Out of Peoria: A Story of Innocence lost.
Chapter 11: True love, and a surprising discovery.
It was early afternoon before we surfaced for air. Gradually the frenetic scratching, biting grinding gave way to gentle nibbling and stroking.
Heidi lit a cigarette.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she said. “I have every bad habit there is ---- well almost,” she added with a wicked smile.
Heidi’s place was luxury personified. High up on the hill, somewhere off Mulholland Drive. I had had to call her three times to check the route. There was no name plate at the entrance to the driveway, but the gate opened noiselessly to let me in, and closed as noiselessly behind me.
“It was bought with Cecil’s money, of course, but it’s in my name. I insisted.”
We sipped a deliciously chilled Chardonnay. Heidi lit her second cigarette. Our relationship had begun as it continued. First wild sex, then gentle sex, then much talking during ‘recovery’, then gentle sex, then wild sex ….. It is I suppose in the nature of being ‘in love’ that this sequence has to play itself out. Also, possibly, that each element in the sequence followed the other “as the night the day”, and that ‘talking’ was no less important than sex. Obviously, I enjoyed sex with Heidi immensely. Her body and what she did with it excited me tremendously. But less obviously, just laying back on the pillow, sexually satiated if but for a while, and talking about ourselves, our feelings, our past, our aspirations --- this aspect was also exciting and stimulating.
With Heidi I felt a ‘one-ness’ that I had never felt before nor since -- I can judge this since much water has gone under bridge between my first meeting with Heidi and the time of writing. If Heidi is not the ‘love of my life’, then there are sectors of my sexual universe I have yet to explore.
We swapped histories. Heidi told me how she had met Cecil in a bar in Berlin, how he had begged her to move to LA, and how she had accepted, on one condition --- marriage!
“If they want you enough, they’ll do anything, even marry you. You won’t believe the contract Cecil signed. He probably doesn’t even realize himself what’s in it. All he cared about at the time was getting his cock sucked.”
She took a deep draft from the cigarette and blew the smoke high into the air above the bed.
“Those were the days when guys had to look long and hard for a girl who could give them a decent blow job. I did Cecil so good he couldn’t help but come back for more. When he was hooked, I turned off the tap. Marriage, or no more BJ’s. Oh, he resisted, but eventually he came round.”
“I was lucky,” she continued pensively. “These days a girl who don’t give good head doesn’t even make it through high-school!”
Compared with Heidi’s past, my own seemed tame. She wanted to know everything, and I told her everything. She knew of course about Cecil’s ‘boudoir’ and what he and I did there. But there are limits to the wisdom of ‘letting it all hang out’ and as things turned out I was very glad I did not own up to her that I had actually enjoyed being with Cecil! Well, ‘enjoyment’ is a relative thing. My standard of comparison was mind-numbing sessions with the ‘green ties’ and ‘red jackets’ of this world! Against this backdrop masturbation was elysium!
But it would not be fair to Cecil to imply that being with him was less satisfying than masturbation. I had enjoyed being with him. I could not deny it to myself, even though it was not necessarily wise to admit it to Heidi now.
“I long since ceased caring about Cecil, dear,” she said. “And I know what you do with him, and I understand why you do it. He’s had four or five HSA’s over the past few years. You don’t get to keep the job unless you shag him.”
“But you don’t need to worry,” she continued. “He’s on a new trip. In his dotage he’s gone back to teens. He has a beach house in Malibu with three of them installed. He’s there right now, no doubt lying on his back getting sucked or fucked by one of them, or all three together for that matter.”
So that was why our Friday sessions had come to an end! To my amazement, I felt betrayal --- somewhat hypocritically, given that I was currently in bed with Cecil’s wife! But there you were. A girl had her pride, and to be displaced by a gaggle of scraggly teenagers in a beach house…! What had the bard said “Hell hath no fury….”? At that moment, there was no fury, just a niggling feeling of annoyance. The fury would come though, later.
“Young girls these days,” Heidi continued, “they have no idea what they are worth. They give it away for nothing. When I was a teen I had to work long and hard to make ends meet. Many a day I did ten, twenty guys. Some were nice, but most were utterly repulsive.”
Heidi insisted I recount every detail of the weekend’s activities. This I did, leaving nothing out.
“This Pietro,” she said. “Does he have a wart just below his left ear?”
I struggled to think.
“I really couldn’t say. Maybe.”
“Oh well, it doesn’t matter.”
Heidi recounted her youth endlessly. It seemed to have a fascination for her, and she seemed to need to talk about the depths she had plumbed. Low born in a Berlin suburb, she had taken to the streets at sixteen and switched to the bar scene as soon as she was plausibly old enough to drink legally.
“And after two years turning tricks at $50 a pop, I happened on Cecil. Bingo. Oil!”
A year later she was ensconced in this luxurious villa in LA.
“Talk about rags to riches!” she said. “Can you imagine how I felt! But I was smart about it. Cecil had his pleasure with me, and I fulfilled my part of my contract with him to the letter. He can have no complaint. I just made sure there was a ‘side’ to the contract that he had to fulfill! Now is payback time, and Cecil at least has the grace not to try to wriggle out of what he signed up for. Not that he could, mind you! I nailed him good!”
I was itching to ask. But held back. Eventually, it came out.
“When –er-- when did you realize you are a lesbian?” I said. Then, daringly I added, “Does Cecil know?”
“No idea,” she replied. “Am I one?”
