Chapter 1
Sharon Lawrence stood in front of the full-length bedroom mirror applying the last few drops of perfume to her nude body. In. the bathroom her husband Peter was drying himself after his shower, and now he entered with the towel wrapped around his waist. Sharon saw his, reflection in the mirror as he picked up a pack of cigarettes from the dresser and lit one.
She dabbed a-bit of perfume onto the inside of her thighs as she asked, "What time is it, Peter? We're not late, are we?"
"It's going on eight-thirty," he replied as he moved behind her and let one hand drop to caress her ass. She felt his fingers slide between her legs where the perfume was just drying. "We don't have to be at the Johnson' for another hour, so there's plenty of time," he continued, and he pressed against her, letting her feel his erect cock through the damp towel.
Sharon turned around, letting her hand brush his prick. "My, you're getting it up early tonight, aren't you?" she laughed, and she kissed him lightly. But she moved away quickly and said, "Not enough time for that, though. Besides, we don't want to wear ourselves out before the party."
"Quite right," Peter said. "But how about a cock-tail before we go?"
"Great, I could use one."
Peter walked into the living room and Sharon could hear the tinkle of glass as he poured and mixed the drinks. She opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of pantyhose. She examined it for runs, found a tiny one near, the ankle, and she casually dropped it in the wastebasket before taking out another pair. She was glad that they could afford little luxuries like that. She remembered that when they were first married, ten years before, they had just been able to live on Peter's salary from the broker's office. But he had been promoted quickly and now he made over thirty thousand a year as a junior partner.
They had a house in the suburban town of Wallston, just outside the. city. She remembered being terribly excited when they bought the house, for it was the first time she had ever lived outside an apartment building. But though it was a good neighborhood of large well-kept lawns and sprawling ranch houses, with the Wallston country club five minutes drive from the house, she looked forward to when Peter would be made a senior partner and they could afford to move to Shore Drive. She had the house picked out; she made Peter drive past it every time they were near there, and he had promised it to her if the owners could somehow be persuaded to sell when the time came. She didn't worry, though; Peter would find a way.
She was thankful that they hadn't gotten a divorce several years before. The divorce had been very much a reality then, and they probably would have gone through with it if they hadn't discovered the parties just in time. They had been bored with each other, though Sharon knew all along that she liked Peter and sometimes loved him, and she was sure Peter felt the same about her. But the parties, held almost every weekend, gave them the excitement they needed. The first time she watched Peter fucking another woman filled Sharon with an unbelievable excitement, and their rejuvenated sex life had kept their marriage intact.
Sharon had had several dreary affairs in the early years of her marriage, but since the advent of the weekend swapping parties she reserved all her sex for her husband during the week, knowing that on Saturday night she would have her fill of other men. Other women, too, for she had discovered that a woman could sometimes arouse her even more than a man. The males in the group looked askance at homosexual activities among themselves, but the women all enjoyed bisexuality. Indeed, that was one of the prerequisites for admission to the group.
"Here's the martini," Peter said when he re-turned. "No olives left, I'm afraid. Remember to get some next week, will you?"
Sharon said she wouldn't forget and took the drink. As she sipped it she glanced down at Peter's towel. His erection was no longer visible, but she felt a sudden whimsical urge to get his cock hard again.
He had sat on the bed and Sharon sat next to him. She put her drink on the night table and then slipped one hand up his leg. Peter glanced at her, slightly puzzled, when her hand touched his cock, but then he continued to sip on the martini, pre-tending not to notice.
She felt the cock twitch under her touch and begin to grow. Pulling away the towel, she leaned over the nearly erect prick and touched her lips to its head. Peter's cock was completely hard in an instant and Sharon smiled in satisfaction. Then she opened her mouth, rounded her lips over her teeth, and slipped the cock inside her mouth. She slid it in and out a few times and with her tongue licked off a drop of slippery fluid which had oozed at the tip, but as soon as she felt Peter raise his hips to meet her mouth she stopped and sat up.
"None of that now," she said, smiling. "I'm just getting you warmed up for tonight."
"You don't have to warm me up, baby," Peter replied. "But if you do that for half a minute longer I'll give you a mouthful. Or, if you'd like to. lie back for a minute, I'll give you a cuntful."
Sharon stood up reluctantly, still smiling. She said, "Save it for one of the other broads, Nancy Johnson for instance. You two really put on a show a couple of weeks ago."
"I suppose so, but last week you and Fred did pretty well."
Sharon thought back to when Fred's cock had been inside her and it made her cunt ache in anticipation. With luck, she would get him again tonight. But if not, it was no matter. All the men were good lovers and she never had to worry about getting a dud.
She took another sip of the martini and began to pull on the pantyhose. She looked at herself in the mirror while she drew the elastic waistband over her flat belly, the belly which she had not yet ruined by having a child. She was proud of the way her belly looked, as likewise she was proud of her firm breasts with the always-pointed nipples, her round buttocks, and gently curving thighs. She was glad that at thirty she still looked younger, and she hoped that she would stay that way.
She reached for her sheer blue blouse and put it on. As she tossed her long black hair over the collar she asked, "Do you know if everyone is coming to-night?"
"I should imagine so," her husband replied. "All except the Smiths, of course."
"That's right. I'd forgotten about them." The Smiths had moved to the West Coast a few days before. The previous! week's party had been, in part, a farewell to them:
There were usually five couples in the group: the Smiths, just departed; Sharon and Peter; Fred North, a former major in army intelligence who now sported a bushy mustache and jovial disposition and was liked by everyone, though his wife Carol was equally disliked; Barry and Nancy Johnson, founders of the group, and at whose house the evening's entertainment would be held; and finally Edward and Dale Simmons, a young college professor and his even younger wife, who, though not as experienced as some of the older women, had a stunning body and was much sought after by the men, as well as some of the women.
Peter, just putting on his undershorts, said, "Did I mention that I talked to Ed Simmons the other day? Saw him out cutting the grass. He said they'd come across a couple who might be interested, and hell probably bring it up tonight."
"That'll be fun," Sharon said. "It'll mean another of those dreary straight cocktail parties to look them over, but the group can use some new blood. What about another big party? Anybody mention plans for one of those?"
"Haven't heard," Peter said, "but it's about time for one."
Sharon and Peter's group was one of four in the immediate area, and every few months they would All get together for a gigantic party which usually lasted well into Sunday afternoon. On other occasions two groups might meet, but generally they met separately. Barry and Nancy were the liaisons with the others, and it was said that they knew swingers in almost every city in the country. According to rumor, during a recent two-week vacation the Johnsons had slept with a combined total of over forty partners. Sharon believed it, although she thought that it had been Barry, notoriously promiscuous, who had accounted for the majority of that number.
Peter had finished dressing and went out to sit in the living room. Sharon put on a short skirt, brushed out her hair, and twirled in front of the mirror to make sure her breasts were visible, but hot too visible, through the blouse. Satisfied, she carried her drink out to join Peter and wait a few minutes before driving to the Johnson house.
As she sat beside him on the couch she briefly considered arousing him once more, just for fun, but she was afraid that they might go too far and not have enough strength left for the party. She remembered how embarrassed Nancy had been one evening when her husband had been unable to get a hardon. It had worked out well in the end though, for all the women had worked on Barry at the same time, and he had eventually come around. Sharon knew that all the men had chuckled over Barry's temporary humiliation, though they had envied the cure, and Sharon didn't want Peter to be put in that position. So she contented herself with anticipating the action to come, while she sipped on the martini and almost unconsciously rubbed her ringers over one hard nipple.
Sharon and Peter arrived a few minutes early, but were still the last couple. It was important not to be late, for once everyone was undressed a ringing door-bell was accompanied by first nervousness on every-one's part, soon followed by annoyance and sarcasm directed toward the latecomers. But that happened only rarely; it took a good reason to keep anyone away from a party, especially when Barry and Nancy were the hosts, for Barry always thought up a gimmick to make the activities more interesting.
Tonight was no exception. As soon as Sharon and Peter had greeted everyone, been handed drinks, and sat comfortably on the couch, Barry stood up and walked to the end of the room as if mounting a stage. In his hand. he held a small blackboard with a needle affixed to the center. He put the board and his drink on the mantle piece and turned around, clearing his throat as if about to address a board of directors.
Sharon thought that it was the closest Barry would ever come to actually doing that, for although he was a moderate success in business and had been first in his class at college, everyone knew that Barry Johnson's only real interest was sex. He had often said that if he ever died of a heart attack it wouldn't be after a hard, day at the office, but after an exhausting night with a woman.
Now Barry looked around the room and began: "Well, gang, looks like we're all here tonight, except for the Smiths. Nancy got a postcard from Sheila Smith this afternoon, and it seems that they're al-ready settled down to swinging with three other couples. And Ed, here, just told me that some friends, Steven and Mindy White, may, be interested in joining. So Ed will hold the party next week to look them over, and anyone else who knows a couple can invite them too, just like the normal procedure."
Barry turned to pick up the blackboard from the mantel. "I suppose you're all wondering what this is. You'll notice that I have it marked off in eight sections and that this needle spins." He flicked the needle with a finger and made it twirl. "What we're going to do is write our names in with chalk on the outside, and then spin it to see who's first. Once we're downstairs and naked, then that person will spin to see who the partner will be. I've set up a couple of mattresses at one end of the basement, along with a spotlight, and those two can fuck while every-one looks on. When they're finished the spouse of the last one chosen will spin for a partner, and so on.
"A few rules, though. First, the partner has to be someone other than a husband or wife, and also I think we'll all agree that we won't allow two men."
"Why not? I think that would be fun to watch." Sharon turned quickly to see which woman had said that. It was Carol North, which didn't surprise Sharon in the least. Carol was always suggesting things which no one else liked, and at times she was petty and mean. If Fred had not been so well-liked, Carol would have been blackballed long ago.
But Barry seemed to ignore Carol's comment. He took a sip of his drink and continued. "Secondly, we'll refrain from fucking in the audience, at least until everyone has had a shot on stage. In case some-one should get carried away, we have this." Barry reached behind a potted palm in the corner- and pulled out a small braided whip.
Sharon joined the others in a gasp when the whip came into view, but she also felt a twinge in her cunt. She wondered what it would be like to feel the leather against her flesh.
Barry cracked the whip and said, "This is soft leather, so it doesn't hurt too much, but I imagine that twenty quick strokes across the ass with this should be a deterrent. And the way I figure it, unless a woman is actually being raped she doesn't have to fuck if she doesn't want to, so to make it interesting the woman will be the one to get the punishment. Agreed?"
Sharon thought that it was a typical trick for Barry. She knew that all the men would be doing their damnedest to make the women fuck when they shouldn't, and as she looked around her the grins of the-men told her that they were thinking the same. But she didn't want to speak out against it; already her cunt had twinged once again.
Barry laid the whip down on top of the blackboard, then thought for a moment and handed the blackboard to Nancy, who was sitting closest to him. "We might as well start writing in the names now," he said, and he handed over a piece of chalk from his pocket.
"And now, one more bit of good news. There :s going to be a party next month up on Shore Drive. About a hundred couples should be there, and it'll go on from Friday night through Sunday evening. And of course, we're all invited."
A small burst of applause followed this announcement. Sharon had never been to a party that large before, and she immediately wondered how it would feel to have so many people looking at her nude body.
"That will be rather exciting," Peter said to her, and she agreed. She made a mental note to circle the date on her calendar.
In a few minutes everyone had written their names on the blackboard. Barry took it up again and spun it to see who would be the first to choose a partner. The needle twirled and then stopped, pointing at Nancy, his wife. There were a few cries of "Fix!" but Fred said, "That's the way it should be -- the hostess should go first and put everyone at their ease."
The four couples trouped downstairs to the basement. Sharon was walking next to Fred, and she noticed that he was eying her breasts through the flimsy blouse. She purposely made them jiggle while walking down the stairs to give him a good show.
The basement was already set up for the evening's activities. Two double mattresses were stacked on the floor at one end of the room, and two spotlights formed a circle of white in their center. Dim red lights illuminated the rest of the room, and heavy curtains had been drawn across the basement windows. At one side was a bar and next to it a stereo. Barry put on the music while Nancy mixed fresh drinks.
Sharon found herself standing next to Fred, feeling very self-conscious. The next step was for every-one to take off their clothes, and though they had all done it before many times, there was always the awkwardness of being the first one to begin to undress. But Barry apparently realized the difficulty, and he called out, "Well, what are we waiting for? One, two, three, strip?"
Sharon needed no further urging. She unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it off, then unsnapped the skirt and stepped cut of it. She had just hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her pantyhose when Ed Simmons called out, "Gather around over here. Dale has something to show you."
Sharon looked over to where Dale was standing, her slender curved body clad only in panties. The other persons, in various stages of undress, gathered around Dale, and Sharon joined them.
Dale said, "Ed wasn't being quite accurate. What I have to show is something that I don't have." With that, she quickly bent forward, pulled her panties down to her ankles, and stood straight and stepped out of them. She planted her feet wide apart and it was immediately obvious: she had shaved her pussy.
Dale's body always resembled that of a well-developed teenager, for she was only a year or two past her teens anyway, but now, with her hairless cunt, she looked like a nubile nymphette. Everything was visible: the swelling of her mound, the narrow slit, even a touch of pink inside where the cunt lips were spread by her open thighs.
The spectacle was greeted by some gasps and murmurs of appreciation from the men, as well as from some of the women. Sharon wished that she herself had thought of that, and she decided that if Peter had no objection she would shave her hair also.
Nancy also had the same idea. When everyone was undressed she spun the needle to choose a partner, and it stopped at Peter's name. Nancy walked to where he was standing, took his hand, and led him up to the stage. But she paused, and then said to Barry, "Dear, will you run upstairs and get some scissors and your electric razor? I want to look like a pre-pubescent little girl too."
"Fat chance, with those big boobs of yours," Barry said, but he dutifully ran upstairs.
Peter was grinning, seeming to relish the idea, and when Barry had returned with the equipment Peter set to work on Nancy's cunt, first snipping with the scissors, then running the electric razor over every square inch of her cunt flesh. Nancy was helping him by pointing out spots he had missed and spreading her legs to let him reach every recess. When the job was finished they brushed away all the hair from her body and from the mattress, and then Nancy, standing, made Peter kneel in front of her and lick her pussy.
Sharon, sitting on the floor, watched Nancy and her husband perform, but she was watching with less interest than was usual. Fred was lying on his side next to her, his thigh touching her knee, and Sharon found' herself stealing glances at his penis, semi-erect but relaxed and lying on his belly. Fred was watching the stage intently, and now and then Sharon could see his cock twitch and momentarily stiffen.
Nancy's scream when she came made Sharon concentrate on the stage again, where Peter was now pumping his dick in and out of her cunt, faster and faster. Then Peter groaned as he thrust inside for the last time and kept it in while he came.
There was a smattering of applause as Peter and Nancy got up and walked off the stage.
"All right, Sharon, it's your turn to choose," Peter said as he sank to the floor, pulling Nancy down with him.
Someone handed Sharon the board, and she looked over the names for a moment, trying to decide which one she wanted the needle to point to.
Fred's name was it the top. Sharon looked at him again, still lying On. his side, his slumbering cock resting on his hairy thigh. She remembered last week, when the cock, massive and hard, had pounded inside her pussy, spurting jets of *arm come into her wet cunt.
Nancy's name was next. Sharon thought of how Nancy had screamed when she climaxed with Peter on the stage, and she looked at her now, her head in Peter's lap, one hand toying with his spent prick. Her legs were spread open, and Sharon had a full view of the shaved cunt and the trickle of jism that had dripped out of the slit and down her thigh. Sharon felt a quick urge to lick the trickle of come and then plunge her tongue into that soft, moist cunt.
"Come on, Sharon, get on with it," Fred said. "We're all waiting for the next act." He rested his hand on her thigh and then began to stroke her pussy.
Sharon slapped his hand away. "Stop that, you're getting me all wet. I'm just trying to make a wish for who I want the needle to point to."
"I hope you're wishing for me." Fred squeezed her thigh above the knee and ran his hand up to her cunt again. Sharon let it stay there.
She glanced over the rest of the names quickly. Dale. Dale with the perfect body and now the hair-less cunt. Dale's husband. Edward, slender of body but with a cock big enough to fill even. the largest cunt. Then there was Barry. As a lover he always seemed to come a little too quickly, but he could regain his hardon in five minutes.
Fred jammed a finger into her box and Sharon gasped. He had moved closer and his hard dick was pressed against her leg. Sharon knew that she would have to spin the needle soon before she lost control of herself and let Fred fuck her there and now. She glanced toward the bar where the whip rested, and she shuddered to think of the leather lash stinging her ass while everyone looked on and laughed at her humiliation.
Sharon gasped again as Fred inserted another finger into her cunt, and she clutched her right breast and squeezed the nipple hard to regain her senses.
Carol's name was last, and Sharon hoped that the needle would not point to her. Beside's having a mean disposition, Carol seemed to be' constantly sneering, and her body lacked the soft curves that graced the other women.
Carol spoke: "Sharon baby, you're taking too long. Don't you remember the rules, sweetheart?"
"Maybe if you'd tell your husband to stop distracting me for a moment I could. Now, Fred, cut it out."
Fred's two fingers were working furiously inside her cunt, and his thumb was rubbing her clit.
Carol said, "Hah, how can he do that? He doesn't distract me in the least. If it wasn't for these parties every weekend rd have bought a vibrator long ago."
"None of that, Carol," Fred said harshly. To Sharon he said, "I hardly ever fuck her anymore, especially since for the last few months she's had a boyfriend on the side."
"I don't blame you, Fred," Sharon said. "I wonder what her boyfriend sees in her."
Fred chuckled. have no idea. But at least he keeps her out of my hair. As for you, you had better spin the needle before I rape you."
Sharon put the board on -the floor and spun the needle with her right hand. With her left she grasped Fred's dick and squeezed.
The needle spun, slowed, and stopped. "Who is 'it?" Peter asked.
Fred answered. "It's pointing to you, Peter. No good, right?"
"Right. Spin it again, Sharon."
Sharon stroked Fred's hard cock with one hand and felt it grow. With the other hand she spun the -needle once more. Fred removed one finger from her cunt and with it probed the crack of her ass. Sharon breathed hard, her breasts heaved, , her legs trembled, and, she squeezed Fred's prick while the needle spun. It stopped.
Sharon gasped quickly. "It's Carol," she whispered.
"Good! I was hoping I'd get a chance at you," Carol said. She rose and walked to where Sharon was sitting. Sharon grasped Fred's dick more tightly as Carol approached.
Carol stood above her as she said, "Come on now, baby, let go of Fred and get on stage. It'll be so good to get your tongue inside my wet pussy."
Sharon released Fred's prick and stood up. Immediately, Carol's arm was around her, her tongue was inside Sharon's mouth, and her forefinger was jabbed up into Sharon's cunt. With a cry and a feeling of revulsion Sharon pushed Carol away and flung herself on top of Fred. Her mouth sought his cock, found it, and sucked it in until its head was almost into her throat.. With her hands she squeezed his balls and the base of the shaft.
Fred groaned and pulled her on top of him. Sharon felt his hands clutching her ass, his tongue devouring her wetness. She squirmed on top of him, forcing his tongue deeper into her cunt, and her head bobbed up and down, sucking and licking his hard, blue-veined prick. She heard excited voices around her, but the parameters of her world were the sensations building in her cunt and the exquisite pulsing of the live sex in her mouth.
Sharon felt someone's hard hands trying to tear her from Fred, but she clutched his legs, forcing the cock deeper into her mouth, and she squeezed her legs together around Fred's head.
Suddenly she felt an almost unbearable pressure inside her, growing, hurting, boiling; excruciating pressure and pain that seemed never to stop until at once it exploded and she mashed her cunt against Fred's mouth while sucking harder on his dick. She felt Fred come; the warm fluid burst into her mouth and down her throat, almost choking her, but she gulped it down to meet another jet of come, and then another, as Fred bucked his hips beneath her, forcing his cock into her so that her gagging throat was wide open and the spurts of come shot directly down into her belly.
It was over. Sharon lay on top of Fred, exhausted. His limp prick was still in her mouth but she had neither the energy nor will to remove it.
Sharon opened her eyes. She saw blurred figures standing in a circle above herself and Fred. One per-son moved forward.
It was Carol. The whip was in her hands. "I hope you had fun, sweetie,, because it's my turn now."
Sharon looked at the whip and cringed. Then Fred said, "But we didn't decide who would administer the punishment. Is it supposed to be Carol?"
Here was a hope. If Carol didn't do the whipping then it might not be so bad. Sharon looked for an answer, first to Fred, then to Peter, and finally to Barry.
"In this case, anyway, I'd say that Carol should be the one," Barry said. "After all, she and Sharon were supposed to go on stage when she started in on Fred."
Sharon looked around her for support, but every-one seemed to agree with Barry. Fred had shrugged his shoulders, as if to tell Sharon, "Well, I tried, but it looks like you'll have to go through with it."
Sharon stood up on unsteady legs. Carol was leering at her and waving the whip. Hoping that it would be over soon Sharon walked onto the mat-tresses.
Carol made her kneel down, her thighs spread slightly, facing the group. "There now, aren't you pretty like that?" She let the tip of the whip dangle over Sharon's breasts. "Look at those nice tits. Mm, and look at your pretty ass." Carol now let the tip of the whip caress Sharon's ass cheeks.
Carol continued a running commentary on the parts of Sharon's body, all the time letting the whip just touch her skin. In spite of herself, Sharon felt her cunt coming alive again as she listened to Carol's monologue and felt the leather tickling her flesh.
The glare of the spotlights almost blinded her, but Sharon could still see the faces of the others in the near darkness. Barry was licking his lips as he watched, and even her husband was staring, seeming to be entranced.
Carol was saying, "And look at your sweet little pussy. It's almost as nice as mine. What do you think of my pussy, Sharon?"
Sharon didn't answer.
More harshly, Carol said, "What do you think of my pussy, you slut!" Suddenly the whip cracked across Sharon's ass, making the flesh smart. Sharon, caught off guard, emitted a tiny cry.
"You still haven't answered me, slut. What do you think of my pussy?"
"It's a beautiful pussy," Sharon said softly.
The whip lashed once more. "You can do better than that, you little whore. Tell me, isn't it the most beautiful pussy you've ever seen?"
Sharon did not dare to answer negatively. "Yes, it is," she said.
"And what about my tits?"
"Your tits are the most beautiful I've ever seen."
Sharon found herself telling Carol how beautiful her body was, how delicious her cunt would taste, and how she thought that Carol would be the perfect lover. After ten minutes and the full twenty lashes, there was nothing that Sharon would not say to Carol to be spired one more lash. Though the lashes did not hurt that much, the fact that everyone was watching her humiliation multiplied their sting, and Sharon preferred to whisper the proper reply to Carol than to have everyone see her quiver under a hard blow.
But now, the punishment over, Carol tossed away the whip. Sharon was about to stand up, but Carol said, "No, stay on, your knees. That's it. Now stick out your tongue and close your eyes."
Sharon did as 'she was told. A moment later she felt her tongue touch Carol's pubic hairs. Carol seemed to be moving her pussy in a circular motion while letting Sharon's tongue just touch the hair, but no more. After a full minute of this Sharon wished that Carol would either stop or else let her lick the cunt itself. The latter wish was granted a moment later.
Carol's cunt tasted slightly salty at first, when Sharon's tongue made contact with the clit, but then, as Sharon tilted her head back and licked the length of the pussy, she could taste the powerful and aromatic cunt juice. Carol held Sharon's head in her hands, moving it from side to side or up and down, and Sharon let herself be controlled. Her lips were pressed against the lips of the cunt and slid easily over them, her tongue burrowed into the slit and with each lick became covered with fresh juice, which Sharon swallowed.
Sharon had forgotten that she disliked Carol, had even forgotten the degrading whiplashes. All she wanted was to keep tasting the juice of the cunt that squirmed and writhed above her.
"Stick your tongue all the way inside," Carol said, and Sharon complied. She stuck her tongue out until it hurt and sank it deep inside, feeling the in-side of Carol's cunt, feeling the smoothness, the wetness, and the warmth. She wiggled the tip of her tongue from side to side, and that seemed to drive Carol wild. Sharon could feel the other woman's body trembling, and suddenly, without warning, she heard Carol shriek in passion and delight, while the cunt muscles contracted around her tongue and the juice flowed more freely into her mouth.
Carol shuddered one last time and then stepped back. Sharon had opened her eyes and she saw that Carol was smiling sweetly at her. That was unusual; a sneer was all she had ever received before.
Carol said quietly, "That was very good, Sharon. Where did you ever learn to eat out like that?"
Sharon could detect a hint of admiration in Carol's voice. But rather than encourage Carol, she ignored the question.
Once again in a quiet voice, Carol asked, "Would you like me to eat you? I'm not so bad at it myself, you know."
Sharon shook her head.
The smile was replaced by the sneer. "All right, bitch, see if I care. But just wait -- you'll get what's coming to you."
Carol stalked off the stage and sat on a table at the back of the room, under one of the windows. Sharon remained on stage for a moment, and then she walked off slowly, wondering if perhaps she should have responded to Carol's sudden friendliness. But no; the less she had to do with Carol the better.
But Carol's husband Fred was a different matter. Sharon sat next to him and looked at his prick while he picked up the board and made ready to spin the needle.
With luck, Sharon thought, maybe it'll be me again.