Dan Webster - Forced into damnation

"Hi, Connie," he said, dropping down to sit cross-legged on the floor beside her. "Why are you sitting all by yourself?"

"I just got here a little while ago," she answered. "And I haven't seen anybody I know."

Fred laughed. "Don't wait for formal introductions," he said. "This is a casual party. I don't know half the people myself, and it's my house. But we're all friends, anyway. Here I'll show you what I mean."

He suddenly turned toward a girl who was sitting against the other wall, her eyes closed, her lips mouthing the words of the Rolling Stones record that was being played. "Hi," he said, raising his voice to rouse her from her apparent trance.

The girl's eyelids fluttered open. For a moment she looked lost, turning her head quickly from side to side as though trying to find a landmark. Then, seeing Fred smiling at her, she smiled back and answered, "Hi."

"I'm Fred," he said.

"That's nice," she answered. "I'm Bella."

"Bella," he said, his voice taking on a playful air of formality, "meet Connie. Connie, Bella."

Bella smiled and nodded at Connie. "Hi," she said. "See ya." Her eyes drooped shut and her head nodded as her body began to sway once more in rhythm to the music.

Fred laughed. "Stoned, it looks like," he said. Connie's ears perked up at the word. "I was going to call Lionel and ask him to bring some dope to get the party going," he continued. "But I've been having some trouble with the landlord and I figured it would be cooler to stay clean for a while. So if you want to get stoned, I'm afraid you'll have to do it somewhere else. Looks like most of the kids got high before they came. Sorry I can't be a better host."

"Oh, that's all right," Connie said. "I can live without it for one night, I suppose." Fred smiled. Then, trying to sound casual, she asked, "Lionel? Lionel? I'm not sure I know him."

"Oh, you must," Fred answered. "Everybody knows Lionel. He's everybody's connection. Haven't you met him yet?"

"No, I don't think so," she answered.

"Well, you'll get a chance tonight," he said, "Lionel promised he'd be here a little later. Can I get you a drink? At least there's no law against booze."

"Yes, I think I'd like a drink," Connie answered.

"Be right back," Fred said, rising from the floor and walking toward a table on which stood some whiskey bottles and a few glasses. Connie watched him pour a drink from one of the bottles and then start towards her. But he was stopped by a girl who was wearing tight hip-hugging pants and a see-through top with nothing underneath it. Fred shot Connie a "be patient" glance as he stood talking to the girl.

Connie took the opportunity to look around the room. Her eyes had become accustomed to the dim light, and the burning sensation caused by the excess of cigarette smoke in the air had subsided. The room was rather large and Connie estimated that there were about twenty people in it. Most of them were sitting on the floor or standing around holding drinks and chatting.

Then she noticed Peter and Eleanor, two of the kids that she knew from the Glass Onion. They were sitting on the floor at the other end of the room. Connie was about to get up and go to them when Peter put both arms around Eleanor and began kissing her on the lips. Connie wanted to turn away, but found herself staring at them, watching them kiss.

Peter's hand was moving over Eleanor's back, caressing her through the loose-fitting sweater that she was wearing. Then, without breaking lip contact, he slipped his hand inside the back of her sweater. His motion pulled the garment tight across the front of Eleanor's chest and Connie could see that she wore no bra. Her nipples were outlined clearly against the tautly drawn knit material of the sweater.

Connie found that she couldn't take her eyes off the lewd spectacle. Peter's hand had come out of the sweater now and had slipped around to the front of Eleanor's body. He began cupping the girl's large round breasts right through the sweater. Connie watched the expression on Eleanor's face change from one of contented pleasure to one of passionate excitement. The girl's body was beginning to move lasciviously, as though what Peter was doing to her actually felt good.

Connie felt that it was wrong for her to watch, but found herself fascinated by the sight. And, anyway, if she was going to win the confidence of these kids, she would have to understand what made them tick. Observing Peter and Eleanor was all in a day's work, she told herself. She shifted her weight on the cushion again, trying to straighten the skirt which had ridden halfway up her thighs. She felt very warm, as though someone had turned the heat up full-blast.

Peter's hand was inside the sweater again, only this time in the front. His movements were clearly outlined against the material of Eleanor's sweater as he stroked her swelling tits. Eleanor's eyes were tightly shut and she seemed to be laboring for breath. Connie pitied her, recognizing, from the expression on the poor girl's face, that she didn't stand a chance of holding off the lustful explorations of Peter's wandering hands. But the young policewoman also knew that she was powerless to help her. Eleanor had gotten herself into it. Now it was her problem.

Peter was kissing her throat now, and moving both hands sensuously over her body. Eleanor's sweater was inching higher and higher, exposing a wide expanse of the girl's bare belly to Connie's view. Then, to the young policewoman's shock, Peter pulled it up all the way, completely uncovering Eleanor's rounded tits.

Taking a quick furtive look around her, Connie was pleased to find that no one else in the room had taken notice of what the couple in the corner was doing. She looked toward them again, just in time to see Peter taking one of Eleanor's ripe white mounds of breast flesh in his hand, squeezing it gently until her rosy nipples puckered to turgid erection. As he began to roll the quivering pink caps around in his fingers, tweaking and plucking at them to Eleanor's apparent enjoyment, Connie felt her own nipples hardening inside her bra.

She didn't understand what this meant, although it wasn't the first time that it had happened to her. She knew, of course, that her nipples puckered and hardened when she was cold or wet. But she certainly wasn't cold now. The same thing had happened to her several times in the shower, as she washed her breasts. When she rubbed the soapy washcloth gently over their smoothly rounded surfaces, her nipples would begin to tingle and then they would become turgid and erect. The first few times that this had happened, it frightened her. But after a while she had learned that she could avoid it by being quick, brisk, and business-like when washing her breasts.

Watching it happen to another woman's nipples was certainly interesting. It seemed that the more Peter stroked the firm quivering nipples the harder they got. And the better Eleanor seemed to like it. Her whole body was in motion now. She had leaned back against the wall and was trembling all over as her boyfriend's hands explored her body shamelessly. Connie thought that she could even hear the girl's sighs of pleasure from across the room.

Connie's breasts had begun to tingle now, and a warm persistent itch, with its center somewhere in her groin, was beginning to annoy her. She was sure that it would go away if she could only bring herself to tear her curious eyes from the lewd scene on the other side of the room, but her fascination with the unknown was getting the better of her.

Suddenly Fred dropped to the floor beside her and handed her a drink. "We may be short on dope," he said, "but we're long on erotic entertainment."

Connie felt her face flushing crimson red as she realized that Fred had seen her looking at Peter and Eleanor. "I… I… I just noticed that…" she stammered, but Fred cut her off with a laugh.