Chapter 11
Phil Blocker was troubled and he could see nothing to do but call a meeting. He had to have a council of war with the Colemans. He shook his head, seeing no way around it.
He had awakened just as it was getting dark and he was ravenous. Donna had made him a big breakfast of scrambled eggs, thick slabs of bacon, home fries, toast and coffee. He had taken a good long shower and then eaten, the coffee tasting good and awakening him. Donna had been tentative around him, trying not to look him in the eye. After all, she couldn't be sure he wouldn't disapprove of the way she had behaved. He let her know that, if anything, he was hotter for her now than he was before.
Once the ice was broken, Donna was eager to talk about it, to make new plans. "What are we going to do now?"
Phil shrugged. "Dunno. What do you want to do?"
Donna gave him a sidelong lewd glance. "Silly question."
He grinned up at her as he tore into the breakfast. "I'll give Jim a call in a little while."
"It won't do any good."
"Huh? Why?"
"I saw them leave, just as it was getting dark."
Phil sat tapping his fingers. Their leaving without saying anything, without calling, could be bad. Their leaving left them unavailable. "Were they dressed?"
"No, bare-ass naked. Of course they were dressed."
Again, Phil didn't say anything. Perhaps something was wrong. One, or both of them, was upset. Guilt-ridden. The best thing to do was nothing. Play it cool. Instinctively, he felt the wrong thing to do would be to pursue them. Better leave them alone. Don't avoid them but go about living and vacationing like nothing had happened. If they met, he would be pleasant and relaxed. He wouldn't bring anything up, but let them do it.
He smiled and dug into his eggs, crunching buttered toast in his mouth. He knew one thing: Anne Coleman was hooked. There was one big beautiful nymphomaniac, there was one well-stacked broad who really liked fucking. It was in her eyes, in that lewd grin that crept across her full soft lips, in her every liquid movement. She would be back. Maybe Jim was the reluctant or jealous one. If so, he would be easy to handle.
Jim was upset. He awoke in the late afternoon and lay still in wide-eyed amazement. Had he really done all those things? Was that really him? Did he dream all that happened or had he actually seen Donna Blocker sprawled lasciviously, stark naked, on top of her husband with her legs spread wide and Phil's prick buried in her anus and her cunt gaping and inviting? Did he really throw himself on her and, closing his eyes and throwing his head back and letting it loll from side to side, fuck her with a wild, brutal, all-out abandon?
He finally got up enough nerve to look out of the corner of his eye and see his wife lying next to him. What must she be thinking? She had seen him, her husband, have sex with another woman. She had seen that he obviously enjoyed it. What must she be thinking"! A new jolt of consciousness wracked him as he admitted to himself that she was something other than what he had married and led to believe existed. Reluctantly, he admitted that she had obviously enjoyed herself too. In fact, she had almost enjoyed herself a little bit too much. There is such a thing as overdoing it. Just let her accuse him of being unfaithful or dirty-minded. People who throw rocks shouldn't live in glass houses. No sir, not her.
He had worked himself up into a fine defense rage by the time he got up. To his surprise, Anne didn't mention the night before. In fact, she seemed uneasy, nervous, and eager to avoid any mention of the night before and the Blockers. They had dressed making formal, embarrassed, small-talk. Once, he had walked into the bathroom and caught her naked. Such a sight at any other time before last night wouldn't have bothered him. Yet, now, looking at her naked loins, he felt a wave of licentiousness come over him and he thought of forbidden pleasures. Then, remembering, he had stepped back, saying, "Oh. I'm sorry."
Once fully dressed, they tried not to look at each other, at each other's eyes. Anne turned on the TV and Jim looked through their meager library, muttering he had meant to bring a novel to read.
Anne's nervousness and restless energy grew. Finally, unable to bear it any more, she said, "Jim, let's go out."
Jim looked at her. "Where?"
"Anywhere. Go shopping for some silly present we don't really need but really want. Go shopping for clothes and go out to dinner. Go out to dinner to some place we've never been before. Maybe go into the city, spend one night of our time in the city. Do outlandish things like go to a play or movie. How about a movie? We haven't been to a good double-feature in a long time."
"That's right," Jim said. Her desperate gaiety was contagious. She was offering a flip, charming out, a way out, and why not? He shrugged. "Last double-feature was a two-bagger."
"Two bagger?"
"Two bags of popcorn apiece."
Remembering the time and how innocent and sane it all seemed, they both longed for a return to such a feeling. "Oh," Anne said, smiling, "let's do go!"
They left, never once mentioning or looking at the Blocker house, each with his thoughts.
And, no matter how they felt, Phil was going to have to break his silence and call them up. The four of them had to get together and decide what they were going to do about a problem that confronted them all.
Two days, two whole sunshining days and starry nights had gone by. Two days in which the Blockers only glimpsed the Colemans coming and going. Two days in which the couples went their separate ways, two whole days in which Anne and Jim talked about everything but the Blockers. At night they retired to their bed with the bedroom drapes tightly shut. Each night they lay awake, thinking, feeling, growing excited. The nights were long and their imaginations vivid.
Two days and Phil Blocker was sometimes caught frowning, looking off, thoughtful and troubled. Donna was quick to notice, fearing he was thinking of her and disapproving. "What's the matter?"
"Huh?" He roused himself and blinked at his wife. "Oh, nothing, just thinking."
"Beginner's luck."
"Huh?" He didn't seem to be paying much attention. He hadn't since the first morning after the orgy. They had gone to bed early, having sex while Donna thrilled and made mental plans. She found their relationship enriched, much more lascivious and lewd and ... pleasurable than it had been before the orgy.
Moreover, she found it was much easier for her to cum and her cumming was prolonged and much more intense. She found she could cum many times without much effort. All she did was abandon herself to whatever Phil wanted and dream of when they would all be together again.
Yet, it had happened that morning, Phil's change in mood. He had awakened early and was cocky and lewd and funny. He had taken his coffee out to the sundeck and there had met Frank Delasandro and the two of them had talked while Donna made breakfast. She could see them from the kitchen window, walking out on the catwalk and talking seriously, their heads bent together. Since that time, he had been quiet, serious, thoughtful and ... troubled.
Finally, he had gone to his wife, stood in front of her-actually, he towered over her-and said, "I'm calling the Colemans. We've got to get together with them and talk something over."
His mood told her not to make light of him, that something serious had happened. She looked at him for a long moment before saying, "Okay."
Jim answered the phone, the jangling sound making them both jump. They looked at one another with a strange look in their eyes; like they had been expecting the call for some time. He put the receiver to his ear like it was a bomb about to go off. "Hello?"
"Jim? This is Phil."
"Oh. Yeah, how are you?"
"Okay. Listen, I'm not in the mood for nice small-talk. I've got something important to tell you."
Jim's tones were measured. "Okay, shoot."
"I need to get together with you and Anne. Me and Donna. There's something we have to talk over."
"Sure. We'll do that sometime. Let me talk it over with Anne and see when it would-"
"Bull." Phil's voice cut in. "Look, this is urgent. I have to see you now."
"Well, what is it?"
Phil's voice was testy. "Look, come on over here or we'll come over there. I've got to talk to you."
"About what?" Jim insisted.
There was a pause. Then Phil's voice came, cold, clear, and slow. "Somebody knows about us."
Jim didn't say anything for a moment then, "Come on over."
"Be right there."
The phone clicked and Jim hung up, looking at his wife.
"You invited him over?" Anne asked, eyebrows raised.
"Yes." Jim stared back at her with a level gaze.
"Oh. I don't know that I'm ... that we ... that, well-"
"Somebody knows about us."
They were a sober and serious group that met, a complete contrast to the last time. Phil sat, all business, waving away the suggestion of a drink. He slapped his hands together. "Okay. Here's the story. Incidentally, Donna doesn't know much more than you do."
"Which isn't very much."
"Right," Phil agreed. "You'll see why in a minute. Now, getting to the point. Somebody knows about us. Somebody has seen us."
"In action?" Anne wanted to know. Somehow, her remark was funny and they all smiled.
Phil looked at her and nodded. "In action. All of it, everything. Also, he's seen us-me and Donna-in action and also you two. Seems you've been balling on the beach."
"Who?" Jim asked, his hand shaking slightly, fearing the worst, fearing it may be the authorities.
"Frank Delasandro."
"The dirty little snoop!" Donna spat out.
"That little rat!" Anne said, her eyes flashing.
Jim felt like swaggering. "I think I can take care of him."
Phil nodded. "Wait until you hear the whole story. He came around with the excuse of doing some carpentry for me. Got to talking. I know he's a notorious gossip and he's obviously, from the way he was acting and talking, got something big."
"I'll say. He's got big trouble!"
"Wait." Phil held out an open palm. "He came right out with it. Spit it right out with that fine Italian grin concealing the way he really felt. Told me in detail. Believe me, he saw us. No doubt. He's too accurate, he couldn't be guessing or making it up."
They looked at one another for a long moment, Phil's information sinking in. Anne was the first to speak, her face emotionless and white. "It serves us right for being so careless."
"Right." Jim agreed.
"Wrong," Phil snapped. "It was a risk we ran. We weren't lucky, that's all."
Jim cleared his throat. "Well, what are we going to do?"
"That's the problem. Naturally, Frank didn't tell me all he did just for the hell of it."
"Oh?" Donna looked worried.
"He wants something."
"Naturally," Jim said. "A little blackmailer. Wants money to keep quiet."
"More than that," Phil said calmly. "He took pictures."
"What?" They all talked at once, looking at one another with all kinds of emotions running through them: fear that their lust had been captured on film for all to see; excitement that someone took pictures of them when they were lewd.
Phil anticipated their arguments. "Frank Delasandro is no dumbbell. He has telephoto lens and infra-red flash. He convinced me. He showed me some sample shots. Even said I could keep them." Reaching in his breast pocket, Phil produced glossy five-by-seven snapshots and threw them on the coffee table where they fanned out.
Anne was the first to snatch them up. She saw a photo of her and her naked breasts. Phil's cock was in her hand and she was licking it with a look of rapture on her face. She dropped the picture like she was burnt. Another shot showed her sprawled naked on the water bed, her legs spread wide apart and Donna, Donna naked with her buttocks exposed, was kneeling between her legs. The looks they were exchanging were lascivious.
They huddled over the table, examining the shots, silently turning them this way and that, all of them feeling aroused by what they saw; aroused and ashamed, fearful, for they didn't know how the other person felt and the pictures were in the hands of a virtual stranger who obviously was going to blackmail them.
"Well, hell," Jim said, shrugging. "What's he want? What will he take for the negatives? If it's not too much, let's pay him off, get the negatives and consider it a lesson well learned.
"That's just it," Phil said.
"What? How much?" Jim asked.
"He doesn't want money," Phil said slowly.
There was a pause in the room. The silence was heavy. None of them moved or looked at one another. It was almost as if, by some kind of weird blood-knowledge, each of them knew what it was that Frank wanted, what it was that he was after. '
Finally, Jim spoke; he asked the question Phil seemed to insist be asked before he tell them. His voice sounded funny and light. "Well ... what... does he ... want?"
Phil smiled at his wife then at Jim and Anne. He took his time answering, nodding to each of them as if confirming their worst suspicions. "You," he said, looking at Anne, "and you," he said, turning to his wife. He looked at Jim. "He wants the women. He wants a night with them. He wants our wives."
"He ... wants ... our ... wives." The words seemed to hang in the air like some kind of spiritual neon. Anne sat, her face turning scarlet, her hands shaking, for she knew how she felt, what she wanted to do. She wanted to give herself to him with Phil and Jim-especially Jim-watching. She knew now how a whore, a prostitute, must feel when the madam calls her to perform some lewd act on a customer. She felt a mixture of revulsion and excitement churning in her groin. That, and another feeling: humiliation. She tried to control her trembling and knew that she wanted to do it.
So did dark petite Donna. It would be fun and give her an excuse to make love to Anne again. She looked at her across the coffee table and vowed that this time she would drive that big blonde bitch mad with lust and desire. She fought to control the swelling desire she felt in her groin and said nothing.
Phil was willing. His grin was cool and cynical, for he was looking way ahead.
Only Jim was upset. He made fists and thumped them on the arm of the chair. "That snake, that bastard!"
"What's the matter?"
"I'll punch his face in, really smack him silly."
"Why?"
"Why!" Jim looked at him open-mouthed. "Why, because he wants my wife, that's all."
"I don't mind." Anne's words stunned Jim. All he could do was stare at her.
"Me neither," Donna added, smiling at Anne all dew-eyed.
"That makes three of us," Phil said. He grinned at Jim, holding a palm up again. "Take a minute. Think. All he wants is some of what we all enjoyed last night. You didn't object when Anne made love with me and with Donna. I didn't hear you say anything then."
"That was different!" Jim said hotly.
"Was it? Take a minute. Think. Don't lose your head and go off half-cocked. What's so different? What will he do that we didn't do?"
"His wife!" Phil said triumphantly. "What about his wife?"
"Ah, yes, his wife."
"He isn't contributing his wife, that's what's different!" Jim was belligerent and triumphant. He had a moral there somewhere.
"Right," Phil agreed. "And that's where he's left himself wide open. Now, listen, now that you know, I have a plan."
They put their heads together and Phil talked. It was a comforting conspiracy they all entered, for, for the first time, they were all agreed. The women admitted they wanted to do it (have an orgy with Frank) and the men admitted it was all right. They had plans to make and equipment to buy. Frank Delasandro would have his way.
Both Anne and Donna felt sluttish as they sat in the Blocker house, waiting for Frank Delasandro to come in. Jim and Phil had driven off, prearranged. Frank was now outside, circling the house like a fox, peering around through his telephoto lens lest Phil and Jim try to double back and trick him like he had tricked them. He smiled to himself. He, Frank Delasandro, was much too smart for them. He checked the perimeter out then walked into the house, not looking at Anne and Donna. Nervously, he sat in a chair and tapped his feet, looking at his watch. Donna, wearing a miniskirt and nothing else, padded over next to him, her hips rubbing against him as she tousled his ink-black hair. "Wait!" he said, pulling away and looking at his watch.
Frank was being a stickler for facts. They weren't in the vicinity, the men. The phone rang and he jumped, signaling for Donna to answer it. She picked it up. "Hello?" then handed the phone to Frank.
Frank took it like he was James Bond.
"Yeah?"
"We're here, Frank, in Hicksville, like you told us."
It was Phil's voice. Frank looked cunning before he said, "Let me talk to Mr.... Jim. Jim Coleman."
"Just a minute."
There was a pause and Phil must have handed the phone to Jim. "Hello, yeah, what do you want?"
Frank's eyes narrowed. It was his voice. So they really were in Hicksville, like he had ordered them to be miles away. Even if they left now, it would be hours before they got back. Frank sat with his heart pounding and the phone still in his hand. It had worked, it had actually worked! The two women, Anne and Donna, were his and he could do what he wanted with them.
"Hello?" Jim's voice said.
"Go see a movie," Frank hissed into the phone and hung up. He looked at Anne who was by the bar, sipping a drink. She had a black cocktail dress on and was looking wicked. Frank got up and stalked to the bedroom, the women following. He checked the drapes to make sure they were closed, then, loosening his tie, he fell back on the water bed. His smile was cynical as he looked up at them.
"Okay, girls, take it off."