The Making Of A Gigolo 10 Liz SindersonChapter 7
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The latter part of June came with unseasonable heat and humidity, because of rains that threatened to ruin the wheat farmers’ harvest, but didn’t quite.
Business was brisk at the country club pool, where the “elite” of Granger gathered. As a watering hole, it was well stocked, and the pool was shaded on one side by old trees that had been saved when the pool was installed.
Elizabeth Sinderson, just having turned twenty-five, and married now for two years to Jeff Sinderson, owner and operator of the Sinclair gas and service station on Jefferson street, lay on her chaise lounge in the sultry heat. She was wearing a bikini that her husband had bought her, and insisted she wear whenever they were at the country club pool. Jeff was thirty-seven, divorced once, and now remarried to his pretty young wife, of whom he was inordinately proud. She had come into the station for gas one day, two years ago, wearing a nice summer dress that showed a lot of her gorgeous legs. She’d parked at the full service pump instead of the self serve island. Jeff had gone out to take care of her, since his other employees were busy making him money, working on cars.
Standing there, looking down the front of her dress, and at those legs, Jeff had gotten a boner. The sweet young thing hadn’t seemed to notice.
The fact was that Elizabeth had noticed, both his wandering eyes, and that boner. She had just broken up with her boyfriend, and was on her way to a wedding, which made her feel a little sorry for herself. On the rebound, she had enjoyed being ogled, and had gone back four times in the next week. She’d had to drive around endlessly, just so she needed gas for one of those times. Twice, she was “worried about a tire”. The fourth time, when she complained of a “rattle” under the hood, he had finally suggested that maybe, after work, he could take a look at her car... “You know ... kind of give her the once over ... to make sure everything is okay.”
That had taken an hour and a half, which had involved him mostly standing by her car, and talking to her. When he was finished with the car, he had suggested coffee. She had countered with dinner. Two weeks later, she was straining under him as his penis soothed her emptiness. Two months after that, they were married.
She loved him, or at least she thought she loved him. She wasn’t at all sure she knew what love felt like. He was a good provider, and a nice guy, even if he was older than her. The sex was good, or at least she thought the sex was good. She’d only had one other lover to compare him to, and both of them were pretty much the same... “quick out of the gate, but without much wind,” as her grandfather would have said. He’d raised horses all his life.
She’d been able to quit her job, which was a great thing, from her perspective, and her car had never run better. All in all, things seemed pretty okay to Elizabeth Sinderson. There was only one tiny glitch in what she thought of as her happy life, or what she believed was her happy life.
That little glitch was something she had known about when she married him. He had even told her. It was what had caused his previous wife to take off and leave him with the house, two cars, and all the furniture. She had been quite sure that it wouldn’t be a problem for her, though.
Jeff had been proud of his first wife too. He’d loved nothing more than walking beside her, while other men lusted after her. He had bought her slinky clothes too, like the bikini Liz was wearing right now ... a wispy thing that covered her, but left little to the imagination. He had paraded his first wife in front of his friends, and even strangers, taking her to other towns, where she was encouraged to accept the dance offers of strangers.
One of those strangers had taken her away from him.
He was quite honest about it, when they were courting. He admitted to Liz that he’d made horrible mistakes. At the same time, he’d admitted that he couldn’t get that little kink out of his psyche. He’d promised her that he wouldn’t ask her to do things like that, and he’d tried, very hard, not to. She knew that. But she also knew that, whenever they were out, and men looked her up and down, and undressed her in their minds, like lots of men seemed all too eager to do, Jeff’s lovemaking, when they got home, was more ardent by far, than when they just had a quiet evening out.
That’s why she wore the bikini at the country club. She wore it for Jeff, even though he was usually watching the men, to see if they were looking at her. He was doing that right now, sitting at a table with his friends, smoking cigars, and drinking brandy.
She rolled her head toward her friend, Miranda Tibbs, who was a year younger than she was. They had gone to school together, been separated, and then re-united at the club, all these years later.
“They’re watching us again,” she said, reaching for her iced tea.
“Of course they are,” said Miranda. “We’re gorgeous.”
Liz laughed. “You like it, don’t you?”
“Don’t you?”
“I guess so,” said Liz. “It just isn’t what I thought married life would be like. Before I got married, I would have worn something like this to catch a man. It just feels odd, somehow, to be wearing it now.”
“Why do you wear it, then?” asked Miranda, who was in a one piece suit that clung to her like a second skin.
“Jeff likes it,” said Liz.
“My husband would kill me if I wore something like that,” said Miranda. “He made me put extra cloth in the bra of this suit, so my nipples wouldn’t show.”
“Jeff’s not like that,” said Liz. “He likes it when men look at me. It excites him.”
“You’re a lucky girl,” said her friend. “Dick would be so jealous he’d pop a vein or something.”
“Dick is one of the men looking at us,” said Liz.
“He’s a horny old goat,” said Miranda, about her twenty-seven-year-old husband.
“Well,” said Liz. “So is Jeff, but he’s a lot hornier if men have been looking at me.”
“That must be fun for you,” said Miranda.
“It’s just weird, that’s all,” said Liz. “You’re my friend ... right?”
“Of course,” said Miranda, leaning forward. That kind of comment usually led to something interesting, and she was ... interested.
“I mean, if I told you something ... about Jeff and me ... it wouldn’t go any farther ... right?”
“I’m hurt that you’d even think it could,” said Miranda, really interested now.
“Jeff likes more than just having men look at me,” said Liz, tentatively.
“You mean he wants men to... do things ... to you?”
“He would,” said Liz. “I mean I’ve never done that, except to dance with a stranger, now and then, or something like that. It makes him crazy in bed when I do, though. But that’s why Sally left him. She had an affair with some guy, because Jeff wanted her to, but then she decided she liked that guy more than Jeff.”
“Wow,” said Miranda.
“And I don’t want to have an affair anyway, but he fantasizes about it a lot. He hasn’t asked me to do anything - I think he’s scared the same thing will happen with me as happened with Sally - but I know it excites him. Isn’t that weird?”
“Yes,” said Miranda immediately, followed by, “but it makes me hot too, to think about it. I mean, getting to be frisky with some hot stud would be fun, if it didn’t go too far, you know?”
“I don’t know about that, but I know that if something like that happened, he’d just be insane in bed. And I like that idea just fine!”
“What you need to do is find you some guy who will pay some attention to you, but who you can pull the plug on if things go too far,” said Miranda. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful? To have a boy toy to play with ... just a little ... and get your husband going?”
“As if men like that exist,” laughed Liz.
“I don’t know,” said Miranda, drawing out the “ow” and making it sound like “ohhhh”. She leaned closer to Liz. “There are rumors, you know ... like about Felicity Chumley?”
“Of course there are rumors about Felicity Chumley,” said Liz. “Her husband is eighty-something and she just had a baby!”
“Well, I think I know who might have done that,” whispered Miranda. “I think it’s somebody I know ... and that you know too!” She sounded excited.
“Who!?” gasped Liz. She was just as addicted to gossip as anybody else.
“Remember in school, that dreamy Bobby guy? He sort of kept to himself a lot ... had all those sisters?”
“Bobby Dalton?” asked Liz. “No way! He was so shy that one time, when I asked him a question, he almost ran off.”
“What question did you ask him?” giggled Miranda. “How big is it?”
Liz reached out to slap at her friend’s arm.
“Of course not. It was something about when an assembly was, or something like that. He just looked at me and told me the time and then was off like a shot.” Liz frowned. “It couldn’t be him. What makes you think it is?”
“I keep hearing his name. He’s a handyman, you know. He’s been in practically everybody’s house in town. He can fix anything, apparently. But it’s how his name is said that made my ears prick up.” Miranda frowned too. “I’ve asked several women about him, but they clam up.”
“Miranda!” chided Liz. “Don’t tell me you’re looking to have an affair!”
“Of course not,” said Miranda. “Dick is all the man I need. Still...” she seemed to be thinking. “It’s always fun to have a man pant after you.”
“I can’t imagine Bobby Dalton panting after anybody,” said Liz. “He was like a scared rabbit.”
“Well, think about it,” said Miranda. “You were the head cheerleader, only the most popular girl in school. Every guy in the place probably fantasized about you when they went home, hid in a closet and beat off.”
Liz flushed. “You’re horrible!” she hissed.
“Hey, I’m just saying,” said Miranda. “I was jealous as hell of you, back then. Still am sometimes, for that matter.”
“You’re my best friend!” said Liz, almost sitting up.
“That I am, Lizzy,” said Miranda, rubbing sun tanning lotion on her arms and neck. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t admit to the facts. Every man around here is staring this way, and I don’t think it’s to try to see the nipples that Dick is so hot to have me keep hidden.”
That night, Liz crawled into bed with her husband.
“Did you have fun seeing all those men ogling me at the pool?” she asked, sliding her hand across his chest.
“It was hot,” he sighed. “I’m so lucky to have you. I’m hornier than a three antlered moose right now.”
“Well do something about it, then,” she said.
“I can’t,” he moaned. “I used the last condom, and forgot to get more. Couldn’t you please just go on the pill or something?”
“Honey,” she crooned in his ear. “You know they make me retain water. I look all puffy and fat when I take them. Then nobody would want to look at me.”
“We could have a baby,” he said, hopefully.
“And ruin this perfect figure?” she asked, pulling her hand back to her naked breast and cupping it. “You want these to get all swollen and full of milk, and make me look like a cow?”
“You’d look so good pregnant,” he sighed.
“With my stomach out to here?” she squealed, holding her hand a foot away from her flat abdomen.
“Yeah,” he sighed, “and with your breasts full of milk. Man! That would be so fine!”
“Well,” she said, “we can talk about that later. Right now you can put your nasty old naked cock in me, and make me feel good, but you have to pull out and shoot it on my stomach, okay?”
“Ohhhh baby,” he groaned, as he rolled over and got into position.
It was good for both of them. This was only the second time since they got married that he was in her without protection, and they both felt the difference. Both liked it a lot, but he honored her demand, and when the time came, he pulled out and jacked off on her belly button.
The only problem was that she’d been just about to have an orgasm when he did that, and, when the sensations in her pussy stopped, she was disappointed. She liked the feel of his warm spend on her stomach, and she rubbed it all over her, but she also had to slide a hand down and finish what he had left unfinished. She was careful not to slide a spermy finger into her pussy, but she was able to flick her clitty and have that orgasm.
As usual, he rolled over and fell asleep almost immediately and, as usual, she lay and stared at the ceiling in the dark. Sex didn’t make her sleepy. If anything, it woke her up. She got up, went to the guest bathroom and ran the water until it was warm. Then, using a wash cloth, she cleaned up.
She had to sit on the toilet and rub off again, before she felt satisfied.
Then she went to the living room, still naked, closed the drapes, turned on the lamp on an end table, and picked up the book she was currently reading. She read four chapters before she felt sleepy and rejoined her husband. She would have read more, but she kept thinking about what Miranda had said about Felicity and Bobby Dalton. There hadn’t been a divorce, and that had caused almost as much gossip as the fact that she had gotten pregnant in the first place. Something must have gone on there. Maybe it was like what Jeff liked. Maybe Chester Chumley, since he probably couldn’t do anything himself, had gotten excited when Felicity was ... paid attention to ... by another man.
She couldn’t just go up to Bobby Dalton and ask him if he’d do something like that. How in the world could she even broach the subject?
And Bobby Dalton wasn’t the only reason she couldn’t pay attention to the words on the pages of the book she was trying to read. Jeff was going to have a birthday in two weeks. She’d always had trouble trying to figure out what to get him for his birthdays. He had enough ties and cologne and tools. He didn’t wear much jewelry. She’d never had to choose presents for a husband. Christmas was hard enough, but his birthdays were the worst. Well, to be honest, anniversaries were just as bad. Their third wedding anniversary was also coming up, though it was still two months away.
It was purely by chance that Elizabeth Sinderson ran into Felicity Chumley at the grocery store. Normally, Felicity’s maid, Annie, did the shopping, because she worked with Ramona in the kitchen. But Annie was taking care of the babies, Charles and Felicity (sometimes called Felicity Jr.). They took turns being nannies, and Felicity had begun doing some of the work that Annie usually did, when Annie was taking care of the children. She had decided not to hire a full time nanny, for the simple reason that she and Annie liked taking care of their babies themselves.
Felicity saw Liz, whom she knew from the country club, and said, “Liz!! Hi!.”
Liz, who had been thinking about Felicity, and Bobby, just stared.
“Is anything wrong?” asked Felicity, seeing the woman looking almost ill.
“No,” said Liz. “Could I ask you a question?”
“Of course,” said Felicity.
“Never mind. I can’t, really,” said Liz, as she blushed brighter. “It would be rude.”
“Maybe I could be the judge of that,” said Felicity.
“Do you have time for coffee?” asked Liz.
“That wasn’t rude at all,” said Felicity, smiling.
“I didn’t mean ... that wasn’t the question...” stammered Liz.
“And you want to ask me the question over coffee?” asked Felicity.
“If you have time,” said Liz, feeling foolish.
“Well, as long as the cold things don’t sit too long in the car, I guess I could take time for coffee,” said Felicity.
They finished shopping and Liz followed Felicity to the Wagonwheel. Once installed in a booth, Felicity looked expectantly at Liz.
“I’m not trying to pry,” said Liz, trying to find a way to broach the subject. “But I have this problem ... sort of ... and you might know the man who could ... help me.”
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