Chapter 18
Cindy woke up the next morning dripping from a wet dream about De. She looked out the window and decided it was time she went away for a trip. It was raining, she was tired and be-sides she felt it was smart to let the hook sink deeper into Phillip's ass by not being so readily available whenever he wanted her. To let him think about her, to wonder where she had gone, what she was doing, and to realize how much he missed her and needed her ... and how much she had become a habit in his life. And besides, who said nuns weren't allowed a two week vacation.
She was impulsive and her mind was made up. She got out of bed, threw on her favorite robe and went into the kitchen to find yesterday's New York Times. Pulling it out of the garbage from under the tomato juice can, she put up the water for coffee and sat down opening up to the travel section. Hawaii? No, too expensive and besides she'd already been there twice., South America? That was out too. She hated mosquitoes. Ah, she found what she was looking for, the Virgin Is-lands. Tearing the ad out of the paper, she poured the hot water into the cup, added one teaspoon of Cremora and two teaspoons of sugar. Ahhhh, did that taste good. She put her feet up on another chair and day-dreamed about the trip. As soon as she was done she'd call and make her reservations. Uh-Ohl What cover story would she tell Phillip? She'd have to be very careful since she hadn't mentioned anything about going away. The sudden news might shake him up too much. Oh, well, she'd think about it for a few minutes and come up with an answer after she finished her shower and then call him.
Finishing the last swallow of coffee, she washed the cup out with hot water and stacked it into her dish washer. Since it was full, she added a cup of soap and turned it on. Today, normally a work day, had been scheduled with Mr. Restler at the bank, but he had cancelled. She already had every-thing scheduled down to the last detail. First her shower, then a quick call to Phillip and then the entire afternoon was going to be used exclusively for catching up on all the soaps she'd been missing on TV.
She walked back into the bedroom, threw her robe on the bed, took off her men's pjs she always wore, tossing them in the laundry, then stood in front of the full length mirror on the closet door. Every morning rain or shine, she did her exercises. It was the only way she found to keep her body tight and wiry, especially since she had a tendency to put on a few pounds without batting an eye.
Hands on hips, begin. Upppp ... downnn ... upppp ... dovvwwwnn ... upppp ... The deep knee bends done, she kicked her arms out to the sides and started in on her jumping jacks. Twenty-four of them out of the way, she shifted into high gear with five minutes of running in place. She burst out laughing watching her boobs flop up and down in the mirror. If only her `studs' could see the hard work and diligent exercise she put in to insure she stayed the best piece of ass in the world. It wasn't only for the men she worked out. Hardly. As young as she was, there were too many young chicks who were still in the prime of life who could give her a run for her money and her men. And when it came to business, she made sure she stayed one up on her competition.
After four minutes of jogging, she was ready to drop. Her lips were dry as parchment, her legs kept forgetting they were supposed to keep her body up and her lungs couldn't suck in the oxygen fast enough. Forty-five seconds to go, she wanted to quit in the worst way, but she wouldn't. Thirty seconds and counting. She was moving on pure guts, nothing else. Fifteen seconds seemed like an eternity. 10 ... 9 ... 8 ... 7 ... 6 ... 5 ... 4 ... 3 ... 2 ... 1. She collapsed into a stupor on the bed. Boy, was she out of shape. She couldn't catch her breath. That did it. Out go the cigarettes. The way she felt, a wet dishrag was in better condition. Not resisting the temptation, she shut her eyes, feeling the beads of perspiration roll down her face. What the hell, she thought, I'm in no hurry. I'll take the shower in two minutes.
Yep, she sure could use that vacation. And she had figured out what she'd tell Phillip, too. She'd keep it nice and simple, with the teeniest flavor of intrigue. Let's see ... something unexpected had come up at the church and they needed a representative to handle it. And she was appointed. It would take two weeks and there weren't any phones where she'd be. And besides, it would be good to get away and do some thinking by her-self, especially since her trip on his yacht. Her story was believable and knowing Phillip, she knew he'd fall for it.
Besides, after all the time they'd spent on the boat, two weeks back, and all the time they'd seen each other in the interim, the smartest thing to do now was to get away ... to drop out of sight. In some respects, things were moving too quickly. And she was getting a bit concerned how he'd been talking lately. Nothing she could put her hand on exactly, but the tone of what she felt in her gut, told her he was .doing some heavy thinking about his old lady.
He might be talking one way about how he feels about staying married, but something quite the contrary was coming out the other side of his mouth. And the one thing she didn't want, the one thing that would blow her plans sky high was him wanting out with his wife and in permanently with her. That kind of shit, she didn't want or need. Going away and giving him the impression that she had to do some thinking on her own, would give him the idea that maybe, just maybe, she wanted out. And knowing how he felt about her now, he'd be willing to do anything she wanted to keep it going.
Enough mental gymnastics. This was a rest period, not a skull session. She switched off her mind, diverting her attention to the full length mirror on the ceiling. It was during moments like this, alone, in the nude, that she psyched herself up to instill the mental sex appeal required to match her body. She watched as she felt the cool sweeping breeze from the window air-conditioner flow across her damp firm breasts and her bushy mound of pubic hair filled with droplets of water. She tried to look at her body as a man would. She wondered what it would be like making love to herself. To be a man. To suck on her soft breasts and squeeze her tiny nipples between her fingers, rolling them gently with oh, the slightest pressure. Then, to stick her fingers into her slit and play with her clit with the gentleness of a child. Just thinking about it excited her mind and tantalized her body. She wondered what it would feel like to spread her legs and rest her body in her saddle, inserting her swollen prick between her lips deep into her slippery box. Oh, she made a point of masturbating two or three times a day. She believed in the sensuous women theory that sex takes practice, and not half assed practice either.
It was impossible to find the answer to the questions she found herself constantly asking her-self during times like this. How could she ever find the answers. She was a woman. She felt as only a woman feels. Never would she be able to know what she was not meant to know. For as the, old saying goes "If my God wanted my grandmother to be my . grandfather, he would have given her balls." Cindy never knew who made it up, but her only answer to that statement was ... maybe he did!
Balls or no balls, she was homey. But that was nothing new, she was in a constant state of horneyness. She had to stay away from old coke bottles. It was an ancient disease that had only one cure. She slipped her fingers down into her pussy rolling the hair into tiny ringlets. Did that feel good. Her nipples responded forming tiny buds pushing up. She took one nipple in her right hand and slid it between her thumb and first fingers. Her lips parted feeling her thick, hot tongue dance back and forth with its tip flicking tickles of pleasure down her spine. First, starting slow, she fingered herself until she felt her lubrication pouring down her fingers like honey. Finger-fucking was the next best thing to the real McCoy. She managed to get four fingers in when she lifted her rump off the bed and grunted as the ripples of electricity charged up and down her legs and pussy as she came. She scooped up fingers full of her own come and brought them to her lips. In order to love herself, she must know herself. Not as she knows herself, but as men know her.. Best to know yourself as they do is the essence of a mistress. First, she smelled her own floral bouquet. She was sweet and delicate. A few drops across her lips and the slick taste of passion was burned forever into her mind.
Her exercising and her own love making were too much. She closed her eyes and fell asleep. Two hours later, she awoke to the flashes of lightning outside. She took her shower and dried her-self off. Instead of throwing on a towel or getting dressed, she walked around nude, enjoying the brisk, refreshing air pouring into the apartment.
She called the travel agency and made her reservations. She was booked to leave tomorrow night on a 747 out of Kennedy. It was a package deal with all meals and accommodations included at the newest hotel on the island. OK, one down and one to go. She picked up the phone and dialed Phillips private office number. She let it ring because she knew he was often tied up and couldn't come directly to the phone. By the tone of his voice when he picked up the phone, she knew he was in a good humor. With him and his up and down moods, she never knew how she'd find him. Two calls within a few hours would often times find two different people on the other end.
"Well, hello stranger," he said as soon as he heard her voice. "What brings you to these parts on such a beautiful shitty day?"
When he was mentally turned on, there was no one funnier or more fun to be with. But when he was down his own mother would disown him.
She knew exactly what was going to happen when she told him, so she laid it on him right off the bat. just as she predicted his doctor jacket personality took over, and he sounded worse than the rain storm outside.
"But why? I don't understand."
"Told you. Please understand. Some things came up at the church and I have to go away. Really, it'll be good for both of us. Give us a chance to be by ourselves and think. OK?"
The best thing to do was to hang up and get out of the discussion as fast as possible. She said she had to run and promised she'd send him a card and call. His voice sounded like it was dragging on the floor when he said "Good bye." She hung up and smiled to herself. Things were going on schedule. The time was ripe and she'd lay the bomb on his head when she got back. He'll be so homey he won't question a thing, she thought. And besides, the time she's gone will be just the ammunition to prove her story. The phone call proved it to her once and for all. He was hooked and what bothered him on the phone was not the fact she was going, but that he finally realized he was hooked. That's what hurt him the most.
She looked at the clock on the dresser. It was already 11:35 and she hadn't done all the things she had planned. There was shopping to do, the apartment had to be cleaned and three appointments that had to be cancelled and rescheduled. She'd take care of them after lunch, but she had to call Mr. Bishop. It was time for his appointment. He was the weirdest client she had. For the last two years, he had been paying $100 a week just to call him up and talk to him over the phone. When he first called having been referred, she thought he was off . the walls, but since he promised to send her the check first and he did, she called. She didn't know what he looked like, just recognized his voice. The calls lasted as long as he wanted, but normally never more than fifteen minutes.
The first time she called the line was busy. She waited a few minutes and then redialed. Three times it rang, then an old man's voice said "Hello." It was always the same game they played in the beginning.
"Can you talk," she whispered into the mouth-piece.
"Yes, I am alone."
"Are you dressed?"
The old man's voice quivered as he said "no." He sounded like a small boy who had gone out in the garage. with the little girl next door and got caught with his pants down playing `doctor'. The phone remained silent for a few more seconds and then he added, "I've been waiting here for you to call."
"I wish I was there with you now," she said sounding as kittenish as she could. "Why won't you let me come over and be with you and make love to you. You know I need you to make love to me."
"You know I'd like you too, but I can't. I explained it to you the last time, remember?"
Yes, she remembered. Remembered that he gave the very same answer last week. She wondered what his hang-up really was. About the only thing she had been able to track down on the old guy was that he is a widower, loaded, too. One of the few guys who actually made money during the depression. Had one child who was killed during the second world war. His third wife divorced him two years ago and walked away with a fucking bundle, as did number one and two. She felt sorry for the old guy because instead of spending his money he was saving it for tomorrow ... and at his age there frankly aren't that many tomorrows left. And the ones you get you take advantage of them. She had tried to tell him that, but he didn't listen. All he wanted her to do was excite him on the phone. Nothing more. She did and made a fortune using her mouth. Unfortunately, there were more interesting tricks she could do with her lips, but as a wise old homey philosopher said: "different strokes for different folks."
"But I can't help it. I want to come over and touch your body and look at your long hunk of manliness. I want to kiss it and have you shove it between my legs and make me explode inside."
Each time she called it became more difficult for her to say those words. He was old, old enough to be her father. From his voice, she had drawn a mental picture of a wrinkled up old timer who the world had passed by. Once productive, now he rotted away no longer capable of fighting the world on equal terms.
She had seen some sickies, some real butes. Guys that should have been locked up in a funny farm and had the key thrown away. But as sick as they were (and who was she to be talking) they were young and had healthy bodies. When she was in bed with them, she was concerned only if that pig sticker jutting up at her was going to make her cream. She wanted to suck out every last drop of come and swish the white stuff around her mouth and swallow it slowly and enjoy it slither down her throat. She didn't care if some shrink was going to declare them 'non compus mentous' or that their IQ was minus 45. Fuck no. She was only concerned if she turned the trick well enough for them to want to back for more.
She just couldn't see herself in bed with this guy. He didn't have enough bread for her to let him eat her out. She shivered at the thought.
"Please, let me come over and let me sit on your head. I want to feel your tongue licking my clit. I don't want those young men. They're children. I want a real man. Someone who's lived and knows how to make a woman feel like a queen."
He started to talk but couldn't catch his breath. She shook her head and rested it in her right hand. He was jerking off. "I-I-You make me feeeel, so good," was all he could get out before he hung up the receiver.
She sat staring at the phone until the continuous buzz jolted her mind. In all the years she'd had hinges on her heels and went down for bread, this old fucker was the only dude that ever got to her. She'd had bucks want to kill them-selves if she wouldn't marry them. Husbands had divorced their wives, sold their business because of her. Fifteen guys jumped her and raped the shit out of her after one had set up an appointment in his apartment in the village. It had been part of the occupational hazards of her business and she had bounced back each time. I'll now. And she didn't like it. Business, fucking and sucking and eating were one thing. But let your feelings interfere and you're heading down the river feet first.
It hadn't stopped raining. She looked out the window at the thick rain clouds for a few seconds then walked to the mirror. Maybe it was a good idea she was taking a grip. Staying on top of Phillip was keeping her hopping. A few days in the sun will get all her marbles calmed down.
She turned to get dressed and again caught her reflection in the mirror. The old man flashed across her mind. In forty years what would she be like? Old and wrinkled turning tricks would be a small miracle. Would she be alone? NOI She didn't like thinking like that. Every time it rained her mind played tricks and started her thinking too heavy thoughts. And all it did was depress her. Here she had gotten up happy and anxious to head to the Virgin Islands and now ... FUCK IT, she wasn't going to get a heavy head, not if she could help it. She had too much going for her. She grabbed her snatch, gave it an affectionate squeeze, winked at herself and took her shower. It would be a first in her professional career, but she made a mental note that when she got back she was going to cancel the old man.