Gus Stevens - Love Me, Love My Dog

At last we floated to the side and, struggling, I got up the ladder and then turned to help Trudy along the vertical route. We fell back on the apron, puffing, while the others emerged and dropped to our sides.

“You were marvelous, darling,” Amy purred, her lips close to my ear.

“You're not angry?”

“After what I've done? Don't be silly.”

All the same, I was beginning to feel guilty, so I sat up, trying vainly to cover myself and embarrassed for Amy's nakedness. “I guess it's time to end the party.”

There were no protests. They were good kids about it, getting to their feet and acting rather shy themselves, their arms draped along their bodies. “We can walk home,” Trudy assured me. “It's only a short way, well, you know.”

“Yes, I know.”

Trudy went into the house with me while the others put their clothes on around the pool. Soon we were all dressed and trooped to the door. Halfway there, the blonde put her hand to her lips.

“Oh, I forgot something outside. Come on, will you Mr. Brady?”

We left Amy and Buddy just inside the door and, when we were in the rear of the house, Trudy stopped me. “I guess it's time to pay up. Don't you think we deserve a tip for tonight? I mean, after all, your ordinary baby-sitter wouldn't provide all the built-in attractions that my brother and I…”

“All right, all right,” I grumbled, taking her arm and leading her into my den, which was the spare bedroom with a desk in the corner.

She waited at a discreet distance in the half light while I opened a drawer and took out a metal cash box we used for household funds between trips to the bank. I rummaged until I found the stack of large bills, palming one and closing the door. Back in the hallway I handed it over and we glanced at it before she tucked it into her bodice.

“Wowee,” she exclaimed, looking at the hundred note. Then she frowned up at me. “Are you sure this is all right? I mean, won't Mrs. Brady get sore?”

My stomach lost its bottom when I saw the size of the bill, but I couldn't let her badger me that way, so I waved a hand. “Of course it's all right. I handle the financial affairs in this house.”

She snickered, hugging my arm, her crotch catching a grip on my hip so I could feel her through the thin skirt. “Lordy, if I have any more affairs with you, I sure hope they're financial, Mr. Brady. You're a real spender.”

“Let's get back. They'll be wondering.”

Amy was still at the door with her gangling pal and we said our chorus of goodnights. I dug into my pocket and took out a ten spot, handing it to Trudy. “This will take care of your baby-sitting chores, young lady, with something to spare for being so cooperative.”

Amy was taking this in, as I'd planned, and she half raised her arm, but then lowered it. When they were gone, tripping down the front walk like two children off to school before sunrise, we closed the door and she leaned her back against it, her eyes fluttering.

“Some evening.”

“Agreed.”

“I almost stopped you from giving her that ten-dollar bill. While you were gone I couldn't help digging into my purse and giving Buddy a twenty. He was hinting that he was close to being broke.”

I sighed, shielding my eyes, hoping she wouldn't see the light wink out in their depths. “Oh, well, easy come, easy go.”

“It's time for us to go,” she purred, coming forward to take my arm. “On to bed. I'm ready to collapse.”

“I know the feeling.”

We dragged ourselves up the hall, every bone aching, saying nothing. In the master bedroom we slowly undressed, letting our clothing lay as it fell piece by piece from our bodies. She was a long time in the bathroom and then I followed. When I returned, the bedroom was dark and I slid under the covers quietly, figuring she was already drifting off to sleep.

Amy turned, pressing her body against mine and I could feel a shaking as though she might be crying. “Was I so terrible, darling? Please tell me.”

“Hell, no, I thought you were magnificent. Imagine, taking all that size…”

“I'm not talking about my sex prowess, dummy. I'm thinking about morals. Do I have any left?”

I patted her soft hair. “As many as your husband. I suppose it's all right, as long as we sin at the same rate, then nobody can afford to get sore.”

“I really hadn't intended to let myself get carried away, even after he hit me with that look of his when they first came into the house. But that Buddy Pipp… Lord, he turned my knees to butter. My breasts began to swell and the nipples were crying out for his touch. Between my legs there was a fire I couldn't put out.”

My voice was dry. “Kindly spare me the blow-by-blow details.”

She was silent for a moment. “Speaking of blowing, Trudy did a glorious job on you from the end of the diving board. Did she swallow it all?”

“I presume so. I saw no spermatozoa wiggling their way about the pool.”

A shudder ran through her. “How long will it be before we're ready for sex with each other once again?”

I didn't answer, knowing my bag was flat as a beggar's pocketbook. “Honey?” “Hm?”

“I want you to know that, no matter how excited I get when he sticks his tongue or his organ into my body, I always hold something back. I know that without love to go with it, I can't get pregnant by anyone. Only with you do I combine sex and love in the same instant.”

I snorted. “We're not ringing any gongs, either. You ought to check that recipe once again.”

“You know what I mean, don't you? There's a big difference between love and sex. When he had me all excited, his head between my knees, his tongue darting up into me…”

“I told you, no details, please.” I was feeling grouchy all over again, thinking of that moose violating my property.

“I just want you to know, so that next time things will go as smoothly.”

“Next time?” My body stiffened, except for my penis, naturally.

“Well, I presumed there would be other times. After all, we're still going to need baby-sitters.”

I made another ugly sound. “For that whorehound of a dog? Did you see him at the pool, licking your throat and my hands with a six-inch bolt of lightning sticking out of his crotch? Why should he need a sitter, for Christ's sake?”

She didn't answer for a minute. “He could still be afraid of the dark. There's no particular connection between sexual prowess and physical courage.”

“Thank you, doctor,” I rasped, turning my back to her. “I'll think that one over in my dreams.”

“Darling? Don?”

I didn't answer, instead lying quietly for several minutes before drifting into a troubled sleep.

It was late when I opened my eyes and the sun was streaming in the window, hitting me in the face. I turned slowly, still aching from crotch to lips, and looked over at Amy.

She was lying on her side, facing me, her face soft and beautiful in repose. There wasn't a harsh line; her expression was angelic, as though she'd spent the night baking apple pies in grandmother's kitchen.

Instead, she been screwed, bored and blown by a youngster ten years younger than she, as I'd worked over-and been worked over by-a girl eleven years my junior. Ah, such is the new way of life, I sighed, rolling my eyes. I wondered if that was what the hippies called doing our thing.

Today, I decided, was to be a day of reckoning, a day of soul-searching, a day to decide what was to become of us. My bad dreams had given me an obvious warning: This sort of conduct couldn't be allowed to continue or we'd go down the drain, as far as morality was concerned.

Gently, I blew into her hair and it fluffed softly. She'd moved so little during the night that it was hardly disturbed, its waves still shining and neat, just as if she'd combed her hundred strokes before falling into bed. I blew again and her eyes fluttered. Her brain was probably working me into her dreams to help her sleep, but I persisted.