She had worked late at the shop this Tuesday, knowing that Tim had already taken the plane for New York. First of all, it had been one of those exciting days when a brand-new prospect had walked in and asked for a quotation on the remodeling of an old mansion in Wilmette. Arnold Cantwell, suave, tall, his dark-brown hair heavily tinged with premature gray, had walked in without warning about two this afternoon, asked to see Miss Rachel, and had then explained that, himself an architect, he had been referred to her by James Prentize, a fellow architect whose penthouse in the hi-rise building Prentize had designed for a noted real-estate developer had been decorated by Rachel herself some nine months ago.
Rachel had been both flattered and startled. Word-of-mouth referral was, to be sure, one of the best ways of getting lucrative new business in the interior decorating field. But what had startled her when Arnold Cantwell had been ushered into her private office by her golden-haired receptionist Dinah Williams had been his astonishing resemblance to her own husband. They were of the same height, and Arnold Cantwell's nose and eyes were very much like Tim's. His way of looking directly at her and his direct but soft-spoken way of talking were also very much like Tim's.
During the conversation, it developed that Arnold Cantwell shared the mansion with his elderly mother and spinster sister. There had been few changes in that Colonial type house since it had been built over fifty years ago, and the handsome bachelor architect observed that the idea of redecorating it was really therapeutic: the last year or two his mother and older sister had been extremely depressed because of the death of a favorite cousin.
Fortunately Rachel had been free of appointments this afternoon, and so she accepted Arnold Cantwell's invitation to drive her out to the, house to make an appraisal of what work would have to be done. On the way out there, sitting beside him at the wheel of his new Impala, she learned that he was thirty-two, widely traveled, and that his hobbies were chess and music. An idea began to glimmer in the back of her mind. Soon after her marriage, she had seen a chess set and board on the writing desk in Heather's room.
He had driven her back to the Michigan Avenue shop about five, then invited her to dinner at the London House to continue their talk about the necessary work and its possible cost. Rachel had welcomed this hospitality not only because it gave her a better understanding of her new client's likes and dislikes as regards decor, but also because she was really starved for intellectual conversation. Heaven knows there hadn't been very much of it at the Woodling house.
Arnold Cantwell drove her home about eight o'clock, walked her to the door of the old Gothic house and smilingly told her that she would have carte blanche in putting more gayety and color into his old house and that he hoped she could begin the work by the next week. She had made a date to be there the following Monday morning, shaken hands with him and thanked him for the dinner, and smilingly watched him drive off. Then, with a sigh of pleasure, she had let herself into the house…
She had just taken off her cloche hat and her suitcoat, and was beginning to unfasten her smart tweed skirt when her door suddenly opened and red-haired Heather stood smirking at her. Heather wore baby-blue silk pajamas and soft fluffy mules, and her mouth was freshly lipsticked. She advanced now, in a sort of swaggering way, glancing around Rachel's bedroom with a proprietary air. "You're back at last, Mummy. Did you have a good time with the guy in the Impala?"
Rachel flushed hotly. "He happens to be a new client, Heather, I'm doing over his 'house in Wilmette starting next week. It'll mean a good deal of money. Of course," deciding to return the young woman's sarcasm, "that will come in handy for me to live on in case I get kicked out at the end of the month."
"You're awfully sharp tonight, Mummy. I give you credit for guts, though. Are you sure you didn't go to a motel with him just now? If I thought you were cheating on Dad, it'd be just one more good reason to boot your fancy ass out of this house, you know." Her cat-green eyes were narrow and cruel, her lips curved in a rictus of mocking contempt.
"No, as a matter of fact I didn't, Heather. If you like, you can call the London House and I'm sure the hostess will verify the fact that we spent several hours there having dinner and talking over Mr. Cant-well's plans."
"It's really not important." Heather shrugged her lovely shoulders. "Fact is, I'd just as soon you weren't already fucked out. You see, Mummy, now that Dad's out of town, Timmy and I figured tonight would be as good a time as any for a little family get-together. Any objections?"
Rachel found herself shivering 'as Heather insolently swept her voluptuous body up and down with those cynical young eyes. But she managed to stiffen her shoulders and face the amoral young tormentress:
"I always keep my word. All right, then. Suppose you give me a few minutes to take a shower and change into something more suitable."
"You can have ten minutes, Mummy. I'll go call little brother."
"Just one more favor, if you please."
"Shoot!" Heather snickered, moving back into the hallway.
"I don't think you'll need the camera tonight. You see, I kept my word about not telling your father. Besides, one set of films ought to be quite enough if you have to resort to anything as low as that."
"Hey now, Mummy, don't you be getting up on your high horse and telling me and Timmy what we ought to do!" Heather angrily sneered. "Anyhow, I wasn't figuring on taking more movies. Timmy still has those dandy ones of the other time, and he's just dying to show them to some of his pals in case you lose your amateur status around her. Well, see you In ten minutes, Mummy. Have a good shower and soap yourself good between your long legs. Timmy might just want to go down on you.
She slammed the door shut, and Rachel clenched her fists and bowed her head, fighting the tears of humiliation and shame which burned her eyes.
Under the stinging spell of the shower, she tried to collect herself so that she could face this ordeal without flinching. And yet this time the prospect was certainly more hopeful than it had been that incredible Friday night during Tim's first New York trip. Because now at least she could cling to the knowledge that for the first time she and Tim had been able to enjoy each other in bed. He had been so grateful, so happy. And now all that remained was to heal the wounds of rancor and resentment in young Tim and Heather, and to direct those energies int6 different channels. Arnold Cantwell might well be part of the solution for Heather. And she thought she might equally be able to find some absorbing way to curb young Tim's ruthless arrogance.
Nevertheless, tonight was going to be a fearfully taxing ordeal because now she was going to yield to it. That other time, she might well be able to rationalize as having been the result of coercion and the surprising shock of discovering what her stepchildren had in store for her. This time, she was going to be expected to submit passively to the role of whore. And yet, hadn't Matt Varney treated her in his own selfish way to a similar kind of rough sex? His violent usage of her body without caring whether she herself had climax, his open insolence in making no secret of his affairs, even to bedding his paramours in their own house-wasn't that, in its own way, even more brutal than what Heather and young Tim proposed?
She had dried herself and dabbed a little perfume at the valley of her breasts, at her armpits and belly and the curly fleece of her pubis. She drew on the black nylon nightie that she had worn for Tim last Friday night, and smiled back at herself In the mirror. "Maybe you can even learn something tonight, Rachel Woodling," she told her image. "Maybe if you get to be as smart as that Eleanor, you'll be able to be a better wife and lover for your own husband. It's certainly worth a try, and that's the only way you can look at it right now. So get with it, girl."
Taking a deep breath, she moved back Into the bedroom, drew the covers, propped up two pillows at the headboard, and awaited her stepchildren…
Just before the door opened again, Rachel had quickly swallowed two of the little red secondal pills, remembering how she had been made to take the sleeping pills when they had invaded her bedroom that time before. But this time, she took the pills of her own accord to help quell the protests of that embattled conscience to which tonight she had resolved to pay not the slightest heed. Symbolically as well as physically, it would make her imminent ordeal easier.
Nevertheless, she could not help shivering and catching her breath when Heather and young Tim appeared, the latter wearing only his pajama pants and smirking at her, his blond hair tousled. Just outside Rachel's door, he had slyly tried to thrust his hands under the waistband of Heather's baby-blue pajamas, and she had whirled and slapped him, then put her palm against his head and shoved him back with a hissed "Save that for Mummy, you sneaky little bastard! And one more thing-when we're in bed with her, just don't get any fancy ideas about making it a twosome, hear me?"
"Your ten minutes are up, Mummy. Well, now, how very accommodating of you to be in bed all ready for us," the redhead tauntingly drawled as she advanced to the bed and quickly seated herself on the edge, studying the mature brunette with gloating anticipation. "This time, I'm going to go first just to warm you up a little, Rachel. Then Timmy will take over. Any objections?"
Rachel Woodling shook her head, but she could not halt the sudden furious blushes that suffused her olive-satiny cheeks, and before the boy's greedily lustful stare, she turned to look at Heather. "You-you won't have to use force. Just give me time to understand what you want of me."
"Now that's being smart, Mummy," Heather jeered. "But let's hope you get just as worked up this way as when we had to practically rape you. Boy, did you wiggle and melt down then! Timmy expects a little cooperation, he's still a beginner, you know."
"Oh, shut up, Heather!" young Tim hoarsely exclaimed. "Get going with her, so I can have my turn!"
"Okay, little brother, I'll get her ready for you," Heather agreed. Calmly, she unfastened the waistband of her pajama pants, tugged them off and dropped them to the floor, while her brother stared avidly at the sweet, smooth creaminess of her bare legs and thick dark-red silky bush between them, surreptitiously dropping his right hand to cup and squeeze his strainingly turgid penis.
"Get that nightie up to your armpits, Mummy, and let's play some girlie games," Heather now instructed. With a warning look at her brother, she directed, "You can look but not touch till I tell you to, and don't forget it. Sit there on the edge of the bed and learn something."
Rachel dosed her eyes and, catching hold of the hems of the black nylon nightie, hastily began to roll it up over her breasts. She bit her lips and her blushes deepened when she heard a sudden hoarse gasp of "Zowie!" from the boy, who had seated himself on the foot of the bed facing them both, sitting tailor-fashion with his hands folded In his lap over his bulging manhood.
Felinely, Heather rolled over on her left side towards her mature victim, her left arm snuggling under Rachel's velvety-bare shoulders, and with her slim right hand began slyly and knowingly to stroke the matron's calves and thighs. She bent her head to brush one of Rachel's nipples with her lips, and again young Tim uttered a gasp of lecherous excitement.
Rachel could not help the convulsive tremors that rippled through her entire body. She waited for the pills to take effect, and she strove with all her willpower to remain passive and thus fulfill the terms of this clandestine compact. As Heather's lips now took hold of her right nipple, she put her right hand to the back of the redhead's neck and murmured, "Heather, do you-do you like to play chess a lot?"
Startled, the half-nude girl raised her head, her large eyes insolently fixing Rachel with a probing look. "Now, what the hell kind of question is that, Mummy, when we're getting ready to screw?"
"I-I want to know, that's all. I saw the chessboard and set in your room, and-well, there aren't too many women who play chess, that's all."
"Yeah, I guess you're right at that. A couple of years ago, I went down to the chess club, but all there were were guys, and most of them wanted to play the screwing game with me and not chess. But I play over games from some of the books-do you know anything about it yourself?"
"Only that there are lots of tournaments going on and Bobby Fisher was the world champion," Rachel replied in a low, husky voice.
Heather gave a short derisive laugh. "That's right, only he doesn't want to play anymore, the creep says. Any more questions, Mummy? All right then, get with it."
"Yeah, that's what I say!" the blond boy impatiently chimed in.
"Just-just one thing more, please, Heather," Rachel petitioned almost in a whisper as again Heather's lips took hold of her stiffening coral nipplebud. "I know a fellow who's awfully good at chess and he'd like to meet you. Would it be all right if I introduced you to him?"
"Sure, I guess so. Now can the chatter, and let's see some action, Mummy! Suppose you turn to me and put your arms around me and start rubbing that hairy gash of yours up against mine." the redhead lewdly commanded.
Obediently, closing her eyes, the brunette matron moved onto her left side to face her tormentress. Her arms encircled Heather's shoulders, and at once she felt the silky friction of her stepdaughter's pubis against her own. Young Tim knelt up, audibly sucking in his breath at the libidinous sight.
Heather's soft moist lips fixed on Rachel's now, and then her tongue darted between them as her hands continued their expert attunement of the matron's palpitating nakedness. Her left hand cupping one of Rachel's shudderingly swelling breasts, her right hand lingeringly crept over the brunette's quivering and flinching buttocks, her fingertips trailing along the sinuous, shadowy crease between them and making Rachel start convulsively at the salacious sensations which her stepdaughter's touches evoked in her being. Her eyes remained tightly closed, as if thus she could shut out what was taking place and remain aloof from it even though participating.
Throughout, she kept repeating to herself that by thus surrendering its chastity, her body could become the more readily scienced in ways to pleasure Tim. In every man, even one so discriminating and considerate as her husband, she now understood, there was a latent streak of uninhibited lust. And surely if the wife could meet and match that hidden yearning with her own joyous acquiescence, then there would be no need for Tim to seek his sexual solace with a woman for hire, even if she were as talented as the Eleanor whom he had so excitedly described. Thus it was that, conquering her first instinctive aversion to Heather's Lesbian embrace, and feeling at last the delightfully drowsy effect of the pills, she began to respond to her stepdaughter. Her tongue met Heather's, her hands began to stroke and fondle Heather's back and the sides of the girl's glossy, exuberant breasts, and her own loins began to press and move from side to side, then up and down, against the redhead's moist, thickly fleeced young vulva.
"Hey!" Heather suddenly, throatily muttered, "you're starting to get to me, Mummy! You've been doing your homework, looks like. Keep it up, only rub harder now. And let's see you French kiss some more!"
"For Crissake, Heather, when do I get to bang her?" young Tim impatiently whined, leaning forward now and resting on his palms and knees as he took in the unexpected sight of Rachel's surrendering union with his sister.
"You can just wait till I'm done, you creep!" Heather turned her flushed face to hiss back at him. "Jack yourself off if you're so hard up. It'll take your edge off, and then when your turn comes; you might just be able to give Mummy a good long ride and not honk out the way you did your very first fuck!"
Then, turning back to the trembling, quivering Rachel, she purred, "Hey, you know, Mummy, you're not such a crummy bitch after all. I won't let little brother stud you too hard. Anyhow, he won't be able to keep it up too long in a hot cunt like yours, Mummy. Now let's forget all about him and screw real good!"
So saying, her mouth again avidly covered Rachel's, her tongue delved deeply, and as her left hand ardently squeezed Rachel's heaving breast, her right hand moved between their bodies to ferret out Rachel's clitoris and to brush it delicately with the tip of her forefinger. Even though the soporific had begun to take its lulling effect, Rachel shuddered violently at that galvanizing contact, a little feverish moan escaping her. Instinctively, too, her loins spasmodically ground(against her stepdaughter's, imprisoning Heather's finger burrowed into the top of her vulva.
"Do me the same way, Mummy?" Heather pantingly begged. And as in a dream, Rachel found herself responding: her soft forefinger probed into the girl's moist twitching core, found the dainty nodule of Heather's clitoris, and began to rub at it this way and that.
With a choking cry of sensual delight, the redhead flung her right leg over Rachel's thigh, arching herself frantically against her stepmother. With jerky, hasty forward movements, she frictioned herself against Rachel's own moistening and palpitating cleft. Her tongue wildly slushed between her stepmother's lips, and Rachel's own soft tongue parried those rapier-thrusts as vaguely she felt herself seething and awakened.
And then with a sobbing cry, Heather grabbed her stepmother's shoulders with both hands, rolled her over onto her back, and, covering her, grinding and jerking and twisting as a male might in the act of coitus, completed her own climatic frenzy. Young Tim uttered an agonized cry of frustration as he watched his sister fling herself onto her back beside the sprawled, naked brunette matron. "Jeez, I just gotta fuck her now, Sis!" he cried.
Rachel Woodling blinked her eyes, mistied and blurred now as the secondal began to draw her towards a blissful limbo. "Do it to me, Tim dear," she heard her own voice as from a distance, husky and trembling. With a cry of avid excitement, the blond boy yanked off his pajama pants and mounted her. His sinewy young fingers clutched her breasts more possessively, more painfully, than Heather's had as with a single dig he hilted himself in her throbbing, lubricated sheath. Rachel's arms enclasped his lean shoulders, and she tilted back her flushed face, her eyes again closing as she felt his wildly roused and rapid thrustings inside her quaking vagina.
Heather slowly got to her knees, her eyes glazed, her left hand rubbing her vulva, her right hand cupping one of her panting ripe young breasts. She licked her lips like a cat, her eyes narrow and shining as she watched for a moment. Then, crawling to the head of the bed, she knelt astride Rachel, staring down at her brother's jerkily moving body.
"Mummy," she exhorted in a thick, sensually ardent voice, "do me with your mouth while Timmy fucks you, please!"
Rachel blinked her eyes open, staring up at the straddled creamy thighs, the thick dark red bush, the slickly wet, gaping pink lips of her stepdaughter's tumescent woman-core. A fiery blush suffused her cheeks, as she whispered, "If-if you want, d-darling."
With a gurgling cry, Heather lowered herself, and as young Tim neared his own frenzied release, Heather's writhing body stiffened and her head tilted back as she felt her stepmother's lips apply a submissive and lingering kiss to her burning apex.
"Ohh, Gawddd, that's good," Heather hissed, wriggling and shuddering, her hands thrusting down to dig her fingers into her stepmother's hair. "Don't stop, use your tongue on my cit too, hard and fast, Mummy, ahh-ohhh Gawddddd, you sweet bitch, that's what I call. making yourself useful round the house-ohhh, ahhh!"
Rachel moaned and squirmed, for the blond boy's frantic, deep, incessant digs into her making vagina had roused a burning tension that, despite the darkening soft shadows which the drug had subtly filtered throughout her being, made her no longer mistress of herself~ Some hidden, atavistic instinct, born out of sheer carnal passion, had been wakened from its long slumber within her innermost recesses. Her hips swerved violently as Tim's bony young shaft delved furiously into her quivering sheath, and her fingers pitilessly dug into Heather's straining naked thighs as she retaliated by rasping her tongue tip into the girl's pink slit, brushing, goading the hardening lodestone at its apex.
"Hold it, Timmy," Heather suddenly panted, her fingers twisting in Rachel's hair and jerking her stepmother's face away. "I want her to finish me off a different way. Come on, little brother, get her on all fours facing me, and you can give it to her dog-fashion. Might as well learn how to be a cocksmith, since Mummy's in a sexy mood to give free lessons! Come on, pull out of her cunt, I told you!"
"Aww, dammit, I was jist gonna go off, Heather," young Tim grumbled, his voice thick and unsteady as he reluctantly withdrew and raised himself on his knees, panting, his face red and contorted with his violent young rut.
"Help me with her, little brother-hell, she must have taken some more of those baby dolls before we paid her this little visit," Heather irritatedly complained, as she seized Rachel's bare arms and pulled her up into a sitting position. "Pull her nightie all the way off, Timmy, earn your fuck-that's it-now, grab her knees, we'll lift her up and turn her over-that's the way-set her down on her knees-ahh, now relax, Mummy, we're not going to hurt you any, you've been doing just fine-get behind her, Timmy, grab her hips to hold her up so you can steer your cock into her cunt-mm, that's the way, little brother!"
Rachel did not resist; only vaguely did she squirm and twist as she felt the nightgown tugged off and flung aside, felt them lifting and manipulating her quivering naked body, till she was on her knees, her palms groping along the rumpled sheets as if, once more, she was wandering in that desolate canyon of her early dream. Heather knelt before her, fingers twisting in the brunette matron's disheveled black hair, drawing her forward: "A little more now-mm, that's just right, Mummy-now do what you were doing before-use your tongue, I want to feel it on my clit! All right now, Timmy, bang-her-if you can find the hole, little brother!"
"Aw, shut up, why'd you hafta needle me all the time, Sis?" the youth whined, his eyes laving Rachel's velvety olive-sheened, proffered buttocks as he moved closer to her, his glistening, stiff penis pointed towards the gaping, readied crevice.
Heather drew Rachel's face up against her thick muff: "Do me good!" she hissed, her eyes glazed with feverish desire. And with one hand she cupped one of her stepmother's dark and hard-tipped breasts, the other relentlessly twisted in Rachel's hair.
Crouching on all fours, Rachel submitted; she was willess now, her consciousness slipping away. And yet the first hard probe of her stepson's penis into her sensitized vagina made her arch her back and thrust herself out to receive the brunt of his assault. Her lips parted, her tongue moved against the dark silky puff of Heather's pubis, and at once the girl's fingers convulsively tightened on her panting breast.
Now it seemed that a violent wind was buffeting her body in the canyon; she lurched against Heather with a stifled little groan each time the boy's avidly thrusting penis sought to hilt itself inside her, and at the same instant, her tongue thrust out in retaliation. Heather mewled aloud, squirming on her knees, feeling herself thus drawn towards the ungovernable vortex of release, and young Tim, gasping hoarsely at each driving lunge, dug his fingertips like talons into Rachel's shuddering bare hips.
As the all-encompassing darkness rolled over her, Rachel heard as from a distance the shrill scream of Heather's ecstasy mingling with the boy's agonized bellow of fulfillment… and then a third voice-her own, unrecognizable-merged as her body shook frenetically in orgasmic response…