Chapter 7
The Friday night party was in full swing. Marge Caspar had been to the beauty parlor that afternoon and had her light brown hair coiffed in a chic upsweep, and then a facial massage, and even Jack had given her an approving whistle when she got back into the kitchen and started preparing the buffet fare for their guests. She'd put on a hip-hugging, yellow, summer cotton frock and her gauziest charcoal brown nylons, and Jack Caspar told himself that even if there weren't a party tonight, the presence of Ella Courtnay in the bungalow, on Cedar Street, had already paid dividends.
Because, knowing herself to be on display tonight, Marge didn't intend to take a back seat for her black-haired, sexy niece. And she was looking forward to the party, which was still another good sign. Needless to say, he hadn't let her even guess what had happened in the kitchen Wednesday night, and for that matter, he'd kept from being alone with Ella until tonight, just so things wouldn't get out of hand. But he knew one thing: when she started playing around with Matt or Dave or Pete the way she had with him out there in the kitchen, there were going to be real fireworks tonight!
Jack's practiced eye told him that while his friends were enjoying the cold meats and cheese and potato chips and crackers from the buffet table, their wives were still a bit standoffish. Dorothy Tilden was sitting at the end of the big couch in the living room, toying with her half-finished Scotch, looking sulky, just the way she had when she'd walked in with Matt, about an hour ago. Jack knew what her beef was; she was still dog-housing her hubby because she thought he'd scored with that tasty red-haired widow a couple of weeks back. And Eleanor Dudley hadn't contributed two words to the conversation, all because she was fed up with living in the suburbs and was nagging Pete to move into Chicago, since after all, the headquarters of his firm was located there. June Wormsley seemed to be having a fine time, and she'd been pleasant enough, but there the problem went a lot deeper. Dave was right about her looking like a sexpot, but she was a long way from being one, so far as her husband was concerned.
"Freshen up your drink, Dorothy?" he gave the tall, slim, honey-haired matron an affable smile.
"No thanks, Jack. This is fine."
He sat down beside her for a moment. "Don't be so tense, Dottie," he said engagingly. "We're going to liven up the party before long, don't you worry."
Tm not worried about that, Jack. I'm just fine. Go take care of your other guests, hmm?"
"If you say so. But you're the prettiest girl here, and I don't mind spending a little time with you, especially if Marge isn't noticing," he joked.
She gave him a wan smile and took a sip of her Scotch. "Thanks for trying," she murmured, with an indifferent shrug.
He nodded, moved over to June Wormsley, who greeted him with a friendly, innocent smile. It really was innocent, too. But as he sat down beside her on the other end of the couch, he had an idea of what Dave had been going through. Because June Wormsley was really stacked. She was twenty-five, about medium height, and the glasses gave her heart-shaped face an even more ingenuous look. She had big round bubbies, set closely together and high perched, and her pretty red, summery dress hugged those love globes in a very prick-hardening way. From her slim waist there flared lushly rounded hips and full, womanly thighs, equally delineated by the cling of her skirt. She had a rosebud of a mouth, a dainty, turned-up nose, and big soft-blue eyes behind those glasses, and her skin was even creamier than Ella's. If he had had to pick and choose from any of the three wives here as his guests tonight, Jack Caspar knew, it would be no one but June Wormsley, but if he could believe Dave's repeated testimonials, he might as well take up gardening in a tropical island if he were marooned there with her.
"Feeling no pain, June?" he cheerily wanted to know.
She shook her head, adjusted her glasses, then giggled. "Oh, it's just lovely, Jack. What have you got in the way of entertainment? Are we going to play bridge or something? I'm a terrible player, Dave says."
"Oh, we'll find a game to play of some sort, Junie, don't you worry. Can't I get you a drink or something?"
"No, indeed. Summertime is just the time when a girl puts on weight."
"Your figure is perfect, so you don't have to worry, take it from me!"
June Wormsley blushed demurely, then giggled again. As Jack Caspar rose and patted her knee by way of temporary farewell, he understood even more Dave's bedtime frustrations. A girl like this and with a figure like hers ought to give off sparks, but she was just as tame as dishwater.
It was a crying shame and something was going to have to be done about it to keep old Dave happy.
Eleanor Dudley was over by herself in a big armchair by the fireplace, chatting amicably enough with Marge. As he took a handful of potato chips from the buffet table bowl, Jack Caspar gave her the once-over. She was twenty-four, tawny-skinned, auburn-haired, and about five-feet-seven. Her green dress outlined two small but beautifully firm round titties, like oranges, but her hips and thighs were a good deal more opulent; and she had long, sinuously high set calves, which, crossed now, made him stare a little longer than usual because the smoke-colored nylons she was wearing made them all the more alluring. He wouldn't mind having those wrapped around his neck, not one little bit. He walked over to the armchair, patted Marge on the back, gave her a quick kiss on the ear, and smiled down at Eleanor, he asked, "Can I do anything for you, Eleanor, honey?"
"I don't know, Jack," she replied with a weary sigh. "You'll probably think I'm a real party pooper. I've been trying to get Pete to leave Glendview and live in Chicago. It's terribly dull out here, and then when he's traveling, it's worse."
"Now, we can't afford to lose a beautiful girl like you, Ellie," he chuckled. "You just put it out of your mind tonight and tell yourself you're going to have a high old time. Get me?"
"It would take a miracle, Jack, and I don't think you've got any up your sleeve," she said in a disconsolate tone.
"Maybe I have," he hinted as he walked back to the buffet table and got another handful of potato chips. At the other end of the room, Matt, Pete and Dave were standing talking to his sexy niece. To Marge's relief, Ella had not put on her hot pants tonight, but she had put on a green minidress whose skirt showed a good half of her thighs, and her off-black pantyhose almost caused drooling attention to her luscious legs. Pete, Matt and Dave were crowded around her the way flies crowd around honey, and he recognized all the signs. There wouldn't be any trouble with them, not when it came to working them up to a little pussy swapping, but the problem would be in getting the girls to give.
"I hate to break it up, you guys, but I'll need my niece here to run the projector in about ten minutes," he warned.
"Movies, Uncle Jack?" Ella cooed as she came forward and held out both hands, giving his a squeeze.
"Take it easy, baby," he whispered. "Everybody's watching. Yeah, in about ten minutes. I've got some real good movies."
"Yeah, I know. Out in the Rockies or trout fishing, or something like that."
"Go to the foot of the class, Ella. They're blue movies, if you want to know something."
"You mean a stag ... a real stag film, Uncle Jack? Oh boy!" she whispered back with feverish excitement, her eyes sparkling. "Aren't you afraid you'll shock your guests ... I mean their wives, natch."
"We'll see. Come into the hallway a minute. I want to talk to you, Ella baby."
He glanced around and saw that everybody was preoccupied. He moved quickly out into the hall, and Ella followed. When he was out of sight of the living room, he gripped her wrists, drew her to him, kissed her on the lips, and whispered, "Listen, baby, here's your chance to do your real good deed. I get the idea you're a real swinger-I got it from Wednesday night, if you remember."
"Oh you! Sure, I'm a swinger. I get bored to death with guys who try to treat me as if I were a piece of expensive chinaware. If you want to know, Uncle Jack, I'm not cherry and I take pills and I don't mind scoring with a guy who knows the score, if you know what I mean. So what's the score?"
"Do you like my three friends there-Matt and Pete and Dave?"
"They're real nice. Good-looking, too. And all out of circulation."
"Sure, they're married. But they're all having a helluva time of it, baby. Take Matt, there. His wife has got him in the doghouse for the last month because she thinks he's cheated on her with one of his customers at the bank. He can't even get into bed with her."
"The poor guy!" Ella Courtnay commiserated.
"Sure he is. And Pete, with that cute red-haired wife of his, is having troubles because she's fed up with the suburbs and all his trials and tribulations, and she's nagging at him to move away from here. So naturally they're not hitting it off in bed. And then, there's Dave."
"But his wife's such a cute little thing, and those glasses and everything. She's just as sexy as I am," Ella Courtnay giggled.
"That's where you're wrong, baby. She's worse than a two-dollar lay. And she's been that way all the five years they've been married."
"What's the matter? Doesn't she like to bang? With a swell guy like Dave?" Ella wanted to know.
"I don't know if she's frigid or whether her folks brought her up to think sex was wicked, or what. But she's got no zip, and she couldn't care less. It's like when he takes her to bed, she just looks up at the ceiling and waits for him to finish."
"Oh, that's a shame."
"I thought you'd feel that way. Now, my idea is, if we show this movie and get the guys worked up, and maybe you did a little flirting here and there, it might just get these broads jealous enough to think about making their hubbies pay attention to them. Or maybe to me."
"Why, Uncle Jack, you sly old fox, you!" Ella Courtnay shook a teasing finger at him. 'Now I get the drift, you want to swap house keys, don't you? But if you're looking for variety, you've got me, you know. Or didn't you like what you got Wednesday night? There's lots more where that came from, only you didn't seem to mind where that came from."
His face flushed hotly. "There's time enough to show you how interested I am in you, you little dickens!" he said thickly. "But the whole point of this party was to work out a kind of swapping society, see? Now I'll tell you something else, and you'd better keep it in strict confidence, or I'll really fan your pretty tail. Marge was giving me fits, too, till I took her over my lap and gave her a real bottom warming. She's been sweet as sugar ever since, and I told those guys that's what they ought to do with their broads. So maybe if you create a little excitement tonight, maybe they might take old Uncle Jack's tip, and anything could happen from there on in."
"I get it. Leave it to little Ella." She gave him a roguish wink and-then, unexpectedly, putting her arms around him, rubbed her crotch against his and whispered, "I'll make a pass at them, never fear, Uncle Jack. But if I do what you want, you've got to take care of little Ella when she's feeling blue? Okay?"
He shuddered, his hands squeezing her voluptuous young ass, "promise," he agreed. "Now get out there and do your stuff."