by Troy Conway
“Not for the present.”
He grinned. “Then, cheerio. And keep smiling. I think we can safely predict that the spit will hit the fan soon.”
“Yeah,” I replied grimly, still thinking of piano wire. “It’s a pretty safe prediction.”
CHAPTER 6
It was.
Walrus-moustache had hardly left the apartment when my doorbell rang. I peered through the peephole and found myself looking into the flashing eyes of Chiquita. With her was another sexy latin—a few inches shorter, darker, probably half Negro, and every bit as tittilating.
I grabbed a forty-five in one hand and opened the door with the other. Chiquita looked at the gun without flinching. then rolled her sexy eyes at me. “Like, wow,” she said her slight Spanish accent giving the hippie jargon a cute sound. “talk about a gracious host.”
I let the barrel of the forty-five graze menacingly across the upthrus tips of her unholstered thirty-eights. “Security, sweetie,” I explained. “If you’re not packing any piano wire, you don’t have anything to fear.”
“The only piano wire I have is in my piano, Damon. Now are you going to let us in, or do you want to stand in the doorway all night pointing that thing at us?”
I took a step backward and motioned with the gun toward the couch. “Make yourselves comfortable, but don’t make any sudden moves. When I shoot, I aim for the heart. I’d hate to mess up all that luscious upholstery.”
Chiquita and her companion sat down. I locked the door, then flopped into a chair opposite them. The forty-five scanned across their breasts like a radar screen scanning the sky.
“Okay,” I said, “what’s the message from The Big Head?”
Chiquita gave me a hurt look “Does time have to be a message? Couldn’t I have come over here just because I wanted to see you?”
“You could ham But did you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I liked what we did together that night at the party I want to do it again.”
“And your friend here?”
“She wants to do it too.”
“A likely story, “ I clichéd.
Chiquita sighed and her magnificent mammaries strained against the gauze-thin fabric d ha blouse. “What’s with you, Damon? You’re supposed to be a lover, not a fighter. Why don’t you put that stupid gun away and give us what we came for?”
I smiled. “Because I’m still not sure what you came for.”
“Sex. That’s all. Now will you please put that gun away? It’s making me very nervous.”
“How do I know that when I do you won’t pull some piano wire out from under that miniskirt and give me a G string necktie?”
She sighed again, harder this time, and her succulent breasts threatened to burst right through her blouse “oh for heaven’s sake, Damon, the only thing under my miniskirt is. . . .” She let the sentence trail off. Her eyes found mine. She tried a new tack. “Look, Damon. You’re supposed to be a sex expert. Can’t you tell a passionate girl when you see one? If you’re so worried about piano wire, Carla and I’ll take off all our clothes. Would that convince you?”
“It wouldn’t be a bad idea,” I admitted.
Chiquita barked a few words in Spanish and both girls promptly began to undress. I sat back and watched.
It was quite a sight.
The two Latin lovelies were as stacked as a traveling card sharp’s blackjack deck, and they moved with the precision of a pair of Rockettes.
First two sets of hands made short work of unbuttoning two blouses. The buttons fell away, revealing the bulging insides of two pairs of splendiferous spheres.
Then, two right arms shot into the air and two left hands urged two right sleeves over them. Neither girl was wearing a bra, with the result that two breasts lay completely exposed, bright orange nipples jutting out like a pair of bullets.
Next, the newly unsleeved right arms proceeded to unsleeve the left arms. The blouses dropped to the floor. and my beauties stood completely bare from the waist up. The new girl’s tan globes were like two ripe fruits just begging to be squeezed, pinched and touched.
Now it was time for the miniskirts. Two right hands tugged at two buckles. The buckles unbuckled, the zippers beneath them were unzipped. Like two firemen sliding down two poles, the two minis slid down the luxurious pillars that when the girls’ legs and landed in a heap at their ankles.
Chiquita had been telling the truth. The only thing under her mini was her—and she was delectable. Her companion was no slouch either. The smooth lines of both girls’ bellies, hips and thighs were an engraved invitation for further exploration.
“Doesn’t anybody wear underwear anymore?” I managed.
The only reply was a smile from Chiquita. Then, resuming the Rockette bit, the cuddlesome cuties executed a pair of back-kicks that sent the minis flying onto the couch. I surveyed the scene, grinned my approval and lowered my forty-five.
“Well,” said Chiquita, “are you going to show Carla and me to your bedroom? Or would you rather entertain us here?”
I was still far from convinced that the only purpose of their visit was sex. But they certainly seemed harmless enough standing there in their birthday suits, and sex was as good a way as any to pass the time while I tried to figure out what they really had come for. “In the bedroom,” I said, ushering them inside. Then I latched the door, put the forty-five on a shelf that would be out of their reach if they decided to make a grab for it and prepared to give them what they said they wanted.
Chiquita and Carla sat side by side on the edge of the bed.
I approached them and Chiquita’s hand found my belt buckle. Carla went to work on my zipper. Her finger8 brushed against the stiffness beneath it, and she turned to Chiquita with an expression of pleasant surprise
“Ya?” she asked. “Carramba!”
“Siempre,” replied Chiquita. “Es bueno, verdad?” To me she explained, “Carla’s surprised that you’re ready. I fold her you always are.”
I hadn’t needed the translation, but I saw no point in letting them know about my fluency in their language “Tell her it’s a biological quirk,” I said. “Priapism”
She translated, and Carla’s curiosity was satisfied. Both girls then returned to the matter at hand
Chiquita helped me out of one trouser leg while Carla helped me out of the other. My shoes impeded their progress, so they took them off. Then they went to work on my socks, shorts and shirt In seconds I was as naked as they were.
Carla positioned herself horizontally across the head of the bed, and Chiquita maneuvered me into place at a diagonal to her. I lay on my back with Carla’s breasts serving as my pillow. My legs dangled over the side of the bed, and my feet touched the floor. Chiquita knelt between them.
Carala’s breasts were a sea of warm, tender, sweet- smelling flesh She squeezed her arms alongside them, and they wrapped themselves lovingly around my face. Their hot red tip were barely an inch from my lips. Then, in a flash. the) were in my mouth
I nibbles at them hungrily. My tongue traced circles around h nipples. and my teeth raked across the soft, firm mound from which they projected. Soft purrs of contentment coming from Carla’s throat assured me that my efforts were’s going unnoticed. The insistent pressure of her gently undulating womanhood against my shoulder reinforced the it Impression.
But Carla didn’t have a monopoly on my attention. As Chiquita knelt between my legs, her tongue drew warm. wet patterns across my belly. At the same time, her small and skillful fingers fluttered up and down my manhood They squeezed and stroked, kneaded and pressed, teased and caressed.
Soon her mouth joined her fingers. The sensation was exquisite . Tantalizing flames of pleasure burned through my loins. A volcano of excitement welled up inside me.
I gnawed all the more hungrily on Carla’s breasts. In reply, she brought her mouth to the nape of my neck and began chewing on my ear. My hand stroked the insides of her thighs which spread
eagerly. My thumb found her womanhood and slowly inched inside. It was met with an overflowing of passion.
“Do you like it?” I heard Chiquita ask.
The sweet pain of Carla’s bite choked off my words. I squirmed, and my hips went into a gentle dance about Chiquita’s mouth. My passion grew and grew.
Chiquita realized that I was rapidly approaching the point of no return. Her mouth undulated. My body arched high, then came down only to rise even higher. The tide of burning passion welled up within me.
Carla didn’t want to get left out of things. Slipping out from beneath me, she dug her knees into the mattress on one side of my head and her fists into the mattress on the other. Her breasts swayed tantalizingly over my face.
I licked at them, and her body swayed slightly forward. Then I tongued her tummy, and she swayed a tittle more. I knew what she wanted, and I didn’t mind letting her have it My tongue found its way across the soft, smooth moss shielding her womanhood. Then her entire body shook with delight as my lips caressed her.
An inferno of hot breath and writhing bodies surrounded me. Chiquita’s lips were moving faster and faster. She moved from side to side, up and down, back and forth. At the same time, my tongue probed Carla.
The sensations were too exquisite to last, and they didn’t. Heaving mightily, I let loose a flow of love, the spasms of which shook the bodies of both my Latin lovelies
When it was over, the three of us lay together, the girls’ bodies bracketing mine like parentheses. Carla gently tongued my neck, while Chiquita’s teeth toyed with my ear. Both girls’ hands stroked my abdomen and explored the hair on my chest.
Finally Chiquita said, “You’re beautiful Damon. Too beautiful for words.”
“You’re not bad yourself,” I conceded. “And neither is your girlfriend.” Then, remembering the circumstances under which the three of us were gathered, I added, “But I still can’t believe that sex is the only purpose of your visit.”
Chiquita sounded disappointed. “Why not?”
“It seems to me that you’d get all the loving you wanted from the crowd at The Church of the Sacred Add, especially from the ever-lovin’ Big Head.”
“Ha!” she spat. “And you’re supposed to be a sex expert?! For your information, The Big Head hasn’t touched me once in the whole six month I’ve been his mistress!”
My ears perked up.
“He talks about love,” she went on. “He talks about it all the time. But all he does is talk” She mimicked his voice. “‘Love so sure, so confident, so absolutely certain of itself that it needs no physical expression!’“ Her own voice returned. “My father’s moustache! The Big Head couldn’t express his love physically if his life depended on it!”
“You mean he’s impotent?”
“I don’t know what he is. I only know what he does, which is nothing. At least, not to me.”
“Maybe he has other girlfriends?”
“I don’t think so. I’d know about it if he did”
“How about boyfriends?” I asked.
“No. None of them either. There was a guy who used to hang around The Church sometimes, a Black Muslim named Swami Swahili. I thought for a while that The Big Head might’ve been sweet on him, but he took off more than a month ago and I haven’t seen him since. If The Big Head misses him, he doesn’t let on.”
My hand found her breast and began stroking it. In reply, she snuggled against me. As if on cue, Carla joined in on the action, wrapping her legs around one of mine and stroking my manhood with her fingers.
For the present, however, I was more interested in the conversation than the sex-play. “So you’re The Big Head’s mistress,” I mused. “And he doesn’t make love to you. Very interesting.”
“Also very sad, if one happens to be a hot-blooded young lady—which I am.”
My eyebrows arched quizzically. “Then why don’t you leave him?”
“Money, Damon. It’s the only thing that keeps us together.” She sighed. “When my family came to this country a year ago from Puerto Rico, we expected all sorts of wonderful opportunities. We were soon disillusioned. My father couldn’t find work and we had to go on relief. All seven of us—my father, my mother, my baby brother, my three sisters and I—lived in a four-room apartment that was crawling with rats. We didn’t even have our own toilet. We had to share the one in the hallway with three other families.”
I clucked sympathetically.
She raised herself on one elbow. Her eyes burned imploringly into mine. “Then,” she said, “my father died. The funeral expenses put our family horribly in debt My mother didn’t speak English and couldn’t get a job. My baby brother was only four years old. I was the head of the family, and I didn’t know where to turn. That’s when I met The Big Head. He liked me and he asked me to come and live with him. I knew that anything would be better than the apartment I was living in with my family, so I said yes. He and I lived together, and he gives me lots of money. I was frugal with it from the first, and soon I had saved enough to rent my family a very nice apartment They live there now. and they enjoy all the conveniences they have always desired. They even have a TV set Meanwhile, I continue to live with The Big Head. He gives me a hundred dollars a week spending money. I keep ten for myself and give the rest to my mother. It may not be a very honorable way for a girl to support her family, but it’s the way I’ve chosen and I’m not ashamed of it.”
I eyed her skeptically. “A very touching story, Chiquita Plenty of drama. plenty of pathos Even a smash, n e regrets ending “ My tones were acid. “But I’m not buying it You’re as phony as a fifty-cent diamond ring.”
Her mouth popped open in disbelief of my disbelief. “What do you mean?”
“The story doesn’t wash, honey. There’re too many holes in it. For one thing, you say you came to the United States only a year ago. But you speak better English than some people who’ve lived here all their lives.”
“I studied English in school at San Juan”
“For another, a hundred dollars a week is an awful lot of money for a man to give to a girl he doesn’t make love to. What’s The Big Head’s angle in keeping you as his mistress?”
“I’ m useful to him at the Church of the sacred Acid . You saw me there the other night He needs me for his act.”
“Still, if money’s all you’re after, I’m sure you could find a sugar daddy who has a lot more of it than The Big Head.”
“You think so, huh? Well, you’ve got another think coming. Remember, this is New York and I’m a Puerto Rican. We have never been considered very desirable by men who like to think of themselves as ‘pure’ Americans.” She lowered her voice. “Besides, even though The Big Head doesn’t satisfy me sexually, I like him. He’s a very warm and gentle man, and he’s a man of principle. He’s sacrificed everything he’s ever had just so he could go out among the people and preach his doctrines of love.”
“Come on, now. No chick that manipulates a guy for a hundred clams a week is going to tell me that she falls for the line he hands out at The Church of the Sacred Acid.”
“I believe heart and soul in what he says, Damon. And I believe in him. He may not be a great lover, but he’s a great leader. The world will soon recognize that Just wait and see.”
I shrugged. I still wasn’t buying her story. But I wasn’t in the mood for debate. “Okay, he’s a great leader. And you think very highly of him. I have just one more question. Knowing what you know about my relationship with him, what’re you doing here in my bedroom? Doesn’t our little tete-a-tete strike you as slightly disloyal?”
She smiled prettily. “Not at all. You see, I told him I was coming to see you. He approved.”
“I don’t get it. A few hours ago I gave him a pretty rough time. Tomorrow night, he’s going to get an even rougher time unless he’s prepared to deliver what my buddies and I want from him. Now you’re telling me that you asked his permission to go to bed with me and he said yes?”
“That
’s right. You see, we have an arrangement. Since he can’t satisfy me sexually, he permits me to make love to whoever I choose.”
“Even if the man you choose happens to be his sworn enemy?”
“The Big Head has no enemies, Damon. He loves everyona—even those who abuse him.”
I decided to abandon the conversation. I still wasn’t buying her story, but I was tired of riding a merry-go-round of copouts and contradictions. If she had come to my apartment for more than sexual satisfaction, she’d let me know about it in her own good time. Meanwhile, if sex was all she was after, I’d give her her fill of it.
I lay silently on the bed. She lowered herself back into place against me. Her fingers began stroking my thigh. Her lips found my neck and began nibbling on it. Carla, who had remained at my side without a whimper through the entire discussion, automatically picked up where she had left off when the talking began.
A minute passed. Then a minute more. Then Chiquita got a bright idea. She told Carla about it in Spanish.
I listened closely and I understood every word, but when all the wd were strung together they didn’t make sense. All I could get out of the exchange was that Chiquita and Carla were going to entertain me with what they called a pasa doble. Literally, that translates as “double step” or “two step.” It’s the name of a popular Latin-American dance.
But whatever gave them the idea that I wanted to dance? Or to watch them dance? And if they weren’t talking about dancing, what were they talking about?
I soon found out.
Their conversation was over, the two beauties urged my feet legs over the side of the bed and knelt on the floor at my feet. Then Chiquita brought her lips to one ankle and Carla brought hers to the other. They began kissing their way upward.
Their tongues made hot, wet circles alongside the insides of my calves and thighs. Before long they had reached the point beyond which it was impossible to go. chiquita’s right hand and Carla’s left closed simultaneously around my quivering pillar. Their fingers interlocked, and they squeezed hard. Meanwhile, their tongues went to work on the area beneath.
