Widowsmate
a Novelette by Kellis
January, 2000
Wednesday, September 19, 1934
Dear Charlene,
��������� Well, dear sister, the worst has happened to me, too, and
it turns out to be even worse than you said.�
I�ve missed two periods and had terrible morning sickness along with an
awful craving for strawberries, though thank heaven that has eased up.� They�re no longer in the stores!
��������� I don�t mean that.�
This is my second time, after all.�
You know what I mean, with Harry being dead so long.� Now I�m in the same boat with you.� Exactly the same.� The man I thought did it to me turns out to have had the mumps
when he was about fourteen, and can�t have done it.� So who does that leave?
��������� As I said, Charlene, I�m exactly like you.� I went to a party three months ago and got
drunk.� Really drunk, mainly to spite
the guy I mentioned because I thought he wanted me to go down on him all the
way, if you know what I mean.� It turned
out to be just a misunderstanding, but while it lasted �� Well, I think all the guys at that party
could be the one.� And I don�t remember
a single name � except for the one who couldn�t have done it.
��������� You stayed with Harry and me during your trouble.� I can�t ask you to return the favor because
of Johnny.� What I am asking is for you
to sound out the cousins.� They�ve
invited me and Johnny to come live with them, but I don�t know what they�ll say
when my figure changes.� You see them
often.� Will you �just mention� that I�m
expecting and see what they do?� Then
write to me?
��������� Thank you so much, Charlene.� I think the best friend anyone can have is her sister.
Love, Betty
No shade was pulled at either of Adele�s front windows.� Smiling, Justin turned his car around and parked before her walk.� Though still a bright warm day, he saw no one on the nearer porches.� At one o�clock on Friday afternoon they were all presumably at work or still seated over lunch.
The door was unlocked.� He opened it and slipped inside, calling, �Adele!�
�Wh-what?�� He recognized her voice through the bedroom door.� Inside he found her throwing off bedclothes.� She rose from the bed, stark naked, eyes blinking sleepily.� �Mr. Ross!� But what happened to Bobby?�
She yawned and stretched toward the ceiling, bones popping in arms and legs.� He said, �I�m sorry.� You were expecting someone else?�
She craned her neck to look at the bedside clock.� �It can�t be one o�clock!�
�I�m afraid it is,� he corrected her.� �Adele, would you like me to come back another time?�
�No, no!�� Her hands went to her face.� She regarded him owlishly.� �Please don�t go, Mr. Ross.�
�All right.�� He stepped close to her and stroked her arm.� �But won�t you please call me Justin?�
Immediately she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.� Though morning foul, her breath was no obstacle to his tongue.� Faintly he smelled semen, realizing as they parted that it emanated from her hair.
�I need to go bad,� she declared, releasing him.
�Go ahead.� Would you like me to make coffee?�
She turned away to the bathroom, answering over her shoulder, �Better let me do it.� I�m famished and need a sandwich, too.� Why don�t you put on my husband�s robe � it�s on the bedpost � and meet me in the kitchen?�
�Okay.�� He reversed a chair and removed his clothing to its back while hearing the toilet flush.� Shortly the clatter of utensils emanated from the kitchen.� The husband�s robe was invested with a strong and obviously fresh odor of tobacco.� He was sure it had been out of sight on his two previous visits.� What happened to Bobby, indeed?
In the kitchen he found her standing before the sink making a sandwich, still unabashedly naked.� She looked up as the floor creaked under his weight.� �Want one, too?�
�No thanks, I just finished lunch.�
�Oh.� I guess it is that time, isn�t it.�
He went to her, pulled her against him and bent to kiss the top of her shoulder.� Her hair definitely smelled of semen.� His hands cupped her breasts.� She backed her buttocks against him deliberately.� �Missed me a little?� she wondered.
Before he could answer, she sniffed.� �Whew!� That robe really stinks.�
�Bobby�s a smoker, is he?�
�You didn�t know?� Yes, you did.� You told me about it.�
�I told you?� Just who is this �� Oh.�
He could see her cheek round in a smile.� �You said he was William Smith.�
�He told you different, did he?�
�Last night.� He has a huge gold bracelet with the monogram, R D.�
�He was here last night?�
�All night long, I thought.�� She smiled again.� �He just wouldn�t let me alone!� We finally went to sleep, must have been in the early morning.� I don�t know when he left.� Oh!� Excuse me!�
She whirled out of his arms and dashed into the bedroom to emerge wreathed in smiles, holding up a twenty dollar bill.� �Look what he left on the dresser!� Just like Monday.�
�Ten quickies,� he noted with a grin.
She laid the bill on the table and returned to her sandwich makings.� �Not ten.� I don�t think even four.� But he surely tried!�
�How did you get it in your hair?�
Hands flew to her head, fingers running through her golden locks.� �He did, didn�t he!� Oh, well, it washes right out.�� Her eyes twinkled at Justin.� �I�ll bet I�m about as rank as that robe.� Let me eat and I�ll take a quick bath.�
He shook his head.� �Not on my account.� I like a woman who smells � busy.�
�Busy!�� She laughed.� �That�s a cute way to put it.�
�It�s sexy.�
She felt of the coffee pot, commanding, �Hurry up and perk!�� She took a bite of her sandwich and said around it, �Won�t you sit down, Mr. Ross?�
He grimaced.� �Do you call Bobby �Mr. Dillon� to his face?�
�No,� she said with a slight smile.� �He�s not my manager.�
�Your manager!� What are you talking about, Adele?�
�You know:� the man who gets the customers for a whore.�
He took a breath.� �Adele, there�s a special word for such a man:� pimp.� It�s not a nice word.�
��Pimp,�� she repeated experimentally.� �What�s wrong with it?�
�I don�t want to be called that.�
�You weren�t.� You�re my manager.�
He sighed.� �I was going to play with your tits, but maybe I will sit down.�
He pulled out a chair and dropped into it.� She poured herself a cup from the now bubbling pot and turned to face him, leaning back with an elbow on the sink drain.� He saw that her thick pubic hair, only slightly darker than the pale blond head, was matted in spots.
�But you are my manager,� she pointed out.
He inhaled.� �If that�s so, tell me this:� are you taking any precautions with your customers?�
�Precautions?� Against disease?�
�I was thinking mainly against pregnancy.� Didn�t you say it was your husband who was sterile?�
She dropped her eyes.� �I tend to forget.�
He gestured.� �Then you know what�s bound to happen.�
�You came in me!�
�Didn�t I tell you?� I had the mumps when I was fourteen.�
�Oh.�
�But I don�t know another man who did.� I thought you liked to douche.�
�When I can remember it.�
�The only real alternative is to make them wear condoms, but a � working girl can�t depend on that.�
�I�ll try to remember it.� But if I get caught ��� She shrugged.
�What you need to do is get married.�
�Oh?� Have you seen any prospects?�
He sighed.� �No.�
She poked the last quarter of her sandwich into her mouth and said something unintelligible around it.� He recognized a grin despite the distorted mouth and waited until she swallowed.� �What was that?�
She swallowed again.� �A joke.� I asked you to marry me.�
�Marry you, Adele?� If I thought you were enjoying harlotry so much just for the money, I might take you seriously.�
She raised her chin.� �I said it was a joke.�� She regarded him thoughtfully.� �You�re right:� I like men.� Lots of them.�
�You learned that in the last week or two?�
�No.� I learned that when I was very young.� What I learned in the last week or two is how approachable men are.� I always thought someone else had to make the arrangements.� Now except for Bobby I�ve been making them myself.� It�s easy.�
��Easy,�� he repeated with a sigh.� �It�s also very dangerous, Adele.� It�s playing with a hot fire.�
�Because they might tell on me?� Tell who?�
�You can�t be that innocent!� Prostitution is illegal, you know.�
�My men would tell the cops?�
�No.� But their wives or girl friends could, or your neighbors if anything wild happens.�
�Wild?�
�Some will report you even if they only see many strange men coming to your house.�
Her eyes narrowed.� �When I was just married, living in an apartment house, my neighbors wanted me to sign a paper that the woman down the hall was a whore.� They said she was corrupting their children.�
�That�s what I�m talking about.�
�What it means is, I can�t have a lot of men here.�
�Right.� One a night, maybe.� In the winter, when nobody�s on the porches, maybe a few more.�
�That�s when I want two.�
�Two!� What do you mean?�
�Two at once.�
�Adele!� You don�t actually mean ��
She grinned as she interrupted him.� �But I do!� My husband was 25 years older than I.� He liked men and women.� Sometimes he would bring men home with him.� I fucked another man in front of him many times, at the same time with him almost as many.� I even fucked three men at once, the last time in this house just before he died.�
�Wait a minute!� Didn�t you tell me you never fucked any man but your husband?�
She frowned.� �I never said that.�� One of her eyebrows rose.� �We were talking about my husband limiting my male acquaintances.� I said I never fucked one apart from him.� He was always fucking me, too, or at least watching and feeling.�
�Feeling?�
�He liked to feel them going in.�
�And you liked it?�
She took her time, eyes level with his, before admitting, �Yes, I did.�
�Your husband made you do it?�
�Well, he didn�t have to twist my arm.�
�God!�� He shook his head.� �This went on for years, I take it.� How did you avoid pregnancy.�
�I told you he was sterile.� The jism in my twat was always his, or he made sure I douched.�
�I see.�
She licked her lips.� �It could be the same � with you.�
�I don�t think so.� Where did your husband find the men?�
�He belonged to several clubs.� He found men of the same kind.�
�Unfortunately for your plan, I don�t know any men like that.�
She smiled.� �Bobby is one.�
�How do you know?�
�I talked about it with him.� As you said, he likes to talk, especially about sex.� He said he�s starved for talk about that!� He thinks he�s an adrogyne, too.� That�s the word my husband used to describe his habits.�
�He thinks so!�
�He�s a funny case, if you believe him, and I do.� In the last twelve years he�s fucked nobody but a French maid who threatened to blackmail him.� Until me.�
�What happened to the maid?�
�A detective paid her off and threatened to beat her.�
�I see why he told you about it.� The damned fool should�ve left his bracelet at home.�
�I guess I shouldn�t be talking about him.�
�Why not � to your manager?� How did he happen to come back?�
She drained her coffee cup before answering.� �Monday night we sat and talked.� You were right:� he was terribly nervous.� When a man was nervous, my husband used to make me take off my clothes in front of him.� It worked Monday night, too.� Bobby perked right up.� I went down on him and he lasted about five seconds.� He said he was very grateful and I guess he was, twenty dollars� worth on the dresser, but he left right away.� I sat and thought about his money having to represent gratitude, since he left with nothing else to show for it.�
�Didn�t he say he�d be back?�
�Not a word.� But he had my phone number and called me yesterday afternoon, wanting to visit and spend the night.� Of course I agreed.� I called you to make sure it was all right, but the girl said you were out of the building.� I decided not to leave a message.�
�What happened last night?�
�A lot of talk and a lot of fucking.� I went down on him, he went down on me, and then we fucked, I think for hours.�� Her hand dropped to her pubes and gouged herself.� �I�m sore.� He�s got a long cock.�
�Long?�
�Long enough to pound my womb.� That drives me nuts but leaves me sore.�� Suddenly she laughed.� �You know how I am when I�m coming.� You should�ve seen his eyes when I cut loose.�
Justin joined in her chuckle.� She put down her coffee cup, came to him and sat on the edge of the table beside him, leaning forward with her arm on his shoulder.� Her eyes sparkled.� �It�s fun telling you about it.�
�For me, too.� Did he say anything about seeing you again?�
�Yes.� I want to talk to you about that.�
�What did he propose?�
�He wants me to go to a party with him tomorrow night.�
�Saturday night.� What kind of party?�
�That new kind you hear about in the newspapers since liquor was legalized.�
�A cocktail party?�
�Yes.� At the house of a friend of his.� There�ll be dancing and drinking and they�ll serve canap�s and hors d�oeuvres.� He wants me to talk to them about my marriage.�
�He wants what?�
�About my husband�s idea of fun, actually.�
�You mean this androgyne idea?�
�Exactly.�
�Ha!� Adele, did you ever see or read Shaw�s Pygmalion?�
�I don�t think so.�
�You ought to read it before you debate the advantage of multiple simultaneous sex partners at a cocktail party!�
She laughed gently and kissed his forehead.� �Thanks for worrying about me.�
He shook his head.� �Wait a minute.� I�m amazed you ever heard of canap�s and hors d�oeuvres!�
�Why?� They�re just appetizers.� My husband threw a lot of parties before the crash.� I served sweet appetizers when we couldn�t get booze and cheesy ones when we could.� He talked about androgyny a lot and I listened.� I think it�ll be rather fun to spout his ideas on those unsuspecting party-goers.� Bobby is tickled.� He says it should feel to me about like it does to a man when he squirts a woman�s face full.�
�He said what?� Talk about an exaggeration �� I suppose he squirted yours.�
�Into my hair, even!� He admits loving to see it on me.� And that�s odd.� My husband wanted it to go down my throat.� What�s your preference?�
�I guess I agree with your husband.� The idea is to put it into the woman, after all! �� So did you accept the invitation?�
�Well, I thought at first I didn�t have anything to wear.� Then I remembered a party gown my husband bought me, d�collet�e almost to the nipples.� I tried it on for Bobby.� Guess I didn�t gain as much weight as I thought.� Or maybe it�s the way it�s cut.� He loved it.� It�s a long gown, so it�s still stylish.� My boobs haven�t sagged too much, so I can wear it without a bra so long as nothing makes my nipples hard.� But he did agree that I'm allowed panties.� I told him otherwise I�d probably stain the furniture, especially if he fucks me in the car on the way.�
�So you did accept?�
�Yes.� He�s coming for me at eight tomorrow night.�
He studied her a moment.� �You�re looking forward to it, aren�t you?�
She smiled.� �It�ll be exciting.� I�ve had no social life at all since my husband died, and now �� Suddenly life is very interesting.� Thanks to you.�� She leaned close and licked his lips apart with her tongue.� His hands sought her breasts.
After a bit he separated them and, pushing his chair back, got to his feet.� He threw the husband�s robe across the table, then stepped around her leg, his knees parting hers.� As he had noted before, a dining table was just the right height.� She spread her legs so far apart that her hips creaked, and he slipped easily into her.
Both her arms rested on his shoulders.� She grinned lazily at him.� �Just like the carpenter.�
He paused.� �Oh, I forgot:� you said you were sore.�
�This way is good.� You can�t get deep enough to hurt, but I can lean forward a little� � which she did � �and you rub just where it feels the best.�
She was able to impart a slight rolling motion when he resumed thrusting.� He murmured, �It�s perverse of me, I know, but I like to � put in after another man, if he�s an acquaintance.�� He chuckled self-consciously.� �It�s as if I�m throwing him out, taking his woman!�
�My husband liked that, too.� What I like best is two at once.�
�In the same place?� Wouldn�t that be too much?�
�Ooo, that feels good, Mr. Ross!� No, not in the same �� Ooo!� Go faster, you bastard.� Faster!�� Her body quivered and she strained against him.� �One in my cunt and one in my ass is the right way.� Oh!� Fuck me, you mother loving son of a bitch.� Fuck!� Fuck!�
The undeniable signs of passion fetched him, too.� She screamed softly at the feel of his ejaculate, her whole body trembling with the intensity of her effort, and called, �Deeper!� God dammit, fuck deeper!�
Gasping for breath through his laughter, he was still able to remark, �Thought you were sore!�
Arms around his neck, she sagged against him, soft breasts bumping his chest.� With a sigh she proclaimed, �You�re a good poke, Mr. Ross.�
�Even though I�m a bastard and a mother loving son of a bitch?�
�I think especially because of that.�
�You seem to like the idea of incest.�
�Do I?� I�m liable to say anything then.� Let me down, will you?� If I don�t get a shower I�ll make you stink.�
�You think I would care?�
�You ought to � for your next widow.� Bobby told me you have a dozen of us.�
�Huh!� Half that number would kill me.�� Nevertheless he backed away from her.
She turned immediately toward the bathroom door, regarding him with a twinkle over her shoulder.� �He actually believes it.�
�He has no idea.�
Justin followed her into the bathroom.� She flung back the shower curtain and turned on the water.� �He�s your boss at the bank, isn�t he?�
�I have about a dozen widows� mortgages in my portfolio of accounts, yes, but he only knows of three that I � support.�
She paused to adjust the temperature and asked wonderingly, �But how can widows support themselves?�
�I guess they have jobs.�� He shrugged.� �In fact I don�t know how they manage.� I only contact the ones that are about to begin foreclosure.�
�And we�re grateful.�
He wanted to say, �At first,� but withheld that sour comment in favor of a mild, �Thank you.�
�No.� Thank you!� Come on in.� The water�s fine.�
�You bought some coal, I gather.�
�Two tons.� And the delivery man fixed the automatic stoker.�
Justin stepped in the shower and took the soap that she handed him, raising his voice above the hiss of the water.� �What did that cost you?�
�Five dollars and a half.�
�So much?�
She laughed sharply.� �He swore he knew no way to conceal fucking me from his wife.�
�Did he!�
�He was an old man, though:� white-headed.�
�That old?� Still �� Did you show him these?�
�Well, the cleavage, maybe.�
�How about this fuzz?� Should�ve let him smell it.�
�You think that would�ve worked?�
�It would on me.� Handling him as you�re doing me would be certain.�
�The snaps on his overalls looked too hard to undo.� Mmm.� Speaking of hard �� Let me turn around.�
She leaned forward, pushing her buttocks against him.� �Put some soap on it,� she advised.
With his fist�s support he entered the tight orifice readily.� This woman clearly knew how to relax the sphincter.� In two or three thrusts he penetrated to the maximum.� Her hand came back and caught his hip.� �Hold still.�
Slowly she straightened up, forcing his organ to conform to the new geometry of her passageway.� She sighed and said, �If only Bobby were here!�� He tried moving experimentally and found that her position expelled him at the slightest withdrawal.� She laughed, turned around again and scrubbed him gently between her two hands.� �I told you to hold still.�
�Then what�s the point?�
�It works when someone�s in front, too.� You just have to be synchronized.�
�Three people standing up, eh?� You like that?�
�It�s possible to do four:� one man lying and the other three straddling him.�
�Huh!� That sounds hard to arrange.�
�It�s hard to arrange, all right, in more ways than one.� This water is starting to get cold.�
�So it is.�� He reached around her and turned it off.
�I need a larger heater,� she explained, pushing back the shower curtain.
Dried off and in the bed together, she crept atop him.� �I am still sore,� she explained, �but you won�t be sorry,� which suggested that she would conduct further anal exercises.� To his surprise she introduced him into her vagina but gripped his sides with her knees.� After a few strokes she leaned forward.� �You can play with my boobs.�
�Thank you.� But I also like to watch them swing.�
Her motion on him, slow and deliberate, was more circular than up and down.� Her eyelids were half-closed, her face expressionless.� After a long while he said, �I don�t think this is doing much for you.� If you�ll turn around, I�ll fix that.�
She continued without pause, as if he had not spoken.� He opened his mouth to repeat his offer when she asked, �Do you mind if I go to Bobby�s party?�
�Mind?�� He shook his head.� �I have no right to mind.� Did he say how long it would last?�
�Yes, you do;� you�re my manager.� My husband made me go to parties.� Sometimes he made me fuck other men there.�
�Adele, no one is making you do anything now.�
�Bobby was very interested to hear about my husband�s parties.� He may want me to fuck other men, too.�
�Did he tell you that?�
�No.� Maybe he wouldn�t at the first party�� He didn�t say how long it would be, only that he has to see his wife Sunday afternoon.�
�He told you about her, did he?�
�He talks too much, does he?�� She opened her eyes and grinned at him.�� �Not like you.�
�It�s easy to see why he told you about her.�
�Isn�t it!�
�How about you?� he asked.� �Did you tell him about your adventures with the plumber and the carpenter and the candlestick maker?�
�The who?�� She giggled.� �Can I get free candles, too?�
�Probably.� I�m still amazed that your coal man turned you down.� Did you tell Bobby about them?�
�No.� He�s not my manager.�
Suddenly she froze.� He heard it, too:� a furtive knock on the door.� She craned around to look at the bedside clock, then grinned back at him.� �It�s the newspaper boy,� she said softly, then turning toward the front of the house, shouted, �Just a minute!�
�Get rid of him,� advised Justin.
�Oh, no!�� She swung a leg over him and sprang out of bed, jiggling belly and breasts riveting his gaze.� �I want you to see his big cock.�
�His what?�
She grabbed up her housecoat from the dresser and slipped her arms into it.� She said, again in a low voice, �You can see most of the living room if you stand here with the door just barely open.�
With a quick yank she lowered both shades together on the two windows to the left of the bed, plunging the bedroom into gloom.� She grinned at him.� �But he can�t see you.�
�Adele,� he warned softly, �don�t you dare get the idea of bringing him in with us.�
�Don�t worry.� He�s more afraid of you than you are of him.�
�I doubt it.� That boy is poison for you � and me, too!�
Her eyes glittered.� �Not poison:� opportunity.� Come on to the door.�
Without waiting to see if he obeyed, open housecoat flying, she slipped through the door into the living room and pulled it almost closed behind her.� He heard the floor creak as she padded barefoot across the living room carpet and the squeal of the front door hinges.� By that time he was out of bed, standing naked at the edge of the door, staring through the inch-wide opening.� His erection had not even had time to subside.
The figure in the open front door, limned by the daylight behind him, was a heavily freckled curly-haired lad of fourteen or fifteen in Justin�s judgment, wearing a short-sleeved shirt with horizontal stripes, shapeless blue jeans and scuffed high-top shoes.� A large gray cloth bag emblazoned Daily Clarion in large Old English hung from one shoulder, its contents bulging.� He sang out in the androgynous voice Justin remembered from the telephone, loud enough to be overheard from the street, �It�s Friday!� Time to collect, ma�am.�� He was already holding the screen door open.
�Well, come in and collect,� the woman said more quietly.
He obeyed with alacrity, smiling presumably in response to a smile from her, and closed both doors hard behind him.� Standing near her, he was half a head the shorter.
�I came as quick as I could,� he explained rapidly, �but I only can stay a minute.� Jeremy is meeting me at the end of the street.�
�Dicky,� she cried, suddenly furious, �that�s what you said Wednesday!�
�Well, it�s true.�� His eyes narrowed.� �Who�s in the car?�
�Mr. Ross.� He�s sleeping in the back room.�
�The one you was talking to?� What if he wakes up?�
�Don�t worry.� He�s drunk.� Not that it matters, if you�ve got to leave straight off ��
His face contorted.� �Please, Adele, I�ve been thinking about you all day, afraid to stand up in school.� Can�t you do me?� It won�t take a minute.�
�You promise to mow my lawn tomorrow?�
�Yeah.� First thing.� And I�ll do what you like again, too.�
�Well, I�m ready.�� She opened her housecoat.� �Pull your pants down.�
He stared up and down within the housecoat and licked his lips.� The bag of newspapers thudded on the floor.� The buttons in his fly took only a moment.� Jeans and underpants� fell to his knees.
Adele stood more to the side as a half-turgid penis popped into view.� She took it in hand, stretched it out and snorted, �This wouldn�t stop you from standing up!�
�It�s getting hard,� he protested.� �Suck on it and you�ll see.�
She took another sideways step and fell to one knee.� From Justin�s vantage the two were seen in profile.� The penis was already longer and thicker than his own, but just before she enclosed it in her mouth the woman complained, �Not even hard yet!�
The lad gasped at her touch and clenched his fists.� Shortly he leaned sideways on the door.� His hands fluttered in the air, then closed on the blond head, guiding it back and forth.
She released him and raised an annoyed face.� �Quit that!� You�ll mess up my hair.�
He withdrew the hands as if they had fallen on a hot stove.� She glanced once in Justin�s direction, a smile on her lips, while her hand slowly drew the foreskin far back over the organ, now seen as impressive indeed.
�Come on,� the lad urged.� �I�m about to come.�
She mouthed it again.� Her cheeks collapsed in suction.� He began to grunt and pump his hips, causing her hand to grip the shaft, obviously to limit his penetration.� He groaned and his body went suddenly rigid.� Justin saw her larynx bob.� The lad jerked back.� �God!� he cried, streaking her forehead, eyelashes and cheek with white lines.� After another oath he pulled completely away, his own hand milking his last upon her carpet.
He took a deep breath and glowered at her.� �Damn you!� he said, low but fierce.� �I told you not to suck me dry!�
She stood up, ran a finger along her cheekbone and showed it to him.� �Obviously I didn�t.�
�You were going to!�
�Don�t be silly, Dicky.� What makes you think I�d want to do that?�
�You like the taste.�
She laughed and cocked her head.� �You mean, you like the taste, is that it?�
He snatched up his pants.� �I gotta go.�
�But you�re coming back tomorrow?�
He stared at her while buttoning his fly.� �I want to make you cuss.�
�No doubt you will.�
When she had closed the door behind him, she hurried immediately back to Justin and came into his arms, thrusting her face close.� �He�s right,� she admitted, �I do like the taste.� You try it.�
�What makes you think I�m an androgyne?�� Nevertheless he licked a white blob from her eyebrow, then smacked his lips.� �Hmm.� I admit it�s different.�
�Very young men,� she murmured, eyes twinkling.
�What about them?�
�Their jism is thicker, stronger, less watery.� Taste the bouillon?�
�Maybe a little.�
�And they have more of it, especially when they�ve been dreaming about fucking all day.� I expect I�m the first to suck him off, but I�m far from his first woman.� With a cock like that they�re bound to notice him.� He stops in at two other houses on this street.� Already, as you saw, he�s getting impatient with me.�
�How is it that you know so much about very young men?�
�The first jism I tasted came from a man older than Bobby, the second from one about like Dicky.� The difference was striking.�� She found her moist bath-towel and wiped her face.
He cocked an eyebrow.� �Our first two meetings:� that was all an act, wasn�t it?�
�An act?�
�You played yourself down, the poor naive widow, deliberately.� Why?�
�I should think that�s obvious, Mr. Ross.�
�And this talk about me being your manager.�
�No act there, sir.� I need a manager.� Come on back to bed.� I can get it up again in no time.�
�I�m sure you can!�
She flopped backwards on the bed without waiting for him, curves jiggling wildly.� She spread her legs to maximum separation and parted her labia with fingers on either side, exposing the smooth nonparturient orifice in its carmine surround.� She said slyly, �Dicky put his whole fist in there.� Hard to believe, isn�t it?�
�Think mine would fit?�
�Only one way to find out.� Bring that salve from the night stand.�
He shook his head.� �You�re a bachelor�s dream, Adele.� But it�s after three.� I need to get back to the office for the weekend summaries.�
�Aw!� A quicky first?�
�It wouldn�t be a quicky.�
She sighed, then laughed.� �Don�t forget to stagger to your car.�
With a snort he began to gather his clothing.� She said, �At least tell me what you think of Dicky�s equipment.�
He chuckled.� �You want me to admit I�m burned up with envy?�
�Aren�t you?�
�It depends on how you think about it.� A man would be proud of one like that.� It�s bound to fascinate the women, but that could also be a liability.�
She sniffed.� �If you believe what you hear in powder rooms, one that big scares off as many as it attracts.�
�How reassuring to us ordinary types!�
She laughed, then added pensively, �I�ve seen a lot of cocks, but I never saw one that wouldn�t do the job.�
�Now that is reassuring!�
�You�re not missing anything, Mr. Ross.�� She smiled lazily.� �And I think between Bobby and you and the bedpost, I won�t miss very much either.�
��������������������������������������������������������� *� *� *� *
�Macy said you�ve been looking for me, sir?�
�Yes.� Come in, Justin, and shut the door, will you?�
When he had complied, Dillon waved him to the seat beside the desk and snubbed out a cigarette while saying, �I suppose you know I went to see Adele again Thursday night.�
�Yes, sir.�
�Did she tell you she�s accepted a social invitation with me for tomorrow night?�
�Yes, a cocktail party.�
�I trust that meets with your approval.�
Justin shrugged.� �Why shouldn�t it?�
�I don�t know.� But apparently your approval is required.� She calls you her manager.�
Justin nodded.� �I know she does.� It seems to reassure her somehow.�
Dillon smiled wryly.� �Just what is this fatal hold you have on women, Justin?�
�Fatal?� That�s a pretty strong word.�
�I gather it�s a pretty strong hold!�
Justin shifted in his chair.� �Women are very slippery creatures.� I�d say any man who thinks he has much of a grip on one had better watch for an unpleasant surprise.�
�That may be, but it�s your grip on Adele that concerns me.� She refuses to move without your okay.�
�Does she!�� Justin cocked his head.� �I gather she told you a lot about her marriage.� From what she says, her husband controlled her every move.� I think that�s an exaggeration at best.� He may have encouraged her along certain lines, but I have reason to believe she�s a very independent agent and probably always was.� I think she likes the idea of having someone else to blame in case anything goes wrong.� You�ll notice she accepted your invitation before she told me about it.�
�Provisionally.� You�re saying it�s all a sham?�
�Not exactly.� But I suspect if she doesn�t want to comply with some request, you�ll find her needing to wait for my approval.�
�I see.� Then, since she didn�t wait, you think she really wants to go to my party?�
�Oh, I know it.� She�s looking forward to it.�
�That�s good.� So am I�� Justin, she is a most remarkable woman.�
�Yes, she is.�
�Educated and refined, but you�d never know it during sex.� What a combination!� I�ll admit I�m strongly taken with her.� How well do you know her?�
Justin mulled his answer briefly and found defiance to be a component of his reaction.� So he said, �About as well as you do, sir.�
The officer�s eyes narrowed.� He took a breath.� �An honest answer, I believe.� All right.� I intend to see a lot more of her.� I�d like to be the only one who sees her, except on my authorization.�� He smiled grimly.� �I guess I�d like to be her �manager.�� Do you know any way it could be arranged?�
�You might try telling her that.� I wouldn�t stand in your path.� But I have to warn you:� I don�t think a legal way exists to keep her away from other men.�
Dillon stared into the distance and sighed.� �That agrees with some things she told me.�� His gaze settled on Justin.� �Whom else does she � welcome?�
�Regularly?� Only myself.� I think.�
�I can tolerate you.� Will you � let me know if you contemplate introducing another man regularly?�
It was Justin�s turn to sigh.� �Mr. Dillon, let me restate that in fact I have essentially no control over her.� It seems otherwise, I think, because so far my proposals have agreed with her desires.�
Dillon nodded.� �I understand that.� Nevertheless will you let me know?�
�All right.� So long as you remain attentive.�
�That�s likely to be a very long time, Justin.� Thank you.�� He leaned back in his chair.� �What does she have to say about me?�
�She likes you, says you like her, hopes to get you to do as her husband did.�� Justin smiled and shook his head.� �I�m not much at playing Cupid.�
The officer nodded.� �I expect she�ll get whatever she wants from me.�
�Don�t they from all of us?�