“It was my pleasure. Now, if you don’t mind, do you have the yen, good sir?”
“Do I ever!” Bix looked at Penny and licked his chops. “I am sorry. You misunderstand, dear sir,” Dr. Asutra told him. “It is my fault. One of my grandfathers was Nipponese.”
“Nipponese?” Penny said curiously, happening to stretch as she said it so that her coat fell open and revealed her full shimmering white breasts with their shimmering red tips shimmering in the shimmering breeze of the shimmering night air.
“I’d be delighted,” Kim Asutra replied somewhat less than inscrutability.
“No,” Penny blushed. “I meant-—”
“Ah, so-o-o! I believe I perceive what you meant, dear girl. Yes, one of my grandfathers was Japanese and occasionally I fall into the use of Japanese words. As when I mentioned yen before; I really meant to humbly request my fee ”
“Sure enough,” Bix told him. “You’ve earned it. What do I owe you?”
“Ten dollars.”
Bix paid him and Dr. Kim Asutra bowed his way out the door.
When they were alone, Bix turned to Penny with the look of a vegetarian about to pounce on a head of lettuce. She looked back at him like mayonnaise—soft and white and quivery—all atremble to be spread on bed. She dropped her mink and stood there naked and eager. A moment later he embraced her and they fell to the floor, a passionate sandwich stuck together by their passion.
Bix kissed her ears, her shoulders, her neck, her breasts. Bix kissed her breasts, her neck, her shoulders, her ears. Bix kissed her neck, her breasts, her shoulders, her ears. Bix kissed her shoulders, her ears, her breasts, her neck.
“Don’t stop!” Penny told him. “Go on. Kiss my ears, my neck, my breasts, my shoulders!”
“You mean kiss your breasts, your ears, your shoulders, your neck?” Bix murmured meaningfully. “Like this?” he asked insinuatingly, etcetera-ing the process.
“Yes,” Penny sighed. “Oh, yes-yes-yes.” She grasped him by the neck to pull his questing lips to hers.
He pulled away.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“That’s so bourgeois!” he explained. “Only middle-class husbands making love to their middle-class wives in their middle-class beds kiss on the lips. Dig?”
“I’m sorry I tried it,” Penny said contritely. “Please go back to what you were doing. I’ll try not to be square again.”
“It’s okay.” Bix was magnanimous. He went back to kissing her ears, her neck, her shoulders, her breasts.
After a while this began to bore Penny. Her precious little cream tube was all afroth with eagerness and the little red jellybean perched atop it was stretching avidly for the nip of love. She wished Bix would knock off his pre-coital lipping and get down to the business which wasn’t as yet even at hand. Penny stretched and accidentally raked his back with her nails. That proved to be the goad he needed.
He picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. He tossed her down on the bed and she lay there twitching, naked and hot. Now his hand stroked her delicately curved white belly. It reached lower and the fingers tangled in the dew-tipped softness of the golden down framing her jelly-jar. It made contact with her tiny, rigid peppermint stick and Penny writhed briefly. Then, quickly, her body rose, her hips arched and her buttocks heaved and spasm after spasm of joy swept over her. Bix experimented and found that his merest touch was enough to set her off again. He paused a moment to consider it coolly, clitorally and decided that his wrist muscles would undoubtedly give out before she grew weary of multiplying her orgasms.
The time, Bix decided, was now. The matter at hand was ready for the attention of an even more energetic member. He stretched out beside Penny on the bed. He removed his hand from the entrance to her gyrating jam-jug. He swung his body over her lush, young, palpitating torso. A gentleman at heart, he poised a moment to distribute his weight on his elbows.
This slight pause gave Penny an instant to appreciate that at last she was about to hear the “liquid sounds of love-making.” Finally, her body was about to “burn with passion.” She sniffed, anticipating “the sweet aroma of animal desire,” hoping her nostrils wouldn’t let her down, hoping they would indeed dilate at the proper moment.
And now that moment was here! Bix, pure animal, determined as a ram this lamb beneath him, drew back, upward, tensed a moment, and then plunged to- wards Penny’s lanolin tube with all his might.
His ramrod never reached its mark. And the scream marking his failure sent the dogs huddled on Houston Street baying like lemmings toward the sweet surcease of terror to be found at the bottom of the East River.
Penny had anticipated pain, but hers, not his. Now she was appalled and frightened at the agonized mass of flesh her lover had so suddenly—and inopportunely— become. “What it is?” she asked. “What’s the matter? What happened?”
“I don’t know,” he managed to answer through clenched teeth. “I must have thrown something out of whack in my spine.” He tried to move and the sudden pain made him bite through his lip. “I can’t budge!” he groaned. “It must be from something that damn chiropractor did to me.”
“I’d better get him back,” Penny decided. “I’ll call him.” She went into the other room to telephone. “He’s coming right over,” she told Bix when she returned. “Do you think you could manage to shift to a less revealing position before he gets here?”
“What do you mean?” he moaned.
“Well, with your posterior stuck up in the’ air that way and your pelvis thrusting downward with that tell-tale stiffness and being on your elbows and all, he’s sure to know what we were doing. It’s embarrassing.”
“Sorry. I can’t budge,” Bix groaned.
“Well, could you at least manage to lose your—umm —you-know-what.”
“What do you mean lose my you-know-what? I’ve had my you-know-what all my life. I admit it hasn’t been much use to me tonight. But you never can tell. There’s always the chance that a man’s you-know-what might come in handy. I certainly don’t want to lose it!”
“I didn’t mean lose it that way. I meant calm it down —uhh, maybe shrink it or something. Just so it isn’t so obscenely prominent.”
“It doesn’t seem to want to cooperate,” Bix observed. “And the pain I’m in, I really couldn’t be less concerned about it. Hell, I’m stiff all over. Why not there?”
Before Penny could answer, the doorbell rang. She answered it and returned once again with Dr. Kim Asutra, the chiropractor, following behind. “Greetings, Mr. Bittervetch,” the Chinese said. “Have your bones been acting up?”
“The shape I’m in, that remark is a boner,” Bix told the Chinese bone-checker. “The slightest attempt to get out of this ridiculous position brings on the most indescribable agony.”
“I see. And tell me, however did you manage to get into such a peculiar position?”
Penny blushed and turned away.
“I was doing pushups.” Such was Bix’s inspired answer.
“I see.” Dr. Asutra inscrutably scrutinized him. “Are you sure,” he asked in his best Sidney Toler deadpan manner, “that you weren’t attempting to pole-vault?”
“Thanks for the compliment, Doctor, but would you please cut the jabber and do something for me. My elbows are getting tired.”
“There’s not much I can do,” Dr. Kim Asutra admitted upon examining Bix more closely. “You’ve slipped a disc in your spine in a most unusual manner. All I can do is get you into a more comfortable position. After that, you’ll have to lie absolutely still for at least a week.” He maneuvered Bix over on his back. “Now, dear sir, stay that way. You will find that if you try to move the pain will be most severe.”