He was very pleased with my performance, and he asked me frankly whether I would consider making a second film for him. I said no, feeling that I had explored the possibilities of that kind of experience as fully as I was able. I saw no sense in repeating the same thing over if it didn't open to me any other possible avenues of experimentation. That would be doing it solely for the money, and that simply was no motivation enough for me.
I was surprised, however, when he did offer me a new possibility of experience. 'I throw parties,' he said, 'for some of my very special friends and clients, and I am in constant need of new… entertainment for these parties.' 'What kind of parties?' I asked.
He thought for a moment. 'Intimate parties,' he answered cryptically. 'Would you care to be a part of this entertainment, my dear?'
He was talking about my performing in a live sex show, in front of an audience of men and women. I considered this for a long while, and honestly, I found myself fascinated by the prospect of doing something as… perverted, as daring as performing sexually for an audience. Unlike the films, I could gauge the immediate response of those people watching me. I could hear how they reacted to me. I could see how they were responding to my getting fucked for their voyeuristic pleasure.
And yet, there seemed to be even one more positive incentive. Doing something like this is as far from being a suburban housewife as I could possibly imagine. It was at the other end of human experiences, at the other end of life's spectrum. Another new experience, another horizon, something new to explore, to see if it could possibly satisfy the restless urge, the nagging dissatisfaction, the empty hole in my life.
What could I say to him? The only answer I could have possibly given: of course I would do it.
J went to his house again, at night, and I was led to another room in the mansion. There I met another woman and three other men. Together, we were the performers. We smoked some marijuana and drank some wine to break the ice and get us in the mood, and we were led out onto a stage. The curtain went up, and out before us was an audience of men and women, all as naked as we were. Our stage performance began, and I got fucked in every possible position by every possible man, sometimes taking on two or the three at once. I even was fucked up the ass by the woman. She strapped on a dildo, and while she was fucking me in the ass, she was
being fucked in the ass by one of the three men. I must have come twenty or thirty times during the course of the night, and my body was completely soaked with sperm, sweat and the slimy discharge of cuntal juices.
The night ended as an orgy-my first real orgy- when the men and women of the audience climbed onto the stage and joined in with us. There was fucking and sucking going on all over the place, everywhere you looked. It was the wildest night of my life.
I retired from prostitution after that night. My cunt, inside the canal, was literally raw from the friction of all that fucking. I bled for a week afterwards, and couldn't fuck for another month without sharp, burning pain.
Still, I didn't mind, and it didn't cost me anything. I was paid twenty-five hundred dollars for that night, and was given another five hundred dollar bonus from Mr. Burroughs for film rights to the performance and orgy. All the while we were 'working,' he had a full crew of cameramen, Lance included, capturing the whole night on film.
J wasn't sorry, really when I left this world of open sexuality. I had tried it, experienced it, but like everything else, it paled under a close examination. The edge, the sharp edge of intense pleasure simply was no longer there. I had done everything you could /possibly do sexually. There was no further challenge in it. It got to the point where-and I know this is going to sound strange-but it really did get to the point where sex became… boring.
So, as has been my practice in the past, I moved on. My body needed a rest, I had money, security, a good place to live; now all I needed was a little time. Time to think, -time to sort out a new direction, to see where my life would lead me this time.
I had reached the bottom, in a sense, I realized. I'd sort of sunk to a low point… to the point at which I had been willing to perform sexually for an audience, for pay. There was no way to go now other than up. Happiness simply wasn't there. I know: I tried it all.
So it was strange that at this point in my life I should have met someone like Rick Tanner. Fated, I guess would be a better word. Destined.
I met Rick through my job. After the month or so was over after the orgy at Burrough's house, I decided to try working again. I still had my old skills as a secretary, and I got a job working for a law firm, much like my first job after I had graduated from college. The money wasn't bad, certainly not as much as I had been making, but it was a nice change of pace. The men were interested in other things than fucking you. They treated you like a person and not like a cunt. Even the women were fascinatingly unique. They were so petty, so bitchy, with such little, small human problems, like what to cook for dinner or where to go on vacation. It was like a breath of fresh air, and I savored the freshness of this old, new world.
Rick didn't work for my company. He was an insurance agent, working for one of the largest insurance companies in the United States. My boss was a policy holder, and Rick came to the office to make some kind of adjustment in the policy. We got to talking, and he asked me out. I felt flattered. It was my first date in ten or twelve years.
I went out with Rick that night. It was nothing special. He picked me up at my apartment, we went out to dinner, then to a local movie, and had coffee later. We didn't make love that first date, although I did let him loss me goodnight. We didn't make love until after the fourth or fifth date, and then when we did, for some strange reason, I began to cry, as if I were a virgin again. Rick comforted me in his arms, stroking my hair. He told me he loved me. He told me he caredJror me very much. He said he respected me for making love to him, for it showed him how warm, how human I was; how much I cared for him.
We went out several times after that, although I never allowed him to make love to me. We kissed heavily, petted, and once he fingered me to orgasm, but never full, naked sexual intercourse.
Until tonight Rick was coming over tonight, and-he said he had something very special to tell me. I could guess what it was.
The doorbell rang, and I made some last minute touches in the mirror. 'Just a moment,' I shouted.
I rushed to the door. Rick was standing there, smiling. He had one hand hidden behind his back.
'Here, Sally,' he said. He brought his hand out from behind his back. There was a bouquet of long-stemmed roses. 'For you.'
I grabbed the roses from his hand and crushed them to my breast. It had been so long since anyone had bothered to bring me flowers.
'They're… beautiful,' I said softly, strangely close to tears. I hugged the flowers and sniffed at their perfume. 'They're beautiful, Rick. Beautiful.' 'They're for a beautiful woman,' he said simply.
I blushed and my head spun. I closed the door, and together, with his arm through mine, Rick and I walked into the living room. Rick sat on the sofa.
Til put these in water,' I said. Til be back in a second. Why don't you fix yourself a drink.'
Til fix you one too,' he said. 'I want to celebrate tonight, Sally.'
I stared at him curiously before I turned. My stomach fluttered and I felt light-headed and giddy. I had champagne in my blood, and it was going to my head. The smallest anticipatory twinge gripped my cunt, but I pushed the thought away from my awareness. If it's going to happen, I told myself, then let it happen naturally.
I smiled at Rick. He was gloriously handsome. Tall, dark wavy hair, jet black eyes, and a quick easy smile. His tan was so dark he almost looked like a Latin, and that somhow excited me. I wondered if he had hot, passionate blood. He reminded me oЈ someone, but it bothered me that I couldn't place who it was. Maybe someone from my… other life. He was thirty-two, the same age as Peter, and he had his whole life before him.
'Hey,' he said, smiling at me. 'You better put those in water instead of standing there and mooning over them. You're dripping them all over the floor.'
I flushed, then laughed. Tm sorry, I forgot for a moment. I was just… thinking.'
I turned, still smiling, and I got a vase from the kitchen. The cold water was filling the vase when I heard Rick's voice calling to me. I lowered the pressure, turning the faucet. 'What would you like to drink, Sally?' he asked.
'Do we have time for a drink?' I asked, being perverse. 'Won't the film be starting soon?'
