"Melanie!" Tim called out gruffly. "C'mon."
"Oh, I better be going," she said nervously, catching the impatient look in her husband's eyes. "Goodnight, Amos? And…"
"Syble. Do call me Syble."
"And Syble. I'll be here at seven tomorrow night!"
"Be looking forward to it, my dear," Amos said genially and shook her hand.
Melanie hurried back to her husband, biting her lower lip with apprehension and embarrassment. She appreciated the way Amos Andersson had not acted as if anything was amiss, though it must have been clear as crystal that there was; and he had been a gentleman the whole time, rather than acting like a complete idiot as Tim was doing. A deep sense of shame still pervaded her entire being at the way Tim had been touching her so intimately only a few short minutes before, and the way he was fidgeting around now as though he were some stud bull unable to behave like a civilized man. She had no desire to say another word to him, and she just hoped that they would get out of here and home before something worse occurred. At least at home whatever happened would be privately between just them…
Behind them, and out of range of their hearing, Amos and Syble Andersson stood in the deserted lobby, admiring the young couple as they left the theater. Amos turned to his curvaceous wife, a sly little grin forming on his lips. "I," he said lewdly, "am going to fuck that sweet girl."
"Amos, you're out of your mind," Syble chided. "I don't think you can con her into our bed short of raping her. She's too young and naive, and only been married for a couple of years."
"Sure, but did you catch that idiot she has for a husband?" Amos chuckled suavely, patting his wife fondly on one firm buttock. "Melanie's the kind who, when they fall, fall hard. It'll be fun trying anyway, even if we don't succeed."
"We?" Syble asked with a glimmer in her bright eyes.
"Damned right. You, my love, are going to help me not only get that girl, but mow her all the way down until she's ready to be made a star."
"Ahhh, a new actress for our pictures!"
"We've many lovely creatures for our shows, but the ones past twenty are all so common looking." Amos Andersson sighed appreciatively.
"But that little bitch… ahh, she could make us a fortune!"
"And you've got a plan… for us!"
"Uh-huh, but I'm not going to tell you until we get home. Show's about due to end, and anyway, it'll do you good to wait for the details."
"Why, you horrid tease! I think you're making this all up!"
Amos laughed heartily, noting the anticipatory smirk on his lovely wife's face. "Nope, I've got a plan, all right. And my dear… when have you ever known me to fail?"
"Never," she had to admit, smiling. "Not even once…"
CHAPTER TWO
Tim Cartwright drove with the car window rolled all the way down, the cool night breeze ineffectual against the swirling heat of his inebriation. The drinks he'd had only a couple of hours ago were headier than ever in his bloodstream, and were making his already maddened emotions a hazy blur. He glanced savagely at his lovely blonde wife who was sitting far over against the door, and the sight of her demure, righteous expression enraged him all the more. She hadn't talked to him since she'd demanded to leave the movie, and that was just fine by him!
Some hot piece of ass he'd married! Out of bed Melanie demanded all the little things involved with a story-book romance, with her teasing and suggestive remarks and her provocative come-hither looks. But she was all sham as far as he'd been able to determine in two years of bedding her; all sugar-coated icing on a flat, stale cake.
Goddamn Melanie! He loved her very much, and he'd be deliriously happy if only she was a woman, a red-blooded female who wanted him physically. His cock and balls were aching for the loving caress of a sensual wife, but all he'd been able to expect from her was the responsiveness of a pound of calf's liver. He often pictured the ideal situation with Melanie mewling and moaning with pleasure as he made love to her in a hundred different ways, and she in turn writhing and sucking and kissing him with unquenchable lust just like that little teen-age bitch had been doing in the sex movie. He could almost feel the creamy secretions of her nakedly hungry cunt as she whispered his name in pleading supplication, and he groaned as he drove, gripping the wheel tightly, knowing all too well that her pussy was as dry and arid of moist desire as the Sahara Desert in summer.
Goddamn it! This was the last night before he went away to New York City for God only knew how long. He had to have her! He had to and no question about it! He was going to fuck the shit out of his young wife tonight whether she liked it or not, come hell or high water!
Tim drove more recklessly than was usual after he'd been drinking, his lewd and obscene desires firing his liquored brain until he was unable to think of anything except Melanie stretched out naked on their large double bed. Christ I'm drunker than I thought! he told himself, but he didn't care… he didn't care about anything except fucking!
They entered the quiet residential street on which their apartment house was built, the car tires screaming as he suddenly braked in the parking lot beside the red brick building. Still without a word between them, Melanie and Tim, both tight-lipped, took the elevator to their sixth-floor apartment. Melanie stood to one side and tapped her foot with irritation as Tim fumbled with the key to the locked door.
Inside the sparsely furnished living room, Tim drew his wife to him with an abruptness which surprised her. Her wetly parted lips were smothered as he pressed his mouth hotly to her. She felt herself go rigid as the warm quivering eagerness of his tongue bid for entry into her mouth, and then she gently pushed free of him.
"I… I'll make some coffee," she offered in a gasping voice.
"I don't want any damned coffee," he snarled down at her. "I want a drink."
"But…"
"A drink, damn it! Can't I have a drink in my own fucking house?"
Melanie cringed from his yelling voice, turning around so that he couldn't see the tears forming in her eyes again. The evening was ruined. Their last few moments together, and it was ending in bitter and hateful quarreling. She took off her coat slowly, and then almost fearfully, she said timidly, "Are… Are you coming to bed, Tim?"
"Damned right I am, baby," he grinned with drunken lewdness at her. "Soon as I pour myself a drink. You go get yourself all ready for lover-boy. Because he's rarin' to go tonight!"
He watched her slump off in the direction of their bedroom, and then with a disdainful grunt, he stalked to the cabinet where the bourbon was kept. He didn't bother to find a glass, but unscrewed the cap and tilted the glass neck directly to his mouth. The hot liquor burned all the way down to her stomach, making Tim feel slightly nauseous for a moment. He staggered to an easy chair and sagged down in it, lifting the bottle up to take a yet greater swallow. A few seconds later he was rewarded by a lightheadedness that swirled heatedly through his blood, and he raised the bourbon still again to take more of the soul-inflaming alcohol.
His long, hardened penis was bent mercilessly in his pants, and he could tell that he was oozing seminal fluid from its passion-throbbing blunt tip, soaking into a wet stain in his white underpants. Never had he felt so hot and intensely aroused, the combination of the drinking and the lust-arousing SINFUL STUDENTS film boiling in his mind with ever-intensifying desire. The pain in his doubled-up cock was now excruciating to him, and with the desperation of the drunken man he was, Tim reached down and fumbled for the fly of his trousers. The zipper protested, because the sitting position he was in made for awkward maneuvering even for a sober person, but slowly he was able to lower it until his white underpants bulged through the narrow opening.