Chapter 7

Madge sat in the house waiting for Arny.

Beth had come back the night before and had taken John to the side, whispering and giggling. Then the three had lain in bed, with John caressing them both, talking about the shapes of the two women's bodies. In the morning, after making sure Arny had left, they allowed her to leave, reminding her that if she didn't come to dinner that night the pictures would be sent.

She had agreed.

Now, pulling at her fingers and biting the lipstick off her lips, she nervously awaited the arrival of her husband.

She heard the car pull up, the door slam, and the screen door squeak open. It was part of the ritual she went through every night. In a moment Arny would appear in the doorway, with his shoulders sloping, his valise dangling from his tired fingertips.

Madge had a sudden desire to rush to him, to clutch him and tell him the whole sordid story. But as the door opened, she just stood transfixed a few feet away, wringing her hands.

"Hello," she said forcing a smile.

"Hello."

They stood like two strangers looking at one another, trying to place where they had seen each other before.

"I'm sorry about last night," Madge finally said. "I was foolish."

The tension slackened, Arny closed the door and set his valise down instead of sliding it down the hall. He shrugged out of his coat, feeling embarrassed and ashamed, wishing he had the guts to confess what he had done the previous night and get it off his chest. It had eaten at him all day.

"I wasn't very fair," Arny said, walking to the closet and hanging his coat up. "I said the wrong things at the wrong time. I'm sorry."

"Oh, Arny," Madge ran to him, tears welling in her eyes. She sobbed and pressed her wet face against his chest as she felt his reassuring arms wrap around her and pull her to him. "Arny?" She looked up at him, her eyes puffy and red.

"Yes?"

"I love you." Her lips trembled as she spoke. She wanted to cry out the details of last night, to spill out the anger and frustration trapped in her living nightmare.

"Oh, Madge. I love you, too."

Arny found himself nibbling at her ear, rubbing her back and pressing his groin against her stomach. He needed her body against his to reinstate his feelings -he needed to apologize sexually for what he had done without having to say it in the clumsy realm of words. He had to communicate to her what he had despoiled last night when he debased her with Beth. His mind roiled as his hands caressed more of Madge's body. She was feeling a similar sensation. Arny rarely had time for passion and she was thankful that now was one of those times. She needed him to hold her, to be rough with her, to spill his semen in her womb. She needed to hear him moan and take part in giving him relief as well as emotion.

"Darling, darling," Arny said as he kissed her cheek, her nose, her lips. His tongue snaked out and flicked at her lower Up. She responded, fencing with him as he leaned down and scooped her up into his arms. As they kissed long and roughly, Arny maneuvered Madge up the stairs toward the bedroom.

Madge was breathing raggedly by the time Arny laid her gently on the bed and wedged his way between her legs. She licked her lips and pulled his head down onto her mouth as she wriggled under him, driving her pelvis against his groin.

"Oh, Madge. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Arny said the words slowly as he reached down and grasped Madge's V, squeezing the lips gently between his thumb and forefinger until he could feel the nubbin rolling under the weight of his fingers.

"Oh, Arny, Arny. Make love to me - how."

Guilt spurring him, Arny yanked at the top of her dress, popping two of the buttons.

"Rip it off me, Arny. Rip it." Madge was moaning, her head lolling from side to side. Her sensitive genitals were burning with desire and she thought she couldn't stand the hunger another moment. The things she had learned the previous night all seemed to come back and haunt her. She could feel her buttocks twitching as they received John's long, tilted phallus; she could sense his tongue laving her clitoris, nipping at it.

Arny shoved his hand down the front of her dress and yanked. Madge could feel the seams giving and pinching into her arms as the dress ripped down the front. Arny was sitting on her stomach, his eyes wide, his hands furiously shredding away the material until the front of her was bare except for panties and bra.

"Rip them off, Arny. Hurry."

He snorted, and yanked at the tough bra material. It didn't give. He yanked again and Madge moaned as the elastic cut under her arms.

Hurriedly, she arched her back and unsnapped the bra. Arny grabbed the loose material and yanked, snapping the straps and pulling it off her. He slid down to her knees and pulled at the panties until they ripped apart, leaving only a thin elastic band pinching her waist.

"Now, Arny. Now."

Unconsciously, Madge let her hands slide up her waist and begin massaging her breasts while Arny quickly fumbled to loosen his trousers. She moaned and thrashed her head from side to side.

Arny looked down at her as if she were a different person from the wife he had cheated on last night. Passion was written over her from head to foot, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were glazed. Maybe it was the fight, he thought. They'd never really had one. Maybe that's all they needed to trigger themselves.

He unhooked the catch, unzipped the fly, and crawled out of the burdensome cloth. Yanking his shirt off, he threw it in the corner and pressed his naked, hairless chest against Madge's. He trapped her hands on her breasts with his own, and taking her small fingers in his, he helped her knead her own flesh as he craned his neck to watch. It was the most exciting thing he had ever done with his wife.

"Oh, Madge. Madge." He let his tongue slip out and into her ear, probing in it like a snake in a cave.

"Arny. Hold me. Fill me with love, Arny."

She reached down and he felt her fingers curl around his staff. Her cool, slender fingers. God, it was such a sensation, like wrapping four cold strips of bacon around your wrist, Arny thought. She's never touched me there before. Never. "Squeeze it," he said hoarsely into her ear. "Squeeze it."

Madge needed no instruction. Flashes of her bouts with John clicked across her memory like slides from a projector. But she knew this wasn't John's penis, it was her husband's.

Squeezing it and stripping it, she guided its bulging head toward her wet vagina. She pressed it against her slit and rubbed it around in slow circles as John had told her to do to him the night before.

"In," Arny said. "Put it in."

He sucked at her breasts, yanking them up and twirling the nipples with his fingers until they were spiked. He rotated his hips and began to screw in his cock shaft. As he shoved it in gently he felt her hands creep up to the cheeks of his ass and begin to pull him in. He paused, and then drove down with all his weight, feeling the soft flesh yielding and smothering his long, throbbing penis. Her fingers were digging into the soft meat of his ass as he humped into her. Her thrusts were synchronized with his so that as he banged down, she lunged up and wriggled, sending shivers up and down his spine.

He had never known her like this, and now, under him, she was suddenly as passionate and lusty as Beth had been the other night. Her flesh was no longer passive or hesitant, it was tingling, electrified, contagious. He could hear her gasping and moaning, feel her vaginal muscles contracting and relaxing around his sensitive penis. It was unbelievable to him.

"Deeper, deeper," she moaned, letting her hands fall to the bedspread and balling them into fists as he smashed deeper and deeper into her. "Fuck me, Arny. Fuck me."

Arny almost stopped. He'd never heard her use that word. It spurred him on. He clutched her cheeks with his hands and yanked her savagely to his groin, feeling her mons smash against him. Again and again he whacked into her until he felt her tensing, her buttocks tightening, her face knotting.

"Ummph," she uttered as he began pistoning into her.

"Are you ready?" he asked, yanking her up, pushing her back.

"Yes. Yes. Fuck me, fuck me hard."

He dropped her to the bed and let his weight press against her as he plumbed madly into her. She threw her legs around his waist, dug her fingernails in his back, and screamed as she shivered and shuddered.

Madge's insides were exploding. She was raw and sore from the sexual feast the night before and Arny's angry passion now. Her climax was mixed with the flooding sensation of relief and the searing, piercing sensation of pain. Holding Arny in her deathlike grasp, she let out a long, shrilly scream which Arny muffled by pressing his mouth down over hers and jabbing his tongue into her.

"Oh, God, that was good," Arny said, stroking her sweating forehead and kissing her eyelids. "Where have we been all our lives, Madge?"

His pretty wife looked up at him dreamily. A satisfied, contented look swept over her face as she let her fingernail run the length of his shoulder. She never wanted to leave the bed. She wanted to hold him forever; as far as she was concerned, this man above her was the Arny she had always imagined. He was the sexy, rough beast who took her when and where he pleased. And her job was to make him happy and to keep him happy.

Then her euphoria shattered.

"What did you have planned tonight, dear?"

Tonight - oh, God, no! she thought. Not tonight.

"We were invited someplace, but I...."'

"Where?" Arny's voice was curt. The atmosphere in the room suddenly seemed gloomy.

"To the Hallmans'," Madge whispered, trying to control her shaky voice.

"Who are the Hallmans?" Arny asked, trying to sound casual. He didn't want to get trapped and have to tell her he already knew Beth.

"The - the people across the street. I stayed with them last night. They asked us to -"

"You stayed with them? But I...." Arny let the words trail off into the oppressive silence. How could she have stayed with them? She was supposed to have been at Beth's queer aunt's house.

"What did you say?" Madge asked looking curiously at him.

"I -I thought you stayed at a motel or something. I didn't think the neighbors knew." He forced his guilty voice to sound disconcerted about the idea of the neighbors knowing. It didn't come off.

"We have to go. I promised," Madge said finally, turning her back and looking at the blank wall.

Arny could feel the tension growing. It was like the atmosphere before a storm - oppressive, malevolent. "How do we dress?" he asked, his voice resigned to the situation that lay ahead.

"Simply," Madge said coolly. "Simply. We won't stay long."

"Madge, dear. And this must be Arny?"

Beth stood ushering the nervous couple into the foyer. She was dressed in multicolored hostess culottes with bellbottom legs that whipped out around her trim ankles. Her hair was swirled up around her head in a flowing line that started from her left ear and wound its way to a crown of auburn hair constructed at the peak of her head.

Madge nodded her recognition and then let her eyes fall to the floor. Arny shifted from one foot to the other, a sheepish look plastered on his face.

"I'm Arny," he said lightly, waving at John who was negotiating the two steps up from the sunken living room. He carried a trayful of drinks and wore an innocuous, affable smile.

"I'd shake, neighbor, but I don't think we'd enjoy sucking up the drinks from the rug." He and Beth laughed. Madge glanced at John, her eyes cold and hateful.

"Glad to see you again, Mrs. Tillman," John said casually, proffering the tray of drinks to her. "I hope you slept well last night?"

Her hand trembled from anger; but Madge forced a smile on her face. "Not as well as I would have liked," she said flatly, sipping the cool refreshment.

John wheeled expertly on his heel and faced Arny. "Pick one, old man, they're all the same."

"Sorry," Arny waved his hand. "I've sworn off. I'll just have a Coke or something." He glanced at Beth furtively and ran his fingers under his collar as he shifted his weight from one nervous leg to the other.

"Oh, Arny," Beth said, cooing up to him and hanging on his arm as she pressed her breast imperceptibly against his arm. "Please have a few social drinks with us. You'll make us all feel so bad."

"No, I...." He glanced at Madge, who stood wide-eyed looking at Beth clinging to him. "I -"

Puckering her red, sensual lips up at him, Beth pressed harder and said, "Please, Arny?"

"All right. All right." Arny leaned back, trying to break Beth's contact.

"Good. Now we're all alike," Beth said, releasing her grip on him. "Come into the living room and sit down. We'll eat in a few moments."

"Play pool?" John asked, placing a firm hand on Arny's slouching back as Beth took Madge's arm and guided her down the steps and into the plush living room.

"Some. I'm not very good at it," Arny confessed, feeling his feet sink into the rich carpeting. The room was opulent. The dark Mediterranean furniture sat low and sleek on the bright red carpet, dully shining in the subdued luminescence of indirect lighting. Soft music seeped from the loudspeakers spaced around the house in corners and nooks. A small gas fire flickered in an L-shaped corner of the room.

"Very nice," Arny said, standing in the center of the room and turning around viewing the tasteful surroundings. "It's like a palace in here."

"Just some thrifty decorating," Beth said, patting the roomy couch beside her. "Sit down and relax."

Pretending he didn't notice her invitation, he settled down in an overstuffed armchair and tasted his drink. It was good and it helped him relax. He needed the composure to get through this evening.

"A little later well have to try our-hand at pool, Arny," John said, crossing his hulking legs. "I've got a table downstairs and some very interesting adaptations to the regular game."

"Yes," Arny said, soaking in the room again with his eyes. "I'd tike that."

"How about you, Mrs. Tillman - Madge - do you ever play pool?"

"I hate pool," Madge snapped, sitting erectly on the edge of the couch next to Beth.

"That's odd," Arny said, looking at his wife's angry face. "We played before and you seemed to like it all right then."

"I've changed my mind," she snapped coolly, looking at the clear fluid in her glass.

"Women. Never can predict what they're going to do next." His laugh was hollow. Everyone looked curiously at him.

"Well, how's the junior executive business?" John said, staring into Arny's eyes. Without meeting his stare Arny answered, talking lightly about the company and its product.

"Madge was telling us the other night that you do a lot of homework," John said, drawing heavily from his drink.

"Yes. Yes. Got to keep up on things." Arny squeezed the cool glass nervously. Everyone watched him.

"Have to work late a lot?"

"Sometimes." Arny tugged at his collar again.

"Wouldn't be fooling around with a woman on the side, would you?"

Arny jerked up and stared at John. The man sat coolly, leaning back in his chair and watching.

"Of course not," Arny blurted, looking at Madge. His wife's mouth was set and her jaws were clamped tightly. She stared at John.

"Just kidding," John said. "You know the way things are today. Everyone seems to be playing around with everyone else. What do you think about it all, Mrs. Tillman - Madge?"

"I think those people are sick. I think they're perverted. They're vulgar beasts."

"You sound bitter, Madge," Beth said, placing a friendly hand on Madge's shoulder. Madge shrugged and cringed at Beth's touch.

"I'm really not feeling well," Madge said, setting her drink down. "I think we'd better go.

"Oh, no -you couldn't. I've cooked a wonderful supper. I must insist. Stay!" Madge felt the commanding tone and sank back down on the couch.

"Maybe we better -"

"Now, now," Beth interrupted. "Madge is feeling better, aren't you dear," Beth said, cupping Madge's sour face in her hands and looking at it. "You better straighten up, bitch, or you'll be sorry," she whispered as she smiled at the angered woman.

"Honey?" Arny half-rose, his drink leaning dangerously forward. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Sit down before you spill your drink." Madge felt trapped and infuriated. She had to control herself or she would stand and spit on them and march Arny home to tell him the whole, ugly story. He'd understand. He'd have to understand.

"Well, let's eat and then shoot some pool," John said, saluting with his drained glass. They rose after him and headed mechanically for the dining room table.

"I hope you like stew," Beth said, settling in her chair between Madge and Arny and across from her husband. "Oysters are prime this time of year and it's our favorite specialty. Help yourself." She smiled affably as the couple stared blankly at her. "John and I are having raw eggs, dashed with oodles of Tabasco sauce. If you haven't tried it, you really should." She plucked up a raw egg and drove a pencil-shaped tapper into the egg's end. Both Madge and Arny watched fascinated as the woman widened the hole, then sprinkled the red sauce into it.

John did the same.

"To our new friends," Beth toasted, holding the raw, spiced egg up toward John's. She tossed her head back, thrusting out her breasts as she did, and tilted the egg a few inches above her face. Slowly, the viscous, clear white of the egg, mottled by the red sauce, oozed out in a long, stream toward her open mouth and protruding tongue. John aped the scene from his end of the table.

As the slick, slimy liquid began to roll down her tongue, Beth licked around the thread of sticky gunk as if it were a long piece of spaghetti.

Arny sat agog, watching the obscene act he suspected was being done especially for him.

Yet, John was doing it too.... The couple seemed to be acting out a ritual, a disturbing rite that made Arny shift uneasily in his chair.

Madge hated them both. She knew what they were doing. They were taunting her, they were trying to make her bolt away and cry - it was a test to see how much she could take. She could take it. She knew she could. She loved Arny. That meant everything to her. These wretched people couldn't hurt her, not if she clung to Arny, not if she had his arms to fall into, to hold her, to soothe her and soak up her tears.

The yolk was coming. It bulged out of the tiny hole like a teardrop and then oozed down, its bright yellow streaked with Tabasco. Some of the glistening egg white ran down the corners of Beth's mouth. Arny felt his loins stir as he thought of the night before when her lips had suckled at his stiff cock and his sperm had shot into her gulping mouth. He pulled at his collar and loosened his tie as the last drop of the egg slid down Beth's throat.

"You really should try it sometime," Beth said, wiping her glistening lips. "It's a wonderful primer."

"I'm sure it is," Madge said sarcastically, spooning into her oyster stew.

"Delicious," John said, wiping his mouth with his arm. "Best eggs I've had in a long time. How about you, Arny. Think you'd like to try?" He held out an egg.

"No. No thanks." Arny held up his hands and cocked his head to the side. "I'll stick to the stew. It's very good, Mrs. Hallman." He turned and smiled at her.

"You can call me Beth, Arny. Any man who watches me eat an egg that way can call me by my first name." Cattily, she looked at Madge whose eyes were burning into her. "How do you like the soup, Madge, honey?"

"It's filling," Madge answered, making a loud slurping sound that embarrassed Arny.

"She likes it. She likes it," John said, mocking her slurps. "Any woman who can attack something like that, must have a real passion for soup. Just listen to those lips smack."

Arny shifted uneasily in his chair. Something was screwy with the whole bit. It wasn't just him and Beth. It was a game they all seemed to be playing, some cat and mouse bit and he didn't know the rules. Arny shook his head and thought about it, resolving that he might be just edgy and paranoiac. It was probably just his imagination and he was reading all the other signs into it.

The spoon was halfway to his mouth when he dropped it. It clattered down, splashing into the milk-white soup.

"Butterfingers," Beth said, flashing her eyes at him. Madge glared at the woman.

"Fingers are oily," Arny said, blushing. It wasn't oily fingers and Beth knew it. She had jabbed her foot between his thighs and kicked lightly at his testicles. Her foot was still there, prying at his balls, trying to worm its way under his leg to his buttocks. He turned toward her and tried to glare. She smiled and jiggled her toes against his groin. He dropped his gaze to the soup and began shoveling it in quickly. Even though his wife was sitting an arm's reach away and the woman's husband was even closer, Arny couldn't control the erection. His cock was becoming stiffer and stiffer. He shoved the napkin down and tried to push her foot away. No dice.

Madge's eyes were cast down and she fumbled with her napkin. John's hand was rubbing up her thigh as he sat looking as if he were only eating soup. Madge moved her hand to his and tried to push him away. His steellike fingers gripped her thigh and she almost cried out in pain. Even though she cringed at his touch, there was something powerfully exciting about his right hand on her leg. She hated herself for even feeling that way, but she couldn't stop the warm glow that ebbed through her as she clandestinely struggled to rid herself of the man's intruding hand.

Beth was rubbing her stockinged foot up Arny's pant leg, occasionally reaching for the salt, and tugging lightly at his middle finger. It was a dangerous act and Arny lost his erection as he studied Madge's soup-turned face. If she looked up just once... just once when Beth was touching him....

"Let's all have an after-dinner drink down in the basement. We can shoot a game of pool and call it an evening. Anyone object?" John looked at his guests, his left eyebrow cocked.

Arny and Madge both started to speak, but both fell silent without uttering a word of protest. They stood mechanically and followed John down the stairs.

"Nice, huh?" John said, walking around the table and dragging his finger along the edge.

"Very nice," Arny answered, admiring the heavy green felt. "I bet that cost."

"Not more than a good fuck," John said, slipping behind Madge and pulling her to him.

Arny froze, Unable to believe what he saw and heard. Beth was behind him, her arms slipping around his waist and cupping his balls.

"Pool tables are as expensive as a good fuck," she said huskily, squeezing the amazed man's penis.

Madge said nothing. She stood, letting John's rough hands massage her as the shock set in.

"I think we better lay our cards on the table," Beth said finally. "You, Madge, Arny. Get naked!"