Chapter 6
When Jeff got home, he was greeted at the door by Anne. For the first time in months, he saw her eyes aglow and a bright color in her cheeks. Before he could say a word, she happily informed him that she had gotten a call from Carol Johnson.
If he looked surprised, it was because he was amazed. He had suspected Carol would do something, but knowing her as he did, he hadn't the foggiest notion of what she would do. She certainly wasn't lacking in audacity.
"You didn't tell me what she was like," Anne said, pretending to pout.
"Huh? Sure, sure I did."
Anne laughed. "I mean, you didn't give me any details about her, Or her husband, Rick."
Trying to feign indifference, he picked up the evening paper and started leafing through it. "Oh? Well, what did she say?"
"Oh, we talked for a long time. She's so nice. You didn't tell me they were like us." Anne sat facing him, demure, pulling her skirt down.
Jeff raised his eyebrows. "Like us? They're like us? She said that?"
"You know," Anne said, being coy. Jeff looked at her carefully. So much that was amazing had happened to him lately, he wouldn't be the least surprised if Carol had told Anne the truth and Anne had agreed and liked the idea of an orgy! No, he thought, rubbing his eyes, No, it couldn't be. He calmed himself and smiled at his wife through bleary eyes. He was exhausted, yet trying to appear calm. "Well, I don't know. What did she say?"
"That they were like us, that they had difficulty finding friends that they truly liked. And, oh, we talked, and we have so much in common. She grew up in a very religious family and we talked a long while about that." She jumped up and crossed the room and kissed him on the cheek, putting her arms around him. "I'm so glad you met themshe seems so nice. They invited us over for dinner this Friday night. I told her I thought it was all right with you. Is it?"
"Huh? Friday? Friday night, huh? Sure, sure, it's fine with me."
Anne patted him on the arm and said, "I'll call her tomorrow and tell her."
Jeff hid behind the newspaper and tried hard to pretend he was reading it while his heart pounded against his rib cage and he thought: Friday night. I just agreed to Friday night and I'll be delivering my wife to the Johnsons. Friday night. Carol and Rick. Am I going to do it?
Despite his fatigue, he knew he was going to do it. It roared in his mind and churned in his groin. Forbidden fruit. Having tasted once, he had to taste again. And this time the fruit would be all the wilder and sweeter!
He ate his dinner, making polite conversation about his work and Anne's day, and wondered with her what she should wear to dinner at the Johnsons'. At one point he repressed an insane desire to laugh and tell her it didn't matter what she wore, since she wouldn't be wearing anything very long after she got there. But he didn't. He talked and smiled and, after watching TV with heavy-lidded eyes for what he thought was an appropriate length of time, yawned and announced he was going to bed.
Anne agreed, and they went through their nightly ritual, using the bathroom one at a time, and went to bed. Despite his weariness, Jeff found he couldn't sleep. It was all going to happen. On Friday night, it would all happen. He tried not to think of it, yet couldn't think of anything else. Visions of Anne naked, electrifying visions of all four of them naked and fucking, burned in his mind like a bank of neon lights.
Nature took its course and, despite his throbbing erection, he drifted off into a restless sleep. Despite all that Carol and Rick had said, despite all their convincing, something was wrong. Some little thing. What was it? He tried to grasp the clue but he felt as if he was on a merry-go-round, whirling in the dark, frantically groping for the brass ring and not having any idea where it was. He finally gave up with a ragged sigh and sank into deep dark sleep.
It nagged at him all the next day and night. Whatever was bothering him, he couldn't put his finger on it.
That night, at home, he again hurried out of his clothing and tiptoed to the door and peered through the crack.
He was hotter and hornier than he had ever been. Since that night at the Johnsons', he found that sex was constantly on his mind. He found that he was now skipping eating lunch and spending his lunch hour searching out liquor stores that sold girlie magazines. He looked at nudist magazines until his mind reeled and his groin ached. He also found himself looking at women and girls with an entirely different attitude. There was one eighteen-year-old in the typing pool who was known as the office flirt. She had a good figure and really threw it around. He would sit in his office with the door open and watch her and daydream about taking her and introducing her to the Johnsons. Why not? He would shake himself from his lewd daydream and turn back to his work. It seemed to him that he had an erection most of his waking hours.
The Johnsons had exposed a side of him that he had never dared think much about. Now that this Mr. Hyde side of his personality was exposed, he didn't quite know what to make of it. And he was troubled. Something was wrong.
He was troubled as he peeked through the crack of the bathroom door and watched his wife undress. His cock jerked as he watched her standing naked in stockings, unsnapping her garter belt. Her flesh, her buttocks and groin were bracketed by sheer cloth that only called attention to her nakedness rather than hiding it. And as she bent over the basin and lathered her face with soap, he thrilled to the way her large breasts shook from side to side. As he watched, he could see her arms rub against her nipples, which instantly grew tense and pointed. Her buttocks quivered enticingly as she bent over and scrubbed hard. As she bent, he could see just the beginnings of her vagina and the deep tight fold of her vulva lips. He found himself standing with his iron-hard cock in his hand, wishing she would bend over just a little more.
As if by ESP, Anne bent forward farther, spreading her legs slightly as she rinsed her face. Jeff practically flattened his face against the door frame to see his wife's vagina. There it was, the rich soft vaginal lips, rounded and covered with blonde pubic hair, neatly framed between her lovely buttocks that were like twin globes of warm flesh that he wanted to seize and violate. Between her vaginal lips was the tight dark mystery-slit of her cunt. His mouth practically watered as he imagined that slit all fluted and ragged, spread wide with her red moist cunt twitching as if it had a life of its own.
Anne began toweling her face, and he hastily retreated to his bedside, pulling on the tops of his pajamas. Soon, he told himself, soon.
And it was soon. Too soon. Friday night rolled around with Anne dressing and yakking away about the Johnsons. During the week she had had many conversations with Carol, and now regarded her as a dear friend. Jeff dressed as if in a trance. He tried to be polite and offhand, yet he was nervous and his fingers trembled and wouldn't respond when he tried to tie his shoes.
Finally dressed, with Anne in the bathroom, putting the finishing touches on her makeup, he looked at himself in the full-length, closet-door mirror. He stood there, a young man, good-looking. If you were to see him on the street, he would look like a nice normal young man with a good build. The kind of guy most mothers would want their daughters to date and perhaps marry. Yet here he was, Jeff Haines, about to take his wife to the house of a married couple for the purposes of seduction and depravity.
He stood looking at himself, frightened. How were they going to do it? They seemed so sure, but supposing it didn't work? And supposing it did? What then? He was frightened, yet he was excited. A driving need in him propelled him on. His feelings about Anne, sex, all people, had undergone an immense transformation since that one evening at the Johnsons'. Although, he hadn't yet assimilated and made coherent all those feelings, he had changed. He would go ahead with what seemed like certain disaster, trusting his drive and need more than reason and logic.
Still some little thing nagged at him. He had tried to think of it all week long and the thing, the thought that was so elusive, was like a carrot on a stick, forever dangled in front of his nose, but never quite reached.
It wasn't until they were halfway to the Johnsons', driving on the freeway before he thought of it. The answer was so simple and direct, so in front of him that he had overlooked it, thinking there must be something more complicated. The answer was there: Carol had lied to Anne! The whole dinner was a pretext, a trick! And wasn't it Carol who had made such a production about being honest, claiming he was the liar?
No matter what they said, no matter how much their arguments had battered down his resistance and left him befuddled and ashamed of his lying, they were now lying! If they could lie to Anne, they could lie to him. It could be they were doing nothing else than using both of them for their own obscene purposes.
It was with the greatest anxiety of his life that he "pretended" to find the Johnson home and pull up in their driveway. He turned the ignition off, put on the emergency brake, and turned to his wife, his face blank, the scalp on his head Dulling tight as a snare drum. His hand was still on the ignition as he asked, "Are you sure you want to do this?"
Anne's pretty frown was teasing. "Of course. Jeff, is there something wrong?"
His lips actually fluttered as he had the impulse to tell her everything, spill the whole thing out right there and take the consequences and live with himself. But he couldn't. Instead, he said, "Huh? No. Been a tough week, that's all. Ready?"
They walked to the door together with Jeff like a taut wire, ready to snap and fly off in all directions. He touched the button for the bell as if it were a detonator on a boobytrap bomb. Chimes rang, and then they stood in nervous silence. There was a rapid click of heels inside, and the door flew open, and there stood a smiling Carol Johnson. Behind her, walking toward the door through the foyer, was a beaming Rick. "And you're Anne!" Carol cried. "Welcome to our home!"
Anne entered while Jeff had trouble keeping his mouth from hanging open. He entered the house slowly, looking around. It was the same tastefully and expensively furnished house as before with its share of modern art and fine oiled Danish-modern furniture, but the residents, Rick and Carol, were impostors. Before him was Carol, offering her hand, saying, "Jeff, it's so good to see you again. And I must say Anne is certainly prettier than you painted her."
"Huh? Oh, yeah."
Rick came forward, giving Jeff a firm handshake and saying, "Good to see you again, Jeff. How's it going?"
Earlier, when Anne had dressed, he had watcher her and thought of how out of place she would look with Carol. She was wearing a blue cocktail dress that was more than modest, it was almost middle-aged. He had never liked the outfit because it made Anne look dumpy almost and he could just see her next to Carol who would probably be wearing some crazy thing that clung to her, revealing more than it hid. She wasn't. Jeff looked at her in disbelief. She was wearing a loose fuzzy sweater, a tweed skirt that came down to her knees, and loafers. Loafers! Jeff almost spurted. Rick was dressed in a pair of black slacks, a white shirt, and dark tie. Only a knowing wink that he slipped Jeff when the women weren't looking told the truth.
They walked through the house with the women yakking and Rick acting like a perfect host, asking about Jeff's job and commenting on his own and making small talk about the weather.
"And this," Carol said with a wave of her hand, "is the bar. It's also our game room and we sometimes watch TV here while we have an evening cocktail. Do you watch TV much?" she asked Anne cordially.
Anne smiled shyly. "No, I'm afraid we don't. Just the news and some specials if they look like they're going to be interesting."
"Aren't you lucky?" Carol said, the perfect Westchester matron. "We have to watch it because Rick's in television. I agree with you, most of the programs are boring."
"Television?" Anne said, raising her eyebrows and turning to smile at Rick. "That must be interesting." Rick leveled a friendly smile at her. "Sometimes. Lot of problems involved in getting a projection off the ground."
Yeah, Jeff thought, and into bed too.
"How about a cocktail before supper? Rick has a wonderful concoction he makes. Jeff?" Carol asked, poised and smiling.
"Huh? Sure." He couldn't quite believe Carol. She was some actress. Even the throaty voice was gone with only an attractive hint of it left.
"Anne, would you like one?" Rick asked with all the politeness and gravity of a head waiter at the Plaza. "Just one, a weak one. One is my limit."
Rick rubbed his hands together as he disappeared behind the bar. "Leave it to me. Wait until you've tasted it."
"What is it?" Anne asked, walking toward the bar to see what he was doing as he marshaled bottles, ice and a shaker.
"It's called a Fonder."
"Fonder?" Anne knitted her brows and cocked her head quizzically. "Like Fonda? Henry Fonda?"
Rick gave her a warm smile as he bent to his task. "No, fonder. As in," and he paused to give Jeff a knowing glance, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder."
Jeff got his message and his heart beat faster. He recognized the unlabeled bottle Rick was pouring from. He felt exactly like a paratrooper, a raw rookie, standing at the open door of a plane and about to jump into eternity.
"Let's sit at the bar like we're a bunch of old boozers," Carol said, swinging onto a barstool, the very same barstool she had sat on before.
Anne giggled and sat next to her. "First time in my life I've ever been on a barstool. Whenever we go to a bar, which isn't often, Jeff makes me sit in a booth. He doesn't like to see women sitting at a bar."
Carol's composure cracked for the first time all evening. Her eyes crinkled and she bit her lower lip to keep from laughing. Like hell he doesn't, she wanted to say. Instead, she agreed. "Rick's the same way. Actually, I have to agree with him and Jeff. I hate to see a woman sitting at a bar by herself."
"Me too," Anne agreed.
"Still, I don't mind doing it at home. After all, it is private here and it is kind of fun. Kind of naughty." Anne giggled and nodded her head.
"Sometimes, just for the fun of it, I sit here with a cigarette and a drink and pretend I'm a prostitute or a loose woman," Carol said, her eyes all wide and innocent.
Anne went into gales of laughter, hiding her face behind her hands. Jeff got a coughing fit and Rick broke into a broad smile as he poured the drinks. "The way women act," he said, shaking his head.
"It's true!" Carol protested. "Honest! I do it, but only with my husband."
"Here we are, ladies," Rick said, setting cocktail glasses in front of them and handing one to Jeff. Taking up his own glass, he held it up, proposing a toast. "Here's to an interesting and rewarding evening for all of us."
They all drank, Jeff and Rick draining their glasses and Carol and Anne sipping theirs. Anne smacked her lips and said, "My, that tastes good. What is it?"
"A Fonder."
Again Anne laughed. She was getting to like Rick. He was so handsome and virile and certainly charming. "No, I mean, what's in it?"
Rick wagged a finger. "It isn't fair to ask a bartender his secrets, it's only fair to enjoy them. Drink up." Anne drank again. "It's sweet and warm going down. I like this."
"Here," Rick said, picking up the shaker, "let me top your drink off."
Anne tried to demure. "Oh, I don't want to get drunk."
"Drunk?" Carol said, shrugging. "These are mild. I could have half a dozen and not feel a thing." "They are good. They taste so strange," Anne said, sipping her drink.
"Kind of feels good all the way down, doesn't it?" Carol suggested. "All the way down into the pit of your stomach."
"I'll say," Anne answered, squirming on her stool and turning to look at her husband. "Does it have the same effect on you?"
Jeff slid onto a stool next to her. "I'll say. Let's have another," he said to Rick with a boldness. It might have been the association, the memories of having drunk absinthe only a short week ago, it might have only been that and nothing more, but Jeff was beginning to feel a distinct sexual feeling already. Rick must have made the drinks extra strong, he reasoned. Deep down in him he was beginning to feel an itch combined with a syrupy looseness and a desire to talk smutty. And, the way Anne was shifting on the stool, the way she tried to hide the movement, he could tell she was beginning to feel something, too.
"So," Jeff said, fingering his glass, "tell me more about how you feel when you sit at the bar."
Carol leaned around Anne. "Oh, it's nothing really. Just, sometimes I've wondered what it must be like to be a prostitute. Have you ever wondered about that?" she asked, turning to Anne.
Anne mused on the thought and slowly felt her face splitting in a smile. "Yes, I have. I've wondered what kind of women do such a thing and, yes," she added with a little giggle, "I've wondered what it would be like."
"Exactly," Carol said. "Every women wonders." Turning to Anne, she said, "Listen, enough of these things and maybe we'll put on a show for our husbands. Pretend we're a couple of women out on the town."
Anne giggled and fought for self-control. "I don't know what's getting into me. What's in these drinks?" she asked in a confused way. "I feel so strange."
"Nothing that will do you any harm," Rick said, holding the shaker over her glass.
"No, no more for me. I've had enough."
"But, there's only a little left and we're way ahead of you," he protested.
Anne relented, fanning her face. She looked around at the others and wondered if they were feeling the way she was. For the first time since she had had too much champagne on their wedding night, she was feeling sexy. A lubricated itching was deep in her vagina, an itching that was growing more intense by the minute, and the more she furtively moved on the stool the more intense the feeling became. She hooked the heel of her shoe in the stool rung and squeezed her knees tight together until she felt a tingling sensation in her crotch and one corner of her panty band slipped and a vaginal lip slowly bulged out. It felt strange and... good.
But the itching would not go away and her head was feeling strangely giddy. She could hear everything and respond to conversation, but she felt as if something was slipping away. And things that Carol was saying was making her giggle uncontrollably. They were smutty things, but funny.
She drained her glass and only mildly protested as Rick refilled it, taking advantage of the distraction to squirm forward on the barstool, wedging the band of her panties into the crack of her vagina. It felt so good, so warm and... moist.
They laughed and drank and she watched Carol as she did an imitation of what she thought a prostitute would be like, lowering her eyes and smiling over her shoulder at Jeff while they all laughed.
"Let's see you do it, Anne," Carol said. "Go on. Pretend Rick is a potential customer."
"Oh, I couldn't!"
"Oh, come on, it's all in fun. No harm in it."
"No," Anne said, shaking her head and her face turning a slow crimson. "I couldn't do a thing like that." Rick pretended to be hurt. "What's the matter with me? Something wrong with me?"
"Oh, no!" Anne said. "It's just that... well... I've never done a thing like that before."
"I should hope not!" Jeff said, and they all laughed.
"Come on," they all urged. "What's so wrong with that? It's all in fun."
Anne smiled embarrassedly down at her drink. How did all this get started, she wondered. They were all such nice people and it was a lovely house and why not, why not just do it? After all, it was only in fun. An excited feeling seemed to shoot through her body and she could feel her vaginal lips swelling around the now wedged band of her panties which was pressing on the slit of her cunt and beginning to rub against her clitoris. She crossed her legs and squeezed them tight and felt another thrill course through her body. It was a thrill so powerful and dark that it frightened her. "All right," she said, not lifting her eyes. "Just in fun."
The room was silent and still with Anne staring down at her drink. She drank once more, then lifted her eyes to see Rick leaning on the bar, staring back at her with a serious look in his eyes. She gave him a slow provocative smile with her eyes half closed, and shocked herself by letting her mouth open just a little bit and the tip of her tongue lick out and wet her lips.
They all broke into laughter and began applauding her as she hid her face in her hands and squealed, "I don't know why I'm behaving this way!"
"Listen, if you were a hooker, you would've made me," Rick said.
"Let's have another round," Carol said. "The party is getting interesting."
"No. No more for me. I've had too much already," Anne protested, pushing away from the bar. She couldn't look at Rick. Something had happened when she had smiled at him as if she were a prostitute on the make. For a split second, she was on the make. It was the first time in her life she had done such a thing. For one wild moment she saw Rick Johnson as an extremely handsome man, and she wanted him. She wanted him in a physical way. She was shaken, and all of them could tell by her tone that she wouldn't have anything more to drink.
"I think we've had enough of the happy hour," Carol said, slipping off the stool. "Dinner isn't ready yet, but why don't we get more comfortable?" She led the way to the couch and chairs, and Anne sat in the very chair over which Rick had so obscenely fucked Carol while she sucked Jeff's cock.
Carol left the room, heading for the kitchen, and Anne found herself looking at Rick as he and Jeff talked. He was tall and heavy, and it looked as if he had a very powerful physique, and she found herself wondering what kind of penis he had. She silently chided herself. It wasn't like her to think that way.
It was that itching deep in her groin. It was growing, and she thought of excusing herself, going to the bathroom, and relieving it in some way. Yet how? Stick something up there? Her face turned scarlet again as she thought of what she could do, and she longed for the night to be over so she could get home with Jeff. She sat back in the chair, twisting her hips ever so slightly, wedging the tight band of her panties even deeper into her crotch. She could feel its moistness now and knew she was making the panties damp. Still, it felt good, relieving her for a moment. But no sooner did she stop than the feeling was on her again, more demanding then before.
Carol came back from the kitchen carrying a plate full of some kind of sweets. "This will keep us from starving until dinner is ready." She held the plate in front of Anne.
"What are they?"
"Some candies we had flown in from Egypt. Rick was over there on location for a picture and he tasted some. They were so good, we decided to have some flown in. Try one," Carol urged.
Anne selected one and looked at it closely. It was a darkish brown square that looked like molasses or a kind of maple sugar. She took a bite and found the taste intriguing. It was a musky flavor, strong and piercingly sweet. There was a grainy taste, too, as if something, some kind of fruit or vegetable, had been ground up in the candy.
They sat eating them in silence. Anne looked at her husband then at Rick. They seemed to be exchanging a look of some kind of mutual understanding, and the room seemed uncomfortably quiet. "That's very good," she said, looking at Rick and trying to hide her interest. "What do they call it?"
Rick chewed and swallowed, picking up another candy. "It's some Arab name I can't pronounce, but, translated, it literally means a mixture, a kind of sweet hash or anything goes confection. They put all kinds of stuff in them. Each one is different. Here, try another." He held the plate out, and Anne took another and bit into it. It was different. It had a kind of smoky alcohol flavor.
After finishing the second piece, she had to sigh to catch her breath and, vaguely, she knew something was wrong. She looked around the room at her husband and at the Johnsons. They were all silent and smiling at her, and their eyes were shining abnormally. She looked around the room. It seemed different somehow. It was difficult to concentrate, and she looked back at Jeff, blinking. "What did you say?"
Jeff laughed, and the laugh didn't sound like him. "I didn't say anything."
"You didn't? Who did?"
All three of them laughed and said, "Maybe it was you!"
It all seemed very funny, and she laughed hard, rocking in her chair and unconsciously allowing her dress to slip above her knees. She finally got control of herself and stopped laughing long enough to realize that the itching had gone. In its place was a hot wet feeling. Under her dress, her cunt was split wide open now and had wet the band of her panties. Her groin was hot and it was suddenly hot in the room.
"What were we talking about?" she asked.
"I don't remember," Carol said, her voice getting husky and vague. "Oh! I was going to tell you! Rick got a smoker film today!"
"Smoker?" Anne asked, her tongue thick and her eyes half closed.
"A stag film. Couples having sex. You know."
"I've never seen one," Jeff said.
"A stag film? You mean... a... dirty picture?" Anne asked.
"Yes! Have you ever seen one?" Carol asked with a kind of unfocussed enthusiasm.
"No, no, I haven't. I don't think I want to," Anne said stiffly.
"Carol, for God's sake," Rick said, shifting on the couch. "Explain the whole thing. You're making me look like some kind of monster." He sat up and smiled at Anne. "We found this kid down at the studio with this film, see? He works for usor, rather, he did until we discovered him with this film. He was using our laboratory and equipment to process the film and we caught him and fired him. Until we know what to do with the film, I'm to keep it. I didn't want to keep it at work so I brought it home and made the mistake of telling old blabbermouth here."
"But I want to see it and he won't let me," Carol said with a pout.
"Nothing doing," Rick said. "If Jeff wants to see it, okay, I'll run it for him, but not for you two." "Have you ever seen one?" Carol asked Anne.
"No. No, of course not."
"Haven't you ever been just a little bit curious?" Carol asked, an impish look in her eyes. "Like when you wondered what prostitutes are like?"
"That's different," Anne said.
"How?" Carol was becoming more animated, more like her old self, her voice lowering as her eyes glazed over. She handed Anne another piece of candy.
"I... I don't know," Anne said, her voice going vague. She had to concentrate to remember what it was she was voicing doubt about. She bit into the candy and smacked her lips over its sweetness. "I... I... couldn't." "Well, I want to and I'm going to. You can go out to the living room or kitchen while we all watch." "Oh, no, none of that," Rick said. "Just me and Jeff, that's all."
"Listen, Mr. Johnson," Carol said, flaring, and Jeff again saw the Carol he had fucked and who had sucked his cock in such a greedy, voracious way. Her politeness was dropping away to be replaced by that wild sluttishness of hers. "This is my house as much as yours, and don't be telling me to take a powder. I have as much right to see that film as anyone else. Don't be making rules without consulting or even considering me. I will not be treated like a servant or some second class citizen."
Rick looked at her and laughed. "Okay, if you feel that strongly about it, what do you suggest?"
"Well, how about if the women watch it for a change while the men go play cards or drink coffee? Have you ever thought about what it is like to be excluded? Try it. Let the women watch while the men sit it out."
Rick looked at Jeff then at Anne. "Okay. I don't mind. Since you're being so fair, don't you think you should ask your guests? I mean, they might not want to see it. Anne, I think, isn't sophisticated enough for a thing like that."
Anne sat in a lulling stupor, feeling her groin pulsating with pleasure, making her want to do a thing to herself she hadn't done in years; she wanted to go off somewhere and strip naked and put her fingers and hands on her vagina and caress herself. However, Rick's words and tone shot through her reverie like a cannonball through a wall of butter. The words stung deep, and she shot a glance at him. She had thought he was nice. She had liked him, been attracted to him, and now he was condescending to her in the rudest way. Her vanity made her jut her pert jaw and say, "Nobody asked me, but I'd like to see this film with Carol."
Rick shrugged and looked at Jeff questioningly. "It's all right with me. How about you?"
"Huh? Sure, fine."
"Okay, it's settled. Us boys will go to the kitchen and peel potatoes while you girls live it up. Want me to set up the screen and projector or do you feel sufficiently emancipated to do it yourself?"
Carol was flippant and flirting, her voice low and easy as she said, "You could be a gentleman and set the stag up for the girls."
Anne giggled nervously. The situation was out of hand and she couldn't even remember when or how it started getting out of hand. She put her hand to her head, hiding her eyes. Surely those drinks were more powerful than she had thought. Here she was, bluffed, bewildered, finding herself bristling at words and talking herself into watching a sex film. She didn't want to watch the filmand yet, she did. She did! Something in her was sliding away; something in the back of her mind was asking: what is wrong with seeing it just once?
She couldn't concentrate her thoughts long enough to think of an answer one way or another, for she was constantly aware of a growing feeling spreading all through her body. An energy, a demanding, a feeling of... lust! It was sweeping through her body, seeming to center in her groin in an aching way that felt so very, very good and to spread out into her arms and thighs and legs and make her feel warm all over. Why not see the film? It was as if a small voice were whispering in her ear, an inner ear and a voice that only she could hear, and it seemed as if she were hearing it quite clearly now as the words sounded in her brain and mingled with the feeling in her body and heightened it still more. After all, the voice went on, it will be all right so long as the men aren't here, too. She turned her head and smiled at Carol, who was looking at her intently. Carol's look, the dim lights suddenly around them and the feelingthat yammering overriding feeling made her pump her hips ever so slightly and she felt the tight band of her panties rub against her clitoris.