She heard the bathroom door open and close and saw Tony Zecca approaching the bed. In the yellow light of their single lamp, she could see that he was naked. She tried to gird herself for their talk.
He tramped to the bed, tore the blanket off her, and yanked up her nightgown.
"Vacation's over," he growled. "You should be all rested by now. You can see, I'm ready for you. Come on, spread your fucking legs."
Instantly, she was horrified. All thought of reasoning with him, as well as the words she had carefully rehearsed in her mind, had fled. This was no time to reason. This was survival time.
"Tony, listen—no, not yet—"
"Come on, baby, lift it up, put the pillow under your ass."
She tried to resist. "No, Tony! No, I mustn't. The doctor warned me not to, not while I'm getting the shots. Give me more time. Let me—"
Zecca was on the bed, and over her, each of his ham-like hands on one of her knees. "No more stalling, kiddo," Zecca barked. "Enough of that medical shit. This doc says he's got a shot that's good for what ails you."
His powerful hands were pulling her legs apart. She gripped his knuckles, trying to stop him.
"Don't, Tony, please! Give the doctor another—"
"Fuck the doctor!" he bellowed.
He had her legs wide now, and with a grunt, he drove into her.
"Christ, you're tight," he muttered angrily.
He pressed with all his strength and finally, through sheer force, entered her.
She screamed with pain. With her fists, she hit at his chest, crying out with the deep hurt of his abrasive pressure.
"Don't! It's killing me . . . I'm going to die . . ." She screamed again and started to moan.
"Yeah, you're beginning to like it," he cackled, plunging harder.
She whimpered, tears rolling down her cheeks, as he gasped and came.
At last he withdrew and sat back. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it?"
"It hurt, Tony. It hurt terrible."
"Aw, you fucking women, always complaining."
"Tony, let me go back to the doctor a couple of times before we do it again."
"You mean then you'll stop complaining?"
"Sure, I'll be fixed up."
He rolled over to his side of the bed, yawned, and covered up. "Awright, go see your fucking doctor, but after that, no more complaining."
"No more," she promised.
Early the next afternoon, Nan and Brandon were undressing in his apartment bedroom, in preparation for another exercise. As she removed her garments, Nan, in an undertone, was reciting her experience with Zecca last night. She spared no details. Rolling down her panty hose, stepping out of them, she said, "It still hurts down there."
Taking off his jock shorts, Brandon shook his head with disbelief. "Your Mr. Zecca is really an animal."
"Worse."
"And you're sure there's no way to split and make it on your own?"
"Like I told you before, Paul, where would I go?"
"Someplace, anywhere, as far as possible from him. I'm sure, quickly enough, you'd find a job to support yourself. As for being alone, you don't have to be. You're attractive enough to get a hundred men."
"You really think so, Paul?"
Her hopeful tone made him look up at her as he threw aside his shorts. She was standing nude in front of the bed. Dammit, he told himself, she was attractive in her fashion. No ravishing beauty, like say Gayle, but a lovely person who might make many men happy.
"I absolutely think so," he said.
"What if I meet someone, and he wants to sleep with me, and I want him to, and it's not all right?"
"Meaning what?"
"Well, I mean, if I tighten up with those muscular spasms again, like with Tony."
"It probably won't ever happen again," Brandon tried to reassure her. "I'm convinced you're perfectly normal."
"How can you be sure of that?"
"Nan, you'll see for yourself by the end of the therapy."
"Will I?"
"Nan, hopefully, before the treatment is over, I'll be able to prove to you that lovemaking can be pleasurable and fun." This was tricky ground, and Brandon tried to divert her to another route. "Meanwhile, you ought to talk to Dr. Freeberg more openly about what's going on with Zecca. Maybe he'll give you some support on going it alone. He may give you some alternatives."
"I want to be positive I'm normal, Paul."
"We're getting there. We'll get there. You'll see with the next exercise. We call it the sexological—the sex or anatomy tour."
"Oh, yes, I remember now. I'm frightened."
"No need to be. Basically, it's a modified pelvic examination. We learn about female and male genitals, how they are different, how they are similar. Most people, grown people, are ignorant about their genitals. By doing this tour together, we learn what is erogenous and what isn't. It helps make one more comfortable with the opposite sex." He studied her. "How do you feel? If you're still sore after what happened last night, we could postpone this . . ."
"No," she said with determination. "I want to do it." She stared back at him. "How do we start, Paul?"
" We can begin with the female sexological or the male sexological, whichever you prefer. Would you like to begin by examining me?"
"Yes, Paul." Nan swallowed. "Let's start with you. What —what do we do?"
"We both get on the bed. I lie on my back, my legs spread. You sit cross-legged between my legs. Have you ever examined a man up close, really close?"
"Of course not."
"Then I'll guide you, show you what to touch or hold, and explain each part. Think you can do it?"
"Certainly."
"Let's go, then."
They both got on the bed. He lay down on his back, full length, legs wide. Tentatively, she settled cross-legged between his legs.
"Come closer, Nan," he ordered.
Slowly, she wriggled closer. He lifted his legs and placed them across the tops of her thighs.
"Now, let me direct you and explain each part of the male genitalia to you, its function, its responses, and so forth. We'll start with my scrotal sac and testes . . ."
She held back nervously. He reached out, took one of her hands, and drew it down to his testicles. Her quivering hand touched them, and he closed her fingers around them. "Now, just get the feel while I explain a little about the testes inside the scrotum. Almost no women realize—and few men know—that the pair of testicles are one of the two most important parts of the male sex apparatus. What you are holding produces the sperm that fertilizes the female egg. The testicles also produce the hormones responsible for the functioning of the penis. The testicles are responsible for a man's masculinity, everything from his deep voice to his muscular strength."
Now Brandon took Nan's hand and guided her fingers to the tip of his soft penis.
"The other vital part of the male apparatus," Brandon explained, "is the penis itself. The knob you are holding is the tip of the penis, called the glans. Now I'm lowering your fingers to the shaft of my penis. Inside my shaft are three columns of porous tissue. When a man is sexually aroused, these porous or spongy tissues fill with blood and become hard. Inserting this erection into a female vagina creates friction, and it's this friction that leads to the male orgasm. Now let me tell you more about the male organ."
Brandon directed her hand in each step, starting with the meatus and going upward to the coronal ridge and dorsal surface. He returned her hand once more to the knob of his penis.
"Just hold it again, feel it in your fingers, in your hand," he directed her.
Then he realized that something was happening. His penis was growing larger and larger in her hand, and becoming harder, stretching through her fingers.
He was having an erection.
He had hoped against hope it wouldn't happen, but he supposed it was inevitable.
She was staring down at him, and he could see her chest heaving, her breasts rising and falling.
> He had to bring an end to this before something more happened. Rising on one elbow, he tried to smile. "Well, I guess that answers one question you had," he said. "Are you attractive to men? What do you think?"
"Paul," she murmured.
He had to act fast. "Enough of that for the moment," he said. "Now we do a reverse. It's my turn with you."
He pulled away from her carefully and sat up. "First, we change positions," he said, clinically as possible. "You lie down on your back, and I take your place. This will be the female sexological."
In moments, Nan was on her back, and he had reached out for the plastic speculum and flashlight lying on his bedside table, and with them in hand, he drew up close between her spread legs, lifted them over his thighs, and began.
"First off, I want you to relax a little more," he said. "That'll make it easier. Let me stroke your thighs for a while. You're wired up, which is natural, and I want you to feel at ease."
Little by little, he felt some of the tightness go out of her.
He reached for a small bottle on the table, uncapped it, and gradually began to apply a light oil to her vaginal opening.
"To make it painless," he said.
Nan's eyes were closed as he stroked her labia, then moved his fingers outside and up toward her clitoris. With one finger inside her again, he spoke of what he was contacting, both the bumpy and smooth parts, pushing back to her cervix, explaining each part. Realizing she was extremely lubricated, he took up the speculum and flashlight and instructed her to note in the mirror what he was showing her.
First, he fixed on her brown outer labia, then moved inside to her dark pink inner labia, explaining how each performed when excited. Deeper inside, he indicated the root of the clitoris and explained how vaginal muscles contracted during orgasm and pressed against the clitoris above. He continued to the thick soft tissue between the pubic bone and the urethra sponge, spoke of its function, and then went on to describe the added spongy tissue that ran from the anus to the opening of the vagina.
At one point, he thought he heard Nan whisper something. He thought it was, "Oh, my."
When he had finished his exploration, he realized that there had been no spasms that rejected entry nor any resistance that would indicate discomfort. It was a significant bit of progress.
Her eyes were no longer hypnotized by what she had seen in the speculum's mirror. Her eyes were intent upon him.
"That was fascinating," she said.
"No pain?"
"None at all. Only one thing . . ."
"What, Nan?"
"How will I know when I'm all right?"
"When you and I have sexual intercourse together," he said simply, "and it gives you pleasure. Then you'll know."
In the evening, undressing in her therapy room, Gayle suspected that she was about to reach a crucial moment with Chet Hunter.
Up to now the intensive therapy he had requested had gone smoothly enough, at least on the surface. There had been no problem with nudity, and none with his ability to achieve and maintain an erection. During the shower, the back caress, the non-genital frontal caress, she had observed that his penis had become erect during each exercise. She reminded herself that, after all, unlike Demski, impotency was not his problem. But there was a problem. Although she had not been able to experience it yet, and knew it only from his case history, she was sure that his accounts of premature ejaculation were honest enough.
This belief, thought Gayle, was evident in his personality. He was sturdy and solid enough in every way, yet he was high-strung and impatient. He wanted to get everything over with fast and move on. He was not interested in touching or caressing or the feelings of any of his body parts. He was interested only in his penis, to the exclusion of everything else. He wanted to get to that fast and make it work in the right way. Hunter had what female surrogates termed, among themselves, a total prick mentality.
It would be difficult to overcome, this haste in him, and she wondered if it would be possible to slow him down. With premature ejaculators, this was a key to cure. Make haste slowly, very slowly.
As she watched him remove his shorts, she wondered about the degree of his premature ejaculations. That had not been defined yet.
"Chet," she said casually, "as I recall, you do have a regular girlfriend, don't you?"
"Yes, I do."
"Want to tell me anything about her?"
He was at once guarded. "What's to tell?"
"Well, do you love her?"
"Enough to want to marry her."
"This is the same girl you were telling Dr. Freeberg about? The one you've gone to bed with several times?"
"She's the one."
"But you couldn't make it with her?"
"I'm afraid not. That's why I'm here. I have no trouble getting it up, but I come too fast."
"How fast?"
Hunter snorted. "Nosy, aren't you? I'm just kidding. You're here to help me. How fast? Well, not in my pants, if that's what you mean. Naw, it happens when we're in go position. When I'm ready to enter her."
"Have you ever entered her?"
"No, dammit. I always start coming first."
"When your penis touches her on the outside?"
"Yes," he said, suddenly crestfallen. "I don't like it. I have to do something about it. I just have to."
"We are doing something about it," Gayle said.
"Are we? I can't tell yet."
"You'll see. You'll get over it. The main thing is to do all the exercises with me, no shortcuts, and be patient. Trust me, Chet."
He shrugged. "What else can I do?"
"For one thing, you can lie down on the mat here, on your back."
"Okay. And you?"
He settled down on his back on the spacious floor mat. "Tonight we're going to do genital pleasuring."
He appeared to brighten. "You mean you're going to hold me down there?"
Gayle knew this could be trouble. Until tonight, she had touched and caressed him everywhere except on the penis. She was concerned about his reaction and his degree of arousal.
Kneeling beside him, she gently rubbed oil the length of his penis. "To make this more realistic and get you to appreciate the vaginal environment. When we get to penetration, I'll be moist inside. So you might as well get used to it now."
"Sounds right." Hunter acknowledged.
Finished with the oiling, Gayle raised her hand to his abdomen and started to stroke it. She said, "When I hold your penis, it's not done to excite you. Remember, it's to give you non-demand pleasure. I'll be touching and caressing, with no strain on you to perform. You merely have to shut your eyes and do nothing. Simply enjoy it. Okay, your eyes closed, please."
He closed his eyes.
Reaching down, her fingertips arrived at the shaft of his penis. She applied her touch gently, then with firmness. "Is that about right?" she asked quietly. "Do you find it enjoyable?"
"You bet."
"It may not stimulate you too much, but—"
"You've got to be kidding."
She expected to give him several minutes to be fully erect. But almost immediately his penis had swollen, risen somewhat, and was rising further.
To continue might frustrate him too much. She had to slow him down, get his mind off his penis.
"All right, Chet. Enough of that. Now it's my turn." She reached for his arm, to make him sit up.
"Your turn?"
"Now you pleasure me in the same way."
"You mean between your legs?"
"Of course, Chet. Just to let me enjoy some unerotic fondling."
"Unerotic? I like that. It can never be unerotic."
"Try me. I'll show you."
Soon she was on her back, on the mat, with Hunter, raised on an elbow, beside her, touching her clitoris.
"A little lighter," she instructed him. She did not want to be brought to orgasm. "Lighter and more slowly."
He proceeded to do as he had been told. Her eyes closed., Gayl
e decided that he wasn't bad at it, not at all. Abruptly, the pressure on her clitoris became harder, faster.
"Honey," she heard him say.
She opened her eyes, saw him pointing down between his legs.
"Look at this."
He was pointing down at a complete erection, straight out and obviously hard.
She was at a loss for what to say. "Well, that's good . . ."
"It can be for both of us," he said urgently. "Let me, Gayle."
"Let you what?"
"Put it in. I'm ready. Why waste time?"
"No," she said. "You're not ready. We need more sessions."
He came to his knees beside her. "Honey, I've got to, I've just got to. I'm ready. I'll make it this time . . . I guarantee you."
"No, not yet—"
"Please, Gayle, while I can. It'll be great. Let me show you."
She considered his pleading. If only there were time to consult Dr. Freeberg. But as she knew, many of these decisions were left to the judgment of the surrogates. She considered further. What it came to was: just what was there to lose? If he truly could make it, he was on his way to a cure. If he couldn't, he would learn a lesson.
"All right, Chet," she said impulsively, "if you think you can complete penetration, that might be a good thing. Go ahead. I'll cooperate."
"You'll see, you'll see," he said breathlessly, hastily positioning himself between her widening legs. "Christ, you're something, you're great. We'll do it. I can make it this time."
She arched back, lifting her hips slightly as he guided his penis toward her vaginal opening. He was panting now, excited, so eager to make it.
She felt the head of his penis touch her down below, and she braced herself for his entry. But there was no entry. She raised her head. His features were contorted.
And then she felt the wetness of his semen outside her vagina.
"Oh, Jesus," he groaned as he finished his orgasm. "Jesus, I just couldn't hold it in. I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. I don't know—it just happened."
She put a kindly hand on his bare shoulder. "Don't worry, Chet. It's happened before. That's why we're together. But I promise you, if you do it my way, and have plenty of patience, I promise you one day soon you'll be fine."
The Celestial Bed Page 15
