No One Was Drunk
"This line of questioning is ridiculous and totally unnecessary: Besides, it is exceedingly humiliating. I shall see that you pay dearly for this-invasion of my privacy. Treating me as if I were a common criminal! Do you know who I am? I am Mrs. George D- S- and I have a home in the most exclusive Section of the city. A mansion, really.
"This coat I'm wearing. Sable. It probably cost more than a petty tyrant like you earns in a year. I have my own Jaguar, a station wagon just for shopping, and two-yes, two Continentals. You can't subject a person like that to the offensive third degree through which you're putting me.
"So it's not a third degree. So you don't use third degree. Call it a psychiatric examination if you wish, but I consider it an impertinent and offensive invasion of my privacy. And you'll pay dearly for it.
"Do you know whose yacht that is that was raided? You'll go pale when you hear the name. It had weight in this city-in this country- even in all of Europe. I suggest you crawl under that desk right now, before the roof falls in on you.
"So you've been threatened before? Well, I'm not threatening you. I'm just warning you. The raid on that yacht was entirely a mistake. Oh, I know who engineered it. That little pipaqueak! The very idea! Calling the coast patrol to say we were aground! Ridiculous! Well, yes. The yacht was aground. Somewhat. On a sand shelf. She'd have floated off by morning. In fact, she did.
"And that little pipsqueak, that social upstart, had the audacity to suggest that the patrol- take along a gendarme as there was a drunken orgy going on aboard.
"A drunken orgy! Absurd. No one was drunk. Oh, some of us had had a social drink or two, but no one was what you'd call drunk. Well, maybe Andy C-, but then he's permanently drunk. I don't see why anyone puts up with him, except that he's filthy rich. Certainly he's no good on a party like that. Just drinks until he passes out. And occupies a cabin sleeping it off. A cabin that could be put to far better use, at a party like that.
"A party like that? Well, it was just asocial evening, a gathering of friends with the same interests. What's any party? Are you trying to put me on the defensive? Let's just say it was a party. Aboard a yacht. Quite a magnificent yacht, beautifully fitted out. I understand it cost a fortune. I wish we could afford… Maybe, if George lands that contract, we can get…
"An orgy? Don't be absurd! Of course not. Just a quiet gathering of friends with the same interests…
"I resent that! I don't care what the report says. I had just slipped off my dress so as not to wrinkle it while I took a little nap. A brief rest. Yes, that was it. Just a brief rest.
"So I didn't have any clothes on! Is that criminal? It was a warm night. So I slipped out of my clothes. What's wrong with that?
"Let me see that report! I demand… All right. All right. The police may have seen a man in my cabin. Quite possibly. That would be Earl. Earl J-. Surely you've heard of him. He owns… Well, he probably dropped by to see how I was. Just friendly interest.
"In the buff? What a crude expression! He may have appeared nude, but on the boat most of us wore swimsuits. His could have been quite negligible. And been mistaken for nudity. Certainly you've seen bathing trunks that.
"I deny that! The police couldn't have seen his head between my legs and his penis in my mouth… I deny… Oh, God, how did I ever get into a mess like this? How did I ever get involved with that horrible crowd? They're degenerates! And now I'm one of them! Whore, strumpet, cocksucker!
"Is my mascara running? I must look a mess. Please. Thank you for the handkerchief. Yes, I would like to wash my face… There. I feel better now. Almost human.
"I can even face up to the fact of what I am, what I have become. It's not a pretty story… Well, I suppose so. You must be used to stories that aren't so pretty. Also, telling the story might help to orient myself. Might help me get a new perspective. Perhaps, even, a new life.
"Take a good look at me. How, old would you say I am? Thirty? Thirty-five? You say you never attempt to guess a woman's age? Very smart of you. I'm twenty-six. I look thirty-five without makeup and I feel a hundred. That's what four years of 'playing games' has done to me.
"Oh, understand, I like oral sex. You might say, I'm hooked on it. As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing wrong with oral sex. I like it. I have liked it for years. It's not that. It's the oral club angle that has gotten me down. Being available to any man who wants me. Being a whore at it.
"That's what I am, an oral whore. And my husband is my pimp. Oh, he doesn't do it for cash. That's too crude even for him. He does it for his clients. He's got a lot of really big accounts-now. For which he peddled my cunt. And my cocksucking mouth.
"I'm partly to blame. Maybe wholly to blame. I wanted that house on the Riviera and the Jaguar and the station wagon. The two Continentals are pure swank. But I wanted that sable coat. That represents the J- account. And we got it because I let Earl J- go down on me-and I sucked him off.
"'Oh, I've got no excuses. I needled George for those things-and he found the way to get them. Peddling my cunt and mouth. And I didn't mind. At first. I'd been taking my sex that way for years. Before I ever met George.
"I started on sex when I was in junior high. At about fourteen. Not that I really meant to, as it happens. But every girl is curious about sex. Boys, too, I guess. At that age. Until they've tried it. Then they're usually hooked on it. Sex is easy to get hooked on. Because it's pretty basic, I suppose.
"At fourteen I was pretty well developed, with nice legs. They had quit looking like baseball bats with knobby knees. And I had a real cute little rump. My tits were kind of new to me then and they bothered me some. I never knew quite what to do about them, you know. Hug my books up against me going home, alone at my desk so they wouldn't be noticed, or just let 'em stick out. Sometimes I tried one and sometimes the other. It didn't seem to make much difference. Inside me. I was just so conscious of 'em. And the way my nipples would get hard and stir things up.
"So I was what you might call ripe for what happened. Ellen, my best girl friend, who was also fourteen, and had had 'experiences' with boys, asked me over to her house, to help her baby-sit her kid brother, who was six. She giggled on the phone and said Jim might drop by and if I could come, she'd ask him to bring Al. She knew I sort of liked Al. In fact, I had a crush.on him, but he'd never much noticed me. He played drums with a combo and sang a little, so he had plenty of girls.
"I asked Mom if I could go-only I didn't mention the boys. After all, they might not turn up. So Mom let me go, even if I wasn't going to get paid. I made most of my own money babysitting. Not that we were really poor. There just never seemed to be enough money to go around-for things like blouses and hip-huggers and boots-the things a girl really needs, only parents don't always see it.
"Ellen met me at the door, giggling, and said the boys were already there but we couldn't make any noise because her kid brother would wake up. And he was a pest. Even asleep, he was a pest, because that meant we couldn't dance. And if you can't dance, what is there to do?
"I found out.
"Sex.
"Al was there, slumped on the couch. He looked up, sort of sullen, as if he'd been dragged to something he didn't like and hadn't any use for. He looked real sharp, though, in awning-striped pants and a black leather jacket, even if he didn't ride a motorcycle.
"Ellen grabbed Jim's arm, as if she were afraid I might snatch him-and him I wouldn't have. He was long and gawky, with a big mop of hair not long enough to be hippie, just mop. She introduced me to Al, as if we didn't see each other every day at school. He didn't get up, just patted the couch and said, 'Park it, kid. We'll get around to what for later.'
"Ellen giggled and said, 'Isn't he cute? I'm going to take Jim out and show him something. So you two just sit and chat… '
"And I'll bet she did show him something. Everything she had. Tits, rump, cunt and all.
"That left me in an awkward spot, standing there with my bare face hanging out. What can you say? To a boy. Now, if we'd even had one dance, that would break the ice and things would have gone along naturally, just yakking. Not that I cared so much what boys yakked about, but they're boys, aren't they? And I'm talking to 'em. Maybe, during the dance, letting him feel me up a little. Just enough to get things warmed up but never letting one of 'em get to home plate. Up to then. But what can you do when there's nothing but a boy and a couch. A feeling-up then can lead to all sorts of things.
"So I sat down in the big chair opposite. A real deep chair that's not easy to get out of, and that hikes a miniskirt way up, which I honestly hadn't thought about. I knew it pretty quick, though, when I saw Al looking. And the way he looked. I realized then that I had on my skimpiest panties, meaning to show 'em to Mom as proof I needed some new ones.
"Pulling down the miniskirt would be like pulling down a cellophane window shade-just calling attention to what I knew I was showing. So I just sat there, letting him look. And, to be honest, getting a little hot in my britches because of it.
"Al patted the couch a couple of times, kind of inviting, but I didn't move, some because I was nervous and some because that chair was hard to get out of. Along about then Al grinned. A real meaningful grin. I don't know how I knew it was a meaningful grin or really what it meant, but I knew it and I could make a pretty good guess at what it meant.
"Al got up, slow and sort of stinky, and slouched across to the chair, easing himself down on the arm and grinning down at me. And looking right down my blouse, to my titties. He reached over with one hand and slid it inside my blouse, right on my breast.
"I almost leaped out of the chair then, only I couldn't. I could just give a sort of convulsive wiggle that shook my boobs. I guess it looked like I meant to… I mean, shake them at him. Because he slid down into the chair, shoving me over, still keeping one hand on my tit.
"Oh, it was exciting, all right. And scary. I'd never let a boy actually feel them before. Heat started up in them and spread down my stomach and seemed to center down at my cunt. I tried to wiggle out but we were wedged into that chair and I couldn't. Maybe I didn't wiggle as hard as I should have. And maybe I should have yelled. Only I couldn't. My mouth felt full of hot cotton.
"Al slid his other hand down on my leg, smoothing the inside of my thigh and reaching up, just touching my pussy. I tried to push his hand away but I couldn't get any leverage. Besides, I was beginning to feel weak. And shaking. And very hot. So I stopped and lay back, just letting his hands roam.
"He slid out of the chair and fumbled with my panties until he got them off. I might even have helped some. Then, for a minute or two, he just knelt there, looking right at my cunt and breathing heavy.
"Suddenly he reached for me and draped me over the big, cushiony arm of the chair, my legs hanging over the side and my miniskirt up to my navel, with the rest of me down in the seat of the chair.
"He came around to stand by the arm, between my legs, looking. Then he started feeling me up again, running his fingers right into my cunt until I was gasping for breath. And I needed it. My chest felt so tight I could have worn a three-sizes smaller bra, if I wore a bra.
"He tugged off my miniskirt and opened my blouse, so I was as good as naked, with my tits standing up and my nipples so hard they ached. He played with them for a minute or so, kind of rough, edging in tighter on me and spreading my legs. He looked down at me, questioningly. 'You had your Pill?'
"For a moment I didn't know what he meant. Lots of kids in our school are on pills, pep pills, mostly. So I said, 'I never touch reds.' That's what we called them, 'reds.'
"Al grunted. 'I didn't mean that kind of pill. The Pill. So you won't get a baby. No, you little boobie. I guess you didn't. What did you think this was gonna be? A knitting circle?' Al scrabbled in his pockets and groaned. 'And I ain't got a condom. God damn! And I sure don't mean to fix us up with no kid. Jim's got some… ' He glanced at the closed door of Ellen's room. 'Only I don't think he wants to be interrupted.'
"He looked back at my cunt and my boobies and sighed. 'And I ain't about to give up that nice piece of flesh! So I'll eat it. Eat it up, hair and all.' Not that I had much hair down there. Just a sort of downy fuzz.
"If I could have talked I'd have said, 'Let's quit.' At least, I think I would have. Except that right then I just wanted-well, I wasn't sure what I wanted, but I sure wanted it bad. My whole insides were on fire with the want, with most of the heat right in my cunt. I think I'd have taken on a dog about then. A big dog. Not that I ever have.
"I watched Al slide down to the floor, until his eyes just peeped over my mound. His hands went on playing with my tits but his tongue was sliding along the sides of my thighs and right into my cunt! It hit my clitoris and I really bucked in that chair. I had never felt anything so-well, both scary and exciting.
"Al played with my titties, nipping at my nipples with his fingers, while his mouth clamped down on my pussy and he started sucking. I could feel that suck way up in my stomach. And his tongue was working on my clitoris until I just humped up at him, moaning.
"It seemed to go on forever yet be over awfully quick. Some dam up inside me burst. The relief of that! It was terrific! The most! And Al went on sucking and lapping at the juices I poured down until I was nearly crazy. I was really dizzy from it, just tossing my head and murmuring, 'Please! Please! Please!' Not meaning anything, really.
"Finally Al stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning a little. 'That was very tasty pussy. Virgin cunt, too. Very nice. Verrrry nice. Next time, we'll have a real ball. We'll go all the way.'
"There never was a next time. Al broke his leg trying to ride his big brother's motorcycle and by the time he was out and circulating again, I had graduated from kids like Al. I had a real, full-grown man. And he had forgotten more about making love than Al will ever learn.
"Jerry was a Vietnam veteran, not very tall but real cute in a tough kind of way. He had a kid, a boy about three, and I did some baby-sitting for him. He didn't have a wife. Maybe they were divorced or maybe she was dead-or had run off with some other guy. He never talked about her or had any pictures of her around.
"I liked to baby-sit for him because he had a big color TV set and he'd leave nice snacks for me in the refrigerator. Also, he paid a quarter an hour better than most. With double for after twelve.
"So when he called Mom, I went there this night. Only, when I got there, he looked embarrassed. 'My date stood me up, so I don't need… ' I guess he saw my face fall. I had been counting on his baby-sitting money. 'But it's all right, Ellie. I'll pay you just the same.' He laughed. 'But not overtime.' And reached for his wallet.
"I suppose he saw me eyeing the TV-there was a show on I really wanted to see. This singer, new. And I wanted to see what color eyes he had. You can't tell on black-and-white.
"Jerry grinned. 'And you can watch TV, if you keep it low. I'll be reading.' Which was fine by me. I went to the fridge and got a coke and settled down to watch TV.
"I guess, being alone so much when I watch TV, I settle a little careless, with my legs draped over a chair arm and sort of snuggled in. Jerry had some nice deep chairs for that. And I hadn't been expecting to see him, except as he whisked out the door, so I was dressed for comfort, in my oldest and shortest miniskirt and some very scanty panties.
"I realized it pretty quick when I felt him looking at my legs, and right up 'em, to those scanty panties. You can, you know. Feel somebody looking at you. And tell, maybe, even which part of you, without seeing their eyes. When I looked up Jerry shifted in his chair and looked down quick at his book. But I knew he had been looking at me. And seeing pretty much the whole show.
"Having a grown man look, with me knowing he had looked, made me warm inside. Little quick flashes. I liked it. So I shifted just a little in the chair, so he could have a better view. And if he didn't like the view, he didn't have to look. But he did.
"I caught him at it, and he flushed. He even gulped. 'Young lady, you are flaunting yourself, which is dangerous for you with a man in my position.'
"I grinned at him. 'You could change your position-closer.' And wiggled my rump, as if I was settling deeper in the chair, not really expecting anything. Jerry is cute and all that, but I always thought of him as kind of shy. Nice but shy. Like an older brother, maybe.
"Only he wasn't. He got up and stalked across the room, slow and menacing, looking real tough, as he might have when he was fighting in Vietnam. He caught my legs and lifted 'em.
"And gave me a sound spank on my bottom.
"It hurt. That wasn't any gentle love-tap. It really stung, because there wasn't much to my scanty panties. He dropped my legs and started back across the room. 'Gather up your things and go home.'
"The sting on my bottom brought tears to my eyes and the order to go home made me sniffle. I must have sounded pathetic because he turned back, seeing me cry. He came back to pat my shoulder. 'I'm sorry, kid. I shouldn't have done that. But I get gawddam tired of having dames flaunt their little twats at me, as if it was the most precious item on earth-with a price tag: 'Marriage.' He smoothed his hand over my shoulder. 'Just because I haven't got a wife, every female thinks she can give me-what? Comfort? Somebody to sleep with? A good cook? Most of 'em are lousy cooks. And not much better in bed. Stop that sniffling!'
"He bent down to lift me up and set me in the chair the right way around but I hung on to his neck and buried my nose in his shoulder. Not just because I was losing my best-paying babysitting job but because he had sounded so pathetic and sort of hopeless.
"He patted my shoulder and held on to my rump, saying, 'There, there, Ellie.' And I really bawled. So the first thing I knew, we were both sitting in the chair, me in his lap and he was sort of rocking me and murmuring soothing things. The way be was holding me mashed one of my titties against his chest. And he still had a hand under my rump.
"Things were getting really interesting inside me. The hot flashes were coming faster, especially when I wriggled down so his hand on my rump could get a real feel. And did. His fingers started working, sort of creeping up on my cunt. His hand on my shoulder dropped down a little and slid under my arm and right on to my tit.
"He kept talking, a sort of angry monologue against 'dames.' 'They think they know sex. They don't know a tenth of it. And especially not how I like mine. I've seen so much of it, in Vietnam and here-just lay out flat and get reamed. And when I tell 'em how I'm fed up with that, and how I like my sex, they get their precious little twats right out.'
"I was getting pretty warm and excited, feeling him touch me and I wanted him to keep it up. 'Why? How do you like your sex?'
"He sighed, not really talking to me. Just-bitter. 'Oral. Sucking and being sucked. But I haven't found a one who really… '
"I sat up a little, looking up at him. 'But that's how I like mine.' A lot I knew, based on one experience!
"He glanced down at me, as if he realized for the first time how intimately we were sitting. 'You? You're a kid. What could you know about sex, any kind of sex?'
"I tried to sit up, indignant, but his hand was cupped around my tit. 'I know about sucking! And I like it. Try me!'
"He shivered a little. 'It can't be! It simply can't be! Not a sweet little kid like you. You don't know what you're talking about.' And he started to get up.
"I swung myself around so both tits plastered against his chest and my little rump wriggled provocatively. 'I do know. And I like it. You don't get a baby that way, but you have just as much fun. So-try me.'
"My blouse had pulled out of my miniskirt, and his hand was on my bare skin, feeling hot. I moved back, away from his chest and undid my blouse, so both titties were out, with nipples standing stiff. 'Suck on those first and see if you like it. I will.'
"Very slowly he lowered his head, his eyes watching mine as long as he could. Then his mouth fastened on a tit and his tongue went twirling around the nipple. I arched up, pushing my tit practically down his throat and moaning, it felt so good. Plus, his hand really went to work on my cunt, teasing my clitoris and opening the lips with his fingers.
"The next thing I knew, he was picking me up and carrying me to the big day bed sort of couch, with a bolster back. He set me down very gently, with my cunt almost up against the bolster and my head hanging over the edge. He knelt down by my head, leaning over to kiss my tits while his hands played with my cunt until I was moaning and shaking with want. I let my legs fall open, draping over the bolster, in a big V, so he could get to it easier.
"By that time I was naked. I don't even remember exactly when it happened or which of us did it. Not that it mattered. What did matter was that I was naked and Jerry could see and touch and feel every part of me. He could feel every inch of me, and played on me as if I were an organ, until I was ready to scream at him to start in sucking, so I could get some release. That big release.
"He really worked on me, running his fingers and his tongue all over me, working his head slowly down to my cunt. I was so tense-wonderfully tense and excited that I didn't really notice he had shed his pants and underpants. But there was this great big dong, hanging right over my face, a drop of oily juice dangling from it. He looked down my front, between us. 'Take it in your mouth, Ellie. Please do it now.'
"Then I realized what he had meant, sucking and being sucked. He wanted me to suck on his dong! That big thing! It looked big enough to choke a horse! But I had started this and I was getting a lot of mileage out of his mouth on my cunt. So I reached for it, feeling it quiver in my hand.
"I touched my tongue to the tip and felt that drop slide down my tongue. I tasted it! Sharp and acrid, but good.
"I raised my head and closed my lips around it. With that he leaned down on me, driving my head back and sending his prick deep in my throat. And all the time his tongue and lips were working on my cunt until I thought something would burst.
"He started moving his hips up and down, pumping his dick into my mouth, gradually picking up speed, while he sucked so deep on my cunt I thought he'd pull my eyeballs in.
"Suddenly he moaned and gave my cunt a really deep suck and at the same time slammed his prick so far down my throat it seemed he could lick it at his end. I felt it, that big bulb, as it went past my throat muscles, leaving me trying to gasp for breath. By then he was working it in and out until suddenly he let go. A big pulse swelled his dong, and stuff exploded in my throat, hot, salty stuff. And I pumped stuff at him. I could feel it flooding my stomach and down my cunt.
"He pulled his dong out, slowly. It was already softening up. And I was tasting all that goo he had pumped into me. And loving it. Real male taste. The best taste there is.
"Afterward we cleaned up, laughing and enjoying our being naked together, letting the shower water run over our bodies. I didn't dress until I was ready to go home, way past midnight. Jerry paid me for my 'baby-sitting time' though I felt kind of funny taking it.
"That was my real introduction to oral sex. Jerry and I had pretty regular sessions after that, pretending I was baby-sitting. That lasted until I had to go off to college. At our last session Jerry said to me, half seriously, 'When you get all educated, come back and I'll marry you.'
"I never went back. Because at college I had all the sex I could handle, oral and some regular. And I met George. Through sex, naturally. Mostly oral, but some regular. We really hit it off and got married the day we graduated. Later still, after about three years, George introduced me to the oral sex club…"
Until man climbed the ladder of evolution to the "barterting step," his basic drives had been limited to two rational and indispensable ones: self-preservation and procreation. The subject of this case, Eleanor P-, represents a human being who has long passed that "bartering plateau," who has almost abandoned her two basic drives, supplanting them-or willing to supplant them-by the somewhat irrational pursuit of wealth. This is not to suggest that one has no need for a certain amount of cash or property to be able to fulfill one's basic drives; it is rather to show that once a person ceases to consider his needs and begins to concentrate mono-maniacally on his wants, he is more than likely going to ignore his basic drives.
Eleanor P- is a person whose values are centered around her sable coat, her Jaguar, her station wagon, her two Continentals, and her husband's accounts that make the feeding of her greed possible. Her sexuality is a commodity which she uses by renting it out to whoever might bring more cash into her and her husband's coffers. She is, in fact, a prostitute; her husband, George, is a pimp. They are both members of the upper crust of society and are extremely, and hypocritically, proud of their status.
Sexually, they may be considered to be hedonists, although not in the usual sense of the word. They are not seekers of pleasure per se; they are rather exploiters of pleasure motivated by greed. As one reads the subject's narrative, one is convinced that the sexual orgies in which Eleanor P- and her husband participated were, to them, a means to an end, and more work than pleasure.
It is difficult to determine without additional information on the subject whether Eleanor's preference for oral sex is a deep-seated neurotic drive or not. In the course of her narrative she brings up the matter of her barrenness. If she is indeed suffering from an inability to conceive, then there is really no reason for her not to engage in regular coital activities; if she is not, then the chances are that she simply does not want to take the risk of motherhood; although this type of reasoning on her part would be odd, considering the modern methods of birth control that are available.
If one is to believe Eleanor's narrative, she is either almost exclusively orally oriented or she is content, and nothing more, with oral sex, especially since most of the sexual activity she engages in is more in the course of business than emotional involvement It is possible that her juvenile sexual encounter with Al, an exclusively oral one, had impressed her strongly enough so that in subsequent sexual engagements she veered toward oral-genital activity and disregarded genital intercourse because she had found the first both pleasurable and void of the risks of pregnancy. Her subsequent seduction of Jerry, the man she had come to baby-sit for, reveals the acuteness of her sexual urge; her eventual marriage to George appears to have been more a marriage of convenience-the subject must have seen him from the very beginning as an instrument she could use for the material betterment of her own position-and nothing more. It is highly doubtful that "love" ever entered the picture.
There is a theory about sex and love that says the two must be intermeshed in intimate relations for those relations to be satisfactory. Passion, according to this theory, is a blend of both elements, and if passion is missing when one person "makes love" to another, then he will probably acutely feel the lack, and search elsewhere, probably with ill luck, for the thing that will fill that lack. Thus comes promiscuity, Casual sex, and a dalliance with the catalogue of sexual deviations.
One writer who agrees with this general premise is psychologist Rob May, who, in his book Love and Will, discusses sex that had no deep feeling behind it. He believes that for too many of us sex has become a mere brief escape from our fears, rather than a positive, passionate activity.
It is possible to have sexual intercourse without any particular anxiety. But in casual sex, we shut out, by definition, our eros-that is, we relinquish passion in favor of mere sensation; we shut out the imaginative, personal significance of the act. If we can have sex without love, we assume that we escape the daimonic anxiety that is an inseparable part of human love. But if, further, we use sexual activity itself as an escape from the commitments of eros, we may hope to gain an airtight defense against anxiety. Passion and sensual pleasure have been displaced by the reach for identity and security. Sex has been reduced to an anxiety-allaying strategy.
When Eleanor P- agreed to go along with her husband in his scheme to obtain the large J- account, she was well aware that the scheme was a sexual one. She knew that she would have to, in fact, prostitute herself, and she knew that her husband knew of this-more, he had set it up. Consequently, as far as the subject and her husband's marriage went, they were going to reduce sex to what Rollo May above calls "an anxiety-allaying strategy."
What was the anxiety that was at the bottom of it all?
In the case of the subject. it was obviously a dread at the thought of not so much losing the comforts of life-since there was no such threat-but rather a pathological fear that failure of a continuous financial growth was tantamount to a loss of status in the eyes of the other scramblers for wealth. In the case of Eleanor's husband, George, the anxiety could very well have been a double-edged one. To begin with, he had the fear of less of status as was the case with his wife; second, he had the fear of losing his wife, not so much because he felt any passionate love for her but because she-was in fact a convenient instrument that he could Count on using to maintain and constantly improve his financial and social position in the eyes of his social status-climbing competitors.
Finally, in answer to the question of why the so-called "club" in which Eleanor and George P- found themselves involved was almost exclusively maintained on oral-genital activity, rather than on a balanced and variegated sexual activity that is more generally common in such group-sex situations, it can be postulated that it was not because everyone there was an oral deviate, i.e., was arrested at the Freudian "oral phase" of sexual maturation. It was rather because oral-genital activity was found to be both gratifying to the participants and free of potential complications-such as pregnancies, paternity suits, and inevitable subsequent scandals. The entire attitude of the club members might very well have been: use anyone you can, enjoy yourself, make the most of every situation that is presented, but take no chances. Cater, in other words, to your competitor's lower instincts and he will not get away from you.
"Until I met Jerry, I hadn't known there were men like that. Oh, Al doesn't count. He was just a kid looking for kicks. No, I mean men who really enjoy their sex orally, most of the time. For some reason, they don't want to slam a dong into a female's cunt. And get-or seem to get-just as much of a bang out of sucking and being sucked.
"The 'why' of it gets me. Oral sex is lots more trouble than lying on top of a girl and banging away. And there's more of that sort of sex available, So-why? Because Momma was a female and they don't want to 'hurt' Momma, psychologically, by going into a woman's cunt? Or are they, subconsciously, trying to humiliate every female because they hated Momma?
"Anyway, that's for headshrinkers like you to figure out. And I guess there are almost as many different reasons as there are men who go for oral sex.
"Girls I can understand. They want sex but they don't want a baby, so they take their sex orally. Some in the anus. It didn't happen to me that way. I mean, I hadn't even thought about a baby. Al showed me a way to get kicks and Jerry improved on it. I got orally oriented young. Oh, I tried 'regular' sex-at college, once in a while. And with George. But I-like oral sex better. I seem to get a double dose that way-in my-cunt and in my throat.
"Sexually George and I hit it off fine. Oh, when we first got married we tried 'regular' sex because we thought we wanted a baby. Then the doctors told me I couldn't have one. Three of 'em. I'll believe three doctors. One can be wrong, but it's not likely three are wrong in the same direction.
"So George and I gave, up on the idea of a baby, except that maybe, when we had more money, we might adopt one. Oh, we weren't dirt poor. George graduated top of his class and had his pick of accounting jobs, and they pay pretty well. But of course, our income didn't begin to match those of our clients, with whom we had to go out socially. Like, it was sometimes a bind to take four people to a really top restaurant. We might eat beans for a week afterward.
"So I urged George to set up on his own. Through some frat brothers, if he pressured a. little, he could get some nice fat accounts. Nothing tremendous but good solid accounts. We still have most of 'em. And George was making money, goad money. And I was spending it.
"When you've been on short rations most of your life-as I said, we weren't poor at home, just skimpy with money-a little taste of luxury is a heady drink. I could dress well. But the wives of some of these guys wore clothes that made me look like bargain basement, or 'did your mother really make that dress?' It was humiliating.
"So I nagged. Well, not quite that, maybe, but I certainly hinted pretty strongly that we could use more money, and there were big accounts out there for the grabbing. Really big. The multimillion-dollar accounts, on which the fees are really lush.
"George came home one evening, all excited. He 'almost' had the P- P- account, with possibly Old Man J-'s personal account.
"George sprawled in our Bares-Lounger and stared down at the carpet, not willing to look at me. 'There's just one snag, baby. He wants to meet you.'
"I got really huffy at that. 'Well, I'm no frump. With one good dress I might even be able to get by.'
"George waved that away, still looking at the carpet. 'That isn't it, baby. We could even run to a Schiaparelli as a gamble on this. It's big… The trouble is-Old Man J-. He's got this club.'
"That sounded interesting, so I asked, 'Private?'
"George nodded. 'Very. In fact, it's a very special kind of club. For oral sex. He's hooked on it and he likes young women. Not just bought stuff. Hell, he could buy half the cunt in the county and not miss the money. He likes what he calls "top drawer" Very private vintage.'
"I stared at George. 'George P-, are you trying to tell me that if I let this old goat go down on me-and me on him, then we could get that account? And just because I was a little free and easy in college, you think… How much would it be worth to us"
"George named a figure that took my breath away and then added, 'There are other men there with really big accounts.' He tried to laugh. 'With three or four of those, I'd have to hire an accountant, just to figure my income tax.' He started to heave himself out of the chair. 'Forget it, kid. Forget it. I must have been nuts even to think-but you're always talking about dresses and cars and stuff…
"He was half out of the chair before I could speak, for thinking about that Jaguar and the Schiaparelli and… 'George, would you- mind? If I did it, I mean?'
"His eyes opened wide as he stared at me. 'You mean-you'd do it?' He drew a deep breath, shuddering. 'No, kid. I wouldn't mind.' He even grinned. 'Don't forget. I'd belong to the club, too, getting in my licks.'
"So we joined the club, after a flurry of buying. It's not just a Schiaparelli you buy, it's the accessories, even to perfume especially blended to your body chemistry-or so they tell you. And I went down to take another look at that Jaguar. I know a Bentley-Rolls is supposed to be swankier but there's something about that Jaguar that got me.
"It got me into this mess I'm in now.
"The first 'meeting' of the club we went to wasn't aboard that undersized ocean liner that was raided. That belongs to the really big Mister Big. This was just a yacht. Oh, it was luxurious enough.
"The salon was beautifully decorated, and there were six or seven staterooms, beside the master stateroom, which belonged to Old Man J-. Hearing him referred to that way, I expected an old man. Instead, he was tall and, except for a broken nose, good-looking. And only about forty, maybe forty-five. With streaks of gray at his temples.
"I guess I had expected something crude, like those college fraternity brawls. Grab a girl and whisk her off to a bed. Not at the club.
"It was like a movie about Monte Carlo. Very smooth and swank. Earl J- greeted each of us as we came aboard, dressed in a white dinner jacket. We went into this salon and had cocktails, while I eyed the other females. There were six couples and all the women were just a shade older than me and very smooth.
"The talk was light, maybe a little feverish, but that could have been just my reaction. Then we went in to dinner. I don't really remember what it was because I was beginning to get nervous. Earl J- kept shifting his eyes to me and touching his wineglass, as if that were a private signal. It wasn't, as I found out. Just a mannerism. Afterward we danced on the afterdeck, to a three-piece combo.
"Earl J- kept coming back to dance with me, deserting a very smooth, very sophisticated number whom he seemed to be shoving off on George. Earl danced very smoothly but very close, his fingers against my bare back playing a little soundless tune. It could have been any really swank party, up to the time Earl said, very softly, 'May I show you other parts of the boat? My own stateroom is most interesting. I have some quite unique pieces there.' And almost without waiting for an answer, danced me to a companionway, helping me down.
"I had a moment of real panic, then. It was all just a little too smooth, I guess. I gave one panic-stricken look at George, but he was concentrating on the sophisticated number, maybe deliberately, so he wouldn't see me go off with Earl.
"His stateroom was unique, with a single great circular bed and the walls and ceiling all mirrors. Earl kissed my shoulder as we went in, the first real indication that this wasn't just a pleasant meeting aboard a boat. I know I shivered.
"Earl asked if the room wasn't warm enough. Actually it was a little stuffy with heat, and I said so. He grinned then and said, 'Perhaps you'd like to slip off that lovely gown and get into something lighter.' He opened a door in the mirrored wall, revealing a whole rainbow of negligees, enough to take my breath away. Only I guessed it was pretty much stage dressing.
"Earl was already working at the single shoulder strap-and from there on the action might have been back at Jerry's or in the frat house.
"I helped him with the strap and let my gown, my lovely first Schiaparelli, drop, exposing my tits. Earl bent down and kissed first one and then the other, tonguing my nipples, until I wasn't nervous anymore. Just anxious to get-things going. Kissing my tits had started me getting hot.
"I wiggled that gown over my hips and stepped out of it, naked. A good Schiaparelli doesn't need panties or bras. They're built into the gown.
"So I was naked. In front of a strange man for the first time in nearly four years, since I'd married George.
"Earl stepped back, admiring me. And I could see myself repeated a hundred times over in the mirrored walls. As if they were screaming 'Naked! Naked! Naked!' And I was liking it.
"Excitement was building in me, just seeing myself naked. And knowing a man was looking at me. There was no way of missing that. Earl was reflected hundreds of times, too. I could see him in the mirrored walls reaching for me and then feel his hands at my waist, sliding up to cup my tits, his thumbs teasing my nipples.
"It was like being made Jove to by an army, all those men reaching for me, feeling my tits and coming close, until I could feel the bulge in his trousers. Oh, I can understand the cleverness of the mirrored walls. They sort of magnified the mood, multiplied it by a hundred times or so. A girl could hardly put up a fight against hundreds of men-and her own heightened excitement. Wow, what they'd do to a timid virgin! Before she could say 'No!' she'd be pregnant. If Earl had liked his sex 'regular.'
"He knelt in front of me, running his tongue down my body, pausing to twirl it in my navel, and on down to the creases between pelvis and legs, sliding it across my mound and back, then sliding his tongue, which seemed hot and pointed, right into my slit. All the time his hands played with my tits.
"By then I was moaning and writhing, thrusting my pelvis against his mouth, feeling hot flashes dart from nipples to cunt, igniting fires deep inside. His tongue found my clitoris and teased it, sending new shock waves through me, so that my knees started to buckle.
"Earl picked me up, holding me easily, cradled in his arms, with one hand on a breast, the other sliding up and around my ass, between my legs, just barely touching my cunt.
"He swung me around and on to that big circular bed and knelt between my legs, his mouth on my cunt. I could look straight up and see my whole body reflected in the mirrored ceiling. What a gimmick!
"I could see his dark head between my legs and watch his hands creep up my body in exciting play, his fingers crooked so that his nails lightly raked my skin, delicious teasing as they neared my breasts, fastened on them and started a gentle, rhythmic squeezing. I turned a scream into a soft moan and thrust my pelvis at his mouth, feeling then. Not bothering to look.
"He gave up on my breasts after a few moments but kept his mouth on my cunt, sucking and darting that hot, pointed tongue deep inside, drawing it out and teasing my clitoris. All that time he was undressing, sliding out of his trousers and shirt.
"I could have watched him do it, but I had closed my eyes tight in ecstasy, moaning and writhing. I felt him take his mouth away and I opened my eyes. He was standing between my legs, his dong swollen and stiff. And I saw that repeated hundreds of times in the mirrors.
"He moved around the circular bed, keeping a hand on one breast until he was by my head, so that I could see that prick of his standing rigid, his balls taut in their sac. He bent down, kissing each tit, and moved on down my body, his tongue teasing as it went. Until his mouth fastened on my cunt again and his prick was stabbing toward my mouth, a drop of juice glittering on it.
"I reached up and curled a hand around that wonderful big prick of his, guiding it into my mouth, reaching up with my tongue to get that first delicious drop of man-juice. I closed my lips over his blue-purple bulb and began to suck, with the lingering taste of his man-juice in my mouth.
"With Earl bobbing his head rhythmically at my cunt and thrusting deep inside with his hot, pointed tongue, I was really going to town. He began moving his pelvis in and out, thrusting his pecker deeper and deeper into my throat, while little drops of his man-juice seeped through, trickling into my throat, tasting divine.
"Then he started some really heavy pumping with his head and faster twirling in my cunt with his tongue. I knew it meant he was about to come. I reached up and grabbed his ass, pulling my head and mouth as far up on his dong as I could, moving it in and out with little jerky nods. At the same time I was swirling my tongue around and over that big stick of his, getting the deep, satisfactory feel of it in my mouth, but waiting, anticipating the moment when, his prick would burst its juices into my mouth.
"I knew it was coming. I could feel it in the faster rhythm of his tongue and mouth and in the way he jabbed with his pelvis at my throat. Suddenly he drew his prick back, almost out of my mouth, and then seemed to drop his whole weight on my face, shaking and shuddering as his dong swelled and pulsed and shot his load. Way deep in, so that I could feel it with the muscles in my throat as his load went through his prick. And then that rich, acrid, chokey taste flooded my throat and mouth. Marvelous! Delicious.
"We lay like that for a long moment, his mouth still on my cunt and his dwindling prick still part-way in my mouth. He licked and sucked at the juices I had poured down in that marvelous moment of release and I licked at his dong for more taste of that wonderful man-juice.
"When he finally rolled off, dragging his prick from my mouth and lifting his head from my cunt, I could look up again at the mirrored ceiling. God, I was a mess! My beautiful hairdo, on which I had spent nearly forty dollars, was knocked awry. One false eyelash was gone, giving my face a lopsided look, and my mouth was smeared and slopped with his goo. My cunt was open and raw-looking and my muff wet with his slobber.
"Mirrors ought to be turned off right after a sex act. They make things exciting in the beginning but, lord, are they merciless on a girl afterward. And Earl, with his face smeared and his eyes baggy and bloated-looking, wasn't any prize, either. What's more, in that mirror-walled room, there wasn't any way I could turn to escape the images.
"Things were better when he took me into a really functional but fantastic bathroom-a 'head' he called it, the nautical term. The shower, and playing together in it, restored me somewhat. I had to forget that forty-dollar hairdo and just run a comb through it, letting my hair fall in its natural waves. It's all right, but not very sophisticated.
"Seated at the dressing table, still naked, I repaired some of the damage while Earl stood behind me, studying my breasts and just lightly touching my back. 'That was delightful, my dear. Delightful. You are a very accomplished young lady. George is a very lucky man. Now, run along. And ask Laurette to come to my cabin, will you? She's probably with George. Oh, and don't bother with clothes. We don't, while on board. In the morning I'll see that you have a sports outfit suitable for going ashore.' He patted my rump and shooed me out into the corridor, naked.
"He was right. About nobody wearing clothes. I suppose the crew did, but I didn't see any of them. There was a sort of general swap going on, people moving from cabin to cabin in a kind of sexual musical chairs. I found Laurette all right, looking just as sophisticated naked as she did with clothes on. But she wasn't with George. She was just sitting in the lounge, smoking. I told her what Earl had said. She nodded, put out her cigarette and wandered off, her buttocks swiveling.
"I didn't find George, but a tall, lanky man with a long, limp dong caught my arm, tugging me into a cabin. 'This is swap time-and look what I drew! The little new prize! You are lovely, my dear. You should never wear clothes, not even that charming number you had on earlier.' He slid a hand under my arm and pressed it against one of my tits. 'Lovely, lovely.' And his long, thin dong was already beginning to rise. Feebly at first but gaining strength.
"There were only two mirrors in that cabin, but very strategically placed, practically at right angles, so I could see several of us in reflections. And the sight of his rising dong triggered an electric response in me.
"Jake may not have been as suave as Earl but he had a longer dong that went deeper into my throat, and his mouth, seeming big and slack, could cover my whole cunt and work up a real suck. So our climax was pretty good. Really good.
"After we washed up, there was a sort of meeting in the lounge. A curiously decorous meeting, considering no one had a stitch of clothes on. Earl announced that we'd draw for partners, and passed around a cut-glass bowl with men's names in it. Each woman drew one. I know one girl looked at her slip and pouted. 'I drew my own husband!'
"Earl just laughed. 'Better luck next time. Or swap with one of the others.' Laurette offered to swap slips but the girl looked at her for a moment and then drew back her slip. 'It might be fun, at that. Novel, anyway, having my own husband.' But there was a spark of jealousy showing.
"I drew someone named 'Cass' who turned out to be executive director of a very good account, which we still have. He was a jolly, beaming man with just a shade too much stomach.
"We moved around to pair off and have a round of drinks. There was a good bit of surreptitious peering but no pawing. The 'meeting' was very proper, even with everybody in the nude. I noticed George trying to catch my eye and grinning sheepishly, but I ignored him. This wasn't the time for subtle marital signals.
"Cass led me into a cabin that had three mirrors, all very interestingly interreflecting. But Cass turned the lights down so low it was difficult to see anything in them. 'I know I'm just a pudgy little man, but I don't want to be reminded of it. Not when I'm with a beautiful woman, certainly.'
"He wasn't very adept, either. He tried too hard, compensating for his pudginess. Still, I got a real kick out of him, even though, at one point, he nearly smothered me with his stomach. It must have been nearly three o'clock when we finished up, with Cass practically gurgling over how wonderful I was and we must do it again some time.
"After that it was a sort of free-for-all. Any time a girl stepped out of a cabin, she was available for grabs. I got grabbed three more times that night and had one really wonderful time. George, however, pooped out early and was sleeping it off in Laurette's cabin.
"Six times! Sucked and sucking! That may not have beat the old fraternity record-I think one girl is supposed to have taken on ten or maybe it was twelve boys one night, but most of that was 'regular' sex, just lying on her back and letting them ream her. I understand she ate peanuts through most of it.
"It was glorious! I loved it. And don't think I didn't. I'm oriented to oral sex. I like feeling a man's mouth and tongue playing with my cunt and I enjoy the ram and ream of a prick in my throat, with the big, gooey gob of come plunging down me and the hot, acrid taste of it. Real man-taste. Somehow, it's more satisfying than being reamed in the cunt.
"That way, a girl just lies there and takes it, until tension builds. Then she maybe wraps her legs around his and kicks her heels a few times in his ass-and boom! It's over. I like my way better.
"Oh, I like oral sex. I don't really know if it's something in the way I'm built-which could be-or whether it's because of my first experiences with sex-Al and then Jerry.
"I know I don't want to be 'cured' of it. Or reoriented, or whatever you headshrinkers call it. I like it the way it is. Only I don't care too much about this oral sex club. In fact, I've had it. And once I'm out of this mess, I'm quitting. I'm through being an oral whore-and getting paid off in nice, fat accounts.
"Oh, I expect it will cost us several. Probably most of 'em, since that's how we got the bulk of them-peddling me to the top men. But I've been poor, and I can be again. Of course, rich is nicer. I'm going to hate giving up that house. And the Jaguar. And all those lovely clothes.
"In fact, I wouldn't mind going to the club once in a while-but when I want to. I don't like being on call. It's too much like being a whore. Which I am, of course.
"An oral club can be interesting. Imagine, having five or six men go down on you man evening. And sucking that many cocks. Delicious! In a way, I'll hate giving all that up. It's the way I am. The way they are. They like their sex special. And so do I. But I like giving it away -for free. Not just because some potbellied old coot owns a lush account…
Although Eleanor P- attempts in her last few words to convince the analyst, and herself, that she is not a "play for pay" girl, her past life-style proves her to be unconvincing.
The chances are she will continue in the same vein until she will no longer be able to sell herself, at which time she will lose both her status cum riches and her husband.