Saturday morning, Lucinda woke to sunlight slicing into the bedroom around the slats in the blinds. It looked like rays from a film projector, and for a moment she thought she was dreaming, in a movie being projected onto the bedroom walls. She heard the shower running and looked over to Bob’s side of the bed. He was gone. Good. She didn’t want to see him first thing this morning.
She put on gray fleece pants and a white tee-shirt—her Saturday housekeeping garb—went downstairs and started a pot of coffee. She grabbed the newspaper off the front stoop and retired to the back deck. The day was beautiful and bright, the grass and gardens verdant.
When she came back inside for a coffee, Bob was there, dressed in a charcoal-gray business suit, crisp white shirt, and navy-blue and silver striped tie.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“I told you last night. John and I have to go to Dalhousie Electronics in Cresston to go over our employee group benefits quotes with them.”
Had he mentioned that? Her brain had seemed to be misfiring on some of its synapses last night, and she had only heard about half of his words.
“When will you be back?”
“I’m not sure. Cresston’s a two-hour drive, and we have five quotes to go through with the Human Resources manager. Then John’s booked lunch with the President and the CFO. He’s also scheduled three later appointments with some companies whose business we’d like to get.” He gave a sheepish grin. “It’ll be late.”
How to test his story?
“Is John picking you up here?”
“No, I’m going to meet him at the office for a little strategy talk before we head out.”
“Why didn’t you have your strategy talk yesterday?”
Bob’s expression changed to exasperation. “Because it was too late after we finished the presentation.” He picked up his briefcase and headed for the front door. “I’ll call you before we leave Cresston.” He walked out to his car.
Not so much as a goodbye peck, Lucinda thought, fuming. She would have followed him again but what was the point? He was cheating on her, of that she was sure.
She kept busy for the rest of the day—cleaning the house, weeding the flowerbeds, occasionally anaesthetizing herself with a glass of white wine. She didn’t eat much, just some rabbit food—celery and carrot sticks. By seven p.m. she was worn-out and a bit tipsy, sprawled in the burgundy La-Z-Boy in the living room, watching the news on CNN. She was just nodding off when the phone rang on the end table beside her.
“Hi, honey,” Bob said. “Bad news. John and I have to stay over in Cresston.”
“Why?”
“Well, the client was impressed with our quotes. The President and the CFO told us over lunch that they think they’ll be in a position to award their business tomorrow. They thought it would be advisable for us to stay over in case they have any more questions. If everything goes well, they’ll sign the contracts in the morning.”
“That’s great,” Lucinda said, her voice sounding dead to her ears.
“I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.” She said it automatically, perfunctorily.
“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Sure. Bye.”
After she had hung up, Lucinda said, “Shit!” She had forgotten to ask him the name and phone number of the hotel where they’d be staying. How stupid! If he really was in Cresston, that is. She called his cellphone but it went straight to voice-mail. She didn’t leave a message.
She sat smoldering for a half-hour, her mind conjuring images of Bob fucking the brunette she had seen him with at the Propensa Hotel.
“Well, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.” She didn’t really feel like going out, but sitting here torturing herself with thoughts of Bob’s treachery was killing her.
She went upstairs and drew a bath, scented it with perfumed oil. She soaked for a half-hour, bathed and washed her hair, shaved her legs and under her arms.
She didn’t have a plan, just to get out and do something. With the wine she’d drunk she didn’t want to drive into the city. Maybe she’d take a cab to the nearest bar and hang out. She searched her mind. The closest bar she could think of was Laredo Slim’s, a low-rent country-and-western joint about a fifteen-minute drive away. Maybe Penny would come with her. It was getting late, closing in on nine, but they didn’t have to stay out all night. Penny wouldn’t want to drive inebriated either. Just a couple of drinks and some small talk. She didn’t want to punish Penny any more with her suspicions of Bob’s betrayal. She knew from the last time they’d spoken that Penny thought she was overreacting. She would keep things light, just idle chit-chat, girl talk.
She called from the bedroom phone, and Penny said, “Gee, I don’t know, Lucinda. It’s awfully late for us old broads.” That was one of the things Lucinda liked about her—her bawdy sense of humor. “Let me check with the old man and see if I can get clearance.”
She was gone for a while, and when she came back she said, “I explained things to Greg. He says it’s okay.”
Explained things? She hoped Penny hadn’t told him that Bob was cheating. She didn’t want Bob to have any kind of head’s-up before she started putting her plans in place.
“Can you drive, Penny? I’ve been sipping on wine all day.”
“Sure. I’ll just get cleaned up a bit. Pick you up around 9:30?”
“Great. See you then.”
Lucinda was going to put on clean jeans and a top, but then changed her mind. With Penny beside her tonight she would have to behave, but that didn’t mean she had to look dowdy. Browsing through her closet she found a white floral sundress she had always liked. It had pretty red and blue flowers on it and hung down to about six inches above the knees. She found a dainty pair of white lace panties to go with it, and decided to forego a bra.
She went into the bathroom to put on makeup, then nixed the idea. This was just a casual girls’ night out, no need for war paint. She found a small white clutch with a thin gold chain in her closet and put fifty dollars, her Visa card, and her bank card inside it. She waited at the living-room window, and when she saw Penny pull up, she went out, locked the front door, and got in Penny’s tangerine-yellow Ford Focus.
Penny was wearing blue jeans and a red faux-silk buttoned shirt. She eyed Lucinda’s dress. “You do know that this is a country bar?” she said.
“I know,” Lucinda said. “It doesn’t hurt to look nice, does it?
“I guess not.”
There were fifteen or so cars in the parking lot at Laredo Slim’s when they pulled in. Lucinda didn’t know if that was busy for a Saturday night or not. Inside, about thirty people sat around circular brown laminate tables and on high stools at the long bar. The place was rustic, with a plain wood floor and rough-hewn wall planks. A green-felted pool table occupied the far side of the room, and near it sat an old-fashioned jukebox with song titles illuminated in white rectangles on a slanted top. The base had a gold vertical grille in the center and multi-colored lights at the sides. A small dance area had been cleared in the center of the room. The place smelled like beer.
They were headed to the bar when a man at a table waved and yelled, “Hey, Penny! Come over and sit with us.” He was clean-shaven, had longish dark hair, and was with a woman and another man. Lucinda didn’t know any of them, although the second man looked familiar.
Penny led the way over and said, “Hi, Adam. Nicole.” She pulled up a chair and sat between the woman and the man who had called her. The other man slid a chair from the table behind him and put it between him and Adam. Lucinda sat on it carefully, making sure her short dress didn’t ride up.
Adam signaled to a female server dressed in jeans, a blue Laredo Slim’s oxford shirt, and a white cowboy hat.
“What are you girls up to tonight?” he asked Penny.
“Just slumming,” she said. “How about you?”
“Me and Randy came here after work, and who did we find but Nicole.”
“Jesus. How long have you guys been here?” It was pushing ten o’clock.
“Not that long. We didn’t get off till six, and we had a shower and changed before we came over.” Adam wore a white pocketed tee-shirt and blue jeans.
They didn’t seem intoxicated, Lucinda thought, though judging by the glassiness of their eyes they weren’t feeling any pain.
“And how have you been, Nicole?” Penny asked the woman beside her.
“Fine,” she said. She was wearing jeans as well, and a long-sleeved denim shirt. Her auburn hair fell straight to her shoulders. She looked to be in her mid to late thirties, Lucinda thought, attractive but a bit road-weary.
“How about you?” Nicole asked Penny.
“Never better. Sorry. This is Lucinda. Lucinda, this is Nicole, Adam, and…Randy, is it?”
“Yep,” the second man said. He wore a black pocketed tee-shirt and jeans, his brown hair kind of scraggly, two day’s stubble on his face.
“Nice to meet you,” Lucinda said to them. Adam and Randy offered their hands, which she shook. Nicole nodded at her. The men’s hands felt calloused, rough.
The server showed up, and Adam said, “What would you ladies like to drink? You can share our beer if you want.” A half-full pitcher of Coors sat on the table.
“Thanks,” Penny said. “I’ll do that.”
The server looked at Lucinda.
“What kind of white wine do you have?” she asked.
“White,” the server said without humor.
Lucinda’s cheeks warmed. “I’ll have a glass of that, then.”
As the server left, Randy smirked and said, “Well, lah-di-dah.”
“I’m not much of a beer drinker,” Lucinda said, and then wondered why she was explaining herself to this cretin.
Penny said, “Adam and his ex used to do a little line-dancing with Greg and me back in the day. How is April, anyway?”
Adam’s face seemed to cloud over. “I don’t see her much.”
Idle chit-chat reigned for the next hour and a half. The place got busier and the music from the jukebox got louder. Three more pitchers were ordered, and Lucinda had two more glasses of wine.
She didn’t get a chance to talk much with Penny, with her sitting between Adam and Nicole, and she was quiet for the most part. Adam tried to engage her a couple of times but her curt replies put him off. Randy seemed to leer at her most of the night, chomping on a wad of gum, moving his chair a little closer whenever he thought she wasn’t looking.
Through the conversation she found out that Nicole, like Adam, was also divorced and apparently came to Laredo Slim’s every weekend night. Adam flirted with the woman a couple of times, once wrapping an arm around her waist while they were up shooting pool and faking a big-lipped air smooch, but Nicole didn’t respond except to give him a look.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” Randy said.
Lucinda shifted her eyes to him. “I don’t think so, no.”
“I’m Ricky Gillespie’s dad. Me and the wife met you at the last parent-teacher night.”
So that was why he looked familiar. “Oh, yes. Now I remember. I see so many parents that night.”
“Ricky thinks a lot of you. In fact, you’re about the only thing we can squeeze out of him over what happens at school.”
Lucinda struggled to think of something nice to say about Ricky. “He’s a good-looking boy,” she said at last, and immediately regretted it. The boy was handsome, sure, but what a stupid comment to make about a student.
Randy grinned. “He gets that from his old man.”
Adam said, “So, Lucinda, how long have you been married?” He eyed her wedding ring.
“Six years.”
He smirked. “Sorry. I meant happily married.”
She stared into his eyes. They were an interesting shade of blue. “How long were you happily married?”
He laughed. “Touché! Not long, I guess. Hubby out with the boys tonight?”
“He’s out of town on business.”
Adam nodded.
Penny said, “It’s closing in on midnight, Lucinda. We should probably be going.”
Lucinda reached down to the floor for her clutch.
“Come on, girls,” Adam said. “The carriage hasn’t turned into a pumpkin yet. Stick around for a while.
“I really have to be going,” Penny said, standing.
“Lucinda?” Adam put his hand on her bare thigh. A shiver scampered up her back.
“Well…I suppose I could stay a little longer.”
Penny said, “Lucinda, let’s go to the ladies’ room.”
Lucinda stood up and followed her friend. Inside, Penny said, “Lucinda, what are you doing?”
“Having a little fun. Is that a crime?”
“No, but… How will you get home?”
“I have money for a taxi.”
Penny gave her a hard look. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“All right. But be careful. This place is a meat market on weekends.
“Penny, have a little faith in me.”
“I do. Always.”
That made Lucinda’s heart glow.
Penny smiled. “I really do have to pee.”
Lucinda smiled back. “Me, too.”
When they came out, Penny said her goodbyes and Lucinda sat down again between Adam and Randy.
“I gotta get going, too,” Nicole said.
“Come on, Nicole,” Adam said. “The night’s still young.
“Not for me it isn’t. I have to be at work at ten in the morning.”
Adam made a face. “Okay. Go then. You’re banished.” He flicked his fingers at her.
She smiled at him. “See you guys around. Nice to meet you, Lucinda.”
“You, too.”
After she had left, Randy said, “I’m going out for a smoke.”
“I’ll come with you,” Adam said, pushing his chair back.
Lucinda didn’t want to stay there alone. She got up, too.
Outside the back door to the smoking area, Randy pulled a white and gold pack of Marlboro Lights from his tee-shirt pocket and offered Lucinda one.
“No thanks,” she said.
He shook a cigarette out for himself and lit it with a red Bic. He didn’t offer Adam one, and Adam didn’t produce his own pack. Randy had been out here two or three times already, and he had smelled a bit smoky inside, Lucinda thought. This was Adam’s first time out, and she hadn’t noticed any smoky odor coming from him.
“Have you been teaching long?” Adam asked her.
“Six years.”
He smiled. “You look too young to have taught that long.”
“I’m—” She stopped. No need to divulge her age.
“She’s a hot schoolteacher,” Randy said, grinning.
That made Lucinda uncomfortable.
“Randy, give it a break,” Adam said.
Randy shrugged. “Just speaking the truth. Ricky says all the boys in her grade-ten class have a crush on her.”
Adam looked at her with his sea-blue eyes. “Well…I guess I can see why.”
A tingle fluttered in Lucinda’s belly. “I hardly think all the boys have a crush on me,” she said, feeling like she had to defend herself.
“Ricky does,” Randy said.
Lucinda’s cheeks warmed.
“I wouldn’t take it too personal,” Adam told her. “Most sixteen-year-old boys are horndogs. I know I was.”
Lucinda hadn’t heard that word before, but she thought she understood what it meant.
Randy was down to his last few puffs. Adam pulled a loose cigarette and a lighter out of his tee-shirt pocket. The cigarette was thin and twisted at both ends. Lucinda’s stomach clenched. Adam lit it, took a deep drag, and passed it to Randy. Randy took a puff and handed it back. Adam offered it to her.
She had tried marijuana a couple of times in college but it had never done anything for her. “I really shouldn’t.”
Adam exhaled a long plume of exotic-smelling smoke and smiled. “Sure you should. It’s Saturday night and we’re footloose and fancy-free. Time to let the proverbial hair down.”
She liked the way Adam talked, for some reason, the phrases he used, even though they were a bit corny. But he sounded so sincere when he said them that she found his humor charming.
“Well, maybe just one toke,” she said, thinking to impress him with her knowledge of drug terms.
“Atta girl.”
She took a puff and started coughing.
“You gotta get past the old gag reflex,” Adam said. “Have another hit.”
She took a second puff and blew the smoke out.
“You need to hold it in your lungs.”
She sucked in a long haul this time and held it deep
Randy took the joint from her hand and finished it. “This is good shit, man,” he said, his voice sounding strangled as he held his breath.
As Lucinda waited to exhale, she heard a song playing on the jukebox inside—Rascal Flatts, she thought the band was—and got lost in the music.
Life is a highway
I wanna ride it all night long
If you're going my way
I wanna drive it all night long
The sea of stars overhead in the black-purple sky seemed to twinkle in time with the music, as if they were trying to send her a message.
“You can let it out now,” Adam said.
Lucinda looked at him, not understanding. Then she remembered—she had forgotten about the smoke. She exhaled it in a thin gray stream.
“Time for a brewsky,” Randy said, and headed for the door.
Lucinda didn’t notice Adam’s arm around her waist until they were back inside. She was surprised that it didn’t bother her.
They sat down at the table and Randy ordered another pitcher, Lucinda another wine. She now had most definitely lost track of how many glasses she’d had that day, and gave up trying to count.
The dance floor was getting busy as a continuous stream of songs played on the jukebox. Some were current, some oldies. Lucinda listened to them closely as if she had never heard them before—the vocal harmonies, the intricate interweaving of the instruments, the deep bass lines. She recognized a few—Need You Now and Bartender by Lady Antebellum; Alcohol by Brad Paisley—and found herself gently rocking in her chair to the rhythms. When He Stopped Loving Her Today by George Jones started, Adam grabbed her hand and said, “Come on, let’s dance.”
He led her to the floor, took her right hand in his left, and put his right hand on the small of her back. They swayed back and forth slowly, their feet moving in unison. A couple of times she looked into his eyes and thought she saw something—a longing? an affection?—that sent a shiver skittering through her. Somewhere around the middle of the song she noticed that her arms were now draped around Adam’s neck, and both his hands were on her back. She could feel his warm breath in her hair, smell the gingery tang of his cologne. She felt his hands moving down over the top swells of her buttocks, smoothing her sundress onto her cheeks. Their bodies were pressed so close together that she thought she could feel a hardness in his jeans. Her internal temperature had risen to the point where she was feeling a bit faint. When the song ended, Adam held on to her as if he wanted another dance.
“I need a drink,” she said, and returned to the table.
When they got there they found three shot glasses, one in front of each of their spots. There was also a small bowl of lemon wedges and a salt shaker. Randy grinned at them. “Te-kill-ya!” he said.
Lucinda watched the two men lick the webs of their hands between their thumbs and forefingers and then sprinkle salt on the wet skin. Randy raised his shot glass and said, “To the prettiest schoolteacher at Hanover High.”
Adam clinked his glass to Randy’s. “Here, here.”
They licked the salt off their hands and brought the shot glasses to their mouths.
Lucinda took a small sip of the clear liquor. Her face puckered and a heavy shiver rippled up her spine. It felt almost like an orgasm. She looked at Adam and Randy and saw that they had downed their shots in one gulp and were now sucking on lemon wedges.
Adam smiled at her. “You can’t let that stuff live in your mouth long enough to hit your taste buds. Pound ’er back.”
The last thing she wanted to do was put more of the vile liquid in her mouth, although the semi-orgasm had been nice. Adam and Randy stared at her expectantly, and finally she raised the shot glass to her mouth, tipped her head back, and chugged it. Another paroxysm seized her body.
“Quick, suck on this,” Adam said, holding out a lemon wedge.
She squeezed the juice into her mouth, and remarkably the pungent taste disappeared.
“Good, huh?” Randy said, grinning.
She shivered again in a little aftershock. “Different.”
Things around her seemed different as well. In the dimly lit room, the lights of the jukebox appeared to be emanating from it like wide laser beams—reds and blues and yellows. The faces of the people at the tables around them looked a little distorted—wavy—and the sounds of the noisy bar seemed to fade to low and then surge to high again.
“I need some fresh air,” she said.
“I’ll come with you,” Adam said.
They went out the back door to the smoking area, and she looked up at the stars and took deep breaths.
“It’s that tequila,” he said. “It’s like a separate stone unto itself. I don’t know why Randy always does that.”
She looked at him and smirked. “He didn’t force us to drink it.”
“No, he didn’t.”
Gazing up into the night sky again, she didn’t notice that Adam had started another joint until he grunted, “Here,” and held it out to her.
She hesitated. She was already high enough, but for some reason she wanted to stay on the same plane as Adam, be on the same wavelength, in the same world.
She had just taken a toke when the back door opened. Their server stuck her head out and said, “Adam, you know you can’t smoke that shit here.”
“Sorry.” He took Lucinda’s hand. “Come on,”
He led her around to the side parking area and opened the passenger door of an older-model gray Silverado pickup. He helped her step up into the cab, then went around and climbed in the driver’s side. He still had the joint in his hand, and offered it to her. As she took a puff he turned the ignition key halfway and flipped the radio to a C&W station. Alan Jackson was singing Livin’ on Love. Lucinda handed him back the joint and exhaled.
“Have you ever tried a shotgun?” he said.
She didn’t know what that was. “No.”
“Come over here a bit closer.”
She was surprised that the pickup had a bench seat rather than buckets. But then she never rode in pickup trucks. As she shifted nearer, Adam pulled a lever on the steering column and raised the steering wheel. “Okay,” he said. “I’m going to take a hit, and when I do, you bring your face close to mine and open your mouth.”
It sounded funny, but she didn’t want to rock the boat. “All right”
He sucked on the joint and tilted toward her. She scooted a little closer and leaned her face in. He blew the smoke out in a hard stream into her mouth. Reflexively, she inhaled it until her lungs felt like they might burst.
“Hold it in, hold it in,” he said.
She did, closing her eyes to concentrate on the task, her body feeling light, as if she were weightless. Finally she couldn’t hold it any longer, and blew the smoke out. She opened her eyes to see Adam looking at her.
“Well?” he said.
“It was…intense.”
He grinned. “An old hippie trick.”
Her mouth felt dry, and she licked her tongue over her lips. Adam seemed to focus on it, and suddenly he was kissing her. She pressed her hands to his shoulders to push him away, but they seemed to melt into him. His tongue teased her lips, then dipped inside her mouth, rolling, playing. It felt like it was everywhere, all at once. She swirled her own tongue against it, and Adam pulled back a bit and sucked on it. When she returned the favor, his hand found her breast and squeezed.
She was so turned-on she could feel her vagina misting. As Adam’s tongue twirled and twisted in her mouth, she began to think she might have an orgasm just from kissing.
She felt his hand on the back of her neck, and before she knew what was happening, he pushed her head down. She was shocked to see his hand gripping a very hard penis. She started to object, but before she could, his penis wedged between her lips and lodged inside her mouth.
He groaned. “Oh fuck, Lucinda, that feels great.”
She was surprised at that. Not at the “F” word (she wasn’t that naïve), but that he sounded so appreciative. She had never had a penis in her mouth before—had never sucked cock—so she found it a little odd that he thought she was a doing a good job. He helped her along, moving her head up and down with his hands, lifting his hips a bit on her downstrokes. What she had seen of his penis had looked nice—not huge but a decent length, and circumcised like Bob’s. For some reason she found herself wanting to please him, and started massaging her tongue against it while bobbing her head. She brought her hand up from her side and replaced his around the base of the shaft, and as she sucked, she started moving her hand up and down his length, squeezing it.
In her twisted position she felt uncomfortable, so she brought her legs up onto the bench seat and got on her knees. That was better. With her angle of attack improved, she started moving her mouth faster, up and down, her fist around Adam’s penis following behind.
He moaned, combing his fingers through her short blonde hair. “Jesus, Lucinda, you do that so good.”
The cab’s interior light came on.
“Shut the fucking door, Randy!” Adam barked.
Lucinda tried to look behind her but she couldn’t move her head with Adam’s hands on it. She raised her eyes to the driver’s-side window and saw Randy’s image reflected in the glass. He took something out of his mouth—a wad of gum, she thought—and pressed it against a spot on the interior door frame. The dome light went out.
She felt her dress being lifted up over her hips, the crotch of her panties being pulled to one side. She tried to say “No!” but it came out as “Nnmph!” around Adam’s penis.
“I just want a taste,” Randy said, and then his tongue was sliding up between her labia.
“Nnmph!” she muttered again, trying to shift her butt away. Randy grabbed her hips and held them steady, licking through her folds and flicking her clitoris with his tongue.
As Adam’s penis continued to surge into her mouth, a fluttery tremble began in her belly and quickly spread.
“Fuck, she tastes good,” Randy said, and then seemed to suck her entire vagina into his mouth. A spike of pleasure careened through her body, making her moan around Adam’s penis.
“She’s a good cocksucker, too,” Adam said.
It was strange hearing herself being discussed in the third person, as if she weren’t there. But in spite of that she found the men’s comments thrilling, and an odd sense of pride bloomed inside her.
Adam’s penis felt even bigger in her mouth now, and she was surprised she hadn’t gagged yet. It was definitely hitting her throat. But it felt natural, wonderful. She could taste something, too—salty-sweet, a bit coconutty—semen, she thought, though she was sure Adam hadn’t climaxed yet—hadn’t come, as some of the wives said in their lewd jokes at neighborhood get-togethers. She had seen Bob’s condoms after he came, the large volume of viscous goo in the reservoir tip, and she knew she hadn’t swallowed that much of Adam’s. It totally surprised her—shocked her, actually—that she found the taste pleasant. Whenever her friends had talked about swallowing their husbands’ loads, she had always made a face and almost gagged. But it wasn’t anywhere near as repulsive as she’d thought it might be. In fact, it tasted nice. Very nice.
Another jolt of pleasure shot through her as Randy’s whole tongue seemed to push into her vagina. She began to tremble, her buttocks shimmying in Randy’s hands.
“I think she’s coming,” he said.
“I’m almost there myself,” Adam grunted.
Was she coming? Was this what it felt like? She had to admit she had never felt so good in her life. Her whole body seemed to be quaking, waves of pleasure undulating through it in a continuous flow. Her clitoris was so sensitive that each time Randy’s tongue touched it she felt like she might rocket out of her skin.
Randy’s hands left her hips, and he hunched over her back. “I gotta get me a little piece of this.”
She felt something hard stab into her vagina. It was his penis! His prick! He was fucking her!
“Nnmph!” she cried again around Adam’s cock. She thrashed about, trying to dislodge Randy’s penis from inside her. He gripped her waist and started pounding her deep. His penis felt big—huge—and each time he punched it into her, it seemed to be fighting for space in her throat with Adam’s cock. That was impossible, she knew, but she had never felt so full, so stuffed in her life.
As Adam continued fucking her mouth, she found herself pushing her buttocks back at Randy, trying to get more of his big prick inside her. It was embarrassing—she didn’t want to do it, but she seemed powerless to stop.
“Fuck, this pussy’s tight,” Randy said, and Adam’s cock jumped in her mouth. She tried again to lift her head, but Adam’s hand was now wrapped in her hair, moving her face up and down on his pole.
She felt her left shoulder strap sliding down, and then Randy’s calloused hand was squeezing her naked breast. His thrusts grew harder, deeper, and he started kissing her bare back and trailing his tongue over the flesh. Goosebumps popped up everywhere, all over her body.
A cyclone of pleasure began whirling in her vagina, expanding rapidly outward. She thrust her ass back harder against Randy’s cock, her mouth now slurping crazily on Adam’s meat.
“Fuck!” Randy shouted, and froze inside her. It felt like a water balloon exploded in her vagina. Tremors crashed through her body in wave after heart-pounding wave. Randy began humping her with short, vicious jerks of his hips, and she felt more hot, hard bullets of semen ricochet off her inner walls.
Adam’s hips started bucking like a rodeo cowboy’s. He twisted her hair in his hands. “Oh shit, baby, here it comes!”
A warm torrent of thick, salty cream blasted into her mouth. She couldn’t believe the volume, and had to gulp it down so she wouldn’t choke. His cock continued to pulse, firing heavy, hard shots. It was a chore to keep up.
She felt Randy’s cock leave her pussy, and then Adam released his hair. She squeezed her fist up his shaft, milking out another large dollop of semen. She licked it off and swallowed, swirled her tongue around the glans, and slowly raised her head. She put her feet back on the floor of the cab and sat up, replacing her shoulder strap and straightening her sundress. Randy sat beside the open passenger door, his head lolled back against the headrest. She looked at Adam and saw an admiration, a fondness in his eyes that made her heart clench.
“That was fantastic, Lucinda,” he said.
“Thank you.” It was a lame reply, she knew, but she had no idea what proper etiquette dictated when discussing one’s performance with a man whose penis has just ejaculated in your mouth.
Suddenly the magnitude of what she had done broke through her foggy mind, and guilt washed over her like a waterfall, saturating her soul. Her earlier idle taunting with herself about trolling had been just that—empty talk. She hadn’t planned to do this, to have sex with these men—to suck and fuck them. But…she wasn’t actually the one who had done it, was she? They had done it to her. While it didn’t feel like rape, had it really been consensual?
Adam leaned toward her and kissed her, his tongue again swirling with hers. She sucked it as he squeezed her breast through her dress once more.
Would a woman kiss her rapist? she wondered, and then dismissed the thought. She hadn’t been raped, she knew that. After all, she had jerked on Adam’s cock while she sucked him, had swallowed his load, had even squeezed the last drop of semen out of his shaft and licked it off. No, she had fellated him willingly, had made love to his prick. And yet what had happened didn’t feel totally consensual.
And Randy? That felt different, a little more as if she’d been violated. But she couldn’t deny that she had jammed her ass back at him to try to get more of his long bone inside her. And the orgasm she had experienced on his cock had been the most powerful one of her life. When he exploded in her pussy, her insides felt like they melted, mingling with his cream.
His cream. His sperm.
Her drug-hazed brain suddenly registered the fact—he hadn’t worn a condom! Ricky Gillespie’s father had fucked her and come inside her!
An eerie, distorted vision of a baby—with half her features and half Ricky’s—filled her mind. She began to tremble, felt sick.
“Can you give me a ride home, Adam?”
He seemed hesitant. “Where do you live?”
She told him the general area.
“Gee, I don’t know, Lucinda. That’s quite a drive, and I’m blasted. I can’t afford to get stopped by the cops. Besides, I didn’t get around to buying gas after work. I’m running on fumes, and there’s no stations open around here this late. Why don’t you come back to my place? I just live around the corner. I’ll get some gas in the morning and take you home then.”
She was angry at that. After what she had done for him, surely a lift home wasn’t inappropriate payment.
Payment? What was she thinking? That made her sound like a whore, a common prostitute.
“Thanks, but I can take a taxi.” She looked around the floor of the cab. “Where’s my purse?”
“Your purse? I haven’t seen it. Did you leave it inside?”
Lucinda’s stomach dropped. She couldn’t remember the last time she had it. “I don’t know.”
“Let’s go check.”
They went in and looked all around the table where they had sat, searched the back smoking area, and asked the server who had waited on them. Nothing.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Lucinda,” Adam said.
As he settled his tab, she wondered what she should do. She had to get home.
“Do you think you could lend me cab fare, Adam? Twenty, twenty-five dollars?”
He pulled his wallet back out of his hip pocket again and thumbed it open. Only four dollar-bills remained. He looked sheepish. “Sorry. Payday’s not till next week.”
“Maybe Randy—” she started, but Adam shook his head.
“He’s flat broke. I bought all the drinks tonight.”
She looked around the barroom at the faces there. She didn’t recognize any. Adam probably knew some of the people, but she couldn’t very well ask him to borrow money just so he could re-lend it to her.
“Was your house key in your purse?” he asked.
Shit! She hadn’t thought of that. Even if she could get home, how would she get in? Penny had a spare key, but she and Greg would be in bed by now, and Lucinda didn’t want to wake them to come and pick her up. In her current state she didn’t even want them to see her.
“Come back to my place,” Adam said. “We can check here again in the morning, after I gas up. Maybe it’ll turn up by then.”
She looked at him suspiciously. “How are you going to gas up with four dollars?”
He seemed perturbed at the question. “I have a company credit card. I use my truck on the job.”
“Oh,” she said, feeling foolish. There was no other solution. “Well…okay.”
He grinned. “Great. I’d buy you another drink but…”
“I know,” she said.
They went back out to the truck. Randy was asleep, the passenger door still open. Adam had to wake him to move him over. “You crashing at my place tonight, big guy?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Randy said, groggy, eyes half-closed.
Lucinda didn’t like the thought of that. “Do you have a house, Adam?”
“An apartment.”
“Two bedrooms?”
“One.”
She eyed him warily.
“Randy and I can take the bed. You can sleep on the couch,” he said, as if reading her mind.
That made her feel a little better.
Adam picked up a small stick off the tarmac and pried off the gum Randy had stuck to the white button on the interior door frame that controlled the inside light. Lucinda got in the cab beside Randy, and Adam went to the driver’s door.
The ride was short. Adam did live just around the block. Lucinda wondered why he had bothered driving to Laredo Slim’s at all.
Adam managed to rouse Randy, and the three of them walked into a three-story red-brick building. Adam’s apartment was in the basement level, a bit messy, with dirty dishes stacked in the kitchen sink, an empty pizza box on a coffee table in front of a grungy-looking brown corduroy sofa. The laminate floor looked like it hadn’t been swept in a while, and hadn’t been washed in a longer while. A few pieces of clothing lay strewn about—a pair of black boxer shorts, a grease-stained white tee-shirt. The whole atmosphere made Lucinda cringe. A small television set sat on a red plastic milk crate against the wall, under a window. The only other furniture in the room was a rough-looking rust-colored easy chair.
It was cold down here, much colder than outside, and Lucinda wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the chill.
Adam helped Randy into the bedroom and came back out. “You ready to hit the sack or you want to watch some TV?”
“I’m tired,” she said. “But I am thirsty. Do you have anything to drink?”
Adam gave her an apologetic look. “No booze. Just water. Sorry.”
She didn’t need any more booze, that was for sure. She still felt higher than Snoop Dogg on party night. “Water’s fine.”
Adam rinsed a glass from the sink and filled it from the tap.
“Thanks,” she said. She gulped it down as if she hadn’t drunk in weeks. A shiver icicled down her spine. “Do you have an extra blanket, Adam?”
He shook his head with that same apologetic look. “Sorry. I’ve just got one, and Randy’s got himself wrapped up in it like a mummy.”
“A pillow?”
“Sure.” He went into the bedroom and returned with one, sans slipcover. “You can use mine.”
“I can’t take yours.”
“It’s no problem.”
They stood there looking at each for a few moments. “Well, goodnight,” Adam said.
“Goodnight.”
He flicked the wall light-switch off and went into the bedroom.
Lucinda lay down on the sofa. She tried to get comfortable but she was freezing. She rubbed her arms and legs to warm them, but as soon as she moved on to the next one, the previous one was cold again. She curled into a ball, legs drawn up to her chest, arms hugging herself. She nodded in and out of sleep but kept dreaming about being in Antarctica wearing a bikini. She tossed and turned for what seemed like hours until finally she broke down—she would have to go and crawl in bed with Adam and Randy to share their blanket and try to absorb some of their body heat.
When she went into the bedroom, she saw that at least the bed was a queen-size. It was pushed against the far side of the room, with Randy almost hugging the wall, an edge of green blanket over him. Adam was in the middle and had managed to snag some of the blanket for himself. He was lying on his back, snoring gently. Lucinda tiptoed over, lifted the blanket, and eased down beside him. He was naked except for boxer shorts, so she kept her distance and tried to pull the blanket toward her a bit so she could have a piece, but she didn’t end up with much. Shivering, she edged her body toward Adam’s until she was pressed against his side, facing him. At this closer distance she was now able to get the blanket over her shoulder. Slowly her body began to warm, all except for her feet. They were still freezing, but she didn’t want to warm them on Adam’s legs for fear of waking him. Reasonably toasty for the moment, she fell asleep.
Her dreams were not peaceful. Memories of her infidelity plagued her. The irreconcilable emotions were torment—guilt for cheating on Bob, but also extremely satisfying pleasure. The dream would start with her sucking Adam’s cock and Randy fucking her, and she would feel exhilarated, wonderful. But then the dream would morph to flickering motion-picture images of Bob fucking the brunette from the Propensa Hotel, of him eating her pussy, her sucking his cock, and night terrors would seize her mind. She would wake with a start, slowly drift off again, and the visions would begin anew.
She was dreaming about Adam kissing her, his tongue teasing her lips, when she opened her eyes. Adam’s face loomed above hers. He was kissing her. His hand was on her breast, gently squeezing. She noticed that her dress and panties were gone. She was naked against him, moaning, her hips rolling in sympathy with his tongue in her mouth. His fingers found the cleft of her vagina and began stroking through the folds. She could feel herself juicing around them, and was embarrassed at her body’s treachery. When his thumb pressed against her clitoris and started moving in a slow circle, she groaned and hunched her hips up, trying to increase the pressure.
Adam gazed down at her, softness in his eyes. “Give me your tongue,” he said.
She slithered it into his mouth and swirled it around, and her body exploded into full-blown convulsions. “Oh God!” she moaned, twisting and thrashing, an avalanche of pleasure crashing through her. Still diddling her clit, Adam squeezed two fingers inside her and began fucking her with them. Her hips jerked off the bed, grinding in furious circles. After what seemed like minutes, the tremors finally subsided and she sank back down.
Adam kissed her softly. “Do you want me to fuck you, Lucinda?”
This was the turning point, she knew. Until now she had been able to tell herself that perhaps none of this had been her fault. That she had just been an unlucky bystander caught up in a whirlwind of happenstance. That it was possible—not probable, perhaps, but at least possible—that everything that had happened thus far had been non-consensual, against her will. But if she continued…
She stared up into Adam’s amazing blue eyes. “Yes,” she said. “Fuck me.”
He kissed her again and rolled on top of her, his penis rigid against her mons. “Put me inside you,” he said.
She reached between them and grasped his penis. It felt so warm, so smooth, so hard. Adam raised his hips and she threaded the head into her slot. He lowered himself down and pressed upward, and his penis slid inside her to the hilt.
“Oh God, Adam,” she moaned, “you feel so good.”
“Your pussy’s so tight, Lucinda.”
He fucked her slowly, rolling his hips from side to side and up and down. He did feel good inside her. His penis seemed to fill her completely, every tiny nook and cranny. He dipped his face down and kissed her again, moving his tongue in her mouth in sync with the gyrations of his hips. Lucinda wanted all of him, she wanted his body to meld with hers, to become one. She hooked her ankles behind his thighs and held him tightly, moving her hips with his, slightly off-beat so hers were ascending when his were coming down.
When he ended the kiss, she looked up at him and said shyly, “Can I put my tongue in your mouth again, Adam?”
He smiled. “I’d love that.”
She traced the outline of his lips first, flicking her tongue over them teasingly, then squeezed it between his lips and into his mouth. She skimmed his palate, probed the insides of his cheeks, played flirting games with his tongue. He wrapped his arms around her and rolled onto his back, their mouths still joined, his cock still imbedded in her pussy. Lucinda was concerned to be so close to Randy, and flicked her eyes over. He was still asleep. She straightened up on her knees over Adam and started moving up and down, forward and back. She had never made love in this position before—cowgirl, she thought it was called—and discovered she liked it. It gave her a feeling of control, of power, as if she were fucking Adam and not he her. She had been fairly passive till now, just accepting what was being done to her, but in this new position she took on the role of aggressor, bouncing hard on Adam’s cock, trying to get every last millimeter inside her. Each time she came down on it, she ground her pussy around on the base, the sensations against her clit a sweet intoxicating pleasure. He put his hands on her hips, then slid them up her back and pulled her down toward him. When she was close enough, he latched onto her right breast with his mouth, his tongue flailing the nipple.
“Oh God,” she breathed. “Yes. Suck my tits.”
He switched to her left one, laving it thoroughly, sucking and nibbling on the flesh. He pulled her down lower for a kiss, and as their tongues dueled again she was surprised to feel his finger moving over her anus. It felt wet and sticky, and she wondered why. When it slid into her ass she tore her face back and said, “No, Adam, please!” Her eyes darted over to Randy. He was gone! She looked behind her and was shocked to see him in a crouch, his right hand gripping his penis, the forefinger of his left hand in her butt.
“Randy, I can’t,” she said. “Please, don’t.”
Grinning, he pulled his finger out and spat on her anus.
“Randy, no!” she cried, but then Adam yanked her down again and wedged his tongue in her mouth. She felt a hard pressure, and then a terrible pain. She wrenched her mouth away from Adam’s and twisted her head around. “Please, Randy, no!” She was dismayed to see that only his cockhead was in her ass. It had felt like she had taken the whole thing.
Adam pulled her down again and hugged her tight to his chest, whispering, “Shhh, shhh,” in her ear.
“Adam, I can’t—!”
“It’ll be okay. Just relax. Go with the flow.”
Go with the flow? Lucinda thought. The flow always goes down. Down the drain. Into the gutter.
Randy gripped her waist, his nails digging in like talons. With a bull-like grunt he lunged forward, and Lucinda’s brain seemed to explode. Showers of sparks flooded her vision and her whole body seized. The pain was incredible, horrible, unrelenting. Randy fucked her ass hard, his pelvis slapping against her butt cheeks. Each time he buried his cock inside her she thought she might vomit. Adam’s hips were rolling under her, his cock slicing in and out of her pussy. Randy leaned over her back and grabbed her breasts, squeezing them, pinching the nipples. The pain—the pleasure—was unbearable, and Lucinda feared she might pass out.
“I’m close,” Randy grunted, pummeling her hard.
“Me too,” Adam said. “Come for us, Lucinda. Come on our cocks.”
“Oh God,” she whimpered, her face pinched in despair. Could she actually come like this? The sensations were so different, so confusing—Nirvana and Hell all jumbled together. Then she felt it—a tingling in her pussy, a flutter in her belly. Her orgasm rattled through her like a freight train, rocking her to the core. Her body shook uncontrollably, her breasts bouncing in Randy’s hands. Moans leaked from her mouth in an endless stream.
“Fuck!” Randy cried, and it felt like a liquid bomb exploded in her rectum.
Adam pulled her head down and stuck his tongue in her mouth again, his hips driving hard up off the bed. “Jesus, Lucinda,” he moaned. “You’re making me come.”
She felt his semen shoot into her, a geyser of wet warmth drenching her womb. Both men continued fucking her with short strokes, rocking her body between them. Despite her earlier chill, sweat now streamed off of her in rivulets. The musky smell of sex filled her nostrils.
Randy collapsed onto her back, panting hard. She could feel his penis still pulsing in her ass. Adam was gasping for air, too, his eyes closed, his left arm draped over them. “That was fucking intense,” he said.
“Fucking right,” Randy agreed. With his hand on her head, he turned Lucinda’s face to his and shoved his tongue in her mouth. It tasted smoky, stale, and she almost gagged. But she recovered quickly, and wiggled her own tongue against his.
“You are so fucking hot,” he said.
He rolled off of her and onto his back. Adam turned onto his side toward him, and Lucinda fell between them. They pulled the blanket up and snuggled against her, fondling her breasts and kissing her cheeks. She could feel their semen leaking out of her, wetting the bed beneath her. She felt dirty, cheap.
She closed her eyes and tried to forget what had happened, but it kept coming back, punishing her brain. She felt close to tears, but she didn’t want to cry, not with these men beside her. Still drunk and stoned, she watched the shadows moving in the room, taking on form and then dissolving.
