Chapter 2

Ralph was sitting in the glassed-in cubicle which served as his office when Howard arrived at the Auto Circus lot the next morning. He waved, his round face beaming cheerfully, and motioned for Howard to join him.

"Morning, Howie," Ralph said enthusiastically as Howard entered the office. He shook the younger man's hand. "How's the head today?"

"Not too bad," Howard confessed, his voice a little rueful. "I guess I did over-indulge a little, though."

"Nonsense, my boy. Anniversary celebrations were made for over- indulgence." Ralph indicated the client's chair before his molded plastic desk, and then went around behind the modernistic furnishing and seated himself in his swivel chair. He cleared his throat, meeting Howard's eyes; his own were twinkling. "Did you and Cindy, ah, go right to bed after we left, Howie?"

Howard felt heat inadvertently rise on his neck and cheeks as the remembrance of the previous evening's activities with his wife sprang full-blown into his mind once more. "Well, we... I mean, that is... not exactly..."

Ralph chuckled softly. "Tried out the ole Polaroid, eh?" he said sagely. "Norma and I thought you probably would."

Howard searched for words, but none of an appropriate nature came to his mind. He finally managed lamely, "It's a very nice camera, Ralph. We... we appreciate such an expensive gift..."

"Did you--take some pictures of Cindy, Howie?" asked Ralph with a sly intonation.

Howard's face grew an even darker red. "P-pictures?" he stammered.

"Sure," said Ralph, winking. "Like I told you. In the bedroom."

"I... I..."

"Did you try out the timer?"

"The... the timer?"

"The fifteen-second timer, Howie," Ralph said patiently. Then he leaned forward across the desk, dropping his voice conspiratorially. "How far would she go, hey, boy? Just a little cheesecake, I'd guess. The girls are usually pretty shy at first."

"I... I don't know what you mean, Ralph." Howard was fidgeting nervously in his chair, his face flaming now.

"Oh come on, Howie," Ralph said, leaning back in his chair again. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, you know. Almost everybody who gets his first Polaroid-with-timer has the same ideas and does the same things. They're great little intimacy arousers. Get you hornier than hell, especially if you use the timer so that you get shots of you and the wife making it."

Howard stared at his employer with widening eyes. He had known Ralph was open and frank to the point of coarseness at times, but never had he expected to hear such personal comments coming from the man. Why, he was practically suggesting that he, Howard, engage in lewd practices like... well, like voyeurism, for God's sake! Self-voyeurism, at that!

Ralph opened the walnut humidor on his desk and selected an imported cigar. He snipped off the end with a tiny pair of gold scissors, lighted it with a gold lighter, and blew a cloud of blue-gray smoke at the ceiling. "You're not going to tell me you're less of a red-blooded man than I thought, are you, Howie? Especially after our little talk in the kitchen last night."

Howard bristled a little at that, feeling some of the heat leave his face. "What do you mean by that, Ralph?"

"Why do you suppose Norma and I gave you that Polaroid, my boy?"

"I don't know," came the reply. "Why did you?"

"Because I thought you'd appreciate the potential of such a gift, Howie, that's why. I got my first Polaroid four years ago, from Norma's sister, and I appreciated the potential right away. You seemed like the same kind of fun-loving, new-frontiers type that I am; if you hadn't, I wouldn't have allowed our friendship to bond as tightly as it has. Hell, I figured: why should I be having all the kicks, just because I've got a little more money in the bank than old Howie boy."

"You... you mean, you and Norma have... ?"

"Taken pictures of one another? And together, fucking? Sure we have, boy. Why, thousands of people do the same thing all over the country these days. It's the in-thing with those in-the-know." He paused, measuring the younger man candidly. "But, of course, you already knew that, didn't you?"

"Uh, well, sure I did, Ralph. Sure I knew that."

Ralph allowed his smile to widen. "That's what I thought. I didn't really believe for a minute that I'd underestimated my star salesman." He chuckled softly, then leaned forward across his desk again. "Now come on, boy, give a little. Did you get some good cheesecake shots or not last night?"

Howard moistened his lips uncertainly. Ralph had put him in an awkward position: what he and Cindy did in the privacy of their own home was their business and no one else's--but then again, Ralph was a good friend and his boss, as well; and he was in a position to do Howard a great deal of future good. After all, hadn't Ralph been instrumental in getting him his last promotion and pay raise from the company president? Besides that, Ralph had more or less put this business of picture-taking on a masculine-pride level; Howard was one who would never admit to being a lesser man, much less to being naive in the ways of the world.

It wouldn't do any harm, really, he thought, to tell Ralph about the photos he had taken of Cindy the night before. It was all innocent anyway; Cindy would never approve, naturally--but she would never have to know.

Howard managed a smile, licking his lips again. "Well," he said, "as a matter of fact, Ralph, I... I did get some pretty good shots, at that. Some... some cheesecake, as you say."

"I thought so," Ralph beamed. "Pretty hot, eh?"

"Sure," Howard said, having committed himself. "Sure, they were pretty hot ones, Ralph." Ralph laughed. "Nude shots?"

Howard felt himself flushing again. "Well... well, not exactly. But they were pretty good anyway. Cheesecake you know."

Ralph opened the bottom drawer of his desk and took out a small manila envelope, which he placed on the glass top in front of Howard. "Not anywhere in the neighborhood of these, I'll bet," he said.

Howard frowned, looking at the envelope. "What's this?"

"Open it up and take a look, my boy."

Howard did that, extracting several glossy full-color photographs which had obviously been taken with Polaroid cameras. They were blown-up five-by-seven prints, and Howard sucked in his breath sharply as he saw what they graphically depicted. "My God!" he managed to whisper.

The top photo was of a lithe, buxom brunette with an angelic face. She was lying completely nude on her back on a rumpled bed, her slender legs raised and wide-spread so that the whole of her naked loins were displayed to the eye of the camera. Her hands were cupped teasingly around her pubic triangle, framing the wide-splayed splendor of her softly hair-fringed cunt. She was smiling coyly between her ruby-nippled, alabaster breasts.

Howard blinked and looked at the second photo. Another sharp intake of breath, and a small gasp. The same angelic brunette was in this one, but with her also was a dark-haired, handsome male. The brunette was straddling the man's loins, her widespread loins lowered down on the man's hardened penis, so that fully half of its huge length was sunk into her open vagina. She was holding its base between her thumb and forefinger, her small pink tongue held tightly between her full red lips and her eyes squeezed tightly shut in ecstasy. Her other hand was squeezing her left breast, very hard, so that the jutting nipple seemed to point directly at the camera.

Quickly, with beads of sweat lacing his forehead and a rising harness in his loins, Howard thumbed through the other pictures. One showed a different, gray-templed man kneeling between the opened thighs of a petite blonde with pear-shaped breasts, his long tongue snaked out so that it touched the swollen bud of her pink clitoris nestled between fleece-like blonde pubic hair. Another depicted a voluptuous raven-haired girl barely out of her teens with her coral-colored lips voraciously encircling the erect, swollen prick of a muscular hirsute man while he used the middle finger of one hand in the wet, glistening area of her soft pink cunt, her leg being raised so that the full extent of her womanhood was presented to the viewer's eyes while she sucked the man's cock and toyed with his sperm-heavy balls. Still another photo showed two couples, both in their mid-thirties, engaged in an orgiastic group session which Howard could not believe upon first sight, since it involved cunnilingus, fellatio, sodomy all at the same time. The final snap was of two blonde girls and a huge German Shepherd dog, the animal's long hot lolling tongue probing the pubic region of one of the girls while his wet red penis sawed into the upthrust cunt of the second.

Howard was sweating profusely, his breath coming in short gasps as his own genitals tingling with arousal, when he put the group of photographs back on Ralph's desk. "Good Christ, Ralph," he managed, "where did you get those?"

"They're really something, aren't they?" Ralph asked, snickering softly.

"I've never seen anything like that in my life!"

"And these're just one small example of what can be done with a good old Polaroid camera, Howie," said Ralph. "I've got other ones at home-- wilder ones, if you can believe it."

Howard wiped his forehead with the back of one hand. His throat felt dry. "But where did you get them, Ralph? They... they don't look like model-posed pornographic pictures..."

"They're not," Ralph told him. "All the people in these photos are just like you and me, Howie average American citizens just out looking for a few kicks. They all belong to an exchange-photographic organization-- The Polaroid Club. Norma and I are members ourselves."

"You... you are?" Howard could scarcely believe what his boss was telling him; he had thought he knew most everything about Ralph Taylor, his likes and dislikes, his interests and directions. He had never suspected for a moment that Ralph would be involved in this... this... well, this dirty picture club. Still, the photos were extremely stimulating, more stimulating than anything he had ever seen before. Just thinking about them made his prick tremble and begin to rise again...

"The way it works," Ralph was explaining, "we subscribe to this monthly newspaper the Club produces. Couples write in, describing themselves and their photos, what they'd like in return, and so on. Then we exchange pictures."

"You mean this Polaroid Club is a nationwide thing?"

"Sure. There are four chapters--one in New York, one in Florida, one in Chicago, and one in San Francisco-Los Angeles. The New York Chapter puts out the newspaper. Hell, you can buy a copy of it right here in Morriston, under the counter of course. Costs a buck a copy." "Here in Morriston?" Howard was incredulous.

Ralph laughed. "Uh-huh. Why, you'd be surprised at some of the locals who are members of the Club; you really would be, Howie."

"You... you just exchange photos, that's all you do? I mean, you hear so much these days about wife-swapping...

"That's not our bag," Ralph said with a slow smile. "We're strictly out for our own kicks, together. Oh sure, some of the others undoubtedly go in for that sort of thing--witness some of those pictures you just saw- -but that's their business, not ours. I mean, what the hell?"

"Sure," Howard said.

"There's not a damned thing wrong with this picture exchange that I can see," said Ralph. "We're being faithful to our wives, aren't we? Those of us who are in the Club for personal gratification, I mean. All we're doing is getting ourselves and our wives turned on watching some other people doing it, and they're doing the same thing watching us. And it does get you turned on, Howie boy, believe me."

I believe you, all right, Howard thought. I can remember how excited I got last right, taking pictures of Cindy--and they weren't anything more than some harmless cheesecake. I wonder if I dare...

He shook his head, as if to clear it. No, there was no use thinking about trying to carry his thoughts past the pure day-dream stage. Cindy would never allow him to take pictures of her stripped completely naked, even though she had agreed to the cheesecake photos of the previous night, and she would most definitely never allow anything as lascivious as self- photos of the two of them making love. For God's sake, even if she did agree to go that far, she would certainly not agree to let anyone else, much less strangers, see the photos.

And he shouldn't expect her to, damn it; what was the matter with him? Cindy was a sweet, moral girl, faithful and passionate and able to satisfy his every need up until now--so why was he thinking about asking her to do something which fairly shouted of perversity and lack of respect for privacy and personal intimacy? Why should he be so excited at the possibility of seeing more of these photos which Ralph had just shown him? Why should the thought of watching other people making love and performing perversion on a regular basis bring the sweat out on his forehead, and bring a tightness to his chest and loins? Well, he couldn't explain it; it was beyond his comprehension. He knew only that the idea of seeing Cindy in a provocative position in a photograph, as he had for the first time last night, turned him on like he had never been turned on before. And the sight of these photos of strangers today had had the same physical effect on him.

He realized Ralph was speaking to him. "... do you think, Howie boy?"

"I'm sorry, Ralph. what did you say?"

"I said," Ralph repeated, "what do you think of the idea of the Polaroid Club?"

"Well, I... I suppose it's all right," Howard said hesitantly. "For other people, I mean." He averted his eyes.

"But not for you, eh boy?"

"No, I... I don't think so, Ralph."

Ralph smiled knowledgeably. "Sure now? I can tell by your face that you're interested, Howie."

"No... no, I'm not, really, Ralph... I'm not." Howard got quickly to his feet, conscious of his sweat-sheened face and neck. "I... I think I'd better get to work. There are some contracts that have to be drawn up..."

Ralph also stood. "Okay, boy," he said. "But think it over, will you? We'd be mighty glad to have you aboard; it's really a wild bag." He chuckled. "And if you're worried about Cindy going along, I've got just the remedy."

Howard had turned toward the door. Now, without conscious thought, he found himself turning back to his superior. "What kind of remedy?" he heard himself ask.

"Take these pictures with you when you go home for supper tonight," Ralph said, pushing the photos and the manila envelope across the desk toward Howard. "And on your way, stop and buy a copy of that newspaper I was telling you about--The Polaroid Club News. I'll tell you where you can pick it up. Then you leave the paper and the photos where Cindy will be sure to find them..."

"No, I couldn't do that," Howard said, shocked. "It's... not right! Cindy would never forgive me..."

"I think you're underestimating not only your wife but women in general, my boy. Why not give it a try? You're interested, I know you are. You can't fool old Ralph. Take it from me, all you've got to do is put the bug in the wife's ear, get her on the track. Once they see the kicks involved, they're only too happy to go along. I know, boy; Norma was the same as Cindy, shy and retiring, when I first heard about the Polaroid Club. Now she's open and much warmer--and hell on wheels in the rack, let me tell you!"

Howard felt uncomfortable in the face of all this candidness, the unexpected admissions and ideas and concepts which he had been subjected to this morning. He wanted to get out of there, get to work so he could think more clearly. "I... I don't think so, Ralph, I don't think so..." he managed, groping his way to the door, opening it, walking swiftly toward his own small cubicle.

He did not realize until he had entered it and seated himself at his desk that he held the photos Ralph had shown him in his right hand...

Howard left the Auto Circus at five that night, for his hour-and-a- half supper break. The lot stayed open until midnight seven days a week, and this was his week to close up five of the seven days.

He had not had a good day. He had bungled two sales, unable to keep his mind on the demanding task of promoting a customer's confidence in himself and the vehicle he was selling, and had fouled up a contract for a regular volume buyer. He hadn't been able to get his mind off Ralph's words of that morning and of the photos which seemed to be burning a hole in his jacket pocket.

At four-thirty, he had known that there was no use in kidding himself any longer; he was going to take Ralph's suggestion about leaving the photographs and a copy of that newspaper where Cindy would be sure to find them. He had gone in to see Ralph, taken a deep breath, and asked where he could buy a copy of the Polaroid Club News.

Ralph had winked boldly at him, saying, "I thought you'd change your mind, my boy. And you won't be sorry, either; no sir, you won't be sorry at all. Now the place you want to go is Winkler's Used Books, over on Shafer Avenue..."

Feeling a strange combination of guilt and mounting excitement at what he was about to do, Howard drove over to Shafer Avenue and found Winkler's Used Books, a small neighbor hood secondhand store set midway in the block. Somewhat self-consciously, for he had never so much as purchased a girlie magazine in the past--although he had managed to sneak a look at some of them from time to time--Howard went inside and asked the grizzled, bald-headed old man behind the counter for a copy of "a modern swinger's newspaper," as Ralph had instructed him.

The old man didn't even glance at him twice. He reached under the counter, produced a small, six-page, roughly printed news-sheet, and demanded a dollar. Howard gave it to him and, clutching the paper tightly under his arm, he hurried back to where he had parked his car.

He sat inside for a time, his heart beating rapidly in his chest, a curious fluttering sensation in his lower belly. He glanced over the paper, marveling at some of the ads there, growing excited by them; it was as if he couldn't get enough air in his chest. Jesus, but I'd like to send away for some of the photos mentioned in here. If they're half as good as they claim, they ought to really be something...

With trembling fingers, he took the manila envelope of pictures from his coat pocket and glanced through them again. His prick seemed to jerk spasmodically in his pants as he once again saw the lewd, tremendously stimulating acts being performed in the full-color splendor of the Polaroid snaps. The ones that really turned him on the most were those depicting oral love: soft feminine mouths closed eagerly, hungrily over the lust-hardened cocks of their husbands; masculine lips and tongues paying devoted homage to the warm, secret, tender cuntal valleys of their wives. These he would put on top, so that they would be the first ones Cindy would see when she opened the envelope; maybe they would convince her of the beauty, of the rightness, of oral love...

He started to fold the newspaper around the photos when a sudden frown creased his forehead and he stopped. Some of the other photos, besides those depicting oral by-play, were pretty raw for the uninitiated eyes of his naive young wife; instead of being turned on, being interested and excited by the newspaper and snaps as he intended, mightn't she become repulsed and sickened by viewing such blatantly carnal acts as sodomy and seance a trots and bestiality? Yes, yes, of course she would! He couldn't include those pictures, not now, not at this early date just the milder ones, the ones showing a man and his wife making love in all the possible ways...