Sintown Chronicles I: Behind Closed Doors (55 page)

“I can make that promise to you, Bo, but not to Betty. You see, this guy is in the mail-order business. Last night I stupidly mentioned the advertising agency and he became very interested. He'll probably be giving Rita a call Monday morning. I tried to talk to her on the phone about it this morning, but she hung up on me."

“Good for her,” Bo mumbled.

“I'll talk with Rita about it,” Betty offered. “As long as she does business with your friend and you're not involved I don't think you have a problem."

“I'm afraid I let Jake think we were all the best of friends. I told him I used to work for Rita's husband when the agency was in Charlotte."

“What goes around comes around,” Bo gloated. “You do have your ass in a sling. What's it worth for us to play this game with you?"

“What do you mean?” Jan asked.

“Get your clothes off and give Betty and me a good time this morning, with us calling all of the shots."

Without hesitation, she stood up. “No. That part of my life is behind me.” She started towards the door.

“Damn, you have changed,” Bo called after her. He looked at Betty and said, “We'll play the game as long as you are straight with us."

Betty nodded her agreement as Jan burst into tears.

When Jan closed the door behind her, Betty threw off her housecoat, bent her naked body over the back of the sofa and spread her feet wide apart. She heard Bo ripping off his jeans and felt him entering her greedily. She knew it was Jan's erection she was enjoying, but at the moment, she didn't care.

She lay against him in the tub, stirring the water with her foot. “Bo,” Betty asked, “did you enjoy fucking Jan?"

“Where the hell did that come from?” he replied. “I haven't touched that bitch since..."

“You fucked her just a few minutes ago. It was my body you were using, but it was hers you were thinking about."

“The bitch turns me on. I can't help that. That's why I didn't want her to come into the apartment. Let me remind you that you are the one who invited her in."

“Earlier I tried my best to get you interested, but you stayed limp as a dishrag. What's happened to us, Bo? What happened to the guy who couldn't keep his hands off my boobs?"

“It's Rita,” he said softly. “I can't stand the thought of you slipping off with her day after day to have sex."

“Oh, Bo,” she said with her voice wavering. “You said you were okay with that, and we don't do it every day."

“When I said I was okay with it, I was."

“What happened to change your mind? Bo, please don't make me choose between you and Rita."

“Think about it a minute, Betty. What if it were me who was openly having an affair with Rita—screwing her every day or so? How would you feel?"

“I don't know. I probably wouldn't like it, but its not you, Bo. It's me and you said you were okay with it. You gave me your permission."

“It could be me,” Bo said slowly.

“What?"

“Betty, I didn't mean for it to happen, but I fell in love with Rita's body when Jan forced me to screw her. It was not just her body I fell in love with. Like you, I am in love with Rita Holder. I think the feeling may be mutual."

“Rita has said something to you?"

He sidestepped a direct answer. “It's a strong feeling."

They remained silent for several minutes.

“It was Jan's idea for us to all live together and be one happy fucking family. Is that what you want, Bo?"

“I don't know, Betty. I don't think you could handle it. I don't think I could perform with you present."

“You did once."

“Yeah."

“I guess there is only one way to find out. It will be an interesting way to spend a rainy Sunday afternoon."

As soon as they entered her house, Victor Kimel pulled Susan Honneycutt to him, hungrily seeking her mouth with his lips and placing his right hand gently on her throat. As their tongues touched, Vic slowly began to slide his hand down her neck, then quickly pushed it under her square-necked dress and inside her left brassiere cup.

“Darn you, Vic,” she swore, wheeling away from him, “don't ruin this perfect evening."

He followed her into the living room, caught up with her, encircled her from behind with his arms and firmly grasped both breasts. He kissed her hard on the neck, sucking her blood to a small round dot on her skin.

“Don't do this, Vic,” she pleaded as she felt him push his erection against her taunt buttocks. She grasped his wrists with her slender hands, but he would not relinquish his hold on her.

“Susan,” he moaned. “You don't realize what you're doing to me."

“Do you think I am a cold fish?” she asked in a voice that Vic thought a cold fish might, indeed, sound like. “We've waited this long, Vic. Don't spoil it now."

“You're right. I've waited four long years. It's inhuman, Susan. Nobody expects a woman to be a virgin on her wedding night anymore.” His right hand released its prey, dived under the fabric and cupped her left breast.

“If you must have sex, Vic, go back to Charlotte and engage the services of a streetwalker.” She relaxed her body, silently letting him know he could overpower her, but could not gain her consent. She had done this many times before. It always worked.

He jerked away from her and dumped himself on the sofa, pouting like a child.

“Honey,” she said, smiling but keeping her distance, “I had such a good time at the supper club tonight. You were so funny and the music of the band was so good for dancing. Please don't end the evening in anger."

“Yeah,” he responded, “you rubbed yourself all over me while we were dancing, but back in your home, where we can do something about it, you turn into a block of ice."

“Block of ice, my ass,” she said. “Close your eyes, Vic. Go on. Close them."

He heard her approach, felt her hand drawing his forward, felt the dripping wet cotton and jerked his eyes open disobediently just in time to see her panties before the descending dress hem covered them.

“I'm as turned on as you are,” she explained simply. “I don't have ice water in my veins.” She collapsed on the sofa beside him and drew his hand into her lap, holding it tenderly with both of hers.

“Then why, Susan?” he pleaded, although he knew the answer.

“As I've said so many times, Vic, I decided in my early teens I would save myself for my wedding day. I know its old fashioned, but I am determined to keep that promise to myself."

“You don't understand my needs,” he whined.

“Perhaps not. Why don't you consider a prostitute, Vic? It's okay with me. Just don't tell me about it. And for God's sake, use a condom."

“It's not okay with me. I don't want a prostitute. I want the woman I love."

She squeezed his hand. “That's sweet, Vic."

“Sweet. Yeah. Look, if you won't fuck me, at least set the wedding date."

She released his hand, slid away from him a little, turned and glared. “Don't use gutter language with me, Vic. You know I don't like it."

“I'm sorry,” he said, burying his head in his hands.

“I'm not ready to set a date,” she continued. “You've just gotten your career underway as the chief financial officer for Dollar Enterprises and I've just gotten my career as an attorney cranked up."

“That's what you said a year ago,” he protested, turning his eyes to meet hers. “In your mind, how long does it take to get a career established?"

“I'm not sure, Vic. When the time comes, I will know it. Then we'll set a date."

“Do you remember the Dollars’ party last Christmas Eve?” he asked.

“Of course I do,” she replied with a smile on her lips. “It was beautiful. I helped with the food and decorations, and it began to snow that night as the Dollars renewed their wedding vows beside the pond."

“They're going to have the party again this Christmas Eve. They were talking about it in last Monday's staff meeting. If we ask them, I know they will let us have our ceremony under the decorated cedars beside the pond. That's something we'd never forget, Susan."

“It would be nice,” she agreed, “but I don't think we'll ever forget our wedding, no matter where or when it takes place. This Christmas is too soon, Victor. Maybe next year."

“Is that a promise?” he asked eagerly.

“You know it's not."

“This isn't going the way I planned at all,” he said as he dug into his jacket side pocket. “You won't have sex with me; you won't allow high school petting; you won't set a wedding date. I guess you'll say no to this too.” He extended the diamond ring towards her. “Will you at least wear my ring?"

“Oh, Vic,” she said, unable to disguise the delight in her voice and eyes. “Is this your grandmother's ring you told me about?"

“Yes."

“It's beautiful, Vic, and it looks expensive."

“I don't know,” he lied, remembering the appraisal value of ten thousand dollars obtained soon after his mother gave it to him. “Of course, we'll have to take it to a jeweler for resizing."

He saw the tears in her eyes as she looked up at him. “I'll wear your ring, Vic. Put it on me."

He slid the ring slowly onto her finger. “I'll be damn,” he said. “It fits like it was made for you."

Before taking time to admire the sparkling stone further, she flung her arms around his neck, held him close, and kissed him ardently. He gently enclosed her in his arms and lightly fingered the bra strap beneath her dress.

“Why don't you pour us a glass of wine while I go to the little girl's room,” she said, her eyes sparkling like the diamond on her finger. “We need to celebrate."

He watched her leave the room and then went into the kitchen. He found two wineglasses in the cabinet over the sink, and removed a half-filled bottle of white wine from the refrigerator. Being careful not to spill it, he returned to the living room.

“Vic,” he heard her call from the bedroom. “Would you come back to the bedroom a minute please. I want to show you something."

His pulse quickened momentarily. She had never before allowed him into her bedroom. Then he laughed and shook his head. “Wishful thinking,” he muttered as he followed the sound of her voice, still carrying the two glasses of wine.

He stood in the bedroom doorway, stunned. There was only one dim light burning, but it was sufficient to illuminate the naked body of his deeply adored fiancé. “You may hold me, but there will be no intercourse,” she said softly.

With trembling hands he sat the glasses on a bedside table and slowly approached her, uncertain of the new rules and wanting to take in the marvelous view previously seen only in fantasies. She placed her arms around his neck, pressing her quivering breasts against his chest. His hands gently caressed her back.

What do I do now? he thought. What can I touch? Do I ask permission? His hand slid lower on her back. She did not complain. He touched her buttocks. She lifted her lips to him, driving her tongue deep inside his mouth. His hands cupped her rounded bottom. She moaned.

“Vic,” she said, “I don't know much about it, but I've read that a woman can give her man pleasure with her hand."

In answer, Vic pulled away and frantically stripped the clothes from his sweating body. She was on her back in the bed. He positioned himself over her. He cupped her breasts. She did not stop him. He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her nose, and her mouth. He fondled her breasts and rotated her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. She moaned loudly and raked her fingernails down his back.

“Susan,” he groaned, “I love you so very, very much.” The head of his penis nestled in her soft, curly, pubic hair.

Every muscle in her body locked as she pressed her legs tightly together. “No,” she commanded.

“Sorry.” He had found the limits of the new rules.

He rolled over on his back. She sat beside him, studying his penis. She touched his testicles and jerked her hand away. They both laughed. She touched again and marveled at how soft the skin was. He moved her hand to the shaft of his penis, closed her fingers around it and wordlessly showed her how to give him pleasure.

He lay back and moaned. The faster her hand moved, the louder his verbal acknowledgement of pleasure became. Suddenly he cried out, as if in pain. She seemed transfixed by the semen spurting out of the little eye she was focusing on. The fluid was white and felt warm and sticky on her still moving hand. It splashed on his thighs, his flat stomach and on her clean sheets.

What was she supposed to do now? She removed her hand and looked at his face. His closed eyes smiled like the grin on his lips. She looked back at his penis.

Very quietly and very innocently, she whispered, “It went away."

Jan lay on her stomach as Jake, sitting beside her on the bed, massaged her naked back. “You're a hell of a woman, Jan Patrick,” he said, working her shoulder muscles firmly. “Beautiful inside and out."

If he only knew, she thought without pleasure.

His strong hands worked down her spine. “Oh, Jake. That's the spot,” she purred as his thumbs pushed into her flesh at the base of her backbone. “Oh, God. A little lower, Jake.” He found the end of her tailbone. “Oh, baby."

He kissed the left cheek of her bottom as he began working on her thigh. “I feel like you've breathed life back into by aging body,” he said.

“You just needed to loosen up a little."

“I'm serious. You don't know what energy your smile generates in these old bones of mine. You've brought purpose and meaning back into my life. When I get up in the morning I no longer curse God for letting me live through the night."

“Jake that's a terrible thing to say."

“Maybe,” he continued as he worked on her feet and sensitively kissed her toes, “but it's the truth. Since you came into my life, you turned the dump I live in into a decent home. You even straightened up the stock room and turned a rat's nest into a comfortable study. And you have me bathing and wearing clean clothes daily."

She purred as he worked his fingers up over the calf of her right leg and pressed the palms of his hands deep into her thigh. Dreamily she said, “We need to get you a washer and dryer. Taking your things to my place is beginning to get old."