SIX
A couple of nights later, we had a visitor.
When the door bell rang, I figured it was one of our acquaintances from
the neighborhood, since nobody else generally came around unexpectedly. I pushed
the buzzer to open the downstairs door--we once had a two-way speaker, but that
was broken--and then went out in the hall to see who it was.
Our apartment was three flights up, so I had to wait while he climbed
the stairs. It took him a while. When I saw him, I nearly fell over. It was old
Mr. Harris.
He was dressed in his usual somber three-piece business suit, and
carried an expensive-looking attache case. He gave he his creepy smile as he
mounted the last flight of steps.
"Forgive me for keeping you waiting, Mr. Wulf," he said a little
breathlessly. "But at my age all these stairs become a bit formidable. I do hope
I'm not intruding."
I shrugged, not knowing what to say. "No. Come on in."
"Thank you." Having arrived at the top of the stairs, he entered the
apartment. I could see that Pat was at least as surprised to see him as I was.
"Ah," he sighed. "The lovely Patricia. So nice to see you again, my
dear. I must apologize for arriving unannounced in this manner. I am glad I
found you in. May I sit down?"
"Please do," Pat said. She offered him something to drink--not that we
had much--and he accepted a glass of wine.
He then proceeded to make small talk, while I wondered what the hell he
was doing there. Finally I asked him what we could do for him.
He sipped his wine. "Ah, yes," he said. "Well. Not to beat around the
bush, so to speak--the fact is, I was much charmed--much charmed indeed--upon
meeting your lovely young lady the other night."
"Well, thank you," Pat said.
He smiled at her. "Not at all, my dear." He turned back to me. "I found
her most attractive," he said. "Extremely so, in fact."
"I think so too," I said, wondering what this was all about.
Harris sipped some more wine. "The vision of Patricia has, in fact, been
in my mind ever since," he went on in the same calm voice. "And I have come to
the conclusion that I would very much like to make love to her."
I stared at him, too dumfounded to say anything at first. Pat was
staring, too. He seemed completely unaware of our reactions.
"And since you have had the pleasure of making love to my dear wife,
Emma--a pleasure since shared by most of your co-workers, of course, but none
the less valuable for that--I thought perhaps we could arrange an exchange of
favors...a quid pro quo, so to--"
I was on my feet. "Get the hell out of here," I said.
He held up a hand at me. "Please. There is no need for belligerence. I
am merely offering a suggestion--"
"The suggestion stinks," I said, taking a step toward him. "Now beat
it!"
But he didn't move. "Perhaps," he said, in the same calm tone, "we
should ask the lady's opinion."
I was ready to grab him and throw him down the stairs, but Pat stopped
me. "Mel, wait!"
I looked at her. She had recovered from her initial surprise, and I
could see that, though she was angry too, she had herself under better control
than I did. Maybe she was even a little amused by the horny old bastard.
She turned to him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Harris," she said evenly. "Thank you
anyway, but I'm afraid I'm not interested."
He smiled at her. "I understand, my dear, of course. I am well aware
that I am lacking those attributes of youth and physical attractiveness which
make Mr. Wulf so desirable to women. However, I had not finished outlining my
suggestion when your young man's impetuosity got the better of him."
"Look--" I began.
"Please," Harris said. "Allow me to continue. It can do neither of you
any harm to listen. If, when I have finished, you wish me to leave, I assure you
I will do so without troubling you further."
I looked at Pat. She shrugged, as if to say, humor him. I sat down,
fuming.
"Thank you, my dear. It's really very simple. To compensate for
my...natural shortcomings, I propose to offer you something else."
"And what might that be?" Pat asked coolly.
"Money," Harris said.
Now Pat was really angry. I could see a little red spot high on each
cheek. "No, thank you," she said, her voice icy but trembling a little. "Now if
you've quite finished..."
"Not quite," Harris said. "I have not yet mentioned the sum I am
prepared to offer."
"It doesn't matter," Pat said. "I don't sleep with people for money, and
certainly not you. Please leave now."
"You heard her," I said, starting to get up again.
"Shall we say," Harris murmured, "ten thousand dollars?"
I stared at him again. For a minute I was speechless. Then I had to
laugh, more out of amazement than anything else. "Jesus," I said, shaking my
head. "You really do go after what you want, don't you? But the answer is no.
You can't just buy up everything you like, for Christ sake. Now if you don't get
the hell out of here--"
He ignored me. "Patricia?" he said.
I turned to look at her. She looked stunned. The red spots had
disappeared, and if anything she seemed pale. She was gazing at Harris, but I
couldn't tell what she was thinking.
"Tell him to screw off," I said.
She looked at me, her face still blank, then looked back at him. Her
mouth opened, then closed. She swallowed.
"Ten thousand dollars?" she whispered.
There was a glitter in Harris' eyes which I didn't like a bit. "In
cash," he said softly. He indicated the attache case, on the floor by his feet.
"I have it right here."
"Come on, Pat," I said roughly. "Tell him to go fuck himself."
She looked at me again. "I...Mel..." she breathed. "Ten thousand
dollars!"
I was getting nervous. "So what?" I almost yelled. "For god's sake,
you're not considering this?!"
Her eyes dropped. "I--I don't know..."
"Pat!"
"Ten thousand dollars," she repeated. "My god, Mel, we... Think what
that means," she said, looking back up at me. "I could finish school on that. We
both could."
"No, goddamit! What's the matter with you?"
She gazed at me for another moment, then turned back to Harris.
"What...what would I have to do?" she whispered.
Harris shrugged very slightly. "Nothing very extraordinary," he said.
His manner was as unruffled as ever, but the glitter was still in his eyes. "As
I said, I would like to make love to you. Or perhaps I should more accurately
say, WITH you. At my age, I prefer not to expend too much unnecessary energy. I
would, therefore, take the bottom position--putting you in the more... active
role." He took a sip of his wine. "Once is all I ask," he went on. "Here and
now. After that, you are under no further obligation."
I was up and ready to throw him out again. "Mel, no!" Pat said swiftly.
I turned to her. "Forget it!" I shouted. "You're out of your mind for
even thinking of such a thing! Now I'm throwing him the hell out of here, and
that's it!"
She came close to me, holding on to my arm and looking up at me. Her
eyes were pleading, defiant and uncertain all at once. "Mel, listen. It's only
once. That's all. And all that money...It wouldn't mean anything, Mel, it's
only--"
I pulled away from her. "Are you crazy?! Jesus, I don't believe this!
You can't just...Christ, you can't..."
She flared up at me. "Why not? Why the hell not? You made it with his
wife, didn't you? AND that maid or whatever she is. So why shouldn't I? What's
the difference?"
"The difference is, at least I was turned on!" I yelled. "But you're not
attracted to this old fart! You'd just be doing it for the money. And you know
what that would make you!"
She stared at me, her face white, her mouth open. Then she turned away.
After a moment she said in a very low voice: "I want that money. I'm going to do
it."
My knees felt weak. I sat down. "I don't believe you," I said hoarsely.
"I'm going to do it," she repeated. Then: "Go away, Mel. Go out for a
while. Come back later."
"The hell I will," I said. "I'm staying right here!"
"Mel, please. Go away."
"No way," I said stubbornly. "Anything you want to do, you do it right
here. In front of me. I'm staying."
"We'll go in the bedroom, then," Pat said. Her voice was unsteady.
"I'll go in there too," I said.
Pat looked at Harris. He gave his little shrug again. "I don't mind," he
said. "In fact, I rather like the idea. It adds to the titillation, having the
boy friend watch."
I wanted to kill him. But I sat there. There was a long silence. Then
Pat said, "I want the money."
Harris reached for the attache case, put it on his lap and opened it. It
was filled with little packets of bills. Hundred-dollar bills. Around each
packet was a piece of paper with "$1,000" printed on it. Harris counted out ten
of the packets, closed the case, put it down, then rose and walked over to a
table on one side of the room and put the money down on it.
He then began to take off his clothes.
He undressed very methodically, putting his clothing fastidiously over
an empty chair. His body was skinny and pale, and his cock looked shriveled.
Naked, he walked back to the couch and sat down. He kept his glasses on.
"Very well, my dear," he said softly. "Undress, please."
I saw Pat swallow hard, and for a long moment she didn't move. She was
wearing a loose brown pullover blouse over a pair of green slacks. She stood
facing the couch on which Harris was sitting, but she didn't look at him. Or at
me either.
Finally, with a jerky movement, her hands went to the hem of the blouse.
Lips tight, she pulled it up over her head. She had on a white bra underneath
it.
I felt a little sick as I saw old Harris' eyes gleam at the sight of the
smooth, sensuous flesh with which I was so familiar. I was to feel a lot sicker.
Patricia dropped the blouse on the chair she had been sitting in. Still
not looking at either of us, she began to undo the slacks. She got them open and
pushed them down. She kicked off her shoes so she could step out of them. She
didn't bother to pick them up.
Pat had fine legs, and their delicious beauty struck me anew as I saw
them now through Harris' lecherous eyes. I felt my hands tightening into fists,
and I made a deliberate effort to relax. If this was what she wanted...
Standing in just bra and panties, Pat hesitated again. I thought--I
hoped--she was not going to be able to go through with it. But then she brought
her hands behind her and unhooked the brassiere.
And took it off.
My stomach turned over as I watched Harris' glittering old eyes devour
her naked breasts. They were larger than his wife's breasts, though not as big
as Jessica's. But they were beautifully proportioned, rounded and firm, with
lovely deep-red nipples. Harris made a soft sighing sound.
Patricia took off her panties.
"Lovely," Harris murmured, after a short pause. "Lovely, indeed." His
cock was not shriveled any more. It was standing up, white and not especially
big, but definitely capable. After gazing at Pat's nakedness for another moment,
he lay down on his back on the couch. "Very well, my dear," he said.
Pat walked toward him. I didn't want to watch any more. But I did.
She got onto the couch and knelt above him, straddling his body. She
stiffened slightly as he raised one hand to her breast, but did not pull away.
The hand cupped the breast and stayed there, stroking it and squeezing it
softly.
With a pale but determined face, she lowered herself slowly to make
contact with his straining prick, reaching down to adjust it at the entrance to
her vagina. I could tell she wasn't ready to take it; but with a kind of grim
purposefulness she forced the tip of it inside her, and then began to work
herself down over it.
Harris' eyes closed, a blissful expression coming over his face as Pat
took him inside her, inch by inch. She had to wiggle around and move her hips up
and down a little to accomplish the penetration, which obviously added to his
pleasure.
At last she had taken it all in. She paused for only a moment, her
breath ragged, and then with the same dogged purpose she began to screw him,
raising and lowering her body with a steady, mechanical motion.
The old man gave a moan of delight and opened his eyes again, watching
her as she rose and fell on his cock. His hand dropped from her breast and lay,
with sickening possessiveness, on the smooth flesh of her thigh as it pumped up
and down.
"Beautiful," he breathed. Then: "Just a bit faster, please."
Pat moved faster. Her face was white and expressionless. Her breasts
bounced with her movements. She began to pant a little from her exertions. A
drop of sweat rolled down her side.
It went on for what seemed like a very long time. Pat worked steadily,
doggedly away. Harris was obviously enjoying himself, but showed no signs of
coming.
Finally he spoke. "You're wonderful, my dear," he said, a little
hoarsely. "Just lovely. I would like nothing better than to draw this out
indefinitely. But I must not take advantage. I would like to ask one thing more,
however. To cap this truly memorable experience, I would appreciate it immensely
if you would finish me off, so to speak...with your mouth."
My hands clenched into fists again, and I could feel the blood pounding
in my head.
Pat stopped moving. For the first time, she looked directly into the old
man's face. There was anger in her eyes.
"No," she said, her voice breathless but firm. "That wasn't part of the
bargain."
"I realize that," Harris said. "I will add another ten thousand
dollars."
For a long moment Pat didn't move. There was a silence in the room.
And then she raised her body, letting his penis slide out of her. She
swung herself off him and stood up by the side of the couch. Then she knelt down
on the floor. She never looked at me. She bent over him and took his cock into
her mouth.
Harris gasped sharply. Pat's head began to move.
She sucked him mechanically, her mouth sliding up and down on his prick
as if her head was being manipulated by a puppet master. It was a far cry from
the loving, sweetly erotic way in which she had often performed this act on me.
But somehow that didn't make me feel much better.
It didn't seem to bother Harris, though. His gasps and moans got
steadily louder, and his body began to squirm on the couch. It was clear he
wasn't going to last much longer. Pat kept dutifully on, her lips clasped
tightly around the appearing and disappearing phallus, never varying the tempo
of her bobbing head.
At last Harris' hips arched, and a loud cry tore from his throat as he
came, exploding over and over into her mouth. His climax was surprisingly
protracted. I saw Pat swallow involuntarily, and a trickle of white sperm
dripped out of the corner of her mouth and ran down her chin. Then he subsided,
panting harshly.
Pat rose to her feet, wiping at her mouth. I saw that there were tears
in her eyes. Without a word or a glance, she went out of the room. I heard her
go into the bathroom and close the door.
Harris sat up slowly. My head was spinning. I felt completely drained of
strength, as if I would never be able to move again. And at the same time, I
felt that if the son of a bitch said one word to me, I would jump on him and
kill him with my bare hands.
Maybe he felt that, because he glanced at me and started to say
something, but then changed his mind. He got up, a little heavily, and then went
to where his clothes were and began to dress, not hurriedly but not taking his
time either. When he had tied his necktie and put on his vest and jacket, he
picked up the attache case again and opened it. he counted out another ten
thousand, and put it on the table beside the first.
He turned to me then and again started to say something, but again
thought better of it. With one of his little half-shrugs, he went to the door,
opened it and went out, closing it behind him. I heard him going down the
stairs.
I still didn't move. I could hear Pat brushing her teeth in the
bathroom, and then I heard the shower going. It went on for a long time. Finally
it stopped, and after a minute Pat came out. She had on her blue terry-cloth
robe and slippers, and her hair was damp.
As she came in she glanced at me, then swiftly looked away. She was
nervous. She went to the table where the money was piled and looked down at it
without touching it.
"Wow!" she said, with false brightness. "We're rich!"
I didn't say anything.
With strangely awkward movments, she gathered up her discarded clothes
and took them into the bedroom, then came back and sat down. I watched her.
Finally she took a deep breath and met my eyes.
"All right, come on, Mel," she said then. "Let's not make a big thing
out of it, okay? I mean, it's done and it's over and we've got a lot of money.
So let's just forget about it now."
"Just like that?" I said bitterly.
She got up and came over to me, kneeling down by my chair. "Please, Mel.
Don't be angry. Please. What good does it do? It's over."
"Jesus Christ," I said.
"Stop looking at me like that," she said in a low voice. "All right, I
made it with a guy for money. Does that make me a whore? Does it?"
"What would you say?" I said.
She looked up at me, her eyes bruised. "All right. I'm a whore. Now
what? What do you want me to do? Do you want to punch me? Hit me? Would that
make you feel better?"
"I don't know," I said. "Maybe. If you want to know the truth, right now
I feel like beating the shit out of you."
She looked at me for another moment. "Then do it," she said flatly.
I didn't move.
"I mean it," she said. Her voice was strange. "I'm a whore and I should
be punished. Punish me."
There was something in her eyes I'd never seen before. I wasn't sure
what it was. I wasn't sure what the strange thing I was feeling was, either.
"Stand up," I said.
She stood up.
I reached for the belt of her robe and untied it, then pulled it out of
the loops and held it in my hands. The robe opened down the front. Pat didn't
move.
"Take that off," I said.
She slid the robe off and dropped it to the floor, standing naked before
me.
"Turn around."
She obeyed.
"Put your hands behind you."
She did so, and I wrapped the soft belt around her wrists and tied them
together. She made a tiny sound in her throat as I fastened the knot.
"Come here." I took her arm and turned her around, then pulled her down
over my lap like a naughty child. She lay across my thighs, her legs stretched
out on one side, her head hanging down on the other, with her hair dangling to
the floor. Her firm, rounded ass thrust up at me.
I hit it with my hand as hard as I could.
I heard her cry out in pain, and then I hit her again. And again. And
again.
I couldn't stop hitting her. She cried and yelled. She howled and
sobbed. She squirmed and wriggled on my lap, her body jerking with each blow,
her bound hands struggling and clawing at the air.
But she never asked me to stop.
When I did stop, finally, it was only because my hand was stinging like
hell and my arm felt as though it was about to fall off. I was panting--but only
partly because I was winded. I let her go, and she wiggled off my lap and fell
to the floor.
She landed on her bruised rump, which made her scream and sent her
rolling over onto her stomach. I looked at her lying there, her body squirming
with pain, sobbing into the carpet, her ass red and sore, her hands still tied
behind her--and suddenly there was a red mist in front of my eyes, and my head
felt like it was about to explode. And my cock was trying to burst through my
pants like a wild animal.
I practically ripped my pants getting them open and pushing them and my
shorts down to my ankles. I didn't have time for anything else. I fell on top of
her prone body, and without conscious thought I got my hands on her battered
buttocks and pulled at them, spreading them wide apart and exposing her crinkled
asshole. My cock found its way there as if with a mind of its own, and my brain
belatedly flashed on the fact that I had to fuck her now in a place where Harris
had not been.
She cried out with fresh pain as I forced my raging prick into the
tightly resisting hole. I had taken her this way before, but only with much
preparation, using vaseline and taking it slow. This was different.
She yelled again when I breached her sphincter muscle. Fury and a dark
joy pounded through me and I pushed on, plowing more deeply into her clutching
rear tunnel. "Take it, whore," I heard myself saying in a savage tone. "Take it
up the ass!"
And then I heard Pat's voice, distorted with pain. "Yes!" she sobbed.
"Yes, Mel! Do it! Do it to me!"
I fucked her then, fucked her harder and more brutally than I had ever
done before, pounding into her mercilessly stretched anal passage, my hips
slapping sharply and rhythmically against her abused ass cheeks. She still
squalled and sobbed, and her body writhed and squirmed beneath me. I felt the
twisting of her bound hands against my stomach. But as I continued to batter at
her, feeling all my rage and lust boiling up toward the inevitable explosion,
her hips began to rise and fall in a jerky rhythm, matching themselves to my
thrusts. Her agonized cries took on a new quality, and I knew it had gotten to
her and that she was on her way, too.
I moved faster and harder then, some perverse fury in me wanting to deny
her her climax, to achieve mine and leave her unfulfilled. But the more savagely
I fucked her, the more she seemed to respond. Her squalling turned into a series
of broken wails, getting higher and higher in pitch as her body arched and
bucked under me.
As I felt myself approaching the giddy point of no return, I wedged my
hands beneath her to grab her breasts, squeezing them as hard as I could. At the
same time, I let my weight drop completely onto her, crushing the breath out of
her. But at the moment I felt myself burst open, I also felt her body spasming
wildly, flopping disjointedly beneath my weight as she gasped out her orgasm,
her asshole tightening spastically on my cock as it shot my fury-filled load
deep into her rectum.
I may have blacked out for a second; I'm not sure how long it was before
I rolled off her and lay motionless on my back on the carpet, panting and
sweating but feeling completely numb, completely void, unable to think, and not
wanting to. I was dimly aware of Pat sobbing softly, but after a while she
stopped.
Finally, and almost reluctantly, I began to come back to myself. I sat
up. Pat was still lying there, and I saw almost with shock that her hands were
still tied. I reached for the cloth belt to untie it.
"Don't," Pat said.
I looked at her, almost afraid to meet her eyes. Her face looked
different, somehow. Softer. And her eyes were looking back at me with an
expression of...well, the word I thought of was adoration.
I didn't know what to say to her. "Don't you want me to untie you?" I
asked stupidly.
She shook her head. "Lie down," she said softly.
I did so. I was still feeling a bit unreal. After a moment Pat slid
herself over to me, lying on her side next to me, and for a brief minute she
nuzzled her head against my shoulder. Then I felt her lips on me, kissing my
chest. She nibbled teasingly at my nipple through the cloth of my shirt, and
then she shifted herself and her mouth moved down my body.
Her lips and tongue slid over my bare stomach, and I felt the soft
caress of her hair on my flesh. Then she was crouched over my crotch, the long
dark hair tickling my loins.
"Pat..." I began, but before I could say anything more she had taken my
limp, soiled penis into her mouth. In its present state she could easily take it
all, and she did, holding it gently between her lips and closing her mouth
around it, softly, wetly, warmly.
I gasped as I felt her begin to stroke it with her tongue, licking up
and down the underside, slowly and lovingly. Then she ran her tongue all around
it, as though deliberately licking off the sticky residue of our recent fuck.
I had thought there was no way I could get hard again, but I felt
definite tingles in my cock--and the rest of my body--as Patricia went on, and
soon I was aware that I was growing steadily inside her mouth. Before long I was
almost fully erect, and Pat gave a little sigh of satisfaction and began to
slide her soft lips up and down my stiffening prick.
I raised myself on my elbows and watched her. It gave me a jolt I hadn't
expected, to see this lovely young girl sucking me in such a slavish manner,
with her hands tied behind her. It made my cock quickly stiffen the rest of the
way, until it was as hard as before.
Pat raised her eyes to mine, and kept them on me while she continued to
suck. My mouth went dry.
After a minute she released me, but kept her mouth near my cock, her
lips moving against it as she spoke.
"Do you like me this way?" she asked softly.
"Yeah," I rasped.
"Good." Her tongue came out and licked my prick. I shivered. "Will you
fuck me again?" she said.
I had to swallow. "Yeah."
She went back to sucking me for a minute, then stopped again. "How will
you do it?" she said. I felt her breath on my cock.
"I don't care," I said. "I just want you."
"Will you tie me up?"
"Jesus," I said. "You ARE tied up."
"Not like this. More."
"What do you mean?"
There was a pause. She kissed my prick. "Like her," she whispered.
"Who?" I said, although I knew who she meant.
"Emma," she breathed. "Tie me like that. Hand and foot. Stretched out.
Spread open. Just like Emma."
