Blue Moon by James King Read Free Book Online

toshop; my mother needed some wool and various other odds-and-ends. Not terribly excited by my mission, Rosie did not offer to join me. Instead of heading for the department store, I walked two more blocks beyond it until I reached the hotel. I had no other plans. I did not have the nerve to phone Norman’s room. I guess I must have been hoping to run into him. And, of course, that’s exactly what happened.
    He emerged from the front of Connaught just as I reached it. “Evelyn, how heavenly to see you again!”
    My face blanched, so startled was I to see him and by his welcome. Not knowing exactly what to say, I hesitated. But I need not have worried. He asked if I was free. “You must be out shopping. Are you finished?” In retrospect, this was a foolish question since I was not carrying a shopping bag. I agreed with him that I was indeed free, and we wandered to a tea room a block away.
    As soon as we had ordered, he observed how much like Hedy Lamarr I looked. The resemblance had not gone unnoticed by me: I was an avid reader of
Photoplay
and had seen all of the Austrian-born star’s films. The navy was not really a subject of conversation that day, although Norman mentioned he would be in Hamilton only for two more
nights.
He asked if I had a sweetheart or a “boy chum” I was close to. I assured him that was not the case. “Have you ever had a boyfriend?” He seemed upset when I told him no. Finally, he asked: “You’ve never had a physical relationship with a man?” I blushed, admitting that was the truth of the situation. After a brief pause, he whispered, “Would you like to? With me?”
    To be honest, I wasn’t interested in such things. I was enthralled by romantic love, but I had never been inclined to perform the kind of acts of which Rosie had spoken with unconcealed relish. For me, Hollywood and all its attendant culture about the glamorous lives of the stars was enough sex for me. Mr. White put me on the spot. If I said no, I would be closing myself off from a potentially interesting arena of human activity; if I said yes, I might be able to learn about such things from a real gentleman. So I said yes.
    After he snuck me into his room that afternoon, things went very slowly at first. From Rosie, I had heard such expressions as “petting,” “climax,” and even “orgasm.” In cruder moments, she had described “hand jobs” and “blow jobs.” Mr. White was clinical in an extremely professorial way once we were seated on the sofa in his room. Hispenis was uncircumcised, he informed me, was medium size in length (seven inches) but extremely thick (such width being a special source of pleasure for his various partners). We kissed a bit and then Mr. White undid his belt, unzipped his fly, and proceeded to show me his “member” (another word he used frequently to describe his penis). He then asked me to take it in my mouth. I remembered Rosie had told me that boys with “big dicks” always cautioned her to be careful she did not allow her teeth to graze their instruments. When I confessed this knowledge to Mr. White, he nodded sagely in agreement. In addition, he instructed me to place the tip of my tongue under the cap of his penis—this would give him additional pleasure. I proceeded to “eat” (Rosie’s word) my partner, but I was not prepared for the sour, salt-tasting phlegm which eventually filled my mouth.
    Only after that dire event did we remove our clothes, move to the bed, remove the bed covers and slip under the sheets. Mr. White explored my vagina with considerable detail, poking his fingers into it assiduously. Very disappointed that I did not become wet, he asked me if I would play with his penis with my hands. I did this and he soon came to another climax. I was happy the white liquid was not deposited in my mouth this time. After about two hours, I told Mr. White I