Chapter 5
Girl Scouts? No, they were too old. A DAR convention, maybe. Not a chance ... too much skin was showing. Who, then, were the five hundred plus lovely ladies congregated near the nearly completed Venus Municipal Pier? Lovers, that's who. John Mykonos rented a phone room and ten women to phone all the names listed in the two books left in his safe keeping. Very few, judging from the turnout, had declined the invitation to see Billy Black and brother Nick square off for the battle which, at least in the minds of the inhabitants of that microcosm, erased forever any memory of other such trivialities such as the Dempsy Tunney fiasco.
"Hi, Helen," said a well-built redhead to a similarly constructed blonde. "How nice you look this morning. That's last year's bikini, isn't it?"
"Yes, it has great sentimental value to me. Doing your hair yourself these days? The roots are peeking through a bit. No, no, the other side, dear."
"Who are you pulling for?"
"Me? Why, I just saw the crowd and wondered what it was all about."
"But I thought you were going to New York this morning."
"Cancelled. Which one is yours?"
"Why, whatever are you talking about?"
Nick and Billy entered the area at the same time, so it was impossible to tell from the ovation who was favored. Nick had purchased a pair of black satin trunks with white trim and his monogram especially for the event, while Billy appeared in his trademark outfit: the faded red trunks and the "Fuck-the-Establishment" T-shirt. The two smiling men met and shook hands. They brought on more ovations by waving at the throng.
"Friends of yours?" Billy said through his smile without moving his lips.
"It looks about your way."
"I agree, but don't feel badly about it. I've had a few years on you. Nervous?"
"Yeah, but I don't know whether it's because I'm so graphically faced by the fruits of all that labor, or the fact that I want a piece of your ass so badly."
"They're still coming in. Goddamn, there's a lot of pussy. Makes my nuts ache to think about all the effort that went into it."
"It completely rattles my brain," Nick said, scanning the crowd again. "Each familiar face triggers the experience I had with that particular person. My whole life is being flashed before my eyes. It's so mind-shattering, I might switch over to Johnny's way of thinking after today."
"Assuming, of course, that you'll be here after today."
"Oh, III be here, old man. It's you I'm worried about."
"What do you say we take it easy for ten minutes or so? You know, just to be sure they get their money's worth."
"Okay with me."
Johnny came up between the men and quieted the crowd. "May I have your attention, please? Ladies and Gentlemen!" Everybody laughed since Irish Bob seemed to be the only male in the crowd. "This is the time when I should be giving instructions to the fighters; but since there are no instructions to give, this being a no-holds barred contest, I shall instruct you, instead. When the men need room, give it to them. Don't press too close. There is plenty of room, so hang loose. The only time I will interfere will be in case one of you lovely ladies (a shudder passed over him) gets caught up in the heat of the battle and starts hitting or kicking the man other than her champion. If that happens, I will stop you. Believe me, I'm not the least bit squeamish about hitting a woman." Another laugh went up from the gathering. "Gentlemen, are you ready?" Both men nodded. "Commence!"
Bill sprung toward Nick and nearly broke his jaw with a vicious right hook. Surprised by the blow, Nick fell on all fours and Billy kicked him in the balls from the rear. He kicked him so hard, he fractured the big toe on his right foot and Nick fell on his side and held his groin, screaming from the pain.
After delivering a kick to Nick's ribs, Billy aimed one at his face; but Nick grabbed his leg, spun him down and sunk his teeth into his calf. "Hey, mother-fucker, that hurts!" shouted Billy, removing his foe by yanking a handful of black curly locks out of the top of his head.
Both men got back to their feet, and Billy tried to spring at him again; but his injured leg and broken toe caused him to fall short, and Nick crushed Billy's nose with a perfectly timed kick to the falling man's face.
Billy was hurt. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs and for the first time was aware of the reaction of the spectators. Most were in a state of shock. Some of the others cheered. Some cried. A few lost their breakfast. Nick rushed him and sent him sprawling once more with a knee to his chin. Billy didn't think he could get up; but he did, and the fight continued for another fifteen minutes in the traditional boxing manner.
Little more than staggering pulps of bleeding flesh the two men did the best they could with very little in reserve. Nick missed with a wild right hand and Billy got lucky. He stuck his man with a stiff jab and followed through with a classic right cross that knocked out three of Nick's teeth and broke Billy's hand. Nick fell at the base of the pier and disappeared under it. Billy hoped he wouldn't come out. He didn't. John came out, wearing his brother's trunks and smeared with enough of his blood to fool everybody.
"It's ... it's the cocksucker," Billy managed to say. "The ... the real one!" He saw the punch coming, but he didn't have enough strength left to raise his guard.
About two hours later he woke up in his bed. A very beautiful, but unfamiliar face came into focus. "Who are you?" he mumbled.
"Jane Conklin. You know my father."
"You're very pretty."
"Thank you. You used to be." She dabbed his eyes with a cold washcloth.
"I don't feel anything."
"You're full of dope."
"What's this?" he asked, touching the splint on his face.
"That used to be your nose. The doctor set what was left of it."
"How many women hung around to see if I was all right?"
"One. Me. The others left you on the beach. Get some sleep. You need a lot of it. I'll stay with you."
"Why?"
"I want to. A fellow named Bob Coffee helped me get you home."
"That's very funny. All it all boils down to is no friends, a kind stranger, and a compassionate enemy."
"What did you ever do to him?"
"I introduced a friend of mine to his old lady. It was a bad scene."
"Is he really Irish?"
"Who, Bob? Naw, he's Jewish."
"I feel a straight line coming on, but here goes: Why does everybody call him Irish Bob?"
"Because," Billy yawned, "he gets very pissed off when someone calls him Irish Coffee." He turned his head slightly and fell asleep.
Her bell rang three times before Dolly answered it. She dabbed one more dab of perfume, turned the light down one more notch and slightly backed off the volume control on the stereo, "Why, come in, Mr. Jackson," she said ever so sweetly. "I've been expecting you."
Chucker heard an alarm go off in his head. A lot of things in this world confused him, but one of them was definitely not the intent of the tone in a woman's voice. He could determine with uncanny accuracy exactly what a woman was after by listening closely to her voice and looking into her eyes; and those few simple words told him in no uncertain terms that the lovely creature standing before him wanted to get in his britches. Dolly was wearing a wispy, pale green arnel shift that clung to her as though it were applied with an oil gun. Chucker didn't know arnel from asbestos, but he never had any trouble recognizing nipples; and the two aroused ones minting directly at him were as inviting as any he had ever seen. The alarm told him to ask her to have Mr. Wilson meet him in his car.
"Thank you," he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "Is Mr. Wilson here?"
"He had to go out for a minute. Won't you sit down?"
"Thank you. Are you Mrs. Wilson?"
"No, Mother passed away a couple of years ago."
"Sorry to hear that."
"That's very thoughtful of you to show concern. Thoughtfulness is a trait rarely found these days."
"Your name wouldn't be Helen, would it?" His face furrowed with worry.
"Why, yes, how did you know?"
Perspiration popped out on his palms. "Oh, somebody mentioned that Mr. Wilson had a daughter named Helen, that's all." He shot out of his chair. "When Mr. Wilson comes, would you tell him I had to run?"
Dolly went to him and took his hands. "Please, don't go. Daddy will be back in just a few minutes. How about a drink?"
'No, thank you."
"What can I get for you?"
"Nothin', but if you really want to do something, you could let go of my hands. I'm about to jump out of my skin."
"Why, whatever for?"
"Lady, I'm supposed to be in training, and you don't have no idea what just lookin' at you is doin' to my metabolism."
"Well, then," she said, sliding her arms around his waist, "don't look at me."
"Please, let go," he pleaded. She could feel him getting an erection, for her knockers were striking him just above his cock and muscle spasms developed on that area of his stomach.
"Don't be silly. What could possibly happen? My father is going to walk in at any moment. Bend down."
"What for?"
"Do it." He did; she kissed him, and he thought the top of his head was coming off. She put her hand on his cock and pulled it around so it was pointing straight up, then rubbed her nipples across the head.
"Miss Wilson?"
"Yes, Mr. Jackson?"
"Would it be all right if we went into the bedroom and fucked for a few hours?" He kissed her hair, eyes, forehead, nose, and ears, before returning to her delicious mouth. If a cobra had crawled out of her bosom, he would have kissed that too.
"What if my father were to walk in?"
"Hell just have to wait his turn ... I mean, we could bolt the door, and I could jump out the window when he comes."
"All right, Chucker. You're a very persuasive person. Get undressed and get into bed. I'll be right in."
Chucker ran to the bedroom as fast as he could and by the time he reached the bed, he was completely naked. He lay back, stuffed one pillow between his legs and gathered up the other in his arms. The alarm in his head sounded again, this time louder than an atomic attack warning. He touched his cock, and it felt so good he didn't want to let go. Then a preview of the next day's workout flashed through his mind. He could see himself too weak to hold the ball, and every time he shot, the ball would travel about two feet and fall right into Dick Horton's hands. Dick would then fire the ball the entire length of the court and hit the shot, laughing as he did and receiving a standing ovation from the coaches. "He's our great white hope!" they shouted. Chucker tried to run after the ball, but he could barely move, and when he looked down he saw his legs were fettered in heavy lead boots, like the television commercial about school dropouts. When the workout was over, the coaches lifted Dick onto their shoulders and presented him with a giant gift-wrapped box. When he opened it, Helen jumped into his arms. She was naked except for a big red ribbon tied around her pussy. As Dick hurriedly unwrapped his present, Chucker dejectedly made his way back to the showers.
The showers! That's it, he thought. A nice cold shower. He ran into the bathroom and, forgetting to duck, bumped his head above the shower compartment and fell inside. His hand groped for the cold water side and he flipped it on. The icy water shocked him back to reality. His muscles, hot from sweat, contracted severely at the sudden change of temperature. Soon even his hard-on disappeared and his respiration returned to normal.
"Chucker, I'm ready for you," Dolly cooed on the other side of the curtain.
Chucker looked up and saw her naked outline through the translucent curtain. He ducked his head back between his knees. "I ... I have to go home, Miss Wilson."
She knelt down so he could hear her clearly. "But lover, I want you. My pussy is all hot and juicy. It aches to hold your magnificent cock inside it."
"Oh, shit, lady!" he shouted, covering his ears. "For God's sake, don't talk that way!"
"I can't help telling you how I feel. I want you to fuck me, lover. I want you to fuck me until I pass out. And I want to eat you. I want to take your cock in my mouth and run my tongue around the head of it. I want to suck it wantonly and feel your hot come gush into my mouth and down my throat."
"You ... you might as well save your breath, Helen. I can't hear a cock ... I mean a word you say."
She threw back the curtain. Chucker didn't look up. Dolly turned on the hot tap and tood behind him, rubbing her tits across his back. He didn't respond. She got the soap, lathered her palm and started jerking him off very slowly. His cock jumped to attention. The civil war within Chucker was taking such a heavy toll on his emotions that tears came to his eyes. "But ... but your father?"
"He just called. He said he was sorry, but he can't make it."
"He's sorry? He's not half as sorry as I am."
Dolly pouted. "You sure know how to hurt a girl."
"Come here, angel. I didn't mean that." He pulled her around and into his lap. "You look fantastic," he said, kissing one of her nipples.
She found his rigid cock with her left hand and, twisting her body slightly, fed it into her cunt and nestled down upon it, like a mother hen settling over her eggs. "I feel fantastic!"
Fingers kept a schedule on Dolly's work and shopping habits, then would monitor the mirror every hour or so when she was home. He saw her dressing earlier in the evening and knew he was going to be in for a great show, because of the way she primped and made over herself in the mirror.
About the time Chucker arrived, Fingers heard a woman screaming out front and went to investigate. A man had a woman pinned up against the front of his store and was slapping the shit out of her. Fingers ran out to her rescue, judo chopped the assailant a couple of times on the back of his neck and threw him to the ground. "Run," he told the woman, keeping his eye on the fallen man.
"Why don't you mind your own goddamned business, you stupid old fart!" shouted the woman, banging Fingers on the head with the spiked heel of her shoe. Fingers went down, and she knelt over her attacker and smothered him with kisses and words of comfort.
It took the doctor about an hour to stitch up the gash in Fingers' head and by the time he got back home, Chucker and Dolly were just about finished with their lovemaking. They lay in the semi-dark room, stroking each other. Fingers strained his eyes, trying to make out the identity of the man, and decided it must be Dick on account of his height (or length as was the case in this instance). Ain't that nice, he thought. Gittin' all spruced up that way, and jist for her old man.
Dolly made the long journey from Chucker's chin to his cock and dotted his torso with kisses en route. She had never made it with a Negro before, and was somewhat surprised to find no difference between Chucker and any other capable lover she had shared her bed with. She really didn't know what she had expected. In her fantasies, she had sometimes imagined a big black stud arousing desires within her that had been heretofore untapped by whitey. If anything, she was saddened by this encounter, for she hadn't the slightest idea what she could find to replace the black lover in her fantasy. She covered Chucker's cock with her mouth and he quickly sprang back to life.
Fingers began to sweat. The poor lighting made the act even more alluring to him, as he played both parts of the lovers he was watching and conjured up, what for him, was an amazing erection. It was self-lubricating enough that he didn't even have to use any spittle, and he was soon whacking away as well as he had since he was a kid. He pretended to be Dick and imagined Dolly's beautiful lips upon the head of his cock. He could actually feel the warmth and silky wetness of her mouth upon him and his ancient rod got even harder. The pain in the back of his head went away, and he pretended he was Dolly, and he moved his head up and down over Dick's imaginary cock while stroking himself in perfect time.
Chucker exploded in Dolly's mouth, but it was Fingers who felt the fiery semen in his throat, as his own poured out into his hand. He had never thought of sucking a cock before, and the excitement of the new experience flooded him with the turbulent wonder of new discovery. His moment of great joy, however, was very short lived.
Nick stepped into Dolly's bedroom and flipped on the light.
Dolly screamed.
Chucker jumped to his feet and prepared to defend himself.
Fingers, spat, gagged and vomited. He wiped his mouth so vigorously with his sleeve that he lost his balance and crashed through the mirror.
Nick said he had heard from Norman what was going on and became so jealous that he couldn't stand it.
Dolly responded by smashing a lamp over Nick's already bruised and bandaged head.
Fingers, cut and bleeding all over, screamed 'Nigger lover' a few hundred times in Dolly's ear and informed her that she no longer lived there.
Dolly called Fingers a perverted, scummy, decrepit, old one-handed turd and kicked him in the balls.
No one seemed to be paying any attention to Chucker, so he casually got dressed and went home.
There was absolutely no communication between Dolly and Nick the next night at the Sandpiper, except when Dolly had to order a drink from him. But even within the limitations of bar vocabulary, she managed to let him know what was on her mind. Whether she ordered a scotch and soda or seven and seven or whatever, "you son of a bitch" was intoned in every order, and everyone in the room picked it up. Nick was helpless. like a whipped dog, he tended bar with his tail between his legs. Several times he tried to apologize for breaking in on her, but her nose was high in the air all night, and she would immediately say something warm to a customer the moment he tried to get her attention.
"Have you heard anything yet?" asked Norman for the tenth time.
"Nothing yet," was always her reply. The workout had been over for hours, but she hadn't seen or heard a word from Dick.
About one a.m. he burst into the bar, dead drunk. He walked up behind Dolly and pinched her on the ass. Thinking it was a customer, she turned to slap him, but caught herself in time to pull her punch. "Come on, baby, let's blow this joint! We've got some celebrating to do!" Dick shouted.
Dolly let him to a table and pushed him into a chair. She sat down beside him. Her mood was very clinical. "Dick, I'm very happy you got what you wanted. Now, it's my turn. I want a divorce. By letting me know how badly you wanted to make the team, you caused me to lose all respect for you. I want out, and the sooner the better."
"Well that suits me just fine, Dolly wolly. Who wants to take sloppy seconds to a nigger anyway?"
"I don't want to make a scene."
"So who's making a scene? I'm just stating a fact. That black mother-fucker got my job and my woman. What am I supposed to do, like it?"
"But you said you were celebrating."
"Sure I'm cellar ... celery ... celebrating. I'm blowing this fucking town. Why shouldn't I be celerybrating?"
"What happened?"
"They like the coon's action, that's what."
"Where will you go."
"Down the road. I'll find something."
"I'll go with you."
"No you won't. Oh, you may be able to forgive me, but I couldn't forgive myself. You should have seen us out there. The blind leading the blind. That cocksucker was so bushed he had trouble walking."
"Then what went wrong?"
"I couldn't walk at all. I couldn't sleep last night, I was so excited about today. About three in the morning I get a knock at the door and there's this chick. I let her in and we balled all night." He staggered to his feet. "She's waiting for me outside, so I gotta go. When I sober up in the morning I'll cry like a baby, but no tears tonight. Take care of yourself."
"Do I know her?"
"Maybe. The name Helen Wilson mean anything to you: "No."
"Well, that's it. Wish me luck."
"No."
"Well, I do." He grabbed a drink. "Here's to me, everybody! Good luck, Dick Horton! You'll need it!" He downed the drink and staggered out.
Norman came to the table. "What happened?"
"He lost. I'll tell you about it when you're older."
"Come home with me?"
"Fuck you." She hurried up to the bar. "Double scotch."
Nick poured and she downed it. "All over between you two?"
"That's about the size of it."
"Dolly, I ... "
Johnny laughed. "Methinks the lady is uptight."
"And fuck you, you queer son of a bitch." She turned to the rest of the crowd. "And fuck you all! And to all a goodnight!" She grabbed a bottle and ran from the room.
Norman closed the joint slobbering all over Johnny. "Why won't she have anything to do with me?"
"She just doesn't dig you, man. When are you going to wise up to that?" , "But she does. I can tell. When a person gives you a blow job, you can tell how they feel about you by the way they do it."
Johnny, just this side of oblivion himself, started crying and put his arms around Norman, who let it pass. "Oh, you're right," he sobbed. "You're so right. I do love you, Norman."
"What does that have to do with Dolly?"
"She didn't eat you that night. I did."
Norman excused himself to go to the head. Most men Norman's size could not have gotten out the little window in the John, but he did and never came back.