Peter Jensen - The Virgin Couple

“I… I guess you’re right.” She sat morosely for a moment, dwelling on his argument, then she blurted, “But doing such things can really make people happy!”

Goren shrugged. “No? Well, they seemed to be.”

Kim started to wail again, her agonized torment gushing like rainwater from her eyes. Goren reached into the pocket of his jacket and handed her a clean white hanky. She Wiped her eyes gratefully. She stopped crying again, and after a few choking sounds, tried to speak.

“I guess you think I must be an awful fool carry on like this. I… I’m sorry, Jack.”

“Don’t be sorry, Kim. No one can blame you for being upset after what you’ve seen today. God knows I’m upset myself,” he lied.

They continued toward San Francisco, each locked in their separate thoughts.

Kim was confused. She poured herself another Vodka Colline almost mechanically and tried to sort out the horrible afternoon rationally. Barry had always seemed happy with their lovemaking, although she had to admit she was ignorant about a lot of sexual matters. Did it really take such deviations to satisfy a man? No. it couldn’t, it just couldn’t! But… could it be that she was the one who was wrong? For the first time since she was married, Kim began to actually question her conservative values, wondering if she actually didn’t know what it took to hold a man physically. At the same time she had no idea what to do about catching Barry flagrant delicate with Jack’s beautiful sluttish wife. She loved Barry, in spite of this, and her heart ached for some way of repairing the damage he had wrought upon their marriage. Yet… where was her pride, her moral integrity? Could she leave him? Well, she couldn’t just stand for this, she couldn’t and what about Jack Goren… did he want a divorce, the ensuing scandal? Did she? Oh God, God! Kim slumped against the window, utterly dejected, her brain still whirling confusedly.

Goren watched her smooth, firm body as she sobbed into the handkerchief again.

It was all he could do to keep himself from pulling the car over to the side of the road and fucking her silly right on the spot. But he still had to wait a little longer, to keep up the facade of the outraged husband until he got her back to her house. Else, he might destroy the confidence she was building in him, or abate the anger she felt toward Barry. The first step had gone so well that he hated to chance losing it all on one sudden, rash move. So instead of anything physical, he spoke soothingly to Kim, a practiced skill from the long years as a glib-tongued salesman, and his words came smoothly and easily, building the gap between Barry and her and all the while closing the gap between her and himself.

Less than an hour later, he parked the Continental in front of the Sutton’s Sunset District house. As he helped Kim out, Goren said, “I’ve worked hard, Kim, awfully hard over the years, and I’m not going to jeopardize my position.”

He looked at her; she was still agitated and shaking. “I haven’t accumulated a lifetime of effort just to destroy it all with a foolish reaction… or an ugly scandal.”

They walked along the path to the front door. Kim fumbled in her purse for the key.

“No, honey,” Goren continued as she ushered him in. “There’ll be none of that, I promise you.” He shut the door and leaned against it, smiling a faint, sardonic smile. “But they aren’t going to get away with this, are they?”

Kim turned to look up at him. “No,” she said grimly. “They aren’t going to get away with it, Jack.”

Goren’s smile grew progressively larger. His eyes moved slowly over the firm, slim curve of the distraught woman before him, trying to maintain a hurt, gentlemanly expression while the fire was building ever hotter in his loins.

You’re going to be a good fuck, baby, he thought hungrily. You’re going to be as good a fuck as my wife when I get through with you.

He said, “I think we could both use another drink, Kim, don’t you?”

Kim sat next to Jack Goren on the three cushion couch, her fifth drink-or was it her sixth? she couldn’t really be sure how many she’d had in the car-clutched tightly in both her hands. Her mind was swirling with the pictures of what she had seen at Salmon Creek.

Barry kissing Lynn between the legs, kissing her-well, her pussy, no use mincing words now… Barry’s large, bloated penis almost completely consumed by the wet, dripping lips sucking voraciously on it, as if it were some gigantic peppermint stick… Barry’s contorted, lust-expressioned face, and Lynn’s, as they groveled in one another’s private, sweating parts… God, God, it was all there in her mind, as vivid now as it had been when she’d witnessed it. She felt a little a nauseous, a little ashamed, but yet overwhelmingly angry; Barry had violated a sacred marital trust, the very essence of their love and their relationship.

She didn’t know what to do. Actually, she wanted to hurt him, do something to pain him as he had pained her… retribution… reprisal… But that was unthinkable, because the only kind of retribution or reprisal which this untenable situation warranted was doing the same thing-or at least, the same type of thing-that Barry had done. In plain terms, it meant making love to another man; and she simply couldn’t do that.

Or-could she?

No, no, no, no! her mind repeated, over and over. No, that’s liquor talking, liquor and shame and hurt talking, I really shouldn’t have had all these drinks … oh God, I don’t know what to do! I don’t know how to cope with a situation like this, who would ever have dreamed that I would have to?

Kim felt tears brim in her eyes, spill down over her cheeks. Crying wasn’t going to do any good, she knew that, but she felt so wretched and miserable at that moment, so indecisive, that the tears were something of a defense mechanism to momentarily flood out the terrible hurt and still leave the questions unresolved. She let the tears flow freely, pouring from her eyes like cascading winter rain, sobbing brokenly without removing her hands from around the glass.

Dimly, she was aware of movement on the couch beside her; dimly, she felt a hand touch her shoulder, an arm go around her and draw her close; dimly, she knew the clean, faint cologne smell of a man in her nostrils. But the arm was strong and the odor was not at all unpleasant, and she allowed herself to be pressed close against a firm, supporting chest, lowering her head there and crying deeply, despairingly…

Jack Goren felt the warm, resilient body pressed tightly to his own, felt the firm, rippling muscles of her shoulder beneath his encircling arm, smelled the heady fragrance of her hair and her body. Goddamn! Oh, it was going to be good, all right; it was really going to be good! Jack Goren felt a throbbing ache in his balls, and the blood was beginning to pound hotly in his rising cock, making little tingling sensations race back and forth across the swelling head.

Damn, he couldn’t wait much longer, that was for sure. He had to have her pretty soon now, because if he didn’t he was going to blow his whole load in his pants, sure as hell. But he sensed that she was open and ready for suggestion now-she was ashamed and a little drunk and mad as hell-and that it wouldn’t take much to convince her what was sauce for the goose was sauce for the gander.

Goren began to whisper softly against her hair, letting the soft strands tickle his nostrils, intensifying the warm, pleasant ache in his now-almost-fully-erect cock. At first the words were soft, mesmeric, quieting sounds, consisting of “shhhh, honey” and “don’t cry, now, don’t cry” and “everything will be all right, baby, you’ll see.” He took the glass from her fingers and placed it on the coffee table; almost immediately, she raised her hands and clutched at his polo shirt, bunching the cloth between her spasmodic fingers as she wept against him. He knew that the words, his nearness, were having an effect on her-though of course she couldn’t be realizing it at the moment, would realize it only later when his forthcoming plays would have sent her beyond any recall. She was trusting him now, trusting his words and trusting the touch of his arm about her shoulders… just the way he wanted it.