by 26 Nights (Memoirs of a Contemporary Gentleman) [MF] (retail) (epub)
I envisioned being discovered and barred from the tennis center for life. But as Dolo slipped off the rest of her things, I began to strip also, and in a moment we were both in the shower area, with warm water cascading over our naked bodies.
Dolorosa grinned hugely as she looked down at my growing erection. “You liking me, yes?” she gurgled. “You like me for good tennis player?”
“I like you because you’re a gorgeous and sexy woman,” I said, and reached for her. She came up against me and we kissed. Her mouth was hot and open, and she purred into my throat as our bodies slithered against each other.
We were both panting when we broke apart. “Is so good when I win,” she breathed. “I am not care, me. We do big fuck, yes? Now, yes?”
“It does look that way,” I said, and grabbed her again. I meant to pull her down to the tiled floor, but she backed up against the wall, out of the direct spray of the shower, taking me with her. With her arms tight around my neck, she raised her legs and wrapped them around me, as though trying to climb up my body. I clutched at her tight buttocks, helping her, lifting her up, until I was able to join our bodies, and she sank down over my stiffness with a shout of joy, those marvelous legs squeezing me harder than ever.
She cried out a stream of Spanish as we began to move together. I was overwhelmed by the sensations of her breasts sliding on my chest, the clutch of her legs and the springy sinuosity of her writhing body. As we settled into a strong, steady rhythm she fell back into her strongly accented broken English.
“Is good, yes? … Is good fuck when I win … I be number one … Ah, hard now, yes … you like it, no?”
I liked it. We both liked it a hell of a lot, and we were moving faster. Dolo’s breathless monologue was reverting to Spanish again, when over the sound of the still-running shower we heard feminine voices, feminine laughter. Someone had come into the locker room.
Well, it was too late. At that point I couldn’t have stopped if I’d wanted to, and I had resigned myself to discovery; but Dolorosa (without missing a beat) called loudly: “No! Go away, you! Is busy here! Yes?”
The voices went silent. Then after a moment one female voice spoke clearly. “Oh, Christ,” it said. “LaPensa must have won again.” There were giggles, and then another voice said, “Well, hurry up, okay?” And then they were gone.
“What happened?” I asked.
Dolo laughed triumphantly. “I win them too,” she gasped out, still moving. “They know I best … Dolorosa one day … champion … all know this … good play … good fuck … yes I win … I win … I win!”
Actually we both won.
After which we collapsed to the floor, and after a few minutes managed to crawl under the shower again. As soon as I could I began to get up, but Dolorosa protested.
“I have to get out of here,” I said weakly. “Your friends want to get in.”
“They wait,” she said firmly. “First I am show you what else I good at.”
And she did.
When I finally emerged from the locker room there were several women waiting. I felt myself flushing as I started past them.
“She’s good when she wins, right?” one of them said, and the others laughed raucously.
I tried to grin back at them through my embarrassment. “What happens when she loses?”
“You don’t want to know,” the woman answered.
“Miss Greenglass,” I said. “Please send a note to Mrs. Mergandahl expressing my regret that I wasn’t able to join her at the Open this afternoon.”
“Of course, Mr. Walling,” Miss Greenglass said.
The woman was maddening. “Don’t you want to know why?” I demanded.
“I’m sure you will tell me,” the lady said calmly. “In fact, Mr. Walling, I’m sure you will be unable not to tell me.” And, as always, she was right.
Chapter 5
EVEN YOU,” I SAID TO MISS GREENGLASS, “CANNOT say that I am not being punctilious about this. Although it seems perfectly valid to me, I don’t wish to run afoul of any more hidden conditions, such as with Betty. So I would just like to establish beforehand—”
“I must object to your reference to ‘hidden conditions,’ Mr. Walling,” Miss Greenglass said sharply. “The conditions were, and are, entirely plain and aboveboard. The fact that Betty is not a proper name can hardly be—”
“All right,” I said, putting up my hands. “All right. Fine. I’m just trying to forestall any further problems of that sort by checking with you up front, as they say. This has to do with Betty, as a matter of fact. When I spent that night with her—”
“In violation of the rules—”
“Inadvertent violation—”
“Which, I might add, I very generously overlooked—”
“Which was only fair,” I said. “However, as you so quickly pointed out, Betty’s proper name—technically speaking—is Elizabeth. And now that I have progressed to E …”
“You plan to take advantage of that circumstance by sleeping with her again,” Miss Greenglass said. If Miss Greenglass had been in the habit of sniffing, this would certainly have been an occasion for it.
“It seems only logical,” I said. “And not only would it take me on to F, but it would be a nice gesture to Betty—ah, Elizabeth. The woman keeps calling me for a repeat performance. It would be simply common decency.”
“Your altruism is overwhelming,” Miss Greenglass said dryly.
“But, as I say, I want to prevent any future problems; so if there are any technical objections to this plan …”
Miss Greenglass was silent for a moment. “No,” she said finally. “I suppose there are none. Technically. However, Mr. Walling, as I have said before, the fact that you have a virtually endless list of previous conquests does rather ease your task, does it not?”
“Now wait a minute,” I protested. “That’s not really fair, Miss Greenglass. After all, of the four ladies who have—ah—contributed to my progress in our wager so far, only one of them—Belinda—has been what you are pleased to call a previous conquest. And that was only because of the Betty business.”
Miss Greenglass pointedly did not sniff again.
“However,” I went on, “I must say I rather resent the implication that I could not accomplish the same task if quote, previous conquests, unquote, were eliminated. Now, since we did not establish that rule, I won’t say that I will definitely add that burden to my challenge—after all, when I get to X, it may be quite helpful to be able to look up that Xanthippe I once mentioned—but I will, for my own pride, attempt to limit myself, as much as practical, to ladies not formerly enjoyed by me. Does that meet with your approval, Miss Greenglass?”
“To quote you, Mr. Walling, it seems only fair.”
“But please remember that it is not a hard and fast rule,” I said. “I wonder what happened to Xanthippe, anyway? But I shall start by finding myself another E, which should not be too difficult. Poor Elizabeth.”
I think Miss Greenglass actually did sniff that time. I wouldn’t swear to it.
It was true that Betty had been calling me rather persistently; our amorous experiment with the Chinese food, and its aftermath, was evidently a most pleasant memory to her. It was to me also, I hasten to add, and actually I regretted giving up the idea of another encounter with that deliciously voluptuous and inventive body. But Miss Greenglass had piqued my pride, and I determined to tell Betty the whole story as soon as possible, as a way, I hoped, of letting her down easy.
With this in mind, I invited her to lunch—at Lutèce, where she had wanted to go at our first meeting.
But she was ahead of me. “I know why you’ve been avoiding me,” she told me when we had ordered. “I got it out of Abigail.” (Abigail, as faithful readers will remember, had been the initial step in my current project, and had actually recommended Betty to me.) “I’ve been complaining to her about your neglect after our night together,” Betty went on, “so finally she told me about that silly bet. H
onestly, you men! But that’s all right. Did you get to E yet? Do you know that my real name is Elizabeth?”
“Actually yes, I do,” I said, and then told her about the complications that fact had caused—and also, rather apologetically, about my need now to find a different E lady.
Betty’s face darkened. “Oh,” she said. “I see.”
There was a long pause.
“I’m sorry, Betty,” I said finally. “I know it seems silly, but—”
“Wait,” Betty said. “I’m thinking.”
I waited.
“I have an idea,” Betty said.
“You do?” I said. “What kind of idea?”
“I know somebody,” Betty said.
“Really?” I said. “Somebody named Elaine, perhaps? Eloise? Euphronia?”
“Edna,” she said.
“Edna?” I was dubious. Edna sounded like someone in a gingham apron on a farm in Iowa, picking preserves or whatever they do.
Betty smiled faintly. She fished in her pocketbook, found a small leather folder and pulled out a photograph. “That’s Edna,” she said, handing it to me.
The girl in that picture never wore gingham in her life.
“You actually carry her picture around with you?” I said, still perusing the photograph.
“Yes,” Betty said. “Edna’s a good friend of mine. A very good friend.”
“Oh?” I said. “How good?”
“Very good.”
“I see,” I said.
“And if I recommend you …”
“You ladies seem to have a veritable referral service,” I said. “From Abigail to you to Edna.”
“No, no,” Betty said. “This is different. This is hardly Abigail’s cup of tea. Abigail would be shocked. And there’s a condition.”
“Uh-oh,” I said. “What condition?”
“I want to watch,” Betty said.
“You want to watch?” I said. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, I am,” Betty said. “It should be a kick.”
It was my turn to stop and think. Exhibitionism has never had any special appeal to me, but then, I have nothing in particular against it either. And I am certainly open to new experiences. Furthermore, judging from the photograph, Edna would be an experience worth having.
She looked about twenty-five, with a slender but by no means unfeminine figure, very short black hair, piercing dark eyes, and a direct, almost defiant gaze which for some reason struck me as being extremely provocative.
However, tempting as Edna was, there were other factors to consider. “When you say watch,” I said carefully, “you do mean just that? I mean, you understand that you and I can’t—ah—enjoy each other again. Especially if Edna and I—”
“I understand the rules, Steven,” Betty said, with some asperity. “I think I can manage to control myself.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay,” Betty said. “I think you and Edna should make for an interesting show. I’m sure I’ll be quite turned on. But don’t worry, Steven—I won’t try to participate.” She smiled slightly. Then she said, “Not with you, anyway.”
Betty was confident that Edna would have no objection to her idea—or to me—and rejected my proposal that we have dinner together, or at least some kind of preliminary meeting, to allow her to make a decision on the matter. “It’ll be fine,” Betty insisted. “All you have to do is show up, Steven. If she doesn’t like you she can say so then, all right?”
“Or if I don’t like her,” I suggested.
“Fat chance,” Betty said.
We arranged that we would all congregate at Betty’s apartment that very evening, provided Edna was free; and later that afternoon Betty called me to tell me that it was arranged. When I hung up the phone I turned to Miss Greenglass, who had been taking dictation from me directly on her keyboard. Without, needless to say, error.
“That was Betty—ah, Elizabeth,” I told her. “It appears I am about to pass the E mark, Miss Greenglass—although not with the beauteous Betty herself.” I then told her about Betty’s plan, watching her carefully for any signs of shock or discomfort. Of course there were none; her face was as calm and unreadable as ever.
“How interesting,” she said when I finished. “It sounds like a rather volatile situation, however, Mr. Walling. You know that if you should—”
“I won’t touch her,” I promised. “I won’t lay a finger on her.” Then after a moment I said slyly, “Of course, if you would like to assure yourself of that, you might wish to join Elizabeth as part of the audience. I’m sure the ladies wouldn’t mind.”
Miss Greenglass favored me with her most Greenglassian look. “Thank you so much, Mr. Walling. But I regret I will be unable to take advantage of your gracious invitation.”
“What a surprise,” I said.
Edna was already there when I arrived at Betty’s apartment. In person she was even more attractive than in her picture. She was casually dressed in a kind of one-piece jumpsuit which fit her slim body tightly and emphasized its lissome curviness. As Betty introduced us she looked me up and down with frank appraisal.
“Betty tells me you’re quite a stud,” were her first words.
I attempted to look modest, something at which I am not overly skilled. “Betty is too kind,” I said.
“Well,” Edna said. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”
Betty grinned. “You’re not feeling any pressure or anything, are you, Steven? Just because I gave you a really big build-up. And because Edna can be very critical when it comes to men’s performances. And because I’m going to be here watching everything all the time. All that’s not going to give you any problems, is it?”
I wondered if this was supposed to be some form of revenge on Betty’s part for what she saw as my rejection of her. Also, she was dressed very provocatively, in a tight, low-cut blouse and short skirt, as if to tempt me into breaking the rules. I just grinned back at her, then turned back to Edna, running my eyes obviously over her figure.
“No,” I said then. “I don’t think I’ll have any problem at all.”
“Well, good,” Betty said. “Okay then, let’s get started. Edna, why don’t you take your clothes off?”
“Hold on,” Edna said. “Are you directing this scene?”
“Why not?” Betty said.
“I don’t take directions,” Edna said.
“Okay,” Betty said. “Sorry. I just thought it would be logical for you to take your clothes off.”
“If you want my clothes off,” Edna said, “why don’t you take them off?”
Something changed in Betty’s face. “Would you like me to?”
“Sure,” Edna said. “But why don’t you take yours off first?”
There was a pause.
“Should I?” Betty said then.
“Why not?” Edna said. “You don’t mind if Betty goes naked, now do you, Steven?”
“Well, no, I guess not,” I said. “But—”
But Betty was already stripping. I remembered that voluptuous body all too well, the bounteous breasts and the fine legs and the beckoning red patch of pubic hair; and I felt myself becoming aroused as it was revealed to me again. Betty took off everything.
“Now mine,” Edna said.
Betty approached Edna and reached for the zipper at her throat. But somehow her hands got distracted, and instead she was suddenly caressing Edna’s breasts through the smooth material of the jumpsuit. “Oh,” Edna said. “That’s nice,” and put her hands on Betty’s body.
Then they kissed.
I felt quite superfluous. “Ah … ladies …” I said.
“It’s all right,” Edna said, as Betty now found the zipper and pulled it down. “Everything’s cool. Go with the flow, okay?”
I was willing to go with the flow, but the flow seemed to be going away from me. I began to feel foolish standing around, so I sat down in a convenient chair and watched Betty pry Edna out of her suit. Edna wasn�
�t wearing a bra. Her breasts were not large, but were firm and flawless, with unusually long nipples. Betty kissed them, first one and then the other. Then Edna kissed Betty’s nipples, more lingeringly. Sucking and licking them. Until Betty was panting. And then they were both sinking to the floor.
“Ladies …” I said again.
“It’s okay,” Edna said. “Join in any time.”
“Absolutely. By all means,” Betty said breathlessly.
I would have loved to join in. A three-way free-for-all with two passionate ladies, both delicious and yet so different from each other, was a prospect few men would choose to pass up. As my loins were telling me in no uncertain terms. But then few men would have gotten themselves into my peculiar predicament. I was only allowed one lady, and it might be difficult, in the present circumstances, to limit myself to that number.
Betty was now lying on her back on the floor, with Edna crouched above her, kissing her way slowly down Betty’s body. Kissing and licking. From her breasts down over her stomach, and on down to that flaming red triangle. And on down. Betty was moaning. She bent her gorgeous legs to give herself leverage to lift her lower body toward Edna’s searching mouth.
Both my head and my crotch were shouting at me that I had to do something, and soon. After all, with some care and a little restraint I should be able to fulfill both the requirements of my wager and the importunity of my passion.
I stood up and quickly took my clothes off. Betty was looking up at me from her supine position, but her eyes were somewhat glazed, and I wasn’t sure how much she was aware of. Edna was bent over with her back to me, her face buried between Betty’s thighs.
I knelt down behind that crouching body and put my hands on her, sliding them around her to hold her small, stiff-nippled breasts. She gave a muffled sound of pleasure and widened her legs for me, though she didn’t raise her head.
It would have been nice to have her undivided attention, but I was not in a mood to quibble. Pressing forward, I found her sweetly moist vagina and slowly, easily joined our bodies. A small stifled gasp from Edna, and we were soon rocking pleasurably to the sound of Betty’s moans.