Cynthia moved over to Frankie's apartment. Several days later the two scratches, long parallel streaks which ran across his cheek like red threads, had disappeared. When she asked him about Gypsy's departure, he would stroke the scratches and say, "Yeah, she was realty pissed off, baby, but she's gone now, thank God, so don't worry about it."
That evening he drove her downtown to one of the more fashionable clubs so she could begin bringing in some money, assuring her that this was only temporary and he would soon be getting her "some rich suckers" as soon as he had made a few more contacts. He pointed out a nearby hotel which accepted clients for short stays, kissed her and let her out at the corner.
She felt nervous; she was reluctant to enter a bar alone for the first time in her life. Nearing the neon-lighted club, she glanced at the doorman who looked her up and down appreciatively and then walked past, her courage failing her. She was afraid to enter and afraid not to, knowing how angry Frankie would be if she returned empty-handed. She walked around the block and stopped for a cup of coffee. Finally, deciding that she couldn't put it off any longer, she left, walked determinedly to the club and, clutching her purse with nervous fingers and holding her head high, marched through the door which was swept open by the uniformed doorman. Inside, she paused in the small foyer which was higher than the rest of the club and looked down the short flight of steps. To the right was a bar and beyond were several dozen tables with a spot-lighted piano at the far end, set on a small dais and being played by an anemic-looking Negro who was moaning about his woman who had left him for a Cadillac. Feeling lost and very conspicuous, she looked around and wondered what to do, but then spotted an empty stool at the bar and walked down the steps and over to it.
When she had sat down, a man standing next to her turned around, glanced over his shoulder to see if she was alone or not and asked if he could buy her a drink. He was short and fat and his bald head glistened in the dim light; on his nose was a wart with two long black hairs growing out of it. She said she'd like a Scotch. When he leaned toward her, making idle chatter while his eyes appraised her, the smell of his breath almost toppled her off her chair. My God, she thought, what do I do now? I can't possibly make love to this man. As he talked and become more openly admiring, she wished she'd had more experience and wondered frantically how to get rid of him; she glanced around to see if there were any likelier prospects, but all the other men at the bar seemed to be accompanied by women. Shivering at the thought of his hands on her naked body, she decided she couldn't possibly do it, no matter how much money he might pay. He asked her if she were busy the rest of the evening. She stammered that she had a late date, had only stopped in for a drink beforehand and would have to leave. Gathering up her gloves and purse, she murmured her thanks for the drink and quickly walked out. Outside, she breathed the clean, fresh air and debated where to go next. She was afraid to go back to Frankie too soon and without any money, so she started ambling down the street, planning to stop at another bar and there perhaps have better luck. She passed one bar after another; something seemed wrong with all of them. She was beginning to wish she had taken up the man back at the club, just to get it over with so she could go home, when she heard a soft voice behind her. She looked over her shoulder; it was the same man from the club.
"Pardon me," he said. "Are you sure you wouldn't like another drink?"
"No, thanks," she said.
"I can make it worth your while." They walked along together.
She sighed. And although he was still as unattractive as ever, she decided that he would be better than nothing, for it was growing late.
"Okay," she said wearily, wondering how much to ask for. "It'll be fifty."
He nodded his head; she wished she had asked for more.
They went to the hotel Frankie had pointed out, rented a room and went up without speaking. He counted out the fifty in ten dollar bills and handed them to her. She put them in her purse and they both began to undress, still without speaking. Well, she thought, if he's not going to say anything. I'll be damned if I will.
When she had undressed, she lay down on the bed and unenthusiastically watched him. He had hung his coat and shirt over the back of the chair and now was carefully laying his trousers on the seat, making sure the creases were straight. As she had expected, his body was as fat as his face, with roils of white, pasty dough trapped around his waist and a tiny prick dangling in a sparse black nest of hair. Her whole body felt cold; she looked down and saw it was covered with goose pimples. He walked over to the bed and looked silently down at her. She stared back without saying anything, but finally managed to smile weakly.
"Kiss my ear," he said coldly, "it's the only way I can get an erection," and lay down beside her without touching her.
She almost burst out laughing with surprise. Turning on her side, she began caressing his ear, running her tongue slowly along the grooves and swirls, sucking the lobe and kissing it with her wet lips.
"Harder," he said.
Okay, Cynthia thought to herself, you asked for it, and began viciously chewing and twisting his ear with her teeth until she thought she would tear it off. He was grunting and groaning, but whether with ecstasy or pain, she couldn't tell. She sank her sharp, white teeth deeper into his lobe and ran her tongue sharply inside. Glancing down through her long, blond hair lying over their faces, she almost fainted in surprise. Sticking up from his groin like a giant marble obelisk was one of the biggest erections she had ever seen. For the first time since she had met him, she began to get excited and wished he'd start making love to her.
He suddenly wrenched his head away, rolled over and straddled her, his buttocks on her belly, and bent to lick wetly the hollow between her full, white tits. With his hands cupped on either side of the quivering, resilient mounds he squeezed them together until the two red, hardened buds of her nipples were side by side. He thrust his loins forward, pressing the full length of his giant cock up the tight tunnel between, rocking back and forth so it slid up and down the saliva moistened groove. Seeing its tip appearing and disappearing between her tightly compressed breasts, she felt the familiar juices of lust begin to flow down between her legs. He took her hands and made her hold her tits together while he reached behind him and began to finger her vagina with hard brutal thrusts. And… just as the tension inside her was about to break, he slid down and thrust his huge, pulsating cock hard up into her throbbing and now hungry cunt. Her muscles contracted violently around his driving organ and she bucked under him as he ground down into her from on top of her writhing body.
"Bite my ear, bite my ear," he chanted down into her hair.
She seized it between her teeth and furiously sucked and chewed, feeling his pelvis smack against hers harder and harder until with one quick gasp from his lips he emptied himself completely inside her. She jerked for a moment trying to reach her own completion, but it was useless. He was dead inside her and rolled limply off her squirming body. She clenched her fists tightly together to drive back her disappointment. She overcame it quickly and got up and went into the bathroom to straighten herself up. He was still lying on the bed when she came out.
"Can't you stay any longer?" he said hopefully.
"No, I have to go," she answered, remembering Gypsy's advice to get out quickly when they had finished with her the first time. She dressed quickly while he watched her and left just as he started to get out of bed.
It wasn't quite as bad as I thought it would be, she thought to herself as she descended the stairs toward the street. Now for home – and Frankie, she sighed with relief.
She walked away from the hotel and looked for a taxi. As she rounded a corner she collided with a man who was walking hurriedly, head bent. He stepped back, murmured, "Pardon me," and started to pass, when he suddenly shouted, "Cynthia! Cynthia Holiday!" and grabbed her arm. "Cynthia, how wonderful to see you!"
Not recognizing him at first, she stared blankly at his lean body and wide, happy smile. Then she realized it was Paul Dawson, the Paul of what seemed years ago, with whom she had grown up and who had taken her to the square dance just before she had come to Chicago.
"Paul Dawson!" she said and kissed him. "What are you doing in Chicago?" She was delighted to see him.
"Up over the weekend from college," he said. "I've been trying to find you all over. Your aunt gave me your address, but they said you'd moved."
"Yes, just a couple days ago."
"Come on. Let's get a drink. This needs celebrating." He steered her into a nearby bar, his young face radiating happiness. "What a piece of luck to run into you. I'd about given up."
They sat down and ordered drinks. "How's everything at home?" Cynthia said.
"Oh, fine. What are you doing these days?"
"I…" she hesitated. "I gave up my old job and am looking for a new one." The excitement of seeing Paul had whirled her back to the innocent days of her life on the farm and she had almost forgotten what she had been doing, just fifteen minutes ago. Knowing how horrified Paul would be if he found out, she became somewhat panic-stricken. It had all happened so gradually, she hadn't fully realized before how far she had come and how much her life had changed since she had left the farm.
"Didn't you like your old one?" he said.
"Not particularly. But I suppose I should have waited 'til I'd found another one… I'm getting kind of low, in cash, that is," she lied.
"Look, can I help you out, Cynthia?" he said eagerly. "Really, I'd love to loan you some money."
"No that isn't necessary, Paul, but thanks, anyway."
"Aw, come on." He reached in his pocket and got out his wallet. "Here, take thirty. Please. I wish I had more to give you."
"Well, okay. Thanks." She took the bills and stuffed them into her purse. She had long wanted to buy Frankie a present. She decided it would be better to steer the conversation away from how she spent her time. "How's college, Paul?"
"Okay. I'm almost through, you know. Just a few more months."
"Then what?"
"I thought I might come to Chicago and get a job. Are you planning on staying here?"
"Yes, I guess so."
"It seems to be agreeing with you. You look wonderful, Cynthia – and a lot older."
She laughed. "You mean I've aged that much?"
He blushed in confusion. "No. No. I didn't mean that! Just that you look so city-fied and sophisticated now. And beautiful!" He looked admiringly at her bare shoulders rising like a pale flower above the sheer black dress.
She laughed again. "You mean I wasn't before?" she said teasingly.
He became embarrassed. "You know what I mean. You know I've always thought you were just about the most beautiful thing ever."
He gazed at her, open adoration in his eyes; they reminded her of a puppy begging for food, pleading and hopeful. More accustomed to the hard, cynical talk and admiration of the men she had met since coming to Chicago, she found his boyish confusion and awkward attempts to compliment her appealing, although somewhat embarrassing. And then, too, he reminded her of her parents – a momentary twinge of guilt stirred in her heart as she thought of how much she had deceived them. But she felt happy again as she thought of Frankie and how exciting her new life was, a life she wouldn't trade for any other. She suddenly felt years older than Paul.
"Dear Paul," she said and took his hand in hers and squeezed it. "You're so sweet. You are nice!"
He looked disappointed. "Is that all you think of me?"
"Oh, you're impossible," she laughed. "I guess I've just changed. Our lives back home seem so far away."
"Remember the square dance we went to? You looked so pretty that night I wanted to carry you right off."
"On your white steed?"
"No, in my 1940 Chevy!" he laughed. "Oh, Cynthia, I hope we can see each other a lot when I come to Chicago."
She became wary and evasive. "Well, probably. But I'll have a job then and I'll be a lot busier."
"And so will I – but I'll never be too busy to see you." Unlike Frankie's poker-face, Paul's betrayed every flicker of his feelings, and now it was hopeful and pleading again. "Where are you staying? I may not be able to come again before I finish school, but I want to write you."
"Well, that's a bit difficult." Under no circumstances did she want him to find out she was living with Frankie. "I'm staying at a hotel right now, but hope to find an apartment. I'll tell you what, the best thing to do is to write me at my aunt's."
"Okay. Just so I can find you whenever I come back, without having to bump into every female in Chicago!"
Someone stuck a quarter in the nickelodeon and a swingy ballad pulsed out.
"Want to dance?" he said.
"Where?" Cynthia looked around. Although the bar was almost empty there was hardly any floor space.
"There's room between the tables. Come on." He got up and helped her to her feet.
Even in high heels, the top of her head came just to his mouth. At first he seemed ill at ease, and held her practically at arm's length, as though she were so fragile she would break if he pressed her to him. This amused her and she snuggled up against him until they were swaying slowly to the music, body against body, his head bent, his nose and lips nuzzling in her hair.
"You smell so nice," he murmured. "Fresh as a spring meadow."
She knew he wanted her, but was too much in love with her, as he had been for so long, and too shy in his inexperience to make many open advances, for fear of being rejected. However, the only love she wanted now after her frustration with the fat man was physical love, and she was afraid that if she submitted it would only succeed in making him more in love with her than ever. But as she felt his young virility through the rough tweed of his clothes, her qualms left her. She wanted a man. And maybe, she thought, if we make love he'd be satisfied and I'll be free of him.
So she rubbed her body up against his like a purring cat; her breasts, squashed against his chest, became hard, the nipples rigid and aching. Between the soft masses of her thighs she felt his leg moving slowly and insistently, pressed strongly along the lips of her vagina, while the turgid lump of his erection jutted into the soft flesh of her belly.
"Cynthia, Cynthia," he breathed in her ear, "I love you so." As they danced together, hardly moving, smashed together into one person, lust rose within her to spread the dull ache emanating from her groin throughout her limbs until her whole body was hot, trembling with desire and passion. He, too, was breathing heavily, his muscles as tense as a coiled spring.
"Let's go to my hotel," he whispered.
They left and found a taxi. The door had no sooner slammed than he crushed her in his arms and their lips met in a long, mellow kiss and their tongues sucked the honeyed juices from each other's mouths. Oblivious to the jolting taxi, the screeching halts for stop-lights, the lights of other cars flashing in the windows, they remained clasped together, searching for the treasures of lip and mouth, insatiable and without pause until the taxi jarred to a stop and a dry voice said, "Here we are, kids."
Blindly they climbed out and started for the entrance of the hotel.
"Hey, bud," the voice yelled. "How's about payin', huh?"
Paul went back and tossed him a couple of bills. "Keep the change," he mumbled and ran back to Cynthia.
"Thanks," the driver yelled, "and have a good time," his laugh rising above the sound of the accelerating motor.
When they reached his room, she looked around and recognized a few of his clothes scattered about – the bright green tie he had worn while home on Easter vacation and which she had unmercifully teased him about.
"Do you remember this?" she said laughingly and picked it up, holding it out to him. But he was looking at her seriously, with the intensity of a young lover, with the complete adoration of a first love – and she almost felt like a virgin again.
"Oh, Cynthia, Cynthia, I do love you so," he murmured as he walked toward her. He picked her up and carried her over to a large chair. He sat down, holding her on his lap. With his fingers he slowly traced the arch of her eyebrows, the hollow of her cheek, the straight line of her nose and ran it softly over the bow of her lips. She took it between her teeth and gently bit the tip while they looked deeply into the bottomless depths of each other's eyes, seeing reflected their mutual lust and desire. He brushed his hand down the thick, blond mane of her hair and drew her head down; his lips kissed the fragile shells of her closed lids and whispered over her nose and cheek to her lips, nibbling the smooth fragrant flesh, following the sweep of her hairline to the nape of her neck. Her head bent, his fingers ran lightly down the curve of her spine until they touched her low-cut dress and, as she straightened up, followed the black demarcation around to her breasts which swelled softly over the top of the material. He kissed the hollow of her neck, quietly, almost reverently, while his other hand strayed lightly up her leg, stroking the firm curves until it reached the full softness of her thighs and the barrier of her panties.
"Just a second," she murmured and got up.
She undid her skirt and stepped out of it. Through the transparent silkiness of her slip her legs rose lean and long, the stockings a dusky tan over the tawny skin, molding smoothly and tautly the upward curves, marking the middle of her thighs with a dark line, the flesh above wedged outward. He watched her mutely, his hands clenched together, a bead of perspiration on his upper lip. Reaching behind, she unzipped the top of the dress with its built-in brassiere so that it fell away from her suddenly, revealing in one sweep the full lushness of her torso which rose above her slip like a honey-colored tulip. Her hair tumbled loosely over her shoulders, framing the oval of her face with its blue eyes and red, parted lips and white glistening teeth. A lock strayed down over one breast, its blondness blending with the tanned hue of her skin, its swaying gratefulness accentuating the firm upward piles of her breasts, whose rigid tips glowed dully like the hearts of two blossoms. Like a flower she stood before him, but a flower of a loveliness and color never produced in nature, for below her waist she was all black and above, the rich color of a leopard; her legs, together in a straight line, encased in the dark stockings and tight, black half-slip, looked like the black stem of a flower proudly supporting the blossom of her torso, tinted like a pale, copper nasturtium.
She put her fingers under the elastic of her slip and began to slide it down, wriggling her hips as she did so. Paul leaped out of his chair and ran over to her, saying, "Let me do it."
He knelt before her, his head on a level with her waist, and looked at the fine texture of her skin, the flat planes of her sides which leveled down to the black of the slip; he looked up and saw her breasts, small and firm, jutting outward like two outcroppings of molten rock. But he did not touch her inviting nude flesh. Instead, he carefully put his hands on the smooth, silky material, hooking a finger under the band, and slowly drew it downward, thus by inch uncovering to his gaze the swelling fullness of her hips, round and resilient under the mesh panties, and the obese rise of her pubic mound richly covered with an umbrage of soft golden hair. Her slip lying in a pool around her feet, he drew off her panties with the same quiet, studied care, and unhooked her stockings and garter-belt peeling the hose down one by one between his two hands, feeling the slippery stuff give way to the warm, resilient flesh of her thighs and calves. Finally she stepped out of her shoes, and stood before him completely naked, silent before his adoration, her body quivering in anticipation. She felt like a worshipped pagan Goddess.
Like a blind man reading Braille, he reached up and touched her, his fingers running like gentle spiders over her body, as though he had to find and know every hair, every pore, savor every curve and hollow, every drop of perspiration, memorize her body, so he could store it in the shrine of his mind. So light were his fingers she could scarcely feel them, like cobwebs blown across her skin, but at the same time they were warm and caring, their touch like a shock of electricity which coursed through her limbs and made her feel completely alive. She closed her eyes, breathing heavily, trembling uncontrollably. Through the entrance of her passion she heard the muted sound of traffic, and like the opening shutter of a camera, the memory of her first night in Chicago flickered through her mind.
Then just as she thought she could no longer stand his teasing fingers, she felt his warm lips on her stomach and then lower down at the juncture of her thighs. She put her hands on the back of his head and pressed it against her, murmuring: "Yes, yes, oh, yes. Kiss me there."
His lips found the ridges of pink flesh embedded in the encircling hedge of silky, blond curls and his tongue the soft cleft between, which he licked and sucked deeply, tasting the salty-sweet liquor of her seeping passion. Clasping his head, which was glued to her loins like a leech, her head fell forward, her yellow hair curtaining her quivering breasts and, moaning softly, she rocked and swayed as the agony of pleasure burned brighter within her until the final ecstasy made her whole body leap and shiver in a paroxysm of bliss, and she doubled over and fell on top of him, her still contracting pelvis rolling on his shoulder.
He put his arms around her buttocks, balanced her on his shoulder, got up and carried her over to the bed where he laid her gently down. Then he undressed quickly, snapped out the light and lay down beside her. Through the half-open slats of the venetian blinds a neon outside sent bars of pulsating, changing light across the bed, a flickering kaleidoscope of color; between dark bands of shadow, strips of red lashed across their bodies like whip-marks, strips which changed slowly into a mysterious green, then into a rich purple, then a glowing yellow, followed by a cool, ice-blue. As the sign went off and on, bathing them in alternating darkness and slabs of rainbow color, it was as though they were in a strange underworld, their bodies alien and not belonging to them; in the moments of darkness as though they had ceased to exist; in the flashes of light as though they were more intensely alive than ever before. Their eyes and teeth glistened like devils', dark and shining, and their torsos were like turning candy-poles: red, green, yellow, purple.
Although his penis was hard and throbbed in readiness, he continued to explore her body, ever different in the changing light – as if he had not one passionate woman under his hands and lips but five, each a tantalizingly different color.
Now her full, flaccid breasts rose up in the criss-cross of purple light like dark, sullen hills, their nipples black like tiny cinders, hard and resilient like rubber; the once blond, soft cleft of the pubic hair covering the wetness of her loins looked teasingly like a minuscule field of clover, mysterious and bewitched by the thin, moist trench of her vagina dividing it equally into two tiny thrilling triangles of soft down. Now the light flashed to a livid red and as she rolled over, turning under his inquisitive, fondling hands, her smooth rounded buttocks rose like two full blood-red moons, the crevice between a dark path of sin leading down the center of her sensual being. He worshipped the beauty of her young, naked body for a few moments longer and then could stand the torturous wait no longer.
He dropped his hands to the mattress and slid them under her stomach and pulled up until she was crouching on her hands and knees. He knelt behind her, his long rigid cock nosing its way up between the upraised columns of her thighs which quivered in the light like two large reflections of shimmering blue fire. As he rocked slowly back and forth behind her kneeling body, teasing the white, softness of the flesh between her legs with the wet strength of his erection, he could feel her trembling under his hands. He clasped her buttocks, two blue satin hills and pressed them apart gently so as not to break the magic of the spell they were under. He pressed slowly forward and felt her hand beneath her body reach back and secretly enfold his hardness and guide it softly between the warm, tender lips of her cunt. The soft, sparse hair surrounding it grazing maddeningly against the sensitive bulbous head. Resting on her arms, she groaned softly, lowered her back and arched her hips in the air to expose the flowering entrance to his searching cock. Inch by inch he eased into the moist, secret tunnel, feeling the rings of muscles giving way to his slow but relentless pressure. The soft and contracting muscles relaxed momentarily as he pressed by them and then without warning would clamp violently back around him like tight slippery rubber bands. She groaned as he suddenly touched bottom and he was fully imprisoned within her.
They held still for a moment, savoring the moist, delicious contact of their bodies and then with the rhythm of the changing neon light streaming through the window, his hands guided her rotating hips and he slowly drew out, the movement making a wet, sucking noise of intercourse that incited their passions to greater heights. She thrust her buttocks back and sucked him into her again, and now they stayed coupled together so that her body leaped and churned around the hardness of his cock as though she were a fish on the end of a spear.
"Now, darling, now," she cried and with a sudden gigantic lunge exploded in her orgasm, tears of joy rolling from her cheeks. Paul groaned behind her and sinking his suddenly jerking cock deep up in her belly poured forth his hot thick sperm in gush after gush of flowing passion.
Exhausted, they fell on their sides, still fused tightly together. They rested quietly for a few minutes and then he turned her on his rejuvenated penis until they were facing each other, their legs closely entwined. Their lips met in a timeless kiss and their hips and buttocks moved like lazy pendulums as their desire once more climbed to the crest and exploded. Afterwards, the throbbing muscles of her vagina squeezed him tightly, draining the last of his sperm from his satiated loins and then they fell into a long dreamless sleep.