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Chapter Two

Maeve pulled into the gas station and asked the attendant to fill her car up. He was an older man, in his late forties. His hair was graying, he had creases in the skin of his face along his mouth. His dark green cap and uniform weren't absolutely clean. He came to the car window and looked in after checking the oil.

"Three seventy-five, mam," he said.

She handed him a ten-dollar bill. She smiled at him.

"Thank you, mam," he said. "I'll be right back with your change." He turned and walked off toward the station office.

While waiting, she unbuttoned the top buttons of her pink dress, opening it, exposing part of her black lace bra and tops of her breasts. She faced the office, smiling.

The attendant came out with some bills in his hand. When he came close, she could see the embroidered name on his uniform shirt. He leaned down to hand her his money; she could feel his eyes on her breasts. She held out her hand, he put six twenty-five in her palm. She closed her hand, and dropped it into her lap. "Wilbur," she said. "Wilbur," she looked up at him and smiled, "I really need a screw. Would you give me five dollars to screw me?" She watched his face.

Wilbur stood up and looked left and right. He nodded. He started to turn. He stopped, spun back to her. "Mam. Did I hear you correctly?"

"I believe you did. Well, Wilbur?" She turned away from him and dropped her change in her purse. She turned back to him. "Well?"

Wilbur was looking around the station, they were alone, and it was after the morning rush. "Yes, mam, I would."

She unlatched her door, he stood back. He watched the door open and her long legs swing out and her arched feet in high heels touch the pavement. She stood up. "You lead, Wilbur." She closed the car door and turned back to him.

Wilbur led her to the men's room on the side of the service station building. She noticed it was clean, about as clean as could be expected. The smell of ancient urine clung to the white tile and dirty grout. She closed the door behind her, slid the bolt. Wilbur was watching her. He was nervous, he kept licking his lips.

Maeve raised her skirt to her waist and held it with her left hand. She turned and faced the sink, spreading her legs and bending over. She held the edge of the porcelain sink with her right hand, she raised her head and looked into the mirror. The white enamel trim had blisters of rust. She watched Wilbur's face.

Wilbur saw her skirt rise; her long legs were exposed, clad in nylons held by a black garter belt. She had a shaved cunt, he'd heard of them in the Navy, during the war. This was his first. He looked up to her face. She was smiling. She waited. He watched her firm ass shift as she put weight on her right leg. She watched him from the mirror, her eyebrows arched. He didn't think anyone would believe him.

He moved close to her and felt her ass. Her skin was the softest he'd ever touched. With his other hand he unzipped himself and fumbled until he pulled himself out. He pushed his soft penis against her, tried to push himself in. She moved her ass against him. He quickly started to become hard. He entered her and began to thrust, holding her smooth hips with his callused hands. She pushed back, began to moan softly.

Wilbur came quickly. He held her, rubbing his hand over her breasts and bra. His cock slipped out, he could feel his cum follow. He pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped himself as he stepped back. He pushed his cock back in his pants and zipped himself back in. He wanted to sit down somewhere. He stepped back further and leaned against the tile wall. He watched her.

Maeve could feel his cum drip down her left thigh onto her stockings. She opened her eyes and raised her head. She looked at Wilbur in the mirror. He was watching her. She dropped her dress; it hung around her hips. She slowly stood and turned. She leaned against the sink and pushed her dress the rest of the way down. She watched him. She smiled, stood straight, and held out her hand. Wilbur looked at her. "That was worth five dollars. Wasn't it?"

Wilbur blushed. He stood up straight and dug into his wallet. He pulled out five ones, it looked like he had one bill left, and handed them to her.

She took the money, folded it and shoved it into her lace bra. She buttoned her dress. Her eyes never left his face. "I need some spending money, Wilbur. My husband is a skinflint." She took a step toward him. "Do you think you could find men for me? You could keep half." She touched his shirt pocket, ran a finger along its edge. "How much do you think I should charge?" She watched his face.

Wilbur thought a minute. He heard the bell as someone drove into the station. He started to turn. She tugged his pocket.

"How much, Wilbur?"

"Seven-fifty, ten dollars easy," Wilbur said. He licked his lips. "I'd get half?"

"You'd get half." She arched her eyebrows. "I'll do you for free."

"All right, I guess."

"You guess?" She stepped back. "My husband comes home at six." She smiled. "I can only do this weekdays, this week only. Through Friday." She unlatched the door. "I really need the money, Wilbur."

"Mam, I'll find guys for you." He pushed the door shut. "Do you know what you're doing?"

"I was hoping to do three before lunch. I have an appointment to have my hair done this afternoon." She smiled at him, pulled the door open. "Thanks, Wilbur. I'll park in the alley behind."

Wilbur watched her walk to her car. She opened the door, sat in the seat and swung her legs into the red Thunderbird. Wilbur wondered what a young, rich girl like her needed money that way for so badly. He checked himself and walked to the Bel Air waiting at the pump. She honked and put her hand out the window and waved as she pulled out.

Wilbur thought she was pretty but believed he preferred women with a bit of a tan more.

She made thirty dollars all told. Twelve fifty went to Wilbur. The last guy didn't think ten dollars was too much. She had seventeen fifty left over, she was planning to give Johnny ten dollars tonight. She could not wait to see his face.

Maeve parked the Thunderbird in a spot near the front of the small restaurant. She turned off the engine and sat back in her seat. Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, she thought, mentally clicking her tongue. She looked down at her black silk satin evening dress and laughed.

She had called Johnny at work earlier this afternoon, after cleaning up and before going out to her hair appointment. He hadn't sounded at all excited; it was a bit of a let down speaking with him, actually. He had given her the name and address of the restaurant, it was about fifteen miles from their homes, on a highway in the country. She had never heard of it, but that was not unexpected; Ronald and she had only been in the area a little over a year now. Johnny did say he had invited two salesmen he knew. The reservation was for seven, though he had not actually called it a reservation.

Maeve laughed again; she took the keys out of the ignition and slipped them into her black patent leather clutch. She left her gloves on the seat. She got out of the car and walked carefully to the front door, high heels on gravel could be treacherous. She opened the door and stood inside.

It was a small restaurant, she guessed their specialty was Italian; food or cuisine, it did not really matter, she guessed. Red checked tablecloths, candles in Chianti bottles on the tables, the room was well lit. The atmosphere spoke of homestyle cooking rather than gourmet chic.

Maeve saw them sitting at a round table near the back. She walked gracefully toward them. She noticed, as usual, eyes upon her, this time not just men's but women's also. She smiled as she approached Johnny. He was staring at her; he looked like a deer caught in the headlights. The two men sitting on each side of him swiveled their heads. Their appreciation was more frank, earthier.

Maeve walked to Johnny, put her hand on his shoulder and leaned to kiss him. "Dear," she said. She kissed him and stood up. "Johnny, don't let me forget I have that new aftershave you wanted in the car." He looked more frightened than eager. She smiled at the men, opened her purse and took out some bills, which she handed Johnny. He stared at the money held in front of his face, looked up at her, then took it, almost furtively. He stuffed the money in his pants pocket, then smiled shyly.

Maeve walked to her seat opposite Johnny and stood. One of the salesmen jumped up and pulled out her chair for her, she bent to sit, he slid the chair under her, and she sat down. She wondered what he thought of her bare back.

She laid her clutch to her left, on the table, and smiled. Johnny was still staring at her. He was cute, like some school kid on his first date. "Well?" she said.

Johnny still stared.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" She smiled at the men on each side of her.

"Oh, right." He paused. "Maeve, this is John Darling," Johnny put his hand on the shoulder of the stocky man to her left, "and this is Michael Norice." He touched the shoulder of the man on her right. Michael looked like he was in his forties, he had a florid face, he was balding. He looked like he had played football in high school or college, now he was softer and rounder. "Gentlemen, this is Maeve Madison."

Maeve smiled. "Johnny, you know my name is Marston, not Madison." She smiled at the men, "Marston, as the English playwright. He wrote plays in the time of Shakespeare." She smiled broadly and chuckled, "I'm afraid I'm overdressed."

She looked to her right. "Michael, when Johnny called me to ask me, he didn't warn me." She smiled and touched her fork. "I'm sure the food is wonderful here."

Maeve turned to her left. "John, Johnny mentioned you were in sales." She smiled.

John leaned forward and began his spiel. They were all laughing in a few minutes. The waitress brought menus, Maeve let Johnny order for her.

Maeve watched the men. Michael and John were socially adaptable, but she could see this was actually the best place to have brought them. They had families, John was especially proud of his son in the army. Michael's children were younger, still in school. He did not mention sports in connection with his son; that must be a sore point, Maeve thought.

The Chianti was good; the meal was wholesome, if not spectacular. Maeve ate very little of hers. She'd learned that some types or styles of clothing were not conducive to eating.

Maeve enjoyed watching the men talk. John and Michael respected Johnny, at the same time they appeared to feel they had a few things they could show him. John ate with his eyes hardly ever straying to her cleavage. Michael was more appreciative. She caught him staring, she smiled, and he smiled back. Johnny could not help staring. She winked at him once and gave a special grin. She thought he would blush; he did not. He lost all track of his conversation with Michael, who had to help him out.

Maeve wondered how Johnny would move to the next step. She waited for him to say something. When the meal was finished and they were chatting over their coffee she decided she would have to act.

"Did Johnny tell you men about our relationship?" She took a sip of coffee, held the cup in the air in front of her and waited. Johnny looked at John, then Michael, then at her. He started to say something, then stopped.

Maeve put down her cup. "Johnny and I are lovers." She watched John and Michael look at Johnny. Both smiled, then looked at her. Johnny sat back in his seat and stared. "We've become exceptionally close, recently. Haven't we, Johnny?"

Johnny nodded. He started to say something, then stopped.

Maeve leaned forward; her breasts were almost lying on the table. She played with her knife. "We've been intimate for some time now." She looked at John and Michael. "Since you are Johnny's friends I'm sure it's acceptable to tell you."

Maeve sat back in her seat. "When Johnny wanted me to sell myself, he had some gambling debts, I agreed." Maeve smiled. "I'm his lover at night, I whore for him during the day. Isn't that right, Johnny?"

Johnny stared at her. John and Michael looked at Maeve, then Johnny, then Maeve again. Michael started to say something, but stopped.

"Isn't that right, Johnny?" She laughed, her voice rose. "I'm your whore." People at neighboring tables were starting to watch them.

John and Michael looked at Maeve, then turned to Johnny. Johnny started, "I —"

Maeve picked up her coffee and took a sip. "So when Johnny said he was entertaining friends tonight, I took the liberty of reserving a motel room." She looked at the men, put her cup down. "It's in town, I'm afraid. And it isn't the swankiest of places." She smiled. "But it's clean, isn't it, Johnny?" She looked at John. "We've done this in the past." She looked at Michael. "Johnny likes to share me with his friends."

Maeve looked at Johnny. "I didn't overstep, did I?"

Johnny stared at her, shook his head. "I —"

"Good." Maeve looked at John, then Michael. "I'm sure you men have," she paused, then smiled, "acts you've always imagined doing." She put her hands on the table and smiled broadly.

Michael spoke. "My god. You're not kidding."

Maeve laughed. "Johnny will tell you. I am not a kidder. Am I Johnny?"

Johnny shook his head. "No, she's not," he paused, "a kidder."

Maeve looked at Johnny. "I love you so much Johnny. I'll do whatever you," she looked at John, then Michael, "or your friends want."

Michael looked at Johnny.

Maeve said, "I'm ready, whenever you are."

Johnny nodded. He couldn't remember a time when he had been more embarrassed. He looked at Maeve in her dress, which accentuated her breasts and her narrow waist, her hair, her sparkling eyes. She said she wasn't a kidder, and then she talked about how much she loved him. He signaled the waitress.

He'd done things like this in the army, but then it had been different. They had gone in separately, one at a time. They hadn't stood around and watched each other. They hadn't all climbed into the same bed together. This was one of his fantasies, but now it was about to happen he was frightened. His grandmother had gleefully said, "Be careful of what you wish for," when he was a child. "You might get it." Then she would laugh and laugh.

Johnny followed Maeve in his Impala; John and Michael followed him in their separate cars. John hadn't been sure he wanted to do this, Michael and Maeve convinced him he didn't have to do anything and he could leave anytime he wanted.

When they were in town, Johnny turned into a parking lot of a liquor store. John and Michael followed Maeve now to the motel room. Maeve wanted a decent wine, John and Michael asked for beer — Black Label was Michael's favorite.

Johnny had noticed how Michael was comfortable with the situation; he was taking control in little ways. Johnny was not sure how he felt. He couldn't pretend he wasn't excited. He just wasn't entirely comfortable himself about the situation, no matter how much he knew that this was what Maeve wanted. He wasn't happy with the wad of bills in his pocket.

Johnny was smiling when he left the liquor store with his bag of beer and wine. The wad had contained only ten dollars. Maeve was joking about selling herself, surely. He pulled out onto the street and drove the two blocks to the motel Maeve had chosen. He turned into the parking lot and saw their cars, he could see that one of the rooms was lit. He parked next to Maeve's Thunderbird.

Johnny knocked on the door, paper bag held in his other arm. Michael opened the door, saw him and smiled.

Johnny walked in, saw Maeve bent over the bed, doing something with the covers. She had removed her evening dress, was naked except for her high heels. She heard him enter, turned and smiled, and went back to folding up the covers.

John was sitting in the corner by the table. He was watching Maeve, not as unabashedly as Michael, who had sat down in the chair close to the door. Johnny put the bag on the table and turned when Maeve called his name.

She straightened and smiled at him. "Would you be able to help me with this, Johnny?"

He walked to her; she pointed to the other side of the bed. He went there and stood watching her. Her body was lush and enticing. She bent and pulled up the top sheet, he did the same. They flipped the top sheet and covers over from the head of the bed to the middle. They moved down to the foot of the bed, did the same, folding the sheet and covers into the middle of the bed.

Johnny stood up and looked at Michael, who had opened one of the beers with the opener on his pocketknife. Michael handed the bottle to John, then opened one for himself. Michael raised the bottle in a silent toast to Johnny, then took a long drink. A silly grin never left his face.

Maeve motioned to Johnny and he came to her side of the bed. She was at the head, he at the foot and they folded the sheet and covers lengthwise to the other edge of the bed. They moved to the side of the bed he had been originally and did the same. Maeve went around the bed and they folded the packet one more time. She stood up and Johnny saw that she was smiling, too.

"Would you be able to put it over there?" she asked. She pointed to a corner of the room. He lifted the packet of covers off the bed and laid them on the floor. They made a thick cushion about two feet square.

Johnny turned around and Maeve was walking to Michael with a corkscrew and a wineglass. "Would you be willing to do the honors?" she asked.

Johnny watched Maeve, her back was to him. She was doing something so that her ass bounced for him. She stood in front of Michael while he worked to remove the cork. John was watching Maeve, his beer bottle halfway to his lips, staring. Michael at last removed the cork, it made a faint pop. Maeve handed a glass to Michael and he poured.

"You, dear. Beer or wine?" she asked. She turned to him, only the top half of her body rotating. Johnny could never see enough of her. She had a slight flush to her cheeks, she was excited, and every movement she made was sharp and focused. She smiled at him.

"Wine, too, I guess," Johnny said.

Maeve smiled, walked past him with a wink. She returned, brushing his side with hers, with a glass that she handed to Michael. Michael poured, put the cork loosely in the bottle and put the bottle on the table.

Maeve bent down, put her hand on Michael's shoulder and gave his cheek a quick kiss. She squeezed his shoulder and sat down on the bed in front of John and Michael. She patted the sheet beside her; she looked over her shoulder to Johnny and smiled. He saw her red lips grin at him.

Johnny sat down next to Maeve; she put her hand in his lap. He took her hand in his and held it on his leg. He was beginning to sweat. He felt like he should have removed his tie and jacket when he came in.

Michael had his Black Label back in his hand. He was drinking, looking eagerly at Maeve. She was sitting with her legs open, the muscles of her legs were sharply defined because of the heels. Johnny felt he could see an arch along the top of her thigh. He could smell her; she was using a perfume he'd never smelled before.

"Well, Michael and John. What shall we do?" She turned to John who was staring, holding the beer bottle still in the air by his face. "John, what would you like to do with me? Or, do to me?" She turned to Michael, "And you, Michael. What would you like to do?"

Michael smiled. "I'll let John go first. John?"

John shook his head. He put the bottle on the table. "I should be going." He stood up. "I'm a happily married man." He paused. "I have a daughter your age. I should go." He started to edge around the table. He kept the table between Maeve and him.

"Not even just watch?" Michael said. "Nothing wrong with just watching."

John stood, looked to Maeve, looked to Michael, looked to Maeve. He shook his head. "No, I should go."

Maeve stood up. "John, isn't there anything I can do for you?" She stepped toward the table. Michael stood up and backed away. He was grinning still. His face was flushed like Maeve's.

Maeve put her hand on John's arm. He stood there, his eyes shut. Johnny could see all the man's defenses fall. Maeve drew John to Michael's chair and pressed him into it. John's eyes flew open. Maeve smiled. She knelt by him.

"John," she said. "I can't make you do anything you don't want to do." She laid a hand on his leg. Johnny could imagine her face as seen by John. Earnest, begging to be trusted. Johnny wanted to see if John would cave in to her as he had done yesterday. Johnny looked to Michael. Michael finished his beer. He walked past John and Maeve, put the empty on the table and opened a new bottle. Michael walked back to his spot. Johnny guessed Michael had a better view there.

Maeve had been talking to John, rubbing her hand on his leg. "— nothing at all?"

John stared.

"For god's sake man," Michael said. "She'll do anything you want. Just ask. Anything." Michael looked to Johnny. "You get a piece of this every night?"

Johnny nodded. It was easier to lie.

"Come on John. I'll bet she'll suck you off. Won't you, Maeve?" Maeve nodded and smiled; she ran her hand over John's crotch. Michael laughed, "Sucking isn't intercourse, it's not as if you are having sex with her, is it Johnny?"

Johnny looked at Michael. Michael was grinning.

"I'll suck you off if you want," Maeve said. She slid closer to him on her knees and ran both hands on his legs, onto his stomach, over his fly. John shut his eyes. He nodded.

Maeve moved between his legs, spread them then unzipped John's trousers. She released his belt, opened his pants and his shorts. She pulled them, said, "Lift." John raised his butt; pants and shorts were pulled down about mid-thigh.

Maeve looked at John, she touched his chin, ran her finger over his lips. "Thank you John for letting me do this for you." She bent down to his cock which was becoming firm in her left hand and slid it into her mouth.

Johnny watched as Maeve's head bobbed up and down, she used one hand to hold John's cock, her other hand massaged his balls, slipping down under them. John slouched in his seat, a look of concentration on his face. Pained concentration, Johnny thought.

Michael walked over to Maeve and bent down. He rubbed his hand under her ass, felt her. Johnny could see Maeve's butt move to Michael's hand. Michael looked to Johnny and smiled. "Your whore is wet and ready." Michael finished his beer, and then he held the bottle under Maeve's rear. "Sit on it," Michael said.

Johnny saw one of Maeve's hands leave John and move under her. She took the bottle from Michael and positioned it. She lowered her pussy onto it.

Michael stood next to Maeve. "You can do better than that, whore," he said. He took his hand and pushed on her head. Maeve removed the hand holding John's cock and lowered her mouth until he was entirely in her. Michael held her head down.

Johnny stood and walked to where he was opposite Maeve and Michael. He could see her trying to raise her head; she was making choking sounds.

Michael looked at Johnny and smiled. "Shall we let the whore breathe?"

Johnny nodded.

Michael released the pressure on Maeve's head allowing her rise. Johnny could hear her gasp. John's eyes were open now, he was watching, fascinated.

Michael pushed down on Maeve's head again until all of John's cock was in her.

Johnny watched as this went on repeatedly. Maeve was moving her butt up and down at times while this was happening, other times she held still. Johnny could see her hand under her, holding the bottle.

John came; he made a sharp whining noise and raised his hips so his pubic bone ground into Maeve's lips. Johnny could hear her choking. After a minute, Michael let her head up. "Let us see that you got all of that, whore," he said. He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back.

Maeve had a smile on her face. Her lips were red and wet. She opened her mouth. She closed her lips and made a yum sound.

"Are you ready to come yet?" Michael asked. He released her hair.

Maeve nodded.

"Then show us."

Maeve lowered her face onto John's crotch. She made moaning sounds, she lifted her rear and started jabbing her pussy with the bottle. Her other hand worked her pussy.

The hair on the back of Johnny's neck rose when he heard her. Her moans were slowly growing louder, her pelvis was thrusting, and she was shaking. Then she stopped. The bottle fell out of her hand and rolled on the floor. The long neck was wet. She lowered her butt, she brought her hands up and started to kiss and lick John's cock and stomach. John put his hands on her head and shut his eyes again.

"Want more, John?" Michael said. "This bitch is hot for you."

John shook his head. He removed his hands from Maeve's head. "No, I better go." He started to say something to Maeve, then stopped.

Michael grabbed Maeve's hair and pulled back again. "I'd sure like a fuck if he's done."

Maeve smiled. Her face was wet.

Johnny thought she'd been crying.

Michael let go of Maeve's hair and started to take off his clothes. Maeve stood up and bent to John. She put her hand on the sides of his face and held him while she kissed him. She stood up and looked to Michael.

Michael's pants were down around his ankles, his shirt half off. "Damn," he said. He laughed. "I'm so flustered I'm forgetting how to take my clothes off." He pointed to the bed. "I'll join you in a second. Shoes first, you'd think I'd remember." He sat down on the corner of the bed. He tossed his shirt against the wall, then bent over to take off his shoes. "Johnny, you ever want anything from me, you just ask. I can't believe this." He looked up at Johnny. "I'm going to just straight fuck her, if that's OK with you." He bent down to his shoes.

John pulled his pants up and fastened them. Maeve finished her glass of wine, put the glass on the table and lay down on her back in the center of the bed. She spread her legs.

Maeve looked up to Johnny and mouthed, "I love you," and smiled.

Johnny looked down and saw his glass was empty. He went over to the table, poured himself another, and sat in John's old chair.

Johnny looked at John and saw that he was looking at Maeve. John's face was inexpressive — consciously John smiled, frowned, showed amazement. When he wasn't trying to show emotion, his face became impassive.

Michael was on top of Maeve. He fondled her breasts; she held his back, swaying from side to side, slowly, underneath him. She was also undulating, Johnny could see her body ripple, her knees, her pelvis, her stomach, then her breasts rose then fell.

Michael's cock was in her and slowly thrusting.

Johnny looked to John and saw he was standing, getting ready to leave.

"Thanks Maeve, thanks Johnny. I better go." His hand was on the doorknob.

Michael looked over. "You don't know what you are missing."

John nodded. "I think I have a good idea. I better go." He opened the door.

Johnny stood up, put his wine down, and followed him out. "Thanks, John," he said. They walked over to John's car.

John took his hand, said, "I should be thanking you." He shook his head. "That was —" He released Johnny's hand. "If you need anything."

Johnny nodded.

John drove off. Johnny stuck his head in the door and said, "I'm going to get more wine and beer, I'll be right back." He saw Michael's head nod. Maeve's heels were kicking Michael's butt, driving him harder. She was moaning again.

Johnny decided he would walk to the store.

When Johnny got back, Maeve was alone on the bed. He laid the bag on the table. He could hear Michael in the bathroom.

"You're next," Maeve said. She smiled at him, watching him move. One of her hands was on her breast, her fingers rolled her nipple back and forth.

Johnny nodded. He started to take his clothes off. Michael came out of the bathroom, Johnny saw that his cock was shriveled now, wet and shiny. Michael sat down in his chair with a fresh beer and smiled at Johnny.

Johnny put his clothes on the dresser. He felt self-conscious in front of Michael. It wasn't that he was shy, naked, with men, the service had cured that. He was shy, naked, having his sexual performance judged by other men.

He climbed onto the bed alongside Maeve. He looked into her blue eyes. They watched him closely. She was smiling, her tongue moved across her lips, not provocatively, but shyly. She touched his chest, she slid her hand up to his shoulder and drew him down to her. They kissed.

While they were kissing, Michael said. "I bet your whore held back on you, they all do. She didn't give you all your money." Michael stood up and walked around the bed.

Maeve lay back and stared at Johnny. She watched him carefully. Michael's hand pulled her face toward him.

"Didn't you?" he said. He gripped Maeve's chin and shook her head. "You held out on Johnny, didn't you?" Michael shook her chin twice, then released her.

Maeve stared at Michael, then at Johnny.

"Didn't you?"

Maeve gave a slight nod. She shut her eyes.

Michael stood up. "Johnny, you have to watch these whores, they'll cheat you blind." He walked away. He drew on his pants. "You're the one who should be driving that Thunderbird, not her." He looked at Johnny. "I'm not saying anything against your car, I'm just telling you the way it should be." Michael had his shirt on. "Back in a second. I saw what we need when I pulled in." He went out the door.

Maeve looked at Johnny. "I did, Johnny. It wasn't much."

Michael was back in, holding a rod. Johnny saw that it was a bamboo planting stake; he had some in his yard. Michael gave the rod a swish through the air. "This'll do." He looked at Johnny. "Don't tell me you've never done this?"

Johnny shook his head.

"Johnny, she's running all over you. She is just a whore. You have to take control." He held the rod out to Johnny.

Johnny sat up, took the rod and looked at it. It was painted green, about a quarter inch thick. He could bend it between his hands. He looked down at Maeve. Her eyes were starting to fill with tears.

"Get off the bed, bitch," Michael said.

Maeve nodded. She sat up and slid to the foot of the bed. Johnny stood up. He realized he'd lost his erection.

Michael put the pad of covers on the bed, in the center, toward the head. "On it, bitch," he said. Maeve climbed onto the pad. "So your butt is in the air."

While Maeve was positioning herself, Michael fished in Johnny's clothes and pulled out his shorts. Michael walked over to Maeve's head. "Open your mouth." She did and had the shorts shoved in. "Now spread your legs."

Michael looked at Johnny. "She's done this before." Michael held out his hand. Johnny handed him the bamboo rod. "What you do is this." Michael raised the rod above his head and swung, snapping it into Maeve's rear. She jumped and made a snorting sound. She buried her head in the covers. Her hands pulled the covers to her chest.

Michael held the rod to Johnny. "About five more would be right."

Johnny looked at Michael. Johnny saw Maeve turn her head and look at him. She quickly faced ahead. Johnny took the rod and thought.

Johnny had never struck a person like this before. He didn't get in fights. He liked sports, listening to baseball on the radio, catching a game now and then. But of all sports, football was his least favorite. He wanted to tell Michael this was some game of Maeve's, beating her was going too far. He couldn't tell Michael that.

He swung the bamboo rod hard and felt the rod hit Maeve. He jumped when she did. She was snorting, it sounded like her nose was stuffed; she was shaking her head back and forth. He looked at Michael, at Michael's smile and nod and struck her four more times, quickly, one after the other.

Johnny was shaking. He sat in the chair.

When Maeve had quieted down, Michael bent over and pulled the gag from her mouth. "What do you say?"

Maeve lowered her head, she shook her head, her legs were still trembling. She raised her head and looked at Johnny. "I'm sorry, Johnny. I'll never do it again." She lay her head down sideways, looking at him. She mouthed, "I love you," and smiled.

"Don't believe her, Johnny. The next time do it harder and longer. The third time, beat the crap out of her." Michael went over to the table and opened a beer. He took a drink, "Want one?"

Johnny nodded. He turned and leaned the rod against the wall. Michael handed him an opened beer. Johnny took a drink.

"If it were me, I'd fuck her asshole."

"Oh god. Please don't," Maeve said. She buried her head in the covers and shook it. "Please don't," she said again, muffled.

Johnny nodded. He stood up and climbed onto the bed from the foot. He kneeled over Maeve. He could see the raised welts on her pale ass, each with a thin line of bright red along the center. He touched her and she jumped. He took another drink, and while doing that he felt her exposed pussy, he ran his fingers along the lips, they were smooth and hairless. That surprised him still.

He pushed a finger into her, pulled it out and spread her butt cheeks. He was becoming erect, he bent over her and reached under to feel her breasts, he drew his hand down to her stomach, felt its muscles, he pulled his hand out and took another drink of beer. He moved back and placed the bottle against her pussy. He slipped it into her, moved it in and out three times, then withdrew it. He finished the beer, tasting her and Michael on the neck, and lay the empty bottle on the bed.

Johnny moved closer to Maeve and pushed himself into her pussy, felt her move around him. He thrust several times, then withdrew.

Maeve said, "Please don't."

Johnny placed his cock against her asshole. He pressed, he slipped in easily. She shoved her butt at him. They moved together while he fucked her, in concert, one against the other. She moaned. She became still and passive, her body moved limply under him with each thrust. She started to shake. He came deep inside her, he crawled as high as he could over her and held her tightly.

"I'd like a chance at that ass, when you're done, Johnny," Michael said.

Johnny nodded. His right hand was under Maeve's face. He could feel her lips and tongue kiss it.

Michael left at midnight. He was laughing when he went in the bathroom for a shower. "I'm going to have to come up with a good excuse for Alice." He winked at Johnny. "She's sharp."

When he came out of the bathroom, he was whistling. "Flooded carburetor. I think I had a flooded carb." He got dressed, took a beer, opened it, and left the pocketknife on the table.

"Thank you, Johnny." He came over and looked down at Maeve. Her lips were wet with Johnny's cum. "She's good Johnny. Make sure she knows you're boss."

Johnny nodded. "Thanks, Michael, for everything."

"Thank you." Michael went out the door whistling.

Johnny looked down at Maeve. "Satisfied?"

She nodded. "You're inviting him to dinner, tomorrow, aren't you?"

"If you want."

"You could invite John. It is who you want to invite. You're the boss."

Johnny didn't reply.

"My father died when I was nineteen." Maeve turned on her side. "Is there any wine left?"

Johnny poured wine for them both and returned to the bed. Maeve took her glass and propped her head on his chest. "Want to hear the story of my childhood?"

Johnny looked at her, he was confused. He still found it fascinating, just to watch, the animal that was her body. "Yes, I'd like that." He took a sip of wine.

Go to the next chapter.
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four |
Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | The Schedule

The first part of Switch: a novel is Switch.
The second part of Switch: a novel is The Babysitter.
The third part of Switch: a novel is Comes the Bride.
The fourth part of Switch: a novel is The Revolver.

Disclaimer: Some of the things the characters do in this story are seen as offensive or frightening (even terrifying) by some if not most people. Please don't surprise anyone. Always ask first. Have an agreed upon safe word even if you don't do BDSM.

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