Chapter 4
Joyce arrived at Reta's boutique a few minutes before time for their lunch date, saw Reta on the far side of the shop with a customer and waved.
They had become friends in high school, then roomed together in college, but that was so many years ago, it seemed like another life.
After they graduated, Reta came home and opened her speciality boutique, and Joyce married Carl. Reta had done much better with her life.
Reta had never married, and Joyce wondered why. Oh, there had been that one time when Reta made a pass at her, and she was pretty sure that Reta had brief affairs with a few of the more sexually liberated coeds at college. She also attended a few orgies masquerading as frat parties, where she got it on with other females. She probably still got it on with females, but that didn't mean she was a lesbian.
She was, in fact, one of the more popular coeds in college, and guys stood in line to date her. Everyone from the star jock to the class nerd, and she dated them all. An equal opportunity date, she jokingly called herself. She could have married any of them she chose, or someone from home. She was beautiful, elegant, charming and had enough class for any three women, and she still had her share of men, and they still stood in line for the privilege of taking her out.
Reta waved and came across the store as soon as the customer left, empty-handed, by the looks of it. "Hi, sweetheart," she said. "We can go as soon as rhy hired help gets back from her lunch."
"Looks like your last customer left without buying," Joyce said. "Does that happen often?"
"Oh, I relieved her of a pile of money, sweetheart," Reta laughed. "She bought so much, she couldn't carry it, so I'll have it delivered. Even if she hadn't bought, the next one would have." She grinned. "The mark-up on women's clothes is scandalous, and when you buy low and sell high, you have to do okay. When I opened the store, I tried to keep my prices competitive with department stores and nearly lost my ass. When I started charging what the boutiques in Santa Fe charge, business took off. Go figure. We've got a few minutes, want to try on some dresses? You need to spiff up your image."
"I'm working on it," Joyce said, "but to be honest, I can't afford your prices."
"You get it wholesale."
"Oh, I don't want to impose on our friendship, Reta," Joyce objected. "You have to make a living, too."
"Bullshit," Reta replied with a big grin, then licked her lips suggestively. "I'd pay a handsome sum just to see you naked again." She calculated Joyce's size and nodded. "I've got a whole rack of things that just came in that will be perfect for you." She led Joyce across the shop and selected several halter-top dresses in assorted colors. "Try these for starters. The dressing room is over there."
Joyce emerged from the dressing room a few minutes later, wearing bikini panties, garter belt, hose, and high heels and carrying the dresses draped over her arm. "They're too tight across the bust, Reta. The only way I can wear them is by pulling the top to the sides and exposing myself." She giggled. "I'd get arrested if I wore them that way."
"Yeah, some people are so narrow-minded," Reta said. "I think you look just fine in what you're wearing. Hmmm, I thought sure I had the right size. You're a little heavier on top these days, aren't you?"
"Yeah, by one cup size. I'm up to a dee cup now. My hips are a little bigger, too, but the way the skirt flares, you can't tell."
"Widowhood must agree with you," Reta quipped. She selected several dresses one size larger. "Here you go, these should fit."
Reta had never liked Carl and never kept her opinion of him to herself, and Joyce couldn't argue with her. When she came out of the dressing room again, she handed the dresses to Reta. "I'll take the white one," she said, handing over her credit card.
"The Marilyn Monroe look," Reta said.
"I'm not tall enough, or as heavy in the chest," Joyce laughed.
"No, but you're sexy enough," Reta said. She rangjip the sale and boxed the dress. "I'll have this delivered later today. If you're home, be careful. The delivery woman is an adorable little blonde gamin, but don't be fooled by her virtuous appearance. She's hotter than a two-dollar pistol and if you give her a chance, she'll deliver boxed goods that don't come from any store."
"Women aren't my style, Reta," Joyce said. "You know that, and you've never given up trying."
"And I never will, sweetheart! There are women and desirable women, and you're double desirable."
"You keep on, you're going to make me blush," Joyce said. Reta arched an eyebrow. "At your age? I doubt it, sweetheart. Don't you know that we lose the ability to blush as we grow older?"
"Don't remind me of my age," Joyce said.
The sales clerk came in, and Reta gave her the box with Joyce's dress in it. "Be sure this is delivered this afternoon. I'll be back in a couple of hours. I've got my cell phone, but don't call unless it's an emergency."
Reta and Joyce walked a few blocks down the street to a little Italian restaurant.
"I love these autumn afternoons," Joyce said. "Just think, back in the Midwest, the temperature is below freezing and there's snow all over the place. It's almost warm enough to go swimming."
"How about a cocktail?"
"Oh, I don't know," Joyce said, "I usually drink wine, if I drink at all."
"We'll have wine with lunch. Can't eat pasta without wine." Reta signaled the waiter. "Bring us two of those great big, extra dry martinis." She said to Joyce, "They're almost big enough to swim in."
"Are you trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me?" She meant it as an innocent quip, but the moment she said it, Joyce realized how Reta might take it. "No, I didn't mean it that way."
"Freudian slips are often quite revealing," Reta said with a soft chuckle. "I noticed you're working on an all-over tan. You're looking good."
"Oh, yeah, I wasn't wearing much when I came out of the dressing room the first time, was I? I'm trying to look like you, but I don't think I'll ever make it." Joyce touched Reta's arm. "You have remarkably dark skin for a blonde."
"I think I've got some Italian or Spanish somewhere in my background," Reta said. She paused a moment. "Come to think of it, I vaguely remember my maternal grandmother saying something about the family having some Celtic-blood, so maybe that's where it comes from. My brown eyes, too, I guess, even though I'm blonde."
"So," Joyce said, "what's new in your life?"
"Not much what, but there's a who," Reta replied.
"Well, come on, don't keep me waiting, tell me about him."
"It could be a woman, you know," Reta said, then chuckled when Joyce's eyes opened real wide. "It is a guy, actually, Kurt, a young Scandinavian. Now, there's a blond for you. He's real big and looks like a Viking warrior, bushy beard and all."
"Is it serious?"
"Serious fun," Reta replied. "If you're asking if I'm going to invite you to a wedding any time soon, forget it. He's way too young for me to marry, and besides, I've read the fine print on a marriage license."
The waiter brought their drinks and Joyce said, "You're right, they are big." She took a sip of her martini. "Oooooo, they're cold, too, like drinking an iceberg." She took another sip. "What fine print?"
"The part that says you become the property of your husband, sweetheart. He can dictate your every thought and action and you must obey. Lots of women miss that part in their eagerness to snag a man to take care of them for-the rest of their lives. No offense intended."
"Only the truth," Joyce said, "and we can't hide from the truth. But you've never been married, so how do you know what marriage is like?"
"I'm very familiar with your marriage, don't forget."
"I hate to think that my marriage is the reason you never got married," Joyce said.
"It isn't, sweetheart. I've never found a man who didn't believe that shit really was printed on a marriage license." She stared into space a few moments and sipped her martini. "Actually, I've never met a man I thought could accept me for who and what I am. They like to say that they want a lady in the living room and a whore in the bedroom, but most of them don't really mean it. They can handle the lady part okay, but the whore part gives them fits. Something to do with their fragile male ego, I guess."
"Yeah, Carl and I weren't exactly a match made in heaven. I should have left him, but I got pregnant right after we married."
"You don't make a very good martyr, you know," Reta said.
"Oh, I don't know," Joyce said, "I think I suffered in silence pretty well. I'm a pretty good role model for what women shouldn't do. I've never had much self-confidence, and I thought marriage would be easier than trying to "have a career. I didn't know what I wanted to do anyway. The first couple of years weren't too bad, but after Danny was born, Carl seemed to just live in a world of his own. He drank a six-pack of beer every night, ate like a pig and sat in front of the TV until it was time for bed. The wonder isn't that he had a heart attack, it's that it didn't happen sooner. I've read that men sometimes do that, withdraw after a child comes along, I mean. They start equating their wife with their mother, and everybody knows that you don't screw your mother."
"Some guys do," Reta laughed.
"Well, maybe so, but Carl wouldn't screw me, and I didn't know how to deal with the situation."
"Short of tying him down and fucking him until he got the idea, there probably wasn't much you could do," Reta said.
"Have you ever done that? Tie a man down. and fuck him, I mean."
"Yeah, a few times," Reta laughed, "but only the light, playful stuff. I don't go for pain of any kind. Hell, I hate to go to the dentist. How's your love life, by the way?"
Joyce held out her hand and tilted it from side to side. "I went out with Howard Carter a couple nights ago," she said.
"How was he?"
"When it got down to the nitty-gritty, just like Carl," Joyce lamented. "I don't think I could-have gotten what I wanted, even if I had tied him down. I had to suck him to get him hard, but he didn't like it, and he wouldn't even touch my pussy with his hand, let alone his tongue."
"Yeah, I've met too many like that," Reta commiserated.
"Just once, I'd like to find a guy who'd turn me inside out with his tongue," Joyce said. "It's been so damn long. How's Kurt in that department?"
"Only half of his brain works when it come to giving head," Reta laughed. "He wants his cock sucked, but he doesn't like to lick clit."
"What do you do, just do without?"
"Hell, no! I know lots of ways to get my clit licked." She paused and grinned. "Even if I have to lick clit in return. You ready for another martini?"
"Ummm, I guess so. They're pretty good. I think I'm getting a little tipsy."
"Won't hurt you." Reta motioned the waiter over and ordered another round of martinis. "Our waiter is into body building," she said. "Bet you a piece of ass he's got a little cock."
"Oh, how can you tell? And how do you prove you're right?"
"It would blow his mind if I asked him to show us his cock, wouldn't it?" Reta laughed and gave Joyce a bawdy wink. "I have a lot more experience than you, sweetheart. Sometimes, when a man spends a lot of time developing his other muscles, he's trying to make up for a little cock, tries to impress women with his body so they won't notice his teenie weenie."
"Does Kurt have a teenie weenie?"
Reta grinned and shook her head. "No, his cock is nearly as big around as my wrist, and when he slides the thing into me real slow, I swear, it feels about a foot long."
"God, I'd love to get one that big, just once," Joyce mused, "one that would hit bottom every time he thrust."
"Yeah, that's a kick," Reta chortled. "Any cock that rocks the cradle is a good cock, whether it's thick or skinny."
Reta called the waiter over and ordered lunch and wine, and Joyce tried to look at his crotch without being obvious, wondering if Reta was right about the size of his cock.
"I wouldn't know," Joyce said. "I had a couple of guys before I met Carl, but they didn't stretch me as far as I think I can go, and Carl certainly didn't. I don't know how much I can handle, but I'd sure like to find out."
"Want me to loan you Kurt? I'm pretty sure that he'd stretch you pretty close to the limit."
"Do you come along with him?"
"Of course, sweetheart," Reta laughed. "I won't ever give up, you know."
"You might as well," Joyce said. "I could never do that, even if it meant getting a cock like Kurt's." She drank the rest of her martini and mused, "You know, I feel like I've led three lives, one before I met Carl, one with him, and now one without him. I wonder what this one will bring. I hope it's different and exciting, that something happens that will just blow my mind."
"Yeah, you need to chill out and live a little," Reta said, "and I know just the thing to get your started right. A good friend of mine is giving a party tonight, an intimate little gathering where nothing is forbidden and everybody has loads of fun. Why don't you come with me?"
"You're talking about an orgy, aren't you?" Joyce's voice quivered, catching her by surprise. She thought it was from fear, but how could she be sure?
"Right on," Reta said. "Nothing snaps me out of blue funk quicker than a rousing romp with friends, and you're in a blue funk, sweetheart."
"I don't know, Reta," Joyce said hesitantly. "I've never done anything like that, and I'm not sure that I can now. I mean, in front of a bunch of strangers?
"Sweetheart, a bunch of naked people in the same room, with sex on their mind, aren't strangers very long," Reta laughed. "You'll never know if you like it until you try it."
"
"You sound like a mother telling her kid to take a bite of rutabaga," Joyce said. "I've never made it with a woman, and I know that I don't want to."
"You don't know any such thing," Reta said. "If you don't try it, you'll never know if you do or don't like it, and you'll always wonder."
"What, making it with a woman or going to an orgy?"
"Both," Reta said with a big grin.
"Are you going to bring Kurt?"
"If I say yes, will it influence your decision?"
Joyce shook her head. "No, I was just wondering."
"He and a bunch of his buddies are going out to watch our local university gladiators beat each other up on the football field," Reta said, "but the host is hung as well."
"Okay," Joyce said, "I'll go, but I won't make it with a woman."
"Sweetheart, you don't have to do anything you don't want to," Reta assured her. "If the size of Ken's cock scares you, you don't even have to try him."
"That isn't what I mean," Joyce objected, without conviction.
"Like hell it isn't," Reta laughed.