The heat lapped at their sun-soaked skin as the trio sat most of the morning on the patio, sipping cool drinks and occasionally diving into the refreshing pool.
Gwen lay in the chaise lounge, her hair spilled over her shoulders, her eyes shaded with sunglasses, the cool, perspiring bottom of the glass forming a wet ring on her slim tummy, one knee cocked up.
Music from the intercom wafted out into the warm afternoon air, disappearing through the breaths of hot air that exhaled on them from the south.
"Good Lord, look at the time," Sybil exclaimed standing and looking at her watch.
"What is it?" Gwen blinked and set her glass on the table.
"I almost forgot. I have an appointment at five with some of my fund-raising friends. Look, why don't you and Bob just relax here. I'll be back in no time. The catering service is bringing everything for the party about seven. I'll be back no sooner than then. So don't you fuss around, Gwen. Leave everything to them, that's what they get paid for. You just relax in the sun."
She smiled and waved her dark red fingernails at Gwen. "Don't get up. Just soak in the sun."
"Bye," Bob waved at Sybil as the woman slid into the house, her ass-cheeks flicking up and down as she moved gracefully, her back straight, her breasts aiming ahead, proud, full ripe.
"You're lucky," Gwen said as she saw Sybil pass through the living room toward the front door, dressed in a smart suit with white gloves and complementing jewelry clinging to her vivacious body.
"I know," he answered, putting the magazine down and stretching. "We enjoy life together. I guess that's the most important part of any relationship, enjoying it."
He stood and stretched again, sucking in a deep breath of air and puffing out his chest as he flexed his well-defined muscles.
He groaned and rubbed his shoulder. "Ouch, my back aches." He grimaced and bent over, touching his toes and swiveling his torso in wide arcs.
"Cramp?" Gwen asked, sitting up and studying the man's youthful body. Black, curly hair covered his chest, narrowing into a trough that plunged into his bathing suit and, she assumed, spread out to cover his testicles and pubic area.
"Yeah. Too much swimming. Guess I need a back rub."
Awkwardly, he reached around and rubbed his shoulder, grabbing a handful of flesh and kneading it.
"Can… can… I help?" Gwen offered timidly, her voice unsure.
"Hey, I'd appreciate that."
She stood, the loose top of the oversized bikini sagging and revealing the pink tops of her breasts where the sun had reddened them.
"Let's go inside, on the rug. More comfortable," Bob grunted, grimacing and walking ahead of her toward the house.
Gwen's heart pattered against her chest as she followed the man inside. The blood seemed to push out against her face, making her cheeks red and a warm glow stalk over her.
"Here's good," he said, flopping down on the rug and stretching his arms at his sides.
Timorously, Gwen knelt beside him and placed her small hands on his back. The contact with his firm, warm flesh sent shivers through her. Her hands didn't move for a moment, they just lay there resting, afraid.
"Up a bit, around the neck," he said softly, tucking his chin against his shoulder.
She let her hands slide up around his neck and squeezed, balling the flesh in her hands and pressing down against him with her fingers as she moved the skin around in a circle. Bob groaned and shifted his weight, raising his hips slightly and moaning as her hands worked faster and faster over the flesh and her breath came in short bursts.
She swallowed, trying to control the electric sensations that charged through her body. Her breasts swayed loosely in the halter as she rocked forward, pressing her palms as hard as she could against his knotted shoulder muscles. Again he squirmed, raising his hips and grinding them slightly so that his side touched her leg and pressed against her.
Her mouth was dry and she licked at her lips. A loud ringing filled her ears and the blood pumped against her temples like cymbals.
"Oh, that's so good, Gwen," he moaned, pushing his shoulders up against her hands and shifting his weight so that his side rubbed against her thigh.
"Harder, Gwen. Harder and faster."
His hips were moving as she rocked forward with all her weight and massaged the dark flesh around his shoulder.
"Dig deeper. Harder. Make it hurt." He murmured the words huskily, groaning and moaning as he had the night before into the intercom. Gwen's heart fluttered and her hands ached as she moved them deeper into his flesh, dragging the tips of her fingers across the small circle of skin and then flattening it out with the palm of her hand.
"Oh, God, Gwen. You're so good. Good."
She thought she couldn't breathe.
"B-better?" she managed, swallowing hard and hissing the words out.
"Lower. Lower." He commanded the words and Gwen complied, letting her hands work down to the center of his back.
"Is that good?"
"Lower."
She moved her hands down to the small of his back and rubbed near the top of his trunks. She thought about last night, the noises he had made with Sybil, what he had said about thinking about her, about the way he had talked to his wife in the security of his bedroom.
"M-my hands are tired," she choked, wanting to pull them away and dive into the pool to cool off.
"It still hurts, Gwen. A little more."
She couldn't say no. They had been so nice to her. She had to fight it. She was acting silly. Like a schoolgirl. She was a woman. She was married. She was…
"Down my legs, Gwen. Rub the backs of my thighs. That feels so good."
She lifted her hands off his back and looked at the hairy thighs with their muscles taut and tapering down to his bulging calves and leathery feet.
"All right," she whispered, her voice shaking, her hands jittery. She placed her palms on the meaty back of his thigh and began rubbing. Her breasts swung against her arms as she bent over him, pressing her weight down to help her soften the muscles. The nipples felt hard and hot and a wetness formed in the crotch of her bottoms. She had an urge to wrap her arms around his thighs and bury her face into his flesh, to kiss and lick him as she had heard Sybil do the night before, to please him as fully as she might Allen.
Slowly, he spread his legs and she could see the head of his hardening penis sticking out the bottom of his boxer trunks. She gasped and held her breath, looking around the room, trying to take her mind off the acorn-shaped instrument that grew a deep purple color as he shifted his hips again and again.
There was nothing wrong with that, she thought, glancing down at the snaking head compulsively. It's a normal reaction in men. She tried to look away, but her fascination with the appendage drew her eyes back to its dry, glazed, slitted head.
"Gwen?"
"Yes?" Her hands stopped and she shook.
"Rub me?"
"Where?" The word came out of nowhere. Her hands clutched the inside of his thigh.
"Up. Where it hurts, Gwen. God, it hurts."
"I… I…"
"Please, Gwen. Please?" His voice was husky and commanding.
She closed her eyes and slid her hand up toward the head of his cock. The back of her hand touched it and she froze, sucking in a deep breath and holding it. He hunched down and raised his arm, cupping her breast in his palm and squeezing, his head still tucked against his shoulder.
Gwen felt like fainting, but her hand opened and her fingers laced around the staff of his penis gently at first and then harder as her breath came in rapid pants.
The cock-head grew in her palm and she pulled it down slowly, feeling the hard flesh grow turgid and the sticky drops of clear fluid drip wetly into her hand.
He rubbed her breast, his fingers pulling the top of the bikini down. His hand was hot as it touched her enflamed nipple and pulled at it.
"Bob," she mumbled, pushing the cock against the side of his thigh.
His fingers tweaked the nipple and rolled it between his fingers. She looked at his back and his head lying flat on the rug. Take me, she begged in her mind, take me quickly Bob. Take me as you did Sybil last night.
He jumped up suddenly and Gwen jerked her hand away. He stared at her a moment and then ran out into the patio and dived into the pool. Gwen sat on the floor, her hands empty, her jaw hanging down against her chest, her halter baring one of her breasts.
She felt ashamed, embarrassed, alone sitting there in another woman's house with the thought of what she had almost done weighting her mind.
"Gwen? Gwen?"
She heard Bob's voice calling to her and stood, her heart beating excitedly.
"Come in. Come in the pool."
Slowly, she stood and adjusted the halter before walking out on the patio. Her eyes were cast down as she saw Bob's arm thrashing at the water and his powerful strokes drawing him closer toward the deep end of the pool. He pulled himself up on the hot concrete side and smiled.
"I'm sorry, Gwen. You see, you're a very attractive woman and…"
"I'm going to leave," Gwen said, nervously pulling at her fingers.
"No, don't." Bob pulled himself out of the water and grabbed her arms firmly. "Look. There's nothing wrong. I just got excited. I like you Gwen. Sybil likes you. Forget what happened. Nothing happened anyway. Look, I don't want to take advantage of you. I know how it is for you, your husband's away, you're a passionate woman. Nature is that way. Look. Dive in. Wash off. Laugh. We're going to have a good time tonight."
"All right," she said, her lower lip sticking out, her eyes still downcast. He tilted her chin up and kissed her lightly on the lips.
"Friends?"
"Friends," she answered, shivering at the touch of his wet lips on hers.
"Come on then. Let's get a quick dip before Sybil comes back. We're going to have a great time tonight. A great time."
He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into the water with him.
"Sybil, I couldn't."
"Yes, and you will. I bought it because it was made for you. Now put it on Gwen, and let's not hear another word about it."
Gwen held up the lounging outfit and felt the rich, heavy material slide under her fingers.
"It's beautiful. Beautiful!"
"Glad you like it. Now, put it on and paint on a fresh face. Our guests will be here in a few minutes."
"How can I thank you for what you've done for me," Gwen said, her eyes wide and wet with appreciation.
"I'll think of something terribly devilish," Sybil said, a smile on her full, red lips. "Don't you worry about it, dear."
She left the room and Gwen hurriedly slipped into the lounging outfit. It was a perfect fit. She kicked around the room, twirling with an imaginary partner to an imaginary tune and then seated herself before the vanity and began limping her eyes with make-up.
"The plot sickens," Bob said twirling the swizzle stick around the martini pitcher. "Win her heart and then her cunt." He laughed sarcastically and stabbed an olive with a toothpick.
"How was the afternoon? As expected?"
"Down to the last syllable. You really are a bitch, Sybil. I wanted that little cunt around my packer."
"You'll get it. But it has to be done right."
"You know what you're doing I guess," Bob said lifting the glass to his lips and tasting the freshness of the Beefeater's.
"Tonight you'll make hay," Sybil said, reaching between his legs and squeezing his limp penis. "Tonight."
Three martinis later Gwen was laughing and mingling with the guests as fluidly as though she were the hostess. Her hair was swirled atop her head and she flicked her eyelashes like Sybil, closing them slowly and squeezing them for a second before opening them and letting a mischievous smile creep across her face. It was a contagious sensation of mimicking Sybil, but Gwen had no control over her actions. She was infatuated with the woman, and tried to copy her every movement and gesture. It was like being in another person's body, acting as they acted and enjoying the freshness and allurement of the reactions she withdrew from her admirers.
"War. I hate it," she said, pursing her lips and sucking the olive off the toothpick. The couple she spoke with were both older. The man was graying at the sides and the woman wore too much makeup. The powder cracked when she smiled and the birdfeet wrinkles around her eyes couldn't be hidden from Gwen's scrutinizing view.
"That's understandable," Martin Sievers said, brushing a piece of dandruff from the shoulder of his jacket. "I suppose Betty would hate it too if I were over there."
"Oh, I don't know. There's quite a few eligible men around to keep me happy," she said, looking at her husband coyly over the rim of her glass.
"Don't count on it," Gwen said boldly, shifting a hip out and resting her hand on it. "I haven't been asked out since Allen left." She tossed her head back and laughed.
"Have you tried?" Betty Sievers arched an eyebrow and sniffed the aroma of the martini.
"That's not the point. If you try, then it doesn't matter. What you do is sit in front of the door all day and wait for someone to come in and sweep you off your feet."
"Like the Fuller Brush man?"
"Very good," Gwen said, laughing.
"Well, I hope Allen gets home safe," George said, running his hand through the slivers of gray streaking the sides of his hair. "That's a terrible war over there."
"He can take care of himself," Gwen said. "He keeps a stiff upper lip." She rolled the words carefully off her tongue. Her smile faded.
"I hope so," Martin said, dipping his finger into the glass and pulling the olive out. "The way our policy is dragging its feet, no telling how long it may take to end our involvement."
"Lets talk about something more pleasant," Gwen cut in. She didn't want to talk about war, to be labeled the war widow with everyone sour and fawning around her like a lost child. She felt like dancing and laughing and getting drunk.
Bob was in the corner with another couple who had stopped in for a quick drink before going on to the theater. She spotted him and excused herself.
"Bob? Bob?"
He nodded to the couple and strolled toward her, a smile on his face, his drink sloshing gently like small waves lapping at the cylindrical sides of the glass.
"Yes, Gwen?"
She looped her arm in his.
"I'd like to dance. Could you put on a record or something."
"Sure. Sit tight. I'll pump something smooth through the intercom."
Sybil flowed out of the kitchen, a tray of canopies in her hands. She proffered them around, then found a seat next to Gwen on the couch.
"Feet hurt, assistant hostess?"
"No." She smiled at Sybil and looked admiringly at the way the woman folded her hands in her lap and tilted her head. She tried to ape the posture. "As a matter of fact, I just asked Bob to dance with me. I was being cornered over there…" she nodded toward the Sievers, "and had to find a way out."
"Well, you be careful of my lecherous husband; he's got the hands of an octopus and the mind of a bull in mating season."
Gwen blushed.
"I'm serious," Sybil confided. "Sometimes I don't think I'm woman enough to satisfy his desires. You know what I mean." She patted Gwen's leg and winked at her. "I better mingle, like white wine and caviar are supposed to."
Sybil floated toward the Sievers, her arms outstretched, her long, smooth fingers dripping supplely from her hands. A low, melodic tune licked out from the speakers stationed around the walls and a moment later Bob appeared in the hallway, beckoning Gwen to join him.
"In here," he said. "We won't be noticed here." He took her by the arm and led her into a large carpeted room off the hall with only couches and pillows lining the walls.
"We won't embarrass those who don't want to dance."
He pulled her close and moved slowly around, dipping and turning, pulling her waist against his groin, nuzzling against her creamy smooth neck.
"I wanted you this afternoon," he said into her ear as he felt her breasts brushing against his chest and her hand squeezing tightly against his back.
She said nothing, for her throat was suddenly parched.
She felt his lips brush the thin hair behind her ear and his tongue dance lightly across her prickled skin. She pulled him closer and rubbed her "V" against his hardening penis. His leg slipped between her thighs as he slowed his movements to gentle sways. Her lips touched his neck and she instinctively snaked her tongue out and licked at his flesh, pushing it down with the force of her slender organ.
"Knock. Knock."
Startled, she broke away and saw Sybil leaning against the doorway, two fresh drinks in her hands.
"I told you not to trust him, Gwen," she said narrowing her eyes. "The minute you think he's your friend he sneaks you into his private room."
Nervously, Gwen brushed at the front of her pants and forced a smile.
"He can dance well," she said awkwardly, stepping toward Sybil and taking the drink held out to her.
"And other things too, the beast." Sybil laughed and patted Bob's stomach. "He's quite a man. Quite a man. Now, come on you two. The other couples have left, but one interesting guest just came. I'd like you to meet him, Gwen. Very entertaining."
She disappeared around the corner of the hallway.
Gwen hesitated. "Bob, maybe I'd better leave before we do something we'll both be sorry for."
"Don't be silly, Gwen. Just keep people around us. We aren't going to do anything we'll be sorry for anyway. Celebrate. Relax. Don't think such ominous thoughts."
He squeezed her arm and nudged her out the doorway. "Come on, now. Sybil and her guest are waiting."
The other couples were gone. Sybil sat on the couch talking with a man who stood and smiled as Gwen and Bob entered.
"Hello, Bob. And hello."
He was tall and slender, with a long face and deep brown eyes that glimmered black in the low-lighted living room. A trim, dark beard manicured to a sharp, neat point below his chin offset his dark complexion and angular nose. His eyes were recessed deep in his head and his brows protruded over the indentions like two ledges limned with the bushy growth of thick, coarse eyebrows. A gold chain dangled from his vest pocket to the third button as he reached out and took Gwen's hand in his.
"Gwen, I'd like you to meet Mister Loyd Largo. Perhaps you've heard of him. He's quite well known around Hollywood."
"Are you the nightclub hypnotist?" she asked, her face lighting.
"In person." His voice was deep and mellifluous.
He kissed her hand and she felt the soft, loamy consistency of his lips linger on the back of her hand.
"And Bob, haven't seen you in a long time." He pumped Bob's hand and smiled, his glistening white teeth reflecting the light like aluminum foil.
"Well, everyone sit down," Sybil interjected, tugging Largo's arm.
"Just call him Largo, Gwen, everyone does."
Gwen forgot completely what had happened moments ago and stared at the man's mesmerizing eyes. A candle sat on the coffee table and its flickering flame was captured in Largo's eyes, dancing like a subdued ballerina within the abyss of his pupils.
"Largo is an old friend, Gwen," Sybil said. "We thought you might enjoy some of his parlor tricks. Excuse me, Largo, you don't mind if I call them tricks do you?"
"Since I make my living by them, I suppose not. Although it's always refreshing to think of myself as an artist or a scientist…"
"Or the devil," Bob cut in, rocking back and laughing.
"Sometimes, yes. Even the devil."
He fixed his gaze on Gwen and she stared back at him, with awe and compulsion. "How about some tricks, then?"
"Certainly. Who is willing?"
"Not me." Sybil stabbed herself in the throat with her fingernail. "How about you Gwen? The last time Largo hypnotized me he turned me into a chicken and had me squawking around the floor for an hour while Bob took movie pictures of me eating olives off the floor."
"Will it be that bad?" Gwen said, her eyes widening.
"I promise to have you fully enjoy yourself," Largo said, his lips barely moving as he spoke.
"I'm game."
"Good."
"What do I do?"
Deftly, Largo pulled a large crystal from his vest pocket and dangled it over the candle flame. It was cut with hundreds of facets and reflected the colors of the rainbow as it wound counter-and-clockwise from the dangling chain.
"Sit down here on the floor and watch only the crystal and listen only to my voice and your breathing. Concentrate fully on what I am telling you. Nothing else. Can you do that?"
"I think so."
"Excellent. Now, do you wish to be hypnotized?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Sit down here and relax, all your muscles, let them relax."
He motioned to Bob, who rose silently and turned the lights down, leaving only the flickering candle flame and Largo's flowing voice to dominate the room.
"Look deeply, Gwen. Deeply. Feel yourself slipping, pleasantly slipping down into the bed of pillows. Feathers are rising out of the pillows, feathers all around you. They are soft and they don't tickle. They brush against your cheek like the satin on your blanket when you were a child. Remember Gwen? Remember when the satin rubbed against your nose and you fell asleep with your thumb in your mouth? Satisfied. Happy. Remember. See it all now. The crib, Gwen. See the crib. See the feathers fluffing up around you. Look deeply into the crystal, Gwen. Everything is there. Waiting for you to relax. Close your eyes, Gwen. Sink softly into the feathers. Watch them rise up before your eyes like little balloons. Watch them. Join them. Deep and deep down, as far and silently as you can go. Sink down and join the feathers, feel them touch your body, feel them make you happy. Secure. Happy."
The words swam in her head as she felt herself drawn to the crystal, as she saw the feathers rising out of the facets and lifting her with them high above the clouds, higher than she had ever been in her life. She had no fear of falling as she settled and began to sink down, farther and farther into the downy mattress the voice was describing. Deeper and deeper she sank, until she felt as though she were floating underwater with the ability to breathe and see everything clearly around her.
"She's under."
"Good."
"Tell her."
"Gwen, this is Largo. Can you hear me?"
"Yes."
"I am going to leave you now. Sybil and Bob will speak to you. When they touch your nose, you will awaken. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"They will tell you to remain within their control. To do what they ask you. You will do that for them because they are your friends, won't you?"
"Yes."
"Also, you will perform the way they tell you in a conscious trance, because they are your friends. No matter what they do, they do it because they love you. They love you. Do you understand?"
"Yes. I understand."
"Never will you feel pain. Pain is not real. You will only feel love. Do you understand? Only feel love, no matter what. Bob and Sybil love you, is that clear?"
"Yes."
"Good. I must leave now. Tell me how you will awaken."
"When Bob or Sybil touch my nose."
"Will you feel pain of any kind?"
"No, only love. Bob and Sybil love me. I will always feel love for them no matter what they do."
"That is very good, Gwen. Now, I must go."
"Thanks, Largo. We appreciate it."
"I'll say you're welcome when I get the check, Sybil."
"Capitalist."
"We're all something, Sybil. We're all something."
"Good-night."
"Good-night."
"Gwen, this is Sybil. Can you hear me?"
"I hear you Sybil. I love you Sybil."
"Good. I love you too. We both love you very deeply. We want to share your love with us. We want you to come into the bedroom when you awaken, naked. Do you understand?"
"Yes. You want me to come into your bedroom, naked."
"Yes. You will perfume yourself in the bathroom and then join us. We will be lying on the bed waiting for your body to join our bodies. We will make love violently. You will want us with all your power and all your might. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"You will have no inhibitions with us. You will do as we say because you love us and we do not wish to harm you. Every part of our body will be beautiful to you. Nothing will smell. Nothing will be ugly. Is that clear? Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"And from this time on, whenever I reach up and touch your breast with my hand and squeeze your nipple, you will think of us as beautiful. Until enough time has passed. At home you will think of us as beautiful until you know we are beautiful. You will think that all the time, as long as you dream, you will dream of us as loving you until we are as one. Is that all clear?"
"Yes. You will be beautiful. I will think you are beautiful until you are forever beautiful."
"Wonderful, Gwen. Now listen. I am going to touch your nose. You will then come into the bedroom to us and join us, loving us as you have never loved anyone. You will not speak of this love to anyone, not even Allen. Is that clear?"
"Yes."
"I'm going to touch your nose now. You will wait one minute and then awaken."
Gwen rubbed her eyes and stared into the candle. Wax puddled around the base and the flame bent dangerously to one side as a breeze brushed against her cheek.
Experimentally, she touched her temples and then looked around. The room was empty.
Slowly, she stood and walked toward the bathroom, her eyes glazed, a warm, comforting feeling stealing over her.
She stripped off her clothes mechanically and perfumed her body with the scents set out on the counter. She rubbed the perfume across her breasts and buttocks, between the cheeks of her ass, on her knees and toes, up the slit of her vagina, under her arms.
Then, rotely, she turned the handle on the bathroom door and padded toward Sybil and Bob's bedroom.