These Curious Pleasures

by Sloane Britain

  I paid Theresa for two night's rent. She left us and went back to the bar.

  Neither of us had any luggage to unpack. That was one of the little details we had overlooked. Another one was not bringing a bottle. The situation demanded—no, screamed for—liquor.

  "I'd like a drink. How about you?" I asked.

  "Yes, I'd like one but I'd like to rest for a moment before going down to the bar," Allison replied.

  "Suppose I ask Theresa if she'll sell us a bottle and we can drink it up here? It's illegal but I think she'll do it."

  "Good idea," Allison agreed. "I'd like cognac. Is that all right with you?"

  "Fine. Anything with it?"

  "No, I like it straight. Hurry back, darling." Allison flopped down on the bed and assumed an exaggeratedly sexy pose. Then she smiled at me lazily, mocking my self-conscious formality.

  I bent over her and kissed her lightly on the tip of her nose, then hurried out.

  I asked Theresa if she would sell me the cognac.

  "Why not?" she replied, as if she couldn't lose her liquor license by doing it.

  She got the bottle out from behind the bar and wrapped it up with two snifters in a piece of newspaper. As she was handing it to me, she said, "Your friend is very pretty."

  I didn't know what to say. I couldn't thank her for the compliment to my taste as a man would have done.

  "Those pretty ones, they can be very dangerous," Theresa continued. "They have too many admirers. They don't appreciate the ones who love them. Sometimes it is better to love someone who is not so beautiful."

  She came close to me and looked at me intently. "You are very attractive also. But you have true feelings. I know that. You are not one of those who uses her beauty to conquer and destroy. I was never beautiful. Not even when I was young. But I have known love. Yes, there were men who looked at me and found me beautiful because there was beauty in them. Forgive me, I talk too much. Go now and enjoy the brandy."

  I went all right. Boy, was I embarrassed. Theresa hadn't said anything that definitely stated she knew what the score was but a microcephalic idiot would have gotten the drift behind her words.

  Allison appeared to be asleep when I got back to the room. She was lying on her back, her arms flung out carelessly. I tip-toed into the bathroom to wash the glasses. When I came back she was lying in the same position but her eyes were open.

  "Did you get the cognac?"

  "Yes. Hennessey. Is that all right?" I replied.

  "Fine. Pour me a stiff one, will you."

  I poured about three fingers of cognac into each of our glasses and handed one of them to Allison. I sat down on the bed beside her. We clicked glasses in a mute toast.

  Allison took a large drink and then smiled. "What does one say on an occasion like this? 'Happy days?' 'Skol?' 'Here's mud in your eye?' "

  "I guess that's what's wrong with both of us. We're pushing it too hard," I said.

  "Well, it does seem absurdly like a honeymoon. Anyway, I feel as nervous as a bride."

  I giggled self-consciously and said, "Me too. We can't both be brides. We'd cancel each other out."

  "That seems to be what we're doing." Allison moved over on the bed until her body was against my hip. She took my hand in hers. I clutched the glass with my other hand so tightly it's a wonder it didn't shatter.

  "Did you know that Havelock Ellis didn't consummate his marriage until two weeks after the ceremony?" I babbled. "He gave his wife time to lose her nervousness. Each night he would sleep beside her and touch her in an increasingly intimate way until she was ready to accept him without timidity. Did you know that?" I asked again, my voice high and tight.

  "Three cheers for the noble Mr. Ellis." Allison smiled mischievously and took another long pull on her drink. "If I had been Mrs. Ellis, I probably would have been so wrought up by the time he got around to it that I would have attacked him myself."

  "Sounds delightful. If I had been Mr. Ellis, that's precisely the way I would have worked it."

  "Methinks you're trying to tell me something. I've got it. You want me to rape you."

  "Promises... all I ever get is promises." Allison's kidding was beginning to relax me.

  "Oh? Tell me, what do I get for my trouble if I do force myself to rape you?" she asked.

  "Everything you deserve, darling. Everything you deserve."

  Allison put her hands on my shoulders and drew herself up to a sitting position. She placed her palms on both sides of my face. Slowly she brought her face closer to mine, her eyelids gradually lowering. "Did I ever tell you that you're a bitch, Sloane darling? A delightful, intoxicating bitch."

  Our lips met. Allison's mouth was like all the sweetness and softness in the world. I moved deeper and deeper into the yielding warmth of her mouth with a thirst that couldn't be slaked. She moved her mouth against mine softly. Then the tip of her tongue was probing.

  I embraced her tightly, molding her body to mine and pushed her down on the bed.

  I clasped her to me convulsively and pushed my tongue between her parted lips.

  I could hardly breathe. I didn't want to. I was weak with need. Lost in the fluid sweetness of Allison.

  Abruptly, she released me and pulled her mouth away from mine. "I hate to inject a prosaic note at this point but, since we don't have any other clothes to wear, I think we ought to be careful of them," she said.

  "Oh, yeah, I guess so."

  We got up. I went over to Allison to help her but she signalled me away. I undressed without looking at her.

  When I had all my clothes off, I looked up. Allison was standing in the classic pose of a woman proud of her body, her legs parted and her head thrown back. Her high pointed breasts swelled out toward me magnificently from the warm golden glow of her body. The dim light from the bedside lamp washed over her smooth taut skin, creating provocative shadows between her breasts and in the dimpled indentations of her lower body.

  She stood that way for a moment, looking at me through half-closed eyes. Then she moved with the grace of a dancer to the lamp. She shut it off and crossed quickly to the window. She drew up the blind.

  Blue moonlight laved her body. She looked cold and remote as a statue. I looked at her as she stood at the window, her back to me, her arms spread out in an attitude of supplication toward the moon. It was a ridiculous pose, overdone to the point of caricature. Knowing Allison, I knew that she was most likely smiling at her own melodramatic gesture.

  But I wasn't smiling. My body was still warm from where she had so recently lain against it and my mouth was lonely for hers.

  I went over to the window and pressed my body against hers. The soft flesh of her back pressed intimately to me. I brought my arms around her and ran one finger over her parted lips. Then I trailed my hands down over her. Back and forth, around and around, I moved my hands. I cupped her firm breasts in my palms and gently kneaded the velvet tips. Then I pressed my hands flat against her and moved them downward. I tensed my hands and ran just my fingertips lightly over the trembling flesh of her thighs. Allison moaned.

  She turned in my arms and embraced me passionately. I continued to trail my fingertips all over her body. Allison was trembling violently. She was half embracing me and half holding onto me for support.

  "Please, please, baby. Please, please, please," she murmured.

  I moved toward the bed, supporting Allison's limp body with one arm. I laid her down on the bed.

  She lay there with her eyes closed, her mouth parted and gasping for breath. I stood beside the bed, tracing the outlines of her body with my fingertips. Her legs separated. I moved my hand downward.

  "Sloane, Sloane, I love you."

  Our lips met and Allison bit hungrily against my mouth. Her body was moving in an ecstatic rhythm against mine. Tensed up and pushing greedily into me and my body bearing down against her in the same increasing tempo.

  I wanted to become part of her. Make her part of me. To devour her. To feed deeply on the sw
eetness that was Allison.

  "Baby, oh, oh, baby," I gasped.

  "Give me your mouth. Sloane, give it to me!" Allison breathed.

  I brought my mouth down on hers and again explored the hot wetness of it. It was too much for me. With a violent effort, I pulled my mouth from hers and drew it down to her breasts. I kissed first one then the other.

  Then my mouth was everywhere. Lips, tongue, hot flesh and the liquid fire of love.

  * * *

  The next morning we had breakfast with Theresa, and then I drove Allison around the lovely countryside. She was enchanted by the old Dutch and German names of the surrounding towns. We had lunch in a replica of a Rhine Valley chateau and then went hiking along an old Indian trail. We weren't dressed for hiking so it wasn't long before we gave it up and got back in the car again.

  I followed a twisting dirt road to the crest of a mountain and parked the car on a turn-off. Below us the countryside spread out almost too beautiful to be real.

  I slid over on the seat and put my arm around Allison.

  "Suppose someone sees us?" she asked.

  "We would hear a car coming before it could see us. don't worry." I gathered her to me and kissed her. Lightly at first and then harder. But our mouths were sore from the passion of the night before. We kissed each other gently, carefully solicitous while we still had composure enough to be.

  I slid my hands inside her coat and caressed her breasts. "Not here, Sloane. We can't do anything here," Allison said.

  "What makes you think I intend to do anything?" I teased. "You're taking an awful lot for granted, young lady."

  "Don't you think I have a right to after last night?"

  "Not at all. How do you know that I'm not a female Don Juan? That now that I've had you I've not lost interest?"

  "I doubt that," Allison replied. "From what I can see 'increase of appetite has grown from what it fed upon'."

  She was right. Lord, she was right. Just touching her through all that clothing was sending me straight out of my mind.

  I pulled myself away and started up the car. I drove down the mountain as fast as I could without cracking us up.

  "Where are you going in such a hurry?" Allison asked.

  "Back to the Inn. I want to freshen up before dinner," I replied. "I thought we could have a drink in our room."

  "You must want that drink an awful lot from the way you're speeding."

  "Dammit, Allison, don't make it any harder for me. I want you, baby. I can't wait until tonight."

  "I want you too. Hurry, darling, please."

  We parked the car and rushed up to our room. Allison preceded me. I locked the door while she drew the window blind down.

  We went to each other like being possessed. Our carefully attended to clothing was ripped off in a mad excess of haste.

  Then Allison was in my arms again and I was devouring her lovely body. My mouth was all over her and the wonder of her was on me, through me, in me, part of me.

  Afterward, we lay side by side in the silent stillness of satiation.

  After a little while Allison glided smoothly over on the bed until she was lying over me. She did things with her hands and lips. Things that I had done to her. The insidious flame started to burn again in me.

  "No. Don't. You don't have to. I'm all right," I said.

  Allison smiled softly and said, "I know. It was wonderful.”

  "You must want that drink an awful lot.”

  She was gentle. So gentle that desire was an aching thing within me. It was as if she were teasing the longing in me to grow. My passion reached out to her tenderly caressing mouth and hands.

  Then Allison's need matched my own. She became almost fierce in her lovemaking. Faster and faster she coaxed the apex of my passion out of me. Then I was hers and she was mine, together in the ultimate intimacy.

  CHAPTER 9

  Monday came as Mondays do... don't ask me why. More people commit suicide in the United States on Monday than on any other day of the week. No wonder. Not that I felt depressed or anything. It was just that it was wrong for me to have to go into the office that day. It was absurd, ridiculous that I should be pretending to give a damn about anything else besides Allison Millay.

  I barely made it on time. We didn't leave Woodstock until early Monday morning and arrived in the city only twenty minutes before I was due at the office. Allison kept the car engine running while I dashed up to my apartment and changed clothes. I ran down to the car again still buttoning my blouse. Allison drove me to the office.

  Leaving Allison was hard enough but convention had to stick its warty nose into it. After a weekend like we had had it was a hell of a leave-taking. She pulled the car up to the curb and turned to me to say good-bye. That's all we could do... say inadequate things. I couldn't kiss her or hug her or do anything. Shaking hands would have been just too much.

  Happy was out most of the day showing the Amy Ferguson pilot to the ad agencies. He came back to the office late in the afternoon. He didn't look too happy.

  In the ensuing weeks Happy showed the pilot at least thirty times. The reports that came in later were all pretty much the same. The pilot was a great job. Nice acting, funny script, good story line, well executed piece of photography but...That's what they all said, but. But our product appeals to teen-agers and they aren't interested in Amy Ferguson. But we need a program that will attract viewers in the small towns and the pilot was too cosmopolitan in its outlook. But it was too sophisticated for the average viewer. That was the most frequent criticism. I didn't get it. To me the pilot was about as sophisticated as Little Women. I learned something from that experience. The powers that be in the television industry made my cynicism about the American public seem like idealism. They thought that anything on a higher level than Lassie was for Sunday afternoon programming only.

  That night I went to Allison's apartment for dinner. Her room-mate, Ruth Gardner, was there. She had a date for dinner but had enough time to have a drink with us. That was enough. It put my mind at ease. Ruth Gardner was as gay as Helen of Troy. She had no idea about Allison. It wasn't the sort of thing she would think about. Ruth was strictly a man's woman.

  Realizing that she wasn't homosexual, hence not having an affair with Allison, would have been enough to make me like her. But, in addition, I was immediately impressed by Ruth's mind. She wasn't brilliant, just pleasantly intelligent. The impressive thing was her obvious fairmindedness. Most people let prejudices overwhelm them to the point where they close their minds. Ruth insisted on maintaining question marks. She had preferences but she was willing to explore them and new things and ideas that might possibly change her point of view. A rare quality.

  The two girls had gotten together through lucky accident. Ruth had just found the apartment when Allison arrived in New York. The apartment was big enough for two people and Ruth wanted a room-mate to help cut down on expenses. She advertised in the newspaper and Allison had responded to the ad. It was a risk for both of them. One never knows what she'll meet through a newspaper ad. They would have been satisfied to just be room-mates with someone who would be neat and mind her own business. As it turned out, they had many interests in common and quickly became real friends. Allison gave Ruth advice about her somewhat muddled relationships with her boyfriends and Ruth advised Allison about finding acting jobs in New York.

  Allison had made a small compromise. She invented boyfriends to tell Ruth about so that the other girl wouldn't become suspicious. After meeting Ruth I wondered if this had been necessary. I felt that Ruth was the sort of woman who wouldn't give a damn if someone wanted to go to bed with chimpanzees, as long as they didn't try to involve her in it. I didn't blame Allison for not taking her into her confidence about being gay. It's a delicate matter and a girl can get herself into a lot of trouble' if she's not discreet. But I wasn't overly worried about making slips in front of Ruth.

  After Ruth left for her date, Allison and I had dinner. It was a good meal. Allison
could cook. The more I knew her, the more talents I was finding out about.

  We took our coffee into the living room. I sat down on the couch and Allison sat on my lap. It was the sort of position that would look ridiculous to an observer. Grown people just don't sit on each other's laps. 'But it seemed perfectly all right because we were alone and it was just the sort of faintly ludicrous thing that helps to break down formality. After establishing an intense relationship with someone it was always difficult for me to pick up the pieces after an interruption. Allison took care of that. By sitting on my lap she made it possible for me to seduce her all over again, but delicately.

  I wrapped my arms around her and she laid her cheek against mine.

  We sat in contented silence for some moments. I felt warmer and more at peace with myself than I had in years.

  "The week-end was very important to me, Allison. I want you to know that. I loved you before we went to bed. That's what made our physical closeness so much the more wonderful. I've had good sex before, lots of it. But never before this have I been left with such a feeling of inner satisfaction. It's as if my soul had been satisfied along with my body."

  "I know. I feel the same way," she replied.

  "Love me?"

  "Yes. Oh God, yes."

  "Keep telling me that. Please, I know it's ridiculous. I should be content to just know it but I want to keep hearing you say it."

  In answer she kissed me. The pressure of her lips at first made them sting but as I started to respond the pain went away. Her lips were so soft. Her mouth a spring of goodness from which I drank peace.

  It was a long kiss. Keeping our lips still locked together I shifted our positions so that Allison was lying on her back on the couch.

  I could feel her firm breasts pressing up against me. The tension was mounting in me. The room seemed to have become unaccountably warmer.

  I pulled my head up and looked at Allison. She lay beneath me with her eyes closed, her mouth slightly parted. God, she was beautiful. The soft lamplight brought out the gold highlights in her hair. Her complexion was flawless. I noticed that one eyebrow was different from the other. One was curved more. She had used eyebrow pencil to give the effect of equal arches but viewed this close I could see the difference. This little blemish to her perfection pleased me. As did her attempt to cover it up for my sake.