«I’m awfully glad to see you,» she said. «Dolores and I are always talking about you… Don’t you want to drop up for a minute? Dolores will be delighted to see you. We have an apartment together. It’s right near’ here. Do come up… I’d love to talk to you a while. It must be over a year since I saw you last. You had just left your wife, you remember? And now you’re living with Arthur— that’s strange. How is he getting on? Is he doing well? I hear he has a beautiful wife.»
It didn’t require much coaxing to persuade me to run up and have a quiet drink with then. Irma seemed to be bubbling over with joy. She had always been very friendly with me, but never this effusive. I wondered what had come over her.
When we got upstairs the place was dark. «That’s funny,» said Irma, «she said she would be home early this evening. Oh well, she’ll be along in a few minutes, no doubt. Take your things off… sit down.. I’ll get you a drink in a minute.»
I sat down, feeling somewhat dazed. Years ago, when I first knew Arthur Raymond, I had been rather fond of Irma. When they separated she had fallen in love with my friend O’Mara, and he had made her just as miserable as Arthur had. He complained that she was cold—not frigid, but selfish-I hadn’t given much attention to her then because I was interested in Dolores. Only once had there ever been anything approaching intimacy between us. That had been a pure accident and neither of us had made anything of it. We had met on the street in front of a cheap cinema one afternoon and after a few words, both of us being rather listless and weary, we had gone inside. The picture was unbearably dull, the theatre almost empty. We had thrown our overcoats over our laps and then, more out of boredom and the need of some human contact, our hands met and we sat thus for a while staring vacantly at the screen. After a time I slung my arm around her and drew her to me. In a few moments she let go my hand and placed her own on my prick. I did nothing, curious to see what she would make of the situation. I remembered O’Mara saying that she was cold and indifferent. So I sat still and waited. I had only a semi hard-on when she touched me. I let it grow under her hand which was resting immobile. Gradually I felt the pressure of her fingers, then a firm grasp, then a squeezing and stroking, all very quietly, delicately, almost as if she were asleep and doing it unconsciously. When it began to quiver and jump she slowly and deliberately unbuttoned my fly, reached in and grabbed my balls. Still I made no move to touch her. I had a perverse desire to make her do everything herself. I remembered the shape and the feel of her fingers; they were sensitive and expert. She had cuddled up like a cat and had ceased to look at the screen. My prick was out of course, but still hidden under the overcoat. I watched her throw the coat back and fasten her gaze on my prick. Boldly now she began to massage it, more and more firmly, more and more rapidly. Finally I came in her hand. «I’m sorry,» she murmured, reaching for her bag to extract a handkerchief. I permitted her to wipe me off with her silk kerchief. Not a word out of me. Not a move to embrace her. Nothing. Just as if I had watched her doing it to some one else. After she had powdered her face, put everything back into her bag, I pulled her to me and glued my mouth to hers. Then I pushed her coat off her lap, raised her legs and slung them over my lap. She had nothing on under her skirt, and she was wet. I paid her back in her own coin, doing it ruthlessly almost, until she came. When we left the theatre we had a coffee and some pastry together in a bakery and after an inconsequential conversation parted as though nothing had happened.
«Excuse me,» she said, «for being so long. I felt like getting into something comfortable.»
I came out of my reverie to look up at a lovely apparition handing me a tall glass. She had made herself into a Japanese doll. We had hardly sat down on the divan when she jumped up and went to the clothes closet. I heard her moving the valises around and then came a little exclamation, a sigh of frustration, as though she were calling to me in a muted voice.
I jumped up and ran to the closet where I found her standing on top of a swaying valise, reaching for something on the top shelf. I held her legs a moment to steady her and, just as she was turning round to descend, I slid my hand up under the silk kimono. She came down in my arms with my hand securely fastened between her legs. We stood there in a passionate embrace, enveloped in her feminine frills. Then the door opened and Dolores walked in. She was startled to find us buried in the closet.
«Well!» she exclaimed with a little gasp, «fancy finding you here!»
I let go of Irma and put my arms around Dolores who only feebly protested. She seemed more beautiful now than ever.
As she disengaged herself she broke out into her usual little laugh which was always slightly ironical. «We don’t have to stay in the closet, do we?» she said, holding my hand. Irma meanwhile had slipped an arm around me.
«Why not stay here?» I said. «It’s cosy and womb-like.» I was squeezing Irma’s ass as I spoke.
«God, you haven’t changed a bit,» said Dolores. «You never get enough of it, do you? I thought you were madly in love with… with… I forget her name.»
«Mona.»
«Yes, Mona… how is she? Is it still serious? I thought you were never going to look at another woman!»
«Exactly,» I said. «This is an accident, as you can see.»
«I know,» she said, revealing more and more her smothered jealousy, «I know these accidents of yours. Always on the alert, aren’t you?»
We spilled into the living room where Dolores threw off her things—rather vehemently, I thought, as though preparing for a struggle.
«Will I pour you a drink?» asked Irma .
«Yes, and a good stiff one,» said Dolores. «I need one. …Oh, it has nothing to do with you,» she said, observing that I was looking at her strangely. «It’s that friend of yours, Ulric.»
«What’s the matter, isn’t he treating you well?»
She was silent. She gave me a desolate look, as though to say—you know very well what I’m talking about.
Irma thought the lights were too strong; she turned out all but the little reading lamp by the other divan.
«Looks as though you were preparing the scene,» said Dolores mockingly. At the same time one felt that there was a secret thrill in her voice. I knew it was Dolores whom I would have to deal with. Irma, on the other hand, was like a cat; she moved about softly, almost purring. She was not in the least disturbed; she was making herself ready for any eventuality.
«It’s good to have you here alone,» said Irma, as though she had found a long lost brother. She had stretched herself out on the divan, close to the wall. Dolores and I were sitting almost at her feet. Behind Dolores’ back I had my hand on Irma’s thigh; a dry heat emanated from her body.
«She must guard you pretty close,» said Dolores, referring to Mona. «Is she afraid of losing you—or what?»
«Perhaps,» I said, giving her a provocative smile. «And perhaps I’m afraid of losing her.»
«Then it is serious?»
«Very,» I answered. «I found the woman I need, and I’m going to keep her.»
«Are you married to her?»
«No, not yet… but we will be soon.»
«And you’ll have children and everything?»
«I don’t know whether we’ll have children… why, is that important?»
«You might as well do it thoroughly,» said Dolores.
«Oh, stop it!» said Irma. «You sound as though you were jealous. I’m not! I’m glad he’s found the right woman. He deserves it.» She squeezed my hand, in relaxing the pressure, she adroitly slipped my hand over her pussy.
Dolores, conscious of what was going on, but pretending not to notice, got up and went to the bathroom.
«She’s acting queer,» said Irma. «She seems positively green with jealousy.»
«You mean jealous of you?» I said, somewhat puzzled myself.
«No, not of me… of course not! Jealous of Mona.» «That’s strange,» I said, «I thought she was in love with Ulric.»
«She is, but she hasn’t forgotten you. She…» I stopped her words with a kiss. She flung her arms around my neck and cuddled up to me, writhing; and twisting like a big cat. «I’m glad I don’t feel that way,» she murmured. «I wouldn’t want to be in love with you. I like you better this way.»
I ran my hand under the kimono again. She responded warmly and willingly.
Dolores returned and excused herself lamely for interrupting the game. She was standing beside us, looking down with sparkling, mischievous eyes. «Hand me my glass, will you?» I said. «Perhaps
