Chapter 8
I shook my purse out on the bed and sorted through the contents. There was a wallet without pictures, my driver's license, sixty-eight dollars and forty cents. Part of that ought to pay my bill at Hope House. And there was an address book, important because it held names and numbers of magazine publishers I could never remember; lipstick and loose bobby pins, a crumpled hankie, a half bottle of aspirins, a press card long revoked and some stamps.
Not much to show for twenty-eight years of life, Patti Cooper.
I'd have to make some phone calls and hope a couple of editors were holding checks for me, betting the price of long distance they were. Then Dan could tell me where to find a cheap room, and I'd wait there for the checks, if any. If not....
The pattern would start all over again. I'd wake up nearly broke and worried, trying to make a bottle last while I sweated out a short story and sent it off, drinking carefully and working hard until I had a stake. Working that way, I might keep off that insidious urge that crawled in my belly and made me squeeze my thighs together, that made my breasts swell and ache. Then there would be the big drunk, with men to ease my body and blot out its driving needs, as the liquor blotted out my mind.
She said from behind me, "That won't help, you know. You, won't find a better place to hide."
I turned to see Darla standing in the doorway, slim, and aristocratic; it was difficult to picture this older woman as an alcoholic, but she had to be. She was here "You think I'm running because of Johnny? I didn't rape him, you know."
She came into the room and the door closed behind her. "Only Janet blames you for that, and I think she's about halfway in love with Johnny. I--I understand how the need for sex can overwhelm people, at times."
Darla was a good looking woman, one who held herself proudly, but with a certain with-drawn quality, as if she was afraid of being touched. She had smooth legs and small, erect breasts and a way of carrying herself that said she was a lady. But I wondered about that. I saw something else, when I looked a little deeper.
"I have a home close by." Darla said. "If you'd like to stay there for awhile--"
I chewed my lip. That would be a break, so I said, "Why, Darla?"
"It's--it's a very empty place," she said quietly. "My husband left it to me after the divorce, and we never had children. I--I would be happy to drive you there."
We slipped out without a word to anyone, nobody ran a nose count at Hope House. It wouldn't have done any good. Alkies are. alkies, and when the mood strikes them, they'll take off if there are no iron bars in the way. It's not physical confinement that sobers us, but a mental attitude.
Darla's home was plush, hidden back among sea-blown cypress, and smelling musty as she let us in with her key. Showing me through what was really a pint-sized mansion, she talked a lot, bright and brittle and not really saying much.
I said, as we stood in the deeply carpeted living room, "Darla, you're looking at the bar."
She drew a deep breath, one that thrust her small but shapely breasts against the sheer material of her blouse. "Yes--yes, I am, and I'm looking at you, too."
That familiar tremble started somewhere deep in my belly, and I felt the flesh of my thighs go tense. I swear, I could smell the whiskey behind that mahogany bar, and my nostrils flared. I had been right. Darla was a lesbian.
"Take a good look," I said, "but how about, through a glass, darkly?"
Her small hands clenched and she went through some kind of short, severe battle within herself. Then she walked stiffly over to the bar and reached beneath it to place a full bottle of good bourbon on top. "Okay," she breathed. "I couldn't take being dry much longer, anyway."
That first drink was a hot, wet bomb going off in my belly, and I felt its warmth spreading throughout my body, stopping the shakes right away, relaxing me. I breathed the rich fumes through my nose and sighed, leaning against the bar. "That's better," I said, "that's one hell of a lot better."
She had two quick ones, and color came to her face; her lips seemed to redden, and her eyes grew larger. "You know that I want you, Patti?"
"Of course," I answered. "But first a small celebration. We're out of the lecture hall and on our own. Here's to us."
"Not us alone," she almost whispered. "I--I have two young friends, Patti. td like you to meet them; they're brother and sister, and I, well, I have to pay them, but I don't mind that. Pm getting old, and they, they're very young, and they like money."
My eyebrows crawled up, but the bourbon was already doing its good work, numbing me where it might hurt, spreading a protective layer over any kind of sensibilities I night have left. "Why not?" I said. "We'll make it a real party."
I couldn't help wondering about Darla, though. Was she AC/DC, or did she have some weird twist of her own, some deviation that made her want to watch others swing, in order to get herself really turned on? It didn't make a hell of a lot of difference, I decided, and helped myself to another drink.
She went to the phone and whispered into it, and when she came back to the bar, she was trembling. "They're coming over," she murmured. "I'm so excited; they're so lovely and so--so very sensuous; they'll just adore you, I know."
It was her party, and I primed myself for it, nibbling at some cheese crackers she put out, marveling at how my appetite was coming back, saluting myself with a long pull at iced bourbon. I didn't expect the kids that slipped in through the garden doors. I mean I didn't expect them to be so damned pretty that they hurt the eyes.
The boy was slim and golden, his tanned skin flawless and his sea-green eyes sparkling. He wore a modeled face and cupid lips. His body was sleek and narrow, and he was about eighteen years old.
The girl was a pert creature with an elfin face and short golden curls. She was a doll, a pixie whose bare legs flashed beneath her micro-shorts as she skipped up to Darla. I stared in fascination as she held up her mouth and Darla kissed her.
"There," the girl said, "I missed you, Darla. I missed you terribly."
"I know, dear," Darla said, stroking the bare skin of the girl's back. I watched the bandana halter, where her breasts were. That body was exquisite, put together in gorgeous miniature, so young and eager.
"This is Angel," Darla said to me, "and her brother Kent. They're neighbors. And kids, this is Patti."
The boy stood with his bare feet apart, his eyes fixed upon me. "She's very beautiful. I'm glad you're bringing us someone else, Darla."
I took another drink and found a cigarette. Kent got to the matches first and held one for me. I thanked him and got a little uncomfortable upon my barstool. He was so damned young, and with his sister there--for whom? Darla, or me; or both of us? That familiar tremble vibrated deep within my vagina and lifted the nipples of my breasts, turning them hard and almost painful. I had never swung with anyone this young before, and the idea was more than a little intriguing.
"I'll pull the drapes," Angel volunteered, and her brother said, "I'll undress them."
He came to me and put his hands on my breasts with such a simple, innocent motion that I wasn't even surprised. I sat with a new excitement throbbing through my body as this beautiful boy caressed my tips, weighing them in his palms and stroking the erectile nipples with his gentle fingers. As my breath caught in my throat, he unbuttoned my blouse and reached around to unsnap my bra. His eyes clung to mine, that smoky, sea-green color containing a special warmth, a special kind of knowledge.
I let Kent slip my blouse from my shoulders. He only brushed the naked tits with his butterfly fingertips, then urged me with his hands to stand up from the barstool. My knees shook a little when I did, and he was deft with my skirt, slipping it down my legs until I stepped out of it. My panties were next, and my skin seemed to vibrate as he pulled them away. I hadn't even looked over at Darla and the pretty girl. I was entranced by this lovely boy and his smooth, quiet movements.
Kent seemed to know exactly how I would react, as if he had a direct line into my emotions and had no fear that I would resist or laugh at him, or do anything to break the silken netting of this sensuous spell he was weaving. He was smiling, and I felt a quick sense of loss as he stepped back to tilt his head and stare at my exposed body. I wanted to keep knowing his touch, to continue feeling his soft hands upon my flesh.
"You're lovely," he said. "Your skin is marble white, and your cunt hair is so black. I've never had a lovely woman before, except for Darla, and I never exactly fucked her."
He climbed out of his pants. His t-shirt looked like a miniskirt, but his lovely young prick was lifting it. Kent removed that, too, and stood before me in the pride of his bare and beautiful body. His cock was long and thin, but the head of it spread like a red flower, and the balls below were covered by a beguiling fur of golden fleece. I took a step toward him, and then another, the whiskey running riot in my blood, but no more powerful than the pull this strange boy had for me.
Darla caught my arm and pulled me to a stop. Bewildered, I turned to stare at her. She was nude, too, and her body had been well taken care of, massaged and creamed and oiled so that only a minimum of wrinkles showed. Her breasts were small but nicely molded, and their nipples were dark. Then I saw her nest, and something clicked within me; her pubic hair was thick and curly, and the sheen of polished silver. I shivered, caught up in an emotion I couldn't understand.
"You should watch them first," Darla said throatily, her damp mouth working. "They fuck so wonderfully, with such intense dedication."
She drew me over to a long, low couch, and I sank nerveless upon it,. my nipples aching and a drumbeat of passion thumping within my well lubricated pussy. I saw the girl move toward her brother, and ran my eyes over the slim, almost thin shaping of her body. Angel's skin was perfectly smooth, burnished by the sun and flawless. Her mound was shadowed with only a faint suggestion of hair, obviously shaved not a month before.
She was still a girl, I thought, but she walked with a womanly grace, with that innate suggestion of sex that announced she was sure of herself as a woman and certain of her sensual power. Angel was a charming little nymphet, and for the first time I could understand what could compel a male adult to fall in love with a teenager.
Darla's breast slid across my bare arm as she handed me a glass of whiskey, and I accepted it gratefully. She sat beside me, pressing her smooth thigh to mine, and I didn't move away. My heart was thundering inside my ribs, and my eyes were fixed upon the two young lovers as they moved together and sank to the thick carpet.
Leaning close, Darla whispered warmly in my ear: "They've been fucking for almost a year. Can you imagine that? It's better because they're brother and sister--better for them, and for us." She put an arm around my shoulders and cupped one hand on my breast.
Kent and Angel were kissing, running their hands over each other in adoring, slow caresses; their mouths were open and I could see the exploration of their pink tongues. They were gorgeous together, every move they made a symphony of grace, and when Angel slid beneath her brother to open her willowy thighs, my breath hung in my throat.
She had hold of his long, thin cock, stroking it lovingly with both hands, guiding its spread flower head into the flushed cunt lips that I could plainly see. Her pelvis tilted upward as she inserted his cockhead into her labia, and Kent shoved down with a steady but gentle movement of his sleek hips.
Slowly, his shiny glans disappeared into the pink cunt lips, as they stretched to take it inside. That almost hairless pussy expanded just enough, and the length of Kent's hard shaft slid into it until his fleecy balls came to gentle rest in the crack of her fragile ass.
They writhed together, and Darla's hand played over my tit; her other hand reached between my thighs, and I opened for it, let it fondle over my pulsating mound as I stared enthralled at the way these two fucked. Their bodies meshed and blended smoothly; their mouths were locked sweetly, and Angel's ass swung in tight, graceful circles. It was like watching two sexy gods out of some ancient mythology.
Moaning, Angel began to move faster, to step up the grinding rhythm of her pelvis, and that long prick of her brother's pumped steadily in and out of the now inflamed pussy lips that curled wetly and jealously around its swollen shaft.
I watched his furry young balls swing, saw how he caressed his sister's girlish ass with his hands, and leaned forward as he seesawed quicker, as his breath rasped in his throat, knowing that he was fast approaching the sublime moment. His balls swung into the dainty cleft of her surging ass, and Kent hesitated; then his testicles jerked upward, and I could sense the driving power of the semen that hissed through his prick and went leaping from that cockhead buried so deeply into Angel's pussy.
She rocked with him, her head thrown back and her arms around his slim waist, timing her own orgasm so that it shattered all reality at the same moment his did. They were static then, a lovely statue of entwined lovers.
Darla's voice was scratchy in my ear, and her finger was deep into my vagina. "Didn't I tell you? They fuck so well, so superbly."
"Yes," I murmured, "but is that how you get your kicks, just watching them?"
"Oh no," she said, "oh no. Sometimes I join them. They're quite adaptable."
I wanted that stud. Maybe I wanted him more than I had ever wanted to screw anyone in my life--almost anyone. And I wondered how quickly he recovered, if I would get the chance to take that stiff prick into my cunt and really work it over. I wanted his head between my legs, and I actually yearned to take his lovely shaft into my mouth.
The liquor was running riot in me, and I didn't give a damn that he was probably a symbol, that he was youth while Darla was age, and I was more than halfway to her status. I only knew that I had to fuck him, and to cradle his sister in my arms. I wanted them both, dammit.
Darla was tuned in on my mind, and murmured that I could have them both, that their parents were abroad, that they often spent nights in her home while the housekeeper slept. And all the time her hand was loving up my pussy, feeling into it, slipping around inside the excitement of my satin lined vagina and teasing my clit.
Kent and Angel pulled themselves apart, and he came to his knees, his adorable cock still erect, dripping now with a creamy juice.
"I need another drink," I said. Darla took her fingers out of my pussy to bring me one. When she got back from the bar, I had stretched out on the couch with a pillow under my head. I was ready for anything, my head gone light and my body loose. I was getting smashed, and didn't much care, because that's how it felt best for me.
When she reached down my glass, her silvery-haired pussy was only inches away. I tossed off the drink in a hurry, belting it right down, and reached for her narrow hips. I felt the crispness of those polished hairs against my tits, and pressed hard into them.
"Let me do you first," Darla said, her hands shaking, swaying a little on her feet with her patrician face flushed and her lips damp.
"Come on," I said, letting her go with reluctance and turning my head to see the two standing by. They were so relaxed and natural, totally unconcerned with their nakedness, and showing only a close interest in what was going on between Darla and me.
Groaning, Darla hunkered upon the couch, parting my legs with eager hands, stroking them up over the silken knees and along the warm full thighs. She moaned again when she suddenly buried her face into my crotch and lanced her stiffly searching tongue deep into my pussy. As she ate into my cunt, licking and nibbling, I rolled my ass and blindly reached out both hands. Then Kent took them, holding my hands while Darla sucked my pussy, as she rolled its lips into her avid mouth and pushed them back with her trained tongue. She found my clit and worked on it. I humped into her mouth and closed my thighs around her head. Angel now stroked one of my hands.