Funny thing. Tiptoeing away from the bedroom, I was struck by a new introspective thought, Making love to that fat woman had been sheer horror at the time, but now that it was over I felt only pride. A rather insane kind of pride, no doubt, but just turning in a good report to Zoe made all that agony worthwhile… not that I was anxious to go through it again.
"Kid?"
"Oh, you're awake."
"How did it go?"
"Fine for Blanche. Awful for me."
"What's she doing now?"
"Sleeping. Out cold."
"You must have done a real job on her, honey. But was it really so awful for you?"
"Uh-huh. Oh, maybe not. I don't know. I, I'd rather not talk about it now."
"Okay. I understand." Zoe flipped the negligee off, her body shifting on the couch languorously. "She is kind of fat and ugly, I guess. But I'm not. And aren't you glad?"
"You're beautiful."
Her naked hips moved provocatively. "Then come, darling, let me help you forget your nasty experience. It'll be good for you."
I glided close, terribly aware of how right she was. Zoe was lovely, a lovely woman quite aside from her goddess status. Nice and clean and perfumed. Not fat, just voluptuous. In her embrace I could wash away any bitter memory.
True, I was used to telling her how beautiful she was. And used to showing her. All part of the ritual, our own private ritual. I had done it so often. But this time as her legs angled up and open to receive me, my response wasn't just a conditioned reflex. It wasn't automatic, it was real. With this unique female I felt safe and snug and sheltered and very much in love. Even a little bit grateful…
"Aren't you glad, Dana? Aren't you glad it's me?" Then, a long and delicious moment later, "Mmm, darling, you are glad."
"I love you."
"Hmm. I wonder. Do you love me enough?"
"Enough? Enough for what?"
"Darling, listen. I've got a little confession to make. Promise you won't get mad?"
"A confession? How can I promise if, oh, all right, go ahead and confess. I could never be angry with you anyway. I promise. What's on your mind?"
"Well… "
"Hey, is this going to take very long? If so, I can listen just as respectfully with a lovely mouthful."
"Oooh, sexy! Sexy little cuntlapper. Okay, I'll make it short tonight and _we can chew on it tomorrow."
"I'm already chewing."
"So I notice. Be still now. Kid? I played a little trick on you awhile ago. Blanche Fuller has connections with a lot of rich dykes, that's why I asked you to be nice to her. I'm definitely going into the business."
“I see. And what if she asks for me again?"
“No dice. Unless she's willing to pay the price. One freebie is all that old bag gets, don't worry."
"I'd say one is too much. She called me a whore. You really ought to charge her for tonight."
"Yeah. Maybe you're right. Wouldn't that be something? No freebies for nobody. Tell you what, kiddo, I'll put a little pressure on tomorrow and con her out of some money for you. See how easy it is? You come for a visit and already you're getting rich. But never mind the money now, let's get to the visit. No more confessions, just lots of love from my lovin' baby. Eat me, you sexy little slut, suck my cunt, suck it good."
Her perfume had worn off. She smelled of woman. For a moment I was reminded of fat Blanche in there, the suffocating odor of her sweaty skin. But this wasn't a tub of lard, this was my adored goddess, the sexiest cunt in the world! And she still meant everything to me even though I had just heard her talk about selling my body to a lesbian. With more to come. More lesbians, more sales, more money rolling in…
The smell didn't matter now. Bathed or not, perfumed or not, I just didn't care. She smelled of Zoe. And I loved it. I loved wallowing in the musky essence of her flesh. I loved sucking her cunt and listening to all that noise up there, all that sighing and moaning; it drove me wild now, even more than usual. I lavished all kinds of mouth caresses on her, sucking the start of her climax right to the surface. It worked, too, hitting her with a great big bang, oh yes, it sure worked just fine. For her.
But not for me. It just wasn't there! She groaned once and then collapsed. I tried to go on, hoping for the release my body craved. The release I had grown accustomed to, where was it, what happened to the big beautiful thrill?
"Kid… "
"Mmm?"
"Stop."
"Hmmm?"
"No more, darling."
"Uh-huh."
"Didn't you hear me? Dana!"
"Please… "
Silence. Thick silence. I attacked her moist flesh. The sensitive spots, the tiny nerve centers that she had taught me were so important. If I could just keep this up she would get excited again and then maybe…
"Hey! What? Oh shit, I was almost asleep. Must you keep on like that, darling?" Her body folded in drowsy dismissal. "But I do owe you something, I guess. Go ahead if you like, but don't expect any help from me. I'm sleepy, so sleepy… "
It was an all-night invitation, the one I had hoped for earlier. I turned it down, though. All night and into next week, it still wasn't going to do me much good. I didn't feel like a lesbian anymore. And certainly not a lesbian whore. Let fat Blanche have her freebie; I was out of business as of this minute. Time to get out of this room, too. Out of the apartment. Out onto the street where some kindly cabdriver might, for a small fee, condescend to take me where I wanted to go. Where I might even spend the rest of my life. Oh no, not in a hotel; wasn't there a great big old mansion out in Denver? But to the hotel first, of course, and without wasting a phone call, dear old Jerome wouldn't mind. After all, I still hadn't answered him and he had been absolutely sweet about not pestering me. Take all the time you need, darling. Which was just time enough to kick the habit, the lovely lesbian habit that wasn't so lovely anymore. Hooray! And off to Jerome's hotel now; what blushing young maiden would even dream of accepting a marriage proposal over the telephone?
And so Jerome and I were married and lived happily ever after. Well, no, not quite. But we didn't do badly either. I got a little restless after a while, a little bored with my sex life. In bed my husband was a perfect gentleman and an accomplished nibbler, but a steady diet of anything can get to be a drag, and pretty soon the excitement was missing. Out of bed he was the dearest and sweetest of men, though, a perfect husband, much too fine to cheat on, and I avoided the sly young studs of Denver society and remained true to my marital vows. I just couldn't hurt the guy.
Only it was hurting me, naturally, and after due deliberation I finally came up with an idea that sounded just silly enough to work. What if it turned out that both of us were at least mildly interested in lesbians and such? A lot of men are like that; why not my Jerome? Wouldn't it be fun to toy with the idea of a threesome? Or if it went smoothly enough, I might even hire a cute young lezzie as a servant in the house, my very personal maid; wouldn't that be a kick?
Great idea. Only I got cold feet and just couldn't figure out a way to broach it to Jerome. Not without confessing my own lesbian past, anyway, and that-was taboo. I was willing to confess my "interest" and try to intrigue him in that direction, no more. But I was even dubious about going that far without some favorable sign, afraid that it might shock him and weaken our marriage. What I needed was someone with more knowledge on the subject, someone who could show me how to go about it…
Someone like Zoe Madrigal, naturally.
I accompanied my husband on his next New York business trip, ostensibly on a shopping spree but pretty keyed-up about this secret project of mine. Only I wound up doing a lot of shopping, as luck would have it, my old friend Zoe had gotten into a minor hassle with the law and was now living outside the country, beyond the reach of the long arm. I got most of the information, along with her phone number down there south of the border-just in case!, from our old madam. (Who missed us both very much; the girls today are all dope addicts, so undependable!) Anyway, the trip was a howling failure and I went back to Denver exasperated.
Exasperated but not defeated. Didn't the company have an office in Mexico City? And couldn't we make a holiday out of the next business trip there? Oh, it would be fun to spend some time in one of those wicked towns; I was just dying to see Tijuana.
Okay, so I was hoodwinking Jerome all that time, getting the journey organized oh-so-casually, but it was only for his own good. For the good of our marriage. Better yet, I could safely introduce Zoe as an old friend in Tijuana, then she could talk to him in person and size up the general prospects. And so off we went, bag and baggage, Mr. and Mrs. Jerome Ackroyd, typical Yankee tourists in search of sin and such. Some of which we found in the Blue Grotto, just enough to whet a true sinner's appetite. Although I was fast becoming convinced that my husband just didn't have the prerequisite sinful nature to begin with. Maybe I would do better dropping the scheme and starting from scratch.
Still, after coming this far, if I didn't try to get in touch with Zoe it would be a sign of weakness. Not that I was afraid of her, really, but my nerves did get a bit edgy once we got this close-not paranoid, just apprehensive. Which was why even the comparatively tame Blue Grotto had looked like a hangout for junkies and rapists and TV repairmen last night. For a while, at least, until I glanced around and saw all those other tourists peering at us in that same furtive way. Edgy or not, though, I couldn't chicken out on that phone call.
I rang her in the afternoon while Jerome was napping and got lucky the very first buzz. Zoe was overjoyed to hear from me after all this time; and of course we ought to get together as soon as possible. I gave her only a brief rundown on the plan to "corrupt" my husband, figuring on a more thorough airing later on; and could we all meet for a drink tonight?
Fine. Except that she wasn't free until late; wouldn't it be best if she just met us someplace? I suggested the Blue Grotto for no reason but its familiarity, and perhaps Jerome would feel complimented by my corroboration of his choice of nightspots. Anyway, we left it like that and I began getting nervous again. Only I didn't know just how much I had to be nervous about!
Late in the afternoon Jerome got a wire from his Mexico City office, things were in a mess there and could he come for a few days right away and finish his vacation later? He could, of course, but would probably be working day and night, so why didn't I remain here in Tijuana and see the sights till he got back? See the sights, but stay out of trouble, little girl. Oh shit, if he only knew! I had seen myself face to face in the Blue Grotto last night, my lesbian self, and the secret was becoming an awfully heavy burden, too heavy for one small wife to bear.
Once again I almost chickened out. Almost but not quite. Zoe and I hugged and kissed like old friends and then sat down and watched the show. With plenty of booze, natch. She didn't tell me what business she was in down here. Nor did I get around to any lengthy discussion of my husband. No, we just sat there and got drunk and felt each other up under the table and fell in love all over again. Just like that. Maybe it was the influence of the strippers that got me so darn sexy; Zoe knew them all by name and described their unseen talents to me during each act. Pretty soon I got darn near hot enough to duck under the table myself. Fingers were okay, but my mouth was parched for a sip of cunt, the genuine stuff. And I realized how much excitement had passed me by in the snug security of my marriage. Too much. A young kid like me?
"Zoe, I just decided something. I'm going to divorce Jerome and come live with you."
"Don't be a goddam fool. He's got money, hasn't he? And you'll get a chunk of it some day, right?"
"Uh-huh. A great big chunk."
"How's his health?"
"So-so. I think he's got some kind of heart condition."
"Kid? And you want to walk out on that? You only hit the jackpot once, baby, stick with this one. That's good advice."
"I, I suppose so. But never seeing you or hearing from you, "
“The hell you say. You'll be hearing from me plenty. And maybe seeing me, too, if it can be arranged. I'm on your side from now on, sweetie. I don't have that many rich friends, you know. Or rich lovers, that's for sure. Only you. And I'm going to wait it out with you, year by year. Or maybe just month by month, if we can find some way to speed things up a little."
I knew what she meant. That was all we said about it, but we both understood. It felt pretty weird to be sitting so calmly after such a bombshell. The murder of my own husband? Zoe was telling me about one of the strippers, the tall blonde, a German girl named Lorelei. She had a tongue that stretched a half inch beyond any other among the local lesbian belles; would I like to go backstage and meet her? My mind was still shaking after the bombshell and I just shrugged and dug a little deeper into the nice softness under the table. That helped. It helped even more when I pulled my hand out and stuck those nice cunty-wet fingers in my mouth and licked them clean. My mind was crisp and clear now; I knew exactly where I stood.
"Tastes better than ever."
"Yeah? Glad to have your expert opinion, kid."
"Darling, listen. You know what's going to happen when I get rich? The first thing I'm going to do? Buy you a ring, the biggest ruby ring in the world."
"It won't have to be that big. Just big enough. But if it comes from you… well… "
"Hmm?"
"Have it made up as a toe-ring. Yeah. And then you can go down on your knees and put it on me yourself."
"Hush. You'll have me creaming in my panties."
"Hey, let's have a party tonight. We'll invite the strippers, they're always great fun. The young redhead, Estrellita, that's her name, the one that bounces around like a cheerleader, she's got the tiniest cunt this side of the border. Cutest little thing, tight enough to squeeze your tongue, you know?"
"I like Pilar best."
"Spoken like a true cuntlapper. You've got good taste, kiddo. Come on, let's go backstage now and you can compliment Pilar yourself, she'll just love it. Vain bitch. And we'll see if they want to swing at a party later."
"Oh. Do you think we ought to, "
"Besides, the dressing room toilet is cleaner and more private than the public one. And believe me, I gotta go. Come on, wiggle your pretty ass, the least you can do is keep me company."
I knew only too well what that innocent remark meant. But I was already up and on my feet and wiggling my ass, no longer just a mere tourist in this sin-bin. About to meet the magnificent Pilar. And gorgeous Lorelei and little Estrellita with the cute cunt and that plump one, the peasant with the big tits, Carmen; oh shit, it was fun to get out of the tourist crowd. Backstage at the Blue Grotto, imagine! I only hoped the dressing room toilet was big enough for two. But of course it could be if Zoe had suggested the idea…
Just hidden from the audience, she swung around and stared into my eyes. Then she smiled slyly and I felt a hot-and-cold thrill streak through me as her words warmed my ear:
"When it happens, you know?, I'll have a little gift for you, too. No ruby, nothing elaborate. Just a pretty silver chain for your wrists."