Linda went tense and turned her eyes away. "That was uncalled for, Darlene. It's simply that we've always had someone here all night, and… I'd feel safer if we continued that policy."
"Oh well, it shouldn't be too difficult to find a night-nurse for the kids, someone to take over after I go home…"
Linda glared at her, wanting to tell her what an outrageous demand this was. Then her eyes trailed downward to the voluptuous pout of girlish bosom, and up again to the full, red mouth. And Linda remembered all the artful graces of this girl, and smiled. "A night-nurse. Of course! Why didn't I think of that?" Then she gazed at the full-sized bed. "It would have been a pity to let all that comfort go to waste."
Darlene's eyes followed hers to the bed. "Oh no, darlin', that's not goin' to waste. In fact, it'll be gettin' double-duty, if you know what I mean."
Linda met her eyes, and felt a sudden chilling tremor about the thighs. "No, Darlene, I… I don't know what you mean."
Darlene edged her body forward until the two women touched at their most bosomly points, the girl's voice low, furtive… "In the early afternoon, when Janice and Larry are still in school and the babies are having their nap… think of it, Linda-between one and three in the sunshiny daylight. Us. Here. Ballin' ourselves silly five times a week…!"
Trembling, Linda had to grip the girl's hand to steady herself.
When David met Darlene later, he heartily approved: "She looks like just the girl to get things done around here, darling. She's so young and energetic, I'm sure it'll take a load off your mind just having her here…"
David now saw his house as a well-staffed, rock-bound citadel of decorum, and with Linda nailed safely to the cross of her transgressions, he was ready to investigate some untapped variations of the double standard.
Valerie again. Never very far from his mind, that elegant instigator, his lady of the sewage. Valerie, who had led him to the others. God, what a chorus-line, dancing and dangling and beckoning in the dreams of him, the moist nocturnal fancies… voices and tongues thick with gloating sex-entendre… daring him, jeering… And she was the crux.
He couldn't remember how long he'd been carrying the slip of paper in his wallet… the phone-number, the combination of digits that would whirl him into orbit once more. Umm!.. But newly now, more deeply astray than ever. The notorious choice.
Luscious pimp-body Valerie and her nefarious wheel-of-fortune, spinning him towards this destiny…
It was during his lunch-hour one day that David finally decided to make the call. He stole secretively to a distant phone-booth on Market Street, nervous and oh fire again with the threat of danger, the adventure of desire. He pulled out the long torn portion of The Gash Gazette, running his finger down the line of ads, canceling out one, then another. At last his eyes reached the ad he knew he'd been born to answer: "Active Male Stud-Well Endowed-Tall and Tan and Hung and Versatile-Available for Straight, Bi, and Gay Guys and Gals-24-hour service."
Shakily, David dialed the number, his blood pounding in his veins… (oh be still my heart!)… A husky male voice answered. "I saw your ad in the Gazette," David began.
"Yes, Sir, what's your pleasure?"
David began to perspire, and he knew he was stammering and felt ridiculous. "Are you… uh… busy this Saturday afternoon?"
"No. I could handle you at two on Saturday."
… Handle me!.. thought David, summoning up the tremulous pictures, the rough wet grabs. The boy gave him his address. David gave him a name. "How much do you charge?"
"Twenty an hour."
"You're not affiliated, are you?"
"Huh?"
"I mean, are you free-lance, or does someone manage you?"
A low, rueful laugh. "Nobody manages me, baby. I fly alone…"
… Baby he calls me!.. thought David… oooh!.. basso profundo calling me baby…!
"You're everything you advertise, aren't you?"
"Like what?"
"It says here that you're… well-endowed, which also means that you can produce when called up, if you follow me…"
"Eight and a half inches, baby, and I produce every time somebody touches me."
David let out a deep sigh, then waited until his breath came regularly. "Great. You sound like just what I've had in mind for weeks. I'll see you on Saturday. And if you… uh… show promise,"… clumsy attempt at humor here… "I'll take from you on a steady basis…"
"Aw man, that'd be cool, baby. I'll see ya Saturday!"
David's wheel of fortune was at last rolling in the right astral direction. New homes away from home opened wide their doors to him…
Brad Grogan put in a similar phone-call that week, a clutch of desperation. Down on his luck and needing money, he now found a readymade dream in his future. Quite by accident.
One night, when he was feeling particularly lonely and desolate, he resorted to his half-forgotten computer-list for the first time in months. There was only one untried name left on the sheet, and what fond memories he had of the others, having sapped each of them dry in his own inimitable style.
He dialed the number. A woman answered, and her voice was so beautiful and cultured, he could listen to her talk for hours. Oooh, I hooked a lady-type this time, he thought, and they're the ones who really crawl for it… So here goes another notch in my nuts… one more pussy-slave to squat, swallow, spit-up and forget…
"Could we possibly meet and have coffee?" he asked, in his lowest, sexiest tones.
"I think it could be arranged," said the girl. "Although I have a particular fondness for Irish coffee. What's your name, by the way?"
He told her, and noticed now that the girl had a slight lisp.
"And I'm Valerie Hudson," she said. "Why don't we meet at the Buena Casa? I know it's always terribly packed in that place, but I like to see how a man stands out in a crowd."
… Va va voom!.. oh, I'll stand out for you, all right…!
"Great," he said. "But… how will I know you?"
"I'm five-one, with silver blonde hair and very long fingers. Now, what do you look like, Brad?"
"I'm six-four, 185 pounds, and very long… uh… lashes!"
"Well now!" said Valerie, already charting out his price-tags and performance-schedules. "You sound real promising. Big husky guys like you make me feel so lost and defenseless…"
"Hold that thought!" he laughed. "I'll see you at one!"
When they met the crowd threw them together, and they stood very close, Valerie reaching out to give him her usual thumb-sampling sea! of approval… "Ooh my goodness, Brad!" she lisped. "Have you ever been a I model?"
"Hell yes!" he lied. "Can't you tell by the way I pose?"
Two days later Brad was punching in at Valerie's place, daily. New job, new ass, new tomorrow…
As for Mr. and Mrs. David Fortune of Hillsborough, the cool machinery of their lives never ceased to function. The habit-structure of marriage stayed the same for them, and they never quarreled and still were buddies. Now that they'd been properly mated they had a solid future together. Sexual security. The dearest. Ask any anthropologist.