Mindy was now panting her way through her fourth orgasm of the night, the second of this particular round of activity. Jake felt her clenching against him as she came and had to renew his struggle to suppress his own orgasm. Darla reacted to Mindy's spasms as well. Unable to contain herself, she leaned forward and attached her mouth to the back of Mindy's neck, licking and sucking the flesh there.
"No no!" Mindy moaned, reaching back with her left hand and pushing Darla's face away. "You know the rules."
"Oh god, Mindy!" Darla pleaded. "Let me kiss you! Please? Let me put my mouth on you and lick you and suck you and..."
"You know the rules," Mindy repeated. "Keep your girly mouth off of me or you'll never touch me again."
Darla groaned in frustration but quickly turned the situation around. She grabbed hold of Mindy's breasts and, using them for leverage, began to slam rapidly in and out of her anus. "You're just a fucking bitch, aren't you, Mindy?" she asked.
"Yes! Yes! I'm a fucking bitch!" Mindy agreed.
"And you like my fake cock in your ass, don't you?"
"I fucking love it!" Mindy groaned. "Fuck me harder, both of you! Fuck me faster! Twist my fucking nipples! Somebody spank me!"
Jake really though he wasn't going to last another ten seconds under this onslaught. Fortunately, he was saved by the bell. Sitting next to the bed was Mindy's Louis Vuitton purse. From within it, a shrieking electronic warbling began to sound. That was Mindy's cellular phone, the gadget that was all the latest rage among the elite these days. Jake didn't have one yet. He didn't see the point in allowing people to call you while you were away from home or in your car, especially since there were so few towers to transmit the signal that it was out of range half the time anyway. But Mindy's husband had given her the latest, greatest, most technologically advanced model available on the market these days. It was actually small enough to fit inside of her purse as long as she took most of the other stuff out first.
"Oh god," Mindy moaned. "I gotta answer that. It's probably Scotty."
"Let it ring," Darla told her. "I wanna watch Jake come in you."
"I have to answer it," Mindy said. "He thinks I'm meeting with Georgette tonight about the premier party we're having next month. I don't have an excuse not to answer. He already knows I have coverage in Georgette's house."
"Asshole," Darla grunted.
Mindy leaned over and grabbed her purse. Darla and Jake both moved to withdraw from her but she wasn't having any of that. "No," she said as she pulled the fourteen-inch, four-pound phone from her purse and extended the eleven-inch antenna. "Keep fucking me while I talk to him."
They looked at each other and shrugged. By now, both were aware of Mindy's vicious contempt for her husband. Darla resumed pushing and pulling the strap-on in her butt and Jake resumed moving his more permanent structure within her vagina.
"This is Mindy," Mindy said brightly into the phone, not a trace of a grunt or groan in her voice. "Who's this? You're a little scratchy." A pause. "Oh hey, baby. What's up?"
Jake could hear the tinny sound of Winslow's voice talking in Mindy's ear but he couldn't quite make out the words.
"Oh, we're just finishing up here," Mindy told her husband as she ground her pelvis around on Jake's erection. "Yes, we had quite the session."
Darla had to stifle a little giggle. She then gave an extra-hard lunge into Mindy's body. Mindy let out a startled "hmmph" in response. Winslow's voice squeaked out a few more tinny words.
"Oh... nothing," Mindy said, casting an amused glare at Darla. "I had a little cramp in my tummy is all. Yeah. Must've been something that girl is feeding me."
A few more squeaky words.
"Scotty says hi, Georgette," Mindy said.
Darla leaned back a bit, put her hand in front of her mouth, and, using a voice much deeper than her own, said, "Hi, Mr. Winslow."
"Yeah," Mindy said. "She has a little bit of a cold. Well, listen, hon, we're gonna finish up here real quick and I'll be on my way home. Right. Okay. Love you. Bye."
She clicked off the phone and dropped it back in her purse, where it made a fairly respectable thunk.
"What a moron," Darla said with a giggle.
"Yep," Mindy agreed. "Now, how about we 'finish up' like I said we would. I need to get home pretty soon."
They finished up, although it wasn't exactly quick. It was thirty-one more minutes before they disengaged from each other. Jake said his goodbyes before Mindy and Darla climbed into the shower together to "clean each other off". He was invited to stay and watch but he politely declined. He was tired, sore, and pretty much used up for the night. He also had to be back at the rehearsal warehouse at nine o'clock tomorrow morning. Now that the start date for the tour was less than two weeks away, they had actually progressed to the point that they were playing music almost more than they were arguing.
He drove home listlessly, sipping a can of beer from Darla's refrigerator and chain-smoking cigarettes. It was just after eleven o'clock when he pulled into his driveway. He was thinking that if he had just two more beers (just two, he told himself, not four or six), he could get into bed my midnight and sleep peacefully until the alarm went off at seven-thirty.
He found a note from Elsa on the bar refrigerator. It said that Pauline wanted him to call her, no matter how late he got in and, that if he'd been out visiting "whatever new friend you've made" and if he had not showered before donning his clothes again, that he was to remove his underwear and pants and place them directly into the washing machine so she would not be forced to handle them ("and remove your goddamn cigarette lighters and beer caps from the pockets", she added as a PS).
Jake tossed the note into the garbage can, pulled a Corona and a lime slice out of the refrigerator, opened the beer and inserted the lime, and then picked up the bar phone extension, wondering what kind of shit had hit the fan this time. There was only one way to find out. He dialed Pauline's private number.
She picked it up on the third ring.
"Hey, sis," he said. "It's Jake. What's up?"
"Hey, Jake," she said, sounding a little tired and frazzled. "Where have you been? I've been trying to get you all night. Elsa said she didn't know where you were off to."
"I was out visiting a friend," Jake told her.
"Ahh," she said. "In other words, mind my own business. I get it."
"And I appreciate it," Jake replied. "So what's going on? More bad news?"
"I suppose you could say that," she said. "Charlie got arrested at about eight this evening."
"Oh shit," Jake said, shaking his head. "For what? Drunk driving?"
"Uh... no. For lewd conduct."
"Lewd conduct?" Jake said, not totally surprised. This was Charlie, after all. "What happened?"
"Two LAPD cops were on patrol and spotted his car in a back corner of Macarthur Park."
"Macarthur Park? Jesus. What the hell was he doing in that part of town?"
"Getting a blowjob from a known prostitute," Pauline said. "They caught him red handed — so to speak. He had his pants down around his ankles in the front seat of his car, two condoms on his whanger, and two pairs of latex gloves on his hands. The prostitute, one Bobbi Martinez, was orally servicing him."
"Christ," Jake said. "How bad is it going to be? Is it going to delay the tour?"