When she got home it was twelve-thirty. Tim was waiting up for her. She greeted him cheerily, but abruptly, gave him no opportunity to say anything and marched off to bed.
When he slipped in beside her, it was she who moved to the other side this time, wrapping herself in the top sheet. She didn't want him to touch her. She'd had all the sex she'd needed that night, after all. When he started patting her ass, she ignored him.
The next morning, she phoned the YWCA and inquired about their female assertiveness training course.
"You're in luck," came the brisk reply. "The second six-week session begins tomorrow night. Fifty dollars. You can register when you come. Starts at 730."
And the woman hung up. Assertive little bitch, thought Linda. Well, if I can manage that after six weeks, it'll be worth the – but where do I get $50?
She had to think fast. Multitudes of ways went through her mind. Stealing from her husband… except she knew he never carried that much at one time. If she'd saved her allowance from last week, she'd have enough. But she hadn't.
She could work temporary for a day, but those places usually didn't pay till Friday. That wouldn't do. She needed the money Wednesday night.
The inevitable thought came to her. If she didn't have anybody to borrow from – her girlfriends didn't carry that much money either, and if they did, they would want to know what it was for and she didn't want to tell anybody – perhaps she would have to earn it in ways known only to the world's oldest professionals.
The thought repulsed her at first. Then she thought, well, why not? What better way to get money fast? The only concern she had was that no one locally should know about it. Especially not her husband.
But where could she go and get back in time to register far the course?
Then the idea hit her. Chicago. Chicago was only 125 miles away. She could go and come back in a day and a half. The bus would be about twenty dollars. That much she had. She only needed a contact there.
Frankie.
She quickly called information for the number. She dialed. He was out so she left a message. She waited eagerly by the phone. Then she remembered that he would be rehearsing all day.
She drove down to the theater. She saw him embracing the wife in the play, on the stage. Linda got horny watching. When the scene was finished, she walked through the door backstage and caught him. He was wiping his forehead with a handkerchief.
"Linda," he said, surprised to see her. "What are you doing here?"
"I called your hotel," she said, smiling. "But I thought I'd find you here faster."
"Well, yes, but…" He seemed a little embarrassed.
She drew him aside. "Look, Frankie, I have to talk to you. I don't know quite how to say this." She lowered her voice. "And it may sound cheap to you. I hope not. But I'm in need of some quick money. Do you know anyone in Chicago who can use my services for the night?"
"Do you know what you're saying? Did I hear you right?" Frankie said.
"Look, I'm in a financial bind, and I'll do just about anything to get opt of it."
"How much do you need?"
"Two hundred," she lied. She wanted it to be more than he could handle. She didn't want to borrow from him. She wanted to earn her way. She was determined. Even if it meant selling her body. Her soul.
"Do you need an abortion?" said Frankie solemnly.
She burst out laughing. "No, it's nothing like that. At least, I hope!"
"I wish I could help you, but I don't have that much to spare. Isn't there another alternative?"
"Do you know somebody, Frankie? Please! Someone with money."
"Yes, I do, I'm afraid. A rich producer in Chicago. He'll give anything for a hot cunt like yours, if you'll pardon the expression."
Linda winced. "You could have put it a little less bluntly."
Frankie drew paper and pencil out of his pocket. He scrawled something on it and handed it to her. "Here's his name and address. He'll be in the phone book. His office is in The Loop." He turned to go. "I've got to get back to rehearsing. I'm due on soon. If you'll excuse me…" he moved away.
"Will you call me, Frankie, or shall I call you? Do you think I'm terrible?"
Frankie frowned. Ignoring the first question, he answered the second. "Let's just say I didn't know you had it in you." He turned abruptly and walked into the auditorium.
Linda stood rooted to the spat. I've got to tell him not to say anything, she thought. I don't want it blurted all over town. Doesn't he know I have no alternative?
She walked slowly through the darkened auditorium, half turning to watch a scene on stage. Frankie was sitting with a man on the aisle. He ignored her as she walked by.
That hurt.
Linda went immediately to the bus station and took the next Chicago bus out. The journey took longer than she expected. It was not a direct route. The bus meandered in and out of every town between Livermore and Chicago. She saw more corn and alfalfa fields than she'd ever seen in her life.
At last the road widened into a four-lane, then an eight-lane highway. Smokestacks and tall buildings appeared everywhere.
Soon they were in the midst of a huge traffic jam, and, as suddenly, out again. Ten minutes later, the bus pulled into the terminal.
Linda dismounted, nearly overpowered by the mingled odor of gas fumes, rubber and, air conditioning – that peculiar odor known only to buses.
She found her way to the restroom and made up. She checked her watch. It was mid-afternoon. She made her way back through the waiting room, through the throngs of people, the mothers with their children, the prying eyes of the men, the suspicious characters, white and black, who always seemed to be drawn to bus stations, like moths around bulbs.
She spotted telephones in one corner and made her way across the huge room, zigzagging to avoid people and their banging suitcases. She hurriedly looked up the producer's name in the phone book.
Linda was nervous. She'd done nothing quite like this before. She didn't even know if she would make it home that night. She hoped so. When she got the rich man on the phone, she would have to be quick and to the point.
She dialed Jim Forbes' office. A mastery answered. "Whom shall I say is calling, please?"
"Just… just tell him a female friend. A woman friend," she corrected herself.
A thick deep male voice came on the phone suddenly. He must have picked up at the same time the secretary did. "Yes? Hang up."
The receiver clicked. "It's okay," came Mr. Forbes' voice. "Now, who am I speaking with?"
"Mr. Forbes, this is Linda Carney. I'm acquainted with Frankie."
"Yes, dear. Yes, Linda." His voice was immediately friendly. "What can I do for you? How is Frankie?"
She paused. She'd forgotten what she was going to say. "Oh, fine, he's just fine. A really nice guy. Mr. Forbes, can you meet me for a drink?" Perhaps he would get the idea subtly.
"Well, I had an appointment, but perhaps I can break it. Is it, well, urgent?"
"Yes, sir, it is." Linda's anxiety broke through in her voice. She breathed more freely now. "It's very important."
"Tell you what. Where are you?"
"I'm at the bus depot."
There was a silence. "I see. Yes, if you'll take a cab… never mind, just walk two blocks north and four blocks east, you'll be near – tell you what, it's easier if I pick you up. I'll stop by in a cab and get you. Can you be at the information counter at four?"
"Oh, yes, yes." She wheeled and searched the massive room for the information sign. "Yes, I see it. How will I know you?"
"How will I know you?" came the response. "I'd like to hear you describe yourself."
"Oh, yes, well, I'm, uh, blond, I have long blond hair. I'm wearing a green dress and carrying a brown alligator bag."
"Are you pretty?"
"Y-yes, yes, I think so."
"Slim?"
"Yes." She didn't know if she liked all this questioning. It was as if she were going to the Chicago meat market. Why didn't he have her come to his office? That would have been more exciting. Well, call girls were a kind of meat market, weren't they? That's what everyone said. She thought she'd read that in Time once.
"You'll do," Jim Forbes said.
"I beg your pardon," said Linda. It made her angry. How does he know what I want, she thought. I'll do? For what?
"See you, kid," said the producer and the receiver clicked.
Linda stared into the dial. She hung up. She turned, felt all male eyes upon her as she looked for and found a seat in the long lines of benches.
She wished she had a newspaper to hide her face. Sitting there, she was both nervous and depressed. Think only of the money, she kept telling herself. It's only for money. And sex is more fun than an office any day. Refreshing. Regenerating. My girl friends come home zonked from work. Not me.
She was trying to prepare herself for the encounter. She looked up at the big clock. A quarter to four. A man across the way winked as her gaze grazed his face. She felt her stomach turn over. He was fat with little insect eyes. His hand was in his crotch.
She couldn't help but feel a slight turn-on in the despite of her cunt, but the feeling repulsed her. She wouldn't do a dirty old man in a filthy bus station to turn her on. Still, she couldn't deny the feeling.
She wanted to stick her tongue out at him, but he was sure to come over then and want to suck on it. She ignored him.
Ten to four. She got up nervously and went to buy a Chicago paper. When she returned to her seat, she found it occupied. By the same fat, beady-eyed man. He grinned up at her lecherously. She wheeled angrily and matched off to the restroom.
She sank down onto a dressing stool in front of the minor.
"What's the time, please, Miss?"
Linda looked up. It was a bullish-looking thirty-five-year-old woman with dark curly hair and a curiously patronizing voice.
Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, the woman stared at Linda's breasts in the minor, while she waited for an answer. Before Linda could open her mouth, the woman was behind and reaching around her.
Linda felt her breast being touched. Then mauled. It caught her off guard. She inhaled sharply, puffing away at the same time that a terribly erotic and heady feeling came over her. The woman's other hand brushed her neck.
Linda tried to rise, without causing a scene. "Please, please, don't do that. Don't."
"I only charge ten dollars," said the woman.
"You what?" Linda's face fell. "No, thank you." She smoothed her skirt and marched out. She pressed her lips together and walked straight ahead into the waiting room, not noticing anyone, or anything, except the direction in which she was going. She saw a man waiting by the information booth. Well-dressed. Perhaps…
"Come back here, Miss," the girl called after her. "You forgot your newspaper."
Stuff it up your twat! Linda thought. How horrible a woman! How ugly!
She stopped in front of the information booth and looked the well-dressed man directly in the face. He seemed startled.
"Are you Jim?"
"No, Miss." He turned abruptly to the woman in the booth. "When is the next bus to Lake Geneva?"
"Four-twenty-nine," the woman said. She was dressed in a blue uniform and looked, to Linda, very crisp and professional. She was probably forty.
"When is the latest bus to Livermore?" asked Linda quickly.
"Last one out is ten-forty-five."
"Oh, okay, thank you. Uh, you don't mind if I wait here, do you? I'm waiting for…"
A man behind her elbowed her away. "How do I get to Platteville?"
Linda just stood and tried to control herself. Was it worth all this? She was ready to scream. She was all alone. Nothing but strangers around her. No one interested in her. No one knew her.
"Miss Carney?" came a voice suddenly at her left shoulder.
The words were like a cool waterfall. She turned and smiled up into a handsome Jewish face. The man, wore a red plaid topcoat and a large, prominent gold ring on his left hand. He looked forty-five.
"Mr. Forbes?" she said, a smile flashing all over her face.
"Yes. My, you aren't pretty. You're beautiful. You're not a good judge of beauty! Come. Let's get you out of this mess. I have a cab waiting."
He took her arm and escorted her out. Eyes followed them. Linda breathed a sigh of relief like she never had before. She felt suddenly very weak.
She was so grateful to him. She suddenly nearly forgot her purpose in coming there at all.
"Come, you'll feel better after a drink," he advised.
They slipped into a waiting cab and the cab pulled away suddenly.
"Easy there," said Jim. "Take us to Miss Sherry's," he directed.
He had Linda by the hand and reached over and planted a kiss on her mouth. It was warm and wet. And a little sudden.
But she smiled up appreciatively, nonetheless.
"So what can I do for you?" He even talked like Frankie. It must be people in the theater world. Overly sweet and a little patronizing.
But she didn't mind. It was better than the bus depot. Let's see, she thought. I just need money for the assertiveness-training class, she told herself. Don't forget it now, Linda.
"I don't want to say anything in front of the cab driver," she whispered, cocking her head to one side appealingly.
"Cab drivers are all deaf, aren't they?" Jim Forbes guffawed, slapping the cab driver on the back.
"Yes, sir," the man said, at first seriously. Then he laughed. But he said nothing more. He was in his twenties, with a large Afro.
"It really doesn't matter. You can tell me. This is the big city. Nothing shocks anyone here."
Linda was silent. Then she said, "I need some money, Mr. Forbes."
"Funny. I knew you were going to say that. How much?"
"Two hundred."
"How's three hundred? With a body like yours…"
Linda was shacked. Right in front of the cabbie he'd said it!
"I wish you wouldn't talk so loud."
"Driver, take me right to the Sheraton," Forbes directed.
"Yes, sir." The driver made a wild U-turn and pealed off in the opposite direction.
Jim patted Linda's hand. "Business is business," he said. "We can order drinks and a meal from room service. And get right down to work."
Perhaps it was better this way, Linda thought. Why was she feeling so cheap then? She didn't even feel horny. She studied Jim's crotch, hoping it would help.
He placed her hand on his lump. She felt his cock. He was large and hard. Thank God. Feeling his cock made her relax. She leaned over and kissed him hard. She put an arm around him.
The bellboy greeted Jim Forbes like an old friend and nodded at Linda. The two men seemed to exchange a knowing glance.
They went up to a suite of rooms on the seventh floor. Inside, in the spacious suite, they were alone. To Linda it was a great relief. She sank down on the large bed. Jim laid three crisp one-hundred dollar bills on the lamp table. Linda gawked. "There you are," he said. "I know you ladies of the night like your money up front."
"Oh, you're making a mistake. I've never done this before."
"I know," said Jim Forbes drily. "None of them have."
He didn't believe her, she thought. "But I haven't. Never. I need this money to take a course that begins tomorrow night. I'm married. I can't tell my husband."
Sitting there, Linda looked like a school girl, her long blond hair falling over her breasts, the green dress outlining her young, slim figure.
"What's the course?" He said.
"Assertiveness training," said Linda.
"I'd say you were assertive enough, my dear."
And that was all he said, except to add, "Take your clothes off. I haven't got much time."
She rose slowly and took off her clothes. She was quite confused. She was horny. But she had a slice of arrogance in her that didn't quite want Jim Forbes to get away with dismissing her so lightly.
"You'll hear of me someday," she chided him, removing her skirt and panties. He immediately stooped down and buried his face in her mop of blond pubic hair.
"I'm sure I will. Are you an actress?" he asked, in a muffled voice.
"Yes," said Linda, without a break in her tone. Yes, she would be an actress. She was sort of one already!
Now, that that was decided, she was elated. She felt his tongue in her pubic slit and she lay back and spread out on the bed. Oh, how wonderful it felt! Now she would get sex and three hundred dollars to boot. Not bad for an evening's work.
"Most men don't bother to do this with a prostitute," said Jim, as he ate her. "But I like my women hot."
"I'm not a prostitute." The word curdled her blood.
Linda pushed the label out of her mind. She would deal with it later.
She spread her thighs as far as they would go. She pulled Jim's head even further into her cunt, wanting his tongue to slice her in two.
"Nothing doing, baby. I'm calling the shots."
"Yes, sit," she said slowly. She wasn't afraid. She could be as calculating.
She paused and let go of his head. He pushed her thighs so far apart they hurt, but Linda refused to complain. In a funny way, it felt good. It felt good to have him in control. Sexy. She knew he wouldn't hurt her. Her thigh muscles ached.
His tongue went up her cunt hole now. It probed as deep as a tongue would go aid wound around and around the inner cunt walls.
"Ohhh, ohhhh, Jim, mmmmm, hhhhhh, oh, that feels sooooo good." Her hands went up under her bra and pulled her large breasts out, releasing them to her cupped, loving palms and letting the bra dangle like a collar around her neck.
"Sexy," said Jim, looking up from his kneeling position on the bed carpeted floor. His mouth and nose were dripping wet, dripping from his saliva and her juices.
Linda smiled. "You look funny," she said softly. "Shhhhh," he said, rose and thrust a finger up her at the same time. He stopped to remove the rest of his clothes then and dove into bed beside her.
"You're hot stuff, aren't you?" he said, burying his nose in her right tit. "Strange Frankie should send someone like you to me. It doesn't sound like Frankie."
"He didn't want to. I made him," Linda said quickly, anxious to clear the name of her friend.
"Assertive little bitch, aren't you?" said Jim. He lay over her and filled her mouth with his tongue. Then he ripped her bra off over her head, catching an edge of it in her eye. "Sorry," he said, then plunged his erect cock into her groin.
"Ow, take it easy," she said. "There's time." She grabbed his stiff tool, opened her thighs wide and eased it in.
He thrust hard up her. It would have hurt like hell if Linda hadn't been hot and greasy with her own juices. She gasped. It felt so damn good to have this hot man's cock in her tight juicy cunt.
"Mmmmmmm," she groaned, wanting him to make her come.
"Don't enjoy it too much," said Jim duly. "Remember, you're here to serve me. Come on, hump hard now." His head and mouth dipped down from the strenuous push-ups he was performing over her, and he lapped away at her tit. He bit her nipple hard.
"Ouch!" she cried out. But perversely the shock of pain aroused her more.
Then he bit her neck. He sucked her hard at the crook of her neck and bit her on the nape. It felt good. She hoped Tim wouldn't notice the love bite. God, she had to face her husband that night!
Put it out of your mind, she ordered herself.
"Put your legs around mine," Jim demanded.
She obeyed. "Higher," he said, "around my buttocks."
She did as she was, told.
"Now hard. Hump. Hump like you've never humped before!"
Linda thrust her pelvis up to meet his. It slapped loudly against Jim's groin. It also made her cunt open deep and swallow his cock up to the base.
"Nghghngh," she heard herself groan in satisfaction. He was so deep.
"Don't forget me," said Jim. "Don't enjoy it too much." He got up on his arms again and pumped hard. In and out, in and out. He socked it to her hard.
"Now fuck! Hard!" he ordered.
And she did. She fucked hard. She never fucked harder. She worked for her money. She was determined to earn it. And she never enjoyed sex so much in her life.
"Turn over," commanded Jim. He withdrew his cock from her pussy hole, dripping with juices.
She turned over and fell on her large boobies. "Get up on your haunches. Like the bitch that you are!"
Linda knew he meant it. She rose up and kneeled in front of him, her arms supporting her.
She felt his finger up her pussy hole and she spread her thighs to make room for him. She dropped her upper torso to the pillow. Her ass waved in the air.
She felt his large cockhead shove right into her expanded cunt hole. She gasped and nearly fainted with the sensation.
"Oh, my, oh, my!" she said, forgetting she wasn't to let him know how much she enjoyed it.
But this time he didn't seem to mind. He grabbed her around the waist and fucked her soundly. He thrust hard and her ass hurled back at him.
He reached around her and fondled her huge breasts.
"Mmmmmmm, mmmmmm," she crooned, to feel him pinch and nip her nipples with his thumb and forefinger.
"You've got some titties, baby," he crooned. He took them in his large hands and squeezed them like they were grapefruit.
Thank you, she wanted to say, but thought that would be out of place.
He slapped and pinched her ass cheeks. He reached around and felt for her clit and, finding it, began to rub and pinch it hard.
"Ohhhhhh, oh, ohhh," she moaned and spread her legs even wider.
Suddenly he withdrew and she felt his finger up her anus.
"Ow," she cried out, and before she knew it, the finger was gone, and his fat dick was raging into her, almost ripping her apart.
"Oh, oh, oh," she cried, the pain nearly killing her.
He pulled out suddenly, not wanting to hear her screams. "I'll get the Vaseline," he said automatically.
Young man in a hurry, she thought, as she lay on the bed. He's on a schedule and nothing can stop him. If I can only hang in there. She sighed.
He returned, a finger dripped in the petroleum jelly, which he dabbed in her rectum. Her butt twisted and writhed around his finger. Oh, that felt good. And healing.
In a moment her asshole was packed again with his cock. This time, though painful, it was less so, and there was pleasure, too.
"Try to relax," Jim directed. She could tell he was used to directing people.
He pulled his cock three quarters of the way out. Linda was gasping with pain-pleasure. Then he sent his shaft flying right back up her shit chute, her channel of pleasure.
As she shoved his sharp sword in and out of her asshole, his fingers were sawing in and out of her cunt hole, while one finger was doing a delightful dance on her sensitive clit. She was jumping with pleasure.
The sexual play was shocking and shooting her whole system, all at once. And three hundred dollars lay on the lamp table as an added commission. Could any girl be happier?
Linda was now in a state of mindless bliss. Her body was writhing and twisting on the bed, pelvis up, shoulders down. Her mouth was contorted in pleasure. She was panting hard, not from the exertion, because there was hardly any, but from the pleasure.
He was pumping hard now. He was pumping home, she thought. She'd reached several climaxes already, the deep satisfying kind, not the nervous, flighty kind that came and went quickly.
Jim's two fingers pumped in and out of her twat. They thrust deeply inside her cunt and twisted and turned around her cunt walls, feeling every muscle and making the pliant, pliable hole twitch excitedly, satisfyingly.
The finger of the other hand rubbed hard over her clit, relaxed her whole groin, and made the electric impulses course through her cunt.
Linda was at his mercy. Putty. She felt something bigger than she was take off inside her body. She'd lost all her control. A huge wave of orgasm welled up somewhere in her and passed through her nervous system. It shook her to the core. She heard herself scream. Growl. Cry out with infinite pleasure. And weep when it was over.
"Ohhhhhhh," she cried. "Oh, Jim, ohh, it's so wonderful. Wonderful. Oh, just fuck me now! Please!"
He removed his dick from her shit chute and plunged it into her pussy. Then he fucked her till she was on the brink of passing out.
Soon his cock was gushing into her wet cunt hole. She felt it spray against her cunt walls and then dribble slowly out of her.
Linda was chuckling with pleasure now. Never had she felt so good. She reached beneath her and patted his balls. She squeezed his thighs, dark with hair.
Jim barely made a sound when he came except to say, "Shit, you're a good fuck, kid." He finally pulled out and rolled over beside her, lighting a cigar he fetched from his pants. "You could make millions."
"I'd rather do it another way," said Linda. "Really."
He looked at her disbelievingly. "Well, you won't in the theater," he said. "There's not much money to be made, except for the very few. Unless you get a TV series or something like that. There are more hungry actors around than in any other profession I know. Look, let's order something from room service. How about roast beef sandwiches? Wine? I've got to get back. But you can stay here all night and I'll come visit you tomorrow."
"I'd really rather get back to Livermore," she said. "I've a husband to go home to. Until I'm financially on my own, that," she added.
"I would say you an right now," said. Jim, glancing at the money, frowning. "But have it your way. Can I put you on the train?"
"The bus," said Linda. "I've got a return ticket. No sense in wasting it."
"The train might have a few more respectable customers. Everyone that rides a bus is poor."
"I'm not hooking any more," said Linda sharply, using the word distastefully. She nabbed a soft hand all over her satiated body, and eyed the three green bills on the table.
It was the last time she ever wanted to hear that word.