When innocent case worker, Margo Main, investigates a claim, she gets more than she bargains for. Her clients, Susan and Carol, turn out to be linked up with Lola, a socialite on Long Island with a taste for young women.
Lola pays Carol five hundred dollars each for the girls. She toys with them for awhile, submitting them to all kinds of sexual degradation before relegating them to the fourth floor of her mansion.
When Margo discovers the girls, she vows to help Lola's victims escape. How Margo and the leader of the girls, Gladys, turn the tables on Lola and Carol, is a study in perversity itself.
Lola, former mistress of depravity learns at the hands of her captors that the worm turns with a vengeance!
From Long Island, it's on to the mysteries of Malibu Beach and heavens knows how many more willing cunts!
CHAPTER ONE
Investigating welfare requests constituted most of my work as a case worker, and I can tell you it was not an easy job. I traveled throughout New York City, in more bad neighborhoods than good, and I learned how to defend myself from the worst assaults, both physical and verbal.
I took this job right after college two years ago when I first came to New York. I didn't want to sit in an office from nine to five as someone's secretary. I wanted to move, to do something worthwhile, making a contribution towards the betterment of mankind. Well, I guess I made a contribution all right, and I can't say if mankind is any the better for it, but I am!
If you're wondering what I look like, I'm five foot five, black-haired, green eyes, slender and in my early twenties. I don't date too much, not because people don't consider me attractive, but because I'm usually exhausted after climbing tenement stairs all day.
I started keeping a diary because I wanted to share my experiences someday, hopefully with those who had the power to bring about changes in the system. But the experience I'm writing about now only brought about changes within me. The reason I'm writing it down now is because I want to remember all the little details. If I live to be an old woman on welfare myself someday, perhaps it will provide some tangible proof for me that it really happened. If you keep on reading, it may bring back memories of headlines several years ago wherein a wealthy woman on Long Island babbled about lesbian extortionists before being committed to an institution. I was there, and here is my unusual story of how I went from a repressed, idealistic social worker, to a sybaritic, hedonistic swinger, happily in love and living on Malibu beach in California.
The applicant, Susan, was in her late twenties. Blonde, slim, blue-eyed and soft spoken, she answered the door with her blouse opened just enough to reveal that she wasn't wearing a bra.
Probably can't afford one, I thought, making a mental note to myself.
There was an odor in the darkened apartment, a combination of perfume, greasy cooking and, in some odd way, sex. Susan appeared to be alone, but when she backed into the apartment to allow me entrance, I saw a figure on the couch behind her, and a lighted cigarette move in the dark room.
"Come in," Susan said, smiling. "I have nothing to hide from Carol."
I held my clipboard in front of my chest self-consciously.
"Could we have more light?" I asked.
"Sure," she laughed, turning on a tiny tensor lamp near the couch.
Her friend, Carol, looked at me with interest. She was the tallest woman I had ever seen, even lying down. Her lank frame easily stretched the entire distance of the six foot couch.
Her short black hair was mussed, but obviously when combed, she wore it in a DA right out of the fifties. Her features were sharp and her face was bare of makeup. There was no doubt in my mind that she was extremely handsome and powerfully built.
"Now Susan," I began, "You stated on your application that your husband ran off and left you and your daughter without any support?"
Susan's mouth tightened into a hard line.
"Yes," she spat, her voice no longer soft and child-like, "The bastard split without leaving me shit."
Despite the fact that I heard language like this all the time, I still inwardly flinched.
"When exactly did this happen?" I continued.
"That fuck took off months ago."
"And you waited this long to apply for assistance?" I asked incredulously.
"I thought he would come back," Susan said dully.
"I see," I said pointedly, making a notation in my little black book.
"You see?" Carol suddenly sneered, sitting up on the couch abruptly.
My heart skipped a beat, but outwardly I tried to remain calm. I gave a little cough and cleared my throat.
"What I mean," I stammered, "Is that I understand."
"I don't think you understand shit!" Carol shouted.
She was standing now, her arms crossing her chest. All I could think of was my father and how he looked when he was angry. Foolishly I felt like a little girl again. While I stared up at Carol, Susan went over to the front door and slid the police lock into place.
"You're a college graduate, aren't you?" Carol demanded.
"Yes," I replied meekly, feeling for all the world like I had never made it out of kindergarten.
"Well, I think you need another tucking education," Carol said.
Oh God, I thought. What are they going to do to me? When I thought of all the close encounters I had had with drug addicts, belligerent fathers, prostitute mothers, they all paled in comparison to what I felt sitting on this stool with the stuffing falling out of it, in front of this large, angry, and incredibly masculine woman.
The room filled with a tense silence while Susan went to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of wine.
"Want some?" she asked Carol, extending the bottle towards her.
Carol seemed to relax. She raised her fine brows teasingly and chuckled. I saw her strong white teeth and thought what a fantastic looking man she would have been if only nature had not reversed its cruel decision on her body. Or, if she had the money to undergo a sex-change operation.
"Get a glass for the social worker," she said to Susan.
"No," I protested in a low voice. "We're not supposed to drink on the job."
"Why not?" Carol asked in a rich, slow voice. "You're not in a hurry, are you?" The last remark wasn't even a question.
That's it, I thought. I'm not getting out of this one until they're ready to let me go. And what kind of condition would I be in when they finally decided to throw my broken body back on the sidewalk? I thought stupidly how if they didn't let me go soon, my cat would miss her dinner and that I had forgotten to water the plants that morning.
I felt at their mercy, and I wanted them to be kind to me. Me, who was always trying to be kind!
Well, at least I wasn't the kind of social worker who always made her clients grovel to get assistance. At least I didn't think I was. In fact, the questions I asked were standard. It wasn't that I was trying to pry.
Susan placed a glass of wine on the coffee table in front of the stool where I sat.
"Drink," Carol commanded.
I brought the glass to my lips and sipped. It was surprisingly good. I wondered where they got the money to buy it, but didn't ask. No one had to convince me that poor people shouldn't be allowed to have some pleasure in their miserable lives, even if it was usually sex and alcohol. The alcohol part I was beginning to get involved with myself anyway, lately. Sex I hadn't had in a long time and the wine I drank every night after work gave me a nice feeling of warmth and relaxation.
Like sex, I realized, but without the involvement and hassles.
Feeling more mellow, I watched as Carol rolled a joint with her long fingers. She lit it then passed it to Susan. Susan took a long drag and brought it over to me.
What the hell, I thought recklessly. I took a long pull on the acrid smoke. Two more drags and the room seem to take on another dimension. It grew larger, the colors seemed richer, the fabric on the furniture seem to take on a purpose.
Then Susan got off the couch and put a record on. It was an Erroll Garner album, dreamy and warm.
As the music filled the room, and as the wine hit my frontal lobes, suddenly my dress felt constricting. I wanted to change into something else or take it off completely. But how to do this here? I squirmed uncomfortably.
I knew I was behaving unprofessionally. But I felt completely out of control. Felt my will power even to leave the apartment escape me. Felt another person within the very depths of my being begin to grow, trying to get out.
"You like being a social worker?" Carol asked suddenly.
I didn't answer right away. Actually, I had to think about it. Did I? I wasn't sure.
Suddenly I realized that these two women seemed much smarter than I was. At least to me. They seemed much wiser, more complete and confident. I tried to analyze why and concluded that they had beaten the system. They didn't need jobs and husbands. They had each other and welfare! There was no doubt in my mind that I would really approve their application, that is, if I ever got out of here. The thought gave me solace. Naturally they would let me go! How else would they get their welfare checks? I wondered briefly where the little girl was.
"And the daughter," I asked, "is she here?"
"You haven't answered our questions," Carol said angrily. "You social workers are all alike. Answer a question with another question."
"Not yet," Susan replied, answering my question from her own train of thought. "She gets home from school around three-thirty."
"What time is it now?" Carol asked.
I glanced at my watch. It was two-thirty and I was getting hungry. I couldn't leave without their permission and I couldn't grant them welfare without confirming the existence of the daughter. I began to relax.
"I think I'll have another glass of wine," I said boldly. "If it's all right with you."
"Getting to like it here, huh?" Carol asked. "That's good."
"I have to confirm the existence of the daughter," I said, reverting back to my social worker voice.
"You have to stay," Carol mimicked. "Until we confirm the existence of you!" And she laughed loudly.
"Why don't you sit over here?" Susan asked, patting a spot next to her on the couch.
I felt the blood rushing to my cheeks, felt my voice stammer, actually felt in some peculiar way a desire to sit on the couch between them and lose myself in this warm, dark underworld of flickering tongues and time. All the time in the world to do nothing but caress and be caressed. A warm contraction between my thighs and a shortness of breath caught me by surprise as I tried to keep my voice steady.
"Are you two lovers?"
Both laughed and I knew it was a dumb question. It was obvious in the possessive way Carol sat next to Susan, her arm draped casually over her shoulder, her fingers absently playing with her breast.
"We're not exactly enemies," Carol roared.
For God's sake, I thought. Don't tell me I'm going to have to sit here and watch these two fondle each other for another hour until the daughter gets home!
"Have you ever made it with a chick?" Susan asked.
"No," I answered quietly, feeling as though something was wrong or inadequate with me.
Feeling as though I was condemning something without even knowing what it was. Remembering back a few years to that one roommate I had in college that everyone said was a lesbian. But she had never made a pass at me! But other friends had pressured me to move out, because it would be bad for my reputation. And, of course, me being so concerned about my so-called reputation, had moved out and never got to really know her at all.
Carol took her hand away from Susan's right breast and stood up. Again her tall frame both frightened and excited me. She disappeared into another room. When she came back she held a length of rope.
"You know what I'd like to do to you?" she asked curiously.
That's it, I said to myself. They're going to hang me.
"If you hang me," I said aloud. "How will you get your welfare checks?"
Their loud laughter was almost contagious.
"You are TOO much!" Susan squealed in delight.
Carol sat back down on the couch and twirled the rope between her parted legs like a cowboy.
"Do you think we want to hurt you?" Carol asked slowly.
"I don't know what you want to do," I said in a rush. "Why don't you let me go and I'll come back next week?"
"Because," Carol said deliberately, "This is Friday night and we've got a long weekend in front of us and we don't have too much bread for amusement. So we'll just have to improvise our own entertainment."
"What am I supposed to be," I asked, feeling the anger rise in my throat, yet trying to sound supplicating at the same time, "Your amusement park?"
"Very smart," Carol said, standing again "But did it ever occur to you. Miss Prim and Proper, that you might DIG IT? Huh? Huh?" and she grabbed both my arms behind my back and quickly knotted them. The rope cut into my wrists and I let out a small cry.
"Don't hurt her," Susan warned. "Lola doesn't like any marks."
Who the hell was Lola, I wondered. Her daughter?
"I'd tie your legs together," Carol said slyly. "But it's better when you spread them."
I'm getting raped, I thought incredulously! Not by all the stereotypical characters I thought would someday do me in, but by two women! How on earth could you prove you were raped by a woman? I wondered wildly. Unless they took a broom handle and rammed it up inside me there wouldn't be any damage done and certainly no trace of semen.
Effortlessly, Carol lifted me up in her arms like a small child and sat me down on the couch between them. Susan reached behind my back and slowly undid the zipper on the back of my social-worker proper knit dress. The dress moved away from my body in soft folds and fell at my waist in a warm bundle. I looked down at my silly bra, but with a deft snap, Carol removed it.
Oh! Oh! brother, I thought. If my supervisor, Sam Ratner, could see me now. Sitting half-naked between two women in a darkened apartment listening to music after smoking grass and drinking wine.
I felt subdued now, like a child between its parents. Susan watched Carol touch me with enjoyment. No jealousy marred her features, only a small smile split the mask-like beauty of her face.
Just then Carol's left arm went completely around my shoulder as she pulled me down alongside her long frame. I turned my face towards the back of the couch, but her face, with smooth insistence, forced me to face her. Her lips parted and, as her hand went to the back of my head, she forced her tongue into my mouth and began exploring it. Around and round her tongue went while I felt her breathing increase with little gusts on my face.
Her hands began in great grasps to race up and down my body, squeezing, smoothing, grabbing, bruising me with a pleasure I felt uncontrollably welling throughout my entire being. While her own body began to move in rhythmic ups and downs as her pelvis pushed in and out against my thighs, I felt something pulling at the rest of my dress, stockings and panties. It was difficult, because my hands were still tied behind my back.
And then, Susan undid the rope. My hands were free now. Free to scratch, punch and try to help me escape. Instead, they reached up and around Carol, pulling her head towards my breasts. Susan quickly removed the rest of my clothes and threw them across the room. Then she was on her knees parting my trembling thighs and murmuring with pleasure at the sight of my parted cunt lips, moist with anticipation and reaching towards her. While Carol mashed my tits gently round and round and sucked them with sweet slurps, I felt Susan's tongue part the crevice of my cunt and lick my clitoris.
She didn't nibble at it like so many people do who really don't enjoy giving head. She took the cheeks of my ass in each hand and buried her head in my crotch, parted the slit with her nose and with great lapping sounds, worked her tongue up and down, around and round, sucking and kissing and sniffing and loving every inch of it. Then she placed her hands on the back of my thighs and pushed my legs almost over my head as she then licked my asshole and stuck her tongue as high up inside as she could.
Meanwhile, Carol bent over and began licking my clit. I thought I would go crazy. I clawed at the air and wiggled my feet and moved and pumped my cunt. Wanting to scream, but not daring, I suddenly had this burning desire to eat cunt also. I grabbed at Susan's ass, and turning my body around, I was able to rip her jeans off and nose into that sweet-smelling odor that was so much like my own.
I brought my mouth to its wet hairs and quickly started licking everything I could reach.
While Carol kept on my clit and Susan on my asshole and me in Susan's cunt, I began to feel that rush that begins at the back of my head and toes at the same time and meets between my legs.
With a sudden sharp cry, we all started coming together. Our bodies writhing and slippery from sweat and joy as the funky smell of come filled out nostrils and all our senses.
A sweet dreamlike feeling overtook me and I felt myself drifting off... drifting off.
When I woke I was no longer on the couch, but in a little bedroom behind a curtain. Like a flash everything that had happened earlier in the afternoon came graphically back to me.
How could you, I accused myself. What are you anyway, a closet lesbian? Well, sweetheart, I said to myself, you really are strange.
Wait a minute, another voice said to me. Why should you feel badly about having a good time? You've been good all your life. Be bad for a change!
Don't! another voice said. But my thoughts and misgivings were interrupted by the quiet voices and music in the next room. My body felt warm with satisfaction and aching pleasure, causing me to squirm contentedly on the clean sheets. I wondered what they had in mind for me now.
Would they let me go home? Not necessarily. I remembered what Carol had said about not having any money for entertainment for the weekend. I was just an experimental toy for them. Maybe I could give them money to go out. I wondered what they did for entertainment. Somehow or other I couldn't really envision them being content to go to the movies. I tried to remember how much cash I had with me. I didn't think I had more than five dollars, but had no way to check this out as my purse and clipboard were in the other room. I wondered if they would take a check but then realized it would be hard to cash one now. It was Friday night and already dark.
To my surprise, I felt a small smooth leg push against mine. I rolled over quickly and looked into the clear blue eyes of a girl no older than twelve. Her blonde hair told me instantly that this was Susan's daughter. I raised myself on one elbow and looked down cm her smiling, innocent face.
"Hi," she said happily. "Mother says you're our new friend!"
"I guess I am," I laughed, happy to be face to face with at least one person who bore some semblance of normalcy.
She took her small hand and put it on my arm gently.
"I'm glad," she said.
I wondered what it must have been like for this young beautiful girl to grow up in a household in which the father split, abandoning both her and her mother. Then, to see her mother obviously attached to another woman who was more manly than her own father.
I studied her face closely; if the experience had left any scars, it wasn't obvious. The child seemed well-nourished and her smooth smiling face was absent of the dark-ringed hollow-eyed look most sobbing children I was used to dealing with from other broken homes, worn like a badge of abuse.
Not feeling any immediate desire to return to the room of my captives, and feeling that perhaps I could pump the child for information, I continued to lay relaxed in the bed, feeling her tiny toes moving back and forth against my calves with that nervous kind of movement all children make when they are happy over some new event in their lives.
"Does your mother have a lot of friends?" I asked.
"Oh yes," she breathed. "We have different Maids almost every weekend. By the way," she added brightly, "my name is Samantha, what's yours?"
"Margo," I answered, eager to steer the conversation away from me and back to her.
"How long has Carol been your friend?" I asked Samantha.
"Oh, Carol's been our friend every since I was born!" she replied. "I can never remember when Carol wasn't around."
Now came the really touchy question. I drew in a sharp breath. Trying to keep my voice calm, I inquired: "How about your father? Is he coming home tonight?"
"Oh now," she replied, obviously not hurt in any way by the question. "He never comes home. I've never seen him. But Mommy has a picture of him. He's cute!"
I'll bet, I thought to myself.
"I like you," Samantha said suddenly. "You ask me questions. Most of Mommy's friends just like to play with me."
"Don't you like to play?" I asked. I envisioned Susan's friends taking time out to make the child happy, reading her stories, etc.
"Oh, I love to play," she replied, "but I like to talk too."
Just then she reached up with both arms and pulled me down to her.
I smelled her sweet young scent on her neck, free of tobacco and alcohol, and shut my eyes.
What a sweet child, I thought absently.
But then her young, naked body squirmed next to me and with some shock I felt two hard little bumps. As she fitted herself beneath me, I raised myself on both elbows to look at all of her. The sheet rose with my body like a pup tent enclosing us both.
Her pubic area had just a little scattering of soft, fine, blond hairs. It gave her such a virginal look, that I was instantly and insanely aroused. While I stared with increasing hunger at her, she brought my mouth down to hers with a surprisingly strong pull on the back of my head. With quick little baby kisses and nips, she covered my face and grabbed one of my breasts in her hands, squeezing it in and out.
"I want you to eat me," she said, happily moving her hips up and down and spreading her legs in and out with an impatient scissor-like motion.
"I want you to lick my cunt," she whispered again, her blue eyes twinkling.
"Eat me, eat me," she begged.
I was filled with wonder and desire that almost crippled me. I wanted to swallow her whole, have her squeeze her little legs around my head, sniff out her cunt, devour her.
She inched down in the bed about a foot and took my left breast in her mouth. I sat up and cradled her as she suckled me, gently plucking at my other breast until I pushed her head towards that one.
While she licked and kissed my swollen tits, I brought my right hand between her legs and fingered her small cunt gently with my middle finger. I felt her tiny clit expend as it filled with blood and the heat increase as it moistened.
Not being able to stand, yet wanting to know how her young pussy would taste, I moved quickly to kneel in front of her and separate her slim thighs.
CHAPTER TWO
With a little cry, I thrust my tongue into her fresh cunt, sucking madly, while she grasped my hair in both hands and played with my ears. She steered me this way and that, squealing all the while her delight and excitement.
"Oh! Lick it! I love it! Kiss it, kiss it!"
Finally, with a little shudder, her thighs clamped around my head and her body gave one last convulsive shudder before she collapsed on her side.
She drew her knees up to her chest and with a contented sigh, drifted off to sleep.
I got up quietly, and found my way to the bathroom where I took a long, hot shower. I felt like a gross monster. An unspeakable pervert. The harder I scrubbed the more I was reminded of Lady Macbeth and guilt.
What good does it do to scrub your body, a voice inside me asked. You'll never be able to wash out your soul for that heinous act!
Not so, another voice said. Obviously the child gets that kind of attention all the time. It's human what I just did. It's part of the broad spectrum of human sexuality.
I continued to argue with myself even as I dried off and dressed. Deciding to go into the other room to find out what the weekend held in store, I tentatively opened the curtain leading to the living room.
Susan and Carol were still sitting on the couch. Only now they were talking to a large black man. He flashed a wide grin at me when Susan completed the introductions.
"Well," Susan said. "I assume you met our little Samantha?"
"Yes," I admitted. "She sure is advanced for her age."
Bill, the black man, laughed.
"She's had some good teachers!" he boomed.
"You're not so bad yourself, Bill," Susan replied.
"But that Samantha," Bill said. "She sure is some sweet cunt! I could go down on that little fox all day."
"And you have!" Carol said dryly."
"I don't know which gives me more pleasure," Susan said to Bill. "Watching you eat Samantha or seeing her trying to fit your big, black cock into her mouth."
This is it, I thought. I had not only wandered into the most depraved household in New York, I was as bad as them. In fact, with all the talk about Bill's big black cock, I was curious to see it myself.
You better get your head together, I said to myself. Ask if you can leave now. You've confirmed the existence of the daughter. You know you'll approve their request. Get out of here before you do things you'll never forgive yourself for doing. Things that will scar your psyche for the rest of your life.
Aloud I said: "May I have another glass of wine?"
"Sure, honey," Susan said. "Here," she added, pushing a tray of sandwiches at me. "Eat!"
The atmosphere sure has changed, I thought to myself. I felt if I asked them permission to leave now they wouldn't try to stop me.
They're like friends now, offering me food and drink. But I was afraid to come right out and ask to leave.
Instead, I took a sandwich. I was really hungry. The day was shot to hell. It was eight-thirty. Maybe I should wait for them to tell me to leave. Maybe it would only anger them if I brought it up. I couldn't complain about their treatment of me. They hadn't tortured or beaten me. If they wanted me to spend the weekend with them, maybe I could learn a lot about their sub-culture. Maybe I could write a doctoral dissertation on it, if I ever got back to graduate school.
Bullshit! another voice inside me said. You don't even have the balls to ask if you can leave. Even with Bill here. He seems like a nice enough fellow.
But he's their friend, I protested. Maybe you're afraid to leave because you really want to stay, the other voice suggested. Maybe you're just like them!
"Well," Bill said, getting up from the couch and placing his empty wine glass carefully down on the coffee table. "I'm off. See you all later at the club tonight." He winked at me.
After he left, I asked Susan about the club.
"It's a gay club,.' Carol said. "Have you ever been to one?.' "No," I confessed.
"There's a first time for everything," Susan said sarcastically.
Within an hour, I found myself sitting alone at a table in a room full of women, noise and smoke. I mulled over what Carol had said to me as we waited for a taxi to take us to the club.
"Don't try to split," she had warned.
"Oh, I wouldn't!" I protested.
"I don't think you will either," Carol said. "We're not going to this club for entertainment.
We work there. For Bill."
"I know this sounds crazy," I said to Carol, "but I'm worried about my cat. Could I make a phone call?"
She reluctantly agreed and stood right by my side as I called my landlady and asked her to feed my cat and water the plants as I had been called out of town for the weekend.
"Sam's been calling you all night," my landlady said petulantly. "What shall I tell him?"
"Tell him I'll talk to him Monday," I instructed.
Sam was my supervisor. I knew he liked me, but I had always found him a little too intense. It wasn't like him to call continuously. I wondered what he wanted. Maybe if I could get away from the girls at some point in the evening, I could call him and find out.
I looked around the clubroom. A little stage was at one end with about fifty tiny tables and one hundred chairs filling the rest of the room. A lone drummer sat just off the stage. The entire room was filled with women, making me feel as though I was on another planet. I was sitting at a table that Carol had instructed me to sit at, and I was told not to talk to anyone.
A Spanish waitress came over and asked what I wanted to drink. I ordered a double scotch on the rocks, knowing I would have a hard time getting her attention later. While waiting for my drink I looked around.
Then my eyes stopped on something I just couldn't believe. One of the top female stars in Hollywood was sitting just a few tables away from me with her black lady lover. Granted she was getting on in years, but when I remembered how she used to make me cry in horse movies when I was growing up, I just couldn't help it, I was shocked.
It must be her, I thought. The blonde woman had a real mink coat draped over the back of her chair, a Gucci purse on the table and a neck encircled by so many diamonds they sparkled all around the room.
Well, we all have to grow up sometime, I thought bitterly. I shouldn't resent her being here, though. It really brings us closer together.
Another glance around the room brought me no more celebrities, but certainly an interesting-looking, well-dressed crowd.
My thoughts were interrupted by a slow drum roll from the stage. The lights lowered and a spotlight sought out the stage.
Bill bounced out from behind the curtain with a dazzling smile.
"Welcome Ladies!" he boomed. "Tonight the Pussy Cat Club is proud to present, once again, the Amazing Amazon and her whip dance!"
Another drum roll and this time the curtains parted to reveal Carol who was standing in all her six foot four inch naked glory. A snake was wound around her body. A murmur of disbelief ran through the crowd.
Carol, who looked so masculine in clothes, looked absolutely feminine, nude. She was wearing an elaborate head dress, complete with rhinestones that glittered. It made it impossible to tell that normally she wore her hair in a DA.
Slowly moving around the stage, fondling the writhing snake, running her long fingers up and down its scaly hide, she kept time with the beat of the drum. It was one of the most bizarre dances I had even seen.
"I guess that's suppose to symbolize Eve and the serpent," I heard a woman at the next table whisper.
Another drum roll, and suddenly Susan was on the stage. She was entirely nude. She knelt in front of the dancing Carol as though supplicating for something. The drumming became more frantic as Carol untwined the snake from her body and started whipping Susan with it.
Susan shrank at every blow as the scaly reptile struck her white, young flesh. Harder and harder Carol slashed at her with the snake. Even from where I sat I could see the ugly red welts raised on Susan's body. I was even beginning to wonder if that snake was still alive after all this punishment. Then something happened on the stage that was so weird and dreamlike, I wondered if I was awake or having a nightmare. Susan was lying down on her back, her legs spread wide apart. The snake inched closer and closer to her cunt.
Don't tell me she's going to take that snake up her cunt, I almost yelled aloud. But the snake was doing its own dance now. Weaving its head from side to side and flicking its forked tongue out, it slowly made its way between Susan's thighs.
At this point there was a loud angry burst of noise and much slamming of chairs around as at least fifteen cops blasted into the room and yelled: "Don't anybody move. You're all under arrest!"
Oh my God, I thought. I could see it now: "NEW YORK CITY WELFARE CASEWORKER CAUGHT IN HARLEM PERVERT CLUB!" What would my parents think? The kids I graduated from college with? My co-workers? I felt sweat popping out on my forehead and a nervous chill seize my legs. Just then a strong arm grabbed me and said: "Hang on!"
Without warning, the floor under my special table opened up. Chair and all, we fell through. We landed on a mattress in the basement. The strong arm had belonged to Bill. I saw Susan and Carol dressing quickly.
"Hurry," Bill commanded. He led us out of the basement into an alley. We could see the patrol cars with their circling lights on the other side of the building, casting red and yellow glows on the ugly brick buildings. Bill unlocked the door to his T-Bird and we sped away down a side street.
"Boy, that's the closest call we've had yet!" Bill exclaimed.
"Did you bring the cash?" Susan asked. Her voice was sharp.
"Right here, sweetie," Bill said, patting his breast pocket.
"Where are we going now?" Susan asked. I was glad she did. I wanted to know myself, but was afraid to speak.
"To Mama's," Bill said, as we crossed the bridge to Queens.
Boy, if ever I saw a big black Mama, that was Bill's mother. She had one of those smooth luminescent faces that seemed ageless and the most beautiful set of white perfect teeth I had ever seen. She had her hair pulled back into a tight bun and was wearing a man's shirt and pants. In her left hand, she held a joint.
"Why Bill, honey!" she boomed in a loud jovial voice. "Whatever are you doing home from work so early?"
"Hi, Mama," Bill said. He kissed her on her plump cheek. "We got raided so I decided to split here in case The Man checks out my place."
"Come git in and make yourselves at home," she said with delight.
"You girls want a drink?" Bill asked, going behind the bar in the comfortably furnished living room.
We all said yes. By the time Bill's Mother finished busying up in the kitchen, he had made our drinks.
"Mama," Bill said. "I want you to meet our new friend. Believe it or not, she's Susan's case worker!"
Mama laughed. "Another one! My my! Just call me Thelma, honey. These days I can believe just about anything!"
I wondered about Thelma's remark concerning the number of case workers Susan had had. I'd have to check on that Monday, I thought, making a mental note to myself.
Aloud I thanked Thelma I tried to figure out how old she was. It was difficult. She looked very young, but Bill was at least thirty. So unless Thelma had Bill when she was fourteen, I guessed her to be about fifty.
In the corner of the large living room was a baby-grand piano. Thelma took her drink to the piano and sat down on the stool.
Ripping off some dynamite jazz chords, she soon had Bill on his feet, dancing slowly to the music, glass in hand.
The blue smoke from the ever present joint she always had with her curled up from Thelma's lips into the still air. It hung over the green plants before slowly drifting in time with the music. While we were all separately lost in our dreamy reverie, the apartment door opened and a young black boy around eighteen walked in. He took the situation in at a glance then disappeared down the hallway.
I wondered who HE was! In this shadowy nether world, people were always moving in and out, as though in a dream.
Maybe it's the grass I thought, that gives everything a druglike quality of unreality. The drugs and the alcohol that blur the sharp edges off a harsh life. Well, whoever he was, I hoped he would come back to the living room. He was handsome enough to be a model.
"That's Bill's brother, Tim," Susan whispered to me as though reading my thoughts.
The three of us sat on the couch, gently touching each other. I felt as though I had known these two women all my life. Yet it was a scant twelve hours when first I walked into their lives. Feeling content, I let my eyes close softly when a form moved past them and I found my eyes flying wide open again. Having seen so many different scenes today, I didn't want to miss anything new. I wanted to shed my middle-class upbringing and fully enjoy all my senses for the first time. In fact, I even felt sure that Bill might give me a job in his club, if I asked him.
Maybe I could escape my lonely, trying-to-be-good, boring life and join these people. But then again, maybe I would be a better help if I continued as a social worker, bringing them money so that they could continue living the life they seem to enjoy so much. I didn't know. It was confusing to me. Maybe they didn't like their life. Maybe they were only doing it because they had no other choice. But I didn't have much time for anymore philosophical ruminatings because I wanted to watch Carol and Bill dancing with each other.
Thelma played the music for them, and I didn't know whether it was the grass, the drink or what. All I knew was that I had never heard such fantastic chords before in my life. Then Bill's brother came back into the room.
Tim was really a gorgeous kid. His skin was the color of a rich woman's polo coat. His eyes were light green and his nose was short and slightly upturned. His hair was also short on his well-shaped head and his shoulders, though not broad, were certainly a lot wider than his slim hips. He was just about six feet tall with beautiful hands and short clean nails. He wore a navy blue V-necked sweater and gray flannel slacks. On his feet were hush puppies.
Bill's arms slipped down from Carol's shoulders to her buttocks where they alternately squeezed one, then the other. Bill's eyes started to close and it wasn't difficult to see his prick under his slacks, growing hard and impatient against the constriction of the fabric.
Carol slowly brought one hand around from Bill's tight ass and began to cup his balls, squeezing gently while Bill moved back a little to allow Carol's hand more freedom.
I watched fascinated as Carol took Bill's zipper between her thumb and forefinger and expertly unzipped Bill's pants. Her hand then disappeared inside, lost in the fine maze of hair that sheltered Bill's balls.
Bill stopped dancing then, though he continued to sway back and forth on his feet. He then undid his belt buckle as Carol knelt before him. Carol reached up and pulled Bill's jockey shorts down around his knees. Without missing a beat, Bill stepped out of his shorts. An involuntary gasp escaped my lips as I stared in astonishment at the hugest, proudest, most beautiful prick I had ever seen in my entire life.
From the base to the tip which glistened moistly, it must have measured a full foot! I had never read anything like this in the annals of human physiology and had I not seen confirmation of this wild guess by Carol taking both her hands and spreading her fingers as wide as she could. Bill's cock still exceeded her grasp. I quickly figured that it was almost two octaves long and, had it possessed ten fingers, Bill's cock would have easily been the greatest concert penis in the world!
I snuck a quick glance at Thelma to see her reaction, but she was lost in her music and her grass, a happy smile playing about her lips.
Speaking of lips, I quickly swung my attention back to Carol and Bill. Carol was now working both her hands on Bill's enormous throbbing tool while her lips took one of Bill's balls in her mouth and tongued it around. Making a loud sucking noise, I was aware that the only sounds in the world right now were the music, and the heavy breathing of Susan, Tim, and myself.
Carol then switched to the next ball and tongued that gently for awhile before stuffing both of them into her cheeks. Her face bulged with the strain and effort of containing these two huge orbits. God, I thought, with a pair of balls like that, I could rise to the top of the entire bureaucratic structure that was the Welfare System in New York.
Carol's jaws must have started aching for she released the balls one at a time and moved her large lips down the shaft of Bill's enormous cock. It seemed as though this feat alone would take an hour, but Carol, working quickly, made it in just under ten minutes flat.
She then concentrated on the tip which was as broad as my palm. She strained and strained to take all of the cock into her mouth, but this was physically impossible. I wanted to run over and help her but was afraid I would be rejected.
Then I realized that after all I had been through today, there was nothing I could do to offend anyone. I had found a world where everything was offensive. And it wasn't too far from my apartment.
Flushed with happiness, I got off the couch and approached Carol and Bill. Carol saw me coming and beckoned me to hurry. While she worked the lower end of the hard cock, I concentrated on the front end. It tasted salty and the heat was such that I thought my gold fillings might melt. But I grasped my half between my thumb and forefinger and jerked it quickly back and forth into my mouth while Carol contented herself working it corn on the cob fashion from the side.
Lost in my building excitement, I didn't notice that the music had stopped until I felt my panties slip away and a big fat tongue flick up into my cunt. Quickly glancing down between my legs I saw Thelma, lying on her back, tonguing me while her hands supported the rumps of my partners above me. This excited me even further and as I furiously sucked and pumped the member in my mouth, I snuck a quick glance towards the couch where I saw Susan and Tim getting it on.
All of a sudden, Bill's cock froze, took a huge shudder, and, as I heard a loud wailing cry, heard also a deep rumbling like an ocean tidal wave, as suddenly he came like a huge splash of surf that broke rocks into sand. I felt I was drowning as the hot fluid shot into my mouth like molten lava and knocked me across the living room in a sea of come.
I staggered to the bathroom and peered at myself in the mirror. I couldn't believe it. My hair was completely white!
Boy, I'm aging fast, I thought. Then I realized the sticky substance was Bill's come. I quickly showered and returned to the living room where Bill was lying exhausted on the floor, his limp member still a good six inches. Meanwhile Thelma was finishing off Tim who came shortly afterwards, much to the pleasure of his mother.
Feeling exhausted myself, I asked Thelma where I could sleep. She indicated that I could share her double bed which she would join later.
My head full of the day's experiences and my body content and spent, I soon drifted off to the sounds of Thelma playing "God Bless the Child that's Got His Own."
The next morning when I woke I heard the sound of rain. Glancing towards the window, I saw it beating on the pane, cold and grey. I snuggled deeper under the warm covers. This was the kind of day to spend in bed.
Suddenly I smelled bacon, eggs, sausage, pancakes and I realized how hungry I was. I also smelled wood burning and heard the crackle of a fire. But the best thing I smelled was fresh coffee.
Some thoughtful person had placed a steaming cup on the night table and not too long ago. The huge bed was empty and I wondered if Thelma had even slept here last night. I sipped my coffee and looked around. It was really a nice apartment. The rooms were large and well-furnished. Bill does real well at the club, I decided. But I wondered what he would do now after last night's raid.
After dressing, I went into the living room to see what Carol and Susan were doing, but they were gone. Maybe they're still sleeping, I thought. But when I looked at my watch and saw that it was eleven thirty, I doubted that.
I started making a tour of the apartment's three bedrooms. All empty. But Thelma was out in the kitchen and it was her cooking that I smelled.
"Sit down, honey," she ordered cheerfully. "Have some breakfast."
I didn't have to be asked twice. Within eight minutes I polished off orange juice, two eggs, bacon, three pancakes, toast and coffee.
"My my!" Thelma marveled. "You sure eat good for such a tiny thing."
Then she sat down and proceeded to consume one quart of orange juice, one dozen eggs, a package of bacon, twelve pancakes, a loaf of toast and a pot of coffee!
I wanted to say that she sure ate a lot for a big person, but I thought that would be rude, so I said nothing, even when she let out a huge belch and a deafening fart. When the air had cleared and we were doing dishes, I asked where everyone had gone.
"To church, honey," she replied calmly. "But we thought you'd like to sleep."
My mouth must have gaped open with shock which she obviously mistook for alarm, for she said: "They'll be back in a bit. Why don't you go into the living room and read for awhile?"
I wanted to get out of there. I wanted to get out of these clothes. I wanted to get back to my small apartment, my job, my ordered life. But how?
"All right," I said, and went into the living room and sat on the sofa.
Not coming up with any ideas on how to get out of my situation, I got off the sofa and crossed the room to turn on the television. No sooner did the sound come up when Thelma was standing in the doorway like a guard, holding a large butcher knife.
"Oh no, honey!.' she admonished. "We never watch television on the weekends."
I wanted to ask her how come. She had such a fine color set. But I decided against it.
Instead I asked: "Then you DO watch it during the week?"
"Oh sure. But our weekends we set aside for OUR world, not THEIRS."
I could sense the hostility and decided to come right out with it.
"Thelma, would you mind if I left. Give the girls my thanks and tell them I'll be in touch?"
The words came tumbling out in a rush and I could feel the blood rising in my cheeks.
CHAPTER THREE
"Frankly honey, I wouldn't mind if you left, but Bill left strict orders that I was to keep you here. And if there's one thing I've learned, it's not to get my oldest boy angry!"
"Oh," I said in a small voice.
I wondered what she would actually do if I tried to walk out the door, but another glance at the knife in her hand dispelled any thoughts I may have entertained about escaping.
"Why don't you just sit down here and wait for them, child? Here," she said indicating a Good Housekeeping Magazine. "Read this."
"Thank you," I murmured. After I obediently sat back on the couch, Thelma took one more glance around the room before going back into the kitchen.
Glancing through the magazine I thought my situation was a mockery. Here were women baking cookies, scrubbing ovens, learning new ways to look prettier for their husbands, and what was I doing? I was nothing more than a prisoner in some goddam floating lesbian factory.
The front door opened and my heart jumped. But it was Tim. He gave me a long look, the meaning of which I couldn't fathom, before disappearing down the hallway towards his bedroom.
I watched the way his long legs slipped along the carpet, the insolent swing of his hips and was suddenly seized with a desire to get fucked. Redly fucked. And after last night's exhibition with Bill, I knew one thing. I wanted and needed a royal screwing.
Removing my shoes, I tip-toed down the hallway towards Tim's bedroom. Behind the door to his room I could hear soft music from his radio. I knocked gently on the door.
"Come in, Margo," he said. My heart froze with excitement, but I retained enough composure to enter his room and shut the door gently behind me.
He was stretched out full length on his bed wearing only his jockey shorts, reading.
One look at my face and he rolled onto his back and stretched both arms up in the air.
"Come here, baby," he said.
Barely able to contain myself, I quickly slipped out of my clothes and crawled into his arms. His skin under my chest felt as smooth and as cool as a flower's petal. I moved my breasts onto his and felt them flatten like two ripe tomatoes. But as he raised me up in the air and moved me slightly forward, they became full again and he took one into his mouth.
As my nipples grew harder, I felt a direct, connected warmth begin between my legs. Tim moved slowly and deliberately, teasing me, while I urged him aggressively to hurry! Hurry!
My hunger for him was almost a madness, I wanted him inside me so badly. Wanted him because I wanted to prove to myself that I was a REAL woman. I didn't know. All I knew was that as his hands began their long, slow trek up and down my body, the goosebumps sprang up on my flesh and every nerve seemed closer to the surface than it had ever been before.
"Oh God, Tim!" I screamed in his ear as my right hand reached down to grab his huge throbbing cock that swung back and forth in space. I hung onto it for dear life. Normally I would have been consumed with a desire to devour it, but I had done that last night. Now I wanted him inside my body, locked between my thighs, probing and thrusting.
He turned me over easily so that I lay under him, and, hunching up on his knees so that he could fit my much smaller body to his long frame, drew my knees up and placed both my feet on his shoulders. I was expecting an enormous thrust, but he eased in gently and as I felt his cock reach further and further into my cunt, I was grateful that he hadn't thrusted, for I felt he surely would have cracked me right in two.
Now he began probing and thrusting, back and forth, in and out, and as I felt my hair lying in a damp ball of sweat behind my neck, I dug at him harder with my fingers into his back, asking for more, even though I knew there was no way I could possibly take all of him. He increased his rhythm and began to make an animal-like noise deep in his throat, like a growl.
I opened my eyes and watched him, eyes shut, perspiration pouring off his face, lips slightly opened, his whole body a study in ecstasy. Faster and faster he moved, grabbing at my ass with his big hands, spreading my cunt even wider apart as he tried to stuff all of himself into my body. Then, just like last night, he froze for an instant, before, his body went into a huge uncontrollable spasm and I felt his juices sear into my womb, splashing out and running down my legs while he rocked and rocked and came and came.
Then his hot sticky body collapsed on mine, almost suffocating me. I felt so happy I didn't care. As raw and as sore as I felt between my legs with his huge cock still distending the lips of my cunt, a peace filled me, took away the tension of my escape from this apartment and slowed my pounding heart.
I tried to ease his weight off me by sliding out the top part of my body from under him, trying not to jiggle his prick in case it slipped out. It didn't and I was able to breathe again.
His eyes were closed, a peaceful look on his handsome features. As I felt his cock retracting and shriveling up in my cunt, I moved so it slipped out easily, lubricated as it was by his enormous supply of come.
I snuggled against his back, drawing my knees up so that they fitted into his bent knees and fitted myself next to him like a spoon. I expected him to sleep for awhile, and wouldn't have minded at all spending my time in this fashion as I waited for my "captors" to return.
But his eyes fluttered open and he got out of bed immediately and walked naked to the bathroom. I felt deserted, but he returned in about five minutes, freshly showered, cool, and smelling as sweet as any fresh flower.
I felt soiled next to his cleanliness, sweaty and smelly, so I too took a shower, wishing that he had asked to share his with me. But oh well! All I was looking for was a good fuck, not a love affair.
Back in the bedroom, I found him in the exact position that I had first discovered him: lying on his bed, in his jockey shorts, reading.
"What are you reading?" I asked brightly, hoping to engage him in a conversation. After all, he hadn't spoken more than three words to me.
"It's a book on air conditioning," he said shortly.
"Is that what you want to do?" I asked. I felt disappointed, envisioning him as a famous model or hairdresser. Something glamorous.
"Yes," he replied simply. "There's good money in it."
Something suddenly clicked in my mind.
"How old are you, Tim?"
He stopped reading and looked deep into my eyes with interest.
"How old do you think I am?"
He's a child, I thought wildly! This is a game to him. Maybe he's even retarded. If so, it wouldn't be the first time I had been attracted to a tall, silent man that I thought was deep, only to discover that he could barely speak the language.
"Nineteen," I guessed, knowing that most young people love to be mistaken for older than they actually are.
"Nope!" he said triumphantly. "I'm fourteen!.' Oh dear God, I thought to myself. First Samantha at twelve, now Tim at fourteen. What next Margo, something in a basinet?
"Do you know where your brother and the girls went?" I hoped to change the subject and maybe get some information.
"He's not my brother," Tim said defensively.
"He's not?" I asked. How many more surprises were in store for me?
"No, he isn't."
"Well, is he Thelma's son?" I asked.
"No."
"Are you?"
"Nope."
"Well, how come you live here?" I asked.
"I don't live here," he said sullenly. "I come here when I want to. I'm free to go anytime I want."
"Would you like to go for a walk?" I asked him.
"Sure," he replied.
He got quickly out of bed and dressed. I followed his example hurriedly, not believing my good luck. We walked towards the living room, Tim first, me close behind, and he opened the door. Now we stood outside in the hallway.
I couldn't believe it, I was outside! Free!
My heart skipped along happily as we walked to the elevator. We had to wait a few minutes as there was only one car. We could watch its progress as the red light ticked off the floors.
When the door opened, my heart sank. There, facing, us, was Bill, Susan and Carol.
"What's up?" Bill asked, looking from Tim's face to mine and back again.
"Great," said Carol. "I am too."
Once on the street, I didn't feel so frightened. People moved around on the sidewalk, and though Carol stuck right by ray side, at least I had the illusion of freedom.
Tim seem to know everyone on the block, in fact, he stopped to chat with a group of boys playing basketball, making no effort to catch up with us.
In a few minutes we had left him completely behind. I felt a sense of loss and total vulnerability at the hands of Carol. God only knows what she had in store for me.
Then, right out of the blue, she asked: "Do you want to go to your apartment?"
"Oh, yes!.' I almost cried.
"I thought so," she said, walking a few blocks further without saying anything.
Just as I was about to ask her if we could go, she stepped into the street and hailed a cab.
"Where to?" she asked me.
I gave the driver my address and sank back into the seat as far as possible as I could get from Carol. We were on our way.
Once inside my apartment I expected to feel safe, home at last. But my apartment did not provide the welcome I had hoped for. It was musty and dark and suddenly alien to me.
The meowing of my kitten came from the direction of the kitchen. While Carol waited in the living room, I went into the kitchen and turned the light on. My landlady had been there all right. Milk and dried kitty food were set neatly out. I picked up the kitten and fondled her.
Just lonely, I guessed.
Going back to the living room I asked Carol if she wanted a drink.
"No," she replied shortly. "Just get your things."
"What things?" I almost cried.
"Well, aren't you tired of wearing the same outfit?" she asked calmly. "Get a gown. We're going out to Long Island to a party tonight."
I walked over to her as she sat on the couch. Feeling braver now that I was looking down on her for a change, I asked: "Will I be allowed to come back here Sunday night? After all, I have to go to work Monday, you know."
"The decision will be up to you, at that time," Carol said. "Who knows, you may not want to go back to your old life."
"But how will you get your welfare assistance if I don't process your application?" I asked.
"If you disappear, they'll send someone else," Carol said shortly.
Her remark made me remember Sam's phone calls. If only he would call now! But the phone was silent. There was no way I could call him and ask the kind of questions I needed to ask as long as Carol was right here in my apartment.
"Honey," Carol said, surprising me by suddenly reaching out both arms and encircling my waist, "you worry too much."
She's right, I thought. What AM I worried about. Too much sex? That was about all that had happened to me. Why not just relax and go along with the tide? So I decided to test her, to see if under that calm exterior lurked the kind of violence that would do me harm.
Better to risk it here, I thought, in my own apartment, than on some godforsaken stretch of Long Island beach.
"Well," I said, sitting in a chair opposite the couch she sat on, "I don't want to go. I'm tired and I'm expecting a phone call."
I kicked off my shoes in a flippant gesture.
Carol's reaction was fast and furious. In a shot she was off the couch and had me by the back of my hair.
"Look bitch," she hissed, "don't mess the fuck around with me or you won't have to worry about fatigue."
Somehow, I believed her.
"Now get your ass out of that chair and get some clothes for this evening. And while you're at it, put more kitty food out so you won't have to make any more phone calls to your landlady."
She followed me into my bedroom and stood by my closet as I sifted through my clothes.
Selecting a gown wasn't too difficult. I only owned one. It was black, V-necked and fabricated of soft flannel jersey. Taking my one pair of silver slippers and a small purse, I marched back into the living room. Carol remained in the bedroom.
"Margo," she called. "Where are you going?"
"I'm ready to leave," I replied.
"Come in here," Carol said, her voice considerably softer than before.
I placed my things on the arm of the couch and walked back into the bedroom.
She was stretched out on my bed, her head propped up on one elbow.
"We're leaving for the party from here," she said.
"Oh," I said. "What about Susan?"
"Susan's not coming."
"Why?" I asked.
"The woman giving the party doesn't like Susan. She likes fresh meat. Yes, something different every week."
"We've got a few hours," Carol continued lazily. "Why don't you lie down here for awhile and rest. It's going to be a long night."
She patted a spot next to her on the bed.
Obediently, I crossed the room and lay down next to her on my spread.
She drew me next to her long body with one sure, strong arm and nuzzled my ear.
"How would you like me to give you a nice, hot, bubble bath?" she murmured between licking my ears.
The idea excited me. Maybe it was her fat warm tongue lapping deep into my ears and her strong hands moving tantalizingly over my body, brushing my cunt carelessly before moving onto my swollen tits.
Without waiting for an answer, she abruptly got out of the bed and soon I could hear the water running and smell the sweet scent of my bath water. I closed my eyes dreamily and waited for her to come back into the room.
She returned in a few minutes, and scooping me up effortlessly into her arms, carried me into the bathroom.
Placing me gently down on the toilet seat, she removed my dress, bra, nylons, and panties. I lay back helplessly on the toilet like a little kid. Then, kneeling before me on the bathroom floor, she parted my thighs with her hands and buried her face into my cunt. She started to eat me out, making my clit swell with blood and my heart pound faster.
I reached forward with both my hands and buried them in her short hair, pulling her well-shaped head closer and closer.
Giving me one sweet, clinging kiss and rolling my clit around in her mouth like some rare grape, she stood suddenly and again gathered me into her arms before placing me gently into the bath water.
I sank deep into the bright bubbles, noting the perfect temperature of the water. Not too hot and not too lukewarm. While I lay back, with my head resting on the end away from the faucets, she took a facecloth and scrubbed soap onto it. Then, starting with my face, she began to methodically wash my body, just like my mother did many years ago. I felt about three years old and loved every minute of it. She carefully washed each ear, my neck, scrubbed my back, washed gently under my armpits, then, taking the bar itself, began to lather my tits.
"Stand, sweetie," she commanded gently.
Like the small child that I had become, I stood obediently.
Her face met my crotch perfectly as she knelt before the bathtub. She took the bar of soap and carefully suds my cunt hairs, making them lie flat and white. Then she turned me around.
"Bend over," she said.
I leaned over, my hands flat against the tiled wall, while she spread the cheeks of my ass and washed my asshole clean.
Grabbing me around the waist again, she turned me to face her. Slapping the face cloth in the water, she renewed her soaping efforts and lathered my legs down to my ankles.
"Sit," she said.
I slid back into the water and she lifted each foot, one at a time and scrubbed the soles of my feet and between each toe.
This was a lot cheaper than going to Elizabeth Arden's, I thought, and a lot more fun!
Wordlessly, she pulled the plug and the water started coursing down the drain in a powerful swirl. She lifted me on my feet, and adjusted the temperature out of the bath faucets before turning on the spray that rinsed me squeaky clean.
I didn't know what she had in mind next and didn't want to ask. I preferred being surprised and enjoyed this sense of helplessness, enjoyed being cared for.
Carol found my shaving cream and razor and brought it over to the tub.
If she wants to kills me, she'll never have a better opportunity, I thought. But I didn't feel threatened at all. There was this paradox about Carol that intrigued me. Perhaps because her own body was a paradox, naturally her temperament would be. She had the body of a woman, but the desires of a man. She had the gentle tenderness of a woman, and a manly violence that didn't lie too dormant under the surface of her monosyllabic style.
While she spread the thick white foam under my arms and over both legs, I studied her features carefully. Her brows were perfectly arched, though not plucked. Her nose was straight and the skin on her face was smooth of lines or blemishes. Her eyes were dark brown, almost black, and almond-shaped. It was hard to figure her age, but I guessed her to be in her early thirties. One thing for sure, I didn't want to anger her. I wanted to please her; make her like me. And my only defense was my sexuality and complaisance . Far be it from me to engage her in any kind of argument. She was not a verbal person. Her weapon was violence and glancing down at her broad powerful hands as they carefully shaved me made me tremble.
"Spread your legs," she said curtly, breaking into my thoughts.
If she cuts my clit off, I thought wildly, she might as well slit my throat too. But I gingerly separated both feet, bracing myself on the slippery floor of the tub and balanced myself with one hand on her head, as she lathered my cunt hairs.
She shaved neatly around the top of my thighs, making my already perfect triangle of bush tighter and neater.
"We'll probably be swimming tomorrow," she said, "and I don't think you want your pussy hanging out from your bikini."
"I don't have a bikini," I said, feeling somehow inadequate.
"No problem," Carol said. 'There are plenty of suits where we're going."
Again I squelched my desire to ask more, afraid to know too much and enjoying a sense of danger and suspense.
Carol rinsed the blade off and put it back into my medicine chest. Then she took a large bath towel off the hook and set it down on the toilet.
Once again she ran the shower spray over my body, removing all the shaved hairs and shaving cream.
Now she lifted me out of the tub and sat me on the toilet and began to dry me off.
I sat dumb and mute, exhilarating to the feel of the brusque terry as it brought the blood to the surface and polished up my skin.
After deodorizing, perfuming and powdering my body, Carol gathered me into her arms and carried me back into the bedroom.
"Do you want me to dress now?" I asked.
"Not yet."
She lifted the alarm clock and set it for eight o'clock. Then she turned on the radio, finding a station that played only erzatz classical records and turned off the lights.
I lay on the spread, not daring to breathe, feeling expectantly happy, lost in a debauched world, understanding for the first time that weekend what Carol meant when she said I might not want to return to my world of being a case worker.
This time, Carol didn't bother with any perfunctory foreplay. She went right to the heart of the matter by swiftly spreading my thighs with her broad hands and separating the lips of my cunt with her golden tongue.
The louder she lapped and lapped, the more furiously I pumped my hips and grabbed her head. She kissed and she sucked. She licked so hard it was as though she was trying to draw every juice out of my twat, and that not being enough, she stuck her tongue so far up my asshole I had a terrible sensation that I might fart in her face. I pulled my sphincter muscles tighter and tighter, trying to ward off the fart, but it was to no avail. As her tongue slipped in and out of my asshole, and as she kept blowing hot air up there, I felt a tremor run through my body as with a loud expansion of air, the biggest fart in my life rumbled out of my hole with a blast.
"Oh baby!" Carol murmured. "Do that again!"
She had my ass and cunt up to her face now as she knelt in front of me on the bed. As she ran her tongue from one hole to the other, I farted and farted to my heart's content.
I had never felt such ecstasy, such freedom! I opened my eyes to adore her, and while she never missed a beat of licking, she was unbuckling her jeans with one hand and yanking them down around her knees.
Turning her body so that her feet touched the floor, she stepped out of them and I stared in wonder at the jockey shorts she wore. Inside her shorts was a large erect penis!
Could she really be a man, I wondered? My question was soon answered when she slipped her shorts off to reveal a strapped on dildo, its rubbery pinkness so like the real thing that I gasped.
Now her lips left my cunt and asshole and sought out my mouth with a crushing kiss as her tongue sucked on my own. I could taste myself on her tongue and it excited me. It was almost like eating myself! Something I had tried to do on many a lonely night, to no avail.
She worked her way between my thighs with her body, and placed one hand under the cheeks of my ass so that they were raised when she entered me. Her fucking rhythm was so perfect that I never would have guessed it was anything but the real thing except for her breasts which pressed against my own, taut nipple to nipple.
My hands were raking her back now as I felt my orgasm build towards its climax. This was the best of both possible worlds, I thought. I didn't have to worry about getting pregnant or anything. I felt lost in wanton lust, abandoned in depravity as suddenly my body began to buck madly.
"Oh baby!" Carol screamed. "I want to fuck you to death!"
I could feel her body growing rigid too, and knew that we were coming together, which we did, in one great shattering climax. The air was thick with my perfume as it rose off my steaming body.
Carol collapsed in a heap on top of me, the dildo, ever erect, still jammed comfortably up my cunt. I kissed her face and felt such affection towards her that I was really happy it was just the two of us that were going to the party tonight.
Glancing at the clock, I saw that we had several hours left, and contentedly drifted off to nap, my arms snug around this tall, magnificent woman.
At eight o'clock on the dot, my buzzer rang.
"That's the limo," Carol said. We had showered together and were ready for the party on Long Island.
CHAPTER FOUR
Locking the apartment I thought to myself how Carol took care of everything, just like a man. She had arranged for a limo; she had arranged me.
Getting to really know her would be difficult, I knew, but I felt it would be worth the effort.
Maybe because of the predicament I was in made me feel dependent upon her, but I was aware of a new need, unlike anything I had ever experienced before.
The chauffer was standing by the curbside back door of the limo by the time we reached the sidewalk. He tipped his hat with a polite greeting, his eyes never betraying for an instant what he must have privately thought at the sight of what I knew the two of us looked like: American's Number One Odd Couple.
On the drive out to the island, Carol explained that the limousine belonged to our hostess and that she always sent it for Carol because Carol always managed to bring someone new and interesting to her parties.
"Then again," Carol added, "it's not her only limo, either."
I was enjoying the luxurious ride, and leaned back deeper into the cushioned seat, holding Carol's hand softly while her low voice hummed along.
"How did she know where I lived?" I asked Carol.
"I called her while you were sleeping," Carol answered.
I thought back to my half sleep when I did miss Carol for a few minutes, thinking only that she had gone to the bathroom. Selfishly I thought about the toll call on my phone bill, then dismissed that petty thought instantly. I was certainly having enough fun to justify that small expenditure, I chided myself. "Some Sam called you while you were sleeping," Carol said generously. "I didn't want to wake you, so I gave him the number out where we're going. He'll probably call you in a couple of hours."
Hearing that piece of intelligence made me feel even more secure with Carol. If I was going to be hurt, she certainly wouldn't be giving out the telephone number where I could be reached.
There you go again, I rebuked myself as the car sped along the Long Island Expressway.
What is it that you feel so threatened by? Could it be that you are afraid to confront your own sexual identity? Can you accept the fact that you may be a lesbian?
No, I answered myself. I don't think of myself as a lesbian. I like men and cocks and come.
At best, I'm bisexual. But I remembered my abnormal psychology studies in college. The prevailing thought was that there wasn't any such thing as bisexuality. That was thought of as a cop out. If you found yourself in bed with a member of your own sex enjoying it, you were queer baby, and that's that!
I wondered if it was necessary to make a final choice about one's sexual partners forever. Did most people declare themselves one way or the other? At which point in one's life did one know? I felt that if I was open to all kinds of experiences, sexual or non-sexual, the variety could be endless. Until the end came. And when it did, I thought morbidly, one's sexuality no longer mattered. I also felt that most people who refused to experiment with life atrophied, just like their sexual organs. Well, I said to myself, at the rate you're going, there didn't seem to be much of a chance that my genitals would rot and drop off.
Enough of that kind of thinking, I cautioned myself as the car turned off the expressway and sped down a dark country road. We were on the South Shore, that much I could tell.
But even though I hadn't been paying that much attention to the ride, it would be possible for me to retrace my way.
The car suddenly slowed and turned into a driveway with two pillars on each side of the entrance. It reminded me of the ten mile drive in Newport, where palatial home after palatial home, each one more elaborate than the next, rimmed the Atlantic on the tip of the island.
Even from the entrance I could see the great house lit up cheerfully. I felt better and an anticipatory excitement made my heart race. Some part of me that dreaded this trek had feared that one long candle would be burning in some dreary frightening hideaway. But as we got out of the car, I could hear music and laugher. My spirits lifted with wonder.
The driver sped off and for one dark moment I thought to myself that he was probably going somewhere else to pick up some "fresh meat" as Carol so aptly had referred to me.
We climbed the steps to the great door and Carol lifted the huge knocker. Almost instantly the heavy door swung open, and an elderly white-haired very distinguished man greeted us. As we didn't have any coats, he led us directly into the ballroom which was filled with at least several hundred people of all ages, sizes and dress. Then he returned to his station by the door.
Carol took my hand, and, pushing her way through the maze of people, led me to a small, blonde woman who stood in the center of the room. This lovely lady was so striking, she seemed to be the sun, the brightest star in this galaxy of a room.
I knew instantly that she was the hostess, even before Carol introduced me to Lola.
The blonde woman broke away from the little group she had been talking to, and, turning her back to them, took my hand and stood back, as though appraising a filly at the yearling sales.
"So THIS is your new friend!.' she cried delightedly, her voice high and tinkly with pleasure.
Her lips parted in a brilliant smile of perfectly dazzling teeth, the kind that cost a fortune.
It was easy for me to return her smile. She radiated such warmth and generosity of spirit.
Without trying to stare too hard, I judged her age to be in the mid-forties. She surely must have had a face lift, as her face was wrinkle free and her eyes were absent of any tell-tale aging bags or shadows. Her hair, though probably bleached, was platinum blonde with silvery tones and her eyes were as young and as clearly blue as the child Samantha. She wore bright red lipstick which contrasted nicely with her beautiful teeth. Her face was so carefully made up it gave the appearance of not having any makeup.
She was wearing a white gown, which by its very simplicity spoke of its originality and value.
It was inconceivable to me that this lovely lady could ask Carol to bring her "fresh meat" for her parties. Maybe she spoke like that in bed, I thought. Even the most civilized person discovered the barbaric side of themselves, the primitive animal, between the sheets.
Envisioning her in bed with Carol caused me a quick tinge of jealousy, and I instinctively moved closer to Carol. But Carol was staring at someone across the room, directly all her interest so far away from me that I felt lost. Was it possible to have any kind of lasting relationship in the gay world? Was it always a continuous quest for another fresh cunt?
Then again, what Carol had with Susan was a kind of marriage, complete with child. Why should I expect her to behave any differently from most of the married men I had met in my life? I guess because she was of my own sex that I felt a sense of betrayal.
Then the orchestra struck up again with a lively tune and my attention returned to Lola.
She reached out and touched the elbow of a servant who was passing through the crowd with a silver tray full of drinks. As he paused respectfully, she removed two glasses and handed one to me.
"I never ask what people want to drink," she said, "because I only serve champagne. It keeps things simple."
I raised the bubbly liquid to my lips and took a very unladylike sip. But I needed to feel lightheaded to handle this environment and this sophisticated woman.
"Carol tells me you are a case worker," she continued. "She meets so many of them!"
"Yes," I murmured, preferring to let her talk until the liquor loosened my tongue.
"It must be tremendously dreary work, darling," she said with a patronizing smile. "Are you planning to make a career of it?"
"I guess so," I stammered. I never tried to think too much about the future, preferring to take each day as it came. Actually the idea of being a case worker for the rest of my working life depressed me. I wish I had been born with money. Then I could be a philanthropist. Be kind to people on a distant level, not with the nitty-gritty ordinariness of dealing face to face with poverty and misery. I would have like to have said this aloud, but something told me that women like Lola didn't like to discuss social issues in any depth.
Watching television talk shows was enough exposure for them. That, and writing tax-deductible checks to their favorite charity.
"Well-," Lola said, "I hope this evening will provide a nice contrast, or escape for you from the depressing world of New York's welfare clients."
It was an unexpectedly perceptive remark, and I felt a closeness to her I knew could grow into something more.
I gulped the rest of my champagne down and stood there foolishly with my empty glass.
But Lola, with a sure, deft move born from many years of practice, had it replaced almost instantly.
I was beginning to feel much better, happier than I had felt in a long time. I loved money, I realized with a guilty start. But who doesn't? Money and the things it bought gave me a sense of well-being and security that I had never been able to feel even when I was loved.
"Would you like to see the ocean?" Lola asked, interrupting my thoughts and taking me by the elbow, before I could answer.
We walked out of the main room onto a balcony. A salty breeze blew my hair back gently as I looked out across the ocean. It rolled under the moon rhythmically in and out, in and out, the white caps of the waves breaking on the deserted beach below us. I was glad no one else was on the balcony. It was too special a scene which I knew (with a sense of sadness) would soon become only a memory.
If I could find love in this world, I thought to myself, I would commit myself to it. But it seemed as though the people I had met since Friday afternoon were only interested in sex. Just like the heterosexual or straight world. True love was as elusive there, as here.
Could it only be Saturday night? I still had one more do to "do".
I felt a sudden chill as something cold touched my elbow. Breaking out of my reverie, I glanced down at my arm and realized that Lola had touched me with a diamond that was at least five carats. It caught the light of the moon and lit her face which wore a curious smile.
"You're a quiet one," she said.
I felt words rushing from my head to my tongue but drowning in the spittle.
"Would you like another glass of champagne?" I nodded dumbly.
She leaned towards me and gave me a little kiss on my neck. Her perfume filled my nostrils with an exquisite scent that made me tremble.
Why are you so tongue-tied? I asked myself when she left the balcony. Almost instantly I knew the answer. I always felt this way when I thought I was in an environment that was superior to mine. The money, the beauty, the luxury simply took my breath away. The desire for it choked me.
You'd better get your shit together, I said sharply to myself. You're a college graduate, you have a profession, you're just as good as anyone in that room there. But despite my bravado, glancing into the large room through the windowed balcony doors at the glamorous gathering, I felt another voice insistently saying: No, you're not!
Lola slipped back onto the balcony and handed me another glass of champagne.
"I'm sorry I took so long, darling, but a few of my guests complained of feeling neglected."
"I'm sorry to keep you away from them," I said.
"Nonsense!" she cried. "I've been looking forward to meeting you all week!"
The champagne was really hitting my frontal lobes now. I blurted out: "Why?"
"Why?" she repeated as though confused. \ "Didn't Carol tell you anything?"
"Only that we were coming to a party on Long Island tonight," I answered.
"She isn't very articulate, is she?" Lola asked rhetorically, but still not answering my question.
"Well, why DO you think you're here?" she asked, a curious smile playing about her perfectly formed lips.
"I guess," I stammered, "because I'm fresh meat!.' "Fresh meat!" she almost squealed. "Carol certainly has a peculiar way with words, doesn't she?"
I felt better instantly. It WAS Carol's phrase, and not this elegant woman's.
"Come back inside," she invited. "The show's about to begin."
Wondering what "the show" was, I followed her graceful figure back into the large hall like room.
Couples were dancing, man and woman, woman and girl, woman and woman, man and girl.
With impressive authority, Lola walked over to the raised platform where the orchestra sat and raised her arm for silence. People began nudging each other and indicating that something different than dancing was in the works. A respectful hush fell across the room.
I saw Carol assume the Lotus position with her long legs as she sat down on a large pillow with her new companion, a young teenager.
"I hope you are all enjoying yourselves," Lola began, then waited for the applause to die down.
Bunch of goddam sycophants I thought to myself. How many places in New York could they booze it up and eat for free in such a gorgeous setting? Far away, I added to myself, from the noise of the city and the police. Well, that's one thing, I continued to myself, that money buys, priceless privacy.
"You all remember last Friday's party when we gave an award to the largest prick present, and I don't mean in business," Lola said. "But tonight," she went on, "just as I promised last week, I will give away one thousand genuine silver dollars to one of last week's five runner-ups who can fuck Margo, our special guest tonight, the longest!"
I felt myself gasp. A gang bang! Myself as the bang, and THEM as the gang. I glanced nervously around the room, everyone was staring at me. Leering would have been a better word.
"No women tonight," Lola continued. "Even I have never heard of a dildo that would wilt!"
"That's the beauty of them!" Carol shouted from across the room as everyone laughed.
But Lola was preoccupied.
"Margo, would you please come over here?" she called.
I stood frozen where I was, halfway across the room from the small stage. Glancing at the door, I saw the kindly old gentleman who had let us into the house. He no longer looked kindly. As a matter of fact, he was practically blocking the exit, his arms folded across his chest.
Maybe this is it, I thought wildly. Maybe after having god knows how many cocks shoved up inside my cunt I'll never want another one in my life. Otherwise what was the point of this exhibition? But I couldn't think too clearly. All the champagne I had consumed had blurred the edge of my reality so that, like a zombie, I crossed the ballroom to where Lola stood in front of a microphone.
"I hope you don't mind," Lola whispered to me. Aloud she said to the crowd: "The 'entry fee' for this contest is one hundred dollars.' Thinking that would dismay the five runnerups from last week, I was astonished to see all five reach into their wallets. One voice yelled: "Will you accept a check?"
While the room buzzed excitedly and the lights were dimmed, I studied them carefully.
The group certainly provided a nice variety.
The oldest, and certainly the jauntiest, Dr. Padrone, must have been in his seventies. The youngest, Jack, was in his late teens. The other three ranged from mid-twenties, early thirties, and mid-forties.
Several members of the orchestra rolled a large bed to the front of the stage. I allowed Lola to undress me and lead me to it. As my dress hit the floor, I heard a murmur of appreciation ripple throughout the crowd, which had seated itself on the floor on many large pillows. Most of then rested their drinks in front of them and were smoking.
"Don't worry, honey," Lola whispered to me. "You might have a good time and I'll make it up to you later."
She gave my hand a little squeeze for courage as I lay on the bed.
Aloud to the crowd she said: "Margo has had time to view all the contestants. We will blindfold her. She will have to guess who is fucking her. Each correct guess adds back another hundred into the pot."
This is some kind of perverted version of The Dating Game, I thought to myself, as Lola slipped a black blindfold over my eyes.
"May I have the stop watch please?" Lola called out.
I lay there in the blackness, every nerve in my body waiting to be assaulted. The room grew very quiet and all I could hear was the beating of my heart. Suddenly I felt someone licking my toes. Very thoroughly and very carefully, his warm tongue went into each crevice and then proceeded to suck each toe.
This has got to be the old man, I thought. But as he worked his way up my legs I wasn't so sure anymore. I reached out towards his head and felt a thick mane of hair. Still could be, I thought. The old codger had a thick mane of silver grey hair. I stroked the strands between my fingers, trying to determine its color.
Then his hands were on my thighs. They were soft, almost womanly. No calluses here, I noted. He parted the lips of my cunt with his fingers and gave a few perfunctory licks. Got to be the old man, I thought. I knew a lot of old fashioned people didn't feel comfortable going down on a woman. Then my body was completely covered by his bulk as he grabbed me under the ass and stuck his cock high up inside my cunt. His cock was wide and thick, like a bull's. Despite myself I enjoyed it and gave him as much help as I could, knowing that five men in a row could take forever if I didn't help them along. I wanted them to come; and fast!
"Faster, faster," I whispered in his ear, and raked my fingers up and down his back. Then, reaching underneath his body, I grabbed one of his balls and gently began to squeeze and fondle it.
His body jerked spasmodically and I could feel his come leave his testes and shoot forward up his wide shaft into my gaping twat. He writhed and moaned and shook before collapsing in a sweaty hunk on top of my body.
Lola's clear voice rang out across the room: "Five minutes and five seconds!"
There was a scattering of applause and a few whistles. I was glad I was on the pill even though I hadn't been sleeping regularly with anyone. All I needed was to get pregnant and wonder who the illegitimate child's father was.
"All right, Margo," Lola said. "Do you have any idea which of the five men that was?"
"I think it was the doctor," I said.
"Wrong!" Lola said cheerfully. "That's another one hundred dollars in the pot. This narrows your field down to four contestants.
And you can rule out Jack."
Jack, the teenager.
"Sloppy seconds," I heard a deep male voice say in my ear. He must have felt that I was sufficiently sexually aroused, for without any preliminary foreplay, he flipped me on my stomach and spread both my legs so that each foot hung off the sides of the large bed.
I felt the cheeks of my ass being spread apart by his hands. Then something soft and gentle. His tongue. He began licking my asshole. I felt myself relax, enjoying an abandoned feeling. Who ever would have dreamed, .I thought, after the severe kind of toilet training I had received as a child, that when I grew up people would actually lick my ass! Me, who was always taught to wipe carefully, that "dirty doo doo" from my little bum!
The more he rimmed my asshole with his tongue, the more relaxed I became, so that when I suddenly felt his huge thrust rip into my rectum I was totally taken by surprise. The pain made me scream. I felt something wet leak down towards my cunt and knew it was blood. The pain made me contract my sphincter muscles, but it was too late. He was already deep into my anal tract, and to my complete surprise, it felt good.
While he pumped in and out, in and out, he brought his fingers under my belly, and reaching lower to my cunt, massaged my clit with his middle finger, lubricating me so that he also could slip two fingers up, deep into my pussy.
I writhed and moaned on the soft bed with delight. It was like getting fucked by two men at the same time! Double your pleasure I thought to myself. I snapped my ass high into the air while I squeezed even tighter on his long, narrow shaft.
"Get it on, you little cunt," he hissed in my ear. His breathing was getting shorter now, turning into gulping gasps and I knew he would come against his better judgment. I wanted him to come, faster than my last partner. I felt there was something perversely sadistic in his whole manner, and instinctively didn't want him to win.
"Your cock is beautiful," I murmured, giving another buck with my hips. "I love your cock.
Come! Come!" I coaxed.
Against his will, he started pumping faster and faster.
"I love your asshole," he cried helplessly. "I want to fuck your shit!"
I squirmed side to side, back and forth, up and down, everything I could think of to bring him off. I was rewarded almost instantly as suddenly his hot fluid shot high into my buttocks, and having no place to go, ran back down in warm rivulets out of my asshole. As he too collapsed on my sweating body, I felt a peculiar kind of satisfaction.
"Five minutes flat!" Lola cried out.
There was even less applause for him. I scanned the faces of the contestants in my memory, wanting to correctly identify this one so that no more money would be added to the growing pot.
"Well, Margo?" Lola asked.
"Phil," I said, naming the guy in his mid-twenties. Hoping that because he was closest to my generation, and more likely to experiment, that my guess was correct.
"Right!" Lola cried.
I heaved a sigh of relief.
"Now the field is narrowed down to three," Lola intoned dramatically.
I quickly thought to myself, that the mid-twenties guy was out, I had not had the old Doctor, the teenager was out. That left the doctor, the mid-thirties and mid-forties guy.
I smelled Lola's perfume as she approached me on the bed.
"You're doing just fine," she said in a low voice. "Honey, believe me, I appreciate your efforts to bring them off fast. You're saving me money. Don't worry, like I told you before, I'll more than make it up to you."
I smiled blindly at her.
I was discovering something about myself. I didn't want them to stay inside me a long time. I wanted them to get in as I was nothing more than a tool to them. A depository for their semen and fantasies.
CHAPTER FIVE
Not one of them gave a shit about me. They were only trying to get their rocks off and win the money. It was a reversal of sorts on the prostitute motif. I wasn't getting paid to participate in this, they were. What was I, I suddenly thought defensively?
Stop it! I said. You're really having a good time. You're the center of attention. If you weren't attractive, no one would have entered the contest. Stop trying to put everything down. Enjoy! Enjoy!
I had turned over on my back again, and waited for the next contestant. I had hopes that the mid-thirties guy would be good. I liked him the best and had mentally decided to really prolong his orgasm, wanting him to win. In some odd way he reminded me of my English professor in College. Someone I had always wanted to fuck. But being the proper student that I had been, I had never dared make an overture to him, preferring to stare moon-eyed at him from the front row of his class.
My thoughts were interrupted by someone easing themselves into the bed with me.
Hoping it was my mid-thirties contestant, I groped towards him, pulling him closer to me and sought out his mouth. His lips met mine in a truly sweet kiss. With his chest so close to mine, I could feel the beating of his heart.
"Lovely, lovely," he murmured into my ear.
I ran my hands down the long slender length of his body, delighting in the toned quality of his wiry frame.
He began kissing my neck, slowly, exciting within me a delight at his closeness, a yearning to prolong this one, even if it wasn't the surrogate college professor.
The mind, I thought crazily, the mind works miracles. Even with my blindfold on, I could see him in my mind's eye, and that is what I was making love to. Making love! Not getting fucked and sucked and reamed. But trying to give pleasure as well as take it!
I was happy, ecstatic, as his trembling hands moved lovingly up and down my back, came around to the front and traced my nipples, growing taut now with desire.
"Margo, Margo," he whispered, bending over me and licking my nipples. One at a time he took them into his mouth and tenderly nibbled at them, sucked them, kissed them, rolling the tits lovingly around on his tongue. Now it was me who was urging him for more and not because I wanted him to come. But because I wanted so much of him all at once, the agony was unbearable. I could feel his healthy prick lying erect on my legs, warm and strong, throbbing as though it had a life of its own.
Rather than filling my ears with sex words, he murmured endearments, and blind as I was, I felt myself actually falling in love! Impossible, I chided myself. However, love IS blind!
Maybe I was just falling in love with the memory of my professor, acting out with this stranger all I had yearned to do in college and never had the guts to.
No time to analyze. His tongue was deep on my belly now. Burrowing into my belly button, licking me lower and lower, making his way to the super lick spot of all, my hot and throbbing cunt.
With great authority he pushed my thighs up, back towards my shoulders and began to lap with great enjoyment, my soiled cunt.
How can he do this, I wondered? He's actually licking sperm from the others, how can he eat that? He's licking me clean! He's cleansing the wound! He's making me fresh for him!
I grabbed his head and begged him to turn around. "I want to suck your cock!" I cried feverishly.
I didn't have to ask him twice. Neatly, and with one athletic move, he assumed the sixty-nine position. Greedily I took his cock into my mouth.
It was perfect! 'Not too large, so that I would choke, and not too small so that I would feel I was sucking on my thumb. It was just right. About seven inches I guessed. It's warm, wonderful shaft-like self slipped deep into my throat as I licked it, from the base to the tip. I dwelled on that area just beneath the head, on the underside of his swollen member.
I didn't want him to come quickly, but I wanted to give him as much pleasure as he was giving me! The more lovingly he lapped my cunt, the more I pulled at his cock, using my hand to jerk it in and out of my mouth, blubbering it against my slack lips, wanting to stick it up my nose, in my ears, between my tits, waiting to take it into every orifice my body had, yet savoring it, not wanting him to shoot his load until I was sure we were over a safe time limit.
He seemed content where he was. I knew already that he had been with me longer than any of the others. I felt myself relax. Then, while I was in this relaxed state, I felt my body stiffen. Oh my God, I was going to come!
I reached down and pushed his head closer to my cunt and sucked more furiously on his cock. He cupped my ass in his hands as he buried his face even deeper into my twat.
Oh! Oh! Oh! I felt, HERE I GO! And with much squirming, thrashing and snapping, I felt myself reach that apex of physical pleasure, the climax!
He calmly licked me until my throbbing clit subsided back into its tiny sheath and couldn't take any more stimulation. This I indicated by squishing my legs together and murmuring: "No! No! Please! That's enough!"
Then he turned around and grasped me in his arms. As his arms folded me close to his body, he slowly", but firmly, made his entrance into my cunt.
With complete, steady, magnificent control, he rammed himself up, up, and up inside my still pulsating pussy.
I contracted my vaginal muscles tightly around his cock, and began to move in that ageless movement whose only teacher is instinct. I felt his lips part in pleasure on my neck.
"You're really great," he whispered to me.
I was no longer in a room full of people. I could have been on the beach, anywhere, I was alone with him and our sexuality, our hunger, our mutual need for a safe place to indulge our sexual tensions and desires.
His strokes began to increase in force. Harder and surer they sought that part of my womb that buttressed his entrance. Pounding against a door so tiny that only a minute spermatozoa could penetrate, he erupted with a frustration that only a thick-headed prick can know as complete submission.
I felt his come wash the walls of my womb and retreat like the very waves of the Atlantic I had watched earlier in the evening from the balcony. It was the tide of life. No wonder they say life began in the sea. Its very rhythms were the same.
I expected to hear Lola's voice booming out again with the time it took to complete this fuck, but there was only an awed silence in the room.
As I lay there in this contestant's arms, I finally heard Lola's muffled voice: "Fifteen minutes and twenty seconds!"
I sank deeper into the mattress and sighed. Ordinarily, I would have preferred to take a nap, but this was neither the time or the place.
"And who," Lola asked me in a choked voice, "do you think that was?"
Immediately I said: "Dick Stone," naming the mid-thirties guy that reminded me so much of my professor.
The room burst loudly into applause, and I thought contentedly to myself that at least I had guessed two of the contestants correctly.
But the applause was not for me.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Lola was saying, "but that was Dr. Padrone, Long Island's finest doctor."
Shit, I thought to myself. That goddam old man was easily into his seventies. Granted he was handsome, but whoever could have believed he could have sustained such a long, prolonged sexual encounter? Not me, but then again, my character analyses lately had been so far off the wall, it seriously shook the very foundations of my being.
I didn't think I could bear up under two more contestants and was relieved when I heard Lola ask the remaining two if they thought they could beat the doctor's record.
Although I couldn't see their faces, they obviously backed off. Even though the doctor had won, and I had guessed incorrectly, I was happy. He had not only brought me off, he had taken his time with his own pleasure and deserved the silver dollars.
I lay there, waiting for someone to remove my blindfold, and to lead me to a hot bath. If there was anything I wanted to do, it was to soak in a tub and get a good night's sleep.
Tomorrow would be Sunday, my last day under Carol's supervision and I wanted to be fresh. The next morning I awoke in a room by the sea. The curtains on the windows that flanked one side of the room flapped gently in the breeze that blew in from the ocean. I sighed and buried my head deeper into the pillow. The fresh linen scent mixed deliciously with the odor of the ocean.
I stretched my arms over my head so that they touched the headboard and pointed both my toes towards the footboard.
I was completely nude. Bending my nose towards my armpit, I knew someone had bathed me. Absently, I brought my right hand towards my cunt and flicked my middle finger up and down my clit. Bringing that messenger towards my nose confirmed the fact that someone had bathed me, but good!
There were probably plenty of drugs in this house, I thought to myself. But after last night's performance, I didn't need anything artificial to knock me out. I thought back over to the time I had spent since Friday afternoon when I first wandered into Susan's apartment.
Briefly recounting my sexual encounters, I remembered Carol and Susan, Samantha, Bill and Tim, Thelma, Carol again, and the three men last night.
What next, I thought idly, suddenly remembering Lola. I suspected she wouldn't let me leave this house without leaving her mark in some way on me.
I no longer cared.
How many people go through their entire lives with only a fraction of what I had experienced in one weekend? I knew their numbers were legion. I was grateful that enough people found me sexually attractive enough to desire me. Only a dummy would consider that an insult.
Good morning, little whore, I said sarcastically. That was a joke. I hadn't made a fucking cent from all the fucking! m I could never become a prostitute. I was too embarrassed to ask for money. Even from friends who owed it to me! I could hear myself now, stammering to someone in a bar: "Excuse me, Sir. Yes I would love to go to your apartment with you. But, ah, it's going to cost you."
"Cost me what?"
"Er... cab fare!"
So much for my career as a pay for play girl. I was too much of a schmuck to ever carry that scene off. Actually I envied girls who could. They weren't walking around tenements all day for a lousy one hundred and fifty a week. They had beautiful apartments, clothes, cars and ate in the best restaurants. Jerks like me gave it away, usually to some non-appreciative oaf who felt he was doing you a favor!
I realized that I had heavy ambivalent feelings about my attitude towards men. It was easier to deal with women. They were as familiar to myself as I was. Men were a challenge on the battlefield of life. You could get shot on a battlefield and I had been wounded enough. Now I was gun-shy.
Restricting myself to women might be a cop-out too. Take no chances, get no gains. But if we were seeking that safe womb-like security out of the confusion of being thrust into an alien environment, why not take it where you found it?
On the night table next to my bed was an ornate clock. It ticked along and announced the time as ten thirty. Good, I didn't want to miss too much on this, my last day.
I felt as though my life would be over tomorrow. But as I fought opposing feelings about my sexual behavior, I realized everyone has this kind of war within themselves. The flesh against the spirit. It's nothing new. It's just that for the first time in my life I was being asked to make decisions that could have far-reaching effects for me.
Just then Lola entered the room in a pretty morning gown on chiffon. Like Mother Nature, I thought to myself. She held a silver tray in her hands. On the tray was everything I loved for breakfast.
"I hope I haven't wakened you," she said.
"Not at all," I answered, struggling to sit up under the heavy blankets.
"After last night, I thought you might need some food," she said, placing the tray across the bed in front of me.
"That's very considerate of you," I said. I no longer felt inadequate because of the wealth and luxury that surrounded me. I had paid my dues in front of everyone. I belonged.
"Eat then," she advised. "Meet me downstairs around noon and I'll show you my stables."
"Fine," I said aloud. "Thanks!"
She left the room and closed the door softly behind her.
Horses! I loved horses! I would have owned one if I could afford it. Even on my case worker's salary, I would have forfeited whatever luxuries I enjoyed to have a horse again.
I felt an immediate warmth towards Lola. I wanted her to love me as I had wanted Carol to. I wondered whatever happened to Carol after last night's debauch.
But only briefly. Carol was probably still in this great mansion. Suddenly, I wondered about Sam's phone call.
Had he called while I was engaged in my Dating Game? Would I ever know?
While I ate my breakfast, I saw a note on the silver tray. "A Mr. Sam Ratner called. Will call again this afternoon."
Far out, I thought. Sam HAD called. And even though no one had told me about it when it happened, at least they had the decency to tell me now.
This knowledge filled me with security and peace.
Finishing the breakfast, I set the tray carefully on the night table and got out of bed.
Walking into the large sunlit bathroom, I took a warm, welcomed shower and returned naked to the room.
Not wishing to put on my gown from the night before, I selected a blouse and a pair of slacks from the closet and went downstairs.
Lola was waiting for me. She sat in the drawing room, sipping tea. She was dressed in breeches and boots. A yellow blouse covered the top part of her body and she wore a brown velvet hunt cap. I noticed with distaste the bright silver spurs attached to the ankle area of her knee-high boots.
"If you're ready, darling, I'll call for a car," she said.
I smiled my assent as she picked up a phone from the end table and dialed a number.
"We're ready," she said into the mouthpiece, and hung up.
Within a few minutes, a grey liveried chauffer was standing at the entrance to the room.
"Madam is ready?" he asked simply.
Taking me by the elbow, Lola steered me out of the room. Following the chauffer down the marbled steps, we entered the waiting Mercedes.
Once settled into the back seat against the luxurious cushions, I began to look around.
The grounds apparently were quite large, if we had to drive to the stables.
In about four minutes, the car made a left turn and drove silently up to a huge barn surrounded by miles of white fenced paddocks.
As far as the eye could see were horses separated from each other by fences. Each animal looked more healthy and magnificent than the next.
"What do you do with all of them?" I asked Lola.
"They're all thoroughbreds. Some we breed, some we race, some we hunt, and some we show."
"It looks as though you're doing pretty good in all those areas," I answered.
"Not really," Lola answered. "Horses are a losing proposition, money-wise, but they make a great tax dodge. Besides, I love them."
"So do I," I said.
Her face brightened. "Do you ride?"
"I haven't been on a horse in ages. I might be a little rusty, but I rode as a kid."
"Once you've learned, you never forget," Lola said. "Come on inside and we'll find a quiet horse for you to ride on the trails with me."
Inside the barn it was so clean I didn't see one fly.
An elderly black man approached us and tipped his hat "Good morning, Miss Cavort," he said to, Lola. He nodded at me.
"Hello James. Is Bambi still around or did you give her away?"
"No, Madam. She's still here."
"Good. Tack her up for Margo. Prince Charles is ready for me?"
"Yes Ma'am, he is. Very good, Ma'am," and he disappeared down the long aisle into the back part of the barn.
Another groom, much younger than James, and handsome, led a magnificent horse our of the barn and helped 'Lola mount. I watched her ride around at a walk in the ring as I waited for Bambi.
In a few minutes James led out an old mare and helped me mount her. Then I joined Lola in the ring.
"Why don't you trot around a bit to get your legs back," Lola called from across the ring.
"Then we can ride down to the beach."
Nudging the old mare out of her plodding walk with my heels, we were soon trotting slowly around the ring. Though I remembered how to post, my thighs were sore and out of shape. I didn't know if it stemmed from the strenuous sexual activity or from not using the inside of my thigh muscles. Knowing I would really pay for this tomorrow, I threw caution to the wind and asked the mare to canter. It took quite a lot to get her going, but eventually she obeyed and we loped comfortably around the ring.
"Not bad," Lola called.
I slowed the mare to a walk and watched Lola. She was an expert horsewoman. Her horse was quite a handful, yet she rode him effortlessly. Soon she slowed to a walk and we left the ring for the fields that led to the beach.
"Someday I hope to own a horse like that," I told her.
"Oh, you will," she smiled.
"I'd have to save a lot of money," I said ruefully.
"Yes, Charles is an expensive horse. He took a blue in the Garden last year. Naturally that increased his value. He's a hunter," she added.
"How old?" I asked.
"Seven in January," Lola said, patting his neck.
"He sure is beautiful," I said.
"He's yours, if you want him," Lola said suddenly.
I laughed. "You're kidding!"
"Not at all," Lola said, sharply. "I didn't know you liked horses. I'm very pleased that you do. My last husband didn't," she added bitterly.
"Where would I keep him?" I asked Lola, my mind racing.
"You can keep him here. I won't charge you anything for his board. That way," she laughed, "I'll know I'll see you every weekend."
Before I had a chance to say anything else, she sprang away, calling over her shoulder: "Come on! Let's gallop to the ocean!"
I kicked Bambi into a canter in a vain attempt to keep up with her. The field grass turned to sand and the going got slow until we got close to the water. Lola was far ahead of me now, and I knew it was stupid to try and catch up with her. I didn't care. I was enjoying my ride, thrilled with the thought of owning Prince Charles who ran with the speed of light along the edge of the water.
After several miles, Lola pulled up and turned back to join me. Charles was dark with sweat and nervously champing on his bit.
"We'll walk the rest of the way home," Lola said.
As we walked back to the barn, Lola told me about her family, her three husbands, her villa in Europe, her trips all over the world.
I listened enchanted. It must be nice. I wouldn't mind exchanging places with her. Thinking of the week made me remember tomorrow, when I would return to New York, my job, my miserable life.
My stomach sank. I didn't know what Lola had in store for me that afternoon, but I felt she wasn't going to let me return to New York without exacting payment of some sort for this expensive weekend.
As far as I could tell, the house was deserted when we got back. With the exception of one or two shadowy servants, I saw no one. Lola invited me to meet her by the pool and then split for her room. I returned to my room and just as Carol had promised, found a bikini in the bureau in my room. As I slipped the skimpy thing on, I was grateful that Carol had shaved me so carefully.
I thought it was a bit foolish to have a pool so close to the ocean, but looking into its clean, clear depths, free of sharks and seaweed, I was glad. The ocean was nice to look at, but dangerous. The pool was safe and inviting. I did a mediocre dive off the edge and slipped into the turquoise water.
When I surfaced, I saw Lola standing on the edge, nude.
"Why are you wearing a suit, darling?" she asked. "There's no one here. After last night's performance, don't you think your modesty is a little excessive?"
"You're right," I answered, floating on my back.
Lola walked to the diving board and executed a perfect jacknife. She really is an exhibitionist I thought to myself. She doesn't have to work so hard to impress me. I'm impressed!
I decided to get a tan. Pulling myself up on the edge, I left a dripping trail 'on my way to one of the lounge chairs. Closing my eyes, I could hear Lola splashing around in the pool, blowing bubbles.
She had a nice body for a woman her age. Her breasts jutted straight out and her ass was still high and round. Probably never had any kids.
"Do you have any children, Lola?"
"Only my girls," she answered.
"Your girls?" I asked, confused.
"My case workers," she said.
"I don't understand."
"You will," she said calmly. "Later, I'll show you."
She got out of the pool and stretched out in a lounge chair next to mine. Hitting lightly on a little bell that sat on the table separating our two chairs, she asked me if I wanted a drink.
I nodded, my eyes still closed to the sun.
In a few minutes, a silent white-jacketed dark man appeared at the pool.
"Two Vodka Collins, Jacque," Lola told him, "and make a plate of something for us to snack on."
CHAPTER SIX
"Yes, Ma'am," the servant said.
I was amazed that she had no modesty in front of the servant. By why should she? The servants in this house had witnessed every depravity in the book. Lola's nude body was probably the least shocking thing around.
I could feel the icy fluid slide down my throat and hit my empty stomach. Several sips later and a buzz grew in the back of my head.
Jacque returned with a plate of cold turkey sandwiches.
"Another drink, darling?" Lola asked.
I nodded. Lying in the sun, I thought about my new horse. If I worked hard at my riding, I could probably show him in the fall, though not in the Garden.
"How would you like to spend the summer here with me?" Lola asked.
I was flattered. With her money and looks, she could have anyone she wanted, and probably did.
"Can you take time off from your job without losing it?" she continued.
"I could take a leave of absence," I said.
I wondered if this was her way of saying that when she tired of me I would have to return to my miserable life. Would I ever recover from being spoiled after a summer with Lola?
Without thinking, I started to hum: "Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets."
"How true THAT is!" she laughed.
"Come," she coaxed. "If you stay in the sun much longer, you'll be burnt to a crisp."
Together we walked into the coolness of the house and went upstairs. Leading the way, Lola opened a door to the most beautiful bedroom I had ever seen in my life.
Two complete sides of the room were clear glass. The other two sides were mirrored, throwing the ocean all around the room. In the center, was a huge, circular bed with dials on the headboard. The carpeting was whiter than white, like sand. The wood was a rich walnut. And the ceiling was painted blue.
Exotic plants lent green to the room. The chairs were coveted with white canvas and yellow velvet. When Lola flipped a switch, I was surrounded completely with the surf and the music.
"Like it darling?" Lola asked.
I thought that was a stupid question, but I told her I loved it.
She put her arms around my waist and looked into my eyes. Pulling me closer to her, I felt her warm, full tits press against mine, nipple to nipple. Inadvertently I gasped. My arms went around her warm, naked flesh and I moved my hands up and down the smooth expanse of her flawless back. Reaching behind my neck she undid the tie on the top of my bikini. As it fell to the floor, she bent her head to my breasts. Cupping the right one in her hand, she began sucking it. As she sucked, she butted me gently with her head, pushing me towards the bed. I felt the spread "hit me behind the knees before I toppled backwards.
She was sucking my left nipple now. Her tongue made circles that grew larger and larger.
With her mouth still working the top part of my body, her hands reached down to my hips where she tugged the bottom of my bikini off.
I moved my feet and stared as she brought the bikini crotch up to her nose and sniffed it.
"Oh God!" she moaned. "You smell so good!"
My tits were on fire now and I felt that familiar longing for a warm, fat tongue to gobble me between my legs.
I grabbed her head between my hands and pushed it lower and lower. She didn't need much coaxing. With an animal-like cry, she threw my legs high over my head and began licking my clit.
She moved her tongue all over my cunt with fast, furious laps. It seemed as though she couldn't get enough of the taste of me.
She was at my hole now, trying to stick her tongue higher and higher into my cunt. I tried to help her, knowing it would increase both our pleasures.
Pushing her face closer and closer, I moved my hips up and down, around and around.
She grabbed the cheeks of my ass.
"Oh God! she cried in a muffled voice. "I love to eat your cunt! Fuck me in the face, baby!
Fuck me with your cunt!"
I felt myself starting to come and fought against it, wanting to make the moment last as long as I could. I pushed her face away.
Swinging my body around, I sought out her bush with my own tongue.
Her wiry cunt hairs brushed my face as I buried my head between her thighs. Parting her crevice with my tongue, I lapped away like a kitten eating cream.
She rolled her slippery tongue from my cunt to my asshole and back again to my cunt in one great slurping, sliding swing.
Of all the times I had been eaten out in my life, this was the most educated tongue of all!
As I licked and sucked her cunt, I felt as though I would explode from happiness.
This is it! I thought to myself. This is all I want for the rest of my life!
I turned so that I was lying completely on my back, my hands on the fullness of her ass. I buried my face in her magnificent, wet, juicy, dripping cunt.
Here it comes! I could no longer fight against the sensation. I gave myself over to the apex of approaching pleasure. As I did, both our climaxes began, causing us to bounce madly on the mattress. Up and down. Up and down.
Just then... WHAM! We reached the crest and sank slowly back down the other side of contentment.
I lay there, listening to my heart pound, my face still buried between her legs, my arms still around her soft curves.
"Oh Mama!" I told her. "You sure do make your baby happy!"
I disengaged m self slowly and snuggled up to her face. I hugged her body, bringing her tits close to mine. Her eyes were closed, a peaceful smile on her face. At that moment I felt as though I would never look for love again. I had found it in Lola's arms and had come home at last.
That night at seven, Lola and I were having dinner. We were on the first floor in one of several dining rooms. Each one designed to accommodate a certain number of guests.
Obviously, we were in the smallest one. When I say small, don't get me wrong. It was a far cry from a breakfast nook. As a matter of fact, twelve people could have dined comfortably on the heavy Spanish table.
I was enjoying myself hugely. It was amazing how quickly I could get used to living like this. I thought about my hard-working parents. How pleased they had been when they finally found themselves in a position where they could finish the cellar. Here I sat, listening to Lola relate how her family made most of its money running slaves and rum.
Somehow, it just didn't seem fair.
As a guest, I wasn't about to criticize Lola's origins. Despite my background in sociology and my on the job street training, I realized, (with a guilty pang) that I wasn't a revolutionary.
Sam and all my friends down in the Village and the West Side would be ashamed of me, I thought, forking another baby pea in my mouth.
This is how people sell out, I realized. It's easy to want change when you're on the outside. All change really was the desire to be on the inside looking out. Still, all in all, I hadn't become completely -cynical. I did believe in some Utopian society where all humans had an equal chance to realize their potential. But the cream always rose to the top. Even in the so-called socialistic states, there were the rulers and the slaves. I certainly didn't know all the answers, or even some of them. Slicing off another piece of roast beef, I no longer even gave a fuck.
Let all the grimy, bespeckled and pimply kids who studied because they couldn't get sex worry about inequality and revolution. I preferred good wine, music and sex.
You certainly are one hell of a phony bitch, I said to myself. How on earth can you call yourself a social worker? You're nothing more than an opportunist.
Right on, cunt!
Aloud, to Lola, I said: "Are you planning to go to Europe this summer?"
"No, darling. I never go to Europe in the summer. Not if I can help it, anyway. Too many Americans."
Right, I thought to myself. That's when the working class went abroad. Teachers out of school, students, people on vacation. Not people like Lola. Her whole life was a vacation.
"Why," she asked, pouring another glass of wine. "Do you want to go?"
"No," I said. "But you mentioned you had a villa. I was trying to make conversation."
"I go in the Fall," she said. "If you like, you can join me."
At least she planned on knowing me in the fall. I quickly calculated the months: June, July, August, September.
Against my better judgment, I blurted: "I know you can have anyone or anything you want, why me?"
"Who can explain life's mysteries?" she countered.
Why couldn't she ever give me a straight answer?
But then again, an attraction WAS a mystery. Why else did so many people go around saying: "I don't know what he sees in her, or her in him?" etc. It was just that my good luck threw me. It was simply too fantastic to be true.
However, not being a child, I knew that no one got something for nothing. What was the price I would pay?
Loss of freedom? My job did that. It owned me. I gave it my time, my education, and in return it gave me cash. Not very much I had to admit, but it had its other rewards. What did Lola want from me? Surely not just by body! Granted it was good, but I had seen better.
"Why don't you like Susan?" I asked, as a servant carried our plates away.
Lola poured more wine.
"Susan who?"
"Susan. Carol's friend."
"Oh! THAT Susan. Well, she's so ordinary. Her and that perverted kid are a little too much for me. In fact, I don't think I'll ever recover from the exhibition that Samantha put on one weekend with the servants. She spoiled them something fierce."
I didn't bother asking what Samantha had done. It was easy to imagine.
"Did Carol leave last night?"
"I guess so. Someone said they saw her leaving with a young girl. She's a Don Juan and a half, that one!"
I no longer felt jealous about Carol. In fact, Carol seemed shadowy now. Part of my past.
"Is she coming back?" I asked.
"What on earth for?" Lola said. "No darling. Carol has fulfilled her obligation to me. If I need her again I know how to get in touch with her."
"By the way," I said, really pushing now, "What did you mean about your girls, the case workers?"
There was a long, uncomfortable pause.
"You remember everything, don't you?" she asked, rather petulantly.
"Yes," I replied evenly. "I rarely find myself in a position where I black out."
"Well," Lola said, deftly changing the subject, "you certainly blacked out last night!"
"If you had three different cocks shoved up your cunt while you were blindfolded, you might black out too," I shot back.
There was another long silence.
What the fuck is the matter with you, big mouth, I asked myself.
Are you, you little nothing, going to match wits against this lady who has all the cards stacked on her side?
A loud, delighted laugh escaped easily from Lola.
"You ask why I like you?" she asked incredulously. "Do you know how many obsequious, sycophants I'm continuously surrounded with?"
"What are you anyway," she queried. "A Scorpio?"
"As a matter of fact," I answered, surprised at her astuteness, "I am."
"So am I!" she said.
Two Scorpios! The most powerful sign in the zodiac! The most sexual sign. The most perverse, the greatest power-hungry bunch in the world!
I knew from what little reading I had done, that two Scorpios could either be a complete disaster, or a match made in Heaven.
"I would have taken you for a Libra," I said, lying. "For your sense of justice."
"You know," Lola said slowly. "A famous advertising genius once said: "Don't bullshit the bullshitter."
I laughed. "You've got my number, Lola."
"Margo," Lola said earnestly, let's not play games with each other, all right?"
I said nothing.
"You think," she continued, "that because I have all the trappings of great wealth, I have everything. That's not true. There are a couple of things that money can't buy."
"Like what?" I asked doubtfully.
"Like health, happiness and immortality."
"Are you ever going to tell me about the case workers," I asked, hoping to distract her from her ridiculous platitudes, "or are you going to continue to evade the question in true Scorpion fashion?"
"You might not want to know about them," she said quietly.
"I think I can handle it."
"Margo," Lola said patiently. "You are young, you are quite attractive, but you are not super-woman. Don't think that you can handle everything, because you're not infallible."
Cocky with the knowledge that she wanted me, I boldly continued to parry with her.
"What would you be without your money?" I asked.
"That," she said with a smile, "Is something I've never had to discover. When," she continued, "if ever, I'm faced with that particular problem, then I'll deal with it."
She rose from the table.
"We'll have our brandy in the drawing room."
I also rose from the table. Ana, like the outsider that I was, followed her. I liked this room. The walls were covered with books and oil paintings. The fabrics were heavy velvet, and dark. A grand piano sat off to one end, its white keys inviting play. The numerous couches were spongy and comfortable. We sat on a pale green one, and while Lola rang for service, I placed my cigarettes on a beautiful ivory coffee table.
"I think," Lola began, while Jacque returned with a bottle, "to teach you a lesson, I'm going to pursue this case worker thing with you."
"Good," I said. I watched as Jacque poured a sniffer for each of us.
Then, to my surprise, he placed a note alongside my glass.
I picked up the thick bond and read: "A Mr. Ratner called. Will call later."
I read the note with interest. But I was beginning to feel that Sam Ratner and the New York City Department of Welfare were fast fading from my memory.
"Would you mind if I made a call later?" I asked Lola.
"Not at all," she said.
"It's a toll call," I said, revealing my penny pinching hysterical background.
"I'm sure the house can absorb it," she replied with a smile.
I stared at her with renewed interest. The brandy was going to my head, and in my desire for her, and her way of life, I felt I would never tire of her. That is why I continued to parry with her. If she couldn't take me as I really was, what good would it be?
"I love you for giving me Prince Charles," I said.
"I'm sure you'll do him justice," Lola replied.
"I don't want to ruin him."
"Some things deserve to be ruined," Lola said strangely.
I looked at her with surprise.
"Who decides that?" I asked.
"I do," she said.
"But," she added, "Prince Charles isn't one of them."
"Well, what do you mean 'ruined'?" I persisted.
"Perhaps 'ruined' is too strong a word," Lola said carefully. "Some things, some people, deserve to be DETAINED!"
"For what purpose?" I asked.
"For amusement purposes, perhaps," Lola said.
Suddenly she stood.
"Come," she invited. "I want to show you something."
I followed her out of the library into the hallway. Lola pressed a button for the elevator.
While we waited for it, she smiled at me.
"Don't look so pensive!"
"You just confuse me, that's all," I said quickly.
I really was feeling somewhat frightened of this strange, wealthy woman.
The elevator appeared at that moment and we stepped inside. I noticed that Lola pressed the fourth floor button.
The elevator moved upwards slowly. When it stopped, we stepped into the dark corridor.
Lola flipped on a hall light and we walked down a long passageway. Off in the distance, I heard voices.
"Does someone live up here?" I asked.
"This floor has been closed off for years," Lola replied. "But you'll see what I've been using it for."
We were suddenly in front of two ornate doors which Lola opened with a flourish.
I gasped.
Inside the brightly lit room were about fifty girls. They were lying around beds which had been arranged dormitory style. Some were watching one of several color televisions, some were playing ping pong, some were playing pool, some were reading, some were listening to music, some were dancing. It was incredible. They ranged in all shapes, but they were all attractive and approximately my age.
Though ranging in variety from black haired to blondes red heads, etc., all of them were well-built. And, as they were in varying stages of undress, it wasn't too difficult to appreciate their-wonderful, youthful bodies. Several girls, in a darkened corner were making love.
Upon seeing Lola and me at the doorway, all activity stopped. All fell silent, and all waited expectantly.
"Well, here are my girls!" Lola said proudly.
They were all social workers! Brought to her by Carol!
"Haven't any of them been reported missing?" I asked in astonishment.
"Of course. They're probably listed as Missing in Action," Lola said calmly.
She walked into the room. The girls eyed me curiously. What was it, I wondered, that made them fall out of favor and end up here? What misstep would I take before I found myself up here among these MSW's?
"Well," I ventured nervously. "They're a well-educated group."
"Yes," Lola replied, as though we were alone. "They are attractive, well-educated, but totally useless in an environment of wealth. They are middle-class, but they have been educated to move among the poor. They are lost here. But at least they have a home."
I realized with a sudden intake of breath, that my great benefactor, Lola, as beautiful and as wealthy as she was, had one fatal flaw. She was insane!
I knew it. It always happened. Whenever I found someone to relate to, there was always something that marred it. I had dealt with drug addicts, alcoholics, poverty, neuroses, but not insanity. I felt helpless and frightened.
And yet... and YET... I still liked her!
I felt an attunement with her. Maybe it was because she was everything I wanted to be.
Maybe because she had what I wanted. Nevertheless, I didn't feel enough aversion to send me screaming into the night in an effort to escape her madness.
"Would you like to meet them?" she asked.
I looked around the room. Every girl's eyes bore into mine. They seemed to be telegraphing the same message: GET US OUT OF HERE!
I knew that I could not have a lasting relationship with Lola. My sympathies went to the girls.
"I would love to," I answered.
Lola rattled off their names. There were girls from Europe, South America, Asia, Africa and all over the USA. It seemed incredible to me that they had fallen into the clutches not of Lola, but the New York Department of Welfare.
"All these girls," Lola continued, "were sent to investigate Susan's claim. I paid Carol five hundred dollars for each girl."
No wonder Carol and Susan never cared if they collected welfare. They lived off the money Lola gave them!
"What are you going to do with them?" I asked.
Lola laughed. "To tell you the truth, I haven't given it much thought!"
"Haven't their parents tried to find them?" I asked.
"Have yours?" Lola shot back.
I knew from personal experience that most girls who came to New York did so against their parents' wishes to begin with. How many of us had left our homes in mid-America with these words echoing in our ears: "If you choose to live in that corrupt city, don't come home. We disown you. You are no longer one of us!"
"Why do you keep them?" I asked.
"They amuse me," she said.
I looked at all the girls. They would have amused me too. Especially on this secluded estate.
"You have your own harem," I ventured.
"Exactly," Lola said. "Women talk about being liberated. I AM LIBERATED! I have an inexhaustible supply of money, mobility and sexual partners."
She was happy that I grasped her situation.
"Do you see one that pleases you? We could take her with us tonight and amuse ourselves."
I looked at all the faces staring at me. Each one seemed to say: Take Me! It wasn't that they wanted to be part of our games, it was a means to escape. I choose a girl who seemed to be the leader.
She seemed separated from the rest by some ineffable quality that singled her out. It was probably a matter of genes. She was about five foot eight, with black hair, green eyes, good build, and about twenty-five. Her eyes riveted with mine and I felt drawn to her. She reminded me of myself. It would be like making love to a mirror.
The other girls seemed pleased by my decision. They smiled carefully. Their eyes seem to tell me that if I made the wrong move, I would find myself in their position.
"Well, girls," Lola called to the rest of them. "Jacque will be up at ten for bed check. I'll be up tomorrow to discuss your grievances and to see if I want to do anything about them."
The three of us left the big room. Lola closed the massive doors behind us and rang for the elevator.
When we arrived in her gorgeous bedroom, Lola went into her bathroom and Gladys and I looked at each other.
Finally Gladys spoke.
"When did Carol bring you?"
"Saturday night," I said. I couldn't believe it was only yesterday.
"How long have you been here?" I asked. I spoke quickly, fearing any second Lola would appear.
"I was the first," Gladys answered. "I've been here two years."
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Two years!" I croaked. "Why did she decide to keep you?"
"She didn't like the way I rode Charles," Gladys said, lighting a cigarette.
So that was it! Lola would offer each girl a horse. If they didn't do it justice, they were banished to the fourth floor. My heart jumped. I dreaded riding Charles in front of Lola.
"What did you do wrong?" I asked.
"Well, I don't have much of a background with horses," Gladys said. "I'm from the Bronx. I failed her test completely. I mounted him from the right side which is the wrong side to get on a horse."
"What's it like on the fourth floor?" I asked. I liked Gladys. She was so direct.
"It's not bad," she answered, blowing smoke out through her small nostrils. "Our movements are restricted. We're really nothing more than her concubines. But we try to amuse ourselves and talk of escaping. It's hard. Believe me! We can't even seduce the servants. They're all faggots!"
Suddenly the light under the bathroom door went out. In a minute Lola would appear.
"If you can ride Prince Charles over a series of jumps," Gladys whispered, "You'll be able to stay with her. Until she tires of you," she added hurriedly.
"What about the police?" I asked.
Gladys gave a short, bitter laugh. "What are you going to tell them? She's got them all in' her pocket out here. You'd be better off trying to get out of here and forgetting the whole thing."
"Gosh," I said.
"Don't worry," Gladys whispered, putting her hand on my arm. "THIS IS A REAL BREAK-YOU INVITING ME DOWN HERE LIKE THIS. It's all work out."
I wanted to talk more with her, but Lola entered the room. She smelled fantastic and was dressed in some sort of negligee trimmed with ostrich feathers.
"Ah! I see you two are getting to know each other!" she cried delightedly, looking from Gladys to myself.
"That's nice," she continued. "I've always wanted my girls to get along with each other. It saves so much time and trouble."
I wondered what trouble meant. Sadistic faggot guards, keeping the girls in line?
I no longer liked Lola. I liked Gladys more. Perhaps the two of us could overpower Lola and free the other girls. All we had to do was get Lola in a compromising position.
Overpower Lola, take the mansion, free the girls. I was drunk with the idea. Who knew where it would lead? I was willing to take the chance. I was surprised that Lola had allowed herself to be placed in this position. But she didn't know I was an enemy.
Apparently she didn't see the stupidity of showing me her operation. Now I was on my guard. Did she, like so many rich people, think that money was everything? Shit, I'd rather have my freedom and my measly paycheck any day of the week than stay here and put her up with her shit!
She lay back expectantly on the bed, her ostrich feathers spread around her lovely body and head. Her eyes were closed and I looked at Gladys who lay on the other side of her.
Gladys nodded to me, sensing my feelings to such a high degree, I had all I could do to prevent myself from reaching across Lola's body and crushing her in my arms.
Lola spread both her arms carelessly on each side of her bed. I knew we were expected to lie in each one. And, after Gladys slipped out of her clothes, we did. She lay on the right and I lay on the left. Lola encircled us with a sigh of contentment.
"Gladys and Margo," she murmured. "Who ever would have guessed?"
Gladys and I exchanged sly looks.
"Lola," Gladys said, snuggling up to her, "you're so beautiful!"
I almost threw up, but Lola smiled.
I knew Lola wasn't stupid, but then again, maybe she was! Some people's egos were such that they couldn't even conceive of anyone not appreciating them. There was no doubt about it. Lola had a Messiah Complex.
Gladys was kissing Lola now. A long, soul-searching deep kiss. Lola's body squirmed with mounting desire.
Gladys shot a quick look at me. It told me to get on with the rest of Lola.
Although I no longer desired Lola, I knew that whatever act of love I was to perform now would be a political one.
I moved down towards Lola's ample breasts. Pushing aside the ostrich-feathered nightgown, I planted my lips firmly on her luscious, tits. With circular sucking motions I moved my mouth around and around the pink-tipped flesh.
Lola murmured as loud as she could in a muffled fashion, her mouth still covered by Glady's searching lips.
While Gladys continued to occupy Lola's mouth, I left her breasts and moved down to 'her navel. Now, Gladys moved to Lola's breasts. Lola was clearly digging all this attention.
She didn't have to do anything. Just lay back on her bed and allow herself to be caressed by two love slaves.
Sticking my tongue into the little indentation of her belly button, I licked away until I felt Lola's hand on my head pushing me still lower.
I adjusted my body, so that my head went lower towards her cunt. Meanwhile, I reached out with my right hand towards Gladys and felt her up.
Squeezing Gladys's youthful flesh, I wanted suddenly to kill Lola and really get it on with Gladys. But I knew when the time came to get rid of Lola, Gladys would let me know. No wonder she was the leader of the girls. I could feel myself lost in the grip of her magnetic power. I wanted to please her and I awaited my orders.
Flicking my tongue away, enjoying the taste of Lola's cunt and her reaction to my frenzied efforts, I buried my face in the little mound of pubic hairs that were split right down the center of her cunt.
Despite myself, I felt desire well between my own legs. As I gently parted her cunt lips and inserted my tongue against her clit, all animosity towards her disappeared.
Love conquers all, I thought. I opened my eyes long enough to see Gladys begin her trek downwards which I knew would end with me.
This gave me renewed energy, and as I lapped away, flicking Lola's clit up and down and from side to side, I tried to match her rhythm with my own. I placed my hands under her plump ass and asked her to fuck me with her cunt.
Meanwhile, Gladys had swung her body around so that we met, lips to lips, over Lola's pussy.
Grasping me behind my head, she brought her mouth down on mine in the most devastating kiss.
"You're really my kind of person," she whispered. "Don't worry about a thing!" - Her lips left mine then, and fought playfully with me for Lola's cunt.
Lola was enjoying this battle for her juices and thrust her hips back and forth from Gladys's mouth to mine. She was unaware that Gladys and I were doing our own number.
Then, Gladys let me have all of Lola's twat. She bent her head underneath Lola's ass and began licking out her hole.
I knew Lola wouldn't be able to sustain this kind of stimulation much longer and wondered what we should do, when suddenly her body started shuddering. As her hips began bucking around, Gladys produced a length of rope.
Just then I lost my appetite for Lola. With a deft movement, Gladys whipped the rope around her throat, strangling the gagging Lola into unconsciousness.
With a huge, spasmodic thrust, brought on by her sexual excitement and the pain, Lola trembled into nothingness.
Then it was over. Lola was completely unconscious.
Now what?
Gladys unceremoniously pushed Lola's inert body off the bed. It landed with an abject plop on the floor.
"Now," she murmured. "It's just you and me!.' My excitement for Gladys overrode any morality that I felt about what happened to Lola.
Who was I to moralize? I was an accomplice.
Throwing all my Judeo-Christian background to the wind, I met Gladys's kiss as fiercely as she met mine.
I grabbed her black hair. Its texture was the same as my own! I reached for her breasts?
they were identical! I quickly swung my body around so that I could meet her cunt when she met mine. And she met it with the same sort of hunger that I met hers.
This is fucking heaven, I thought wildly! This is fucking it!
I tried to stick my tongue as far up into her cunt as my anatomical structure would allow.
She was doing the same thing to me. I'm happy, I kept saying to myself. Fucking eat me!
She returned everything I gave her tenfold, so that the two of us were wrapped up into some sort of orgasmic fury that knew no past, no future, only NOW!
Then I felt it coming. As much as I tried to ward off what would be the end, I was powerless. With a huge shriek of happiness and gratitude, we both came, panting, wet and happy all over Lola's bed.
We were sober now. Coming out of our mutual stupor, both of us were not only locked together by our mutual sexual pleasure, but also by Lola's presence.
As I disengaged myself from Gladys's embrace, I met her face with a kiss.
"What now, darling?" I asked.
"Don't worry about a thing," she whispered for the third time that evening. "We've planned on this for years!"
"Do you have a way or a plan on how to stash Lola away for awhile?" I asked.
"Oh sure," she said, getting out of bed. "Everything will be cool," she continued, "if the servants don't come around and fuck everything up."
"Come on," she said. "Help me."
She was tugging with Lola's inert form. I jumped out of bed and began to help her.
"What are you going to do with her?"
"I hope you have a strong stomach," Gladys said. "Because if she doesn't come around pretty soon, we're going to have to revive her ourselves!"
I got queasy at the idea.
"We'll need a few knives to terrorize her when she comes to," Gladys said. "You'd better get them out of the kitchen while I take her to the fourth floor."
Holy shit, I thought. What if I got caught?
Bringing her to the fourth floor was a good idea.
"Let me take her pulse," I suggested. I lifted Lola's wrist. It was weak, but beating away.
Following Gladys's directions, I made my way to the kitchen. Turning the light on, I saw the knives neatly displayed next to the can opener.
Just as I was about to take them and leave, a voice said: "Hello Margo, may I help you?"
I turned to see Jacque, standing there in his nightgown.
"Oh, that's all right," I mumbled. "I just wanted a glass of orange juice."
"I'm surprised Madam didn't ring," he answered suspiciously. "She never lets her guests wander around the house at night."
"I didn't want to disturb her," I answered weakly.
"I will bring it up for you," Jacque said.
"No!" I screamed. "Really Jacque, it's all right. I can get it."
"If you say so," he said, very miffed and put out that I should usurp his function.
"I'll be out of here in a minute," I replied.
"Good night," he said shortly.
Good night yourself, you dumb sonofabitch.
If he had made the trek to our room, he would have seen Lola. He should be glad he didn't pursue this conversation. I took the knives and left the kitchen.
Back in Lola's room, I told Gladys what had happened.
"That's nothing," she said. "Well probably be in for a lot more than that before we all get out of here."
Together we carried Lola up to the fourth floor. The girls met us with shouts and yells.
"Quiet!" Gladys ordered.
We took Lola to one corner of the room and tied her up. Then we gagged her mouth.
In a few minutes the job was completed.
One of the girls volunteered to make the trip downstairs to Lola's liquor cabinet to get champagne so we could celebrate properly. She was sent off with warnings to watch out for the servants. She returned in fifteen minutes, struggling with a case.
While the girls celebrated, Gladys spoke to me: "It's one thing to overcome Lola," she said. "But it will be another project to get all these girls out of here. What with the servants around."
I nodded.
"What we have to do," she continued, "is to get all the servants, overpower them and make our escape."
"Sounds like a terrific idea to me."
I knew there were four servants in the household. With fifty girls it didn't seem like a difficult task.
"I'm glad we didn't have to kill Lola," I told Gladys. "Otherwise we'd have a lot of explaining to do."
Gladys shot me a look of incredulity.
"Are you kidding?" she snapped. "Do you know how many girls Lola killed mentally? All of us upon on the fourth floor are those who chose not to argue with her."
"I'm sorry," I murmured. I didn't want to anger Gladys.
"In fact," Gladys continued. "If we have to kill all her dumb servants, we'll do that."
I had really gotten into something. It was too big for me to handle mentally.
"What about her parties?" persisted. "Lola is not exactly a person whose disappearance is going to go unnoticed like some bowery bum. She has friends, contacts, a life style that's pretty public."
"I know all that," Gladys replied glumly. "It's what really depressed us all these months we've plotted her overthrow. We'd like to live here in the mansion, enjoying all the things she denied us, except when one of us caught her fancy."
"Well, what exactly are your plans then," I asked.
I felt better seeing that Gladys could talk like a rational person, despite the fact that she had so cold-bloodedly knocked out Lola, "Our main plans are to get out of here," j Gladys said. "But we want some retribution too.
What time do you have?"
It was only ten o'clock. Two hours before midnight, Monday, my ordinary life.
"There are only four servants," Gladys said. "The girls have rehearsed their roles so well that I think I can have them dispatched at once."
I started to say something, but she silenced me with a kiss.
"Let me handle this, will you?" she asked.
"But," I protested. "Most of the girls are drunk!"
After a case of champagne, no one in the room looked even remotely sober. It had been too much. All the waiting, the hoping, and now this. Freedom, at whatever price, had been too heady.
; "The detention of Lola," a tall blonde stunner suddenly said loudly, "is the triumph of the working class over the useless upper-class."
I had forgotten that this was a room full of social workers. Most of them were more keenly aware of the inequities of the social system. Naturally Lola's confinement would be viewed as a point for our side versus theirs.
Gladys walked to the center of the room and stood on a bed. Holding her glass full of champagne high, she announced: "THERE ARE FOUR LACKEYS THAT HAVE TO BE TAKEN CARE OF. They stand between us and our freedom. Who will take up the sword of liberty and fix their asses?"
Immediately, everyone was crying out: "Me! Me!"
I even found myself chiming in! But Gladys gave me a little smile and shook her head.
"You've done your part, my friend," she said.
She quickly singled out four girls and told them to overpower the servants, tie them up and leave them in a room on the third floor until further notice.
"On your way back," she added. "Bring another case!"
The girls all raised their fists.
"Good luck!" Gladys shouted after them.
While the rest of us sat down to await their return, I asked Gladys what would happen if Jacque came on his rounds for bed check.
"That would be the best possible thing! We're waiting for him right now!"
Then she asked me again what time it was.
I told her. "Good," she said. "He'll be here in a few minutes."
"All right girls," she called aloud. "Everyone in bed! Put your glasses down for a few minutes if you can bear too, and we'll really have something to celebrate."
I climbed into bed with Gladys, wishing that we weren't waiting for Jacques' appearance, but that we would have time to make love. In about five minutes, Jacques appeared.
Brusquely breaking into the room, he threw the lights on.
While he stood in the center, counting heads, I tried not to look as two girls, stationed behind the massive doors, approached him from behind. They lassoed him and he fell groaning in a heap in the center of the room.
As soon as she saw Jacques incapacitated, Gladys ordered him disposed of in the same way that Lola had been. Several girls complied and I thought vaguely of Charles Manson and the power he had held over his girls.
Manson, was, I knew from newspaper accounts, a Scorpio.
At eleven, the other girls returned with the news that the house was completely liberated.
Fortunately, we were on a large estate. Had we been in a housing development, the police would have been there in a shot. The loud rejoicing, the raucous music, the popping of champagne corks was just too much noise to escape unnoticed.
But here, on this lonely stretch of beach it went undetected.
"Happy?" Gladys asked me, her green eyes bright with the champagne, power, and hew new freedom.
"Very," I answered, thinking also of the horse.
"You know," I continued. "I was just thinking about the stable. Does the help live there or what?"
"Yes," she replied, also concerned. "But if you remember, you were driven there. It's quite a distance from her. I don't think they could hear anything."
"Oh," I said.
"Why, is something troubling you?"
"To tell the truth, I really did want that horse, Prince Charles."
"Let me tell you something," Gladys said earnestly. "I've always wanted to form a lesbian country. I think we've studied Lola's operation and lifestyle enough to notice just how long we can get away with living here."
Seeing my long face, she went on. "Even if it's only a week, imagine what kind of a week it will be?"
"Gladys," I said firmly, taking a deep breath. "I think you know that I like you. Very much," I added. "But I hope you are also aware of the consequences of what you are doing. I don't want to see you hurt."
"Honey!" Gladys exclaimed in amusement. "I can appreciate how you feel. But you have only left your straight life a couple of days ago. Try and place yourself in our position. Most of us have been here going on two years."
"Do you honestly think," she continued, "that anything you have to say could possibly apply to us?"
"Maybe not in the long run," I countered evenly. "But you can bet that anyone coming upon this scene now, like the police for instance, are going to view it with the same mentality that I possess."
"What do you mean?" Gladys asked, her eyes narrowing.
"Who do you think is going to judge you? Some tribunal from the isle of Lesbos?" I shouted.
No sooner had Gladys struck me fiercely across the face than she was apologizing.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart, really I am," she said. 'It's just that you were beginning to sound like a social worker!"
"But I am a social worker! And so are the rest of you," I pointed out.
"You're one hundred percent right," Gladys cried. "That's why we need you so much.
Yours is the voice of reason in our artificially induced madness!"
I was beginning to doubt whether or not their madness was artificially induced. But who was I to judge? I hadn't been locked up for two years. But I might be if the situation turned around and the servants and Lola got free.
"Okay," I said. "Let's not fight amongst ourselves. I think that the servants should be kept in one room, totally secured, and that Lola should be brought in here to amuse us for a change."
"Great idea," Gladys concurred. She sent ten girls out of the room to check on the servants and she ordered three others to bring Lola back into our room.
When the three girls returned with Lola, I could hardly believe the change in her. Her face was puffy and swollen. Her nightgown with its ostrich feathers was ripped and torn. Her makeup was smeared. Suddenly she looked her age.
The girls made a big circle out of their beds and placed a chair in the center. They placed Lola on the chair.
"Bring me a bottle of champagne," Gladys ordered.
She snatched the bottle out of the girl's hand, then, popping the cork deftly, poured the contents on top of Lola's head.
The bubbly golden fluid ran down Lola's face and onto her nightgown.
"What...?" she gagged, coming around. "What's going oh here?"
She glanced around the room and tried to get up, but her arms were behind her back and her hands were securely tied with the ropes.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Rage, hatred and frustration marred her features as her eyes narrowed with impotence.
She recognized with incredulity her unusual position.
"I demand that you untie me right this instant!" she bellowed, still as cocky and bold as ever.
"Get fucked you old bat." Gladys laughed. "We thought you'd like to see how it feels to be a prisoner in your own house for a change."
The other girls were laughing and nudging each other in. glee, yet trying to be quiet, so that they wouldn't miss any of the action.
"As a matter of fact," Gladys continued. "I think you have quite a bit to atone for. A lot to explain and a lot of retribution to make."
Lala kicked out with her feet in a pitiable attempt to reach Gladys.
Gladys laughed again. Then, walking up to Lola, she hauled off and slapped her across the face.
My own face stung with the memory of getting slapped by Gladys. For a brief instant, I felt sorry for Lola.
"Don't bruise her up too much," I cautioned Gladys. "She won't be able to talk at all. And that's what we want her to do. Talk to her. Find out what makes her tick when you take her money away."
"You're right," Gladys said, shooting me a glance of approval. "And taking her money away is a number one priority."
Even Lola looked somewhat happy that I had spoken. At least I had been able to talk Gladys out of beating the shit out of her.
"Where are my servants," Lola asked in a much less demanding voice. "They're prisoners of ours in another room," Gladys said. "They cannot come to help you. The mansion is ours. Which reminds me," she continued, turning to look at several girls on the bed, "someone should be watching to see if anyone comes down the driveway."
But no one wanted to go. It was too much fun staying here in the room and watching Lola get put through the wringer.
"All right," Gladys said. "You'll have to take turns watching. I know you don't want to go, but it has to be done. Everyone takes fifteen minutes watching the driveway."
She looked around the room.
"Phyllis and Sally, you two go first."
Reluctantly, the two girls got off their bed and left the room.
"Make sure the front gate is locked and that if anyone does want to come here they have to ring the bell first," she called after them.
Then she turned her attention back to Lola.
"I'll tell you right up front Lola, some of the things I want. Not only for myself, but for every girl in here. And unless these demands are met, I'm not even going to consider cutting you loose and letting you go back to your way of life."
"First," she began, lighting a cigarette. "We expect to be paid for all the time we were away from our jobs. Time and a half for the sixteen hours a day over the eight we could have worked. Weekends included. I've already figured it out, and frankly darling Lola, what I want is fifty thousand dollars per girl."
She let that sink in for awhile.
Not only was Lola in a state of shock, but so were all the girls.
Lola gasped. "Why you must be out of your mind!"
"Look," Gladys said, her voice getting ugly. "Just LOOK you rotten sonofabitch, do you mean to sit there and tell me that you can throw that freak Carol a lousy five hundred dollars for each of us, take away our fucking livlihoods, our families, our friends, our very lives, and tell me that fifty thousand dollars is too much? If I didn't want you around long enough to sign those checks, I'd break every fucking bone in your body right now! In fact, I still may end up doing it. Margo, or no Margo!"
Boy! Suddenly I understood Gladys perfectly!
She was one hundred percent right. Not me. What the hell DID Lola think she was anyway? These girls had careers! They had studied hard to become social workers. What right did Lola have, what right did her MONEY have to deprive them of everything, other than food and shelter and unlimited sex? To think that I could have very easily been relegated to the fourth floor for some infraction that displeased Lola brought me new fury. I walked over to her.
"And I want to tell you something else, Lola. As much as I love horses, as much as I can't afford to buy one right now, you can take Prince Charles and shove him up your fucking ass!"
She just looked at me, but I felt better for saying it.
However, my speech brought a laugh of recognition and a loud cheer from the rest of the girls.
Gladys, sensing the change in mood, became playful.
"I'll tell you what, Lola. Seeing that for the past two years you treated us like little more than your sexual playthings, I think the tables have turned now and it's our turn to play with you."
"What do you say girls?" she called to the crowd.
There was applause, crazy applause, then chanting: "Come on Lola, do this, do that! Do this! Do that!" they chanted, clapping their hands at the same time.
Gladys must have felt the crowd was getting out of hand. She indicated that she wanted complete silence.
"Not only are you going to have to sign each girl a check for fifty thousand dollars, you are also going to have to perform whatever sexual treat each girl demands. And you are going to call Carol and tell her to come out here. You are not to say anything to Carol on the phone that could indicate anything out of the ordinary, and you are to give the keys of one of your limos to one of our girls, who will drive into the city and pick Carol up."
Suddenly she stopped and looked at me. "You'll have to go, Margo. Most of these girls have been here too long. I'm afraid that when they get into a car and get a taste of freedom they might not come back. You've only been here since last night. And I know you'll go, because I'm going to tell you something else. You don't deserve fifty thousand dollars, but I do think you deserve Prince Charles. I'm going to have Lola sign the horse's papers over to you."
"Thanks," I said to Gladys. "But do I have to go right now?"
"What time is it?" Gladys demanded.
"Eleven fifteen," one of the girls called out.
"How can I make Carol get into the car?" I asked suddenly. "If she sees me behind the wheel won't she get suspicious?"
Gladys looked narrowly at Lola. "Lola will tell her that you're driving. That you wanted to do it because you thought it would be a lark." Lola said nothing.
"Won't you, Lola?" Gladys asked sharply.
This time Lola nodded dumbly. Then she spoke. She sounded very old. Beaten.
"You girls are asking me to sign checks worth a quarter of a million dollars. You're asking me to perform sexually with all fifty of you. You're asking me to sign over a ten thousand dollar horse. What are you going to do if I refuse your ridiculous demands?"
"Is your life so cheap?" Gladys raged. "Because that's what it would be worth sweetheart, after we throw you in the fucking ocean. Now, let's make that phone call."
One of the girls brought an extension phone from downstairs and plugged it into an empty socket. Gladys dialed, just to make sure that Lola wouldn't pull any tricks and speak in a code to someone who might come there with the police.
"Hello, Carol?" Lola croaked, trying to sound bright and bubbly. "Look darling, something's come up and... no I don't have a cold. How sweet of you to ask! Anyway, honey, I'm sending Margo back for you in one of the limos... well, she thought it would be a kick to drive one... well, anything she wants is fine with me!" (She shot me a look of hatred.) "I'd like to talk with you about more money for yourself and a new plan, okay? See you later then. Ciao!"
"You should have been an actress," Gladys said. But I could see she was pleased by Lola's performance.
"All right, I think we'll start first with the checks. No, make it the horse. After all, Margo's going off to earn him right now. Where's the checkbook?"
"Downstairs in the safe."
"What's the combination?"
"I don't know."
Glady's face twisted again as she hauled off and smacked Lola. "Maybe this'll help you remember."
"Twenty-six, fourteen, sixty-seven," Lola said thickly.
"Okay," Gladys said, "Kim, go down and get the checkbook. And don't forget Prince Charles' papers."
I went downstairs with Kim. If I hurried, I would be back from the city in time to witness the really good part: Lola performing on all fifty girls.
If she wasn't dead from getting slapped around by Gladys, she'd probably die of exhaustion.
In a short while, I was on the Long Island Expressway headed back to the city. I was grateful for the ride as it gave me my first chance to be alone since Friday. Time enough to review the events of the weekend in my mind. Time to try and make some sense out of the chaos. But that was impossible. How could I make something rational out of events that were irrational?
It even crossed my mind to keep right on driving the limo to my apartment, throw my things in the large back seat and split to California. Lola would probably never get a chance to report the car as stolen anyway. But several things ruled this plan out of my mind. I was too eager and curious to see what the outcome would be. Besides, I really wanted Prince Charles, and I could hardly wait to get back to the mansion to see if Lola would really sign the horse over to me along with a check to pay for his upkeep for a year.
Knocking on Susan's door, I was again seized with the desire to leave when no one answered immediately. But just as I was about to turn and walks down the long flight of stairs, the door did open, and there was Samantha.
"Hi, Margo!" she cried, really pleased. "Are you going to stay overnight with us?"
"No honey," I replied smiling. "I'm not. Is Carol here?"
"Come in," Samantha said. "Have a seat on the couch. She's in the bedroom with my mommy."
As she went to get Carol, and as I sat on the couch, my mind filled with wonder. It didn't really seem possible that only two days ago I had sat on this couch and had my first overt homosexual experience. With TWO women, no less!
Having spent my most recent time in much more opulent surroundings, the apartment looked shabbier than ever. But of course it had to. I wondered what they did with all the money that Carol got from Lola? At five hundred dollars a girl, fifty girls must have salted them quite a neat little nest egg.
Suddenly, I heard a loud slap and Carol's harsh voice.
"I said pack your, shit, chick! We've got enough now to split, and if Lola doesn't come up with something better than what we've had, that's exactly what we're going to do. I don't trust that bitch at all! Especially with her sending that Margo creep here in one of her limos!"
I could hear little whimperings and figured that was Susan. Then whisperings. That would be Samantha telling Carol I was here. Sure enough, in a few minutes she walked into the living room, all smiles.
"Having a great time out at the old lady's?"
she asked.
"It's more than I ever expected," I replied, "and I'd like to thank you for inviting me to her party."
"Well, she must really dig you," Carol said. "She never lets any of the other girls I introduced her to take her limos!" I laughed easily. If Carol only knew what awaited her back at the mansion, she wouldn't be standing here all smiles. But then again, Carol was no fool. The conversation I overheard her having with Susan proved that.
Riding back to the estate wasn't too bed. We played the radio, sang, and Carol made drinks for both of us. But mostly it was inane chitchat. I knew Carol felt something was up, and it was all I could do to maintain the light conversation. I praised Lola highly, so that she would never suspect my true feelings. In fact, whenever I did praise Lola, Carol never actually agreed, she would just smile strangely.
In about an hour we were pulling up the driveway. I saw one figure disappear from a lighted window and knew that whoever was watching had gone to tell Gladys that we were back.
I glanced at Carol to see if she too had noticed, but if she had, she gave no indication.
She probably didn't, I thought to myself, because she's not looking for someone at the window like I am.
Then my adrenalin started racing. I could barely imagine what Gladys had in store for Carol. My God, Carol was responsible for bringing all those angry girls into the house and now she would be at the mercy of all fifty of them.
Incredibly enough, Lola answered the door. She had cleaned herself up and kept the lights low, so that she didn't look too bad. Just very tired "All the servants are in bed," she said by way of explanation to Carol.
She led Carol out of the entranceway, and, as I wondered if she was taking her to the fourth floor, four girls suddenly appeared behind them. Jumping on both of them, they tied Lola and Carol up with ropes. Then, ignoring their struggles, they dragged them to the elevator.
Lola didn't say anything, but Carol fought like a lion caught in the hunter's net. She swore, she screamed, she kicked out, she tore at the knots, all to no avail. I had to admit I rather enjoyed seeing the big, powerful Carol helpless.
"You rotten cunt," she shouted at me. "When I get out of here, IH fucking KILL you!"
Then the elevator doors closed behind them and it was silent again downstairs, t decided to walk the four flights. I was growing sleepy and I felt the exercise would get the old heart pumping again.
By the time I got back upstairs into the dormitory, both Lola and Carol were tied securely into two chairs in the center of the room. Both were nude.
Gladys looked up when I entered.
"Good work, Margo!" she said.
"Did you get the checks?" I asked her.
"Yes, and this is for you."
She handed me the papers from the Jockey Club that Lola had signed, turning Prince Charles over to me. In addition, she handed me a check to cover transporting the horse out of here and enough money to cover the horse's board for a year.
"Thanks a lot, Gladys," I said in gratitude.
I selected a soft bed with a nice view of the coming events and sat down to watch.
It certainly was a Kangaroo Court.
"First," Gladys said, "We're going to have a contest to see who has the longest tongue.
Carol or Lola!"
The girls clapped delightedly.
Gladys walked up to Carol and demanded: "Open your mouth, bitch."
Carol clamped her mouth shut, gritting her teeth.
"I said open your mouth," Gladys repeated calmly.
She knew all the power was on her side, so she didn't lose her temper as easily as she had before, I noticed. She had the ultimate hand, she was just biding her time.
"Okay," she said easily. "We'll have to open it for you!"
She snapped her fingers, and one of the girls gave her a cigarette lighter and a pincer-like kitchen utensil.
Flipping the top of the lighter calmly, she placed the hot flame under Carol's nose.
"OOOOWWWWW!!!!" Carol screamed.
The moment she opened her mouth, Gladys snatched her tongue between the pincers.
"Bring the tape," she snapped.
Someone produced a small ruler and Gladys carefully measured Carol's tongue by rudely sticking the stick down her throat so that Carol began gagging.
"Almost five inches!" she announced triumphantly. "Not bad!"
Lola didn't have to be asked twice. She obediently stuck her tongue out like a child going to the doctor and said: "AHHHH!"
"Three and one half inches," Gladys said. "Very ordinary. I guess the one thing that made you so special Lola, was your money, right?"
Lola didn't answer. She just glared at Gladys.
The change in Lola was incredible. At least to me. Within twenty-four hours I had seen her go from a worldly, sophisticated, wealthy, attractive grand lady to a trembling, homely, fearful, nervous wreck. To think that I could have entertained thoughts of spending the rest of my life with her struck me as so absurd now, that for once in my life I understood what the maturing process meant. Growing up, and growing old, could mean growing wiser.
Wiser to our own failings of perception, anyway.
"Well, there's no question about who has the longest tongue," Gladys continued. "Now we'll see who has the longest clit!"
No need to bring the cigarette lighter out to persuade this time! Carol's legs shot apart so fast, she practically kicked Lola out of her chair.
Even from where I sat on the bed I could see Carol's gigantic clit jutting out between the black hairs of her bush. It looked like something alive, something with a separate life all its own, with its angry red and swollen color.
Gladys knelt down and stuck the ruler between Carol's legs.
"Four inches!" she cried out again.
She repeated the same measuring process on Lola, who only managed to muster up one inch.
"Now for tits!" Gladys called. Lola easily the more shapely and round the two, won this hands down with a thirty-six C bust. Carol's figure was truly boyish, and she measured barely thirty inches. I think even Samantha had bigger tits than Carol.
"Okay, all the physical measurements are in. Remind you of your own parties?" she asked Lola sarcastically.
"My parties had a lot more class!.' Lola shot out suddenly, to everyone's amazement.
"Well, we only learned from you baby," Gladys countered. "You're the Emily Post of perversion, sweetheart. Just look at your pupils!"
And she waved her arm grandly around the room.
Lola said nothing.
"I think," Gladys continued, "that seeing it has always been Carol making love to us, that we ought to make love to her tonight. I'll need about twenty volunteers."
"Me! Me!", the voices cried out. Gladys selected twenty girls. She told them to tie Carol spread-eagled on one of the larger beds.
I watched fascinated as Carol, always the giver of sexual pleasure, and therefore the controller, now lay helpless, waiting to be assaulted by twenty electrifying tongues.
Three or four girls positioned themselves around her head so that they could take care of her mouth, her ears, her neck, her hair, even her eyes.
Two positioned themselves around her arms. Two more assigned themselves a breast.
More still sought out her stomach. Several others went for her cunt, her ass and her legs.
Finally two girls took their place at her toes.
The room grew very silent. The girls seem to be waiting for their cue from Gladys. Beads of sweat appeared on Carol's forehead.
"Okay, my lovelies," Gladys called, sounding oddly like the old Lola, "love her to death!.' Like well-trained bees hovering over a succulent flower, the girls began to suck the nectar from Carol's body.
I had never seen so many flickering tongues in my entire life and watched, growing aroused at the sight of these many sensuous tongues lapping away at Carol.
She writhed, she moaned, she struggled, but they kept at it without mercy. The girls on the tits had managed to excite what little erectile tissue lay beneath so that even as small as they were, they pointed upwards. Her belly heaved and ebbed with the probing deep within her belly button. The inside of her thighs grew moist with all that licking, and her own gigantic pussy was bucking so that her enormous clit jutted out so much it appeared as though the girl who was licking it was actually giving her a blow-job.
For a moment I felt almost jealous. My God, what sensations must have been coursing through her long, lean frame!
But Carol seemed very uncomfortable getting eaten as she was. It looked as though she was fighting the waves of pleasure that must have washed through her body. She groaned and moaned while the girls kept up their tortuous pleasure. Some of them started reaching out with their arms to grab at their companions, squeezing tits and ass, fingering cunt holes and sneaking in a quick suck. Then, the girl who was licking Carol's eyelids left her station and returned with a huge dildo. Strapping it expertly in place on her body, she mounted Carol and sought to penetrate her.
"No!" Carol screamed. "Not that! No! Oh my God! It hurts! Stop it! I'm afraid! Don't!"
But the girl, with a maniacal fervor pumped away as a gasp went up from the crowd. The sheets were becoming wet and sticky with blood. Carol was a virgin! Not really that surprising, but nevertheless very shocking to see someone actually being deflowered under the public eye.
But the girl kept at it, until Carol's screams and moans stopped, and whether she was enjoying it was hard to tell. Meanwhile, the girls on her toes were licking carefully, slowly between each one, while at the same time tickling her feet.
I shot a glance at Lola. Unlike the other faces that were leering at this scene in the room, Lola's face was devoid of sexual hunger. Hers was a study in abject fear. She's probably wondering what Gladys has in store for her, I thought, wondering myself, but enjoying myself also, to the hilt.
Now they had pushed Carol onto her side, with the one girl still pumping the dildo in and out. Although they had to untie one foot to do this, her arms and other leg were still firmly anchored to the large bed.
Then, the girl that was licking her right breast, left and returned with another dildo. She strapped this on and prepared to penetrate Carol anally.
"Holy Shit!" Carol screamed. "I'm sorry! I wish I had never gotten involved! I'll give all the money back! No! Don't do this to me! Oh my God! AAAAGGHHHH!"
But the girl had now penetrated and rhythmically was moving the large dildo in and out of Carol's ass while the other girl was moving her dildo in and out of Carol's cunt.
Suddenly Carol gave a massive shuddering motion, so powerful that she snapped all the ropes that held her. Emitting a high, strange wail, she grew rigid for an instant, then collapsed exhausted on the bed.
Though Gladys's eyes shot wide when she saw the ropes snap, there was no need to worry, Carol couldn't have moved if she wanted to. Gladys told the girls, who had now stopped their tonguing and fucking, to retie her and turned her attention to Lola.
"Now YOU, Lola," Gladys began. "You've always, primarily, been on the receiving end. So I think it's only fair that we turn this around and put you on the giving end!"
CHAPTER NINE
Lola blanched.
"Push Carol's bed over in that corner," Gladys ordered.
And soon, Carol had faded into the background, left alone, not cared about; only used and abused.
"No let's line these beds up," Gladys commanded.
The girls dutifully lined their beds up in a nice straight line.
"Okay girls, lay down in your beds with your legs spread WIDE apart!" Gladys called.
Like many happy children, the girls complied. I wondered whether or not Gladys would participate, but as I watched her untie the nude Lola from her chair and place a rope around her neck like a dog's choke collar, I knew she wouldn't.
"Get on your knees and hands," she commanded. Lola obediently dropped on all fours, and Gladys led her over to the first girl. There was no way Lola could have escaped without hanging herself.
As each girl lay on their beds, legs wide apart, Lola would rise up on the end of the bed and service each one like a dog. Some girls took a perversely long time in coming, straining Lola's tongue to the very limit. Some, came quickly against their better judgment. But after the first twenty-five, Gladys asked me to relieve the girls guarding the servants so that they could have their turns.
I went out of the room and sought the servants' quarters. Two girls standing in the corridor saw me approaching. Apparently two worked the corridor and two were inside with the prisoners.
They were all eager for news of what was going on upstairs. I quickly explained and then told two who were guarding the corridor to leave. I would guard the corridor myself. It was easy. All I had to do was stand there. No one could come, I thought. If anyone did come, the girls watching the driveway would tell me and I would have time to escape.
Escape to where? To the beach, I thought. I'd hide on the beach. I couldn't believe that this night would end without retribution. How could it? We had been getting away with everything short of murder. I felt sure that someone would come and punish us.
Within an hour, two girls returned and the other two went upstairs. I had turned over my post in the corridor and went into the room where the servants were tied up. They apparently were just biding their time. Two were fast asleep and two were dozing. It was boring watching them so I was pleased when I was relieved and could return upstairs.
Lola and Carol were tied up in a corner and quiet. The girls, all freshly showered and dressed, sat on their beds passing joints around.
"Margo!" Gladys cried when I walked into the room. "We were just trying to think what we should do with ourselves."
"I think," a tall raven-haired beauty said, "That's what we should do is take the money and run. Cash the checks first thing tomorrow and try to forget the way we've spent the last months or years of our lives."
"If everything goes smoothly, you have a point," Gladys agreed.
"We could stay here and spend the money too," another girl suggested.
"I'm for getting out of here," I said quickly. "The checks are made out to cash. There's no way anyone is going to know what we did. And I don't think Lola or Carol are in any kind of position to prosecute, do you?"
"No, I don't," Gladys said. "But are there enough cars to take us all out of here?"
"Yes," I said. "I noticed in the garage that there were at least ten cars. Five girls in each wouldn't be any kind of a problem at all."
"They'll have to be abandoned, of course," Gladys said thoughtfully. "We wouldn't want to get caught on a stolen car charge."
"Let's take a vote," I suggested.
"Everyone for leaving, raise your hand," Gladys said.
There was no need to ask the other question about staying. Everyone raised their hands.
"I also think," I said, "that we should leave as soon as possible."
"What are you going to do about Prince Charles?" Gladys was quick to ask.
"There's a pickup and horse trailer at the stable. I'll wake one of the grooms up, show him the papers and ask him to drive me to another stable."
"That's not too good of an idea," Gladys said. "The next day he'll be able to tell Lola where you took the horse."
I was stunned. "Okay. Why don't you come with me and I'll drive the pickup. After we unload the horse we can leave the rig anywhere."
"You really want me to come?" she asked, pleased.
I was surprised myself. I really did want her to come with me. It showed how fickle I was.
Already in the last forty-eight hours I had fallen in love with so many different people, I had lost count!
Well, if I didn't keep trying, how would I ever know?
"I want you to come with me very much," I said quietly.
The next ten minutes were spent with the girls packing and in many fond goodbyes.
Gladys and I hitched a ride in one of the limos to the barn.
"Take care of yourselves," we called out softly to the girls as they drove quietly away.
We walked into the dark barn, warm with the smell of sleeping horses. As we tiptoed towards Prince Charles' stall, the lights were suddenly thrown on and the young black groom I had met that afternoon stood there, his eyes wide with astonishment.
"Are you young ladies guests of Lola's?" he asked. Then, recognizing me: "Oh, it's you!"
"Yes, and I was wondering if you could ship Prince Charles for me. Lola gave him to me," I added hastily, shoving the horse's papers under his nose.
"I dunno about that," he replied. "It's awfully late. Can't you wait until morning?"
"No," I said. "He's being picked up at seven tomorrow to be shipped to California. I would have asked you earlier, but I was having such a good time at Lola's, I clear forgot about it."
"Well," he drawled uneasily, "Let me call the Missus and see if she can tell someone else to do the feeding for me in case I don't get back."
"No!" I almost shrieked. "Don't do that. She's sleeping. If you wake her up she might get angry and change her mind about giving me the horse. "Well... " he hesitated.
I could see he was beginning to relent a bit and it gave me hope. Now Gladys was approaching him. Slipping her hands around his waist, she whispered softly: "You won't regret helping us out, honey."
The young black man's eyes grew even wider and his smile got even broader.
"What do you mean?" he asked hoarsely.
"I mean," Gladys said slowly, running her hands up and down his back, "that if you're nice to us, we'll be VERY nice to you!"
"Oh!" he laughed, growing bolder and putting his strong arms around Glady's small waist.
"In that case, how can I refuse?"
He broke away from her and turned off the barn lights. Taking her hand in his, he said: "Grab onto your friend and follow me to my room. Quiet now. We don't want to wake any of the others up."
I felt Gladys reach for my hand. I grabbed hers tightly, my heart beating with excitement as we made our way up the loft stairs to his small apartment over the barn.
It was a large, simple room, with a big Hollywood-style bed in one corner, its sheets rumpled, the lamp alongside the bed on a small night table, lit. Not wasting any time, he pulled his T shirt over his head. The lamp casts its light on his fine muscled body, gleaming with youth and health like a bronze statue. Then he stood. With a deft zip, he dropped his levis to the floor and stepped out of his sneakers.
Gladys was undressing as quickly as he was and I found myself eagerly taking off my clothes as well.
He lay back on the bed with his arms spread wide on each side, beckoning us to join him.
His cock stood up straight and huge, throbbing with all its veins popped bright and purple.
Gladys lay down next to him, but I knelt by the side of the bed and eagerly grasped his prick in my hand. He spread his legs even wider apart with pleasure and reached one hand down onto my head and pulled me closer.
"Kiss it," he whispered urgently.
I flipped it back and forth in my hand, slapping it against his stomach teasingly, before grasping it firmly and covering it with my mouth. Its head was so huge that I had all I could do to stuff it into my mouth, but by making smooth up and down motions with my hand, I pushed it in and out of my mouth faster and faster, enjoying its width, its funky taste and its potential power.
It was like a horse's cock, I thought, an Appaloosa's horse's cock, spotted white in places, and long and thick. While I sucked happily away, I opened my eyes to watch Gladys and the groom. They were kissing now and his long arms and hands were racing up and down her body, playing with her tits, playing with her cunt, bringing her blood to her face in a happy flush.
Suddenly Gladys moved away from him and turning around so that he could eat her pussy, began a mock battle with me for his magnificent tool.
She would slip it into her mouth and tongue it, then I would grab it and tongue it, then we would kiss each other, tonguing each other's throats, then she would grab for his cock, then me. Meanwhile, his body began to pump up and down, his hips leaving the bed so that it became harder and harder to hold his slippery cock in our mouths. Grasping it firmly, I turned my body around so that he could take turns eating my pussy out with hers while we fought for his come.
When I felt his tongue slip into my cunt and lap away on my clit, I thought I would come instantly, but wanting to have him inside me, I turned around and swung his body on top of mine. Gladys got off the bed and got something out of her purse. Strapping it on, and mounting him from the rear, I saw that she had brought along her dildo.
While he battered away at me, lifting my legs higher and higher in order to penetrate more deeply, Gladys rode his back and pumped away as though she was riding Black Beauty through a forest fire.
Our movements were magnificently timed now in that age-old rhythmic pleasure. His breath grew hoarser and hoarser in my ears and his sweat matched my own so that we stuck to each other in passionate watery suction cups.
Gladys fucked him in the ass briskly, faster, matching his rhythm to mine, even slapping him on the flanks with her right hand like a jockey riding to the finish. Suddenly, like a lion, the groom gave out a roar and started to shake spasmodically. It was all Gladys could do to make him and I felt myself coming as my stomach flipped up and over while my body began to shake involuntarily. Faster and faster we moved until I felt his hot load of come shoot high into my cunt and we all collapsed together in a happy threesome on his rumpled bed.
We must have dozed for about an hour, because the next thing I knew the sun was shining into the room when I opened my eyes. The groom was still sleeping, but Gladys was awake. She took me into her arms with a lazy kiss and I felt my blood begin to rise again. But I knew we had to get out of there soon, and I knew there would be plenty of time to make love to Gladys. Later. Maybe even for the rest of my life if everything worked out alright. Suddenly I remembered that she had a check from Lola too!
Happily I woke the groom up.
"Come on," I whispered. "We've got to hurry!"
He woke with a start.
"What time is it?" he asked. Then, grabbing his alarm clock by the bed, "Oh my God! I've got to feed the horses."
"What about us?" I asked, fearful now.
"Then we can go," he said with a wide smile.
We helped him feed and hook up the trailer. He left a note for the other grooms, and in a short time we had loaded Prince Charles onto the trailer and were on the road.
Gladys and I didn't even look back at the estate. Both of us. knew a whole new life spread in front of us, even if we didn't know where it would take us.
Several years before, while visiting a friend in Westchester, I had gone riding at a hack stable that boarded horses. I knew a lot of race horses were also boarded there and that a big van came through once a week to ship a load to California. After talking to the owner of the stable, he told me a van would be leaving in a few days and I made arrangements to ship Prince Charles to LA.
"We'll be back in a couple of hours to pay you for the few days board and for the shipping," I told him, and we shook hands on it.
He wasn't too worried if I never came back. I could tell that by the admiring way he had studied Prince Charles when he came off the trailer.
We thanked the groom and he thanked us before splitting back to Lola's. We made him promise not to tell anyone where he had taken us and gave him all the cash we had between us. If he got back soon enough, no one would even know that he had left. I knew when Lola saw the horse gone she would know who took him, but it would be hard to trace him, and, as she had already given me the papers, I wasn't too worried about it.
Gladys and I rented a car and drove into Manhattan to cash the checks. I waited in the car, fearful that she would never return, but she did in about twenty minutes.
"It's all set," she cried happily. And she fanned out the money before my astonished eyes.
"Wow!" I cried. Everything was going just perfectly.
Gladys suggested that we return to my apartment, which we did.
As it was only Monday, my kitten still had enough food. While Gladys started sifting through my shit to see what I should take, I went down to see my landlady. I told her I was leaving and would forfeit my security.
"Okay," she said. "But I wish you would call Sam Ratner. He's been bothering me all weekend.
I had forgotten all about Sam. Figuring I'd better talk to him after all, I went back to my apartment and dialed his number.
"Where have you been!" he shrieked in my ear. Not waiting to hear my answer, he started rattling on about Carol and Susan and how the department had been trying to solve the case for years and how they had made the connection between Carol and Susan's claim and Lola on Long Island.
"I know all about it," I told him. And I related my personal experiences.
"You were very lucky to have gotten away," he said.
"I think the case has solved itself, now," I said.
"She'll be in a lot of trouble, that Lola will," he said. "And so will Carol and Susan."
"Good," I said.
"Aren't you coming into work today?" he asked, suddenly realizing it was Monday and I hadn't showed.
"I hate to lay it on you this way, but I quit," I told him.
"If you change your mind, call me," he said abruptly and hung up.
I felt freer and happier than I could ever remember in my life! Gladys and I lugged my suitcases down to the car.
Slipping behind the wheel, Gladys turned to me.
"What do you say we go to LA?" she asked.
"I'm with you!" I replied.
As we sped up the West Side Highway towards the GW Bridge, I listened as Gladys told me what our life together would be like.
"We'll stop in Vegas," she said, "I love to gamble, don't you?"
"I don't know."
"If you win, you'll love it," she told me.
As we rode through New Jersey, I listened enraptured. We would get a house in Malibu. I could ride and show Prince Charles. She was going to get her shit together and develop her comedy act. She knew a famous comedy writer out there she had met in New York who thought she was talented and who would help her put a routine together.
"Just talking about the last two years will give me plenty of material," she said.
It sounded great. It sounded too good to be true. But as I took a drag on the joint she passed me, I knew it would be good, and true.
And getting there would be half the fun.
Well, Gladys and I finally arrived at Malibu beach. We have a fabulous A-Frame house, right on the ocean. Gladys has been hustling her ass around to the various television studios, but so far she hasn't gotten her own series.
As for myself, I've learned a lot from Lola. And Carol. I think about them often. Wondering how long it was before someone found them tied up and released them?
Prince Charles is a star on the coast. I've been offered double the money for him, but I just can't see parting with him. I'd have to be pretty desperate to do that!
Even though I love Gladys very much and really dig our life together out here, occasionally I take the car and prowl the streets of Los Angeles looking for new thrills. It seems as though I can't get enough of danger. They'll probably find my body in the desert one of these days!
Like the other night. Gladys went off to audition for something or other. I was sitting home, getting bored, when I decided to go for a drive.
Within an hour I was cruising up and down Santa Monica, when all of a sudden I see this wasted chick about eighteen years old.
"Can I give you a ride?" I ask her.
Girls always trust other girls when they're hitchhiking.
"I'm going to Gardenia," she tells me.
So we end up at this poker palace.
What happens? She loses all her money.
I offer her a lift home. Man, she's got none. This is too good to be true!
"Do you want me to get a motel?" I ask her.
I don't want to take her back to Malibu in case Gladys comes home.
"Would you?" she asked all wide-eyed and impressed.
I feel just like Lola, seducing young girls. And I really love it!
"Sure!" I tell her.
I pick out a nice motel with a pool and we go into the room together. She's all depressed over losing all her money, so I do my best to cheer her up.
"Take a shower," I tell her. After all, I don't know where's she been!
I can hear her in the shower getting all sweet-smelling and clean and I'm out in the bed waiting for her, getting hornier and hornier.
I know in my heart this is no way to repay Gladys, but what the hell? She's got her life and I'm trying to get mine.
Selina, (that's her name), comes back into the room.
I stare at her. She looks like a different person all cleaned up. She had this long blonde hair that hung down to her waist. Her body was slender, but her tits were good. Her ass was the way I've learned to love them. High, and round, solid-like.
I can hardly wait to get my face down in her muff, but I don't want to frighten her, or anything like that.
"Come on in bed," I tell her. "What are you waiting for?"
Well, you know the rest.
But sometimes I really wonder just what is it that I'm waiting for. Or is it waiting for me?
