Chapter 19
(MF, bbF, MF, exhib, Mbb)
Nellie returns home after her weekend with Reginald, Frank, Mickey and Roy fuck her. Frank meets Big Mike, Frank and Betty reunite...
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I saw Reginald's Caddie pull up behind my Mustang and Nellie's Cutlass while I was brewing coffee. I put my robe on and stepped out of our back door as Nellie got out of the Caddie, briefly flashing her pussy.
The trunk lid opened. I pulled her suitcase out and carried it toward the apartment as she walked around to the driver's side. The driver's window hummed down. She leaned in and kissed his mouth as her left hand went down between his legs.
"I'll see you after lunch, boss," she said seductively, with her left hand still gripping his lump.
He glanced quickly at me.
"Good morning Redge-in-ald," I said, enunciating each syllable. "What'll you have for breakfast, Babe?"
"Whatever you're having."
I resisted saying, 'You'd have to be a contortionist for that.' I carried her suitcase up to our bedroom, where Felicity was sleeping.
As I turned to go back downstairs, Nellie hugged and kissed me passionately. "Fuck me. Fuck me. I need that big cock."
I lifted her and threw her back on the bed, startling Felicity. I shoved the hem of her skirt. She raised her butt off the bed, so I could shove the skirt up to her waist. "When you said that you'd have whatever I was having for breakfast, I nearly said, 'You'd have to be a contortionist.'"
I performed my cunnilingual magic, giving her two intense orgasms before ramming my cock in deep and mercilessly pounding her pussy.
"Fuck her, Daddy! Fuck Momma. Fuck her hard!"
"Yesss! God yesss. Fuck me, Frank!"
We came together, and I went down on her again, until she could stand it no more. Then she realized we had company; Roy, Mickey and two little girls she had never seen before. The sight of the wide-eyed kids gave her another orgasm.
"Nellie, this is Alice and Linda. They're staying with their Uncle Jake and Aunt Marlene while their parents are on a swingers' cruise.
"Good morning, Girls." Nellie said, pulling her skirt hem back down.
"Cold cereal for breakfast," I said. "I don't feel culinarily inspired this morning."
Some hanging clothes covered in plastic were draped over the back of the couch.
"The beginnings of my new professional wardrobe," Nellie explained, displaying three suits, with a skirt, jacket and blouse.
"The skirts look a little longish, and the high necked blouses a tad prudish."
"I've decided to go for austere and authoritative rather than sexy. I'm going to have my hair done up in a French twist."
"I was afraid you were going to go for a bun. That would be way too severe. A French twist looked sexy on Kim Novak in 'Vertigo' nearly 20 years ago. But Kim could make a burr cut look sexy"
"How was Reggie?" Felicity asked.
Nellie thought for a moment before saying, "Not bad."
"No bad?" I laughed. "Not what I call high praise."
"He got me off. Most of my orgasms were real."
"You have unreal orgasms?" Linda asked.
Nellie was hesitant, "I don't feel comfortable talking about this with little girls I don't know."
"They've watched me fuck our daughter. They've each ridden my cock once, and my beard multiple times."
"You can trust them, Mom. They're horny little wenches."
"Wenches?" Nellie asked.
"One of Sarge's favorite words, along with vixen, nymph, slut, tart, hottie, sexpot," Felicity explained. "He says them like they're good, not bad things, like whore or bitch."
"Back to the subject," I interjected. "Your 'Not Bad' sexual adventure with Reginald, and faked orgasms."
"He was better than 'not bad,' most of the time."
"What percentage of your orgasms were faked?"
"I would say less than 40 percent," she replied. "He knows how to eat pussy. He can get me off with his tongue, but he doesn't really get into it , or off to it , like you do. For him, it's an obligatory act that he wants reciprocated. And, his fucking is mechanical. Almost robotic. He enters dead center and stays dead center. You move your ass around, coming in high, or low, or right or left. Your tempo changes. Reggie's doesn't. It's like he's following a Standard Operating Procedure manual. And he prefers the back door to the front. His wife refuses to let him butt fuck her. She made him sleep in the guest bedroom the last time he hinted at it."
"Did he buy the strap-on for you?"
"He did. And he likes it a lot more than he wants to admit. He calls me a bitch when he's fucking me, so I thought it only fair that I call him a bitch. I was pounding away hard, and said, 'Take that, you fucking butt slut bitch!' and he had an orgasm, moaning and 'Oh Godding.' After he came down from cumming, he claimed that the pressure on his prostate caused the orgasm."
I shook my head, "I've ejaculated during a prostate exam. There was nothing erotic about it. There was no buildup, no tingling sensation. I didn't even have an erection. The doc pressed my prostate and semen squirted out."
"When I asked if he wanted me to fuck him again. He said he would do it for me, since I got off to it." Nellie laughed. "I'm going to get a bigger dildo for him."
I had to shit, shave, shower, dress and go to work. Mickey was fucking Nellie's mouth while Roy fucked her cunt from behind when I left.
There was a Post It note on everyone's typewriter; NO MORE SHARK STORIES OR PHOTOS.
I was looking through AP wire stories for a feature inspiration when a big ugly man entered the newsroom, wearing an expensive dark blue 3-piece suit, and holding the paper open to the page with Betty's weekly photography column and her photo. A gorilla in an expensive suit is a frightening sight.
"Where's Betty?" he demanded.
"She's off today," Anne said. "If it's a photography question, Frank Harris may be able to be of assistance."
"No! I gotta see Betty. Where does she live?"
"We don't give out our employees personal information," Anne said.
"Let's talk about it outside, Mike," I said. "In private."
"Who the fuck are you?"
"Frank Harris."
"I don't have no photography questions."
"I know you don't, Big Mike. I know why you're here. At this moment, I am the best friend you have on earth. Let's go outside and discuss it. I'm going to save you a lot of heartache and headache."
"How do you know my name?"
"Betty told me all about you," I said leading him out of the building.
"Did she tell you that I was her erudite paramour?"
"That is exactly what we have to discuss before you get yourself into serious trouble."
"Trouble?"
"Trespassing, harassment, stalking charges. Restraining orders."
"Why would she do that to her erudite paramour?"
"Because, Betty hates your ugly guts."
The big burly bastard took an intimidating step toward me.
I stood my ground, and grinned my confrontationally incongruous grin. It confuses big guys when littler guys don't back down. The grin, in that circumstance, is disarming, and maybe a little frightening. Frightening in the sense that the smiling man might not be sane.
He was momentarily confused, and it showed.
"When Betty called you an erudite paramour, did she say it in a loving manner?"
"No, not really."
"In fact, you thought it was an insult because you didn't know what the words meant, and it sounded like a put-down. "
"Well... uh... yeah,I guess so."
"How did you find out what the words meant? I'm betting you didn't look it up in a dictionary."
"I was hired to encourage a debtor to pay his debt. I told my employer that I would put the fear of God into that erudite paramour motherfucker. He laughed at me, called me stupid, and told me what it meant; a married woman's smart lover," Mike said. "The bastard won't be calling me stupid to my face ever again."
"Erudite doesn't mean just smart. It means highly intelligent, well read. Egghead, bookworm smart. We're talking college professor intelligent," I explained. "I doubt that you've cracked open a book since you dropped out of high school."
"Junior high."
"And, paramour does mean illicit lover," I said. "From what Betty tells me, your relationship is far from loving. Y'all bad mouth each other, and you rape her."
"Yeah. That's kind of how it goes."
"You are not her erudite lover. You're just a dumb fuck."
"You're about to talk your way into an ass kicking."
Maintaining the grin, and sounding friendly, I said, "Win, lose or draw, Mike, I file assault charges, and your big ugly ass goes to jail. And, if you ever come around here again, the paper will file trespassing charges."
"Asshole!"
"Now, I have good news for you."
"What's that?"
"I know that Betty wants to continue the existing relationship. She loves the way you fuck."
"Really?"
"Don't go getting lovey dovey on her. That'll scare her away. Be the same brutal, stupid, obnoxious asshole you've always been, and she'll keep coming back for more."
"No shit?"
"Yep. Now, get the fuck out of here."
He turned and walked toward his black Ford F-250.
He looked back, and said, "It's weird. But I almost like you."
"I almost like you too, asshole," I replied.
We laughed and he left.
"What were you doing out there with that gorilla?" Anne asked.
"Advice to the lovelorn."
"Betty and *Him*?"
"It's weird."
"No kidding!"
Betty came to the newsroom an hour later to pick up some film.
Anne said, "A fan came in to see you a little while ago. He looked almost human."
"Oh, God! What did he say? What did he do?"
"You'll have to ask Frank. He and the ape man had a discussion out in the parking lot. At one point, I was certain he was going to squash Frank like a bug. But they were laughing when he left."
Betty grabbed my right arm, and pulled me to the photo lab. "What happened?"
I outlined the encounter for her.
"You actually called Big Mike a dumb fuck to his face?"
"How else could I explain the erudite paramour sarcasm?"
"He could have crushed you like a bug."
"I'm a lucky guy."
"You are a crazy son of a bitch. Let's fuck." She led me out through the newsroom, saying, "I'm taking Harris to lunch."
"But it's not Wednesday," Anne said.
Pat Joel was entering as we were exiting. "Betty, I need to talk to you."
"Tomorrow, Pat. I'm kind of in a hurry right now. Let's go, Harris."
We left in our own cars and went to the Lakeview Motel.
"Is it Wednesday already?" the desk clerk asked when we entered the office. He gave us the key to room 13.
We fucked, and the fucking was great. The fucking was always great. We fucked, then talked. Our post coital conversations were as good as the sex. We were buddies, and we talked about anything and everything. She was one of the most intelligent people I had ever had the pleasure of knowing. We discussed politics, religion, philosophy, psychology, art, movies, music, people, places, things, relationships, photography and journalism. She had no interest in sports, outdoors or motor vehicles.
I filled Betty in on everything that happened since we last fucked.
She stared at me in shocked silence for a moment before exclaiming, "You're a pedophile!?!"
I nodded. "I didn't realize it until I eavesdropped on Felicity and Sarge. I'm attracted to prepubescent girls, and some of them seem attracted to me."
Betty was silent for a moment, shaking her head in disbelief. "Bob's a pedo too," she whispered.
"Bob!?!"
She nodded. "Barely pubescent boys; 10 to 12 or 13."
"How does he meet them?"
"They're usually clients' children. He meets most of them during family portrait sessions. Some at weddings and wedding receptions, and some while he's out shooting landscapes." Bob was a professional studio and wedding photographer. The landscapes, seascapes, sunrises and sunsets were for his own enjoyment.
"That's why you wanted to have Bob come home from rugby practice and find you with Roy and Mickey!"
"They had to go to that damned fishing tournament. We'll do it next weekend."
"They'll love it!" I said. "They are horny little devils. They have no preference; boys, girls, men, women; mouth, pussy, ass. They just want to get their rocks off. And they love making men's cocks cum."
"Bob loves boy cock in his hands, his mouth and his butt."
"A match made in horndog heaven."
Betty sighed, "With all of your familial obligations, you're not going to have much time for me."
"Or energy," I laughed.
"Funny. I've missed our talks as much as your cock. Maybe more."
"I think the fucking became foreplay for our conversations."
Betty laughed, "Yeah, it felt that way for me too."
"We can dispense with the foreplay, and save the expense of a motel room."
"I like the intimacy of motel rooms, and being naked in bed."
"Mondays?"
"A good way to begin the week."
She went home. I returned to the newsroom, called Norman Long, and told him I would like to write a feature about drag queens, and photograph his metamorphosis from Norman to Fifi.
"Oh no! I couldn't (pause)." He laughed, and Norman's masculine laugh morphed into Fifi's feminine chuckle. "I fucking love It!" Fifi exclaimed. "Let's do it!"
"When?"
"Would now be too soon?"
"Now works for me. I'm on my way."
I told Anne what I was doing. "I might be able to get it done before deadline," I said.
"Don't push it. Do it up right. Do it for Wednesday's edition."
Norman was excited when he opened the door. "I've been promoted! I'm going to be a day shift supervisor. That frees my evenings to perform at The Debauchery. I'll be free to be me most of the time. I'll be Norman Long from 7 a.m. to 3 p.m. Monday thru Friday. The rest of the time, I am Fifi La Fleur."
"What about Reverend Lancaster? What's up with him?"
"His friend, the TV evangelist Rocky Sylvester, is going to lead the congregation in an exorcism ceremony at the Wednesday night prayer meeting. It's going to be filmed, and broadcast on Reverend Sylvester's Sunday morning show."
"What about your wife?"
"She's going to participate, and testify about Lancaster's Satanic side seducing her, making her believe that good was evil and evil was good. She'll be absolved of the sins committed while under Lancaster's demonic control."
"What about your marriage?"
"She's a good housewife and mother, and an excellent cook. I'll keep her if she wants to stay and live with a drag queen who is a lot sexier than she ever dreamed of being."
He had a theatrical dresser and mirror. I photographed the transformation from a rather plain looking man to a gorgeous drag queen.
"You're beautiful," I said.
"I'll be flamboyant for performances, but a little more subdued around the apartment and shopping."
"How did you get into the drag thing?"
"When I was four or five, my mother and older sister decided I was too pretty to be a boy, and dressed me up like a girl when my father wasn't home. Sissy was four years older than me, but small for her age, and I was a little taller than average," he said. "When I was 11, My father came home unexpectedly, and caught me wearing Sissy's baby doll pajamas and really whorish makeup. Mom and Sissy weren't home, and I really went wild with the mascara and eyeliner and shadow. Blood red lipstick."
"What did your father do for a living?"
"He was a Marine. He was incensed. I'll swear that I could see steam coming out of his ears. He put me over his knee, pulled the pajama bottoms down and spanked me hard. The sound echoed off the walls. I wailed pitifully," Fifi recalled. "Then he stopped slapping my butt, and caressed it. And he said in his gruff whisper, 'Damn, boy, you do have a sexy little ass' then he slipped a finger in and laughed, 'And it ain't no virgin ass. Is it?' I was too afraid of him to lie, and told him about the other boys and one boy's father who fucked me. I became his fuck toy. Him and his best buddy, Buck, fucked my ass and mouth at every opportunity. I loved it!"
The homosexual incest didn't make it into the published story. His gruff straight-laced Marine father, enraged at first, accepted his son for who and what he was, and encouraged him to be himself.
I returned to the newsroom, processed the film, made a contact sheet, and showed it to Anne before she left for the day.
"We'll have before and after headshots on the front page below the fold, and a photo essay inside. Three column wide text in the center, surrounded by the transformation photos."
I printed the photos Anne wanted, wrote up the story, and gave it to Joel.
"Where were you and Betty going in such a rush? Anne said Betty was taking you to lunch."
"Lunch."
"You were gone a long time."
I leaned in close and whispered, "We fucked, Joel. I fucked Betty's brains out. If you start getting jealous and possessive, you'll lose out on a good thing... a very very good thing."
Nellie arrived home about ten minutes after I did.
"I'm going to trade the Cutlass in for a black '76 T-Bird."
"You're not waiting for the '77s?"
"The 76 is a demonstrator with low miles. The sales manager is giving me a great deal on my Cutlass. The 77s are going to be smaller, and not as fancy. The 76 T-Bird is Ford's equivalent of the Lincoln Continental Mark IV. I love it."
I looked her up and down. The conservative gray suit with its knee length skirt, black silk high neck blouse, and black western ankle high zip side boots looked sexier than I imagined it would.
"That doesn't look as severe as I thought it would."
"It's been a while since we've taken a stroll, Frank. I'm in the mood for hot pants, halter top, and slutty makeup.
"Let's do it!"
"Let's go to the carnival again."
"I'm starving."
"Eat me."
"I am in need of actual nourishment; proteins, carbs, calories."
"Carnival junk food?"
"Good enough."
"Where's Felicity?"
"Here I am," she said, coming down the stairs, accompanied by Peggy, Wendy, Linda and Alice.
"Have you heard from Pauline?" I asked.
"Oh yeah, she called a little while ago. She said they'd be back tomorrow morning, around ten."
"I stayed late today. I'll go in late tomorrow," I said. I didn't punch a time clock, and no one kept track of my hours. As long as I produced stories, features and photos, Anne was happy.
"Gimme money, Dad. We want to take Linda and Alice to the carnival."
"By coincidence, your mother and I were going there for a slut stroll."
"What's a slut stroll?" Alice asked.
"Mom dresses up like a street walker, with a mini skirt or hot pants, and a halter top, or something that shows off her boobies, and walks around swaying her ass."
Nellie went to the bedroom, hung her suit in the closet, let her hair down, put on more makeup, with shiny dark red lipstick that matched her red patent leather calf high boots. She wore her black leather mini skirt and short vest that barely covered her boobs.
When I opened the back door to leave, Jake was standing there with his fist raised to knock. Marlene stood next to him. They gawked at Nellie.
"This is my wife, Nellie."
"We met briefly as I was leaving for work," Nellie said. "I was wearing my Executive Assistant attire. This is my slut attire."
"We're headed to the carnival," I said. "Would y'all like to come along?"
The girl gang walked ahead of us. Jake walked beside me. Marlene walked beside Nellie.
"I wouldn't have the nerve to go out in public like that," Marlene said.
"You have a better body for it than I have," Nellie replied. "You're curvier, and have a nice set of boobs. You'd be smokin' hot."
"Even if I could get up the nerve, Jake would never allow it."
"Maybe I would," Jake said.
"I might think about it, if we went somewhere where nobody knows me."
Jake laughed, "I can't believe you're even considering it."
"You don't want me to?"
"Are you kidding? You have to let me pick out your clothes."
"Have you been doing this long?"
"She did it for Dr. George, and discovered her inner exhibitionist."
"Dr. George?" Marlene asked.
"The guy whose cock she was sucking when our daughter walked in on them."
"That must have been an awful experience," Marlene said.
"I wanted to die. I was mortified. My life was over. My reputation was shot," Nellie said. "It was more traumatic for me than it was for Felicity. The worst day of my life turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me. It freed me to be me."
"The being caught sucking cock wasn't the end of it. Georgie's wife had a private eye following them. He got film, audio and photos of their shenanigans at a motel, where Nellie discovered her inner exhibitionist. He also got audio of teenybopper Bobby fucking her. She wasn't merely an adulteress auditioning for a better husband. She was a full fledged slut."
"You weren't enraged?" Jake asked. "I know I would be if I caught Marlene doing that."
"The cocksucking pissed me off. When Felicity called me at the office, and told me what she saw, I was enraged. In 12 years, Nellie never sucked my cock. By the time I got to the apartment, I had my temper under control," I said. "Then, the private eye's report, film and photos turned me on. I was amazed at how turned-on I was. I loved having a slut wife."
"You enjoyed being a cuckold?" Marlene asked.
"The dictionary definition of cuckold is the husband of an unfaithful wife. When she was being filmed and taped, I was a cuckold. I am no longer a cuckold. I am now a co-conspirator. I am her accomplice; her facilitator or facilitant. We both have fun. She doesn't humiliate me. I don't humiliate her. We have fun."
We arrived at the entrance. I bought a bunch of tickets, gave most of them to the kids, and said, "Get lost."
"You can't just let them run loose," Marlene said.
"The carnies watch out for us," Felicity said. "They ain't gonna let nothin' happen to us."
"It would be bad for business," I said. "This isn't a travelling carnival. It's here all year long. It's part of the community. They'll still hustle you for all the money they can. But, as far as I'm concerned, anyone who takes a chance at games of chance deserves to be ripped off. If you don't know that the odds are always in the house's favor, you're dumber than dirt."
Suddenly, the obnoxious security guard from the mall was in my face. "Okay, asshole. We ain't in the mall. There ain't no security cameras. You got nobody to sue. Let's see how fucking tough you are now."
"You are stupid beyond belief, Lardass," I said, as four carnies quickly descended on him.
He was escorted out. They took a Polaroid photo of him and gave it to the ticket booth attendant. He was told never to return.
"What was that about?" Jake asked.
"A while back, Nellie was slut strolling through the mall. I was following at a distance, watching men and boys watching her. A young security guard stops me, thinking I'm a stalker. I tell him I enjoy watching men watch my wife. A little while later, Sgt. Lardass comes along, trying to treat me like I'm a submissive cuckold. I let him know otherwise."
"You're lucky the carnies came to your rescue," Marlene said.
"Yep. I'm a lucky guy."
"Maybe Sgt. Lardass is the lucky one," Jake said. "I think Frank knows how to take care of himself. He showed no fear. He wasn't backing away. He was grinning at the brute."
"He was a cop for a few years," Nellie said.
"Strut your stuff, Babe. I want to see bulging crotches."
"You are so crude."
"Can you honestly say that you don't get off to making men's and boys' crotches bulge?"
Marlene asked, "You really get off to watching men ogle your wife?"
"I'm a totally perverted voyeur. I love watching her being slutty. I love watching men watching her. I love watching men watch me watch them fuck her. I love watching men watch me watch her sucking their cocks."
"Oh, my God!" Marlene gasped.
"In addition to being a totally perverted voyeur, I am honest. I apologize if my honesty offends you."
"That kind of honesty is shocking. People just don't blurt out things about their personal lives... their sex lives."
Jake said, "Marlene was shocked when I told her that my sister and brother-in-law were going on a swinger's cruise."
I asked, "Can you honestly tell be that you've never thought about fucking another man. You've never even flirted with another man since you've been married?"
"No! I mean, not seriously."
"You can't tell me that men haven't flirted with you... haven't made suggestive comments. You're a very attractive, sexually appealing woman."
"Office flirtations. Meaningless. Just words. They don't really expect anything to come of it."
"Maybe they don't expect anything to come of it. But you must know they want to fondle those boobs and suck them and fuck you. You have to know that they would jump at the chance to jump in the sack with you."
"Well?" Jake asked. "Do you totally ignore the comments? Do you say, 'How dare you flirt with me? I'm a happily married woman.' Or, do you encourage flirtations? Do you flirt back?"
"There's no real harm in flirting."
"Of course there isn't," I agreed. "You like knowing that men, other than your husband, find you sexually attractive. It makes you feel sexier."
"Yes."
"Are any of those flirters married?"
"Yes, they all are.
"I don't suppose Jake flirts with other women."
"If she catches me flirting with another woman, I hear about it for days. She doesn't make me sleep on the couch, but I don't get no nookie for a while."
"Jac-ob! I'm not that bad."
"Yes, you are."
"That's when you should be giving him nookie!" Nellie said.
"Let him have sex with me while he's thinking about another woman!?!"
"You never ever think about another man when Jake's fucking you?"
"No!"
"Honestly? Never?"
"Well... I do sometimes think about movie stars."
"I do a pretty good Al Pacino imitation," Jake said.
Nellie chuckled, "You can close your eyes and imagine Michael Corelone or Frank Serpico is banging you."
Marlene and Nellie went to the restroom together.
"I wouldn't want Marlene to be a slut, like Nellie. But I've thought about the open marriage thing for a few months, since I found out about Susan getting Harve into swinging."
"I'm guessing you have someone in mind."
Jake looked furtively around to ensure no one was in listening distance. "Susan," he whispered. "We fucked from the time she was 12 and I was ten until she got pregnant and married Harve at 17. It's possible that I'm Linda's father, along with four other guys."
"Y'all haven't fucked since?"
"No. I think she was actually monogamous for the first five or six years of her marriage, but she's a natural born slut. She loves fucking. Marlene's good in bed, and is a pretty good cocksucker. But she does not do anal. And I love butt fucking."
Nellie and Marlene rejoined us. "Let's fool around in the tunnel of love," Nellie said.
The Tunnel of Love was a long oval that ran under the roller coaster. As soon as we were in the tunnel, Nellie said, "Marlene's cheating on Jake with the school's principal. She teaches second grade. She loves Jake and doesn't want to break up their marriage. The affair makes her feel sexier. She's been trying to figure out a way to broach the subject of an open marriage. Now that she's found out about Jake's sister and her husband getting into swinging, and about our wild sex life, it'll be easy to bring the topic up for discussion."
I told her about Jake and his sister.
"Marlene's not into the swinging scene. She just wants to be able to have a lover on the side, without feeling guilty about cheating on Jake ."
"I think Jake's the same way. They do love each other, and I think their marriage is more important than having fun on the side."
"Unlike us?"
"You never loved me. You married me to get away from your controlling father. I was always a stopgap measure until something better came along. I was a useful fool."
"No. I thought you would mature. Grow up. Get some ambition."
"You thought you could change me. Mold me into the materialistic motherfucker you wanted me to be."
"I have everything I want now," she said. "Except a home."
"You're not going to get that, unless you can come up with a hefty down payment. And that's not going to happen, because you spend money faster than you make it. You have to have expensive cars, expensive clothes, expensive jewelry, expensive everything."
"I can cut back."
"Keep the Cutlass for three more years."
"The trade-in value drops drastically after three years."
"Get a Falcon instead of the Thunderbird."
"Eeew."
"Your old salary goes into the family account. You can do whatever you wish with the raise and bonuses."
We got out of the tunnel of love.
"Is something wrong?" Marlene asked.
"It's been a long day," I said. "I'm tired. I'm going home." I suddenly felt drained. Exhausted. I wanted a drink.
Instead, I went home, smoked a joint, zoned out, and dozed off.
In Chapter 20 Despite Betty's loathing for Big Mike, she and Frank do a story on him as a repo man, and Felicity admires the big bulge in Big Mike's pants...
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