Chapter 8
For the next week or so Rod just coasted. He no longer thought much about his "job" at the house in Riverdale. The queer demands and sick mentally and physically exhausting fucks seemed to slacken off a little. Now his "affairs" at the house were turning out to be more or less routine. There were a series of plain, unexciting middle-aged respectable "whores" whose small talk was boringly similar.
"I think you're the cutest, handsomest thing?"
"Do you find me fuckable even though I'm paying...?"
"Is screwing the same for you with every woman, or am I different?"
He divided his time between his apartment and the house, spending much of his spare time reading and re-reading the Blair book, thinking deeply, trying to project himself into the character of Zachary, attempting to ascertain the author's truest intentions in regard to the man. Besides this there was the matter of recuperation and exercise. He slept a lot, took long walks through the Village streets.
It gave him a turn at times to see luscious, parading dolls, along Washington Square; co-eds ripe to bursting, just waiting to be fucked, gals who often looked at him with frank yearning, and to feel little or no desire for them. It seemed something was missing out of his life. A month ago the pursuit and conquest of cunt like that would have been his major preoccupation and recreation.
But now...
There'd been one more meeting with Manny Willman during which they'd discussed the Blair property, the upcoming plans for the picture's starting date. A preliminary contract had been signed. But beyond that there was nothing to do but wait and forget, for the shooting script was still forthcoming.
Meanwhile back at the ranch...
There were frequent afternoon poker games. If not that, then long, sometimes interrupted bull sessions. The house was still abuzz over Rod's seventeen-year-old virgin, the concept something entirely new to them. And though they pumped Rod about if often, kidded him about the prick ruptique he possessed that they didn't, Rod kept the session's details to himself. Despite its strangeness it was an event he never wanted to forget, a treasure he wanted to share with no one.
It was something akin to the feeling he still retained in regard to the love episode with Jean Schuyler.
For no matter how hard he tried, Rod could never become as hard-boiled and unfeeling about his curious role as a male hooker as Ken Holman, Vince Fletcher, Bob Merritt, and the rest Some of the things he'd forced himself to do still bothered him. No matter how he temporized, he still could never become overly fond of himself. He wanted out, and someday, financial conditions permitting, he'd achieve that escape. Perhaps life could come to have some meaning to him again.
In the meantime he could walk, perform calisthenics in the privacy of his apartment, he could read and watch television. He could sleep, drink, play poker, shoot the breeze with the guys. Then of course, there were the fucks in the percales in his Riverdale playroom.
And when he'd exhausted all these outlets there was nothing left but to brood, to think the most damning of thoughts. All centering about one weak-willed Rod Bradley.
If these aggravating self-condemnations weren't bad enough, on Wednesday afternoon, two days later, Jean Schuyler showed up at Riverdale, came knocking at Rod's door for her share of his prick.
He was aware of the fact that he had an appointment that afternoon, but as had become his habit lately, he hadn't made any inquiries at to who his fuck-mate would be. It was all part of the casual, off-hand attitude of the house. An attitude which more than anything personified Rod's state of mind.
Thus; Wham! Surprise, surprise!
And Happy Halloween to you, too.
"Jean!" he exclaimed. "I'll be demaned. What're you doing here?"
She flushed furiously. "What do you think I'm doing here? I want to get screwed. Aren't you going to invite me in?"
Flustered, his heart suddenly jamming itself up in his throat, he steeped back, ushered her inside. He purposely took his time locking the door, pushing the proper signal buttons. "Jean?" he said turning.
It was the most awkward of moments. For the lovely woman, straining to be defiant and sarcastic, couldn't quite bring it off. "This is the right place, isn't it? Where a gal comes to get cunt-release? Why the surprise? Isn't my money as good as anybody else's?"
Then her voice caught, she seemingly swayed and shrunk before him. Her hands shook and she couldn't look at Rod any longer. He was struck by the strongest impulse to step up to her, shelter her in his arms.
This is crazy, he thought. You ass! Why're you letting this doll shake you like this? She's business. A fuck. That and nothing more.
Her back stiffened, she looked at him with shame-laden eyes, "it was a mistake," she said. "I can see it now. I shouldn't have come."
"What do women come here for?" she flared. "I-I've been thinking about you, about how good it was at Rita's that night. That first time... before I screwed the other men."
"You remember that too?" he blurted.
Her eyes brightened with the wildest of hope. "Oh, Rod, it's true. You do remember? It wasn't just...?"
He moved now, put his arms around her, and held her close.
Doubt filled her, and she stiffened. "Or is this just an act? All part of the service?"
"Don't, Jean," he breathed, leaning his head, burying his lips in her shiny, coppery curls. "What're you trying to prove?"
"I'm sorry, Rod. I shouldn't have come, really, but I just couldn't help myself. I've been thinking, for weeks now, about how the fucking was. And I couldn't wait anymore. I had to have your prick again, even if it was cash and carry. I had to know if it had really happened. To see if I was really a woman...."
"What are you talking about?" Rod queried.
She whirled away from him, strode toward the bed, stopped, stood looking down at it. 'This is what I'm talking about. Some cock, on that pretty bed. She forced a hard smile. "C'mon, Rod. I paid the lady downstairs. I'll even leave you a nice tip. I've got money, lots of it." Her voice turned wistful. "That I've got. Go ahead, Rod. Start it. You're supposed to make love to me. That's what I'm here for."
Rod stood in dazed confusion. Why the hesitation? he goaded himself, why the doubts? This is a pay-for-play. So play, damn you!
Still he waited, looking at her with a gaping expression, taking in her sylph-like beauty, the sexy inspired get-up she wore today. His eyes swept over the agitated, swollen cones of her massive breasts, the opulent lips, the exciting shiny flow of her legs, the witchy, rapler-toed pumps she wore. She was a dazzling vision. And he wanted her cunt with heart-breaking urgency.
Yes he hesitated, a baffling confusion chaining him. He didn't want her this way, if he took her now, under these mercenary terms, it would be profanity of the rankest sort.
Jerk, jerk! he lashed himself. You have dumped your marble bag, haven't you?
The defiance had returned, full blown now; Jean's body arched provocatively, a lovely pedestal. "What are you waiting for? Am I so repulsive you can't fuck me at all."
"Well, then, come on. Just like that other night You did a beautiful job then. What's the matter? Can't you raise that prick for me a second time? And I thought you were a professional." She began tugging at her dress. "Or do I have to take care of the preliminaries all by myself?"
Angered finally, his masculinity and virility challenged, Rod strode toward her, palled her hands roughly away. "You don't have to take care of anything. If that's the way you want it, that's the way you'll get it'"
He pushed her down on the bed, went to flip the blinds. "No," she called. "Don't. Leave them open. I want to see your big prick, balls and ass." Her voice took on an eerie sibilance. "After Charles, it will be so wonderful to see you."
A puzzled frown on his face, Rod wheeled, returned to the bed. Fell beside the trembling woman, kissed her savagely, holding her in a suffocating embrace. Then he pulled away, sat on the bed beside her. Began to run his hands up and down her clothed body. She shuddered as his fingers glided on her nylons, as they toyed with her knees, just beneath the hem of her skirt.
"Please, dear," she called. "Undress me now. Get me ready to be fucked."
Rod needed to further urging. All doubts blitzed, only surging, mind-effacing desire at large with him, he set out to inflame the woman with all the finesse at his command.
Further evidence of her need was the lingerie she wore this afternoon. For beneath the demure, peach-colored slip was a brassiere and panties-he couldn't guess where she'd gotten them-that were designed with but one purpose in mind. That purpose was to tease and inflame a man to rape her, to drive a man out of his mind.
They were made of red, sheer silk, trimmed with black bee, a purposeful flurry of buds and flowers climbing their way up to the crest of Jean's sharp-peaked nipples. The panties had a heavily encrusted lacework motif on the hips, along the elastic band. One twisted vine pointed down to a giant rose which was nothing but lace covering her cunt.
For long moments he sat frozen above her, looking down on the pulsing, agitated body, admiring the tossing titties, the taut, yet voluptuous flesh, the shimmering, slim legs. An attention which Jean savored to the utmost, flexing and posing her body in even more inflaming manner.
"It's good, darling," she intoned, to have a man look at you like that. You don't know what it does to me. It makes me feel like I'm starting to be alive, wanted... fuckable. You do think I'm beautiful don't you?"
"Beautiful isn't the word. You're absolutely ravishing." He tugged at the wispy panties. "Here, let's see some more of that."
"No," she said, brushing his hands away. "You now. Then come back and finish undressing me."
Rod pulled away, and standing beside the bed, began to undress before her, until he was in his undershirt and shorts. Looking up, he saw the fiery yearning in her eyes. Teasingly he prolonged taking off his shorts. Then he stood boldly before Jean, revealing his massive prick and balls in the way that made her eyes crazy in her head.
"Oh, Rod," she wailed softly. "You're a man. Such a man!" She forestalled him with her hands when he moved towards her. "No, baby. Not yet. Just stand there for a minute. Like that. Let me look at you that lovely cockie."
A monster hand delved into his entrails, twisted them cruelly, and he was suffused with the strangest sensation as he stood there, saw the torrid adoration in her expression. That he could do this to a woman so lovely as Jean. He was filled with an incredible, aching pride.
Finally she was satisfied. 'Wow, darling," she said her eyes smoky. "Come to me. Take these rags off me." She giggled. "I wore them just for you. Did you know that?"
"I'd gathered as much." Then his hands were undoing the clasps to the brassiere, his lips devouring her breasts sucking her nipples, as soon as it was flung away. In an absolute frenzy of passion, he was pulling off the exotic panties. He felt her raise her legs, twist and curl them so he could remove them without giving up, for even a second, his mouth at her tits.
Then, swamped with an uncontrollable urge to be dose to her, he lay there, his hands sliding up and down her velvety waist and thighs. Instantly, Jean, caught up in similar frenzy, snaked her hands between their bodies, guided his prick toward her twat.
"No," he mumbled, trying to pull his mouth from her breasts. "Your stocking..."
"To hell with them," she spat. "Leave them. I can't wait any more for your prick. I've been waiting too long as it is. About four years too long." Her hands tightened on his head. "Oh, don't. Stay. Just a little longer. If feels so magnificent having my nipples sucked and being fucked at the same tune."
More stunned at the ferocity of Jean's need, as though she were trying to live a lifetime's worth of screwing in one afternoon, Rod did as she said. He sucked and fucked slowly and gently. The woman's lust fueled his own. Until he felt like the blood in his veins was bubbling and boiling.
Then finally she was begging him to ram her cunt as hard as he could. "Please, oh, please... fuck me harder... harder. I have to have more-faster-harder." Rod tightened his thighs about her and took incisive, dominant charge of things, his lips locking on hers at the same time he drove his prick and rammed her pussy like a stallion without mercy, touching her uterus each time. Her ecstatic moans and unseeing eyes became an insane spur and compliment. Again he marveled at the ecstasy she conferred to him. As her legs drifted up they harassed and herded his cock to greater fuck effort.
Abruptly her lips broke from his with a wet smack, and she was panting hoarsely, compelled him to renewed, more frenzied screwing. "It's better," she puffed, "much better than last time. Without that brandy I can sense everything. Every dee-li-cious thing. Ooooh, Rod, honey, I'm coming God, I'm coming!"
Her body froze, a moan exploded in her throat, her legs became steel pincers. "You lover, you gorgeous lover you have such a magnificent prick..." she choked.
As suddenly, as she had released her love-juke her hips were moving anew, the happy sighs were building about them again. "More, more fuck," she urged. "Please, some more of that cock!"
Rod knew there wouldn't be many more "comes" for him. The woman was all but tearing his dong out by the roots. He couldn't hold off much longer. And he began ramming faster, faster, bringing himself to her with tremendous force. His urgency brought forth joyous screams from her.
A ragged cry grew in his throat, and he wanted to spit it out, to proclaim his rapture loud enough for the whole world to hear. "You're good, Jean. Good, good. Lice all the women in the world rolled into one. Like I was making love to every woman in the world all at once. Lord, Lord... You wonderful little witch! You're the best, the very best fuck in the world!"
He bellowed as he shot forth the most tremendous load of hot sperm.
His bellows were answered; the sound coming from Jean, her face contorted in sublime release, as she shrilled her pleasure and release of cunt-juke.
He repeated his compliment: "You are the greatest, darling, the greatest."
"I'm glad, I'm glad," she sighed over and over.
"I'm sorry," Jean apologized after, as they lay beside each other on the bed, recovering, "that I screamed like that. I just couldn't help it. You're such a good fucker, I had to let you know."
"What's to be ashamed of? I yelled a little, too, didn't I? What's wrong with letting yourself go at a time like that? When you're screwing why shouldn't you let your fucker know about your pleasure? The days of the Puritans are gone. For some people, anyway."
"For me," she agreed. "I'm glad I didn't shock you."
"Nothing you could do would shock me."
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? How about that look you gave me when I first came in?"
"Yeah. I guess I was surprised at that. I don't understand, even now. Why a woman as lovely and beautiful, married to a wealthy man, should come looking to be fucked by me."
She smiled gently, stoked his face. "You are naive, Rod. Didn't you know, didn't you notice that first time. At Rita's place? Something different about me? After all the women you've screwed."
"Well, to tell the truth..."
"It's so, you wonderful dope. My cunt's hardly been fucked. I'm almost a virgin. Only once removed. By my husband. But only once."
Rod's scalp prickled. "What are you talking about?"
"You wanted an explanation. Well, there it is. I can't make it much plainer."
"Wen, try."
"My husband loved me once, on our wedding night. He broke my cherry. He was the first man, the only man. Until that night at Rita's."
"And that makes you a virgin?"
She smiled timidly. "After a fashion. Especially when you consider that he only balled me once. My husband, Charles, hasn't screwed me since then, not once in the past fourteen months."
"I don't dig." Rod said stupidly. "You trying to con me or something?"
"Is it any wonder," she chuckled, I came on like a minor volcano? How would you act if you'd had a taste and then you hadn't been fucked since?"
"You mean..."
"I mean the man I married, the illustrious Mr. Charles Schuyler, just happens to be nothing more than an out and out fake. A homosexual. How many other ways can I say it?" Her eyes blazed. "I mean that he fucked me on our wedding night because he had to. He wasn't ready to tell me the truth about his real preferences. He hasn't touched me since."
"It's incredible."
"Yes, it is. He told me later that it was his first and last screw with a woman. He put it on the line, told me he preferred boys, that he'd married me for a front, to squelch some nasty rumors that had been making the rounds of the town's inner circle. And did I want the whole ball of wax, the mansion, the cars and furs, the unlimited charge accounts or not? Or did I want to try for the divorce proceedings he dared me to institute?"
She gulped, fought back welling tears. "I don't know why it still shakes me. Vanity, I guess. It kills a woman to know her husband would rather "love" a man than her. Anyway, I compromised. I had the name, the position, all the goodies that went with it. And since I'd been a nothing when Charles zeroed in on me, going no place as a secretary, what did J have to lose?"
She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. "So it was my lucky day when Rita sent me the invite to her little party. Any wonder I tried to take you apart like I did? That night and today?"
"So, that's why," he murmured.
Her reply was too quick, too flip. "Sure, Why else? Don't tell me you read something else into it? Like..."
"Skip it," Rod cut her off. He sighed heavily. "At last I know, I understand. I've been wondering. Ever since the hot fucking we had at Rita's."
She avoided his eyes. "Yes, Rod. Now you know."
Still his disappointment couldn't entirely dispel the feeling of mounting compassion that filled him. It was a dirty, rotten trick to play on a woman-a total woman-as beautiful and eager to live and fuck as Jean. And he wondered if there wasn't something he could do-something more than he'd already done-to help her escape from the ugly trap she'd blundered into.
The words spilled from his mouth even before he'd had time to clearly think out the plan. "One thing, Jean, you won't ever have to come here again. I mean if you want me to screw you."
"You know I need and must have your prick," she said in simple sincerity. "What do you mean? Why shouldn't I come here?"
"It's not necessary. I'll come to you, I'll meet you any place you say. I'll give you my number. You can call me whenever you need to be fucked. It won't cost you a cent."
"I wouldn't dream of an agreement like that. Not paying, I mean. I've got money, I can pay. In a way it's added revenge on Charles. Spending his money like this. No, I insist on paying your fee. It's sweet of you to suggest, though."
Rod went sullen. "Maybe I don't want to be paid. Maybe I still have some shred of pride left. Can't I just do this for you, without a whole lot of analyzing?"
"But why? I don't figure it. If you're in this business."
His voice hardened. "Do you think I'm in this business because I want to be?"
"I'm sorry, Rod. I didn't mean it like that."
"Never mind. The point is, do you want my number or not?"
"Don't you get into trouble here? After all, in a way, you're undercutting Miss Olga Innstrom and whoever it is she's fronting for."
"Let me worry about that, huh?" He kissed Jean again. "Is it all set? You'll let me meet you, come right to your house if you want."
"Yes, Rod," she breathed, a tremor sweeping down her spine. "You'll be sorry. I'll call you all the time."
His heart pounded more rapidly, and for some zany, unexplainable reason he felt suddenly very happy and relieved.
"Rod?" she murmured sultrily.
"Yes?"
"Do you think we could fuck one more time? Is it all included in the price?"
"As far as you're concerned, there's no price tag on it darling," Rod said.
Jean sighed happily and began to kiss his lips and luxuriously worked her mouth over his entire body, flicking with her tongue, sucking and licking his navel flicked her tongue down his stomach until she was sucking the huge purple prick head. With her hand, she began to massage his balls-then seeing the stirrings of desire beginning to show she quickly straddled him.
"It'll be better this way darling," she said working her lovely hips in a slow passionate rhythm until again his cock filled her completely with its throbbing urgency. Her cunt was hot and tight-tighter than when he had fucked her before. Her cunt-juke bathed his rigid dong-it was heaven. Rod threshed beneath her and suddenly they seemed to be wracked with a convulsive spasm as Rod arched and Jean screamed "Darling I'm coming again... don't ever let it stop!"