Thirty - Jill Emerson [53]
“All right.” I had, at this point, the feeling that she might want to recruit me for her pimp. I had had such suggestions before from girls. I had invented a pimp of my own, a West Indian spade named Mickey with a huge knife scar on his cheek, but very gentle deep down inside. After I spoke of him once or twice I almost came to believe in him.
But what she said was, “I have this John, don’t stare but he’s the third stool from the left end, the one with God-help-us-all a straw hat. You see him?”
I did. An inoffensive little man with wire-rimmed glasses and a quizzical smile. He looked like somebody’s uncle, a bank vice-president or a retired druggist or something.
“He likes two girls at once. You know the scene?”
“Uh-huh.”
“There are two girls I can ask to split a trick like this with me, and they’re neither of them around. I thought it wouldn’t hurt me to ask. It’s fifty each. He wants a real party, but it’s fifty each.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I don’t know if you ever made a scene like this—”
“I did. But never as, you know, as a trick.”
“You mean for kicks?”
“More or less.”
“Like you dig it both ways?”
“Well—”
“That makes it easier. Me, too, matter of fact. But a lot of girls don’t. Matter of taste.”
“Literally.”
“Huh? Oh, right, I dig. You’re a funny girl, you know that? You say one word to my thirty, but you’re funny. You’ve just been around recent. New in town?”
“In a way.”
“New in business, then. Well, that’s cool. You want to make half a bill? I’ve tricked him before, his name is Claude, he’s really a lamb. He’s no trouble at all.”
We gave the lamb his money’s worth. He was a sly old bastard, all right. He had a whole script worked out. It went this way—first he would hide in the closet, then Liz and I would neck and pet and one of us would go down on the other while he watched. Then he would come out and surprise us, and we would beg him to keep our secret, and finally we would bribe him with our bodies. The phrase, believe it, was his.
So we did. It was kind of fun, in the way that agreeable tricks are fun. It wasn’t real because those things never can be. And working from a script that way. The beginning was nothing but stagey, the kissing and petting and undressing. I felt foolish, and didn’t even get any enjoyment out of the fact that it was a kinky scene. Sometimes I can dig kinkiness in and of itself, but this time nothing.
Liz gave me a good tonguing. She could have faked it easily enough and the lamb would not have known the difference. Unless he asked to smell her breath afterward or something. She could have just come close and he would have had the same trip, but either she felt it was easier to do it than to fake it or else she was enough in the mood to want to, because she really gave me the treatment.
A funny bit—I remember lying there giving a real Oscar-winning performance of a girl torn with passion, and what was going through my mind was the thought that this was really a great muffing I was getting, and wasn’t it a shame I couldn’t turn on to it and enjoy it? But I couldn’t. It just wasn’t sex, it was a performance, and I was too busy playing a part to feel anything. I think she could have done it forever without really getting to me in any substantial way.
Of course after enough time had gone by I managed to have a nice theatrical orgasm for Lamb’s benefit, and he came storming out of the closet, and we all played our parts the way we were supposed to. He made us lie down side by side on the bed while he inspected us in turn, holding our labia apart and looking inside, even sniffing inside, rolling us over, looking between the checks of our asses.
Liz said later it was like being searched for a heroin stash by a police matron.
Finally, after he had done all of his little things, and after we each gave him a little hand-and-mouth action, he screwed me while Liz gave him a rim job.
He had a surprisingly large cock. I have to get out of the habit of expecting that large men will have large ones and vice versa, or that sexy men will be well hung while nebbishy shrimps will be small and