Chapter 2
RITA STACKED THE LAST OF THE HOTDOG buns in the steamer and measured the remaining snow cone ice with a practiced glance. It looked like there'd be enough supplies to last out the half time rush and maybe to get through Ron's second half ... no more. They'd cut it close today. They'd probably gross well over two hundred dollars and the custodian's fee and the referees' would only be about a hundred and fifty dollars. They'd paid for the supplies already; it ought to be a profitable day.
She glanced out through the wire mesh at the line. There was Ted with Cora. Damned bleached blonde. She spoiled things ... too greedy ... couldn't look at a man without wanting him in her pants ... Rita wondered if Cora really was a nympho, as Ted suspected. She'd been eager enough when the swap idea had come up; she'd pushed it harder than any of the men-and certainly harder than Rita or Elsie Ross.
But anyone who shacked up with Al could understand how Cora might like to try someone else. Al was all right, maybe, but he sure wasn't inspiring in bed. He made love like he ate-meat and potatoes, with all the juice cooked out of them. Still, he was sweet and funny as a coach and was a lot better this way than wondering if Ted was sneaking off for a little on the side.
She shook her head. It tore her up inside every time they got started-watching Ted feeling someone else up until he had whoever it was hot enough to scream-going off with some man she didn't really have any desire for and letting him have her while she imagined what Ted was doing to the other woman.
Ted reached the window and Rita looked past him at Cora. She tensed and felt her palms go clammy. Cora had just been hid. It was written in her sleepy, satisfied expression. Goddamn the woman! They weren't supposed to go off and do it by themselves that way? Only when both couples were together!
"How about a hot dog, honey?" asked Ted. And one for Cora and a couple of cups of coffee."
Rita turned to the steamer without speaking. She made up the hot dogs and drew the coffee and took Ted's money.
"Learn anything about Ron's strategy?" she asked.
"He's drilled precision into those kids," said Ted. "Team's a machine!"
"We won't have much to haul out of here after the game, Ted. We're going to be sold out."
"Good! That's what I call planning. Hey, hon, have you seen Bill or Elsie?"
What's the matter, thought Rita. Now that you've had Cora do you need a piece from Elsie, too, before we go home? She nodded. "They came by in the middle of the first quarter and said they were leaving. They were going to stop in to see if Al was over his wad yet."
"Oh. Okay. Well, I'll see you after the game, sugar. He and Cora moved away from the window.
Oh, Ted! Rita cried inside. What's going to hap pen to us? Why can't we just get away from everything for a white and screw ourselves out-like we did in those months before the kids started coming? But she knew the answer before she asked the question. It was the kids-and the money. You didn't go off for weeks-or even days-by yourself with three lads in the house and no money for someone to take care of them. Maybe you didn't even then if you cared about them and wanted them to grow up decent people.
Instead, you worked your head off in the activities they took an interest in. You knocked yourself out for them and with them so you d all have something in common. You decided it was worth it when the kids down the street got picked up for being on dope or joy-riding in someone else's car while your own were in bed asleep because they had to stay in training.
But you sat and looked at the same walls night after night-and the same stupid non-programs on TV-and sweated the budget and avoided the dentist if you saw him on the street. And you wondered where the world was going without you. You got close to the other parents who were doing the same things for the same reasons. Maybe you got close because you were too buried in Little League and Pop Warner and Junior Hockey to meet anyone else-or even to have anything to talk with them about.
Sex came up. With the papers and the movies and TV and the politicians and sociologists homing in on it the way they were, it had to come up. You talked about it and you talked about Victory an prudery and how it had turned the best things in life dirty. Sooner or later, that had to lead to personal philosophies and the separation between physical sex and "love" as if someone had suddenly discovered a great chasm dividing two plateaus.
Being as close as you got in this day-night whirl of football-and baseball and hockey-you'd all spent more than enough nights smashed and done more than a little concentrated necking with the other two coaches. You knew them better than just anyone. And somehow it got around to sex freedom among very close friends.
The line had melted away. Rita heard the referee's whistle and knew that the game was going again. She looked round at the nearly empty racks and let herself brood. She remembered that first time far too clearly. The worst of it was that it had been in her own home. Ted Jr. and Kathy and little George had been at Grandma's for the week end. Ted had just been accepted as head coach for the Raiders and Al Sharp had agreed to coach the line for him and Bill Ross the backs. So they'd gone out to celebrate and had come back to the Browns' half smashed at about one. The snack bar faded out and she could feel the heat of that night.
"Christ, it's hot!" Bill had commented. Only the words had been thick from the drinks.
"S'hot," Cora agreed. "S'too goddam hot for a sweater."
"Yeah! What th' hell didja wear a sweater for?" asked Al.
"Dunno. Can't remember." And Cora fumbled with the buttons. She looked at the others as she struggled. "Dunno 'bout you, but I'm not gonna sit here an' sweat."
She turned to Bill Ross and blinked. "Yer no gen'lman," she said. "Why'n'tcha putcher drink down and help a lady!"
"Why not?" He'd set his drink aside and added the confusion of his fumbling to hers.
It looked to Rita like he wasn't really after the sweater buttons. Apparently, Cora didn't think so, either.
"Jesus Christ!" she muttered. "If ya unbutton my tits, my guts'll fall out!"
Coming from Cora, it sounded terribly funny. Even Rita had to join in the laughter. And it fractured Al.
"I been tryin' for years to get 'em unbuttoned," he announced. "Prize to anyone't c'n do it."
So Cora had plenty of help getting out of her sweater and you couldn't really expect to get her tits unbuttoned while she still had her bra on. Cora was getting hysterical. It was the funniest thing she'd ever seen.
"I know something they don't!" she called out to Rita. "There's no buttonholes!" She leaned forward while they tugged at the bra hooks, then pulled her arms out of the straps and flung herself back ward on the sofa.
"Go ahead!" she challenged. "Try!"
Ted and Bill each concentrated on one side, not without considerable argument over which belonged to whom. Cora writhed and shrieked with laughter, kicking her feet in the air until her skirt hung across her abdomen, leaving her hips fully exposed.
"God! I'm hotter now than I was before I got that damn sweater off!" exclaimed Cora.
"S'different," Al observed. "Different kinda hot."
Bill reached down with his free hand and felt Cora's bottom. Her hips lashed to the side, sliding her crotch under the caress.
"See?" asked Al. "What'd I tell ya?"
Bill laughed. Rita looked at Elsie. Elsie was either terribly drunk or terribly hurt. She had her head down, but she was watching Bill through her lowered lashes and there were tears hanging on them. The tears startled Rita. Somehow she'd never visualized Elsie as the kind who even had tear ducts. With that chic, piled-up, frosted hair and her reserved manner and her lady's bearing, you just didn't think of the possibility that she could cry.
"That's not the kinda hot ya get rid of in a cold shower," Al said. "What the hell didja have to get her all worked up for? I'm too goddamn drunk to do her any good!"
"The hell you are!" Cora bounced and panted. "S'good thing we're all buddies! I'd hate to be this drunk with anyone I didn't know!" She clawed at Ted and Bill. "I dunno 'bout Al, but someone's gotta cool me off!"
Al chuckled and belched. "You got them tits un buttoned yet, you guys?" he asked.
"Hell no! Can't find no buttonhole!" Bill shook his head in disgust.
"Buttonhole lost? Well, how the hell ya expect to unbutton 'em if ya can't find the buttonhole? Sonovabitch must be on 'er somewhere!" Al lurched to his feet and weaved his way to the bar for a refill. " 'S up t'you, Bill. You started it."
Bill and Ted pulled Cora upright and turned her from side to side, examining her.
"Here it is!" yelled Bill, peeking inside the waist of her skirt. Then, "Aw, hell! That's just her belly button." He studied her. "Must be somewhere else," he said. "C'mon, she's got it covered up." He unfastened her skirt and began to pull it off over her hips.
Cora twisted and pushed at his hands. "Go any further," she threatened, "and you gotta finish it!"
Bill hesitated. "Hm," he said.
"Why not!" Al demanded. "What else are friends for? Isn't that right!" He turned to Elsie and Rita with an owlish squint.
Rita looked at Elsie again. Elsie tilted her glass up and drained it. She'd been icy cool when they talked theory, Rita recalled. Maybe it was different in the flesh-Cora's plump flesh and Bill's bulk.
"I guess it is." It sounded to Rita like the words were choking Elsie. "Is it, Bill?" she asked.
Bill glanced over his shoulder at his wife. "We said it was," he said. "I guess we all agreed it was when it was for fun among friends."
"For cat's sake, stop talking about it and do it!" Cora wiggled her half-bared bottom.
Bill worked her skirt and panties down, exposing mousy brown hair that looked out of place in contrast to the platinum sheen on her head.
Rita watched Elsie blink, jarring the tears loose and set her jaw.
"Bill can find the buttonhole if it's there, Ted." Elsie said. She stood up, swayed and grabbed for support.
Ted abandoned Cora and caught Elsie. She leaned against him and turned up her face. Ted bent over her and kissed her-a light kiss.
"Is that all you want from me, Ted?"
He grinned and ran his hand down her front, letting it linger on her breast and again on her lower abdomen. Elsie was a different woman from Cora, Rita thought. Cora was the skirt and sweater type, whatever the occasion. Elsie was smart chic. Tonight, it was a fitted, button down the back dress that must have cost sixty dollars. She might have gotten it at half price in a sale-Elsie was a good shopper that way-but it hadn't been made to sell for less than sixty. And she wore hose and heels and jewelry-not much, but enough to look like she could afford to be out for the evening.
"Brr-r-r!" Elsie shivered. "Do that again! It gives me gooseflesh!"
Ted did it again. Rita realized suddenly what was going to happen. Bill was already half un dressed, with Cora helping him as she panted for him. They'd wind up in a tangle on the sofa. Ted was going to have Elsie; she had to match Bill's performance, no matter how much it hurt and Ted wasn't going to have what it took to steer her to Al. He was going to lay Elsie. And as Rita glanced across at Al, she saw him eyeing her with awakening speculation.
God, no! Tonight, for the first time in her life, someone besides Ted was going to make love to her! Before this was over, Al was going to be on top of her, driving himself into her and panting and slobbering on her! She cringed and fought off the nausea. If it was what Ted wanted ...
She couldn't catch Ted's eye. He was leading Elsie to the love seat and she was walking with the same poise she showed when she presided at the auxiliary's board meetings She was dead sober all at once, Rita recognized. Elsie was dead sober and fully conscious of what she was doing.
At the love seat, Elsie let Ted get settled, then sank into her arms. She leaned across him, making it look as if it were she who was making love, rather than he. And she rocked her head from side to side as they kissed, making it the kind of contact that too often got lost while the kids were growing up. Ted's hands stroked Elsie as they would a cat, but at last he felt for the hem of her dress and slid his fingers under it on her nylons. Rita watched the lump move hipward under the tight knit, until it cupped over one buttock and then saw it work its way over the thigh and disappear. She clenched her fists on the arms of her chair and tried to breathe. It hurt worse than she'd thought possible to see Ted doing this with another woman.
Elsie pulled away from Ted and stood. "Unbutton me," she told him.
Ted rose to his feet and started with the top button. When he finished, the dress gaped from neckline to mid-buttocks.
"Unfasten my bra while you're at it," Elsie directed.
Ted tugged at the back-strap and the hooks gave, letting the straps hang out over the parted edges of the dress. Elsie leaned forward and slipped the shoulders of her dress-and her bra shoulder strap-out onto her arms. She drew her arms out of the clothes and allowed them to fall. Her bra landed on the love seat; the dress hung from her hips, draped gently. She pushed it and her half-slip slowly down her legs and stepped out of them. Rita bit her lip as Elsie turned toward her. The woman's hips were those of a teen-ager slim almost to the point of being boyish-and she wore no girdle. Instead, her nylons were pantyhose and she wore sheer briefs over them. From the waist up, she was nude. Her breasts were white-she'd shielded them from the sun-but the rest was a soft tan. Only her bracelets and a pearl choker and pearl earrings broke the lines of her flesh. Her nipples were darker than Rita had expected-almost as dark as her own-and small, rather than her own finger-sized kind. Rita wondered how they affected Ted.
"Do you want to finish undressing me now, or after you've got your own clothes off?" Elsie asked Ted.
Ted stood back and surveyed her. "Now." He stepped forward and carefully removed her pan ties, leaving her standing in her sheer pantyhose and high heels. He was breathing hard as he knelt to take her shoes from her feet.
He'll put a run in those damn hose, thought Rita. He has every time he's taken mine off. But he made a valiant effort, rolling them down by inter minable degrees, so that Elsie came into view by fractions of an inch, like a statue being stripped of its protective burlap. The hair where Elsie's thighs joined was dark and thick and the white strip across her hips showed that she sunbathed in the briefest bikinis, covering less than an inch at the sides.
Elsie curled her legs under her when she sat back down to wait for Ted. She rested one arm along the back of the seat and let the other hand rest on her thigh. She was beautiful, Rita admitted to herself-as beautiful naked as she was dressed. Rita glanced down at her own rounded hips and full breasts and wondered if Ted would find he liked Elsie's type better. He mustn't! she thought in sudden panic. Oh, God! Don't let him like her kind of body better than mine!
His undressing was no strip-tease; it was just getting stripped in a hurry. And he dropped to the love seat and took Elsie across his lap. She reacted quickly to his caresses, but even as she writhed, she looked like she was going through a rehearsed, graceful dance. And when her hips were jumping, she pushed away and straddled Ted, guiding the tip of his penis into her folds with her tapered fingers and lowering herself to engulf it as if she were in slow motion. Rita choked and turned her head.
Al was suddenly beside her chair, kneeling next to her and apologizing. "I've been neglecting you, dark-eyes," he muttered. "I guess I was drunker than they were." He jerked his head toward the other two couples-Cora, flat on her back with Bill lying between her thighs, her arms around his shoulders and one of her legs lying across his now quiet buttocks and Elsie pumping herself up and down on the shaft that stuck up out of Ted's lap.
"I don't feel neglected," Rita murmured.
"You're not going to be, either," promised Al. "Did I ever tell you I like brown eyes?"
"Of course. Every time you get drunk." Of the three women, she was the only dark-eyed one. Cora's were tawny-a sort of deep hazel. Elsie's ranged from ice-gray to blue-green, depending on her mood.
"Brown-eyed women got dark tits," Al told her.
Rita started. Was that true, she wondered. Cora's nipples were pink. Her own were dark, but she doubted that proved anything.
Al closed his hand on her breast and she fought down the urge to squirm away. His fingers were going to seek out her softer flesh and her moist recesses. He was going to take off her clothes and spread her and stick his penis into her. He might excite her; she might cling to him and work her hips and stiffen in an orgasm. But she might vomit, too and tonight she'd have to worry more about that than how she responded to his probing.