Chapter 8
The world comes in many disguises, however, and the following week brought a roundish charmer of an actress named Connie Bouchet, who, Stefan Raunchek explained through wired jaws, was my new roommate.
With Tully keeping an eye on things the Playhouse had almost begun to become fun again. But Connie put an end to that.
"You do like to sleep with the window open, don't you, hon?" Connie asked the first night.
"Vermont mosquitoes don't pay any heed to screens," I warned. "They enter when they're very young and grow to full manhood in this very room. I don't like being dinner for them."
"Oh, don't be silly. I haven't seen a mosquito anywhere. It's so stuffy in here with that scent....Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean your scent isn't just lovely. But we could use some fresh night air, couldn't we?"
Connie insisted on making me part of her paranoia. I was having enough difficulty with my own.
"O.K.," I relented. "But you'll be sorry."
The first five minutes of the night passed peacefully enough. Then began the Vermont blitzkrieg.
Dive-bombing mosquitoes hovered and zoomed around my head. I began to become crawly, certain that the tiny creatures had bitten me in a dozen places. I resolved to drop the subject, however, and so I pulled the blanket tautly around my head and prayed no part of my anatomy would serve as table for a hungry bug.
I heard a noise and opened one eye.
"Don't they spray around here?" Connie whined.
"It does no good," I mumbled. "But it might help to shut the window. They're laying their eggs right now and they've got a live one right here. You can tell the fresh air freaks around this town by the Calamine lotion."
Connie turned the light on and grabbed the fly swatter. At least four of the buggers were in the room. I shut the window and watched her stalk her prey. The low ceiling was dotted with the remains of former victims and the problem was to see which ones were a permanent part of overhead decor and which ones moved.
Swat! Connie's weapon swished through the air and there were three. A fiendish glee danced in crazy Connie's eyes as she drew a bead on the unsuspecting mosquito. She caught sight of another one sunning itself in the electric glow and advanced with a menacing leer.
"Got you, you little fucker," she chortled as another bit the ceiling dust. "That's for the left tit!"
She scratched her boob that hung like a melon beneath her gauze nightie. "It's gonna be the size of a tomato by morning," she grimaced.
"You see why the night air in Vermont is best left outside," I smiled.
"Got any Calamine?"
"Top drawer."
She opened the bureau and spotted the last of our uninvited guests on the wall. A quick flick of the wrist sent it to mosquito heaven.
"I must have gotten ten bites," she complained. "Put this on my back, will you honey?"
She handed the caked bottle of lotion to me and flopped her tubby body onto the bed.
Moths and mosquitoes and other flying critters crashed into the closed window attracted by the light. If I thought I was food for the mosquitoes, Connie was a blue plate special. A number of reddening welts were visible and I began dabbing the lotion onto her flaccid skin. She had bites on her bare buttocks, too. I applied the pink balm quickly, hoping to get to sleep.
"That feels good," she cooed as the stinging bites were cooled.
Her flesh turned to goose bumps under my fingers and a distinctly sexual feeling stirred deep inside me. "You have gentle hands, Samantha."
"Yeah," I replied noncommittally. "The bastard got me on the front, too," she said twisting onto her back. I stared into her thickly thatched patch of hair and watched her raise her nightie over her soft round belly to reveal her globulous breasts. She really had been bitten on the left tit. I shrugged and dabbed quickly with the Calamine. Her nipple tightened from pinkness to a rich brown nut. "Rub it in," she insisted in a whisper. I pressed the welt and dug my slippery fingers into her flesh. I began to enjoy manipulating her fulsome flesh. She closed her legs around my knee and her sultry moistness emanated from her aroused pussy. My own muff was getting hot too.
"That's just fine, honey. Just keep rubbing just like that," she sighed.
I began moving my hands down her front now, stroking her fascinating round belly with my fingers. She pulled her body up for a moment and my hand was enmeshed in her crop of brown moss. Inexorably my fingers drifted to her pink vulva sucking at me like a magnet.
I did not know what had come over me, but I was suddenly servicing not only her need, but my own. Connie's hands held me about my waist. Her fingers played at the elastic band of my panties.
"Kiss my pussycat and I'll kiss yours," she said hoarsely.
The prospect was decidedly enjoyable and so I stood to my knees to feel my panties skimmed down and Connie's fingers poking at my heated hole. Like the moths outside drawn to the light in the window I drew to within whiffing distance of Connie's cunny. She twisted around so she lay with her head under my muff and I volunteered my tongue to her tacky twat. I felt her return the gesture and my vulva was smeared with her hot wet tongue. I plunged my licking lips to her womanhood and sucked at her thick labia.
She reamed delightedly, making guttural sounds while my pores spewed juices and my entire being was being sexed. She rolled my erected clitoris around her tongue and I was in some celestial place with the good feeling.
I clamped my teeth on her tiny organ and blew and pulled ecstatically. Her heavy thighs rippled with pleasure and her pussy suddenly became very wet. My chin was dripping with her liquids. Her mouth left my shivering cunt.
"Let's shut the lights," she said with a muffled tone.
I could hardly bear to leave her body for the time to turn off the light switch, but I did so.
I began to walk wordlessly to my bed when she spoke.
"It's a wide bed. Keep old Connie some company." A hand reached out and caught my arm. I let myself be led into her bed. Almost immediately her mouth was on mine and drawing my breath from me.
I tried to pull away, but her bulky body was on top of mine and pinning me into the mattress.
"You've beautiful skin," she murmured running her fingers from my knee to my breast. I clenched my teeth with the thrilling sensation. Then her fingers found my swelling pussy. In jabbed her thumb. I jumped but was delighted by her finger planted and undulating gently within. She took my arm with her free hand and pressed it to her ample butt. She formed my fingers and inserted them into her soft-walled fanny.
"I love that feeling," she whispered, nudging my innards with her finger.
I matched her motion with mine in her backside and heard her sigh pleasurably. I continued to corkscrew her anus and felt her passage widen as she rotated on my fingers.
"But what I really love is a long hot tongue," she said turning her bulk around.
I wasn't prepared for that one and suddenly faced with her wide cheeks I had second thoughts. "It drives me nuts and I want to be driven nuts," she said shaking her backside against my mouth.
Connie grapsed my ankles and pressed her rear against me. I did what was expected of me, tentatively at first, then with a certain relish as her muscles tightened around my probing tongue. It became a game, me thrusting through her suctioning crevice, she trying to capture and hold me squeezed by her sphincter muscle. She groaned with unspeakable pleasure and I was stirred to an even more furious tonguing of her hind quarters. I clawed at her pubic moss and my thumb slipped into her hot pussy. I felt I could bury my hand up to the wrist in her wide open tract. She tensed suddenly and came with a rush of juices. Then she lay atop me in an exhausted sixty nine, kissing my triangle of Venus hair. At length, she rolled off to one side.
"Very nice, Samantha. Very nice."
I stole out of her bed and into mme, pooped and ready for sleep.
The next day it was as though nothing had happened. At rehearsal it was business as usual. Later that night, however, Connie produced a pipe and a hunk of hashish.
"Smoke keeps the bugs away," she winked. I had never tried such potent drugs and after one pipeful I was wrecked. In the privacy of our room my mind grew hazy in a delightful high. Connie turned on a phonograph she had brought up with her and we grooved on some acid rock. I don't remember what we spoke about, but I do know we giggled insanely at each other's jokes.
"You're a beautiful person," I recall mumbling.
Connie seemed to become quite serious. She stumbled over to me and dead-panned.
"And you're a beautiful cunt."
I burst out laughing and Connie fed more fuel to the fire by tickling me. I was gasping for breath while she slipped her fingers under my clothes and caught the mainlines to my funny bone. She began to strip my clothes from me and I giggled helplessly, my sides splitting with my comic jag. When I was naked she lay next to me, contemplating my skin with her feather-light fingers. My skin was alive with the sensations the hash made me prone to. I was floating on a cloud and the smiling face that hovered above me could have been an angel's.
"Could you get into food," she asked with a twinkle.
Suddenly I was ravenously hungry at her suggestion. "Chocolate pudding?"
My mouth was watering now. But where could she have some? The commissary was locked downstairs.
"Connie Bouchet is into chocolate pudding," she announced, diving into her carry-all tote bag. She produced two small cans of ready-made pudding that had a flip top seal. "The Perfect Travel Snack," the label proclaimed. Another trip to the bag produced two plastic spoons.
"But we don't have any dishes," she said screwing up her brow.
The cans were designed to serve as the dishes, but Connie had another idea.
"Or do we? A dish fit for two queens," she laughed and before I knew it she was spooning gobs of the brown pudding between my thighs.
"What the hell!" I gulped.
"A garden of delights," she said smacking her lips with a gourmet's relish.
The gooey dessert shimmered precariously on my privates and I held perfectly still to keep the pudding from spilling onto the sheets.
"One for you," she said scooping her plastic spoon and tickling the daylights out of my muff. "And one for me."
I swallowed the tasty treat and savored the sweetness, then settled back to wait while she spooned some more.
"The best part is licking the bowl, isn't it?" Connie giggled. I could hardly wait, for my unconventional dessert dish was stinging with a variety of feelings distinctly sexual.
She scraped a last spoonful of the chocolate pudding and fell to gingerly licking my sex. She sucked at the mixture of my moisture and the dregs of the pudding. If I had been stimulated by last night's encounter, I was a raving lunatic this night under the influence of the high grade hash.
I squealed my appreciation as she tongued and lapped my vagina into a churning cauldron.
"Auntie Connie's got another surprise for little Samantha," she said peeking between my knees. With elfish glee she bounded to her suitcase and pulled a dildo out of a plastic bag. My pussy was wet and sticky with anticipation. She dipped the rubberized plastic prick into the second can of chocolate pudding and then popped it between my legs. The thick tipped rod was a welcome addition to my well-spiced innards.
Connie pushed it deeper into my belly and then took off her own clothes. She climbed on top of me and strapped the false priapus around her haunches, then she began undulating, pressing the thickness deeper and deeper into me. She rotated her body and the extension of herself wound a circle of sheer delight inside.
Memories of Lt. Murphy screwing her WAC private in my father's bed filtered through my mind. How she loved it. And how I was loving this reaming by this sweet-toothed dyke who played an innocent and naive old lady in "Arsenic and Old Lace."
I got used to the only partially flexible phallus quickly. The extension of Connie Bouchet would be rolled around my pussy often in the next four weeks. Under Connie's practiced pelvis, it nearly felt like the real thing. I just wished it could come in me.
Connie had begun to assume all the graces and attitudes of a sort of beau. She could have been my old man-which, in fact, she was. But naive little Samantha thought of it only as a game. I was playing along quite willingly.
Connie would pick up the tab at the roadhouse when the fare at the commissary became too boring. She would pick up little trinkets at an off-the-beaten path trading post outside of town and present them to me. I began to spend more and more time with her beyond the confines of our room. On jaunts to antique stores and auctions, we two seemed inseparable. I laughed at her humor and she seemed to enjoy mine.
Stefan Raunchek, whose jaw was mending nicely, threw some strange looks our way. I detected a hint of pity in his eye and that had really shaken me. It had been a month since Connie Bouchet had come to Dempsey and we were in rehearsal for the final show of the season. During the past four weeks I had found a certain security in our relationship. Connie was a bastion of strength, not very demanding, except for some far out games of sex, and an interesting and welcome change from the hetero rat race that had brought Edward Davison, his mother, and Stefan down on me all in one morning.
Behind this wall of protection I barely noticed the changes in Connie, but they began to appear. Whenever one of the straight guys in the company looked at me a little too long or suggestively, she would sternly order him to tend to his own business. Her sense of humor seemed to be going. Tully and she nearly squared off at the dinner table because of a remark he made in jest. "I want the quick change booth set on stage right, next to the stage manager's desk," he said. "This show is so boring I'd rather look at beautiful Samantha getting into costume."
"If you could handle the goddamn light cues you might have some time to feed your dirty mind," Connie said, slamming her napkin down.
"Oh, come on," I pleaded. But Connie stormed out in a huff.
Tully apologized and I told him not to be so silly. "I don't know what's gotten into her," I shrugged.
Later that night, in the midst of one of our dildo exercises, Connie stopped suddenly.
"You have the hots for Tully, don't you?"
My mouth hung open with surprise and more than a little bit of hurt. She had stopped just as my first orgasm had begun to build.
"Don't deny it, you little bitch," she said her mouth screwed into an ugly sneer.
Something had been wrong all evening, but I had never expected this.
"Connie, you're crazy. Tully's a sweet kid, that's all. He doesn't mean a thing to me."
She pulled up on the dildo abruptly, wrenching it from my pussy. "Ouch!"
"I don't like being made a fool of," she said.
"And I don't like being put down with no reason," I countered angrily.
"You've been screwing around with Tully and Stefan and god knows who else behind my back!"
"Your paranoia is showing," I yelled pushing her off of me. But she was fast, very fast, and suddenly I was twisted onto my back and she grappled my arms behind me.
"What's come over you? What do you want, for Christ's sake?" I bawled.
"Your word that you'll never look at a man," she said turning my wrist.
"You're out of your mind!" I retorted. "You don't own me. I'm my own person."
"You'll be sorry," she sing-songed and I heard the strap to the dildo come off her waist. I half expected to feel the stripe of pain to come stinging off the strap across my back. Instead my wrists were bound behind me.
"Connie, stop this," I cried, becoming numb with fear. Connie had turned mad as a hatter and I didn't know what to expect next.
"You want to screw around with some hairy man, I can't stop you. But I sure can make it painful," she spat.
I twisted my head to see what she had in her jealous mind. She opened her bureau drawer and withdrew a small bottle. Visions of acid flashed in my mind. What had she planned?
She held the bottle before me. I focused on the familiar forms of three giant mosquitoes.
"Don't do that," I stammered.
"I've had it with you, Samantha," she said uncapping the jar. I tried to twist away, but she held me firmly, pinning my head with her free hand and pressing the mouth of the jar between my thighs.
"Go on, you little devils, take a nip of Samantha's sweet little pussy. She likes being stung."
I was crawling with the ugly sensations. I couldn't be sure if I was imagining the bites or if they were real. She dug the jar into my vulva for what seemed an eternity. I distinctly felt the nip of a thirsting pincer.
"Four bites, I think," she announced capping the jar. She held the bottle in front of my face and I saw three blood-bloated mosquitoes nearly immobile with the weight of my unexpected largesse. Seconds later my pussy flesh began to swell and itch. I gritted my teeth, unable to bear the puffing bites.
"I could get infected," I moaned.
Connie smiled benignly. How grotesquely she had turned on me. Her cruelty seemed limitless. She went to the bureau and removed the bottle of calamine. I thought she might pour some of it onto my affected parts. Instead, she poured the entire bottle into the waste basket with a flourish. How she enjoyed my suffering.
"I'm through with you," she said unstrapping my hands. My pubis was howling to be scratched, I didn't give in to the maddening urge to do it.
She stalked to the window and sat in a chair, staring out at the moths and other flying creatures of the night.
I couldn't hate her. She was too pitiful. She had suddenly aged a dozen years and I stared at a fifty-year-old over the hill dyke. My pussy was crawling, but she had the pain.
I was going to leave this room. As the season drew to a close more and more rooms were available and it was merely a matter of choosing which one. I threw on a robe and dumped what was visible of mine into a suitcase.
"Ungrateful bitch," she snapped. "Go on and scratch yourself!"
There was nothing I wanted to do more and nothing less than I intended to do as soon as I was out of her sight.
"I'm sorry "for you," I said as I opened the door.
Connie's lip was trembling and I knew she would burst into tears at any moment. I slammed the door and strode to the end of the hall. The room at the top of the stairs was vacant, I knew. I was barely inside when I squeezed my mosquito-bitten vagina. If there was any sympathy left for Connie Bouchet it all vanished as I sat on the bare mattress and held my genitalia while it throbbed and itched.
Inevitably there was a knock on the door. I didn't think she had the gall to come calling.
"Who's that?" I called.
"Tully-Is that you, Samantha?"
"It's me. Go away, Tully, please."
"Are you O.K.?"
"I'm fine. Goodnight," I said hopefully.
All the while I rubbed my pulsing bites feverishly. "Wait. Do you have any calamine?"
"Sure," trusty Tully answered. Seconds later he knocked again and I opened the door for him. I grabbed for the bottle as though it were a junkie's fix.
"Thanks, Tully."
"You sure you're O.K.?"
"Yeah."
"Then what are you squirming around for?" I looked down to realize my legs were knotted like braids.
"Mosquito bites, that's all," I said clipping my words. Why didn't he mind his own business?
"Can I give you a hand with that stuff?"
I was doubling over with the itching, now and alarm spread over his face. "Alright, alright, put it on me, then!"
I spread-eagled on the bed and watched Tully's eyes bug out when he saw the mushrooming welts on my pussy. I spilled the bottle of lotion onto my affected area and rubbed the coolness into me.
"Holy cow," he drawled.
I continued to smooth on the pink goo while Tully turned a shade pinker, too.
"I ... uh ... I'm sorry, Sammy," he stammered.
"For what? You got me the lotion. I love you."
He jumped at my last remark and I realized by the bump in his dungarees, mine weren't the only genitals aroused around these parts. I continued to rub the insane welts. It was soothing the mosquito ache, but encouraging the more basic agony that had been interrupted when Connie pulled out so rudely.
Tully shuffled nervously.
"You still want to help?" I asked. He was staring at my pink nippled tit that flopped uncaring on the lapel of my open robe.
"S-sure," he murmured.
"Then become as expert a dermatologist as you are a stage manager," I said.
He almost tripped over himself with eagerness. He threw back his shock of hair and poured a glob of lotion into his palm. Next he squashed his dripping hand against my punished pussy and he rubbed gently until I was exploding with passion.
"I guess I shouldn't even ask how this happened," he said, rotating his index finger against my clit.
"You wouldn't believe it, so why tell. Just keep that up, Tully, sweetheart."
I took his dry hand and pressed it to my breast. He seemed to have been waiting all summer for that to happen and his face beamed like a lighthouse, "If that's what I think it is," I nodded at his bulging pants, "you'd better get ready to use it."
My flesh was crawling with need for his rod and I delighted to see the hairy piece fully erected sticking out of his unzipped jeans.
I was open and hot and yearning, lubricated by both the lotion and my own juices. I was thrilled to hear the head of his piece gush through my itching labia. Tully held my shoulders and worked his hefty hard-on in and out with a firmness and ease that made me wonder why I had given it all up for a month with Connie's artifice.
He kissed my lips and I shut my eyes to feel the sensations of a real live male dong balling through me and into my belly. He thumped slowly, taking much pleasure and giving me a lioness' share.
The buttons to the unfamiliar mattress bit into my back, but nothing mattered any longer except Tully's potent firmness and my flaming pussy. As lovers went he wasn't topnotch but he filled the bill very nicely, rubbing my irritated bites with a relentless motion and building me to a genuine climax. I shut my eyes and savored his plunging pile driver as it hit my clit once and then again and the molten sparks flew between my legs. Then he swelled and I felt the unmistakable splash of his man-come through my swirling privates. How fantastic it was to again feel a man come in me.
I kissed his lips wetly and the tears simply poured from my eyes.
"I didn't hurt, did I?" Tully asked with concern.
"No, you dummy," I smiled, holding his thickness firmly within me. "Let's just lay here for a while."
He rested his head on my shoulder and we lay in silence. Somehow the itching had stopped. I wondered if semen was the new miracle drug for mosquito bites.
"I have an early call tomorrow morning," he said some minutes later. I kissed Tully goodnight and fell asleep on the bare bed.
The next day was an agony of itching until I finally went to the town clinic and got some super salve. Tully dropped by the next night to help apply it and we made up for all the lost time. During the day Connie barely acknowledged my presence and that was fine with me. Two days later the season was over. I rode back to New York with Tully in his car, but there was no chance for us to see each other again because he had a contract to stage manage a road company the next day. But his was the most beneficial contact I had made all summer, for he had a fantastic apartment on Fifty-Seventh Street and needed someone to sublet it. Miss Samantha Bonno had a fine new address and I resolved to get a role in something to h !p pay the freight.
One bleak week later I had pounded the pavements and knocked on agents' doors until my feet and knuckles were sore. Then another off-off Broadway bit came my way and I was again showcased at no cost to the producers. My savings from the summer would not last forever and so I began taking temporary secretarial jobs to tide me over.
The months passed with hardly a bite from my publicity photos. Talk of recession, tight money, and the ever increasing Hops on and off Broadway made New York a wasteland. The rent in the apartment was stiff enough and soon my savings was gone. I touched my father once or twice for some help which he gave gladly, but halfway through the winter I thought about giving the whole thing up. It was a new year but my prospects never looked dimmer. Thumbing through the newspapers I read of the Census Bureau reviving its bureaucratic self for another of those ten-year nose counts. I phoned for an appointment and was given a test date at the Federal Building downtown.