Chapter 6
It was nearly two in the morning when Donna's plane set down at Cleveland-Hopkins International. She took the rapid-transit train out to the Windermere station and then hailed a cab to take her to the Sutter Street address where her father now lived. The cab driver turned out to be an old and at one time intimate friend of the golden-one. His name was Lon McCall and he and Donna had gone to high school together. In fact, it was Lon who had finally convinced the honey-blonde to, as they said, "go all the way" ... picking her cherry some three weeks after her sixteenth birthday.
They recognized one another immediately.
He was such a virile-looking man, even more attractive than Donna remembered him ... and in less time than it takes to tell the juices down within her vagina began to flow, the muscles there quivering in happy anticipation. He was tall and muscular, built like a lumberjack, with carrot-colored hair that was stylishly long ... and even with the full, rather shaggy sort of mustache that now adorned his face he still reminded the golden-one of the All-American male, all freckled and vigorous and-well, clean. His eyes were large and green, reflecting a sort of boyish honesty that seemed to dominate his square, rather open sort of face. His nose was a bit pugged and the length of his hair now hid the fact that his ears were too big for the rest of his head, but his lips were full and moist and there was something about his huge, jutting sort of chin that the honey-blonde found extremely sensuous ... perhaps it was the deep cleft right in the middle of it.
"So, how long are you home for?" Lon said, as he eased the cab out onto Euclid Avenue.
"About a week," Donna replied.
"Any chance you might be able to spare a few hours some evening for an old beau?"
"Oh, I ... I might be able to work something out," the honey-blonde said, a slight tremor creeping into the tone of her voice. "Just what did you have in mind?"
"Oh ... just a movie and a bite to eat afterwards," Lon said. "You know ... just to talk about the old days. You aren't married or anything?"
"No." Donna replied. "Not even or anything...."
"The thing is, I ... well, I'm on a pretty tight schedule. I'm taking classes at state during the day, pushing this hack at night. Like tomorrow is really the only night I have open and ... well, I'm sure you already have other plans. I could maybe try to switch days off with one of the other guys but...."
"No need for that," Donna said. "It just so happens that I'm free tomorrow evening."
"Great," Lon said. "How about if I pick you up at-say, seven-thirty?"
"I'll be ready...."
Lon turned the cab north on Sutter Street and for the first time Donna took note of the dinginess of the neighborhood, of the quiet sense of despair and poverty that even the darkness of the hour was unable to conceal.
"Wow," she said. "I wasn't quite prepared for anything like this. It's ... really something, isn't it? I ... I'm going to have to do something about getting my father out of here."
"There are worse neighborhoods," Lon said. "You ought to see where I'm living. Nothing but junkies and hippies and dopers of every shade and stripe. Really, it's horrible-like finding yourself in some sort of bazooco nightmare you can't wake up from. My crib has been broken into and ripped off six times in the past two months. Fifteen-year-old kids are forever o.d.ing and ... about the only good thing that can be said about the place is that the rent is super-cheap. Sutter Street is a dream compared to my neighborhood."
"I guess you kind of forget what this town is like after you've been away for a time," Donna said. "It's ... well, it's like some old woman, riddled with disease and waiting for death."
"Oh, wow ... hey, it ain't all that bad," Lon said and tried to laugh. "I mean, the South side is still pretty nice in spots, around Goosetown and those places ... and once you get past Twenty-fifth Street on the West Side, things aren't so bad. Besides, what other city has a great river that periodically catches on fire?"
"None that I can think of," Donna said.
"Hey, homecomings are supposed to be happy sorts of affairs," Lon said. "Besides, you're only going to be here for a week. It's not as if you had to live here...."
"But my father does...."
Donna's head felt as if it were spinning ... and it was at that precise moment that she made a decision about a question that had been plaguing her ever since that night at the Ginsbergs' home, the night she had earned enough money to keep her at Cutter for her final semester.
She decided that she would remain as one of the girls in Valarie's stable, at least while she was still at Cutter. It was the only way she could get her father away from Sutter Street, away from all the pain and ugliness and deprivation that such places represented. She felt certain that she could find him a really nice little apartment out in the suburbs somewhere. Even if the rent were three hundred dollars a month ... well, she could earn that much and more on a weekend, and maybe that way she could repay at least a part of all that he had done for her. Besides, she said to herself, I'm really beginning to enjoy the variety of sexual experiences that working for Val opens for me and....
The words of her own thoughts hit her like a clap of thunder. Had she actually said them? Yes ... yes, she had said them, and what had happened to all her fine and noble-sounding words about sex being an expression of love?
Sweet mother of mercy....
She could almost hear Valarie, Sex needs no justification. It's a natural happenstance ... like breathing, and it needs no moral or philosophical underpinnings. It just is, that's all ... and those people who feel the need to wrap up the fact in pretty packages are merely frightened little worms, afraid to admit the reality of the sexual drive in human beings.
"Free love ... free love ... free love...."
"Oh, God," Donna said aloud
"What's that?" Lon said.
"Oh, nothing ... nothing," Donna said, embarrassed by her words. "I was just thinking out loud, I guess. This street, Cleveland ... my father...."
."Yeah; and here's the address you gave me," Lon said with a sigh as he eased the cab to the curb. "By the way, what apartment is your father in?"
"Ah ... one-oh-seven...."
"Hey, maybe I'd better walk you to the door!"
"Would you mind, Lon?" Donna said. "This place ... wow, it really has me freaked out."
"I can tell...."
He kissed her good night at the entrance to the building, a warm and tender sort of thing ... and suddenly a whole series of old and cherished memories began to flood their way through Donna's brain. She and Lon had such a wonderful relationship, filled with love and understanding and concern for one another ... as well as sexual fulfillment. Would the sexual thing have been so ... so good if it hadn't been for all the other aspects of their romance? Would it? Would it?
"Seven-thirty?" Lon said. "Apartment one-oh-seven?"
"I'll be ready...."
She watched as the cab moved slowly up the street, and then she turned and entered the ancient building, wrinkling her nose at the aroma which assaulted her, an aroma that was mostly bug-spray, partly urine stench, partly decaying-wood-and-mildewing-wallpaper, and partly something she was unable to identify ... an aroma she suspected might be unique to the inner city of Cleveland, Ohio, something awesome and more than a little frightening. She had to fight the urge to turn and run as she made her way slowly down the long, dimly lighted hallway to the door of apartment one-oh-seven. She rapped gently at the door, paused for a moment and then rapped again, a bit harder this time ... and then she heard a stirring within the apartment, the sound of someone coughing and wheezing.
"What do you want?" demanded a harsh, sleepy voice.
"Daddy, it's me ... Donna!"
"Oh, baby ... wait," her father said, and then there was the sound of locks being opened-three of them. "What time is it, anyway? I thought you were coming in tomorrow, in the afternoon. What...?" But then the door opened and the honey blonde fell into her father's waiting arms ... and neither of them were able to hold back the tears of joy they felt. "It's so good to have you home, Donna ... are you hungry, baby?"
Donna managed to shake her head as she followed her father into the room that served as kitchen, dining room and living room, all in an area about ten feet by twelve feet. She sat down at the table and watched as her father put a kettle of water on the stove for tea. Having tea was an old and honored ritual with them, going back as far as Donna was able to remember. They sat and drank tea and talked ... talked until nearly six in the morning. Donna even found the courage to broach the subject of moving her father to an apartment in the suburbs, but-of course, the old man wouldn't hear of it.
"I'm fine right here," he said.
"Yeah, with three locks on the door...."
"They were there when I moved in, sweetheart. Look, after you're out of school and secure in a good teaching position ... well, maybe then we can talk about moving."
"I'm too tired to argue with you tonight ... this morning, I mean," Donna said, "but don't think you've heard the last of this from me ... and I'm not kidding, Daddy. I mean what I say!"
"So do I, young lady ... and I wish you'd stop treating me like a six-year-old."
"Then quit acting like one...."
"Let's go to bed, huh?" the old man said with a smile.
"At least that's something we can agree on," Donna said, and yawned. "Where do you want me?"
The apartment had only one bedroom and Donna's father insisted that she take the bed in there while he stretched out on the sofa in the all-purpose front room. The golden-one knew that it was pointless to argue with him.
Donna lay in the center of the huge double bed, unable to drop off to sleep. The image of Lon McCall kept creeping into her mind ... and with the image came a rebirth of the twitching sensation down within her vagina. It grew wilder and wilder, more insisting, and finally she felt she had no choice but to allow her right hand to slide easily down her body to that wet and gooey cavern that lay hot and pulsing there in between her legs.
"Oh, Lon ... Lon...." she moaned.
She allowed the tip of her middle finger to work its way down under the heavy folds of flesh there at the top of the entrance to her vagina until it finally made contact with the little, pink button of hard and quivering need that was her clitoris. As she rubbed and stroked and played with that tiny mountain of hard and screaming flesh the image of Lon McCall became real ... and magically she was transported back in time, back to that day some three weeks after her sixteenth birthday when she and Lon were at the drive-in movie and....
"Oh, God, Donna," Lon said, unable to hold back the tears that had welled up in his eyes. "I ... I'm in such pain. Really, it ... it's like all the fires of hell are burning in my gut or something."
"I know ... oh, how I know, Lon," Donna said in a soft whisper of a voice. "Oh, lover, I ... I...."
"Geez, you must know how much I love you, baby!"
"And I love you, too, Lon...."
"But you're not willing to prove it," Lon said. "That really makes a lot of sense. Boy...."
"It's not that I don't want to, baby," Donna said, miserably. "Really, Lon. I mean, I'm so wet down there ... and it hurts me, too, but ... oh, I don't know; I guess I'm just scared, honey...."
"Scared of what?" Lon demanded.
"I ... I really don't know!"
"Geez...."
"I ... I could maybe play with it for you."
"Hey, broad ... I'm talking about love," Lon snapped. "Love ... you dig; not some cheap make-out session. Geez, I ... aw, Donna, I need you so much."
"Oh, Lon...."
"I've got a rubber," Lon said, "so you ain't going to get pregnant. Please, Donna ... please, please ... let me love you. Let me really love you in the way it was meant for a man to love a woman!"
"I ... I ... oh, Lon...."
"Please, Donna ... please, please...."
Donna never did say yes ... indeed, she never said anything at all, but she did stop struggling, and that was all the signal Lon needed.
He lifted her skirt up around her waist, breathing heavily and unable to control the tremor in his hands ... and then he began to tug away at the elastic at the top of her panties, struggling and groaning and sighing in frustration until at last the honey-blonde raised her hips a bit and he was able to work that piece of silky material down over her buttocks ... and down, down, pausing for a moment at her knees to inspect his handiwork, and then down, down to her ankles, and then over her feet. He held his trophy out in front of his face, a symbol of his new found sense of virility ... and then tossed it casually onto the front seat of the car. His whole body seemed to shiver with the most fevered sort of anticipation ... and even in the darkness the golden-one was able to see the fires blazing in his eyes.
"Oh ... oh, Donna," he groaned. "If you only knew how long I've waited for this moment."
"Please ... be gentle," Donna cried.
"I will ... oh, I ... I will."
His manhood bulging against the front of his denims thumping away crazily like a bomb that was about to explode, Lon lowered himself easily into the saddle and began to grind his groin up against the soft and meaty mound of flesh which stood sentinel over the golden-one's pelvis. His lips found hers and he drove his tongue deeply into her mouth ... and the honey-blonde began to tremble as she felt him ease his hand up under her sweater, inching along at a snail pace, and then the tips of his fingers settled down on the material of her bra and Donna began to cry out in rapturous joy as the nipple there sprang to life, swelling until it was as hard as steel and pulsing wildly with need.
"Oh, Donna...."
"Yes, lover ... yes...."
Somehow, she managed to work one of her hands around to her back so that she could unfasten the catch on her bra ... and Lon squealed with delight as he felt those huge, wonderfully proud, pear-shaped mountains of quivering flesh suddenly surge forward, free of their restraint, and then he quickly worked his hand up and under that bit of material and cupped his fingers over her nipple.
"Squeeze them, lover," Donna cried.
Lon began to roll the tad of hard and rippling flesh between his thumb and middle finger ... more than a little amazed at the surging sense of desire he found there, and after a while he rolled her sweater up over her breasts, pushed aside her bra and stared down at what he felt certain was the most beautiful work of art ever produced by man.
"Oh, Donna ... Donna...."
"Kiss them, Lon. Kiss my breasts ... take the nipples up into your mouth and suck on them."
The redheaded boy lowered his face against her breasts and planted a hesitant little kiss on each of her hard and angry little mountain peaks ... and then his tongue shot out of his mouth and he began to flick the tip of it against the crown of her nipples, first the right and then the left, moving back and forth, again and again and again, and all the while the deep and throaty sort of moan that came from the golden-one's lips grew louder and louder, more and more insistent. Lon began to lick and kiss and nibble his way down to her belly, pausing every few inches or so to draw a patch of her golden skin up into his mouth so that he could suck on it ... and Donna reached out and cupped her hands around his head as her lips began to roll gently from side-to-side in undulation.
"Is ... is it all right if I kiss it?" Lon said.
"Oh, yes, lover," Donna cried. "I ... I want you to kiss it. To stick your tongue down in there and ... and ... oh, Lon, lick it. Move your tongue all around down in there and ... and ... oh, baby ... lover."
"I ... I've never done it before," Lon said. "What are you scared of?"
"I ... I don't know, Donna."
"Please, Lon ... kiss it!"
"I don't want you to think I'm queer or something!"
"Oh, lover ... I won't," Donna cried, and tightened her grip on his head. "Really ... there's nothing queer about oral sex between a man and a woman. Honestly, I read it in this book about sex by a doctor."
"I ... I really want to do it."
"Then do it, Lon," Donna said.
"I don't think that I can...."
"Then let's just call this whole thing off," Donna said, unable to hide the anger she felt. "I mean, love is supposed to be something you share ... and if all you're interested in is a hole where you can dump your seed ... well, then you'd better find yourself another girl."
"I ... I'll do it...."
"Oh, sure ... sure, I do...."
"You understand, don't you, Lon?"
She guided his head down to her pelvic area and then she felt his warm and soft lips begin to move against the lips of her vulva, kissing them ... and then she felt the tip of his hard and moist tongue flick its way out of his mouth and begin to trace hot little circular paths up and down, up and down the length of that tortured mass of quivering flesh. She could feel the hot and syrupy goo from her vagina begin to seep its way out to the surface, mingling with the saliva from his mouth ... and then the tip of his tongue began to ease its way gently down inside that twisting and trembling mass of gooey flesh that was her bubbling witch's cauldron, and the honey-blonde began to shake and to cry out in the wildest sort of joy.
Suddenly, quite by accident, his invader made contact with her clitoris ... and the redhead immediately pulled his head back, confused and more than a little frightened by the way it seemed to leap out at him, like some sort of hungry jungle animal, like ... well, like a miniature penis.
Donna sensed his fear and she tightened her grip on his head, assuring him that everything was all right ... and then she began to thrust her vagina against his hot and wonderfully moist mouth, straining every muscle in her body in the most violent sort of effort-in an effort to get her little pink button of hot, pulsing flesh in contact with the beautiful pain that was his lips and tongue.
Lon began to relax a bit and after a while he stopped fighting her ... and then he drew that angry little morsel up into his mouth and began to roll the tip of his tongue hesitantly over the top of it, amazed and more than a little pleased with the awesome sense of fulfillment he seemed to be producing in Donna.
"Oh, Lon ... Lon, that's so good, lover," she cried. "So very, very good...."
The pressure of Donna's hands on his head grew so fierce that he was actually afraid that she might snap something in his neck, and then she began to wiggle about insanely on her buttocks, trembling like a volcano that was about to erupt, as her hips rolled wildly from side to side and she continued to thrust her pelvis higher and higher ... and all the time she seemed to be trying to force more, ever-more of that hot and jerking little thing up against his mouth. He locked his lips around the base of her clitoris, sucking it up as deeply into his mouth as it would go ... and then he really began to swirl his tongue across that tiny little cone, moving faster and faster until at last that hard and moist invader was flying like a vibrator and Donna was crying out at the top of her voice, screaming and groaning and shouting that she was there-right there, at that grand and glorious moment of ultimate truth.
"I ... I'm going to make it, lover," she cried. "Oh, Lon, I ... I'm really going to make it. Really, I ... oh ... oh, Lon ... lover ... I'm ... I'm cumming. I'm really cumming. I'm cumminggggggggggg...."
It was the longest time before Donna released her grip on Lon's head ... and then he sat upward, took a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his mouth. His lips felt raw and sore, as if they were puffed up to about twice their normal size.
"Is ... is it okay now?" he said.
"Is what okay?" Donna said, dreamily.
"Is it okay if ... if I park it now?"
"Oh, yes ... yes," Donna said. "I want it ... really, Lon. Oh, I want to feel you inside me, lover ... feel your penis moving hotly inside my vagina."
Lon began to groan ... and Donna watched in fascination as Lon zipped down the fly on his denims and freed his tortured manhood. It looked as big as a baseball bat to the honey-blonde and the way it bounced and bobbed and danced in the wildest sort of way sent shivers of anticipation surging through her body.
The redhead dug a package about the size of a matchbook from his shirt pocket and unwrapped it ... and Donna very nearly giggled as he took the gray-colored prophylactic in his hand and began to roll it over the head of his hard and angry penis. It looked to her for all the world like a miniature robber with his face hidden beneath a nylon stocking ... and then the redheaded youth began to lean forward and suddenly the honey-blonde felt afraid. She had to fight the urge to shove him away ... and she kept reminding herself to relax, to let it happen. Lon's lips found hers and his kiss was so warm and gentle, so wonderfully tender that it began to sweep away her fear ... and then she felt the head of his manhood, inches below its target, pressing up against the trembling flesh of her inner thighs, first the right and then the left.
"You're too low," she said.
"Help me, Donna, help me," Lon pleaded. "Oh, God, I ... please ... please, Donna, help me."
"How...?"
"Lead it in...."
"Oh, I ... well, all right," she said and sent one of her hands down between the crush of their bodies. "Hurry, Donna...."
She curled her fingers around the shank of his penis, enjoying the feel of it for a long, long moment
... and then she began to guide the head of that hunk of hard and angry meat to its target. It touched the lips of her vulva and once again she felt herself tightening up ... and it took every drop of control at her command to relax the muscles there so that Lon could ease his convulsing tool down into the hot and dripping world of her cauldron. There was a moment of pain, brief and fleeting pain that soon gave way to the most delicious sort of sensation she had ever in her life experienced ... and then he began to slide that thing in and out, in and out, moving slowly, mindful of his promise to respond to his pumping action, moving her hips from side-to-side in undulation ... and then she began to thrust her pelvis upward to meet the downward stroke of his manhood. "Oh, Donna...."
"Yes, lover ... yes...."
The muscles within her vagina began to tighten around the shank of his invader, caressing it ... and Lon began to cry out so loudly that Donna was afraid that everyone in the drive-in would hear him. She was crying out, too, however, and after a while she was so lost in the magic of the moment that she felt beyond such mundane things as worrying about who might hear them. She felt as if she were sailing out in space somewhere, lost in a timeless world that was only big enough for she and Lon and the great love they shared.
"I love you, Lon," she cried.
"Oh ... and I love you, Donna. Oh ... it's better than anything I ever imagined. It's ... it's so close, Donna ... so close, and I don't want it to end. Not yet, yet, not ... not yet. Oh, Donna ... I ... I can't hold it back any longer. I'm going to cum, baby. I ... oh, I'm cumming. I'm cumming. I'm cumming...."
Lon's whole body began to convulse. He buried his penis as deeply into Donna's vagina as it would go ... and the muscles within that screaming cauldron seemed to curl themselves around that hunk of agonized meat, milking every last drop of love-juice his body had to offer at that moment. His body suddenly went limp and then he began to sob ... and the honey-blonde held him tightly in her arms, rocking him gently back and forth until his breathing became regular. He pushed himself away from her and then sat down on the seat, slowly shaking his head from side-to-side ... as if he were unable to believe that he was no longer a virgin.
"Let's get married," he said.
"What...?"
"I think we ought to get married."
"You mean ... like now?"
"Right now...."
"Lon, that's crazy," Donna said. "We're only freshmen in high school."
"We could take off ... we're old enough to be legally married in some of those Southern states," Lon said. "West Virginia or Tennessee or something."
"But why?"
"We love each other, don't we?"
"Of course, Lon, but...."
"Donna, listen...."
"Yes...."
"The ... the damn rubber broke," he said, and once again began to sob. Oh, wow ... geez, I'm so sorry, Donna ... really, I am. I never used one before and I ... it broke. We've got to get married."
"But we don't even know if I'm pregnant or not. Can't we wait to see whether or not I have my next period?"
"I ... I don't know," Lon said, and slipped the spent and ragged prophylactic from his penis. He looked at it for the longest time ... and then he rolled down the window and threw the gooey mess out onto the ground.
"That's bright," Donna said, unable to hide the anger she felt ripping away at her body.
"Oh, wow ... I guess I just wasn't thinking, Donna," he said. "Really, I ... I don't think anyone could have seen what it was anyway."
"Yeah," she said with a sigh, "I guess I did overreact a bit."
"It was wonderful, wasn't it?"
"Beautiful. . , ."
The climax Donna received through masturbation was usually a pretty pale sort of a thing, but for some reason-perhaps it was the result of her reverie about Lon-this time turned out to be a great and awesome exception to the rule. It seemed to take birth in the very tips of her toes, a wild and sprawling sort of orgasm that seemed to reach monumental proportions by the time it came thundering up out of her convulsing vagina. It seemed to take forever to work its way completely from her body ... but after that it took her all of ten seconds to fall soundly and deeply asleep.
She dreamt of Lon ... of Valarie and Bob, and of the Ginsbergs ... and all of them were together on the huge water bed at the Ginsbergs' home. It was such a beautiful sort of thing, all the people she loved together in the same place at the same time ... all of them proudly naked, fearless in their expression of love.
"I love you all," Donna said.
Suddenly, the fat man appeared in the room ... and he was holding a gun as big as a cannon in his hand. He aimed it at Donna, laughing like a madman, and then began to pull the trigger. The explosion sent the honey-blonde flying out into space. It was bitter cold out there and her skin began to burn blue ... and then it began to peel and fall away in huge sheets. A flock of horrible green scavenger birds began to eat the airborne sheets of flesh and Donna knew somehow that the birds were really another manifestation of the fat man ... and she knew, too, that she was condemned to soar about for the rest of eternity in that cruel and dark and icy place. It was her punishment for ... for what?
"What have I done?" she cried.
But only the screams of the scavenger birds seemed to answer her ... and then far off in the distance, she saw a bright light, a golden, shimmering ball of light. The ball seemed to warm her ... and after a while her flesh stopped peeling away.
"Donna," called a gentle voice. "Donna, Donna.
"Help me, help me...."
"C'mon, Donna," said the voice. "It's time...."
"Time for what?"
"To get up, sweetheart...."
Donna felt something touch her shoulder, something that seemed to radiate love ... and then her eyes popped open and she found herself staring up into the smiling face of her father. He bent his head down and kissed her on the forehead and then on the tip of her nose.
"It's nearly noon," he said. "You slept half the day away already."
"Is that coffee I smell perking?" Donna said.
"It is ... and how would you like your eggs?"
"Daddy, I'm a big girl," Donna said. "You don't have to fix breakfast for me."
"But I want to...."
"Over easy," Donna said, and shrugged. "It's so good to be home, Daddy. So very, very good...."
"Even in this roach-infested dump?"
"Any place where you are couldn't be a dump, Daddy."
"Well, I ... c'mon, get your tail in gear," her father said, and began to walk toward the door.
"Those eggs will be on the table in ten minutes, young lady, and you'd better be there to meet them."
"I love you, Daddy...."
"Me, too, kid," the old man said, and then quickly left the room ... afraid that his daughter might see the tears he knew were welling up in his eyes.
As she showered, Donna tried to make some sense out of the weird dream she had had. It was all tied up with the confusion she felt about her sexual activity ... that much she felt certain of, but the symbolism was all so bizarre that it really didn't seem to make a lot of sense. Oh, sure, there were some pretty obvious things, too ... like the fact that Bill, the fat man, was someone she had gone to bed with and ended up not loving and it seemed only right and just that he should be the one to do her in. But there seemed to be something more there, something buried deep within the symbol-some sort of answer to the confusion she felt concerning sex. But what? What could it be? And what did that crazy thing about being out in space mean? What a freaky sort of fantasy! And those ugly birds ... could they be a sort of graphic representation of her feeling that if she gave her body to many more people like the fat man that she might die? That her soul would die? That made a sort of left-handed sense, she decided. Sure. Actually, she had been pretty damn lucky in her career as a call girl-nearly all of her partners had been the sort of people she might have gone to bed with in a love situation ... and the money was really so much extra icing on the cake. It stood to reason that she would more than likely run into a lot of other people like the fat man or like the basketball hero who had forced her to go down on him while she was still in high school. Oh, maybe they wouldn't be quite that screwed-up and violent ... but they would be people she would be unable to relate to as love objects, people who would be using her body merely for the release of their sexual tension. But was there really anything wrong with that? It all came down to that-the ten-million-dollar questionsex as an expression of love, or sex for the sake of sex? If only there were some sort of middle ground, some way to allow for both positions.
"Donna...."
"In a minute, Daddy!"
"I'm about to put your eggs on the table!"
"Be right there...."
There seemed to be a lot of color in her father's face and she couldn't help but feel that it was her presence in the apartment that put it there. She ate every bit of the breakfast he had prepared for her, not because she was really all that hungry but because she wanted to please him.
"Daddy, can I ask you something that's really none of my business?"
"You can ask," her father said, and grinned, "but there is no guarantee that I'll answer."
"It's pretty important to me...."
"So ask!"
"All those years that mother was ill ... well, you and she weren't able to ... to have sex, were you?"
"No," her father said, and shook his head sadly. "She ... no ... no, we weren't."
"What did you do for release of your sexual tension?"
The old man tried to smile; didn't quite make it.
"May I ask why you're asking?"
"It's not just idle curiosity, Daddy. Really, it's so darn important it isn't funny."
"Something to do with your studies?"
Donna nodded ... and her father got up from the table, picked up the coffeepot from the stove and refilled each of their cups. He seemed to be waging some sort of philosophical battle within himself ... and his color grew pale. Finally, he sighed and re turned to his seat at the table.
"I suppose that what you're really asking is whether or not I ever cheated on your mother," he said, his head held down, unable to look into his daughter's eyes. "Well, the answer is yes!"
"Can ... can you tell me about it?"
"It?"
"Yes, about the ... oh, I see," Donna said in a little whisper of a voice. "There was more than one, huh? That's it, isn't it?"
"I'd still like to hear about ... about them, Daddy, but if it's going to string you out...."
"Actually, I've wanted to tell you for quite some time, Donna," her father said. "But first ... well, I want you to know that I loved your mother very much."
"I know that, Daddy...."
"Do you really?"
"Of course...."
"Your mother had been sick for nearly five years the first time it happened and ... oh, Donna, my need was so great. I was constantly horny ... and it began to have an effect on other aspects of my life. Old friends would stop me and ask if your mother had taken a turn for the worse ... that sort of thing. And there really wasn't anyone I could talk to about it ... my problem."
"I understand, Daddy. Really, I do...."
"Well, I got chummy with this secretary at work. She was quite a bit younger than me and ... well, a fine-looking woman. Built like ... like...."
Donna felt her face go red as she caught her father looking at her breasts. "Are you trying to tell me that she had big boobs, Daddy?"
"Yeah," the old man said, and shrugged. "I don't know why I should find it so difficult to verbalize all of this, but ... I sure as hell am. Anyway, she asked me over to her home one day after work and we ended up in bed. It got to be a pretty regular thing after a while ... and then one afternoon ... the two of us were on the sofa in the living room, naked as the day we came into the world; indeed, I was in the process of ... of climax ... and ... well, her husband walked in and caught us."
"Oh, Daddy ... how horrible!"
"Oh, it was that all right-horrible. I swear, Donna, I didn't know that she was married ... but in' truth I don't believe it would have made a bit of difference if I had known. I wanted her, needed her ... so very, very badly, Donna, and I ... I don't know."
"What happened then? With her husband, I mean?"
"That's the real kicker, sweetheart. I mean, if he had started in screaming and cussing or threatened me or even beat me to within an inch of my life I think I could have dealt with it, but ... no, the bastard started to cry, and, I swear, it was all I could do to keep from rushing over to his side and begging him to forgive me."
"Oh, wow...."
"She and her husband were divorced about a month later, but ... well, I refused to have anything more to do with her after that. Too guilty about it, I guess. It taught me a real lesson. After that one experience I made certain that the other women in my life were free."
"Were there a lot of them, Daddy?"
"Quite a few, I'm afraid. It seemed to get easier as time went by. I mean, I didn't feel so guilty about what I was doing to your mother."
"Did you love any of them?"
"Love?"
"Yeah...."
"I ... I really don't know, baby. Yeah, in a way I did, I guess. I cared about them-that much I can say with certainty, and caring is an aspect of love.
There was even one I would have liked to marry."
"Did you ever feel that you were using the women?"
"Sure ... but they were using me, too. Not that I'm trying to say that two wrongs made a right, baby. It's just that sex falls into one of those great gray areas where all the traditional means of measuring right from wrong somehow fail to apply. Sex is both a physical and an emotional thing ... and it's best when you have both of these things together in the same package, but ... well, there are times when you have to settle for one or the other."
"Did you ever ... use the services of a prostitute?"
"Once, when I was a kid ... fourteen, fifteen, something like that, I did. I was so damn excited that I ejaculated before I ... before I had a chance to put my penis into her vagina. The woman thought that it was the funniest damn thing and, of course, I was on the point of tears ... my big chance and I blew it, but she ... ah ... worked me up again and I was finally able to make it in the way nature had intended. It's strange, I guess, Donna, but even now, after all these years, I still think of that woman, that prostitute, with the greatest sense of affection you can possibly imagine."
"I don't think it's strange, Daddy...."
"Well ... now you know all my deep, dark secrets."
"I hope ... well, that you weren't too embarrassed by the whole thing," Donna said. "And ... I'm really glad that you told me. It clears up a whole lot of things that had been messing with my head for quite some time now."
"Well, good...."
Lon McCall arrived at precisely seven-thirty and he and Donna drove down to the flats-that gray and dirty stretch of sprawling industrial wasteland along the Cuyahoga River. Near the mouth of the river, where the filthy Cuyahoga dumps its cargo of poisonous sludge into Lake Erie, there are several nightclubs--unpretentious little places with peanut shells on the floor, good food and live entertainment.
The parking lot at Charlie's River Warehouse was filled to overflowing and Lon had to park his ancient Ford out on the street. The music from a quartet of Irish folk singers spilled out into the street from the nightclub ... and Donna felt a rush of excitement as Lon took her hand and led her toward the nightclub.
All the tables were taken and they were forced to sit at the bar. Lon ordered a Tom Collins for Donna and a mug of Irish-stout for himself ... and then the pair of them spun around on their stools to face the stage just as the quartet went into a song about an English medico living in Ireland who has his motor car stolen by members of the I.R.A. The crowd seemed to go wild and the honey-blonde found herself being swept up in the excitement of the moment, her toes tapping and her shoulders bouncing with the beat of the music. The song about the motor car came to an end ... and there were cries of "Up the Public" from the audience, and then the lights went dim and the singers went into an ancient love song-all about a farmer and his cow, but it was done in an aboriginal Celtic tongue and so few of the patrons actually understood what was being said-and a mood was set, a tone formed, a quiet aura of sensuality that soon infected most of the crowd. Donna felt the fingers of Lon's hands settle down gently on her knee and she eased her head against his broad shoulder.
The Irish quartet was replaced on the stage by a tall, thin girl with long, stringy, blonde hair. She played a mountain dulcimer and sang songs of the Southern mountains in a soft and melodious voice ... and the quiet aura of sensuality that had infected the crowd grew stronger and stronger, and Donna felt the muscles down within her cauldron begin to twitch and jerk. Lon's hand was on her inner thigh now, the fingers there tracing idle patterns in the soft, quivering flesh.
It was nearly eleven o'clock when they left the club, and Donna was feeling a bit tipsy ... and more than a little wonderful, too. She felt ... well, somehow reborn, once again a freshly scrubbed kid out on her first real date. She seemed to melt against Lon's arm as they made their way back across the street and climbed into his car. "Where are we heading?" she said, as the redhead eased the ancient Ford out into the line of traffic.
"Well, I ... home, I guess!"
"Oh, it so beautiful out, Lon...."
"I know...."
"Let's not go home just yet."
"Well, where would you like to go?"
"Anywhere we can make love!"
"Oh, Donna...."
"Easy, lover," Donna said, and grinned. "Watch your driving, lover."
The Garfield-Storm Motel offered rooms with double occupancy at four dollars a night.
"I'm a little pressed for bread," Lon said, as he fitted the key into the door of their room. "I ... well, I ... it sure is dingy...."
"No, it's wonderful," Donna said. "No ... no, it's not," he said. "It's terrible ... and I'm sorry, Donna. Perhaps we'd better...."
Donna fell into his arms and cut off his words with a long and soulful kiss. Lon picked her up in his arms and carried her over to the bed ... and Donna felt a strange and sudden change come over the redhead. He seemed tense, almost ... well, almost angry, but she dismissed it as just a case of jitters or something. After all, it had been a long time for the two of them. His hands began to fumble at her breasts ... and then he began to grind his manhood up against the side of her leg as he buried his tongue deeply, roughly down into her mouth.
Donna tried to ease away from him, but he held her in a viselike grip ... and his breathing began to sound like the hollow, raspy breathing of a wounded reptile. He slipped one of his hands up under her skirt and began to tug away frantically at her panties.
"Easy, lover," Donna cried.
"I need you, Donna...."
"And I need you, too, baby, but ... there's no reason for all this roughness," Donna said. "I'm in no hurry ... and I do so want our first time together again to be right, Lon ... darling!"
There was the sound of material being torn.
"Oh, it'll be everything you deserve, Donna...."
"Lon," she cried. "Hey, I...."
"Damn you," Lon screamed. "Damn you, damn you...."
"What is this, Lon?"
"Shut up...."
"What did you say?"
"I told you to shut the hell up...."
"But, Lon...."
He crawled on top of her, forcing her legs apart with his knees ... and Donna stared up at in in angry confusion, more than a little frightened. There was so much anger in his face, so much ... hate, and it seemed to leap out at her like the flames of a fire.
"Why, Lon?" Donna said in a whisper.
"Why, huh," Lon cried, and zipped down his pants. He freed his penis and curled his fingers around the shank of it. "You see this, bitch? It's white ... white, you lousy nigger lover!"
"What are you talking about, Lon?"
"You and that stinking jungle bunny!"
"What...?"
"It was all over the school," Lon screamed. "Everybody knew that you had sucked him off."
"You're not making any sense, Lon!"
"You made a fool out of me, Donna ... you and that lousy nigger, that Tyrone Gilhooley. I was so in love with you ... and you quit me for that black ape."
"That's crazy, Lon. It was months after we broke up that I went out with Ty ... and it was you who broke off with me, not the other way around. You said that you owed it to yourself to experience other girls...."
"But you knew that I was still in love with you."
"No, I didn't...."
"You did, you did...."
"Lon, you were going steady with Mary Ellen!"
"At least she was white...."
"Oh, Lon ... Lon," Donna said, miserably.
He lowered himself down into the saddle, driving his hard and screaming manhood into her vagina like a sword ... and all the honey-blonde could do was close her eyes and wait for it to be over. She lay there, unable to move as the boy who had once been such a kind and considerate lover ripped away at her flesh with his hate ... and when he was finished he picked up the ragged remnant of her panties and used it to wipe off his penis. He stood up, glaring down at the golden one.
"C'mon, nigger lover ... I'll take you home."
"Please leave, Lon," Donna said. "I'll take a cab, but ... please, get out of my sight before I say something that we'll both be sorry for later."
"You're a lousy lay, Donna...."
"Oh, Lon...."
"But then, maybe you only move when it's black peter that makes you move."
"Get out!"
"With pleasure, bitch...."
"Get out of here...."
The redhead took a ten-dollar bill from his wallet and threw it down on the bed. "Here," he said. "For the cab. Never let it be said that Lon McCall ever left a woman stranded ... even a lousy, stinking traitor to her race. Maybe the cabbie will be black and then you and he...."
"You're sick, Lon. Really sick...."
"I'm sick, huh?"
"Will you please just get out of here?"
"I loved you," Lon said. "I ... I even wanted to marry you ... and you had to go and spoil everything."
Tears welled up in his eyes and began to roll down his face. Suddenly, he turned on his heels and stormed out of the room, banging the door closed behind him.
Donna picked up the phone on the stand at the side of the bed and asked the desk clerk to call a cab for her.
It was nearly one o'clock when Donna arrived back at her father's apartment. The old man was asleep on the couch ... apparently having fallen asleep while watching the television set. She turned off the set and then went to bed. Once again she dreamed of Bob and Valarie and the Ginsbergs ... and once again they were all sprawled out on the huge water bed in the Ginsbergs' home. The fat man appeared as if by magic ... only this time he had Lon McCall's face, and the golden-one woke up screaming.