Forty-five minutes later, the three of us were stark naked on Jeri's bed. All the lights were turned on-for her husband's benefit! Surprisingly, I didn't mind having a one-man audience-and neither did she. In fact, it turned us on all the more.
Corey's head was close to us, and in this position he observed everything we did. I glanced at him occasionally to find he was sweating almost as much as Jeri and I.
Counting the dollars with every stroke, I felt the blood rush to the core of my being as the hot piece of woman-flesh beneath me bucked and trembled. And then she was moaning uncontrollably, getting ready for the final sweeping surge of ecstasy.
I rolled away from her heaving body, whispering hoarsely to Corey. "Get on her, man-now!"
CHAPTER ONE
TEACH ME, TEACHER....
I can't remember how many young wives, teenagers, divorcees, old maids and just plain women I've laid in the past ten years, but I'd say it's well past the 3,000 mark. And, of course, that doesn't include the times I've been trade, or any of those abnormal side trips.
The trouble is I can't get enough of women. They drive me up the walls. It's an obsession! A head shirinker once told me it was a sickness known as satyriasis. I looked it up and the definition is "excessive and uncontrollable sexual desires in a man." I got it all right and it looks like I'm stuck with it.
That first summer I went off to camp ... at the early age of ten ... I discovered I was different from the rest of the guys my age. For one thing, I was more developed than the rest of them. In size I compared to some of the camp counsellors, who were nineteen and twenty. That is how I came by the nickname "The Snake". For another thing, I knew a helluva lot more about sex than was normal for a boy my age. I should have. Since I can remember, I was always reading everything I could get my hands on ... everything forbidden that is. Between the ages of eight and twelve, I had this recurring dream about older women fondling and playing with my joint.
Without fail, I had a wet dream every night, sometimes two and three times a night. You can imagine how confused I was as a kid, and until I went off to camp and started associating with a lot of other boys, I kept everything to myself.
It's normal for a boy of ten to be curious about girls and sex, but me, I was abnormally advanced for my age. I was the center attraction at camp that summer, especially in the shower stalls. Naturally, I was admired by the other boys and they looked up to me in awe. I used to get a charge out of sitting around a campfire at night and making up a lot of stories about my experiences with girls that shocked the bejesus out of them. Poor little bastards. I really gave them feelings of inferiority that probably damaged their manhood for years to come.
I didn't realize it then, but I was the one that was getting damaged. Those kids really gave me a he-man complex that I still haven't been able to overcome. I was King Kong to those kids and ever since then, I've worked my head off to give that impression to every female I encountered.
For the record, my name is Archer Nelson. That's not my real name, but it's the one I use a lot professionally. I'm twenty-six years old, stand six feet two inches, and weigh in at pounds, stripped. By descent I'm Greek, and you know what they say about the Greeks. There's nothing more dangerous than a Greek in sneakers. Bank the corners of the room and a Greek will give you a helluva chase every time.
I come from a little town about a hundred and fifty miles north of San Francisco. I can't give you the name of the town because my story involves a lot of people I'm going to tell you all about, who might be identified and consequently hurt by it. So for the sake of reference I'll call it Richfield. My father worked in a fish cannery there. That's where I was raised and where I went to school. I got as far as my junior year in high school and then I was expelled for making an obscene overture to one of my teachers, who had been keeping me after school all the time.
One afternoon I finally got her message. She was a frustrated young broad, who was starved for a man. I could tell by the way she walked, as if she was going to drop something and lose it. So I said to her one day, "What's eating you, Miss B-? I mean, what do you want from me?"
She was seated at her desk, and I stood in front of the desk facing her. She looked up at me, blinking those beady eyes of hers like she always did, and biting nervously on her lower lip. "I want you to start applying yourself, Archer," she announced. "You're a bright boy ... with a good appearance. There's no excuse for you to have the lowest average in my class. If you'd just apply yourself more."
"I'll apply myself, Miss B-," I assured her. "I'll apply myself right into you. Would you like that?"
"What? What was that you said?" She heard me all right, but she was thrown for an answer. Her eyes kept stealing glances at my basket.
I thought to myself, calm her down and give her what she wants. So I unzipped my fly, pulled out my joint and flapped it on her desk. "Is this what you want, Miss B-?" I asked. "It's yours for the asking."
She dropped her glasses and gasped. I thought she was going to choke to death right there. Her mouth was opened and her eyes looked like they were going to pop right out of her head. I crossed around to her, my joint dangling in full view, and tried to slap her on the back. She swiveled to one side in her chair and doubled over while coughing. For an instant, her lips were inches away from the head of my joint. Whether this was intentional or not, I don't know, but I'll bet it was. She wasn't blind! The tip of her tongue was hanging out and brushed over my head. Naturally the damn thing started to grow rigid. I placed my hands on the back of her neck and started to force her head forward. That's when the bitch started screaming bloody murder.
So, what the hell! I wasn't any good in school anyway. At least I wasn't learning anything. I guess I was too preoccupied with sex. The only other thing I ever showed any interest in was painting. At first, I started by drawing dirty pictures of men plowing into women, and then I got interested in anatomy and started perfecting nudes.
There was this writer who lived in Richfield. His name was Odell Brown. He wrote some pretty sensational stuff. I guess I've read everything he ever wrote. He's pretty famous. When I was in grade school, I was truant for about a week. My father wasn't working then. He was drunk all the time, and beating up my Ma. Anyway, about that time I got Odell Brown as a Big Brother, and we've been friends ever since. Odell took an interest in me and encouraged me to keep on with my painting. Odell was somebody I could always talk to. I knew he would level with me. Whatever good I have in me is a result of Odell's influence. He praised my eagerness to read, which made me read all the more. Odell said that reading in itself was an education-reading and travel. I always wanted to speak well and be knowledgeable about life. All this I got from Odell.
Whenever I was in trouble, the first person I went to was Big Brother himself. He was a bachelor in those days, and he seemed to understand, even when I was in the wrong. The day I got expelled ... Odell and I stayed up half the night talking about it. He said I had too many strikes against me in Richfield and suggested I go to San Francisco, where I wouldn't be confined, where I would be free to discover myself. He said he would sponsor me, if I would go there and study painting.
Two days later I was on the bus headed for San Francisco, determined that my life would now be dedicated to art. Two stops out of Richfield, an attractive looking dish ... a blond ... got on and my dedication vanished. Well, I said to myself, at least she'll help me pass the time, and it might even been amusing to find out if I could score with her. It would soon be dark, I reasoned, and with the lights out, the bus was as good a place as any. I'm a nut, I know, but like I said, women-any kind-turn me on. I have no preference of type. This one, however, was young and eager.
The seat next to me was empty, and as she came up the aisle I gave her a keen, inviting look.
"Is this seat occupied?" she asked demurely. Man alive was she eager!
"No," I replied and then turned to stare out the window without speaking. Then, when I felt the time was right, I offered her a cigarette and asked "Are you going far?"
"To San Francisco," she stated, taking a long drag on her cigarette.
"Hey, so am I. Are you from Frisco?"
"No. This will be my first trip," she explained. "I'm going there to get married."
She blushed and I knew this was a challenge I couldn't pass up. She had firm little breasts, large soulful eyes and baby lips that were just asking for it. It turned out she was eighteen years old. Her name was Angela, and this was the first time she had been out of her hometown on her own. We talked for a while about this and that until it grew dark and I was able to make my first move, first by placing my hand over hers, then letting it come to rest gently upon her knee. If she was startled or shocked, she didn't show it.
About that time the bus lights came on, and I offered her a blanket, even though it wasn't chilly. She was a smart little girl. She caught on quickly.
She draped the blanket over her lap and I was able to slip my hand underneath it and continue my exploring. For a while my fingers played upon her thighs, stroking them, massaging them, working up underneath her skirt. She did nothing. She just relaxed and pretended to doze off. Not until my fingers started tugging at her panties did she tense up. I could feel the muscles in her legs stiffen. She opened her eyes and turned to glance at me sort of pleadingly. I didn't know whether she was pleading for me to stop or to keep going. When in doubt, I always say, keep going.
She eased up slightly off her seat and I was able to pull her panties off her hips and get them down to her knees. From there on, she was able to work them down to her ankles and step out of them. Now the field was free and clear for a real finger-play session. For about twenty minutes I tantalized her until I thought she was going to squirm right out of her seat.
An old lady in the seat across the aisle began to get curious and I had to stop. I pulled my hand away and turned to face front in my chair. Nothing was said until I heard her crying softly.
"What's the matter?" I whispered.
"Why did I let you do that?" she whimpered. "I ... I don't know what came over me."
"It wasn't your fault, honey. I just got carried away. I couldn't control myself and I took advantage of you, I'm afraid."
"Yes, and I let you," she sighed.
"Sometimes these things just happen," I offered.
"Not to me, not like this ... with someone I've only known for a couple of hours."
"That's a funny thing, Angela. Time means nothing when something like this happens."
"Like what happens?" She was looking at me wide-eyed, ready to fall for any line I dished out.
"The first time I looked at you, I knew you were the type of girl I could love." I reached for her hand and clasped it between mine. "I want you so bad, Angela, I hurt all over. If I could just love you ... love you the right way. This damn bus ... all these people ... make it impossible."
She turned away from me and stared out the window. Then in a voice that was almost inaudible, she admitted, "I want you too."
"If only there was some way," I sighed.
"There isn't," the girl said. 'And even if there was, it wouldn't be right. I mean, I'm on my way to San Francisco to be married. There's a boy there, waiting for me."
I looked at her, my eyes filled with sadness, although I was enjoying myself enormously. "If only I had met you first, things might have been different."
About that time, I noticed the bus was slowing down as it pulled off the highway into a filling station and restaurant. Then the bus driver announced a one hour rest stop for dinner. Angela and I exchanged glances. We were each thinking the same thing. We got up and left the bus along with the other passengers.
Once we were off the bus, Angela stopped short and started to turn back. "What is it?" I asked.
"My panties," she whispered. "I forgot them."
"Where are they?"
"On the bus ... underneath my seat."
"Forget it. Leave them there. Nobody but you and me will know the difference." As I spoke I noticed there was a row of cabins in back of the restaurant. It was a perfect set up. We had exactly one hour. "Look, I said ... soon you're going to be married and I may never see you again. But I know one thing, Angela, I'll never forget you. Can't we steal one hour of happiness together?" She was taking it all in. I almost laughed in her face. Women are so gullible, sometimes.
Her remark was priceless. "You mean ... just passing strangers in the night?"
I had a hard time holding a straight face on that one. "Yes, my darling."
Angela wilted in my arms. "Do you think they would believe us, if we told them we were man and wife?"
"Leave it to me."
While I made arrangements for a cabin, Angela ordered a couple of cheeseburgers, a beer for me and a coffee for her, to go. I was at the cabin door waiting for her as she came running around the side of the restaurant with a sack of food. "Over here," I waved to her. "Cabin four!"
I had no sooner closed the door to the cabin than Angela locked her arms around my neck. She couldn't wait. She pressed her lips to mine, her tongue darted out and explored the inside of my mouth. I decided she wasn't all that innocent. Her breath was hot. Her body squirmed against mine. Boy, did she want it. I didn't even get a chance to take a bite out of my cheeseburger or sip my beer. She was all over me, groping, squeezing, clawing at my clothes.
"Okay, honey ... okay. We got almost an hour. There's plenty of time." I discovered a long time ago, the more you put them off, the hotter they get.
She had a beautiful little body. She was worth all the trouble and more. She dropped her dress to the floor and I nearly jumped out of my skin at the-sight of her standing before me wearing only her brassiere, garter-belt and hose. My mouth watered as I stepped back and gazed upon her. She was an exhibitionist at heart. With a real sense of showmanship, she unhooked her bra, peeled it off and proudly exposed her firm, upright little breasts. They were like ripe pink grapefruit. Then she lifted each of her well-shaped legs, one at a time, to rest each foot on the arm of a chair in order to roll down her stockings. With a final flourish, she ripped off her garter belt and twirled about on her toes, revealing to me all of delicious nakedness, including the delicate, well-rounded mounds of her buttocks. She was indeed a tasty morsel. I forgot all about my beer and cheeseburger. I could have eaten her alive.
"Now it's your turn," she said as she ran and leaped upon the bed. She sat cross-legged, her eyes glued upon me like an eager, enchanted child waiting for the circus parade.
I, too, am a bit of an exhibitionist. I might as well admit it. I get such a charge out of revealing myself to women. They're always so sure of themselves and their bodily charms, until they get an eyeful of my weapon. The size of it never fails to startle them and they get a doubtful, almost fearful look in their eyes. That pleases the hell out of me.
I joined her on the bed stark naked and instantly she was all over me, her warm, wet lips on mine, her delicate tongue sucking and probing. We were both thrown off balance by Angela's charging force and we fell backwards on the bed to an irritating squeak of the bed springs. She was on top of me now, but I managed to clutch her cute little breasts, massaging her cherry-sized nipples with my thumbs until the peaks hardened and throbbed.
My tongue was still entwined with hers as I moved one hand off her breast and down to her curving thighs that were already aching and on fire. Boldly I began to stroke, exploring and probing between her legs. She reacted by biting lightly on my thick tongue that was stabbing her lips.
As I continued my probe and fondled her, she squirmed over me, nibbling on my ear lobes, my neck and eventually chewed on one of my nipples until it was red and raw. I felt sorry for the bastard she was going to marry. Within a week, she would have all of him chewed to bits.
She started to work her head down between my legs, fully intending to chew off my enthusiasm. I couldn't have that. "No, you don't." I chuckled, as I lifted her off me.
Angela moaned as she rolled over beside me and arched her back and spread her shapely legs like the wings of an eagle. Hovering over her, I lifted her legs over my shoulders and plunged downward into the damp forest. With my initial thrust, Angela cried out. All women do. Whenever I sock it into them for the first time, they scream and make like virgins. Angela pressed her hands against my chest and tried to force me off of her.
"No, please," she moaned. "You're hurting me. I can't take it."
Once I got in there, nobody, but nobody deters me for a single moment. If I have to be cruel, then I'm cruel. There's a time to be rough. This was a time to get rough. I pressed my right forearm cruelly across her breasts and squeezed her shoulder so hard with my fingers she winced in pain. Pressing and forcing myself against the resilient flesh below me, I slowly increased the speed of my piston rod ... I love that term ... until her body began to move convulsively in rhythm with mine. With a gasping groan, she reared her buttocks with all her might, lifting my weight higher. She met my invasion admirably.
Oh, brother, what a feeling of blissful relief and joy that was. A passionate act sweeps away all my tension and nerves.
Grinding and rolling together, we stubbornly held our lips together, sucking and swallowing until we were both completely breathless and saturated. Time was running out on us and I could not prolong the sensation any longer.
I banged my bulk against her unmercifully. There was a mutual shuddering contraction of twisting muscles as our heaving, sweating bodies battered each other. Recklessly, rapidly, our flaming ecstasy rose toward the peak of fulfillment. Star shells bursting, shattering the heavens, destroying the private darkness, two strangers did indeed meet in the night-head on and wham! Then, we pulled apart in a state of panic and beat our asses back to the bus as it was pulling out of the service station.
Well, that's the way it goes, if you're a guy like me, who has to get himself serviced regularly on a daily basis.
The aftermath is always a headache.
Back on the bus, Angela's conscience caught up to her and she began to bawl like a baby.
"Knock it off, sweetheart," I said. "What will people think?"
"I can't help it," she sobbed. "I'm in love with you. How can I marry somebody else now?"
"Baby, that's the way it goes. We've had our kicks, now you have an obligation to perform."
"What about you?"
"Me, too, honey. I didn't tell you before, but I'm married."
She started bellowing louder than before. All the people on the bus were looking at us. "Oh, Archer, how could you?"
"The same way you could."
"Do you love her?"
"No, but I don't want to hurt her. That boy waiting for you in Frisco, do you want to wreck his life?"
"No, but...."
"Like you said, honey ... we were strangers in the night."
"I love that song, don't you?"
"Yea, it's a great tune."
"Whenever I hear it now, I will always think of us."
"You do that."
"I'll bet you think of me as a cheap pick-up."
"No, Angela, I don't think that."
"Promise you'll remember me, Archer."
"I'll never forget you, baby." And under my hat I was thinking...."until the next one."
CHAPTER TWO
I DEVOURED HER LUSCIOUS PINK LIPS....
Odell was right about San Francisco. It was a wild, barking town ... a town where I had no trouble unbending and finding myself. The town really moves. It's full of swingers. Everybody's ready, willing and able ... especially the women. They had me going while I was coming. I discovered myself all right. Every day was a new revelation.
The first couple of weeks my mind was on the future, on the new vistas a career as an artist would surely lead to. I enrolled in an art class and tried to apply myself to the art assignments at hand, but the damn nude models kept getting in the way of my dedication. Staring at those luscious breasts, those rounded, fleshy, naked hips, creamy thighs and large rear ends, how could a guy like me concentrate on his sketching?
There was this one model, Cindy ... a redhead ... that made me feel the turgid demands of my manhood. I could hardly control myself looking at her smooth pink flesh, her huge breasts that were as rounded and ripe as melons and her tapering thighs. I had to keep thumping my thing with my finger to keep it subdued. Man, did I want to get her into action. But this creep ... this flower hippie from the Haight-Ashbury district showed up every afternoon after class to pick her up.
One afternoon the hippie didn't show up and I waited after class while she got dressed. When she came out from behind the curtain, she looked almost as good in her clothes as she did without them. She wore tight slacks, sandals, a sweater without a bra underneath and a dirty trench coat thrown over her shoulders. She wore very little make-up and her long red hair hung straight down her back.
"Can I see you home? I asked with a smile, turning on the charm full force.
"So what's home?" Cindy asked straight-faced and sober. She didn't possess the warmest personality in the world. "You mean the pad for the night?"
"I mean where do you live."
"Here, there, everywhere. I never know," she sighed wearily.
"Well, how about coming to my place then," I offered eagerly.
She paused and looked at me with such contempt. "Don't be square."
"Look, I didn't mean...."
She cut me off. "I know what you mean, and I know what you have in mind. Just cause I show off the flesh, doesn't mean I like to get pawed in a wrestling match." Then she smiled. "If you want to buy me a sandwich and a milk shake, that's another story. I love to eat on other people's money."
She insisted on going to this dump where all the hippies hang out. She knew everybody there. She stopped at every table to say "hello" to somebody and never bothered to introduce me. I was like a dog on a leash. It took forever before we got to a table in the corner. I had it all planned out what I was going to say to her, but she never stopped talking, for chrissake. Every other word was "gear,"
"fab", "camp" and "groovy". I believed she would never shut up.
Then she paused to study me for a while and I could feel my face turning red. This is something I never do with women. 'What's the matter?" I asked. "Is something wrong with my face?"
"I'm contemplating it," she replied.
"Is that good or bad?"
"It's good, your face I mean. You're quite handsome and I guess you know it."
I smiled cockily. "Well, I never get any complaints."
"I detest handsome men," she stated flatly. "Oh!"
"They're so within themselves. Dull! How old are you?"
"Twenty," I lied. I was only seventeen then.
"Where did you go to school?"
"U.C.L.A." I lied once again. "I was a dropout." It wouldn't do any good to tell her that I hadn't even finished high school.
'A lot of fags go to U.C.L.A., don't they?"
"I'm not one, if that's what you mean."
"I adore fags," Cindy said very sweetly. "They are so insecure and affectionate. I'm living with one now."
She could be maddening. "That hippie who picks you up all the time ... is that the one?" Cindy nodded. "Is he a fag?"
"He goes for you." Her words nearly knocked me off my chair. "That's why I'm here now. I promised him I'd get to know you. He likes the tall, dark type."
"Now, wait a minute, sweetheart," I blasted out.
"Don't blow your mind," she advised. "Keep an open mind."
"Thanks, but no thanks. I like girls too much."
"Henry's harmless," she explained. "He's a camera bug. He wants to photograph you."
"Tell him to get lost."
"Look, you want to go to bed with me, don't you?'
"Well, I ... I ... I dig your type," I stammered. "Would you?"
She shrugged. "Love is dead, so it wouldn't matter much. I might, if you'd consider posing for Henry."
"What's involved?"
"Just a couple of muscle shots ... give him a chance to look at you."
"Is that all?"
"Without a posing strap, of course."
"You mean stark naked?"
"Are you ashamed of something?"
"No, but. .,"
"So, you're a male. Henry's a male. What's the big secret?"
"Yeah, but Henry's a fag."
"I'll be there to watch over you ... and consider things."
"Like what?"
"It'll give me a chance to do a little window shopping for a lot of downtown business later on."
The way she said it was so sensuous, I thought I would erupt right there. This one really had me going.
Posing in the nude for a bunch of hippie queers is about the most far-out way I know of to get a girl in the sack. But there I was that evening in Henry's pad, taking my clothes off behind a screen and feeling like a virgin who was about to be raped. When I got there, Henry was alone.
Cindy hadn't arrived yet. And although Henry seemed kind of nervous about the situation, he didn't lay a hand on me or suggest anything other than posing before the camera. While I was undressing, he kept himself busy setting up his lights and equipment.
"Would you feel more at ease wearing a posing strap?" he asked me. This surprised me, because I expected Henry to be something more on the gay side. His manner, however, was forthright and business-like. "I've asked a few of my friends up, who are also camera bugs."
"In that case," I said from behind the screen, "I would feel better wearing something."
"It's only a bunch of guys coming over, mind you."
"Isn't Cindy going to be here?" I asked and held my breath waiting for the answer.
"Oh, yeah, she'll be here later."
"In that case, I think I better wear a strap, if you don't mind."
"Not at all," Henry said. "Large or small?"
I gulped. "Large! Do you have one?"
"All sizes," Henry replied. A moment later his arm came over the screen and handed me a posing strap.
Henry spent about fifteen minutes lighting me and posing me, before the other camera bugs arrived. The introductions were brief and informal, but I felt uneasy. They were burning holes through me with their eyes, as they set up their cameras. Still nothing gay was said and no advances were made. I began to wonder if Cindy had just been handing me a line about Henry being a fag. He certainly didn't look like one. He had a heavy beard. And he certainly didn't act or talk like one. He smoked a pipe incessantly.
Nevertheless I felt like a stupid fool standing up there on a small platform, flexing my muscles, sucking in my gut, spreading my legs. Now I was convinced, Cindy had been having some fun to amuse herself at my expense. I was ready to drop my load.
The camera clicking session lasted for about 45 minutes. They were getting a final pose with me all doubled over like the disc thrower when Cindy waltzed in. She looked me over critically from head to toe, appraising every muscle.
"Hey, you make a good subject," she said.
"Surprised?" I snapped.
"You look a lot better with your clothes off. You ought to give up painting and go in for modeling. You've got something to sell." All the camera bugs, including Henry agreed.
She made me mad. She was so damn sure of herself, but I had to have her. I could feel the blood rushing to my crotch. I was growing tense and rigid, expanding the posing strap. I had to do something to shock the hell out of her, if that was possible. The first impulse I had, I obeyed. I ripped off the posing strap and stood before the group in a spread eagle stance. "Do you guys want to get a few shots of me this way?"
Cindy stood there paralyzed, staring at me. Her mouth dropped open, but she was struck dumb. She couldn't believe her eyes.
"Wow, what is it?" one of the boys uttered.
"Superman, Charlie," another said.
They all started clicking their cameras. One of the guys even moved his camera in close. Cindy still stood there, as if she had been frozen. Finally when she snapped out of it, she appeared annoyed.
"All right, that's enough. All of you characters blow," she ordered. "You too, Henry ... out! I found him and I'm keeping him ... to myself."
"Don't be greedy, Cindy," one of the boys said. "There's enough there for everybody."
Cindy started kicking their equipment, pushing and shoving them out the door. Within a few minutes the pad was cleared of everybody but Cindy and me. For a while neither of us said a word. We just looked longingly at each other, searching each others eyes for a few answers.
Then Cindy said, "Where do they grow your kind?"
"Richfield," I replied, as I stepped down off the platform and started moving toward Cindy. The two of us must have made a funny sight with Cindy fully dressed in slacks and a trench coat and me bare assed as the day I was born.
She was breathing hard now and her face became flushed. I drew her to me, pressing my body as tight against hers as I could. As I did so, the trench coat she had draped over her shoulders dropped to the floor. I opened my mouth and placed it over hers. Immediately her tongue darted out to meet mine and her arms enfolded me in a tight bear hug as my hands slipped down over her rump and began to squeeze the flesh underneath her tight slacks.
After a moment she pulled back, looked up at me, the lights dancing in her big grey-green eyes, contemplating me with a wistful little smile.
A surge of passion swept through me like a forest fire. Once again I crushed her to me and devoured her luscious pink lips with my own. As I did so, my hand went to her hip and began to tug at the zipper on the side of her slacks. Cindy wiggled her ass and the slacks, that no longer fit snugly, fell loose and dropped to the girl's feet in a drape around her ankles. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, kicking backwards, until she was free of the slacks altogether.
I stood back to gaze upon her. She looked adorable with that long red hair falling loosely over her shoulders, clad only in a green cashmere sweater without a brassiere and very sheer pink panties. No garter belt, no hose or other things most girls consider essential. Cindy's legs and feet were bare. She often went barefoot. She was wild, like a child of nature.
Looking deep and meaningfully into her eyes, I held out my hand to her and led her to an unmade double size studio bed. Pressing my hands firmly on her shoulders, I guided her down onto the bed. I remained standing before her so that her head was level with my crotch. She kept staring between my legs as if she was hypnotized. Then her frail hand reached out and her delicate little fingers coiled around the trunk of my joint, but her fingers could not fit all the way around. "God," she sighed, "what a man!" She started stroking it gently as if it was some sort of ap idol that you could rub and make a wish on. I closed my eyes and threw my head back and let the sensation her touch created ripple through my body. After a bit, she withdrew her hand, presed her lips to my head, kissing the tip adoringly. Then she fell back upon the bed, spread her legs which were dangling over the side, and awaited my pleasure. It was an open invitation to do with her what I pleased.
Quickly, I pulled off her pink panties and discarded them, after which she elevated herself slightly off the mattress in order to peel her sweater over her head. Her beautiful, well-shaped breasts which I had gazed upon so many times in class, longing to touch, to kiss, were now mine to fondle and caress. With complete abandonment my hands began to probe and massage the sensitive areas of her body. As I did, my libido began to pyramid. Then, as I ran my forefinger down from her navel to the apex of her womanhood and began to poke her intimately, the action immediately brought forth a shocked gasp from her throat.
She squirmed on the bed, helplesly. She belonged to me for the moment. I was her master.
I knelt before her, wedging my hips between her spreading, dangling legs, and buried my face in her soft, furry mound, my darting tongue sending thrills of joy through her fleshy body.
She began to moan and whimper in a way that admitted her desperate need for sexual fulfillment. I realized there could not be too much playing around with this one. She was ready for a climax right now. I got off my knees and stood hovering over her, my rock-hard, throbbing joint poised above her crotch. I lifted her legs over the bend in my arms and was ready to charge forward, when I heard the floor squeak. Somebody was in the room with us.
I turned abruptly and saw Henry poised just behind me. His eyes were glistening. "Please, let me stay," he said in a very soft whisper. "I just want to watch."
I was now at an emotional and physical fever pitch of excitement. All would be lost, if I allowed myself to object or make a scene. This great moment of arousal might never be mine again. So I turned back to look down upon Cindy's squirming body and ignored Henry.
My hands went down to clutch the expansive fleshy cheeks of her buttocks, giving support to her hips; then I took careful aim and thrust myself forward, drilling my joint into the very heart of the girl. I was sure that she was going to cry out, but she didn't. She merely sighed with relief and pleasure, then brought her legs up over my shoulders and locked her ankles around my my neck.
Forcing her squirming body toward me, I began a slow, churning rhythm. Cindy expertly matched my pace until she was rearing against me with reckless abandon, all the while hoarsely intoning a hymn to Apollo.
She followed me bodily as I rapidly increased my tempo, my hands still clutching tightly to her ass. As we climbed to indescribable heights of joy, she took a cue from me and let her fingers wander around my hips to my rear end. Her forefinger began to wander with an outrageous lack of constraint. At first I was shocked when I felt the slight pain of Cindy's forbidden exploring but the unforciful jabbing and probing of her middle finger only heightened my wild excitement.
The sensation was overwhelming, but I soon discovered a way in which sensation could be heaped upon sensation. It was a light tickling in my testicles. What a sensation that was and I soon discovered it was produced by Henry's sturdy fingers caressing the dangling scrotum, all the time I'm in the act of having intercourse, mind you. Wow! I really took off.
Grunting throatily, I brought Cindy to the peak of passionate pleasure. I could feel the soft bulk of her frame shiver spasmodically as I exploded again and again. It was one helluva bolero between two people, with a third member playing lightly on the flute.
Cindy's hands flared up to her temples, her fingers pulling at her red hair, her head rocking from side to side, as she screamed out like some poor soul lost in purgatory.
An instant later we rode a toboggan down an incredible mountainside to lie back expended and gasping in the valley below. We lay in exhausted silence for a long while. Even poor Henry was emotionally shaken.
Finally Cindy declared, "You're the greatest, Archer. The world must know."
Elated, Henry suggested. "Let's have something to drink. I have a bottle of vodka." Somehow he seemed to share our fulfillment. I guess you could call a guy like that a voyeur. He got his kicks out of just watching. But I can tell you this, there have been many times since then when I've been in the act of humping a broad and wished I had old Henry around to do a little flute playing with his fingers on the scrotum. Try it sometime. You'll never be the same again.
Henry padded across the squeaky floor to get the bottle of vodka. He filled three glasses to the top, straight and without ice. Then the three of us held up our glasses in a silent toast. For the rest of the night we sat around naked, gulping vodka without ice, smoking pot and listening to some real groovy records.
CHAPTER THREE
SHE WAS IN NEED OF IMMEDIATE SERVICE....
That was my existence for the next two years. Cindy was a regular once a week, but during those two years while I was studying art and being sponsored by Odell Brown, I guess I had every available hippie broad in the Haight-Ashbury district. And some nights when I felt generous I laid back for a few of the guys. That doesn't mean to say all male hippies are homosexuals, although there are quite a few, but free love and sexual abandonment is the key to the hippie-digger philosophy ... and when you're floating out on clouds, high on pot, it doesn't seem to matter who gets you or who you get, as long as you get your kicks.
By the time I reached twenty one, my attitudes changed considerably, probably because of the forced change in my existence ... but nevertheless I stepped out of one life and into another. After two years of studying, I had painted seventeen canvasses. Odell drove into San Francisco to view my progress and determine if my talent was worthy of his continued sponsorship. He had just written a sizzling novel that hit the best seller list. He was not only in the chips, but in a very giving mood. He was also in love at this point with a girl back in Richfield and was engaged to marry her. The wedding was to be in a month and they planned on honeymooning in Europe. So you can see why Odell had a lot of other things on his mind more important to him than my welfare.
As I have explained before, Odell always leveled with me and he didn't mix words when he gave his opinion of my work. "You're style is still there, kid," he essayed, "but frankly, I don't see much progress. Your stuff is still flat and one-dimensional. What have you been doing for two years?"
"Oh, I don't say you haven't made an effort ... but every canvas has an obsession with sex. There's no variation."
This made me mad. "Well, what about your novels, Odell?"
"True," he agreed. "Sex is an inherent part of life, but it's motivated. Your paintings appear to be sex subjects for the sake of sex. You seem to be motivated by nothing more than hot pants. Haven't you settled down yet? Or is that joint of yours still out in front?"
"Okay, the hell with it," I flared. "So you don't like what I've done. All I know is that I've painted what I felt."
"Don't get sore, kid. I'm just voicing my opinion. Look, why don't we get a few more opinions before deciding your future? Tell you what we'll do. I'll arrange for you to have a showing. If you sell one canvas, I'll continue to sponsor your art studies."
I agreed.
Needless to say, the showing was a flop. I not only didn't sell a canvas, the art critics came, stayed briefly and left. My work didn't even rate a review or a critical appraisal ... not even a mention in the papers.
Odell had returned to Richfield to prepare for his wedding, but I wrote him and gave him a truthful report. I couldn't deceive him. He had been too good a friend to me. Odell wrote back suggesting that I go to night school and get my higli school diploma. If I would do this, he said he would sponsor my college education.
Hell, I couldn't see myself going back to high school for a year ... getting a job by day. going to school at night. I was twenty-one! By the time I got through college, I'd be twenty-five or six, well on the way to middle age. Besides, with all the beautiful unattaced women floating around Frisco, the only homework I wanted to do was in the sack.
I answered Odell, declining his offer, explaining that I wanted to try things on my own, without his help. I congratulated him on his forthcoming marriage, expressed a wish to receive a postcard or two from him in Europe and let it go at that.
This meant I had to get out and find myself a job of some kind. I was discouraged with my painting, and the hippie existence of free love and giving it away, even if I was King Rat of the tribe, seemed to me to be dull and sort of childish. I guess this was all part of my growing up. It was a good thing for a while, but like everything else, all good things come to an end.
That winter I went to a training school for the phone company, and came out a phone installer. One afternoon I read a notice in the paper about job opportunities and good pay with the phone company, and I applied. When they told me they would pay me while I was training for six months, I went for the deal. I had nothing to lose. I'd try it for a while, and if I didn't like the work, I'd walk out.
It took me six months of training and about a month on the job before I realized that phone installers install more than just phones. Phone installers can get a piece every day without half trying. It's crazy, but it's true. For a guy like me, a job that offers the side benefits of a free roll in the hay while on duty, is almost too good to be true. But there I was, six months later, installing phones and installing my joint into almost every broad I came in contact with. Most of the homes and apartments I went into during the day hours between eight and five, the husband was at work and the children were at school or at play. It was a perfect setup.
It takes a while to catch on to the rules of the game, but once you do, it's clear sailing. The important thing is to come away from a job with a tip and another off-duty appointment for the weekend. This is how I made all my money.
I can't begin to tell you in brief the ways and means women used to put the pressure on me to service them as well as their phones.
Sometimes when I arrived, a few women would be undressed ... you know, wearing a robe or a sloppy housecoat. But most of the time, the women were fully dressed. They'd see me, chat a bit while they sized me up and then go immediately into their bedrooms to change into a robe. When they came back out, they'd generally ask me if I'd had breakfast or lunch, or sometimes bring me a cup of coffee. All these little tricks were open invitations. I could accept 'em or reject 'em.
Occasionally I'd get a few dogs. You know the kind I mean? The kind that turn you off more than they turn you on. Some of the old, desperate ones I'd lay out of pity. At first I felt sorry for them, but then I discovered that these were the ones that gave the big fat tips. So actually I looked forward to them all ... the young ones, the old ones, the thin ones and the fat ones. They were all an experience. If I did happen to come in contact with one that really turned me off, and that one happened to make an overture, I'd explain that I was married and had a couple of kids. If they still insisted, then my excuse not to lay them was that fornicating the customer was strictly against company policy.
If they still insisted or started falling all over me, then I told them that everything they said was being recorded through my little walkie-talkie, that the company liked to know what the installers were doing all the time.
Accommodating the phone company customers became a daily ritual with me. In an average day, I'd service at least two and sometimes three. I'd devote about twenty minutes to a half hour to satisfy each of them, depending on how big a tip I thought I might get out of them. When I worked on Saturdays, which I did frequently, then the phone company paid me time and a half. Being an installer, the word incidentally is a joke with the phone company employees, I really started making some money, building up a good bank account, getting myself some descent clothes and a modern apartment with all the accessories.
If you ask me what was my most interesting experience, I'd have to say it was Mrs. K-, a rich matron, who lived in a penthouse apartment up on Nob Hill. It was about five o'clock on a Friday. I was just getting ready to knock off for the day, when the company phoned me and asked me to take care of an emergency for a very politically important customer. The phone cord had been yanked out from the wall. This meant that a kid had pulled it from the wall, or a jealous wife or husband had ripped it out during a heated argument. The company said they'd pay me overtime, so I jotted down the address and then took my time driving over there.
When I saw how luxurious the building was, I really perked up. If I really turned on the charm, it might mean a healthy tip. I'd only serviced one other woman that day, and I still had plenty of get-up and go. The only discouraging aspect was the hour. Any time after five, I could expect the husband to be arriving home, which made a personal contact impossible. But I was getting overtime and the job would only take a half hour at the most.
Mrs. K-answered the door herself. This in itself was a bit of a surprise to me, because at such a swanky address I was prepared to be greeted by a maid or a butler.
She appeared to be annoyed when she opened the door. "Yeah, what do you want?"
"I'm from the phone company," I said.
She looked me up and down and her attitude changed from being annoyed to being fascinated.
"Oh, yes," she smiled. "Come in. It's been out of order all day." She was a good-looking woman of about forty. She had platinum hair, and a well made-up face. Her features were very good, almost beautiful, her legs were exceedingly shapely and she knew it. Wearing a glamorous rose-colored chiffon negligee that bordered on being transparent, and gold stiletto heels, at first glance she was a knockout.
Her fingers were long and tapered, her nails long and lacquered. On one finger she wore an enormous diamond that kept flashing in my eyes.
It was almost hypnotic. In one hand she held a martini glass and between the fingers of her other hand, she puffed nervously on a gold tipped cigarette.
She was my kind of older woman. "Are you Mrs. K-?" I asked.
"No, darling, I'm the babysitter," she chuckled.
"I didn't think that, ma'am," I flushed. "I was just making sure I had the right house."
"My dear boy, I said I was out of order," she rattled on, as she led the way through the living room into the study. She" crossed to the desk and held up the long, detached extension cord. "As you can see, I'm desperately in need of immediate service."
I didn't know if she meant that two ways, but I couldn't restrain a smile.
"What's so amusing?" she asked.
"A ... nothing," I stammered, stealing glances at her that were knowing, meaningful and pointed.
Instinctively, Mrs. K-drew her negligee closer about her. She was hep! She knew I was glancing at the deep shadows between her breasts. She had deliberately allowed them to be visible for a few moments. I removed my leather jacket and tossed it in one of the handsomely upholstered armchairs. I was wearing a tight fitting T-shirt and blue tapered levis. Don't think she didn't pause to appraise my expansive chest, my sunken rig-cage and my bulging biceps. I had devoted many Sundays to my physical development, and now it was beginning to pay off.
"Do you want the phone in the same place?" I inquired.
Mrs. K-sighed and-took a deep drag on her gold-tipped cigarette. "I suppose so," she answered wearily.
"How did it get pulled out of the wall?" I gave her another glance that said I knew.
She exploded with a throaty laugh. "That's a long, dreary tale that is best explained over several drinks. Would you care for one?"
There it was! The open invitation, only cocktails instead of coffee this time. I glanced up from my tool kit and gave her one of my most winning smiles that showed all my teeth. "I think you might make a wicked martini, and I do like wicked ones, but what about your husband? Isn't he expected home soon?"
"What if he is?," she questioned.
"Well, he might not like it," I explained.
"It wouldn't make any difference if he did. This is my apartment. Not his. But if you'll feel more at ease, my husband's out of town."
"What about your kids?"
"I don't own any goats, darling."
"I mean children."
"I don't own any children," she chuckled. "Do you have any more calls to make?"
"No," I admitted. "This is my last call for the day."
"So, relax, and I'll make you a very, very dry martini."
"Thank you, ma'am."
"And please, don't call me ma'am," she objected.
Moving towards the bar, she brushed past me and let her negligee fly open, and in a flashing glance I saw the soft slopes of her thighs, the jutting hip bones, and the forbidden thatch. It stunned me a bit that she was just one stitch of clothing from being naked. A tight feeling in the pit of my stomach made me want this bitch in the worst way. She symbolized lewd sensuality.
While I was making a cable connection under the wall molding, she returned with a double-size martini op the rocks. I was down on the floor and she had to bend over to hand it to me. Her negligee parted and I found myself looking at her bare legs, her perfumed crotch, the soft powdered mounds of her belly, and the largest, heavy-hanging breasts I'd seen in some time. Wow! They were like pink basketballs. I laughed nervously as I accepted the martini, because she wasn't making any pretense at being modest now. Brazenly, she ignored the garment being open.
My heart began to pound. Already I felt aroused, like some savage animal that had been caged for a year. "I guess you're kind of lonely being left at home alone," I said.
"Darling, you have no idea how lonely it can be ... even when my husband's here." She started pacing back and forth now, and I became aware of her own mounting tension. She lighted another cigarette, then turned to consider me. "Why don't you let that wiring go for the moment, relax and enjoy your drink?"
"Thanks," I said as I leaped up off the floor with my tool kit. "Where can I put this so it won't be in the way?"
"What's that, darling?"
"My tool kit. I wouldn't want you to trip over it."
She burst into a husky laugh. "Don't worry about your tools, darling. If I trip over it, I'll be gentle. She was staring at the bulge in my pants. I knew exactly what she meant. "The tool kit, I mean."
"Pardon me, Mrs. K-, but are you aware that your negligee is opened?"
"Does it bother you?" She made no effort to close it.
I shrugged. "Well, I'm not exactly made of nuts and bolts."
She found that quite amusing. She took a sip of her martini, then said. "Now let me ask a question that's bothering me. Are those your own down there between your legs, or is it padding?"
I had never been so dumbfounded. The remark was so direct. For the first time, I felt self-conscious. I didn't know how to answer her.
"I can always find out for myself," she continued, "if it embarrasses you to answer." She let her hand brush across my basket. "Mmmm, it's all yours, isn't it?"
"Yeah," I gulped.
Then her expression changed. It hardened, bordering on savage lust. She threw her negligee wide open and looked deep into my eyes. "There's no padding on me either," she whispered solemnly.
"So I noticed ... earlier." I took a short intake of breath without casting my eyes down at her naked body. I just kept staring back at her. She had the bluest eyes I have ever seen, the reddest, fullest, most sensuous lips. I had to resist the desire to bite into them. Instead, I seized her arms roughly, and a second later her sharp point-breasts were pressed flat against my chest.
I moved so quickly, she had no time to resist. She was jerked off balance, her head was tossed back and her mouth was forced open. I pressed my mouth down over hers and let her know exactly how demanding and greedy I could be. Her tongue was thick and hot and moist. It had a deadly power of its own. All the while I was kissing her, my hands were exploring the slope of her back, going down lower, then palming the well-shaped mounds of her bottom. She was several handfuls.
When we parted, only for an intake of air, her blue eyes were filmy, and she wobbled a bit as if she was dizzy. My mind was racing a mile a minute and I acted on pure impulse based upon my lust. My fingers took hold of her negligee and ripped it from her milky white body. She was startled at the abrupt way in which she had been denuded.
She instinctively brought both her thighs together to protect her exposed womanly treasure. That almost made me laugh. If this broad had as many sticking out of her as she had had poked into her, she would have looked like a pin cushion.
"Hey, you're really built," I commented, as I fingered her breasts until her nipples were like hard acorns. When I poked my finger in her socket-like navel, it sent sparks through her entire system. She didn't seem to object, so I manhandled her a bit more. I think maybe she got a certain perverse satisfaction out of it. I twirled her around to view her from behind, and squeezed her buttocks until she released a little yelp.
"Hey, take it easy," she complained. "I'm not a rag doll."
In those luxurious surroundings, I felt resentful, envious. This made me daring and ruthless. I gulped down my drink, then crossed to the bar and poured myself another ... straight gin on the rocks. She stood in the center of the room, stark naked, glaring at me.
"Just help yourself," she sneered.
"I just did."
"Look, who the hell do you think you are?"
"I'm me, that's who. Archer Nelson!" I announced, as I swaggered back to her.
She forced another husky, throaty laugh. "That's as phony a name as I've ever head. Are you sure you're the service man from the phone company?"
"Try me out," I dared her. "I'll give you the best servicing you've ever had."
"Why, you smug son of a bitch," she said acidly, as she swung her arm out. and forward, smacking me across the face.
I saw red. Without hesitation, I gave her a stinging blow in return. This really knocked the wind out of her. She had had a few drinks and wasn't too steady on her feet anyway. Now she was less sure of herself than before. I yanked upwards on my T-shirt and pulled it off over my head. Bare-chested, I spread my legs apart and ordered, "Okay, honey, now you do the rest." She looked at me questioningly. "Come on," I demanded. "Take off my levis. Loosen my belt."
Numbly, she obeyed. Without objecting to my request, she undid my belt buckle. She was afraid of me now. My levis came loose at the waist. "All the way," I demanded. I didn't have a zipper on my fly, just buttons, so each time she unthumbed a button, her hands came in closer contact with my joint, which was twitching with anxiety. As she pulled my levis down over my butt, she became terrified.
"My God, you're like a bull!" She was eager and frightened at the same time. She came up from her kneeling position as I kicked off my levis. (I never wore jockey shorts on the job. It made a better impression on the ladies, seeing my basket outlined underneath my tight fitting levis.)
Mrs. K-backed up, until she reached the fireplace, then eased her lithe body down upon a tiger-skin rug. She rolled over on her lean velvety-textured stomach, exposing her naked backside, then glanced pleadingly at me over her bare shoulders. Her eyes telegraphed her message. I thought to myself, if that's the way she wants it, who am I to deny the lady.
I crossed to her, my joint swinging brazenly. I stood over her, by legs positioned on each side of her hips. A moment or two later, I was straddling her bareback, beating her like a horse with my own built-in crop, the thing I was born with. I wondered if I was going too far with her, but she offered no objections, didn't rear or buck once. I bent over and grabbed the fleshy cheeks of her backsides. She had a plump, firm rear, let me tell you, that was easy to spread. She groaned seductively, burying her face in her arms, so that her head did not touch the rug. I know I must have given her one helluva jolt as I stretched out flat, my stomach pressed firmly against her back and stabbed into her groin.
She seemed at first to relax, but a second or two later a lance of pain ripped through her body. She was seized with a sensation of being pierced. I kept this up for about fifteen minutes, battering her like an angry ram, slamming my body against her flesh. Because we were on the hard surface of the floor and not a bed, there was no give or bounce to her body. She choked up, her hands flew out from under her and her long, manicured nails dug into the tiger skin rug.
She pleaded with me to stop, and when I let up slightly, she begged me to go on. Her body quickly became drenched in perspiration, but I knew I was relieving her tensions, bringing a blessed release to the sexual urge that had probably been tormenting her for days. Quite obviously, she was not getting what she wanted from her husband ... if anything at all.
Then, I got carried away with the ecstasy of the moment and slammed against her sc roughly, burying my weapon so deeply into her, she screamed out. I cocked my head to one side of her and noticed that her large beautiful breasts were crushed against the furry rug. By the time I achieved satisfaction, she was limp and expended, in a state close to unconsciousness. I twitched from the spasm I was having for what seemed like an eternity and I myself collapsed over her. I was so exhausted I could not even force my body to break our contact. Only my hoarse, heavy breathing broke through the silence.
Eventually Mrs. K glanced at me over her shoulder. Her eyes were a vale of tears. "Please, get off me now. You're very heavy."
I obliged by rolling off her and sprawling out on my back beside her. She ran her long, tapered fingers over my chest and stomach. My body was glazed with perspiration. "Go into my bedroom, darling, and help yourself to a shower," she offered. "I'll make us both another drink."
About five minutes later she joined me in her large luxurious bathroom, like the kind they have in the movies that don't look like bathrooms at all. She brought two drinks with her. I had just showered in an elegant glass enclosure and was toweling myself dry. "Don't dry off yet," she requested as she drew steaming water from the tap in her sunken bathtub that was like a miniature pool.
We soaked together in her bathtub for about an hour, playing around with each other like a couple of silly, giggling kids. I had one of her breasts in my mouth; when the door to her bathroom burst open. A grey-haired man in his fifties drunkenly clumped into the room and stood swaying in the middle of the floor, surveying us Wearily, his eyes puffy and bloodshot.
"Oh, God," Mrs. K. sighed. "What are you doing back in town?" Then very casually introduced her husband.
I leaped up out of the tub and stood stark naked ready to be attacked by an enraged drunken husband. Instead he smiled and looked me over, approving what he saw.
"At ease," he ordered lightly, then turned swayingly toward his wife who remained in the tub. "Looks like you got yourself a big one this time," he commented. He hiccuped once, then turned on his heels and staggered out of the bathroom.
CHAPTER FOUR
A DELICATE HAND REACHED INSIDE MY PAJAMAS
You aren't going to believe this, I know but I spent a delightful weekend with Mrs. K-and her husband. We never left the apartment, and once Mr. K-sobered up, he was charming and hospitable, always making sure I had a fresh drink. He couldn't have been nicer. Mrs. K-was the one who seemed annoyed by his presence, although she made no comment about it.
I went to bed with Mrs. K-in her bedroom, and Mr. K-slept in the guest room. Twice during that Friday night, Mrs. K-and I made it, except I was a bit edgy about the situation that first night. I surmised that Mr. K-must be a voyeur like Henry, and any moment I expected him to waltz into his wife's bedroom pull up a chair and watch me in action. But this never happened, not quite like that anyway.
Mr. K's first name was Corey. That was his nickname. Mrs. K's nickname was Jeri, probably short for Geraldine. All day Saturday and Saturday night, Corey never once intruded on our love-making, and he never ceased to be cordial. In fact, he seemed more delighted I was there than Jeri, who seemed to get a little bored with me after the second day. She was that kind of a broad. Once she got a bellyful, she lost interest and reverted back to the self-centered bitch she really was.
Sunday morning before breakfast, Corey invited me to join him on the terrace for Bloody Marys. This was before Jeri got up. She was a late sleeper, the kind of woman who really doesn't start clicking until about four or five o'clock in the afternoon. That Sunday morning and afternoon, I spent most of the day talking to Corey. He was a helluva nice guy when he was sober.
"I think you've finally managed to wear Jeri out," he commented. "I'm sorry," I said.
"No, my boy, that's good. She's needed somebody like you for a long time. She's a very high-strung, emotional woman, as you have no doubt discovered. It's impossible for me to meet Jeri's physical demands."
"She's some woman," I offered, for the want of something better to say.
"We're both very delighted to have you here," Corey returned. "I hope we don't lose track of you."
Inasmuch as he was laying it right on the line, I took the liberty to ask him a question that had been puzzling me. "Tell me, sir, if I'm getting too personal, but are you and your wife happily married?"
Corey smiled. "What's your opinion?"
"I don't know. You're both so charming to each other, it's confusing."
"We're both trapped," Corey went on to explain. "I'm in public office and we can't get a divorce until I retire which won't be for quite a few years yet. Jeri and I try to make the best of a bad deal. We have a house in the suburbs, where I live most of the time. Jeri has this apartment to come to for her little escapades. Sometimes we get on each others nerves and have violent arguments ... like the other night. We were both drunk. Jeri said some pretty rotten things to me, and then went to the phone to call a friend. I got mad and ripped out the phone. You see we can't afford to let any of our friends in on our situation."
"I see," I uttered. "Well, that helps a lot. Thanks for explaining it to me."
"You're involved now," Corey reminded me. "You have a right to know."
"Has Jeri ever threatened to leave you?" I asked.
Corey started laughing. "She does regularly about once a month ... but she never will. I make too much money. When she was in show business, she never had all she has now. And like any woman, she enjoys the role of being married to an imporatant public figure."
I was dying to ask Corey what he did, but he never said and I never dared to ask. To this day, I honestly don't know what he does. His public life couldn't have been very public, because I never saw anything in the papers about him.
"I suppose things might be different, if we had a child. We both wanted one, but it never happened. Now it's too late."
"Oh, I don't know. They have so many aids for that sort of thing now."
"Jeri's all right. She's still young enough. I'm the one that's burned out," he admitted. "Although having a young stud like you around has psychologically had a lifting affect on me. I felt somewhat recharged this morning."
"I'm glad."
Maybe you could be of help, my boy."
How's that?" I said, and braced myself by gulping nervously at my Bloody Mary.
"No, forget it," he returned. "It wouldn't work. Jeri, I'm sure, wouldn't go for the idea."
With that the subject dropped and turned to other matters. But later on in the day, after Jeri got up and started clicking during the cocktail hour, Corey was involved in several private discussions with his wife that I was excluded from. I began to feel uneasy again. No telling what these two might be cooking up. Just before we sat down to dinner that evening, Corey took me to one side.
"Jeri has a proposal to make to you, my boy," he said quite patronizingly.
"What's that?"
"She'll tell you herself ... after dinner. I would appreciate it if you would consider it. It might make a great difference between us."
All through dinner, weird thoughts and ideas kept racing through my mind. It had been a long and exhausting weekend. Monday morning I had to be on the job early, so I decided to excuse myself right after dinner and get the hell out of there. I planned to make my farewell known during an after dinner brandy, but before I got to it, Jeri tugged at my arm and pulled me off into the bedroom.
"Corey wants to sit in with us while you make love to me," she announced. "Would you mind terribly?"
"Well, I ... I don't know. How do you feel about it, Jeri?"
"I don't care. I do feel sorry for him. He said it might help to get him worked up, if he watched you in action. You can be "sure, Archer, if you agree, he'll pay you handsomely for the privilege."
That did it. I saw those dollar signs and readily agreed. After all, I had nothing to lose. I had already discovered that I didn't get inhibited with somebody watching.
"When does he want us to do this for him?" I asked.
"As soon as possible," was her answer. "Before he has too much to drink and before it gets too late."
Forty-five minutes later found the three of us stark naked together on Jeri's bed, with all the lights turned on for Corey to observe all that we did. Having an audience somehow turned us on. Jeri got hotter than the Chicago fire and I plowed into her with the renewed energy and enthusiasm. Corey lay on the bed, his head resting near our hips. In this position he could observe everything we did in close detail.
While I pounded away at my task, counting the dollars with every thrust into Jeri, I glanced over at Corey. He had a pleased, satisfied expression on his rounded, aging face. He was sweating almost as bodly as I was, and his eyes were glistening with untrammeled lust. He had his hand between his legs and was fondling himself. In so doing, he had managed to get an erection.
"How are you doing?" he whispered to me.
"Okay," I grunted between breaths. "I think we're going to climax any moment."
"I'm almost at that point too," he announced. "When you think you're ready, my boy, pull out as quickly as you can."
So that was the deal. I didn't know whether I could. Generally as I gain momentum, I can't stop. I was gasping now. Jeri was moaning from the pleasurable agony, and had her nails dug deep into the flesh on my back.
"I don't know, if I can," I choked out to Corey. "What's it worth, if I can?"
"Name your price," he said strained and eager.
Just before I was ready to explode into a thousand pieces, I pulled out as quickly as I could and rolled off of Jeri. The abruptness of my withdrawal forced Jeri to gasp. Her husband took my place and brought his wife to a cilmax, while I played the cast-off lover, erupting all over the satin sheets with my uncontrollable, throbbing weapon in my hand.
Degrading? Of course it was. I felt like a useless piece of machinery that had just gone on the fritz. But compensated I was. When I walked out of that apartment that evening with a check for five hundred bucks in my pocket, I didn't feel to degraded anymore. My bank balance was growing and that gave me a great sense of independence.
* * * *
There was another unusual experience I had while on the job as a phone installer. Financially, it paid off even better, although emotionally it was shattering, and physically, forget about it, Charlie. It was almost my undoing, putting me in the hospital for several weeks. Nevertheless, I think you might get a kick out of hearing about it.
It was my first call out, early one Wednesday morning. It was a new installation, which meant a new apartment with the customer just moving in. This also meant unsettled conditions and confusion. Sometimes it was a bare apartment with the paint still wet on the walls, the furniture being moved in, or no furniture at all. No bed or sofa spelled out the dim possibility of a prospect.
The prospect was indeed dim: a newly wed couple in an empty apartment with one lousey trunk, a few suitcases and a donated mattress on the floor in the bedroom. Can you imagine anything duller than that. Newly weds! Ugh! They turn me off.
The young bleary-eyed bridegroom answered the door barefoot with only a new satin dressing gown, obviously a wedding gift, draped over his nakedness. It was eight in the morning. Apparently he had had a hard night.
"Yeah," he mumbled.
"Phone company," I announced cheerfully.
"Oh ... oh, we're not up yet."
"If I don't install the phone now, I won't be able to come back until tomorrow."
"You better do it now," he decided. "Come on in."
He opened the door wide and allowed me to enter the vacant living room. As I did so, I stumbled over an empty champagne bottle sitting in the middle of the floor.
"We just moved in," he explained unnecessarily. "Last night was our honeymoon night."
"Congratulations," I said, my tone business-like and unfeeling. "Where would you like the phone?"
"Oh, gee, I don't know. My wife should decide that, but she's still sleeping. I hate to disturb her. We were up until about five this morning."
"You must be dead," I commented. "I am. Where do you suggest we put the phone?"
"If you're not having an extension in the bedroom, the most convenient place would be in the hallway, between the bedroom and the living room."
"Makes sense. Why don't you put it there ... in the hallway."
"Okay." I crossed to the hallway with my tool kit, opened it and prepared to drill a hole in the base-board.
"Try to keep the noise down, huh!" the stupid jerk cautioned. "My wife's in the bedroom."
"Sure ... sure."
The young groom staggered into the small kitchen and returned a moment later. "Hey, Joe, would you like a cup of coffee. It's instant."
This broke me up. Getting the coffee routine from a newlywed husband in a bathrobe was a new one. Of course, he meant it sincerely, not realizing the insinuation implied something amusing. I apologized for laughing and told him that I'd like a cup of instant coffee very much. I know he was puzzled, but he said nothing and disappeared back into the kitchen. I heard him turning on the faucet and filling a pan, but I didn't hear him turn off the faucet. The water continued running. This was followed by some spasmodic pounding and then he reappeared, more puzzled than ever.
"I can't turn off the tap," he informed me. "Do you know anything about plumbing?"
Admitting that I knew enough to turn faucets on and off, I agreed to take a look at it. I went into the kitchen and discovered for myself that it was impossible to turn off the faucet. I deduced that it was simply a matter of a new washer.
"Do you have a washer?"
"We don't have anything. We just moved in."
"So you told me. Well, if you run down to the hardware store to get one, I can fix it. I have the tools necessary. Just get a washer."
"Okay," he agreed. "I'll have to get dressed."
"If you could do it quickly," I said, "it would help. I've got a full day of installations to make. In the meantime, I'll see about shutting off the main water valve."
"I think it's under the sink." He started to leave the kitchen, then turned back. "I'll pay you for this, of course."
"Of course," I confirmed.
While he went into the bathroom to get dressed, I boiled the water and made myself a cup of instant coffee. He returned quickly to announce that he would be right back and that he would pick up some groceries while he was at it.
"I trust you'd like some breakfast," he added.
"Yes, I could eat something." Once again he started out and this time I stopped him. "Oh, wait a minute. Do you have something I could put on ... something you don't mind getting wet? I may have to drain the pipe."
He hesitated, then announced he had just the thing. He ran into the bathroom and returned a second later with his pajamas. "Do you mind wearing my pajamas?"
"Not if you don't. Where can I change?"
"In here's okay."
I shrugged. If the young husband was not concerned about me removing my clothes in the kitchen, I wasn't going to worry about it. What a jerk! Leaving a stranger in the apartment with a new wife asleep in the bedroom, is taking a chance you must admit. As soon as I heard the front door close and I knew that he had left, I removed my jacket and T-shirt, then slipped out of my levis. I have explained before that I never wear jockey shorts on the job. So there I was for less than a minute stark naked in the kitchen. I thought about the young wife in the bedroom waking up and coming out to find a naked stranger in her kitchen.
That would have been a crazy situation. I also thought about wandering into the bedroom and having a peek at the wife. The husband would be gone for at least fifteen or twenty minutes. Those were dangerous thoughts, I told myself, and I immediately dismissed them. If the young wife panicked, It would not only cost me my job, but it could mean a jail sentence. I was curious, however, to see what kind of a girl that jerk of a husband had married.
Quickly, I changed into the husband's pajamas, grabbed the pliers out of my tool kit and crawled under the sink. The sooner I got involved in a job, the sooner I would forget about the wild potential the situation offered. Just thinking about it made me horny.
The sink was enclosed in a cabinet, hiding the pipes and the central water valve. The previous tenant had undoubtedly had trouble with the sink, because I found a bucket underneath a leaky pipe. I shut off the main valve, and it was while I was in the process of opening the pipe to drain the water that I thought I heard somebody enter the kitchen. I thought about the wife and for a second my heart jumped into my mouth. Any moment, I told myself, she would start screaming bloody murder. Mind you I was concealed from the waist up inside the cabinet under the sink. I was flat on my back with only my sprawling legs protruding over the kitchen floor. In order to see who was in the kitchen, I would have had to crawl out from under the sink. When I didn't hear any reaction to my presence, I surmised that the husband had returned. I went on with my work, remaining under the sink until the pipe was drained. I heard continuous movement in the kitchen, but I disregarded it. It had to be the husband. Then it happened!
Without any warning I felt myself being groped. A delicate hand was reaching into the pajamas I wore and fondling my penis. I became paralyzed and speechless. It couldn't be the husband, I reasoned. It just couldn't be. It had to be the wife. As I explained, I was horny to begin with that morning, and when the hand tugged at my joint and pulled it outside of the pajama bottoms, I immediately got an erection.
Then I heard a soft feminine voice purr, "Oh, Melvin, you should have left the lights on last night and let me see." There was a sigh, then the voice added, "I'll fix you."
The next moment I felt a tremendous resurgence of power, as warm lips enveloped the head of my joint. Lust surged through me like a white-hot flame. I felt the weight of a bobbing head and grabbed the leaking pipe to steady myself. I wanted to say, "I'm not your husband," but the words would not come out. I was over powered by the draining, pulling sensation. My heart must have been pounding like a pneumatic drill. I kept telling Thyself, "Let her continue for a few seconds longer, and then announce yourself." But the seconds stretched out into minutes, and I felt myself reaching an explosive peak.
Those warm hungry lips took more and more, devouring every inch, then I felt my thing being sucked down a gullet. It was like being drawn into a whirlpool. The drawing sensation is almost unbearable. I reared up and cracked my skull on the bottom of the sink. I felt myself growing dizzy, I groaned and then blacked out .
That's all I remember actually. When I regained consciousness, I was in the hospital and a doctor and nurse were hovering over me.
"He's coming around," the doctor announced.
"Oh, thank God," a young woman's sobbing voice stated. I turned my head to one side and when my eyes came into focus I saw the bridegroom and his tearful, almost hysterical wife looking on with grave concern.
"What happened?" I groaned.
"Just lie still," the doctor ordered. "Don't try to talk now. You've had a head concussion, but you'll be all right."
The young wife broke down, sobbing with relief. "I thought we might have killed him," she cried.
She was immediately ushered out of the private room by the nurse. The husband remained to talk to the doctor.
"Give him whatever he needs," I heard him say to the doctor. "I don't care what it costs."
Then I passed out again.
Early that evening, when I was fully conscious and able to talk, the young husband returned, and explained what had happened.
When I hit my head on the sink and blacked out, Melvin's wife tugged at my legs and managed to pull me out from under the sink. When she discovered that I was not her husband, she fainted, her body collapsing over mine. In her effort to get me out from under the sink, she had pulled at my legs with such force she had also pulled off the pajama bottoms. Melvin returned and found us in that state-me naked from the waist down and his wife sprawled over me, both of us unconscious.
Melvin concluded that I had attempted to rape his wife, that there had been a struggle and we had both been thrown to the kitchen floor and knocked out. I started to rally before his wife and in a state of confused panic, Melvin struck me over the head with a frying pan, which is what caused the concussion. Later, when Melvin's wife came to, and explained what had happened as best she could, Melvin called an ambulance and rushed me to the hospital.
"I can't tell you how sorry we are," Melvin offered. "I just hope we can keep the police out of it. Sally and I wouldn't want her parents to know anything about this. Poor kid, she feels terrible over what happened."
I placed a hand on my bandaged head and said, "She's not alone. How do you suppose I feel?"
"Please, don't concern yourself about the hospital expenses. I'll take care of everything," Melvin assured me.
"A big help that is," I replied. "I work for the phone company. I have complete hospitalization. What worries me is how long am I going to be laid up here. How many weeks am I going to be knocked out of work."
"I'll make some kind of restitution, I promise," Melvin said. "Whatever you think is fair, just so long as we can keep this unfortunate mishap to ourselves."
Melvin had an automobile dealership and was financially well-heeled. So for a crack on the head and a delightful sexual interlude, I got a thousand dollars in cash and the gift of a new automobile. My stay in the hospital also had its compensations. Within a couple of days I was feeling myself again, and managed to charm three lovely private nurses into servicing me on three separate shifts, morning, afternoon and evening.
The all night shift was the wildest. She was a pretty little Puerto Rican girl whose name was Merriam.
CHAPTER FIVE
HER SOFT BELLY THRUST UPWARD AGAINST ME....
Merriam was a student nurse. It was her duty each evening to give me a sponge bath and change my bed linen. The first time she stripped me down, those lovely black eyes flashed and she broke into a smile. It had been two days since I had had anything. I was hotter than a poker. The flag pole was up and I was ready to pole-vault right out of bed.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Mr. Nelson," she cooed demurely.
"Why? It's a natural reaction. A man sees a pretty girl and nature reacts. I can't help what my third leg does, honey. I have no control over it."
"I'll pack it in ice cubes," she suggested jokingly. "That'll make it go down."
"What if it froze at its present size? What would I do then? I'd have to pitch a tent right here in my bed."
She did not answer. She dipped her wash cloth in warm soapy water and stroked my thighs clean. Her touch was gentle and provocative. All the while, she kept stealing glances at my throbbing joint, and I could tell she, too, was getting aroused. What I liked about her was that she did not try to hide her fascination for it, not for very long. She was quite outspoken about it.
"I've seen many naked men," she commented, "I'm ready to live with the Eskimos. But you beat anything I've ever seen. Don't you have trouble with something that size?"
"I've had trouble with it, but no complaints," I replied.
She started giggling. "I mean, aren't you afraid you may trip over it sometime?"
"When it's properly serviced, it behaves itself," I teased back at her.
With her wet hand, she grabbed it and squeezed it hard until I felt pain. "Make it behave now," she ordered, "and I'll try to sneak back here after visiting hours when the lights are turned off." She bent over to kiss me, and I felt her active tongue plunge into my mouth. I bit on it teasingly, and she giggled with pleasure. All the while her hand held its grip on my flag pole. My hips started moving up and down until she loosened her grip and her fingers began stroking it with a gentle massage
"Oh," I moaned. "What do I do now?" It was as though I had been love-starved for a year. "Please ... please, don't stop."
"I have to," she whispered. "Supposing the doctor should walk in here. Be patient, Mr. Nelson, and I promise I'll get back to you."
Nothing more was said. We didn't dare carry the conversation any further. In silence she finished my sponge bath and changed the sheets. Then she was gone. I tried to read and occupy my mind until she returned, but it was impossible. I kept counting the minutes, and the hours stretched out for what seemed like forever.
It was well after eleven o'clock when she slipped back into the room. I was out of bed and seated in the chair waiting for her. She put her finger to her lips and motioned me to silence.
"I can't stay too long," she whispered, as she tore open the front of her uniform quickly and efficiently. As the two massive globes of her breasts were exposed, Merriam pressed her hand against my shoulder, guiding me toward her lovely olive-toned flesh.
"Kiss them for me," she implored softly.
Avidly I complied, filling my mouth with an incredibly soft mound. My hands nervously began to play over her tiny body like a drunken flute player.
As I moved my lips from one breast to another, Merriam was groping, slipping her hand underneath the robe a was wearing, grasping for my relaxed rod.
Immediately she pulled back and glanced at me, an expression of disappointment on her face. "What is wrong?" Couldn't you wait?"
"No," I smiled. "It isn't that. I think they have been putting salt peter in my food."
Her intense disappointment disappeared and her face brightened. "I'll fix it!" she murmured, and dropped to her knees.
I thought to myself this is how I got into the hospital to begin with. But I wasn't complaining. Merriam's lips were quite persuasive. The blood rushed to my groin and I began to sense a mounting anxiety. When I had expand-ed to my fullest, Merriam withdrew her lips. She got up off her knees, backed up to my bed and fell upon it, flinging her button-down uniform wide open. She wore regulation cotton stockings that were rolled with the aid of garters to just above the knees. That way she had no need for a garter belt, only blue nylon panties. She had thoughtfully removed "her brassiere before stealing into my room.
As I stood watching her tense with anticipation, she raised her trim, shapely legs high in the air and for a moment I thought she was doing her calisthentics. She raised her legs so high off the bed that I was able to see the round contours of her buttocks. Her hands reached around her rear, her fingers went up to her spine and began peeling the nylon panties off her hips. Not until then did I realize what she was doing. I had been given a few pills to kill the pain in my head and I must have been a little dopey.
She beckoned to me. Dazedly, I moved to the side of the bed and stood staring down at her naked body. She lay on the high-rising hospital bed, her lovely olive-skinned legs spread apart, her eyes shining devilishly.
"I helped to arouse you, Mr. Nelson," she whispered. Now would you do the same for me?"
When the impact of her suggestion finally struck me, I think I started to laugh. I don't really remember, but her expressive little face became sober and woeful and I couldn't refuse her. Suddenly filled with compassion, I dropped to my knees and patted her thighs.
"I'm sorry," I said. "Believe me, I wasn't laughing at you. It's just that I have never had to be worked up before, especially by a trick as cute as you."
I leaned over to plant a kiss on her thigh. Swiftly, she reached out and grasped me from behind the neck, guiding my head toward her crotch. "I won't bite, Mr. Nelson," she murmured hoarsely. She began to twist and squirm with desire.
I shrugged. "What the hell, I told myself. "There's always a first time."
Resigned, I lowered my head to her thighs and her thatch. I took a deep breath and darted a tentative, hesitant tongue. Once I made contact, Merriam began to thrash and moan. I lashed out again, experiencing a surge of animal lust. Diving into the muff, I discovered, was an art. If you've never tried it, you don't have any idea what it does to a woman ... or for that matter what it does to the male.
I moved up to her breasts to give them a second working over. I took one of little Mer-riam's big breasts in my mouth and gently ton-gued it to a throbbing rigidity. I stuffed as much of the sweet-tasting mound as I could take into my mouth and sucked greedily. I heard Mer-riam's rasping breath. Then I moved to the other breast and repeated my actions, this time lightly biting until the nipple stiffened under my lashing tongue.
Merriam emitted a choking cry and without thinking she grabbed my bandaged head in both hands and jerked me toward her. Her action produced a stabbing pain in my head that forced me to reel dizzily, and all my weight collapsed on top of her.
"Oh, I'm sorry," she whispered. "I forgot for a moment."
I pulled back. Once the pain subsided, I felt lightheaded and high, sort of numb, as if I had been smoking pot. For a moment I stared hungrily at the shadowed junction of Merriam's thigh's until my sight came back into focus. Then I yanked off my robe, leaving myself free and naked.
Before easing myself down to my task, I glanced at Merriam's small round face and was pleased. She was sweating, and her eyes were glistening with way-out ecstasy.
I crouched over her, adjusting myself to my target. As her soft belly thrust upward against me, I plunged my weapon and we became a unit of one, indivisible, joined in the most consummate union in the world.
As the pace and tempo increased, we rose rapidly to immeasurable heights of joy, to a summit of sensation beyond the highest mountain.
When at last we crested there was a mutual explosion. We convulsed together in febrile spasms as passionate fountains spewed flaming lava....
We were lying side by side, gasping for breath, my hand still clutching her breast, when the door to my room flew open and the head nurse entered briskly, only to be stopped dead in her tracks.
That, of course, is another story-how the head nurse got lured into my swing shift.
* * * *
During my fourth year with the phone company, I got promoted to a desk job in the office. There had been a flood of letters of commendation about me from satisfied housewives, who found me courteous, willing, efficient ... and accommodating! The new job may have been a promotion as far as the phone company was concerned, but it was a demotion as far as I was concerned. Working in an office meant I lost my contact with the housewives of America, and their generous tips. I had built up a steady clientele of satisfied customers. Now my daylight hours were not my own. I was confined behind a desk with a lot of paper work I had no interest in whatsoever.
I was in charge of complaints! In all the time I had been an installer, I had never had a complaint. Nevertheless, being in the complaint department brought me in contact with many of the company's other phone installers, getting their sides of the complanits. This led to my giving advice, tips on how to handle the housewife, which gave a few of the installers enough courage to tell me a few stories about the demands made upon them by frustrated wives. Over a few martinis during the lunch hour, this gave me the spirit to suggest that the men might find it beneficial if they weren't always so pure on the job and did not resist the pressures put upon them by the housewives and career girls.
Before I realized it, more and more of the men were calling me to tell me of their adventures on the job and to thank me for my advice.
"So when I get home at night, I'm too exhausted to take care of my old lady after supper, but who cares," one installer admitted. "I mean a guy gets fed up having the same pot of stew all the time."
"Mr. Nelson, I'd like to buy you lunch," another installer enthused. "I've had a hell of a time making the payments on my car. Now with the extra side money I'm picking up, I can have the car paid off in no time."
Although the front office did not know how I approached the problems in my department, they admitted that there were fewer complaints now and more letters of commendation from housewives. There were also more calls requesting the installers to return for adjustments to the phones. One contradicted the other, but the front office was happily bewildered.
This put my brain to working. What if I organized the young unmarried installers and took a percentage of their tips? It was an idea worth considering. But I would need help.
I thought about Jeri K-, and on an impulse I called her.
"Hello, Jeri, this is Archer Nelson. Do you remember me?"
"Darling, how could I ever forget you? How have you been?"
"Well, I've come up in the world. I'm no longer and installer."
"What a pity, darling. Does that mean I can't have you by pulling the phone cord out from the wall any more?"
"Jeri, I'd like to see you, if I could. I'd like your opinion about an idea I have for making money."
"Is this a business proposition?"
"You might call it that. Could I drop by one afternoon and discuss it with you?"
"Of course, Archer, darling. I'd adore to see you, with or without a money making proposition."
"Wonderful! When would it be convenient, Jeri?"
"Corey and I are having a party tomorrow night. Why don't you come? I know Corey would be glad to see you, and some of my female friends will blow their minds when they feast their eyes on you."
"That sounds great. Would we have a chance to talk?"
"Of course, darling. For you, I'll make time." Then she burst into one of her throaty laughs. "What's so funny?"
"You'll see tomorrow night, Archer. You've got a shock in store for you."
"Give me a hint?"
"No! That would spoil all the fun."
She went on to inform me that the party would be held at their house in the suburbs, then gave me the address and instructions on how to get there.
The next day I went out and bought my first dinner jacket. I was coming up in the world. I was being accepted socially on equal terms. That wasn't too bad for a Greek kid from a poor family, who hadn't even graduated from high school.
I drove into the driveway of a magnificent mansion. Fabulous foreign cars, gleaming with polish and chrome, were everywhere in the driveway. South Sea Island torches gaily lighted the gardens surrounding the house. A butler showed me into a large, crowded room just off the entrance hall and I found myself caught up in a cloud of laughter, the tinkling of champagne glasses, and the groovy sound of a five piece combo playing on the patio outside.
For a moment I felt like an outsider. I knew nobody.
A few older women threw me appraising glances, but for the most part the men ignored me as if I was unimportant. Suddenly I felt Jeri's presence beside me. She came from behind me and clung to my arm warmly.
"Archer, darling, you're late," she greeted.
"I had a hard time finding the place. This is not my neck of the woods."
She looked me over critically, then smiled approvingly. "I have a feeling before this night is over, it will be," she predicted. "My God, you're handsome in a dinner jacket." Then she stood off to display herself. "What do you think of me?"
She wore a long flowing gown of blue lace and embroidered beads. I knew the dress was probably very expensive, but I didn't care for it because it had no shape. But what did impress me was Jeri's radiance. She was like a woman reborn, effervescent and deliriously happy.
"Don't you notice anything?" she asked.
"Yes. You're one helluva good-looking woman, only tonight you're dazzling."
She moved in and pressed against me. "Darling, I'm wearing a maternity dress. I'm pregnant." I must have gawked stupidly at her, because she added. "Come on, you need-a drink. I'll tell you about it later."
We elbowed through the crowded room to a bar beyond the chattering guests. I was aware of many of the people there giving Jeri and me curious glances and I realized they must have thought it strange that the hostess would suddenly give all her attention to a stranger, who was not a member of their social set. Enroute to the bar, Jeri asked her guests if they were enjoying themselves, and here and there she paused to introduce me, but there was so much of a clamor I was unable to remember the names of any of the people I met. Also I was thinking about what Jeri had told me.
Eventually we got to the bar and I ordered a drink. I was further startled when Jeri asked the bartender for a glass of milk.
"What is all this, Jeri?" I asked.
She leaned over confidenitally and whispered in my ear, "Let's get out of here." She was glowingly beautiful, not harsh and theatrical like I had remembered her. She placed a hand on my arm and I became aware of the warm suggestive pressure of her fingers. "We can take a walk around the grounds and talk."
As we made our way toward the patio, we ran into Corey, who was genuinely delighted to see me. "Archer, my boy, I'm so glad you could make it. Did Jeri tell you the good news?"
"I'm about to," Jeri replied. "You can talk to him after I've finished." With that she pulled me off quickly before she was caught having to make more introductions.
Outside the house, we walked around the large veranda which overlooked the gardens. Many couples were spotted here and there, some standing on the terrace, some seated on benches under a trellis in the garden. Jeri led the way, taking us further away from the house, the laughter and the music. We strolled together down a concrete walk, made a sharp turn and found ourselves on another terrace with a maze-like garden beyond. Little niches were spaced a few feet apart, each adorned with a white wrought-iron bench.
Here we were alone. Jeri drew me inside to a cranny, where we were shrouded in privacy by the shrubbery and the dark shadows. She took my glass, placed it on the bench, then turned to face me.
"Darling, I guess you can see how happy Corey and I are. Whatever togetherness we have recaptured, we owe to you."
She placed her arms around my neck, and clinging to me, she sealed her lips to mine, her mouth leeching hungrily. Instinctively, I put my arms around her. Once again I felt the same ecstatic feeling I had felt with her before, only now she did not appear to be so attainable. I had to remind myself that Jeri was by nature an outgoing, overly-affectionate woman, but her warmth towards me now was out of gratitude.
"Are you really going to have a baby?"
"Yes, I am. And I can't tell you how I'm looking forward to it. It will give me an entirely new approach to my life, perhaps not so wasteful and pointless."
"Is Corey the father?" We had been on such intimate terms I felt I had the right to ask.
"I don't know," she confessed frankly. "The only thing I'm sure of is that it's either you or Corey. It has to be one of you ... because it happened that week-end. But don't you see, Archer, it doesn't really matter. The very fact that Corey could be the father is enough for us. We don't really want to know otherwise. Corey is automatically asuming that it is his. I am too. It's made a great difference in our marriage. It's made us young again."
Once again Jeri enveloped me with her arms. "Maybe I'm a little more realistic than Corey. So let me just say, if you are the father, thank you, Archer, dear...."
"Maybe I'm not," I said.
"If Corey is the father, then I'm still eternally grateful. You made it possible for Corey." She reached out to touch my cheek, pulling my face down to meet hers. Once again she kissed me.
Suddenly, I felt remorseful, almost jealous. I became aware of Jeri's blue lace beaded gown, covering her lusty body as I remembered it, a body containing a seed that in all likelihood I planted. At that moment Jeri was a magnetic attraction. The expensive perfume that surrounded her, made me aware of how truly womanly she was. The whole scene was perfect for the pursuit of Jeri but yet, I did not want her. Inside, I felt dead.
And still my male vanity insisted that I force the issue. I put my arms around her and drew her close. My hands became bold instruments, reaching under her dress, to grasp her breast. Jeri shoved me away roughly.
"No! Don't tempt me, Archer. How I have thought about you and wanted you back in my bed ... but we can't. Not now. I owe it to the life inside of me to behave myself."
She turned around and began to walk towards the house, fast. I followed her and caught up to her on the terrace steps. She stopped and whirled around to gaze into my eyes. "You wanted to talk to me about something. What was it?"
"It's not important now." I stated.
"If there's anything I can do, Archer...."
"There is right now," I cut in. "Introduce me to all the wealthy women here who aren't getting what they want from their husbands."
Jeri laughed. "That's practically every woman here."
We walked together back into the house. I was aware of several knowing glances being hurled in our direction. I knew what they were thinking. If Jeri was aware of the staring eyes, she didn't show it, or she didn't care.
"Look around," Jeri said gaily. "Which one do you want to meet first?"
"The richest one here. I don't care how ugly she is."
Jeri looked at me with a peculiar gleam in her eyes. "What are you starting? A stud service?"
"That's exactly it," I exclaimed.
CHAPTER SIX
MY TYPE OF WOMAN....
By the time I had had several drinks, I was seething inside. There was Corey with his chest out, proudly taking bows for what was probably mine. Probably, hell! I know damn well the life in Jeri's body was mine. I screwed her six times that week-end, not including the first time which was through the back door. And there was Jeri, bubbling and treating me like such a dear, dear thing, with everything between us neat and proper now. I'm the only man who ever gave her what she wanted, and what did I get for it? A lousy five hundred bucks and a kiss on the cheek.
I know what you're thinking. I was envious. Sure I was. I admit that. Corey had everything-money, prestige, a beautiful wife, and now, thanks to me, his manhood was without question. He was going to be a father. That old fart! The only thing he could do was put his hand on it and wish it well.
Right then and there, I made up my mind about my future. I had something that all women wanted. I had something that the rest of those rich, pot-bellied bastards at the party didn't have and could never give their wives. I had something to sell-and I was going to make 'em pay for it.
Suddenly, a sleek, tall girl appeared, making a startling entrance. Her white cocktail dress was shimmering with sequins, and the neckline of that dress was V-shaped, ending almost at her navel. She was quite young, still in her teens, but brother she was a dream. She had dark hair and large, green eyes set like jewels in an oval face with a peaches-and-cream complexion. Her breasts swelled the front of her white dress like pumpkins. Her hips were wide and round below a very tiny waist. Talk about hour-glass figures! She had one.
Those wonderful eyes regarded me coolly as Corey made the introductions. She spoke in a reserved, rather aloof manner. Her name was Laura D-. Her father was a Senator, but he wasn't at the party that evening. He was in Washington. Laura had come to the party with her mother, Ruby, who at a glance looked like a real swinger. The mother was a lot like Jeri, only a few years older, approaching the fifty mark, but she didn't look it. She didn't have a line in her face, which was like a mask. That indicated to me that the old girl had had a face lifting.
Jeri was not too cordial to Ruby or the daughter. Next to Jeri, they were the best looking broads at the party. But the daughter, Laura, was Jeri's real competition. Jeri stayed clear of her. Laura made her look like an old bag. And that took some doing!
I know Jeri was infuriated when I played up to Laura and her mother, and ignored everybody else at the party, including her. But those two presented me with a problem. I didn't know which one to go after. If I had been smart, I would have gone after the mother, Ruby. That's where the money was, and the way Ruby kept giving me the heavy once over, I know she would be a pushover. Laura was the prize, however. She was the unattainable one and presented me with a challenge.
I concentrated on Laura, and had the mother twitching.
"I didn't really want to come tonight," Laura said to me as I handed her a glass of champagne that I had fetched for her from the bar. "But mother insisted." She looked flirtatiously into my eyes. "Now I'm glad I did."
"I am too," I admitted, as I sipped nervously on my scotch and soda.
"Jeri and Corey always have wonderful parties," Laura continued, "but the guest list is always made up of older people. I'm always so bored."
"I hope that doesn't include me."
"No," she smiled coyly. "That's why I'm glad mother insisted I come. What do you do, Mr. Nelson?"
"I'm with A.T.&T. I lied. Well, it was a half lie. I did work for the phone company and that was close enough. "You're probably an actress."
"An actress? Lord no," Laura exclaimed. "I'm really nothing."
"You're pretty enough to be a film star."
Laura gave me a reserved laugh. "I'm not. I'm a student. I'm in my first year at Stamford."
"I went to U.CL.A."
"That's a great university," Laura offered. "I would like to have gone there. It's not quite as stuffy as Stamford. But Daddy insisted upon my going to Stamford. I'm sure you know what it's like With parents. One has to appease them."
"Yes," I agreed. "I went through the whole bit when I was your age." For an effect, I sighed wearily.
"That wasn't too long ago, was it?" Laura questioned.
"If you're hinting at how old I am, I'm going on twenty-six." It was the first truthful thing I had said to her so far. "I hope that age doesn't bore you."
"On the contrary. That's an exciting age for a man to be. Most of the girls at school date older men. The boys at school are such drips."
The door was opened for me. "Care to go outside for a breath of air, Laura? There's so much noise in here."
Laura nodded and smiled wanly and let me lead her across the room. I made sure Jeri saw us leave together. She followed us with disapproving eyes. It did my heart good. My heart leaped up into my mouth as Laura and I passed through the french doors, leading out onto the terrace. The possibilities of getting Laura looked good.
We went around the side of the terrace to get away from the sound of the combo and seated ourselves in terrace chairs. I set my glass on the ground and took out my cigarettes. I lighted two and handed one to Laura.
She accepted it gratefully.
I pocketed my lighter. As Laura inhaled smoke, I said, "You're not very happy, are you Laura?"
Laura blew out a cloud of smoke. "You're very observing," she replied. "My parents make me feel like a prisoner. I can't do this. I can't do that. Sometimes I feel like I want to scream and go on a wild rampage, revolting against the old establishment. Mother and Dad are no saints, especially Mother, but they expect me to be Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm."
"And are you?"
She looked at me for awhile trying to decide if she should answer that question or not. Then her eyes began to sparkle wickedly. "No, I'm not, Mr. Nelson."
"Please, call me Archer."
"Archer, then. The only trouble is I haven't lived half as much as some of the girls at school."
"Do you want to?"
"What do you think ... Archer!"
I picked up my drink and took a quick gulp. Then I set it down again and put my arm around Laura. Squeezing her shoulder, I leaned toward her, and she immediately brought up her mouth to meet mine. Wow! Our tongues interlaced in the darkness as my hands began to explore the softness of her well-developed breasts. Her V-shape neckline made them so accessible.
Heat rose up inside of me as I crushed her to my chest. Her delicate hands were gripping my shoulder painfully, desperately. After more than a minute, we broke apart, breathing heavily. "I know a nice quiet spot, Laura," I whispered huskily in her ear. I was thinking of the place where Jeri had taken me in the garden.
"You mean the guest house?" she questioned simply.
"I was thinking of the garden."
"The guest house is much more secluded and comfortable," she suggested.
"Make it the guest house, by all means, I replied. "Lead the way."
As we stood up, abandoning our drinks, I pulled her around and pressed her to me, my hands moving over her resilient figure as my tongue lashed into her sweet-tasting mouth. We came apart trembling.
"Let's hurry," she suggested, "before Mother comes out here looking for me."
She took my hand in hers and guided me off the terrace, around the side of the house and through the garden. You can imagine the flip-flops my stomach was doing inside. I never imagined that this dream of a girl would be so easily attainable.
At the end of the garden we came upon a small cottage. By the way in which Laura led us directly to the guest cottage, I surmised that she had been here before. She knew every step of the way. She even knew where the key to the cottage was hidden underneath a potted palm.
The moment we were inside the cottage and the door was closed behind us, we fell immediately into each others arms, mouth to mouth, tongues lashing, sucking avidly, salivary juices intermingling as we ground our bodies together in a heated embrace.
What a heavenly bundle she was.
She was my type of woman. And I was her type of man. I know I say that about all the women I have, but in Laura's case, she really was built just for me. We clung together desperately in our need, kissing like young lovers with no tonorrow to look forward to, discovering the thrill of each others warmth for the first and last time. Our presence together, our rising emotions, our closeness began to alter the nature of our embrace. As my arms tightened, Laura snuggled deeper, never for a moment taking her mouth away from mine.
I felt the heated passion of her slender, curvaceous body beneath the thin fabric of her sequin dress. Mr hands moved gropingly beneath the garment, touching soft, vibrant quivering flesh. A few moments later Laura's gown dropped in a small heap to the floor, and her undergarments were flung about the four corners of the room.
Time stood still.
The party was forgotten.
We came together on the bed in a rhythmic rush of love, both sweet and demanding, ecstatic desperate, tender and gentle.
Believe me, she was sheer poetry ... and that's saying something for a rotten stud like me. Our togetherness was right out of Arabian Nights.
She spread her lovely legs, swinging them yawningly apart, wriggling them to tantalize me with the hidden rosebud of her youthful being. What a dream she was. The thick dark fur of her mound blossomed between the white-ivory flecked columns of her shivering thighs. Once my finger attained the hidden hub of her being, her body arched and flexed with convulsive spasms.
"Let's see how long we can hold out," she whispered. "Let's drive each other insane."
"I think I'm already there," I replied between gasps.
Her eyes fixed on me, humid and questioning and pleading, she moved her hand here, there, and eventually along the rock-hard, throbbing trunk of my weapon.
"Oh, my God ... my God...." she sighed.
She knew what her touch was doing to me by the way my body jerked and stiffened and by the way I groaned. My mouth ferociously sucked over hers, our tongues fencing in a duel of frantic, almost angry delight. Laura's firm little ass began to contract and yawn, to flex and quake, and her nipples were swollen arrow-tips of lust, rasping my hairy chest as she wriggled closer.
It was as if we were trying to crawl inside of each others body.
My hands quickened their tempo. Laura vibrated like a dynamo, purring, sobbing, whimpering, while her own hands diligently plied their task, and then, with a simultaneous outcry we merged, quaking as the ferocity of passion attacked us at the same thrilling, unbelievably exciting moment.
We were lifted to a high crest that quickly crashed over us, drawing us in a great wave of shuddering relief.
We lay quietly for awhile until our breathing subsided. I placed my hand affectionately on Laura's face and discovered tears streaking her cheeks.
"You're the first man who has ever made me cry," she whispered tenderly, as she poked her tongue into my ear. We had a cigarette apiece and were still vibrant and naked, kissing and fondling with that relaxed intimacy which comes after strangers have become lovers for the first time.
Damn it, she was a lovely kid.
"Do we have to go right back," she asked like a small child.
"What about your mother. Won't she be wondering about us?"
"Of couse, but the hell with her. Right now you are more important than she is."
I was really touched by her words. "Thank you, Laura. Thank you for that."
"Couldn't we go again?"
"Again?" I could not conceal my surprise. Once I had finished with a girl, she stayed finished. None of my conquests had ever asked for seconds so soon after I had laid them.
"Not the same thing," she explained. "A few variations, like the kids do at school to keep from making babies."
My eyes widened. "Okay, lovely one, who goes first?"
"Ladies first," she answered eagerly. She reached back for a pillow, arched her rump and shoved it under those smooth rosy cheeks, then sank back down, spreading her legs apart. I got on my hands and knees and hovered over her. Her slim hands reached out for me as I bowed my head.
Once again our sighs and ecstatic moans filled the small guest cottage. Laura clamped her rippling thighs around my neck, her muscles surging to the surface of her creamy flesh. Her rump began to twist and arch and toss in fitfull gyrations until a supreme earthquake jerked and contorted her. Eventually she toppled over on her side with a contented languorous sigh.
I went to the bathroom and when I returned to the room, she was dancing around. Her lovely naked body reflecting light and shade, filled my eyes with longing. I thought to myself, I must be in love for the first time. I just can't get enough of this girl.
I sank into an arm chair, and the moment I did she leaped like a playful kitten into my lap. Teasingly she ran her slender fingers through my hair as my hands kneaded her swelling young breasts, rubbing the lovebuds with my thumbs.
"Are you ready for me now," she asked.
"Ready for what?"
"Well," she giggled, glancing down at my weapon, "one good turn deserves another."
I was delighted at the prospect, but I couldn't help laughing inwardly, thinking back to other times. Laura raised herself off my lap and knelt before me, running her hands over the calves of my legs, staring at me with dancing eyes. I'll never forget that cute little flirtatious expression she had on her flushed, piquant face.
I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, as I spread my legs apart to give her plenty of room to maneuver. Her fingertips cajoled my legs, frictioning delicately, back and forth, as her head moved in closer to my groin.
"Ooooohhhh!" she cried, her mouth forming the letter O, and then I felt the sensation of gusts of breath against my loins. Brother, did I stiffen quickly.
With her lips, her tongue and her breath aiding, in the infallible lore of sheer animal lust, she renewed the cycle of my manhood. Then, with a squeal of delight over what she had accomplished with my organ, she rose. Planting her palms on the ends of the armrests, she began to maneuver between flight and gravity. Her eyes rolled back as she felt the indescribable goad.
The gnawing, drawing sensation nearly had me flipping my mind. It was so delightfully unbearable.
Just at a point when I was ready to climax, we heard a voice calling to Laura from off in the distance.
Laura withdrew, confused and startled. "That's mother's voice. She's out looking for me."
"What shall we do."
"Oh, my poor darling, I've left you hanging in limbo."
"Never mind that now, Laura. Get dressed as quickly as you can."
Laura sighed, then leaped for her clothes. "I guess that's best. You don't know mother. She won't stop searching for me, until she finds me. She'll have the whole party out searching for us."
"Laura! Laura!!" We heard Ruby calling persistently. Her voice was getting louder and closer to the cottage.
I don't think I've ever put on my clothes in such haste. I was just doing up the front of my dress shirt when there was a rapping at the door.
"Laura! Laura! Are you in there?" I turned to glance at Laura. She was just zipping up her dress, and trying to slip into her heels at the same time. "Yes, Mother, I am," she answered, a tone of annoyance in her voice. "What do you want?"
I heard Ruby gasp. "Are you in there alone? Open this door."
The rapping continued. Laura threw her head back, poised and in control, walked casually to the door and unlocked it to admit Ruby, who all but fell into the room. We were still in darkness except for the lights shining in from the garden. Quickly I turned and flipped on a light.
Ruby looked at her daughter and then at me. She was aghast.
"In the darkness?" she observed. "What's the meaning of this, Laura? How could you?"
"How could I what?" Laura snapped. "And the meaning of this is that Archer and I are engaged to be married. Aren't we, Archer?"
Ruby and I were both knocked back on our heels by this statement, only Ruby was more horrified than I. "You can't be serious. You don't even know this man," Ruby reminded her.
Laura looked toward me and smiled. "I do now, Mother."
She was so cute the way she handled her mother, I couldn't help being amused. But not for long. Ruby lunged toward me, attacking me with her fist and her handbag.
"You bastard! What have you done to my daughter. You'll pay for this." The woman was hysterical, screaming at the top of her lungs.
"Stop it, Mother," Laura commanded. "Stop it." She grabbed her mother's arm and jerked her off of me. "If you don't calm down, I'll leave right now with Archer ... and I won't return home."
With that Ruby broke down sobbing and ran out of the cottage.
"I'm sorry, Laura," I said. "I hope this doesn't get you into trouble."
Laura crossed to me, placed her arms around my neck. "No trouble that won't blow over. And I'm not sorry." She planted a kiss on my lips. "If I give you my number, will you call me?"
I agreed to call her, and we exchanged numbers before returning to the main house. Laura and her mother left the party almost immediately thereafter. I followed Laura to the door and her parting words whispered in my ear were "Think about that engagement, Mr. Nelson. It might not be such a bad idea for both of us."
CHAPTER SEVEN
WILD IN THE HAY....
After Laura and her mother left, Jeri was all over me with questions, wanting to know what had happened down at the guest house. I avoided giving her any direct answers.
"All right, don't tell me," Jeri said. I'll find out from Ruby tomorrow. But what a conquest! You had both the mother and daughter falling all over you, Casanova. And that's one of our richest families."
Jeri led me back to the bar for a drink. The party had lost some of its formality and was settling down to a real social brawl. Having left the party with the hostess and then for a questionable length of time with a Senator's daughter, I sensed that I was the central topic of conversation.
"You know, darling," Jeri projected, "you remind me of that joke about a 900 pound gorilla."
"What about the gorilla?"
"Do you know where a 900 pound gorilla sleeps?" she asked me.
"No, where does one sleep?" I cued her for the punch line.
"Any where it damn well wants to," Jeri said, bursting into laughter.
"I fail to see the comparison, Jeri."
"You, with what you got going for you, can damn well sleep where ever you want ... and with whom you want. In a way, you're like the gorilla. You're to be feared, Archer."
I glanced at her quizzically, not quite sure how she meant that. I knew she was sore about Laura, and I reasoned she was just getting back at me. "Do you fear me, Jeri?"
She gave me her famous husky, throaty laugh. "Of course, darling. That's why I'm on your side. Come on, I have a lot of twitching females for you to connect with. They're all potential customers."
During the course of the evening I made quite a few important contacts, and succeeded in getting phone numbers promises to call. I made a good start at the party that night. Several days later I invited about a dozen handpicked installers over to my pad for a few drinks and put my proposition to them. They were the best looking of the lot and all unmarried. I was pretty sure these guys would be more than eager to go along with my offer, so I put it to them straight. After all they had nothing to lose by it, and if one or two of them did fink to the phone company and endanger my job, I reasoned it did not matter. I was convinced that a stud service in San Francisco could be a big moneymaking business and a full time career in its own.
To the last man, the boys bragged they were ready, eager and able. I know then I had not made any mistakes on the men I had selected for the initial start of this project. I had no ideals about marriage, but I reasoned that married men could present complications that could spell trouble when my service really started rolling.
The next step was just the formality of phone calls to the contacts I had made at Jeri's party and to some of my old clientele, setting up a time and place for meetings. The first time out I always went along with one of my boys, to make the proper introductions. I generally stayed long enough to have one drink so as not to be obvious about things and then found a reasonable excuse to leave my boy alone with the customer. In the first two weeks I really had my hands full, trying to handle my work in the office and running all over town, into one bar after another, meeting the customer and introducing her to one of my boys.
For the first month I had twelve boys, who on an average serviced one woman a day at fifty bucks a throw. I took a fifteen percent cut, which meant that I was pocketing ninety dollars a day or six hundred thirty bucks a week for doing nothing more than setting up the initial meetings. This did not include the women I serviced myself each evening after office hours and my weekly pay check. For awhile there I was earning about fifteen hundred a week, tax free.
After the first month, four of my boys quit their jobs as installers for the phone company and were able to service as many as three customers a day. The boys were young and bright and they caught on quickly to the romantic crap they had to dish out to feed the egos of these broads.
When I started seeing more and more of Laura and spending less time making contacts and servicing women myself, is when things began downhill. For awhile there I even convinced myself that I was falling in love with Laura and was foolish enough to think that this might develop into something permanent. Once a stud, always a stud. There's no room for real romantic involvements. That's where I made my mistake.
I had never known a girl like Laura before. She had looks, youths breeding and an overwhelming sexual appetite. On top of this, she had really fallen madly in love with me. It was one of those too-good-to-be-true situations that only work out in the movies. If I had been smart and had any sense, I would have given Laura the brush after two dates, but this was one chick I could not bring myself to hurting.
Laura and I managed to get together about once a week, generally on the week-ends. About a month went by in which we were steady-dating before I became aware that I was being followed. At first I suspected that the phone company had gotten wind of my sideline operation and was having me investigated. Then one evening as I left the office, a strange man I had not seen before approached me in the parking lot.
"Are you Archer Nelson?" he asked.
"Yes. What can I do for you?"
"It's not what you can do for me," the stranger corected. "It's what you can do for yourself, if you know what's good for you."
"Who are you," I demanded. "And what's this all about?"
"It's about Miss Laura D.-. Stop seeing her, hustler, or you're not going to be in any shape to conduct your business. In fact you won't have any business to conduct any business. Get me? This is just a warning. It's the first and the last."
He turned his heels and walked away, disappearing around the side of a building. He really set me back on my ass. I knew Laura's father was powerful. He had undoubtedly had me followed, had checked me out and found me to be thoroughly disreputable, and sent his messenger boy to serve his warning. When you had the Senator's kind of power, you could do anything. It was like the joke Jeri had told me. When you're a 900 pound gorilla, you can sleep any damn place you want to. I wasn't 900 pounds worth of power yet and I knew it. But I didn't want them to think that I could be frightened off that easily.
Then late one evening Laura showed up at my apartment with a suitcase. She said she said she had had a terrible argument with her father, who had forbidden her to see me againn. She had refused and moved out of her home.
Now I knew I was in for trouble. The only thing in my favor was that she had come to me instead of me going to her. The old man now knew he had his daughter to deal with as well as me. Knowing how serious Laura felt about me, presented him with complications that were going to take some careful handling, if he wanted to maintain his daughter's love.
I waited for the old boy to make the next move, and while I waited I made sure I didn't walk up any dark alleys.
Laura and I spent the entire week-end in my apartment. We didn't even go out for a package of cigarettes. It was wild and wonderful, and I found myself growing more and more attached to her. I began to doubt that I could give her up, if I had to. Monday morning Laura returned to school. Just before the lunch hour, I received a mysterious phone call in my office.
It was a woman's voice. "Mr. Nelson, meet me in the parking lot in fifteen minutes. I'll be waiting in your car." Before I could answer I heard the click of the receiver.
Not knowing what to expect, I went to the parking lot with trepidations. Lo and behold who do you think I discovered waiting for me in my car. It was Ruby D.-, herself, in the flesh.
"Well," I managed to say as I slid in behind the wheel of my car, "this is a surprise."
"First, let me put you straight, Mr. Nelson," Ruby began. "I'm not here on behalf of my husband. Seeing you myself is strictly my idea."
I smiled charmingly." And what do you hope can be accomplished by this meeing?"
"Us! I think you and I can accomplish something that will be beneficial to both of us."
"And what might that be?"
"Would it be possible for us to go to some cozy little secluded place for a drink and I'll tell you."
"I'm at your service, Mrs. D.-"
Ruby rolled her eyes and glaced at me flirtatiously. "That's exactly what I had in mind."
A half hour later found us seated at a corner table in a cocktail lounge of some fancy motel out on the highway. The chances of our being seen out there were remote.
"I think my husband's a fool," Ruby was admitting over a Brantly Alexander, "the way he's gone about handling this situation. Forbidding Laura and threatening you is perfectly ridiculous. I told him so. Then I saw the detective's report on you, Mr. Nelson, and I was fascinated. I never had any idea you were involved in such interesting work."
"Okay, Mrs. D.-, you know, and now I know that you know. Does Laura know yet?"
"No," she confessed. "We would like to keep it from her, if at all possible. She's doing so well at Stamford. Something like this could be shattering to a girl her age."
"So where do we go from here," I asked.
"I offer you money," Ruby smiled sweetly "Lots of money."
"How much?" If I was going to be bought off, the price was going to be high.
"Well," Ruby hemmed and hawed, "that's something we'll discuss later."
"How much later?"
"After I've availed myself of your services."
I looked at her placid, smiling, unlined face. She was a thoroughly wicked woman in the framework of a respectable, dignified matron. "Does your husband know about this?"
"I told him I was going to try things my way," Ruby explained. "He knows that I'm seeing you today ... and that I 'm going to offer to buy you off. That way everything I do is open and aboveboard, and I have no excuses to make to my husband. Having a little fun while I'm at it, is my idea, Mr. Nelson."
"I didn't think it was the Senator's. But aren't you forgetting about the detective."
"No, I thought of that too. I insisted that my husband dispense with him. You haven't been followed today, have you?"
Suddenly I realized I hadn't seen my shadow that day, and what she said was probably true. "It seems that you have thought of everything, Mrs. D.-."
"I always do," she replied. She was very sure of herself. I detest women like that. "Shall we have another drink and then retire to one of the little motel cabins in back, Mr. Nelson?"
I stiffened. "You do that, Mrs. D., I'll phone one of my boys to come over and service you."
"No, that won't do," she insisted. "I'm making this scene with you or nobody."
"Why me?"
"Simple! You're a very attractive male, and I want you. My instincts tells me you must be a holy terror in bed."
"For your information, Mrs. D.-, I am, I'm also not stupid. My instincts tell me this is some sort of a trick."
"It's no trick, I assure you. I have more to lose by doing something like this than you do. But I have in my purse a check made out to you for ten thousand dollars." With that she opened her purse, withdrew a check and held it up for me to see. It was made out to me for the amount she said and signed personnally by the Senator. "It's yours on the condition that you discontinue seeing Laura. That's my husband's condition. Mine is that we spend a pleasant afternoon together."
Your husband doesn't know of your personal condition?"
Rudy laughed. "Good God, no, My husband's a very stuffy man."
"What if I refuse. Mrs. D.-, or haven't you considered that aspect?"
"Oh, yes, I have. If you refuse me, I will simply tell my husband we could not make a deal, and you'll be out ten thousand."
"But what if I agree not to see Laura again."
"I will still tell my husband, we were not able to make a deal. Then it would give me great pleasure to see him destroy you, Mr. Nelson. Don't underestimate the Senator. He can do it. You would lose your job with the phone company. You wouldn't be able to work any place in this town ... and the police would harass you so much, you'd have to get out."
I let all she had said penetrate for awhile. Ruby might have been a hypocrite and a phony, but she wasn't hard to take. I'd been to bed with older women who were dogs in comparison to Ruby. I recalled that Laura had mentioned that her mother was no saint, which probably meant she was wild in the hay. Why not, I said to myself-for ten thousand dollars! Why not. I'd never be permitted to marry Laura. It would never work. I'm the kind of guy who can never settle down with one woman. I've got a sickness and I can't do anything about it. So I figured that the time was right to break off relationship with Laura. There was ten thousand reasons why the time was right.
"Okay, Mrs. D.-. I'm your boy. I'll give you one helluva workout."
"You agreed no to see Laura again?"
"Yes." I said flaty.
"And this afternoon will be strictly between us? I mean I would not want you mentioning anything to Jeri and Corey."
"I understand, Mrs. D.-. Discretion is the policy of our service." My fingertips were itching to touch that check for ten thousand. "Should I arrange for a cabin," I asked somewhat patroniziingly, "or have you taken care of that too?"
"No," she replied. "Those details I leave to you."
I rose from my chair, crossed around in back of her chair to help her to get up from the table. "After you, Mrs. D.-." I'm quite convincing when I play the part of a gentleman.
The cabin room was neat, clean and comfortably furnished in the economical Swedish-Modern. The moment after we had entered the room and I had closed and chained the door, Ruby transferred from one personality into another. It was unbelievable! From the shrewd, calculating, cunning, society-yeary female that she was, she transformed into a virtuous, naive, swoon-prone heroine in peril. I had heard about woman like this, who had to assume another character, who actually got their rocks off by stepping into another role. In Ruby's case, she became the young girl, who was always being taken advantage of and had to fight for her honor. Fighitng off men heightened the thrill.
No sooner had I snapped the lock and chained the door, then she reeled about to face me and demanded to know, "What are you doing?"
"Locking the door," I explained. "What else?"
"No," she objected dramatically. "Leave the door opened."
"Are you crazy?" I said.
She bolted toward the door and took the chain off before I thought to stop her. "No, let me out of here. I've changed my mind." She was in a state of panic. At first I thought she was putting on an act ... and she was ... except that later I realized she was not aware of it.
"Look, honey, we're here now," I pointed out. "It's too late to back out. I've accepted your offer."
She stared at me pleadingly. "No, please, let me out of here," she said, pulling on the door, but not bothering to unlock it.
"Oh, come off it," I laughed. "Who do you think you're kidding." Impulsively, and somewhat angered, I grabbed her and viciously pulled her away from the door. Ruby began to slap me, and this only made me sore. I was determined to screw her now, regardless. Something about her rocked me. What it was, I couldn't figure out. It was a strange mixture of confusion and emotions. She had led me on, blackmailed me into this situation and I was damn sure she wasn't going to back out now. I grabbed her roughly, blindly, and pulled her forcibly against me.
"Come here," I ordered. "And shut up. I never knew a woman who needed it more than you, honey."
"Let go of me," she snapped. "If you don't, I'll scream. I will. I swear it."
I only laughed at her. Go ahead. Who cares? Scream your goddamn head off."
"How dare you," she cried indignantly, raking my face with her nails.
I took about two seconds of that before I seized her by the wrist. With brute force, grasping her head with my free hand, I smothered her mouth with my own. Ruby struggled and pushed against me. She grasped for breath, struggling and biting, but she soon realized she could not overpower me. Slowly, then abruptly her arms moved up and entwined around my neck.
"That's more like it," I sighed. At first I thought she was responding. I eased up on her and when I did, she suddenly wrenched free of my grasp and tore loose, making a beeline for the door. I went after her, caught her at the door, picked her up bodily and dumped her on the bed.
My violent actions only served to inflame her desires. She leaped up and slashed out at me with her long nails. Each blow she struck only served to whet her appetite and increase her sexual hunger. With a movement that was more exasperation than violent anger, I pushed her in the face and she tumbled back down on the bed. Desperately she tried to escape by rolling over to the other side. I lunged for her, however, and held her fast to the mattress. A couple of the buttons on her dress popped and I discovered she was completely naked underneath. This broad really came prepared.
Now I knew she was putting on an act and I decided to play up to her. I ripped her dress open leering down at the surging mounds of her flat, flabby breasts. My fingers twitched at her nipples. In one violent motion I ripped the garment off of her. She shrieked in a frenzy, kicking and clawing at me. The violence also served to work me up. The naked sight of her spurred me on with reckless abandon. The more I mistreated and manhandled her, the more it drove Ruby berserk.
Although she continued to defy me, she made no effort to conceal her nakedness. For a long while, I stood above her, glaring down, breathless from the excitement and the effort of the struggle.
Unexpectedly, Ruby tried once again to make a beeline for the door. She didn't have a stitch on and this time I didn't try to stop her. I thought it would be fun to see how far she would go with this act. She got the door unlocked. That's as far as the bitch got, before hesitating and turning back to me. Knowing full well she would not venture out of the room naked, I fumbled with my own clothing, undoing my belt and zipper. The moment I dropped my pants, Ruby was all eyes. Breathless from exertion, her breasts rising and falling quickly, she stared at me. Her hair which was dyed black like Laura's, was twisted and tangled about her face and neck. It gave her the look of a wild woman.
It was so ridiculous. When I didn't touch her, she was all right. Every time I grabbed her, she tried desperately to escape. I've told you how sick I am, but this broad was a whole lot sicker. I had to hold her fast by the wrists, forcing her arms behind her back. Shoving her back down upon the bed, I accidentally fell on top of her. This did it for me. Two naked bodies pressed together and I was gone. Ruby threw her head from side to side to avoid my clavering mouth, which was seeking the soft, pliant globes of her flesh.
Then suddenly, thank God, she was still. She was limp and expended. I had to look up from the tips of her breasts, where I had been chewing, before I recognized the fire in her eyes. No longer was her mouth compressed. What a kookie broad she was. I chuckled and then covered the coral tipped center of one breast with my mouth. Ruby trembled all over and cried out as if she was helpless. In a pig's ass, she was helpless. She was as strong as I was.
But her cry, I recognized was of pleasure and desire, not of anger or pain. Now I could relax my grip on her, and not be worried that she might hit me or struggled to free herself. Instead I felt her long nails clawing at my head, running through my hair.
"You son of a bitch," she murmured, kissing me savagely, her tongue darting, her body arching up, her flesh lashing against mine. "You don't want me, I know, but I can't resist you. I'm helpless in your arms."
I couldn't help laughing. I thought she could produce a better line than something as corny as that-I'm helpless in your arms.
"Please, don't hurt me any more," she begged. "I'll give in to you."
Who was she kidding. I had roughed her up a bit but I hadn't hurt her. She was really a nut. Once I convinced myself of this fact, I knelt above gazed down at her sleek thighs and heavy breasts. She lay struggling, squirming on the mattress, awaiting me in anticipation of my invasion. As I lowered myself, she leeched on to the wet, sweaty muscles of my shoulders. The more I forced, the more she wanted me. Caught up now, I could only think of the urgency of my own need for release. Is I grew more aware of her gentle, feminine scent, my senses became inflamed with desire. I could feel the soft, clinging, raking, clutching of her hands upon my back. No more playing games, I told myself. It was time to get down to business and earn that ten thousand dollars.
I knew what she liked now, so I provoked her, using vile erotic words-all four letter words-which I whispered into her ear. Ruby cursed me, but nevertheless she clung to me with her surging thighs and savage kisses, "You adorable bastard," she sobbed. It was a cry of shameless lust. I tried to hold back, to prolond the torment, but the urgency of the moment drove us both into a frenzied state.
She continued to curse me over and over, beating me off with one hand, holding to me with the other. Suddenly we rushed on together toward our final fulfillment. Ruby became rigid. She screamed at the top of her voice, clawing at me, driving her body against mine like a demanding madwoman. And then, finally, at the pulsating, shattering instant, at the summit, we collapsed.
I continued to hold her in my arms. I've got to admit, Ruby was a good lay. She ranked with the best of them. She gave intercourse a dash of dramatic shownmanship. Slowly I became conscious of the final sighs accompanying the tremors of her passion as it subsided.
Ruby gently pressed herself to my side, wiggled a bit, then moved to the edge of the bed. She sat up and reached toward my cigarettes that had dropped to the floor while I was undressing. She lighted the cigarette, took several puffs on it and then turned it over to me. I was watching her closely through half-opened eyes. I knew now that the session was over, I was going to have to fight to get that check off her and then rush to the Senator's bank before three o'clock to cash it. I was on to the old trick of giving a check and then calling the bank and canceling it.
Just at that moment, to my surprise as well as Ruby's, the door opened-the door that I had forgotten to lock again after Rubv had dramatically opened it-and my old friend the detective stepped into the room with a flash camera.
"Hold it," he ordered, as he snapped a picture of Ruby and me sprawled across the bed naked. "Thank you," he said as he backed out of the door and closed it behind him.
Ruby started screaming. "Damn! Damn! Damn him. That bastard. That stuffy ass-hole."
"Who?" I queried.
"My husband. He promised to call off the detective today, but he tricked me."
I've been involved in so many situations that backfire, I can smell the smoke before somebody strikes the match. I got up off the bed, angled around to the chair in which Ruby had dropped her purse.
"Did you stop to consider that maybe the detective did this on his own?" I pointed out to distract her. "Maybe he did it in hopes of getting a bonus from the Senator."
"But how would he know about the situation between us?" Ruby turned away from me and nervously reached for another cigarette. As she did so, I reached for her purse and quickly withdrew the check made out to me.
"Quickly, lock that door," I ordered." Ruby obeyed and this gave me time to shut her purse and place it back on the seat of the chair. With my arms behind my back, I carefully folded the cucck, tuen Dent over for my shirt on the floor. As I picked it up, I stuffed the check in my shirt pocket.
We dressed quickly. Ruby was as anxious to separate as I was. "I'll leave first," I suggested. "That way there's no chance of that bum getting another shot of us together."
"What difference would it make?" Ruby whined. "Just one picture is enough."
"It might be out of focus ... or overexposed. Who knows?"
"Archer, please don't be angry, but I can't give you that check now. I've got to wait and see."
"I understand," I said, as I headed for the door.
"I hope you do. There's just a chance the detective might contact me first for a shakedown."
"Hurry, honey. Get out of here as quickly as possible. So long. I enjoyed the ride." With a salute to her, I flew out the door, got in my car and drove off. All the way to the bank I held my breath, hoping that Ruby would be in such a hurry to get home that she might not check her purse. If she did, and discovered that I had taken the check, one call from a public phone booth to the bank and the check was no good.
Forty-five minutes later I walked out of the bank with a roll of bills amounting to ten thousand dollars bulging in my pocket. I felt like the cock of the walk. I had outsmarted a Senator ... or had I? Two days later all hell broke loose.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CAN I HAVE SOME, TOO?....
I was awakened at nine by a phone call. The voice on the other end was gruff and deadly. "This is Senator D.-speaking," he announced." My daughter Laura is on her way over to see you, Nelson. Make it the last time. Get rid of her."
"Fill me in, Senator. What does she know?"
"She knows about the ten thousand dollars, what else?"
"What about the picture?"
"No, I didn't show it to her. I didn't have the heart to destroy Laura's image of her mother. I'll deal with my wife personally. Right now, all I want is you out of Laura's life. Understood? You've got your money. If you ever have anything to do with my family again, I'll personally kill you, you ... his rage cut off his words. He banged down the receiver.
I leaped out of bed, slipped into a robe and was preparing myself a cup of coffee, when the doorbell rang.
Laura was standing in the doorway, crying, staring at me with accusing eyes. "Is it true?" she asked. "Did you accept money from my father?"
God she made me feel rotten. Well, I guess I was, and this was no time to change images. I'd gone out too far. "Sure," I admitted. "I took the money. If you think I thrive on love alone, baby, you got another think coming. I guess you're old man told you about the line of work I'm in."
"Yes," she said tearfully. "I called him a liar."
"It's true, sweetheart. You're a good-looking kid, but why should I marry you? With all the wealthy broads around, why should a guy like me get saddled for life to one girl when I can have them by the dozens?"
"And you never meant any of the things you said?" She was willing to give me every chance, the benefit of any doubt.
I had to get rough. "What is it with you, Laura? Do you want your cake and eat it too? Things don't work that way. So I didn't love you ... and I never intended marrying you. So what? You've got no cause for complaint. I gave you what you wanted. You wanted to live ... you wanted to taste life. Okay, honey you tasted life from the best stud in Frisco. Now you've graduated and I hand you a diploma. This is the kiss-off. Good bye, sweetheart, and good luck on your next trip around. I'd apprecited it, if you would recommend me to some of your girl friends at school."
Tears, of angry frustration, trickled from her eyes. "You bastard!" she screamed and smacked me across the face. Then she turned on her heels and ran down the hall. She buzzed for the elevator but didn't wait for it to arrive. She disappeared down the stairs and that's the last I ever saw of Laura D.-.
That evening I was sitting alone in a bar doing a fairly decent job of drinking myself blind. I guess I loved that kid as much as I'm capable of loving anybody. The news came on the TV set over the bar and a picture of the Senator and Laura flashed on the tube.
I was knocked right off my stool when the announcer reported that Laura had cracked up in her car out on the highway. She had been doing ninety when the car rolled over an embankment. Laura was in the hospital. Her condition was critical. The doctors had little hope for her survival. The report went on to say that the State Troopers called it an acident, but knowing Laura as I did, knowing her to be a careful driver, I knew it was attempted suicide.
Now I knew I was washed up in Frisco. If Laura died, my name would be mud. The Senator would have his entire administration out gunning for me.
I had to get out of town ... and I had to get out fast.
Luckily I had plenty of money, I had my car. For some time I had realized that the complaint department of the phone company was not going to be my lifetime career. Actually I was ready to move on. I had gotten as much as I could out of San Francisco. I had left my mark on that town. Once a guy leaves his mark, it's down hill all the Way. The best thing to do is to pull out and seek greener fields.
Greener fields reminded me of Richfield! I hadn't been there in almost ten years. My father had died quite a few years ago, and Odell Brown had written me a few months ago to inform me that my mother had passed on and had left me the shack and the property, where I had been born and raised. I felt guilty: I hadn't kept in contact with my mother. When I left Richfield I had left all ties behind, except my contact with Odell. Now that I had a little money, I thought it might make amends to return to Richfield, putting up two marble stones over my parents graves, maybe fix up the little house and live there for awhile.
It would be nice to see Odell again. He was married now and settled down. I was curious to meet his wife and find out what kind of a chick had hooked him.
I was going home. It was a good feeling.
Driving up the Pacific coast on Route one, I felt as if I was leaving the past ten years of my life behind me. A deep feeling of relief swept through me, and I sighed contentedly as I turned off Route One in order to hit route 101 that went through Santa Rosa and eventaully put me on the highway leading to Richfield.
"Laura! Laura!"
Only my thoughts of Laura ... not knowing if she was alive or dead ... haunted me.
During a brief coffee stop at a diner, I phoned Odell and let him know I was on my back to Richfield. He suggested that I stop by his house first and then together we would drive out to my family's shack and look the place over.
"If you make it here by six o'clock," Odell had said, "plan on staying here with us for dinner. Estelle has heard so much about my little brother, she'll be delighted."
I opened up on the highway to about seventy and arrived in Richfield before six, a record run of some sort. I went directly to Odell's house and parked my Mustang behind his beautiful new station wagon in front of the huge stone house on the narrow side road that angled off the highway. I got out, mopped my brow with a handkerchief, and stretched my road-weary body. The sky was streaked with brilliant shades of red and blue. It had been a clear, hot day. There was not a cloud in the sky. As I surveyed the breathtaking beauty of the landing surrounding Odell's house, I was suddenly struck with the charm of Richfield. I had never thought so before. But now, after almost ten years in Frisco, it looked very good. My fatigue gradually gave way to a feeling of intense exhilaration.
Reluctantly, I tore my hungry eyes away from the hills of Richfield with their new spring raiment of light green and turned toward the ani-cient stone steps beside Odell's station wagon. The steps were steep and treacherous, with numerous jagged gaps in them where pieces of flagstone had broken away.
I climbed slowly, to conserve my energy for my welcome home.
When I finally reached the top, I walked along a short slate walk and knocked loudly on the latched screen door. The house once had been a roadside inn. Odell had spent quite a bit of money to fix it up. He had made many new improvements since I had last seen it.
A slim, curvaceous figure in a pale yellow housecoat appeared at the door, with two tiny tots trailing after her. "You must be Archer?" I was immediately struck by her youth and beauty. She had a heart-shaped face and big blue eyes. Her sandy-colored hair was worn casually and sometimes fell over a part of her face. For such a petite woman, she had an unusually deep ovice.
"And you're Estelle," I countered.
She nodded, pulled her children away and held open the screen door for me. I was startled when she embraced me as if we were long separated relatives.
"I've heard so many things about you, Archer, I really feel like I've known you as long as Odell." Then she pressed firmly against me and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
Feeling her tiny breasts pressing against mine, did something to me. I crushed that slim little body suddenly tighter in my arms as the heat burned through me in ever-increasing intensity. My gut felt like a blazing furnace.
Abruptly, Estelle broke free, leaving me breathless with desire.
She and her two tiny children looked up at me strangely. I suddenly felt embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Estelle. I got carried away. I'm so glad to meet you at long last." I turned away from her and gazed down upon her two children.
Estelle proudly introduced them ... a boy and a girl. "This little sexpot is Nancy Brown, age two and a half. The boy is Odell, Jr ... and if he grows up and takes after his afther, God help the rest of us."
We stood in the foyer for awhile discussing the kids and the house. I mentioned how nice the old place looked and Estelle went on to explain the things that she and Odell were still planning to improve the place. Finally our light, mundane conversation ran out and we stood staring questioningly at each other. I'm sure she was as attracted to me in that instant as I was to her.
"Well let's not just stand here in the doorway," Estelle finally broke in. "Come on in, sit down and have a drink. You must be tired."
'I am," I replied as I followed her through the living room into another room that was decorated like a rathskeller barroom.
The children were tagging at our heels, screaming and laughing, excited over the prospect of company. Estelle whirled around to them and shoved them out of the barroom. "All right, you little monsters," she growled, "upstairs and get dressed for dinner. And Odell, don't forget .to wash behind your ears." She leaned over to kiss little Nancy on the top of the head, then screeching loudly, the two children happily galloped out. "You love them," Estelle said to me as she crossed in behind the bar, but sometimes you want to murder them. What can I fix you to drink, Archer."
I had been looking around for Odell, who I expected to barge out to greet me long before this. "Where's Odell?"
"Oh, he said you wouldn't get here before six-thirty," Estelle explained. "He drove down to the liquor store to get a few things. He'll be right back. In the meantime, relax and have a drink."
I did just that, I seated myself on a bar stool, rested my arms on the bar and watched Estelle make us two drinks. The housecoat she wore, although primly closed at the neck, was missing one strategic button, which allowed enough of a gap to expose a liberal expanse of pink-white cleavage to my eager eyes. Her round little rump undulated maddeningly under the yellow housecoat as she reached up for two glasses on a shelf behind the bar. The garment clung so tightly over the enticing curves of her hips that I could see the outlines of her panties.
My mouth watered as I felt an immediate reaction lashing through me like a raging fever. Nervously I withdrew a fresh package of cigarettes from my jacket pocket and lighted one. It enabled me to pull my eyes off her and exhale a camouflaging cloud of gray smoke, behind which I silently gritted my teeth.
"What made you decide to leave San Francisco," Estelle prompted, totally unaware of my hypnotic stare.
I think my face must have reddened to my ears, as I suddenly wondered just how much Odell had told her about me. Probably everything. "Well," I replied weakly, "I've been away so long, I've managed to save a little money, so I thought it would be nice to come back home and maybe take up painting again."
Estelle smirked knowingly, as she reached over the bar and placed a drink in front me. "Odell says you hate Richfield, and you're too lazy to paint. So what was it, Archer? Girl trouble in San Francisco?"
"Something like that," I admitted with a sheepish grin. As she crossed out from behind the bar with her own drink, I took a nervous puff on my cigarette and rubbed my nose in embarrassment. I don't know what it was with Estelle ... what she had, that shook me up so much. I think maybe I expected Odell's wife to be dull, a small town, uninteresting matron, and I was stunned to discover her to be just the opposite ... so much so, that I couldn't figure out why a girl as good-looking as Estelle, would have married Odell in the first place.
As she lifted herself up on a barstool beside me, I got another titillating glance at her gently curving cleavage. Her breasts were small though firm and full. I gritted my teeth again to suppress an overwhelming urge to plunge my hand into that inviting valley of creamy flesh before me. I watched her as she drew a cigarette from my pack on the bar.
"So," she said curtly, "are you really serious about going back to your painting?"
"Well," I replied haltingly, "I have to do something".
'I know Odell is delighted that you're back. Several months ago he was saying to me that you would make a wonderful subject for a book."
"Who me?" I questioned.
"I even think he's started a file of notes on you. They contain all your letters," she explained, then trailed off into laughter. "All your letters. That's funny. Since I've been married to Odell, I think he's received exactly five letters from you ... That's less than one a year." She sipped delicately from her glass and returned it to the bar. Her slim right hand picked up her cigarette from the ashtry and brought the smoking cylinder to her lovely, sensuous lips. Smoke issued slowly through her pinched nostrils.
In many ways, I thought to myself, she is a beautiful woman. Although her features were irregular, but all together they represented an attractive sight to behold.
"Is Odell working on anything right now?" I asked, trying to keep from concentrating on her.
"I think so," she answered. "What is it?"
"Ask Odell, when he comes in, but I think it's you life story."
"Oh, come on, Estelle, stop teasing," I said hoarsely. "What would be so interesting about my life?"
Estelle shrugged, looked at me and couldn't help laughing. 'Odell says you're over-sexed. I'd be interested in reading about something like that"
I sighed heavily. "What would you like to know? I'll tell you." I started to light another cigargette, but my hand was trembling and I fumbled the cigarette.
"I've embarrassed you, haven't I? she asked solemnly. "I do apologize."
"No, that's quite all right," I assured her, then drained my glass. Estelle got off the stool and started around the bar to refill my glass when we heard the front screen door slam shut and Odell's booming voice.
"Where is that cocker?" his voice demanded.
"We're in her. Odell," his wife called out to him. "In the bar."
Odell appeared a moment later with several containers of mix. He sauntered over to the bar and relieved himself of the containers. Extending his hand to me, he said "Let me look at you, you bum." Odell's hair had turned quite gray and he walked with a slight stoop. "What do you think of him Estelle? If you ask me, I'd say he's gotten better looking. A few years has filled him out." Then directing his remarks back to me, he concluded. "It's good to see you, Archer, my boy."
"I feel good about being here," I said as I eased off my barstool and embraced Odell affectionately. "You old bastard. You've gotten a few years older and fatter, but you appear to be in great shape."
"I am," Odell replied, turning his attention back to his wife "I have Estelle to thank for that. I've never been happier."
"What would you like to drink?" Estelle injected. "I'm making another scotch and soda for Archer."
"Make mine the same," Odell requested. His gray eyes narrowed as they turned back to study me. I know those eyes were contemplating the reasons for my return to Richfield. "So what happened? Did you knock up some teeney-booper in San Francisco and have to get out of town?"
"Odell, I've already asked him that and embarrassed the poor boy once," Estelle explained. "Don't you do it too."
"No, that's okay," I offered. "Odell and me...."
"Odell and I," Odell corrected.
"Odell and I have never mixed words, have we, Odell?"
"No, and I know you well enough to know you had to have a pretty damn good reason to return to Richfield."
"I did, Odell, You're right. They were gunning for me."
"What about your job with the phone company?"
"I just walked out on it."
Odell sighed. "You idiot. When are you going to leave the damn women alone?"
I turned away from him, stealing a glance toward his wife for her reaction, and began rubbing my chin nervously. "Maybe now. I think I might be ready to settle down."
"No might or maybe!" Odell snapped. "You got to cut out all your whoring around and concentrate on doing something with a future."
"I plan on doing just that," I retorted earnestly. I'm going to fix over the folks shack and start painting again."
"We'll see," Odell doubtfully shook his big graying head and gulped at the drink Estelle had set before him.
An awkward silence fell. Estelle abruptly pulled out from behind the bar and announced I'll see about getting dinner on the table. Her hips moved enticingly as she left the room. I ripped my eyes away from her fascinating curves and studied Odell's puffy face. I noticed new lines in his face and the old ones running from his nose to around the sides of his mouth had deepened. I was suddenly aware that my friend had aged considerably.
"What do you think of her?" he asked abruptly.
"Think of who?" I replied.
"Of Estelle, of course."
"She's wonderful, Odell. You really picked a winner. I liked her the moment I saw her."
Odell chuckled. "Don't you get any ideas about her like you do about every other woman you meet." There was a seriousness in his tone.
"Oh, come off it, Odell. What do you think I am?"
"I know what you are. You're a horny cock-man, who never gets enough." To soften the seriousness of his accusation, he gave me a good-natured jab in the ribcage. "I realize Estelle is a lot younger than I am. The older I get the more jealous I become of her, although she never gives me any cause."
"You are getting old," I affirmed. I felt exceedingly uncomfortable. I nervously cleared my throat, gulped down the rest of my drink and stood up. "I wonder if I could wash up before dinner, Odell."
"Of course my boy. I'll show you to your room."
"My room?"
"Yes," Odell explained. "We're expecting you to stay here tonight."
"No, I don't want to put you out," I objetced.
"Donf be silly, Arch! You can't stay in your folk's place tonight. You've got to get the gas and lights turned on, get the place cleaned up. Until the place is livable, you're staying here with us. It's all settled and I don't want my buts."
Odell showed me to the guest room on the second floor and then left to get my suitcase out of the car. I felt tired and nervous. Before washing up, I flopped down on the bed, lit another cigarette, then leaned back and closed my eyes. I felt like crying. Odell was my oldest and most loyal friend. I was indebted to him in more ways than I could count ... and most of those debts I had yet to repay.
I knew now I had made a mistake in returning to Richfield. Damn it! Why did I have to be the way I was? And why the hell did Odell have to have such an attractive wife that churned up all sorts of lusty desires in the pit of my stomach. Right then and there I was plotting ways in which I could have her. It was ridiculous, I know, competing with Odell, but there it was, I'd go out of my mind, if I didn't get into Estell's pants.
Angrily,' I crushed out my cigarette in the tray on the night table next to the bed, and wondered how I was going to get through the dinner, sitting across the table from Estelle and restraining an urge to stare holes through her.
I heard Odell returning with my suitcase, I leaped off the bed and crossed into the bathroom to avoid him. I was afraid that Odell, knowing me the way he did, might detect the sensuous torment in my face.
CHAPTER NINE
I WAS THROBBING WITH DESIRE FOR THIS WOMAN....
How I got through the dinner that evening, I'll never know. I tried to direct my conversation to Odell for the most part in order to avoid looking at Estelle. I know she sensed it and must have thought that I did not like her. I ignored her to the point of being almost rude. When I did glance at her beautiful face, my heart started pounding, I fumbled with my fork and knife, dropped my food. It was most embarrassing.
I was thankful that Odell had a bug up his ass about doing a story about a young guy like me who was obsessed about sex and was on his own from the time he was seventeen years old. He did most of the talking during dinner, and I just kept agreeing with everything he said, because my mind was not on what he was saying. It was on his beautiful wife, who sat at the opposite end of the table. I sat in the middle. When I directed my attention to Odell ... or pretended to ... I did not have to be tortured by the sight of Estelle.
After dinner we retired to the rathskeller for a nightcap. Odell was in the habit of watching the news on TV, which we did over a brandy. During the news, it was announced that Senator D.'-'s daughter died in the hospital as a result of injuries received in a car accident.
I went numb. Then my stomach started turning over and I felt I was going to be sick. It was all in my mind, however. I excused myself saying I was very tired and needed sleep. Actually I just had to be alone. Once in my room. I sat in an armchair with my head in my hands, unable to think straight, unable to feel anything. My mind was a turmoil of guilt and grief. My heart ached for a young girl I had indirectly destroyed, and at the same time my body craved the wife of my best friend. I could not control the animal craving of the dark, tortured soul I possessed. I was a helpless prey to the demands of the sensuous animal within me.
I slept until almost noon the next day. I was awakened by a knock at the door. I slept nude, thinking it was probably Odell, I pulled up the covers and instructed the visitor to come in.
To my startled dismay, it was Estelle!
She entered the room carrying a breakfast tray. "Good morning, sleepy-head!" She crossed to the bed and placed the breakfast tray on my lap. It contained eggs, bacon, orange juice and piping hot coffee.
"What are you trying to do?" I asked. "Spoil me?"
"No, but I would like to convince you to stay with us for a few days ... until you get settled."
I took a quick sip of the steaming black brew in the coffee cup and swallowed nervously, then I glanced up at Estelle. She was sitting on the edge of the bed regarding me with a cold eye. "I don't want to wear out my welcome right off. In a couple of months, I'll be over here all the time to see Odell and you'll be sick of me."
Her eyelashes blinked. "Well, I hope you'll be coming to see me too, Archer. I hope you will consider me your friend too."
"Oh, I do, Estelle," I assured her quickly.
She eyed me for a moment in silence. "You don't approve of me, do you?"
I gulped hard. "What makes you say that?"
"Last night at the dinner table, you did your best to ignore me."
I couldn't have her thinking that I disliked her. I had to explain things so that she understood. "No Estelle, believe me, it's just the op-psite. I'm sure Odell has told you about me and this thing I have for women. The trouble is I like you too much, Estelle."
A momentary frown crossed her face. "You mean you want to go to bed with me, Archer?"
"Yes," I admitted openly. "Yes, I would. And because Odell is my friend, I wouldn't want to do anything to hurt him ... or endanger that friendship."
Estelle laughed lightly, as if she did not take me seriously. At least she was doing a good job of letting me know she was not afraid of being alone with me. "You know what I think, Archer? I think young men like you really hate women subconsciously and you only want to hurt them."
"That's generalizing, Estelle. It doesn't include all men. It doesn't include me. I love women. I know I've hurt some, but I never did it intentionally ... or I did it for their own good."
"You see. You can't help it," Estelle retorted. "I'm not convinced, Archer. I can spot a misogynist a mile way."
"Please, Estelle, don't think of me that way. Wait until you get to know me better."
"Well, that's why I want to stay with us a few days. It will give us a chance to become friends." She stood up and crossed to the window." I need a friend right now. Archer ... somebody I can talk to ... somebody who knows Odell."
"Why? Is something wrong?"
I was shocked to learn that one of Estelle's chief problems was Odell's inadequacy as a lover. "It's only been in the last year," she told me. "I've tried to get him to go to a doctor, but he refuses. It's his male pride or some equally stupid reason. I don't think it's anything serious. It may be his drinking, or it may be his metabolism ... something that can be corrected."
She was telling me that she was starved for love ... that she was being denied in the marriage bed. She was letting me know exactly how accessible she was. Her lovely eyes peered into mine and an electric current shot through my loins. I could feel a growing erection underneath the bed sheets.
Estelle turned her back to me and stared out of the window. A moment later her back and shoulders were shaking and I knew she was crying. I had an overwhelming desire to comfort her.
"Where is Odell?" I asked softly.
"He went into town to arrange to have the gas and lights turned on in your place, and to arrange for a telephone." Her voice was filled with bitterness and despair.
I lifted the tray off my lap and placed it to one side af the bed. I then threw back the bed sheets and slipped out of the bed. As I said I was naked ... and my joint was throbbing with anticipation and desire for this woman. It was impossible to subdue my ardor.
As I crossed to her, Estelle had her back to me. Standing directly behind her, I placed my arms around her waist, inadvertently lifting it so that my hand touched her left breast, I felt an instantaneous surge of desire. I stepped back and started to move away. But the next thing I knew, Estelle had turned around and was staring down at my pulsating joint. Then her arm reached out and was pulling at my shoulder, drawing me closer to her. A moment later, and a vow was broken. She was kissing me passionately, her hot tongue sinuously curling around mine. My hands began to knead the softness of her breasts. "Mmmm" she murmured, without breaking our kiss. She ripped her housecoat open, exposing the resilient mounds of her small firm breasts to my hands. I grabbed her shoulders, spun her about and backed her up to the bed. She fell back and I sprang on top of her.
Now her fingers were all over me, touching, stroking, probing. One hand moved gently over my chest, rubbing my nipples, while her other hand ventured between my legs, grabbed my joint and squeezed it hard.
She was trembling violently and moaned as I licked her ears and her neck. Then I moved to her breasts and playfully bit the rigid flesh around her nipples. For some time I sucked her breasts, and then moved downward, trailing my tongue over the smooth soft plains of her belly. She gasped when I reached down to her apex. She threw her legs apart violently. Then a few more strokes later, she closed her legs around my bobbing head.
As I continued to make love to her with my tongue, she raised her head slightly, screamed, then covered her mouth with her hand and fell back on the bed. She kept moaning steadily.
I stretched out beside her and waited, my legs spread apart. After an interminable time. Estelle rose and poised herself over me, her fine, firm small breasts dangling. She lowered herself allowing the swinging mounds of flesh to touch me and torment me. Now it was my turn to moan.
Estelle moved slowly sideways over my joint, back and forth. She was panting steadily now as she paused to stare at her objective, hot-eyed. With a deep sigh, she swooped down on me, her soft oval-shaped mouth burning, grazing, tormenting the flesh of my rod with her teeth and tongue.
She clawed at my thighs, never losing what she held in her mouth. Her pace then began to quicken. As a result of her storke, I bucked and emitted a low groan. She was draining me to the core. But I did not object. For the love of this woman, I would submit to anything.
I would even be her slave.
All thoughts of Laura vanished. Present passions quickly replaced past nightmares. This woman needed me as desperately as I needed her.
* * *
At the intersection, behind the wheel of my Mustang, I shot across the highway onto a dirt road. I drove over the bumps for about a half mile before I pulled into a rutted, weed-gown driveway beside the small, weathered white shack that my family had worked most of their live to own. I withdrew my suitcases from the back seat of the car and strode purposefully across the shaggy green and brown lawn to the rickety porch. Inside, I was pleasantly surprised. Estelle had arranged to have the place cleaned up. She herself had put up new curtains at the windows, and added homey touches here and there which helped to make the place liveable. All these things had been done in secret trips, while I remained as a guest at Odell's house.
The kitchen was neat and clean. All the dishes and cups had been washed and put away. It wasn't a palace, but it was comfortable far beyond what I imagined would be possible. Odell had arranged for the gas and lights, so I was able to make myself a cup of coffee.
Flopping troubled and exhausted into a chair in the sitting room, I sipped at my steaming cup of coffee while I contemplated a few of my immediate problems. Odell's marriage to Estelle was on the brink of breaking up. I could not add to its desrtuction. That meant I had to stay away from Estelle. The more I saw of her, the more I would want her. I could not be responsible for ruining another's happiness, not again, especially not Odell's. It was still haunted by guilt over Laura's death.
I had to keep myself busy, my mind occupied. Painting seemed like the right kind of therapy. I was thankful that I had the sense to take my paints and canvasses with me when I made my hasty departure from Frisco.
Immediately I started to prepare a canvas. I laid out my paints, and then over a second cup of coffee, I sat speculating over a subject to paint.
There was a timid knock at the door.
I opened the door to discover a young girl, about nineteen years old smiling up at me. "Hi! I just wanted to know if everything's all right."
She had a close crop of blonde hair framing an angelic face with one of the most winning smile I have ever seen. "What's everything." I questioned, completely puzzled.
"The place," she replied. "My name is Judy Criswell. I live just across the road from you. Sometimes I babysit for Mrs. Odell Brown. I've been helping her get your place in order."
"Oh, yes. Everything is fine, Judy," I returned happily. She stood in the doorway hinting to be invited in. Young as she was, she did not look like a student. Her manner was more mature. She wore a light green mini-skirt that fit snugly over her swelling hips and pointing breasts. She was a living doll. "Would you like to come in?"
Her small round buttocks undulated tantalizingly in a slow, saucy rhythm as she moved into the room. "Gee, I'm certainly glad somebody is living here now. This place has been vacant for so long."
"It belonged to my parents," I explained.
"I know. Your mother was a very sweet woman. When your father died, she was very lonely. I used to come over and talk to her. She told me all about you."
"Can I offer you a cup of coffee," I said eagerly.
"Yes, thank you. But let me get it." She noticed my paints and canvas. "I don't want to interrupt anything."
I felt a tremor of excitement race through me. I thought, here I go again. "You weren't interrupting anything, Judy," I said to her. "I was just waiting for you." She looked at me quizzically. "Are you busy this afternoon?"
She gave me the coy glance of a girl who is covering a suspicious nature. "What did you have in mind?"
"Would you sit for me. I need a subject."
"Oh sure," she reacted enthusiastically. "Nobody's ever painted my picture."
"I'll pay you a dollar an hour."
"A dollar an hour ... just for sitting?" she exclaimed. Then a thought occurred to her. She withdrew toward the kitchen and her happy expression changed to one of doubt. "I don't have to pose in the nude, do I?"
I laughed. "No, you don't' have to pose in the nude."
"Good. You got yourself a model." She crossed into the kitchen. She seemed to know where everything was I'll put on the kettle and make us coffee first.
I thought to myself, this girl would be handy to have around ... if I could just keep my hands off her ... and keep everything on a platonic level for a change.
Judy returned from the kitchen with two mugs of fresh-perked coffee which she set down on the coffee table. They both have milk and sugar. She informed me. "One lump of sugar in yours."
"How did you know I like milk and one lump of sugar?"
"Your mother told me. I know everything about you, Mr. Nelson. I've even seen pictures of you, naked, as a baby." She seated herself on the sofa and removed a package of cigarettes from her dress pocket.
I brought out my lighter with a trembling hand. Judy steadied it with her own. The touch of her soft, youthful fingers sent waves of desire through me. Inhaling deeply, Judy looked up at me, a meaningful glint in her dark blue eyes. I took out a cigarette for myself, dropped it on the floor, fumbled it to my mouth and clumsily lit it.
After we had coffee, I positioned her in a chair where the light was good. Then I sat in front of her with the canvas balanced on my knee and began to sketch in her head and shoulders. The more I studied her, the more lovely she seemed to me.
"Do you live with your parents, Judy?"
"My mother. My father is dead. Last week my aunt, my mother's older sister, came to visit us and now we can't get rid of her."
"Isn't she company for your mother? I mean, doesn't she help out?"
"Lord no," Judy replied adamently. "She makes more work for us. She's a drag." She went on to explain that her aunt Cleo was in her fifties and had never been married. She was very neurotic. "She doesn't drink. She can't stand me smoking. It makes her cough. I've had to get rid of my cat. She's scared to death to turn on a light or touch wires. She's afraid of electrocuted."
"Wow," I commented. "She is a nut!"
"That's an understatement," Judy continued. "Another thing, she's afraid to sleep alone. She's got some quirk about a man breaking into the house and trying to rape her while she's sleeping. So mother and I have to take turns sleeping in the same room with her. And she snores." She had an adorable girlish giggle that was enchanting.
"Why does your mother put up with it?" I asked, absorbing every inch of Judy with my eyes. "Why don't you just kick her out?"
"Mother feels sorry for her," Judy replied. "Whatever mother tells her that she has to go, Aunt Cleo breaks into hysterical tears and threatens to commit suicide because nobody loves her. I believe once she did take an overdose of sleeping pills and they had to pump out her stomach." She giggled again. "The poor old thing ... I do feel sorry for her, but she drives me bats sometimes."
"You ought to try to find her a man," I suggested.
Judy burst into laughter. "Oh, if a man comes near her she has a heart attack. Honestly! She paused to allow her laughter to subside, then sighed deeply. "That's why I'm so glad you've moved in."
"Why?" I chuckled. "Do you think Aunt Cleo will see me and have a heart attack?"
"Oh, Lord," Judy screamed. "You know that could happen. But what I mean is ... it's nice to have a neighbor I can visit occasionally."
"You come over any time you want to, Judy," I said invitingly.
"I hope you mean that, Mr. Nelson. It would mean a lot to me, but I hope I can be of some help to you."
"You are," I replied. "Where could I find such a lovely model to pose for me."
Judy leaped out of her chair gleefully. "Mrs. Brown said you were absolutely wonderful ... and very handsome. And you know something. You are." She leaned over without warning and kissed my cheek.
A thrill shot through me and seemed to electrify my blood all the way down to my toes, "Thank you, young lady."
"Let me wait on you," she suggested, as she offered a cigarette and lighted it for me. "If you can spare me for a few minutes, I'll pour you another cup of coffee. Would you like that?"
I leaned back, smiling, and inhaled smoke as I studied her cheerful, refreshing face. As I stared at her I saw a flush spreading over her lovely features. "I think I would like anything you do, Judy."
"Thank you for the compliment," she said as she darted into the kitchen and return a moment later. "I think it's important for a girl my age to be around an older man ... So I know what a man likes. I mean, someday I'll be getting married. Lord, I'd hate to wind up like Aunt Cleo."
She bubbled when she talked. That's the only way to describe her to you. She was a lot like Laura, only not as knowledgeable or sophisticated. She had had none of the finer things in life, and yet she was grateful for so little, and had a zest for living that was so damned disarming I dropped my sketch pencil, put down my easel and just sat looking and listening to her with my mouth open and drooling.
"Oh, are you giving up so soon," she asked. "I'm not tired." She went back to her chair and assumed her position.
"I just thought that we would sit and talk for awhile," I explained.
"No," she replied firmly. "That's no good. When you start something, you should finish it. Mrs. Brown said you were very restless. What you need is somebody like me around to shame you into working."
"Oh, I want to do this painting," I assured her. "You're the most interesting subject I've had in a long time. But couldn't we relax for awhile, talk and get to know each other?"
"We can get to know each other while you're working," she said bossily.
"Yes, ma'am," I said and resumed sketching.
"If we aren't busy doing something," she chattered on, "pretty soon you'll be looking at me and I'll be looking at you ... and first thing you know we'll .both get ideas. We'll get all heated up-and that would spoil our entire relationship."
"Would it?" I said.
"Of course it would," she replied. "Love is something very special between two people. You have to work at it and let it grow gradually. I have sex urges, just like you, but I don't jump into bed with the first man I see because he appeals to me."
"Do I appeal to you, Judy?"
She released a tiny girlish squeal. "Oh, do you; I've never met a man of the world like you before."
"You're not afraid of me?"
"No, you're very nice. Why should I be afraid of you?" The fact that you're oversexed I think is quite interesting."
"Now how do you know I'm oversexed?" I found her remark quite alarming. I began to wonder if I was that obvious to all women.
"You're mother told me all about you. She said it was her fault that you're the way you are, and I think I understand why you have this terrible drive."
I was stunned by this bit of information. "Just what exactly did my mother tell you?"
"Oh, everything!" she answered wide-eyed and innocently. "I don't know if I know you well enough to discuss it. Do you think it would be okay if I called you Archer. I like that name, incidentally."
"Please, feel free to call me Archer, if you think it will put us on a more personal basis." She could be quite exasperating at time, but it was always overshadowed by her exuberant manner and youth.
"Thank you, Archer. I guess it is sort of silly not to discuss things openly. It's unhealthy, don't you think. I mean why should sex be a big deep dark mystery. I think that's what's wrong with Aunt Cleo."
Judy, as you were saying ... about what my mother told you."
"Oh, well, she said you were a beautiful big baby. She wanted you to grow up to be strong and very manly, a man that all women would fall in love with. So when you were still just a baby, she said used to massage your ... thing."
"Massage what thing?"
"You know your thing." She leaned forward in her chair and whispered, "Your penis."
I think I must have blushed purple. "My mother told you she did this?"
"Yes, she said it was an old Greek custom. Mothers did it to insure that their sons would be virile, and so their penises would grow long, and they would be able to have many children. By massaging it at an early age, your mother said it stretched and developed too early in your childhood and that your sexual prowess was attained while you were still a growing boy. But she was very proud of you, Archer. She said, whatever wrong my son has done, he is a man, not a sissy."
I gulped hard. This was something I had never known before, and it had come out in a casual conversation with a nineteen year old girl. It might have taken a phychiatrist ten years to get to the root of my problem. This revelation left me speechless. I felt terribly exposed. I got up from my chair, dropping the canvas to the seat, and crossed to gaze out the door.
Judy followed me over to the door. She took my hand and squeezed it gently. "Don't be ashamed, Archer," she said softly. "There's nothing wrong with being oversexed, once you decide to spend the rest of your life with one woman."
She summed it up so simply and beautifully. She was a rare child with deep sensitivity and insight. It came to her naturally, without pretentions or phony airs. I stared at her unbelievingly. This young and delightful creature, whom I had known for less than an hour, had hit at the root of my problem.
"Are you angry wtih me for telling you what I did," she said softly.
"No, Judy. I'm very grateful to you."
"If it will make you feel any better," she bubbled on, "I'll tell you a secret about me ... something I've had a terrible time fighting. I'm a virgin! Now are you ready for that ... a girl my age in this day and age when morals are so low and sex is an every day occurrence?"
I couldn't help smiling at her. "Are you ashamed of it?"
"No, I'm not, Archer. I don't think a person should ever be ashamed of what they are. That goes for you too. If I were you, I'd be proud of what I was. Like your mother said, you're a man ... all man. With all the queers there are around today, that's something to boast about."
She had such a sweet way of making everything seem right. "How do you feel about a guy like me, Judy. Aren't you afraid I might attack you?"
She giggled again. "Well, I'll tell you something, I'd be very upset with myself, if you didn't try. And if you did, I wouldn't be afraid of you. I'm sure if I said no, you're the kind of gentleman who would respect my wishes."
"You mean you don't' think I hate women and deliberately try to hurt them."
"Never. You couldn't. You're a charmer, Archer, but not a brute."
I crossed back into the room, brushing past her. As I did my arm touched the tips of her extremely pointed breasts. It was all I could do to keep from grabbing her right then. Only my desire to be respected by her kept me from obey-iny my sexual impulses. I reached for a cigarette off the coffee table, popped it into my mouth and offered one to her. She crossed to me closer and accepted one appreciatively.
"You're a nice kid, Judy. I like you, but I wouldn't want you to have any illusions about me."
You wouldn't believe what this kid replied. She said, "Archer, I can't afford illusions. I have to look at things the way they are."
Can you imagine a broad reeking with sexual allure, who was this profound? I can't. I had to put it to the test. No woman has ever refused me-at least not once they got a gander at me stripped. I think woman the world over are basically the same. You can beat them, cheat on them, starve them, force them to go to work and support you. You can tell them you're a thief, a murderer, and it won't matter. As long as you shove a joint into them regularly, they'll stick by you. Stick by you, hell. You can't get rid of them.
The question remaining was how different was Judy from the rest of the woman I have known.
I had to find out.
Without warning, I grabbed Judy and crushed her plump curves against me. I brought my mouth down and was immediately rewarded with the stab of her eager, energetic tongue. We dueled silently, in a passionate struggle that soon had us both panting hoarsely.
My hands slid down to her swelling buttocks and began to knead and prod the resilient flesh.
Judy moaned and stiffened in my arms. I lightly nibbled on her tongue. Judy flooded my mouth and playfully bit back.
My right hand moved to her great soft breasts, first one and then the other.
I squeezed hard, and felt her flesh grow rigid against my palm. My hand kept going from her right breast to the left one.
Moaning again, Judy began to rub her groin against mine. God, she was almost as hot as I was!
I stepped back a little and reached a hand under Judy's miniskirt to stroke the nylon covered hillock at the conjunction of her well-developed, youthful thighs.
Judy, greedily sucking on my tongue, swung her hand down to the front of my trousers, grasping my joint desperately, squeezing it tightly.
I grunted like a bull and began to pull down her thin panties. The second she felt my hand tugging away, she pulled back and stepped away from me.
"No, Archer ... that's as far as I go until we know each other better."
Hallelujah! She refused me. But it wasn't enough. Let her eye my joint and then refuse me. No woman ... or man ... ever had had enough principles to turn their backs on my sexual deformity.
Mama's creation!
I unbuckled my belt, unzipped my fly and exposed myself to Judy. It stopped her cold at first. She stood gaping. Her body was rigid, her hands were trembling. Then she took a deep sigh and closed her eyes. A moment later her body relaxed. I moved toward her, one step at a time, but she did not panic. Instead she searched my eyes for understanding. When I was standing so close to her I could feel her breath, she slowly raised her arms and cupped my face in her hands.
"No, Archer," she said tenderly. "If I didn't think that I could love you, I might say yes." With that she kissed me warmly on the lips, then broke and ran out of the shack.
She astounded me! She was the first girl who had ever said "no." It was unbelievable!
CHAPTER TEN
SHE CLAWED AT ME LIKE A WILD THING....
It was shortly after nine o'clock in the evening. I was stretched out on the floor with the lights out, listening to records and thinking about a most unusual young lady who answered to the name of Judy.
A piercing scream from across the road cut through the soft music.
I leaped to my feet and ran to the door. Standing in the doorway to my shack gazing at Judy's house across the road, nothing seemed to be out of order. I was contemplating going over to investigate, when Judy flew out of her house and ran across the road to my shack. During her flight, there was another piercing scream that came from her house.
"What's is it, Judy? What's wrong?"
It's Aunt Cleo. I think she's having a fit. Mother and I can't handle her. Would you come?
"Of course."
I shut the door to the shack and followed Judy across the road. She paused in front of the battered front door and turned around to me. "When she sees you, Archer, I warn you it's going to be a shock. She has an idea that men are poisonous, so be prepared.
I braced myself, and followed Judy into the house.
A gray-haired little woman with a distressed expression on her face stood in the center of the room waiting. Judy crossed into her.
"Mama, this is Mr. Nelson from across the way."
"How do you do, Mrs. Criswell?"
"Hello," the woman said warmly but weakly. "I knew your mama. She was a good woman."
"Where's Aunt Cleo?" Judy asked somewhat grimly.
"In the kitchen crying," replied Mrs. Criswell. "She says she's gonna kill herself, if we leave her alone."
The kitchen door burst open and a slim figure of a woman appeared in a worn-out terry cloth robe and ragged slippers. "Who's out here?" She stopped dead as she caught sight of me standing in the center of the room. "Oh" she squealed," a man!
"Cleo, this is our neighbor from across the way," Mrs. Criswell introduced. "Mr. Nelson."
"Was that you I heard screaming, Aunt Cleo?" I said as I extended my hand.
She took my hand reluctantly, inspecting it first to make sure it was clean. Her hand felt damp and cold. "My sister has mice," she stated) her beady eyes glaring malevolently at Mrs. Criswell. "She catches them and then let 'em go, just to scare me." Quite obviously she wore nothing underneath the old terry cloth robe, but it didn't matter. She had very little to conceal. She was hopelessly flat-chested.
"You know, Aunt Cleo, I'm a great mouse chaser," I said slowly and softly in order not to confuse the old girl. "Take me to the kitchen and show me where you saw the mouse."
"But I don't know you," Aunt Cleo exclaimed.
I leaned forward and whispered in her ear. "I'm here to help you, Cleo. I want you to tell me privately what's going on."
"Oh terrible things," she moaned, as she led the way into the kitchen and closed the door. "Are you the police?"
"No," I confessed. "I'm just your neighbor. I heard you screaming and I came to protect you."
She stared at me with misgivings. "To protect me?"
"Yes, ma'am." I pulled up a chair and sat at the kitchen table prepared to listen to a long tale of woe ... anything to win her confidence.
"Oh, that's nice of you," she said as she crossed to the kitchen stove and poured two cups of coffee. "My sister is an evil, evil person. She hates me. She tortures me sometimes."
She returned to the table with two cups of coffee and sat in a chair next to mine.
"How does she torture you, Aunt Cleo?"
"Oh various ways, like scaring me with the mice. I have a weak heart and I think she's trying to scare me to death."
"Well, let me tell you about the mice. I have them too, but they're little field mice that have been released by a hospital laboratory. You see we've had an invasion of a poisonous insect that's been destroying all the crops in this area."
"Is that the truth," she murmured in awe.
"Yes ... and these little mice are the only creatures who eat the insects. So if you see a mouse, just remember that it's doing a job ... it's helping to rid us of these hideous insects."
"Is that the truth," she repeated again. "I detest insects too."
"But you see your sister didn't release the mice to scare you."
"Well, maybe not," she admitted reluctantly. "But I get so nervous, I don't know what to believe sometimes. I suffer from awful migraine headaches."
"You don't say. Would you believe I suffer from them too?"
"Is that the truth," she sad as she slurped her coffee. "What do you do about them?"
"Take long walks, and while I'm walking I do deep breathing exercises."
"Oh, does that help?"
"It works for me every time ... much better than pills."
"Oh, I never take pills. I'm a Chrsitian Scientist."
"Why don't you try taking long walks?" I suggested.
"Alone? No, I'd be afraid to go out alone. A lady isn't safe nowadays with all these mad sex maniacs on the loose. I read the papers. I know."
I learned forward. "Aunt Cleo," I said. "I was just about to take a walk. Why don't you come with me. The fresh air will do you a world of good."
She opened her beady eyes and glared at me suspiciously. But after a moment or two, she considered it. "I haven't been out of the house in days."
"Walk with me. I'll protect you, Aunt Cleo."
She gave me a. toothy smile. "You're a nice man to want to help me. Nobody else cares whether I live or die."
"I do, Aunt Cleo. Come on, get dressed, and we'll just walk out of here and leave your sister and Judy flat. We'll just leave them alone for a change."
Aunt Cleo clapped her hands gleefully. "Oh, that would serve them right, wouldn't it?" Stiffly, she got up from the table. "And we won't tell them where we're going, will we?"
"No ... we'll just let them worry."
"Good." The old girl shuffled out of the kitchen.
A few moments later Judy entered the kitchen, in a state of bewilderment. "She's getting dressed," she exclaimed. "Where are you taking her?
"Out for a little walk ... maybe a drive in the car, just to get her out for awhile."
"Archer, how on earth did you get her to agree to go with you? Mama and I are flabbergasted."
I smiled at Judy. "It's my charm!
Judy chuckled. "Even old ladies!"
"Oh, they are my best victims." I said. "Now if I can get Aunt Cleo to take a few drinks...."
"You'll never get her to take a drink. She thinks drinking is a sin."
"Want to bet I bring Aunt Cleo back here stoned out of her mind? If I can just pull her out of herself, I think it will make all the difference."
"Oh, Archer, if you only could," Judy sighed. "You don't know what Mama and I have to put up with."
"Yes I do," I said, taking Judy's hand in mine, and kissing her fingers. "For your sake, I hope I can do some good."
Judy leaned over and planted a kiss on my lips. "Thank you, Archer, for taking the time to do this."
"I have an ulterior motive." I teased. "If I make a new woman out of Aunt Cleo, you will be obligated to me."
When Aunt Cleo returned, she was wearing a faded floral print dress that was a size too large for her. "Let's leave here, young man," she said with a conspiratorial little smile. On the way out, she turned to her sister and warned. "You'll be sorry. I may not come back ... and you'll be left here alone. Maybe the poisonous insects will take over." Making her exit, she attempted a bold strut which was laughable.
We walked up the road for almost a mile, saying very little to each other, but taking deep breaths of fresh air. For awhile she was puffing like a locomotive and became wobbly on her feet. I knew the heavy breathing was making her lightheaded and dizzy. For a moment I thought the old girl was going to keel over on me, right there in the middle of the dirt road.
"How do you feel, Cleo," I asked solicitously.
"It's still there," she replied, "but it's getting less. My head feels light."
"You see. Fresh air and exercise relieves tension. That's what causes those migrains ... tension. Now if we only had a drop of my tonic...."
"Tonic? What tonic?" she said thickly, but with a gleam in her eyes.
"I have some very special tonic that my doctor has prescribed for my headaches. It's wonderful ... works miracles. After one dose, I feel like I've been reborn."
"Well, where is this tonic," Cleo said licking her lips, swaying slightly.
"At my place. Would you like some?" We can go there."
She pressed her claw-like hand to her forehead as if she was confused and in doubt. "There's not alcohol in it, is there?"
"Oh there might be a little in it," I replied. "Alcohol relaxes you, relieves tension ... like fresh air."
"Drinking is a sin ... an evil sin," she stated loudly.
"Now, Aunt Cleo, you know that's not so. If drinking was a sin, God would not have allowed whiskey to be invented. Why even the Catholic church allows its priests a little wine at Mass."
"That's very true."
"And I'm sure God doesn't want you to-suffer from pains in your head."
Well, I'll try anything, if it will make me feel better," Cleo announced. "Take me to your place for some of that tonic."
I took her arm and led her back down the road to my shack, where I planned to serve her some rare old brandy Odell had presented to me when I left his house. She stumbled quite a bit and I was forced to put my arm around her to keep her steady on her feet.
"Oh, dear," she protested with a light chuckle, "you behave yourself, you naughty boy."
I tightened my arm around her waist, drawing her closer to me and stroking her bony arm. Then I extended my finger to tickle her flat breast. She giggled out a vague protest. "You know, Cleo," I said," a good looking woman like you ought to have somebody looking out for you ... doing things for you."
"I don't have anybody," she trembled.. "Nobody cares if I live or die."
"I care, Cleo," I declared. "I'm going to make it my job to see that you get all the good things you deserve."
For a moment I thought she was going to cry. She paused in the middle of the road and all at once, the old girl threw her arms around my neck and pressed her scrawny body against mine. I'd never had an old spinister ... not one as old as Cleo ... but I'd heard that they are sometimes twice as passionate as young chics. I made up my mind that I was going to find out. I brought my mouth down over her thin lips and stabbed her with my tongue and she began to shake like an earthquake. I dropped one of my arms and squeezed her thin, bony thigh with my fingers. Then I felt her tongue dart out and explore the roof of my mouth. All the while she kept bumping and grinding her pelvis into my groin.
After a bit, she disengaged herself. "Oh, dear ... what's come over me. Maybe too much fresh air."
"The tonic will definitely calm you down, Cleo," I suggested.
"Well, what are we waiting for?" she replied and began to wobble down the rOad like a lame chicken, teetering a little to the right and then to the left. When she made up her mind about something, she was a determined old girl.
The moment we got inside my place, Cleo was so nervous, she had to go to the bathroom to relieve her kidneys. While she busied herself in the bathroom, I poured out two tall brandies, I turned the lights out and lit a few candles. Then I selected the most romantic music I could find on the radio. I needed all the help I could get to see me through this ordeal with the old girl. In a way I was punishing myself for all the wrongs I might have done to other women I didn't look forward to screwing the pants off this old broad but I wanted to do it. I knew it was what she needed, I figured I would think better about myself, if I did good for somebody else besides myself.
I braced myself for the ordeal by having a couple of shots before Cleo tottered out of the bathroom, adjustiing her loose-fitting dress. What a pathetic sight she was. I could hardly wait to get her stoned out of her mind.
"Where's the tonic?" she demanded. "Right here, Cleo, my girl, "I declared, holding up her glass, then placing it firmly in her hand.
Let me tell you, she gulped down that brandy like it was water and was soon asking for more, never questioning if it was alcohol or not. At one point she accused herself of being a naughty girl, but she didn't labor the point. Three glasses of brandy and old Cleo was on her feet waltzing around the room, bumping into tables and chairs. Once I thought she was going to fall flat on her face and I leaped up to catch her.
Snuggled in my arms, she began to weep on my shoulder. "Oh, this is naughty and wicked," she cried. "I've tried to be Godly, but it has only brought me misery and loneliness."
"Don't cry, Cleo," I said soothingly. "How do you feel now?"
She stopped crying long enough to consider how she felt. "Like I've ben reborn. Wonderful. I know I'm bringing doom and shame upon myself, but I don't care. I want to be broken in. Kiss me quick.
She grabbed me around the neck like a wrestler. I bent to my stask, thrusting my tongue deep into her moist, hungry mouth. She sucked on my tongue like a fiend. Maybe this would not be as distasteful as I thought.
I started to undo the buttons on her print dress and once this was done I began to stroke her flat, bony rump.
"Oh wicked ... wicked world," she sighed, but made no effort to disengage herself. "We will go to hell for this."
"Then let's go to hell, Cleo, and feel good while we're en route," I said, as I pulled down her dress and drew it off of her skin and bones. One shoulder strap of her soiled slip snapped as I tugged it away. Poor thing had no need for a brassiere. There was nothing to fill. She was as flat-chested as I was. I stared sadly at those nubs on her chest, then set my lips to them and was surprised to find that they grew amazingly under a prodding tongue. I kept this up until I produced a moan of joy from Cleo. She was beginning to get recharged and wiggled her body expectantly.
I reared back and grasped the top of her panties. As I began to move the panties down over those bony hips, I was smiling lasciviously at Cleo's moaning reaction. Her eyes were rolling to the back of her head, her neck was strained and her claw-like hands were doubled up into fists. Once her panties got past her buttocks, they just dopped to the floor and rested in a heap around her ankles.
With both hands, I lifted her frail body and dragged her to the sofa. She was like putty in my hands. The brandy had really affected her. She went limp on the sofa. Arching my back, I spread her legs and she began panting in short quick gasps. Already her eyes were slightly glazed. Carefully, I guided myself into her, remembering what she said about a weak heart.
"Oh ... oh, young feller," she squealed in my ear, and reared up at me.
Clutching those bony hips, I plunged deep into her socket. Immediately she began bucking like a mule. I hammered away at her unmercifully, sucking and biting her lips. The lights were low, fortunately, so I did not have to look at her. In the candlelight, she wasn't bad. She was most cooperative.
She grasped my rear end and clawed at my cheeks like a wild thing. All the while, she kept licking my neck. We were positioned well on the sofa, so I kept pounding away at her and decided against any variations. The normal way was thrilling enough for her.
The radio seemed to be cooperating as the music switched to an arrangement featuring dozens of sweeping plucking violins.
Higher and higher we traveled, plunging, rearing, my hard friction rasping her womanly softness. Believe me, the old girl was amazing. She wasn't bad ... not bad at all. She stiffened and screamed in a croaking voice. I rammed her again and again, making sure my final moments were the best. Then I felt myself giving way as life and passion burst forth in a great seeding flood of ecstasy.
Aunt Cleo reared once in her final struggle, gasped and momentarily blacked out.
Waving a glass of brandy under her nose, she came to quickly. Where am I?" she said in a firm voice.
I smiled, Aunt Cleo was like a woman reborn.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SHE RUBBED HER BODY SEDUCTIVELY AGAINST ME
"What on earth did you do to her?" Judy questioned the following morning.
"Why? Isn't she better?"
"Better? Judy exclaimed. "She's not Aunt Cleo any more. She was up at the crack of dawn this morning, in the kitchen making breakfast and singing at the top of her lungs. Mama and I can't get over the change. She hasn't complained once. Archer, you've got to tell me what you did to her."
"I got her drunk and raped her," I admitted.
Judy burst into laughter. "Oh, Archer, be serious. I know you didn't do that. She would have died of a heart attack."
"Don't underestimate Aunt Cleo." I informed my dream girl. "There's still plenty of life in that old girl."
"Please, won't you tell me what happened," Judy pleaded.
"Let that be Aunt Cleo's and my secret."
Judy came over to the shack every morning and made breakfast for me. Then she would tidy up the place and pose for me. In the period of a week, we were like a married couple only without a sexual relationship. We were affectionate with each other, kissing and fondling playfully, but that was as far as Judy allowed things to go.
By the end of the week, my work on the painting was completed. It was the best thing I had done. I had put my heart into that work. Something was happening within me. I could feel the change taking place in my mind and my body. Judy was in my thoughts constantly.
Sunday morning found us hiking for miles over the green countryside, holding hands, sharing each other's closeness.
"We're in trouble, Judy," I said.
"What do you mean," she answered with concern.
"Damn you, I've falling in love with you. I've tried to fight it, but it's no good."
"I think I'm falling in love with you too," she confessed.
"You only think?" I cried. "Let me kiss you and then tell me you're not sure." I threw my arms around her, pressed my body against hers. I hadn't had a women for days, which was unusual for me. Immediately, I felt a tremendous reaction.
"No, Archer, please," she pleaded. "It's dangerous. I'm not made of stone."
"Coward!" I jeered.
We laughed merrily, then despite her resistance, she kissed me hungrily. Then restraining her emotions, she broke free of me, took my hand firmly and led us back to the main road.
But I noticed she was breathing heavily.
Just the touch of her soft, smooth hand in mine, made my heart feel like it was going to burst. I had it bad for this girl, and I wondered just how long I could hold out.
One evening Judy made dinner for me, after which I took her to the movies. It was a pleasant evening in which nothing happened until we reached the front porch of her house.
Slowly and gently I pulled Judy to me and planted a meaningly kiss on her lovely mouth. She was so frighteningly young and beautiful. I was lost in the incredible sweetness of her soft, warm mouth as our tongues delicately sought each other and became entwined in the rapture of love.
My hand creeped over her full round breasts and she moaned softly and pressed my hand tighter against her body. Passion soared, caution was deserted, and my free hand crept beneath Judy's miniskirt to caress her soft, velvet thighs. But as soon as I began to move higher to the rear of her crotch, she closed her legs, imprisoning my fingers in a trap of flesh.
"No, my darling wonderful man," she sighed. "Please be patient with me." Though her breathing was rapid she pushed me back firmly but gently. Then she place a light kiss on my forehead.
I was gasping with desire. I leaned forward again and kissed the velvet smoothness of her swan-like neck, then nibbled at her shell-like ear.
"Archer?"
"Yes, Judy," I sighed. "Would you consider marrying me? I think I love you enough to satisfy all your desires."
I drew back and gazed in awe at the lovely golden face. Her eyes were brimming with tears.
I took her hand in mine and tears began to well up in my eyes too. I'd never felt like this before. Her sweet honesty and directness nearly broke my heart. "Tomorrow, Judy, if you'd have me. I'd try ... I'd try like hell to make you a good husband."
"Then let's think about it," she replied, leaning in to me and licking my lips with her tongue.
I tried to take her in my arms again, but she resisted and ran into the house before she broke down completely.
The following morning there was a phone call from Odell.
"Haven't heard from you for awhile," he said. "I thought I better check and see if you're still alive."
"I've been painting," I announced. "You've been carrying on with that young Criswell girl across the road," he corrected me. "Now how did you know about that?"
"Kid, this is a small town. It's not San Francisco. Word gets around. Your private life catches up with you quickly in Richfield." He exploded with a laugh. "They tell me that Estelle and I are getting a divorce."
I stiffened. "Are you, Odell?"
"Not to my knowledge, we aren't, but that's what they're chattering about in town. Are you going to be in?"
"Yes, why?"
"I'd like to drop over and talk to you."
"Why don't I drive over and see you, Odell? Your place is nicer."
"Okay. Can you come right away?"
"I'll leave now."
I took the painting of Judy with me to show to Odell. I wanted to find out if he saw any improvement in my work.
Odell had a drink ready for me when I got there. I flopped in an easy chair and took out my cigarettes as Odell examined the canvas of Judy with keen interest. I was sweating uneasily waiting for his opinion.
After a few minutes of holding the painting up to the light, examining the detail brush work, Odell announced, "Now you've got something, boy. This has dimension ... substance ... and style. But your style has changed from something harsh and bitter to something soft and delicate."
"I'm glad you like it," I beamed with relief. Odell's opinion meant something. It meant that perhaps I did nave a future.
"Man, you're in love," he stated abruptly, still studying the painting of Judy.
My head shot up. "What did you say?"
"You heard me correctly," Odell replied. "You got all the symptoms. That's good, kid. That means you'll be settling down. It also means everything in your past is dead and buried."
"Now, hold on," I interrupted. "I'm not married yet."
"You will be. Guys like you always get caught eventually, and not by those city girls ... but by sweet, wholesome country girls like Judy Criswell."
I flushed, but didn't deny that he was right. "So what did you want to see me about, Odell?"
"Now that you're getting serious about your painting, and it looks like you'll be hanging around for awhile, I want to get your life and adventures down on paper. I'm convinced it will make a good story ... a commercial one, anyway."
"So, you have my permission. Just give me a cut."
"You're going to have to do some work," Odell informed me. "Like what?"
"Well, I want you to set aside a couple of days a week, sit down with a tape recorder I'll get for you and just start talking about everything you remember."
"Everything?" I questioned.
"Everything ... in detail. Your sex life is what I'm mainly interested in ... 'cause that's what's going to sell. Later I'll compile everything and put it down on paper...."
"What are you going to call this book, I asked.
Modern Satyr," he announced, letting the title roll of his tongue. He drained his glass and crossed back to the bar for a refill. "Want another, kid?"
"No thanks. I'm still working on the first one."
"If it's okay with you, Estelle and I are going to have a little party for you in a couple of days ... sort of a welcome home party. It'll give you a chance to meet a lot of our friends."
"I've never had a party given for me. That will be very nice, Odell. Thank you. May I bring Judy?"
Odell paused to consider the request. "I don't think so, kid. Let's keep Judy out of it. It might spoil the image I want to establish for you."
I busted out laughing. Life was so ironical. Here I was trying to fight my image and my old friend Odell was trying to exploit it in Richfield.
What a man won't do for the Almighty buck!
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Brown's hugh front room was mobbed with half of Richfield there when I arrived, a half hour late. A mixture of noises assailed my eardrums as I made my way through the throng to the bar in the rathskeller room.
Odell came from behind and grabbed my arm affectionately. "Let me make you a drink, kid, and then I'll start introducing you to the guests."
I followed Odell back of the bar. "Who do these idiots think I am?" I questioned.
"A painter with a past," was Odell's answer with a wink. "They also know you're going to be the subject of my next novel."
While he was making me a drink, Estelle appeared in front of the bar, looking as lovely as I have ever seen her. She wore a tight-fitting black beaded cocktail dress that exposed a great deal of her cleavage.
"Good evening, guest of honor," she greeted. "Estelle, how lovely you look," I commented warmly.
Estelle shrugged. "You've never seen me dressed up, Archer. All the times you've been here, I've worn old housedresses and housecoats. It's about time I showed myself off." She turned to Odell. "While you're at it, dear, would you make one for me?"
"Sure," Odell said somewhat indifferently. It caused Estelle and I to exchange knowing glances. "Oh, kid," Odell went on, "Guess who's going to be here tonight?"
"Who?" I asked flatly, not really caring about the party or who was invited. I just wished that Judy was with me. It would have been our first party together and then it would have meant something.
Odell handed me a drink. "Lt. Ross Sculley," he informed me.
"Who the hell is Lt. Ross Sculley?"
"He's the guy that just got decorated by the President. A big hero. Got his legs shot off in Vietnam."
I shuddered. "A lot of good his decorations are going to do him now."
Ignoring my comment, Odell said, "I thought you may have heard of him. He's from San Francisco."
"Come to think of it, I may have read about him in the papers."
"I did an article about him for one of the national magazines. He's settled her in Richfield now. He has plenty of money, so he doesn't have to worry." Then Odell nudged me and leaned in. "He's also got one hell of a good-looking wife. Wait till you see her. She'll make the buttons on your B.V.D.'s pop."
In the next hour Odell must have introduced me to fifty people. I couldn't tell you who I met that evening ... except Lt. Ross Sculley and his wife.
Everybody was drinking fast, getting drunk and it didn't really matter who was there or what was said. At one point during the evening I was about to engage Estelle in conversation, when Odell tugged at my arm and pointed toward the couch in front of the bay window.
"That's Lt. Sculley over there," he told me. I glanced over and saw a clean-cut young man about my age seated somewhat stiffly. He had canes resting on either side of his legs. I remembered what Odell had said and suddenly realized that he wore artifical limbs. "And that lovely wench sitting next to him," Odell added, "is his wife. Isn't she an eye-opener?"
I studied the young lady closely. She looked familiar. She was blonde, with large soulful eyes and baby lips that were always opened and poised sensuously. The more I looked at her, the more convinced I was that I knew her. It was difficult for a guy like me, who had had so many women, to associate the place with the face. As I kept staring at her, Lt. Sculley started to ease himself off the couch. He was aided to his feet by two of the guests.
"It looks like he's leaving," Odell said. "Come on, I want you to meet him."
I grabbed Odell's arm and stopped him. "No, please, Odell, let it go. I think I know his wife."
Odell grimaced, then laughed. "Kid, you do get around. Your story is going to be a smash."
I saw Estelle approach Lt. Sculley and his wife and become involved in a. short conversation, after which Estelle led the war hero off toward the bedrooms, while his wife remained with the party. Once her husband had left the room, she was immediately surrounded by many admiring male guests. I ran after Estelle, to see if I could be of any service. I caught up to her in the hallway.
"Estelle, may I help you?"
Estelle turned. "Oh, Archer, thank you, no." She turned the much decorated war hero, who was braced with crutches under both arms. "May I present Lt. Ross Sculley, Archer Nelson."
Sculley smiled at me warmly and nodded. He could not offer his hand. "Forgive me, Nelson. I'm a little incapacitated."
Lt. Sculley is going to rest for awhile in the back bedroom," Estelle explained.
Sculley smiled heartily once again. "It's these damn artificial limbs. I'm not used to them yet. They pinch like hell. I've got to remove them for awhile."
"Can I assist you, Lieutenant?" I offered.
"Thanks, pal, but I can manage alone," he replied.
I liked him right off. He was a regular guy, a man's man, you couldn't help respecting. He had more of a beef coming than most of us, and yet he didn't solicit sympathy.
As Estelle guided him down the long hallway, I stood there looking after them. I wondered what I would do, if such misfortune was heaped upon me as it had been upon Lt. Sculley. He was a nice looking guy: He had a most attractive wife. I wondered what kind of sexual relations they could have had together. Not very active, I concluded.
I felt depressed and wanted to be alone. What I really wanted was to run out on the party, and spend the rest of the evening with Judy. But I couldn't do that to Odell. The next best thing was solitude in the backyard.
I had puffed half way through my second cigarette, when a female voice purred from behind me.
"If you want me, Archer, I will come to you tonight."
"What?" I said somewhat startled. Her statement came right out of the blue.
"It's all right now. I'm leaving Odell."
"Does he know?"
Estelle shook her head. "Not yet. I decided to wait until after the party."
I sat down beside her on the arm of her chair. She leaned her head to my chest, saying, "After tomorrow, we'll have nothing to keep Qs apart."
Solicitously, I put my arm around her, inadvertently touching her breast. I felt an instantaneous surge of excitement and started to pull away. But the next thing I knew, Estelle, was pulling my head down and kissing me passionately on the lips.
I jerked back. "No," I cried brokenly.
Estelle drew back and stared at me in blank astonishment. "Archer," she said, her hands lying limp on my shoulders, "There's nothing to hide anymore. After tomorrow, after I've talked to Odell, we can love each other freely, openly. Ever since that morning in the guest room, I've known it had to be you ... nobody else."
I grimaced, finding the scene painfully embarrassing. "Estelle, I'm sorry, but...."
"What is it, Archer? You can't deny that you want me?"
I moved her hands away and stood up. "Yes, I can, Estelle." My hand holding the cigarette was shaking. I put it to my mouth and inhaled deeply, Exhaling the smoke, I turned to look down at her. She was just sitting there gaping at me. "I ... I'm in love with somebody else," I announced softly.
She closed her eyes and gulped hard. When she opened her eyes again, she stared vacandy down at the rug. "And I based me decision to leave Odell on you ... because I thought ... what does it matter now?"
"I'm sorry, Estelle, if I led you to think...."
"You did," she replied flaring up in anger. "You son of a bitch. You sex maniac. Get out of my sight."
She leaped to her feet and stormed out of the room, bursting into hysterical tears as she disappeared up the stairs.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MY HEART POUNDED, AND I FELT MYSELF LOSING CONTROL....
A half hour later, I found myself standing on Judy's porch, banging on the front door. After awhile a light came on and Judy appeared in her nightgown and robe.
When she saw me, she was startled. "Archer, what is it?"
"Judy, come with me," I said with great urgency. "Right now, over to the shack. I've got to talk to you."
"What's wrong?" she inquired with concern.
I started laughing merrily. "Wrong? Nothing's wrong, my darling. Everything is wonderful. Please come talk to me."
"Now?" she questioned. "Archer, it's late! I'm not dressed."
"Trust me, Judy ... just across the road."
Judy hesitated, looked back to check her mother's bedroom door, then stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind her. I took her hand in mine and we raced across the road to my shack. Once we were inside, I placed my hands on Judy's shoulders, backed her up to a chair and made her sit. Once I had her as a captive audience, I explained the transition that had taken place within me.
"Judy, my lovely one, I'm a reformed man," I announced to her. "Honestly!" I told her about the party at Odell's and how I had resisted the advances made by Angela and Estelle. "Judy, do you realize what that means? I turned my back on two very attractive women whom I ordinarily would not have been able to resist. All I could think of was being with you. Your love has cured me, Judy," I concluded. "I'm not a sex maniac any more."
Judy smiled, then giggled. "Oh Archer, darling, you're a man. I doubt that you'll ever cease to be attracted to women, but maybe ... just maybe, you are learning to control it.
"I am, my own dear Judy. I am," I insisted. "And it's all because of you." I got down on my knees before her, took her hand in mind. "Now please say you'll marry me and put me out of my misery," I said pleadingly.
Judy gazed at me longingly, her eyes glowing. "If you're sure, Archer, you want me ... only me, I'd be very happy to become your wife."
I grabbed her and hugged her to my chest, then smothered her with passionate kisses. My heart began to leap and pound, and I felt myself losing control. I seized Judy and crushed her in my arms, pressing her lips to mine. She started to gasp hoarsely before I realized that I was squeezing the life and breath out of the poor girl.
She forced a smile. "Don't kill me with love, before you marry me," she joked, then returned my kiss.
Our tongues writhed and tangled and explored soft, warm wetness. My old libido started to surge and my temperature rose as I clung to her soft, delectable body, rubbing my rockhard maleness against her delicate femininity. My hands stroked her delightfully curved buttocks, and my fingers began to walk upwards on her robe and nightgown until I felt the flesh of her thighs.
This time Judy did not resist me. She would not make me wait any longer. She would not torment me.
"Oh, my darling," she whispered desperately. "If you knew how I've wanted to let you make love to me. It has been just as difficult for me to restrain myself as it has been to control you."
I groaned in ecstasy, and drew my arms tighter around her small frame. We both began to lose control now. I felt Judy's hand wander down my hip and over to my crotch, her fingers fumbling, groping, exploring, and once she found what she was looking for, squeezing it in desperation.
Then there was a determined knock at the door.
Judy and I sprang apart quickly and exchanged puzzled glances. I waited a few moments while Judy adjusted her robe and my wild surging passion subsided. I lit a cigarette with a nervous trembling hand before I finally went to the door and opened it.
Estelle paused in the doorway, looking from me to Judy standing motionless in the center of the room. Estelle had thrown a light sport coat over her black beaded cocktail dress. Her eyes were red from crying and her hair was slightly disheveled. Without waiting to be asked, she brushed past me and into the room.
I know why she was there. She wanted revenge. And the only way to get it was through Judy.
"I'm glad you're here," she said to Judy. Turning back to me, Estelle asked, "Is this the girl?"
"Yes," I said. "We're going to be married." Then I closed the door, fearing a showdown, and crossed in to Estelle. "Please," I begged, "don't make a scene."
"No scene, Archer," she said calmly, apparently in complete control of her self now. "But I do think this poor girl should be told about you. She should be warned, so she knows what she's letting herself in for."
"I know all about Archer," Judy ventured. "He's told me everything ... and I know exactly what I'm letting myself in for, Mrs. Brown. I love him and he loves me. I think that's enough for a good marriage."
Estelle laughed. "It would be, if you were marrying a normal man. But you're not! Archer is sexually abnormal. Ask my husband, who's known him since he was a boy. He'll tell you, about this man."
"There's nothing you can say about Archer," Judy insisted, "that will shock me."
"All right, then," Estelle said forcefully. "Let me tell you what he did to me?"
"I know, Mrs. Brown. Archer has told me."
This momentarily stopped her. She hadn't expected me to tell Judy about our relationship. "Did he tell you how he looked at me with those penetrating eyes, that sensuous smile ... right under my husband's nose ... how he gave me the impression that if I did not give myself to him, he would destroy himself? He gives that impression to every woman, dear girl ... young or old. He makes each woman think she is the most wonderful creature in the world and that he cannot exist without her ... as I'm sure he has done to you. He will keep after you, until you give in to him. He'll expose himself to you, torment you, drive you up the walls. But he'll never marry you. He can't. No one woman can ever satisfy him. I was foolish enough to think I was different. I was willing to give up my home, and my children, if necessary, for his love. Now that I've been had, now that his appetite for me has been satisfied, he goes on to another dish. So I warn you, if you give yourself to this ... this satyr ... just once, he'll never marry you. That's all I have to say."
Estelle turned on her heels and marched out the door slamming it shut.
Judy and I stood silently staring at each other for what seemed like an enternity. I knew Judy was hurt. All the things Estelle had said were true, and although Judy knew everything before, it was a stinging blow to have the ugly facts thrown in her face by one of my past victims.
Eventually Judy spoke. "I'm glad she said what she did, Archer. She made me realize something very important." Judy's voice was low and trembling. "I've been wrong to deny you until we were married. You must make love to me now ... tonight." She started to remove her robe, and once she had slipped out her arms, she allowed the robe to drop to the floor.
"Judy, don't be crazy. I love you and respect you. I'm willing to wait."
Yes, darling, you're willing to wait, but then I'd never know if you really loved me."
My head was clouded and confused. "What are you talking about?"
"Don't you see, Archer dear ... if we wait until after we're married, I'll never know if you only married me for sexual reasons. I would always have my doubts. But if I give myself to you now ... before marriage ... and you still wish to marry me, I'll know that you love me ... and not just my body."
Slowly she undid the ties on her nightgown and let it slip over her hips and drop at her feet. She stood before me, beautifully naked and unashamed, determined to put our love to the test.
Looking at her, I was ready to blow my mind. I could feel myself going tense and rigid, my muscles becoming paralyzed. Her body was pure fantasy and magic. I stared at it in dumb astonishment. There she was standing before me, offering herself to me. All I had to do was reach out and take it.
I felt my face growing hot. My eyes began to water, my arms and legs began to tremble. I longed to place my lips over the exquisite pink buds that were her nipples and devour them.
"Come, Archer, dear," she said, holding out her hand to me. "Take me."
I couldn't move. It was as if my feet were encased in cement. I just stood there in an agony of ecstasy, drinking in her beauty.
Then slowly, deftly, Judy started to advance toward me, until I could feel her sweet, hot breath upon my face. I was wound up like a clock, my alarm ready to go off.
She crushed her body against mine, lifted her lips to mine. Our tongues stabbed each other's mouths for an eternity of time. Judy reached down and began to undo my trousers, first loosening my belt, then unzipping my fly. My trousers fell to my feet. Following this, I felt her delicate little hands upon my hips, pulling at my shorts, tugging them down.
Once this was done, I was able to move for myself. Quickly, I whipped off my shirt, while Judy's fingers enveloped my throbbing joint, making it so unbelievably hard it became painful.
My hands reached under her arms and lifted her small body off the floor, pulling her into me, slowly but surely. As I broke through the tissue of her virginity, she screamed out in pain, then fell silent. Her arms were locked about my neck, her face nestled in my shoulder, our bodies glued together in a single unit. She was now hanging from my rigid flesh like meat on a rack.
I backed her up against the wall and forced myself against her. Her tiny body was wedged between the wall and my flesh. There was very little give, if any.
Kneading one of her fabulous breasts, I devoured her mouth and sucked at her feverish tongue.
Our mouths became flooded with lust.
My hand left her breast and glided slowly down her curvaceous hip to the flat plains of her stomach. Judy moaned and shivered. She pulled her lips away from mine and began to pant hoarsely.
"Oh, Archer ... I don't think I can stand any more. Oh, God ... you're too wonderful." She tightened her arms around me and I lurched harder against her small body. She uttered a cry of joy.
I reached behind her and grabbed her lovely soft buttocks, lifting her higher onto my ramming hook. She was crushed against the wall as I continued to pound myself against her abdomen.
In the white-hot frenzy of our united passion, I battered her delicate body into the wall. The old shack shuddered and a picture on the wall crashed to the floor. And still I pummeled her divine pneumatic flesh, sweat dripping from my face.
Judy cried out several times, her tiny body squirming and jerking.
I hammered away at her until we exploded together and were carried off to Paradise.
A short time afterwards, as we lay on the floor catching our breaths, recovering from a thousand shocks of ecstasy, Judy said softly, "Now tell me you want me to marry you."
"Judy, my dearest," I sighed, "will you spend the rest of your life with me?" I enveloped her in my arms and began kissing her all over her body.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
HOW MANY TIMES DID YOU MAKE MY WIFE...?
Judy and I were married in a simple civil ceremony with only Odell and Mrs. Criswell in attendance. Neither of us wanted a lot of hoopla, with well-meaning friends offering a lot of unwelcome advice. We wanted to start our marriage simple and uncluttered, and work up from there.
Richfield buzzed for a week about Estelle Brown walking out on Odell and taking the children with her. It came as a tremendous blow to Odell, who was given no warning until the day she left.
I went to see him that evening. He had been drinking. "Why did she walk out like that ... without giving me a second chance? I know as a lover I've been a flop, but don't the other things, count for something?" He buried his face in his hands and began to cry. He was a very lonely, dejected figure.
"Odell, would you like Judy and me to come and stay with you for awhile," I suggested.
He looked up at me with tear-stained, bloodshot eyes, then reached out for my hand and gripped it firmly. "Oh, kid, would you do that for me? This house is so big ... and without the kids ... and without Estelle ... well, I just don't think I could stay here alone. I'd go nuts."
Judy and I moved into Odell Brown's house, taking the back part of the house on the first floor for our own private use. Odell moped around for about two-weeks. He got very drunk every night and I generally had to pick him up off the floor and carry him to his bed. I was glad to do it. At last I was paying my debt to Odell.
Then one morning I got up and found Odell already up, shaven and making breakfast. "Today my boy," he announced with his old enthusiasm, we will begin your story."
After we had breakfast, we sat at the table discussing the project while we sipped a second cup of coffee. Judy was in the kitchen doing the dishes.
"Odell," I said, "why are you so interested in this particular project ... my story?"
"Only by doing your personal confessions can I arrive at the truth," he answered.
"The truth about what?"
"How many times did you go to bed with my wife?"
We looked at each other and we both started to chuckle.
