Perry Scope - When the loving gets rough

The girl turned around all the way. She rubbed her small nose childlessly, her face again pale and composed. "I'm just frightened, Pat. Can we… talk about it tomorrow?" She glanced toward the bathroom. She thought she heard the shower taper off. "Al will be out in a minute." She bent to the task of making the bed, all the while avoiding Pat's eyes.

"I'm out of the john, girls," Allen called from the bedroom. "Good night."

"I'll be in after I do the dishes. You better go to sleep," Karen responded. "Would you like to wear a nightgown of mine, Pat?"

"That would be lovely." Pat casually threw the jacket on a chair and sat down on the bed.

She could sense Karen's mood. Now was the time to be gentle. Damn Allen, she thought mildly. If he wasn't in the next room I could have her now! "You see," she went on in her most lonely tone, "I need someone to take care of me." She passed a fingertip gently over her lips, tracing the line of her chin, the length of her neck, the curve of her breasts. She watched Karen's eyes follow the finger. When the short nail and the eyes had fallen together to her lap, Pat spoke again. "I need… someone…"

"I… I have to go… to sleep now. I… I'll bring you the nightgown…" Karen backed toward her bedroom, hers and Allen's. She felt as if a cord were wrapped around her loins, urging her to the girl.

"It's all right, Karen," Pat said sweetly. "I think I'll sleep in my slip. It's all I sleep in at home, when I sleep in anything at all."

Karen glanced again at the slip. It was black. Karen thought remotely that she had never seen Pat in anything but black, undeniably her color, a witch's color, dark and mysterious and exciting. "If you like…" Karen longed to go to the girl and feel her lips against her own mouth. Once, anyway. She had never wanted anything so badly. "Good night, Pat. Dream of…" What had she started to say? Karen was horrified by her traitorous mouth and body. What had happened to her? "Dream of something nice," she managed to say.

"I will, darling," Pat whispered. "I'll dream of you…"

Karen retreated into her bedroom just as Pat stood up and opened the button on her skirt. She heard the hiss of a zipper as she closed the door and she visualized the skirt dropping to the floor. The slip must be short, she knew, remembering the above-the-knee length of Pat's skirt. She hadn't seen the color of the bra Pat wore, but Karen was sure it was black. And her panties, too.

"Karen? What are you doing?" Allen asked in the darkness.

"Nothing." She became aware of her body's trembling.

"Karen? How about coming to bed? Let's get some sleep, huh?" Allen's voice was muffled and remote, but not with sleep.

"Yes," Karen answered and began removing her clothing. She groped in the dark for a nightgown, pulling out the first one her fingers touched in the deep drawer. As the gown slipped down over her raised arms, Karen realized that of all the gowns she might have picked, she had chosen the frothy concoction of lace and ribbons that she had purchased for her wedding night. She had to forcibly keep herself from letting her wild thoughts revert to the girl on the couch. The choice of this particular gown, go lug to Pat in it, symbolically starting a new marriage.

"Hey, how about coming to bed? What are you doing, anyway?" Allen asked, sitting up in bed.

"I… I thought I'd get some water." Karen turned in confusion toward the living room. But she didn't move.

"After all the coffee you drank? Don't be silly. Come to bed." Allen passed his fingers lightly over his body. He hadn't lost his readiness.

Karen nodded in the dark and walked to the bed. She was tired, unbearably tired. Sleep was almost as tempting as Pat.

The bed was warmed from Allen's tossing body. Karen wriggled between the crisp sheets and adjusted the blanket. Just as she got comfortable, Allen rolled over. He reached out and put an arm around Karen's shoulders.

"I thought you were sleepy," she said, trying to move away without making it seem like she was deliberately avoiding him.

"I am." He closed his eyes and tried again to ignore the pressure in the pit of his belly. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep at all unless he gave some relief to his nagging body. He reached out for Karen again, this time lifting the frothy nightgown to her thighs.

"Allen! Stop it! What are you doing?" Karen pushed against his hands angrily.

"Won't take long tonight, honey," Allen whispered.

Karen jerked away from her husband. She sat frozenly erect on the bed. "With company in the living room you want to…" Karen began in her frostiest whisper.

"Forget it! Just forget I asked!" Allen rolled to the other edge of the bed. "I'm going to sleep!"

Karen waited a moment, then cautiously lay down, keeping her distance from her husband. She felt the uncomfortable stiffness in her limbs, and knew that sleep was out of the question. Her mouth was dry. She thought of going to the kitchen for water. She closed her eyes and thought very hard about it. She could see herself going into the living room, looking down at Pat. Karen worked her tongue over her dry lips, listened to her husband's steady breathing and eased herself out of bed.

The living room was dark and almost silent. Karen stood very still and listened. She imagined she could detect a soft but steady rhythmic breathing coming from the couch. Her eyes, well accustomed to the darkness, could make out the outline of gentle swells under the blankets which draped the couch. She watched only a moment. Then, unable to make out the beautiful face at all, Karen continued on into the kitchen.

Karen filled a glass to the brim with cold water, and eagerly brought it to her lips. But after a few drops, she discovered that she was no longer thirsty. She poured the water down the drain and automatically rinsed the glass.

Then, because she didn't know what else to do, Karen turned to go back to bed.

Pat stood there so quietly it was impossible to guess how long she had been there, watching her. Karen wondered uncomfortably if Pat had silently observed her idiotic glass-washing. Then she forgot all about feeling awkward or embarrassed. Sensation poured in on her like a delayed reaction. She knew how she looked, with the small kitchen table lamp she had turned on shooting rays of yellow light though her gown, illuminating her large breasts with warm sun color, displaying her womanly hips, exhibiting the darker smudge below her rounded belly, thoroughly piercing the frothy material, and Pat was so shockingly beautiful, so much a part of the night, framed, as she was in the doorway, the night behind her, the light ahead. The short, black slip hid little of the lithely graceful body. Her sharply tilting breasts rose and fell gently under the bodice. All she wore under the slip was a pair of brief, black panties. Her expression was bland, but her vivid eyes were cat's eyes, alive, aware, hungry. She didn't speak, but, when Karen continued to stare mutely, she detached herself from the doorway and walked towards Karen.

Her movement was swift and sure. One moment she was part of the darkness, the next, part of Karen, their bodies pressed together, their lips moving against each other, their tongues locked before either could caution herself.

It was over in an instant. Karen's moist mouth and her pulsating body felt the loss of the contact even before she was aware that Pat was no longer in her arms. A fire was roaring hotly in her red-tinged ears. The fury of it drowned out most of Pat's soft good-night. She watched the black slip float lazily back into the darkness.

Even when Karen heard the soft protest of the couch, as Pat sank into it, she could not believe that the girl was really gone, no longer in her arms.

If this was love, Karen thought miserably, abnormal love, she amended, she wanted nothing to do with it! But even as she thought the words, Karen knew that there was nothing she could do about it any longer. It was like a drug, a powerful narcotic. She had toyed with it, played with it like a greedy kitten with a ball of wool, and now it was too late.