Chapter 10
Mara's initial reaction was one of terror. If Ruth found them in bed, there would certainly be a terrible aftermath. She had to get Joe Mills out of there fast. She disengaged herself quickly from Joe, who was busy sucking her pussy. In his deep engrossment in his sex act, he had not even hear Ruth's coming in nor her voice. He sat up, his lips wet with her vaginal dew.
'Joe we've got to get you out of here. She's here.'
'Who?' he asked stupidly.
'Ruth Peter! Oh God… You should have bolted the door. I could have pretended I was asleep or in the bath and feared burglars or something. What am I going to do now?'
'You should have said she was coming right over,' he said irritably. 'I don't want to be caught by her either.'
'It was your stupid idea to come here without any warning,' she retorted hotly. 'If you hadn't just walked in here like you did none of this might have happened.'
He laughed and stood up quickly. 'Look, let's not argue now okay? The point is I've got to get out of here right now or we'll both be in the soup.'
Joe looked frantically about the bedroom. For a second he debated diving under the bed. But a quick glance at the space between the mattress and the floor changed his mind.
'The closet over there. Quick,' Mara whispered pointing to a door on the other side of the bed. Joe Mills ran as fast as his short legs could carry him and closed the door behind him.
Mara was sighing with relief when she realized that the idiot had left all his clothing inside the bedroom. Ruth would spot them as soon as she entered.
Stooping, she picked up everything-his pants, shoes, under shorts and shirt and threw them into the bottom of a large drawer. Then, moving up to the closet door, she shut it tightly.
She had barely finished when the other door opened and Ruth Peter sailed in full of smiles and carrying a large gaily wrapped package.
'Here you are, dearest Mara. Treat it as a kind of penance for being late.'
'What is it?' Mara asked nervously. She had a terrible fear that Mills might come stumbling out of the walk-in closet or sneeze.
'Look at it. You'll see,' Ruth said quickly.
Mara opened the package. It was a beautiful pink chenille bathrobe with a rather fetching design on it.
'Try it on dear,' Ruth said laughing. 'You'll love it.'
Ordinarily Mara would have liked to do nothing more but Joe was on her mind. Smiling she touched the robe, glanced at it and put it on the bed. The gesture irritated Ruth, who asked if she did not like the robe.
Mara tried to re-assure her, pleading a depressed mood. Smiling, Ruth told her she had the remedy for it.
'Know what always cures me of the mean blues? Love. Ten minutes in my arms sweetheart and you'll be feeling ten times better. Let me hang this up in the closet.'
Before Ruth could grab the robe, Mara reached out for it and offered to wear it. She had to keep Ruth from opening the closet door and seeing the absurd fat naked figure of Mills. But Ruth was determined. Pulling the robe gently but firmly from the other girl she took it to the closet. Mara dosed her eyes and prayed silently that Joe would be invisible. How she could not tell.
Fortunately Joe, having heard the dialogue, had worried too about his visibility. He backed himself against the wall behind the line of Mara's dresses and coats and as close to the far comer of the closet as he could manage. As he waited for the dialogue inside to end, he cursed himself for coming. It had been a foolish stunt on his part.
He should have simply called Mara Blake on the phone and made it clear that he was coming over to discuss something of the greatest importance. If she balked he could have dropped a bomb about his awareness of her lesbian affair. He had not done it because he feared he would cave in. If Mara began to scream on the phone without a corroborating witness, without definite evidence he would simply have to brazen it out and insist he had seen hero He felt too insecure with women to attempt it on the phone. In person, judging her reaction, seeing her fear directly, he could instinctively tell whether he could proceed to a sexual assault.
Had he felt more secure sexually with women, it might have been different. But the truth is that under the screen of a surface leer. He was afraid of rejection always. Only in Korea had this not been true. In Korea the fears of the lovely brown-skinned girls, the submission to the American invaders were so obvious that the most insecure American could reach out for them. After a few weeks of fumbling at dates, Joe realized that he could simply put his hand up a Korean secretary's skirt and that she would not report him. When he succeeded one afternoon in actually laying a girl in his office-with the door locked of course-he lost all his fears.
It had happened so smoothly he could hardly believe it. He and the moon-faced beauty had been alone as he gave her a series of memos to her officers in the camp. Suddenly noting that he could see the wisp of white panties between her parted legs, he got an erection. He grinned and told her she was very pretty and said jokingly that he had to fight an impulse to kiss her lovely face. The girl had smiled blandly. When he remarked that her legs were also beautiful, she smiled again. Now his desire was at a new height and without thinking, he had risen and embraced her and a moment later leaned her against the desk. Silently, with no resistance from her, he had plunged his penis into her pussy.
The sensation was the most exquisite he had ever known. The girl was barely eighteen and had a very tight vagina that gripped his club like a vise and seemed to milk it. Her almond-shaped eyes had suddenly shown her own excitement. It was all he could do to keep from shouting his delight.
Later he had done the same thing to other girls, choosing the long lunch hour to lay them in his private office. Sometimes he would spread their thighs on the desk or table in the room. At other times he would take out his peter and ask them to kneel and suck him until he came in their mouths.
It was a great experience and great for his ego. Suddenly he was no longer Joe Mills, the last guy in the unit to get a nod from American nurses or correspondents or the special service girls. He was a man whose cock had entered a dozen beautiful girls, who had known sexually many beautiful women and could get many more.
The ego boost this gave him propelled him into affairs with two American nurses. He found that it was not too difficult to get into their pants if he played the dominant male with one girl he simply reached over and squeezed her breast as he told her she was the most beautiful girl on the base. Before she could protest he had his finger in her pussy and she was wheezing with passion. The other he had invited boldly to accompany him on a weekend to a recreational resort for the army and they had spent several wonderful days screwing. He had felt on top of the world, a desirable male and even seeing his middle-aged face and double chin in the shaving mirror did not change matters for him. But as he feared, it all changed when he got back home.
Back in America his old fears had come back in full face. He not only feared approaching women sexually younger ones in particular, he carried with him a self image he hated bitterly. It was of a middle-aged satyr whom younger women secretly despised and treated with a cavalier contempt. He fancied he saw it in the indifferent and cool glances of most of the younger teachers at the school and he felt it daily in his large apartment building. He needed to lay a beautiful girl to kill that self image.
The thought of possessing young Mara Blake, of using his secret knowledge of her sex life to dominate a girl he would never been able to come dose to otherwise, obsessed him. He would pass her in the school corridor and think to himself: 'Baby one day soon you are going to suck my cock and I am going to ram my pole into your little brown ass.'
He watched her in the cafeteria, across the room at his lonely table, staring greedily at her legs and her round firm breasts thinking of how delicious they would feel in his mouth. He would wonder how her 'cunt lips,' as he called them, would feel when his tongue caressed them.
Crouching there now behind the line of garments in the closet, he trembled. One sudden touch by Ruth and it would be a mess. He might get into a bitch of a fight with her and she might decide to fight him in court or in a special panel, denying everything he accused them of. After all he had no proof except his own words. There was no witness he could summon. But Ruth did not touch him. He sighed with relief as she left and returned to Mara Blake.
