F/Stop
<1
Winning the Lottery
“Sue” by February_Love, ID1350641696 licensed from Shutterstock.com
MAY 7, 1970.
Thursday was a tough day, through no fault of our own. Anna took off for Rockford. Ronda and I walked with Patricia and Toni to daycare and then Patricia’s job. Then Ronda and I walked over to her campus. There were still some students ducking into classroom buildings, a little furtively.
“I hate to see people acting afraid to go to class because everyone else is out. It’s dividing everyone.”
“That’s not all,” Ronda said, pointing across the commons area.
A group was marching onto the commons with signs that disagreed with the prevailing tide. “Kill all Commie Traitors!” read one sign. “Honorable Peace Through Victory in Vietnam,” read another. I saw a couple of ROTC uniforms among them. I didn’t think they were supposed to do that, but what do I know?
“Open the school!” one person shouted.
“Open up! Open up! Open up!” the group chanted. It was hard to take them seriously as there were only twenty or thirty in the group. They stayed clustered close together and there were four or five police officers standing around them. It looked like they were expecting to be attacked.
I snapped a couple of pictures and changed to my 150mm lens so I didn’t need to get too close. There were ten times as many students off to our left holding protest signs and singing songs. They weren’t engaging with the counter protest.
Except one lone guy. He came right up to the front of the group and started handing them flyers. One of the policemen stepped between him and the group and tried to get him to leave. I took pictures of the confrontation, in which the leaflet guy was arguing with the policeman. He stepped away and reached inside his jacket. Somebody in the crowd yelled, “Gun!”
The police officer turned back to the leaflet guy and saw his hand in his jacket. He pulled his gun and shot the guy three times. The other police converged from the sides of the crowd as the mob cheered. The shooter was on his knees beside the body and opened the kid’s jacket. There was nothing there but a piece of paper.
I maneuvered in closer so I could get a straight shot of the officer over the body. Damn Chicago pigs. Now they come onto campus and shoot unarmed students.
Except this cop wasn’t one of the usual pigs. He was kneeling next to the body crying. I took the picture.
Like usual, I’ve raced off with what’s on my mind and left you far behind. You don’t even know who I am or why I was taking pictures of a protest with my girlfriend beside me. I guess I need to go back a few months to make sense of all this.
It started back on December 1, 1969, when the first draft lottery of the Vietnam War had just been held. I’d drawn number 233 and immediately burned my draft card. Then I passed out. I’d drunk an entire bottle of wine and smoked a couple of pipe loads. That’s where I was when Ronda got in from her Russian dinner study session for her final exam coming up in the morning.
Oh, I’m Nate Hart, photographer, studying art photography and photojournalism at Columbia College. I have four phenomenal girlfriends and I love each of them from the bottom of my heart. Ronda is living with me in Chicago and attending the University of Chicago. Anna is attending Rockford Business College in Rockford, Illinois. Patricia is living in Tenbrook with her daughter Toni, and driving into the city almost every weekend to be with us. And Elizabeth has been on tour as a comedienne since July, but will be back home in a few days.
There are other people, of course, but I’ll re-introduce them as the story progresses.
“Nate! Nate! Are you okay? What happened?” Ronda screamed as she shook me.
“Mmm. You look delicious. Come here and let me eat you.”
“Nate! You’re drunk!” She was surprised. I’d never even gotten really tipsy before. I was only twenty.
“Oh. Yeah. You’re right,” I said.
“Why? What happened?”
“Draft lottery,” I said.
“Oh, my God! I didn’t know it was tonight. You should have told me. I would have been here with you. Oh, God! Are we leaving? Do you need me to drive tonight? If we can wait until morning, I can have Patricia and Anna here. We’ve all been ready to run since the draft board hearing. I just didn’t realize tonight was the night. My God, Nate! We need to get you sober and out of here.”
“It’s okay, hon. I’m not going to be drafted. I got number 233. I drank a lot of wine while I was waiting.”
“Oh! Oh, that’s a relief. Are you sure that’s too high to be drafted?”
“They’d actually have to declare war on all of Asia before they get to my number,” I said. “Besides, I burned my draft card.”
Ronda looked at me with her mouth wide open. We’d talked about protesting on different occasions, but it had always been in terms of making a public statement. I’d burn it during a protest in Washington, or in Mayor Daley’s office, or in front of the draft board office in Huntertown. Now that I thought about it, burning it in private was pretty stupid. Who would ever know? In two years, no one had ever even asked to see it.
“Um… They’re not supposed to draft felons. So, if I get called, I’ll confess.”
“Nate, you’re an idiot. But I love you anyway. Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad it’s all over. Come to the bathroom and take a shower with me and then make love to me. I love you so much. And I still should have been here with you. Patricia and Anna and Elizabeth should all have been here with you. What kind of family are we that lets our husband face that kind of thing alone? I should have gotten drunk with you.”
“Oh, Honey, I only got one bottle of wine. We could only have gotten half drunk together,” I laughed.
I thought that was pretty clever, but Ronda groaned and pushed me toward the bathroom. I guess I did stink. A shower was just what I needed.
I remember being in the shower and just touching Ronda as much as I could. She’d once called boys like that ‘octopuses’ and I guess I qualified. But damn! Her boobs are the most perfect in the world. She got me clean and my teeth brushed, and never once tried to stop me touching her. Unfortunately, when we got to bed, I passed out again.
I really didn’t feel like getting up in the morning. My head hurt. Ronda gave me a cup of coffee and a kiss and told me she’d see me tonight and not to get drunk again. I decided to cut class.
About ten, I called Cassie and was told I had an appointment at one-thirty, so I’d better get in to the studio. I groaned. Another member of the Whore Corps was coming in.
The Whore Corps. What a misnomer. They just wanted to be differentiated from the God Squad. Leslie, a fashion photographer in my study group, was the only one I thought might have loose morals. And even though we’d fucked in every possible position when I did her photo, I didn’t think she was really promiscuous. Carol, the second member of the Corps who came in for a photo, was a virgin. She got pretty excited when I got her naked, but we weren’t about to go all the way. This time, it would be Sue Renton. I’d seen her and probably spoke once. I knew she was a music major and in order to be in the Whore Corps, one of her parents had to be a teacher. Other than that, nothing.
I drank another cup of coffee and forced down some ham and eggs with a piece of toast. It was better. I showered and trimmed up a little. I was going to consider getting rid of the beard. Like my peace symbol, it seemed to make me a target for Nixon’s ‘great silent majority.’ More like Lederer’s Nation of Sheep if you asked me.
Well, what did I have to worry about. I didn’t even have a draft card anymore.
I met Sue Renton at the studio at one-thirty and had to admit that she was very pretty. She carried a violin case and I thought of the way we’d worked with the Las Vegas model who carried a recorder. I’d love to have a whole collection of beautiful nude musicians.
Cassie told me to call her if I needed something, but she was swamped with the month-end accounting. Leanne and Theresa were both unavailable, so I was alone in the studio with Sue. We sat on the couch to chat before we started work.
Sue wore a very professional suit that she could wear onstage in an orchestral performance. She had perfect makeup and her hair was pulled back. The suit had a white blouse and black jacket, and a long black full skirt.
“Well, I thought I’d use the opportunity to get a good professional portrait, you know?” she said. “I’ll be out on my own after spring semester and I’m circulating my resume and a reel of my music. So, I figured we could start with this outfit and a neutral background. Musician portraits are almost always with their instrument.”
“Let’s start there, then,” I said. “I think we’ll use the red backdrop. That won’t look red in the photo. We’re doing black and white. It won’t have the stark contrast to your outfit that white or light blue would have, though.”
I set up the backdrop and low stool while she got her violin and bow out. I remembered doing a shot a long time ago of a girl with her ‘fiddle.’ I wondered if there was a difference. I led Sue to the stool and we got started. I changed lighting a couple of times. It seemed the most important part of this would be to have a great picture of her face with an indication that she was holding her instrument. I adjusted the lighting a couple of times and really could have used Theresa or Leanne’s help.
“Tell me about how you feel when you are playing,” I said.
“Oh, when I’m in the orchestra, everything is focused on the music and the conductor. It all has to be perfect. A conductor and every critic in the audience will know exactly who in the orchestra struck the wrong note or held it too long. The musician is there to realize the music of the composer exactly as it is written and the conductor coordinates it.”
“It sounds very technical.”
“Yes, but that’s only the orchestra or concert. When I’m alone, I sometimes imagine my violin is my Prince Charming and I’m making love to him. I dance while I play, I sway, and I caress the strings.” She lowered her voice dramatically. “My first orgasm came while I was playing.”
“I would like to capture that,” I said. “I think we need something other than your black skirt and jacket for this. Something more fairy like.”
“Leslie said I would really be pleased if I just put myself in your hands. I was worried about that, but she said there is no fucking in the studio and you wouldn’t try to force yourself on me. If that’s all true, I’m yours to do as you please,” Sue said.
“That is a beautiful thing to say to me, Sue. I won’t abuse your trust. I find, though, that this is a two-way street. It needs to reveal your love affair with the violin. Let us say you were in your tower, waiting for your lover, your Prince to arrive. What would you be wearing?”
“Really? It would be something light and filmy so even Gervais could coax it off of me.”
“Gervais?”
“Oh. My Prince Charming. My violin is Gervais.”
“So happy to meet him. Let’s see what we can find.”
The girls had done a spectacular job of finding or building gauzy gowns, knowing my predilection for light material that would blow in a fan breeze or drape revealingly across a bosom. I selected one that I thought would work well and then looked at Sue’s professional diamond studs in her ears. I saw this as being more a setting for something dangly. We’d put in a collection of costume jewelry of all kinds. We’d even brought a few pieces back from our last trip to Stratford. I chose a pair of earrings and took her behind the privacy screen.
“Now, let’s get you changed,” I said, casually taking her jacket off and hanging it on the rack. She caught her breath at the implication that I was going to help her change her clothes, but didn’t say anything when I found the zipper of her skirt. “I’d like to do a couple of things with your accessories. Would you mind trying these earrings?”
While she leaned forward to remove her studs and fasten the new earrings, I simply reached around her and unbuttoned her blouse. As soon as her hands were free, I pulled the blouse off and hung it to join the skirt and jacket.
“Can we take your hair down a bit?” I asked. “Is it long enough for a ponytail?”
“Yes. You don’t want it just falling around my shoulders?” she asked. I removed the pins that held her tight bun.
“We might try that later, but I just love your neck. That’s why the long earrings. They accent the line of your neck. So, for a while at least, I’d like to make sure it is exposed.”
I stroked along the line of her neck on to her shoulders and she breathed deeply. I got the ponytail fastened and used the opportunity to simply unfasten her bra. She looked surprised to find her bra in her lap and her breasts exposed. They were lovely! The weight created just a slight crease beneath each breast, but I was pretty sure they’d pass the pencil test. Her rosy nipples were hard and the areolae just as big as a half dollar. I hung the bra with her other things and gathered the gown to carefully guide over her head.
“I think we need to take the pantyhose and shoes, too,” I said as the gown reached her waist. I simply hooked the waistband with my thumbs and guided them on down her legs as the gown fell to full length. I knelt and removed her shoes and took the pantyhose off as well. She did not wear underwear beneath the hose, and her full bush was light enough that I didn’t think it would be distracting.
I led her back to the stage area and changed to the black backdrop. I repositioned my fill lights so that they shone through the sheer gown and highlighted her shape.
I got the camera ready and began taking pictures as I had her move in a sensual dance, holding the violin in her hand.
“Play for me now,” I said. “Make love to your Prince Gervais.”
It was beautiful. As she continued to move, I adjusted her gown, dropping it from her shoulders, then taking it off one arm as her left breast came into view. I made sure to pet it and continue to stroke her torso until I returned to the camera and took more shots. Eventually, the gown was around her waist and I guided her down to the floor. I carefully positioned her leg so the backlight would clearly show its shape. I used a high light to accent her curves and let her back fade off into the shadow. I arranged the skirts of her gown in folds around her and had her rest the violin on her leg, just lightly holding it vertical. The bow lay on her skirt. I took a shot and returned to her, reaching under to touch the sole of her foot and bring it up to tiptoe.
“Are you feeling in love?” I whispered as I returned to take another picture.
“Oh, yes,” she sighed. Her eyes drifted closed and I took the picture.
I slipped behind her and sat so she could lean against me. I undid the ponytail and fluffed her hair around her shoulder, pulling it back to kiss her neck lightly. She sighed and picked up her bow.
“The problem with having a violin as a lover is that he requires both my hands. I make him come, but I never quite get there myself until I put him away,” she whispered.
“Play him,” I answered. “I’ll be his hands.”
She played something I didn’t recognize, which was pretty easy to do with classical music. It had a lot of long slow strokes and I took that as a hint as to how she wanted to be touched. I fondled her breasts and dipped my finger in her deep navel. Then I pushed the gown off her lap so she was only sitting on it. As I stroked up her leg toward her pussy, she shifted slightly to open herself to me. I continued to caress her and kiss her shoulder and neck.
The playing became more plaintive, almost begging, and I dipped my fingers into her vagina and stroked up, dragging her lubrication around her clit. The playing almost stopped and then started again with renewed vigor, the pace picking up. I took that as my signal to pick up the pace myself. With two fingers inside her, probing for the hotspot I knew must be there, my thumb strummed her clit.
The violin reached a crescendo as a deep moan escaped her lips and her playing slowed down again. I slowly withdrew my fingers as she caught her breath, continuing to slow her playing to gentle strokes.
“Hold that position,” I whispered. “Keep playing and hold right there.”
I slipped from behind her and returned to the camera to take the final three frames on the roll.
Then I held the case for her as she gently put the violin and bow away. As soon as they were secure, I picked her up and carried her behind the privacy screen. She was not quite finished. I sat with her just to hold her and she turned to kiss me deeply. She pulled my hand back to her center and we kissed as I thrummed her clit to another orgasm. As we kissed, she managed to unfasten and unzip my jeans and open them up enough to expose my hard cock to the air.
She slid off my lap to the floor and engulfed my cock in her mouth, playing the same tune with her mouth on my cock as she had played on the violin with her hands. My explosion in her mouth was complete. I petted her hair as she rose back to my lap and I kissed her again.
“Your violin is a very lucky prince,” I whispered.
When I got home, Ronda was waiting for me with dinner. She was completely naked when she met me at the door, which was by no means an unpleasant sight. She seemed very nervous, though, and kissed me with passion that made me think she wanted to pick up where I wasn’t able to continue last night.
“Am I late?” I asked as I started shedding my coat and hat.
“No. You’re right on time,” she gasped. “I just want you naked so I can sit in your lap for a while before dinner.”
“How did your Russian final go?” I asked.
“Fine. We probably should have spent part of our study time last night writing notes to each other, but I think we probably all did pretty well. I think Russian is going to be an important language for us for a lot of years to come.”
“Better than needing to learn Vietnamese,” I laughed.
“Yes, but that’s what I want to talk about,” she said as she led me to the beanbag chair I’d passed out in the night before. Ronda had insisted we get the piece of ‘furniture’ as soon as she saw one. I had to agree it was especially nice for cuddling in.
“What about Vietnam?” I asked as she settled into my lap and kissed me again. She handed me a letter.
The fucking draft board. No wonder she was nervous after my condition last night. What did the bastards want now? She kissed me again.
“I’m with you this time. If you want to fuck before you read it, I’m ready. If you want to fuck after you’ve read it, I’m ready. But please don’t run away from me. It can’t be anything that affects us today, can it?”
“Honey, even if they tell me I’m I-A and will be subject to the draft after January 1, they’re never going to get to my number.” I tore the envelope open and read the letter aloud.
Nate Hart,
The State of Illinois Selective Service System Board has heard your appeal of the ruling of the Hunter County Selective Service System Board and has ruled in your favor. Your II-S deferment is restored as long as you continue to make satisfactory progress toward your bachelor’s degree at Columbia College by June 1, 1972. At that time, your local draft board will resume management of your case. Study hard.
Jerome Lignon, Secretary
State of Illinois Selective Service System Board.
Ronda was all over me and there was no question that we were going to have sex right damned now! Right there in the beanbag chair. That was just fine with me. Really. Ronda and sex were inseparable in my mind. She was the smallest of my girlfriends and was just unbelievable. I still couldn’t understand the circumstances that brought us together, or how we’d developed such a deep relationship that we could withstand the circumstances that threatened to tear us apart. I loved this girl!
And when my cock penetrated the folds of her sex and she began riding on top of me in that chair, I was in fucking heaven.
“The letter was dated Friday, November 28. They must have had a bunch of stuff due out before the end of the month to get them to send it on Thanksgiving Friday,” I said as I took another bite from the Chicken Kiev Ronda had prepared. I was happy she was studying Russian. This was great.
“I’m just so thankful that it’s all okay,” she sniffed. When we sat at the table, she served the food and then sat in my lap to feed me. She was dripping my come on my legs. I didn’t care.
“You know, it’s ironic. They’re turning me back over to my local board when I graduate. If they hadn’t ruled to extend my deferment, I’d have been eligible all through 1970 and then be done with it. Now, I’ll end up being eligible in 1972. If the notice had been dated today and received later in the week, I’d suspect that someone was manipulating it. But they dated this before the lottery. I suppose that if I had number fifteen or something, I’d be ten times more thankful to have this deferment.”
“But by 1972, it will all be over. Nixon is withdrawing troops. He wants an all-volunteer army and full Vietnamization of the war as soon as possible,” Ronda said. She’d probably discussed this in her International Affairs class at the university.
“That’s fine if you believe anything Nixon says. Which I guess most people do. My guess is that he’ll get enough troops out by November of 1972 to win re-election and then he’ll find a way to throw them right back in. There’s too much money being made off the war to let it end.”
“You’ve become cynical, Nate. We need to have some faith that good will be victorious.”
“That’s exactly the line Nixon is using. Only his definition of good and my definition of good are kind of at odds.”
“Is this really going to be a problem?” she asked as she fed me another bite of chicken.
“No,” I said with finality. “I’m through borrowing trouble from the future. I want to live with my wonderful girlfriend and make love until the world ends.”
“I think you’ll be living with all of them soon,” Ronda giggled.
“Sweetheart, you are the one naked in my lap right now. This weekend, we’ll have to make room for more.”
“That won’t be a big deal, will it?” she asked.
“No. When they aren’t with us, I miss them like crazy. Sometimes I have trouble remembering what Elizabeth looks like. But it’s only a little more than a week until she gets here,” I said.
“Well, this weekend, you’ll get a swap. I’m going to Rockford to be with Anna for the weekend. Patricia is going to be here with you. And little Miss Toni is staying with Grandma for the weekend. I hope you don’t have much scheduled,” Ronda said. We’d left off eating and were just petting each other. I was getting hard under her butt again.
“I think my schedule was just filled,” I said.
“I think I’d like to get filled again, lover. What do you think?”
The dishes and leftovers stayed on the table as I carried Ronda to the bedroom and had her way with her.
I called my attorney Wednesday and told him the “good news” about the state hearing and approving my appeal. He congratulated me and wanted to know if I wanted him to withdraw from the case against Warren.
“Absolutely not!” I said. “He still needs to answer for the way he’s misused his position to send minorities into the army. At least the lottery should put an end to his ability to do that. Do you think the whole board is in collusion with him?”
“I don’t know that I’d go that far,” Lowell said. “They might not have consciously been aware that it was going on. But they’ll go a long way to protect one of their own. Right up until the point where he becomes a liability to the whole board. I’ll contact Allen White and tell him we’re in it for the long haul. He’ll be glad to know that you are still the spokesperson for the plaintiffs.”
“I don’t understand any of the legal stuff, but if you need me to speak out somewhere, just let me know.”
I met with my study group Thursday afternoon at the studio and showed them the first print I’d pulled from my session with Sue Renton.
“That girl was walking on air when we met Tuesday night. The other girls are lining up for their turn,” Leslie said.
“Just as long as they don’t all want to come at once,” I said. “I’m really trying to moderate my client intake next term.”
“They all want to come. Whether they come at once doesn’t matter,” Leslie giggled. “Hey, are you taking the color course next term?”
“Yeah. I guess so. I’m not enthused. It’s not just the artistry of it, but you have to depend on so many other people. But, like you with fashion photography, I need to do color work in order to do justice to Leanne’s makeup and costume creations,” I said.
“How soon can we do another one?” Leanne asked.
“We could do one in black and white now,” I said. “But I honestly don’t expect one in color until the end of next term.”
“Oh! I have a design that will look great in black and white. I think I know a model for it. She’d be perfect. You’ll have to help with the paint. I’m guessing it could take us both as much as two hours to paint her, but it would be fun. Um… We should probably practice a couple of times, you know?”
“Let’s wait until this term is over so I can shake out some time that isn’t spoken for,” I laughed. “And if I’m going to practice on you, I might have someone help.”
“Ooh. I could always use that kind of help,” she giggled.
“My body’s a blank canvas. You can paint me,” Carrie chimed in.
We all started laughing. I turned to Devon.
“How’d you do in the lottery?” I asked.
“Ninety-something. It doesn’t matter.”
“Devon, I can stow you away in Canada for as long as you like,” I said.
“No. It really doesn’t matter. I’ve already reported for induction and walked out classified IV-F, unfit to serve.”
“Unfit?” Carrie asked.
“Well, technically, they say not qualified. It seems the US Army has a thing against homo cross-dressers.”
“God, Devon. I can’t believe you went through that.”
“I did it last summer. I don’t know what I’d have done if they’d accepted me. Kill myself, probably,” Devon said.
“Like Rick Bradshaw,” Leslie said. We all looked at her. I knew Rick slightly from my dormitory days.
“What about Rick?” I asked.
“Oh, God, you don’t know. I’m sorry. Rick’s birthday was September 14. They found him dead of a heroin overdose in his room Tuesday,” Leslie said. “I thought everyone knew.”
“I guess I missed the news. Crap.” That was unsettling. I’d gotten drunk and I wasn’t even really at jeopardy. Rick had overdosed when his lottery number was called as 001. Another dead from the War in Vietnam.
When I got home from my last class on Friday, Patricia was standing in the kitchen wearing an apron. And a smile. That was all.
“Sweetheart! You’re here!”
“And you’re stuck with me,” she said. “Ronda took my car and went to spend the weekend with Anna.”
“And our little pumpkin?”
“Not happy that Mommy was going to see Uncle Nate, but quickly satisfied when Grandma said they were going shopping for new clothes in Dubuque tomorrow. That little girl has more clothes than I do!” Patricia laughed as she fell into my arms for a long and luscious kiss. She started working on my buttons.
“I’ll miss her, but not enough to prevent me from enjoying her Mommy in my arms and in my bed,” I said. “Did you want to go out tonight?”
“No. I made the infamous Hart family recipe for spaghetti and meat sauce with lots of garlic. Taught to me by Grandpa Rich himself.”
“Dad does like to use a lot of garlic.”
“Yeah. I figured that out. He handed me a whole bulb of garlic and said the recipe called for one. I peeled it all and chopped it up and threw it in the olive oil. I snuck a look at his recipe card and it said ‘one clove.’ No wonder the whole apartment building smells of garlic now!” she laughed.
By this time, she had my clothes off me and was carrying them to the bedroom.
“How much time do we have before dinner is ready?” I asked as I pulled her naked body to me and kissed her.
“The sauce is simmering and I haven’t put the pasta on to boil yet,” she said, returning my kiss with fervor.
I pushed her back slightly and she fell onto the bed. I fell to my knees and pushed hers apart as I buried my face in her pussy.
“Yes, oh, yes! We have lots of time!”
It was a good thing we did. By the time I was finished licking her pussy and then fucking it energetically and once again softly and lovingly, we were both really hungry.
“I wish I’d been here,” Patricia said. “I couldn’t stand to watch. Dad watched it and told me when it was over. I tried to call you, but I couldn’t make my fingers hit the right keys. I just lay in my bed crying for the rest of the night. I went out to the cemetery Tuesday morning and told Tony he didn’t have to go. His birthday was April eighth—number 312. He didn’t have to go.”
Patricia wept and I held her in that beanbag chair where I’d watched the drawing. My pipe and ashtray were sitting on a low table nearby. Of course, the ashes from Monday were long gone.
“I should have been here to hold your card while you lit it on fire. I’m so glad you don’t have to go,” she continued. “But, Nate, if there is any reason at all, I’ll still go with you to Canada forever if we need to. No matter what happens with the lawsuits and accusations in Huntertown, Toni and I will go with you and stay with you always.”
“I love you, Patricia. I want you to be with me always.”
“I love you, Nate. I’d move in with you now, but I want to give Elizabeth time and room to adjust before we all start piling in. She’ll need to adjust to living with Ronda as well as with you. I’m sure she’ll be shocked when she discovers the other three of us are lickety-slit. I never expected that, but you know what? Anna and Ronda really taste good. Especially when they’re full of Nate’s semen. And I love them. I just want them always to be happy with us.”
“You girls all amaze me. Whatever we do, we need to find a way to live together.”
My weekend with Patricia was wonderful. We went walking in a couple of the parks and around the University of Chicago campus. I took her up to the studio and she no more than walked in than she started taking her clothes off. I knew what to do about that. I started taking pictures.
We went on a props hunt and found a baby doll and an old fashioned doll cradle. I found a red plastic wig that looked like it could have been used for a mannequin in a store that couldn’t afford real wigs. When I posed my sexy doll with the cradle and the doll baby, it looked like Barbie was a single mom. We had fun with it, but Patricia was tired of playing a mommy when she was one. So, we changed sets and eventually, I got a great photo of her looking just fucked.
We had to work hard on that pose.
Our weekend came to an end when Ronda and Anna arrived for Sunday dinner. They’d had as good a weekend as we had. After we’d enjoyed each other’s company for a while, Anna and Patricia headed west again, leaving Ronda and me to our domestic life. I had just a few classes left before finals and Ronda was out for the year-end holidays. She became very domestic and by the time I got home from classes on Tuesday, we were feeling very married. So, it was a real surprise as we were eating pork chops with potatoes and gravy that evening when she smiled sweetly at me.
“Your mistress called today. We had a lovely chat.”
“My… What?” I said, wondering what kind of prank was being played on me.
“Adrienne, silly. She said she misses you and wants to come for a visit,” Ronda said.
“Oh. Geez. She’s serious? I don’t know about that.”
“She sounded so lonely. We talked for an hour. So, she’ll be here New Year’s week. Won’t it be fun? We’ll all still be on break with Anna and Patricia living here and Elizabeth will be home.” Ronda started giggling as I thought about adding Adrienne to the mix of my four girlfriends.
“That sounds like a recipe for disaster. You can’t mean to say you’ve invited her to stay with us.”
“No! What kind of mistress would share the house with the wives? She’ll stay in a hotel. It was her idea, actually. But she does want to meet all of us. We have a lot in common. I’m looking forward to getting much better acquainted with her.”
“Ronda, Adrienne is a sweet person, but she has some really strange kinks. She might not be a good fit for our family.”
“Oh, I know. We talked a lot about them. She is into being tied up and fucked in the butt. I like having you hold me tightly while you come against my anus. I can see her attraction. She’s bringing a book with photos of knots and ropes. She says it is very decorative and sexy,” Ronda explained.
“I’ve had to do that with a client once. It wasn’t just looping a rope around her wrists, like we’ve pretended with a scarf. When we’ve played that way, the bondage was always pretend. This woman wanted the ropes pulled tight and to not be able to resist anything that I might do to her,” I said, remembering my session with Sylvia Drummond last spring. She’d used those photos to drive her husband, my patron, into a rage so that he attacked her and her bodyguard killed him. Then she’d turned around and given me my large format camera. I hadn’t heard from her since. Thank heavens!
“Well, I think it will be interesting to learn things from her. And I know you enjoyed your time with her in September. The photos were exquisite. Did you like fucking her?” she asked.
“Ronda, how can you ask something like that? I don’t love her. You are asking a strictly dick question. Does my dick like fucking? Yes. Adrienne was particularly enthusiastic about it.”
“If you really don’t want to see her again, I’ll call her and tell her not to come. But it seems that we might all need a little extra fun once in a while. As she said, she’s not the kind of woman you marry. She’s the kind of woman you fuck when your wife’s away. Or while your wife is watching.”
“We should check with Anna and Patricia. And Elizabeth. I won’t have her here messing up our relationship,” I said. I was trying to do the right thing and resist the temptress from Los Angeles. But the very thought of Adrienne made my dick stiffen.
“Already talked to Anna and Patricia,” Ronda said. “I’ll discuss it with Elizabeth this weekend. She gets into town in just two days! Won’t that be fun?”
“I hope we still click. Five months is a long time to be apart.”
“We’ll see. People do it all the time. They get sent out on jobs to Alaska or to war in Vietnam. They come home and have wonderful loving relationships with their families. It will be okay.”
It was a curious thing. Elizabeth had been gone since we left Las Vegas at the end of July. Touring with Danny Carlisle had been a much different lifestyle than what the rest of us had lived.
When we first started our relationship, I talked to Beth a couple of times a week, sometimes for a long time. If it was going to be an especially long call, I’d walk to the phone booth in front of Center Marketplace and she’d call me there. Sometimes, she was closer than my Tenbrook girlfriends because we didn’t do anything but talk. She seemed to know what I needed, like a model with a handicap to photograph after we buried Tony.
But since she’d been on tour with Danny, we didn’t talk more than once a week and sometimes it was two weeks between calls. We never knew what her phone number would be, so we couldn’t call. Her schedule often had her free to talk when we were in class or the studio. I wasn’t even sure what she looked like these days.
I found out Thursday when she walked into the studio where my study group was meeting.
“Honey, I’m home!” she called from the top of the stairs.
I knocked my chair over, jumping up to rush to her arms and welcome her home.
“You’re back, you’re back, you’re back,” I said, as I placed kisses all over her face.
“Danny dropped me off here on his way home. I don’t need to worry about anything until the show tomorrow night,” she said, kissing me again. Then she turned to my study mates. “Oh, hi, guys! I remember you. Do you mind me stealing my fella away for a while? I know you must have a ton of studying to do.”
“Hi, Beth,” Leanne said. She knew my girlfriend better than any of the others because she’d been with us in Las Vegas. “It’s good to have you back in town. We’ll manage without Nate. It’s only final exam week coming up.”
The dig was missed entirely by Elizabeth and almost by me. I gathered my things and we called a cab to get home since Beth had her suitcases parked just inside the Camera Warehouse front door.
She was different. Her hair was curly. It had always been wavy, but now it was more… clown-like. Her makeup was perfect for going out in the evening. It was a little much for a college student going to class. And she was excited about her upcoming show. It was her homecoming to Chicago. She seemed more excited about that than being home with us.
I led her up to our sixth-floor apartment, carting her bags.
“Ronda! I’ve brought Elizabeth home,” I called.
Ronda bounced around the corner wearing her usual apron and nothing else. I felt Beth catch her breath.
“You’re back,” Ronda said happily. She rushed to give Beth a hug. “Let’s get you out of all those uncomfortable clothes.”
“Um… Ronda, could we… I… not get naked until I have a chance to adjust to being back? I haven’t even seen the apartment yet,” she said. Ronda jumped back.
“Oops! I didn’t think of that. I’ll be right back.”
Ronda ran into the bedroom to pull some clothes on. I don’t think she’d worn anything in the apartment for weeks. Clothes were what we put on to go to class or to get groceries.
“Can I… uh… take your coat?” I asked.
“Of course. I didn’t mean to be rude, but being back is so different than being on the road. I need a little time to adjust.”
I took her coat and hung it with mine on the coat tree we had by the door. Then I led her into the rest of the apartment.
“It’s not huge, but it’s been plenty big enough so far. Afraid the fireplace in the living room is just for show. We’ve decorated in early attic with touches of Avant Garde. The sunroom is usually open like this, but when Toni is here, it’s her space. Hence all the toys.”
“How is the little love?” Beth asked, leaning against me.
“Running everywhere and talking a mile a minute. I think she learned to run before she learned to walk. I mean always on the run or dancing.”
Ronda came out of the bedroom dressed in slacks and a sweater, but still barefoot.
“Sorry for the titty display earlier,” she said. “Really, Beth, it’s good to have you home.”
“Oh, thanks, honey. You didn’t really need to get dressed, I just wasn’t ready yet. You know how Nate always starts with a fully clothed portrait before he gets his models naked. I just need that little transition time,” Beth said.
“Of course! Hope you’re good with a home-cooked meal tonight. It’s just Nate’s famous chili. Not too hot for any of us. I made cornbread to go with it.”
“Oh, man! Sounds like heaven. I’ve had 157 straight days of eating in restaurants, or room service in my hotel room. Nate’s chili and your cornbread sound yummy.”
We got around to eating and all relaxed as the evening progressed. Beth had brought a bottle of wine in her luggage and we all had a glass, but refrained from any more.
“I learned my lesson a week ago Monday,” I said. “Drank a whole bottle and ended up passed out in the beanbag.”
“I was in Cleveland,” Beth said. “I want you to know that I was watching. I didn’t know what to say or to do, but I had your birthdate written down on a slip of paper in front of me and waited. I was relieved and tried to call, but I got a busy signal.”
“Nate had knocked the phone off the hook when he stumbled through the kitchen,” Ronda said. “We didn’t discover it until breakfast.”
“That explains it. I got busy. We left for Detroit Tuesday morning and I spent the entire bus trip writing. I had to run it by Danny and his manager, and then overnight a copy to my manager. But they finally approved it. They had me add a couple of jokes. But mostly, the new routine is the way I wrote it. Tomorrow night will be the first time I’ve used it.”
It took us a while getting ready, but eventually, we all ended up in bed. Naked. We just held each other and kissed and petted a little. Having Elizabeth in bed with us was almost like having a stranger in bed. We were getting used to each other again, but it was going slowly.
Beth wasn’t awake yet when I got up to go to class Friday morning. I kissed her softly and she mumbled that she’d ‘see me tonight.’ Ronda gave me a kiss at the door and then went back to bed. The next time I saw Elizabeth, she was Starr on stage.
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
