Chapter 9

"The Regretful Rose" took off like a rocket.

The day after the "More at Four" interview, every store in New York City was sold out of the book. The reorders poured in. Within a week, Forest Press went into another printing and then a third. Word began to spread and I knew we were home when I got a request for Jenny to be interviewed on "Morning Mainline." This would mean national exposure; so even though they specified that Jenny could not read any poems on the air, I jumped at it. For one thing, I didn't see how they could stop her; and even if she didn't, the general nature of the book would get across. That, I knew, would be enough. I sat back happily and waited for the royalty checks to start flowing in.

My joy was not unalloyed, however; I also got a call from Irving.

"Good move, Bernie," he told me. "Having that weird broad read her hot stuff on TV like that."

"Thank you, Irving. I'm flattered that you approve."

"I do," Irving said. "Now how about doing something like that for my book?"

I sighed. "Irving," I said, "you are not Jenny. Weird, yes-but a broad, no."

"But ... "

"Besides, your book is by Peggy Ashe. Remember?"

"So put Peggy on a show. She's sexy. Then, when we've got a best seller, we can reveal the true author. They wouldn't do anything to us then-we'd be too successful! You see it, Bernie?"

"Forget it," I said. "First, Peggy's not bright enough to carry it off and second, that book is such a piece of garbage, Sophia Loren couldn't sell it if she went on naked. So goodbye, Irving."

"Damn it," Irving said, "I don't understand why you keep putting my book down like that. Can't you even begin to see the power, the depth, the ... "

"The crap and the bullshit," I said. "Irving, I'm busy."

"Come on, Bernie. You took the book on for agenting, so you must have thought it was ... "

I closed my eyes. "Irving. Please. A little respect for the facts here, okay? I took your horrible concoction only because I wanted to fuck your wife and for no other reason. As you damn well know."

"You want to fuck her again, Bernie? Is that it? You want another crack at Sylvia's crack, that's why you're holding out on doing anything for the book, right?"

"No, Irving ... "

"Listen, it can be arranged, Bernie. See, I'm not like you, Bernie, I'm not so insanely jealous that I begrudge my own brother a little fun with my wife. If that's what you want, I'll ... "

"Irving, for God's sake! That's not-Oh, what's the use." Why was I arguing with this maniac? At least I had one client who was sane-relatively, anyway-and successful. "Don't bother me anymore, Irving. I'm busy thinking about getting rich."

"But ... "

"I'm hanging up now, Irving," I said and I did.

But that wasn't the end of it. Later that same afternoon, Peggy buzzed me to tell me that Mrs. Culligan was here to see me. Thinking it was Amy, I said to send her right in. But it wasn't Amy; it was Sylvia.

She was wearing a snugly-fitting blue sweater and an even more snugly-fitting pair of slacks. My throat tightened as I took in that alluring figure. Sylvia always had that effect on me. I used to look at her and go crazy imagining what she was like naked. Now I recalled what she was like naked. I remembered extremely well. It didn't make me feel any better.

"Hi, Sylvia," I greeted her. "Nice to see you get loose."

She didn't smile. In fact, she looked quite tragic. Except for her eyes, which had something in them that I thought I remembered.

"All right, Bernie," she said. "You've got me here. Now what do I have to do?"

I blinked. "What are you talking about?" I asked.

"You don't have to beat around the bush, Bernie. Irving told me the setup quite clearly. I know that to get you to advance my husband's career, I have to pay for it with my body. I've come to submit myself to your every whim."

"Now wait a minute ... "

"I know I'll be forced to degrade myself," Sylvia said. "That's what you want, isn't it, Bernie? To have me debase myself before you. To make me crawl and grovel at your feet. To use me as a receptacle for your animal lusts ... "

"Hold it!" I yelled. Then I took a deep breath. "Look, Sylvia, I don't know what kind of game you're playing now, but I made it quite clear to Irving-if anything can be made clear to Irving-that I didn't ... " A thought struck me. "Wait a minute. Is Irving with you? Like last time? Is he hiding out there someplace? Because I'm going to ... "

"No," Sylvia said. "Irving's not here, Bernie. He sent me to face my ordeal alone. A sacrificial offering."

"Oh, for God's sake," I said disgustedly. "Sylvia, look-you're a hell of a sexy lady and a damn good lay, but you're nearly as balmy as your husband and that's pretty serious. Now I really don't want to get involved in this nuttiness and I'm certainly not making any deals with Irving. So why don't we just forget about this and go have a drink or something, okay?"

"I suppose the first thing you'll make me do," Sylvia said, "is take off my clothes."

The thought sent a little tingle through me, but I fought it down. "Please, Sylvia. I don't want you to do anything. Go home to Irving, all right?"

"Very well, Bernie," Sylvia said. "I have no choice." And crossing her arms in front of her, she took hold of the bottom of her sweater and pulled it upward. All the way up and over her head and off. She dropped it on the floor.

Naturally she wasn't wearing a bra. Naturally I stared at her breasts. What else could I do? As I felt my cock stiffen, I realized that the only time I had seen those tits naked before, she had been lying down. They looked different now. Not better, necessarily, but certainly not worse. Fuller. Bouncier. The nipples sticking out and up. Obviously, she was turned on by the little drama she was playing out.

After letting me look for several long moments, Sylvia brought her hands up to cover her breasts in a gesture of phony modesty. But then, with a tiny sigh, she let them fall again. "What's the use?" she said tragically. "I know you won't allow me any dignity. You enjoy shaming me like this."

I took another deep breath, struggling with myself. I had to be strong, or else I knew I would have trouble with Irving, who would insist we had made a deal of some kind. I gritted my teeth.

"Sylvia," I growled. "You came here to do what I want, right? Okay, I'm giving you an order. You understand? An order."

"You have complete power over me," Sylvia said. "I must obey your every despicable command."

"Good. I want you to pick up your sweater and put it on. And then get the hell out of here. Is that clear enough?"

"I thought so," Sylvia said. "You have no pity. You force me to disrobe completely before you." She opened a button at the front of her slacks.

"Stop," I said desperately. "Damn it, stop. Please stop. For God's sake, stop."

Sylvia pushed her slacks down.

This was getting very interesting to watch. The slacks were so tight that she had to work them down gradually over her lusciously-curved hips, pulling first at one side, then the other, gaining about an inch with each tug. This made her breasts shake and quiver and bump each other in a fascinating manner. I felt my hard-on getting stronger as my resistance got weaker. I thought of getting up and walking out. I thought of it. Fleetingly.

"Sylvia," I said. My voice was not completely steady. "I make no deals, you understand? No deals."

The slacks fell. Sylvia kicked off her highheeled shoes and stepped out of them and the slacks together. She wore only panties. Thin ones. Her legs were bare. I looked at them. Not fleetingly. I think I gulped.

"Oh, God, Bernie," Sylvia said, sounding as though she was about to cry. "Will you leave me no last shred of modesty? Must I strip myself utterly naked?"

"No deals," I said weakly.

"You beast," Sylvia quavered and took off her panties.

Somehow I summoned up a last tattered remnant of strength. I buzzed Peggy on the intercom. "Get my brother on the phone," I told her. "And hurry!"

"My God, Bernie," Sylvia said. "Will you take pleasure in gloating to my poor husband over the shameful position you have me in?"

In a minute I had Irving on the line. "Listen," I said, "your crazy wife is here, as you probably know. Now we made no deals, Irving. I didn't agree to a damn thing and I don't intend to. No matter what Sylvia does. Period. Is that absolutely clear to you, Irving?"

Irving sighed. "Well, it was worth a try, Bernie. I thought you enjoyed screwing Sylvia."

"I did. I do. I would," I said. "But not under these conditions. Now you better call her off, Irving. She's standing here stark-naked and I don't know what to do with her. I mean-well, you know what I mean. I'll put her on."

"Sorry, Bernie," Irving said. "I can't help you. When Sylvia wants something badly enough, even I can't control her. You're on your own." And he hung up.

"And now," Sylvia said, "I suppose you'll make me get down on my knees. And crawl."

"Oh Lord," I groaned. But before I could think of what to do now, the door to the outer office opened and Peggy came in.

"Bernie," she began, "it's five o'clock and I'm ... " She stopped short when she saw Sylvia. Her eyes went wide.

"Peggy," I said weakly. "For God's sake. What do you think we got this nice new intercom system for?"

"I-I'm sorry, Bernie," Peggy said. "I didn't realize you were ... busy."

"It's all right," I said. "As a matter-of-fact, Mrs. Culligan is just leaving."

"I see," Sylvia said. "It's not enough for you simply to humiliate me and force me to your will. You're going to make me perform these vile acts in front of a stranger."

Peggy looked interested. "Look," I said. "It's not ... "

"What next?" Sylvia asked, her voice trembling. "Will you call in all your friends and have me degrade myself with them, too?"

"What's going on?" Peggy asked.

"It's hard to explain," I said.

"All right," Sylvia said, whimpering now. "You don't have to hit me anymore. I'll do anything you say." She got down on her knees.

"Jesus," Peggy said. "This chick is out of her tree."

Sylvia went on all fours and began to move toward me across the floor. "Making me crawl to you on my hands and knees like an animal," she said breathlessly. "Naked. In front of a witness. How horribly degrading." She reached my chair and stopped in front of me. "Must I kiss your feet, too?" she said. And she did. My shoes, anyway.

"Sylvia," I said huskily, "I'm telling you for the last time ... " I broke off when she knelt upright and put her hands on my legs. She pushed them apart so she could move between them. I did not resist. "The hell with it," I said, "I'm not fighting it anymore. Do whatever you want."

Her hands slid up my legs. One felt my hard-on through my pants while the other found my zipper. "I'm forcing myself to do this," she breathed. "I know you'll tie me down and whip me if I don't. And maybe even if I do."

"No such luck," I said. She was pulling my zipper down. Peggy moved in to get a closer look.

"Peggy," I said unsteadily, "maybe you'd better go now."

"No way!" Peggy said.

I didn't feel able to argue the matter just then, because Sylvia was pulling my porker out of my pants. It stood up stiff and throbbing.

"How disgusting!" Sylvia declaimed. "And you're going to force me to take that loathe-something into my mouth? And-and ... Oh please ... please don't make me ... "

I didn't say anything. I had stopped fighting her, but I was damned if I was going to participate in her weird scene. Even though, at that point, I was hoping to hell she wouldn't stop.

"Oh ... " she said in a hopeless tone. "Oh you vile, perverted monster!" And then she lowered her head and took me into her oral cavern.

"Oh my God," I said. And then I said, "Oh, Jesus." I might have thrown in Buddha and Mohammed, too. I was having a very ecumenical experience. Sylvia's mouth and tongue could convert an atheist. There had to be a God to have created pleasure like that.

Sylvia's head moved up and down. Slowly. I began to gasp. "Oh ... oh, yeah ... " I heard myself pant. "Oh Sylvia ... oh you sweet little ... oh shit ... "

Peggy was watching avidly. "She looks good," my secretary observed. "Is she as good as I am?"

"Damn," I said, squirming as Sylvia's wicked oral digit traced a vein. "I ... I don't know ... How do you compare ... Michelangelo and ... and Rembrandt?"

"Who are they!" Peggy inquired, as I should have expected.

"Ahh," I answered brightly. "Ahhh ... oh, ahh ... oh yes ... oh God yes ... Sylvia ... oh Christ!" I was twisting in my chair now, gripping the arms for dear life. I felt as though I might take off any second and fly up to the ceiling. Sylvia was putting everything she had into this blowjob and I knew I wasn't going to stop myself from coming right down her talented throat.

She moved faster. The room began to spin around. I saw Peggy revolving with everything else, her eyes bright, her hands gently squeezing her own delicious boobs as she watched.

Then I didn't see anything but comets and rockets and shooting stars. My head fell back and I arched my bottom clear off the chair, shoving my prick hard into Sylvia's devouring mouth. I made some loud noises which I will not attempt to reproduce and then I was spurting hard, my hips jerking uncontrollably as I emptied myself into her gullet while her lips sucked and pulled at me and her tongue caressed me encouragingly with each spasm. She swallowed all of my spunk, moaning with greedy satisfaction.

Slowly I came back to earth. I sat panting and blinking stupidly until the office had slowed down a bit. Sylvia was looking up at me from her kneeling position. Her nipp'es were harder than ever.

"Oh, how could you force me to perform such a horrible, wicked act?" Sylvia moaned. "And what in the world are you going to make me do next?"

"Next?" I said dully.

Sylvia's eyes widened. "Oh, no ... " she gasped. "You wouldn't ... you can't want me to ... to do that ... "

My eyes closed. "Do what?" I croaked.

"Do ... do perverted things with ... with this woman," Sylvia said.

My eyes opened.

"Hey!" Peggy said. "That's a great idea!"

"Oh, you filth!" Sylvia said and she cried out a sob. "Is there no depth to which you won't sink to get your twisted kicks?"

"Shit," I said.

With a pathetic whimper Sylvia turned away and began to move on her knees, to where Peggy was standing beside the desk. Peggy didn't waste any time; she had her panties off and her skirt up around her waist before Sylvia even got there. She leaned back against the desk and planted her feet wide apart. Sylvia moved close to her and with another dramatic sob, buried her face between Peggy's beautiful thighs.

Peggy hissed sharply and dug her hands into Sylvia's hair, guiding her head where she wanted it. But Sylvia didn't seem to need much guidance. Peggy began to squirm and moan and I got the definite impression that Sylvia's wondrous mouth was giving her as much pleasure as it had given me.

Keeping one hand clutched in Sylvia's hair, Peggy raised the other to the buttons of her blouse, unbuttoning a few so she could slip her hand inside and fondle her breast while the kneeling woman continued her expert cunnilingus. I watched all this with a fair amount of objectivity at first; but after a bit I felt the old cock perking up again. It was a pretty erotic sight, after all. The naked woman was kneeling before the half-naked one, her face in the other's crotch. Both of them were moaning now and Peggy was writhing and gasping and twisting her own titties.

by the time Peggy cried out her climax, her violently-jerking body bent forward over Sylvia's still-working head, my prick was in full bloom again. Feeling a little foolish, I stuffed it back inside my trousers and zipped up. Which didn't seem to discourage my organ one bit.

"Ohh ... " Peggy panted, slumping weakly against the desk as she released Sylvia's head. "Oh, that was ... lovely ... " Then Peggy said, "Lie down, Honey-I'll do you now, okay?"

"Oh, no," Sylvia said bitterly. "Bernie doesn't want me to get any pleasure. Only shame and humiliation, that's what he wants to see. Now he's going to tie me down on his desk and ... and ... "

"Forget it," I said.

Sylvia rose to her feet. Her face was wet with sweat, saliva and pussy juice, which somehow made her look even sexier. She walked around to the front of the desk and then bent forward over it, her upper body resting on the desk top, her sweet round ass sticking up and out. It was a big desk and she spread her arms across it toward the far corners, flattening her breasts against its surface and stretching herself as if she were indeed tied in that position. Then she spread her legs apart, standing as though her ankles were bound to the legs of the desk.

"Now I'm helpless," Sylvia said. "You'll be able to whip me until I scream. There's nothing I can do about it."

Peggy was pulling her panties back on and stifling a giggle.

"And then," Sylvia went on, "I suppose you'll take me from behind like this, while I struggle frantically in my bonds."

I wasn't interested in the tying-and-whipping part, but those curvy, jutting ass cheeks were certainly tempting. My cock wanted to slip snugly between them and bury itself in her tight little asshole. My head, on the other hand, told me to get the hell out of there already.

Guess who won?