I had a lot of "lock trouble" after my first meeting with Luther, and I always relied on good old Triple A. My excuse was that being with Luther made the time that Red was gone seem bearable, and, somehow, surprisingly, it seemed to improve my relationship with Red. Now when he came home I wasn't moody and depressed. Even the men at work noticed that my spirits had picked up.
Despite the fact that my access to Luther had made Red's schedule bearable, I still hoped eventually things would be worked out so that Red and I could live like other people, with regular hours and a family of our own. My relationship with Luther was merely for sex. Whenever I would start to feel restless I would call up Triple A and ask for him. He would tell his boss it was a call about a lock and be on his way over. When he got to my apartment we never said much; in fact, we'd never gotten around to even having that cup of coffee. He would step in the door, say hello, and almost immediately take off his pants, revealing that enormous black cock. Usually he didn't even bother to undress me, just throwing up my skirt and sucking and fucking as if he couldn't wait, or 000be was in a hurry. I took to not wearing any panties when I knew he was coming so he could fuck me easier, and because I couldn't afford to keep buying new pairs when he ripped them off.
Then, one day I decided I wasn't going to make any more calls to Triple A. Leading a normal life was still my main objective, and seeing Luther was just lulling me into inaction that prevented me from getting what I really wanted. Finally, one day I saw a way to move toward the kind of life that was my goal, a life with Red home to be a father to the children we were going to have. I made this decision in the aftermath of Red's having been home for twenty-four hours and then leaving again for another run. When he had first come home I had walked into the apartment from work to find him sitting at the table just finishing a letter. He was sealing the envelope when I opened the door. He had stuck it in his coat pocket, saying, "I dashed off a note to Mom. Remind me to send it."
The next day when he was gone again, I remembered the letter still in his coat pocket in the closet. I went over and took it out, noticing its Oregon address. What was his mother like? I wondered. I wished I could meet her, that she could know Red and I were married. His family was really my family, too.
I decided on the spur of the moment to write to his mother. ii felt that if I told her how much I loved her son, a dialogue would be started that would surely lead to her acceptance of our marriage and an understanding between everyone involved so that we could be the one big happy family I was sure we were intended to be. I wouldn't come right out and tell her we were married in the first letter; I just wanted her to know how much Red and I cared for each other.
When I was finished, I dropped both my letter and Red's original one into the mail box on the corner, certain I had done the right thing. I was sure Red wouldn't mind.
I never found out how Red reacted to it, because four days later, on a Sunday afternoon while Red was off on a run, I received a personal response to my letter from a pretty, brown-haired, magnificently pregnant young woman.
"Did you send this letter?" she asked nervously when I opened the door, holding it up in front of me with a trembling hand.
I nodded, bewildered. I recognized my handwriting. It was the letter I'd sent, all right, but I had sent it to Red's mother.
"May I come in?" she asked quietly. "I received this letter from you Friday. I'm Mrs. Red Mason."
"Mrs. Red Mason?" I repeated incredulously, suddenly feeling sick.
"May I come in?" She sounded as sick as I felt.
"Yes… yes… of course," I stammered. "You're married to Red?"
She nodded.
I sank into a chair, feeling it was the end of the world. "I didn't know!" I wailed. "He said it was his mother and brother and sister. I thought I was writing to his mother."
"You're in love with him, that's clear from your letter," she said, anguished and hurt. "Are you having an affair?"
"We were married six months ago," I said in a daze.
The color drained out of her face; she gripped the arm of her chair. "No!" she whispered. "Oh, no!"
We just sat looking at each other, we two who had loved and married the same man. No wonder Red had fought marriage! All he'd wanted was the comforts of married life at this end of his run. He'd wanted that enough to become a bigamist. I had been used, and I was enraged, as well as hurt.
"He deceived us both!" I said angrily to his wife. "What are we going to do?" she asked in an unhappy monotone.
"What are you going to do?" I countered.
She took a deep breath. "Nothing," she said quietly. "He's my husband, the father of my children. I love him. Maybe he isn't worthy of my love, but that doesn't change how I feel. You're not the first other woman in his life. But he didn't marry the others."
"You mean you'll stay married to him?" I could hardly believe what she was saying. She looked down at her hands. "I'll stay married to Mm."
"Well, I wouldn't," I said firmly.
One of her hands touched her swollen abdomen. "What will you do?" she asked anxiously. "If you prosecute, he could go to jail. I need him, and our children need him,"
"I don't know what has to be done to dissolve the marriage," I told her dully. "I'll have to see a lawyer. I don't want revenge. I just want to get out of this and forget Red."
"I'm Sorry," she said after a long, uncomfortable silence. "I'm sorry you've been hurt. It was rotten of Red."
It was rotten of him, all right, but it wasn't her fault. I pitied her, though, for still loving him.
She stayed a few minutes longer, repeating her regrets and telling me to have the lawyer contact Red for the legal fees. After she left, I sat down, with only ashes of my dreams for comfort, too bitter and numb to feel any pain. After a moment, I got up and walked over to the phone and dialed Triple A.
I quit my job the next morning and moved to another apartment without leaving a forwarding address so I wouldn't run the chance of having any further contact with Red. I never wanted to see him again. The day after that, I saw an attorney and told him the entire story. All I wanted was out, and I told him so. I guess it was an old story to him. He assured me he'd secure an annulment, and neither Red nor I would need to be present. It would simply go through by default.
Several weeks later, it did. When I received the notice, I stared at it. I'd been married, and the marriage had ended without anyone knowing it had taken place. Finally I buried the legal document in a drawer and covered it up. I would have to forget Red, and my marriage to him.
I had visions of finding a completely different kind of job, perhaps working for a dress designer or something. However, after a few days of job. hunting, I was quickly yanked back down to earth. Because my only work experience was making out bills of lading at a warehouse, and because I was obviously too young-even if I lied about my age-to have had extensive work experience, I had to rely on what I already knew how to do to get another job. So I wound up working in another warehouse with exactly the same kind of job, and once again it was in an all-male situation.
And then one day things improved. Late one afternoon I was working like mad, trying to catch up with a lot of work that had accumulated when a number of deliveries had been made at once. It was always like this just before the weekend. My boss, a sixty-year-old gray-haired man named Mr. Fields, came over to my desk and asked me how I was doing.
"Well, I'm doing the best I can, Mr. Fields," I answered, "but I don't know if I'm going to be able to finish all of this by five o'clock. There's an awful lot of work here."
"I know," he said understandingly. "I'll bet you could use some help."
"I sure could," I said, "but until I get some, if you'll excuse me, I've got to get back to work or I'll never finish."
"I'll tell you what," he said. "You've really worked hard for us, and I think we're going to reward you by getting yaw some help. How would you like an assistant?"
"I'd love it," I said looking up in surprise from the stack of papers on my desk.
"Good," he smiled, "we'll start looking for a girl next Monday."
When I went home that evening I felt better than I had in some time.
The girl they eventually hired was named Katrina Farrow. She was older than I was by about ten years, somewhere in her late twenties. She was thin, tall, wiry, and dark, with short black hair. She was attractive in a kind of no-nonsense way and seemed to exude efficiency.
We seemed to hit it off right away. She quickly revealed to me that she had quit her last job because she hadn't gotten along with her supervisor, a man, and took this one because they told her she would be working with a woman. It turned out that Katrina lived alone, too. "I was married once," she confided in me. "I've had it with that whole scene. I don't need men."
"How can you be so sure?" I said.
"Listen, when you get to be my age you'll realize that all men are out for themselves and they only use women.
Based on my experiences so far I certainly had to agree with that, but I had faith that she was wrong in the long run. Still, it was stimulating to talk with someone the way I talked to her, and I enjoyed our friendship which soon blossomed. After we had worked together for a couple of weeks Katrina invited me to spend the weekend with her in the mountains, and I quickly agreed. "I have an uncle who has a cabin in the mountains," she explained. "It's only about fifty miles from here, beautiful country, and I'm sure you'll love it."
The drive up to her uncle's cabin was peaceful and refreshing as we left the smoggy city and started the ascent through the clear air up into the mountains. It seemed like forever since I'd escaped from the rat race of the city. On the way we stopped at a tiny country store and bought some food for our weekend-steaks, wine, fresh fruit, cheese. It was quite a contrast to the TV dinners, hamburgers, and Kentucky Fried Chicken I'd been used to living on.
After we got to the cabin and had eaten, we sat beside the roaring fire in the fireplace, and I had never been more content. I was relaxing when Katrina asked, "Would you like a smoke?"
"Thank you," I said, "but you know I don't smoke, Katrina."
"Not that, kind," she said. "I mean I've got some great grass and I thought maybe you'd like to try some."
I'd never tried marijuana, and ordinarily would have been shocked by her offer. However, I felt so loose and relaxed that I was definitely in an anything-goes type of mood. "Why not?" I responded.
"Groovy," she said as she took a foil pouch and some cigarette papers out of her purse. She quickly came up with an expertly made cigarette. "I'll go first," she said, lighting it. She took a large drag and inhaled deeply, holding the smoke inside her as long as she could. "See how it's done?" she said after she finally released the smoke, filling the room with a sweet scent.
I nodded my head. When she reached over and handed me the cigarette, I took it without hesitation and inhaled, holding the smoke in my lungs as I had seen her do.
We continued to pass the joint back and forth, and when it was just a butt and I was having trouble holding it, I started to put it out in the ashtray. "No, don't do that," said Katrina. "The roach is the best part. Let me have it."
I shrugged and handed it over to her.
She had taken what looked like a pair of tweezers out of her purse and used them to hold what she called the roach as she dragged deeply on it. "This stuff is expensive," she said, "can't waste it."
"Gee," I said, "I feel thirsty. I think I'll go out to the kitchen and get a drink of water." As I got to my feet and started to walk across the room I lost my balance and stumbled forward. I felt giddy. When I stumbled again, Katrina laughed.
"Why are you laughing?" I asked.
"Because you're stoned."
"Is that what it's like," I said, "not being able to walk straight?"
"Just relax and enjoy it," she said. "That's what it's all about. If you're thirsty let me pour some more wine for you. Grass makes you thirsty and there's nothing better to quench it than a little vino."
As I plopped back down into my chair I was acutely aware of sinking into the cushion, almost as though I were in a slow-motion movie and watching myself.
"Oh, what a feeling," I had to admit, "what a feeling." I lay back in my chair and closed my eyes and watched a rainbow of colon swirl before me. As I relaxed with my eyes closed, I could hear Katrina say, "Whew, it's hot in here. That fire's getting to be more than I bargained for. Don't you think it's hot in here?"
"Yes, now that you mention it," I said, "it is. Should we open a window?"
"No," she said, "it's too cold outside for that."
"What should we do?"
"I'll tell you what let's do. If we took off our clothes," she suggested, "it would be just right. Not too cold and not too hot."
In my stoned condition that seemed like a good idea and I quickly agreed to it. We both stood up and shucked off our outer clothing. I stood there in my bra and panties thinking that Katrina was right, that it was more comfortable with less clothes on.
Then I noticed that Katrina had stripped all the way and was completely naked. She had a trim, athletic-looking body with small firm tits and a triangle of pitch-black cunt hair beneath her flat, firm stomach.
"Come on," she said, "why don't you take them all off, there's nothing to be afraid of."
"Okay," I agreed, not being able to think of any reason why I shouldn't. I unhooked my bra and let it fall to the floor, and stepped out of my panties. I felt free and loose.
"Come on, let's sit down on the rug in front of the fire," she beckoned.
We sat in front of the fire, side by side. The heat swooped up between my legs and sent a funny sensation through my body. I looked over at Katrina and saw that she was staring at me. "Is something wrong?" I asked.
"Nothing, nothing at all," she said quietly. "In fact, everything's just perfect." Then she moved toward me on her knees and embraced me, kissing me on the lips, our tits squeezing together, the nipples touching and rubbing each other. As her tongue flicked inside of my mouth, I suddenly felt a wet warm rush between my legs and pressed back against Katrina. I could feel Katrina's hand now stroking one of my tilt It felt so good the only thing I could think of to do was return the favor and begin fondling her tits.
Finally the kiss ended and Katrina whispered into my ear, "Lie back on the rug." As with everything else during the evening, I saw no reason not to and flopped onto my back.
"Now," whispered Katrina, "I'm going to show you why men are unnecessary. I'm going to teach you a way for a woman to drown another woman in joy. Spread your thighs."
"Mmmmm," I murmured as I did as she asked, placing my now sopping cunt in complete view.
"Your pussy is charming," Katrina murmured as she lowered her head between my open thighs and began smothering my cuntlips and clitoris with kisses, adding to the hot wetness that had taken over between my legs.
"Oooooh," she said gutturally, "how I adore your soft pussy." She placed her hand on my cunt and gently spread the lips apart with her fingers. "I can see your clit better now. It's so pink and so hard. I'm going to suck it."
Katrina's mouth enclosed my clitoris, sucking it voraciously. The sensation engulfed my: whole body, which was beginning to vibrate in ecstasy. Never had anything felt so good as the room swirled around me while Katrina continued to eat my cunt.
"Oh, God," I moaned, "that's wonderful."
"Now eat me while I eat you," suggested Katrina. She quickly shifted around so that she was straddled on top of me wit her back to me, her head buried in my crotch licking and sucking my pussy, and her sopping, pungent, hairy cunt staring me in the eye. It dripped with moisture and seemed to be breathing, its glistening pink folds framed by unruly black hair. I thought it was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen in my life.
Quickly I put my hands on Katrina's hips and moved her just so until she was sitting directly on my face, the spreading lips of her cunt placed directly on the lips of my mouth. I shot my probing tongue up her pussy, working it around in a furious arc, tasting her sweet juices all the while. So this is what cunt tastes like, I thought dreamily as I worked my tongue harder and harder, stretching the muscle to its full capacity.
"Feel my tits," I heard her say, and I immediately lifted my hands from her hips and placed them over her tits, gently pinching and rubbing her erect nipples while both of our tongues simultaneously explored the depths of each other's gushing cunts.
The pleasure was more than I could bear. My body began to writhe uncontrollably under the influence of Katrina's expert sucking and licking and tongue-kicking. I knew I was going to come and come hard. A blinding shudder shot through me, and force of habit caused me to anticipate a rush of jism inside me to accompany my orgasm. But, instead, Katrina just redoubled her sucking and began rubbing my asshole, sticking a tender finger up it, and instead of coming down after my orgasm, her efforts seemed to take me to new heights.
She seemed to be reading my mind as she briefly raised her mouth from my throbbing cunt and said, "When you're with a man you have to stop just when it's getting good. With another woman you can go on forever."
A few moments after she'd spoken I could feel Katrina's body stiffen on top of me. "Suck, suck harder!" she suddenly cried, and as I accelerated my efforts, sending my entire tongue up her cunt and rubbing my teeth against her clit, she came in a profound shudder, drenching my face with gooey wetness.
Then she got off me. With me still lying on the rug, Katrina slipped down between my thighs, facing toward me in the same position that a man would use to fuck me. Instantly I could feel the scalding wetness of her spongy cunt pressing against mine, which was in an identical condition. She began to rub her crotch hotly against mine, our cuntlips and clits intermingled as one, mixing our oozing discharges, creating a mutual friction that felt as exciting to me as any cock that had ever fucked me. Our hands reached out to each other's tits and we stimulated our nipples while our cunts ground into one another.
"Wrap your legs around me!" she cried. My ankles locked around her shoulders as we pumped at each other even more furiously. The feeling was so intense that I felt as though my clitoris were actually penetrating her.
Already on an orgasmic plane, after a couple of minutes of trading and sharing pelvic thrusts I suddenly felt as if I had been elevated to the ceiling, and from there launched into outer space. I felt like I was discharging quarts of pussy juice and being drenched by similar amounts of the scalding contents of Katrina's cunt.
"My God!" I screamed. "I'm in orbit!"
"Welcome aboard," she said as our bodies locked even tighter so that we seemed welded together in our journey into sexual infinity.
Later, as we lay in bed together, Katrina gently stroked my tits while I placed a hand in her warm, moist cunt. It was one of the most tender moments I had ever shared with anyone.
"I love you," whispered Katrina.
I didn't even have to think about my reply. "I love you, too," I answered as she pressed her thighs together and warmly squeezed my hand.