Chapter 13 of Campus Nymph by Greg Caldwell

1962 GENRE: Vintage Sleaze | Promiscuous Wife

... PROMISCUOUS WIFE

Boiling passions and naked carnal desire on a college campus ... Night after night, beautiful, passionate Gay tossed sleeplessly on her lonely bed, wondering what had gone wrong with her marriage. Where was the ardent lover who just couldn't keep his hands and lips from her voluptuous body less than a year before, when they were first married? Why was Roger always "too busy"—or "too tired"? When she learned that Roger was involved in a torrid romance with one of his students, Gay decided that what was sauce for the gander was gravy for the goose ...

With provocative abandon she turned to Karl, the virile young college athlete who was never too busy or too tired.

... And Martin York, an accomplished connoisseur of the techniques of love ... Until one day she found herself caught up in a web of seething sin from which there was no escape, and learned what it really meant to be a …

… CHEATING HUSBAND ...

Read the entire book as an EPUB eBook that can be downloaded from the Fox Library.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Doris Hammond phoned that evening.

Gay answered the phone and did not recognize the voice. It said timidly, "Is Professor Whitmer there?"

"Yes, just a minute, please. Roger? It's for you."

For some reason Gay hesitated in the hallway before she went back to the kitchen and her dishes. She listened as Roger answered.

"Prof. Whitmer here," he said briskly. Then his voice changed abruptly. "I told you not to call me!"

Gay stiffened.

"No," said Roger angrily. "No, I told you—Doris, it's through!"

The girl talked, pleaded. Roger turned her off, but he sounded rather pleased at all her fussing; they talked quite a while before he hung up.

Gay went on to the kitchen. So Doris was still trying.

She must really be convinced that she could break up their marriage.

Doris called again on Tuesday evening. Gay said to Roger with pretended carelessness, not covering the phone with her hand, "It's Doris Hammond again.

Shall I tell her you're not here?"

Roger gave her a shocked, startled look. "No, I'll answer." He took the phone and waited until she had gone back to the kitchen before he spoke. After the call was over, he came back to the kitchen and stood uneasily in the doorway.

"It's hard for her, you know," he offered tentatively, watching her.

"Harder than it was for me all winter? Wondering where you were—then being informed by another faculty wife all about your affair?" She thumped a wet pan down on the table. The strange part was that she was not more angry. She understood how Doris felt—as though security had been ripped away from her, leaving her naked to the world.

"It's over between us. I told her that. But she finds it hard to accept. She loves me," he said proudly.

"She must be quite a sex-pot," said Gay crudely, deliberately, watching his face out of the corner of her eye.

He reddened angrily. "She is not! She's no such thing. She is very gentle and I had to—That is, she is a lady in everything she does."

Gay thought of the naked blond body lying next to her husband's, the way she had seen her that morning in her bed. Not a very ladylike pose, but then she didn't know many ladies.

"Is she going to be on the faculty next winter?" she asked.

Roger shuffled his feet. "No. They told her they could not accept her now. That has upset her very much, of course. I told her I would help her find another suitable position."

"It should not be hard to find a suitable position for her."

"What do you mean by that crack?" he demanded.

Gay smiled down at the pan she was washing. "Oh, just that there's a shortage of good teachers," she said innocently.

"Oh, I thought you meant—the affair—oh, never mind!" He turned and went back to the living room.

Gay heard the phone ring again later, but Roger jumped up and answered it. He murmured into the phone for a long time.

She folded sheets and towels thoughtfully. So the flame was not dead. Roger still loved Doris, or liked her a terrific amount. And Doris was chasing, chasing, chasing. There should be something Gay could do about that.

Of course, Doris would be leaving in June, but there were two more weeks left. A lot could happen in two weeks. She could lure Roger back, let them be seen—Gay frowned. Was this Doris' method, to provoke a scandal, to allow herself to be seen in places with Roger? Had she done this deliberately? The word had certainly spread fast around the campus. Maybe Doris herself had spread it, hoping to provoke a scandal, to make Gay furiously angry at Roger, to make Roger feel protectively toward Doris. Maybe that was her method.

She was a clever little thing. But Gay knew a trick or two herself.

She was scheduled to go to a faculty wives' doings on Wednesday evening. She had planned to drive. She knew Doris was seeing Roger after class each day. He told her that.

Then on Wednesday evening at seven, Gay pretended a headache. "I don't believe I feel up to it, Roger." She sighed, convincingly. "With this headache, I won't be able to act civil to anybody."

"Oh, you'd better not go then," said Roger, alarmed.

"But I promised to take a pie. I really ought to go, I have the pie all ready."

He offered to take the pie.

"Oh, would you, darling? That would be marvelous. Just give it to Mrs. Sweetman, or any of the ladies, and make my apologies."

He agreed to take the pie. She lay down on the couch, put a wet cloth on her head, and sighed every few minutes. He got more uneasy every time she sighed. He feared sickness, was unable to bear other people's pains and aches.

"Darling," said Gay, when her sighs seemed to have done their job of making him fidget and unable to work, "I wonder if you'll be going to Shelby one of these days?"

"What for, Gay? Do you want something?" He looked up from bis papers.

"Well." She smiled coyly. "I just thought—you haven't brought me any lovely little things lately. You know."

"Oh." He brightened by degrees as he though about that. "You know, I haven't. I really ought to find something—You know, Gay. The stores are open tonight!"

"They are" she said, seemingly surprised.

"Yes. The Shelby stores are open every Wednesday evening starting in April. Well, well, I could go tonight.

Might find something special!"

So within half an hour he was on his way to deliver the pie, and to go look for "something special" in the way of exotic lingerie. As soon as the car had driven away, Gay got up and prepared herself for an expected visitor. She stripped completely, put on a full-length green robe and slippers. She checked the lock on the bedroom door and smirked. Doris was in for a charming little surprise.

Gay turned down all the lights in the house, leaving a dim glow to show that someone was home. Then she sat down and waited.

The trouble with Doris Hammond was that she was still in the agonies of her first affair. She needed to be cured of her infatuation with Roger. She had to be shown that there was more love in the world than could be found with another woman's husband. And she needed to know that some women had weapons to fight back with—weapons little Doris had never dreamed existed. It was dangerous to mess with the husbands of some women, thought Gay, smiling.

At about quarter to eight, Doris came. She was quite prompt, a virtue Gay approved of. They could do a lot in the couple of hours before Roger, returned from Shelby.

Gay opened the door. "Come in," she said, catching the girl's arm and whisking her into the house before she could gasp out her surprise.

She brought her in, slammed and locked the door.

"Oh—Mrs. Whitmer," the girl gasped, and turned to flee. "I didn't—didn't—know—I came to—! mean, I must have the wrong house."

"Not at all, Doris. This is the right house. You've been here before, haven't you?"

The girl took alarm. She seized the door handle, tried to unlock the door. Gay grabbed and pulled her away. The two girls fought across the living room floor.

Gay found the younger girl less agile and much weaker than herself. It wasn't too hard to get her on the floor and straddle her. She brushed back her red hair and laughed. Doris stared up at her fearfully, her blue eyes stunned and scared.

Gay said, "Don't be frightened, Doris. I won't hurt you—if you do exactly what I want!"

"Wha—what do you want?" quavered the pretty blond, shaking like jelly under Gay's legs.

Gay stroked the soft mounds of the girl's breasts.

Doris caught her breath, her face mirroring surprise and shock. "I want you to come in the bedroom with me, honey," said Gay mockingly. "And show me what you have been doing with my husband. Show me what attracts him so much."

"Oh—no, no—I couldn't—"

"I could beat you up, beat you so Roger wouldn't ever like your little face any more," Gay threatened coolly. The girl flinched as Gay's hand wandered lightly over her face.

"Oh—but I—oh, please, don't make me—"

"Come on. It won't be hard. You may even like it a lot. I'll bet you will like it," Gay whispered coaxingly.

She bent down, kissed the soft cheek down to the neck. The girl shivered.

Gay slowly unfastened the dress at the collar, opened the blouse to the waist. She put her hand inside the dress, stroked along the breasts just over the slip and brassiere. Doris was weakening.

"I—I might stay—just a little while—" Doris finally said.

Gay got up at once. "Come on, then."

Doris got up, brushed off her dress automatically.

Her pocketbook was on the floor in one corner, her gloves in another. She looked at Gay with timid questioning.

Gay realized how her husband had felt when he first "seduced" Doris. The girl had probably led him on and on, then timidly looked at him with wide blue eyes as he led her to bed. He had probably felt like a monster, seducing this innocent child. Yet this child was a quivering sex-pot, just as Gay had guessed. She had felt the responsive movement when she touched Doris' breasts. The girl was hot for it.

She took Doris by the hand and led her back to the bedroom. She closed and locked the door behind them. She leaned against the door and said, "Now strip for me, Doris. Just the way you did for Roger."

The girl could blush charmingly. Gay watched as she slowly took off her dress, laid it aside on a chair. Then she took off her slip, revealing a lovely figure with soft breasts, a narrow waist, wide hips, the flesh white and soft and quivering.

She paused.

"Go on," said Gay ruthlessly, her eyes never wavering from the figure before her. "All off, honey. All of it."

Doris took off her shoes and stockings, paused. She looked entrancing in a pink brassiere and pink panties.

Roger liked black on his wife. Maybe that was why he thought Doris was more of a lady. She wore pink panties.

"Strip," said Gay, as Doris hesitated too long.

"Mrs. Whitmer—please—"

Gay came over to her, pushed her backward down on her bed. She lay down beside her and unfastened the pink brassiere. The soft mounds fell from their tight covering. Gay flung the brassiere away, and caught a breast in her skillful artist's hands.

"Oh please—don't—" said Doris' pretty pink mouth, but her lithe body was swaying under Gay's skillful touch. Gay squeezed the breast, then bent her head to the nipple.

She had done this a couple times before, but never had she felt so inspired. Usually she much preferred to have a man make love to her. But on this occasion she was willing and eager to make love to Doris. She would cure this girl of her mad infatuation for Roger.

She would make Joke to her as she had never been made love to before in her whole life.

Gay drove her hard. She kissed the soft breasts until Doris' body squirmed under hers. She pulled off the pink panties, stroked along the thighs and legs until Doris squealed and giggled. Then she kissed her hips hips and body, kissed the thighs and legs.

Doris was moaning. Her blond head was back, digging into the pillow, her back arched convulsively.

Her arms came up, clasped around Gay. The two women rolled on the bed. Then Gay pushed her back again, made her lie still for the final climactic moments.

She worked at her—kissed her body ...

Doris screamed, arching high up in the air. Her body quivered and shook. Gay lay back, panting and watching in satisfaction. She bet Doris had never felt like this before. A woman knew the vulnerable places of another woman's body. She knew how to touch and caress, then pause and caress again, and pause—until madness set in, convulsions wracked with ecstasy every muscle of the other woman's body.

She let Doris recover, holding her tight in her arms.

The blond head lay on her shoulder. She had stripped off her own robe long ago. When Doris lay more quietly, Gay whispered to her, coaxingly.

"Now—honey—do it to me. Do it, honey. Turnabout is fair play. Come on, sweet. Do it."

Doris was reluctant, but Gay coaxed, and threatened, and coaxed again. Finally the girl got up on her knees.

Gay lay back and let her begin, watching her with narrowed green eyes. The blond head bent over Gay's breasts, the soft mouth moved timidly at first, then more passionately.

Yes, this girl could be won.

Doris went on and on, with some instruction, caressing Gay's warm vital body. She was fascinated by her red hair, and kissed that. Gay enjoyed these kisses from her rival. But she lingered too long, Gay was warm and impatient with desire. "Do what I did ... "

The girl did not protest now. Her hands slid under Gay's thighs. It felt good, this woman's touch on her body, after the strenuous time Karl Lucas had given her.

Gay felt fever heat rising in her, boiling up through her ...

She cried out, doubled up. Wave after wave of passion burned through her. The two girls writhed, their bodies breast to breast now, their thighs touching.

Gay held her tight so she could not escape. But Doris did not try to get away. She fondled Gay with her clever eager hands. She begged Gay to "do it again." And they had a wild time that evening. They rolled across the bed over and over, their soft breasts pushing at each other's, their legs were tangled close ...

She's a cute sex-pot, thought Gay. No wonder she had chased after Roger, her desires were plenty avid.

No wonder Roger had been so satisfied with her that he neglected Gay. She had enough to satisfy several men—and a woman, also!

Gay finally let her up about ten o'clock. "Better get dressed, honey, Roger will be coming home soon," she said. She lay and watched her with satisfaction as Doris dressed hastily, flinging on her clothes.

The girl scarcely looked at her. She seemed in a daze. When she started out of the door, she said in a muffled voice. "I shouldn't have come tonight."

Gay stretched luxuriously. "So glad you did, Doris, sweet. Do come again—when Roger is gone."

She laughed softly as Doris ran down the hallway.

This might cure her. If not—another session would not be amiss. Gay had thoroughly enjoyed herself.

Gay the woman had enjoyed the evening. Gay the artist reminisced about, savoring the memory of that soft blond hair spread out on her shoulders, the soft white arms so curved and rounded as they had hugged her. That soft body, those soft limbs. Yes, Doris would be her next subject. She would preserve her in paint.

Anyone that sweet and passionate deserved to be immortalized in a painting. And Gay could do it.

She lay lazily thinking about the painting. She heard Roger drive up, and grinned mockingly. What he had missed tonight! Gay had not missed it. Gay got what Roger would have gotten if he'd stayed home. She arose, put on the robe, and went out to assure Roger that her headache was much much better, darling.

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