* * * *
Big Willie did have some instructions for Bo. He clicked the “reply” icon, typed out his message and clicked it on its way. Then he clicked on the remaining waiting message, the one he dreaded, but expected, from Sarasue. He glanced at the message, decided to read it, unzipped his pants and grabbed a handful of tissues from a box on the table.
Hi honey. I'm sorry to hear about Louise. I know you love her and that's okay with me. You let me get my tongue in her dark twat and you may discover she's not the prude you think she is. Picture this. Louise and I are on the bed and you are watching. I am kissing and fondling her. She does not participate, but she does not resist either. I begin to slowly undress her, fondle her chocolate breasts, kiss them and suck them. Louise begins to moan in spite of herself. When I begin to peel off her panties she says no, but does not resist. I rub her pussy a little and she moans some more. Don't stop she says when I pause to strip. I gently draw her hands to my boobs. Her slender fingers spider my tits. I press my lips to hers, run my tongue into her mouth. She moans. In disbelief you see her tongue touch mine and then disappear inside my mouth while I begin to masturbate her. She holds on to my head as I kiss down her body and then go to work on her clit. You see her thrashing about on the bed, moaning, groaning and then crying out as the orgasm hits her. You watch me gently draw her head to my left tit. You watch her suck my nipple. You can't stand it. You tear off your clothes and join us, but which one will you fuck?
Good night, big guy. Was it as good for you as it was for me?
When his pulse rate returned to normal, Big Willie flushed the soaked tissues down the toilet and carefully washed himself. As he put the bowl of beef stew in the microwave he thought, Man, she can write good dirty stuff. As the stew heated, the aroma of cooked onions filled the kitchen, causing his mouth to salivate. He ate the delicious stew quickly, thinking alternately of his never seen on-line lover and his suffering wife of nearly thirty years. He tore apart the last roll and soaked up the remaining broth from the bowl. He decided he couldn't stop Sarasue from writing and he would read the stuff, but never again would he reply to her. Eventually she would get bored and move on to another pen pal. With the last morsel of bread, he rubbed every sign of the stew from his bowl. “Damn,” he laughed out loud, “that bowl looks so clean I could just put it back into the cabinet."
He washed it anyway and checked his watch. It was after seven and Louise was expecting him. As he hurried out of the house, he saw the computer was still on and connected to the Internet. Before starting the shutdown process, he noticed the exclamation mark in the lower right-hand corner of the screen, indicating that he had a new message. He brought it up and read quickly.
Mr. Donaldson,
I want to thank you again for the time you spent with our group from Dot. We were most impressed with Tanglewood and with you. I have tried repeatedly to contact you by telephone, both at your office and at home. Finally someone named Bo answered your office telephone and told me of the tragedy involving your wife. He gave me your e-mail address. My prayers are with you and Mrs. Donaldson during this difficult time.
I know this is not the time to discuss business, but please call me as soon as you are comfortable in doing so. I want to discuss with you the possibility of your becoming the club pro at our new golf complex.
Sincerely,
Matt Dilson
Big Willie drove his old Ford pickup back to the hospital, but he felt as if he were floating on fleecy white clouds.
* * * *
“How'd it go with your advertising man? Did he like your stuff?” Bo asked as they ate dinner in the doublewide.
“He liked my stuff,” she replied, showing him a bank deposit slip.
“Damn,” he exclaimed in admiration. “You keep that up and I can quit my job and become a housewife."
“Househusband,” she corrected.
He laughed. “Whatever. I had a good day too."
“What happened?” she asked, pretending to be interested.
“I had the day planned carefully. Everybody showed up and I gave each one a written schedule—a checklist Tad calls it. They all completed everything on their lists and we were finished by four thirty. The new guys are working out great. I hope we can keep them after Big Willie gets back."
He interrupted his story to help Betty clear the table.
“I did some cleaning at Big Willie's and he came home just as I was leaving. He said Louise had a bad day. The doctors told her she would probably be paralyzed from the waist down for the rest of her life."
“God, that's awful. How is Big Willie holding up?"
“He seems resigned to whatever happens."
Betty was wearing an old tee shirt and shorts. As she began to wash dishes, Bo pressed against her backside, reached around and fondled her breasts. Discovering she was not wearing a bra, he pulled the shirt up to her armpits and kneaded her naked flesh. She clamped her teeth together to avoid crying out when he touched her bruised nipple.
God, she thought as she felt his growing erection pressing against her buttocks, he's so much bigger than Max.
“Since I finished so early, Tad offered to play nine holes with me,” Bo continued. “He had a 34—2 under par, and I had a 45—even bogey."
Betty knew what par meant, but she had no idea of the definition of bogey. “Is that good?” she asked as he pulled down her shorts.
“Damn right, it's good. Tad said it was great for my first time on the course. I'll have to confess he let me cheat a few times—'improve the lie’ or ‘foot-wedge’ as they call it. Big Willie would be mad as hell if he knew I played that way."
“I'm proud of you,” she said automatically and without conviction as she rinsed the last dish and stepped out of the panties he had pulled to her feet. “I thought you didn't like Tad, but the two of you seem to be buddies now."
“Betty,” he said, standing up and looking at the underwear in his hands. “You're bleeding."
She glanced at the panties. “It's just spotting,” she said. “Happens all the time.” She turned and pressed her body against him and invaded his willing mouth with her tongue.
Chapter Ten
“Are you in Charlotte, Max?” Betty asked as she balanced the telephone receiver between her cheek and shoulder while making change for a customer entering the park.
“No, Betty, I'm at the Ramada Inn in Clemmons again—same room, 128."
She took a deep breath while waving through the gate a car displaying a permanent pass. “I'm not coming."
“What the hell do you mean you're not coming?"
“I made a mistake two weeks ago. You turned me into a whore. My obsession with quick money turned me into a whore. Whatever. I've had time to think about it. If I can't succeed on the basis of talent, I'll accept failure."
“Bitch. We made a deal. You get your skinny ass over here or I'll let your husband and the people at Tanglewood know what a slut you really are."
“I can't stop you from doing that, Max. But neither can you stop me from letting your wife know about you."
Betty knew she should have hung up at that point, but she didn't. She had rolled the dice and wanted to know instantly whether she won the gamble or would have to capitulate. There was a long silence. Then he laughed.
“You win,” he said. “Have you worked on the other sketches?"
She rolled the dice again. “I've finished them all, but they're not for sale—not to you anyway."
“Look, I said you've won. Betty, the car dealer loves the promotion. The TV spot doesn't start running until next week, but he's already ordered a second video commercial."
“Congratulations.” She grinned wickedly, amazed that her plan was working so perfectly.
“I can do the thing without your new art. Can you afford to let this opportunity pass?"
“If you want to buy the caricatures and nothing else, you can come by here and pick them up."
“Okay, but I have the commercial vi
deo and a VCR with me. I thought you'd want to see the finished work."
The grin faded. She had not anticipated a chance to see the commercial. She did want to see it, but she said nothing, trying to buy a little time to think.
“Betty, come over on your lunch hour. I swear I won't touch you. You've made your point and I accept it. You can have your cake and eat it too."
His offer sounded sincere, but she still said nothing.
“Okay, then. I'll come by the gatehouse in a few minutes, pick up your work and leave the tape with you. Okay?"
“We don't have a TV.” She paused. She won. Why press it? “I'll come over there."
She was delighted to see her caricatures on the television screen and was surprised to see the cartoon figure dancing and it's mouth moving as it spoke.
“Computer animation,” Max explained. “They scanned in your caricatures and then used their software to make them move."
“But if they can do that, why do they need additional poses from me?” she asked.
“I'm not exactly sure,” he replied. “It has to do with facial expressions and spatial poses that the software can duplicate, but not create.” He clicked the rewind button on the remote control. “Want to see it again?"
“One more time,” she laughed.
He stood behind her chair as the third viewing neared its end and placed his hands on her shoulders. She jumped up, but he anticipated the move, grabbed and pulled her to him while twisting and forcing her left arm behind her. She felt her arm was on the verge of snapping in his strong grip and ended her resistance.
He pressed his lips to hers, pulled open her uniform jacket and jammed his hand inside her shirt. She turned her face away. “Max, you promised."
He found her lips again and thrust his tongue inside her mouth. His hand slid inside her bra and massaged her left breast. She felt her nipple growing taunt and her juices beginning to flow. “Max, this is rape,” she said when she managed to again break the kiss.
He yanked his hand out of her shirt while at the same time recapturing her mouth. He unbuckled her belt, unfastened and unzipped her pants. His hand slid down her belly, inside her panties and found her moist vagina. When she felt his finger on her clitoris, she began moving her hips involuntarily.
This time he broke the kiss. “You tell me you don't like this and I'll let you go."
She remained silent until the orgasm passed. “I'll make a deal with you,” she said coldly. “Let go of me."
He released her. “I'm listening,” he said.
“I'll be damned if I know why you are so interested in me sexually,” she began, “but I don't share the interest. Your dick is as small as your little finger. I can't even tell when you're inside me."
He winced noticeably. She expected him to hit her, but he didn't.
“There must to be something in it for me, and I'm not talking about money,” she continued. “When you need artwork done, I'll do it and you'll pay me a fair price like you promised. Okay?"
“I'm still listening."
“When you want sex, we do it my way, not yours. I'm the master. You're the slave. I call the shots—not the other way around. You obey my every command without hesitation. Do you understand me?"
“I understand, and I agree."
She was surprised, but pressed her advantage. “First, are you going to buy my new artwork?"
“I think we can use all ten,” he responded. “I'll have to let my people make the final decision. I'll send you a check in the mail."
“Take your clothes off,” she commanded. He complied.
“Now you can undress me.” He did.
“Now stand there and jerk off."
“Come on, Betty. I can do that at home."
She slapped him with all her might, leaving a red mark on his left cheek.
“Okay, okay, damn it,” he said and he began to pump his penis, grasped between the thumb and first two fingers of his right hand. When he ejaculated, she held a tissue over the head of his penis, wiped it clean, and commanded him to swallow it.
She did not feel that he was yet adequately humiliated. She opened her stance. “I need to pee. Drink it."
He immediately dropped to his knees and stroked her bottom while she emptied her bladder. “Salty enough for you?” she sneered. She turned around and pulled apart the cheeks of her buttocks. “Lick this."
He bathed her anus with his tongue, fully expecting her to defecate and a little disappointed when she didn't. She made him bend over the bed and lashed his buttocks with her uniform belt. She watched in amazement as his erection returned, a little with every blow. Finally, she rode him, commanding him to masturbate her with his thumb while she brought him to climax.
“You're one sick bastard,” she sneered.
“Look who's talking,” he said with a grin on his lips.
He bathed her as directed when they showered.
“How do you like being on the receiving end?” she asked.
He laughed. “I never thought of myself as being masochistic, but I must be. I just about lost it when you were whipping my ass, and you damned near killed me when you squeezed my balls."
“What's next?” she asked.
“Anything your imagination can dream up. I'll try anything once. There are a couple of sex shops in Charlotte. Want me to pick up a few toys for us to play with?"
“Suit yourself, but that's not what I was talking about. I meant what's my next job assignment?"
“Nothing definite right now. You ever notice those newspaper ads with sketches of women wearing underwear, bathing suits and stuff?"
“Sure."
“Well, you might want to practice doing that for a while. I'm working on a Wal-Mart account that would involve newspaper inserts along those lines. If I land it, it'll be my first national account."
“Good luck."
“I'll need more than luck. I think I'll get my people to do a storyboard for a dummy ad. I'll bring you some sample clothes to sketch in a few days. But you have to understand that if I don't get the business you don't get paid."
“I'll do my part,” she agreed, stroking his penis again with her soapy hand. “How do you do that?"
“Do what?"
“Get three erections in less than an hour? It's all Bo can do to get it up once a day."
They both laughed as she squatted in front of him, rubbing a rich lather on her breasts. “Let's try something new,” she said as she tightly pressed her breasts together, trapping his penis.
He got the idea. Minutes later the stream of water from the showerhead quickly washed his semen from her chest and neck.
As he held the motel room door open for her, Betty said, “Next time, if there is a next time, I want you shaved."
“But I did shave this morning,” he protested.
“I want you shaved from the neck down—armpits, chest, legs, pubic hair."
“How can I explain that to my wife?” he pleaded.
“That's your problem,” she replied.
* * * *
“Max picked up the new drawings today,” Betty said between mouthfuls of fried chicken and mashed potatoes, “but he didn't pay me anything. He said he would have to let ‘his people’ decide whether or not they are good enough."
“They're good enough,” Bo replied. “I still don't understand why this Max character drives up here to pick up your work. Why don't you just mail it to him or send it by UPS or something?"
“I don't know. It's his money and time, and he's the boss."
“Did you go by the Donaldsons’ this afternoon?"
“No. Look, Bo, I went over there everyday while Louise was in the hospital. Enough is enough."
“Hey, I was just asking. Pass me the biscuits."
“I'm glad Big Willie employed a practical nurse to stay with her."
“It was good to have Big Willie back at work today. I think he needed it more than we needed him. He seemed a little disappointed that things were in such good sh
ape."
“Hell, they ought to be. You've worked for over two weeks without a day off."
“Yeah, well, it looks like I'm going to have to work Monday too. Big Willie said he will be out of town all day."
“Damn, Bo. He's been out of work long enough. I hope whatever he is doing is important. You need a rest."
Bo was pleased. It was her first expression of concern for the long hours that he was working. “I'm not going to have Tuesday off either. At least not all day."
“What's happening on Tuesday?"
“Big Willie said he wanted me to come to the course about 3:30 and play a full round of golf with him. He sounded kinda funny when he asked me. I think he may have something else on his mind."
“Like what?"
“I don't know, but in my mind I tied together his out of town trip on Monday and the round of golf on Tuesday. I'm afraid he's getting ready to take a job somewhere else."
“Hot damn,” she said, pretending to be excited. “Then they would make you the greens-keeper and finally pay you what you're worth."
“I don't think so, Betty. I was good enough to fill in, but they would want someone with more experience if they have to replace Big Willie. Hell, if Big Willie leaves, I may wind up losing my job."
“Maybe Big Willie will want you to move with him if he does take a job at another course."
“Maybe, but what would you think of that?"
“As long as it isn't too far from Charlotte I wouldn't care,” she responded. “Sitting in that gatehouse all day is not something I plan to do for the rest of my life, you know."
He shrugged his shoulders, stretched and noisily yawned.
“Want to take a bath?” she grinned sensuously.
“Yeah,” he replied, “but that's all. I'm too exhausted for anything else."
Having become Max's dominatrix earlier in the day, she wasn't about to accept Bo's lack of interest. The session with Max whetted her sexual appetite. She yearned for the complete satisfaction Bo's well-developed penis could provide. She quickly ripped off her tee shirt, allowing her breasts to bounce free. “You sure?” she asked, shaking her shoulders vigorously and gripping her crotch like a rock performer on stage.
Sintown Chronicles I: Behind Closed Doors Page 34
