Driving Lessons

Chapter 9

 

An image is burned into my memory. Marianne is on her back, her legs drawn up, knees by her ears, breasts squashed almost flat under them. Marianne was one of the few women I've seen whose breasts didn't flatten and pool when they're on their back. Hers retained a mounded shape. They were flattened now by her legs. Her eyes were shut and there was a smile on her lips. The smile came after she downed a half glass of liquor, from the bottle she brought to the room, breaking one of the cases in the trunk.

I was fucking her slowly and methodically, in her tight ass, her body shuddering continually in what I took to be an unending orgasm. She'd, and there's not good word for this, stuffed the coke bottle bottom first into her cunt. About an inch of neck protruded and I'd hit this now and again, a surprising yielding feeling.

She was open beneath me, the happiest I'd ever seen her, at least I'd like to think that. What was gone was that superior wordy edge she always seemed to use as a shield.

I came and pulled out. A thin line of blood streaked my cock. She lay there shuddering, stopped after a bit, and fell asleep.

I left the bed expecting her to wake in a minute or two but she slept for hours, not moving at all, the coke bottle neck slowly receding from view, her anus closing.

I bathed, dressed, trying to make as little noise as possible, and sat by the bed watching her for a while. When it was plain she wasn't going to wake soon I got my books from the car and brought them up to the room. I worked on homework or read until five which is when she said she needed to go back.

I kissed her awake, tried to remove the bottle but couldn't.

"What time is it?"

"A little after five."

"I need to get back." She was in her efficient mode now. She extracted the bottle from her cunt, leaving it on the bed, poured several inches of liquor into a glass and drank it like water. She smiled at me, got up off the bed, steadied herself and began to dress.

"Last night I woke up several times and they were still fucking me. I felt so much safer than at Joe's. There I'd leave the door open, but I never felt safe. Someone terrible might come in. Still," she turned to me, pulling up her panties, "nothing bad ever happened. But last night was special. This afternoon with you was special. I can trust you utterly. I can't say that about many men. You felt incredible. Thank you."

She put on her bra, changed her mind, removed both panties and bra. Grinning at me she said, "Don't need those where I'm going, do I?" She put on her blouse and skirt, fastened the zipper and button, put on shoes without socks. "What time do you have to be out of here?"

"Eleven."

"So soon? Oh well. Come by after you check out, I should be ready." She poured more in a glass, downed that. "I'll leave the bottle for you."

I made her stop and eat a sandwich before going back. We got there close to seven, parking several blocks away. Like she'd said, there were no parking spaces on Greek row.

"Come in with me." She took my hand and drew me up the short steps. There were Greek letters over the door but I couldn't tell you what they signified. I'll call the fraternity the Xetas. She gave a special knock and it was Gary who opened the door.

"You're back." He sounded surprised.

"Of course. I said I would be. Is Paul around? I have the hooch." Her posture showed a barely repressed excitement.

"I'll get him." He gazed at me and didn't look like he remembered our earlier meeting. "Come in."

Marianne led me into a large room filled with guys, most in suits, and a few girls. They were sitting and listening to the record player, some jazz. About half were in chairs or sofas and the rest were on the floor. We could hear somebody talking loudly in another room nearby.

Marianne went in immediately, leaving me by the hall door. A tall guy came in and went to her, putting his hands on her hips as they talked. Marianne came over to me as the guy shouted, "Our angel of mercy has arrived. The party is saved." Some people looked up but didn't appear that interested.

Marianne said to me, "You'll need to help the Xetas with the booze." She had a huge smile on her face.

When I returned with those selected to help, each carrying a case, things were more party-like in the House. I ended up sitting with a group in a smaller room. Marianne had been drinking from a glass and mixing socially. There were maybe twelve guys and two girls besides Marianne. Music, louder now, came from the other room. One of the girls seemed to be taking turns sitting in guys' laps and laughed a lot. Everybody talked loudly. One of the guys said there was beer in the kitchen and I left to find it.

The House was filling up with drinking, laughing, shouting people and I was never able to find the kitchen or beer. I made it back to the room and Marianne was sitting on somebody's lap, her blouse open, falling off one shoulder, her skirt up around her hips. She leaned back against him and he must have said something funny because she started laughing, swinging one arm in the air. She turned to listen to what someone was saying next to her and fell forward, catching herself.

One of the girls looked like she was asleep, in a couch's corner; the people sitting next to her ignored her. A guy making the rounds with a bottle filled Marianne's glass. She finished the glass, set it on her leg where it and her hand wobbled.

The next I looked the glass was gone, as were Marianne's blouse and skirt. She was sitting on a different lap, her arm around his neck, looking like she might fall off, listening to what two other guys were telling her. One of the guys as he talked to her used his fingers to flick her nipple now and again.

I had to take a piss and left. Not finding a bathroom I went out into the back yard and marked a bush. Other guys elsewhere in the dark sounded like they had the same idea. Going back in I got turned around and was lost for a few minutes before I found the room again.

Marianne was in a different lap and the guy held her back against him, his hand kneading her breast. She was saying something and he laughed, dropped his other hand to her leg.

A girl came in, stood in the doorway for a moment, then sat on the floor next to me. The other two had gone somewhere else; she was the only girl in the room other than Marianne.

People were coming in and out continuously and often my view was blocked. Naked, Marianne moved from lap to lap like the girl earlier. Each one felt her breasts and fingered her. Her expression was constantly changing as she switched partners. It would change from one of joy to one of appeal. To a dazed look as if she were having trouble figuring things out. Her joy was wide open, like a child's and if she appeared happy in the motel room earlier, this was happier still. She talked with her neighbors or the one holding her, her motions exaggerated, often almost falling sideways or forward. I wasn't the first to notice that her hips were moving in response to the fingering.

I got distracted and now she was on her feet, in a clutch as if dancing, someone's fingers working in her as she was passed from partner to partner, her buttocks thrusting.

Two things happened at the same instant. I realized they were playing with her, taunting her deliberately. They knew she didn't want foreplay. They knew this finger play was driving her crazy. At that instant the girl next to me put her hand on mine and squeezed. Her lips were moving as she watched Marianne. Perhaps she only now realized Marianne was having orgasms, there in front of everyone, all measure of modesty dropped. Marianne was their common toy.

She ended up in Paul's arms, he laughing when she tried to pull his shirt up, to get into his pants, as the man holding her from behind worked his fingers in her, making comments to any who wanted to hear.

Paul yelled, "Everyone shut up." In a softer voice, "You were saying?"

Marianne mumbled something, for some reason looked at me with a look as if she couldn't stand such exposure.

"Louder, I can't hear you."

Marianne said something but all I heard was please. The girl's fingers never left my hand.

"I still can't hear you. Shut up everyone. The slut has something to tell us." He smiled at her. "Go on."

"I want to go upstairs."

"What's so special about upstairs?"

"Like last night." Again that look at me. "Please."

"You remember the song you learned? If you can sing it perfectly, you can go upstairs. Jimmy, let up a minute."

The guy behind her stepped away; they all backed away so only Paul and she were in the center of the room. Paul then backed away and left her by herself.

She sang it once, halting few times, but in a voice so low I don't think anyone could hear all the words.

Paul said, "You'll have to do better than that. Louder. So everybody can hear the slut. We're waiting."

She licked her lips, hands down at her sides. Her effort to concentrate was obvious as she sang louder.

The song she sang was terribly ephemeral. I can remember only the feeling that went through me, not the words (except the last two lines) or the tune.

I like to fuck.
I like to suck.
I don't care how many.
I don't care how often.
I'm Xeta's whore.

I like to fuck.
I like to suck.
Stick it in my sloppy cunt.
Up my ass or down my throat.
I'm Xeta's whore.

The girl next to me was mouthing the words as Marianne sang.

I like to fuck.
I like to suck.
I like it hard and fast.
I like it more than anything.
I'm Xeta's whore.

I like to fuck.
I like to suck.
Use me as you will.
I'll always come back for more.
I'm Xeta's whore.

I'm Xeta's whore to use and throw away.
I'm trash. I'm dirt.
Because I like to fuck.
Use me up the ass.
I'm a whore for you and your friends.
Toss me away when you're done.
And I'll come back begging for more.
Because I'm Xeta's whore.

Paul said, "Jimmy, did she get it right?"

"Almost. She left out the stanza about horses and dogs."

Marianne's eyes found mine and darted away.

"You'll have to do better."

Marianne pleaded. "Please you guys. I came back and I'm begging for more. I'm your whore."

"Maybe we can let her go upstairs if she tells each of us in this room, sincerely, what she is. Is that okay?"

Marianne who was always so capable was beginning to lose it. She was crying and hiccuping and starting to sway as people around her talked.

Jimmy said, "Sure, Paul. How about if we make it easy for the poor girl. She can just tell me. Is that okay, everyone?"

Paul told Marianne, "Go on. Tell him. Tell him what you are and what you want."

Marianne turned to Jimmy and steadied herself. "I want to fuck—"

"Stupid slut. Show me. Down here." Jimmy had his fly open, cock hanging out.

Marianne smiled, again glancing at me, that special smile with her tongue barely showing. She knew her ordeal was almost over.

She knelt and crawled to Jimmy, her hands to her sides. "I'm Xeta's whore who's come back to fuck and suck. I want it up the ass and down my throat. Do what you want. Toss me away and I'll come back to fuck and suck." She leaned forward and touched her tongue to the cock, twisted her head to get it into her mouth where it slowly hardened.

The girl next to me was licking her lips and for some crazy reason I leaned over, turned her head toward me and kissed her hard. She instantly became limp and started to fall so I held her with both hands.

"Don't swallow it when he's done with you."

We kissed, there was a cheer.

"Show us you're a Xeta slut."

The girl pushed away from me, went back to staring at Marianne. I caught just a glance of Marianne as she stood, mouth open, come spilling out, as Jimmy held her, fingers deep in her. "The bitch is trying to eat my hand," he said.

"Can she go upstairs, everyone?"

There was a loud yes and I couldn't see any more as everyone stood and people left the room, including the girl and Marianne. I sat alone for a while, already deciding I wasn't going up. I'd seen enough. I had a long drive tomorrow and felt half drunk though I'd not touched a drop.

At the car the girl from the library and another were waiting for me, sitting in the front seat. I sat in the back. "You guys are going to have to leave."

"We're going with you. My name is Sybil and this is Brenda. I don't know why in the world my parents named me Sybil. You like Roman art?"

"It was something to look at."

"I like that book, too. Where's your girlfriend?"

"She's at a party. I'm going back to the motel. Get out of here."

"Is she a Barkley girl?"

I nodded.

"I thought so. She was in the same academy class as my sis. I thought she looked familiar. Which one is she?"

"Marianne."

"She's pretty. So why aren't you at the party?"

"Get out of here."

"She not the one—Marianne's the wild one, isn't she? Again? Tonight? She must be a glutton, or something, for punishment. The guys here give me the creeps."

"I'm not impressed either. So are you going to leave?"

"Nope. We're going to the motel with you. What do you think of beatniks?"

"Haven't thought much." I got out of the car, opened the driver's door. "Slide over." Sat down behind the wheel. "You don't know me from Adam."

"We can't go yet. Amy felt a call of nature. She'll be back in a minute."

"I'm not up to this, you know."

"We're freshmen, easily tamable. You'll see."

"How about before we go to the motel you guys treat me to a pie or cake or something. I'm just about out of money."

"Sure. Sounds fair to me. Then it'll be like a trade, not an imposition."

I looked over at Sybil. She was smiling at me and if she could have wiggled her ears I bet she would have been doing that too.

"I don't have much left to trade."

"Marianne's boyfriend? I bet you're special."

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