“Why don't you take off your coat and try, Mr. Riggs?” I said softly, standing up and walking toward the bar, “Would you like some scotch… or bourbon? Brandy?”
“Scotch, please,” he requested, removing his overcoat and jacket and loosening his tie. “And call me, Charley, Denise. I may just be an old fool and doing the wrong… stupid thing, but I haven't had anyone to talk to in years. I want to tell you everything, Denise. Can I?”
“Of course, you can,” I told him, bringing over our drinks, “Do you mind if I get into something more comfortable?”
I ran upstairs and took off my blouse, skirt and half slip, then put on a robe and slippers, coming back down immediately to find that Charley had drained his glass and was just staring off into space. He was a lonely man and I felt genuinely sorry for him. After I fixed him another drink and sat curled up at his feet, he began to talk and talk and talk, running his fingers through my hair tenderly as he did so.
It was a most unusual monologue, a confessional as much as anything else. The personal intimacy of it was certainly not conducive to normal romantic aims, but I guess he had picked the right person to tell it to. I can recall just about every word he said after he got over the sometimes boring preliminaries of his childhood and first years of marriage:
“Lucille is a good woman, I suppose. But how can a 'good' woman be a good sex partner? She was never that, Denise. My most pleasurable sex experiences have been when I thought about you… and masturbated.
“Seven years, Denise. That's a long time for a man to go without sex. I often wondered what I would do, how I would act, had you been more… friendly, say invited me in and allowed me to do more than just kiss you. I would worry about it, wondering if I could… would be so afraid and the experience so strange, that I might be potent.
“I'm 55 years old, Denise. I realize I have little to offer a woman in return. Money is out of the question. It would spoil the relationship.
“I… I've not had a sex relation in seven years, and only before that with a frigid piece of ice… what can I offer a woman who has sex with different men all the time, with young men who are virile lovers?”
“Sex… isn't everything, Charley,” I said very slowly and affectionately, looking up into is eyes.
“Oh… you misunderstood me before, Denise,” he looked down at me rather pitifully, eyes searching for understanding. “Sex… is very important… very important to me. I only meant that there had to be more than just a body for me to admire. The most physically perfect female in the world can be sexless. There must be a personality, a human and lovable and warm person behind it. And there is that one element that begs for an explanation, that of attraction. I am… attracted to you, Denise… always have been. How foolish for me to dream when I have nothing to offer you. I want to love you. I want to love you sexually, but I have nothing to offer you.”
“Are you afraid of being impotent?” I asked him softly, but frankly.
“Yes… very much so,” he admitted, hiding his face in his hands, “I should be very… very aroused here with you like this. I can't..
“And you still want to make love with me?”
“Yes… very much so.”
“Charley?” I said with a question mark, letting my robe fall open, “I think you're trying to tell me something. You know you can't shock me. Tell me… how do you want to make love with me?”
“Something… I want to do; I've never done before, Denise,” he explained, clearing his throat loudly, his hands trembling as he drained his glass for the third time. “Denise, I want to suck your vagina! Yes! I want to put my head in between your legs and lick and suck your organs. I know… I know I can't bring you pleasure any other way. But that's not it… no. Since… the first time I saw you, this has been my vision, my ideal dream…
“I have masturbated so many… many times imagining that I am sucking your vagina. Oh, and not only your vagina, Denise. Now… I know that these things are not supposed to be normal, but I have read… much about them. I think, maybe you can understand, Denise…”
“Yes… yes, Charley,” I assured him, putting up one leg so that my robe fell away to expose my crotch in only the sheer nylon briefs, “Oh, I understand so perfectly well and if you think you don't have anything to offer me, darling, you are so wrong. I… I am very hot, Charley… very hot just listening to you.”
“I want to suck your… you all over,” he blurted out with some difficulty, and then he could contain himself no longer.
The pent up lust of a lifetime was suddenly and violently unleashed. Charley's big body fell to the floor beside me with a thud and he pushed his head blindly between my legs, licking and sucking at my crotch through the panties as best he could. His hands reached for breasts and tore the straps of my bra. He held the breasts in his hand, squeezing them.
His movements were cumbersome and totally unsophisticated. He was satisfying himself and nothing more. Of course, I let him have free reign. I tore open the crotch of my panties and felt his mouth and tongue slobbering at my vulva. He was like a man possessed, straining to get his mouth all over me down there, grunting, whining, groaning, and muttering almost unintelligible words.
And then it began working on me too. The fact that Charley was going almost out of his mind because of his sexual obsession with me tended to fuel my own passions. I began to work at his clothes to get them off. I was curious about his impotency. I had an intense desire to see him naked, although I knew he was fat and certainly not ideally attractive.
Charley had a big belly and his flesh was slick and flabby. But I enjoyed feeling it. I lay back on the floor and let him kiss my body all over. He licked my legs and belly, and his mouth closed over my nipples and sucked so hard it was almost too much to bear. It was a mixture of pain and pleasure.
It got better and better for me, yet I wanted more of a direct contact with my clitoris. He was too sloppy and awkward to bring me the climaxes I wanted. But that should be the least of my worries, I realized. The important thing was to please him and let him have access to me in whatever way he wished.
I saw his penis for the first time when he turned me back over and began to go down on me again. He was completely impotent. I managed to get it in my mouth and went to work, sucking it hard until I could feel its length stretch in my mouth. I threw my arm around his buttocks to steady him, and I began to suck harder.
Suddenly, I became aware that I was on the verge of orgasm. He had hit the right spot, and I paused in my own manipulations long enough to tell him to keep doing it right there. At almost the same time, as it became obvious to him that I was having orgasms, his penis began to swell.
I continued to work on him, hoping to bring it up to full erection, but he started to come before either of us were ready. I took it all from him before he rolled off of me and came up to hold me in his arms. He was out of breath, but he had to talk to me.
“Denise… oh, damn, Denise! I… I knew I couldn't do it. I wanted to do it right so very much. I wanted to have a great big hard on and give it to you like a young man… but… I'm not a young man… any more…”
“It's been a long time, Charley… a long time,” I told him, patting his head and shoulders, “You'll do better. I'll make you do better. We have a long time to practice. How often can you see me, Charlie? I need a lot of loving…!”
“My… kind of loving?”
“Yes, Charley,” I whispered in his ear, pressing my breasts into him, “I like it when you suck me… you satisfy me completely…”
Charley became a real problem after that. Within two months, his lovemaking had returned to normal and he was as active as a man 20 years younger, at least. But he was possessive, and he was madly in love with me, insanely jealous. Charley bought me hundreds of dollars worth of clothes and jewelry. At the beginning of summer, he bought me a brand new convertible and said that he wanted Kathy and me to really enjoy it when she came for her visit.
The real crisis arrived when he told me one night that he had asked his wife for a divorce so he could marry me. I almost panicked. Charley was certainly not the kind of man I would ever want to be married to. He was capable of satisfying me, but no one man could ever keep me satisfied for long. The very idea of it was ridiculous. I had only been seeing him once every week or two, and the reason for that was obvious — so I could keep my job. No job, however, would have been worth a marriage to Charley Riggs.
I really felt sorry for the man. He was such a pitiful sight as his big fat body lay naked in the bed next to mine, and he talked so happily and animatedly about his plans, and how he had broken it to his wife:
