Chapter Eleven - Confrontation

She awoke late in the afternoon. The weather had turned warm again. Across the street construction crews were beginning to erect the new condominiums. Just two months ago Wally had been pushing over the first trees with his grader. Exactly sixty-five days had passed since the afternoon when she impulsively interrupted his lunch.

In spite of Stein’s insistence that she was free to make choices, that gesture seemed to be the last independent one she’d made. Yet it was true that he had never forced her to do anything. In fact, he had made a point of offering her a way out each time he’d made a suggestion. Why, then, did she feel so helpless? She despised all the men in her life: her uncle, Wally, Richie, Vinnie, the husbands of her friends, and even perhaps poor Jeff, but most of all Stein.

But there was someone far more deserving of her contempt, much worse than any of them, she herself was the most despicable. Perhaps Stein had been right. Her guilt about her parents, and later about her childhood masturbation in front of her uncle had given her an excuse to run breathlessly across the street that morning with a beer for Wally. She was seeking penance. Then she met Stein. And from the first, Stein had seemed like the Devil himself. Maybe he appeared that way because that’s the way she chose to see him. His abuse was penance and penance gave her what she needed. It relieved her of guilt. After the horrible experience with Stein’s pets, she felt the sins of her past had been expiated. A few days later, she sent Jeff off to Washington. When he was killed, she quickly accepted the responsibility for his death. Yet, her husband’s death was an accident. The fact that she sent him away that weekend was not a direct cause. He could have died in a car crash on his way to work. He could have refused to go on to Atlanta. He could have taken an earlier plane or a later one and lived. Had she been deluding herself about her need for penance? Had she assumed the guilt for Jeff’s death because it provided her with an excuse for electing the self-debasing choices Stein offered?

But were they really self-debasing? Hadn’t each of them led to the extremes of both pain and pleasure? Before the adventure with Wally hadn’t she been caught in the destructive web of upper-middle class routines: tennis, golf, boring parties, getting and spending? Hadn’t she simply been going through the motions of existence? Hadn’t her life with Jeff been structured, repetitive, predictable, and monotonously routine? Just how authentic had her life been? The truth was that she had been wishing for some experience that was new and different, something beyond their little circle of friends. She remembered the waitress at Howard Johnson’s...what was it she’d said, “Boredom is the worst of all, day after day, after day, the same damn things.” Kathy had realized immediately that the woman was right. It was this understanding, not Richie, that had sent her rushing home.

She had read somewhere that life is no more nor less than the experiences people encounter. She recalled the analogy that the writer used to support this idea. He said that we punish people by putting them in jail thereby limiting their range of experiences. The piece concluded by stating that if we are able to increase our experiences in number, and in kind, and in intensity by pushing ourselves to the limits then life itself becomes an exciting celebration. To elect to limit ourselves to the endless round of what society considered “normal” and “acceptable” was to diminish and demean life. The argument made sense.

But then she remembered Stein’s multi-colored leech flopping on her bedroom rug. She thought about Richie’s cold bony fingers digging into her flesh, Vinnie’s angry curses. By what stretch of the imagination could these be considered celebrations of life? But if everything we eat tastes like chocolate bars, how would we know the taste of chocolate? Isn’t it the taste of bitter that gives sweet its meaning? Aren’t pain, and humiliation, and evil necessary? No, of course not. At least not for her. She must have been crazy to imagine that any kind of relationship with Richie would add some dimension to her life.

Her afternoon thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the phone. She’d told her friends that she was going to Boston and staying for several weeks so it had to be Stein.

“I trust you slept well, Mrs. Ryan.”

“Yes, I did, thank you.”

“You have not, I take it, changed your mind.”

She thought before answering, “I really haven’t had time to think. I’m not ready to make a final decision.” She had decided but was afraid to tell Stein. She’d just procrastinate for awhile and hope that he would get the message.

“I must remind you, Mrs. Ryan, that your decision last night sounded quite final.”

“Yes, but I was tired and...”

“And you drove all the way back from Harrisburg to masturbate over the telephone,” he paused. She could not say anything. “I’m not anxious to make another trip over there but arrangements must be made. I’ve been busy all morning and now there are things we need to discuss. The date has been set, October 10th, that’s next Saturday.”

“I can’t, Mr. Stein. Really, it’s impossible. I must have more time. I...”

Stein cut her off, “It’s after five o’clock now. I still have things to do here. I'll be at your house at ten.” He hung up before she could reply. Kathy sat beside the phone for a long time. She thought back over the events of the past two months. She felt her resolve melting away. She touched her pussy. It was wet. Not Richie, absolutely not Richie. But there was another possibility.

Kathy dressed quickly and drove to the village mall, which housed a cluster of expensive shops. She bought several pairs of shoes, a black negligee, a red one, and a number of other revealing gowns. She also purchased a variety of lipsticks, eye shadows, glosses, soaps, oils, and perfumes. There was just enough time to have her nails done and her hair styled. It framed her face and curled under at the nape of her neck.

At home again, she showered and shaved the slight stubble of pubic hair that had begun to grow back. She rubbed her body with the familiar mixture of Shalimar and oil. The black negligee was transparent and held together at her waist by three small hooks. She selected a pair of the new shoes, black with a very high heel, thin as a nail. They had narrow ankle straps, which she pulled tight remembering Stein’s wide leather cuffs with their steel rings. She took care with her eyes and lips, the dark mascara and bright red lip-gloss in striking contrast to her pale skin.

At ten o’clock a cab pulled up before her house, discharged its passenger, and waited. She opened the door before Stein was halfway up the walk. He pushed the door closed behind him and stood looking at her. “Yes,” he said, “much better. Tasteful, provocative, expensive.” She smiled, pleased at his words of approval.

He sat down in the chair, which she no longer thought of as Jeff’s. It seemed to belong to Stein. It was as if she and Jeff had purchased it long ago expecting that one-day Stein would appear to claim what had been his all along. She adjusted the footstool so that he could easily place his feet upon it. He sank back in the chair sighing contentedly, “Ahh, yes, much better.”

He watched her for a moment. “Yes, Mrs. Ryan,” he said, a gentleness in his voice that she had not heard before, “if you must look like a whore, and I think you should, then it’s best you look like a high priced one.”

“But I’m not...” she began to protest.

“No, of course you're not. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. You do not accept payment. You give of yourself how and when it pleases you.” He stared up at her. “Indeed, you are an exquisite example of proportion and grace.” Until now he had never spoken to her in this way. She felt flattered and, to her surprise, touched. “Rather like a piece of Oriental sculpture,” he continued, “a rare Ming vase.” She smiled at him. “Do not be deceived, Mrs. Ryan. I can appreciate your form and admire your beauty, but you are only an object, a uniquely beautiful one, but an object all the same. To me you will never be more than that.” She felt the color rise to her cheeks. “Do you know what a vase is, what it really is no matter how precious or rare?” She shook her head. “It’s a receptacle, Mrs. Ryan, just a receptacle, that’s all.”

“But...” she began to protest.

“Enough!” he said, sharply. “There are matters we must attend to.”

She crossed behind the coffee table to sit opposite him. She took a deep breath and spoke, quickly, a speech she’d been rehearsing all evening. “Mr. Stein,” she said, “I can’t marry Richie. I’ve thought about it and it’s out of the question. If you want the money, I’ll give it to you. You can have it. Or, if you’re agreeable, I’ll...” she paused and looked away.

“You will what, Mrs. Ryan?”

“I...I’ll marry you.”

His burst of laughter was so loud it startled her. He rocked back and forth shaking his head. “Mrs. Ryan,” he said when he’d caught his breath, “I never gave you credit for having much intelligence, but occasionally you struck me as being slightly perceptive. It appears now that you have absolutely no mind at all. So, this was what all the provocative dressing up was for. You were trying to seduce me into desiring you. How could you have been so foolish? And the money. Can you conceive of me accepting a gift of money from anyone, especially from you? And as for marrying you, my dear Mrs. Ryan, you’ve taken leave of your senses. In the last five minutes I have called you a whore, and an object, and a receptacle. Why maybe even Richie’s too good for you!”

She tried to speak but her throat was dry and the tears were beginning to form. “Enough of that goddamn crying!” Stein said. “Stand up and look away from me.” She quickly stood and turned her back to him. “Now, take off that gown and bend over and spread the cheeks of your ass.” She brushed the tears away and did as he ordered. “That’s all Richie sees in you, a place to stick his cock. You could weigh four hundred pounds and have a hair lip and a humped back. It wouldn’t matter to him. He can’t tell the difference between a Ming vase and a common sewer. To that drooling idiot you are less than a whore, less than an object. You are only an ass he can fuck wherever he wants to.” He paused to let his words sink in. “Now,” he began again, “you know exactly what the situation is. No deception, no surprises. Tell me you don’t want to marry him and I’ll leave immediately, and I swear you will never hear from any of us again.”

As he spoke he watched her legs begin to tremble. She uttered a small cry of despair, but remained bent over exposing her anal opening to him. The inner lips of her vagina began to glisten. Stein leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Straighten up and turn around,” he said. She felt cold and a bit dizzy. Her gown lay on the floor beside her. She wanted to put it on but was afraid to reach for it. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly. “Well, Mrs. Ryan, what is your answer?” She bit her lip and shuddered. She was about to reply when he held up his hand to stop her. “Before you speak, Mrs. Ryan, there is one other matter which we should clarify.” He motioned for her to sit.

She glanced at her gown but sat down naked, her knees pressed close together. “I have wondered,” he said, “if pleasing me by agreeing to my propositions is what gives you the most pleasure. Your offer to marry me suggests that might be the case.”

“I think…” she began, but he cut her off.

“Let me finish,” he said. “Whether you wish to accommodate me or not doesn’t matter. I must admit that up till now it did. However, I want you to know that regarding Richie I’m completely indifferent as to what you do. Your decision will neither please nor displease me.”

She didn’t believe him. “You know I...” she tried once more to speak but he held up his hand again.

“Mrs. Ryan, hear me out. In all honesty I can’t deny that access to Richie’s share of your new wealth offers interesting possibilities, but my life is comfortable enough as it is. Money is always attractive, but I don’t really need any more of yours. In short, Mrs. Ryan, marry Richie or don’t marry him. I simply do not care. Whatever you decide should and must be based on your desires, yours alone. Do you understand?”

She waited a moment, then looked up. “Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Stein.” She took a deep breath. “You make this easier for me. I can’t marry Richie. I simply cannot do it.” She spoke so softly he could hardly hear her. She looked down at the floor.

He heaved himself out of his chair and gathered up his papers. “Perhaps it’s just as well,” he said. “Richie is not at all happy about the prospect of being your husband.” He looked down at her and smiled. “Isn’t that astonishing? Richie doesn’t want you.” At the door he turned back. She was staring at her hands which lay folded in her lap. “Goodbye, Mrs. Ryan. I suggest you go to Boston. Pack a bag and this time keep going.” He opened the door.

“Please, Mr. Stein,” she said, “I...I...think maybe...” she couldn’t finish.

He came into the room closing the door behind him. “I realize that changing one’s mind is a woman’s prerogative, Mrs. Ryan, but there are limits.”

She stood up. “But I didn’t say...” she paused. “Yes,” she said.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes,” she looked away, then down at the floor. “I feel I need to...no, that’s not it. I want to marry Richie.”

“How much?”

“What do you mean?”

“How much do you want to marry him?”

She turned away and leaned against the arm of the couch. “Very much,” she said.

“Why?” Stein asked.

“I don’t know. Truly I don’t. I’ve tried to figure it out. Maybe I am losing my mind.” She looked directly at him.

He shook his head. “No, you are perfectly sane. Different, but sane nonetheless.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

“Trust me. We will talk about it when there’s time.” He returned to his chair and sat down. “Now, to the business of your marriage.” The words made her feel sick. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” she said, and knew she was saying it because that’s what he wanted to hear. She didn’t love Stein. It wasn’t that at all. But she felt this unexplainable compulsion to please him and pleasing him excited her.

“As I told you, Richie is quite reluctant.”

“But won’t he do as you say?” she asked.

“He will, but in a matter as important as this I’d feel better if he were at least halfway convinced that a marriage to you could be in his self-interest.” He paused. “Do you think you might persuade him?” He saw her back stiffen as if she’d been shot.

“When?” She turned to face him.

“Now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought this might become a problem so I brought Richie along. He’s in the cab.”

She drew in her breath trying to stifle a cry of rage that was swelling in her chest like a huge bubble. He had tricked her again. Richie was here. In a moment he would be in her house. And then she felt the tightening in her chest and the tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach.

Stein picked up her gown and offered it to her. Quickly she put it on and fastened it. Stein had pushed the drapes aside and was rapping on the window. “The objective, Mrs. Ryan, will be to raise his level of expectation. We must not only prove to him that you are most anxious to become his bride, but that you are eager to serve him in a variety of ways.”

She heard Richie on the steps. “I still don’t...”

“You have a pretty mouth, Mrs. Ryan. You might consider using it.” Richie pounded on the door. Stein motioned to her. She opened it and Richie lurched in, almost knocking her over.

“Sh...sh...shit,” he said.

“Ahh, Richie!” Stein shouted warmly. “You must be half frozen. Come over here by the fire.” In the firelight Richie appeared more menacing than she’d remembered. He wiped his nose and mouth on his sleeve, glaring angrily at her. “Mrs. Ryan,” Stein said, “I’m sure you remember Richie.”

She could hardly bear to look at him. Spittle hung from his chin and dropped onto the rug. “I’m glad you’re here, Richie,” she said, forcing herself to take a step in his direction. Richie stared at her sullenly. “Can I get you something? A drink?” She tried to smile.

“A...a...ass,” he hissed.

“He wants to see your ass,” Stein said. Richie’s hand was rubbing his crotch. Stein took her arm and led her over to the fireplace. “Show him,” he said. She turned her back to Richie and bent over. She began to pull up her gown. “Slowly,” Stein instructed. “No, Richie, leave it in your pants, at least for now, “Stein chuckled. She drew the black gown up, gradually revealing her splendid legs and the firm round buttocks which, in the flickering firelight, seemed to move. Without being told, she spread her cheeks.

“Fu...fu...fu...fuck,” Richie stammered.

“No,” Stein said. “Not tonight. After the wedding.”

“To hell wi...wi...with a wed...wedding!” Richie drew the back of his hand across his slobbering lips. With his other hand he automatically stroked the bulge in his pants. He looked from her to Stein then at the floor. After a moment he shook his head, “N...n...nuh...won’t d...d...d...do it,” he mumbled.

“But she hasn’t proposed yet,” Stein said, smiling. “At least let her do that.” He turned to Kathy.

“Richie…” she began.

“Mrs. Ryan,” Stein stopped her and pointed to the floor in front of Richie. She got down on her knees before him. He smelled of sweat and stale urine. His torn work shoes were thick with grease. They fit loosely around his skinny ankles. For a long while she stared at the cracked toes of his shoes. Finally she said in a voice that was barely audible, “Will you marry me?”

Richie glanced at Stein who carefully formed a word with his mouth. Richie nodded. “B...b...beg,” he said. Instantly she recalled the night in the warehouse and heard again Vinnie’s harsh demand that she moan. And now, on her knees before his slobbering son, she would not...she would not. There were other ways. In front of her Richie’s grimy hand still fingered his cock. She reached up to touch him. He jumped back cursing. She lost her balance and fell forward on her hands.

“B...b...beg, yuh f...f...fu...fuckin’ whore!” he shouted. She looked up at him. He was grinning, his broken discolored teeth, his wet lips, the drool seeping from the corner of his mouth. In the light and shadows cast by the fire he seemed not so much a mindless idiot as a fearful incarnation of something both cruel and cunning. The sight of him sickened and frightened her.

To herself she repeated, “I will not beg...I will not beg,” but even as she said it, she was aware that she might be able to come simply by squeezing her legs together.

She got to her knees again and looking once more at the tips of his shoes tried unsuccessfully to control her voice and hold back the tears, “Please Richie, will you marry me?”

He glared down at her, “B...b...beg muh...muh...more,” he said.

She looked at him this time. “Please, Richie, don’t you see, I am begging you. Please. I will be a good wife. I will...I will do everything you ask.”

Richie glanced at Stein who nodded his head, “I’m sure Mrs. Ryan will make you happy Richie. Won’t you, Mrs. Ryan?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll try very hard.” She was aware of the stickiness between her thighs.

“And she no longer has any feeling at all for her late husband, do you Mrs. Ryan?”

There was a burning in her stomach and for a moment she was afraid she might be sick. She lowered her head. “No,” she whispered, “none.”

“And why don’t you, Mrs. Ryan? Is it because of Richie?”

“Yes,” she replied in a monotone, “It’s because of Richie.”

Stein winked at Richie. “Your first husband wasn’t nearly the lover Richie is. Isn’t that correct, Mrs. Ryan?” She nodded her head. “Convince him,” Stein demanded. “Richie needs to be persuaded.”

Kathy continued to stare at the tips of Richie’s shoes, forcing herself to say the words she knew Stein wanted to hear. “Mr. Stein is right, Richie. My husband could not...” she swallowed, “he...he... could not please me the way you do. I mean the way...the way...the way you do it to me.” The burning in her stomach had moved like hot fingers down to her crotch. “You...you are a real man, Richie.”

“Say the words, Mrs. Ryan. Tell Richie how you feel about him,” Stein urged. “Say the words.”

Richie was grinning. She looked up at him, then bowed her head. “You...you have made me fall in...fall in...love with you,” she whispered.

“I don’t think he heard you,” Stein said.

With her head still bowed she spoke louder this time, “I...I have fallen in love with you, Richie, and I want to be your wife.” The tears had stopped. She was conscious only of the heat between her legs.

“Show him,” Stein said.

Tentatively she reached once more for his hand and, gently pushing it aside, she pulled down his zipper. The urine smell was stronger. His saliva dripped on her neck and slid down between her breasts. She took his stiff penis in her hand and pulled back the foreskin. She noticed a small scar on the dark head of his cock. It was the same as the tiny “U” shaped marks that branded her own nipples. Without hesitating, she touched her lips to the scar in a way that was both tender and maternal. The feeling lasted only a moment. Then the hot flood of desire spread like oil just beneath the surface of her skin. She glanced up at Richie. His lips were drawn back in a hideous grin. The sight of him nauseated her. “Please,” she whispered. His cock jerked in her hand.

“Duh...duh...do it,” he said.

She leaned forward and her soft lips closed over the head of his cock. Sliding her mouth down its length, she took it in. Her head moved back and forth, slowly. With her right hand, she cupped his balls and squeezed them gently. She withdrew his cock and stared at it. It twitched and glistened in the firelight. The tiny scar was now bright red. The thought that she was sucking where they once sucked excited her. She pictured a leech, perhaps the big one, stretching the length of Richie’s cock hungrily feeding.

Richie grunted and reached to pull her against him. She gripped his cock firmly at its base, her tongue circling its head. Richie made a guttural sound in his throat and grabbed for her hair, but she had already taken him in and was milking his cock with her mouth. It dripped with her saliva. Her swollen lips slid back and forth along its length until she, too, began to whimper and moan softly.

When he began to come she jerked back, but then quickly closed her mouth over his cock and held it there swallowing the hot spurts of his jism. With one hand she continued to squeeze his balls and with the other she held his cock in her mouth until he finished coming.

Richie supported himself on the back of a chair, grunting, and panting, and slobbering. Kathy tucked his limp cock back inside his pants and zipped them up. She remained on her knees, looking down at the floor.

“Ahh, Richie!” Stein said, “you’re a lucky man. She never sucked off her husband like that, did you Mrs. Ryan?” Kathy didn’t answer. “Speak up, Mrs. Ryan. Richie wants to know if you ever did it like that for your husband...suck like that and take all his come in your mouth?”

Kathy didn’t look up. “No,” she said softly, “no, Richie, I never did it like that for my husband.”

“What does that mean then, Mrs. Ryan? Tell Richie what it means.”

“I don’t know what it means,” Kathy said.

“I’ll tell you what it means.” Stein leaned forward. “It means you got a taste for Richie’s jism. It means you’re going to be Richie’s cocksucker. It means you’re going to let Richie fuck your cunt anytime he wants to. It means you’re going to let Richie fuck your ass anytime he wants to. It means your mouth, and your cunt, and your ass will belong to Richie. It means you’re going to be Richie’s woman. Isn’t that true, Mrs. Ryan?”

Kathy nodded.

“Tell him,” Stein said.

Kathy looked up at Stein then at Richie. “Mr. Stein is right, Richie. I will be your woman.”

“G...g...g...good,” Richie said.

Stein laughed. “After the wedding you can have her whenever you want. Mouth, cunt, ass...everyday. She will be your wife and do whatever you want, won’t you Mrs. Ryan?”

Kathy looked away from both of them. “Yes,” she said.

“Say it, Mrs. Ryan, tell your man.”

“You can have me, Richie, however you want as often as you want. I will be yours.”

“Okay, I...I...I’ll do it.” Richie was smiling and shaking his head as Stein ushered him out the door.

“Good boy, Richie. I’ll take you to the cab.” He paused in the doorway. “Very persuasive, Mrs. Ryan. I think you’ve got yourself a new husband. As soon as I get Richie in the cab, I’ll be back to complete the arrangements.