Don Lewis - Two-way wife

Nothing like this had ever happened before at one of our parties. I expected some sense of outrage from most of the guests, but there was none. Susan's seeming enjoyment of her pain and something inexplicable in the white psyche led to passive acceptance of what Jimmy had done.

I could spot only one angry face – Cynthia's. Her eyes flashed with fire and she had balled up her fists as if she were ready to hit someone. She was a frightening and menacing sight. I expected her to go after Susan, but she went after Jimmy instead. Like a black panther, she stalked across the room after him and, like a big cat, she pounced. She grabbed him by the arm, her nails digging into him.

I expected Jimmy to slap Cynthia or to punch her in the jaw. Instead, he leaned forward and whispered something into her ear. She looked at him with a new fear in her eyes, let go of his arm, and strode out of the room.

Jimmy chuckled and sat down in a chair. He noticed that the rest of us were looking at him. "Hey, let's stop jiving and get this party going," he said, as if nothing had happened.

We stood still for a moment, then one couple started fucking on the couch, their bodies slamming together with monotonous regularity as they tried to fuck away the tension in the air.

After a few minutes, two other couples had begun to fuck in various parts of the room. Usually by this time, two or three men would have been after me, but I guess everyone knew that I was upset about Susan so they left me alone.

Susan lay on the floor, but she had stopped sobbing. The pain long gone, she seemed to be resting, enjoying the post-coital glow that didn't usually follow such a brutal assault. I wanted to talk to her, to blurt out my anger and resentment at the humiliation we had all shared, but I didn't move.

I was too depressed to cheer myself by indulging in the uninhibited fucking and sucking that was occupying most everyone else at the party. I went into the bathroom to have a good cry. I stayed there for about fifteen minutes, crying my eyes out in bitterness and frustration at Susan, at my own jealousy, at her revenge on me for that jealousy.

When I emerged, no one was busy with sex as they had been when I had gone into the bathroom to cry. Instead, everyone had clustered around Cynthia, who was sobbing shrilly.

"He's gone, he's gone! I have no idea where he went!" she said again and again.

I looked around. Jimmy had indeed vanished. A sick feeling hit me in the pit of the stomach. I looked around again although I already knew what I would see. Or wouldn't see. Susan was gone, too. She and Jimmy must have left together.

I found Mike. He was worried and upset and felt a little guilty, too, when I asked him whether he had seen her leave.

"I was so damn mad at what she was doing to us that I decided to fuck someone else and forget about it," Mike said. "I must have been busy screwing when she left with Jimmy. They didn't say a word to anyone – they just vanished."

"I didn't see anything either. I was in there crying," I said, gesturing towards the bathroom as I spoke.

Cynthia was still crying, but the other guests had begun to leave. I saw that in a few moments we would be the only people there. I wasn't sure if we should stay. I felt guilty; after all, we had brought Susan and Susan had been at least partly responsible for this. I figured Cynthia would be angry at us or at least anxious for us to go.

I started to get my purse and leave, but Cynthia stopped me. "No, you two stay, please," she asked.

Her request surprised me, but Mike and I stayed. It was the least we could do. After all, without us, this never would have happened.

When everyone else had left, we talked it all over and tried to figure out where they had gone. Cynthia was as bewildered as we were.

"I don't know what got into him. He likes white people and he hates them, all at the same time. When he saw that young chick, it all boiled up out of him, all that hate and resentment. I don't think he would have gone as far as he did – he's not that mean a dude – but she seemed to like it so much. Oh, shit. I just want him back," said sadly.

"What did he tell you earlier, when you walked over to him all angry and everything and he whispered something in your ear?" Mike asked.

"He told me to shut my fucking mouth or he'd slam his foot through it as soon as everyone left," Cynthia told us. "He can be pretty mean," she added.

"I hope he doesn't beat up Susan," I said. I was worried, but not too worried. I was sure that Jimmy wasn't insane, just resentful of whites and a little irrational. I didn't think he would hurt Susan badly, especially if she did as he asked and, so far, she had done just that. I did hope, however, as Cynthia hoped, that we would get her back.

The three of us sat down to wait. It was a funereal atmosphere.

We must have been an incongruous sight. Three people sitting there unhappily, fidgeting nervously, while two of us were still completely naked. I had never undressed at this party. I had been too caught up in what Jimmy had been doing to Susan. Cynthia and Mike, however, had taken their clothes off, Cynthia before she realized exactly what her husband was doing with Susan, and Mike after he realized what was going on and had decided to try to forget it.

So we sat there through most of the night, hoping, waiting, wishing that they would return. By three in the morning we had lost hope, but some stubbornness that we began to think was mere wishful thinking led us to stay, awake and waiting.

I couldn't help imagining vividly Jimmy fucking Susan again and again until her sweet soft pussy was as raw and bleeding as her ravaged asshole. I wondered if Jimmy would know when to stop or whether, away from the crowd, he would punish her unmercifully and perhaps do permanent damage to her.

I shouldn't have worried. About four a.m. we heard voices outside, then footsteps on the front walk and the door opening. We ran into the front hall.

It was Jimmy and Susan. Jimmy looked embarrassed. He must have fucked away all his hostility, I decided. Susan didn't look embarrassed at all. Nor did she look injured. I wondered if she had enjoyed Jimmy's punishing attacks as much as earlier or whether he had been gentler with her.

Mike and I didn't know what to say, so we didn't say anything. Cynthia didn't know what to say either, so she didn't speak, but she did act. She must have been afraid of Jimmy because she ignored him. Instead, she walked right up to Susan and looked her straight in the eye.

"You mother-fucking honky bitch!" she yelled, after staring wordlessly at Susan for a few uncomfortable seconds. "How dare you run off with my husband!" she added, still screaming.

Susan didn't know what to say, so she tried her innocent smile. "We were only gone for six hours," she said softly. "I didn't run away with him. We just left for a while," she said.

I don't know what effect Susan expected that lame explanation to have, but I think what happened next surprised her. Cynthia drew her hand back and slapped Susan hard across the face. Susan stood there as if in shock while her face reddened, the marks clearly visible where Cynthia's hand had hit her.

I knew this wasn't black hostility against white America. It was a woman fighting another woman who had taken her man. Cynthia had Jimmy back, but she was going to make Susan pay for what she had done. Cynthia knew she couldn't hit Jimmy, so I think she gave Susan some extra punishment to make up for what she wanted to give to her husband.

She slapped Susan again, even harder this time. Susan stood there for a moment, tears welling up in her eyes, a small bruise raising itself on her cheek. Then she slapped Cynthia back, as hard as she could, rocking Cynthia's head back.

"I didn't take him away – he wanted to go. Why don't you hit him?" she asked.