Chapter 5

The day was bright and the sky was an electric blue above. The sand was glaring in the sunlight and Frank Delasandro, watching the gulls wheel lazily in the air, knew it would be hot by noon time. He drove his pick up truck into town, whistling, his dark thin face happy. Last night had been quite a good night. It paid to cruise around the beach area. No telling what you might see. Frank, in his years, had seen quite a lot.

In his shirt pocket was a roll of film. In town, he would borrow his friends darkroom and develop the film. Frank was a blackmailer. If there is such a thing, he was a nice blackmailer. He spent many an evening driving up and down by the ocean, flicking off his lights at times and driving slowly by moonlight. Usually, he parked and walked. If anybody asked, he had a right to be there. Frank used what he saw to keep his position as a handyman and caretaker. Through the years, seeing things and remembering, he would drop a gentle hint. "Gee, that was some party you had last night. I was driving by on my way home and saw your wife. That was some fall she took, hope she's all right."

Wealthy vacationers, not wanting trouble, and, in most instances, not remembering what took place the night before because they were too drunk, were only too happy to keep him on and even find odd-jobs for him to do whenever he mentioned that business was slow or money was tight. It was a gentle, small-time kind of blackmail and no one really minded and Frank found himself in a cushy position with plenty of money.

Only a hint of knowing about some furtive sexual activity was enough. Just a little hint-the possibility that he might know something-was enough for him to set most couples up for life.

The night before, the Blocker bedroom light had shone like a beacon as Frank made his rounds. He had pulled off the road and parked and made his way up to the Coleman house on foot. One look at the Blocker bedroom window had sent him running back to his truck. Under the front seat, he found his Nikon camera fixed with the telescopic lens and infra-red flash attachments. The camera and attachments had cost him a lot of money and he had grown angry and resentful with himself, thinking he had wasted a lot of money as the weeks slipped into months and he could never find a use or opportunity to use his expensive camera.

Now he ran back toward the Blocker house, excited, eager, congratulating himself while hoping at the same time that they hadn't gone away or closed the drapes.

They hadn't. He made his way until he was under the Coleman bedroom window, his back to the wall. All was quiet in the Coleman house and he knelt and aimed the camera, squinting, bringing Phil and Donna into sharp, magnified clarity. "Jesus Jumping Christ!" he muttered as his greedy eye flowed over Donna's naked body.

He began clicking and focussing, taking pictures rapidly, wanting to get the whole roll in. A crash of glass in the Coleman house above and behind him almost made him scream aloud and he froze, his heart beating wildly. His instinct was to get the hell out of there, for it was one thing for him to be seen on the strip at night and quite another to be found cowering against the house in the middle of the night with a camera in his hands. If found, he could blow the whole thing right then and there.

Yet he couldn't move. He held his breath and pressed his body up against the house, underneath the window and listened. Someone was moving by the window above his head and he heard a male voice say something. He closed his eyes and muttered a prayer. He could see it all in the morning paper: FRANK DELASANDRO ARRESTED AS A PEEPING TOM. Frank Delasandro, employed as a handyman and caretaker along the strip was arrested late last night on a complaint made by Mr. and Mrs. James Coleman...

Wildly, he tried to think of some believable reason why he should be doing what he was doing and nothing came to his mind. Above his head, he heard a thump and heavy breathing and hasty words. He blinked and cocked his head. They were talking! They didn't know he was there! He decided to crawl away on his hands and knees and started to do so when he heard Jim Coleman's muffled voice ask, "Would you like to do that? How about if they watched us making love?"

"Yes, I'd love it!" he heard Mrs. Coleman reply.

Frank crouched lower. There was a bedroom air vent on the floor and he could hear them quite clearly as he put his head down low. He crawled under the house and knelt with his ear right by the vent. He was so close he could even hear their heavy breathing. They were fucking on the floor, right above him!

"How about if they were in the room with us?" he heard Jim Coleman ask.

"Oh God!" he heard her say and he felt his own erection growing. "Jim! I want it!"

"Want what?"

"In me! I want it in me!"

"With them watching?"

"Yes, yes! Yes, with them watching! I told you! I'd love it! Fuck me, fuck me!"

A wild idea was in Frank's mind. He crawled back out from under the house and slowly, his head by the corner of the window, he stood and peeked with one eye. There, not two feet from him, were the Colemans, on the floor, naked, and fucking! Mrs. Coleman's fantastic build almost made him groan aloud. Chancing it, he took off the telescopic attachment and focussed, clicked the shutter and dropped down and scrambled under the house, putting his ear by the vent.

He heard Anne's wild throaty voice... in the same room and naked and watching!"

"Do you really want that?"

"Yes, yes, I'd love it, I want it, let's do it!"

Frank had heard enough. He made himself crawl out from under the house and along the foundation until he reached the road. One last hungry look at the Blocker's window and he saw Mrs. Blocker naked, on her knees, her breasts glistening with oil and jiggling on the bed while she waved her naked buttocks invitingly, showing her tight anus and swollen cunt. He had just enough time to screw the telescopic attachment back in place and take a picture of her before he saw Phil, with his huge prick in his hand, fall on her and begin fucking from behind like a bull on a heifer.

He ran back to his truck, put the camera under the seat and slapped his hands together, breathing a sigh of relief. He laughed out loud and said, "Frank, I think you're one smart fellow and you're on to something!"

He couldn't sleep that night, tossing and turning in bed next to his wife. She was sound asleep and she wasn't bad looking at all but she was nothing compared with the Blocker woman. And the Coleman woman! He groaned aloud. His mind was racing with all kinds of thoughts: money, lots of money if he handled it right, if he had the nerve. More than that, there was sex. Sex, and the possibility of his fucking those beautiful women, made him grit his teeth and clench his fists. Frank Delasandro inside, fucking Mrs. Blocker. What was her first name? "Donna," he said softly and he imagined himself calling her that. "Donna, suck my cock!" he whispered.

His imagination soared. There were plenty of afternoons when husbands took the trains back into New York City and left their wives alone. Plenty of time for him to drive out there, drink some of their expensive booze and then fuck their wives. Hell, he could even have the two of them together. "Mama mia," he muttered.

And the next morning he was whistling and singing, being extra nice to his wife, saying, "Got to go in town on some errands. Then, I got some work to do."

Developing the film was an easy job and the results were everything he hoped for. Many shots of the Blockers and one of the Colemans; all of them clear and graphic. He looked at his watch and decided to have a cup of coffee. It was still early and he was fairly sure none of them would be up too soon after a night like that one and he could use the time, allowing his fine Italian mind to scheme.

He was right. Jim and Anne slept as if stunned. Across the way, the Blockers did the same. When Anne awoke, it was bright light outside and she realized all of the night before in vivid detail.

This particular morning, the sun had risen and was high and hot in the sky and Anne was looking at her husband heavily asleep beside her and realizing another truism, another cliche: the cold light of day.

Cliches stick around for so long simply because they contain a germ of truth and it is that eternal nagging truth that makes us all become so infuriated with cliches. "As different as night and day." Indeed, it was the same man, Jim, her husband, beside her, and she was surely the same woman she was the night before, but it was all different now.

How could she look at her husband after the things she said and did the night before? On their honeymoon, just married and already she was talking of things she had never dreamed of doing! Not only talking, but doing things that were wild and obscene and agreeing with her husband to do perverted things! And loving it! The thick, wild excitement she had felt had been insane. Once caught up in it, she could do nothing but go along with it, eager to do it, finding her body driven to a mad ecstasy by it.

Yet, she knew she couldn't do any of those things and a sense of guilt and shame came over her. What kind of a marriage were they planning? She was acting like a whore. Their lives could end in a terrible mess. Above all was a worry she couldn't, didn't dare articulate: what did Jim think of her if he could expect her to do things; things such as he suggested the night before-things that she had to admit excited her beyond all reason and sanity.

It would be crazy to get mixed up with the Blockers. She had heard about people like them but never really believed they existed. She had thought them, the product of dirty minds and wishful thinking. Now, she knew they existed. They were very real to her. They were next door. If she had met them at a cocktail party, she would have thought them a handsome couple who fitted the sophisticated New York scene. What ever else she thought of them, she certainly wouldn't suspect they were the type to do what they did, advertise, then perform. There was something insidious and entrapping in the way Donna went about informing her of their bedroom activities.

And Jim knew about them!

They were rather formal and sheepish with each other; neither looking the other in the face. He didn't mention last night and Anne couldn't bring herself to do it. She ran around the house doing errands and cleaning up and beginning a big breakfast for him, chattering away all the time. She felt they had to get out of the house, had to find an excuse to get away so that she wouldn't be confronted by either of the Blockers. "Jim, let's go on a picnic today?"

"Okay," he smiled, reading the paper in the breakfast nook, casually dressed in chinos and a bright orange sweatshirt. "Where to?"

"How about Montauk Point? Lots of dunes out there."

"Sounds fine to me."

"I'll pack a lunch right after I cook breakfast."

Jim mumbled a reply, pretending to read the paper. Actually, his mind was like Anne's: he was thinking of last night and all of its ramifications. He was also sneaking peeks at his wife's voluptuous figure. Her slacks were tight and showed off her rounded firm buttocks invitingly. In spite of her bulky sweater, he savored her thin waist and imagined that firm stomach that wiggled in a tantalizing way whenever she was naked and walking.

He sipped at the hot cup of coffee she placed before him with a smile and took in her breasts which bulged against her sweater. They were so large, they should have sagged, but they didn't, forming quarter moons of shadow under her breasts when she stood in the right light. They were big firm breasts placed just right and he loved the way they jiggled and undulated whenever she walked as she did now: barer footed.

He had never seen her so excited as he had last night and he had never enjoyed her so much. And he worried. His upbringing and background was very different from Anne's and he worried. Why shouldn't they have a little excitement in their sex lives? He once read a book written by two researchers who had spent years compiling statistics and interviews. They came to the conclusion that nothing was abnormal or wrong so long as two adults consented. If it gave them pleasure, it was normal. The book went on to describe all sorts of sexual practices that both repelled and excited him. He had read the book in one night, long before they were married and, when he finally put it down, he knew they were right. His head was swimming, but they were right!

And now, he was eating a hearty breakfast and watching his wife. And thinking of Donna Blocker.

And the phone rang. It rang during a lull in their conversation and the sounds of breakfast being made. It jangled on the sunny morning air and vibrated throughout the house. It snapped their heads around to look at the phone that seemed to scream at them and then they looked at each other. It was a long look and it was an admittance that each of them knew who was calling.

Jim put his fork down with a metallic clink on his plate and looked at his wife while the phone rang demandingly for the third time. Clearing his throat, he got to his feet, saying, "I wonder who that could be?"

Anne didn't believe him anymore than she believed herself and both their voices sounded hollow as she answered, "I don't know, but we're going on a picnic." He walked to the phone, chewing on his food, swallowing, nodding as she added, a hint of an ominous tone in her voice, "With some friends."

He picked the phone up like he was afraid he was going to get an electric shock. "Hello?"

"Hello," a honeyed, slightly hoarse voice asked. "Is this Jim Coleman?"

"Yes," he answered, his mouth suddenly dry.

Although he had never heard her speak, the voice could only belong to one person: Donna Blocker.

"This is your neighbor, Donna Blocker."

"How do you do," he said politely, closing his eyes. "Did you want to speak to Anne?"

"No," the voice said, a husky teasing tone to it. "You're the man of the house." There was a throaty chuckle. "You'll do."

"Oh?" he answered in a little voice, wanting to kick himself for sounding so stupid. He had an excuse, for he imagined talking to her as she was the night before, still covered with oil and wearing only black stockings and high heels.

"Yes," she went on smoothly, "Jim was telling me about you, and I met Anne yesterday down on the beach and we thought we'd like you to stop by tonight for cocktails before dinner just to get acquainted. Would sixish be all right?"

"Oh?" he said again, turning his head to look at Anne who was standing by the stove looking at him. Her look told him to try and get out of it. "Gee, that sounds great, but I don't think we'll be able to make it. We're going on a picnic."

"A picnic? At six?" her voice sounded sardonic and amused.

"Yes. That's right," he said, his face flushing. "We're going with some friends and I... we are going out with them after."

"I see," Donna's voice said, drawing out the words in his ear. "Well, it sounds interesting."

"Yeah," he said, eager to end the conversation and hang up.

"Well, surely you're coming back to change before going out?"

Jim gave a professional laugh. "Yeah, well, that's what we're not sure of. We may take a change of clothes with us."

Donna laughed indulgently. "Sounds more and more interesting. I'd better not ask any more questions. Look, we won't push you. Let's leave it this way: if you get back and feel like it and want to come over around six, we'll be expecting you. If not then, another time."

"Okay, that's fine," Jim said, relieved. "Nice talking to you."

"Very nice talking to you," her voice said, pouring like cream into his ear. "Phil told me about you and I'm looking forward to meeting you."

"Same here. Bye."

"Bye."

He hung up and looked at his wife. He smiled slightly and said, "Aren't you going to ask me who that was?"

Anne turned away, her back to him as she busied herself over the stove. "What did they want?"

"They invited us over for cocktails before dinner. Around six tonight. I told them I didn't think we could make it."

"Good," she said and busied herself with running water and making sandwiches for the picnic. With her slamming around and running the water and washing the breakfast dishes, it was impossible to carry on a conversation. He went about packing things into the car, glancing every now and then at the Blocker house. He couldn't see any movement and he wondered what they thought.

Donna hung up the phone and smiled up at the ceiling. Phil, lying next to her on the water bed, lit a cigarette and handed it to her. "Well?"

She shook her head and grinned at him. "You've got some crazy kind of insight. He did almost exactly what you said he would do. He alibied their way out, and, it wasn't a very good alibi."

Phil chuckled to himself and lit his own cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke at the ceiling. "That clinches it. They watched."

"What next, oh-great-mastermind?"

"We wait," he answered, grinning at her. "Time and tide take care of everything."

"I thought you wanted to get them in bed with us, not wash them out to sea."

He reached over and kissed her on the mouth and caressed her naked breast. "Don't worry, they'll be here tonight. If not tonight, the next night."

"Phil, are you sure of what you're doing?" Donna asked, suddenly serious.

"Sure I'm sure."

"I mean, about... us."

He grinned down at her. "What's the matter, baby, getting cold feet?"

"Yes, frankly, from a lot of viewpoints. First, supposing you got involved with someone. Supposing it was that Anne Coleman. I mean, she's a knockout." She tried to avert her face from her husband's, for she felt a sexual thrill course through her and a color rise in her face beneath her tan. She felt she had better be careful not to let him know the lewd carnal feeling she felt for Anne's body.

"Come on, you know I love you."

"Yeah, right now. And here we are plotting how to swap mates. Supposing you should fall for her and leave me? That would kill me."

Phil looked up at the ceiling and laughed. "Oh, God, nothing like the feminine mind. Think a minute. If I can have any woman I want, why would I want to leave you? I can have you too!"

"Yeah," Donna said, "that's just what I mean."

"By the same token, you can have any man you want and have me too. There's no reason for us to part if only we act mature about it and realize what's important. Now be honest. Remember San Francisco? Wasn't that fun? Wasn't it more fun afterward? Admit it, didn't it excite you?"

"Yes," she admitted slowly, still not looking at him. "And that brings up another thing. I do like it. God, I love it and I'm afraid of it."

"Afraid?" he asked, really urging her to go on.

"Yes," she answered in a small whisper, "I'm afraid of what I can do, afraid of what I can become."

"What do you mean? Go on, say it," he said, his hand slipping down her naked stomach, feeling her muscles tense under his touch as his hand trailed down to her pubic hair and his index finger found the slit of her cunt buried between her thighs. Gently, he began rubbing it up and down.

"Oh, Phil," she breathed softly.

"Come on, tell me what's on your mind."

She licked her lips and fought against the feeling deep in her loins. "Well, where do we draw the line?"

"Anywhere you want. All you have to do is say so."

"Where do I do that? I mean, what's wrong? What's bad?" she asked. Despite herself, and their conversation, the way his finger was teasing her, aroused her. The insatiable love of lust was coming back and her lips trembled as she said, "I mean, I try to imagine what it would be like if several men ... two or even three ... made love to me at the same time." She had said it and she felt a lewdness creep over her body like warm butter and her thighs relaxed and shifted apart ever so slightly as she felt a moistness growing in her cunt. The admission thrilled her and she went on in a trembling hoarse voice. "I try to imagine it and it excites me, it gets me hot. I imagine them making me do things, forcing me to do all kinds of things. I imagine being raped, treated like a whore!"

Her legs were apart and her knees slightly raised and she moaned with a kind of resigned delight as she felt his finger sink into the hot pulpy recesses of her cunt. "Oh, Phillllllll!"

"Go on," he urged, his own cock hardening as he rubbed it against her bare thigh. He knew-or suspected-her desires. And much more. Before he was through, she would be doing much more than even she imagined.

"Oh, God, sometimes I'm afraid of what I think and feel," she said as she stretched out, her lovely body now sprawled on top of the bed with Phil sawing his finger in and out of her cunt. She thrust her pelvis up and looked down between the mounds of her breasts and saw his hand pumping back and forth and felt his finger sliding in and out, lubricated by her rutting moistness. "I ... I ... sometimes imagine myself in a room. It's dark and it is crowded and I stand up on a chair and there are people crowded all around me and their hands are reaching for me. And they touch me and caress me and turn me all around and soon their hands are everywhere and they tear off my clothing and I try to stop them but I can't." Her eyes half closed, her nostrils were flaring and her buttocks contracting and rolling as she panted and moaned and writhed on the water bed and the two of them undulated obscenely and Phil reached and put his mouth on one nipple and bit and sucked.

Donna made a face and a feeble attempt to push his head away. It was hopeless; that heat, that passion, that wild sense of abandonment, that very explicit lewdness that Phil knew only too well how to arouse, was on her now. She could do nothing but go on, her voice a drone. "And soon I'd be naked and their hands would be all over me. Everywhere. And, gradually, slowly, their hands would pull me down into a mass of naked bodies!"

She couldn't stand it anymore! It was all mad and she was loving it! She felt that Phil would eventually make her do something that would wreck their marriage and their life.

She was wild, forcing his head away and, almost snarling, she fought for his cock and put it into her mouth and felt it hard and thick and hot and she sucked. She would do anything he said, she would go out on the street and sell her body if he wanted her to. She was afraid, but she would do anything he said and love the thrill of doing it!

Phil was wild, lying on his back on the bed while Donna crouched over him, her lips taut and stretched around the long thick shaft of his cock. He seized her head in his hands and began thrusting up with his cock. He fucked her in the mouth brutally, making her choke as he drove his battering ram cock home.

The waterbed was rocking with motion and they rose and fell as if on a boat in a heavy swell as he fucked and Donna's finger searched for his anus. He came with a guttural roar in her mouth and lay still as they rode gently up and down and Donna gulped the thick hot sperm and swallowed it and gulped for more.

They gradually subsided, rocking slowly, and Donna let his prick slide from her mouth, then, reaching to hold it in her hand, she greedily licked the cum off the massive head until it was limp in her hand. She crawled up and lay on top of him, kissing him on the mouth. "God, you got me hot."

"Good, that's the way I want you."

"What do you mean?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

"I mean I want you so hot tonight that when they come in the door, you'll cum in your panties." He kissed her, pecking her cheeks. "And I'm going to keep you hot for the rest of the day. We'll play, but no orgasm for you."

Donna looked at him a moment, incredulous, before saying, "Phil Blocker, you are one mean son-of-a-bitch!"