Chapter 9

I was waiting for Heather when she got home from her classes, and the first thing I did was kiss her wetly on her mouth. She responded immediately, as I had hoped she would, and I carried her to her bed. I laid her on the bed, never taking my mouth from hers for a second, and I began to undress her while I kissed her. After a moment or two, she was naked, and we really got down to making love.

And it was strange, too, because I had only made love (no! not made love-ass fucked!) to Violet a few hours before, and I remember how exhausted it made me feel. But I felt none of that exhaustion now; none of the sensation dulling numbness that I would have expected from two sexual encounters spaced so closely together. I found myself aroused-intensely aroused-as though it had been years and not hours since my last sexual act. My cock was hard and rigid, as though a steel rod were running down its center, and when I came this second time, the pleasure was so powerfully exciting, that it seemed as if my balls had turned into generators, and I was spitting out bolts of electricity and not blobs of sperm.

There was, however, one very interesting highlight from our lovemaking. Although it was different from anything that had happened before, it merely confirmed my previous feelings about Heather. This time, she did use her mouth on me, and yet I experienced no disappointment in the act, nor did I feel in any way cheated by easy tactics. The difference between the way Heather used her mouth on me, and the way one of my Xanadu girls used her mouth was a qualitative difference. There was no gimmick about what she was doing: it was no means through which she were attempting to elicit a certain sexual end-my orgasm. She was not trying to trick me into getting hot enough to come. Rather, when Heather used her mouth, it was a natural, responsive act that was performed because it was pleasurable and exciting for the both of us. There was a spontaneity in her moves that was so far removed from the way in which one of my paid women performed the same job, that it almost could have been an entirely different sexual act. Heather used her mouth and lips out of a compassion, out of a sexual empathy, that was a very real and very natural expression of how we felt about one another at that moment. Heather did it because she wanted to do it, and that, really, was the difference.

And when I came, the feeling was like nothing I've ever experienced before-except for that one other time with Heather. It was a multileveled orgasm, gripping me first on a physical level, but also, and perhaps more important, on an emotional, spiritual and psychological level as well. It was a total body experience, touching every single aspect of my being, as though I had taken some kind of crazy acid, and my body and mind were locked together in a wildly pleasurable sexual-trip. My body experienced the coming-my fingers, my muscles, my stomach, my brain as well as my groin. It was as though I had become the orgasm and not just an extension of its pleasure.

My cock pumped and throbbed inside of Heather, and I kept on going higher and higher, reaching and touching levels of experience I never knew were possible to obtain. It continued to get better and better and better until my body felt hollow, and I thought I had nothing left to give. Yet, oddly, in this moment of exhaustion, rather than feel empty, I felt full and contented, as though I had not given, but received.

I fell asleep when we were finished, and even this was unusual. I never slept after sex in the day; I was usually too excited, too tense, as though all my nerves had been rubbed raw, and were exposed. Yet this time I slept, soundly and contentedly, naked under the single sheet, until it was dark, and

Heather had to wake me for the second time that day.

"It's dinnertime," she said, smiling down at me. She was naked from the waist up, wearing still her tightly fitting faded jeans. As she leaned forward, her large breasts swung forward, almost in my face.

I grabbed the one closest to me, and pulled the firm, fleshy orb down to my lips. I pinched the tit together, making the nipple swell, and I began to lick it.

"Are we having dessert first?" I asked, feeling my cock stirring to life again. By all rights, it should have been dead by now.

"That's very distracting," Heather said, laughing. "Don't you ever get enough?"

"Of you? Never!"

Heather slipped her hand under the sheet. Her fingers felt cool and light against my nakedness, and she slipped her grip around the erect shaft of my cock. She squeezed me and shook it back and forth with her hand.

"My God!" she mocked. "You are definitely the horniest man I've ever known. I thought I took care of this a little while ago?"

I spread my kisses to her other tit, licking both nipples until they were both wet and equally aroused. I could smell the musky warm odor of Heather's body, and it excited me.

"I guess you'll just have to take care of it again," I suggested, hopefully.

"I guess so."

Heather flipped back the sheets and exposed my erect cock. It looked stiff and red against the brown softness of her hand, with the dark tangle of my pubic hair like an angry cloud circling about my crotch. The circumcised head was swollen and thick, and I could see a bubble of moisture oozing from the slit on top.

"That looks good," Heather said, and she pulled her breasts away from me. I could feel them sliding across my chest and stomach as she moved her mouth down towards my body.

A stab of wetness went through me as I watched Heather part her lips and take my cock into her mouth. Her mouth was hot and wet, and she sank her lips down to the base of my belly, taking the full distended length of my cock inside her. She rolled her tongue in an undulating way, pressing it flatly against the underside of my cock, and I knew I could have come right then and there, from that small sexual caress. That was all I needed.

I don't know whether she sensed I could have come, or whether she had other reasons, but Heather let her mouth slide up the length of my cock. She lapped at the head twice, running her tongue over it in a slow, swirling stroke, and she pulled her lips away.

"Enough." She said it firmly, finally. I thrust my hips up, pressing my cock against her cheek. "Do it again, please?"

"After dinner. Remember, I'm a vegetarian. You don't want to ruin my meal by stuffing meat in my mouth, do you?"

From her joke, I sensed that the mood had changed. No amount of coaxing could have gotten Heather to alter her decision. So I rearranged my priorities, and tried to put my sexual needs out of my mind. Besides, feeling the way I did about Heather, we would probably be spending all our time in bed if she gave in every time I wanted to have sex with her. I could never seem to get enough of her. I was obsessed with her-her body, her mind, her moods, her personality. I was like a child with her, and each thing she did was like magic, and filled with wonderment.

"What's for dinner?" I asked, wiping the moisture of her mouth from my cock with the sheet. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, and I sat up.

"Well, I'm having eggs and carrots and grapes. Probably some cheese and fruit too. But I can make you a hamburger."

I shook my head. "No, I'll have what you're having. It sounds good. Something different for a change."

Heather smiled. "I'll turn you into a vegetarian yet if you don't watch out."

I stood up and stretched. "Do I have time for a shower?"

"Sure. The only thing I have to cook is the eggs. We eat all the rest raw. Would you like some bread with your meal?"

"The bread you made?"

"It's the only bread in the house."

"Good. Then I'll have some. It's the best bread I've ever had."

Heather smiled, accepting the compliment with warm pride. She turned her back on me and walked towards the kitchen.

I started for the bathroom. "And would you do me a favor? Would you put something on? I can't eat when I'm distracted."

Heather smiled and blushed. "All right, Steve."

I showered quickly, and dried myself with a large, soft bath towel while I stood shivering on the worn red bathroom rug. I brushed my teeth, dried my hair and brushed it into place, and I dressed. I put on a pair of jeans that I'd brought with me, and an old, comfortable sweater shirt. I didn't bother with underwear, and I felt very comfortable and relaxed and very much at home.

The meal was delicious, and I found I was ravenously hungry. Instead of eating in the kitchen, we brought the food into the living room, and ate there. Heather sat on the floor, her legs crossed Indian-fashion, with her back leaning against the studio couch. I sat on the studio couch, or leaned rather, laying down, and ate in a very relaxed fashion. Heather put some records on, and we listened to the music as we ate, by the light of a flickering candle.

I had two eggs and probably half a loaf of the bread. After the eggs I had some sliced raw carrots and chunks of some hard kind of cheese. The cheese was tangy and it stung the roof of my mouth, but it was excellent. Then we had fruit and nuts: Heather had some grapes and I had two oranges. I finished the meal with black coffee while Heather sipped from a glass of cold milk.

I lay back on the couch and felt bloated. I was full and satisfied. I could not remember having had a better meal, unless it was the simple one we had for breakfast. All my values seemed to have changed, and something as basic as eating had taken on new dimensions of experience.

Heather suggested that we do some of her hash, and I agreed. She didn't have a hash pipe, so she made one from the cardboard tube of a wire coat hanger. She covered one end with tin foil, and chipped off a small chunk of the hash. She was right: with three tokes we were stoned. And after the whole piece was gone, I felt as though I were floating on the air. I felt so relaxed and comfortable; as though I hadn't a care in the world, and wouldn't have worried if I had, I was just going to suggest going to bed to make love, when Heather held her hand up and told me there was someone knocking at the door. I heard the knock-it sounded so far away and distant land I remembered suddenly that I had heard a car drive up moments before.

With no sense of anxiety, Heather pulled herself up and walked to the door. "Who is it?" she asked.

Someone answered, but I couldn't understand the reply. Heather apparently had, and she threw the door open, her face beaming with joy.

"Sara!" she shouted. "Sara!" Wow. Come on in!"

I watched, still dazed from the potency of the hash, as Heather led into the room a tall, rather attractive looking girl. She was truly statuesque, probably five-foot-eight or nine, with soft brown hair that hung very long, down past her high, broad shoulders. Her face was a clean-looking pink, speckled with freckles around her nose and cheeks, and she had large moist gray-hazel eyes.

"Hi!" she said, smiling.

"This is Sara, Steve," Heather said to me, excitement bubbling in her voice. "Sara is my friend."

I had just gotten up from my reclining position, and it was quite an effort, when someone else entered the doorway. This person was a man, although he was young-looking, and he had shoulder-length dark brown hair, and a thick, bushy beard.

"You must be Lenny," Heather said to him. She threw her arms around him and hugged him enthusiastically. "I've heard so much about you from Sara's letters."

"Hi," he said back. "I've heard about you too."

Heather led her friends into the living room to introduce them to me. I was standing now, a little more steadily, with a smile on my face.

"Steve," Heather said, making it a formal introduction, "this is Sara, my friend, and this is Lenny, her boyfriend. He's more than a boyfriend, really.

They've been living together for almost three years now."

I smiled and said "Hi!" to Sara. Lenny held out his hand and I shook it. "Hi, Steve," he said.

"Steve is a ... friend of mine," Heather added after a moment, searching for the appropriate word but settling for "friend." It was as good as any word, I guess.

We stood awkwardly for a moment or two, like all new strangers, but only Heather seemed oblivious to it. Her excitement bubbled over again, and she threw her arms around Sara and hugged her tightly, kissing her on the cheek.

"How did you get here?" she asked. "Oh God, I'm so happy to see you!"

"We drove," Sara explained. "Lenny bought a VW bus, and we drove all the way in."

"They live in Pennsylvania," Heather told me. Then, turning her attention back to her friend, she said, "But why didn't you write?"

Sara shrugged her shoulders, smiling wordlessly. "We didn't know we were going to come. We started off to a movie, and we ended up driving to California."

"We never did get to see the movie," Lenny added. "It just seemed like a good idea at the time. Besides, I like to travel. It's good to get away from things when they begin to hassle you too much."

For a split-second I felt a twinge of envy about their sense of freedom. I longed often, as most people do, to just cut loose and go, but always responsibility and practicality had held me back. I had my business to think of.

Still, it was only a momentary flutter of jealousy, and it was quickly forgotten in the contagious excitement of the long-parted friends meeting again. There was such happiness in the air, that it seemed to fill the room, and I could not be anything but happy for them and happy with them even though I had only met them.

Heather led them in, and Lenny closed the door behind him. Heather was hugging Sara and beaming at Lenny.

"Are you hungry?" Heather asked. "I'm so surprised that I can't think straight. Would you like an orange or some carrots?"

"No, no thanks," Lenny said. "We just finished eating a little while ago. Thanks though."

"Are you sure?" Heather pressed. "Are you positive?"

"Yes, yes, we're sure."

We were still standing, talking back and forth, and Heather realized this and told everyone to sit down. "You have to be comfortable in my house," she said. "And then you must write something on my wall."

I sat down, feeling just a little uncomfortable because I didn't know them, and Lenny sat down next to me, sitting on the other end of the studio couch. He, too, looked a little ill at ease. Sara was relaxed, and she sat on the floor, facing us, crossing her legs in a yoga position. Only Heather was too excited to sit, and she walked around in a widening frantic circle.

"Would you like to do some hash?" she continued, desperately trying to be a perfect hostess. "Steve and I were just doing some."

"I thought I smelled something," Sara said, smiling knowingly.

"Actually," Lenny added, "we brought you something. A little house gift." From the top pocket of his shirt, he took a small brown bottle. It looked like a medicine bottle, only it was filled with a fine-looking grainy substance. I took it for what it was-about an ounce of very clean marijuana.

"Oh, we can't take that," Heather said, and I was pleased to hear that she had included me in her "we."

"You're our guests! I should be giving it to you."

Sara frowned, but not a frown of anger; one of firmness. "Nonsense! this is our gift, and you can't deny us that pleasure. Besides, we'll be using it too, so it won't be just a gift for you."

"We insist you take it," Lenny added. "Or you'll hurt our feelings."

Heather knew when to give in. She smiled and looked honestly touched by the gift. "Thank you," she said softly. "From someone who knows how expensive this can be, I can really appreciate this. It's one of the nicest gifts you can give someone."

She bent down and kissed Sara on the cheek, then went to the couch and kissed Lenny. He blushed slightly, and made a feeble attempt to kiss her back on the cheek.

"Are you sure there isn't anything you want?" Heather insisted. "Oh, I wish I had some wine to offer."

Sara laughed for a minute. "Well, there is one thing..."

"What? Name it!"

"Can I use your bathroom? I'm going to pee on your rug."

Heather said of course and pointed to the bathroom. Sara got up, and Lenny said he had to go too.

"Why don't you roll some joints until I'm finished," Sara suggested.

He agreed and said he would need a table and a piece of paper. Heather led him into the kitchen, asked him again if he wanted anything, then came back inside with me while he rolled and Sara peed.

We were alone in the living room for the first time since they came.

"I used to work with Sara," Heather told me. "You didn't know I used to work, did you? Well I did. We used to work in a computer office. Just the two of us and our ex-Nazi boss, Mr. Grouder. He was really a Nazi during the war. He had a German Cross and everything. He brought it in to show us once..."

Heather was reminiscing, running her mind warmly over the past again, recapturing its glow. And I felt jealous once more because it had been part of her life before me, and I could not share in those experiences. It was foolish, yet I felt hurt.

"How did Sara meet Lenny?" I asked, purposely breaking into her memories.

"I don't know," she said. "She met him in Pennsylvania. She quit work one day. It just got too much for Sara and she sold her furniture, packed a few clothes, called up work and told Mr. Grouder to go fuck himself, and she took off for New York. She walked to the freeway from her house and began to hitch."

I shook my head. "You mean just like that? No goodbyes, no planning? She just took off?"

Heather nodded, and there was a wistful gleam in her eye. "Just like that. Jeez, I wish I could be like that. That free. That secure. That sure of yourself that you have the confidence to change your whole life because it needs to be changed."

Her words made me feel doubly disconcerted, because Heather had always seemed so free to me. I couldn't believe that there could be someone whose lifestyle was even more independent than hers. What did that make me then if Heather was a conservative compared to Sara and Lenny? Did that make me a reactionary, or a fascist?

Sara came out of the bathroom finally, and Lenny went in. He had about four joints rolled, and Sara took up where he left off. By the time he came out of the bathroom, there were about ten joints all together, with less than half of the bottle gone.

The girls sat on the floor and talked again of old times, while Lenny sat on the couch with me, not really saying too much, but seeming more and more relaxed. He lit the first joint, sucked hard on it, and passed it to Sara. She drew on it and passed it to Heather, who did-likewise. I was the last to get it, and the smoke was very hot and harsh. I sucked on it and passed it back to Lenny. The circle began again.

It continued that way for three more joints. By this time I was totally zonked. The grass was tremendously powerful, and it worked subtly on the groundwork previously laid by the hash. After a while, I didn't know what was happening, nor did I care.

Somehow, someone put records on, and I heard myself listening to the Woodstock album, all six sides. We spent a great deal of time laughing and breaking up over silly, but insanely funny things that we said and did. Sara said something about the birds and the bees that I didn't understand, so I added something about vultures to it. Neither one of us knew what either of us was talking about, nor about what we were talking about for that matter, but it sounded so hilarious that we were rolling on the floor together for what seemed like ten minutes. I remember I almost wet my pants I laughed so hard.

Through the fog of grass, I realized I liked Sara and Lenny. They were warm and friendly, and we were sharing something together. Perhaps it was the effects of the grass that made me feel close to them, but I'd rather think not. I'd rather believe it was them, as people, that made me feel good. For they cared about people! People more than anything else-more than money, more than power, more than acquiring things. In a lot of ways, Sara and Lenny were a great deal like Heather. They had the same style of life, and they believed in the same goals and values. They were "yes-sayers," and after men like Harvey Curtis and women like Diane Miller, it was a refreshing experience.

So, considering this, I found it particularly disconcerting when the topic of conversation somehow turned to sex, and Heather came out and boldly proclaimed that she was horny for Lenny. And I was even more disconcerted when Sara proclaimed his sexual prowess, and invited her girlfriend to "try," in her words, "my man and see what you think of him."

The fog suddenly cleared, and I watched, with my heart sinking in my chest, as Heather-my Heather-got up from the floor, and stumbled, with Lenny in hand, towards the bedroom. And I was left alone with Sara.