Most Americans will agree that the rising tide of blatant sexuality in our country has gone to extremes far beyond what anyone could have dreamed of even one generation ago. Many of us applaud the relaxation of Victorian moral standards, but the more thoughtful members of our society often question just how far this new openness can be allowed to go.
At a recent conference on sexuality in one of the larger Midwestern cities, the famous physicians present conceded that our more relaxed attitudes are a "tremendous improvement". However, although we seem to have overcome Puritanical fears of our own bodies, there seems to be a lack of ability to be able to speak of the spiritual aspects of love between males and females. Attitudes have gone so far away from old-fashioned prudery that the physicians feared some of the younger generation are becoming like animals in a laboratory, with a totally anatomical and mechanical outlook on the most intimate aspect of life.
Naturally, these extremes of permissiveness are causing concerned people to worry about what is to come, and about how people will react to the loosened moral standards. We, the publishers, are pleased to present our readers with Myra Kaine's latest work, The Abandoned Housewife. After extensive research in the suburbs of a large city, she has written a fictional account, based on facts, of just how the new sexuality has affected one modern couple in their day-to-day existence. We are proud to publish his thought-provoking study of still another aspect of contemporary mores, and we are certain that the mature adult reader will find this work worthy of his attention.
-The Publishers
CHAPTER ONE
Terry Dawson awoke languidly, stretching luxuriously in the snug bed of her strip cabin. Ever since she had been a little girl, she had dreamed of going to Hawaii again, and finally the dream had come true. It was just too good to believe it was true, but she and her husband Bill were now on their way home from that island paradise, their bodies bronzed by the endless sunshine and the hikes up mountains and around coral beaches.
Long before Terry had grown to be a woman, married Bill Dawson, and settled down in Sunnyvale, she had been a little girl on the magical island of Oahu. She had fished and swam and sailed and passed marvelous childhood years at the naval base at Pearl Harbor. But then that fateful December day had come--that day when little Terry had seen ominous planes circling overhead. Suddenly sirens were wailing, people yelling, and the jeeps had taken them up into the hills, all the women and children. And in a few days, she and her mother took a boat home to California, and for nearly thirty years, Hawaii became a dream-like memory.
The Dawsons talked of this pilgrimage back to Oahu for many years, always poring over maps and books, but somehow they could never get up quite enough money to actually go. Until finally it had happened! And, despite the fact that little Honolulu and Waikiki had become huge and smoggy cities, despite the fact that the luaus were commercialized, that the huge hotels dominated the once-virgin beaches, that the roast pig tasted suspiciously like tinned ham . . . well, everything has to change sometime. It's still been the most marvelous vacation of our whole life, Terry said resolutely to herself, and smiled happily.
The lovely, brunette woman tossed off the covers and jumped to her feet, not being one to spend all morning in her bed. She smiled down at her still-snoring husband, his tousled hair in blond curls on the pillow, and she tenderly replaced the sheet and blanket around his shoulders.
Terry walked to the porthole window and looked out at the gentle sea quickly going by underneath their ship. It was a beautiful clear day, with the sun shining brightly on the seemingly endless ocean. Glancing down at the clock on the nightstand, Terry considered waking her sleeping husband, but then decided to leave him alone. After all, at home in Sunnyvale, he would have to once again get up at seven a.m., driving all the way to Menlo Park for his job at the airplane parts factory.
Terry was standing naked, having slipped off her short pink nylon nightgown, and wondering what to put on to wear above deck on her last day aboard ship, when she became aware of eyes upon her dark-tanned, voluptuously curved youthful body. She smiled at her good-looking husband.
"So you finally woke up, you lazy old bear," she said playfully, continuing to rummage through the clothes closet for her favorite strapless white sundress.
"Don't you dare put anything on," Bill commanded in a threatening tone, his eyes smiling. "I like you best just exactly the way you are right this minute!" Leaping out of bed, he approached his brunette wife from behind, squeezing her around the middle, and eagerly fondling her large rounded breasts. Terry leaned happily against her muscular husband's shoulder and turned her face upward to be kissed. His mouth brushed against hers and then hungrily kissed her soft lips, while his left hand caressed her breast. His right hand slowly dropped from her breast to brush lower and lower against her taut belly; finally his fingertips teased against the curly hairs of her pubic mound. She moaned in happy surrender, her teeth nipping gently on his earlobe as his hand slowly reached lower and lower.
Bill reached toward his wife's thighs, and unhesitantly they parted. His fingers probed against the moist bud of her clitoris and reached further up into the warm hidden confines of her pussy.
She laughed gently, half-moaning with her own mounting desire. "Aren't you ever satiated, my darling?" she whispered seductively.
"No, no, never!" came his husky voice; his lips descended onto the sensitive flesh of her neck, and she squirmed in delight. Hot shivers coursed up her spine as his mouth hungrily sucked at her white flesh. "I'll never get enough!" he exclaimed again, "and neither will you, baby! Shall we get back into bed, or ... " he paused suggestively for an instant, "Or against the wall?"
Terry turned and faced him, the lush curves of her body silhouetted against the porthole sunlight that streamed through. Her upthrust breasts pushed against his naked torso as her arms reached around him to pull his hungry body even more tightly against her own. "Anywhere, baby," she murmured. "Anywhere you want, as long as you want! Oh, Bill, I'll always want you so much!"
Bill's hands smoothed over the tantalizing mounds of her firm naked buttocks, marveling as always at the lush beauty of his wife's girlish body. He kneaded the warm white skin of her ass-cheeks, looking down pleasurably at the inciting contrast of her snow-white buttocks against the darkness of her torso and legs. His fingers spread apart the half-moons of her behind.
Terry groaned in delicious anticipation as Bill rolled her with dexterity back onto the narrow cabin berth, and her legs opened involuntarily, eager to receive the throbbing male hardness of her husband. The full-bodied woman raised her knees up to her breasts, exposing the full expanse of her moistly throbbing pussy flesh, and her arms reached up for her husband.
"Fuck me, Bill," she whispered. "Fuck me so good. Let's make this the best time in our whole beautiful vacation!" And, silently, Terry hoped that, just this once, she could have a real orgasm.
He ran his fingers over her back and down to her buttocks, letting his hands revel on the firm skin, his loins tingling and his entire body trembling at the feel of her silken nakedness. He could barely see her, close as he was, and he was not in the least worried about anyone else, on any part of the ship, hearing them. It was as though they were totally alone in the Pacific Ocean on their magical raft. He was seized with the maddening lust to ravish this wondrously beautiful brunette woman who was his wife.
He moved his face closer to her body, finding her firm full breasts, which he had fondled so many times before. They responded to his kisses with an instant hardening of the pink nipples. He passed his fingers along their bulging sides, from her ribs to the points of the nipples, lightly, with a feather-soft touch. And then he bit one pink tip of a nipple so that Terry gasped and clasped his head more tightly.
With a pulsing in his lower loins, he squeezed her nakedness to him, his hand slithering down her firm belly and between her full-fleshed thighs. It found the warm soft lips of her moistly dripping pussy, and her thighs parted again with a little moan from her throat. His fingertips squeezed the little bud of her clitoris beneath the sparse damp curls of her pubic hair and she began to wriggle her shapely hips in little contracting movements, as if she were fighting to control her burning passion.
She lay back on the bed, her body racked with heaving breath. She was full of vigor and desire. Frantic with impatience, the young wife squirmed her unspoken reply to his lust. She drew her thighs up instinctively and when she reached down, he felt her cool hand on his bloated cock-shaft. Her hand sent a stab of shock into his rigid flesh, and his organ moved toward her hair-lined vaginal furrow until he could feel the moist fleshy warmth throbbing against his cock, waiting for his entry.
"Oh, Bill, darling, darling," she whispered in a hoarse tone, her mind reeling from the incredible sensations his touch on her nakedness was giving to her. Her eyes were closed tightly as she floated through a timeless space, her only touch with reality being the shivering electronic sensations that radiated from his throbbing cock against her shamelessly lustful pussy-lips. He rocked his muscular hips forward and the head of his turgid penis eased between the soft fleshy folds as the cuntal walls tightly constricted around him. He felt her body tense as he pushed forcibly, feeling suddenly as though he were once again stealing her virginity, as though it once again were their wedding night.
And then, "Aaaaaggghhh!" she cried as he shoved his swollen cock forward with all the strength and desire of a lustful bridegroom. Suddenly he wanted to hurt her, to possess her, to show her his ultimate strength and power. But this urge was quickly swept away by the deliciousness of her smoothly wet pussy-walls giving way like warm butter as he eased deeply up into her cunt.
He groaned as he felt her pussy squeezing with painful tightness along the length of his throbbing cock, which seemed to expand and expand until it was at the absolute bursting point.
"Oh, darling, my dearest," she repeated mindlessly as she bucked and writhed underneath him on the ship's berth. Her face moved from side to side, marks appearing on her lips where her teeth had bit into them, and every so often her mouth pressed against his own, and her teeth bit into his lip. She sucked hungrily against his tongue, her hoarse breath warm and sensual, panting into his throat.
Her legs, on either side of his impaling loins, were jerking and writhing like marionettes gone out of control, in wild abandonment. He felt their warm pressure as they gripped him tightly. She gripped her strong husband, then loosened her grip, pulling her fleshy limbs up to her shoulders and then to spread them wildly out at right angles to her hips, continuously moaning and gasping in obscene passion.
She was out of control, out of touch with reality, totally mindless of anything except the deliciously painful skewering she was receiving from the man she loved.
The impassioned brunette housewife's eyes were closed; all the time her mouth trembled and her neck strained backwards until it could go no further, thrust in the intensity of her uncontrollable feeling.
The exquisite pain of his initial entry over, her own juices lubricated the tight constrictive passage of her seething pussy folds, and the agonizing jolts soon became rippling and rolling waves of unchecked ecstasy that broke over her nakedly squirming body beneath her impassioned husband.
Bill was conscious of absolutely no part of his virile body but his heavy, overly-full cock which moved deeply in and out of Terry's lovingly clasping little cunt that was so enthusiastically wrapped around the full virile length of his aching manhood. He rotated his fingers over the naked plane of her firm buttocks, squeezing the soft and resilient flesh between his digits, pulling her nakedly grinding torso tight against his impassioned loins. Flames of desire for his wife raged hopelessly out of control now. Her pussy was gripping his aching cock like a vise and milking it with a contrastingly gentle expertise in the most skilled and erotically perfect manner possible. Oh! It was so achingly, desperately good ... he wanted it to go on forever, yet his throbbing cock told him he wanted to explode, wanted to cum soon into his wife's delicately gripping cuntal folds.
He felt the softly pulsating lips of hair-fringed cuntal flesh around her pussy, touching his swollen cock, moving into her in long, ever-deeper strokes.
He pounded faster now, pinching the tight folds with his in-stroke, causing her to cry out in an oddly exciting mixture of pleasure and fearful pain. She was almost whining beneath his striving body, and the heat radiating from her sweat-soaked naked flesh seemed to envelop them both in cloudy steam. Terry was alive with the intensity of her savage and untethered passion, with every inch of her flesh tingling. Nothing mattered now, nothing but her big lustful husband sticking his hard shaft deeper and deeper up into the all-too-willing confines of her hungry cunt.
The eager young wife was impaled, helplessly impaled, and she adored the feeling it gave her, reveling in the salacious thrill of the moment. She wished it would never end . . . would never end . . . never. And yet, the sensation that had begun to build deep within the pit of her tautly straining belly told her that she longed for it to end. Increasing her effort, Terry thrust her pelvis forward to meet her husband's loins. She twisted and writhed from side to side, reaching further upwards towards his pistoning cock, clenching his buttocks so tightly that every down-thrust movement sent his eager cock against her sensitively aching cervix.
Terry Dawson opened her mouth and groaned in impassioned abandonment. "Oh darling Bill!" she cried out. "I'm going to cum!" The sensations in her belly built further and further; harder and harder the young wife strove for her climax, sucking her husband's cock deep up into her throbbing cunt as though she would never let it go.
Bill felt the sudden loosening and clamping of her vaginal muscles, as his impassioned wife thrust against his loins, striving to imprison his cock further and further up in the confines of her aching belly.
Terry's words became a delirious babble, and her tight passage clamped so deliciously around his thrusting cock that Bill knew he could only stand this incredibly exciting sensation for a few more seconds! Hot and pulsating, he quickened the rate of his thrusts, and Terry continued to moan, gripping his buttocks with her strong thighs and fingers, rolling her pelvis back and forth on the long shaft of his male hardness.
Bill felt his own passion climbing to a soaring pinnacle of sensation beyond any words, a sensation centered at the very tip of his glans, sensation in the aching knob of his throbbing organ. "Oh . . . ohhh," he grunted, slowing his stroke into a long and deep thrust far up into her warmly welcoming young belly. His stomach and loins smacked firmly against the soft pink flanges of her cuntal furrow and his balls ground tightly into the upraised curve of her buttocks.
"Ohhhhhh," he groaned once again as Bill felt the pressure in his testicles give way and the pent-up flood of sperm begin to explode. With a savage motion, Bill pulled Terry's thighs back to her shoulders, hearing her moan passionately, wildly.
With a sudden wet, warm relief, Bill shot his hot load of fluid into his squirming and moaning wife, a flood of pent-up semen that spurted again and again into her desperately sucking pussy, draining him of all his burning desire.
Again and again he thrust, until he collapsed, spent and trembling, against his wife's still hungrily thrusting body.
For several minutes more, Terry strove against her now-quiet husband, but somehow the release she had felt to be so close had eluded her young body. She put her arms around him and lay quietly, fighting the hot tears which came to her eyes, fighting the resentment that she knew was wrong.
"I'm sorry, baby," came her husband's satiated voice. "I'll try harder next time, but you're so good, you're just so good I've got to cum when you do that to me."
Terry nodded and kissed her husband on the forehead, not trusting her voice because of the hot lump she felt burning in her throat. And then she lay back against his strong shoulder until the burning feelings in her stomach dissipated, trying to forget her feelings of frustration and disappointment.
* * *
When Bill and Terry finally emerged on the ship deck, they were just in time for the second serving of lunch. They had a light but elegant meal of Shrimp Louis with sourdough bread and white wine, and then went up on the sun deck to enjoy the swimming pool and once again expose their bodies to the life-giving rays that seemed to shine far more brightly on the Pacific than any place else in the world.
Only when, late that afternoon, Terry and the other passengers began to strain their eyes to make out the distant shore of San Francisco, did a nagging little doubt really enter her mind. Ever since they left Sunnyvale twenty-one days ago, Terry had been pushing this doubt to the furthermost recesses of her mind. "I just won't think about money," she would say to herself resolutely. "I'll think about money when I go home, but not in Hawaii. It won't be a real vacation if I have to worry."
But now, with the shore of San Francisco drawing ever closer, it was no longer so easy to push away the thought that kept raising its ugly head: what would they do about money? Convincing Bill to take this much-needed vacation had been hard enough, and goodness only knew that he didn't need to be reminded how much it had cost them. They almost never quarreled, but when, on rare occasions, they had spoken harshly to one another, Bill reminded Terry that she was a "rich man's brat with too-damned expensive tastes".
Terry sighed, leaning over the railing of the ship, admiring the rich dark wood and the polished brass. Bill was right, she supposed. Her daddy had made quite a lot of money, or at least a lot compared to the way she and Bill lived now, which was very comfortable, but far from wealthy. Still, Bill was a good man, and she'd surely rather have a husband who worked hard and loved her a lot, than a handsome, rich, alcoholic, woman-chaser like her dad had been. Or so she told herself, standing on the side of the ship.
Things would work out, Terry reassured herself. Things always did, if you tried hard enough. She'd just go to the bank and get a loan, but whatever she did, she wouldn't let Bill worry about it.
The brunette, having made this decision, left her place by the ship-rail and returned to her husband, who was still stretched out on the deck next to the swimming pool. She kissed him tenderly, memories of the morning still very much with her, and they went down to their cabin to pack up their bags.
Several hours later, the ship had docked in the busy San Francisco harbor, and the young couple, arms laden with suitcases and souvenirs, followed the line of sun-tanned Californians down the gang plank, sad that their journey had come to an end, but also glad to be back on nice firm soil. Soon their land legs were working again; they fetched their Chevrolet from the underground parking lot and filled it with suitcases. Driving on the familiar freeway toward Sunnyvale, Terry leaned against her husband happily. "Oh Bill, I'm so glad we went!" he exclaimed.
Bill smiled down at his dark-haired wife, but his face was thoughtful. "It was great, babe, but I'm glad to be home," he replied. "I had to give the guy in the garage twenty bucks just for keeping the car, and I had to tip the purser another ten, and I'm sure I must have forgotten somebody else who needed a tip. A package vacation costs more than you think it does!"
"Oh darling!" exclaimed Terry. "I don't want you to worry the least little bit about the money. After all, we haven't had a vacation for five years! Not a real vacation, anyway!" She snuggled closer to him. "You let me worry about that, ok?"
CHAPTER TWO
"My dear girl when did you ever get home? And how was your marvelous vacation?"
Terry Dawson looked up in surprise. She and Bill had only lived in Sunnyvale for a year, and she expected to meet no one she knew at the Benevolent Finance Company office, of all places. In fact, for just a moment, she felt rather embarrassed. When Terry had grown up in Newport Beach, her parents certainly never went to finance offices; if they ran out of money, why them simply telephoned the broker and had him sell some of their stock, and no matter how often it happened, there was always more stock to sell.
Looking down at Terry was a handsome older woman, perhaps forty of forty-five years old. She was smartly dressed, in a tailored summer suit, and her blonde hair was stylishly cut. In fact, from a slight distance, the woman could have passed for a college coed.
"Elaine Travis! It's so good to see you again!" exclaimed Terry in happy surprise. "Our vacation was simply splendid. But I haven't seen you for ages; how did you possibly know we were away?"
"Oh darling, this isn't a city, you know! Things get around." The older woman smoothed her hair back from her carefully made-up face in a casual but elegant gesture. "Jake and I had just been saying to each other that we must see more of you two, so isn't it a lucky coincidence to run into you now!"
Terry smiled again, but she wasn't so sure it was really so lucky. Elaine Travis was the first person she and Bill had met when they moved to Sunnyvale, but as the Travises were of a wealthier and wilder social group, Bill had preferred not to see much of them. A little reluctantly, Terry had agreed, but she'd always felt a special sort of friendship for Elaine, the first friend she'd made in Sunnyvale.
"Have you had lunch dear?" asked Elaine. "Shall we go to Lyons?"
"Well..." Terry hesitated. She couldn't really think of any good reason not to, even though Bill might not like the idea of her going out to lunch. "I'd love to, Elaine," she replied, "but I'm still waiting to talk to Mr. Morganthaler about this loan ..."
Elaine Travis frowned curiously at her younger friend, sensing something unspoken. "You come to lunch and tell me about it all," she commanded briskly. "I'm sure you'll feel better then, and if you still want to, you can go back to Mr. Morganthaler then.
* * *
Elaine listened very sympathetically as they sipped bloody Mary's at Lyons, and Terry found she was all too anxious to talk with another woman. Three weeks alone in Hawaii with Bill had certainly been wonderful, but there are some things that one just needs to talk about with a female friend. Terry seldom would admit to herself that she was lonesome in suburban Sunnyvale, with Bill away nearly all the time working at the Dempster Corporation where he had made airplane parts ever since they moved to the Bay Area. But it was true; she was lonely, lonely for the social life her parents enjoyed and she had expected to enjoy when she grew up. Instead, in her neighborhood there were coffee klatches with inevitably boring conversations and very little else.
"If it isn't too personal, my dear," asked Elaine's purring voice, "I wonder what your business is with Mr. Morganthaler? You and Bill aren't starting a business, are you?"
"Well, Elaine," began the younger brunette woman, "to tell the truth, it's a personal loan I need. I... I didn't know it would be so frightfully expensive to go on this vacation. We saved up for so long and then we took the boat instead of flying because we wanted to economize, but..." Her words trailed off in embarrassment.
"But it cost more, actually, to take the boat, didn't it?" broke in the older woman sympathetically. "It always does, of course, unless you absolutely fast the entire trip! And then, of course, you have to tip everyone! My goodness, it must have been quite expensive!"
"It was," Terry replied hesitantly. "I mean, we loved every single minute of it, but now there isn't any money left in the bank. In fact..." The dark-haired woman's tanned complexion turned pink with embarrassment. "In fact, we're overdrawn at Northern California Savings and Loan, and I'm just afraid to tell Bill! I was hoping I could get a loan so we could pay back slowly and not worry about it quite so soon."
The waiter interrupted their conversation by bringing in two plates of chicken with mushrooms and rice. Elaine and Terry began to eat, and Elaine continued to half-listen to Terry's conversation and half-ignore it as a little plan came to her mind. If this pretty young girl needed money, Elaine was sure her husband Jake would be more than willing to help out, that is, if he could get a little out of it himself. A little out of it, and she sure didn't mean money. Elaine speared a piece of chicken and smiled thoughtfully.
Unlike most of the couples of their age and income bracket, Elaine and Jake Travis had long ago discovered a foolproof way to keep their marriage and their career exciting, both at the same time. First, they knew everyone in Sunnyvale who was worth knowing, and countless people all around the Bay Area. Out of so many people, they reasoned, some would swing, and again and again, their reasoning had proven correct. And, to supplement their income, they would arrange occasions that made it easier for people who wanted to swing to do so. It was all so easy, once you knew how, to get people to do almost anything!
Watching Terry, sensing her boredom and loneliness above and beyond her immediate need for cash. Elaine decided that perhaps she really could help this younger woman. And wouldn't her husband Jake bless her for it! Jake was a good guy, and he really had some hidden assets that made him worth a lot more than what they had in the bank which in itself was considerable enough . . . like that fine tool hanging between his strong and hairy thighs. Sure she wanted a change occasionally, and Jake did too ... it was healthy, she reasoned, to like variety, but it was sure as hell good to have a big hard cock to come home to. A hard man is good to find, she always said.
As Elaine's thoughts had strayed elsewhere, and she had been only vaguely listening to Terry's worried tale, there was a sudden and uncomfortable silence when the younger woman finished speaking. Terry Dawson looked up, awaiting some response for her friend Elaine.
"Well, my goodness," gushed Elaine Travis, rising to the occasion she had just begun to forget, "it certainly sounds like a splendid trip you had. After all, young couples aren't trotting off to Hawaii at the drop of a hat like you and Bill did! You should consider yourselves lucky. But this little money problem will have to be cleared up, won't it? How much do you owe, exactly?"
"A-A thousand dollars," came Terry's voice.
"There was a letter in the mail this morning from the bank, and we're overdrawn a thousand dollars! I asked the girl at the desk about a loan, and she said I should talk to Mr. Morganthaler ..."
"But Terry," said Elaine smoothly, "you know you can never get a loan without your husband's signature! Even single women have very difficult problems getting loans, and as for a married woman who is simply a housewife ..." Her words trailed off, leaving her unspoken meaning very obvious. Terry squirmed in her chair at the words. Things seemed more bleak than every.
Continuing in her silken smooth voice, the attractive blonde said, "Besides, dear, you oughtn't to owe any more money, and you'll only have to pay interest on a loan. Haven't you considered working yourself?"
"Well," Terry hesitated. She knew she would sound silly, antiquated, really, to say she liked to stay at home and putter about in her garden. My goodness, that made her sound old, much older than this ravishing and fashionable woman across the table from her who must be at least ten years her senior! "Bill won't let me work," she continued lamely. "He says a woman's place is in the home. He's a little old-fashioned, I guess."
My heavens, thought Terry to herself, what's wrong with me anyway? Can't I stand up for my own husband? I don't have to apologize, do I? Do I?
"I can certainly speak with experience," Elaine said. "Jake and I have borrowed money for one of our companies from Benevolent, and their interest rates would send you right up the wall, I'm afraid, if you could even manage to get a loan, and of course you would first have to tell your husband all about it."
As her words sunk into the worried brunette's mind, Elaine spoke again. "But of course, Terry dear, there is an alternative. If Mr. Morganthaler can't work out something to your liking... if you even want to ask him at all, I surely can find you a job. You're a very attractive woman. I know Bill wouldn't mind if you worked on a very occasional schedule. Not all the time, you know. After all, it's better to earn money and not tell him than it is to borrow and not tell him."
Terry finished the last of her chicken. Her mind was buzzing with unformed decisions. No, she couldn't lie to Bill; she couldn't do it. It would hurt his pride so much to have his wife working! But, she thought grimly, someone would have to bring home the bacon; Bill was a good provider and all, but they needed more than his salary! Much more!
"I'll. . . I'll think about it, Elaine," she finally answered. Elaine smiled graciously, and then the two women seemingly forgot the matter entirely as they ordered coffee and a sinfully caloric dessert, and they entered into a long talk about the Sunnyvale Golf Club's current fashion showing.
* * *
However, after a half-hour talk with Mr. Morganthaler in his wood-paneled office, Terry's mind turned again to Elaine's idea. Mr. Morganthaler was helpful enough and certainly more than friendly, but very insistent that, without her husband's signature, Terry would not be eligible for a loan of any kind. And even if she had his signature, the hundred and thirty-two dollar monthly payment would be nearly impossible on their tight budget. The interest alone was enough to turn Terry's mind away from a loan!
Sitting in the Benevolent Finance office, '
Terry weighed the possible alternatives in her mind. And she knew that no matter what, she just couldn't tell Bill about the money they owed to the bank. Poor Bill had enough to worry about, that was certain. But how had she ever gotten into such a dilemma? And how would she get out? Only yesterday she and Bill hadn't had a worry in the whole world!
More and more, it began to look to Terry Dawson as though Providence herself had sent down Elaine Travis, just at the point when she needed a helping hand.
* * *
Elaine sounded just like a helpful big sister when Terry finally telephoned her late that afternoon, and the younger woman felt supremely grateful to have a lap to lay her problems onto. "I'm sure you can straighten out this whole confusion without even involving your husband. I know you'd rather not tell him, but even if he knew, I'm sure he'd be proud of you for being so resourceful," she said in a concerned voice.
Terry brightened at her words. "Just tell me what I have to do, Elaine," she said, infinitely relieved at finding a solution, even a slightly deceitful solution to this terrible tangle she'd gotten into. "I'm willing to do anything to straighten this out without having to worry Bill! Anything!"
Elaine smiled to herself, hearing Terry's childlike enthusiasm over the telephone. So you're willing to do anything, baby, she thought to herself. Well, that's just what I've got in mind for you!
CHAPTER THREE
When Terry Dawson had telephoned her friend Elaine Travis, and had believed she had found a ready solution to the terrible dilemma she had happened to find herself in, she had never really and truly imagined just what Elaine would have in store for her. If she had any conjectures at all, they were vague and simple ones; perhaps typing envelopes at home on her old Olivetti standard; perhaps working in an office in nearby San Jose. In fact, come to think of it, Terry really had no idea how Elaine and Jake made their ostentatiously comfortable living. She had never thought it was polite to ask such very personal questions. But if anyone had told her just exactly what sort of work Elaine had in mind for her to do, she would never, never have believed them.
Yet here she was, she thought ruefully, here she was, wearing an extremely tight blue turtleneck pullover, a too-short skirt, platform shoes of patent leather, and an open blazer jacket. She felt like one of those insipidly smiling girls one sees on airplanes, the ones who constantly are holding up the lifesaving apparatus and, in monotonous tones, instructing all the bored passengers just how to save their lives when the plane decides to crash. But at least those girls, she thought, are going someplace. They're leading exciting and glamorous lives, and meeting interesting men, and then they all get married and. . .
Terry Dawson tried to laugh, at the absurd mental picture of her own self standing here thus outfitted, and with a smile pasted broadly across her still darkly sunburned features. She was positioned near a large table bearing dishes of hors d'oeuvres, and close behind her was a bar where a young man, also in a blue blazer jacket, was serving drinks. Above the bar hung a sign: "Welcome: Lighters, Katayama Incorporated.
Since the telephone call she had had with Elaine Travis, Terry had certainly had her misgivings about working, even though it had seemed by far the most acceptable alternative which was even available to the young brunette wife. This was a way out, a way she and Bill could clear themselves and pay back the bank balance. In fact, it seemed a little odd to Terry that, as soon as she had agreed to Elaine to help her out in this "little business" as she'd called it, Mr. Morganthaler at the finance company had telephoned to say that as long as she was going to be working for Elaine, he'd be more than willing to take care of her little problem at the Northern California Savings and Loan.
So, for the moment, Terry's worst problems were solved, and if everything seemed, more than a slight bit bizarre, it was really not her place to worry unduly about the more complicated aspects of the whole situation. She had only to stand there, acting as a hostess for the nice men from Katmayama Lighters which Elaine's husband Jake seemed to have some sort of connection with. In return for serving hors d'oeuvres and smiling, every other Wednesday evening she would be getting quite a nice little salary, more than enough to pay for the monthly loan payment, and if it was being just the least bit deceitful to Bill, well, it just could not be helped.
Of course, when Elaine had first explained the sort of job that this would be, Terry Dawson had felt more than a little dubious, but honestly, she thought, it's better than sitting in an awful office doing typing and filing, as she had done before her marriage to Bill Dawson. And, considering the alternative--being overdrawn at the bank, a fight with Bill, maybe even losing their house--why, there really was no choice left to the young housewife.
However, her white lie to Bill had left Terry Dawson feeling a certain sort of guilt that she'd never experienced in the five years of their marriage. They had always been so very honest with each other, and she for one had never even thought to question whether her husband might be not telling her the truth. Terry hoped sincerely that one day, when this was all water under the bridge, when their bills were paid, they would be able to talk about this and laugh. She hoped she could tell him, perhaps lying in bed one morning. Of course he'd be a little bit angry for a little while, but it wouldn't be too bad. Why, maybe he would even be secretly proud of her for doing it. At least, it could be no worse than it would be now if he found out how bad it was down at the bank, and that was one thing she was just going to not let him find out, not if she could possibly help it.
Terry hoped that her little lie about having to go across the town to visit her friend from the gardening club, Mrs. Anna Holm, had sounded perfectly plausible to her young husband. Anna and she would rather often get together to go over the garden catalogues which arrived periodically, and although there was not much of a reason for the older lady to wish to look at gardening catalogues at five o'clock in the evening, Bill had not sounded in the least bit suspicious when she'd told him about it.
As Terry's mind mulled over these things, she began to notice that the men from the Katayama Lighters Inc. seemed to all be coming out of the large room where they had been talking. The meeting must now be finished, and now her real work would come, which was a little vague to Terry's mind, and seemed to consist only of being extremely charming and smiling happily to the emissaries of Katayama. Her friend Elaine Travis, who stood elegantly across the room, seemed to be doing just exactly that.
"My dear girl, you are doing just fine," came Elaine's voice, and she waved ever-so-brightly to Terry. Terry smiled back.
Why, she's so awfully nice, she thought once again. What a lucky woman I am to have a friend like her! Terry had never dreamed that the fashionable Elaine Travis had actually worked for a living, but when Elaine explained to her that it helped her husband so much in his business of organizing annual meetings for groups of executives, it seemed so nice and sort of cozy that they helped each other.
The conversation in the now-crowded room was rising, and the bartender was busy serving drinks to the executives in their business suits. Soon a voice was solicitously asking Terry herself if she would like a drink, and she turned to face an attractive man in his forties.
"What can I get you, sweetie?" he inquired in a too-familiar voice which caused Terry to instinctively recoil. Her automatic reaction to this would have been, "No thank you sir," moving gracefully but haughtily across the room, remembering her instructions from Elaine Travis, the voluptuously formed brunette only widened her aching smile and, in a voice she did not recognize, purred.
"Thanks, I'd love a nice drink. Oh . . . maybe a Stoned Sour." As the balding, obviously well-off man walked purposefully to the bar, Terry sighed in relief and congratulated herself on her poise. She wondered vaguely just what a Stoned Sour would turn out to be--at least its name, which she had heard someone use earlier, sounded interesting. The young wife didn't usually drink, but Elaine had told her it would be extremely rude to turn down anything these nice men might offer to her, explaining how lonely they were, meeting in Sunnyvale far away from their wives and children.
Terry resolved to be just as nice as she possible could be, to help the poor men, even though it seemed sort of. .. well, just a little odd, that was all.
Within several minutes, Terry's escort had returned with her drink, and she sipped the deceptively fruit juice-tasting concoction thirstily. Striving to be friendly, she said to her companion brightly, "My name is Terry Dawson and I'm new to Sunnyvale too! I've only been here a year. How long will you be staying in our town?"
The balding man, who was drinking Scotch on the rocks, put his arm protectively around Terry, so protectively, in fact, that he crushed her right up against his chest, with his hand resting on the side of her left breast. "Well, honey," he drawled in an accent the young brunette could not quite locate, "Ah'm Dennis Perry, and South Carolinah's mah home. Myrtle Beach, South Carolinah's mah home. Myrtle Beach, South Carolinah, the jewel of the whole earth! But babeee," and he squeezed her more tightly than ever, "we haven't got anyone like you theah, so maybe ah'll be here in Sunnyvale a good lahng time!"
Terry looked up in fright at the man who called himself Dennis Perry. Was he trying to be funny with her? she wondered. She tried to gracefully extricate her body from his grasp, but it proved to be an impossible task, and his hand against her left breast was now moving. He was not only holding her in a fatherly embrace, he was stroking her firmly fleshed mound in the most intimate way, over the fabric of her brassiere and turtleneck pullover!
My goodness, but this was too much! Terry looked about desperately, her eyes roving across the crowded, smoke-filled room in search of her one friend, Elaine. Finally she caught a glimpse of the provocative blonde woman, also dressed in a short tight outfit and absurdly high patent leather platform shoes. And Elaine was surrounded by five or six executives, laughing and giggling and sipping her drink, almost as though she were a teenager at a Coke party.
Terry could tell that it would be hopeless, and of course embarrassing to call to Elaine to help her out of the clutches of this southern gentleman who must be missing his wife and children awfully much to want to hold onto the curvaceous brunette's body in such a protective manner! Instead, she raised her hand, emptied the sweet liquid of her drink into her mouth, and said, "Excuse me, please, Mr. Perry, but I'm just awfully thirsty. I'll be back in a minute!"
Before Dennis Perry had time to protest, or to gallantly offer to fetch the wide-eyed brunette another drink himself, she had expertly slipped from his clutches, and was soon teetering quickly away on her too-high heels, in the direction not of the well-stocked bar, but of the ladies washroom.
Although Terry not only carefully removed and reapplied every bit of her make-up with a carefulness and painstakingness that was only slightly marred by the shaking of her hand, she realized she could not stay in the washroom forever. And yet. . . did she dare to go back into that room? Dennis Perry had touched her in such a terribly familiar manner--what sort of a woman did he think she was? Elaine had never made her expect anything of this nature, that was certain!
But, oh dear, her alcohol-clouded mind continued. It seemed so awfully innocent the way Elaine was handling the entire situation. What was wrong with herself, that she could not do this casually and happily? It must be that she'd been so shut away for so awfully long, so truly protected from the harshness of the outside world by her husband and her home and her garden. Why, she seldom went out at all, except to do the marketing and to go the nursery to buy plants. Aside from the other neighbors, she saw almost no one at all.
It's just Bill and I, she thought, just a little world for the two of us. And this thought, which so many previous times had made Terry Dawson feel a warm and secure tingling in her innermost heart, now had the opposite effect. Maybe that's the problem with me now, said a part of her mind. I could flirt in high school, but now I've forgotten how to do anything!
Leaning on the basin of the ladies washroom of the Old City Hall Building, Terry surveyed her features. She was, she conceded to herself, if anything, even prettier than she had been in her high school days. The few crows feet she had accumulated hardly showed beneath her carefully applied make-up and her skin not only had a healthy glow from three weeks in Hawaii, but radiated a youth and beauty of its own.
Smiling brightly at her mirrored image, Terry picked up her handbag and, swaying slightly from the one drink she'd had, left the privacy of the ladies washroom for the noise and tumult outside.
* * *
"Long time no see," called the loud voice of the bartender. "We were missing you, little lady. We were about to send the diving crew in after you!"
A roar of laughter came from the business men who crowded around the bar, but Terry felt suddenly strong and undaunted. "I'm still here, fellas," she called gaily, amazed at the bright and confident sound of her own voice, and too inexperienced to be aware of the fact that the Stoned Sour she'd belted down was having its effects.
An instant later, another Stoned Sour was in her hand, and another man, a Jack Trayer of Bristol, Virginia, was telling her how he wished they "made 'em like her back home." It was silly, Terry knew, but it wasn't so bad after all; it was even flattering, really! It felt good to have all these attractive men swarming about, and her Stoned Sour tasted so good that she was soon drinking her third one.
When Elaine came over to the young brunette housewife, she smiled happily at her. "You're just like an old professional hostess!"
Terry felt a warm glow all through her body. It was very stuffy inside the large and smoky room, so she unbuttoned her blazer. A tall gray-haired man was passing her as she did so, and he reached out and tweaked at her breast, which thrust so prominently against the jersey fabric of her tight blue turtleneck. But Terry only smiled, pulling back playfully.
"Oh no you don't," she cried coyly, and this time her voice was slurred. But it didn't matter; it was a gigantic party and everyone liked her, and besides, it wasn't for real.. .
CHAPTER FOUR
Terry reeled back clumsily but a pair of hands caught her alcohol-distorted body, and helped her to stand up again. The sun-tanned brunette housewife was certainly drunk--it could not be denied. It must have been those Stoned Sours, she thought, but they didn't taste like anything that would do this to me. Before that final drink--was it her fourth or only her third?--she had felt perfectly fine, just a little extra-happy, sort of, but now her head was reeling in a manner that only meant one thing.
Someone took the young woman by the hand and led her firmly over to an armchair, and she gratefully sank into its cushiony depths. What was happening to her? The room had begun to lurch and spin around as though she were on some hellish carnival ride down at the Santa Cruz Boardwalk. Terry held her head in her hand, watching the room turn upside down from her chair.
The alcohol-soaked brain of the young woman slowly stopped spinning in such a disconcerting manner. Slowly, the room and its occupants righted themselves. Slowly, she could perceive that she was still among Elaine and all her new businessman friends, that no one was hurting her, that all was perfectly all right. A-Ok, like the kids in the neighborhood would say.
In the front of the room a man of Japanese descent had begun to speak, and comparative quiet descended upon the room. Terry took her head from her hands. Pull yourself together, she told herself harshly, You're not all that drunk, you silly girl. Admonishing herself was an old habit, a hangover really from her lonely childhood, when she would invent imaginary playmates and tell them all what to do. And still, silly as it might sound, it tended to work, so she kept on doing it. Come on, Terry, she willed silently, refocusing her gaze on the room before her eyes.
"In the year that has so quickly passed since the last annual meeting," the speaker was saying, "many changes have come to pass within the corporation of Katayama Lighters, and our many models are being shipped all over the world. Not only are our silver- and gold-plated hand lighters gaining constantly in stature, but our table models are now being seen in the best homes and offices in Europe, South America, North America, Africa, Australia, and of course in Asia. We are especially pleased with the great strides we have made right here in the United States of America, and there are no people to thank for this success as much as the fifty representatives here tonight."
Mr. Nishide paused pointedly, and was soon rewarded by drunken calls and applause. He smiled happily, and continued.
"And now that our annual meeting here in beautiful Sunnyvale is already drawing to a close, I want to thank each one of you for being here to join us, and especially I want to thank Mr. and Mrs. Jake Travis for their kind help, and also tonight, Mrs. Terry Dawson, who had been so lovely."
Terry heard more cheers and applause, and even a few loud wolf whistles. Tipsy but happy, Terry colored and smiled. It's so wonderful, she thought dreamily. Everyone's being so nice.
"And, as a special token of our esteem, before the party begins..."
Before the party begins? wondered the young housewife's hazy mind. Before the party begins? Why, what was all this that had been happening?
But she was not given a chance to worry for very long. The Japanese man up on the platform was grinning from ear to ear and loudly repeating her name. "Terry Dawson! Mrs. Terry Dawson, we have a little something from our world famous cigarette lighter company just for you! Could you come up here please?"
Oh heavens, thought the tipsy brunette. Can I ever walk that far? But somehow she did; somehow she managed, in spite of her drunken state, to rise and, lasciviously swaying her shapely buttocks underneath her tight skirt, she teetered to the platform.
* * *
Right, thought Elaine Travis. Everything is coming along just right. That sweet little broad is as smashed as a coed at her first fraternity party, and you can bet she's going to loosen up now! Why, my dear girl, you're really going to have a time of it now! Best thing that ever happened to you, cooped up in this god-awful town with the prude you married!
Elaine Travis was certain that her little plan was falling into place just like clockwork. And why shouldn't it really? This wasn't the first time that she and Jake had been able to help out little girls with money problems. Why, one of those girls, who had come dead broke to the Bay Area back in '68, had helped them out for three years, and had a real ball doing it. She'd finally married a used car dealer and lived in a big house up in St. Francis Wood, and didn't work at all, except to tell the maids what to do.
That girl, a little Mary Flint, had been even more innocent that Terry Dawson, even more reluctant to enter into a swinging world, but after a few nights, she'd loosened right up and got into the spirit of things. And there didn't seem to be a reason in the whole world why Terry wouldn't fit in that same old pattern. The forty year old blonde tossed her curly, youthful head of hair and smiled to herself.
Hell, it was too easy really! Jake always wanted to be cautious about this sort of thing, wanted to keep the many business which the Travises jointly controlled "straight" as he'd say. He had a clear and level head about making money; he wanted a lot of it and he knew all the ropes so he could do things legally and never run into trouble. Often he would admonish Elaine to be more careful, to be really sure about trying out a new broad, or a new couple especially. But Elaine waved his disquiet away, claiming she had a sixth sense about this sort of thing. What's more, she could sniff out candidates who were ready and willing just like a bloodhound could sniff out a lost child, and she was justly proud of this ability.
Now, watching Bill Dawson's wife seductively swaying her way up to the platform, fifty pairs of eyes riveted to her lushly-rounded ass-cheeks, Elaine Travis was all the more sure she had made a wise selection when she asked the younger woman if she could "help out" at the Katayama Lighters Annual meeting. And she couldn't wait till the real fun began!
* * *
Tripping gaily, and nearly oblivious of her own semi-intoxicated state of consciousness, the well-formed brunette ascended the platform. And suddenly she was excited to be there, excited to know that she was the center of attention. It's just like it was in college, she thought happily. No dirty dishes or bathrobes or loan payments--just attractive men and parties and occasionally drinking just a tiny wee bit too much sometimes!
In girlish excitement she unwrapped the small package she was presented with. It was a tiny gold box, and inside the box was a gold-plated cigarette lighter. "Oh, how awfully nice you are," she exclaimed, thinking it really was a pity that Bill had made her give up smoking cigarettes when they had just gotten engaged to be married.
But when the still-dizzily swaying brunette had returned to her seat, she felt a pang of conscience stab through her confused brain. It was just too bad that she had to lie to Bill, and the memory of that unpleasantness put a damper on her state of enthusiasm. She would have to bell more lies, and she would have to hide this nice Japanese lighter. Oh, what was wrong with her that she was enjoying herself while Bill, her good, brave, honest husband was sitting, unsuspectingly, in their wood-paneled study, poring over his books on airplane repairs!
But they needed money, she told herself resolutely. They needed to make money and why shouldn't she enjoy herself while she did so? After all, Bill was away all day long, being at an exciting place, and . .. But Terry Dawson's intoxicated reverie was interrupted by something that made her forget her own personal dilemma, something that really caused her to sit up and gasp.
An excited ripple of laughter and general commotion was coming from the end of the large room, just across from the doorway to the hall. Terry looked up, blinking hard to focus her brown eyes. Why, suddenly everyone was crowding around the end of the room, crowding and shoving and talking excitedly. A doorway which she had not noticed before was opened and people were pushing and pointing inside.
What can this be? thought the young, bewildered housewife. Is this the party they had alluded to? Once again she struggled up from her chair, suddenly conscious of the fact that she was officially here to "help out" and she'd better do something. Maybe ask Elaine about going into the kitchen to get some coffee and those nice homemade brownies she'd seen while they were preparing the hors d'oeuvres. But where was Elaine, anyway?
Suddenly she felt a strong masculine hand taking her by the arm; looking up in vague surprise and gratefulness, Terry saw that it was the man from Myrtle Beach whom she'd spoken to earlier in the evening. What was his name anyway? She mustn't appear to be rude or forgetful, she knew, and she struggled with her memory. Oh yes, Dennis Perry, that was it, wasn't it?
"Looks like you need a little help, sweetie," his slow Southern voice drawled close to her ear. Together they walked to the doorway, and a sight greeted Terry Dawson's eyes that she'd never forget for as long as she lived!
* * *
A figure was in the doorway, a woman's figure. Who can it be . .. what is she doing ... it took Terry's befogged mind a few instants to register the situation, but when she did, the significance hit her like a ton of bricks.
For the figure belonged to her helpful friend, Elaine Travis, and Elaine was taking off her clothes!
"C'mon baby," a voice yelled in. excitement. "Take it off, pumpkin!"
My God, what was Elaine doing! This couldn't be real! Terry sank back in confusion, and only Dennis Perry's strong hands on her body kept her from falling to the ground. For suddenly the ordinary cocktail party was over; suddenly the nice speeches and cigarette lighters were over; something new had taken their place, and it was something Terry had never seen, never known, something she feared with all her heart!
"How about it, guys?" came Elaine's voice, and gone from it was the cultivated accent, the careful phrasings, the upper class inflections. "Wanna see some more, fellas?" she called out to the all-too-eager mass of fifty leering males. She was hard and brash and Terry had to blink her own eyes very hard to remind herself that the two Elaine Travises were one and the same person!
The astounded brunette was in such a state of shock that she was not aware that someone's arm was around her own waist, and numbly, unthinkingly, she filed through the doorway along with all the Katayama Lighter representatives, filed through with no thought of just what was about to happen to herself!
One after another the men, with Terry in their midst, pushed and shoved their mesmerized way into the room where Elaine Travis was taking off her clothes. It was a large room, though not nearly so large as the impersonal lodge-type room they had just been in. Instead it was a luxuriously furnished place, with red velvet draperies over the windows, red and gold velvet-covered couches, and an immense bed, also covered in the identical wine-red velvet material, with gold satin pillows casually tossed about it.
Terry could hardly hear herself think above the enthusiastic din of shouts and yells. Her head had begun to ache with the noise, until she felt mesmerized. Sinking her well-rounded body into the nearest couch, she watched, her eyes riveted to the provocative blonde who stood in the center of the room.
Elaine Travis was dressed--or partly dressed--in a gold lame jumpsuit, tightly fitting in the bodice and over the hips, but with loose billowing legs. On her feet were similar gold lame high heels. Long red jewels dangled from her ears. Slowly, gently, provocatively, she was weaving back and forth to the tempo of the music. From side to side swayed her buxom body, her arm over her head in a graceful curve. And, as she subtly, sensuously moved, her right hand was ever-so-slowly pulling down the gold zipper which ran all the way down the front of her skin-tight garment.
Right in front of fifty hypnotized men and one innocent Sunnyvale housewife, the curvaceous blonde teasingly removed her clothes. There was not a sound in the room, and the atmosphere felt tense and electric. Terry herself hardly dared to breathe. It was terrible, terrible, but terribly wonderful, and she could not possibly get out of her chair ... she was held in the grip of the erotic spectacle.
Slowly moving her hips, the voluptuous woman continued to pull the lame jumpsuit away from her bronzed flesh. She swayed backwards, forwards, always exactly in time to the music, tossing her blonde curls as the stereo thumped out its sensual African drum beat. Now the zipper was all the way down to her navel, and then men gasped as one man as the front of her suit opened, exposing the ample curves of her full breasts as she danced. And then she pulled the zipper even further, and the jumpsuit fell open. The luscious stripper's naked breasts tumbled free from their confines, and they swayed in heavy, provocative abandonment as she continued to rock and grind her hips with a further lustful intensity.
Not a pair of eyes in the room was not wide with amazed awe and desire, watching the lascivious display of Elaine Travis's luscious body, watching a woman strip in lustful abandonment, watching a woman strip and knowing she was doing so in the most lustful, unabashed pleasure! And what a woman! Elaine's full, womanly figure, rounded but firmly youthful, was enough to mesmerize any man.
Not only were the gathered representatives delighted to see such a beautiful woman undressing before their very eyes, but the fact that this woman was no old and hardened professional, no tight-breasted, tight-fisted club stripper, was unexplainably erotic. She wasn't any old prostitute, but a lovely and charming, obviously cultured woman, and she was peeling off her clothes right in front of fifty pairs of leering, lustful eyes. Fifty men felt that they were going to go insane with agonizing desire as her slow movements quickened, and the music pulsed its message into every body in the room, as Elaine's sensuous body writhed its obvious message to each and every eager lighter representative.
Balding Dennis Perry, Terry's former escort from whom she had escaped into the washroom, had now maneuvered himself next to her place in the chair, and his one hand rested on her shoulder, but she barely noticed at all. In fact, if anything, she felt grateful for the touch, for the reassurance of a sort of reality in this mad sea of searing, pulsing sensuality.
Dennis felt his body throbbing along with the intoxicating rhythm, and his cock began to ache, painfully desirous. He closed his eyes and imagined the stripper's pussy, her wet and clinging depths that would soon be revealed. The music rose and fell in a steady, undulating wantonness; and he longed for it to hurry . . . and yet longed as well for it to go on forever, for it never to stop.
Elaine's bejeweled hand went slowly up to one of her breasts, and she cupped it, cupped the voluptuous firm heaviness. It stood up high and proud, quivering in the half-light, and her own fingers caressed the bronzed flesh. As she danced, her upthrust mounds moved with an intensity of their own, swaying along with her body, but also somehow apart, as though they were alive, separate, asking and aching and inviting. Her sun-bronzed nipples were already tautened with excitement, as though they themselves longed to be taken deeply into a man's eager, salivating mouth, and every man present felt his own mouth water, imagining himself to be just the recipient of that warm, living flesh.
Maneuvering delicately, with a practiced air, the dancing woman pulled the shimmering jumpsuit from her shapely arms. Never missing a beat, she continued to lower it, revealing her silken belly, with only a tiny pair of transparent bikini panties to cover her entire voluptuous nakedness. Her jumpsuit hung, only for an instant, still covering her legs, but revealing her arms and torso and achingly swaying belly; and then, in a swift movement, it fell to the floor. Elaine kicked it aside, not interrupting her dance for an instant, kicking her shoes off as well.
Then she paused for just a moment, smiling in provocative intensity to the fifty men, thrusting out her body in unashamed desire. She spun slowly around revealing buttocks every bit as shapely as her full bosom, buttocks barely covered by the fine transparent panties.
Above the beat of the music could be heard hoarse breathing as each man's fantasies came into full play, as each man imagined and desired himself ripping those tight transparent, crotch-moist panties from this swaying woman! Elaine's hips ground back and forth in teasing, luring motions, like a bullfighter slowly swinging his red scarf in front of a blood-angry bull. It was as though she was teasing, daring someone to jump up from his chair and yank those panties down over the firm swell of her hips, down over the gently curling pubic hair, down her long sun-tanned legs.
Elaine Travis was lost in the rapture of her erotic dance, tasting and savoring the thrill of prolonged desire. In maddeningly teasing gestures, she ran her hands along her full body, softly caressing her own warm flesh in narcissistic delight, just as she knew each man present wanted to caress her. With graceful movements, her hands and fingertips titillated her breasts, her belly, her inner thighs, just barely brushing over the surface of her silken skin, until finally her fingers reached the elastic waistband of her transparent panties. Even now she did not hurry; slowly and tantalizingly, still swaying like a tribal princess, she rolled them down over the womanly swelling of her youthfully ripe ass-cheeks, exposing her deliciously naked buttocks to each male eye.
In an unmistakably salacious gesture, Elaine Travis unashamedly thrust out her ass-cheeks, rotating them invitingly. The smooth flesh of her bottom gleamed in the light as she waved the jutting mounds to her audience. Every man present felt his own cock stiffen with desire; every many yearned uncontrollably for the joy of ramming his blood-swollen penis into the hidden wetness between the smooth globes of Elaine's buttocks.
Mercilessly tantalizing, Elaine now reached for her panties again, which rested, half-removed, just underneath her silky pubic hair. Parting her thighs, she now lowered those silken panties, easing them along her bare silken-smooth legs. Gracefully, she stepped out of them and, in an openly wanton movement, raised them to her face, inhaling the perfume of her desirous cuntal furrow.
And then she tossed them aside and writhed in full, uninhibited nakedness. And every man knew her writhing was as full of sexual promise as it could ever be. Suddenly Terry Dawson, sitting quietly, tipsily, in her armchair, her own pussy tingling with the electricity that permeated the room, was aware of what was happening. At first it had been a dance, a dance in questionable taste, perhaps, but still. . . she knew women did, occasionally, strip for men, like at the North Beach clubs she and Bill never even went to . . . but this was more, much more!
Terry looked hurriedly for the door, but there were so many men there, so many people around. She tried to stand up, but a firm hand pushed her down. Her head spun. She felt a hand on her breast, and another hand on her neck, and another hand reaching for her own firm thigh.
"No!" she cried. "No, no, no ... " But her own feeble words sounded weak, coming from a dream.
And then Elaine's voice, dark and sultry and alive with sexuality. "Well, boys, what are you waiting for?" And, without a further warning, the dimly lit room was plunged into total darkness!
Terry felt bodies pushing, shoving, probing. She could barely walk but somehow hands were propelling her along, up from her chair. Her jacket was pulled off, her turtleneck yanked over her head. A dozen hands were shoving at her, at her thighs, her breasts. . . and then she felt her brassiere being ripped away with a tearing sound, and her skirt tugged off, and in a dark and swirling heat of hands and tongues and voices, she found herself lying on the red velvet bed.
Terry felt as though she were in a delirium, as though she were in a mad dream. Between her legs burned still the sensation that Elaine's maddening dance had awakened in every single member of her audience, and her brain was numbed by alcohol.
"No ... no ... " she cried again, reeling in the darkness of intoxicated nightmare! "Let me go!" But her mouth was covered by moist hard lips, and she felt the hot breathing of a man kissing her with passionate intensity, and her words were stilled as sensation swept through her trembling body.
CHAPTER FIVE
Out of the dark depths came hands touching Terry Dawson's sensitive flesh, and the young brunette wife felt a sickening sense of doom falling upon her unsuspecting self. So this was her reward for trying to get herself out of that rotten money situation without letting Bill know what her plans were! Surely Bill would have understood .. . surely she should have told him what Elaine had suggested .. . surely he would have found another way. Oh, where was he now, her own darling husband. Why was it happening? Why? Why?
But Terry's sickened heart knew at its bottom-most depths, that now there was no turning back, struggle as she might against the unknown mouths and hands which so obscenely and disrespectfully were now handling her nearly-denuded flesh. Her goose bumped skin was chill with an unspeakable terror, and her intoxicated mind was not so drunk as to be unaware of the fate which was about to befall her. And it's all my fault, wailed her agonized mind, fighting back hot tears of self-pity. All my gosh-darned stupid fault.
If only she could turn back the clock with one magic gesture, if only she could be back at home now, maybe fixing some tea and writing letters to the friends she'd left behind in Newport Beach, while Bill read his books. If only .. . but the time was right now, here in Sunnyvale's old City Hall, and heaven alone knew what was about to happen to the trembling brunette!
And then the lights were on again, or one light, someplace in the room, and Terry looked around herself for the first time. Why, where had everyone gone? Where was Elaine? Only two men remained in the ornate room, surrounding the frightened woman--there was Sam Nishide, the man who had made that speech and given her a cigarette lighter, and there was Dennis Perry who had followed her about all evening. And then there was darkness.
But they're smiling, thought Terry. They're both my friends. They won't hurt me. . . She sank back gratefully on the big bed, closing her eyes, for once again her head had begun to spit out of control. She felt a hand then, tugging at the elastic of her panties which were all that protected the confused woman from being totally naked. Instinctively, she tried to shield herself, but strong hands held her motionless and unable to move.
Voices then, harsh male voices . . . footsteps coming and going . . . powerful fingers caressing Terry's bare belly, rough fingers along the swelling curve of her hip. Hands held her down on the bed, but they were gentle and skillful hands, hands whose every move sent unwanted tingles coursing along her spine into the hot depths of her belly.
An alien hand touched the sensitive bronze flesh of her inner thigh; instinctively, she attempted to clench her legs and keep this intruding hand from reaching her. But more hands touched, more hands reached for her thighs, caressed her upturned buttocks. She felt suddenly dizzy, on a strange carousel of rough hands and nakedness and tremors of desire.
But when Terry Dawson's beclouded consciousness felt a hand and a stiffened masculine finger slip between her parted thighs and into the moistened crevice of her pussy, she suddenly became aware of what she was doing! No! She could not simply lie there and be ravished by these men! No, it would never never never happen, and not all the liquor in the world would let her forget this; with a sudden burst of strength she did not realize she possessed, she twisted free of their grip, screaming for all the vulnerably naked woman was worth.
"Aaaahh!" she yelled loudly. "Let me go!" She bit and fought and tears poured down her face, shocked into sobriety. And she screamed again.
Suddenly the lights went on. A hard voice said, "All right, knock it off!" Ceasing to scream, Terry saw, through her tears, Elaine Travis's big husband Jake. He looked hard and businesslike and dead sober.
Dennis Perry spoke up then. "We all were just havin' a little bit of fun with your new helper." he looked a bit apologetic, even as he said those words. Both he and Sam Nishide had backed off from the trembling naked woman.
"Well, just get the fuck out of here, and have your fun someplace else!" barked Jake. "This is a party, not a goddamn rape session." To Terry, he said, "Now stop crying, little girl. No one's going to hurt you."
Terry sniffed and wiped her eyes, watching as Sam and Dennis sheepishly filed from the ornately furnished room. The racking sobs had ceased, but still she could not abate her quietly falling tears. Suddenly, it seemed all to clear that she had come so close to having her body defiled by these ultimate strangers, so close to betraying her own dear husband in the most terrible act of shameless adultery!
"You'd better come with me now," said Jake in a commanding tone to the sniffling young wife. "The last thing we need around here is a hysterical broad!" His words were harsh, but his tone was gentle and his eyes looked concerned.
Terry stood up but sank back down on the bed in sobbing despair. "But I-I'm naked," she cried. "They ripped off all my clothes!" Burying her head in her hands in sudden shame, she cried quietly. She felt so terrible, so violated, like a slut off the street, shamelessly sitting in front of her friend's husband with not a stitch of clothing to conceal her voluptuously curved body from anyone's eyes.
But Jake Travis, Elaine's dark-haired husband, seemed hardly to be aware of Terry's state of nakedness. Ignoring the crumpled pile of garments lying on the floor, he removed his own jacket and handed it to her, helping her to struggle into it. Then he took the still-crying brunette by the hand and led her out a doorway and down a hall. She clutched his jacket tightly around her full body, grateful for its rough fabric, its tweedy masculine feel against her skin.
* * *
In the quiet of Jake's little office at the end of the hallway, Terry Dawson washed the tears from her face with some of Elaine's nice sweet smelling soap, scrubbing hard as though to wash away every bit of defilement. Wearing a loose terrycloth robe, belonging to Jake himself, she walked out into the little kitchenette where her hose was brewing a pot of strong coffee.
"Feel better?" he inquired. "Here, we'll get some of this into you, and then I'll drive you home." He set the pot of coffee, a decanter of cognac, two cups and two glasses onto a tray and carried them out to a low table in front of a black leather couth. Terry noticed in spite of herself, that his cock was bulging quite noticeably inside his fashionably tight trousers. He sat down close beside his impromptu guest on the leather couch.
Jake poured two cups of coffee and two glasses of cognac, handing Terry's to her shaking hands. "Look like you need these, kid," he said gently. He managed to maneuver himself close enough to Terry on the couch so that his thigh was touching hers. A hot flash of desire shot through his loins at the contact, but he restrained himself.
Easy Jake, he cautioned his impatient body. You don't want to frighten her -that'd ruin everything.
Terry sipped gratefully at her coffee. She felt a little silly now, in front of Elaine's good-looking husband, silly about having lost her head and made such a mountain out of what now seemed like an easily avoidable situation.
"I'm-I'm sorry about screaming," she said hesitantly.
"Well," said the older man smoothly, "it really wasn't your fault. "Sometimes Elaine doesn't really prepare people to expect what is going to happen. If she'd make more of an effort, well..." He left his sentence dangling, and Terry, looking up into her host's eyes, felt a moment of protective pity for this nice, graying man. After all, Elaine was surely beautiful, but it must be--well, chaotic--to share a life with the ravishing blonde woman.
As he spoke, the licentious businessman placed his hand on Terry's back and began to massage it gently with his fingertips. He felt her body tense up beneath his touch, but as she did not try to move away, he slowly worked his hand around her ribs so that it was gently grazing against the side of her full, trembling breast.
"But I mean I'm really grateful that you got me out of there," Terry chattered on, the black coffee making her more lucid if not actually more sober. She knew Jake was being tremendously kind, but the way he stroked her back revived those sensations which had been tormenting her body before, and that made her feel so terribly embarrassed and confused, that she really didn't know quite what he was saying.
"Yeah, it was getting pretty crude," Jake commented, having decided that the way into this obviously desirous woman's pussy was through her romantic mind. "Those guys have been on the damn road so long that they don't know anything about love."
"Yes," breathed the young woman, now sipping at her cognac. "I'm so glad you can see it that way. I guess I don't know what came over me, but I know I've had too much to drink, and I just didn't know what was happening for a few minutes."
"I can imagine," Jake said in a sympathetic tone, positioning his mouth close to Terry's brown curls. "Sometimes that wife of mine doesn't stay to the rules at all. . . sometimes she just gets so carried away."
A tiny voice inside Terry's brain warned her that the handsome businessman was sitting entirely too close to her, but she felt so warm and contented, so relaxed, finally, that it seemed impossible to pull away from his simple, innocent caress. And anyway, it was such a relief to talk with someone who understood the way she was feeling! Ignoring the vague trepidation which lurked in the back of her mind, she leaned back happily against Jake's strong shoulder, like a little girl who knows that her daddy will make everything all right.
"It's no nice to meet a man who understands how I feel," she confided. "Back there, I felt like I was all alone, in a mass of strangers. And I know I can't tell Bill about it, and I've just got to tell somebody."
"You mustn't feel afraid to tell me," soothed the older man, tightening his grip about her lissome body. As he spoke, he could feel Terry relaxing and pressing her warm young figure closer against his own. A strong shiver of lewd excitement shot through his loins, and in a moment he'd forgotten his mental words, and could only concentrate on the more immediate needs of his desirous penis.
"You mustn't ever be afraid of not joining into a crowd when that isn't for you," he continued slyly. "For some women, it's so much better to be alone with one man. For some women like you . . . and some men like myself."
Terry nodded happily, her previous nervousness forgotten. Finally someone was understanding her predicament. Although she knew his wife would feel her to be a prude, and although her husband Bill would surely consider her a low-grade slut, if he ever knew, finally here was someone who at least approached an understanding of the confused feelings which still continued to rack her beclouded mind.
"While Elaine," continued Jake, "needs to realize that every man in a room appreciates her beauty, there are people like you and I who only desire one person's attention at a time, and indeed, can't cope with a whole roomful of humans." He looked at the worried brunette in quite sympathy. "I understand you more than you could possibly know," he murmured.
Although the brooding man's last statement was a tiny bit incomprehensible to the still-intoxicated brunette, Terry admired the inspiring sound of his words. She was trying to think of a suitable reply, and it took her a few minutes to notice that her host's hands were gently smoothing over the full trembling mounds of her breasts. Feeling her still-aroused body flush again with desire, the bewildered brunette wondered confusedly what was happening.
What's wrong with me, anyway, she thought. There's this same terrible feeling, but it's much stronger now. J must be such an evil woman; Jake's only trying to comfort me, and I feel these horrible and depraved desires... He's only talking about his wife, and why must I be thinking things like this?
Terry blushed in confusion as she stared aghast at Jake's strong, masculine hands. Sipping her cognac, she knew she should pull away from him, but she was afraid of causing the sophisticated man to feel she was afraid. After all, he had practically saved her very life, and now she must not act as though he was someone to fear. Striving for self-possession, Terry reached for her cognac again, swallowing the remains of the glass in a single shot.
"You're the kind of woman who I've always known could understand a man like myself," Jake murmured in an urgent whisper to the curvaceous brunette. "Elaine is so harsh sometimes, and I need softness, gentleness." As he spoke, his hands began to graze her breasts, covered only by his own loosely tied terrycloth robe, with an animalistic intensity.
Terry caught her breath. She knew she had to make him stop before things went too far again. The urgent massaging felt so good against her warm flesh, and she felt tingles of response course through her entire body. "P-Please, Jake," she stammered, her face flushing red. "P-Please stop. You mustn't do that, please. I-I'm a married woman, you know."
"Why not, Terry," the dark-haired man murmured into her ear in a seductive manner. He nibbled gently at her earlobe. "If you didn't really want to, you wouldn't be here tonight, you know. You'd be at home with that nice little husband of yours who thinks he can mold you into any form and never really looks at your deep needs and desires. Your desires as a real woman."
Was he right? the confused woman asked herself. Wasn't he right? Bill never talked with her like this. As Jake's burning eyes bore into her hotly flushed face, she just didn't know what to think. Her brain whirled out of control, and the confused woman took another gulp of her now-cold coffee.
"What's wrong with me touching you?" whispered Jake once again. "I'll make you feel like you never felt before," he continued in his silken smooth voice, his skilful fingers tweaking teasingly at her nipples. Even through the coarse terrycloth of his robe, he could feel the tiny pleasure-buds jump into erect little buttons beneath his feverish touch.
"No, please!" exclaimed Terry in agitation. I should just pull away, her mind told her. I mustn't listen to the things he says. I must go home. . . I must go home. . .
Yet the aroused brunette did not move to get off the couch. Another voice was speaking to her also, a voice that said to stay, stay just for a minute, stay and feel the infinite comfort and warmth of this handsome man's arms, enjoy his touch, enjoy his attention. And part of this voice was because she was afraid, so afraid, to stumble into her own house, intoxicated and tousled, and face her husband. No, she'd put it off just for a few more minutes.
Jake's maddening manipulations of Terry's nipples was sending hot flashes of intensity throughout her eager young loins, and he could feel the brunette relax underneath his skilled touch. He congratulated himself on his own powers of persuasion, knowing in a sixth sense that Terry Dawson's words were only feeble protests, knowing that she longed for a man to bring her mature body to full womanly delights. And he knew -instinctively, perhaps by the unfulfilled look she'd always had in her brown eyes -that Bill Dawson hadn't been doing this.
Wordlessly, Jake's hands unfastened the loose sash of the terrycloth robe which was wrapped about the voluptuous brunette. Moving so quickly that Terry never had a chance to speak, never had a chance to change her mind, he tugged the material away from her unresisting shoulders.
Terry felt suddenly faint with embarrassment, embarrassed not only at having her naked breasts once again exposed, but even more embarrassed by the fact that somehow, in the course of the evening, this had become commonplace.
A low whine of lust broke from Jake's throat. Shit, when he'd first seen Terry Dawson, he had no idea how luscious she was underneath her rather ordinary and unrevealing garments, and when he'd interrupted that near-rape scene, his first consideration had been to get her to shut up and not cause some bloody confusion about why there was a screaming woman at the Katayama Lighters Annual Meeting. But now that he had her alone, he saw her breasts were fuller and far more voluptuously rounded than he'd ever dared to hope. His body shook with hungry anticipation as the aroused businessman lowered his face to her enticing mounds of sun-bronzed flesh and gently sucked the right nipple into his eager mouth.
Terry quivered in unwanted arousal. No ... no ... no. This couldn't happen. She couldn't let it happen. Humiliation and desire mingled and conflicted in the brunette's confused mind.
She tried to pull herself away from his mouth and his hands, but a feverish electricity held her to him, and she could only whimper in protest.
"Don't be afraid," came Jake's husky whisper as his mouth moved from her swollen breast for just an instant. "You're a woman, and I'm going to show you how wonderful that is. I'm going to show you like you've never felt before."
"Yes," whispered the intoxicated woman, feeling the warmth of cognac swimming through her mind, feeling it tingle through her body. The part of her mind that was still protesting had somehow been lost, and its cry was softer and softer. "Yes," her voice repeated. She trembled, but didn't try to pull away again. Ignoring the voice of her conscience, Terry closed her eyes, allowing the strange waves of erotic bliss to tingle through every nerve ending in her youthful body. Never before had she felt anything like this .. . never in her years of marriage. Even the most wonderful times with her husband Bill had never had this element of suspense, of fear, of untried and unknown sensations.
Terry's soft and tremulous "yes" caused Jake's rigidly swollen cock to lurch against his trousers. Unable to hold himself back any longer, he pressed the brunette back against his black leather couch and began to suck fervently at her quivering breasts, at the same time sliding his hand up under her robe to massage the satin pliancy of her smooth inner thighs.
The touch of the experienced man was subtle, sensuous and totally irresistible to the aroused woman. Everything seemed more and more like a beautiful dream, and no longer did she even try to draw away from his magnetic fingers. A total stranger's hand was stroking up her most intimate regions, between her legs, higher and higher. What would Bill say? But this guilty thought only served to further arouse the innocent woman, only filled her with a strange, sinful, titillating sensation that some masochistic part of her mind responded to in an undreamed-of desire.
Jake Travis sensed, in his experienced mind, that his triumph was already complete, but he continued to mumble soft phrases which were intended to make Terry relax, as his outstretched middle finger rubbed slowly back and forth over the naked lips of her cunt.
A violent shudder wracked Terry's body as she felt Jake's probing finger nudging against the sensitive flesh of her tingling vaginal lips. "Ooooh!" an involuntary moan escaped from between her lips. "Ooooh!" His extended middle finger twirled in little circles around her moistened cuntal furrow, and then rose up to massage the tiny nerve-rich bud of her clitoris, causing it to grow stiff with desire.
"No . . . no . . . not there .. . you mustn't touch me there," moaned the voluptuous brunette, but her voice was weak and lacking conviction. Jake's only response was to caress her breasts and pussy with even more fervent desire, until he could feel her torment subside, and her body begin to vibrate in pleasure beneath his talented hands.
She's ready, he thought happily, lustfully. She's been ready for years, and just waiting for me to discover her.
Jake pulled his hands away from Terry's full-fleshed body for just long enough to rise to his knees and yank off his own clothes. Trembling in anticipation, he jerked down the zipper on his trousers, freeing his swollen penis which had been throbbing in painful desire against his fly. In seconds, he was naked, his hand massaging his rod of aroused male flesh between his fingers, leering expectantly down at the frightened young woman beneath him.
But at the sight of his pulsing, purple-red member, a sort of consciousness returned to the young wife. "I can't!" she cried. "Not that! That's adultery!"
Goddamn bitch! Jake swore to himself. Now here she goes again! Stupid women--can never make up their bloody minds about what they really want!
But the older man was clever enough not to express those thoughts to Terry, and compassionate enough to realize her very real dilemma of confusion between her desires and her concept of morality. He forced himself to speak in a calm and reassuring voice; he forced his face into a mask of understanding. "Don't be afraid," he murmured. "We're not going to do anything that you don't really want to do." He stroked her hair. "I want to touch you," he continued smoothly, "and I know how much you want me to. And I want you to touch me in just the same way, to make me feel good just like I'm making you feel. We don't have to do anything you'll feel badly about."
Perhaps if Terry had been more sober, perhaps if she had had more of her wits about her, she would have replied that she would already feel sorry about this entire sordid evening, but as it was she knew she wanted his touch on her curvaceous body. And it wasn't really making love or anything ... it wasn't really adultery . ..
Taking Terry's limp hand in his own, the lustfully aroused man guided her fingers toward his still erect thickness of cock, forcing her to stroke its pulsating length. Desire coursed through his loins at her timid touch, and he was glad to see that, although she was hesitant, experimental, she no longer appeared to be horrified.
Terry's eyes were half-closed as her fingers brushed over the warm smooth flesh of Jake Travis' elongated penis. It felt so nice and strong, quivering in her hand, larger even than her husband Bill's cock.
"Stroke me, stroke me," Jake urged as Terry's tentative fingers began to move with more sureness of purpose. "See, isn't it nice," he whispered, his own digits tweaking insistently on her damp pussy lips.
"Ummmmmm," whimpered the aroused woman, overcome by the fires of lust flaming in the pit of her belly. Unconsciously she began stroking Jake's hard penis with more and more sensuous caresses, copying the manner in which his fingers aroused her own tensely quivering pussy flesh.
And then, just as Terry had begun to relax in the sinful but stimulating atmosphere, she was totally shocked to find Jake pull his lust-hardened body away from her own, to find him turning so that he knelt directly above her reclining body. His long thick penis dangled inches above the face of the trembling brunette, and before she had time to protest, she felt the incredible sensation of his mouth against her vulnerably naked pussy. How terrible! He was touching her vagina with his mouth, something her husband had never, never done! How depraved and humiliating!
Terry tried to squirm away, tried to open her mouth in protest against this unwanted humiliation, but something stopped her. The hot moist lips closing over her soft trembling pussy-flesh caused a wave of arousal stronger than anything she had yet felt that evening, and involuntarily, she let out a moan of excited desire.
Jake bent his head down to his task, daring his tongue rapidly back and forth over the trembling brunette's rapidly moistening vaginal slit. Then he located the quivering bud of her aroused clitoris, and teased at it with the expertly pointed tip of his tongue.
Her elbows pressed tightly against her body, and her head, out of control, rolled from side to side as his hotly searing tongue shot deep up into her vaginal depths. His lips sucked hungrily, drawing the soft folds of her pussy deep into his ravenous mouth, and his tongue continued its erotic licking against the straining bud of her clitoris. Terry groaned from deep within her throat, sensations she had never dreamed of pulsing through her curvaceous body.
The probing tip of his tongue worked its skilled way up and down the length of Terry's cuntal slit. And, as the woman under him let out moan after moan of suppressed lust, Jake decided she was more than ready.
"I want you to suck me too, Terry," he panted.
But the aroused wife froze. Never had anyone asked her to do that! She had read about it, heard nasty whispers about it from the girls in the dormitory back when she was a coed at Pomona State, but never had her husband asked her to do anything like that! It was for whores. "I can't . . . please . . . not that!" she protested.
Jake Travis paid no heed to Terry's protestations. He had no more patience with which to gently encourage the younger woman. His lust-hardened penis throbbed in a way that demanded instant satisfaction, and he had had enough of this school girl stuff. Damn it, he didn't have to put up with a cock-teaser who only wanted her own pleasure!
A second later, the horrified brunette felt the smooth blunt head of Jake's penis pressing up against her cringing lips. She clamped her mouth shut in a desperate attempt to save herself from this degradation. "No," she cried again, but as she opened her mouth to cry, Jake lashed his own tongue against her cuntal channel and, before she knew what was happening, had forced his pulsing member between her unwilling lips.
But, moments later, her anguish began to ease. Jake had forced himself into her in all brutality, but his skilled oral stimulation, as he crouched lewdly over her open loins, was designed to make her change her mind. The single-minded businessman worked hungrily on the squirming brunette's wet cuntal furrow, feeling her soft moistened pubic hair brush tantalizingly against his cheeks.
"Kiss my prick," he urged. "Make my pecker hard with your sweet tongue, Terry." And while he spoke, his tongue drove faster and faster, working its way up and down in her steaming crotch. Despite her reluctance to do as Jake bid, the excited woman was mesmerized by his hotly flicking tongue, and she knew she didn't want that to stop, knew she couldn't move away from it now. Incredibly obscene sensations shot throughout her body, causing her to groan in mounting desire.
Timidly, she thrust out her tongue to swipe at the tip of Jake's blunt cock-head, and the young woman tasted the strange pungent droplet of fluid which hung from its tip. She shivered in forbidden excitement, feeling a link of desire surge from that droplet in her mouth down to her own rapidly moistening pussy flesh. Jake gasped in ecstasy at the touch of her innocent tongue, and with a slow thrust of his powerful hips, plunged his eager penis deeper into her waiting mouth.
Terry felt a strange surge of power, at Jake's moan, felt the power she held over him as she held his trembling penis between her lips. "Yes, baby," he urged. "Suck me, baby. Oh, suck with your sweet tongue." His words aroused her more than anything else had done, and obediently she tightened her lips around the pulsing rod inside her mouth, feeling it quiver beneath her tentative tongue.
Jake slaved ever harder between Terry's widespread legs. A strange urgency began to build deep within her belly, the urgency of orgasm which she so seldom was able to reach when Bill made love to her. Her loins churned with the sensation . .. she was loving it, and unable to help herself, loving it and striving for release.
Experimentally, the aroused brunette let her tongue run down Jake's sensitive penis, and he sank his thickened cock all the way down into her throat. At first Terry was afraid that she would gag from the sheer size of it, but soon she adjusted to it, soon she stopped worrying about the discomforting aspects, and could only think of her own body, her own trembling loins.
Jake knew that Terry was too far gone to fight anything he might now do to her. He felt her hands desperately clawing at his buttocks, felt her loins squirming and lifting up to meet his thrusting tongue. His lips covered her seeping vagina, and he thrust his tongue deep down into it, causing a low guttural cry from the young woman. Her thighs closed convulsively around his slaving head. He felt her wet flesh against his extended tongue, and felt the walls of her vagina opening and closing in a sucking sort of motion, as though she were trying to imprison his tongue deeper and deeper within her fiery depths.
She moaned underneath him, now sucking desperately at the long rod that so filled her mouth, her passion-contorted body lost in the fiery intensity of the moment. Terry's whole body tensed as she strained upward toward that teasing probe sending such maddening desires down between her legs. God, it had never been like this with Bill, never this wonderful, lewd, sinful, debasing sensation of his tongue reaming out her depths!
"Oh, yes, yes," she moaned, opening her mouth around the cock-shaft. "Ooohhh! I'm going to cum. . . I'm going to cuuummm!"
Groaning madly in his equal desire, Jake wormed his finger into Terry's throbbing vagina, letting his tongue continue to whirl against her erect little bud of a clitoris. He knew he would cum in just instants, knew he would shoot down her hot little throat, and he wanted them to do it together!
His last effort sent the hotly aroused brunette into a spasm of pure lust. She felt her pussy-lips dilate and contract again and again, and her legs scissored madly. Tightening her lips about the blood-swollen cock in her mouth, Terry's body began to vibrate out of control. She jerked spasmodically as the long-desired orgasm invaded her entire body, filling it with a crescendo of bliss.
"Aaaaarrrggghhh," she wailed helplessly. "Ooooohhhhh!"
And, as she cried out, Jake felt his heated sperm shoot upward from his cum-swollen balls and he wildly shoved his lusting penis to the back of the moaning brunette's throat. Hot jets of streaming semen cascaded down into the cavern of Terry's mouth, and she eagerly swallowed, sucking hard to get every drop of pungent cum-fluid.
Finally, their waves of passion subside, and Jake pulled his deflated penis from between Terry's still-clinging lips. He collapsed beside her still-quivering body, and for a long time they lay together, their faces smiling happily against each other's fully-satiated loins.
CHAPTER SIX
Bill Dawson drove his car up to the front driveway of a large, Spanish-style home, which was set elegantly amid orange trees. Its sloping lawn, paving stone driveway, and obviously professional gardening immediately caused him to appraise its value, and to feel a sort of reverse snobbery against the ostentatious quality of its owners, Jake and Elaine Travis.
What especially caught the eye of the airplane parts worker was the huge silver and chrome Buick Electra sitting in the driveway. Hell, it was as big as a small airplane. He'd forgotten they even made cars this way anymore. After all, who in his right mind would drive something like that when it was hard enough for Bill to even find the gasoline to fill up his Chevrolet? With the two hour waits at gas stations now, he'd even been considering trading his car in on a Volkswagen . . . that is, if you could still find one for sale.
Oh well, it was quite a car anyway, Bill thought, and there was no use having sour grapes about it. He'd known the Travises had a good deal of money, but obviously there was a lot more here than he had ever realized. What was it that Jake Travis did anyway? Something about organizing other people's businesses, some sort of hustling rather than a decent, ordinary forty-hour a week job, he was sure of that anyway, and not for the first time in his life did the thirty-five year old man sigh at the knowledge that this was probably the only way to make any money these days. Real money, that is, and lots of it, enough to buy toys like that Electra.
And their house reeked of money as well, being in a good neighborhood, with so many trees. Probably even a pool in the backyard, from the looks of it.
In the late afternoon sun, Bill could see a soft light shining through one of the large windows, just to the side of the oddly incongruous Dutch doorway. He cursed to himself, feeling disappointed that he was actually going to have to face these people. He sure didn't look forward to it, having had to leave work early, and come around to this part of Sunnyvale, before even having a beer before dinner.
When his wife Terry had telephoned him this morning at work, it had sure seemed funny. She had sounded so distant, really not like herself at all, telling him Elaine Travis wanted to talk with him especially, this very evening. Why, Bill had had to rack his brains even to remember who this Elaine Travis was, and when he had remembered, he'd been none too pleased. She'd always seemed such a phony, stuck-up bitch of a woman, and he couldn't imagine what had turned up that was so damn urgent he had to lose a beer over it.
For that matter, Terry hadn't made much sense at all, neither on the telephone nor last night, when she'd come home so late from seeing Anna Holm. He'd worked on his airplane book, studying the special course he was taking, and then he'd watched the late news, and finally turned in. When Terry finally came home, he never woke up, and then this morning, when he had to get up to go to work, she slept right through that.
Well, probably it was just the time difference, probably they were both still adjusting slowly to being back in California. Sure, it seemed to be real unusual, and he felt a troubled sort of feeling which he couldn't quite define, but he pushed it from his mind. He'd promised his wife to stop by and see the Travises, and then, after he got home to Terry, he would find out just what seemed to be worrying her. There was no use in thinking about it now.
* * *
Elaine Travis watched from her living room window as her young caller alighted from his Chevrolet and pensively made his way across her lawn and up to her front porch. She noted with a small and amused smile that he paused, hesitantly, just outside her door, before lifting his hand and pushing the bell. After hearing the sound of it, she waited a few seconds before making her way to the foyer to open the door.
Isn't it marvelous, recollected the attractive blonde, how the most perfect ideas just drop like manna from heaven, to be there exactly when one needs them? Last night, when she'd walked in on Jake's episode with her little protegee, Terry Dawson, she had felt both angry and worried about the possible consequences of the evening. She hadn't planned for that to happen, but had hoped to loosen up the prudish young woman, hoped to get her drunk enough that she would join into the fun of swinging, but she'd hardly dreamed that it would be her own husband! Well, in whatever way, things had seemed to work out, but what poor Jake had had to go through with her had been really too ridiculous!
Elaine had never dreamed that one silly girl could have made such a hysterical outburst, could have made so damn many outbursts! First with the guys taking her clothes off, of course, and Elaine had had to admonish them to wait until a lady really wanted it to happen. But then with Jake as well, screaming and crying in between every act, and afterwards as bad as before. He'd had to play psychiatrist and family priest damn near half the night, before the nutty broad would finally allow herself to be driven home to that precious loving husband she kept on screaming about.
What a fool Jake was sometimes, thought Elaine. God only knew what might have happened . . . perhaps police, or mafia, or even Hells Angels descending on their party. After all, no one knew what this Bill Dawson's reaction would be to the news that his wife had been out sucking cock half the evening. In the morning, when Jake had told her the whole story, she'd had to think really fast, and Elaine complimented herself again on her idea. It had been a marvelous brainstorm to think of telephoning Terry; why, it had been simply inspirational!
Solicitous as a big sister, Elaine had just telephoned Terry, and as she'd expected, the younger woman had started to cry again right there on the telephone. But when Elaine offered to explain the whole night to her husband, Bill, magically the sobbing had ceased, and Elaine knew the situation was saved. So easy ... so absurdly easy, and here was Bill Dawson now, walking up to the door, looking innocent and a little irritated. Well, he wouldn't be irritated for long, Elaine was sure enough of that.
Cursing again under his breath, Bill wondered once more just what could possibly be of so great significance that it necessitated his driving all the way out to this side of town. And a little resentment against his wife, Terry, arose for an instant--wasn't she always getting him into absurd situations like this very one? He should have just told her to do her own business with the Travises, and gone home as usual to drink his beer and watch television.
"Well hello there, old friend, it's really been a long time, hasn't it?" Elaine sprang open the front door to greet Bill in her most effusive manner. He certainly hadn't expected such a welcoming party; to Bill Dawson's mind, they were just acquaintances with Jake and Elaine Travis, and he'd never felt the least desire to have any closer relationship than just being acquaintances. Why, when they'd first come to town, and Terry was so happy to have met Elaine, he'd put his foot down about it. They just weren't his class of people, and he for one was no social climber, up the fragile rungs of Sunnyvale society.
Elaine was all dressed up, in a low-cut black dress, as though she were all ready for a big evening in San Francisco, ready for dinner on Fisherman's Wharf, or maybe even for dancing. The younger man caught his breath for an instant, as he realized just how good-looking the statuesque blonde really was. She'd certainly been attractive enough before, but nothing like this. Her hair was pulled back in a stylish twist, held with a jeweled clip at the side of her head, and then cascading down her bare shoulders in blonde curls. And, his eyes descending lower, past the bare shoulders, he noticed with admiration the deeply revealing décolletage, and the ripe mounds of Elaine's cleavage.
"Yes, Elaine," replied the wide-eyed man, stammering just a tiny bit as he spoke. "Yes, it has been quite a few months." As she said nothing in response to his statement, he continued. "Terry told me that you wanted to talk with me about something... something important, I think she said." As he spoke, he wished he had at least inquired of his wife just what it was that this ravishing woman had wished to speak about, so that now he wouldn't sound like such an idiot in front of her.
"Well, yes," she replied, smiling warmly. "I wanted to see you about something special, that's all. Let's go inside."
Bill followed his hostess, watching the seductive sway of her provocative bottom as she moved. He tried hard to appear nonchalant, tried to feel like one of those guys who can handle any situation, any dame, but somehow this sort of thing never worked for him.
"Uh, where's Jake this evening?" he asked, knowing even as he spoke how silly he would sound to this worldly blonde.
"I'm a grown-up girl," Elaine smiled in her sweetest fashion. "And my husband even lets me stay in the house, all by myself!"
Goddamn! thought the younger man. Is this babe coming on like it sounds, or is it only my wild imagination?
But Bill continued to follow Elaine, through the elegant foyer and into a large, wood-paneled room. Bill looked around at the walls, which were hung with a collection of old firearms, old hunting prints in gold frames, and photographs of proud-looking English setters holding pheasants in their mouths. It looked almost corny, like a lodge back east or something, but it also looked authentic, and nervously Bill decided he'd not want to tangle with the owner of all those vicious-looking weapons and dogs. At one end of the room stood a massive billiard table, and at the other, a high oaken bar.
Above the bar were shelves stocked with full and partly full bottles of various liquors, just like in a cocktail lounge. The blonde woman immediately walked over there. "What can I get you to drink?" she asked, her voice purring.
What Bill Dawson really wanted was a beer, a nice cold can of Coors beer, but his sense of dignity kept him from simply stating his desires. "Well, how about a scotch," he suggested.
"With soda?" asked his hostess, "or on the rocks?" Elaine reached for the decanter of well-aged scotch, but then paused, her shapely arm extended upward to the shelf. Bill found he had to look away from her curvaceous body, from the suggestive arch of her body, the full thrust of her breasts which was all the more obvious as she stood on tiptoe, reaching upward. "I'm having a Pernod," Elaine suggested. "Maybe you'd like something like that." She brought down the exotic-looking Pernod bottle, and leaned on the counter to face her guest, resting her elbows against the polished wood in such a manner that her fully rounded bosom was almost entirely exposed to his embarrassed gaze.
"Well, anything you're having, I guess I'll try that Pernod." Bill had never drunk this, and was only vaguely aware that it was some sort of a foreign concoction, but he did not want to appear too unsophisticated.
Dexterously she poured out two glasses and handed one to the airplane-parts worker. "Cheers," Elaine murmured, raising her glass to her full wine-red lips. "Here's to us!"
"Uh, cheers," Bill responded, cautiously sipping at the licorice-tasting liquid. Here's to us! Shit, it was so damn obvious what this woman was all about! Even though she was one of the best-looking broads who had ever so openly come on to the young husband, he wanted no part of it, and told himself so. A piece of ass isn't worth jeopardizing what you and Terry have got! his mind told him firmly.
He decided to get down to business, and not let the fancy dame smile at him in that knowing way, as though he were just a kid in the sandbox or something. "What did you and Jake need to talk with me about?" he asked, a little nervously. He wanted some explanation, wanted to know just what was going on, what, that is, besides the increasingly obvious fact that he preferred to ignore.
"Well," smiled the buxom blonde. "I guess that can wait till Jake gets home . . . business, you know. But that won't be for absolutely hours and hours."
She lowered her elbows, practically shoving her lovely décolletage in the confused man's face.
For an instant, Bill felt tempted to take this woman up on her blatant invitation, felt tempted to just screw the hell out of her snobby nouveau-riche body, to make her pay for the sneering manner that showed in her very presence. Resolutely, he pushed this sadistic thought to the rear of his mind.
"So Jake won't be home for awhile?" he asked.
"Sure," purred the richly-endowed blonde. "But I'll try not to bore you too awfully much while we wait for him. I reckon well find something to amuse ourselves with..."
Bill straightened up from the bar, a boyish blush across his good-looking features. He took a deep swallow of his glass of Pernod. "Uh, I'm sure we could," he replied, "but I've got to hurry home. I'm sure Terry will have dinner ready any minute now, and I don't want to be late. Got a lot of reading to do this evening, as well." Damn this stupid woman anyway! What sort of friends did his wife have?
"Well, actually," responded the determined blonde, "Terry and I talked about just that. I told her we'd be taking a good long while, and she was real understanding about it. She was hoping you and I could get to be friends, just like she and I are . .. and she and Jake are." Elaine lifted her Pernod to her mouth and finished off the last of the strong liquid. "Let me get out of this dress, though." She arched her back, pushing her shoulders back and thrusting out her breasts in the act. "It's just awfully uncomfortable."
Without waiting for a reply from her bewildered male guest, Elaine Travis turned from the bar and led the way down a white corridor, past long glass windows which looked out onto the backyard, which Bill could still see clearly, despite the quickly darkening night. He noticed that indeed there was a swimming pool, a big rectangular one with a diving board, instead of the usual kidney shaped kind which dotted so many Sunnyvale yards, making the city look like a Chinese Checker board of blue marbles, when viewed from a low-flying airplane.
"It's in here, Bill," gestured Elaine, standing in the doorway of a sumptuous-looking dark-paneled room. It was small and cozy, but the glint of money overpowered the look of coziness, and Bill Dawson mentally appraised the Columbian tapestries which hung from the walls, the genuine Persian rug covering the parquet flooring, and the large copper kettles and vases, obvious antique pieces, casually arranged.
Elaine caught his eye surveying her furnishings, and the glint of a smile showed across her even white teeth. "Maybe you'll like to look at those old pots," she said, motioning. "Or...", and her voice deepened. "Or maybe you'd rather watch while I slip out of this tight dress."
Bill swallowed down the hot lump that instantly rose in his throat. Goddamn, but she was asking for it, teasing him like he was a queer who hadn't the balls to do it to her! Yet he could think of no suitably squelching reply, and once more she had shown him her power. How dare she! he swore under his breath. How dare that country-club bitch treat me like one of her caddies! Why he, Bill Travis, knew he was more of a man than that aging, cigar-smoking, nearly-bald husband of hers, and he had more than half a mind to just turn her over and tell her so! '
But, despite the younger man's angry rationalizations, he did not open his mouth to defend himself. Instead, he settled his muscular body down into a surprisingly comfortable leather sling-armed chair, which he recognized as being "Danish Modern", and stared through the doorway into the dressing-room bathroom combination. And he watched Elaine, watched her every movement which bespoke her unmistakable womanhood, and he wondered in spite of himself why he had never before been attracted to this luscious specimen of Sunnyvale female.
Yes, he finally admitted to himself, he wanted to watch this female animal, and words finally came to his bashful lips. "OK, I guess I'll just watch you," he said, trying to keep his voice light and joking, but as he spoke he could detect an undercurrent of desire. He felt as though a stranger had begun to take over his physical body, and passions for strange women, passions he had successfully repressed during all his years of marriage to his dear wife Terry, were raising their ugly heads. Never before had he said anything like that to another man's wife, to his own wife's friend. Bill wondered in a panicky way just what force it was that was entering into him, and he knew he'd have to fight against it.
Elaine paused, still standing in the dressing-room doorway, and she smiled at the obviously innocent and bashful man. "Good boy," she commented dryly. "You just watch all you want." Elaine felt a glow of satisfaction, the glow she always experienced upon realizing a man's lust for her, even an unexpressed and unadmitted lust. For the forty year old woman adored attention, adored having men watch her undress. She'd never had to earn her living as a stripper, but if worse came to worse, it'd just be child's play. Hell, she did it in front of Jake's clients just for kicks, for a perverse desire of watching total strangers lust after her human flesh.
Bill looked sulkily at his nearly-empty Pernod glass, thinking about what a fool he was being. Rationally, he knew that Elaine was just another dumb broad, a bunny without brains, who probably couldn't even cook like his own wife could. So why was he getting all stammery like some punk schoolboy? He should just let her know what he thought of her time-wasting techniques and silly come-on games. And he should go home and have a good dinner, and not listen to this bullshit about how Jake had to talk about something really drastic. For all Bill knew, Jake was as likely as not away for the past two weeks, and this was just his horny wife's reaction to his absence.
Bill glanced up from his reverie just in time to see Jake's lusciously curved wife standing only yards away from where he was seated, and as he watched, the overly tight black dress fell away to lie in a heap on the Persian carpet beneath her feet. Elaine stood casually in front of him, letting the effect of her lushly ripened body sink into the consciousness of the unwilling man in front of her, behaving almost as though she were all alone in the room. Yet her body's studied carelessness was only too aware of its admiring audience, all too eagerly listening for that intake of breath that meant she was desired.
Bill felt a slight jerk underneath his Levi's as her body came into full view, and another jerk, an imperceptible hardening, as she turned to pick up her dress from the carpet. The full, voluptuous mounds of her ass-cheeks paraded in full view before him, showing off a narrow nylon strip of panties between her shapely thighs. As she bent over, the panties slid in a teasing manner into the crevice of her buttocks, and when she righted herself again, they remained caught in the hollow between her rounded mounds. Then Elaine walked across the room, taking her dress to a hanger in the closet, and her ripe buttocks' cheeks jiggled slightly as her body moved in its self-conscious manner.
And now, try as Bill might have tried before, he could not deny to himself this woman's obvious desire for him. He could no longer attribute her shockingly provocative behavior to the fact that maybe her husband was away, or that maybe he never really admired her, that maybe she never got a chance to flirt any longer. No, this was the artful behavior of a female in the full intensity of her heat. In her sophisticated way, Elaine was howling like a cat in the back alley, and Bill found himself responding like a tomcat in a neighboring alley. Damn the consequences, but it wasn't his fault by now. Hell, it was Terry's fault, making him go here alone, if it was anyone's fault at all. She should know what her friends were all about.
A final sip on Bill Dawson's glass of Pernod drowned every bit of caution, drowned every little moral voice within his body. Hell, everyone knew that a man wasn't responsible for his actions if a woman came on like this? It was different for women of course, but he was a simple male animal, and he was responding to the age-old mating call. And he wasn't going to turn it down, not this time!
Bill watched in intent curiosity as Elaine returned from her closet, dressed now only in brassiere, garter belt, and those nylon panties which still alluringly clung to the crack between her shapely buttocks' cheeks. Her sheer stockings shimmered in the dull light coming from the Tiffany lamp on the work desk.
She grinned at him, still mocking, teasing, as though she were far, far older and wiser. "Could you bring me another drink?" she asked. "And one for yourself, of course, lover."
Bill's heart quickened a pace as he heard her words. "Sure, just a sec," he responded, and set off down the corridor towards the bar. In the dark, he managed to refill the two glasses, and lost no time in returning to the voluptuous woman who stood, still smiling secretively, in her doorway. She had now shed her undergarments, and although Bill felt a tiny twinge of disappointment at having missed the no doubt erotic disrobing, he was more than pleased to see her curving body clad solely in a translucent nylon robe. It was also cut very low at the top, and she showed a good deal of cleavage between her thrusting breasts.
'Thanks, dear boy," she purred as Bill handed her one of the full glasses of Pernod. He winced at her nickname, and felt a sort of sadistic anger, a desire to hurt this mocking female, to show her which sex really controlled the species. But at the same time he felt the glow of conquest, the thrill of chasing a female, of taking her for the very first time when everything was new and unbelievably erotic. This feeling had slumbered in dormancy during all his years with his wife Terry, and only now was it awakening . . . how could he have so long forgotten the power of a stranger's body?
Elaine pointedly lowered her gaze to rest on the growing bulge at the crotch of her guest's Levi's. Then she raised her eyes to his, smiling an enigmatic smile. "So . .. ," was her only comment.
Bill steadily met the shapely blonde's pointed gaze, knowing he could outstare her if it had to come to that, knowing he could outdo her in every human way, now that he had relinquished his inner battle and decided to play the game. He flexed the muscles which controlled his penis, and noted in a pleased manner that his hostess had caught the minute movement underneath the tight fabric of his jeans. She was really aware of a man's body, of that he was sure, and the knowledge struck the airplane-parts worker as being maddeningly exciting.
Eagerly, the blond man followed Elaine through the doorway of her dressing room, and through the tiled dressing-room bathroom combination into a bedroom, which he had not before noticed. Elaine moved in front of him in her smoothly seductive manner, her hips rolling like well-oiled machinery. But as they reached the bed, and Bill was trembling with a raging lust, she stopped, pouting. In a surprisingly commonplace, matter-of-fact voice, the gorgeous seductress stopped her aroused suitor. "Oh Bill," she said, "I forgot about the lights. Could you shut them off, please? Jake gets so upset now, with the energy crisis and all, if I leave them on."
Well, isn't she just the obedient little wife! thought Bill with irony. Obedient, even while she's getting another guy into the sack! But he dutifully followed her request, returning to the study to switch off the colored glass Tiffany lamp, and also the more modern fluorescent and infra-red lighting which dimly illuminated the dressing room and bath.
When Bill returned to the side of Elaine's king-size bed, she had lit an old-fashioned kerosene lamp, and its gentle glow showed up her body in the most flattering possible light.
He glanced down at her, feeling his still-erect penis quicken in further lustful expectation. The tiny buttons on her gown were undone practically to the waist, and it hung away from her body to such an extent that he could see down the translucent robe to the thin hair-lined lips of her vagina. Her legs were parted, and Bill felt spasms of arousal course through his body, at the sight of the smooth surfaces of Elaine's full inner thighs. A pleased smile came to his features as she opened them further to his curious glance, and he knew that she also was desirous, that her exposure was clearly saying only one thing.
Bill's eyes finally rose from Elaine's exquisite cleft between her thighs, rose up her belly and settled on the full large mounds of her breasts. Her ripe nipples stared up at him, thrust upwards as though they had a life of their own, and already erected in anticipation.
"God," murmured the young husband, his admiring eyes firmly affixed to the luscious body of his hostess. "God, you're beautiful," He wondered why her voluptuousness had never before struck him as being particularly attractive, much less at all erotic. Now that he was this close to her obviously desirable body, it was all he could do to restrain himself from ripping off that translucent robe, from tearing his own clothes away and diving into that hot pool of nakedness. He wanted his lips against her cunt, the way he'd never, never been able to do with Terry; he wanted her breasts squeezed against him . . . But he restrained his impulse to grab her, wanting to draw it out as long as possible, wanting to savor every inch of her delicious flesh, even if it took all night long.
And then Elaine's mocking words hit him, caught him in the middle of his exciting reverie. "It's not so often that one meets a first-timer," she said. "I mean a first time sleeping around on your wife. It is, isn't it?"
For an instant, a stab of pain struck into Bill's consciousness, for of course her words were correct. Never before had he come so close to betraying Terry's trust in him, and his feelings of guilt were still very strong, although nothing could make his body stop now. Why did she have to ask . . . why, when it was so perfect, when it was so meant to be? His thoughts turned to Terry, but he could not dwell on her, not now ...
Finally taking the initiative, Bill did not answer Elaine's seemingly tactless inquiry, but instead brought his lips firmly down against hers. In willing response, she reached up to him, curling her arms around his body and pulling him down against her nearly naked flesh. Easily and naturally, one of his legs dropped down between her open thighs. God, it felt fine! thought the younger man, felt fine and smooth, with her supple body tightly against his muscular one.
Harshly, Bill ground his hips into Elaine's softness, and she moved her thigh up against his crotch, causing his cock to grow to a painful hardness. It throbbed against his tight Levi's and he could feel the wetness of semen seeping from the glans as it grew more rigid against her. The thought oddly aroused the excited man, and he hoped she could feel the heated moisture on her persistent thigh as she continues to massage against him. God, was she good! Her soft thigh pushed up into his penis and testicles, making his cock jerk as though he was about to explode, making his balls ache with pressure of cum surging up.
Bill thrust his tongue deep into the mouth of his seductress, and she sucked gently on it and nibbled with her sharp little teeth. Chilling sensations ran down Bill's spine, all the way from his neck to his tensed buttocks. Pulling his lips away, for an instant he thought of poor Terry, but he had to put that thought for from his consciousness. It was all right anyway, for she'd never know, and if she ever heard, she was far too innocent to believe such a story of lust and adultery!
But Elaine spoke his thoughts aloud. "Don't worry about Terry," her voice whispered seductively. "I'll just teach you a few things that you can use to make her real happy. And she'll never guess where you picked them up, either! Don't worry about anything at all," she breathed into his tingling earlobe. "Just take off all your clothes."
Bill Dawson was hardly even aware of her words. He could concentrate only on her hungry desire for him, could only feel her quivering in excitement beneath him. Steadily, the seductress moved her thighs against his loins.
"Do you want me?" she panted. "Do you want to fuck me?" Her teeth were clenched shut and there was a wild look to her eyes.
"Oh, so much, baby, so much," he replied, excited still further by the lewd sound of her words.
"Then let me know," breathed Elaine's hoarse voice. "Tell me!"
"Baby," he answered, wildly excited, "I want to fuck you!"
"Tell me more," breathed the hotly aroused woman who continued to writhe her subtle body under his. "How are you going to fuck me?"
"Oh, I'm going to fuck you till you scream," he said, pleased at this new game they were playing. "Fuck you till you beg me to stop!"
"Just see if you can, darling! That's what I want you to make me do!" She rubbed against his bursting crotch area in salacious circles. "You better get those clothes off and stick it in me, before I start screaming right now!"
Bill stood up from his hostess and began to rip the clothes from his body, feeling only a small pang of guilt and self-consciousness as he stood over her. His cock stood up in rigidly naked erection, and the young husband thought again of how long it had been since he had felt the way he did now, so desirous, so expectant of the unknown that was to come.
Elaine lifted her body and slid out of her translucent robe in an expert motion. She looked up at him, enjoying his eager eyes on her nakedness, savoring the moment of expectancy, the newness of the first time. Then her eyes dropped to his rigid penis which throbbed just before her face. "I want it, darling. I want your big beautiful cock. I want it deep up in my pussy, twisting and turning in me! I want it so bad!" Her voice was a hoarse groan, and although Bill could still hear the actress in it, could still hear the way she chose her words carefully, her desire was more than real!
He lay down next to her, his hands cupping the lushly-shaped curves of her buttocks as she stretched out beside his body. She felt so warm and soft against him, and she raised her lips up to his and locked her mouth tightly against them. As she did so, her hand reached downwards, between their two bodies, for the hard rod of his penis. Bill moaned, as she closed her cool fingers around his throbbing cock-shaft. The lusty perfume of her body was maddening to the young husband, as she ground her pelvis tightly against his loins. Then suddenly she twisted her body and pulled him over on top of her, in a smooth movement. She opened her thighs wide and his legs slipped easily between them.
"Oh, take me now," she cried out, in burning desire. "Ram your hot cock up my cunt before I die! I need it... I need it!"
* * *
Jake Travis carefully adjusted the control on the miniature German camera which was pointed directly over the bed upon which his wife writhed. He was irritated at her having lighted only the kerosene lamp, but its light was at least better then nothing. She always had to be so damn romantic about it! he thought angrily to himself. Always getting so carried away by whomever she happened to desire that moment that she forgot about his hobby of making films and still photographs.
This time he was just a little worried about how the quality would be of his finished product, and his hand nervously adjusted and re-adjusted the complicated apparatus. It was not that he felt he would ever need these pictures for pressuring purposes ... but it just never hurt to keep good records, and besides, Jake enjoyed the voyeuristic aspects of sex often more than he did the real thing. After twenty years with someone, if you want your marriage to last, you just have to spice it up and keep it spicy. That was his attitude, and he was lucky enough to have found a wife to share it. At least they wouldn't end up in divorce courts like so many Bay Area couples, or if they ever did, it sure wouldn't be about adultery.
Jake felt his own cock growing steadily harder as he watched attentively while Elaine writhed about on the bed, grinding her naked form against their visitor's thrusting penis. His wife sure liked a good screw, and she sure was a good one herself, to boot. For Jake knew full well that her performance in front of his camera was no act.
He thought then of shy Terry Dawson,-her beautifully full but yet still girlish figure, with its waspish waist and long bronzed legs. It sure had been worth it last night at the City Hall, worth even the long hours of comforting and reassuring her, just for the taste of her lush young flesh. And he knew, despite her protests to the contrary, that Terry had loved his oral administrations, just as he had loved the sweet taste of her brunette-haired pussy.
But he knew there would be more times, many more opportunities to initiate sweet Terry into the delicious practices, of which he and Elaine were so skilled. There was still time for some of his eager meat to find its way into her tight little cunt as well as her mouth!
* * *
Bill began to move against Elaine, but she was too quick for the young husband. Her hands reached down between their two bodies to circle around his throbbing penis and guide it between the moistened lips of her hotly desirous pussy. Bill groaned above her as he felt her move his male flesh up and down between her full thighs, using its blood-filled head to part her soft pubic curls. He felt those wispy hairs graze teasingly against it, felt himself grow to even greater hardness, until he was aching from the more-than-bearable pressure. He knew he could not restrain himself for another second, and he thrust his hips forward in a sudden motion that drove his aching penis up into the gaping cavern of her moistened pussy with flesh-ripping fury.
"Ahhhhh," she cried beneath him as he felt the warm, rubbery sheath slip wetly over his sensitive cock-head. He entered her with a sadistic kind of fury that caused him to not spare any of his strength, that caused him to want to hurt this lustful female. Instinctively, Bill knew that this was what his exciting partner desired. He was quickly discovering that Elaine was a new kind of woman, a real woman. Christ, if Terry could see him now she just wouldn't believe it, but he didn't care at all!
His long hard cock plunged up her cunt to the warm depths of her belly. She felt so warm and tight around him, causing the length of his rigid penis to ache, until the moisture of the passage surrounded him and lubricated his way.
Suddenly he reached the end, and felt his balls slapping hard against her upthrust ass-cheeks. Never before had Bill experienced such a feeling of having a woman totally impaled upon the end of his deeply stabbing shaft!
Elaine Travis cried out involuntarily beneath Bill's impaling penis, twisting momentarily to escape the sudden shooting of pain. But he thrust harder into her loins, screwing his pelvis as far as it could possibly go, and she knew she was beyond escape. She was totally skewered by this strong younger man, and she knew it was her just desserts for having gleefully embarrassed his pride, having practically shamed him into bed.
Bill lay atop Elaine for a moment, to allow the pain of his sudden entry to somewhat subside. He felt a sense of power, knowing that in the past few instants, he had gained the upper hand with this stubborn female. She was subjugated to him now, and he reveled in his knowledge. Then Bill flexed the head of his penis again, bringing another moan from between Elaine's clenched teeth. For an instant, Bill fantasized about how he looked over- this luscious woman, fantasized about how it would look to Terry ... or to Jake! Why, what would that rich bastard think to see his wife so naked, so see her wrapped around another man's hips, with another man's prick stuck right up into her belly!
Well, my God in heaven! swore Jake under his breath. That young fella is sure a lot better than either of us thought he'd be. The older man was far from bored by the performance which he watched from behind his camera lens, buried cleverly within the wall between the bedroom and the library. All was functioning properly, he was pleased to note, he decided, just to make things a bit more exciting, to hook up one of the tape recorders, and so have a tape of any interesting noises either of them might make.
Jake hurried away to fetch the tape recorder, not wanting to miss any of the action. Man, was he glad they'd thought of doing these home movies! What a brainstorm! He only regretted that there was no movie of his last evening with little Terry, but it just couldn't be helped. Well, still photographs were at least better than nothing, and perhaps next time they could make a proper film. And he and Elaine could watch it before bed; they had found that one of the best mutual turn-ons was watching each other sucking and screwing with other people. It sure kept their marriage exciting.
* * *
Bill ground his loins down onto the squirming flesh of the wildly aroused female beneath him. She arched her loins up at him, raising them both off the bed by several inches. Moaning unintelligibly beneath his stabbing penis, she opened and closed her legs around his hips, working her body up and down in the ageless rhythm of intercourse. Elaine's mouth hung wide open, and her head flailed from side to side in passionate abandonment.
"Oh, it's so good," she cried out. "More . . . more! Hurt me! Shove your finger up my asshole and hurt me ... "
Bill Dawson had never heard such an obscene request, had never heard a beautiful woman using such foul language, had never realized he would find it so erotic when she did so. He reached under her ass-cheeks as he pushed his cock in rhythmical movements into the moistness of her cunt. His hand pulled apart the fleshy cheeks of her buttocks, and his middle finger probed searchingly for her anus.
Then Bill's finger made sudden startling contact with Elaine's sensitive nether ring. He felt a small rivulet of warm moisture running down the furrow, near where his fervent cock was pounding into her. The moisture lubricated that tightly puckered little orifice, and he experimentally poked at it with the tip of his extended middle finger. Pushing hard, he felt it give just a little, and then suddenly give way completely. His outstretched finger effortlessly slipped into the rubbery ring of her anus, up to the first knuckle joint. Elaine jumped forward as though she had received an electric shock, and cried out at the searing pain.
"Aaaaaaarrrrrggggghhhh! You're hurting me!"
But her loud cry only excited her lover, and again he thrust his outthrust digit up into her warm depths, all the way up to the second knuckle.
"Aaaagghh!" she screamed out again. "Oh, yes, baby! Hurt me! Hurt me more!" She cried again and again in her masochistic ecstasy.
Despite the pain, or perhaps because of the pain, Bill could feel the excited blonde woman screw her buttocks back against his finger, until it was sunk completely up into her nether depths. He jiggled it inside of her, rotating it around in the rubbery moistness of her rectum. He could even feel his own cock, through the thin membrane which separated her two passages. It was as though he were fucking her twice at the same time, and the thought exhilarated the younger man. While she groaned under his touch, he began skewering his finger to the same rhythm as his cock, sliding both in and out of her passion-tormented body.
Elaine trembled in excited response to Bill's obscene finger, jerking back only once, when his nail scraped against the tender flesh of her anus. She was totally immersed in his rhythm, and she opened her legs still wider apart to afford her lover greater access to her doubly impaled loins.
Bill could feel his penis growing and growing inside her moist cunt; it felt like it was expanding so much that any second now he would explode from the intense and exquisite pain. His heavily-laden balls slapped against her upturned ass-cheeks, and he hoped it would not be much longer until the wildly aroused woman reached her own climax. He knew he could hold back until it happened, and felt sure of his own abilities of control. Elaine seemed to be nearly berserk with passion, writhing madly against the shaft of his impaling cock. He began ramming up into her with long drawn-out strokes, still with the same rhythm as the finger plunging in and out of her tight wet anus.
Elaine gripped Bill so tightly between her thighs that he felt as though he was in a vise of warm flesh. Never missing a beat, she opened and closed them around his back as he stabbed his finger and penis into her pussy and anus. Wordless gurgles emerged from her larynx in a way that told Bill they were beyond her conscious control. The realization that she was so near orgasm excited Bill to even deeper thrusts up into her hungry cunt, exerting all his strength. Never in his most bizarre fantasies had the younger man imagined sex like this, and he wanted to make it as good as possible for her, so that he could have more, and more, and more. The uninhibited desire, the well-practiced movements, the sheer lust of the older woman were driving him wild! Nothing he had ever experienced before could compare with this writhing blonde moaning out her passion underneath his pummeling loins.
"Fuck me," she cried. "Fuck me harder! Oh sweet lover, fuck me . . . fuck me!" A stream of obscenities poured from between her lush lips, and she drove her lover on, pounding her heels into his kidneys as she cried out. Her legs were pulled so far back that her whole crotch was upraised, and she strove constantly to push herself even more tightly against the thrusting penis which she craved so greatly. Elaine's blue eyes rolled in her head, her lovely face contorted out of recognition, with beads of straining sweat on her forehead.
"Oh," she gasped. "Oh! Sweet Jesus, I'm cumming!" She yelled the words loudly, wanting her husband behind the camera to hear, wanting everyone to know what peaks of ecstasy she was reaching with this young airplane parts worker. Oh, the feelings he was arousing in her! Oh, how he was lusting after her! She mumbled on, coughing and crying out her climaxing tide of passion. Her legs reached up so far that her ankles locked around the shoulders of the handsome young stud who continued to thrust his dexterous rod of flesh deeply up into her convulsing pussy. Striving for the maximum sensation, Elaine squirmed beneath his hard cock in a savage frenzy of pure lust, gripping her lover with every ounce of strength within her power.
* * *
Well, look at that! Jake grinned at himself in voyeuristic appreciation as he watched his wife being skewering by this near-stranger and listened to her outpouring of lustful cries and curses. Man, look at her go!
* * *
And then a low wail began, coming from the woman who wildly thrashed underneath Bill Dawson's pumping body. The wail grew louder as the two panting lovers slapped together in brutal abandonment. Jake's wife contorted and her nostrils flared as she skewered her loins against Bill's aching hardness, locking her thighs around his back, while she spasmodically jerked against his stomach.
Elaine held in her breath, forgetting even to breathe in her excitement, and then expelled it sharply. Her body collapsed in a limp heap onto the bed, and she lay still, except for the uncontrollable quivering of her cunt, which was still clasped fervently around Bill's throbbing penis. He pushed himself deeply up into her and then lay still above the exhausted woman, allowing her a few moments of rest.
With great efforts of self-control, Bill kept himself from screwing into her. He had never felt or seen anything like this in his whole life. He throbbed his cock-muscles, flexing himself deep inside her belly, but Elaine still was breathing raggedly underneath him, her eyes closed in spent exhaustion.
Damn, he thought. His testicles bulged against her tired pussy, and his cock ached with urgent insistency. Suddenly he felt very masculine and virile, felt proud at having outlasted this seductress.
"Come on, baby," he growled finally, pulling at her passion-wracked buttocks.
"I've got some more here for you, whenever you're ready."
Suddenly his partner revived, and smiled dizzily up at her eager lover. "You just roll over, big man," she said. "I've got something else in mind for you."
But Bill Dawson was in no mood to play games, even potentially very erotic games. A moment ago, he would have placidly followed Elaine's suggestion, but now he was fired with his own performance, a performance which had managed to exhaust his trembling hostess. "Sorry, baby," he answered, and he shoved himself back up into her depths.
In an instant, the exhausted blonde was revitalized. The feeling of a throbbing cock in her cunt was enough to wake her from her totally satiated state, and she again strove against Bill.
He groaned over and over, his lips working crazily and incoherent mutterings spitting from between his clenched teeth. Now that Elaine had reached her own fulfillment, she was only seeking to make it good as possible for her partner. She twisted from side to side, causing unknown sensations in his throbbing rod of flesh.
Then suddenly he gasped sharply. He felt the hot sperm begin its final dash from within his bulging testicles, and begin spewing out in pulsing streams, into her sucking cunt.
Bill's hands tangled cruelly in her hair, holding onto Elaine's head as he pounded his body into her loins. Voraciously she responded, thrusting her pelvis back and forth to draw every aching drop from his squirting penis. Finally, he moaned his last, grunting deeply in his complete fulfillment. Slowly his cock deflated in the depths of her heated pussy, and his over-tensed body began to relax, although still the blonde woman continued to twist gently against him, as though she could never get enough of the sticky sperm.
Both partners were now totally sated and covered with beads of perspiration. They lay together, aching from the intensity of their physical union. Elaine nibbled gently at Bill's shoulder as he lay, collapsed, eyes closed, on her bed.
"Was it okay?" she asked finally, sounding like a combination of a knowing siren and a shy schoolgirl.
"Oh," he managed to gasp. "Oh, Elaine, it was so fantastic! How can you do those things to me?"
She laughed happily. "I guess practicing has really paid off," she replied proudly.
Something about her reply struck him as odd, even tawdry, but then who was he to complain after this luscious woman had just taken him on such a wild ride? But he just had to ask her one thing. "Do you do this a lot, Elaine?" he finally inquired.
"Do what?" she asked innocently. "Fuck, you mean?"
"Yeah," he replied. "Yeah, fuck." He tasted the word in his mouth. He'd never really used it in this way, but only in locker-room conversation, or sometimes as an expletive at work. To simply say it seemed odd at first, but refreshingly honest. "Go out on your old man, I mean," he added.
"Oh, sure," she replied languidly. "Pretty often. I guess every time someone comes along who really turns me on. But Jake doesn't care. He really digs it, you know, and it helps keep our marriage happy. You know what I mean?"
This was an idea that young Bill Dawson had never even considered. Back on the East Coast, he'd always heard that things were wild in California, but during the past ten years in Sunnyvale, no one had done anything to uphold that theory. In fact, he had come to dismiss this wild image of California as one of those things everyone talked about but no one did anything about. Now he realized that here was someone who was really living that way, and this realization came as a shock to the artless man.
"I guess so," he finally answered. "I mean, I understand what you're saying, but I could never be that way with my wife. If she ever looked at another guy, I guess I'd kill her." This sounded a little strong to Bill, so he modified it by adding quickly, "but of course she wouldn't want to!"
A little smile played around the corners of Elaine's ripe lips. "Double standard, huh?" she asked. "You can go out on her, but she's got to stay at home and be the good little wife?" There was irony in her voice.
Bill hastened to defend himself. "Well, I think it's a lot different for a woman," he said. "For a man, it's nothing to screw somebody, but women don't do it unless they mean something by it. At least most women, women like Terry."
Suddenly, Bill wanted to leave. Talking about Terry was beginning to make him feel sick and guilty. She was probably standing over the stove right now, worried sick about him having been gone so long, and trying to keep his dinner from over-cooking. He wanted to go home, to leave this house of loose moral standards, and go home to his wife.
But Elaine was not ready to end this discussion. She was warming up to a good quarrel. She sat up in bed, her big bosom brushing against his body. "I think that's a load of crap," she replied crudely. "No woman ever told you that. It's just what a bunch of chauvinists think. It's just the way they rationalize their lies and deceits. Maybe you'd better ask that wife of yours what she really thinks about sex!"
The thought seemed ludicrous to Bill. "Not Terry," he insisted loyally. "Terry's good in bed and all that, but she comes from a pretty sheltered background. She'd never go for any of those wife-swapping ideas, or anything else like that. She's a real old-fashioned woman," he said proudly.
The sarcastic irony that had been playing over Elaine's features turned to downright humor. She stifled a giggle, staring at his puzzled face. And then she laughed, her breasts shaking in her amusement.
"Well, you men think you're so smart, don't you," she managed between breaths. "You cuckolded idiots! If you knew. . . oh, if you only knew!" She was choking in her own mirth, laughing in cruel triumph over the dumbfounded young man.
"What d'you mean?" mumbled Bill. "I don't know what you're talking about." But even as he spoke, the horror of her words struck against him in a reality he would rather not have to look in the face. Could this woman be speaking the truth? Is this why Terry had sent him here? What sort of a terrible set-up was this? Oh God, God! he thought desperately, as the pieces started to fall into order.
"Your little wife, sweetie," came the harsh voice of his seductress, grating into his burning ears, "is just as wild about a little extra sex as you are. Only I'm afraid she was just a little over-eager the very first time. She bit off a bit more than she could really ... ha, ha . . . chew. You get my point?"
But Bill was incredulous; he could not accept what this laughing blonde was really saying. "What are you saying?" he cried. "What are you trying to tell me? Don't mince your words with me, Elaine Travis. I've got to know!" And then, even more angrily, he asked, "And what's the real reason behind this little set-up? Why am I here like this? You planned this, didn't you? Planned for me to fall right into your arms like the horny sucker that I guess I am!"
And the realization hit Bill's ego like a ton of bricks, totally destroying the male pride which had been so inflated by his performance of just minutes before. So she hadn't wanted him after all. . . so it was all part of her goddamn act! Or was it? He couldn't decide.
"Good thinking, darling," purred the blonde temptress. "Exactly what my plans were. You're not nearly as stupid as I thought you were. And suppose I told you that your domestic little priss of a wife balled nearly half of the Katayama Lighter representatives over at the Old City Hall last night? That she was so drunk my old man had to pull her off them, but then she grabbed his pecker in her mouth and wouldn't stop till he drove her home? What would you say if I told you that?"
"No!" Bill's face was white with shock and his voice barely audible with incredulity. "You're a lying bitch! This is all some crazy friggin' story! It's a trick, and I don't believe the tricks of whores like you; I don't believe one goddamn word of what you're saying!"
But when the door across the room suddenly flew open, seemingly of its own accord, Bill Dawson felt his still-naked body begin to shake in confusion. He saw an illuminated room, filled with various video-tape and stereo apparatus. Someone's workroom? . . . and then he noticed a tape recorder sitting on the shelf, with its two reels still spinning mutely. And Jake Travis, his body looking as ragged as if he himself had just enjoyed a ferocious orgasm, stepped into the bedroom. Ignoring Bill's naked body on the bed, he stepped over to his wife in a casual manner, and handed her some still photographs. "I think these are the pictures you wanted, dear," he said.
When Bill saw Jake walking toward the bed, he instinctively grabbed for the sheet to cover his nakedness. He noticed that Elaine, however, made no effort to hide her voluptuous breasts or any other part of her body. She was not the least bit disconcerted by her husband's startling entrance. Again, he cried out mentally, It's a trap! It was all a goddamn set-up, into which he had fallen like an unsuspecting ton of bricks.
"Here, lover boy, take a look at these." Jake's outstretched hand held the snapshots out to Bill, and Bill automatically accepted them. He glanced down at them, feeling so completely confused and frightened and dazed that he did not really comprehend the situation. His eyes focused on the amateurish photographs--sloppily taken Polaroids.
"We must apologize for the quality," came Elaine's smoothly casual voice. "No one seemed to have a proper camera last night, so I just popped into Jake's study with his old Polaroid."
"Well," replied her husband. "The ones from your little party tonight will be a whole lot better. Real professional quality, you know. Elaine never was much good with a camera . . . but as you can see, her other virtues more than make up for this lacking."
He sounded so nonchalant that he could well have been talking about his wife's tennis or sailing abilities!
"We try to record everything," said Elaine. "We're real old-time home-movie nuts. There are countless reels of films and tapes in the trunks, as well as the ones in the study. You never know when your guests will get tired of television, so we like to keep films around that we're sure they'll enjoy. Maybe sometime you and Terry can come over, and we'll have a little private showing of the fun we've just had." Elaine spoke with a sharp trace of malicious sarcasm, and her husband chuckled. Bill felt his hair on the back of his neck prickle, and he knew it was standing on end.
He studied the badly-exposed pictures with shaking hands. The first one showed a naked girl standing up, with two men grabbing at her body. But that couldn't be Terry--he felt sure of that. The overexposure must be another of their greasy tricks, he thought vindictively.
Confidently he turned to the second of the snapshots. This one showed a thickly bulging penis shoved into a woman's willing mouth, and he looked at her contorted face again and again. Could that be Terry? The features were all distorted, but it was certainly a clever resemblance to his wife's profile. He felt unsure, and turned over all the others, slowly and methodically looking for likenesses. More positions, and it was obvious to Bill that they showed Jake sucking a woman's cunt, but not until the final picture did he see a clear and un-smudged photograph of his own wife. His own wife! There was no mistaking her; he would have recognized that anywhere. And she was lewdly lying back on a leather-looking couch, her breasts standing up against her lovely tanned body, while Jake Travis had his head stuck down between her loins.
"If you'd like any copies, I'm sure we could have some ordered specially for you," came Jake's taunting voice.
"Now Bill, dearie," said Elaine, sarcastically, "You mustn't be too angry when you get home to the little woman. It just really wasn't her fault. Shut up in that dinky house all day with the dishes and the laundry and no one to talk to .. . why, it's a wonder she didn't go berserk years ago and rape the milkman. Or invite the dog next door in for a quickie! I just saw her predicament and thought I'd help her find a way out. Also, of course, she needed some money--seems you just don't put out like Daddy used to--and sex is the age-old way for a girl to make a few extra dollars!"
Bill looked unbelievingly into Elaine's coldly calculating eyes. "So you two pieces of shit are responsible for this? So you forced Terry into some filthy orgy?" His words were calm, but he could feel his belly knotted with more intense anger than he had ever known.
"Now, slow down, fella," grinned Jake. "I'll have you know I saved that broad from getting yourself into a real orgy! And then I just gave her a little loving comfort, like she obviously wasn't getting enough of at home. Or at least, not the right kind of it! Maybe next time, we can ..."
But Jake's speculation was abruptly cut off by the crashing of knuckles into his jaw. Every ounce of strength in the airplane parts worker's fist slammed into the older man, and Jake crumpled, caught off guard. He fell in a heap beside the bed, a little trickle of blood running down his chin from the corner of his mouth. He sputtered and spat out another mouthful of the sticky red liquid, and then walked into the bathroom. Loudly, he spat blood out into the sink.
He looked directly at Bill as he walked back into the bedroom, ignoring the defensive posture of the younger man, and speaking slowly.
"All right, you little shit. Just get some clothes on and get the fuck out of here. Go see your cunt wife and get her story. But get out right now."
Jake spoke threateningly, and Bill considered giving him another punch. But the fight was gone out of him . . . there was no reason to hit this older, obviously weaker man. And besides, it wasn't Jake's fault--it was Terry's. Terry was the one who had caused all of this by cheating on him. And Terry was the one who was going to pay for it!
CHAPTER SEVEN
Terry Dawson stood over her copper-tone kitchen stove, wishing her husband Bill would come home soon. Had she done the right thing in accepting Elaine's offer to do all the explanations? Or should she have told him herself? Would that have been better, more considerate, more honest? Somehow, when Elaine had telephoned that morning, it had seemed like a huge neon sign, "Way Out" had flickered through the telephone receiver. For Terry knew how good Elaine was at explanations, at getting someone to see things in a different light.
Her speculations were getting her nowhere, she realized, and she set out again to cope with the more immediate problem at hand, the fact that the chicken roasting in the oven was about to be forever ruined. There really did not seem to be any possible way to save it, unless Bill came home within the next half-hour or so. Of course if it had only been an ordinary roast chicken, she could merely have turned off the stove, and left it at that, accepting the fact that it would not be exactly at the peak of delicate readiness when Bill made his return, but she had tried a new recipe and now felt so nervous about the poor bird. All those lovely vegetables which now simmered in a delectable sauce in the roasting pan would be reduced to a cold and soggy mass if Terry now turned off the heat control; and if she did not turn it off, they would be burnt beyond recognition and the whole thing would be totally inedible.
Still debating this major decision rather than turning her worried thoughts to her husband's coming reaction, Terry mused thoughtfully over her cookbook collection, seeing if one of the many gourmet authors had some sort of ready solution to her particular dilemma. She turned page after page, reading every word that each cook had to say about catching, cleaning, plucking, frying, or roasting a chicken. However, no one seemed to have any solution for what to do when one's husband doesn't come home in time to actually eat the bird, and Terry was considering telephoning her mother in Newport Beach for advice on the matter, when she heard the sound of gravel crunching under the wheels of Bill's Chevrolet in the driveway.
Terry's hands on her cookbook began to shake, and she could tell from the sound of her husband's footsteps that things were not going to go as well as she had hoped. Oh God, she thought for an instant, why did I ever tell Elaine she could tell him? I've never lied to Bill, but why didn't I lie just this one time? Why did I do it?
She set her cookbooks back on the shelf, wiped her hands on her apron, and turned to meet Bill, who had just opened the door and was now striding through the house.
An instant later they were facing each other, Terry trembling with fear and Bill with anger. "All right," he snarled at his wife. "What have you got to say for yourself now?"
"Oh Bill," cried out Terry. "I should have told you about it myself, but I just couldn't, darling. I just couldn't! I don't know what happened, but I thought it would be better coming from Elaine, that's all. One minute I felt all right, and the next minute I don't know what happened. I just feel a sort of blank in my memory . . . " Terry's voice was clear and distinct, but it was showing signs of cracking. She gasped sharply, fighting to hold back her tears.
"The hell you don't remember!" Bill's voice was harsh.
"Honest, darling, you've just got to believe me. I didn't know anything like that was going to happen. I just wanted to make some money, because I felt so sick about the bank balance, and . .. and .. . oh, please believe me! I didn't do it to hurt you!"
"How do you expect me to believe anything you say now, you slut! You lied to me about where you were going! Gardening catalogues, my foot! No wonder the roses have aphids every year, if that's what you do when you claim to be going over to Anna Holm's house."
"No," she cried defensively. "No! It was the first time, Bill. I've never ever lied to you before!"
"And besides," continued Bill's grim voice. "Elaine Travis didn't exactly tell it the way you did."
"What . . . what do you mean?" she whimpered, biting her lip to keep from breaking down crying.
"She said you couldn't get enough. She said Jake had to pull you away from a bunch of guys and then you grabbed his ... oh, shit, Terry, I can't say it! I've just found out my wife's a two-bit whore, and I can't give you a play-by-play account of what I heard."
"But it isn't like that!" cried Terry. "How can you believe all those lies? You know I'd never do anything like that!"
"I don't know anything about you anymore! I saw those pictures of you! I saw the picture of you and Jake and it sure didn't look like a rape scene to me!" he shouted.
Terry had given way to the tears that welled inside her and now they trickled in a steady stream down her cheeks. "I didn't want to do it," she cried in a little, frightened voice. "I don't know what they did to me. I guess I drank too much or something, because it's all so foggy. I didn't feel like myself at all! It's like some awful woman reached out and took over my body! It wasn't me doing that! I've never cheated on you."
For an instant Bill recollected the formidable effect the Pernod he'd imbibed had had upon his own moral fiber. However, he pushed this thought from his mind. It was different in Terry's case, after all, for if she hadn't been such a slut, he could never have gone to bed with Elaine Travis. It was all Terry's doing, he thought, momentarily forgetting that he had been a willing partner in Elaine's seduction scene before he ever suspected that Terry had so much as looked at another man!
"Please, Bill, say you believe me! I can't live with myself if you think I'm lying! Please! It's all so horrible, and you're all I have left! You've got to believe me!"
She gripped his arms, her face contorted with anguish; she begged him to forgive her, all pride stripped from her soul. But roughly her husband pushed her away. "Don't you touch me now!" he exclaimed. "Don't you ask me for forgiveness, or for understanding! That time is past, and there's only one more little thing I've got to do to you!"
"Wh-what?" asked Terry in her state of misery, wishing she had a handkerchief to dry her eyes on. She was so utterly unhappy that she'd even forgotten the chicken in the oven, and could only wish desperately that they were back in Hawaii, feeling the happiness and sunshine that now seemed so long ago.
"I saw that picture of you," exclaimed her husband roughly. "I saw you sucking Jake's prick like there was going to be a shortage of cock for the next two years. You've never put your holier-than-thou lips on mine in five years! Well, you can't fool me any longer with that fuckin' upper-class virgin act! I've seen into your very soul, now I think you need to be taught a lesson!"
"Get your hands off me!" Terry gasped, as her enraged husband roughly grabbed her around the waist.
"You shut the fuck up," Bill snarled. "I've always wanted to do this to your hot little ass, and now it's going to be something you'll never forget!" With his strong hands that had just finished gripping Elaine's body and punching her husband in the face, he grabbed his wife's shirtwaist dress at the collar and ripped it open in a swift motion. She screamed in panic and clutched at her brassiere-clad breasts, but her husband was too quick for her.
"You've been drinking," she cried, smelling the Pernod on his breath, as well as some Scotch he'd had at a bar on the way home. The odor of sex also emanated from her husband's body, but Terry was too afraid, or too inexperienced, to detect the sweet-sticky remains of semen, cuntal juice, and perfume.
"You bet I've been drinking!" he answered grimly, as he tugged the printed cotton fabric away from her body. "Why shouldn't I drink? Any man'd drink if he found out his wife was a cunt!" He then ripped the dress and apron away and tossed them on the floor in a torn pile.
"Noooooo!" she cried again. "No! I'll scream, Bill Dawson, and all the neighbors will hear! You leave me alone or ... or I'll phone the police! I'll phone my mother!"
"Why, so they all can get a piece of your ass, too? Spreading it a bit thin, baby, aren't you?" Every bit of compassion was gone from the young husband, and his mind seethed in revenge against his woman who had betrayed him. He held her in such a vise-like grip that the young woman whimpered in pain. "I guess your mother would really like to hear about you putting out for Jake Travis, wouldn't she?" As he spoke, he continued to rip away her bra and panties, until she was left in only her short white socks and gardening shoes. And then he threw her roughly onto the newly carpeted floor of their living room.
Terry gazed up in wide-eyed panic at her gentle husband who had suddenly become such a maddened stranger. It was obvious she hadn't the ghost of a chance of fighting him off. And besides, she knew that whatever cruel or unusual punishment he was about to inflict on her was more than deserved. It was all her fault, her heart cried out, and a masochistic part of her wanted to be beaten, wanted to be punished. Terry's body went limp in despair and she lay sobbing on the floor, but still her enraged husband did not take pity on her plight.
Bill felt stabs of lust and revenge shooting through his body. Boy, he'd really teach her a lesson she'd never forget, he thought, and his impatient cock began to throb and swell against his Levi's. Maybe she'd sucked off that bastard Travis, but he was pretty sure the sobbing brunette had never had it in the ass, and by God, he was going to shove it in her!
He knelt roughly down on the floor and yanked off his own Levi's and work boots. His hands reached for her full breasts and pulled his wife's body up to a hands-and-knees position. Roughly he kneaded the swaying mounds, and felt the nipples tweak to instantaneous erectness. The thought of that, less than twenty-four hours ago, another man, maybe lots of men, had fondled these very same breasts, fired him with fury. Man, he would show her to not go out looking to get laid! He couldn't wait another minute to satisfy his urgently pulsating penis, to show his cheating wife he was a better man than Jake Travis was!
Terry was crying in rough, jagged-edged sobs. What was the use of trying to escape? What was the use of anything now? Bill would never believe that last night had not been her fault, and maybe he was right, anyway, maybe it had been her fault. There was certainly no denying the fact that Jake's obscene caresses had aroused her in a way Bill seldom did, no denying the fact that she'd reached a violent orgasm under his practiced tongue! Oh, God, the very humiliation of it, of responding to a stranger the way she could not respond to her own dear husband. Terry thought she could never live with herself again, and now it hardly mattered what Bill did to her!
"Oh, no!" she groaned, crying in despair rather than protest. Never in her life had she dreamed that something of this sort would happen to her--the very shame of it was more than the young woman could bear.
Bill's painfully aching penis was swollen to almost full erection by now, and as he massaged its smooth skin it jerked in impatience beneath his fingers.
"Forgive me, Bill! I'm sorry!" Terry whimpered pathetically. But her husband took no heed of her sorry state. His vengeful feelings and usual lack of self-confidence put him in a vile and sadistic mood.
I'm going to show her a few things that'll make her sorry, he vowed to himself. Bill massaged his heavy rod of male flesh with a chuckle. His hands tightened upon Terry's quivering ass-cheeks. Forbidden thrills of excitement shot through his wife's sensuous body, only serving to make her feel the more contrite.
"Spread those legs now," barked her husband. "Spread 'em just like you did for Jake Travis!"
"Oh, please, Bill," moaned Terry. "This isn't the right time. Let's just forget all about this until tomorrow!" But she knew her husband's temper, and knew there was no real use in arguing with him in his present state.
"Fuck you in the ass, you cheating whore," shouted Bill. Terry felt his fingers yanking the half-moons of her full buttocks apart. In the next instant, a hot, wet bluntness was pressuring up against the crack of her naked ass-cheeks.
"Bill!" cried Terry in surprise. "Wh-what are you doing! NO!" The innocent brunette could not even bring herself to consider the awful act she suspected he had in mind. But an instant later the thick cock-head was thrusting directly against the forbidden orifice of her puckered little brown anus.
" A A A A AHHHH!" she cried out in abject terror.
He was going to shove his pole of hard flesh into her rectum! It would kill her . .. and, worse, it was so perverted that she'd never again be able to look herself or any other decent human being in the face! Her own dear husband must be out of his mind! She had never known he could even possibly dream of doing such an unnatural thing, such a truly sick thing.
Bill felt a sadistic thrill course through his loins as his wife's terror-stricken cry reverberated in his ears. He was really making her pay for her lewd behavior, and he was glad of it! His hungry penis pushed harder against the moistness of her tiny anal opening, but still it remained firmly clenched. The obscene sight of his huge cock with its throbbing blue veins smashed up against her tiny nether passage so incited him that he could not resist giving her white flesh a stinging slap.
"There you go, cunt!" he exclaimed, carried away by his position of dominance.
"Aaaahhh!" gasped his wife, the muscles of her tensely held anus involuntarily relaxed and, with a lewd popping noise, the pulsating thickness burst through the elastic ring at the end of her anal channel.
As the heated thickness rammed deeper and deeper into the forbidden opening, searing pain pierced through the cringing young wife. Blackness swam before her pain-dimmed eyes, and for a brief moment she thought she might faint, and hoped she would. A strong, burning smell came to her nostrils, and she realized, impaled on her husband's penis, that her roast chicken was burning in the oven, but there was nothing she could do. Her chicken dinner was ruined and her life was ruined, and she could do nothing to stop either! But then Bill's huge length of cock struck to the hilt and everything but the unbearable agony and mental degradation faded from her brain.
"AAAARRRRGGGG! OOOHHHWWW!" the obscenely skewered brunette wailed. Her husband gave his penis a sadistic twist inside the strained anal channel, punishing her for crying out. She bit down on her lower lip, trying to be silent, scarcely daring to breathe.
Bill's plunging penis could feel every vein and crease in his wife's virginal rectum. His lewdly swinging testicles brushed against the smooth flesh of her widespread buttocks, and this stimulation nearly drove him mad with passion. For several long moments, he let his penis lie embedded inside the fear-tensed passageway, now and then making it throb, and sending spasms through Terry's naked body.
Finally, Terry felt a glad relief as the long rod of flesh withdrew from her aching anus, and she was grateful that the humiliating violation was over. But before she had a chance to do anything but relax her taut muscles, she yelped in anguish as his hot thickness once again plunged into her rectal depths. But to her surprise, since her muscles had relaxed, the pain was now supportable.
Dear God, the young housewife prayed in desperation. Let it be over soon! Make him stop pounding me! Make him understand!
But her husband's cruel cock stroked in and out of her rectal channel, unheedingly. She felt as though her anus was on fire, but the pain was nothing compared to her feelings of self-disgust. So this was her price--and she knew she deserved it, but why .. . why? Her simple life had turned into a torturous nightmare, and Terry was afraid it would never, never end.
"What's the matter, you cunt?" Bill leered cruelly. "Is my cock too much for your precious ass?" As he spoke, he gave her nipples each a vicious tweak. An almost inaudible gasp issued from the squirming brunette, exciting her husband still further. Finally, when he could tell by the involuntary undulations of her hips that she was growing aroused in spite of herself, he insinuated one hand below her twitching pubic mound, and fumbled for the tiny nerve center of her clitoris.
Bill's stimulating fingers on her nipples and clitoral bud, combined with his continuous stroking deep into her virgin anus, aroused the unwilling wife to the point where she could no longer exert her willpower. Strong fingers of unwanted desire stole along her nerve endings, causing her helpless loins to quiver in response.
The impaled wife found that, once she began to relax, the hard thrustings of his bloated penis into her tiny rectum no longer sent out such terrible stabs of pain. In fact, it even felt pleasant, and the thought of enjoying such a perverse and disgusting act upset Terry even more than did the previous torture. Gritting her teeth, Terry tried with every ounce of energy she possessed to erase the erotic tremors of desire that coursed up and down her spine. It was just too shameful to actually enjoy such a dreadful thing, and the young wife thought in despair that the very act of her enjoying it just went to prove what an essentially rotten and depraved person she was.
Yet, even as she remonstrated against her own feelings, the lewd image of herself on the living room carpet while her husband pounded his lusty cock into her cringing buttocks, served only to cause waves of masochistic arousal to reverberate through her writhing body. Instead of putting her to shame, her mental picture only increased the forbidden desire deep within her traitorous loins.
Bill was perfectly aware of the effects his hand manipulation and impassioned rectal fucking were having on the whimpering, subservient female beneath him. He arched his muscular hips again and again, bearing down with fury between her shivering buttocks. The forbidden sight of his huge penis slicing again and again into her wife's virgin anus excited him even more than screwing Elaine Travis had done. Despite his feelings of anger toward the female beneath his pummeling body, or because of these very feelings, Bill Dawson felt extremely satisfied with himself.
"You like that," he taunted at his wife. He took his hand away from underneath Terry's quivering body. "You like that, don't you?"
Terry let out an involuntary groan of regret, as his stimulating middle finger left her erect little clitoris, where it had been circling in a way to rouse her desires. But she felt immediately ashamed of her groan--it was a sign of weakness, an admittance of her perverted appetites. Clenching her teeth, she tried with her whole will to hold her body rigid and unresponsive to her husband's disgusting invasion of her anus.
"Say it!" he commanded. "Tell me how much you want it in your hungry ass!"
As he spoke, his fingernails dug even more deeply into the resilient white flesh of Terry's helpless buttocks. Little red points of pain appeared on her trembling skin, and she gasped in a real agony.
"No ... no ... no ... " she protested.
Never could she humiliate herself by saying something like that to the maddened stranger who was her husband.
Bill furiously increased the tempo of his fiery strokes, and his semen-filled testicles slapped in furious rhythm against the smooth flesh of his wife's ass-cheeks. Already, deep in his burning balls he could feel the urgent stirrings of his hot, impatient sperm, but he was first determined to hear Terry beg for every single drop of it in her tight little rectum.
The skewered brunette housewife felt as though she were losing her mind. Despite her good intentions, strange tremors of erotic pressure increased throughout her stuffed anal passage, and invaded her entire body. Much to her horror, her faithless loins began to thrust back to meet every one of Bill's rampaging strokes. His penis struck, again and again, so deeply up into her rectum that it felt as if her entire insides were on fire with a burning erotic sensation. A stream of incoherent syllables bubbled out from her throat before she could stop them.
Hardly knowing what she was saying, a lust-agonized voice that must not have been her own, cried out.
"Yesss!" it wailed. "Yes! Do it to me! I want it! I want it! Don't ever stop! Ooooohhhh!"
"That's right, you bitch!" gasped her husband, between his powerful strokes. "That's what I wanted to hear! You know you love it, you hot little slut!"
He's right, thought Terry, shuddering at the terrible realization. He's right. I'm everything he says I am, and I might as well just die right now! This horrifying acceptance of her essentially evil, out-of-control self, permeated every inch of Terry's sensuous young body. But much to her horror, the treacherous sensations within her loins were only heightened by the dreadful thought. Tingles of pleasure-pain shot through her loins, and she continued to jerk back against her husband's throbbing penis.
I'm nothing but a slut! she thought in her masochistic agony. I deserve every bit of this! Nothing is too bad for my evil soul.
"Yes," she cried out in her torment. "Yes! Hurt me! I deserve it! Hurt me some more!"
Her lewd shout of submission fired her husband as nothing before ever had, and his pent-up sperm was suddenly released from his balls in a hot, thick flood.
"AAAAARRRRGGGHHH!" cried the airplane parts worker, as exquisite release surged through his long penis. With all his might, he gripped with unheeding fingernails on the soft mounds of his wife's spasming buttocks, never bothering to notice that he was cruelly digging into her tender flesh.
"I'm cumming!" he cried. "Cummmmmiiinnnggg!"
And, as the hot spurts of male sperm splashed deeply into his wife's stimulated anal channel, an unknown pressure exploded within her hotly quivering belly. Her swollen clitoris was so titillated, both by Bill's fingers and then by rubbing against the living room carpeting that, with the additional stimulation of spurts of seething semen, her sensuously-tuned body exploded in a violent and undreamed-of orgasm.
"OOOOOOOHHHHHH!" she cried out. "AAAARRRGGGHHH!" she echoed her husband's wail. Waves of masochistic climax beat through the depraved housewife's voluptuous body, and all her guilt and shame were momentarily forgotten. All she knew was sheer bittersweet ecstasy, ecstasy coming from more agony than she had ever experienced in her sheltered life.
For a seeming eternity, the deeply imbedded cock-shaft continued to flood Terry's rectal passage with hot jets of male sperm, as her body thrashed in mindless sensuality on her pile-carpeted living room floor. Then, at last, Bill's penis began to deflate and grow limp, and he withdrew it from his wife's ravished anus, which made a lewd little popping sound.
Terry remained flat on her belly upon the floor, feeling a sort of peace as the waves of orgasm slowly faded away from her satiated body. But her tranquility was shattered by Bill's gruff voice.
"Like that?" he taunted the still figure of the debased housewife. Bill Dawson felt his ego swell far beyond its former size. Man, he thought, I've really shown her! And really proved she is a slut! He knew he'd be sorry later; later on would come the regret and the sadness, alone in some rented room, wishing for the easy past. But now he could only feel his own triumph, and this feeling seethed through his satisfied body.
Terry neither looked up nor replied to Bill's taunting question. For she had nothing to say for herself, not now, and not ever again. Her husband might well be diabolically cruel, but had he not proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was a despicable whore, never to be trusted again? It was only too obvious that her body had responded to this unnatural assault in a way no decent woman's body would have responded, and now she could say or do nothing to alter that dreadful fact. Silent sobs began to wrack the young wife's naked body, and it was several moments before she could manage to choke out a word.
"Go away," she pleaded, not looking up from the floor, her voice a dull and lifeless whisper. "Please go away and leave me alone."
Bill reached for his hastily discarded Levi's and shirt. Quickly he dressed himself, flushed with triumphant revenge. "Okay," he said. "Okay, I'm going. See you in divorce court." These were his parting words as he slammed the door behind him.
For a long moment, his wife lay in the same position, her shoulders heaving with sobs of anguish. She could hear her husband's boots striding across their lawn, and then her ears caught the sound of the Chevrolet motor starting up and pulling away.
CHAPTER EIGHT
He's gone, the battered housewife repeated to herself. Bill is gone. My marriage is over. But the words had no meaning for her tortured consciousness. Finally she rolled her body over and sat up, feeling a distinct surprise to find herself in her own living room, with the familiar furnishings standing there. How could she be the same person after all these terrible events had taken place. It simply did not seem possible! Hadn't everything changed much more than this.. . but no, only she herself had changed. Her living room furniture looked back at her impartially, unseeing.
I must be going mad, the despairing woman thought to herself. I must have gone mad. It's all a dream and someday I'll wake up. Someday. .. But a terrible smell coming to her nostrils forced her out of her reverie, and she finally sat up. She felt bruised and aching as well as debauched, and her mind had become a dull throb of half-consciousness.
Rising up to a standing position, Terry suddenly identified the awful smell that wafted through the house. It was her chicken, burnt to a crisp, still in its roasting pan in the oven. And she knew she could not continue to wallow in her misery. No, life must go on; she let out a sharp sigh, walked into the kitchen, turned off the oven and opened a window.
Still feeling as though she were in a dream-like daze, Terry opened her husband's liquor cabinet and surveyed it's contents. She wished she could remember how to make a Stoned Sour, she thought, a wry smile playing at her once-innocent features. She knew she needed a drink, needed total obliteration that only alcoholic sleep could bring. Finally she poured some vodka into a tall glass, adding ice cubes from the freezer and apple juice from the refrigerator, remembering, even in her terrible condition, that apple juice has less calories than orange juice.
My life is ruined forever, she thought, the words beating dully into her brain as she sipped her makeshift screwdriver.
Forever ruined, she repeated, but still she could feel no effect, not a trace of reality, in her dulled consciousness.
The telephone rang and slowly, hesitantly, the still-naked housewife walked over to pick up the receiver.
"Hello," she said automatically. "Yes, this is Terry Dawson." She looked puzzled for an instant, listening to the voice on the other end. And then her voice cheered, acquiring a false, girlish note of gaiety. "Oh yes, Dennis Perry. Of course I remember. Well, no, I wasn't doing anything special tonight. Half an hour? Okay, sure, I'll be ready. Bye now."
Hanging up the receiver, Terry could feel nothing but amazement at the transformation which had taken place in her mind during the past few days. But why not? she reasoned. What was left? Anyway, her chicken dinner was burnt and Terry Dawson was a hungry woman.
