Chapter 9
IT WAS PARTY NIGHT AGAIN.
Mona had been worried about Frank all week long, ever since the day she found out that he had blurted out all those things in Old Man Danton's class.
She knew about Joel Hankins, too, though Frank hadn't been the one to tell her. It was Joel himself who, the day before yesterday had called to thank Frank for sending a check for double his hospital bill. She hadn't known about any check-Frank had never mentioned one. And so she asked Joel what had happened, and he had told her, more ashamed of his remarks to Frank than angered because of the consequences.
So she was worried about Frank for those reasons. And she was also worried about Frank because Sue Ellen Bland was not one to play coy and modest unless she hadn't earned it yet.
There was a new couple being initiated tonight, a member of the school administration and his wife. Their names, as she remembered, were Herb and Mia Saunders (or was it Smithers?) and she should have been looking forward to seeing someone else on the platform, to being an established member of the group voting on the acceptability of a new pair of satyrs.
She should have been, but she wasn't. She was worried, worried about Frank, worried about Joel Hankins, worried about Sue Ellen.
The thing with Sue Ellen really bothered her. She didn't mind giving a complete stranger a blow job, or going Greek, or even taking on a pair at once-as long as they were men.
But she'd never made it with a woman, never wanted to, never even thought about it until Sue Ellen named the fee for her labors, and the thought of it turned her stomach. Not to feel the hard, throbbing warmth of a man inside of her, to feel soft, pliant breasts pressing against her instead of a hairy chest, to take, rather than to be taken. It was too alien, too strange and different, and she shuddered as she thought of Sue Ellen spreading her legs and commanding her to ... to what? She didn't even have the slightest idea as to what might be expected of her!
But Sue Ellen would tell her, make it very clear to her, of that she could be sure. Sue Ellen would explain it in agonizing detail, and would then very likely proceed to show her exactly what she had meant.
Suddenly the thought struck her: what if Sue Ellen decided to do it in front of everyone?
She couldn't refuse. Not only was it part of her bargain, but Sue Ellen might just decide to tell everyone exactly why she had promised herself.
If that happened, it would utterly destroy Frank completely-and despite this driving need for sex, for satisfaction he couldn't give her, she loved him.
On the other hand, if Sue Ellen suggested that they do it there on the floor in front of everybody, and she consented, Frank would probably never touch her again-which was also just what she didn't want to happen.
So, torn by apprehension, she entered the room with her husband.
They were a bit late, for Mia was already lying back on the platform, legs spread apart and dangling over the edge, her fingers working furiously on herself.
Mona nodded her greeting to all of them, then began slipping out of her clothing. She became aware of Herb's eyes on her, and the knowledge of it brought a tremor of excitement, the first flush of lust to her.
All the others were watching his wife, but Herb, who had kept his hair and his figure well into middle age, was a little tired of looking at his wife. He had lived with Mia for fourteen years, loved her for the first five or six, but now she was rather old hat to him.
Without a word he walked over to Mona, clad only in his shorts. His eyes asked the question; she nodded, and a moment later he was carrying her unprotesting form off into one of the bedrooms.
He was good-fast and good, just the kind of thing Mona liked to start the evening off with. She didn't have to spend too much of herself too early, and yet there was no denying that she had gotten her kicks-and had given as much as she had taken.
Herb was exceptionally large, and she had a little difficulty in accomodating him at first, a difficulty she wouldn't have had later on in the evening, but she simply moved a pair of pillows beneath her hips, and then she was able to take as much as he could give her.
She paused only long enough to arrange her hair, then walked back to the living room. Mia had taken her time, for she was just now corning out of the final throes of her masturbatory orgasm.
"It's Frank's turn tonight," said Hank, and then, seeing Mona standing beside the couch, asked, "Hey, Mona-where's that big, brawny husband of yours?"
"Isn't he here?" replied Mona.
"No," said Jeannie. "When we noticed the both of you were missing, we just assumed that you were off in a corner somewhere, frigging away to beat the band."
"Try to be a little less vulgar," said Sam. "Say it more respectably. Use a word like copulating."
"Sorry," said Jeannie. "So, like I was saying, we figured you were frigging away to beat the band."
"Which must have pleased the band no end," commented Karen wryly.
"Anyway," said Jeannie, "he's missing in action."
"Well, see who else is gone," added Travis, "and you'll know what action he isn't missing." He looked around the room. "Seems to be Sue Ellen. I feel honored."
"We'll have to get a substitute," said Dave. "I modestly volunteer."
"Can't volunteer if you're going to be modest about it," laughed Ellen, giving him a shove toward the platform.
He did volunteer, he wasn't modest, and five minutes later Mia and Tim were rolling and wriggling on the floor, grinding their bodies together in the last step of the initiation.
"How was he, honey?" Karen whispered to Mona. "Did he pass?" Mona nodded.
"Good!" sighed Karen. "I'd hate to vote a huge thing like that out of the club."
"There's a young lady here to see you," said the voice from the intercom. "Who is she?" asked Tim.
"She refused to give her name, but says that it's a matter of great urgency and importance."
"Oh, hell," said Tim, removing his feet from his desk and burying the Wall Street Journal beneath a stack of papers on his desk, "send her in."
Kaye entered the plush office.
Somehow, it wasn't quite what she had expected. It was modestly furnished, lined with photos of Tim at various stages of his career.
But then, she reasoned, he'd hardly have pornography all over the walls. When you're the Dean of the Art School and a Trustee as well, you don't advertise the fact that you and your wife join in swapping orgies with the student body.
"Does it pass inspection?" asked Tim pleasantly, and Kaye realized she'd been standing in the doorway. She pulled the door shut behind her and sat down in a chair facing his desk.
"Mr. Corwith," she said, "I've come to see you about an important matter."
"Oh?"
"It's about Joel Hankins."
"Who?"
"Joel Hankins. He's lying half-dead in a hospital right now."
"I can't place the name," said Tim. "Is he on the football team?"
"No."
"Well," he said, lighting his pipe, "what would you like to tell me about this Hankins fellow?"
"Nothing. I'd like you to tell me what you are going to do about it."
"I'm not at all sure we're on the same wavelength, young lady," said Tim with a frown. "You walk in here, tell me that somebody I've never heard of is in the hospital, and ask me what I intend to do about it. Aside from wishing my condolences, I don't know what you could possibly want me to do."
"You were responsible for it," she said coldly, "You and your group."
"My group?" he repeated. "You mean the Trustees?"
"No."
"The art school, then?"
"No."
"Young lady," said Tim, "you'll have to pardon the expression, but I don't know what the hell you're talking about."
"You know very well what group I'm talking about," said Kaye. She reached her hand out to the intercom. "Or would you like me to flick this switch and tell everyone in your office where you and Jeannie were last night?"
"No!" he shouted, reaching out and ripping the cord out of the intercom. Then, sitting down, he struggled to regain his composure and finally succeeded.
"All right," he continued. "What's this all about now?"
"It's about Joel Hankins."
"I told you: I don't know any Joel Hankins."
"No, but Frank Durham does."
"Go on."
"And Joel knew that Frank and Mona are in your club."
"So?"
"So Joel made a comment about it, and Frank almost killed him."
Tim's lips tightened. "You have proof?"
"No, I haven't asked Frank, and Joel's been unconscious most of the time. When he's awake, he's been unwilling to say what really happened."
"Then what makes you think Frank did this to him?" asked Tim.
"I just put the pieces together and they fit, after Joel made a little slip. Frank had blurted out something about the club earlier in the day. Joel knew about it and probably mentioned it. Frank has a hair-trigger temper. And Frank was the one who brought him to the hospital."
Tim relaxed visibly.
"Pure supposition," he said. "You have no proof that would stand up in a court of law-and the college administration, which I happen to control, is not exactly a court of law to begin with."
"Court be damned. I'll go to the papers-and I guarantee they'll know what to do with the story," she replied coldly.
"All right. Granting, for the sake of argument, that you can do what you say, exactly what is it that you want of me?"
"I want you to see to it that the University, or you, or the club, pays the hospital bills-they're going to continue for a long time-and I also want you to get Frank Durham to transfer away from here or expel him."
"Whew!" said Tim, forcing a smile. "You're not asking too much, are you?"
"I'm not asking anything, Mr. Corwith," said Kaye. "I'm demanding it."
"Listen," he said, "it'll take a little time to get in touch with Frank and to raise the money. The college can't pay it, of course, and I'll have to contact all the other members and see how much we can come up with."
"When will you have an answer?" she asked.
"Why don't you come to my home this evening around eight o'clock," he said. "My wife will be there for your protection, if you feel you need it."
"Why not at your office?" she demanded.
"My dear young lady," said Tim, "you have just jeopardized what it has taken me a quarter of a century to achieve. Please allow me to handle this in my own way."
"I don't trust you or your wife," said Kaye.
"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do about that," he replied, "I can never tell when someone will burst into this office while you're saying something which might incriminate me. And I assure you, you'll not be raped. I doubt that I could buy you off twice."
"All right," she said slowly.
"Fine. I'll be expecting you around eight."