I finally wrote a sequel to
Wayward Ellen
and
Ellen and Doreen, Punished Together
which were published a while ago. In the first story, the narrator decides that his wife's cheating with two other guys has become extremely blatant. On advice from his uncle, he spanks her on her bare backside. However, she is surprised to find that she likes it and she seduces him right there in the living room. It seems that he inadvertently saved the marriage.
A week later he comes home and finds his wife Ellen in bed with her best friend Doreen. He decides that a harsher punishment is needed, and he whips Ellen across her ass with a belt. However, Doreen claims that she was partially responsible for the episode, and she volunteers to be belted too. Later she admits she did it to live out one of her BDSM fantasies.
Instead of saving the marriage, these actions cause Ellen to walk out on him. By the next day, she has left a note telling him that she wants a divorce and that she is moving her possessions out of the apartment.
When Ellen left on the first evening, Doreen hung around and chatted with him while they played records. He invited her out for drinks and she accepted.
The next day, after finding the good-bye note from Ellen, he calls Doreen to tell her about it. She invites him to her nearby apartment for dinner, which is where this story picks up.
This is happening in the Sunset Park and Bay Ridge sections of Brooklyn in October 1981.
The Salient
is the college newspaper they all used to be on.
*******
That evening I did go over to Doreen's apartment. She greeted me at the door, and I noted that she had dressed up -- obviously for me. Her skirt was loose-fitting and came down to her knees. However, her white blouse was short-sleeved and fairly tight. I noticed her breasts pushing against the front of it. For her footgear, she had a pair of chunky brown sandals but no stockings.
Her greeting at the door was platonic, which wasn't surprising I guess. We hadn't even had our first kiss yet. She offered me a glass of wine, and we sat down on her sofa.
Doreen was much more slender than Ellen, who was on the heavy side. I did like women of various body types, however. She was about five-foot-six, and she had reddish-brown hair, which was tied up in a sort of ponytail, and fair Irish skin. Both women were nearly twenty-four years old -- Ellen's birthday in fact was at the end of the month -- while I was twenty-seven.
After a bit of preliminary chat, I said, "Doreen, could we talk about some things? I mean, this has all been rather confusing for me, and probably for you too."
"Of course we can talk, that would be fine." I had known Doreen for over six years, but she had always been Ellen's friend. Now I had to bring up some sensitive issues with her, and I wasn't exactly sure how to proceed.
The first thing I asked was, "I'd like to know where you stand with Ellen if you feel you can handle the topic. I mean, it wasn't until yesterday that I found out -- well, you know."
"Let me get a cigarette, it will help me think." I had heard that from smokers before. They were usually addicted to the nicotine, of course.
"Sure, go ahead."
Despite my curiosity about the hows and whys of her lesbian relationship with Ellen, I decided on the spot to go in another direction. There would be other times when I could get into that topic. Instead, I said, "Now here's the thing; I haven't heard anything from her today. She didn't even leave a message on the answering machine."
"Well, why don't you call her? She's either at work or at her parent's house." She either didn't notice or didn't care that I had switched the direction of our conversation.
I replied, "I might, I guess; I'll give her a couple of days perhaps. I was kind of expecting her to get to me first. She did leave me that rather nasty note, which I've brought with me." I felt no guilt about showing it to Doreen.
After reading it, she said, "It seems from this that you probably will hear from her lawyer first when she gets one. Although I suppose she might want to arrange times to get more stuff out of the apartment."
Then Doreen surprised me with something. "Paul, I will admit this to you. I've noticed you since I first met you."
I felt a little thump or twitch inside myself, but I remained matter-of-fact about it. "I met you right after I had met Ellen. In fact, we both met you at the same time. The Women's Center, remember that?"
She said, "Yeah, we were all on the roof on some building on the South Campus -- Downer Hall maybe."
"I can't place which building either." I had the urge to confess to her. "Okay, Doreen, I'll admit this too. I've also noticed you since about the same time."
"You were quite a gentleman, however; you never made a play for me. A lot of guys would have done that." She laughed, "You're blushing, you know."
"That's me, a real poker face. But yeah, I can feel it -- I mean in my face."
"Would you like to share a doobie? I've got a couple of them here."
"I guess I would. But it's going to interfere with my ability to talk lucidly at some point."
"We'll go slow to start with -- just a few puffs." She grinned at me. "And, honestly, at some point we're going to be beyond merely talking."
I knew I heard that correctly, but I was having trouble believing it. Doreen got up and walked across the room to get her evil weed. Yesterday was the first day I had seen her pale bare backside. I wished I had gotten a better view of her bare pussy, but perhaps I would today. Suddenly I was aware of a tingling in my crotch; I was getting an erection.
I had a couple of puffs -- well, with pot you had to hold it in your lungs for a bit, so drags might be a better than word than puffs. Doreen did it four times. In a moment I felt the drug going through my system. It was strong stuff, but not like the mind-fucking I had gotten from some Thai sticks once. I suspect that those things actually continued at least some hashish.
Doreen asked me, "Would you mind telling me where you noticed me and what you saw in me?"
That usually was not a question I would directly answer, or I would deflect it with a joke perhaps. I was wary of giving a woman too much information about what I thought of her, especially at the beginning. Although, it wasn't really the beginning time-wise. She saw my hesitation and she probably guessed the reason. "Come on, don't overthink it. Just tell me."
I figured that I had known her for years and I knew she was a kind and thoughtful person. Besides, our connection to each other had changed drastically in the last couple of days..
I said, "I'm trying to remember some incident. One was during our days on
The Salient.
It was some kind of staff meeting I guess, but it was in this row house on the West Side somewhere. It was warm weather, and you were sitting near a window, smoking a cigarette. You had a short-sleeved blouse, and your midriff was bared."
"I haven't done that in a while. So that caught your attention."
"It also caught the attention of some other guy, I don't remember his name. He was on your other side, trying to chat you up, and you weren't buying it."
"Did you want to chat me up?"
"We didn't say that much. I would have liked to, but I was always loyal to Ellen."
"I know. Any other time you can think of?" I wondered why she wanted to know about these long-ago events. Maybe she was trying to assess my view of her.
"Yes, at some point in 1978 I guess, you were sitting on our floor in the Mosholu Parkway apartment we had. It was a warm day; I think you were barefoot, and your hair was really long at that time."
She looked away from me, and she said in a deadpan voice, "So, Paul, have you ever masturbated thinking of me?"
Baby, you can't ask a guy a question like that.