Chapter 4
A DELICATE HAND REACHED INSIDE MY PAJAMAS
You aren't going to believe this, I know but I spent a delightful weekend with Mrs. K-and her husband. We never left the apartment, and once Mr. K-sobered up, he was charming and hospitable, always making sure I had a fresh drink. He couldn't have been nicer. Mrs. K-was the one who seemed annoyed by his presence, although she made no comment about it.
I went to bed with Mrs. K-in her bedroom, and Mr. K-slept in the guest room. Twice during that Friday night, Mrs. K-and I made it, except I was a bit edgy about the situation that first night. I surmised that Mr. K-must be a voyeur like Henry, and any moment I expected him to waltz into his wife's bedroom pull up a chair and watch me in action. But this never happened, not quite like that anyway.
Mr. K's first name was Corey. That was his nickname. Mrs. K's nickname was Jeri, probably short for Geraldine. All day Saturday and Saturday night, Corey never once intruded on our love-making, and he never ceased to be cordial. In fact, he seemed more delighted I was there than Jeri, who seemed to get a little bored with me after the second day. She was that kind of a broad. Once she got a bellyful, she lost interest and reverted back to the self-centered bitch she really was.
Sunday morning before breakfast, Corey invited me to join him on the terrace for Bloody Marys. This was before Jeri got up. She was a late sleeper, the kind of woman who really doesn't start clicking until about four or five o'clock in the afternoon. That Sunday morning and afternoon, I spent most of the day talking to Corey. He was a helluva nice guy when he was sober.
"I think you've finally managed to wear Jeri out," he commented. "I'm sorry," I said.
"No, my boy, that's good. She's needed somebody like you for a long time. She's a very high-strung, emotional woman, as you have no doubt discovered. It's impossible for me to meet Jeri's physical demands."
"She's some woman," I offered, for the want of something better to say.
"We're both very delighted to have you here," Corey returned. "I hope we don't lose track of you."
Inasmuch as he was laying it right on the line, I took the liberty to ask him a question that had been puzzling me. "Tell me, sir, if I'm getting too personal, but are you and your wife happily married?"
Corey smiled. "What's your opinion?"
"I don't know. You're both so charming to each other, it's confusing."
"We're both trapped," Corey went on to explain. "I'm in public office and we can't get a divorce until I retire which won't be for quite a few years yet. Jeri and I try to make the best of a bad deal. We have a house in the suburbs, where I live most of the time. Jeri has this apartment to come to for her little escapades. Sometimes we get on each others nerves and have violent arguments ... like the other night. We were both drunk. Jeri said some pretty rotten things to me, and then went to the phone to call a friend. I got mad and ripped out the phone. You see we can't afford to let any of our friends in on our situation."
"I see," I uttered. "Well, that helps a lot. Thanks for explaining it to me."
"You're involved now," Corey reminded me. "You have a right to know."
"Has Jeri ever threatened to leave you?" I asked.
Corey started laughing. "She does regularly about once a month ... but she never will. I make too much money. When she was in show business, she never had all she has now. And like any woman, she enjoys the role of being married to an imporatant public figure."
I was dying to ask Corey what he did, but he never said and I never dared to ask. To this day, I honestly don't know what he does. His public life couldn't have been very public, because I never saw anything in the papers about him.
"I suppose things might be different, if we had a child. We both wanted one, but it never happened. Now it's too late."
"Oh, I don't know. They have so many aids for that sort of thing now."
"Jeri's all right. She's still young enough. I'm the one that's burned out," he admitted. "Although having a young stud like you around has psychologically had a lifting affect on me. I felt somewhat recharged this morning."
"I'm glad."
Maybe you could be of help, my boy."
How's that?" I said, and braced myself by gulping nervously at my Bloody Mary.
"No, forget it," he returned. "It wouldn't work. Jeri, I'm sure, wouldn't go for the idea."
With that the subject dropped and turned to other matters. But later on in the day, after Jeri got up and started clicking during the cocktail hour, Corey was involved in several private discussions with his wife that I was excluded from. I began to feel uneasy again. No telling what these two might be cooking up. Just before we sat down to dinner that evening, Corey took me to one side.
"Jeri has a proposal to make to you, my boy," he said quite patronizingly.
"What's that?"
"She'll tell you herself ... after dinner. I would appreciate it if you would consider it. It might make a great difference between us."
All through dinner, weird thoughts and ideas kept racing through my mind. It had been a long and exhausting weekend. Monday morning I had to be on the job early, so I decided to excuse myself right after dinner and get the hell out of there. I planned to make my farewell known during an after dinner brandy, but before I got to it, Jeri tugged at my arm and pulled me off into the bedroom.
"Corey wants to sit in with us while you make love to me," she announced. "Would you mind terribly?"
"Well, I ... I don't know. How do you feel about it, Jeri?"
"I don't care. I do feel sorry for him. He said it might help to get him worked up, if he watched you in action. You can be "sure, Archer, if you agree, he'll pay you handsomely for the privilege."
That did it. I saw those dollar signs and readily agreed. After all, I had nothing to lose. I had already discovered that I didn't get inhibited with somebody watching.
"When does he want us to do this for him?" I asked.
"As soon as possible," was her answer. "Before he has too much to drink and before it gets too late."
Forty-five minutes later found the three of us stark naked together on Jeri's bed, with all the lights turned on for Corey to observe all that we did. Having an audience somehow turned us on. Jeri got hotter than the Chicago fire and I plowed into her with the renewed energy and enthusiasm. Corey lay on the bed, his head resting near our hips. In this position he could observe everything we did in close detail.
While I pounded away at my task, counting the dollars with every thrust into Jeri, I glanced over at Corey. He had a pleased, satisfied expression on his rounded, aging face. He was sweating almost as bodly as I was, and his eyes were glistening with untrammeled lust. He had his hand between his legs and was fondling himself. In so doing, he had managed to get an erection.
"How are you doing?" he whispered to me.
"Okay," I grunted between breaths. "I think we're going to climax any moment."
"I'm almost at that point too," he announced. "When you think you're ready, my boy, pull out as quickly as you can."
So that was the deal. I didn't know whether I could. Generally as I gain momentum, I can't stop. I was gasping now. Jeri was moaning from the pleasurable agony, and had her nails dug deep into the flesh on my back.
"I don't know, if I can," I choked out to Corey. "What's it worth, if I can?"
"Name your price," he said strained and eager.
Just before I was ready to explode into a thousand pieces, I pulled out as quickly as I could and rolled off of Jeri. The abruptness of my withdrawal forced Jeri to gasp. Her husband took my place and brought his wife to a cilmax, while I played the cast-off lover, erupting all over the satin sheets with my uncontrollable, throbbing weapon in my hand.
Degrading? Of course it was. I felt like a useless piece of machinery that had just gone on the fritz. But compensated I was. When I walked out of that apartment that evening with a check for five hundred bucks in my pocket, I didn't feel to degraded anymore. My bank balance was growing and that gave me a great sense of independence.
There was another unusual experience I had while on the job as a phone installer. Financially, it paid off even better, although emotionally it was shattering, and physically, forget about it, Charlie. It was almost my undoing, putting me in the hospital for several weeks. Nevertheless, I think you might get a kick out of hearing about it.
It was my first call out, early one Wednesday morning. It was a new installation, which meant a new apartment with the customer just moving in. This also meant unsettled conditions and confusion. Sometimes it was a bare apartment with the paint still wet on the walls, the furniture being moved in, or no furniture at all. No bed or sofa spelled out the dim possibility of a prospect.
The prospect was indeed dim: a newly wed couple in an empty apartment with one lousey trunk, a few suitcases and a donated mattress on the floor in the bedroom. Can you imagine anything duller than that. Newly weds! Ugh! They turn me off.
The young bleary-eyed bridegroom answered the door barefoot with only a new satin dressing gown, obviously a wedding gift, draped over his nakedness. It was eight in the morning. Apparently he had had a hard night.
"Yeah," he mumbled.
"Phone company," I announced cheerfully.
"Oh ... oh, we're not up yet."
"If I don't install the phone now, I won't be able to come back until tomorrow."
"You better do it now," he decided. "Come on in."
He opened the door wide and allowed me to enter the vacant living room. As I did so, I stumbled over an empty champagne bottle sitting in the middle of the floor.
"We just moved in," he explained unnecessarily. "Last night was our honeymoon night."
"Congratulations," I said, my tone business-like and unfeeling. "Where would you like the phone?"
"Oh, gee, I don't know. My wife should decide that, but she's still sleeping. I hate to disturb her. We were up until about five this morning."
"You must be dead," I commented. "I am. Where do you suggest we put the phone?"
"If you're not having an extension in the bedroom, the most convenient place would be in the hallway, between the bedroom and the living room."
"Makes sense. Why don't you put it there ... in the hallway."
"Okay." I crossed to the hallway with my tool kit, opened it and prepared to drill a hole in the base-board.
"Try to keep the noise down, huh!" the stupid jerk cautioned. "My wife's in the bedroom."
"Sure ... sure."
The young groom staggered into the small kitchen and returned a moment later. "Hey, Joe, would you like a cup of coffee. It's instant."
This broke me up. Getting the coffee routine from a newlywed husband in a bathrobe was a new one. Of course, he meant it sincerely, not realizing the insinuation implied something amusing. I apologized for laughing and told him that I'd like a cup of instant coffee very much. I know he was puzzled, but he said nothing and disappeared back into the kitchen. I heard him turning on the faucet and filling a pan, but I didn't hear him turn off the faucet. The water continued running. This was followed by some spasmodic pounding and then he reappeared, more puzzled than ever.
"I can't turn off the tap," he informed me. "Do you know anything about plumbing?"
Admitting that I knew enough to turn faucets on and off, I agreed to take a look at it. I went into the kitchen and discovered for myself that it was impossible to turn off the faucet. I deduced that it was simply a matter of a new washer.
"Do you have a washer?"
"We don't have anything. We just moved in."
"So you told me. Well, if you run down to the hardware store to get one, I can fix it. I have the tools necessary. Just get a washer."
"Okay," he agreed. "I'll have to get dressed."
"If you could do it quickly," I said, "it would help. I've got a full day of installations to make. In the meantime, I'll see about shutting off the main water valve."
"I think it's under the sink." He started to leave the kitchen, then turned back. "I'll pay you for this, of course."
"Of course," I confirmed.
While he went into the bathroom to get dressed, I boiled the water and made myself a cup of instant coffee. He returned quickly to announce that he would be right back and that he would pick up some groceries while he was at it.
"I trust you'd like some breakfast," he added.
"Yes, I could eat something." Once again he started out and this time I stopped him. "Oh, wait a minute. Do you have something I could put on ... something you don't mind getting wet? I may have to drain the pipe."
He hesitated, then announced he had just the thing. He ran into the bathroom and returned a second later with his pajamas. "Do you mind wearing my pajamas?"
"Not if you don't. Where can I change?"
"In here's okay."
I shrugged. If the young husband was not concerned about me removing my clothes in the kitchen, I wasn't going to worry about it. What a jerk! Leaving a stranger in the apartment with a new wife asleep in the bedroom, is taking a chance you must admit. As soon as I heard the front door close and I knew that he had left, I removed my jacket and T-shirt, then slipped out of my levis. I have explained before that I never wear jockey shorts on the job. So there I was for less than a minute stark naked in the kitchen. I thought about the young wife in the bedroom waking up and coming out to find a naked stranger in her kitchen.
That would have been a crazy situation. I also thought about wandering into the bedroom and having a peek at the wife. The husband would be gone for at least fifteen or twenty minutes. Those were dangerous thoughts, I told myself, and I immediately dismissed them. If the young wife panicked, It would not only cost me my job, but it could mean a jail sentence. I was curious, however, to see what kind of a girl that jerk of a husband had married.
Quickly, I changed into the husband's pajamas, grabbed the pliers out of my tool kit and crawled under the sink. The sooner I got involved in a job, the sooner I would forget about the wild potential the situation offered. Just thinking about it made me horny.
The sink was enclosed in a cabinet, hiding the pipes and the central water valve. The previous tenant had undoubtedly had trouble with the sink, because I found a bucket underneath a leaky pipe. I shut off the main valve, and it was while I was in the process of opening the pipe to drain the water that I thought I heard somebody enter the kitchen. I thought about the wife and for a second my heart jumped into my mouth. Any moment, I told myself, she would start screaming bloody murder. Mind you I was concealed from the waist up inside the cabinet under the sink. I was flat on my back with only my sprawling legs protruding over the kitchen floor. In order to see who was in the kitchen, I would have had to crawl out from under the sink. When I didn't hear any reaction to my presence, I surmised that the husband had returned. I went on with my work, remaining under the sink until the pipe was drained. I heard continuous movement in the kitchen, but I disregarded it. It had to be the husband. Then it happened!
Without any warning I felt myself being groped. A delicate hand was reaching into the pajamas I wore and fondling my penis. I became paralyzed and speechless. It couldn't be the husband, I reasoned. It just couldn't be. It had to be the wife. As I explained, I was horny to begin with that morning, and when the hand tugged at my joint and pulled it outside of the pajama bottoms, I immediately got an erection.
Then I heard a soft feminine voice purr, "Oh, Melvin, you should have left the lights on last night and let me see." There was a sigh, then the voice added, "I'll fix you."
The next moment I felt a tremendous resurgence of power, as warm lips enveloped the head of my joint. Lust surged through me like a white-hot flame. I felt the weight of a bobbing head and grabbed the leaking pipe to steady myself. I wanted to say, "I'm not your husband," but the words would not come out. I was over powered by the draining, pulling sensation. My heart must have been pounding like a pneumatic drill. I kept telling Thyself, "Let her continue for a few seconds longer, and then announce yourself." But the seconds stretched out into minutes, and I felt myself reaching an explosive peak.
Those warm hungry lips took more and more, devouring every inch, then I felt my thing being sucked down a gullet. It was like being drawn into a whirlpool. The drawing sensation is almost unbearable. I reared up and cracked my skull on the bottom of the sink. I felt myself growing dizzy, I groaned and then blacked out .
That's all I remember actually. When I regained consciousness, I was in the hospital and a doctor and nurse were hovering over me.
"He's coming around," the doctor announced.
"Oh, thank God," a young woman's sobbing voice stated. I turned my head to one side and when my eyes came into focus I saw the bridegroom and his tearful, almost hysterical wife looking on with grave concern.
"What happened?" I groaned.
"Just lie still," the doctor ordered. "Don't try to talk now. You've had a head concussion, but you'll be all right."
The young wife broke down, sobbing with relief. "I thought we might have killed him," she cried.
She was immediately ushered out of the private room by the nurse. The husband remained to talk to the doctor.
"Give him whatever he needs," I heard him say to the doctor. "I don't care what it costs."
Then I passed out again.
Early that evening, when I was fully conscious and able to talk, the young husband returned, and explained what had happened.
When I hit my head on the sink and blacked out, Melvin's wife tugged at my legs and managed to pull me out from under the sink. When she discovered that I was not her husband, she fainted, her body collapsing over mine. In her effort to get me out from under the sink, she had pulled at my legs with such force she had also pulled off the pajama bottoms. Melvin returned and found us in that state-me naked from the waist down and his wife sprawled over me, both of us unconscious.
Melvin concluded that I had attempted to rape his wife, that there had been a struggle and we had both been thrown to the kitchen floor and knocked out. I started to rally before his wife and in a state of confused panic, Melvin struck me over the head with a frying pan, which is what caused the concussion. Later, when Melvin's wife came to, and explained what had happened as best she could, Melvin called an ambulance and rushed me to the hospital.
"I can't tell you how sorry we are," Melvin offered. "I just hope we can keep the police out of it. Sally and I wouldn't want her parents to know anything about this. Poor kid, she feels terrible over what happened."
I placed a hand on my bandaged head and said, "She's not alone. How do you suppose I feel?"
"Please, don't concern yourself about the hospital expenses. I'll take care of everything," Melvin assured me.
"A big help that is," I replied. "I work for the phone company. I have complete hospitalization. What worries me is how long am I going to be laid up here. How many weeks am I going to be knocked out of work."
"I'll make some kind of restitution, I promise," Melvin said. "Whatever you think is fair, just so long as we can keep this unfortunate mishap to ourselves."
Melvin had an automobile dealership and was financially well-heeled. So for a crack on the head and a delightful sexual interlude, I got a thousand dollars in cash and the gift of a new automobile. My stay in the hospital also had its compensations. Within a couple of days I was feeling myself again, and managed to charm three lovely private nurses into servicing me on three separate shifts, morning, afternoon and evening.
The all night shift was the wildest. She was a pretty little Puerto Rican girl whose name was Merriam.