White Castle”: A “Becoming” Excerpt

Covering his hand with both of her hands so the lady sitting next to her could not see what he was doing, slouching lower, Gina crossed her legs.

 He felt the heat generated from her thighs and pubis…

Gina allowed his hand to remain there… just long enough to realize that he’d reached his goal, then, lifting it over the armrest, putting his hand onto his lap, holding it there, “Later.” she whispered.

Later!

“Later.” Having whispering the provocative word, like the gloating fisherman who’d finally hooked an elusive fish, sitting back, Gina thoroughly enjoyed the movie, also Mitchell’s squirming.

 __________________________________________________________

CAREFUL, VIVIDLY SEXUAL SCENE COMING UP!

White Castle

Chicago, Illinois

June 18, 1949

“That was a ‘great’ movie!

In the jammed aisle, pressed within the crowd of exiting people.

“Yeah, it sure was!”

Into the well-lit foyer.

“You girls hungry?”

Outside, beneath the brilliantly glaring light bulbs lining the theater marquee.

“Yeah, Frankie, I could eat a cow.” Taking Mitchell’s arm, pressing it against her side, Gina reeled in the slack on the line of the circling fish…

A somewhat fickle fish because, again, Mitchell felt all eyes were on him and on this girl. This girl that just a short while ago had actually appeared to be pretty. But now, under the harsh light of thousands of unfrosted marquee light bulbs, Gina had once again been transformed into the sharp-faced, pale-skinned specter she’d been earlier. Pulling his arm free, kneeling while pretending to retie a shoelace, the elusive fickle fish spit the hook out.

Walking four abreast on the wide sidewalk, flanked by Gina on the far inside and Mitchell on the far outside, Lisa and Frank walked arm-in-arm.

What’d I do wrong? Gina wondered. Did I hold him off too long?

She’d played the eternal female game any number of times in the past and it had always worked before: her, getting him—‘whoever’ the him of the moment was—worked into a state of sexual expectation, she would back away and play hard to get for a while and by that time, more often than not, the guy would be completely subservient and willing to do ‘anything’ she’d asked. Once, though, Gina had lost all control and had gotten ‘it’ roughly in a dark alley, standing painfully wedged between a telephone pole and a brick wall. Even so, she understood the boy’s uncontrollable need and as frightening as it had been, it was also exciting to know that she was the cause of that need.

This technique did two things for Gina: it assured her that she’d have sexual gratification—or at least the attention she so desperately craved— also it eased her conscience over her often uncontrollable promiscuity.

Gina Glambos knew that she was not pretty or even cute, but when she was with a boy, almost any boy, the boy usually treated her as though she were his ‘bambina’ and the most beautiful girl in the world.

Gina did… Sheloved the affection and closeness, but mostly loved the control the sexual act usually gave her... But she could not understand Mitchell.

Different from any boy she’d ever been with, from the moment he’d entered the apartment. From the moment she’d seen him. From the moment she’d been with him she’d wanted nothing more than for Mitchell to desire her as she desired him.

While In Lisa’s bedroom, after she’d finally been able to warm him up, before he’d gotten sick she had been ‘hot’, much hotter than at most other times with most other boys.

Drawn to his unpretentious good looks and innocence, Gina knew that he was wholly inexperienced with girls because Frank had told her so. But even so she found it hard to believe that any boy that looked as good as Mitchell— even at his age of sixteen, so she thought— wouldn’t have a dozen girls throwing themselves at him. Maybe they’re different where he lives. Nah, they can’t be all ‘that’ different! But yet, Maybe so. Maybe they’re snobbish. Maybe he doesn’t realize just how good looking he is. Or maybe he really is that that shy. Whatever the reason… Maybe, because he was not ‘turned on’ by her, Gina ‘was’ turned on by him, and by the time she’d finally gotten him undressed and, literally, into her hands, his strange-feeling penis had made her even more passionate. Gina had thought she had him panting in the theater, and she did, ‘then’. Now, though, it was as it had been when they’d first met. Gina had been ‘reversed’ on: She was supposed to be standoffish with him doing the panting, instead he was being standoffish and she was doing the panting.

With Gina Glambos it was a game she was compelled to play.

With Mitchell Lipensky, as anxious as he was to actually see the genitalia of a girl and, of course, to have intercourse. Unlike the ‘any port in a storm’ mentality of most other guys, on that day Mitchell Lipensky had discovered that he must have ‘some’ semblance of affection for the girl. At that moment he was not attracted to Gina, and, he thought, The girls I can get I don’t want. And, so he thought, The girls I want, like Amy Pearlman, I can’t get… Sure, at Lisa’s, after a while I did want to fuck Gina. But I’d been drinking lots of wine and got drunk and her tits and ass felt so nice and, God, the way it felt when she touched me… ‘there’. Sure, in the movie it felt great touching her tits. But she looked much nicer then… Wait a minute, what’s changed? Leaning forward, looking across Frank and Lisa to Gina; She looks lonely, and—away from the harsh lights of the movie marquee—she don’t look so bad now. And we’re going be alone again. So, what the hell! And—well, possibly somewhat of an ‘any port in a storm’ mentality. So—dropping back a step, crossing behind Lisa and Frank, “Hi!” .

“Hi!” Gina answered back.

                                                               ****

“Where’d they come from?” Mitchell asked almost to himself, but loud enough for Frank, who was sitting alongside to hear.

“Huh?”

In a White Castle.

In a white room eating hamburgers, munching on French fries and attempting to draw thick malted-milk through white straws. Frank and Mitchell sat on one side of a white, plastic booth and the girls on the other.

Mitchell laughed.

“What’s so funny, Mitchie?”

“Gina, believe me, you wouldn’t wanna know.”

“Yeah, I would.” Reaching across the table she playfully punched him on the shoulder. “Come on! What’s so funny?”

“You sure you wanna know? You won’t be mad?”

“Mitchie, baby, would I ever be mad at’j’ya?”

“Well,” hesitating as he looked into her blue eyes. “okay… Gina, you didn’t have ’em when I first met’j’ya. You had ’em tonight when I first saw you, but then you didn’t have ’em in the movie when you let me, uh, you know,” looking at her chest, “but you sure as hell got ’em now!”

“Mitch,” laughing, talking around a mouthful of hamburger, “what the hell ya talkin’ ‘bout?”

“Frankie, look at her! You notice anything different?”

Frank and Lisa stared and, suddenly embarrassed, Gina blushed.

“Can’t you see?” Mitchell said. “Don’t you notice?”

Bewildered, Frank and Lisa shrugged their shoulders.

Pulling Frank’s head closer, covering his mouth Mitchell whispered in his ear.

“Jesus, Mitch!” Laughing. “ ‘That’s’ what’s botherin’ ya?”.

“Le’me in on it, guys! What’s so funny?”

“Gina,” holding laughter back while attempting to look serious. “Mitchie wants to know how’s come ya suddenly got…” His laughter breaking through... “tits!”

“That’s what’s botherin’ ya?” Glancing about the room to be sure none of the other patrons are looking in their direction as, reaching in her blouse Gina withdrew her closed hand and, reaching across the table. “Here!” attempted to put her hand into his, but he hesitated. “Mitch, go on, ‘take it’! It won’t bite’j’ya!” She giggled. “An’ if it does, it’ll be the first time in history one of ’em ever did.”

“Okay.” Reluctantly loosening his hand, he allowed Gima’s hand onto his.

Opening her fingers and withdrawing her hand the compacted pyramid of foam rubber, as though suddenly animated, sprung off Mitchell’s palm, did a somersault and landed, pointy-end down, into a blob of ketchup on the corner of his hamburger wrapper.

“ ‘Falsies’! Ain’t’j’ya never seen a falsie?”

Looking from the cone of pink foam rubber that was sitting in his ketchup, up at Gina, then back to his hamburger wrapper, ‘Oy, gevalt’! ‘Falsies’? They’re falsies!”

All eyes looked at the cone-shaped thing sitting amidst French fries and ketchup…

Suddenly the entire table burst into hard laughter.

“Better bury the poor thing.” Lisa said, dropping a napkin over it.

Looking at Gina, whose chest was all but flat on one side and well pronounced on the other’ “Better take the other one out you look kind’a lop…” breaking into renewed laughter, “…sided.” Mitchell picked the falsie out of the ketchup, wrapped it in a clean napkin and handed it to her.

“Yeah, thanks.” Reaching into her blouse Gina removed the other foam rubber pad and, noting that he was watching her ‘every’ movement, put both into her purse.

                                                                ****

“… ‘Shit’!” Pointing to the lit window on the third floor. “My ol’ lady’s home! ‘Shit’!”

Feeling his heart drop, as though confirming what he absolutely did ‘not’ want confirmed. “Your mother’s home?”

“Yeah.” Looking at Mitchell. “They must’a let her outta the late shift. ‘Shit’!”

“Hey, I got an idea! Why don’t we go to the park?”

“Oh, yeah, ‘sure’, Frankie, that’s all I gotta do, is come home with grass stains all over this here white skirt! Goddamn ’er!”

Not merely disappointed, “There’s gotta be someplace we can go!” Actually, downright desperate. “Can we get together tomorrow?”

“Ain’t no place to go to on Sunday, Mitchie, less’n ya got a car. An’ anyway, I gotta go to church in the mornin’ an’ then I gotta go with my ol’ lady to visit her goddamned brother.”

“So, when’ll you be through?”

“Too late. We always stay for supper, an’ I gotta be dyin’ to get out of it. An’ even if I am dyin’, my ol’ lady has a shit-fit! Tomorrow ain’t a good day. ‘Shit’! When’r ya goin’ home?”

“Tomorrow evening, I guess.”

“You can always come back again another time, can’t’j’ya?”

“Hey, Gina,” Frank said, “I got an idea! Why don’t’j’ya have Mitch walk you into the hallway? Lisa’n’me ain’t in no hurry.” Winking at her conspiratorially, he sat on a step. “Go on, take your time.”

“Yeah!” Sitting next to Frank. “Frankie’n’me’ll wait.”

“Yeah! Why didn’t I think’a that?” Taking his hand, “Come on, Mitch.” She led him up the steps, through the cracked, frosted plate-glass door to a dark alcove under the stairwell.

 Anyone coming down the stairs or entering into the building would purposely have to go out of their way to see into the hidden alcove.

“It ain’t a nice cozy bed, but it sure’s better’n nothin’!” Rubbing her body against his body, putting her mouth to his mouth, the tip of her tongue brushed his lips, then met with his tongue…

“Mmmm, Mitchie, you get a boner faster’n any one I know.”

Taking this as a compliment, which it was, “Yeah, thanks.” His hands, having found their way pulled the back of her blouse from under the band of her skirt then, fumbling with the clasp of her bra and thinking it too complicated, about to lift the cups over her breasts…

“Wait, Mitchie.” Fingers moving quickly, reaching behind her back unclasping the bra, Gina’s breasts fell free and instantly…

Unable to see ‘anything’ in Lisa’s pitch-black room, the beauty of a sixteen year old girls bare breasts gving life to years of masturbatory dreaming... Oh, God! The double warmth filled his hands.

Pulling back a bit, “Wait, Mitchie, don’t wrinkle me.” Gina unbuttoned her blouse, giving him time to unbutton his pants and to work his engorged penis through the overlapping slit of his Jockey shorts and the fly of his slacks.

Coming together again, feeling him rigidly poking against her. “You ain’t so shy anymore, are you, baby.” They kissed and, holding ‘him’, playing her thumb over the still-strange spearhead of his glans...

In the heat of the moment, meaning it. “Mitchie, I love the way your dick feels!”

No longer benumbed with wine…

Able to actually see Gina’s bare breasts, and to see her hand holding him, the touch of her cool hand on the flesh his extended penis exciting him almost beyond comprehension. Now touching his tongue to the hardened cone of a ‘real’ girl’s nipple. Tasting the taste of Gina’s flesh…

“And I love the way your tits taste.”

Kissing. Fondling. Tasting.

In the shadowy triangle of this hidden alcove: Skinny, homely, Gina Glambos became the living incarnation of all the girls his imagination—and hand—had ever allowed Mitchell Lipensky to make love to.

Lifting the back of her skirt and slip, reaching beneath the band of her underpants, he held the soft warmth of her buttocks... Then stretching downward his finger touched the puckered orifice of her rectum. Only, though, till he realized what it was he was touching then quickly, stretching further, touched, parted and easily slid his finger through the warm, very warm, wet, very wet lower furrow of Gina’s, “Mmmm, Gina!” vagina.

The taste of her breast. The feel of her wetness. The wonder of the sensation of ‘her’ touch combined to cause a burning urgency and he began to pump within the heavenly constraint of Gina’s hand and…

Suddenly he was out of her hand and she slipped from his hand and, “Oh, God!” he stood perfectly still… savoring the erotically delicious draw and release pressure of her mouth, and the flicking play of her tongue.

Squatting, Gina’s thighs were spread and her vagina open to her hand and, as the pressure of her mouth tightened and loosened over and around length and width of his penis, keeping time with the movement of her mouth, Gina’s fingers played over her clitoris and into the channel of her vagina….

Tight, loose. In, out. Up, down. Tight, loose. In, out…

Now!

Oh, God!

Now! He knew he was about to ejaculate and tried, feebly, to pull from her mouth, but…

Feeling his flimsy effort, knowing Mitchell was about to ejaculate, tightening her lips, increasing the draw and release pressure Gina pressed him harder against the wall.

“Gina, I’m…” All semblance of willpower gone. “ ‘Oh, God’!”

Spasm following spasm, Gina and Mitchell orgasmed together, till…

When nothing was left.

When the orgasmic itch, tug and release in her ovaries subsided.

When the flow of his semen stopped.

When his blood-engorged penis softened and wilted…

“Whew!” Standing. “That was nice.” she said, then added, “J’ya like it, Mitchie?”

Did I like it?

Mitchell did not know how to respond to ‘did you like it’. Even if he had the breath to say ‘yes’, ‘yes’ wasn’t near enough so combining a sigh with a moan, “Mmmm!”

Yeah, baby, ‘Mmmm’s right! An’ ya know what?”

His breath and sensibilities near normal. “ ‘What’?”

“You taste good, Mitchie. Real good!”

That… stuff ‘tastes good’! he thought. That tastes ‘real’ good?

‘You taste good, Mitchie. Real good’! Not the right thing to say to Mitchell because the ‘thought’ of Gina swallowing his semen made him slightly ill. Also, as his penis shrunk so then did his affection… Whatever affection he’d felt for Gina shrank along with his penis and having absolutely no idea of how to respond to, ‘You taste good, Mitchie. Real good’. His combination sigh and moan saying all he was able to say. Mitchell buttoned his fly.

Arraigning her clothing. “Mitchie, I wanna tell ya somethin’.” She hesitated. “I don’t do that… You know, ‘that’, that I just did to you, with just any guy. I gotta like a guy a lot to do that to him.” When he didn’t respond, she added, “You believe me, don’t’j’ya?”

Having not the slightest idea that once time and distance removed him from here and now, the remembrance of his harsh words and actions would guiltily replay within the mind of Mitchell Lipensky...

‘You believe me, don’t’j’ya’? “Yeah, ‘sure’, I do” he said, but really didn’t. “Thanks for doin’, uh, ‘it’, with me.”

“Yeah, Mitchie.” Catching the tone of his voice. “You’re welcome.”

“Look, Gina. Frank’n’Lisa’s been waitin’ for me an’ we’ve been in here kind of a long time an’ I better get goin’.”

Coming out of the alcove, he went to the door.

“Mitchie!”

Opening the door, “Yeah?” he turned around.

“Somethin’ I been wantin’ to tell ya… I think it was real cute, you bringin’ that ‘Captain Midnigh’t ring so’s you’d have an excuse to get me into the bedroom.”

“Uh, it was really Frank’s…”

“An’ from now on, whenever I hear Captain Midnight on the radio I’m gonna think’a you. Ya know why?”

Captain Midnight had been off the radio for years, but, “No, why?” he asked anyway.

“ ‘Cause you’re so good-lookin’ ya look like a hero, an’ you remind me of him… Captain Midnight.”

Not sure if a mere ‘thank you’ was enough for this type of compliment. “Thank you.”

Standing on opposite sides of the hallway, Gina Glambos and Mitchell Lipensky looked at each other in the muted light of the cracked, frosted plate-glass door.

Wanting to say something, “Mitchie, I, uh…” starting to say something, instead, her face contorting as though she were about to cry. Turning abruptly, running, Gina started up the stairs.

Listening to the hollow sound of her receding footsteps on the bare, wooden stairs, Mitchell suddenly realized that Gina had given him something… She’d given him…? Gina had given him an erotic, physical contact that up to this time Mitchell had only been able to dream of and knew that he would always remember this night, and this girl.

Also feeling a need to say something, “Gina, ‘thanks’!” Waiting for an answer, he heard the sounds of far off, receding footsteps... then silence and a moment later the slamming of a distant door. With the slamming of the door a deep sadness overtook him.

Trying to rid himself of this sudden depression, Well, he thought, I didn’t get fucked, and I never even got to see what a cunt looks like, but a blow-job ain’t too bad… And, tweaking his ego, I remind her of Captain Midnight.

                                                                  ****

Forcing himself to smile, “Hi!” Mitchell stepped through the cracked, frosted plate-glass door.

 End of: “Into a Different World” Series

1… Into a Different World

2… Pizza and Girls

3… Olive Oyl and Porky Pig

4...Sensory Equivalent

5...Popcorn and Petting

6… White Castle

Next “Becoming” in sequence excerpt:                                       

                             “Union Pier:1949”