Dr. Francoise Lambert continued the interview that, if passed successfully, would qualify Tami Smithers for the final phase of the International competition, the fashion show and presentation in Montreal.
"What type of shirring do you prefer in synthetic overgarments?"
"I should say... bias style, to reduce the risk of bunching."
Rod knew that the short pause in Tami's answer was to keep a gasp from interrupting the flow of her voice. From making love to Tami he was well acquainted with the telltale quiver in the legs, the slight tensing of the taut muscles in her tummy. The spreading of the toes. Dr. Lambert might have ascribed this to basic nervousness which would be only to be expected during such an important interview. Rod knew it was something much more profound, explosive, deep, disruptive...
Tami's body jerked slightly. Fortunately the Doctor was looking down at his questionnaire at the time. Her nipples got even stiffer than usual.
As the Doctor recited his fourth question, the tail behind Tami quivered. Then it began waving back and forth like a dog's.
Rod looked on in horror and suddenly Barbara and Melissa were at his side. They were fixated on Tami anyway, no matter where in the room they were, but the glimpse of the wagging tail was like an alarm -- they knew exactly what it meant and they were there like a shot. Rod and the two TL's looked at each other and then at the tail, still wagging from side to side, then at the face of poor Tami as she struggled to answer the fourth question.
Tami, bringing her hand up in a carefully controlled motion, scratched her head and paused, as if pondering what to say. Then after the last uneven wag, she gave her answer, no doubt having "played back the question in her head", as she would have put it.
"What's happening?" Barbara said.
"I don't know!" Rod said. Once again he brought the empty remote out of his pocket to prove his innocence.
"Someone must have another remote around here!" Melissa said. The three of them looked around, glances darting all around the room in as subtle a way as possible.
"Jesus," Rod said, watching his naked wife listening to another question, standing straight up in her nakedness before the seated personage of Dr. Francoise Lambert, bare feet placed a foot apart on the carpet, her hands clasped primly in front of her plum-colored lower hair. "Tami's really suffering!"
"She should excuse herself," Barbara said.
"No, Tami wouldn't do that," Rod said. "I know her. This interview means a lot to her parents. And to the school, I bet."
"I like to see her come, but not like this!" Melissa said. She looked around. "Some evil person is around here!"
"I didn't even think there was another remote!" Rod said. Then he exhaled and gathered his thoughts. "Let's split up and check every person!"
They tried not to be frantic but each of them bumped into someone as they turned. Rod scoured the main area between the bar and the entrance. Melissa checked around the edges of the room. Barbara checked around the circular bar itself. As it turned out everyone's hands were visible and nobody was holding anything except drinks and hors d'oeurves.
They met in front of the bar and watched Tami from a distance of fifteen feet. They saw the clenching butt muscles, and now the tail began moving back and forth again, back and forth, back and forth, every 0.8 seconds... all the time she was carefully answering the Doctor's latest question. They thought of the explosive energy the tail detonated inside her, how it made her jump halfway to the ceiling... all that energy now contained in the iron vise grip of her self-control, finding a crimped outlet now in the slight motion of her hand up to her head, smoothing away a lock of hair that had gotten loose from its braid...
In his desperation Rod decided to call on the assistance of Homer Winant.
Homer was on the other side of the bar, chatting with Gretchen, Professor Ling, Vanessa Congi and Mrs. George. "Could I speak with you?" He decided to go for broke; Tami needed all her friends at a time like this. "In fact all of you." How to explain it? "You see that tail Tami has? Well, it's not just a tail. Inside it's... it's..."
"It's a sex toy, yes I know," Homer said. "Works by remote, as I understand."
"Well here's the remote," Rod said, waving it in front of them. "See? I took the batteries out! Tami's going through that interview; and it's somehow gotten activated. Look!" They watched as the tail wagged again. "That's what happens when she has an orgasm with that thing!"
"Oh Lord!" Mrs. George said.
Gretchen and Ms. Congi and Professor Ling looked with widened eyes.
"Well tell that Doctor guy to stop the interview!" Ms. Congi said.
"I'll try to butt in," Rod said. "IF Tami will let me. Meantime it doesn't solve the problem of that... thing... noodling around inside her."
"Can't she just pull it out?" Gretchen said.
"No, it's expanded inside. That works by remote too. It's expanded to a bulb inside three inches across. It's physically impossible to take it out unless the expansion button is turned off." Rod looked around. "We've GOT to find that extra remote! We've looked around, and everyone here has, um, hands all accounted her."
Homer took charge. "Let's move it! I'll speak to Hank, he's the security guy. We'll search the kitchen, the maintenance room, downstairs... What's the range of the remote?"
Rod remembered the TL's chasing Tami down the street and into Hightop Park. "I'd say two hundred feet."
"Oh shit... it could be anywhere in the terminal... Well, I'll get moving." And he quickly wheeled past the bar and opened a door that said "Staff Only".
"God, I hope there IS an extra remote," Ms. Congi said, voicing what everyone was dreading.
They stood around helplessly, watching Tami suffer through another question. She idly twisted her toes against the carpet, then scratched a nipple. They saw her tummy expand and contract in a deep exhale. The Doctor was engaging her eye-to-eye. Rod and Gretchen, remembering the ride here, and Tami's description of uncontrollable orgasmic responses, wondered if the Doctor could detect the dilating of her pupils. Rod thought about what Tami had said about her trials at Chalfont, about how she tried to get used to them, tried to get used to the orgasms, but each one just ripped her heart out and shook her emotions to the core.
Professor Ling, quickly up to speed on this, said in his professorly manner, "What if there is in fact no other remote? What if that... device... inside her has simply gone haywire?"
"Oh God," Barbara said. She and Melissa looked at each other. "They'd have to extract it somehow!"
"Chalfont has an emergency room," Vanessa Congi said. True. As part of a funding obligation the Chalfont Institute had a small walk-in clinic on the far side, where the highway was, that was open 24 hours. Not widely known among faculty and students. The college had its own health center, and the clinic dealt almost exclusively with people from the town.
"We've got to drag her there first," Rod said. "And that sounds really dangerous. How can they take it out? They'd have to take it apart, inside her."
Though it was not visible through their elegant clothes, all four of them clenched their buttocks at the thought.
A man in a security guard's uniform bolted out of the "Staff Only" door and hurried out of the lounge and down the escalator. Conversation began to die down as there was a sense that something was wrong. People looked around.
Rod didn't want people looking at Tami, he didn't want a whole crowd of people witnessing her in her dire distress. So when he sidled back toward the table where the Doctor was interviewing the standing naked girl he did it as slowly as possible. Gretchen sidled over with him, leaving the three older people to look on from afar.
He got in next to Professors Girardo and Wanamaker, who had been watching the interview intently, not aware that anything was amiss, thinking that Tami showed a little nervousness -- especially that curious nervous twitching of her tail -- but was otherwise acquitting herself quite well.
Now all three looked on in alarm as the Doctor paused in the middle of a question.
"Are you all right, Miss Smithers?" he said.
Tami's eyes were wet and a tear had trickled down which she was wiping away.
"Yes -- I'm OK" -- the tail began to wag, and Tami timed her words in between wags -- "it's just -- hay fever..."
The Doctor laughed. "Oh I quite understand. I sympathize, my dear. I used to suffer from that as well." How relaxed, how casual he was, as he idly tugged his mustache and looked down at his papers to continue the question, question number seventeen.
"Gentlemen!" Rod whispered urgently to Girardo and Wanamaker.
"Please, Mr. Sykes, we're busy," Girard said.
Rod, realizing for all he knew he might be jeopardizing Tami's chances by doing just this, took Girardo firmly by the arm and led him away. Wanamaker followed.
In a carefully controlled urgency he whispered the situation to them. Both men turned in amazement to Tami's tail.
"You mean she is having orgasms while being interviewed?" Girardo said, as if in outrage.
"She can't help it!" Wanamaker said. "We've got to do something!"
Girardo was still having trouble assimilating this sudden and astonishing information. "So every time that tail wags -- I've counted ten times already -- ten orgasms?!?"
"Her capacity is incredible. Look, she's being... violated. We've got to stop this interview!"
"Oh Jesus, this will torpedo our chances at the International for sure," Girardo said. "A candidate who's allergic to clothes, and now she's having orgasms during the interview!"
"You've got to stop the interview!" Wanamaker said, echoing Rod.
"Well go ahead," Girardo said.
"No, you're the head of department. It's got to be you!" Wanamaker said.
He was right about that. Girardo drained the last of his wine and cleared his throat. He had obligations to the school but his obligations to his students were greater. He approached the table where the Doctor sat.
After a brief hesitation, he said, "Dr. Lambert, I must tell you something."
"Please!" the Doctor said in his most imperious manner. "I'm in the middle of the interview. You know it shouldn't be interrupted!"
"But Doctor, this interview must come to an end." Girardo looked at Tami, up and down, with concern that must have told Tami that he was aware of what was going on inside her. "Miss Smithers is not able to continue."
"NO! I'm... OK -- ohhh!" Tami blinked and her body lurched forward and she looked like she was about to cry, having betrayed her emotions for the first time with that little moan. With tremendous effort she straightened herself up, her toes grasping the carpet. "G - give me the next questionnn..." She looked at both men in the eye, with as even an expression as possible, pupils dilating. Behind her, the tail wagged again.
With a very presumptuous motion Girardo took Dr. Lambert by the arm and led him aside. He motioned for Rod, who quickly explained the situation. The Doctor looked at the suffering naked girl in amazement and approached her.
The distinguished Dr. Francoise Lambert, tall and elegant and exquisitely dressed in his three-piece suit, looked down at the naked five-foot-five quivering young woman, who strained to meet his gaze with wet, twitching eyes.
"My dear, I'm very sorry... I've been told about the, uh, device inside you. Under the circumstances we can... postpone the rest of the interview."
Just then Homer busted onto the scene, wheeling in with an urgency that was very unusual for him.
"We've looked everywhere. Nobody has any remote!"
It was then, in the middle of an increasing circle of onlookers, that Tami Smithers shook and collapsed onto the carpet, her butt and the tail sticking up in the air, and began to sob.
In the midst of this elegant restaurant and bar, and the fully dressed, if outlandish, finery of the smart fashion set, the naked girl with the tailed dildo deep in her rectum was on the floor, on all fours, her jerking butt high in the air.
Absurdly, she tried to stand up and apologize to the distinguished men. Her tummy quaking, her navel twitching, she staggered up with a great, slow effort on unsteady bare feet as another crest washed over her, shaking her to the core. "D - doc - torrr... P - p - professsssorrr... I'm s-s-so sorrrry you... have to -- ohhh!" -- she bent forward as if punched in the stomach -- "Seee me like thissssss... ohhhh..."
Dr. Lambert got up to speed much more quickly than Girardo had. "We have to take her to an emergency room," he said. He didn't look it but he was seventy years old, and gay, from an era when being gay was strange and abnormal and one tended to do other abnormal things too. He remembered the ill-advised experiments with tin cans, ketchup bottles, light bulbs. Embarrassing as it was, going to the emergency room was the only solution.
"What can they do for her there?" Rod said. "That thing inside her is too big now to take out!"
"They'll have to break it inside her."
"How?! It will cut her up inside!"
"Make a plaster of paris mold around it, then crush it."
Homer said, "How can they work inside her with her jerking around like that?" They felt like explorers climbing through the vault of Tami's rectum, looking for a way out. Meanwhile, in the outside world, Tami had crumpled to the floor again. The horrified and helpless circle of people looked on as she flopped around like a fish on a boat deck.
"Anesthesia, of course," Lambert said.
"Would that work?" Rod said. Would knocking Tami out stop these intense reactions? This was different than when Spica and the other TL's were at the house that day, toying with Tami like a marionette on a string. The efforts of their fingers on the touch pad ebbed and flowed with Tami's crests and troughs. Here, it appeared that the moving bumps massaging and mauling Tami's innards were continuous. Which was scary. Maybe there was no devious hidden person with a second remote. Maybe the thing was malfunctioning, stuck on "drive Tami crazy!" until whatever batteries worked it ran out. Hours? Days?!
"Oh - oh - oh - " Tami had flipped tummy up now, eyes squeezed shut, her hands and feet supporting her crab-like, jerking her open, palpating pussy up with each spasm, right into Lambert's and Girardo's faces. Her toes spread and squeezed in time.
As they watched this gruesome scene, a strange fascination took hold. Especially on the part of the men, witnessing this spectacular display of the female multiple orgasm. What was it like, to have an earth-shattering climax -- and then, a few seconds later, have another, just as intense? And then another? And another? --
"Somebody do something!!" Terry said. She and Rod looked at each other. The only ones there who had read Tami's freshman year diary, the only ones who knew the horrors the naked freshman had endured at the Chalfont Institute...
Quickly Rod realized something. He pulled out his remote and saw Sarah Wickland's card that he had taped to it. He whipped out his cell phone.
Tami lay on her side, trying to catch her breath. "Oh Rod... please helppp..."
He dialed the number of Mrs. Wickland's office in California, turning away from the scene so as to hear better, so that he faced the glass and the starry nighttime view of the runways. Homer wheeled around to his side.
His heart sank as he heard a recording. "This is the law office of Sarah Wickland." In fact it wasn't Sarah's voice, but the voice of her assistant Nina West. "We are moving this week and will reopen at our new location on Monday, March 30. If you need assistance call the Encino County Lawyers Service at 555-2367."
"Shit!!" Rod said. He said to Homer, who he thought should be in the loop, "a damn recording!"
"Ohhh -- " Tami was in tears, her face beet red, sweating, looking over at him. "Please Rod! Help me!"
"I'm calling Mrs. Wickland!!" he shouted back. With urgent fingers he tapped out the new number. So urgent that he misdialed. Cursing himself, he started over. As he waited, and waited, watching his naked wife in her dire distress, he tapped his foot. Finally a ring. Then another. Then another.
"Good morning," a sprightly female recorded voice said. "Welcome to the Encino County Lawyers Service automated directory. Please say the name of the attorney you wish to contact. Say the first name first, then the last name. You can interrupt these instructions at any time. Don't worry, I won't mind."
"Ohhh... God..." Terry held Tami's hand. Now Trent hugged her as she tried to catch her breath again. Nobody was counting but Tami was recovering from orgasm number fifteen.
Rod hated these voice activated menus. With as even a voice as he could manage, he said, "Sarah Wickland." A long pause.
"Did you say... Farley Pickler?" the sprightly voice said. "Say yes if I have that correct."
"Please try again. Say the first name first -- "
"Eeee!" Tami wailed as she was pulled up to the peak yet again. Terry and Trent looked at Rod desperately.
A pause. "Did you say... Perry Winkler? Say yes if -- "
A pause, punctuated by the sound of Tami's sob. "Did you say... Scary Pinkler?"
"Get me an operator please!" Rod closed his eyes and felt about to cry himself, with frustration.
A pause. "Did you say... Gotmolly Pease?" Sprightly voice.
"Get me an operator please!"
A pause. "Did you say... Gremlin O'Reese?" Sprightly voice.
"Get me a f**king operator please!!"
A pause. "Did you say . . ." -- Trent was trying to give the rapidly dehydrating Tami a glass of water -- "Gotfranklin Reese?" Sprightly.
"Get me a f**king operator please!!" Rod felt like hurling the cell phone through the glass enclosure.
A pause. A long, long pause. Rod wanted to curse but dare not say anything more. "Let me transfer you to an operator."
"Thank God!!" Rod said out loud. When he got a live person, an old-sounding female, he blurted out that he needed Sarah Wickland in a hurry. Then was told Sarah's cell phone was not public knowledge. He was in a private hell before he thought to say the magic words -- "Tami Smithers needs her right away!" Evidently the operator had a note allowing the cell to be given out if Tami called.
Rod tapped out the cell phone number and, afraid of what he might see, turned to look. Tami's body was upright and stretched out into an X, legs apart on the carpet, Terry stretching out her left hand, Trent her right. Her body was all red now and sweating, overheating, dehydrating. Jorge, the bartender, now began aiming water at her from the selzter spritzer hose behind the bar. Jorge must have been risking his job, knowing the water would ruin the elegant carpet. The arcs hit Tami all over, her face, her shaking breasts...
Rod thought of Tami in happier times, sweating after her grounds crew labors, being doused by Jose. And there was that dream about that damn majorette, marching in the freezing cold, then dancing in the jets of fire hoses...
After some hesitating, Jorge conceded the part of Tami that needed cooling down the most, and he began to concentrate the streams on her quaking, pulsating pussy. In an effort to tamp down her reactions, Barbara knelt in front, getting soaked herself, and pulled the outer lips open and apart as wide as she could, so that the ice-cold water could enter her womanly cavity. People crowded around to watch. Tami's eyes blinked and blinked with her gasps.
"Sarah! Tami wore the tail to a party we're at and it's gone haywire! It won't stop! And it's not me! I had taken the batteries out of the remote!"
"That's impossible," the concerned voice said on the phone. "There's -- "
A moment of silence. Then Rod realized the connection was lost. Do I call her or wait till she calls me?
"EEEE!!" Tami's eyes popped open.
Fortunately his cell rang right away and Sarah was back.
"There's only one remote," Sarah said. "I made sure Stirchak destroyed the prototype. And right now there are no pony girls within a thousand miles of you. We keep track of them, you know."
"Ted Stirchak. He's the guy who invented the new tail. A neurologist. He did the research about the crushing testicles -- "
"Where is he? Could you call him? This is an emergency! I don't know how much more Tami can take!"
A short pause. "Yes I can call him. I'll be right back to you."
Tami had collapsed onto all fours, her head down. Evidently in a blessed gap between orgasms. Jorge had stopped spritzing. The place was quiet, everyone waiting to see what would happen. Tami's voice was heard, half crying. "Oh Rod... Rod... help... EEEEE!" Her head jerked up and her eyes bugged out. Not again!
Rod watched as Tami went through the strangest agony a woman can know. She bucked back and forth like a bull trying to throw off a rider. And now, to his horror, he felt his dick getting hard! He was not alone. Almost every straight male was having the same reaction.
The cell rang and he was glad to focus on something else. This time it was a man's voice, with a strange accent. Gretchen, a native of upstate New York, could have told him it was a Buffalo area accent. "Mr. Sykes! Is that you?"
"I understand there's no time for chit-chat so let's go. There's an override code. Put the batteries back in the remote... OK? Now, press the buttons in this order, purple, purple, white, green, white, green, white. After that you're in override and you can press the black 'off' button."
"What am I overriding? Is there another remote?"
"There has to be. The tail won't go on and on just by itself. It's got no internal battery and has to be activated from outside, and besides, there's an automatic shutoff if the signal doesn't vary for more than five minutes. I don't know how it happened but somebody must have made another remote."
Rod fumbled with the batteries and dropped them and then picked them up and finally managed to shove them into in the damn remote. "So what's that sequence again?"
He pressed the buttons as ordered and then, hovering close over Tami, pressed the "off" button and aimed the remote at her as if he was shooting her with it.
Nothing. Tami kept quaking.
He tried it again. Tami kept quaking, waiting for the next onslaught.
"Well then somebody must be overriding the override," Stirchak said. "I just don't know what's going on. I'm sorry about this. Maybe an emergency room?"
Now, an unearthly wail from Tami, as she looked up through the glass enclosure at the black night, and the full moon. Everyone held their breath as she launched into another orgasm, one she dearly did not want, as if in the last stages of an extended, tortured execution devised by... some deviant genius...
"O - ho! O - ho!" It sounded like the wailing of a widow, falling on her husband's casket. With Tami on all fours like that, bucking back and forth with her tail, it might have seemed almost comical, a dog-bitch howling at the moon. That is, unless you loved her and cared about her.
Homer said, "Let's get her the hell out of here and out of range. Meanwhile we'll look again for whoever is doing this to her."
Rod thought: Of course! Why didn't anyone think of this! "Gretchen, can you work a stick?"
"Of course, I'm a farm girl!" she said.
"You drive her to our house. Meanwhile Homer and I will tear this damn place apart."
Terry and Karu and Trent and Gretchen carried the sobbing, sweating naked girl away, holding up her entire weight, her bare feet making only occasional contact with the carpet. She seemed trying to bring her legs together but was unable. "We'll follow behind," Terry said as they left.
"Let's get cracking," Homer said. Again he divvied up the responsibility for searching each area of the terminal, among Rod, Trent, whoever else could help. It turned out everyone volunteered, without exception, including Girardo and Dr. Lambert. "This time look into corners, into closets... When I find that creep I'll either run over him with this thing or strangle him."
It was ten minutes later when Rod got a call on his cell from Gretchen.
"It's stopped," Gretchen said. He could hear in the background the loud clatter of that old VW's air-cooled engine. He pictured Gretchen looking over at Tami, lying on her side in the back seat. "She's crying a bit but I think she's about to doze off."
"Oh thank God," Rod said. At the moment he was sweating, shirt unbuttoned, sitting cross-legged in his destroyed suit on the floor of the restaurant kitchen. "Ask her if she can pull that thing out."
"OK I'll -- oh wait -- she already pulled it out. It's on the floor... Tami? No, she's asleep now."
Well... it will be a good long time before Tami wants to have anything to do with that tail. "Gretchen, thanks. Can you stay over tonight?"
"Sure. She needs taking care of now."
"Amen to that."
Rod sighed, the emergency suddenly over. He looked around him. He had searched under every cabinet, every table. Found out things about this restaurant that he rather would not have known. Like how dingy the sink was. But nothing that looked like a remote.
He wearily dragged himself up and went out to the bar, which Jorge had practically dismantled. Homer was there in his wheelchair. People were coming back from their searches, exhausted. Tables were overturned, papers scattered. The place looked like a bomb had hit it. In the corner, two security guards were conferring, each looking quite perplexed.
"She's OK, out of range now," Rod said.
Homer was frustrated and flustered, not a usual condition for him. "I'll be danged," he said. "So it wasn't a malfunction, there is another remote. But damn well hidden."
The night framed Homer and Rod, up next to the glass walls overlooking the airport. They looked at each other.
Then their heads slowly turned up to the FAA control tower, unapproachable federal property, its silent tinted windows, black in the night, watching over everything.
Of course Tami had to call in sick but he made the calls for her. Everyone on campus knew what had happened; there was no problem with her missing classes and meetings, or her grounds crew assignments. Lots of e-mails asking how Tami was. He answered them all the same. "She's resting. Thanks for your thoughts."
Tami slept for two days. Oddly, she felt uncomfortable on the bed, she wanted to sleep on the cold tile of the kitchen floor. A normal person could not do that but Rod kept reminding himself of her trip across the country nude, sleeping on rocks, desert sand, and stiff dry prairie grass. How he wished he could have rescued her from that. Yet it was part of what made her what she was: strong. He tried sleeping next to her on the floor but couldn't. Finally he dragged the couch into the kitchen and slept on it, waking now and then to look down at her.
Rod made meals for her and walked her to the shower. She was a bit dazed and dead tired. She drank huge amounts of water. He hated himself for having gotten aroused at her torture, hated himself. Yet it was probably a normal male response. He had heard a psychology major friend of his talk about "the wisdom of the penis" -- what turns you on is, on some level, good for you. What a crock!
On the third day, a sunny brisk day with a cool wind, he came home and found the house empty. Then he saw that the TL's had set up a table in the back yard. Upon which was Tami. Each of the six of them was attending to a body part of their naked Queen -- massaging her neck, her tummy, her arms, her legs, her feet. Yet staying away from her sexual parts. That must have taken a lot of self-control on their part.
"We've done this three afternoons now," Barbara said. "I think she's coming around."
"Indeed I am," Tami said, surprising her acolytes, turning around and sitting up cross-legged. She sipped an espresso Melissa had given her. Then she leaned forward and hugged Rod. He pulled her up off the table and she wrapped her legs around him, massaging his butt through his pants with her tough heels.
He felt tears coming to his eyes. "Thanks, girls, thanks," he said.
After a moment, as if in thought, Tami whispered in his ear, "Rod, let's make love. Nice and gentle. I want to get back to what love feels like."
"Oh thank God you're all right!"
The TL's knew to disperse as Rod carried Tami into the house.
Tami and Rod, after lying in bed for a while, hands clasped. They started slow and did manage to make love. Tami was lazy, drowsy at first, as if she was a virgin, uncertain as to where things might lead.
After about twenty minutes she had her first orgasm, a slow, rolling affair. They both sighed with relief, almost crying. Tami had not been permanently damaged by her ordeal. No doubt the love and concern around her had helped. As opposed to being alone and leered at in a cold, sterile lab.
Soon there were other climaxes.
But a problem surfaced. And it was not Tami.
"Nnnhh! Nnnhhh! Nnnnnnhhhh!"
Rod looked up at Tami as she crested yet again. He was so glad that she was back to her old self. That horrible experience at the airport restaurant must have been worse than her travails at Chalfont. True, she was surrounded by people offering love and support, even though they were helpless to do anything aside from hold her hand. Or her pussy lips. That was desperate, Barbara holding open Tami's pussy so that it would be filled with cold water. He supposed that would normally kill any woman's desire, even someone so used to the cold as Tami. But it didn't help.
"Mmmmmmm... mmmmmm..." Tami slowly rode him as she came down to the plateau.
It was grotesque, seeing the spritzes from Jose's seltzer hose shooting into Tami's opened pussy, only to see the water squirted back out again at 0.8 second intervals. A horrible experience for poor Tami. At least at Chalfont it was a controlled experiment. No one knew the cause of the pulsations of the tail deep inside her, it might have been a tail malfunction, going on and on and on, maybe a short circuit, a spark deep inside that might electrocute her...
"Oooooohhhh... love you baby..." Tami bent down to kiss him on the cheek. He expanded it to a tongue kiss and then she straightened up and threw her head back, her whole body trembling as she ascended again.
He cursed himself for not thinking of the obvious solution, finally arrived at by Homer, to get Tami the hell out of there. Then they both looked at the FAA tower and got a creepy feeling. It was only a hundred feet away, if that. To someone working a remote up there, the restaurant would be well within range. And with the glass enclosure, at night, he or she could see clearly what Tami was doing, and would enjoy the poor naked girl's uncontrollable bodily responses. Of course that was just a guess. Finding out what was going on up there in the tower was just unknowable. Even if you tried, you'd probably be suspected of being a terrorist. No, not a good idea for someone in the National Guard completing a scholarship obligation.
He was not much use to Tami during that airport ordeal. At least now, he was useful to her.
"Zhhhh... ohhhh... " This one was mellow, calm, rolling. Not like her violent ones. He wondered what her mind was like right now, what it must be like to feel all that pleasure. Now that her orgasms were voluntary he felt more at ease asking himself the question he had pondered during Tami's torture. What was it like -- to have a shattering orgasm, and then, a few seconds later, another? And another? And another? And -- and so on? Whenever he came, spurting his seed deep into whatever orifice Tami had offered, he always needed at least a few minutes to get hard again. And then it was not easy to have a second orgasm, at least not the past couple of years. From what he knew, it would get even more difficult as he got older. Tonight, he hadn't come even once yet. He had gotten close at the beginning, but he knew he had to last, so he held back. As she was having her THIRD orgasm. And now, though erect, he was quite a ways from the desire to ejaculate.
He looked out the window, to the hedges out back. He could still see them at night because of the streetlight. They were starting to bud, finally. April was almost here, after a wet and cold March. Tonight it was a bit windy. Now one of the azalea buds blew off and arced in a trajectory halfway across the yard, like a long fly ball, before landing in the grass.
The trajectory of that bud -- what year was that World Series? 1991? 1992? That fly ball that won the seventh game. Man, that was some series. Braves versus the Twins. His uncle Cabot, from St. Paul, was visiting with his family and Cabot was in heaven. Yeah, spoiled. The Twins had just won a series a few years before. Meanwhile the Red Sox were into the 70th year or so of their curse. At the time it seemed like the Sox would never ever win again.
Every damn game of that series was a cliffhanger. And then that seventh game. He was only ten years old then but he remembered it vividly. Wait, let me adjust my hip so that Tami's clit gets a better pressure from my dick --
"OH! Yes Rod! Ohhhh..."
Strange. It was one out and a guy on third, bottom of the twelfth inning or something like that. Who was that? Dan somebody. The batter was Gene Larker, he thought the name was, a benchwarmer, and he hit a fly ball that went over Brian Hunter's head in left field. Hunter didn't even try to go for it, he knew it would be deep enough to let that Dan guy tag up and score. He just started trotting in before the ball even landed, as the crowd went wild and Uncle Cabot jumped up and down, knocking his beer bottle over, while Pop smiled tolerantly and said, "How about that!"
"OHH!" Tami's eyes bugged out as she approached a big one. "OHHH! OHHHH! OHHH! Godddd! Zhhhhhh -- OHHH!"
WAS that ball really out of range? He wondered why Hunter didn't run back and at least try for it. The odds were a hundred to one, but this was the deciding play of the World Series, for God's sake. Maybe that Dan dude might have slipped and fallen on the way to home plate, twisted his ankle, torn a tendon. Things like that do happen.
Tami rested her gasping, sweaty self onto Rod's chest. He could feel her nipples poking into him. He massaged her back, right under the shoulder blades. Now she stuck her tongue way into his mouth. Rod returned the kiss and looked up at the ceiling, dully visible with the nightlight on, the Spiderman nightlight she said she had had since she was a kid.
"Mmmmm..." Tami, her sweaty chest slipping over his, moved her hips so that her clit was pushing against his pubic bone. That had been orgasm number twenty-two. "Mmmmm... ohhhhh..."
He looked at the clock radio. It was 8:17, that meant they had been at it for one hour and six minutes. Exactly one orgasm per three minutes. A pretty good clip. He wondered if he could get it down to once every 2.8 minutes. That would be a pretty good E.R.A. He remembered Tim Wakefield, the Red Sox pitcher, trying to get below 3.00, not always with success. Of course, knuckleballers are expected to give up some runs. The important thing is to give up fewer runs than the other guy.
"Gg - ahhh!" Tami jerked in response to a favorable motion against her clit. She tried it again. "Gahhhh... ggg... gahhhh..."
That crack on the ceiling really has to be watched. Last week it was only a foot past the molding, now it was more like two feet. Something up there must be settling.
"Ohhh..." Tami was going up again. "Oh - oh - ohhhh..."
The crack reminded him of the graph of a second degree differential, the one he was using to calculate the stresses on that dam project --
"OHHH!" Tami's eyes opened. "OHHH! Nnnnnn -- nnnn -- UHHH!" With a great heave she started bucking her hips in time with the spasms. Rod, looking at the crack, heaved along with her to the last, irregular jolt.
Tami caught her breath and stroked his face. "Your turn, Baby..."
A low, womanly giggle. "I said your turn Baby."
Rod looked up at her. Then at the ceiling. Then he looked down at Tami's breasts and was silent and motionless for a moment.
Tami's eyebrows furrowed. "What's wrong, Baby?"
He tapped her shoulders and said, "I... I just have to be alone a moment."
He got on his bathrobe and hunted for his slippers. Then he slid open the door in the living room and stepped out to the back yard and inhaled the windy cold air.
Five minutes went by before he returned. He found Tami standing in the middle of the living room, bolt upright in her usual posture. Breasts thrust out, hands at her sides, legs a little apart. She was covered with drying sweat, with her drying juices running down her thighs. There was a look of concern on her face.
Rod sat down on the couch. Tami sat down next to him, caressing his shoulder through his bathrobe. Her toes came up to caress his knee.
He exhaled. "Babe... I'm... jealous."
"Jealous of what?"
"Of your... capacity. I wish I could come over and over like you do... And I feel so... ROTTEN about it. I think of that DVD of you at Chalfont, being forced to..." He shook his head, then he made himself look Tami in the eye. "And then what happened at the restaurant. That must have been hell."
Tami looked down and nodded. "Yes it was." She held his hand. "But I had you there. That's why I didn't go out of my mind."
"Yes, yes, I know. But STILL I'm jealous. I'm always asking myself how it must feel, to come over and over." He blinked and his eyes became wet. "God, how crummy!"
They sat like that for a few moments. Then Tami said, "I had a feeling something was up."
Rod chuckled mordantly. "I won't be up for long, if this goes on. What's in my head, I mean." He chided himself for making such a juvenile joke.
Tami knelt between his legs and got out his limp dick.
"No Baby, don't."
She toyed with it. "You know Rod, I'm the one who should be jealous. I'm jealous of this. This magic wand. Sometimes I wish I had one."
Rod smiled weakly. "It's not what it's cracked up to be."
She picked it up with one hand and ran her tongue under it, the sensitive part. Perhaps reluctantly, it began to stiffen. Then she brought her limber foot up and around. "And these two... little items," she said, hefting his balls with her toes, one by one, with her big toe and second toe, grunting as if they weighed as much as cannon balls. "Mmmmhh! Wow that's almost beyond my strength!"
She took his dick into her mouth like it was a lollipop and looked up at him with a blank stare.
He chuckled. "You look really innocent."
She giggled, which with his dick in her mouth was quite a sensation. Then she gave his balls a closer look. "Think of all the billions of sperms in here. Billions!" She looked up at him. "What's female orgasm anyway? A way to feel good? But when a MAN comes, he's propagating the species. That's what life is about, what keeps life going. The male orgasm. When you come, it's like the whole surging wave of the universe goes through you, in that moment life goes forward into the future. No woman can possibly know what that feels like." She sucked on his dick loudly, then with a final slurp let it fall. It was mostly hard by now and stuck out at her. "That's why I'm jealous."
"Your Catholic upbringing is showing."
She smiled. "'Every sperm is sacred.' As they say, you can leave the Church, but it never leaves you."
Rod picked up his dick and waved it back and forth slowly, appraisingly, as they both looked at it. "Tell me, were you a good Catholic girl? Did you go to Catholic school?"
"No, but I went to Catechism class, every Monday. They'd let us Catholic kids out early for it. I was a pretty good girl. Well, except once, in third grade."
"Oh? What happened?"
"Well, we had gotten trained in First Communion, and you know how it goes? The priest says, 'Body of Christ', and you say, 'Amen', and he puts that wafer on your tongue. It's really dry and always sticks to the roof of your mouth, but you're not supposed to stick your finger in there to get it loose. It's like glue. Anyway, there's the priest, and the line of kids kneeling at the padella..."
"That low railing, it's called a padella. So it's, 'Body of Christ', 'Amen', 'Body of Christ', 'Amen', 'Body of Christ', 'Amen', When he got to me, he said, 'Body of Christ', and I said, 'I know.'"
Rod laughed. "Well DID you know?"
"Of course, I believed all that stuff, so I figured I wasn't being cheeky. I KNEW it was the Body of Christ and I figured I was just letting the priest know that I knew."
"I bet you got a talking to."
Tami's eyes rolled. "Oh Lord. The priest called my Mom, and then my Dad heard about it... I had to confess it and my pennance was to say 50 Hail Marys."
"Actually we kids could rattle them off pretty fast. It doesn't take much practice." Tami got up on her knees closed against each other, the rest of her upright as if at attention, breasts stuck out as if she wasn't aware of them. "Watch." She cleared her throat.
It seemed gibberish but eventually Rod slowed it down in his mind and understood what she was saying. By that time she had gone through about eight recitations. Stopping for a quick breath every minute or so, Tami got through all 50 of them before it got boring.
Rod clapped. "You are forgiven."
Tami lay down against his thigh and played with his dick again. "Do you feel better, Baby?"
Now Tami knelt in front of him, holding his erect dick in front of her face. She made a little bow with her head. "Body of Christ." Then she inhaled the first four inches of it so as to make him gasp.
He could feel the surging wave of the universe beginning within him. Between his gasps he said, "Oh Babe, you are bad. You'll burn in hell."
Tami giggled and between slurps said, "Jesus wouldn't mind. In fact he'd get a kick out of it. I'm sure of that now." And now she took him in even deeper.
The next afternoon, up in the woods miles away, in the little trailer overlooking the dam site, his subconscious mind was pondering what Tami had said, while his conscious mind was working on the plan for one of the dam buttresses, when his cell phone rang.
It was the polite, tense, Pakistani-inflected voice of Dr. Abu Jamal from Chalfont.
How odd. "Mr. Sykes, I hope you are well."
"Yes, I am. What's up? Is Tami all right?"
"She's not here. I called to speak to you, to discuss her case."
"It's best that we discuss it at our office here, you and I and Dr. Kantor, if you don't mind."
He put down his pen and switched the cell phone to his right hand. "What's up?"
"Can you be at my office at seven o'clock tonight?"
"Tami has a student government meeting then."
"She doesn't need to be there, just you. I am glad that she would be otherwise engaged. I ask that you not tell her where you will be."
"Um... OK I'll be there."
"Thank you. Until later."
After the call was over he began to work on the plans again, but then called right back at the number on his cell phone.
"Dr. Abu Jamal, Tami really should be there. I don't see why we should be keeping a secret from her."
"Mr. Sykes, when we began our course of treatment we elicited from Tami an agreement that her case could be discussed with you, outside of her presence, if necessary. It's BECOME necessary."
He found it hard to concentrate on the buttress after that. Some time later he called Tami to say he would be working late. He hated lying to her. Fortunately it was on the phone. One should never lie to Tami, after all the lies she had been told, and lying to her face would just be impossible.
At seven o'clock, with a feeling of foreboding that had become overwhelming, Rod stepped into the office that used to belong to that old dignified German guy, Dr. Schnitzler. His successor, Dr. Abu Jamal, of a different race and culture but equally diginifed, greeted him. The room was just like before, portraits of old guys with beards, red textured wallpaper, elegant upholstered furniture, a small bar with brandy snifters to the side. He sat on the plush cushion of the Louis XVI style armchair.
Seated next to Dr. Abu Jamal's desk was Dr. Kantor. It was he who spoke.
"Mr. Sykes. . . Tami's allergy is advancing. Significantly."