Chapter 7

Bill Dodge placed his hand very properly in the small of the beautiful young blonde's back, just lightly enough to guide her through the double doorway and into the tiled entrance foyer. He took her light wrap and hung it in the formal-sized coat closet, along with what looked like a million expensive furs and cashmeres. She turned to look down the corridor toward the living room doorway, and Dodge was able to get a few seconds of uninterrupted, unabashed staring in before it was necessary to put back on his Mr. Nice Guy-smile. Christ, what a body! The ass on this lovely young chick he just couldn't believe! Two nice ripe handfuls, just aching to be squeezed like a couple of juicy melons, nearly bursting from her skin-tight dress. He could even see the lovely dimpled little crevice where the fabric dipped as it lovingly stretched across the glorious swell of her buttocks. Damn, his wife, Valerie, had certainly made the right move this time. Sometimes her choices were a bit strange, like that actor from California and his heroin-shooting wife, but not this time! This little honey was alright!

Of course, William Dodge hadn't always been quite so free-swinging and hip in his extra-marital sex life; he had Valerie to thank for the sudden new world she had introduced him to a few years back. There were two broken marriages behind each of them when they met in 1961 at the New York Art Director's Show, an annual exhibition of some of the best in advertising commercial art. Bill was there that year with several of his creative staff, riding high on the crest of agency popularity, having been just selected as the firm to package three network specials for NBC for the upcoming fall season, and Valerie Madison, after giving up her acting career, was then at the peak of her fame as the world's top model-agency chief, or procurer, as she liked to call herself for shock-value. Both of them at their zenith seemingly, career-wise, yet both were searching for something to fill the undeniable void in their respective lives. And after a few months of occasional dating and being buzzed about in all the society page columns, they decided to get married.

It had been, at first, as much of a merger as a marriage, the two corporate heads bringing their resources and assets together in a pooling that formed the W. B. Dodge Company as it existed today, Valerie magnanimously offering her new husband the right to sole use of the banner head. Not that there hadn't been another side to their marriage-- Valerie certainly saw to that. Until she came along, Bill Dodge had never known what really total sexual excitement was all about. Sure, he'd had his share of would-be starlets and agency hangers-on, and they were all satisfying in their own sort of way, but nothing like this. Valerie was a veritable chasm of sexual delights, seemingly never tiring of incessant romps beneath the covers, continually frequent couplings that he knew he could only hope to provide her for just so long.

Extramarital sex wasn't even a topic they discussed; possibly if they had tried to agree on a plan of action, their life together would have been doomed to failure. But Valerie came through again, introducing him to a circle of friends she had apparently kept well obscured during the early months of their marriage, explaining much later that she wasn't lying, just waiting until he was ready for such far-out hobbies as wife- swapping and all-night orgies with a dozen or more couples.

But Dodge had taken to this new life like a duck to water, only in the very beginning feeling those omnipresent pangs of gnawing jealousy as he saw his lovely wife naked, being screwed until she screamed in ecstasy, sometimes by as many as five or six men in the course of one evening's get-together. Not now, though, now he enjoyed her little dalliances as much as his own, and fortunately, his new-found voyeuristic proclivities were well complemented by Valerie's obsessive exhibitionism.

Yes, their sex lives were most compatible. And they never forgot their allegiance to each other. Valerie, by turning the best of her current ripening young models over to her husband, satisfying his frequent cravings for just the right girlish, slim-hipped teeny-bopper to answer the burning desires his lechery fanned in his balls; and Dodge himself, never tiring in his quest for tireless young studs to toss to his insatiable auburn-haired wife like raw meat to a lioness. In fact, it had been he who first pointed out this newest passion to Valerie, directing her to "take a look at that artist kid waiting for his girl in our reception room." Valerie, of course, had taken it from there. And quite well, too, judging from the video tapes he'd previewed only last night.

His eyes caught a glimpse of Jessica's trim lovely legs, framed in the slit of her dress that went nearly up to the top of her thigh. She caught him staring at her when she turned, and quickly looked away, trying hard not to blush this time.

"Well, let's get a couple of drinks first and then join the fun," he said cheerily.

Jessica peered around the doorway into the immense living room; it was actually two rooms, L-shaped, and probably close to sixty feet at its longest point. The room was quite dark, most of the illumination coming from a good-sized projection screen at the end of the longest leg. A film was running; Jessica recognized it immediately as one of Valerie Madison's earlier television shows, a situation comedy that was quite successful in the fifties and now well into its thousandth rerun on afternoon TV. The long room, really more like a hall, was crowded with people, some sitting, some standing, quite a few even sprawled on the shag-carpeted floor. It was impossible to recognize anyone in the dim light, and for this she was grateful. It meant she didn't have to come to grips with the problem of what to tell Phillip right away; maybe with some time to think, it would be easier.

Dodge handed her a tall drink, served in a thick frosted glass, which he obtained from the light-skinned Negro busily mixing cocktails behind a richly-padded leather bar hidden away in one corner.

"What is it?" she asked, rather surprised that her host had not first asked her preference.

There was a sudden burst of laughter as the slapstick action on the screen grew increasingly frantic, and the crowded smoky room came alive with screams of amusement. "It's a special drink that Valerie discovered. She serves it at all her parties..." He was nearly shouting in her ear to be heard over the noise. "... Won't tell me the secret ingredients. Nobody knows but her. She mixes it up ahead of time and Randolph, the barman, just gets another pitcher from the kitchen maid when he runs low. I do know the base is absinthe Pernod, the real stuff from Spain."

"Pernod! Isn't that supposed to be poison, or something?" asked Jessica cautiously. She suddenly remembered a few half-whispered tales about the milky drink, rumors about its potent powers. Some even claimed it to be an aphrodisiac, though this had been disputed.

"It's like a lot of things, poisonous if you drink too much of it. Hell, you can die from drinking Scotch, if you decide to empty a barrel instead of a bottle. Don't worry about it," he assured her, "we've all been drinking it for years, and nothing's gone wrong yet." And at that, he made a melodramatic grab for his throat, clutching his windpipe as if dying, his eyeballs suddenly puffed out like a frog's.

Jessica laughed aloud at his obvious kidding, then suddenly felt better, more relaxed about being here, about having to eventually face Phillip. William Dodge seemed quite human to her now, no longer the distant, marble-cut corporate captain she'd known him to be from afar.

She felt a slight light headedness from the strong drink, though the potent blend was, indeed, very tasty, more like a tangy milkshake than the harsh gagging concoction she had expected. There was a glow there, but otherwise it didn't seem to dull her thinking like alcohol usually did. She liked it and sipped heavily again as William Dodge passed her another drink. A strange giddiness seemed to pervade throughout her whole body as she turned from the bar and looked around the darkened room. She had to squint her eyes to even see the opposite end because of the dimness, but still, she could make out the silhouettes of little clusters of people scattered about the enormous apartment. She strained to see if she could spot Phillip, half-hoping Dodge had been wrong and her boyfriend wasn't here. She wondered if he'd tried to reach her, explain that he was invited to this get-together. But she knew he had, it wouldn't be like sweet Phillip to do otherwise.

And then she saw him, outlined quite clearly as he passed in front of the doorway to the apartment's other rooms. Her whole body tensed, and she could see out of the corner of her eye that Dodge had noticed her sudden reaction. He came directly toward them, and she thought for a moment he had spotted her. But no, he stopped at a thickly upholstered loveseat sofa just a few feet away from where she stood near the bar.

"What's wrong, dear," Dodge whispered in her ear.

"Shhhhh," she managed, afraid that Phillip would hear her voice. She stood immobile for what seemed hours, not resisting as William Dodge slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him. She felt the softness of her breasts crushed against his chest, though she didn't move as she watched, unbelieving, as Phillip's arms went familiarly around the body of the attractive woman she now recognized as Valerie Dodge.

"It's Phillip... and your wife!" she whispered loudly, safer now from discovery that her boyfriend's back was turned. She watched with tears filling her eyes as Phillip's hands were seemingly everywhere at once on the voluptuous celebrity's receptive body. She saw now for the first time the horrible truth... the man she held up as an example to strive for, the wonderful friend and lover she idolized... no better than any cheating husband or boyfriend anywhere.

"Don't cry, luv, you'll smear your make-up."

"I don't care anymore," she replied bitterly, dabbing her eyes gingerly with his handkerchief. "I'd like another drink, please. It looks like I'11 need one."

"Now you're talking," smiled Bill Dodge, "that's just what I hoped you'd say."

Dodge's arm curled around her waist as she pulled heavily on her new drink; she leaned limply against him, all will to fight kicked out of her like a lungful of air with the revelation of Phillip's obvious infidelity. It hurt her, hurt her badly. And ironically, it hurt even worse because of her own horrible failure, that nightmarish encounter with Marty Felder. All the hours, All the nights of worrying, crying... and all along, her precious boyfriend, the man she was going to marry, was no better. Even worse, he had a choice; no one forced him into anything. A man couldn't be forced to do the things she was seeing him do with her own eyes. God, how it ached to see him like this, like a fallen angel kicked from his place on high, now just another mortal, wallowing in the dust and dirt of earthly sin.

Only the knowledge that her wonderful Phillip would someday understand, that she could come to him, humbly and without conditions, to ask for his forgiveness... only that knowledge had kept her alive these few days, had given her the strength to go on despite the ravishment she had endured at the hands of Marty Felder. Just thinking of Phillip, her knight in shining armor, had given her the will to live, the desire to keep on striving for what she had set as her goal in life. She had drawn from him a feeling of security, of strength, much like another might have drawn from her rosary or her Bible. And now, now that was all gone... she felt more alone, more deserted and helpless, than she'd ever felt in her whole life. More than when she left home to come to New York, even more than last week when she left Felder's penthouse, bruised and ravaged, raped of her virginity.

Damn him, she thought, damn, damn, damn! He's not the only one who can have a good time! If he can do it, so can I! She could hurt him just as much as he could hurt her and if she had to do it, she would, without a second's hesitation. She sipped again on the strong greenish drink; the liquid seemed to wash away her tears, leaving in their place a kind of seething anger that grew by the moment.

She tried not to look, to keep her eyes away from the spectacle her boyfriend and this man's wife were making of themselves, but she couldn't, and when she looked again, to her horrified amazement, he had his hand inside the woman's dress as she lay back, her eyes closed, savoring his lascivious massaging, a rapturous expression on her face.

"The kid seems to know what he's doing," whispered Bill in her ear contemptuously.

"Oh, how could he. I mean, how could they!" she said, clenching her teeth, her voice rising in anger.

"Quiet, they'll hear you," he said in her hair, "and we don't want a scene. Remember, she's my wife."

Jessica knew he was right, as much as she would have liked to scream a few things into Phillip Wright's face and storm out. She gulped down the rest of her cocktail and asked for another, not taking her eyes for a moment off the lovemaking couple only a dozen feet away. Valerie's dress was unbuttoned now, and Phillip had lowered his face to her breasts. Even in the dim light, Jessica could see that his lips were fastened to the red haired woman's nipple, she squirmed from side to side in the narrow confines of the loveseat.

She hardly dared to breathe. The strong drink had turned her body into a loose bundle of nerve ends that her mind could no longer control. She could not believe what she was seeing with her own two eyes... nor could she believe the feelings that were suddenly stirring in her own flesh in tiny licking flames of desire. Was it the absinthe? Or was it the wanton forbidden wickedness of watching the man she loved making love to another woman? She didn't know, but whatever it was, it was steadily growing within her.

Bill Dodge's hands were around her waist, tenderly massaging her around the middle, and she didn't protest as his hands moved upward, slowly at first, until his palms cupped around the firm, lusciously formed mounds of her well-ripened young titties. She could feel the heat of his breath as he nibbled at the side of her neck. Paralyzed, she watched mutely as Phillip's hands searched under Dodge's wife's dress, found their mark as she arched suddenly, a silent scream on her lips, her eyes rolling in her head.

Suddenly Phillip glanced their way; she snapped her head away in time, but her lips were quickly met by Bill's insistent mouth. She let him kiss her; in fact, she kissed him back, hard... he almost hoped Phillip had spotted her, hoped he could see her in the arms of Bill Dodge, watch helplessly as she allowed another man to hold her, to caress her, to fondle her like his own... like he was doing with Valerie Dodge!

Bill's hands snaked over the supple curves of her young perfectly formed model's body, explored the curves and soft female recesses of her trim figure. And she didn't try to stop him. Twice she almost pulled away, almost ran from the room, from this whole building... but she glanced at Phillip and Bill's wife. And that was enough to make her stay, to make her fight. Damn Phillip Wright! I'll show him! I'll show him!

"Looks like they're moving to someplace quieter... with a little more privacy," whispered Bill. Jessica jerked her head around; in her growing passion, she had almost forgotten for a moment about her boyfriend and this man's wife.

Then she saw them moving through the crowd of buzzing people, past a couple or two already embraced on the carpet or on the sofas. He was right! They were going toward the bedrooms!

She turned away from the lurid scene, back to her drink and to Bill. She finished it hurriedly, then another, fighting once again to hold back the stinging tears that filled her eyes.

Later, after he had pressed more drinks than she could count in her hands and she had gratefully downed them, he pulled her to her feet from the couch. "Come on," he whispered quietly. "Let's just see what that young boyfriend of yours is doing to my wife. We might even try to even things up with them."

She followed him blindly, not caring where he was taking her or how long it took to get there.

"They've had long enough. We'll probably catch 'em right in the middle of it," Bill Dodge said. Jessica had lost count of the passion- inciting absinthe cocktails and she followed him wearily, like a lost child, toward the bedroom where Valerie and Phillip had disappeared a half-hour or so ago.

They reached the end of the corridor. "In here," he said, holding a finger to his lips. "And be quiet. They're in the same room."

He opened the door just enough for them to squeeze through without letting in too much light, though there was scarcely more light in the hallway than in the darkened bedroom. The room was large, even for Bill Dodge's apartment. It would have made an enormous dining room in any lesser man's apartment, here it was only the master bedroom.

She expected him to take her hand and lead her through the darkness, but instead, his arms pulled her to him and his lips came wetly into her mouth. She sucked on it gently, letting her body melt into his in the darkness. She could feel herself begin to tremble from the wicked excitement of another man's kiss long and hard and she could suddenly feel a slight jerk where his loins pressed into the softness of her stomach. He was getting hard and she sensed a sudden tensing in her own breasts as the tips were smashed hard against his chest.

Christ, I want to fuck you," he breathed into her ear.

Just the words strangely excited her as never before; but not a fearful excitement, it was one she welcomed. She reached down between their bodies and boldly stroked his penis, feeling more wicked than she ever had before. The tingling in her breasts dropped to her thighs and danced there magically for a moment as he sucked in his breath from her touch.

"Take off your dress," he whispered hoarsely, unable to stand it any longer. He guided her backwards to a chair that she could barely make out in the dimness of a tiny night-light from the bathroom. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness now and she could distinguish the forms of the furniture easier now.

Jessica's hands trembled as she reached behind her and slid the zipper silently down from her neck to the cleft of her buttocks. She lifted the dress over her head and dropped it softly back across the chair. She gasped unintentionally as the cool air rushed over her nipples; she hadn't worn a bra with the modish outfit, and she shivered now as the coolness teased the sensitive buds of her pink, already slightly pulsating nipples. She had her panties only remaining, not even stockings, as the dress was so long they weren't needed. Her almost- nakedness sent chills through her flesh, exciting her as she had never been excited before. The thought that she would soon be writhing in passion with another man with Phillip in the same room only added to the forbidden joy. She would never have believed it possible for her to do this, never in a million years. But here she was, nearly stripped, in a near-stranger's bedroom... and about to be fucked. Phillip Wright, you've got nobody to blame but yourself, she told herself, tempted to cry out in the darkness and let him try to figure it out. She could hear Bill Dodge struggling to get rid of his clothing and she smiled at his obvious impatience to get at her. Yes, she felt suddenly a different person, changed, changed drastically. And she was sure she'd like the new Jessica Richards far better than the old!