2 comments/ 56446 views/ 5 favorites Summer Rules By: WRJames Too young, that's what Jan had told him, that first summer. They were too young to be so serious. Yes, she loved him, but she wanted the summer off. They should date other people over the summer. Well, she had been very young, that first summer. She was one of those city girls who had skipped a grade. He'd met her for lunch, somehow there had been a mutual friend, and she hadn't looked too sexy, very quiet, shy, but she was a little sister, her big sister had been living with a guy for a while, and she was an art student, she spent her summers sketching nudes down at the Brooklyn Academy. She had been a little time bomb, a sex bomb, waiting to go off, and Tom had been the fuse. But she wasn't a dumb girl, and her sister had broken up with that guy, rather bitterly. So she wanted the summer off. She thought that they should date other people over the summer. What was Tom going to say? And in truth, it hadn't worked out so badly. He'd taken the train up to see her three or four times over the summer. He'd even driven up to see her during her brief stint as a camp counselor. She had been as loving, as passionate, as ever. And when school started, they had started up right where they had left off. It was no big deal. He'd gone out on a few dates at home, well, maybe more than a few, nothing serious, some necking, maybe a little more than that. Maybe he had spent quite a few summer nights at the drive-in, watching or pretending to watch the triple feature. Nothing serious had happened, nothing he had to feel guilty about. And as for Jan, if she had found some nice Jewish boy back in Brooklyn she had never talked about it. But now a second summer had rolled around, and Jan had announced that the summer rules still applied. Actually, she had phrased it as "of course," as if it was the most natural thing in the world to set aside three months for betrayal of your beloved. Adolescentry, that's what Tom called it. He was worried, more worried, this time. There was this guy named Claude, Claude the Clod as far as Tom was concerned, Claude was French, he was in his twenties, he had picked up Jan when she was walking in the park, wearing a pair of those hippie jeans. "Madame, you have a butterfly on your derriere." That was what he had said. That was what Jan had the nerve to tell Tom he had said. Plus, "you are very sexy." Well, she hadn't been all that sexy when Tom first met her. Mousy almost, shy and withdrawn. If she radiated sexy now, it was because Tom had drawn it out of her. Bitch. Tom was sure that Claude was lurking, at least in Jan's imagination, just waiting for the start of open season. Which explained, perhaps, why Tom was on his way to pick up Maggie on a warm June Friday evening. Not that anything too exciting was going to happen. Maggie was an old friend, the girl friend of one of his best friends in high school, pretty, a bit chubby, a straight arrow. She'd gone off to a conservative Christian college in the South. He'd gone off to Columbia. She was still stuck in the Fifties. He had become a spear bearer, so to speak, in the sexual revolution. Even so, on a few nights the summer before, during the third feature, Maggie had actually let Tom touch her breasts. That had been a big deal for her. He should have told her, one of those times, that he was in love with someone else. But he hadn't. He should have broken things off. But he hadn't. He'd even seen her a couple of times over Christmas break, not dates really, they'd gone to a couple of movies, in regular theatres, and to one party. Maybe he had given her little polite good night kisses, maybe she had said she had really enjoyed being with him. It didn't matter. It was all so innocent. He'd headed back up for track practice the next day. Jan had been naked in his bed that afternoon and every afternoon for the rest of winter break. Really, Maggie was not that sexy. She was too chubby, too straight laced. He was almost embarrassed by those little snuggle sessions last summer. But here he was headed for another one. She was waiting for him in her driveway. At least, there was a girl in the driveway the same height as Maggie, same blonde hair, same glasses, even. But this girl was thinner, a lot thinner. This girl looked like a supermodel. "Wow." That was all he could say. She didn't give him a chance to be a gentleman. She opened the passenger door and crawled in next to him, right next to him, snuggling over to give him a little kiss on the cheek. "Wow," he repeated. "How are you?" "Okay, I think. I've lost a lot of weight." "You look fantastic." "Thanks. It takes a little getting used to." Maggie had always been pretty, but she had veiled that beauty with a little layer of flab, not a lot, but enough. She wasn't used to turning heads. She wasn't used to having all conversation stop when she walked into a room. Of course, she could dress more modestly, bulky sweaters, baggy pants, and maybe she did that most of the time, but tonight she was wearing a little sun dress, the same kind Jan would wear on their summer dates, except that Jan didn't have all that cleavage. Or the little gold cross lodge incongruously in the middle of all that lovely flesh. "Diet?" Tom asked. "You swore off ice cream?" They were friends, just good friends. They had known each other since fourth grade, they had gone through Sunday school together, confirmation class, youth group. He was going to have a friendly conversation with her. He was going to tease her about her new found slimness. He wasn't going to sit there dumbfounded that he had a girl that looked like that pressing against him. "Never," she giggled. "I just lost a lot of weight, all of a sudden. I've been going through some medical tests, to see if anything is wrong." "Oh." "Right now, though, I'm enjoying it." "I bet. Has Jake seen you?" "Jake hasn't talked to me for a while now." "I see him all the time. We work out together." "Really?" Maybe that had been the wrong thing to say. She edged away just a little. "I'm faster than he is now. He was pretty pissed." "Good for you," she giggled. "How does he like Amherst?" A little dig back. Jake had gotten into Amherst, Tom had to settle for Columbia. Just because Jake was the football star. Well, Tom was doing okay. Soccer, track, steady girl friend, on top of his class, on top of the world. Except for that little cloud, that Claude, on the horizon. "He likes it." Plenty to keep you warm at night. That's what Jake had said, but Tom decided he'd better not pass that remark on. No reason to open up old wounds. "So what to you want to do?" He decided he'd better change the topic quickly. "Miniature golf?" The little gasp of irritation she gave was worth it. She edged away even further for a moment, then came close again, so close she was whispering in his ear. "Too hot. Too buggy." Jean Nate, she was wearing Jean Nate, just like Jan. The whiff of it was enough to arouse him. But he was not going to give in so easily. "We could go out to Longwood Gardens, and look at the fountains." "Even more bugs. Do you really want to do that? I'll go put on a shirt and blue jeans." She was smiling at him now. She drew up her right knee so that her skirt slid back up onto her lap, revealing the full tanned length of her thigh. Then she actually made a move towards the door, put he grabbed a bare shoulder. "That's okay. I like you the way you are." "Well, I would think so. You know, I was working in the thrift shop, and I saw this dress, and I was thinking, who would ever wear a dress like that? But I sort of took it home, and now I'm wearing it." "You look fantastic. Your mother let you go out looking like that?" He couldn't resist the jibe. "I snuck out the side door." "Well why don't we go over to the arcade? I can walk around with you on my arm and make every other guy very jealous." "I'm not that brave." "Well, what about the drive-in then?" Of course, every one of their dates the summer before had been to the drive-in. "What's playing?" "The James Bond movie. You haven't seen it, have you?" "No." She sounded like she was lying, but it didn't matter. He turned on the car and Richie Ashburn's distinctive voice emerged from the radio. "Baseball, yuck." She hit the FM button without asking, and the Phillies were replaced by Eugene Ormandy. "Classical?" "Of course, classical. Don't you like classical?" "Sometimes. Not tonight. I'm not dressed for classical." Now that, Tom thought, was not strictly true. Jan liked classical music. Jan liked to do little nude ballets. They never listened to rock in bed. Bach if they were in his bed, Joni Mitchell in hers. But now Maggie had found the Rolling Stones. She had turned up the volume. She was humming along. Then it was Steppenwolf, Born to be Wild. "We can fly so high, I never want to die." She sang that, then she shut off the radio. They were almost to the drive-in. "Tom, how long do you expect to live? Do you think you going to get drafted?" "I'm sure I'm going to get drafted." Jan was sure he was going to get drafted. There was a little clock in her head, counting down the months until he graduated. "Maybe the war will be over." "Yeah, sure." "You could go to Canada." "I wouldn't do that. What about you?" "I don't know what I'd do, if I were a guy." "No. How long do you expect to live?" Why did you even ask me that question? "I used to think that I would live to be very old, that I would get married and have a family. Now I'm not so sure." "You're scared?" "A little. I don't know why this happened to me. I don't know if it's dangerous." "Beauty is always dangerous." She rewarded him with a little smile. Of course her teeth were the same, gleaming white and perfect. He had just never realized quite how dazzling that smile could be. "Maybe," he added, "you need to live more for the moment." He tried to make that remark sound purely philosophical, purely abstract, just a suggestion to a friend. "Maybe." They had arrived at the drive-in. It was early still. The lot was almost deserted, but Tom headed for the outskirts. "Can we park closer to the stand?" Her request caught him off guard. "Sure, it that's what you want." He was feeling an immense wave of disappointment wash over him. The drive-in, live for the moment, the sun dress -- all those little signals had just been turned to nothing. "It's just that," she paused, "I have to pee all the time. I'm sorry." "It's okay." He parked right next to the rest rooms. "We don't have to be that close. Over there." "This is okay? It's sort of off to the side." "It's fine." It was getting dark enough to start screening the marching hot dogs. There was something new this year though in the parade -- beer kegs with plump bare legs and mustached heads with little Tyrolean hats. "Look at that," he said. "They've got beer." "Let's get some." "It will only make you pee more." He regretted that as soon as he said it. What was he thinking? But she was already out the door and headed for the ladies room. When she came out, she found his arms wrapped around a big plastic bucket, each hand clutching a paper cup. "That's a lot of beer." She took the cups and he shifted his grip to the bucket handle. "Cheaper this way." "No food?" "You're hungry already?" He had expected to wait until after the first feature to go after those marching hot dogs. "I'm always hungry. I eat and eat and I'm still losing weight." "Nice problem," he said, but maybe it wasn't so nice. "You go ahead with the beer. I'll get us something." "You sure?" "My treat." She came out to the car with three cheeseburgers, one of them for him, and a huge barrel of popcorn. It was still too light to start the main feature. "We're too early." "Longest day of the year, almost. Want to go do the miniature golf and come back?" "It's okay. We can just talk for a while." She emphasized the just talk by sliding away from him and piling two empty cartons between them. "You want my cheeseburger?" "You sure?" "I had big dinner." "So did I." She gave a little giggle and bit into it. She was already on her second glass of beer. Or maybe it was the third. "Do you ever read the Bible?" "Not much," he admitted. "I started to read it again. I've started to do a lot of things." She gave a little giggle. "You remember Paul's letters? He thought that the world was going to end, right away. He thought that everyone should be very good, very pure because God was going to judge them. What would you do, if you thought things were going to end, very soon, at least for you?" "Eat, drink and be merry." Tom hoisted his beer glass. "Maybe. I'm doing a good job on the first two." She drained the last of the beer out of the bucket. "You're not going to die. At least not right away." "Maybe. Maybe they won't find what's wrong and I'll just keep getting thinner, until I look like I just came out of a concentration camp. Maybe they will find what's wrong and fix it and I'll get fat again." "Maybe you'll just stay gorgeous." "Yeah, maybe." He attempted to refill his cup, but the bucket was empty. She gave a little, not so little, a very unladylike belch. "Oh my God," she started to giggle, then hiccupped. "I'm not used to all this beer, oh my God!" She went rushing off in the direction of the refreshment stand. Power of suggestion, he trailed after her, and waited politely for her to emerge. Just as well, she was leaning on his arm for balance on the way back to the car. "I'm merry, so merry," she was singing, not quite on key. Tom remembered that first date with Jan, the Blanket Permission dance, you provided a blanket, a bottle, and a girl, they provided setups -- and Jan had staggered back to his room, the blanket draped over her head. A little time bomb, waiting to go off -- and what was Maggie? "I have a confession to make," she said, as they got into the car. "I didn't quite make it to the ladies room. I wet myself." She started to giggle. "Good thing I was wearing a dress. But I had to rinse out my panties." "You'll get chafed." "I know. They're already, like, really really itchy. You don't mind?" She was wriggling them down her legs. "Well Tom, have you ever been in a car with a girl with no panties before?" "No," he lied. There was that ride to Monticello the summer before, when he had gone to see Jan during her brief unhappy career as a camp counselor. Two weeks she'd been off in the boonies, with another six in the offing. He'd driven up to see her on her day off, just an afternoon really. They'd gone back to his motel room and fucked to exhaustion, at least his exhaustion, and then driven over to see his roommate. The road had been deserted, his hand had found her lap, somehow, he didn't remember why, the panties had come off. Then all of a sudden they were in town, and she never had a chance to put them back on. "Do you think you can behave yourself?" She giggled again. "Not a chance." She gave another giggle, but instead of sliding next to him, she moved as far away as she could, over against the passenger door. What game was she playing? He tossed the debris that separated them into the back seat and slid over next to her. She was shivering. "Are you okay?" "I'm okay." She took a deep breath. "How about you?" "I'm fine." The question startled him, but he realized he was trembling also. "Too cold?" "No, no. It's okay." The feature had started, at last. The opening credits were playing, sultry music and brief images of women who might have been naked in pastel lighting. Tom had seen it before, with Jan. That time he'd actually paid attention to it. It was one of their dinner dates where they started in his bed first and then worked their way downtown for dinner and a movie, then out to Brooklyn, and if her parents were asleep they would crawl into her bed and shed their clothes beneath the covers. Forget Jan. There was a beautiful girl shivering next to him, and she needed to be hugged to warm her up. There was a beautiful girl crying, and she needed her eyes kissed, and then her lips. There was a beautiful girl sitting next to him with no panties, and his hand was on her thigh, close to where those panties should have been. Her hand was on his wrist, but it wasn't stopping him. She didn't have her legs pressed together. He kissed her, hard, tongue thrusting into her mouth, and he moved his fingers upward. Of course, he knew what he would find there. He knew how to slide along the moistness of her groove, how the find the little nub, not so little, a lot bigger than Jan. She was gasping at his first touch. Her hand was still on his wrist, but more now to hold it in place. She pulled one knee up, and he sent his little finger back to find her anus. Coyly, coyly, thumb on the clit, middle fingers working their way into her moistness, and that little finger -- it was being massaged now by a tight ring of muscle. The time bomb was ready to explode. There was a tapping at the window, a flashlight shining in on them. The security guard was making his rounds. She sat up and smoothed her dress back over her lap. "I guess we're getting started too early." A car had pulled up next to them, full of little kids. "We could go somewhere else." "No. I want to see the movie. We'll just have to behave ourselves for a while." She sat there, prim and proper as she could be in a sundress with no panties, looking straight ahead at the movie screen, but her hand was on the zipper of his shorts. He gave her a little help. He unbuckled the belt. He undid the button. He slid the shorts down, and tried to pull his shirt over his lap to hide his erection. She was starting to stroke him. No, she was sizing him up, opening and closing her hand to measure the length of his shaft. "You're going to get us arrested." He pulled her hand away. "All right. We'll just sit here nicely and watch the movie." She slid over and sat on his lap. "What could be wrong with that?" She hunched up a little and pulled up the back of her skirt, so that it was out of the way. He rolled down his shorts so that he could feel her cool thighs against his. She reached beneath her skirt and started to stroke again. Then she shifted, she gave a little grunt, and he was sliding within her. "Oh! It worked!" He could feel her hand tracing around the intersection of their flesh. "I've been practicing," she added. "Practicing?" "With a dildo. What? I didn't want my first time to be a problem. I didn't even want anyone to know it was my first time." "Good idea." I wish Jan had done that, he added to himself. It would have saved a lot of trauma. "But this is, your first time?" "Yep. I've been getting ready for a while now. Got the pills, got a book, got the dildo." "And the guy?" "Not at school. I'm a straight arrow, remember." "Summer rules," he muttered. "Yeah," she giggled, "summer rules. I'm so glad it's you. Do you want to get married?" "Not tonight." "Tomorrow then. We'll fly out to Vegas and get married. What?" She could feel him shriveling inside her. :"Just kidding," she added, too late. "We have another year of school." "I'll drop out. I'll come live with you in New York. I'll be a supermodel and we'll have a huge apartment. I'll pay your way through grad school." "It may be the army. It will be the army." "Oh. Maybe I'll be a centerfold instead.." One of the Bond girls was filling the screen with cleavage. "What do you think?" she giggled. "How do I stack up, so to speak?" She found a hand and put in on a breast. She wiggled it out of the top of her sun dress. Just in time Tom saw the flashlight heading their way again. "You're going to get us arrested!" He pulled the dress back up just in time. The flashlight swept across them. Tom tried to keep his expression perfectly blank, but Maggie was giggling. The flashlight lingered for a moment, and moved on. Summer Rules "What is his problem?" she fretted. "They never bothered us last year. Don't they know people come here to make out?" "We're doing a little more than make out. It's too early. It's still family hour. It's too early to fuck," he added, hoping to shock her. "To fuck. That's what we're doing. I'm doing it! I'm doing it! Look at me everybody, I'm fucking at the drive-in!" She was yelling at the top of her lungs. Fortunately, the windows were closed and on screen a helicopter was exploding. She started to rock back and forth a little. "Stop that." "You don't like that? It feels like you like it." "You're going to get us arrested." "You keep saying that. What do you want me to do? This is what the book said you were supposed to do next." "Not if you have three little kids staring at you. Just sit still and watch the movie." He reached down beneath her skirt. "No gasping, no twitching. Poker face." He'd learned to do this, sitting in Jan's bedroom, in her apartment, with her parents talking in the room next door, the bedroom dark except for the TV, but the door part way open. He found her clit, buried in soft curls, right next to his balls. Actually, he was bringing them both off. She'd been close before. It didn't take much, no more than a minute. He barely had time to keep up with her. "Oh my God! Oh my God!" She was scrambling off his lap. "What's the matter? Did I hurt you?" "Got to pee!" * * * * The next morning he got a phone call from his beloved. Actually he awoke to his mother pounding on the bedroom door. "Hey, sleeping beauty! Get up! Your girl friend is on the phone!" "Maggie?" He was surprised she was awake. They had lasted at the drive-in through three features, and equal number of buckets of beer, half a dozen cheeseburgers, two root beer floats, four orgasms for him, at least twice that many for her. He wasn't sure how he had managed to get the car back in the garage, both of them to their respective beds, but here he was, bloated, hung over, drained, and utterly content. "Not Maggie. The other one." The whore, she added, not quite under her breath. Tom had made the mistake of introducing Jan to his parents, and the contempt had been mutual. Ozzie and Harriet, she called them, and they did look like movie stars, they did live in perfect suburban respectability, and hadn't they produced him? Of course, Jan's parents hated Tom just as much. Her father had tattoos from Auschwitz. Tom was an Aryan devil. "Maggie is such a nice girl," she added, "a girl who is worthy of you. Did you have a nice time last night?" "Yes mother." "You were drinking." "I'm allowed to drink. It's legal." "Tom, you know I'm worried about you drinking and driving." "The car is in the garage." "Just because you got away with it this time, don't think -- oh, you think you're invincible. And those trips you take up to see that little whore." She said it right out loud that time. "Don't think I don't know what's going on." "Mom, I'm up there all year." He paused, then went for the kill. "Why do you think that's any different?" "It's not in my face. Tom, you are so, so ... look, do you think you've reinvented human nature, you and all these other hippies? Well you haven't. You're playing with fire. You're going to get burned some day." 'Don't play with me 'cause I'll cream in your face'. That's the way his roommate had sung those lyrics. But his mother was right. He had lit the match, he had lit the fuse, he had set off the bomb, first with Jan, and now with Maggie. What if had been the other way around? Maggie was prettier. Maggie's parents didn't hate him, at least not yet. His parents didn't hate Maggie. But it didn't matter. He was in love with Jan, now and forever. Maggie was nothing more than a summer diversion. Wasn't she? And why the fuck was Jan calling him at this ungodly hour of the morning? Ten o'clock? Not even. How did women know? How did she know that he'd been unfaithful to her? Even though that's what he was supposed to be doing, seeing other people? Well, maybe not seeing quite so much of them, maybe not fucking them for five hours straight, broken only by dashes to the refreshment stand to pee and get more food and beer. "Finally." Those were the first words that came out of the earpiece. "Do you know how many quarters I've been feeding into this fucking phone?" "You're at a pay phone?" "Yes dear heart, I'm at a pay phone. I'm at the deli, I'm buying bagels, my number is coming up next. Look, I need you to come up this evening." "To see you?" "Of course to see me." "I thought we were on for next week." "We are on for next week. I need you tonight." What was he supposed to say? Gee, Jan, I'm totally fucked out? "I'm a little short of cash." That much was true. "Do you have enough to get on the train?" "I think so." "I'll handle it from there. My treat." "Your treat?" Jan had never paid for anything. "My treat. Please, Tom, this is really important to me." "Okay." "I'll meet you at Penn Station. Usual time?" "Okay." "Wear something nice." The phone clicked dead. "What was that all about?" His mother was all over him. "I have to go to New York this afternoon." He gave her a look of mixed hope and desperation. "You can take me to the station?" "I could, possibly, take you to the station." His mother glared at him. "What is so important that you need to go on such short notice?" I don't know, he started to say, but he knew that wasn't going to cut it. Think, Tom, think. That's what you're supposed to be good at. But his felt like it was filled with cotton balls, no, little balls of steel wool. "She got tickets, at the last minute, to a musical." God, if she'd been listening in on the other line he was dead meat. He held his breath. "A musical? What musical?" What musicals were there? Hair. No, Mom wouldn't go got that. "Hello Dolly," he blurted. "Hello Dolly?" His mother gave a gasp. "She got tickets to it? Oh, I would give anything to see that." "You did see it. Here." "The traveling cast. Oh, Tom, Carol Channing -- you have to bring back the program. Promise?" "Promise. Got to go." "Go where?" "Swimming." "You don't have time to swim." He did not answer. He just pulled on his swim trunks and running shoes and headed for the pool. It was about a mile, maybe a little more. He went fast, and by the time he got there his guts were ready to purge themselves of the excesses from the night before. A quick rinse, forty laps in water that still had a morning chill, and he almost felt human again. He napped on the train. By the time he got to New York he was feeling a lot better. Well, worried. His mother was bubbling with enthusiasm. His father had even pressed a wad of bills, almost fifty dollars, into his hand as they left, and told him to be a gentleman. A gentleman, a gentleman. He had always laughed at the way his mother would entangle herself in a web of deceit, one little white lie after another. Now he had done the same thing to himself. Well, he would work his way out of it one way or another. Somehow, he always did. The dread, the danger, the adrenaline rush was better than sex, well, not better really, last night, fucking right in front of those little kids, that had been a double rush, a triple rush. Jan was waiting for him. Actually, he almost missed her. She wasn't wearing one of her little hippie cotton sun dresses. She was wearing something sheer and slinky, something you would wear to a trendy club or a fancy restaurant. Her hair was different, her face was glowing, all of her was glowing. She looked fantastic. And, she wasn't alone. She was with an older couple, well, not really old, late twenties, but old enough that they definitely were not teenagers. They were dressed even more elegantly. They were the most beautiful people he had ever seen, people that you saw in the fashion ads in the Sunday paper, but never in real life. There was a little space around them, in the crowded station. No one dared to come too close, but everyone was pretending not to stare at them. "Tom!" She rushed up to kiss him. "'C'est lui,'" she said, in French. "'Mon amant'." My lover. She would never put it that way in English. My boyfriend, maybe. But somehow it was okay in French, like 'merde' or 'cont'. "I am Claude," the man proffered a hand. "'C'est ma femme, Ivette.'" "Your wife?" Tom repeated in English, just to make sure he had understood correctly. "You're married." "Yes, married. I understand that you and Jan have, in your relationship, summer rules?" Jan gave a little smirk of confirmation. "For us, it is always summer." They were walking past a bar in the station concourse. "Come," Claude said, "let us sit down and talk. You would like a beer?" Tom was still trying to recover from several gallons of cheap beer the night before. But he needed a drink. He really, really needed a drink. "Gin and tonic." "Ah, excellent choice. Really, you look like a young Mark Twain." That was true. Tom was wearing his seersucker suit, his favorite summer suit. He felt dowdy, compared to these elegant strangers. "You will need a tie," Claude frowned, "for dinner." "I have one. It was too hot on the train." "Very well." "Look at me," Jan said. "Aren't you surprised?" "I'm flabbergasted. You look like a fashion model." "Our treat," Claude said. "Our little surprise for you." "Your treat? You bought her the dress?" "The dress, the perm, the shoes." He hadn't looked at her feet, but she was wearing beautiful sandals, the kind that cost hundreds of dollars, and her toes were perfectly manicured. "Makeup, manicure ..." Tom's head was spinning. He was trying to estimate how much money Claude had just spent on his girlfriend, his 'amante'. As much as Tom was going to make all summer, at least. "They are going to get me into the business," she added. "I'll be making serious money." "You're a pimp?" Tom blurted it out. "A pimp? No, not precisely." Claude gave a little chuckle. "He's a designer," Jan said. "Ivette is a model." "Is there a difference," it was the first time Ivette had spoken, "between a model and a whore?" "A model must be willing to do what is necessary," Claude said. "Why am I here?" Tom was looking at Jan. He didn't know this girl, this woman. This wasn't the girl he had thought he was in love with. "Tom, this is all happening so quickly, and it's wonderful, but I want to make it work. I want to make it work, for us. Really, I do. I love you." She leaned over and gave him a little kiss, and the top of her dress fell away. "I love you too," he muttered without too much conviction. "I guess you ran out of money for lingerie?" That was enough to make his beloved blush. She squirmed a little, crossing her legs even more tightly. She hadn't looked that squirmy since that lunch in Monticello. "There is a special way a woman moves, if she is naked underneath her clothes," Claude said. "I never wear anything under my dresses," Ivette added, "unless, of course, it is the wrong time of the month." "That's not a problem for me." Jan relaxed. She even opened her legs up enough to let Tom know for sure she was bare assed. "Wrong time of the year is more like it." That wasn't quite true, but her periods were very irregular, frighteningly so until she had finally gotten an IUD. No pills for her, she had no interest in bleeding that often. No periods, no boobs, it was as if she had never really reached puberty. Maybe that was what made her sexuality so unsettling. Maybe that was what had attracted Claude to her, what had made him dress her up like a little girl gone bad. Pervert. Of course, what did that make Tom? He had never realized how exotic she was. He wanted her, desperately, more than ever. "Jan thinks you have potential as a model. You know, underwear, blue jeans, that sort of thing." "He's got a beautiful body," Jan said. Brilliant, and with a beautiful body. She'd said that once, in the middle of a bitter fight, then added "and that's all." Well, what more was there? "We must see," Claude mused, "if the camera is his friend. When we return to our apartment, we will take some pictures of you. If they are worthy, we will contact some of our friends." "The question is," Ivette broke in. "Is he willing to do what it takes to succeed?" "Is that why I'm here?" Tom got up. He was ready to catch the next train home. "This is some sort of evaluation? Not just to see how pretty I am?" "Tom, please." Jan caught his arm. "It was supposed to be a wonderful surprise. We're going to a really nice restaurant, and then to a club where the beautiful people go. And then ..." "And then?" "We will have a night of adventure," Claude drawled. "Think of it, Tom." Jan had leaned in to whisper in his ear. He didn't know who this person was. She wasn't even wearing Jean Nate. "Think of what we can do, with four instead of two. Two girls and one guy, two guys and one girl. Double penetration. I really want to do that. Girl on girl. Don't you want to see that?" "Guy on guy?" Tom pushed away and waited for an answer. The ladies were poker faced, trying not to giggle. Claude just gave a little shrug. It was time for Tom to leave. Instead, he ordered another gin and tonic. "There is one thing." "What?" Claude asked. "We have to see Hello Dolly." "What?" Jan was looking at Tom in utter disbelief. "We need to do what?" "I told my mother I was coming up to see Hello Dolly. That you had last minute tickets. What? I had to tell her something. It was the first thing that came into my mind. I suppose," he was looking at the other three, "we can't get tickets?" "It is not the expense, or even the difficulty." Claude was visibly irritated. "It is the ennui. Surely you could have come up with a more entertaining alibi." "You don't know his mother," Jan grumbled. "I would like to see it," Ivette offered, so timidly they almost could not hear her. "You what?" Claude was giving her the same look Jan had bestowed on her lover. "I would like to see it. I have wanted to see it for some time now." "Well why didn't you tell me so?" "You would regard me with the same contempt that you are showing now. Nevertheless, I am willing to procure the tickets." Her choice of words gave some hint of just what she might be doing to obtain them. She started to head to the pay phone on the back wall of the bar, but Claude held her back. "Wait. Tom, you understand, that you are asking considerable sacrifice of us. It is only reasonable that you pledge your full participation in our ... adventures." Tom flushed. "Which means?" "Ah, 'mon ami', it is like buying a yacht. If you have to ask ..." "Anything you can imagine," Jan said. "Maybe some things you can't." "Nothing that will harm you," Claude assured him. "Nothing painful?" Tom did not like the way Ivette choked on her drink. There was a pause, too long perhaps. "That we will not promise," Claude said. "Since when is adventure without pain? Surely you and Jan have caused each other some discomfort, perhaps you have even found that you relish that sensation." "He likes his balls squeezed," Jan said. "He tells me to dig in my nails and rip them off. Some day I may really do it." "I'll do it," Tom sighed. "I guess I really don't have much choice." "Excellent." Claude and Ivette both went back to the phone. There were a couple of calls, a whispered consultation. Jan and Tom did not say a thing to each other in the meantime. They wouldn't even look at each other. After a few minutes, Claude returned to the table. "Ivette will join us at the restaurant. She is fairly certain that she can obtain the tickets. We will dine somewhat earlier than planned. I hope that you are already hungry?" "I'm starving," Tom answered. The wad of cheeseburgers from the night before had worked their way through him, thankfully, while he was still on the train, leaving an aching void. No breakfast, almost no lunch, but he was ready now, more that ready, to eat something. The prospect that both ends of his digestive system might be violated later in the evening did nothing to spoil his appetite. "Excellent." They left the bar and walked uptown a few blocks. It was late afternoon, but still oppressively hot. Tom was wearing the tie now, and it only made things worse. He could feel sweat trickling down his back. Claude was in a suit also, with the jacket buttoned. Somehow he was not sweating openly, but his face was turning red, betraying him. Only Jan was dressed for the climate, almost naked. Her dress barely covered her thighs, and on the top it consisted of two thick shoulder straps, arranged to hide her nipples, most of the time. Short as it was, the skirt was slit, slit to the clit, his roommate used to say, but this was even higher, almost to her waist. Any hint of breeze was pushing the wispy fabric away, revealing the smooth globes of her cheeks. "You're going to get us arrested," Tom muttered. Just at the moment, two cops on foot patrol came around the corner. They gave her a first glance, then a second. Tom blushed. Jan looked defiant. Claude gave them a little nod, and they moved on. The restaurant was on the next corner. Tom recognized it. They had walked past it, many times, on their dinner and movie dates. Once, they had stopped to look at the menu, and given a little laugh of disbelief. The least expensive appetizer cost more than they were used to spending for an entire evening. Now they were going inside. It was cool inside, almost too cold. Tom was comfortable. Jan was starting to shiver. They were ushered to a table near the window, a table covered with heavy white linen, adorned with flowers. People walking by on the street were giving them glances of envy. "What would you prefer for an appetizer, Tom?" Claude asked. The menu was entirely in French, with no translation. "'Les escargots'?" "Too slow." Jan could not resist. "Tom only likes fast food." "I'll have the truffle bisque." "Ah, an excellent choice. The season is so short. And you, my dear? You seem very pensive. Perhaps you are looking forward to the rest of the evening? You must learn to enjoy the pleasures of the moment." "I'm thinking about the double penetration." She dabbed at her thighs with the heavy white napkin. It was not sweat that had moistened them. She leaned forward to whisper. "I want Tom behind me, Claude in front. I want my tongue up Evie's butt." "Not this butt." Ivette had joined them. She winced as she sat down. "This butt is out of action for the rest of the night." "I gather," Claude looked at her with a mixture of amusement and concern, "that a simple blow job did not suffice?" "Or a simple fuck. Ooh," she winced again as she shifted. "Evie, dear, you are not encouraging our friend." "Oh don't worry," she gave a little wave of unconcern. "Claude is very gentle. His prick is not too big." That was enough to provoke an angry flush from her husband. Tom had a sudden suspicion that it was part of the reason they operated under summer rules. "Don't worry," Tom said, "I made a promise. I'm not going to back out now." "Well," Claude said, "of course we can bind you to do as we wish." Tom wondered if that was a legal or a physical binding. "But your enthusiastic participation would be so much more gratifying." The appetizers had arrived, along with an aperitif "Have you ever participated in," he paused, "sodomy?" Tom nibbled on a piece of bread. They even charged for the bread here. Each roll cost more than a Big Mac. "Of course. Many times. With Jan." he added, and she gave a gratifying little flush of embarrassment. "Ah yes, Jan does have a delightful predilection. It will make her life as a model so much easier. For my poor wife it is always a pain in the ass, so to speak?" Now it was Ivette's turn to blush. Tom could not believe that they were in an elegant restaurant having this conversation. It was not as if they were tucked away in a corner. They were at one of the most prominent tables, four beautiful people who had stopped conversation as the entered the room. Everyone was sneaking glances at them. Eavesdropping, too, most likely. Summer Rules "This is not the question I was asking," Claude went on. "Have you, yourself, ever been," he paused. Tom was shaking his head before he added, "sodomized?" "Nope." Tom tried to make it sound casual, but he was trembling. It was all he could do to get the bread back on to its little plate without dropping it. "Never? No priest? No tutor? No relative? No friend at boarding school?" "He didn't go to boarding school," Jan offered. "Ah, well. Then, you really do not comprehend what sex is. You may probe in as many ways as you can, but until you have yielded yourself, until you feel other flesh sliding within you ..." "'Viole,'" Tom muttered. "'Elle a senti cette autre chair qui se glissait dans la sien ...'" "Ah, you are well read." "He's a genius," Jan said, but then she added, "just ask him." She frowned at his scowl. "Can't you see how he glows?" "Yes my dear. That is why we will have to discover if the lens will also see that glow. We will have to see if his beauty will survive. My friend, are you not intrigued? Do you not want to know what your lover feels, as you impale her? Do you not want to know what it is like to be driven to pleasure, to be the receptacle of desire?" "Maybe," Tom admitted. "Maybe." "Think about it. Ponder it. It will provide you an antidote for the ennui of Carol Channing." In fact, it did not. He was snoring by the middle of the second act. * * * * It was nearly dawn by the time they reached the apartment. The musical had merely been an interruption of their plans. They had spent the rest of night at a club, until it finally, mercifully shut down. At least, mercifully for Tom. He hated loud music. He regarded dancing as nothing more than a prelude to sex, one to be avoided if at all possible. But Jan had taken dance lessons since the age of five. She moved with a sultry grace that made it all the more annoying that he was just standing there destroying his hearing, well, maybe moving a little, but not with any great enthusiasm. Finally he and Claude had retired to the side tables, and Jan and Ivette had continued to dance with each other, just like in high school, except the girls in high school had never rubbed against each other, kissed each other. At one point Jan had dropped to her knees, and Ivette had straddled her face, twitching to the music. Claude's hand had been on Tom's thigh. And Tom had just watched it all in a stupor, too dazed by the noise, the drinks, the haze of tobacco and marijuana smoke that filled the room. "Isn't this great?" Jan had run over to kiss him, a deep French kiss, full of the taste of Ivette's pussy. "I always wanted to do that! And now I have! Want a blow job?" "We must conserve ourselves," Claude had cautioned her. So Tom had waited, he had tried to get a little sleep. It had been like the wedding reception from hell, one that would never, never end. The apartment was immense, lavishly furnished in leather and teak and bronze, filled with statues and oil paintings. Not reproductions, the real things, paintings that could have been having at the MOMA. In the middle of the living room there was a huge piano, a Steinway, six foot grand. Tom found himself heading for it. Obsessive, that's what his mother called him, and she had teased him that morning -- was it still the same day -- about not missing his swim. But she hadn't let him play the piano, even though there had been plenty of time. No, she had hustled him down to the train station a half hour early, just to make sure he wouldn't miss his chance to see Hello Dolly. That half hour he could have been making music of his own. Plenty of time to get through at least one sonata, Opus 101 for sure, it was a shorty, or Les Adieux. He was unfulfilled. Compulsively, he was sitting at the keyboard. It had a nice smooth action, it was almost in tune. "Do you play?" That question came from Ivette. She sat down, most distractingly, on the edge of the piano. "Does he play," Jan said. "Well then," from Claude it was a challenge, "let us hear what you can do." No music. That was a problem. He did not have anything memorized. He opened the bench. There were several Schirmer editions there, no Beethoven, but some Mozart sonatas, a book of Chopin etudes. He pulled out the Mozart first. It was simple stuff, he could play it in his sleep. Well, he more or less was playing it in his sleep. But Claude was giving him that look of contempt, so he played it carefully, perfectly, well enough to provoke a gratifying "mon Dieu." Two more Mozart sonatas, then he risked a Chopin etude, the really simple one, but he milked it for all it was worth. He was going to try a harder one, but Jan was tugging at his shoulder. "Come on, Tom. It's time." "Time?" He turned, and saw that she was naked, hair still damp. Claude and Ivette were sitting on the couch, in dressing robes. "Time to prepare," Claude said. His robe was hanging open to reveal his torso, rippling with muscle, and his erection. Tom should not have been staring with that much interest. A shit, a shower and a shave -- yep, he needed those. "Give me a couple of minutes." He needed privacy, but Ivette barged into the bathroom while he was on the pot. He was sure he had locked the door, but maybe the lock didn't work. "Give me your clothes." That was reasonable enough. They were in the way. But she returned. "Wipe yourself. Get up. Bend over the sink." She was sticking something into his ass. He felt a rush of cold water. "This will aid you," she said. He barely had time to sit back on the toilet. "Better?" She came back in after she heard the toilet flush. "Somewhat. You could have warned me." "Perhaps. There was no need. You have already agreed to everything, have you not? I did not sacrifice myself for nothing? Stand still. Put your arms and legs out." She was rubbing a lotion over his body. "What is it?" "A cream to make your skin smooth, so that the camera will favor it." She took a wash cloth and began to brush it away. He put his hand were she had been. His arm was smooth, completely hairless. "Did you not notice how perfect Jan looked? Now you will match her in perfection." Too late, he realized she had rubbed the stuff over his groin, over his balls. "It stings." "Well, you will rinse it off momentarily. Close your eyes. Don't move. I want to leave your eyebrows. Keep your eyes closed." She led him to the shower, rinsed him off, gave him a robe. "Sit." She put the lid down on the toilet, and motioned him. She rummaged in a cabinet and found a set of shears. "I just got a haircut." "From a barbarian." She began to snip. "This is what my husband does to me, all the time. He has the grand ideas. It is up to me to work out the messy details." It was still steamy from his shower, too hot. She slipped off her robed. She was pressing her breasts into his back as she leaned over him. "Ah, such a gallant boy." She reached down to caress his arousal. "How gratifying. You will give me pleasure." It was more of an order than a prediction. "You will compensate me for the ennui you have caused me." "You got to see Carol Channing." "Yes, there is that. I have a surprise for you. I will show you, later." They went out to find the others sitting next to a hookah. "Come," Claude offered him the pipe. "This will assist you." "What is it?" Tom was suspicious. At the club, Claude had offered him cocaine in the men's room. Someone had been snorting it off of the marble lavatory. But Tom had declined. He wasn't going to try anything that dangerous, that addictive. That expensive. Come to think of it, Jan and Ivette had gone off to the ladies room about the same time. Perhaps that was why Jan had been so wild, so frenetic. "Hashish." "Hash," Tom mused, even as he was taking a puff. "Beer, you want to but you can't get it up. Hash, you can get it up, but you can't get off." "Precisely what you will need tonight, or should I say this morning. You would not want to cut things short with a useless ejaculation. Come, we will begin." They went into the next room. It was windowless, the walls and ceiling a light beige without adornment, and completely empty except for a little dais at one end, shrouded in thick white sheets. The floor was covered with a thick, soft white rug. The room was bathed in light, from floodlights in the ceiling, another rack of lights aimed at the dais. A huge camera was on a tripod, facing that way. On the floor, not too far away, Jan and Ivette were lying side by side, in sixty nine position, but not seriously licking. They were exploring each other with their fingers, maybe offering a tiny touch of tongue to the other's flesh. "Are they not lovely?" Claude was slipping the robe off of Tom's shoulders. "Truly, a living work of art. And you, my friend ..." Tom knew he was magnificent. He had spent enough time admiring himself in the mirror, consoling himself for Jan's absence. The summer's swimming had added tone to his arms, thickened his chest and shoulders. There was not an ounce of fat on his body. Each muscle, each rib, was carved like marble. "There are many pretty boys." Ivette had looked up to see how Tom's hair had dried. "Many beautiful bodies. Can he project? Can he fuck?" "Well, my dear, we will see. Come, Tom, sit on the dais and observe. No, not so stiffly, languidly, like faun observing his nymphs at play. Yes, think of what it would be like for your tongue to be the one that is probing your lover's secrets. No, do not touch yourself, lean back, and contemplate. Yes, yes." There was an explosion of yet more light, and the click of the shutter on the lens. "Excellent, excellent. Recline now, facing away enough so that your buttocks are visible. No, keep them closed, open a little, yes that is good, now turn your head to see the ladies." The ladies were more active now. Ivette had moved so that Jan's legs were around her shoulders. She had a hand on each thigh, forcing them apart, and she was fucking Jan with her tongue. "This is so great! No beard burn!" Jan gave a little look of concentration, then she began to come in earnest. Both women were straining, Jan's legs against Ivette's arms, so hard that each ridge of muscle was defined. "Tom, reach your hand forward and stroke yourself, just very gently. It is out of view of the lens. Yes, now try to ejaculate, just at the thought of what you will do with that lovely flesh. 'Oui, oui.'" The camera went off again. "Come, let us bring Jan into the picture." "So few shots," Ivette commented. Her face was gleaming, totally covered with her saliva and Jan's desire. "Either he will have it, or he will not. Come my dear, sit here beside your beloved. Really, are they not a delightful contrast? He, so full of Apollonian perfection, and she, so unsettling in her beauty, so dark, so waifish. A vampire child, a shroud for his luminescence." "You have been smoking too much of the hashish," his wife grumbled. "They are a couple of kids, a blonde and a brunette." "Perhaps. Perhaps. Tom, gaze upon your beloved with longing. Turn yourself a bit, pull up your front leg to hide your arousal. Good. Now, Jan, come inside that leg, turn your back a little to the camera, just enough to hide your nipples. 'Très bien.' Now nuzzle into his neck." "That tickles," Tom objected, but before that the camera had captured his moment of surprise. "Excellent, excellent. Now Tom, turn to face the camera more. Now Jan, I want you to impale yourself upon him. No, not like that. Use your talent for sodomy." "I knew that was what you wanted. I needed to get him lubricated." "Of course. How thoughtless of me. Now, Tom, you must hide yourself completely within her flesh. Good. Now, bring your arms under hers, and cover her nipples with your hands. Good. Now, Jan, lean back on your right hand, yes, like that, and cover your groin with the other. Perfect." "His balls are showing," Ivette objected. "Perhaps a little." "Too much." "Very well. Jan, scrunch up a little, just for a moment." Claude reached in to make an adjustment. Tom tried to pretend it was the doctor doing the hernia exam. "Is that better?" "It is still showing a little." "Well, a little is good. That little hint of flesh, that anomaly -- it will drive the observer wild, trying to decide what it is that they are seeing." "Perhaps." "Now, Jan, I want you to use that hand in your groin to bring yourself off. I want you to keep your expression completely blank. No one must know of your arousal. Tom, you may furtively manipulate her nipples as well. But you also, must avoid any betrayal of what is transpiring." Tom had played almost the same game with Maggie, the night before, except that he had been in Maggie's cunt, so wet and open that he could barely feel it. Jan's asshole was quivering around him, a tight sheath of muscle. Without the hash, he probably would have gone limp from the pressure. With the hash, he was being driven wild, coming without coming. He kept his expression perfectly calm. The camera was clicking away. "Excellent," Claude said. "Magnificent," Ivette added. "Your new perfume?" "Precisely. Well, enough of work. Open your legs, my dear." Claude came closer to the dais. "It is time to try out that double penetration." Tom could feel that other penis sliding next to his. He could feel Claude's balls rubbing against his own. He liked it. There was no need for Jan to suppress her arousal now. She was gasping, screaming, bouncing herself up and down on the two of them. Finally, she had spent all that she had to give. She collapsed onto the dais and began to snore. "Come." It was an order from Ivette. She pulled Tom down onto the floor and into her. My God, he thought, this is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, naked, wrapped around me. He felt nothing. Only the hashish saved him. He could move well enough, from memory, to make her come. Once or twice, the camera went off. Claude had turned it to focus on them. He was ready to get up. He was ready for some breakfast. But Ivette held him in place. He felt something brushing against his buttocks. Claude. He had almost forgotten, he had forgotten, in the haze of the hashish, the picture taking, the beauty of the women. But now Claude was easing into him. Gently, gently, and he didn't dare to move, he didn't try to resist. He knew what Claude was doing. He had done the same to Jan many times, in the beginning. Tease the outer ring open, get the tip of the penis within it. Then press gently against the inner ring -- and Tom yielded, without hesitation. He was being fucked. "Regard!" Ivette was shaking Jan back to consciousness. "Oh, he likes it! Look at that -- Claude is in up to his balls already. Tom dear, how does that feel?" "Nice." "Fuck him hard Claude. Fuck him like he fucks me. All the way out, now all the way in. Slam against his butt. You like that Tom? You like that?" She slapped his ass, as hard as she could. He responded with a little spurt of semen. She crawled underneath him and started to suck his dick. "No," Claude said. "Don't help him. You cannot touch his penis." "His balls?" "You may bite them or slap them." "Harder," Tom said. "What?" "Fuck harder. Yes, like that." He started to come. He was coming from a place he didn't even know he had, back behind his balls, and his prick was trying to ejaculate, but it couldn't, so he couldn't stop coming. Each thrust from Claude only made him come harder. And Claude himself was going into frenzy. He couldn't come either. He was moving faster and faster, in a blur. "'Mon dieu!' They will injure themselves!" But at that moment Tom erupted, not in a huge spurt, but enough, and Claude collapsed on top of him. * * * * "No, you do not have time to go swimming." His mother was staring at him with complete exasperation. They were in the car, on the way back home from the train station. "You know, I was really worried about you." "Why?" "Why? I called the hotel, and they had never heard of you." "Of course they've heard of me. I stay there all the time." "Not last night. Where were you?" "We stayed with friends." Tom immediately regretted that choice of words. "We? You spent the night with her?" "It was a party. Sort of like a sleepover." "Yeah. I'll bet. A fuck over is more like it." "Mother." Tom was genuinely shocked. "What? You think I don't know what's going on? God knows, if it was just you, I'd, I'd ... I don't know what I'd do. But everyone is like that now. You kids think you are so grown up, so fucking independent." She used that word for the second time, relishing it. "Just remember who is paying the bills." "Sure." Tom felt in his pocket, felt the little manila envelope Claude had handed him, after he had signed some papers. There were ten bills in that envelope, each of them a hundred. It was more than a semester's tuition. Next week, it was hinted, he could come back and return with even more. "Why can't I go swimming? It's not that late." "You're having dinner with Maggie's parents." "I am?" "You are. They invited you over and you are going. They were at church, so was she. You know, she is really very lovely now, a lot prettier than that little slut you're so fond of." "Mother." "Look dear, if you want to sow some wild oats with that whore, that's the way men are. But don't think it's serious." "I don't know what to think." That much was true enough. He'd just had sex with three, no four, people. Which had he enjoyed the most? Claude. How long had he come? Five minutes? Ten minutes? Forever? He had not suspected his body could do that. He had seen Jan do it, he had made her do it, he had played her like the most sensitive instrument, drawing out all the pleasure her flesh would yield. Claude had done the same thing to him, for him. Somewhere, back behind his balls, he was still glowing, still tingling. They had arrived home, mercifully. "You just about have time to get yourself cleaned up. Are you okay to drive yourself over?" "I'm fine." "You're not still high on some drug? You're not on some LSD trip?" "Mother." "Well how am I supposed to know? You vanish all night, and then you reappear looking like ... like ... Tom, what were you doing? You frighten me." "A little pot." It was almost true. "And the sex? Is there anything I can imagine that you didn't do?" "No whips. No handcuffs." "What!" His mother paused, then burst out laughing. "All right, I guess I had that coming." It was time to play his trump card. "Mom. I've got this for you." "The program! Oh, thank you! What's this? A photo of Carol? Autographed? To a very special lady? Tom!" Her joy, her amazement turned to concern. "How did you get this? What did you have to do to get this?" Tom did not reply. He could not help himself. He was blushing. "You don't want to know," he said at last. Of course, Yvette was the very special lady. She had paid the price with her butt, he with his. "Tom, dearest, I used to be a very attractive woman." His mother said it without pride, merely as a statement of fact. "You are still very attractive." "Don't try to flatter your way out of this. You can use your beauty as a shortcut. It's very tempting. Don't overdo it. Respect yourself." "Yes, Mother." That had gone really well. Tom wondered what was going to happen when his mother opened up the magazine section of the Sunday paper and saw that perfume ad. He was living on borrowed time. Not just the draft in a year, but now his life at home. "You don't have to dress up. Shorts and sandals are fine. They're having a barbecue." He had thought from that it was some sort of party, maybe her birthday although he had no idea when that might be. But when he arrived, there were no other cars in sight. No one answered the doorbell, either. He heard laughter, and walked around the house to locate it. Maggie and her parents were clustered around the grill on the back patio. Summer Rules "Nice." Tom had never seen Maggie's back yard. He had never realized quite how large her house was, how secluded. "I never knew you had your own pool." "Doesn't everyone?" That comment came from Maggie's mother. "Our neighborhood built a community pool. It's bigger." But not by much. This one was almost sixty feet long. And empty, on a hot Sunday afternoon. Swimming, he'd been deprived of his swimming. The urge to jump in was almost unbearable. "Well, maybe after dinner you two can have a nice swim." "I didn't bring ..." Tom started to blurt, but Maggie gave him a little kick under the table. "This is really a nice set up." "Well, the Lord has been very kind to us," her father said. "Oil heat, you know, I'm sure you've seen our trucks." "Of course." Somehow, Tom had never made the connection. "We started out with one truck. Now we have twenty. No son to leave it all to, just Maggie here." "She's driven a truck in a pinch," her mother said. "So have I." "I know what that's like," Tom laughed. "Cottage industry." "Well you understand then." Maggie's father was staring at Tom very intently. "It would mean a lot to me if a son would take the business over." "Father! Really!" Maggie was giggling. Maybe she was choking back tears. "Tom is going to be a famous mathematician. Or a composer. Or a poet." "That's the kind of thing you're studying?" Her father was getting worked up now. "Nothing like accounting, or finance, inventory control, advertising?" "I don't think they have those courses. Maybe in the business school." "So you're going to spend all this time and money and not know a lick about the real world. Children. Maggie is just as bad. Well, we've to get going." "Going?" "We're going out to Longwood to see the Pirates of Penzance." "We are?" "Just Mom and Dad. They couldn't get us tickets." "Sold out. I'm sure, if you went up with us, you could probably get in." "That's okay. We'll just hang out. I need to get up early tomorrow." "No drive-in?" Her father gave Tom a little wink and the two of them left. "I guess we're cleaning up." Tom started to gather up the dirty dishes. "My goodness, you're well trained. You'll make a great husband some day." "And take over your father's business." "Oh, Tom, he just really likes you. So do I." She gave him a little kiss. "Why don't you do your swim and I'll get the dishes cleared." "I didn't bring swim trunks." "Uh," she giggled, "we don't bother much with bathing suits." "What about the neighbors?" "They can't see anything. If they can, they don't mind." You hang out naked with your father? He wanted to ask that question, but he didn't. Instead, he left his clothes on a chair and dove into the water. The pool was heated, almost bath water. Eight strokes to get to the end, so he'd have to do sixty laps. He began to count strokes, count laps. All his attention was focused on the swimming. He hardly noticed that half an hour had passed. He got out to find her lying in a little patch of sun at the end of the pool. She was naked, of course, reading a book, facing away from him, her ass presented very temptingly. He made a gentlemanly attempt to ravish her, but without much success. Maybe it was just the cold water, but he wasn't getting hard. All he was able to do was to rub the tip of his penis in her groove. "No," she said. "I don't want to do that tonight. We did that already." "What do you want?" Just as well. It was amazing he could be tingling with sensation, and still so soft. "I want to try other stuff. All the stuff we haven't done yet." "That's a lot of stuff." It was going to have to start with stuff that did not involve penetration. He started to lick her instead, still from behind, her pussy and then her asshole. He ran his tongue from one to the other, over the sensitive spot in between, and she began to shudder. "That wasn't in the book. That wasn't how I came before. It was ... different." "Did you like it?" Different. He had found Jan's secret areas. He had been the explorer, she the terra incognita yielding to his invasion. She had never done the same to him. He had never known his body had secrets of its own. "Sort of." Her response startled him out of his reverie. "How about this?" He rolled her on her side, facing him, and began to work on her nipples, a hand on one, mouth on the other. His free hand brushed her clit, slid down her pussy, and worked its way into her asshole. "I want you inside me!" She reached for his cock, still exasperatingly limp, but he shifted away. "No." He stopped sucking for a moment. "Just like this." There was no more conversation for a few minutes, just the mute testimony of her flesh straining for release. "That was different again. I don't know if I was coming from my tits or my asshole. Tom, I want you to fuck me that way now." "On your tits?" "No, not on my tits. What's the matter?" She was slapping at his limpness. "I don't know." I've been fucking non stop for the last two days. Claude milked me dry this morning. "Did Daddy scare you with all that son talk?" "Maybe." He waved at her beautiful home, the huge pool, the magnificent gardens. "You can do better than this." "I kept telling him it was a bad idea. They were just trying to help, in their own way. You know, I'm not very good at acting. They know something happened Friday night. I think they want to make an honest woman out of me." She gave him a look that made him want to flee on the spot. But his clothes weren't on the chair where he had left them. His car keys were in the pocket of those missing shorts. He would have to run home naked. "You know, I really need to pee. Maybe that's part of the problem." "Me too. We should go inside. The mosquitoes are coming out. You wouldn't want to get a bite in a bad spot." She slapped him hard on the ass. "Mosquito?" "Maybe," she giggled. "Oh! There's another one!" "Stop it!" He had to run to make it into the little changing room next to the patio door. He was dribbling on the floor, gushing wildly into the toilet bowl, well, mostly into it. He had to mop up the floor with toilet paper. Then, just as he was about to leave, he realized his bowels were complaining just as badly. If was just as well there was a shower in the bathroom. He came out to find her in the kitchen, clearing the dishwasher. She was still naked -- no, not quite. She was wearing a formidable purple penis. "What the ..." "I thought you might want to meet Mr. Pinky. I've been practicing with Mr. Pinky quite a bit. Of course, I haven't been wearing him like this. What do you think?" She admired her reflection in the glass door of the oven. "You know when I went to buy Mr. Pinky, it was in that little store on the way into town ... " "The one with the peep shows?" "You've been there?" "No. I just drive past it every day. I can't imagine you going into a place like that." "Well I parked down the street and I wore dark glasses and a hooded sweatshirt. They probably thought I was going to rob the place." "I'm sure you looked very dangerous." That provoked another slap, even though there was not a mosquito in sight. "Don't make fun of me. I'm armed and dangerous." She pointed Mr. Pinky in his direction. "Anyway, I went in there, and the lady asked me if it was for my girlfriend. I was so embarrassed. She looked like the kind who would have a girlfriend, you know? Like, maybe she wanted me to be her girlfriend? So I said no. And she said that this was the kind I wanted for a guy. I was so surprised. So she said, honey, why don't you see if this is really what you want? So she showed me a movie how to use it." "A movie." "It was one of the peep shows. But it was just instructional. Sort of like sex education. I had no idea. Anyway, I really wanted to try deep throat and anal with a real cock, but if you aren't up to it yet," she frowned at the part of his anatomy that was not cooperating, "I thought, maybe ... " she trailed off, seeing how agitated he was. "I guess it's sort of a big deal for guys?" "Sort of." "I like, tried anal before the other way. With Mr. Pinky. I really like it. But if you don't want to ... I guess none of your girl friends ever did that for you?" "Never," Tom shook his head. His was trembling, but not with fear. He took a deep breath, and added, "never with a girl." There, he had said it. "What?" She dropped the dish she was carrying as that sank in. "With a guy?" The dish didn't break, but it clattered, deafening them. "You did it with another guy?" He nodded. "Did you like it?" "I liked it a lot. It was ... different. Like the things we did just now. I never knew I could come from that part of my body." "So you like guys?" "Not really." He sat down on the edge of the table. He really had to talk to someone about this. "I knew some guys who liked guys ..." "Some homosexuals." "Homosexuals." He repeated the word with horror. Was that what he was now? Was that what Claude had done to him? "I didn't like them as people. They were obnoxious and whiny, and they were fat assed, with little goatees." But Claude had been slim and elegant, as finely chiseled as Tom, almost as beautiful. "I like you," he added, after a long silence. He gave her a little kiss. His mouth was still full of her juices, but she did not resist him. "I like women. But I do like the way it feels." "Well, maybe this would be perfect for you. Bend over the table, slave!" She gave him another slap, on the face this time. "This is what the instructions said to do?" I "Yep. This is what they did in the peep show. The lady let me watch it for free so I'd know what to do. I don't have the right stuff though. I'll have to improvise. Damn it, where's the fly swatter?" "Fly swatter?" "Silence, slave!" A sharp slap in his ass indicated that she had found it. "Ooh, that left a nice red mark. Open your legs up." "No fucking way!" "Open your legs up!" Another slap. "This keeps happening until you do. Good!" The next blow hit his asshole and his balls. "Oh look at that! Tommy can get hard after all! Too late, Tommy boy." Another blow. "We're going to do this first!" There was no finger to prepare him, no gentle probing. She just pushed into him all the way, with the first thrust. He must have still been a little loose from his encounter with Claude, because it didn't really hurt. But Mr. Pinky was a lot bigger than Claude, a lot thicker, and he could feel himself straining around it. "Yield, slave! Open up for me!" "Yield?" Mr. Pinky was already filling him up completely. "Spread your legs out. Put your head down. Arch your back up." She withdrew, but only to get an angle to give him a couple more swats. She came back in, Mr. Pinky slid in all the way -- and it kept going. Tom gasped as it slid through the valves of the end of his rectum. Claude had not been big enough to get in that far. He realized that Claude had only given him a hint of what it could feel like. "Am I hurting you?" She stopped in concern. Hurting him? No, of course the fly swatter hadn't hurt a bit. "It's fine. You can go harder." "A little. You aren't allowed to come that way." "Not allowed?" She gave one or two more thrusts. Each one was enough, almost enough, to send him over the edge. But then she stopped. "It's my turn." She leaned over the table beside him. He was a bit more gentle. He worked the tip of his penis around her anus, opening it gradually. He was dribbling so much he had no problem penetrating her. "How does that feel?" "Nice. Make me come, but I don't want you to come yet." That really was not a problem. It had taken a lot to even get him up. Getting him off was going to be a major challenge. Maybe more of Mr. Pinky. That had almost worked. Well, maybe not. He had been glowing behind his balls, but not much had been happening in front of them. And now, here he was in her asshole, and he was just going through the motions. It happened with Jan sometimes, and it always led to disaster. He was in trouble, and the realization only made things worse. "Grab my tits. Pinch the nipples. Oh, harder, rip my tits off! Okay, that's enough. "Enough for now." She wriggled away from him, turned around, and put his cock in her mouth. It wasn't very clean -- little rivulets of brown fluid running down it and a little patch of shit just behind the tip, but she took it without hesitation, savoring it. "That's disgusting." But he came, explosively, so much that she started to choke. No swallowing though. She rushed over to the sink to spit everything out. Jan had never come close to doing that. He had to go wash himself off with soap and hot water after he'd been in her butt. But Maggie was quivering in delight. She came back for a second helping. She was coming again just from the thought of what she was doing. "You licked me there. What's the difference? You know, I was working with Mr. Pinky, and I'd take it out and give it a sniff, then finally I couldn't resist giving a little lick. Then I started to put it back in to lick some more. I have so wanted to do it with a real penis. And now I have! Did you like it?" "Apparently so. Maybe to much." "I guess." He was shriveled again. She put all him in her mouth, not too much of a trick, scraping her teeth against his balls. "I was hoping we could do some more. I wanted to try deep throat." "Not tonight." "Okay. Oh, Jeez, look at the time. We'd better get some clothes on." "You'd better take something off." "Oh yeah. Forgot about that." Tom took a deep breath. "Maggie, how much more do you want to do?" "How much more is there? We've already done about everything. Except the deep throat." "Two guys, a girl." "You mean, like an orgy?" "Something like that." "Maybe." She had retrieved his clothes. He started to put them on. "I heard back from the doctor yesterday." "Good news?" She shook her head. "I'm sorry." "I'm going to be like Achilles." She smiled at his puzzlement. "I thought you were the classics freak. A brief and glorious life." "I'm going back to New York next weekend. I want to take you with me." "Can I bring along Mr. Pinky?" "Absolutely."