Chapter 4

The Honorable Clayton Fairfax had agreed to come to the penthouse under what he considered false pretenses. Once he was there, he protested in a high-pitched, almost falsetto voice. The girl who invited him sat unperturbed at his side. Now and then she'd raise her eyebrows at him and say, "Shh".

"But I tell you, I don't go in for this kind of thing. I'm a married man, in the first place, and I'm a judge. What would people think if...."

"I know," murmured the wholesome-looking girl who had suckered him into coming up to the smoker. "A judge from Nebraska. Christ. And I thought I had a live one. Why don't you just let yourself go, Clayton, honey? Enjoy the show." She took her hand off the knitting she held in her lap and grasped the growing bulge between his legs. "You are enjoying the show. You've got a king-size hard-on or I never saw a king-size hard-on."

"Stop that!" His Honor looked around the big room. It was very dark in there, and the small man told himself to count his blessings. He started to remove the girl's hand from his cock but it felt so good-and it was pretty dark in the room, after all-and all the rest of the men were judges, too and he didn't really know any of them-

The girl unzipped his pants and the delicious shock of her bare hand on his throbbing cock made short shrift of any further protests. He was guiltily glad that she'd put her knitting down. It was the knitting that threw him. Clayton Fairfax hadn't thought a girl who went around carrying a knitting bag, which she took out in public and actually worked at, would be a bad girl. But bad girl she was and he knew it, but with that hand massaging so sweetly up and down his cock it didn't seem so important. He hoped he wouldn't come in her hand. But the tableau on that makeshift stage up there at the end of the big room wasn't doing much to calm his passion. He swallowed, noticing that he was not only drooling, but his tongue was hanging out as he watched the two girls going at each other with such abandon. He knew where he was. It was a girlie show. He'd heard of such things, but thank God they didn't have that kind of problem back home in Fairhaven County. The girl bent over and touched his cock with her lips. He felt the wetness of her mouth, the heat of her breath, the sudden sweetness of her tongue as she began licking all up and down the length of it.

"Oh, my God in heaven" he breathed in a near-whisper as he shut his eyes and groaned in mad ecstasy. "If Alma June knew about this she'd kill me. And motherdear!" The horrible idea of his mother finding out almost lost his erection for him. But not quite.

That girl certainly knew how to make a man feel good, he thought as he humped wildly and drove his cock deeper into her hot mouth. He felt lost in a cesspool of wickedness and to his shame he found it wonderful. Part of his mind told him to yank his thumping, driving cock right out of that awful woman's mouth, to remove the hand from his balls where it cupped and squeezed so tenderly, and force her other one off his staff. It was milking him just as surely as he milked the cows back home, and it was a terrible, evil thing he was allowing to happen to him. But that mouth! That hot, sweet, wet, wildly working mouthl His senses sizzled and his ears rang. Now and then he opened his tightly shut eyes to take another look at the filthy practices taking place up there on stage. But mostly he felt himself torn between the delectable pull of that girl's charming lips on his cock and the fear of being found out.

Another frightened, guilty look all around made him feel more secure. Other men, judges every one of them, were having the same thing done to them everywhere he looked. "Uhh," he breathed. "Oh, God, God, God, I can't take much more of that." She had both hands on his staff and every stroke she took downwards brought him closer to the brink of spilling into her mouth. Such a notion was shocking, against the moral principles he'd been brought up to believe and embraced for himself as he grew into manhood.

Up on the stage the two girls were flailing about with abandon. They made sickeningly suggestive sounds through their noses and mouths as they tongued and sucked each other down there where Clayton Fairfax believed nothing but a man's penis should ever touch (except for soap and water)-and then only in a state of holy wedlock for the purpose of procreation.

But the quick look at those writhing, undulating, erotic female bodies locked in forbidden sexual embrace caused his cock to leap even deeper into the girl's mouth. "Oh, dear," exclaimed the Honorable Clayton Fairfax. "Oh, mercy me!" With his two hands he tried, yes, he did, he honestly tried to push her head away. He could feel his sperm roiling around getting ready to surge forth into a tremendous orgasm, and to come into a woman's mouth was-well, it was just awful, that was what! He wondered if she knew what she was doing, if she were aware of the effect she had on him when she all but swallowed his penis like that, all the way to his balls!

"Oh, God," he yelled, and gave in to the insane drive to spend. "I can't help it," he screamed as he shot a wad down deep into her throat. "Oh, God help me!"

For what seemed an eternity afterwards, he reveled shamelessly in the aftershock while his hips kept humping and his body trembled mightily. In the distance, at the time seeming like at least a mile away, he heard a male voice speaking derisively. "Look at that mammy-jabbin' sumbitch, Sam! Looks like a dog shittin' razor blades! Ain't that some kind of action for a Sunday School tea-chin' judge from Nebraska? You owe me fifty bucks, judge."

Forever afterwards, those words would come back to haunt Clayton Fairfax, along with the accompanying brilliance of what he recognized as a number of flash bulbs. He died a hundred deaths each day as he went about his civic duties in Nebraska. Like when the mail was delivered to home or office, when the telephone rang, whenever a stranger appeared in the little town where he meted out justice. Moments later, when the girl had efficiently wiped off his shriveled cock and tucked it back inside his pants, when she'd put out her hand and said that'd be twenty-five dollars, when he was paying her with the speed of lightning and looking around for an exit, he was visited with a premonition of the future, and those thousands of deaths he would endure. And he said, "You-you-you don't think anybody'll try to blackmail me later on, do you?"

"Nah," she answered with a careless toss of her pretty blonde head. "No way. There's always a few guys in any party like this who want to take a few pictures. Don't worry about a thing, judge."

"I-I-I-I'm going to have to go back to the hotel, Gloria." He stood up, made sure his pants were all zippered up and walked on rubbery legs, wondering if he ought to thank her or revile her. "It was-" his adam's apple bobbed up and down as he looked down on her, remembering how lady-like she'd appeared when he first met her. "Very nice," he said feebly. "But-"

"But what, honey?" She looked up at him with big blue eyes.

Nervously, he tried not to notice the blob of white sticky stuff on her chin, thinking it would be impolite to call attention to a drop of come she'd neglected to wipe off.

"Nothing," he said with a quick gulp and a fast turn on his feet that headed him toward the door.

He wanted to get back to his own hotel very quickly, where he would get down on his hands and knees and pray for forgiveness. Then he would put in a long-distance call to Alma June and tell her how much he missed her. Maybe he would even call motherdear. But as he walked along the dismal streets of New York his mind kept going back over the mind-boggling experience and he found himself wishing that Alma June could be-well, not like that dreadful young harlot, certainly!-but more affectionate. She'd never touched his penis, something he'd wanted very often. He didn't think it could be considered wicked if a couple were married. She'd never come to bed without a nightgown on, and during the fifteen years they'd been married he'd only seen her naked one time. That was when she fell getting out of the bathtub and broke her ankle, which wasn't the way he'd have preferred seeing her naked.

Those were base desires. He knew it, but just the same, he kept thinking about what was going on back there in that penthouse in the other hotel, and a part of his mind wanted to return so much that he made the wrong turn and found himself right back in the doorway of it. Praying for strength, he put his feet on the proper path.

Back at the penthouse, the action increased. Gloria moved in on the two men who had been instrumental in setting things up with her and Judge Clayton Fairfax. "You bastards oughta be ashamed of yourselves. That poor little guy was about to cry."

The Honorable Milton Morrison from Mississippi laughed. "Did him good. A man shouldn't hafta go through life without knowin' how good it is to get a blow job, baby. That poor bastard has got the kind of wife you'd expect. I reckon they deserve each other. He told me, and I believe it, that him and her was both virgins when they got married. I said oh, shit, now, there ain't no virgins, especially men, and he swore he was too, that they both was. Started out in life to be a preacher. Went to the seminary for a year and came home one summer a nervous wreck. Seems some of his fellow students went in for masturbation and even bragged about it. Did it in groups. I reckon they was kind of into psychology. Hell! It never took no psychology for me to learn how sweet it is to whang off back when I was a kid and couldn't get no pussy. I started doin' it when I was about seven. I came right out and asked Clayton. I said, goddamit, man, you gone stand right there and tell me you never pulled your meat any? He kind of flushed and admitted he'd done it a few times, but his mother caught him and throwed such a fit he quit. Calls her motherdear. Looked plumb self-righteous when he told me he was proud to say he'd never even looked lustfully at another woman since he got married. I knowed all along the little fool was lyin'. Lyin' to himself, which is the very worst kinda liar, but hell, he cain't he'p it. I said to him, man, what the hell you think that pecker of your'n is for if it ain't to get pleasurin' out of; but he just gave me that sorrowful look of his and didn't answer. You know, I had a brother who went to the seminary. Turned out to be a right smart preacher, too. But talk about horny! I reckon a man like poor old Clayton-seein' young men doin' what he'd been taught all his life long to deny, well, no wonder he had a nervous breakdown and turned to studyin' law." Morrison jammed his cigar back into his mouth and looked at Gloria shrewdly. "He pay you all right, honey?"

"No. And I didn't have the heart to insist. I think you men are terrible."

"Oh, shit, now," answered Judge Milton Morrison. "Whoever heard tell of a whore with notions like that? Here." He gave her five dollars and turned to Magistrate Sam Cronkite III, his fellow conspirator in the seduction of Clayton Fairfax. "Give Gloria five bucks, you fool. Gloria done turned into-that storybook creature, a whore with a heart of gold. Couldn't bring herself to ask Judge Fairfax to pay her."

Cronkite gave the girl a five-dollar bill. "It was worth it to see that little fella get his rocks off good and proper for once in his life. I bet he shot you a wad big enough to make you shoke, Gloria."

"I usually charge twenty-five for a whole hour," she said with a sweet smile on her pretty face.

"Well, you suck my cock for me the way you did for Clayton and I'll give you twenty-five more," said Cronkite. "That five bucks was just a gesture of my appreciation for what you did for your fellow man."

Gloria hesitated. She preferred to look around in the smoke-filled room for another mark, and there were plenty available. Cronkite lived close by. He'd been her trick before and she knew it took a lot of work to get him off. But a bird in the hand-she compromised by telling him she'd be right back, she had to go to the rest room. That way, she'd have him standing by while she looked around for easier work. She wished Alice would bring on another act. It had been several minutes since the two girls slumped to the floor to rest a bit after their act that culminated in multiple orgasms-or what appeared to be multiple orgasms.

A glance at her watch told Gloria the night was still young. Counting the extra ten she'd picked up from the Johns who set her up with the little guy, she'd already made sixty dollars, and she wasn't going to mention that ten to Jimmie, either, the bastard. She might not mention that first trick, come to think of it, because she hadn't made the first twenty-five in the penthouse apartment, and she was getting sick and tired of the high-handed way Jimmie had been treating her lately.

As she wended her way through the crowded room, Gloria considered, possibly for the tenth time that day, breaking it off with Jimmie. Back in the days when she was on her own she hadn't made as much as she did under Jimmie's protection, because he had all kinds of contacts and ins with everybody that counted-but just the same, she still felt used. Goddammit, she thought, as she turned a bright smile on an old judge whose name tag said he was from Texas, it's my body. Why should I give Jimmie a percentage, anyway?

The Texan had snow-white hair. Tufts of it grew out of his nose and ears. "Hello, honey, you look lonesome," she said. "You want a little company?" When they got that old they weren't much to Gloria's taste, because the old-man smell made her gag sometimes, but coming from Texas and all, she figured he'd probably be loaded. "Where you from in Texas, Mr. Waldecamp?"

"Dallas," he answered dourly.

"Why, you don't even have a drink. It's empty! Why don't I run over to the bar and get you a fresh one?" Her smile grew wider, because men from Dallas gave the very finest pay. He agreed that it'd be nice for her to bring him a fresh scotch, and her thoughts returned to Jimmie, the pimp, wondering if she could get by with another trick on her own. She hoped the Texan would spring for fifty.

Jimmie was at the bar. He gave her a quick smile that chilled her to the bone because of what she'd been thinking. Working the streets in New York just wasn't the way it had been back home in Detroit, she thought in sorrow as she asked the bartender for a scotch and water.

"That's not for you, is it?" Jimmie kept his voice low, but it penetrated Gloria's ears and seemed to shove a shiver into her heart.

"No, of course not, Jimmie. It's for that old judge over there." She inclined her head in the direction of the old man. "Damn it all, Jimmie, you watch me like a hawk. Anybody'd think I was an alcoholic or something."

"It's not that I think you're an alcoholic, Gloria, it's just that you don't do as well when you've got a few drinks under your belt as when you're sober." He smiled again. "Everything all right?"

She nodded. "Yes, fine. One here, one before I arrived and an extra ten, as a kind of tip."

He gave her a brotherly pat on the shoulder.

As she was trying to get back to the Texas judge, Gloria's hands were shaking. Marline, who lived in the apartment across the hall from her, and also belonged to Jimmie's stable, gave her an appraising look. "You're white as a ghost."

"I saw somebody who reminded me of one of those men I told you about when I first came to New York," she lied. "It was just a resemblance, but-you know. It kind of got to me."

"You stick with Jimmie, Gloria. It don't set so hot with you to have to give him his take, but Jesus! Your tits are the only ones you've got."

Sometimes Gloria could still feel the excruciating pain in her left breast even though the doctor who sewed it up after the carve-job said it was fine. Shortly after she had started working the New York turf she found out about territory. The wound required seventeen stitches and her nipple still didn't look just right, since it tended to lop sideways. The doctor had done a good job, but the nipple had been almost completely severed. Yes, Marlene was right. Jimmie wasn't so bad, when she stopped to reconsider. He never hit any of his girls or anything like that unless he was living with them, and she'd already been initiated. What bothered her was the threat that he might do something to her if she tried to fuck him over.

A chill raced up and down Gloria's spine. But with her chin up and her ass swaying, her tits making little seductive bounces with each step, she headed toward the Texas judge who was eyeing her with a leer, the drink Marlene had left with him in his hand.

"How much you going to charge me to take care of me, doll?"

"I was thinking fifty," she said sweetly.

"Just to go down on me? I heard the going price was twenty-five at this party."

"But I was thinking fifty anyway. It doesn't hurt to dream a little, does it?"

Sighing, she sat down beside the old judge and hoped it wouldn't take forever and a day.

"You know, I'd have that big-assed nigger drawn and quartered if he came down to Kickingcreek County and tried that kind of a shennanigan with one of our gals," said Judge Waldecamp.

"Yes, well ... it's just part of the act," said Gloria. "Marlene doesn't mean anythinp personal."

The judge cleared his throat. "Looks pretty damn personal to me." He eyed his drink. "About as damn personal as she can get, the way she's rubbin' her snatch up against that big black prick. Wonder if she'd been back there in one of those rooms pumpin' him up before she brought me my drink? Goddam! Just thinkin' about it's enough to gag me."

"No, no," said Gloria. "Nobody has to pump Billy-Boy up. He stays hard all the time unless he just went off."

"How you know, gal? You ever fuck a nigger?"

"Oh, no, sir! I wouldn't dream of such a thing."

"Ever suck one of them big black pricks?" The judge looked angry enough to bite a nail in two. "Never sucked one of them lick'rish sticks, sure enough?"

"No, sir. I never did and I won't ever, either."

"Well, I sure-Lord wouldn't want to think you did, when you're gettin' ready to suck mine." He made another awful harrumping sound and brought a big glob of phlegm down into his mouth, where he wallowed it around, in his mouth while he talked. "You know, if I was a judge up here in New York, I'd clean house good and proper. We don't have any whores in my county. Don't have any performances like this taking place in a hotel room, either. Isn't there a law against people doin' these things in public here in New York City?"

"Yes, but-people seem to like to see-" She reached for his cock. Took it out of his pants and looked at it without enthusiasm. It was very long, but stringy and flabby, no bigger around than her thumb.

He gave her a grin and pinched her titty until it hurt. "Got me a big prick, all right. Bigger than that big black buck has got, once it gets good and hard." She looked into his eyes and saw that they were hard and glinted with meanness. Back underneath was something else, though. She thought it might be self-contempt.

On the makeshift stage, Marlene dry-fucked against Billy-Boy's lean and sinewy thighs. She was of average height, but Billy-Boy was over six and a half feet tall. The audience made sounds of approval except for a few who catcalled or booed. Gloria's old man made a disgusted sound down deep in his throat, but his cock hardened as Marlene humped faster against Billy-Boy.

Marlene jiggled and swayed. The tape began to play a mood piece with a lot of jungle drums. Billy-Boy picked her up and turned her around so her back faced him. Then he forced her to the floor of the stage, his eleven inches sticking straight out in front of him, appearing as big as a baseball bat. Except for an undertaker from around Kankakee, Illinois, that Gloria had met when she worked an Undertakers' Convention in Detroit, she'd never seen anyone hung like Billy-Boy. She often thought about the undertaker, who took out his billfold after she'd given him a blow job that almost strangled her, to show off his family pictures. His wife looked small and dainty, with light brown hair and a pale complexion. All the children had red hair like the undertaker, so she supposed they were his, and she'd asked him how he managed to have sex with his wife. He said he didn't put it all the way in.

Billy-Boy's long, artistic hands pulled Marlene's ass-cheeks apart. He grinned as he appeared to admire her anus. His cock looked bigger than ever when he shoved it under her pussy, slid it back and forth against her slit while she rode back and forth on it. The glans and at least five inches appeared and disappeared from between the front of Marlene's legs as he slid it back and forth.

"Fucking savage," muttered the Honorable Waldo Waldecamp. "He's not going to put that thing in her ass?" He said it because Billy-Boy had his massive dork in his hand and appeared to be aiming it at Marlene's rear end.

"No, that's just part of the act," said Gloria.

"It'd split her in two. No normal woman could accept that," said the judge. "She's not very big, either." Waldo was panting, and his cock was hard as a rock. Gloria bent down and took it in her mouth, trying not to notice the rancid smell that came from between the folds of his flesh. Under her fingers, and with the visual aid of Marlene and Billy-Boy, he'd reached full erection. Although his cock had appeared quite long when it was soft, it hadn't grown any bigger, except in circumference. Now it was as big around as two of Gloria's thumbs put together, maybe three inches long. She wondered a little at the oddities of nature and started skillfully manipulating his balls and cock, at the same time applying a growing pressure with her vacuum mouth.

"Bet that black son of a bitch doesn't have a bit of holding power," the Texan said nastily as Billy-Boy drove his tool deep within the quivering walls of Marlene's channel. "I'm a sixty-minute man, myself."

Gloria sighed. She hoped not. Out of the corner of her eyes she watched Marlene's pussy suck up every inch of Billy-Boy's outsized equipment, and appreciated the way the girl gave the impression that she'd just love to have a little more. There was something very beautiful about seeing black on white that way, especially with Marlene on her hands and knees. That happened to be Gloria's favorite position when she was fucking a man. It made her pussy twitch and a little juice came rushing out between her legs to watch it. Of course, what she really liked was to have a girl giving it to her that way, a girl with a dildo strapped on, but not a very big one. She adored feeling another woman's breasts so soft and lush against her back, went crazy with pleasure when a woman's hand worked over her clit, the other one pulling at her tits. But she could appreciate what was taking place up there because of the sheer animal lust and beauty.

Just then the old judge, the "sixty-minute man" who had said Billy-Boy wouldn't have any holding power, went off in her mouth.

Pleased, Gloria went about the business of appearing to swallow it right down with relish, but of course she never did. Instead she held it in her mouth until she could see a chance to spit it out in Kleenex. Usually she was able to get away with pretending she'd swallowed it. If there was anything that made her sick, it was a man's come.

The old gentleman paid without grumbling and gave her a five-dollar tip. She told him how much she appreciated having met him and excused herself. Then, after she'd gotten rid of his load on the sly, she turned to him, kissed his old leathery cheek and told him she'd just loved taking care of him, that some day she'd like to spend some time with him just for fun.

He flushed with pleasure while she walked slowly back toward the bedroom where Hobo was waiting.

PART TWO Political Conventions