2 comments/ 10264 views/ 3 favorites Lev and Lauren By: kalodin Note: I suppose it's not good to do so, but I need to start with an apology to any Jewish readers if I have misused or abused the richly expressive Yiddish words and phrases that appear herein. So as not to distract I have included a brief list of Yiddish words and phrases at the end of the piece with their English meanings. Also I certainly hope I have not inadvertently insulted anyone by my attempt to frame this story in a Jewish context. Years ago I attended Navy Journalist School . In retrospect rather oddly (1963), there was a delicious and hot little Jewish girl from NYC in the class. Although she had a boyfriend (another gentile like me I think) we were increasingly attracted to each other and our relationship become very hot in the last days of the school. For what it's worth I dedicate this piece to her with fond memory. --- Lauren thought he was a thug. Initially she mistook him for one of the day laborers hired to help unload the mover's truck. It appalled her when she realized that he was actually her new neighbor in the adjoining half of her duplex. She thought he was homely, brutish looking. His nose looked like it had been broken (as it had been at least three times that he could remember). There was an old scar high on one cheek under his left eye. His gray hair was short, virtually a buzz cut that emphasized his oval face. The lines in his face said 60 or more years must have passed since his benighted mother pushed out this "ape" as Lauren thought of him. His eyes were dark , watchful and unwavering under eyebrows bushy and black with flecks of gray. They were bushy brows that would have humbled the United Mine Workers fiery former leader, John L. Lewis. His lips were full, almost feminine; she thought them oddly out of place in that face. His arms seemed to Lauren to be too long for his body; rather simian she thought icily. He was big boned and those long arms were muscled and sinewy. Although clean shaven he had a Nixon-like heavy beard; raspy by 2 p.m., even if he shaved in the morning. His chest and torso looked like a heavy barrel set upon two tree stumps. While he was nearly six feet tall he looked shorter because of the thickness of his body. Hairy too, she thought, shuddering inside at the black and gray hair that could be seen within his partially unbuttoned shirt. He wore shorts so she could see that his legs were quite hairy. He had to be Jewish to be moving into this seniors community where everybody was; not by compulsion but by weight of numbers and preference in the larger area where so many Jewish people lived . She speculated he came from peasant stock somewhere in Poland or Lithuania or who knows; anywhere in the Pale of Settlement that had stretched from the Baltic to the Black Sea. Such a shvarts change, she thought. The previous owners, the Feldmans had been such wonderful, genteel neighbors; from respectable families, educated, witty, vivacious people with whom she and Mort had been close friends. She missed them greatly. They played duplicate bridge in the same club; took cruises together, Mort and Edgar golfed, and Alice and Lauren partnered in tennis and they all played mixed doubles. They dined out together; went to concerts and the theatre and casinos with the Feldmans. Edgar Feldman's company, gone now, had manufactured purses. Before his death, Lauren's late husband, Mort had operated a small chain of men's clothing stores and sold out to retire comfortably. Edgar Feldman had been frisky sometimes and she had not begrudged him a feel of her breasts and bum, or inside her thighs when everyone had too much to drink and all were feeling raunchy. But he was easily controlled and it went no further. It turned out that Mort liked to feel up Alice too. She and Alice laughed together when they told each other about the other's spouse's shenanigans; they were sophisticated people, cultured and respectable. They never traded spouses in bed. Mort had been an attentive lover although her libido exceeded his and she could not cajole him into trying all the things she fantasized about. She had made up for the shortfall with sex toys and masturbation but never a lover. Now Mort and Edgar were in the ground and Rachel was lost somewhere, locked within the mists of Alzheimer's in a nursing home. Visiting her was sadly pointless. Save for solo masturbation, sex had gone out of Lauren's life as well long before she buried Mort some five years earlier. She had not met any gentlemen she judged to be of breeding and quality equal to her own. Lauren's family, the Zweigs, had been German aristocrats for 200 years before barely escaping from Nazi Germany in 1938. They brought with them their infant daughter Sarah (Lauren's given name) on an unbelievably frightening flight through Eastern Europe to Greece and somehow to Morocco from whence, on a leaky hulk they miraculously reached New York. They paid their way with gold coins and diamonds that Lauren's mother carried in her body. Her mother and father never looked back and their little import/export business grew until they became at least as prosperous as the family had been with its land and factoring interests in Germany before Hitler and his henchmen had stolen it all and murdered most of her relatives. Lauren was acutely aware of and proud of her aristocratic origins despite what Germany had done to her family and her people. Her view of her place in the world, culled from study and the snatches of overheard conversations of her parents, had been reinforced by a pampered youth and quality education in very exclusive and private schools for daughters of wealthy families; nominally non-sectarian the students were mostly Jewish. It was a shame that Lauren's sex life had largely been buried with Mort. She was a handsome, buxom woman in her 67th year. She was proud of her full breasts but they did sag some, as to be expected now when unfettered; still the nipples were yet as sensitive as they had ever been. An open channel of delicious sensory passage from her nipples to her crotch seemed undiminished by the years. She could still bring herself to orgasm by assiduous nipple play without touching her pussy. Her prominent and matronly broad bum had not sagged yet and her well turned legs and thighs were still quite fetching; she considered them to be her best asset. She also thought and rightly so that her vulva was quite attractive, as compared to others she had seen, although, but for her gynecologist and one or two other women incidental to changing in a club or spa locker room, only Mort had seen hers incidental to penetrating her and kissing her nether lips on a few rare occasions when he had done so reluctantly and only after petulant and finally stern cajoling. Comfortable lifestyle had thickened her waist and the two children she had given Mort had left her with a matronly pillow tummy. Old lechers at the community club ogled her in her bathing suit (she had a prominent mound) and tried to befriend her; not infrequently with unabashed "time is running out" candor. But she rejected them all and became known as the ice queen or even more coarsely as "that cold bitch." She did not think of her face as beautiful. She felt her nose was too long and prominent and that her eyes were too closely set in her long face. Still she kept her hair strawberry blond; its original natural color as confirmed by her telltale pubic hair. In repose the inner lips of her labia peeked out between the plump pistolettes of her major labia. The entrance to her vagina lay beneath a prominent fleshy and tufted hillock. When stimulated her "jack in the pulpit" swelled and grew glistening and pulsing out from under its hood. Now as she watched from her front window, not deigning to step out and greet him, the new neighbor turned deliberately and stared at her as though he knew she was watching. A small smile formed on his ugly face and he ducked as though peeking back at her and waved. Lauren quickly jerked away from the window and her face burned with embarrassment and anger. The first thing the asshole had done was catch her peeking and humorously chided her in an unspoken but offensive way. She made up her mind to ignore him. She damned sure was not going to be extending this mamzer any welcome, wagon or otherwise. The baby grand piano surprised Lauren when it emerged from the moving van. His large hands with thick fingers could not be those of a pianist. Perhaps there had been a wife or daughter who played and he had never gotten rid of it. If there had been a wife and children they were not living with him in this place. He moved in alone. She certainly could not conceive of this oaf being cultured in any way. Why did they let people like this live in this exclusive community even if they happened to be Jewish? He drove a Corvette. Lauren thought to herself; an aging Romeo as well. Hardly surprising. It was all of a piece wasn't it; that a troll like this should drive a "pussy magnet." She'd heard Mort and Edgar calling the sports car that coarse name. The sorry bastard probably needed all the help he could get in order to get shtuped. Maybe some pitiful fat old broad would be hard up enough to let him crawl on top of her. The thought of allowing him to make love to her; to put his hands on her, to enter her most private and intimate place; well it disgusted her and it made her shudder. So it chagrined her greatly but privately when some days later she awoke in the night, hot, sweating and drooling from her slack pussy. She found herself roused from a lust soaked dream by a wracking orgasm. In the dream this Neanderthal new neighbor had somehow gained entry and came into her boudoir in all his hairy nakedness with his thick erection preceding him. Rather than being repulsed she eagerly licked it and sucked it. She freely allowed him to put his mouth on her tits and her vulva, his fingers up inside her and his tongue as well ; hands caressing everywhere, pinching and pulling and finally taking the brute's thick hot meat up inside her. Then she fucked and fucked him gloriously until she awoke in an orgasmic storm. How could she think such a thing even in her subconscious? At her age she should be having such sordid sex dreams? She did her best to suppress the image of coupling with him; of pulling his face into the redolent oasis between her legs; of sinking her hot wet sheath down onto his distended rigid cock; at least his cock as she imagined it in her wanton dream state. But it lurked in her subconscious and she found herself with a long dormant and increasingly insistent sexual craving. Castigating herself only seemed to sharpen her un-whetted appetite. Masturbation brought temporary relief but at the same time reinforced the unwanted mental imagery. She made it a point never to be outside when he was arriving or departing his home. He seemed to be content to accept her cold shoulder and did not try to introduce himself or "come on" to her. But after several months Lauren attended a community party at the club. She was enjoying herself when Miriam Walzer tapped on her shoulder and asked Lauren to introduce her new neighbor. Lauren explained that she hadn't met him herself. Before she realized what Miriam was doing she had taken her by the arm, and walked the two of them through the crowd and there he was chatting with the Abe and Edie Kaplan. "Please introduce us to Lauren's new neighbor," Miriam said. "Oh, you haven't met your new neighbor yet Lauren?" This from Edie. "Lauren Hoffman and Miriam Walzer this is Lev Reznik. Lev, this is Lauren and Miriam. Lauren is a widow and Miriam wishes she was too." "Edie, I'll get you for that," Miriam laughed. "Edie lives vicariously. She gets off fantasizing about my sex life." Everyone smiled but Miriam's suggestive remark brought color to Lauren's cheeks. Everyone was used to Miriam's suggestive talk. Ordinarily it would not have provoked any sort of reaction from Lauren. But here she was being introduced to this crude man she had avoided and for once Miriam's humor annoyed her. "Mrs. Walzer and Mrs. Hoffman, it is a privilege to meet you," Lev said. " Mrs. Hoffman and I; well we are so busy with our lives that we've not even seen each other to say hello. I must apologize, madam for not previously introducing myself as the newcomer next door." HIs voice was a pussy vibrator; a rich base, modulated and cultured. He sounded like a radio announcer; she thought of the mellifluous Abba Eban, once Israeli U.N. Ambassador, cultured English without accent. The tones of his words flowed over Lauren and warmed her stomach and groin as though she had tossed back a shot of cognac. She was irked by the way her body betrayed her. The thug, he knew it too; she felt certain. He uttered this little formality with an amused and steady gaze at Lauren until she broke eye contact; furious with herself for doing so. The bastard! She knew he deliberately provoked her. She remained expressionless but looked over Lev's shoulder and spotted the Zuckermans. She said. "I see the Zuckermans and I've been meaning to speak to Rachel. I need to take this opportunity. Edie, Miriam, Abe will you excuse me?" She swept away without waiting for an answer having pointedly and rudely refused to acknowledge Lev or his greeting. (At home later that evening she confirmed by observation the dampness of coital secretion that had wet her underwear. Damn!) Lev drained his drink and remarked, "My glass is suddenly empty. I'm going to get another drink. May I get anything for any of you?" They all mumbled negative thanks and he walked away smiling to himself. A real Jewish princess he thought; family roots in Germany; aristocracy sadly stripped of their position, power and wealth. He had quietly checked her on the old boy network. Lev knew people in obscure jobs in Israel who knew and kept information about a lot of people. He knew with his usual quick insight that she had seen him as a peasant; although not immediately correct about Lev himself, it was true of his parents, who had made their way to Palestine from a shtetl in the Pale before he was born. Lev himself was a Sabra; born in Israel. HIs father had been a member of the secret Haganah . Lev's own background and how he came to be living here rather than Israel was an enigma to those of the community who had met him. They suspected an affiliation with the Mossad but no one mentioned that. Later in the evening, after Lauren snubbed him so coldly, the president of the community association asked for quiet and introduced a special occasion; a new resident of the community had been discovered to have a musical talent. Reluctantly but graciously he allowed himself to be cajoled into playing for the group. The winner of the All Israel Upper Grades piano competition in 1955. Lauren was flabbergasted when he then asked everyone to welcome Lev Reznik. She watched from a distance as this beastly man, with those thick stubby looking fingers, brought forth from the piano the strains of Rachmaninoff's arrangement of Mendelssohn's Scherzo from "A Midsummer Night's Dream." The music washed over everyone and the enthralled assembly fell completely silent. When he concluded the audience erupted in applause and insisted on another piece. He played "Hava Nagila" as an encore and soon had the crowd dancing enthusiastically. She overheard someone say later that for an amateur he played that scherzo very well; that it was a devilish piece for the piano. He was in and out, sometimes gone for several days, sometimes for a week or more. Often when he traveled a big black SUV with dark windows picked him up. A very muscular young man would alight from the vehicle; always looking and checking about carefully before approaching Reznik's door to wait for him; then hustle him into the SUV which would speed away. A couple of times she saw a different, scholarly young man, then a young woman, as both entered the absent Reznik's residence; not only having keys but also both of them obviously knew the code to disarm the alarm system she knew to be installed there. When he was at home he joined in community activities, proving to be a good tennis player, quicker than one would have thought for his age and build, with a hard serve. She and Jack Morgan had been defeated by Reznik and Anita Morgan in a mixed doubles tournament, before they too were eliminated by the tennis elite of the community center. When they shook hands pro-forma after the match the touch of his hand sent a pulse of sexual buzz to her groin; it both frustrated her and again dampened her panties. His hands were not callused but very firm and she could sense the power in them. Yet he held her hand with a light touch. And there was that damned knowing smile; that was the way she saw it. Sure he was charming and seemed open and friendly but something in his dark eyes under those awful eyebrows; there it was and he seemed to her to convey that he knew how her body was responding in complete disobedience to her will. How on earth could she be repulsed by him emotionally yet also endure the erotic craving her body insistently communicated? He also played duplicate bridge at the "Master" level and quickly earned respect for his strong game. Men and women sought to partner with him whenever he was not away, at the afternoon or evening gatherings of the duplicate aficionados. None of this culture and sociability made any difference to the visceral dislike Lauren (so she told herself) held for the man. Moreover he appeared at the pool one day in a small spandex bathing suit, thick, solid and hairy with his gear making a prominent bulge in front. Those long arms were well muscled; not grotesque but clearly he worked at staying in shape. There were many glances and a hum of horny old broad remarks as he swam, then stretched out on a chaise to take some sun. Miriam, the tart, offered to apply sunscreen lotion to his back. He accepted and Lauren could only imagine that the nafka had an orgasm or went home and fucked Saul, her husband, to spurting exhaustion, or both. She went home. But the image of that bulge stayed with her. She had the erotic dream again. Again, somehow he got in her house. Again he appeared at her bedroom door. Although it was dark somehow in her dream she could see him quite well. Again, as before, he was naked and his cock stood out in front of him inflamed and thick and hard erect. Her pussy felt hot and wet. Her mouth dried. She watched as he advanced on her with that damned confident smile. When he reached her bed he said, "I've brought what you want, Lauren my princess." Then he leaned over and kissed her on the lips, forcing his tongue into her mouth. The SOB had his nasty tongue in her mouth but instead of making her ill it aroused her intensely. Then she realized the tongue had transformed to become his cock and she sucked and licked it eagerly. "That's it my princess. Ahhh, yes, yes. You are such a good cocksucker. You are a cock sucking princess." As the dream went on she felt hands on her breasts and nipples, caressing, fondling, pulling and twisting them; setting off flashes of exquisite pleasure. A hand at her pussy massaged her clit faster and faster until she awoke in a shattering orgasm and a stuttering series of secondary climaxes; spasms bolted through her so that she involuntarily and repeatedly clamped and opened and clamped her thighs tightly on the hand, her own hand that so sweetly tortured her sex. She awoke and despite herself continued to vigorously masturbate; furiously massaging her clitoris until she was satiated after half a dozen more orgasms. When she calmed down she was once more at a loss to understand the fixation that had settled like hot, wet -- make you squirm -- sackcloth enveloping her body. Yet another couple of months passed and Lauren was at lunch with Miriam. Lev and Lauren "Some of the others have agreed to auction themselves for the fund raiser," Miriam said. "Has it come to that, Miriam? We are going to prostitute ourselves to raise money for the hospital?" Lauren gave in to her sarcastic streak. "No, of course not. Lauren, don't be silly. Humph! The auction winners get to take the ladies they win out to dinner and that's that. It will be fun; lots of laughs. Give some of these old codgers a thrill. I hope you'll agree to participate Lauren. I know there are lots of men who'd like to be your date." "That's just ridiculous. Besides ho wants to buy a dinner date with a 67 year-old broad? They'll go running in the opposite direction. I'm the ice-queen. I know, I know what they call me, these miserable old codgers. Miriam insisted that Lauren "think about it." She pestered her about the auction until finally, against her better judgment, Lauren agreed. Wednesday before the auction the SUV appeared and swept away after picking up Reznik. Lauren was relieved. She hoped that he would be gone beyond Saturday, the day of the auction. Why, she thought, do I assume that he would bid for a dinner date with me anyway? She tried to push the notion out of her head; realizing that she was projecting and making an assumption. It struck her that she was subconsciously hoping he would bid. Yes, he would bid and someone would meet his bid and top it until ultimately he quit. It would be good to see this Lev Reznik humiliated as he tried to get a date with her. But more fundamentally she told herself she would be most relieved if he simply did not appear. She would, wouldn't she? The night of the auction arrived and Lauren thankfully saw no sign of Reznik. When she left for the Community Center his townhouse looked dark. She assumed he was still away; wherever away was. Auction of the dates with the five women who had agreed to participate were held until the end of the program as a teaser and the highlight of the evening. Thus far 14 men had bid of the 32 who lived in the community. Some of them were married but had wives with Alzheimer's or who had no objection for one reason or another. The others were single, mostly widowers. A few carried oxygen bottles around with them . One afflicted old gent had a urine collection bag strapped to his leg. A catheter disappeared up the leg of his Bermudas. Another 143 residents of the community were single women, all but a few with spouses divorced or dead, or in nursing homes with Alzheimer's or some other miserable gift of M. Nature, and rounded out with a sprinkling of "never marrieds" of indeterminate sexuality. "OK you alter kakers we come now to our last lady, the lovely Lauren Hoffman." As had the ladies before her, Lauren self consciously stepped forward. There was applause and a wolf whistle and someone, probably Jablonski, said, "Hah! The 'ice queen'!" Lauren smiled although she felt like screaming, thinking to herself why did I do this? I must be crazy letting Miriam talk me into this. But more grim smiling. "Who will start the bidding at $25.00 to enjoy Lauren's company for dinner," Mordecai Levitz cried out. Mordecai was always the emcee at these community events. "Do I hear twenty-five dollars?" "I bid twenty-five CENTS for the ice queen," shouted Sam Jablonski, who had first called her that. "Not a penny more!" "Sam you old zhlub, behave yourself," Mordecai said. "If you gave twenty-five cents the Wailing Wall would collapse. Tokhis oyfn tish," Mordecai muttered. Sam annoyed him for taking some of the excitement out of the moment. A commanding voice spoke loudly and with rich timbre from the back of the large assembly room. "One thousand dollars." There was a collective gasp as everyone turned to see who bid. Mordecai squinted and tried to see. "Ay yay yay!" he exclaimed. "Did I hear one thousand? Dollars then you mean?" A path cleared and Lev Reznik stepped forward. "Yes, one thousand dollars. Hardly enough for the company of this sheyner froy." Lauren heard and saw but it took several moments for the full realization of what had just happened to burst in her mind. He had appeared out of nowhere and made an outrageous bid. She was stunned, angry, excited and rather unnerved. The most bid for Alice Cohen, still very pretty and nicely shaped at 71 years, had been $375.00. "I have one thousand dollars bid. One thousand," Mordecai shouted. The audience burst into applause. "Any advance on one thousand? Are you all done? Going once at one thousand! Going twice! Sold! One thousand dollars for a dinner date with the sheyn Lauren Hoffman. The winning bidder is Lev Reznik. " More applause and suddenly everybody was talking at once. Lev made his way to Lauren. She dreaded what he might say but he surprised her completely. "Mrs. Hoffman, you don't need to go to dinner with me. I was going to give the hospital fund a thousand dollars anyway. I couldn't resist bidding, particularly after that fellow made that remark about you." Lauren collected herself. "Why would you think I would want to evade keeping my part of the bargain in this silly auction? We shall go to dinner. Make arrangements and call me. We will go and make the best of it." Distasteful as it is she thought to herself. Was he insulting her again telling her that he was going to give the money to the hospital fund drive anyway? So he wouldn't have paid a thousand dollars for her company otherwise? Reznik said, "Then it will be a privilege. Do you have any preferences?" He continued to look at her with that damned hint of smile. "I really don't care; just go ahead with what you like. Goodnight," Lauren said and she walked away. Reznik watched the swing of her hips as she strode out of the assembly room. He enjoyed the view of her tokhis . Sheyn gefukremt he thought. Her scent was still in the air where he stood; perfume, yes; but something musky, more urgent and stimulating under the sweet smelling mask. Her ass and her smell made his thick shmekele stir and twitch. He was out of town, home for two days, gone again for a week, home for three days, then gone again but for just two days. The day after he returned she found a message on her answering machine. He had made arrangements. Did she still wish to go to dinner with him? Would Saturday at seven be okay? She phoned him and confirmed. Lauren determined to dress in a way that would prompt no mistaken presumption that anything further awaited at the end of the evening. She chose a navy blue button through dress with a flared skirt that reached mid calf, loose fitting short sleeves and a scooped neckline; well it did show some cleavage didn't it? And button through up the middle front was a dress that could be buttoned or unbuttoned to reveal as much or as little leg and thigh as a woman might decide as the evening progressed. In fact button through meant that the dress could be opened completely if circumstances developed wherein one wished to allow another more intimate access. With it she wore a white sleeved wrap that offered lots of flexibility in concealing or revealing arms and cleavage. Although she had set out to discourage false hopes, her libido quickened despite herself. Refusing to admit it, she allowed herself to succumb somewhat to her libido's whisper in her mind's ear, "Have some fun. Make him squirm. He deserves it." So she debated and rejected panty hose in favor of stockings, with matching garter belt and matronly but sheer, black lace panties. A matching bra completed the lingerie ensemble. She did like to feel sexy. Anyway it was well short of a "fuck me" outfit but one that, if she permitted, would facilitate and heighten pleasure to be had by both her and an enthusiastic groper if allowed to explore the bonanza of flesh beneath an unbuttoned dress. Of course she did not want him, could not imagine wanting him, to do anything of that sort. Such a hairy troll. Ugh! No, she would be civilized but it would be dinner and goodnight. Her libidinous self would have to be content with a towel so as not to soil the bed sheets should her pussy secrete copiously, as it still sometimes would, and a dildo of choice from among several favorites. She liked to pleasure her vagina with a dildo while massaging her vulva and the clitoral tissue crowned with that nubbin of miniature cock flesh. So good. She could make repeated crests of gratification race through her body from the epicenter between her soft and warm thighs. He was there promptly at 7 p.m., dressed in soft khaki slacks, dark blue blazer and a pullover Murano dress tee. He had shaved his heavy beard free of five o'clock shadow, at least as free as he could without taking off the outer layer of skin on his cheeks . His cologne smelled good. When he addressed her as "Mrs. Hoffman," she told him, "Oh, enough with the 'Mrs. Hoffman' would you mind! I'm not anybody's grandma. " He did not say where they were going and he did not tell her. She noted that they were in the city and in a part of it she had not previously and would not otherwise have entered. The restaurant turned out to be a small one in an older storefront . It was run by a family of Ethiopian Jews. She had heard of these people but never encountered them. It was obvious from the warm greeting that Reznik was well known to the family. A little girl, perhaps four or five, approached Lauren with a lovely bouquet of flowers. The gesture completely disarming her. She flushed when the child said candidly, "You must be the beautiful neighbor, Uncle Lev told my mother and father about." Momma , Abaynesh, was a tall and strikingly regal woman with aquiline Ethiopian features. She hugged Lauren warmly while welcoming her and escorting them to a table. All the other tables, perhaps 10 altogether in the small restaurant, were occupied. Papa, Kabede, also tall and sinewy looking, poured wine for them and toasted "Mazel tov!" before they sat. "Now enjoy. No menus. We will serve you what we have. Ethiopian. You don't know it madam. Now you are having an adventure. You will enjoy, I know this." She did. It seemed exotic because it was exotic. There was injera, of course, the Ethiopian flat round bread, and on it three kinds of wat or stew. They ate without utensils which Lauren found off-putting at first. But they all insisted with good humor that she forgo a fork or knife. After a bit she gave herself over to enjoying the food and the atmosphere, and the family, even Reznik, and she ate enthusiastically using pieces of inerja to scoop up the wat. More wine; their glasses always topped off. A second bottle. Israeli wine Lauren noted. The little girl, Chekolech, was shooed away from the table but returned repeatedly to smile shyly at Lauren, who was captivated. Finally desert and a strong coffee and a liquor of some sort. Lauren was glowing with drink and flushed at all the attention heaped on her by the family. She could not remember what she and Lev had talked about but she knew that without realizing as it happened, Reznik had skillfully drawn her out and she had chatted away while he listened. He is quite a clever troll she thought smiling to herself. Am I being cleverly seduced? She excused herself and in the ladies' impulsively unbuttoned the skirt of her dress to above her knees. She returned to the table carrying her wrap. Both Abaynesh and Kabede hugged her warmly when they were ready to depart and the little daughter hugged Lauren around her legs. When they left the restaurant he asked her to wait while he retrieved the Corvette and brought it to the door. But she demurred. "Nonsense," she said. "Why shouldn't I walk to the garage with you just as I did when we arrived?" "After dark this neighborhood is sometimes risky ." "If the food had not been so delicious and the family so wonderful and friendly," Lauren said, "I would have concluded you brought me here to insult me. So now you're trying to frighten me instead?" "That never entered my mind," he said looking at her or what he could see of her face in the dim light that filtered out of the shaded restaurant window. "This is one of my favorite restaurants; a jewel in the rough. I wanted to please you. I hoped it would be a new experience." It had been and, although she resisted telling him, he food was delicious. The bouquet from Reznik presented on their arrival by the little girl had thoroughly charmed her. She had enjoyed the flattering attention of the restaurateur, his wife and their children; all of them worked in the family business. It had been to this point a very enjoyable evening. They walked together, neither spoke. Ahead, still some distance away two figures appeared on the sidewalk and began walking towards them. Lev knew immediately they were trouble. How ironic he thought. Reznik touched her arm lightly. "Keep walking Lauren. Look at me. Talk. Say anything. Laugh. Hold my arm. These two approaching us are going to try to mug us. They will not succeed but you must be steadfast and do as I say. We will be okay then. Do you understand?" Lauren felt a shiver of fear go up her spine. Oh no, she thought. Why didn't I listen to him instead of insisting on walking to the car with him. "Lauren, did you hear me?" "Yes," she said. "How do you know?" "I know," he said. The distance between Lauren and Lev and the two approaching figures closed rapidly. Lauren could see that they both wore hooded sweat shirts and the hoods were up. They had their hands in their pockets. Hooded sweats in this warmth and humidity? Lev said quietly, "Fall back just a step so that you're slightly behind my right shoulder." The hooded muggers, it was clear in a flash that is what they were, drew to within a couple of steps and blocked Lauren and Lev's further advance. What took place next happened so quickly that Lauren could not follow it. First mugger whipped out a large automatic pistol and simultaneously yelled, "Give it up mothafu...OWWWW, AHHHG!" He was down and his arm was oddly crooked. He screamed when Lev stepped on the crooked part. The pistol was now somehow in Lev's hand, pointed between the eyes of the other would be mugger. But this second mugger also was fast and as his partner went down he grabbed Lauren from behind and held her tightly in his arms with a stiletto knife pricking her throat. Lauren felt the prick of the knife where he held it against the delicate skin. His rancid body odor made her gorge rise and she fought not to gag. Spittle flew on the side of her face as he shouted, "I'll stick the bitch, fucker. I'll stick her. I'll fuckin' stick her. Fuck. Fuck you. I'll fuckin' do it dude." She could feel him trembling against her and knew that he was wildly frightened, as much or more than she was herself. How quickly what should have been an easy mugging of two old fuckers had gone awry. What the fuck had this old shit done? On the ground the gun wielder continued to writhe and scream. Lev's face was composed and calm. His voice was calm as well and he spoke to the one who held Lauren. He spoke with deadly resolution in direct and explicit language. "Shut up now and listen to me. You do not need to die tonight. Do you understand me? You do not need to die. Listen carefully. Don't move in any way to hurt the woman because I will kill you instantly. I am going to count to five. If you are still holding that knife and holding the woman when I say five I am going to shoot you between the eyes. You will die instantly before you can move your knife to harm the lady. Your brains will blow out the back of your head. Your body will be dead before you collapse." "You fuck! Fuck you! I'll so fuckin' cut her!" He shrieked. The mugger was in a panic. He could not understand why his partner was on the ground with his arm, like totally fucked up and the old fucker had the gun. It was wrong, just goddamned wrong! He was so preoccupied he did not hear Reznik say "One." But he did hear "Two". His darting eyes swept across Reznik's face and snapped back to the geezer's eyes. Motherfucker, the old man, his eyes held death; the mugger had seen it before. This bastard old man was a stone killer. The panic surged up and without conscious thought his grip relaxed and the knife clattered to the ground. In the same instant he bolted down the street and in a flash was in an alley and gone. Lauren could not stop shaking and was actually too frightened to cry. She tried to absorb what had just happened in the last and longest 30 seconds of her life. She clutched herself and watched as Reznik operated the slide on the semi-automatic pistol and a round flew into the air then fell to the ground. He took the magazine out of the weapon and thumbed the rounds into his other hand. When the weapon was clear he flung the ammunition to scatter far down the street. He did something to the weapon and the slide came off and then he had the barrel in his hand. He stepped to a nearby storm drain and dropped the barrel down between the grates where it plopped into standing water. He flung the slide in one direction and the grip and frame in another. The formerly armed mugger rolled around groaning and crying and holding his arm. He rolled off the sidewalk into the gutter. Reznik leaned close to the man's ear. He said, "My name is Lev Reznik. Lev Reznik. Remember that name. If I see you again here or anywhere you are a dead man. You don't know how close you came to dying tonight. You would have died if not for this lady being present. I want you to tell her now, 'Thank you for saving my life. Mr. Reznik would have killed me if you had not been with him.' Repeat that back." "Fuck you! Motherfucker! I need a fuckin' doctor; you fucked up my arm." "You're not listening to me, asshole. Tell the lady what I told you to say. Let me help you." Reznik stepped on the broken arm. The mugger shrieked. He told Lauren as he had been instructed. Reznik took her by the arm and guided her away. They continued to the garage where Reznik used a pass card to open the locked door and gate. Lauren thought this must be a dream. I am going to wake up and none of this will have happened. "Reznik, I thought you were a thug the first time I saw you when you moved in." Her voice was shaky. Now I see you really; and truly are. We could have been killed. Why didn't you just give him the money like he wanted?" Now she began to weep. He got her into the passenger seat of the Corvette then leaned in and fastened her seatbelt across her lap. She had unbuttoned several buttons up from the hem of the skirt earlier and it hitched up as she sat. Now as she slumped in the bucket seat she was distracted and her knees opened wide. He could see her lovely thighs almost to the bare flesh at the tops of nylons. His lusty gaze at her thighs was not lost on her and a warm flush rose so that blotches of red spotted her chest. But she did not close her knees. She wondered if looking at her this way had aroused him. She sniffled and he produced tissues from somewhere. She blew her nose loudly. As he drove he said, "Some situations are only dangerous if one does not have superior personal resources to neutralize the danger. I know these kind of people and my training just kicked in. I have handled these foolish sorts many times. Most much more dangerous than these two. I very much regret that this has frightened you so. I did ask you to wait at the restaurant while I went for the car. Well, that is not so important now. There is a flask in the glove box. Why don't you take a drink; it will help you calm down." She found the flask and took a swallow. It was very good single malt Scotch. Her hand trembled and the adrenalin impact on her body still had her keenly apprehensive and alert. The whiskey warmed her throat and her stomach. She took another taste. Shit, she thought, my makeup must be a mess and fumbled through her purse to set about repairing the damage. . Lev and Lauren A curious phenomenon began to develop in Lauren as they put distance from the ugly scene behind them.. As her fear ebbed, she began to feel warm in her groin. Was it the whiskey? Was it relief and her body responding to her brain's realization that she was still alive, safe and unhurt? She felt of her neck where the foul bastard had pricked her neck with his knife. Her fingers came away with blood on them. "He cut you?" "It's just a nick." "Let me clean it and put a bandage on it when we get home." He handed her a man's white handkerchief. "It's clean. I haven't used it. Put it on the wound; keep it from spotting your dress. " "I've never been so frightened in my life," Lauren said. "I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight." She checked herself in the visor mirror and grimaced; then began to repair her makeup. "I can make you a drink that helps me," Lev said. "Yes, okay fine. I don't want to be alone when we get home; could you, I mean..." "Of course," he replied. "I will stay with you as long as you need. I know you've had a terrific fright. But you behaved bravely." "Hah," she exclaimed, "I was petrified with fear; afraid to twitch a muscle." They were silent for a bit. "Reznik," she couldn't bring herself to call him Lev, "would you have shot that disgusting creature if he had tried to cut me?" She was sure she knew the answer already but she wanted him to say it, to define himself; to confirm what she knew. She had no doubt that he would have shot the man. The thought of hearing him say it aloud was stimulating despite her residual fear. "Yes," he answered, "He was a wild predator filled with adrenalin and drugs. I had to bring his fear to the foreground in order to control him. If I could not then I would have had to kill him. I couldn't take the risk that he would stab you." HIs unabashed and straightforward answer sent such pleasure to her pussy that she clamped her knees together tightly; it was as if his words had fondled her vulva. Such a dangerous man! Never had she met such a person. "Shouldn't we have notified the police?" "No. No police," he said. "Not necessary now." She took another pull on the flask. The warm glow of the drink flowed into her nipples and down into her crotch. The trembling eased. Despite her past repugnance, Lev's response to the attempted mugging actually thrilled her and the thrill had more than a frisson of sexual current running through it. Hadn't he been so completely in control of the situation; so sudden and violent but in control, both physically and mentally? Nerves of steel, she reflected, remembering the hand with the gun did not waver as he aimed at the mugger's face. She was grateful she had been with someone who was as masterful a street fighter as she now thought of him. She had never met anyone who brought together qualities that seemed as paradoxical as those of this Reznik. He was at once cultured and genteel, but with cold capacity to be brutal and even savage. He had really brutalized the prostrate mugger to bend him to his will. His domination of the muggers made her feel simultaneously secure and needful. Reznik, let me ask you," she said, "Did you get your thousand dollar's worth from this date with me?" "The money is not important in this," he replied. "What is important in this?" "Perhaps getting past the Berlin wall you've put up since I moved in next door." "Why?" "You are a very lovely woman; a desirable woman, a basmalke. We're both unattached and I would like to get to know you. Besides, you're so convenient, just next door." He smiled. "Aha! I knew you were an ugly beast. You with this "pussy magnet" car of yours. Your violent nature. You're like all men. I'm a convenient way to satisfy your needs." Her tone made it clear her words, while harsh were not serious. "God forbid as long as I am breathing that I should lose my libido," he said. "But that was just banter, you know that." She did know that he had been lightly teasing with his remark. It seemed as though every nerve in her body was alert and vibrating. Would he take her if she gave him any hint? Would he take her anyway? "So then you think me attractive and desirable but you don't want me; you just make a joke?" "Lauren, you are having a very normal reaction following what you saw as great danger. In some persons a component of that reaction is sexual arousal. But no gentleman would take advantage of such vulnerability. I expect you'll crash soundly not long after we get you home. That is the usual pattern of these things." "What if I don't crash, or I do but I want you to be near, even to hold me for awhile?" "Then I should respect your wish and do as you ask, but not to become intimate. A good sleep and this will wear off and fade. You will find that I am still the same peasant brute that I was before. Your disdain will still supply you with numerous contemptuous thoughts about me. " "And what will I be, peasant brute?" "You will continue to be a high-toned woman; a very desirable dowager Jewish princess, alone and aloof" "Hmmm," was all Lauren allowed in reply. As this exchange continued Lauren became aware that she had grown quite moist "down there" and very likely had spotted her underwear. The memory of her erotic dreams about him coming to her naked and very erect arose. She squirmed a bit in her seat. Was this just as he said, an element of her post-incident nerves reacting to the danger encountered? Or was there something more; more submerged within her and lighting her sexual fuse? She knew the truth; she had been fighting it since she first saw him. The guard waved them through at the entrance to the community. After Lev eased the sports car into the garage they proceeded to her home. Inside he said, "Come stand here in the light and let me look at your neck wound." He took her chin in his paw and turned her head to bring the wound into the light. She took in the smell of his hand and liked it. He stood close and she could feel the warmth of his body and liked it. She closed her eyes. What was happening to her? Her well ordered life suddenly felt as though in upheaval and out of control. Oh, what was that, his warm breath on her neck? Jolt of delicious voltage shot into her nipples and pussy as his full lips touched her neck at the wound. She sighed and settled into his arms. Their firm muscles felt so good. Her skin and hair smelled delicious. "Did I mention, Princess," he said, "that I have no will power? I should not have kissed your neck like that but I could not restrain myself." She held him by his upper arms where his biceps felt hard. "You said in the car that a gentleman would not take advantage of a lady feeling the way I do now in reaction to an incident of great danger. But already you kiss me. You are not a gentleman are you? You don't need to answer. Your body is answering for you. Are you losing control of yourself you beast? Do you think I will just let you shtup me because we went to your crummy little dive together?" He looked at her and her eyes blazed with challenge. "You are a remarkably sexy woman," Lev said, "Behind that stuck--up façade. You are also a remarkable hypocrite, pushing your hot pussy against my schvantz. You loved the food. You loved the attention. You had a sexual thrill from our encounter with the muggers. You're dry humping me now. You've lived your life of comfort and privilege, pampered and cared for. You've never met a man like me. You're excited and aroused because I seem so dangerous to you. You say one thing but your body says 'shtup me.' " The bedroom harlot, long dormant in Lauren and thought to be locked away, she now found awakened and already permeating her body and taking control of her mind. The bedroom harlot did urge her to press herself close in his too long hairy and apelike arms. She ground against him and gained immediate warmth spreading pleasure from the feel of his tumescence against her mound. The harsh words he spoke squirted lighter fluid on the fire of her need. She reveled in it and teased. "You're such a fool," she said. "If I did let you stick your schvantz in me it would be a pity fuck. You are such a hairy animal I don't know how I would stand it. And you're ugly too, uglier than that actor Bronson, so don't try to put your nasty lips on mine. " Which, of course, is what he did and quite effectively too. She pretended to struggle and resist, trying to push his face away from hers. But he held her head in his strong hands. Curiously in her pseudo-desperate efforts to extract herself from his grasp she managed to rub her mound and vulva all about his front and repeatedly thrust herself against his erection. When she thought she had resisted sufficiently to maintain the pretense that so entertained them; she opened her mouth to give and receive tongue play. Back and forth their tongues chased each other, licking, fondling and darting one against the other. "I am not aloof now, am I," Lauren said breathlessly as she surfaced from the wanton kiss. She undulated her hips against his cock to make her point. "Have you touched the Berlin Wall?" She murmured in his ear. "Did it feel like my body?" "So," he said while his hands roamed firmly about her back and slipped down over the cheeks of her ass. "Now you throw my words back at me. I can't remember another woman as aroused by danger as you are. I will have to satisfy you or you'll be miserable and even more hateful than you are already." She punched his bicep. "You are not only a brute but a fool," she said. "Do you think it is just what happened tonight? I will tell you my nasty secret. Twice, you awful beast, you came to me in my dreams. You were naked and hairy and your schvantz was hard and stuck out in front of you. "I'm interested. Tell me more. What did we do?" Hands kneading ass cheeks, pulling her firmly against his still clothed penis; lifting the skirt up until he bared her bum and slipped a hand onto the bare flesh of one cheek. The excitement brought her now to the cusp of orgasm. Her substantial clitoris pulsed anxiously, sending promises of ecstasy if only some hand, or fingers or tongue or cock would come to it. "First you leaned over me," Lauren said softly, lips at his ear, " where I lay. You said, 'I've brought what you want, Princess.' Then you kissed me like we just kissed. But then your tongue became your cock and I thought it was repulsive but I licked and sucked it. I liked it. You had an orgasm and it made me have one too while you squirted into my mouth. I liked that too. I woke up and I was masturbating myself. I know I'm going to have to let you fuck me, no not just let, I want you to do it. But you're not going to make me suck and lick your cock in reality like in my dream? You wouldn't be that brutal would you?" "I think we should go to your bedroom," he said. "There I am sure that we will see both whether or not you like to suck my cock but also how much of harlot you really are. We will see which of us is more brutal, bubbala ." She felt grimy and dirty from the encounter with the would-be muggers. So they first showered together as she wished. She did a strip tease getting out of her dress and sexy underwear and finally her stockings. It made him very hard so that, as they showered his erection prodded and poked her while they hugged and humped and played with the other's body, lathered and scrubbed; giving genitalia extra attention. But they waited to fuck. Then they went to bed. When she tried it she liked it very much, sucking his cock that is. It made her feel powerful and orgasmic to watch him as she fellated him; to hear his groans, his gasps and his grunts as she brought this hard, ruthless man to the point that he helplessly undulated his cock in and out of her mouth; lost in the rapture of fucking her orally until he came with a groan. She thought taking his spurts of cum in her mouth would gag her but she was so inflamed with lust when he unloaded she let it fill her mouth and swallowed it but for the dribble on her chin which made her giggle. She was very, very much a harlot and proved a match for him. He serviced her vigorously making her orgasm repeatedly with his mouth (right away, the first time he put his mouth there) as she had never experienced and with his cock, that was just as she had fantasized, not so long but a thick cudgel, the naked glans broad and burgundy colored. When they were sweaty and suffused with post-coital bliss she said, "But remember," to the proximate ear as he sucked and fondled her nipples, "When I've fucked your schvantz down to a nubbin; when you've had your pleasure on me, you will still be a disgusting peasant brute. Ohhh OHHHH! Just like that my brute. Do that some more." That, "some more" had to do with what his hand was doing between her legs spread wide to allow complete freedom as he massaged and manipulated her vulva. Her vagina made wet slick and squishy sounds as he ran several fingers in and out of her oozing sheath. It dribbled semen and coital fluid down her crotch. "Of course I will," he said "and you will still be a proper high-toned Jewish Princess, a world class hypocrite, and very much a whore." "Oh, shut up," she said. "I think you're hard enough now." She gave his cock a squeeze and pull. "Put it in me again." Which he happily did as she presented her broad, matron's ass and soon the slap, slap, slapping of his groin against that soft bolster of warm flesh made them both laugh. Then he settled in and was lost in determined concentration as he chased his orgasm and she came repeatedly by masturbating her clit while squeezing his member tightly with her hot wet sheath. When she felt him gathering toward a climactic paroxysm she cried out, "Squirt in me you dirty fucking bastard. Come on, do it! You bought yourself a whore. Give it to me. Ahhh, yes, yes you thug, YES cum in me! (He was groaning and jamming himself tight against her ass as he spent in her.) Oh that's so good. Ugh, Ahh I'm cumming too! Epilogue They were lovers for most of the next 12 months. They fucked like teenagers (well not quite) and played and dated and ate and drank and slept together. Then one day a moving van was next door and Lev was not. The very large young man who drove the dark SUV appeared and showed her a typed note but would not let her take it. There was no signature. "I have to go away," it read. "I have no choice. I will always treasure the memory of our time together. I hope you will too. If there was a way, any way at all, I would spend the rest of my days with you. I leave my heart behind." She called in dismay to the large young man as he walked away. "Don't you know where he has gone; can't you tell me?" "Where has who gone?" "Who? Lev Reznik is who!" "I know no one by that name," he called back. He climbed into the SUV and drove away. End Some Yiddish terms used in the story... Alter kaker: Old shit (Old fart) Ay-yay-yay: A Joyous, or at times sarcastic, exclamation Bubbala: A term of endearment; darling Mamzer:: Bastard Mazel Tov: Good luck, usually said as a statement of support or congratulations Nafka: A whore. Sheyner: Pretty, wholesomely attractive, as in sheyner maidel (woman.) Shtup: Have sex Shvarts: miserable Tokhis: Derriere Tokhis oyfn tish: Put up or shut up