Chapter 7
Shelly lived the next few weeks of her life as though she were in a hypnotic trance. Many things happened that she remembered only vaguely. The funeral, talks with Tom's lawyers concerning his will, talks with Tom's father to determine what share she would receive from Wymore Enterprises and what income she would have.
Frank Wymore, Tom's father, was sympathetic, yet cool. He was understanding at times while at others, he was almost indifferent. He had no way of knowing the real reason for what Tom had done. Family affairs had never been discussed between him and his son.
After those first nightmarish weeks, Shelly confined herself almost completely to her home, going out only for a brief ride or to take care of the small errands that living made necessary.
She could have done better by Tom, she realized. Now he was gone ... gone forever. Where would she start now? How could she pick up the pieces and begin a new life? But it wasn't in Shelly to sit around home and stagnate.
A drink, perhaps? Maybe a drink would help. Yes, of course. It would lift her spirits. A drink with good company, she mused, recalling Bill Weldon's remark. A slight smile crept over her lips as she pulled her car into the parking lot of the Pirate's Den, a cocktail lounge a few blocks off the main street.
It was early afternoon and there were only three other cars in the huge parking lot. The air was warm and there was just the slightest hint of a breeze. It felt good, caressing her face as she walked briskly across the asphalt lot. It was fall and, while not all of the trees had shed their leaves, the feeling she had was as though it were spring. Leaves skittered across the pavement and there was the pungent smell of burning leaves in the air.
The sun had been so bright that when Shelly stepped into the dark interior of the Pirate's Den, she stood for a few moments trying to adjust her eyes. She had never been here before, so did not know in which direction the bar was. Then, as her eyes gradually became accustomed to the dimness, she could see the glistening glasses on the back bar and made her way carefully in that direction.
There were four customers, all men, seated at the bar, and they all studied her as she groped for one of the stools. The room smelled fresh and clean, and the deep carpet gave the feeling of luxury. It was one of the better bars in town. Shelly immediately felt that she belonged here.
Shelly ordered a Manhattan as she adjusted herself on the stool.
"Yes, ma'am," the bartender replied politely.
Shelly could feel all four of the men looking at her. She patted her hair lightly, put her purse beside her, and tilted her head back and inhaled deeply. This, she thought, is much better. No more sitting at home. No more wasting time on thoughts that were unpleasant to her. So, he's gone.
So what? Everyone has to live a life of his own and this was her type of life.
When the bartender had set her drink on the bar and returned with her change, Shelly said, "You must be Ray."
The bartender grinned broadly. "That's right. And who are you?"
"Shelly," she smiled.
"Glad to meet you, Shelly."
A cigarette lighter appeared suddenly from Ray's pocket as Shelly pulled out a cigarette. He held the light toward her.
"Thanks," she said, after she had taken her first deep drag.
"One of my many services," he grinned. He was a stout, dark man with huge brown eyes that seemed to warm up his entire face when he smiled. Black thatches of hair -rimmed his head but on top he was completely bald. He moved away, smiling.
Shelly sipped her drink. Then, when she felt its warm glow, she quickly took two or three sips. The men at the bar were seated in pairs, and the two nearest her glanced curiously and speculatively at her from time to time. Shelly did not look directly at them, but she could see them in the back bar mirror. One of the men got up and played some music on the juke box, looking hopefully toward Shelly, who made no sign of having noticed. She knew that sooner or later one of them would approach her.
When she had finished her drink, she held up her glass for the bartender to see. Ray nodded and immediately began mixing another drink.
"Take it out of here, Ray," one of the men said, throwing a dollar bill on the bar. "I'll have to ask her first," Ray said. "All right," the man said. He looked toward Shelly, a look of expectancy on his face.
Shelly studied both of the men nearest her and decided she wanted neither of them. They were both fat, gray-haired, and looked to be in their fifties-past their sexual prime.
When Ray put the drink down in front of her she had her money ready and pushed it toward him.
"The man down there would like to buy you a drink," Ray said, nodding toward the two men.
"No, thanks," Shelly said curtly. "Sorry."
Ray took her money and walked away.
By the time Shelly had finished her second drink, all of the men had gone. She felt disappointed. Only one pass out of four men. She got up from her stool and walked casually around the carpeted room. There were tables scattered throughout, and in one corner there was a small bandstand.
"Nice place," she said.
"Yeah," Ray replied. "Best place I ever worked in."
"It's big. Do you need all these tables?"
"Sure do. At night, especially on weekends, the place is packed. This is always a dead time of day. Maybe catch one or two afternoon drinkers. You new around here?"
"In here, yes. But I've lived here all my life."
"First time in here, eh?"
"Yes. I never got out much before," she said. She came back to the bar, took a sip from her drink, and rested her elbows on the bar.
"Before what?"
"Ah, before my husband...."
"Trouble, eh? What was it? Divorce?"
"N-no, he, ah, he's dead," she said softly.
"Oh, I'm sorry."
For a few moments, Shelly said nothing, only stared down at her drink.
"Well, maybe a couple of drinks will help. I know how you must feel. Sorry about that guy wanting to buy you a drink. That's why I asked you first. But the guy is all right. Just trying to be friendly, is all."
"Oh, I didn't mind. I just wasn't in the mood for talking."
"No, I don't suppose you would. Not after...."
"I'm getting over it," Shelly broke in.
"How long has it been?"
"Just about a month. Seems like yesterday, though."
"How'd it happen? Accident?"
"No, it wasn't an accident," she said softly, looking away. "It was ... well, I'd rather not say."
"Suit yourself," Ray said. He began to wipe the bar in front of her. "Tell me, what are you doing now. I mean, what are your plans and all that?"
"Oh, nothing much. Just living from day to day, trying to forget by having a little fun."
"Any plans for tonight?" he asked suddenly. "Oh, I don't mean with me. I meant, well, you're a good-looking doll, and I thought maybe if you were around tonight I could introduce you to someone. We get a lot of nice guys in here."
"I really don't know what I should do," she said. "I haven't been out for so long that maybe some nice man's company would do me some good. Yes, I believe you could introduce me to some decent fellow if you want to. But no funny stuff, if you understand what I mean."
"Yeah, I get you," Ray said. "How about if I buy you a drink?" Shelly nodded.
Ray brought her the drink, then busied himself with his other duties.
The drinks made Shelly feel warm, passionate and reckless. The soft music, the dark bar, the rich carpeting-all gave her a sensation that was delightfully and crazily luxurious. She sat quietly sipping on her drink, regarding herself in the back bar mirror, turning from side to side, admiring the beauty that nature had bestowed on her. Pleased, she smiled to herself. This, she thought, was the life for her. Housework, children, even husbands, were for the squares.
"The bartender said your name was Shelly," a voice said behind Shelly. Startled, she wheeled on her stool, and saw a smiling face. The face belonged to Brad Stanton.
Stanton was a tall, blond, angular man, even teeth, about thirty or thirty-two. Seeing her surprise, he smiled even wider. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just...."
"Where did you come from?" Shelly asked.
"I came in the side door," he said. "Ray was back there and I asked him who the doll was at the bar, meaning you, of course. He wanted to bring me over and introduce me to you, but I talked him out of it."
"Now that you're here, what do you want?" Shelly asked.
"Ray said I had his permission to buy you a drink. Do I need yours, too?"
Shelly looked at him for some moments, studying the twinkling eyes and the broad smile. She could not control her smile, and it spread over her face like a mask.
"All right," she laughed. "By the way, do you come here often?"
"Yes, I've been here a few times before," he said. "And my name is Brad ... Brad Stanton. I haven't seen you in here before."
"No, this is my first time. Nice place," Shelly said. She noticed Brad studying her intently. Inwardly, she was pleased that he had taken such a quick notice of her and her charms.
"You're a widow, I understand."
Shelly nodded. "And you?"
"Ah, well...."
"I thought so. Men like you just aren't running around loose and single. There's always a wife in the background."
"She's still upstate," he said. "I was transferred down here a couple of weeks ago, and I haven't been able to find a suitable place for us to live."
"In the meantime, you're on the loose. Right?"
"Sort of."
"Well, now that that's settled," she said, "what shall we talk about? The weather?"
"How about if we talk about you?"
"All right. My name is Shelly Wymore. I'm over twenty-one. This is my first time here and I have nothing to do for the rest of the evening. There, satisfied?"
"Wow, that was quick. I don't know what to ask you now."
"Ask me to have dinner with you," Shelly said boldly. Her eyes seemed to promise everything Brad read in, them, and she could see his hands tremble slightly as he raised his drink to his lips. He drank deeply, draining almost half the glass before he set it down and looked at her.
"All right, it's a date. How about right here? The food is very good and we won't have to drive anywhere. Okay?"
"If you say so," she shrugged. Inwardly, she was thrilled and a shiver suddenly shook her body. With a hasty motion of her arm, she put her glass down on the bar. "Tell me, does something like this make you feel a little nervous?"
"Yes, I suppose it does ... a little," he smiled.
Hours later, when they had finished their dinner, Brad suggested they go for a drive. Shelly agreed but asked to be taken home first.
Brad followed close behind, thinking that Shelly would try to lose him in traffic or somehow give him the slip. But Shelly had no such intentions. She looked through the rear view mirror regularly to make sure he was still behind her and smiled to herself when she saw his car almost clinging to her rear bumper. She drove her car straight into the open garage and Brad pulled up behind her.
"Would you like to come in a minute while I freshen up?" she asked.
"Okay," he said, half-surprised. He shut off the motor and lights and walked to her side.
Shelly smiled but the smile was more for herself than it was for Brad. Almost from the moment Brad had approached her at the bar, she knew she must have him alone that night. She now felt victory was hers and whether or not Brad wanted to take her to bed she knew he would be helpless to resist. She did not think about Tom. Now the all-consuming, burning greed for Brad's body was the only thing in her mind.
When they entered the house through the kitchen, Shelly did not turn on the light but went directly to the living room in the dark. Here she pulled off her coat, threw it across a chair, then turned on a small lamp.
"Drink?" she asked.
"Sure," he replied, smiling.
While Shelly prepared the drinks, Brad looked around the room, surveying the tastefully decorated room. "Nice," he said. "Live here alone?"
"I do now," she said simply as she brought the drinks to the coffee table.
"How did your husband die?"
"He shot himself," she replied, matter-of-fact ly.
"Accidentally?"
"No, not all. It was very deliberate."
"I-I don't know what to say."
"Don't say anything. It happened that way and that's that. Right there in that chair," she said, pointing to the large leather chair in which Tom had ended his life.
Brad looked at the chair. He looked uncomfortable.
"Now, shall we talk about something more pleasant?" she asked. "Us, for instance?"
"Yes, I think that would be better."
She looked over the edge of the glass at him. There was a little smile playing at her lips. "Would you like to sleep with me tonight?" she asked.
"Huh?"
"Stay here with me all night," she said. "Simple as that."
She moved across the couch and encircled his neck and clung to him with all her strength. She pressed her breasts against his strong body and felt a gasp escape him.
"I-I don't know what to say," he managed at last.
"You said that once before." She put her mouth on his and swiped her tongue across his lips. "I need you, Brad. I need you so much...."
Brad was only semi-receptive. Although he was a handsome man who looked like the typical playboy, it was not his habit to take just anybody to bed. In fact, his two-timing had been confined to just two affairs. Now he was uneasy. This Shelly was coming on too strong. Women like her could mean trouble.
"I don't think we should be doing this," he said when Shelly's lips left his for a moment.
"Oh, come now, darling. I know what a man wants when he picks up a woman in a bar. You look at her and you say to yourself, 'Gee, but I'd like to get her in bed.' Well, here I am."
"God, but you come on strong."
"I know," she smiled. "I don't like to waste time." The liquor was making Shelly bolder than she'd ever been in her life. Then, too, the fact that she hadn't been to bed with a man for some time was working on her passion. She ran her hand down his chest and dropped it onto the hard lump in his pants. She squeezed it. "Don't tell me you don't want to put that thing to work." It annoyed her that he hadn't put his hands on her breasts, that he hadn't propositioned her sooner.
"Of course I do," he said.
She took the tab of his zipper and pulled it down, then dug in his shorts and took his rapidly stiffening cock out. She gripped it in her hand and made the head turn red. "I want that beautiful thing," she sighed. She kissed him and ran her tongue into his mouth. When she pulled away, she said, "UNDRESS ME, DARLING."
He turned her halfway around and ran her zipper down, then pulled her dress off her shoulders. Then he undid the snap of her bra to release the beautiful orbs it held. He turned her back around and put his head on her chest, taking one nipple into his mouth to suck and nip at it briefly. His free hand pushed at the material bunched at her waist and she raised slightly so he could push it over her hips. Then he peeled her panties off, trying to keep the titty in his mouth while he did so. She squirmed and twisted to accommodate what he was doing with her clothes, until finally, she was totally naked.
"KISS MY TITTIES WHILE I UNDRESS YOU," she said. She started to unbutton his shirt while his mouth went from one nipple to the other. She peeled his shirt off, then went immediately to his pants. He raised off the couch so she could pull them off his hips. Within moments, he, too, was naked.
"Shouldn't we go to the bedroom?" he asked.
"No! No ... I want it right here. I can't wait," she panted.
"You have a beautiful body."
"Then do something with it! Kiss me! Suck my titties!"
He moved his mouth across her nipples with an easy confidence. He sucked one, then the other while her hand jerked and pulled on his cock. He bent slightly and ran his tongue down as far as her navel. He swabbed across the little indentation, then moved back to her tits. She was panting and squirming, clutching at him hungrily.
"OH, PLEASE ... PLEASE ... FUCK ME, DARLING. FUCK ME NOW!"
"SUCK ME A LITTLE FIRST," he said.
"NOT NOW. I'VE GOT TO HAVE YOUR COCK IN ME FIRST."
"JUST A LITTLE."
"OH, PLEASE ... YOU'RE DRIVING ME CRAZY."
He slid down on the couch a little and spread his legs. "Come on, baby, just suck me off a little first," he said. He put his hand around the back of her head and tugged at her.
"I-I don't want to. I want that nice cock of yours inside me ... please." She tried to get astraddle of him, but he pushed her leg back.
"Suck me first," he said. There was a firmness to his tone that made her stop writhing for a moment. He pushed at her body so that she slid off the couch. With an easy movement, he swung one leg over her head so that she was between his legs. He clamped her body between his thighs and moved his hips upward so that the head of his cock brushed her lips. "Come on, baby, you know you want to put it in your mouth. You know you do. Here, try it." He took hold of his cock and wiped the head of it across her lips.
The touch of the satiny head made her tremble. Yes, she would love to suck his cock, but why couldn't he fuck her first? God, they had all night.
She opened her mouth and touched the hot head with the tip of her tongue. She took the head between her lips, held it a little, then sunk part of the stiff shaft into her mouth. His hand clutched at her hair and pumped her head up and down. His hips moved in the same tempo, a slow fuck motion. The delight of what she was doing made him lay his head back on the couch and close his eyes.
"OH, YEAH ... THAT'S THE WAY TO DO IT, BABY. SUCK THAT COCK, SWEETHEART. SUCK IT NICE AND EASY."
"Ummmmmmm," she murmured with her mouth full of his hot, stiff prick.
She put her hands under his ass and felt his easy rhythm as his cock slid in and out of her mouth. She let it sink in until she thought she would gag. She fondled his balls with one hand while her other hand remained on the cheek of his ass. The saliva collected in her mouth and ran down his slickened shaft. She sucked furiously for a time, then suddenly took her mouth off his cock and hung over it, panting. She held the spit-silvered rod with one hand. "I-I've got to rest," she said. "My mouth is getting sore."
"I was almost ready to ... pop," he groaned.
"Oh, please don't," she said quickly. "Not in my mouth."
He sat up and put his arms around her shoulders. He reached between them and took hold of his cock. He felt for her lips and put the head of it against them. "Just a little more, baby." He twisted her lips open and tried to get his dick between them, but she resisted.
"Uh-uh," she murmured, trying to pull away.
"Yes," he said firmly.
"Just a little then," she said resignedly.
When she got his prick back in her mouth he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight against him, clamping her in a vise from which there was no escape for her. He began to move his hips again while holding her head on his cock. He could hear her snorting and slurping between his legs and he now took up most of the motion, ramming his hips upward, then back.
"COME ON, BABY ... COME ON ... JUST A LITTLE MORE AND I'M GOING TO FLOOD YOU WITH NICE, HOT JUICE," he clenched as the time for his climax drew near.
She did not try to pull away. She knew it was useless. But she was not entirely averse to sucking his cock. It was still thrilling to her, yet she felt she had lost control, and that was what bothered her more than anything. She had had men come in her mouth before so she was not revolted at the thought of having her mouth spurted full of hot slugs of jism. And when he saw that she was not resisting, he relieved some of the pressure on her so' she could move with more freedom, holding her lightly at the sides of her head as she brought him to his first blinding explosion. It came like a rushing river gone wild, the first charge splashing into her mouth with such volume that she stopped for a moment in disbelief. Then the following spurts came until her mouth could no longer hold it all and a little silver pendant streamed from the corner of her mouth. She held the head of his cock in her mouth for some time after he had completed his spasms, her nostrils flaring to draw in much-needed air.
His fingers were toying with her hair, alternately gripping and releasing. He was panting and moaning softly. There was an electric quiver to the lower part of his body.
When his fingers loosened in her hair, it was the signal for her to take her mouth off his spent prick and swallow. She had to swallow several times as the slimy liquid clung to her throat. Finally, she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and fell across his thigh. "You were really loaded," she said softly. "It must have been a long time."
"I'll give all the credit to you," he said. "You really know how to suck a cock. God, I never had a blow-job like that before."
Shelly was not abashed by his crudeness. Rather, she was proud that she had pleased him, that she had done something sexual so much better than the other women he had known. Now, if she could only do as well in the fuck-session that lay ahead, she thought. With the compliment fresh in her mind, she vowed she would go all out to try.