Chapter 5
Anne was dead to the world when he let himself into their apartment. He tiptoed into the bedroom and saw that she was asleep, lying on her side, one hip raised enticingly under the blankets. He stood over her for a moment. He was a different man now, and for a moment the wild recklessness of the night came back to him and he thought of pulling the blankets down and ripping off her Mother Hubbard nightgown and ravishing her lovely body. She did have a magnificent figure and Rick would be pleased with it. Jeff's lips spread in a grim smile as he thought of watching her being fucked by Rick Johnson. He had all sorts of half-formed plans in mind for her and he stood gloating, his aching cock beginning to swell again.
The pain of his erection told him just how much he hurt and how tired he was. He forced himself to undress as quietly as possible and slip into bed. He let out a long low sigh as he felt the clean sheets around his body and the warmth of the blankets. He closed his eyes blissfully, sure he could sleep for a week.
Only to jump at the screaming, insistent jangle of the alarm! Jesus Christ, he told himself, it was time to get up already! He got to his elbows and fixed bleary, unbelieving eyes on the clock which vibrated on the bureau. He was going to have to go to work with no sleep at all!
Anne rolled over, stretched in a lithe motion, and yawned. She blinked several times and looked over at Jeff. "Good morning, darling."
"Morning."
"Did you get home late?"
"Yeah."
"I tried to wait up for you, but I got so sleepy."
"Yeah, I know," he said, struggling out of bed. He had seen the ashtray full of cigarette butts and the empty cup that had contained tea and all the magazines strewn over the couch and floor. With a grim satisfaction, he thought that in the future she would be reading something different from House and Garden and drinking something a little heavier than tea.
"Did you work late?" she asked, getting out of her bed on the far side and not looking at his naked body as she headed for the bathroom, beating him to it.
"Yeah." In one way, he was relieved that she was so puritanical. He was glad that she fled to the bathroom and closed the door, leaving it open just a crack so that they could talk. He got into his underwear and walked over to the door, eager to complete his alibi. "Then the boss and the boys wanted to go out for a drink, and we did. Talked shop, mostly."
"Oh? I'm glad you had a good time."
"Yeah." He was buttoning his shirt, standing by the door, when he noticed that he could see through the crack and watch his wife undressing in the mirror. If only she didn't notice! "Yeah, it was nice and I met a nice couple."
"Oh? Who?" she asked.
He watched as she pulled her nightgown off over her head and he saw all of her naked figure. It was petite and made his mouth water and his prick begin to swell again. If anything, she had a better figure than Carol. Was that possible? He stood close to the crack in the door, watching. Yes, it was true. There was a thick softness to the rounding of her curves and her breasts were like two ripe honeydew melons seen in the moonlight. Her stomach was firm and her waist small. Her buttocks jutted out in two rounded identical firm cheeks and her stomach, seen in the mirror, swooped down to her blonde pubic hair which was wispy and soft.
Her thighs and legs were perfect, like the shapely legs of a thoroughbred showgirl. She was everything a carnal man could want; especially a lewd son of a bitch like Rick Johnson. If he could do what he had last night to Carol, his own wife, imagine what he would do to Anne!
The thought brought on a sadistic lust in Jeff again and he thrilled to the thought of doing something so lewd and forbidden. He was going to do it, he knew it; he was going to offer his wife up to the God of lust and depravity. He was going to help the Johnsons in their scheme to seduce and debase and humiliate his own wife! He watched, his penis growing hard as she moved about the bathroom, brushing her teeth with a vigorous motion that made her large firm breasts jiggle and sway in such an exciting way. She stopped and straightened, standing still as if listening.
"Jeff?" she called, her mouth full of toothpaste.
He stepped away from the door, hastily buttoning his shirt and moving toward the closet for a pair of pants. "Yes?" he asked over his shoulder.
"Who did you meet?" she asked.
"Oh. Yes. Sorry, I was getting dressed," he called back as he quickly hopped into his pants. "I met this couple. Rick and Carol Johnson."
The names, sounded in his own house, thrilled him. He had already started the plan. He tiptoed back to the door and peeked in to see her bending over the basin. Greedily he took in her buttocks and imagined her on her knees and hands with Bruno spreading those beautiful cheeks and licking her anus and cunt and her wiggling and begging to be fucked.
She rinsed her mouth and straightened, her buttocks rounding out pertly below the curve and hollow of her back. "What are they like?" she called as if he were across the bedroom.
He hurriedly tiptoed away from the door and called, "They're very nice. Intelligent and attractive and successful." He suppressed a wild laugh as he said, "We hit if off right away. Very nice people." He couldn't hide his smirk as he said, "I told them all about you and they want to meet you. They thought we might get together for dinner or something."
Anne came out of the bathroom in her robe, leaving the door open, silently telling him it was his turn. She would get dressed while he shaved. "What kind of people are they?"
"I told you. Nice and... warm and intelligent."
"I mean, what does he do?"
"He's in television. Makes some kind of documentaries."
"What does she do?"
"I dunno," he answered, suppressing a smile. "Guess she's a housewife."
"Is she beautiful?"
He leveled his eyes at her and said, completely honest, "Yes. She's a redhead. But not as beautiful as you." Anne gave him a prissy, pleased smile and said, "Why, thank you, kind sir."
"Don't mention it. I think they really would like to have dinner or a drink with us."
Anne gave a professional frown as she waited for him to go into the bathroom before taking her robe off. "I don't know. It doesn't seem that we have much in common. I mean, he's in television and you're in fund raising. Do they go to church?"
Jeff stepped into the bathroom and closed the door halfway. "Honey, take my word for it, we have a lot in common. You'll see."
"I hope so," she called above the running water as he began lathering his face. The cool lather felt good and he smiled at his image in the mirror. She would see just how much they had in common.
He thanked whatever gods were looking over him that day. The boss was out of the office for the day and he pretended he had a lot of paperwork to do and locked himself in his office and lay back in his chair and thought.
He had to be careful what he did. He had to think more about the Johnsons. Last night now seemed like an unreal dream out of some pornographic version of the Arabian Nights. Yet it was real. "It was real," he said aloud. "Fantastic." There were things to consider. Their behavior. They knew little about him yet talked in such open terms to him and then behaved in such a lewd, abandoned way!'
He wondered if they were crazy, if they weren't mad and apt to get violent or do something that would endanger him with the rest of society. They had drunk absinthe and smoked hashish. All that was dangerous and illegal. Aside from the illegality, there was the matter of what such things did to one's mind. Perhaps he was wrong and, for the first time, he began to have misgivings.
As the day wore on, he became increasingly agitated. Supposing he went through with their plan and Anne didn't respond? Supposing the opposite effect was created? Supposing she saw them all as depraved beasts and blew the whistle on all of them? Anne was capable of doing such a thing.
Although he found his weariness increasing as each minute went by, he couldn't sit still. He paced his office restlessly. There were, after all, certain realities to be faced. Would he want his wife, Anne, to be like Carol? Was that what Carol and Rick hadthat kind of married life he wanted? Did he really want to bring other men into his home and watch his wife act like a slut and fuck them right in front of his eyes? Could he stand the sight of Anne naked, on her knees, sucking on some stranger's cock while he watched?
His mind answered with a resounding masculine No! Yet his groin told him that it was a wild Yes! His cock was swelling again just at the thought of it.
Late last night, or, to be more realistic, early this morning, while the three of them lay around the Johnson home spent, sated and exhausted, Jeff found the hashish wearing off, yet just enough of it remained to let his tongue wag and he had asked questions which seemed to come up. And the Johnsons had answered in their almost too casual way. Yes, their relationship was different from that of most married couples, but not as different as he might think. There were other couples, couples that they knew, who behaved more or less like them. They belonged to a group they called "The Cub." It was a group of young, successful, attractive couples who met periodically and had an orgy. "We can't have them too often," Rick explained with a yawn, "The members live all over the country, and believe me, after one of our meetings, you won't want to have another for a while."
Carol had stretched her lovely body. "Mmmmmmm. Once we drew straws. The girl that got the short straw was fair game for all the men." She had looked at Jeff with a languid gaze and evil smile. "I got the short straw and ten men were fucking me." There was a smirking pause. "Ten men and two of the women."
"That was in direct violation of the rules," Rick laughed.
"Take it up with the steering committee," Carol said in a bored tone.
After more insistent questioning by Jeff, Rick sat up and said, "Okay, I know what you're after. Here it is. We got into this thing by accident. After we first got into it, we were skating on thin ice until we came to an understanding. The understanding is this: I love my wife and she loves me. Neither of us will do anything without the other's full knowledge and consent. No hanky-panky and little 'affairs' on the side. No jealousies, either. The result is we trust one another and our love for each other is greater now than it ever was before."
Jeff looked down at his shoes, not wanting to comment on Rick's statements.
Carol looked at him with a sleepy look bordering on disgust. She shifted her lovely body and stretched, long and lovely, utterly naked, not even attempting to hide her secret loveliness. "God, Jeff, you're so obvious!"
He looked at her in surprise. "Huh? Obvious about what?"
"About us. I can see that little middle class mind of yours turning over. You think we're crazy or depraved or immoral or a combination of all those things. Yet take a good look at yourself. You're here. You answered an ad and you're here and you enjoyed yourself. You had your kicks and now you want to slip back to your comfortable dull life with your bitch of a cold-blooded wife and live in miserable comfort and security and damn people like us." Anger flashed in her blue eyes and her nostrils flared, her red hair in wild disarray. "Well, just remember one thing. Nobody forced you into this situation. You could and can still just walk away. You got what you came after and more. So crawl off and damn us, but don't forget, nobody made you do what you did. You wanted to do it! And what anybody wants to do is what they're really like!"
"And don't forget another thing," Rick said, pointing an accusing finger. "We were honest with you all the way. We never held anything back from you. It was you and you alone who came here with lies and tried to get something for nothing. Now, considering that we all wanted the same thing and you were the only one who lied, what does that make you?"
An exhausted, sullen anger flared in Jeff. "That's not true!" he said defiantly, knowing in his heart that what they had just said was only too true. Close to tears, he held his hands out and said, "It's just all new and so... different to me. I never dreamed of people like you or situations like this. I don't know how to act. I don't know the rules."
A weary silence hung heavy in the room, with Rick and Carol exchanging a long meaningful glance. "He's right," Carol finally said. She got up and came over, touching him gently on the shoulder. "It is new to you and you don't know the rules and I must seem like some kind of slut"
"I never thoughtJeff interrupted, protesting, only to be shushed by Carol.
"Well, I am a slut. I had a ball tonight. I am what I am and my husband loves me. He is what he is and I love him. If you should ever try if any guy should ever try to make a pass at me, sneak a little on the side, I'd slap him in the face and Rick would tear him apart with his bare hands and I'd help. I'm a slut and an exhibitionist. I'm bisexual and Ricky enjoys seeing me be what I am because he is what he is." She moved away, back toward her husband, stretching and yawning again. "And right now I'm a very tired and satisfied exhibitionistic slut and I want to go to bed."
She turned by the door, provocative, sensual, standing framed by the doorway, hands on her naked hips, her pelvis thrust out. "The thing is, Mr. Jeff Haines, you have to come to terms with yourself. You have to decide what it is you want to be or, rather, just what it is that you really are."
And Jeff paced his office, weary, irritated, their words burning in his mind. In the short space of twenty-four hours, his life had turned topsy-turvy. Up was down and wrong was right. He had to admit that he was very lucky. Men have been shot and hung for doing less than he had done last night. If Anne knew or suspected, she would have every right in the world to divorce him.
He was rapidly developing a sick headache as his mind and emotions reeled back and forth. Much of what the Johnsons said had the implacable ring of truth about it. In one way, they were courageous people; in another way, they were perilously close to insanity. And he was being tortured. What was right? Who was right? Jibing taunts of theirsabout leading a dull and miserable lifewere true. He was bored and frustrated by his life with Anne. He felt they were going nowhere but down into a cushy life of deadly respectability. It wasn't that he minded church; he wouldn't mind anything if he could have some loving on the side.
Love. Sex. He sat down and lit a cigarette and forced himself to think. Could he ever again enjoy the kind of sex he might expect from Anne? The two of them alone and in bed, the lights out, Anne stiff and undemonstrative, and the whole thing over almost before it began? He made a fist and slammed it down on the desk. There was weak point in the Johnson argument: normal sex paled after a night of debauchery. The Johnsons were constantly seeking new thrillsso much so that they had to advertise. What would their lives be like in a year? Two years? What kind of "kicks" would they be seeking then? What would be next after Bruno? A horse? An elephant?
Despite himself, he laughed at the thought of Rick leading an elephant into their playroom. Again his mind turned a hundred and eighty degrees and he asked himself: just what is so-called "normal" sex? Was Anne normal about sex? Was Carol? Rick? Was he, Jeff, normal about sex?
He felt that he needed help, that there had to be someone he could turn to and unburden his heart and discover some sort of way or solution to the dilemma he found himself in. Yet there was no one he could think of. One moment he found himself wanting to do an obscene thing and deliver his wife up as some kind of lewd sacrifice; the next moment he found himself revolted by his desires and thoughts and the whole idea of doing such a thing. A man just didn't act that way toward his wife, the woman that he loved. No, he decided, no matter what they say, no matter how convincing their arguments, there was still something basically wrong with the way they lived.
Yet, his head throbbing from lack of sleep and the physical exhaustion of the night before combined with the emotional and moral upheaval in his mind and heart, he knew, deep down, basically, that he wanted to go back to the Johnsons'. He wanted to go back and wallow in depravity. He wanted more than anything to go back and watch and participate in their obscene and vile orgies. He wanted to feel that wild sadistic pleasure and go beyond the point of caring and indulge himself in any and every kind of sexual pleasure.
In truth, he knew that he loved to watch a woman be humiliated. And, deep in his groin, he knew that women liked that kind of thing. Carol was not alone. Anne, except for her upbringing and ideals, was the very same way. Yet he couldn't see any way of changing her.
And did he want to change her? Would he want to lead a life married to such a woman as Carol Johnson?
He groaned and held his head in his hands. Here I go again, he thought. He rummaged through the drawers of his desk, looking for aspirin, anything to ease his pounding head. "Oh God," he said aloud, "What a fix I'm in. Isn't there any way out?"
As if by answer, the phone on his desk began ringing politely. He picked it up. "Hello? Jeff Haines. Can I help you?"
"You sure can, Jeff." There was no mistaking the voice coming across the line. It was Carol's voice, low and sweet and husky, and a flood of memories rushed over him and he could almost smell her and he could certainly see her in his mind's eye.
"Carol?"
Her laughter came pealing through the phone. "No, it's Billy Graham. How are you feeling?" "All right. Okay. You?"
"Just great. Had a nice long sleep and woke up and was lying here thinking of you and last night. Mmmmmm. Have a good time?"
"Yeah."
"That all you got to say? How did your wife, Anne, take it? I mean, your staggering home at the crack of dawn all fucked out?"
"She was asleep. Didn't know what time I got home. Everything worked out fine."
"Luck of the Irish."
"Yeah, except I'm not Irish."
"Don't confuse me with details. Mmmmm, Jeff, I was lying here, naked, thinking of you and getting all hot and bothered again, and then I remembered something," she said, her voice going low and serious.
"What?" he asked, his voice dropping also as he tried to hide his apprehension.
"I was thinking back to the first time Rick and I cut loose and all the guilt and doubt we felt, all the unnecessary torment we put ourselves through. Then I thought or realized that it was entirely possible that you are going through the same thing."
Jeff took a deep breath, then let it all out in a gush. "I am," he said, his voice betraying his inner despair. "I am. I'm confused."
"I know," Carol's voice purred in his ear, full of sympathy and sexuality at the same time. "You'll get over it. Honest. I swear."
"It doesn't seem right and yet it does. Supposing somebody finds out?"
"Supposing they do?" Carol asked, an edge of impatience in her tone.
"I've got my job and future to think about."
"Your job?" Carol asked scornfully. "What do you do? You work for a fund raiser. Supposing I were to tell you that I've gone to bed with Judd Phillips?"
Jeff knew the name. Judd Phillips ran the biggest and most successful fund raising outfit on the West Coast. Judd was the wonder boy of the business.
"Supposing," Carol went on, "I told you I fucked him while Rick fucked his wife. Would you believe me?" "Well, yeah, why not?" he said, bewildered.
"Listen, when Rick and I got married, he was nothing but a little A.D., an assistant director. Do you know what an assistant director makes? Do you know what he does on TV? He's a gofer."
"Go-fer?" he asked, not understanding.
"Yes. Go-fer coffee, go-fer cigarettes, go-fer the airport to pick up some star's luggage. It's a nothing job. When we started swapping, we got to meet people. Don't get me wrong. Rick didn't get where he is by peddling my ass all over town. He got where he is because he's talented, and when the doors were opened to him he was ready."
Jeff played with paper clips on his desk. The possibilities were apparent to him and the temptation was great. He sat silent, listening to her breathing on the other end of the wire and wanting to fuck her again. Crazy or not, she was a fantastic lay. "Fantastic," he finally said.
"No, not fantastic, just the normal course of events. Fuck a person and you get to know them. Like I know you."
"Huh?"
"I wish you'd stop saying that. Huh. Sounds so like a stupid schoolboy. Look, I know you and I know you undersell yourself and you're bothered by all sorts of things that shouldn't bother you."
His face twisted. "I'm confused. I don't know what to do."
"Well, I'll tell you what to do, and you do just as I tell you." Her voice was husky and vibrant again and he felt chills running up and down his spine. "Your wife doesn't suspect anything?"
"No."
"Did you tell her about us?"
"Yes."
"What did you say?"
"What you and Rick told me to say. I just mentioned you, that's all."
"Good," she said with satisfaction. "Now I'm going to tell you what to do. You go home and be loving to your wife and eat a good dinner and have a nice long hot shower and go to bed. Act natural and don't be nervous about anything she might say about us."
"What's she going to say?" he asked, wary again.
"Never mind, you'll find out. One more thing. You said she was religious, right?"
"Right."
"Good. 'Bye now. Mmmmmm. We can't wait." There was a click in his ear as Carol hung up, and he sat holding the phone, blinking. To his amazement, his headache had cleared up.