Shelton had been too weary that night to develop the film; as a result, it was after two o’clock the next afternoon before he withdrew the negatives from the soup and examined them in light. As he looked at the developed film, his prick stirred to life again. Of them all, probably the best of the batch was the one where she was blowing him, he thought.
He didn’t even remember taking the picture, so lost had he been in the overpowering sensation of her lips and tongue working on his cock. The photograph showed him with his straining buttocks lifted at least a foot off the bed as he seemingly sought to jam the spurting cock deeper into her eager throat. Shining white cum squirted from between her pooched out lips. The woman’s expression was the most surprising thing about the picture. On her face was a look of sheer, unadulterated exaltation… as though she had accidentally stumbled upon the legendary Fountain of Youth.
Shelton thoughtfully hung the negatives up to dry and went back into his office where he sat, feet propped up on the desk, staring out the window and seeing nothing. For a moment yesterday afternoon, he had entered paradise. A beautiful, seemingly untouchable woman. The world of softness. An expensive velvet comforter hiding satin sheets atop a king-sized bed… not a threadbare and grease-spotted corduroy cover hiding the sagging springs of his own pathetic pull-down Murphy bed. Once again he felt her body thrashing beneath him, screaming out obscenities that were never truly “obscene” coming from the throat of a woman in a fit passion. Once again he tasted the rare elixir of her vagina. Once again he felt his tongue trembling at the threshold of her anus. He groaned deep in his throat and was abruptly angry at the realization he was actually feeling sorry for himself “You stupid son of a bitch,” he snarled aloud, castigating himself “So you got to fuck a rich man’s wife. Does that spoil screwing poor women for you? Isn’t one cunt just as good as another?” Even as he said the words, he already knew the answer to the questions: Yes, she had spoiled everything. Her money had nothing to do with it; she could be in debt up to that wonderful ass of hers, and it wouldn’t make any difference. He’d had her; and as obviously inexperienced as she was, no other broad could ever be the same again for him. Angrily, he fished for a cigarette and then cursed as he found the package was empty. He threw the pack at a waste basket and shook his head mournfully as it hit the rim and bounced When the phone jangled at
that moment, he almost ripped the cord from the receiver when he yanked it up and growled, “Yeh?”
Her voice came over the line. “Mister Shelton?”
He took a deep breath and tried to sound civilized. “Yes, Mrs. Akron.”
She didn’t waste any time in getting to the point. “How did the photographs turn out?” He could sense her embarrassment over the phone.
For a split second he thought about telling her the film had been ruined and that they would have to do it over again. Then he realized she wouldn’t buy that and, besides, it would be a reflection of inefficiency on his part. “They’re O.K.,” he said non-committally.
He heard the sound of her swallow over the phone and then her voice was brisk and businesslike. “Good. Are you willing to continue working with me?”
“More photographs,” he wisecracked and almost blew the whole deal right there.
The heat of her anger came through the miles of wire. “Don’t be smart, Mister Shelton.”
“Sorry.”
“All right. Here’s what I want you to do.
First: I need to get in touch with at least three different… ah ‘wife-swapping’ organizations. I want to know the name of each of the club’s leaders. It would be better, I believe, if they were from another part of the state. They must be high-class people, however, No tramps! And… one of them has to be an all-Negro, or mainly Negro, club. Is that understood?”
Shelton blinked and scratched his right ear thoughtfully. “That may be a tall order, Mrs. Akron. Christ! I’m not even sure where to start.”
“At two hundred dollars a day plus expenses, I’m sure you’ll find a place.”
“It’s liable to take a week or so…” he began.
“I don’t care. I’ll give you a retainer. Will a thousand dollars be enough to start?”
Shelton, speechless, merely nodded and then, suddenly realizing she couldn’t see his nod of acceptance, said quickly, “That will be fine.”
“Good. Incidentally, I don’t know anything about these organizations, but I would suggest you begin looking at the Santa Barbara Royal Yacht Club for a group. It’s common knowledge that they have an active bunch that swaps with other yacht clubs. Perhaps you can find the all-Negro group in the San Francisco Bay Area. For my plan, I will need at least twelve couples altogether. No more than fifteen couples though.”
Slowly, Shelton brought his feet down off the desk. He realized he probably should keep his mouth shut, but he also knew the question had to be asked even if he got his head snapped off “Mrs. Akron… would you mind telling me just what you have in mind?”
She didn’t answer for so long a time that Shelton began to think she had left the line, then he heard her inhale and exhale loudly as if she had just reached a decision. “You’re entitled to know, I think. I’m planning a little surprise party for my husband. He’ll enjoy it so! I want him to come home to me… at midnight… after visiting his little tart, and I want him to walk in on a wild orgy. He’s a brilliant banker, but a small-minded, possessive, selfish, petty little bigot. He hates Negroes. And I want him to see his wife being made love to like the lowest harlot by a black man. I want him to be humiliated in public, with lots of people around to see him squirm. I want big very big enlargements in the hallway of me… and you… in bed together!”
The breath whistled out of Hansen’s constricted throat, “Jesus!”
“It is the only way I can ever repay him.”
The broad was nuts. She had to be. She’d slipped her trolley somewhere. This thing was getting crazier by the minute. Hansen knew he had to make some effort to change her mind… even if it were to cost him a thousand bucks. “Look, Mrs. Akron. I don’t know about this. How do you know these groups will respond to your invitation? I mean, hell! you’re a stranger; they aren’t acquainted with you. Most of them are secret organizations not easy to break into. Besides, I’m sure they won’t go along with any party you plan unless your husband participates, too.”
She brushed all his arguments aside. “They’ll come if the invitation is worded properly. I intend to see that it is an affair they will be eager to attend.”
“And your husband?”
“I thought you understood that, Mister Shelton. You are to be my partner for the evening…”
Shelton’s mind was reeling when he hung up several minutes later. He was still in a daze when he made the photographic prints and put them on the dryer. In the fifteen years as a private detective, he had never before made extra copies of any client’s photographs… no matter how juicy. This time, however, he broke his own rule because he knew that he wanted always to remember Sylvia Akron and what she had done to and for him that afternoon.
He really didn’t come back to complete reality until he found himself standing before a mirror in one of Palo Alto’s best known and most expensive men’s stores having a $350.00 black mohair and silk suit fitted to him. He hardly recognized the man he saw in the mirror; it was a different Shelton, a Shelton who was almost polished, almost handsome. It was the image of the man Shelton had wanted to be when he had planned to become a lawyer. The war had shot down those plans. Before he left the store, he had blown another $75 on one pair of shoes, and over $100 on shirts and ties.
As he walked back to his dingy little office, he noticed that he was actually standing a bit straighter and taking long strides. It was then he knew… with utter incredulity in his mind… that he wanted the Akron woman and was going to do his goddamnedest to get her… for keeps… no matter what the cost. Then he said, aloud, “Tod Shelton, you are the stupidest shit alive.”
Five hours later, he was en route to Santa Barbara on the first leg of his assignment.