scene with Ruth Peter. He had just turned past a huge tree when he saw them straight ahead.
Fortunately they were so involved in each other that they did not see him. Actually it would have been a miracle had they done so because both women had their faces buried in each other's thighs. He could tell it was Mara on one side because of the color of her skin. He was not quite sure who the other woman was at first. She was making gibberish sounds as her tongue moved madly against the other girl's pussy. For a moment, Tom Leonard had a mad impulse to laugh. It was Ruth Peter! Miss Cold Fish of 1975 and her big tits were flapping like a demented catfish against Mara's as she sucked away for dear life.
Under most circumstances the sight would have driven him to loud, uncontrollable laughter. The idea of a frigid bitch like Ruth trying to eat another woman-and a woman like Mara-was not only funny, it was something to tell Joe Mills. Many times at parties thrown by a faculty member, Tom had tried to come on with Ruth. She had been polite but offered only cold smiles that said clearly: 'I'm glad to talk to you about educational theory and history but please don't touch. I'm not interested in sex. I'm above sex.'
He had, of course suspected that she was a dyke, but there was no proof. She kept her tracks well covered. The only time he had ever been to her home, her bedrooms had been locked-he had tried to sneak in to one-and it had been at dull cocktail party to welcome some new teacher. He had wondered whether she really was asexual or just masturbated with a candle or a big banana. But he never expected anyone as careful as Ruth, that paragon of formality, that personification of paralyzed humor, of antisocial attitudes, one always so careful of that holy image of the competent, dedicated high school teacher, to take a risk like this.
To risk being caught in a sixty-nine position in the open. True, it was over two hundred yards to the lake and in deep woods. True, she knew they were getting soused and unconcerned back there at the tables. But still someone could have come along and seen them, or even bumped into them as he almost had. They must be really crocked, he thought.
Watching their passionate lovemaking, he was reminded of the last hard-core porno flick he had seen, in which two dykes went down on each other. And of some porno stills some street corner type had once sold him in Saigon. Stills! The memory of those porno pictures gave him a new idea. There was still enough light and he had a very fast film in the camera. And a fast lens. What a great shot!
Crouching low he took several shots of both of them as they licked each other's pussies, making sure that at least two or three showed their faces clearly. It was no fun unless you could see the ladies' faces, he thought. They would make great additions to his porno collection-pictures he had picked up in France, Viet Nam and other places. But these would be very special because he knew the participants.
After he took about ten shots, he got up and, still suppressing a desire to laugh as she saw their mooning expressions of bliss and satisfaction, he started back. He had, got some great new shots for his collection. And that's all he might have wanted them before except that just as he started to leave the scene, he heard Ruth Peter mentioning his name with utmost contempt.
'You should have seen that fool Tom Leonard's face,' Ruth said laughing. 'He looked like someone caught masturbating by the local priest…' The words sank in deeply, searing him. It was not only Ruth's words, it was the tone. It was if she were talking to someone about a village idiot instead of a man who held a master's degree from Yale, who was twice as intelligent as she was.
'The stupid fool deserves it,' Tom heard Ruth add a moment later.
Flushing deeply, Tom clenched his fists. He was angry but uncertain what to do. Should he plunge in on Ruth and tell her what he thought of her, warn her to keep her mouth shut about him?
A second later Mara's voice answered. 'I wouldn't let that dirty pig within ten feet of me.' Mara laughed. And again it was the tone of the laugh, full of contempt, that irritated him most.
'Not even for lunch, let alone sex,' Mara concluded.
That was all Tom Leonard needed. He knew damned well what the hell he was going to do now. Those pictures would come in very handy. You girls are going to regret all that vino you drank. You should have kept your eyes open for intruders, he thought.
And now Tom Leonard laughed. So that little Eurasian bitch was not going to let him come within ten feet of her, was she? He had news for her. The dirty pig she couldn't stand would not only be pretty close, much closer than ten feet, he would offer her lunch from his own cock. And if she didn't like the menu she could lump it. No, he thought grinning, not lump it, lick it. You are going to lick my stiff cock and my balls, you arrogant Eurasian cunt, he said softly as he walked back toward the lake.
Thank goodness he had taken along his camera. It was going to open the door to a lot of great sex for him, Starting very soon, too.
Chapter 5
A week later the roof began to fall in on Mara, sexually speaking, as the peeping toms began to collect their pounds of flesh. But first there was an angry scene with Mike that nearly drove her back to Rangoon.
Surly and argumentative on the phone, Mike had become increasingly irritated by Mara's failure to see him. Her excuses that she was exhausted by the new school burden were accepted for several days. But finally Mike became insistent.
'Jeeze baby I'm dying here without you,' Mike said. 'I sit in my office thinking about you and going through one erotic daydream after another. It was embarrassing yesterday. There was a woman in here on a tax matter who looked vaguely like you and I found myself thinking of balling you.'
'Oh Mike, don't talk like that. Is anyone in the office now?'
'No… I thought of how great it would be to lean you up against my desk, lower your panties, take my cock out and shove it right up. Remember when I did that once about a month ago? You were terrified that someone would catch us fucking like mad.'
'Please don't say things like that over the phone someone else may pick up the extension,' Mara pleaded. Her boyfriend had this insane habit of using the telephone as a private sex line. He would go on provocatively for fifteen or twenty minutes several times a week, playing a game intended to work her up. But never, never as strong as he was now.
'Are you wet between the legs, baby?' he said now. 'Think of how nice my tongue would be against your clitoris. Then I could suck your lovely tits till you got ready to explode. While my finger goes in and out of your hot, wet cunt.'
Her face flushed pink as she heard him continue. He was much more graphic now than he'd ever been before. Usually he would work up his sex monologue very slowly, starting with a handful of comments on his interest in her as a girl, her conversational ability, her hair, her perfume. Then after ten minutes, when she had been put into the right erotic frame of mind, he would slip in the really dirty phrases, using words like 'hot wet cunt.' 'my throbbing cock in your pussy.' And so on until he had to quit because a client walked in or a long distance call had to be accepted.
'Baby… I am going nuts here,' he was saying. 'My peter is so hot for your little slit that I nearly put it in Mary Jane's fat ass a minute ago. See how desperate I am?'
The phrase made her laugh. Mary Jane was at windy bookkeeper of forty-eight or so with a backside that resembled the map of Texas and whenever Mike wanted to make her laugh, he'd fantasize what it would be like to ram his penis against her as she bent over her figures. 'It would have to be a cock the size of a telephone pole to wake her up,' he would say. 'Besides, I think the last time Mary Jane had a cock in that leathery saddle between her thighs was when a Confederate soldier fucked her at Gettysburg.'
She laughed again as he went on, but there was a new tone in his voice, a sense of anxiety that had not been there before. That and the incessant flow of hot sexy talk bothered her until she realized that he was trying desperately to get her in the mood to have intercourse with him. He was hoping that by bombarding her with a Niagara of sex on the wire, she would get so hot and wet that she'd be begging him to drop whatever he was doing and come to make love to her. And very often it worked.
But it wasn't working today, she realized. Her mind as so full of her affair with Ruth Peter that his erotic epithets collided with her ear like pebbles dashed against a high window. Finally she had to stop him. He would keep her there in a kind of aural bondage all afternoon and she had to shop because Ruth was coming for
