Chapter 5
An Erotic Visitor
And so the play had begun. The actors knew their parts. The show promised to have a long and successful run. And I, for one, felt smugly superior about it all. There we were, four reasonably intelligent adults, neighbors, good friends, and we'd blithely broken the sexual barrier of monogamy without suffering the dire after-effects threatened by moralists and other partisans of sour-grapes and the kill-joy life.
I was, naturally, a bit concerned at first as to just how the affair would affect our friendship. Would we harbor subconscious grudges? Would we, when together, feel guilty or ashamed or under a certain uncomfortable strain? My answer came when, some three or four nights later, we got together for one of our regular bridge and martini nights; the game proceeded as if nothing unusual had happened. We talked as usual. Charles and John played their usual hard, domineering game. Our martini-lulls were filled with the same joviality and good-natured banter. It was hard, indeed, to be really certain that my memories of that previous night were actually legitimate. There was scarcely a mention even of our fervid encounter (the one and only slip occurring when John unwittingly muttered something about Charles giving him a dirty deal). Our game broke up at the usual hour and, without any of us having uttered a breath of a sordid illusion, Janet and John went home ... together.
It was near noon the next day when Janet called me to come over for coffee. Her voice, though, wasn't her usual come-on-over-for-coffee voice. It had a quiver in it, and I knew she was either excited about something or ready to cry. Hurrying over, I was relieved, when she let me in, to see that it was definitely the former. Her cheeks were flushed. She had that very eager, conspiratorial look on her face that one usually associates with old-maid gossips who are just bursting to divulge some choice secret.
"Okay, Janet. Out with it, before you explode," I said, as I followed her to the kitchen. (She was wearing a very flimsy housedress and her bottom jiggled invitingly. I gave it an affectionate pinch just before we sat down.)
"It's John's niece, Doris. She's coming to stay with us. For a month. Her telegram just arrived and I'm to pick her up at the airport this afternoon. I want you to come with me, Doris. Oh, just wait'll you meet this kid, Doris! She's ... well ... she's the sexiest little dickens you've ever seen. And what an odd-ball!"
"You mean she's...?"
"I mean she's ready and willing for anything!" Janet interjected. "Oh. How old is she?"
"I don't know. Eighteen, nineteen, twenty,"
Janet shrugged. "But believe me, she's old enough! I met her two years ago when John took me back to his home town. And I don't think it was ten minutes before she was giving me the eye ... you know. And a little later, as she was showing me the house, and John was talking to his aunt ... well ... we were walking up the stairs and she was behind me ... and without the slightest warning she ran her hand up under my skirt. I turned ... you know ... right there on the steps, and stared at her. Sort of dumbfounded. I want you, Janet, and right now, she told me. Well ... I went on upstairs and ... she got right down to business. She was wild, Doris! I doubt if she would've stopped even if John had walked in on us."
"Is she normal? I mean, she sounds rather sick. Is she a lesbian?"
"No. I'm sure she's not. John told me later that they've had all kinds of trouble with her. Seems she seduced the school principal or something. I asked John if she'd ever made a pass at him. He admitted she had. And from the way he sort of jerked and got all flustered when I asked him ... I wouldn't be surprised if she'd completed her pass. She and John seemed, you know ... very casual together."
"She sounds like quite a character," I nodded, a little amused to see Janet so excited about it all. And now I knew what she'd meant by her "don't knock it if you haven't tried it" remark. Sipping my coffee, I looked at her curiously over the rim of my cup and wondered just how many times she'd tried it.
"That isn't the half of it, Doris! She graduated from high school at fifteen. She's a brilliant little thing. Always has her nose buried in some stodgy old book. And the ideas she has!
Half the time she's over your head. The other half she's giving you her unique views of the world and its problems. And it's her belief that some minds and constitutions, are superior."
"Is she pretty? A nice figure?" I asked, more out of politeness than interest. I'd never seen Janet go on so about anyone before; I felt, somehow, uneasy about it. "She's perfect, Doris. Her skin is flawless. Huge eyes. She's petite. Well rounded. A really breathtaking figure." Janet had lowered her voice as she gave me this last set of opinions. The level, serious inflections in it reminded me of those golf tournament narrations on TV.
"She sounds quite amazing," I said. "But why do you want me to come along with you when you pick her up, Janet? Are you ... afraid of her?"
"Yes. How'd you guess?" Janet's eyebrows were arched high as she stared at me; it was obvious she hadn't meant to let on she was afraid of the girl.
"Because," I said, "You're as red as a lobster, your voice is shaking and I've never heard you have so much to say about a person before ... at least not in such awed tones."
"Well, I'm not actually afraid of her. I mean, not in the sense that one really fears something. I suppose she frightens me a little because ... because of the way she sort of controls me. I don't know. But I wish you would come with me, Doris. I'm sure you'll find her terribly interesting and ... and...."
"And what, Janet?" I grinned at her.
"Well ... maybe you'll find her interesting enough to sort of...."
"Share her with you?" I filled in.
"Well, why not? It might be fun. And who knows ... she might teach us a lot."
"I'll go with you, Janet," I said. "You know me. I'm always willing to learn."
We picked her up at two thirty. Standing in the terminal, waiting for her, Janet was a nervous wreck. I saw her first. A petite, raven-haired girl in the crowd. She was looking around, an intent look in her bright dark eyes.
"Could that be her?" I turned Janet around and gestured towards the girl.
"Oh! Yes! There she is! Rebecca! Over here, Rebecca!" Janet's voice was hollow and unnatural.
The girl's face lit up like a soft amber light. (Indeed her flesh had an amber cast.) She walked towards us rapidly, smiling, as they say, from ear to ear. My first impression of her was that she was a very warm, ardent, friendly young girl; not the sort to arouse feelings of either antipathy or fear. Her smile was genuine.
"Janet! How wonderful! I was hoping that it would be you who'd pick me up," she glanced quickly at me and her smile seemed to deepen. (Her mouth was a bit large, I noticed, but her lips were marvelously full, soft and sensual.) Her voice was low and somewhat scratchy.
Janet introduced us. Rebecca's eyes dipped for a brief instant to my breasts. Then she looked me straight in the eye and held out her hand. I took it, and sustained a slight shock to feel how warm and wet it was; her grip, for so slight a person, was inordinately firm.
Driving towards home, she sat between us in the front seat. Going by Janet's description I was prepared to hear a running line of non-conformist monologue. But no. She said very little. Outside of a comment or two about how things had changed since her last visit to
Los Angeles, she spoke only when spoken to. I liked her perfume. It was evidently something quite special, for it seemed to rather blend with her looks. Then, as we pulled up in front of the house and parked, Janet's claims about her were suddenly driven home to me quite forcefully. Just as I was beginning to get out-with the door half open-she reached over and put her hand on my thing and said, "I'm truly glad to have met you, Doris. Excuse my hand, but I suddenly felt I wanted to touch you. Your leg is so warm and nice. You like my mouth, too, don't you? Would you like to kiss me? Go ahead, Doris, I'd like it."
I felt rather dumb. It was all so very ... so ... unexpected. "Well ... I ... I ... , " I felt my cheeks grow hot.
"She's teasing you, Doris," Janet spoke up. "Come on. Let's get out. I want to get Rebecca all settled before John gets home," Janet opened her door.
"I wasn't teasing her. I'll prove I wasn't," Rebecca replied; then, reaching for my chin, she tilted my head and planted her lips fiercly against mine! Her tongue was soft and slippery, and as vital and impudent as a young boy's phallis (how I know that I'll never tell). I kissed back at her; she made a strange sound and then broke away. She laughed, then-a low, derisive chuckle, and said, "We'd better get out. I'm anxious for Janet to tell me ... ha!-settled. But do come over as soon as you can. I'm sure the three of us can invent some fun things to do ... together. Has anyone ever told you, Doris ... that you have eyes like a snake's? Very sexy though. I like snakes eyes."
I went home in a trance; all evening, trying to talk sensibly to Charles, I felt dizzy and above all things. And (rather desperately) I deluded myself, thereby, that I was more fortunate than most. I, at least, knew where I was going ... and even a blind alley holds forth a rosier promise than the average person's nowhere ... or so it seemed to me then.