Chapter 13

The newspaper advertisement read: "Gentleman wanted for large pleasant room with private entrance and bath. Convenient location, reasonable rent, privileges."

It was those "privileges" that caught my eye and fired my always wild imagination with an inkling of anticipation ... that was thoroughly warranted!

There was no answer when I knocked on the front door of the cute house to inquire about the room. I knocked louder. Still no answer. Then I heard the soft strains of music; it seemed to come through from the back of the house. Probably the landlady had her ear bent to a portable radio. Maybe she was sunbathing, too.

She was ... lying on a red plastic chaise lounge beside the sparkling blue-green water of the backyard pool. She wore a blue polka-dot bikini of thin cotton. The soft skin that covered her Junoesque-fine figure was bronze-tinted. Her thick ash-blonde hair was teased high, and this luscious landlady boasted large cantaloupe-like breasts which made my mouth sweetly water.

I smiled to myself, cleared my throat, and said, "Hi there! I'm Steve Reynolds. About renting the room...."

She raised her lovely head and squinted at me. "Oh, yes!" she said, smiling. "I'm Helen Wallace." She reached to a tripod table nearby and picked up a pair of wrap-around "insect-eye" sunglasses, then gestured to a chair. "Sit down. Want a drink?"

I sat. "Fine, thanks. I am thirsty."

"So am I. The sun's really gotten to me this afternoon. What do you want?"

"Scotch on the rocks will be fine."

She poured from another tripod table within her easy reach. I watched ... unable to keep my eyes from roaming her nearly naked body, noticing her buxom, lusciously rounded hips, noting, too, and with special relish, her firm full womanly thighs which suddenly made me squirm a bit-cross my legs.

She handed me the drink then, saying, "I think you'll do just splendidly ... that is, if you like the room I have to offer."

"I'll take it sight unseen," I said flatly, "Oh ... good. Cheers!" She tipped her own stiff drink. "And call me Helen. Old-fashioned formality bugs me. Where are you from, Steve?"

"I lived in the North. Ohio. I'm a bachelor," I added.

"Well, I should hope so! And now you're,, down here. In all this glorious invigorating sunshine!"

"Yeah, it's the greatest," I grinned.

"Isn't it!" she agreed, smiling. "My husband retired down here five months ago, and has been dead three," came the abrupt good news.

"I'm sorry," I offered affected sympathy.

"Oh, you needn't be ... he isn't!" she assured me lightly. "Harve was sixty-seven and would have been the last man on earth to regret the way he died ... from a heart attack in bed with me."

"W-what a ... nice way to go to the happy hunting ground!"

"Yes, it was for him," she agreed matter-of-factly. "I was twenty-three when he married me, after his wife's timely death, and Harve had little alarm about death after our two years of particularly passionate marriage. He died with a smile on his lips. And my kisses."

"Again-how nice."

Helen moved to the edge of the lounge. "So the widow is going to stay on down here for a while ... until I get bored with my hobby."

"What's that?"

"I do water colors. Here-see for yourself what you think...."

My eyes fell on the first of the four full-colored sketches that she turned over and spread out on the table between us. It was a self-sketch of Helen with her blouse torn to show her exquisitely large and pink-pointed nipples, and she was languishing on her knees before a handsome young man who could have been a college stud-hero. His manhood was in full view, outlined in exact detail ... and her lips dripped honey!

"Whew!" I whistled. "How did you let that one get away?"

"Oh, he was my husband's nephew from California. Just came for the funeral."

"Whose?"

Helen laughed uproarishly. "Practice makes perfect!"

"I'll bet you are," I muttered.

And she asked immediately, "Would you pose for a quick sketch some time, Steve ... like right now?"

I was a little leery. "Maybe-maybe you won't want to rent me the room afterwards."

"Oh, don't be silly. I've turned down a dozen gentlemen since I placed that ad ... just waiting and praying for the likes of you!"

"Yeah, my pants are so tight that everything's perfectly obvious, huh?"

"Oh God, yes!" she breathed.

Then she seized my hand, and I felt as if I were being hurled through the air toward the house, and then we were in her "studio" which was obviously an extra bedroom. Helen reached for her easel ... and I grabbed her.

Her lips went eagerly to meet mine, and she put her arm around my neck to hold me there in the first excitement of the kiss. And then my own arms went hard around her, pulling her tight to me. My mouth burned down into hers, and my tongue was hard and thrusting between her opened lips. We stood swaying together, and I knew how deep the kiss was going into her, for I could feel the tightening of her breasts against me, the rising nipples, and she pressed her thighs against mine. My fingers hooked into the elastic of her flimsy bikini bra, and pulled it off in one sweep of my arm, and then ... she struggled free!

"Hey," I complained. "Come back here!"

"Down, down, eager-beaver," she said. "I can never sketch afterwards."

"But I don't want to just pose!"

"You promised," she said accusingly.

"Did I? I must have had a mad moment...."

"Ah no, you don't squirm out of anything ... except your clothes."

"Well ... okay, notorious landlady," I grinned. "But I always warn all teasers ... the pressure builds up-and up!"

"Goody," she smiled. "I like the thrill of an erupting volcano."

"The exact term to apply," I nodded down to my shorts, and then I tugged them off.

"W-why ... that's obscene!" Helen shrieked ... with delight. "I'll sketch you in in pencil first. Why don't you just ... well, I don't know ... anything at all," she gaped, her eyes as big as sparkling saucers.

"Anything?" I questioned. "Don't give me un-artistic ideas!"

"Hold it ... just one second," she gave in, dropping her easel but picking up a painter's brush. "As soon as I fill this brush with purple tempra ... I'll paint you!"

"What?!" I shouted. "You mean ... literally ...?"

"Why not?" she guffawed, giggling. "We'll both get a tremendous kick out of it ... I assure you, Steve. It's wild!"

"I suppose so ... I...." And then, before I could register anything more to say in curious bafflement, Helen was upon me ... with her loaded paint brush. Swish! Swish ... she drew circles around my flat hard nipples, then slap! she swished the paint brush into my belly button.

The effect was electrifying! Little whinnies of wild desire and pleasure ebbed up from my spastic stomach as she absolutely ground the brush around and round in continuous circular motions of relentless, adamant prodding that wetly seemed to tickle me deliriously clear down to my twitching toes. It was ecstasy, and the whining little moans swelled to cries when she offered the brush some other places and the paint dribbled delectably down my jerking legs.

Helen giggled gorgeously. My eyes were nearly glazed over, almost sightless, but my strong hands were still alive and able to wrench the bottom of the bikini from her and reveal her naked flesh. Her breath sharply quickened as my strong fingers kneaded the voluptuous flesh of her behind, and she shimmied and whimpered and dug her fingers into my back. Her hips began small regular movements.

And she begged, "Do it! I want to feel you...!"

I panted in her ear, "Take it easy. There's a long way to go yet."

Then I began to suck on her peach pit-like nipples. That felt so good ... and my fingers delved downward, parting her inner thighs wide, and I probed slowly, tenderly, until her breath sucked in as she felt the first faint stirrings of satisfaction seeking its vibrant way up. Then I stopped, and again I gave her no choice. I drew her to me, enfolded her, and there was nothing she could do about it until I was ready. I tormented her with my hands and lips, drawing her to me then pushing her away, only to draw her close again more furiously than before.

"Please, please...!" she begged hoarsely.

And each time I whispered, "A little longer ... a minute more."

"No ... no ... I beg you ... please! I can't stand it!"

This was good. This was damn good. This, perhaps, was what I wanted, needed-to hear a woman beg, to see a woman supplicant ... the way Shirley refused to yield to me! So I settled on the threshold of the warmest of all transient homes, feeling Helen's body sway in resigned acquiescence.

Then, suddenly, a shudder communicated with my senses, abruptly followed by a lurch and a tremor, and I had to surrender myself to her passion as hungry hips thrusted and rolled, reaching out for me, punching out a frantic rhythm beat. The devouring softness, the feel of needing arms and legs, the gurgles of exotic joy, all of this together spelled out a magnificent magic that overwhelmed me all at once.

"What are you doing to me?" she gasped into my ear harshly. "Tell me, you hunk! Tell me what you are doing!"

I told her ... and she echoed a low throaty chant of her favorite bedroom words. I named everything with all the common terms. Louder, louder, louder she repeated them until it was a frenzy, a madness, and she was screaming the words in a high soprano that I was sure could be heard for a block. But I was beyond caring ... virtually senseless ... and I reached my peak with a roar that drowned out her shrieks!

After a while, I rolled away to lay at her side on the floor. "Did you know how loud you sang out?" I grinned impishly.

"Oh ... I do it every time," she smiled. "And you rather got carried away yourself."

"I'm sorry ... if the neighbors...."

"Oh, they don't seem to mind. Never any complaints, at least ... from two old maids on one side, and a swish-faggot bachelor on the other!"

"Invite them to high tea," I chuckled.

"You scared me to death for a few moments, you know that, Steve?" Helen asked suddenly.

"Whatever scared great big luscious you?"

"No, I'm serious about ... those welts on your butt, Steve. They gave me the obvious wrong impression of you, at first."

"It was one hell of a party," I shrugged.

"It must have been!" Her tone was full of curiosity. "Want to tell me all about it?"

"Nope. I'd better not ... get myself all worked up again."

"Well ... I'm not just nibby," she assured me.

"But you want to play mother hen, don't you?"

"Not to pry into your personal business, Steve. It just seems to me ... maybe you need a soft shoulder to cry on. And here's mine!"

"T-thanks." I was being tempted.

"Level with me, Steve. You know it's no damn good to keep everything bottled up tight inside."

"And strangers know best?"

"Yes! Sometimes they really do," Helen said firmly. "Because a stranger, like me, can be pretty cold-fish objective about your problems ... if they really are such problems!"

"Oh are they! Okay ... I'll shoot the whole works," I decided. For one thing, I did want to get everything off my chest to someone, and for another thing I had a sudden, peculiar kind of inkling that Helen just might provide the "missing link" of common sense about my problems that I was too overwrought to see if a solution was, maybe, right in front of my nose. So I spilled the whole bag of beans ... rehashing everything from Barbara on.

"Good God, Steve!" the words came low and throaty. "You've really balled it!"

"Yep." I drew a long discouraged breath. "It's a mess, isn't it?"

"Yes, a mess. But ... don't blame Shirley for lying in her bed! You made your own, too!"

"Oh hell, don't start that bit ... what's good for the goose is good for the gander. I've heard that before-from Shirley!"

"Well, I don't doubt it!" Helen exclaimed. "She has every right, you know ... to be too pure is to be selfish-mostly to yourself! I mean, we can't hide our lusts, Steve, or they burn our insides like cancer."

"But sexuality just goes on and on," I reasoned. "There must be a thousand and one ways ... a never-ending stream of experience that can be had. And that doesn't leave much room for anything else!"

"Like love and marriage?" Helen questioned.

"Exactly!"

"Level with yourself, Steve. Are you really ready to settle down to all sorts of responsibilities that love imposes?"

"Hell yes! In fact, I'm ready to punch a time clock and put in a nine-to-five day on a conventional job."

"All for love!"

"Don't be bitchy sarcastic," I warned her. "I knew you wouldn't understand...."

"Oh, I understand you perfectly!" Helen assured me. "Your trouble is ... you are a hotheaded bastard, Steve!"

"W-what?" I nearly shouted.

"I hate a righteous sinner who rushes in where fools fear to tread," she explained calmly. "And you have botched up most things all by your crazy self ... by being a stupid catalyst!"

"I'll be damned." I studied her, my eyes weary. "Okay, I opened the book of sin for Shirley by humping Carol right in front of her," I said in a dull voice. "And I guess I really screwed things up by biting Teddy's...."

"You certainly did!" she agreed almost passionately. "Now Teddy will really use Shirley to pay you back ... and you can't show your face to him."

"What are you saying? I can't skip town!"

Helen shrugged. "I'm afraid that's the logical solution."

"You are no help!"

"I didn't say that's what I would suggest."

I perked up my ears. "Okay, spell it out in plain English, will you?"

Helen smoked, and for a long while she didn't say a word. Then she drew a long, deep breath.

"Stop the fun and games, Steve. Your silly retaliations show what you properly are, don't they? I mean, you are guilty of assuming a false image, of living a fairy-tale role. What a fool you have been! What a dishonest fool! You sliced away your true nature-denied its very existence and performed merely as a stud in a convenient mental void ... until Shirley reduced you to stark reality that you still refused to face. And so you dragged her right into the nightmare with you; you made her join the fun and games because-because that life is rather devoid of hum-drum responsibilities, and as long as she's the phony whore you can keep on being the wanton stud ... which is the easiest path to follow!"

I blinked flabbergasted. "Are you saying, in so many words, that I encourage all this evil just because I'm a weak sister?"

"Everybody wants life to be beautifully easy," Helen said gently. "And you have conditioned yourself to that fantasy for one hell of a long time, Steve. But you can't have your cake and eat it, too!"

"Suddenly, this-this is like trying to watch a double feature of my life on a single screen!" I cried out.

"You are confused, and it's no wonder...."

"No, no, I think I understand now," I insisted. "I've always been quite ordinary, deep down inside ... and my sexuality has only been a little boy crutch to let me behave irresponsibly, like a male Auntie Mame!"

"That's the ticket."

"But Helen...!"

"What?"

"H-how in the world do I correct this mess I've made?"

"Why ... I suggest cave-man tactics!" she chuckled.

"Huh?"

"Toss Shirley over your shoulder and beat it out of town!"

"Y-you must be kidding," I stammered. "Remember the blackmail bit! Teddy still has those pictures of Shirley ... and he would mail them in a flash!"

She clucked for a moment. "Haven't you discovered Teddy's ... Achilles heel?"

"N-no. W-what is it?"

"Oh, Steve ... now I'll level with you. You see, I don't always like to be honest with myself either. And that is because I really did love my husband-and because-because this terrible Teddy done me wrong too!" she blurted.

I could have been knocked over by a feather. "Y-you know him?"

"Like a bad book, I'm sorry to say. Harve and I rented an ocean-front cabana at the Breakers Hotel last season-and Teddy attached himself to us like a leech because Harve always waved a wad of big bills around ... not to show off; it was just my husband's flashy way to...." She stopped. "Y-yes? Go on!"

"This is sort of tearing me apart, you know that?" she asked abruptly but didn't hesitate. "Anyhow, Teddy wormed his way into Harve's affections because he catered to my husband like the son he never had ... and Teddy got some 'secrets' out of him."

"Then Teddy posed for you in the nude," I guessed.

Helen flushed. "One session-but I never touched his body! Harve flew back North to tie up the final strings on the sale of his business, and Teddy just appeared here at the house to pester me for a nude water-color to give his girlfriend. So I gave in...."

"And he blackmailed you with the sketch," I finished the obvious for her.

"Oh God, did he!" Helen cried bitterly. "For money and-and occasional sex, in the pool boys' private cabana while Harve was in swimming in the ocean. What else could I do? My God! Human beings are stupid bitches and bastards, sometimes. But the worm always turns!"

I furrowed my brow. "I guess I don't understand...."

"As I said, Teddy has an Achilles heel ... and you are the catalyst for his undoing, Steve! Together, you and I are going to pin him to the old rugged cross!"

"You've left me completely in the dark," I said frankly.

"Oh, but not for long!" Helen cried joyously. "Now let's get dressed and go through with my plans right now."

"Eureka!" I fairly cheered. "You are like manna from Heaven for me, Helen. How about dressing up in a tux and being best man at my wedding?"

Helen smiled broadly. "Huh-uh. But I will give you the bachelor party!"

"And some party that would be!"

"You'd better believe it," she laughed. "You'd never make it to the church on time ... without adrenalin!"