The Good Life (3 page)

“I'll tell you what,” she said, putting the key in the ignition. “Why don't you come home with me and let me give you a drink as a reward? I'll bring you back.”

“Well, I was just going home to clean up and change.”

“You look very clean and tidy to me. But if you want, you can take a shower at my home.”

“I might take you up on that if you mean it. Washing isn't very convenient where I'm staying.”

“Where's that?”

“A sort of student hotel near school,” he lied. He didn't want to tell her he was living in a trailer. She was a classy dame. The car was big and comfortable, a new Chrysler. He knew they cost at least a thousand bucks. She started it and pulled out into the traffic.

“Not with your family?” she asked.

“They've gone north for my father's work. I'm finishing high school.” Stretching the truth, he wondered why it shouldn't be true. If he found a good part-time job, he could get by on his own. His family didn't need him. They'd probably be glad to get rid of him.

“How old are you, Perry?” Mrs. Rosen asked.

“Eighteen.”
Close enough
, he thought.

“That's a wonderful age. Are you planning to go to college?”

“No. We don't have the money.”

“That's too bad. But I'm sure you'll succeed at whatever you do.” She paused. “You are a very handsome boy.”

“Well, thanks.”

She drove up into the hills behind Oakland, and they began to pass fancy houses in big gardens. It figured. She didn't look as if she lived in a dump.

After another few minutes she slowed and turned into a drive and came to a halt in front of a long, low house set in a big lot. The nearest neighbors were a couple of hundred feet away. He'd never known anybody who lived in a place like this. Rosen was rich.

“Is this yours?” he asked.

“Yes, much to my ex-husband's regret.”

“I wondered about your not having a wedding ring. Do you live here alone?”

“At the moment. My daughter's away at school. She's eight. Come along now.”

They let themselves out, and Perry pulled the groceries from the backseat while Mrs. Rosen unlocked the front door. They entered the foyer with a big living room beyond. Picture windows looked out over the bay, and the furniture was luxuriously modern. It looked like things he'd seen in the movies.

She put a hand on his arm. “Let's put that in here,” she said, indicating a door. She kept her hand on his arm as he carried the groceries into a big immaculate kitchen with fitted counters and cabinets. The whole place was like something in the movies. “There,” she said, indicating a counter. She removed her hand after giving his arm a little pat. “You're an angel. Let's have that drink. What do you want? Something alcoholic?”

“Whatever you're having.”

“Do your parents let you drink?”

“Sure.” His parents didn't have much to do with it. He didn't have any money for drinks. He sometimes had a beer. Only about four years ago there hadn't been any bars because of Prohibition.

“I guess you're old enough. It's no fun to drink alone.”

She was getting out ice trays when the telephone rang. She handed him a silver thermos shaped like a bucket. “Put some ice in there. I'll be right back.” She gave his arm a squeeze and hurried out as the phone continued to ring.

He filled the thermos, wondering if he could score with this stylish lady. She seemed to like to touch him. He couldn't imagine her naked, getting laid, but even the rich must do it. He sure as hell needed it. He was getting a hard-on just thinking about it. She looked as if she had a nice body, with good, firm breasts, even though she wasn't all that young.

She returned with a little frown between her brows. “What a nuisance. My maid is ill. Can't come this week.” She smiled and shook her head. “Come on, let's have our drink. You have the ice?” She glanced into the bucket and put the lid on it. “You're very useful, Perry. Bring it along.”

She tucked a hand under his arm, and they entered the living room. She led him to a table laden with bottles and glasses and then looked at him with a smile that was warmly intimate without being flirtatious.

“Why don't you take that windbreaker off? This room gets hot in the afternoon sun.”

He did so and draped it over a chair.

“Are you going to have a martini with me?”

“I guess so. What is it?”

“Gin mostly, with a drop of vermouth. I'll show you how to mix them. I hope we'll see each other often.”

“As often as you want.”

His mind was busy with a lot of wild ideas. A solitary woman, a big luxurious house — she even had a maid. His mother had worked as a maid in a private house in Phoenix on their way west only a couple of years ago. It was impossible not to wonder if there was anything he could do that would make her want him to stay. He thought of telling her that he was leaving, but he didn't think they'd known each other long enough for her to care. May be with a drink she would begin to get ideas too.

She finished stirring ice and liquid in a tall glass container and filled two cocktail glasses, holding the ice back with a gadget that looked made for the purpose. She handed him a glass and lifted hers to his.

“Be careful. It's strong,” she warned. She took a step closer and put a hand on his chest. “You have lovely broad shoulders. You're very fortunate. You have a wonderful build for such a young boy. You're very attractive, Perry. I probably shouldn't say things like that. I'm almost twice your age.” She looked him in the eye and took a sip of her drink.

His cock flexed and sprang to life again. He didn't know whether he should try to hide it or let her see it. He didn't want to shock her.

“Age doesn't matter,” he said. “Anyway, thirty-six is young.”

“Thirty-five,” she corrected him firmly.

“Amazing. I thought you were about thirty.” He took a swallow of the drink and almost choked. “My goodness. That sure is strong,” he exclaimed.

She laughed lightly. “I never have more than two. Sip it, don't gulp it.” She put a hand on his back as she moved in beside him and directed him toward a big sofa upholstered in pale rough material in front of the fireplace. “Do you have a regular girl?”

“No, not really.”

“Does that mean you might have some time to come see me again?”

“I'll say.”

Her hand was on his waist as they reached the sofa, and she gave him a little pat. They sat beside each other. There was a low table in front of them for their glasses.

He took another swallow of the drink and tried to think of something to say that would keep their conversation going in the direction she had chosen.

She looked at his handsome young face, coming to a decision. She was playing with fire, but she couldn't stop. She found him devastating and had been alone so long that she was ready to take a risk. He had very good manners, and she trusted his candid brownish green eyes.

Everybody would tell her she was mad to bring him here since he was a boy she knew nothing about. He could have robbed her or raped her, not that she was sure she could put up enough resistance to make it rape. He was handsome but not in a commonplace way: His well-modeled features had distinction, and his mouth challenged her to possess him: strong, with a hint of cruelty but capable of sweetness too.

He had a watchful quality suggesting a reserve of power that was striking in one so young and was also a challenge. He was a beautiful young animal. She had noticed his crotch when he was helping with the groceries, and she had been gripped immediately by a shameful longing to get her hands on it. It was a handsome display of masculinity and had become more so in the last fifteen minutes.

He was still a bit of a stripling, but she could see that when his body filled out a little more, it was going to be overwhelmingly desirable. She could always send him away if he didn't please her.

She took another sip of her drink and put the glass down and turned to him. “I was thinking on the way up,” she said casually. “Are you really quite alone?”

“Well, only until I finish school. I'll join my family then.”

“Of course, but until then, if you're not comfortable at the hostel place, why don't you move up here?”

He couldn't believe his ears. He didn't have to go on wondering if there was any chance of seducing her. She'd offered him all that he could have possibly hoped for.

“You mean here? In this house with you?” he asked, scarcely able to contain a whoop of joy.

“I don't see why not. There's plenty of room. I feel that we're friends already. You'd save on your rent.”

His mind raced, trying to think of objections his parents might make. “But how would I get to school?”

“There's a bus about a block away that goes downtown, but I could usually take you. It's not a problem.”

As it turned out, there was no problem about anything. Particularly, getting him out of his clothes. Another martini, and he was in the mirror-lined bathroom. Naked, he thought of undressing Mrs. Rosen and had a determined erection. He caught sight of himself in the mirror. He couldn't remember ever having seen himself full-length before with nothing on. Not bad. His cock looked far from puny.

The soap was perfumed and a curious shape, not a block with a medicinal smell he was used to.

“I've brought you a towel.”

He jumped at the sound of her voice. “Thanks. If you leave it there, I'm about finished.” He was standing stark naked having a conversation with an attractive woman only a few feet away from him. His cock expanded until it stood.

“Come out and talk to me,” Mrs. Rosen said. “You don't have to hide in there.”

He never dreamed a woman could ask for it. He must be mistaken. He didn't want any trouble. “I'm naked, and, well…”

“I didn't expect you to shower with your clothes on,” she laughed. “I have a towel for you. You don't have to be modest.”

“If you're sure you mean it. Don't blame me if you're shocked.” He opened the door and took a step forward, his hands hovering near his cock for concealment in case she was outraged.

She wasn't. She was wearing a sheer red negligee with nothing underneath. “I'm shocked but in a very pleasant way. What a stunning boy.” She moved toward him. “Absolutely stunning.”

That was the last coherent thing he remembered her saying. She dropped down on her knees and ran her lips and tongue along his proud virility and then turned down to his balls.

He was struck dumb with amazement. He didn't know girls did such things. For that matter, he didn't know anybody did such things. She did things that sent thrills racing through him. She wanted his cock. He felt an exultant new power in him. He could do anything he liked with her. She had surrendered herself to him.

He dropped over her and pulled flimsy material away. She fell back onto the floor in a tangle of red cloth. She somehow freed her legs and lifted them around his hips and gripped him. She was seized by a frenzy of passion, her hands reaching for him, her body writhing.

Perry surprised himself. He knew how to fuck. He apparently knew how to fuck very well. He had never felt so confident of himself. He drew his hips back until his cock almost disengaged and drove hard into her. He drew back again and entered her slowly, letting her feel him moving into her inch by inch while her body pitched about under him and she shouted and begged for it. He was finally fucking a woman the way he'd always imagined it, body to body, stark naked and not keeping anything back from each other.

When he could contain himself no longer, he came in her tumultuously. It was the orgasm of his life.

He listened to Mrs. Rosen's cries of rapture, the quick little succession of grunts that accompanied the tremors that he felt sweeping through her body, saw her face transfigured by what he supposed was called ecstasy and wondered if it made her fall hard enough for him to allow him to quit his stupid job and devote himself to fucking her. If she liked it as much as she seemed to, she might figure out a way to send him to college so that she could keep him with her.

She liked it well enough to get him established in her house. He had a little trouble convincing his mother of the practicality of the arrangement. He worked for his keep in the garden on weekends. He had a room attached to the garage. It was only until June when he graduated. Then he'd come to Seattle.

“Mr. Kashman at the store knows the whole family. It's all arranged. I met the lady this afternoon, Mom,” he said with a flutter of trepidation around his heart.

Fresh from Mrs. Rosen, he was shocked to see that his mother was looking old. She was only thirty-eight, just a few years older than the woman he'd rolled around with on the bathroom floor, but his mother looked almost like a different generation. He remembered how pretty she had been when they were still on the farm and hated the years on the road that had worn away her youth. It was unfair. Was his youth going to be worn away too?

“You mean you don't want to go with us?”

“No. It's not that. You know that. It's a chance to get school out of the way once and for all. You understand how much I want to graduate here. Then I can get a proper job and help out. Think what a lucky break it is for all of us, Mom.” There was a desperate pleading in his voice.

“We've been through some pretty hard times together, but we've always stayed together. Your father prides himself on being able to take care of his family. We've got our pride. Never been on welfare.” She lifted her head proudly for a moment, then looked down at her roughened hands. Having never been on welfare was something they clung to as evidence of their integrity.

She lifted her eyes and smiled at him with something like mischief. “But your father's a reasonable man. I think I can work it.” She patted his hand. “I want the best for you, Perry.”