Widowsmate
a Novelette by Kellis
Copyright � 2000,� by Kellis
J. J. Verit (1934,
November).� The Uncelebrated Victims.� New Century, Vol. 13, Issue 11, pp
16-17.
Almost all families on the middle and lower financial rungs have suffered privation since the crash, but by far the worst effects have been visited upon those consisting only of women or headed only by women.� The charities have simply been overwhelmed, and the financial aid that first Mr. Hoover and then Mr. Roosevelt promised would �trickle down� to them has proven less even than a trickle.� We have seen no reliable documentation of actual starvation among women and children, but rumors abound.� That too many suffer real hardship cannot be denied.
One fact is incontrovertible:� the concentration of desperate women upon city street corners, and at places of general congregation such as hotels and train stations, is many times greater than it was five years ago.� These women, though usually thin, are typically young and attractive.� To every passing man they turn hopeful eyes in a pinched face.� His perception determines when and if they may next take nourishment.� The competition among them is fierce.� It manifests itself both in the lowest prices ever recorded for the services offered, and in actual injury sustained in battles for the advantage of a particular post on a corner.� A recently reported case of fatal eye-gouging is illustrative.� Many other cases of equal mortality but less drama go unreported.
But terrible as conditions may be for the free-lance working girl, most of them were already reasonably accustomed to the rigors of that life.� The plight of widows, who often represent the best of womanhood, exacts the greater toll of sympathy.� Too many husbands and fathers, overwhelmed by lost investments and lost jobs, have departed in one way or the other, leaving behind wives and children in homes mortgaged for margin in the last heady days before Black Friday.� Now that the banks have reopened and had time to consolidate, the chickens of that profligacy are coming home to roost.� Foreclosures are at an all-time high and would be higher still if it were possible to sell so many properties.� Jobless widows, insurance if any long spent, are among the most affected.� They seem to have no choice but to consign their children to overcrowded orphanages and themselves to battle on the street corners �
�Justin, are you married?�
His motion ceased.� He raised his cheek away from hers and looked into intent dark eyes too close for focus.� He chuckled.� �What�s the trouble, Betty?� My performance not up to par this morning?�
Her eyes were steady.� �I just realized I don�t know.�
�Just realized?�
Her voice conveyed a smile.� �With your cock half way to my belly-button, don�t you think it�s a fair question?�
�You say the nicest things!�
�Do I?�� She chuckled.� �Then even a banker likes some exaggeration!�
He grinned.� �Bankers like inflation!�
She raised her cool thighs.� �Come up a little and it might get to be three-quarters.�
He restrained himself to the slow, deep thrusts that he knew she liked.� Her sphincters were soon clipping him, which he liked.� When they finished, he rolled to the side and gathered her head to his shoulder.� As his breathing calmed, he remarked, �From those little exclamations there at the end I take it that it did.�
�Did what?�
�Got three-quarters of the way.�
�I don�t know about that, but, Justin, you�re always good for me.�
�Thank you.�
She raised her head for a kiss and snuggled closer to him.� Her voice against his neck was muffled though still intelligible in the silent house.� �But you didn�t answer my question.�
He pretended to misunderstand.� �I came up, just as you said.�
She lay still.� After a bit she observed, �If you don�t answer, I guess that�s an answer, too.�
�Would it matter?�
She sighed.� �What you mean is, it better not.�
He looked at his wristwatch.� �The auditor is due at eleven.� You know I love to lie here with you, but this time I better get back to the office.�
She sighed.� �Do you really need to go?�
�Oh, yes, you can�t miss ��
His voice trailed off as she rose far enough from his shoulder to rake her lumpy nipples down his chest and belly.� She took him in hand, retracted the foreskin and popped the softening knob into her mouth.
He gasped and endured her tongue for a moment before saying, �Betty, you know you don�t like that!�
Her face turned up to him.� Her eyes glittered in the light leaking through the window shade behind the bed.� She retorted, �But you do!� and immediately resumed her effort.
�You want a second one, Betty?� Is that it?�
Her head was nodding, though not in answer.� Her lips smacked on recovered firmness.� He raised his torso, caught her under the chin and lifted her face away from him.� Supporting himself with a hand on the mattress behind him, he leaned forward, raising her farther, and kissed her with his tongue.
When their lips parted, she asked incredulously, �You don�t want it?�
�You know how it is the second time, Betty.� I admit it feels good � and later on I�ll want it terribly.� But I really do have to go.� Maybe I can come again this afternoon.�
�When?�
�Hmm.� Fourish?�
She shook her head.� �My kid will be out of school.�
�Oh, yeah, that�s right.� Well � tonight?� No, not tonight.� I�m sorry, honey.� It�ll have to be next Thursday, as usual.�
When he was dressed and necktie knotted, she followed him naked into the foyer, padding barefoot on the hardwood floor.� He cupped a breast, lightly pinching the nipple.� �God, I love your tits!�
�Do you, Justin?�
�I�m always amazed at how heavy they are.� Have you got that roof repair bill handy?�
�Oh.� Wait just a moment.�
She returned quickly from the bedroom, breasts bouncing, a slip of paper folded in her hand.� She passed it to him with a smirk.� �How do you like the way he misspelled my name?�
He read aloud, ��Betty Ardent.�� Descriptive, at least!� Is this a common mistake?�
�No, usually they just drop the R, as if I worked for the FBI.�
He winced.� �Don�t say that!�� He tucked the paper into a side pocket and leaned to kiss her, again fondling her breast.
She said before their lips could meet, �You asked if I wanted a second time.�
�Well, did you?�
�What I wanted was for you not to leave.�
�Now, Betty!�� He smiled at her but his eyes were wary.� �What�re you supposed to say?�
�Thank you, Justin,� she murmured.
�My pleasure, Mrs. Argent,� he intoned in their ironic ritual.
As usual she stepped to the side so that the door would hide her as he departed.� She whispered to it when it had closed behind him, �Anyone else would think you were married to me!�
� *� *� *� *
�Could I speak to Mrs. Thomas?�
The woman at the door, surprisingly young, cocked her blond head and peered at him through the screen.� �Are you Mr. Ross?�� It was the contralto voice he had heard on the telephone.
�Justin Ross, yes, ma�am, from Mellon Bank and Trust.�� He doffed his hat.
She pushed open the screen door.� �Won�t you please come in, Mr. Ross.�
He entered past her directly into a living room furnished with padded chairs on a thin carpet.� Two large Currier and Ives prints hung on the interior walls.
�May I take your hat, sir?�
As she closed the door behind him, he turned about and gave her the hat, which she transferred to a coat tree beside the door.� Her lipstick was lightly applied, makeup smooth, suggesting that she had prepared herself for this meeting.
He said, �I am very happy to meet you, Mrs. Thomas.�
�Thank you.� Would you sit there, please?� It was my husband�s chair.� It has the best stuffing.�
Apparently the husband must have been a well-padded fellow himself, if this was his idea of comfort.
The woman sat on the abutting couch.� �Mr. Ross, I wish I could say I�m happy to meet you.�� She took a breath.� �I know you said on the phone it�s not hopeless, but I think it is.�
�If it were hopeless, Mrs. Thomas, I wouldn�t be here.�
She shook her head.� Her eyes glimmered wetly in the light from the window across the room.� �I told you on the phone.� I�ve tried everything I know to do.� I can�t get a job.� Ha!� Nobody can get a job!� I don�t know how I can get money for food next month, not to speak of the mortgage.�
He nodded sympathetically.� �Yes, it looks bad on the surface, but there is a bright side.� A depression makes it possible to eat for a lot less.� A loaf of bread that cost a quarter before the crash is a nickel.� And now that the banks have reopened ��
�I was rather hoping they wouldn�t,� she interjected with a tiny smile.
�Mrs. Thomas, that was a near thing!� If they�d stayed closed any longer, the distribution systems would�ve broken down and we�d all have been worrying about next month�s food supply!�
She sighed.� �Everybody says so.� It must be true.�
�As it is, the new federal deposit insurance � bright idea, that! � has restored depositors� confidence, and the wheels are picking up speed again.� Jobs will open up, you can mark my words.� All anyone needs is enough to tide her over, a little help with this or that.�
She sighed again.� �I�ve run out of help.�
He studied her a moment.� She lowered her eyes.
�Perhaps not,� he suggested.� �Let�s review your situation.�� He unfolded a paper from his breast pocket.� �Your husband took out a mortgage on this house four years ago for $1700 at nine per-cent to be repaid at $21.53 monthly for ten years.� Presumably that was to finance stock speculation?�
She shrugged.� �He didn�t ask me.�
�No, I suppose not.� He suffered a fatal heart-attack two years ago, leaving you $2,000 in life insurance.� I take it those funds are exhausted.�
�Yes.�
�Actually, you�re to be congratulated for stretching them two years.� You continued to make mortgage payments for the first year, but ��
�Let�s face it, Mr. Ross.� If my bank hadn�t closed, I�d have been forced out of here six months ago.�
He smiled.� �I prefer to think the only difference would be that this conversation would have happened a few months earlier�� To continue, the mortgage shows a balance of $1236 and some cents, and is one year in arrears.� The bank proposes to waive all penalties and additional interest if that balance is paid immediately.� Do you have the means, Mrs. Thomas?�
�To pay over $1200?� No, Mr. Ross.�� Red spots appeared on her cheeks.
He said hastily, �I have no wish to insult you, Mrs. Thomas.� But I had to ask.�
�If this is all the hope you had in mind, then you might as well ��
�No, no.� No, ma�am!� Not at all.� The bank has an alternate proposal.� It will refinance your mortgage, taking advantage of the presently much lower interest rates, and reduce your monthly payment to $13.26.�
�Well, that�s better, but �� $13.26!� Didn�t you hear me?� I have no money, Mr. Ross, and no known prospect for getting any.�
He studied her.� �Do you think you�ve considered all likely sources?�
�Oh, yes!�� She laughed harshly.� �Even the � worst.� I read about the street walkers gouging the eyes of newcomers, calling them �corner jumpers.�� Not even that is available now!�
He glanced away but not quickly enough to hide his flash of interest.� �Do you have any children, Mrs. Thomas?�
�No.� Dave and I couldn�t have any.�
�How about your parents?�
�Dead.�
�Brothers or sisters?�
�One sister in California, I think.� They had to leave the dust bowl.� I haven�t heard in over a year.�
�I hope she�s all right.�
�Who knows?�
�You don�t have her address?�
�No.� My last letter came back.�
He shook his head.� �In these times everyone has to consider his own circumstances first.� Do you like this house?� Is it a good one?�
�It needs a few repairs, but, yes, the roof�s tight, and the neighbors leave me alone.� The next owner will get a bargain.� When you force me out, I don�t know what will become of me.� A soup kitchen, maybe.�
�You�re too good-looking a woman for a soup kitchen.�
�Am I?� With every street corner already claimed?�
�I have another solution.�� He leaned back in the chair.� �Did I tell you my title at the bank, Mrs. Thomas?�
�Investment Director, wasn�t it?�
�Yes.� What it means is that I have control of a block of the bank�s investments, especially in real-estate and particularly in residential mortgages.� I keep the books, you might say.
�Think about this:� What if you accept the refinancing proposal, sign the papers � all very legitimately � promising to repay the loan at, ah, $13.26 per month � but in fact you pay nothing until you have enough income to permit it?�
Her eyes widened.� �What � what are you saying?�
�You could continue to own this house and live here, just as you do now.� But you�d only need to concentrate on the bare necessities, at least at first.�
She took a deep breath.� �Oh, that sounds wonderful!�� Then she shook her head and grinned sourly.� �But I wasn�t born yesterday.� Banks don�t work that way.�
�Banks don�t, but sometimes an Investment Director will.�
�That sounds illegal, Mr. Ross?�
�So is lingering on a street corner.�
�Rather less so, wouldn�t you say?�
He smiled slightly. ��I�ll give you that.�
Her gaze passed up and down his lanky frame.� Her eyes twinkled.� �You could go to the street corner many times for $13.26.�
He shook his head.� �No telling what you�ll pick up on street corners.�
She got to her feet, walked out into the center of the room and turned to face him.� She straightened the shoulders under the neatly pressed house dress.� �Tell me if I misunderstand.� You propose to mark my payments paid even though they aren�t?�
�In effect, yes, until you become able.�
�Why would you do that, Mr. Ross?�
�Perhaps I want to fight the depression.� Perhaps I enjoy helping a desperate widow.�
Her eyes narrowed.� �But what�s in it for you?�
�Isn�t that obvious?�
�I want to hear it.�
He stood up also and looked into her eyes.� �What�s in it for me?� The desperate widow, of course.�
She took a deep breath.� �As your � concubine?�
�Not exactly,� he answered with a twinkle.� �That�s the point:� you wouldn�t have to move.�
�You would � come to see me here?�
�Yes.�
She shook her head.� �I wasn�t kidding.�� These days a man with money really can do better on the street corner!�
He looked her up and down.� �I don�t think so.�
She flushed and lowered her eyes.� �When can you fetch the papers?�
�They�re in the car.�
She looked up and took another deep breath.� �Will you bring them in?�
He returned in less than a minute, opening the front door for himself.
�Come on through,� she advised, leading the way into the kitchen.� She indicated the table and pulled out a chair for him.� �Spread your papers here.�
�It�s only a new mortgage contract,� he responded, retrieving a large paper from his briefcase.� He laid it before her on the table and uncapped his fountain pen.� �When you�ve read it, if you approve, sign on this line.� I�ll bring the existing mortgage, marked �paid,� to you on Friday at one o�clock.�
She took the pen and leaning over the table, signed as directed.� He smelled soap in her hair.� The dangling neckline revealed the upper curve of breasts above the brassiere.
�You haven�t read it!� he protested.
She raised up, returning the pen.� �Does it cheat me?�
�No, of course not!� It�s exactly as I described, a ten year note at five per-cent and $13.26 per month.�
�Mr. Ross, what it says doesn�t matter.� We both know you could throw me out of here next week.�
�No one will throw you out, Mrs. Thomas.� At least be assured of that!�
She took a breath.� �Call me Adele, won�t you?�
He smiled.� �Adele.� I like that!� Please call me Justin.�
She studied his face.� �Would you like to see the rest of the house?�
�Adele, the house is important to you.�
�Oh?� What do you consider important?�
�You!�
She blushed, and her chin came up slightly.� �Well, then, would you like to see the rest of me?�
�I�d like that very much.�
�The bedroom is just through here.�
Though she seemed young, she proved to have a lushly mature body.� The breasts were full but the tiny pink nipples had never enlarged for a baby�s mouth.� The skin of belly and hips was free of stretch marks.� He smelled no perfume, only fresh woman.
�Ruebens would have loved this view,� he told her as he removed his own clothing.
�The painter?� My husband warned me not to get too plump.�
�I love you just as you are.�
She smiled.� �Then I�m not too plump?�
�I agree with Ruebens.�
She came willingly into his arms.� After a tentative kiss she said huskily, �You�re already hard!�
�That surprises you?�
�My husband always made me do things to him.�
�Such as?�
�But you don�t need them.� Come on to bed.�
When she had thrown off the covers, he knelt between her legs.� �How about you?� Do you need anything?�
She smiled.� �Just curiosity.�� She spread herself wider.� �Come on.�
Indeed she was ready.� She gasped and shivered as he slid slowly to full penetration.� Her hips began to roll immediately, urging him to faster thrusts.� She said something unintelligible.� He raised his face off her shoulder to ask for a repeat, but her eyes were clenched shut, mouth distorted in a grimace.
She grew distinctly wetter as her breath came faster.� Suddenly she cried distinctly, �You goddam sister-fucking bastard!�
�Wh-what?�
Her arms tightened around him.� He felt her belly harden.
�Fuck me, you pussy-poking son of a bitch!�
He chuckled involuntarily.
�Oh, god, you�re killing me.� Fuck me harder, you dirty asshole munger!�
Her heels drummed the backs of his thighs.� His chuckle spread and erupted seminally.� She screamed, �Fuck me!� Fuck me!� and suddenly was all over soft as gelatin.� He lay atop her until his spasms ceased, then raised up on extended arms.� She was gasping for breath.� Her eyes watched him, bright in the gloom of the drawn shades.� Her arms and legs still held him.
�You think I�m funny?� she demanded.
His laughter eased.� �I think you curse almost as well as you screw.�
She sighed, her breath easing.� �You�re not the first to tell me that, just the first in a long time.�
�It�s a great combination!�
�I�m sorry.� I forget myself sometimes.� It can drive me crazy.�
�Only temporarily, I hope.�
She grinned.� �So far.�
�It�s an unusual talent, but not unheard of.� Where�d you learn it?�
She snorted.� �I�m surprised I didn�t tell you!�
�Maybe you did.�
She took a deep breath.� �Better let me take a douche.� David was sterile but I�m not.�
He rolled off her, asking as she slipped off the bed, �How do you know you�re not?�
�Because they scraped one out of me when I was sixteen.�
�Your brother�s?�
She grinned over her shoulder from the bathroom doorway.� �Why, Mr. Ross!� Don�t you know incest is illegal?�
He got up and used the toilet behind her, turning to watch her performance with the douche bottle over the tub.� When she had patted herself dry, she went to the sink and wrung out her wash cloth.� �Come here,� she invited, �and I�ll wash you, too.�
�If you want,� he agreed.
�I want you to be fresh for your next widow.�
He cocked an eyebrow.� �Please tell me you don�t feel bitter.�
�That fate delivered me to you so easily?� Why would anyone be bitter about that?�
�Adele, I would never take you for ��
�Oh, come here!�
She swabbed his genitals tenderly, drawing him over the sink, where she rinsed him in water warmed and delivered by cupped hands, apologizing that she had no coal for the water heater.� She withdrew the foreskin, exposing the partly resurrected glans, turning it delicately from one side to the other.
�What are you looking for?� he wondered.� �I have no disease.�
�It�s not that.� I want to get to know this fine fellow.� He�ll come back often, won�t he!�
�Well, I have to bring you the canceled contract.� After that ��
�Until I can make the payments?�
�Ah, yes.�
�Only on Fridays?�
�Fridays at one o�clock, except when you are indisposed.�
�I�ll look for a job, but it might take a long time.�
�Adele, I don�t care how long it takes.�
Standing dressed in the living room, briefcase in one hand, he took a ten-dollar bill from an inside breast pocket and tucked it into a fold on top of the couch back.� He said, �Your pantry is too bare, Adele.� And buy a little coal.�
She sighed.� Her eyes dropped but rose again.� She said softly, �Thank you, Mr. Ross.� Thank you for everything.�
�Call me Justin.�
He turned around and pulled down the window shade closer to the door.� �This will be our signal.� If you have a visitor, or for any other reason I shouldn�t stop on any Friday, set this shade all the way down but leave the other up.� I won�t knock.� I won�t even slow the car.�
She paused thoughtfully.� �Will you wait just a moment?�
�Of course.�
She came back from the bedroom immediately and held out a long door key.� �You don�t need to knock.�
�Thank you,� he said, pocketing the key.� �Will you give me a kiss, too?�
She came still naked into his arms.� Her hand caressed his cheek.� When their lips parted, he asked, �You�re not really displeased by this, are you?�
She smiled.� �Maybe I�ll tell you Friday.�
As he descended the front steps, he said under his breath, �You already did.� Nothing happened today you weren�t hoping for.�
Her house number was 803.� He seized on that as his identifier and resolved to file three notches into the shank of her key.
� *� *� *� *
�Justin!� I didn�t hear you come in.� You�re early.�
�I remembered how soft and tender women�s bodies can be first thing in the morning.� Where�s Tilly?�
�Sulking.� Soft and tender, huh?� Sour and scraggly is more like it.� I�m heading for a shower.� Want some coffee?�
�I�ll get it, Laura.� You go ahead.�
The barefooted woman in the indifferently buttoned housecoat needed no additional encouragement.� She was out the hall door before he could ask the cause of Tilly�s surliness.� He poured himself a cup at the dirty kitchen sink and took a few cautious sips before beginning to disrobe.� All his clothing soon hung from the coat tree provided just for him beside the hall door.� He donned the lounging robe and slippers awaiting him there, then finished his coffee, now cool enough for quick consumption, and followed the woman into the hall of the old house.
He detoured by their bedroom and knocked on the door with no response.� When he knocked harder, a shrill feminine screech resulted.� �Who the hell is that, the cops?�
�Justin,� he called.
�Goddam it, Justin, it�s only a little after nine!�
�May I come in?�
�Oh, you will anyway!�
He pushed the door open and entered the dim bedroom.� A woman with straggly black hair sat naked in the middle of the oversized bed, sheet covering her crossed legs.� She was slim with small breasts and thin shanks.� Her fingernails glowed a bright orange.
She rubbed her eyes with the palms of both hands as he approached, then declared, �But I�m not going to fuck you.� My bladder is about to bust.�
�I know I�m early,� he admitted, rounding the bed, �but it�s a very bright morning.�
She made a face.� �Morning!� Ugh!�
�Not a cloud in the sky,� he continued merrily, putting knee to bed and lifting the slop jar up beside her while removing its cover.
She threw off the sheet and hopped atop the jar with alacrity.� �Ooo, what a relief!� she cried, raising her voice to be heard above the sudden ringing.� �I forgive you for sounding like the coppers.�
�Justin to the rescue.�� He bent close to examine the operation between her legs, which she opened obligingly farther.
She pretended to be impressed.� �That�s a good use for a man:� piss catcher!�
�You do it so well, Tilly!� Reminds me of a fire hose.�
�A fire hose?�
�Well, a mare, at least.�
�You�re just jealous.�
�You�re probably right.� How about a kiss?�
�If you kiss that end you�ll get wet.�
�Wouldn�t be the first time.�� But he raised up and proceeded mouth-to-mouth.
She soon finished and got out of bed as he returned jar to floor.� She found her housecoat and said, �I smelled coffee on your breath.�
�Think Laura just made it fresh.�
�Where is Laura?�
�Gone for a shower.�
�Damn her anyway!�
�For what?�
�She bites.�
�Bites?� Hell, both of you lezzies leave tooth marks on me all too often!�
�Surely not!� Why would dykes bite a man?� Anyway, not on your dick.�
�What do you mean, Tilly?�
�She�s turning into a damned clit biter.�
He grinned.� �That�s a problem with an easy cure.�
�Huh!� What do you know about it?�
�Bite her back!�
She snorted.� �Just as I thought:� you don�t know shit.� When she bites, you think it�s in fun.� When you bite back, she thinks it�s in fun, so she bites again, only harder.� Then you bite harder!� Pretty soon �� I heard of girls that bit their clits slam off!�
He shrugged.� �Then don�t start it.�
She nodded sarcastically.� �As I said:� you don�t know shit.� Teeth feel good if done right.� Maybe not on a dick.� I never heard a man admit it, anyway.�
He shivered.� �I can believe that!�
He followed her down the hall and into the kitchen.� Lounging an elbow on the sink drain, he said, �I met a woman this week who was thinking of taking up your old profession, but according to her, it�s getting vicious on the street corners.�
Tilly regarded him narrowly as she poured her coffee.� �It always was.� I mostly worked in a house.� What�s the matter?� Can�t she get a job?�
�She says not.�
Tilly shook her head.� �It�s tough all over.� The johns are broke, too.�� She looked up with a grin.� �Planning to take her under your wing � I mean dick, Justin?�
He shook his head.�� �Wish I could.� She�s a looker.�
�Not like us used-up broken-down ex-tarts, eh?�
�What�s this?� Fishing for compliments?� You know I think you�re beautiful, Tilly.�
�Got you fooled, have I?�
�Yeah.� But you know what I really like about you?�
�Besides fucking you every way you can imagine � and a few you can�t?�
�Well, that too.� But I like your candor.�
She laughed.� �You like my war stories.�
�I like it that you�re so willing to talk.� You�ve had a very interesting life, Tilly.� Lots of people would pay for a book about it.� Too bad everything that smacks of pornography is so illegal!� If the bluenoses would mind their own business, I�d get you a ghost writer � an English tutor, at least.� It would be a good investment.� Your tale of stowing away to France and back on a troopship in 1918 would bring five dollars a copy in every tobacco shop in the country.�
Her eyes had a distant look.� �Wish I could do it again.�
�Huh!� The world couldn�t stand another war like that one.�
�I don�t need a war.� Just me and a ship full of men.�
He shook his head.� �For that you need a war.�
�That�s what Martin said.�
�Martin?�
�My husband.�
�Your husband?�
She grinned at him.� �Didn�t think I could get one?� He was my manager, too:� pimp, in other words.�
�Well, where is he now that you need him?�
�Pushing up daisies, thank god!�
�He�d come in handy at times like these.�
�Come in for his cut, you mean!� Too bad dicks have to be mounted atop such assholes.�
He chuckled.� �Isn�t it!� Drink up and let�s go help Laura dry off.�
Her hand plunged into her housecoat, after which she announced, �I need a shower, too.� You go ahead.� Laura will suck it up for you.� Just watch out for her teeth!�
The girls had found a show-business dresser somewhere and installed it in the room off the bathroom.� As expected, he found Laura sitting naked before it, bathed in its ring of light, though two of the bulbs were burned out.� He made a mental note to fetch replacements as he came up behind her.� She frowned at him in the mirror.
�What�s the matter?� he wondered, bending to kiss the top of her brown head, dry thanks to her shower cap, while both hands slipped under her arms to lift her full breasts.� �I hoped the shower would cheer you up.�
�It did till I sat down here.� I�m getting to be an old woman, Justin.�
�These don�t feel old.�
�I don�t feel old.� I look it � which is worse!�
�Now, Laura ��
She spun around with her face just under his.� A finger rose to a cheek.� �Just check these veins!� I don�t drink � well, not much.� I shouldn�t have such veins as these at only 39.�
At this range a dense network of tiny red lines was readily discernible in each cheek, on the flesh of the nose and the tip of the chin.� �I never noticed that before!� he remarked in surprise.
�Huh!� I took good care you didn�t!�
He nodded.� �Well, that�s your answer.� Put your makeup on.�
�That�s the whole problem!� I have to cake it on to cover them and that makes me look even older!�� Suddenly an eye brimmed over and a tear streak added a new line to her cheek.
He opened his robe and pulled her head against his naked belly.� The other hand stroked her hair.� He felt her shoulders shake silently.
�Both you girls are feeling sorry for yourselves this morning.� Why is that, as delicious as you are?�
�Only to you.� What did Tilly say?�
�Something about being used-up and broke-down.� And being a widow.� I didn�t know she was a widow!� Did your mother have these veins, too, Laura?�
She sniffed once or twice and said with muffled voice, �Probably.� In fact I don�t know.� I never knew any of my forebears.� I was raised in a foster home.� As to being a widow, twenty years ago marriage was the best way out of town.� I�m what they call a grass widow.�
�I�ve heard that phrase before.� What exactly do you mean by it?�
�Don�t it mean a woman with a foot-loose husband?� I married a john when I was eighteen.� He took me on a whirl but ran off soon as my belly started to swell.� Been gone ever since.�
He shook his head, a hand stroking her smooth back.� �I can�t see how any man could leave a woman sweet as you.� Where�s that kid?�
She shrugged.� �Left in an orphanage.�
�And the next?�
�Never twigged.�
He sighed.� �I�m sorry, Laura.� I know you�d make a fine mother.�
�Justin, you are a comfort.�
�Thank you, my dear.�
�And I like the way you smell.�
�Ah, I�m sorry about that.�� He released her head.� �Took a shower last night but not this morning.�
�You think I�m sarcastic?�
He opened his mouth to answer but hers slid down his belly as her hand caught his genitals.� He grunted when her lips closed on him.� After a moment he admitted, �Guess not.�
As Tilly had implied, he felt Laura�s teeth, but shortly decided that teeth as a hazard involved what she might do with them, not the current flicking of the corona, actually more pleasant than not.� He said, �I don�t know what Tilly has to complain of.�
She raised her head.� �Does it hurt?�
�No, but it sure makes a man wonder if he�s done anything to displease!�
She laughed, then lost her smile.� �Tilly told on me?�
�Did you hurt her?�
The woman sighed.� �I think so.� I got carried away.�
�How long have you been together?�
�Three years.� I know.� You�d think I knew better.� Well, I don�t always bite!�� In proof of that claim she opened fully and plunged her face into his groin.� He gasped as the back of her throat distinctly compressed his glans.
In the mirror he saw Tilly pass into the room through the open door, a towel over her shoulders, breasts swinging and pubic bush still moist.
�Knew what better?� she demanded, arriving at his side and pulling his robe away from Laura�s shoulder.� �Yeah, she knows that, all right.� Did she bite you?�
�Yes.�
�She really did?� God damn it, that�s � that�s ��
�Don�t get steamed up.� It felt good.�
�If you say so, but if she bit hard now, you wouldn�t have enough left to fuck a chipmunk.�
A sudden coolness in his belly suggested agreement with Tilly�s estimate, though he knew nothing about the depth of chipmunk vaginas.� To his surprise Laura did not react to the taunt.� She concentrated on the task in mouth and hand. �The coolness vanished and he began almost involuntarily to move his hips in time with her slow strokes.
�Want to suck my boobs?� Tilly offered, then shook her head.� �Laura, we ought to swap.� Ain�t much difference in mouths, but you got the best boobs by a mile.�
Laura disconnected far enough to say, �I�m proving I don�t have to bite.�
�Well, of course not,� Tilly agreed.� �Nobody�s biting you!�
Laura licked a dollop of spittle off the tip of the straining organ, then looked up at the other woman.� �I meant to bite you, Til, but I didn�t mean to hurt you.� Are you ever going to forgive me?� You know I won�t do it again.�
The other�s face went sulky.� �It�s still sore as a boil.�
�Because you won�t let me ease it.�
Tilly sniffed.� �Your tongue�s already busy.�
Laura threw out her free hand in an accepting gesture.� �Let�s swap, like you said.� You suck Justin while he sucks my boobs, and I�ll make you forget it ever hurt.�
Tilly�s eyebrows rose.� �Could we do that?�
�Not on this chair,� the man growled.� �On a bed maybe.�
�Yeah, it might work on a bed.�� A smile appeared on Tilly�s face but immediately vanished.� �I�ll give it a try.� You game, Justin?�
�Sure, if it keeps you broads happy without killing me.� Let�s go.�
After traipsing down the hall they formed an isosceles triangle atop the tangled bed with Laura�s upper torso as its base.� Predictably it soon became equilateral and shortly after that a more classical two-sided figure, as the two women demonstrated once again their relative insatiability.� Kneeling above them in jealous fascination, he was struck by their entwined similarity to a parallelogram, allowing for the shapely legs thrashing at either apex.
Tilly was arguably the more sensitive today.� She rolled away from the maddening tongue and lay panting across the foot of the bed.� Laura flopped over onto her own back with a full set of fingers gouging her pubes.� �Oh, god!� she cursed, wet face contorted in passion, fat breasts wobbling about her chest.
She was an inspiring sight.� Justin swung toward her.� �Let me!�
But with a final grunt she flung her hand aside, relaxed and lay breathing heavily.� She grinned contentedly up at the man, arching her back to press a wide nipple into his questing hand.
Her eyes dropped to his groin and she smirked, �Let you do what, Justy-boy?�
He grinned sheepishly.� �My eyes are bigger than my dick just now.� But I could lick you some more first.�
Her grin faded.� �You did come, didn�t you?�
Tilly responded behind him.� �A mouthful.�
Laura�s hand went to herself.� She held up an inconclusive finger.� �Did you spit it in me?�
�No,� Tilly replied with dignity, �not after all that carrying-on the last time.� If you want a brat, make him pop you straight.�
�If what?� asked Justin, eyes wide.� Laura blushed and looked away.
Tilly explained, �When you pop in her, she won�t even douche.� She�s getting soft in the head.�
Laura said softly, �Soon it�ll be too late for me.�� Her eyes swung up to him in appeal.� �I love kids, Justin, and so does Tilly.� Can you get us one?�
�Huh?�
She laughed gently at his look of consternation, but he soon saw she was serious.� �We could make a good home for a baby.� I hear people are abandoning them all the time these days.� Or adopt us a child � a girl, anyway.�
�How about a grown woman?� wondered Tilly.� �Justin�s got a new one.�
�Now, Tilly �� he began.
Tilly continued, �Actually, you know, that�s a good idea!� This joint�s got half a dozen empty rooms.� More women would fit in here like fingers in a glove.�� She grinned slyly up at him.� �More toothless places to stick your dick, Justin.�
�Your tongue, you mean!� he retorted.
�That, too,� she admitted.� �What d�you think, Laur�?�
�I already said what I want.� But I�ll never get it, will I?� Justin can�t stick it into babies or little girls.�
He began aggrievedly, �I never said ��
Tilly sniffed.� �I don�t see why not.� I was sucking off my mother�s boyfriend when I was three.�
Laura sneered, �You can�t remember when you were three.�
�I can remember sucking him, all right!�
�At least you can remember your mother.�
�Yeah.� Wish I couldn�t.�
�Don�t say that!�
Tilly shook her head, still studying the man who by this time had taken a cross-legged seat between the women.� She said, �You could find more where you found us, you know.�
�You think so?�� He grinned.� �That was a fluke.� Two others like you two?� No way � especially not just let out of the county lock-up.�
�Oh, they let them out all the time.�
�And they�re right back in.�
�That�s because they don�t have you, Justin.�
�Poor girls!� Oops!� �He turned his wristwatch up.� �Speaking of time, I need to make tracks.� How are you doing with that secretarial course, Laura?�
�40 words a minute yesterday.�
�Hey, that�s great!� And the shorthand?�
�Not so good.� I can�t read what I�ve written.�
�Well, keep plugging.� Everybody says it�s all just practice.� Hand me that sock, will you?�
When he was dressed, Tilly announced her intention to resume her interrupted sleep.� Laura followed him into the kitchen.� �You won�t pay any attention to all that talk about other women coming here, will you?� Tilly and I have troubles enough, just the two of us.�
He took out two dollars and gave it to her.� �This is for the extra groceries I forgot to order.� Tilly does have a point about the room in this house.� And I can�t help but feel sorry for women desperate as you two were.�
She chuckled sarcastically.� �I know what you feel!� When you bring home somebody�s granny I�ll believe you feel sorry for her.�
He smiled.� �What would you do if, as you say, I brought home a sweetheart � move out?�
�No, you bastard.�� But it would mean nothing but trouble.� Mark my words!�