Summer Rules

"What is his problem?" she fretted. "They never bothered us last year. Don't they know people come here to make out?"

"We're doing a little more than make out. It's too early. It's still family hour. It's too early to fuck," he added, hoping to shock her.

"To fuck. That's what we're doing. I'm doing it! I'm doing it! Look at me everybody, I'm fucking at the drive-in!" She was yelling at the top of her lungs. Fortunately, the windows were closed and on screen a helicopter was exploding.

She started to rock back and forth a little.

"Stop that."

"You don't like that? It feels like you like it."

"You're going to get us arrested."

"You keep saying that. What do you want me to do? This is what the book said you were supposed to do next."

"Not if you have three little kids staring at you. Just sit still and watch the movie." He reached down beneath her skirt. "No gasping, no twitching. Poker face." He'd learned to do this, sitting in Jan's bedroom, in her apartment, with her parents talking in the room next door, the bedroom dark except for the TV, but the door part way open. He found her clit, buried in soft curls, right next to his balls. Actually, he was bringing them both off. She'd been close before. It didn't take much, no more than a minute. He barely had time to keep up with her.

"Oh my God! Oh my God!" She was scrambling off his lap.

"What's the matter? Did I hurt you?"

"Got to pee!"

* * * *

The next morning he got a phone call from his beloved. Actually he awoke to his mother pounding on the bedroom door. "Hey, sleeping beauty! Get up! Your girl friend is on the phone!"

"Maggie?" He was surprised she was awake. They had lasted at the drive-in through three features, and equal number of buckets of beer, half a dozen cheeseburgers, two root beer floats, four orgasms for him, at least twice that many for her. He wasn't sure how he had managed to get the car back in the garage, both of them to their respective beds, but here he was, bloated, hung over, drained, and utterly content.

"Not Maggie. The other one." The whore, she added, not quite under her breath. Tom had made the mistake of introducing Jan to his parents, and the contempt had been mutual. Ozzie and Harriet, she called them, and they did look like movie stars, they did live in perfect suburban respectability, and hadn't they produced him? Of course, Jan's parents hated Tom just as much. Her father had tattoos from Auschwitz. Tom was an Aryan devil. "Maggie is such a nice girl," she added, "a girl who is worthy of you. Did you have a nice time last night?"

"Yes mother."

"You were drinking."

"I'm allowed to drink. It's legal."

"Tom, you know I'm worried about you drinking and driving."

"The car is in the garage."

"Just because you got away with it this time, don't think -- oh, you think you're invincible. And those trips you take up to see that little whore." She said it right out loud that time. "Don't think I don't know what's going on."

"Mom, I'm up there all year." He paused, then went for the kill. "Why do you think that's any different?"

"It's not in my face. Tom, you are so, so ... look, do you think you've reinvented human nature, you and all these other hippies? Well you haven't. You're playing with fire. You're going to get burned some day."

'Don't play with me 'cause I'll cream in your face'. That's the way his roommate had sung those lyrics. But his mother was right. He had lit the match, he had lit the fuse, he had set off the bomb, first with Jan, and now with Maggie. What if had been the other way around? Maggie was prettier. Maggie's parents didn't hate him, at least not yet. His parents didn't hate Maggie. But it didn't matter. He was in love with Jan, now and forever. Maggie was nothing more than a summer diversion. Wasn't she?

And why the fuck was Jan calling him at this ungodly hour of the morning? Ten o'clock? Not even. How did women know? How did she know that he'd been unfaithful to her? Even though that's what he was supposed to be doing, seeing other people? Well, maybe not seeing quite so much of them, maybe not fucking them for five hours straight, broken only by dashes to the refreshment stand to pee and get more food and beer.

"Finally." Those were the first words that came out of the earpiece. "Do you know how many quarters I've been feeding into this fucking phone?"

"You're at a pay phone?"

"Yes dear heart, I'm at a pay phone. I'm at the deli, I'm buying bagels, my number is coming up next. Look, I need you to come up this evening."

"To see you?"

"Of course to see me."

"I thought we were on for next week."

"We are on for next week. I need you tonight."

What was he supposed to say? Gee, Jan, I'm totally fucked out? "I'm a little short of cash." That much was true.

"Do you have enough to get on the train?"

"I think so."

"I'll handle it from there. My treat."

"Your treat?" Jan had never paid for anything.

"My treat. Please, Tom, this is really important to me."

"Okay."

"I'll meet you at Penn Station. Usual time?"

"Okay."

"Wear something nice." The phone clicked dead.

"What was that all about?" His mother was all over him.

"I have to go to New York this afternoon." He gave her a look of mixed hope and desperation. "You can take me to the station?"

"I could, possibly, take you to the station." His mother glared at him. "What is so important that you need to go on such short notice?"

I don't know, he started to say, but he knew that wasn't going to cut it. Think, Tom, think. That's what you're supposed to be good at. But his felt like it was filled with cotton balls, no, little balls of steel wool. "She got tickets, at the last minute, to a musical." God, if she'd been listening in on the other line he was dead meat. He held his breath.

"A musical? What musical?"

What musicals were there? Hair. No, Mom wouldn't go got that. "Hello Dolly," he blurted.

"Hello Dolly?" His mother gave a gasp. "She got tickets to it? Oh, I would give anything to see that."

"You did see it. Here."

"The traveling cast. Oh, Tom, Carol Channing -- you have to bring back the program. Promise?"

"Promise. Got to go."

"Go where?"

"Swimming."

"You don't have time to swim."

He did not answer. He just pulled on his swim trunks and running shoes and headed for the pool. It was about a mile, maybe a little more. He went fast, and by the time he got there his guts were ready to purge themselves of the excesses from the night before. A quick rinse, forty laps in water that still had a morning chill, and he almost felt human again.

He napped on the train. By the time he got to New York he was feeling a lot better. Well, worried. His mother was bubbling with enthusiasm. His father had even pressed a wad of bills, almost fifty dollars, into his hand as they left, and told him to be a gentleman. A gentleman, a gentleman. He had always laughed at the way his mother would entangle herself in a web of deceit, one little white lie after another. Now he had done the same thing to himself. Well, he would work his way out of it one way or another. Somehow, he always did. The dread, the danger, the adrenaline rush was better than sex, well, not better really, last night, fucking right in front of those little kids, that had been a double rush, a triple rush.

Jan was waiting for him. Actually, he almost missed her. She wasn't wearing one of her little hippie cotton sun dresses. She was wearing something sheer and slinky, something you would wear to a trendy club or a fancy restaurant. Her hair was different, her face was glowing, all of her was glowing. She looked fantastic. And, she wasn't alone. She was with an older couple, well, not really old, late twenties, but old enough that they definitely were not teenagers. They were dressed even more elegantly. They were the most beautiful people he had ever seen, people that you saw in the fashion ads in the Sunday paper, but never in real life. There was a little space around them, in the crowded station. No one dared to come too close, but everyone was pretending not to stare at them.

"Tom!" She rushed up to kiss him. "'C'est lui,'" she said, in French. "'Mon amant'." My lover. She would never put it that way in English. My boyfriend, maybe. But somehow it was okay in French, like 'merde' or 'cont'.

"I am Claude," the man proffered a hand. "'C'est ma femme, Ivette.'"

"Your wife?" Tom repeated in English, just to make sure he had understood correctly. "You're married."

"Yes, married. I understand that you and Jan have, in your relationship, summer rules?" Jan gave a little smirk of confirmation. "For us, it is always summer."

They were walking past a bar in the station concourse. "Come," Claude said, "let us sit down and talk. You would like a beer?"

Tom was still trying to recover from several gallons of cheap beer the night before. But he needed a drink. He really, really needed a drink. "Gin and tonic."

"Ah, excellent choice. Really, you look like a young Mark Twain." That was true. Tom was wearing his seersucker suit, his favorite summer suit. He felt dowdy, compared to these elegant strangers. "You will need a tie," Claude frowned, "for dinner."

"I have one. It was too hot on the train."

"Very well."

"Look at me," Jan said. "Aren't you surprised?"

"I'm flabbergasted. You look like a fashion model."

"Our treat," Claude said. "Our little surprise for you."

"Your treat? You bought her the dress?"

"The dress, the perm, the shoes." He hadn't looked at her feet, but she was wearing beautiful sandals, the kind that cost hundreds of dollars, and her toes were perfectly manicured. "Makeup, manicure ..." Tom's head was spinning. He was trying to estimate how much money Claude had just spent on his girlfriend, his 'amante'. As much as Tom was going to make all summer, at least. "They are going to get me into the business," she added. "I'll be making serious money."

"You're a pimp?" Tom blurted it out.

"A pimp? No, not precisely." Claude gave a little chuckle.

"He's a designer," Jan said. "Ivette is a model."

"Is there a difference," it was the first time Ivette had spoken, "between a model and a whore?"

"A model must be willing to do what is necessary," Claude said.

"Why am I here?" Tom was looking at Jan. He didn't know this girl, this woman. This wasn't the girl he had thought he was in love with.

"Tom, this is all happening so quickly, and it's wonderful, but I want to make it work. I want to make it work, for us. Really, I do. I love you." She leaned over and gave him a little kiss, and the top of her dress fell away.

"I love you too," he muttered without too much conviction. "I guess you ran out of money for lingerie?"

That was enough to make his beloved blush. She squirmed a little, crossing her legs even more tightly. She hadn't looked that squirmy since that lunch in Monticello.

"There is a special way a woman moves, if she is naked underneath her clothes," Claude said.

"I never wear anything under my dresses," Ivette added, "unless, of course, it is the wrong time of the month."

"That's not a problem for me." Jan relaxed. She even opened her legs up enough to let Tom know for sure she was bare assed. "Wrong time of the year is more like it."

That wasn't quite true, but her periods were very irregular, frighteningly so until she had finally gotten an IUD. No pills for her, she had no interest in bleeding that often. No periods, no boobs, it was as if she had never really reached puberty. Maybe that was what made her sexuality so unsettling. Maybe that was what had attracted Claude to her, what had made him dress her up like a little girl gone bad. Pervert. Of course, what did that make Tom? He had never realized how exotic she was. He wanted her, desperately, more than ever.

"Jan thinks you have potential as a model. You know, underwear, blue jeans, that sort of thing."

"He's got a beautiful body," Jan said. Brilliant, and with a beautiful body. She'd said that once, in the middle of a bitter fight, then added "and that's all." Well, what more was there?

"We must see," Claude mused, "if the camera is his friend. When we return to our apartment, we will take some pictures of you. If they are worthy, we will contact some of our friends."

"The question is," Ivette broke in. "Is he willing to do what it takes to succeed?"

"Is that why I'm here?" Tom got up. He was ready to catch the next train home. "This is some sort of evaluation? Not just to see how pretty I am?"

"Tom, please." Jan caught his arm. "It was supposed to be a wonderful surprise. We're going to a really nice restaurant, and then to a club where the beautiful people go. And then ..."

"And then?"

"We will have a night of adventure," Claude drawled.

"Think of it, Tom." Jan had leaned in to whisper in his ear. He didn't know who this person was. She wasn't even wearing Jean Nate. "Think of what we can do, with four instead of two. Two girls and one guy, two guys and one girl. Double penetration. I really want to do that. Girl on girl. Don't you want to see that?"

"Guy on guy?" Tom pushed away and waited for an answer. The ladies were poker faced, trying not to giggle. Claude just gave a little shrug. It was time for Tom to leave. Instead, he ordered another gin and tonic. "There is one thing."

"What?" Claude asked.

"We have to see Hello Dolly."

"What?" Jan was looking at Tom in utter disbelief. "We need to do what?"

"I told my mother I was coming up to see Hello Dolly. That you had last minute tickets. What? I had to tell her something. It was the first thing that came into my mind. I suppose," he was looking at the other three, "we can't get tickets?"

"It is not the expense, or even the difficulty." Claude was visibly irritated. "It is the ennui. Surely you could have come up with a more entertaining alibi."

"You don't know his mother," Jan grumbled.

"I would like to see it," Ivette offered, so timidly they almost could not hear her.

"You what?" Claude was giving her the same look Jan had bestowed on her lover.

"I would like to see it. I have wanted to see it for some time now."

"Well why didn't you tell me so?"

"You would regard me with the same contempt that you are showing now. Nevertheless, I am willing to procure the tickets."

Her choice of words gave some hint of just what she might be doing to obtain them. She started to head to the pay phone on the back wall of the bar, but Claude held her back. "Wait. Tom, you understand, that you are asking considerable sacrifice of us. It is only reasonable that you pledge your full participation in our ... adventures."

Tom flushed. "Which means?"

"Ah, 'mon ami', it is like buying a yacht. If you have to ask ..."

"Anything you can imagine," Jan said. "Maybe some things you can't."

"Nothing that will harm you," Claude assured him.

"Nothing painful?"

Tom did not like the way Ivette choked on her drink. There was a pause, too long perhaps.

"That we will not promise," Claude said. "Since when is adventure without pain? Surely you and Jan have caused each other some discomfort, perhaps you have even found that you relish that sensation."

"He likes his balls squeezed," Jan said. "He tells me to dig in my nails and rip them off. Some day I may really do it."

"I'll do it," Tom sighed. "I guess I really don't have much choice."

"Excellent." Claude and Ivette both went back to the phone. There were a couple of calls, a whispered consultation. Jan and Tom did not say a thing to each other in the meantime. They wouldn't even look at each other.

After a few minutes, Claude returned to the table. "Ivette will join us at the restaurant. She is fairly certain that she can obtain the tickets. We will dine somewhat earlier than planned. I hope that you are already hungry?"

"I'm starving," Tom answered. The wad of cheeseburgers from the night before had worked their way through him, thankfully, while he was still on the train, leaving an aching void. No breakfast, almost no lunch, but he was ready now, more that ready, to eat something. The prospect that both ends of his digestive system might be violated later in the evening did nothing to spoil his appetite.

"Excellent." They left the bar and walked uptown a few blocks. It was late afternoon, but still oppressively hot. Tom was wearing the tie now, and it only made things worse. He could feel sweat trickling down his back. Claude was in a suit also, with the jacket buttoned. Somehow he was not sweating openly, but his face was turning red, betraying him. Only Jan was dressed for the climate, almost naked. Her dress barely covered her thighs, and on the top it consisted of two thick shoulder straps, arranged to hide her nipples, most of the time. Short as it was, the skirt was slit, slit to the clit, his roommate used to say, but this was even higher, almost to her waist. Any hint of breeze was pushing the wispy fabric away, revealing the smooth globes of her cheeks.

"You're going to get us arrested," Tom muttered. Just at the moment, two cops on foot patrol came around the corner. They gave her a first glance, then a second. Tom blushed. Jan looked defiant. Claude gave them a little nod, and they moved on.

The restaurant was on the next corner. Tom recognized it. They had walked past it, many times, on their dinner and movie dates. Once, they had stopped to look at the menu, and given a little laugh of disbelief. The least expensive appetizer cost more than they were used to spending for an entire evening. Now they were going inside.

It was cool inside, almost too cold. Tom was comfortable. Jan was starting to shiver. They were ushered to a table near the window, a table covered with heavy white linen, adorned with flowers. People walking by on the street were giving them glances of envy.

"What would you prefer for an appetizer, Tom?" Claude asked. The menu was entirely in French, with no translation. "'Les escargots'?"

"Too slow." Jan could not resist. "Tom only likes fast food."

"I'll have the truffle bisque."

"Ah, an excellent choice. The season is so short. And you, my dear? You seem very pensive. Perhaps you are looking forward to the rest of the evening? You must learn to enjoy the pleasures of the moment."

"I'm thinking about the double penetration." She dabbed at her thighs with the heavy white napkin. It was not sweat that had moistened them. She leaned forward to whisper. "I want Tom behind me, Claude in front. I want my tongue up Evie's butt."

"Not this butt." Ivette had joined them. She winced as she sat down. "This butt is out of action for the rest of the night."

"I gather," Claude looked at her with a mixture of amusement and concern, "that a simple blow job did not suffice?"

"Or a simple fuck. Ooh," she winced again as she shifted.

"Evie, dear, you are not encouraging our friend."

"Oh don't worry," she gave a little wave of unconcern. "Claude is very gentle. His prick is not too big." That was enough to provoke an angry flush from her husband. Tom had a sudden suspicion that it was part of the reason they operated under summer rules.

"Don't worry," Tom said, "I made a promise. I'm not going to back out now."

"Well," Claude said, "of course we can bind you to do as we wish." Tom wondered if that was a legal or a physical binding. "But your enthusiastic participation would be so much more gratifying." The appetizers had arrived, along with an aperitif "Have you ever participated in," he paused, "sodomy?"

Tom nibbled on a piece of bread. They even charged for the bread here. Each roll cost more than a Big Mac. "Of course. Many times. With Jan." he added, and she gave a gratifying little flush of embarrassment.

"Ah yes, Jan does have a delightful predilection. It will make her life as a model so much easier. For my poor wife it is always a pain in the ass, so to speak?" Now it was Ivette's turn to blush. Tom could not believe that they were in an elegant restaurant having this conversation. It was not as if they were tucked away in a corner. They were at one of the most prominent tables, four beautiful people who had stopped conversation as the entered the room. Everyone was sneaking glances at them. Eavesdropping, too, most likely.