"Lesbo Lessons" - читать интересную книгу автора (Twacht Twyla)

Chapter 8

The newcomer who narrowly missed Mike was Joe Mills. Ever since he had caught Mara Blake and Ruth Peter making love during the faculty picnic, the idea of using the knowledge in some way to his advantage had never left him. At first he thought he would simply use it to ask Ruth to put through a request for a higher raise because he was undertaking special duties. Then he thought of asking her to back him downtown at the Board of Education for the chairmanship of a new school that would open soon.

Normally he would not have much of a chance. He had not had enough experience in the Los Angeles area. But he knew that Ruth Peter was in solid with the appointments chief, a prissy little bitch who was hard to get dose to. But Ruth had a lot of clout with her since they had gone to school together. Yes, that was a better idea, he told himself. But why not also get a little piece of Mara Blake's ass while he was at it. His memory of her exquisite body gave him a healthy erection when he thought of it. At fifty-three, Joe Mills did not get too many chances to make love to girls of Mara's age or beauty. Since his divorce from his second wife, he had had to resort to middle-aged widows he picked up at dances for older singles. Occasionally at a faculty party he was able to navigate an older married teacher into a convenient bedroom.

But these opportunities were not only rare in turning up, they did not satisfy him. During the Korean war he had taught school briefly in a school for American kids in Seoul, children of American troops stationed there. It was a boom time for Joe Mills. The town was full of lovely Korean girls and he had balled many of them. That had lasted two years and then he had taken a job in the States in Missouri. Hating the middle western climate, he had drifted back to Europe where he married another American schoolteacher. They had got divorced after she came home one day and found pubic hairs in his bidet. His wife, a conservative New Englander, had confronted him with proof that he was screwing their maid in Munich and that was it.

She had left and he had come home to scrounge a job in Los Angeles through friends. But his life was a sterile one. He lived in a small apartment in a swimming pool complex filled with youngsters who treated him like an old man. It hurt him deeply. True, he was almost completely bald and he had a heavy paunch, but he could still compete in the sack with any of the younger neighbors. He just never got the chance. Occasionally he got himself invited to parties in the building where there were plenty of girls and liquor and as the ranks of guests thinned out, he tried to latch on to some girl for the evening. It had never worked. A few times he managed to get a girl to his place next door for a nightcap or took the girl home to her place.

When he got in the door, it was hopeless. He would paw at the girls, try to kiss them, all to no avail. If they were kind they would simply tell him they were too tired. But many of them just laughed at him for being a dirty old man. That epithet was what hurt most. One night he had taken home a very pretty blonde from UCLA to show her some pre-Columbian relics he collected. The girl, an anthropology major, had readily agreed to come.

When he got there and gave her a drink, he started fooling around, first kissing her neck and then putting a hand cautiously on her right breast. The girl, barely twenty, had pretended a fly had landed on her and gave him no heed. Irritated, he had taken his hand away and boldly put up between the girl's smooth warm thighs. She had fought and he had pinned her down with his superior weight. He had managed to get his forefinger in her pussy when suddenly he heard her sneer.

"Christ, if I'd known you were a dirty old man I'd have never come in here. Get away from me."

He had persisted nevertheless and disgustedly she had allowed him to poke his finger into her vagina until he was on fire but she refused to lay for him and said she would scream if he tried to force her, even accuse him of rape. Terrified of losing his job at the school, he had stopped. But the hurt had rankled deeply.

A few weeks later, trying again, he wormed his way into the party giver's bedroom after everyone had left. The hostess, half crocked, had taken a shower and then put herself naked between the sheets, assuming her guests had already left. To her astonishment Joe Mills came in just as she was about to put out the light. She realized that her breasts could be seen and hastily covered herself up to the neck.

"What's up, Joe?" she asked nervously. "I thought everybody left. I didn't see you in there."

He blushed. "I was in your kitchen behind the washing machine."

Her eyes widened. "And why did you do that? What were you doing, playing hide and seek?"

He looked at the beautifully shaped dark-eyed girl, whose superb proportions were clearly outlined by the thin sheet over them. What the hell could he tell her, he thought. That he wanted to fuck her? He could not get the words out. Instead he had lowered his pants and stepped out of them before she could say anything.

She stared at his thick hairy legs and his under shorts and frowned. "Get the hell out of here Joe."

He took his shorts off and got into bed, still not saying anything, stripped the sheet away from her body and started to suck her breasts. His hand went down to her pussy.

"I don't believe this," she said in amazement. "You must be crazy."

He ignored her, letting his mouth slobber greedily over her breasts and then down to her navel, until she began to pummel his back with her angry fists.

"Get off of me, you fat sick old man," she yelled. "Get your ugly fat carcass off me or I'll call the cops right now, you hear me, you fat bastard."

"Please Lenore," he pleaded. "All I want to do is make love to you. I was watching you during the party. You were smiling at me and we had a great talk together. I thought you wouldn't mind."

"Wouldn't mind?" she laughed. "Wouldn't mind? I wouldn't go to bed with you if you were the only male in town. Get the hell off me."

"But you acted like you liked me…" he began.

"Because I had you here as a guest," she retorted.

"And the only reason I let you come is because Ruth Jennings felt sorry for you and you let her use your car. I told her you were too old and that I couldn't stand your personality. Now I know why."

In an effort to drawn out her words, the paunchy English teacher began to lower his mouth to her navel and then began to suck her pussy. Far a moment the rich pungent aromas of her vagina and the cologne she had sprayed it with excited him so much that he heard nothing. He kept sucking her hairy slit, deaf to her pleas, reveling in the delight of having his mouth an a young girl's vulva. He held her down severely with all his strength and finally she had lain there limp, her only sound a low moan of disgust with him.

The lapping of her pussy had made him very excited sexually and he had tried to spread her legs so he could mount her. But that alerted her again. Seizing a heavy ashtray beside her bed, she had raised it and threatened to bash his skull with it.

"Get off me and get out of here or I'll crack your skull," she warned. "If you go now I won't say anything. Get out."

He stood on his knees, his pudgy-looking erect penis dangling foolishly in front of him.

"Just let me put it in your pussy for a minute." he begged. "Just a minute, that is all."

She shook her head, "You disgust me. Just get the hell out. I'll put what you did down to the fact that you were smashed and acted like a lunatic. But I don't want you here any longer."

He wet his lips as he stared at Lenore's vulva, wet by his tongue and saliva. He had a terrible need to climax. The sight of her pussy was driving him up the wall.

"Can I at least do it by putting it in your mouth," he begged, "It wouldn't take long. Really it wouldn't. I promise you. Just a minute and I'll come."

She looked at him as if he were same insect, a look that seemed to penetrate right through him.

"Let me at least put it between your thighs then," he wheedled. "Without doing anything else, okay? That won't hurt you, Lenore, and it would give me so much pleasure. Please."

"I wouldn't go down on you for a million dollars, you fat creep," she snapped at him. "The only reason I'm not reporting this is that I don't want to go through the time and bother of a police thing and a trial. But if you hang around here another five minutes I'll change my mind."

"All I'm asking is that you-" he wheedled.

Her harsh laugh raked his eardrums. "Jesus I was warned by one of the girls that you were a dirty old man who went around trying to crash parties and cop feels of girls who drank too much. I should have listened. Now I'm warning you. Get the hell out of here fast."

As he stared at her, his eyes tearing, she looked at him without fear, only contempt "Jesus, if you're that horny, why don't you try some woman your own age… No girl in her right mind would want anyone who looked like you."

Her voice was tinged with a cruelty he had not heard before. He dressed hurriedly and left as she continued to jeer at him. Later in his own flat, he tried to reassure himself. She had talked that way because he had nearly raped her, or thought he would. She had just hit back because he had forced himself on her. But her harsh insults still grated on his nerves and he could not forget them. For months afterwards, he came home late, hiding behind large supermarket bags in order to avoid her eyes. And the smiling faces of other girls. In time it became obvious that everybody in the building knew what happened and he was afraid to even go near the swimming pool.

When an unidentified tenant scrawled "dirty old man" on his door one night, he looked for a new apartment. Ever since that day he had looked at pretty young girls with a mixture of fear and longing. Patty O'Hare, for in stance, who was in one of his classes, made him so horny that he could barely stand it. She came to his class in The Romantic Age of English Literature wearing either a tight miniskirt that drove him nuts or short shorts that revealed that she had legs that nearly went up to her throat. After a class with her, he found himself scratching at his crotch and his temples would ache. But he so feared her recognizing his desire that he went out of his way to be kind to her. Even to the point of giving her grades she did not deserve.

When Mara had arrived, he had seen her on her initial tour of the departmental rooms and immediately he had experienced a strong desire for her, That night as he lay on his chaste cot, he had visions of stripping her naked, of laying her, of feeling her breasts in his mouth, The sensation was so powerful in his mind that he had actually been able to taste her skin or imagined that he could. It was a sweet taste of toasted almonds. And then he thought of how her pussy would taste and smelt "Like oranges," he said aloud. "Her cunt tastes like oranges and smells like freshly laundered sheets,"

But again he had been extra careful with her at the picnic. He had been amused at Tom Leonard's erection and the stain of semen on his trunks. But he had envied him the experience of pressing his penis against her, of pumping it against the beautiful girl's pussy and he had had his own erection to contend with as he looked at the Eurasian girl in her fetching tight shorts.

Yet he had not dared really make a blunt move. True, he might have some luck with her in time better luck once she did not have the American mentality that automatically thought of him as a dirty old man. Maybe in time, he had thought, he might even get into her pants. But there was no reason why he couldn't make a feint at it now, he told himself. So he had wandered out after her in the woods following her encounter with Leonard. He was half hoping he could score, but in his heart of hearts he did not really expect it. She would probably look upon him as a dirty old man too, he told himself, resignedly.

His only chance might be that she needed a friend. But when he had caught Mara making love to Ruth Peter everything had changed. For one thing he felt triumphantly that he now had the upper hand. He did not think of what he planned as sexual blackmail, only a way to open the door. He would let Mara know that he had seen her having lesbian sex, then he would placate her, quieting her fears.

"Don't worry about it, honey. I won't tell a soul at the school," he would assure her. "All I want is for us to be real friends, that's all. The other thing doesn't really concern me. That's between you and Ruth."

After brooding about his plan for several days, Mills decided he needed more proof of the lesbian relationship before he could go any further. Supposing what he had seen in the woods had been a one-shot? Supposing Mara had somehow been forced into it by Ruth Peter? It would alter his plan. Besides, he was no longer positive about what he had seen that day at the picnic.

He had drunk too much of that spiked punch, even though he knew he had a low tolerance for liquor; a couple of strong drinks of any booze made him a little dizzy. Had he really heard all those terms of endearment, he asked himself over and over again?

Had Ruth Peter, that formidable cold bitch of the frozen north as he sometimes referred to her in his own mind, actually said to Mara Blake: "Tell me what I'm doing to you" after sucking the Eurasian's cunt? Had she sucked Mara's cunt? He recalled dimly that Ruth had said aloud: "I want you to use the old English words… they give me pleasure." And then had not Mara replied: "I love it when you suck my little pink cunt?" That was what he thought she had replied. And then Ruth had said something like "my cunt is a bit yellowish isn't it?" Or had Mara said that? Goddamn it, he really wasn't sure of anything.

Maybe he hadn't seen them go down on each other or have all that sex talk. Maybe he had been victimized by his damned habit of promoting sexual fantasies in his head, especially when he had too much booze. He realized that he had to get more evidence, nail down his memories somehow before making any dangerous moves.

The incident with the girls in his apartment building had made him extraordinarily cautious. For a while he contented himself with spying on Mara and Ruth during school hours. He would follow them into the school library when they entered together, hoping for some sign of a strong tie between them. During lunch hours he would sit and watch them in a corner of the cafeteria. Near enough to listen.

Nothing happened. Their conversation was what anyone would expect: talk about school problems, the illness of certain teachers and occasionally comments about books they had read or films they had seen. He scrutinized their faces as they sat together. He saw nothing. He was disappointed and told himself they were being cautious in public. Besides they were often with other teachers. What could they do?

But he would not give up the thought that he had seen them naked. True, he was drunk but he had seen them. The image of their naked bodies remained fixed in his mind. The only way he would know for sure, however, was to catch them in. the act.

At first he concentrated on Mara Blake's apartment, thinking that the chairman might go there. But she seldom did and the few times he did see her go upstairs, there was nothing he could do. He could hardly stand in the hall and peep through the keyhole to see if they were in bed together. It would have to be done at Ruth's house. The building had ample grounds around it and was sufficiently isolated. He would follow them there and find out what the hell was going on. One thing he knew for damned sure, he told himself. H those girls are screwing around, one or both of them were going to count him as part of the ongoing orgy.

The night he nearly collided with Mike, he had seen Mara stop in the English office when he had gone there to get some test papers. He pretended he was engrossed in the test questions but listened carefully. Mara moved up to Ruth's desk, smiled and asked questioningly "About nine?"

Ruth's voice though low pitched was petulant. "No, that's too late, make it earlier."

"But you'll be getting dress fittings anyhow," Mara said placatingly. "Why crowd yourself Ruth. We can-"

She stopped suddenly realizing that although Joe Mills was at a desk several feet away and had his nose buried in the test papers, he might possibly be listening.

"We'll go over your textbook suggestions when you can make it, Mara," Ruth suddenly said in a formal chairman of the English Department voice. "Don't make it too late, that's all, because I get to bed early and I have some reports to finish for the Modem Language Association seminar."

"Thank you, Ruth," Mara said gratefully and left quickly.

As she did she shot a suspicious glance at Joe who kept his head down. But he was laughing inwardly. Neither of the two women was much of an actress, he thought. It was so obvious that they were faking dialogue for his benefit. He was going to join them tonight as an uninvited guest, he told himself, and several hours later he did.

What he saw through the sliver of window made him feel very good and very excited. The two women were in each other's arms and kissing each other passionately, running their tongues in each other's mouths. Then they fell apart and lay on the bed side by side, their round breasts palpitating. He could see Ruth wipe her forehead with a towel and then motion to Mara to open the window. When Mara shook her head, Ruth, still naked, got up and did it herself. So quickly did she move that Joe Mills had barely time to get out of the way.

"Whew, it's stifling in here," Ruth said. "I'm all sweated up because that bastard insisted on screwing me."

"Darling, close the window," Mara begged. "He may change his mind and come back!'

"Oh stop worrying, he won't come back. You made him feel like two cents, didn't you? Made it clear you didn't want him. That's it! It's over for him."

"I was really worried," Mara said. "All that stuff he taped about my pussy and yours and how we liked to eat each other."

"I know," Ruth said thoughtfully, as she cradled the younger woman's naked firm breasts against her own. "That's why I let the bastard screw me. It was enough to make me nauseous, him putting his stupid cock in me. I hated it. Loathed it. I was terrified he would squeal on us. Thank goodness we were careful at that picnic."

"You shouldn't have made love to me there, Ruth." Mara said softly. "It was too risky. Much too risky."

"I know. I just couldn't help myself, baby. I had this fantastic desire to kiss your cunt, to smell its perfumed lovely scent mixed with your flesh. I nearly came watching you by the tables. And also I hated the fact that those dirty men were looking at you like that."

Ruth bent down and sucked Mara's vulva passionately. Joe watched the Eurasian girl's eyes close as she experienced the full sexual pleasure afforded by Ruth's expert tongue.

"Oh Lord, you are wonderful, dearest Ruth, you are," Mara said. "I love it when you put your tongue between the lips like that and tickle my clitoris. It is almost as if you were playing music, performing an arpeggio on the strings of my genitals."

Ruth laughed. "How marvelously poetic, darling!" she cried. "I thank you from the bottom of my heart for the compliment. But the truth, darling, is that I love to lick your gorgeous pussy because I am horny as hell. When I was a teen-ager in camp, I went down on my roommate, the captain of the school hockey team, eighteen times in one weekend. How do you like that?"

"Maybe you ought to send it to the Guinness people and have them put it in their book of records dear," Mara said jokingly.

"Great idea," Ruth agreed. "Only I'm sure they'd ask for proof and that might be rather inconvenient to furnish, don't you think, dear?"

The two girls broke into gales of laughter at the idea, and outside at their window, Joe Mills laughed with them. He was still laughing when he showed up at Mara Blake's apartment the next afternoon.

Half an hour after Mara arrived, Joel Mills showed up with a box of chocolate candies and knocked. There was no reply so he knocked again. He knew Mara was home because he had followed her home. And after waiting long enough to make sure that no one else was coming to meet her, he went upstairs. When the third knock produced no response, he rang the doorbell.

"I'm in the shower, darling. You're very early," he heard Mara Blake sing out gaily. "Door's open for you."

A moment later as she emerged from the bathroom drying her naked body with a large Turkish towel, her eyes widened with astonishment as they saw Joe Mills standing in her living room.