Chapter 3
THE FIRST THING HE DID WAS TO SNUB OUT his cigarette in an ash tray. The second thing was to grab her panties, yank them off her entirely, turn her over his knee and spank her. She struggled to get away, to strike him, to bite him, but he held her firmly, and continued to apply the palm of his hand to her buttocks. Finally, he stopped and pushed her over on the bed.
She lay flat on her back and stared up at him resentfully. "What did you do that for?" she demanded.
He grinned at her. "Just to let you know I'm not your pimp."
Her eyes became wide. "Why," I didn't, mean it that way, Pete. Just because you lip service a girl doesn't mean you're a pimp, does it?"
"Of course not, but when I want to do that I'll do it. I don't need to be ordered about."
She took a deep breath and turned her head sideways. "I'm sorry. I had no idea you would react this way."
"Now you know. Right?"
"Are you very angry at me?"
He grinned again. "No. Not at all. Just want you to understand."
"Gee, I really am sorry." she crawled out on the opposite side of the bed, picked up her panties and drew them on. She smoothed down her short skirt and walked around the bed to him. "Kind of spoils the kick for me, Pete. Let's go to the other room and have a few drinks. Does that meet with your approval?"
"Sure, but don't get sarcastic with me or I'll spank you again."
"I'm not being sarcastic. Seems to me you have a chip on your shoulder tonight."
He smiled at her. "Maybe you're right. Let's have that drink."
They sat together on the sofa and had several drinks before she excused herself, telling him she would be right back. He watched her go to the door and open it. She disappeared into the hall and it was ten minutes before she returned. Pete wasn't sure if he was pleased or not at seeing Jeanie Price with her. Jeanie had changed from her regular street clothing into an outfit almost exactly like Helen's-hardly any bra at all and a very short miniskirt. She wore nylons, however, and this made her legs look even more pretty and sexy than Helen's. He got to his feet when they entered.
"Hi," he said to Jeanie. He turned to Helen. "Are we having a party, or what?"
"Sure," Helen said. "If you don't mind, Pete. Maybe we can find something interesting to do-the three of us."
He felt a chill go up his back. It was a pleasant sort of chill, not the other kind. "Fine," he said, grinning at them. "Always ready for an interesting evening."
Jeanie came over close to him and looked into his eyes with her large green ones. "Sure you don't mind my crashing the party?"
He studied her large, hanging breasts. "If it's okay with Helen it is with me."
"Sit down, Pete, will you?" Helen asked.
He sat in the middle of the sofa. The girls sat on either side of him. Helen passed the bottle and Pete took it, drinking from it and passing it over to Jeanie, who did the same. Pete wondered how they would go about it-he knew they were planning a sex session with him. Two girls and one guy. Might be interesting to see how they performed.
He leaned back and waited for them, making no overt move of his own. It was fun not being the aggressor for once. Let them do it, he told himself.
"Pete," Helen said. "Are you game?"
"For what?" he asked, pretending innocence.
"For anything."
"Help yourself," he said, hoping they would.
Both girls placed their hands on his thighs at the same time, almost as though they had rehearsed it. He liked the feel of their hands: it gave him an immediate erection. Jeanie was the first to touch his prick and he shivered and stretched his legs out before him. Thrill after thrill ran up and down his spine as first one girl then the other touched him. When Helen unzipped him he caught his breath and waited to see what would happen next.
What happened next wasn't at all to his liking. The door burst open and a fat man of perhaps forty stood there, frowning at the scene. "Jeanie," he barked. "What the hell are you doing here? Come back to your own place."
Jeanie jumped to her feet and literally ran across the floor to the door. She didn't speak to anyone but stepped out into the hall. The fat guy glared at Pete and slammed the door.
Pete turned to Helen. "Who was that?"
"His name is George. He's Jeanie's friend."
"He looked mad."
"Yes...he just flew in from the West Coast Saturday to see her. Guess he didn't like her over here with us. Can't blame him too much, I guess."
"Does Jeanie live in the apartment house?"
She nodded. "Across the hall." Helen zipped up his pants and he knew a moment of disappointment.
"Did you have to do that?" he asked.
"Everything is happening tonight...no matter what I want to do, something happens to prevent it."
"I'm not preventing you from doing anything."
"Well...I'm just out of the mood for the moment, Pete."
"Funny," he mused. "This guy coming from the West Coast Saturday. I met someone else yesterday who just came from there." He told her about Sandra March and her husband Harry without going into the sexual part of it. He thought she had an odd look on her pretty face as he told her this, but she said nothing, so he immediately forgot about it.
"Hand the bottle to me, Pete," she said, after a moment. "I think I'll get drunk."
He gave her the bottle. "The last time you got drunk you didn't remember what took place between us. Do you want that to happen again?"
Helen laughed. "Oh, I won't get that drunk, just a little bit."
"Tell me something. Why exactly did you bring Jeanie back to the apartment?"
Helen laughed and pressed her hand on his leg. "I wanted to get you all excited."
"You can do that. You didn't need her, too."
"Sure, I know." Helen paused. "Let's go somewhere. You ever been to a nude party?"
"No. Is there one?"
"Yes, on the other side of town. You wait here and I'll change my clothes. Won't take me long."
"Okay. Seems funny. We're going to a nude party and you're putting on more clothes."
Helen laughed and left the room. She came back immediately. "I'd better call up and see," she explained. "I'm not sure if the party is tonight or was last night." She went to the phone and dialed a number. She spoke a few words into the phone, hung up and turned around. "Good thing I called. The party was last night, Pete."
He was relieved. He hadn't wanted to go to a party, he preferred staying here alone with her. "That's okay," he told her, "we'll have our own party."
"Maybe I could ask George and Jeanie over. He's probably over being mad by now."
Pete got to his feet, went to the door and opened it. "Good night, Helen," he said, annoyed at her for making this suggestion. "I'll see you."
"Wait. Don't go. Did I say something wrong?"
"I came to see you, not to have a party here." He stepped into the hall and closed the door, waiting for her to open it and ask him not to leave.
She fooled him. She didn't come to the door and it was with a feeling of disappointment that he walked down the hall, down the one flight of stairs to the foyer and out to his car parked in front. He kept glancing at the door of the apartment house expecting her to appear, but she didn't.
Pete swore. "What the hell's wrong with me tonight?" he muttered. "That's twice I fluffed her off. Maybe I'm sick." He had no more than said this than a mental picture of Sandy March came to mind. He recalled how she had rubbed his skin dry with the towel, how she had looked at his nude body. Suddenly, he knew what was wrong with him, why he had acted as he had with Helen.
He had wanted sex with Sandy March tonight,, not Helen.
When he arrived back at his place he parked the car at the rear and entered the building. As he approached his door, he saw the one across the hall come open slowly. He halted in his tracks, his heart beating furiously, and saw her come out into the hall.
"Hello, Pete," Sandy March said softly. She was wearing a dress that fit her like skin.
"Hi," he said, trying to make it sound casual. "How do you feel tonight?" He instantly regretted saying this, but it was too late for regrets.
"How do I feel?" she asked, looking surprised. "Why, I feel great. Why did you ask that?"
He forced a smile on his lips. "Something to say. That's all."
Her breasts stuck straight out in a most provocative way. "Oh..." she said hesitantly. "I...er--"
"What?" he interrupted, thinking he might have missed a word at the beginning of her remark.
"I haven't said anything yet," she said, smiling.
He was even more aware now that, psycho-sexual or whatever she might be, he wanted this woman like mad. He turned on his most agreeable smile and looked her straight in the eyes. "Where is your husband?" he asked softly.
"He's sleeping, taking a nap." She must have anticipated what he had in mind, for she added. "He's going out after a bit, told me to wake him. When he has gone I'll...come over and rap on your door. Will you wait for me?"
He left his gaze linger on her protruding breasts. "Yes," he said, and opening his door, stepped into the apartment and closed the door carefully. His heart was beating even more furiously now. There was something wild about this woman that set him up in fine style. He was extremely rigid as he walked to the place where he kept his liquor. He poured himself a long drink and drained the glass in one fast gulp. That rigidity stayed with him for a long time, but still she didn't come to his door. He was almost ready to give up on her when he heard a soft tapping sound. He strode to the door and yanked it open. She stood there wearing shorts and a halter, both of which were very skimpy and highly revealing of her flesh.
"Come in," he said urgently.
She stepped in wordlessly and he closed the door and looked at her as she, in turn, looked at him.
"You want it, don't you?" she said.
"Yes. Do you?"
"Very much so."
"Come to my bedroom."
"All right."
He took her by the arm and propelled her to the bedroom. He released her and began to undress.
"Wait," she said, excitement in her tone, "let me undress you. I love to do that."
"All right,"
She finished removing his jacket, laying it carefully over a chair. She untied his necktie, took off his skirt and undershirt, placing them over the chair, also. She unbuckled his belt. She tugged his pants down and he stepped out of them, one foot at a time, balancing himself by holding on to her shoulder. She shoved his shorts down partway and began to fondle his prick in a most maddening manner.
"Hey," he said tensely, "take it easy if you don't want it to end before it begins."
She laughed strangely and let goof him. Removing her bra, she flung it aside and he stared down at her large, pointed breasts as they jutted straightup. The nipples were pinkish and looked like ones belonging to a teen-age girl. The breasts were firm and solid-looking. Excitement took hold of him even more than it had before. He watched as she slipped off her shorts and noted she wasn't wearing any panties. Her waist was slim and her stomach flat. The navel seemed to be quivering.
"I'm so hot," she breathed. "Take me."
He pushed her down on the bed and hung on as if fearful he would get away from her. He lowered his loins to hers and she shot her hips upward immediately, eager to make contact. She was breathing hard and he could hear a sort of rattle in her throat.
' Hurry," she begged. "I'm burning up."
He made the insertion expertly and heard her suck in her air and let it out in a frantic whoosh. She wrapped her legs around his, hooking her toes around his ankles.
"My husband," she said unexpectedly, "is a case history...in...impotence." It sounded strange to hear her say it at a time like this.
The truth was, he scarcely heard her. He felt the wetness of her cunt as he pushed forward and down, felt the heat of her body on him. The feeling was maddeningly wonderful. She pressed her hands downward on his buttocks, holding him firmly in place and, as he began to move, moved with him in perfect coordination.
It was so wonderful that no man could have made it last for long and Pete was no exception. He wanted to hit the peak and do it quickly. He did so and when he had finished she was still moving her hips about frantically, wanting more of what he had to give.
"Please," she begged breathlessly. "Rest a minute and give it to me again. I need it, so much of it. I can't stand it, stopping like this, so soon."
He felt a wave of heat running throughout his body. His rigidity was still intact and after a moment he began to move in her again but slowly. This time he would try to satisfy her instead of just himself. Slowly and steadily he moved, and each time he did her body would tremble and jerk a little, which made the act all the more exciting. He had never seen a woman like this one. She was all sex, make no mistake about it. He had the idea that she would be content to lay like this all night long.
This, however, was something he couldn't do.
It took him a long time to complete the second act of love. This was, of course, exactly what she wanted and when he finally climaxed, she sighed and clung to him desperately, moaning and crying out little words that were unintelligible.
Finally, he moved off her and lay on his back breathing hard.
She moved down a Little on the bed and placed her cheek on his stomach. "Oh," she muttered thickly, "that was so wonderful. I think I love you."
He was silent for a moment. Lifting her face with his hands, he turned it about so he could see her better. The look in her eyes were wild and strange.
There was lust there, plenty of it, but there was also something else; he didn't know what it was.
She smiled crookedly. "You're so nice to me, Daddy," she muttered. "Don't you worry...I'll never tell Mother what you do to me."
He was almost aghast at this. "W-what?" he stammered.
She sighed and again he saw the out-of-this-world look in her eyes. It startled him and he tried not to look at her, but she fascinated him so much he had to. Her eyelids half closed and she sighed deeply.
"You're my daddy, and I love you so." He found his voice. "I'm not your father."
"Well...stepfather then. What difference does it make?"
"I'm not your stepfather," he said, thoroughly astonished now and uneasy, too.
"All right. I'll just call you George. I know you don't want me to think of you as my stepfather. I'm sorry, George. I keep forgetting."
Obviously, she had at least temporarily lost con-tact with reality. He had to get out of this predicament and do it fast. He also had to do it carefully. In her state of mind she might do anything at all if he wasn't extremely careful in the next few minutes.
"Shall we get up and have a drink?" he suggested softly. "Might go down nice now..." He knew this was almost an idiotic thing to say, but it was all he could think of.
"Oh...no...Daddy...I mean George...let's just lie here awhile. I may want to kiss you...down there...you know, like I sometimes do."
A drop of perspiration ran down his face. "I'm getting up," he said firmly. "I want a drink. Come along, dear."
"I won't tell Mother," she said fiercely. "You don't have to get all nervous every time you take me, George."
Something had to be done and for want of anything better, he suddenly slapped her face hard.
She sprang away from him, half-rising from the bed. Her face returned to a normal look, the lust in her eyes lessening. She pouted slightly as she faced him. "Now what did you go and do that for, Pete?"
He breathed more easily. The slap had brought her out of her fantasy, apparently. "Sorry," he said, forcing a grin on his face. "Didn't mean to slap you so hard. It was just a love poke."
She smiled. "I think I Like it. Hit me again, not too hard."
He shook his head. "Only one love poke to a customer," he said, hoping his tone sounded facetious enough.
She laughed and threw herself on top of him. He kissed her and pulled her up from the bed. She struggled to get away from him, or to pull him back down on the bed-he wasn't sure which it was-but he held her firmly and made her stand up on the floor.
"Put your things on," he said firmly.
"Is the party over?" she asked, and for a moment he wondered if she hadn't retreated into her fantasy again.
He laughed, but it had a hollow ring to it. "For the moment. The night is young. You have to give a guy a chance to catch his breath, you know.. "
"Sure, honey," she said. "I understand how it is."
He dressed hurriedly as she did so slowly. He left the bedroom after grinning at her and, going to the liquor cabinet, poured himself a stiff one, swallowing
it down fast. He shook his head, cursing himself for being a fool. He should never have involved himself with this girl-she was too far gone.
He had another drink before she came out of the bedroom. She walked straight past him to the outer door, then stopped, turned around and smiled at him strangely.
"Thank you," she said. She seemed okay now.
"Don't mention it. I should...thank you...not the other way around." He wished he could have kept his mouth shut. It was better just to let her leave and say nothing.
"No. I insist on thanking you. I'm wondering about one thing."
The glass halfway to his lips, he held it poised in the air. "What is that?" he asked.
"Would you mind if I tell my husband about our little affair?"
He felt his pulse quicken. "What on earth for?"
She looked down at the carpeting as she opened the door. "Because...it...when I tell him the details of how another man makes love to me...it sets him up...it makes a man of him for a short time. Oh, I do so want him to be a man, some of the time."
Before he could open his mouth, she had gone, quietly shutting the door after her. If it hadn't been for the subject matter, he would have sworn the words she uttered had originated in a twelve-year-old mind. Her tone of voice, her inflection, wasn't that of a mentally mature woman.