Chapter 6
A WARM NEIGHBOR....
Carl Jordan read the memo a second time just to be sure he had read it correctly the first time around. He had. It wasn't just tough, it was offensive. Carl did the only thing that seemed appropriate under the circumstances; he crumpled it into a ball and threw it into the waste basket.
It was obvious that someone was tearing a strip off Bob Smelton because his department wasn't bringing in enough money. That someone, he knew instinctively, had to be Darcy Sinclair.
Now there, Carl thought, is a pair that deserves each other. Of the two, he credited Sinclair with an edge of intelligence and social grace. Beyond that, he wouldn't trust either with his wife, his wallet or his cat.
"What did you think of the memo from on high?"
He looked up to see Elaine standing in the doorway.
"I've already filed it." He nodded toward the metal basket at the end of his desk.
"I'm thinking of framing it." Elaine came in and took up her favorite perch on the corner of his desk.
She showed enough luscious thigh to be exciting, but Carl knew it wasn't a case of teasing. It was just that she was comfortable with him.
"After all," she went on without a trace of a smile, "Public Relations is supposed to be the art of influencing people. This could be considered a classic."
"Sure," Carl agreed, "like the Edsel and the New York Mets."
"Do you think he's cracking up?"
"He's on the way, I suppose," Carl answered seriously, "but I don't think it's imminent."
"I'm not sure I agree with you this time."
"Wait and see. I say he's been given the word, get hot or get out. He's climbed over enough falling bodies to know how it happens."
"But this is no way to do it," Elaine protested. "Even he should know that."
"He may or may not, but he happens to be a no talent fink. He knows he has to do something, but he doesn't know what or how. This idiot memo is the result."
"Perhaps," came the snarl from the doorway, "if you two would spend less time chatting and holding hands and a little more time working, I wouldn't have to send memos like that."
Carl didn't know how much of their conversation Bob had heard before he spoke, but he didn't give a damn either.
"Any time you're not satisfied with my work, Bob," Carl's voice was strong without being angry, "you know what to do."
"Come to think of it, Bob," Elaine cut in, "that goes for me as well."
"What do you intend doing about the memo?" Bob pressed on as if he hadn't heard their comments.
"What I intend doing I've done already," Carl replied as he looked up at the boss. "I've thrown it in the garbage where it belongs."
Conscious that her skirt had ridden up and that Bob was looking at her nylon tops, Elaine tugged it down and watched as the unwelcome visitor fought for control. It seemed to be a losing battle.
"You two seem to think it's smart as hell to make with the jokes about this business, but that isn't enough and isn't really very funny. How many new accounts have you brought in lately?"
"As I recall, Bob," Carl's tone was casual, "the last one for me was the Alloy account."
"Kidding again, are you? Or don't you remember that it got away from us. Sure, you thought you had it in the bag, but it didn't work out. Maybe they didn't like your brand of humor any more than I do."
"That account was in the bag, Bob, until you came on like a towel boy in a cat house and blew it. If you really want new business, stay in your office and play with yourself or whatever you do. Leave it to the people who know how to do it."
Carl knew he had gone too far, but there was too much anger in him to be contained. Bob Smelton really had blown the account and the embarassment was still strong inside. Carl didn't like embarrassment, especially when he didn't deserve it.
He and Elaine looked at each other as the man turned and walked away angrily.
"Come on," Carl said as he swung his chair around, "let's get out of here and find a drink."
He caught another glimpse of shapely thigh as Elaine hopped off the desk and hurried across the hall to her office. By the time he reached the door, she had picked up her purse and was waiting for him.
As they passed Mike Kalman's office, they heard Mike and Bob talking earnestly. They went on. Mike was one of the new men Bob had brought in. Like the rest of the new wave, he was young, inexperienced, loyal to the boss and a talker rather than a doer.
It wasn't that Mike was lazy, Carl and Elaine had agreed some time ago, he just didn't know what it was all about. Like Bob Smelton, he read all the books on P.R., but couldn't translate them into day to day reality of work.
"Do you think we're getting a going over?" Elaine asked with a smile as they reached the elevator.
"That seems like a pretty reasonable guess. In fact, you just won yourself a drink."
He didn't intend paying off on the drink right away though. Instead, they walked five blocks and passed two or three places that were hangouts of advertising and public relations types. It was important to escape from the whole atmosphere of it.
"It looks like you may start writing that novel sooner than you planned, Carl," she said over their first drink.
"Do you really think he'd do it?"
"It would be the act of a fool or a desperate man under pressure. Does that answer your question?"
The subject was enough to sustain them through two drinks. Carl changed the subject then.
"This is short notice, Elaine, but if you don't have any plans, let's keep going." He held up his glass to indicate his intentions.
"I haven't any plans I can't change with one phone call."
From the change on the table at his elbow he flicked a dime toward her. As she got up to make the call, Carl stood and drew her chair back. It was one of the little things about him she liked.
Elaine returned in five minutes. Carl left the change on the table and they walked out. She slipped her arm into his and it felt good.
"Where now, oh-soon-to-be-unemployed?" she asked.
"To where the food is, smart ass. The cardinal rule of happy drinking is to keep lots of food under the belt at all times."
As if it were a celebration, they began with another drink, progressed to Alaska King Crab with a carafe of chilled white wine, then on to thick, rare steaks with a bottle of vintage '63 Bouchard rouge.
When the dessert menu arrived, they agreed that they had already taken on enough food to serve as a base for all the drinking they could possibly do in one evening.
Their next stop took them to a smaller, quieter place where the liquor was good and the music subdued. They sat close and Carl felt the warm nearness of her.
Not knowing whether it was the drinks or his own need of her, Carl felt desire grow to the point where he feared it was showing.
He was usually sure of himself, but he knew this time he was fumbling as he manufactured an excuse to take her home. He heard himself apologizing and mumbling words about being more upset than he thought.
If Elaine was hurt, she didn't let it show. Instead, she smiled, squeezed his hand and they left. Inside the lobby of her apartment building, Carl apologized again and walked away.
Elaine knew he was upset all right, but she knew too that it had nothing to do with the office or with Bob Smelton. She did a lot of guessing at reasons involving her and hoped she was right.
Carl had been a good friend, the best she had ever known, but she knew now that she wanted more than that. Her hands squeezed into tight fists as she thought of how much she wanted him to take her to bed and make love to her.
Beyond that, she didn't think. Marriage could or could not be a factor. What she was experiencing was pure physical desire of woman for man.
Less than two miles away, desire was burning a big hole between Carl's loins. He couldn't recall having handled himself so badly on a date since he was a fumbling kid of nineteen who knew what he wanted but didn't know how to go about getting it.
He knew he had come close to pushing the friendship with Elaine all the way and, for the first time in years, he couldn't tell how the woman would respond.
He was remarkably successful in his relationships with women. Normally, on the first date he could tell whether or not she would be interested in going to bed. More than that, he guessed correctly more often than not how good she would be.
This time, his instincts deserted him completely. It was more than just desire though and Elaine was obviously more than just a friend.
He hesitated to use the word love, but he couldn't come up with anything better at the moment. Scolding himself that it was nothing more than a great desire for a piece of tail in spite of what he had been through the night before, Carl cursed himself for not having gone to her apartment with her and taken her to bed.
As he rode up on the elevator, he thought again of the long, shapely thighs. His palms began to sweat at the thought of how good it could be.
It was one of those coincidences when he saw Carole Denton getting out of the elevator across the hall. She lived on the same floor and made it known that she was a widow.
Once, on a whim, Carl had accepted an invitation to drop in for a drink. Over two drinks, she had made it very clear, stopping just short of saying it out loud, that she would love to make out with him.
He guessed her age at early forties and though there was a bit too much of her in every department, she was reasonably attractive woman.
The moment he spotted her wide smile of greeting, Carl knew what he was going to do about his condition.
"I owe you a couple of drinks, lady," he returned the smile as he spoke. "Care to visit my humble abode and collect?"
"I'd love to, but I do have to pop into my apartment first. Would it be all right if I dropped over in about ten or fifteen minutes?"
"Fine. Don't keep me waiting too long though or I may drain the supply before you arrive."
She disappeared into her apartment and Carl knew she wouldn't be long. He guessed she was cheering at the prospect of getting well laid and that she wanted the time to slip into fresh panties and perhaps get rid of an unattractive foundation garment. That suited him just fine.
Considering how much he'd had to drink already, Carl considered resisting the urge to have another. He thought again of who his partner was to be and decided another one was definitely called for.
Carole was going to be an instrument of therapy and nothing more. Even though he tried to make allowances for her, he couldn't. She was too anxious, too blatant about offering her body to a relative stranger.
Relative stranger hell, he thought, as he walked to the window with his drink. She'd offered it to a relative or to any other male with the male equipment in any stage of development.
Even when he told himself that he was being uncharitable, that she was a woman who saw the years passing without the comfort of regular sex, he couldn't make enough allowance for her.
Killing time, he sipped at the drink and looked out at the city, fourteen stories down. Normally, the view, especially at night, soothed him. Tonight, it was total failure.
Elaine was out there and she was beautiful and warm and probably more than willing and he had turned her clown and run away like a kid or a fool. She had smiled warmly as they said good night, but he wondered if she had been angry.
There was an intense look on her face, but he took it for one of concern. He wondered now whether it was that or whether perhaps, it was disgust or anger. One would be as bad as the other.
He heard the light tap on his door then and hurried to let her in. He didn't really care what the neighbors would think, but there was no point in entertaining them.
She had done a quick cosmetic job and had done it to such an extent that he couldn't be sure whether the smile she flashed was real or painted on.
As she walked into the room ahead of him, he noted that she had gotten out of the foundation garment she had worn when he saw her in the hall.
If confirmation of her motives were needed, that was more than enough. His experience told him that when a woman makes the sacrifice to vanity of taking off her foundation, she does it for the sake of simplicity of getting undressed to hop into bed.
Remembering that he had invited her for just that purpose, he decided not to knock it. She welcomed the idea of a scotch and soda, so he poured hers and refilled his own.
Two minutes later, they were sitting on the couch and his arm slipped around her. She responded by sighing like a nervous teenager and moving her too big body closer to him.
Putting his glass down on the table beside the couch, he cupped one full breast and gave it a few little squeezes.
"You work fast, Carl." It was the first time she had used his first name, but under the circumstances, that didn't seem unreasonable.
Projecting the thought in his mind, he formed a picture of their naked bodies threshing on the bed and her calling him Mister Jordan. He decided it wouldn't do at all.
He slid his other hand down her waist and gripped her thigh.
"Why not, Carole? After all, we're not kids. We know what we want and what to do about it, don't we?"By way of answer, she brought her moist lips up to his to be kissed. He kissed her. Within seconds, Carl saw that the tide had turned and she was really kissing him instead.
Her heavy breasts squashed against him and he knew that lying flat on her back, she was going to look like hell unless he could arrange to leave her bra on. That won't do, he decided, as the kiss continued. She could be sensitive about that.
While they continued the breathless kiss, he opened the buttons down the back of her dress and, after drawing it open, ran his hands over skin that wasn't too bad after all.
When she pulled her face away from his at last, Carole smiled as seductively as she could and pulled the top of her dress off her arms. The black satin bra jutted toward him and he realized he was about to see the biggest if not the best set of breasts ever.
The least he could do, he thought, was cup the heavy load in the bra. He did and found there was lots of room for his hands to rub.
Breathing heavily, she got to her feet and stood by the couch. Recognizing the signal to take her dress all the way off, he did so.
Under it, she wore matching black nylon panties that stretched to the breaking point to contain her belly and buttocks. Man, Carl thought as he explored the sweeping areas with his hands, this gal is going to have a lot of bounce anyway.
She parted her legs and Carl guessed what she wanted. Pretending to be wild with passion and finding enough of it to carry the day, he slid his hand between her thighs and rubbed along the narrow strip of nylon that hugged the bottom of her belly.
Carole was very warm and the way her body wriggled told him she was anxious to get on with it. Taking her hand, he walked her to the bedroom. He remembered that the sheets hadn't been changed since last night's bout, but that didn't bother him. It'll add flavor to things, he told himself.
While he wrestled with his shirt and tie, Carole busied herself by unzipping the front of his pants and reaching in to claim him. She obviously liked what she found.
Taking it out, she cooed with delight and, bending, took it into her mouth to bathe it. He hoped she wasn't expecting equal time.
They worked together at removing his pants and shorts, he kicked off his shoes and said to hell with his socks. A woman in her state, he knew, wasn't about to quibble over a little matter like a pair of socks. The part she was interested in was nicely uncovered except for the cover her hand was providing.
"You're nice and big and strong, Carl," she whispered excitedly.
"Then it's time to see what you have under there," he countered as he began to unfasten her bra.
The big hills tumbled out and although there was a bit more sag than he liked, they weren't bad at all. What they lacked in firmness, they more than made up in size.
Seeing the big nipples standing out like cigar butts, he rubbed them with finger and thumb and watched them grow even bigger.
As he bent his face over one of them, Carl discovered that the nipple alone consituted almost a mouthfull. Thinking of some of the women he knew who were so lacking in that area, he wondered a-bout the injustice of it all. It just didn't seem fair.
"Take my panties off, Carl darling," she whispered into his ear.
Carl made quite a production of slipping the taut nylon down very slowly and commenting favorably on what he saw as he unveiled her massive behind.
"Can't you just see yourself bouncing against that, darling?" she asked in the same excited tone.
"Sure thing, Carole." He patted the big cheeks as he helped her step out of the panties. "Do you like it from behind?"
"Oh yes," the massive breasts rose and fell wildly. "It gets in deeper that way. That's the way I like it best," she paused, "if you don't mind."
"What do you mean mind? I dig it that way myself."
Not only did Carl really dig it that way as a change of pace, but it also overcame the problem of looking at the big breasts lying flat and soft as she lay on her back.
Leaving her garter belt and nylons in place, Carl tumbled her to the bed and she became a tigress as she swarmed all over him and kept her body moving and rubbing without letup.
All that mattered was that it was working. Carl felt arousal building just as if she were one of his younger beauties, as if her body were slimmer and lush. He held her close and rubbed back.
"Oh ... oh ... Carl ... I'm going crazy ... I can't wait. Give it to me, baby, give it to me now."
She had parted her knees wide so that the area of her need gaped open and warm and moist. There was no need to prepare anything, Carl saw.
Kneeling behind her, he guided himself toward the yawning gap and pressed into her. He slid in easily and she cried out in passionate joy as she felt herself being filled by him.
"Oh darling," she panted as her buttocks continued to sway wildly. "I knew you were going to be good. I knew you were. Oooh ... oh . ... oh ... oooohhhh ... aaaah...."
He was all the way now and Carl felt the full, fleshy buttocks against his belly as he rubbed. Continuing to press against her, he reached under her belly and found the warm opening he was looking for.
Slipping one finger in, he probed until he found her clitoris. It was hard and expectant. At the risk of being clinical about it all, he thought of the millions of men who don't know that a woman too gets a hard on when properly aroused.
Still rubbing against the warm softness of her from behind, he continued to manipulate her with his finger until he felt her tense and knew what was going to happen. She cried out in joy as he brought her to climax, then stopped and waited for her to catch her breath again.
When she did, he took a firm grip with both hands and began to slam against her body, giving her what she wanted.
He felt himself getting in deep and understood why she liked it that way. Each time he slammed ahead, her fat buttocks provided a delightful fleshy cushion for his body.
Having brought her all the way once, he wasn't too concerned about holding back for her, but it didn't matter. After the session with Ingrid the night before, he didn't finish very fast anyway and she turned out to be one of those rare fast ones.
Just as he felt the first tensing announcing that he was ready to explode, she began to roar a-gain and he knew she was going over the edge for the second time.
Judging by her moans and the writhing of her behind against his belly, it was even better than the first one for her. She was still going through the last phases of it when he exploded.
Hugging her tightly and rubbing against her bottom, he felt himself bathing her deep insides. He knew she was feeling it all the way too as she continued to cry out in ecstasy.
As he withdrew from her, she collapsed onto the bed. Carl tottered to his feet and went in search of a couple of well earned drinks.
As he was pouring the drinks, he realized that it had been a failure. He had tried to bluff himself with just any woman who happened along and it wasn't working worth a damn.
Now it was worse. In addition to the haunting memory of Elaine, lovely, beautiful, warm Elaine, he had to face the presence of the fat woman who lay on the bed waiting for another round.
It was almost an hour before she believed that he was just too tired to continue from there and wanted to go to sleep.
He parried her suggestion that they do it regularly by suggesting that they were ships in the night. It was corny, he knew, but she bought it and that was all that mattered.
Carl fell into a drugged sleep as soon as she left. It wasn't the kind of sleep calculated to bring pleasant dreams.