He played “Love for Sale,” then segued immediately into “The Lady Is a Tramp.”
I could leave now, she thought. I could.
“Why hello there! What luck running into you here!”
She turned, smiled back at Warren’s smile. She said quietly, “You sound surprised.”
“Merely pleased. Superb timing, I might say. One more number and Bert severs his shackles and becomes a free man again. May I buy you another of those?”
“Please.”
He ordered another applejack for her, another cognac for himself. “To our possibilities,” he said.
“Yes, that’s a good toast.”
“The waiting is difficult, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
“I think it enhances things, though. We suffer from an embarrassment of cars, by the way. Bert has his, I have mine, and I assume you didn’t come here on foot.”
“No, I drove.” Bert wrapped up the set with “Lover,” pushing the song along at a dizzying tempo. “My car is outside.”
“I’ll finish my drink now and go outside. I’ll wait in my car. Take you time finishing your drink; then go outside, and start your engine. You can follow me back to our house. Bert will be along in no time.”
“I don’t want to leave my car on the street.”
“It’s recognizable?”
“Very.”
“No problem there. I’ll pull up in front, you run your machine into the garage, and we’ll stack ours in the driveway behind it. It will entail a certain amount of vehicular maneuvering when you’re ready to leave, but we can put up with that.”
She nodded.
“And that won’t be for hours,” he said.
What fascinated her was that she seemed to have no will of her own. This had not been the case before. Even when the men she chose were strong and self-confident, as Hugh Markarian had been, she had always been the one who initiated, and in the course of things she had been more leader than follower. Now, in the living room of Warren Ormont’s house, she felt absolutely powerless and lacking in volition.
“That’s Bert’s car now,” he was saying. “He’ll be with us in a moment.”
She nodded.
“The characteristic putt-putt-putt of Bertram’s Volkswagen. Is your car a Triumph?”
“No, it’s a disaster.” He looked at her as if astonished that she was capable of a joke. “It’s an Alfa-Romeo, actually.”
“Do you like it?”
“Yeah, it’s fine. It needs a cigarette lighter.”
“Oh?”
“It had a perfectly good one but I threw it away this afternoon.”
“How bizarre.”
“I must of had something on my mind.”
“So it would seem,” he said. The VW engine died, and she heard a car door open and close. Warren reached for her, and she went to him. She was still off-balance and uncertain until his mouth found hers. Then her lips parted for his tongue, and her body pressed against him and her uncertainties dissolved in the familiar assurance of passion.
She heard the door open and tensed momentarily when Bert entered the room. But Warren did not release her so she returned to the security of his embrace. One of his hands closed on her buttock, squeezing, and his leg insinuated itself between hers. His thigh pressed her pubic mound and she felt his erection against her stomach. Bert moved around the room, dimming lights, stacking records on the stereo. She heard piano music thought at first that he was playing, then realized it was a record.
Warren had both his hands on her behind now, holding her in an almost painful grip and rotating his lips, grinding himself against her. She put her tongue tentatively into his mouth and he sucked on it immediately, and in her mind’s eye she saw him sucking thus upon a penis and her head swam. Hands opened the clasp of her dress at the nape of her neck. She thought they were Warren’s hands at first, but Warren’s hands still gripped her buttocks, and she realized it was Bert who was now undoing her zipper and easing her dress over her shoulder. Warren went on kissing her and Bert was tugging the dress free from her body and kissing the back of her neck. His hands moved in front of her, moved between her body and Warren’s and found her breasts. Her dress had dropped to the floor and Warren’s hands once again found her buttocks, stroking, pulling and pressing while Bert kneaded her breasts.
Warren released her, disengaged himself. He took a step backward and she swayed for him but Bert caught her and spun her toward him. He was naked. She had not realized this before. Her eyes darted immediately to his penis. He was erect, his penis very long and quite slender. Her hands reached for his penis as he drew her close and kissed her. She tried to insert him but he was too tall, so she settled for leaning against him and rubbing herself against the base of his penis.
Behind her she heard Warren undressing. She went on rubbing against Bert, trying desperately to reach an orgasm. She was almost there, almost there, when Bert released her and gave her back to Warren.
“Oh, God, fuck me,” she said.
“Patience, little one.”
“Don’t tease me.”
“We’ll both fuck you, little one. Just be patient. The night is young.”
“I can’t wait—”
“All hot and bothered?” His finger found her, penetrated. “Oh, yes, very warm indeed.” He held his finger out to Bert, and she saw Bert take Warren’s finger into his mouth and suck the taste of her from it. It seemed to her the most erotic gesture she had ever seen in her life. Her knees were weak. She could barely stand on her feet, and she swayed again, and Warren caught her.
On the stereo Dave Van Ronk sang:
They were walking her to the bedroom. Warren was on her right and Bert on her left and each had an arm around her waist, like two men helping a drunken friend home. And she felt drunk, dizzy drunk. Her arms hung loose at her side. As they reached the bedroom she reached out with both hands at the same time and took hold of a penis in each hand. Warren’s was thicker, she noted almost clinically, while Bert’s was longer. Her hands worked rhythmically, pumping both organs simultaneously. They walked her over to the big double bed. The covers were already turned down. Hands lifted her, placed her in the middle of the bed. She squirmed, unable to stay still, but they did not come to her. Instead she stared as they embraced at the side of the bed. She watched them kiss, watched Warren’s hands roam Bert’s body, watched Bert’s hands on Warren’s penis.
Mr. Dillinger drove up to a gasoline station
He said, “This looks like a mighty fine location.”
The attendant said, “Do you want any gas?”
“Well, it’s either your gas or your yaas-yas-yas...”
Somehow she had not expected that they would kiss each other. The specifically sexual acts she had had no trouble anticipating, visualizing, but she had not expected this sort of loveplay. At first it simply astonished her. Then she found it adding to her own excitement She had never been a spectator at other people’s love-making before.
But they did not ignore her for long. They drew apart — reluctantly, it seemed to her — and they joined her on the bed, one on each side of her. Two mouths began to kiss her while four hands acquainted themselves with her body. She closed her eyes and abandoned herself to sensation. A mouth on each of her breasts, both of them sucking her at once. Hands everywhere, fingers in her lower parts, both front and back, both of these powerful men busying themselves with all of her.