Chapter 7

"SO POMPOUS OLD FRANK DURHAM IS IN A SEX swap club!" giggled Kaye. "Tell me more!"

"Not much to tell," said Joel, wishing she'd change the subject.

"You know," she said, "you never did tell me what went on that night you went to the Blands for dinner."

"Nothing much,"

"That's a lie, Joel Hankins," said Kaye.

"Nothing much that I participated in, anyway," he amended with a smile. "Tell me, do you know of a woman on campus, maybe forty years old, brown hair, about my height, named Jean or Jeannie?"

"Hmmm. It might be Jeannie Corwith."

"Who is she?"

"She's Tim Corwith's wife. He's the Dean of the Graduate Art School, and a member of the Board of Trustees. Why?"

"She was there," said Joel.

"At the Blands' place?"

"Yep. She was there, but for some reason or other, her clothing wasn't."

"Do you mean that she and Tim Corwith are...."

"Members of the club? Looks like it."

Joel then proceeded to tell her in detail everything he could remember of the night, and because he was Joel Hankins he left out nothing and didn't try to make himself seem less awkward and silly then he felt.

Kaye listened, engrossed, until his tale was over.

"It's fascinating," she said at last. "I mean, I know people sleep together. I've been dying to shack up with you for months. But to belong to a club like that ... and I know some of them! It's just too fantastic!"

"Travis was very adamant about wanting you to join," said Joel slowly.

"That's T. S. for Travis," she said. "Don't look so glum, darling. I'm keeping myself for you come hell or high water."

"Well, that's comforting," he smiled, and kissed her.

She returned the kiss, and his hands began to wander over her, seeking, exploring, caressing, until she was a writhing, panting animal, moaning in his ear and pleading with him not to stop.

She reached for his belt buckle, unclasped it, and managed to slip him out of his pants before he quite realized what was happening.

Then she lowered her head to his rod and took the tip of it between her teeth, caressing it lightly with her tongue.

Joel tried to go on kissing and touching her, but she moved her head down, sucking more of him into her mouth, and suddenly he couldn't go on, but lay back weakly in an ecstasy of sensation. Her tongue was active, racing back and forth across the iron-hard surface, circling the tip with an awkward expertise learned solely from books.

She bit him gently, barely touching her teeth to him, and despite himself he thrust his hips upward toward her.

Then, when he felt the pleasure beginning to mount like the surging of a distant waterfall, he withdrew from her and pulled her back beside him.

His hands reached beneath her sweater, met behind her, and unhooked her bra. In another instant both sweater and bra lay on the floor and his lips and tongue were racing hungrily across her breasts, biting, licking, sucking.

She grabbed one of his hands and guided it down her leg, under her skirt, then up to the darkened juncture between her thighs. She felt her panties give, heard them rip, but only pressed harder against him.

His lips were still glued to one breast, the fingers of one hand massaging the nipple of the other, and his other hand probing deeper and deeper into her, but always returning, after its sensual explorations, to the tiny mountain of pleasure which glistened eagerly.

Suddenly she began to tremble and shudder. He continued another moment, then, with a sound that was midway between a sob and a sigh, he rolled away.

"Whew!" he groaned. "It gets harder to stop each time, doesn't it?"

"I was almost there, this time," she murmured as she snuggled up against him, feeling the pleasure of his body once again. "Oh, Joel, it's going to be so wonderful once we're married!"

"Well," he smiled, "nobody was ever more prepared for her wedding night. No virgin, anyway."

"Oh, brother, is that a banner with a strange device!" giggled Sue Ellen, and all the others joined in her paroxysm of laughter.

The object of their attention was Sam, who for once had had a little too much to drink, and was behaving in a most unmedical manner, strutting back and forth across the room with a bonnet taped on to the end of his huge erection.

"You like?" he leered at them.

"We love!" shouted Sue Ellen gleefully.

"Oh, boy, am I gonna have a time sobering him, tomorrow morning. And he goes into surgery at ten o'clock."

"Hope it's not anyone we know!" chortled Tim, grabbing Jeannie and pulling her down onto his lap.

"It won't be after tomorrow," laughed Jeannie, running her hands beneath his shirt and thrilling to the feel of his lean, muscular body.

Sam was laying on the couch, out cold, but no one seemed to notice or mind it. In fact, at the other end of the couch Dave was sitting down, leaning back, while Ellen sat on his lap with her back to him. His hands clutched the soft flesh above her hips as she maneuvered her body up and down. Sam slept through it all.

Jeannie and Karen were putting on a show for the men, writhing on the floor, each with her head buried between the other's legs. As nearly as Frank could tell, Travis was making book on which would come first, with the various spectators shouting encouragement to their favorites.

He looked, at a clock on the wall. Eleven-thirty. They'd be breaking it up with an hour, and then he would take Mona home and to bed, to make amends for what had happened earlier in the evening.

But where was Mona? He looked around the room, and couldn't see her. And, for that matter, where was Sue Ellen?

Goddamnit, if that little Southern slut had ...!

He sighed with relief. The two were standing across the room, almost hidden in the shadows. They were engaged in an animated conversation, both oblivious to the few remarks about their nude bodies that came from Travis.

Satisfied, Frank waited until Dave and Ellen were done. Then, as they walked over to watch the impassioned scene between Jeannie and Karen, he crossed over to the couch and sat down, content to watch from a distance.

"Keep your voice down, Sue Ellen!" said Mona from across the room. "I don't want anybody to hear."

"Okay," said Sue Ellen. "Shoot!"

"Well," began Mona hesitantly, "it's kind of awkward for me."

"I haven't blushed since I was seven," said Sue Ellen.

"It's about Frank!" Mona blurted.

"What about him?" Her eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"He's ... well, he's rather ... I mean, in bed, when we...."

"I get the point," said Sue Ellen. "He doesn't make it with me either."

"What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing I couldn't fix if I had the time and the patience ... and the incentive."

"Will you?" asked Mona, trying to keep the desperation from her voice. "I love him very much!"

"I've got the time and the patience," said Sue Ellen meaningfully.

"I haven't much money," said Mona.

Sue Ellen wrinkled her nose. "Who needs money?"

"What can I do, then? I can sleep with Travis," she said, clutching at straws. "I'll let him use me whenever he wants."

"He can use you whenever he wants now," said Sue Ellen pointedly, "Besides, who's going to show him the ropes: me or Travis?"

"Name any man you want and I'll get him for you: signed, sealed and delivered on your doorstep, or your bed, or wherever you want him."

Sue Ellen shook her head. "No."

"I love him!" said Mona, tears coming to her eyes. "Won't you please help me?"

"I didn't say I wouldn't help you. Of course I will."

"Thank you," said Mona, with honest gratitude. "And I want just one thing in return."

"What?"

"You," whispered Sue Ellen Bland. "You," she repeated, touching her lips to Mona's soft ear. "Your ankles, your shoulders, your calves, your breasts, your thighs, your nipples, your tiny...."

Mona moved away embarrassed.

"And it won't be so tiny when I get through," Sue Ellen said aloud, smiling.