Chapter 3
Several days later, Professor Neubarth came home from his classes in the late afternoon. When he stepped inside the entrance, he was gripped with a distinct feeling of solitude, and once he had entered the living room he was sure that no one was at home. To be sure, he looked in the bedrooms and in the kitchen table he saw a sheet of paper. Going to it and peering down, he read: "Victor, I've gone over to Beatrice Holman's house for a little while. Your supper is on the stove. Will be home soon. Love, Louise. P.S. Farley is staying late for band practice."
Neubarth ate the tepid Mexican casserole, then went into the living room and clicked on the TV set. He watched the evening news, a half-hour situation comedy, and part of an hour-long western series before he began to become concerned. What could keep her this long? He wasn't entirely sure that he knew who this Beatrice Holman was. But then, Louise probably had a good many friends he didn't know about. He thought that he might go for a drive. Getting out for a few minutes would rest his mind.
He went out to his car, started it up, and drove away slowly down the quiet residential street. He cruised toward the business district of the small college town, and when he got to the first stoplight he turned right and proceeded down the garishly lit street, glancing into the bright store windows as he drove. Reaching the end of the long line of closely ranked shops, he turned again, directing his car along a street that he was sure was mostly comprised of students' apartments. After a couple of blocks he saw Louise's Volkswagen parked on the right side of the street. He drove by, the discovery failing to register. It hit him in the middle of the next block, and he made a U-turn, drove back, and parked across the street from her tiny blue car. His mind was alive with visions of Louise having found out about his recent indiscretions, and of her seeking some extra-curricular activities of her own. But then, he decided, his thoughts calming, this might very well be Beatrice Holman's house. He rolled down his window and immediately heard loud music coming from the building across the way. The origin of the music seemed to be the brilliantly lit house directly behind Louise's car. This didn't jive; he knew that she didn't like the tinny squalls that masqueraded as music among the modern younger generation, and the type of music that he was hearing was definitely of that variety. He felt forced to investigate. He got out of the car and walked across the dark street. As he did so, the door of the house opened, and two people came out, only their outlines distinguishable because of the glaring lights behind them. Neubarth rehearsed telling them that he was looking for someone — a fictitious someone. When he was almost to them, a voice boomed out, "Well hello, Professor!" and a feminine outcry followed immediately: "Victor!" The latter voice was that of Louise, and the former — he knew, there was no use denying it to himself — was the voice of Ted Rhadaman.
They all stood close together for a moment, till Louise spoke, breaking the silence. "This certainly is a surprise, Victor." Her voice was shaky, as though she were frightened, or as though she had had a little too much to drink.
"I thought you were at this Beatrice Holman's," Neubarth said, his voice quavering.
"This is her house, Professor." Ted stepped forward, his red hair appearing only as a shadowy blot against the night. His eyes were almost invisible, but Neubarth, looking at him, saw something like a minute yellow pinwheel spinning in each of them. Even in the darkness, his eyes shone with an unearthly light.
"Well, hell," Rhadaman said, "let's go back in." He clutched Louise by the arm, and motioning the Professor to follow, mounted the steps and pushed inside. Neubarth climbed the steps tiredly, his heart bouncing like a tennis ball in his chest, and his throat as dry as the Sahara.
Once inside, Neubarth could hear or think nothing. The music walled everyone in, as though with supreme solidity. Unbridled sound was the master. There were many people there, some seated, some standing about in the comfortably furnished living room. Having just come in from the pure night air, Neubarth was almost overpowered by the thick screens of smoke wreathing the place, and though the pervading smell was of burning tobacco, a completely distinctive musky odor also was evident. Neubarth knew that he had smelled it before. He knew it was marijuana.
Louise pulled him through the crowd and over to a card table, around which people were sitting, playing cards. Louise introduced him to a heavy, matronly looking women, who smiled at him. "And this is Beatrice Holman, Victor."
She extended her hand. "Delighted to meet you, Professor. Louise has spoken of you many times." Her tone was unctuous. Neubarth responded to her greeting, then turned aside to look questioningly at his wife.
Louise understood his interrogatory expression. She explained that Beatrice was a member of her Thursday afternoon bridge club, and in a somewhat lower voice she resolved his unspoken question by telling him that Ted Rhadaman had been present when she arrived. He was about to ask her what the hell was going on, when he was interrupted by Mrs. Holman's voice.
"I do so enjoy the company of young people. Don't you, Professor Neubarth?" Beatrice asked.
Neubarth didn't answer.
"They seem to have such a fresh approach to things," she continued. "I find their presence at my affairs ... " she waved her hand out towards the heavily peopled room, " ... well, invigorating."
Neubarth looked around him. He saw no one in the room whom he knew, but agewise, the group was indeed heterogeneous. An extremely professorial-looking gentleman of about fifty-five was seated next to a girl who looked barely eighteen. They were deeply engrossed in conversation. They bent their heads very near each other, one speaking with emphatic gestures while the other listened closely, then exchanging conversational roles. Neubarth squinted his eyes to see through the curling smoke. He could see Rhadaman nowhere.
The music continued unabated. In fact, Neubarth thought, its piercing shrillness seemed to be growing in intensity. Louise thrust a cold glass into his hand and led him away to an unoccupied space on a divan across the room. They sat down and Louise began to speak rapidly. "I hope you're not angry, darling. I know finding me at a rather lively affair like this might be a little shocking to you. Beatrice is such a fine friend of mine, that when she called me and invited me to her house this evening, I just couldn't refuse."
"No, it's all right, Louise," Neubarth said, and took a drink from the glass in his hand. The smoky warmth of good scotch spread through his body, and he immediately felt his tensions subside. Another deep swallow and he felt very comfortable indeed. Looking around him again, he saw that a good many of the people present were exhibiting some of the early earmarks of drunkenness. Various men blundered about among the crowd, unseen women shrieked with laughter, and one young blonde was doing an impromptu and vigorous dance a few feet away. She leaped into the air and came down in a splits position several times in succession. Her skirt stretched up about her thighs as she landed. Neubarth felt a tingling in his lower belly. He took another long pull from his glass, finishing the drink.
He felt that he should go now, but looking towards Louise he saw that she was embroiled in a discussion with a young man sitting next to her. He could hear snatches of their conversation: "The psychedelic sound ... My God, the colors were ... but Brahms ... " It was meaningless.
He faced his front once again to see that the willowy blonde was walking on her hands. Many men, and a few women, were crowded around her. Her long, white legs thrust upward from the black silk which covered her buttocks, the muscles in them trembling as she moved. There were cries of admiration from the people surrounding her, and a few lewd comments from the men. Her skirt hung down to her breasts and her long, straight blonde hair swept the carpet as she described wobbly circles before the enraptured eyes of her audience. Abruptly, she let herself topple backward, and fell in a sitting position on the floor. She looked up at the attentive group ringing her, laughed uproariously, and asked for a drink.
The attention of the crowd became diffused again. Neubarth sipped at his second drink, which had been supplied by a young woman who was strolling among the people, acting as a waitress. The gnawing in his loins continued, now intensified by the sight of the athletic girl's smooth, well-muscled legs.
"Let's go home now, Louise," he said to his wife, interrupting her conversation with the young man in midsentence. The boy looked at him with startled eyes, mumbled something, and turned away.
"But Victor, I don't want to go yet. I haven't been out like this in such a long time." Her words were slurred, and though she gazed up at him plaintively, Neubarth could see that she was beginning to be numbed by her unaccustomed intake of liquor. She was becoming drunk. He hadn't seen her even remotely intoxicated since the days of their first dates, twenty or more years before. He remembered having taken her for the first time in the back seat of his old Plymouth, while she had been high from drinking of the bottle of gin that he had purchased earlier in the evening, even then plotting the sexual tumble which came to pass later. Yes, it began with liquor, he thought.
Neubarth's thoughts were interrupted by a shout from the other side of the room. He saw Mrs. Holman standing shakily upright upon a folding chair.
"We're going to inaugurate an interesting little game here," she announced grinning with drunken merriment. "All of you are cordially invited to participate. It's called strip poker!" She yelled out the last few words and then was plucked bodily from the chair by an unseen someone. Though she was hidden in the crowd now, Neubarth could still hear her loud guffaw.
Louise got up and made her way rapidly towards the card table. Neubarth jumped up behind her and tried to grab at her arm in an attempt to detain her long enough to talk some sense into her. She moved quickly and managed to elude him as she twisted through the packed bodies. Pushing through the coat backs in pursuit of her, he came suddenly upon the lean body of Ted Rhadaman, who was standing directly in his path, blocking his progress.
"Now, now, Professor. You are going to let Mrs. Neubarth have her evening of excitement, aren't you?" Rhadaman said in a soft voice, while smiling down from his height advantage of four or five inches. "Strip poker is a rather uninspired idea, but maybe for you older folks it's just about lively enough, huh?"
Neubarth looked back into his eyes and felt heat and cold alternately race through his veins. He felt weak. He said nothing.
Rhadaman took him by the arm and directed him through the crowd to the table. Seven or eight people sat around it, among them Louise and Beatrice Holman. Beatrice saw him approaching and smiled benignly, motioning for those around her to spread out and allow him room to sit down. They did, and Neubarth took a seat on the edge of a coffee table which had been utilized for this purpose. "Five card draw" was the call. The cards were dealt with considerable dexterity by an elderly gentleman seated to Louise's right. Aside from Louise, Beatrice, the elderly dealer, and himself, the participants in the game were all of college age. He looked across the table at his wife. Her eyes were like muddy pools and her lips were drawn back in a mirthful grimace as she scooped up her cards.
It went rapidly. In about ten minutes of rather incompetent playing, all of the women had lost their inconsequentials, such as shoes, earrings, watches, and Beatrice had bet and lost her nylons. Neubarth, warming to the game, or to the scotch, with which he was continually supplied, was down to his trousers and T-shirt. As though by plan, no player won consistently. The pile of various articles of apparel grew until someone scraped them off onto the floor, and win or lose, no one reclaimed anything.
Neubarth could hardly see the cards in his hand, but after staring at them for a while, he picked out three natural aces. He resolved to go all the way, knowing that the eager women would follow his raises. He bet his T-shirt and trousers, Beatrice and Louise followed suit by calling him with their dresses and slips. A girl across the way, already down to her underclothing, bet her slip and bra, and then, saying, "What the hell," added her panties to the list without demanding that they be considered a raise. They were playing a more exciting version of the game, which allowed the players to retain their clothing until they had actually lost them. When someone did lose, all activity ceased while that person stripped off the forfeited article of clothing. Most of the people in the room stood in a deep ring around the table, their attention entirely upon the cards, the terse raises, and the gradually enlarging vistas of male or female flesh. The almost unclad girl won. She lay down a pair of jacks and three tens, and grinned across at Neubarth as he disgustedly threw down his insufficient hand.
Someone turned the stereo off, and all eyes in the now silent room focused on the little cluster of players around the small cardboard table. Neubarth quickly yanked his T-shirt over his head and pulled his trousers off, and sat back down, feeling annoyed. He had wanted to see the young girl in the white slip in all her firmly pink nakedness. Louise stood up, and with an obscene and highly inebriated grin, unzipped her dress and lifted it up past her hair, then followed it with her floral patterned slip. When she sat down, Mrs. Holman had already squirmed out of her requisite clothing and, her face reddening, was striving to lean in from her sitting position so as to hide as much of her newly exposed body as was possible from the attentive onlookers. From his vantage point, Neubarth could see the layers of her stomach fat rippling out like the folds of an accordion over the top of her inadequate pantie girdle. She obviously wasn't drunk enough, and trying to amend that situation, she took a long pull from her cocktail glass, and then another, finishing it. She asked for a refill. Louise sat, still smiling woodenly, with her hands clasped behind her head and her legs flung wide apart, so that strands of black pubic hair extruded from beneath her red panties. Then all of the players concerned themselves with their separate drinks, in preparation for the final onslaught on their propriety by the fickle gods of chance.
The next hand was won by the elderly dealer, who, contrary to his previous practice, dealt some cards to himself for this deciding contest. Everyone at the table had all of their remaining clothing in the balance, and Neubarth suspected, through the drunken haze in his head, that the women had accepted the few raises without even looking at their cards. Beatrice Holman, however, looked at her hand with smug caution. She obviously thought that she had won, and when the old gentleman laid down a five-card straight, her face fell visibly, and she took another large drink from her recently replenished glass.
Someone from the audience suggested that the ultimate unveiling take place one at a time, with each loser standing up and slowly shedding the winner's bounty. This suggestion met with a chorus of approval from the group at large, though Neubarth noticed that some of the people were leaving the party now, apparently having had their fill of the decadent goings-on. Neubarth smiled to himself, secretly pleased at his sophistication in the face of the possible humiliation of this sort of thing. His fogged mind offered him no moral castigation.
Louise's eagerness to disrobe was immediately apparent. She stood up and, making little movements with her legs, put her hands behind her back, undid her bra and let the supporting garment slide down her arms and fall onto the floor. She stood up straight and arched her back in an attempt to make her sagging dugs stand up more prominently, and succeeded at least in part. The tired sacks of flesh perked upright, and her dark nipples rose in the excitement of her exhibitionism. She continued to smile while bending down to hook her thumbs in the waistband of her panties and loose them from the confines of hip and buttock. They slid to the carpet, and she strutted about for a minute, displaying the wide blackness of her pubic fleece. Neubarth could see little fluorescent spots of liquid wetness at the ends of some of her crotch hairs. She's really getting excited, he thought dimly. But the sight of her nude body aroused no answering lust in him, so he swung his eyes expectantly to the young girl, who had just gotten up from her seat. Louise sat down.
The young girl quickly pulled her satiny slip over her head and stood clad only in the briefest of bikini pants and a strapless bra. She seemed a little hesitant about removing these last bits of undergarment, but visibly steeling herself for the ordeal, she slowly undid the little metallic hasps between the twin cups while the watching group around her inhaled and held their breath collectively. The scrap of cushiony material came free and the solid meat of her youthful — though bounteous — breasts bounced for a moment beneath the harsh glare of light. There were "oohs" and "aahs" from the crowd as they expressed their appreciation.
"They stick right up there, don't they!" someone said. The girl blushed and appeared reluctant to go on. The crowd demanded that she continue, however, so she smiled falteringly, bent low with her creamy mounds swaying like ripe fruit, and pushed her panties down, then stepped out of them. Everyone fastened his eyes upon the delicate, furry triangle that came into view. The girl turned in a complete circle so that everyone could see her body from all viewpoints. Her buttocks were white and as plumpishly firm as her strawberry-tipped breasts. There were two tiny dimples just above the dark furrow between the fat cheeks. She turned around once again, and Neubarth looked upon the fine hair of her pubis with the gnawing in his loins abruptly taking the form of an erection. She sat down, the murmurs of admiration having erased her uneasiness, and didn't bother to reach for her clothes.
Beatrice Holman seemed to realize that the group's attention had shifted to her. Her face underwent a series of uncomfortable contortions, and she bent lower against the edge of the sheltering card table. The people grew restive, and began to mutter among themselves. A large man near the table said, "C'mon honey, get 'em off." Her face became a deep crimson. She obviously wanted to evade carrying out her expected striptease.
"I think this has gone about far enough," she said, trying to inject a stern tone into her squeaky voice. Her pudgy face contracted into an expression that signified her distaste for any further revelry, and she reached for her dress amid the pile of clothing on the floor. A man who Neubarth had not noticed until that moment clutched her shoulders from behind.
"We must fulfill our bargains, mustn't we, Bea?" he said, pulling her back into an upright position. "The other girls have complied." He pointed towards Louise and the young girl, both of whom sat in casual attitudes upon their folding chairs. Louise's position was very casual indeed. She sat with her legs flung widely apart, so that the livid inner regions of her sex were displayed for anyone who cared to notice.
"But Harry, I don't want to," Beatrice whimpered. She started to say something else, but Harry interrupted her by pulling her to her feet and motioning for someone to help him with the unveiling. Three or four men moved in and numerous hands began to fumble at the complex bindings of Beatrice's foundation garments. The clasps and zippers came free, and amid Beatrice's stifled sobs, the primitive corset and gigantically cupped brassiere fell to the floor. Upon viewing her body, Neubarth's first impression was of pictures he had seen of the little statuettes of bronze age fertility goddesses. Beatrice Holman's mammoth breasts cascaded down to her midsection. Their nipple areas seemed to be as large as saucers. The nipples themselves were shrunken and withered. Three great rolls of fat comprised her stomach, and the lowest of these almost hid her palely colored patch of pubic hair. Her stumpy legs were knead in close together, as she made a pitiful attempt to hide her genitals. It was too late however. Harry and another man held her heavy arms outright and turned her slowly before the grouped stare of the audience. Her buttocks were like two overstuffed pillows, grossly fat and dimpled. Neubarth saw Harry turn towards someone in the group surrounding the table, a questioning look in his guileless blue eyes.
Following Harry's glance, Neubarth turned his head to see Ted Rhadaman, who stood at the edge of the crowd, nod as though in acceptance. Beatrice was released, though she was still prevented from retrieving her clothing, and amid shouts of gaiety, the group began to mill about with the three still naked women joining in the aimless movement. Beatrice joined the human swarm somewhat reluctantly. Neubarth was aware that he had been forgotten, and so got up, and still clad in only his shorts, moved into the group and tried to keep the tantalizing nude body of the young girl in view.
Everyone continued to replenish their drinks from the several half-gallon bottles of assorted spirits that sat on a coffee table. Neubarth was drinking heavily. He couldn't seem to get enough and found himself going over to the table quite often to refill his glass. Suddenly he heard a chorus of shouts from somewhere at the other end of the room, and then saw two shoes sticking upright and moving in his direction above the shoulders of the crowd. The people parted, and revealed the athletic young blonde walking on her hands again, though now she wobbled considerably more than she had previously. On each side of her, men were making appraising comments about her stockingless white legs and the firm thrust of her taut buttocks against the silken fabric of her black panties. A few hands reached out tentatively and stroked her quivering legs as she wobbled past. Others patted her protuberant rear, and one touched the little mound of her sex which welled up against the satin. She came to a shaky halt and wavered there for a moment. A young man of college age came forward, holding an uncorked bottle of champagne in one hand. He smiled like a jack-o-lantern, gripped one of her legs, and began to slide his hand up and down in a caressing motion. His loose clutch seemed to steady her and she balanced there, swaying only slightly. Neubarth marveled at her strength.
The young man had meanwhile let his hand fall onto her crotch and, after stroking it briefly, slid his fingers under the waistband of her panties, wrenched them up to mid-thigh and then pulled them from her shoe tops. She immediately spread her legs wide, affording the watchers an unobscured view of the dark cleft that extended from vaginal opening to anus. Her pubic hair was of a tan color, and tightly curled. The young man moved his index finger the length of the groove between her trembling thighs, letting his finger prod at her exposed anus and then intrude shallowly into her opened vagina. Her legs quivered with exertion and excitement.
The youth abruptly drew back and, swinging the champagne bottle up between the girl's legs, began to pour the bubbling liquid into the gaping orifice of her sex. The wine dribbled over the brink of the distended lips, and ran over her jutting buttocks and through the bristling beard which covered her mound of venus. She kicked her legs violently but didn't drop from her position, and the young man put a hand on each of her thighs and sank his head down between the girl's thrashing limbs. He worked his face energetically within the golden muff, raising his head occasionally and licking the mixture of wine and lubricative juice from his grinning lips. The crowd applauded his actions loudly, though Neubarth was in such a foggy state of mind that he had some trouble even seeing the weirdly coupled duo, let alone attempt to add his voice to the general clamor. Finally they collapsed, the girl's strength obviously at an end, and the young man continued to hold his mouth tightly against the blonde girl's jerking groin as they fell onto the carpet. She began to move her hips in a wild rhythm, while she fumbled at the boy's fly zipper, and after some difficulty, got it open. His penis unfolded out of the opening in his trousers like a sausage-shaped balloon being inflated, and once it was free, the blonde girl began to nibble at its rosy head, while caressing the swollen shank with a feverish hand. The onlookers gazed down in rapt attention, a few of the men among them interrupting their vigil long enough to paw at the bodies of the women nearest them.
Neubarth veered away through the steadily diminishing groups of people, bumping violently into some in his passage. One man, upon being struck violently from behind by Neubarth's reeling body, placed his hand upon the drunken Professor's chest and pushed him to the floor. Hardly realizing his sudden introduction to the carpet, Neubarth clambered clumsily upright and continued onward in his earnest search for the liquor. He couldn't locate the coffee table which served as a bar, though he reconnoitered in what he thought were different directions. His questing movements became as frantic as his building thirst. Eventually he made his way to a sofa, and managed to snatch a glass from the limp hand of a woman who had passed out with her body half on the floor and half propped up against the cushions. He took one long, greedy gulp of the tasteless whiskey and then saw, past the wet rim of the old-fashioned glass, the nude girl from the poker session struggling with a man seated next to her at the other end of the couch. The man, who looked like a middle-aged executive type, was trying to put his hand between the girl's legs, and she laughingly barred his progress with only a little effort. The man was very drunk, and burbled what he probably thought were extremely clever sweet nothings as he groped towards the girl's bushy groin and poked at her erect young breasts.
Neubarth felt as though he should go to the girl's assistance, and so he staggered up to the grappling couple and pushed with all his strength on the man's sweaty face. The man fell back against the sofa and then slowly and painfully tried to right himself. As he clutched at the sofa material in his attempt to regain his position, he looked up at Neubarth with fear in his bulging eyes and little flecks of spittle at the corners of his mouth.
"Why did you do that?" the man whimpered. His face spun before Neubarth's eyes.
"Get away, you filthy pig!" Neubarth yelled at the frightened man, while pushing him off onto the floor. The man began to cry agonizingly and crawled off on his hands and knees, the sobs visibly shaking his portly body.
Neubarth sidled up next to the girl, who was laughing with abandon now, and seeing the white globe of her breast just in front of his face, gasped and thrust his mouth over the flame-red tip of her nipple. She let him snort about for a minute, and then she thrust him firmly back.
"But why can't I?" Neubarth asked plaintively. "I want to." Lust flowed through his body, rejuvenating his numbed senses, and causing his stiffening organ to rear up beneath the cloth of his undershorts. "I want you! I want you!" he exclaimed, puffing like a sprinter, and fell onto the girl. They both toppled back against the sofa, and Neubarth forced his hand between her closed thighs and into the hairy sanctuary of her sex. She opened her legs, and leaning back against the sofa backrest, allowed Neubarth to locate her rigid little clitoris and fondle it frantically. After a few minutes her breath became labored, then there were several short, explosive exhalations, and her body lost its physical tension. She began to laugh again.
"Not bad, old man," she said harshly. "Now you get away!" She punctuated this command by shoving her feet against Neubarth's chest and shoving him away. He fell off the couch and his head struck the floor with a resounding clunk. He lay there, watching the light spin around and around. A massive polyphony of disconnected sounds descended upon him like a blanket, and he lost consciousness from the combined influence of the liquor and the fall.
He came to, uncertain as to how long he had been lying there. He sat up. The nude girl was gone from the sofa, another couple now sat where she had been. Neubarth got to his feet and looked around him. The crowd had thinned considerably, and the remaining revelers were almost unanimously in the final stages of intoxication. More than half of them were completely naked, so that Neubarth saw, as he peered through swollen lids, a strange montage of pink and brown skin dotted by the contrasting darkness of hair on rapidly moving heads, secreted in diffuse pubic areas.
He wanted another drink, so he shoved into a group of people and made his way through them and over to the coffee table that he couldn't find before. He had to drain all the remaining liquor to fill the sticky glass he had found. He drank and felt the haphazard mixture of fluids burn its way down his throat and plunk against his stomach lining like molten tar.
The drink soothed him through, and looking up from the stained table, he saw Beatrice Holman lying naked on the carpet a few feet from him. Her legs were spread wide, and she was laughing hysterically, her mountainous flesh duplicating the tempo of her glee by vibrating as though there were an earthquake within her. A fully clothed man bent between her legs, and Neubarth, moving to see better, saw that it was Harry, and that he was poling a bent, wire clothes-hanger into the hair-fringed mouth of Beatrice's colossal vagina.
"Oh, oh, ohmigod. Heeheehee!" she shrieked, writhing about like a harpooned whale. Her breasts, as large and unmuscled as cow udders, flopped against the carpet as she rolled about in a paroxysm of delight. Neubarth saw Ted Rhadaman standing off to the side, looking down upon the active spectacle of Beatrice's volcanically shaking body, while his arm was wound around the naked form of a woman next to him. Neubarth's vision blurred, and when things became clear again, he saw that the woman was Louise, and that her eyes were as blank as they had been at the card table earlier in the evening. She was looking down at Beatrice in rapt attention, but small moans came from her throat — the result of Rhadaman's caressing hand upon her flaccid left breast.
A rage overpowered Neubarth's drunken insensibility, and he moved in towards the tall, red-haired youth and the acquiescent Louise with his fists cocked and physical mayhem in his mind.
"You bastard!" he shouted, and rushed forward, though not having bothered to look down, his progress was soon interrupted as he struck his foot against Beatrice's widespread legs and fell on his face. At almost the same moment, someone reactivated the long-dormant phonograph, and the voice of a blues singer screeched out into the room at full volume. The sudden profusion of noise was accentuated by Beatrice's cries of "Do it to me! Do it! Do it!" She reached towards Harry, who squirmed away from her clutch, and then grabbed Neubarth, who was just climbing painfully to his knees. One look at Beatrice's perspiring, puffy face, and Neubarth scooted rapidly away too.
"A bunch punch! We're going to have a bunch punch over here!" someone yelled, and Beatrice, hearing the cry, readily proclaimed her enthusiasm for the idea by screaming, "Oh yes! I want all of you!" She tore at her groin, managed to drive three fingers deep into the dripping opening, and began to bounce around even more energetically than before.
Neubarth looked towards the knoll of quaking gelatin, and felt a revulsion that was stronger than his drunkenness and his general lust. There was a voice in his ear: "Why don't you be the first, Professor?" It was Rhadaman's voice, and Neubarth, turning to see him, barely had time to shout "No!" before someone grabbed him by the feet and pulled him onto his belly. His shorts were stripped off and he was lifted by several hands, and deposited, amid booming laughter, upon Beatrice's frantically pulsating form. She quickly grabbed his head and brought his lips down onto her own. Her teeth grated against his, and her tongue jammed up against the roof of his mouth. His partly rigid penis slipped into her vagina as neatly as into a greased funnel, and she began to move her gross body as if she were having a fit, shouting obscenities all the while into Neubarth's face. It was like riding a mad hippopotamus. Neubarth could only try to hang on tightly, knowing that any reciprocal movement on his part would be totally extraneous. It went on and on, until the music, the shouts and laughter, were all erased by the guttural gaspings against his ear. He imagined himself in a tiny raft, repeatedly being buffeted by a monstrous sea, and then suddenly, the storm passed, and he was thrown backward, then clutched by a pair of hands and thrown onto the floor.
He lay with his face against the carpet for a few minutes, waiting for his exhaustion to pass. Presently he looked up to see that someone else had taken his place between Beatrice's kicking legs. It appeared to be a boy. His body was ridiculously dwarfed by the massive areas of shaking flab beneath him, and his fingers pressed tightly into the gigantic sacks of flesh that were her breasts. The boy expired quickly. His body went limp, though Beatrice continued to jerk her hips even after he was through. More men followed, one after another, and Neubarth found that the sexual exhibition was beginning to interest him. He sat up, though he had to remain very still for a moment in deference to a pounding headache, and accepted a hand-rolled cigarette from a grinning young man who looked unfamiliar.
Though he was aware that the cigarette could only be marijuana, Neubarth sucked at it powerfully, feeling the sweet smoke cascade into his lungs and instantly bring a feeling of well-being to his dimmed senses. Perhaps the exponents of this narcotic are right, he thought. Perhaps it is not habit-forming. He suddenly thought of Ted Rhadaman and Louise. He looked for them, but they were nowhere in sight. They are probably all right, he reasoned. He had completely forgotten his former anger at Rhadaman's apparent beginning sexual intimacy with his wife. The world about him mellowed into a placid and euphoric pageant. He became intensely aware of the broad spectrum of colors in the smoke-clouded room, and he sat telling himself little one-line jokes, at which he laughed deliriously.
Louise came up beside him, and squatted down, still stark naked, beside him. Neubarth looked at her and smiled pleasantly, not hearing something she said. The blankness of her expression did not seem to him unusual. He stroked the long line of her bent thigh. She responded by running her hand over the mound of his stomach and down to his limp penis, which she fastened her hand around and jerked slowly. She fingered his scrotum, which contracted at her touch, and deep within him desire lifted its head again. Louise put something in his hand. He looked down to see two tiny yellow pills, both of which he popped into his mouth and swallowed without a moment's hesitation. Louise got up and moved past him toward Beatrice's sweating body.
The heavy woman seemed to be showing no lack of energy in her sexual endeavors. Another man was atop her, striving mightily to release himself within the overlarge cavity between her legs. Finally he shuddered violently and groaned several times like the mechanical voice of a child's doll. Beatrice threw him aside as if he were indeed a doll, and as he lay there breathing heavily, Neubarth saw that it was the businessman that he had ejected from the side of the young nude girl earlier in the evening.
Louise now stood between the outstretched thighs of Beatrice Holman, looking down upon that active hill of blubber. She began to sway in time to the music, and the lax globes of her buttocks tensed up into a semblance of youthful firmness. Beatrice began to bump up and down with her obese buttocks, and Neubarth could see the immense hole at her groin contract slightly and then yawn open again as she moved. Shining rivulets of dried and fresh semen, like snails' tracks, ran down onto her bouncing rump and matted the little cluster of hairs around her anus. Her pubic bush looked like pale horse hair, so gnarled and packed had it become from the continual deposits of various ejaculations and from the sweat of her own huge body and that of others. Louise sat down at Beatrice's side and ran her hand into the dense and twisted shrubbery. She twisted the clumps of hair between her fingers, disengaging them from each other, and then bent over and pressed her mouth against the puckered depression of Beatrice's navel. Her tongue darted out and stabbed into the dark crater, then moving her head down, she let her tongue run slowly downwards, leaving a wet path, toward the frontiers of Mrs. Holman's pubis. She nibbled at the coarse hair as her mouth reached it, but still continued to slide further down. Her tongue reached the stretched outer lips, and, as it did, Louise lifted her body and spread her legs out on each side of Beatrice's face.
Neubarth saw the fat woman's eager mouth pry up between the thighs, and her head and neck immediately begin to move convulsively.
Meanwhile, Louise had gained access to the soaked recess against which her face pressed. Her pink tongue snaked into the open grotto and ran along the glistening inner lips, then up to the small bulge of the clitoris. She tweaked it dexterously with her long tongue, and continued to do so as Beatrice's muffled groans rose in volume. Now Louise was making little sounds, too, panting them out past her frenzied tongue, and into the great slick-sided cavern of Beatrice Holman's vagina. They rocked back and forth upon the fatty cradle of Beatrice's back like a grotesque teeter-totter.
As Neubarth sat watching, the bodies of the two women grew indistinct, becoming finally only a wildly active pink blur. Their ecstatic cries blended with the music, and eventually, both of these sounds began to seem to him like a monotonic musical arrangement repeated endlessly. He fell over onto his side and went to sleep.