Perry Scope - When the loving gets rough

"I did that once, too, Karen, dear." Her eyes on the girl were very warm and very familiar. "I've done just about everything."

"Come in, please," Karen moved back from the door, urging Pat into the living room. She had been so impressed with Pat's appearance that she had forgotten to invite the girl inside. "How come the clothes? I mean…"

"You didn't think I ever wore anything but jeans?" The girl tossed her head and laughed. "You're almost right. This little outfit is in honor of your husband. Isn't he home?"

"Al's at school. He won't be home for a few hours yet." Karen couldn't stop looking at Pat. She loved the way the sensitive blue eyes were lovingly raking her own face and body. It suddenly occurred to Karen that, with a whole world of beautiful women, it was astounding that she had never before noticed the sheer beauty of femininity. The thought shocked and disturbed her.

"I can't really say that I'm sorry that we're alone, Karen." Pat reached out and touched Karen softly on the cheek.

It's only because I'm so hungry for real affection! It's only because other men frighten me and Al won't give me more than his body! Karen told herself desperately. Yet, at the slight touch, Karen felt herself sway towards Pat, even knowing why, and what she risked… and that she was damning herself to a hell at which she could only guess. Damned if I do, and damned if I don't! Karen accused herself silently. "Neither can I," she answered wearily, her mouth very dry. It isn't up to me to choose! the girl sobbed inwardly, from the depths of her confusion. Pat pulled her, filled her brain, flooded her memory, and started new, strange, urgent desires in her limp body.

"Don't be frightened, baby," Pat whispered, her arms going around the smaller girl's waist. "Don't be, please. I won't do anything to you…"

Karen looked up into the startlingly lovely face. She knew her own face must yield traces of the way she felt. She wanted to protest, argue, beg Pat… yes, please, do something to me, anything…

"Anything you don't want me to do, that is – I need you to trust me, Karen. I won't hurt you, baby. I love you." Pat held the girl cradled against her breast, feeling love like a pressure against her heart, trying to forget other times when she'd felt it just as intensely before.

Karen felt the slim womanly body against her, smelled and almost tasted the shivery silk that draped the taut flesh of this woman, this one woman whom she believed she loved as she had never loved anyone. In a gesture as ancient and natural as emotion itself, Karen raised her lips to be kissed.

Pat looked down at the prettily pouting mouth, reading correctly the intensity of Karen's desire to be kissed. She smiled gently at the desirable girl she held, but withheld her mouth from Karen's.

"I wish you were mine, Karen. You've no idea how much I wish that!" Pat released the girl with an abruptness that was almost a caress. "I don't know how I got myself into this! It's a nightmare for me!"

Karen watched Pat as she paced the small room with the liquid grace of a cat. Karen was filled with confusion and fear. "A nightmare?" she repeated, not understanding.

"Yes," Pat exploded, her face suddenly dark and angry. "Yes, damn you!" Then Pat saw the look of shock and pain on Karen's face. She went to Karen and fell to her knees before Karen, her head pressed against the soft little belly. "Oh, baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that! I didn't mean to hurt you. Don't you see?" Pat looked up, past the huge pointing breasts, into the heart-shaped face. Her eyes were glossed with unshed tears. "I love you so much, Karen. But what good is it? We're going to go on torturing ourselves. You won't leave your husband. We won't ever get together. We'll end up hating each other."

Karen put her hands in Pat's hair, smoothing the ruffled strands. Pat was right. This was insane. Was she willing to give up her marriage, her life, for this girl? A swift throbbing was alerting her body. The pressure of Pat's head against her stomach, the feel of the woman's shoulders and high breasts against the tops of her thighs, were speaking with a tongue all their own. She fought down a desire to cry out that she would give up Al, she would give up everything, for this girl she hardly knew! "Pat," she moaned, not knowing what to say. "Pat!"

"I want you, Karen," Pat said, rising to her feet slowly, brushing her body with easy deliberateness against the girl. "If you want me to stay I'll try to get you. I don't care about your husband, darling. You have to understand that. And if I get you… I'll never give you up."

Karen couldn't break the communication of their eyes. She managed to speak at last, and when she did her voice was unnatural and strained. "I can't send you away, Pat. I can't promise anything, either. I'm so confused. But… I… I think I know how I feel about you. I don't understand it. I'm not so sure I want to understand it. But I think I… might… love you…" She shook her head, impatient with the nothingness she had just uttered. What was she saying? She tried to smile, knowing that if she didn't she might have to cry. "I'm going to make some coffee now. I could use a cup. Okay?"

"Yes. Sure, baby. I didn't mean to frighten you. Want some help with the coffee?"

"No, no thanks. Please, Pat, sit down. I'll be right back." Karen almost ran into the small kitchen. She was trembling violently, no longer sure of what had been said and what had been promised. She felt the proof of her excitement and hunger throughout her body. Her fingers shook as they measured coffee grounds and water. But by the time the coffee stopped perking she was almost calm. By the time she returned to Pat with the full cups of hot coffee she was able to smile almost normally. "Sugarless and black, right?" she asked, setting a cup before Pat.

Pat moved over on the couch, making room for Karen. "Right. And a sweet one," she added. She grinned at the girl. "Maybe if I didn't know there were sweet girls like you I wouldn't hate men so much."

"Why do you? Hate men so much, I mean?" Karen asked.

"That's a tricky question, baby. I could go on for years." Pat took a sip of the hot coffee.

"Really. I'd like to know," Karen encouraged.

"Well, if you insist." Pat paused for a moment, pretending to collect her thoughts. "For one thing, I believe that men are all rapists, by inclination and desire. They take what they want from women and the world. Men are completely lacking in any kind of sensitivity. You take a gentle, kind woman and mate her with a man and you find the woman turning into a shrew and a household drudge. Men bring her down to their own level. I can't understand why a woman would willingly subject herself to such a relationship. The man is usually the boss, the breadwinner, and the absolute lord of the house. What does that make the female member of the so-called fifty-fifty partnership? The whole bit disgusts me. I've never known a man who could be trusted, and I've known a hell of a lot of men." Pat thought of her stepfather. She sipped her coffee reflectively.

"What do you mean, 'trusted'?" Karen didn't really agree with Pat, but the girl's words rang in her ears with cold conviction.

"Trusted?" Pat put the cup back on the saucer and smiled at Karen. "You're a very naive child, did you know that? Men can't be trusted for anything. You can't rely on them. Particularly in sexual fidelity. If that's at all important to you."

Karen smiled a bit smugly. "Most men, maybe, but the one thing I can say about Allen is that he's reliable. Sexually, too. In fact, one of the things I don't like about Al is that he's… almost too reliable, if you know what I mean. He wouldn't even think of seducing another woman. I'm sure of that."

"Don't be too sure. It doesn't…" Pat looked away from Karen and toward the door just as it opened. She studied the thin man with appraising eyes. She took in his quiet nice looks, his spindly build, and his complete lack of guile. By the time she had pasted a shy little smile of greeting on her face, Pat had already decided that Allen Martin was not going to be a formidable enemy.