A FBOW excerpt in sequence: “An Old Whore”

Lakeside, Michigan

July 4, 1958

Following directly behind, Mitchell realised that his wife was wearing the same cream coloured, button-down chemise that he had last seen her wear on the night of the encounter with Chicago Police Officer John Mahoney, and the chemise looked a bit large on her then.

At this time, though, it fit perfectly and remembering Marsha’s… ‘Later’. What Mitchell Lipensky particularly noticed was that beneath the well fitting cream coloured chemise there were no pantie or bra lines…. On the beach would be just fine with him!

At this time there were a number of families and couples sitting spread about the beach waiting for the high rocket displays that could be seen coming from Union Pier and nine miles up the coast, from New Buffalo and further up the coast, Michigan City and occasionally, if the sky is dark enough and the rocket high enough, it could be seen coming from Chicago sixty-nine nautical miles across Lake Michigan.

Though it was still twilight the sky was clear of clouds as far as the eye could see promising a perfectly clear, dark night —perfect for far off fireworks.

Walking about forty feet from the last occupied blanket and the same distance from water’s edge. Not posed as a question, “How’s this?” Marsha said, putting the basket onto the sand.

“Perfect!”

Spreading the blanket so it primarily faced east, Mitchell waited until the blanket was spread and smoothed, then put Michael onto it.

Sitting with his legs spread, Mitchell patted between and Marsha, knowing the meaning sat between her husband’s legs with their baby between hers.

“So, Mitchie, let me ask you a question...”

“Yeah?”

“Now I ‘promise’ I won’t be mad because, ‘God’ knows I’d deserve it but… while you were on your own, did you, uh...”

“See any girls?”

“Yeah… But I won’t be mad if you did.”

“Earl...”

The guy you work with who’s dad helped you get your new job?”

“Yeah. He wanted to fix me up with his girlfriend's sister who's name is 'Daisy Mae'. 

“Like in ‘L’ll Abner’?”

“Yeah… ‘Daisy Mae Rabinowitz’.”

Giggling… “So, did you go out with, uh, Daisy Mae Rabinowitz?”

“No, I didn’t. I didn’t want to go out with anyone until knew what was happening with us… And you?”

“Well I did meet this guy on the beach….”

“Hey, I didn’t say that ‘I’ won’t get mad!”

“Nah, don’t worry about it...He was an old man that kind of reminded me of daddy and I’d been ‘really’ lonely, so began to talk to him and asked if he’d like to sit down...” Her voice trailing off.

“So?”

“Mitchie, this old guy told me to call him ‘Nate.’ And while we were talking about, uh, everyday things his… uh, cock poked from the leg of his bathing suit and… began to grow.”

“He showed you his dick?”

“Mitch, he sat there leaning back, smiling while his cock kind of… slithered out. It was ‘horrible’!”

“What did you do?”

“As fast as I could, I gathered Mikey and our things up and called him a ‘fucking pervert and that they ought to lock him up in the loonie-bin and throw away the key’! Then I rushed to Red-Dot to call the police...”

“And?”

Because we’re unincorporated here they transferred me to the state police who kind of knew who I was talking about and they transferred me to the Detroit police who had been after this creep for years.”

“Anything happen?”

“I gave them Red-dot’s phone number but heard nothing since.”

Sitting with Michael between her spread legs as she sat between Mitchell’s spread leg, with his arms about her stomach— looking to the nearest blanket, noting that no one was looking in their direction, unbuttoning the first three buttons of the chemise then taking hold of her husband’s right hand, she slipped it through and held it tightly to her left breast as…

Sitting cheek to cheek with their baby nestled closely by though Mitchell was well aware that he was cupping his wife’s warm, soft breast, the sense of absolute contentment far outweighed the remotest thought of sex.

The sky darkening, but minutes before the first thread of sparkling illumination split the black sky...

“Mitchie, I ‘love’ your idea!”

“Which idea?”

“Mikey and me staying here for the rest of the summer.”

“You said you were lonely.”

“Won’t be now, baby… Now it’s the way it was when I was a kid. When you and me met.”

“How’s that?”

“Back when I was a kid, the families would come here on Memorial Day to clean up their places and stock them with what they’d be needing and get the utilities turned on.

“Then when school ended, we’d pack up the cars and come on back and the men would stay until Sunday evening when they would leave the kids with their mothers..” halting a moment, “… ‘most’ of the mothers would stay here with their kids then again, on Friday evening...”

Cutting her off...“You don’t mind doing that? Staying here by yourself for another two ninths.

“ ‘Mind’? Mitchie, I ‘love’ it! Now that we’re together again and we’re doing what all my family did when I was a kid… Being here with ‘my’ kid...”

“And for me it’ll be like I go on a vacation every week. Coming here to the country, to my wive...”

“ That’ll greet you...” kissing his cheek, “... with a blow job.”

Returning the kiss.. “Fucking once in a while would be good, too.”

Slipping the hand holding her breast downward, as far as Michael’s leaning back allowed, which had it laying flat against Marsha’s hair. “Don’t worry, baby, we’ll do plenty of that.”

A distant flash of light followed by a hollow ‘boom’ and a climbing silver streak of light that blossomed into a hundred red, white and blue streamers.

Attracted by the distant ‘boom’, Michael’s eyes followed the silver streak and laughed his baby’s laugh when it blossomed into red, white and blue.

Though never seeing one from across Lake Michigan, within thirty minutes the Union Pier display ended, then in another ten minutes New Buffalo and distant Michigan City.

“We in any rush to get back?”

“No, baby...” Marsha said, “...I didn’t plan or rushing back.”

Michael’s chin now laying upon his chest, Marsha lay the sleeping baby on the far side of the blanket.

The small family remained as others vacated the beach.

When all were gone, and the only sound the ripple of water upon the shore.

“Marcie...” urging her from a sitting position to onto her back, his lips finding hers, tongues touching “...I, love you.”

The three top buttons unbuttoned, widening the seams from side to side opening her chest and breasts to the black night, the slight scent of sand and serf… and his lips.

His tongue gently dancing from nipple to nipple, his lips gently drawing on one, then the other, as...

Her fingers finding and unbuttoning the five remaining buttons, the chemise now lay fully open.

Pulling the T-shirt over his head and slipping the shorts down and off…

Their arms tightly about each other...Their bodies bound to each other ...Their lips joined in the gentle kiss of lovers.

As though by mutual consent the two lay near motionless— motionless but for the husband’s penis is held captive between the wife’s thighs… Not within her, but held tightly against her... Moving but her pelvis and moving but his pelvis the moments are sensed as though in a rapture…

Neither speak, her breath against his cheek, his breath against her cheek.

He feels the caress of hair and moisture against his penis…

She senses the soft hardens that caresses the length of her vagina...

After many enraptured moments...

“My, God, Marcie...” the husbands whispers, “...that night, the day I got your letter, I dreamed…

The wife’s mind goes to the dream she dreamed on the night she thought he had received her letter...

“...You and me were together...” The wife said, “Like this...”

Rotating his body, atop now… “No, baby, like this.”

The wife’s thighs open to him, accepting ‘him’.

Breathlessly spoken, “Marcie, I feel I’m home.”

Breathlessly spoken, “Mitchie, you are home.”

An Old Whore

Detroit, Michigan

September 7, 1958

On this day, wearing the universally accepted uniform of an exhibitionist—a topcoat—Gordon Nathanson followed what appeared to be a middle aged, meek housewife dressed in a plain floral print house dress holding, by its fabric string handle, a paper shopping bag containing one pound of hamburger meat, one sectioned raw chicken, one can each of Campbell’s tomato and mushroom soups, a loaf of Jewish rye bread in a white deli bag, a half dozen each of delicious apples and navel oranges, and one dozen, extra large, grade AA eggs.

Walking behind on the scantily occupied sidewalk, Gordon waited until he saw a bisecting alley, then speeding up he passed the woman, cut into the alley, and as she came abreast stepped out and…

****

Unknown to Gordon Nathanson, the lady was Janice Kemblowski, who was not a lady, but a sixty-fiveyear old prostitute on her way to her monthly rendezvous with seventy-four year old Arthur Katzman, whose milquetoast wife, Beverly, had died seven years earlier, and now Arthur could only get it up when his Beverly/Janice wife came through the door wearing a cheap house dress—as she always had—carrying a shopping bag full of groceries—as she usually did.

Dragging her to the floor, Arthur would ravage her—as only a seventy-four year old man can ravage a woman—then Janice, now naked, facing his feet, straddling Arthur with her hairy hind quarters in open view, gave him a blow job… Then helped lift him off the floor and Arthur, for the wife act, blow job and his once a month, sometimes, orgasm paid Janice’s fee of fifteen dollars, plus for the bag of groceries.

****

“Hey, lady!”

“Jesus H. fuckin’ Christ!” In deep thought, startled, Janice Kemblowski threw both arms into the air, spilling the contents of the shopping bag where one dozen, extra large, grade AA eggs splattered over her dowdy housewife shoes, and the one can each of Campbell’s tomato and mushroom soups, along with six delicious apples and six navel oranges rolled down the steeply pitched street.

As always, buoyed by the startled look on the person’s face and her shocked reaction, Gordon’s reedy penis instantly inflated… but didn’t stay that way very long because…

Doing the last thing Gordon Nathanson, or ‘any’ exhibitionist, or, for that matter, any man expects…

Janice Kemblowski plowed into him, smashing Gordon against a brick wall and, not being too bashful, her forearm pressed to his throat, grabbing hold of his now instantly deflated penis; hanging onto the long, dangly appendage as though it were a lifeline…

“Cop!” For the first time in her life Janice yelled for a “Cop! God-damn-it! Gi’me a ‘goddamned cop!”

Patrick McGarry, a rookie walking his beat, rushed to the sound of shouting.

As soon as McGarry arrived and cuffed Gordon, wanting nothing to do with the police, figuring this had to be his first day on the beat because, surprisingly, Patrick McGarry must be the only cop in Detroit that did not know her, Janice Kemblowski disappeared, naturally without giving her name.

Although they’re not too happy about a rookie cop, indeed, on the first day of his beat apprehending him, after seventeen years the Detroit Police Department did, finally, have the “snake man” in the Michigan State looney bin.

Janice Kemblowski was happy she’d had Gordon Nathanson arrested because, as she told a fellow whore later, “Creeps like him give sex a bad name.”

Harriet Nathanson no longer had to worry about problems two and three.

Red-Dot grocery closed after Labour Day, without a forwarding phone number and unfortunately for Marsha Lipensky she never knew what became of ‘Nate’.

Next FBOW excerpt in sequence: A Truce