Chapter 5

Life moved swiftly for Mark and Tammy as it tends to do. They settled into a domestic scene, and the years moved on.

Mark, of course, kept up his part of the bargain, and clothed the young blonde like a princess, and found her a fine position on Seventh Avenue. At seventeen years of age, the willful young woman was pulling in nearly a million dollars a year in sales for the sportswear line she represented. Of course, the million dollars didn't belong to her. But she made a nice salary.

And the fact that the young blonde was a very wealthy lady did tend to change the living situation for Mark. He was a kept man. When he had chanced upon the little blonde in the park, he never imagined that it would lead to this. He would be surprised by later developments as well.

At thirty three years of age, Mark was beginning to mellow somewhat. It had taken him nearly a year to complete the preliminary research on the novel, and most of his time was now spent at home, typing, and typing, and typing. He was working towards the end of his first draft. With over one thousand manuscript pages stacked on his writing desk, he faced a lot of revising, and more typing. The way he figured it, he had another year of work ahead of him. And then would come the arduous task of visiting publishing houses-trying to find a market. He had a few contacts, but in the publishing business, friendships are only good for opening the door. There's too much money involved to roll the dice, even for a friend.

He assumed that the publishing houses wouldn't want to take a chance with him, not so much because the book wasn't good (Mark thought it was a work of genius), but because of a rather graphic approach to sexuality. He had purposely decided to make the novel as much like real life as possible. Hence, the sex scenes were carefully described. So much so, that there would be a problem.

Yet, with Tammy pulling in the big bucks, and his portfolio of bonds and common stock, Mark figured he could always go ahead with his original plan to publish the book himself.

All through those years, Mark persistently searched the house for the contract he had made with Tammy. It wasn't that he wanted out of it, it's just that he couldn't believe she could have hidden it so well that it was-impossible to find. But she apparently had. He couldn't find it.

"So, my little writer," she said coming home from the office one evening, "how is the epic coming?"

"You know it's brilliant," he said, getting up from the typewriter. "In fact, I'm sure it will be a best seller."

"I've been making some friends that might be of use to you."

"Such as?"

"Oh, mostly the wives and mistresses of some hot shot publishers," she winked. "I'm looking out for you, kid."

"That sounds funny, coming from a seventeen-year-old girl."

"Why don't we admit how it really is?"

"Oh, and how is that?"

"I think you are the one who is the little kid," Tammy said. "I felt that even the day we met."

"Well, I often have thought women were more together than men," he smiled. "That's why you're taking care of me."

"It's not only out of love, my sweet," she smiled, removing her sable coat, and tossing it over the sofa. "You're an investment for me. That's why I take such good care of you."

"What sort of an investment."

"The novel, of course."

"Oh, I thought maybe you were investing in my love, or companionship, or even friendship."

"Oh, that's all a lot of bunk," she laughed. "We get along okay. We still have a good sex life. You have time to write without worrying about money. And I have a nice man around to play with."

"Oh, you have a wonderful way of putting things, my dear."

"Why thank you."

"I was being sarcastic."

"How so, my dear?

"Oh, get off it," he pined. "You know I'm in love with you. I was from the day I met you."

"I thought it was only my precious little ass you were after."

"You know that's not true."

"What is it you want?"

"I'm not sure. That's the problem."

"If you ask me, you and all other artists are just cracked. You get so absorbed in your work that you absolutely forget about life. Why not just live it?"

"It's not as good as art. With art, I get lost. It's like a drug. Everything else stops."

"Everything else is life," she said. "That means that you just don't like life."

"Oh, I like life," he said. "Look at it this way: I like writing the same way you like making a lot of money down on Seventh Avenue."

"But I don't like it all the time. I think it's sick how you get so absorbed in your writing. We hardly ever go out anymore."

"You're right." he said. "I really do lose sight of reality. Is there any hope for me?"

"I don't know," she said, pulling her skirt up to her hips.

"What are you doing."

"I'm showing you my new garter belt."

She was sitting back in the black velvet covered sofa, with her legs spread slightly, and her apricot-colored satin garter belt shimmering. She was wearing black hose, and black lace panties.

"You like?"

"Yea," he sighed, "I like fine."

Mark knelt before her on the carpet, and stared hungrily between her parted thighs. He could see her blonde bush pushing through against the black lace panties.

The young blonde had developed rather dramatically since she was fifteen. Her breasts had filled out somewhat thought they remained fundamentally small and she had developed slight hips. Her face had gained in character. She was a very stunning young woman, and the handsome, but rather crazy, writer felt proud to share his life with her.

"I love your garter belt," he sighed.

"How about a quickie, my silly friend?"

"Why a quickie?"

"Because I have a date in an hour, and I don't want to be sexually tense."

"Are you serious?"

"Serious about what?"

"Do you really have a date?"

"I have no reason to lie."

"And you want to make love with me, so you won't be nervous with him?"

"Her."

"Her?"

"Yea, I'm not cheating on you with a man, sugar. I've decided to try girls." Tammy had, thus far in the relationship, remained true to Mark. This was a new wrinkle.

"Why do you want to do that?"

"Oh, it's the rage on Seventh Avenue to get it on with chicks," she smiled. "I don't want to be out of step."

"What sort of reason is that?"

"Just kidding. My, but you are the possessive type. But, I think you'll like Pinky. That's her name. She's twenty, redheaded, and so very sexy. She's a top model. And I feel a sexual attraction to her. I think I should act on it. And besides, even if I did want to go out with men, I have a perfect right. You don't own me. Actually, I do think I'm the one who owns you."

"You're a little bitch, you know that?"

"Why call names?"

"Because that's what you are."

"Listen, pal," the spoiled girl sniffed, "I really don't feel like a scene. I want to be calm for my date. I have enough to be nervous about anyway."

"Why don't you give me a break, lady? I have enough on my mind without you playing little girl games with me."

"Don't slander me, sweetie," she smiled. "I'll tell you What," she glanced at her $2,000 wrist watch, "I still have an hour before I meet with Pinky. How about if you give me a nice pussy licking, just to relax me. Would you like that?"

"Of course I would," he was furious with her, but much too much in love with her to chance making a scene. He liked it much more when she was dependent on him.

"And if you are real good," she said, "I'll give you a little treat."

"like what?"

"How about a nice ass fuck, you pervert?"

"Isn't that a bit like the pot calling the kettle black?"

"Let's not discuss it," she sniffed, "is it a deal or not. I can just as easily frig myself. I really don't know why I put up with you. You are such a bore, Mark."

"Okay, okay," he said. "I'm not going to be proud. We haven't made love in a week."

"You know I've been busy," she said. "It's market week, and it's been so hectic this season."

"Yea, yea. Well, here, or in the bedroom?"

"Here's fine," she said, unsnapping her garter, and pulling her lace panties and stockings down to her ankles.

Mark stared hungrily at the pubic mound.

Her light fuzz delighted him. He could see her pink pussy lips, and the head of her clitoris pressing out past the down.

"I am looking forward to this," she smiled. "I wonder if Pinky will suck pussy as well as you?"

"I hope not," he said proudly. "I would like to think that there is at least one thing you need from me."

"Well, we'll see," she sighed, pulling herself forward on the sofa so her pussy was exposed, and flush with the edge of the cushion.

"I'll really enjoy this," Mark said, placing his hands under her firm ass, and lifting her up to his hungry mouth. She sighed with pleasure as his lips moved about the pubic mound, kissing her pussy, and the inside of her thighs.

"Oh, you are such a tender sucker," she moaned. "I'm getting so horny. Put your tongue inside, and swirl it around. Oh, yea. You are such a sweet little pussy licker."

"I aim to please," Mark was trying to remain calm, despite the fact the young woman was tormenting his pride.

Lifting her up further against his face, his tongue worked lovingly over her gash, and pressed against her clit, and probed the depths of her sexuality.

She was panting with excitement, and pressed her hand inside her blouse to toy with her sensitive breast. She squeezed her nipple, while hot juices began to flow freely from her orifice.

"Oh, you sweet licker," she moaned, "you are going to make me come. Be gentle now. That's right. Take my clit in your mouth. Suck it, you sweetheart. Oh, I love it. That's it. Faster. Oh, yea."

She began pumping smoothly against the writer's mouth, caught in the powerful grip of completed sexuality. Taking her hand from her blouse, she ran her fingers through his hair, and directed his tongue movements against her throbbing sex.

"Oh, keep sucking," she moaned, beginning to writhe on the soft sofa. "You make me so excited. I really don't know if I'll ever be able to replace you."

Her words cut deep into his heart, but he didn't let her know. He wondered why she enjoyed tormenting him so much. She knew he would never turn on her. At least she figured as much. And it wasn't only because of the incriminating contract. The fact that he loved her had a lot to do with it. Love often makes fools of men.

"That's enough," she swooned. "I'm beginning to perspire. I don't want to be sweaty for my date."

"Sometimes," he said, raising his dew-covered mouth from her opening, "I don't know why I put up with you. You've become a tyrant."

"No name calling, my dear," she smiled, standing up, and pulling her panties back up to her hips. "I enjoyed that immensely."

"What about me?"

"What?"

"You said that if I sucked your pussy, you would give me treat."

"Oh, yes, I sure did," she said, glancing at her watch. "Well, I do want to be a person of my word."

"That's awfully nice of you," he was beginning to feel anger boiling inside. "Don't be a smartie."

"I've about had it with you," he could feel the veins on his forehead begin to swell with anger. "Now, pull down your panties, and turn around, b "Temper, temper," she smiled.

But Mark wasn't in the mood for playing this S&M game any further. Grabbing the girl, he spun her around, pulled her panties back down, and forced her head down on the cushion.

"Cut out the rough stuff," she shouted. "Let's at least enjoy this."

"I will, that's for sure," he said, opening his trousers, and pulling his erect organ out. "I'm going to enjoy this immensely."

"Can't we at least use a little vaseline."

"Fat chance, bitch."

"Oh, you cruel tormentor. You think you are such a tough guy, picking on a seventeen-year-old girl?"

"You aren't the run-of-the-mill seventeen-year-old, and you know it."

"Oh, God," she winced, "I'm all tense and dry back there. Please, at least use some spit."

"Shut up," he shouted, pressing his massive erection up against the tight lettle opening. "I'm going to enjoy every painful inch of this."

"You are a sick person, you know that?"

"No sicker than you," he shouted, pressing the head of his cock up her still-tight hole.

"Shit, that hurts, you mother-fucker."

But he didn't answer her. He shoved harder and harder, and paid no attention to her blood-curdling cries of pain.

"I can't take it," she screamed. "You're killing me."

"Hardly," he grunted, "just buggering you."

Mark held her firmly by the hips, holding her skirt aloft, as he pressed his way all the way into the hot hole.

"Please," she began to weep, "pull out of me. I can't take it. It hurts."

Mark wasn't listening. He was pumping fast and furious in and out of the tight hole. She was whining with severe pain. Cramps wracked her belly. Still, the young man plunged in and out of her.

"Oh, it does feel good," he moaned, oblivious to the pain he was rendering the young woman.

Suddenly, he groaned, and gyrating his pelvis madly, pressed his cock in to the hilt. He began spraying her insides with hot semen.

She was limp from the pain of the forced sodomy, and as Mark pulled his stick from her behind, she collapsed on the couch, tears rolling down her face.

"I don't know why I put up with you," she sat up, wiping the tears from her eyes. "You are so cruel."

"I just have needs, too, you know?"

"And don't I take care of your needs?"

"Not really."

"Didn't I let you suck me? I told you I was in a hurry."

"You wanted me to suck you because you were nervous. I did it for you, not for me. And you told me I could fuck you in the ass, and then you tried to get out of it. Well, enough is enough!"

"Okay, okay," she said, standing up, and pressing her finger against her anus. "I hope you didn't tear anything."

"I'm sure you'll live."

"I don't like it without lubricant. You know that."

He followed the young woman into the bathroom, and watched as she washed the semen from her anus with a moistened wash cloth. She splashed her pussy with water, and wiped herself dry, before adjusting her panties and garter belt.

"When will you be home?" he followed her to the door.

"Don't wait up for me."

"Oh, so it's like that?"

"Wait until you meet Pinky," she sighed. "She's so cute. You'll understand."

"Sure."

"Don't pout," she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "All is forgiven. Tomorrow, well drive up to Buffalo."

"What?"

"Yea, I think it's time I dropped in on my old man," she winced. "It's been two years."

"I thought you hated his guts."

"I do, but there are some things of my mother's that I want."

"So, what do you need me for?"

"You'll understand when you meet the guy. He'll probably be drunk. And he might be violent."

"How interesting."

"See, I do need you, my sweet."

"Sure."

"Isn't it nice to be wanted?"

"Give me a break," he slammed the door shut behind her. And then raced through the apartment, looking for the contract.

"That fucking little bitch," he screamed, "I'm going to find that piece of paper and rip it up. I don't need her anymore. I don't have to take this abuse. Where the fuck is that fucking thing?"

But he couldn't find it. And as angry as he was, he wasn't about to face the possibilities of going to prison for having sexual affairs with a fifteen-year-old girl.

He smoked a joint, relaxed, and went back to work on his novel.

Sometime during the night, the struggling, and much obsessed writer, fell asleep with his head on the typewriter. It was very early in the morning that Tammy returned. And she wasn't alone. Pinky was with her. And they were a little drunk.

Tammy tip-toed up to the passed-out writer, and shook him gently by the shoulder. "Wake-up, I want you to meet my friend."

Mark opened his eyes, and stared up at Tammy. "What kind of shit do you want to give me now?"

"No shit, sweetheart," she smiled. "I just want you to meet my new friend, Pinky."

Mark got out of his chair, and looked up at the most beautiful redhead he had ever seen. Their eyes flashed as they looked. at each other. An emotional bond was instantly formed.

"Mark Browning, I would like you to meet Pinky Pinkham."

"A pleasure," he smiled.

"We would have gone to Pinky's but she's living with two other girls, and we wanted some privacy."

"Well, our home is your home," Mark said.

"You don't mind sleeping on the couch tonight, do you?" Tammy asked Mark.

"Yes, of course I do," he said. "I need a good night's sleep. I have to re-work chapter one in the morning."

"But you must understand that we want to be alone."

"Oh, very well," Mark wasn't in the mood to make a scene in front of the lovely redhead. He looked over at her, admiring her extraordinary beauty. Her long strawberry-blonde hair hung nearly to her waist, her green eyes danced with delight as she smiled at the unhappy writer. She was dressing in a full-length mink, but Mark could tell by the way she carried herself that she was a well-built woman.

"Tammy," she said, "it's okay with me if Mark shares the-bed with us. I'm not shy."

"But I wanted this to be special," Tammy protested. "I wanted to be alone with you. But if you don't mind, we can always pretend that he's not there." Mark blushed with embarrassment, but Pinky smiled in a way, that showed that she understood. She wanted to be his friend.

"Oh, I don't want to be a party-pooper," he said. "If you girls really want to be alone...

"No, I think I would enjoy all of this if you were there. This is my first time with a woman, too. It would make me feel more secure if a man was around."

Tammy cast a strange look at Pinky. She felt that she was being pushed aside somewhat, there was a definite bond that had been formed between Mark and the gorgeous redhead, and it was her turn to feel a little jealous. But she wasn't.

"Well," he smiled, "there's no reason to go right off to bed. Why don't we smoke a joint and get to know each other? Tammy, do we still have any cocaine left?"

"Yea," she was beginning to feel a little jealous because of the warmth that Pinky showed Mark.

"Well, go and get the dope box."

Tammy didn't like following Mark's orders, but she didn't want the girl to think she was a total bitch, so she went off to the other room, and fetched the narcotics.

Mark helped Pinky off with her stole, and he draped it carefully over the back of the sofa. He stared with lustful intent at the extremely gorgeous young woman.

Pinky was a flashy dresser. She was wearing a pair of skin-tight black slacks, which outlined a very fine figure. She was tall, and extremely slender, and Mark couldn't take his eyes off her firm little ass. The pants were so tight, that her pussy lips pressed against the dark material, outlining the lovely snatch perfectly.

Her blouse was silver lame and was pulled tight at the waist by a belt, so that her breasts pressed out. She was larger of breast than Tammy, but still on the small side, as models tend to be.

"Are you writing something?"

"Yes, a novel," he said. "Didn't Tammy tell you?"

"No, she doesn't tell me anything."

"You mean, nothing about me."

"Why is she so cruel to you?"

"It turns her on, I guess," Mark blushed.

"But I'm not going to put up with it forever," he said. "It's just a short-term relationship. If things don't change, she'll be leaving soon. But don't tell her that, please."

"I won't."

"So, what are you talking about? Me probably," Tammy said as she came back into the living room, with the box of dope.

"No, actually, we were talking about Mark's new novel."

"You mean his only novel," she laughed. "He's been working on it for two years."

"A good novel takes time to write," Pinky smiled.

"Oh, do you know any other writers?" Mark asked.

"My father was a novelist," Pinky said.

"Oh, how interesting," Mark smiled, feeling a closer bond to the redhead. "Not Dunston Pinkham?"

"Yes," she smiled.

"Well, that's a fine family to come from," Mark enthused. "He won the Pulitzer Prize in the late Sixties, right?"

"Right."

"Sorry about his passing away."

"Well, we all have to go sometime," Pinky smiled.

"Okay, guys," Tammy interrupted, "I have the lines all ready. Let's snort some cocaine."

Pinky sat beside Mark on the sofa, purposely pressing her lean thigh against him. The writer could feel his penis harden with excitement as he felt her warmth against him, and smelled the lovely perfume she was wearing.

They each snorted up about four lines of coke, and were quite stoned, as Tammy led them to the bedroom.

It would be a good night. He smiled inwardly and felt good. He was very excited about the beautiful girl named Pinky Pinkham.