Sally found a reserve of energy she didn't know was in her and leapt to her feet in front of her obscenely sprawled lover.
"Angie! What… how… Angie, please don't be angry, honey! This doesn't mean I don't love…" Hot tears sprang to the lovely brunette's eyes.
"I know. I know," Angie replied sarcastically, the coldness of her voice masking the confused hubbub of emotions inside her. "This doesn't mean you don't love me at least as much as you love any old pick-up in town. I bet I'm right near the top of your list of 'favorite fucks I have known'."
Overwhelmed by a horrible need to give way to tears, she set up her old escape mechanism of replacing self-pity with rage.
"You disgust me," she told the trembling Sally, getting a sadistic pleasure out of the obvious pain she was inflicting with her words.
"Hey, what is this?" Frank asked Sally at last. "Don't tell me you're a fucking lesbian, honey!" The taunting edge in his voice threw Angie into a more intense rage.
"You keep your fucking mouth shut, creep!" she told the handsome blond, giving him a murderous look. "When we need shit-ass comments from you, I'll ask for them."
Frank suddenly found himself subdued into a surly silence.
"Angie, please understand!" Sally wailed, the tears streaming down her face now. "I love you. This was only a lark. You like to go to movies by yourself, so I like to fuck good-looking guys occasionally. It doesn't mean a thing!"
Angie almost felt herself relenting. She decided she had better leave before she let her heart rule her head.
"I don't know, Sally. I thought being with you would be different from being with some guy. Now I don't know. I'll have to think about it. I'm going to go away for a while. Maybe I'll come back; maybe I won't."
With that, a renegade tear hovering on the brim of one lash, Angie turned and fled the room.
"Angie!" Sally called after her friend, but she knew it was useless. She would simply have to wait and hope the other woman could learn to understand her little weaknesses. She knew she could never learn to be good always. It just wasn't in her.
"Well, I guess I'd better be going," Frank muttered as he rose to his feet and began to rummage for his clothes.
Sally walked over to where he was standing and drew one of his hands to her dripping cunt.
"What's your hurry?" she asked, still struggling with one wrist to wipe the tears from her eyes. "I'm going to be needing some company tonight, and I don't want to have to go back to that awful bar."
"Why, baby," he said with a scornful little grin, "you are really something else. Sure, I'll stay. A piece of ass like you doesn't come along every day." Then he jammed one finger almost cruelly up into her seeping cunt-hole, a smile of grim satisfaction contorting his features as he watched her face again light up with lust.
CHAPTER FIVE
The first thing Angie did when she left the house and the ugly scene with Sally behind her was drive to the nearest liquor store and pick up a bottle of gin and a six-pack of tonic. She then drove until she was a couple of hours out of town, found herself a motel and drank herself into a drunken stupor. She knew it was the only way she would ever sleep that night, and it worked… at least until about four in the morning when she woke up with a headache and a heartache to match.
Her recent relationship with Sally was as close as Angie had let another human being come to her in many years. She had learned early to mistrust her own emotions and the intentions of others. At last she had felt she'd met someone who really cared about her and the relationship they shared. Now she realized she'd been smacked in the face again. Sally was just as shallow as everyone else. The only thing she was interested in was her own petty pleasure. She had never cared about Angie.
The unhappy blonde checked out of the motel and got into her car, heading east on the highway once again without any specific course or destination in mind. For a couple of hours she could think of nothing but how Sally had looked humping up and down over that stranger's prick, her face beautiful in her wild, lustful preoccupation with her own pleasure.
How could she do it to me? How could she do it to me? Angie asked herself over and over again. And the best answer she could come up with was: she didn't care. She never cared about me.
Lost as she was in the fantasies of her grief. Angie was still aware enough somewhere in the back of her mind to realize that her answer was not good enough. Thinking back to the good times the three of them had shared recently, she knew Sally was not actress enough to pretend that kind of intense emotion over so long a period. She had cared. After all, they had been close friends for a long time before becoming lovers. It wasn't as though Sally had struck up the sexual relationship just to use her. It had come as a natural evolution of a close and warm friendship.
So why had she hurt Angie like that then? There must be an aspect to Sally's character that she simply hadn't had a chance to investigate yet. Maybe she just couldn't give up men. Maybe she just wasn't getting enough sexual gratification from her involvement with Saxon and herself.
From time to time Angie let the tears roll down her cheeks unchecked as she drove into the approaching dawn, her mind numb, her body rigid with tension and fear. Should she leave Sally? Could she bear to live without that closeness and wild sex again now that she had had a chance to experience it? But on the other hand, could she let herself be treated so brutally, so heartlessly? It had been years since Angie had really let herself cry. But this morning the tears flowed hot and heavy, the full brunt of years of pent-up emotions breaking loose all at once.
It was full daylight now, and Angie began to feel more cheerful despite herself. She found her mind wandering from the horror aspects of what she had seen last night to the erotic aspects.
Angie had almost forgotten what men's cocks were like, so long now had she been used to a steady diet of dog-cock. The stranger's prick had looked very thick and very long and very hard as it pumped wetly in and out of Sally's slick, welcoming cunt.
Angie began to feel a little tingle of moisture down between her own legs as she pictured the rhythmic fucking on the chair, Sally's pretty little pussy sliding up and down, up and down over the man's hard, ready, spearlike cock. Almost as though in a daze, Angie let her hand slip down to her crotch and begin to prod at the hem of her shorts, seeking out her puffy gash.
"Oh, Angie, for Pete's sake, stop it!" she told herself sharply as she forcibly drew her hand back to the steering wheel. "Can't you take anything seriously?" she chided her sensual self even as she broke into a little grin.
She was beginning to see the humor of the whole situation. Of herself pretending such grief and despair, yet at the same time trying to cool down the incredible tingling in her wet, horny cunt. She was beginning to feel stronger inside, less shattered by Sally's betrayal. She realized that if she could still feel horny at a time like this, all was not lost.
The beautiful sunny day was doing wonders for Angie's disposition, as well as the heady freedom of driving down the highway with no particular place to go right in the middle of the week. She had never run off from her responsibilities like this before, and she was enjoying the rush of excitement that was now pumping through her veins. Anything could happen. And she was ready for anything. Sure, her job would probably be gone when she got back, but she could always get another. Today she wasn't going to worry about anything. Just go where the feeling took her, and do what the feeling demanded. And the first thing she was going to do was stop for some breakfast. She was starving.
Angie stopped at a pleasant-looking family restaurant and ordered scrambled eggs, bacon, toast and coffee. As she waited for her order to arrive, she noticed a handsome-looking young man with shoulder-length, sun-bleached hair sitting at the counter drinking a cup of coffee. He was dressed in jeans and faded denim shirt, and a small knapsack rested against the base of the counter under him.