Chapter 14

The next morning, as Shelly sat alone in her big chair, she raised her hands in a gesture of inarticulate and unknowing pleading. "This isn't life, to be alone, in agony all the time," she sadly said out loud. "This isn't the real thing. I'm on a bridge looking down at the water. I'm dry and comfortable, but I have a terrible longing to swim, to plunge into the water, and get it over with."

Breathing deeply, partially from the excitement of her thought, partially from the embarrassment of what she was about to do, she fought for composure. It was, after all, a reasonable thought. She disregarded what some people would think.

But this was not an ordinary situation, she assured herself, and extreme measures were a necessity.

She wanted to tell herself that the idea had come to her on a sudden impulse but she knew better. She wanted to tell herself that it would pass, that it wasn't right. But in the dark reaches of her mind she knew what she planned was no fleeting thing, that she had thought of it, perhaps unwittingly at times, for many years.

She smiled. She did so because her mind finally accepted the idea. And conscience be hanged.

She got up and walked quickly to the phone, dialed a number, then waited for her party to answer.

"Hello, this is Mr. Williams," she heard a voice say.

"This is Shelly."

"Oh, hello," he said coolly. "What can I do for you?"

"Darl ... Ira, I've got something I'd like to talk to you about," she said softly. "It's important."

Uneasily, Ira asked, "What is it?"

"It's something we can't talk about on the phone, Ira. I have to see you in person. Can you come up to my place tonight?"

"I-I don't know. I, ah...."

"Good. I'll expect you around seven," she said curtly.

"Golly, Shelly, I don't know," he evaded. "I'm pretty busy and...."

"Ira," she said firmly. "I have to see you. I'll be waiting for you at seven."

He sighed heavily into the phone, as though he'd been selected for the guillotine. "I-I'll try I don't know if I can make it right at seven. You know how this business is."

"If you're a little late, it won't matter," she told him. "Just so you're here. Okay?"

A vivid flush covered Shelly's face after she had hung up. She was excited over having a man visit her once again, yet she was ashamed over what she was about to embark on.

Ira Williams has plenty of money, she thought, and he likes sex as well as the next man. In fact, the fat little thing is pretty good at it, considering the equipment he has. He was married, per haps happily so, and he would be unable to refuse her offer of love for pay.

"Ira ... honey," she purred that evening a she sat beside him on the sofa, "you do care for me, don't you?"

"Why, ah, of course I do. You know that."

"Then why don't you kiss me? You've been her a whole fifteen minutes already and you haven' even touched me," she pouted.

"You said you wanted to see me about, some thing important," he said. "What is it?"

"Oh, nothing much. I just wanted to be with you, that's all. How about a drink?"

Ira looked at her, a slight look of annoyance on his face. And there was a look of mild apprehension there, too. He had the sinking feeling he had fallen into a trap from which there would be no easy escape.

Appropriately, Shelly had attired herself in nothing more than her filmy negligee, and she made certain the lighting in the room was just enough so he could see her figure beneath it.

When she returned with the drinks, she coiled up on the sofa next to him, her knees exposed and one arm around his neck. "Now, how about another kiss?"

He leaned over and kissed her quickly, but reluctantly, then gulped two big swallows from his glass.

"Darling, you're sweet," Shelly purred. "Please love me tonight like you did last night."

"I-I can't," he stammered. "Not tonight. No more ... ever."

Shelly couldn't believe what she had heard. She felt a quick twinge in her stomach, as though an icicle had been dropped into it. "Oh, come now, you can't mean that," she said, smiling weakly.

"Yes, I do," he told her firmly, wiggling away. "I'm not in the habit of doing things like, ah, well, what we did last night. It was just an impulse or whatever you want to call it. I was ashamed of myself afterward."

Not conceding defeat, Shelly moved her hands gracefully and stroked the inside of his thigh. She felt him tense, then tremble slightly and his breath sucked in noisily.

"You can't mean what you're saying," she said softly. "You know you enjoyed every moment of it. You'll enjoy it just as much tonight. You know you will, darling."

"No!" he exclaimed. "I don't want to ... to fool around anymore. It isn't fair."

"Fair to who? Your wife?" she snapped, sarcasm etching her voice.

Ira started, as though he'd been slapped. All the desire he might have had for Shelly suddenly drained out of him. He didn't want her anymore. He cursed himself for having been weak in the first place. He squirmed uneasily and wiped the back of his hand across his forehead.

When she saw she had struck a vital spot, Shelly pressed her attack. "If you love me ... tonight ... there's no reason why your wife should ever find out about us." She ran her forefinger around his ear, then tried to pull him toward her. She moved a bare knee against his leg.

"And ... and if I don't?" he asked hopelessly.

"Well, darling," she purred, "you wouldn't want me to do such a nasty thing as calling your wife and telling her where you spent the evening, would you? And I can tell her to look at your back. She'll wonder where the scratches came from."

"You ... you wouldn't!" he exclaimed. He looked at her and a feeling of deep loathing came into his eyes.

"I didn't say I would, but you have to be nice to me so I don't. You know, I'd hate myself if I had to do such a thing." She smirked a little and continued toying with his thigh. "Am I so hard to take?" She touched the little lump in his crotch where his limp cock lay. "You don't want to be mean to that, do you?"

"Stop it!"

"What's the matter, afraid it might get hard and then you won't be able to control yourself?" she chided. She pinched his cock again.

"I'm not interested in anything like that tonight," he said lamely, as he fought against getting a hard-on.

"Come on, honey, let's be friendly. There's no need for us to argue over such a silly thing as a little sex. Frankly, you turned me on, which surprised me; I didn't think you'd be that good. But you were terrific."

A grimace contorted Ira's face as he felt her fingers tighten once more on his cock, which had now responded by swelling slightly. He wanted to get away from Shelly, yet when she purred in his ear and toyed with his dick, he felt he might concede and take her to bed once more. A look of helplessness spread over his face. He was losing the battle.

"How about a drink so you can relax a little?" she asked.

He handed her his glass. Maybe liquor would help-one way or the other. He would either be able to resist her or he would be able to carry out what she asked without his conscience tearing him up. Mild-mannered as he was, a stabbing surge of hatred went through him and made him think of violence he did not believe was there.

Shelly, on the other hand, instead of feeling depressed over her forceful actions, had a lifting exhilarating sensation spread through her. Once more she had been the winner. She knew Ira was wilting. After all, he had done what she had expected him to do. It was the honorable thing for a man, she knew, and she knew he was satisfied with his initial rejection of her to salve his conscience. She understood. Once the few scattered clouds of bitterness passed, giving way to passion, he would love her all the more.

Shelly was a far superior bed partner than his wife, Ira realized ruefully. Angrily, bitterly, cursing the complicated fates that rule life, he tore at his clothes in a desperate move to show Shelly he would comply with her wishes-but against his will.

Shelly's body would be the instrument by which he would relieve his bottled-up frustration. She wanted to be fucked, so he would fuck her, violently, crudely. He would pound her desires unmercifully, make her plead for him to stop. Yes, he vowed, he would give her a fucking she wouldn't easily forget-like a hammering, unfeeling pile driver!

Unfortunately, the enthusiasm Ira Williams had for his planned act of crude, violent sex did not coincide with his anatomy. He hadn't taken into consideration that the tool he intended to pile drive into Shelly was more like a tack hammer.

And it was Shelly who unthinkingly brought this shortcoming to his attention more forcibly than he had realized himself.

"More! More!" she screamed. "Honey, I want all of it!"

"Damn you!" he exploded as he panted over her. "You're so fuckin' big you can't feel anything anymore!"

"More, lover! More!" she repeated. "Come on!"

"God damn you!" he shot. "What the hell more do you want?"

She collapsed under him, breathing hard. "You're so little," she said disgustedly. "I can hardly feel you."

"If your goddamn cunt wasn't all stretched out of shape maybe you'd have some feeling in the damn thing!"

She started her motions again, driving her hips up to him and clutching at his ass to press him tighter against her. "Fuck me, damn you! Don't stop now! Come on, baby ... fuck!"

This exchange of words in the midst of their rough sexual union did not improve Ira's condition. Instead, he found himself losing some of his passion as well as noticing a slow, gradual diminishing of his small cock.

"Jesus Christ!" she cried. "Don't lose it now!"

"You're not helping any," he protested, driving his sweaty body into hers.

Doggedly, Ira plunged on, trying to satisfy himself before she stripped all emotion from him. Her body was trembling uncontrollably beneath him and he drove viciously at her, driving her down each time she rose to meet him.

Then, with a panting grunt, he shot his wad into her.

Dazedly, she realized what had happened. "No, darling, not yet!" she screamed, but too late. "No, no, no!" She drove up in frenzied frustration, digging her nails vengefully into his back. "One minute more! Just one minute!" Shj was wild with fury, but there was nothing she could do. It was over.

"It was horrible!" she said finally, collapsing helplessly beneath his weight. "God, it's bad enough that you have such a tiny prick, but to come before I was ready...."

Stiff with anger, Ira rolled off her. On one hand, he felt embarrassed that he had been unable to hurt her, yet he was pleased that he had left her wanting.

Afterward, both still smarting and sullen, they lay motionless on the bed. Shelly's brain was filled with anger and frustration while Ira was being swept by a feeling of shame.

Finally, after an interminable span of silence, Shelly turned to him and said, "Would you like to try again?" There was a pleading, almost despairing tone to her voice.

"Not me. I've had it," he clipped.

Shelly was thinking of two things. First, she knew she could not afford to have her unwilling bed partner too angry with her, lest he flatly refuse to have anything further to do with her despite her threat to talk to his wife. Second, she still had a strong yearning to be sexually satisfied, regardless of how he felt about it.

"It was just a thought, darling," she said softly. She raised herself and peered down into his perspiring face. "Just to be nice to you."

"Nice to me? You've got to be kidding!"

"If you do, you won't have to come back tomorrow. Don't you think that's considerate of me?"

He glared up at her. "I hadn't planned on coming back tomorrow anyway. Or the next day, either."

"Now, now, that's no way to talk. If you want, we can make up a schedule when you're supposed to be here and when you can go home to your wife. That way...."

"Schedule? Jesus Christ, you must be out of your mind!"

"Don't be angry, dear. You know you ,like being here and you know, too, that I want you here. I think it's a very sensible arrangement."

He took his eyes off her and stared up at the ceiling. He felt helpless again. His mind whirled. What kind of woman had he gotten mixed up with, anyway? he wondered.

"And if I decide I've had enough?" he asked softly, without looking at her.

"Let's not even talk about that," she said. "I don't want you to be bitter, darling, so I won't even mention it."

"You're trying to blackmail me," he said weakly. "But I'm not going to let you control me like a puppet, dangle me around like a toy. I have other obligations, you know."

Shelly's eyes brightened at the opening his words had left. "Speaking of obligations," she said. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about and...."

His head jerked around so suddenly that she stopped talking. He glared at her angrily. "Do I understand what you're getting at? Are you hinting that I have some kind of obligation to you?"

Shelly turned away in feigned shyness. "Well, a woman has to live, you know. And now that I'm not working...."

"Yeah, I get it now," he said. "You worked this all out just to get me to keep you up, didn't you?"

"I didn't say you had to keep me," she replied softly. "That is, not entirely, but it does take a little to keep food in the house and, well, maybe a few other little things."

Disgustedly, he stared at her, half afraid to believe what he had heard. "Boy, you really believe in making that old box of yours pay off, don't you? Here you are getting fucked and you want to fuck me right back. Great!"

"I think it's a nice arrangement."

He sighed deeply and shook his head. "God, how did I ever get mixed up with a goddamn prostitute and a blackmailer at the same time?"

Shelly hung her head, stung slightly by his words. "You didn't mention love," she said soft ly. "Don't you have even a little feeling for me? I do for you."

"Shit! The only thing you have feeling for is cock and money!" he snapped. "How many other guys are you putting the screws to?"

She touched his arm lightly with her fingers. "There are no others, darling. You're the only man who's ever come up here. So you see, I'm not really all that bad."

"Just an innocent, all-American woman, eh?"

"Well, no matter how you look at it or what you call it, I still have to live and I'm willing to go to bed with you any time you want. You seemed anxious enough to go to bed with me that first night. Why can't you be just as anxious to do it every so often ? As for the money, why don't we just call it a loan each time you ... ?"

"Hell, yes, let's call it a loan," he said. "Of course, you didn't say anything about repayment. How about if we call it rent instead? You know, equipment rental." He put one pudgy hand between her legs and gave her pussy a tweak. "And if you're going to rent that thing out, I think you should make the most of it. Would you like to have me send you some other customers?"

"You make me sound like a professional."

"Well, what the hell do you think you are? You sell your ass and you become a whore. It's as simple as that."

"I don't like that word."

"You're the one who decided to wear the label."

"It's not like that at all. It's not as though I was having dozens of men use me every week and paying me for it. That's what a prostitute does."

"One or a dozen, what's the difference?" he asked. "I should think you'd want a lot of guys dicking you. As goddamn hot as you are, I don't see how one man could keep your old cunt satisfied!"

"Please don't talk like that to me," she said in a hurt voice. "There's no need for vulgarity." Then, warming to the original plan, she said, "Let's just call it a little arrangement between us as I mentioned earlier. No one else has to know. And I promise, I won't do anything foolish if you can't make it when you're supposed to."

Resignedly, knowing there was no way out for him, he asked, "All right, how much would you say this arrangement is worth per night? Are you going to go by street prices or just what you think your pussy is worth at the time?"

"Must you be so nasty?" she asked.

"No, I don't have to be, but it makes me feel better."

"As to what kind of money arrangement we have, well, I'll leave that up to you."

"How the hell would I know what a whore charges? I never knew one until you came along!"

"Please don't start that again," she said coldly. "I don't like it."

"Well, let's see, good ass, I understand, goes for about a hundred a night. But that's prime stuff. You know, chicks in their twenties with figures that haven't sagged all out of shape. A woman gets up in her forties, the price comes down and...."

"You should know what it takes to live," she broke in.

"You mean you really do want me to keep you up all the way?" he asked, frowning. He was hoping a twenty here and there might keep her quiet.

"It doesn't take much to keep me up. Just the rent and a little food and...." ... " a little booze," he cut in, looking toward the glass on the night stand.

She shrugged. "Well, yes," she said. Then, brightening, she added, "But it's for you, too, dear."

"Wow."

"I'm sure you won't mind a little liquor now and then. After all, we have to have something to drink, don't we? And, please, dear, don't be so bitter."

"I'm overjoyed," he grumped.

She ran her index finger around on his chest, then down onto his belly. "Why don't you make love to me one more time?" she asked.

"Those rocks in your head are beginning to rattle," he said. "How the hell could I after what you've just hung on me?"

She snuggled a little closer. She took one breast and held the nipple against his lips. He turned away.

"All right," she said. "Let's rest a little."

"By the way, when am I booked again?" he asked.

Shelly ignored the sarcastic remark. Instead, she cuddled even closer. She ran her hand down between his legs and took hold of his limp cock. She flipped it back and forth so the head slapped against his thighs. It may be sooner than you think, she mused to herself.