Chapter 11
The Blue Fox Lounge might as well have been Grant's Tomb. It was that quiet after Peg finished telling the girls about how Harry had caught her in the arms of a very questionable paramour: a black stud garbage collector with a ten-inch whanger.
Even their martini glasses sat forgotten in front of them.
"Jesus," Rita breathed finally. "You mean Harry just walked right in while you and this ... uh ... fellow were-"
"Screwing like apes," Peg said, nodding soberly. "I thought Harry's toupee was going to shoot up and stick on the ceiling. He looked as if somebody had rammed the bedpost up his-well, up his you-know-what."
"He was a little angry?" Mary asked softly.
"Angry? How do you think you would feel if you had always considered your wife the flower of Southern womanhood, and you came home to find her with an eleven-inch vibrator up her ass and a super-coon stud balling her like gangbusters?"
"You didn't tell us about the vibrator," Jill said weakly.
"You didn't ask. Anyway, I might as well make a clean breast of the whole thing. I love vibes and Scotch."
"And well-hung black boys," Rita offered.
"Yes. But don't know 'em if you haven't tried 'em." And on that faintly amusing remark Peg glanced around the table at her three friends. Instead of finding them amused, or even sympathetic, to her hair-raising tale of being caught by Harry, she found them more glum than ever. They looked as if they had lost their clits at Auschwitz.
"Hey, girls," Peg hummed, "you don't have to act like it's the end of the world. I'm the one who got her tail in a crack with Harry. It's no skin off your-"
"Don't be so sure," Rita cut in. "It so happens I've got real troubles of my own-with Walter."
"Ditto with me with Arnold," Jill said. "So that makes three of us."
"Would you believe four?" Mary sighed.
Peg couldn't resist a bitchy little grin. "You mean all of us got caught?"
They all glanced around at each other with sheepish, unhappy looks.
"Remember my high-heeled time with that swimming pool cleaner?" Mary asked. "Remember how clever I thought I was to have screwed him in my bedroom while Frank was off at the office?"
"Yes, so what?"
"Frank found my bra out in the filter house, and he's some kind of evil genius at putting two and two together."
"You were lucking," Rita breathed. "At least a lost bra is only circumstantial evidence. I really got nailed by Walter. Remember the wild time I just told you about with those two mule-type Texas truck drivers?"
"Uh-huh."
"Well, when I got home I took off my clothes and ran a big tub of hot water. I was bending stark-naked over the tub testing the water when Walter strolled in."
"So?"
"Sol had dozens of greasy thumb prints on the cheeks of my butt, that's all. How do you explain that away in one easy fib?"
Peg smiled and glanced at Jill. "And how did you get caught, sweetie?"
Jill paled and took a listless nibble at her martini. "Well, it wasn't because Big Jake the plumber left a leg wrench under my bed. It was worse than that. When Arnold got home and saw that a couple of plumbers had torn up the sink for nothing, he stormed down to the rooter place and gave them hell. Then, as my damned luck would have it, Arnold decides he has to pee. He goes into the John at Big Jake's place, and what does he see written in big letters on the wall over the toilet?"
"Oh, Christ, don't tell me that-"
"You guessed it. That little bastard helper of Big Jake's, namely Willy, had written: FOR THE BEST PIECE OF FREE HOT ASS IN TOWN CALL 444-2922 AND ASK FOR JILL!"
"Jee-sus, honey."
Peg was the only one who seemed to find the confessions amusing. She picked up her martini glass and proposed a toast. "Here's to the Fallen Four-and do we meet next in the divorce court?"
To her surprise, her three girl friends stared at her as if she'd lost her mind.
"Divorce?" Mary echoed. "Who said anything about divorce? I said I got caught, but I didn't say Frank blamed me for anything."
"Same goes for Arnold," Jill purred. "He was really so nice and understanding about the whole thing. He even told me that he loved me more for it. And, of course, that's why I feel like such a heel right now. Slipping around on my darling Arnold while he's as faithful as a rock."
"I know what you mean," Rita agreed softly. "When my Walter had a few hours to cool off, he was so nice to me I thought I'd cry. Even brought me some flowers this morning before he left for the fishing trip with Harry."
"Huh?" Peg muttered. "What fishing trip with what Harry?"
"With your Harry, honey. Walter said that your Harry had invited him and Mary's Frank and Jill's Arnold to go out to that lake cabin of yours for an all-day fishing trip and five-card stud."
"That's right," Jill and Mary both chimed.
By this time Peg's eyes had narrowed to cunning, burning slits. "Why, that sneaky, baldheaded little sonovabitch!" she hissed.
"Peg," Rita gasped.
"Don't Peg me," Peg snapped. "Do you know what that little weasel told me he would be doing all day today? He said he had to set a broken hip out at the Heavenly Days Old Folks Home!"
"Huh?" Jill twittered.
"And as for a fishing trip," Peg continued, her voice rising like flint against a blackboard, "that ding-dong Harry wouldn't know a trout from a whale. He hates fishing, and I've never known him to play a game of cards in his life."
"Come to think of it," Mary added huskily, "I wondered why the devil Frank was so interested in going fishing. I mean, he used to say fishing was his idea of nothing to do."
"Then if they aren't fishing and if they aren't playing five-card stud," Rita ventured, "then what the hell are they doing out in a lake cabin!"
Peg grinned bitterly. "Oh, they're playing stud, all right. But not with cards."
Jill still looked moderately blank. "But why would they want to sneak off and-"
"Revenge, you innocent dimwit," Peg sputtered. "Can you imagine anything so low and treacherous!"
"I just don't believe Frank would do anything like that behind my back," Mary said flatly.
Peg snorted. "Humph! And what in Christ did you do behind his-besides fuck his foreman and blow his office boy!"
"But. . . but if they are out there doing something," Rita trilled, "who are they doing it with? As far as I know, Walter doesn't even know any loose women."
"Maybe they're not loose, honey," Peg snarled. "Maybe they've just got extra-long tethers-like us."
Mary pushed up from the table so fast that her martini glass clanked over. "There's only one damn way to find out," she howled. "C'mon, girls, we're heading for the lake!"
Trooping out of the Blue Fox Lounge like a small tribe of Trojan women, they piled into Rita's convertible and roared off toward the same by-pass where Rita had worked the truck driver trade.
They made only one stop-at Peg's house, to pick up. a pair of high-powered binoculars. With tempers only mildly cooled, they had already rejected not to drive screeching and honking right up to the lake cabin. Better to sneak up on the place and see what they could through the glasses. "After all," as Jill insisted, "those two-timing, lousy sneaks might just really be fishing."
The cabin was out on Rooster Comb lake, so named because of the wriggly inlets that bound one side of it. Fortunately, it was at the Up of one of those inlets that Harry and Peg had built their dream cabin some four years back. An impressively modern, Playboy-type bachelor pad that Peg had thought Harry would love to escape to on weekends. It was all sliding glass doors, rustic shingles, and exposed aggregate concrete, with a high rock wall shutting off the landscaped area behind it from the casual tourist.
But Peg knew exactly where they could go to get a perfect view of the cabin and the yard.
They parked the convertible hell and gone from the winding lake road, then crawled through shrubs and rocks to a sharp peak about fifty yards from the cabin.
"Gimme those binoculars," Peg grunted, as she slumped her hips down on one of the rocks and glared in the direction of Harry's hideaway.
"See anything?" Jill breathed helplessly.
They knew from the slow way that Peg's mouth began to fall open that she was seeing plenty. After a few heated seconds of peering through the powerful glasses, Peg handed them over to Mary.
"You better see what your angel Frank is doing," Peg snorted. "He's the only one I can get a bead on ... and that's because he's out in the backyard with-"
"With who?" Mary snapped.
"See for yourself, honey."
Mary snatched, the glasses and put them up to her eyes, working the viewfinder like Napoleon at Waterloo.
What she saw made a burning flush of shame and rage circle through her loins!
Her husband Frank was lounging stark-naked in one of those low-slung, orange beach chairs. He had on a silly, fringed Jamaican straw hat and a tall drink in one hand. But what turned Mary's blast furnace on was the equally naked, long-legged, blonde young woman who was sitting on Frank's lap and kissing his hairy nipples!
"That tramp! " Mary hissed. "I know who she is, too! She's that cheap, yellow-blonde waitress that always serves Frank and me at our favorite pizza parlor!"
The rest of the girls sat in stony silence as Mary continued to drink in the shocking facts of life-her husband's sex life!
She watched as the blonde girl-a deliriously young and pretty and full-titted thing-lifted one of her legs off of Frank's lap, and allowed his fully erected penis to come up between her thighs like the head of a giant snapping turtle. Mary stared in disbelief as the slutty young lady toyed with her husband's delighted prick, and rubbed the bloated tips of her nipples teasingly against his chest.
"That bitch!" Mary moaned.
"Any sign of Walter?" Rita demanded hoarsely.
But Mary didn't have time to think about Rita's problems. She was too hypnotized by what Frank and the blonde waitress were doing next. And that was almost exactly what she had done with Willy, the plumber's helper. Mary let out a little sob of fury as she saw the blonde lift her glimmering white buttocks and position her gaping cunt deftly over the rearing head of Frank's hard cock. Then, with a grin on her face that revealed every nuance of her pleasure, the girl lowered her hips and took Frank's hard-on up her pussy to the balls. Mary hissed like a serpent.
"Here," Jill groaned. "Let somebody else have a look."
Mary was too weak with rage to resist when Jill grabbed the binoculars out of her hand. But it was several minutes before Jill let out a little gasp of her own.
"What do you see?" Peg breathed.
"Plenty! They've opened the cabin drapes."
All hands grabbed for the glasses, but Peg's were first.
"Lordy,'. she gasped, glancing away briefly from the binoculars toward Rita. "Sweetie, you've been hiding things from the rest of us. Why didn't you tell me Walter was hung like that!"
"Gimme those glasses, dammit," Rita puffed.
Peg handed over the long-distance eyes, and Rita zeroed in on what was going on inside the cabin. And plenty was. Her own Walter was standing right in front of the big glass window, wearing nothing but a leering smile. That big prick that she had assumed was hers alone was now in the process of being avidly sucked by a strikingly beautiful woman of about thirty: a female who with her long, raven-black hair and her brightly painted fingernails looked disturbingly familiar to Rita.
"That's Miss Douggle!" Rita hissed. "And the brazen slut is sucking Walter's thing."
"Who the crap is Miss Douggle?" Peg asked, grinning.
"It's the head salesclerk at Lord and
Finch wheelers-where I buy my clothes!"
Rita stared with a rising shock of shame as she watched the same sophisticated, charming career woman who had served her dozens of times bobbing her head back and forth to make Walter's rod almost disappear into the depths of her throat. Even through the binoculars, Rita could see the little spots of coral pleasure coloring Miss Douggle's cheeks as the long, rigid column of Walter's meat throbbed hotly against the sides of her mouth. And as the slutty saleswoman ate him, she took more and more, until when it was perfectly obvious that Walter might shoot off his balls, her ovaled lips were crushed against his pubic hair.
"That cocksucking trollop!" Rita groaned. "I could kill her!"
But kill or not kill, Rita couldn't drag her eyes away from the erotic scene taking place in the cabin. She found herself looking her naked Walter up and down from head to foot, marveling at how little she had appreciated that body of his in the past. He was trim as a twenty-year-old boy, she realized, and she felt a grudging envy for how much fun Miss Douggle was having with his enormous penis.
"What I want to know," Jill was whispering, "is where the screw is Arnold!"
"Yeah," Peg grunted. "And Harry has got to be around there some place, the bastard."
Rita handed the glasses to Jill. "Here-I can't watch any more. That bitch man-eater is going to chew Walter's nuts off before she's through."
It was Jill's turn to look again, and by so doing she solved the riddle of the missing Harry.
"There's your hubby," Jill said to Peg, "and I wouldn't want to be the one to tell you what he's doing."
"I don't give a damn what he's doing," Peg snorted, reaching for the glasses. "I want to know who he's doing it with!"
She found out by looking. Harry had appeared at the other corner of the cabin window, naked as an ape and grinning like a sailor on shore leave. Even his toupee was off, and Peg could see at least a dozen perfect imprints of lipstick on Harry's bald head and his hairy chest, and in only seconds she saw the owner of the red lips. It was Harry's night nurse at the hospital!
"That slut!" Peg husked.
She watched as the bosomy young nurse with tangled, tawny gold hair moved willingly into the outstretched arms of her mature lover. The nurse's jouncing tits, pink-nippled and pointing, came up to meet the lowering bald head as Harry's mouth began to hungrily suck at them. As he chewed, the nurse threw back her head in a lusty show of pleasure, and began to tweak Harry's ears with the tips of her fingers.
"I've heard of playing doctor and nurse," Peg groaned, "but I thought only kids did it out in the barn."
It was while Peg was watching the steamy breast-feeding antics of her Harry that another couple strolled across her view.
"You want to know what Arnold is doing?" Peg asked Jill.
"Can you see him?"
Peg grunted. "That depends on which part of his anatomy you're talking about."
That remark made Jill whip the glasses out of Peg's hands to have a look-see for herself.
"HER!" Jill roared.
She was referring, of course, to the arrogant young lady fresh out of secretarial school whom Arnold had hired only two weeks before. With her horn-rims off-to say nothing of all of her clothes-the girl looked like a French whore full of Spanish fly. As Jill gaped, Arnold hoisted the lithe, giggling young secretary right up to his mouth by holding her by both buttocks. She locked her legs eagerly around her boss's shoulders as his face vanished into the open V of her crotch. He was obviously eating her!
It was the last straw-for all of them.
But just what the hell they expected to do about it, they didn't know!
As usual, it was Peg who broke the spell by throwing back her head and letting out a raucous hoot of laughter.
"I don't see anything so damn funny," Rita fumed.
Neither did the others, and they glared at Peg with smoldering eyes.
"But I see," Peg said, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Don't you realize what they're doing? It's tit-for-tat. We went out and roped ourselves a few blue-collar working-class studs, and so they went out and did the same thing. Waitress, sales gal, nurse, and secretary."
"And that's funny?" Jill snorted.
"Only if we let it get our goats. Look, I don't know about the rest of you, but one good plan deserves another. Mary, you had your bright idea, and now I've got one, too."
"It better be a good one," Mary breathed.
Peg grinned. "Don't worry, gals. If this idea for pepping up our sex lives works the way I think it will, I'll bottle it!"