Chapter 3
It was Kim's hand at her husband's zipper that finally tore it with--Trudy.
Monday and Thursday were normally Trudy's home days. On this Monday the lower-than-guessed estimate for dormer window construction brought Trudy from architect's office to Baker Clinic, excited to give Jack the good news.
He was already getting the good news that re-ally interested him. Kim was hot for playing in-stead of eating on their lunch hour! Trudy shrank back from the entry to his office into a supply closet just as the door at the far end of the hall behind her swung open. Nomi's voice called out as she locked the door, that she was back with sandwiches.
For furious minutes Trudy listened with mounting rage to the sounds of the girls' brazen conversation with Jack. The outrage of it all was heightened by the willingness of her guy to en-courage it.
"I don't believe our boss." Trudy placed Kim's voice behind Jack's desk. Both girls should have their backs to the door. "It's got to be one of the biggest!"
Trudy slipped quickly from the closet and stole to dare a look into his office. The door was brazenly left open. Why not leave it open? Dumb Trudy was supposed to be home, being a good wife, and no patients were ever scheduled during the lunch hour and a half.
She'd often puzzled about Jack's needing that much time, since he ate so fast at home. Now the mystery was cleared. Not just about long lunch hours. About a lot of things. Mostly that Trudy was right when she had decided Friday night that Jack was a bastard. He'd made all that mirth over her attention to a teen-age erection and even teased her to play with it. Then baited her about plans to orgy it up with guys she hired for their home renovating. He was so smug and comfortably confident that his Mrs. Squaresville wife wouldn't even think of misbehavior. Well,. he was just about to learn a few things!
One glance fixed Trudy on a course which five years earlier would have been unthinkable to the bride of fledgling dentist John Baker. Before her eyes he was sprawled back in his reclining air-liner exec chair. The man she once pledged her fidelity to! His bared erection speared between the almond cocoa of Nomi's profile and the ivory cream of Kim's face. There was almost an artistic beauty to Jack's betrayal. His girls Friday vying to be his Monday mistress, their fingers en-twined as they clasped the base of his prick.
"Careful, Nomi, he's loaded! Mrs. Baker must not have taken it all over the weekend."
"Took hardly any," grunted Jack, his tone sending hate vibrations to every corner of Trudy's body. "She's saving up for her playmates on her so-called restoration project."
"Doctor Baker, what a thing to say! Just be-cause the cat wants to stray doesn't mean his kit-ten does, too."
"You'd have a point with any other gal except Trudy," chortled Jack. "But she's got a reason for the way she is. Fantastic body--"
"Whoa!" Kim interrupted. ". . . the way she is?"
"Hell, she's got a narcissistic streak a mile long!"
"Whatever is narciss . . . "
"Narcissistic? Excessive admiration of your bod, baby. With some guys and gals it's got an unhealthy shot of exhibitionism tossed in."
The fury flamed through Trudy. So that was his pitch to win the sexual solace of the girls. Married to an exhibitionist, a narcissist even! She glared at the incredible scene of her husband, still boasting a full-blown erection, daring to put her down. Barely able to restrain the want to run shrieking at the man, she forced herself to listen.
"Then, there's another lousy side of it." Self-pity was dripping in low-keyed sincerity from Jack's voice as he went on. "She's got to protect her super bod and that sure fouls up on the sex scene. Almost nil sometimes."
Rage wasn't even a glimmer of the feeling Trudy knew at that comment.
"You mean she doesn't go ape over this pretty thing?" Nomi flagged the dropping cock in a wig-wagging pendulum, whipping it back and forth from Kim's cheek to her own.
Seething at the gall of the girl to handle her personal property that way, Trudy ducked as Jack's head turned slightly. She leaned breathlessly against the wall and listened to the cooing admiration as Kim and Nomi worked him quickly back to full erection.
"Let's play one-a-cat!" exclaimed Nomi.
"What's one-a-eat?" Jack's groan drew Trudy back to the door again, certain he was embroiled in his own delights. He was. Staring from one girl to the other, he was squirming in his cushioned seat, forcing his cock to-and-fro against two sets of lips puckered inches from the fiercely swollen cock crown.
"One-a-cat you don't learn unless you grew up in the ghetto." Nomi was proud of her rugged childhood. Prouder, Trudy knew, because she had been a reject by black and white both, and she'd gotten herself out of the grimness of her child-hood.
Weird, thought Trudy, feeling a strange change creep into her mood. It was impossible to hate the girls. They were young, impressionable and easy pickings for a bastard like Jack. In a mood she didn't understand in herself, Trudy watched now, almost eagerly, to see how far the two would go.
"One-a-cat's when you use a baseball bat or a stick to choose up sides for a ball game." Nomi stared eagerly past the surging prick into Jack's lusting expression.
"And who wants to play baseball?"
"You will, boss man. You're wearing the bat. Me'n Kim are choosing sides. But we don't go hand-over-hand up the bat . . . we go lip-over-lip."
"Yeah . . . heh! Two-a-cock!"
His humor was lost on the girls as they dove eagerly for the base of his erection.
For torturous minutes they munched and chewed the sides of the thick flesh barrel, satin soft lips moist and warm and pulling, their mouths al-most meeting as they worked slowly up the sides of the turbulent shaft.
Trudy could taste what the pair were tasting. Pulsing, eager phallic flesh. It was Nomi whose lips first crested the fat chestnut of the prick crown and engulfed the glans with gluttonous de-light. Strange tableau in two tones of skin color. The cock barrel was a glistening saliva-soaked white against the burnt almond of Nomi's face. Fat, greedy shaft of Jack's deceit plowing into the sweet tenderness of a female, too innocent, too obligated to her boss to do anything else, thought an envious Trudy.
She nibbled her lower lip nervously, stepping quickly away from the open door when Kim's head started to turn her direction.
"Hey . . . my turn!" Kim's begging relieved Trudy that she hadn't been seen and eager to peek back into the room, she poked her head around the corner. Too soon!
For one devastating second their eyes met across the breadth of the room. Kim's and Trudy's, each with fear brinking on terror when they knew they had been seen, but Trudy's reaction was different. For a fleeting, fractured second' her finger rested on her lips to command secrecy, then she turned from the scene and raced for the exit.
All the horrible ride home she relived the electrifying discovery. Jack was total rat, she had decided over the weekend. Now she knew he was even making' her. the butt of self-pitying pleas to his two assistants. Very well, Jack baby. You gave me the word. Trudy scraped rubber from a tire as she cut the corner turning into the drive-way of their home.
In a tiny hidden corridor in the depths of the old Baker mansion, Melvin Campbell heard the distant squeal of a tire and knew Trudy was re-turning. It was going to be some kind of test of Campbell guts not to have cardiac arrest, once his neighbor was back in the house. He was trespassing! He was actually inside this much-watched house.
He'd found the passage he had long suspected was part of the huge structure. On an earlier social evening with the Bakers he'd caught an al-most imperceptible imbalance in room structure. With his architect eye for design, Mel puzzled for years that the pre-Revolutionary home, more farmhouse than mansion, could very likely have an escape network built within the walls of the home. He'd wanted to ask Jack Baker, but the guy wasn't all that approachable, so Mel had waited.
He brushed a cobweb clutter of a hundred years from his face as he moved back to the viewing peephole he had bored from the Baker's master bedroom back into the tunnel between the walls. Clever, Mel boy, he'd praised himself when he finished.
The innocuous cleft fitted perfectly into the heavy graining of the dark oak paneling on the walls of the bedroom. From his position he could see all and if he pleased, photograph all that happened in half of the master bedroom. The huge bed, the bathroom and Trudy's dressing alcove all were clearly visible.
His heart raced wildly when he heard the returnee's heels spiking angrily up the stairs. Trudy was alone and that was a break. When Mel had slipped into the garage after her departure, he knew it could be very sticky, should the girl come back with someone. But she was alone. He was ready for phase two of his madness. His camera was already in place in the tunnel beyond the wall of the master bedroom. A Nikon with wide angle lens and high precision of detail Should anything take place in this room, and what didn't, Mel would have it in eight by ten color within twenty-four hours.
It was great luck that Ariadne had her bridge brunch during the morning while Trudy was out. Mel had set up his remote connection and now either from his voyeuring point into the Baker bed-room from his attic louver or from the inter wall tunnel inside Bakers, he could get candids of great action.
Blessing the age of electronics that let him be a distant or close up photographer, he crept to position in the comfortable niche he'd cleaned at the camera's tunnel location.
All the comforts of home, he thought, surprised by a sudden sweep of devil-may-care, as he settled back against a cluster of pillows he'd arranged. He'd been a Liberator tail gunner in World War II. This wasn't all that different. He was on his own; away from bitch Ariadne, in hostile territory in someone else's home, and damned if he wasn't still tail gunning!
The truth teased his sixty-year-old virility. He was on much more than a picture-taking kick. Ever since he'd seen Trudy Baker, he had been working with the determination to get a piece of her action. Once a dream. Now a daring possibility.
The voyeuring . . . the masturbation over her sex life with Jack . . . the pretty pictures of her naked body he'd taken when she didn't know it. The hell with all that! She made him feel like a kid again and Ariadne had made him feel ready for the grave.
Now, hearing Trudy's hurried step at the landing to the second floor, he shifted position to glue an eye to the wall crack looking into her bedroom.
This was life! Caught, he'd be jailed or worse. But one Mel Campbell was going to have his try for the tail he'd been wanting. Today . . . tomorrow . . . next month. Here in this hideaway viewing spot, he'd get his piece of her ass, he was determined.
She burst into the room and flung herself across the crimson satin bedspread, and a stunned Mel stared at her tears. He never had known Trudy as other than a blithe and happy spirit. Never had he heard a fight or seen her cry. She was now. It was a shocking first glimpse into the intimate behind-the-scenes life of the Bakers.
"Damn! Damn! Damn you, Jack!" She sobbed into the pillow and Mel strained to hear. "So, play with your nigger and your Irish witch! I'll play, too!"
Her skirt had twisted and dragged high on her thigh as she lay sprawled across the bed, but her hidden audience was captivated more by her words than her exposure.
His daring intrusion onto private property into very personal lives was never better timed, he exulted. There was trouble between them! Her last words before the sobs took command . . . "I'll play, too!" were music to an eavesdropping Campbell. He had just the playmate for her. Himself!
Sudden quieting of the tears. Her hand drifted across her damp cheek to brush aside a lovely look of platinum silver hair, then she pushed to a sitting position.
"So, I'm frigid, am I?" she demanded of no one in particular, rolling to her back and fingering the buttons of her blouse. "So, I'm narcissistic. And exhibitionistic, am I?"
Trudy pulled her clothing hurriedly from her body and Campbell's dilemma over her words was lost in his fascination with her strangely passionate disrobing. She seemed a woman in a trance. Without leaving the bed, she squirmed out of skirt and bra and panty hose, then spread nude across the bright satin. Never had Campbell seen her more devastatingly beautiful.
But more fantastic than the stripping was the sense of intimacy with a girl he had always watched from afar. Not more than twenty feet from where he watched in enchanted surprise he was being treated to the private life of his secret passion.
She was obviously outraged by her husband's behavior with not one, but two other females. Called one a nigger. The two at the office who assisted him. One of them was a black. He smiled delightedly. It was all coming his way.
"Narcisstic, am I, Jack?" Trudy writhed on her back and her fingers slipped into the dark cleft of her vulva and splayed the cunt flesh wide. "Love myself, do I?" she hissed at the empty room. "I'll show you . . . I will . . . I oh!"
Her unseen admirer was beside himself. In helpless reflex he triggered the camera lens again and again as she exposed all, unknowing that she was being watched. The sunshine pinkness of her sex center! The needy clitoris, 'shadowed and mysterious as she probed herself, was a magnet to Campbell.
All at once it was visible. Taut, tiny muscle upraised in want at the threshold of her vagina. Her clit was so like the rest of her fabulous body, thought Mel. Overdeveloped. Deliciously prominent. Like her fabulous breasts, straining excitedly to the rapture transmitted from cunt to boobs. Like her tempestuous mops, puffy with finger-made passion.
"Damn you, Jack I" Trudy masturbated quickly to a finish and the Nikon caught the urgency of her self-play. "Oh . . . oh, golly!"
Savage unwanted ring of her phone and the interruption was as startling to the voyeur as to the girl in the bed. Stopped in the very midst of her orgasm, she let it ring half a dozen times be-fore she answered.
Mel knew by her response to the caller it had to be from the office. He gawked at the visible frustration in the torrid body, twisted, sensuously across the bed. Her face said she wasn't happy to be hearing from whoever it was.
"Jimmy Wilson called?" Trudy frowned, wondering if she was hearing Jack's voice in the background as Kim relayed the information. There was an incredible naturalness about the girl. Talking to the wife who had just caught her playing with her husband, yet perfectly nonchalant. "Why would Jimmy want to come back in?"
"He said something about some more plaque he had to have removed, Mrs. Baker. But didn't you just see him Friday?"
"Yes, I did. Doesn't matter. If he calls back, give him my first open hour." Trudy started to snap off a crack about bothering her with routine appointments, then decided there was a reason.
"He seemed surprised you weren't in the office every day. I told him I'd check and he could call me back later to see if we could give him an hour again this week."
"Okay. Thanks."
There was a brief pause at the other end. "Thank you, Mrs. Baker. I really mean it."
Trudy wondered which of them was more confused by the ways events had turned this day. She knew perfectly well why she hadn't stormed in on those three. It was an absolutely sure way, once and for all, to lose Jack. As angry as she was, Trudy wasn't certain she wanted that extreme.
"Bye, Kim." She dropped the receiver onto its cradle and lay back against the pillow, wondering at the odd tingling she felt. It wasn't bred of revenge or hate or anything but the strangest certainty that she was on the threshold of adventure. Where it would go or whether her marriage to Jack would ever be a marriage again, she didn't know. All she was sure about was the tingling. And something else. . . .
A kind of sixth sense intuition that she was being watched. She didn't know why. Her very familiar bedroom looked very empty. Emptier than usual since the discovery about Jack. But there was this feeling she was under scrutiny. Not a forbidding or threatening sensation at all. Almost the opposite. Like some tender compassionate eyes somewhere staring at her nakedness and feeling love.
"Ooohhhh . . . Trudy! You're getting flaky!" Stretching languorously, she started to squirm for the edge of the bed, resigned to shower and shampoo. She had to get ready for the man coming from the architect's mid-afternoon to go over final renovation plans.
Just as she started for the bathroom, the phone jangled imperiously. "Again?"' Sighing at her unneeded popularity on her day alone, she debated letting it go. Could be the architect, she decided.
"Hello."
"Mrs. Baker? This is Jimmy. Jimmy Wilson."
"Yes, hello, Jimmy. The office just told me you called. Aren't you supposed to check back with them for an appointment hour? I'll be glad to see you first chance."
"Will you, Mrs. Baker? Honest, I mean, you know . . . after the way I was the other--"
Trudy interrupted impatiently. "James Wilson, stop it! You didn't do a single thing that wasn't encouraged."
Behind the' wall, listening intently, a fascinated Mel Campbell watched the intoxicating nude wilt lusciously to her bed again. Whoever Jimmy Wilson was, Trudy was obviously attracted to him. Had to be a patient of hers. A special patient.
"Jimmy, you shouldn't say that!" Her tone made it clear she liked whatever it was and her body was curiously suddenly tensed. Nipples which had been quiet were now eager, pointing cones. Campbell watched her arm drift across her tummy. One, then two fingers crept over the curve of her mons as she clucked in pretended disapproval of what her caller was saying.
"Where are you calling from, Jimmy?"
"From my bedroom." His voice was hoarse with desire as he hurried on. "And don't tell me I shouldn't say it. I have got a big hard-on over you right this sec. I've got it right here in my hand."
"Jimmy . . . " Trudy's voice was low and confidential. "I'm glad you do. Are you thinking of me any special way?"
"You know it! The way you were the other day when my elbow pushed into your crotch and . . . and then you helped me."
"Think of me the way I am now," cooed Trudy. "How? What do you mean?"
"I'm in my bedroom, too. And guess what . . . you caught me without a stitch on. Isn't that terrible?"
"Beautiful!" Jimmy expelled the air from his lungs in an explosive sigh. "Me, too! I heard you weren't at your office when I called and I took a chance. I wanted to make a really hot phone call . . . say rotten things."
"So, what stopped you?" Trudy's eyes danced with delight and her index finger pressed slowly up and down her cunt cleft as she listened.
"Couldn't change my voice good enough. I was going to tell you I was somebody else. You know, like an older guy."
"Like why?"
"So I could tell you what I'd do with you, the way you are right now."
"Tell me anyway."
Behind his camera Mel tried to change film hurriedly, then gave it up in need to get at him-self.. She was doing it again. Gorgeous thighs spread wide to expose that darling cleft to his voyeuring. As she listened to Jimmy she was starting to stroke. It was more than Mel could resist and, gawking eagerly, he began to match her stroking rhythm. Almost like doing it with her.
"Tell me what you'd really do," repeated Trudy.
"I'd shove my cock into your big beautiful breasts. I'd stick it everywhere. I'd fill your pretty hole with my ugly hard prick and let it fly way up your body. I'd--"
"Jimmy!" She stopped him with her urgency. "You're jerking yourself this minute. I can tell by your breathing. Do it fast, and hard and wild, y'hear! I'll help you."
"How?"
"Each time I say 'now' it'll be my finger sticking into that part of me you want to fill. You say it with me and each 'now' I hear means you're pulling on your beautiful penis. Don't you ever dare call it 'ugly prick' again!"
"Now . . . now . . . now . . . "
"Slower . . . squeeze yourself tight, but go slower now. Like I'm going. Now. And now . ohhh, you terrible penis! I can feel you right where he said he'd put it! Now . . . and now and . . . . "
A faraway sound scraped through the wall into her room and reached a hearing but uncomprehending Trudy. How could she know that inside that hidden passageway Mel Campbell had just gotten it off over her?
Staring in intoxicated wonder at the golden goddess writhing on her bed, wantonly and totally involved, as she seduced another male on the phone, Mel couldn't hold back his orgasm. His coming was so violent he kicked the tripod holding his Nikon and barely caught the camera before it hit the floor.
Chest pounding furiously he sank silently to the cluster of pillows clutching his collapsing phallus in frustration. Had the sound of that tripod falling carried into the bedroom? He strained to hear, then sighed relief. Sultry excitement penetrated the wall as Trudy panted in runaway passion.. . .
"Now . . . Now . . . Now!" Then there was total silence in the bedroom and when she spoke again Mel was stunned by the soft calm in her voice. "I'll see you at the office, Jimmy. 'Bye."
For a long while after she hung up on her youthful caller, Trudy lay staring quietly at the ceiling of her bedroom. A turmoil of thoughts spun round her mind. Cockeyed notions. She wondered if maybe she really was getting flaky. To so completely let go with Jimmy and not even care what happened! To be so sure she'd heard a noise in the walls of her room and not be terrified. To feel she was being observed and really hope so. She wondered where it would go from this point. Where didn't reality matter now. Jack had blown it and she would make the best of a bad scene.
"You there!" she said to the wall on impulse. "I know you're there, You're watching, whoever you are. Take a long look at a nice girl about to shock you."
Cringing against his pile of pillows, a dumbfounded Mel Campbell wondered if she had come unglued or if she really did know someone was in her house.
"I know where you are! But who are you?" she fumed, darting from the king-size bed directly to where she'd heard the distant sound of a falling object. Little fists beat furiously on the wall and now Mel was sure. She'd heard. But did she know?
Not daring to budge, Mel felt an odd contentment come over his trembling. Fear was the last thing he wanted in Trudy. And she wasn't afraid. She was moving, casually now, he could tell by the slow brushing of her hand along the paneling. Right past the slit he'd opened. Never noticing.
"Be my friend," Mel heard her murmur at the wall. "Maybe you're a ghost of a long ago Baker female messed up by her hubby, too. Are you?" She was back again, close to the thin crack on the panel.
"You watch me whenever you want, ghostly friend. I'm Trudy Baker and it's 1975. Maybe you're from 1775. Or back even farther when Indians tried to get in this house." Her voice was retreating and Mel moved quickly to look as she disappeared into the bathroom. "You watch, ghost friend. I hope you're a long ago Baker girl who was cheated on like me. I'll get even for both of us."