Lil Gordon has spent more than twenty years of her adult life living in the interior of Mexico (and she will probably not thank us for revealing that fact). Using her home outside San Miguel de Allende as a basis of operation, she spends most of her time traveling throughout the world. Her favorite city is Rio and her favorite hide-away is in downtown Grasse (near the French Riveria. .. where all the good perfume comes from).
She is an authority on wines and a collector of obscure cheeses and can whip up the most exciting toss salads we have ever encountered anywhere. She is love. And how the woman can write.
Take frail little piano prodigy Gale Trevor ... helpless pawn in the hands of her Svengali, Joe Stewart, the overly domineering piano teacher ... the overly horny piano teacher. He did not have the slightest idea, when he almost accidentally seduced the attractive child, that he would be unleashing an oral monster that would begin devouring her way to the heights of stardom. Yet, every man she encountered turned out to be nothing less than an appetizer for her voracious appetite.
Through it all, only Joe remained as her master, as controller and operator of the greatest little mouth of the century.
In Open Mouth & Busy Fingers, Lil Gordon makes it all come vividly to life, if at times she finds it necessary to use the more familiar terms of the gutter. . . . "That's the way it is, baby," she says.
One thing is for sure, it makes for a very entertaining and informative novel, and we hope that Miss Gordon will have a follow-up manuscript ready for Surrey House, Inc. in the very near future.
Now ... get ready for that eagerly awaiting open mouth. . . .
You will find the Rated X books, along with their companions, the Surrey Collectors Series and the HIS 69 gay titles at your favorite adult bookstore or newsstand each and every month. Serious collectors of strictly adult reading will want them all, side by side on their private book shelves for definite re-reading and ready reference.
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CHAPTER ONE
Joseph I. Stewart stood leaning against the rise of the old upright piano, the forefinger of his right hand keeping unconscious rhythm to the way the little girl manipulated the keys. She was only thirteen and she was in the last measures of Gastofsky's Prelude in G Minor, and as far as Joseph could remember, she hadn't missed a note. The crashing finish of the Polish prelude was about due; she would be tired when the music was through for it had been nearly a half-hour in full recital. It was, by his watch, an hour and a half until his next pupil, and that was adequate time to fuck Gale Trevor.
She was quite pretty, in a little-girl sort of way. Her face was remarkably relaxed for one so deeply into difficult passages, and her small but strong hands thumped industriously at the keyboard and made her breasts jiggle enticingly. Below her flailing hands, her thighs were compellingly spread so her feet could reach the worn brass pedals, and their subtle working was revealed by her up-inching mini-skirt. Joseph was tempted to reach down and run his palm up the smooth skin to what he guessed was at the juncture of her thighs and torso, but he restrained himself. Instead, he let his cock thicken and lengthen and his mind depart the serious business of earning ten dollars an hour teaching piano.
Then Gastofsky's Prelude in G Minor was finished. Gale Trevor sat in a mild slump, suddenly weary. Small dampness showed at the nape of her neck and turned her mouse-blonde hair a darker hue. She wiped her face in relief that the score was past, then rubbed her chest. Rubbed her breasts for they swelled like incipient melons under the tight bodice of her dress.
"Excellent, my dear, except for a passage or two," Joseph said without emphasis.
"And I thought I did it - so well," Gale lamented. She looked up at him and her eyes pleaded for more enthusiastic recognition. Pretty eyes and if he had his way, they'd be pleading for something else in a matter of minutes.
Joseph leaned forward and the hand that had been keeping time became a caressive palm on her cheek. "Well, perhaps, but I think - Gale, my dear, you're too tight, too intense!" His fingers became exploratory, wandering down her neck and pressing for the huge vein that nested under the alabaster skin. It was a trick he had learned years ago to cause a girl unexplained headiness. It seemed to work now with Gale. "You poor darling," he spoke softly. "A little girl, suddenly faced with becoming a grown woman! You're tremendously talented, you know, and that is the swan song of your youth! How can you play at children's games when every instinct cries for full womanhood? How can you divorce the demands of your mind and body for the sake of mere fetishism? My poor darling!"
"Wh-what is f-fetishism?" she asked, pressing to his palm.
"It's the horrible price girls are asked to pay for - chastity! Few people understand nor care that within you, talent has decreed a maturity, an aging that longs for fulfillment! Of course you are tight and intense! Within your soul lies a full grown, sensuous woman, aching to be free of the terrible bonds of youth! Until that woman is freed, you can never expect to achieve the heights I have planned for you!"
"Oh! What shall I do? I'll do - whatever you say, Mr. Stewart! Oh, I want so m-much to be a g-grand performer, like you say! Daddy will be so p-proud of me!"
"Of course he will, and so will I! And you must! You need only to free that inner woman, to cast aside the foolishness of childhood and live life to the fullest. In other words, be a - a woman!"
"Oh, yes, yes," Gale whimpered, and she was suddenly limp in his hands.
It was no shock to Joseph. They had been pupil and teacher for seven months, and had shared some laughter, and a great deal of rapport had developed between them. She believed in him implicitly for under his tutelage, she had accomplished things not normally achievable to a girl of her years. She was used to his hands because they were the instruments of learning. The one kneading her firm young breasts and the one rolling the meatiness of her hip were strange to Gale, but she was submerged in the spell of his words.
So was Joseph. Fuck had not been in his mind before her hour was due but fuck was very much in his mind and loins now. His words meant little to him, they were just a recitation calculated to unhinge a little girl's mind. But speaking them and filling his hands with her lithe young body and letting his mind run wild had almost convinced Joseph that fucking her was very essential. The drab piano studio in the second floor of the old house seemed miles from the traffic and congestion of the street outside. The table piled with musical scores and the metronome on the top of the old piano faded into the dismal distance. The old sofa which he had merely tolerated as a space-filler now seemed suddenly luminous.
"Wh-what are y-you going to do?" Gale stammered as he lifted her to her feet. He let one hand slip surreptitiously down her back, but the other one was firm on her slender upper arm.
"Come, my dear," he murmured. "I'm going to set that woman free! We are going to prepare you for the glorious future ahead of you, and teach your heart the true meaning of supreme joy!"
Joseph sat down on the sofa and pulled her between his knees with nervous anticipation.
"W-won't I be tight and t-tense then?" she quavered.
"Not hardly," Joseph said in a male-wise voice.
It wasn't easy. He abandoned the inclination to jerk her dress up and her panties down and climb her forthwith for the more subtle approach of mock romance and gentle kisses. His lips covered hers, solidly and lingeringly and passionately. It surprised her for he could read the shock in her eyes, wide and so very close to his. They blinked as his hand went purposefully to her hip, under the short skirt.
As he fondled her, he tried to control his rising passion. She was atrophied by what his hands did and the proximity of his body and he could pretty well do what came to his mind. His brain ran riot with overwhelming lust, he fingered her panty top and savored the smoothness of her skin, so pliable yet firm under his caress. Movement and action happened with some confusion and suddenly she was half sitting on his knee with her panties down and her brief skirt well up. Only then did he look down.
Her legs looked very slim beside the bulk of his thighs. The maddening curve of her belly seemed to amaze her as it shocked him. He had seen half-naked women before; her legs spread slightly for balance and her twisting torso seemed inhumanly small. He couldn't quite see her vagina, but a delicate brown-blonde fringe of hair emphasized the pout of her pubes and drove him wild. He pulled her back on his arm and then he could see the beginning of her sex.
It was tiny and virginal and revealed none of the monstrous sensitivity and closeness he knew it held. He advanced an eager finger and the moment he touched the hair and then the flesh under it, Gale gasped and clutched at his neck with her thin strong arm. The very tip of his finger entered the softly lipped slot and Gale whimpered. Then she seemed to go into a deep trance, clinging to his shoulders like a girl drowning. His nostrils flared, seeking the odor of woman, but she was a girl and didn't produce the acrid odor.
Somehow he managed to lift and move her to a more solid seat. Her arm released his shoulders rather helplessly and she fell back on the old sofa. Joseph stood up, leaving her sprawled and half-naked and fully exposed. Her eyes were closed and her fingers worked spastically. It took only a moment to unzip his trousers and bare his cock. She didn't look. It was almost as she had been several times before, awaiting his words and deeds concerning a difficult passage on the piano.
Man-wise, he stroked his cock as if he were going to jack-off on her supine body. He rolled the loose foreskin back and the head thrust out, super-imposed over the nakedness below. His cock looked huge beside her youth and his breath came fast and harsh with eagerness.
"Now, my dear," he said softly, warning her that he was coming but really advising himself of the impending delight.
He loosed his trousers further, half-aware of cleaning bills and the way he wanted to wallow on her body. Eyes tightly closed, frightened he supposed, she didn't witness the universally awkward moment during which he went to his knees between her mildly spread knees. For a moment, he stared down in fascination at the jut of his cock; six and a half inches of sturdy penis, throbbing and pulsing with passionate blood. Purple veins wound around the monster and the dark red of the head and beginning shank contrasted with her white skin.
Joseph succumbed to wisdom. He put one nervous finger down and inserted it in her diminutive vagina. He felt for and found the barrier of her maidenhead and with seeming impatience, he plunged and ripped her hymen, causing Gale to moan and twist. He waited a moment, expecting some sign of blood, but there was either none or it was so slight it was lost in the mucous tissues of her vulva.
Gale didn't open her eyes until he scooched down and stuck a difficult inch of cock into her. Then she opened them wide and her mouth went attractively slack. He smothered it with his lips and curled his spine like a defensive bee. More cock went into her, how much more he couldn't tell because the exquisite feeling of the brutal invasion was blinding, and he could only look at her startled face, directly under his.
Her legs tightened, then suddenly spread as he shoved his cock home. She didn't cry out or protest, but a deep sigh escaped her lips and her arms suddenly clutched at his shoulders. Not cleverly nor tightly because she was little-girl hysterical, but to Joseph, it no longer mattered. For a minute he was blind to all but the marvelous grip of her undersized sex and immune to sensation except the spastic clutch of her ravished sex-sleeve.
His hands went down under her and found the cheeks of her bended bottom. He was surprised for he hadn't realized her legs had come up. As the cheeks of her rump filled his hands, new surge came to his hips. There was some struggle with tinyness and tightness but he suddenly realized his belly came tight to hers and his cock was snubbed against some hidden limit in her vagina. He fucked like mad, lifting her bottom to meet his undulations, pressing her chest with his and rooting upward and downward with little care for her reactions. He thought her juices began to flow after a moment or two of agitation, and the stroking got easier, and hotter and strangely tighter.
Suddenly Gale said, "Oh, my God!" and through his lust, Joseph knew that she had had orgasm and she was no longer a child. He didn't stop because he couldn't and he didn't look at her face. Her lips mumbled somewhere under his chin and then she calmed. But her hips beat steadily up to his and her bottom tensed and relaxed in his hands.
Then out of the shroud of pure pleasure, he felt his orgasm build. Passion concentrated in his surging cock and he fucked furiously, blind to everything but the sweet ecstasy hovering somewhere just behind the thrust and retreat of his throbbing cock. He pushed a finger up and searched for the workings of her thickly invaded vagina. The lips were like a taut circle of strained flesh and they followed the coursing of his rod, in and out.
Feeling how he fucked, his orgasm blew out, surprising him, for a moment before it had seemed quite far away. He grunted, then stuttered, "Ouw-yeh-eea!" and rammed his cock into Gale as hard as he could.
"Oh, Mi-Mister Stewart!" she wailed protestingly.
Sensibility mixed with emotional hysteria: He hadn't meant to come in her, he hadn't meant to ram so furiously and he hadn't meant to make her cry out. Then his brains bubbled and oozed out of his balls and joined with heat of her vagina and Joseph quit thinking. He lay heavily on her slight body, panting and straining to feel good longer. Gale lay quietly, as if mightily mystified by what had happened to her. Presently, Joseph remembered.
"Now, you are a woman, my dear," he spoke softly. "Never again will the tightness cause you to falter and miss! Oh, my darling, the world is open to you, and with my help, you will reach the heights! D-did you enjoy it?" he asked in a different voice.
"Y-yes. Oh, no! Oh God, I d-don't know! It felt so wonderful and w-was so wrong, Mr. Stewart! It was wrong, wasn't it?"
"Of course not! It was all part of making a grand woman out of you! Here, let me wipe it on your panties," he said with efficiency.
She looked down to where his cock lay like a wounded animal across her thigh. The last drop or two of jism had oozed out onto her leg. More sticky fluid oozed out of the lower corner of her vagina. Her legs were spread so the tendons stood out. She wore short socks and club-heeled shoes. Only her quaking vagina was pert.
"Will I h-have a baby now?" she asked, returning to the little-girl.
"Not hardly," Joseph said for the second time that afternoon.
When they had fiddled some and he had invited her, uselessly, to inspect his cock as he had fingered her crotch, it was time to go. His mouth said words about adults not understanding the therapeutic worth of fucking, and he implanted in her disheveled mind the danger of "public discussion." Then Gale left, as put-together as she ever was if she did walk with a slight hesitation. He kissed her fondly at the studio door, then turned and staggered back to the sofa. It was the first fuck he had enjoyed for a year, and if it left him wobbly, it had also alerted his mind.
Not to the future, at first, but to the absolute wonder of Gale's little cunt and her subservience to him. He'd made no attempt to fondle her breasts because that seemed sexual and he had some idea of keeping their sex on an ethereal plane. It was ethereal, he mused. He'd copped her maidenhead and gotten into her in two minutes. It had had some effect, too, because she had said, "Oh, my God!" with some emphasis and he knew she'd had orgasm. After something less than five minutes of fucking. He grinned. Gale winds that blew hot.
There was a trick or two she would learn to do for a man. Next week, during or after her lesson, he would see about the wildly intriguing job of teaching her those tricks. Then he blinked. Next week. It seemed like an awfully long time away and Joseph began to think about how to shorten the time. And in thirty minutes, a dumb little Dago girl would show up for her weekly lesson, which would demand much calmness and patience on his part.
Charlie Trevor would stand for anything Joseph suggested. His mind was occupied with figures and cost-pluses and taxes, except for the sentimental segment that was concerned with Gale and the beautiful music she produced. Mr. Trevor made nine thousand dollars a year, so his daughter said, and over-spent it on tract living in a medium-poverty neighborhood. With the rise in the cost of living, he couldn't afford the forty dollars a month Gale's piano lessons cost, so he drove the twelve miles to the office from Van Nuys thinking about the bald front tire and the blown-out spare. The clue, then, was obviously his fondness for Gale's talent.
About Mrs. Trevor, Joseph didn't know too much. He'd only met her a time or two, the business of promoting Gale was largely her father's affair. But Joseph thought now about Mrs. Trevor. He remembered her as a tall, slender woman with a sober nature. Her first name was Grace which didn't match her face. It had grown hard and lined with fighting economic pressures, partially created by her husband's ineptitudes. Her figure was less than spectacular, although he thought she had once had breasts resembling her daughter's, and he suspected that given a little attention, her vagina would perk up and be acceptable. The clue, still, was Charlie Trevor's adoration of his promising daughter.
But that devotion didn't necessarily permit his daughter to be fucked, especially by a man of Joseph's age and his obvious experience. Now for the first time, Joseph realized what he had done. Talented or not, the Trevors would see him in San Quentin if they found out the sweet little barely-teenager had been seduced by Joseph I. Stewart.
So Joseph thought about it. It was true, that music was his life. No one knew how many hours he had spent at piano concerts and symposiums. No one knew how many hundreds of scores he had learned and learned well. That he had never quite accomplished the style and technique of a professional was not because he hadn't tried. So as compensation for his failures he had dreamed, of some day finding a potential master and of coaching him, or her, to the very heights.
It was going to be a 'her'.
And he had barely a week, he thought, to make his move for Gale. He was convinced that she had been too dazed by her first fuck to tumble into a 'confession' to her mother, horrors, or anybody else. If he could manage an audition or two and a date within the week, she would follow her fuck-confusion with musical amazement, and gratitude. It was something he had to do; it was something he wanted to do for Joseph had made his little speech to Gale with a modicum of honesty in his mind.
He grinned to himself. And she was great fun to fuck.
CHAPTER TWO
When she arrived home, Gale went directly to her room and closed the door. It was something she had done many times before as the click of the latch seemed to close her away from the world outside and afford her the isolation she desired. For other reasons, interference, noise and the cacophony of confusion that went with Van Nuys and its perpetual hustle for economic validity. Today she sat on the edge of her bed and drew in physically, and mentally.
She had been fucked. By Mr. Stewart, whom she had thought was the nicest, most clever, and the most domineering man in the world. Now, suddenly, he had turned into the most horrible, lewdest and domineering beast in the world. She had been a dumb little girl. He had said things she didn't fully understand, handled her and taken off her pants and stuck his great big thing right up between her legs. Then Gale took advantage of her privacy and giggled. It had been kind of fun and magnificently good a time or two. She spread her legs and raised her skirt. The crotch of her nylon panties was wet from the stuff he had left 'way up in her. She pulled her panties down with difficulty, tipping from hip to hip so she could free the cloth.
Terror struck her and she jerked her panties back up. It looked just as it always had but it felt different, way up inside.
She sat still as a mouse, thinking. So that was 'fuck'. She'd heard the word used by tough tarts and nasty boys, and she had listened to a girl or two in the school washroom talk vaguely about how it was done, and sometimes, by whom. Gale blinked. He had felt of her breasts too. 'Tits' they were called by the super-sophisticated little girls in school, and sometimes the boys embarrassed Gale by stealing a 'feel' of them. She looked down at hers and wondered what the excitement was all about. She rubbed them reflectively and there was hardly any feeling to them at all. She guessed it was just something men liked to do.
Then Gale had a flush of warm feeling as she remembered his two big hands holding the cheeks of her bottom. Holding them and lifting her hips so he could - Gale couldn't say the words, even to herself. She had thought once that he was going to drive his thing clear through her. That was when his thing had started to pump and squirt the stuff into her. It had been soothing but she couldn't quite bring herself to admitting it had been good. Her mind sped on, leaping from pinnacle to pinnacle.
She saw him lying back against the sofa, his pants well down on his hairy thighs. She saw everything, including the semi-limp column which had just been so deep in her. It was scarlet with inflammation and from the very end of the helmet-shaped head, a drop or two of vital fluid emerged. It was vital fluid because it made babies. This she had learned from the other girls who weren't taking the 'pill'. Not always, but sometimes, and you never could tell.
He wanted her to handle it and she had refused. It was nasty, sticky from her part, and she was afraid because it seemed somehow to exude an evil heat. And attached to the base of the fat column was a wrinkled sack all covered with wiry hairs. In the sack were round nubbins and even now, the memory of their formidability was frightening. That was where the 'stuff came from, she thought, and she shuddered.
She got up and went into the little bathroom attached to her bedroom. There she was lost as to what to do for a moment, then she felt the urgency of her tight bladder. She hauled up her skirt and thumbed down her panties and sat down. She kinked in the middle and watched herself urinate. It felt good and fascinated her mightily. It wasn't plugged at all, despite the size of the thing he had put into her. She gingerly wiped her vagina with two sheets of toilet paper, for that was the way her mother had taught her, ten years before.
Her mother. Gale hastily washed and dried her hands, keeping her mind blank through the actions and reasonably calm until she was again seated on her bed. Then she let the terror blossom.
Her mother would kill her if she knew. To Gale, her mother was fiercely different than she seemed to other people. She was very strict and critical most of the time. She was demanding and officious and often sent Gale running surreptitiously to her adoring father. He had often told her that it was her mother's way of showing how much she loved her daughter, that without discipline and barked orders, she would be slack in her maternal interest. Gale supposed he was right but nonetheless, she knew her mother would kill her if she knew the domineering piano teacher had fucked her. Or even laid a licentious hand on her. And her dad would be mad, too.
Gale blinked; so don't ever, ever tell them. And don't ever, ever let him do it again.
Then she hedged. Through her shame and guilt and remorse came the memory of how his big thing had felt, sliding back and forth in her part. And somehow beyond that, she remembered his words and the things he had promised. Implied were concerts and fame and a form of stardom that loomed massively in her little-girl mind. She would be great and the world would adore her. She only had to play and the public would fall at her feet; Mr. Stewart would see to everything, even if she was the one who had to practice and practice.
She jerked up her dress and looked at the outline of her little vagina, so petite and innocent to peer at. It seemed nasty and vile to Gale and she wrinkled her nose in distaste. She would have to lie on the miserable, loose-springed couch and spread her legs for Mr. Stewart. He would fuck her and feel her, but no one could know because it was all in private. Then he would 'do things' for her in his wonderful, domineering way.
And anyway, there were good moments, and she spent some time thinking about them.
Charlie Trevor sat in his living room and rattled the evening paper a bit industriously. He was nervous because his company, balancing precariously on the edge of the aerospace program, had difficulties. His job was secure enough, but the inter-company politics stated position and Charlie was too conscientious to ignore the confusion. A number of things seemed to be working out in strange fashions and anyway, he needed new tires and the best deal he could get was eighteen-forty with trade-in.
"Seems to me Gale went to bed awful early tonight," he said without looking at his wife who was primly sewing on pink cloth.
"Probably tired," Grace said. "She's been beating the pants off the piano all week, practicing a silly thing on it."
Without looking up from his paper which he wasn't reading, Charlie spoke firmly: "She's been practicing Gastofsky's Prelude in G Minor. I hardly thing it's a silly 'thing'."
He knew when she lowered her sewing and glared at him. It was a sensitivity that he had developed in the fourteen years they had been married. He could even predict her expression, hard mouth drawn in permanent scowling and blue eyes that relinquished their dullness to a wifely sparkle.
"If you'd pay as much attention to our welfare as you do to Gale, we'd be further ahead," his wife said. "I say it's a silly thing!"
Charlie sighed. "Have it your way," he commented. Then he looked at her. She was staring angrily around her modest house. The furniture showed its ten years of wear, and it wasn't very artistically groomed. It wasn't messy because Grace was an ardent housekeeper, but it wasn't homey. In fact, Charlie thought it was a pigsty.
"It isn't fair," she finally spoke. "I work my - ass off in this house, trying to make something of it! I glue chairlegs and patch things and you spend all our extra money on Gale's piano lessons! You sit around that darn old company, winking and flirting with all those sexed-up secretaries and you never think of me. No drive, that's what you've got! Look at Bill Walters! He isn't nearly as smart as you and he gets more money doing the same thing!"
"Twelve-forty a week," Charlie said. "He's also got five years seniority."
She made a face, not much worse than the one she normally wore. "How much longer do we have to put up with those damned piano lessons? I'm thirty-five and not getting any younger! You're nearly forty and what's been accomplished? Nothing! I haven't had a new dress in six months!"
Charlie controlled himself and went back to reading - or looking at the lines of print and ignoring what they said. "That was the same day I bought a new pair of jeans to work in the yard with, wasn't it?"
"Yes, but-'" She hesitated. "Oh, Charlie, whatever has happened to us? All we do is argue and fight - mostly about money! And we haven't any real big problems, I guess! Life is getting - so exhausting!"
Charlie put down his newspaper. "I'm doing the best I can, Grace. There's more to it than mowing the lawn and paying the bills each month and keeping the sink unclogged! I'm only a bookkeeper, not even a C.P.A., officially! What do you want me to do, burgle the company safe?"
She became petulant. "Well, for one thing, you could pay more attention to me," she said illogically.
Charlie got angry. "You haven't spread your ass or said, 'baby, come and get me' in ten years! Your face looks like a prune with mad-wrinkles! You've still got a good figure and you used to have talent!"
"It - it's only been f-four years since we did it," she said defensively.
"And you grabbed my dick and damned near squeezed it off, choking the jism back in my balls!"
Grace pouted and it was the most acceptable face she had made all evening. "Well, babies - hurt," she protested.
"We worked that out, or have you forgotten? There's pills and rubbers and some techniques - that make everybody else immune."
"It's against my religion to use pills and rubbers and stuff like that," she said. "And it isn't nice to - to suck a man off and let him do it in - in your ass!"
"How do you know? You gave me a piece of a blow-job ten years ago, and the nearest I ever got to your brunzer was nudging between the cheeks of your ass! Pay more attention to you! Think about you while I beat my meat off against the bathroom wall!"
"Do you?"
He went back to his paper. "Naw. I hit the goddamned toilet!"
There was a minute of silence. Charlie fumed for the problem was a lot more serious than mere argument. His sexless wife had shut him off and, while he had grown used to it, he didn't like it. He was privately ashamed of the fact that he had been faintly inspired to feel of his pretty daughter's ass and he took constant notice of how her tits were growing.
"I - I do it - with my finger sometimes,"
Grace said. "By myself!"
For a moment Charlie didn't think he'd heard right or that 'it' was not what he had thought it meant. He looked at Grace and she was flushed after her bold admission, and she hadn't resumed her sewing. Charlie blinked, and leaned forward in his easy chair. Amazingly, his mind sped through shock at her words then dealt with another matter. His cock jerked and his nostrils flared.
"What the damned hell kind of a game are we playing, Grace?" he asked without expecting an answer. "Hey, let's go in the bedroom and make up for lost time!"
She tittered. "You - won't k-knock me up?" She seemed girlish, nearly juvenile, and Charlie eyed the bulge of her breasts.
Then he grinned. "It's been so damned long in my balls I expect it's so watery you won't even know when I whitewash your - liver! Come on, baby, hump your ass and spread! I've got a seven-inch cock that needs to relearn what it's all about!"
"Don't talk dirty," she said with a crooked grin. He put his arm around her shoulders, and couldn't remember springing to his feet. He forgot that she was sour-faced and he let his excitement make him boyishly rough. His hand went to her ass and he crowded over her like a jungle ape.
"Suck my cock and make me howl - loud," he breathed.
Grace giggled and reached for his pantleg and she found it almost immediately.
Something awakened Gale and she lay a moment, unsure of whether it was morning or late at night. She decided it was late at night for it was dark outside her window and her father never got up before eight. He was now up for she could hear his voice, deep and strident. Gale thought her dad and mother were arguing. It was something they did all the time and it seemed a natural condition in the Trevor house.
Then Gale gasped with remembering. Nothing would ever be natural about anything again. She wriggled her legs. No twinge of pain or feeling of any kind remained to build her hopes or fears for having been fucked by Mr. Stewart. She felt of her breasts through the sheer sleep-jacket and they were calm and not sensitive, as if nothing had ever happened.
Unaccountable fear and revulsion flooded Gale's mind. The fun was all over and now she faced the horrible truth. A man had fucked her. True it had been Mr. Stewart whom she trusted mightily, but that didn't cure the fact that she had been ravished and raped and cast into the lowest echelon of sin. He had felt of her breasts and felt her bare bottom. Because she didn't hurt, it seemed more of a disease of the flesh to Gale, a thing men did to an innocent girl who did not know how to protect herself. She remembered how massive and ominous his big thing had looked, lying on his thigh, oozing the vile fluid from the bloated eye. Somehow, she felt that it was more terrible for having felt so good to her. Her life was strangely managed; joys and things that felt good were so few it seemed more a sin to think of anything that felt good or was surrounded by joy. Sin wasn't weeds in the garden, it was joy without stress or strain. As the magnitude of her transgression mounted, Gale was very close to tears.
Then she heard her mother's voice cry out, "Oh, Charlie!"
It was muffled by the two bathroom walls that separated their rooms but there was no denying the plaintive emotion in her mother's voice. Startled, Gale scrambled for the bedstand light, and saw in one squinting glance that it was eleven o'clock. Not late but not early. But time was of no importance in the scheme of things. What was important and unusual was that her mother cried out to her dad and in such a tone of voice.
Gale scrambled out of bed, the cool of late spring caressing her bare legs and wafting up under the sleep-jacket to cool the fever of her bottom. She hesitated, seeing if her mother would cry out again. Then when nothing happened to shatter the stillness of the night, she tip-toed to the bathroom door. Quite boldly she turned the knob, but it was without sound under her hand. The bathroom was as much hers as it was her parents' and she stepped in, shivering at the coldness of the tile floor.
And now she heard another sound, alarmingly akin to her mother's cry. Only one panel separated Gale from the bedroom and she was used to eavesdropping on her parents' fights. She could even tell on what side of the room they were, and in her mind's eye, she saw the two twin beds, the dresser and the two chairs. The sound was coming from her dad's bed.
But it was her mother who was producing the rhythmic gusts of breath. Then Gale heard her dad mumbling, and to her, his mumble had a definite glee to it, as if he had to mumble and couldn't quite manage the breath and syllables to speak clearly. And behind all the unusual sounds came the steady squeak-crunch of the bedsprings.
Then her mother said, "Ooh, goddamn it! You're busting my butt!"
"Relax, baby. It isn't even all in yet!" was her father's rejoinder. "Fold your legs back so I can get it all in."
Gale stood bolt upright, her breath caught in her throat. She didn't know how she knew, for she had never heard the brief tableau before, but she felt her parents were fucking. And when her mother cried, "Oh, man, give it t-to me, daddy!" she knew it was so. And to Gale, hardly off of a lusty man's rigid thing, the sounds she heard were suddenly quite familiar.
"God, your prick is b-big!" Again her mother.
Squeak-crunch, squeak-squeak-crunch. Terror griped Gale. Her mind conjured up a mass of pictures out of which one emerged very clearly because it was the only one she saw in her memory. Of her mother, lying on her back with her legs up and out, the thin angle of her arched feet semaphoring desperately. Of her daddy, bowed and then arched down as his bare bottom pumped furiously on her mother's belly. And the thing, sliding in and out, maybe there was more hair, and making small slushing sounds as it stroked. Gale leaned closer to the door and thought she could hear slushing.
That quickly, Gale was wet between the legs, and she sent a nervous hand with searching fingers to her vagina. She paid no attention to the unusual phenomenon of leakage. There was a ready finger and she clutched it inside herself spastically and it stopped hurting and began to feel good. Still she paid no attention, her ears attuned to the drama she couldn't see but could positively hear.
"Uh-uh-uh," her mother's voice sounded.
"Yeah, yeah," her daddy grunted. "I'm g-going to cum, baby! G-god it's good! You want it?"
"F-fuck it!" her mother gasped. "Blow the t-top of my head off!"
There was silence then, broken only by irregular squeaks of the bed as if it were sometimes being urged to squeak. Vividly now, Gale saw her mother's mouth gaped and worked as her own had done that afternoon. Tomorrow she would try a busy passage on the piano that would not leave her mind; for a moment she swayed heavily and saw her daddy's thing spewing and oozing. And she could almost feel the soft, hot fluid filling her young sex part and leaking from the lower corner as Mr. Stewart's had done.
Breathless, heady and weak with a fit of nervousness that struck her, Gale turned and staggered back to her own bed. Her hands avoided her crotch for its strange behavior was suddenly abhorrent to her. She lay stiffly, vibrating with the intense agitation that followed. They weren't making any more sounds but she listened anyway, having left her bathroom door open conveniently.
She didn't know what she was listening for because love-making was new to Gale. And then after a while, some more mumbled words and gasps occurred, Gale began to cry softly. How long it went on, Gale wasn't sure, but she wept through it all, painfully when her mother gasped and yelped, and thinking how awful it was that her daddy could fuck her mother twice in one night, despite her groaning.
Finally Gale fell to sleep in childish exhaustion.
CHAPTER THREE
Followed two days that were hectic but somehow different to Gale. Her life, in fact, the Trevor pattern of life didn't change, eat, school and two hours of practice on the piano, eat again and scurry through myriad things like clothes for school and records and all the things little girls had to do in the interest of being a girl. But there was a difference. She had never seen her mother so gay and smiling, nearly considerate in everything she did and said. Too, her daddy seemed freer and more satisfied with his job and the old car and things that normally disturbed him.
It took a day or so for Gale to make the terrible assumption that it was somehow associated with fucking. Her daddy spatted her mother's rear a time or two and made snide remarks that Gale didn't always understand. To which her mother smiled and didn't make the kind of remarks that usually hardened her mouth.
Child-like, Gale thought it was all right. They were married and the school sex-education books said that married folk should fuck though there was a cloudy passage about babies and parenthood immediately following the permissiveness. Neither the books nor the verbal lectures of the teacher were very explicit and Gale couldn't make much sense out of the classes. At least, she had never thought of them logically until Mr. Stewart had fucked her, and then the sense went two ways. Fucking seemed to divide into two worlds. Married folk 'had coitus' but sinful little girls merely got fucked.
It weighted heavily on her conscience the first day, but the second day it didn't seem so terrible to Gale. Well, it was terrible but a little bit pleasant sometimes, she thought. If she could ignore her guilt feelings and remorse and all the attendant self-accusations and think only about his big thing - a penis because she looked it up in a book - and how it almost made her blow up into tiny pieces, the entire affair seemed delightful. She thought about it often, even when she should have been thinking about her music score. She played like mad then, and finished her practice with the strange ascending tune that kept running through her head whenever she thought about fucking.
Then on the third evening after dinner, the doorbell rang and it was Mr. Stewart. Gale saw him over her mother's shoulder and he was terribly handsome in a neat gray suit and a string tie. He always wore a floppy string tie because it seemed like some sort of a uniform for music teachers. His dark hair was shiny and his smile was broad. He carried a brief case in one hand and Gale was sure he had brought her a new piece to practice.
"Oh! You're Mr. Stewart, Gale's piano teacher, aren't you?" Grace said, eyeing the stalwart young man.
"And you're Mrs. Trevor!" he said. "We only met casually a time or two but you're hard to forget! And I hoped you'd be home - is Mr. Trevor home too?"
"Oh, yes! Do come in. Gale is watching television - a western! Isn't that appropriate for a budding piano prodigy?" She laughed. "Gale, here is Mr. Stewart!"
Uninvited, Charlie Trevor got to his feet and shook hearty hands with Joseph. He didn't shake hands with Gale, he wrapped one strong arm around her shoulders and hugged her with all the enthusiasm of a long-lost relative. She was confused; he never called at their house and he had never looked so mod-sharp before.
Moreover, when he sat down, she could make out the bulge, a small one, in the top of one pantleg, and it started a fantasy in her mind. Had he come to fuck her again? She obligingly minded her mother and turned off the television with nervous fingers.
"Ah, yes," Mr. Stewart said. "I won't keep you long, but there are some matters that should be taken care of - immediately!" He unbuckled his brief case and drew out a series of papers.
Charlie gave a short laugh. "Did my last check for lessons bounce?"
"Indeed not! But it isn't in that vein that I'm interested. Unbeknown to anyone - even you, Gale dear, I made a telephone call to a friend of mine." He pointed to the television set. "He's a television producer. Of course, his show isn't a national program - yet, and he doesn't, can't pay much money for a performance, but he has agreed to hear Gale play with an option to appear on his program!"
The Trevors stared, all except Charlie who smiled as if he had always known Gale was destined for great things. And she was stunned. Television was her second passion past music, and the implication that she might appear on the boob-tube started her childish imagination on a miraculous downhill slide. Television and fame and glory galore.
"Gee whiz!" she managed to mumble.
Mr. Stewart smiled. "I told you," he reminded her with a hint of secrecy only she was supposed to understand. "But," he added, holding up one finger, the finger he'd used to thrill her on that wonderful day, "There are matters to be solved, first. For instance, we have to have a statement, signed by Mister and Madame Trevor, giving their Gale privilege to work under certain conditions and - "
Gale stopped hearing. Mr. Stewart's voice droned on - a work permit under his managerial contract so he could sign her music fees for same. For which Mr. Stewart was supposed to get ten per cent, a nominal sum, but one that would permit him to dedicate the necessary time to her career. He flashed papers and talked of concerts in Carnegie Hall and other massive auditoriums Gale had never heard of. With the papers on his lap, she lost sight of the intriguing bulge in his pantsleg. Then her father was dutifully signing the papers and Grace was hovering nervously by, awaiting her turn.
When it was all over, Gale started to hear again. "Fine," Mr. Stewart said, making the papers even so he could get them back into his brief case. "A star is born! Now, Gale, be at my studio at exactly five, tomorrow afternoon. There is much work to be done. We've a new piece to work on and every minute is important! You appear for the audition in ten days, think of that!"
"We - we aren't going to do the Prelude in G Minor?" Gale quavered.
Mr. Stewart stood up, suddenly ready to leave. "No. You can't quite handle the octave registers, my dear. I've modified the new score so that you can handle it with some facility. You are to do just as I say, my dear, and success will be ours!"
"We're very, very grateful," Charlie said to Mr. Stewart at the door, the supercilious smile still on his face.
"You've given our marvelous daughter the chance she deserves!" Grace Trevor gushed. "Oh, how wonderful!"
Then he was gone, and Gale, still stunned, was hugged by her daddy first then her excited mother. It is wonderful, Gale thought, but she felt slightly disappointed. Mr. Stewart hadn't done more than hug her and talk, and he hadn't asked her to feel the bulge in his pantsleg. The next time he asked her to feel of his cock, she would do it, even if she knew it was nasty and sinful.
He had adroitly 'edited' the script of "Fantasy Impromptu" so it took only four-and-a-half minutes to successfully render the difficult piece of Chopin. He let her fumble through it for the first time, taking due note of his briefed octaves. But Joseph stood casually, almost disdainfully by the piano while she struggled with the music.
"My dear, you're terribly tight and nervous," he said when she finished. "Poor darling," he added as an afterthought. "But you can not afford any hesitation, any ineptness! Music is your career."
Gale tried to relax with conscious effort and it put the sensuous slump to her body that Joseph revered. He knelt beside the piano bench. He slid one hand forward and laid it boldly on her thigh. That quickly, the vista changed for Joseph.
He had been thinking extremely sexual thoughts about her all day, for several days, in fact, and for the past fifteen minutes he had been standing casually and looking at her with wild excitement. He had hardly heard the music her fingers played. He had watched her tits jiggle, and her thighs work, and her slim body had nearly driven him insane. Now, as he placed his hand with his fingers extended, on her leg, a whole new set of factors entered his mind.
She was a pretty little girl, completely under his dictate. She was warm and alive and vibrant. He wanted to stick his prick in her and spread her slim legs until she screamed for mercy. He thought of her tiny slit and tender tissues and his cock throbbed painfully.
"Lie back on the piano bench," he said hoarsely. "So you can straddle it - like that! I must release your nerves, your body, and there is only one way, one happy way to do it."
"Yes, Mr. Stewart," Gale whispered.
Her sprawl was awkward, the bench hard, but Joseph was beyond worry about her comfort. He stood up and stepped astraddle the bench and her legs and his hand did unfastening things with his pants. Then he had his cock out and he stroked it over her body in lewd pleasure. He bent over, still holding his prick, and fumbled with her clothing. He pushed her skirt up and sight of her nylon clad hips with their tiny flare and neat, rounded bulge at her crotch fired him on. He didn't look her in the face because her face was not what he was interested in. She lay very still and it took both his hands to peel down her panties. Her legs trembled on the piano bench as he worked her panties off. He stared boldly down at her little cunt; it seemed smaller and closer than he had been remembering it for several days. Like a tightly-closed eye with the barest suggestion of a pout.
Then he looked at her face to see if she were ready. She was staring at his cock as he worked it. Had he been acute to any reaction but his own, he might have noticed the rigidity of her jaw and the revulsion in her eyes. Instead, he pushed his hips forward and smiled slightly as he seemed to distend his cock over her naked hips. The head swelled and thrust, the eye expanded and seemed to gasp for air. Then he bent his knees and lowered himself, squatting because the piano bench was low and urging forward. He didn't think it was odd that her legs spread and fell off the bench; she knew what was coming, and at best the bench was awkward. His cock bobbed and waved when he was forced to let go of it and put his hands to her quivering arms.
"Are - you going to put it in?" she asked tremulously.
"All the way," he husked. "You like it all the way in, don't you? Raise your knees a little!"
Obediently, she raised them, straining. The solution was to place one heel on the keyboard with a small discordant crash. The other leg raised and fluttered with nothing to support it. Her little cunt seemed to work, like a mouth chewing crackers. Joseph, looking down between them, took aim. It looked impossible, despite the fact that he knew it wasn't. The small neatness of the delicate little cuntal mouth drove him wild. There was just enough light brown hairs around her cunt to form a fuzz.
Getting his cock in was a matter of pushing and twisting and feeling how he forced the delicate tissues.
"Oh, Mr. Stewart!" Gale mumbled. "Oh, God!"
"Yeah," Joseph breathed. His cock seemed on fire in her little sex-sleeve. His hairy groin was soon against her light brown fuzz, and her body in his grasp quivered and jerked. But he was in trouble. With his legs spread around the piano bench and his belly rammed against hers, he had neither stability or driving force. He stole a moment to jiggle his prick deep in her writhing body, then she settled her hips and he was suddenly sitting on the free end of the bench. His cock was angled a little down and the new friction was exquisite. He could look down at his prick while it worked, and his balls, hanging free of his fly, slid back and forth on the smooth cool of the bench.
She raised her dangling leg and poised it high on his shoulder. There was no movement of her hips, no surge to her body, but Joseph didn't need her cooperation. He fucked awkwardly but intensely, and it was marvelous. He folded her other leg up on his shoulder and it was better. For her, too, he thought. Her eyes closed and her mouse-blonde head skidded on the polished bench every time he jolted her with his plunging cock. Occasionally her lips worked as if she were trying to say something but couldn't speak.
Then Joseph seriously got down to the business of working the sensation into an orgasm. Sliding back and forth, the rub excited his perenium, and his cock, constantly pressing upward, found new delights in her passive cunt. The head seemed to be rubbing back and forth on a flesh washboard, and Joseph adored every ripple.
"Is it - go-good, my darling?" he stuttered. "K-kind of!"
Joseph, who had been pulling her to him with hands hooked around the curve of her thighs, began to lose logic. He instinctively bent her legs further by ramming his shoulders forward, and his hands clutched for her breasts. The fingers kneaded the small firm mounds through her dress and a brassiere and didn't quite come up to his expectations. He let one hand wander down to her sharply-bended bottom and though the taut cheek wasn't totally accessible with his board-hard belly pumping so close, Joseph was too passionately embroiled to think about it.
The feel of the diminutive curves of hot flesh and the neat, taut, crevice between the soft cheeks turned his fingers to fire. Then, shortly below his lunging cock, he was rubbing a softer place.
"Don't Mr. Stewart," Gale panted. "It isn't nice! My back place!"
Her protest startled him for he hadn't realized he was rubbing her anus. He moved his fingers away but did not slack his critical stroking.
There remained in Joseph a degree of latent precaution. Too far too fast might spoil this wonderful arrangement. His words had been related to relaxation and his actions, if dedicated to fucking, were theoretically aimed at calming a little, inexperienced girl. It was one thing to excite her sexually, it was something else, at least for now, to introduce Gale to raw sensuality in extreme degrees. Joseph had a whole list of things he expected to try later, but for now, he settled for fucking.
Like the moment he felt his cum threaten to boil out of his cock. He would have liked to have slid his throbbing cock out of her cunt and poise it above her belly and watch it spew aimlessly over her heaving white flesh. It would even been thrilling to shuffle clumsily to his feet and nudge her slack mouth into action around his wet and swollen cock; she might even be induced to mouth his prick and swallow his ejaculation.
Then cumming stopped his thinking and he leaned forward, separating her trembling legs so he could rest on her belly.
"You're doing it in me, aren't you, Mr. Stewart?" Gale half-wailed. "Oh, gee, I c-can feel it way up!"
He worked his mouth as the orgasm faded into pure soothing.
"Yeah, you got it, baby," he said with a short hysterical chuckle. "Goddamn, my knees are busted!"
"Broken," Gale corrected him. "You're p-pinching my legs!"
Joseph sat up. His cock popped free of her half-sloppy cunt. Her legs settled down slowly, then fell with a thump to the piano bench. He wanted to rip open her bodice and watch her breast nipples relax, but ripping open dresses and feeling the tiny pink nodules were part of his restrictions, at least for the time being. She didn't look frightened or scandalized by his performance, but you never could tell.
"You have to wash, don't you, Mr. Stewart?" she queried.
He looked toward the bathroom of the old suite. "Yes. Do you have to wee-wee, my dear?"
He stood up, his limped cock hanging out in a formidable arc. She was looking at it very intently, he thought.
"N-no. Just for the stuff, is all. You're sure I w-won't have a baby, now?"
"Hell, no!" he laughed. "Now, you sit up and go through the 'Impromptu' while I wash! I'm sure you'll be quite able to render the score perfectly, now that you are relaxed!"
"Yes, Mr. Stewart. Oh. How much money will I get for playing the 'Impromptu' on television?"
At the door of the old bathroom he turned, his weighty prick in sharp silhouette. "Only a hundred dollars, my friend says, but it is a beginning."
Gale smoothed her brief skirt down and smiled as she straightened around on the piano bench. "That's fine, isn't it, Mr. Stewart! A whole hundred dollars! And more, maybe later, huh?"
He didn't answer, for she started to play from the edited music. He urinated and fiddled aimlessly with his cock in warm water, idling for time. By God, she did play as if inspired, and though there were some hesitations, they weren't involved ones. A time or two through the music and she would have it down perfect. At least, perfect enough for Jimmy Rubin's program which wasn't sparkling with magnificent talent.
Joseph wasn't sure whether Gale's improvement was due to the second time around or the idea that she was going to get a hundred dollars - less ten per cent - for her very own.
CHAPTER FOUR
It was six-thirty when Gale left the studio for the long walk or short bus ride home. It wasn't full summertime, so dusk had begun to settle over the busy arterial, Van Nuys Boulevard. Cars raced by and pedestrians scurried. Gale decided to walk because she wanted time to think, and anyway, the bus would be crowded with go-homers from the giant metropolis surrounding them.
And it made her sex-part feel good to walk. She supposed it felt a little funny because the bench hadn't been as soft as the sofa, and Mr. Stewart had rooted in her awfully hard. Too, the position he'd placed her in had been different - awkward, and his thing kept riding to the front.
She would have to stop calling it a thing. It was a cock or -a prick, Mr. Stewart had called it, and there were a lot of items which came under the heading of a 'thing'.
Gale felt bad. Not physically, but mentally. She had committed what she called a cardinal sin, and she had done it twice. It had been better the second time, if more exciting the first. She snapped her mind to rationality. It didn't matter whether his cock had been intriguing, or big or hot in her part - cunt, its name was. The sin had been the same. She didn't think about being young or emphatically sexy or that the teacher-pupil association had been compelling. She had let Mr. Stewart fuck her and that was the sin.
She dwelt a moment on the marvelous possibilities that seemed to lie just beyond the door. Mr. Stewart already had her signed up for a performance on a television show. For which she would be paid a whole hundred dollars. The money wasn't important to Gale, but it was going to be nice. She thought about lights and the camera and the adulation of her audience. She would wear her prettiest dress. No, she would coax her daddy into buying her a new one with sequins. He'd do it because he was very proud of his talented daughter.
She spent a moment in sweet reverie, then unaccountably, she thought of Mr. Stewart's formidable cock. It was, she conceded, quite a beautiful thing, and she was baffled as to why it should be a symbol of everything that was shameful. But it was sinful and no matter how wonderful it made the old studio and the scarred piano seem, she couldn't avoid the scalded feeling that came over her when she saw it. Music was her life and Gale hadn't spent many hours wondering about life. To suddenly face catastrophe in the shape of a big prick was a little monumental to a thirteen-year-old girl.
Then she frowned. He'd said it was to relax her so she could play well, but skipping through her recollection was his intense glee. Well, maybe not glee exactly, but certainly enthusiasm. Oddly, Gale hadn't thought about fucking as something Mr. Stewart liked to do. But suddenly she realized that he liked to fuck. Perhaps he was doing it mostly for her benefit, but Mr. Stewart liked to fuck her.
He liked to dangle his big cock so she could see it plainly. He liked to feel of her breasts and her bottom. Gale flushed as she remembered how he'd done, kind of pushy-like and 'round and 'round. She had protested when his finger had seemed about to break through the tight barrier, and she had been frightened because it had felt pretty good. The burden of her delightful sins crushed down around her.
It was mighty confusing. Mr. Stewart occupied some sort of godly position in her mind. He was terribly clever and he had secured for her a television performance and he had hinted at many greater accomplishments. He and her daddy were almost all the men she was acquainted with. The teachers at school and her daddy's friends were nice, but they were just people to Gale. Her social world revolved mainly around Mr. Stewart. Gale sniffed although she wasn't close to tears. From the fine hand of her god had come immeasurable shame and sin beyond comparison. There was no use rationalizing or excusing herself with lame thoughts about television fame and money. She was ruined and would have to spend the rest of her life making up for what she had done. Then she blinked. Later she'd begin to repent, but no way seemed available now. Fame was knocking at her fragile door.
She turned the corner off of Van Nuys because she was only four blocks from home. She hadn't realized she had walked so fast and she wasn't tired at all. Her mother might be angry about a delayed dinner, but it couldn't be helped. She had to practice the 'Impromptu,' didn't she? Greatness didn't come because a girl wished for it. Subconsciously she began to argue with her mother. Her daddy wouldn't say a word.
"Hi, there, chick! Going my way?"
He was slouched against the corner of a rattle-trap electric shop, chewing a match stick with adolescent arrogance. He looked a little like five hundred boys at school but in a way, he matched the cluster of decrepit stores that bulked to her left, a block off the mock-moderne shops along Van Nuys. Gale didn't reply nor look toward him and he dropped in at her side, matching her step by a dance-shuffle that was supposed to be clever.
"Don't be in such a hurry, babe," he said. "I'm a right guy and you're a neat chick! How's about a nice squishy kiss?"
With the words, his hands took control of her arm and forced Gale to cease her headlong strides for him. "You let me alone!" she hissed. "The nerve of y-you! I'll call a c-cop!"
He grinned down into her face; he isn't a bad-looking boy, she thought, and he shouldn't be accosting girls on a wide-open street. She could feel his body warmth and the strong control of his hand.
"J. Edgar couldn't raise a cop on this street this time of night," he said crowding close. "Gimme a kiss, huh? I bet you do for other guys, and maybe more! You got real feeling-type tits, babe!"
Gale was stunned, first that such a thing could happen to her so close to home and in the middle of Van Nuys, and then by the rough pressure of his mouth on hers. He forced her head back and she staggered into the alley beside the old buildings. Pickpockets she had been warned against, so she clutched her little handbag. Then he seemed emboldened by her step back into the alley. One hand held her waist and the other dug into the cloth of her dress, precisely at her crotch.
"Oh!" she cried out in panic. "Got cunt-panic, huh? Boy, that's a box to panic about, believe me! Man, I'd like to get a cock in that! How about it, chick? I like to have my prick sucked by a neat chick! Come on!"
She had a wobbly thought that he couldn't be from around the neighborhood or he wouldn't have the nerve to say such things to a strange girl on the street, then Gale fainted dead away.
Not for long. When she came to, she was face down over a crate back between two buildings. The upsidedown position added to her befuddlement for a moment, the descending dusk cloaked the decrepit buildings with near obscurity. A cold breeze struck her rump; the panting, scrambling man behind her was manhandling her bottom. Rape, the fear of all girls in the big city, loomed as a massive possibility. Her tubular music case was missing as was her handbag, both knocked somewhere when he had dragged her back between the buildings.
"Yeah, groovy!" she heard him mutter, and then he was a weight and a bulk over her back.
She tried to scream and only a hoarse groan of exhaustion came from her lips. She tried to twist and kick erect, but he held her. Her nylon panties hindered her like handcuffs around her slim legs. Then she felt his thing - his cock - stabbing blindly to her behind. The crate on which she lay hurt her stomach and scratched her arms. The smell of garbage crimped her nostrils.
He wasn't very adept because he pumped blindly and clumsily at her behind a half dozen times before he found the crevice and the divide where she kept her privates. He yipped like a victorious pup when his cock found heat and softness and a tiny bit of wet. Gale groaned. It was going to be rape, a term she didn't understand too well but one that had all the horror of hell associated with it. She wanted to scream and kick and flail out with her arms and legs, but she seemed atrophied by the evil of the moment.
Because it was all she knew, she expected to be penetrated by a huge cock that lunged and charged. She lay very still, frightened by the blunt hot column against her underbody, terrorized by the thought that she was being raped.
"Yeah, you like it don't you, baby!" he breathed against the back of her neck. "You like being fucked by a real man, huh?"
Suddenly it was all quite familiar to Gale. She ignored the pain of the crate slats and she shifted her arms so they didn't get scratched. The only trouble was the boy had a short boy cock and he was under the stress of committing rape and the excitement of the moment was more important than deep penetration. He was fucking furiously and hardly more than the head of his prick depressed the tender flesh he sought so industriously. His hands went around her waist and slid upward. He doesn't even know how to squeeze a girl's breasts, she thought.
"Be quiet!" he suddenly hissed.
He seemed to freeze and slowly hunch while heels clicked by on the street a few yards away. For the first time, Gale felt something in her part and she writhed to settle the inch or two of the cock he'd pushed into her. Then as the heel clicks faded away, he began to root and grunt with new fervor.
It began to feel better. Not good like Mr. Stewart made it feel, but comfortable. She felt his cock sliding a little ways in and she couldn't tell whether it was away in or spending its frenzy between her close-pressed thighs. Her sensitive nubbin began to swell and throb. It never quite reached the delightful peak it did when Mr. Stewart fucked her because the boy in his sexual hysteria didn't hold to any stroke or twist.
"Goddamn, goddamn, I'm going to c-cum like mad, chick!" he announced. "Boy, are you gonna get it!"
Not quite yet, Gale thought, because there was still the final series of lunges and roots. She instinctively tensed her buttocks and thighs in fearful anticipation, and the boy cooed as if pleased.
"H-Hot, ain't you?" he stammered through his peaking passion. "That's what I like, a h-hot cunt! Oh, goddamn, fuck!"
He held her and hunched, but his cock slipped completely out of her quaking cunt. Gale felt the blunt stabbing turn to spewing, and for three or four jolts, his jism bathed her bottom. He howled softly. Instantly the cool air chilled his ejaculation and Gale shivered uncontrollably. Then it was over.
The boy scrambled awkwardly erect, tugging at his jeans. Gale twisted and looked back at her destroyer. He was looking toward the street with furtive eyes. She couldn't see much of his cock because it wasn't very big and he was fumbling it back into his fly. Gale wanted to reach to her bottom and wipe away the jism, but she couldn't quite bring herself to touch the cooled stickiness.
"Y-you raped me," she husked.
"Yeah, and it was cool! You liked it too, baby!" He took a step or two toward the street, "So long, kitten, and thanks for the fuck! It was great!" Then he was gone. He wore tennis shoes, she saw, and disappeared like a wraith.
She was suddenly alone. Gale rolled off the crate and sat down hard on the asphalt driveway. It was cold on her butt, but it seemed to feel good. She pulled her panties up with difficulty, saying over and over to herself that she'd been raped. And not very cleverly, she thought, barely four blocks from her own front door. She turned over and skinned her knee as she levered herself to her feet. She found her handbag, the boy had been no petty thief, and her tubular music holder. She didn't like it much because after a score had been carried in it, she had a hard time keeping it flat on a piano rack.
The jerky thoughts snapped her back to sensibility.
She was free. The fears and guilt she had felt ever since Mr. Stewart had fucked her that day on the sofa, were suddenly very unreal. A street boy had raped her, and if she had to, she could prove it. She wasn't sure it would be wise to call a cop or scream for help, but Gale didn't wipe the dried cum off her bottom, in case she had to furnish proof of her destruction. She giggled. Not destruction, but defilation. And no one would ever have to know anything about Mr. Stewart and his beautiful big cock.
Abruptly at peace with her conscience, Gale stumbled through the dark toward her house.
It wasn't like Gale thought it would be at all. In the first place, Jimmy Rubin's late afternoon show was taped at eight o'clock in the morning. He didn't care for his broadcast hour and he cared less for his taping hour, but Rubin was still struggling and he didn't dare argue much about hours. At eight o'clock in the morning, the old brick building that housed KPLJ was huge enough and strange enough to charm Gale into moderate insanity.
But it didn't look like it did on television at eight-thirty on Tuesday nights. The sound stage was a mass of overhead lights, one or two being lowerable to cover Jimmy Rubin and his spot-lighted guests. There was a plywood desk and two patched leather chairs of different colors which all looked gray to the indifferent cameras. There were three being used. They wandered like behemoths among stand-baffles and swinging teasers, and managed to miraculously miss the miles of thick black cords that fed juice to the lights. To one side of the makeshift 'stage' a massive battery of switches and controls were banked for ease in reaching the essential ones. A sign said "Hands off! 5,000 volts!" Mr. Stewart said that the sign was a lot of malarkey because 440 volts was all the power in the building.
And people were everywhere, in jeans and open-collar shirts, carrying screwdrivers and cue cards for those that had speaking parts. They seemed to ignore the fact that the non-stage portion of the studio was filled with tables and sundry benches which were props for other shows. The audience seats were mere bleachers. The twenty-five or so people who braved the early morning hour for free seats to the broadcast were huddled in a bunch so the scanning camera could give the impression of mass attendance.
Gale was given seven words to say, and they were duly hand-lettered on an 'idiot card' so she would be sure to remember to say, "Yes, Mr. Rubin," when the bombastic young man asked her if she were going to play for them, and "Thank you, Mr. Rubin," when he offered her the piano. The program manager told her there was a commercial planned for the time it took her to smile prettily at Mr. Rubin and go to the piano, so don't sweat it.
"How do they know - I mean, I'll have to hurry, won't I?" Gale quavered.
The program manager, bored by children and commercials and simple time adjustments, waved an imperious hand. "Sixty seconds worth of Cream of Wheat with zoom animations! You might be able to get your ass planted in sixty seconds, huh?"
"Y-yes, sir," Gale had replied.
"She'll do it fine," Joseph assured him.
"You fuckin' right, she will," the program director said with no apparent humor.
Then there was seemingly a massive waste of time. They had been asked to make their appearance at ten minutes after seven. It had taken ten minutes to show Gale the cue cards and instruct her as to how to act in front of the cameras. There was a long time left, for she wasn't the first guest performer; she was scheduled following a boy of ten who did balancing acts.
She would have liked to hang around, among the bustling grips and workmen and display her new sequined gown to the gathering audience. She was flushed and confident in her new glory, but it was also obvious that she was in the way. There were no dressing rooms for guests, but Joseph urged her back from the stage a bit to a secluded place among the set-stands.
"Happy, my dear?" he asked when they were relatively alone.
"Oh, gosh, yes! It's so exciting and strange! And Mr. Rubin is so nice! Oh, I'm going to go for this kind of life, Mr. Stewart!"
He grinned. "It does kind of get into one's blood," he admitted. "But you don't want to lose sight of your primary goal. Music!"
Then without warning, the peculiar ascending rhythm that always came to her brain when she thought of sex skipped through her mind. She looked at Mr. Stewart, standing easily and leaning on a prop table. She felt every inch of her slim beauty in flashing sequins. Panic of a sort swept through her. She was suddenly very sure she couldn't go before the cameras unless she did something.
"Mr. Stewart, can I f-feel of your cock, please!" she wailed.
He smiled rather superiorly. "Well, sure, honey, if you want to! You do want to, don't you?" he asked, crowding closer to her lithe form in sparkling silver and cold black satin. "Don't you, my dear?"
She could only nod. Her hand reached, hesitantly at first, then firmly for the ever-constant bulge in his pantsleg. He didn't help her but rested his two hands on her shoulders while she fumbled with his precious black trousers. His cock flopped out, white and meaty and slightly inflamed, for they had spent half of the last ten days fucking and half of it practicing. Now Gale skinned the foreskin back and everything was suddenly all right.
Electric tingles went through her as she took the beautiful cock between her thumb and forefinger. It was hot and throbbing and the sight of it so close warped her brain. The small man-odor of it sent her taste buds into mad whirlings. She jacked it out and up and the veins turned blue and the coronal ridge expanded unbelievably. Gale clutched spasmodically at her breasts, rubbing them with round motions that made the sequins rattle.
Then she did something that she had often thought of in the past ten days but never dared do. She opened her slightly-rounded lips and gulped tentatively at the hot fat head of Joseph's cock. The taste surprised her but the feel of his loose foreskin was thrilling to her lips. She didn't know what to do, but she mouthed his cock and even sucked a little.
"Go, baby!" Joseph breathed. "Go on, honey!"
Gale quit thinking. The thickness of his prick made her mouth stretch so her lower jaw was out of kilter. The soft layer of flesh probed and crowded her mouth and after a moment, she managed to lay her hot, saliva-flowing tongue along the tubed underside of his pulsing meat. She licked as best she could and rolled the column in her mouth. She felt every ridge and crease of the magnificent rod and found the friable eye with her tongue as she let his cock slip moistly from her mouth. There seemed to be a movement; she thought of how his cock pumped and lunged, when he was fucking her and she duplicated the motion with her head. Her hair bobbed and waved and her throat swallowed eagerly, clearing the sweet saliva that coated his swelling cock.
Then she became conscious of Joseph and that was exciting. His hands had left her sequined back and they sandwiched her head. His cock was no longer lethargic, it fucked her face with special lurches and enthusiastic fury. Gale put her hands to his hips; it did something to hold the source of his power which was growing lustily.
Despite the fact that she thought she knew when he was going to cum, she let it surprise her. At first she didn't know how to treat the spew of jism. Two of the sweet jolts she took far back in her throat. Jism surged around the thickness and the length of his prick in her mouth. She backed her head away and let the pulsations continue the length of her cupped tongue. Jism ran out of the corner of her mouth and the streaming heat sent quivers of thrills through her.
"Ah, baby, baby," Joseph murmured. "God, that was g-good!"
"Oh, Mr. Stewart!" she murmured, licking the jism from her lips. "I s-sucked your c-cock!" she said as if amazed.
"Did you have a cum?" he asked tenderly.
Gale dropped her head forward with her forehead on his groin and his oozing prick laying up against her face. "N-no," she was sure.
"Five minutes to camera!" a voice said, and Gale jerked her head around to see one of the grips, his eyes wide with surprise at what he saw.
"We'll be there," Joseph said, shielding his far from subdued prick with a hand.
Gale gulped. "We sure as heck will!" she exclaimed, suddenly unashamed of anything but the wrinkles she had put in her new dress by kneeling on the board floor.
CHAPTER FIVE
Joseph agreed to attend the party the Trevors were throwing that evening so they could celebrate their daughter's success as a bona fide television performer, for money. He had had time to cash Jimmy Rubin's check and he wasn't very impressed. It was for two hundred dollars, not a hundred, but he didn't feel he was cheating Gale by pocketing the extra hundred. Rubin had congratulated him on the performance and had remarked the probable future for the young pianist, and Joseph had decided most of the glory was his. Without him, she would still be playing with dolls instead of concertos. And anyway, he had expenses, hardly covered by his ten per cent.
That wasn't his main worry, however. The 'probable future' bore heavy on his mind. It meant keeping Gale contented with his sex adventures and it meant working out some way to satiate his sudden urge to play Svengali. Joseph was impressed with Gale's ability, but he was not impressed with the opportunities for underage prodigies. He had ten fresh dollars - the hundred he would keep for 'emergencies' - and a few hundred in the bank he might spare for promotional ventures. He could hardly peddle her ass as a fringe benefit. In fact, he didn't want to for in the past ten days, he had grown very fond of Gale, and possessive. Particularly since that exciting moment this morning in the studio when she had volunteered to suck his cock and had half-swallowed his jism.
He stole a moment between postponed students to sit in his dank studio and think about how she'd done it. Neat. Fuck hadn't really been on his mind at seven-thirty in the morning, but it had come off just fine. He tried to remember how she'd manipulated his cock but all he could recall was the heat of her mouth and the way his prick had swelled and throbbed and spurted.
She was, he decided, a weirdo for a little girl. She'd come to the studio for supervision twice or three times a week, and her father had paid. Joseph almost grinned: Old man Trevor was paying ten dollars for Joseph to fuck his daughter. Not only that, he had paid thirty dollars extra in the past ten days with the result that Gale had learned some difficult piano and how to suck a prick. Joseph, not a coxman, thought it was pretty wonderful. If he worked it right, she would not only make him a big man in the entertainment business but she would make him the best fucked impresario in Los Angeles.
Then he frowned. She was only thirteen, with a birthday coming in two months. While her age made marvelous fucking, it didn't make the task of promoting her music any easier. Now he was stuck by his own committment, and he wracked his brain, reviewing possibilities he had ignored during the last ten or twelve years. No, not ignored, he thought, but let slip because he didn't have the talent to fulfill them.
Gale had talent. She had pert little tits that bobbed and shook when she moved, and a slight flare to her ass that always seemed to hump and wobble when she walked. Joseph shook his head to clear his mind. He wasn't peddling cunt, he was peddling talent, musical talent. And both commodities were securely his, he was sure of that. She was so sold on Joseph that she didn't recognize him as a down-at-the-heel piano teacher. She was so hipped for his cock she hadn't noticed that he didn't say much any more, about 'relaxing' or 'easing tensions.' It just happened and Joseph believed what he said for he had never known an unfuckable pianist who could make it without cock. He mused that it was sad but all a woman's confidence in herself lay in her pussy and it didn't matter if she was thirteen or thirty-three.
Joseph's next student came at four-thirty. He was a brash Polack boy of twelve who couldn't even learn a simple Handel exercise in a week. Lessons on a thirty-cent harmonica would have been a waste, and Joseph sat and scowled through ten dollars worth of botched-up finger exercises. One-two-three, one-two-three-some-times four, and Joseph sighed. High and sailing this morning in Rubin's studio and now this. And he couldn't even fuck the kid. He tried to imagine the gawky youth with little tits and a flaring bottom and it did no good.
Later, Joseph tried to seriously think of the future. The acme of achievement was to sign Gale for five appearances on the Tonight Show, but that would require a trip to New York and perhaps a month of intense conniving, and there was no guarantee that he could have an interview with Carson's talent coordinators. Mike Douglas would be cheaper to approach but the pattern of Douglas' show called for someone who could talk as well as perform. Then he thought of Art Linkletter and his idiot son, Jack, Jr. They were Los Angeles and big and they dealt with juveniles. Mostly younger, even, than Gale. The road there was long and rocky, beset with small obscure technicalities, but Joseph skipped over them in his desperation to come up with a name and a prospect to spring on the Trevors that afternoon at the party.
He tried to envision the Trevors. They were 'medium poverty' people and he knew how Charlie Trevor had to cut corners to provide his daughter with piano lessons. They'd be a bit more enthusiastic now that Gale had made a whole ninety dollars, and they'd be even more thrilled when he mentioned Linkletter and vague suggestions spiked with technical terms. Then Joseph hesitated. He had been thinking 'they' without really analyzing who they was. He thought of Mrs. Trevor.
Undressing for his evening shower, Joseph did a lewd hunch that made his cock do a large flop. She was slim and well built - Gale's mother, matured and slightly lined with middle-class worry. The little pussy with hair, and the little tits with bigger nipples. She'd been gay and friendly the other day, and she hadn't seemed to rely on Charlie for subconscious support. Joseph had a hunch he could fuck her and if he got the chance, by God, he would.
"Wasn't she wonderful!" Mrs. Trevor gushed into Joseph's face. "And Charlie is so proud.
And look at Gale!"
Joseph looked. He felt a tiny twinge of jealousy for the attention Gale was getting from her friends. There were two other couples at the party, and they had two children, a boy and a girl. Gale was talking excitedly, reciting the marvels of her morning performance. Before her on the table were ninety dollars, in crisp new ten-dollar bills, because Joseph had thought new bills looked bigger. Gale was giving rather a childish report on the grips, the electricians and on Rubin, himself. Her tits joggled and her ass wobbled but Joseph was apparently the only adult who noticed.
"You're kind of excited too, aren't you, Mrs. Trevor?" he remarked with a smile.
"My God, yes! Oh, I know we are going to be famous!"
"Possible," Joseph admitted with a superior smile. "Confidentially, I think the poise we were so impressed with tonight is due to you! Now that I know you better, it seems I see a bit of you in every charming mannerism Gale possesses!"
Grace Trevor blushed. "Oh, Mr. Stewart!"
"Call me Joseph. All my intimate friends do," he said casually.
Grace squirmed nervously. "I'm s-so thrilled! Nothing like this has ever happened to me - to us, before!"
Joseph uncrossed his legs and seemed to relax. He shoved his hips forward on the sofa and laughed softly at her words. His cock, which had been half hard ever since he and Grace had begun talking, made a sizable ridge in his neat gray slacks. At first she didn't seem to notice, but suddenly her head jerked around and she stared at the formidable lump.
"Oh, my God," she half-whispered.
Joseph looked at her unsmilingly. "That excites you?"
"It l-looks - so big!" she blurted.
"Is there a place - it's hot for you, Grace," he said sadly.
She looked frantically around the front room. The children and her guests were listening avidly to Gale's excited recitation. Charlie Trevor sat in a side chair, the picture of parental pride. They were apparently abandoned for the moment. Joseph let one hand slip to his side. It was suddenly a warm pressure against her thigh and his cock jerked a little as he thought of what was just beyond his fingers.
"Th-the patio," she murmured. "There's a shed at the b-back!"
"You're driving me crazy," Joseph said, sotto-voiced.
"Oh, my God!" Grace breathed and got up, waveringly.
She had a better ass than he'd noticed before and her tits pushed out the cloth of her cocktail gown. If he didn't look at her lined face, she balanced out at twenty-six or -seven. Joseph was abruptly hot.
She looked briefly at him, then turned and calmly strolled to the sliding doors of the patio. No one noticed as she slid one open. Her casual stroll toward the rear of the Trevor lot might have been to turn on the garden hose or pick some roses from a back bed. When Joseph got up and followed her, she was out of sight and the door to a small storage shed was ajar. Joseph was suddenly very hot and his cock became a pushy, insistent tentpole in his trousers, but there was no one to see.
She was standing in the dark of the storage shed, her body kinked forward as if she hurt. As he entered the shed, her hands reached for his upper arms. Joseph obliged her eagerness by pressing his palms to her side and back. She wanted to be kissed and he thought that it was dark enough it wouldn't matter. Her lips were hard-pursed and they vibrated with incipient passion. She tasted pretty good and let her tongue slip forward to caress his lips.
There wasn't much room and there were no facilities at all. The moment her supple body lay against his, it was obvious that some instant ingenuity had to be improvised. The first thing that Joseph did was unzip and free his aching cock. Grace gasped at the feel of raw flesh, so huge and thrusting against her belly.
"Oh, raise my skirt, put it in!" she panted. "Oh, goddamn, I'm losing my m-mind!"
"It won't work that way," Joseph said from his superior height. "Turn around - I'll do it from behind!"
Her shuffle was awkward for she didn't want to get out of his embrace, and she was fumbling with her dress as she pivoted. Joseph's cock rubbed across her bare behind and twin contours and the heat made him hasty. He grabbed her around the waist and rooted low. His cock caught between the cheeks of her ass and passion overwhelmed him.
Then Grace reached back and her fingers folded lovingly around his prick. She rubbed it up and down the crack of her ass and jacked him tenderly. Then as he re-established his stance, she hiked her ass up and tipped his prick down.
"Aw-yuh!" he grunted as his cock found sweet nesting and much wetness.
"Give it to me, b-baby!" Grace wailed, and swayed backward.
"I am, I am!" he husked to the back of her neck.
"Oh, my God, I know, I k-know!"
It was different than Gale. Grace's ass was broad and cushiony, and her cunt was delightfully sloppy with Bartholin exhudence.
Joseph rooted aimlessly a few times then settled into a glorious rhythm that stroked the sex-sleeve with maddening effect. He thought it would be better if she spread her legs, but she hadn't removed her panties, merely shoved them down around her thighs. They were good thighs and they quivered back against his. He felt strong and stable and he rooted with all of his might.
He gave her all his cock, so much his hairy belly bumped her ass and made her grunt. He raised and lowered and changed angles until her cunt made sloppy sounds from being thoroughly stirred. He started to develop a cum, and it was so exquisite Joseph lost track of time and how many times he jolted against the receptive rump.
Then suddenly, Grace squealed. Her legs straightened, stiffened and her whole body tensed. Joseph eased and let her have an orgasm, even though he wasn't ready yet. He reached forward and seized her tits, to work them soothingly while she convulsed.
"Oh, I g-got it - so good! Did you, Joseph?"
"In a minute," he murmured. "Your legs okay?"
She giggled. "Oh, boy, are they!"
He needed only a minute and he had a flashing thought that they were clandestinely enmeshed in a shed in the Trevor's back yard. Someone could interrupt their fucking match in a split moment, bring their happy world crashing down around their ears. It neither speeded him nor slowed him, but Joseph intensified his lust. Then Grace reached down and did something with her panties that allowed her to spread her knees. Joseph never hesitated, but the shift did something to his stroking.
On a rearward haulback, his cock slipped free of her quaking cunt and when he finished the lunge, his prick nudged her asshole. For a moment it hung there, nuzzling the soft indentation. It didn't go in, but the delicate depression tipped him over. With sudden helplessness, he started to cum. Cramped for space and hindered by their sprawled position, he held stiffly, ecstatically, and spewed his semen into her ass. Part went into her asshole and part spurted out on the soft, hot cheeks. Grace yelped with surprise. Joseph oohed and awhed with male indifference as to where he ejaculated.
"Then I got it!" he boasted.
"Boy, and how! Right up my p-pooper! All over my ass, too!" She turned and melted into his arms. His cock leaked its last oozing past her hip and it felt so good Joseph couldn't speak. Grace reached down and milked the limping organ, gently like a bride but efficiently like a professional. Then she knelt and took his cock in her lips to lave it like a mother cat.
"It didn't go - clear in," she whispered, smacking her lips. "God, I wish Charlie would learn to - We'd better beat it, huh, Joseph? Look, I'll go in the back way, you go in the side. I'll stop at the biffy so nobody will know we've been here together."
Joseph was sure the 'biffy' was the bathroom. "You got troubles, baby?" he asked.
Grace giggled. "Well, kind of! Cum is slippery, in case you haven't noticed! Aw, God, I love you!"
She was tugging her panties up and Joseph let his hands wander over her pert, high ass. "Come to my studio any day between twelve and two, huh, baby?"
Grace smoothed her dress over her returned panties. "Every day!"
No one had apparently missed them. The television set was finally turned off, as if somebody had at last noticed the noisy rock band that followed Jimmy Rubin's program. Gale's recitation had dwindled and the little crowd around the table had dispersed. Grace returned, slightly flushed but maternally efficient.
"Party snacks in a minute," she called. "Those that want coffee be sure to tell me! There's soft drinks for the kids and beer for the grownups who want it!"
'Me, Charlie said, as if to break the ice.
For a much needed rest, Joseph had returned to a lazy sprawl on the sofa and suddenly, Gale was seated beside him. Excitement still fired her nerves and she giggled tensely. "Gosh, this has been a wonderful party! And I'm the star, aren't I, Mr. Stewart?"
"You deserve it, my dear! You were wonderful tonight - or this morning, as we well know! I'm very proud of you!"
Gale abruptly sobered. "Then why did you spend - so much time outside with mamma?"
Joseph blinked, partially from surprise and partially because he hadn't thought anyone had noticed. "We were just getting air and talking about your future. Your mother is very interested, Gale."
The bright-eyed girl, still sober, leaned a little closer. "Did you f-fuck her, Mr. Stewart?"
He didn't expect a sensible answer, but one came. "Mamma gets bags under her eyes when daddy does it to her," she announced. "She's got bags now! And daddy's been sitting right there all evening!"
"I don't think that's very nice of you to say," Joseph suggested.
"It's murder! If daddy finds out he'll get mad as the devil!"
Joseph took two or three deep breaths; there was no way to go. He took a chance. "Why don't you go over to the piano and do Gastofsky for the folks? I think they'd like to hear you play, Gale."
She jumped to her feet, abruptly happy that she could be the center of things again, and Joseph was pleased that he had shifted the conversation to mundane things. Gale bounced to the piano seat. It was an old-fashioned screw affair and she made a dramatic production out of adjusting it to just the precise height. The guests quieted. Joseph was terribly conscious of the small noises Grace made in the kitchen, preparing snacks.
Then Gale sat down and studied the keyboard for a moment before she raised her hands. Then she tinkled through the ascending rhythm of a bar or two of "The Eyes Of A Woman In Love." and Joseph recognized it; the incomplete tinkling Gale always played before she spread her little ass to be fucked.
CHAPTER SIX
He tried hard. It suddenly became very important that he do what he had said he'd do, and Joseph terminated some students that would hinder his mid-day scuffling. When something came up that required attention in the early morning or late in the afternoon, he postponed his piano appointments.
He didn't discourage Mrs. Trevor. He simply didn't show enough concern that she be in his studio between twelve and two to convince her that she was a great romance. She was little more than a chippy fuck, as far as he could see. Furthermore, she was a pattern screwer. The first day she came, two days after the party, she climbed the stairs to the studio and surprised Joseph. He was studying some sheets with names and addresses of potential publicity-prone people on it and a furrow of concern marked his forehead.
"Well, Mrs. Trevor!" he said in genuine surprise.
"Dear Joseph! I couldn't come yesterday because I had a meeting. But I wanted to! Did you expect me?"
Joseph waved at the noted papers. "To tell you the truth, I've begun a campaign to promote Gale. I guess my mind - was elsewhere!"
"We'll fix that, sweetheart," she said. In the middle of the floor, hardly a yard or two from where he stood, she began to unbutton her dress from the top down. Her eyes were hot on his facial reactions as first one brassiere-clad breast and then the other was exposed. Joseph reacted because he wasn't made of iron; his mouth fell slack and his cock began to itch.
Hurried by his apparent intrigue, she did feminine gymnastics to loosen her brassiere. As her tits came free, they only sagged a little, she took a deep breath which raised them in silent offering.
"Do - do you like them?" she asked coyly.
"Beautiful," Joseph said, reaching for the symmetrical bulbs. She let him feel them and ruffle the already button-hard nipples. Then she took a step backward.
"Wait a minute, darling!"
She did a gathering thing with her hands and then a hard push downward. Freed of bulges and restraining hollows, her dress dropped down around her ankles. She wore no panties and Joseph was staring at one of the few naked women he had ever seen. She smiled, waiting for him to move or say something flattering. He was momentarily stunned and couldn't think of anything to say.
Her tits didn't seem to sag now, as they hung in magnificent display over her slim ribcage. Her belly was slightly pooched and it provided a small flesh-porch for the mass of blonde-brown pubic hair that shrouded her crotch. Her legs were tapered and only showed a little tracery of blue veins. As she stepped out of her dress, she assumed a pose patterned after models and theatrical girls.
"By God!" Joseph murmured.
She held out her slim arms and wiggled lewdly. "Come and get it, sweet man! God, I've been thinking about this for two days and I'm about out of my tree!"
Joseph's cock was delightfully and suddenly hard as he reached for her. Embracing the warm, wriggling Grace Trevor was thrilling, and when he kissed her, it was a further surprise. She kissed with a wide open mouth and her hot tongue beat wildly at his lips until it found his. At the same time she managed to press her naked body to his with a subtle fitting motion of her hips.
"Oh, boy!" she murmured into his mouth, and her hand slid between them to grasp his cock through his trousers. "Hot and hard and long! Oh, I love you, I love you!"
His hands skittered over her bare back and one gathered a cheek of her ass and pulled her to him. He could feel her tits pressing against his chest and his white shirt wasn't enough to disguise the pulse of her nipples. But she didn't want to kiss.
"Oh, take off your p-pants! Cleaning bills are terrible! Hurry! God, I'm hot for you, Joseph! All I've thought about for two days is your glorious cock and how it spit up - my bottom like a trumpet player in reverse! Can we do that again, dear?"
Joseph said what the hell? to himself and stepped away from her. His fingers didn't fumble as he unsnapped his trousers at the waist. As he laid open his fly, his prick leaped out in throbbing hugeness.
"What a lovely prick," Grace husked. "Here, let me help!"
She pushed him back into a straight chair and struggled with his pants, all the while keeping her eyes on his rigid cock. When his trousers were free and down around his ankles, Grace seemed to collapse. She fell forward over his bare thighs and her mouth closed around his cock. Breath hissed harshly from her nose; he didn't think she knew much about Frenching a man but she was industrious. Her lips skipped and her head bobbed. It was good, but Gale was better, Joseph had time to think. Then Grace took as much of it as she could accommodate in her mouth. The sensitive head lay hard against the limit of her throat. She let her tongue beat softly at the broad underside of his prick and her lips formed a tight circle around the shank, far back.
Suddenly, she drew her head back slowly, forming a choking collar with her pursed lips. His cock popped out of her lips with a smacking sound, that sent strange feeling up Joseph's spine. He let out an audible sigh of pure ecstasy.
"That's nice, isn't it?" Grace said, her mouth working in after-taste. "Nice, good cock, sweet man! Oh, shit! Fuck me before I die!"
She hurled herself onto the old sofa, but she didn't land on her back. She landed on her flat, heaving belly, and her ass was thrust up in beautiful bending. Joseph didn't have to be coached for he knew just what she wanted. He was on her in a flash, his wet prick sliding easily between her high thighs and nudging firmly into her wetted cunt. She let out a gush of breath and he penetrated her with all his prick. It was hot and wild and it was so incredibly good he rooted for more and more.
His hands grasped her naked waist, they fluttered to her tits then curved and smoothed back over her suddenly-pumping ass. Her arms, bent at the elbow and drawn up beside her head, afforded her balance and she waggled her ass from side to side. Saliva drooled from her slack lips and tiny moans of happy-anguish escaped her throat.
"C-cum against my p-pooper!" she mumbled. "Like before!"
The order snapped Joseph halfway back to consciousness. He twisted his right wrist and suddenly, his fingers were feeling in the deep crevice between the cheeks of her ass and one centered on her winking, working asshole.
"Yeah, yeah! Are you cumming, dear?"
"In a minute," he replied. "Just a minute now!"
Joseph was man and inspired by erotic thoughts and he was sunk in the depths of passionate lust. He didn't remember that cumming against her asshole had been too terrific a sensation. Not as terrific as holding his cum until he might have accomplished a little more than mere contact. His building orgasm didn't reduce his inspiration. Her willingness to play asshole tag didn't discourage him.
Joseph hauled back and Grace, anticipating a tender orgasm against her anus, relaxed on a stunted breath. Joseph had a problem centering his cunt-wet cock on the rosebud. Then he did a hunch that was a bit harder than a cock-kiss called for. "Goddamn!" he said and Grace cried out. His cock was buried head deep in her asshole. Nor did he stop there. The sensation was so exquisite he couldn't control the drive of his sprawled legs. He drove four or five inches of his slick prick up her tight ass, and then he had a furious, frenzied orgasm.
After her first cry of surprise, Grace didn't move or make a sound.
It was the most excruciatingly acute orgasm he remembered, and it seemed never to end. As it finally faded, his senses returned. His cock was up Grace Trevor's ass and had cum hard in her gut and she hadn't made a sound. She was panting heavily and squirming slightly. He didn't know whether she had cum or not, but he supposed she had, being as hot for pure man as she had been.
He gathered strength, a feeble commodity, and dragged his slick cock from her ass. As he settled back on his knees in sweet relief, Grace twisted her head around.
"God," she said softly. "I - I hoped you'd do that. I had the most w-wonderful cum a woman ever had!"
That was the first 'nooner' with Grace and in a week, five more. Joseph faced Monday and Gale by simply not being in his studio at noon. He excused his chippy tendencies with Grace by telling himself she was his prodigy's mother and there was no real way to avoid her. He excused his disinterest because fucking Grace in the ass didn't obscure her worrisome face. And it was worrisome. In passive moments, she looked about fifty years old and he sympathized with Charlie Trevor.
Need for a third excuse hadn't occurred to him. Gale went through a rhapsody by Rachmaninoff very credibly and then through her tinkling lyrical melody. Joseph already recognized it as a 'fuck' melody and it tipped him over also. He smothered her in his arms and assaulted her with genuine kisses. Gale responded with fervor. Her little hands soon had his cock out, and he crouched astraddle the piano bench while she fondled it.
She skinned it back tenderly then jacked him off joggily. Her hot eyes were not at all childish; he thought she was going to suck him off as she had in Rubin's broadcast studio.
"You've been doing something with it!" she said suddenly.
Joseph silently cursed Grace's tight asshole. His cock was inflamed from the close friction, but he hadn't realized Gale would notice the redness or the puffiness.
"I - I bumped it with a corner of the music stand," he lied. "It's all right. Go ahead and suck it if you want to!"
"It looks all puffy and swollen, Mr. Stewart! Kind of bigger!"
"Well, that's better, isn't it?"
She nodded and continued to manipulate his foreskin. He suddenly wanted her and couldn't explain it to himself. She was tiny, semi-developed, he knew. He had come so far with her career a matter of his responsibility, and with it had come some mysterious emotional involvement. She depended upon him and the feeling her dependence gave him was unlike any he had ever experienced. And she loved him, he was sure, even though her emotions were immature and her expectations quite girlish. There was nothing childish or inept about the way she handled his cock; it was easy to forget that her sex life was only three or four weeks old while she did little acrobatics with his prick.
Joseph didn't say it because the word 'love' had a hundred connotations he wasn't ready to explain, and a hundred more responsibilities he wasn't able to fulfill. But his eyes grew softer and his hands on her shoulders were gentle as he swayed his hips toward her and tensed his cock in her fingers.
"I guess I won't suck it today," she decided. "But, you can fuck me if you want to!"
Then they both laughed. Joseph helped her up from the piano bench and they moved, arm in arm, rather lopsidedly, to the old sofa. There, Joseph sat down first, his cock still out and up-angled.
"Do you want to take off your clothes, my dear?"
Gale giggled. "I never did that before! Should I?"
He winked. "It's better when you're naked," he confided.
"How do you know that?"
He was temporarily stumped. Finally he said, "Fucking comes more naturally to men than to women!"
Gale twisted around to reach the buttons down the back of her dress. "The heck it does!" she said breathlessly. "We just have to be more careful 'cause we can get p-pregnant!"
He hesitated. "I've bought you some pills. Maybe you'd better take one every day."
She shivered in the cool air of the afternoon. She was completely naked, except for socks and ballerinas. He looked at her adoringly and stroked his cock subconsciously. Her slim body was almost hipless and her tits were abnormally large for a girl of her age. He tweaked the nipple of her left breast. "Okay, I'll get them ready for you," he said.
Gale giggled. "Then I'll be a real grown-up woman, huh?"
He went to a drawer in the other room and returned with a lately purchased package of contraceptive pills. He palmed one out and gave it to his little nude goddess. She gulped it down and giggled again.
"What if it doesn't work?" she demanded.
"It'll work," he said confidently.
She peered owl-like at him. "Why do you kind of jack yourself off when you walk or sit or talk?"
"Because I'm hot for you, chicken!" Once more she giggled. "Okay! We can make love now!"
He had never thought of himself as a compellingly-romantic lover, and as they settled on the sofa better suited to action than romance, he realized how sophisticated she'd become about fucking. Unlike piano, knowledge of sex came quickly, and as he crowded over Gale, her hand went again to his cock and she lost all signs of frivolity. She wasn't hasty nor harried. She snuggled under him, a little naked doll who flopped her slim legs handily and manipulated his penis with slow fingers. It stiffened perceptibly for it was some tender from her mother's asshole and Gale was incredibly adept at teasing the swollen foreskin and titillating the throbbing head.
He let her play. He hung over her, neither speaking nor jerking. He lightly fingered her tits and belly and looked lovingly at her cunt, spread for him and just barely oozing sex juices in anticipation of what was to come. Once he stole a glance at her face and he recognized the difference between the Gale of now and the Gale of several days ago. She seemed hypnotized by sex, and he was sex. His arms tightened around her lithe body and he was overcome with emotion.
Finally it was she who turned and pulled him down to her cunt, like a much older woman in search of satiation. For a moment she seemed lost under him and in the cushions of the old sofa. Her free arm came up and looped over his shoulders, the other hand guided his cock with unerring finesse.
"That's the way it is so good," she murmured. "When I put it in! I can feel how it slides in my hand and then goes right in! What's a dildo?" she asked irrelevantly.
He was breathless but not yet senseless. "What? Oh, it's a phony penis," he told her. "Made of rubber or some kind of plastic!"
She giggled and the sensation was not quite like any other. Her belly tightened and it made a delightful tightness come to her cunt. "Is it - as good as a real cock?"
Joseph was flat out on her, his hips describing the mild undulations that were always so sweet when they had begun to fuck. His eyes were half closed in intense feeling and he belabored them open. "Well, I wouldn't know," he said, and thought the academic conversation a bit untimely. He jolted her hard in an attempt to get her mind back on her work.
"Umph!" she grunted. "Can I have one? I mean, I heard the girls at school talking about them! They are good for girls when they are all alone! Gosh, don't do it so h-hard for a moment! Oh. I'm going to have my period in a couple of d-days!"
"I'll get you one," he said, rather than to make an argument when his cock was so enjoyably buried in her quivering body. He used some lunges and thrusts he didn't normally use, and Gale responded. Her little bottom came up and she twisted it at critical moments, only to relax and slip almost away from his cock.
"Goody," she husked.
"Goody what?" He only faintly remembered the subject matter.
"Goody for a phony cock! Oh, get me a b-big one, Mr. Stewart!"
Then she fell silent and fucked him straight to his orgasm. By then she had learned to vibrate cooperatively while his jism pumped and he went half out of his mind with blind passion. But she spoiled it by giggling as his cum eased.
"I bet it won't do that!" she said.
"What won't what do?" he asked in sex stupidity.
"Spew me full of goo that's all hot and slick and sticky! Will it?"
He bit her shoulder lightly then transferred his mouth to her bare tits. "You ask the darnedest questions - at the darnedest times!" he said lazily. "No. I suppose you have to come to me for that!"
CHAPTER SEVEN
A week later, Joseph scored. Chamber music wasn't very impressive and there was only fifty dollars involved. " - for expenses incurred by the artiste," the check said. But there were hidden possibilities; for one, two members of the Aragon Conservatory of Music would be in the audience and it was rumored that they were preparing to select logical applicants for the yearly scholarship. The idea of scholarships wasn't very immediate, but Joseph had regulated his mind to the fact that Gale was very young and all things worthwhile took time.
"It takes place the twenty-second of June, after your school is out. We have time to work real hard! You have one piece with the chamber group, and one solo," Joseph explained to Gale and her parents. "I know, there isn't much money involved but there is an opportunity to display your talent!"
"I'm an artiste with an V," Gale boasted childishly.
"The money isn't important as long as you feel it's the right step in the right direction, Mr. Stewart," Charlie said solidly.
"I do," Joseph assured him.
"Oh, we'll be so proud!" Grace gushed. Then she looked right at Joseph who hadn't been too attentive for the past few days. "And we so hope you won't get too discouraged and - abandon our Gale, Mr. Stewart! We depend so upon you!"
He smiled with more enthusiasm than he felt. "Well, I depend quite a bit on you, too. Gale is doing just fine! The only thing is that it takes a world of promotion to be successful with a young musician nowadays. I expect there are ten thousand budding piano maestros in Los Angeles!"
"But I'm an artiste with an V" Gale reminded him.
"Indeed you are," Joseph agreed.
One step out into the street, the 'e' didn't seem very important. There was too much City, too much cultivated coldness, too much hazard. Talent wasn't enough. It took money and publicity to promote a child performer and the scope of potentialities was limited. Yet Joseph was determined to try, for Gale was not only good, she was a good fuck. Joseph didn't really think of her as a good or a bad fuck, but only as his fuck. He had gone for so many years, possessing nothing but his agile fingers and the forced solitude of the big city, that his heart was bursting with suppressed ambition. Now that he had Gale, and he felt he really had her, no obstacle seemed formidable.
So chamber music was largely hogwash, but he was shooting for that scholarship. So scholarships were tedious and seemingly endless, but he was willing to chance it. The Aragon Conservatory was local, and Joseph knew he could 'manage' Gale when the occasion occurred. And he had it figured that she could go to public school five days a week and the Conservatory classes three nights a week and be free to do as he directed on weekends. 'As he directed' could be play piano or fuck. Or a happy medium involving both.
As he parked his old Nash behind the house that contained his studio as well as his sleeping room, Joseph frowned. He'd need a new car and some hip-musician clothes and a new studio if he was going to be a top-notch impresario. That thought started an entire train of impossible conjectures. It took money to make money and Joseph's bank account was only a little more than thirteen hundred dollars.
Then he remembered the Trevors' enthusiastic plans for Gale. He would make Charlie work a little harder and squeeze a little tighter and Joseph would con Grace into buying him a few necessities.
That meant fucking her a little deeper and more often and waxing wildly about her sagging tits and resilient asshole. Joseph scowled again and gradually relenquished the grimace. It wouldn't be so bad. She didn't turn him on, but she didn't turn him off. The only problem if there was one, was keeping Gale from wising up that she was sharing Joseph's cock with her mother. After all, he could only bump his cock once in a while with a music rack, and the kid was getting smarter every day. He'd keep her so busy she wouldn't have time to be observant. With Grace it didn't seem to matter. Joseph had the opinion that as long as it was a prick, and fastened to the belly of a man, Grace Trevor was content.
Joseph suddenly felt bad. He didn't want to fool Gale and he didn't want to chippy on her. She was sweet and trusting and amazingly naive, for all her 'fuck' sophistication. And she was his, which cast her innocence in an entirely different light. He sighed. But for a while, until the car and the clothes and the new studio were in evidence, he would be required to service both mother and daughter. He hoped his balls were as strong as his determination, and that skin healed quickly on an abraised cod.
He popped it on Grace because she came to the studio the following noon and he was curious to see how a mature woman acted in the face of it. Half out of her dress, Grace stared with wide-open eyes.
"Good gosh!" she exclaimed. "What's that?"
Joseph held the rubber dick forward and rubbed the head on one of her pulsing tit tips. "What does it look like, darling?"
"It looks like you've carved up a hell of a big man, that's what it looks like!"
It was huge. It was longer than any human's cock and thicker, and the head was a pure knob on the end of the pliable shank. It also had molded veins and foreskin and it possessed a set of mock balls. Joseph thought it looked mighty fearful and he suspected it was nerve-shattering to a woman who contemplated being penetrated with the monster.
"It's made of rubber-stuff," he laughed. "It's for wives of traveling salesmen," he joked. "Guaranteed not to tire or give up when the going gets good! Want to try it, Gracie?"
She was a bit slower about dropping her dress. He didn't know whether it was shock or fear. He wobbled the false prick before her. "We can use it fine," he said, curling one hand around the dildo.
Anyway, tomorrow he had to visit a sexshop and buy Gale a big polyethylene dildo because she seemed hipped on the erotic device.
"I'll get up your backplace and you can use this in your pussy! A new high in exquisite feeling! The brochure says so!"
She shuddered and her dress dropped off. "God, it scares me!" she said, then she giggled. "But the idea is good! If I have room for both! Oh, come on, let's try it, Joseph!"
"I'll get some Vaseline," he said considerately.
"Who needs it?" Grace almost shouted. She snatched the colossal device from him and without hesitation, half-squatted and inserted the big head between the lips of her cunt. She gasped but didn't stop wiggling and working the club-ended cock inward. Up to then, Joseph had not gotten a hard-on, but sight of the crouched nude Grace with the dildo firmly inserted into her cunt did it. As she pushed and began to undulate to the huge cylinder, he slowly unbuckled his trousers and dropped them down.
With six or seven inches of the device firmly imbedded, she looked up and grinned wryly. "Ooh, boy! Why didn't they invent these things years ago?"
"They did," Joseph said, stroking his prick idly. "Just different material, is all!"
Grace closed her eyes and fondled the three or four inches of shank she hadn't used. "Lovely material! So long and thick and cool! Hup-hup-hup!" she cooed as she jolted her inner abdomen with the indifferent polyethylene. Then she slowly turned around and bent over. The shank and phony balls thrust back, continuing the angle of her cunt. Her rectum was slightly pooched; Joseph thought that was logical. His cock up-angled in tight thrilling. He suspected he'd need a shoehorn to get into it.
"Come on, man! Oh, Christ, I'm going nuts!"
Poised above the vibrating shank, he thought his cock looked a little feeble, but he knew it wasn't. "It - it may hurt a little, at first," he warned her. "That's a lot of bulk for one woman to take!"
"Please, Joseph, hurry!" she said, the glee fading out of her voice as intensity came in.
Her asshole was normally very easy to enter, but it looked difficult now. Grace had confessed that Charlie had only gone the kiester route once or twice and that Joseph had inspired her by the awkward spew of his cock in the shed that day. But he had fucked her several times and her ass had given up some of its initial hesitancy. Now she let her butt wave and he stepped forward, cock in hand.
It went in easy, but that was all. With an inch or two firmly seated in her asshole, his cock met sudden crowding.
"My p-pussy's full!" Grace panted. "You have to push harder!"
"It'll hurt," Joseph warned her.
"Hurt-shurt! Push! Sock it t-to me!" Joseph reset his feet. Not only was her rectum tightly filled by what the dildo was doing to the soft tissues of her cunt, her asshole was constricted from strain and stress. He thought his cock was being peeled. The head wedged high and hurt like hell when it reached the end of its course. It took effort to stroke it in the only way he knew how.
"Oh, goddamn, god-double-damn!" Grace wailed. Her right hand came back and she gripped the dildo with firm resolve. As she began to work it in and out, Joseph could feel each stroke. A bump in the tissue of her gut seemed to be raw dildo. After a moment, they settled into harmony. When Joseph pumped inward, Grace hauled the dildo out. They got mixed up a time or two, for passion was their inspiration, and Grace howled with sudden distress. But she didn't stop or cringe away and knowing that she loved the pain drove Joseph to mightier lunging.
"I'm going to c-cum in a minute," Grace said with amazing calm. "This rubber gadget is driving me n-nuts!"
"Say when!" Joseph husked, letting the cum build in his cock.
"When!" Then, "Ooh, my butt is blowing up!"
"Fire hose coming up!" Joseph joked, then hell cut loose in his perineum and it wasn't funny. He caught her on the instroke and she was on the outstroke. She let the dildo slip completely free of her cunt and for the first time, he actually thought he felt her orgasm. He knew she could feel his. It spurted in needle sharp spewing and pumped and pumped until he was sure every drop was drained. Then Grace rolled to one side and his cock, still oozing, slipped from her asshole. She giggled.
"Man, we have to do that again!" she cried. Her giggles continued. "I'm a dirty old wench, aren't I, Joseph?"
He chuckled. "Well, I'd say that right now you are a bit hollow!"
She closed her eyes. "Lovely hollow, lovely cock, lovely dildo! Hoo boy! Thirty years old and just learning how to screw!"
Later, Joseph drove to another sexshop on Lankershim. He needed another dildo because it was obvious that the one he had deserved a place in the bottom drawer of his dresser. And the one he thought was shorter and thinner, for he remembered how the big original had stressed Grace's well-developed cunt and he had a bit of feeling for Gale.
But dildoes and hysterical women with itchy assholes didn't solve any of the problems Joseph had set for himself. The Chamber Music Society advised him over the telephone what music was programmed; he happened to have both piano scores, so after he'd gone over them to be sure Brahms wasn't too complicated for Gale's limited octave span, he called the Trevor house. Only Grace was home. Charlie was working and Gale was busy at school with the tribulations of last weeks of class.
Grace wanted to talk dirty and say sexy things but Joseph finally got her to settle down and take some notes. Among the indiscriminate sheets of music, he felt that Gale possessed at least one of the selected pieces, and if she didn't, any bit of Brahms would do for her practice until she could pick up the proper score.
"When can I come for my next piano lesson?" Grace queried coyly.
He chuckled with heavy tones, quite sexily. "Whenever you feel you need one," he said. "Like tomorrow noon. There'll be an extra special meeting of the Ladies Aid Society!"
"Oh, Joseph!"
"Yeah," he grunted. "I'm going out in the morning to talk to my banker about possible financing for a new car. I may have some trouble so don't be alarmed if I'm late, huh?"
"What kind of trouble, dear?"
"What kind of trouble is there in the world? Money, that's what! Takes four thousand dollars and I haven't got that much. I'll have to talk some. I don't have a static income and I sure haven't got that kind of money in the bank!
There was a half-minute of silence. Joseph waited patiently. He could almost see her frown of worry and he imagined the other thoughts playing through her mind. Fuck thoughts with dildoes and stiff cocks and panic that went with a woman not quite over the hump. Finally she said hesitantly: "I don't know. Maybe I - I could help you, sweetheart. I have a little money that - Charlie doesn't know about! Maybe I could loan you some!"
He snorted a laugh he intended her to hear. "Hell, honey. It couldn't be a loan - unless we get Gale into the upper brackets! It would probably end up as a gift!"
"That's all right, dear," the diminished voice said. "I understand."
"I know you do," he said with thick sincerity. "Well, keep it warm for me until tomorrow, huh?"
"I'll think about it - all night, dear!" she replied in a voice that was neither diminished nor doubtful.
She 'll sail, he thought. And he didn't feel that he was going to cheat her. Excluding certain 'side issues,' they were all in the business of promoting Gale together. Charlie was coughing up money for piano lessons, Joseph was dedicating much time and effort to the cause, and if Grace had to give up the walking-around money she'd pinched from her husband, so be it. It was, broadly considered, all in the family.
He thought about the Chamber Music Society's formal presentation on the twenty-second of June. It wasn't a closed performance, but the audience would be relatively small and very select. He began to run down a list of the important people he wanted to attend. Gale might not get the scholarship award and Joseph didn't intend to totally waste the golden opportunity.
He called the first two names on his list. One was a Jew with a miraculous record of promoting young talent. Jake Gingrich might want to steal a feel or two of Gale's pert ass, but that was about as far as Jake's age would let him go. The other man was Melvin Felweiz, another Jew who was advertising consultant for a prominent firm who dealt in futures. Particularly if the futures had to do with young and pretty girls with talent. He said the same thing over the telephone to both men.
"Hello. Nice to hear your voice. This is Isadore Stawesky. I thought I'd call to put you wise to a nice thing that very few people know about! The twenty-second of June, the Chamber Music Society is putting on a performance in their Wilshire Boulevard hall. That's no great innovation, but they are presenting a little girl pianist that's out of this world! She's cute and well stacked - for thirteen years - and she plays classical piano with a flair! Friendly too. She's shooting for the Aragon Conservatory scholarship, but I thought it would be a ruesome thing for her to spend a year or so learning more music without utilizing the - ahem, talent she already has!"
Joseph waited a minute for both men to quit sputtering.
"She's only thirteen-years-old - but quite mature for her age," he added. "I've been giving her piano instruction for some months and I assure you, she has reacted - splendidly!"
There was a bit more talk but Joseph was sure he had gotten over what he wanted to sell. He didn't often reveal his true name but there was a definite advantage to Isadore Stawesky when one talked to the two powers in the world of entertainment. He thought victoriously about the two men, one fat and one lean, sitting like omnipotent Buddhas behind their desks, nursing failing hard-ons over his description of Gale Trevor. She could not be hurt by anything they were able to generate and they could do her a lot of good. And Joseph, too.
CHAPTER EIGHT
School was suddenly out. It had sundry positive and negative influences on Joseph. Primarily it forced Grace to nearly abandon her no oners because Gale was home, busily practicing her Brahms. Joseph could cruise around in his new Dodge Charger without having to plan on being at the old studio between twelve and two. More important to the conspiracy, Gale had graduated from the eighth grade with scholastic honors, assuring her of qualification for the Aragon Conservatory, which demanded that 'prospects' be of high school age, at least.
And she was progressing nicely, far more rapidly than she had done before Joseph exerted any pressure. All of a sudden she could reach an octave if there weren't any complicated chord fingering within the span. Also, her tits seemed to expand and Joseph laid it to the fashion that semi-tropical Los Angeles effected budding girls in the summertime. He virtually forgot that he had given Gale the dildo some days ago, and anyway, his mind worked more logically than that. Boys couldn't extend their cock by masturbation and he couldn't assume girls could bloom their tits by sticking a polyethylene cock up their eager cunts.
Two days before the twenty-second, he had news.
"Mr. Gingrich called me today," he said to Gale.
"Mr. Gingrich? Who's he?"
"A talent promoter," Joseph said cautiously. "He's a man with many connections. He asked how you were coming along. I said, fine. He's going to be at the Chamber performance. You have to be - super!"
"It'll be a cinch," Gale said with confidence.
"It takes more than that for Mr. Gingrich!"
Gale giggled and danced across the floor with spritely step. "That sounds suggestive! What's he want, a flashing beaver?"
With legs out-stretched, she tipped back and forth in rhythm. It was less artistic than it was lewd because since school had let out, Gale had traded her mini-skirt for a mini-mini skirt, and to defy the school administration, she had adopted pull-over sweaters and abandoned a brassiere or let them sag so loosely they hardly did more than put unsightly wrinkles under the Jersey knits. Joseph looked at her with narrow, calculating eyes. She'd drive Gingrich right out of his mind. With Gale for inspiration, he might even develop half-a-hard-on.
"Perhaps not," he said to the beaver remark. "But Mr. Gingrich - is funny. He's quite friendly. He may startle you by - patting your ass, or something like that!"
Gale stilled, looking at him. Then she grinned. "So the old guy - I guess he's old! - wants to pat my butt! Who cares? I won't wear a brassiere that night and he can pull my tits too!"
"You will wear a brassiere," Joseph said quietly. "And you will wear one tonight when we go for rehearsal with the chamber group!"
Gale pouted. "What are they, a bunch of squares?"
"No. But you'll treat them as if they are."
Her lower lip protruded sulkily. "What if my cunt itches - like it does right now?"
He smiled. "Scratch it but turn your back! Right now, you can take off your dress and we'll see about that itch!"
She brightened. "Yes, doctor!"
He reached for her and she stepped into his hands, her dress half-lifted in eagerness. He peeled her panties down before she shed the brief-skirted dress and the feel of her warm soft skin mesmerized him as it had always done. He thought of something.
"Do you use the - dildo often, sweetheart?"
"Every single night," she replied softly. "I can take six and three-quarters inches. I measured!"
"Is it fun?" he asked with a twinge of pique. "Yeah! I get on the bed and fold my legs up real tight! Then I stick it in. It takes some jiggling, but pretty soon I've got the whole six and three-quarters inches right up me! Then I lower my legs and work it in and out!" She giggled. "I cum quick!"
"Quicker than on this?" he asked, leaning back and flipping his cock out.
Very nonchalantly, Gale said, "Oh, I always cum two or three times on that. I leave you way behind, Joseph! Let's d-do it now!"
It was awkward and not very well planned, but they had become so accustomed to each other that they didn't need a program. He spread his thighs wide apart and she hunched down to let his prick nudge her cunt. He thought the last month had grown considerable mouse-blonde fuzz on the delicate mound. And the little slit seemed bigger and more defined.
When he got his cock in an inch or two, she folded forward and hugged his neck. He liked that. Her slim arms clutched at his shoulder muscles and her chest with its pair of blossoming bulbs rubbed his shirt. He couldn't see, but her mouth slobbered wetly against his neck. Her hips wagged and undulated and once in a while, she surged forward to get his cock further into her sex.
And because it was 'habit' with one Trevor woman, his hands rested lightly on her bare ass, guiding her when it grew ecstatic, emphasizing it when she pumped and letting her float in his palm; when she did the little dance that so titillated the head of his cock. She giggled under his chin.
"I'm going to cum - the first time! The second's better - it takes longer! You're not, are you?"
"No, baby," he said. Then she yipped and did a small irregular jiggle and after a moment, she resumed her waggling. Then he did something, not because it was compellingly erotic but because she was sex and she was in his arms. His fingers on her bottom curled intently with a middle finger depressed her asshole. He rubbed slowly and firmly.
"You - you better stop that," she murmured against his neck.
"It's fun, isn't it?" he asked.
"I tried it - with the dildo!" she said. "But it takes some face cream or something!"
"Did you like it - in?" he husked.
"Not at first! It stings and burns, like! It was all right with my finger - kind of icky - but all right. It was when I tried to get the d-dildo in that it hurt and burned so!"
"We won't do it that way," he said with commendable restraint. He moved his finger and used it to reach under her crotch and fill up some cunt space he wasn't using. Gale undulated enthusiastically. "It's all right!" she said. "You can if you want to!"
"No," he decided, despite the way her bottom kinked backward.
"Well, at least, put your finger back! Oh, my gosh, I'm going to cum again! Oh, darn, darn that's g-good!"
He returned his middle finger to her anus. Gale kinked her hips even more and his cock slipped free from her cunt to bump and nudge the soft mound of her mons venus. She was terribly excited and became animated in his arms. Blindly he rubbed her asshole and before he knew it, the ball of his fingers was securely in her sphincter.
"No," he said.
"Y-yes!"'
It was the first time she had ever defied him. But she didn't do it with the persistency of an adult, she did it with the bouncy impatience of the child she was. It was as if he had told her they were going to the zoo or a circus. She danced up and down between his knees and his finger worked a bit deeper. His cock bumped her crotch and it didn't seem to matter to Gale whether it was in or out. Suddenly she quieted.
"Do - it for me," she half-whispered.
Joseph thought of all the reasons he shouldn't sodomize her. She was terribly small to begin with, though if she had played with the dildo in her rectum, that was not a valid reason for abstinence. But tonight was the rehearsal for the Chamber Music Society and it had to go well. That was a valid reason for caution. A great deal depended upon her playing with inspired fingers and he wasn't sure she could do that with a burning asshole. He well knew how little things, unrelated to music, could upset a pianist. He looked down at his cock and her slim nudity.
Her cunt was gaping slightly. Her belly jiggled cutely and reminded him of all the delights hidden in her body.
He wanted to screw her, anyway that came to his mind. He cursed the need for caution of any kind. All the while his finger delved into the tight, hot aperture and now he could feel the slick heat and the sensitive tissues. A wave of fire went down his spine.
"Will you play well, tonight?" he breathed tensely.
"Don't I always?" she countered through jouncing teeth.
"Not always," he murmured.
"Fuck me there!" she demanded.
He gave up. He had argued, not so much because sodomy might be dangerous but because his control over Gale was imperative and he had a tendency to think negatively in terms of his own childhood.
"All right," he said, relinquishing his half-buried middle finger.
"Yes," she said, suddenly out of breath. She turned between his knees and if he hadn't made up his mind before, sight of his big cock aimed at her perky little behind would have done it. He wrapped one arm around her and pulled her back. There was a moment during which his cock reacted stiffly to her eagerly-crowding rump, then it found snugness and pressure and incredible heat in the secret places of her undercrotch.
Gale tensed, half-crouched, legs spread slightly and her breath sucked tightly in while she waited. She didn't know much about being sodomized and he supposed that stance facilitated the dildo but it was useless when the cock was attached to a lusty male. He turned them both, grunting because the way his cock was tucked under her bottom was excruciatingly good. Then she was bent over on the sofa and his cock up-angled freely.
"Take it easy, now!" she said back over her shoulder. "It kind of hurts - at first!"
He was really blind to technique. He stared at her bended ass and the deep crevice spotted with relaxed brown where his finger had been playing. It seemed that if he didn't get his cock into that sweet little aperture he would go crazy. He hunched over her, and depressed the rosebud with his prick. The touch sent shudders of ecstasy through him. Then Joseph forgot to be gentle.
He nearly pushed her flat on her face, and would have but the sofa back lent her support. She said, "E-e-whoie!" His prick was headless in the tight circlet of the penetrated sphincter. He remembered a similar moment with Grace, her mother, and because assholes weren't like wet, eager cunts, he braced his feet and rooted. It went slowly in. For a moment, he thought he'd torn his foreskin loose, so critical was the grip and tension. Then abruptly everything eased and her bowel relaxed. Joseph stroked her smoothly, and his balls beat softly against her cunt and crotch contours.
"Ooh, darn, darn, that's g-good, Joseph! Oh, put it in - deeper! Fiddle with my - sexplace! F-flip it with your finger."
It didn't seem to go much deeper, but four inches was enough for him. He had learned a lot from Grace. He rode high, angling his cock downward so it pressed and worked her sensitive cunt through the thin tissue of her gut. He grinned; bend her rectum so it touched all the critical places. He reached for and found Gale's cunt, gaped by the undue pressure he was forcing from behind. He felt her shudder so he knew he had her just right. She said so. "Ooh-ah-yoy-darn it!"
"Cuming, baby?" he asked through stiff lips. "The s-second time! Twice. Keep doing it!" He only murmured, more of a purr because his orgasm was coming up tight. His lips came down and kissed the bow of her neck and his hands grasped her delicate belly with a finger extended to reach her little cunt. He could feel his huge penis working in her rectum when he shoved the finger deep in the squirming tissues. "Now!" he husked. "Ooh, gosh!" Gale squealed. "Yeah," he repeated and proceeded to drain his spine into her milking rectum. He had a moment of sanity before he fell sideways in exhaustion; secret expulsion muscles designed by a benevolent nature were a boon to fucking a girl in the ass.
She turned and looked at him as he fell lethargically to one side. Her face still bore the strain of intense emotion and her smile seemed friendly, not at all passionate.
"Well, piano player, you've been well fucked in the butt!" he said.
Gale giggled. "Oh, boy! And it doesn't hurt or burn! Your cock is much better than that darned old dildo! Anyway, I like it better!" Again she giggled. "It has hairy balls that tickle nice!
He picked her up at seven-thirty in the new car her mother had bought for him. Joseph was a little taken aback, because in addition to combing her hair a new way, she wore a tight pull-over sweater and even tighter light wool slacks. She tossed her new music holder in the back seat. It was a pigskin brief case with fancy brass snaps.
"Why didn't you buy one with a zipper?" Joseph asked as they started.
"I get hot pants when I work a zipper," she said with juvenile smartness and patted his leg. "Is it going to be fun, tonight?"
"Not much, but a lot of concentrated work," he replied. "Brahms doesn't seem very complicated but the pianoforte must be played exactly right or it sounds like something out of tin pan alley! I hope you went through the third movement when you got home tonight."
Gale again giggled rather self-consciously. "You gave me the runs! I spent half the time on the darn John!"
"Blood?"
She shook her head. "Just - the spuie-poops!"
It took him thirty minutes to drive to Wilshire Boulevard and five more to find a suitable parking place because of the theater hour. When they arrived in the Chamber Music Hall, Joseph felt at home in the confusion of rehearsal preparations. The place seemed full of people doing odd things and even the musicians were busy. As usual, the stage wasn't big enough for the nine musicians and the piano and there was some to-do about a plywood addition to the stage and carpet to dull the vibrations of the instruments. Two electricians were busy arranging the muted overhead lights. Everything came to a screeching halt as Joseph ushered Gale forward. A smart electrician flipped a spot on Gale. Somebody sighed, "Hey, man!"
Bull-voiced and very confident, Joseph introduced Gale to the gawking collection. Then he ushered her forward and introduced the Maestro to her. Gregor Hessenwitch was fifty-odd, with a shock of gray hair and twinkling eyes. For the rehearsal, he wore a plain gray wool shirt and baggy khaki trousers. His hands, when he shook with Gale, were woman-soft and gentle.
"I see you have your music," he said calmly. "Can you play it?"
Gale blinked and Joseph smiled. "You bet she can, Maestro! She has responded very ably to my instruction for several months!"
Hessenwitch looked askew at Joseph, then smiled at Gale. "Yeah. By me a friend telephoned today. Play well, for Mr. Gingrich wants me to let him know if you make like a popcorn machine or a piano player!"
"I'll be good," Gale said.
"Yeah. We shall see!"
They decided that Gale should play two numbers with the chamber group. That would give the regular pianist a chance to drive from her home in Orange. "I'm sorry," the hawk-nosed regular said. "I would not do such a thing, but it'll be impossible for me to leave home before eight-thirty and the concert starts at nine! I'm so sorry!"
Joseph spread the music for the additional piece. It was Chopin, the "Fantasy Impromptu." It was the kind of music that did not go with an evening of Brahms, but it was the kind of music that an amature would choose as a test of his pianist's ability. He grinned inwardly. Unless he missed his guess, Gale had an 'edited' copy of the score in her new music case. There was a good chance that she knew it from memory, having played it so many times and so well in preparation for Jimmy Rubin's television program.
Joseph knew at once that the whole set-up was phony. There wasn't any reason the regular pianist could not get to the Chamber Hall on time, and the inclusion of the Chopin semi-classical rendition would simply add sprightliness to the rather subdued program of the Chamber. No one but a man with the influential power of Jake Gingrich could persuade Hessenwitch to risk such a faux pas.
"It's all right," he said very seriously. "She can handle it easily. Run through this for the nice people," he said, handing the sheets to Gale. Then he smiled rather sickly to the group as Gale went over to the big concert-grand and sat down.
CHAPTER NINE
Joseph I. Stewart was as high as he'd ever been. He stood in the lobby of the Chamber Music Hall, listening to the round of applause that was directed toward Gale Trevor. He looked very tall and straight and dignified in his tuxedo. A tight cluster of curious people who had not been able to get seats at five-fifty-and-city-tax a seat huddled at the curtain politely sealing off the small auditorium from the sterile but efficiently-mirrored lobby. Once in a while, someone would separate their interest and steal a glance at Joseph. He was very impressive in his sartorial elegance.
They had made it, there was no doubt in Joseph's mind. Seldom had he heard an ovation more enthusiastic and more sincere. Gale had not missed a beat or softed any of the difficult passages of Brahms. The orchestra had been magnificent, seemingly inspired by the slim girl in gray taffeta, a la moderne and pertly capped by a stylish hair-do. He was also quite aware of the meticulous precision Gregor Hessenwitch had insisted upon from the instrumentalists. It had been an evening of fine music and appropriate acclaim. Joseph could hardly see the opposite wall for the piles of gold. For a moment, he was Isadore Stewesky, the poverty-stricken Jew boy from the east side of Fresno. He was tempted to rub his palms together in exuberance. But not yet.
The concert was over, the applause faded. Up the center aisle poured the cream of Los Angeles society, the fat, the furred and the lean, all chattering wildly about the young pianist they had just heard and making short comments or extensive ones about her future. The men were more taciturn than the women; Joseph knew that concerts and special performances were hardly ever the men's bag, though he was sure a number of them were convinced that Gale was something. He nodded to those that nodded to him, and then he saw those he was looking for.
Mr. Williams and John Corey, of the Aragon Conservatory of Music. Samuel Williams was Chairman of the Board and John Corey was the. unofficial head of the Distinguished Scholar Division. They were faced by a heavy man with hardly any neck at all. He looked like a bulldog gruffly facing two potential antagonists. Joseph stepped forward.
"Mr. Gingrich! How nice to see you!" he said, extending his hand. The one that shook it smelled of cigar smoke. Gingrich merely grunted. "And you, Mr. Williams - and Mr. Corey! Well, how did you enjoy the program? There was a moment or two when I had my professional doubts, but the young lady allayed them. She was marvelous!"
"Are they going to get her?" Gingrich asked. "They want her!"
"Well, I hadn't really thought that far ahead," Joseph lied.
"It is unanimous!" Corey said, smiling broadly. "We haven't heard anyone with Miss Trevor's potential for a very long time, Mr. Stewart! The sky's the limit, I'm sure!"
Gingrich faced Joseph and raised a pudgy hand to stab Joseph's chest with a stiff middle finger. "You listen, boy! I knew all the crap these gents have to sell! Music, tons of it. Study 'til it comes out the kid's ears. A - leetle - bit of money! By the time she's sixteen or seventeen she knows more music than the New York Philharmonic! So what? She hasn't a dime, or a job to make a dime. All she can be is mebbe a piano teacher - "
"Like me," Joseph was forced to add.
"But think of the talent she'll have developed!" Mr. Williams. "I'm sure - "
Gingrich looked at the Chairman of the Board with some pity and very little sympathy. "Oh. You know a bank that deposits talent instead of cash, maybe? That's one I missed!"
Joseph listened with one ear to the friendly rivalry between much money and much music. The other was tuned to the distant tinkle of a piano. He thought it came from the duet-grand, stored in the rear of the auditorium under a heavy dust guard. It wasn't the piano that worried him. It was the piece someone was playing. The someone was Gale, for the piece she tinkled was "The Eyes Of A Woman In Love" - her fuck music.
He glanced down the aisle to the stage and all the musicians were gone. Artists or not, for 'scale' and three or four days a week of practice time, they could not afford to stand around in an empty auditorium. The stage was semi-dark and the music stands stood like short and tall podiums in an altar. Empty, all gone; but Gale was trying her personal piece of music on somebody.
He dared not unceremoniously leave the three important men. He cursed inwardly at the gay, unrestrained spirit of his ward. Well, not ward, exactly, but his.
Then Gingrich shrugged his fat shoulders. "Well, think about it. Be at my Hollywood office about lunchtime tomorrow. Oh, and bring that little doll with you, Stewart!"
"Perhaps you'd better give the Aragon office a call tomorrow afternoon." Mr. Williams said. "We may want to talk to you too!"
There were pleasantries and bluff good-byes. The lobby was nearly empty of late talkers, but Joseph maintained his calm. Not until he was in the aisle with the door-curtain at his back, did he hurry. He had to look for the duet-grand because of ante-rooms and several hanging curtains that hadn't been used but had been dusted. Then he found what he was looking for. In shrouded darkness, the cover had been thrown back from the keyboard of the duet-grand piano. Joseph blinked.
Gale was twisted on the piano bench, her pretty face lighted from one side. She was industriously and passionately sucking Gregor Hessenwitch's cock, and it was a job well worth some study. Joseph teetered closer to see better through a division of the curtain. He thought that was useless because the concert maestro had a big cock and he was nearly sixty. Age and his Polack heritage combined to distend his prick a full seven or eight inches, and Gale was atrophied by her considerable attention to detail.
Reason for leaning so he could see well was the old gray-haired conductor's intrigue. He stood with his violin sagged from his chin, his hand holding the neck, gracefully and uselessly. In the other hand, held high as if he had just finished a complicated passage of a magnificent concerto, he held the bow. Between the instrument and the bow, his gray head was tipped down so he could watch the suck and lick and cheek gymnastics of the small, lithe girl.
Then while Joseph watched, the old man got it. A look of fascinated amazement came to his lined face. His back arched and his hips rocked. He said, "Mein Gott!" then succumbed to the intense drag and swallow and gulp of Gale's mouth and throat. Jism leaked out of the corner of her mouth and she slopped it up with her pink, agile tongue. Then she kissed Hessenwitch's long cock from bloated head to the dark hairy root, lovingly and passionately.
"Dot's niz-z-z!" the old man cooed.
Gale let his prick slip from her lips. She giggled. "It was kind of obbligato, wasn't it?"
Joseph backed away from the curtain and walked to an empty seat in the auditorium. He tried to be logical. Maybe Gale was repaying the old man for his part in the successful concert. She couldn't be doing it as sort of a bribe against future performances, because she would probably never play for the Chamber Music Society again, and the old maestro wasn't very big in the scheme of money-music. Then Joseph scowled. Alibis were strictly bullshit. She's sucked the old man's cock because along with developing in many directions, she had become a hot-assed nympho with several strange and erotic appetites.
She didn't play her haunting, ascending sexmusic for practice.
He watched unmoving as she came down from the low stage on reverent tip-toe. She stared around the auditorium as if it were a new world. It was, Joseph thought, devoid of the hum of the audience and the discordant tune-up of the nine musicians. She looked very slight and tiny in the emptiness but very alive in the deadness and quiet.
"Did you have a pleasant evening?" he asked.
"Oh! Oh, I didn't see you, Mr. Stewart! Oh, it was just - just wonderful!" She slipped around a row of seats and came to him, a wraith in the ponderous gloom. "I - I was looking for daddy. He was sitting in the fourth row, or maybe it was the third! Is he anywhere - ?"
"He left some time ago. Wished you his best and said what a fine, workman-like job you did." Joseph said. "Said he'd see you when you got home."
"He's such a dear! I'll bet he was proud of me tonight!"
Joseph stood up and without saying anything, slowly walked toward the lobby. His was the last topcoat in the deserted cloakroom. He threw Gale her fur-collared tweed, hardly appropriate for the occasion, but it was all she had. They walked together past a man who was sweeping up cigarette butts and gum wrappers. They went out in the hallway and stood silently in front of the elevator doors. They opened with a clank and they went down to the ground floor. When the doors opened again, Gale put a querulous hand on Joseph's arm.
"Something's wrong," she said. "What did I do, goof an arpeggio, Joseph?"
He looked down at her plaintive face. "Never missed a lick."
"Well, what, then?"
"Well, let me explain something," he said as they walked out onto Wilshire Boulevard to the parking lot. "As of tonight, we're in business, according to Jake Gingrich. Now, music business is no different than any other! You don't suck a no-body's cock. You save that talent for people who count!"
Gale started to cry. By the time they were to the new Charger, she was sobbing audibly. Wisely, Joseph helped her into the front seat and, without a word, walked around and unlocked the driver's door.
"I - I c-couldn't help it," Gale sniffed. "You don't know!"
"He twisted your arm?" Joseph asked.
"He wore tight pants! Every time I looked at him, it was st-sticking out like a sausage! All the time I was playing, when I looked around for his direction, there it was! It was the biggest one I'd ever seen and it sure bulged his trousers! By the time I got through playing that cr-creepy Lullaby, I was all f-fuzzed up. Then when the concert was over and all the folks clapped, I sneaked back to the other piano. I played the piece that always kind of sets me up. He came back and was so nice. Asked me if I knew the whole thing and I said no, it was just a thing I'd heard. He said wait, he'd get his violin and play me the whole thing. He did and I g-got kind of crazy, listening to the piece and staring at his bulging p-pants. So I did it!" She giggled through her fading tears. "Boy, was it a dinger!"
Joseph turned onto the freeway over Sepulveda Pass.
"So I noticed," he remarked.
"Oh! Did you see me, doing it for him? He came right off, which I didn't think a guy his age could do!" She giggled again. "Darn near blew my tonsils off! They were kind of - bruised anyway!"
"Pop your gun?"
"N-no."
"Want to?" he persisted.
She nodded her head vigorously and tried a small smile. He flipped the car out of the traffic and swept into an off-ramp. It was suddenly dark because it was midnight and old Sepulveda Boulevard was sparsely streetlighted. He just pulled off into a graded lot.
"Oh, Mr. Stewart!" she panted as he reached for her.
"I'm not hung like that old Polack, but I know a thing or two!" he whispered as his arm closed around her and his mouth smeared wet on her cheek. Gloom was abruptly vanished. She giggled into his kiss and he could feel her little hand, amazingly strong, wriggling down the front of his trousers. He made a loosing movement of his coated shoulders and cursed the need for a topcoat in the cool of deep night.
"Shall I s-suck it for you, Mr. Stewart?" she asked softly.
He hugged her with fervent passion. "Whatever you want, baby! This is your night to howl! Nobody denies you anything you want, tonight. Fuck, suck or squeeze it off! I'm only sorry there's no piano so you could set yourself up right!"
She flopped his limber cock enthusiastically. Driving had hardly prepared him physically for her hand and warmth and frenzy. But he thought his prick was going to get very hard and last and last and last.
Lights flashed by on the Freeway, a hundred yards behind the charger. Truck exhausts sputtered and roared. Joseph, his cock a stiff white column in the night, got out of the Charger, his eyes turned lovingly back on Gale, sprawled in the front seat. The night breeze blew cool on his cock which was wet from her avid mouth. It sagged a little but it wasn't a condition that worried him. She'd bring it up tight again when the chilly breeze was replaced with her hot mouth and clinging fingers.
She had removed her coat and hiked her formal gown up around her waist. He hadn't seen her remove her nylon panties but he assumed she had sneaked them off - or hadn't worn any this evening, which he thought was very logical. Joseph walked around and opened the door on her side of the car. Gale flopped over and lay lengthwise in the seat, her legs slightly akimbo and her arms held up to grasp him when he leaned forward. Which she did very neatly. Her hands seized his rigid cock and she pulled him to her crotch. When she didn't have to reach so far, she jacked him off, aiming his prick at her lightly-furred and spraddled under body.
"I love you," she murmured. "This is so - lovely! Men can't possibly know how girls feel, lying spread wide open and holding a big thing to their p-part! Hoping you'll be filled and filled and split wide open! Oh, split me, Joseph, split me!"
He felt he could and he wanted to. His cock had swelled and stiffened in her hand and his balls had gathered under the root of his shank, like those of a charging bull. For a moment everything was even, the time he'd spent promoting Gale, the number of times he'd fuck her mother in the ass, the dildo and all the fingering leveled out into a sublime happiness. They had an appointment with Jake Gingrich tomorrow and tonight he was hovering breathlessly between Gale's slim spraddled legs. He forgot the pique he'd felt when he'd found her sucking Gregor Hessenwitch's gigantic cock hardly more than an hour ago.
He didn't think about her being young and small until he oozed his cock into her quaking, quavering cunt. She said, "Ooh-ah!" and raised her off-leg to rest the heel of her ballerina on the dashboard. As his prick wedged slowly into her tight vulva, his body crowded down and only her extended arms made him sure that she was still under him. Then he thought about Patrol Cars and the law, a sour note to Joseph, which he obliterated by stroking her ecstatically and deeply.
Excitement clutched him; it had already fired Gale with intense action. The console between the two front bucket seats forced her to curl and fold her legs tight against her chest. Even then, her naked butt thrust out over the edge of the seat and wobbled as he fucked her.
"You're steamed tonight, aren't you?" he husked, sensing the urgent lift and thrust of her tiny hips.
"It's been - a wonderful night! It still is!" she gasped.
"Comfortable? he mumbled.
She giggled. "How else could I be with all that lovely cock in me?"
"The old man had a bigger one," Joseph reminded her.
Again she snickered. "No muscles in his b-back! Oh!"
Joseph had muscles in his back. He caught her hard with his heels solidly planted in the dirt beside the car. Being tiny, she was wedged between the back of the seat and the rippled cushion and he surged to her bended butt, savoring her partial captivity. She seemed to like it too. She struggled and panted and wriggled, trying desperately to accent each undulation and twist he provided. There was nothing subtle nor terribly tender in their frenzy. It was as if they had never fucked before and were determined to make this illicit moment in the obscurity of night stand as some kind of an ultimate.
Then Joseph, grunting and panting with passion, began to think sentimentally. She was Gale, young and tender and frenzied for his caress. This night she had accomplished wonders with her talented fingers, made a big man out of him and star-struck an important audience. He couldn't help but believe she had been conscious of him when she had done it. And now she was fucking him with all her little might.
It was marvelous. The awkwardness of the Charger's front half-seat, the sinister threat of the traffic on the Freeway behind them and way his bare butt pumped and gleamed in the flashing lights, lent meaning to the spastic throb of her bare legs and the clutch of her slim arms and hands at his neck. Between them was fantastic heat, and it only made the chill of the night more meaningful. Suddenly, he was going to cum.
"You take your pill this morning?" he said through stiff lips. "Y-yup!"
"That's good," he said stupidly. "Cause you're going to g-give - give it t-to me, huh?"
He didn't reply for it wasn't necessary. His spine curled, his cock tightened. He made her yelp with the force of his lunge, and then everything eased. Gale wailed with emotion as he spewed jism high in her vulva. As the dynamic tension gradually faded, he relaxed on her heaving belly. The good lasted and lasted and Joseph wanted to say something romantically foolish but he didn't seem to have the strength. He was immensely pleased by the way she cooed unintelligibly and squirmed as the last of his orgasm oozed through the length of his sensitive prick.
"Hey," he said. "We'd better fold up and get going! One motorcycle cop spots us and we're in for it!"
"Just a minute more!" she pleaded. "Oh, it's s-so good!"
So he stayed still a minute longer and it was pretty good.
CHAPTER TEN
He was at her house again at ten in the morning. He and Charlie Trevor spent a half-hour congratulating each other for the successful performance Gale had given at the Chamber Music Society. While Gale rushed around the house, busying herself with last minute girl-things, Joseph sat in the front room, looking squarely up Grace Trevor's tapered thighs to the round of her bright, white-skinned ass. He might have been looking at a billboard, but he didn't let Grace know that she didn't turn him on.
When Gale was ready, they hesitated, waiting for Charlie to get his hat and make small comments about household matters that had to be attended during the day. He was deliberately late for work and he didn't seem to be excited by his tardiness.
"Daddy's kind of worried about money," Gale said when they were finally wending their way down Ventura Boulevard to Coldwater Canyon, which Joseph said was the quickest way over the mountain to Gingrich's Hollywood Boulevard office.
"We play our cards right, this morning, and Daddy won't have to worry any more about money!" he laughed.
"Mr. Gingrich wants to - hire me, huh?"
"Not exactly," Joseph said. "He'll be a second manager - after me! He'll arrange appearances - for money - and I'll see to it that you appear - and perform the way he expects you to!"
"Do I s-suck his cock?" Gale asked unexpectedly.
Joseph hedged a direct reply. He didn't really know if Gingrich even had a cock, or what the portly Jew promotor liked to do with it, but it wouldn't pay to tell Gale yes or no. "We'll see, baby," he said reaching over to pat her leg. "It isn't positive but it's something we don't dare ignore! Don't volunteer, but don't get squeamish if he - wants it, huh?"
Gale sighed. "I'm going to be a big star, aren't I?"
He nodded. Then he thought he'd take a chance. "If Charlie is worried about money, how does your mother feel?"
"All right, I guess." Then Gale giggled in her little-girl way. "Mama is kind of - flippy! I've never mentioned it to Daddy, but I think she's got a - boyfriend! She gets all dreamy-eyed and says funny things! And there's things that only girls know about!"
"Like?" Joseph poised on the springboard.
"Like gooed-up panties in the clothes hamper, and red marks on her breasts! I used to go to school all day and didn't notice those things. Not now. Sometimes she comes home about two-thirty in the afternoon, and is she a mess! She thinks I don't notice because I'm practicing, but I do! She douches a long time and changes all her underwear! Boy, how dumb does she think I am, anyway?"
Again, Joseph patted Gale's leg. "Don't look down your nose at what older women do - even if she is your mother! After a gal reaches thirty, she has some problems - with a boy friend! Well, here we are," he said, swinging around a corner and into a parking lot.
"It's a - hotel!" she said in awe.
"Don't let that bug you, baby. His office is a suite of rooms on the third floor. The Hollywood-Roosevelt caters to a lot of big operators. Bar and restaurant downstairs has a lot to do with it, and the hotel bit lends a facade of elegance to the entire matter!"
When he turned off the ignition, he discovered Gale was humming, and it was the ascending, lilting tune she cultivated when she got hot pants.
They entered the suite as if they were guests, the only difference being that Gale spelled out the name on the small brass nameplate on the door. The room had been converted into a normal receptionist's office, overseen by a pudgy blonde in horn-rimmed glasses.
"Miss Trevor and Mr. Stewart," Joseph said haughtily. "We have a noon appointment with Mr. Gingrich."
"Yeah, I know," the pudgy blonde said. "Go right in," she indicated a door. Then she looked askew at Gale. "Boy, they're getting younger every day!"
"What are?" Gale demanded.
The pudgy blonde went back to work. "You'll find out, dearie!"
"Come along," Joseph said to Gale.
Every vestige of a hotel room had been eliminated from the second room. Jake Gingrich sat, tieless and coatless behind a huge, well-littered desk. A triple row of file cabinets lined one wall, and the other was occupied by an old-fashioned leather couch. A breeze through the double windows flapped a curtain. Joseph thought there was the slight odor of sex in the room, but it could have been the ring of perspiration under Gingrich's fat arms. He looked up at the newcomers but didn't make any attempt to get up. He shook hands with Joseph by reaching laboriously across the desk. He smiled at Gale. Then he pushed a triple-folded paper forward. "There it is, Stawesky."
"What?" Gale asked.
He smiled warmly at her bright eyes. "Your contract, young lady! Option for two grand that covers a full year. For which you get twenty-five grand for a minimum of five performances. If you're nice - there may be a bit more money. F suppose you have this genius well signed up so that you can guarantee her appearances? You've got her California State work permit and her parents' permission and like that? Got to be sure everything is legal and forthright, you know."
Joseph was speechless; it was ten times what he had expected and it was staggering. "Yes, everything is in order!" he managed.
Gingrich nodded as if he expected everything to be cleared. "We'll get California to issue us an extension of privilege. I may want her to go to New York. Maybe Johnny Carson," he muttered. "Merve Griffin is out in California, now, so that's no problem. Young and Rubicam is the agency we have to deal with and that's easy! Young lady, you're on your way!"
"But I thought I was going to school at Aragon - a scholarship!" Gale said.
Joseph patted her shoulder. "With Mr. Gingrich's help, I'll buy you the Aragon Conservatory of Music," he said.
Gingrich chuckled weightily. "Well, not quite, but it's a fair idea! Are we agreed, Stawesky?"
"There are some details we'll have to work out, but we are agreed! I have a ten per cent interest in Miss Trevor's financial arrangements, but - nothing else."
"Power of attorney?" Gingrich asked.
"Yes."
"Sign," the obese promotor said, and pushed the tri-fold of papers across the desk. As Joseph fumbled his pen out and set himself for a legible signature, Gingrich picked up the house phone and punched a button on the base that immediately lit up.
"Yeah," he said through strangely immobile lips. "I'm going out for lunch with Miss Trevor and Mr. Stawesky, Gilbert. I won't need you any more today. You got your money so take a bus and go somewhere! See you Monday!"
Then he hung up and smiled apologetically. "Only a half-day on Saturday. Now that that is taken care of," he nodded at the papers which bore Joseph's angled and unreadable signature. "Let's get about the niceties of show business, huh? We can eat downstairs or up the street, or - have lunch sent up here."
Gale started to state a preference but Joseph held up a calming hand. "Up here - would be fine, Mr. Gingrich!"
The portly man smiled, wrinkling his fat-surrounded eyes and causing him to lick his plump red lips industriously. "Yeah," he said, and that monosyllable had a world of meaning to Joseph. He thought, well, baby, here we go.
While Gingrich called down to the dining room for a waitress and a luncheon menu, Joseph discretely moved Gale, wide-eyes and all, to the far side of the office.
"Why does he keep calling you Mr. Stawesky?" she asked instantly.
"Polish translation of my name - it's what he knows me as."
"Sounds funny," she said.
"He's a big enough man to sound any way he wants!" Joseph said sternly.
"Is he going - to fiddle with me? I mean, sexy-like?"
"Probably. Do you mind?"
She giggled. "Heck, no! I think he's kind of cute!"
Joseph was satisfied. "Big money, baby, and I've signed it!"
She looked up at him with a bland face. "That makes you my pimp, doesn't it, Joseph?"
Joseph couldn't evade an agreeable grin.
It didn't last long. The waitress set up the secretary's desk as a sparkling white table. That was for Joseph. She also set up Gingrich's desk. That was for the big man and the little girl. It seemed almost a pattern well known by the hotel waitress. Ostensibly, there wasn't quite enough room for the three of them at one desk - or in one room. Joseph, with the signed contract in his inner pocket, decided to let the chips fall where they would.
Lunch consisted of huge crab Louis salads, with garlic toast and coffee and later, when they were ready for it, ice cream. It wasn't particularly sumptuous, a typical hotel-type spread, but it sent Gale into the throes of girl-glee. It was her first experience and Gingrich's eyes grew beady - and greedy - as he watched her enthuse.
"We're going to get along, just fine," he said to her. "You're going to get used to the way I live real soon. Strictly first class, Gale. Here, sit over here close to me so we can both reach all the goodies real easy!"
"Isn't it wonderful?" Gale called to the next room where Joseph was glumly contemplating the crab Louis.
"Enjoy yourself," he said, and heard Gale's giggle of happiness.
After a minute or two, it got strangely quiet in the second office and Joseph knew Gingrich was on his way. After a minute or two more, he became man-curious as to what the promoter's gimmick was and he got silently to his feet and moved surreptitiously to the door for a peek.
Gale was sitting, giggly and squirming, on Jake's lap, what there was of it because of his fat belly. The food sat on the desk, properly ignored. Jake's fat right hand was out of sight under the hem of Gale's skirt. From the way his forearm moved, there was little doubt that he had at least one finger deep in Gale's pussy. Her legs were spread and her hips were softly undulating. Her giggle kept time to the movement of his arm.
Then she either decided to take command or his finger had stirred some vital need in Gale. With one arm securely around his stubby neck, she began to feel below the desk's edge. Gingrich shifted his bulk and grinned into her girlish kiss. Joseph backed away from the door, unwilling to witness what his little protege was about to do, and stilling the urge within him to hurl Jake's contract back and smash the bloated impresario in the mouth. Calmness is the cue to success, he kept telling himself.
Gale laughed, "It isn't very big, is it?" she commented softly.
"It will get bigger," Jake said. "Play with it a little!"
"Don't - finger me so hard," she said in a subdued voice.
Jake chuckled. "I got carried away! You're so cute and sexy I kind of forgot myself. Do you like to be - fingered, Gale?"
"Yes. It's better when you do it softer and with t-two fingers!"
"Like - this?"
"Oh, gee, yeah!"
Then eat the crab with your fingers, you big mother-fucker, Joseph thought. He tried mightily to calm what he recognized as jealousy of his over-enthusiastic pupil. It wasn't as if he hadn't known this was going to happen, in fact planned it that way.
"It's sort of hard," Gale said with a note of doubt in her voice. "But it's still not - very big." Then she bit her lip and looked quickly at Jake, as if she knew she'd hurt his ego.
Joseph began to feel better. Gale was still basically his and the sweet girl could recognize the difference between an old tired prick like Jake's and the cock he, Joseph, could provide her with. Speaking of which, he looked down and saw the growing bulge at the top of his pantsleg. He'd save it for her, he thought. She'd need it after she got done with the fat promoter, just as she'd needed it after going down on Hessenwitch. That strange emotion, somewhat akin to love, swept over Joseph again. He realized that there were pitfalls ahead in his relationship with Gale, traps he hadn't counted on.
"Are - are you going to fuck me?" Gale's voice broke into his reverie and he snapped to attention again.
Jake took a moment before answering and when he did, his voice was thick. "After that contract we just signed, little girl? Hell, no .. . You're going to suck me off. Know what that means?"
Gale giggled. "Oh, yes!" she said happily.
Still with her on his lap, Gingrich shoved his chair away from the desk to afford her more room. Joseph could see the fat white worm that Gale was clutching with both hands. He was relieved at this development. Somehow it was better than fucking, he couldn't explain why. He looked down again at the bulge of his cock, certain that Gale would want and need it very soon.
Joseph looked back in the other room and blinked. Gale was settled comfortable on her haunches, her pretty face serious and absorbed. Jake leered down at her, his face a perfect mask of lecherous anticipation. His limber prick lay across her small hands, twitching now and then as she fingered it knowingly.
Her frustrated teacher tried to be logical. He'd told her himself that she should do whatever Gingrich wanted. Music and money were involved and they led directly to sex. But then he heard the faint humming coming from Gale's rosy lips. It was her sexsong, of course. The lilting ascending tune stopped abruptly as she bent to the old man's cock and engulfed it in her mouth with one easy motion. It looked as if she were swallowing it whole.
Jake got an agonized, fascinated look on his face and Joseph didn't blame him. He knew too well how it felt to have that sucking mouth and active tongue on a swollen hard cock. He watched the lithe back arch as all of her little girl body became involved in cock-sucking. Her cheeks worked in and out in passionate lick and suck.
Joseph had an idea that it might take an hour or two to jerk the fat man off, and he wondered if he could contain himself that long. But he got a surprise a moment later. He wasn't the only one to be surprised, it seemed. Jake's face turned purple, his wattled cheeks swelling and shiny as an eggplant. His eyes seemed so distended that Joseph sucked in his breath, afraid the old man would have a heart attack. His back arched and his protuberant belly quivered in spasm. Then he sank deep in his chair, collapsing inwardly, as Gale kept up her swallowing and gulping.
She smiled around the shrinking prick as the slippery jism dripped over her pretty mouth. She let it go with a certain reluctance, not forgetting to kiss the flaccid root in a diminishing ecstasy.
Jake shook his head and tried to speak, but the words died on his fat trembling lips.
"Was it okay?" Gale asked anxiously. She did a double-take at the fat man's face, and giggled. "I guess it must have been," she said complacently.
Joseph settled back in the secretary's chair, waiting while the two cleaned themselves up in Jake's private washroom. He picked at the crab Louis and found it unappetizing. It was one thing to be logical and practical beforehand. It was another, he discovered, to see the fruits of his planning.
"He liked it, Mr. Stewart," Gale said a moment later as she walked out of Gingrich's office. "He really did!"
Joseph realized that she expected him to be elated, and tried to rearrange his features to meet her anxious hopes.
"He came right off," she chatted happily as they went to the elevators. "Just like old what's-his-name, you know. The conductor with the tight pants.
"And look - " she continued. "He gave me this card. We're supposed to go see the man, a Mr. Felweiz. He made the appointment already, for tomorrow morning - "
Any relief Joseph felt died immediately. She'd had Gingrich for lunch today, tomorrow she'd have Mel Felweiz for breakfast.
Back in the car, Gale sat close to him, and gently pinched his arm. "What's wrong, Mr. Stewart? Don't you feel well?"
"Yes, yes, of course," he said absently. His mind was still on her growing nymphomania. Knowing he'd begun it all was cold comfort. He still thought of her as his, but his feeling of possession was getting dimmer.
"Are we going back to your studio?" she persisted. "Don't you want to - do it - to me now? Like the last time?"
His hard-on came instantly as her words penetrated his gloom. He did indeed want to do it to her, and he remembered her sprawled on the narrow piano bench, with the sturdy length of his penis shoved into the delicately pouting slit. That had been when she was still innocent, still his alone. It would be nice to recreate that. No matter what else happened, he told himself with renewed cheer, it was great fun to fuck Gale.
He wheeled one-handed off the freeway, his other hand busily at work beneath Gale's brief skirts. She'd left her panties off, he discovered, if indeed she'd worn any. The feel of her soft fringe of hair and her still slickly damp pubes made him smile.
When she saw him smile, her anxious face relaxed and she reached for the front of his trousers. Her little hand wriggled around until it found the zipper tab and released the growing meat underneath it. Driving was difficult but interesting. He was glad to find his own off-ramp and swing onto it.
Once inside the studio, Joseph panted as if he'd just won the Olympic Four Forty. Their clothes flew in every direction. He wouldn't let himself think about anything but her childish body, with its hard little knobs for breasts and its narrow, barely haired loins. She headed for the sofa but he wanted her on the piano bench. He knew that it was impossible to recreate her former state of awkward innocence, but the play was almost as good as the real thing.
Gale didn't protest. Her hand went to his cock and held it lovingly. She still had to brace herself with one small heel on the floor and the other smashing discordant notes from the piano keys. But he felt it was all right because she used her small strong fingers with skill, skinning back the foreskin and teasing the throbbing head.
"Suck's all right," she giggled, "I like it. But fuck's better, isn't it, Mr. Stewart?"
"You want me to fuck you? Honestly?" He needed to hear her say it again.
"Yessss, Oh yes!" Her arms stole around his shoulders while he pressed himself on her slim body.
"It slides right in now," she murmured. "Oh, Mr. Stewart, it feels so good!"
He was breathless as she pried one hand between their panting bodies and guided his cock with experienced adeptness. His hips began the rocking movement that was their usual sweet preliminary when they began to fuck. He jolted forward, shoving his meat in until it was lodged firmly.
Joseph was fucking her silently except for small whispers and groans, when he first heard the noise outside. He thought it was the blood pounding in his ears, but the soprano voice was no part of any sex dream he'd ever had.
"Joseph! Oh, Joseph, let me in! I saw your car, dear, I know you're here!"
The shock made him pop off instantly. He spurted hot sticky cum into Gale's sweet avid cuntal mouth and hung there, immobilized, wondering at odd seconds if he'd locked the studio door.
"What'll we do, Mr. Stewart?" Gale too had orgasmed, but her sense of danger penetrated her jerking ecstasy. "That's Mama out there!"
Joseph had already figured that out. What he hadn't figured out was what he was going to do about it, but he'd been in tight situations before.
Maybe none of them had been quite this tight, however.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Talking was out, over and out, but Grace didn't seem to realize that.
"It certainly did look suspicious, like," she said. She took her own sweet time about unbuttoning her dress.
Joseph was impatient, not necessarily for fucking although he had no real objection to it. And that was fortunate, because it was the only way he knew of to shut Grace Trevor's mouth.
"Hurry up!" he said, "and use your loaf. Would I be this hot for you if I'd been with - somebody else?"
She leisurely unbuttoned another button. What the hell? Every other time they'd fucked she'd all but raped him. If she thought he was going to beg for it, she could think again.
On the other hand, he'd had a hard enough time convincing her that Gale was so overcome by excitement that she fell asleep on the sofa. "And I was just a bit thrilled myself, Grace. After all. Johnny Carson! Merv Griffin! So since your little lamb was sleeping like a - lamb - I went in and took a shower."
Fortunately, Grace was so busy clucking over her daughter and sending her on the way home, that Joseph had a chance to go in and dampen a towel and flick a few drops of water around the tile shower stall.
Grace's problem then was obvious, though capable of solution. She wanted to rush right out and tell everybody, particularly the neighbors and even Charlie, about her daughter's glorious future. Champagne was called for at the least, and a certain amount of modest gloating would be permissible.
On the other hand, she'd come here to the studio to get fucked. Her mind was all set to go queen it over friends, family, acquaintances and close enemies, but her body hadn't gotten the message yet. Joseph knew that for his own safety and comfort, he'd better slow the mind down to the body's hungry speed.
He didn't dare wonder what Gale was thinking, as she twitched her saucy little ass down the street. One problem at a time was enough particularly if the problems were female.
"Let me do that," he said, reaching for the front of her dress, but she smiled coyly and danced away.
"Here we go, darling," she said softly, undoing the last button and shrugging her way out of the dress. Joseph gaped and stared. It was no fake, he reacted because he couldn't help it. Grace was stark naked under her dress. He was amazed all over again at the magnificent display of tits and belly and protruding pubic mound.
His cock began to twitch.
"Hurry up and undress," she said impatiently. "God, it's been so damned long! I'm ready to cum just thinking about it!"
Joseph had no time for reflecting on how many times he'd dressed and undressed in the past hour. His cock acted as if this were the first woman he'd ever seen naked, rising in a delightful hard arch. There was something to be said for adult women, he thought as he put his arms around the warm wriggling body. He managed to hug her and rip off his clothes at the same moment, with Grace's help. He did have a few stray thoughts, wondering if he was ruining his best pair of pants as he threw them tangled on the floor, wondering if he could still keep it up after his recent session of sweet fucking with Gale.
"Hurry up, Joseph! I'm hotter than a two-dollar pistol! When you and Gale didn't come back today, I didn't know what to think." She suddenly stopped her frenzied hugging and twisting. "If I thought for one little minute, Joseph Stewart, that you were - fooling around - with my little girl - "
His heart stood still but he managed a clumsy laugh. "That baby? A woman's what I need, not a - child."
He pushed her hand down on the throbbing hugeness of his prick. "Try that for size," he said.
Grace fell on her knees between his bare thighs and her mouth wrapped itself around his cock. She'd learned a certain skill under his tutelage and she certainly was a worker. Talent must run in the family, he had time to think. Her lips pursed and her throat swelled until the sensitive head lay jerking hard against her soft palate.
She drew her head back slowly, letting her tongue vibrate softly at the underside of his prick. His cock popped out slowly as her pursed lips opened. Joseph felt tremors of sheer ecstasy race up his spine.
Grace ran her lips over her tongue, savoring the after-taste of him. "Ummmm, isn't that heavenly? Oh shit! Damn! Fuck me now, Joseph! Give it to me in the old pooper!"
She was first on the sofa, in her favorite position on her wildly gyrating belly. Her ass thrust itself up to him, the two ivory-bright orbs an open invitation. He hurled himself on top of her, holding her moving hips still while his wet prick nudged its way between her open thighs. She let out a gust of satisfaction and he shoved his way firmly into her cunt, rooting deeper and deeper.
"Do it to me, do it," she pleaded through the saliva that dripped from her slack lips.
Joseph was more than willing to oblige. Inspired by his own erotic thoughts as well as her lustful desires, he hauled back and aimed his hard cock at her bunghole. "Aarrgh!" he muttered deep in his throat and thrust forward with all his might. He heard Grace cry out as if in pain, but he couldn't stop or control the drive of his rigid legs. Four or five inches of his prick went up before he stopped to draw a ragged breath.
He looked down with a certain amount of pride. Her quivering white ass-cheeks threatened to close around the hard width of his prick. He did a hunch that sent it all the way in and could swear he felt her belly button nudging against the head.
Grace was quiet, as if she were holding her breath.
He knew he was going to cum. The thought suddenly struck him that the idea was to make her cum, cum hard and good, so that she'd forget her foolish ideas about him and Gale. He reached around her broad thighs with both hands and found her slick wet clitoris.
"Ooohhh, God!" Grace bucked her hips against him frantically for a moment and then went into furious fantastic orgasm. She shot him straight to climax at the same time.
Their frenzied powerful cums seemed never to end. As they finally faded, Joseph felt peace creep over his soul. One down and one to go, he thought. Now if he could only fuck Gale into perfect faith, he'd have it made.
"This schedule is only tentative, you know," Melheim Felweiz said. "It's all contingent upon your cooperation, Miss Trevor. We'll want to make some changes in you...."
Gale forgot her pouts long enough to look frowningly at Joseph. "What does he mean?"
"Hush, I'll explain later." Joseph realized that words like 'tentative' and 'contingent' were confusing his little girl, but he needed to listen very carefully to instructions.
"We have a splendid entrance planned, simply splendid!" The lean gray man cracked his wide jaw in what Joseph supposed was a smile. "You realize this isn't Tonight, not yet, but Barry Waters has a really hot show. He'll be going network before the year's out, you mark my words. And the setup was his own idea...."
"Yes?" Joseph said encouragingly.
It was an effort but Joseph kept a bland smile on his face. Gale was to appear with a chorus of forty, backed by full orchestra. A troupe of modern dancers would perform as she slowly advanced to the grand piano. "All of them - singers and dancers both, you understand - chosen for height. And Gale herself is to wear flat heels and a little dress like - not a pinafore, you understand, but that sort of look. We haven't quite worked out details of her performance, but - " He turned directly to Gale for the first "time. "Do you sing, my dear? A little dancing, perhaps?"
There was a mixup in appointments, Joseph figured. "Excuse me, Mr. Felweiz. Miss Trevor is a pianist. A concert pianist."
"What's a pinafore?" Gale put in.
"Something to emphasize your youth, my dear," Felweiz beamed. He looked back at Joseph, his smile turning to a more natural expression of pain at the idiots he had to deal with. "So she's a pianist, Stawesky! So if she was a trained bear, still we got to glamorize her, you understand?"
"Glamorize, yes but - " Joseph felt faint. Twenty-five grand for five performances, he reminded himself. "Does Jake Gingrich know about this?"
He was half-aware of Gale sputtering angrily beside him. "Pinafore! That's an apron! An apron for babies and I'm no baby!"
He wondered if it was too late to still collect the Aragon scholarship.
" .. .Gingrich leaves all these details to me," Felweiz said in his smug cold manner. Joseph could feel his fists balling up, could almost hear the cra-ack as that arrogant nose splintered bloodily. " .. .all he asks is a polished performance, something he can be proud of - and make money from. Don't forget, my dear young lady, the woods are full of piano players."
He must have caught the look on Joseph's face.
"Why don't I leave you two here to talk it over?" he said, rising hastily from behind the big desk. "I'll be back in twenty minutes or so." He made a dignified but fast exit from his own office.
Joseph thought fast and hard. It wasn't what he'd set out to do for Gale and for himself. He never meant to create an entertainer, in or out of pinafore. He'd had vague notions of New York concerts, guest appearances with famous symphonies, triumphant European tours. Child prodigies always made a splash .. . and Gale was a genuine child prodigy. If she hadn't been, Aragon would never have considered her in the first place.
On the other hand, fame was fame. And money spent as good when it came from the Tonight Show as it did from the New York Philharmonic. He realized that he should have known, when he called Gingrich and Felweiz, that they'd play it for the big dough - and television was where the money was.
Gale had an obstinate look on her face, the tender little mouth set in an obstinate pout.
"Sing! Dance!" she said. "That's okay if I could do it. But I'll be - I'll be damned, Mr. Stewart, if I'm going to wear a damn old pinafore!"
"Gale!" he said, genuinely shocked. "That language certainly is not becoming. He didn't really mean a pinafore. The whole idea, don't you see, is to emphasize your tininess and your - um, youth. You'll have the final say on the dress, I guarantee it."
"Well... all right then," she said. "If you say so." She hesitated a moment. "Mr. Felweiz isn't very . .. friendly, is he? I mean, doesn't he even want to, uh, fuck me? Or anything?"
"Ssshhh!" Joseph said nervously. Fuck wasn't exactly on his mind at the moment, and he sincerely hoped that Gale wouldn't have to give a piece of her ass to every man who helped her career. On the other hand, Felweiz was definitely important.
"You've got to be more careful," he chided her. "Some people might think you're too young for that and be - shocked."
"Not Mr. Felweiz," she said positively. "Didn't you see the look on his face when he talked about making me look younger? Besides, he had a hard-on when he walked out of here."
Joseph was startled and cast his memory back. Maybe there had been a lecherous light in the gray man's face, he couldn't be sure. But leave it to his little nymphomaniac to see it if it was there! Glumly he realized he'd started all this himself, and he had only himself to blame if Gale was moving out of his reach.
Before he had time to castigate or congratulate himself further, the door opened. "Well, I'm sure you've come to realize the advantages in our program," Felweiz said, rubbing his bony hands together. "Right, Joseph? Right, Gale?"
"As long as I like the dress," Gale said. "Of course, my dear, of course. As a matter of fact, I was so sure of your agreement that I've gone ahead and phoned Wardrobe," he went on blandly. "There's quite a selection waiting for you in the next room. If you'll excuse us for a few minutes, Joseph."
Joseph had time to realize that they'd been promoted to first names, and also that his worst suspicions were about to come true. That gray-haired, lantern-jawed old goat was wasting no time at all, and on such a flimsy excuse as choosing a dress! He may not have known about Gale's sexual tendencies, but he very quickly realized that, like all females, she was fascinated by fashion.
This time he took a better look at Felweiz's groin as he leaned on the desk, smiling his pained smile. Sure enough, that was a bulge lying down the inside of his thigh, a bulge that promised cock on the order of his own proud six to seven inches.
He watched unmoving as his protege tripped happily out the door - a door which Felweiz was kind enough, or cruel enough, to leave a bit ajar. Joseph settled heavily in his chair and sighed. He was damned if he'd be fool enough to watch again, while Gale combined business with somebody else's pleasure.
On the other hand, it might be his duty to look after her, so to speak. He heard her exclaim happily over the dresses ... in between snatches of a song she was humming.
Joseph moved slowly to the doorway.
"You won't know until you try it on, will you, my dear?" Melvin Felweiz was cool on the surface, but Gale could sense the lust burning under his calm manner. She didn't know how she recognized this, but decided she'd figure that out later, in the privacy of her own room. She had a flush of warm feeling herself, that expressed itself in her unconscious humming of her fucksong. She remembered the first time, with Mr. Stewart - she always remembered it at moments like this - and reflected childishly that she'd learned a thing or two since then.
She felt happy because the so-called "pinafore" had turned into her choice of five or six very pretty dresses. They were young-looking, maybe, and she still yearned for more sequins. But she had the sense to know that these experienced men undoubtedly knew what was best for her.
"I really do think I like this one best," she decided. It was white and fluffy lace, with ruffles around the brief hem. "Let me help you, my dear." Mr. Felweiz found the zipper at the back of her blouse with no trouble at all, and he didn't seem the least bit surprised when he pulled the shoulders down to discover she wasn't wearing a bra. Gale arched her back so her small hard breasts would look more womanly and enticing. He didn't seem to mind their size because his big bony hands covered them instantly and his heavy breathing turned into a kind of moan.
"That's a good little girl," Felweiz muttered huskily as he released her tits and fumbled for her skirt zipper. He seemed to be having trouble so Gale obligingly twisted around and opened the fastening for him. Then the skirt dropped to the floor. Gale had skipped wearing panties, too, and she was suddenly naked and awkwardly twisted under his big lustful hands.
"Come over here," he said and half-led, half-pushed her to the couch in the corner of the room.
She looked down and marveled at the contrast between her slim rounded body and his rawboned hairy thighs. He was so tall that his cock pressed against her somewhere in the region of her diaphragm and she had to bend her head downward to get a good look at it. She stared in fascination at the jut of it, more than seven inches of mightily throbbing penis, the head dark red against her white skin.
"Oooooh, Mr. Felweiz! It's so biiiigg!"
She closed her eyes, hoping he knew what he was doing. It didn't seem possible that he'd ever get all that in her diminutive vagina.
"Dear little girl! You're a virgin, aren't you?"
Gale's eyes flew open. She was absolutely sure that she wasn't a virgin but he sounded so desperate about it, as if he might cry if she said no. Before she could think what to answer, he was pressing her down on the couch, his hard weight on her tits and his mouth covering hers avidly.
Gale succumbed to a certain female wisdom she didn't know she had. Men were funny, she had time to think. If they wanted virgins so badly, why did they all set out to un-virginize as many girls as they could do it to.
He wallowed on her body, driving the wind out of her and affectively preventing any answer she might have thought of.
"Sweet little girl," he mouthed in between wet heavy kisses.
Gale quit thinking. She lay very still, frightened by the memory of his huge prick, thinking of the blunt hot column that was probing against her delicate little cunt.
"You like it, don't you, baby girl? You're going to love fucking, you understand?"
The swollen head penetrated her shrinking tissues and suddenly it was all quite familiar to Gale. The prick lunged and charged, and she shifted her slight body to ease the pressure of his weight. The only trouble was that Mr. Felweiz got a little too excited, maybe by the thought that she was an untouched virgin. He'd hardly awakened her slumbering senses when he froze, only convulsively hunching now and then for long moments. Her sensitive nubbin began to swell and throb and she wished he'd fuck her harder like Mr. Stewart always did. She tensed her buttocks and thighs, readying herself to respond to his lunges and rootings, as she'd learned to do. But the quivering turned to spewings and Mr. Felweiz moaned in that incoherent way she associated with a man's cum.
Gale wanted to cry, she was so disappointed. His cock slipped limply out and hot jism bathed her bottom. She felt cheated and her cunt ached without his prick in there screwing and reaming it out.
She opened her mouth to tell him so, and to ask him to please get another hard-on, or maybe to let her suck him off at least. But he spoke first and she was glad she hadn't, miserable as she felt.
"You'll never forget, that, little girl, will you?" he husked. "You can tell anyone, Melvin Felweiz can still get it up and take a girl's cherry!"
Gale gulped and thought, well, there's always Joseph. She turned her head and looked toward the doorway, catching a fleeting glimpse of the music teacher as he vanished from sight.
Yes, there was always Mr. Stewart; he'd started this and she knew he wouldn't complain if he had to finish it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Joseph remembered how high he'd been at the time of the Music Hall concert. He'd been a babe then, innocent without knowing it. The thought of Gale appearing on Barry Water's television program would have seemed like the pinnacle of ambition, a positive first step toward all the glory life could hold.
Unfortunately he'd learned a few things since then. And one of the things he'd learned was that, though Gale might depend on him in her childish way, to everybody else he was as unimportant as tits on a bull. He watched glumly while the program manager, makeup men, cameramen, grips, workmen and Melvin Felweiz hovered around her slim young beauty.
There was no denying that Felweiz knew what he was doing. Gale looked radiant, more beautiful than he'd ever seen her. Her dress and hair style and even her tiny white ballet-type shoes had all been chosen to create an air of young innocence. She looked so like a little angel that he was hard put to remember how he'd fucked her on a piano bench in his dusty studio.
More, she had an indefinable air of assurance about her that chilled him. She was not, contrary to Felweiz's expectations, going to dance or sing; but she already had the look of a personality, a - Joseph grimaced - a star. She was flushed and confident, not nervous enough to suit her former piano teacher.
He cheered himself by remembering that he thought he'd lost her, several times before, when her hot-assed nymphomania took charge, but in the end, she was more his sexually than ever.
"Excited, my dear?" he asked her, sidling up next to her.
"Golly, yes, Mr. Stewart! I was wondering where you were. . . ."
"Yes?" He sensed a need of some kind.
"Remember the last time? When I - Oh gosh, you know! Can I do it like I did before, I mean feel your cock?"
Joy and a kind of ignoble triumph swept over him. With his smile of superiority once more intact, he said, "Sure, honey, if that's what you need." He crowded in closer to her. "We'd better go to your dressing room, it's, uh, kind of public here."
He managed to walk close enough behind her to keep a hand on her firm little ass. Once the door closed behind them, she reached out, as if it were her right, for the instant bulge in his pants leg. He surely would have liked to help her, but he managed to restrain himself. She fumbled with his pants and then his cock flopped out, half erect. She skinned it back and he watched her face, seeing her catch her lower lip in her teeth in fascinated concentration.
It swelled visibly and got hot and throbbing as she took it between her thumb and forefinger. The veins turned blue and the coronal ridge expanded unbelievably. Gale felt electric tingles go through her at the man-odor of it and the feel of the loose foreskin under her fingers.
She shivered and he was reminded of the many delights hidden in her body. He'd liked to have stripped off the white laciness of her dress and fucked her there, at that moment on the dressing room floor, in utter defiance of the elaborate and expensive show about to begin.
When Gale bent to it and opened her pretty mouth - so carefully made up by experts - and gulped at the hot fat head of his cock. She made the little grimace she always made at that moment, as if the taste were new and surprising.
Any hesitancy on her part was gone. Her mouth stretched around the thickness of his prick and she lay her hot wet tongue along the tubed underside, licking and rolling the throbbing column in her mouth. Her hair - so carefully arranged in flowing waves - bobbed up and down with the motion of her head.
Joseph knew he had to be careful not to mess up her dress or make-up or hair, but he forgot it temporarily. He sandwiched her head carefully between his hands and fucked into her face with a mighty and enthusiastic fury. What a talented doll she was! He could feel her tongue on every ridge and crease and then into the friable eye as he was momentarily almost withdrawn.
Some remnant of sense made him remember the television show and he pumped harder, willing himself to cum quickly. When he did, he had the wit to pull back quickly so that the hot thick jism spurted harmlessly to the floor, leaving only a few flecks on the immaculate black of his trousers.
"You're my luck, Mr. Stewart!" Gale said breathlessly as she wiped her damp mouth on the back of her hand.
"Oh, baby, baby!" He marvled at her poise. "Give 'em hell tonight, honey!"
"I sure will," she gulped. "They're calling me now - see you after the show!"
He watched her walk away, his seesawing pride once again at its high point.
"She doesn't need us any more." Grace was wistful, watching her baby shine in the center of a circle of congratulatory males.
"Oh, now," Joseph said wisely, "I wouldn't say that. She needs all of us - at times."
"Yes, I suppose so. But even Charlie has to admit that - " she broke off with a sideways glance. "This has changed our lives as well as hers, you know."
"I suppose so." Joseph wasn't really interested in the problems of the suburban parents, except for hoping that the proud father was ready to let go of his baby's hand. At the moment he was hovering around the edge of the circle, smiling at his radiant darling yet not quite with the group.
"Joseph! Joseph! You're not listening!" Grace tugged at his sleeve. "I've got to talk to you and . . . this may be our only chance."
Joseph was suddenly interested. He wondered what had happened to make this the "only chance" when as far as he knew, Grace was still panting for her 'nooners' in his studio.
"Where can we go that's private?" she urged him.
He smiled sardonically. "There's a dressing room back here that won't be occupied for a while - unless I miss my guess." He led her toward the small cubicle with its mirrored wall and dusty floor, where Gale had so recently sucked him off. It suited his present frame of mind to take Gale's mother there; in fact, he began to think seriously of fucking her there, just in case this truly was the last time.
Gale leaned back against the dressing table. He noticed for the first time that she looked lovely herself, and hardly older than Gale. Her tits joggled as she breathed in deep excitement, and the glossy green of her satin dress did little to conceal them. Her lips were pursed as if ready to be kissed and the light in her eyes told him certain private information about the heat in her cunt.
"Well, Grace?"
"I wanted to tell you - I don't know how to begin, really, it's partly because of you." She hesitated and then went on. "Like I said, Gale is on her way and there isn't much we can do about it. If we wanted to. Even Charlie sees that -"
"And so?"
"We've been - getting together more lately. Charlie and I. I guess being with you showed somehow ... I don't mean he guessed, don't look so worried, but he's been more . . . attentive lately."
"You mean he's fucking you again."
"That's crude! But - well, yes."
"I'm sure that's very nice for both of you, but I don't see - "
"That's not all," she interrupted. "He's been offered a job, a very good job, on the East Coast. He's accepted and we're leaving next week, going to take a little vacation on the way. A sort of second honeymoon."
Joseph remembered vaguely that there'd been times when Grace didn't turn him on. His feeling at the moment was completely different. He was half angry at her for leaving him, and felt a mild but definite resentment of the way she breathed in when she said "Charlie."
"Charlie has a lot of faith in you," she said, doing it again. "If you'll keep an eye on our baby for us - "
Joseph interrupted brutally. "Going to take your dildo on your honeymoon, Grace? Just in case it doesn't all work out?"
He felt very hot. His cock was pushy and insistent inside his trousers and his hands itched for the feel of her flesh.
Grace laughed. "I finally showed it to him. We've been having a ball with it - and with a vibrator he bought."
"Why tell me about it?" He knew it was silly, but he felt hurt.
"Oh, Joseph, don't be like that. Can't we part friends?"
"No - but we can part lovers!" He leaned forward and satisfied his impulse by kissing her, hard and long. It was with no surprise that he realized she wanted to be kissed, that her lips were pursed open and her tongue flipped forward into his mouth.
"Oh, goddamn it! You're doing it to me again, darling!" She didn't sound the least bit sorry and he hugged her tighter, feeling those insistent tits pushing at his starched shirt front.
Her supple body lay against him as if glue had been poured down her dress. "Oh, do it, fuck me one more time," she moaned. "Raise my skirt, give it to me!"
He pushed her forward until her ass met the dressing table chair. Her legs flopped awkwardly and she hiked her skirt up, exposing the white gleam of her thighs bordered by her stockings and crossed by the satiny elastic of her garter belt. He yanked carefully at the green satin, pleased to see that the only thing she wore beneath it was the garter belt. He had the sardonic thought that Grace came prepared for something more than a sentimental goody-bye.
She was a far cry from the narrow adolescent delights of her daughter. The pubic mound stood forth boldly, its curled muff a positive challenge. The rosy lips gleamed invitingly beneath it and Joseph wasted no time unzipping and bringing his thick white meat between the slick damp folds. He put his hands on her shoulders and tipped the chair back against the dressing table. Grace was in imminent peril of losing her balance at any moment, but he kept her pinned in place by his hands and by the pole that quickly impaled her. He risked her balance for a fast moment while he pulled her nyloned legs up over his shoulders and then fucked like mad, rooting up and downward with little thought for her pleasure. But by the way her juices were flowing, and judging from the whimpering sighs from her lips, Grace was more than ecstatic. In spite of her awkward posture, her hips beat steadily up to his.
Passion was concentrated in his surging cock and he felt his orgasm begin to build. He fucked even more furiously, unaware of everything but the delight hovering somewhere just beyond the thrust and retreat of his frantic cock.
For a moment his cum seemed far away as if he'd never make it, and then it blew out of him, catching him by surprise. He grunted and hunched forward, ramming into her as far as he could and felt her orgasm just as his hot jism spurted into her.
"Ohhhh, Joseph," she husked. "Wasn't that good?"
"Something - " he grunted, "to - remember me by!"
His cock flopped out of her wetly and he stood up, easing strained thigh and back muscles. "Sorry we don't have time for an encore," he said jauntily, wiping his semen on a towel.
She sighed deeply and patted her hair in front of the mirror. "Just remember one thing, Joseph Stewart. Don't you dare lay a finger on my baby! And see to it nobody else gets in there, either."
"You worry too much," he said, patting her plump fanny. "Now go on out there and find your Charlie and make him buy you a drink some place. I'll see to it that your chick gets home safely."
"Okay, we will," Grace sighed. "Wasn't she marvelous tonight? Wasn't she a wild success though?"
"And that's only the beginning, like the man said." Joseph had to preen a little in the mirror. He'd made all this happen, and it was good!
"Oh, Mr. Stewart, there you are!" Gale was breathless and shining, full of all the satisfied female vanity. She'd conquered the world and she knew it. "Was I all right? Was I good?"
"You were marvelous and you know it!" He saw the circle of admirers behind her; but she'd turned to him, Joseph Stewart, for confirmation of her success! He turned a complacent eye on all of them, even the handsome Barry Waters who was sure to go network within the year - or so the infallible Felweiz said.
"Mr. Stewart? They're having a party just for me! In Barry's penthouse! Isn't that simply marvelous?"
They had really made it this time, and he could afford to relax a little and let Gale relax too. "That's fine, honey," he beamed, "as long as we don't stay too late. Morning comes early, you know!"
"Oh, yes." She stretched her thin rounded arms. "And I'm going to sleep and sleep and sleep! But right now - I'm going to a party!"
Once in the penthouse, a glass of champagne in his hand, Joseph watched the action with an increasingly jaundiced eye. In a way, Barry Water's attentions were not only a compliment but a sure sign of Gale's success; that young man was too astute to waste his time with a loser, no matter how young and beautiful. But she'd already made it on Barry's show and Gale ought to be smart enough to realize it. Then he scowled, remembering the old maestro after the concert. He tried to be proud of Gale for not only fucking for money or advancement and failed. Why couldn't she be sensible and save herself for someone who mattered?
But there was no getting away from it. The big handsome TV star was bending over, whispering something in Gale's ear that made her giggle. Then he took her arm and led her toward the open French doors to the terrace, where a sickle moon cast only the faintest light. Joseph hurried after them, not sure whether he was going to interfere or not. Hard on Barry's heels, he heard him ask, "What is that tune you're humming, Gale?"
"I forget the name," she said carelessly.
Joseph stopped dead. He hadn't forgotten. "The Eyes Of A Woman In Love," that strangely ascending, lilting tune that Gale unconsciously hummed when she got hot - he couldn't forget that.
He watched unmoving as Gale and Barry headed for the darkest part of the terrace. Think of the ten per cent, he told himself. Think of a brand-new career managing Gale and maybe others, too. If he discovered one star, he could probably put his mind to it and discover others. And meanwhile, he had Gale's ten per cent as well as the entree to all the places where the action was.
Besides which, he still had Gale. He hadn't started her on her nympho career with any idea of exclusive ownership .. . any more than Gale had an exclusive on him.
Whistling more or less cheerfully, Joseph I. Stewart turned to survey the possibilities in the crowded room. A luscious little blonde came up to him and said, "What's that tune you're whistling, Mr. Stewart"
"That? Why that's a very special piece of music, my dear. Come, get another glass of champagne with me and . . . maybe I'll show you what's so special about it."
He figured with a young stud like Barry, Gale would be gone at least an hour. And that should be enough time to set it up, if not to score with the blonde.
