Chapter 11
He set the card table up in the center of the living room, brought chairs from the kitchen. Edie helped him; Bradford had to go to the John. She hovered close to Bill.
"Happy?" she asked.
He gulped at a fresh highball and looked at her in wonderment. "Why shouldn't I be?" he said harshly.
"You really want to play strip poker, don't you, Bill?"
"Don't put the blame on me. It was your idea."
"If you don't want to...."
"Who said they didn't want to?" He finished off the highball, threw the cards down on the table. She came pleadingly into his arms.
"I'm worried about us, Bill. Worried sick."
He ran his hands up and down her body. She wanted affection, but that was for suckers. "What are you worried for?"
"Y-you're different ... like a different person...." She paused and then rushed on. "Bill, honey, I wanna do what's right for you and...."
"You talk too much." He coarsely fumbled with her lower body, then pushed her into a chair. Bradford was back. Edie lowered her eyes. The men sat down.
"You sure you wanna go through with this?" Bradford said hopefully to Edie.
She looked up. Her eyes were wet. Her mouth was suddenly hard. "Deal the cards." And from that moment on, she was intent on two things: Getting drunk, and removing her clothes.
On the alcohol bit, she was modestly successful, consuming at least six highballs in no more than twenty minutes. As for removing her clothes she was astonishing lucky in winning, and it was the men who were forced to undress. She filled inside straights, topped their hands with full houses, flushes, and one occasion, even came up with four aces.
"I think she's stacked the deck," Bradford said.
"You wanna quit?" she asked, gathering together the pile of clothes in front of her.
Both of them declined her offer.
"I've heard of men losing their shirts in a card game," she laughed, "but this is the first time...."
"Quit yakking and deal," Bill snapped.
She shot him a cold glance and shuffled the cards. Both men were down to shorts and T-shirts now and as they picked up the cards she dealt them, Bradford said, "I sure hope I win this hand. I'm getting cold."
Bill remedied the situation with more drinks for everyone, then succeeded in finally winning a hand. Bradford laughingly removed his T-shirt; Bill reclaimed one of his shoes.
On the following hand, Bradford turned up with three queens. He won again, a hand later, then Bill bounced back with two pairs; Edie's luck, however phenomenal, had taken a turn for the worse. She suggested they could cut out and do some dancing if they liked; she was promptly vetoed. A succession of losses then reduced her loot to nothing, and she had to part with both of her shoes. Bradford kissed the shoes, caressed the gleaming patent-leather said that was for good luck.
Bill watched the expression on her face. Any minute now she would back out and want to quit. He'd refuse her, of course.
However, to his surprise, she did not beg out. Furthermore, she lost the next hand, and haughtily said, "And I s'pose you think I'm afraid to take it off?" Her remark was meant for him, and he watched her stand, look at him coldly, then slowly bend over and grasp the red velvet dress by its hem and lift upward.
The splendor of her body never failed to arouse him, but sharing that magnificent sight with another man was like no thrill he had ever enjoyed in his entire life. Half the thrill, he thought, was seeing the speechless awe on Bradford's face. He was looking at her with such intentness, such a fury of excitement, that Bill thought the man would come out of his chair and suddenly sweep Edie into his arms.
"Is the underwear satisfactory?" Edie said sarcastically.
"I dunno," he said. "Lemme feel the material." He made a grab for the wispy panties she wore. She dodged back.
"No fair," she said. She pulled up on the tiny bra, so tiny it barely concealed her lush pink nipples.
"Let's finish her off," Bradford said eagerly. He dealt the cards. Bill excused himself and hurried to the kitchen to mix another round of drinks. When he returned, he reached over her shoulder and bent down to squeeze the powder-puff softness of her thigh. She pushed his hand away and wiggled out of the chair. A second later, she fell roughly into Tom Bradford's lap.
"Protect me, Tom," she said in mock fright. "That mean old man wants to touch me." She pressed her breasts against Bradford's bare chest. He took advantage of the situation and put his arms around her.
"I don't know how much protection you'll get from me, but...." He hugged her. "Mmmmmmm...."
Dumbly, Bill set the drinks down. She was getting quite loaded, he decided. A few more and she would get really reckless. "Are you gonna play, or are you gonna neck?" he asked.
"We're gonna neck," she said. "I can have you any time," she teased. "Now Tom here...." She squirmed against him. "...tonight, he's my boyfriend."
Bradford was embarrassed; he pushed her off his lap. "Jealous husbands I can do without."
Edie chucked Bill under the chin. "Oh, he's not jealous. He-likes me to do things like that with other men, don't you, honey?"
Bill was silent. He watched her kill the better part of another drink, then he dealt the cards. The hell with her.
Bradford brought home another winner: Two pairs, king high. The two of them stared at her. Without a second's hesitation, she reached behind her and unclasped her bra.
Bradford choked on his drink. He desperately wanted to look at Edie's breasts, but concern for Bill kept his eyes trained in the other direction. However, when she giggled drunkenly over her new found nudity, the tension disappeared, everybody laughed, and Bradford stared gluttonously at her softly upturned breasts.
"It seems to me," Bradford said, the bourbon renewing his courage, "that the winner oughta have the privilege of taking off the panties. What do you think about that, Bill?"
"I'm with you, pal." The drink had thickened his speech. "The winner wins-the winner takes 'em off."
Edie threw them a pout. Finally, she said, "Okay, whoever wins my panties gets to take them off."
Bill took a huge swallow straight from the bourbon bottle. Edie and Bradford proved that they were equal to the same stunt. Bourbon dribbled down Edie's chin. Bradford wiped it away with the back of his hand. At the same time, his glance fell to the tantalizing pink of her nipples. Every movement of her body caused the breasts to bobble; the effect on Bradford was glowingly noticeable. Bill dealt the cards.
Once again, Bradford emerged the winner, this time with a straight flush. Edie jumped up in front of Bradford. "I'm ready if you are."
Obviously, Bradford hadn't expected to really earn the chance to remove her panties. His eyes glassed. Beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead.
"Well," Edie said, "what are you waiting for?"
Bradford sent Bill a beseeching glance.
"Go ahead, boy. Take 'em off."
It was all that Bradford was waiting to hear. His small pudgy hands found their way to the waistband of her panties. He slid the wispy red panties down over the flaring of her hips, paused briefly, then urged them the rest of the way, letting them fall to her ankles. She kicked the panties into the air. Bill caught them.
"Hey, how 'bout that one?" He stood up, pulled his shorts off, and climbed into her panties. He wiggled his pelvis. "Well, how do they look?"
They laughed. They thought he was a real nut. Bradford, however, was more anxious to gaze at Edie's wanton nakedness. When she fell into his lap again, he swarmed with passion. She was completely commonplace about being in his lap, addressing herself to Bill. "Frankly, Mr. Smarty, I think they look better on me." She stubbed her toes at the carpet.
"Oh, I don't know about that," Bill said. He clowned his way around the room. He put his hands on his hips, forced his feet into Edie's patent leather shoes, and cleverly affected the girlish wiggle of a young high-schooler. He strode to the chair that Bradford and Edie were, jokingly pulled Edie off of Bradford's lap, then took her place. He wiggled his rump against Bradford's body.
"That's no fair," she complained. "You're infringing on my territory, now." She pushed him off and again sat on Bradford's lap. Bradford circled her waist and clasped her to his body. Her fingers found his shorts. "And how come you've still got clothes on?"
"Damned if I know."
"Bill, make him take his shorts off."
"You."
"C'mon, take 'em off."
Bradford refused. Edie struggled to remove them but she was no match for Bradford's strength. Bill came to her assistance. Bradford broke away from them and ran down the hallway. Bill and Edie stumbled drunkenly after him. Edie cornered him, Bill pulled him to the floor.
Bradford screamed and giggled. Edie pinned him down, her breasts pressed against his bare chest. Bill dispossessed him of the shorts and ran back up the hallway waving them like a flag. Edie followed after him. Bradford joined them in the living room. He was hunched over, a bit cold, he said; and he wanted his shorts back.
"And you can't have 'em," she said, snatching them from Bill and sitting on them. She gazed at his arousal. "Besides, you're cuter without them."
Bradford sat down and covered himself with a toss pillow. "I refuse to budge another inch unless someone brings me my shorts, or else a drink."
So they brought drinks. Drinks and more drinks. And it rapidly turned into a sex circus gone mad. Bill found a pair of Edie's elbow-length dress gloves and added to his clowning masquerade. He even coaxed Bradford into dancing with him.
It was wild. Edie roared in drunken laughter. The two men danced at close quarters. Bill rubbed his panty clad pelvis against Bradford's nakedness. To his surprise, Bradford became visibly excited. Bill pressed harder. Edie then saw the result. She cut in on the two men. "My turn," she said, and she seized Bradford's hands.
Bill stumbled to the kitchen and poured himself another drink. When he turned to re-enter the living room, Tom and Edie were locked close together, but their was no movement to their feet. The dry fish. Standing close together, squirming and rubbing at each other-no rhythm necessary. Then the crazy goddamn phone rang.
Bill cursed. It was like a curfew-someone saying that the show was over, let's go home. Edie broke abruptly from Bradford's embrace. The three of them gazed speechlessly at each other. The phone rang again. Bill figured it was Sinclair; he picked it up but the line was dead.
"Wrong number," he said, dropping the phone back to its cradle. He turned around and Edie had taken refuge on the sofa; Bradford excused himself and stumbled to the bathroom. Edie suddenly wore a strange expression-had it been the blank phone call? he wondered. He came beside her and asked her what was wrong.
"It's just good that that phone rang when it did, honey." She sighed and leaned against him. "I was ready to give in, to let him do it to me." There were tears in her eyes.
"Honey, it's only a party."
"No, it isn't, Bill. It's worse than a party. And I don't want to do anything with anybody else. I'm yours. I belong to you ... not him. Just you." She pressed her arms around his neck.
He eased himself gently out of her embrace. "Honey, don't be that way. Let your hair down. Have fun." He tried to find his drink, but couldn't.
"Bill...."
"C'mon, honey." He wiped the tears from her eyes. "Please don't make me do it." She clutched his arm. "Don't make me do something with him. Please."
"Honey, I'm not."
"But...."
Suddenly, Tom staggered back to rejoin them. Edie grew sullen. He tried to encourage her to dance with Bradford, but she declined, said she felt ill.
"A wet blanket is more like it," he said coldly. "A party pooper."
Pleadingly, she searched his eyes. Bradford joined her on the sofa. "Something wrong, Edie?" he asked.
Bill went down the hallway toward the bathroom.
"Bill...." she called.
He turned around, grinned. "Be back in an hour," he shouted, "and if you don't make hay while the moon shines...." He closed the bathroom door and turned off the light. He waited a few minutes, then he opened the door softly and stood cloaked in the shadows facing the front room. He was able to see the whole show.
The thrill of being a watcher was indescribable. Tom was murmuring softly to her, trying to break down her resistance. His hands went slowly over her breasts. She moaned and tried to fight the curse of her body. It was no go.
Tom kissed her; his hands mashed down on her nipples. She fought off his hands and squirmed away from his kiss. He whispered something in her ear. Her face became wrought with anxiety. Now he kissed her again.
Unobserved, Bill moved deeper into the shadows of the hallway. The wild, exhilarating feeling of watching her succumb out of this world, he thought. He clutched at Edie's soft, silky panties, felt them hug the hotness of his skin. From the front room, he heard Edie moan, knew that the collapse of her defenses was near at hand.
He inched closer and saw Tom work the nipples of her swollen globes into distinguishable hardness. Gently, he pushed her down on the divan. His mouth went searchingly down the sweetness of her body and engulfed on the hardened pink nipples. Suddenly, Edie's arms went around Tom's neck in a spasm of uncontrolled passion.
From his hiding place in the hallway, Bill wanted to explode. He saw Tom's hand go darting between her thighs. She clamped her legs together, fighting him and fighting herself. But the battle was lost. Tom's flicking tongue had set fire to her nipples; his busy hands had broken the last struggling line of her resistance. The gates of hell were now open. She was his.
He took a deep breath and leaned against the hallway wall. Her thighs parted, spread wantonly for the entrance of Tom's hand. His fingers disappeared from sight. She let out a surging moan. Her arms tightened on his neck. She thrust her hips and pelvis up to meet the rhythm of his hand.
Suddenly, Bill couldn't stand any more of it; he had to share the thrill, the ecstasy of helping her succumb. Breathlessly, he came to the edge of the living room, then walked the remaining few steps and fell beside them on the sofa. He winked at Tom, then began playing with one of Edie's breasts.
Sensing him there, she emerged from her delirium to protest. She attempted to push their heads away from her breasts; her pleas fell on deaf ears; they only sucked the nipples all the harder.
"Bill ... Bill, p-please...."
His jaws drew and closed on her throbbing nipple. He strained to see the contortion of her expression. Her eyes swam; she was in a comatose state of reeling senses and forgotten inhibitions.
In another minute, the two men walked her, half-dragged her to the bathroom. They giggled drunkenly and Edie cried and tried to break away from them. Then the three of them tumbled to the bed.
They quickly aroused her to insane desire. They licked and pinched her soft, pliant body; covered her with hot kisses and intimate caresses, forced her down a road with no return. The combined stimulating effect of two men upon one woman was too much for her to bear. She finally had to surrender to her feelings, lose her identity in a tide of overwhelming passion.
She carried on like she was infused with Spanish fly. She clutched both men simultaneously, fondled their maleness, brought them to a peak of excitement to match her own. She sobbed all the while, rolled her head dumbly from side to side, fervently wanting satisfaction, but still struggling vainly against it.
Bill whispered and urged Tom between her legs.
"Oh, noooo...." She cried. Now it was too late; Tom was there.
Bill was delirious with excitement. He watched her eyes roll, saw the sharp intake of her breath. She squirmed, but there was no escape. She was helpless. Her mind had been betrayed by her body, and now she pumped anxiously to meet the inward thrust of Tom's drunken, quivering pleasure.
They rolled sideways away from Bill. Bill clasped her buttocks and pushed her toward her partner. He felt the return force of Tom's thrust. Her backside pressed against him, but he nudged her back to Tom. Then again. And then he was riding with them, clutching at the silk panties he wore, joining them in animal grunts, riding to hell and bursting with sin.
"Tom...." she moaned. "Stop now. Please." But her body begged for more. "Oh, f-faster...."
Bill stole between their closely pressed bodies and groped for her breast.
"Tom ... Bill ... I can't ... I can't hold back. I c-can't...."
"Don't, honey," he whispered. "Let it happen. C'mon."
"Ohhhh ... Tom ... Tom ... oh, Tom g-give it to me. Hardddd! As hard as you can ... yessss ... yesssss!"
And then it happened. Tom and Edie. Going together, and in the mad spasm of exploding passions, Bill fell over on top of the both of them, pumped his silk clad thighs against their naked bodies and burst with the warm liquid of forbidden love.