The buzzer rang in Robard's apartment. At first it had seemed to be ringing in a dream he was having, until he rolled over in bed and realized it was his front door.
He threw a leg over the edge of the bed, struggling to pull himself out of the first two hours of deep sleep. The bell was ringing incessantly. The urgency of it helped him to find something to wrap around his naked body and make it to the door.
"Yeah, who is it?" he yelled blandly at the door as he staggered into the entry and approached the door.
"It's me, Rob. I'm awfully sorry…" said a female voice. At first he couldn't figure out who it was, then it came in a flash. It was Ryan.
"Is that you, Ryan?" he said sleepily through the door.
"Yes, it's me. Can you…" Robard interrupted her by suddenly opening the door.
"Hi, baby. You're the last person I expected to see at my doorstep at two a.m."
"You're not the only one," said Ryan wearily as she came in and Robard locked the door behind her. He was suddenly wide awake. This was no unpleasant surprise, but it was a surprise. He didn't know quite what to do or say at first. Ryan had never called on him at that hour. In fact, few people did.
Robard was a bachelor with a set pattern. He liked getting up early, liked daylight, and as soon as the sun went down his mind aimed towards sleep. Despite the unexpected lovemaking with Ryan that afternoon, his schedule had not changed much. Friends knew his habits. Robard never had to answer doors or telephones after ten p.m.
"I know this is a crazy inconvenience on my part, Rob. And…" Ryan stood awkwardly between the hall and the living room, not quite sure of which way to move or what to say next.
"Don't be silly. You wouldn't be here if it wasn't important." Rob smiled and came up beside her. He laid his hand on her shoulder and kissed her neck. "Let me put on a light so we can see each other."
The feel of the man's hand on her shoulder had sent a wave of calm through her body. Her physical reaction to Robard was a surprise. She had never felt calmed or reassured by a man before. It had always been Dex. Now, with that in a thousand pieces, Ryan felt marvelously reassured that someone else could work that same magic on her. She breathed deeply and smiled for the first time that evening.
When his hand slipped off her shoulder and Robard went off to put on a light, she felt lost.
"There we are. Sit down, Ry. You look beautiful, even at two in the morning. Sorry I can't say the same for myself. Forgive the towel costume. I'm a sleep-in-the-raw buff myself." Robard grinned, trying to relieve the tension he felt pouring out of Ryan.
"You're the best-looking man in a towel I've ever seen," replied Ryan, laughing. She went over and flopped down on the sofa. Robard sat down opposite her. He was careful to keep the towel down between his legs so that Ryan wouldn't get the idea he was flaunting his sex in her face. He understood that Ryan was here for talk, serious talk. And something inside him respected that.
"Things not working out?" he asked, deciding to bring the problem out immediately.
"Catastrophe," muttered Ryan. Her face clouded over. She appreciated Robard's directness, but it hurt. She would rather have kidded with him for a while before hitting the source of her pain. But, she thought, this was no hour for social pleasantries.
"I suppose it's Dex. Did she throw you out or something? I hope it didn't have anything to do with me."
"Rob, I wish it were that simple. I think… I think it's finished between us. Really. Kaput." Ryan found herself examining her hands as she spoke. It was as if she expected to see a trace of the violence that had gone on that evening. If only there were blood marks to bear witness to the murder that had occurred. The killing of their relationship had been as brutal and real as anything in a tabloid.
"You two have been through this kind of thing before. You always managed to kiss and make up," Robard said soothingly.
"That's because it was always me. Me playing around. Now it's more complicated than that. I told you a little this afternoon. I didn't think it was that serious then. Now… well, I think it's fatal." Ryan folded her hands in her lap in a gesture of finality.
"Well, you're certainly expressing the whole thing with high drama. Maybe if we cut away some of that theater, we'll see it's not that serious."
"I know what you're thinking, Rob. Dykes. A lot of melodrama that will disappear in the morning. Well, this time, no. I've just come from them. I've seen the girl. They're together now."
Robard smiled weakly. He did not know how to handle this. Usually when his own emotional life got tangled he would make a joke of it and go to bed. He knew he couldn't suggest the same thing to Ryan. She was totally serious about what was happening. Her look of tragedy was not staged.
"I see," he replied with a sigh. "Well, maybe it's all for the best. I know that's a cliche. It might even sound unfeeling, but you know I feel. What I'm getting at, Ry, is that if it's happened, it's happened. There's not much you can do about it."
Ryan shook her head violently and said, "Rob, I can't take it. I can't cope. It's not that easy. I wouldn't get you out of bed if it were." Despite himself, Robard found his body stretching and yawning. It wasn't used to this kind of treatment. The thought flashed through his mind as he felt his body moving that she wasn't even noticing him. The physical thing that had brought them passionately together that afternoon seemed gone. Something, probably his male vanity, told him that if that interest could be rekindled, they could both get some sleep. Together.
Risking a move on intuition, Robard said, "Let's go to bed, Ry. I can't think of a better way to cope." Ryan blinked. It was so direct, his proposal, that it almost knocked the wind out of her. Sex was the last thing on her mind. Sex with a man that much further. His words hit her like a cold slap on the face. A wave of hostility surged up suddenly in her. Men, all they wanted was a cunt to fuck.
As if reading her mind, Robard added, "Think about it. Don't put the idea down until you've tried it on for size." He stared intently at her, half praying his calm and his words would work on her. Sure he wanted sex with her. What man wouldn't want a beautiful actress in bed with him any hour of the day or night. But it was more than that. He knew that in bed he could give her peace, and perhaps even the answer she was looking for. Sitting there in the living room, rehashing the past and sinking deeper into fatalism and depression, was no answer.
He felt like getting up immediately and sitting down beside her on the sofa. He'd hold her in his arms, show her what he meant.
But something inside him again told him that that would not be the right approach. Ryan was not just a lesbian, but a special kind of woman. The best thing was to give her room to breathe and consider, give her space.
Ryan was ready to blurt out bitter reproach, but she was listening to him. He had asked her to consider. Now she was doing just that. His gray eyes rested calmly on her, giving her time and providing the needed support for that time. Robard was no stereotype of a man. She felt guilty for even accusing him of it in her mind.
"Okay," she said with the sureness of a split second decision.
Robard grinned back at her, uttering a sigh of relief.
"Tremendous. Let's go to bed," he said jumping up from the chair and moving toward the sofa. Ryan rose to meet him. She stretched out her hand and he took it, kissing her wrist, nuzzling it comfortingly. Then he put his arms around her shoulders and pulled her to him.
The merest touch of her cool flesh sent his cock pounding, lifting the towel up in the air, jutting against her belly. He felt her catch her breath as she felt the insistency of his penis.
He looked down between them and smiled back up at her.
"It has a will of its own. But I can handle it. You do what you want. If bed means just sleeping with someone's arm around you, I can get into that."
Ryan wrapped her arms around his shoulders, squeezing him close to her. She did not know what she felt or what she wanted. But the closeness of his body the wideness of his powerful shoulders, were compelling. They were something to hold on to which was not going to vanish in her arms. He was solid.
"Let's just see what happens." The bobbing insistence of his cock made her blush slightly. There was no subtlety in a man's sex urge. She had always held that against them before. But now its directness was appealing. She at least knew where she stood.
"You don't mind?" he continued. She grinned back.
"You want me to get down on my knees and blow you to prove it?" she replied quickly. Robard stepped back slightly. He wasn't sure whether she was angry, resentful, or just trying to be funny.
"You're pretty graphic tonight, Ry."
"I'm sick of pussy-footing women. Sick enough of it to vomit. I mean that, Rob. There's something about a man's cock that doesn't play games," she added wryly.
"That's one way of looking at it." The strength of her tone had wrought a change, however. Her vulnerability had lessened. And his cock was drooping as a result.
Boldly, Ryan reached down and grabbed his penis under the towel. Her hand seemed to be examining it at first, almost clinically, but soon the touch turned to a caress. As her long fingers stroked its length, Rob's cock responded with an even more violent erection. The feel of her hand pumping his cock, grazing the heavy sack of his balls, knocked the wind out of him.
Robard took her finely chiseled head in both hands and stared at her. She met his gaze firmly.
"You're quite a woman," was all he could think to mutter. He brought their mouths close to each other. Ryan's eyelids fluttered shut and her lips moved to touch his. The next second found their tongues entwined, toying with each other, voraciously searching and sucking. Unlike this afternoon, she was holding nothing back. He felt the full brunt of her passion centered on him. The heat of it made something snap inside him. The calm, civilized man in him broke down. He wanted her anyway he could. He would throw her down on the rug and fuck her. He wanted her mouth devouring his prick. Then he wanted to plunge it into her cunt. The violence of it was rape.
Slowly, she eased off. The force of her tongue and mouth lessened. Robard found himself regaining control. His rough grip of her head relaxed. He stroked her hair, wondering at its long silkiness. He began responding to her breathing, the pounding of her heart against him.
Their lips closed on each other in a tenderer version of a kiss.
"Wow," he said, coming up for air. He couldn't think of anything else to say. He tried to think and couldn't.
"Let's go to bed," she said. Her voice was now rich and sure. He let his hands slip down her back and rest on the outward curve of her shapely ass. What was going on in that beautiful head of hers? He wondered. He felt as if he were now the object of every kind of sexual energy she had in her. The girl he had seduced and possessed that afternoon was gone. He was now dealing with a woman who wanted something and was out to get it. If only he knew what it really was she was after.
He felt her fingers moving up and down his naked back. Finally, like his own, they came to rest on his hard ass. Her mouth moved in towards his. She kissed him gently.
"I thought you wanted to go to bed," he said, softly, nuzzling her soft cheek.
"Maybe not just yet," she replied. He tensed for a second.
"You change your mind?"
Ryan didn't bother to reply. She bent her body slightly and began moving her lips over his bristly chin and down his thick neck. She tasted his flesh, the male odor of it, its saltiness. The aggressive urge in her was transforming everything. A man was her prey. She appreciated his body as she had only done to a woman.
Her lips reached a nipple on his broad, hairy chest. The light odor of sweat invaded her nostrils from the closeness of his armpit. Even that smell excited her, where once she had been revolted. She licked his nipple as she would have another woman. She wondered vaguely how he would react. Would it excite him? She didn't really care now, because she wanted it. What she wanted was all that counted at this moment in time.
Robard began to murmur something, then the sound in this throat changed to a soft groan of pleasure as her teeth grazed the point of flesh and her lips sucked it. Something inside him realized instinctively that she was making love to him in her most private, intense way. His cock began pounding against her lower belly. The pleasure of her mouth on him made him feel his body in a way he never had before.
"You're making me into a sex object," he whispered, trying to make it into a joke.
"I like that. Don't you?" she replied, straightening up suddenly and confronting him. He turned his head slightly so he wouldn't have to meet her interrogation.
He couldn't lie. "Yes," he whispered, grinding his cock against her. "Yes, I do."
Ryan suddenly pulled back. She wanted to look at him in the dim light of the living room. Her hands caressed his chest muscles. His flesh was hot and beginning to sweat under the soft mat of hair. His cock bobbed against the towel to remind her of its presence. Her eyes dropped to it immediately. She knew now what she wanted.
She knelt down abruptly on the rug, pulling the towel off him and tossing it on the floor. His large prick jerked up free from the jungle of pubic hair at his crotch. She sniffed the sweet odor of the precum dribbling out of its tip.
Before he knew quite what was happening, Robard felt her soft lips enclose the head of his shaft. His balls pulled up violently. He was more excited than he had ever known before. He wondered if he was going to suddenly shoot into her mouth without any preliminaries.
"You want to take it?" he asked hoarsely. She replied by sucking down his rod until her nose buried itself in his crotch. She could feel the muscles of her throat gulp and contract on his thick meat. Slowly at first, then picking up speed, she began sucking up and down the full length of his prick. The hotness of her mouth, the softness of the flesh inside it, and the play of her tongue were too much for him. He was going to shoot into her throat with the quick eagerness of an adolescent. His body was out of control. He had to warn her.
"Ry, I'm going to…" He couldn't complete the sentence. He felt his balls pull up tight to his flexing rod. She brushed them with the tips of her fingers. It was needless coaxing. In the next second, sperm exploded from his balls and shot up his shaft. His prick jerked violently in her gulping throat as it sent its first creamy load splattering against the back of her mouth.
Ryan moaned softly as she swallowed Robard's cum. Her face was flushed. All she could concentrate on was the spasm of his penis, the hot jet of sperm, tasting it briefly, and then gulping it down greedily. She wanted his seed badly, and she didn't know why. It was irrational, animal. She wanted to eat a man. Have a man in her belly.
As he shot his last load into her mouth, Robard doubled over. His hand went down to her head. He ran his fingers through her hair. His cock jerked again, renewed by the silky feeling running through his fingers. He felt his balls totally drained. They would ache tomorrow. They always did when he came violently like this.
His cock began softening, but still Ryan did not want to take the male thing from her mouth. She was afraid of uncoupling, afraid of the separation. She did not want to face what she had done or think about it. She wanted it to continue on.
"Ryan?" he said quietly, but with a plaintive tone. She released his cock, letting the bulbous head slip out from between her lips. She stared at his hairy thighs. Her hands went out to them, stroking the sides, then running up to his small tight ass. It was covered in fine sweat like the rest of his body. She held both muscular cheeks cupped in her hand. The lack of softness in his body excited her. It was what she needed now.
She rose up unsteadily to her feet. A silly grin played along the ribbon of her lips as she finally looked him in the eye.
"I just ate you up," she said. Her voice was like a little girl's.
Robard leaned forward and kissed her softly on the cheek.
"Let's hit the sack," he said.
Dex thought of going home, but the last thing on earth that she wanted to do was run into Ryan. There was no telling what kind of a scene Ryan might put on. Dex knew that she could not sit there and watch Ryan tearfully packing.
And she didn't much feel like seeing either Madge or Robard, either. Both of them would be sympathetic, of course, but neither could really understand. Then, too, she always felt that Robard, for one, was always on Ryan's side, even if he never said as much. She wondered if Ryan and Robard had ever really made love together. Sure, she had accused Ryan of it many times. That very evening she had again told Ryan to go off to Robard for comfort. But she didn't really believe it. Ryan was a woman's woman. That seemed sure enough.
No, there was nobody she could call on. Besides, it was late. Everybody had Monday obligations.
She, herself, should go someplace where it would be possible to catch a few hours of sleep, undisturbed. The thought made Dex laugh with futility. Sleep. Her body felt geared into high. Ready to leap and run. Vibrating with excess energy, she felt like the doomed brigade. Life seemed to be closing in on all sides.
When Dex looked up, she saw that she had circled Gena's neighborhood. Now she stood across the street from Gena's house and realized that her legs had been unwilling to carry her away. She might be willing to let go of Ryan but with Gena she was not yet ready to admit defeat. There was too much of herself at stake to give up so easily.
Resolutely, Dex crossed, not knowing what she would say to Gena when she confronted her again. Dex knew only that she intended to spend the night with the girl. Sleep in Gena's bed. Mak either own.
When Dex tried the door to Gena's apartment, it was open. She faced the girl abruptly.
Gena was sitting on the living room couch, both legs up over the arms, talking on the phone. She held the receiver cradled between shoulder and chin. Her lips curved in the old, devilish smile. Rapidly, she was filing the nails of her right hand and blowing on them as though to make sure that the polish had dried.
She stopped in the middle of a sentence as Dex came in.
Dex didn't have to be told what she was interrupting.
Gena said into the phone, "All right, I'll be there in a few minutes," her voice was hurried but soft.
She dropped the receiver into the cradle. Then she turned her head to face Dex. Gena's bright smile did not match the soft voice she'd been using.
"Well, you're back fast," Gena said, and the voice was bright again.
Too bright, Dex thought. And much too impersonally good-natured. Obviously, Gena was being distracted by something or someone else.
"I've come to stay," Dex said.
She walked to the sofa and flopped down on the cushion farthest from Gena. Stretching out her legs, she wanted to convince herself that it was possible to relax in Gena's company. But her body felt like coiled steel.
"That's nice," Gena said neutrally. She swung her legs from the couch arm and got up.
Dex watched Gena saunter toward the tiny bathroom. Gena closed the door between them. The sound of water running into the sink reached Dex's ears.
When the door opened again, Gena looked freshly combed. It was three in the morning, but she seemed ready for a tea party.
Dex didn't feel that Gena had fixed her appearance for the sake of their blossoming romance.
"Don't you ever sleep?" Dex said.
"I'm a night pussycat." She went to a closet and took out a cotton jacket.
The jacket was a stylized version of the one she had seen on Morton. A woman's safari type. It fit Gena neatly. As she pulled in the wide belt, her tiny waistline became emphasized. The firm ass jutted proudly and the muscle line of her thighs showed through the narrow cut of her slacks.
"You can't be going anywhere at this hour," Dex said, wanting Gena to admit the truth.
"No. No place important, anyway. You go to sleep, Dex. I'll be home in a little while."
Dex swallowed as she felt the anger beginning to rise. If only there were a way to trap Gena. But Gena's personality was like a mist. Dex could be blinded by it but she could find nothing solid to grab hold of and deal with effectively.
"Maybe I ought to go with you," Dex offered.
"Oh, don't bother. I'm used to getting around by myself, you know."
Gena did not hide her defiance. She dropped her small leather wallet into one of the jacket pockets and headed for the door.
Dex reacted without thinking. She sprang from the couch and put herself between Gena and the door to block Gena's exit.
"I don't think you ought to go anywhere," Dex said, her voice breathless. "Stay here with me. It's our first night together. We shouldn't have any interference, should we?"
Gena turned slightly away from Dex. "Well, I'm only going for some milk, anyway. You can't call that much of an interference." She laughed softly but uncomfortably.
Dex felt her cheeks burn. She wondered how Gena could lie so easily, so completely and without shame.
"How come you expect me to believe something so stupid as that," Dex said, her voice low and poised.
Gena raised her shoulders and held them there, awkwardly. "You started this," she said.
"You're not going to start twisting my words around, either," Dex said, anticipating Gena's method of fighting. "Either I go with you. Or you don't go out," Dex said flatly.
Gena pushed out her lower jaw. The impishness left her face. In its place came determination.
"I never asked you to come up here. I never even gave you my address. Why are you bothering me?"
Frustration shattered Dex's thinking. She picked Gena up and carried her back to the couch. The girl's feet kicked into Dex's thighs and knees but she felt no pain, felt nothing but the numb insistence throughout her being that Gena not make a fool of her tonight… or ever again.
Dex flung her down and watched Gena bounce.
"I know you want Morton," Dex rasped. "That's where you're off to, isn't it."
"So what if I am. You can't tell me what to do I don't know you."
"You know me plenty," Dex forced Gena back down as she began to lift up from the couch. "You just watch yourself, missy. I'm not in a mood for your kind of lying shenanigans."
"You get out of here." Gena's voice was shrill.
Dex's, hand went back. It arced forward. She heard the sharp slap and felt it stinging across her palm. Gena snapped backward, her face drained of color and the nostrils flared. She did not look frightened. Her anger was like the rise of volcanic lava that finally bubbles up and over the top. She snapped her mouth, and the front teeth came down on Dex's fingers.
Dex flung herself on top of the girl and pinned her fast. She drove her knee up and concentrated on that sensation till Gena relaxed the grip of her jaws.
Gena fell back panting. She shut her eyes. The swallowing movement in her throat was like convulsions, and she turned her face into the back loose cushions, to bury her nose and mouth there. Dex heard the sobs that tore through Gena's body. They were sounds of despair. Of defeat. Dex let go of her and leaned over. She put her lips to Gena's hot cheek.
"Can't you see?" Dex said. "Morton didn't do you any good. None at all or you'd be with her. But you and I… maybe we have a chance. We're a lot alike, darling. You're young and you want to live. I've been buried in a back room someplace for too many years. And now I want to live, too."
Gena stuck an arm out and tried to push Dex away.
Dex sighed. She could not tell what Gena's motives were. Was she being stubborn out of a sense of humiliation? Did she have to conquer Morton before she gave her up?
"Why don't you talk to me?" Dex said. "If you don't tell me what's on your mind, I won't know what to do."
She waited until the sobbing subsided. When she felt sure that Gena would stay put and not bolt for the door, Dex went to the bathroom. She found a washcloth, wet it in cold water and brought it back.
Gena took the cloth and put it to her eyes. Then she wiped her face and forehead, gradually coming back to a quieter balance. After a few minutes, she sat up, her eyelids red and swollen and staring with concentrated thought at the design of the worn carpet.
"You'll never know," she said simply.
Dex felt herself beginning to relax. "Try me."
"Morton is waiting for me right now. I promised to go there. She'll never believe that you nailed me to the wall."
"You make it sound as though I crucified you."
"You did."
Gena sounded glum. The despair was thick and forever. There was no arguing her emotion. No trying to cajole her out of it with reason.
At the same time, what was the sense in preventing Gena from going to Morton, since she believed that having Morton was having the pinnacle of love?
Dex struggled against a surge of humiliation that threatened to overturn her own good sense. Gena was too young to know that throwing herself at Morton was a waste.
"All right," Dex said. "You're going to spend your life thinking of me as the black pirate if I keep you from your lover girl. Go on. Go to Morton. I only hope she manages to make it worth your while."
Gena put her palm to her forehead. "And if I go, how are you going to embarrass me later? Shall I expect you to come barging in at us around sunup?"
"You don't understand me, Gena. I'm not going to make a single footstep in your direction. Not ever again. You're going to walk out of here and go to Morton. As far as I'm concerned, you're going to the devil… and I'll never expect you back."
Dex saw Gena examining her with surprise and disbelief.
"Okay," Dex said, standing up. "I'll be on my way now, and you do what you want."
Gena pursed her lips. "How can you change your mind back and forth so many times? First you come dashing in here like a madwoman. Then you fly out. Then you're back. Now you're leaving again."
Dex smiled despite herself at the accurate description.
"I know. I'm acting nuts, Gena, because I thought that we had a chance. But the minute you drag Morton in on everything, that's the end. I don't share anything I have with her."
"Why not?" Gena's face wrinkled with curiosity. "What've you got in particular against Morton?"
"Stay with her for a couple of years and you'll see. But just for openers, she's what is known as a human sewer. Everybody, and I mean everybody, has a go of it in her bed."
Unable to find words, Dex strode away from the couch and from Gena's essential innocence. No matter what Gena did, no matter how many lies she told or how insincerely she lived, Gena could never understand Morton until a number of years had piled the crud on good and thick. Dex swallowed her hopelessness. It was a crime for Gena to waste her life and spirit with Morton. She'd be out on the street again in a couple of weeks. But Morton would keep her on the string. Using her. Dragging her back and forth whenever there was a lull among her new lovers.
"Don't forget," Gena cut into Dex's thinking, "this isn't going to be my first time with her."
"I realize that," Dex answered softly. "And unfortunately, it isn't going to be your last time with her, either."
Gena got up and came over to where Dex was standing near a window.
"But can't you see?" Gena pleaded. "I just can't let Morton get the better of me."
Dex looked down at Gena's clear eyes. Suddenly she wondered why it was so important for the girl to convince her that she had good reason for going back to Morton tonight.
"You can't let her get the better of you," Dex repeated. "But can't you see that she already has?"