The Trophy Case

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Chapter Four

“So how did Tony perform?” she asked from the treadmill.

“Not all that badly once he sobered up,” answered Arlette. “However drunk is something that doesn’t get better with practice. I really feel like a new man today.”

“Well when you start quoting Mae West that’s usually what happens.”

“How’d you make out with the picnic?”

“Fabulously, we spent the whole day insulting them.”

“That sounds satisfying. My family treats me like dog shit, especially if I bring a date. What about the one with the free weights?”

“The Stanford T shirt? He looks like he could do some damage.”

“I’ll see if I can’t find out,” said Arlette moving to the stair climber nearest the free weights.

Jerry took her to a restaurant in Boulder Creek, which, due to its proximity to the vineyard, featured Ricardo Cheyenne wines. They shared a bottle of Pinot Noir from the vineyard that sat up the mountain, in the redwoods. They ordered veal rib steaks Beau Séjour, with its vinegar red sauce.

He took his time undressing her, as if each little detail needed to be tended to. He kissed her neck, and everywhere he touched her, he brushed her skin so it almost tickled and by the time he kissed her breasts she was shivering. She wasn’t going to last long tonight, she was half way there and he wasn’t even undressed yet. He took her hands and pinned her to the bed, kissed her stomach and her breasts, whispered, “You’re beautiful” in her ear as he playfully bit it and stood up to undress.

He got in behind her as he usually did, put his hand under her on her breast and his other on her stomach slowly drawing her against him. “I meant it you know,” he said.

“Meant what?”

“That I love you.”

She put her hands over his and hugged herself. She felt the tear slip down her cheek. Why did it have to be this way? If she were the man, no one would remark a thing about it, in fact she was nine years younger than the damn glorified maître de, and everyone was fine with that. But he wasn’t the older party, she was, and that made her a tramp and a slut, and whatever else they could dredge up to call her.

He moved his hand up and down her thigh, teasing her with it while holding her breast as tightly as she had hugged it over his hand. And as she had predicted she didn’t last too long when he finally touched her.

She turned him over and inserted him into her. Whatever he had done it had made her breasts more sensitive than usual, so instead of sitting back she fell forward to crush her breasts against his chest. She moved and her nipples sent little thrills through her breasts and down into her crotch. Instead of squeezing him into cumming, she continued to massage her breasts against his chest, feeling the little thrills extend down her legs to her toes. He had both hands on her ass as he pulled her into his orgasm. It ran through her on the trails blazed by the nipple thrills and she shook with it.

“Oh God,” she said, “How I love you.”

She spent most of Tuesday on the phone with her broker. Since she sold the ski lodge and invested the proceeds her portfolio had grown nicely and most of it on the advice of her broker. She wasn’t doing anything major, just tweaking things here and there. Still she was the type of person who wanted, make that needed, to know everything. This contrasted pretty sharply with Arlette, who used the same broker, and didn’t have a clue what she invested in or how and as long as her checks remained regular would probably never ask. Neither of them worked, neither had to, they both had business cards as A & K Interior Decoration, but aside from doing their own homes they had never actually done any.

Arlette showed up on Wednesday, which was unusual.

“I’ve got to get in better shape,” she said by way of explanation. “You haven’t met Roger yet, have you?”

“Stanford Tee shirt?”

“Yeh, he graduated four years ago. I think he majored in fucking. First time Monday night we didn’t even make the bedroom. He took my wine, set it down, took off my blouse and bra and started on my tits, dropped my skirt and got his hand inside my panties, he was on me, inside me and alternating between kissing me and licking my nipples. In five minutes, I went from calmly drinking a glass of wine to the edge of an orgasm, I mean he was that good.

“He took my panties down, picked me up and laid me out on the floor, undressed and pulled me on top of him. He went to work on my butt forcing my clit against him while continuing to alternate between my tits and my mouth. I just crashed and burned, and then he came like someone shot a machine gun up my cunt.

That was the first of four times Monday night. The third time was all Rosie, one hand inside me his thumb on my clit his other hand all over my tits and his legs squeezing one of mine. They must have heard me in San Francisco I was so turned on. In fact, I was so wired when he left it took forever to get to sleep.

“So, he comes over last night, at some point I had invited him over for dinner. He backs me into the bedroom takes off my blouse and bra, and before I can suggest dinner my jeans are on the floor and I’m on my back on the bed. Well, there isn’t a place on me he didn’t touch. I was so turned on I almost came when he slipped inside me. He got us up on our sides and pulled my leg up high enough to get his hand in me from behind Jesus I think I came three or four times right then. And then we had dinner and I got fucked three more times. He’s coming over tonight and I need to get in better shape.

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