Chapter 6

Brian arrived late. He flung himself into the house tearing off his clothes on the way to the shower.

Susie sat at the kitchen table sipping a dry martini and smoking a cigarette. She wore a blue sheath dress and opal earrings, heavy eye shadow, mascara, and lipstick.

Brian, unzipping his pants, gave her a quick look and said, "Okay, you look all right. Maybe you'll get into the swing eventually, dressing like an executive's wife should."

But Susie was seeing herself as a wood nymph with one breast exposed, flitting about the house next door.

He said, "But hold down the boozing or you'll spill the beans to Clayton's wife, like how big I scored yesterday which Clayton doesn't realize yet. That cunt is one sneaky bitch, don't forget it."

His pants and shorts fell. He was kicking out of them, toeing his shoes off, and everything would remain in a heap for Susie to haul away. She gazed at him, thinking what a wonderful body her husband had, that great hairy chest, the long, muscular legs. And his genitals, a dark penis that even limp looked fat and long, plump testicles weighting his scrotum far down between his legs.

He was twice the man Phil was. But, impaled on Phil's rigid organ, Susie had gotten the biggest cum of her life.

Brian went and showered, appeared wearing a new gray suit, a silky sheen to it, oh yes he was a dreadfully handsome husband to have, and in the car, a big new sedan, she guessed she should feel rather queenly, pretty wife of executive exuding success, the same at Caroso's where a bill that Brian slipped into the headwaiter's hand bought them the best table and instant service.

Clayton made a good appearance, smaller than Brian and with a foxy look Brian was equally sly but concealed it handsomely dressed and adorned by the beauteous Carla, a redhead wearing an actress bra that squeezed her big white breasts out into view, sheer sex, that woman, but watch it, she is as sneaky as Brian says.

During cocktails the two men went off to the bar to have a stiff one while clapping each other on the back and roaring at their jokes. Susie thought, What a pair of fake, shitty bastards!

Carla prattled about office gossip, clothes, hairdos, the latest perfumes and vaginal deodorants, none of which had to do with a wood nymph. Susie smiled vaguely and answered in one word questions. Carla was obviously relieved when the men returned.

They had wine with dinner and brandy afterwards, too much to drink maybe because Susie sat like a lump, a washout, maybe a dumb house-wife, she thought. The booze gave her a headache and when they got home she took sleeping pills and zonked out. During the night she thought she felt Brian stick it into her but she was not sure.

In the morning she came alive. Alive, yes, skipping and singing as soon as Brian had left for work, by nine o'clock finished tidying up, and dancing to the back lawn and across it to the latticework gate and through to the shadowy back porch of the house Brian called a Gothic horror.

In the kitchen she heard the twanging of a ukulele.

"Rita!" she called.

"Sweet Susie! Come in, do you know the tune of Aloha Ohee?"

Susie hurried in, found her friend wearing a white-on-red sarong, her body voluptuously swaying through a hip-tossing hula as she strummed a ukulele held at her waist. Her bare breasts rolled and swung, and so did a lei of fresh red and white flowers about her neck.

Delighted, Susie clapped her hands, and in that moment knew the key to this house. It was joy, unselfish, undemanding, shared.

How unlike the jungle warfare of Brian and Clayton!

Susie ran to Rita and gave the ritual kiss on the mouth and in it, her tongue weaving about Rita's almost in hula rhythm.

Then Rita laughed and said, "So, my wood-nymph darling, you're back. To the wardrobe?"

"Oh yes!" Susie cried and arm-in-arm they swung into the hall to the roomful of costumes where Susie snatched her mesh-like blue garment from a hanger and began undressing.

Rita, strumming her ukulele, said, "Phil told me how big you and he made it."

Blushing, Susie nodded. "He's sweet."

"His mood was so high that this morning, when his old boss phoned and asked him to do a special repair job on a business machine, he accepted. You certainly snapped him out of his fag- fear mood."

Susie paused in unhitching her bra. "Then he's not here?" she asked, disappointed.

"No, but Howard, my husband, is, and dying to meet you. So's everyone, after how Phil talked. By the way, he took this job in part to raise money to buy you something."

"Goodness!" Susie said. "A gift? But I'm married goodness, it makes a mixup, doesn't it? And Willa, what would she say?"

"Nothing nice. She mother-hens Phil. She's rather a brassy creature. Punch her in the stomach, show her you won't take any crap and she'll be a doll."

"Goodness, I couldn't punch anybody," Susie said, hanging up her bra and then pushing down her panties hurriedly, eager to get into her wood-nymph costume.

Rita, smiling at her, said, "You are indeed a luscious thing, Susie. You make my pussy fairly quiver." Then abruptly she put down the ukulele, gave a yank at the sarong knot on her hip, stripped off the garment and came stark naked into Susie's arms.

The meeting of soft breast and belly flesh, a cushiony merging, flowing together, heated Susie to the toes, and eagerly she hugged her friend, found her mouth, kissed her.

Like that, tongues lolling over each other, nipples growing lustily Susie could not be sure which pair of the four nipples indenting the warm breast cushions were hers bellies squashing snugly, pubic hair brushing thighs, they twined arms about each other's backs, hugging tighter, pulsing on a shared heartbeat.

Susie recalled her puzzlement yesterday about her apparent lesbian streak. Right now it seemed pure affection, love for dear, generous Rita, who had so wholeheartedly welcomed her to this strange menage called the Pageant, the Zoo, Howard's Horny Haven.

She said, while kissing and sucking Rita's creamy soft lips, "But I should do something here, help out. Pay my way."

"If you wish. You'll find work here, but first, you're becoming a sister to all of us and that's what counts. We're all family, you see." Then she nuzzled Susie's throat and whispered, "Darling, I so want to make love to you. But I have chores to finish. Would you meet me in the swing room in an hour?"

"Oh, yes!" Susie cried.

"Until then, go upstairs and find Howard in his workshop. And shortly Gwen will start her yoga session you might join her."

Rita pushed away, grabbed her ukulele and sarong.

But before leaving she came and bent to Susie's breast, kissed each swollen nipple.

Then she was gone, leaving Susie with tears of joy in her eyes, fingering the hardened tips of her breasts.

Wearing her diaphanous blue tunic, one breast exposed, she went to the rooms where she had found such pleasure yesterday, to the swing room to greet the canary and the parakeet, to the library, empty now. She gazed fondly at the foot-stools where she and Phil had sat, he wearing pink panties. The thought of him wearing them, stretched to a tent by his erection, made her giggle. She also got a vaginal spasm from it, stood there pressing her pussy, remembering how she had climbed onto the horny tower of his prick.

Like wow!

Returning to the hall she found a stairway up, steep, with a hand-worn broad wooden banister. As she climbed she suppressed an urge to straddle the banister and slide down on her unclothed pussy.

What's happened to me? she thought.

Wondering, she continued on, tugging lightly at her exposed nipple, not sure why she was doing it except that it felt good. But she would have to meet Howard with a swollen breast tip. Well, teasing the stiff, rubbery peg did seem to fit the house, and she continued as she glanced into three bedrooms before she came to a small room where she heard a light metallic clattering, like a small tool dropped.