She gave her head a toss exactly in the manor you might see it done in a very old movie and tried to walk around me. I grinned and placed my arm over the door. She frowned and stepped back and for a moment I thought she might have a gun in her purse – she was fumbling through it. But it wasn't a gun she was looking for – it was a handkerchief. She blew her nose daintily, wiped her eyes equally daintily, and looked at me oddly. Replacing the handkerchief in the purse, she spoke, "What are you going to do – rape me?
I laughed. "Hell no, Miss Doans. Rape is against the law. I don't want to tangle with the law. I just want you to stay awhile till we become better acquainted."
"I came here because I was told you had empty bedrooms in this large old house, I wanted to rent one of them temporarily, I didn't come here to play games with you, Mr. Horton."
I was dumfounded. I knew now that she meant this, but all the time she had been here I had been thinking subconsciously probably that she was simply looking for a guy to lay her. I hadn't really believed that bit about the room. Hell, people don't go around renting rooms from strangers nowadays, do they? Well, okay, maybe they do. It doesn't matter.
"Hey," I said, taking my hand off the door jamb. "I believe you're serious about this room renting thing. Are you – were you?"
She pressed her lips together tightly. "I certainly was serious, Mr. Horton.
Now, if you'll kindly step out of my way, I'll be taking my leave."
"I'll be damned," I swore. "I'm sorry, Miss Doans. I think I… that is to say, I misunderstood you, I'm afraid."
"That's quite easy to see, Mr. Horton. May I leave now, please?"
I opened the front door and flashed a quick look into her dark eyes. "Sure, go ahead. Don't suppose there's any use in my apologizing to you, is there?"
"It wouldn't do you any harm to try, Mr. Horton." She swept past me and out onto the porch. She stepped down to the in-walk and turned slightly about so that she was almost facing me almost but not quite. "Thank you," she said, speaking softly. "Thank you for letting me go."
I just looked at her. The expression on her pretty face made me feel as if I had just attempted to molest a nine-year-old girl.
I waited for a time and then went out the rear door to look for Jill. She was, quite naturally, nowhere in sight, so I walked around the garage and out to the street. Going to the intersection, I crossed the other street and proceeded to the Burns residence. When I arrived there I saw there were no signs of activity, which of course was perfectly normal. Whatever activity took place at the Burns residence was not out-of-doors but inside, and more especially inside one of the bedrooms. I wondered if Jack was taking both Jill and Mary and, if so, how he was doing it. Not bothering to knock – this would only force them to cease whatever they were doing – fucking, sucking, corn-holing, what-have-you, I entered the house and closed the door, taking care not to make a great deal of noise, but not trying to be especially quiet about it, either. I didn't want anyone to think I was sneaking up on them in order to spy, though Jill and I had tried that twice, together.
I went down the hall to the door of the rec room and pushed it open. I stared at what I saw on the carpet. Mary was naked and sleeping on her side. Jack was also in the nude and on his side, facing her. He was without question sleeping soundly. I looked about for Jill, but she was nowhere in the room. Puzzled somewhat, I closed the door and returned to the front room where I helped myself to some of Jack's Scotch. I shook my head. "What in hell is the use in swapping partners if all you do is sleep on the carpet?" I muttered, asking myself a question I had thought about asking the other time, the time Jill and I had found them sleeping naked on the floor.
I had another short drink and went to the bedroom where Jill and Jack slept. I opened the door and saw her lying on her back crossways of the bed. She, too, was sleeping soundly. For some strange reason, this irked me. "Hey," I cried loudly. "Wake up, sleeping beauty."
Jill's eyes came open, she saw me and sat upright quickly. "I must have fallen asleep," she said. "Damn it. How did you make out with the broad? I wanted to go back, sneak in and watch you."
"False alarm. She really wanted to rent a room. I made a face. "She's a weirdo.
Wouldn't doubt it if someone told me she's never had a guy.". I made another face. "Christ! I can't stand such women. She was like something out of a nineteen-twenty novel."
Jill rubbed her eyes. "Of course she was, baby. That's what got me so excited.
I could tell immediately that she was a virgin or dose to it. That's why I wanted you to put the make on her so I could watch."
"What do you mean, you thought she was a virgin or close to it. How can a woman be close to it?"
Jill laughed and yawned at the same time, the yawn shutting off the best part of her laugh. "Never mind me, or what I say. I'm half asleep. Speaking of being close to it, I'm fairly close to your cock, baby. Like a little French job on it, huh?"
"What's your other hobby?" I asked, grinning. "The one besides cock-sucking, I mean?"
"That's my only one, baby. I admit it. I'm a cocksucker and I love it. I could suck ten cocks a day with hell on Sundays, provided I could find that many men willing to let me."
"I'll let you for starters, baby," I told her, a wave of desire sweeping over me. The way this woman was talking to a guy… hell, he couldn't help getting a hard-on just from listening to her, not to mention looking at her lush body.
She was really something, this Jill gal.
"Stick your prick in my mouth, baby," she begged, closing her eyes and thrusting her head forward. "Stick your prick into my mouth and blow your wad, baby. I want to feel the old goo squirting down my throat. Man, do I ever love the feel of it striking the inside of my mouth."
I got down on my knees and removed my erection from my pants. Her lips were parted, so I did as she had begged me to do – I rammed my cock halfway down her throat. She fairly pounced on it, sucking and licking it wildly. I could have blown off immediately had she not stopped sucking it.
I was disappointed. "Why did you stop?" I asked, frowning at her.
"You're choking me, baby," she gasped. "I swear that thing gets larger every day."
I pulled it away from her face and reaching down, parted her legs. "I think I'll just ram it up your box this time. Sometimes I like it better this way.
Come on, open your legs farther."
She spread them wide and looked up at me with the most extremely wanton look. I believe I had ever seen in a human being. "Fuck my cunt, baby," she moaned.
"Pretend it's that schoolteacher and fuck it good."
It was the following evening while Mary was out of the house that I heard someone knocking on my front door again. It was just after dusk and I had the house lights turned on. When I heard the knocking I thought it might be the paper boy – he often came at this hour to collect for a two-week period. I went to the door, after hesitating a moment, and opened it. There was no one there.
I stepped onto the porch and glanced about. It was, of course, rather dark outside but the street lamps offered me some assistance when I scanned the area thoroughly. There was no one except a pair of teen-agers across the street.
They were laughing and half hollering at each other about whatever it was that took their fancy. Neither of them, however, could have been the one knocking on my door. I frowned and returned inside the house and picked up the newspaper which I had been reading. From time to time I would glance through a front window in the hope of seeing someone, and it was a full five minutes before it dawned on me whom I was looking for – the schoolteacher, Miss Doans. For some crazy reason I thought she had been the one doing the knocking on my door.
I lighted a cigarette, considered having a drink, but dismissed this after a moment's thought. I waited. Waited some more. Finally, I turned out the light over my head, put the paper aside and simply sat there, having lighted another cigarette. I was sure, again, for some crazy reason, that Nora Doans would return to my door and repeat her knock. All right. I wasn't sure. I was hopeful. Put it that way. Hopeful as hell. My cock was as hard as it could get and this was somewhat unusual. Generally, I need to be with a woman before my cock grows that rigid; I suppose it happened because of my musings about the schoolteacher, Nora Doans. There was something about her that had me all caught up. She wasn't only beautiful, and sexy-looking in her own way, but she had a certain quality about her that I found difficult to pin down, to describe. It could have been, of course, that she was a "natural born" teaser type. Every guy has met women of this type, though they are few and far between, and when he meets one of them, he knows how much he wants to get into her pants. So it was with me. There was no apparent reason why I should be caught up with her -and I mean "caught up" in the sense that she made me terrifically hot and bothered from merely thinking about her – but I knew I was. Somehow or other I had to find her and put the make on her. I knew I'd never rest until I had at least made the attempt. Sitting there in the chair, I now recalled her brunette beauty, her dark eyes, her tanned skin (maybe it wasn't tanned, but that was the effect it gave; maybe it was merely dark). I could picture her long shapely legs and how they had looked encased in the stockings she had worn. (This gal could have worn support stockings and appeared sexy.) I remembered her red lips, how full they had been, how perfect they would be for sucking a long hard cock.
I went off in my pants like an idiot.
I swore and got to my feet and then grinned and went upstairs and changed my under shorts. That had been the first time I had gone, off merely from thinking of a certain woman since I had been a young teen-ager.
I returned to the downstairs part of the house and looked through the front windows again, hoping to see her standing on the walk, perhaps. She wasn't there. I swore and grinned at the same time again and went back to my chair.
Picking up the paper, I tried to read the sports page but couldn't concentrate on it. There was nothing there to interest me. There was but one thing that could interest me at the moment and that was fucking a certain schoolteacher named Nora Doans. I even considered calling the principal of the school – the Hill school I believe she had called it – and attempting to discover her place of abode. The more I thought about this, the more convinced I became that if I didn't attempt it I would never forgive myself. I found myself at the phone, some minutes later, and dialing the school principal's number. He, wasn't at home, but his wife, after I had inquired where Miss Nora Doans was staying, offering the fib that I was an old friend of hers from out of town, looked up Nora's address and told me she was staying at the local hotel temporarily.
I thanked her and hung up quickly.
Going to the bathroom, I hastily showered and shaved and then put on my newest suit. I wanted to look great when I saw Miss Doans, if I saw her. A few minutes after I had finished dressing, I was walking down the main street the two blocks to the hotel. Funny. I knew the place was a hotel but had never really considered it to be one. More, than likely this was because my only connection with the place had been downstairs – in the bar. I entered the bar now and walked into the secondary room where a group was playing soft music. I stood there and listened a moment before ordering a drink and was surprised at how well the music sounded. Like most people beyond the teens I had long been accustomed to expect the music of "today" to sound like a cross between old-fashioned square-dance music and noise. This particular group, however, didn't sound that way. I made a note to bring Mary here some evening. Mary liked music when it was listenable.
After finishing the drink I discovered where the stairs were that led to the second floor where the, hotel itself was located. I went upstairs and saw a female clerk – a rather old woman – behind a desk. Approaching her, I asked if Miss Doans was in her room.
The old gal looked at me out of pale blue eyes while she brushed a wisp of gray hair out of her eyes. Apparently she was deaf, for she asked me to repeat my question. "How's that, young man?" she asked.
"I'm looking for Miss Nora Doans. I'm a friend of hers. Will you tell me her room number, please?.
"You a friend of hers, you say?" The old gal was studying me suspiciously.
That's funny. Just this afternoon she was telling me she didn't know a soul in town."
"She knows me," I said impatiently. What the bell was wrong with this old biddy?
The old gal looked me up and down and grinned oddly. "Her number is two-five-two."
"Two-five-two," I repeated alter her. "Thanks. I put a five-spot in her hand.
"Buy yourself a new hat, grandma," I said, and walked away from the desk before she could say another word.
I found 252 easily – it was only fifty feet or so down the hallway. I started to turn the knob, then decided that that was definitely not the thing to do, not with this woman, Nora Doans. I knocked lightly and waited. The door swung open after a moment and I looked at her, taking care to push one of my feet forward in case she became angry, for some reason, and wanted to slam the door in my face. She didn't do this, however, but on the contrary actually smiled at me, her eyes lighting up considerably.
"Hello," she said. Were you looking for me or is this merely a coincidence?"
"Both," I said, which wasn't quite true. "May I come in I'd like to talk to you."
"Is your… wife with you?"
This was an absurd question; she could see very well that my wife wasn't with me, but perhaps she meant my wife might be waiting downstairs. "No," I replied.
"I'm alone, Miss Roans."
"Oh…, you remembered my name. How nice." Her voice was soft and… well, maddening. "Yes… you may come in, Mr. Horton. We'll have to-er-leave the door open. The lady at the desk might not like it if I had a… man in my room with the door closed."
Big deal. Who cared whether the old gal liked the door open or not. I stepped into the room and deliberately but carefully closed the door, not making a sound as I did so. Her eyes grew quite big as I turned and looked at her brunette beauty.
"You really shouldn't have done that, Mr. Horton."
"If I hadn't closed the door, Miss Doans every person that walked past your room would see that you, a schoolteacher, had a man in her room. This way they won't know."
She bobbed her head up and down. "Y-Yes, I see your point. Er – what was it you wanted to talk to me about."
"To came to… tell you that-er-my wife and I have decided to rent a room to you after all."
She actually clapped her hands. "Wonderful, just wonderful. I don't like staying in this place very well. There's always drunken men coming up from the bar and knocking on my door and asking me to let them in." She flashed me a quick look. "Naturally, I don't allow them inside."
I thought about how quickly she had opened the door when I had knocked but said nothing about it. Evidently, Miss Doans was just ever so little a phony of some sort. But then, what about it. Everyone has a trace of phoniness in him, though there are very few people willing to admit it. "Miss Doans, you'll have to stay here at the hotel for a few more-er-days." (It occurred to me that I was being one hell of a phony at the moment.) "My wife says she'll need time to prepare a room for you." I wondered if she would believe this nonsense and apparently she did, for she nodded and thanked me.
There was a silence in the room for a few moments. "I'm sorry I acted the way I did at my house, Miss Doans," I told her, feeling slightly uncomfortable about having to mention this. To my surprise she laughed softly. "Oh, that was all right. You were just being a man. Men are men and that is that. You couldn't help it. I wished I could have been more… amenable to… to…"
"Yes." I said, hoping she would finish the sentence.
She didn't. She changed the subject. "Would you like to sit down, Mr. Horton.
Only place I have, as you can see, is the bed. Perhaps we can sit on the bed … together." She was actually blushing now, which astonished me. I hadn't seen a woman blush this way in years.
"Thank you," I said roughly, and sitting down on the bed, I pulled her down flat on it and lifted her skirts high on her legs.
"Why… what are you doing, Mr. Horton?" she asked, her face very red now, her tone of voice faltering.
"My dear girl" I said fiercely. "Ever since I first laid eyes on you in my front room I've wanted to fuck you. In fact, I haven't been able to think of anything else. So… I came here… I found out you lived here… and here I am… hard-on and all. Which hard-on you are presently going to receive, all the way to the hilt. You, my dear Miss Doans, schoolteacher and apparent virgin, are about to be fucked."
Her eyes were wide now and there was fear in them. I looked at her closely.
There was something else in her eyes along with awful fear.
There was lust.