Chapter 7
Across the fence which divided the Felton property from that next door, a light winked on in the bedroom of Marlena Hancock. She was greatly disturbed by the amount of noise coming from the house next door and wished mightly that some one would do something about it.
She always spent this time of day going through her beauty routine and was aggravated because the disturbance was interfering with it. Counting the strokes of her brush was taking on the aspects of a problem because of her inability to concentrate. Her failure to think was caused by the fact that every time she reached the count of ten there was a loud bleep from across the way and she promptly forgot whether this was the third 'ten' or the fourth. It was impossible for a person to keep count with all that incessant noise swelling across the fence from the direction of the Felton household.
Mr. Hancock also took notice of the distraction and turned from the window with a shudder of anticipation.
"Sounds like Felton is throwing another party tonight," he commented. "Strange he chose to have it here instead of at the store."
Mrs. Hancock looked up from her chore. "I hope they don't keep this up too long." she said. "It could get rather sickening." Mr. Hancock listened again to the wild juvenile beat. "Very unusual." he stated and nodded in agreement.
"Would it be unneighborly to ask them to tone it down a bit?"
"They might be offended," decided Mr. Hancock. "Let's turn a deaf ear to it for a while and perhaps they'll stop."
"Deaf!" exclaimed Mrs. Hancock. "That I almost am...." and she returned to her stroking and counting.
The party was slowing down. Not so much in tempo as in desire and the amount of physical endeavor expended in the persuit of pleasure. The large quantities of alcoholic beverage consumed was beginning to tell on the guests who, now, were more inclined to sit and talk, or sit and make advances at any one who might be a receptive target for an advance.
Victor had expected to be the center of attention, to cater to the girls with his cigarettes, and to the boys, with Leonard's beer. In spite of his desire to please, no one was paying any attention to him. The empty beer cans on the side table testified to the degree of his thirst and the mound of butts in the ash tray, the pleasure of his cigarettes. Right now he was feeling the swift reactions of the little round cylinders and was being wafted away on the magic carpet of hallucination.
Victor removed his glasses and peeked through the spread fingers of his left hand, which covered his left cheek, his eye and part of his forehead. He was certain that the girl he was watching had removed her blouse and brassiere and was doing a topless frug. Just to make sure, he looked again.
The vision seemed to come through a long funnel of haze and the movements he was viewing were slow and exaggerated, like the slow motion movements of an old time movie.
He felt like he was floating on a cloud of nothingness, hanging in space and seeing everything that went on around him as though through the wrong end of a telescope. Over there, a boy with long hair was undressing the girl in the checkered stretch pants and having a difficult time of pulling the pants down her legs. She stood swaying, with one hand on his shoulder and lifting a foot at a time so he could pull the tight cuffs off over her feet.
The entire living room was floating somewhere in the regions of the clouds and for awhile he felt completely out of place and alone. He grinned to himself and Wanted to shout to everyone to catch up, then he knew it was because everyone else was late in getting started on their trips and would have to take a little longer.
In a far corner, a youthful figure stood poised in the process of examining a shadow on the wall and delighting in the wonders of a magnified dream. Victor scowled for a moment and drew back against the girl beside him.
"Gawd!" he muttered breathing deep with the quick gasp of startled reaction. He shook his head to clear the haze, dropped his arms to his side and stared toward the spot in the corner.
The figure was still there. Victor blinked, looked again and then grunted. He felt strangely upset and the figure in the corner was doing something to his mind which he couldn't control. "Nuts!" he said brushing the vision from his mind with a mental sweep of his hand and turning to Denise. If she saw it, he would know he was right, that the person in his mind was really there. Denise appeared to be asleep and he refrained from disturbing her. He knew he could never explain what he had just seen because she would never understand. How could anyone understand that his mother was over there looking at him and crying from eyes which looked clear through him. When he looked again he knew she would be gone. Sho always was.
Denise slumped against him, the bulk of her weight resting against the muscular frame of his body. She sipped occasionally on the glass of fortified orange juice and tried to remember whether this was the third or fourth. She had a floating smile on her face and faced the wall, giving no indication that her eyes could see anything.
Victor shifted his weight on the sofa and reached for another cigarette. He smoothed out the wrinkled covering of the last one in the pack and fumbled with a book of matches. He strained to see the tip of the match as the flame sputtered and then dropped it to the floor where it went out without doing damage.
He could see that the girl doing the topless frug was still bouncing to the music and the boys clustered about her in a semi-circle watching intently. The more aggressive were engaged in projects of their own and paying little attention to the semi-nude dancer or the intent audience looking on.
A boy came from the kitchen with a glass of water and stood puzzled looking about the room. "Where's Lori?" he inquired, looking for his friend in the group.
"In there," Ginny said pointing to the door of the guest room. "She and Simms are making out."
"Shhhhiitttt!" He said unmindful of the group. "Couldn't she wait for me?"
Ginny shrugged and returned her attentions to the more promising prospects of her own. "Why don't you go ask her?" she said.
Guido Bartoni was becoming decidedly bored and wanted to do something. He had expected the party to be a little more lively but up to now all anyone wanted to do was lay around and smoke butts. Guido didn't smoke and really didn't like to drink. All that was left for him to do was to watch the others.
The silky haired blonde was doing a slow motion version of some kind of dance and Guido watched her very intently. As she moved, the short skirt bobbed about her legs, lifting to the limit of her cute little bottom and the calves of the bouncing legs looked very inviting. He was seeing as much of her as possible and wished that he could see more of that cute little shape. Maybe if he waited his chance, just maybe....
His fingers rubbed the smooth metal box in his pocket which contained the three items that were supposed to be the steady companion of every teenage boy. Guido had never used one and wasn't sure these were any good. They had come out of his father's dresser drawer and he didn't know how long he had had them.
Guido wasn't completely decided whether to use them or throw them away. None of the other fellows would tell him and Victor was a bastard.
"Like washing your feet with your socks on.!" he exclaimed. "In this day of the pill, who needs them!"
So Guido decided that if the need ever came, he probably wouldn't use them anyhow. He knew Victor thought him a square in the matters of sex but he didn't have parents like his. He had wanted to ask his father about girls and things but had chickened out at the last minute. Maybe some day he would. Anyhow, why worry about it now. He would have to get a girl first. He settled back in his chair keeping the little blonde in view and realizing with shocked appreciation that she was removing her blouse, then her brassiere and dancing about in a rendition of a topless frug. Guido watched enchanted and the problem of his erection grew in importance.
Blouses suddenly became too warm, stretch pants too tight and youthful Levis too hampering. Those who were being overcome by the mounting desires found the journey into pleasure, aided by the stimulation of narcotic and alcohol, was quickly shortened into only an arm's length away.
Guido scratched through the pocket of his pants and rubbed his hard cock. He was beginning to like what he saw and intended to stay as long as anyone else did. He liked the idea that was formulating in his mind and waited only for the moment for him to put it into action. What the alcoholic spirit might lack in stimulation, his own desires were providing and his imagination burst all bounds in picturing what he could experience if only he had the patience to wait.
Roni Collins weaved to the music, adding a bit of the oriental to it and making a combination belly dance and discotheque out of the Watusi. As she danced, her hands weaved about her body, moving up and down her sides, then higher to the buttons at the front of her blouse. She worked with the buttons, opening them one by one until the entire row was unfastened and then, removed the blouse and dropped it to the floor.
"Hey Baby!" a voice shrilled. "You dropped something!" and a burst of laughter followed.
The blonde snapped her head rapidly from side to side, her hair swirling about her ears, keeping time to the beat as she went into a wild shake from the hips up. Then her hands moved up her back, picking at the straps of the meager brassiere covering her breasts. The hooks parted and she jerked the garment away, swinging it in one hand while continuing her bobbing and weaving. The boys whistled at the topless performance, begging for more.
"Go Baby Go!" the audience cried and Roni increased her tempo of shaking gyrations. Wildly, the dance continued, her head bobbing in unision to the music.
"Take it off, Baby!" a voice shouted and the surrounded by a circle of boys and girls who were watching every movement with delight. Sprawling or sitting in small groups, their upturned faces a study of expectation.
The blonde reached for the button of her skirt, loosened it and lowered the zipper, then, pausing momentarily in her dance, pushed it over her hips, down the shapely legs to the floor, stepped out of it and resumed the dance clad only in her very thin pale blue briefs.
The boys cheered and beat beer cans together. The room was filled with cries of "Take it off! Take it off!" then more whistling and cheering and demands to "Blow it Baby."
The room was becoming smoke filled. The haze was a hanging grayness which shrouded the figures sprawling on the floor. It was humid and hot and foul with the smell of closeness.
Ginny Watters squirmed and clawed at the tight blouse. "Damn it's hot," she said fanning herself with a free hand. "I want to get out of this," and she fumbled with the buttons. Her eyes looked glazed and she swayed uneasily. The boy beside her offered the remaining butt of his cigarette and waited until she finished it.
The girl smoked silently then handed back the stub and pulled at the offending blouse. She unfastened the buttons one by one, looking nervously from side to side and pulled it open at the front. Her companion watched intently, then worked with the buttons of his own shirt. "Boy, it sure is," he said agreeing with her. He unbuttoned the shirt and pulled it off. He emptied his can of beer and threw it at the opposite wall where it banged against the plaster before dropping to the floor, leaving spots in the painted surface of the newly decorated wall. "You really hot Baby?" he inquired. He reached for the opened blouse.
The girl nodded, pulled her skirt up as far as she could and rubbed her hand on the naked leg exposed. "You ain't kiddin'." she said. "I'm cookin'."
"Too hot for shirts too," observed her companion pulling off the offending garment.
The girl watched until he was finished. "Dresses too," she said and ran down the zipper of the skirt. The boy watched entranced. "Now the rest of it," he pleaded.
She leaned toward him. "You do it," she said, she turned her body, lifting herself off the floor while he pulled the skirt down away from her hips, down her legs, and then set back on the floor, lifting her feet so he could pull it free.
The boy was overcome by the actions. He waited nervously for her to finish the disrobing. "The blouse too," he suggested staring at the lace panties that was the only garment below the waist. The girl obliged by climbing to her feet and he rose to help her.
"I'm smothering." she said. "Can't stand clothes," and proceeded to remove the blouse.
"Now the pants," her companion said reaching for the panties, "Let's you an' me rock."
"Not yet," she said pulling away. She reached up her back, probing for the catch of the brassiere. "This first," and she struggled to find the snaps.
His arms went around her, reaching for the fastner of the tightly fitting bra. The girl dropped her arms and waited for him to finish. "Help yourself, Swinger!" she said and then laughed.
"Ginny's gonna rock," a voice said and then snickered.
The boy jerked the brassiere free, tossed it after the beer can and then swung the girl about while laughing gleefully.
"You and me, Doll!" he exclaimed. "Just you and me!" His hand hooked the waist of her panties, forcing them downward over her hips and she laughed, wildly beating at his hands, slapping him in passionate fun, using up the energy released by the beer and answering the demands of a mind subdued and inhibited by the toxic action of marijuana.
"Jimmy!" she squealed. "Oh Jimmy!"
His hand was inside her panties, down across her stomach, clawing at the tender spot between her legs. He was so occupied it never dawned on him his name wasn't Jimmy.
"Ginny's gonna rock!" chortled the snickering voice.
The boy staggered under the weight of her tottering body, fell backward, dragging the squirming girl with him. He landed on his back on the floor, the girl on top, his arms still around her, one hand on the left breast and the other clawing at the vicinity of her vagina. A volume of laughter followed their display and then the chant stopped. The boy rolled, holding the girl in his arms until he was on top and she was flat on the floor beneath him. He held her firm, one hand brushing her thighs, then he grasped the fabric and jerked hard. The material split and fell apart displaying the silky fuzz beneath.
The boy gasped and then poised for a moment in silent admiration and then he was over her, pinning her to the floor with his left arm and probing the area of her crotch with the other. Then, a sly smirk on his face, he found what he wanted and his finger pumped in and out while the girl squirmed and slapped at the floor.
"Oh God!" she said reaching for the hand. "Oh God!"
The smirk on his face widened and the girl became quiet.
"Turn on Baby!" the boy said. "Be a love dove, make like kittens and cream."
The girl quit squirming and lifted her head from the floor. "If you want to do it, let's do it but get your finger out of me-that hurts." She lay back on the carpet and sighed. "It also tickles," she added.
The boy removed his pants, completely unmindful of the youthful audience to his actions then settled down on the girl and worked his organ into her. The spectators grinned then turned away leaving the pair alone. The girl winced, groaned and settled back into submission, the magic carpet of marijuana carrying her higher and higher; now that she was rid of the offending clothing, she didn't really care what he did to her.
Additional converts, not to be outdone, joined in the pursuit of the altogether, each little section acquiring it's striptease artist. Other girls arising to the occasion by removing too warm blouses, too tight stretch pants and joining in the wild dervish recital of concupiscent yearning.
Guido Bartoni watched the developing events with excited interest. Deep within him, the sleeping man began to take note of the feminine inticement and to come awake. His gaze moved from the couple by the wall to Roni Collins, still dancing in the center of the floor and then to Denise.
He noted that Victor too was watching the dancing girl, who, oblivious of all that went on about her, was still capering to the strains of a new record and seemingly no more fatigued than when she first started.
Victor forced himself from the sofa, dumping Denise to the floor and stepping over her in his hurry to get to the capering blonde. Denise struggled to sit up. Leonard leaned against the kitchen door, his face deeply furrowed and his chin set in frustration. He was deeply piqued by Victor's treatment of what he considered his girl. Victor wasn't treating her right and now would be a good time to get even with him. If he took Denise away from him it would serve him right. He pushed through the circle of humanity to the spot by the couch. Nothing in the room was real. Only a sea of indistinct faces and merging bodies met his gaze as he tried to focus on the spot he had last seen the girl. He reached for her and felt relieved when a hand closed in his and he could pull her to her feet. Now he was there and she was there, he wasn't certain what he should do with her. He could never do as those two were over there, undress right here before God and everybody and rock her on his own living room rug.
He grasped her by the hand and tugged toward the hallway and the stairs which led to the second floor. The girl followed agreeably.
Guido Bartoni stood as though entranced. Wanting to be attentive to both girls and engrossed in the mounting scene, was caught in the predicament of not knowing in which direction to go first.
He watched while Victor approached the dancing girl and reach for her arm. He noticed that the girl slowed her dance for only a moment to look at him and brush the hair from her face.
"Go away," she told Victor and resumed the wild beat.
He could see Leonard as he leaned over Denise and the silly grin which replaced her expressionless examination of the living room wall. Leonard reached for her hand, waiting for her to take it and then followed her as she moved to follow through the sprawled gathering of hoppies who now drew back to make room for them to pass. The trance which accompanied the dance continued to hold them spellbound and they could see nothing except the near nude figure in the center floor, nor care that anything else should exist.
"Here," Leonard whispered, holding Denise by the hand and leading her from the living room into the hall and toward the stairs.
Victor reached for Roni's arm. She paused and drew back. He grabbed for it.
"Stop!" she said and paused once more in the dance. Victor stared at the round fullness of her young body and his face below the replaced glasses was wrinkled in a leering grin.
"Come with me, Baby," he coaxed. "Come take a trip with me."
The girl stopped dancing and looked at him. She was breathing hard and moisture stood out on her forehead.
"No," she said and turned her back.
Victor burned with indignation. "Well shit," he hissed.
"She promised me," a voice said. "She's my girl."
Victor looked for the source of this new irritation. "Get lost!" he snapped. He was mentally enjoying the lushness of the young body in front of him and had no intentions of giving up. "Scram!" he said.
"Go away," Roni said reaching down for the skirt and blouse on the floor. She glanced only momentarily at the boy who had joined Victor.
"Beat it." Victor was getting angry. He doubled a fist and turned on the teenager meancingly. "Split, Drummer!"
"Guido approached the girl from behind the antagonized boys. He touched the blonde on the shoulder. "Come with me," he whispered. "I'll help you," and motioned toward the archway into the hall. Roni Collins looked to the retreating backs of Leonard and Denise, then she took the boy's hand and followed him across the room. Victor, intense in his discussion, was incapable of noticing anything. He was only aware that he was being challenged and this was his party.
"We're going to fly!" thought Guido glancing back at Roni. "Nobody but us-Boy!-will there be action? I'm going to do it Baby, with you Baby." He was silently voicing the statements of his mind and building visions of the pleasures he would experience. The bulge in his pants increased in size.
Leonard and Denise were at the top of the stairs and starting down the hall toward the doors leading into the upper rooms. Guido followed, moving quietly on the carpeted floors, leading Roni who was hugging her skirt and blouse to her bare bosom and appearing quite docile.
Roni Collins hugged her clothing to her breasts and seemed uninterested in where the boy was taking her. Guido glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his heart pounding. He wanted to stop and touch her but knew he must get her alone first.
He tried the door of the guest room, pushed it inward and then guided the girl inside. A faint night light cast a feeble glow over the room, bringing the furniture into outline. To the right was a large double bed.
He guided the girl toward the bed. She permitted him to direct her across the room, moving quietly and almost mechanically like some huge doll motivated by the commands of some master. The boy paused at the bedside, sought to turn the girl, reaching for the clothing still tightly clasped to her breasts. Her hands gripped the garments and her face turned to him in a blank stare of noncomprehension. Her fingers twisted in the blouse and skirt, refusing to give them up, her eyes looking beyond him into a world of unreality.
Guido put his hand on her shoulder, attempting to press her downward to a sitting position on the edge of the bed, with intentions of pushing her flat so he might lay beside her. His fingers pressed gently at the tip of her shoulder, her head turned, then, at the touch of his hand, she lifted her head, fluttered her eyes, opened her mouth and screamed!
The ear splitting shrillness cut at Guido's eardrums and he unconsciously put his hands to his head, turning to the girl in astonishment. He reached to quiet her and she screamed again. Then she sat down abruptly on the edge of the bed, her hair hanging about her shoulders, the clothing dropping in a heap on the floor. She sat for a moment facing directly ahead and then fell over backwards, dead to the world.
Guido left her laying crosswise on the bed and closed the door behind him. He had to leave, he wanted to leave, completely unmindful that she might be sick, might need aid or anything other than the fact she had passed out from the blow of a fifth of vodka. His sexual desires for the moment were forgotten and now he had only the wish to go home and to bed.
Below stairs, the sounds were beginning to originate again and there was a sound of scuffling. Loud voices broke the quiet of the living room and a crash added to the pensive atmosphere.
Guido slipped into the hallway, pausing to listen. The dim hall light made everything seem bright now that he was accustomed to it. He stood just outside the door of the guestroom wondering what to do. The girl inside hadn't stirred and he had no intention of going back to find out why.
He was still indecisive when the door of Leonard's room opened. The figure that emerged stood silently looking at him and then moved in his direction. Guido looked up quickly and then his face froze in a mask of bewilderment. It was Denise Wrigley and she was completely nude. She walked toward him slowly until she was only a few steps away and then she stopped. Guido stared at her in astonishment and for a moment couldn't believe he was seeing right. She smiled faintly and then, without making a sound, took his hand and led him back into the room from which she had just come.
Guido Bartoni's mind was a whirloool of questions which had no answers. Where was Leonard and why had Denise come after him? After trying to get close to her all evening it was a little hard to realize that she was here and as naked as the day she was born. Looking at the slim, curvaceous figure made him forget the disappointment of only a moment ago and once again he felt his lust rising. Denise was a very attractive girl and that beautiful shape would be a fit target for anyone.
Leonard wasn't in the room. Guido looked furtively about, noting the bed lamp which cast a warm glow about the room and the small pile of clothing placed neatly beside the bed. Denise sat down on the edge of the bed, looked up at him with eyes that were strangely hazy and more blue than he had noticed before. She lay back on the cloth spread and stared up at him with a vacant expression. Guido wanted to look away, felt that he should look away but couldn't. Something within him told him this was wrong, that he shouldn't be here. He didn't care.
All the frustration of his seventeen and a half years welled up in him, beating down his morality and leaving him the desiring man that his physical makeup had become. His desires were strong and, now that the opportunity had presented itself, was not going to be denied. He removed his clothing quickly, dropping his pants to the floor and going to her. He felt her young supple body, running his hands over her warm smooth skin and feeling the roundness that was so inviting.
His searching fingers found the proper spot and he knelt over her, probing and pushing to enter her.
He felt the softness of her, marveling at the white skin which was always shielded from the tanning rays of the sun, the pointed breasts now strangely hard and so wonderfully beautiful.
He lay down upon her, the touch of her vibrant body warm and caressing. He could feel the quickening beat of her heart, a beat which matched the wild excitement of his own and he wondered if she too enjoyed sensations like those building up within his body. He marveled at the stranged wonderfullness of her, the warm and sweet tenderness of her, the perfumed and scrubbed loveliness of her, and it was like nothing he had ever experienced before.
His mind was a caldron of emotion. He was certain that what he was doing wasn't right but it was so pleasureful he didn't care. What was right or wrong was no longer important. He only knew an urge which demanded to be satisfied and now was the time to do it.
He was glad he hadn't used the rubbers, was certain it couldn't have been like this if he had. He was beginning to breath easier but his mind was becoming cluttered with doubts that his inexperience was unable to answer. What should he do now? Should he simply move in and out or was there something else a man did when he was alone with a woman?
The girl squirmed beneath him, moaning in what might be great pain, as though she was finding the experience different from what she had expected, finding that this first encounter wasn't entirely the rewarding experience Playboy had depicted it to be. He tried to hold her still, hugging her in a grip of passion, pushing hard to satisfy the aching nerves within himself. He worked slowly, then as the fury mounted, pushed harder still while the girl continued to squirm beneath him.
"Love, my love," he whispered. "Do I hurt you?" He drew back, looking down on the face so close to his own. He could see the eyelids, the beads of moisture which stood out on the pink forehead.
"Oh, God!" she moaned, "Oh, Oh God, don't, don't, don't stop," and grasped him about the neck, pulling him down upon her while her body writhed in torment.
She .was crying softly, her arms locked about his neck, her head in the hollow of his shoulder and making tears wet on his neck. He felt closed in, her arms tight and restraining. He tried to pull away and suddenly was filled with panic.
Her bosom was heaving with emotion and she was breathing in short gasps.
"Please," she whispered in his ear and pressing tight against his cheek. "Please," and her movements increased in tempo.
Guido had no time to be frightened or remorseful or even embarrassed. He could feel the tension building and wondered at the mounting surge of total erection. His body pressed hard against her and she clung to him. As the fury mounted he could feel the awakening of muscles being brought into play by the sudden burst of ejaculation. The sudden stabbing pain was not what he expected and he could only gasp. "Oh God, Oh My God!" and then it was over. Denise Wrigley became quiet and relaxed on the coverlet. She was still moaning faintly as though pained by the action which was supposed to have been so pleasurable.
The boy sighed and slumped on top of her. Inexperienced as he was, his movements had been natural, the operation complete and the outcome very satisfying. Never before had he experienced anything so overpowering, so tantalizing, so thrilling, since the time he first masturbated in the bathroom.