Chapter 2

Phil Blocker watched his wife mince across the boards and out of sight then leaped to his feet and, humming, went into their beach house and pulled on a tee shirt and some sneakers then went out the front door, down the stairs and started walking along the domed macadam road to the Coleman beach house. The day was hot and the road went on, disappearing in perspective in shimmering heat waves that distorted far-off objects and made them dance crazily: what looked like a red sheet flapping far off soon took solid form and became the red pickup truck of Frank Delasandro coming toward him.

He waved as Frank, handyman and winter caretaker, sped by in a whoosh of hot air and he saw his dark thin profile with his swarthy face and pencil-thin mustache. Frank had been born and raised and still lived on a little farm on the inland side of the bay. He had a good thing going for him and was good at his job, being able to do almost any kind of manual labor. Phil wondered what his life was like. He knew so much about all the people who owned or rented the beach houses and, over a drink, he was more than willing to talk about them. A short dark man who was thin and had muscles like woven wire-cables, he would sip the beer Phil had offered him and puff on a cigarette, taking a break from unplugging a drain for Phil and say, "You'd be surprised what goes on out here. Don't ask me."

"Really? Like what?" Phil asked, trying to hide a grin.

"Ah, don't ask me. Like the Farrington party two weeks ago. Don't ask me about that!"

"What happened?"

"I can't tell you. Not about the Farrington girl, I can't."

"Sure you can."

"If her mother and father only knew. Don't ask me."

"Okay, I won't. What happened?"

Taking another sip of his beer, Frank was off and running as he swiped his hand across his mustache. "They had this big party, see? A real bust out. Everybody got smashed out of their mind. And, while the party is going on in the house and on the sundeck, I see this Farrington girl-her name is Susy and she's a knockout-sneak down into the garage and get in a car with two guys. Two guys!" Frank said, his eyes excited and two fingers held up in front of Phil's face. "Two of them! And at the same time!" He was all excited now, sipping at his beer and puffing on his cigarette while talking and gesticulating in an Italian way. "Two of them! And I saw her getting screwed, naked, stripped, nothing on! Getting screwed in the garage while her parents are upstairs bombed out of their minds! I tell you, people ain't got any morals anymore. You'd be amazed at what goes on out here. You wouldn't believe me."

"Like what?"

"Don't ask!"

Walking along the road, his head bent down under the heavy sun, feeling and hearing the sand crunch under his feet, Phil wagged his head and laughed, wondering what Frank's home life must be like.

He walked up the Coleman driveway whistling, eager to get into the shade, not having the slightest idea what he was going to say, but trusting his instinct that he would say and do the right thing. He leaped up the porch stairs two at a time and rapped on the door.

Down on the beach, Donna Blocker kicked off her sandals and put them on the catwalk steps and shaded her eyes, looking around for Anne Coleman. She spotted her further down the beach and set off, stepping in the deep soft sand, her hips swaying in an exaggerated way. Anne Coleman had spread a towel and was lying with her head against a dune, her tanned body now glistening with suntan oil. The black halter to her bikini was unclasped and her bra barely covered her breasts that spilled out and Donna saw that she was voluptuous and could see why her husband wanted to fuck her. A lewd thrill rekindled the lust she had been feeling up on the sundeck as she imagined Phil fucking Anne with that big battering-ram cock of his while she watched with-what was his name? Jim. She would suck Jim's prick and she hoped it was big and thick like Phil's. She would suck it while Jim Coleman watched his wife being fucked to death.

"Hi," she said, coming to a halt and smiling down at Anne. "I'm Donna Blocker and we're neighbors and I saw you coming down to the beach and I thought we might as well get acquainted."

"Hello," Anne said, shading her eyes with a hand. "I'm Anne Coleman."

"I know," Donna said, kneeling in the sand, "Frank told us who you were and that you also are newlyweds. Congratulations."

"Thanks," Anne said shyly. "We were going to come over and introduce ourselves but we haven't had time, somehow."

Donna laughed indulgently, nodding in a knowing way. "Don't think I don't know. Listen, if your husband is anything like my Phil, it's a wonder if you have time to brush your teeth."

A nervous smile on her lips, Anne looked away and nodded vaguely.

"You don't have to be self-conscious about it," Donna went on, "After all isn't that what married life is all about? Listen, I hope you're as lucky as me. Phil is the biggest lecher you've ever seen. Always driving me into bed." For a moment, her ruby red tongue tipped her snow white teeth. "I like it. Can't keep his hands off me. Is your husband that way?"

Anne squinted at Donna, feeling this was hardly the way to talk, especially since they both had just met.

"Trouble is," Donna went on, examining her nails, "He gets carried away. Like last night. He left the stereo on full blast and the lights were on in our bedroom and the drapes were open. Did you notice?" she asked, all concerned. "I mean, we didn't bother you or anything like that, did we?"

"No," Anne said, shaking her head, "I didn't hear anything."

Donna gave a throaty chuckle. "It's not the hearing I'm worried about. Sound can always be turned down or off. It's the seeing I'm worried about. We had a little too much to drink last night and got carried away. I worried but, well, when you get to know Phil, you'll see what I mean," she said with a shrug.

Anne didn't like the way the conversation was going, but found herself curious. Jim, her husband, was the first man she had ever had and sex was a new thing to her. "I don't know what you mean?"

"Well," Donna said, giggling. "He knew the lights were on and the drapes open and it was getting kind of rough and hot in our bedroom and I said something about it and he said: so what? What's wrong with someone having a free show? What do you think of that? "

A surge of embarrassment and sexuality hit Anne in the pit of her shapely stomach. She stammered the question out. "What did you do?"

Donna looked at her through lowered lashes, breathing through her nose feeling her own vagina swelling with the excitement of telling another woman. Her eyes, veiled thinly behind her lashes, took in Anne's body: her long legs that were as good as her own and longer, her shapely tanned thighs and thin firm stomach and full rich breasts that were barely hidden under her bikini halter. She couldn't be sure, but she thought she saw the nipples of her breasts mounting to a pointed hardness under the black satin bra. For the first time in her life, to her consternation and inward self-fear, she found herself sexually attracted to another woman and her mind flirted with the idea of what it would be like to make love to Anne Coleman-to have her naked on a bed and make love to her while Phil watched.

"Perhaps you don't want to say," Anne said finally, uneasy under her stare that took in her body slowly, mentally undressing her.

"Oh, no, I don't mind," Donna said brightly, pulling herself together. "I don't mind at all. It was a crazy thing to do, I know. We ..." she smiled slowly at Anne, spreading her palms out in an insinuating way, "We made love. We had sex. All the way. We fucked." She broadened her smile as she saw the word "fucked" hit Anne with an impact and slowly sponge in. "I liked it," she added in a small voice.

Anne didn't say anything. She looked out to sea while the word echoed around in her mind.

"Did I shock you?" Donna asked sweetly. "Phil says I'm always trying to shock people. What the hell, I guess he's right. I do it on purpose. It tells me a lot about what people are like. To be honest, the stereo was turned down, one lamp in a corner was lit and the drapes were only half open. You could've had a great show if you were a sea gull hovering out over the dunes somewhere."

Anne laughed in relief and looked at Donna with a new interest. She liked her and the brazen way she had been putting Anne on.

Donna offered a cigarette and lit one herself. "There was one gull but he turned out to be nearsighted. Seriously, it was just the idea of being a little bit naughty. Have you ever thought about that?"

Taking a drag on her cigarette, Anne nodded. "Yes, I must confess I do."

"Everybody does. A little risque behavior does wonders for a marriage, let me tell you. Phil always says he wants me to be a lady in the living room, a wife in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom."

Anne laughed delightedly. Donna was the first woman she had had a chance to talk to in anyway since she had been married and she was beginning to enjoy it. "I'll have to tell Jim that one.

"Is that his name? That's nice. Please do. But, better yet, be it. Trouble with me is, I got Phil on my hands or, to be more honest, I got his hands all over me and sometimes," she smiled knowingly, "I'm a whore in the living room and kitchen."

Anne's hand flew to her mouth as she hid a laugh.

Donna leaned close. "Listen, try it in the shower sometime." Anne's laughter increased and she tried to avert her face. Donna gave out a throaty laugh. "Ah ha! Gotcha! Fun, isn't it? Come on, nothing wrong in admitting it."

Anne couldn't answer, her face crimson under her tan and oil. Donna got to her feet and lazily stretched. "I've got to go in town soon for some lobsters. Can I get you anything while I'm there?"

"No," Anne said, shaking her head and not looking up.

"Okay. Nice to finally have met you."

"Me too."

"We'll have you over for cocktails soon and you can see our house and our waterbed," Donna said, backing off.

"Your what?"

"Our waterbed. Haven't you ever seen one?"

"No. What is it? a mattress filled with water?"

"Exactly," Donna said, putting one hand on her hips. "And the water is heated by a thermostat control."

"What's it like?" Anne said, feeling her face flush again.

Donna jutted one hip out and stood, mocking a stripper. "Well, all I can say is, it's great for fucking! "

Despite herself, Anne burst into an hysterical laughter at Donna's boldness and vulgarity.

She dropped her pose and said, "Nobody can describe what it's like. You and ... Jim-is that his name?-will have to try it for yourself." With a flick of the wrist and a smirk, she walked away, calling back, "Maybe you'll want to. Maybe we all could try it."

And she walked off, her buttocks swaying, leaving Anne Coleman with her thoughts.

Jim sat down and looked at Phil Blocker. A solid enough looking guy. A few questions on both parts and he knew that Phil was a successful man who was probably headed on to bigger and better things. Hell, he could tell that by the way he handled himself. He accepted Phil's congratulations on his marriage and several smutty remarks about his wife as a compliment. In college, he had known lots of jocks like Phil Blocker: they had a way of coming on earthy and direct and didn't really mean anything by it. Besides, he had to admit that his wife was stacked and that she was pretty hot in the sack.

Before she had left, Anne had brewed a pot of coffee and they were both enjoying it now, talking about the stock market when Phil suddenly looked over his shoulder and his eyes narrowed and he said, "Jesus Christ," very softly.

"What's the matter?" Jim said, turning in his chair to see what Phil was staring at.

Phil was on his feet and striding across the living room like a great cat, looking out the picture window. "I never realized," he said, chuckling a little.

"Realized what?" Jim asked, getting up and standing beside him. All he could see was their beach house across the white sand.

"Look at that," Phil said, pointing. "Our bedroom window faces on this side."

"Oh, I didn't know."

Phil laughed and turned from the window, nodding. "Well, that's your tough luck. If you had, you would have had quite a show last night."

"Huh?" Jim asked. "What do you mean?" He thought he knew what he had meant but he wanted him to say it as he felt his cock swell a bit in his pants.

"You know how it is," Phil said, sprawling in his chair and putting his hands behind his head. "Donna and I went out last night and drank a little too much. When we came home, we had a little more and some nice music and one thing led to another and pretty soon we were balling away in the bedroom with the lights on and the drapes open. Forgot all about neighbors until this morning. Gotta be more careful."

"Yeah," Jim said, sitting down and trying to conceal his excitement. "Anne is always worried about somebody peeking in. You know how it is."

"No I don't," Phil said with a little smile. "Not with Donna. She's always worried that no one is looking in. Donna is ... well, Donna is a real hot one with damn few inhibitions."

Jim looked down at his coffee cup, not knowing what to say. He had seen Mrs. Donna Blocker and she was a knockout. He had seen her getting into the car with a pair of shorts almost on her, the damn things cutting up to reveal the cheeks of her buttocks. Donna was the opposite of Anne: small and dark and fiery. A delectable piece of ass, he had told himself.

Across the room, Phil chuckled to himself. "It all happened because I told her about Beaver Shooting."

"Beaver what?" Jim asked smiling.

Phil looked surprised. "Don't tell me you never did any Beaver Shooting when you were in college?"

Jim shook his head, a little embarrassed that he didn't even know what he was talking about.

Phil leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "When I was in college, the team would go away for games, right? Well, we'd stay at some hotel, right? Naturally. Well, the night before a game, when it got late enough, we'd go up on the roof or use the fire exits and climb around like a bunch of drunken apes trying to find a room where somebody was balling. You know, screwing. Whenever somebody found one, we'd yell, Bang, I got a Beaver and we'd all run and watch."

Jim allowed himself a smirk. "Man, I bet you saw some sights."

"Did we ever!" Phil said, allowing himself to wax sentimental. "Those were the days. Christ, being on a football team, I had a different girl every night. We used to give points for Beaver Shooting with the guy with the most points getting whatever chick was available. If you won, you had your pick and believe me, all that fucking made you hornier than a young bull in a pasture full of cows in heat."

"I bet."

"Hell, we even got to setting it up. I never will forget the night we set Bronco Stewart up. He was a big tackle. He got really smashed one night and a couple of guys contacted these two hookers-real high class hookers-and then we all climbed into Danny Coombs room to watch Bronco work out with the two hookers in the room across an airshaft. They were ... you know ... A.C., D.C."

"Yeah," Jim said, not really knowing, but imagining what it must be like. He felt his cock swelling and he wished Anne were there. He'd take her into the bedroom and really give it to her.

"Ever make it with two girls at the same time?" Phil asked in a confidential tone, a smirk on his lips, but his eyes watching Jim evenly.

"Er ... two? Two at the same time? No ... no, I can't say that I have. Wish I did, though," he added, unable to keep the excitement and interest out of his voice. "Have you?" he asked, blurting the question out. What the hell, he thought, if he can ask me, I can ask him.

Phil looked at him with a little smile. "When I check out I can honestly say that there will be damned little I haven't tried or done."

And in the silence of the room Phil could practically hear Jim's mind turning over. "Well," he said, slapping his knees, "I've got to be going. Donna and I are going to go into town this afternoon and do some shopping." He got up and extended his hand. "Glad to meet you. Now that we've met we'll have to have you and ... Anne, isn't it? ... over for cocktails and a look at the house. Especially our water bed."

"What's a water bed?" Jim asked as he shook hands.

Phil smiled. "Let me tell you about it," he said, throwing an arm over his shoulder and walking toward the door.