throng and casually kissed Julie on the cheek. "I was afraid you and old grouch-puss had changed your minds about coming. Well, what do you think of the party so far?"
"Terry-" Julie halted, not knowing quite how to express her consternation at seeing Marsha Lorimer being so flagrantly fondled by a man more than twice the pretty girl's age. "Terry, I-don't you think Betty ought to know what's happening to Marsh? Look at them-and she's actually enjoying it!"
Terry grinned and patted Julie consolingly on the shoulder. "I wouldn't worry, honey, if I were you. Betty's setting a fine example right now, in the back bedroom, with her husband and a nice young man they met at one of their own parties. Besides, Marsha is in wonderful hands. That's Lester
Mauley she's with."
"You mean the film producer you mentioned, the one who's 'always on the lookout for talent'? " Julie asked, her face coloring with the register of even greater shock.
"The same," Terry said, still smiling. "Come with me now. I'll fix you a really wild drink, something to help you get into the swing of things."
As they left the kitchen, Julie saw Mauley's right hand withdraw from under Marsha's skirt and disappear inside her blouse. Marsha's own hands were busily employed inside the man's unzipped trousers, rousing him on to lewd, even more enthusiastic manipulations of her breasts. Her lips were parted, and she seemed to be breathing heavily. Julie's heart raced madly, her legs rubbery as she followed her hostess into the lavishly decorated rumpus room.
Eric was already drinking, his expression clearly showing disapproval of the orgy-like atmosphere of the party. As Terry moved around behind the portable bar to fix herself and Julie the special, "really wild" alcoholic concoction she had mentioned, Eric leaned close to his wife and whispered: "Jesus, what a disgusting bunch. It looks like it's turning into a screw-in, one of those obscene sex fetes you read about. Hollywood, hippies. And you can't begin to imagine what all this is costing Jake. Foolishness like this makes me sick!"
But Julie paid little attention to her husband's disgruntlement. Instead, she gave herself over to the fascination building within her. The music, the smoke-choked air, the people paired off or in small clusters, and the thought of the handsome film producer brazenly squeezing and exploring Marsha's lush young body, made Julie feel helpless and submissive, unable to fight down the excitement provoking her to wish she were more a part of the party. The cocktail was working, too. Occasional rushes of warmth flooded her loins and softened everything and everyone in the room. Even Eric seemed less formidable, and she found herself thinking back to the excitement she had felt on that night they had come so close together in the back seat of his car, his hand on her breast, her taut tingling nipple growing more and more rigid between his thumb and forefinger. She remembered how he had probed the swollen lips of her vagina with his other hand, finally slipping into its warm, moist interior with first one, then two fingers. She had pushed her crotch down against his hand, shamelessly, wantonly aching to engulf him.
"Julie, baby, I want you to meet someone, a very distinguished guest and personal friend of the Lorimers. This is Mr. Lester Mauley," Terry beamed, her hands joining theirs in a salutary manner. "Les-Mr. Mauley-has a horribly exclusive studio right here in town. It might pay you to get to know one another. I'll see you both later, after I refresh everyone's drinks-especially Eric's," she said over her shoulder, departing with flourish.
"So then, you're Julie," Mauley offered. "Terry has spoken of you with reverence and, I might add, seems to think we have something in common." His voice was deep and cultured, as though he had had training in diction as well as in the art of charming any female within range. "But let me suggest that we move to a quieter place, perhaps the living room, where we may talk without all this ghastly chaos."
Wordlessly, she followed the tall, smartly-dressed man to a small couch in the living room. Oddly, she had forgotten Eric, all the others, that this man had been taking cruel advantage of Betty's daughter in the kitchen, and was involved in some mysteriously illicit enterprise.
Mauley cast a quick glance around them, satisfying himself that they were safely out of earshot of others in the room.
Moving closer to Julie, he spoke in a conspiratorial tone: "Terry has informed me that you're desperately in need of money, a great deal of money, which you might be interested in earning at your leisure, afternoons. I believe I can help you. You see, I own and operate a small, quite private studio where my associates and I film and photograph art subjects. Quite frankly, we deal mostly with nudes, sometimes filming couples or groups to personalize and highlight the creative aspects of uninhibited socialization. I pay quite handsomely and am sworn to protect the anonymity of my models. As for the films and photographs themselves, they are discreetly distributed among responsible agents in this and several other countries. What do you think, I mean knowing what I've explained to you?"
"I-I can't say yet, knowing so little about what you really do. Is there some way I can see for myself without becoming too involved?" Julie squirmed on the couch beside him, a brief flash of fear and her habitual feeling of inferiority coming over her. Her sheer, daringly low cut dress felt weightless, inadequate as cover from Mauley's insulting professional evaluation of her tense, ripe body. His hand, his right hand, the same one she had watched invade Marsha's blouse, moved to rest warmly on her arm.
"Please try not to interpret my offer as anything but strictly business, Julie. Should you decide to accept, you may rest assured that your work will be thoroughly delightful and challenging, and damned profitable. You'll be making a genuine contribution to a select segment of our society."
"Yes, yes, I understand-I think I do. I-I just-my husband-" Julie faltered, not really clear on what she had started to say. Mauley's hand tightened reassuringly on her forearm, then moved away and dipped inside his fashionably tailored English tweed jacket, reappearing a second later with a small white card between his fingers.
"Please take my card and stop in to see me tomorrow afternoon, say between one and two o'clock. The address is on the card. Now, let's join the others and have another of Terry's scandalous cocktails."
She rose with Mauley-Les, Terry had called him-and together they picked their way through the crowded rooms to the rumpus room, where she was relieved to find Eric engaged in a heated debate with Jake. They were arguing, with much animation, about alloys, something having to do with whether or not the hybridization of iron and brass really changed the character of good beer. Eric was very drunk, wore a supercilious grin, and waved his glass to punctuate the most decisive points in his argument. He did not notice Julie's entrance with Lester Mauley.
The party had increased in tempo. The music was now frenetic, the air even thicker with smoke and a medley of perfumes. Julie saw Marsha Lorimer standing in a corner across the room, her father's arm around her waist. Betty was behind the bar, a husky, brute-faced man in his mid-twenties seated in front of her on a tall stool. They were laughing and exchanging knowing, intimate looks according to the rules of some conspicuously erotic game. Betty, a splendidly endowed woman of forty with long black hair, leaned forward on the bar, her huge breasts resting like balloons on the highly-polished oak surface. Her young playmate cupped both of her breasts in his hands, then lifted his clenched fists to his mouth, tilting them up as though he were drinking an imaginary offering. Julie felt her nipples tingle and harden as she watched them, wondering if Bill Lorimer had also seen his wife and the young man playing their sex charade.
Suddenly Terry was beside her. "So there you are," Terry scolded as she motioned for Julie to follow. "Hurry, I want to show you something interesting."
"One thing's for certain," Julie remarked as they descended the stairs to the lower level of the house, "I've never attended a party anything like this. But what really amazes me is that it's all happening next door to my own home, and many of my closest friends are the center of attraction."
"You're just growing up, honey. For that matter, the whole country's growing up-at least as far as sex is concerned. What's most ironic, though, is that we're just now getting around to accepting an attitude toward sex that many so-called 'backward' peoples have had since the year-well, for a long, long time."
"Terry, how on earth do you know all this-about sex and people and things changing?" Julie asked with undisguised awe and respect in her voice.
"I read ... and listen," Terry answered. They were approaching the den. Terry turned and put her finger to her lips, indicating to Julie that they must be quiet now. A half dozen or so guests were standing just inside and around the den door, all staring raptly into the room. Crowding up close to the others, the two girls craned their necks to peer into the room. What Julie saw took her breath away.
A short, heavily-muscled man, whom she had never seen before, was sitting naked between two apparently young and yet totally uninhibited girls, also naked. Slouched down on the couch, as much on his back as his buttocks, he wore a smug grin and had his hands clasped behind his head. His long, thick penis rose totem-like and inflamed from his corded loins, his heavy testicles hanging like wine sacs over the edge of the cushion. One of the girls, a blonde with curd-white skin and vermilion-tipped breasts, was bent over the man, sliding her lips up and down the length of one side of the pulsing cock. Then, as if by tacit agreement, she grasped the man's lust-hardened member and thrust it toward the other girl, a dark-complexioned girl, who immediately seized it and began to tongue the wide spreading head. The man arched, his hands coming from behind his head almost involuntarily to wind his fingers, in the dark girl's hair and pull her mouth down to his throbbing penile staff. Responding, his lust her own, she squealed and crammed his fleshy piece deeply, deliberately into her mouth. The thick spongy shaft drove down to her throat, choking her, until she sucked upwards, greedily milking his semen off, savoring the taste of it mixed with her own saliva. She then began to suck in earnest, her dark tresses bobbing as she pumped her head rhythmically over the breadth and span of the huge oozing organ. Julie pressed against Terry, frowning, and afraid that her hostess might detect that she was trembling and out of control. Nevertheless, it was urgent to Julie that Terry's attention be directed to the fact that the Latin girl might be suffering, ashamed.
Waving off Julie's panicky intrusion, Terry took her friend's arm and advanced a few steps. It was then that Julie noticed that the man's nudity was not complete. He still wore a pair of intricately-tooled cowboy boots, the heels of which were then not three feet from her own.
"My God, Terry," Julie groaned with child-like disbelief, "look at her! She-likes it!"
The blonde pulled the jerking penis from the other girl's mouth and plunged it into her own moist cavern, her lips thin with the pressure of her arduous sucking. The dark girl burrowed her lush wet lips in the cowboy's pubic bush, gradually, teasingly, inching lower and lower toward his huge throbbing testicles.
"Bear down, ooooooh, suck, suck, you lousy cunts!" the cowboy shouted, his hips bucking upwards, imbedding himself in the honey-haired girl's throat. Julie mashed her dimpled thighs against Terry's firm buttocks and pointed with her chin toward the trio. The Bubbly white lather at the corners of the girl's mouth frightened and intrigued Julie. "Is he cumming-is he cumming in her mouth?"
"Not yet, honey, but soon," Terry assured her with glee and a strange hoarseness. "Be quiet and watch."
Ramming deeper and deeper into the blonde's sucking mouth, the man turned his gaze directly to Julie, who was now kneeling almost at his feet, her eyes glazed with shock and amazement. He winked at her and grabbed his balls, pushing one of the boiling orbs into the dark girl's open mouth. She whispered and with her free hand eased his other testicle between her full lips, gently pulling and pushing his elastic scrotum as she rolled her hot tongue from side to side. His breathing was heavy, mounting. He was almost there.
Sensing the nearness of his peak, the blonde tightened her lips and, working her hands under his backside, pulled the cheeks of his ass forward, driving his loaded prick into her throat up to hilt. He convulsed, phlegmy white jets of cum spurting and gorging her, into her slender throat. She swallowed and pulled on his cock, eager to gulp down every last drop of his sperm, but thin streams of the precious fluid seeped from her red wet lips and ran down the still-lurching shaft, to its base, where the other girl was waiting to lick off her share of his cumming.
A spirited murmur, rising to a pitch of applause, rose from the onlookers. Then, to Julie's surprise, Terry strode to the center of the room and, raising her hands above her head, clasped them together in a gesture of victory.
"Bravo, bravo," she yelled, wheeling to one side and extending both hands, palms upward, toward the exhausted performers. "Now you see-America lives, Rome is reborn! Congratulations! Let's have a hand for sex and poetry!"
Without thinking, Julie joined the others in hearty applause. Both girls stood, nodded, and just as Terry had, opened their arms in admiration to the conceitedly smirking cowboy, who rose unsteadily and returned the compliment in like manner, not only to the girls, but his audience-and to Julie in particular.
"If I may," he said, "I'd like to thank you all for whatever inspiration you gave me during this happy, if carnal, encounter. And I'd like especially to laud my hostess for having the good sense and ... money to arrange this occasion. Nor am I blind to her taste in neighbors-namely, the felicitously shaped young woman now at her side, of whom I've heard glorious reports from my latest, I hope last employer, Lester Mauley. May we meet again."
"Okay, everyone, let's go upstairs and have a nice tall drink to celebrate that pretty speech,"
Terry suggested.
As the group straggled up the stairs, Julie turned to Terry and asked, "What did he mean? Is he really working for Mr. Mauley? How did he find out about my conversation with Les-Mr. Mauley?"
"Don't fret yourself about it, baby. No harm's been done, and anyway, it can't hurt anybody's reputation to be friendly with that madman of a cowboy. He's one of the best poets in the world today. Les just wants to help him, the same way he wants to help you. You'll see," Terry said softly.
* * *
Although Eric was unusually garrulous as they crossed the lawn and entered their silent house, Julie said nothing, not even agreeing, as she normally did, with her husband's pontifications and self-righteous judgments on everything under the sun. She wanted only to rest and still the rising tides of idea and emotion inside her. And she wanted to dream and relive what she had lived that night.
Settling into bed, Eric gazed at the ceiling and, as though Julie were not beside him, said, "I can't understand it. All those people lushing, laughing like hyenas, even flirting ... and no one having fun."
CHAPTER 3
The air was cool, the sky gloomy gray, as Julie mounted the steps to Lester Mauley's studio. She was glad she had heeded her impulse to wear her black wool knit dress, the one Eric had given her on their first anniversary. She remembered how guilty she had felt, knowing that the dress was an extravagance they could ill afford.
She smiled, then, reassured by the sumptuous facade of the studio, which seemed positive proof of Mauley's wealth and veracity. It seemed strange, though, that only his name was listed over the mailbox. There was nothing to indicate that his third-floor apartment was "a small, quite private studio" where art subjects were professionally filmed and photographed.
As she waited for someone to answer the door, she attempted to assemble the events of the night before in a rational order. First, there had been her alarm at seeing Mauley in the kitchen with young Marsha. Then, even more unexpected, there had been the cowboy-poet, his lovely mistresses, and the incredibly liberal behavior of most of the other guests. Everything about the party had been shocking, yet fascinating and-
"Yes, may I help you?" the petite blond asked, her boldly casual scrutiny of Julie no less startling than the sudden appearance of someone at the door.
"Oh, yes-yes," Julie stammered. "I've an appointment with Les-Mr. Mauley-now. That is, I mean he said to come about this time. I'm Julie Jeffers. I met him-we were introduced last evening, at a party, my neighbor's. Is he--? "
"Sure, he's here," the blond smirked. "Come on up."
Julie could not help but notice the blonde girl's loose, arrogant gait as they approached the elevator.
"You going to work for Les?" the girl asked, again with almost studied casualness.
"I don't know. I'm only here to-to talk," Julie said. "You see, I've never modeled before or been much of anything but a simple housewife."
"Well, don't worry yourself about the work. It's a cinch. I got used to it right away. Les has a reputation for being the best in the business. Okay, here we are," the blond announced as the elevator grumbled to a stop. They stepped out of the cubicle, turned left and strode down a plushly carpeted corridor. Despite her escort's cocky demeanor, Julie grew even more optimistic when she felt her feet sinking deep into the luxurious pile of the carpet.
At last they stood in front of a huge door inscribed with Mauley's initials and, in tasteful Gothic lettering, the word, "Private." The girl inserted a gold key in the door, and they entered.
Inside, Julie drew a sigh from her throat as the opulent decor of the room assailed her senses. Quite obviously it was a waiting room. There were impressionistic paintings, a brass rack laden with sophisticated magazines, and three sculptures comprised of complicated but provocatively fluid armatures and convexities. She wondered what Eric would think of such a show of affluence, if he would be awed or annoyed.
It occurred to her that she was alone, that the blonde had disappeared. Then the inner door opened and Lester Mauley materialized as though from another world, his brow beaded with sweat, his eyes flashing.
"Julie, Julie darling, you came! I hope I've not kept you waiting. We've been filming, you know, and I'm notoriously forgetful when we're shooting. Do forgive me."
"I've only been here a few minutes," she said shakily. "Your friend helped me find my way." Julie's smile was unconvincing.
"That was Norma, my girl Friday, you might say. She's been a perfect brick since she's been on the staff. But let's get down to business. I think it most imperative that I be honest with you from the beginning."
Julie stiffened, her full chest heaving nervously. Mauley's directness disturbed her.
"I can't think of considering you for a position until I'm absolutely sure that, you're qualified. If you've no objections I'll put a few pertinent questions to you. First off, may I inquire as to your exact age?"
"I'm thirty, almost thirty-one," she replied with a haughty innocence. "My side of the family keeps well-and we're all disgustingly healthy," she added, a note of halfhearted apology in her voice.
"Of course I can see that, my dear, but what are your measurements?"
"I'm not certain, exactly. Is it really necessary that you know that too?" Julie's face flushed a bright crimson, her eyes searching at Mauley's feet for respite from his intense gaze. "If it's all that important, my bra size is 36-D, most of the time, and I wear a size 10 dress. The rest you can probably guess for yourself."
"I could speculate, yes, but I'm not normally given to chance," Mauley said, the trace of a titter qualifying his sincerity. "I'm confident, therefore, that you'll comply with my wish to confirm your implied guarantee that your figure meets my requirements."
Julie gasped inwardly at the man's suggestion. Also intimidating was his insulting leer and what was an unmistakable lump bucking obscenely in his trouser crotch.
"I can see in your expression that you understand what I expect of you. But you needn't feel queasy about undressing here. We'll not be disturbed," he assured her, "and there aren't any more interviews scheduled for this afternoon."
Slowly, awkwardly, Julie unzipped her anniversary dress. She was not as much terrified by the prospect of her nudity as she was by the smooth and calculating anticipation evident in Lester Mauley's handsome anxious face.
"How far down should I go?" Julie weakly inquired, "thinking all the while of the money and how pleased Eric would be with it."
"How far down are you delicious?"
Nodding assent, she hesitantly lifted her filmy peach-colored slip up over her shoulders. Standing clad in nothing more than her straining bra and brief panties, she looked to Mauley for a last-minute reprieve, some signal that her humiliation was sufficient to warrant redressing. But there was no mercy in his eyes-only an insane, high-voltage glint that frightened her to hasten her performance toward its end. Reaching both hands high behind her, she unclasped her bra strap and, shying in a half turn away from his demanding scan of her superb white torso, wriggled loose from the scanty garment.
"Turn around!" he commanded. "I haven't time to indulge your stupid little ego. Let me see your nipples. Ah, ... yes, they're brown and full. Excellently balanced too. But hurry, let's see if your thighs are marked. Strip!"
Without hesitation, Julie responded, wheeling to face the unmerciful author of her latest debasement. She squirmed frantically out of her underpants, almost tripping as she struggled to disentangle them from her ankles. Not even Mauley's infamous right hand plunged inside his loosened trousers, covering his vulgar prick and balls, stalled her willingness to obey. It was similar to the party, she thought: the same unreasonable surging of fire and excitement in her body. And he had promised money, too.
"Indeed, yes, you're perfect! You'll earn a great deal-much more than you imagined-working for me," he said, his eyes feasting hungrily on her pearly curving hips and the dark brown triangle of pubic hair between her thighs. His hand slithered lasciviously over his throbbing, now partially exposed rod, a gleaming nodule of semen welling at the tip.
"What shall I do now?" Julie asked, her question a frail whisper.
Mauley edged wordlessly forward on his chair, motioning Julie closer with his free hand. He then opened his fly all the way. She could see his sperm-bloated balls nestling like fat bells below his erect penis. Moving toward him a few steps, she was remotely astonished by what she was doing, but at the same time acutely conscious of how her own action aroused her.
"Now, Julie dear, comes the real test. Many girls, the silly ones, flunk out at this point." His breathing was dense with lust, his facial features transfigured as he inhaled her sweet, clean musk.
"Closer, dammit, come closer!"
As she moved a step forward, her belly inches from his aristocratic chin, she thought of Eric and their barren years together, of their hardships and blind forages into sexual play. What would he think of her disgrace-that she was worse, a worse fiasco as a wife, than he now thought?
"Sit down, there, on the couch," Mauley wheezed, crossing to the couch himself. Suddenly he snaked out his hand and seized her wrist, pulling her down forcefully beside him. Then, without warning, he half-rose and knelt on the floor between her firm thighs, staring at her soft curling pubic mound and the slightly wet lips of her tight cunt. His experienced hands moved under her buttocks, digging into her flesh so fiercely that she whined from the pain.
Just as she shut her eyes, Julie caught a last glimpse of his satanic face easing down toward her sensitive vaginal slit, and the realization of what he was about to do made her recoil with a momentary repugnance.
"No ... oh, please, don't, don't do that!" she sobbed; but Mauley's grip was powerful and unrelenting. "Please, no one has ever done that.. . not even my husband ... Don't! It's making me sick!"
But her cries merely goaded him on. His long tongue flicked like a lizard's at her cringing vulvae, purposefully teasing her to increasing responsiveness. Julie opened her eyes and watched with horror as he placed his thumbs on her naked cuntal lips and drew apart the downy fluff framing her sex. She groaned with the thrill of his first probing inside her vagina. Her body automatically arched upwards, her stomach churning with wave after wave of sensuality. "Ohhh, please ... please stop! I can't bear it-it's making me ... I'm-Jesus! go on, eat me, eat me up, you bastard! Use it-suck my guts out!"
Crazed by her bleating, his victory, he plunged his tongue further and further into her now squirming cunt, absorbing the flow of her cuntal juices with a relish uncommon even to him. He buried his face deeper between her thighs, sucking and slurping, and began to spread the full rounded cheeks of her buttocks with the rude ends of his fingers.
"No, God-no!" Julie wailed. "Not there too." But Lester Mauley continued to abuse her, running a presumptive finger around the contracting circle of her anus. He pushed slowly into the tight rubbery chamber with the middle finger of his right hand-one knuckle, then two grinding into her. Rising from her raw, slippery vaginal slit, he confronted her face to face with his glistening lips and grinned inhumanly as he withdrew his finger from her rectum.
Sensing his complete mastery of her, he wormed three fingers in her pussy and rolled them from wall to wall, lubricating them with her flowing juices. She jacked her legs back even with her breasts as he wormed two slick fingers back into her rectal cavity and renewed his vile assault of her wide-open cunt.
"Bite me!" she screamed. "Bite my thing!"
"What thing? Say it, you whore!"
"My-my hole ... bite my hole there! I'm ready, yes! Go faster with your mouth ... I don't care-not now, not now! Please finish me, please!"
His clammy paws ran roughshod over her waist and trembling breasts, occasionally dancing down below her puckering navel to where his searing reptile tongue tasted and savored the dual orifices between her widespread legs.
"I'm ready-I'm starting!" Julie shouted, filling the soundproof room with her gasping passion. "I'm cummmming! Ooohhh, yes!" she exploded, jerking and pushing against her new employer's fingers and mouth, the beautiful rush of fiery, spastic relief coursing every nook and crevice of her exquisite shape. "Are you-are you cumming?"
At last she fell back against the black leather couch, her pale arms and shoulders drooping submissively, uncaring that her vaginal mouth was bare and gaping, her secrets revealed. Nothing was left to her now. Mauley's accusing glare did not phase her; it was what she had expected.
His voice came from far away. "You mustn't look upon yourself as a failure. I'm certain you don't realize my condition, or even that men are sometimes unequal to women like you, but I want you to understand that my-call it judgment-my estimation of a woman has nothing to do with my participation with her in an artistic event between the sexes. I'm saying that you're dazzlingly desirable and more than qualified to take a key position in my studio. Most important, Julie, is your responsibility to the masses, their education concerning matters of sex and economic enlightenment."
"I think I finally know what you're talking about," Julie replied in and undertone as she gathered her clothes. "You're using your influence and money to force this generation out of comfortable lethargy. I mean ... your own sexual gratification isn't really the issue, is it? You're more interested in people, in helping them to understand ... to be together...." Her voice trailed off, uncertainty running through her mind as she pictured him kneeling between her legs, his tongue inside her, his fingers insulting her. And he had called her a whore-a whore! Well, maybe I am, she thought, closing her eyes to blot out the indignity of the idea. It was horrible enough to have been so weak and to have allowed her body to surrender to his indecent acts, but to discuss it this way afterwards, actually trying to justify it as art, her "responsibility to the masses. . . " Then she remembered what he had said at the Creighton's party, that working for him would be "a ... contribution to a select segment" of society. How was it possible to do both, to be responsible to everyone and yet contribute to only a few. . . ?
"I know what you must be thinking," Mauley said calmly and almost tenderly. "You're wondering how our involvement this afternoon relates to your work with me. Trust me when I say it does, and vitally. I must be wholly confident that anyone I'm considering for a position be equipped, emotionally as well as physically, to handle the work. After all, others are involved, and I've also got to guard my investments against incompetency."
Julie listened as she straightened her stockings. His mention of incompetency filled her with fear, seemed threatening even though he had told her only moments before that she was eminently qualified to model in his studio. Why, why was she so afraid of failure, of disappointing her husband, Mauley, everyone?
"And now, my precious," Mauley said cheerily, "I think it's the right moment to toast our new agreement." Buckling up his trousers, he crossed the room to one of the sculptures, an abstract, somehow human figure, and pressed something behind it. The door opened at once, and Norma, the slightly little blond, whisked into the room carrying two brandy tumblers, partly filled, and a small sealed envelope.
"I hope everything worked out," she said to
Julie. Then, turning to Mauley, she spoke with urgency, a hint of impatience: "If you're finished here, the others are waiting for you. That damned cowboy's raising hell in there. Oh yes, here," she said, presenting Julie with the envelope. "You'll need this."
"Yes, read the contents carefully, and try not to be late. We'll see you, then," Mauley said as he leaned to kiss Julie's hand for a lingering moment. His fly was still undone.
* * *
Outside, the air was warmer, the sun shining and clean as Julie walked to the bus stop. Once there, she permitted her curiosity to get the best of her. She slit one end of the envelope with a fingernail, and read:
COME TO THE STUDIO AT ONE O'CLOCK TOMORROW. WEAR A SIMPLE HOUSE-DRESS AND BLACK LINGERIE. I'M HAPPY TO HAVE YOU WITH US.-LES. Attached to the note were three crisp hundred-dollar bills, approximately half again as much as Eric's weekly take-home pay.
It was two-thirty according to the clock on the church across the street. She had been in Mauley's richly-appointed waiting room just over an hour, and they had not even bothered to drink the proposed toast. "Yes, maybe I am nothing but a whore at heart," Julie mused, the first glimmer of a smile on her face as she stepped down from the curb to hail the approaching bus.
CHAPTER 4
Julie heard a knock at the front door. She thought at first it was Terry visiting earlier than usual, then remembered that Terry always rang or just burst in, unannounced. Putting aside her coffee, she descended to the porch landing and opened the door. It was Dolores, the single girl who lived across the street in a smaller version of all the houses in the neighborhood.
"Hi, Julie," Dolores puffed. "Excuse me-I'm out of breath. I've been making the rounds this morning, and I swear, I'm going to take Terry's advice and start dieting. She says most people are short-winded because they're too heavy, and I guess she's right in my case."
The only thing too heavy about you is your chest, Julie thought to herself, looking at the young redhead's enormous bosom. Eric had said that Jake and all the other men in the neighborhood constantly joked about Dolores' massive breasts, imagining themselves kneading them with their bare feet. And other things, even more graphic. Julie suspected that it was not only Dolores' ample anatomy that provoked men. It was doubtless the redhead's unyielding, nearly fanatic sense of morality, her saintly attitude, that made her a target for ridicule.
"Uh-Terry tells me you've got a job now," Dolores said, seating herself opposite Julie at the kitchen table. "It's none of my business-and you can tell me so-but aren't you making a big mistake working for a man like that?"
"What man?" Julie asked. "What did Terry tell you?"
"Nothing really, except that you're supposed to be posing for someone named Mauley-in the nude! And she said Eric doesn't know, not even Eric. You'd better listen to me and give up the whole rotten business. Mark me, it'll only cause trouble and make you ashamed to face everyone. I don't know how you even considered such a thing!"
"You don't know what you're talking about," Julie bluffed. "You're making something out of nothing. So please, keep your opinions to yourself ... It so happens I'm working with Mr. Mauley in a purely creative capacity, on an education project, and Eric doesn't know because I want to surprise him with the money I'll earn."
"Well, I'm sorry. Terry brought it up, and I ... it sounded, you know-"
"Yes, I know. It sounded like something exciting, therefore dirty and criminal to your way of thinking. Are you jealous, Dolores? Are you jealous that now I'm doing worthwhile work, something more than just joining church groups and talking about helping people, the way you do? Are you planning to spoil my plan, telling Eric? Are you, you-"
"Julie!"
Julie was shocked but pleased by her own outburst, the daring with which she lied to the self-righteous little bitch. But she was relieved that she had not called Dolores the name she had meant to. The poor girl was shaken enough.
"I shouldn't have spoken that way," Julie said comfortingly. "I'm tense, that's all. The new job is strenuous, and of course you can appreciate that I'm eager to make a go of it and help Eric relax about money, or security." She was further amazed when her words assuaged Dolores with the same effectiveness that Mauley's had had after yesterday's crisis on the waiting room couch.
"Oh yes, I know," Dolores enthused. "I'm truly proud of you, that you're so dedicated to Eric and to the brand new job."
"Thanks ... But now, if you'll forgive me, I've got to clean house and get ready for this afternoon. Drop by in a day or two, if you've time, and I'll let you in on my progress."
When Dolores had gone, Julie went downstairs to the basement closet where she had stored an unworn cotton frock-one she knew complimented her voluptuous contours and yet was simple enough to be classified as a housedress. Her single pair of black panties was already laid out on the bed, and one of Terry's black bras would probably fit.
CHAPTER 5
Julie felt herself, despite the strongest doubts, falling more and more in line with Mauley's way of thinking. She had had a difficult time that morning, fighting hesitances, fears of a disastrous mistake. But she had dressed according to the instructions in the envelope, and now, fifteen minutes early, she sat in the waiting room watching the door to the interior of the apartment. Eric had called at noon, as usual, and nothing had been different in his tone. She had almost hoped he would be tender or in some respect aware of her tenseness. She had wanted him to awaken in her a crippling sense of danger, to strengthen her mistrust of the charming man who was at this very minute just beyond the door, preparing for her entrance; but now danger was dulled, beyond her, in Mauley's hands.
She ran her fingers along the doe-soft leather of the black couch, thinking again of yesterday, how she had been responsive to the sensual invasions, the perverted use of her helpless body.
"Norma said you had arrived," Mauley said as he entered the room and seated himself beside her. He was wearing an exaggerated yet somehow appropriate toreador suit, black, beautifully tailored, an extension of the room itself. "How do you feel today?"
"All right, I suppose. But about the money, I-"
"You what? Listen," Mauley said, chuckling, "you earned every cent of it. Anyway, we haven't time to haggle over a few dollars-or perhaps you've changed your mind?"
"No, I don't think so, but there's talk around the neighborhood. Terry-"
"Nonsense! Mrs. Creighton is quite discreet. I expect she'll join us too, one of these days. Not for the money, mind you, but because she's open-minded and wants to help. You're special, though, and have so much more to offer people."
Julie's misgivings melted, a glow of pride and self-assurance replacing them. No one had ever said she was superior to Terry. She felt a kind of smugness rising in her.
"Now, let's forget about your neighbors and talk about the work at hand. First off, I can't impress upon you enough how important authenticity is in our work. You'll be meeting people inside who know exactly what I want, must have, and they'll help you understand your function. And Norma will help, so listen to her. Often, when I'm busy with technical matters, she'll relay my directions to you-and to whomever else you're working with. Let's go in now. I want to introduce you to someone."
Julie followed him through the door, into a room that was surprisingly like any one of a number of studio apartments she had seen in the low-medium rent district during college days. A couch, a bed, a table, a few chairs-all very ordinary. And there was a man, not much taller than Mauley, seated on the edge of the bed. He was dark, seemed Latin, and his face was cratered with pock-marks.
"Julie, this is Frank. I want you two to get acquainted, talk, get the feel of each other. You'll be working together this afternoon. I'll be with you later." She noticed a strange, distracted quality in Mauley's voice, as though he were trembling and excited.
As he left the room, he cast a secretive glance toward the man on the bed, signifying something outside Julie's comprehension.
"Sit over here," Frank said, motioning to a spot beside him, his eyes quickly taking in Julie's voluptuous curves as she moved slowly to the spot he had indicated. "That's a pretty dress, you know. Not every woman can fill out a cheap dress."
"He-Les-told me to wear this. It's part of the-it's what he...." she bumbled, ashamed of herself and sorry she had not bought something more attractive to wear.
"No-no, don't worry. I know you have better clothes. It's your body, all that underneath, that you should be proud of."
Julie turned to look at him as he patted her soft shoulder with a gentleness and ease natural to one accustomed to doling out sympathy. Then, taking her off guard, he tightened his grip on her shoulder and pulled her close to him, panting a hot firm kiss on her lips. "No, relax," he breathed in her ear as she struggled to free herself from his arms. "You take everything wrong. Les warned me that you would be afraid, silly." She squirmed back a little, aware that a prickle of pleasure was traveling through her thighs. She hoped he could not feel the goose pimples rising like tiny welts where his fingers played lightly at the nape of her neck. His other hand began to creep along her stomach, sawing back and forth and steadily higher toward her breasts. When his thumb brushed the underside of her right breast, she whimpered, an electric shock rippling down her spine and finally coming to rest with searing heat between her thighs. He pulled her close again, this time kissing her ear, his tongue wetly rummaging inside it.
"Please, oh ... You mustn't. Les will be back soon," she said huskily.
"I know, baby, I know," the stranger panted, his hand moving up to fully cup Julie's straining breast. She sighed again and concentrated all her will on thoughts of Eric, her home, the future. But to no avail. Her pelvis began to push and withdraw with a rhythmic rocking motion, betraying her, making her protestations as useless and hypocritical as though she were preaching chastity in the nude. Then he slipped his hand deftly inside her bodice onto the swell of flesh above the black bra. His other hand slipped down her arm and moved under the hem of her skirt to explore and palm the dampness of her inner thigh.
Suddenly he drew away from her and spoke coldly, with business-like evenness. "Undress, baby, right now. He'll be back in a minute, and we've got to be ready."
"I don't understand," Julie blurted. But he seemed not to hear her and rose, taking off his shirt and crossing to the table. She saw that his linen trousers reared at the crotch and were wet at the pinnacle of his protrusion.
"Come on, dammit, get out of that dress!" he yelled, startling her to her feet. When she failed to move, he marched over to her and, with one downward tug, unzipped her dress down the back. He stooped, then, and seized her skirts with both hands, pulling them over her head.
"Keep your stockings on-and your undies. I'll take them off when it's time."
Mauley entered just as Frank tossed Julie's dress to the floor. Norma appeared next, the cowboy-poet hard behind her. Frowning, he clutched a rumpled brown Stetson in one hand and a freshly-opened bottle of bourbon in the other.
"Well, I'll be damned if it isn't sweet little Miss Neighbor," the cowboy boomed, ogling Julie's delicious, nearly-nude body. "And here she is with Mr. Spic, in what seems to me an outrageously compromising position. Holy Christ! what we won't do for a few lousy bucks!"
"Shutup!" Mauley said curtly, menace in his voice. "You'll have your chance to shoot off, if you're not too incapacitated when your turn comes."
Julie forgot her nudity for a moment and stared back at the half-drunk cowboy, remembering him on Terry's den couch, the two lusty girls sucking and drinking his sex. He had chosen her, out of all the women present, to speak to after he had spent himself in that girl's mouth, and now, having dismissed Mauley's remark, he pored over ever facet of her scantily-clad limbs.
"Aha! I see that you like our newcomer," Mauley chortled. "Believe me, you'll have a real understanding of Julie after Frank performs in his inimitable way."
"The cameras are ready, Mr. Mauley, whenever you are," Norma said, the same tinge of impatience in her voice and manner. At that, Julie's eyes darted to Mauley for reassurance, but he was standing by the door, issuing imperious orders to the men wheeling in the two portable movie cameras. As they positioned the equipment in front of Frank and Julie, who were still standing by the bed, Mauley noticed the housedress in a heap on the floor.
"Here, Julie," Mauley said, bending down to retrieve the garment, "put it on again. The title of this film is Infidelity, and I want you to look like a housewife. And Julie, pay no attention to the cameras, nor to any of us. Frank knows what to do; just let your body respond to him."
Julie was vaguely aware of a delicate whirring from the cameras as Frank snaked his arm around her waist and gently forced her down to sit with him on the edge of the bed. A last dim thought of trying to tear herself away from him, and out of the room, flickered in her mind, but dwindled to a spark, and finally out, when the rough-complexioned man swayed closer and placed a series of light kisses on her slender throat. His hands roamed expertly, still lightly, over her breasts and up and down her spine. Sweet chills fluttered involuntarily in her stomach when he pressed his wet lips on hers, his tongue plunging deep in her mouth. She felt a sudden rush of cool air on her back as he unzipped her dress down to the cleavage between her buttocks. He stood, then, drawing her up with him, and coolly pulled her dress over her head for the second time that afternoon. She felt his hand behind her back again, unsnapping the hooks of her brassiere, and next the thrilling weight of her breasts falling full and free from support. She gasped as he removed it from her shoulders and heard him utter a moan of appreciation when the magnificent melons came into view. He sat on the bed and, hooking two fingers in the elastic waist band of her black nylon panties, pulled her last vestige of modesty down over the stark white symmetry of her buttocks. Taking her solidly by the hips, he turned her torso to face him, her soft, resilient pubic hair only inches from his lips. Julie was horrified, and winced, when she heard movement behind her and looked over her shoulder to see the cameras gliding like the eyes of prying monsters to either side of her.
She jumped when Frank's tongue darted forward like a lizard and touched the dewy outer petals of her vagina. His hands were on her backside, pressuring her forward, his fingers digging relentlessly into the spongy vellum of her flesh. She was losing her balance, falling forward against his ugly face, against his marauding tongue now swirling lewdly in and out of her tortured pussy. At last she lost her footing completely and fell with him on the firm surface of the bed. He quickly grabbed her ankles and one shoulder, half flipping her on her back beside him, and then with both hands cupped at her up-thrust breasts, squeezing them cruelly until the nipples stretched and spread like peaches on the verge of bursting. She lay frozen to the mattress, her humiliation complete, as he wormed out of his trousers and returned to the ravishment of her body in one or two fluid movements.
Again, he attacked her aching breasts, closing his mouth over them one at a time, sucking and biting the pink tips to hard rubbery erection. Julie felt his stiff rod burning poker-hot into her thigh. Despite her revulsion and the waves of disbelief that this was actually happening to her, little pangs of raw pleasure began to nibble at her nerve-ends, peaking in her nipples and budding into full flower in her throbbing clitoris. His breath thickening, Frank brought his left hand down and worked his middle finger into Julie's nakedly contracting cunt.
"Oh, ooooh! My God, noooooo!" she cried even as she involuntary ground her hips higher against the greedy, invading finger. Her legs splayed wider apart, exposing her moist quivering cunt to the leering lenses of the cameras moving in for close-up shots of the spectacle.
"Now! Fuck her good!" came Mauley's shrill voice from somewhere in the room.
Frank rose on the bed to his knees and began to stroke the taut uncircumcised foreskin of his brazen shaft.
"What do you think of that?" he grinned, waving the hardened rod of flesh' before her unbelieving eyes. She tried to speak, to tell him to stop, but he continued to display himself as she watched with tears filling her eyes. His body eased up to her, and he lifted and bullied her legs high and back over her writhing shoulders until she was bent almost double. She jerked and fought in one last desperate struggle, her head flailing from side to side, as he introduced the blood-swollen prick into the slightly parted lips of her tight, defenseless cunt. She held her breath as the long, hard thing penetrated the tender walls of the passage, flexing and growing with each measured stroke. Each thrust drove him deeper and flattened her knees painfully into her chest. Then he humped faster and faster, deeper and deeper, his pistoning cock disappearing up to the hilt as his sperm-bloated testicles slapped hard down against her tiny puckered anus. She had lost her will now, and she knew that, in spite of her humiliation and disgust, she was totally subjugated by this unknown man pumping wildly into her. She reached up to encircle his back with her arms, grinding her lust-drenched vaginal crevice harder to him as his ardor maddened him on to ferocious speed and savagery. She no longer knew fear-only the glorious sensation of lying beneath this man who was fucking her against her will, and giving back to him as much as he was giving her.
His hands clamored frantically under her buttocks, cupping each cheek and raising her pelvis for easier access to her depths.
He toiled above her, feeding her longer, smoother strokes that drew his cock out of her to its blunt, hardened head, then banging back into her, punished her cervix anew. She was oblivious to the approach of one camera to a position less than a foot from the edge of the bed. Mauley gestured maniacally and pointed to the thin, glistening lips of Julie's tight, hair-lined cunt wrapped obscenely around the hammering penis. Without looking behind him, he wiggled his fingers to invite the waiting cowboy to join the fun.
"Okay, you bastard, do your stuff," Mauley whispered tremulously in the cowboy's ear. Without a word, the gangling cowboy plucked off his hat-the last of his clothing except for his boots-and lay down beside Julie, his loins aligned with her head. He glanced up at Frank, smiled, and grasped Julie's head with both his hands, arching his hips toward her face.
"Go ahead, fuck her face!" Mauley screamed.
Responding, the lank cowboy hunched his muscular back and guided his giant, half-hard cock to Julie's lips. She convulsed, unable to fathom the threat of the slowly-lengthening penis pressing against her teeth. It was too much to focus on at once-one cock gurgling and ramming in and out of her belly, another one, much larger, trying to push into her mouth. But, oh! what a heavenly nightmare.
"I'm almost there, I'm almost-" Frank hissed as he abruptly halted his motion and searched Mauley's face for directions.
"Switch-switch, then, for God's sake, and hurry!" Mauley said.
Then, scrambling for new vantage-points on Julie's body, the two men traded places and resumed their violations of the sumptuous openings of the girl at their disposal. Frank's cock found her mouth and mashed inward between her lips without hesitation. The rapidly-sobering cowboy ran his mammoth prick into her hungrily clasping cunt.
They fucked into her for a minute and, his eyes rolling back, Frank hoisted Julie's head and rocketed a hot, searing stream of pungent, white cum in her mouth. Gagging, she swallowed but was unable to keep from losing some of the gushing liquid at the corners of her mouth. Still, the cowboy with his boots tucked between the springs and frame of the bed, dug his huge driving muscle into the flat plane of her wildly pulsating pussy, stretching and abusing the elastic, marble-like walls with a vengeance.
"Fuck me-fuck me harder! I'm starting ... Oh God, I'm cummmmuiming, cummmmming!" Julie shrieked, her full white buttocks swirling up and almost disrupting the boring rhythm of the cowboy's gyrating lunges.
"Give it hell, baby!" the cowboy puffed down into her lust-contorted face, renewing his assault and plowing his huge bulging prick into her with even greater fervor and abandon. Julie writhed ecstatically under him, her tremendous passion at its crest, her lips parting as she moaned and kicked madly with her heels digging wildly at the man's driving buttocks, spurring him on.
"Jesus! here I come, bitch!-here's my load!" His lean flanks began to jerk uncontrollably as his organ expanded with the first rushes of cumming, the viscous liquid spurting deep inside her, filling her starved cavity and squirting out at the base of his cock with every new thrust. She could feel it, warm and sticky, running mercury-like down into the crevice of her ass and onto the sweat-soaked bed. Gradually the cowboy's motions slowed to a halt-and then, delivering one last spastic stroke, he collapsed uselessly on her flushed body. After a moment, he lifted himself from between her still wide-split legs and withdrew his steadily-deflating member from her vagina with a lewd popping sound.
Julie lay immobile, limp, watching the exhausted performer roll over on his back beside the equally drained Frank. She was paralyzed by shame and could not yet encompass the entire meaning of what had happened. This morning she had been a loyal and innocent wife to Eric, and now she lay here with the foul sperm of two utter strangers still running out of her. Yet-something, a lingering thrill, still hummed excitingly in her nipples, in her flared cuntal passage. If someone, anyone, wanted her now ... she would not resist or even care much. Nothing mattered now. Not anymore.
As though reading her thoughts, Mauley approached her, holding his hardened cock as he hurriedly greased its pulsing length with a clear jellyish lubricant.
"All right, you two," he gesticulated to-Frank and the cowboy, "off the bed!" When the two men had moved away and gone to the back of the room, Mauley looked at Julie with a devilish glint in his eyes. "I presume you're ready for the finale, my dear? Or would you rather go home only half-satisfied?"
"What are you going to do?" she replied blandly but with faint interest.
"You'll see," he answered, helping her to her knees. "I'm going to fuck you ... just that."
Nothing could be more debasing than what had already happened, Julie decided, and allowed herself to be positioned for his use. She obeyed his sharp commands to turn away from him and kneel like an animal on her hands and knees, her ivory buttocks presented to him like a sacrificial offering. She cringed and rocked forward on her hands when Mauley's finger came into contact with the tightly-puckered lips of her anus, ambitiously massaging and tracing its velvety rim.
"Not there-not there too," she suddenly wailed as she became aware of his intent, but her convulsive sobs only excited his depraved mind to more deliberate action. Clinging fiendishly to one cheek of her ass, he placed the tip of his cock at her tight, cringing anus and pushed the oozing end of it an inch into her, crushing and drawing the soft outer skin in with him. Then, a slight snap, and he was in! a third of his huge, hardened penis was sunk in her ass! Her pain-racked torso pitched forward, away from him, but he followed her like a human dog after a bitch in heat, his knees shuffling onto the bed with her, his hands grinding and milking her breasts sadistically. Now he was almost buried in her, and she felt her clitoris tingle as his balls swing closer and closer to it with each lunge. She was actually liking it!
"How's that, slut! You like being fucked in your ass-hole, eh! ? "
"It's good-it's...."
"Tell me, what am I doing-what do you want!? "
"You're fucking me-in-in my ass-hole! ... And Oh God, please don't stop, ever!" she heard herself beg piteously. "Fuck me faster, faster.. . oooooh, faster!"
Mauley's face contorted as she pleaded for him to go on. He lambasted her rectum like a maddened beast, his tempo increasing with her cries, until they were at the edge of the far side of the bed. His moment was building, coming on with a force and drama that made him drool and lose strings of spittle on the small of her back. Her own forces were mounting again, and she ground salaciously back on the man's thighs to enjoy the full benefit of the hardened pole of male flesh mauling her within.
Then, without warning, his desire spilled into her and brought on her own cumming. They convulsed and fell over like helpless insects in the throes of death.
Seconds later, Mauley disengaged himself from his depleted partner and gazed glassy-eyed at the cameramen. "You got that, all of it, didn't you?" His question came in short gulps, a query intelligible perhaps only to his long-experienced technicians-and to Norma, who was scribbling notes on a piece of crinkly parchment. Mauley rose, then, and strode arrogantly to the couch.
"You know," he said, "I'm thoroughly convinced that we should make this into a sequence ... Say, a series of films depicting the American housewife's return to nature. With Julie's assets, there's no telling what might develop-a veritable, tour, maybe, of sexual and social enlightenment." With this last remark, he turned to Julie who was still sprawled on the bed, the wetness of their sperm matting her pubic hair and pooling beneath her. "What do you think, love?"
Her silence provoked a wry smile on Mauley's face.
"By the way, Mrs. Jeffers," Norma said, tossing her blonde hair as she went over to Julie, "here's your envelope for today. The instructions for tomorrow are enclosed." Then, her nose bunching up into an impish grin, she added, "You do have a leopard skin, don't you? Well, if you don't, I'm sure you'll be able to afford one with what's in today's envelope."
Julie rose quietly and dressed, avoiding the others' faces as she swiped here and there on her body with the towel that Frank had handed her a few moments before. She was astonished that they could be so casual and indifferent so soon after the humiliating orgy that had ended only five minutes ago. No one had even asked how she was; whether she was alive or anything. But what difference would it make, she wondered, wriggling her foot into her shoe; what could possibly change things? She knew that she should be filled with repugnance and loathing, but she was not, and this alarmed her more than anything ... Then her attention turned to Mauley, who was busily assisting the cameramen as they fussed and tinkered with the expensive equipment. Even if he were not her employer, and had not submitted her to such vile treatment, she knew he was not the kind of man she would consider her friend. She made that very clear to herself, for among his shortcomings of character there was something about him, evasive, hidden. His aspirations, she sensed, were somehow apart from the self he presented normally.
"Julie, dear, we'll see you tomorrow. You'll be certain to follow directions, won't you."
When Julie arrived at the bus stop, she noted that the church clock read almost three. She had only fifteen minutes to get home if she were going to prepare the roast in time for Eric's dinner. For some reason, he had insisted, during his noon call from the lab, that they indulge themselves and have a really luxurious dinner that night. It was un-like him to encourage extravagance, the cost for no particular reason ... Suddenly realization flooded her: Of course, today was their anniversary! Why else? And today, of all days, when she had committed her first infidelity, had soiled their marriage by allowing herself to be violated by three strange men! If only-if somehow by magic she could wake up and discover that it had been all a dream ... If she could make up to him...
Then she remembered the envelope and tore it open.
Five-hundred dollars! The note was brief and specific, as before: CONGRATULATIONS, MY DEAR. YOU WERE WONDERFUL-FAR BETTER THAN EVEN I EXPECTED. TOMORROW, I SHOULD LIKE TO INTRODUCE YOU TO SOMETHING MORE ADVANCED (WITH A BONUS, OF COURSE). PLEASE SECURE A ONE-PIECE LEOPARD SKIN TOG TO BRING WITH YOU.-LES.
Five-hundred dollars! Cash! Enough for months and months of house payments new carpeting, the home workshop Eric dreamed of-practically anything! And there was still yesterday's money, which was safely stashed away in her lingerie drawer. A fortune!
Despite the thought that she might miss her bus, she hustled across the intersection toward a small shop with a sign that advertised "Fine Imported Wines and Liquors." Perhaps not even Eric would notice that the dinner wine was not the same ghastly stuff they occasionally allowed themselves, on holidays or when he wanted to display his generosity.
CHAPTER 6
"Dinner was nice, Julie, but I'm sorry you weren't quite up to par on your salad. In fact," Eric said mockingly, wagging his head from side to side, "I'd say the lettuce would hardly inspire a rabbit-not even on his anniversary."
Julie declined to answer, relief coursing through her. He had not detected the difference in the wine, nor in her. All evening she had been afraid that he would see in her some miraculous transformation, some telltale sign of her betrayal. But he had been his usual grudging self, dwelling instead on his anniversary gift to her, and inexpensive necklace of jade ... And more than once he had scolded her for daring to squander what must have been "at least a day's pay" on the dress shirts she had given him.
As she washed the decanter into which she had poured the wine, to disguise its excellence, she calculated her strategy for the ordeal to come. Always he had chosen anniversary nights to enact the sex farce that had embarrassed them for years. There was little chance that tonight would be an exception.
"What do you say we turn in?" Eric said with nonchalance. "I guess you're pretty anxious to celebrate our anniversary ... as always."
"Yes, I'm very tired," Julie lied. "I'd like to store up a bit of extra sleep tonight. Terry's asked for another fitting tomorrow, in the afternoon, and the excitement this evening has me off-balance."
"Off what!? On our anniversary!? Goddammit!" he blared, his face reddening, "I just don't know what to make of you. You've been behaving like a giddy school girl ever since that damned party!" His furor increasing, he stormed off toward the hall bathroom, detouring at the landing at the top of the stairs to snatch up the box with Julie's necklace in it. "There!" he screamed, slamming the box against the wall, "there's your present! Pick it up!"
* * *
Bougainvillea poured down the hillside behind the house, and the hummingbirds were spinning. Julie felt ill with all the whirling, the colors and fragrances ready to topple on her. She had come out early to sit on their one weather-worn lawn chair to feed the birds, and think. Last night had been awful, worse in many ways than the experience at Mauley's studio the day before, and Eric's anger had converted the satisfaction and joy she had felt into a sordid recollection of her encounter with the others-Frank, the cowboy, the lewd bestial act by Mauley, and Mauley himself. And Norma, always so knowing and insultingly smug, as though she had lived several lifetimes of degradation, and survived. Would she become a Norma, so jaded and "enlightened" about sex and exhibitionism that she would one day jot down notes about it with the same efficiency? God, no! she resolved with an inward sweep of conclusive triumph. She would learn, earn, and get out, be herself again...
"Julie, honey, are you crying?" Startled, Julie whipped her head around and watched Terry's form sharpen through the tears. "You silly, what's the matter?"
"Nothing, nothing at all! Haven't you ever been happy enough to laugh this way? And besides, what do you know about girls like me? It's only-oh damn!" Julie broke down completely, her body convulsing with sobs.
"Honey, come on now, let's talk about it," Terry said softly, seating herself to cradle Julie in her arms. "Has that dopey husband of yours been beating you down again?"
"Oh Terry, it's not just that. I feel so guilty, so-dirty! I can't make myself believe that what I'm doing for Les is worth the money."
"So that's it," Terry said, brightening. "Listen, you ninny, haven't I told you I'd do the same thing myself, and enjoy doing it, if I were in your shoes? ... All right, look at it this way. You want to save your marriage, don't you? You want to help Eric. Well, it's a cinch that he's not going to admit his own fault as far as your sex life is concerned. And it'll take years for him to earn enough to be satisfied-if he ever can be. So you've got to take the initiative, just as you've done."
"But he'd hate me if he knew," Julie objected.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say he hates you now. To tell you the truth, though, I'd be willing to bet that he'd respect you a damned sight more than he does now-after the fireworks, of course-if he did know. So take it easy. You're doing the right thing."
"I wish I could really believe that, Terry. At least I feel better, though. Thanks."
"Don't mention it. Just fill me in on what happened yesterday at the studio ... and don't leave out anything!"
"I'd rather not," Julie demurred, "and besides, I've got to get ready. I'm leaving early to do some shopping on the way."
CHAPTER 7
Julie arrived at the studio fifteen minutes late. It had been exasperatingly difficult to find a leopard skin outfit her size-and mortally embarrassing to ask salesclerks to help her. In desperation, she had finally purchased a tiger-skin bathing suit that was more revealing than even her most daring underwear.
When she followed Mauley into the apartment, she was astonished to find that it had been radically changed. It was no longer the modest setting she had seen the previous day. There was a plethora of tropical plants, vines trailing down the walls, rocks, and a kind of synthetic mossy grass covering the floor. There was a plastic-surfaced imitation of a pool where the bed had been yesterday. In all, the room resembled a jungle glen out of a fairytale world.
"Are you impressed?" Mauley asked.
"Yes, but what does it mean?" Julie frowned.
"It's today's theme, the setting for your return to nature from frustrating domesticity. You'll see ... But have you the garment I asked you to bring?"
Julie showed him the tiger suit and obeyed his directions to step behind a clump of ferns to change.
"You'll be assisted by Norma today. She's already aware of the nature of today's sequence, so please listen to her."
Norma's entrance punctuated Mauley's statement. She was dressed in what appeared to be an authentic leopard-skin sarong, her breasts and thighs jiggling piquantly as she walked. She flashed the same knowing smile at Julie.
"Les, if you'll call in the others ... and get the performers," Norma suggested. Nodding, Mauley left the room and returned instantly with the same familiar cameramen and two large black Nubian goats at the ends of dual leashes. The men stationed the cameras in front of a great boulder with a hollowed-out cup large enough to seat a human figure. The structure seemed to be made of plaster and was tapered down from the peak of what could be used as a back-rest, into two furrows about eighteen inches above and on either side of the hollowed-out seat. The edifice piqued Julie's curiosity, and she moved closer to inspect it.
"That's right, Mrs. Jeffers," Norma said, "just sit down there in the rock and watch." Norma then led one of the goats to a spot about two feet away from Julie, unsnapped the leash from its collar, and indicated to Mauley that she was ready.
"Start the cameras," Mauley bawled, plopping down in a canvas chair between the cameras. Julie watched the blonde girl's face assume a primitive look as she petted the billy's flanks and slowly knelt by its hindquarters. Still stroking the animal, her long fingers creeping carefully toward the underside of its stomach, Norma spoke gently in a tongue the beast seemed to recognize. He bleated and stepped up to the rock, rearing to place his forefeet alongside Julie's thighs. Norma moved with the goat, then sat and scooted under him on her buttocks, her legs spraddling the dark shiny hooves that supported his haunches. Julie's heart throbbed crazily as she watched the blonde's hand take hold of the goat's hairy sheath and begin to milk it with lewd authority. She saw the creature respond, his natural lust kindling and jerking his muscles to life. His dark pink prick began to emerge from the black outer casing, watery jets of fluid arcing out and onto Norma's cheeks and shoulders. Norma skinned back the humping cock and grasped it with both hands until Julie beheld the smooth rubbery head on the staff, at its visible base, surging toward the shameless girl's lips.
"Blow the bastard-suck it!" Mauley erupted from behind the floodlights.
Norma flinched and then opened her lips for the lunging column, fighting to guide it into her accommodating mouth. After one abortive attempt, she managed to suck the long tapered animal cock in, her lips purling and drawing on him with .all the vigor of a lover. Julie hardly dared to breathe. She felt as though she had been caught in the act of some crime when the enormity not only of what she was witnessing, but because she was witnessing it, struck her. It was just as if she were an accessory, her very silence an agreement to help foster this undeniably unnatural act.
"He's going to cum-soon..., " Norma gasped, coming up for a gulp of air. The cock banged harder into her throat when she resumed her wild sucking motion. It seemed that the girl wanted nothing else in the world but to please the black creature whose testicles dangled and slapped against her throat with an obscene but steady cadence.
A strange masochistic hotness seethed in Julie as the goat picked up his pace and tried to gag the girl below her. She could sense the load building, the animal's sperm rallying in his balls, and found herself wishing it were hers ... Then, a slushy swallowing sound came from Norma, and she locked her hands hard around the Nubian's humping buttocks, pulling him forward and deeper into her mouth. He shivered and poked himself into Norma like an air-hammer on its last dying leg. She choked and swallowed frantically as the goat's boiling cream exploded into her. Julie uttered a little cry as she saw the girl's cheeks fill and empty, fill and empty, thick curds of goat-cum slavering obscenely down her chin and onto the girl's hard breasts.
"Get it-get it!" Mauley screeched. "A close-up ... get the cum!"
Incited by Mauley's enthusiasm, Norma purposely dribbled more of the milky substance from her lips and ran her slithery tongue over the oozing distended hole at the tip of the animal's cock.
"It's your turn now," Norma whispered up to Julie as the goat stumbled away. "Yours is the fresh one, with a fresh load, and all you've got to do is spread your legs and get the wildest fuck of your life."
Julie's eyes skittered uncertainly across the room to where the other animal was standing in a corner by the door. A moment later, as Norma led the large black ruminant up to the boulder, Julie could see that he was taller and much stockier than the other one. She watched the beast with increasing inner excitement and felt a new tenseness in the soft, fleshy folds of her cunt.
Then, with the same agility and cooperation that the first goat had shown, this one grunted and also reared to place his feet on either side of Julie's nearly supine torso, but higher, this time alongside her shoulders in the scooped out furrows. Once again, Norma knelt down and began to manipulate the thick hirsute sheath, her long delicate fingers stimulating the Nubian almost immediately. His moist inner shaft appeared within seconds and was solid and long, already flexing and spurting salvoes of thin burning liquid of Julie's spread inner thighs.
Norma nudged the goat forward a step and leaned against Julie's left leg, opening the helpless girl's groin even further, then, with the experienced fingers of one hand, parted the lips of Julie's pussy to reveal the juicy palpitating entrance to her hidden secrets. With her other hand, she helped the goat's flailing cock find a beginning purchase in the cavern, and stepped back. Julie groaned unashamedly as the brute's hardened animal member drove tempestuously into her, his balls beating with a weighty rhythm against her exposed rectum. She began to claw and pull the wiry flanks closer, her own open vaginal slit lashing out to meet his lewd assault. She reached far down and clutched his swinging sacs gently, turning her face sideways to avoid the creature's lolling tongue.
The prick throbbed almost painfully inside her and felt as if it were charged with a thousand needle-sharp volts, and now she was crying and tossing even more wantonly, her beautiful face blotched pink with ecstasy, her eyes closed, head rolling, her lungs afire as she gyrated in a be-crazed circling motion.
"Fuck! Fuck hard, you bitch ... up in your belly!" Mauley chanted, a faraway glint in his eyes, his right hand jerking up and down the length of his own naked penis with a frenzy.
Julie felt the first delicious torrents of the goat's scorching white sperm splutter into the depths of her cunt. It surged into her like a volcanic outburst, violently, warming her groin and touching off her own climax with a brain-reeling pleasure. All her feelings of humiliation and fear went up in the smoke of her cumming. She was not even aware of the others watching her, filming her indecent subjugation, her face registering lurid delight as she sucked with her inner muscles to absorb the last dregs of the black goat's hot, scalding sperm.
She sighed as he pulled out of her with a rushing, sodden sound and pivoted on his hind feet to land on the floor. She was covered with her own sweat, consumed by fatigue. A fleeting sense of loss came over her as she watched the departing Nubian's limp penis disappear into the fleshy sheath. She stared at him for a long time, her vision still glazed with dwindling passion, but the ugliness of reality was returning, bringing with it dishonor and strong waves of dread at the thought of facing the others. She rose quickly and snatched up the tiger skin she had discarded while the blond had been sucking off the first goat. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Mauley and the others observing her, still showing traces of sexual intoxication in their expressions. My God! she thought, how much further must she sink into filth before they were satisfied?
But Mauley had turned his attention to the photographic equipment again, and Norma was occupied with the goats, fastening the leashes to their studded collars.
"If that's all for today, Mr. Mauley, I'd like to finish dressing and leave...." She lingered a moment, expecting him to ask Norma to fetch the envelope. But no one spoke or seemed to acknowledge her presence. Finally, Mauley faced her and shrugged his shoulders. "Okay, Julie, go. We're not keeping you."
"But.. . I haven't been paid. You said yesterday there would be a bonus...."
"Now, now," Mauley returned sarcastically, "you've had your bonus, haven't you? It's not every afternoon that a simple housewife is fucked to her heart's content by such a grand animal as you've enjoyed." Winking, he once more applied himself to the cameras. Julie's body trembled with rage and confusion that she had been so hatefully duped. Tears filled her eyes and ran in salty rivulets down her flaming cheeks. "No, no!" she wept. "You can't just use me and ... and cheat me! I'm only doing this for money!"
His voice mellowing, Mauley strode over to the distraught girl and put his arms around her. "Oh Julie, I was merely teasing you. Of course you'll be paid, and handsomely, for your work today. Norma, please get the envelope. It's in the usual place."
Assuaged by his mollifications, Julie dressed and waited by the exit to the waiting room, her posture slack as she witnessed the removal of the jungle props from the room.
"In case you're wondering, we're shooting phase three of a series of still shots this evening. There's a staggering demand for our material. We have to work for into the night sometimes, to keep up and, then too, to fit in the schedules of some of our part-time models."
Then Norma breezed in, now fully dressed and immaculately made up, and proffered the white sealed envelope to Julie.
"Don't plan on being here tomorrow, honey. We're flying to the big city to have a batch of film processed and distributed. So take it easy and think over what you'll do with all your money. Maybe you'll want to buy some livestock," she chuckled.
"Never mind Norma," Mauley sighed, his eyelashes arching to simulate his burden of suffering, "for, while she's wonderfully proficient, she's lacking in grace and discretion."
Julie smiled perfunctorily and stuffed the envelope into her purse. She wanted to run, to dematerialize in thin air, and yet to somehow retain her bizarre new life, its adventure and danger and oddly rewarding shamefulness.
"Shall I come day after tomorrow, then?" Julie asked humbly.
"Just follow your instructions, dear," Mauley answered, his tone still smooth but implying that he was chafing to get back to work. "We'll be seeing you."
As Julie stood waiting for the elevator to come to rest at ground level, she felt another gush of sticky substance dampening the crotch band of her panties. A mixture of alarm and wonderment ran through her. What if the goat made her pregnant? she asked herself, remembering a modern poem she had read about a thing-half man, half animal-in a bottle on exhibit in some museum. Then she laughed aloud at the thought of what Eric's parents would say if she presented them with a child that was half goat. Well, they would at least have the grandchild they want so much, and Eric could make a fortune ... if he could explain it.
CHAPTER 8
Autumn was approaching, the northern winds shifting and reshaping the clouds on the horizon. Julie Jeffers was peering out through the rain-blurred kitchen window, wholly absorbed in how the bull-like drops dimpled the little pools in the back yard. She sat with her legs crossed under a huge eiderdown, the editorial page of the local newspaper spread out on the table beside her. She had attempted several times to read it-just because she wanted to familiarize herself with topics to discuss with Eric-but found herself unable to concentrate. Instead, her mind buzzed with questions and dreams of what she would do with her earnings. Above all, how could she account to Eric her possession of over thirteen hundred dollars? She had neglected to consider this point, one that might very well change their chance for happiness and security into a dead-end horror of misunderstanding, maybe divorce. Perhaps Terry would have a solution.
Resolved to seek her neighbor's counsel, she threw off the quilt and went downstairs to get her raincoat from the laundry-room closet. Stopping before the mirror by the front door, she fluffed her hair and checked to see if she needed lipstick. What she saw in her reflection made her pause. Her face was drawn and there were the beginnings of dark pouches under her eyes, yet there was a newness, an almost succulent, mysterious quality in her youthful features. She looked more than ever like a real woman, a woman with experience, background, a story to tell...
The short jaunt next door had been enough to soak Julie's feet and drench the front of her dress.
"Honey, honey, come in! Good Lord, you're sopping!" Terry remonstrated as she helped Julie free her arms from the raincoat. "Why didn't you button your front before you left?"
"I thought I'd make a mad dash ... I'd no idea it was raining this hard.
"Well, let's get some coffee down you. Dolores is here, and dry I might add. We'll all have a nice chat and catch upon the latest," Terry said merrily. "Dolo, Julie's here, soaking! Go into the bar and get some bourbon for this poor lamb's coffee."
"That might be nice," Julie giggled.
When the three women had pulled their chairs up to the living room fireplace, Julie was thankful that Jake had acted upon Terry's nagging suggestions that a roaring fire would keep her company while he was on the road. The yellow and blue flames licking upwards were comforting, peaceful. And the spiked coffee warmed and lulled her stomach like a tender caress.
"Hey, tell us what's been going on at Mr. Mauley's studio," Dolores said with obvious eagerness.
Terry's face eluded as she gave the buxom girl a reproving glance. "She'll tell you when she's ready, not before."
"Oh, that's all right," Julie said. "Actually, we're filming a series, a thing involving nature subjects, about an American housewife's return to nature ... that kind of thing."
"Animals too?" Dolores asked.
"Well, ... yes, animals too."
"I think I'm beginning to get the drift," Terry said slyly. "Knowing Les, I can imagine what you've been up to. Was it fun?"
"It's-it's just work, Terry. Whether it's fun or not doesn't enter into it." Julie hesitated, then went on, boldly: "I've learned a lot about myself and what makes me tick, so it's been more rewarding than fun." She shifted in her chair, her eyes narrowing to slits as she leaned closer to them, her manner one of great confidence. The generous portion of bourbon in her coffee was having its effect. "Yesterday I learned that sexual desire isn't really desire, but stimulation. A woman reacts to almost anything, man or beast, if properly introduced. Les-"
"Les taught you," Terry blurted in. "He taught you how to look upon your body as an instrument of pleasure...."
"Of pleasure!" Dolores shouted, her own volume shocking her. "But surely you and Eric ... surely you get enough ... pleasure at home, with your husband, with Eric ... married."
"Oh shit, Dolo," Terry said with boredom, "can't you, just once, forget your dismally sexless God and listen to reason? It's no damned wonder that you're twenty-two and so wearyingly virgin that even the women in the neighborhood pity you. Stiff upper lip Dolo, the frustrated Carrie Nation of Rapple Drive, the shining untouched chest and saint of the state ... Goddammit! go get laid, you'll be less tiresome and more yourself!"
"Terry!" Julie cried. "She doesn't know. She's not married. She's just out of her teens ... You had no right."
"Julie, please, let's go," Dolores pleaded brokenheartedly, copious tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Well, I guess we'd better. Come on, honey,"
Julie said as she held the weeping girl and at the same time negotiated her arms into the sleeves of her red slicker. "You understand, don't you, Terry? We'll talk it over later. She's just upset now."
"Yeah, upset. That's what I was talking about," Terry agreed. "Tell her I'm sorry, though. I was out of line."
Julie got into her own raincoat, shivering as she cast a smile of treaty at Terry, then took Dolores' hand and prepared for the puddle-leaping sprint next door.
Home, Julie settled Dolores at the kitchen table and began a matter-of-fact explanation of Terry's attack. "You shouldn't mind Terry, you know-she's awfully liberal and hasn't any patience with anyone who isn't the same way."
"You're saying I'm a prude, is that it? Oh Julie, you don't know ... All my life I've been ashamed of myself, of my stigma," she said, pointing to her mammoth breasts, "and I can't cope ... I can't make up ... Oh, do they!? "
"What?" Julie asked, reaching out to pat the girl and ward off another outburst of tears.
"Do they ... my friends ... the women ... do they truly pity me?"
"Not really, no. They're concerned, just as I am. But I know what you feel. I've gone through the same thing. And now, for the first time in my life, I'm discovering myself, what I am, what my husband really means to me."
"You're so lucky, having Eric, a home, and exciting job."
Dolores' last remark sparked an incredible thought in Julie's mind. Why not Dolores? Why not introduce her to Les and pave the way to a thrilling future, a self-sufficiency and pride in herself that the girl had never envisioned? Les would doubtless consider Dolores' endowments a boon to himself and his business. And he might even allow the girl to work with her, which would tend to salve her own conscience as well as provide a less humiliating easement for Dolores into the role she would have to fill.
"Dolores, you may be offended by this question, but trust me when I say I'm asking it for your own good ... Are you still a virgin?"
The full-bosomed young girl flinched and sat bolt upright in her chair, her face flushing a deep carmine. Immediately, Julie felt vile and cruel for daring to query the innocent girl so forthrightly, but relaxed when she perceived resignation flow over Dolores' features and throughout her body.
"This will probably surprise you, Julie, but yes ... I've been touched. You might as well know it. My father, my own father! ... raped me when I was sixteen. I've never been able to live it down, ... but oh, how I've ached to tell someone, to confess." Her gaze fell to her feet as the evil memory assailed her again with all its brutal force and detail. She sat in silence for what seemed an eternity, overcome once more by the terrible sense of sin she had been trying to ignore for years, since that awful day, now reviving in her like a chronic disease that not even time could heal. She remembered her mother, the perky little puritan, who held an unyielding belief that the sole function and purpose of sexual intercourse was procreation. And her father, a bull-necked, hard-drinking rogue, who had one day taken her like a common prostitute on the bed in her mother's room. He had even offered her money to keep her quiet afterwards. Then she had joined the church and become active in social affairs, in the choir, Sunday School, anything to make up for her guilt and keep out of range of men, all of whom she was convinced were hellish beasts intent on using her plush body to satiate themselves.
"Dolores, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to pry into your past. I merely wanted to help." Julie regretted what had previously been her catty, uncharitable attitude toward the tortured girl. Rising, she filled their coffee cups, racking her brain for a diplomatic way to introduce the subject of Mauley.
Solving the problem, Dolores continued: "If only I could do something useful, like you, and maybe meet the right man ... someone wise and capable ... someone to help me work out my fears and help me a human being again."
"I might be able to arrange an interview with Mr. Mauley," Julie said tentatively, her eyes searching the girl's face for a reaction. "One thing I can promise-you'll meet men. But I'm not scheduled to see him again until tomorrow."
"Oh Julie, could you!? " Dolores asked, a burst of gaiety lighting her usually doleful eyes. "I'd be so grateful!"
"I'll work out something, don't worry."
Later, after Dolores had left, Julie felt like a wicked demon for having encouraged her to meet Mauley and begin what would surely be the most traumatic phase of her life. And yet, why not? Dolores was single, lonely, anxious to work out her problems and have what Terry so often called "fun" ... Then Dolores' parting words came back to her: "I'll never forget you for this, Julie."
CHAPTER 9
That afternoon's session at the studio had been innocuous compared to the first ones. She had simply been asked to undress and pose alone in the nude. For that matter, she had surprisingly enjoyed striking the provocative postures Mauley wanted for a series of still shots. Nor had she quailed when her employer staged her holding a rubber replica of a fat snake inches from her vagina. Only the close ups of her widespread pubic region (which he had marked "cunt shots" on the script Norma carried) had been improper and debasing. She had also been directed to sit on a dark green easy chair with her legs spread wide apart as she squeezed her jutting ivory breasts tightly together in a gesture of offering to the cameras.
She had mentioned Dolores to Mauley, assuring him that he would be quite pleased with the girl's ripe figure and willingness to further the cause of "social enlightenment" and art. Would he be willing to give her neighbor a try?
Mauley had been more than interested (especially when he heard her candid description of Dolores' dazzling chest) and remarked that he had been contemplating having a party anyway, particularly since his trip to the city had been so profit-ble. Then, in his inimitably bewitching manner, he had made a generous offer to sponsor a "first-rate" party at her house. That way, he explained, he could casually meet Dolores and provide his "associates" with some well-earned distraction. Would tonight be too soon? Julie had pondered a moment, worrying about Eric's response to such a proposal, then said, Yes, it would be fine with her.
Now, having enlisted Terry's aid in the preparation of imagine dishes for a buffet, she was rereading the guest list to determine if she had forgotten to invite anyone. Mauley had said he would handle invitations to his friends and had included sufficient extra money in the envelope to fund a really spectacular shindig. Eric had not been overjoyed when she broached the subject on the telephone, but had finally agreed when she swore that "one of Terry's friends" was footing the entire bill. Lying, she had gone on to say that the friend's apartment was inadequate to handle forty people, the number coming, and that Terry had begged her to ask him if it would be all right. Terry had complied with the prevarication and promised to back her all the way. And Dolores had sounded all aquiver and passionately anxious to meet the prospective employer.
Still, though, Julie could not shake loose the feeling that her intervention on Dolores' behalf might turn out to be a huge disaster. She struggled with the notion that she had no moral right to steer the naive young girl into a situation that could expose her to more shame and compromising depravity than she had known at the hands of her lust-driven pig of a father. But the girl had to confront reality, just as she had less than a week ago, Julie rationalized, tossing off her doubts as she began to think what she could wear that evening. Something exciting! The hell with Eric and his Victorian tastes...! She experienced a tremorous thrill as she recalled Mauley's saying that the cowboy would be in attendance. She grappled with the feeling, arguing to herself that the boisterous man was cruel and quite obviously self-indulgent. Yet, her arguments dissolved as fast as she formed them. She recollected with coarse unwanted delight how he had used her prostrate body, obediently following Mauley's commands and taking turns with the Latin as they had plied her defenseless bodily openings to satisfy their own selfish sexual needs.
Also, Mauley had cautioned her, Norma would be there, wearing a "special" costume, and would be more than willing to help serve drinks and "entertain" where needed.
"Julie, where are you?"
"In here, Terry, in the bathroom. Come on in, it's okay."
"Jesus, what are you doing in here, fully dressed and with the telephone yet?"
"I know it's silly," Julie laughed. "It's just that I've been doing a lot of thinking in bathrooms since I've been grownup. It's easier somehow ... But what's the matter? I thought you'd be home whipping up gallons of intriguing victuals and making ready to seduce every male in sight."
"Well now, listen to little Miss Continental," Terry teased. "Don't trouble yourself about my outfit for tonight. Believe me, I'll manage, baby. As for the victuals, they're ready and waiting. I just came over to add an extra something to the punch we made." Holding up three bottles filled with a thick green liquid, she said, "It's Pernod with real Spanish absinthe, some stuff Jake was lucky enough to buy from one of his hornier clients. Just blend it in with the other stuff. I can guarantee its beneficial effects, that it'll make everyone happier, a helluva lot looser, and less like Eric, who'll probably waste the whole evening just talking and scowling at the guests."
"Thanks millions, I'll mix it in ... if you're really certain it's all right. But please, come a little early, won't you? I'm altogether too rattled to think of everything myself. Do you know, that in all the years we've been married, this will be the first big party we've had?"
"Yes, but don't worry. I'll help set up things. Just don't forget the absinthe, that's all. And you'd better do it when your nervous husband's not watching, lest he decide to pour it out to protect his chastity."
* * *
By one o'clock, hardly more than an hour after the first guests had arrived, the party had already fulfilled Julie's wildest expectations. People were eating, drinking, lavishing compliments on her for her imagination in bringing together such an interesting throng. A three-piece combo Les had hired was in the living room, drinking and chatting freely with guests between numbers. In the kitchen, between the breakfast table (which had been set up as a makeshift bar) and the refrigerator, the gangling cowboy stood swaying, nominating everyone in sight as a potential candidate for a role in some howlingly funny rendition of Hamlet he had dreamt up to charm anyone who would listen. Hardly anyone paid attention, though, which little daunted him, and he pursued the farce with real authority and spirit. Julie promised herself that she would draw aside her drunken colleague, if she got a chance, and persuade him to be less ribald and more a friendly contributor to the genial atmosphere of the party.
Wandering back into the living room, Julie checked a cry when she saw Norma serving cocktails in her "special" hostess uniform. The languid blond wore only a skimpy micro-length skirt, spike heels, and nothing above! Her snowy breasts jiggled and jumped as she moved heedlessly from person to person, bending over to thrust her cherry-tipped nipples in the faces of those who held out only half-empty glasses to be filled. Julie quickly ran through the guest list in her mind, terrified that Eric's boss and several of his co-workers would be insulted and thwart him when he applied for the advanced research position he wanted. Then, coming to the rescue, Mauley rose from a dark corner and announced, "The young Lady you see refilling your glasses is my most valuable employee. Her key function in life is to please.. . If anyone has the profoundly bad taste to disagree, pity the person ... Moreover," the slightly tipsy director added to enforce his admonishment, "my precious Norma can't tolerate men without push enough to assert themselves-as men."
A cheer went up from everyone, including the lab men. Terry regarded Norma through slitted eyes, inhaling the brazen hussy's cheap cologne with disgust as her glass was replenished with the potent elixir. Her roving gaze met Eric's and seemed to meld with an unspoken rapport as they condemned the girl and the speech with their eyes. Eric lifted himself from the wall he had been leaning against and crossed the room to squeeze down on the couch beside Terry. He could not help but notice his sexy neighbor's low-cut dress, a clinging velvet model that hugged her slim exotic thighs like an extra skin. He rebuked himself for thanking the circumstances that kept Jake away from home so much.
"Eric, love, I think you're having a bit of fun for a change, if it's not a mirage," Terry said coyly, her voice throaty and suggestive, a flirting glint in her eyes.
"Can't complain," Eric countered with unwonted boldness. "But who's that half-naked floozy, the racy waitress your pal Mauley's been praising? Damned if I'd mind getting her into the sack myself! She's beautiful. And so are you, if you don't mind my saying so-no kidding!"
"Well, will wonders never cease?" Terry purred as she stretched lazily to show off her lithe form to its best advantage. "Now what would your sweet little wife say if she heard you carrying on like this?"
"Nothing, not a damned thing! Julie's too shallow to know about these matters. But you ... I'd bet an afternoon's pay that you're different." Eric downed the remainder of his drink to climax as well as excuse the rashness of his blunt pronouncement.
"You'll never know at the rate you've been going," Terry taunted while she looked cursorily about the room, satisfying herself that no one was cognizant of what was happening between them. Only Betty Lorimer had been watching, but turned briskly away to endorse what seemed to her a promising intimacy in the making.
Eric leaned closer to Terry and, taking her off guard, planted a wet, passionate kiss on her mouth. After the initial shock, that her neighbor's abnormally pure husband would venture such an act, Terry returned his kiss, pressing her luxurious figure against him with an urgency and boldness that would surely frighten him back to his stupid bank books and the safety of his servile wife. She thought how fun it might be to tempt this simpering eunuch of a man to try something with her. After all, he had had three or more drinks already-enough, she decided, to spark his manhood-if he had any-and make him forget himself just long enough to make a play for her.
Seeming to sense her sudden availability, he pressed forward to kiss her again, this time allowing his free hand to rove tentatively along her slim shoulders and down daringly close to the exposed upper expanse of her full, rounded breasts. A chill and pleasant warmth passed through her, and she squirmed her beautifully sculptured buttocks deeper into the cushion and tighter against his slim male hip. Her panties were filling with the wetness of arousal, and she squeezed her thighs together in a vain attempt to check the tingling sensation beginning to grow there. She was on precarious ground, and knew it, but felt certain that she could tackle just about anything the poor idiot might do.
"Hey, why don't we go somewhere, anywhere, out of the living room?" Eric huskily proposed. Terry felt the hardness of his penis drilling into her thigh, a sure sign that her game was working.
"Of course, Eric. Why don't we talk in the bedroom?" She canted her head down, smirking to herself and reveling in her power to taunt and control him, to push the game to its limit, a hairbreadth this side of danger, and prove beyond doubt her mastery in manipulating him at will.
"That's a splendid idea," Eric decided, taking her hand and resolutely clearing a path for them as they cut through the milling confusion of guests in the hallway and crossing in front of them from room to room. She was positive that at any second he would turn sheepishly and say, "Okay, okay, you've bluffed me out," so she followed him with an attitude of docility as she planned new strategy to further her superiority to him. "Would you like to pick up a couple of those potent drinks on the way?" Eric asked, detouring into the kitchen without waiting for her approval.
"Sure, go ahead, if you need courage ... I'm fine myself," Terry deliberately teased. She sidled up to him, her arms folded into her chest in an imitation of sweetness, while with the toe of her shoe she sawed suggestively at Eric's calf.
"You're a hot bitch, aren't you, neighbor dear? But maybe it's all fake-you know, the emancipated female out to get her share of the goodies too. Right?"
"Maybe ... maybe you're right ... But how would you know, one way or the other?" she pressured, more than ever enjoying his discomfort and the fact that he stood with his back to the others to shield the ever-lengthening protrusion in his trou-ser crotch.
"Try me," Eric braved. Then, taking her hand more possessively than before, he practically jerked her off her feet to lead her again into the crowded corridor.
The poor chump is actually going to take me in there, Terry thought with amusement, but watch him run like a scared rabbit when I come on a little.. . Only the ebb and flow of a quivering pulse of anticipation, a feeling not part of the game, troubled her as Eric pulled her into the bedroom. Her feeling of power lessened when he closed and locked the door, stripping off his jacket as he adjusted the little ceramic lamps on the night stands, on each side of the head of the bed, to candle-brightness. Then, he wordlessly crushed her to him, almost painfully grinding his mouth on hers, thrusting his tongue into her and greedily sucking at hers. Terry shuddered and chilled from the stimulation that being involved in something forbidden gives, despite her fondness and the ironic kind of loyalty she felt for Julie. She was still not threatened and believed that she was capable any time of putting this hot-breathed half boy in his proper place. She sighed as though unmoved and at the end of tolerating his increasingly reckless caresses. She walked easily to the bed, her casuality designed to insult him with indifference. But Eric misunderstood and immediately stretched out beside her. Her act had been to him one of consent, a shameless invitation to touch and fondle her as much as he liked. He was raging inside, his shaft beating with every breath, his balls nestling like spongy rocks ready to erupt their load.
Terry gasped at the change coming over her as he worked his trembling eager hand up under her plushy dress and gently petted her secret inner thighs. He kissed her again and dropped his mouth to nuzzle in the deep valley between her high white breasts. She felt tiny delicious contractions in the tiny bud of her clitoris and began gradually to give way to the wild incoherent emotions shooting relentlessly through her yearning body. Eric's agitation was building higher and hotter, urging him to rotate and mash his seething loins cruelly against hers, while his shaking hands tore at the soft material covering her full ripe breasts. Freeing them, he shoved himself fully upon her and nibbled and bit her hard deep-brown nipples until the sleekly built girl groaned and writhed, her own hands circling one tit at a time to form a taut mound to cram into Eric's hungry mouth. Sucking and biting at her, he ripped open his trousers and kicked them free. Then he placed his hand under her undulating back, lifting her an inch or so as he slipped her already-wrinkled velour dress up to the inhibiting mounds he had just stopped sucking.
"God, are you really going to? Really-" she moaned choking on the thickness of her own hurricane of ecstatic feeling. To show her he was, he lifted her dress over her head and, still kneading her heaving melons, dragged her sheer, silken panties down over her hips to her knees. His body lurched ahead, his hairy male body covering her from head to toe, and then he wedged his own knees inside her knees and forced them widely apart. With an inhuman sound, she kicked her legs back over her head and with one hand searched for his jutting penis. Finding it, she squirmed back and forth lasciviously, bending back her legs impossibly to accommodate the rigid pole about to fuck into her and stretch her warm pulsation cuntal passage beyond all repair.
God almighty, it was a monster! And to think that to her Eric had seemed such a helpless little boy.
He sensed that there was not one iota of resistance left in her and pushed the thick rubbery head of his cock against the sensitive lips of her moist, open pussy. She was pinned to the mattress under his weight. The scalding hot throb in her stomach creamed for release from its agonies. Nothing mattered now but to swallow the entire measure of his penis into her.
"Oh please," she moaned, her voice rising to a shriek, "fuck me, fuck me with it! Hurry!"
Eric's mouth twisted into a crazy smile as he ground his pelvis up to her buttocks and with one merciless lunge parted the pubic hair broke into her desire-slickened cunt. Inch by inch, he buried himself deeper and deeper into her snuggly clasping vaginal cavity, until at last she had accepted all of his hard, throbbing male organ up to the hilt. Low hums of pleasurable servile abandon came in torrents from deep in her throat, her face contorted with lust, mouth working, neck straining, nostrils flared, a light sweat breaking out on her forehead below her now disheveled hair. The wet, sucking sound of their union joined in harmony with the smack of her sperm-filled balls against her naked anus.
He slaved above her, occasionally changing his rhythm from short fast penetrations to long smooth strokes that brought his huge cock almost all the way out of her clasping vagina on the backstroke and then in again until she could feel his pelvic bone crunching on hers. He grinned again, thinking to himself of the beautiful humiliation she would feel as he slipped his hand under her smooth satiny ass and worked a finger back and forth across her defensively puckered anus. It was delicate and warm, and he could feel it bucking away from his touch as she drilled wildly up against his loins. His passion out of control, he jammed into the tender rubbery flesh of her hair-lined pussy with two fingers.
"God, nooooooooo!" she groaned, her hips involuntarily leaping upwards to escape the painful intrusion into her rectum, yet serving only to drive Eric's gigantic weapon further into her than before. She winced when the blood-inflated glans collided savagely against her cervix, threatening to plow her womb and into her intestines.
Then he plunged his fingers deeper, spreading them to widen even more the no longer virginal nether throat of her straining rectum. Slowly her whimpering protestations subsided and changed gradually to cries of excitement as her anus became accustomed to the strange invasion. She was impaled like a slave between his thick prick slamming into her ravaged vagina and his two fingers worming salaciously into her obscenely stretched anal passage.
His neighbors gorgeous face was unrecognizable, a mask of feature-contorting animal joy. He felt satisfaction in taking her thus, off her high horse, while he fed her the hardened cock she had seemed to be dying for since he had known her. He quickened his strokes, burning and throbbing and deep, as she thrashed beneath him like a rutting dog. She was close now-he could feel it coursing deep in her belly and along the bottoms of her up-thrust thighs. Her breasts were rosy and firm under his jerking weight, the erect nipples burrowing like hard buttons into his chest.
"Oh Christ! Oh God! I'm making it! I'm cumming, cummmmmming! Ooooooh, ooooooh!" She shivered and began to flail uncontrollably under him, her skewered cunt palpitating and opening like a tiny fish mouth around his pummeling cock. He banged harder and faster, smashing between her flailing legs like an ape gone berserk. His own orgasm had arrived like a deluge of unexpected lava trying to escape all at once through the small aperture at the tip of his swelling cock. He arched his back and delivered one hard, desperate thrust to empty his splashing stream of milky white seminal fluid far up into her flat rolling belly. Their juices mixed inside in a pool of sticky, slippery completion.
"Beautiful, beautiful!" Terry said, her words garbled and indistinguishable with panting. Her legs had fallen limp on either side of his still heaving body. She was exhausted and fulfilled as she had never been before. Then, remembering where she was and that it was her friend Julie's husband who was lying on her, his fingers still trapped in her rectum, she tapped him on the shoulder and said, "I think it's about time we got out of her and joined the others, don't you?"
"I guess I'd better disengage myself first-unless you're up to trotting in there all plugged up." Eric straightened up on his knees, still bending his upper torso over her while he withdrew his fingers from her rectum with a vulgar hissing sound. Then, he pulled his deflating member slowly out of Terry's gaping wet pussy with a whooshing sound, and a cool rush of air filled her where he had worked them both to thrilling climax a moment before.
"If this always happens when you have a party, Eric, I suggest you have them all the time," she said while preparing herself to meet the host of people beyond the door.
"Has it ever occurred to you that we don't have to have an excuse to do this? ... Julie doesn't know I know, but she's got some silly job afternoons. Dolores let it slip by accident. I could take lunch around two o'clock and...."
"And you'd sneak home for a quickie with old Terry, is that it? Well, you can't tell, baby, maybe I'll get horny again ... But I doubt it, not after this, not for awhile anyway."
Satisfied that they had straightened their clothes and generally corrected their appearances to allay suspicion, they left the bedroom and tried to blend inconspicuously into the party again. They had no trouble. The combo was playing something loud and jazzy, drowning out all but the most stentorian voices, and by now the punch was flowing freely. Julie espied Terry and hurried over to her.
"Thank heavens, here you are! I've been sending out S.O.S. signals, hoping you'd hear and come help me meet the emergencies. The first thing," Julie sighed, "we're running low on punch. Not that I think they need more! God, you should see them, undressing in front of the jazz group peering down dresses, talking as though filthy language were in vogue. What shall I do?"
"Be gracious, honey. It's a party, isn't it? Let them get their jollies," Terry winked. "As for the booze, send out for more-and I'll try to think up some nifty lie to explain stealing the last two bottles of Jake's reserve, the cache he thinks I don't know anything about. See you in a flash."
Julie steeled herself and retreated to the bedroom to telephone the liquor store, checking the wad of currency in her bra with a reassuring pat. When she burst into the bedroom and flicked on the light, she jumped in fright at the sight of Betty Lorimer and the cowboy, still wearing his hand-tooled boots, both naked and slamming obscenely against each other.
"Oh! Excuse me-it's a mistake! ... I wanted to use the telephone, to call ... for more liquor ... to ... Oh forgive me!" Julie pleaded, tears brimming in her eyes.
"Shit, lady, don't worry a bit," the cowboy said without missing a single stroke of his spearing into Betty her neighbor's willing chasm. "We're good friends-maybe more-and throwing a good fuck into your nice neighbor here's the best way in the world to introduce us."
Julie started to say something else but decided not to when she saw the muscular man launch a new storm of punishing humps into the grunting, twisting Betty.
Julie was a few feet outside the door when she ran headlong into Lester Mauley. He seemed soberer, more his handsome, deceitful self, although she saw that his lips were half-mooned in an otherworldly smile, unusual even for him. He seemed to be inflamed by the activity, even drugged.
"Dear, you scrumptious love, where's this super-girl you've told me about? Find her for meat once!" Despite Mauley's feigned imperiousness, Julie noticed a tone of wrought-up sincerity in his voice.
"Golly, Les, I've been too busy in the kitchen to keep track of her-or anybody. But just as soon as I arrange to have the liquor supply replenished, I'll find her and introduce you two. By the way, have you seen Eric, my husband?"
Before Mauley could answer, Eric approached them, his manner of walking certain proof that he was slightly more than squiffy-in fact, that he was on the verge of being dead drunk. Julie's heart fell when she realized that he was in no condition to drive to the store for more liquor.
"Whass matter, honey?" Eric managed to slur through thick lips, the very effort of speaking causing him to momentarily lose his balance. "We all wanna 'nother drink ... and here you are, juss talkin'. . . "
Coming to the rescue for the second time that evening, Mauley broke in with a suggestion: "By Jesus, I'm thirsty too! So why don't I send off one of my staff to buy more of the ingredients that go into Julie's wonderful punch?"
"Oh thank you, Les!" Julie blurted, her eyes darting to Eric to determine if he had caught her familiar use of Mauley's first name. But Eric was too preoccupied with maintaining his balance to perceive any familiarity between his wife and Lester Mauley.
"Okay, I'll be in the kitchen, then-if you find someone to go," Julie said.
"Hmmmmm ... now where's that damned cowboy?" Mauley wondered aloud as he moved off to disappear among the others.
Moments later, the cowboy slapped Julie on the buttocks with a resounding thwack as she bent over the kitchen sink, rinsing cocktail glasses.
"Boss-man says I'm supposed to drive you to the store for more booze ... Ready?" Although she knew he was drunk, was always drunk, she marveled at the clarity of his voice, the steadiness of his step, as he escorted her down the stairs to the front door. As they were exiting, Julie blanched at the sight of Eric stumbling drunkenly up the stairs. His fly was partially open, his hair tousled, and he looked such a wreck, lurching and weaving as he climbed, that she was instantly overcome with compassion.
"Are you okay, Eric?" Julie inquired tenderly.
"You better believe it, kiddo," the intoxicated man mumbled, straightening up to affirm the statement.
"Oh fine, but why don't you go up and find Terry ... just to keep her company? We'll be home in a few minutes-we're going to buy more liquor ... for all you Hemingway-type guzzlers. See you, darling," Julie waved.
Racing up the block in the cowboy's low-slung Jaguar, Julie sighed relief and turned to address the tall man at the wheel. "It might have been easier to give you directions and avoid all the hell I'll get from my husband ... I've never seen him this drunk before."
"Hell, I wouldn't worry about it, lady. He's not as drunk as he is tired. I'd be the same way, after that bout he had with that long-legged gal in the sexy dress ... Shit-"
"What 'gal' are you talking about?" Julie asked menacingly, the ominous timbre of her voice astonishing her as much as her normally nervy companion. The man did not reply and instead tromped down on the accelerator, causing the powerful car to sink lower, then jump ahead with an awesome boost of energy that threw Julie back into her leather seat. Despite her consternation, the beautiful drone of the supercharged engine was music to her ears.
"You know, that tall broad, your foxy neighbor, the one who was bull-shittin' with your old man in the living room, before they disappeared into thin air." He was silent again, intent as he eased the car into a tire-squealing drift around the corner that Julie had indicated that they should take. In perfect control again, he continued: "You mean to say you're pissed because your safe little hubby gets a little on the side? ... Shit, I'd screw the bitch myself, but I'm a lot more interested in that young piece with the fantastic boobs ... What's her name?"
"Do you mean Dolores?" Julie said barely audibly.
"Yeah! Can you fix me up?"
"I doubt it. I doubt-I doubt ... everything."
They drove on without speaking, their mutual taciturnity like a pact to loathe and feel disgust for each other.
* * *
Having swilled off more of the sex-inciting punch, the guests were grouping in little islands to seriously discuss and, in some instances, explore one another's physical assets. Julie had located and graciously introduced Dolores to Mauley, who was typically charming and confident as he guided the voluptuous girl through the swarm of excited guests toward a relatively un-peopled niche next to the living room window beside the coffee table and a few steps from the bookcase, the one place in the room where they might find a modicum of privacy.
"Before I say anything, let me at least say I recognize your rare sort of sweetness, that you seem a muse and ... an angel at the same time.
You can't imagine how grateful I am to Julie for introducing us." Breathing laboriously, he fixed his eyes ravenously on Dolores' throat, a palm's-length above the ballooning bulge of her pallorous breasts.
"I-I'm glad," she said blushingly. The situation was embarrassing her, taking its toll on her composure. Her full white chest was rising, threatening to burst into view and endorse her discomfiture, the womanhood she had tried so hard to ignore and keep secret. "Julie ... my friend ... she's tried to help me face things ... And-and she said you'd teach me to help people and-"
"And exploit your exquisite physical attributes," Mauley finished. "I think you're quite able to help, except-" he paused, "-except for what experience warns me must be a crippling ignorance on our part towards the truth and honesty among people." He inhaled slowly, to dramatize his point, and sipped slowly and thoughtfully on his drink, an almost defeated look on his face.
Unable to endure his implication, Dolores snatched up his glass and downed a portion of his potent cocktail in great gulps, the syrupy but biting liquid making her gag and cough. Bravely, though, she tilted up the glass again, this time emptying its contents. A lovely glow came over her, centering mostly in her stomach but extending up along her ribs to her massive breasts. He watched with delight as her expression softened, sweetening to child-likeness as though a benevolent spirit had entered her and touched her soul with magic. Nor did she object when he slipped his arm around her shoulder, drawing her up to him until her left breast was flattened against the side of his chest. She blushed slightly when, squirming her buttocks deliciously to find a more comfortable position, the edge of the couch cushion brushed electrically against the soft folds of her vulvae, sending a sudden charge of warm pleasure up her vaginal passage and into the pit of her stomach.
"Say, would you be kind enough to get me a drink? I think I'd like to try a whole one by myself." Mauley rose, starting for the kitchen, but was stopped in route by a short fat man who was obviously a treasured friend. They chatted a moment, then left for another part of the house without looking back. Dolores was crestfallen and in the process of thinking of an excuse to leave the party, when a man's voice cut into her thoughts.
"Here, little lady, cheer up and drink this," the cowboy said, handing her a fresh water tumbler filled almost to overflowing with the green-tinted punch. "It's more practical, I always say, to find the biggest damned glass in the house and save yourself a lot of runnin' back and forth to the source. Now, about old Mauley, you shouldn't let that bugger get under your skin. I was watchin' you from across the room." Seating himself where Mauley had been, the rugged-looking man thrust forward his own tall glass in the manner of a toast. "What do you say we drink to everlasting friendship? Hell, that's about as imbecilic as most toasts."
Dolores found herself liking this peculiarly handsome stranger, the carefree way he spoke and tossed off his drink as naturally as though it were plain water. Yet, she also sensed an in-t e ll i g e n t, highly emotional quality in his youthful but deeply lined face.
"May I ask what you do for a living?" she ventured, immediately sorry for asking what would almost certainly seem to him an absurd question.
"Well, yes, you may. I make most of my money," he began in a tone bordering on seriousness, "as a Communist infiltrator on American college campuses. And I sell dope and birth control pills to teenagers on street corners, in front of schools. I'm a private detective, a legal secretary, and own a dating service for nuns, the latter which I operate only when I'm not bewildering hostile literary critics with immortal poems I write on the way to my thriving hairnet factory in South Africa ... Now, as for my assets, I have sufficient solvency to loan Hugh Hefner-"
"Oh please stop-this instant!" Dolores howled, tears of laughter streaking her cheeks with mascara. Burying her face in his muscular shoulder to stifle her giggles, she reached up to muffle his mouth with her hand.
After their laughter had abated and neither of them had strength left for more than an occasional titter, they permitted their eyes to meet and suggest more than mere levity. The exotic, deceptively sweet cocktails, combined with her new-found friend's easygoing style and the increasingly erotic character of the party around her, disposed the young girl to an attitude of all-out adventure. Laughing anew, she cuddled up to his muscular shoulder and pointed to the members of the combo who had stripped to the waist and were playing individually here and there about the room. Several attractive women were dancing by themselves, swaying and rocking to the primitive beat of the music.
Turning to face her companion, Dolores screwed her face into an accusatory glower, and asked, "Hey! what's your name? How do I know you're not really a Communist?"
"My name is Bill ... plain Bill," he said, wrestling her in for a hug to reward his simple, honest answer. She melted closer, her spectacular chest pressing firmly into his. Then he kissed her lingeringly on the mouth and dropped one hand to rest hotly on her knee.
She's a hot little bitch, he thought, moving his hand carefully up her thigh to the hem on her skirt. Kissing her neck, he fully relaxed the arm around her shoulders and draped his hand on the upper swell of her breast. The prospect of a sure score emboldened him as he began to lightly massage the top of her breast with his fingertips ... She was not resisting. Instead, she seemed to regard his familiarity with her an almost casual thing, an understanding between them, and drank her over-size cocktail even as his hand strayed down to fully cup her luxuriant chest.
Excusing himself with a promise to return right away, he rose and made his way through the others to find Terry. She was in the dimly-lighted dining area adjacent to the kitchen, doing the Frug with a skinny, balding man who wore only a pair of black boxer shorts splotched with white flowers. Her eyes were glazed, faraway, and she threw forward her hips as if aiming at the skinny man's crotch.
"Hey, hot pants, I'd like to chat a second," Bill the cowboy broke in.
"Sure, what's on your mind-as if I didn't know. But first," Terry said as she finally turned to face him, "I'd like to introduce you to Fred Hillary. This virile tiger of a man works with Eric and says he wants to 'throw the meat' to me, a phrase he seems to have picked up in high school. Right, Fred?" Fred agreed with a supercilious drunken grin and advanced on Terry, a pencil-like protrusion tenting his flamboyant shorts.
"Hang on a minute there, horse, I'd like to see the lady alone before your unprecedented sexiness bowls her off her feet." Dragging her by the arm to the nearest corner, he grinned and continued: "Christ, you that hard up? ... But listen, I'm going to fuck that sweet young gal with the mountainous tits, and I'm thinkin' this might be the best place right here. So, would you mind takin' your big bull and screwin' where that poor little innocent gal can't witness such goings-on?"
"What's in it for me?" Terry asked only half-teasingly.
"Man, you've already fucked Julie's husband to a frazzle, and now you've got little flower-drawers here all hot to trot. Shit, girl, save something for the other broads."
Terry smiled wickedly to herself as the broad-shouldered cowboy passed out of the room and into the kitchen, where he delayed long enough to find two passably clean glasses and fill them from the punch bowl.
Dolores was sitting where he had left her, only now her gestures and overall appearance indicated that she was even drunker and less than ever in control of herself. He took her hand and led her rather unsteadily to the kitchen and back into the shadowy dining area. There, he gently urged her to sit with him on the thickly-carpeted floor, handing her the fresh cocktails to free his hands and remove his jacket. She studied his face admiringly, cherishing his every move and wondering what such a clever, handsomely built man, a poet he had said, could find of value in her. She must be in love, she decided, because no other man, real or imaginary, had so warmed and wakened her sensually ... Her breasts pulsed in time with her heart beat, the nipples unbearably hard and itching to be touched.
He kissed her again, almost too tenderly to fill her craving for his mouth, and then ... he kissed her again, harder ... and again and again, each contact more demanding and forcing her toward the floor. When they were stretched full-length beside each other, he nipped her ear and renewed his seductive explorations of her billowy heaving bosom. She stiffened reflexively as he seized one of the tingling pink nipples between his thumb and forefinger, rolling and pinching it to shoot arrows of pleasure and pain along her quivering nerves. She was vaguely astonished by what he was doing, but lay passively savoring the titillating fondling of her sensitive breasts. His hand moved down to her thigh again, his fingers lightly tracing the silky inner flesh as they worked up beyond the top of her stocking to within an inch or so of her moistening cuntal opening.
"Relax, open your legs a little," the cowboy breathed softly into her ear. His hand strayed higher as he uttered the words.
"I can't ... I shouldn't," she moaned even as she felt her thighs yielding to make herself more vulnerable. He ran his middle finger over the lips of her tightly closed vaginal slit and felt the sticky wetness of her nylon panties. With his other hand he was working steadily at the buttons on the front of her blouse, opening them one by one, kissing each new exposure of her cleavage and at the same time cautiously slipping her bra straps off her shoulders. Protesting, she strained closer to him, her mind losing the battle with her body. She could feel the hardness of his penis digging into her outer thigh as his hips rocked, frightening but exciting her to delirious soarings of sexual desire.
"Oh, Bill, I love you, I love you!"
The cowboy responded by ripping open her blouse to the waist and jerking off her bra to fully reveal the full white spheres that had been driving him mad all evening. With a base animal groan he leaned over her and began to suck and bite voraciously at the stiff, light brown nipples. When she tried vainly to escape the sudden invasion of her purity, he wormed a hand under her buttocks and pulled at the moistened crotch of her panties until they gave.
"Oh please no! ... I love you ... Not this way!" she cried. Shifting his weight on her to pin her flat, he parted the fine pubic hairs lining her pussy and slid one finger into the slippery pink passage. Then, clamping his mouth on hers, he rolled the struggling girl on her side and freed her partially from the remaining shreds of her blouse and bra. Rolling her over again on her other side, he stripped away the last of her upper garments and yanked her flimsy skirt down over her thighs and ankles and finally free of her feet. She gasped and whimpered for mercy when his finger inched deeper into her helpless cunt, slowly and expertly insinuating into her in an effort to loosen her in preparation for the entrance of his giant organ. She could not escape and lay back to experience her fear and sense of debasement change to divine rapture. Her hands were tangled in his long brown hair, pulling his head greedily to her huge breasts.
Dolores began an involuntary swaying and humping motion to match that of the cowboy's as he grated his cock against her hot pubic hair, removing his hand to clutch her hip and pace her gyrating rhythm to suit himself. His thick, lust-hardened cock rubbed teasingly over her clitoris, the scarlet head grinding further and further into the lubricated flanges until it began to spread the still-resisting band of her almost virginal young pussy. Nothing in the world had seemed so good, so gloriously consuming, and she wished suddenly that he would end her crazy agony of longing and fill her lewdly tingling vagina for good. Then there was a great stretching feeling in her loins as though the passion-puffed lips of her cunt were being pulled asunder, and she felt the long swollen trunk of his prick slither into her soft interior like a searching snake. The heavy weight of his lower body crashed into her groin, imbedding him in her brutally, sending unwanted jolts of exquisite sensuality through her entire being. She began to undulate her body under him, levering herself up on her elbows to meet his lunges and bury the beautiful hose into her as far as possible.
"Oh more, more!" she screamed, urging him to piston into her faster and harder. He gritted his teeth and fucked in and out with wild, driving thrusts that bowed his body grotesquely at the peak of the in-stroke.
He clutched at the cheeks of her pillowy, unresisting ass with inhuman strength, his fingernails clawing into her, hurting her, as she tried futilely to keep up with his furious, mindless fucking.
Dolores did not sense the presence of the others in the room, nor even the brightness of the overhead light Terry had switched on when she was certain that the impassioned young woman was beyond awareness of any change around her. The half dozen guests there in the doorway and seated next to the wildly fucking couple were too engrossed in viewing the stimulating performance to talk or create any distracting disturbance. One couple, neighbors of Terry's, was kneeling within a foot of Dolores' head, their eyes glued to the pair's heated writhing as though spellbound. Her arms around the waists of two stark naked men, Terry leaned back on the wall just to the right of the entrance, her gaze fixed intently on Dolores' blind, shut eyes. Mauley stood nearby, his cock out, jerking off like a depraved lunatic as his own eyes took in the main show and tried simultaneously to absorb the expressions of everyone else in the room.
Still unaware of the audience, Dolores twitched and bucked uncontrollably as she muttered encouragement to her lover and relished the pumping, punishing instrument's ramming against her cervix. The cowboy's lust was approaching its peak, tiny devils of fire seething in his pendulous swinging balls.
And then it happened-the spastic last heaves of completion that drove him into her deeper than ever, his long lance goring her, spewing his hot cum into her clasping cunt in great lava-like gushes.
"Nooooo! Nooooo, pleeease! Wait, darling, wait for me too!" she sobbed in pitiful frustration. But it was useless. She squeezed her hips up against a waning penis, the cock that had fucked her to a mind-shattering crest and then betrayed her by deflating within seconds of her own cumming. She pounded desperately with her fists on Bill's perspiring back, but he rolled off her unfulfilled body with a sigh of exhaustion to lie beside her.
She was crazier than ever with desire, the end so near and yet so far. She kicked her legs wide out in the air, her own fingers ineffectually manipulating the throbbing open slit between her thighs. She dug into herself, trying to reach the depths where a moment before the now-vanquished prick had probed.
Then, out of nowhere, strong hands seized her wrists and pulled back her arms as other hands pried her thighs wider apart. She felt a ravenous sucking mouth on one breast, a clammy piggish hand clamped on the other. She gasped as the combined assault of hands and mouth on her body began slowly to register in her mind. Timidly, she opened her eyes and took in what was happening.
Cocks, balls, mouths, hands, everywhere, all over her, squeezing and sucking! Her cowboy lover was halfway across the room, lying on his stomach, his head cradled in his arms, panting.
"Come on, baby, I'll finish what that big fake couldn't," the balding, skinny man slurred as he wormed his voyeur-hardened penis in her hungrily up-thrust cunt.
"Ram it to her, boy," Terry said, waving his black and white shorts like a "Go" flag at the start of a race.
"Yeah-yeah," Mauley murmured, stumbling up to aim his spurting cock at her face. Dolores licked her lips to taste all she could with her tongue of the lumpy foam that had landed there. One of the men had taken command of her chest and straddled her while he shoved his oozing penis obscenely between her solid creamy tits, his rough hands pressing them together to form a hot deep crevice. The anonymous man pinioning her arms to the floor released her only to wind his fingers in her hair and force her head to one side, plunging his un-circumcised cock into her mouth with unbridled force. The men, fully aware of their total conquest and mastery of the girl's mind and body, regarded the penetration of her mouth as an invitation to accelerate their communal use of her and intermingled in a symphony of feral abandonment.
Dolores screamed at the top of her lungs as orgasm after orgasm broke and flowed through her. Her legs were drawn back and locked around the neck of the skinny man, whose seed was spilling into her in hot torrid spurts. The man fucking into her mouth also exploded, filling her throat with the wet sticky liquid, expanding her cheeks to the bursting point as she gulped frantically in an effort not to lose a drop of the precious deposit. Thin streams ran from the corners of her mouth when he fell away from her, his limp cock slipping lifelessly from her still sucking mouth.
She placed her own hands over those of the man who was still holding together her enormous breasts, helping him tighten her supple orbs around his rock-hard penis still stabbing up and down within inches of her chin. His moment arrived with a violent lunge, the first shooting wad of his pungent sperm landing on her chin to dribble down onto her throat and be drawn back in strings that mingled with the rest of his load spilling between her tits. The brown aureoles of her nipples were slick with the diamond-bright substance.
She screwed her pelvis up against the lifeless member still in her cunt, then collapsed back on the floor as the cock slipped uselessly from her sperm drenched pussy, draughts of cool air rushing refreshingly into the unstoppered opening.
Dolores could not think or even bring herself to move. She stared at the ceiling, unaware of the others, her lips and hair smeared with the glutinous wetness of cum, her thighs still shining where two men had pumped themselves to climax. She felt lower than the most shameless whore, beyond repentance, uncaring.
Then she remembered Bill, the carefree poet, her lover ... Turning on her side, she canvassed the room, her dulled vision resting on him ... He lay as though in coma where she had last seen him, on his stomach, his superbly brawny form sprawling like a toppled statue.
"Bill,...." she called out weakly, expecting him to rise miraculously and erase all that had happened, the violations of her body, her nakedness, the sordid bliss she had felt as all those men obscenely fucked and manipulated her to crescendos of beautiful orgasm.
"He's out cold, baby, so don't trouble yourself," Terry's voice filtered in from somewhere in the room. Dolores looked to where the voice seemed to be coming from and saw the woman sitting nude with a man's head in her lap. Terry's chin was also glistening with still moist cum.
* * *
"Goodnight, Fred ... We'll see you soon, Betty," Julie said to her last departing guests. Eric was not able to share in the responsibility of bidding their guests goodbye. He was passed out on the bed in the guest room, still dressed and with his shoes on, snoring happily while he dreamed of his adulterous interlude with the hot-blooded friend of his wife.
Julie had not mentioned to him that she knew of his infidelity with their neighbor. How could she? As a matter-of-fact, she felt a little relieved and self-justified, her own unfaithfulness at the studio now seeming less criminal. Yet, it greatly perturbed her that her closest friend would seduce Eric (as must have been the case) behind her back. And worse yet was the fact that he had succumbed to Terry's appeal even though he rarely showed sexual interest in her, his own wife.
She climbed slowly back up the stairs and entered the kitchen. It was a shambles, empty bottles, broken glasses, trays littered with half-eaten sandwiches and cigarette butts, someone's forgotten suit coat and tie draped over the back of a chair ... And the crystal punch bowl in the center of the breakfast table, a crack in it running from the rim down to the center of the bottom, where a few pieces of lemon rind lay in a puddle of green liquid.
Her original intention had been to dive in and clean up the major portion of the mess, but she was overwhelmed by fatigue, the strain of the evening having taken its toll on her physically and emotionally. Anyway, Mauley had promised that her visit the next day would not require much of her. He hinted that most of his time would be occupied with "a new model," that the session would probably take less than an hour of Julie's time.
She found herself trying to imagine the new model, if indeed he had scheduled an interview with Dolores. The girl had left early, looking badly battered and with tear-stains on her cheeks. She had thanked Julie for the party and left with her arm around the cowboy's waist, the two of them weaving. His low sleek Jaguar was still parked where he had left it after the drive to the liquor store-across the street and two houses down from Dolores' ... Evidently the rumors she had heard about Dolores and the hard-drinking cowboy were true. But she had also heard that her young friend had conducted herself in an unbelievable fashion with several other guests, indulging in sex play with them that Julie knew would horrify Dolores had she been sober. Strangely enough, though, she thought as she undressed in the bathroom, she too had felt erotic urges all evening, and had wished that the party was another studio session ... and that she could participate in one of Mauley's thrilling studio settings there in the house, her role licensed as "art" and business. Yes, she decided, probably even the supra-moral Dolores had broken loose and enjoyed the sexual advances of other men.
Julie experienced a pang of guilt, feeling thankful that Eric was too drunk to move from the other bed, that she would have some time to herself to think before she dropped off to sleep.
CHAPTER 10
"Jesus Christ, kid, haven't you got anything to drink in this place? I've looked high and low while you've been lying there dreaming about your debut last night."
Dolores peered up at the naked man standing over her, his long limp codpiece dangling before her eyes. She was too sleep-drugged and hung over at first to be alarmed at the presence of a man in her bedroom. Then, as consciousness came to her, she recognized the cowboy who had fucked her the night before ... and a shudder coursed through her aching body.
"What are you doing here-how--? "
"How, hell, baby! You convinced us both we're in love ... Last night. You took my keys, remember? ... Look, I'll settle for a good belt of whatever you've got in the house-and I'll be on my way."
Dolores rolled away to escape the impatience in his eyes, sobbing miserably and not caring that the sheet had fallen from her back and full rounded buttocks. "How could you? ... How could worry about a drink ... after last night?" she managed to ask between heartbreaking wails of shame and disappointment.
"Look, I'll make you a deal," the cowboy offered. "You tell me where you've got the booze stashed ... and we'll sit down and talk about last night. I'd like nothing better. But by God, it's just because of last night that I need a stiff drink before we talk about it." He sat on the edge of the bed and gently stroked her back to demonstrate his sincerity. Finally, her sobs petering out to sniffles, she turned to him and spoke:
"There's ... some ... sherry ... in the cabinet ... over the stove." Then, after a moment's pause, she added, "I think I'd like some ... to calm me."
Returning from the kitchen with a nearly empty bottle, he sat again and poured a small portion into a juice glass, then handed it to her with a broad smile.
"I-I thought there was more ... The bottle was almost full."
"Well, now don't you fret yourself, honey. I had a taste in the kitchen. About last night,. . . " he said with a sweeping gesture that was meant to include the surrounding neighborhood. "I'd just try to forget the whole damned thing."
"But-but you said you loved me!" she wailed miserably.
"Sure, sure I love you. And you're one helluva good lay, too." She flinched and buried her face in the pillow as the gross, humiliating words sank-into her mind. Vivid fragments of her role in the dining room incident flashed back to her, making her half sick with converging feelings of guilt and remorse. Suddenly, though, those feelings were replaced with savage point-blank anger, and she sat up rigidly in bed, her huge lush breasts bursting into view as she pivoted on her naked buttocks to stare hatefully at him.
"Well," she stormed, "Wasn't that what you wanted-a good lay? Wasn't it? And wasn't I? Oh, but that's right-you were too drunk to know. Maybe you'd better ask the others who fucked me silly while you were passed out.. . They know, they'll tell you!"
"She spat out the words clearly and distinctly, her voice shaking with rage only toward the last, as fierce tears of indignation filled her eyes.
"Okay, lover, you taught me," she shouted, her voice breaking, "and now I'm ready for anything!"
Stunned by her outburst, the cowboy started to speak but was interrupted. She had risen to her knees and threw away the sheet from her dense "v" of pubic hair, thrusting her fleshy hips at him with obscene defiance.
"What's the matter?" she howled. "Don't you want to SCREW me? Or shall I find someone downtown-or maybe at the studio?"
"You crazy little bitch, you think because you got fucked by a few cocks last night, you're all whore now ... Fuck you, I'm fond of you, sure, but you're too damned stupid to know what love is! I'll see you," he waved, rising to go, "-and thanks for the sherry...."
"No, don't go ... I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she called out as he slammed the front door. "I love you! ... I really do!"
A moment later she heard the snarling whine of the Jaguar pacing through gear changes as it tore up the street, the sound growing dimmer and dimmer as though symbolizing her diminishing hope for a new life.
"But his keys ... I have his keys," she cried. She flew out of bed and raced to the closet in the hall, withdrawing the coat she had worn to the party. Digging frantically in the pockets, she sighed with a mixture of relief and befuddlement when her fingers closed on the gold chain laden with an assortment of keys.
"Then I can find him at Mr. Mauley's studio, this afternoon?" Dolores asked, trying to camouflage her eagerness as she jotted down the address Julie gave her from the other end of the line. "I'd be over to help clean up, but he'll probably need his keys, although I can't imagine how he ever got home ... last night ... without them. Can you?"
"No, I can't," Julie agreed. "How do you feel this morning."
"Fine, just fine!"
"I wish I could say the same for Eric," Julie said. "He was awfully confused this morning ... Barely made it to work."
"Yes, I suppose everybody got a little drunk. Even me."
"Well," Julie consoled, "I'd have joined you, but I couldn't break away from my hostess duties long enough to get involved in anything. Norma-you know, the girl who went topless-was helping me serve, but it seems she got sidetracked with Eric's boss and forgot herself."
"A lot of us did," Dolores said softly. "Anyway, thanks again for the address and the party. I'll try to come over tomorrow."
"You mean you're not going to stay for your interview with Les? I'll see you there, won't I?"
Dolores was silent as she struggled futilely to puzzle together the meaning of Julie's question. Had she committed herself to Mauley as well as made a fool of herself with the cowboy and the other men?
"It depends," Dolores answered cryptically. "I've got to hurry. Goodbye."
Julie stared quizzically into the buzzing telephone receiver, the curtness of the girl's leave-taking like a slap in the face.
Dolores rubbed herself briskly with the thick towel after her shower, patting powder under her arms and inside her thighs. Her body glowed with a peachy tint from the hard hot spray she had trained on herself to cleanse away whatever remained from last night's orgy. Stepping in front of the mirror, she sucked in her breath at the sight of the welts and blue-red discolorations on her breasts and marking the otherwise faultless skin just above her downy hillock parted with the sensitive red slit of her vagina. Her breasts were sore, not as they usually were from the sheer sag of their weight, but deeper in, where the muscles had been torn by the hands of men she had never seen previous to the encounter in the dining room. And there was a bruise between them that started above her navel and extended up to her collarbone.
She thought again of Bill's tenderness and the flurry of poignant kisses he had lavished on her the evening before, before lust had dazed and inflamed them both. Despite his crass behavior that morning, she was certain that he was just as lonely and starved for affection as she, even though at this point he was not inclined to admit it.. . But she could never excuse the cruelty Terry had shown in inviting the others to witness her lovemaking with the cowboy. Nor could she ever forgive the outrageous rape of her newly-aroused body by the three strange men, much less the fact that she had lost control and actually contributed wantonly to her own debasement.
She dressed with extra care, hoping wistfully that her dress was chic and would appeal to Bill's taste.
CHAPTER ll
Dolores entered the waiting room to Mauley's studio a little after one o'clock. Norma had shown her in very graciously and had made no reference to the party. She had assured the nervous girl that Bill was inside, "working" on a short sequence with one of the other models, and that he would be out as soon as possible.
Just as Dolores was settling back into the opulently upholstered black leather chair, preparing herself to wait as long as she must for the appearance of her new lover, the door opened and Mauley sauntered in.
"So, you made up your mind to come after all?" he chuckled, seating himself on the broad arm of her chair. His eyes bubbled like cold green stars as he straightened his ascot and bestowed upon her his most winning expression of cheer.
"Actually, I'm here to see Bill ... to return his keys," she explained, her confidence flagging under the older man's intense examination of her plush young body. He seemed not to have heard her at all, and leered instead, remembering her delicious contortions as she endured the subjugating hands and cocks of the cowboy and the three other men on Julie's dining room floor.
"Why, of course you'll see Bill," he winked, "but first, my dear, let's finish the discussion we started last evening. I'm terribly sorry we were interrupted, but that man, the short heavy gentleman you saw me wander off with at the party, is one of my most generous clients ... But I know you understand, now that you've met him on such intimate terms."
Dolores shivered as the full import of his words dawned on her. Surely the fat man had been one of the three who had debauched her while Lester Mauley watched and masturbated himself to orgasm.
"Are you really interested in helping others?" Mauley asked, resting his hand on her shoulder with a show of indifference. "Julie told me you've been active in social work, so my question is probably academic. However," he continued, "I can't take chances in my business. I've got to be certain that my employees are willing. . . " He began to knead her shoulder, the pressure of his fingers increasing as he leaned the weight of his thigh against her dimpled, stockinged knee. She turned her head away, so that she would not have to look at his snickering face, knowing that his eyes were fastened to the swell of her large, taut breasts.
Shifting himself closer to her, suddenly he caught her head in his hand and crushed her face to his. She let out a pleading cry as he tilted back her head and crashed down his mouth on hers, his searing tongue forcing its way between her teeth to lick and stab into the recesses of the sweet wet cavern. With his other hand he clutched at her heaving bosom, mashing the resilient mounds with his palm and then clutching anew, pulling them one at a time as though to uproot them.
"Stop it, stop it, you filthy animal!" she shrieked. Then he jammed his forearm into her throat, pushing her solidly back into the chair and lowering his head to one up-thrust breast. He gnawed ferociously at the nipple, opening and closing his mouth on the shrinking pink tip under her bra and the worsted fabric of her dress. She went rigid beneath him, gathering all her strength, and jerked away, screaming as the pain of wrenching loose from his teeth sent currents of agony through her chest.
"You dumb fucking cunt!" he bellowed. "Do you think I don't know you, how hot you really are beneath that phony school-girl exterior? Come here, then," he said, pointing to an enormous mirror as he strode up to the wall facing the studio inside, "I'll show you something!"
She saw him press what was apparently a lever on the bottom section of the frame. "Are you willing to cooperate now?" he asked as the reflection in the mirror changed to a clear view of the interior of the studio. Dolores rose to her feet, sucking in her breath at the shocking exhibition she beheld.
Bill, the cowboy, her able-bodied inamorato, was positioned between her friend and neighbor Julie's legs, his stiff glistening rod sliding easily in and out of her friend's thrashing cunt. Julie was lying on her back, on the only table in the room, with her hands clasped behind her neck in an attitude of depraved surrender.
"This is a practice session," Mauley said, lighting a cigarette. "As you see, there are no cameras ... They're rehearsing, you might say, for one of my more private episodes."
Dolores said nothing and watched with incredulity as Bill skewered Julie more violently, pounding into her unmercifully with his inflated cock. They were out of their minds, fucking harder and faster as their greed for each other drove them on. Julie seemed to be shouting lewd encouragement to him through clenched teeth. She was begging him to ram into her hot, wide-open hole and to fill her slim belly with cum. She was reveling in his riddling of her cunt and bucked up against him like a true whore to drain every last ounce of his energy with the sucking hair-lined flanges of her vagina. Dolores watched with abject fascination.
She was only remotely aware of Mauley's naked prick creeping up under her skirt behind her to nuzzle under the down-curve of her buttocks, working like a hungry mouse up into the crevice protected by the thin film of her panties. She reached behind her to discourage any further invasion of her buttocks and accidentally encountered his soft, hair covered balls with her fingertips. At the contact, an expression of lecherous elation came over his face, his penis jerking to greater hardness. He pushed his free hand roughly down the front of her dress and cupped one lush breast, delighting in the fact that the massive, bra-clad globe was too large to encompass with only one of his hands. Dolores' struggles to escape his hand and probing cock grew less as she once again became absorbed in watching the sound fucking Bill was giving Julie. They were in the beginning throes of orgasm and screwed against each other like beserk demons.
"He's fucking your best friend, isn't he?" Mauley said breathlessly. "And they're both liking it, aren't they?"
Dolores said nothing but continued to watch, stunned, still not wholly believing what she witnessed. The cowboy had lifted Julie's firm, creamy legs and spread them as wide apart as they would go. Then she saw her treacherous neighbor's mouth fly open, as though pantomiming a scream, and drive her groin up tightly against the cowboy's just as his hammering rod jerked forward and began spurting his sperm into the deep, passion loosened cunt. She was horror-stricken at the sight of Julie's trim white buttocks contracting uncontrollably, signaling her own orgiastic upheaval deep in her thrashing belly. Thick white liquid oozed from her quivering pussy as it mercilessly squeezed at the cowboy's prick; thin trails of the sticky white semen ran down into the exposed valley nestling Julie's tight puckered anus.
"Well now, don't you wish his hot cum were leaking out of your cunt, my dear? Now don't you?" Mauley asked, grinning lasciviously as he took advantage of the girl's shock and quickly unzipped the back of her dress without her knowing. "Incidentally, love, this is a two-way mirror, so neither of your trusted friends can see you ogling them."
"Oh God, God, God ... How could they?" Dolores moaned, biting her her lower lip as she observed Bill dismount Julie, gleaming strings of cum and cunt juice clinging to his deflating member when he pulled out and staggered back a few steps from his still obviously aroused partner.
"Now watch carefully, because the show isn't over, not by a long shot," Mauley informed. Still unaware of her partial nakedness, and now hardly caring that Mauley's erect penis had slipped under the elastic band of her panty-leg, Dolores saw the cowboy raise his hand in welcome to the two tall young Negroes who had walked into the room and stopped several yards away from the table where Julie lay waiting. The cowboy held a brief conference with them, then smiled and in lewd invitation extended his upturned hand toward the woman's open, pulsing pubic area.
Dolores gulped and felt a rush of heat within her when she saw the size of the shorter black's sex organ. Good Lord, she thought, it must be bigger than Bill's, and it's still soft! Almost immediately she forgot her hurt and anger over Bill's betrayal of her with Julie. She watched with increasing excitement as the two men approached Julie, the tall man's cock already hard and jutting out like a long black poker, while the other's thick, heavily-veined organ swung pendulously from side to side with his every step.
Fear registered on Julie's face when she realized that the depleted cowboy had deserted her to stand across the room and watch the two Negroes circle her menacingly, like big cats stalking helpless prey. Unexpectedly, the taller man seized her wrists and held them fast to the table while his accomplice wound his strong fingers in her hair, forcing her face into his wiry pubic thatch. He rubbed the blunt knob-end of his growing prick on her cheeks and along the edges of her mouth, his hips straining forward as he yanked ruthlessly at her closest breast to lever her body up to the edge of the shaking table. Then, arching his back, he penetrated her mouth with his monstrous black shaft, stretching her lips thin and bloating her cheeks even though the instrument was far from being as rock-hard as the other man's.
Dolores felt a blending of regret and relief when the man fucking himself to total stiffness in Julie's wide-stretched mouth, stopped ... for no apparent reason. Mesmerized, she pressed up to the glass to catch every nuance and detail of their movements. The black stud Julie had been sucking had pulled out his cock and was helping the other man bully their captive to her feet. Then the shorter Negro seated himself on the edge of the table, his now fully hard prick sticking up several inches above his navel like an oiled ebony cannon ready to fire. They worked with team-like efficiency and muscled the squirming Julie up onto the table, her thighs straddling the seated man's loins. The latter hoisted her hips higher and plunged his thick pulsing cock halfway into her, pushing the unresisting moist flesh of her pussy in rippling waves before its cruel searching head.
Julie's back tensed at the quick brutal impalement, then relaxed as she slithered down to wetly devour with her open cunt the last remaining section of the hardened rod of flesh. The man still standing moved in then and dug his fingers into Tier soft white hips, elevating her round buttocks to a level with his own bursting black organ. Holding it, he aimed the glistening instrument at the tightly clenched ring of her anus and leaned in until its mushrooming head touched her. He rubbed it in slow teasing circles around the opening and pressed steadily in, finally planting the first two-thirds of the bulbous tip inside her stinging rectum. When he had pierced a few inches into her, he slapped the bottom man on his thigh and mumbled something.
"That's the signal-that's the signal!" Mauley yelled. "It's the full sandwich treatment from here on in ... How do you like that, eh? Don't you think that would feel heavenly, you big-titted bitch, to have two hard dicks fucking into you at once?"
"I ... Oh, yes! ... I want it too, please!" Dolores begged as her lust-driven companion snaked up her dress over her full-mooned buttocks and stripped her moistened panties down to her ankles. She quickly kicked out of them and ground back against the blood-engorged cock wedging into the upper depths of the crevice between her gyrating buttocks. But Mauley stepped back a little and dropped to his knees behind her, prying open her ass-cheeks as he jammed his face between them, covering her anus with his suctioning mouth. His long hot tongue flicked out and into her virginal ass-hole, rolling and twisting inside her until she thought she would faint from utter ecstasy.
"Watch them fucking her! ... Watch!" Mauley commanded, diving back to renew his tonguing and sucking of the girl's lewdly working back passage.
Her head whirled with brainless sensuality when she managed to focus again on the threesome in the studio. Julie's full white buttocks were pried open wider than ever now, the pair of huge black pricks fucking with alternating rhythm into her incredibly expanded ass and cunt holes. Dolores thrilled with each of their thrusts into Julie's body, watching enthralled as the standing man's great sperm-loaded sacs swayed at the base of his pile-driving tube, smacking into the bottom man's balls with every animal-like lunge.
Oh, if only ... if only, Dolores yearned, taking a wide stance to permit Mauley's mouth and tongue to forge greater pleasure at his will. She hated and envied Julie, but now not for having been fucked by Bill ... She wanted to be in her place, to have those thick shiny black rods sliding beautifully in and out of her, filling her, spreading the sensitive walls of her own passages. She could almost feel Julie's fantastic frenzy as the stud skewering into her cunt and pulled with angry sucking motions of his mouth on her friend's wildly jiggling tits.
Dolores' dreams were brought to a halt when she cried at the entrance of Mauley's spit-wet penis into her own tight, resisting rectum. Her brow furrowed with anguish, and she struggled unsuccessfully against it, yet she was hesitant to chance losing what was at least half of the pleasure Julie was experiencing ... and so set her teeth to endure the initial discomfort. His hands were clutching both breasts from behind, his fingers occasionally pausing to pinch her rigid nipples until they stung. Even though her rectal passage was still wet from the shallow intrusions of his tongue, she was not prepared for this sadistic attack from the rear. Still, though, he pushed into her, the sphincter muscles around her anus closing on and swallowing more of his lustfully throbbing cock. She could not think ... the pain was so overwhelming! Tears welled up in her eyes and ran down her cheeks as the prick ventured deeper. . . "Christ, my blessed Christ! ... it's ... ooohhh ... yessss! Do it ... fuck me in there ... hard!" she groaned with the changing sensation of pain to weird pleasure. She began to hump backwards to meet the forward gaffing thrust of his loins.
"Put your legs further out and watch them!" Mauley snapped. His rubbery cock head rode further into her ass, at last up to the stocky hilt, and he dropped one hand from her breasts to sensuously titillate her thrumming clitoris. Then, obeying him, she turned her attention anew to the trio inside on the crazily wobbling table. The black men were on the verge of emptying their sperm in Julie, their eyes rolled back, their teeth bared as they stroked into her with animal carnality. Julie wallowed obscenely, raising and lowering her hips to run every fraction of the last inch of their cocks into her belly. Suddenly Dolores saw both men stiffen almost simultaneously and begin a spasmodic jerking action as they shot hot gushing cum into Julie's ravaged ass-hole and cunt. Seeming torrents of the milky fluid flowed freely out of her and ran off their testicles, pooling and dripping off the table onto the floor. It was too much for Dolores to bear ... She felt the tremor of her climax sweep through her and erupt volcani-cally in tumultuous spasms, causing her mind to reel, her knees to buckle.
"Eeeeeeaaaahhhh! Aaaaggggghhhhh! ... Yesss, yessss!" she squealed as she felt the first convulsions of Mauley's orgasm matching her own. His rampaging lance redoubled its fury, sluicing in to her very depths and sending the contents of his balls splashing against the tender membranous inner wall separating her rectum from her cuntal passage. Gradually, the velocity of his slamming slowed to a lagging churning motion, until at last he staggered back from her, his dwindling penis slipping out of her no longer maidenly ass-hole with a slight popping sound.
Dolores fell forward against the two-way mirror, the labored breathing from Mauley's ultimate exertion no heavier than her own exhausted panting. Then she looked inside again and saw that the two Negroes had risen and left the table to drape themselves over the couch, their chests heaving as they too tried to regain normal breathing. Julie was still on the table, now on her back, her legs wide-flung as she stared stuporously at the ceiling. Her sparse young cunt-hair was matted with semen, the reddened flanges of her cunt as raw and stretched open as was her anus.
Dolores could no longer deny her sexual awakening, that she was now a real woman whose latent desire for men had been torturing her for years, warping her life, imprisoning her in a morality that was never really her own. Her father's rape of her had been her excuse to avoid the feverish urgency in her veins by becoming involved in clubs and church committees, none of which were really effective when it came to helping others. Both Julie and Mauley had stressed the importance of the work in the studio, that it was a dynamic way of helping people find themselves, bringing them together ... And certainly it would be fulfilling, personally fulfilling, work ... So ... why not? she asked herself as she adjusted her bra straps and, smiling sweetly, turned her back to Mauley.
"Les, would you please zip me up?"
"Why, of course, my dear-I'd be more than happy to help you in any way possible." Having dressed and recaptured his usual composure, Mauley placed his hand warmly on her shoulder and steadied her while he zipped up the back of her dress with his free hand.
"Thank you," she said, still smiling, her expression softening even more as a new, wonderful hope fluttered in her breast.
"I'm pleased, very pleased that you qualify for the work here," he grinned, "and now I hope you'll understand the advisability of your leaving before Julie comes out.. . She might be-well-a bit threatened at seeing you here, especially since she'll be leaving with your friend Bill and the two other men...."
"Oh no, she knew I was coming and-" Dolores faltered.
"Never mind that," Mauley broke in, a good-natured gruffness in his voice. "Simply take my word for it." He reached inside his jacket and withdrew a sealed white envelope, then handed it to her. "This will interest you, I think."
"But Bill's keys...."
"If you'll give them to me, I promise I'll return them. And besides, you'll be seeing your new friend regularly."
Dolores had been gone only a few minutes when the door to the studio opened and Julie entered, followed by Norma and the others.
* * *
"My God!" Dolores exclaimed when she opened the envelope outside on the street. "Four hundred dollars!" Shaking with anticipation, she unfolded the attached note.
I'M VERY IMPRESSED BY YOUR WILLINGNESS TO HELP FURTHER OUR WORK. NEEDLESS TO SAY, YOU ARE PARTICULARLY WELL DISPOSED TO LEND BEAUTY AND FRESH PERSONALITY TO OUR MEDIA. PLEASE COME TO THE STUDIO AT TEN TOMORROW MORNING AND WEAR WHATEVER YOU LIKE. WE'RE ALL QUITE HAPPY TO HAVE YOU ABOARD.-LES.
Julie sat dejectedly slouched in her seat as the bus rattled and groaned with the effort of pulling up Lombard Drive toward her home. In her left hand, she held a crumpled wad of hundred-dollar bills; in her other, the envelope containing the note Mauley had handed her as she left the studio. She read it again to make certain she had not misunderstood...
ENCLOSED IS THE FINAL PAYMENT FOR YOUR SERVICES. WE REGRET TO SAY THAT WE ARE DISCONTINUING THE SERIES IN WHICH YOU WERE FEATURED BUT SINCERELY HOPE THAT YOUR PARTICIPATION BENEFITED YOU ... ALSO, WE RECOMMEND YOUR CONTINUED DISCRETION REGARDING THE EXTENT OF YOUR DUTIES WHILE IN OUR EMPLOY. L. M.
CHAPTER 12
Julie had risen later than usual on the following morning. She had explained to Eric that she had slept poorly, fitfully, and would like to catch an extra hour or two of rest after his departure for the lab. Strangely enough, he had been sympathetic, insisting that she stay in bed as long as necessary-until noon if she liked. She had drifted off again soon after she heard his car drive away, then awakened shortly before ten o'clock, dressed hastily, and had gone to the bank to deposit her severance pay in the savings account she had opened.
Now, at eleven-thirty, she was busily engaged in house-cleaning, a frown furrowing her brow as she tried desperately not to think of Lester Mauley, the studio, her friends, anything. She planned to prepare an excellent dinner for Eric and start being a genuine wife again, in all ways.
But nothing was working. Her resolves faded into thoughts about herself, her failures as a woman and now ... even as a whore. For she had decided she was-or at least had been-a whore, as common as though she had walked the streets or been just another sweating floozy in some rank brothel on the wrong side of any town in America. Still, though, her feelings were not crystallized. She admitted to herself that she had felt pride, for earning the tidy sum now in the bank as well as for her performances at the studio. No one there had complained-not that she knew of-and yet Mauley had discharged her without a satisfactory reason.
Then she recalled her consternation when he had told her that yesterday's session was not to be filmed, that it was a trial run to determine her " ... ability to relate with other races." She had been muddled by the absence of the cameras and by the fact that Norma had not been there with her pad, taking notes and whispering to Mauley. Most confusing, the cowboy had entered and instructed her to undress. "The boss said I'm supposed to warm you up," he had explained. And he had, oh how he had! Then the two Negroes, the heartless way they had used her, turning her blood to wildfire and driving her insane with rapture. They had even complimented her afterwards ... And yet here she was, dismissed, not even worthy of whoredom. No wonder Eric was dissatisfied with her.
"Honey, you home?" Terry yelled from the front landing.
"Up here, Terry, in the kitchen."
"I thought you were here. I saw your cat wandering around the back yard, and I know you always keep him in when you're away ... What's the matter-nothing happening at the studio today."
"I don't know," Julie replied laconically. "I don't understand-I thought you and old money-bags were in the middle of filming The Greatest Show On Earth. He tired of sex or something? Or are you?"
"Perhaps ... Yes, I think I am tired of sex ... and a lot of other things."
"Oh, come on," Terry mocked, "don't tell me you're becoming your same silly self again, too much the moralist to enjoy yourself and make a pile of money too? What about your plan to please Eric?"
"No, I'm not the same old Julie. You, of all people, should know that, Terry. Just as you seem to know what pleases my husband." She felt a wave of anger rising in her at the thought of Terry's betrayal with Eric on the night of the party. That, plus her disgrace yesterday at the studio, made her want to lash out vehemently at the cocky woman.
"Jesus, baby, what's bothering you today?"
"All right, I'll tell you what's bothering me, baby, if you really want to know ... The first thing is, I've been informed by your friend Mauley that I'm no longer needed as a whore at his so-called studio. Secondly, I'm sick to death of your phony brand of friendship. And lastly, ... I know all about you and Eric going to bed together, for what you probably called a 'quickie', during the party ... That's what's bothering me, baby!'. ' At the conclusion of her outburst, Julie glared with hateful silence at Terry, who stared back in disbelief, amazed by the fire and loathing in her neighbor's usually placid eyes.
"Julie! ... what on earth? ... Who told you we--? "
"It's not important who told me," Julie interrupted. "What's important is that you did-you got fucked by my husband behind my back! I'm only wondering why you, the great sex expert, chose Eric. Why, baby, why Eric? Can't you land a real stud ? Or is it that, when it comes down to the truth, you're all talk and afraid of opening your legs for someone really virile-someone who might discover that you're no bargain as a lay?"
While sorry that Julie had learned of the infidelity with Eric, Terry could not countenance her angry friend's suggestion that she was afraid to take on a real man. The unfairness of it rankled her. To reassure herself, she thought back to the dozens of boys in college, the married men, the office executives, the sailors she had met in bars, all of whom had recognized her talent as a hot and easy piece. She would screw anyone, she had long ago decided, if he seemed her equal, was clean and looked intelligent enough to be uninhibited ... No, Julie was merely worried about Eric, his inability to get worked up at home.
"Julie, listen to me," Terry began, "I confess that I went to bed with Eric ... And I'm also sorry that your arrangement with Mauley fell through. But you're wrong about some things. As for Eric, he's a lot more man than I thought...."
"Well, slut, you should know!" Julie snarled, galled by Terry's cool declaration of guilt. "However, there's one thing that baffles me. If you're such an almighty nympho, why haven't you taken advantage of the games at the studio?"
"I've told you," Terry replied abruptly, "Jake brings in more than enough income to keep us comfortable."
"You lie!" Julie shrieked, her face a deep crimson, her shoulders shaking with emotion. "Why don't you admit that Les knows you're a frigid bitch ... and doesn't want you? And neither does Jake, or he wouldn't make a point of staying on the road so much!"
"Damn you, that's not true!" Terry yelled, losing the last shred of self-control. "Any man with sense wants me! Eric's been hot for my ass since you moved here! And when it comes to Les, you haven't a leg to stand on ... After all, he dumped you, didn't he?"
"Terry, I think you'd better leave!"
"You're damned right I'll leave-and right now!" Terry said as she stormed down the stairs. Turning at the door, she shot back at Julie: "But you're going to be sorry as hell you ever met me!"
"I already am!" Julie retorted as the door slammed shut with a boom of finality.
* * *
An hour later, still steaming mad, Terry sat in her own kitchen with a tall glass of Scotch whiskey in front of her. She had been fighting her anger at Julie, trying to rationalize her way back to calmness, but had succeeded only in becoming more enraged as she pondered the accusations leveled at her. She had even attempted to telephone Jake at his hotel in San Francisco, but had been informed by the operator that he had not shown up to claim his reservation there. It was not like him, she mused as she sipped the Scotch, not like him at all to forget to cancel a reservation. He was too efficient, too much the enterprising businessman, to neglect even something so trivial as telephoning the hotel to say he would be delayed or was not coming.
She checked the calendar on the wall beside the gas range, hoping that she had mixed up the days ... But no, she had been right: it was the twenty-third, two days after he said he would arrive in the city to meet with the board of directors of a large textile firm. Anyway, there was the uncancelled reservation itself. She wished she knew the name of the firm-then she could call and locate Jake. He was doubtless staying with one of the staff members. Of course, he had probably gone directly to the meeting, gotten drunk afterwards with someone-some executive or buyer-and had accepted the man's invitation to lodge at his house. That would account for everything, Terry decided, taking another healthy slug of Scotch to salute her ability as a logician ... But why had he failed to telephone her for almost a week?
"Goddamn Julie!" she said aloud, surprising herself with her own voice. The bitch had actually ridiculed her, called her a "sex expert" and gone on to imply that Jake, her own husband, was using business as an excuse to avoid her. And as for Les, he had begged her to come to work for him-actually begged! She had declined, of course, because Jake would not have wanted her to waste herself on a lot of slavering idiots with big pricks. Not that she had ever asked for his opinion on the issue; she just knew...
Still, she had to be honest with herself. The very word "prick" sent sharp chills up and down her spine. Subsequent to Mauley's offer, she had been tempted to heed his urgings to come to the studio at least once to take in a filming session. He had tried to entice her with tales about his male models, saying that he rarely considered hiring a man with less than an above average endowment of sex equipment. She could take her choice, he had promised, any day.
Even though she was riled, she could not hold down the giddy warmth that gulfed her when she envisioned hard or even limp male sex organs, with or without bodies and faces above them. Once, as she and Jake were recuperating from an especially rewarding affair on the den floor, they had talked over her fascination in viewing male members. Several days later, he had been called to New York City to negotiate for a new account, and had returned with his briefcase full of magazines featuring nude men. "Here, sweetheart, these will keep you company while I'm on the road," he had announced, handing her the magazines with a sly, knowing grin. She had shown only mild interest in the photographs while Jake was there, not wanting him to feel intimidated by her obvious arousal in seeing other men's phalli; but she had carefully studied the spectacular assortment of cocks as soon as he left. Indeed, they had kept her company, feeding her imagination for hours on end.
She took another swig from her glass and rose, noting as she swayed toward the bedroom that the alcohol was having a remarkable effect on her ... Or was it more than just the Scotch? In any case, her entire system was in a state of disorder, a mixture of anger, excitement, and alcoholic haze.
The magazines were where she had left them, in the top drawer of her vanity table. She selected several of her favorites and sat on the bed, leafing through the pages with unbridled delight. Then, with a sardonic sneer on her face, she stopped and read a portion of the text on the first page of one of the magazines: "This magazine is produced to provide a unique collection of photo reference studies to be used by the serious artist ... Persons desiring erotic or sordid material are warned that such is not to be found herein, nor is it our intention to provide material of such a nature...." Fat chance, Terry thought, as she leaned over to examine one picture of a boy, not more than sixteen, who was posed in a kneeling position. His thick cock and dark-skinned scrotum hung to the floor between his muscle-corded thighs. He appeared to be rather obtuse, she thouglit, but for that very reason, all the more stimulating. She could almost feel the texture of his cockhead, the chamois-like skin of his balls, and lay back panting with her legs parted. Her long tanned legs lifted up and bent and unbent alternately, her back bowing as she moved her hips slowly to the lilting rhythm of her dream. Her fingertips stroked the soft outer lips of her vagina, spreading the moist flesh gently apart, caressing their smoothness to sudden rigidity. A kaleidoscope of sensual visions committed to memory tumbled about in her head, stirring her desire and anger toward Julie simultaneously.
She inserted a finger between the pulsing flanges of her cunt, expecting her passion to soar even higher. But nothing happened. Then she plunged another finger in, and another, now three altogether, and still she felt nothing like the blaze of sensuality that she had expected. Instead, she was beset by overwhelming anxiety and a foolish shriveling of her longing to fondle the young boy's fleshy, dangling penis. "Prick, big fat prick ... Cock!" she chanted desperately in an attempt to rekindle her lusty hunger.
Finally, admitting defeat, she hurled the magazine against the wall and pulled up her panties, an affronted expression smoldering like sulphur in her eyes. "That bitch, that silly bitch! ... Well, she'll pay, by God, she'll pay...."
* * *
"Hi, kids," Terry said as she walked up to Dolores and the cowboy. They had just climbed out of the Jaguar and were busy straightening their clothes and stretching when Terry's greeting cut through the roar of traffic still buzzing in their ears.
"We're just coming from the studio," Bill the cowboy said, brightening at Terry's presence. "Dolores and I finished about the same time-take it as you like-and I magnanimously offered to drive her home."
"Oh, yes, Terry, it was beautiful-more than I thought. You just don't know," Dolores exuded as she smiled up at Bill.
"Oh, it was ... beautiful," Bill smirked. "A perfect pisser of an afternoon, despite the fact that little blooming bubs here had been hard at it since sometime this morning ... Holy Christ, talk about waking a sleeping tigress...."
Dolores gazed lovingly at Bill, her lips half-mooning in a peaches-and-cream expression of adoration. "Kid all you like," she giggled, "but now I know why they call you a cowboy."
"Well, this cowboy needs a stiff drink."
"Say, I've got an idea," Terry joined in. "I've just broached a fresh bottle of Scotch ... Why don't you two sex-fiends come to my place and cool down over a drink?"
"Splendid idea!" Bill enthused.
"I can't," Dolores said dolefully. "I've got to shower and get ready for the Suburban Ethics Club meeting at six o'clock ... I'm resigning this evening ... Bill, you'll stop over before you leave, won't you?"
"Sure, baby.. . But now, let's have that tall one," he said, winking mischievously at Terry.
* * *
Later, having settled down comfortably in the den, drinks in hand, Bill and Terry spent a leisurely half hour poking fun at Dolores' gleeful exuberance over her recent introduction to the ambrosial fruits of sex.
After a while, the cowboy began to loosen up and, while moving closer to his hostess, launched a steady flow of praise and poetic conceits engineered to bowl over any obstacle in his way.
"It comes to me, my bonny friend, that you're a true cynic, imbued with wit and charm, but above all, an insight into the symptoms of our decay as a culture ... I should say...."
"I should say you're drunk," Terry said perkily, "and that you're trying to talk your way into my pants ... You might make it, you know, but that depends upon something else."
"Damned if you didn't find me out ... You would. But what sacrificial provision must I hold to to strike thunder in your secret parts? In other words, how much to fuck you?"
"I'm surprised that you'd pay-for any woman. But since you've placed me in a position to barter, I admit that there's something I want."
"My car?" the cowboy asked sarcastically, yet uncertainly.
"No, not your car," Terry laughed. "It's something much less expensive ... I'd simply like to borrow one of Lester's films with out his knowing ... I want one with Julie in it-one of the ones that hasn't been released. I'd ask him myself, but I know he's a fanatic about unedited film. It's all in fun, just for a joke."
The cowboy shrugged his shoulders and said, "Hell, if that's all you want, there's no problem whatsoever ... But you're not planning something rotten at Julie's expense, are you? She's a nice girl, you know. Besides, even though she did last a little longer than most of them, she just got the boot from Mauley."
Sidling up closer to him, until her leg pressed warmly against his, Terry assumed a pouting expression and nuzzled her head into his chest. "Hey now, would anyone as affectionate as I am do mean things to others? ... Anyway, I thought you were interested in knowing me better."
"Well now, since you put it that way, I guess you're not at all the type to hurt someone. As for getting to know you better, I can't think of a better time than right now to get started...."
With that, he reached out for her breasts and at the same time rolled on his side to throw a leg over her thighs. Her head still nestled against him, she smiled to herself and allowed him to believe that his seduction of her was in the bag.
Then, with a perfect imitation of real protest, she uttered a little cry and struggled free. "Not yet, Bill ... Don't forget, you've not met my price. . . " Still wearing her pout, she added, "More important, though, I'll be certain to see you again when you bring the film."
"I'll be damned! You've outfoxed me again ... Okay, you win. I'll get you your damned film, despite its being a risk and against my better judgment ... But I think I'm entitled to survey what I'm paying for-even if it's just a feel."
"Wouldn't that amount to the same thing as credit?" Terry asked coyly, feigning amazement. Nevertheless, she did not flinch when he gathered her beautiful ripe body to his and kissed her firmly on the mouth. His hands moved once again toward her full succulent breasts, but this time she complied with his desire to touch her and sat passively while he kneaded the lifting spheres. She saw his enormous cock jump to life in the crotch of his trousers, a stain of semen beginning to spread where the inflated head strained to burst through the light gabardine material. Her own sensual yearning sprang to life, her flesh prickling and chilling for the second time that afternoon. The sight of his aching penis, added to his expert manipulations of her breasts, made her wish that holding out were not her insurance that he would return with the film she wanted. But her revenge was too important to sell out for a single sex feast, no matter how ethereal it would no doubt be.
"Steady there, cowboy ... You'll get your ride, I promise, just as soon as you deliver the goods. After all, you only wanted a feel."
"Jesus," he exclaimed, "for such a hot-blooded little bitch, you're as calculating as Cleopatra. Don't worry, baby, I'll deliver ... Be prepared."
"Say, you'd better run if you're going to see Dolores before she takes off to sink the Suburban Ethics Club with her speech on Liberated Virginity."
"Yeah, I guess you're right. I've got to work with her, and it's up to me to keep her agreeable ... Besides, that bloody chest of hers is nothing to spit at ... But one thing bothers hell out of me," he said as though thinking aloud. "I can't figure out how a broad with tits as big as hers ever managed to get a membership in the Suburban Ethics Club."
CHAPTER 13
"Mr. Jeffers, there's a Mr. Jacob Creighton on line four," the operator informed Eric over the intercom.
"Hello, Eric, this is Jake, your itinerate next-door neighbor. Listen, I want to apologize for calling you at work, but I just arrived this afternoon from San Francisco and had to get in touch."
"It's good to hear from you," Eric said uncertainly, fearing that his old friend's call might be about Terry and the last party. There was no crispness in Jake's voice, though; nothing to indicate that he knew...."So what's up, buddy?"
"Nothing world-shattering. It's just that a friend of Terry's came by this morning and dropped off a stag film. Something nasty, I hope ... Well, he's got to have it back tomorrow, and I thought you'd like to drop over this evening to see it with me. We'll have a few drinks, bullshit ... That sort of thing."
"Sounds fine, Jake, but what about the girls?"
"Oh, that's all taken care of.. . Young Dolores has been in touch with Terry-just left, as a matter-of-fact-and they're over at your house now. It seems that Terry and Julie had some sort of falling out ... Nothing important.. . A woman thing, probably about clothes or a recipe ... Something silly ... But-to make a long story short-the girls have conspired to get Julie out of the house and over to Dolores', to hash things out, while you and I sit around swilling booze and watching some cunt get her fill of ... well, whatever fills her. What do you say?"
"Suits me," Eric said with relief, anxious to please Jake. "But what time is the coast supposed to clear? When shall I come?"
"Anytime, as soon as you get home. But go home first and put on something casual, something you don't mind creaming up if the girl in the film's as good as she's supposed to be. Oh, you'd better grab a bite to eat while you're there. There's not a damned thing in our refrigerator but diet food and some kind of perishable concoction Terry uses to keep her hormones alive. Well, I'll let you go back to your slide rule. See you about six-thirty."
"Okay, Jake, and thanks for calling."
Eric sat quietly at his desk after he had told the switchboard girl that he would not receive any more calls unless they were extremely urgent. Aside from being in arrears in his work, he needed time to think and let the tightness in his stomach relax. God knows, his wanton interlude with Terry had seemed worth all the risks and hazards of any extra-marital indulgence. But that was on the night of the party, so far away in time, and now he felt guilty, sorry that he had allowed mere inebriation to carry him so irrevocably beyond Julie's simple trust. He had always been unrelentingly strict with her-perhaps too much so-and she would surely lose confidence in his authority if she ever found out about his breach of her faith in him.
But Terry was such an earthy, cock-hungry bitch-the kind of woman men star in their wildest erotic fantasies-that not even Julie would blame him if she knew anything about sex and what makes a man tick. He had never broken their marriage vows with anyone before Terry, but if Julie did not somehow miraculously change into a real woman in bed, there was every possibility that he would work out his frustrations with his gorgeous neighbor again. Just the thought of her animal-like contortions, her delicious long legs and high white breasts, made his cock hard as a brickbat. He wished he were with her that very moment, slipping his big pole between the ridges of soft flesh framing her deep wet pussy ... Yet, Julie's body was just as exciting-fleshier, more voluptuous, perhaps, but perfectly proportioned ... And her breasts were fuller, in some ways less wholesome and more inviting. If she were only a little more primitive, more "female" and not so submerged in her role as a wife, she would be sexually superior even to Terry.
He thought, then, of his role as Julie's husband. For some reason, one he could not fully comprehend, he had changed from a lover into a ruler of his wife. He had become her hostile critic, derogator and detractor, finding flaws, carping, correcting, and above all minimizing and cutting her down to a scale she seemed to understand and want.
"Eric, if you don't mind, I'd like to see the test results on the Foley project," a voice cut in.
"Oh ... yes, of course, Mr. Perry, here's the preliminary right here. I'll have the final on your desk by quitting time."
CHAPTER 14
Eric pulled into his driveway just as it was growing dark, a few minutes after six o'clock. Julie must already be gone, he thought, as the house lights were out except for the one small lamp they always kept burning when they were away.
Inside, he found a brief note from Julie on the kitchen table:
"If you need me, I'm at Dolores' ... She and Terry came by this afternoon to invite me over for a talk and coffee. Your dinner is in the oven ... Love, Julie."
A little later, Eric sat eating alone for the first time in years. She had left a veal and pepper casserole, one of his favorite dishes, but found himself hard put to enjoy it because of her absence.
Then he remembered what Jake had said about Julie and Terry having had a falling out. Surely Terry had not said anything ... But no, of course not. As bold and irreverent as she was, she was no more willing to jeopardize her security with Jake than he, Eric, was to hurt Julie unnecessarily. It was more-likely what Jake had guessed-some wholly irrational female thing involving vanity. Funny that she had neglected to mention it, though; usually she painstakingly reported everything, even the most banal incidents, to him the first opportunity she got.
In the bedroom, changing into his jeans and an old wool sweater, it occurred to him that Jake would appreciate seeing the collection of Ore and Milling journals he had saved from his post-graduate days when he was writing his Master's thesis. Julie had tried several times to add them to her pile of "terminal junk" during spring house-cleaning, but he had always intervened and saved them for a rainy day, so to speak.
They were exactly where he had last seen them, downstairs in the garage in a corner next to the snow tires, covered with dust and oil and a pyramid of cat dung. He chuckled aloud when he noticed that the small heap of feces was peaked with balls of dust that the cat had clawed onto it to hid his scent.
Eric was scanning the second volume when his eyes wandered and caught sight of the thin imitation-leather booklet resting on top of the next layer of yellowed journals. He picked it up and read the cover: National Eastern Savings and Loan Co. It was new and had apparently been slipped under and withdrawn from the journals a number of times. Opening it to the first page, he sucked in his breath when he saw the booklet was Julie's, a savings account in her name! The balance was $2,175.95!
He reeled where he stood, trying to make sense of the extraordinary discovery ... But it was impossible. Not even he could have milked that much money from the household allowance he gave her every week. Moreover, the account had been opened less than a month ago. There were seven entries, all over two-hundred dollars, the last one deposited several days ago.
He checked his wristwatch and saw that it was after six-thirty. Jake would be wondering.. . He jammed the booklet into his hip pocket and started up the stairs, convinced that his discovery was a mistake and could be put to rest in his mind with a simple explanation from Julie. Still, he could not help but speculate ... There had to be an explanation.
* * *
Eric stood at the bar in the rumpus room while Jake mixed the drinks, mostly whiskey, in two hefty mugs.
"We bought these a few years back," Jake said, pointing to the mugs, "For Pimm's No. I when we have lamb curry. But they're so large and hold the cold so well, I use them for beer and cocktails too. Saves me a lot of walking. You don't need refills so often."
"They're nice," said Eric, without conviction, his mind still swarming with questions about the savings account in Julie's name. He thought of excusing himself and rushing over to Dolores' house to ask his wife for the answers, but decided against it. Jake seemed to be at ease, a little drunk perhaps, but pleased that they were drinking together and sharing an evening like true bachelors. Well, I might as well take it easy too, Eric decided, lifting his mug for another belt of the potent beverage.
"Hey, did you figure out what the girls were mad about?" Jake asked. "I asked Terry just before she left, but she wouldn't budge. Said something about my being an 'inconsiderate son-of-a-bitch' ... Then she went on and on about my 'adolescent sense of responsibility' because I forgot to cancel my reservation at a hotel in San Francisco ... I don't understand her when she's like this. Every once in a while she flips and then raves about the damnedest things. I put up with it, though, because she inevitably softens up and becomes amorous. Fucks as though the world were coming to an end. That reminds me ... Let's set up the projector and see what this film's all about."
"That sounds like a great idea," Eric said agreeably, thankful that Jake had ended the conversation about Terry.
"Give me your mug, then, and I'll make us a couple of king-size drinks, enough to last us so we won't go dry during the movie," Jake said, filling the mugs to the brimming point with the expensive amber-colored whiskey. After he had finished, he came from behind the bar and walked up to the wall on the other side of the room, then pulled down the permanently-affixed screen. Meanwhile, Eric put to work his technical skill and began to thread the film leader through the complex of rollers and other appurtenances on the side of the projector.
"This sounds pretty wild," Eric brightened, holding up the flat black metal film case. "It's called, believe it or not, Animal Tamer ... Series A2."
"I know ... Man, it's only because you're about my best friend that I didn't give it a preview. But I thought I'd save it to see with you, because I'm one of those boorish bastards who's always telling what's coming next-you know, when I've seen a movie before anyone else."
"Well, don't feel guilty-I'm the same way. But come on, the hell with talking.. . Why don't we see if the star can really tame animals?" Eric was feeling his whiskey, but more than that, at ease with himself because of Jake's obvious ignorance about the good banging he had given his wife on the night of the party.
"You don't see me hiding my eyes," Jake slurred. "Go to it."
Eric nodded and flipped the switch at the back of the projector. They both tilted up their mugs for a drink, as though to steel themselves for the thrills to come, and squirmed on the bar stools to secure better positions as they leaned back with their elbows on the rolls of leather framing the bar.
(At first, there was the usual montage of black slashes and numbers on the screen. Then the clattering of the projector ceased and the title appeared ... Animal Tamer, Produced and Directed by L. M. ... An L. M. Production ... Two girls were staged with a large black goat in what appeared to be a jungle scene. Both naked, one girl was seated in the bowl of a huge rock with her head thrown back, her identity obscured by the camera angle and the other girl's lush form. The goat was mounted on the rock with his forefeet just outside the seated girl's thighs. The foremost girl knelt and began to manipulate the goat's genitals. When the beast's cock emerged from his sheath, she took it fully into her mouth and began to suck and draw on the hard wet length.)
"Christ, look at that," Jake huffed. "Terry was right when she said this was a winner!" He was already re-engrossed in watching the film when Eric turned to bob his head up and down in appreciative agreement.
(The passionate animal was close to orgasm. The pretty blonde girl seemed to sense it and pulled the creature's humping buttocks forward to better facilitate his lewd thrusts into her mouth. His buttocks quivered and he drove faster, faster, until the girl's cheeks bloated with his dense, slushy sperm. She swallowed in rapid succession, still sucking obscenely at the thick stiff prick to withdraw every last ounce of cum she could. The sticky white liquid dribbled out between her lips, down onto her chest ... Exhausted, the goat dismounted the rock and was led away by the blonde. The other girl's lower body was then exposed. The camera moved in for a close-up of her ivory buttocks and the moist, slightly-parted cleft of her hair-lined cunt. She wriggled down deeper into the hollowed-out space in the rock and gaped open her legs, showing more clearly the area of her pussy and the dark ring around her ass-hole. There was a tiny birthmark on one half of the girl's buttocks.)
"Holy shit!" Jake boomed, "I can't wait to see how they top that." Eric remained quiet, somehow distant as he studied the screen.
(While the girl on the rock waited in readiness, the blonde led up a second goat, blacker and huskier than the first. At the gentlest prompting, the big brute reared and took a sound position between the prone girl's thighs. The blonde fell to her knees and once again stimulated her charge by masturbating the sheath-encased penis to erection. The long knobby cock slid inch by inch into view ... As the blonde stepped away, the seated girl raised her head to watch the goat's organ split open her throbbing cunt and run into her. Her lips were parted, her pointed red tongue clenched between her teeth, signifying the degree of her lascivious joy.)
"Good God, it's Julie!" Jake cried dumbfoundedly. Immediately, he reached behind him to shut off the projector on the bar.
"No, let it go," Eric said softly, his face bloodless, his body shaking with the force of barely-concealed emotion. The two men stared at each other for a long painful moment, then Jake set the machine in motion again. The whirring sound was excruciatingly loud, the picture as clear as a bell.
(The intensity of Julie's crazed lust increased as the goat banged harder against her, sinking his inflamed shaft further and further into her willing vagina. She grimaced as the thrusting cock-tip gouged her cervix and sent delicious waves of pain and pleasure through her ... She caressed the wide base of the cock at the peak of each of its lunges into her, her hands drooping to fondle the balls below it at the back-stroke.)
Eric was transfixed, his mind afire with fury and shock. Slowly, dimly, the initials "L. M." surfaced on his consciousness. ... Suddenly it came to him: Lester Mauley! ... The bank book secreted away under the journals, the money ... His wife was a whore, a sneaking whore! The realization broke like a tidal wave throughout his tensed body.
He turned to look at Jake, hoping his friend would somehow know the real depth of agony and embarrassment he felt. But Jake was thoroughly absorbed in the depraved exhibition on the screen. He bristled anew at the sight of Jake's meaty hand rubbing the pronounced lump jutting up from the crotch of his trousers. His best friend was turned on, actually hot at the most humiliating moment of Eric's life.. . Fighting himself, Eric faced the screen again.
(Julie ground her cunt up to meet the beast's hard driving cock. Her pleasure-wracked body twisted and writhed as the dumb animal fucked into her hot, hungrily milking vagina like a jack-hammer.)
"Man, look at her go!" Jake yelled, his hand now plunged down inside his trousers, yanking at his prick without shame. As Eric watched, horrified, his excited neighbor began to buck uncontrollably on the stool, holding his penis as it spewed gush after gush of cum in the crotch of his trousers.
Eric turned again to view the lustful coupling on the screen.
(The crazily fucking goat was cumming deep in Julie's belly. Her face was pinched, her nostrils flaring from the effects of her own ecstasy.)
* * *
"More coffee, Julie?" Dolores asked. "No thanks. Another drop and I'll be up all night."
The three girls sat cozily around the formica-topped table in Dolores' kitchen, sipping the last of their coffee and chatting about incidentals. The main topic-the rift between Terry and Julie-had long ago been settled. They had both apologized and were now feeling repentant for the harsh words they had exchanged. Only Terry was not genuinely relaxed ... She kept glancing up at the clock on the shelf over the counter beside the sink.
"Don't you think we ought to wind this up?" Terry asked her companions. "It's getting late ... Besides, we'd better not let Jake and Eric get the idea that we've abandoned them."
"You're probably right, Terry, as usual.. . I dread facing my husband, though ... I can't remember when I've been so bold as to stick his dinner in the oven, with only a note to explain my whereabouts and why he has to eat alone."
"Now stop worrying, Julie," Dolores admonished. "After all, you and Terry are the ones who've been telling me to break loose and start thinking about myself. Well, I've done it ... and it's only right that I give you back some of your own advice."
Julie smiled expansively and drained off the last of her lukewarm coffee as Dolores rose to put away the cream and rinse the dish that had been heaped high with tarts and other delectables. For the first time since her hostile encounter with Terry, Julie was thawing emotionally and looking upon her break with Mauley as a boon and not the repetition of hopeless failure that had been the story of her life. She remembered a line from a novel she had read the year before: " ... Knowledge is not fortuitous but the fruit of a conscious decision, a turning toward...."
Dolores turned toward her two friends, sighed, and excused herself: "I'm sorry, but I've simply got to go to the bathroom before we leave."
When their hostess had pulled to the door to the bathroom and turned on the faucet, presumably to drown out the sound of her evacuation, Terry pushed aside the ashtray in front of her and leaned forward toward Julie.
"Honey, no matter what you may think of me after tonight, let me say I'm sorry. You don't know what I'm talking about-yet-but just try to chalk up what's coming to old Terry's damned foolishness ... Anyway, forgive me...." Terry's eyes were filled with tears, long streaks of mascara running down her cheeks.
Julie was overcome with the sincerity of Terry's plea, still not aware of its meaning nor the force of her friend's remorse. She was on the verge of replying when Dolores whisked in, her colossal breasts still bouncing even after she had come to a halt in the doorway.
"What's wrong?" Dolores asked, taking in the somber expression on Terry's face. "Did I barge in at the wrong time?"
"No, never mind," Terry said, quickly recomposing herself. "It's just that I'm tired and want to go home."
"Yes, I suppose that's a good suggestion ... I'm tired too. Moreover, I've not seen my husband since this morning. He's going to scalp me, I'm afraid, because I had the audacity to take off with hardly any justification."
The three girls bustled about the kitchen, cleaning up and avoiding each other's eyes. When the silence was no longer bearable, Dolores broke in with a giggle and said, "Bill asked about you today, Julie. He was really concerned about your state of mind. He told me to warn you that he might drop by some day soon ... He was only kidding, of course."
"Of course," Terry said.
* * *
Jake had just returned from the bathroom when the two wives and Dolores strode into the rumpus room. The women knew at once that something was wrong, that there was an atmosphere of discomfort and hate filling the room. Eric was still on his stool, staring down wordlessly at the floor. Terry moved quickly to the bar and shut off the movie projector, which had played through the film some time ago and was then casting only a stark white blankness on the screen.
"You knew, didn't you?" Jake asked in an undertone. Terry did not answer and continued to stare away, her expression a confession of guilt without words. "Didn't you?" he asked again, his voice rising.
"Yes. I knew. I'm ... sorry. Forgive me." Terry fled from the room, sobbing openly.
"What's going on here?" Dolores blurted. No one answered the untimely question; the tenseness in the air reigned on, uninterrupted except for Jake's shame-faced retreat behind the bar to fix himself another drink.
"Anyone for a nightcap? ... Eric?"
Julie turned to watch Eric's reaction to the question, but there was none. He simply looked down, his eyes glassy and remote, his lips curved sneeringly as if he were thinking of some naughty private joke. She knew the look, had seen it on numerous occasions when some major disaster had affected him.
"Eric, I'm sorry too," Julie said. "I know you're angry with me, but. . . "
"Be quiet. Just be quiet," Eric whispered.
"But I fixed your favorite casserole ... I'm ... Terry and I ... Oh please, I'm sorry I wasn't home!"
Dolores mustered her courage and stepped up to Eric. "Come on, everyone, you too, Eric ... Let's all have that nightcap Jake offered." Still, no one moved or made any indication that Dolores' newfound self-confidence was worth even the least attention.
"Jake, I fucked your wife. I fucked her in her pussy, Jake, and I think I'll fuck her from now on, every time you're out of town...." Eric's berry-black eyes twinkled almost gaily as they searched from face to face to appraise the effect of his words. "Why Jake, old buddy, what's bothering you? Don't tell me you can't handle the truth about your hot-crotched little wife. You don't actually think she sits around here with a pillow over her box, dreaming of you, while you're gone, do you?"
"Eric, hadn't we better go?" Julie asked softly. "We can talk this over at home."
"Yes, of course, my loyal little Julie, my industrious little wife ... Of course we can talk this over at home. For that matter, we can sit down over a nice hot cup of coffee and decide what we're going to spend your whore-money on ... But you'd best consult Jake before we make any decisions.
Right? He's fucking you too, isn't he? ... Oh, I almost forgot! Lester Mauley should have a say too, shouldn't he? He helped you to stardom, didn't he? ... I've always wondered what it would be like to live with an actress. They say it's pure hell, but now I know that's a lot of shit. You've been wonderful, love, just wonderful ... No trouble at all ... But then, even I can understand why. You haven't had the difficulties an actress normally has-no husband to interfere with your performances ... No fans milling around outside your door, yelling for autographs ... None of the legendary hassles beautiful actresses usually have with press agents and gossip columnists ... And, God knows, from what I've seen, you don't need a psychiatrist to figure out your sex problems. It's all quite simple. We'll buy a farm and stock it with big black goats-and bulls. And chickens. Have you tried roosters yet, Julie? I'll bet my last nickel that they're great-one of your better lays ... And...."
"Oh please, this is scary ... Please stop," Dolores whimpered, the meaning of the tension finally starting to penetrate her innocent apprehension of the circumstances.
The buxom girl's plea stabbed through Eric's consciousness like a bolt of lightning. He whipped around his head to locate the source of the voice, gave Dolores an apologetic smile, then took Julie's arm to leave.
"We'll be seeing you, Jake, ... I guess."
CHAPTER 15
At home, Julie and Eric undressed for bed, their mutual silence hanging like a pall in the air. There was no doubt now that he knew where and how she had earned her "whore-money" ... And he had publicly admitted his infidelity with Terry. If only he would unbend; if only they could sit down and talk over their marriage, the events of the last month, the ... killing distance.
"How many men have you been fucked by Julie? How many cocks have you had up your sweet little cunt?"
"Eric, I ... I think we're both too upset to discuss this rationally. Tomorrow's another day ... All I can say right now is, ... I'm sorry. I did what I did for you, for us, to help us out of the financial rut we've been in for years."
"Aha!" Eric howled, his arms extended, the nasty sneer he had worn earlier returning to his face. "I thought you'd at least come up with something more imaginative."
Julie chose not to acknowledge his last remark, knowing that anything she said would simply incite him to further anger. She went on in silence, peeling her gauzy pink panties down over her still exquisite buttocks, shedding her last defense against total vulnerability. Turning, she saw that Eric was also naked, standing beside the bed with his hands on his hips, his eyes gleamingly fixed on her ivory buttocks where, a moment before, the telltale birthmark had been exposed to his burning gaze.
"Come here, love," he demanded softly, as he eased himself to a prone position on the bed. "Is your little cunt hungry, or did you get yours already today? Come over and sit with Eric, your husband, the one with all the legal privileges-or had you forgotten?" A thin cruel smile played across his lips as he patted the edge of the bed beside him.
Hesitantly, she stepped over to the bed, watching as he stroked the rock-hard length of his pulsing rod. "Eric, please-you must believe me. I only did it for the money ... I mean-" she began as he reached up to jerk her down beside him on the coverlet.
"Ah, my thoughtful little wife-whore. Well, now let's see what you've learned in your travels," he snapped. "If you're good enough, I may even pimp for you." His hand snaked out to twine into her hair, twisting it painfully around his fingers as he pushed her face down toward his belly. As she tried to pull away from his agonizing grasp, he snarled, "What's the matter, baby. Do you only do it for cash? I'm your husband-remember?"
Julie felt the smooth blood-gorged head of his lurching cock pressing bluntly into the soft skin of her cheek. Straining to turn her head up to face him, she pleaded, "Please, Eric, don't do this to us. I love you." With a bestial grunt, he pushed her down again and heaved his pelvis upward, lodging his thick, aroused cock between her yielding lips.
She tenderly kissed the swollen head, then took it into her mouth, accepting as rightful reckoning whatever humiliating abuse he would subject her to. Her tight lips moved slowly down the shaft, her tongue working persuasively as she lowered onto it, tasting the pungent tang of his viscous semen seeping from the tip.
"Ooooh, Julie!" Eric moaned as the warm elastic pressure of her lips and the skillful ministrations of her pointed tongue casued him to stab his distended column deeper into her mouth, forcing it toward her throat like a throbbing, aching piston of pleasure.
Christ! He loved her! Right at that moment he was certain of it. She was his wife and, besides, no one had ever sucked his cock like this before. "Suck it, Julie! Ooooh God, I do love you!"
Her heart leapt as she heard the words rasped breathlessly from the lust-contorted lips of her husband. Holding his prick in one hand, she eased down on his loins, beginning to draw it steadily up and down through her open lips, twisting her tongue at the peak of each stroke.
As he raised his head to watch, the sight of her lovely cheeks, bloating and hollowing with each thrust, drove him to greater frenzy. She gasped and sucked harder as he began a rhythmic pounding into her mouth, brutally crashing the huge muscled cock against the tender tissue of the back of her throat.
"Oh, baby, I love you ... love you," he whispered hoarsely as the glans of his hardened penis pulsed maddeningly beneath her tongue. Her breasts quivered and billowed below her buffeted torso as he slammed his groin into her face, fucking her receptive mouth with his straining rod of hardened flesh. His cock felt ready to explode, the pressure in his pulsing balls building to a bursting point.
He writhed his buttocks, pulling her head down to engulf his fiery organ as he felt the white hot stream from deep in his bloated sacs mounting the length of his prick to jet in lava-like streams far into her throat, filling her cheeks as she gulped wildly to swallow it all to keep from choking.
With a last massive thrust, he emptied a torrent of the fluid into her head, watching amazed as though taking a milkshake through a straw she greedily drew out the last dregs of sperm still caught in his shrinking penis.
He fell back onto the bed while she lay contentedly across his stomach, cradling the limp organ in her warm palm.
"Darling, darling, you're wonderful! You don't know how happy I am...." Julie effused.
Epilogue
The following week, during a thunderstorm which lashed their street like an angry deity, Julie and Eric packed the last of their personal belongings in the back seat of their car. The moving van had just left with the bulk of their furniture, headed as they were for Butte, Montana.
Eric had applied for, and received, a transfer to the Butte branch of his company. The money was no better, but at least his firm was sponsoring the trip and had already arranged lodging for them with a young lab researcher and his wife. Julie had vowed to utilize all her spare time looking for a small house within their means. And now that they had sold their home (even though it was still in escrow) and withdrawn all the money in Julie's savings account, they had enough to make a substantial deposit on whatever they found.
Jake and Terry had given them a going-away party, a really happy affair, during which Jake and Eric had made amends and sworn life-long friendship over drinks. Terry had drawn Julie aside and, with Dolores looking on, had made a pact to keep in touch and visit each other whenever they were within a day's traveling distance.
Even Lester Mauley had been there, with Norma and Bill the cowboy, all of whom had wished Julie and Eric the very best. There had almost been a fight between Eric and Les, the latter who had jokingly suggested that "the hicks in such a provincial burg" would certainly appreciate "a classy broad like Julie...." It was then that Norma had stepped forward and, with uncharacteristic eloquence, announced that she and Les were married. It was information that not even Terry knew, despite the fact that she and Jake had been Mauley's friends for a number of years.
Dolores had wept, not to anyone's surprise, because she felt aggrieved over her friends' departure for "a new life...." The cowboy had stepped up to the bar, literally (that is, mounting a stool to stand on the bar-top itself), and had read his most recent work, a lengthy narrative poem about a girl with a mammoth chest. . .
Above all, Julie and Eric understood their different views concerning sex and had broken them down to workable principles in bed.
Winter was just around the corner. Julie had heard of the fierce Montana storms, that those in summer-during the rainy season-were equal to the worst heavy snows, but she was not threatened now by stories. She was excited, eager, anticipating the chance for a new start with Eric like a giddy kid waiting for Santa Claus on Christmas Eve. She dreamed of the winters she would spend with her new husband (wasn't he?), of the bitter nights when they would snuggle up to each other, thankful, happy just to be alive. She thought of the jaunts she would make to the store, wrapped up like a Russian, her shoulders hunched-up, her hands deep in her pockets, shivering because she was happy and in love...
