Chapter 2
Sally Parker sat naked before the vanity and combed out her long, shining blonde hair. Randy had often commented on the wonderful quality of her hair, which was her crowning glory. He often ran his fingers through it as if it were money. Her hair had a metallic, almost coppery quality to it; it was lustrous and totally unlike all those bottle-blondes. At times she was almost embarrassed the way he exulted over it. It was this coppery quality that allowed her to brush it so easily and let it grow so long. It never snarled, and she had never had it cut. She liked it, and she liked the fact that Randy liked it.
Indeed, her hair was probably her most attractive feature. She looked around, to be sure her husband wasn't coming in then cupped her breasts in her hands. Her bosom was another magnetic feature, she knew. Although when she was younger she had been very self-conscious and awkward, and apologetic, about her breasts. Her mother had brought her up very strictly to believe that excessive sexual manifestations were inherently sinful. Consequently when she had begun "blossoming" at only twelve years of age, her mother had made her wrap her breasts up very tightly with cotton gauze so that they showed as little as possible beneath her girlish dresses.
Not that this had succeeded to keep men from noticing her, and trying to get her off into corners. She could even remember a very loathsome and embarrassing encounter with Reverend Peterson but that didn't bear thinking about.
She was married to Randy Parker now, and there would be longer be any of the sort of problem she had experienced as a single girl. She was convinced quite thoroughly that once a woman was married, men left her strictly alone. Only single girls were 'game' for men's baser natures. As a married woman, consequently, she would be relieved for good from all discomfiting male attentions. No more struggles, psychological or otherwise, keeping coarse and crude men at bay. She had Randy now sweet and considerate Randy.
What a relief it was to be married to wonderful Randy. He knew how to treat and respect a girl. He wasn't at all coarse or demanding. He understood that sex was not as much fun for a girl as it was for a man, and he treated her accordingly. Their honeymoon at Niagara Falls had been marked by the utmost kindness, consideration and understanding on his part. He had been very gentle, and never demanding. He had oh-so-gently initiated her into the somewhat repellent mystery involved when a male puts his penis (unbearable even to think of) into a woman's most treasured grotto. If it hadn't been Randy doing that, she would have been disgusted beyond measure. But fortunately it was him, her wonderful husband, and she knew her duty and the fact that they wanted to have children of course so naturally it hadn't been disgusting. She had acquiesced calmly, largely ignoring the act and concentrating on studying the ceiling as his body panted in and out of her.
This was just as her mother had taught her-that the sex act was fundamentally disgusting, but that any good woman acquiesced for the pleasure of her husband and for the fact of having children. Thus it was that Sally had been able to ignore her instinctive revulsion and permit Randy to do 'it'. He had been very easy with her, not forcing his penis in brutally as her mother had taught her to expect and fortunately her virginal membrane had not been very sturdy, so there had been very little pain or blood. So she had merely lain there and permitted him to use her.
Her eyes warmed on her body again in the mirror. When she was living at home with her mother, right up to the time of her marriage, she had never allowed herself to sit around like this, naked. A woman always had to remain covered, and removed her clothing and allowed a man to make love to her only in the dark, her mother had taught her. But somehow she felt Randy wouldn't mind, and it was after all unseasonably warm.
Strange the almost abnormal feeling of freedom she'd had since she'd married Randy. Everything had moved in a dream since that day. She felt more affectionate and yielding toward him every day. He didn't criticize her constantly, as her mother had, in a way it was as if an anvil she'd never known existed had been lifted off the top of her head.
There was a certain indefinable feeling of ease to be found sitting around naked like this, uncaring, in one's own home. But she would never have felt so relaxed about it in her mother's house. But Randy didn't seem to have any objection. Indeed, she had the distinct impression that he liked to look at her body.
But then that was men, after all. Fundamentally men all had dirty minds and were creatures that gave little thought to anything but sex and women's bodies stimulated them. So she really couldn't blame him. He was just a man, after all. It wasn't his fault.
"Hi."
Randy suddenly strolled in and sat down on the bed, his long brown body gleaming with sweat. His index finger fished around in a pack of cigarettes half-crumpled and almost empty
finally coming up with a cigarette. Her mother had never approved of cigarettes, either, and Randy had never smoked them in her presence
until his terrible performance on the day of their wedding, when he'd literally blown smoke into her face. Sally still didn't know whether to forgive him for that or laugh about it.
She continued combing out her hair, letting his eyes wander naughtily over voluptuously exposed flesh. "They seem very nice," she said.
"The Mathises? Yeah, they're okay." He took a drag and blew out shafts of smoke through his nose. His eyes studied her. She thought she noticed in the mirror that his bathing suit had an unseemly bulge in it between his legs. Sally made a sour face and hoped that he wouldn't be too demanding this afternoon. She was really tired from moving, and now the sunshine had taken quite a bit out of her, too.
"She's pretty," she offered.
"Huh? Yeah. She's a dish." Randy stood up suddenly and came over to her, pressing her body against her. She could feel the bulge in his crotch pressing against her bare back he definitely had an erection. She blushed as he reached over her shoulders and took her breasts in his hands, running his thumbs over her nipples.
"Randy ... I ... "
"Yeah?" He pressed his lips to the base of her neck and continued tweaking at her raw and exposed rubber eraser nipples. Sally didn't like very well the way they hardened under his touch. She wasn't that sort of girl, fundamentally.
"I'm tired," she said at last.
His face soured in the mirror. "No you're not, you're fresh as a daisy." He didn't say anything more, and his face seemed to be concealing something. She made up her mind that if he insisted, she would give in, although it didn't seem quite right to be doing sex and things in daylight, somehow.
She put her hand on one of his, still blushing. He was continuing to knead her breasts, and she almost felt what was it? There was an indefinable something that seemed to be emanating from out of his hands, out of her breasts, up into her throat. She felt nervous, watchful. Ordinarily she had been able to handle the sex thing in her stride; she was unaccountably nervous this evening. He seemed to be rushing her, for a change, and she wasn't quite sure that she liked it.
"I love you," he whispered through her warm kiss against her throat.
She patted his cheek patronizingly. "I know you do, darling. It's just that a woman is not like a man."
"Good thing, too."
"We have our moments," she went on, "when we're just not in the mood. You should know that I'm sure I wasn't the first girl you'd ever been with."
"There is no such thing as rape between a man and his wife," he murmured through his trail of kisses; his strong hands were continuing to fondle and squeeze her breasts. She felt her breathing coming quite irregularly. She wondered what had made him make such an irrelevant statement. Why was he suddenly discussing rape?
"Well, you know I'll always cooperate, dear," she said lovingly, touching his face, and suddenly, as if he had pressed a start button in her side, she got up and went over to the bed, lying down flat on her back with her legs spread. Even as she did this it occurred to her how amazing it was that she was so at ease in her nudity with Randy whom she'd lived with only such a little while-while in all of her twenty years of living with her mother she could never remember being anything but circumspect with respect to the exposure of her nubile bare flesh.
He looked down at her and for a moment and she wondered if she detected a trace of disappointment in his face. No, she thought, that couldn't possibly be right. Perhaps he was just a little over tired too from moving. It had been a long day.
"All right," he said abruptly, and he pushed down his bathing suit.
If it had been anyone else besides Randy, the sight of a man's penis might have thrown her into something of a panic, but she knew by now how gentle he would be with her. She gazed only momentarily at his large and hardened member, jutting out so strongly from his belly hair and the fluffy sac of his testicles, then she shifted her eyes decorously away. She knew very well, as her mother had taught her so diligently, that men preferred their wives to be uninterested in sex. She conducted herself accordingly, looking at the ceiling as he lowered himself between her legs. For a moment his mouth was on her breast, seeming to draw in all of it as deeply into his throat as possible, and she made a little involuntary gasp at this unexpected passion. Then quickly there was the blunt head of his penis, searching between the fleecy blonde hairs surrounding her now nervous vagina ... She felt it there, tickling the cuntal lips, then moving slowly inward...
Sally was not a little surprised that she was actually moist down there, and she quite frankly didn't know what to attribute it to. Towards the end of their honeymoon Randy had taken to using a good deal of vaginal jelly, because she had been so dry. So naturally she was quite surprised to find that she was becoming increasingly slick as his penis pressured her normally quiescent cuntal mouth. She shrugged mentally; that was probably natural, she supposed but she was still surprised.
Randy made a small, male-like grunt and pushed his hands under her creamy smooth buttocks, lifting her slightly. And then suddenly his member was sliding all the. way into her ... Sally let out a small gasp ... This actually felt slightly nice. She hoped he wouldn't find out that it was affecting her! He would think she was a fallen woman! She steeled herself and tried to distract her feelings by thinking of other things, as he pushed in and out of her...
For awhile she studied the ceiling and considered what changes they were going to make in the decorating. But then suddenly, unexplainably, she felt an unearthly twinge of pleasure as he shifted his penis sharply within her hot wet channel.
"Oh! Randy!" she cried involuntarily, cursing herself at the same time for this unseemly explosion.
Fortunately, however, he didn't seem to have heard her. Her fingers gripped his swiftly pistoning rump, her fingernails digging sharply into the two tensed cheeks of his muscular buttocks. Working hard to stifle her inclination to moan, Sally bit hard down into her lower lip and shut her eyes. It was impossible for her to understand why this swarm of obscene feelings was fluttering so wildly within the sensitive walls of her tremulous belly. She looked up at him, but obviously he wasn't noticing her at all. His hands were still like eagles' talons on her outsized breasts, while he had drawn the top half of his torso sharply up and was gritting his teeth, his eyes closed and neck muscles straining for what she assumed would be his orgasmic release.
Oh, God, she thought, he mustn't know what I'm feeling right now these little twinges of pleasure . . .he'd be so ashamed. . .
And then suddenly there was an explosive gasp from Randy's straining lips ... perspiration poured out on his forehead, his hair all damp with passion ... there was a sharp whooshing intake of his breath, and then his body seemed to shudder from forehead to ankles, and she could feel his overheated sperm being spat into her belly with each climactic jerk. Mingled in sighs, they abruptly relaxed into each other.
Breathing heavily, Sally stroked his hair, wondering at the strange obscene force that had threatened to overtake her. After a few moments Randy broke out of her arms and sat up to take another cigarette from a fresh pack sitting on the bureau. He sat there smoking and staring off into space for some moments, saying nothing, and Sally began wondering for the first time just what it was he was thinking of in these lengthy aftermaths when she had allowed him to make love to her.
Randy had always been such a good conversationalist. Could it be that there was anything wrong? She smoothed her belly and looked down at her honey blonde flesh, the voluptuously full breasts swelling out on either side, the nicely rounded belly, the soft muff of golden hair between her legs. No, there couldn't be anything wrong. She knew that she was attractive, even beautiful.
Then what was the subtle, unspoken thing that she felt instinctively that had risen between them in the few short weeks since they had married? She shook her head. There was something not quite right, and she was increasingly sure of it.
"Going to sewing lessons again tonight, honey?" asked Cliff as Viola self-consciously straightened and fluffed her hair in front of the hall mirror.
"Well, we're paying for it," she answered noncommittally.
He ruffled his newspaper. "That's right, I guess. Well, don't be too late."
"The girls sometimes like to have a drink afterwards."
"No harm done, so long as you behave yourselves." He looked at her, and for once Viola wondered fearfully if there was some querulousness in his tone. Ordinarily he paid no attention. She felt her heart race; could he actually suspect?
No, it couldn't be that. Feelings of guilt, that's what it was, on her part. Guilty conscience. People with something to hide always took note of the smallest sign that they might be under surveillance; usually there was nothing in it. Clifford couldn't possibly suspect anything. When she came home she would be especially loving to make up for it. But she had to go this night because dissatisfaction was drumming in her breast and loins like a fierce tattoo. Especially after meeting that handsome stud that had moved in next door, and imagining what might be going on there right now among the newlywed Parkers.
Imagination could be a dangerous thing. Now she had to find some kind of surcease anything at all that would calm her down.
She put her arms around Cliffs neck and bent down to give him an affectionate kiss on the cheek, her long dark hair falling to one side. He patted her on the cheek and smiled, "Don't be late, lover. And don't have too much to drink. You know how you get when you drink."
That stung! He knew very well that they had their wildest times in bed on evenings when they had both been drinking pretty heavily.
She drew back from him, her eyebrow raised, and pretended to fumble nervously with her purse. She didn't trust herself to speak. Finally she merely took her coat from the hall closet and left without another word.
The Fools Rush Inn was a little syndicate-run cocktail lounge above a restaurant off Des Plaines River Road. Viola took the stairs with a trembling heart and hoped to death that everything was going to work out all right this evening. If she didn't get something, some sort of sex, to relax her, she felt sure she was going to go off the deep end before very long.
She was a trifle self-conscious returning to the Fools Rush Inn, as she had picked up at least a half dozen men there in the past. But the bartender was pleasant and apparently was glad to see her. He fixed her a double highball, without being asked.
Why shouldn't he be glad to see me, she thought to herself. Easy pickups draw the customers. They ought to be paying me for sitting here.
She dabbled with her drink, her long legs crossed on the stool. It was a little earlier than she usually went out, and she was obviously the first customer. She had long since gotten used to the stares she attracted she was usually the most voluptuous woman hanging loose in any bar she chose to take a drink in but tonight there were no stares, just the polite bartender wiping his glasses and setting up shop.
Finally she slipped off the stool and went to the jukebox to put in a coin.
But the jukebox at the Fools Rush Inn as it was outfit-controlled, didn't require any coins. Free music all the way. She put the change back into her purse and studied the selections.
Perry Como was always nice, and Strangers in the Night by Frank Sinatra. She picked out those and a few others, then returned to her stool.
A man in a business suit had taken a seat down from her. He looked down at her. "Buy you a drink?" he asked, as she was almost finished.
"All right," she said noncommittally. She looked over at him and allowed him a little smile. He was a beefy man, about forty. Not near as good-looking as Cliff, but that didn't matter so much.
He smiled back at her as their drinks arrived, and lifted his in the air. "Here's to ya," he said cheerfully.
Viola smiled. She wondered if he was going to be surprised at the reward he was going to get for his troubles. She'd soon know.