Chapter 8
That day she was frostily polite to Liz. Toward noon in the corridor, Liz caught her arm and said, "Honey, I want to explain."
Jane had meant to be cool and say that she understood, no ties bound them, each was free to play around.
But she lost her temper and said, "I know why you don't wear panties, so anybody can get at your cunt!"
She hurried away, instantly furious with herself for showing her jealousy.
But by evening she had recovered her poise. Jonas said that he would drive them to the party. Jane finished work and went to the locker room and undressed. Liz was already there, glancing sidewise at her, cheeks red with shame. And remorse? Naked, Jane moved about arranging things in her locker, letting Liz see the wobble of her tits, the teasing sway of her ass.
In the shower she scrubbed herself and then dawdled, enjoying the tepid spray sluicing her body. Liz came in and blurted, "Jane, I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd take it so hard."
"Hard? I haven't had anything hard in a long time. Maybe tonight I will. Jonas, maybe. Is his good and hard, Liz?"
Liz bit her lip and turned away to another shower.
Jane dried off and, facing her locker summoned up the nerve to put on the bra that she had chosen, a stretch thing without hooks, the kind of frail garment that young girls with small tits wore. She would wobble all over the place. But wasn't she out to seduce a man? She put it on. She shook her torso, and saw her breasts jump about. She giggled.
She slipped into the dress without panties, because the material clung and would show seams. She studied it in the mirror to see if her pussy hair showed through. Not much. A shadow, maybe.
She stepped into blue sandals, put on a small necklace of blue beads that matched her eyes, brushed out her hair and called it good enough.
She was ready to prowl.
In Jonas' car, she sat at the door, Liz between. Jonas took a pint bottle of whiskey from the glove compartment, saying, "The people at the party will be pretty awful. Let's have a drink so we can endure them."
They passed the bottle. It was raw stuff, burning Jane's throat, but she gulped at it. She needed to strengthen her resolve, for Liz, sitting between her two lovers, looked too ravishingly beautiful, her complexion glowing, her lips as delicate as rose petals, her eyes luminous. Jane wanted to clutch her hand and beg forgiveness, but the whiskey helped.
She choked on it, and sat stiffly looking out the window as Jonas wheeled out to the lakes, the new-rich part of the city where he lived and the clinic was located. The houses were big, on handsomely landscaped, large lots. Out here was where Jonas had said she could double her earnings. She would look into that, too.
The clinic was a low, L-shaped building. The cars parked before it were big, and Jane saw people in evening dress going from them to the entrance. Well, she wouldn't be over-dressed anyhow. The men were mostly in black tie. Jonas wore a sports jacket and slacks.
The three of them entered the lobby, where uniformed caterers took their coats. Jane saw women flashing diamonds, and minks being carried away. Then Jonas' wife appeared.
Jane caught her breath. The woman was exquisite, gold and rose, pencil-slim in a green satin dress, long legs, green opera pumps Jane knew had cost a hundred dollars. Emeralds at her throat and in her eyes.
"Jonas," Madge cried, "you've brought girls! How this party needs fresh young things. But, darling, that awful sports jacket and slacks, really."
He said, "I've been cutting out people's guts all afternoon. I don't have Wilson's spare time to spend at the tailor's." His voice was gruff. Madge kissed his cheek, then turned, extending a hand to each of the girls.
She gushed, "How pretty you are. I love you both."
"Liz and Jane," Jonas said, introducing them. He herded the three of them to another room where champagne corks were popping and Dr. Wilson, in a maroon formal jacket and blue velvet pants, came bursting with good humor. Jane knew his face. He was sometimes in the hospital fussing over rich women patients.
A waiter brought champagne, and after toasts to the success of the new clinic, Jane studied the group, saw flashes of understanding between Madge and Wilson; apparently it was true that they had a romance going. And she caught the sharpness of Madge's gaze when she looked at Liz, and at herself. Madge had a wife's wary eye for whatever women worked with her husband. There was something else in her gaze that Jane couldn't at first fathom. She looked them over in an unfeminine way, not studying the details of their clothes, jewelry, and makeup, but their bodies.
Could Madge Blake have a lesbian side?
Jane wondered about that.
She found herself talking to a Dr. Smith from City General, an eager young man who was going in with Wilson on the clinic.
He said, "I hope your Blake joins us. He's getting quite a name as a surgeon. He'd be a fool not to. You should see my office. The rug is ankle deep."
She told him, "Jonas is pretty busy right now."
"Well, who isn't at City? Work you to death. Oh, he'll see the light."
Others joined them. The talk was the same. Get into big money with Wilson. She reflected that when she had been with doctors before, they spent half their time talking about medical problems. Here there was only money. Somehow they didn't speak her language.
She said little but was aware that she drew attention, men leering at her breasts, and her crotch. She guessed that her pubic hair showed through. But nobody made passes. They all seemed to be with their wives. She saw many a curled feminine lip and hateful glance. Flattering.
A soft hand brushed her arm. Madge Blake. Smiling, she said, "Jane, I'd love to talk with you. Come, I'll show you the new offices." Jane followed her out of the main room to an office with three big windows, a rosewood desk, rugs her feet sank into. Off it, through a door marked NURSE, was a place bigger than Jonas had at City.
"It's very plushy," she said.
Madge smiled. "Do you like Jonas?"
Jane gazed levelly at her. "Yes. I've only been at City a few days. But I like him."
"I've been wondering. You're so pretty. I know he's involved with one of the nurses, the way he's been acting."
"It's not me."
"The girl who came with you? Liz?"
"I have no idea." No matter that she was furious at Liz. This woman was an outsider.
Madge changed the subject to clothes, to Jane's dress, which she thought adorable. Her fingers kept touching Jane's arm, and her gaze washed up and down her body. Again she wondered about the lesbian angle, and if Madge was aware that she gave the impression.
Then Jonas appeared in the doorway with a tray of drinks. In his rumpled jacket, his tie askew, he was out of place in these elegant surroundings.
Madge said, "The way you look!" She took drinks from the tray and gave Jane one. She scanned her husband's clothes, scowling. Then, abruptly, she turned and strode out and back to the party.
Jonas leaned against the doorjamb, sipping a drink, still holding the tray of glasses.
He asked, "Did she try to pump you for information? "
Jane nodded. "She asked if I'm your girlfriend."
He was gazing at her crotch. A light was shining on her. She guessed he could see the darkness of her pussy hair. She didn't mind. Liz's betrayal had made her indifferent.
He drained his glass, set it on the tray, and took a fresh one. He said, "All this is very nice, isn't it?"
"It's different. All these rugs, it would be too quiet, maybe. Something feels wrong."
"Ah, you're being loyal to me. You know how I feel about it. Don't con me, Jane."
She lifted her chin. "I started training six years ago, in a hospital. I've been in one ever since. It's what I'm used to."
He gulped down the drink. "Let's get drunk together, you and me. And go out and insult these puffed-up ass-holes. Crooks. Bandits. What say?"
"Let me finish my drink and think about it."
"Don't think, drink."
She drank. The whiskey glowed in her veins. She set the glass on his tray and took another drink. And Liz, seeing them together, what better man could she grab than the one Liz was hot for? She took Jonas' arm and they went out to the buffet where they stood looking down at smoked pink salmon and deviled eggs studded with globules of red caviar, sliced turkey breast and shrimp on toothpicks. She tried this and that. They stood companionably together plucking at the hors d'oeuvres and drinking whiskey, and soon a bond formed between them, a oneness barring out the rest of the party. She knew that Madge would stop them and probably would intervene, and that would be the test of Jonas. Well, she would see. She nibbled on a shrimp, and glanced up at Jonas and smiled.
His dark gaze was fixed on her, watching. There was a twinkle in it. He asked, "Don't you wear panties, Jane?"
"Not tonight."
"I like that darkness showing through your dress. It's kind of honest. Why not tonight?"
She frowned. Because of Liz. Oh, the hell with Liz. She finished her drink and took another from Jonas' tray. The crowd about them was growing. All the big money in town was here, she thought. She said, "I dressed like this because I felt like it. Don't you do things on impulse?"
"Yes. I feel like getting the hell out of here. You want?"
She nodded. "Let me get a handful of shrimp."
"Take the bowl of them."
She picked up the bowl of shrimp and her drink and he steered her out through the crowd.
She had imagined Madge watching, and Liz, but Liz was in a corner with a guy, giggling, and Madge not in sight. In the lobby Jonas got their coats and suddenly they were out of the party, in the parking lot, in his car. She ate shrimp and drank whiskey.
She slouched on the seat, her head on the backrest. She said, "There'll be hell to pay, Jonas. Your wife."
He started the car. "I never should have gone to the party after operating all afternoon. Damn-it, they party to celebrate their success in robbing people, the whole lot of them. It drives me over the edge. Screw 'em all. How do you feel?"
"Good. Great."
"I feel lousy."
"Because you're leaving a party with a girl, and your wife will find out about it?"
"No. You're the one thing I don't feel lousy about." He drove off on the avenue, stamped on the accelerator. Jane nibbled shrimp, smiling to herself. Because she had snagged Jonas away from both Liz and his wife? Maybe. Maybe she had more bitch in her than she had supposed.
"We'll get a steak," he said, wheeling the car into the parking lot of the Lakeview Restaurant. She could see the lake glimmering in the moonlight. She climbed out with her shrimp bowl and drink and they went inside to a booth with a checkered tablecloth, the kind supposed to be in cheap restaurants, but this wasn't one. Jonas ordered more drinks, and steaks, and they sat eating shrimp. Under the tablecloth his hand brushed her skirt back and settled on her bare thigh.
She said, "The shrimp are delicious. They're so expensive lately. I feel like I'm making a good thing out of Dr. Wilson's hospitality."
"Business expense, tax deductible. Besides which he'll probably inflate the cost, fake the invoices, and come out with a profit. I hear all that from Madge, how to become rich despite having sworn to the oath of Hypocrites. Your thigh feels very nice, Jane."
"I'm glad you like it." She almost giggled. She wasn't drunk but a little tight. And the shrimp were delicious, and his hand warm, firm but relaxed on her thigh, and fingers down between.
He said, "You don't mind?"
"It seems a nice, friendly thing to do. Besides, I hate your wife."
She gasped, wishing that she could recall those words.
The steaks arrived, small, oval fillets, thick and juicy. Jonas sent back the baked potatoes. Jane dumped the shrimp into their salads and Jonas' hand left her thigh as they ate steak and shrimp salad and drank more booze.
She said, "I don't really hate your wife, Jonas. It's just that I like you."
That seemed to take care of it. She felt good all through dinner, and when they went out to the car she sat over next to him with a hand on his shoulder, and when the car was out on the avenue his hand pushed back her skirt and rested on her thigh. She didn't ask where they were going. Into side streets. Eventually he pulled into a driveway beside a new ranch house and they got out.
"Your house?" she asked.
He nodded. He unlocked a door and they entered a kitchen with lunch dishes in the sink from breakfast, egg stains.
He said, "The cleaning woman is off today." He made drinks in the kitchen and took her into a spacious living room, the furniture expensively white-cushioned. They sat on a couch. Automatically she snuggled into the crook of his arm.
Jane began thinking, Did Liz draw me out of my shell? Am I here because I want to spite her, or because she woke me up? She glanced side-wise at Jonas. He knuckled her chin, turning her face up, and kissed her lightly. The firmness of his lips was startling after becoming used to Liz's, and when her cheek touched his she felt a harshness. He hadn't shaved since morning. But something in her thrilled to it, and she squirmed closer, and when his hand cupped on her breast she sighed deeply and pushed into his palm. She reached her drink glass behind her to a table and curled her arm around his neck, sagging now, face upturned, waiting for his kiss. She got it, hard, making her mouth yawn, his meaty tongue thrusting into it to her throat.
His hand stripped off her breast, pulling at the tip, and Jane sighed happily. The pressure returned, kneading her big tit. She shivered, arched her back to again press at his palm, and squash her puffy mammary crown into it.
He had gotten rid of his glass and now both hands were on her breasts, caressing them in a rotary movement while she clung to his neck and slowly, voluptuously sucked his tongue.
Then his right hand went down to her pussy. Her legs were together. At his nudge she spread them, did it because like he had said before about not wearing panties, it was honest. He flipped back her skirt and his fingers forked on her pussy lips.
Oh, she knew that it would end up like all love affairs, by her being hurt. He had more problems than he could handle and she was the one who would get it in the neck.
But just the same she fingered from his neck down his chest, down his belly, and found the long hard ridge in his pants, a bony cock much longer than she had imagined. Her hand trembled as she tested its rigidity. She explored the big head of it, then flattened her palm on it and rubbed.
She felt suddenly delighted that she was going to be fucked by this wonderfully hard tool.
Panting, she broke from his kiss and looked down at the spread of her legs, at his fingers deep in her pussy hair, rolling and tugging at her vulval lips. She was all gooey inside. Some moisture had already escaped to bedew her curly lip fluff. She raised her leg, cocked it up, and heeled the cushion, let the leg wing out to expose her cunt to his caresses.
His cock was standing up tall now, stretching his pants. It looked cramped. She seized the zipper tab and tore it down, and into view leaped a long and rigid penis capped by a magnificent plushy head, spread out wide, the split in it dribbling juice as she watched. She seized the burning shaft and fisted it tightly.
He said, "I'm going to screw you on my wife's bed."
"All right," she whispered. His finger had dipped into her vaginal mouth, which was open and slobbering. She nuzzled his throat and said, low-voiced, "I don't care where, just fill me up with that bony thing of yours. I need it."
She needed it to forget Liz, she thought. And to spite his wife. But she glanced up at him then, meeting his liquid dark gaze, and knew that she was lying to herself. She wasn't here kneading his cock and letting him finger her hole for any reason outside of him and herself. She was here because that first afternoon in the operating room he had, masked and capped, hidden except for his eyes, looked at her with unashamed hunger. He had been like a walking, breathing, staring penis, six feet tall, a man who was a stiff cock; and she, under her paper smock, had been transformed from a woman into a great hairy cunt gaping at him, opening and closing on each heartbeat, quietly belching out gushes of vaginal drool.
She thought, I've had too much to drink, that's why I conceive such fantasies. But the truth remained that Jane Hearne, R.N., had been no more than a pulsing cunt. And it had shown in her eyes, and he, the tall cocksman, had seen it. It had happened to her before with men, and that was why she had devoted herself to her work, her gymnastics, her pursuit of her B.S., and masturbation. Indeed, Liz had in no way caused this, but had been able to seduce Jane because Jonas had started her too-long puckered-up cunt drooling and gaping, and sticking the vibrator up her crotch hole had no longer been enough.
She would get hurt. Jonas had a wife and would be loyal to her, in the long run. But Jane raised up now and kissed his cheek. Maybe she needed to be wounded. Dammit, why wasn't it easier for her, the way Liz was, just a romp in bed? But her joy in kissing his cheek, in nuzzling to his ear and lipping it, in tonguing into it; this was hers and wonderful.
He asked, "Ready for bed?"
"No hurry," she whispered. "Now that I know you're going to fuck me, I feel quite contented." She blew gently into his ear, licked it again, her entire self concentrated in the tip of her tongue, winding about, tracing the configurations of Jonas' ear. Even though one hand was about his neck, fingers raking up into his hair, and her other fisted on his naked prick; all sensation was in her tongue, despite his finger up her vagina and his slow massaging of her breast. She asked, "That first time in the operating room, I felt you look right through me. I resented it. But here I am. I hope other women aren't like me. I resist, and that hurts, and then I collapse like a house of cards, which doesn't hurt at all until afterward."
She smiled against his ear, guessing that she had said too much, leaving herself open to being used like a dishrag. But as long as she could nuzzle his ear and had a handful of bony cock, nothing really worried her.