Chapter 5

In the sexually frustrated state of mind he was in it did not matter to him which of the two women he met first. Either one would do. He bounded up the stairs, came to a stop in front of Mrs. Ainsworth's door. He tried it, found it locked. How could she have locked it? Did she have some way of crossing the room without attaching her artificial feet? She could have crawled, he thought. For that matter, perhaps she could walk, after a fashion.

Why am I thinking about this? he asked himself, and rapped loudly on the door. "Who is it?" she called. "John Deering. Let me in "

"No. Sorry. I can't open the door."

He cursed, walked away, went to his room, looked in. He had no idea of why he did this-there was no one in his room, of course. He wondered where Joanie's room was, began to search for it. He found it. It was located at the far end of the hallway. Her door stood open and he saw her lying on her tummy on the bed. He stepped inside, closed the door with something of a bang.

She jumped, looked up at him with frightened eyes. What the hell is wrong with her? he thought. She's as nervous as a kitten.

"John," she said. "I didn't hear you knock."

"I didn't knock," he said evenly. "Why did you cut out on me, leaving the bathroom the way you did?"

She looked at him, looked away, started to sit up on the bed, apparently thought better of it, lay on her side facing him. "I don't know," she said. "I suppose I was afraid my uncle would catch me in the room."

"He knew you were there in my room. I'm sure of it. Why are you afraid of him? What power has he got over you?"

Her eyes became defiant. "No power over me, John," she said quietly. "But it is his house, not mine."

"Nuts," he said. "You said that before. What's that got to do with it?"

"Got to do with what?" she asked, looking innocent.

He threw up his hands. "Come on. You weren't born yesterday."

She turned on the bed and as she did so, her skirt flew up, revealing the creamy flesh above her stockings. He stared at her, wet his lips. They were very dry. Both of these women had a way of driving a man nearly crazy.

"Do you really want to make love?" she asked, smiling faintly.

"No," he said, sarcasm creeping into his tone. "I want to know the way to the North Pole. I have a need to know where it is. Thought I'd drop into your bedroom and ask you."

She surprised him by laughing heartily. "You're a very funny guy, John. I don't think you realize it."

"I don't feel very funny," he admitted, calming down almost instantly. He walked over to the bed, stood near her. He caught the scent of her perfume. It was pleasant, nice, just as it had been before.

Sit down, John," she said and sat up herself.

"If I do, will you promise not to disappear?"

She smiled. "I promise, John." She patted the bed with her hand.

He sank down beside her, put his arm about her, pulled her up to him, kissed her wetly. She pulled away a moment later, sucked in her breath.

"You," she said, "must be the most passionate man on earth."

Despite his intensity, he smiled. "I doubt that, but there's something about you that gets to me."

She tapped her lower teeth with her fingernails. "Does my aunt have the same effect on you, John?"

He felt his face burning a little, but did not avoid her gaze. "I didn't come here to talk about your aunt. I came here because of you."

She rolled onto her back, her bosom jutting straight up. He could see the outline of her nipples through the thin blouse. It excited him all over again. He placed his hand on her there. She just looked at him, made no effort to either encourage or discourage him. He unbuttoned her blouse, slipped his hand beneath it, feeling her breasts. Still she lay there looking up at him with her dark eyes.

"Don't you like that?" he asked huskily.

"Y-yes, John."

"Do you mind if I?...." He bent his head a trifle.

"No, John."

"You mean you don't want me to?"

"I mean I don't mind, John."

He unbuttoned the remainder of the buttons, pulled one of her breasts out, stared at it momentarily, lowered his head, took the nipple between his teeth lightly.

She cried out, pulled his hair hard.

He straightened up. "Is that a whacky sort of thing or is it passion?" he asked her.

She bit her lips, looked away from him.

"Well?" he persisted. "What is it?"

She did not answer him. He stared into her eyes for the moment, lowered his head again. This time she rolled over on her side. He followed her, placed his face on her tit. She sighed this time, began to rub the sides of his face. He felt the thing happening for the umpteenth time. He reached down, lifted her skirt, pushing it up over her hips. She lay still, then rolled over on her back.

"You really want to, don't you?" she whispered.

"Yes," he said unsteadily. "Of course I do."

"I don't know if I should or not."

He looked at her. "For Pete's sake, make up your mind."

"All right, John. I've made it up."

"Good," he said. "It's about time."

"Just a minute," she said. "I'm going to tell you something, first."

He looked at her dark eyes. "All right. What is it?"

"When I picked you up in the bar. Haven't you wondered about it?"

"I did, yes. Not now I don't."

She sat up quickly, looked at him strangely. "You mean my aunt has talked to you about it?"

He did not want to discuss her aunt right then. "Can't we talk about her later?" he said, feeling the stirring inside him growing stronger.

"No. Right now. Do you know why she had me pick up a man and bring him here?"

"I can guess," he said. "She's a very lonely woman."

"That's part of it, John, but there's more. Didn't she tell you the rest of it?"

"No. Nothing."

"Well ... then I can't, can I?"

"You've got me," he said, shrugging and wishing she would stop all of this. "How would I know?" Joan Herlick sighed. "All right, John. Go 'head.

Do what you want to do. I don't mind."

"You don't seem very enthusiastic," he said.

She lay down on her back, moved her legs farther apart. "I'll show you how enthusiastic I can get, John Deering. You just do your part and don't worry about me. I'm not dead, you know."

He laughed tensely. "That's the way I like to hear you talk.

She said nothing, just looked at him, her lips parted, her breath coming faster.

He ran his hand up her smooth leg, sucked in air when he felt the texture of her skin. He was getting a bit frantic too, as he moved about on the bed. She inserted her knee between his legs. It was a passionate move on her part; it set him up in fine style. He removed her knee gently, spread her legs farther apart, lay between them. Her panties were not on her, he discovered. He again sucked in air, prepared himself, thrust at her almost savagely.

She cried out when he struck the spot.

He moved rapidly. He was in no condition to take his time, to allow her to catch up with him. There was no time for any of these things. His movements became hectic, and soon she was moving with him pushing her cunt up to meet his savage battering.

It was delicious, this feeling of warmth.

He could not keep it going for long. It was not humanly possible for him. He had been worked up to a high pitch too many times that day.

He let go, went limp on her.

She lay quietly, only her hard breathing told him she had enjoyed this brief act of Lovemaking.

He raised himself, finally, looked down at her face. Her eyes were tightly closed.

"Sorry to be so quick," he said. "Number two may be coming up soon."

"I liked it, John," she said. "It was heavenly."

Heavenly was the word all right, he thought. I wouldn't have used it, but it jits perfectly. "Hey," he said, feeling much better. "I think I like you."

She opened her eyes, gazed into his own, which were but inches from hers. "Kiss me, you big ape," she said softly.

He bent his head, touched her lips with his. She kissed him wetly, again and again.

"Hey," he said. "You surprise me."

"You thought I was a stick, didn't you, John?"

He laughed. "Not exactly a stick. I thought you were afraid of me."

"I was," she said quietly.

"Are you ... now?"

"No."

They jumped almost guiltily when the loud, short knock came on the door.

"Hey in there," Keith Ainsworth called through the door. "Come downstairs. The steaks are getting cold."

"How about it?" John asked her. "Do you want a steak or do you want something else?"

"What is the something else?" she said, smiling.

He showed her what he meant by pressing his cock against her.

"I'd rather have this," she saM, "but if we don't go down and eat those steaks, my uncle will be angry."

He raised himself, moved away, got to his feet, gave her his hand, pulled her to her feet, kissed her. "All right, we mustn't make your uncle angry. He might bite us."

She looked at him strangely. "Don't underestimate my uncle, John," she said quietly. "He can be very cruel and vicious."

"Are you coming down or aren't you?" Keith Ainsworth called.

"Coming, Keith," Joan said, and standing on her toes, kissed John's mouth quickly.

John heard Keith Ainsworth mutter something or other and walk away. He went to the door, opened it a crack, looked into the hall. "All right," he said. "He's gone." He turned about, saw the strange look was still on her face. "What's the matter with you?" he asked. "Are you that scared of him?"

She smiled tightly. "I'm not afraid of him," she said, but he saw her lower lip was trembling slightly.

"Let's go down and eat those steaks," John said. "I won't let him hurt you."

She nodded and together they went down the stairs to dinner.

It was later in the evening that both Joanie and Keith Ainsworth went to their respective rooms, leaving John alone downstairs. He sat in the front room drinking bourbon and thinking about this odd household. He knew, now, why he had been brought there. He had been hired to be a lover to Mrs. Ainsworth.

Mrs. Ainsworth had sent her niece out looking for a man who would fill the bill. Mrs. Ainsworth was a very passionate woman, it appeared. She needed someone to love her. She was in no condition to run around looking for men. Very likely, she had not been loved in a long time. Her husband, obviously, was not a man in the sexual sense. John thought he was a homosexual, but of course he had no way of knowing this for certain. The man's actions, his manner, the things his wife had said about it-all of these contributed to John's opinion of him. John was not the type of man to deal savagely with homos; he knew they could not, usually, help being what they were. Nonetheless, thinking about the guy gave him a feeling of something akin to disgust.

He got up, poured himself another drink, went back to the sofa, stretched out on it, one hand under his head, the other hand holding the glass. He stared up at the ceiling for a time, tried to think further about these people.

He heard a sound near the doorway, looked up, saw Mrs. Ainsworth, dressed in slacks that came down to the shoe tops, standing there.

John sat up, then got to his feet. "Hello," he said, trying not to stare at her feet.

She walked across the room very well. He was surprised, but tried not to show it. One could not have told, at a casual glance, that she had artificial feet. She walked over to him, perhaps a bit slowly, but there was no awkwardness in her stride. Apparently, she had learned well how to use the feet.

"John," she said, using his first name this time.

"Are you sitting down here all alone?"

He smiled slightly. "Yes. Won't you join me? Can I get you a drink?"

"Yes, thank you, John," she said.

He got her a drink of brandy, brought it back to her, watched her as she took it, sitting down on the sofa without any trouble at all. She looked up at ban he coyly, thought.

"How does it taste?" he asked, for something to say.

She smiled. "I don't know. I haven't tried it yet." She took a sip, put the glass down. "It's all right. For once, Keith got the good brand."

He cleared his throat, tried to think of something more to say to her. "What does your husband do?" he asked.

She glanced at him sharply. "What?"

He repeated his question, sorry now he had asked it. He could not have cared less what Keith Ainsworth did for a living.

"Oh ... Keith? ... Well, he doesn't do anything, really."

John looked at her.

"He never has done anything except make other people miserable," she said.

This was a ticklish subject. John steered clear of it. He sat down beside her, smiled slightly. "You walk very well," he heard himself saying bluntly.

She nodded, took a sip of her drink, put the glass down again. "It took a lot of practice. I didn't think I was ever going to learn to do it."

He studied her face, saw the fine-textured skin, the regular features, the blue eyes. She is a damned good-looking woman, he thought. "You look good in slacks," he said.

"Are you trying to tell me something, John?" she asked, smiling.

He felt his face grow a bit warm, was annoyed by it. She had a way, sometimes, of making him feel much younger than he was. He could not explain this, even to himself.

"Could be," he heard himself say.

"Tell me more and tell me directly, John."

"You're very nice," he said lamely.

She laughed, then frowned slightly. "I suppose you're wondering why I came downstairs."

"No. Not especially. You said you were supposed to be ill. That's all I know about...." He broke off.

"Know about me, John?"

"I guess so."

She took another sip of her brandy, put the glass down, moved about a bit on the sofa. Her knee came in contact with his leg. It felt nice, exhilarating. There was something about this woman that got to him, even as there was with Joanie. He was intrigued by this woman and her ... well, her handicap. Strange, that the fact of her having no feet should set him off, but it did. Maybe there's something wrong with me, he thought wryly.

"Do you know why my niece brought you here, John? she asked abruptly.

He hedged. "Possibly."

"All right," she said. "Let me hear you say it."

"I prefer not to."

She seemed to study him. Her eyes, he thought, are lovely. Her bosom is also lovely.

"John," she said, "I told her to go out and look for a nice-looking chap, to bring him home, if she found one. She found you, brought you here. I liked your looks. I-" She paused.

"I know that part of it," he said. "But why did the chap, why did I, have to look like your husband?"

She narrowed her lids. "Oh, you're beginning to figure things, are you?"

"A little."

She sighed. "I'm a very lonely woman, John." He nodded, did not speak.

"I'm going to be very frank with you, John. I had intended waiting a few days, possibly a week or longer. I'm going to tell you. I have sized you up, I think, as the men say. You seem to be the right sort. You-"

"Right sort for what, Mrs. Ainsworth."

She glanced at him. "Please call me Julia when we're alone."

"All right ... Julia," he said, liking the idea.

"My husband and I have little money, John. His father is very rich. He has a will. He is going to leave everything to his grandchild with Keith and me as ... well ... you know what I mean. We'll benefit from it, too." She paused, looked him over carefully. "Now do you know what I'm getting at, John?"

"Yes. You have to have a child."

She looked away from his probing eyes, nodded. "That is correct."

"And...." here he took a deep breath before going on, "your husband is ... incapable of giving you that child. Is that correct?"

She did not look at him. "Yes, John."

"So ... you are hiring me, so to speak, because I look somewhat like him, to be the father. Is that correct?"

She looked at him now. "Yes. Does it make you feel badly, John?"

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "It's a strange deal," he said. "I don't know how I feel. I-"

"We can't allow his father to find out about it. He has to think it is Keith's child."

"You mean, will be Keith's child, don't you? It hasn't taken place yet, you know."

"Are you going to turn us ... turn me down, John?"

He laughed. "This is the craziest thing I ever heard of. I find it hard to believe."

"I suppose you do. It is rather wild, isn't it, in a way?"

He nodded. "You'll never get away with it. The old man has already seen me. He'll suspect whatever ... happens."

"I ... we have to make the try, John. If we fail, Keith and I will be without funds."

"Haven't you heard about artificial insemination?" he asked. "Seems to me that would be more practical."

She avoided his gaze again. "That's out," she said. "The doctors won't let me do it that way."

"Why not?" he asked bluntly. "It's being done every day."

"Because ... of my medical history." He frowned.

"What's the matter, John?"

He sighed. "I'm not sure I like being hired as a stud," he told her bluntly.

She put out her hand, pressed Iris arm. "John, don't look at it that way, please."

He stopped frowning, looked into her pretty eyes, saw the nice glow in them. "How else can I look at it?" he asked.

She was silent for a moment. "I shouldn't have told you. I should have played the woman and seduced you-let it go at that."

"But that wouldn't have worked. I might have left afterward and you wouldn't know if you were with child or not."

She laughed lightly at this. "The thing does sound wild," she said. "It sounds wild even to me."

"Look," he said. "Don't misunderstand me. I find you attractive. I would like nothing better than to make love to you."

Her eyes glowed. "Would you, John, really? You aren't just saying this to make a woman like me happy, are you?"

"No. I mean it."

"That's very nice of you, John."

He shook his head. "I didn't say it to be nice."

"John ... would you kiss me?"

He bent his head, kissed her hungry mouth. She kissed him, kept on kissing him, her lips very moist and soft. Finally, he pulled away, looked at her. Her bosom was rising and falling rapidly.

"I like you so much, John," she murmured.

"Do you want ... to ... go ... up to your room?" he asked, studying her.

"You mean you...?"

"Why not? That's what I've been hired for."

"Please ... don't put it that way."

"All right. I'm sorry. I retract that. Do you want to go upstairs, Julia?"

She looked around the room. "Yes, if you'll carry me, John."

"But suppose someone sees me carrying you?"

"No one will, John. I know."

He picked her up easily, carried her to the doorway, started to walk toward the stairs. She kissed the side of his face, his ear, his neck, and it caused the sexuality of him to come into being. He was liking the place more and more. What guy, he thought, has two lovely women who want to have love made to them all the while? Beautiful, he thought further-just beautiful, this setup.

"John," she said suddenly, clutching at his shoulders. "Put me down."

"What is it?" he said, lowering her to her feet.

"Someone is at the front door. I heard them."

He frowned. Of all the lousy luck. "I don't hear anything," he told her, but then he did. It was the doorbell.

"Will you answer it, John?" she said. "I'm not supposed to be down here." She started up the stairs.