6 comments/ 20015 views/ 2 favorites The Old Brass Bed By: radk Thanks to jo for editing. ******** In dreams and in love there are no impossibilities.- Janos Arnay Frankie's walk to the subway each morning was a routine that she usually did half aware. She rarely looked up at other commuters and rarely noticed the neighborhood that she walked through. The six block walk from her third floor apartment to the subway station was a blur. Only when she was safely at her desk did she come out of her stupor and focus on the world around her. She felt safe at her desk. She felt safe in her apartment. It was everything in between that was a problem. You see, Frankie was a border-line agoraphobic. Actually she had several border-line phobias. Fear of open spaces, more specifically fear of leaving safe spaces, was just one of them. And these insecurities controlled her life. They dictated where she lived and worked, they made her hyper-aware of everything she touched or ate, and they even prevented her from having close friends. On a rare occasion she could steel herself and work past one that prevented her from doing something that she especially wanted, but normally she went through life like the silver ball in a pinball machine, bouncing from bumper to bumper before falling into the slot at the bottom. When she got to work she was invisible. Only when nature called did she venture from her cubicle and go out among her coworkers. She was comfortable at her desk doing her job. Everybody in the office knew that she was a little 'quirky' and left her to do whatever she did. Women didn't come over and talk to her about the horrible date they went on over the weekend or what sale was coming up at Macy's or any of the usual girl-girl chatter in every office. The men in the office gravitated toward the more attractive and fashionably dressed women and Frankie was definitely no slave to fashion so their attention went elsewhere. Her usual fare was non-descript clothes that accented her non-descript hair style that went with her lack of make up, and a pair of old ugly glasses. Nobody's head would turn to look at her when she walked by. So, in effect, Frankie went through life invisible. But she preferred it that way. On one of her out-of-focus walks from the subway to her apartment something yanked her back to reality long enough to notice the world around her. She was standing in a crowd waiting to cross the street when a glint of light caught her eye. It was the reflection of the sun off of something in the window of the building next to her and she turned her head toward it. The light was blinding and she instinctively put her hand up to protect her eyes. That's when she noticed the building for the first time since she moved there four years ago. The sign over the window said O'Reilly's Antique Shoppe. The cluttered front window contained a collection of old radios, hats, toys, books and a mannequin wearing a 1920's Flapper dress. It was something behind the junk in the window that reflected the sunlight, something that from the curb looked like a large pile of gold that caused her to hold her hand in front of her eyes. It wasn't like Frankie to do something out of her routine but she broke from the usual and walked over to the shop window and peered in. When her eyes focused on the large pile of gold she saw it was the headboard of an old brass bed. It was tall and ornate and the brass was dull with age. The only clean spot was on one upright post and it was responsible for the sun in her eyes. She just stood at the window looking at the old bed thinking back to the one in her grandmother's attic. When grandma died everything she owned was scattered among the family. Frankie really wanted her grandma's brass bed but one of her aunts snatched it away before Frankie could find the courage to say anything. Since that day she's always wanted an old brass bed of her own. "It must be very expensive," she thought as she stared through the window. Convincing herself that she couldn't afford it she turned and continued her half-aware walk to her apartment. Every day for the next ten days Frankie broke her work-to-home routine and stopped at the antique shop and looked at the old brass bed through the window. Every day she convinced herself that she couldn't afford it. Every day she walked on. On the eleventh day she got up the nerve to open the door and walk in. "Hello miss, can I help you?" The disembodied voice scared Frankie. She looked around but couldn't find its source. She reached for the door to leave when voice spoke again, "I'm up here. Look up." Frankie turned and looked up toward the ceiling and saw a little old man sitting on a little old chair leaning over the rail of the balcony over the counter. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to frighten you," replied the old man. "I just didn't want you to go away. Wait a minute and I'll be right down." Frankie cautiously walked around the shop and stopped in front of the bed. She ran her hand over the smooth metal and found it coated with dust, now coating her fingers too. "You don't see workmanship like that any more," the old man said as he hobbled through the maze on a pair of canes. "It was made in the 1920's by a manufacturer here in New York that went out of business during the depression. It's a very unique style and you couldn't find another like it outside of a museum. We got it about two years ago from the estate of Geneva Fitzgerald. Ever hear of her?" "No," Frankie answered. "Oh Geneva was one of New York's wealthiest women, a high society lady who had more money than she knew what to do with. She had huge, lavish parties and traveled all over the world collecting art and furthering women's causes. She gave money to the arts, built hospitals, and owned several large businesses. Heck, even one of the Staten Island Ferries has her name on it. Geneva died about ten years ago at the age of ninety-nine. She'd had an interesting life to say the least. She was born into one of the wealthiest Connecticut families and married into the Tyler manufacturing fortune. Now Carlton Tyler was an old man when they married and he died after a few years and left his vast fortune to her. Her second husband was a bootlegger who died just after they repealed prohibition. I can't remember his name but I understand he met an untimely demise at the end of a shotgun. She married into the Fitzgerald family just before World War II. Together Samuel Fitzgerald and Geneva turned a large fortune into an immense one with scrap metal during the war. She was the quintessential high society lady. There were even rumors of her having a number of lovers over the years." "Thank you, but I want to know how much is the bed?" Frankie sheepishly asked. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to bore you with ancient history. Sometimes it gets a bit quiet in here and I like to hear myself talk and meeting a charming woman such as yourself only makes me talk more." Frankie blushed and looked down at the floor. She wasn't used to hearing compliments. 'Well let's see, I think I can give you a good price. It's all here, the footboard is over there and the rails and slats are beside that bookshelf there. With a little work it would look as good as the day Geneva had it made." "How much?" she asked again. "Well, I can't take a penny less than three thousand." "Wow! That's a lot. I can't afford that much. It is a beautiful bed but that's way too much for me. Thank you for your time." As Frankie turned to leave the old man piped up and said, "Now wait a minute here. You didn't even try to dicker with me. You're supposed to bargain with antique people, I don't mean old people like me I mean people that sell antiques. We live for that. Now, since you're new at this, I'll help you out a bit by starting it off. I'll come down on the price a little just to give the bed a good home; just so you can have it. What do you say to twenty-five hundred dollars?" "That's still a lot. I don't think I have that much in my savings account." "Well, just to be honest with you it does have a history. I've sold this old bed twice before and each time it's been returned. They wouldn't tell me why but they looked kinda strange when I asked how they slept, almost scared. And since it seems to come back each time I sell it I'll give it to you for two thousand, as long as you promise not to return it." Frankie looked at the old man and at the bed and then dug deep into her purse. She pulled out a little notebook and thumbed through the pages. When she found the page she wanted she looked up to the ceiling and did some mental calculations. "I'm sorry but all I can afford is fourteen hundred and sixty-two dollars." Almost before she finished the sentence the little old man yelled, "Sold!" "You drive a hard bargain little lady but you got yourself one really nice bed. Come on over to the counter and we can do the paperwork." Frankie looked at the old man and smiled. Smiling was something that she didn't do too often. She probably had a touch of geliophobia too; the fear of laughter. On Saturday two neighborhood boys delivered the bed and Frankie spent the rest of the day polishing the metal to a mirror-bright shine. It took several hours of rubbing and buffing before she was satisfied. When all the hard work was done she just sat on the floor exhausted staring at it, with a somewhat larger smile on her face now. "Just like grandma's," she said out loud to herself. Frankie had a habit of talking out loud to herself when no one was around (a bit of glossophobia?) After her usual dinner, alone, she got into her pajamas and ready for bed early. She was anxious to get under the covers and try out her new purchase. It was barely dark when she pulled the quilt up over her shoulders and nestled her head into the oversized pillow. She looked up at the silhouette the headboard created on the wall above her and thought about the woman the little old antique dealer told her about, Geneva Fitzgerald. "I wonder how many lovers Geneva shared her bed with; this bed, my bed. How many men kissed her and made love to her here? What ecstasy did she experience in the arms of her lovers? How many men were there, I wonder? My God, what if there were women here too? I wonder how often she cheated on her husband with their gardener, rubbing her hands all over his sweaty torso and kissing up and down his body ending with a kiss or two between his legs. I wonder how many times she had the chauffeur drive her to their country house and stop along the way for a little fun in the back seat, wrapping her legs around his hips, bucking and moaning until she screamed with ecstasy. I wonder if... I wonder how... I..." ******** Geneva and her father walked to the center of the stage arm in arm with their heads held high. The crowd was hushed with all eyes on the pair. She wore a stunning white chiffon gown straight off the boat from Paris. A diamond tiara twinkled in her short red hair. She was the epitome of grace, charm and beauty. Her father wore his best white tuxedo and looked every inch the rich society industrialist that everybody admired. He paused to let the crowd admire the beautiful woman next to him then in an authoritative booming voice said, "Ladies and gentlemen may I present Miss Geneva Rosalie Michaels." The crowd applauded as the stately gentleman leaned over and kissed the young debutante on the cheek and turned on his heel to walk away. Geneva stood in a regal pose as the applause died down. Slowly she leaned forward, bent down and turned her head to the side to execute a precise, formal St. James Bow. The applause started again as she rose. Two tuxedo clad young men approached from the sides and stood stiffly beside her with one arm out. Geneva looked at one and then the other before putting her white satin gloved hands on their outstretched arms. Totally in sync they walked forward and down the stairs and over to the table in front of the room. Like the Red Sea in front of Moses the crowd parted to let them pass as they marched past the admiring eyes. With a tilt of her head to each of her escorts she dismissed them and sat down beside her father. As the crowd moved to their seats the elegant young beauty leaned over to her father and whispered in his ear, "Can we eat now? I'm starved." It was the most lavish and expensive debutante ball of the season. After two hours of eating and exchanging polite conversation Geneva was able to sneak away to the veranda for a cigarette. The smoke swirled around her head as she exhaled. "God, I needed that," she mumbled talking to one of the Greek statues. "You never looked more ravishing my dear," the statue replied. Geneva took a step back and stared at the white figure. Slowly from behind the statue a man emerged with a huge smile on his face. "Why you lout," Geneva squealed as she flicked the cigarette away and melted into his arms pressing her lips to his. The kiss was long and hard. "Where have you been these last couple weeks?" she purred in his ear. "I missed you so much. I wanted to kiss you and to feel your body against mine. I ached for your touch. But you're here now and we can be together tonight after this little soiree is over. Can you wait that long?" "I don't know if I can, but I'll have to. You have responsibilities inside and my news can wait." "News? What news? Don't tease me, Ashford, tell me." "No, I think it would be better when we're alone after the party." "I can't wait that long. Ashford McManus, tell me now or I'll scream!" "Well, if you insist," he said as he pushed her away and leaned against the statue. "Geneva, darling, I don't quite know how to tell you this so I'll just say it. I've agreed to marry Lucy Bartlett. With the Bartlett family money we can increase the size of McManus Shipping. We can start a transport line to Europe. Our family business will double or triple in size. But that doesn't mean you and I can't still be together. Just because I'm married to that milquetoast Lucy doesn't mean I don't love you. We can meet in my Boston apartment or the house in New York. Darling we could go abroad from time to time. With her money you and I can do anything we want. She will never know." Geneva was as still as the statues around the patio. She stared into his eyes before raising one hand and with a forceful swing brought the palm of her hand across his face with a mighty slap. "Why you son-of-a-bitch! You're going to marry that bitch Lucy and expect me to be your whore on the side. How can you do that to me? I thought you loved me? Oh wait a minute, I get it now, you were just wooing me to get to my inheritance; my father's money. The Michael's family money would do the same as Lucy's family money. I was just someone you shared a bed with so you could expand your business. I was just a business venture. You son-of-a-bitch." She swung again but this time he ducked. "No Geneva it's not like that. I do care for you. It's just that right now we need capital to expand the shipping lines and you said you wouldn't marry me now. Lucy said she would. I still love you. I will always love you." Another mighty swing was successfully ducked and then another and another. "Get out of my sight you bastard! I never want to see you again. GET OUT OF HERE!" Geneva stormed back inside to the party and over to the bar. "Give me a martini," she ordered the bartender. "I'm sorry Miss Geneva. Your father said that we weren't to serve you any alcohol tonight. I can give you something else if you want." "Ahhhhh!" she screamed and stormed across the room and into the kitchen knocking a waiter on his backside along the way. She was sobbing gently when she felt a hand gently stroke her hair. "What's so bad that it would spoil your party?" the voice from behind her said. She turned and looked to see one of the young men who had escorted her to her table earlier. It was young Mister Parker, one of her distant cousins. His eyes and his crooked little smile showed that he had a little devil in him. It was just what Geneva needed. "Let's take a walk," she said. They snuck out the kitchen door and quietly tiptoed into the garage. Geneva opened the back door to the Duesenberg and climbed in. Mister Parker shut the door after entering. Their clothes flew off. Her dress landed in the front seat with his coat and tie on top. Her shoes flew out the window and his pants followed. Everything else piled up on the floor as they entangled their arms and legs in a heap of thrusting, pulsating flesh. He kissed her lips. She bit his ear. He kneaded her breasts. She grabbed his backside and pulled his hips between her legs. He entered her with a single thrust. She dug her fingers into his flesh. He pumped up and down. She moaned. He screamed out loud. She cried into his shoulder. As quickly as it started it was over. "GET OUT!" Geneva screamed at the naked man lying on top of her trying to catch his breath. "GET OUT!" He grabbed his clothes and slammed the car door behind him as he ran bare-assed out the garage door. Geneva just curled up into a ball and cried. ******** Frankie awoke in the fetal position. She felt tears running down her cheeks and her heart ached like nothing she'd ever felt before. The anguish and sorrow that she just dreamt about was still alive inside her. She just had the most vivid dream of her life and it was going to take some time for the feelings to fade. "My God, what was that all about?" she spoke to the ceiling. She turned and looked at the shiny brass headboard her eyes wide with dread. "That was so real. But it was just a dream. Wasn't it?" Frankie got up and went into the bathroom for her morning ritual. When she came out she just stood in the room and stared at the bed. An image of the man that Geneva loved and lost was still in her head. The anguish disappeared and a feeling of dread swept over her. She touched the bed and wondered aloud, "What's going on here?" All day long and everywhere she looked she saw Ashford's face. She tried taking her mind off of him by reading one of her romance novels but nothing helped; his handsome face remained. As she prepared for bed she thought about the dream from the night before. The image of Ashford was still there. The violent sex between Geneva and her cousin in the back of the old car was still fresh. The loss Geneva felt when her lover spurned her ached in her heart most of all. "I hope tonight isn't as adventurous as last night," she said to the bed. "I need to get up and go to work tomorrow." ******** "Geneva darling, why don't we go for a walk down by the lake? It's pretty out there this time of night." The sturdy straw-haired man had a rather hard mouth and a supercilious manner punctuated by a gruff, husky tenor. Two dark eyes dominated his face and gave an appearance of aggression. His smile was insincere. He gave the appearance of always leaning forward. The black tuxedo he wore cried out money but his manner showed the real man, a man of rough texture and crude nature. He dominated over the frail beauty standing beside him as he whispered into her ear again. "Come on, baby. Let's go for a walk, just you and me." She laughed as if the man had said something witty. "No Stanley, not tonight, not tomorrow night, not ever. If ever I take a walk around the lake with someone it won't be you." His dismissal was complete but he wasn't smart enough to know when he had been insulted. All he had to do was skulk away and hide in the corner but instead he just took a sip of the drink he was holding and stood looking down at her. When he didn't move she rolled her eyes, shook her head and strode toward the couch. Stanley moved to stand beside a woman leaning on the grand piano. "Stanley's such a cad," said the woman sitting on the couch lolling her head back as she spoke. "Did he ask you to take a walk with him out to the lake?" The Old Brass Bed "Uh huh, but he's the last man on earth I'd go walking with. Not handsome enough. Not rich enough. About as smooth as a gravel road." The two women laughed as if some great comedy had just played out in front of them. And maybe it had. Geneva had always considered herself above the crass Connecticut aristocracy she was born into. After all she had spent the last four years in Zurich at one of the finest all-girls finishing schools and had rubbed elbows with true royalty so she knew what the upper class was all about. She even had an actual princess from Tavolara as a roommate. But the men and women that lived in Belle Haven were only pretenders like Stanley. Mostly they inherited their money from parents who amassed fortunes working in mills and manufacturing plants of the industrial north. Even Geneva's father had made his fortune building railroads throughout the states. They were a spoiled lot. And most of them were there to annoy Geneva. But two things set Geneva apart from everybody else, her razor-sharp wit and the ability to use her looks to get what she wanted. Men would do anything she asked and women just wanted to throw her in front of a train. Some would describe her as frail but she was anything but delicate. Small doesn't always mean frail. She was a few inches above five feet tall but she could punch and kick and pull the hair of an adversary with the best of them. She rarely fought but when she did she always won. The long wavy red hair that cascaded over her shoulders gave her the appearance of a Greek goddess. The sharp angular features of her face gave her a haughty look but they could turn soft and alluring in a heartbeat, if she wanted to woo somebody. She was beautiful outside but devious and cunning inside. Nonchalantly looking around surveying her domain, Geneva commanded the room. She pointed at a clutch of men in the corner. "Now there's someone I could take for a ride in the Dusey. Who is he?" Rolling her head to the side and looking across the room, the seated woman replied, "That's Bryson Pitt, Howard Pitt's son. He's just back from overseas. Just got some decoration from the president for something he did in France during the war. He's due to take over his father's company in a couple weeks. Quite a good looking man and I've had my share of good looking men so I should know." "I think I'll introduce myself," purred Geneva as she marched in a straight line from the couch to the group of people the handsome man was standing with. "Hello and welcome to our home. I'm Geneva Michaels. Have you met your host yet? He's just over there at the bar." "Hello yourself. I'm Bryson, Bryson Pitt. It's a pleasure to meet you Geneva. And no I haven't met our host. Would you care to introduce us?" With a sly smile Geneva hooked her arm with his and led him across the room to the bar. Geneva peeked up at the beautiful man she escorted and smiled her sweetest little-girl smile. He didn't know it but he was on display for all to see, and he was hers to show off. His pomade slicked black hair sparkled with reflected light and his haunting brown eyes absorbed every detail of every person they passed. He would smile and nod the acquaintance of the partygoers. Geneva especially liked the simple coat and tie he wore. It was different from the tuxedos that the pretend-wealthy men wore. It set him apart from the rabble. It set them apart. "Daddy, this Bryson Pitt, Howard Pitt's son. You remember Howard don't you?" It's been many years since anybody called Daddy handsome. But he was still an imposing figure and having rooms full of money can make even the meekest man good looking. Although he looked old and besotted he was a most formidable opponent, in and out of the boardroom, most of the time. Squinting one eye he sized up the man entwined in Geneva's arm. He must have approved because a great smile lit up his face. "Of course I remember Howard. And I remember this little squirt trying to ride one his daddy's polo ponies and falling into the horse trough. Geneva honey, I'm not as feeble minded as you think. It's a pleasure to see you again my boy. How are you enjoying our little summerhouse?" "It's quite magnificent, from what I've seen. If you don't mind I'd like to take a stroll around and look at the rest of the house and maybe the gardens." "Of course, make yourself at home. Maybe my cantankerous daughter would show you around." "I'd like that sir. Thank you." "Want something to drink to carry with you?" "No thank you. Just having a beautiful woman on my arm is intoxicating enough." "Ha ha, yeah yeah, mumble mumble..." The senior Mister Michaels turned back to the bar and threw back another shot. Geneva led Bryson out to the veranda, the moonlight guiding the path as they walked. "He actually had no idea who you were, don't you know?" She said turning and leaning against the limestone railing. "He's lost a lot of his faculties since mother died." "I didn't want to say anything. I never fell off a polo pony or any kind of horse ever in my life. He must have me mixed up with another of your many beaus." "Mister Pitt, contrary to what you may have heard I don't have a stable full of boyfriends. As a matter of fact at the moment I don't have any. Most of the men I meet only want one thing, well maybe two if you count daddy's money. I'm pretty careful about who I'm seen with. I don't want people to think that I'm some sort of floozy. I have a reputation to maintain and I wouldn't sully our family name with a lot of tawdry folderol. Men are always asking me to take a walk around the lake with them. I know what that means. They want to get me alone so they can take advantage of me. I'm not that kind of girl." "I'm sorry if I implied anything Miss Michaels. I've been away for a long time with school in Europe and the war in France and all so I've kind of lost touch with the social graces here at home. I wouldn't do anything to take advantage of you. I'll wager that most men only see you as a beautiful young woman to conquer and overlook the keen mind inside. I like a woman with a head on her shoulders. It's intriguing and down right sexy. I'm sure that whatever man you choose would be delighted to have you beside him." "Why Mister Pitt, how backward of you. This is 1923 not 1823. Women these days know what they want and don't have to rely on men to get it for them. If I want to go with a man and let him take advantage of my virtue then I will do just that. I'm no different than you. I have wants and desires. I can look at something beautiful and appreciate it for what it is. And I can plan and scheme as well as anybody. No Mister Pitt I'm no old fashion Victorian prude. If I see something I want I go out and get it." "And do you see anything you want?" He asked looking deeply into her emerald green eyes. "Yes I do. He's standing right in front of me looking into my eyes with a silly little grin on his perfectly kissable mouth. Mister Pitt, how would you like to escort me around the lake?" "It would be my pleasure Miss Michaels." He held out his arm and she linked hers in. They slowly strolled along the path between the large hedges and around the edge of the lake. The moon's reflection off the water gave the warm summer evening an eerie feeling as it created jumping shadows all around. The path twisted and turned through the lawn as it led toward a white gazebo at the edge of the water. Geneva walked to the water's-edge side of the little wooden building and leaned back against the rail. The moonlit water shimmering behind her produced a twinkling aura all about her flowing red hair. It looked as though she were standing among the stars. "You look absolutely stunning in the moonlight," Bryson uttered as he put his hands on the rail on either side and leaned forward to kiss her ear. "You might just be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen and at the same time you might be the most frightening. I'm afraid that I won't be able to control myself. I could very easily lose control and make love to you right here." "Ummm, that sounds wonderful. I want you to lose control. I didn't walk in the moonlight around the lake with you to discuss politics. I want you to touch me and kiss me and make mad passionate love to me. I need to feel you inside me." Her head turned slightly so her lips met his. The two lovers kissed long and hard without ever moving. Their bodies remained still but their mouths joined and their tongues intertwined. "Ummm," a moan boiled up from Geneva's throat and she reached out with her hands and encircled his waist. She pulled his body to hers and they melted into one. The kissing continued uninterrupted as hands rubbed up and down arms and backs. Another moan escaped from her throat as he squeezed her backside gently and pulled her pelvis into his. She could feel his hardness. She wanted it inside her. She was boiling. His coat fell to the floor behind him and her gold shoulder coat fell off into the water. She pulled back to take a breath and looked deeply in his eyes. "Mister Pitt, I'm not going to make love to you here on this gazebo." His eyes widened and a little pouting frown appeared. "I intend to make love to you in the grass under that chestnut tree," she said pointing behind him. His frown disappeared as he stepped back and took her by the hand. Her shoes disappeared as they walked in the grass and so did his tie. When they stopped Bryson turned her around to face him and leaned forward for another kiss. "Wait, silly, I don't want to ruin this dress. It just came in from France yesterday. I don't want grass stains all over it, not yet at least." She reached around back and unbuttoned the calf length gown and let it fall to the ground around her feet. Bryson's eyes widened as he looked down at the beauty standing in front of him wearing thigh high stockings, a short white chemise, and a smile. "Now you can kiss me," she purred. Again their mouths merged into one and their tongues fought each other for supremacy. Skillfully she unbuttoned and peeled his stylish Arrow shirt off without ever breaking their deep kiss. When she reached for his belt the kiss broke and he stepped back. "Ladies first," he whispered, smiling from ear to ear. "Of course," she said smiling as she slipped the thin shoulder straps off of each shoulder and let the silky garment drop around her feet. Her breasts were small but had pert dark nipples that he could see even in the dim moonlight. They looked up at him as he looked down at them. Leaning forward he took one nipple in his mouth and sucked it inside to meet his swirling tongue. "Oh, my God!" She moaned as he suckled her. Her head fell back and her arms went limp underneath his powerful arms. One of her hands found the strength to reach out and press his hard cock in her palm. Now he was the one to let out a little moan around her tit. When they separated her pastel colored panties were around her feet. As though she had done it a million times she unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and bent down pulling them down on top of his shoes. As she stood up she blew a little air at the tented underwear bulge in front. They embraced and kissed with hands roving all over each other's naked body, squeezing her breasts and his bottom. Bryson pulled Geneva down on top of his glistening body as he lay back in the grass and squeezed her into him. They rolled over and over each other on the moist lawn. During the spinning his shoes, socks and underpants disappeared. At one turn they stopped with him on top and he held her gaze intently. "Make love to me now," she pleaded as she wrapped her legs around his hips. Both bodies were wet with sweat. Both bodies were hot with passion. Both bodies were poised and ready. Slowly he leaned forward and placed his lips softly on hers. Only at the last did their eyes close. Their tongues intertwined again. She could feel the pressure between her legs as his cock reached the entrance. Her juices aided in his entry. He slid deep inside the folds of her hot pussy in a slow, single thrust. A moan mingled with their tongues, coming this time from both lovers. For an eternity they lay with their arms and legs intertwined and his cock impaled between her legs. Nobody moved. Each felt the heartbeat of the other. Their kiss continued. Almost without feeling it he withdrew from her and then slid back to the depths. As if to tease her, he paused. She pulled her legs tighter on his hips and he very slowly pulled out and slid back in again. Slowly out and slowly back in again. Over and over he plunged her depths until she couldn't take the agony any more. She broke their kiss and panted, "harder, deeper, please oh please, faster." Her eyes pleaded with him. His stroke sped up but only a little. His smile told the story that he was taunting her but she didn't want to be taunted, she wanted to be pounded into the ground by his cock. Digging her fingernails into his back she again gasped, "Harder damn it!" and drove her tongue deeply into his mouth. The pain in his back spurred him on and soon his hips stabbed downward as her legs wantonly pulled him back inside. The two bodies, twisted together in a sweaty tangled heap, bounced up and down under the tree in the pale moonlight. A guttural, animal like growling emanated from the knot sounding like one was trying to consume the other. Between the savage thrusts the half crazy woman underneath gasped, "Mister... Pitt... I don't... have to... ask you... to be... a gentleman... and pull out... before you flood... my insides... with your seed.... I don't want.. . to get... pregnant." The words she just spoke may have fallen on deaf ears because his response was to thrust harder and faster. Shortly his plunging cock started her shaking and she dug her nails deeper into his skin and yanked his hips with her legs faster. "Dear God! I'm almost... I'm going to... Oh my God... OH!... OH!... OH!" There was silence from the bottom of the pile as she just held on and convulsed, mouth agape. His pounding continued unabated when suddenly he pushed up from the ground and pulled out of her red hot pussy. He knelt between her legs and squirted his hot cum all over her stomach as he spoke in another language, "Ug... Oh... Umh... Ahhh!" after which time he fell in a heap on top of the ecstasy wracked beauty below. The two bodies breathed as though it were to be their last. They lay spent in each other's arms, neither had enough energy to say anything nor to turn to kiss the other. Every last ounce of strength was gone. What started with a simple walk around the lake ended with a mighty explosion of ecstasy. The two lovers moved to hold each other lying in the grass in the moonlight. She saw Ashford's face in her mind as a tear fell onto her cheek. ******** The first thought that entered Frankie's mind was that the room was awfully warm. A beam of sunlight peeked through one corner of the window shade lighting up the flowery print of the quilt lying in a heap beside the bed. Frankie herself was lying on her back with her pajama top unbuttoned and lying at her sides. Her pajama bottoms were a tangled mess around one ankle. "Damn it's hot in here." With only one eye partly open she looked down at her naked body. "Wow, what a mess. How did I get like this?" She rubbed one hand between her breasts and felt the pool of sweat between the mounds. Continuing downward she felt the heat of her belly and more sweat pooling in her navel. Still further down she felt the heat emanating from between her legs and moved to investigate with her fingers. "Oh my," she moaned as her fingers slid over the hair and down in between the moist swollen folds below. The index finger touched her clit causing her to jump back as though burned with a hot poker. "OW!" She pulled her hand back and looked at it in amazement. A slimy, creamy white fluid dripped from her fingers and sweat glistened on her palm. Sitting up she looked between her thighs and saw that the hair was matted and sticky looking and the lips on both sides were red and swollen. There was even a wet spot on the bed between her legs. "Noooo, I didn't do that while I slept, did I?" Frankie had never been with a man before but that didn't mean she didn't understand the mechanics of sex. She read about it a lot. As a matter of fact she was quite a fan of reading about it. Her collection of graphic romance novels was quite extensive and she knew how to masturbate. So she knew what it felt like to have an orgasm. But what she didn't know was how it felt to have a man's cock deep insider her or how it felt to wrap her arms and legs around a hot sweaty man and hold on for dear life or how it felt when a load of hot cum leaked out of her womb and onto the bed. But as she looked back and forth between her hand and her pussy she had a good idea now what some of those feelings were all about. Then she turned and looked at the shiny brass headboard. "It must be you. Are you haunted or something? Did I buy a bed possessed with the lusty memories of that society woman? I've never, ever had a dream as erotic as that! WOW! And it was so incredibly real. It was almost as though I was back in 1923 at the lake with... well, him. I can still smell his sweet hair. I'll bet I've even got grass stains on my back." She fell back on the bed and laughed out loud. When her laughter subsided she moved her fingers to her nose and smelled the sex that wasn't part of any dream, the sticky goo was real. Everything seemed exactly like the dream. Her pussy was tender, there was liquid dripping from the slit, there was sweat all over her body and the sheets, when she woke her breathing was labored, even the way her clothes were thrown about all matched the dream. Frankie threw her legs over the side of the bed and sat up. The heap of pajama bottoms fell to the floor as she shimmied out of the top and threw it next to the bottoms. For once she started the day with a smile. On her walk to work Frankie looked around at the people and the buildings. For the first time she actually saw the faces of the people she passed. As she waited in line to go into the subway she saw a face that she recognized. It was the man in the dream; the one that Geneva loved -- Ashford. She stopped and stared at him as people walked around her frozen body and said nothing. His head slowly turned and he looked straight into Frankie's eyes. He smiled at her then turned and went into the subway car. Nothing exciting happened in Frankie's day, as usual, except that everywhere she looked she saw Ashford's face. Needless to say, she got very little work done. During the evening commute back home she looked everywhere for the man on the subway but didn't see him. That night Frankie watched an old movie on TV, a love story of course. Halfway through her mind started to wander and she started thinking about the dream from the night before and the man from the subway. She saw the man in the subway standing on the veranda of the dream. Again he smiled at her. She saw their hot bodies intertwined next to the lake. She dreamed that the woman was her and not Geneva. Without thinking she slid her hand into her pajama bottoms and found that her hairy mound was hot and moist. Using one finger she probed inside the lips and found the little button of pleasure. The finger circled around and around until her legs started to quiver. Now using her two middle fingers she sped up the stroking and circular motions. Her other hand pinched her nipples through the fabric of her top. When the world faded out and her ecstasy began she threw her head back and let out a deep, loud moan. She twitched and convulsed and cried until her hand fell limp in her pants. Frankie faded out and slept until morning. The Old Brass Bed She didn't dream about Geneva. She didn't dream about Ashford or the man in the subway. She didn't dream at all. The next day Frankie was standing on the subway platform when the man appeared next to her. Again he looked into her eyes and smiled. As the train approached the crowd of anxious commuters stepped forward en masse and the man leaned toward the edge. Instinctively Frankie reached out and grabbed his arm and steadied him enough to not fall on the tracks. He turned to look at her and she saw an expression of relief. As he opened his mouth to say something the throng of people pushed forward and swept him into the car. She stood on the platform between cars as the doors closed. The train took off leaving Frankie standing on the platform watching him pass out of sight. That evening Frankie waited outside the subway station for the man but he never came out. She walked home dejected. But she thought about him as she fell asleep, again with her hands rubbing between her legs. ******** As she watched the face of the man on top of her grimacing in agony she thought of Ashford. The man Geneva had her arms and legs wrapped around was not Ashford; she didn't know his name. He was the third in line that night to leave his seed inside her womb. But she didn't care. She didn't care that she just had sex with three men in ways a polite society woman didn't do. She didn't care that they might have made her pregnant, and if they did she would take care of it like she did before. She didn't care about anything any more. The love of her life had deserted her and married someone else and she didn't care about living. She just wanted the pain to go away, and by being with men who wanted her, who lusted after her, she exorcised Ashford's betrayal from her mind for a little while. She didn't want emotions anymore; she didn't want to feel love. She became dead when men were on top grunting and thrusting inside her. Sex was her cocaine and she was addicted. ******** Frankie awoke from her dream and sat bolt upright in bed. Fluid dripped down between her legs into a pool on the bed and the sheets were soaked with sweat. Again her breasts ached and her pussy was raw. She was tender to the touch everywhere. She jumped off the bed and flew into the shower where she stayed until the water washed away the tenderness. On the way to work all she could think about was the faces of the men she, no Geneva, had sex with last night. She knew it was all a dream but she still felt their fingers on her breasts and their cocks inside her and smelled the odor of their bodies. She couldn't concentrate on anything and even took a wrong turn walking to her cubicle. She was getting less and less work done because of the dreams. On her way home a young boy handed her a handbill that advertised a new optometrist in her neighborhood. There was a one-time offer for glasses at very good prices. So she stopped and looked at the glasses in the window. She saw in the window that hers were old and ugly. She did have the money so she steeled up her courage and went in. Two hours later she came out with new glasses. When she looked in the window again at her reflection she thought the glasses were pretty but nothing else was. But it had taken all her courage to get the glasses and she didn't have enough courage or money for anything else, so more would have to wait. All the way home she looked for the man in the subway but he didn't appear. ******** "Come on Geneva, dance for us. Give us a little show." The man lying on the floor, half under the coffee table, with a bottle of booze in his hands, pleaded without ever moving. The group sitting on chairs and couches around the apartment looked bored and indifferent to everything around them. A couple were even asleep in each other's arms in the corner. An excess of gin will do that to you. "Geneva, please entertain us. Everyone's bored." He pleaded again. "No! I don't feel like it," she said from under a pile of bodies on the largest couch in the room. "Please, please, pretty please. I'll take you to Long Island next weekend and we can go to that new amusement park, the one with the lions and elephants." "You're going to have to do better than that. I saw the lions last month." "How about if I take you up in my airplane. You can see what your house looks like from the air. Please, just one little dance, darling." "An airplane? You have an airplane? Can I fly it? I'll dance for you if you let me fly it." "You want to fly it? I think I can do that. Deal?" "Deal! Now what kind of dance would you like? French, Arabic, African, Jazz?" "How about something from the Gayety Theater in New York? You know what I'm talking about." "Why you rascal. I know exactly what you want. Make some room and wake everybody up. Nobody sleeps through Geneva's dance." Everybody started moving around and pushing furniture to the walls leaving a large space in the middle of the room. One woman changed the record on the Victrola and another opened another bottle of gin and passed it around. The music started and Geneva stood up in the middle of the room with her arms above her head and slowly swayed. Her body moved and shimmied in beat to the music. Her arms swept all around and her hands caressed her body. She turned slowly giving the seated audience a good look of all sides. Her hands snaked down to her legs where she grasped the hem of her dress and slowly pulled upward, rocking her hips from side to side as she did. For the viewers it seemed like an eternity for her to pull the garment slowly up her body and over her head. With a peek-a-boo look she took the dress and threw it at a man sitting closest to her. She walked and paraded around the room in a short silk camisole running her fingers over each man and woman she passed. Occasionally she would lift up the short slip and show her silk underpants. With one hand she reached up and slipped the thin strap off her shoulder and stood facing one way looking over the bare shoulder at everybody. With the other hand she lowered the other strap and turned to that side blowing kisses. With both hands on her chest she slowly and seductively lowered the camisole over her breasts, down her waist and over her hips. She let it fall in a heap on her feet. Her pert breasts were now exposed for all to see and admire. She danced and pranced around the room and bent over and kissed the head of one man. Standing in front of him she lifted up her leg and placed her foot on his thigh. Using both hands she started to roll one silk stocking down from her thigh, over her knee and past her calf. She pointed at her foot and the man reached up and pulled off her shoe and slid the stocking over her foot. Geneva sashayed over to another man and put her other foot up on his thigh. The man reached up and rolled her stocking down, took off her shoe and pulled the stocking over her foot. She twirled and spun and gyrated all around the room stopping in front of the women to shake her breasts at them and the men to bend over and kiss them on the forehead. She danced over to a coffee table and with one foot kicked the glasses off onto the floor. She hopped up on top and started gyrating her hips around in circles. Her hands flowed and moved all over her body rubbing and caressing her skin underneath. As they moved to the sides of her hips she stuck one finger under the fabric of her panties and slowly bent over and slid them down her legs to her feet. She stepped out with one foot and with the other kicked the garment across the room to land on the sleeping couple in the corner. Everybody laughed as the couple moved but kept on sleeping. She hopped off the table. Geneva was now completely naked and dancing around the room from person to person kissing each on the mouth as she passed. As the music ended she stopped and pointed to the man that begged her to dance for them, the one that offered to let her fly his airplane. She crooked one finger and beckoned him to follow as she walked naked through the crowd and into the bedroom. The half-drunk fellow jumped up and started removing his shirt as he walked into the bedroom and closed the door. ******** As she stumbled into the shower Frankie could feel the excitement Geneva felt as she did the striptease for her audience. She felt in control. She felt lusted after. She felt beautiful. But as she looked at her reflection in the mirror she saw a frumpy young woman with no style whatsoever. Nobody would lust after her. Nobody would think she was beautiful. She went to work feeling ugly. As her train pulled out of the station she saw the man who smiled at her enter the platform and look around. He didn't see her. He disappeared as the train went into the tunnel. Across from her work was a small shopping mall. Inside was a hair salon. It wasn't a fancy place but in the window were pictures of beautiful models with the latest hairstyles. At lunch time Frankie stood by herself looking at the models. They all looked so beautiful. She wondered how she would look with one of those fancy styles. As she was about to walk away one of the stylists on the other side of the glass tapped on the window and held up a picture of another model with a simple short cut, longer in the front and shorter on the sides and back. She smiled and pointed from the picture to Frankie and used one finger to say 'come on in.' Frankie hesitated for a moment but looked at the picture again and somehow found the courage to go in. When it was over Frankie went back to work looking so different that people hardly recognized her. People looked at her and she saw them look. Somewhere deep inside she was starting to think that maybe she could be attractive, but the thought died quickly when she got back to her paperwork. At bedtime Frankie worried about the dreams. They were getting wilder and wilder. She, or Geneva, had sex with a different man every night. A couple nights ago she had sex with three different men at the same time. Frankie was worried that it was getting out of hand. She was worried that she may not get up for work on time. She was worried what she would dream about tonight. But she went to bed half anticipating the fantasy. ******** Geneva woke up to the morning sun streaking through the doors leading to the balcony, the curtains on either side gently stirring in the breeze. She sat up in the bed and stretched like a cat. Looking around she saw her clothes strewn about the room; her dress lay draped over the settee, a stocking knotted around the lampshade, her shoes by the door, and her panties sat in a heap on the night table. She didn't remember too much about the night except there was a party and she drank a lot. After that everything was a blur. When she leaned back and put her hands in back to prop herself up she felt a body -- a warm body. Turning she saw Emily lying on her stomach, her naked body covered by a sheet from her hips to her feet. Emily's usually beautiful chestnut brown hair fell over the pillow in a tangled and matted mess. Her arms hugged the pillow tightly. She was asleep with her mouth open making little snorting sounds as she breathed. She was beautiful. At least Geneva thought so. Geneva leaned down and tenderly kissed the shoulder of the sleeping beauty. She looked up at Emily's eyes but saw no reaction - she continued to snore. Geneva extended her tongue and licked from Emily's shoulder down to her waist and back up to her neck. Even that didn't rouse her. Finally, a little frustrated, Geneva bit Emily's shoulder. "OW!" That got a reaction. "Good morning sleepy head," Geneva purred as she kissed the spot she just nipped. "Oh my God, what did we drink last night?" Emily snorted raising her head. "Please tell me we didn't do cocaine again." "No, my saucy wench, it was just that barrel of gin Cooper brought from Canada on his boat. I don't think it was completely fermented or something. It had quite a kick." "I'll say. I feel Sherman marching through Georgia in my head." She plopped back onto the pillow and moaned. Geneva smiled and kissed Emily's shoulder again. "I think I remember everybody in the pool last night but I don't remember bathing suits. What do you remember?" Emily groaned, turned slightly, and looked up through bloodshot eyes. "I distinctly remember a lot of naked people splashing around in the pool. I think you were floating on something and being pushed from person to person pouring gin into everybody's mouth. It was quite an orgy." "But how did we get here?" "I think it was after we won the kissing contest. We bet Brian and Grant that we could kiss longer than them under water. We won, but I think Brian almost drowned trying. After that you and I slipped away to the pool house and had our own little party. I distinctly remember you getting mad at the guys for peeking in and watching us. You yelled something to the effect that you wanted to 'eat in private.' After that happened five or six times we came up here." "OK but if we were naked in the pool, how do you explain our clothes all around the room." "Ha ha, that was funny. You insisted that I dress up in the new gown you got from Paris last week so you could have the pleasure of undressing me. It was quite a spectacle. There you were naked as the day you were born and I was standing there in a formal ball gown. You kissed every inch of me as you peeled my clothes off and threw them about the room. We danced naked around the room. We kissed and ran our hands over each other and explored every warm moist place. We rolled on the floor laughing and teasing, that's when you tripped over the settee and bruised your knee. You stood naked on the railing of the balcony and proclaimed to the heavens that you loved me. Sometime after I pulled you down from the railing we tumbled into bed and spent rest of the night making sweet love to one another. It was glorious, what I remember of it." "Yeah, I don't remember too much of it either," she said with an evil glint in her eye. "I think we're just going to have to do it all again, this time sober." Geneva leaned down and pressed her lips to Emily's. The kiss was tender and loving. But after a moment of tenderness the kiss turned demanding, their tongues dancing in each others mouth, deeply and passionately. Emily turned over onto her back and Geneva moved to position her breasts on Emily's, nipple grinding into nipple. The two women kissed each other powerfully and intimately as their bodies merged into one. Geneva's hands explored Emily's body. Shortly she found the downy mound between her legs and moved a finger between the lips. Emily moaned through their kiss but didn't stop working her tongue over and around her lover's. Two fingers found their way into the moist folds and started massaging the tender nub at the top. Geneva rubbed and kissed and teased Emily's nipples with her own making the supine beauty underneath groan with delight. Emily's back arched as the probing fingers brought her closer and closer to an exquisite explosion. Emily turned her head to the side and broke their kiss. She gasped, "Don't stop. Please don't stop. I'm so close. I'm so... I'm going to... Now... I'm... I'm..." Her body tensed and she let out a scream of heavenly delight. Geneva continued massaging between her now tense, stiff legs. As she slowly came down from heaven she looked up into Geneva's eyes and proclaimed, "I love you Geneva darling. I love you. I love you. I love you." Their lips met again and their tongues intertwined. It was only minutes later, but it seemed like an eternity, that the two ended their kiss. Geneva moved off of Emily and lay down beside her, tugging her hand as she reclined. Emily got the message and moved on top of Geneva and started kissing her chin and neck. The tender kisses made Geneva's skin tingle. A vibration flowed all through her body ending up in her toes. Emily kissed lower and found an erect nipple and took it into her mouth. The other breast she massaged, rolling the nipple between her thumb and forefinger. She used her tongue on the Geneva's tender tip like she had just done in her mouth, twirling and probing. A moan escaped Geneva's quivering lips. When the first breast was completely sated Emily moved to the other and started on that nipple, all the time kneading the first between her fingers. Geneva's head thrust backwards and her toes curled. She was in heaven. Emily lifted her mouth off of the now tender nipple and moved lower to kiss Geneva's belly. Her tongue darted in and out of Geneva's belly button teasing the half crazed woman. She continued licking lower and lower following the tiny trail of hair from her navel to the mound below. Her face rested inches away from Geneva's inviting pussy as she blew a stream of cold air into the hot folds. Geneva's whole body shuddered as she begged, "Eat me." Geneva didn't see the smile on Emily's face as she lowered her lips to Geneva's hot moist pussy and kissed the beauty again in the same manner as on her mouth, using her tongue to explore and probe. Her tongue flicked over and around Geneva's clit creating a series of delightful head to toe shudders. Emily shifted her body slightly and brought her hand up between Geneva's legs. She used her fingers to caress and taunt the entrance to her pussy. Slowly she inserted two fingers inside Geneva all the while tonguing the hot little nub above. Her speed quickened and her intensity increased as she tongued and probed Geneva's hot, swollen pussy. "Lick me! Eat me! Don't stop!" Geneva mumbled as her body tensed. "I'm yours. Do what you want. I'm going to..." And with a mighty body wracking seizure Geneva jammed Emily's face deeper between her legs and let loose a mighty shriek of ecstasy. The two women remained stuck together panting for air for a long time. Eventually Geneva's world returned to normal and she lifted Emily's face out from between her thighs and they smiled at each other. Emily scooted up to lay on Geneva and kissed her lips tenderly. It was Geneva that broke the kiss this time as she said, "I love you too Emily." As they relaxed, lying in each other's arms, Geneva thought of Ashford. She turned and kissed Emily on the forehead as the two lovers drifted back to sleep. ******** Frankie rolled over and fell out of bed landing on the bed covers piled up on the floor below. Sitting up she looked around startled. It took a few seconds to get her wits about her. When she did she moved to lean against the side of the bed. She ran her hand through her hair: it was a tangled mess. She felt between her legs and found everything to be tender, swollen and wet. She found her pajamas strewn about the room. "And I thought things couldn't get any more weird," she said as she rose and headed to the shower. Frankie's commute to work was routine. She looked but didn't see the man that smiled at her. At lunch time she went to the little mall across the street again, this time to look for something new to wear. She bought a nice dress even though she was sure that she would never wear it in public. It looked a little like the gown Geneva made Emily wear in her dream last night; at least it was the same color. She also bought something comfortable and a bit more stylish to wear to work. She stopped for coffee at Starbucks before returning. The man in front of her took a lot of time with his order and she was ready to just leave when he turned around. It was the man from the subway. He looked at her and smiled. "Hello," he said smiling at Frankie. "I never got the chance to thank you for saving my life the other day. I've been looking for you everywhere. Would you like to join me for a few minutes?" Frankie's cheeks turned a dark crimson. She looked down at her feet. She was frozen and couldn't think or speak. All she could do was stand there like a statue.