How had it all happened? They had met for a drink. They had met for a drink in the Pine Inn. They had met at the "Happy Hour" in the red and white Pine Inn bar that spoke of elegance, of quiet, casual wealth and good taste. They had met with the Pine Inn regulars who met every day at five and drank quietly and well.
And she had too much to drink! She had driven home tipsy, driving slowly, and felt immediately sleepy going to bed and wondering vaguely and only half-seriously, if anything had been put in her drink. She had become "high" so quickly and babbled things she ordinarily wouldn't have. Before she knew it, she was agreeing to a long weekend with Nichole up in the city. "What you need is a change. You're in a rut and you don't know it. I've got a wonderful apartment on Sutter Street. What you need is a weekend with me. Well go places and meet people and have a good old dirty time."
Kim had fallen into bed, drowsy, sleepily amused that Nichole had decided to take over in her life, vaguely pleased that somebody cared enough to say so and take an interest in her welfare.
Waking the next morning and realizing that, in an hour, Nichole would be around to pick her up and that she was going to spend a weekend in lovely San Francisco, she shrugged. Why not? Perhaps the other girl was right. Maybe she did need a change! Kim dressed and packed quickly. "Travel light," Nichole had said, "that's my motto: travel light and wear sexy underwear."
She looked forward to the weekend despite Nichole's old habit of being just a bit too rough and sexual in her talk. Somehow, the brunette always brought the conversation around to men and sex. She really didn't mind, dismissing it as Nichole's way and need for attention. She didn't really think anything was meant by it.
Nichole was right on time, arriving in a new Mustang convertible. They drove up U.S. 1, Kim taking in the coastal scenery as they drove. Then, like a jewel, a thrill no matter how many times you've seen it, came the Apple, The Big Apple, San Francisco! The city, a combination of stately old homes and gracious living; the city, a curious blend of European comfort and old frontier make-do. The city of the Barbery Coast and China Town, North Beach and the Mission district, Nob Hill and Haight-Ashbury, The Panhandle and the financial district.
It retains some of its bawdy, lusty, goldrush past. It is the original home of the topless and bottomless, of the porny movies and live sex shows. It is a sin-drenched city and it is a graceful entity to good living – the De Young Museum, The Palace of The Legion of Honor, and the opera. It has its ballet and art exhibits. It is the home of the 1950's Beats – Beatniks and the poetry movement of North Beach. It is a melting pot for east and west, and has always been drug-oriented because of Chinatown and the opium trade and wars that flourished as far back as the nineties.
San Francisco is, as connoisseurs of female flesh are quick to point out, a city full of extremely beautiful girls. To this already happy horde were added two more: Nichole and Kim. They arrived in the afternoon. Nichole's apartment was all that she said it was – and more. It was spacious and Kim would have a bedroom of her own. The sensual looking brunette mixed drinks right away, then told Kim to wander around and make herself at home, while she made some phone calls.
Kim moved around the expensive apartment, admiring the furniture and paintings, only half-listening to Nichole. Suddenly, she was listening hard. "That's right. Her name is Kim Stewart, and she's a real knockout. Yeah. Yeah. Relax, she's married. That's right, I said married. Be here about six."
Nichole hung up and waved a depreciating hand at Kim's wondering stare. "Relax! All I'm doing is lining up dates for us. Escorts. Listen, it's easier with an escort. Lots of places we couldn't go if it wasn't for escorts. Besides, they know you're married, and all they're doing is acting as an escort. God, Kim," Nichole frowned, "sometimes you're an old maid."
The words stung. Kim tried not to show it. All she had done was direct a questioning frown at Nichole. Could the brunette be right? Wasn't she, after all, leaping to conclusions? Wasn't Nichole doing nothing more than being thoughtful by providing her with am escort? Maybe she was getting to be an old maid. Maybe she missed Hank too much and felt a vulnerability in the big city. But that feeling of dread was on her again! It stayed with her the rest of the afternoon. They lunched in a smart place on Union Street, and Nichole seemed possessed of a wooden leg, belting one Scotch on the rocks down after another. Back at the apartment, she mixed even more drinks while they awaited their "escorts".
Kim was feeling no pain by the time the two men got there, yet that feeling of impending doom took an immediate surge when Nichole said, "Kim, I want you to meet Klaus. And this big one here is Ernie. Gentlemen, this is Mrs. Kim Stewart."
They were polite enough and well-dressed. Klaus had a slight accent and a look that she didn't like. Ernie was rougher, bigger, quieter, and tough with a cynical smile below his broken nose. Klaus introduced himself somewhat formally, saying he was in "Transportation. Ernie there is in security." Kim got the distinct impression that Ernie was a private detective or had something to do with plainclothes work for the police.
They sat around and chatted about the coming evening. Right before the doorbell rang, Nichole had given Kim a pep talk, telling her not to let it all hang out, but to try and concentrate on other things and just have a good time… going out on the town for a change and having a ball. Now, the red-haired housewife sat, trying to appear gay and sophisticated to Klaus.
"Ve vill show you the sights, North Beach and the topless-bottomless clubs."
"Klaus," Nichole cut in, "maybe I didn't tell you on the phone, but, well…"
Her words died in the air and they all looked at one another. That is, except for Kim who felt embarrassed because no one looked at her.
"Vell, vhat?" Klaus asked, hissing the S out.
"Well… I don't think Kim… I don't know if she's ready for that."
"Ready?" Klaus looked at Kim in mock amazement. "Ready? My dear Nichole, I must say you can be condescending when you wish to be. What you're saying is that Mrs. Stewart, a mature, married, and, I must say attractive, female isn't 'ready' to see a naked woman dance on a stage. You make it sound like she's not quite old enough, or hasn't had enough experience to see something so risque, is that it? Or," he added teasingly, "perhaps it is beneath her?"
"No!" Kim was surprised how quickly she interrupted. "No, that isn't it at all."
"No?" Klaus looked superior. "Then perhaps it's too much for Nichole. Perhaps she is using you to hide behind."
Nichole and Ernie both erupted in raucous laughter. Kim joined in self consciously, playing the role of the big city sophisticate even though she didn't like it. No matter what, she had her pride, and she wasn't going to let them be patronizing to her. Cannel was a small town in population only. Down on the peninsula, they were as sophisticated as anyone. "No," she said, pretending to be worldly. "As a matter of fact, I'm dying to see one."
"You sure?"
Nichole asked the words with such obvious condescension, asking the question as if Kim were five years old. Anger flushed in her. No matter what, she didn't like being made fun of. No one did! The red-haired wife's back stiffened. "Of course. Can we go now and not waste time?"
Klaus glanced at his watch. "Yes, I think we can catch an earlier show."
Ernie grinned at her. "We're just being friendly. Don't want to scare you."
"Don't worry," Kim said, flirting a bit with Ernie and enjoying her audacity. "I've been around a bit."
Klaus, Ernie, and Nichole exchanged a smiling look that annoyed Kim, for she didn't share in whatever confidence they were exchanging. Finally, Klaus said, "Shouldn't we get prepared for the event?"
"Fine with me," Ernie said, getting a flat cigarette case out.
Kim's back bristled. Perhaps she was all wrong, but she thought she knew what was going to happen. She couldn't speak as she watched Ernie carefully take a thin, dark brown cigarette out of his case and carefully hand it to Klaus who sniffed it, smiled, and just as carefully handed it to Kim. "Very good," he growled.
Kim held it like it was a bomb and passed is to Nichole with a pasty smile on her face. Nichole leaned to her, her voice lowered. "This is hashish. The very finest. Have you ever bad any?"
Numbly, Kim shook her head. She knew what marijuana was, but wasn't sure what hashish was. Whatever it was, she didn't want any. "Just take a few drags of it, and if you don't like it, stop."
That sounded fair and none of the others seemed at all alarmed. It was a bad scene, an uncomfortable situation to be in, yet she was determined to bluff it through. Again, her feeling of dread came over her in a rush.
"Slowly, slowly," Klaus instructed her as she took a drag from the lighted cigarette he offered her. She had watched him inhale, and she did it very gently. It had a strange but not unpleasant taste. She took the cigarette again when it came around to her and inhaled deeper on the next puff and held it down the way everyone else was doing.
After three or four inhalations, Kim could hardly feel it going down, it was so smooth. Soon, it seemed like she was doing nothing but holding her breath.
"I don't feel a thing," she said in a voice that didn't sound like her. She looked at Klaus and Nichole on either side of her, and they suddenly looked as if they were miles and miles away.
"Do you feel anything?"
"Yes, darling, I feel the world. I feel old San Francisco and it's hot and it's horny." It seemed a logical answer to Kim, and suddenly she felt the same way too. She bad never felt the world around her before. How strange, how odd not to be vitally aware of the universe around her.
She was inhaling again and liking the taste it left in her mouth. The longer it stayed down the softer it felt inside… and the softer she felt!
She sat in silence, lulled, taking the newly offered brown cigarette like a robot, inhaling and passing it along to Nichole. She could feel the pressure of Klaus' leg against her thigh, but the inhalation duped her fears. In fact, it dulled all her fears, even that feeling of impending dread. His leg felt good, and she returned the pressure slightly to let him know she didn't mind. She was going to show them she was liberal minded.
The drugged young wife now didn't seem to mind anything at all… not with that sweet smoke in her… she could feel it licking smoky and seductive deep inside… deeper than she had felt anything since that night in the bathroom. She didn't even mind thinking of that now, and she pressed her warm fleshy thigh even tighter against Klaus' knee.
The pungent sweetness of the narcotic hung heavy in the room and in the cab as they rode to North Beach all crammed next to one another. Kim liked the feeling of Ernie's powerful body pressed next to her. As the taxi swayed across town, she began to realize that the pungent aroma, that deadly sweet odor, was not only in her nostrils, but in her mind as well.
She reeled under the total impact of the drug and felt giddy and silly, and was glad she had Nichole and Ernie and Klaus to guide her about and be responsible for her. Without them, she would have gone where bidded and done what she was told. She felt like a butterfly borne, tossed, and turned on some mighty slipstream, buffeted about without being able to help it. The world was too large and too full of distractions for her to be able to make any decisions. Dimly, she could divine that Ernie was with Nichole and Klaus was her date… escort.
She giggled, feeling naughty, going to see a topless dancer with a strange man. How many women did that? Klaus gently guided her by the elbow into a night club that advertised TOTALLY NUDE outside. Once inside, it was pitch black and Kim opened her eyes wide, trying to see where she was stepping. Klaus guided her all the way, and the four of them sat at a little table with Klaus holding her hand and gently moving his knee against her thigh. He gave her hand a little reassuring squeeze, and she squeezed back as they all looked up at a tiny, brightly lighted stage.
Kim watched, fascinated, her stare a hypnotic drugged one. Idly, she wondered if people could tell she was high. She tried to remember what it was they had smoked… it wasn't marijuana. Her thoughts seemed difficult and almost impossible to collect and regulate. She shook her head and watched a young girl mounting the tiny stage that had mirrors for a backing. Once up on the platform, the girl casually pulled her dress off her head and stood listening to the beat of the music on the juke box; she wore nothing but an Indian headband and a pair of sandals.
It was a powerful sensual shock to Kim, looking at another woman's naked body with a group of virtual strangers. The dark bar was packed, mostly with men and with the majority of them being military people. Almost timidly, the drugged housewife looked up at the girl who had short hair and a slim, boyish body. At first glance, she could have been a boy. Her hips were slim and her buttocks small and tight, and her breasts were high and small, almost non-existent when she stretched her arms above the head. Her nipples were a dark red, hard and tight, like pencil erasers. Her pubic hair was black and there wasn't much of it over her firm little mound of Venus. Even her pouting – dry – cuntal lips looked tight and small.
It seemed obscene somehow to look at another woman's vagina along with a roomful of strangers and see the lips form more distinctly, see the indentation by her thighs take place. Suddenly, with a barely suppressed gasp, Kim realized the girl was getting excited by standing naked before a roomful of strangers. It, the idea and the act, was exciting not only the girl, but Kim! She was astounded by the wanton strength of her own lasciviousness and sensuality. Somehow, it must be all mixed with the pungent smoke.
Slowly, Kim let her eyes wander from the girl's tight little cunt to see that she was standing nakedly right in front of her. The dancer squatted obscenely so Kim could look right up at her narrow cuntal slit and see the fluted pink edges slightly trembling. Slowly, the embarrassed young wife looked up to see that the girl was wantonly smiling down at her, snapping her fingers in time with the music, and slowly undulating her hips in a most obscene and suggestive way.
It was as if the girl was crouching, offering her pussy to Kim and to Kim alone! It was with a shock that the red-haired wife gradually realized the girl was inviting her to caress the warmly perfumed cuntal flesh and everyone in the room must know it. Kim darted a nervous look at Klaus who shrugged, and at Nichole who laughed and looked back up at the girl.
The naked dancer, rubbing her hands up and down her thighs, mouth open, eyes half-closed, turned and sensuously swayed down the platform until she was in front of Nichole who seemed to ravish the girl with her eyes. The dancer crouched before the brunette, her legs wide-split, her now pinkly glistening pussy pumping lewdly back and forth not two feet from Nichole's face.
Kim felt she had to be imagining things, that it was all the – what was it? – the "hashish" they had smoked. It had to be! The girl couldn't be a lesbian. Nor could Nichole! She was just enjoying the dance, that's all. Yet it seemed so obvious, so blatant. Kim watched the girl and her straining thighs and firmly jiggling little breasts, and the whole idea seemed so wicked and so risque and wild that it excited her. It touched a chord deep in her drugged body that vibrated out of control for a moment, bringing a hot, itchy moisture to her vagina and forcing her to close her legs and squeeze her thighs together to stop the insane throbbing of her clitoris.
The girl dancer had hips that seemed to be attached to her body by ball bearings and stainless steel springs; she gyrated and rotated, her tight little buttocks visible in the mirror as they jumped and jiggled and grew taut as she danced. The music was growing wilder and wilder as she cupped her orange-sized breasts and seemed to offer them to the room at large, but really giving them in silent invitation to Nichole right in front of her. She stopped dancing and stood with her legs spread wide apart and slowly – as Kim gaped and leaned forward, her hand on Klaus' knee – slowly, lewdly and wantonly rotated her hips and rolled her buttocks so that her pussy slit glinted moistly in the light. Her mouth dry and her heatedly throbbing clitoris pounding again, Kim squeezed Klaus on the knee and looked at Nichole. The brunette was hungrily staring right at the offered cunt, her eyes half closed, her face dark and intense.
Slowly, as Kim watched, the red, wetly quivering little tip of her tongue licked her lips.
Kim fell back in her chair, letting go of Klaus and suddenly aware of his big strong hand on her knee. He ran his hand further up her thigh, whispering, "Did you see that?"
All she could do was nod, looking at the two women who seemed to be transfixed. Then, abruptly, the dance was over and the girl grinned and stood up, reaching for her dress while the room exploded in applause. It seemed as if everyone knew what was happening, and the atmosphere was heavy with a lewdly sensuous feeling – a strong surging sense of immorality. Kim sat silent in her chair, white and shaken, because she had never seen anything like that before between two women, and had never dreamed of such a thing about Nichole.
She passed a vague hand over her eyes, thinking she must be seeing things, imagining things. Yet, the dancer did look kind of boyish and she was down off the stage and dragging a chair up by Nichole and whispering to her. Kim felt shaken for two reasons: imagining such a thing about a friend; and also realizing that the wildly vulgar dance she had just seen and the non-verbal exchange she had witnessed had wantonly excited her beyond anything she had ever imagined. Her sopping young cunt fairly ached, forcing her to twist and turn under Klaus' hand in an effort to find a better way to sit. She moved uncomfortably, feeling as though her entire vagina was on fire. She felt immersed in a whole world of lewdness. Sex was everywhere in the bar. Men were looking hungrily at her as they waited for another dancer. Men were looking with the hot perfume of sex in the air! IT WAS EXCITING!
While the drugged young housewife sat in a kind of sexual reverie, "feeling the world around her" and feeling her immediate world of the sleazy dark bar, another dancer walked up on the platform and began taking off her dress to reveal her buttocks bare and bulging. While all these things were happening all around her, Kim could feel her flesh and found it excited. Men were mentally undressing her and Nichole. Suddenly Kim sat forward, noticing her three companions weren't looking at the stage. They weren't paying any attention to the new dancer, but, rather, had their heads bent together and were talking excitedly in low voices.
Kim leaned closer to hear what they were saying.
"Why not?"
"One in a million chance."
"I wouldn't miss it for anything."
"What?" Kim asked, interrupting, eager, squirming to know what it was that was so interesting. The three of them looked at her, and Ernie had his cynical smile. "No," he said, looking at Klaus and shaking his head, "I don't think we can do it."
"Vhy?" Klaus asked.
Ernie nodded at Kim, and they all looked at her.
She could tell she was still suffering from the effects of the cigarette. Everyone seemed far away, like looking at people through the wrong end of a telescope. Yet she could hear what they were saying.
"What? What about me?" Kim asked, her voice sounding strange and far away.
Klaus patted her knee in a paternal way. "Nothing. This girl here, this dancer, talked to Nichole, and it seems she knows where a live sex show is going to be."
"Live? Real?" Kim gaped at the girl in disbelief.
Klaus nodded. "An orgy. For a price, they allow people to watch."
The thought staggered Kim. She had never in her life dreamed of such a thing. Yet, San Francisco seemed full of everything else sexual. She had even read articles about the so-called massage parlors. Why not orgies with an audience?
"Since they are against the law, they are very hard to get to see," Klaus went on, explaining. "Since nothing is held back at these orgies, I'm afraid they will always be outside the law. I can't conceive of a government that would ever permit such things publicly."
"Why? What happens at these… things?" Kim couldn't resist the question. The thought of watching people do what they would ordinarily do in privacy, in bed, in a whorehouse, was too thrilling to resist. She shifted again on the chair, feeling the tight crotchband of her panties bite into the wetly swollen lips of her cunt. She crossed her legs tight, feeling the band bite deeper, feeling her excited clitoris grow oiled with her own heat and slip out of the band. By rocking back and forth, pretending to listen to Klaus explain above the music, she was able to rub her clitoris back and forth against the band, exciting her so that her face was flushed and the nipples of her breasts hardened, shrinking into tightly erect points. Klaus was telling her about one he had attended some time ago, and she was imagining herself standing nakedly in front of a group, showing them her proud body and its scratches and bruises. She clenched her fists to keep from shuddering.
"Naturally, orgies are hard to find because they are secret. They take precautions and this is a lucky break."
"How do you know this is… genuine? The real thing?" Kim asked.
Klaus smiled politely. "You saw that girl dance. And she says that the price is seventy five per person. That follows my experience and lends credence."
"S… seventy five dollars?"
Klaus nodded. "Believe me, you get your money's worth."
Nichole tapped Klaus on the knee, getting his attention. "Don't embarrass my friend. She doesn't have to go if she doesn't want to."
"Yeah," Ernie added, "now's the time to take the party-poopers home."
"Ernie!" Nichole protested. "Don't talk that way."
"Why not? Hell, we're all tip-toeing around afraid of Miss What's-Her-Name here. Hell, let her go home. I wouldn't miss this orgy for anything."
Klaus looked at Kim and shrugged. "Rude as he is, I'm afraid I agree with him. I'm going to go. I'll be happy to take you back to the apartment."
"Well, I think you both are being rotten to Kim!" Nichole said.
"Oh?" Ernie leered. "I suppose you're not going?"
Nichole looked right in his face. "I wouldn't miss it for all the money in California, and you know how much I love money, honey. Don't you worry about old Nichole. I'll be right there in the front row. And you two will be with me. No, that isn't it. What frosts me about you two is the way you assume Kim won't go. Hell, you haven't even asked her if she wanted to go!"
Again, they all looked at the embarrassed red-haired housewife who tried to look cool and poised. Nichole was the first to speak. "Do you want to go? If you don't, we understand. Well drop you at my apartment."
Kim's mouth was dry. Her fingers trembled. Her drugged young body was a mass of swirling emotions and conflicting feelings. She couldn't help thinking of Hank and remembering her near-rape. Going to an orgy would be daring and wicked and something she would never forget.
"W… would I… would… w… we… would we have to do anything but watch? I mean…" She licked her lips and tried to hide her excitement and fear.
"No, this girl says they have arrangements where one can watch in private."
"T… the money…" Kim began.
Klaus waved her problem away. "I would be delighted."
Before she realized it, the hashish playing tricks with her sense of time, they were threading their way through the tables with Kim looking back and thinking, "My God, I never even looked at the other dancer!"
Yet, as they crowded into a cab and she felt Klaus pressing his whole leg against hers, she felt a thrill and giggled. All of them seemed to have their adrenaline running high now. They were conspirators and they shared a secret: they were gong to do something illegal. More than that, they were going to do something immoral, sinful, lustful! They were going to watch an orgy!
To her surprise, Kim found that the address was on Russian Hill instead of some grimy tenement in the Haight. A doorman in regal livery politely asked them to stand in front of a television camera whip he punched the floor and apartment number Nichole gave him. Nichole smiled at the camera. A voice came through a chrome-faced speaker. "Yes?"
"Mr. Burdick?" Nichole asked as she had been instructed.
"Which Mr. Burdick?" the query came cautiously.
"The one from Sharon, New York, who smokes Chesterfields."
There was a click then a voice asked, "How many?"
"Four."
Another click and, "Let them in, Albert."
The doorman showed them into a tastefully decorated lobby that smacked of wealth. Kim seemed to stumble and float like a weightless leaf on water.