Chapter 16

Charles Freeman died that winter, shortly after another of many all night sessions with Myra, of a heart attack. When Myra heard about it, she grieved for the odd little man with the meticulous manners who could bring her to climax two and sometimes three times to his one.

Smathers came down for the funeral and took Myra with him. "Don't grieve for him, child. He had a full life. And I am sure you made his last year very happy. He told me so. He was quite old, you know. And prepared to go. He had so few pleasures left and you were one of them. Perhaps the only real one left."

Smathers came back to the house with Myra and bought her whole evening, though he only used her once, in the familiar sixty-nine.

Her body responded, her throat extracting excitement once more from his prick and her cunt answering his delicious suck, until they both reached climax, in a writhing orgasm that left them both limp, happily exhausted. They lay naked together, just talking, until Myra blinked sleepy, sooty-eyes and curled up against him, sleeping in the crook of his arm.

Smathers came back several times during that year, and each time Myra put aside a whole evening for him. Even the Madam agreed he was something special and allowed him the special privileges he had enjoyed before, such as taking Myra out in his rented car for strolls along the beach and a picnic, letting Myra stay the night with him in some motel.

She had her special customers, including a general who barked orders at her and laughed when she stuck out her tongue at him, waggling her naked little rump, until he engulfed her in an oddly gentle bear hug. "My little beauty. Better than anything in Singapore or Bombay." After a session with Myra he liked to talk about the Orient and the girls he had known there. "Beauties. Young, too. Some of them very young. Younger than you. Laughers. Gigglers, really. You're such a solemn little thing, beautiful and remote. I get the feeling a man could be with you a thousand times and not know you." And the general sighed, as if he had missed some essential part of her.

He had. Myra had withdrawn into her prayer to Mommie and dreams of the "Escape Hatch," letting her slim body take over the task of screwing, which it did with exciting facility.

Her routine of catering to older men, mostly because, in the Madam's opinion, they paid better for Myra's special youth and the slim perfection of her body, was broken once that year. A young soldier came to the house, flashing a bankroll, swaggering a little, wanting to buy the best in the house. And he had heard of Myra. He'd pay well for a whole evening with her, since he was being shipped overseas soon. "I want one real good screw. Not with an old bag," That had horrified the Madam who considered all her girls youthful and attractive, and she almost sent him packing. But she rarely sent a bankroll packing. So she brought him in to Myra, who was bent over her school books.

Myra looked up, smiling shyly. "Hello."

"Myra, this is Johnny Cole. He wants to stay with you tonight. But you don't have to. He's not a regular. But he's going overseas soon and . . . "

Myra grinned at him. He reminded her of some of the boys at the soda shop, only cleaner, neater, his hair carefully plastered down with water, one lock already escaping, to stand erect. A kid, really.

"Hello, Johnny." And nodded to the madam, who withdrew, leaving them together.

Johnny Cole lost some of his swagger, left with her. He edged tentatively to a chair and sat with hands dangling between his knees. "Gosh, you're pretty! What are you studying?" He craned to look. "Algebra. I had that last year. Tough."

Myra nodded agreement. "I just can't get all those letters straight. Why don't they just use numbers?"

It was a point that had baffled Johnny and he shook his head, commiserating.

They sat there, staring at one another. Johnny tried to keep his eyes on her face but they wandered to her breasts, jumped guiltily away, then moved down to her legs and back up to the edge of her dress. Finally he blurted out, "Do you? Really? I mean, you're such a kid."

Myra smiled slowly, trying to cover her own embarrassment. "I'm nearly seventeen. I graduate in June. With a diploma." She drew a deep breath, nodding. "And if you want me, I fuck. That's what you meant, isn't it? That's what you wanted."

"Oh, yes ! " Johnny said it fervently. "Only I never expected . . . Well, you're young. And beautiful. And . . . Sure, I want you. More than anything." He gulped nervously. "What do we do?"

"You want me naked?"

Johnny Cole stared at her breasts, gulping. "If you will. I've never seen a girl all the way naked."

Remembering the cemetery and the casual upward flip of a dress to expose her privates, Myra nodded. "Okay." She stood up, reaching for the hem of her dress, peeling out of it with practiced ease. She rarely wore panties in the house. She stood naked before Johnny, hands clasped behind her back, firm young breasts erect, her stomach flat, pulsing a little with the excitement of his eyes on her. Her little cunt was beginning to heat up, and warmth surged through her legs and stomach. Yet she felt oddly shy standing before this boy.

Johnny gaped at her, his eyes wide, his mouth open, face blank with astonishment "Jeee-zuss, you're pretty. I never saw such . . . " He waggled a hand toward her breasts. And be blushed.

"Aren't you going to undress ? " Myra asked it softly, fearing he might have some peculiar choice. in sex.

"Huh?" Johnny Cole startled. "Yeah. I mean, sure," and grabbed at his tie. He was slow in undressing because he stopped often just to stare at Myra's slim little body, sighing heavily. At last he stood naked, hunched over a little, as if at any minute he might cover his privates, like a male Venus.

Myra let her glance slide over his pecker, just a glance. It was big and swelling to reddish proportions, surrounded by dark hair. He caught her glance and blushed. "I ain't got nothing . . . I mean, no VD. Honest." He sighed, standing well away from her. "I ain't had the chance. I mean, this is the first time I ever . . . Well, there was a girl back home, only she wouldn't. Not really. Just sort of played around, like. Once I almost got it in her, but she wouldn't."

Myra held out her hand and he took it gingerly, letting her lead him to the bed. Sensing his acute misery, Myra sighed. "We can lie here and just talk. Until you're ready."

"That would be nice." He came almost eagerly and they threw themselves on the bed in childish abandon, suddenly laughing together. He tousled her hair, grinning. "You're fun."

They lay side by side, bodies just touching, heat generating, just looking at one another's body and laughing spontaneously, a trifle nervously, until he reached over and gently touched one breast. She turned to him, pressing a breast against his side.

Johnny groaned and rolled toward her,, his distended pecker slapping against her leg, his arms tight around her, pressing her breasts tight against his chest. She opened her legs, letting his pecker slide between them.

Once again her treacherous little body was taking over, savoring the heat of his pecker close against her cunt, vibrating. And the heat of his body pressed tight against hers was creating anew those fires, under her breast, her nipples stiffening, brushing in excitement against the faint, downy hair of his chest. He made several futile stabs at her little cunt as they lay side by side.

Myra opened her legs wide and tugged at him so that he rolled over on top of her, half kneeling between her legs, his pecker throbbing against her cunt. It was opening, with juices that would make his entry easy. He looked cross-eyed down his front to see and guided it up tight against her pussy.

"Take it easy. Please."

Johnny gulped and nodded, just halting a wild stab that would have driven his dong up her in one frantic rush. He let his bulb slide in, sighing, his head drooping, then pushed it slowly up her.

Her little pelvis worked with him, moving back and forth to take all that big prick. And far up her tunnel her body was answering, giving forth juices, generating heat. With a final, quick thrust, as if his knees could no longer hold that half crouch, he fell forward on her, ramming his pecker far up her tunnel, murmuring, "Oh, Jeee-zuss! Oh! Jee-zuss ! "

His whole weight rested on her, so that she could scarcely breathe. She tapped his shoulder.

"Lift yourself a little. You're squishing me."

"Oh!" He placed an arm at each side of her and lifted his torso, driving his pecker another bit up her.

Her pelvis began a slow motion back and forth, sliding her cunt along his shaft. Johnny picked up the rhythm and began pumping, slowly at first and then faster. Far up her tunnel she could feel the movement of his shaft and the pulsing of his bulb. And that one big pulse that meant climax.

He gave a moaning cry and clutched her, pulling her tight against his chest,, his whole weight on her again, his pelvis ramming hard into hers and held it, shooting his load far up her tunnel.

Myra's pelvis slammed into his and her body responded to the explosion way up her, giving juices, sending off silent, white hot rockets. She moved her little pelvis, trying to encourage one more bit of juice. But Johnny was finished. He sagged, his head dropping to the pillow beside hers, his body going slack.

And Myra drooped, feeling his pecker slide out of her hole. She touched him again. "You're squishing me."

"Oh!" Johnny spoke from some faraway place, the home of a realized dream. "Yeah. Sorry." And rolled off her, to stare at the ceiling, smiling. "It really happened!" He rolled his head on the pillow, as if not quite believing. "It sure enough happened."

They lay like that a long time, letting the excitement of sex drain away. Finally Myra rolled across his body, kissing him lightly on the cheek. "I've got to wash. If you want to, there's a basin." She went to the bidet a trifle self-consciously, but Johnny wasn't even looking at her. He was staring at some vision of his own, a smile twitching at his lips.

Myra came back, smiling down at his homely, beatific face, hating to disturb the dream, knowing what such dreams meant to her. "You can wash now."

"Huh?" He came to, blinking at her and suddenly grinning "Gosh all hemlock, but you're wonderful! Wash? Oh, sure." He scrambled awkwardly off the bed and loped to the basin, splashing water, flinging over his shoulder, "Is it always that wonderful?"

Myra stood there, considering it gravely. "I think maybe the first tune is best. If it's right." Knowing that her first time and many times after had been anything but right

While he was splashing, humming to himself, Myra drifted back to her study table and the books open there, frowning down at them. Alegebra was hard. And there was no one to explain it to her, outside the classroom, where you never quite got all of it.

Johnny came up beside her, leaning to look. "Oh, I can do that. I guess once you've, had it you don't forget." He spoke from the wisdom of one out of the classroom a whole year. He pulled up a chair and sat. Myra dropped into her chair. Both were unconscious of their nakedness, sitting side by side, small pink rumps touching, bending over the obscurity. of algebra.

Three problems later Johnny stretched, yawning. "I guess I better be getting back or I'll catch it from Mom." He blinked. "I'm nuts! I'm not . . . " And then he became aware of Myra's nudity, her pink breasts leaning over the desk, amber-pink nipples soft, barely distinguishable. "Oh, gosh all hemlock!" He smote his forehead. "I went and forgot. I was gonna." He paused, blushing. "Maybe you didn't want to again ? "

Myra didn't remind him that her body was for hire and that wanting had little to do with the matter. Instead she smiled up at him. "We've got all night."

Together they drifted back to the bed, holding hands, then threw themselves across it, suddenly laughing. He was gone in the morning when Myra got up to go to school. Only a small ache in her pelvis and four algebra problems solved reminded her that Johnny had been there.

Between other customers be came back, each time investing enough to stay the night. It was on that fourth night, as they lay together, sex gratified, in somnolent languor, that he asked her to marry him. "I'm going to Vietnam. Soon now. And I'd like to have something to come back to. To remember while I'm there and know I was coming back to it. Will you?"

Myra hesitated. It was the "Escape Hatch" come true! She didn't dare quite believe in it. And then she threw her arms around him, kissing him, crying a little. "Johnny I could love you very much. And I'll always play fair. Always."

It wasn't as simple as that. The Madam argued wildly against it. "You can't, dear. Girls in our business can't stick with one man. One man just ain't enough."

Skibo had to be placated but he gave in to her plea, sighing, "If I don't you wouldn't be worth a damn anyway. Sure, go ahead and marry the slob." And suddenly grinned at her. "And good luck, baby. I'll even send a silver spoon."

Preparations were hurried. Time was short. There was barely time for a hasty message to Smathers whom, she felt obscurely, should be told. He wired back: "I WON'T COME SINCE I KNOW I WOULD WEEP. I AM TOO OLD FQR TEARS. LUCK AND ALL MY LOVE."

He sent a beautiful silver bowl. The girls at the house chipped in on a Rogers silver service, and even the Madam gave her a toaster. And there was a "silver spoon" from Skibo, an enormous ladle that Myra laughed over and cried a little.

She, got her "Escape Hatch" hoard from the Madam and blew it on furniture for the tiny three-room apartment Johnny rented. Her first purchase was an enormous king-size bed that barely fit the small bedroom. But that was to be their life for the next scant weeks; making love, so Johnny would have a host of exciting memories to take with him. And something to. come back to.

The wedding was simple. Down at the courthouse, before a justice who snuffled. With a cold, not sentiment.

And then they were alone together, in the apartment, both a little shy, both embarrassed and not knowing quite why. Finally Johnny blurted, "Hell, we're married!" and caught her up, carrying her to the king-size bed.