Chapter 6
The successful consummation of the Myers' contract proved to be a turning point in Harold's personality change, as well as in his career. He opened his own agency with large fancy offices. His picture appeared on the cover of an insurance magazine describing his sales and business acumen in glowing terms. Harold believed every word of the article and practically committed it to memory. He sent copies to everyone he'd ever heard of and had one plaqued in plastic for his office wall. The company that made the plaque also made trophies. He ordered several large impressive-looking ones with engraved plaques to himself in gratitude from the various companies and some of his clients.
He hired a press agent and soon the papers and magazines were carrying mentions of Harold Levenson, the prominent insurance executive. He became an inveterate social climber and bought his way into various private clubs and professional groups. The old Plymouth gave way to a new Cadillac and he became a dapper dresser, even though Elsie still shined his shoes each morning. His time was too valuable for a bootblack.
He kept his promise and got Elsie the mink coat and a flashy diamond ring and watch and a wardrobe of show-off gowns. This was not so much a means of showing his appreciation or love, but rather a means of further advertising his success and flattering his burgeoning ego.
In spite of the fact that his egomania alienated a lot of people, it impressed a lot of others. His agency became one of the most active and successful in the city. The Myers account became just one of a dozen or so large corporate plans which he sold. During this period, they moved several times, settling finally into one of the most expensive apartments on fashionable Beacon Hill.
Elsie was given a new Cadillac and provided with a uniformed chauffeur until she learned to drive. Her charm and beauty more than made up for his arrogant self-esteem and, largely because of this, they were accepted socially and climbed the ladder rapidly. Their pictures became a common sight on the society pages and Harold had these carefully mounted in a large scrapbook. He was blithely unaware that his success was due far more to Elsie's body than to his brain.
On the heels of his all-consuming drive to demonstrate his success to men, came the desire to prove his dominance over attractive members of the opposite sex. Society matrons and actresses seemed to be his favorites. He began phoning Elsie with lame excuses about being suddenly called out of town for several days on a big deal as he went through a succession of paramours and mistresses. Their sex life deteriorated rapidly.
Elsie still had a nympho's appetite for sexual attention and this increased as the years slipped by. True to her promise, she got together with Gates as often as he could afford the time. The difference in their ages began to catch up with them. Often he couldn't get that thick cock of his hard even after she had sucked on it for an hour or more. He tried to relieve her frustrations by going down and sucking her cunt more frequently than he was able to fuck her now. She came to the final realization that she needed more than a tongue to satiate the throbbing appetites of her boiling cunt. She needed a good hard prick inside her. By the time she reached her thirtieth birthday, he was past sixty, and they slowly drifted apart.
By now Harold was more than a millionaire. He lavished furs, jewelry, and expensive clothes on her lovely body and she spent half her time in the beauty shop. She appreciated the luxurious life, even though she realized full well that the beautiful gifts were more to impress others than to be enjoyed by her as tokens of love. For Christmas one year, he had a full-length portrait of her painted by Boston's most prominent artist. As a final vulgar display of wealth, he contracted with the artist to come in each six months and update the clothes, jewels, and hair-do, in a sort of a reverse on Oscar Wilde's Portrait of Dorian Gray.
On the night of one of the leading social events of the year, Elsie found herself drinking a lot more than usual. By the time they left the party, she was quite drunk. On the way home, she reached over and stroked his cock. Harold pushed her hand away harshly, saying, "Please! Do you want to cause me to have an accident?"
"In the old days in the Plymouth you didn't seem to worry so much about it," she pouted.
"That was different. In those days we didn't have anything to lose. Now we are rich; they could clobber us."
"Shit. Sometimes I almost wish we were poor again. At least we were happy then."
Once they got home, Elsie went to the fancy marble and gold-plated bathroom. She removed her clothes and hung them on the swan-shaped hooks. Then she let down her long platinum hair. It hung to her ass. Drunkenly, she inspected her figure in the full-length mirrors. It was a far cry from when she had to look at the rented mink coat in the bathroom mirror back on Commonwealth. Her big tits didn't droop a bit, thanks to several silicone injections designed to keep them pumped up. Her skin was as smooth and tight as it had been at eighteen. This was a credit to the most expensive lotions and cosmetics that the cosmeticians could recommend. She was pleased with what she saw in the mirror and, hair hanging, she went into the bedroom and sat, nude, on the side of the bed.
Harold emerged from his bathroom. His short, dumpy body did not look nearly as good as hers. Once he removed the expensive custom-tailored suit and the clincher shorts, he was a fat, balding middle-aged man. Even so, he was her husband and she wanted him right now. She wanted him to take her between the sheets and pump her like he used to do before they had become so fucking rich that they never fucked anymore.
Instead, he strutted around the room like a little naked Napoleon. He could not seem to remove the mantle of his success even in the privacy of their marital boudoir.
"Harold, what's happened to us? What the hell do I have to do to get you to throw a real good fuck into me... buy a hundred thousand dollar insurance policy?" The bitterness in her voice came, at long last, to the surface.
"Aw, c'mon, honey. You're stoned and I'm pooped. It's been a long hard day. Tomorrow I have a lot of big important appointments and we want the money. Right now, I need my rest." He had started to snore before his head touched the pillow. Elsie made her way to the bathroom and took a big red Seconal sleeping tablet. They had certainly come a long way from when they were clerks at Sears. She wasn't sure in which direction their progress had been.
She had been happy with the ambitious Harold in the early days when the promise of wealth and luxury had been a dream always just beyond the horizon. Now they had crossed over that horizon and all of the dreams were right here in their laps and yet they seemed to have lost far more than they had gained. She knew that Harold was chippying on her and had been for some time. Modern society seemed to accept that as a successful man's prerogative and yet the hot yearning deep in her crotch argued their judgment.
Harold was gone when she awakened to the insistent ringing of the phone the next morning. Her head was splitting. Before she picked up the phone, she saw Harold's note. He had a very important business meeting that night and would not be home until very late. Answering the phone, she heard the silky smooth voice of that bitch Marie Scott. She and her handsome husband, Bill, were newcomers to their social crowd. Elsie sensed that Marie envied her position in the social scale and was anxious to usurp it. Regardless of this, she was, at the moment, a lonely and neglected woman.
Marie extended an invitation for just the four of them to have dinner in their apartment, when she explained that Harold was unavailable because of a meeting, Marie fairly glowed on the phone. "But, darling, that's wonderful. We cannot bear to think of you being left alone. You must come and have dinner with us. It will be a very simple, informal affair."
Elsie could hardly believe the voice she heard was her own as it replied, "I'd be delighted."
The Scotts lived in an equally fashionable, though less spacious and expensive apartment. Elsie arrived, overdressed as usual for the occasion. Bill and Marie both told her how beautiful she looked and Bill prepared rather strong drinks. They had wine with dinner and a few heavy after-dinner drinks. Elsie became quite intoxicated and a little sick. By nine-thirty she had passed out.
A little after ten she came to, stark naked, in a strange bed. Bill, equally naked, was beside her. His hands were in her juicy quim and she was surprised to find that her own were massaging and stroking his long thin prick. Her senses returned slowly. She was puzzled by the fact that, while both of his hands seemed to be in her crotch, others were rubbing and caressing her tits.
At this point she didn't really give a damn. It had been a long time since she'd held a stiff cock and she found herself guiding it to her sticky snatch. She needed a hard prick more than anything else in the world right now. Bill seemed more than anxious to oblige. She felt the swollen head of his long charger slip into the open lips of her vagina and slowly work its way into her starving cunt. It was all so wonderful and overdue that she was only vaguely conscious of the occasional bright flashes of lights. At first she thought they must be in her brain.
Bill was giving her a sound fucking... the first she had had in many months. She bucked under him in wild abandon and then, at last, she felt him swell and expel his juice deep inside her. It was like heaven revisited. She returned his favors by delivering a long-stored orgasm and then collapsed, in semi-consciousness, against the pillow and mattress.
When she came to, a soft tongue was massaging her clit and the moist crevice beneath it. She found herself lifting her buttocks to meet the tongue and to savor the delights it was delivering. Again there were the flashes of bright lights just beyond her consciousness. She was thrashing wildly beneath that tongue now. Her orgasm was close at hand. At last, one of the flashes brought her back to full consciousness and she looked down at her crotch to see not Bill but Marie licking and sucking her seething cunt. She had never had an experience with a lesbian and tried to fight her off, but the excitement had gone beyond the fever pitch and soon, in spite of herself, she felt her orgasm flood into the other woman's mouth. She was filled with a mysterious mixture of satisfaction and shame. Only then did she see Bill with the flash camera beside the bed. She recoiled in horror and struck out against them, but to no avail. Bill straddled her chest. She felt his ponderous balls on her heaving tits and then the head of his cock as he forced it into her mouth and began to irrumate her with his hot rod. Despite her fear and revulsion, she found herself gobbling that stiff member and sucking on it voraciously as Marie took up the camera and made a full picture record of the event.
Hours later, when they helped her dress and drove her home, Marie purred in her ear, "You are going to propose me for president of the Junior League, aren't you, darling?"
The impact of the social blackmail was unmistakable. Elsie assured her that she would and Marie promised the full set of pictures and negatives once her election was secured.
At home in bed, Elsie sobbed herself to sleep. She needed love and sex desperately at this stage of life, but it was obvious she could not get these from her own social peers. Where then, should she turn?
The next day Elsie put on her simplest outfit and went on a shopping tour of the local charity thrift shops. For fifty dollars she assembled a passable middle-class wardrobe. She smuggled this back into the fancy apartment and waited for her chance to fight back at the Establishment that had hurt her.
Ten days passed before Elsie had a chance to put her plan into action. Finally, one night she dressed in a simple shopgirl outfit and went to a middle-class bar in the commercial section of town. Within an hour, she had made a pick-up. The lonely traveling salesman took her to a second-rate hotel. He thought that she was a whore and Elsie, in order to protect her cover, accepted his ten dollars before removing her used clothing.
He was middle-aged and had soft, unhealthy-looking skin, but he was well hung. She wanted that cock in her cunt. She went down and slid her lips over it, tonguing it anxiously. At last it became rock hard. Now she wanted it inside of her snatch, but he had other ideas. He grabbed her by the ears and kept forcing her head down on his cock until he blew his load in her mouth. The taste of his come was foul, like stale cigarette butts soaked in flat, cheap beer. Nevertheless it was male come and she swallowed it anxiously.
It took nearly a half hour to get him hard again. This time she dragged him to her aching cunt. She was so juicy in the desperation of her need that he slipped in easily and soon he was fucking her violently. She came twice before he erupted with the foul fluid deep inside of her.
He was more than pleased with his conquest when she left him and took a cab home. The big apartment was empty and she douched for twenty minutes to wash the filth from her snatch, but then she slept soundly and happily.
The following week Harold was elated that she made the list of one of the city's ten best-dressed women. God knows he spent enough on her clothes, but her victory was a tribute to the behind the scenes work of his press agent.
Only a fly on the wall would have observed one of Boston's ten best-dressed women slipping into second-hand thrift shop clothes a week later to go again in search of much needed sex. The situation was far from a happy one, but Elsie had a desperate need to be fucked. Her sex life was not a proud one but it was better than none at all.
Elsie, of course, realized that, since she was well known to the reporters and photographers of the local papers, it was only a matter of time until one of them would recognize her playing the whore role in the commercial district of town. In order to minimize these risks, she constantly moved her base of operations until, at last, she was getting into some rather unsavory neighborhoods.
One night, just as she was getting into her tacky costume, she was surprised by the door chime. Going to the door, she was a bit shocked to find Bill Scott leering at her from the threshold.
"Bill, what on earth are you doing here? I thought our deal was finished," she exploded.
Bill was obviously drunk. He stared at her through bleary eyes as he explained, "Elsie, I'm in a bind. Marie's social aspirations are more than I can afford to support. I have been hard pressed as to just where to turn for money. Then I happened to find a few extra prints of the pictures of our private party. I wanted to do the right thing and bring them to you."
"Thanks," she said, extending her hand for the filthy prints.
"Not so fast, my big-titted friend," he barked, pulling the pictures back tightly against his chest.
"What do you want now, Bill?" she asked in a defeated voice.
"I need a loan of five hundred bucks and I need it right now," he stated defiantly.
"Come in, Bill. I'll write you a check." She went to her desk and wrote the check. Approaching him, she held it tightly in one hand, while extending the other for the damaging prints. He delivered them and accepted the check. Elsie wondered if the blackmail would ever really end. She felt nothing but revulsion for the character in front of her.
In spite of her revulsion, she could not help but notice the growing bulge in his pants. She remembered the wonderful thrills that his cock could give her starving cunt. She moved close to him and took the swollen member in her grasp. He stood silently while she unzipped his fly and took it out. She led him to the couch, saying, "For five big ones, I ought to at least get the use of one big one."
His stiff prick was up her skirt and pressing at the hungry lips of her vagina within instants. She spread her thighs wide and rolled back to make his entry into her easier. He threw her a hell of a fuck then, driving solidly into her creamed quim. It was almost worth the five hundred, the way she felt that stiff hot cock thrusting into her long-neglected cunt. She wanted it to last forever and hoped he wouldn't blow his load too soon. In spite of attempted mental control, her desperate anxiety to feel the blessed relief of a cock-induced orgasm caused her, involuntarily, to fuck like a mink. She threw her ass up to him while her over-anxious cunt grabbed and clutched at the welcome intruder so violently that he shot his hot wad into her before she could come.
"Oh, shit, that's not fair! You were supposed to make me come, not just use my pussy as some soft glove to jerk yourself off with. Give me some more. I want to see the colored lights flash."
"Mebbe some other time, Elsie. I gotta meet a guy and I'm late now. I'll come and see you soon, though. I promise."
"Yeah, I bet you will, you lousy bloodsucker. You'll just happen to find more prints of those pictures and then you'll come and see me every time you're broke. What a prick you are. Even so, if all I mean to you is money, I'll give you another hundred right now if you'll fuck me until I come real good. As long as you're a blackmailer, you may as well be a male whore, too." Her voice had risen until she was screaming the last at him. She hoped that the walls were soundproof.
Bill glanced at his watch and then down at his pants. He wasn't as worried about the time as he was the energy. Following his glance, Elsie realized the source of his doubts. She moved close to him and patted his cock through his pants as she purred. "Don't worry about Junior. I'll suck it until I get him good and hard. After all, I don't want a soft cock fuck, either."
"Can you give me the hundred in cash so that Marie won't know about it?"
"Okay, Bill. In cash." She unzipped his fly as she said it.
He reached down and zipped it up again, snarling at her, "I want the dough first. If I'm gonna work like a whore, I'm gonna operate like one. After all, it's pretty hard to repossess a piece of ass."
Her first inclination was to order him out of her apartment, but the urgent itching deep between her legs had to be scratched and he had the only tool available that would reach it. She was torn between revulsion and lustful craving as she found her purse and dug out the cash.
She licked, sucked, chewed, and swallowed on his limp prick for almost a half hour before it got even hard enough to get into her cunt. Even now it was going to be like getting a marshmallow into a slot machine. She knew that his mind was not on fucking her, but rather on what he planned to do with her money. She gave up trying to get it any harder and let it slide from her mouth as she pulled him by the semi-soft handle to her seething snatch. Even then they had trouble getting it in. Once inside, the pumping of her cunt lining affected him little more than her mouth had.
"Not only do you operate like a whore... you even fuck like one!" she screamed at him. "C'mon, goddammit, I want a C-note's worth of cock."
He tried, but either his heart wasn't in it or his balls weren't with it. In spite of his efforts, Elsie had to do most of the work. She would have been as well off with a banana or weiner as with his limp prick but, at last, with extreme effort, she did achieve a minimal orgasm. It was not at all like what she had bargained for. He softened still more and slipped out of her wet gash. He had made no effort to come nor did she give a damn. He put his dead bird back in its nest, zipped up, and left the apartment without a word.
Bill Scott's unwelcome visit had only served to what Elsie's appetite for sex. Once she heard the door close behind him, she went in and examined herself in the mirror. She was still dressed in the second-hand clothes. She looked like a waitress out on the prowl. It was her image. She left and took a cab down to a middle-class commercial neighborhood. She seated herself in a booth and ordered a vodka martini on the rocks. She pulled the brim of the hat down over her face, just as she had the night that she and Harold had gone to the dirty movie.
Halfway through her first drink the waiter came to her table and announced that two young gentlemen at the bar would like to buy her a drink. She checked them out quickly. They were about thirty and very clean-cut-looking in appearance. She nodded her head in acceptance of the drink. Minutes later, one of them approached her.
"Hi. I'm Joe Bernard and my friend, Ron Evans, and I are in town for a computer engineering met-ting. We are from Minneapolis and feel like a couple of lost lambs here in Boston. You looked lovely and lonely. We were hoping that maybe you had a girl friend and could join us for dinner."
"I'm sorry, Joe, but I guess I am sort of a lone wolf. I don't have a girl friend, but perhaps there is enough of me to go around. I have no plans for dinner or later and, if the two of you would settle for just one girl, I am available."
They took her to dinner at the old Oyster House down on the pier. Elsie didn't know whether it was the shellfish or the obvious virility of the two young men that got to her, but fifteen minutes later she was in their room in a middle-class downtown hotel.
The young men were shy, but she wanted and needed their virile young bodies desperately. She removed her cheap used clothing before them and paraded around the small room in the full splendor of her nakedness. They pretty quick got the message and peeled down to the buff. Their young pricks were not as embarrassed as their minds and soon were erected to a beautiful condition.
Elsie took them both by the hand and led them to one of the twin beds. She turned down the covers and slid between them, spreading herself wide as she did do. They saw the juicy gash between her legs and looked at each other, as though asking which should be first. The one named Joe hopped in and she felt the head of his throbbing cock pressed into the fur-lined tunnel to her sex. She spread her thighs even wider in her need for him and soon the hot rod of his young manhood was boring into her quivering quim.
Oh, how the thrilling feeling of a stiff, hot prick plunging into her hot little box excited her. Her hands went up to grasp his ass and urge him ever deeper into her wanton womb. He had an average-sized cock and began taking six-inch strokes in and out of her garnet gash. She closed her eyes and savored the feeling of a stiff prick plunging deep into her wet velvet vulva. She returned his every stroke and reached her orgasm moments before he spewed forth his own liquid manhood deep inside of her hungry cunt. Even after he had come, she threw her legs around him and tried to keep the deflated member in her wet snatch. The thrill of the moment had made her completely forget his friend.
She let out a deep sigh as he let his shrunken staff escape from her tender trap. Within seconds, she felt a new and harder manly tool replace it and drive demandingly into her innermost womanhood.
This time she came in a mammoth, explosive orgasm as the second man erupted deep in her cunt. By now Joe was hard again from watching his friend, and he soon replaced the softening spent cock with a newly aroused one. He-gave her one hell of a ride before she felt him blast his sperm way down inside her, then shrivel. Moments later his friend replaced him in the saddle and she was carried to the utmost heights of ecstasy as she orgasmed magnificently over the deeply embedded cock of a man whose name she could not even recall.
These young computer engineers had little imagination but lots of vitality. They alternated at giving her fuck after fuck until 'way past midnight. Her legs were jelly when she crawled out of bed and dressed to go home.
When she arrived home, Harold was staggering around the living room, obviously frustrated. Elsie assumed that he must not have made the bid with his intended conquest of the evening. She knew that she should have flown into a wifely jealous rage. In her present feeling of sexual satiation however, she felt nothing but compassion for the poor boy.
It was almost immediately obvious that Harold was horny but too drunk to really do anything about it. He did not even notice that her clothes were surely not the type he had bought for her as he almost ripped them from her luscious body. Once he had her stripped on the couch, he tried desperately to get into her well-creamed cunt, but his limp cock could not make the entry.
After ten minutes of futile effort, Elsie could not help but feel sorry for the poor guy. She bent down and swept the soft shaft into the hot damp confines of her oral chasm. Even her most expert efforts failed to arouse his sleeping giant. After fifteen minutes, she gave up and let the soft salami slip from her tender lips.
Harold was embarrassed at his inability to perform. In order to effect a cover-up for his own deficiencies, he burrowed his face into her hairy gash and licked and sucked on her soft, silky snatch in a way that was more demanding than caressive. Sensing his needs, Elsie, even though her sexpot was beautifully satiated, thrust her tender thighs up to his marauding tongue. She came twice in his mouth before she collapsed against the cushions of the couch and he had to take her to bed. That night she slept more soundly than even the Seconal-induced sleep of the past months. She would never let Harold know it, but it had taken three men to quell the fires that raged 'way down inside her thighs.
They slept in each other's arms that night. It was like the old days. Elsie dreamed that they were back at Sears and living in the crazy old apartment on Commonwealth, filled with the smell of paint remover.
When she awakened in the morning, the sun was pouring in the bedroom window. They had forgotten to close the expensive drapes.
Still half awake, she reached over to his crotch. To her delight, his cock was stiff and erect. Oh God, how she wanted to feel that rod deep in her cunt. She had heard the rumors of his affair with a Hollywood sexpot who was doing a show in Boston. She knew him well enough to realize that he would try to save all his virility for this young cunt and not waste it on her, his wife. Under the circumstances, she did all that she could do. She slipped down between his spread legs and took his sweet swollen meat between her lips. She tongued and licked at him voraciously before she started taking the long strokes that started at his swollen gland and ended at his enflamed balls. Even in his sleep, his hands reached out and grasped her sucking head, forcing it down onto his cock in her mouth.
Once she felt his warm come gush out into her caressing mouth Elsie knew that, at least, this was one load he could not give to any other broad. She swallowed it as though it were the contents of a victory cup. Here, at least, was a part of Harold that nobody else could ever possess.
Shortly after Harold came into her mouth, he awakened. He had been enjoying beautiful dreams and had not been aware that his wife had milked him of his manhood.
A little bit of sex is a strange thing... it merely whets your appetite for a lot of sex. That was what Elsie felt now. The itch between her two big toes had grown bigger and bigger.
The compassionate desire that Elsie felt for sex now was the principal motivating factor of her life. Harold could have given her everything she needed in this department, but he failed her. Even after she had sucked his cock this morning, he awoke to tell her of his busy schedule for the day. He dressed and left the apartment without even a kiss.
All day Elsie figured how to win him back. She worked over the apartment to the extent that it left nothing to be desired. A little after two that afternoon, Harold called with another lame excuse. He might not be home for several nights. She knew his story was a phony one and she seethed inside for a way to show him that he was not the little emperor he thought himself to be.
She dressed in her down-graded uniform and went out on the town. Fuck Harold, she would find her own sex life.