Chapter 9
The early morning breeze flapped the curtain of Lori's bedroom. Across the city, moving like billowing ships, the undersides of clouds were being tinted lavender and light orange as the rising sun began to paint them in delicate patterns. On the street far below, traffic was grumbling.
Lori awakened on her mussed bed, her body molding itself into the flat plateau where she had experienced so much that had been new to her. Her muscles complained; her bones ached. Waking up had been going en for several hours. She had fought it, shivering. Total awakening would mean facing a new day that her confused mind was not prepared to meet. She could not be sure what she would confront when she finally opened her eyes.
The errant breezes, chill with morning, wafted across the room, touching her like wet feathers, then drifting on. They stirred the odors of her apartment, blending them into odious smells-cigarette smoke, carbonic and soar, spilled liquor, sweat and the faint aroma of sex.
Nausea.
Lori opened her eyes. There was reservation in the act. And hesitation. She looked about the room as though seeing it for the first time. For a few moments, everything looked strange to her. Then she remembered. She recalled in vivid detail what had happened on the bed on which she lay. She became nervous now, wondering if the two men had left. Or were they sitting amiably in the living room, nonchalantly discussing their wild sex practices of the night before?
She squirmed in her bed. She listened for some sound from the next room. There was none. She stretched trying to shake some of the numbness of sleep and strain from her tired body.
Lori dragged herself to the edge of the bed and put her feet on the floor. The bath towel she had worn when she first came from the bathroom lay on the floor a terry-cloth reminder of a night her pain wracked body needed no talisman to remember. She squinted against the brightening daylight. A stab of pain in her head reminded her of the liquor she had consumed. Maybe an other drink would help, she thought.
She went to the bar and made herself a morning bracer, a double Scotch over ice.
The liquor tasted harsh and unpleasant. It stung he mouth and she felt a sudden wave of nausea clutching her stomach. She started to the bathroom, tripped on her way, and found herself sprawled on the floor. She tried to get up, but her stomach convulsed and she knelt on hands and knees, naked, losing the vile yellow fluid her stomach objected to. She could not control the violent spasms that shook her body mercilessly.
She lay there for a long time after, sobbing and trembling. Her head throbbed even more now and her body felt as though it was being attacked by legions of angry demons. She got back up on her hands and knees, averting her eyes from the puddle of vomit on the floor, and started to crawl towards the bathroom. Slowly and laboriously, she made her way toward the cool pink and black tiles of the bathroom floor. She felt them, smooth and slick beneath her trembling hands. Wearily, she dragged herself across the threshold. She clung to the vanity bench, then inched her way along to the edge of the tub. Her forehead rested against the cool porcelain of the tub rim. She sat, rubbing the fever from her brow against the comforting coolness of the tub. The broken mirror flashed jaggedly at her.
She stood up and groped for the knobs of the shower. The sound of water roared in her ears. She adjusted the flow. Then, through painful determination only, she made herself step into the splashing cascade. She let the water play over her body. And when she could hold her head up, she tossed it back and let the shower play full upon her throbbing forehead, soaking her hair.
Cautiously her fingers explored the crevice of her ass where she felt a slight pain. She bent over and soaped the area carefully. Then she stood up, clenched her teeth, and turned the shower to full cold. A blessing of cold spray enlivened her skin.
She stepped from the shower and tried to pat herself dry with a fresh, soft towel. Her body began to tingle and she realized that she was still alive.
She went to the mirror and stared at her reflection in one of the larger fragments. She looked awful, she decided. Not radiant and alive the way she used to look after a night of love with Jim. Not even desirable and luscious the way she had looked after her night with Art Bond. No. This morning she looked worse than she had ever looked in her life. She looked sick and hung-over, dissipated-used up. And no wonder, she thought. She had come full route down the road of sex.
But, even though her body ached and her appearance looked terrible, she could not find it in her to regret the experiences she had gone through. The thought of two men making love to her at the same time sent a tremor through her body.
She dreaded the thought of returning to the living room. There was a lot of cleaning up to do. And the bedroom! She cringed as she stepped back into the arena of sex. The bed was crumpled and stained with the fluids of their love-making. The ashtray was over flowing with butts. A couple of half filled glasses sat on the nightstands. She thought of the mess she had spilled on the floor when she was sick-and winced at the idea that she was the one who had to clean it up.
She wrung a towel out in cold water and went to the spot where she had emptied her stomach. From the closet, she took an old, unbecoming housecoat and slipped it on. It would do for the job that was to be done. Her hair was still wet and stringy from the shower. Her lips showed the puffiness from the kissing and sucking she had done.
Hesitantly, she knelt and began cleaning up the mess she had left. Her stomach lurched. She was almost sick on top of it all.
The doorbell rang.
She sprang to her feet, pulled her robe about her body and tried to smooth her hair down. She drew in a breath, frowned at the mess she had yet to clean up, then reached for the doorknob and gave it a turn.
In the doorway, Jim Cameron greeted her with a startled smile.
"Good grief," he exclaimed. "What happened to you?"
"Oh, no," Lori gasped. She brushed her hand across her forehead. "I didn't expect ... I thought you were going to call."
Jim glanced down at the mess on the floor. Then his eyes traveled around the apartment. His face clouded slightly.
"I was going to," he said. "But I thought it would be better to talk to you in person."
Lori was deeply embarrassed. She hadn't wanted Jim to see her this way. The apartment was a mess, glaring evidence that something other than normal living had been going on in it, a madness that seemed to come screaming at her from all angles now.
"I, ah, slept late," she said lamely.
"Yeah," he said. "So I see."
"I-I spilled something," she said, glancing to the spot at her feet.
Jim smiled knowingly. "It's nice to know that you're not brooding over what happened between us." He nodded his head to the mess behind her.
She shrugged helplessly. She knew Jim wouldn't believe anything she told him. She said nothing.
'This thing between you and Ken, Lori," he said. "Don't you think you'd better lay off?"
"Me lay off? He came to ..."
"Yeah, I know," Jim cut in. "He met you at the plane and you made it interesting enough for him to spend the night here."
"So?"
"So I don't, like it. You know that Ken has always had a thing for you. You've got him so he's carrying his ass on his shoulders. It's having an effect on his work and as long as he's working for me..."
"What he does with his own time should be his business, darling. Maybe I kind of like him, too."
"Oh, bull! The only thing you're interested in is how much dick a guy can give you"
"He's not bad," she teased.
"Goddamn it, Lori, lay off Ken," Jim snapped. "And while you're at it, leave Art Bond alone, too. He's a married man."
She smiled evilly. "Can I help it if men find me attractive?"
"Yeah, especially if you wave your pussy at them."
"There are other things they like, too," she smile. "Did they tell you everything?"
"They didn't tell me a damn thing, but I know you well enough to know they didn't come to see you just to console you. Art has a pretty big mouth, you know. He let everyone in the bar where he hangs out know what a good time he had up here. Naturally, he didn't say anything to me because he knew his ass would be mud if he did."
"Did they say I was good?" she teased again, feigning serious interest in the question.
"Goddamn you, Lori, lay off my employees. If you think you're going to get back at me by whoring around with my help, well, forget it. All I have to do is throw their asses out and get someone else. You'll hurt them not me."
"But they're so much fun, Jim. Honestly, that Art..."
He glared at her. "And another thing, Lori-lay off Lil. You have no reason to get her involved in your own personal vendetta. If you have something to discuss about the settlement, call Cal Winston. Or have your lawyer call him."
She looked at him evenly. A slow, evil smile crept over her face. "Did you know that good lawyer Winston paid me a call? And right here in my apartment, too."
His eyes showed sudden fire. "Good God, Lori, you're not after that poor old guy, too, are you? You must be sick."
"No, darling, I'm not sick. But I was thinking about my future. I was thinking that instead of the cash settlement you gave me, there could be some provision for my own future security, something like bonds or stocks. You deal in that sort of thing and it would be simple for you to set something up for me."
"And that's what you wanted to talk to Cal about?"
"Yes," she said slowly. "Of course, we didn't get around to talking much business. In fact, it took us most of the night just to get acquainted."
"God, you really are sick," he snorted.
"No, just getting what I want out of life."
"So, what you're saying is that you'd like me to invest a part of the money in securities for you. If you're so sold on Ken, why don't you ask him He's knows a good deal about business, you know. I think he could support you and handle a special investment for you at the same time."
"If I wanted to rely on him in this, I would," Lori said sharply. "I'm asking you, Jim." -
"And if I refuse, then you're going to keep on making an ass out of yourself and some of the people who work for me, right?"
"You said it, darling, not me."
"You're a rotten bitch," he snapped. "You think that goddamn pussy is going to buy you everything you want. Well, forget it, sweetheart. Like I said, if you make a whore out of yourself and insist on interfering with my employees, then go right ahead. I can always get new help."
"Fire your best friend? Don't be silly. You wouldn't fire Ken Bowman in a hundred years." 1
Jim sighed hopelessly. "Lori, why can't you just turn your back on what's happened and start a new life for yourself?"
"I am, darling. This is a new life for me, don't you see? I have my freedom, an income, a nice apartment and a whole bunch of handsome men to see that I don't get lonesome. And, you know, I don't have to worry about cooking or looking out for a man like I did when I was married."
"You did very little of that when I was around," he grumped. "In fact, you kept yourself in such a drunken stupor you didn't even know I was around half the time."
Lori smiled at the discomfort she was instilling in her ex-husband. Perhaps she could needle him still more. "By the way, now that you're getting married, where are you going to take your sweet innocent little thing for a honeymoon?"
"Ah, to the islands," he said. "Probably for a month."
"Why, Jim, you didn't take me on a month long honeymoon. You must plan on training her real good."
"We didn't take a month because I couldn't," he said. "I had to take care of the office."
"And who's going to take care of it this time?"
"Art and Ken know enough about the business to handle it."
She smiled slowly, coiled her index finger in her hair She walked across the room and stood beside the small bar. "Well, that's certainly going to be interesting," she said softly.
"And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, I don't know," she shrugged. "Maybe it means that the people who work for you will have more time to themselves. You know, employees always take a few more liberties when the boss isn't around."
"Why, you rotten tramp!" he snarled. 'You know Art Bond has a big mouth. If he wasn't so damned important to the company I'd have let him go a long time ago. I know he chases around. And furthermore, you always said you couldn't stand him before and now you suddenly..
"Find him attractive? Of course, I do. He's all man. Big, broad-shouldered, and he has a nice personality. Oh, maybe he's a little loud sometimes, but it makes him seem more forceful, more of a man."
Jim crossed the room and stood before her. His eyes were like twin blow-torches. His hand shot out and slapped her hard across the face. "You goddamn bitch!"
Simultaneously with the slap, a deep-rooted thrill shot through Lori. It was the first time Jim had ever slapped her-and she liked it!
"You brute bastard!" she said. "Do it again."
He did.
The exhilaration that shot through her made her smile. But Jim misinterpreted the smile as a mockery, a defiance.
"You no-good cunt!" he shouted.
"And you're a good-for-nothing prick!"
Now the anger rose in Jim. He snatched her by the shoulders and spun her to the floor. Quickly, he pounced on her and turned her face down. With one sweep of his hand he yanked the housecoat over her bare ass, then he brought his hand down sharply. Then again.
"Ooh..." she moaned.
"You stinking cunt!" he snarled. "I'm going to beat your ass until you promise to quit fucking up the works in my office!" He raised his hand high, then brought it down with a resounding whack. It delighted him when she screamed, for it meant he was hurting her. He slapped her bare ass several more times.
"Oh, Jim ... Jim ..."
Through his anger, Jim detected that she was not being hurt as much as he thought. He brought both palms down on her reddening flesh in great flailing motions, stinging his own hands as he smacked the bare skin.
"Yes, Jim, darling ... beat me," she cried. "Beat me some more. Ohhh ... Jim-mmm..." "What the .. . ?" "Do it! Beat me, damn it!"
Now he moved his attack to the backs of her thighs, smacking her skin with sharp, stinging cracks.
Lori was writhing on the floor in a strange, swimming motion. Her hands clawed out in front of her, snatching at the pile of the carpeting. Her legs were thrashing bringing new spots under his slapping palms.
"Oh, God, what that does to me," she half sobbed.
"You're crazy," he panted. "You're crazy as hell."
"Yes, yes ... I'm crazy for what you're doing to me More... do it some more!"
"I'd kill you if my hands weren't so damned sore," he complained.
"Your belt, Jim. Use your belt!" She wriggled around and clawed at his belt buckle.
"Jesus Christ, Lori, have you flipped?"
"No, no! I like it!" She dug the belt buckle free with frantic fingers, then pulled the belt out with one long stroke. She doubled it and handed it to him. "Please, I want you to do it some more," she said softly. She flipped her body over and got on her hands and knees.
Jim looked at the reddened cheeks of her ass, the red fingermarks on her thighs. He felt the sting in his hand He raised the belt, winced, then lowered it slowly.
Lori turned her head to look at him. "Damn it, Jim do what I say! I want it!"
The belt rose high in the air and came down sharply. It was like the crack of a whip as the leather met bare skin.
"Again!" she called out He smacked her sharply once more. Then, as the whip continued to rise and fall, Lori inched her hand between her legs. Her fingers dug in the hair of her pussy, found the opening, and began a rhythmic massaging of the clitoris.
"Oh, yes, Jim. Yes! Yes! Yes!" She timed her words with the fall of the whip. Her ass was rocking back and forth now as she worked her finger in and out of her cunt, "Oh, this is heaven! Heaven, heaven, heaven."
Jim could not explain his own actions. He had begun with anger for the woman who was threatening to upset his office. Now, strangely, the anger was being replaced by fascination. The same weird perversion that had gripped Lori was now taking hold of him. As he looked at the ever reddening ass of his ex-wife, he was surprised that there was a slow crawling action taking place in his crotch. He was getting a hard-on!
He watched as she stroked her finger in and out of her pussy. He was fascinated by the rhythmic movements of her ass as his blows fell, lighter now, on her soft skin. Without being fully aware of it, he dug in his pants and took out his cock. He threw his belt to one side, eyeing her slightly open pussy with eyes filled with desire. He moved up behind her and stuck the head of it in her reddish-brown cunt.
'You wild-assed bitch," he growled. "I'm going to fuck you."
'Yes! Do it!" she cried.
He rammed his hard shaft into her in one pressured stroke. His arms snaked around her. His fingers clutched her dangling breasts, squeezed hard.
"Tear them off!" she moaned in a desperate whisper.
"I will, damn you!"
"And fuck me!"
"I'll tear you up," he grunted. "I'll tear that goddamn rotten pussy to shreds for you!" "I'd love it! Do it!"
He pounded into her in harsh, demanding strokes, hurting his own cock skin in the process. He pulled on her tits in hard, gripping snatches.
She let out a groan and moved backward rapidly, almost toppling him onto the floor. "Move!" she said.
"You're a crazy, goddamn bitch," he said. He picked her ass off his lap, hoisted her forward, then drove his rod into her sharply.
She yelped.
"Now, you cunt," he grunted, "you're going to get the fuck of your life." He withdrew partially, then rammed forward again. He held her tits tightly to hold himself in place.
"Oh, God," she moaned. "What a cock!" "It's no different than it ever was." "It's nicer."
"Your cunt is a hot box." "Pound it,"
He plunged into her viciously, squeezing her tits until she screamed. He withdrew one hand and dug his thumb into her asshole. "You want pain, I'll give you pain," he grunted.
"I'm going to wilt your rod," she moaned.
"Not until I'm ready."
"I'll get you ready, you stud bastard."
"Not with that beat-up old sawmill."
He dropped his face onto her back and bit into the flesh. He bit way across her shoulders, biting harder with each move, and driving in and out of her while he did so. He worked in unison with his own thrusts, biting each time he plowed his cock into her, taking as much flesh as his mouth could hold, and sinking his teeth into the smooth texture of her skin.
She was still working her fingers in and out of her cunt at the same time his cock was ramming in and out of her. Now she reached a little farther and took hold of the slippery shaft. She sunk her nails into it.
"Hey, that hurts," he yelped. He snatched her hair and twisted,
"The fuse is getting short," she whispered hoarsely. "Explode then."
Their bodies bucked and heaved, their nostrils flared as loud snorts came from both of them. A searing white flame of lightning shot a million stars through their brains.
"Ohhh," he moaned as though in pain.
There was a moment when they were almost still. Then, as he sucked in his breath, an explosion of gray-white lava spun from his cock and into her slippery channel of love, straining his balls, straining his entire groin area to pump out more hot fluid simultaneously with her spasms.
Then, as Jim rolled off her, dragging his spent cock from her lathered hole, he felt a sudden rush of embarrassment go through him. And anger, too. Lori, cleverly and slyly, had won another battle.