Chapter 19: Gladys, Sheila, Gladys

Gladys wanted to stay in my room and I let her. I didn't know if she was afraid of Charlie or if it was for the reason she gave; she liked the way I fucked.

"Did you mean what you said about my tits?" she asked, snuggling against me so I could feel her nipples bore into my chest.

"Yes."

"Charlie never says nice things to me the way you do."

"I know."

"You're sweet. But, God Damn, you can be mean, too!"

"I know."

"You're not generally like that, are you?"

Remembering what Marcie had said, 'you're in a funky mood because Becky wasn't at the wedding', "I went to a wedding and everything went wrong. On the way home I decided to fuck everything with two legs and a pussy."

She giggled. "I have two legs and a pussy."

"Yes, you do."

She lifted her head to kiss me on the chin and I felt her bush tickle my thigh. "Would you like to play with them?"

I rolled her onto her back and took one of her nipples into my mouth. She put her hand on the back of my head. "Damn, I could play with these all night. Please don't take this the wrong way, but have you had them done?"

She giggled. "No."

I felt her breasts, marveled at how firm they were and rolled the nipples between my fingers. "Who was the first boy you let play with them?"

Gladys didn't answer and I was concerned that I had offended her. "Don't stop," she said when I pulled my head away. I resumed rolling her nipples and heard her sigh.

"It was my brother."

"How old were you?"

"Thirteen."

"How old was your brother?"

"He's a year older than me."

"Does he still play with them?"

She shoved me away and turned over on her side. "You are such a bastard."

"I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry."

"Why did you insist on using the rubber? Do you think I'm a slut?"

"Not at all, I just like playing it safe."

"Well, I'm not. I'm on the pill and I'm clean."

"You have great tits, too."

She giggled and turned back to me, wanting to kiss. I felt myself getting hard. She felt it too. "Are you really going to fuck everything with two legs and a pussy?"

"No, there's a little jail-bait that I had on my list, but I believe I'll pass on her."

"You made a list?"

"Sometimes I make lists. I made this one while flying home from a disappointing weekend."

"Was I on your list?"

"Yes."

"You planned to fuck me when you were on a plane?"

"Yes."

"How high were you?"

"Thirty thousand feet."

"Wow, I made your list at thirty thousand feet."

I felt her body shake and knew she was having fun with me. "It was the altitude. You probably wouldn't have made it at twenty-five thousand."

"Is Charlie's mother on the list?"

"Yes."

"Who else?"

"Loretta and Karen, they're from back home. I'm going to nail them when I go home for Thanksgiving."

"Who else?"

"There's only one more. I'm not sure about her."

"Why not?"

"Marcie's my best friend in the whole world. I'm afraid that ... well ... I'm just not sure it would be a good idea."

"Thanksgiving is a month off."

"True."

"And ... Charlie's mother is coming next weekend."

"Right."

"Soooo, if you don't hook up with jail-bait, that leaves ... three weeks free, doesn't it?"

"Not really, I've got to save my strength for Thanksgiving week."

Gladys shifted her weight, accidentally bumping into my cock. "You don't need three weeks to get ready for Loretta and Karen."

"What are you suggesting?"

"I was just thinking."

"Yes?"

"Are you going to land your plane on my runway again tonight?"

"I may 'buzz' your runway and wind up in the drink."

She giggled. "Not with a rubber, okay?"

"Okay."

"How do you want me?"

"We'll start with you on top. I may flip you later."

"Okay," she said, lifting one leg to straddle me. "Don't pull out when you flip me. I hate that."

"Buzz," she said as she inserted my cock and eased down. "Thanks for telling me about your list. It makes me feel special," she said as she began moving. She thanked me again when I flipped her without pulling out. When I woke up the next morning she was gone.

The next day I got word that Alice had given birth to a son. Brenda wrote, 'He cries all the time and makes messes in his diaper. Mom says it's too soon to teach him how to walk'. She didn't say what her baby brother's name was.

I concentrated on my studies. The beginner's drafting class I was taking was like child's play compared to the blueprints I had been exposed to over the summer. We were studying American authors in the first quarter, short story portion of the Literature class I was taking, and although I had read most of them, Mrs. Edison made the class interesting by supplying little tidbits about the lives and times of the authors.

The other classes I was taking, Philosophy 101, Business Law and History from 1500 to Present, were new to me and kept my interest. I was bent on doing well on the quarterfinals. But first, I had Sheila's visit to look forward to. I told Kent that I was going to be out of town for the second week in a row. From the look he gave me, I don't think he believed me.

Charlie was making himself scarce. I took many of my meals in the school cafeteria and let him fend for himself. He never complained. Hell, he had a good thing going. I'm sure he looked upon me as his sugar daddy. One word from me would have stopped his flow of cash from Cyril.

On Wednesday I woke to find a scantily-clad woman in the bathroom. I recognized her from school and knew she was a senior. Charlie seemed to have developed a preference for women old enough to legally purchase liquor. On Thursday morning, she smiled and introduced herself. "I'm Marilyn. I hope my car is not in anyone's space."

I assured her that it didn't matter where she parked, thinking, ah, she has a car, so much the better.

A major error reared its ugly head on Friday afternoon when I realized that we hadn't discussed how I would find Sheila. I told her to get a room and I would come to the hotel at four P.M. Thinking she may have left a note on the car with her room number, I stopped by the hotel garage and didn't see the BMW. It was ten past four and panic was taking over my thinking.

To complicate matters, I didn't remember ever hearing Cyril's last name. Would she register under Evans? No, her credit cards would be in her married name. Where would Charlie be this time of day? He would know his mother's name.

Remembering that most of the desk clerks were students at the college, I decided to give one of them Sheila's description and ask which room she was in.

On my way to the lobby, I practiced what I would say: "My friend's mom checked in and he sent me to let her know he's going to be late. She's about so tall, beautiful blond with, let's see, about a thirty-five inch bust, mind you, I've only seen her once or twice, but you would remember her, did I say she's beautiful?"

"What's her name?" I imagined the desk clerk asking.

"Her name is Sheila ... ah ... something."

"What's your friend's name?"

"Charlie."

"Charlie what?"

"Oh, I see where this is going. You don't believe me, do you? You think I'm here to meet my friend's mother, have sex with her all weekend, order room service, break some of the furniture, make all kinds of noise and sneak out without settling the bill. I'll have you know that my friend's mother is respectable..."

"Sammy? I'm over here."

How did I miss her? Sheila was sitting off to the side, in full view of the front desk and everyone in the lobby. She was wearing slacks and a matching jacket, pale yellow, a green blouse and pearls. Her hair was on top of her head, held in place with combs. A man, probably a parent of a student, was seated at the other end of the settee. Sheila extended her hand. I took it and felt a piece of paper in her palm. "How have you been, Sammy? It's nice to see you again."

"Fine, I've been fine, Mrs..."

"It's Farina. You must remember?"

"Oh, yes, Charlie sent me to tell you that he's been detained, one of his classes is meeting late or something, Mrs. Farina."

We had successfully transferred the paper from her palm to mine. "Thank you for coming, Sammy. I knew it must be something like that. Charlie isn't one to stand his mother up."

I could see the man watching us out of the corner of his eye, paying more attention to Sheila than to me. "It was nice seeing you, Mrs. Farina," I said before walking swiftly to the sign that read 'rest rooms'. At the corner I looked back and saw the man say something to Sheila. She spoke to him and quickly walked toward the elevators.

The note read, 'room 626, walk up two flights of stairs and call for the elevator. If anyone else is on it, get off at the fifth floor and walk up the stairs'.

I followed her instructions, taking the stairs, elevator and stairs until I arrived at room 626. She opened the door, looked at the empty hallway and pulled me inside. She had removed the jacket and the pearl necklace.

"Why did you suggest this place? We can't go out in public."

I picked her up and threw her in the middle of the nearest bed. She landed laughing. I jumped on the bed next to her. "Cyril told me to fuck the bitchiness out of you and that's what I'm going to do."

Her expression was somber and there was sadness in her eyes. She reached for my hand. "I need to be loved, Sammy, not fucked."

Sheila gripped my hand and watched my reaction. This was not the same woman who had asked me to tell her how her son lost his cherry. This wasn't even the same woman who had undressed in the back seat of her husband's car and pulled me to her. I patted her hand and smiled, uncertain as to what I should do.

"What's becoming of me, Sammy?"

"What do you mean?"

"My husband doesn't mind that I'm meeting a very young man in a hotel. My son accepts that his mother is having sex with his friend and my ex-husband has abandoned me. I've lost the respect of my husband, my son and my ex-husband."

"I agree that your husband doesn't respect you and as you say, he's crude. How do you know Charlie doesn't respect you and what do you care about how his father feels about you?"

"Charlie phoned and told me to have a good time. He was almost jubilant that I'm having an affair with his friend."

"Shit! I shouldn't have told him."

"It's all right, Sammy. You did it with my permission," she said, moving into a sitting position and turning her back to me. I rose to my knees and cradled her in my arms. She held my hands and rested the weight of her back against my chest.

"He pushed me too far and I behaved badly," I said, nibbling her ear.

"I know, he told me." She was moving her head, pushing her neck into my lips, wanting to be nuzzled.

"Why do you care what Charles Senior thinks?"

She didn't answer and I thought she must be offended by the question. Her hands brought mine to the top button of her blouse and I had three buttons unbuttoned when she spoke.

"Charles is the only man I ever loved. I thought I would die when he walked out. Now he knows the mother of his son is screwing a young man half her age."

"Who told him?" I asked, pulling the bottom of her blouse out of the slacks.

"I don't know for sure. It may have been Charlie or Cyril," she said, lifting my hands to her head. I got the idea that she wanted me to remove the combs.

"What did the man in the lobby want?" I asked and felt her body shake.

There were four combs. I took my time, feeling the fine texture of her hair as it fell to her shoulders and beyond.

"He said he overheard you tell me Charlie had been detained and invited me to have dinner with him."

Sheila was smiling as she removed the blouse and set it aside. I touched her shoulders, feeling the smooth skin. Her arms were long and lean. I traced them, all the way to her fingers and back up to her neck. She leaned into me, fully relaxed.

"I knew it was something like that," I laughed and felt her body shake again.

"I told him that I was having dinner in my room with my son's friend," she said, turning her head. "Unhook my bra, please?" she asked before shaking her hair, vigorously.

It was a question, not a command. I found the fasteners and she let the small garment drop to her lap. I heard her shoes hit the floor and saw that she was removing her slacks.

"Did he know you were referring to me?"

"I told him," she said, nonchalantly raising her ass in order to pull her panties down.

"What did he say?" I asked, watching her lie back on the bed and get comfortable. She watched me looking at her naked body before replying.

"I left before he had a chance to say anything."

What she had said about needing to be loved ran through my mind, screaming.

"Would you like to hear what he said after you left?" I asked and watched her close her eyes. Her lips moved, slightly and there was movement in her long neck as she swallowed. I watched closely for a reaction and saw her nod.

For the next hour, Sheila lay naked with her eyes closed, listening to me speak as if I were the guy seated on the settee:

"What a vision of loveliness. She's obviously married and has her husband's permission to entertain that young man in her room. Watch her strut! She knows everyone in the lobby is watching her. Every male in the room has his tongue hanging out and every female is seething with envy.

"If I were not meeting my daughter for dinner I would intercede. She needs a real man, not the little coward she just sent to her room. Why is she wasting her time with the likes of him? Does he have any idea how lucky he is?"

Sheila's face twitched, concealing a smile.

"If my daughter was not due to arrive at any moment, I would escort the comely creature to my room. She would ask me to remove the combs from her hair and undress her. I would admire her body, beginning with her toes," I said, touching each of Sheila's toes as if I were counting them.

"I would touch her feet, massage her calves, feel her inner thighs, and ruffle her pubic hair."

Sheila's eyes opened and she saw that I was hovered above her, about to blow warm air on her bush. She shivered and closed her eyes. Discovering how warm air affected her, I continued up her tummy, on to her breasts and neck. She opened her eyes.

"Take off your clothes and show me," she said.

"Are you speaking to me or the guy in the lobby?"