Mildred couldn't see much without her glasses on. All she knew was that he had suddenly stopped.
“What's wrong?”
The sound of her voice snapped Tony back to life. “It's just that . . .” he trailed off, and then switched gears. “Mildred, I want to make love to you.”
Mildred's breath caught in her throat.
“Do you want to make love to me, Mildred?”
“Oh, yes, Tony. Yes, I do,” she squealed, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. Catching him off-guard, she grabbed his face between her two meaty hands. Before Tony knew it, Mildred's tongue was in his mouth, lapping away at his palate as if it were a bowl of milk.
Gagging, he finally pulled his face away and resisted the urge to wipe his hand across his mouth.
“Let's . . . let's go to the bedroom,” Tony said.
To save time, Tony suggested she prepare herself for him while he went to the bathroom and did the same.
Mildred's mind wandered again to the boxes of condoms. They would have to talk about that. Now that he had her, he wouldn't need anyone else.
In the darkness of the room Mildred quickly stripped down to nothing and climbed into the bed. Pulling the covers up to her chin, she waited, her heart racing.
Tony stood in front of the mirror. His hands gripped the porcelain edge of the sink as he stared his reflection directly in the eye.
“What are you about to do? Are you really going to do this? You know doing this is the equivalent of selling your soul to the devil, don't you? And all for what? Some money? Is that who you are?”
Tony stared at himself a little bit more before he sat down on the toilet and flipped open one of the magazines Zebby had left underneath the cabinet for him.
He flipped through page after page as he stroked himself erect. When he was as hard as he thought he could possibly become, he went to her.
He'd barely climbed in before she was on her side, her hands like octopus limbs all over his body, exploring every inch of him and then finally grabbing hold of his dick.
He'd never in all of his years of fucking felt as though he was the one being taken advantage of.
“Oh, oh,” Mildred mumbled as she stroked his Johnson. Her hands were surprisingly soft, and Tony had to admit, he was experiencing some pleasure from her touch.
“Oh, Tony, oh,” Mildred moaned as she stroked him. “I've dreamed of this moment for so long,” she said breathlessly as she released his penis and slid her hand across his abdomen and then up his side before settling on his bicep and kneading the skin there.
Tony had no desire to caress her—that slight interest had been shattered when he'd reached out and his hand fell on her fleshy gut. His hand had immediately recoiled and now lay lifeless on the two inches of bedsheet that separated them.
“Me too,” he managed as his hard-on began to die.
Desperate to regain some momentum, he moved his hand up to her breasts, which were large and long. At his touch, Mildred began to tremble and moan. She grabbed her left breast and shoved it toward his mouth.
He obliged, surprised to find that her nipples were almost as long as his pinky fingers.
“Oh God, oh God,” Mildred cried out when he began to suck. “Yes, baby, yes.”
Tony felt his jimmy jump. He was actually getting off on the pleasure he was giving her.
Suddenly, Mildred flipped violently onto her back. “Take me, take me now!” she wailed.
Tony uttered a little prayer, tore the package of the condom he'd been clutching in his free hand, and rolled the rubber over his dick.
He mounted her and Mildred braced herself.
Tony situated the tip of his penis at the opening of her vagina, took a deep breath, and slowly began to thrust himself in.
An animal-like sound escaped from Mildred, and her body began to shake.
“Are you okay?” Tony whispered breathlessly into her ear.
Her only response was a quick nod.
Tony planted his hands on either side of Mildred, bracing himself on his arms, and proceeded to push himself deeper into her.
When he was halfway in, Mildred began to gasp for air; he didn't bother to ask if he should continue because her hands had a steel grip on his waist, pulling him deeper.
When he was all the way in, he began to thrust harder, faster.
Mildred was screaming his name, crying out in a mixture of pain and pleasure.
“You like it, you like it?”
“Y-yes!” Mildred responded in a hoarse whisper.
Sex scenes from the blue movies she'd watched over the years flashed through her mind, and she courageously raised her legs and wrapped them around Tony's back, hooking her ankles together and pinning him down on top of her.
“Ugh,” Tony managed before his air supply was completely blocked off. Mildred, still happily thrusting, took a while to notice that Tony had stopped moving.
“Tony? Tony?”
Mildred removed her head from the space between his neck and shoulder and turned to look Tony in the face. In the darkness of the room she could see the whites of his eyes.
“Tony?” She called again, finally unlocking her legs.
“D-don't ever do that again,” he gasped.
“Oh, sorry,” Mildred mumbled, a bit embarrassed.
Tony began to move again, long, even strokes that Mildred received with small, excited grunts of pleasure. Lost in the sweetness of the moment, she began to roll her hips against his. Tony groaned with delight and he began to grind in time with Mildred. He smiled in spite of his earlier misgivings and thought as he gripped Mildred's shoulders and pushed himself deeper that this wasn't bad, not bad at all.
CHAPTER
Twenty-four
Sunday had come and gone, and by Monday Mildred found she still couldn't pull herself together.
“Is everything okay, Mildred?” Mr. Henderson asked, genuine concern in his voice. Mildred had never once called in sick.
“I think I might be catching the flu,” Mildred lied in a nasal voice.
“Oh, my. Well, you take care of yourself. I'll have Amy cover for you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Henderson. I'm sure I'll be well enough to come in tomorrow.”
Mildred hung up the phone.
She kept replaying his words in her head as he was pushing up into her: Oh, you're so tight, you're so fucking sweet, Jesus Christ, he'd moaned into her neck.
It had hurt like hell, and she'd had no idea how she was supposed to move her body or even if she was supposed to move her body. She'd seen plenty of porno films, but those people were actors. Expert actors. She was a novice, but she would learn and she would become just as good as the people who starred in those blue movies.
She felt a snap deep down inside of her, and she thought Tony had felt it too, because he'd paused in mid-thrust and stared into the darkness over her head, and then he'd pushed himself so deep into her that she thought he would break through her back. She'd screamed while his body shook so violently she thought he was having an epileptic attack.
Afterward, Tony's loud snores cut through the night as Mildred lay on her side, staring at Tony's muscled back.
He hadn't held her; in fact, he'd scurried over to the edge of the bed, leaving her shivering in the wet spot.
CHAPTER
Twenty-five
A virgin?”
“Can you believe it? In this day and age?” Tony laughed.
Errol shook his head in disgust. His friend had dropped down to a level that Errol had not known even existed.
“Why are you even messing with that woman, Tony? She's not even your type. You yourself said she was a dog.”
“Hey, you know how it is . . .” Tony said, trailing off. He couldn't tell Errol what he was up to. Errol was his boy, but he was straight-laced and would never agree to what Tony was planning. At the very least, he'd try to talk him out of it. But he might just report him.
“I guess it's true what my mother always said,” Errol
said as he went up for the rebound.
“What was that?” Tony asked as he caught the ball and did a quick spin, jumped up, and dunked the ball.
“Dick don't have no conscience.”
Maybe his dick didn't have a conscience, but Tony believed that he did, even though the thought of money beat it back every time. But if he had to tell the truth, it would be this: As soon as he felt more than heard Mildred's hymen give way, he knew he was going to be in a world of trouble. It was nice to be someone's first when you were a teenager or in your early twenties, but in your thirties, you've lived some and learned some and any sexually educated man knew that being with a virgin was fleeting pleasure, because what that woman expected from you beyond that night was nothing less than your entire being.
Tony needed to have a few days to himself. A few days to prepare for the onslaught of affection, admiration, and those three little words that he could already feel dangling above him like a hangman's noose: I love you.
So he told her he was going out of town to take care of some business and wouldn't return until Tuesday morning, just in time for work. He explained that where he was going, up in the Catskills, the cell phone service was sketchy and that he would be sure to call her once he got back into town.
It was as if he'd never even made that statement, because it was Sunday afternoon and she'd already sent him twenty-two text messages.
CHAPTER
Twenty-six
Seneca was quiet on the other end of the phone. For a minute, Mildred thought the line had gone dead, until she heard Seneca exhale and then say, “You did not!”
“I did,” Mildred said calmly.
“Was it good?”
Mildred didn't quite understand the question. It'd hurt like hell and there was none of the cuddling she'd hoped for. After an hour Tony had jumped up suddenly and announced that he had to take her home because he was driving upstate to handle some business. They'd driven in silence and once again she thought she'd done something wrong, and when she voiced that, he quickly calmed her fears by taking her hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it, and then saying, “How could you ask me something like that? This was the most perfect night of my life.”
“Yes,” Mildred breathed into the phone, “it was more than good. It was the most perfect night of my life.”
The following day, as Mildred stood waiting for the train to arrive, she wondered if people could see the difference in her. She wondered if she had a different walk. If she had that devirginized glow about her. She certainly felt different.
“Glad to have you back, Mildred,” Mr. Henderson said when he walked in Tuesday morning and saw Mildred at her desk, already busy at work. “Are you feeling better? You're certainly looking well.”
“Oh, yes. I'm much better.” Mildred beamed. “It must have been one of those twenty-four-hour viruses.”
Mr. Henderson gave Mildred a skeptical look. “Must have been,” he said as he picked up the Wall Street Journal from her desk and walked to his office.
Later at lunch, as Geneva looked thoughtfully at her tuna fish on whole wheat sandwich and then back at Mildred, she could see the glow. She didn't know if it had anything to do with having sex for the first time. She did know that that glow usually accompanied extreme happiness. But she felt that this happiness Mildred was experiencing was fleeting, and so she wanted to choose her words very carefully.
She liked Mildred and thought she was a truly wonderful person, but she also believed that Mildred was naive.
“You have to be careful with your heart,” Geneva said. “I mean, from what you're telling me, this is your first love—not counting Michael Jackson, of course.” Geneva giggled.
Geneva wanted to keep it light. She certainly didn't want Mildred to think that she was judging or attacking her in any way. Because she too had been there: the overweight, underconfident woman suddenly being pursued by a man so fine, Geneva had thought his good looks was just his cover for crazy.
But he'd been genuine, and now they were husband and wife.
So who was she to tell Mildred that this thing she'd suddenly stumbled onto wasn't real, even though deep down in Geneva's heart the whole situation just didn't feel right?
“I will,” Mildred said, and patted Geneva on the arm.
Geneva forced a smile. It was the happiest she'd ever seen Mildred. She would let her have her moment, but she'd be keeping a close watch on the situation.
CHAPTER
Twenty-seven
That Saturday, Tony and Mildred were in Prospect Park. The main field, surrounded by trees, gave the illusion of being miles away from any concrete structure.
He'd really outdone himself with this one.
He had a red and white checkered blanket and a picnic basket filled with gourmet snacks, complete with a bottle of champagne and an ounce of caviar—that little tidbit had been a gift from Zebby. Tony would never have spent that type of money on any woman.
All around them lovers were splayed out on blankets. Single women sunned their bikini-clad upper torsos while bopping their heads to the music that streamed out of their iPods. Shirtless men tossed Frisbees to one another and their dogs.
“It's really a beautiful day, isn't it?” Tony said as he spooned the caviar onto toast points.
Mildred had never had caviar, although it had always been part of her daydreams.
“Open up,” Tony said as he glided the salty treat toward her mouth. Mildred opened her mouth to receive it the same way she'd done with his cock the other night.
She'd spent the past three days reviewing porno movie after porno movie, taking pages and pages of notes.
Seneca had counseled her on the art of the blow job, acting it out on a skinned banana. “It's important not to let your teeth get in the way. They don't like that,” she'd advised.
And so that evening when Tony came to visit, she guided him to the couch, undid his pants, and began to do to him what she'd done to two pounds of Chiquita bananas.
She didn't like it, not one bit, but Tony seemed to love it, his face full of ecstasy and his head swinging from side to side.
“A gentleman won't come in your mouth. He'll pull out before he comes,” Seneca had warned.
Mildred didn't quite believe that statement, because even though Tony had held tight to her head and pushed his dick deep down into her throat, coating her tonsils with semen, she still believed him to be a gentleman and the best thing that had ever happened to her.
Now the caviar on her tongue pulled her back to that night and she fought the urge to gag.
“Do you like it?”
Mildred shrugged her shoulders and then spat it out into her napkin when Tony looked away.
After the meal and a glass of champagne, Tony stretched himself out across the blanket and rested his head in her lap. She marveled at his deep brown skin, which seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. He was dressed in a sleeveless white Nike T-shirt and a pair of gray sweat-pants.
Mildred had donned a pair of high-water jeans that were faded at the knees. Those and a pink terry-cloth top that she'd bought at Conways the previous summer.
“Touch me,” he said, and took her hand and placed it on his cheek. “I like it when you touch me.”
Mildred blushed. He was always saying things like that. She looked deep into his eyes and began stroking his cheek. Tony held her eyes with his and a small, satisfied smile appeared on his lips.
“I want to tell you something, Mildred Johnson,” he said, his voice taking on a serious tone.
Mildred felt her breath catch in her throat, and her hand slowed to a stop.
“No, don't stop,” Tony said. “It feels good.”
Mildred's hand sprang into motion again.
“What I want to tell you is,” Tony started, and then took in a great gulp of air. He was going to be nominated for an Academy fucking Award for this particular performance, he told himself as he forced his eyes to fill with tears.
“I want to
tell you that even though we've only been together a short time . . . I think I might be . . .”
Mildred held her breath. Surely he wasn't going to say what she'd been waiting to hear her entire life? It couldn't be.
“. . . falling in love with you.”
Mildred was blinking. Blinking back her tears of joy. But still she needed to hear it again. She needed to make sure he was using that word, that magical word: love.
Tony pulled himself up and took Mildred's face into his hands. Their noses were less than an inch apart, and when he spoke, she could feel his warm breath against her face. “No, no, I was wrong . . .”
Mildred's heart sank.
“I was holding back,” Tony said. “I don't think I'm falling in love with you. I'm already in love with you. I love you,” Tony said, and then planted a passionate kiss on Mildred's lips.
Mildred's body shook in his arms, and when their lips parted, she heard herself say, “I love you too.”
Tony's eyes widened. “You do?” he said, as if not believing. “You love me?”
Mildred wrapped her arms around his neck. “I do, I do—I love you.” She repeated her words over and over again as she bounced up and down on the blanket.
Later, as they strolled hand in hand toward the exit, Tony stopped every person that came within a foot of them to say, “Hey, she loves me. Mildred Johnson loves meeeeeeeee!”
CHAPTER
Twenty-eight
Mildred had never in life cashed a check for more than sixty dollars, but there she was, staring at the smiling teller behind the glass shield at Chase Manhattan Bank as he counted and then recounted the ten one-hundred-dollar bills.
“Thank you, Ms. Johnson, and have a nice day,” the woman said as she slid the money into the silver tray.
Mildred was going shopping. She was going to buy herself a few new outfits, as well as a gift or two for Tony.
She wasn't a savvy shopper. She didn't know anything about the high-end retail stores—she had always purchased her clothes at Sears and JCPenney—but now she found herself walking down Fulton Street headed straight to Macy's.
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