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Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 01

By: sealawyer



Author's note: I wrote this novel out of sexual frustration during the months I spent working on an A.I.D. project in Oman, an extremely conservative Islamic state (no bars, movies, or extra women). It is copyrighted and is intended only for the private use of the readers. I would enjoy hearing from you.

Chapter 1 - Bromfield's Temptations

Louise's bra had disappeared while she was in the kitchen freshening our drinks. Her swollen, shapely bosom had come alive, jiggling and swaying under an unbuttoned, sheer white blouse. 

She paused in the doorway and struck a pose, flashing a grin and a quick, conspiratorial wink at me before showing herself to our startled guests. Her erect nipples and puckered areolas had become tiny tents -- dancing smudges -- clearly visible in the dim light through the thin material.

Ignoring Sandra, my wife focused her attention on the young woman's husband. I couldn't see Louise's face, but I could well imagine how she might have smiled and run her tongue seductively over her freshly painted lips as she bent deeply in front of him, deliberately offering him a view of soft, pear-shaped breasts while setting the tray on the coffee table.

I watched her resume her seat on the couch next to him, and cross her legs. Her brief skirt seemed even shorter as a tantalizing glimpse of creamy bare skin appeared above her sleek stocking-clad thigh. It was amusing to watch Jeff's eyes widen at the sight.

With a muttered mock apology, Louise pretended to tug her skirt down, while Jeff nervously wiped his moist palms on his trouser legs and darted a guilty look toward his lovely wife across the room. Sandra also looked nervous and said hesitantly, "Don't you think . . ." but Jeff had already returned his attention to my Louise.

Sandra sat up. Her lovely features were worried as she said more insistently, "Jeff, we really shouldn't stay much longer. The sitter will have to get home." 

Jeff nodded absently, his rapt gaze wandering between Louise's exposed bosom and her beckoning thigh, "You're right," he said with false enthusiasm, "We'll just finish our drinks and let these folks get to bed."

An uneasy silence fell. Louise cleared her throat and quietly said, "Jim, I'll bet our guests would like to hear that new CD you found to day." She turned to Jeff. "Jim is a Glenn Miller freak, but any big band from the `40s turns him on. Let him play this for you."

Nodding, I stood and opened the package. Then I started the CD player. The opening bars of Dorsey's Mood Indigo filled the room. I walked across the room to Sandra and offered my hand.

She hesitated, then shrugged and solemnly nodded. Kicking off her shoes, she stood, eyes downcast, and held out her arms.

She was stiff and uneasy at first, and I was careful to hold her formally. Then, gradually, as we swayed back and forth to the hypnotic strains of the music, she began to relax and I tightened my hold around her waist.

Abruptly she sighed, and, releasing my left hand, linked her hands behind my neck, pressing her slender body against me. I felt her firm little breasts against my chest. She smelled faintly of scented soap, and something else musky and erotic. For a moment, I wondered which of us was seducing the other. 

I made certain, as we moved to the music, that my partner faced continuously away from the tableau on the couch, where Louise was flirting outrageously with Jeff. Although I had seen Louise in action countless times before, it never failed to arouse me when, as now, I watched her rub his thigh, then lean forward to give him a better view of her bosom. When she closed her eyes and raised her mouth to his, I tried to pull back from my dancing partner because I was afraid Sandy would feel my growing excitement. 

I quickly glanced away when I saw him peer anxiously in our direction, then back in time to see him press his mouth tightly against Louise's. Even in the shadowy gloom, I could see their lips move as their tongues met and caressed.

Louise arched her back, straining her body up against his. He automatically cupped a soft breast through her thin blouse, while her little hand slid wickedly into his lap. The thickening excitement I felt was, by now, almost too powerful to conceal from my partner.

I was startled when Sandra murmured, her voice muffled against my chest, "Have they got it on yet?" 

For a moment, I didn't know what to say. Sandra evidently had known from the beginning what was happening. I felt my excitement ebb as I asked, "Were we that obvious?"

Sandra tilted her head back to look searchingly into my face, her gray eyes dark with concern. "We may not act like it, but this isn't the first time we've been in a situation like this. Apparently, it's not yours either," she added dryly.

I glanced at the couch again. Jeff had, obviously, decided to hell with it. Louise's blouse was open, and Jeff's hand was inside, openly rubbing and fondling her breasts and nipples. As I watched, she leaned back against the couch, her eyes closed, one hand holding his hand to her breast, the other busy in his crotch. 

I couldn't tell whether she had his fly open. 

The shadow in Sandra's eyes suddenly disappeared and she grinned, bumping her pelvis against my crotch. "What happened?" she asked innocently. "Is this broken?" She ran her hand down my side in open invitation.

I tipped her face up and kissed her soft lips. As I tasted for the first time the sweet flavors of her mouth, I felt her lips part. She touched my lower lip with the tip of her tongue, and I felt a tiny jolt of electricity in my scrotum.

The dance was over. Louise had seen Sandra kiss me, and that was all she needed to know. She reached for the lamp next to the couch and switched it off. The room was suddenly dusky, lit only by the hall light. 

I led Sandra to a big overstuffed chair across the room and sat down, pulling her down on top of me. She came willingly, and as she settled herself, she shyly fastened her mouth to mine.

Then she raised her head and looked solemnly into my eyes again. "We've done this only once before," she whispered, "I'm glad I like you, Jim. I could never do this with someone I didn't like." Then she added, "What are they doing now?"

I had been so busy unbuttoning her dress, now open to her waist, that I hadn't bothered to look. I peered toward the couch. Jeff was leaning back on the couch, his pants open and his legs spread far apart. Louise was naked to her waist and was on her knees between his legs; her head was moving up and down in his lap. 

"They're way ahead of us, Sandra," I said. She turned to look while I eased the straps of her slip off her shoulders and reached behind to unsnap her bra.

She turned back. "How do you feel when you see your wife do that to another man?" she whispered.

"Great," I replied. "It's exciting; almost as if we were sharing the experience."

"Have you ever, you know, done that?"

"Sure," I said, as I touched her delicate little breasts and stiffening nipples under her pretty little bra. Sandra's soft, moist skin felt like warm, living silk under my fingers. "I've tried it to see if I was missing something, but it must be an acquired taste like olives and beer."

She arched her back, pressing her firm little breasts against my hand. "Unfasten my bra, and chew on them," she urged softly, "hurt them a little."

After I released the catch, she shrugged her shoulders allowing her bra straps to slide down her arms. Then I leaned forward and sucked her entire left breast into my mouth, feeling her nipple tickle the back of my throat. Then I stimulated it by rapidly swallowing. 

"Oh, God, Jim, that feels good! Keep doing that and pinch my other nipple. Oh, that feels good!" Her voice was thickening. Her breathing was becoming noticeably faster and shallower.

Her weight was uncomfortable on my revived tumescence, so I shifted her to one side. That also gave me a better view of events on the couch.

Louise lay on her back, her skirt bunched around her waist. She wore no panties. I briefly wondered if they were also in the kitchen. Her left leg was hooked over the back of the couch. Her right leg was raised and widely extended. Gravity had flattened her breasts, but Jeff's attention was fixed on her exposed and fully engorged labia.

He was naked. He had been crouching over her, but now was moving into position between her legs. His rampant cock hung bull-like between his legs, sagging below his wrinkled scrotum. Louise reached up and guided him into her secret nest. "Do you want to see the main event?" I whispered.

"Oh, yes," she said, "Let's watch for a moment." She half turned to watch her husband energetically work his stiff young prick, inch by inch in quick successive thrusts, into my wife. Louise seized her lover's buttocks, urging him harder and deeper, all the while encouraging him by whispering, "Fuck me, darling, fuck me hard! Oh, that feels so good!"

"God, this is exciting!" Sandra breathed in my ear, "Feel me." She spread her legs slightly and placed my hand under her skirt on her damp panties. Then she began raining little love kisses on my face and neck. "Could you put a finger in me?" she whispered, while with her other hand, she groped for my zipper. I hunched up to make it easier for her, and slid my hand under the band of her panties where I felt her tiny, warm, moist slit. 

The couch creaked gently as Jeff insistently worked himself deeper and deeper into my eager wife. The sound became a rhythmic accompaniment as Sandra's cool fingers began stroking my swollen cock, which she had gently tugged through layers of underwear and pants. Meanwhile, I traced the outline of her nether lips with a moistened fingertip and then slowly pressed inward.

She studied my straining member. "Oh, it's so big," she said, instinctively choosing words Eve had probably used to inflame Adam, as she rolled it between the palms of her hands. "I wonder how this will feel? Do you think we can get all that in me?" Then she whispered more seriously, "Please be gentle. Except for a New Year's Eve party two years ago when everyone got drunk and naked, this will be my first time with anyone besides Jeff. I'm scared and hot, all at the same time! But please don't make me wait too long; I might chicken out!"

She let go of me and stood up. Her opened dress fell to the floor. She wiggled her slip down over her hips and swiftly bent to slide her panties to her ankles. "Now it's your turn!" she said.

I stood. While I was unbuttoning my shirt, she dropped to her knees and unbuckled my belt. Then she pulled my pants down and gently eased the elastic in my shorts over my rampant erection. I felt it spring forward when it was released.

Sandra fell back on the rug and lay on her back, spreading her legs. Her face was contorted with her need. "See how wet I am, Jim? Please hurry before I lose my nerve!" 

I heard Louise's familiar orgasmic moan as I dropped to the floor and slid my head and shoulders between Sandra's spread knees. I gently touched the moist tip of my tongue to the inner part of her thigh, slowly tracing a wet path up to the outer edge of her reddened and swollen labia. Pausing, I gently nibbled and pulled with my lips on her thin genital hair and outer lips, and, just as gently, traced her crease with my wet tongue.

Louise's moans were becoming louder and more insistent. I was spurred on by Jeff's grunts and the rhythmic protests of the creaking couch as the young man hammered himself into my wife.

Sexual tension hung like a heavy fog in the room, blurring my vision, sharpening my tactile sensations. Sandra exuded the musky scent of a woman in heat, and my erection was aching for relief. I slid the length of her body, pausing only to kiss that sweet and vulnerable place where her hips joined her pelvis, to poke my tongue into her belly button, and to lick between her breasts, tasting her salty warmth accented by the astringency of her perfume. I nuzzled and licked the hollow of her throat.

Suddenly, Sandra began to tremble. I held her slender body tightly and felt her stomach muscles begin to undulate against my body. She moaned softly in my ear, as her shuddering quiver grew more violent. Abruptly, she relaxed, giving a great sigh.

"Wow! That was a surprise," she whispered. "I never came that way before! You weren't even in me. Let me rest a minute."

I held her close, kissing her neck and jaw line while my fingers idly caressed her breast and nipple. The creaking couch, and Louise's moans and gasps, punctuated by the rhythmic slap of colliding male and female flesh, filled the room and served to further stiffen my already painful cock. I began to stroke Sandra's breasts more urgently.

She stretched, and murmured, "I want you in me, Jim . . . now!"

I rolled between her spreading legs. As my cock dragged across her hip, it left a viscous stream of precome on her skin. She felt it. "I guess you're ready, at that," she said. I braced myself on hands and knees, holding my rigid member at the moist entrance to her tunnel.

Sandra murmured, "Wait, lover. Let me get it wet." I felt the slightly abrasive feel of her genital hair against the tip of my glans as she rubbed it up and down her slit. "That's better," she whispered. "Please be gentle." Her little fist guided the tip of my cock into her secret opening. "I want you so badly, Jim," she said. "Push!"

I pressed myself against her her yielding vagina. At first, only my glans popped through her tight, wet opening. She writhed beneath me, kissing my chest, and humping her pelvis up to encourage me.

"Push again!" she whispered urgently. I crawled forward on my knees, while she seized her thighs and pulled her legs high in the air and further apart. 

I thrust into her a second time, and felt the tissues deep within her belly part as I sank deeper and deeper into her hot clasping tunnel. "More, more," she cried. "God, I love this!" I began working back and forth in her. Finally, I felt my scrotum slap against her perineum. At that moment, my brain went into neutral, and raw animal instinct took over. I began trying to thrust my entire body into that wonderful, mysterious well of life.

"Oh, God that feels good!"

It might have been five minutes later when I thought I felt Sandra's second spasm. Her clasping tunnel fluttered, and her legs began to tremble. She gave a long sigh. 

I could hold back no longer. I felt as if I were being drawn inside out; my seed began its exquisite journey across my aching back, up my urethra, and spurted into her thirsty, clutching womb with explosive force.

She opened her eyes and grinned up at me. "Wow!" I couldn't answer. I was drenched with sweat and was gasping for air. I could only nod.

Still firmly joined, we rolled to one side and collapsed in each other's arms. I must have dozed, because the next thing I knew, Louise was standing over us. 

"Would you like some coffee, Jim?"

I slowly untangled myself and stood up. Then I helped Sandy to her feet. "How about it," I asked. "You up for some coffee?"

She nodded. Hand in hand, we walked into the kitchen. Jeff was sitting at the kitchen table watching Louise bustle around setting cups and cookies on the table. "Does anybody need sugar or cream?"

It was a perfect domestic scene except that we were all nude. I sat in the chair opposite Jeff, and watched his wife move around the kitchen helping Louise.

Although both women were about the same height, had lovely soft hair and truly beautiful features, they were a delightful contrast.

Unlike Louise, whose heavy mane had a natural curl and always looked like a rumpled bed until she disciplined it with a few strokes of her brush, Sandy's hair was fine and until our passionate session on the living room rug, had been artfully coifed in an elaborate swirl atop her head, emphasizing her long, graceful neck and tiny ears. 

Louise was dark, full breasted, and rounded -- the quintessential earth mother -- while Sandy was slender, almost boyish, with small perky breasts. As I later learned, her light coloring was a gift from an Irish grandmother. Louise's coloring had Mediterranean antecedents. 

Louise trimmed her bush and fashioned it carefully at least once a week. This week, her rich, thick-lipped womanhood was framed below a tiny arrow of clipped hair. Sandy, on the other hand, had only a mere shadow of uncut blonde genital hair, coyly half-concealing the puffy, tight little seam between her thighs. 

Jeff was grinning. "You folks sure know how to throw a party," he said.

I grinned back. "Well, this is who we are, Jeff. What you see is what you get. We love sex and the company of beautiful people like you two." 

I felt a warm kinship toward him at that moment. "I only hope we didn't come on too strong . . ." I said, half apologetically.

Sandy flashed a smile at me and joined in the conversation. "Let's not kid ourselves, Jim, when Louise came into the room with her boobs hanging out of her blouse, I knew something was going to happen. I'm sure Jeff did, too." She looked toward her husband for confirmation.

He slowly nodded. "I may be only a dumb accountant, but when Louise flashed me, I figured something like this might happen," he said.

"You're not upset?" Louise asked, real concern in her voice.

"Heavens, no," Sandra said, shaking her head. "We've talked about swinging; what married couple hasn't? We even did it once. We've talked about threesomes, about opening our marriage; you name it, we've talked about it."

"Yes," Jeff said slowly, a shadow crossing his face, "We've talked about a lot of things but that doesn't mean we always have to do them, does it?"

Louise and I looked at each other. Remorse was setting in. She was sitting next to Jeff, and she leaned over his arm. Her right breast "accidentally" brushed his left biceps. "Did it bother you, Jeff, seeing Sandy with another man?"

He frowned. "I hate to admit it, but it did," he said passionately. "I know it's wrong to feel possessive, but dammit, I just can't help it."

Louise was good at comforting the remorseful. "Feelings are never wrong," she said soothingly. "They just are. I must admit I had mixed feelings the first time I saw the old man here screwing my best friend." She paused. "It's just something you have to work through. Most people do." 

She grinned at him. I couldn't see under the table, but judging by his expression, I knew she had her hand in his lap, giving him something else to think about. "There's something here I'd like to work through," she said softly, looking intently into his face.

Sandy started to say something, but Louise cut her off. Darting a meaningfully look at her, Louise said, "Why don't you call your baby sitter and tell her you'll be a little later than you planned?" At the same time, Louise gestured with her head. "The phone's right in there. Jim can show you. I think Jeff and I have a few things to talk over."

She stood. Jeff obediently rose to his feet. Louise reached down and taking his prominent manhood in her left hand, towed him out of the kitchen, saying over her shoulder, "We'll be back in an hour or so."

(to be continued)

Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 02



Chapter 2: Ancient History

Synopsis: Experienced swingers Jim and Louise have succeeded in seducing a younger couple. Louise has just taken the young man into the bedroom "to talk things over."

 *  *  *  *  

As I watched them leave the room, I congratulated myself yet again on my great good fortune being married to a woman like Louise. She had found Sandra at a Welcome Wagon tea for new neighbors. Their meeting was not accidental. The swinging scene in a small town is very limited, and we had been looking for an appealing couple to replace our previous swinging companions, the Johnsons, who had been transferred to his home office in Oklahoma.

Jeff and Sandra Morrison had recently moved into an apartment in our building. Louise had invited them to a Sunday brunch. After our first meeting, Louise had predicted, with that mischievous glint in her eye I knew so well, that given a suitable opportunity, or even a plausible excuse, the young couple definitely would swing. She had given them her picture test, just to make sure.

 "Here they are," Louise had said triumphantly, as she returned to the living room, a sheaf of Polaroid prints in her hand. She smiled at me across the room as she resumed her seat on the couch between Sandra and Jeff. Then she handed some prints to Jeff, and the remainder to Sandra. "These are the shots we told you  about, of our trip to the Zion National Monument last summer," she added.

 The two slowly examined and exchanged the pictures while I studied the young couple, particularly Sandra. I saw a very young slender blonde, with carefully coifed hair, dressed in a loose print blouse and knee length plaid skirt which she carefully arranged to cover her knees. She was a quietly attractive woman with classic features and a ready, friendly smile.

Her husband, Jeff, was a big man who looked as if he might have played college football, if his slightly crooked nose and slight limp were any indicator. He, too, exuded warm friendliness. I hoped I sensed an especially warm friendliness in his part toward Louise who was acting as a tour guide and conduit through whom the pictures were passed back and forth.

Suddenly, Jeff whistled. Grinning, he handed a shot directly to his wife who glanced briefly at the image, quickly dropped it on the coffee table, and blushed a bright crimson. 

I wasn't surprised. I knew Jeff had discovered a test photo, most likely a nude of Louise that she had deliberately inserted into the stack just to see how our guests would react.
"Oh, I'm very sorry," Louise said contritely. "I can't imagine how that picture got mixed in with the others." She made a half-hearted effort to recover the photo, but Jeff was too quick for her. He had scooped it off the table and was openly admiring it. Score one for him.

Unfortunately, Sandra evidently didn't share her husband's open minded attitude. She frowned at her erring husband who ignored her. 

"Are there any more like this?" he asked.
It was Louise's turn to look confused. "Well, yes," she said hesitantly, "but not in that pile, I hope." She looked earnestly at the young man.
"You see, Jim and I are naturists, among other things, and we enjoy the freedom of being totally exposed to the sun and gentle summer breezes. And I'll be honest. It's always a pleasure to see beautiful bodies. The invention of Polaroid photography was a blessing for people like us."

"Is a naturist the same as a nudist, then?" Sandra asked.

I smiled inwardly. Evidently, all was not yet lost. "Yes," I said. "It's a term for a person who enjoys nature and natural things, often including nudism."

Sandra looked at her husband. "Let me see that photo again, please," she said, extending her hand.

Louise stood while Sandra studied the picture, and quietly left the room. I knew she was going after more pictures. She returned in less than a minute, holding several pictures in her left hand, and the wine decanter in her right. Jeff eagerly held his glass up for a refill. Then he reached for the new pictures.

I stood, holding my empty glass, and looked at Sandra. "They've freshened their drinks. How about you? Ready for another?"

Sandra was still flushed. She nodded. "I think I could use one," she said, her face strangely solemn.

I went into the kitchen, and poured a generous slug of bourbon over crushed ice in my glass, and a smaller quantity of Scotch and water into Sandra's. As I walked through the doorway into the living room, I heard Jeff exclaim, "Jesus Christ! Who's that?!"

Without looking, I knew that Jeff had found one of Stan (The Man) Stevens' pictures. Briefly, I wondered which one Louise had selected. 
Sandra's face was a bright pink again as she gingerly accepted the photo from her husband. I glanced at it over her shoulder as I set her drink on her coaster. I was a little surprised that she would have offered this particular shot to relative strangers so early.

The picture showed two nude figures sitting on a straight chair in a paneled room. The woman was unmistakably a grinning Louise. She was perched sideways on one knee of a particularly hirsute man -- a man so covered with body hair that he seemed almost to be wearing a fur coat -- holding with both hands what appeared to be a short length of flesh colored fire hose that seemingly extended from his groin halfway to his chin. On closer examination, the fire hose, of course, became a huge erected penis.

Louise appeared flustered again. "Damn, I'm sorry," she said, "you weren't supposed to see that! But now that you have, well, I guess I'd better explain."

I listened attentively. I had seen Louise test people with that photo a dozen times, and I knew from experience that if they stayed after seeing that picture there was a good chance they would be willing to go further. The curious thing was that she invented a new explanation every time she showed it to a new couple. 

Louise stared blankly at the coffee table as if gathering her thoughts. Then she looked brightly at our guests and said, "I know this is going to sound just awful, but it was a perfectly innocent bet. We were at the club. It was raining and windy outside, so we were forced to spend the day in the lounge. Some of the men, Stan here among them, were shooting pool. Several of us women were sitting in the corner talking about this and that, when Stan made a difficult shot that required him to contort his body in a way that unavoidably drew our eyes to his extraordinary equipment, which, even when it was flaccid, probably measured at least eight inches. 

 "One of the women wondered aloud how big it was when it was erect. Well, you know how women are. Once someone dared broach the subject, we could talk of nothing else. When the game was over and the men rejoined us, we were too embarrassed to continue the conversation, but they sensed that we had been talking about them, and began teasing us into sharing our conversation with them. 

"Eventually, of course, it came out. Stan was very embarrassed of course, and was on the point of leaving when Jim, here, suggested that purely in the interest of science, I take him in the cloak room and see if I could find out." 

Jeff seemed interested but Sandra was scandalized. "Tell me you didn't do that!" she exclaimed.

"Oh, but I did," Louise replied. "Believe me, it wasn't easy. In those circumstances, many men would have been totally incapacitated, and they wouldn't have had nearly the burden to lift that he did. But he came through like a trooper."
Cheeks blazing red, Sandra asked, "How big was it?" 

Louise smiled complacently. "I'm not sure. Jim interrupted us after I had worked on him for about five minutes, just to take our picture. Poor Stan lost it after that. However, everyone, including Stan, wanted a copy of the picture. Stan said he was going to have it printed on his business cards."

Knowing I was a lawyer, Jeff couldn't resist the jibe. He looked at me and smiling, said, "He was a member of the Bar, I take it? Always looking for someone to screw?"

Sandra's mind was running in different channels. "He might have done better to put it on his Christmas cards," she said quietly.    

Immediately, she clapped both hands over her mouth and shook her head. "I didn't say that," she said. "Forget you heard it."

The evening wound down quickly after that. The Morrisons left after promising to return the following Friday for an early supper and an evening of bridge.

The card game, it turned out, had been a confused mish-mash of bad bidding and even worse playing. Sandra twice trumped her own ace. Jeff, perhaps misreading his partner's bidding, grossly overbid a small slam and went down seven tricks. 

Neither Louise not I did much better.
Finally, mercifully, at the end of the rubber, Louise decided it was time to put the game away. "Let's find something else to do," she suggested brightly. "It's obvious none of us have our minds on cards."

"I don't know about that," Jeff said archly. "I'm not in the mood for bridge, but maybe another game?"

Sandra's patience was wearing thin. "Don't tell me you want to play something as juvenile as strip poker?"

"Well, it was a thought," Jeff said defensively.

"Think again!" Sandra said firmly. 
Louise nodded in agreement. "Let me freshen your drinks," she said, as she stood and began gathering the empty glasses.  

And that's when Louise made her famous entrance that started the present ball rolling. 

Now I followed Sandy into the living room. I heard her talking quietly to the sitter at the other end. Satisfied, she cradled the phone, and turned to me, wrapping her arms around my neck. Her hard, pointed little nipples digging into my chest. 'Now where were we?' she said, grinning a wicked grin.

I held her close. My cock began to stir as it rubbed against her soft, warm belly. Her intoxicating scent filled my nostrils, and resulted in another involuntary twitch against her belly button. 

Obviously, she felt it because she pulled back. 'Before we get started, I want to hear about you screwing Louise's best friend.'

I laughed. "That was our introduction to swinging. Like you, we'd talked about it, but that's as far as things had gone until Louise's college reunion." 

I paused, thinking back. I hadn't thought about that party in a long time. "Louise had attended a women's college, so her former classmates were all female, all seemingly trying to outdo each other at the reunion in terms of their dress and husbands and so forth. That sounds sexist, but that's sure the way it seemed."

Sandy and I were sitting on the couch by this time. I was gently teasing the tips of her hardening nipples with the palm of my right hand, while she slowly slid her fingers up and down my growing cock.

"Go on," she said, pushing her chest forward against my hand.

"Well, Louise had a special friend -- Molly something or other -- who had married well. She asked us to join her and her husband in their suite after the party, I assumed, to talk over old times."

Sandy was beginning to squirm. "That tickles. Pinch that nipple a little, would you?" 

I obliged her. My cock was getting uncomfortably hard. "I'm going to have to do something with this pretty quick," I said, waving it at her.

She smiled. "Continue your story," she said. "Then we'll see."

"We got to their suite, and found we were at another party. There must have been four or five couples there. Louise knew all the women, of course. The booze, as they say was flowing like water, and everyone one was getting drunk. 

"I can be pretty dumb at times," I continued, "I didn't realize what kind of a party it was even after one girl -- I think her name was Nedra -- a tall, horsey kind of woman, loudly announced that Bob somebody or other was feeling her up.

"Naturally, that got everyone's attention. I turned to look. She was getting felt up, all right. Her dress was open to her waist. Her bra was pushed up on her chest, and a breast was firmly in the mouth of the man on whose lap she was sitting. Everyone thought it was a big joke and laughed." 

Sandra slid off the couch, and I watched her breathe on my cock, then touch the tip of it with her tongue.  "Like that?" she asked.

"Do you want to hear this story or not?" I asked.

"Sorry," she said. "I just got a little carried away. Won't happen again." I knew she was lying by the way she grinned at me.

"Where was I? Oh yes, Nedra was getting felt up. That certainly got my undivided attention. I began to wonder where Louise had gone to, and started looking around the suite.

"I found her in the corner with a cute little redhead. They were stroking each other, and while I watched, the redhead pulled Louise's blouse from her skirt and unbuttoned it. She was way ahead of Nedra."

"This is getting interesting," Sandy said. "Then what happened?"

"It took a little getting used to, seeing my wife making love to another woman. And she was, too. She had the redhead bare to the waist by this time, and they were rubbing their tits together, while they kissed."

"Does Louise still like girls?" Sandy asked.
I nodded. "Yep. She still swings from both sides of the plate. Anyway, to go on with the story, I was getting horny as hell watching those two women. Suddenly, a woman standing next to me said, `Turns you on, just watching those two, doesn't it?'

"When I turned, Molly was standing there, sort of balanced on one leg, her hip thrown out, and her thigh shining through a deep slit in her dress. I swallowed, and said "It sure does.'

"She laughed, and said, `well, you've heard about sauce for gooses and ganders, haven't you?'

"Like a fool, all I could think to say at that moment was `Where's your husband?'

"She laughed again, and pointed across the room at the opened bedroom door. `He's in there, buried to his balls in Lydia Smally, if I'm not mistaken. Amos, Nedra's husband is in there helping him. That leaves just you and me.' 

"Then she looked at me more closely. `Did you think all we did in a women's college was pick daisies and dance around the May Pole?'

"The party had turned into a real `party' by this time. Nedra, the girl who had started it, had pulled her dress up and down at the same time so it was wadded around her middle. Her friend was still sitting in the chair, his pants open and his cock sticking in the air. Nedra was fucking him by bouncing on his lap, her tits flopping every which way. Louise and her friend were naked, lying full length on the floor, stroking each other's breasts and sides.  


"I've got to tell you, Molly was looking better and better. She put her hand over the front of my pants, and said, `What do you think we should do about this?'"

Sandy suddenly took my cock deep into her throat. This girl had sucked cock before. Sound came out of her throat. I think she said, "Go ahead; I'm listening."

"'Don't talk with your mouth full,' I admonished, adding, 'Molly had done this before. She had my pants open and whipped her dress over her head in a single motion. Except for her stockings, she was completely naked. She dropped to the floor and pulled me into her.

"If it's possible for a man to be raped, that's what happened to me. Louise and her friend began to look for survivors, and now you know the rest of the story," I concluded in my best Paul Harvey voice. 

"I'd like to rape you," Sandy said, after she took her mouth off my cock. "Come here." She was lying on her back, her feet flat on the floor, knees bent, and legs spread at an obscene angle. "First I want you to lick me here." She peeled the little cover over her clit back.

I dropped to my knees, crawled between her spread legs and gently touched her clit with the moist tip of my tongue. She jumped as if I had touched her with a cattle prod.

"Yesyesyesyesyes," she said. I couldn't see, of course, but I imagined her eyes were screwed tight shut. I felt her little hands on the back of my head. I tenderly nibbled on the little fellow. 

"EEEEEEyah!" she cried. Her thighs, tightly clamping my head, began to tremble. "EeeeeeeeYAH!!," she shouted.

She tensed, then slowly relaxed. I let her rest for a moment before I began sliding up the length of her body. I licked my way up her belly, and ran my tongue between her breasts and into the hollow of her throat.

She had spread her legs as I crawled up, and when my cock was at the moist entrance to her tunnel, she carefully took it in both hands and after rubbing it up and down her slit, tugged it into her waiting wetness. 

My glans popped inside her. Her hands were on my ass, and she pulled me into her. I felt the wonderful warm, wet, clenching of her vaginal muscles as my stiff erection penetrated deeper and deeper into her body. 

 "Fuckme fuckme FUCKME! Oh, God that feels good!"

 I pulled my cock almost out of her, then began teasing her with a slight in-and-out, in-and-out motion, moving no more than an inch in either direction. When I sensed she was ready, I slammed myself deep inside her. Then we settled down to some good old fashioned fucking. She was mouthing encouraging gibberish, when I stopped, again. This time, I put her legs up on my shoulders, and a pillow from the couch under her ass. That tilted her cunt at exactly the right angle for my piledriving cock as I slammed in and out, in and out. She screamed, and I felt her body tremble as a huge orgasm seized her. That was too much for me, and I released my sperm as deep inside her as I could get. God, she was a wonderful fuck!

Slowly, my breathing returned to normal, and as I began sensing things around me, I heard what sounded like applause. I turned my head, and saw Jeff sitting on the couch, Louise curled in his arms.

"I'll take my hat off to you, Jim," he said. "You sure know how it's done!" There was no hint in his voice of the feelings he had expressed earlier. As if he were reading my mind, he added, "Louise and I had a long talk," he paused, then added with a lewd grin, among other things. I can't promise I won't backslide, but right now, I love you both almost as much as I love Sandra.  

I heard Louise's approving chuckle, and saw her caress Jeff's knee. Sandra, pulled my face down to hers, and gave me a warm, wet kiss with a lot of tongue in it. "That's going to have to hold you for now," she said. "We really have to go home."

The Morrisons quickly dressed. Louise hugged Sandra tightly. "Next time, bring the baby so you can spend the night," she said. 

Then, while Louise and Jeff embraced and exchanged a warm kiss, Sandra whispered to me, "I had a wonderful time. Let's do this again, real soon."

My reply was a tight, warm hug. Then they were gone. Louise and I fell into each other's arms.


(To be continued)



Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 03



 Chapter 3 -- Bromfield's Temptations 

A Real Swap

I reached for the little woman. She came easily, even eagerly, into my arms and raised her pouty mouth for a warm, wet, open-mouthed kiss. I hugged her close, my partly erect cock pressing into her soft belly. She squirmed against it. Then she pulled her head back, and looking up at me she said softly, "Hi."

"Do you want to stay here, or should we go in the other room?" I asked.

With a final glance at the crouch where my wife was enthusiastically risking death by strangulation with that monstrous tool in her throat, Bette took my hand. "Lead the way," she said. "I want to get com fortable."

I led her to our bedroom. Thinking there was a chance one or both of us might be using it before the evening was over, Louise had thoughtfully turned the bed down. 

Recognizing the significance of that hospitable act, Bette smiled. "Your wife thinks ahead, doesn't she?"

"We try to be prepared." I gently drew her down so we were sitting on the bed. After turning her head, I brought my lips firmly in contact with hers while my left hand softly massaged her breast through her dress.

She grinned at me. "Don't you think we're a little overdressed for this?"

I tried to unbutton her dress with my left hand, but her buttons were those decorative kind that are a bitch to undo. She reluctantly broke our kiss and stood up. 

"I can do this better," she said. She swiftly went down the row of buttons. Before I had my shirt off, she was standing in front of me in her bra and half slip. 

I started to unbuckle my belt. "Wait," she said. "Let me do that." 

I stood patiently while she released my belt, unsnapped my waist band, and drew my zipper down. My pants fell around my ankles. She paid no attention, but instead, gave my shorts a gentle tug, releasing my erection. She stroked it tenderly. "You have a beautiful thing," she said softly. 

I sat down and reached around behind her to release her bra. Her firm, ripe young breasts sprang to full attention. "And you have the most beautiful breasts," I said reverently. This was indeed true. Her breasts were so firm and full that her nipples actually tilted up. 

She stood between my knees. I took a nipple gently between my teeth, and touched my tongue to its tip. "Brrr," she said. "That gives me goose bumps!"

She wasn't kidding. I saw them on her arms. I slowly pulled her half slip down. I expected to see panty hose, but instead, she was wearing sheer lacy panties over a garter belt and stockings. She smiled shyly at me when she saw my obvious pleasure at the sight. "Louise isn't the only one who thinks ahead," she said, to my considerable surprise. I started to unsnap her stockings, but she stopped me. "Let's leave them on. I like the feel of nylon when I have a man between my legs."

I touched a nipple with the tip of my tongue while I slid her panties down her slender legs, lightly brushing her soft skin with my fingernails as I did so.

Hoping to raise more goose bumps, I continued to tease the skin on her thighs with feather-like touches and trace light patterns on her skin, while my eyes feasted on the beautiful symmetry of her nearly perfect little body.

Bette wasn't interested in posing. She threw her arms wide and almost literally jumped at me. She pushed me off balance, and we rolled together on the bed. Suddenly, the games were over. I was on my back. She reared over me, and her hot little mouth closed over mine, while her right hand stroked my manhood. I felt those firm breasts boring into my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, and pulled her as tightly against me as I could. By this time, I was feeling like a teenager myself.

At that moment, as I cuddled her delightfully warm, smooth little body, I adored her. After a few min utes, I began to gently caress her soft skin. Her face was buried in my neck. "That tickles," she said.

"Good. How does this feel?" I ran my finger down the crack of her ass. 

Abruptly, she reared back. In the dim light, I saw her face above mine, framed by her heavy mane. "You're not an anal man, are you?" she demanded.

"Hell no," I said as convincingly as I could. "I'm a just a people person." Pulling her tiny frame down to me again, I rolled us over, so I was on top, but taking care to keep my weight on my elbows. I blew gently in her ear and nuzzled into her throat, licking that tender place just below her ear. All the while, I tickled the palm of my hand with the tips of her nipples. 

She sighed, "That feels good, Jim."

"Play with my nipples," I said. "They're sensitive, too."

"I didn't know that," she said. "Are all men like that?"

"Some men may think it's not manly, but I think most of us like to have our nipples sucked and played with," I said. "We just don't like to ask for it."

"What else can I do?" she asked.

"Just relax, sweetheart," I said. By this time, I was gently nudging my chin into that ticklish zone inside her hip bones, while I continued to caress her sides and thighs. I blew gently into her belly button.

Continuing my southern migration, I reached her thighs. She kept her legs tight together. I tried to nuzzle my face between them. 

"Don't," she said sharply. "That's dirty!"

Never stopping my soft caressing, I worked my way back north, and after making a brief detour as I kissed her breasts again, I returned to her ear, and began nibbling on her earlobe while I stroked her mons with my right hand. She relaxed a bit. After moistening my finger, I rested it on the tight little slit between her legs, moving it ever so gently and slightly. I kept nibbling and rubbing, and gradually her knees fell apart. I wet my finger again, and touched her clitoris. 

"That feels good, Jim. Can you get it in a little deeper?"

I wet that damned finger for the fourth or fifth time, and began working it in and out of her. I hoped that her natural lubrication would begin moistening her channel. I know she was enjoying my finger because her breathing had begun to quicken. Also, she began rubbing my cock with increasing intensity. 

My mouth watered as I thought of that delectable crease between her legs. "I don't care if it's dirty or not," I whispered in her ear, "it helps me if you'll just let me kiss it a little."

That was a different story. If I needed a little something extra to get me going, she was hesitant but willing to be a good sport about it. "OK," she said, "but don't say I didn't warn you!"

Not wanting to give her time to reconsider, I quickly slid down in the bed so my mouth was where my finger had been.

I lightly traced the fold between her nether lips with the tip of my tongue. She shuddered, but didn't say anything. Then I closed my lips around her labia, and gently pressed it against my upper teeth. 

She trembled again. I thought I felt the muscles in her thighs begin to relax. Taking a chance, I touched the tip of my tongue to her clitoris. She jumped. I waited to see if she was going to stop me. She settled back and her legs opened wider.

It had been a slow start, but I was soon making up for lost time as I alternately sucked her clit and plunged my tongue as deep as I could into her secret place. By this time, she had raised her legs to give me complete access to her sex, and I was making the most of it. Her womanhood was wonderfully sweet. 

I lost count of the times she came before she finally pushed my face away. "Stop, Jim. I can't take any more. I'm getting sore. I want you inside me now."

I quickly hunched myself up and she pulled her knees up to her chest. "Phil likes me this way," she said. "He says it gives him a target to shoot at."

Her swollen, reddened, wet sex made an inviting target, but I wasn't Phil. "Put your legs down and bend your knees." I slid into the warm cradle she offered and felt her little hand guiding my straining cock into her hot, pulsing belly.

I met almost no resistance as I thrust myself into her little body. "Oh, this is wonderful," she sighed. 

I pulled back, then slid deep into her a second time. She responded by going crazy. Using her bent legs for leverage, she tilted her pelvis back and lifted her body to meet me as I tried to get fancy and probe for her "G" spot. She reciprocated by wrapping her legs around my waist, lifting herself from the bed, and swinging her body back and forth, up and down, as if trying to milk the greatest possible sensation from my tortured cock. 

Neither of us made much noise. All I heard was the steady creaking of the bed and the dull slapping sound my scrotum made when it hit her bottom. I looked down and watched myself slide in and out of her sex.

She raised her head. "Put a pillow under my ass and my head," she said. "I want to watch, too."

She wrapped her arms around my neck, and raised her head and shoulders, while I jammed a pillow behind her head. Then, her legs still locked around my waist, she hunched her lower body up, and without missing a stroke, I stuffed a pillow under her bottom.

If this position was uncomfortable, she didn't complain. She watched my sword slide in and out with great interest. "I've never seen this before," she said.

Although her new U shape restricted her motions, I found it exciting to watch her watch herself. Suddenly she stiffened. I felt it coming as the great muscles in her thighs began to tremble. Her stomach muscles started to undulate. The veins in her throat stood out, and her face flushed. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she began to shudder great, violent tremors. Her head went back and a great gasp of air exploded from her lungs.

A pair of giant tongs gripped me across the small of my back and squeezed. My surging manhood seemingly grew another six inches as I rammed it, again and again, as deep inside her as was physically possible.

Wave after wave of seed spurted into her straining little body. I gasped for air and fell to one side of her. A great wave of love washed over me, and I tenderly kissed the corner of her mouth, while I hugged her close to me.

She opened her eyes and grinned. "Well, now you know it's true." Seeing my puzzled expression, she said, "You know what they say, `big girl, big cunt, little girl, all cunt.' Say hello to cunt."

I was bothered by her self-deprecating tone. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" I asked. 

She failed to respond. Instead, she said, "I think we've been away from the party long enough. Let's get our pants on and go see what Phil and Louise are up to."

I said, "OK, but first . . ." I drew her into another tight embrace. She threw her arms around me. Silently, we hugged one another as tightly as possible for at least a minute, then parted. She quickly stepped into her slip and her dress. "I can stuff the rest of this stuff in my purse." She paused, then looked impishly at me out of the corner of her eye. "It won't be the first time."

Bette was full of surprises. 

We stepped into the hall, and quietly walked to the living room. Other than Louise's blouse and a pile of clothing I assumed was Phil's, there were no signs of our respective spouses. I turned to Bette. "Do you suppose they've eloped?"

She surprised me. "God, I hope so," she said fervently. She wasn't kidding.

"I'll bet they're in the spare bedroom," I said. "Want to have a look?"

She shrugged. "Why not?"

The bedroom door was closed. Ignoring a pang of conscience, I cracked it open and peeked inside.

The lamp on the night table was on, enabling us to see Louise and Phil on the bed. Phil was lying on his back, his arm across his eyes. Louise was tirelessly playing with his limp member. Even soft, the differ ence between Phil's equipment and that of ordinary mortals was striking. Louise was trying to breathe life into the poor thing.

Quietly, I closed the door and went back to the living room. I pulled Bette down on the couch next to me, tilted her head up, and kissed her firmly on the mouth. "I feel kind of funny about checking up on them," I said.

Bette opened her eyes. "Why?"

I explained that Louise and I had developed a few common sense rules regarding our swinging activities. Those rules primarily involved respecting one another's space. I had breached one of those rules when I opened the door into the back bedroom. If Louise had wanted me to see her trying to breath life back into Phil, she wouldn't have closed the door. 

Betty said, "Wow, I never dreamed swinging could be so complicated. It gets confusing, doesn't it?"

At that moment, neither of us could have imagined how complicated our arrangements were soon to be come. Instead, I looked speculatively at Bette. "They're not in a hurry. Why should we be?"

"Because it's getting late and I'm tired," Bette said in an abrupt change of mood. "I really need to go to bed."

I started to leer, then realized she was serious. "Why don't you go in and lie down?" I said. "I'll call you when the party is over."

Bette stood. "Thanks," she said. She bent over and kissed the tip of my nose. "See you in a while."

While I sat there in the semi-darkness waiting for something to happen, I thought about the evening just past. It occurred to me that had I not succumbed so quickly to Bette's luscious little body, but had remained just a few minutes longer behind the camcorder while Louise was lighting Phil's fuse, I might have recorded for posterity an act similar to those reputedly performed by Mexican girls with donkeys many years ago in Tijuana.

Then I thought about the way our relationship with the Morrisons was developing; almost like a group marriage. It was wonderful having such a close relationship, but it still wasn't enough. That's why we had seduced Bette and Phil Cox. Cox. I smiled as I reflected on his name. It fit.

I failed at first to hear Louise and Phil come into the room. Phil sidled over to his clothes, while Louise summoned me into the kitchen. 

I felt a cold foreboding as I looked into her troubled eyes. She didn't pull any punches. "Jim, I know this doesn't make sense, but I need to go home with Phil."

I felt a sudden jolt as if I had been kicked in the stomach. "Why? . . . What? . . ."

"I can't explain it," she said unhappily, "and I don't think it's permanent. It's just that I have to do this, Jim. Please say you understand!"

"I sure as hell don't understand," I said coldly and unsympathetically. "You find some guy who is hung like an Army mule, and right away, you become a disciple. Where's the swinger I married?"

"Well, I don't understand it either. But he's willing to trade Bette for me for a few days . . ."

"Has anybody thought about what Bette wants?" I asked, as sarcastically as I could. 

"Why don't you ask her?" 

Louise and I swiveled around. Bette stood in the doorway, yawning. "What's going on?"

"Phil and Louise . . ." I started, but Louise cut me off. I had caught my breath by now, and something in the way she held her head told me to be very careful in the next few minutes. I shut up and let Louise explain.

"Bette, something very strange has happened to Phil and me. I don't understand it, so I can't explain it, but somehow, I feel a powerful compulsion to be with Phil. Phil seems to feel that way, too. Is it even remotely possible that you could be happy staying here with Jim for a few days until we can get this craziness out of our systems? What do you think?"

I was astonished. Louise was pleading with Bette! I had never before heard her use that tone of voice. 

Bette's lips thinned. She marched into the living room. Louise continued to beg for my understanding with her eyes, while we listened to Bette discuss the problem with her husband. "You dumb bastard," she began, "what is this about you and that woman wanting to run off?" She paused. Strain as we would, we couldn't hear his response. "Well, if that's the way you want it . . ." More mumbling. "No, I don't know where I'll stay. I haven't been invited."

I started to move into the other room, but Louise put her hand on my arm. "Let them work it out," she said. "You and I need to talk. I love you, Jim. I don't love Phil. I'll be honest about it. Right now I feel powerfully infatuated with his equipment, if that's possible. He seems to be equally excited because I can take it all. Can you believe this was the first time he has ever fully penetrated a woman? I know this can't last," she paused and a trace of her old impish grin briefly touched her lips, "but it will be a hell of a ride while it's going on."

She touched my hand and looked me full in the face. "If you can give me this, Jim, I'll make it up to you somehow. I swear to God I will."

"Go get packed," I said gruffly. She left the kitchen and I went into the living room. Bette and Phil turned to me. None of us could think of anything to say. Finally, I broke the ice. "Louise is packing." 

Phil muttered something about seeing if he could help, and left the room. Bette came to stand in front of me. "WOW!" she said.

"Double wow," I feebly responded.

"Well, now what?" she asked. 

"Looks like we've been traded," I said. 

"I mean, are we going to shack-up?" practical little Bette insisted.

"How would you feel about that?" I asked. 

"I don't know," she replied. "How about you?"

"Same with me. Do you squeeze your toothpaste tube? Crumple or fold your toilet paper? There are lots of things about you that I don't know!" 

Bette smiled wanly. "I'm glad you've got a sense of humor, Jim," she said. "I think we're going to need it."

Louise and Phil came out carrying two overnight bags and an armload of clothes on hangers. I shook my head. "This doesn't look like a weekend, Louise."

"Please be patient," she said. "We'll get through this somehow!"

She reached up and kissed me quickly, then followed Phil out the door, closing it behind her.

"I could use a drink," I said. 

"Me, too," Bette said. "Where do you keep the booze? I've got to start working for my keep."

"You start tomorrow," I said firmly. "Tonight, you're a guest." I got up and poured two stiff drinks.

I stayed home from the office the next morning, and tried to explain the nature of my relationship with Louise. It was more difficult than I had expected.

She understood swinging only in the context of old fashioned `wife swapping.' The concept of an open marriage such as we had was entirely alien to her. I tried to explain, "It's like this, our relationship is based on the idea that we are both fallible human beings. That means that neither of us judges nor condemns the other, no matter what happens." I paused, then went on. "I almost blew it last night when Louise said she wanted to leave with Phil."

I went on, "Ours is what some folks would call an `open' marriage. We are free to date others if we want to. As a courtesy, we usually tell each other when we've been over the fence; in fact I find it exciting when she tells me about picking someone up and what they did. Do you understand that?"

Bette's eyes were shining. "Why can't everyone live like that?" she said, half to herself. 

The phone rang. I picked it up, expecting to hear Louise tell me she wanted to come home. It was Sandy. "This is a surprise," she said. "What are you doing home?"

At least Bette was spared the embarrassment of having to explain that she had been traded. I told Sandy what had happened. Then I described Phil's equipment.

"I knew there was a reason I loved the guy," she said.

"Sandy, this isn't funny."

"I'm sorry," she said, "of course it isn't. It's scary. If it can happen to a person as level headed as Lou ise . . ." her voice trailed off. "So you and Bette are camping together. Well, well. I told you there was more to that gal, et cetera, et cetera. Should we come over this evening?"

"Let me talk to Bette. I'll get back to you, Sandy, and thanks for asking."




Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 03



I decided to explain the depth of our relationship with the Morrisons. I thought that Bette should under stand how things were between us. Then I told her that the Morrisons had offered to come over. She got a funny look on her face, and I thought I saw a fleeting blush in her cheek.

"I thought we'd have this evening just to ourselves," Bette said, "to get better acquainted."

She was right. But how was I going to explain this to Sandy without upsetting her? Life was getting very complicated. 

"How about this," I suggested, "suppose we go over there for supper, and come right back here afterwards? That way, Sandy can do her mother hen thing, Jeff is secure, and we can get on with our lives."

"I suppose that would be all right," Bette replied.

I called Sandy back and wrangled an early dinner invitation. 

That evening, after a delicious dinner, the four of us sat in the Morrison's sparsely furnished living room, Sandy and Bette both sitting in bean bag chairs while Jeff and I relaxed on their sofa.

"I've really got to hand it to you," Jeff was saying again, "but . . ." his voice faded away. 

I knew our swinging parties with the Morrisons were over. Sandra never looked more desirable, but Jeff had a definite `I told you so' look in his eye that warned me plainly what to expect if I proposed partying again any time soon.

It was time to let the dust settle. 

We said good night soon afterward, and later, in bed, we consummated our somewhat irregular arrange ment. She was still hesitant about letting me go down on her, but only at first.

A month went by. I forwarded Louise's mail to Phil's apartment, and she sent Bette's mail to us. Other wise we had no contact.

Another month went by. 



Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 04



Author's note: There is some confusion regarding the sequence of chapters in this book. Chapter 1 was titled "Making New Friends." Chapter 2 was "Ancient History." Chapter 3, in which Jim and Bette take up housekeeping, was titled Bromfield's Temptations. Henceforth, all the chapters will be identified only by chapter number.

Chapter 4 -- Bromfield's Temptations

The 10/40 Club

I missed Louise terribly, but life with Bette had its compensations. While she lacked the earthy good humor and sense of derring-do that had made Louise such a wonderful companion, she seemed more sensitive to my feelings and was much more willing to follow my lead. She was fun to be with and our sex life kept improving as she learned to trust me. She didn't seem bothered at all that Phil was gone, and by the end of the second month, I was beginning to wonder whether our living arrangement would become permanent.

Sandy and Jeff had quietly stepped aside after Louise left. I was still seeing Sandy, however, and it was on one of those dates that I discovered why Jeff had withdrawn. 

She and I had spent the entire afternoon enjoying slow motion sex, the kind where you consciously slow things down so you can taste every morsel, savor every sensation. Sandy was sitting up in bed smoking her after sex cigarette, her fine little breasts still moist and flushed with the heat of her passion. I was about to step into the shower, when she stopped me. 

"You know why Jeff wanted to stop swinging, don't you?" she asked, her classic features suddenly solemn.

"Not unless it was because of Louise," I said.

"It was because she left, not because of the way she left," Sandy said mysteriously.

She had my attention. "What do you mean?"

"Jeff is attracted to you," she said. "As long as Louise was in the picture, he felt he was safe from temptation."

I let that strange little idea roll around in my head before I asked, "Is that why you asked me if I had ever been with a man?"

"Yes"

"Is Jeff bisexual, or do you think he might be gay?"

"Is there a difference?"

"Jesus Christ!" I exclaimed. "Where the hell have you been?" I added, "Did you ever make it with Louise?"

"We fooled around a couple of times."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Sure. It felt good."

"Do you think you're a lesbian?"

"What kind of a question is that?"

"As far as Jeff's being attracted to me goes, didn't you feel attracted to Louise?"

"Oh, sure. She's a lovely, sexy woman."

"I rest my case," I said.

She was quiet for a few minutes staring at the wall. I could almost see the ideas chasing each other around in her beautiful head. Then she said quietly, "It scares the hell out of him thinking he might be gay, but if you can show him that he's merely experiencing a bisexual urge, I'd be very grateful." Then she turned to me and grinned. "Besides, it would be a serious turn-on for me to see you two guys going at it. Are you up for a threesome?"

I thought for a moment. I wasn't sure how Bette would take it if I went to a party alone. Well, I'd think of something. "Sure," I said, "when?"

Sandy's brow wrinkled as she mentally reviewed her calendar. "How about a week from Saturday?" 

I nodded. "I'll work something out." 

Actually, Bette surprised me when I mentioned the possibility of a golf game with Jeff. She nodded enthusiastically, saying, "I didn't know you played golf, Jim, but I'm glad to see you getting some exercise!" 

Bette must have read something else in my expression because she said, "From the look on your face, I thought you were going to suggest a swinging party." 

I nodded slowly, as if considering the idea for the first time. Actually, as accustomed as I was to infinite sexual variety, the (nearly) monogamous life I had with Bette was beginning to pale. Aloud, I said, "Would you like to go to a swing club?" 

She hesitated. "If you want to . . ." she began.

"No, no, baby," I said firmly, "if you go to a swing club, you go out of curiosity, or to get laid, or for the hell of it. You do not go because someone wants you to."

Bette's face turned solemn. She said slowly, "I may not have been around like you and Louise, but I am curious. I'd like to see what a swing club is like. Who knows? I'd probably like it."

The next day, Wednesday, I called the Ten/Thirty club across the river in Portland, and made dinner reservations. I told Bette what I had done that evening. Her initial response was, "What shall I wear?"

I explained that having dinner at the club was a highly stimulating sexual appetizer because the women in the dining room usually allowed their exhibitory instincts free rein. Almost invariably, they wore the most revealing and suggestive clothes they and their partners could devise. 

Bette did not lack suggestive and revealing clothing. The day after Louise left, we had come back to the apartment to find a suitcase in the foyer packed with her things. Louise obviously had selected garments she knew would appeal to me. 

Friday afternoon, I left the office early. When I let myself into the apartment, I saw immediately that Bette was taking this night out very seriously. The bathroom was still steamy when I stripped down and stepped under the shower. When I came out, Bette was standing in profile, leaning forward in front of the mirror over the dressing table, applying her make-up. 

I paused, absorbing the sensual profile Bette unconscious ly presented. She wore only her garters and patterned dark hose, which accentuated the beautiful sweep down her back, around her tight little bottom, and down the backs of her slender thighs. I ad mired the shape of her bottom almost as much as I did the incredibly sweet curve of her young, upswept breasts. 

I could almost see the moist mat of black hair covering the mysterious delta between her thighs. Despite myself, I felt my manhood twitch. What the hell am I doing taking her to a swing club, I asked myself. She saw my reflection in the mirror, and swung around.

She had shaved herself. "Do you like it?" she asked shyly.

I gawked like a school boy. I've seen more than my share of female genitalia, but her tiny slit looked almost obscene, framed as it was by her garter belt and stockings. I felt a sudden wave of desire, and I stepped toward her, but she laughed and held up her hands.

"I know what you're thinking, tiger. Save it for tonight. I think you're going to need everything you've got."

She was right. Reluctantly, I pulled on my shorts and went back into the bathroom to shave, but instead of facing the mirror, I turned so I could watch her dress.

First, she powdered and daubed a musky scent between her breasts, on her softly rounded belly, behind her ears, inside her elbows, and inside her thighs. Then she carefully pulled on a loose, gauzy black blouse that ordinarily would have been worn over a conservative black brassiere. Her pink nipples looked like stop signs under that thin, almost transparent material. 

The last garment she selected was a leather miniskirt. The skirt was about 14 inches long and reached to mid thigh. Watching herself in the mirror, she leaned forward, backward, turned, raised her leg. Only when she bent deeply forward did the skirt pull above her stocking tops.

Then she sat in the boudoir chair and crossed her legs. A narrow strip of white skin peeked from beneath her skirt. She was a voyeur's dream. Satisfied, she stretched and turned to me, just before applying the last coat of lipstick, "What's taking you so long?"

Nothing, except the performance she had just put on. "I'll be right there, dear," I said, deliberately mimicking a henpecked husband. Minutes later we were in the car driving through the early evening traffic to the club. 

The Ten/Thirty was housed in an old mansion at 1030 North Davis St. in a quiet neighborhood on the north side of Portland. You had to know about the place. Even after you rang the bell, and the doorman answered, there was no way you could have known this was a sex club. Everything a visitor could see from the foyer was as you would expect an old but well preserved home to be.

A certain gentile decorum was observed in the dining room. Under the soft hum of conversation and the occasional clink of tableware, gentlemen and their ladies sat, ostensibly enjoying a quiet repast. In reality, of course, each couple was surreptitiously eyeing the others, speculating about their sexual prowess. The women responded by attracting as many admirers during these preliminaries as possible. For instance, if you looked more closely at that blonde in the corner, you might notice that her off the shoulder blouse was unusually far off the shoulder, and in fact cradled a bare breast. At the next table, a very young woman with dark hair sat demurely eating her salad. She wore a man's shirt many sizes too large that was open to the waist. It sagged open, exposing her nipples every time she moved her arms. I couldn't see her partner clearly, but he also seemed young and was wearing what appeared to be an exquisitely cut sports jacket, which seemed incongruous compared to the casual, inexpensive way the girl was dressed. 

I wasn't nearly as surprised seeing them as I was in the way Bette reacted. As she entered the room and saw the other women, she began to strut. She pushed her chest out, and began swaying her hips, almost as if she were walking to a silent stripper's beat. She immediately caught every male eye. We were shown to our table by a perky young waitress in a tight tee shirt and very short skirt.

When I was returning from the men's room, from clear across the room, I saw the way she squirmed in her seat, crossing and recrossing her lovely legs. She was giving a show as good as any of the others. I noticed especially a tantalizing little strip of white skin at the top of her stockings that was teasingly empha sized because of the color of her stockings and the dark leather of her skirt.

Everyone was now frankly ogling everyone else. There was no longer any pretense. The demure young lass was flapping her shirt open and shut as if she were trying to cool her body. The girl with the off the shoulder look was now displaying both breasts. And Bette was signaling every man in the room that a hot, moist, eager female was there waiting to be taken.

I signed the check, earning a grateful smile from the waitress with my tip, and we went into the locker room. We had received our locker keys when we signed the guest book before dinner. 

Each locker contained two large bath towels. I smiled encouraging at Bette. "The management won't hold you responsible for that towel," I said. "There are stacks of them piled in each room."

Two other couples were in the changing as we began taking our clothes off. I watched one couple in particular. He looked like a bookkeeper. He was about my age and build, a little heavier maybe, thinning dark hair, and he wore heavy horn rim glasses. A fellow who needed glasses that thick at a swing party was at a serious disadvantage. Methodically, he folded his clothes and stowed them in his locker. Naked, he wrapped the towel around his waist and waited for his wife to finish.

She was shy. Although she managed to disrobe under neath her concealing towel, I realized that she was a heavier, fleshier version of Louise. Her eyebrows nearly met over her strong nose. She had a dramatic streak of gray hair falling on the left side of her face. She looked as if she might be Greek. Even concealed by the towel, I saw an outline of pendulous breasts, a big bottom, and caught a glimpse of a heavy dimpled thigh. She wasn't built for speed, but when it came to heavy duty sex, I thought she might be right there with the best of them. She snuggled her towel around her breasts and very reluctantly, I thought, followed her man out into the main hall.

Instead of wrapping her towel around her breasts as the other women had, Bette wrapped her towel around her waist before we drifted into the social room where we were supposed to meet new friends. I was relieved that Bette seemed to be quite comfortable standing bare breasted in that room. She was quickly engaged in conversation with a young man about her age. They soon drifted off to the bar, and were lost to view. 

I saw the young girl who had worn the man's shirt in the dining room. She was now topless, standing in the corner talking intently with a man old enough to be her grandfather. I didn't see anyone else I recognized, except the Greek looking woman I had seen earlier. She was standing quietly by herself against the wall. She was one of the more interesting looking women there, and I decided to introduce myself.

"Hi," I said, "how do you like the party so far?"

She looked thoughtfully at me for a moment, then decided to reply. "How do I like the party?" she said thoughtfully, "I don't know. I just got here."

I thought that was an encouraging response. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Sure. Anything with alcohol."

Oh, oh. One of those. I guess I better just keep on going, I said to myself. The room was getting crowded. I squeezed between two groups of people, and wandered into the next room. This was one of the three mattress rooms. A couple were already bouncing on a far mattress. I joined the ring of voyeurs, two of whom were naked men slowly stroking themselves.

As I stared at the happy bouncing couple on the mattress, I realized that the one on the bottom was Bette! It hadn't taken her long to get her feet wet.

Strangely feeling somewhat sorry for myself, I went back into the social room and fixed myself a drink. I turned around, and the Greek lady said sharply, "It took you long enough, thank you very much," as she snatched the glass from my hand. 

She tossed it back in a gulp and handed me the glass. "Put some booze in it next time," she said.

I went back to the bar. I made a drink for myself and filled her glass half full of bourbon, topping it off with a splash of water. I returned and handed it to her.

She tossed it down. "Thanks," she said, "that's better."

Something in her voice and her obvious modesty made me realized she was probably a newcomer. I could imagine that as so often happened, her husband had argued, pleaded and cajoled until, in desperation, she had said, "All right! If it's that important to you, let's go!"

"Is this your first time?" I asked.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Well, yes and no," I replied. "Mostly a lucky guess. And the way you hang onto that towel, of course."

She smiled faintly and extending her hand, said, "My name is Grace." 

I took it, noticing that her palm was wet. "It's nice to meet you, Grace. My name is Jim," I said. "Do you know how this place works?"

"Sure," she said bitterly, "just like any other meat shop. You find the piece you want and go after it."

"Well, not exactly," I said. "What you do is look for someone you think you might want to know better. Not necessari ly to have sex with, just to know better. There are lots of bright people here. Then you strike up a conversation. Maybe one of you will suggest a dip in the Jacuzzi. Or maybe a trip to the sauna . ." "Let's go to the Jacuzzi," she said.

"OK." I led the way through the crowd, through the mattress room, where I noticed that Bette had attracted a crowd; she now had three men keeping her occupied, one between her legs, one in her mouth -- I was a little shocked to see that since she had adamantly refused to do that for me -- and one she was holding in her little hand. 

Grace noticed my interest. "Is there something else you'd rather be doing?" she asked pointedly.

"No, I was just checking on my wife to make sure she was having a good time," I said.

"One of those men is my husband," she said. "I hope he doesn't lose his glasses." I smiled at her wifely concern.

The Jacuzzi was in the next room. It was sunken in the middle of a small room, probably once a dressing room. Another couple was already in residence, but they were facing each other, and ignored us. 

I tossed my towel aside, sat on the edge of the pool, and dangled my feet in the water. It was hot. Grace modestly kept her towel wrapped around her torso, and sat next to me. "The water is hot, isn't it?"

I nodded and slid into the water. Grace said, "Give me your hand, and don't look." 

I looked away and held up my hand. She used it to steady herself as she dropped her towel and slid into the water. The bath was crowded, but the lovebirds paid no attention, and continued to pet and caress each other. 

I looked at Grace. Her breasts were floating up on the water, which gave her a surrealistic, but at the same time, a very human appearance. "I feel embarrassed," she said. 

"You mean because of them?" I asked nodding toward the lovers.

"Partly," she agreed, "but mostly because except for my husband and doctor, you're the first man in 20 years who has seen me naked. I wouldn't mind if I had a figure like your wife's, but I know I'm not much to look at."

While I was trying to think of a suitable response, her thigh accidentally brushed against mine. Whether it was the hot water, or the couple sharing the Jacuzzi with us, or the pervasive sexual ambience of the club, or the warm human female next to me, I don't know, but suddenly I had an raging erection. 

Grace hadn't seen it. "Grace," I said, "I'm going to show you the effect you have on me. Give me your hand."

She had no idea what I had in mind. She offered her hand as if we were going to shake hands. I took her wrist and brought her hand down to my rampant manhood. 

Her eyes flared in shock and surprise. For a moment, I thought I had made a mistake, but her eyes quickly softened and she smiled as she closed her fist around my throbbing member.

"This is the nicest, most sincere compliment anyone has ever paid me," she said. "Let's go find some place where we can use it before I lose my nerve."

We hurriedly scrambled out of the pool and toweled each other off. "Don't fall and break that thing," she said, as she led the way into the mattress room. I glanced over my shoulder at the love birds. Now I saw why they hadn't scrambled for the mattress room. They had been screwing all the time we were in the pool with them.

Grace plunked herself down on the nearest mattress. "Hurry up," she said, "before I change my mind." She spread her legs invitingly. 

I had to stick my cock somewhere before it burst. There was no foreplay at all. I dropped between her legs, and she expertly guided me straight into her warm, wet, clutching tunnel. She gripped me between her knees and bucked her torso up to meet my thrusts so aggressively that I was afraid something inside me might break. She was also noisy. She started screaming after third or fourth thrust, and we began attracting a crowd. She was bouncing me so violently that I was forced to concentrate on staying in the saddle, although now that I think back on it, I don't think there's any way in God's world I could have gotten loose before she was finished with me.

Her screams got louder and her motions wilder until her eyes rolled back and a deep flush flooded across her chest and that part of her breasts that had not fallen into her arm pits.

Inspired by her heroic climax, I began to spurt my seed deep into her belly. I relaxed for a moment, and wondered if this was the part where the female eats the male, when simul taneously, I felt someone tap me on the shoulder, and Grace push at me from underneath. It seems I was impeding traffic. I rolled off Earth Mother, and she welcomed another foolish male into her nest.

I rested for a moment, then wandered out into the social hall for refreshment. Bette was standing on the edge of the crowd, most of whom had shed or lost their towels by this time. She was talking to a nice looking young man who was as naked as she. I fixed a drink and was debating whether to join them, when she waved me over.




Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 04



"Jim, darling, this is Steve Rollins. His other half, Carol, is in there somewhere." She waved toward the mattress room while Steve and I shook hands.

"We saw part of your ride in there," he gestured with his other hand, "and I must say you show good form, if not good sense." His grin took any sting out of his remark.

"She's lively," I said dryly. Her siren-like orgasmic scream again filled the room.

"Jim, Steve and Carol are having a party next week. They wanted to know if we could come."

"Sure, I guess so, if it's all right with you," I said. I grinned at Steve. "I think something may have been jarred loose. I can't seem to focus quite yet."

He laughed. "When we get ready to leave, we'll dig out our address and directions. We live in the country. Plan to stay the night. Stay two nights, if you like. Some people probably will."

That sounded promising. Bette and Steve, arms around each other, drifted off toward the mattress room. 

I was so drained that I merely sat, nursing my drink, thinking about life, when a woman's voice said, "The light's on. Is anybody home?"

I looked up. It was the young woman I had seen in the dining room wearing the man's shirt.

"Oh, hi," I said, not very originally. 

"I saw your performance in there." She shook her head. "Pitiful." 

I realized she was ragging me, but I rose to the bait like a trout to a fly. "Don't you have to be of age to get in here?" I asked. 

She grinned. "Nice shot, grandpa. Actually, I'm a 12 year-old hooker and I'm fucking my way through school. Do you want to fuck?"

I looked more closely and realized she was probably older than Bette, but was one of those people blessed with seemingly perennial youth. Then I glanced at her thinly veiled womanhood, her beautiful breasts, and her lovely features. "I'd love to," I said sadly, "but I don't think there's much left . . ."

"That's my department. Can you still walk?"

We hobbled into the mattress room. Gloria was still taking them on. Bette was in the corner with two men this time. My new friend, whose name I had yet to learn, said, "It's a bit crowded in here, gramps. Let's go in the back bedroom."

There was only one couple in there. The light from the hall was enough so we could see another mattress on the floor. 

"Let's see what I can do to revive this poor wounded soldier boy."

I laid on my back and closed my eyes. I sensed rather than felt her settle on the mattress next to me. Then I felt a very light tickling on my chest, moving down to my stomach. My God damned cock was trying to stand up and see what was happening. I opened my eyes. She was kneeling next to me bending over so her hair was touching my torso. After sweeping her hair up and down my body a few times -- a highly erotic experience I might add -- she paused with her head over my aching member, and said, "Perhaps I should try CPR."

With that, she gently blew on it. My poor little thing was still trying to get up on its knees. Then she touched it with the tip of her tongue, and it gave a healthy lurch.

"My, my," she said softly, "What's this?" Then she gently closed her lips around the head of it. She alternatively sucked and blew, slowly at first, then with increasing effort, while my little soldier began to rise from the dead. Now I know why they call it a 'blow job'.

Never missing a stroke, she swung a leg over my head, and crouched over my face, offering her delicious little slit to my mouth. I softly ran the tip of my tongue from her back door to her clit. Making the tip of my tongue as stiff and narrow as possible, I forced it into her womanhood and gently touched her clit.

The muscles in her thighs twitched against my ears. I was in the right spot. Two could play at that suck and blow business. I withdrew my tongue, and, shaping it into a hard point, I drove it into her rectum.

She responded by squatting back on my mouth. She also renewed her effort to restore life to my manhood. I sensed that the tide had turned. She was no longer doing me a favor; she was trying to arrange one for herself. 

I rimmed her sweet little rectum until secretions began dripping on my chin. I was fully restored, with an urgent need to find a soft, moist, yielding hole. She scrambled off me, and crouched, head down, bottom up. "Stick me in the ass!" she said. "Hurry!"

I needed little encouragement. I quickly mounted her. Her hand reached back between her legs, and she grabbed my prick. "Let's get it wet, first," she said, as she pulled it into her hot, clasping tunnel. I pushed hard into her, almost knocking her flat. "Hey, take it easy, gramps. I'm 12 years old. Remember?"

"Sorry about that," I grunted, as I pulled my wet cock from a little box that was so tight that it gave a sucking sound as I withdrew.

I raised my sights a couple of inches, and pressed forward. She tried to help by reaching back and spreading her buttocks with both hands. 

Pop! The head of my glans went past her sphincter muscle and was in her hot, incredibly tight bowel. I began rocking back and forth, gently driving myself deeper in every thrust. After a half dozen such thrusts, she began pushing back against me as I drove ever deeper into her.

"God, that feels so damned good," she moaned. "I love it in the ass. Push harder, make me feel it, hurt me a little!"

I was thrusting hard, now, doing my best. As I gripped her hips and watched her rectum swallow me, now seemingly without effort, she was bucking and pushing hard against me, and the slap-slap-slap of my thighs smashing against her buttocks, our labored breathing, the creak of the mattress, and her low, "Love it, love it, loveit-loveitloveit" were the only sounds we made.

Yet we began to attract a crowd. The girl -- even though I knew better, I still thought of her as a girl -- suddenly shrieked, "Oh God, I'm coming, I'm coming!" Tonight was my night for noisy climaxes.

Personally, I felt as if I could go on forever, except my back was getting tired. I tried to lighten the load on my back by alternating. I kept my torso still, and using my hands and arms, pulled her back and forth on my skewer. 

I still couldn't come. Grace had drained me dry. I drove my member into her deep and shallow; almost pulling out, then driving as deep as it would go. I even knocked her flat once. It was then, as I sprawled forward on her back while I was still buried in her, that she came again. This time, I had ample warning. She began to shake. I swear I could hear her teeth chatter. Then she screamed, "I'm dying! GOD, IT'S WONDER FUL!!"

She shuddered and shook seemingly for five minutes before she began to quieten. Suddenly she lunged ahead, leaving me behind. I was out of her. "That's it." she announced. "I'm getting sore." 

She craned her neck around to look at me. "Tell you what, gramps," she said, "you go wash that thing and I'll suck you off."

Well, you couldn't ask for a nicer offer than that. And it was so graciously put. I went straight into the men's room off the dressing room and gave my still erected member a nice bath. Then I went back to the mattress room. Unfortunately, my partner had disappeared. She undoubtedly had a better offer.

If there's one thing you can be fairly certain of in a swing club, it's that you can expect the unexpected. It was too bad, because I was getting fond of my little girl-woman friend whose name I still didn't know.

I wandered back into the mattress room where Grace and Bette had been holding court. Grace was still there, but she was alone. 

I sat next to her. "Get you a drink?" I asked.

She was resting with her eyes closed. Recognizing my voice, she said, without opening them, "Hi, Jim. I'd open my eyes if I could, but yes, a stiff bourbon/water would be nice." Her voice trailed off. I patted her thigh, and went for refreshments for both of us.

After I returned, I pressed a drink into her hand and plunked my butt down on the mattress next to her. "How's it going, kid?" I asked.

"I'm trying to sort it out, Jim," she said. She opened her eyes briefly and raised herself on her elbow to take a sip of her drink. I noticed how her heavy breasts continually appeared and disappeared as she moved. 

Although I certainly knew better, I asked. "Didn't you have a good time?"

She opened her eyes and grinned at me. "I don't know why you, of all people, Jim, have to ask a dumb question like that. Of course I did. The trouble is, I scared my poor husband half to death. Now Howard wants to quit swinging." She looked at me questioningly. "Now what?"

I shook my head. "Grace, I'm sure that half the women here have the same problem. It's very common. Hubby wants some strange stuff without going to the trouble and expense of banging his secretary, and he talks his wife into coming here. 

"The problem is that all he gets is a piece of ass, but his wife gets laid. I'm sure you know as well as I do that there's a hell of a difference. It suddenly dawns on him that his wife is having more fun than he is. He changes his mind. Suddenly the secretary seems like not such a bad idea after all."

I knew what I was talking about. I remembered my own fleeting envy/self-pity feelings when I had seen how quickly Bette had found a partner, and I was the one experienced at this game. 

"But, as you know," I went on, "the cat's out of the bag. The 'little woman' has discovered the joys of recreational sex and has actually earned the approval of the group for doing it. As long as you're careful, for most women, swinging is a win-win propo sition. You can't miss, as long as you can keep your husband happy." I paused to let this sink in. "How you do that is up to you. But if you want to keep swinging -- and if I ever saw a woman made for it, it's you -- you're going to have to pay the price. Whatever that price is."

"What kind of price?"

"Suggest a swing party at home, feed him vitamins, give him a whore for his birthday (Louise did that for me once), I don't know. Whatever works." 

Grace's towel was long forgotten. She was half sitting, supporting her upper torso on her left elbow, and I couldn't help but notice how her soft breasts sagged on the downhill side. Gravity is hell for the older woman. 

However, she had been listening carefully. "Howard would like a swing party," she said thoughtfully. "But where do I find the people?"

I suggested she might exchange phone numbers with other couples at the club. I also told her about the national and regional contact magazines that specialize in personal ads. 

She nodded. "You've been a dear, Jim. I'd give you a little piece for the road, but I'm so sore, I don't even know if I can walk. Next time, OK?" 

I kissed her lightly on the lips and feeling unusually noble, went looking for Bette. I found her sitting in a corner of the social room, chatting with Steve Rollins and the mysterious girl-woman who had revived me after I had been with Grace. She looked even younger now than she had an hour earlier. Some people thrive on sin. 

"Hi, there, young lady," I said. "What happened to you? Get cold feet or a better offer?"

"Oh, hi, gramps." She turned to Bette and Steve. "Isn't it wonderful how they let senior citizens in here?" Then, turning to me, she asked, "Do you get a senior's discount?"

I was trying to think of a suitable retort when Bette said, "Carol, I don't think you've met my husband . . ."

I was almost as surprised learning I was married to Bette as I was that this teenage gamine was Mrs. Rollins. To hide my confusion, I said, "Not formally, perhaps. The last time we met, she was masquerading as a 12 year old whore. Do you remember, Carol?"

I thought a faint blush colored her cheek, just for a moment. She looked me in the eye. "It's really nice to know you, Jim. Truce?" She held out her hand.

I took her hand in both of mine. "That's a deal," I said warmly.



Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 05



Synopsis: Jim and Bette met Carol and Steve at a sex club. The latter couple invited Jim and Bette to a weekend party. 

Chapter 5 -- Bromfield's Temptations

Satin Studios

Shortly after I had been formally introduced to Carol Rollins, Bette and I decided to call it a night. Steve walked with us to the locker room. He opened his locker and brought out a folded Xeroxed map. "This should get you to our place," he said. He then gave us detailed instructions, concluding with, "Here's our phone number if you need to reach us. We're not planning a sit down dinner, but there will be plenty of food. Don't eat before you come."

Bette asked about the time. Steve was vague. "It doesn't matter," he said. "Some people will come early so they can play a little tennis, or maybe go for a dip. I expect most people will be there by seven o'clock."

That seemed clear enough. Bette fave Steve a final hug. We shook hands again, and then we dressed.

Bette was quiet. "Have a good time?" I asked.

"Wow, did I ever! I did things tonight I had only read about. How about you?"

"I don't know," I said slowly. "Maybe Carol's right. Maybe I am getting a little long in the tooth for this sort of thing."

"I don't believe that for a minute," Bette said loyally. "I think you're just tired. Besides, you had a funny run of luck. None of your partners -- except for Carol, of course -- were beauty queens."

"What do you know about my partners? I thought that football team was keeping you busy."

"Well, they did," she admitted, "but when I had to go whiz, I couldn't help but notice what you were doing ... and with whom."

We slept in the next morning. The phone rang at noon while I was having my second cup of coffee. Bette answered, and handed the phone to me.

"Hello?"

It was Jeff. "Hi, Jim. You up for a little golf this afternoon?"

"Sure," I said. "Where'll I meet you?"

"Why don't you come up here. We can go out to the club together."

"Hold on." I turned to Bette. "It's Jeff. He wants to play a little golf. I should be back by five. OK?"

She nodded. I turned back to the phone. I'll be banging on your door in about 5 minutes. See you then."

I collected my clubs and shoes. Bette followed me to the door. I gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "I'll see you when I get back."

Five minutes later, I was tapping softly on the Morrison's door. Sandy had been waiting for me. She put her finger to her lips. "Jeff really thinks he's going to play golf," she whispered. "Let's see if we can change his mind."

I nodded and followed her into the kitchen. Jeff was sitting at the table reading the morning paper.

"How about a cup of coffee?" Sandy asked brightly. I nodded and sat on the chair facing Jeff over the table. While Jeff poured my coffee, Jeff looked at me, concern in his eyes. "Have you heard anything from Louise?"

"Not a word," I said, "but this can't go on forever; at least I don't think so."

Jeff smiled sympathetically. "I don't mind telling you, her running away like that really shook me up. But you knew how I really felt about swinging all along."

Sandy, standing behind Jeff, made a face at his back. I shook my head and looking him straight in the eye, said, "You and I are good friends, Jeff, and I'll be honest with you. Frankly, I thought your remorseful act was bullshit from the very beginning. I'll say this for you, though; you sure got a lot of extra TLC out of it! I almost wish I had thought of it." Behind Jeff, Sandy was silently clapping her hands.

Jeff protested, "Oh, no, Jim. You don't understand. I really felt that way. I still do."

"Well, partner," I said firmly, "you may think that's the way you feel, but I just don't buy it. Maybe fucking Louise bothered you for some reason -- God knows she could be demanding --but I think you're more like me than you realize, and I think variety is the spice of life!"

Behind Jeff's back, Sandy was silently waving her clasped hands together over her head like a triumphant prize fighter. I decided to push Jeff a little harder. I leaned across the table so we were nose to nose. I stared into his eyes as I asked, "In all seriousness, Jeff, are you still hung up on possessiveness or jealousy? Do you still think of Sandy as an attractive and useful appliance; something you own and use when you feel like it?"

Jeff slowly shook his head. "I . . .I don't think so," he said slowly. I took that as an honest answer. 

"Well, I knew I'd gotten rid of my possessive feelings when I began to enjoy watching Louise fuck other men. I'll bet you were beginning to have those feelings, too, and they scared you because our culture teaches us that only sissies and wimps loose control over their women." I pushed my nose even closer. "Whether you're willing to admit it or not, I'll bet secretly you got a little tingle when you saw me run my hand under Sandy's blouse or tickle her between her legs."

"No, nothing."

"Are you sure?" I insisted. "Not even a little bit?"

Jeff stubbornly shook his head. I could tell by the frown on his face that I was running out of time. "Would you like to try a little experiment?" I asked softly.

He was cornered. He grinned a cocky 25-year-old grin, confident that his youth could best a man almost old enough to be his father. "Sure," he said.

I looked over Jeff's head to Sandy. "Come here, dear, and sit on my lap."

While she obediently walked around the table, I pushed my chair back so she could sit across my legs, facing Jeff. She leaned against my left arm. Her right arm was around my neck, and she pressed her cheek to mine. I tugged her sweater free from her skirt and slid my right hand under it, cupping her warm, pliant breast. Then I looked at Jeff. "Feel anything?"

He shook his head.

Sandy raised the ante by turning her head and bringing her soft mouth tight against mine. Her lips worked as she sucked and nibbled. Then her tongue forced its way between my teeth, and began to explore my mouth. I rolled my eyes toward Jeff and raised my eyebrows.

He shook his head.

Sandy then turned to stare at her husband while placing her hand on top of mine, making circular motions, forcing my hand tightly against her breast. Then she pulled her skirt up into her lap, exposing her damp panties, and raised her sweater, baring her breast and my caressing hand. She removed my hand from her breast and placed in firmly over her damp crotch. Then she pulled my head down and pushed a bare nipple against my mouth.

"Hey, you guys, cut it out," Jeff said. "I thought we were going to play golf . . "

I glanced at him. He was staring rigidly ahead. I saw the skin on the knuckles of his right hand whiten as he gripped his coffee cup.

"Jeff, after all we've been through together, humor me. I think Sandy wants us both." "Oh, shit!" Jeff said. "Alright, let's go in the bedroom."

Sandy was already unsnapping her skirt as we filed silently into the bedroom. She shimmied out of her panties and lifted her sweater over her head in that curious but graceful cross armed motion all women seem to know. She jumped on the bed. I was right behind her, and shed my clothes almost as quickly. Jeff watched me lean over his prone wife and suck almost her entire left breast into my mouth before he lowered his pants and stepped out of his boxers.

His somewhat stubby circumcised member was already stiffening. He pulled his shirt off over his head and stretched out on the bed on Sandy's other side. He began to fondle her other breast.

Suddenly, I had a powerful urge to tough Jeff's manhood. I reached across Sandy's body and allowed my hand to "accidentally" brush it. I sensed his body stiffen and I felt his cock twitch.

Acting as if nothing had happened, I began stroking Sandy's side, the back of my fingers coming into almost constant contact with Jeff's arm. Then I shifted, and put her hand on my cock while I moistened a finger and reached for her tight little slit.

Jeff tentatively put his hand on my side. I responded by snuggling closer to Sandy. She was watching Jeff closely as he tried to make up his mind.

I wasn't making things easier for him. I reached across Sandy and began to stroke Jeff's ass. That did it. Sandy quietly excused herself and got up, leaving the two of us stretched out on the bed stroking each other's buttocks. I waited for Jeff to ask for it. It didn't take long.

"Let me touch you," he whispered. I rolled over, giving his access to what was now a raging erection. "I've never played with a foreskin before," he said. "God, it's smooth."

"Just slide it back," I said. "Then it'll look just like yours." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sandy sitting in an overstuffed chair, ler legs spread wide. One hand played with her nipples while her other hand rubbed her slit. 

Jeff slipped my foreskin back, then pulled it foreward over the tip of my cock. "Jesus Christ," he said, "and to think they cut mine off!" He paused. "Don't hit me, Jim, but I'd like to kiss it."

"Be my guest," I said magnanimously.

He was crouched by my side as his mouth closed over my manhood. I felt between his hairy legs and got a good handful of cock and balls. I glanced in Sandra's direction. Her fingers were a blur of motion in and around her delta. Jeff was sucking contentedly on my cock as I quickly jacked his staff. I hoped to finish him before before he sucked me dry. I wanted to save that for his lovely young wife.

He broke contact for a moment. "Jim," he pleaded, "put your mouth on it, please."

Anything to get at that young woman. I took his smooth member in over my tongue, and began sucking it while I rapidly stroked his shaft. The scent of a male in rut was almost overpowering. He began to jerk and spasm; I pointed his rigid cock toward the bed to avoid getting that sticky stuff all over me. I motioned frantically to Sandra to come join us, while I pulled away from her twitching hsband.

She jumped on the bed, and just as quickly, I mounted her doggy style, jamming myself as deeply into her belly as I could. That shift in partners gave me a second wind. I had feared I was going to explode in Jeff's mouth, but the acrobatics involved evidently caused my clock to be rewound, and I triumphantly screwed Sandy through two screaming orgasms before I felt something warm and wet against my rectum.

It was Jeff's tongue. It felt awfully good, so I squatted slightly to give him better access. He changed positions behind me, and suddenly I felt as if I were being split open! Jeff was trying to enter me! I felt his hands gripping my waist as I instinctively jerked forward in an effort to get away from him. That motion relaxed my sphincter enough so the head of his rigid cock popped inside my ass.

The pain rapidly subsided, and was replaced by a different, almost indescribably compelling sensation that caused my cock to swell to enormous proportions. I assume it had to do with the unaccustomed pressure on my prostate. Sandy squealed in delight and amazement as my hugely inflated tool drilled into her. She immediately began to buck and shiver as a third orgasm seized her.

Jeff, in the meanwhile, was hammering himself into me, and much to my chagrin and dismay, I found I was tilting my ass up and thrusting back against his cock, encouraging him to to dig ever deeper into my bowels. God help me, I was enjoying it! I felt him stiffen, and suddenly my bowels were flooded with his juices. 

In that same microsecond, my switch was tripped, and I poured qualtities of my semen into his wife. We collapsed together on the bed, me buried in Sandra and Jeff deep in me.

We remained there, dripping sweat on each other, an untidy heap of spent humanity, until our breathing began to return to normal. Jeff's deflated cock slipped out of me, and Sandy coughed, forcing my limp cock back into the open air. Then we disentangled ourselves. Jeff took my face between his hands and impulsively kissed me full on the mouth!

I was embarrassed about that, as I'm sure Jeff was. I showered first in case there was something they wanted to discuss privately. Then they showered together. Curiously, I felt a pang of jealousy as I watched them leave the room hand in hand. I was dressed when they came out of the shower.

As he pulled on his robe, Jeff said, "Jim, I think we could all do with a drink." I nodded and followed him back into the kitchen. Jeff poured each of us a highball and a glass of wine for Sandy, who had stopped to pull on a sweat suit before joining us. Jeff took a long pull on his drink. Then he looked me in the eye. "Jim, I want you to know I feel damn funny about what just happened."

I was about to make a smartass quip about his habit of instant remorse, but just in time, I realized how deeply shaken he really was. Instead, I said, "I can guess what's on your mind, but it would be less confusing if you would tell us."

"Well," he began after a long pause, "it isn't every day that you find out that you're gay."

This guy was something else! Unbelievable. "What the hell makes you think you're gay?"

"Well, normal guys don't go around sucking other guys off or fucking them in the ass, do they? Or kissing them?" The man was actually blushing!

Privately, I agreed that the kiss was a little over the top, but I merely asked, "Just what do you think is 'normal'?"

"Normal is sex between men and women -- you know, making babies, that kind of stuff."

"Did you ever jack off? Or has Sandy ever sucked you off?"

He stared at me, not answering.

"That's not making babies, pal. That's making fun." I paused to let that idea sink in. "Normal is doing what feels good -- by yourself or with a willing partner, as long as you don't hurt anyone." I paused, then added, "Didn't you ever hear of bisexuals? There's a growing belief among psychologists that all 'normal' people are, to one degree or another, bisexual. Let me ask you this: Do you think Sandy's a lesbian because she and Louise went to bed and licked each other's pussies? Am I gay because I willingly sucked your cock? I don't think so."

I'll say this for Jeff, He was bound to punish himself one way or another. "All right," he said abruptly, "let's have another drink." After refilling our glasses, he turned to me. "Theoretically, I suppose you're probably right about this bisexual stuff." He paused, then went on, "This isn't easy to say in front of Sandy, but I think you should both hear it." He reached for my hand and looked me in the eye. "I have serious feelings for you, Jim," he said softly.

"You want to know what I think? I said. "I think you're like a kid with a new puppy. Of course you have feelings. This would be a hell of a world if we didn't have them. That's what makes life so interesting. Why don't you ask Sandy how she feels toward Louise?"

Jeff looked inquiringly at Sandy. She stared levelly back. "I was in love with Louise -- perhaps I still am. In case you want to know," she went on, "I also love Jim, although not nearly as much as I love you, you great lummox!" 

She jumped up and sat on Jeff's lap, wrapping her arms tightly around him. "I love you so much, you fool!" She gave him a warm, passionate kiss.

I stood, and looked at my watch. It was still early in the afternoon. "Do you mind if I leave my clubs here for a little while? I don't want to lug them downtown -- Bette isn't expecting me for several hours yet, and I think I'll go to the office for a while." Sandy and Jeff walked me to the door. While Jeff opened it, Sandy threw her arms around my neck. "Thank you, darling," she said as she gave me a passionate kiss.

I turned to Jeff. Instead to acceoting my extended hand, he also hugged me, and to my chagrin, he kissed me again. I pushed him away. "Enough, already. Love you guys." with a wave, I turned and went to the elevator. As I stepped into the car, I thought, what the hell? Why should I pretend around Bette? I'd have told Louise about the afternoon's fun and games; why not tell her surrogate?

I let myself into my apartment and looked around. Bette had evidently dressed in a hurry because she had left her nightgown, a bra and other clothes scattered around the living room. I gathered up her clothes and started to carry them into the bedroom. The door was nearly closed. Just before I reached it, I heard Bette moan.

Curious, I nudged the door open just a bit and peeked into the room. Bette was lying on her back, legs widely spread, and another woman lay beteeen her thighs, her face buried in Bette's pussy. The other woman still had pantyhose on. I silently admired her perky little ass for a moment, then decided to try an experiment.

As silently as I had entered, I backed out of the apartment, carefully redistributing the clothing where I had found it. I quietly let myself out, and drove to the office for a couple of hours work. At 5:15, I locked the office and drove home. I had decided to discover where our level of mutual trust lay. If she volunteered information about her visitor, then I would tell her how I had really spent the afternoon. Tit for Tat. Childish, perhaps, but if we were going to be together for the long haul, I felt I needed to know what to expect. 

After quickly stopping at the Morrison's to retrieve my clubs, trying to look like a successful golfer I noisily entered the apartment. Bette was watching a program on TV.

"How was the game?"

"Fine. Did you get a chance to rest up this afternoon?"

She hesitated for just a moment, then smoothly replied, "I had a wonderful nap. Come, watch this."

We chatted about inconsequential things during supper. Then we watched TV until it was time for bed. I decided that if I wanted trust, I had better learn to give it. When the program ended, I turned off the set. Bette stood, preparing to head for the bedroom, but I caught her arm. "Sit down, dear," I said, "there's something I need to tell you." Then I told her about the threesome I had with the Morrisons that afternoon.

Bette was quiet for a long time. Then she looked up and said, "Thank you for telling me, Jim. I already knew about it -- I had called Sandy just before you came in to find out when you and Jeff were expected back. I also know you left there about three o"clock. Did you come home then?"

"Yes"

"Then you know I didn't sleep all afternoon."

"That's true."

"Well, aren't you even curious who she is?"

"I figured that when you want to tell me, you will."

"Her name is Susan Blake. She's the dearest friend I ever had in my whole life -- woman friend, anyway. She kept me sane when Phil was . . .'breaking me in' as he put it." Bette made an ugly face and shuddered. "We see each other about once a month. She's a lezzie, and I think she's in love with me."

"How do we do it?"

"You're not upset?"

"Why should I be? Are you upset because I fucked Sandra and let Jeff ream me? And then, to top it all off, even kissed me?"

She smiled her reply. "Then you don't mind if I keep on seeing Susan?" When I shook my head, she added, "Phil would have killed me!"

"Just don't run off with her; at least until I get a chance to make a better offer."

"I won't, I promise."

The week slowly passed. I had no idea what to expect at the Rollin's party but considering where we had met, I had a pretty good idea. We had consciously starved ourselves sexually for three days before late Friday afternoon arrived. As I said, I had a pretty good idea what this party would be like, but I never guessed for a moment that it would also be one I'd never forget. 

I came home from the office at noon and found Bette standing before the mirror in our bedroom wearing only her garter belt, hose and lipstick on her incredible nipples. I almost weakened, but it's a good thing I didn't. Even then I knew I'd need all the strength I could muster before this night was out.





Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 05



I hurried into the shower. Bette had thoughtfully laid out a sports outfit for me; a comfortable pair of slacks, my favorite polo shirt and a worn sport jacket. While I dressed, I watched Bette slide into a wonderfully tight, white knit minidress that announced that her upswept breasts were unfettered by a bra. It also, conveniently, zipped up the front. Not for the first time I wondered where the hell did she find these clothes? She touched up the lipstick on her slightly protruding upper lip. "There. How do I look?"

"Ask me that again, and we'll do our swinging right here," I threatened, making a terrible leer.

Bette giggled. "I packed a bag. Grab it and let's go!"

Several times during the long drive, Bette seemed to be on the verge of saying something, then lapsing into silence. I assumed she was nervous, perhaps because she was unsure what to expect, but I was surprised considering how enthusiastic she had been about the Ten/Thirty Club. It was probably only stage fright.

It was still daylight when we pulled into the Rollins' driveway. Steve had not exaggerated. Their nearest neighbor was at least a quarter mile away. Several cars were parked near the garage -- there must have been ten or more, although I didn't count them. I pulled in next to a big Buick. As I stepped from the car, I grabbed our bag and paused to look around.

The old farm house in front of us had been substantially rebuilt and now included an obviously new wing that was larger than the original building. The outbuildings -- barn, tool shed, garage -- were grouped to our left. We heard a woman's laughter followed by a loud splash from behind the house. I grinned at Bette. "What'll you bet they're skinny dipping?"

Although my curiosity urged me to go around behind the house and find out, we politely went to the front door. I raised the knocker, but before it could fall, Steve opened the door. A big welcoming grin split his face. "Welcome, welcome," he said before grabbing Bette in a tight embrace and giving her a passionate kiss. I wondered if he greeted all his female guests so enthusiastically.

He opened his eyes and offered his hand to me. "That can wait," he said as we shook hands. He reached for my bag. "Come in, come in and meet the people."

We followed him into the living room. My first impression was that of a small crowded cocktail party. People were standing in a narrow room decorated with old movie posters. Almost everyone held a drink and some were munching small canapes and other tidits from strategically placed crystal and silver trays.

Carol detached herself from a group and came forward, welcoming hands outstretched. "Jim and Bette. I'm so glad to see you. Come and meet the other beautiful people. But first, let me get you drinks."

Carol was wearing what at first appeared to be a sedate cocktail dress. On closer examination, however, she was nearly topless and bottomless. The dress featured a heavy, multilayered collar, waist, and hem with only the sheerest fabric between. She was quite obviously nude under the dress, and I watched her butt cheeks twinkle as she led us into the kitchen where an impromptu bar had been established.

"Whatever you'd like is here," she said. "Fix yourselves a drink and come in and meet the people. It's easier to tell them apart while they still have their clothes on."

As she walked out the door, Bette leaned over, her eyes sparkling in muted excitement. "Boy, do I feel over dressed!" I mixed a pair of stiff drinks and followed Bette into the next room. 

Carol saw us coming, and clapped her hands for attention. The murmur of conversation fell away. Then she took our hands. "Please," she said. "I'd like everyone to meet Jim and Bette Bromfield. They are our very newest best friends."

Then she led us around the room. We were introducted first to an odd couple; a slender, pleasant looking middle-aged woman with light brown hair wearing a dark cocktail dress, and a much younger man in sports clothes. Carol paused in front of them. "I'd like you to meet Jane and Blair Harper." We shook hands. Then as we turned away, Carol said under her breath to me, "Jane fucks like your friend did last weekend. After she gets going, she's a regular machine!"

"Her husband seems awfully young," Bette said.

Carol snorted. "He's not her husband. That's her son. I'll say this for her; she raised him right." Carol looked speculatively at Bette. "If you get a chance at him, take it. Considering he's barely 18, he's very good."

We paused before another mismatched couple. She was young, barely out of her teens. She was also very slender and wore a plain black dress with no ornamentation. Neither did she wear makeup. The man was a good deal more than twice her age with an unbecoming paunch, gray -- almost white -- hair, and beautifully cut clothes. He wore a guardsmen's moustache. I almost expected to see him twirl it.

"Meet Jennie Sofer," Carol said. "Her husband is over there . . ." she pointed across the room, "talking to Bridget. Jim, shake hands with Tod Benson." Carol paused and looked around the room. "I don't see Sam." While he shook my hand, Benson said evenly, "I think she's otherwise engaged, if you take my meaning."

Carol sighed. "Damn that woman. Why can't she wait like everyone else?" Not waiting for Tod's response, she turned away again, and we trailed after her. "It seems we've got practically one of everything here," Carol said. "Tod is practically a certifiable pedophile. Jenny, on the other hand, belongs to a religious cult called FFJ -- which stands for "Fuck for Jesus." That's why she wears no makeup. She likes a big daddy, however, and she keeps herself shaved for Tod.

"Her husband, Alex, is a cameraman and works at the studio for us. Sam, Tod's wife, is another odd one. She'll go for the occasional man, but I think she prefers women. Cute women like you, Bette." Carol cast a sly sideways glance at my girl. "Do you swing from the other side of the plate?

"Ah," she said, not waiting for an answer, as she stopped in front of a very young, very attractive couple. I was instantly reminded of Pat Boone and the Osmond brothers. These young people fairly reeked of wholesome family values. The girl wore a sensible prom dress. He was the only man in the room wearing a tie. "Jim, Bette, meet the Rounder twins, Lucy and Mark."

We shook hands and said the conventional things. Carol steered us away. "Watch out for those two," she said. "We seem to miss things after they've been here, but they more than earn their keep because they are the only incestuous twins we know. They're older than they look, and I know you'll like her Jim." Carol lowered her voice confidentially. "Steve says she's a great piece of ass for a kid barely 18." I gulped. I saw Bette's eyes widen.

"You'd think she and Tod would make a wonderful pair," Carol added in a normal voice, "but she almost can't stand to be in the same room with him."

We stopped before a woman in early middle age whose basic good looks were somewhat tarnished by the excessive makeup she wore. Her dress was very revealing. It was cut so low that her ample breasts nearly flowed out of it. Somehow, I felt certain I had seen her somewhere before. She seemed relaxed and was obviously in a good humor. "Hi, Cor," Carol said effusively. "I've brought fresh meat. Jim and Bette, this is Corrine McLaran. Where's Mac?"

Corrine shrugged. "I don't know," she said. "Off chasing pussy, I imagine."

Carol explained as we walked away that Coirrine was a porno actress nearing retirement. Of course she looked familiar. I had seen her dozens of times in porno flicks.

We found Alex Soper in a corner with a young woman who was blessed with flaming red hair and freckles to match. He had both hands in her dress; one on her bodice, the other through a lowered zipper in the side of her dress. He didn't bother to remove them as we approached. Carol frowned, "Can't you wait until everyone's here?" Then she shrugged and said to herself, "I guess not." She introduced us to Alex and Bridget.

"I'd shake hands," Alex said, "but as you can see, my hands are full." The girl smiled helplessly at us. I smiled back. I had a sudden conviction that she and I could become good friends.

Carol looked at her. "Where's Spencer?"

"He's out in the pool with Barb and George." The minute Bridget opened her mouth, I heard the most beautiful lilting Irish brogue I had heard in years. I had to know this girl better. Carol then led us back into the kitchen so we could freshen our drinks. She excused herself and left to attend to her other guests.

I realized we were expected to circulate. Bette and I looked at each other. "Tell you what," I said. "I'm going out by the pool. You look around inside. We'll meet in a few minutes and compare notes."

Again, I had underestimated Bette. She was more at ease than I was. She laughed. "Don't get lost," she said. Then she turned and followed Carol into the crowd.

I went outside, toward the splashing sounds and found a nude woman slowly, methodically swimming laps in the pool. She paid no attention to me, so I turned and went back into the house. 

In just the few minutes I had been gone, the atmosphere in the house had changed. I looked around for Bette, but didn't see her. Just then, Carol clapped her hands again for our attention. "Everything's set," she said.

I followed the crowd into the game room. Beanbag chairs and tumbling mats were randomly scattered around a large room that boasted a small stage and a huge TV screen in one corner. I looked around again for Bette, but she had disappeared. I chose a beanbag chair against the wall, and settled into it.

"Hi, gramps," said a familiar voice. "Mind if I join you?"

"You still owe me one," I said darkly.

Carol laughed, her voice tinkling over the murmur of voices. "I think we'll be even -- maybe even more than even after tonight," she said.

Steve stepped through a small door at the back of the stage and cleared his throat. Everyone fell silent. "Thanks for coming tonight. I have a special treat for you. Well, actually two treats. We're just releasing a new film that I think is going to out fuck The Devil in Miss Jones and out swallow Deep Throat. This film also introduces new, fresh stars. Hopefully they'll bring new life to the adult moving picture industry."

There was a smattering of polite applause while I tried to understand what I had just heard. Releasing adult films? Were these people involved with porno flicks? I leaned over to Carol. "Pardon me for being so dense, but . . . are you . . . well, in the movies?"

"Yes," she replied calmly, "we have a studio. Most of our guests tonight work for or with us. You and Bette and a couple of others are the only outsiders here tonight. Now hush up and watch."

The screen brightened and soon the production logo and legal disclaimers appeared, followed by a list of names, which faded to a couple seated in a car. The camera focused tightly on the female star. 

MY GOD!! IT WAS LOUISE!!

Then the camera shifted to the man. Somehow I wasn't surprised that it was Phil. Suddenly, I desperately needed to find Bette, to warn her! I turned to Carol and whispered, "I've got to find Bette. It's urgent!"

Carol smiled and patted my hand. "Don't worry," she said. "Everything's OK. Don't worry. Just relax and enjoy the show."

"You don't understand. . ."

"Yes, I do. Bette knows that her husband and your wife are tonight's stars. She's not worried; why should you be?"

Although I can't say I really relaxed, I actually began to enjoy the show except, of course, when Phil's repulsive tool was in view. My revulsion was not widely shared. Every time he exposed the damn thing, there was a general murmur of approval -- at least from the women in the audience.

My voyeuristic tendencies took over and I found I enjoyed the extensive orgy scenes as much as the scenes where Louise's clothing was removed and she was fondled, petted and fucked. Even on the screen, the woman's class and style were obvious.

Carol found the fly to my pants and slipped the zipper down. Her cool little hand crept inside. "Ooooo, nice," she whispered as she tugged my cock free from my chorts, skinned my foreskin back, and leaning over, touched the tip of her tongue to my exposed glans.

That got my attention. I reached over and began running the backs of my fingernails gently over the skin on the back of her neck. A woman behind me moaned. I heard other people moving around. The film ended. There was a smattering of applause.

Steve jumped up on the stage again. "We're lucky tonight to have our own Lucy and Mark back to give us another show. Let's give them a nice hand."

This time the applause was more enthusiastic. The young couple strolled on stage. She wore a pinafore that made her look about 12 years old. He had on shorts and a T-shirt. His shoes were run over and one stocking had gathered around his ankle. The girl sat on a small stool while the boy rummaged in a box of toys and came out with a toy stethoscope. He put it in his ears and placed the cup against the girl's breast. She protested, so he hooked the device in her ears and, pulling up his T-shirt, placed the instrument's cup over his heart.

Her eyes got big as she listened. Then he took the instrument back, and this time he persuaded the girl to unbutton her blouse and lie down on a narrow cot. He played the instrument over various parts of her body. Whenever she protested, he surrendered the stethoscope and put the cup on various parts of his body. Finally, he opened his pants and put the stethoscope on his cock. She jumped up, her opened dress falling off her shoulders, and ordered him to lie down. Then she took his stiff young cock into her mouth She was bare to the waist, her small conical breasts and puffy areolas brushing his arm while she tugged his shorts off. The audience gasped when they realized the boy had no pubic hair. He sat up and began suckling her tiny breasts. I felt terribly debauched as I watched those young people, and my erection was actually becoming painful. 

He soon had her lying on the cot. She, too, lacked pubic hair. He crawled on top of her, forced her knees apart, and drove himself into her body. She began yelling, and suddenly there was a terrible commotion. The door behind the stage opened, and a woman dressed as a schoolmarm, ruler in hand, marched onto the scene. The little girl let out a bleat, and ran off the stage into the audience where some kind adult undoubtedly consoled her.

I hadn't really paid that much attention to the tableau because Carol's sucking had claimed my nearly undivided attention. "Look at the stage," she hissed.

Another shocking surprise. The schoolmarm was Bette. She sat on the cot. The boy stood between her legs. She took his member in her hand, examined it, and then bent down and took it between her lips. Apparently satisfied, she ordered him to lie down. Then she stood and loosened the scarf over her head. She unpinned her hair, She unbuttoned, untied, rolled down, concealed, flashed, and when the audience saw her upturned breasts, men and women alike began calling for more.

Bette gave one of the finest strip I've ever seen. I don't know where she learned it, but it was a stunning performance. My cock was about to explode when she finally lay on the cot and spread her legs for the boy. He jumped on her like a cat on a moving fence and began drilling himself into her like a jackhammer. She couldn't begin to keep up with him, but very quickly arched happily into the noisy throes of her first orgasm. The boy pulled out and jumped down into the audience looking for another friendly and willing female. In the meanwhile, young Blair Harper, the mama's boy, took Mark's place between Bette's welcoming thighs.

His pace was more practiced, more professional. Carol whispered, "He ought to be good. He's been fucking his mother since he was five years old!"

He quickly had Bette climbing that wonderful mountain again. Her body began to convulse, and her skin turned a mottled pink. She screamed as she soared to still greater orgasmic heights. His mother must be proud of him, I thought sardonically.

Blair then withdrew, and like Mark, came into the audience looking for more willing female flesh. He came to our mat and silently extended his hand to Carol. She looked at me apologetically. "This is something I have to do," she said as she took the boy's hand and followed him around the corner.

While I was wondering who Bette's next customer would be, I felt a little hand on my stomach. It was young Lucy. I wanted so badly to fuck her hairless little cunt that I almost came just thinking about it. Yet she looked so young that the unravelling part of my brain that was still sane screamed, NO! NO! This is wrong! She sat where Carol had been, and reached for my cock. "I want this big thing in me," she pouted in a little girl voice. She lay back on the mat and spread her legs. I salved my conscious by promising myself I would just taste her, and slid between her spread legs. I gently ran my tongue up the crease of her slit. "Oh, that's good, Daddy, lick it again." This woman knew how to play her nymphet role! Encouraged, I began licking inside and outside her vulva, touching the tip of her clitoris on almost every swipe of my tongue. I sucked her delicate labia into my mouth, and finally rolled her clit back and forth between my moist lips. The girl was sobbing in ecstacy. "In me, in me, please put it in me, Daddy!"

My mind shifted into neutral, and I crawled higher on her slight frame, nuzzling briefly on her puffy breasts. She reached down to grab my cock, which she swept up and down her slot. Then she grunted, "Now, Daddy! Give it a great big push!"

As I did so, her little torso wiggled up and down. Pressing into her was like putting myself into a great, tight, animated hotwater bottle. Every wiggle of her torso let me in that much deeper. Finally I was as deep into her as I could get. She put her legs on my shoulders and began riding my rigid cock as if it were a pick handle.

Suddenly, I was aware that someone's hand was supporting my scrotum, stroking me and the girl's labia as I moved in and out of her. Then I felt something wet and warm in my ass.

Remembering my recent experience with Jeff, I was torn between hope and fear, but that didn't interfere with my randy plunges into my little partner. Her cries of esctacy were becoming more shrill. "Offff, Offff, EEEEEEyah!" She exploded. I couldn't hold it any longer. My cock began to spasm and I squirted and squirted and squirted into her. Then I collapsed on her tiny frame. She pushed at me from below. "Get off me; you're much too heavy!" The little girl voice was gone. This was a grown woman speaking.

A much friendlier hand was still caressing my ass and scrotum. I looked over my shoulder. It was Bridget.



Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 06



Synopsis: In the last chapter, Jim and Bette accepted an invitation to a weekend swing party. The party continues:

* * * * *

Bridget grinned at me. "I do love to pet a man's bum, I do," she said in her lilting accent. She was lushly, gloriously, naked. She happily crawled up my body and offered her right breast to my mouth. "Is this what you wanted, then?" she asked.

"Yes, dear," I said, "but let me catch my breath, first. That little girl drained me."

"Yes, she does that," Bridget agreed. "I'll just be getting a drink. Would you like something?"

"Yes, I would. How about a bourbon-water?"

"Coming right up," the redhead said cheerfully. As she stood and undulated toward the bar in the kitchen, I admired the erotic play of muscles in her buttocks. Briefly, I wondered why Steve and Carol had tracked us down and brought us to their party. Having seen the video, I was sure this was no coincidence.

My questions were shelved as I saw what appeared to be a mass of approaching humanity; a rolling orgy composed of a dozen or more moving, stroking, sucking, kissing, licking, fucking humans. 

The group grope was moving amoeba-like in my direction. Corrine, naked now like everyone else, reached me first. She was crawling around the edge of the group, trying to work her way into the center of that writhing mass. She crawled over my extended legs, lifting her heavy breasts over my thighs. "Do you mind?" she asked politely before she slurped my cock into her incredibly hot, sweet mouth.

Her tongue gently caressed my pudendum, the sensitive underside of my cock's glans, while her tightly circled lips, lubricated with crimson lipstick, attempted to stimulate my spent cock. 

"Jesus, that feels good," I said. "Where did you learn to do that?" She started to respond, and I immediately regretted asking the question.

"I wish you wouldn't blaspheme," primly came from a two- headed creature on my immediate right. I looked more closely, and saw that two heads were focused on the same rampant erection, and I realized that Jennie Sofer and a man with red toenails were both blowing Tod. Getting into the spirit of things, I slipped my right index finger into Jennie's womanhood, and ran my left hand over someone's bottom on my other side. But my attention was concen trated on Corrine and the world-class head she was giving me. "Whatever it is you're doing, don't stop," I pleaded, "we can talk about it later." 

A smooth female thigh slid across my face and a ripe, swollen vagina settled on my mouth. The combination of the ripe, musky, female who was rubbing her swollen cleft up and down my face, and Corrine's inspired and practiced fellatio created combined sensations that pushed me over the edge. Suddenly, much to my surprise, I erupted again. 

The woman crouching over me began to come at the same moment. The fluids gushed out of her, and poured down my chin to my neck and the floor. She swung her thigh off my head, and turned around, her breasts brushing my left arm. "Oh, that was good," she whispered, as she kissed my cheek. "Let's get together later." She stood up, and I watched the light reflecting from her golden hair, as she walked away. I had no idea who she was.

The itch had been scratched. The celebrants slowly untangled themselves, or gave a few last pushes and shoves, and stood up or just crawled away. I stayed where I was and closed my eyes.

"Oh, there you are!"

I opened an eye. Bridget and Bette were standing over me, giving me a wonderful view of two beautiful mons, one covered by a cascade of red hair, the other clean shaven.

"Where am I? Did anybody get the license number?" I croaked.

The girls laughed. "Come on, sport,"Bette said, "We're counting on you."

"Write me a letter next year," I said, eyes tightly closed.

"Stand back, girls," another woman's voice commanded. "I've seen this condition before, and I know how to cure it. Watch closely."

I wondered what was going to happen next. Suddenly, I felt a thousand tiny, almost imperceptible teasing/tickling sensations on my chest, stomach, over my genitals and down my thighs. I peeked through slitted eyes to see Carol brushing her hair over my body. 

"Is that what you call a hair job?" Bette asked.

"Call it what you like," Carol replied, "it never fails."

I didn't believe it was possible, but my poor, abused member was actually trying to sit up.

"Enough, all ready," I said. "I'm going for a swim."

I climbed awkwardly to my feet, holding Bette's arm for my balance. "Why don't you come with me?" I asked, holding her arm.

She read something serious in my expression because her face suddenly grew still. "I guess I'd better," she said. She leaned over and kissed Bridget on the mouth and pinched her nipple. "See you in a little while, love," she said.

Hand in hand, we went out to the pool and jumped into the water at the shallow end. "What's going on?" I asked.

"It's a long story," Bette said. "Much too long to go into here; I'll tell you on the way home or the first time we have a little privacy and won't be interrupted. Can you trust me and concentrate on having a good time for just a little longer? I promise that we're both OK."

Well, you either trust someone or you don't. Bette hadn't always been completely candid with me, but neither had I with her.

I sighed. Then I grinned at her. "OK. If you say it's all right, that's good enough for me for now."

Her reaction surprised me. "Oh, thank you, thank you, Jim," she said, throwing her arms around me, and giving me a hug and a kiss. "You won't be sorry."

We strolled back into the house. It was hard to for me to believe that barely fifteen minutes earlier, these quiet, restrained people standing around the kitchen had been rolling and thrashing around on the floor in orgastic ecstacy, indiscriminately fucking and sucking as if the world were ending.

Tod Benson, now looking like an obscene Santa Claus, given the combination of his tousled white hair, sagging belly and a pudgy little circumcised cock peeking from between his heavy legs, was talking to Jane, and her son, Blair. 

I glanced at a woman I hadn't seen before, noting her blonde hair, solid frame, and chunky breasts, wondering if it was she who had ejaculated all over my face. I didn't think so, although I couldn't be sure. 

I looked around to see if there were other blondes in the room. Debby Longtree caught my glance and smiled encouragingly.

She struck me as one of those unfortunate women who look better with their clothes on. Somehow, naked, she seemed gawky and awkward. Perhaps I'm prejudiced against tall women; I don't know. But I was sure Debby was not my mystery woman. I deliber ately looked away.

I told Bette about my strange encounter with the mysterious blonde. I asked her if it could have been one of the women I hadn't yet met. Bette shrugged her shoulders, and pointed to a small woman with sharp features, black hair and startlingly conical breasts.

"That's Barb Adams," she said. "She's not a blonde, but I don't think you've met her."

Blonde or not, Barb Adams looked interesting. Just then, Carol joined us briefly and took Bette away. I decided to meet Barb Adams. 

I approached her. "Hi," I said, "I'm Jim Bromfield. I don't think we've met."

She smiled and extended her hand.

Despite my years of swinging experience, I have never learned what to do with my eyes when shaking hands with a naked woman.

She sensed my embarrassment and laughed. "Go ahead and look," she said. "I did plenty of looking myself as you walked over here. I like the way you dangle and swing to and fro."

Now it was my turn to laugh. "I guess there's a special etiquette that covers situations like this. I just don't know what it is."

"I don't think any of us do," she said. Then she greeted her husband, a stocky man with thinning brown/gray hair and a pleasant grin, who appeared through the doorway. "George, this is Jim Bromfield. I think you've already met his wife."

I stuck out my hand. He gripped it. "It's good to meet you, Jim," he said, "welcome to the Club." 

"Is this a regular organization?" I asked, feeling stupid that I even had to ask such a question.

"Oh." George turned to his wife. "Did I say something out of turn?" he asked.

Barb shrugged. I just love it when naked women do that. "He'll find out sooner or later. We might as well tell him." she said.

"You tell him," George said. "Jane's ditched her kid; I'm going to see if I can grab her before he comes back." He turned and walked away. 

Barb shook her head. "You'll have to excuse George," she said. "He lusts after that old bitch, and once in a while he gets lucky, but when her boy sees him coming, he doesn't have a chance."

George's love life was of no interest to me. My present circumstances were. "What the hell's going on, Barb?" I asked.

"Let's go out in the kitchen and fix a drink, then find a quiet place where we can talk," she replied.

We got our drinks and went out to the pool. I sat on the diving board. She stood in front of me at first, then sat next to me. 

"I've been around Satin Studios since before the Rollinses bought it, but even I don't know everything that's going on. Only Steve and Carol do." She paused, lost in thought.

"But first, let me say that there's nothing sinister or illegal going on here, except maybe a little coke or a puff of grass. The sort of thing you might find at any Hollywood party." She paused again. "I don't want to give the wrong impression, but the reason this party is a little wilder than some is because Steve and Carol are in the wild and wooly end of the entertainment business. They sell sex for a living." 

"Carol writes and directs, and Steve produces porno films. These parties, for them, are part fun and part business. The film you saw tonight was a sneak preview. Carol and Steve taped the audience reaction and will add and delete scenes according to the way they were received by what must be the most jaded collection of blue movie critics on earth."

She paused to let me absorb this; then she went on. "As I said, they're in the sex business. Most of the people here perform either on camera, behind the camera, or behind the scenes raising money, pushing the product; you know, all the grimy bullshit that this business -- any movie business -- seems to require.These parties are partly `thank you', partly letting off steam, and partly business. It's the business part that I don't like."

Surprised by the sudden vehemence in her voice, I looked up and saw tears glistening in her eyes. "What do you mean?" I asked quietly.

"Well, the business part comes in two flavors. Carol uses these parties to develop scripts. How do people behave in certain circumstances? What turns you on? In short, she uses these parties like a living laboratory. I don't mind that. It's the other that bothers me."

"What do you mean `the other'?"

"OK. Say Steve is in New York trying to raise a million big ones. He's talking to the money people. The money guy has his pen in one hand and his checkbook in the other. He looks up at Steve, and says, 'I'm going to be out on the Coast next week. You suppose you could arrange a little party with some of your starlets?' Do you think Steve or any other producer will say no?

"That's why the Club was formed. Steve can put together a party while other producers are still picking up the phone. It's just that every now and then, my scruples jump up and bite me. I don't mind fucking on camera; I just don't like tricking to buy the film."

Barb jumped up. "Let's get something to eat. All this talking is making me hungry."

She had given me a lot to think about. 

I begged off. I wanted to stay by myself for a little while, and to try to think through what was beginning to seem like a very complicated situation that obviously had much to do with Bette, and possibly with me.

I was confused. On the one hand, my noble side was telling me that my mama didn't raise no whore, and to get my pants on and get the hell out, while my practical side was asking when was the last time I was surrounded by so much willing world class nooky? I knew this was a moral issue that I couldn't and shouldn't try to resolve in fifteen minutes, because if I did, any decision I made would probably be wrong.

A shadowy figure came out of the house and glided toward me. At first I thought it was Bette, but as the woman came closer, I realized she was a stranger. I also realized she was a blonde.

"Hi," she said, "I told you we'd get together later."

"Hi yourself," I said, "what do people call you?"

"Ah, my friends call me Sam. You may call me Sam."

"Hi, Sam."

"Barb told me she had spilled the beans, and I came to see how high your dudgeon could get."

"Let's not confuse things," I said. "It's true that Barb gave me a lot to think about; on the other hand, I didn't exactly fall off a turnip truck coming here tonight. Come over here. Let's see if my memory is playing tricks or if you really feel as good as you felt."

"OK."

Sam stepped into my arms. Her soft breasts nuzzled against my chest. She tilted her head up for a kiss. I closed my eyes, and let myself drift in her erotic embrace. An urgency began developing in my loins. I gently rubbed her bottom, stroking her smooth flanks. 

Her tongue worked between my lips, and was soon exploring the inside of my mouth. We began tongue wrestling, and I nibbled on her lower lip and licked the corners of her mouth. Then I kissed her ear and ran my tongue inside. She pulled away, and began raining soft love kisses on my lips, my nose, my eyes.

"I think I'm going to like you very much, Jim Bromfield," she said softly. "Most of the men here think that foreplay means a tap on the shoulder, but after our little romp in there," she said, gesturing toward the house, "I'd say you know how to make love."

She pulled my head down and fastened her hungry open mouth to mine again for a longer, even more passionate kiss. I was becoming seriously, painfully erect, pushing myself into her soft belly. "I love this, too, Jim," she said dreamily, thrusting her mound back against me.

"I think there is another group grope developing in there," she added, "but let's stay out here and get better acquainted."

I answered her by pulling her soft warmth tightly against me, my lips and my stiffening cock pressing more urgently against her wet mouth and her voluptuous body. We were both breathing more rapidly. She took my hand and drew me into the shadows. 

"The grass will feel cool, Jim. Right now, I feel hot. Feel me," she said. Holding my hand, she dropped to her knees and rolled on her side. She pulled me down next to her. Then she took my hand and placed it on her breast, then between her legs. "See what I mean?"

She was incredible. Almost uncomfortably warm to touch, yet our bodies seemed to mesh as I stroked her face, and kissed that secret place in her neck. I moved my hand gently over her breast, teasing her soft nipple with the palm of my hand. It felt as if I were giving, as well as receiving, both heat and life.

I moved my hand across her stomach, and took her nipple between my teeth, teasing it with the tip of my tongue. Then I sucked her breast deep into my mouth. I was rewarded by a sharp, ragged intake of breath. 

I gathered both breasts in my hands and brought both nipples to my mouth. She was breathing much faster, now, and she began rubbing me.

I was becoming dangerously over-stimulated, so I parted her legs and rolled between them, lying out of her reach on my stomach in the cool grass, facing her shadowy delta.

Soft feminine thighs suddenly bracketed my head and a swollen labia, cushioned by a dense growth of light hair, rubbed against my nose and mouth. She was moving restlessly and her legs were opening and closing. I began kissing and nibbling the inside of first one thigh, then the other. Her slit was opening as her labia became engorged, and when I pressed my mouth wide against her opening flower, she bucked her lower torso furiously against me.

"God damn you Jim, I want that cock in me NOW!"

This was no time for smart remarks. I pulled myself up over her. Her legs were spread wide to receive me. I felt her hard little fist grip my my throbbing cock and guide it straight into her hot cunt.

"FUCK ME!" she ordered! I fucked that little woman every way I could. I banged away at one side of her vagina, then the other. I tried to hit her G spot, and rode her high to be sure I was making contact with her clitoris.

At first, she was satisfied merely to buck back against my plunging sword, but soon after we had taken each other's measure, I bunched her bent legs together against her breasts, and wrapped my arms around her, immobilizing her and forcing her to remain still while I plundered her tight, clasping tunnel by hammering myself into her. She had a few tricks of her own.

I was pounding into the final stretch; and could feel that magical moment beginning, with the familiar tongs tightening across my loins, when she thrust two fingers into my rectum. When she touched my prostate, I almost came prematurely. I began thinking baseball scores, resolutely avoiding watching her face as she squirmed and panted through a series of mini orgasms. The big one was coming and I plunged harder, deeper, and faster into her. I suddenly realized I was trying to hurt her with my plundering tool, and I began slowing, but she said, "Slam that fucking cock into my tiny hole! Do like Tod's friends do! Fuck me hard and dirty. Make me know I've been fucked!"

Rivulets of sweat were pouring off both of us, and her legs were slick. Suddenly, I felt my come begin coursing through my urethra, and I redoubled my efforts to shove my cock, my loins, my shoulders and my thighs into that tiny source of everlasting life. With a final lunge, my cock spurted again and again, bathing her womb with my seed.

As the first spurt gushed into her body, her orgasmic spasms began. I felt her belly begin to undulate. She arched her spine and opened her mouth in a silent scream. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and her jaw gaped in a mock rictus. 

The veins and muscles in her neck swelled, and she began to shudder. My spasms had subsided by that time, so I gripped her as tightly as I could, while her little body jerked and danced through an almost endless series of uncontrollable spasms. 

Gradually she quieted like a child stops crying. I was still inside her, and I continued to hold, kiss, and caress her, helping her down the other side of what must have been a monumental orgasm. 

She wiped her eyes with her fingers, and rubbed the back of her hand across her nose. She looked at me, seemingly for the first time. "I'm sorry about that," she said. "I guess I got a little carried away." She smiled.

I smiled back. "What do you do when you have a really good climax?" I asked.

"Go on," she said. "This was about as good as they get." She paused. "Now you're going to have to move. You're getting heavy."

I quickly rolled to the side, but continued to hold and caress her. She looked seriously into my face. "You better stop this," she said. "You're going to spoil me. You're supposed to get laid here, not loved."

"I know," I said, "I'm a foolish romantic, but I can't help it. Corny as it may sound, I'm always in love with the girl that I'm with. Always."

She looked at me again. "Yes," she said after a long thoughtful pause, "I think you probably are. I envy you. I wish I could say that, too, but it's time we came back to earth, Jim," she said with a sigh. 

We stood up. Solemnly, she shook my hand. "Thank you for a mighty fine fuck, partner. We must do it again some time."

I followed her into the house. The party had moved else where. A few people were standing around in the kitchen eating tidbits of smoked turkey, lox, crackers and other goodies. Bridget was among them. 




Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 06



"Nothin' like a good fuck to improve the appetite," she said winking at me. This was the first time I had seen her under a strong light. Tiny freckles dotted her skin, most noticeably on her soft young breasts, upper arms, and back. 

She saw me looking at them. "Sure, and while yer countin' me spots . . ." she said in a broad burlesque of her usual lilt, while I held up a hand.

"I was just thinking how they compliment your fair skin and lovely coloring," I said sincerely.

She looked closely at my face, decided I was being truthful, and said, "Ah, you'd say anythin' at awl ter git in a gurl's knickers, now wouldn't yer, Bucko?"

I shook my head. "You're looking at a spent buck -- a very spent buck -- my dear," I said. "If I don't find a place to lay down soon, I'm going to collapse."

"Well here, we can't have that," she said, taking my hand and leading me into the hall. 

She paused and opened a door. "OK," she said, "This room will do us." She looked at the grass stains on my knees and elbows. "If you'd like a shower, there's one just there," she said pointing at another door. 

I went into the bathroom, and was adjusting the water temperature when I saw her reflection in the mirror as she stood behind me. "Is there room for two in here?" she asked. 

We enjoyed a communal shower, soaping and rubbed each other's backs, fronts, and sides. She stripped back my flaccid foreskin and carefully but gently washed my glans. Obviously, a foreskin was no novelty for her.

I reciprocated by gently, but diligently, soaping and washing her rectum and womanly cleft. We were both squeaky clean when we emerged from that hot, steamy room, and began vigorously toweling each other.

Bridget turned down the covers, and I gratefully stretched out full length on the clean sheet. She left the light on in the bathroom, but turned off the light by our heads and snuggled in next to me. She lay on her side facing me, her head resting on my chest, with an arm flung protectively over me.

I was used to Bette as a bed partner. Bridget was larger than Bette, but so were most women. The basic difference was that Bridget was softer. Her breast molded itself to my rib cage, where Bette's smaller and firmer breasts seemed more like soft tennis balls as they pressed into my side.

Bridget waited for a few moments, then her hand began creeping toward my groin. "Lots of luck," I muttered sleepily. "Let me know if you find something interesting."

"Oh, I will, Bucko. You can bet on that."

Her fingers closed over my soft member, and she began gently flexing her fist and rubbing the palm of her hand over it. It felt good.

I was just beginning to drift away, lulled by her hypnotic, repetitive stroking, when she slid her face down over my stomach. She sucked on my belly button, then moved further south. 

Her hand cupped my scrotum, while she took my flaccid member into her mouth and began teasing it with her tongue. Nothing happened. 

She stripped my foreskin back, then took me into her mouth again. The wet friction provided by her tongue, and the pressure exerted by the vacuum she created in her mouth, plus her gentle manipulation of my scrotum began to have the desired effect.

Much to my surprise and somewhat to my chagrin, my little friend began coming to life. I was sore, and frankly, the last thing I wanted was more sex. But I couldn't bring myself to say no. Not when Bridget was making such an effort.

She was rubbing it now with her hand while she continued to suck on its head. "I don't think it's going to work," I said.

She redoubled her efforts, and then she sat up and threw her leg over me. She began stuffing it into her slit as she crouched over me, her breasts dangling in my face.

My poor abused pecker bent almost double, but she managed to get it into her. Then she leaned forward, and slowly rocked back and forth, all the while flexing the muscles in her vagina, while the tips of her nipples teased and tickled the hair on my chest.

It was sexy, especially after she leaned down, fastening her mouth to mine, working her lips prying my mouth open so she could insert her tongue. 

My cock no longer ached; it just seemed grateful to be in such friendly company. In the meanwhile, Bridget's breathing began to accelerate, and instead of gently rocking back and forth, she began to bounce. Her heavy breasts swayed back and forth, then began bouncing wildly as her movements became more aban doned. For a brief moment, I wondered if she might injure herself and whether she ought to wear a jogging bra when assuming the woman superior position. 

Even though I was exhausted, and was sure this would be a dry run since Sam had all but turned me inside out, this was my night for surprises. She had to work for it, and it's well that she did, because my heart certainly wasn't in it; my sex drive was on auto-pilot, acting out of habit and chivalry rather than lust and desire.

The surprise came about fifteen minutes later. Bridget was showing no signs of tiring or even slowing down. I wasn't sure, but I think she had come once. Now, she was only cruising. She wasn't even breathing hard. My sore peg was buried in her as deeply as it would go, and I was beginning to wonder if we were destined to go through eternity coupled in the classic woman superior position, when the door opened.

Bette came into the room, and ignoring Bridget, lay down next to me and kissed me. "I love you, Jim," she said quietly. 

My cock fired. Bang. Just like that. Brigit felt it coming, and redoubled her energetic bouncing and rocking. Her breathing quickened, and as my poor, thin stream trickled into her, she threw herself forward, and hugged us tightly as she shuddered through three distinct orgasmic peaks.

She raised her head and looked at me. "I needed that," she said, "thanks."

I looked at her and Bette. "Can I go to sleep, now?" Not waiting for an answer, I went. Mine was the sleep, if not of the innocent, then of the exhausted. No dreams, nothing.

When I woke, I slid out of bed, careful not to disturb my companion, whoever she might be. I carefully closed the bathroom door, and raised the toilet seat. After a long, satisfying pee, I lowered the lid. Not for the first time, I reflected that this was but another example of the way mothers train male children to behave in ways that benefit only females. I should think that logically, since women use the toilet seat most, they ought to be trained to raise it when they are through.

I slid back under the covers and cuddled up to whoever was on the other side of the bed and promptly went back to sleep.

When I opened my eyes again, it was daylight. Two pairs of eyes welcomed me back. Bette and Bridget, still naked, arms entwined, sat on the foot of the bed.

"Hi," I said weakly, "you guys been here all night?"

Bridget stood up. "Just about," she said, "How do you like your coffee?" 

"Sugar, no cream," I said. 

She left, leaving the door open. I heard the low rumble of voices in the distance. "What time is it?"

Bette smiled. "Around noon, I think. I was beginning to wonder if you had died."

The full recollection of everything I had heard the night before came flooding back. "Bette," I said slowly, "what the hell is going on? Who are these people? What do they want with us?"

She put a warning finger to her lips as Bridget stepped in the door, two cups of coffee in her hands. "I hope I got the right amount of sugar," Bridget said. "This one is for you, Bette." She leaned down and kissed Bette on the mouth, then flicked her fingers over Bette's erect nipples. "I'm going to jump in the pool," she said, and left the room.

Bette moved closer. "I wanted to tell you on the way out here, Jim," she said, "but it was like trying to tell you about Susan. I guess I was afraid of how you might react." She smiled a wan little smile. "Not every man would be so forgiving when he finds his girl with a lesbian lover."

I nodded. "OK, so I'm broadminded. Now, what the hell's going on?"

"I don't know all the details," Bette said, "but as I understand it, Phil met Steve years ago in college. After Steve got into this business, he remembered Phil's claim to fame." She paused and sipped her coffee. "In case you're interested, it's 10½ inches long and it's as big around as your wrist when it's fully erected. God, it hurts!" She shuddered.

"Anyway," she went on, "Steve tried to get Phil interested in making a film. Well, you know Phil. He's self-conscious about that log he carries around in his pants. But he's also greedy. Steve convinced him that his pecker was his fortune. The only thing was, not many women could handle a cock that big. 

"At first, he tried to rope me in. I gave it a shot, but it hurt so bad during my screen test that I started to cry. Not exactly the image Steve wanted to project.

"Phil had to find another partner. He did. He found Louise. That's all I know." 

I was silent, trying to tie up the loose ends. "What about our chance meeting at the Ten-Thirty?" I asked.

"There wasn't any chance about it," Bette replied levelly. "I'm not sure how they knew we would be there; perhaps Louise told them you liked the place. A fresh $100 bill probably would have gotten them a phone call when you made reservations. I'm only guessing."

"And when you saw them?" I asked.

"At first, I thought it was coincidence. I didn't know them well, but I knew Steve's line of work, and it doesn't take a brain surgeon to realize that a swing club might be a good place to recruit actors for porno films."

"OK," I said. "But why did they involve me?"

Bette looked blank. "I don't know," she said.

I soon found out. That afternoon, Steve and I were stretched out on a pair of plastic chaise lounges sipping cool drinks, and admiring the naked ladies playing in and around the pool.

"I think Bette told you a little about this setup," Steve began.

I nodded. "Barb gave me a general rundown last night, and Bette filled some of the blanks this morning, but I still don't know why I seem to be involved."

"I need a partner," Steve said, "and you look to me like good partner material."

"No, thanks," I said. 

"At least you can hear me out," Steve said. 

I shrugged. "Suit yourself, but the answer is still 'no'."

"OK," Steve said, "but let me give you the grand tour, just so you can see what you're passing up."

Why not? I followed him down the path to the old barn. He held a surprisingly modern door open for me. "This is the studio," he said. 

I know nothing of the film business and even less about the equipment used in it, but I was impressed by a professional looking camera mounted on a traveling dolly, and the obviously heavy duty lighting system. I said as much. 

"Christ," Steve said, "give me a little credit. What did you expect? A leering hunchback carrying a camcorder?" I refrained from giving the obvious answer, especially since the set seemed to consist mainly of a large rumpled bed. He opened another door. "This is the lab and cutting room," he said. He gestured across the room. "Makeup and dressing rooms are over there."

He led the way back to the house. We walked inside and went into his office. "My books are wide open," he said. "This could be your office."

"Just out of morbid curiosity," I said, "Why are you hitting on me? What have I done to deserve this honor?"

He stared at me for a full minute. Then he said, "It's a number of things. You're a reasonably successful lawyer. But you're not so successful that you're out of our reach. That's a big plus. As near as Dunn and Bradstreet knows, you are solvent and your credit rating is good.

"More importantly, however, I think you share our interest in sexual freedom, a freedom some folks would like to control, if not stamp out. As I'm sure you must realize, there are millions like us. Unfortunately, even though we are clearly in the great majority, we were so conditioned as children to a flashlight-under-the-covers mentality in sexual matters, that we believe the power freaks -- the Puritans --among us."

He looked at me. "Whether we realize it or not, the Puritans have monopolized sex and made a religion out of it. That's why, when we raise the issue in public, we can only talk about it in euphemisms and whispers. As a nation, we are victims of a terrible, irrational sexual repression. That's why we have an AIDs epidemic and are swamped in teen pregnancies. Figure it out.

"I can't give millions of people the reality of sexual freedom," he continued, "but I can provide them with a harmless illusion; eighty to ninety minutes of dynamite fantasy. That's what I do, and I'll be honest with you. I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing."

"I'm almost afraid to ask, but what, exactly, do you see me doing? Becoming your next famous star? Running the casting couch department?"

He laughed. The son-of-a-bitch knew he had me. "If you want to," he said. "But I was thinking more along the lines of con tracts and script selection and keeping us on the right side of the ob scenity line -- I sure don't want to end up like poor Ralph Ginsburg did, going to prison because of something dumb like picking the wrong mailing address."

I nodded my sympathetic agreement. Back in the late '50s and early '60s, Mr. Ginsburg had been the publisher of an ill-fated magazine, Eros, a slick sex publication that was tame by today's standards. The Supreme Court, lacking a sense of humor, had viewed his whimsy in selecting Blue Balls, PA, for his return address as 'pandering' when it affirmed his lower court conviction. The case still scared me.

"But you don't have to take in a partner, just to get legal services, Steve."

"I know, Jim. But this business is growing like crazy, especially with the Internet services we're beginning to provide. Frankly, there's more going on than we can handle. Here's our deal: We'll give you a full 1/3 interest in Satin Studios. We're a Subchapter S corporation. You'll own a third of the corporate shares and have the same income from the business that we, as indi viduals, have. 

"However, because of the way the business is growing, we now have a serious cash flow problem. We're trying to keep as much money in the till as we can. Therefore, we would expect you to continue your law practice, perhaps on a reduced basis, eventually winding it up.

"You wouldn't be alone. Carol also has a little business on the side, which helps make ends meet.

"Tell you what. Why don't you give it some thought, maybe talk it over with Bette -- she knows us -- and give me a call some time next week. OK?"

God, he was sure of himself. Not a word about Louise, or how I could help her stay out of trouble. He was too smart for that. 

"In the meanwhile," he added, "we've got a whole pool full of pussy out there just waiting for us. As the old bull said to the young bull, let's walk down and fuck them all!"

We walked back out into the brilliant California sunshine. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust. I followed Steve back to the chairs we had left.

Carol saw us coming and walked toward us, carrying fresh drinks. Her beautifully sculpted breasts glistened with suntan oil in the bright light, and quivered as she moved. Her torso flowed into her legs, and the dark mystery of her delta just beneath her slightly rounded stomach suddenly caused my groin to throb. She looked inquiringly at Steve as she set the drinks down.

He grinned at his wife. "Jim doesn't know it yet," he said, "but I think we have ourselves a new partner."

Carol squealed and threw her arms around my neck, pressing her lips to mine, while giving me a touch of her tongue and a licentious bump of her pelvis against my awakening member. 

"That's wonderful," she said. "I want to celebrate."

"Not so fast," Steve warned. "You'll scare him off if you carry on like that! Try to act like a lady for once!"

Carol ignored him, and looked at me, her face serious for once. There was something in her eyes I couldn't read. "Are you really going to join us, Jim?"

I started to shake my head, but Steve answered for me. "He's thinking about it," he said. "Carol," he added, "please excuse us, now. We've got other things to talk about."

Carol smiled, winked at me, and walked away. 

It was very pleasant relaxing in the shade, watching the people cavort around the pool. I saw Corrine eyeing me from across the pool. She looked better naked than she had in the ridiculous gown she had worn the night before.

Her pendulous breasts drooped, and her stomach could have been tighter, but the net effect was extremely erotic. She reminded me of Grace, whom I had met the previous weekend at the Ten/Thirty. I wondered, briefly, if Grace and her nearsighted husband had gone back to give swinging another try.

Lucy, the incestuous twin, and Blair, the incestuous son, were playing an energetic game of adolescent catch-me, push-you. I nearly cautioned them against running around the pool, then remembered where I was, and wisely kept my mouth shut.

Carol and Barb Adams disappeared into the house, and soon Steve followed them, only to reappear incongruously dressed in a chef's hat.

"I'm going to light the barbecue," he said loudly. "Be thinking how you'd like your steaks."

Soon the air was filled with the delicious aroma of charring meat. The shadows were beginning to reach across the yard, and people began drifting into the house in search of shirts and jackets. I was about to get up when Corrine suddenly appeared.

"Is this seat taken?" she asked as she sat on the chaise, her bare hip accidentally brushing against my thigh. It was a replay of my experience with Sophia. An innocent skin contact, and my cock hardened. It nudged Corrine in the leg. 

"My goodness," she said, turning, "did I do that? Let me see." She leaned over conspiratorially, "If you'll smuggle that into the house, I can probably fix it for you."

Feeling an absolute fool, I let her run interference for me. We hurried to the nearest bedroom. 

She sprawled on the bed, her legs at a wide, inviting angle. "I'm ready, darling. Shove that thing into me."

I mounted her, rooting briefly with my nose and tongue in her well-worn groove, then I drove myself completely into her with my first thrust. I scarcely raised a sweat, but Corrine's womanhood was wonderfully warm and moist, and the sensation of rippling, squeezing movement in her vagina was too much for me. In an embarrassingly short time, I squirted a stream of semen into her womb.

In less than five minutes, portal to portal, we were strolling hand in hand back out to the patio. As she told me later, the only giveaway, and you had to look closely to see it, was a rivulet of semen running down the inside of her thigh. She thought it would be too obvious if she stopped to wipe it away. 

I went over to watch Steve burn our dinner. 

He grinned at me. "I saw you with Corrine. She hasn't lost it, has she?"

I shook my head. 

"That cunt of hers is why we're having to get her out of the business. No matter how many times we've warned her, she insists on milking her leading men on camera. That's not the basic idea. You want to get as much action on film as you can before the cum shot. She thinks she's adding realism, but with her, it's 'wham- bam, thank you sir', and my actors are raising hell with me."

"I see what you mean." I pointed to a steak that was begin ning to show bubbling juice on its charred surface. "Is that one spoken for?"

"You got it," he said. "The plates and silver are over there on the table. There's some salad over there, too. Help yourself. Then bring the plate back here."

I did as he suggested, and moments later I was seated on the lounge, happily wolfing down a wonderfully seasoned steak. Bette sat next to me, holding a plate like mine on her bare lap. She wore a sweater over her shoulders. "How's it going?" she asked as she began to chew on a piece of meat.




Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 06



"I've been propositioned," I said, cutting my steak.

"So I hear. What do you think?"

"I don't know. I'm to call him next week."

"I know this isn't the time or place . . " she said.

"But?"

"I don't know," she said, her face thoughtful. "I just think that maybe it wouldn't hurt to give it a try."

I chewed thoughtfully, then I said, "Here's one problem you haven't thought about. If I got in too deep, I could get disbarred. I've got to think of things like that."

"OK," she said cheerfully, as she licked her fork clean, "let's go find somebody to screw." 



Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 07



Chapter 7: In For a Penny

Our second night at the studio was much like the first, except that nobody had to disrobe since none of us had dressed. We gathered again in the room furnished with tumbling mats and soft furniture, and watched another tableau. I suppose it was a variation on an old theme -- the family that plays together stays together. In this case, the family consisted of mother and son. 

Blair led his mother out on the stage and showed the audience how rewarding it could be for mothers who raised their sons properly. Unlike the audience, both mother and son were clothed when they stepped on the stage, and I must say, after a day of recreational nudity, a skirt and a pair of pants looked almost erotic. They sat on the cot, embraced, and were soon locked in a passionate love kiss. Blair began unbuttoning his mother's blouse. 

The audience watched raptly. It wasn't so much what the actors were doing that claimed our attention; it was the people who were doing it. It isn't every day you get to watch a boy have sex with his mother. 

He soon had her blouse unbuttoned, and reaching inside, played with her soft breasts while he kissed her mouth, her ears, the hollow in her neck. She pretended innocence, and made a great show of attempting to push him away. This, of course, only excited him, and in the mock tussle, her blouse was discarded. Her flimsy bra soon followed it. 

Her billowy, matronly breasts quivered. He sucked on the nearest breast, while he pinched and mauled her other nipple. I thought he was a bit rough, but I realized that he probably knew better than anyone what mom really liked.

She quickly became genuinely excited, and her mock efforts to save her chastity ended. Instead, she began groping the front of his pants, and eventually, succeeded in undoing his belt and opening his fly. 

Her hands disappeared inside his pants as he lifted her skirt above her knees, further up her thighs to where her stockings ended, and eventually, to her waist. She was wearing garters and hose, but no panties.

He continued chewing on her nipple, while his left hand slid into the juncture between her thighs. She opened her legs for his probing fingers. Then she said something to him.

Obediently, he stood up and pulled his polo shirt off over his head, while she let his pants fall around his ankles and lovingly released his erection by tenderly lifting his brief's waistband up and over his young cock. He was stiff as a post. His young sword stuck up at an impressive 45 degree angle. You could have hung a flag on it. 

The audience let out a collective sigh. Every man there, including me, envied that boy his juvenile tumescence. I can only guess what the women were thinking, but the audience seemed suddenly very restless, with much leg crossing and shifting about.

Mama never missed a beat. She took him in her mouth, but only for a minute. Then she stood and stepped out of her skirt. She lay down on the cot on her back, her legs toward the audience. The boy knew exactly what to do. He wedged himself between those maternal thighs and shoved himself deep into his mother on the first stroke. 

Jane reached up and caught the backs of her knees in her hands and pulled herself open even wider. I think everyone in the audience who saw that young tool sliding in and out of his own mother's cunt was stirred by Jane's exhortations. "Go, boy! Faster! Harder! You know how I like it!"

By the time Jane announced her first orgasm of the night, half the audience was fondling someone else; the other half was fondling themselves. I was lucky. Barb Adam was within reach.

As I watched the action on the stage, out of the corner of my eye, I had noticed her crawling on hands and knees from the back of the room toward the stage. She paused next to me. I was engrossed by the action on the stage, but a blur of motion caught my eye. Her legs were open, and her fingers were dancing openly around her clit and plunging into her cunt. 

I slid toward her, and started to ask if I could help, when I saw the look of intense concentration on her flushed face, and realized she was doing just fine all by herself. I hadn't often seen a woman masturbate, and the action on the stage was forgotten as I watched Barb finger herself to a rousing orgasm.

She uttered a soft, whimpering cry. Her stomach muscles rippled, and her toes pointed straight down. Gradually, she relaxed against a bean bag. Her eyes were closed, and the orgasmic flush slowly faded from her face, neck and chest. 

I was struck again by her unusually shaped conical breasts. They looked as if they were made for those metal bras female opera stars seem to favor. Suddenly I wanted very much to take one in my mouth.

"Knock, knock," I said softly, "anyone home?"

Barb opened an eye. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Not now," I replied. "I didn't interrupt you before."

"Yeh, thanks. What do you want?"

"Well, nothing, really. I was just feeling lonely."

"I'm sorry," she said, instantly contrite, "especially since you're sort of a new boss . . ."

"I'm not sure about that." I said. Then, remembering our conversation the night before, I quickly added, "and even if I were, it wouldn't make any difference."

She stared at me for a few moments, her face expressionless; her black eyes digging deep inside. "No, I guess it wouldn't," she said. "Come here, give a girl a kiss."

I hunched my way over to her and gathered her in my arms. Her pointed little breasts dug into my chest as I lightly fastened my mouth on hers, and began nibbling and sucking her lips. She nibbled and sucked right back, and the next thing I knew, we were stretched full length on a tumbling mat. Her head rested on my left arm. My right hand gently plucked at her soft nipples. Then I began teasing them by lightly touching the palm of my hand to their tips.

"That tickles. Stop it." 

"OK," I said, as I sucked almost an entire breast into my mouth. I don't know what that may have felt like, but I didn't get any more complaints. Instead, I felt her hand exploring my crotch.

"Oh," she said, "this feels interesting." 

"Ummm, ummm," was the best I could manage.

"Do that again," she said. 

"Ummm?"

"Like that. Make that sound again. You can't imagine how that vibration feels in my nipple."

"Ummm, ummmm, ummm. Ummm umm?" 

"God," she said, "it makes my whole tit tingle like it's getting tiny electric shocks."

"Ummmm umm ummmmm."

I patted her hand, encouraging her not to forget what she had been doing before I started playing her breast like a musical instrument. She took the hint, and began rubbing, pulling, explor ing, with increased vigor. 

"Hey," she exclaimed, "what's this?" She tugged on my foreskin with her thumb and forefinger. "The last time I saw one of these was on my baby boy. The mohel made quick work of it!" She looked at me. "That's what you need; a mohel who does emergency circumcisions!" 

"No thanks," I said, "but tell me: Are you afraid of cocks that aren't kosher?"

"Are you ever serious?"

"Well, sort of. I don't know."

"Then the serious answer is `no'." She paused, lifting my foreskin with her thumb and forefinger. "Any Jewish girl would be interested in one of these because we see so few of them after they have grown up."

By this time, I had a full erection. She pulled my foreskin all the way back. "Now you look like a nice Jewish boy," she said. "I'm going to give it a kiss, just for that."

She bent forward, her black hair falling like a veil around her face. I felt rather than saw her take me into her warm, loving mouth. I lay back and closed my eyes, letting the waves of sensation centered in my groin ripple through my body.

"Hey, don't go to sleep on me again!"

I opened my eyes. Bridget was standing over me, her labia winking through the thin covering of reddish down that protected her mons. She looked good enough to eat.

I stuck my tongue out. "Come here, and sit on this," I said. "I'll show you who's asleep."

Her soft thighs instantly bracketed my head, and her mysterious slit was poised just above my mouth. I touched it with the tip of my tongue. She jerked. "I've been sensitized," she wailed. "Take it easy!"

This time, I pulled her back a couple of inches. Then, I carefully inserted the tip of my tongue at the top of her vagina and touched her clit. This time, she really jumped. 

She stood. "I'm sorry, bucko," she said. "I really am too sensitive. Guess I'd better have a drink."

She struggled to her feet and wandered off toward the kitchen.

While I was talking to Bridget, someone else had begun stroking Barb's tight little bottom. Damn! That was what I had been working up to. 

"Barb, swing around and sit on my face," I said.

Never missing a stroke, she abandoned her latest suitor, and in a moment was all but resting her neat little delta on my chin. I began exploring the folds and hollows of her womanhood with my tongue. She responded by mashing her pelvis hard against my face. This girl wanted no teasing; she was serious. I thrust my tongue as deep into her as I could, and she began revolving around it. Then she slid back so my tongue was resting on her clit. I took her clit between my lips and began to suck on it. 

Suddenly, she dropped me, and bracing herself on her arms, sagged forward and began to quiver and gasp. I lay under her in wonder as she trembled and shook. Then she quickly scooted herself ahead so she was able to impale herself on my manhood while she was still fluttering.

It felt as if I had stuck my cock into a live electrical socket. I exploded just as suddenly, and as strongly as she. She fell forward and gripped my lower legs tightly until her trembling subsided.

Like battlefield survivors, we helped each other to our feet, and arms around each other, we staggered into the kitchen for refresh- ments. I looked neither to the right nor to the left, although I knew we were in the middle of an orgy that would have cost Steve a million dollars to duplicate for his cameras.

I mixed a pair of drinks and handed the bourbon and water to Barb. "God," I said.

"My sentiment exactly," she said.

"How long is this going to continue?" I asked.

"It's just about over," she said. "A few die-hards will hang on until tomorrow afternoon, but most people will clear out in the morning. I know we will. We've got to reclaim our boy."

We were both quiet for a time. Then Barb sighed, and looked at her wrist. "It's a little hard to tell the time without a watch, but I better see if I can find George. If he's still awake, I'd better get him to bed, so he can drive in the morning."

She put her arms around my neck and standing on her tiptoes, pulled my head down for a last, sweet kiss. "It's been fun," she whispered. "I'm really glad we met." She turned and disappeared into the jungle.

Her parting comment started a line of thinking I wasn't sure I wanted to pursue. Nevertheless, I sat in a chair conveniently near the bar, sipping a drink while I seriously began to consider Steve's offer. Assuming he had told the truth, and barring unpleasant surprises in his books, I realized it was generous and had exciting potential, especially when I added in the potential offered by the Internet market.

But why kid myself? I knew I was interested in Steve's proposition mainly because of the hedonistic excitement it promised. Yet I couldn't ignore the considerable risk involved. If things went wrong, I could easily face disbarment. Dull as it was, estate planning and probate work had much to recommend it over the uncertain life of a pornographer. I knew I was leading dangerously with my chin, but Bette was right. If I said `no', I would always regret not trying. If I turned this down, I'd be drafting wills and interpreting testamentary intent for the rest of my life.

My mind made up, I went in search of Steve. I didn't have far to go. He was in the kitchen mixing a drink for Jane Harper. Steve saw me, and raised his eyebrows inquiringly. 

"OK," I said, spreading my hands, "count me in."

A huge grin split his face. "I knew it," he cried. "Welcome, partner! My instincts were right all along!"

Jane Harper looked intently at me, seeing me for the first time when she heard the word "partner." Steve seized my hand. "Let me find Carol," he said. "She'll be delighted!"

Steve rushed into the other room. I looked at Jane. "Where's Blair?" I asked.

"Oh, he wanted to try some young stuff," she said. "I'm not sure who she is. Maybe it was your, er, Babs, is it?"

"Bette," I said. 

"You're in with Steve?"

"I guess so," I said.

"Well, in that case, I wonder if we could get together some afternoon while Blair is at school. I have a video in mind that could make us a lot of money."

"You'd better talk to Steve about that," I said. "That's his department."

"Well, give me a call, anyway. I'm in the phone book."

"I will if I can, but I can't promise anything."

"I understand," she said, and she followed Steve into the rumpus room.

"There you are!"

I turned around. Steve was behind me, coming in from outside, Carol close behind. "I had to drag her from under some guy," Steve grinned, "but I wanted her to hear you say it."

Feeling silly, I repeated what I had said to Steve.

"Oh, Jim," she said, throwing her body against me, and wrapping her arms around my neck, "I'm so glad! You won't be sorry; I can promise you that!" She wriggled like a puppy. "God, it feels almost like I'm coming again!" 

I felt warmth against my thigh. She backed away and pointed to a little puddle on the linoleum. "Look at that. I'm so excited, I just wet my pants! Was that your first golden shower, Jim?"

I saw a glistening drop in her bush, and my leg now felt wet. By God, she had pissed on me! 

Carol went to the bar and handed me a paper towel so I could wipe myself off, poured herself a stiff drink and leaned back against the sink, staring at me with speculative eyes. 

"I'm the corporation secretary," she said. "Let's go in the office and take care of the details."

I followed Carol through the house, admiring the way her naked hips tilted as she walked.

She closed the door to the office behind me, and invited me to take a seat. She sat behind the desk.

There is something wickedly erotic about a woman wearing nothing but horn-rimmed reading glasses, sitting behind a desk thumbing through a file folder. I felt myself beginning to respond, but she interrupted me.

"Here are the articles of incorporation," she said, "and our stock register." She handed the folder to me.

I quickly examined the documents, and discovered that of the 100,000 shares of authorized common stock (par value 1¢), 50,000 shares were held in joint tenancy by Carol and Steve. Twenty thousand shares were held by people whose names I didn't recognize, and the remaining 30,000 shares being retained as treasury stock.

"We're having a board meeting next week," Carol said. "I'll get the board to authorize the issuance of 25,000 shares to you."

"Now, it's your turn," she said.

"My turn?" I asked politely.

"Steve probably won't want you to hear this so soon, but I think you should know right from the git-go that we have a sort of sexual Ponzi game going, only the way we play the game, there's nothing illegal about it. Just good clean fun between consenting adults. I'm talking about the endless sexual excitement and variety that drives the system on both ends of the camera." 

She paused, then continued, "We're little fish in a very big puddle. The big boys have developed a star system based on a handful of well known actors and actresses. We can't compete on that basis, so we emphasize new faces, new bodies -- in other words, variety."

"In other words, we need a constant stream of new talent to keep our backers happy. We need people like you and Bette to recruit them." She smiled. "Think of it as the sexual equivelant to the Amway program." 

For the first time, I was beginning to have serious second thoughts about my impulsive decision and my new business partners. "What exactly will we be expected to do?"

"First, you must know some attractive swingers who would enjoy our parties; see if you can't find a couple who'd like to attend." It wasn't a question.

Bette came into the office at that moment. "Oh, there you are," she cried when she saw me. She threw her arms around my neck nuzzling her warm, upper torso against my chest.

"I'm pooped; I've got to find a place to lay these weary bones," I said.

Bette was suddenly solicitous. "Here, let me tuck you in," she said. "Carol, where's there an empty bed?"

"Just look down the hall, honey. You'll find one."

Bette and I started down the hall, quietly opening one door after the other until we came to room with an empty bed. Bette turned it down. I gratefully stretched out, while she went into the bathroom. When she came out, she left the night light on. 

"I'll come to bed in a little while," Bette said, as she pulled the sheet up. "I sort promised someone I would be back after I went to the kitchen. You don't have a problem with that, do you?" 

Although the words were gently spoken, I knew this was a huge turning point in our relationship. Bette was announcing her indepen- dence.

"Sure, that's OK with me," I said. "I just want to sleep. Have fun."

I rolled over and closed my eyes.

Bette and I left the studio shortly after breakfast the next morning. As she had said she would, she had returned to our room, but it was 8:00 in the morning before she showed up. I had already showered and gulped two cups of coffee.

I saw shadows under her eyes. She looked tired. "Have a good time?" I asked casually.

"Feeling a pang this morning, are we?" she said sharply.

"Not really," I said. "It's just that . . ."

She interrupted me. "It's just `who has Bette been fucking all night?' Right?" she asked harshly.

I was surprised. I would have expected that reaction from Louise, but not Bette. "Well, if you want to put it that way," I said.

Her mood abruptly changed. "I'm sorry," she said. "You didn't deserve that. I guess I'm just tired and cranky. Forgive me?"

I ignored her proffered olive branch.

"OK," she said with a sigh, "if you must know, I was in a threesome with Alex Sofer and George McLaran. I didn't want to tell you because you and George got off on the wrong foot, and I thought it might upset you."

"I was just curious, Bette. I do think George is a bum, but what the hell? To each his own."

"He may be a bum to you," Bette said, "but he's a damn good lover as far as I'm concerned." 

"Fair enough," I said. "Now, when do you think we ought to go home?"

"Soon as I shower and get dressed," she said. "Can we have a bite to eat before we leave? I'm famished."

"Sure," I said.

Neither of our hosts was on deck as I rummaged around in the kitchen making a large omelet while Bette showered. Then I found our overnight bag with its undisturbed contents where we had left it when we arrived, and I laid out clean clothes. 

Only a handful of scattered cars remained in the yard when we retrieved the Buick and headed home. Bette was very quiet. "What's on your mind?" I asked over the soft tones coming from the CD player.

"Oh, I was just thinking how different our lives are going to be," she said. "In a way, it's exciting, but in another way it's scary as hell."

"Amen to that," I said piously. "What did you think of Carol wanting us to recruit another couple?"

"Well, as long as nobody gets hurt, and we don't get involved in anything illegal; frankly, I don't see anything wrong with it. Does it trouble you?"

Trust a woman to get to the heart of the matter. I nodded silently.

"Why?"

"Doesn't it seem unethical to use people who trust us for personal gain?"




Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 07



Bette laughed. "For a lawyer, you're something else," she said, shaking her head. "How do you think insurance salesmen get their referrals? Or doctors get new patients? Or car salesmen get new customers? It's a dog eat dog world out there, my friend."

I still wasn't convinced. "But doesn't it seem wrong to use people that way?"

Bette stopped smiling and turned to face me. I glanced at her, then back to the road. "We were just at such a party. We were used; we didn't know what was going on when I fucked the money man, and you fucked his wife. Do you feel used? I don't."

"OK," I said. "You've convinced me. I know that sometimes I get a little too squeamish for my own good. But I can see that you're probably right." Then another thought struck me. "Did you say 'money man'?"

Bette laughed. "Sometimes I wonder about you," she said. "You didn't really think Tod Benson with his big gut and tiny weenie was a porn star, did you?"

"I never gave it a thought."

"Now that's settled," Bette said briskly, "do you have a couple in mind who might enjoy our new business?"

"Why don't you give Sandy a call? Maybe invite them over for a party?"

"Do you think Jeff's all right?"

"I don't know; ask Sandy."

We lapsed into a companionable silence for the remainder of the drive home, but as soon as I set our bag down in the bedroom, I grabbed Bette and began pulling her clothes off. 

"I'll take care of me," she said, backing away. "Take your shoes off before you get on the bed!"

I kicked my loafers off, stripped my pants down and pulled my polo shirt over my head just in time to see Bette's shorts drop to the floor. 

I grabbed her again. "Is that enough foreplay?" I asked, as I squirmed between her bent legs, rock-hard member at the ready.

Her face was already flushed. "I'm ready," she said. She guided me into her body. As soon as I felt her tiny lips part, I rammed myself deep into her. 

I knew she had been filled with several cocks much bigger than mine the previous two nights, and I marvelled again at nature's ingenuity. No matter how hard or often you used and abused it, you could never wear a cunt out. She felt as tight then as she had the first time we had sex.

I felt the gathering storm in my loins, and thrust into her even harder. Suddenly the dam broke, and I flooded her womb with my semen. 

She kicked me with her heel. "Keep going, damn you! I'm almost there!"

I resumed my frantic motions, but all too suddenly, my manhood softened, and it fell out. I quickly rolled over and thrust my fingers into her. 

Her swollen tissues felt like balloons filled with hot water. I now had three fingers in her and I redoubled my efforts, while she played with her clit.

"Ahhhhhh, AHHHHHHHH! There," she breathed, as I felt her warm fluids flow over my hand. 

"God, I needed that," she said gratefully. "Now let me get some rest."

I kissed the bridge of her nose and stood up. She was already snoring softly when I reached the door.

Steve called me at the office on Wednesday. "Are you still with us?" he asked.

Bette's logic on the drive home had convinced me. "Sure," I said. "What's up?"

"Could you make a meeting here Friday morning?"

I looked at my calendar. "I can leave here around 9:30," I said. "I should get down there by 11:30. Would that be all right?"

"I can see this might become awkward," Steve said. "Yeh, 11:30 will be fine. When do you have to be back?"

"I have a probate hearing scheduled at 4:00," I said. "But I'll have a couple of hours. Will that be enough?"

"Sure," Steve said. "See you on Friday."

Bette had called Sandy on Monday. Sandy had tentatively accepted Bette's invitation, "But I'll have to see how Jeff feels; you understand how that is."

Sandy called back Wednesday evening. Bette answered the phone, and I heard her say, as she was hanging up, "OK, I'm looking forward to it, too."

"I take it she said `yes'?" I asked.

"She said Jeff's pawing the ground. I guess you cured him. They'll be here at 7:00 Saturday night."

Friday evening, I sat in my favorite chair nursing my first drink of the evening, reliving the afternoon's events. I wondered why Steve had felt it necessary for me to attend that meeting. Five of us had been seated around the table in Steve's office. Steve, Carol and I sat facing the two men from New York.

They were both well dressed, soft spoken, and deadly serious. The older one, a gaunt man named Carmine, was nearly bald, wore a perpetually mournful expression, and spoke with an odd accent. He did most of the talking about rights, distribution, payments, and so forth. 

Most of the conversation was in terms I didn't fully understand, but I soon realized that he was a principal. The other, younger man, Richard, represented someone else. Naturally, I wondered who that unnamed someone was and shuddered inwardly at my suspicions. I don't mean to give the wrong impression. I had no reason to believe these men were criminals. There was no overt unpleasantness; there was just an uncomfortable tension in the room, as if demonic forces lurked in the corners.

I spoke when spoken to and merely offered a scrap of legal commentary when it was requested. I finally concluded that Steve had simply wanted them to know that his partner was a lawyer.

I thought about Carmine and Richard all the way back to town, trying first one scenario, then another. But no matter how I looked at it, it all came down to the same thing. Up to now, I had been thinking mostly about my virtue. Now I was worried about my health.

The following evening, while I cleaned up the kitchen after dinner, Bette went into the bedroom to get ready for our first swing with the Morrisons. Then she came into the kitchen to show me the dress she had selected. It was a black wraparound cocktail dress that was half rayon, half black netting. The netting spiraled diagonally across her body, beginning at her right hip and ending on her left shoulder. The dress designer had obviously intended it to be worn over a matching bra . . . only Bette wasn't wearing one. 

She saw my admiring gaze and smiled. "I don't have any panties on, either," she said conspiratorially. "But I do have this," she whirled, and the dress flew above her stocking tops. 

I whistled. "I have no doubt you'll help him decide which side of the plate he really swings from." I said as I followed her into the front room.

The doorbell rang. Bette sat on the couch while I answered the door. Not surprisingly, it was Sandy and Jeff. Sandy, like Bette, obviously had given serious thought to her costume. She wore an off the shoulder peasant blouse with a scoop bodice, a leather skirt which barely reached below the curve of her buttocks, and three inch heels which emphasized her long, slender legs. Jeff, like me, was dressed more for comfort than for style. He wore his usual sport jacket and slacks. 

"Come in, come in," I said, kissing Sandy and shaking hands with Jeff. I ushered them into the living room and waited while Sandy sat in the big overstuffed chair where she and I had first gotten acquainted, forcing Jeff to sit next to Bette.

"What can I get you?"

They placed their orders, and I went into the kitchen to fix their drinks.



Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 08



Synopsis: Jim's having second thoughts about his impulsive agreeing to become a partner in Satin Studios, mainly because of two strangers, men with many gangster characteristics who had attended Jim's first board meeting. 

Carol gave him his first assignment. He (and Bette) were to recruit another attractive couple to join the Satin Studio swing parties. They have invited Sandra and Jeff to dinner.

*****

After returning with the drinks -- wine for Sandy, a liqueur for Jeff, and highballs for Bette and me -- I pulled a footstool next to Sandy's chair. We held hands, enjoying our closeness, while Jeff and Bette became reacquainted. It looked as if my treatment had worked, because Jeff was looking at Bette as if he had never before seen a female of the species. She, on the other hand, probably remembering my account of his foray into bisexuality, seemed determined to convert him forever to the ranks of devoted heterosexuals. It was almost funny.

She gave him the full treatment, guided by the same instinct that had prodded Louise. I smiled, thinking how things had come a full circle. Still, it was exciting to watch her skirt "accidentally" fall open to reveal a narrow strip of white skin above the stocking top on her left thigh. Jeff couldn't seem to make up his mind whether to watch her skirt or her beautifully tempting breasts so openly revealed under her dress.

I chatted with Sandy. She looked good. Except for her brief miniskirt, she was dressed more modestly than Bette, and I wondered if she were wearing panties. Her face was innocent of makeup except for a touch of lipstick. She lacked the lush sexuality that Bette projected, but her beautiful silvery blonde hair perfectly framed her lovely face. I never tired of watching her classic beauty.

We told the Morrisons about our weekend at Satin Studios, deliberately omitting, by unspoken agreement, any mention of Louise and Phil's new careers as movie stars. Sandy's eyes never left my face as we described the studio and my role in it.

I wasn't surprised by Jeff's reaction. Although he seemed mesmerized by Bette's tiny figure, he asked, "You mean in a group scene, anything goes?"

I nodded. "Just about," I said. I told them about the orgy and a rampant cock that had seemed determined to pillage my mouth while Corrine was conferring the same favor on me. I'm not proud of it, but it showed my state of mind when I mentioned that incident as a cynical attempt to appeal to Jeff's latent interest in bisexuality.

Frankly, I was afraid that if we were entirely candid, Jeff's conservative streak might cause him to balk. However, I also felt that if we were once able to persuade them to sample the sexual smorgasbord we had enjoyed over the weekend, it would be safe to lay our cards on the table.

We extended Steve and Carol's invitation. "I don't know," Sandy said, "what about the baby?"

Jeff said, "What about my mother?"

Sandy looked doubtfully at Jeff. "Do you think it would be fair to ask her again, so soon?"

Jeff laughed. His eyes now fixed on Bette's spectacular bosom, he said, "Jeffie is her only grandson. She loves to look after him."

"Well, we could try it, I guess," Sandy said doubtfully.

Bette spoke up. "Why don't you freshen our drinks, Jim. I'm going to put on a CD."

When I came back into the living room with a tray of drinks, the lights had been dimmed. Bette and Jeff were slow dancing to Blue Moon while Sandy stood in the doorway watching.

When I appeared, she invitingly held open her arms. I put the tray down and gathering her to me, kissed her properly, and began to sway in time with the music. 

"It's good to see you again," I whispered. 

She answered by squirming against me. We moved slowly in time to the music. "Doesn't this remind you of something?" she murmured into my neck.

"Sure does. Look over my shoulder when we turn."

I slowly turned so my back was to Bette and Jeff. I felt Sandy stiffen. "My God!"

I swung back to take another look myself. Jeff, was a husky young fellow. He had to be. Bette, her dress bunched up around her waist, was riding him, her arms around his neck, her slender ankles locked securely behind his back.

I couldn't be sure in the dim light, but it looked as if they had discovered a new coital position. 

I felt a familiar stirring in the front of my pants. "I've danced enough," I said, "how about you?"

"Dancing is very tiring," Sandy said dryly, "I need to lie down."    I was instantly reminded of a joke which I repeated to her. "Do you know why Ashcroft is so opposed to vertical sex?"    "No. Why?"    "It might lead to dancing."

I led Sandy into the bedroom. Once inside, I turned on the bedside lamp, and began to slip out of my clothes. As always, Sandy was magnificent as she crossed her hands on the hem of her blouse and lifted it over her head. That typically feminine movement never fails to arouse me.

She stepped out of her skirt, and slipped her panties down her long, slender legs. I stood by the bed waiting. She came into my arms, and we held each other tightly for a moment, her pointed little breasts drilling into my chest, my turgescent cock returning the compliment to her silken belly.

"This feels so good, so right," she murmured. We kissed again, this time passionately. She worked her mouth against mine, and I felt the tip of her tongue work its way between my lips. 

"I've missed you, Jim," she said. 

"And I, you," I said. "Let's do this more often."

She wiggled her belly against me as an answer. I backed up a step and, still holding her tight, fell backwards on the bed, taking her with me. At that moment, I was very much in love with her. 

We reveled in the smooth, warm, sliding feeling of our mutual embrace. "I never want to let go," I said, breathing deeply of her exotic chemistry.

"Neither do I," she said, "but you're going to have to if you want to put that thing where it belongs."

Women are very practical about such matters. I rolled us over, and kissed her again.

With Sandy, I always wanted to make love, while, with most women, even with Bette much of the time, I wanted only sex. There's a hell of a difference. 

I caressed her as carefully and as lovingly as I had on our first night, many months ago. I approached her womanhood reverently, and gently slid my wet tongue up and down her crease until she impatiently pulled my face up tight against her body.

"I'm ready, Jim. Are you just stalling?"

"I'll show you who's stalling," I said as I reared between her spread legs, my sword aimed for the center of her triangle. I held it in my right hand and rubbed it up and down her slit, which slowly opened to me like an unfolding flower.

"Easy does it," she warned me, as I began working myself into her.

Suddenly she exploded! Her back arched, her eyes rolled back and she began to shake. "Ohhhhhhhh, my GOD!" she whispered.

I clung to her, trying to smother her tremors with my body. Gradually, her quivering slowed, then stopped. She managed a weak grin. 

"God, for a minute, you scared me there," I said, enormously relieved that she was all right.

"It scared me, too," she said. "I've never come like that before in my life. I thought I was dying."

We lay together like that. I remained deeply imbedded in her, while I stroked her hair, and marveled at the lovely curve of her cheek. 

She grinned at me. "Feel that?" she asked. She was using her vaginal muscles to milk me.

"Where the hell did you learn to do that?" I asked.

"I read an article about it in Cosmo," she said. 

I thought the evening was over, but she wasn't ready to give up. I had softened considerably, but now, with the stimulation I was getting, I had a new lease on life. I began to move gently inside her.

She closed her eyes. "Ummmmmm, that's nice." 

My member thought so too. I began moving faster. 

Sandy raised her legs to give me a better angle. My manhood suddenly took charge, and I began plunging into her with all my strength.

I was supporting my upper body on my hands, watching my cock appear and disappear. Sandy took her legs off my shoulders. 

"Hold me tight, Jim," she said breathlessly through clenched teeth, locking her arms and legs tightly around my body. Then she began to heave and roll, shiver and shake. I felt ripple after ripple pass through her body. Those spasms seemingly continued for five minutes or more. I had stopped moving, and hugged her trembling body tightly against mine. 

She relaxed her grip on me and took a deep shuddery breath. "God, I'm pooped," she said. "I'm finished."

Then she looked at me in sudden concern. "But you didn't come, did you?" She paused, then continued, "I'm sorry, Jim. I just can't screw any more tonight. I could suck you off, though. Would you like that?"

Does a bear shit in the woods?

Then I looked at her again, and I remembered how exciting it had been for me to watch Barb masturbate. "How would you like to just watch me play with myself?" I asked. "You could even help if you wanted to."

She propped herself up on an elbow. "Do you do that often?" she asked, as I began rubbing my foreskin back and forth over the head of my rock-like penis.  

"It depends on how I happen to be feeling at the moment," I said. 

She intently watched my hand massage my cock. "Does your hand feel like a vagina?" 

"There is no such thing as `a woman's vagina'," I replied. "All women are different. No woman ever reminded me of another. Kiss me."

I was lying on my back. She rubbed her breasts against my stomach and sucked my nipple into her mouth. Ah, she remembered.

When she carefully ran her hand under my member and cupped my scrotum. "That feels good," I said. I closed my eyes. My hand was moving faster now, and my tumescence was growing. Suddenly I felt her warm, wet mouth and lips stretch over it. 

"Um, that tastes good." She had tasted my precome.

"I want you to come in my mouth. Will you?"

I didn't answer. The pressures were building in my loins. She realized I was getting close, and again I felt her mouth engulf my glans. Her tongue touched that wonderfully tender spot at the base of the head, and suddenly, I erupted. 

I'm sure I would have spattered semen on the walls had she not taken what seemed like a cupful of my seed in her mouth.

I watched her swallow. "Will this give me pimples or make my hair fall out?" she asked, as she continued swallowing.

"I've got to go get a drink of water," she said, and she ran into the bathroom. 

I half expected to hear her retching in the toilet. Instead, I heard the sink faucet turn on, and the musical clink as she set the glass down. She came back into the bedroom, a shy smile on her face.

"I really liked that, Jim. I liked the excitement of making you come and I even liked the taste -- it's sort of like swallowing snot at first -- but after I realized I was swallowing several million little Jims, it went down pretty easily. I'm going to have to practice this!"

I watched her in amazement. Who could have guessed she was a natural swinger? Or that she would become a fellatrix who begged me to come in her mouth. What will she do next? That question, as things turned out, was extraordinarily prescient.

I gave her a mighty squeeze and said, "Let's see how Jeff and Bette are making out."

We walked into the darkened hallway. I heard Bette moaning in the living room. She and Jeff were locked together on the rug. Bette was on her knees, face down on a pillow from the couch. Her butt, still framed by her garter belt, in the air. Jeff had mounted her and was fucking her, dog fashion. It seemed as if they still had a way to go, so Sandy and I went into the kitchen and I mixed a couple of drinks. "This will get the taste out of your mouth," I said.

"But I don't want the taste out of my mouth," she said. "I like the taste of the stuff. Do all men taste the same?"

I shrugged. We took our drinks back into the living room and sat cuddled up on the couch, watching Jeff and Bette. Jeff apparently had come while we were in the kitchen, because he was slowing down. Bette, on the other hand, was slamming her quivering butt back against him with increasing enthusiasm, as if she could supply what he was losing. 

She pushed back too strenuously, pushing him off balance, and they fell in a pile on the floor. Jeff almost immediately went into the bathroom.

Bette was lying on her back, her eyes closed, her fingers buried in her mysterious delta. Sandy licked her lips, and slid down on the floor next to her. "Hey, let me do that," she said.

Bette obligingly took her hand away and opened her legs, as Sandy said, "I've wanted to taste these ever since I saw them," and she sucked one of Bette's breasts into her mouth while her right hand began to stroke and pet Bette's labia and mons.

Bette opened her legs wider. "Put your fingers in me," she whispered. 

Sandy took her mouth from Bette's breast. "You're all dry down there," she said, an obvious and blatant lie, "Let me get it wet."

Not waiting for an answer, she slid the length of Bette's compact little body, and began stroking her opening with her tongue.

"Oh, what a pretty little pussy," she said. "Can you open your pussy for me? Just a little? Just so I can get the tiny tip of my horny little tongue inside?"

Listening to Sandy, I began to get a little hard, myself. But I was content for the moment merely to watch. Sandy kept whispering and breathing on Bette's labia, and by God, it did begin to open.

I swear, that girl could raise an erection on a statue. As Bette's vagina opened, Sandy's tongue slipped in, deeper and deeper. I could tell when it touched Bette's clit by the way she jumped.

I was half hard by this time. I was so caught up in the little drama unfolding at my feet that I scarcely noticed when Jeff sat next to me. "We've got good seats for the show," he said. 

I nodded.

Then he said, "Do you mind?" The next thing I knew, he had his hand on my member. 

I started to say "yes," but then I thought what an asset this pair would be at the studio. Besides, to be honest, his hand felt good as he squeezed and rubbed my genitals.

"That feels good," I said.

"I've got one, too," he said pointedly. Christ, the things I have to do! I thought wryly. But I reached over and grabbed his spear. 

"Hey! Not so rough!" he said.

"Sorry," I said with great insincerity.

I began to stroke and pet his tool. He had an immediate erection. I mean, a hard one. The kind old men and young women will kill for.

I lost track of what was going on at our feet, but when I glanced down, I saw that Sandy and Bette were on their sides in a `69' position, each with her head wedged between her partner's thighs. 

"Do you mind if I kiss it a little?" Jeff was talking to me again. While I was pulling myself away from the steamy scene before us and trying to focus on his question, he moved down on the couch, and his head was suddenly over my lap. I felt my cock slide into a long, deep, hot, wet cavern. He had me in his throat, and was swal- lowing almost continually. 

It felt strange, but damn good, except I didn't care for the whisker burn I was getting on my thigh. His hand slipped between my legs and he cupped my scrotum, briefly, then moved back to my rectum. Suddenly, his middle finger slipped inside, and he began massaging my prostate while he milked me. 

I was distracted by the women. Bette came first, her cries muffled by Sandra's opening jammed hard against her mouth. Bette did something to Sandy; maybe she bit her labia. But Sandy yelped in pain and suddenly began coming. I don't know where she kept it, but this was her third major orgasm of the evening.

Even Bette was impressed. She had swung around and was holding Sandy, now, petting her and loving her while Sandy shook and vibrated. 

Jeff had released my member so he could watch the fireworks, too.

"Does Sandy go off like this all the time?" I asked.

"Sometimes," Jeff said, "but mostly just since we started swinging with you guys." Then he took my member in his mouth again.

I could have told him it was no use. Despite his best efforts, the poor tired little thing continued to shrink, and finally he gave up. He turned to me. "Jerk me off, will you, Jim?"

Sure, what the hell?

He rolled over on the couch so I could reached his cock. I began stroking it with my right hand and massaging his balls with my left. His eyes were closed, and he began humping up against my hand. He lacked a foreskin, poor guy, and my hand was dry against his skin. He needed lubrication. 

What the hell? I leaned over and took his member in my mouth. Not for the first time, as his hot knob swelled my cheeks, I marvelled at the satiny texture of penis skin. 

I was dimly aware of Bette's awed voice. "I never thought I'd see . . ."

Meanwhile, I pumped Jeff's stalk briskly with my right hand while I squeezed his balls and rolled them in their wrinkled hairy sack. I felt his hands grip my head, moving it up and down. I also heard him moan his ecstacy, his gratitude.

I felt his urethra contract, and moved my head just in time to avoid getting spattered in the face.

Then it was my turn to go into the bathroom. When I came out, Jeff and Sandy were sitting close together on the couch, their bare thighs touching, as they shared a glass of wine. I wanted something stronger, so I went into the kitchen and fixed myself a drink.

When I came out of the kitchen, I heard Sandy say, "But didn't you feel a little inhibited in front of those strangers?"

I knew Bette must have been describing her experience as the schoolmarm on the first evening at the studio. I was also interested in hearing Bette's answer.

"Frankly, I never thought about it. Well, that's not strictly true. I love to show off, and this seemed a perfect opportunity. Besides, Carol reminded me just how good 18 year-old cock can be. The last time I had one, I was only 16, much too young to appreciate it."

Sandy looked quizzical. "Do you suppose they will be there next week?" she asked. Bette shrugged.

"I'm not sure," I said, "but knowing Steve, if not, they will have someone else just as interesting."

Sandy looked at Jeff. "What do you think, sport? Should we give it a shot?"

Jeff looked at me and grinned. "Right now, I'd follow these guys anywhere. Sure. Let's go."

The Morrisons left soon after, and we went to bed.

The next week passed quickly. I spent a great deal of time rescheduling my appointments and court dates to free up Thursdays and Fridays. Old Betsy Ridder, the Clerk's deputy -- I think the place must have been built around her -- said, as I selected new hearing dates, "You fellows are retiring younger and younger."

She was a good sort. I smiled. "Not exactly retiring, Betsy. I've been appointed house counsel for a combination porno studio, sex ranch and whorehouse."

As I expected, Betsy burst into laughter at such a preposterous idea. She covered her mouth and ran to tell the other women what that funny Mr. Bromfield had just said.

Bette talked to Sandy during the week. They agreed that we should take two cars. The Morrisons could follow us to the studio. I left the office early on Friday and arrived home in mid-afternoon. Sandy had already delivered their baby to Jeff's mother, and the Morrisons were in the living room with Bette, nervously waiting for me. I kissed both women and shook hands with Jeff. Bette was wearing a white knit minidress with a low scoop neckline, while Sandy was dressed more formally in a black cocktail dress. Jeff was wearing a sport jacket over a knit shirt and slacks.

I quickly showered, donned a similar outfit, and returned to the living room. "Are we set?"

Everyone stood and filed out. I picked up our overnight bag, and followed the crowd to the elevator. We arrived at the studio shortly before dark. A half dozen cars were already parked by the barn. We stood waiting for the Morrisons. 




Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 08



Jeff grabbed his bag and locked his car. "This is quite a layout," he said.

"Wait until you see the inside," I said. Bette and Sandy walked ahead of us toward the house. I looked at Jeff. "I hope I didn't make a mistake talking you guys into coming out here," I said quietly.

"Well," Jeff replied, "if it gets too rough, we can always leave. But don't sell me short, Jim. I'm not the same guy Louise had to coddle many moons ago. You guys, especially you, Jim, have helped me grow up a whole lot since then!"

God, I hope so, I said silently. I rang the bell. 

Carol answered the door. "My goodness, Jim, you're family. You don't have to ring the doorbell."

"Thanks," I said. I made the introductions. Carol wore her thick dark mane brushed to one side, and a stunning brocaded Chinese cheongsam that buttoned in a tight collar around her neck, was snugly fitted to her breast, and reached only to mid thigh. Her abbreviated skirt was slit to her hip. Bette looked at her admiringly. "I love your dress," she said.

"Well," Carol said, "it's practical." She flipped her skirt up to show her auburn bush. "See? Easy access. Sets the tone for the party, don't you think? Leave your bags here," she added, "and come to meet the people."

Sandra and Jeff looked around curiously. We followed her into the living room. This time, she led us on into the recreation room (I smiled inwardly when I reflected on how very appropriate that name was). I glanced at the stage as we walked across the room, and wondered what performance was scheduled for tonight. 

The cast of characters was almost the same as the previous party. Sam Benson, Tod's wife -- and my mystery woman -- waved as we walked past. Her blonde hair was piled in an artistically ar ranged jumble. She was wearing an off the shoulder blouse and a short leather skirt. 

Corrine was there, too. Her slob of a husband apparently was already staking out his trapline. We introduced the Morrisons. Corrine was dressed a bit more modestly this evening, wearing a short sweater dress about three sizes too small. 

I liked Corrine, and my affection for her was probably obvious as I kissed her cheek.

Jane and Blair Harper were there, as were the Rounder twins, Lucy and Mark. Lucy was wearing little girl clothes again tonight; she had her hair in pigtails and bows and wore a tiny pinafore.

After we made the rounds, and while Bette was chatting with a new couple, Carol spoke quietly to me. "Come into the office for a minute, Jim."

Inside, she sat at the desk again, and picked up the folder I had examined on my earlier visit. "Here you are, Jim," she said.

I opened the folder. Neatly stapled to the left hand side was a copy of the Board of Director's minutes authorizing the issuance of 25,000 shares of Satin Corporation common stock to James L. Bromfield. On the right hand side was a stock certificate designat ing me as the owner of 25,000 shares of common stock. 

We returned to the party. I saw Bette wave to Alex Sofer across the room. I glanced at Jeff to see what impression this group was making on him.

My misgivings dissolved when I saw the hungry expression on his face. I leaned over, "Take it easy," I said, "there's plenty to go around. Pace yourself." Sandy overheard me, and giggled. 

"Hey, bucko!" 

I turned and was immediately wrapped in a pair of young freckled arms and kissed firmly on the mouth. Who else but the lovely Irish lass, Bridget Gravell.

She wore a green jump suit that complemented her flaming red hair. It was only partly closed, and her bountiful, freckled breasts almost, but not quite, tumbled free. I introduced her to the Morrisons. "This girl has freckles in places you wouldn't believe," I said, pinching her ass. She slapped at my hand.

"Ah, just for that, me boyo, I'm thinkin' you'll be bringing yourself off before the evenin's over." Then she relented. "Unless I get you first, while you're fresh, of course."

Bette and Sandy laughed at that. 

Three couples from the previous week were missing. But Richard and Carmine, the two men I had met at the board meeting a week earlier, were there. We shook hands, and I introduced them to Bette and the Morrisons. Seen again, I was struck by how different they appeared. Richard was short and almost pudgy while Carmine was tall, gaunt and hawk nosed.

Their ladies looked like a pair of expensive call girls. The blonde was named June. Her partner was Jacky. June wore a modish cocktail dress that fit her well and looked expensive. Her thick, blonde hair swung in a long page boy cut.

Jacky was also dressed conservatively. Her dark brown hair was elaborately arranged, like Sam's, to resemble a rumpled bed, which I thought an unintended irony. 

When June and I shook hands, she acted as if she was genuinely glad to meet me. Naturally, I thought she had more bounce and sparkle than her friend, and I wondered if she would join in the fun and games later. Bette noticed my interest and smiled.   


Looking at the two men, I was reminded that I still wasn't quite sure why I had been summoned to that meeting, but obviously I had served a purpose. I was beginning to think that perhaps Steve had wanted a witness there for some important reason.

It's not uncommon for persons unrelated to the transaction to be asked to witness a signature, or even, as in this case, attend a meeting so they can later testify on oath that so and so said such and such. I could even understand why Steve failed to take me into his confidence. A prior agreement or understanding between us on that particular issue might be used by the opposition in an effort to impeach my testimony.

But it didn't explain why Steve was being so coy after the meeting. Mentally, I shrugged. It would all be clear soon enough. In the meantime, I was at a party where I was supposed to have fun. Jeff quietly took my arm and pulled me to one side. "What's the drill?" he asked. "How come everybody is still dressed?"

"Jeff," I said reprovingly, "where are your manners? Keep your pants on. Things will start happening pretty quick." I saw Bette talking to Sandy, and I assumed she was giving her the same message.

Carol appeared in front of me. "Why don't you and Jeff freshen your drinks? We've got some girl talk to do," she said nodding toward Bette and Sandy.

Jeff and I went into the kitchen. Bridget was pressed into the corner behind the refrigerator by an obviously aroused George McLaran. I thought of going to her rescue, but she spotted me and ducking under George's arm, swung open the refrigerator door. "Tis the least I can do for one of the big bosses," she trilled.

Her zipper had been lowered to her crotch, and her right breast coyly poked through the opening in her jump suit. "I'm sorry if we interrupted anything," I said in a mock sincere voice. McLaran did not look pleased.

The three of us went back in the rec room. Jeff and Bridget found a mat to sit on and a bean bag to lean against. I returned to my old place against the wall and sat down.

"Is that place reserved?" 

I looked up, surprised. It was June. 

I scrambled to my feet. "No, no," she said. "I meant it. Are you expecting someone?"

I shook my head. "We're a pretty casual lot," I said. "Not much planning is involved. The only thing you need around here is stamina."

June laughed. "In that case, do you mind if I join you?"

"Not at all," I said. "I'm delighted. It's just that I thought you'd be with Richard or Carmine."

She laughed again, and made an odd turning gesture in the air with her right hand. I looked at her with a raised eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.

"I was just putting the flag down. I'm off duty. I'm on my own time. Understand?"

"I don't, but it's none of my business."

June looked at me strangely. "But it is your business," she said. "Or at least that's what I've been told."

The girl had my undivided attention. Just as I was going to ask for an explanation, Steve walked to the front of the room. 

The people fell silent.

"We're changing the format slightly, tonight," he said. "I don't have a tape for you, but some of our lovely guests have agreed to share some intimate moments with you. Meet the mystery ladies."

Bette and Sandy, both wearing long flowing robes and masquerade masks came to the edge of the platform and bowed to the audience. 

Sandy let Bette lead her to the cot which had been turned sideways, so when they sat on it they faced the audience. A mirror was tilted above the cot so the audience could see the cot from above.  Bette put her arms around Sandy and gave her a long, tender, loving kiss. I knew that wasn't simulated. She petted Sandy's hair, and kissed her eyelids, her nose, and her mouth again, while she slipped her hand into the folds of Sandy's gown. It was clear that she was stroking Sandy's breast.

Somehow, the shadow of a hand moving under the cloth was more erotic than if Sandy had been naked. 

Timidly, and only after Bette placed her hand there, Sandy began to stroke Bette's upturned breasts through her robe. 

"I wouldn't mind if someone did that to me," June said absently. I grinned and scooted a little closer. 

I cupped her breast through her dress. "The zipper is in back," she said. 

I quickly had her dress resting in her lap. She wore no bra. She didn't need one. Her breasts were full without drooping. Her soft nipples pointed straight ahead like little headlights. I reached down and touched the nearest one with my tongue.

"Ummm, that feels good," she said. "But you're missing your wife's stage debut."

I glanced at the stage. Both women were naked, and were very visible in the mirror as they rested on the cot, petting and loving each other. Bette's fingers were exploring Sandy's womanhood. I turned back to June.

"She is your wife, isn't she?"

I didn't want to discuss my marital situation. "Sort of," I agreed, and let it go at that.

"She's very beautiful," June said.

"Which one are you talking about?" I asked.

"The blonde. I saw the way she was looking at you when we met."

"The blonde's a friend," I said. "She's married to that hunk sitting over there with Bridget."

"Oh," June said. "Pardon me. I was mistaken."

I glanced back at the stage. Bette had swapped ends, and now she and Sandy were sucking and licking each other. I wondered if Sandy was sufficiently uninhibited to give this crowd a demonstration of her orgasmic power.

I turned back to June. "What happened to your date?"

She shrugged. "Right after we met you, the men told us to run along and have a good time. That's all I know."

"Well, if I'm not being too nosy, how did you meet them in the first place?"

"Carol called us," June said.

"Do you and Jacky work for the studio?" I asked.

"Sometimes, but we do better freelancing."

Something she said earlier came back to me. "Let me see if I get this straight," I said. "You and Jacky, do you work for an escort service?" 

June shook her head. "Only when Carol needs us. Otherwise we freelance." 

Things were beginning to jell. I remembered Steve's mentioning Carol's `little business on the side.'

"You freelance, you said?" I asked.

"That's right."

"Well, how does Carol fit into that?"

June's eyes narrowed, and I realized I had gone too far. Hastily, I retreated. "I'm sorry if you think I'm going where I've got no business. I don't mean to pry, but as you said yourself a few minutes ago, I do have a stake here -- my professional life is involved -- so I'm not just being nosy, or only asking questions for the hell of it."

June look thoughtfully at me for a moment. "I guess it doesn't matter," she said. "You'll find out sooner or later, anyhow." Then she told me about Carol's exclusive telephone list.

"You knew that Carol used to trick? Well, she did. But then she began to specialize and now she has a nice list of john's wives who belong to some swinger's club she goes to. These women tell Carol they'd like to find a nice clean, safe girl for their husband as a birthday present, or for Christmas or whatever, and she calls me or Jacky. It's a nice clean trick, and we split with her. Sometimes it's more of a regular escort thing, but again, we know she always knows the john, and it is always a clean deal. Sometimes we get two or three calls a week."  "So she's running a call ring, and you're the girls." I said almost to myself, trying to fold what June had told me into my new job description.

"Well, Jesus H. Christ," she said with surprisingly heavy sarcasm, "I do believe he's finally figured it out."

"Sarcasm is unbecoming," I said as I licked her other breast. "One last question. What did you mean when you said `it was my business'"?

She rolled her eyes, expressing displeasure at my persistent questions. "OK," she said. "But this is your last answer. It's like this. I get five bills for a gig like this. Jacky gets five. It's a cash transaction and I don't think Carol is printing the money in the kitchen. It's no skin off my ass where the money comes from, but its got to be coming put of your till.

"Frankly, I don't know why you wanted a couple of working girls. It looks to me like you've got more good looking free nooky here than anyone could possibly use."

I didn't know, either, but I intended to find out. I sadly kissed her breast goodby. "I've got to go see a man about something," I said. I stood up. Ignoring the couples around me who were half undressed and rolling around on the mats or were already bent over the bean bags, I went looking for Steve or Carol. 

I badly needed some answers.



Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 09



Synopsis: Jim and Bette have enlisted Sandra and Jeff to attend the swing parties at Satin Studios. During the latest party, one of the call girls (who works part of the time at Carol's direction) tells Jim what she knows of the true nature of Satin Studio's business. Jim has left her and is looking for Carol to demand an explanation.

Chapter 9: On the Job Training

Steve and Carol were in the office. Steve was seated at a small electronic console watching a TV screen, while Carol watched over his shoulder. Steve grinned sheepishly when he saw me. "I was going to tell you about this later," he said, "but since you're here, take a look."

I peered over his shoulder. I was mildly shocked -- but not surprised -- to see Bette and Sandy writhing through the final stages of their performance.

"That's only part of it," Steve said. "How do you like this?" He nodded toward the screen while he twisted a dial and flipped two switches. The scene abruptly shifted from the stage to the audience. This time he focused on two shadowy figures in the corner. 

"We had better tape this," he said quietly to Carol. The camera's eye sharpened and brought into fine detail one man sucking another. A zoom lens brought the fellator's face into clear focus, even recording his five o'clock shadow. It was Carmine, his mouth stuffed with Jeff's swollen member. The optics were so good that the veins in that glistening sword, even the hairs surrounding it, were clearly visible.

I felt a sudden chill. Even though I only suspected that Carmine was linked to the Mob, I felt certain that if that tape ever left this room, we could all be in serious, perhaps even mortal, danger. "Christ!" I burst out. "What's the matter with you people! Are you crazy? If he's who I think he is, and if he even knew such a tape existed, we could be in terrible danger!" 

"I doubt it," Steve drawled. "Of course, it's a gamble, but we have good odds." His face was solemn as he studied my reaction. Then he said, "Here. I'll show you what I mean. Watch the screen." He shuffled though some tapes, found what he wanted, and slipped it into the player. The screen lit up.

He had taped last Friday's meeting. The camera was above and slightly in front of me. The scene it displayed was focused so tightly that it appeared that Carmine and I were alone. 

Carmine was speaking. "And as our legal adviser here, what do you say? Morals be damned. Personally, I don't give a shit what side of the law we're on as long as we stay out of jail!"

And then, there I was, looking him in the eye, smiling a smug lawyerly smile, and saying smoothly, "Don't worry. Nobody's going to jail. Even if worst came to worst, the prosecution would be in no position to take us to court!"

The scene faded. Steve looked at me. 

I was stunned. A sharp physical pain shot through my stomach, and I felt the blood drain from my face. Those few words, intended merely to describe the equitable doctrine of `clean hands', taken out of context, might convince any jury that I possessed criminal intent. In an instant, my career was in jeopardy. 

"Carol, get Jim a drink. He looks like he needs one." Then to me, Steve added, "Sit down, Jim. Don't take things so hard. Nothing has changed. I just wanted you to see why Carmine isn't going to hurt anybody."

Carol came back carrying a stiff bourbon/water. "If that's not strong enough. . ." she said tentatively.

I gratefully gulped half the glass's contents. The whiskey burned a comforting path down my throat. Almost immediately, I felt better. "I don't understand," I said. "I thought we were business associates -- partners, even. Partners don't blackmail each other."

Steve sighed. "Sad to say, Jim, in this business they do. You see," he continued, "when you function, as we do, on the edge of an unstable and hypocritical public's idea of morality and government's shifting notions of tolerance, you can't afford to take chances. In this business, trusting anyone without taking back collateral is foolish to the point of being suicidal."

I hated to concede the point, but I couldn't argue with his logic. "Where does that leave us?" I asked.

Steve pulled a side chair around to face me and sat inches away. Carol sat quietly behind the desk. "We -- you and us -- know how the public sees us; we've already talked about that. But now, the main thing is that we need to understand each other.

"I've been rehearsing this speech all week," he said. "This is the way I see it." He paused for a moment. His solemn face was thoughtful. "You're a nice guy, Jim. You're pleasant, smart, educated, and you seem to share our attitude toward sex. You wouldn't be here today," he went on, "if we thought otherwise.

"In short, you could be a great partner," he said slowly. "The only thing is," he added, "we don't know how tough you are. That's what we need to find out.

"I know swinging preachers who are even more idealistic than you," he continued, "but most of them will cut and run at the first sign of trouble. I need someone beside me who won't.

"The question now is, are you willing to take the necessary chances a business like this requires? We're not manufacturing auto parts, you know. Face it. We operate in an environment where we knowingly skirt the law most of the time. That's why we think it's important to find out what you're made of.

"I know you won't like it, and I'll be frank with you; If word about this test should leak out, I expect you would be in serious trouble. On the other hand, it's not too late, even now, even knowing what you do about me and that," he gestured toward the console, "to back out.

"If you want to put things back where they were, just say so. I have enough confidence in your integrity that I'll even give you the tape you just saw. We'll shake hands, and never see each other again."

His voice took on a deeper tone. "On the other hand, if you decide to stay, you know you'll be putting your balls firmly in our hands. What will it be?"

My mind raced in a circle. Common sense argued that I could spend the rest of my life comfortably drafting wills and probating estates; that I could grow old fussing with codicils and interpreting testamentary intent. My gonads, on the other hand, urged me to spit in convention's eye, throw away my carefully constructed career plan, and plunge headlong into a world of XXX videos, of cocks and cunts, pussy and playboys, swingers and porno queens. 

It isn't every day a man has to face hard truths about himself as Steve was forcing me to do. For the first time, I understood and began to sympathize with those lawyers whose careers are spent serving organized crime as house counsel. For most of them, the lure was undoubtedly the power and excitement the job entailed, compared to the alternative boredom of a routine law practice. 

Although some Puritans might disagree, I'm not an amoral person. I couldn't work for organized crime, for instance, partly because I find profit based on human misery repugnant, partly because large sums of money have no particular appeal, and finally because, quite frankly, I knew I lacked the stomach for it.

Steve's proposition, on the other hand, offered endless, harmless sexual excitement and ultimately, a possibility of shaping community values toward more realistic sexual attitudes.

"This is a big decision," I said. "Could I have five minutes to discuss it with Bette?"

Carol spoke for the first time. "I'm afraid not," she said. "This has to be your decision. What will it be?"

I took a deep breath and made, what was for me, an irrevocable commitment. I was to lose count, in the days that followed, of the number of times I bitterly regretted that decision.

"Yes," I said quietly, "I'm in."

Steve's grin broadened. "Wonderful," he said. "But just remember," he added, his smile fading, "I now have your balls firmly in my hands."

"And mine," Carol chimed in. Looking at me levelly, she added, "Your first assignment is to turn Bette and Sandy out."

"Turn them out?" I asked stupidly.

"Yes," she said impatiently, "make 'em go out and peddle their cute little tails. Turn them into call girls, put them on the street; get them into an escort agency. I don't care. Just make 'em go out and trick for you."

"I could never do that!" I said indignantly. 

Steve held his hand out palm up and closed his fist. Carol said, "Do you want to see that tape again?"

Then I knew I had truly crossed the Rubicon. I understood now, all too well, why he had allowed me to watch him tape Carmine sucking Jeff's member. He wasn't threatening Carmine. He was blackmailing me. 

My face must have betrayed my feelings. "I think we all need another drink," Steve said to Carol.

"Be right back," she said cheerfully. 

As soon as she left the room, Steve tapped me on the knee. "Carol gets carried away sometimes," he said. "I would have been more tactful, but when you think about it, there isn't a hell of a lot of difference between tricking and swinging, now is there?"


"The only real difference is the girl's motive, and that's not always clear. For instance, what about your friend, Grace, at the Ten/Thirty Club? She wasn't there because she wanted to be. She was there because her old man wanted to trade her for another man's woman. That's what wife-swapping is. Remember that barter is the oldest form of commerce there is. Don't you see? In effect, he was turning her out."

I did see. He was right, and my conscience breathed a very small sigh of relief. 

Carol came back into the room carrying a tray with three tinkling glasses. "How are you feeling, gramps?" she asked, "Gotten over your righteous attack yet?"

It was impossible to stay angry with Carol. Her bubbling good spirits always repaired what injuries she had inflicted with her sharp tongue. 

I sighed, "I feel like a virgin who has just been raped by Godzilla."

"Now you understand why we girls get mad when you smug bastards talk about relaxing and enjoying it," she said grimly. Then she smiled again. "Would it help if I told you that as part of my initiation into the business, Steve turned me out, and I had to trick for him for almost a year?" She paused, and grinned. "I learned to like it, and I still turn a trick once in a while, just for the hell of it," she added, "and because it's exciting."

I noticed that she said nothing about her business arrangement with June and Jacky. I wondered if she intended to add Bette and Sandy to her stable after I broke them in. Inwardly, I flinched at the thought.

We finished our drinks. Despite Steve's logical argument, I still felt like a monster when I went back into the recreation room, burdened with my new assignment.

A group grope was going strong, and I wondered, as I searched the crowd for Bette, if Steve was recording this scene for posterity. Why ask? I knew he was. Bette might have been in the pile, but she wasn't in sight. Sandy was, however, and I felt a strong twinge of guilt as she motioned me over. 

Her eyes were wide and excited. "I've never seen anything like this," she said. "I want to get into it, but I don't know how."

"Follow me," I said as I slipped out of my clothes. "You don't need to dress for this." I piled my clothes neatly next to the wall, and motioned for her toga. She looked around, and whipped it off, handing it to me. A pair of freckled arms encircled my neck, and a pair of warm tits rubbed my back. I turned to properly greet my Irish friend.

"Shure and begorra," I said.

"You silly man," she said as she fastened her open mouth on mine. She nibbled on my lips and gradually pried them apart with her insatiable tongue. They teach good kissing on the Emerald Isle. 

We tongue wrestled for a moment, and Bridget sank to the floor, pulling me down with her. Almost immediately I felt a familiar mouth claim my manhood. Bridget was stuffing a breast in my mouth, but I got a quick glimpse of Sandra's pale golden head happily bobbing up and down on my member.

I reached for Bridget's secret place with my left hand, and slipped three fingers into her. She began moving up and down on my hand.

I heard a slight grunt, and felt Sandy's jaws tense around my cock. I opened my eyes. The pudgy gangster (if that's what he was), Richard, had mounted her from behind. Another female mouth claimed my right nipple. Who, here, knew how sensitive my nipples were? 

I felt a finger in my rectum massage my prostate. Bridget retrieved her breast, and deftly rolled a fleshy thigh over my head. Then she mashed her wet, swollen, soggy pussy against my mouth. I guess I deserved it. It was hard to say how many loads of male seed she was carrying, but judging by the viscid string of semen that drooled out of her and landed on my chin, she had just been fucked at least once by every man in the room! 

I reclaimed my hand and wiped the slime off my chin. Bridget was getting impatient. She began rubbing that revolting, yet strangely exciting, wet mop over my nose, eyes, mouth and chin. 

Perhaps it was Sandy's loving efforts, or perhaps it was that finger in my rectum. But suddenly, I wanted to take as much of that dis- gustingly worn womanhood into my mouth as I could manage. I sucked her labia clean, and began to explore her inner lips with my tongue.

The combination of Bridget's cunt, the mysterious finger on my prostate, and Sandy's skillful sucking -- especially when she tickled the underside of my glans with her tongue -- soon caused me to feel that familiar pang in my loins. Bridget pulled back so her clit was over my tongue. She leaned forward, one hand on Sandy's back, the other on the floor. Although the sounds were muffled by her thighs clamped against my ears, I heard Bridget's familiar cry, and my libido responded.

I began involuntary thrusting motions as my seminal gush flooded Sandy's mouth. She took the mouthful and swallowed. Then she began licking and cleaning me off like a mother cat with new kittens.

Suddenly, I was too sensitized for her to continue. I slid out from under the ladies and kissed Sandy in gratitude. Richard didn't much care for these distractions, but as I kissed Sandy I whispered to her to check Bridget out when she had the chance. 

As I wandered into the kitchen, I looked back. Bridget was flat on her back, her feet in Richard's face, while Sandy sucked and licked her tunnel clean.

Bette was standing near the sink, absently rubbing her right breast against Alex Sofer as he stirred their drinks. She had the soft contented look of a satiated woman, and I thought guiltily of the assignment my new partners had laid on my unwilling shoulders. I felt terrible. I wondered if I would ever see that happy, trusting look again. I knew I had to do it. But not tonight.

I slipped up behind her and pinched her bare ass.

"Ouch!" she said, turning and favoring me with a frown. "What'd you do that for?"

"Nothing, yet," I said with a theatrical leer. "How's it going? Having fun?"

"Sure am. How about you?"

Boy, if you only knew! I thought. Aloud, I said, "OK, but the crowd doesn't seem as lively this weekend."

"Or maybe you're getting jaded," she said.

Alex smiled at this domestic exchange. He turned to Bette. "Ready?" She took his hand, but looked back as Alex towed her into the hall. "See you later," she mouthed before disappearing around the corner.

I fixed myself a good stiff drink, and went outside to sit on the diving board under the stars.

"You bored, too?"

I hadn't seen the woman before she spoke. "Oh, a little," I said. "Look, I can go sit someplace else if you'd rather be alone."

"No, no," she said. "I'm glad to have someone to talk to. It's just that over-stimulated glands will only do so much for me. Then I have to back off."

"Is that what you think we are? Merely a bunch of over-stimulated glands?"

"No, that isn't what I meant." she said. "I meant my glands would do only so much for me. That's all."

"Well," I said, faking a deep sigh, "I'm glad we got that cleared up."

She giggled. "What's your name?" she asked. "You sound nice."

"I'm Jim Bromfield," I said. "And you?"

"We met earlier," she said. "I just didn't know your name. I'm June, Carmine's escort date, otherwise June Carpenter." She extended her hand.

We shook hands. Even though this was the second or third time for me this weekend, it still seemed bizarre to be shaking hands with a naked lady.

"You know what I do. How about you? How do you make ends meet?"

"I'm a lawyer," I said. How much longer will I be able to make that claim? I wondered to myself. "Not like Perry Mason; more the Pickwick Papers kind." I said. "I draft contracts, wills, do estate planning, that sort of thing. Not very glamorous or exciting I'm afraid."

"No, but I'll bet it's steady. That's the thing a girl in my line of work misses -- stability."

"I didn't think you girls liked talking about your work." I said.

"We don't mind talking about it. We just don't like being asked about it." 

"I don't see the difference," I said.

"A john pays for a service. OK?"

"Right"

"All at once, he wants the service and a bedtime story that will make him feel morally superior to go along with it. You got it?"

"On the other hand, once in a while, a nice sympathetic, interesting guy like you comes along. Know what's on my mind? I want you to like me. You know what I do for a living; for some reason, it's important for you to know why. Now do you see the difference?"

"Sure. One's business, the other is friendship."

"Right on, Jim." 

"What do you want me to understand?"

"How I can do what I do and keep my self respect."

"I'd like very much to hear about that, June," I said with genuine sincerity.

"It's simple. I spread my legs the same way and for the same reason a plumber picks up a wrench. It's a job. Period. Don't get me wrong. I like to fuck. Sometimes I even get off when I'm fucking a john, although that doesn't often happen. 

"On the other hand, I like the uncertainty and the excitement of tricking. I'm like a salesman. I enjoy the challenge of closing a deal.

"Oh, there's a down side, all right," she quickly added. "And it's more than just a constant worry about disease -- even AIDS. There are real physical risks. I've had a couple of close scrapes with serious wackos. 

"Without a pimp, I'm strictly on my own when I go to some guy's hotel room. If I get hurt or beat up, forget the cops. They'd just laugh. If my bruises show, I have to stay out of sight for a few days. The truth is, we sex workers have a tough life."

"Well, tell me this," I said, "suppose you could wave a magic wand and become a school teacher, say, or a bus driver, whatever. Would you do it?"

"Probably not." She paused for a moment. "There isn't anything else I could do that would pay as well. Don't get me wrong. The Life has its problems, but I've got to think of my old age. Old whores are a sad bunch. We don't have a pension plan, which means I've got to look out for myself. That's why I don't keep a pimp. Your pimp, if you're dumb enough or weak enough to need one, will get you hooked on something just so he can control you. 

"This is a long answer to a short question but I'm stashing a lot of money in mutual funds; that's my retirement. I'll keep tricking as long as I can, and then, we'll see." she paused again, looking at me with closer concentration. "What kind of a lawyer are you, again?"

I told her.

"Could you help me do some long range financial planning?"

"Sure. Give me a call. I'd give you a card, but I don't seem to have any pockets on me right now."

She giggled again. "I like you, Jim. Want to fuck? It's on the house tonight."

"I'm getting chilly," I said. "Let's find a quiet corner where we can lie down and talk this over."

We found an empty room. June turned back the coverlet, and we laid down. "I am curious about one thing," I said, thinking of my new responsibilities.




Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 09



"What's that?"

"How do you work up a fee schedule? In my case, the Bar Association publishes a recommended schedule. Do you girls do that too?"

She giggled. "Not exactly," she said. "You find out what the other girls are getting and set your prices accordingly. Or if you're working out of an escort service, which is good because they do some client screening for you, they set the rates and the girl basically works for tips. If this job had been booked through an escort service, I would have gotten $300 of the $500 fee."

We began caressing each other, but nothing worked. I was as dead as the proverbial doornail. After ten fruitless minutes -- I was becoming very embarrassed -- she hopped out of bed. "I know how to fix this," she said. "I'll be right back."

She was gone about five minutes, and when she returned, she had a consultant in tow. Jacky followed her into the room. Jacky apparently hadn't gotten into the spirit of things, because, quite possibly, she was the only woman in the building still clothed.

"What have we here?" she asked loudly, "an attack of the dreaded softs?"

I fail to find much humor in impotence, especially mine. "Look, girls," I said, "I'm not impotent. I'm just tired; I already came once tonight."

This time, June shook her head. "With the kind of stimulation I see around here, a man your age ought to come at least four, maybe five times in a night."

"OK," I said. "Make it happen."

Jacky reached behind her and lowered her zipper. Her dress slipped off her shoulders and she gracefully stepped out of it. 

She was wearing a matching bra/panty set over a garter belt and hose. She unhooked her bra; the clasp was in front between the cups, then she lifted the cups away from her breasts.

"How do you like these, big boy?" she said, lifting each nipple to her mouth. A cure for what ailed me seemed to be in the offing. I thought it was erotic and exciting watching that young woman lick and suck her own nipples. Then she came over to the bed, and putting her knee on the mattress, leaned so her breasts were dangling like huge melons above my mouth.

"Chew on one of these for a while," she said. 

June, meanwhile, had taken my poor tired cock into her mouth and was trying to breathe life into it. Between Jacky's somewhat crude, but good-natured efforts, and her unabashed sexuality, I began recovering.

I would hope so. It wasn't every day that I had $1,000 worth of working girls trying to get me up. Yet, I knew the real problem was my new assignment. I just could not imagine myself becoming a pimp. 

June stopped her efforts and leaned over the bed. "I give up," she said. "There's something going on in your head that's preventing nature from taking its course. See if you can figure it out. In the meantime, we're going to let you take a little nap."

June opened the door, and after Jacky scooped up her clothes, the girls left. I closed my eyes, and dozed off. Sometime during the night I had company.

I woke out of a deep sleep filled with weird dreams, and opened my eyes. The darkness was absolute. Someone was on the bed with me, gently nursing on my flaccid member. There wasn't a word spoken. Just that silent, steady mouth tenderly, wetly, teasing and stimulating my cock into an erection. I put my hands on the person's face. No whiskers. It was a woman. 

When I was fully erect, the woman straddled my waist and impaled herself on me. Not a word broke the quiet. The only sound was the gentle creaking of the bed as she rocked back and forth, up and down, obviously savoring that root buried in her belly. I felt her breasts. Heavy, fluid, but no clues there. 

The juices that had stubbornly resisted the best efforts of the two working girls now boiled up and spurted into my silent assailant. She continued to move for another minute or so, but I rapidly became flaccid and ignominiously fell out of her.

My silent partner quickly leaned forward. I felt the tips of her nipples on my chest. She gave me a quick kiss, slipped off the bed, and was gone.

To this day, I have no idea who she was.

Bette came into the room the next morning and woke me. "Hey, you going to sleep all day?"

"What time is it?"

"Time you were up, kiddo."

"No, seriously, what time is it?"

"Around 8:00 o'clock, I guess. People are leaving. Steve asked me to see if I could roust you out."

"Did you come in here last night?"

"No, I was busy all night. Same old threesome."

"I might have dreamed it, but I don't think so. A woman came in here last night, screwed me, and left without a word. I have no idea who she was."

"Well, I'm beginning to think this whole place is a little weird," Bette said. "I want to sleep in our own bed tonight. Let's go home."

I was glad to leave, but a little concerned that she might be having second thoughts about the studio. Still, I knew she must have been as tired as I, and I was having trouble waking up. I also knew we should wait until we were rested before tackling the big problem.

I found Jeff with Bridget out by the pool, and told him that we were going to leave. I suggested we might get together in the middle of the week. 

Then I found Steve out in the studio, and told him we were leaving.

"OK," he said. "Just don't forget our deal."

"I won't," I said. "You have my word on it."

He nodded. "I've got big plans for all of us," he said. "But I'm relying on you to hold up your end."

I nodded. We shook hands, and I left.

The drive back to town was uneventful.

My mood was pensive as we pulled into our parking slot in the garage under the apartment. We let ourselves inside. I took some comfort in the familiar walls of our home. I carried our bag into the bedroom while Bette began filling the bathtub. By the time I had mixed two stiff drinks, she was in the tub, soaking. 

I carried our highballs into the bathroom, and put hers in her hand. Then I put the lid of the toilet down and sat on it, watching her unwind.

Bette was lying back, eyes closed. "Jim, it's strange how far we have come since Louise left."

I agreed. "I should say."

"Do you ever wonder what's going to happen to us? Whether Louise will ever come back?"

"Sometimes," I said. "But the longer things keep going the way they are, the more likely it is they will continue," I said. "Don't you agree?"

"You mean you've given up on Louise?"

"Not entirely," I said. "But remember, the Louise who walked out probably no longer exists. She's bound to be a different person now than she was. Whether the new Louise and I would fit together the same as we did before she left is an open and perhaps doubtful question. How do you feel about Phil?"

"I gave up on him long ago," she said. "I should never have married him. Thank God there are no kids to worry about. As far as I'm concerned, he can keep right on going." Bette drained her glass and handed it to me. "Now, I'm going to flop into bed and sleep for about a week. Don't wake me unless the building's on fire."

I handed her a towel, and watched her scrub her exquisite little body until her skin glowed.

"Goodnight," she yawned, and she went into the bedroom, closing the door.

Bette slept until late afternoon. I was working on a brief in a fairly complicated probate matter when she came padding into the den, wearing a short nightie and a pair of badly scuffed slippers.

"What time is it?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.

"Your week's not up yet, if that's what you mean," I said. "It's about 4:30 of the same day you went to bed. How about some scrambled eggs and toast?"

"Sounds good," she said.

I went into the kitchen and made some coffee. Then I put the eggs on a burner and bread in the toaster. When Bette came out of the bathroom, her breakfast was on the kitchen table.

"I like it when you wait on me," she said. 

I sat across from her and sipped my coffee while I watched her eat. "It looks like we're going to be waiting on each other a whole lot more in the future than we have in the past," I said.

Her eyebrows went up and she looked at me quizzically. "What do you mean?" she asked.

I took a deep breath, and told her about Carol's ultimatum. First, however, in careful lawyerly fashion, I laid a foundation, beginning with her arguments to me the previous week about the morality of accepting Steve's offer. Then I told her what June had said, which led to my confrontation with Steve and Carol in Steve's office, the incriminating tape, reinforced by the implied threat of gangster violence because of Carmine's tape.

I salvaged some honor by making it clear that what followed was entirely my voluntary act. I explained that Steve had offered to let me off the hook, if I wanted out, even to the point of warning me that this was my last chance. Ignorant of the consequences, and blinded by the promise of an exciting new life, I had plunged recklessly ahead, and now I was about to begin paying the price. Then I told her about Carol's ultimatum.

Bette sat, lost in thought, for a full minute or more, while I anxiously held my breath. Then she looked at me. "So now, you're putting it all on me," she said quietly. "Well, it looks as if you put your foot in it now. Of course, I know it's partly my fault. And I suppose June was right. The only difference between fucking for fun and fucking for money is motive."

She was silent for another extended period. I waited patiently. She looked at me again. "I'm busy rationalizing what should be a simple, uncomplicated deal. After all, recreational fucking pays off in excitement, and physical sensations. The physical sensations would be the same, and it might be very exciting to get paid for fucking strangers." She nodded, "I'll do it on one condition."

My relief must have been obvious. I can't imagine what would have happened if I had failed to recruit her. My career, probably. Possibly a broken knee cap, although as that thought crossed my mind, I knew I was being ridiculously melodramatic. "What's the condition?"

"That you put in writing what you want me to do, and sign it before a notary public."

Despite myself, I looked at her with new-found admiration. I knew it would be pointless to argue with her. This girl knew how to take care of herself. I wish I did. No matter which way I turned, it seemed I was digging myself deeper and deeper into a moral, if not an ethical, morass from which there could be no escape. But what were my choices?

"OK," I said. "I'll do it on Monday."

"In the meanwhile, let's go see what the tarts are wearing these days," Bette said.

"Really?"

"Sure. I've got to dress the part; otherwise I won't get any customers -- or are they clients? Which do they prefer to be called?"

Bette looked at me thoughtfully. "Another thing," she said, "I need to learn how much to charge for each service and when to collect the money. Those are things a girl has every right to expect her pimp to teach her. I've heard that the girls usually wash off the client's equipment and inspect it for disease before taking off their clothes. But suppose the client says `no.' What then?"

I flinched when she mentioned pimps, but I had no right to. After all, that was the deal. If I was to turn her out, prostitute her to serve my interest, than I was her pimp, plain and simple. Unfortunately for her, however, I knew nothing about the business.

"Look, when I talked to June about her tricking, she said that the escort service route was the way to go, because the service did some client screening, but more importantly, kept track of the girls."

"If I wanted to make whoring a life's work," Bette replied, "the escort service would make sense. But I don't intend to make a career of this. Just remember that as far as I'm concerned, I'm in this only to save your foolish neck. I think once you're irrevocably compro- mised, they'll back off. They don't care about me. But they want you by the balls."

I was sure Bette was right, but that didn't help us now. If we were going to go through with it, it looked as if we had to do some research.

We drove downtown for dinner, and then spent an hour cruising the streets populated by streetwalkers. We parked and watched the garishly dressed, long legged young whores approach cruising cars, speak briefly to the occupant, then either get in the car or back away and wait for the next slowly prowling car to come along. Gradually, we began to see a pattern in the way the girls worked, how they cooperated with each other by spreading out along the sidewalk. 

We also spotted several pimps in the shadows. Sometimes they spoke to their girls; but mostly they stayed in the background. When a girl got into a car, however, I noticed that her man almost always jotted down the car's tag number. I was sure that if things in the car got rough for her; if the john turned out to be dangerous, for example, she might be able to hold him off by telling him his license number had been noted.

"I don't think I want to do this," Bette said with a slight shudder. "This is too rough for me." 

I thought so, too. We drove uptown and went into the bar of the Ambassador Hotel, a seedy sort of place that had barely escaped the wrecker's ball when the new freeway was built. We sat at a table in the back of the room and watched the action. 

There were half dozen men and two women seated along the bar. One of the women sat next to a man. The other woman, an Asian girl, was alone, sitting at the end of the bar. The bartender kept returning to chat with her when he wasn't serving a customer.

"I'll bet she's a working girl," I whispered to Bette.

"Maybe she's the bartender's wife," Bette said.

I looked more closely at the woman. Her hairstyle was like June's had been, a long pageboy. She wore a single string of fake pearls around her neck, dangling earrings that glinted in the dimly lit bar when she moved her head, and a dark cocktail dress that was conservative and only moderately revealing.

"Bartender's wives don't hang around bars wearing pearls," I said. "Girl friends, maybe. But not wives."

The woman said something to the bartender, and stood up, picking up her purse. He left her glass alone when she left the room.

"I'm going to get a better look at her," Bette hissed, as she tucked her bag under her arm and followed the woman to the ladies room. While she was gone, I studied another woman seated at a nearby table.

I had noticed her when we entered the room, but had assumed her escort was making a phone call or was in the head or something.

By then, we had been there for fifteen minutes. Since no escort had put in an appearance, I concluded there wasn't one. 

Unlike the woman at the bar, this woman was wearing a hat; a feminine version of a classic fedora over one eye. She wore a cocktail dress and necklace. Her back was to me so I couldn't see her face or legs. However, judging by those parts of her trim body that I could see, I felt it was likely that her legs were also attractive.

Bette returned to the table with a glint of triumph in her eye. The cocktail waitress was right behind her. She set a drink down before the lady in the hat and motioned to one of the men sitting at the bar who waved his glass in salute.

As Bette sat, I saw the man approach the lady and sit across the table from her. Soon, they rose and he tossed some money on the table. She took his arm. Carrying her bag over her shoulder and her hat in hand, they left the bar together. I was right. She had neat legs.

"Well, what did you find out?" I asked.

"You were right," Bette said. "Su Lin is definitely a working girl."

"`Su Lin'?" I said.

"You don't think girls go to the Ladies just to pee and powder their noses, do you?"

"What else did you find out?"

"I told her I was thinking of tricking, and asked her the best way to break into the trade."

"Good for you. What'd she say?"

"She was in a hurry. She had a date waiting for her upstairs, but she gave me her telephone number, and told me to call tomorrow after 11."

"That's wonderful," I said. "It looks like we're on the right track." Bette looked suddenly doubtful. "What's the matter?" I asked, anxiously. After such a good start, I didn't want something gumming up the works.

"Well, it's just that, you know, can we trust her?"

"We need to find out," I said slowly. "She doesn't know me. Suppose I register and ask the bellboy to send Su Lin up? She'll think I'm just another john, but I'm a lawyer, and I know how to ask questions.

"She'll be suspicious at first, of course, but I can give her another $100 and tell her I'm a writer gathering material for a book or something. She may not believe me, but she'll believe the $100."

"Let's get you out of sight. You take the car home or take a cab, whatever you prefer. I'll go ahead and register, and see what I can find out. Then, tomorrow, you'll have something to go on when you talk to her."

"That sounds cool. I'll take a cab," Bette said.

I paid the bar tab, put Bette in a cab, and registered without luggage. The bellboy who let me into my room rolled his eyes knowingly when I handed him a $20 bill and asked for Su Lin.

"I'll see if she's around," he said. "But if she isn't, I know another girl . . ."

I shook my head. "No, Su Lin comes highly recommended," I said, "and I really want to meet her."

"I get it," the bellboy said. "I'll try to find her."

"There's another $20 in it if you can," I said. "Also, if you know what she drinks, have room service send a drink up for her and a bourbon rocks for me. OK?"

"I'll bring it myself," the lad replied. 

I turned on the TV, took off my shoes, jacket, and tie, and sat back to watch the evening news. In five minutes, there was a tap at the door. It was the bellboy with a drink tray. I opened the door, and he came in.

"I found her. She'll be up soon." he said. "You're a cash customer; I'll have to collect for the drinks now."

I gave him a $50 bill. "Bring another round in an hour," I said. His eyes widened when he realized I didn't expect change.

About 15 minutes later, I heard a soft tapping at the door. I opened it to the tall, slender Asian girl we had seen in the bar.

"Hi," she said, "I'm Su Lin. The bellboy said you wanted to see me?"

"Sure do," I said. "Come in, sit down."

She warily stepped into the room and glanced around. I knew she was thinking vice when she failed to see luggage.

"I know what you're thinking," I said, "but this date is on the level." 

"Do you have a business card?"

I reached for my wallet, and extracted a card. She took the telephone book out of the desk and opened it to attorneys in the yellow pages.

"Can I see your driver's license?"

"Sure," I said, as I handed it over. She looked at the picture and then at me. Satisfied, she handed it back.

"OK," she said, "you're a lawyer who is listed in the yellow pages, but that doesn't tell me who sent you or why. Bob, the bellman, said I was recommended. What's happening?"

"Well, you were recommended by a man who doesn't want his name used, but he spoke very highly of you. He says you're a bright girl and good people." I handed her the drink I had ordered for her. "I don't know what it is, but the bellman brought it for you. He brought this for me." I lifted my bourbon glass.

While she sipped her drink, I studied my visitor's face. Her dark eyes, slightly almond shaped, her high cheek bones, and her honey colored complexion, gave her an exotic Asian appearance. Her lips were full, sensuously and invitingly rounded, while her tiny nose was a mere punctuation mark on a face that was at once friendly, open, and beautiful. Her softly modulated voice carried no trace of a foreign accent. 

She frowned slightly. "Is this a date or a conference?" she asked, looking impatiently at her watch.

"It's both. What's your fee for an hour?"




Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 09



"$200"

I opened my wallet and took out three $100 bills, which I handed to her. The money disappeared into her clothing. She stood up.

"We might as well get the preliminaries over," she said. "Let's go in the bathroom for a minute."

I followed her into the bathroom. She began filling the sink with warm water. 

"Please drop your pants and shorts," she said. 

I did as she requested. She pulled me over to the sink so my cock was hanging over the basin.

She took my foreskin between her thumb and fore-finger. "Humm. I haven't seen one of these in a while," she said, as she pulled it back, exposing my bright red glans. She soaped her hands and gently washed my genitals. I knew she was looking for a sexually transmitted disease. 

Despite the underlying sanitary reason for my mini bath, her skilled manual manipulation was sufficient to begin stiffening my cock. She smiled approvingly. 

"Are you going to get undressed?" she asked. 

"Yes. Are you?"

She didn't know whether I was kidding. "Of course," she said. As if to prove the point she reached behind her neck for her zipper. Then she turned around. "Can you unhook and unzip me?" she asked.

"Delighted," I said gallantly, as I lowered the zipper below her waist. 

I watched her step gracefully out of her dress and drape it carefully over the back of the room's easy chair. I had my pants off, and was unbuttoning my shirt as she pulled her half slip down and let it fall to the floor. She was wearing a garter belt. Wonderful!

My shirt followed my pants across the room, and I unbuckled my wrist watch and laid it on the night table. Then I stretched full length on the bed and watched her stretch her arms in a practiced motion behind her back to unsnap her bra.

I don't know about other men, but as much as I enjoy seeing naked breasts and watching them quiver, jiggle and sway when a woman moves, it is especially exciting to watch a woman reveal her breasts to me for the first time. Su Lin's breasts were full and beautifully rounded. Her nipples were dark, and rose from large brownish areolas. I longed to take one in my mouth.

Her mound was shaven except for a small patch of carefully trimmed hair just above it in the form of a heart. I wondered if she would let me go down on her.

"Would you like me to leave my garter belt on?"

"Yeh, that would be nice," I said.

Su Lin dug in her purse for a moment then handed me a packet.

"Do you want to put this on, or would you rather I did it?"

"You do it," I said.

She sat on the bed next to me. "We've got to make this little fellow stand up before we can put on his raincoat," she said, as she vigorously began stroking me. "Is there anything you'd like me to do, or you'd like to do?" she asked.

"Yeh, lie down and give me a hug," I said. 

She swung her feet up on the bed and stretched out next to me, raising her arms as she did so. I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her to me for a moment. I could feel her pillowy breasts mash tight against my chest. My manhood began nudging against her belly.

I stroked her flanks and hip. Then I scrunched down a bit and took one of those soft brown nipples between my lips and began to suck it.

"Oh, that feels good," she said. "Suck it harder."

I ran my fingers back and forth over her other nipple, teasing it and causing it to grow. 

She had her hand under my chest and was pinching and pulling my tiny nipples. It felt good.

Then I began to go further down. 

Her belly was slightly extended. It was sexy as hell, and I wondered briefly if she could be pregnant. I almost asked her, but decided that might not be tactful. Besides, it had been many years since I had last been in bed with a prostitute on a professional level, and I was trying to learn what I could about the modern day modus operandi of an average hotel whore.

(to be continued)



Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 10



Synopsis: Jim discovers he's being blackmailed by his new "partners" but despite their offer to release him, he elects to continue the relationship. The gloves are off! Carol tells him his first assignment is to "turn Bette and Sandy out," meaning force them to become his prostitutes.   Bette agrees to give prostitution a try. Bette make a connection with a hotel whore named Su Lin. Jim follows up to learn as much as possible by hiring her. They have just completed his "short arm" inspection.

Chapter 10 -- Bromfield's Temptations

Louise Returns

I poked my tongue into her belly button, and was rewarded by a sharp intake of breath. Then I kissed and nuzzled my way across her arching stomach, from hip to hip, digging my nose into the ticklish spots near her hip and pelvic bones.

I worked my way back up her lush body, kissing and licking the salty, sweaty underside of both breasts.

"Does my belly turn you off?" she asked. For an answer, I put her hand on my stiffening cock.

She grinned. "Feels like he's ready for his raincoat," she said. She sat up and deftly peeled the condom packet open. Then she stripped my foreskin back and quickly rolled the rubber over my straining cock. "There," she said. "Now he's ready to go to work."

"Not quite," I said, as I kissed and licked my way down her body again. This time I didn't stop until I reached her carefully tonsured mons. I was intrigued by her little heart, wondering how she trimmed and shaved it. I made a mental note to ask her.

My target was just below the tip of that tiny heart. I admired her vagina. It looked almost virginal. Her labia was firm, and the tight little seam between her legs looked as if it had never been opened.

I ran my tongue the length of it, and felt her thighs quiver and her legs separate in response. Then I hooked my tongue into the seam and slid it up until it reached her clitoris. She jumped and simultaneously squeezed her thighs against my ears and pushed my face away.

I faintly heard her say, "That's enough! Stick that big cock of yours into my little pussy. Let's get it on!"

I was ready. She opened her legs as I crawled up her body. Her hand guided me into her secret place.

"Ahhhh, there," she said as I penetrated her body. "That's better. Oh, that feels goooood. Sooo goood."

Some of that, I was sure, was whore talk, intended to get her out of the room in the shortest possible time. But my male ego whispered that some might be genuine appreciation. It was nice to think so, anyhow.

Su Lin, a good actress, went through the motions of enthusiastic sex, even simulating an orgasm, but I was disappointed. I knew her heart wasn't in it, and that attitude was infectious. I nearly lost it before I was through, but then I began thinking of the weekend just past. That was the spur I needed, and I shot my $300 wad into the latex sheath.

Su Lin let me rest inside her for about two minutes. Then she said, "We'd better get that thing out of there, big boy, before it leaks." I obligingly raised up so she could pull her leg out from under me. 

She looked at me. "Would you mind removing that rubber?" she asked. "I'm not supposed to touch it after you've come in it."

I peeled it off and dropped it on the floor. 

Su Lin was fastening her bra, which reminded me: "How do you trim your pussy hair?" I asked.

She laughed. "You men are all alike. It's not what you think. My husband trims it for me."

"Your husband?"

"Oh, sure," Su Lin said. "Whores have husbands, too, you know."

As a matter of fact, I didn't know. But I was learning. I had my shorts on when there was a knock on the door. Su Lin looked suddenly alarmed, but I dug in my pants for my wallet and opened the door. It was Bob the bellboy with the promised drink tray. He set the drinks down and accepted another $20 bill. 

He closed the door, and Su Lin let out an exaggerated sigh. "For a minute there, I thought you had me," she said. "If a jail matron spotted this," she patted her belly, "she'd send me to the doctor, and the welfare people would get the judge to put me away until I reached my term. They're real tough on pregnant working girls."

"How far along are you?" I asked.

"Half way. Almost five months."

"Well, you sure as hell don't want to spend the next four months in jail," I said, as I handed her a drink, and sat on the edge of the bed. An idea popped into my mind.

I told her about Satin Studios. "I represent a small movie studio in the valley. Why don't you come out and do a screen test? You might be the girl we're looking for." Then I told her about Corrine's tendency to overwork her leading men. "She can't seem to control her vaginal muscles," I said. "A porno flick can survive a shitty script, awful actors, terrible direction and bad photography. The thing it can't survive is premature ejaculation. And that's what you get with Corrine." I listened to myself in amazement as I glibly rattled on. I had been a pornographer less than 24 hours and already I was an expert. 

Su Lin wasn't listening. Her mind was going in the opposite direction. Her eyes began to narrow. "Are you trying to tell me you think I'm a lousy lay? That this was all an act?" she asked in a dangerously icy voice.

Even though the signals were very clear, I plunged recklessly ahead. "I don't know how good a lay you are," I said, "but I do know you're a good actress, and that's what we need. We don't need hot sex; we need photogenic sex. Do you ever take a weekend off?"

She nodded.

"Do you guys swing?"

"We used to," Su Lin said, "before Stick got hurt." 

"Stick got hurt?"

Su Lin was still dressed only in her bra and panties. I enjoyed eyeing that sexy bulge above her garter belt. "He was a construction carpenter. He fell off a scaffold and wrecked his back. Now he's paralyzed from the waist down. The insurance company proved that Stick had been smoking dope and was stoned at the time, so all they had to pay were his medical bills. That's when I started supporting the family on my back.

"The baby is Stick's, just in case you're wondering," she added. "He knocked me up before he was hurt."

"Will you come out for a test? You don't have to party, but you guys might like it. We have these parties -- real swinging parties -- twice a month. You guys are more than welcome. He might not be able to fuck, but I'll bet he knows what to do with his tongue. You've got my card, talk it over with Stick and give me a call."

I expected her to slip into her dress and kiss me good night. Instead she stared wide-eyed at me.

"You really think I'm a lousy lay, don't you?" she hissed, her hands going back to her bra snaps. Her soft breasts bounced in joyful relief at being released again. 

She stood and slipped her panties down. "This one's on me, Buster," she said through clenched teeth. "I hope you're ready!"

She sprang at me, her weight and momentum rolling me on my back. Before I could recover, she mashed her lips against mine, her breasts flattening against my arm. She worked her open mouth against mine, forcing my lips open. Her tongue penetrated my mouth and began fucking the back of my throat. So much for the myth that whores never kiss their johns.

Her left hand was in my crotch. She dug her fingers into the fly of my shorts and gave a mighty yank. The front tore out.

Next she began rubbing my privates. This time, she was deadly serious. When my poor pecker failed to respond, she abruptly abandoned my mouth, and pausing only briefly to nip at my nipples, put her mouth where her hand had been, sucking both my flaccid little member and my scrotum into her hot, wet mouth. Meanwhile, her fingernails delicately tickle/scratched my thighs and belly, and began to pluck at my nipples. 

I felt myself begin to stir. 

Satisfied with the results so far, she removed her mouth from my cock, and pushing my legs up in the air, over her shoulders, began to lick that narrow space separating my scrotum from my rectum. Then she shoved her mouth into my ass. Her tongue began rimming my rectum.

Meanwhile, her right hand was playing with my manhood, which was showing remarkable signs of recovery. She put my legs down and forced them apart, so she was lying between them. She took my member in her mouth again, but this time, she also stuck her middle finger in my rectum, and began massaging my prostate. I felt my balls begin climbing into my belly.

"Swing around," I said, "let me get at your pussy."

She whipped around and straddled my head with her hard thighs. Then she slid her legs back and tilted her pelvis down so her vagina was resting on my mouth. She began rubbing her bald womanhood against my nose, lips and chin. I pushed my head back and touched her puckered little asshole with my tongue.

She spasmed, and farted. I shifted my attention to her neat little slit. She welcomed my attention to her clit, and as I began sucking it, she began to vibrate as though she was attached to an old fashioned vibrating machine. The muscles in her thighs bunched up, pressing against my head. She had my cock deep in her throat. Her hot, skillful mouth performing magic on it.

Abruptly, she released me and rolled over.

"Fuck me, fuck me as hard as you can," she whispered. There was no time now for a condom. 

I swung between her spread knees. Her hand guided me home, and I slammed into her as deep as I could go.

Before I was ready to climax, her pelvis began to rock, her belly rippled, and her chest and face turned bright pink. This was no fake orgasm. I didn't come. I don't know why. I suppose the situation was too intense. 

After we lay quietly in each other's arms for a few minutes, Su Lin opened her eyes and looked at me. "Did you notice any improvement?" she asked primly.

For once, I could only nod. She motioned me away, and climbed off the bed. After grabbing her purse, she went into the bathroom. Almost immediately, she came back. "You didn't come," she said.    

"Well, nobody's perfect," I said defensively.

"Do you want to come? I can suck you off."

"You're making me feel guilty," I said. "I'm keeping you from your appointed rounds, or something."

She laughed. "Hey listen, Mister, that $300 I scored off you is the best I've done all week. I usually get $50 for a straight piece, an extra $20 if they want me to blow them, and an extra $30 for `Around the World'. 

"Of course," she went on, "a straight fuck lasts only 20 minutes or so; not that long if I get the bath temperature right. That and my strip usually has them all primed. You haven't done badly. I've been here for an hour and a half, and fucked you twice. That's $200 worth right there." 

I was intrigued. "How come you asked for $200 in the first place?" 

"Bob said he thought you wanted something special, so I asked a special price. Besides, you looked dumb enough to pay it."

"What's a special?" 

"Oh, weird shit. You know, golden showers, where people piss on each other, that sort of thing. Once in a while I get a toe sucker. They usually want to suck my toes, but once in a while they want me to suck theirs."

Su Lin hooked her bra in front, then swiveled it around her waist and pulled it up, tucking her breasts into their accustomed cups. 

I wanted to impress on her that I was for real. Remembering what I had told Bette, I opened my wallet. I had one $100 and two $1 bills. I took out the $100 and wrapped it around my card. "I want you to give me a call," I said. "I really mean it. Besides, you owe me one."

She had her dress on. She turned, holding her hair out of the way. "Zip me up, will you?"   

She went into the bathroom. When she returned, her hair was carefully back in place. Her lipstick was fresh. She leaned toward me and made kissing motions in the air. "It's been fun," she said. "Let's do it again some time." The door opened and closed. She was gone.

I quickly dressed and went home. I thought Bette was asleep when I entered our bedroom. As I slid quietly between the sheets, she welcomed me by saying sleepily, "Couldn't you even wash her smell off before you came to bed?"

"I thought you were asleep."

"How can I sleep while you're downtown catching the clap or something?"

"Well, I sure went through $500 tonight in a hurry."

"Holy shit!" Bette exclaimed, sitting bolt upright. "Is there that kind of money in this? Why didn't someone tell me about this sooner?"

"Come on," I said. "Everyone knows there's money in sin, but not usually this much. A good bit of that $500 went to overhead." Then I told Bette what had happened and what I had learned. "I think Su Lin would make a good replacement for Corrine, but that's up to Steve. If she and her husband will come to a party, maybe he will see what I saw."

"When I call her tomorrow, then, how should I play it?" Bette asked. "I think it might be best not let on that we are working together. What do you think?"

"I think you're probably right," I said.

I went to the office the next morning, spent an uneventful day, and went home to discover I was already living with a bona fide whore.

Bette was waiting for me, two $20s and a $10 in her hand. "This is the first money I ever earned in my life," she said quickly, rolling her eyes and waving the money excitedly. "I think I'll frame it. Or maybe I should buy you a pink Cadillac! Why didn't anyone ever tell me about this?"

"Calm down," I said. "What happened?"

"I called Su Lin before noon," Bette said."She had just gotten up, and was drinking her coffee. Anyhow, we talked for a long time. She wanted to know why I wanted to `get in the life' as she put it. I told her my husband had split, and I was down on my luck, but that I had been told I had a good body, and I liked sex. I told her I was a swinger, and I didn't see much difference between fucking for fun and fucking for money.

"She congratulated me on my attitude, said she felt the same way, and that maybe she could help. Then she asked if I was interested in daytime dates? I said `sure except I didn't have a car'. She said that was no problem. The john would always know in advance that he was expected to pay my cab fare. Then she asked me if I'd like to start right away? I said, `sure' and she gave me the address of a motel out on Springfield avenue. She said she was supposed to meet a regular weekly date there at 2:00, but she had a doctor's appointment she couldn't break, and she had no way of reaching the date to change it. 

"I called a cab, gave him the address God, the place was a dump and turned my first trick." There was no bitterness or anger in her voice. Rather, she sounded relieved, and perhaps, even, proud.

"I'll tell you, though, when the cab let me out in that neighborhood, I had serious second thoughts! I was a little early, and I walked around the block about three times before I got the nerve to go knock on the door. It was unit number seven. A nice looking guy answered the door. I told him Su Lin had sent me, and that she had told me he would spring for the cab fare.

"He said `no problem', asked how much it was, doubled it, and handed it to me with the fifty bucks."

I was surprised and a little chagrined to find I was becoming aroused by the thought of her fucking strangers for money. "What happened then?" I asked.

"We talked for a couple of minutes. Then he said he didn't have much time, and began taking off his shirt. I was wearing what I'm wearing now -- just a sundress and panties -- so I slipped out of the sundress and pulled my panties down." 

She smiled at the recollection. "He liked my tits," she said. Then she went on, "Well, he got his pants off. He already had a boner, and I began playing with it and kissing it. He stopped me and told me to lay back and spread my legs." She paused, lost in thought. 

"I was scared/excited rather than fucking/excited if you know what I mean. I was pretty dry. I asked him if he would stick his finger in me first, to sort of get me loosened up. I told him this was my first time. He didn't believe me at first, but when he saw how dumb I was, I guess he did.

"Anyhow, he diddled me for a few minutes. That loosened it up. Then we started working his cock into me, and finally he was there. He rode me pretty hard, and then he came, pulled out, pulled on his pants and left. I called a cab and here I am."

"You didn't use a rubber or anything?" I asked.

"No. Was I supposed to?"

"With AIDs out there, you don't dare fuck without one!"

"But aren't you proud of me?"

"I really am," I said solemnly, "in more ways than you can possibly imagine."

"Just don't forget your promise to write this down," Bette said. "I've got to have some protection, the way I'm sticking my neck out for you."

"I'll do it tomorrow," I said.

She was stroking me now, and bending over to lick it. Suddenly the phone rang. Since I was lying on the couch, Bette answered. 

"Oh, hi," she said. Bette listened for a minute. I could tell by the way she was standing that she was surprised. She said, "Sure. . . I guess so. . . I need to pick some stuff up at the drug store, though. . . You do? OK, what time?. . . OK, I'll be there. Oh, what should I wear?. . . Right. . . Thanks a million for think- ing of me. Bye."

"I'm going to get rich, I'm going to get rich," Bette sang as she came back to the couch. She looked at my member, and cocked her head to one side. "I guess I can work in a quickie, if you don't waste any time."

"What was that?" I knew, but I had to ask.

"That was Su Lin," Bette said unnecessarily. "It seems there's a convention in town, and they are one girl short. Is that the same as one short girl? It's an all night deal, and it's five hundred smackers, cash money, right on the old barrel head.

"Su Lin said that new girls don't usually get conventions; that's something you work up to, but my trick called Su Lin this afternoon to thank her for sending me. Maybe he also told her I wouldn't give him my phone number. I mean, he's Su Lin's steady trick."

As I listened to this enthusiastic babble about tricks and johns, I was beginning to wonder if I had unleashed a monster. 

My cock was beginning to ache in its moment of need. I held out my hand to Bette. "Come here; do something about this, will you?"

She was still playing the coy whore. "Well, you know, I don't usually do this for fun. . ."

I grabbed her. We wrestled on the couch for a moment. Suddenly she fastened her mouth on mine. Wrestling time was over. Her eyes were wide open, and her face was solemn. "Make love to me, Jim. Please tell me that what I'm doing is right!"

I peeled her panties down her slender legs. Meanwhile, she had started unbuttoning my shirt. I helped her, and together we removed my pants and shorts. Then we lay on the couch, wrapped tightly together.

Her little body suddenly began to quiver. Neither of us spoke or moved for several minutes. Gradually, her trembling subsided. My impatient, unsentimental cock began dripping precum on the cushions.

"See what you're making me do?" I said in a mock stern voice.

She touched my member, and it rewarded her by making another little deposit on her hand. 

"Oh, yuk," she said, making a show of trying to wipe her hand clean on my leg. "Now you're screwing the furniture. I don't know whether I'd better go on a date tonight or not."

I was relieved that she was evidently reassured and had recovered her poise. "Come here, furniture, spread those legs, and I'll show you who is screwing what!"

She hooked one leg over the back of the couch and held the other in the air, waiting for me to climb aboard. "Wait. I forgot. Aren't I supposed to give you a short-arm inspection and make you wear a rubber?"

"You would if you were getting paid for it," I said. "Hold still." She guided me into her now almost overflowing womanhood.





Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 10



I went straight in, right up to the hilt. 

"Ohhh, yes," she said, her eyes closed. 

We lay there for a few moments, with my cock deeply embedded in her belly, our bodies tightly entwined. I felt her trying to milk me with her vaginal muscles. I attempted to make myself twitch inside her. Neither of us was very successful, but something important passed between us. 

She began moving ever so slightly beneath me, rocking her pelvis, and urging me to move. I pulled myself almost all the way out of her, diddling her labia with the head of my penis, then I rammed it in as deep as I could. 

"Ooof," she said. 

"Like that?" I asked.

"I like everything," she said, "but especially when you get wild. Fuck me, Jim. Show me you love me."

I was barely conscious of her words. I knew only that I had a desperate need to get as much of me as possible into that mysterious place between her thighs. 

I was sweating, now, and pumping hard into her tiny body. My ears were ringing, and I felt the couch move with the force of my thrusts as I crammed myself again and again into her tight opening.

"Ohhhh Jim! I'mmm coming. WOW, GODDAMN," she screamed as the telltale crimson flush spread over her chest and cheeks. I erupted into her on her second wave, and we crashed -- literally -- on the floor, still tightly welded together.

We lay there quietly, trying to regain our breath. "God damn, Jim! That was the best one ever!" 

"I thought it was pretty good, myself," I said.

"I've got to get a bath and get ready," she said. "Do you mind fixing your own supper?"

"Are they going to feed you?" I asked.

"Su Lin didn't say. She just said be there by 9:00." 

"Probably not, if it's that late," I said. "Why don't I fix us a couple of omelettes?"

"That would be wonderful. You sure it's OK?"

"Well, sure," I said. "I'm not thrilled, but I'm stuck with the deal I made, and I'm very grateful to you for being such a good sport about it."    

Actually, to be truthful, I was very remorseful, not that I had succeeded in `turning her out' as Carol expressed it, but that I was experiencing a vicarious thrill imagining what she would be doing before the night was over. To tell the truth, I was beginning to wonder how kinky I really was. 

I had experienced the same kinky arousal when I had watched Louise being fondled and fucked by other men after we were married, but this wasn't the same. I don't know whether the difference came from the fact that this was illegal, or whether, knowing I was solely responsible, I felt more protective toward Bette than I had toward Louise. I remembered something Bette had said. Fuck me. Show me you love me. 

Bette was in love with me! 

I was so lost in thought at that point that I almost let the eggs scorch. I poured the cheese, mushrooms, diced ham, and spoonsful of diced tomatoes on the cooking eggs and clumsily folded them shut.

"Soup's on," I called.

"I'll be right there," Bette replied. 

She came shuffling into the kitchen wearing an old bathrobe of mine. "I wish I knew what to do about my hair," she said as she sat at the table. She sniffed the eggs. "Those smell good, Jim." 

I poured two glasses of rosé, and held my glass in the air. " Well," I toasted, "bottom's up."

Oops. Perhaps that wasn't the most tactful thing I could have said, but Bette laughed.

"I'm glad this isn't bothering you too much," she said. "I couldn't do this if you were the jealous type."

I took her hand, and looked her straight in the face. "No, I'm not very possessive," I said, "but I am worried about you. You take care of yourself. Stick as close to Su Lin as you can. Don't forget the precautions. They're important; promise me you won't forget."

She smiled again. "I thought you were going to remind me to get the money first," she said.

"Well, there is that," I said agreeably. "But I thought you said this was a package deal?"

"It is, I guess. But Su Lin said sometimes the men will pay extra for some things."

"Some things?"

"Sure; you know, a straight fuck, a blow job. That's all in a day's work. It's the frills -- and I'm not sure what they are -- but they're extra."

For a moment, visions of sado masochism, mayhem, even bestiality, crossed my mind. Then I remembered Su Lin's description of some of the peculiar things her clients sometimes requested. I still didn't like it, but I rationalized that Su Lin would protect Bette, if it came to that. Besides, this was a convention. What could happen at a convention, for God's sake?

Bette went into the bedroom to finish dressing. I didn't want to hover, or make her nervous, so I went in the living room after I put the dishes in the washer, and sat in my easy chair to read the evening paper. 

The words were meaningless. Finally, I gave up and went into the bedroom to watch Bette dress.

She was worth watching. She leaned over the dressing table applying the last of her makeup. She wore only her garter belt, hose and panties. As I watched, she raised her arms and began brushing her hair. I was grateful once again that Bette wore a bra only when it was absolutely necessary, which was not while she was putting on makeup.

A woman innocently brushing her hair, her breasts quivering and bobbing, is my idea of the quintessence of sensuality. Again, I wondered if I was losing my mind sending that innocent girl out to sell herself. I went back to the living room and forced myself to read the paper. Soon Bette came in. "How do I look?"

She pirouetted as gracefully as possible in her narrow skirt. "Do I look like $500 worth?"

I started to say something maudlin -- I was talking myself into a terrible state of mind -- but I caught myself just in time and instead, I smiled. "You'll knock 'em dead, baby." 

The truth was, she would. She was wearing a rather demure, but form-hugging, cocktail dress. One of those basic black dresses every woman has in her wardrobe. This one zipped up the side.

She also wore a necklace of amber beads and matching earrings. Her hair was swept up in a seemingly sophisticated coiffure that looked as if she had spent hours in a beauty salon. In a word, she looked good enough to eat.

"What would you think if I just sort of tagged along and sat down in the bar while you were upstairs?"

Her smile disappeared, and she looked at me somberly. "I wouldn't like it," she said. "You're not my pimp, and I won't have you acting like one."

Well, that took care of that. "Will you at least let me drive you to work?"  

"That would be nice," she said, "but you can't stay. Promise you won't, and I'll let you drive me downtown."

"OK," I said reluctantly, "I promise." 

She threw a wrap around her shoulders, picked up her clutch bag I wondered briefly what an inventory of that bag would reveal -- but I knew I really didn't want to find out; and we went out to the elevator.

Neither of us had much to say on the way downtown. I think we were both afraid of saying the wrong thing. Almost too soon, I pulled in under the marquee of the convention hotel. "You're sure I can't stay?"

"Positive" 

"Well, call me when you're ready to come home."

"Don't be silly," she said, "I'll get a cab. Don't wait up because I won't call!"

"I don't want to smear my lipstick," she said, as she leaned over and placed a light kiss on the end of my nose. "Be a good boy," she said. "Go home and get some sleep. I'll be all right."

The doorman opened the car door, and offered her a gloved hand. The door closed and I watched her walk into the hotel. The die, as they say, was cast.

My mind was in a turmoil. One part of me hated what I was forcing Bette to do, and by inference, what I had become, but another part was lasciviously speculating about what lay in store for her.

The doorman motioned for me to drive on. I forced myself to drive back to the apartment. The place seemed empty. I sat at the dressing table remembering how she had looked only an hour before and breathing deeply of her lingering scent. I wondered what she was doing. 

I went into the kitchen and fixed myself a stiff drink. Then I went into the living room and sat in my favorite chair, staring at the wall. My mind turned to Su Lin's crippled husband.

I wondered if this was the way he felt as, night after night, he watched her get ready to go out to fuck other men. I even thought of him trimming her pussy hair for the entertainment and amusement of others.

I tossed off the drink and fixed myself another. It was in the middle of that second drink when I got my head together. Which, again, I imagine Su Lin's husband had to do. I only hoped it wasn't as painful for my unknown colleague as it was for me.

This insight, which some might consider rationalization, came as I reflected again on that poor crippled slob tidying up his wife's mons. He wasn't doing that for her customers. He was doing that for her. Same thing with Bette. Sure. I had started the ball rolling, and without that she probably never would have turned a trick in her life.

However, all the decisions from then on had been hers. It even seemed possible that one day, when asked how she had come to such a state, she would be that whore who could honestly reply, 'Just lucky, I guess.' I recalled her sly remark about the number of times she had carried her panties home in her purse only moments after our first encounter.

I finished my second drink, tossed a mental coin, and went to fix a third. The booze helped peel away layers of emotional debris that had accumulated on my psyche since Louise had run off with the human donkey.

Then I began gingerly probing my feelings for Louise, much as I might have investigated a missing filling. I was sure I still loved her. I knew we were a good fit, intellectually and physi- cally. In general, we liked the same things, and I pictured her laughing over a shared joke. I smiled as I remembered how, months earlier, she had strolled into this very room proudly displaying her heavy, unfettered breasts, jiggling and swaying beneath a nearly transparent blouse to begin the Morrisons' seduction.

I thought of Bette. I remembered her sitting bare breasted in front of her mirror, clad only in stockings, garter belt and panties, innocently brushing her hair. 

The two women were very different. Bette lacked Louise's quickness, style, and I hated to admit it -- somewhat artificial sophistication. But when I turned the question around, and applied Bette's standards to Louise, Louise didn't measure up too well, either. 

This evening would have been the perfect case in point. Louise was much too concerned, not about what she did, but about what other people might think. I didn't doubt for a minute whether Louise would have been as willing as Bette to screw that guy in the motel. And I was sure she would have found collecting the money just as exciting as Bette had. But she would never have gone to the hotel, not out of moral scruples, but because she would have been afraid that someone might suspect she was a hooker. She couldn't handle that. It never occurred to Bette to wonder what people were thinking.

I found myself smiling as I thought about that girl. Helped, no doubt, by the alcohol, I said it out loud. "I believe I may be in love with you, Bette Cox."

Comforted, I went to bed. When the alarm went off in the morning, Bette was beside to me, sleeping the sleep of the righteous. Her clothes were in a muddle on the floor, and she hadn't wiped her makeup off, so her pillow was a mess, but she was here and in one piece.

I couldn't help but smile when I realized how much her smeared eyeliner caused her to look like a sleeping raccoon. I felt a pang of tenderness. It suddenly occurred to me that I really was in love this girl.

As quietly as possible, I showered and got myself ready to go to the office. Before I left, I wrote a note and pinned it to my pillow where she would see it when she woke. 

You look like you had a busy night. I'm looking forward to hearing about it. I love you, dear, Jim

When I let myself into the apartment that evening, Bette met me at the door wearing a garter belt, hose, amber necklace, earrings, half a tube of lipstick on her mouth and nipples, and a broad welcoming grin. Her hair was pinned up as it had been when she had walked into the hotel lobby the previous evening. She was holding my drink her hand.

"How do you like my new uniform?" she asked. "Actually, this is your reward for being a good boy and going home last night like I told you to."

I was surprised and excited. She was young and exuberant and beautiful. She looked fantastic.

"What do you mean, `uniform'?" I asked.

"Gimme a kiss, and I'll tell you," she said. "But first, you have to sit down. I've got two huge surprises!"

I gave her a husbandly peck, and obediently sank into my chair. She opened her purse, and said, "Close your eyes and hold out your hand."

I did as I was told. She laid an envelope in my hands. "Now you can look," she said.

It was a thick hotel envelope. "Look inside," she prompted. 

I tore the envelope open, and exposed a small sheaf of hundred dollar bills, some fifties, twenties and tens. There were even two one dollar bills. I slowly counted the money. It came to $972.

A thousand dollars? I was dumfounded. Even after my experience with Su Lin, I had no idea there was this kind of money in sex.

"What did you do for that much money?" 

"Just what we do all the time, only more of it," she said. "Isn't it wonderful?" 

I was still trying to get back to reality, but through all the background confusion and noise, one salient fact was obvious. I didn't need a half bottle of whiskey to tell me what was now abundantly clear. Where some people are natural football players or airline pilots or brain surgeons, Bette was a natural born prostitute. 

As if to prove the point, she sat on my lap and pushed a breast in my face. I inhaled a subtle musky scent that was very exciting. "If you're nice to me," she said coquettishly, "I'll tell you all about it."

A lump started growing in my pants. Bette felt it, and she wiggled her tight little butt around on it. "What's that I'm sitting on?" she said, her eyes wide in mock wonder. "It won't hurt me, will it?"

I washed the lipstick off the nearest nipple with my tongue and lips. "Now you stop that," she said. "I'll give you 20 minutes to stop that!"

I didn't want to interrupt her. "OK, I'll stop. What happened after you got out of the car?" 

"I was supposed to go up to suite 1042. So I got on the elevator and went to the 10th floor. I went to the door and knocked. This middle-aged guy answered. He looked at me, and his face lit up. `Hey, Bill,' he yelled, here's another one. She's mine. I saw her first.'

"This Bill came from the other room. `Don't make her stand in the hall, you fool,' he said, `invite her in.'

"I still wasn't sure I was in the right place. I said, `Is Su Lin here?' `Right here, honey.' I turned around. Su Lin was standing in a little hallway behind me. I can tell you, I was some kind of relieved to see her!"

"I can imagine," I said. "Then what happened?"

"Su Lin looked at this Bill and said, `I want to talk to my friend in the bedroom for a minute.' Bill didn't say anything, and Su Lin pulled me inside the room.

"`Here's the deal,' she said. `I thought we were going to work a convention, but it turns out this is a private party. These guys are cons. They're setting up a high stakes poker game. There were supposed to be five girls here, one for each chair, but Vicki and Cleo couldn't make it; take it from me, kid, don't ever depend on a whore! We're going to have to double.'

"I said, `You mean we're . . .'

"She said, `You got it. We wait table, we screw 'em, and for all I know we even wash the dishes!'

"Su Lin was real unhappy. But then she perked up. `The good part is that we each get $500 and tips.' I thought that sounded pretty good, but Su Lin said, `wait until you see what you have to do for it. Then it may not look so good.' 

"I told Su Lin, `Hey, I'm here to trick.' She smiled, `So am I,' she said, `but we got to serve these jokers bare assed naked.'

"I said I didn't care, but Su Lin said, `I wouldn't mind showing it off, either, if I had a cute little tush like you.' she said, `but I'm five months along.'

"I already knew she was knocked up, Bette said, but I couldn't let on I knew, could I? Instead, I said, `OK, You stay in the background, fuck them in the dark. You mix the drinks and I'll serve.'" 

My lump had subsided during this longwinded recital. "Get to the good parts," I said.

"The good part is that I met Marta. She's the other big surprise. I know you'll love her. But I'm coming to that."

She turned and offered her other breast. I began licking on it, hoping to regain lost ground. 

"This was where Marta came in. Bill banged on the door, told us our friend had arrived, and that their friends were due any minute. `When you girls come out, we want to see some skin, Bill said.' 

"Marta came into the room." Bette looked me straight in the eye. "Jim, you'll see for yourself; there's no point in me describing her."

The significance of that remark went right past me. "OK, I said. You're in the bedroom. Now what?"

"Su Lin and I began stripping while Su Lin explained the situation to Marta. Then Su Lin went to the door. `How much skin do you want?' she asked.

"Bill evidently was in charge. `Oh, leave your bras and panties on for now,' he said. `We want to play poker. You girls can get naked later.' He laughed.

"Su Lin said, `There's something else we need to talk about, Bill.' She went into the living room. When she came back, she had three envelopes, one for each of us. 'Better count it,' she said as she passed them around. I opened mine. There were five $100 bills in it,

I had my dress off by this time, when there was a knock on the door. Bill yelled for one of us to see who was there. I went to the door. Two men were standing there. 'Pardon me,' the taller one said. 'Is this Bill Ralston's suite?'

"Bill stepped around the door. 'You've found it. Hi, Jake, Andy, he said. Come on in.'

"Bill turned to me and asked me to take their drink orders. The short one, Jake, winked at me and said 'What I'll have she can't carry in no glass.' Bill laughed. 'There'll be plenty of time for that later,' he said. I went into the kitchenette and Su Lin handed me their drinks.

"While I was in the kitchen, two more men came in. Marta opened the door for them. Everyone had a drink and the men sat down to play. Jake beckoned to me. I thought he wanted another drink, but he stopped me from picking up his glass. 'I just need a little rub for luck,' he said. He slipped his hand inside my panties and rubbed my ass a couple of times.

"I didn't mind. It felt kind of good. Then one of the other men said to Marta, 'Don't you feel a little overdressed, honey?' She looked to see what Bill wanted her to do. Bill nodded, so she reached behind to unhook her bra strap.

"You'd think those men had never seen a pair of tits before, the way they watched her! Of course, she knew this was her chance, so she made a big production out of taking it off.

"Finally, Bill said, 'Whose deal is it?" to get their minds back on the poker game. Everyone looked at him, and Marta hung her bra on a lamp.

"That's the way the evening went. Around midnight, after Jake won a big hand, he got up and said, This little honey and I are going to take a break. See you in a few minutes, fellas.' Then he put his arm around me and steered me into the bedroom.

"I swear to God, Jim, I remembered my promise, but everything happened so fast, I never had a chance to wash him or put a rubber on him." She looked like a naughty child expecting to be scolded.

"I had hung my bra next to Marta's an hour earlier, so the only thing I was wearing was my panties. and Jake just tore them off of me. I thought something like this might happen, so earlier, I had gone into the bathroom and squirted some KY jelly into my pussy. I was sort of ready, and anyhow, he didn't have much of a prick.




Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 10



"I went down on him as soon as he dropped his pants, although he was already good and hard. That's when he pulled me to my feet, tore my panties off, and pushed me on the bed. Then he jumped on me. 'Put my pecker in your cunt,' he said. I reached down and slipped the head of his cock inside me. He fooled me. He kept his hard-on for 20 minutes and he fucked me every way he knew of -- on my back, on my side, doggy, but he wouldn't let me get on top. Anyhow, he suddenly lost it. I don't know why, but he suddenly shriveled and fell out of me. 'Oh, shit!' he said. It was all I could do to keep from laughing.

"He pulled his pants on and took out his wallet. He handed me two $100 bills. 'Keep your mouth shut about this,' he said. 'I want to get your friend, the one with big tits, in here before the evening is over. So don't let on I never came.'

"Why should I say anything? But Jake and I had set the stage and the other girls had their turn in the bedroom. By this time, us girls were naked. Su Lin is really showing, but if they noticed it nobody said anything. Personally, I think her belly is sexy. Another thing. I think that little heart she wears over her pussy is adorable. Would you trim my hair like that?"

I was reluctant to break her chain of thought, so I merely nodded.

"Well, then the party broke up. I got fucked by one of the other men -- nothing exciting -- and we all got dressed and left."

"What time was it?"

"Oh, about 1 o'clock, I guess."

"Where did that other $300 come from?"

Bette gave me her mischievous sideways grin. "I get my money the old fashioned way," she said. "I earn it."

"You see, there really was a convention going on, so we went down to the bar to see what we could score. The bar was full of single guys. We sat at a table. Su Lin picked up a guy almost before we sat down. He sent a drink over to our table and asked her to dance. I suppose they danced right up to his room. We didn't see her again.

"Then it was my turn. A nice looking young guy sent a drink over to our table and asked if he could join us. We kidded around for a while, and then he asked us to come upstairs to a party. I probably would have gone for nothing, but Marta told him we would love to except we were working girls, and there would be certain expenses involved.

"That part was OK with him. He asked if $100 apiece would do it? Marta said yes, but only for an hour. The guy said OK, that's cool. Let's go.

"He paid our bar tab and led us across the lobby. Then a guy Marta knew walked up to us and took hold of her arm. They stopped, but we kept walking toward the elevators, then waited for them to catch up. It looked like they were having an argument. Then they turned and walked back into the bar.

"The young guy -- his name was Martin -- had a tight grip on my arm as if I might run away. The next thing I knew, I was in a room full of hunky young guys. There must have been at least ten of them. I still don't know who they were except they were all horny. Evidently, they has sent Martin out to look for women and he found me!

"I told him I wasn't sure I was woman enough to take on a football team, or whatever it was, and even if I was, I sure as hell wouldn't do it for a lousy $100! Those young studs were something else. First they started calling me names. I didn't need that. I went out into the hall. Martin and another young fellow followed me and said, 'Look, this isn't working out like we thought it would. These guys need to get laid, and you look like you could use the money. Between us, we've got $300 Can you give us a party for that?'

"I said, 'Let's see the money' -- you would have been proud of me, Jim -- except I forgot about protection again. I'm sorry about that."

"So am I," I said emphatically. "You'll bring me a dose of something some day." Almost before the words were out of my mouth, I mentally cursed myself for being the rotten pimp I was!

Bette heard it, too, but hers was a whore's reaction. She looked penitent. "I'm really sorry, Jim. I promise I'll do better." Then she brightened, "Anyhow, Martin took up a collection and handed me a fist full of bills. I didn't have time to count it; I just stuffed it in my purse. Then they asked me to do a strip.

"I said, 'OK, but where's the music?' Someone turned on a radio and found a station playing elevator music. I began bumping and grinding, slowly drawing that zipper down. All you could hear over the music was loud breathing. The all had drool on their chins when I slipped an arm out of the dress and gave them a peek at my bra. They began clapping their hands in time with the music. I was beginning to enjoy myself when suddenly, for no special reason, I was on fire!

"I became acutely, hotly aware that I was surrounded be virile, hard young cocks, and I wanted to bathe in their cum. I guess I went a little crazy!

"So did they when they discovered I wasn't wearing panties! I didn't even get my shoes off until later. I suddenly found myself on my back on the floor with a huge hot cock shoved deep into my pussy, and I was trying to pull the rest of him into me. I remember one young guy saying, 'Jesus Christ! Look at her go!' or some such silly thing. My boy grunted and exploded in me. I felt his cock throb as he pumped his cum into me. I was slick with sweat by this time, but was only getting a good start. 

"A second cock slid into me. This one wasn't as big, or maybe the edge was blunted, but I merely went through the motions with this kid. After he came, he was replaced by an older man who said, 'Now, lady, you'll see what a real man can do!' He was probably the team coach or something wanting to show off to his boys because he started off fucking me hard. He was like Jake. He screwed me in a half dozen positions. He even wanted to fuck me in the ass, but I wouldn't let him. Anyhow, I was getting tired. I suppose he wasn't used to fucking in public because he didn't come. Instead, he lost it and fell out.

"Another boy, cock in hand, was already to hop on, but I held up my hand. 'I've got to pee.' Another kid pointed out the bathroom, and I limped in there. I must have sat on the john for five minutes trying to think how I was going to survive the next hour. I finally decided to cool it. I had to calm down. The boys wanted to fuck, fine. Here it is, fellows. Also, I didn't have to do this one kid at a time as long as I had a mouth and two hands.

"I went into the bedroom. 'That floor hurts my back' I said. 'Who's next?' The next guy no sooner got settled between my legs than the coach, or whoever he was, climbed up on the bed, over my head and tried to shove his cock into my mouth. He wasn't very nice about it, and I was tempted to bite him, but I gagged instead and pushed the boy between my knees away. 'What's you do that for?' the kid asked.

"I pointed to the older man. 'Either that jerk-off leaves me alone or I take a walk. He's trying to hurt me.' Martin and another guy said something to the older man. I heard him reply, 'but she's only a cunt -- a whore. What do you care what she thinks?'


"There was more conversation, and finally the asshole left the room. I said, 'OK, fellows, let's go. Who's next?' The boy I had interrupted slid back into place. He wasn't very hard, but I managed to stuff him in. He grew up in a hurry and lasted only about 30 seconds before he popped.

"By then, I had a cock in each hand. I went though those boys twice before I began to wonder if I would be able to walk. 'Enough,' I said. 'The party's over. It's time to go home.' I dragged myself to the bathroom and made what repairs I could, got dressed and bumped into Marta when I got off the elevator. She had been waiting for me. She had a hell of a bruise on her face. Her pimp had wanted her to go to a party he had organized and when she wouldn't, he popped her in the eye. She was scared to go home. She slept in the guest room last night. I hope you don't mind, Jim."

"Where is she now?" I asked.

"Right behind you," Louise answered. "Hello, Jim."



Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 11



Synopsis: Jim has been forced to push Bette into prostitution. She goes reluctantly, but quickly discovers there's real money in sex. She's just made her first really big score, and has brought another prostitute home with her -- who turns out to be Louise!


Working Girls

I whirled. It was Louise! I saw at once that she had changed. She was heavier, had another line or two in her face, and she sported one hell of a black eye. But the real change was in her eyes and the shape of her mouth.

Choking on a sudden rush of emotion, I leaped up and seized her in a firm, loving embrace. In turn, she wrapped her arms tightly around me. We stood, locked in a silent welcome, seemingly for several minutes. Then I released her and stepped back.

"My God," she said shakily, her face working and eyes wet and bright with unshed tears, "and to think I wasn't sure you'd let me in the house or maybe even want to talk to me!"

I felt tears burning behind my eyes, too. I looked at Bette. Her eyes were also brimming. "What a bunch of sentimental fools we are," I said hoarsely, folding Louise into my arms again, this time motioning Bette to join us.

The three of us held each other, hugging and rocking, each of us experiencing floods of silent personal memories and charged emotions.

The initial shock faded. The women sat on the couch, and I slumped in my chair after pulling it close to the couch so the three of us were knee to knee.

I extended my left hand to Louise and my right hand to Bette. I was relieved when Bette, somewhat hesitantly, offered her hand to Louise. We were linked. The women I loved and I were reunited. 

When I felt I could trust my voice, I said to Louise, "First, I want you to tell me who smacked you. I'm going to kill him."

She looked at me and smiled sadly. "You haven't changed at all, have you, Jim? You still think you can solve everyone's problems for them."

"I've changed all right," I said. "And I'm afraid not altogether for the better." I wanted to tell Louise about Steve and Carol and the studio -- and, of course, I had a lot of questions to ask her, but I realized that during these first precious moments I had to be very careful. Things said could have a lasting impact on our future.

"How've you been?" I asked as casually as possible.

"Well, not good," Louise answered. "For one thing, as Bette told you, I'm turning tricks for a living these days, doing what I do best, I suppose," she added with a sad little smile.

"So I understand," I said, dryly. 

"Don't get me wrong," Louise added quickly. "I don't mind the work so much; it's kind of fun. But I don't appreciate the looks I get in hotel lobbies. That bothers me. If you haven't already guessed, I'm edgy right now wondering what you two might be thinking of me."

"I don't know what Bette's told you, but believe me, dear, I'm in no position to be making judgments about anyone else."

"Bette said that you had loosened up a lot." She turned to Bette. "Isn't that how you put it, dear?"

Talk about an understatement! Still, I wasn't ready to let my full weight down.

"What's this `Marta' business?" I asked.

Louise sighed, and looked from me to Bette. "I don't know about you, Bette; maybe you haven't been tricking long enough. But most hookers I know try to keep something about themselves secret. Some lie about their home towns; others hide their families and kids.

"I kept `Louise' away from the pimps and the players and the johns. My name is mine, and I'm not going to share it with anyone except those I love, and those who love me. `Marta' is the party girl. Louise may be a swinger, but she's no whore. Marta is the whore."

That worried me. I'm no psychologist, but I'd had enough flaky clients to realize that Louise's rationalization seemed dangerously similar to a multiple personality disorder. I hoped I was mistaken. It was time to change the subject.

"Look, kids. It's been a long day. I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. Suppose we put some steaks on and pop some potatoes in the micro. And maybe toss a salad?"

Louise and Bette went into the kitchen to prepare our meal. Then I went into the kitchen to fix a drink. But I didn't get very far. Bette and Louise were standing in the middle of the room, locked together, sobbing and crying, patting and comforting each other.

This was no place for me. I quickly poured a drink and returned to the living room. A few minutes later, I went back into the kitchen for another drink.

Louise was now leaning against the sink, sipping a highball. Bette had slipped into one of my shirts, and was seated at the table drinking a glass of rosé. The girls were still red-eyed, but it seemed as if the storm was over for the moment. The brittleness I had felt earlier was gone; Louise seemed more relaxed.

"Do you still like your steak rare?" Louise asked me.

I smiled and nodded. Bette was squeamish about red meat and always wanted the pink cooked out of it. I mixed my drink, and went back to the living room. I thought they might still want some privacy.

Louise had been gone for nearly six months by that time, but I assumed, nevertheless, that she intended to reclaim her position as wife and head of the household. Thus, I was surprised and mildly shocked when, as we were relaxing in the living room after dinner, she said, "Jim, would you mind if I camped in the back bedroom for a week or so until this shiner disappears? It's awfully hard for a hooker with a black eye to get work. And I don't want to go back to Carl. I'm finished with that asshole!"

I didn't know what to say. I opened my mouth, but luckily, Bette guessed what I was about to say, and gave me a quick, preemptory, shake of her head.

So instead of protesting, I merely said, "Mi casa est su casa." Louise smiled, remembering our futile attempt to learn a few Spanish phrases before taking a vacation in Puerto Rico years earlier. 

"You still don't have it right," she said, "but I get the general idea. Thank you, Jim -- and you, too, Bette, especially for taking me under your wing last night."

We watched a little television and then we went to bed. Bette curled up way over on her side of the bed. I rolled over next to her, and whispered, "You could have warned me, you little rat," digging my fingers into the ticklish spot on her ribs.

"Hush," she said, "and get over on your own side. We have company in the other room." 

"Christ, is it possible that she's never heard anyone fuck before?"

"Oh, you're impossible," Bette said. "Come here, you big lummox, I love you."

I luxuriated in her verdant body. She began reciting the things she had done with those college men in a coarse whisper, while running her tantalizing fingers up and down my spine. I contented myself with sucking on one of her remarkable nipples. Then I kissed her stomach and pushed my face between her thighs.

"I want to see if they broke anything," I said, as I pulled gently on her labia with my lips.

"It all seems to be here," I said.

Although her thighs were clamped tightly against my ears, I still heard her giggle. "Let's see how it tastes," I said. "Is that chocolate I taste? Was one of those dudes a black guy?"

"Three of them were black," she said.

"That's what it is, then," I said. "Let's see if they stretched it all out of shape."

I crawled up between her legs and, as usual, she guided the head of my tool into her secret nest. I pushed, but the portals remained closed. I pushed a little harder.

"Ouch," she said, "that hurts. It looks like I'm out of action for a while." She put her hand on me. "Mama has some little tricks she can play. How does my little fellow like this?"

My little fellow disappeared into Bette's mouth. Powerful, suctioning forces were at work, and so was her hand, frantically pumping up and down. I felt a familiar pressure begin to build in my loins, demanding to be released. The pressure had started building when she had met me at the door, wearing nothing but her garter belt and stockings. It had continued to build while she had described her maiden voyage into the world of college boys and sin.

I forgot about Louise for the moment, and tried to picture Bette, crazy in heat, surrounded by massive young erections. I pictured the boys doing a circle jerk on her squirming body.

My seed boiled up my urethra and before she could jerk her head away, it filled her mouth. 

She tried to swallow, but she gagged. She jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom. I could hear her retching into the toilet. Then I heard her rinse her mouth, and felt her crawl back into bed.

"You know what we're going to have to do?" she asked seriously. 

I confessed I didn't.

"Well, if I'm going to get this sore every time I have a gang bang, and I can't suck you off without heaving, then we're going to have to break in my back door."

I love a woman who thinks like that.

The next few days passed swiftly. As her bruises faded, Louise gradually began telling us more about her life with Phil. Then, after dinner on her third evening with us, she told us about her brief movie career.

Louise hadn't known about Phil and Steve's college friendship until Bette told her the previous day. Instead, Phil, that lying bastard, had told her that he had gotten in touch with the studio through a newspaper ad.

"Frankly," she said, "I wasn't at all keen on becoming a porno star -- imagine what our friends would say if they knew -- but what choice did I have? Sure, I know. I could have left him, but I couldn't. Not then. I was still too infatuated with his cock."

She shuddered and scrunched her eyes shut while she gritted her teeth. "You can be sure that's where my affection began and ended. So we went out to the studio, and moved into one of the rooms in the new wing. Phil had quit his job (or had been fired, I was never sure which) and we spent a solid month out there making that flick. 

"I might as well tell you the rest of it," she added, more to herself than to us. "Bette knows that Phil can be a real pain in the ass in more ways than one. We had moved back into town by then. One day, he came home early and caught me screwing the meter man."

She paused, then added thoughtfully, "I mean, shit. The man meant nothing to me. I can't even remember his name, if I ever knew it." 

I couldn't resist it. "Just another boy-toy, right?"

She didn't find my comment humorous. "Exactly," she said. "But Phil went crazy. I should have expected it, because earlier, when we were making the movie and the script called for me to fuck a couple of other guys, one of them just a kid, Phil threw a real hissy! In fact, Carol almost had to rewrite the script, but Steve got him under control. So I already knew what a mean, jealous, son-of-a-bitch he really was."

Bette rolled her eyes up. "Amen," she said. 

"So the next thing I knew," Louise added, "I'm out on the street sitting on a suitcase full of my clothes."

"I was some kind of mad, as you can imagine. I had a couple of hundred bucks of movie money left, so I got a cab and went downtown. I checked into a cheap hotel, met Carl in the hotel bar, and here I am, right back where I started."

"But why didn't you call me?" I asked.

Her eyes were dry and a little hard as she stared at me. "You really don't know me very well, do you, Jim." It was a statement, not a question.

"I know it was foolish, but let's be honest. What would you or our friends like the Morrisons have thought if I had to admit I had gone flat on my ass?"

"Yes, but at least . . ."

Louise didn't let me finish. ". . .at least I wouldn't be peddling my ass for eating money. Is that what you were going to say?"

She let it all out; the bitterness and hurt, anger and, I suspect, sorrow. "Believe me, Jim, there are worse things than getting paid to fuck. Isn't that right, Bette?"

Bette nodded in vigorous agreement. "At least, whores get to chose who they fuck. Wives and girl friends don't."

It was a hell of a story. But the biggest surprise was that I couldn't find it in me to care very much. Search as I might, frankly, I was unable to detect any real feeling for her other than pity. In view of my booze soaked ruminations the night before, especially after the shock of our emotionally burdened meeting wore off, I found myself wondering if the emotion I thought I had felt was genuine or if I was romantically in love with a Louise who had never existed except in my imagination? 

We sat quietly, each thinking about Louise's experiences and how her unexpected return might impact our lives. Then I got up and fixed all hands a night cap. Bette and I went to bed.

Bette's equipment had recovered. She sat cross legged on the bed, wearing a silly, frilly night gown, grinning at me while I carefully draped my pants over a chair to prevent them from wrinkling.

"Want to see my sword swallowing act?" Bette asked.

"Sure," I said.

She reached into the bedside stand drawer and took out the biggest, ugliest, plastic dildo I had ever seen. Making an oval of her lips, she delicately took that monstrous thing in her mouth, working it back and forth to get it wet, then she abruptly rolled on her back, raised her knees, and spread her legs wide apart.

I had an unobstructed view as she pushed the wet dildo into her womanhood, jiggling it back and forth. The thing penetrated deeper on each down stroke, until it was completely buried in her body. 

"Not bad, huh?" she asked. "I was dry, too. Well, almost dry -- but I had it all in me in 30 seconds. Louise showed me how to do that this afternoon. She said there was no reason, even in a college gang bang, for me to get as sore as I did. You want to take my friend's place?" She pulled it out.

I don't know what's so special about watching a woman shove a piece of plastic into her body, but I found it exciting, nevertheless. I lowered my shorts, and pulled my under shirt over my head. 

She pulled her nightie over her head and began rubbing her breasts against my chest. "Does that feel good?" She was suddenly serious. "Hold me, Jim," she said. "Hold me tight." I took her in my arms, enjoying, as usual, the feel of her firm, unfettered breasts against my bare chest. 

She shivered as she rolled us over, so she was on top. She lifted her head and stared into my eyes. "Are we doing the right thing, Jim? Am I?"

"What's the matter? Are Louise's experiences bothering you?" I asked.

"I think so," she replied. "That and a few other things."

"What's that, dear?"

"Well, you know. The way people treat working girls. I don't want to be treated that way. I'm afraid you might start acting that way."

"I take it you've been talking to Louise."

"Well, yes."

"Look, sweetheart," I said, "it was wrong of me to get us into this fix in the first place. And it was wonderful of you to try to help out. That's water under the bridge." I paused for a moment, trying to think of a way to reassure her. Then I remembered something.

"Wait here, honey. I have something for you." I got out of bed and went to the closet where my suit jacket was hanging. I reached into the inner breast pocket and retrieved an envelope.

"Here," I said, handing it to her, "this is yours."

She opened the envelope and read the note in it aloud:

To whom it may concern: 

Please be advised that on the June 7, 1995, I, James Bromfield did urge and solicit Bette Cox to commit acts of prostitution with sundry unidenti fied persons. 

 (signed) James Bromfield Given under my hand and seal this 18th day of June, 1995.

(signed) Notary Public 

Bette looked at me. Tears were in her eyes. "Thank you, my darling, thank you," she whispered, wrapping her arms around me and smothering my face under a thousand love kisses.

"You did it. You put it in writing. I feel so much better," she said. "I didn't think you had the nerve. This proves that we're in this together! Oh, thank you, darling, for proving me wrong!"

Taking my silence for assent, she continued, "I want to make you as happy as you've made me." Then she fastened her opened moist mouth on mine. Her tongue began its wicked little sliding motion against my lips. We were so engrossed in each other that we failed to hear Louise enter the room.

"Is this a private party, or can anyone play?"

Bette raised her head. She was still holding the note. She held it out to Louise. "See what Jim gave me!"

Louise held the paper to the light, squinting as she read it. Then she turned to me, and with a half smile, said, "It looks like I underestimated you again, Jim. Congratulations."

While I was tucking that comment in the back of my mind, Louise slipped her robe off and slithered into the bed she knew so well. I was mesmerized once again by the sight of her magnificent pear-shaped breasts.

They were even more beautiful than I remembered.

"Don't I get a kiss too?" Louise asked.

Bette wrapped her arms around Louise, welcoming her into our bed. I embraced the two of them, and we laid quietly for a few minutes, savoring the merging of our physical and emotional selves. Then Louise nudged my erection with her hip. "Ummm. That feels like an old friend. Can I kiss it hello?"

Not waiting for a reply, she slid down until her face was against my crotch. She kissed my thighs, then took me in her hand, and slipped it into her mouth. 

Then, I knew Louise was home. Her familiar, practiced lips and tongue began their age-old ritual. Bette raised up on her elbow and watched Louise for a minute. Then she leaned over me and began to nibble on one of my nipples. I felt her hand caressing Louise's face and lips, and my rigid cock as it slid in and out of Louise's warm, wet mouth.

"Don't finish him," she said to Louise. "I've got an important fuck coming, and I need it now."

Even though I was awash in the sea of emotion and sensation that was sloshing over me, I heard the plea in Bette's voice. By a gargantuan effort of will, I reclaimed myself from Louise's grasping mouth, and sliding between Bette's spread thighs, I thrust myself deep between her legs.

Louise pressed her lips to Bette's while she ran her hand over Bette's breast, taking her nipple between thumb and forefinger, and teasing it into a tiny erection. Bette closed her eyes, concentrating on the sensations building in her body.

Then Louise stretched her upper body over Bette's and rubbed her nipple against Bette's.

Bette stiffened, and I felt the tremors begin. Suddenly her thighs were quivering as her stomach muscles began their familiar undulation. 

"Put your fingers in me," Louise ordered. I'm not sure which of us she had in mind, but I reached under Louise and parted her nether lips with my fingers. She began to hunch frantically against my hand while Bette screamed, "Oh God, I'm commmingggg!"

I stopped moving in Bette, wondering if I could stave off the eruption that was numbing my balls. I reviewed baseball scores, tried to think of any interesting television I had seen lately; anything other than what was happening at the moment.

Meanwhile, both women were spasming. I rode out the storm in Bette, and when her waves began to subside, I pulled out of her and rolled Louise over on her back. Louise realized what I wanted to do, and she quickly spread her legs and tilted her pelvis up to receive my initial thrust.

I slammed into her as hard as I could. It felt as if I were buried in hot molasses. That one thrust triggered another orgastic tidal wave in Louise. Bette was still convulsing, too. She stuffed Louise's fingers into her vagina, and rocketed through still another climax. I was beginning to wonder if there would be an end to this, but Louise found a way. Her educated tunnel began milking my manhood, and almost instantly, I felt the sweet agony of my male seed gushing up my tubes, and spurting into her womb. 




Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 11



When she had felt my member begin its telltale throbbing, a third climax, not so intense, gripped her.

Slowly, the fire storm subsided. We lay in a great disorderly tangle of sweaty arms, legs, breasts and bodies. Something wonderful had just happened. None of us wanted to break the spell. We must have lain there fifteen minutes, I was still buried to the hilt in Louise, sharing the intimate afterglow of good sex. 

Finally Louise stirred. "Someone's on my leg," she said. "I think the blood supply is cut off." It was me. I pulled back, and my soft member plopped out of her, and made a slimy trail across her leg as I moved.

"Yuuk," she said. "Wipe that thing off before you go flinging it around." I bent over and kissed her. "If you were as good as you think you are, it would have come out of you slick and clean," I said.

Bette jumped up and went to the bathroom. When she came back, it was Louise's turn. She cupped her delta with her hand to prevent our mixed juices from dripping on the rug as she ran into the bath.

Bette curled up in my arms. "A girl needs to feel loved and wanted after she's been tricking all night," she said. "You might as well get used to taking care of your stable of ladies," she murmured sleepily. She closed her eyes and went to sleep.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling. Is that what I have become? I wondered. A whore master?

Louise came out of the bathroom. "Would you mind if I slept here?" she asked.

I held out my other arm. She turned off the light and snuggled in next to me, laying her head on my arm. In moments, she was also asleep, while I continued staring into the dark.

Steve called me at the office the next day, Monday, and asked if I could make a meeting on Friday afternoon. "If you can, come up early and have lunch. Then you can watch a scene for the next movie being filmed, OK?"

I looked at my desk calendar. It was clear for Friday. 

"OK," I said, "unless something comes up, I'll be there." I marked `Studio' across the page.

That evening, Louise and Bette collaborated on dinner. While I would never say this to Bette, Louise was the better cook. I immediately recognized her meatloaf. 

After dinner, Louise joined me in the living room while Bette piled dishes in the washer. "Am I in the way, here, Jim?" she asked, her eyes and lovely face solemn.

"I don't think so," I said. "Have you asked Bette?"

"I'm asking you."

"Well, I just told you. Why?"

She wrinkled her nose in that little girl fashion I had found so appealing. "Bette asked me to stay," she said.

That didn't surprise me. I had almost expected her to. "If you do stay," I said, "you must understand that things between us are different now."

She sighed, "I know Jim. And I'm sorry. But I've got to be honest with you. As much as I regret that and the hurt I caused you, if I had it to do over again, I would. That's how powerfully moved I was."

I nodded, silently reliving those painful moments when Louise had left. "What do you plan to do?" I asked.

"If I stay, I'll pull my share of the load around here. Housekeeping, cooking, all that sort of thing."

"Yes, but are you planning to get a job?"

"I've got a job."

"You mean you intend to continue tricking?"

"Sure. Why not? I know the ropes and it's something I'm good at. Most the time, I don't even mind it, and some of the time I have a real ball. Plus, I still get a kick out of being paid for it."

She looked at me thoughtfully, and smiled a bit wryly. "As long as it's true confession time, I might as well tell you that you scored big on me with that note."

"I don't understand."

"I don't know whether I should tell you this, but Bette probably will, and I know it will sound better coming from me." She paused to take a deep breath. "We had talked about setting up an apartment; maybe even getting a third girl in with us. I almost had her talked into it, when good old honest Jim comes blundering in with that note." She smiled a bit ruefully. "I couldn't get her out of here now with a stick of dynamite! Which means that we now have to work around that problem."

I was mildly shocked to learn that Louise had gone behind my back, but I had to appreciate the fact that she was honest enough to tell me about it. Overshadowing everything else, however, was the unpleasant news that the two women intended to continue tricking. "Hey, wait a minute! You can't use this apartment, if that's what you have in mind!" I said firmly. "That's completely out of the question."

"It's my apartment, too," Louise reminded me.

"I don't care. I can't stop you from turning tricks, if that's what you want to do, but I can insist that you take your trade somewhere else."

"Look," Louise said patiently, "You wouldn't even have to know about it. Besides, it's a hell of a lot safer tricking here than it would be in some stranger's hotel room. Some of these men are dangerous."

I knew she was right, but God damn! You have to draw the line some place. Besides, I knew it was almost inevitable that sooner or later, one or both of them would be busted. When that happened, my license to practice law could very well be out the window, and I might be lucky to avoid a jail sentence for keeping a disorderly house.

In other words, this was one case where I clearly had everything to lose and nothing to gain. Any sensible person in my shoes would have put his foot down, and I know that's what I should have done.

But I was not a sensible person. I was drunk with the continuous sexual stimulation provided by the two women, and blinded by the endless titillation their activities provided. Also, I cared deeply for -- perhaps even loved -- both women and I would not, could not, expose them to the many inherent dangers and risks that threaten working women on the streets. 

"I think you should rent an apartment somewhere, like you intended to do in the first place," I said.

Louise shook her head. "Two young women are always suspect," she said. "The landlord would watch us like a hawk, and sooner or later, either we'd be out or he'd be in business with us. So would the beat cop, the taxi drivers who steer trade to us, and probably even the newsboy on the corner. First thing you know, we'd have a payroll like General Motors. We'd be flat on our backs working for everybody else." She paused for breath, while I marveled at her tenacity.

"I can't believe you!" I said. "You're unreal!" I insisted that Louise and Bette practice their trade elsewhere, but even as I argued with her, I was privately rationalizing that even though society defines prostitution as a crime, the trade was relatively benign as long as it was sheltered from peripheral criminal activities and conducted as carefully as Su Lin had conducted it with me.

In other words, to my mind, sex workers merely provided a service; a service that many men (and not a few women) found necessary, and for which they were willing to pay.

Not realizing she had an important silent ally in the back of my mind, Louise sighed and patiently tried again. "OK," she said, "here's another scenario. The housewife hooker. There's lots of them out there, making the car payment or buying a new refrigerator with their pussies. You'd be surprised."

I shook my head. "Nothing surprises me," I said, "But how would you work that?" Before the words were out of my mouth, I cursed myself for giving her the opening.

Louise grinned her `gotcha' grin, and continued, "Same deal, only you're the husband, very jealous, and you don't know anything about it."

"God dammit!" I said, trying to regain lost ground, "that's as bad as straight tricking! How many times do I have to tell you: you're not to use this apartment!"

Louise sighed and looked at Bette. "Do you want to tell him, or shall I?"

"Tell me what?" I asked with a sinking feeling that I didn't really want to know the answer.

"Bette and I each turned two tricks here this after noon," Louise said calmly. "No big deal, $50 a pop, except one guy tipped me a $20."

"WHAT?!!!" I had to sit down. My life was spinning out of control! "What did you do? Put a sign in the window? Walk naked in the street? Pass out handbills?"

"Don't be silly," Bette said. "Louise just put a little ad in the personals column of the paper."

"Where? Show me," I said, suddenly panicked that the police were only minutes away from the door as we spoke. 

Louise silently handed me the paper. A three-line ad in the middle of the column was circled. 

Bored friendly housewives

seek afternoon fun. Call

555-2934 daytime only

"Oh my God," I said. "That's our telephone number! Couldn't you at least have gotten a new number?" With those fateful words, I fell right into Louise's little trap.

Louise smiled triumphantly. "Why?" she calmly asked. "Who is going to recognize that number? And if they do, why are they reading the personals column?

"If they're looking for pussy, as far as I'm concerned, they need look no further. I don't mind fucking your friends. I used to fuck them for free, all the time. Besides, I don't have any friends anymore. The only friends working girls have are other working girls. And their man, of course." She smiled sweetly at me.

Two things about Louise hadn't changed at all. One was her stubbornness, the other, her ability to put me in a corner. She made it look so easy.

"You see," Louise explained, "all we needed was a little push to get started. That ad will get things started. Those guys will be back. And they'll tell their friends, and the first thing you know, we'll be on easy street." She leered at me. Then, seeing the expression on my face, her tone abruptly changed.

"Oh, come on," she said, sharply, "for Christ's sake, Jim, lighten up. The sky isn't falling. And if you're worrying about dirty sheets, we've already changed the beds."

"I'm worrying about a hell of a lot more than dirty sheets," I said bitterly. "I'm worrying about my license. I'm worrying about staying out of jail."

"Don't be silly," she retorted. 

Bette said, "We haven't told you the best news of all."

There was more? I sat down. "What's that?" I asked.

"Sandy came over today."

"Not while you girls were entertaining, I hope."

"You got it," Louise said dryly.

"Oh, my God! What happened?" I asked.

"Well, Bette was in the back bedroom with her john," she said, "and I had my lad in the other bedroom, when the doorbell rang.

"I wouldn't have answered it, except I thought it was another john, so I threw on a robe and went to the door. It was Sandy. She had stopped to have a cup of coffee with Bette. Needless to say, she was floored when she saw me! I didn't know what to do.

"If I hadn't had a naked john waiting for me in the bedroom, naturally I would have invited her in. But while I was stalling, trying to think of some way to get rid of her, my john came out of the room, bareassed naked with his cock in his hand. I almost laughed at her expression when she realized it wasn't you."

"Very funny," I said.

"Well, it was. I asked Sandy to wait in the living room; that I wouldn't be long. She got a funny look on her face and asked if she could watch. I asked my customer, and he thought it was a great idea."

"So the three of you went into the bedroom?"

"That's right. I jumped on the bed with my john. while Sandy sat on the arm chair in the corner. I was busy with him, of course, but I sneaked peeks at her from time to time to see how she was taking this.

"She's pretty cool. She sat there like she was in church for the first five minutes or so. Then, as my lad was going down on me, she began rubbing her thighs together. The skirt on her little sundress kept working its way up, and soon I saw her panties. After my john climbed into the saddle, and I had him working, I turned so I could watch Sandy. She saw me looking at her. By that time, her skirt was bunched in her lap, and she had pulled her panty leg open so she could slip her fingers into her cunt. I was getting hotter from watching her that from the poking my john was giving me!

"As soon as her right hand was working in her box, she reached inside the top of her dress and began playing with her tits. As I said, I was really turning on from watching this. Of course, my fool of a john thought it was his wonderful cock -- actually, it wasn't bad -- and he really began going to town! Poor Sandy had her dress off her shoulders by this time and was naked to the waist. My boy poured about a gallon of his jism into me. Sandy ran into the front room before he saw her, and she stayed in the kitchen until he left. 

"She didn't know Bette was tricking in the back bedroom. As soon as the door closed, she threw her arms around me and gave me a terrific welcome home kiss. Then she practically dragged me into the bedroom, and after pulling her dress over her head, pushed me back, crawled between my legs and began sucking that john's come out of me.

"That girl licked my pussy so clean, it was practically squeaky when the doorbell rang again. In the meanwhile, Bette's had finished her trick, so she answered the door, and took the new john into the back bedroom to show him was a friendly housewife does for fun on a slow Tuesday afternoon."

"God," Bette said, "if I had known Sandy was in there polishing Louise's cunt, I'd have told the new trick to go fuck himself. I would have been in there with them!"

I had begun to breathe normally again. "How did you explain all this to her?"

Louise looked at me pityingly. "You men are such children about some things. There was no point in trying to hide things. We told her the score. It took an hour, but I finally got around to telling her how Bette and I had met, how my pimp had beat me up and how Bette had dragged me home to heal. I also made it clear you didn't have any idea what was going on, which was the simple truth."

"How'd she take it? What did she say?"

Louise grinned. I knew that self-congratulatory grin well. "It was short and sweet: She asked if she could join us? But then she added that she only wanted to suck cocks. She went on to telling me how you had turned her on to swallowing a man's cum; how much she preferred that to actual fucking. 'Besides,' she said, 'I wouldn't feel so much like I was cheating on Jeff if I only sucked them off.' I told her that she was made for the business and that the johns would love her."

"Sandy is now a full fledged partner," Bette added. "You didn't turn her out; we did."

"You mean . . ."

"Exactly," Bette said. "She spent the rest of the afternoon here. She wants to specialize in topless blow jobs. The two tricks she turned -- one of them a guy who had already fucked Louise -- said she gave the best head he had ever had."

I was terribly conflicted which resulted from the combined shock and excitement I felt. My sedate apartment has been turned into a whorehouse. My mind literally whirled from a maelstrom of ideas. My first impulse was to run away and hide -- yet I also wanted to plunge my manhood into the very center of this rich cornucopia of willing - nay, eager - female flesh that surrounded me. I was especially enchanted by the vision of a slender topless ash blonde fellatrice on her knees with my cock in her hot, wet mouth.

Forgetting our earlier argument about using the apartment for this purpose at all, I asked, "How much are you charging her?"

"Fifty percent," Louise said. Any other place would charge her sixty percent or more." Practical Louise added, "This is a business, Jim. Sandy had to understand that even though we're all friends, there are certain business expenses . . ."

"She went for it? Just like that?"

Louise laughed. "Of course. Nobody twisted her arm. Of course, she's not as free as we are. She has to get a baby sitter, and if that gets too expensive we may have to increase her share. But after watching that girl work, I honestly believe she would pay us to let her suck cocks."

We went to bed together again that night, but oddly, none of us was particularly randy. I laid on my back. Bette was curled within my right arm, and Louise's head rested on my left arm. It was becoming easier to forget that she had ever been away. However, I soon turned on my right side and cuddled Bette. Louise had also turned so her magnificent breasts were resting warmly against my back.

At breakfast, Louise looked at me. "I feel like going downtown tonight. How about it, Jim? Want to drive your stable to work tonight?"

"I have a court date in the morning."

"That's OK," Louise said. "We can get a cab home when we're ready."

I didn't argue. Actually, truth be told, I was looking forward to seeing them in action.

The girls were bathed, powdered and perfumed when I got home that evening. They both had plastic curlers in their hair, were wearing sexless bathrobes and were shuffling around in heelless slippers. After supper, I loaded the dishes in the washer, then went into the bedroom to watch the girls getting ready for their night's work. 

This show was too good to miss. I walked across the carpet and sat quietly on the corner of the bed. Bette was sitting on the boudoir stool in front of the dressing table, applying her makeup. Louise was standing behind her arranging Bette's hair. Louise was still wearing her scruffy bathrobe, but Bette was nude except for her lacy black garter belt, dark patterned stockings, and panties. The sight of her naked little body never failed to arouse me, and almost automatically, I felt a familiar distant ache begin in my loins as I admired the exquisite curve of her taut breasts, and the sweet line from the small of her back over the symmetry of her buttocks, down the backs of her long thighs.

The women soon traded places. Louise tossed her robe on the bed, gave me a wink, and sat on the stool Bette had just left. Again, I was struck by their physical differences. Her breasts were much heavier than Bette's, almost pendulous, but they were saved from looking gross by their exquisite pear shape.

Bette's body was half in the shadow as she worked on Louise's hair. I watched Louise's breasts sway in the mirror as she moved her arms while applying her makeup. The two nearly naked women were beautiful to watch as they helped one another. A part of my mind longed for the skill of an artist -- or at least a photographer -- to record the beauty of the moment. Another, less noble, need was reflected in my tingling groin. To put the matter bluntly, watching those two women prepare for "work" was making me horny as hell.

There was no use appealing to them for relief. They weren't about to waste an hour's preparation for a five-minute quickie. I could just forget it.

Of course, I could always jack-off; most likely that's exactly what they would tell me to do. And, like most men I did exactly that from time to time, even though my generation was cruelly conditioned by parents, preachers and scout masters, who foolishly told us that if, in our steamy adolescence, we played with ourselves, we would unquestionably face terrible consequences. It wasn't just the preachers or scout masters who were guilty of this nonsense. Fifty years ago, the Navy was so horrified by the prospect of lusty young sailors and marines committing "self abuse," the Navy's euphemism for masturbation, that it was specifically prohibited and anyone caught in the act was subject to a sentence not exceeding 15 years at hard labor in the Naval penitentiary.

Notwithstanding this massive negative pressure, nature's was greater. Man and boy, we all jacked off, but we did it secretly, and in great fear of discovery. I would have gone into the bathroom to relieve the growing pressure in my loins, but since I was scheduled to take the girls downtown almost immediately, I was going to have to wait for the relief I craved.

Instead, I wandered back into the living room and tried to concentrate on a news magazine while I waited for the women to finish dressing. It was nearly nine before they emerged from the bedroom. Louise wore a low cut, loosely fitted red mini dress that was decorated with a wide sash. The hem of her dress ended just slightly above mid-thigh. Louise also wore her fake pearls.




Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 11



Bette's dress was also very short. She had selected the tight white knit she had worn to our first party at Satin Studios. Again, the dress fit her so snugly that it might as well have been painted over her breasts. Her nipples practically stuck through the material. The only underwear line I could detect -- and I looked very closely -- came, I thought, from a garter belt and snaps on her hose. She also wore a necklace of dark beads.

All the way downtown, the girls maintained a lively chatter that betrayed their nervousness. Of course, they didn't know what real nervousness was. The most they faced was a possible fine. God alone knew what was in store for me! Yet the compulsion rooted between my legs was so great that I was still willing to risk everything to maintain the illicit thrills I was experiencing. I was learning that sex can as addicting as any street drug. I had become, in truth, a sex junkie. 

I let the girls out at the entrance to the same hotel where we had found Su Lin, then drove around to find a parking place. Then I returned to the hotel and went into the bar to watch my girls at work, but I was too late. As I pushed open the swinging doors leading into the bar, I met a young couple coming out. I had never seen the guy before, but Bette was hanging onto his arm. She had her first trick of the evening. We passed without a flicker of recognition between us, and I went on into the bar and found a table where I could watch Louise operate without being obvious about it. I ordered a bourbon/water as I watched her sitting at the bar next to a man wearing a business suit. He appeared to be middle-aged.

I couldn't see their faces or hear their conversation, but I saw her lean against him a couple of times and touch his wrist. Soon, they picked up their drinks and moved to a table directly in front of me. If Louise saw me, like Bette, she ignored me. She crossed her legs and her skirt obediently slipped just above the tops of her stockings. A narrow strip of white skin appeared. She apparently apologized to her john, thereby calling attention to her thigh. She made a pretense of pulling it down, but when she had finished, mysteriously, it had crept higher.

Then she dropped her cigarette lighter. I'm sure her new friend would have been happy to pick it up for her, but I'm equally sure he was pleased when she decided to retrieve it herself, because when she bent over, the front of her dress gaped open, giving him a double barrelled view of her chest, probably all the way down to her navel.

The poor guy never had a chance. Within five minutes, Louise and her friend were heading for the door. Knowing the girls would now have cab fare, I decided to go home. Sadly, that empty apartment and vacant bathroom now seemed like my best and only hope. Just as I was summoning the waitress to for my bill, I heard a familiar cheery voice behind me say, "Hi sailor. Going to be in town long?" It was Su Lin.



Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 12



Synopsis:

Tonight, the girls have gone downtown to try their luck. Jim followed them into the hotel and watched as they picked up their first customers of the night. Meanwhile, someone was standing behind Jim.

Chapter 12: The Virgin Stripper

Su Lin stood behind me, a happy, welcoming smile on her face. She looked good. The form fitting red minidress she wore complemented her honey complexion, vivid makeup and black hair. I invited her to sit down and signalled to the waitress.

"I'm glad to see you again," she said. "Are you going to become one of my regulars?"

"I don't know," I said. "I guess it depends."

"On what?"

"On you," I said. "Did you call the studio?" 

"Yes, I did," she replied. "I talked to a woman named Carol. I told her what you said, and she invited us to a party. It sounds pretty wild, I don't know. . ."

"Did you ask Stick?" 

"Yes. He was sort of bummed. I guess he figured they wanted a cripple around just to make the place look good in case it got raided or something."

"Is there any way I could talk to him?"

She looked at me for a moment. I tried to guess what she was thinking. Then she said, "I suppose it couldn't hurt. Why don't we get a room and give him a call?"

"This must be a slow night?"

"No, it's early." She gestured around the room at the dozen or so solitary drinkers sitting at scattered tables and the four customers sitting at the bar. "These are traveling salesmen on a tight budget," she said. "The party crowd won't come in until around midnight."

"So you've got some time to kill." I said. 

She smiled. "I guess you could put it that way."

I shrugged. My ladies were getting screwed; why shouldn't I? Su Lin would be a hell of an improvement over my right fist. "OK," I said, "I'll be right back."

I went out to the desk and checked in. Then I went back to the bar and told Su Lin the room number. 

She nodded. "OK, honey, I'll be right up. I want to tell Bob where I'll be in case another regular wants me."

It was obvious that she still didn't trust me. The part about letting Bob the bellman know where she would be true, but it was for her protection, not because of pending business. I wondered briefly if Louise was also in business with Bob. If not, I was sure she soon would be; Bette, too.

I went up to the room, and took off my jacket, tie, and shoes. Then I stretched out on the double bed to wait for Su Lin. As I lay there, I reflected that my two girls were also stretched out on unknown beds in this or similar hotels nearby.

Luckily, I didn't have to wait long. If she had given me more time to brood, I might very well have pulled up stakes and gone home. 

I heard a soft tap on the door, and quickly opened it. Su Lin slipped in and closed the door behind her. 

"Jim," she began tentatively, "there are just a couple of things . . ."

At least she remembered my name. But she wasn't yet passing out free samples. I took out my wallet, and handed her a $50 bill. "Is that OK?"

She looked unhappy. Clearly it wasn't what she had expected, but she nodded. "Do you still want to call Stick?" she asked.

"Yes"

"OK." She wrote the number down on a piece of hotel stationary.

I dialed the number.

"Hello?" It was a man's voice.

"Hi," I said, hoping my voice exuded confidence and charm. "Is this Stick?"

"Who wants to know?"

"I'm the guy who told Su Lin about the movie deal. She said you weren't too hot on the idea, so I thought I'd give you a call and see if I could answer any questions you might have."

"Is she there?" 

I coughed to cover my hesitation. How do you answer a question like that? I wrote on the notepad, `Does he know you're here?' Su Lin shrugged. Suddenly, I had another thought about something I should have asked her earlier. "Excuse me, Stick," I said, deliberately making my voice croak. "Some beer just went down my Sunday throat." I made throat clearing sounds as I scribbled on the pad `Does he know you're pregnant?' She nodded. 

I decided to play it safe. "I'm OK, now, Stick. Yeh, she's here." 

"Tell her to go in the other room. I don't want her to hear this."

"OK," I said, just a minute. I put my hand over the mouth piece and said to Su Lin, "He wants you to go in the bathroom."

I waited five seconds. "OK, Stick. She's gone."

"OK. Now I don't know you, or anything about you; except that my wife is fucking you. That part doesn't bother me much. What does bother me is that she's carrying our baby with her while she supports us doing the only thing she's really good at.

"Every time she walks out the door, she's putting our baby's life on the line. That's the only baby I'm ever going to have. You see what I'm saying? Naturally, I haven't told her any of this; it's a tough enough life for her without me unloading on her. Understand? 

"Now, about this movie deal. You got her all excited about that. I sort of like the idea, too. No more heavy tricking, no more late hours. Perfect. Except for one thing." Stick's voice dropped an octave and suddenly became harsh.

"I think that movie stuff is bullshit. I think you guys are just lookin' for a party girl to give you some free tail. You also want a freak over there. That's me, the man who fucks with his tongue. That's why I'm bummed!"

Now I understood why Stick felt bitter. I sympathized more than he knew. It must be a terrible blow to a man's pride to be forced to live on his wife's earnings as a prostitute through, as he saw it, no fault of his own. I wondered what he would have said had he known what I had done to Bette? 

"Stick -- do you mind me calling you that? -- I see your point, and I can't say I blame you. In your shoes, I probably wouldn't trust me, either." I paused. "Now, listen. As I understand it, Su Lin talked to Carol Rollins. Carol, her husband, Steve, and I own this movie studio. We are also very active swingers. As a matter of fact, I met them at the Ten/Thirty Club. You know what that is."

"Yeh," he said noncommittally.

"The Rollins live at the studio, which is over in Oregon, out in the country. Every couple of weeks, more or less, they throw a two or three day swing out there. There's lots of fresh air, booze and more good looking, world-class nooky than you can imagine.

"We like to see our prospective talent in action, and the party is one way to do that. There are always the obvious questions, such as, `Can she get along with other people?' `Does she drink too much?' `Is she a doper?' And, of course, there's the $64 question: `Can she act?'

"I don't know your wife very well," I went on, "but she seems friendly."

"I'll say," her husband interjected dryly.

"I've seen her take a drink," I said, "but not much. I don't think she takes dope, does she? And I know for damn sure she's a good actress."

That got a low chuckle from Stick, and a different reaction from Su Lin, who had taken off her dress and bra, and was leaning over, her soft breasts and brown nipples hanging down, as she pulled her panties down, exposing her neatly trimmed bush. When she heard me praise her acting ability, she stuck her tongue out at me. I had touched a nerve.

"Well, maybe you're right," Stick said slowly.

I interrupted him. "Look, just to prove I'm telling the truth, I'm going to take a chance on you guys. I'm going to give Su Lin a personal check for $200. If the party disappoints you, you won't be out anything. In other words, I'm betting $200 you'll show up. On the other hand, if things turn out like I said, you pay the $200 back, your call. What could be fairer than that?"

There was a long pause at the other end while Stick reviewed my offer. At last, he said, "OK; I mean, what the hell? We won't know until we try, will we? When's the next party?"

"A week from Friday," I said. 

"OK," he said. "We don't have wheels, but if we can bum a ride, we'll go. I wouldn't mind a little strange stuff, myself."

We hung up, and I turned to a smiling Su Lin. She had stripped the covers off the bed and was laying flat on her back, legs spread, fingers idly petting her trimmed pussy hair and stroking her vulva. "Hurry," she said, "I'm all ready for you."

I stripped off my clothes. Watching her undress while I talked to her husband, had caused my cock to stiffen, especially after all the sexual tension I had experienced earlier in the evening. Waving it at her, I asked, "Where's his raincoat?"

"I make an exception for special friends," she said. "Come here, you wonderful man and shove that great big hard thing into my poor thirsty pussy."

I love it when they talk dirty. So does my cock. At first, I thought she was just in a hurry, but I learned better as she guided me into her depths. My little soldier slid all the way to the bottom as if it was greased with warm butter. Su Lin was more than ready. She was on the edge of an explosive orgasm.

She wrapped her slender legs around my waist. "Lift me and put a pillow under my ass," she said, her black eyes glittering up at me. "I'm going to give you the fuck of your life!"

She started bucking under me, rocking her pelvis back and forth, and from side to side, as I drove my raging sword into the depths of her now somewhat larger belly. "I hope your little pal doesn't mind," I grunted as I strained to shove more and more of myself into her clasping body. 

For a few moments, the rhythmic creaking of the bed, the sharp slapping sound caused by our colliding bodies and the slap of my scrotum against her bottom, and random animal grunts from both of us were the only sounds in the room. 

She had unwrapped her legs and her knees were bent, her feet flat on the bed for greater leverage as she matched me, lift for thrust, as she struggled to gain the greatest possible sensation from the pounding I was giving her.

"Put my legs on your shoulders," she panted, "I want to shove myself up so you can get your balls inside!"

The sweat was beginning to run down my back and drip on the bed. Su Lin was also slick with perspiration.

I was a madman, determined to skewer that woman on my rampant tumescence. She suddenly stiffened, and an eerie wail began issuing from deep inside her. She threw her arms around her legs and my neck and pulled me tight against her. Then she stopped moving and slightly arched her back. I saw the veins in her neck bulge, and she seemed to be holding her breath. A bright flush spread across her chest, neck and face.

That wail, which had stopped temporarily, began anew, much louder. I felt her contractions begin, and I lost control. Hours of sexual frustration, combined with this recent stimulation, forced squirt after squirt of my seed into her most secret parts. 

She continued her involuntary twitching and spasming for another two or three minutes as she came down from that great plateau. Finally, she opened her eyes and looked up at me. "Whew. Let my legs down," she said. Then, more comfortable, she grinned up at me. "Do you think that was an act?"

I was still panting, too. "No, I don't," I gasped, "If it was, the Oscars are going to the wrong people."

"Well, this is fun and all, but I have a living to make. First, though, I've got to take a shower. Get off of me."

I rolled off her leg. She stood up rather shakily. "I need a drink," she said. "Be a love. While I'm in the shower, order a daiquiri for me, would you?"

I ordered two of them. The drinks arrived while she was in the shower, and when she came out, her frosty glass was waiting.

She shook her head. "God, you've made a mess of me. But if you can get me into the movies, even as a porno star, it will be worth it." She patted her belly. "Junior is really beginning to show. Two tricks asked me about it this week. He's terrible for business."

I nodded. "When you get so they can't use you in a movie, there's another job on the set you might be interested in," I said. "They call them `fluff' girls. They fluff up the male actors; they get them hard and keep them that way between takes. It's easy work. All it requires is a sweet personality, strong jaw muscles and a ready hand. Think you could do that?"

"Sure. I'd always rather fuck or blow a friend than a stranger. I'm really looking forward to this." 

I almost made the mistake of offering to give Su Lin and Stick a lift to the party, but I remembered, just in time, that she had no way of connecting me to Bette or to `Marta' as she knew her. Thus, if I showed up with either of them in the car, it would have been difficult to explain, especially to an already suspicious Stick.

"You can drive, can't you?" I asked.

"Sure."

"Stick said you guys needed a lift. Why don't you rent a car for the weekend. The studio will pay for it."

"That sounds cool," she said. "Where is this place?"

I drew a little map on hotel stationary. "And here's the phone number in case you get lost. I hope you can make it. Stick is real worried about the baby -- and about you, too, of course -- but the baby can't protect itself."

I took out my checkbook, and briefly explained the promise I had made to Stick. "So here's the check," I said, handing it to her. "This is the earnest money payment that proves my good faith. Cash the check if you like, but don't spend the money yet, because I expect you'll have to pay it back."

Su Lin nodded. "I know," she sighed. "We'll be there."

I don't know when Bette and Louise got in, but the next morning, I peeked in the back bedroom when I got up, and found them asleep in each other's arms. I made it a point to move around the apartment as quietly as possible as I got ready to go to work.

Thursday was a quiet day in the office. My calendar was clear for Friday, so I notified my answering service that I would be out of town until Monday.

When I returned to the apartment, I found the girls unusually subdued. I looked around, but saw no sign of anything unusual. "Why the long faces?" I asked, suddenly fearful of the answer.

Louise spoke up. "This apartment idea may not be so hot after all," she said. "I hate to admit it, but maybe we were asking for trouble."

Oh, God!! I felt a pang like a dull sword passing through my bowels. "Were?" I prompted. "What do you mean?"

"You remember old Mrs. Figgins? The widow with all the cats who lives downstairs?"

"Sure. What about her?"

"Well, Bette and I were coming back from the store, and when we stopped to check the mail box, Mrs. Figgins was there collecting her mail. She knew I'd been away for a while, and she also knew that my sister here," Louise put her arm around Bette's shoulder and gave her an affectionate hug, "had taken care of you while I was gone.

"She took me to one side, out of Bette's hearing, and asked if we were doing major remodeling. `All those men coming and going,' is how she put it, `had stirred up some catty remarks by some of the other tenants -- 'you know how people will talk, dear,'" Louise said, doing a credible job of mimicking the old woman. 

"So you told her . . .what?" I asked.

"What the fuck do you think I told her? That we had decided to open a massage parlor? Or, better yet, a whorehouse? I just told her, `thank you very much, we'll have to see how the estimates look,' and let it go at that." Louise's voice had risen slightly as she relived what must have been an embarrassing moment.

"This is what I was trying to tell you," I said.

"I know," Louise said. "It's just so much easier and safer to operate out of your own apartment . . ."

"I hate to keep harping on this," I said, "but there are other ways of making a living."

"And let all this talent go to waste?" Louise grinned at me, patting her crotch. "Bette is even more talented than I," Louise continued, an odd confession coming from her.

"Why?" 

"Men prefer younger women," Louise said matter of factly. "Especially younger women with tits like hers."

Louise had a point there. "I don't understand what you're trying to say," I said.

"Well, I busted my ass last night to turn four lousy $50 tricks in that fleabag hotel, and then I had to give half of it to the fucking bellhop," Louise said, "while the Queen of the May, here," Louise gave Bette another hug to take the sting out of her words, "gets invited to a party at the Four Seasons, and tricks half the men in the room at $200 a pop. That's what I mean!"

"Wow," I said. "How many was that?"

"I made $1,200 last night," Bette said modestly. 

Oh, oh. I saw trouble coming. Louise could never play second fiddle for long. I had some serious thinking to do about our collective future. But not now.

We shared the couch watching one insipid sitcom after another on TV, each larded with weak sexual innuendo, crude double entendre, and improbable couplings and pairings. When the last of them was over, Bette looked at me. "Those shows make us look good, don't they? At least we give value for the money."

We shared the big bed again, but we were all too tired to be horny. However, sometime during the night -- the clock was on the bedside table on the other side of Louise -- I woke up with a raging erection. A warm pair of lips was stretched around my manhood, reaching for my balls. I put my hands around Bette's face, encouraging her. Without missing a stroke, she reached up and put her finger across my lips. She didn't want me to wake Louise. This was ours.

I lay as quietly as possible while Bette alternatively jacked me with her hand, and sucked. "Come on," she whispered, "I want you to come in my mouth. I've got to get used to it."

An instant fantasy of her sucking an endless line of men came into my mind. Almost immediately, the familiar tightening in my loins and the vise across the small of my back squeezed my vital juice into the tubes leading to my penis, and then into Bette's warm, loving mouth.

"Ahhhh," I gasped, as my boiling seed gushed over Bette's tongue. She swallowed and swallowed. Suddenly, she gagged, and rolling out of bed, she ran for the bathroom, her hand over her mouth. I heard her retching into the toilet.

"Isn't she ever going to get that right?" Louise asked sleepily.

"I don't remember that you were so anxious for me to come in your mouth," I retorted. "Give the girl credit. She's trying."

"You're right," Louise said. "Give me a kiss."

I leaned over and gave her a friendly, not a passionate, kiss. In response, she wrapped her arms around my neck, and pulled me close to her. That's the way we were lying when Bette returned from the bathroom.

I disentangled myself from Louise and reached for Bette. Any girl brave enough to try to learn to swallow my cum certainly deserved a cuddle.

We drifted back to sleep.

I went up to the studio the next day. I was too late to see the shoot that Steve had promised, but I was in time for the meeting. Again, five of us met in the office. This time, I knew everyone there, even though I didn't necessarily know their busi ness, nor, if the truth be known, did I want to know it. Richard and the dangerous one, Carmine, greeted me. Richard was friendly, but Carmine seemed somber. 

There was the usual chitchat before Steve called the meeting to order. He looked at me. "Jim, here, had an assignment. Do you want to tell us how it's going?"

His voice was friendly enough, but there was no mistaking the hard look in his eyes.

Mentally cursing the overactive hormones which I liked to think were the cause of my troubles, I said evasively, "Oh, pretty well. These things take time."

Steve wasn't going to let me off that easily. Any doubt I may have had as to whether this meeting was being taped evaporat ed, when he said, "The last time you were here, you gave us an unconditional commitment, even after I offered to release you from your earlier promise. Carol then told you to turn two girls out. Specifically, Bette and Sandy Morrison. Did you do it?"





Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 12



Hating myself, but hating Steve more for exacting the price I was about to pay, I reluctantly said, "Yes."

"I didn't hear him, did you, Richard?" Carmine's slightly accented voice harshly cut through the quiet.

Carol spoke for the first time. "Tell us again, Jim, and this time speak up so everyone can hear." 

I cleared my throat, cursing myself for the nervous croak that emerged, "Yes," I said. "I turned Bette out. Sandy is tricking, too." My instincts told me it wasn't necessary to tell them about Louise.

"That's my boy," Carol beamed at me. "I knew you could do it. All that was needed was motivation. Isn't that right, Carmine?"

The room was suddenly deadly still. Carmine's normally solemn face became even more doleful. He looked reproachfully at Carol. "One of these days, you're going to go too far, bitch." he said quietly. 

There was another awkward silence. Steve turned to me, and smiled. "Now tell us about the girl you think ought to be in movies," he said.

I quickly told the group how I had met her, warming to Carol's nod and obvious approval when it became clear to her and the others that it was in the line of duty, so to speak. I told them about her physical condition, and about her husband's disability.


"I wish I had known the girl was pregnant when she called," Carol said. "There's always a call for pregnant whores. And I think we might even have a movie here." She was quiet for a moment. The others respectfully waited while her fertile brain examined the possibilities. Then she smiled at me.

"This is excellent, Jim," she said. "You say you bribed her husband into coming to our next party?" Not waiting for my answer, she continued, "I think that's wonderful."

She looked at me fondly. "You done good, gramps."

There were other matters to discuss before the meeting adjourned. Carol walked me back to my car. 

When we were away from the buildings, she said, "You realized we were video taping the meeting, didn't you?"

"Of course."

"Well, here's something you probably don't know. You probably didn't realize why Carmine was so anxious to get you on the tape."

I hadn't thought about it, but now that she pointed it out, it did seem strange. I said as much.

"You remember when Carmine called me a bitch?" Carol asked. "As you probably guessed, he's seen himself on tape, and he didn't like it. But he likes it even less that you saw the tape. Sicilians are like that. Very macho."

I felt a thrill of utter terror course through my body.

"I'm only telling you this for your own good," she went on. "You see, we're safe because we have the tape, and he knows if something unpleasant were to happen to either of us, a copy would go straight to the Gambini family in Cleveland; they are the sworn enemies of Carmine's family in New York, and copies of that tape would go to every newspaper in the New York area.

"Unfortunately, you don't have a copy of the tape, and he knows that, too.

"So be very careful, Jim. For your own sake, don't rock the boat. Oh, by the way," she said, pouring salt into my wounds, "we may have another assignment for you next week." She held her mouth up for a kiss. "Drive carefully," she said.

Numbed by Carol's revelations and scarcely aware of my surroundings, I drove back to town on auto pilot. My mind vacillated between mental pictures of gruesome gangland murders I had read about, usually involving an ice pick, and unhappy speculation regarding Carol's casual reference to possible additional debasement. What more could she possibly ask of me? I wondered unhappily. Suddenly, I broke out of my revery, realizing that I was parked in my familiar stall in the apartment garage.

After shutting off the engine, I continued to sit there for several minutes, thinking. I didn't know that Carmine was a gangster, but neither did I know that he wasn't. It didn't matter. I was sure he had access to one, which, from my point of view, was almost as bad. 

The girls were bathed, powdered and almost ready for action when I let myself into the apartment. I knew what I had to do.

"What's the matter, sourpuss?" Bette asked, when she saw my long face. 

I attempted a smile that probably resembled a post-mortem rictus. "It's a long drive," I said, "and I'm tired. Nothing a good drink won't fix."

They didn't ask about the meeting. Instead, they told me that Su Lin had called to tell them about another convention. Bette reminded me of an excited puppy, as she preened before the mirror and made a minute adjustment to her makeup. Then she reached into her bodice and pulled a breast a trifle higher in her bra. "Su Lin thinks we each ought to turn at least ten tricks tonight if we try hard enough," she said. 

Louise was more restrained. "She'll get all the action," she said sourly, nodding toward Bette. 

"What time do you want to leave?" I asked. 

"We have plenty of time," Louise said. "There's a meatloaf in the oven, and some baked potatoes. You can open a can of corn or something to go with it."

"Aren't you going to eat?" I asked.

"Su Lin said this was a dinner date," Bette said. "How do we look?"

Louise, again, was dressed in a low-cut cocktail dress that ended midthigh. Louise had fine legs, and the current styles gave her a chance to show them to their best advantage. I smiled at her. "Bend over like you're picking up your lighter," I said. "I'll tell you what I can see."

She laughed. "You're incorrigible; you even like to peek at your own wife." She stooped, then bent forward.

I watched her neckline gape open as she bent toward me. She was not wearing a bra. Her breasts were almost completely exposed, and I distinctly saw -- or thought I saw -- her nipples. "You're going to catch your death of cold going around dressed that way," I said. "Don't you feel a draft around your tits?"

Louise responded by wrinkling her nose at me, while I pondered her unexpected reference to `wife'. It was the first time since her return that she had referred directly to our legal status.

I turned to inspect Bette.

"I decided against the knit," she said, "because I had trouble with the buttons last time. What do you think of this?" She pirouetted, and her short pleated skirt flew high above her stocking tops, revealing not only her shapely bare thighs, but also her bare mons. 

"You're not wearing panties," I said sternly. 

"I keep losing them," she said. "It's beginning to run into money." Then she asked, "Don't you want to watch me bend over?"

"Sure," I said. There was no doubt at all about the effectiveness of their costumes. I had felt a definite twitch in my pants and the beginning of a lump when Louise had bent over, but when Bette flashed me, the lump became noticeably harder. 

"First, I'll bend away from you," she said, as she proceed ed to bend, touching the floor. Her skirt rose three inches above her stocking tops, the hem barely covering the cheeks of her ass.

"Wow," I said. "Don't do that in front of people unless you mean business." I thought for a moment. "I guess you do mean business," I added lamely.

Bette looked quizzically at me, then said, "Now, for my next act . . ." and she repeated the maneuver, only this time bending toward me. I thought her breasts were going to fall out of her dress. 

"I thought you were wearing a bra," I said.

"I was, but I took it off. Guys don't want to look at bras, do they?"

"Some guys do," I said. 

"Maybe I should go put it back on, then," she said.

"Put some panties on, while you're at it," I said. "Some guys like to look at them, too." 

Bette went into the bedroom. Louise looked at me. "Why didn't you tell me to put on a bra?"

"I figure you're old enough to know what you want," I said, "besides, you've never taken my advice before; why would you begin now?"

She smiled slightly. "I guess you're right," she said. 

Bette came out of the bedroom. "All set," she announced, "See?" she lifted her skirt, displaying lace trimmed crotchless panties that artistically framed her tiny opening.

Then she leaned forward, so her bodice gaped open. Her nipples were plainly visible, rising above the half bra that lifted her breasts and pushed them forward.

My erection was becoming uncomfortable by this time. For a few moments, I even thought of visiting Su Lin after I dropped the girls off; then I remembered she would be with the girls. 

This just wasn't my night. 

We drove downtown. The convention was being held in a newly opened hotel. No familiar faces here, tonight. The doorman opened the car door, and the women managed to step from it -- not easily done in a miniskirt -- without giving the doorman a cardiac arrest. I knew I should, but I didn't want to go straight home to an empty house. Feeling more than a little sorry for myself, I decided to stop and have a beer in a topless joint I knew about.

I parked on the street almost directly in front of the place, locked the car, and pushed through the doorway into the dimly lit interior. The place stank of stale beer and cigarette smoke and was almost empty. There weren't more than 10 or 15 men seated at small tables scattered across the floor. A young girl on stage was listlessly swaying to the rousing beat of a fast rock piece. I almost turned around to leave, but the girl caught my eye and gave me a faintly conspiratorial smile, so I decided to stay.


She unfastened her bra while I walked across the floor. Our eyes met again, but she quickly looked away and directed her attention to the middle distance above her customer's heads. 

I sat at an empty table near the stage. A waitress wearing a thong bikini bottom, a garter stuffed with several ones and a $5 bill on her right thigh and breasts barely contained within a skimpy tube top, took my order and brought me a Bud.

"Would you like some company?" she asked.

I shook my head, and turned my attention to the stage. The young dancer was now nude to the waist. She had fine perky little breasts. She was a terrible dancer, or maybe she just didn't like her work, but she peeled down to the buff. She had a slender, lithe figure, but little grace as she swayed and bounced to the music.

Her genital hair was trimmed. She performed the obligatory squats, giving her audience a gynecologist's view of her vagina. Then she turned, bent over, and treated us to a clinical view of her rectum. Some eager hands reached up to stuff $1 bills into her garter. Then she gathered her clothes and fled from the stage.

The next dancer was much more interesting. The first girl had had brownish, nondescript hair, but this lady was a flaming redhead. And I mean really flaming. She was a chunky lass, about 10 hard years older than the first performer, but she was much more enthusiastic, and conveyed the distinct impression that she liked her work.

She bounced and strutted around the stage, giving us glimpses of a bare breast, then coyly covering it up. I was beginning to enjoy her performance, when a woman said, "Do you mind if I sit down? I mean you don't have to buy me a drink or anything."

I looked up. It was the young dancer. She was wearing a bikini under a beach coverup. "Sure," I said. "Sit down."

The waitress was at my side in an instant. "I'll have a champagne cocktail," the girl said. When the waitress turned away, the girl pushed three $1 bills under my hand. "I want her to think you're paying for it. OK?"

I was intrigued. I had never before encountered a B-girl who offered to go dutch. "Sure," I said.

The waitress returned with a champagne glass full of a liquid that I'm sure had never seen the inside of a champagne bottle and picked up the $3. 

"Thanks," the girl said.

"Before anything else," I said, "tell me what's in that glass? I've bought hundreds of those things over the years, and I've always wondered what they really serve."

She laughed. "People ask all kinds of questions, but this is the first time I've been asked that," she said. She composed her face and looked seriously at me. "It's champagne," she said. Then she laughed again and smiled. "Out of a bottle with a screw top. It's really a white house wine. I think this one is a cheap Chardon- ney, but I'm not sure."

"Your other question? Why am I pestering you, when I'm sure you'd rather be watching Lil up there?"

I glanced up at the stage. Lil was topless. Her large breasts seemed strangely immobile as she strutted through an old fashioned bump and grind routine. 

"I've heard of Silicone Valley," I said, "Are those the Silicone Mountains?"

My new friend suppressed a giggle. "Don't let her hear you say that," she said. "I heard they cost her $2,500."

"I'd say she got her money's worth," I said. "In any case, I'd rather talk to you."

"Really?" she said. "Well then, I'm supposed to tell you that if you'll buy me a bottle of wine, we can go into one of the booths where we won't be disturbed. The wine costs $50, but my time is free." She frowned slightly, then added, "But it's only fair to tell you that if we do go into a booth, all you'll get is a quick feel. I don't do hand jobs or blow jobs. I guess I'm what you might call a marginal, unproductive worker."

"That's OK," I said. "Let's go."

She signaled the waitress, and led me back into the dim recesses of the room to a row of booths, heavily screened with what looked like dusty red plush draperies. I heard a woman giggle from a booth near the end of the row. We slipped into one at the opposite end and sat side by side in the semi-dark on a padded bench behind a small table. The waitress was close behind us with a split bottle of wine, a glass and a fresh Bud. "That will be $53," she said.

Feeling foolish and very juvenile, I took a $50 and a $10 from my money clip and handed them to her. "That's OK," I said, waving her away. 

She backed out of the booth and closed the drapes. 

It took a few moments before my eyes adjusted to the dark. "What's your name?"

"My stage name is Natasha, she said, but my real name is Wilma. Wilma Bates. What's yours?"

"I'm Jim Bromfield," I said. "I'm a small-time lawyer downtown."

"We don't get many lawyers in here," she said.

"I gathered as much, judging by the clientele out there," I said. "I know it's none of my business, and I'm sure every guy who has been in here with you has asked the same question, but watching you on the stage tonight made me wonder if you wouldn't rather empty bed pans for a living. Why are you doing this?"

"I would, if I were doing this for a living," she said. "But I'm not. I'm doing research."

"I don't think I've heard that one before," I said.

"No, really." she said. "I'm doing a master's thesis on the kind of women who dance in places like this, and the men who patronize them."

"Like me." 

She laughed again. "Not exactly," she said. "I'd say offhand that you're atypical."

I tried to remember the last time a B-girl had worked the word `atypical' into her conversation. 

Meanwhile, Natasha, or Wilma -- I wondered which she preferred -- continued, "There have been many studies of prostitutes and some on go-go dancers, but there is practically nothing in the literature on strip dancers."

More than intrigued, I was becoming fascinated. If `atypical' hadn't been sufficiently convincing, her casual reference to `the literature' clearly established her bona fides. 

"And how's the project going?" I asked. I was really interested.

She looked closely at me. "Do you really want to know, or are you just being a wise ass?"

"I'm really curious," I said. 

"I've worked out four classifications of dancers," she said. "At one end of a continuum is the prostitute-dancer. She only dances because this is a safe place for her to work. She'll get you in here and either blow you or jerk you off, but the house takes such a heavy cut that she's working for peanuts.

"Then there are women like Lil out there. She lives at home with her husband or boyfriend, I'm not sure which. I think she'll trick now and then under the right circumstances -- I call that opportunistic prostitution.

"Next are women like Sally, she's our waitress. She's representative of the largest group. She's actually a dancer. I'm not sure whether she happens to be married at the moment, but I am sure she doesn't trick. She would rather hustle tips by waiting tables than hustle drinks like I'm hustling you." Wilma put her hand on mine.

"And then there are the cherries like me. These are girls who moonlight as dancers. Many are secretaries, college students, or young housewives; all young, attractive women who have a serious need for extra money. It might be school tuition, a kid who needs braces, a mother in a nursing home, that sort of thing."

By this time, she had my full attention. "Tell me about yourself," I said.

"Hey, that's supposed to be my line," she said with a smile.

"I mean it. I'm really interested," I said.

"There isn't much to tell. I'm 23, never been married, have had three serious relationships that never went anywhere, and I'm taking an advanced program in social psychology leading to an MSW; a master of social work degree. What about you?"

"How much time do I get on a bottle of wine?" I asked.

"Is it that bad?" she asked.

"It's worse," I said. "Really, you don't want to know."

"Look. I'm probably keeping you from some meaningful insights right now," I said.

She laughed. "You're a nut." 

"I may be a nut, but I think I'm getting in over my head," I said. I stood up. 

"Wait, Jim, don't go yet," she said softly. "I told you that you could cop a quick feel, didn't I?" She put my hand against her bikini covered breast.

"Hell, this is no good," she muttered. She lifted the bikini cup off her breast. "That's better," she said as my fingers brushed her stubborn little nipple, and my hand gently cupped her tender breast.

I sat down. She put her hand on the side of my face, turning my head toward her. Then she put her arm around my neck, and pulled my face down to hers. Our lips met. She worked her mouth against mine, and I felt the tip of her tongue exploring, and then slithering between my lips. She broke the contact, and pulled her head back so she could see my entire face. 

I leaned over and touched the tip of her nipple with my tongue.

"Ooooh, that feels good," she said. Then, briskly, she added, "Let's get out of here. Give me five minutes."

She stuffed her breast back into the bikini cup, and hurried out of the booth. Things were happening awfully fast, but I was seriously attracted to her. Evidently, the attraction was mutual.

She was back in less than five minutes, dressed in Levis and a pullover sweater. "Let's go," she said.

She paused briefly at the bar to speak to the manager while I waited by the door. Then she joined me and linked her arm in mine. 

"Your car or mine?" I asked. 

"I ride the bus to work and take a cab home," she said. "I don't have a car."

I unlocked the passenger side, and held the door open for her. Then I walked around and got in the driver's side. "I'm being very foolish," she said quietly, almost to herself. She put her hand on my sleeve. I looked at her.

"Am I going to be sorry about this?" she asked, her solemn eyes riveted to mine.

"God, I hope not," I said fervently. I reached over and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

"Where would you like to go?" I asked.

"Are you married, Jim?"

"Yes"

"Well, then, we can't go to your place." she said.

"Sure, we can," I said. "Bette isn't home." 

"OK, if you think it's all right," she said doubtfully.

She started to giggle. 

What the hell?

"I'm sorry, Jim," she said. "But I'm a bit nervous. I was thinking that Tony -- he's the manager -- assumed that I'm tricking you. If he heard us talk, he'd be totally confused."

We pulled into the driveway, and down to the basement garage. I helped Wilma out of the car and we rode the elevator up to my floor. I opened the door and ushered her inside.




Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 12



The living room was a mess, just as I had left it a couple of hours earlier. She slipped her coat off her shoulders and handed it to me. I hung it in the hall closet. "Let me get you a drink," I said. "I know I could use one. What would you like?"

She followed me into the kitchen. "A glass of wine would be fine. What's your wife like?"

I almost replied, "Which one?" but I said. "She's 37, nice figure, a little heavy, wonderful personality, except she gets awfully stubborn occasionally, and good in bed."

"I have the feeling that you're holding something back."

You're damn right I'm holding something back. But I merely said, "Here, let's go in the living room," as I handed her a glass of sauterne.

She curled her legs under her when she sat on the couch. I sat in my easy chair facing her. I set my drink on the table and took her hands in mine. 

"You're right, Wilma. I do have a lot on my mind, but that shouldn't spoil our time together."

She looked solemnly into my eyes and repeated the question she had asked in the car. "Jim, tell me; am I going to be sorry about this?"

"I don't think so," I said slowly. "I don't know what you may be feeling, but I want to tell you that I haven't been this attracted to another person on such short notice since I was in high school."

Her eyes grew very large. "That's exactly how I'm feeling, Jim," she said softly, holding her arms out to me.

I moved from my chair to the couch, and took her in my arms. "Be gentle," she whispered against my chest.

I led her into the bedroom. "Do you mind if I leave the light on?" I asked. "It means a lot to me to be able to see my partner."

She smiled shyly. "There isn't much of me you haven't already seen," she said. 

I smiled in return. "All I saw then was a lovely young woman doing something she didn't want to do," I said. "Now I see a beautiful young woman about to do something I think she wants as badly as I."

"Oh, yes," Wilma said. Her voice was muffled as she tugged her sweater off, while I stripped off my tie, shirt, and pants. I stood before her, dressed only in my tented shorts.

She dropped her sweater on the floor, unbuckled her Levis and stepped out of them. She reached behind and unsnapped her bra, which fell away from her firm young breasts. Then she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her panties and pulled them down over her slender hips.

She smiled. "Same bod, different audience. Let's see what we have here." She grasped my waistband and slowly pulled my shorts down, carefully lifting the band over my straining manhood. She let my underwear fall to the floor.

"How do you do?" she said, taking my cock in her right hand and pumping it up and down.

She stepped into the circle of my arms. I felt her twin peaks digging into my chest, and I could feel my cock pressing against her soft belly. I raised her chin and fastened my mouth on hers. Again, as she began to relax in my arms, I felt her wicked little tongue beginning to explore my lips and mouth. My sword seemed to grow another inch. 

She pulled her head back. "Do you have protection? I'm not on the pill."

I opened the bedside drawer and removed a packaged condom. "Just so it's handy," I said, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

She stepped between my legs and pulled my head to her breast. I took a nipple gently between my teeth and tickled the tip of it with my tongue. She shivered and clutched me more tightly. Next, I opened my mouth wide and sucked virtually her entire breast into my mouth, swallowing her nipple. 

"Oh, my God, Oh! That feels sooo good. Do it some more," she said. "Now the other one," She was shivering as if she had terminal hypothermia. "God, that feels good, but I can't take much more," she said. 

I pulled her down on the bed and began petting her incredibly smooth skin. It felt like silk and smelled faintly of scented soap. I ran my hand down her belly and touched her delta. She jumped. 

I started kissing and licking her body. I reached her belly, and I poked my tongue into her belly button. She was squirming and rubbing her thighs together.

I kissed that little hollow place between her pelvis and hip bone, and then I gazed on her treasure, modestly concealed beneath her neatly trimmed dark hair. I pushed her legs apart and kissed her nether lips. 

"Don't do that. That's dirty," she panted. 

I was instantly reminded of my first time with Bette. "OK," I said cheerfully, "Just a minute." I delicately traced the outline of her tiny slit with my tongue. 

"OH! MY! GOD!!" she wailed. Her thighs gripped my head like a walnut in a vise. I continued to bathe her womanhood with my stiffened tongue, now penetrating ever so slightly between those tight lips.

Her labia was becoming engorged, and slowly, her vulva opened to me. I found her little love button, and touched it with my tongue.

Instantly, she began bucking her torso against my face. "Fuck me," she cried, "I've got to have you in me! Now!"

I scooted up the bed, ripped open the package, rolled the rubber over my manhood, and coated it with some jelly. I slid be tween her legs, and leaned over her. "Put it in for me, darling," I said.

She rubbed the head of my cock up and down her tiny slit, then tried to insert it. It wouldn't go. "Push," she panted. "Push real hard!"

By this time, my cock was like a crowbar, and would not be denied. A red haze seemed to settle over my eyes, and I was desperate with a need to plunge it into female flesh; I shoved with all the power in my thigh, buttock, and back muscles. It popped into her. Her eyes got huge and she sucked in a deep breath. Then she moaned. 

I was focused on burying myself as deeply into her as I could reach, and I made three more plunging efforts to achieve that primeval goal, when I realized she was breathing strangely and her eyes were still abnormally wide. Suddenly fearful that I had somehow hurt her, I stopped. She seemed to come out of her trance, and her eyes focused on my face for the first time since we had started. "Don't stop," she whispered, "Not now!" To emphasize the point, she raised her legs and locked them around my waist. "Finish what you've started."

She began flexing her legs, urging me into her, deeper and harder. She had relaxed, and evidently, had generated enough lubrication so my latex covered member slid easily back and forth. 

She began to move beneath me, and whispered, "Fuck me, fuck me! This is so much better than I thought it would be!"

With her straining encouragement, I began hammering myself into the clasping resistance offered by her slender body. All too quickly, I felt that familiar ringing in my ears, and the vise across my back, as the juices began flowing into my urethra. Suddenly it was there! I made a last desperate plunge into her belly and felt myself throb with relief as I spurted and spurted into the end of that rubber tube. As my spasms slowed, she kicked at me with her heels. "Do it again!" she screamed.

I was still hard, so I pulled back and began a rapid fire attack on her womanhood. But I knew I was losing it. Finally, while I was still inside her, I held her tightly and rolled over so we were on our sides. She was trembling. I stroked her hair, and her side, whispered to her, and kissed the parts of her face and head that I could reach.

Her trembling gradually ceased as our breathing returned to normal. She sighed. "That was wonderful, Jim. I bet you never fucked a 23-year-old virgin before, did you?"



Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 13



Synopsis: Jim seems to be getting in deeper and deeper. At the last meeting at Satin Studios, Carol tells him that Carmine knows he saw the tape where Carmine was sucking Jeff, and isn't pleased about it.

After taking his two ladies downtown, Jim stops at a topless bar where he meets a stripper with an unusual background. He takes her home and discovers she was a virgin.

The Last Party

I was shocked and suddenly very concerned. I couldn't remember anything she had said that would have given me a hint that she was a virgin. However, I did remember how difficult it had been to penetrate her. As I lay there, tenderly stroking the hair back from her flushed and moist face and holding her in my arms, I re- membered other clues that, had I not been so excited, I might have understood. 

"Did I hurt you terribly?" I asked, contritely. 

She smiled. "It's OK," she said. "I'm sore, but it's nothing a good bath and a night's sleep won't cure."

"But if you'd told me, I could have tried to take it easy. Was it bad?"

"It hurt all right," she said. "That's the trouble with us old cherries. We hang on to it until it's old and leathery. Then when someone tries to break it for us, it really hurts. If I had started fucking at 13 like the other girls, breaking it then would have been easy."

"Well, you didn't have to go through this," I said, still feeling guilty. "That's why doctors have scalpels."

"I know," she sighed, "but to me, that would have been a cop-out. In a way, breaking your cherry is like natural childbirth. It's a milestone in a girl's life; an event I will always remember and be grateful to you for." She tightened her grip around my neck and brought my lips to hers for a lasting kiss. "Thank you, Jim," she said.

I offered her the use of our bathtub, but she shook her head. "I'd be more comfortable in my apartment," she said. "Your wife may be coming home soon, anyway. What would she say if she found me in the tub?"

"Only that I had been terribly lucky." Wilma raised her eyebrows. "I don't understand." 

"We have an 'open' marriage," I said. "Either of us is free to date, and even screw other people. Sometimes we party with another couple. Sometimes we go to a sex club and screw everybody, assuming, of course, they are willing. In other words, we regard sex as wonderful recreation. Not many church people openly agree with our philosophy, but privately, many do."

Wilma's eyes widened. "Wow," she said. "You mean your wife is out on a date right now?"

I nodded. Naturally, I didn't tell her the girls were out tricking. Moreover, I thought it highly unlikely that she would welcome the news that she had become number three (or four, depending on Sandy's current attitude) in my growing harem. Consequently, I merely said, "I definitely want to see you again."

"I hope so," she said, kissing the end of my nose. "Now that we have this thing open, we've got to keep it from growing shut again."

I love it when they talk like that!

"The soreness ought to disappear in a day or two," she added. "Maybe we could try it again at my place?"

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to pay $50 for a bottle of Thunderbird every time I wanted to see you," I said.

She giggled. "Don't be silly," she said. "We can do better than that."

I took her home soon after. We exchanged kisses and telephone numbers, and she climbed the steps to her apartment. She walked as if she were still hurting. As I watched her, I was slightly comforted remembering her explanation for not telling me her status before we went to bed. "It's simple. You wouldn't have done it."

She was right. 

I was worn out. The emotional roller coaster I had been riding for the past several weeks, plus the incredible quantity and variety of sexual gymnastics I had been enjoying, were beginning to take their toll. I drove into the apartment garage, stumbled into the elevator, and blindly inserted my key in the lock. Everything in the apartment was just as we had left it. I had thought, since it was now shortly after 2 am, that my working girls might be home, but they weren't.

I stripped my clothes off and tumbled into bed. Thank God it was Friday.

When I woke, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and I smelled bacon frying. Wonderful. I rolled out of bed and strolled nakedly into the kitchen. Bette was pouring coffee for Sandy. 

Sandy saw me first. She rolled her eyes and whistled. "I love it when naked men, all dangly and floppy, come to stir my coffee," she said. Then she looked thoughtfully at my member. "Can I ask a dumb question?"

"Ask away."

"Why is your thingamajig so much smaller than Jeff's when it's soft?"

"It just looks that way," I said, "because my foreskin hasn't been trimmed away." Bette handed me a cup of coffee, while Sandy pondered my reply.

I sat at the table, and began to sip my coffee while the ladies resumed their conversation. Lost in last night's glowing memories, I paid no attention at first, but slowly I began to hear what they were saying. 

Sandy was talking, "...that's when he said he'd rather have a cock, any day." `He'? `cock'? What the hell? They now had my full attention.

Bette said, "Well, you know Jim here sometimes swings from the other side of the plate . . ."

Sandy said, "That's not the same thing at all! Jim doesn't come home and tell you that he wants to live with another man, or that he would rather suck a cock than fuck a woman!"

Bette raised her eyebrows, and said, "You're right. What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," Sandy said. "I've got to find a place for little Jeffie and me." 

The lawyer in me came on full alert. "You'll do nothing of the sort," I said sharply. "You stay put. Make Jeff do the moving, if that's what he wants. You stand your ground."

Her expression changed to one of despair. "I wish I could," she said. "But you know how expensive these apartments are. I could never afford it."

"You don't have to," I said firmly. "That's Jeff's problem. You come down to the office Monday morning," I added, "and I'll get the ball rolling." I looked fondly at her. We shared some wonderful memories. "Don't worry. I may not be the fanciest, richest, or even the best lawyer in town, but I can get things started for you and see that you have good representation if you need it."

Sandy was obviously relieved. She stood to leave. "Don't let that go to waste, Bette," she said, pointing at the growing tumescence between my thighs. I had been looking at Sandy's slender legs too long. She left, and Bette came to sit on my lap. She took my manhood in her hand, and kissed me warmly on the mouth. "I love you, Jim," she whispered. 

"And I, you," I said. "How'd things go last night?"

Bette shrugged. "I'm a little sore," she said. "I turned 11 tricks," she paused and looked around, while her voice dropped to a near whisper, "which was four more than Louise did. She was mad about it, too."

"She was mad about what?" Louise demanded. Neither of us had heard her enter the room.

Bette looked embarrassed. "I was just talking about something," she said.

"Talking about me," Louise corrected her.

I was beginning to wish I was somewhere else.

"Well, if you must know, yes," Bette said defiantly.

I watched Louise as she struggled with what for her must have seemed like apostasy. The kid was talking back! Louise looked tired. The sparkle seemed to have gone from her eyes, and in the morning light, I saw new lines around her mouth and eyes. I felt a surge of pity for her. At 37, she was simply too old to try to make a living on her back. She couldn't go on like this. I was concerned lest she turn to a whore's last solace -- the needle.

Many would have said that our lifestyle was wild and licentious, and by contemporary standards, I would have agreed. But we had never fooled with drugs. This had more to do with common sense than morals; frankly, I was afraid of them. I had had a tough enough time giving up tobacco. I honestly couldn't imagine what it must be like trying to get a cocaine habit off my back.

But many girls `in the life' do turn to drugs. And now that I had seen that life from the inside, I understood why. "Let's not get excited," I said. "We're all tired. Let's try to keep our shit together."

Louise looked slightly mollified, but Bette, having learned she could talk back to Louise, looked like she had more to say. I headed it off by saying sharply, "Cool it, both of you!" She silently closed her mouth.

"I've got something to say to both of you," I said. "Please sit down."

Louise looked at me as if for the first time. Bette meekly folded her hands in her lap and waited to hear what I had to say. 

Quickly, I filled the girls in on the meeting, and especially my conversation with Carol afterwards, except I did not tell them what the tape showed. That knowledge would have been too dangerous for them. Their eyes grow round as the implications of Carol's threat sank in.

Louise spoke first. "What should we do?"

I had the faint glimmerings of an idea, but nothing concrete. My instincts warned me not to confide too deeply in either woman. Louise was brighter and more mature than Bette, but I suspected she had an agenda that included only Louise.

I didn't trust Bette, either, but for quite different reasons. It wasn't her loyalty I questioned, but her judgment. I was afraid if she knew what I had in mind, she might innocently confide in Sandy or Louise or even her next trick.

"I don't know," I said slowly. "There's bound to be a soft spot somewhere. We've got to find it." Without realizing it, I had stepped back across the Rubicon. Satin Studios, and all it stood for, had become the enemy. Choosing my words carefully, I added, "We have to play this carefully. Let's consider what they don't know."

I held up my hand and began ticking off my fingers. "First, they don't know that Louise is back. Second, they know you're tricking, Bette, and I told them that Sandy was interested in `the life', but I didn't say anything about you girls using the apartment. 

"I think we ought to play their game a little longer. There's a party next weekend. Bette and I will go, and we'll look for that soft spot."

Louise smiled. She turned to Bette. "Jim's like any other hound dog. He'll look for anything soft he can find, especially if it's got hair around it." Bette nodded. 

It wasn't very funny, but at least the ladies were smiling instead of snarling. 

I spent the rest of the weekend moping around the house, trying to catch up on my reading, watching the Sunday baseball games, and generally trying to work up my nerve for what I knew I had to do Monday morning. However, when I arrived in my office the next morning, Sandy was waiting for me. "Are you always this late?" she asked, smiling to show she wasn't serious.

I laughed and unlocked the door. I ushered Sandy into the office, opened the blinds and sat in one of the club chairs in front of my desk. Sandy sat in the other, nervously crossing and recrossing her legs.

"You guys couldn't work out your problem?" I asked as I picked up a yellow pad and a pencil.

Sandy looked at me; her eyes were enormous, fear showing plainly on her face. "He never came home," she said. "We don't have a joint checking account, and I don't even have enough money to buy milk for Jeffie; I don't know what to do."

"That's easy to fix," I said, as I reached into my wallet and withdrew three $100 bills that I offered to her. "Now you do," I said briskly.

Sandy shook her head. "I came here for advice," she said, "not a handout!" 

"Look, Sandy, this isn't charity. I'm just cancelling the oldest bargaining strategy in the world. There is nothing that will make a person feel more helpless and vulnerable and, therefore, more willing to settle than suddenly being deprived of the ready cash most of us rely on for everyday things. I'm not only loaning you $300, I'm depriving Jeff of an opportunity to drive a harder bargain than you and Jeffie ought to accept.

"But I'm curious. Why don't you have a joint checking account? Most people do."

"We did, too, until recently," Sandy said. "Jeff said he closed it because it wasn't paying interest and because, as an accountant, he thought we might live more carefully if we paid cash for things. That's why we don't have any credit cards, either."

Little alarm bells sounded in my head. I didn't point out that this behavior suggested that Jeff might have been planning his exit for some time. Instead, I said, "Frankly, I can't see Jeff abandoning you and Jeffie. Right now, he's confused and sort of screwed up. He may even move out. But he knows he has obligations. I doubt whether we'll have to squeeze him to live up to them."

I explained that we lived in a community property state, which meant that everything they had acquired during their marriage -- virtually everything they owned -- belonged equally to both of them. Thus, a dissolution of the marital community meant that such assets would be divided equally.

It was unfortunate that Sandy had been so trusting. I quickly drew up a rough statement of net worth based on the little information Sandy was able to provide. Jeff had held their finances close to his vest.

"You guys have done pretty well. From what you tell me, you have a net worth of around $160,000. Half of that won't set you up for life, but if you take care of it, and if he holds up his end regarding child support and alimony, you should be all right.

"However, because of Jeff's income, your alimony award won't be very large. You'll probably have to go to work. But you're not going to be in the street."

I looked in the form book for the necessary forms to get a court order freezing their bank account. Then I sat next to Sandy and took her hand. "Darling," I said, "I know how difficult this is for you. What I'm about to say won't make it any easier, but hear me out." Sandy looked at me. The fear I had seen earlier, returned. She nodded.

Carefully choosing my words, I said, "Please understand that I'm not abandoning you, when I tell you that I can't represent you beyond what we're doing today."

Sandy started to speak, but I held up my hand. "There are two problems with my representing you that I don't think we can overcome. Remember, I told you on Saturday that I would see to it that you had good representation?"

Sandy leaned forward and again started to speak, but I help up a restraining hand. "Hear me out," I repeated. "The first problem is my relationship with both of you. As I'm sure you realize, I'm more than a little in love with you; have been, in fact, since our first night together. I have also been intimate with Jeff. On ethical grounds, those relationships alone would preclude my representing you in any formal proceeding. And properly so," I hastened to add, seeing her begin to renew her objections.

"The Canon of Ethics is designed to protect not the lawyer, but the client. Your interests could be hopelessly compromised if, in an adversarial proceeding, opposing counsel could impeach me on moral or ethical grounds. In other words, I could very well be more of a liability to you than anything else.

"The second problem is even more compelling. I'm simply not qualified to represent you. The only thing I know about the law of domestic relations is what I learned years ago school, and that wasn't much beyond the general stuff we've been talking about this morning. I hope you aren't too disappointed."

Sandy slowly nodded. "I understand," she said quietly. "I don't like it, but it makes sense. What do I do now?"

"I'll file this petition for you," I said. "When Jeff discovers that his bank account has been frozen, the shock may bring him to his senses. If not, then I'll find the right person to represent you. In this situation, Jeff will almost certainly be required to pay for that representation, so we need not worry about your attorney's fees.

"In the meantime, however, let me know when you need another cash advance. I repeat; this is not charity. Jeff will reimburse me in good time, whether he wants to or not, and regardless of the outcome of this case. If this drags on, we'll set up a drawing account so you won't have to come to me every time you need money.

"It shouldn't come to that, however, because if it goes that far, your lawyer will ask the court for custody of Jeffie and for interim support for you and the child."

Sandy began nodding as I spoke. "This doesn't sound so bad," she said, "I was really scared at first."

I shook my head. "Separation and divorce are never a walk in the park," I said, "especially when children are involved. But I know your lawyer will do everything possible to keep the pain to a minimum. 

"There is one more thing. Louise told me about your working relationship. I only hope Jeff doesn't know about it. But you've got to cut it out anyway, because if the court found out about it, you might lose custody of Jeffie."

I'm sure that thought had not occurred to her because her eyes were suddenly wary and frightened again. "What about our parties?" she whispered.

I shook my head. "It isn't Jeff you have to worry about," I said. "Jeff's not going to rock the boat. The thing you have to worry about is some judge finding you to be an unfit parent. If that happened, Jeffie could wind up in foster care as a ward of the court." 

Sandy and I stood. She was shaking when she flowed into my arms and held her soft mouth up. "Thank you for caring, Jim," she murmured as our mouths ground together in a kiss that was reassuring rather than passionate.

Her trembling stopped and I released her. Sandy gave me a tremulous smile, opened the door, and was gone.

I had gone to law school with a man named Bucky Branson. Because our names both began with B, we had been seated next to each other in several classes during those three stressful years. But we never became close friends. Even then, I had considered him a pompous ass. God knows what he may have thought of me, but I'm sure it wasn't flattering. Bucky was now an federal assistant district attorney.

I looked his number up in the phone directory, and dialed it before I could talk myself out of it. 

"Good morning. US Attorney's office." 

"Is Mr. Branson available?" I asked, nervousness closing my throat so it sounded as if I had a bad cold.

"And who may I say is calling?"

That was Bucky, all right. Screening his calls. "Just say it's an old classmate," I said. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"Just a moment, please."

Then I heard a man's plumy voice. "How may I help you?" It was Bucky, all right.

"Hi, Bucky," I said with a false heartiness. "This is the guy who discovered that Professor Carter's bow tie had cut off the circulation between his brain and his tongue," I said, reminding my former classmate of the annual law school `tea party' where law students lampooned their professors.

There was a pause while he searched his mental file. "Jim! Jim Bromfield! It's great to hear from you. I heard you were in practice over in Kelso. It must be nice to be out of the city."

There was no point prolonging it. "I'd like to come in and buy you lunch some day this week," I said, half dreading his acceptance. 

"Well, great, Jim. Is it urgent? We could talk about it here in the office."

"I'd rather keep it out of the office for the moment."

"I understand. Hmm, I'm open Thursday. How's that?"

"Great," I said with all the enthusiasm of a man going to the gallows. We quickly arranged a time and place. Then I sat back and thought about what I had done. The palms of my hands were moist. Unconsciously, I wiped them on my pants. 

I hoped I could interest Bucky in a possible investigation of Carmine and Richard. Assuming that whatever they were doing was criminal, I was sure it involved interstate commerce, which automatically would bring it under federal jurisdiction. 




Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 13



The next three days dragged by slowly. There wasn't much joy around the apartment, either. I hadn't told them about my pending appointment with Bucky, but Bette and Louise apparently sensed and were responding to my mood. 

I was about to put my professional life in the hands of a man who had never liked me and, most certainly, would like me even less when he heard my sanitized version of the circumstances in which I found myself. I rehearsed my story over and over, searching for flaws and inconsistencies that might trip me up. I knew Bucky would find them if they existed.

We met at the appointed time and place and exchanged a falsely hearty handshake. We sat at a table in the corner. He drank a Gibson while I nursed a Bud. The waitress took our orders and the menus. "What's going on in your life, these days?" Bucky asked. Small talk was over.

Not mentioning any names, I said slowly, "I'm in a funny position with some people I suspect may be involved in some sort of criminal activity." I had his full attention.

"What do you mean, `criminal activity'?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," I said, "but whatever it is, it's interstate, and therefore, federal. Let me say first, Bucky, that one of my major threshold concerns is an ethical issue." He raised his eyebrows at that. I wasn't sure whether he was evincing professional curiosity or making a cynical comment about me and ethics in general. I decided it was the former.

I described Carmine and Richard. "They are involved with people I know who make and distribute blue movies. Those people are sort of clients of mine." 

He raised his eyebrows again at my `sort of' clients. "Isn't that like being a little pregnant?" he asked.

I made a helpless gesture with my hands and sighed. "I know," I said. 

Bucky was all business. His eyes had sharpened, and his voice was now harsh. "I think you'd better come into the office and make a statement," he said.

I shook my head. "It's too early," I said. "I don't really have anything yet. I had hoped you might know something about Richard and Carmine."

He smiled patronizingly at me. "There are a million Richards and Carmines out there," he said. "All of them willing to blow you away if you make a nuisance of yourself. I know you're trying to protect your professional ass, but you don't have a chance against guys like them. I'm telling you, for old time's sake, come on in and get it on paper. Then we'll see what we can do."

He didn't scare me; he terrified me. I was cooked no matter which way I jumped. Carol's ominous `we many have another assignment for you next week' was ringing in my ears as I reflected that Bucky was doing this by the numbers. 

I didn't blame him. That's exactly how my problems had started. I should have stuck to the numbers. As it was, I merely shook my head again. "I really don't have anything for you yet, Bucky. But as soon as I do, you can count on my full cooperation."

Lunch was over. I picked up the check, and we shook hands at the door. "Keep in touch," Bucky said, "and take care. I don't want to read about you in the morning paper."

I called Wilma when I returned to the office, and caught her in her apartment. She sounded surprised and annoyed. "It's nice of you to call," she said coldly.

"I'm sorry I didn't call earlier," I said, "but things kind of piled up on me."

Her tone immediately softened. "I've got a nice $50 bottle of Thunderbird in the fridge," she said. "How about it? I might even let you cop a feel."

I was very tempted, but my paranoia was running away with me. My first thought was of the possibility that I might lead someone to her.

"Honey," I said, "nothing has changed; I still feel like a school boy where you're concerned, but I'm in a bit of a jam at the moment. I've got to solve some serious problems before next week. I'll call you on Monday and tell you all about it. OK?"

"Take care, Jim," she said softly. "I don't want anything to happen to my favorite schoolboy."

That was the only bright spot all week. Bucky was right. I was in serious, perhaps even mortal danger. Still, I knew I had to go through with this last party. I didn't dare ignore it, and although I briefly considered it, common sense told me that running away was not an option. I even considered calling Steve or Carol to see if I could ransom myself free; but looking at it from their point of view, I could see no reason why they might be willing to release me. Their blackmail hooks were in too deep for me to wiggle free. My only hope was to act dumb; as if nothing were wrong, while I looked for their inevitable weak point. 

Louise didn't like being left out. She's always ready to party. But she knew my strategy was sound; that any scrap of information we could keep away from Carol and Steve was all to the good. They didn't know Louise was here, and I wasn't about to tell them.

Bette was unquenchable. She dressed with the same care that she had always shown. As far as she was concerned, this was going to be a fun night. After she showered, she applied her strategic perfume. I watched her lean over the dressing table applying her eye liner, and admired the way her garter belt accentuated the dimples in her curvy ass. For a brief moment, I even felt the familiar pangs in my loins. 

Then Louise came into the room and began telling me that she wanted either to come with us to the party or to do a little partying of her own downtown in the hotel bar. 

"You'll do better downtown," I said. "I think it would be a mistake for you to show up at Satin Studios. They don't like you very well. Things are bad enough for me. I don't think you ought to go out there."

She screwed up her face and wrinkled her nose. "You're right. I'm being silly. I think I will go downtown and see what's going on."

She went into the back bedroom to start getting herself ready, and I stripped, ready to jump into the shower. 

The phone rang. I didn't think it would be for me; the girls had enough regulars now, so they got fairly frequent calls that usually resulted in one or the other calling a cab. But since they were both busy, I answered it. It was a man's voice. "Marta there?"

"She's in the other room. Want me to get her?"

"Naa, jes tell her Rob called, OK?" "OK," I said as Rob broke the connection.

I walked into the back bedroom. Louise was naked except for the shower cap on her head and the towel in her hand.

"Was that call for me?"

"Yes. It was Rob. He just wanted me . . ." Louise's face turned ashen, and her eyes rolled back in her head. I jumped forward and caught her before she crumpled to the floor. "Bette!" I called. "Come here, quick!"

We stretched Louise out, placing her feet on a pillow. The color quickly returned to her face, and she opened her eyes. "Jesus Christ," she whispered, "I haven't done that since I was in the 10th grade."

She rolled over and started to get up. I said, "Why don't you stay there for a couple of minutes?" 

She shook her head and climbed to her feet. 

"Who is Rob?" I asked.

She had her composure back. "Somebody from the past." she said firmly, ending the questions.

The man had asked for Marta. That meant it was somebody from Louise's earlier hustling days. I wondered how he had found her. One of life's little mysteries, I suppose, but that didn't explain why she had keeled over. I had never seen her faint before. Louise wasn't the fainting kind.

"Look," I said, "I know you're not much interested in any advice I might offer, but, you know, you've had a shock. Why don't you just hang around here tonight? Get some rest."

Louise smiled. "I appreciate your concern more than you know," she said. "But I'm a big girl. It'll do me good to get out of the house for a while."

"Suit yourself," I said. I quickly washed off the day's accumulated grunge and went into the bedroom to dress. Bette had laid out slacks and a knit sports shirt. Comfortable clothes. 

She looked comfortable, too. She had decided to wear the same crotchless panties and half bra she had worn the previous weekend on her last foray. "I thought you never brought panties home," I said.

She rolled her eyes. "I don't have to take these off," she said, demonstrating with her finger the utilitarian advantage crotchless panties had over the old-fashioned kind. "That looks good enough to eat," I said, finally beginning to get into the spirit of things. 

"They make edible panties, too," she said helpfully. 

"Get some clothes on," I said, "Or we'll be having a party right here."

"Sounds good to me," Bette said. 

I didn't stop to inquire what sounded good. I knew I had to go to the party; it was shoot-out time in the OK Corral, and the longer I watched that sexy little body, the more difficult it was to stick to my guns.

We dropped Louise at the hotel and turned toward the bridge. It was a very dark night. I hoped Su Lin and Stick had gotten there while it was still light.

The space in front of the house was full of carelessly parked cars, so I drove to the barn where I turned the car around so it was facing toward the highway. I knew we might have to leave in a hurry. Taking no chances, I left the car keys under the passenger's seat. Arm in arm, Bette and I walked back to the house.

Several new people in addition to Su Lin and Stick were there. I saw Su Lin first across the room talking to George McLaran, who was obviously staking out his trapline. The prick. I didn't like the guy, but Bette had thought he was gangbusters. That's how women are.

Su Lin saw me and waved. Bette disappeared. I fixed myself a drink and wandered toward Su Lin. Just before I got there, I saw a man in a wheelchair out on the patio. Thinking he must be Stick, I decided to introduce myself.

"Hi," I said, "you must be Stick."

He smiled crookedly, "How'd you figure that out?"

Then seeing my face, he quickly added, "I'm sorry. There's no excuse for that!"

"Hey, come on," I said. "You got a right to say anything you want."

"No," he said, pushing his wheels back and forth, "this is the first party I've been to since I got hurt, and I guess I'm over compensating or something."

I stuck out my hand. "I'm Jim Bromfield," I said. "I'm Su Lin's friend -- and I'd like to be your friend, too, if you'll let me."

"Yeh, I know who you are," he said. "You're the only guy here who knows my name." We shook hands. "What's the drill,?" he asked.

"Well, some of Steve's regulars usually put on a little show to get things going. Then it's every man for himself. The usual swing. Only this one is a class act because there's so much fine nooky here. Plus, nobody's in a hurry to go home. Most people, almost everybody, will stay overnight. Some will even stay tomorrow night."

"These parties must be expensive. If all this is free, I don't see what your friends get out of it," Stick said.

"Three things," I said. "To begin, Steve and Carol like to party. They are very active swingers and have been for a long time. "Second, you've got to remember that they're in the dirty movie business. The party gives the people who've been fucking the other actors all week a chance to branch out, blow off some steam.

"Finally, a party like this is good business. It gives them a chance to return favors, maybe do a little business." Stick listened carefully. I wasn't surprised, considering what he had at stake. 

"Well, they're one man short tonight," he said bitterly.

"I don't believe that," I said. "Would you like me to introduce you around?"

"No, I think I'll just sit out here for a while," he said.

"Suit yourself," I said. I went back inside. Su Lin had disappeared. A tall, willowy blonde walked past me on her way to the kitchen. She wore a tight gray dress that outlined her buttocks as if it had been painted on. The dress reached only to mid thigh. I wondered if the rest of her was as good as her fine legs. Only one way to find out. I followed her to the bar.

"Anything you need that you can't find?" I asked.

She turned. The rest of her looked good, too. Her bosom swelled invitingly above an obviously taut stomach. She carried her head high, and her makeup and elaborately casual hair styling made me wonder if she was a model or a high class call girl. I was dimly aware of a musky scent that beckoned to a fundamental part of my being.

"Are you a host?" she asked. Her husky voice sent chills up my spine. I don't usually notice eye color, but hers were a startling emerald green. Suddenly, I wanted very badly to see her naked.

I smiled. "Not quite," I said, "but I've been here before, and I have a pretty good idea where things are. My name is Jim Bromfield."

"Well, how do you do, Jim Bromfield?" she said holding out her hand, "I'm Cynthia Brown. Maybe you've heard of me." She smiled and a dimple appeared in her right cheek.

I wanted to keep this conversation going. I was searching for an appropriate topic, when she asked, "Aren't you the man who has two working girls?"

I almost dropped the glass. The erotic fantasy I had begun vanished. Not only did I not want to see that woman naked, I didn't want to see her at all. "Who told you that?" I croaked, my throat suddenly dry and raspy. "The word gets around," she said. She smiled again. "Do you want to sell them?"

I seriously wondered if I could be hallucinating. "What the hell are you talking about?" I asked. Admit nothing; deny everything. Good sound legal advice.

"I guess you don't know who I am," she said.

"You're right," I said.

"Evidently, you read the wrong papers," she said. "If you read the local tabs, you'd know they call me Hollywood's most infamous madam."

I thought the name was familiar. 

"I understand you've got one girl who gives terrific head. Then you've got the little one. They line up for that kind of stuff. Is she here tonight?" 

I started to shake my head, but Bette came bouncing into the kitchen. She looked quickly at Cynthia, then to me. "Guess what?" she said. "Carol has asked me to play the school marm again. Better get a good seat."

Cynthia said, "You must be Bette. I'm Cynthia. I'm going to sit right next to Jim. I want to see you, too."

Bette left, and Cynthia grinned at me. "She's cute and wholesome. You and I are going to do business before this night is over." Ignoring what must have been a stricken look on my face, she took my hand and led me to a pair of beanbag chairs near the center of the room. I noticed that Barb Adams was talking to a suddenly animated Stick in the corner. Maybe things would work out for him after all. I hoped so. 

Cynthia gracefully sank into her beanbag. Despite the horror I felt, I had to admire her style. It's not easy to do anything in a skirt as short and tight as hers, certainly not gracefully. I wondered if Su Lin would like to meet Cynthia. I was thinking about the possible demand for pregnant women, in case her movie career didn't work out.

People settled down around us. I glanced around at Stick and noticed that Barb was sitting on the floor next his chair, and that he already had a hand down the front of her blouse. I sighed. I would have preferred sitting next to her myself, especially considering my present company.

Steve stepped up on the stage and gave his little talk. Then he introduced the evening entertainment.

The act was similar to the one we had seen the first time we had come to a Satin Studio party. Eventually Bette made her appearance. Pretending to be the children's mother this time, she burst onto the stage. As before, Lucy fled into the audience where, I'm sure, a sympathetic adult was ready to dry her tears. 

Bette, in the meanwhile, put Jim over her lap. But instead of spanking his bare bottom, she began to caress it, paying particular attention to his scrotum and asshole. Then she stood him to one side, and repeated the strip she had performed on our first night at the studio. She started by unpinning her hair. She unbuttoned, untied, rolled down, concealed, flashed, and when the audience saw those upturned breasts, men and women alike began to applaud.

Cynthia said, "She's good." She stretched like a great cat. "I'll rub yours if you'll rub mine," she said quietly.

Her skirt was bunched in her lap. Her legs were spread. Her emerald eyes glittered as she massaged the damp spot in the front of her nearly sheer panties. 

Much as I disliked and feared the woman, those wet panties made a compelling argument and I slid next to her. Instead of merely petting the spot, I quickly slid a finger under the elastic and found her slit.

"Two can play at that game," she said. She unzipped my fly and slipped her hand inside, digging into my shorts. She made a big deal out of it -- I know I'm not that hard to find -- but soon she had my stiffening shaft standing straight in the air.

I was so focused on Cynthia's svelte body and the gentle hand job she was giving me, that I missed the rest of Bette's performance. "Move your finger down just a little." Cynthia said.

I glanced toward the stage. Bette was on her back, wide-spread feet in the air. I didn't recognize the man between her legs who was pounding himself into her. Cynthia approved. "I like that girl more and more all the time," she said. Cynthia was fast becoming more friendly. By now, she was sprawled across my lap, trying to reach my member with her mouth without dislodging the three fingers I had in her cunt.

A man I didn't recognize climbed on the stage and stood over the copulating couple, stroking himself with his right hand. I don't know if he was waiting for seconds, or was merely content to jack off all over the loving couple. I never found out.

"For Christ's sake, George!" A woman's disgusted voice rose over the seductive sounds of active sex around us. A red haired woman wearing an opened blouse and displaying a shapely bare breast under a dislodged bra cup climbed up on the stage. With an apologetic smile at Bette, who courteously smiled back, she led her errant male off the stage. Cynthia, meanwhile, turned so she was half lying on my diddling hand, holding my cock firmly in her mouth as if she were smoking a cigar. She rolled those remarkable eyes up at me. 

"Ugg ug?" she inquired.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," I said.

She lifted her head. "I said, `are you comfortable?'"

I shook my head. "Are you?"

She made a face. "I don't really like the group scene," she said, "let's go find a place."

I took a last look at Bette, who now was being screwed by another man I didn't recognize. She got a lot of milage out of these parties, but I still thought it was something of a busman's holiday for a working girl.

Cynthia led me into the hall. The first bedroom we reached was empty, and we entered. Cynthia looked at me when I closed the door. "I don't do greek," she said, "and you can't come in my mouth." She waited expectantly to see if I had any special requirements. 

"I just like to make love," I said, "no frills, nothing special."

As soon as the door closed and Cynthia had turned on the bedside lamp, we began undressing. I watched her unzip her dress and take it off like a coat. She wore matching lavender lingerie. A thin, lace trimmed brassiere cradled her full breasts, and I saw the shadows of her areolas through the fabric. I was particularly glad to see that instead of a garter belt, she wore a pair of thigh-high hose, the kind with elastic tops. All the while, she watched me as intently as I watched her.

I had my shoes and socks off, and stepped out of my pants while she unsnapped her brassiere. Cynthia's breasts, as I expected, were lovely. They were nicely shaped, well supported, and quivered tantalizingly when she moved her body. 

The powerful erection I had experienced earlier from watching the show had disappeared. My poor withered, flaccid member hung sheepishly from my groin. 




Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 13



Cynthia sadly looked at it. "Think there's hope?" 

I shrugged. "We won't know until we try, will we?. In the meantime, here's something that won't go soft on you." I stuck out my tongue.

Cynthia laughed. "I guess I can take a chance," she said, holding up her arms, "Come here, and kiss me."

I sat next to her on the bed and pulled her gently against me. There was a definite stir in my loins when I felt her soft breasts mash against my chest. We pressed our open, working mouths together, and soon began exchanging tongues. She pulled away at last. "How we doing?" she asked, her hand exploring my lap. I felt her touch me. "I think there may be life here after all," she reported.

I ran my hand softly over her smooth breast, barely touching her soft nipple. Involuntarily, she arched her back, seeking a firmer touch, but I continued to tease her nerve endings with an imaginary feather duster. She pushed me back on the bed, and sucked my right nipple into her mouth. I don't know whether she had been talking to Bette or it was just a lucky guess, but she had found the one thing that unfailingly arouses me. I felt myself begin to swell.

Then she moved up so her breasts dangled over my face. She rocked her body from side to side, causing her swinging breasts to slap my face, first on one side, then on the other. In vain, I tried to capture her nipples between my teeth, but she evaded my open mouth and continued to tease me with her pillowy, lovely breasts. Tiring of that, she suddenly turned and mounted my face, grinding her labia into my nose, lips and chin as her hot mouth, in turn, enveloped my manhood. It felt as if my cock were immersed in a milking machine coated with molten honey. We teased and tantalized each other until she broke the contact.

Abruptly, she scooted forward, and without turning, stuffed the tip of my cock into her slit. She suddenly dropped on it. I watched my poor tool bend before it popped inside her. Her tunnel was warm, moist, and soft; a welcome haven for a tired soldier. "Ahhh, that's better," she said. "I like it when I'm on top."

That might have been OK if she had been facing me, but I don't find the sight of women's backs stimulating. I put my arms under my head and lay there watching her back and my little man appear and disappear between her buttocks as she rode me. She began to pick up the pace, working herself into a frenzy. Gradually she slowed, and then she said, "Do you want to get on top now?" 

"Do you think I can?"

"Oh, sure," she said. "I owe you one. Just hurry."

With that, she rolled on her side and spread herself. I rolled over on top of her, cradled between her legs, and waited, poised above her while she inserted my glans into her hot, liquid hole. If I had met the slightest resistance, I'm not sure I could have penetrated her, but she seemed to suck my cock into her. I was mesmerized by those brilliant eyes staring into mine. "Feel better?" she asked.

For an answer, I tried to energize myself. Although the spirit was willing, my flesh was weak, and my feeble erection began to subside. 

After fifteen minutes of frustrating effort, she called it quits. "I don't think this is our night," she said. 

As an answer, I put my arms around her, and rolled her to one side. I was still buried in her, and we lay quietly together, murmuring and stroking one another.

A strange thing happened. I was suddenly aware of a growing tumescence in my loins. She seemed to feel it as soon as I did. She raised her face, and I firmly pressed my lips to her soft, open mouth. She nibbled on my lower lip, and I continued to grow; I got still bigger and stronger. I stroked her sides, her flanks, her hips, and her thighs, while I moved, slowly at first, within her.

She clamped her legs tightly around my waist, and I began to move faster. Suddenly, she spasmed. There was no mistaking the flutter that rocked her body. I pulled my head back and looked at her face. Her eyes were open, but unseeing. Her face was contorted in evident strain, and the veins in her neck for temples pulsed. A flush crossed her face, and she gritted her teeth.

Slowly, her rigid body relaxed. Her eyes came back into focus. she looked at me and smiled. "That was great," she said, "and completely unexpected." 

I kissed the end of her nose. "For a single, crazy minute, there, I was in love with you. For me, I guess that's what it takes."

"I'm sorry," she said, "but my leg is going to sleep. I'm going to have to move."

I was still hard, still buried in her. She looked at me searchingly. "Are you going to be OK?"

"Sure," I said. "No problem."

"We've got to talk later about Bette's future," she said. We could have been talking about sending her to school. Cynthia kissed me again, and said those immortal words that men will die for: "Thanks, Jim. It was great when we got it going." She got up and quickly dressed. She stuffed her underwear in her purse. For this lady, the evening was just beginning.



Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 14



Synopsis: The last chapter opened with Sandra telling Jim and Bette that Jeff had "come out," and given over to his homosexual instincts.

Jim and Bette have gone to a party at Satin Studios. Su Lin and Stick are there, as is Cynthia, Hollywood's "most famous madam" who is eager to obtain Bette for her stable of working girls. Feeling cornered, Jim decides to look around. He believes this is the moment of truth. 

Chapter 14: Paying the Piper

I laid in that rumpled bed for a long time, trying to sort things out. First, I tried to make sense out of some of the things Cynthia had said. When she mentioned two girls, I had assumed, somehow, that she knew about Louise. But then she had referred to `the girl who gives head' I now realized she had been referring to Sandy. They thought Sandy was tricking for me.

There was also the question about where Cynthia had gotten her information. While it seemed likely it was Carol, I failed to see why she would have been so free with such sensitive information, unless the two were linked in some way: a prostitution ring perhaps, or possibly something more sinister.

I remembered Bucky's warning, and I felt a thrill of terror as I thought of Carmine and Richard. I had thought that by coming to the party, I would somehow force a showdown, but I had not seen either of them.

Now that I thought of it, except for his brief appearance as master of ceremonies, I had seen neither Steve nor Carol. Steve had not been much in evidence during my two previous visits; I knew now that he was indulging his voyeuristic impulses by taping various sexual activities, especially the group orgies, but Carol was usually around the party somewhere. I hadn't even seen her tonight.

Much as I hated to do it, I had to get out of the room and mingle. I knew that most people, by this time, would be naked and would probably be congregating around the bar in the kitchen. I began to get out of bed, but then I stopped. I was caught in an odd psychological dilemma.

I was comfortable enough with social nudism, but the thought of doing something dangerous without my pants protecting me seemed oddly preposterous. I suppose that was, in part, a throwback to the days when warriors protected their private parts with armor, and partly, because I knew there was nothing heroic about my pasty, pudgy, naked body. Therefore, from a psychological point of view, before I could even think about doing something brave, I needed at least the flimsy protection of a pair of pants.

And there lay my dilemma. Wearing trousers in that crowd would call unwanted and possibly dangerous attention to myself. I decided to compromise by wearing my briefs and loafers. Feeling very James Bondish, I folded my wallet over the waistband of my briefs in the small of my back.

Any other time, I would have joined the crowd in the kitchen, happy to pander to my voyeur's impulses, but now was not the time. Instead, feeling conspicious and ridiculously overdressed in my Jocky briefs, I slipped into the hall, hurried past the noisy crowd in the kitchen and entered the rec room.

As I stepped into the party room, I heard a woman moan and saw a couple on a mat in the corner. She was on her back, her legs flung wide and her arms wrapped around the neck of her lover. She was energetically rolling her pelvis to meet her partner's thrusts. I couldn't see her face, but as I heard her voice urging her stallion on to greater and more noble efforts, I realized I was watching Su Lin in action.

Remembering the wild sex we had enjoyed on our first encounter, I felt myself stir. When Su Lin put aside the commercial aspects of sex and concentrated on having a good time, she was capable of a spectacular performance. Even in my worried and confused state of mind, I hoped her performance was being observed by Steve or Carol. It would vindicate my judgment and might result in a break for her.

Then I smiled ruefully. What the hell was I thinking? There were no careers here, only mysterious, shadowy, and sinister characters who, quite frankly, scared the shit out of me!

I wandered down the hall toward the office. I don't know what I expected when I slowly opened the door, but the sight of Carol on her knees sucking Carmine was not high on the list. She was naked to the waist. Carmine, sitting on the couch, reached down, and absently tweaked her reddened nipples while watching the same TV monitor on the wall where I had seen his performance two weeks earlier. I tried to see what had Carmine so enthralled that he hadn't seen or heard me coming.

It was a top view of Su Lin and her stud. Then that angle faded, and another, more intimate shot of his penis pistoning in and out of her welcoming tunnel filled the screen. I remembered the elaborate recording setup in the office. Then, I had assumed that Steve or Carol, or both, were merely indulging a little harmless voyeurism. Now I realized they were acquiring stock footage; making movies, using unknowing and unpaid actors. The lawyer in me cringed at the awful civil liabilities they were incurring. However, remembering the several group orgy scenes in Louise and Phil's picture, I had to admire their ingenuity. Hiring that many extras could easily have made the picture's cost prohibitive. 

I watched Carol for a moment. Her cheeks alternately ballooned and hollowed as she moved her head. Her right hand was wrapped nearly around his penis, which she was briskly stroking while she sucked. She didn't look happy, but Carmine seemed oblivious to her mood. His gaze never wavered from the action on the screen. I sensed this was payback time.

I had no sympathy for her. I was remembering what she had put me through in the past week. I quietly closed the door and retraced my steps to the kitchen to freshen the nearly empty glass I held.

The kitchen was empty. I wondered where the crowd was. I began by looking in the bedrooms, although I would have been surprised if people had separated this early. The rooms were empty. 

I went back into the hall and peeked into the office where I had seen Carol and Carmine. They were gone, too, and the TV screen was blank 

Jesus Christ, I thought, where is everyone? I went outside by the pool. Then I saw the lights on in the barn. Obviously, I was missing something. I started in that direction, and then stopped. What am I thinking? This was the perfect opportunity to do a little snooping.

I hurried back to the house. My heart was beating almost audibly, and I began to hyperventilate as though I had just run a 100-yard sprint. Nervous sweat felt cold and slick as it trickled down my ribs from my armpits when I opened the door to the office.

The light was still on. I decided to leave the door open so I could hear people coming back into the house. My first target was Steve's desk.

I had no idea what to look for. I opened the lap drawer. It contained the usual clutter of junk -- staple removers, paper clips, dry ballpoint pens, broken pencils and Post-it pads. Nothing there. Then I opened the top drawer in the pedestal. This was more like it. I found a couple of ledgers, some letters fastened together with rubber bands, and a sheaf of paper that looked like a movie script.

I had no time to examine anything. The second drawer was a file drawer. It was locked. There was no point in trying to force the lock. Stymied, I glanced around the room. Then I thought of the Purloined Letter, and my eye fell on an appointment book in the middle of the desk. 

I picked it up. It was Carol's. I quickly leafed through it, and found two interesting phone numbers and one appointment. I grabbed a scrap of paper and was writing the numbers down when I heard Su Lin talking to someone in the hall. 

I scrambled around the desk and peeked cautiously around the corner. Su Lin was talking to Steve, who was standing with his back to me. Su Lin saw me slip out the door and hurry down the hall. Whoever said whores don't have hearts of gold?

She saved my ass by keeping Steve distracted until I was safely outside the house, where I joined a group returning from the barn. The palms of my hands were still slick with sweat, and I was surprised they couldn't hear my heart pounding or smell the fear that was nearly making me nauseous.

I pretended a nonchalance I was far from feeling. One thing I now know. I don't begin to have what it takes to become a successful burglar. 

I followed the crowd into the kitchen and poured myself a steadying jolt of bourbon. When I turned, Carol was standing behind me. She wore only an opened shirt.

"Why hi, Jim," she said in mock surprise. "Been busy already, I see." She glanced meaningfully at my shorts.

"We've got a new film I'd like you to see, Jim. When you have a moment, stop by the office."

"How about now?" I said. I assumed it would be the same film Carmine had watched minutes earlier.

"Fine." She led the way to the office. As shaken as I was, I still admired the way her naked ass cheeks undulated as she walked in front of me. Whatever else she lacked, it seemed she made up for in the way her hips and buttocks moved. It was very easy to fall in love with Carol's body.

It was also easy to fall out of love with her. Steve was sitting behind the desk when I walked into the office. I had eyes only for a frightened Su Lin cowering in a corner. Carol closed the door behind me. A chill ran down my spine.

"Sit down, Jim," Steve said in a cold voice, "What we're about to see is pure cinéma vértité."

I sat in a club chair while he punched a remote and the screen lighted. Instead of Su Lin's most recent performance, which I expected to see, we were treated to a picture of James L. Bromfield, clad only in his Jockey shorts, timidly tiptoeing into the room, looking around, and rummaging through the desk. Then it faithfully recorded my picking up the appointment book and beginning to write something when I suddenly started.

"I especially like this part," Steve said, as the camera followed me out the door, and another one picked up my flight down the hall with Su Lin looking on.

Oh, shit! I said to myself. There was nothing to do but brazen it out. 

Steve sadly shook his head. "What are we going to do with you?" he said. "We thought you were on our side, but we can't have this, you know."

I think it may have been the patronizing tone in his voice that finally stiffened my backbone. Suddenly, much to my surprise, I became very angry. Not wildly or unthinkingly angry, but angry in an icy, analytical way that honed my mental processes. 

Feeling strangely flushed, and suddenly almost drunk with power, I stretched my legs and leaned back in my chair, looking at Steve through half closed eyes. "You've been on my case from day one," I said slowly. "Only day one didn't start here. It started with that movie featuring Phil's cock and Louise's craziness.

"You wanted to make a film featuring Phil's cock. Corrine wasn't interested in working with him, and Bette couldn't. Then two things happened to Phil. He lost his job, and he met Louise. Suddenly, the film you wanted to make fell into your lap.

"You didn't know how I would react to seeing my wife in a porno flick. You were particularly concerned about that when you discovered I was a lawyer." I paused for breath, but my mind was suddenly in overdrive. I decided to try a bluff.

"Ordinarily, you wouldn't give a rat's ass what I thought -- except for the possible inconvenience of a law suit -- but that movie had already gone interstate on the internet, and your ass was on the line because Louise fucked Blair in that movie, which could be very awkward for you, because Blair was only 17 at the time."

I shook my head. "Child pornography is seriously against the law." I turned to Carol. "Bette told you that Louise had come back, didn't she? Then you had Rob call Louise -- to try to scare her off?"

Carol looked startled. "How'd you know about Rob?" she demanded.

"Never mind," I said, mindful of the old saw about the guilty fleeing where none pursued. I felt invincible. I added, "He was in that movie, too, wasn't he? And `Marta' was the screen name you gave her, wasn't it?"

Carol nodded, her eyes fixed on my face.

I turned to Steve. "You're very clever," I said. "I don't know which of you thought of bringing me into the business, but I'm sure Bette was in on it, because she convinced me -- what little convincing I needed -- that accepting your offer was all gain and no pain. I was dumb enough and horny enough to ignore that old adage that says `if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.'

"You've been working with Bette all along, haven't you? She told you when we would be going to the Ten/ Thirty Club." I paused again.

Again, Steve began to interrupt me, but after glancing at Carol, he closed his mouth again.

"The hell of it is, you didn't know enough to quit when you were ahead. I was fully committed to the business until you got cute by doctoring the tape of our first meeting to coerce me into turning Bette out, thereby exposing myself to more blackmail. And then, dumbest thing of all, you intimidated me with Carmine." 

I turned to Carol. "None of that was necessary. I was quite willing to go along until you began turning up the heat. That business with Carmine scared me so badly that I went to a classmate who is now an assistant federal district attorney. I paused to let that sink in while I tried to look both mysterious and supreme- ly confident, which is hard to do when you're wearing only Jockey shorts.

"I thought I was representing you at the time," I continued, "so although I described my concerns to him, I withheld your name and the studio's identity, even though he urged me to make a formal statement." 

Steve had begun rummaging in the locked file drawer as I spoke. He brought out a slip of paper which he handed me. It was a photocopy of the notarized statement that I had given Bette about soliciting her for prostitution.

"Did you tell him about this?" Steve asked, waving the paper, "or that you took Bette across a state line for immoral purposes?" His indirect reference to the Ten/Thirty Club and the Mann Act was dated, but it still had enough punch to make additional trouble for me if Bucky happened to be so inclined.

"No," I admitted, "I didn't." I paused. "I don't know how you feel, but this looks to me like a Mexican stand-off. Let's see if we can work this out.

"You've got something I want; I've got something you want. Let's make a trade. First, though, I'll need two pieces of paper and a pen. Somehow, I neglected to bring one with me."

That modest bit of humor barely lightened the mood in the room, but Carol smiled while she handed me the materials I requested.

I thought for a moment, then turned toward Su Lin. "What's your last name?" I asked.

She looked anxiously at Carol before she answered, "Bartlett," she said, spelling it out.

I hurriedly wrote a paragraph, which I dated and signed. "Su Lin, honey. This is for you," I said, extending the paper in her direction.

Looking puzzled, she stepped forward, her soft breasts bouncing and swaying as she moved. Her stomach seemed even more pronounced. 

"Carol, Steve, meet your new partner," I said. "I've just quit-claimed my interest in Satin Studios to Su Lin and Stick Bartlett."

Then I scribbled a second paragraph. This paper, I handed to Steve. "That is my resignation as your attorney. Notice that I dated it today. That means I am bound by my oath as an attorney and the Canon of Professional Ethics on pain of disbarment not to reveal anything that has passed between us prior to this date. In other words, everything I know about your operation is privileged, and therefore, not only is inadmissible in a court of law, but I could be severely punished and lose my license if I revealed it to anyone." 

I held out my hand. "I think I'm entitled," I said.

Steve grinned. "I guess you are," he said. He drew a thick file from his file drawer and handed it to me.

I accepted it, turned, and with as much dignity as I could muster, left the room. I was relieved and crazy and scared shitless all at once. Things were happening almost too fast. I opened the file as soon as I was out of the room, and was relieved to find a video tape and the original solicitation I had given Bette.

I stopped in the room I had shared with Cynthia to retrieve my pants. Cynthia was there comforting a frightened Bette. Su Lin followed me into the room.

Turning to Su Lin, I said, "Go find Stick. We've got to get out of here." She turned and hurried away.

I wasn't sure even now, but there was a possibility that Steve might be having second thoughts and was arranging for an accident to occur before we reached town. Despite my assurances about attorney-client privilege, I was afraid they might think I knew too much to be allowed to walk away. 

Bette was sitting on the bed, still dressed only in her panties and bra. "You, too, Bette. Get your dress on. We've got to get going!" 

Cynthia had her arm around Bette's shoulder. Neither seemed ready to move. 

"Come on, Bette," I said again, more urgently, "We've got to get out of here while we can." 

Cynthia looked at me. "Bette wants to go home with me," she said. 

I felt as if someone had just knocked the wind out of me. "What do you mean, Bette wants to go home with you?" I demanded, much louder than I intended.

"Hush!" Cynthia said. "You tell him, Bette." 

"She's right, Jim," Bette said, looking at the floor. "I've been thinking about this for a long time." She looked up at me, her eyes pleading for understanding. "You remember, Jim. I almost left that time with Louise." Her eyes began to water.

"You're a wonderful guy, Jim, and I love you to pieces, but I know we don't belong together. You don't want the same things I do. We're just not compatible. Maybe with me out of the way you can get back with Louise." She began to cry and blindly held her arms out to me. I gave her a warm embrace, and kissed a secret place near her ear that only she and I knew about.

"If that's the way you really feel, honey, you know I won't try to stop you. But, for God's sake take care of yourself. Make those guys wear rubbers!" 

She gave me a soggy kiss, and turned to Cynthia, who did an odd thing. She held out her hand. "You're a bigger man than I thought, Jim. I hope we can get together again one of these days. I think I'd like to know you better." We shook hands.

I was dressed by then. I turned back to Bette. "You know the telephone number." She smiled a little with me; we were both remembering Louise's ad.

I gave her a last kiss on the tip of her nose. 

Stick and Su Lin were waiting in the parking lot. Su Lin had told Stick about the meeting in the office, and their new property.

Su Lin said, "I told Stick, but first, we've got to get out of here in one piece."

I nodded, "If you don't mind, I'd like to share your car going home. It's a rental, and they won't have had a chance to tinker with it. I'm not sure about the brakes on mine." 

Su Lin's eyes grew round. "Are these people really like that?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said, "but I think that's the way we had better play it. It's safer. Besides, I was only guessing about half the time in there, but it looks as if my guesses were pretty good." 

Our trip back to town was uneventful. On the way, I explained what I knew and suspected, "I may not have done you any favors by giving you that stock. You see, Steve and Carol use hidden cameras to take films of their parties, especially the orgy scenes. I suspect they have been feeding the orgy scenes to the internet on a regular basis. I know they used that material in their films.

"As a lawyer, I can't begin to imagine the civil liabilities they may have incurred or the damages to which they might have to respond. On the other hand, as a swinger, I have a hard time imagining that anyone recognizable in those scenes is likely to want to draw the sort of attention to themselves that a lawsuit would entail.




Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 14



"What I'm saying is that although the theoretical risk is there, I don't think it's very likely to occur. But since you and Stick are now equal partners, this is something you have to know.

"One more thing. I still don't know where Carmine and Richard fit into the picture, but I have a feeling that Stick, here, may be tough enough to deal with them. If you can get Steve and Carol to clean up their act, it's just possible that you may have a gold mine on your hands." 

Then, for the first time in my career, I solicited a client. "I'll be glad to represent you," I said.

Stick reached behind Su Lin and silently squeezed my shoulder. Su Lin turned and kissed my cheek.

I dropped Su Lin and Stick, and told Su Lin I'd pay for the car. Then, after I pulled Stick's wheelchair from the trunk, Su Lin gave me a quick kiss. "Thanks for everything, Jim. I'd be very grateful if you could stay involved in Satin Studios. Thanks for offering." She kissed me again. Stick and I shook hands, and I watched them cross the sidewalk to their apartment.

It was late. Not wanting to take chances, I avoided the garage, and parked on the street. Then I let myself in the apartment building and rode the elevator to my floor. 

The apartment was empty. A note in Louise's handwriting was pinned to the back of my chair. Fearful what it would say, my hands began to tremble and even before I touched it, I went into the kitchen and poured three fingers of bourbon into a water glass. Then, sipping the whiskey, I read her note.

Dear Jim, 

When you read this, you'll 

probably know why I wanted to go to the studio

tonight. I thought I could get them to lay off

you because I know things about that movie that

they don't want spread around. The only problem 

is, they know some stuff about Marta that I

don't want spread around, either. That's why

Rob called.

So I have decided to take Marta

away where we'll be safe, and nobody can find

us. I know Bette will take good care of you. 

We had it good, and I'll always 

love you.

Louise

I had a second blast of bourbon, and after checking the locks on the door, I tumbled into bed.

I slept until noon the next day. The next morning God, was it only Saturday? I prepared an omelet and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast. Then I drove down to the office and spent a productive day catching up on work I had let slide.

The following morning, after my usual omelet, I read the Sunday paper. Then I watched a baseball game. 

Monday, I drove the rental car to the office and called the company to arrange to keep it for an additional couple of days. In mid- afternoon, I suddenly needed to talk to someone. Besides, I needed someone to help retrieve my car. I flipped open my Rolodex, and found Wilma's number. Then, on second thought, I pulled Sandy's. I suppose I stared at those two telephone numbers for five minutes before I picked up the receiver and began to dial.

The End

I hope you enjoyed this book as much as I did writing it. 

Denny (aka sealawyer)