1 On July 11th, the temperature in downtown Willyville topped 94degrees, a considerable jump from the high of 78 the previous day. The highpressure area that Bob Katt, the weather forcaster for TV station KNUT, hadbeen predicting all week had finally arrived. The sun sat hot and brassy ina sky devoid of clouds. Bob Katt had predicted that the temperature wouldonly increase for the rest of the week, at least. The heat wave had begun. Three days later the temperature broke 100 and everybody knew the heatwas here to stay. The air was hot and heavy. Those unfortunate enough to beworking outside or without benefit of air conditioning groaned and cursedthe sun, giver of all life and bringer of all misery. Skin became a much more common sight as uncomfortable humans strippeddown to the bare neccessities, if not farther, in search of some relief. Asclothes fell away, so did inhibitions as the human, the horniest animal onearth (who was actually capable of becoming sexually aroused at the meresight of the uncovered body of a fellow human of the preferred sex! Imaginethat!) began to follow the urges that nature had imbued them and that theythemselves had honed to a fine and wonderous art. In other words, once the night cooled off, they started fucking likerabbits. But human nature can be a two edged sword, and while one edge wassweet, the other was very bitter indeed. Hot weather and its attendant illscaused tempers to flare where they otherwise would have been held withdiscretion. Many great home truths, which had been consideratelyunmentioned by friends, lovers, relatives, etc., suddenly came out in fullforce with the expected arguments and fights following. Frustration at theendless discomfort caused human to strike out at fellow human in a futilesubstitute for lashing back at the true source of their aggravation, a safe93 million miles out of reach. The local constabulary spent a great portionof their time quelling these arguments. Of course, being human and just asuncomfortable as everybody else, their tempers were somewhat shorter thanthey would normally have been, and guess who they took it out on? Quite anumber of offenders made their way to the local lockup by way of the localemergency room. But all of this was simply human nature, and none of it was veryserious, at least not on a grand scale. Civilization had survived muchworse. But on a personal level some of the catastropies were very serious.Some lives were changed completely. One such person who'd had his lifechanged by the heat was Harold Sykes. And here's what happened... --- The moon poured in through the open window, flooding the bedroom withan eerie half light. The air was warm, a pleasant 75 degrees. Perfecttemperature for nudity. Cindi settled back on the pillow with a satisfiedsigh of pleasure not yet faded to memory. Harold still kneeled on the bedbetween her knees, his erection pounding almost painfully against hisbelly. The moonlight spilled across her nude, fluid form, and he lovinglyeyed her firm, small breasts, still hard nippled in the aftermath of herorgasm. His eyes roamed down her smooth, taut belly to the wiry mass of herpubic hair, where he had but moments ago spent so much time carefully andartistically bringing her to a powerful climax. Whatever else you could sayabout his performance in the sack, he knew how to give head. It was one ofthe skills he was especially proud of. But enough wool-gathering (bad pun intended). Harold leaned forward,placing his hands on the bed on either side of her. He kissed her fully anddeeply as he gently lowered his weight onto her. For a moment they simplylay there, as he savored the full body contact, the feel of her naked skinagainst his own. Then he raised his hips and she gently guided him intoher. For Harold, at least, no sensation in the world could ever compare tothe warm, slinky feeling of penetration. He thrust deep, and her hips movedin response. His excitement towered to new heights, and his balls ached forrelease. Take it slow, take it slow. He kissed her again and ran his handalong her side, from thigh to shoulder, feeling, touching, loving. He began to pump in a slow sinuous rhythem, her hips moving with his.Her legs raised and locked around his waist as her hands moved along hisback. Her breathing became short and rapid, and Harold knew she wasbuilding to another orgasm. With each thrust, his own pleasure mounted to anew height until finally he poised, breathless, at the brink. Too soon, toosoon... Too late. He cried out as his seed shot into the warm depths of herbody. Face straining, he pumped again, one last time, trying to squeezewhat last litle bit of feeling might be left after that almost painfulexplosion of pleasure. Then he collapsed on top of her, exhausted. For an endless time he lay, gathering strength. Finally it soaked intohis sated conciousness that something was wrong. Cindi lay beneath himwooden, unmoving. He looked down into eyes that stared back with cold fury."What- what's the matter?" The anger in her eyes flared as she placed her hands on his chest andpushed him off. Her strength was surprising, and Harold fairly flew againstthe wall by the bed. Blinking back stars, he looked at her in confusion. "God dammit!" she yelled. Frightened now, Harold could only gasp, "What... what..." "You didn't even try to make it last!" Hands on hips, her bare breastsjiggled fetchingly as she shouted. But Harold wasn't exactly fetched at themoment. "I sure did try! It's not my fault-" "The fuck it isn't! You don't even TRY!" she yelled, "Two pumps, atickle, and a squirt and that's all you're ever good for! I'm sick of it!" What the fuck was this? It was hard to believe she had been sointimate and caring a minute before. Miss Jekyl had just turned into araving Miss Hyde and Harold was far too stunned to properly defend himself."You mean to say you haven't gotten any enjoyment out of tonight?" "Ha!" She was gathering her clothes and putting them on now. "Hasn'tit ever occurred to you that I might get a little tired of being friggedand licked every single night? I want a MAN, dammit! Not some little boywho shoots his wad five seconds after he gets his pants off!" He watched, unbelieving, as she stomped around the room. This was thewoman he had been so in lust with the last few weeks? Was he really such aterrible lover? "Why are you doing this to me?" "You did it to yourself." she snapped. She was fully dressed by now.Shouldering her handbag, she turned to him. "I'm leaving now. Until youlearn how to fuck, don't bother calling me." Her pretty features twistedinto an ugly ironic smile, "Have a nice life." And then she left. Harold stared at the door a long time, his stomachchurning along with his mind. Cindi had deliberately set about to hurt himin the worst way she possibly could. The only thought that kept runningthrough his head was WHY? The sound of a car starting and pulling out floated in through thebedroom window. Somehow this sound seemed to bring reality back into focusand his mind started working again. With a snarl he jumped off the bed andran to the window, throwing the curtains aside. He screamed something out the window, causing lights to come on allover the neighborhood: "YOU FUCKING BITCH!" He ducked back inside before anybody could see him, collapsing back onthe bed. Nothing was resolved, and some painful issues would have to bedealt with in the near future. But he had to admit that, for the moment, he felt a little better. 2 The days seemed to grow longer, and if possible, hotter. Bob Kattrecieved the usual number of crank letters and calls demanding he dosomething about the heat. He even went so far as to run a videotape of anindian rain dance on his show. No such luck, and the local indian communityinundated KNUT with calls demanding Bob's resignation for broadcastingracist material. A couple dozen even went so far as to picket the station'sparking lot. It was noted by many that some of the placards bearing thestation's call sign, the N and the U were transposed, though whether thiswas accidental or intentional was unclear. Bob was beginning to wonder ifit was time for that long overdue vacation. The station manager wonderedthe same thing. The growing membership of the Willyville Nudist Society (formedsomewhere around July 11th) petitioned the mayor's office to temporarilymodify the laws against public indecency so as to allow the nudists topursue their own version of 'personal freedom'. A story about it appearedin the local newspaper, and a day later the mayor's office recieved over athousand anonymous letters in support of the petition. However, almost 80%of those letters were mimeographed in the same writing, unsigned, and sentwithout return addresses. Somebody had been very busy, indeed. There was nocomment from the mayor's office about the whole situation. Rumor had it hehad snuck out of town for a long overdue vacation... --- For Harold Sykes, the usual lunacy of Willyville passed over himwithout notice as his days stretched into a grey cloud of depression. Atwork he hardly spoke, and when he went home he drew the blinds and sat inthe stifling heat staring at a blank wall. When he saw a pretty girl out onthe street he would avert his eyes until she passed by. When his friends atwork spoke to him he would always jump, as if jolted from some privateworld. When asked about his change of behavior, he would simply dismiss itas the aftermath of a breakup. But deep inside his heart ached and he spentlong, sleepless nights wondering who Cindi might be with and what theymight be doing and being certain that she was having a far, far better timenow than she had ever had with him. His depression grew deeper and deeperand he knew that over the horizon lay only more dark clouds. The situation came to a head when Harold nearly throttled a co-workerfor singing "Zipity-Doo-Da" one morning after announcing his engagement.After explaining to his supervisor (and the police officer) that he hadbeen under a lot of stress lately, he was awarded with a two-week (unpaid)vacation and the advice to see a psychiatrist. Soon. Instead he sat at home, watching "Love Boat" reruns and drinking somehorrible beer and lemonade concotion bottled in New Jersey. Masochism wasthe word of the day here. He was idly (and a bit drunkenly) trying to decide whether to use asledgehammer or a shotgun on the TV set when the phone rang. The harsh, obnoxious sound grated in his ears, pulling him from thefantasy that enveloped him. A part of him begged to answer the phone, asusual, to see who would be calling. The rest of him said screw it, whybother? Finally, long ingrained habit won out. He lurched over to the phoneand yanked the reciever off the cradle. Placing it to his mouth, he offeredthe most cheery greeting his jangled mind could come up with. "Go fuck yourself." There was moment's hesitation before a familiar male voice came out ofthe other end. "Harold! How ya doin'?" "Hi, Tom." Harold sighed. Tom was Harold's best friend and a devouthedonist, to boot. "I'm doing fine. Just don't feel like getting out muchin this heat, is all." "Yeah, right." Tom said in a voice that made it perfectly clear hedidn't believe a word of it. "Well, shit, man, you need to get outsometimes, before you start to grow cobwebs or something. And I got justthe thing..." Harold silently groaned and rubbeed his temples. The only thing hewanted was to be left alone. One of Tom's 'just the thing' ideas was thelast thing he needed right now. "Uh, look, maybe later-" "Later my ass!" The voice on the other end roared. "I know whathappened. Kelly told me." Harold's eyes widened but he really wasn'tsurprised. He fully expected Cindi to blab to everyone who would sit stilllong enough to listen. He tried to imagine that Cindy was sitting in frontof him instead of the TV and suddenly his hands fairly itched for thatsledgehammer. Tom continued, "Shit, man, something like that would've killed me.Cindi has got to be the most twisted bitch I have ever heard of. Nobody hasa right to do that to somebody else." "Yeah, I ain't too happy about it either. But I can't do anything, sohow about I call you later-" "I ain't done yet." Tom interrupted firmly. "You've got to get out ofthere and back into circulation. You stay in that dark house much longer,you're going to do something stupid." Harold felt a sudden shock. What hadhe been thinking? He had twelve payments to go on the TV yet. Suddenly thebeer and lemonade in his stomach began to churn. "Look, Harold, I'm your buddy. It hurts me to see what she's done toyou. I wanna help, and I think I know the best way to do it. There's aparty going on Saturday afternoon at this place I know over in SquirrelHeights. Right off Wanker street. The whole gang's gonna be there, alongwith a bunch of other people I don't know. Lots of available girls, I hear.Hoping to add a couple to my collection myself. I think you ought to gowith me. Keep me from getting in too much trouble." Harold's voice was thick as he struggled with his gorge. "I... I don'tknow..." "Aw, c'mon. I want you there. You don't have to do anything or talk toanybody if you don't want. Just soak up some rays and good feelings. Iain't heard of anybody going away from a West Side Party feeling bad." "Well..." "It's settled, then." Tom concluded, perhaps a bit prematurely. "I'llbe by about noon Saturday, and you can ride with me. I know you don'tdrink, and I could use somebody sober to drive me home. If I go home atall. If not, you can use the car. Sound good?" Harold had his voice under control and was actually feeling a bitbetter. Tom's nonstop talking had distracted him from the full impact ofthe crisis, and his depression was beginning to lift a bit. "Sure, why not?Should I bring anything?" "Toothbrush and a change of shorts, maybe." They talked for a few more minutes and when Harold finally hung up, hefelt immensely better. He had felt so alone not long ago. It was good to bereminded he had friends. Maybe with their help he could pull through thisdepression and come out a whole human being once again. But that was stilla ways off. In the meantime, he tidied the house up. Lastly he came to thecollection of bottles from his binge that morning. He was astonished todiscover how much of that stuff he had drunk. Thinking about it remindedhim just how awful the stuff really was. He hiccuped once and ran for thebathroom, hand over his mouth. He almost made it. 3 The week wore on and Willyville got even hotter, if such a thing waspossible. It also got weirder, and many had considered that impossible,too. During the daytime the streets were like that of a ghost town, aseverybody remained inside with shades closed to beat the heat.Air-conditioners became the number one most stolen item in the city,beating out televisions by a wide margin. It made sense of a sort, afterall, you don't even need to get inside the house to steal one. Many ahomeowner returned from work in the evening to find a large hole in thewall where the family's most cherished appliance once rested andsubsequently broke down in tears. However, the chief of police had a suddenbrainstorm that guaranteed a quick end to this new and despicable crimewave. He promptly instructed all four hospitals in the Willyville area toinform the police of any emergency room cases involving hernias or slippeddiscs. When the anxious media questoned the chief of police on this newtactic, he simply replied that the results so far were "interesting". In other news, weather forcaster Bob Katt had been suspended forappearing on his show wearing boxer shorts, a tie, and nothing else. Itseems the building's air-conditioning system had been stolen the previousnight (an impressive feat in itself, considering that the compressor aloneweighed half a ton) and Bob had refused to work in a suit in the stiflingheat. So he had walked into the studio, dressed only in his skivvies, andup in front of the camera before any of the stunned studio crew could eventhink of stopping him. Of course, it would have been very bad form to yankhim off the camera, so they simply let him do his broadcast. Once he wasfinished he was greeted by a purple faced station manager. Despite theindian pressure groups, Bob was still very popular in Willyville, so he wasnot fired on the spot. Instead, the station manager sent him on a long overdue vacation... --- Saturday dawned bright, clear, and warm (surprise, surprise!). Haroldwas up with the sun, mostly because he hadn't slept at all the previousnight. His stomach was a tight little knot and his heart would not stoppounding. He was having second thoughts about the party. Harold Sykes hadnever been a party animal, and recent... events... had convinced him thathe would be very wise to stay away from certain segments of the human race(read: female) for a long time to come. In fact, now that he thought aboutit, he was rather frightened of them. After all, if he couldn't keep Cindihappy, would he be able to keep any woman happy? And there would be lots ofgirls there, probably all laughing at him. Why go? Then he thought about his depression of the last couple weeks. Tom hada point: right or wrong, he had to do something. Tom came by at 2:30 and picked Harold up. As they drove over toSquirrel Heights, Tom did most of the talking. Harold had lapsed into amoody silence, soaking up Tom's words and saying almost something inreturn. If Tom noticed, he didn't show it as he kept up a steady monologueall the way to the house. The Squirrel Heights Boarding house was a dumpy three story affairsitting in front of about two acres of worn out farmland. The place was runby an aging ex-stockbroker named Michael Wilburn, who believed in freeexpression of everything and threw wild parties as often as the house'sbudget would allow. Some of the parties were solely for the house'sinhabitants, but most of them were for whoever wanted to come. Booze andmost kinds of drugs generally circulated freely, and Harold had heardrumors even more outrageous than that. All in all, it was prettyintimidating to an introvert like Harold, and as he stepped out of Tom'scar and looked at the peeling gray mass of the boarding house looming overhim, and the virtual sea of cars surrounding it, he knew he had made amistake. He as much as said so to Tom, who ignored him completely. The affair was already in progress, as he discovered when Tom led himaround the back of the house. There must have been almost a hundred peoplethere, engaged in all manner of outdoor activities. People everywhere,talking, yelling, running, horsing around, just generally having a goodtime. A table had been set up by the back door, and there was somebodyserving booze and food to an endlessly regenerating queue. Harold looked around and noticed that Tom had abandoned him and wasnowhere in sight. For an instant he almost panicked and yelled for Tom,then his rational mind took over. What's your problem? it said. You're anadult, you don't need a keeper. So Harold decided to walk around and see what he could see. In one corner a net had been set up for a vollyball game. There was ateam on each side, if a pushing, laughing, staggering group of people couldbe called a team. Harold stood off to one side with a small group ofspectators and watched. All of a sudden his attention had been captured byone particular member of one team. She wasn't tall, maybe five seven or so, buxom, and maybe a few poundsoverweight. Which, as far as Harold was concerned, made her all the morenicely rounded. Her hair was blonde and fell down past her shoulders. Herface was pretty, but not spectacularly so. What had really caught Harold'sattention was what she was wearing, or, more to the point, not wearing. Shewas dressed in frayed cutoff jeans that were so tight they had split alongthe sides halfway up her hips, and a string bikini top that struggledvaliantly to hold up under the weight of enormous breasts. Harold glancedaround and saw that she had the attention of pretty much every man in thecrowd. His heart fluttered as he watched her move, and he couldn't help butwonder what it would be like to take her to bed. He imagined her long hairspread out over the pillow, glimmering faintly in the moonlight, thosemagnificent breasts moving in slow liquid motion as she arched her back insheer pleasure, her frenzied gasps as she reached a sudden and powerfulorgasm... Harold shook his head to clear it. Get real, he told himself. Someonelike that certainly already has a boyfriend, and even if she didn't, whyshould she be interested in somebody like him? He turned around and beganto make his way back towards the house. Sudden catcalls and whistles made him turn around again. She wassitting on the grass, apparently having just fallen. When she landed, theoverburdened top string of her bikini had given way, exposing her for allthe world to see. He could not help but stare. Her nipples stood out hard, the auriolescolored light rose pink. He ached to take them in his mouth, to feel theirsoft but firm weight in his hands. Then he looked up and saw she wasstaring directly at him. He locked eyes with her and suddenly his face turned beet red. Why, hedidn't know, because surely every other male here was staring and thinkingthe same thoughts. She made no move to cover herself, she just sat there,challenging him with her gaze. Finally, Harold turned and pushed his way through the crowd. His heartwas pounding in his ears and his balls, denied their release, achedmiserably. He still had a raging hard-on and kept his hands in his pocketsto conceal it. He felt sick, and ashamed. And he wanted to leave thisinstant. But that stare kept coming back to him. On reflection, he felt therewas more than just a challenge in her eyes. What, he didn't know, but hesomehow knew it. It was almost as if a spark had passed between them.Undoubtedly it was just his overworked imagination, but... He felt as if she wanted him, too. 4 Day gave way to night, as days usually do, and slowly Willyville beganto cool off. People moved out of their stifling houses (except for thosewho hadn't had their air-conditioning stolen yet) and into their backyards. They brought TV trays, TV's, barbecues, bedrolls, and just generallyprepared to enjoy the night in relative coolness. All over Willyville the night was alive with the sound of voices,televisions, stereos, lustful moans and the other noises of humans enjoyingthemselves outdoors. With one exception. In Squirrel Heights, all wasquiet. The place seemed deserted, in fact. Virtually all human life in thearea had gravitated to one spot. At the Squirrel Heights boarding house,when night fell, the real party began... --- Harold Sykes hadn't left the party like he planned, although he cameawful damn close to doing so when he spotted Cindi in the crowd. But, inthe end, the thought of going back to his lonely, empty, stuffy house wasjust too much. So instead he wandered around the yard, just watching theextraordinary panorama of human activity taking place before him. Eventually he found a peaceful spot on the back porch where he justsat and watched the sun set. Tom came by and asked him how he was doing. "Better." sighed Harold, "I really feel better." Tom gave him a wink. "You may be feeling better than that before thenight's over, old buddy." and sauntered off before Harold could sayanything. Now what was that supposed to mean? As it got dark, the party outside thinned out. A few left, spinningtheir wheels in the gravel lot out front, but most just went inside thehouse. Probably gonna booze it up good, Harold thought, Although it lookedto him like they had been boozing more than adequetely already. Harolddidn't feel like drinking very much, especially after his binge the otherday. Drugs didn't hold much of an attraction for him, either. Just sittingthere, alone with his thoughts, seemed to do quite a bit for him. Eventually he awoke from his musings and was startled to find he wasalone. With a sigh he got up and went in through the back door. The back hallway was unlit. There was the low murmur of voices andmusic coming from somewhere ahead. He could make out dim light from arounda corner in the distance. Cautiously he made his way down the hallway,hoping nothing solid was in the way of his shins. Eventually he made his way to the light, and when he turned the cornerhe recieved the shock of his life. The front room was spacious and poorly lit. But the light was morethan adequete for Harold to see what was going on. There was about twentyto thirty people sprawled about the room, all naked, contorted in everykind of sexual position imaginable. And a couple that weren't imaginable. Harold could only stare dumbly. The floor was almost lost amongst themoving, writhing bodies. There were six people on the couch, in somebizarre group contortion that made them look like something from anotherplanet. One man sat moaning softly in an easy chair with a hard-on thatHarold would have sworn was twelve inches long, at least. He watched intotal amazement as all twelve inches dissappeared into the mouth of theco-ed sitting on the floor between the man's feet. The blonde he had seen earlier was conspicuously absent. He heard creaking above him, and he looked up. In the rafters, sometwelve feet above, a rope and pully setup had been arranged with a largewicker basket. Three people were in the basket, which swung back and forthalarmingly. Harold quickly moved several feet over, out from under thesetup. His head was spinning. His experience with sex had always beenlimited, and now he was confronted with a full-fledged orgy. It was toomuch. He didn't want any part of this. All he wanted was out. Watching his step carefully, he made his way for the nearest door. Hewas almost there when he saw the one thing he *knew* he didn't want tosee. There was a clear spot at the far end of the room. Only two peoplewere there, a man flat on his back with a woman sitting astride his hips,moving up and down in sensuous rhythem. He didn't know who the guy was buthe knew the girl. Cindi. Pain that had been mercifully submerged now roseto stab arrowlike into his guts. Cindi turned her head at that instant andtheir eyes met. Instant recognition and something spiteful and unpleasantglittered in her eyes for a brief second, and then she turned her attentionback to what she was doing. Her movements became more frantic, and hermoans much louder, exaggerating as much as possible. Her parting words rang in his mind: "I want a man, dammit!" Well,fine. All Harold wanted was out. He averted his eyes and ran blindlytowards the closest exit. He stumbled over one couple on the way (startlingthem into a premature orgasm) and mumbled apologies as he kept going. Then he was in a hallway, but not the one he had come from. Doorslined the hall on both sides. He grabbed one and pulled it open, only to berewarded with several outraged yells. Redfaced and near tears fromembarassment, he pulled the door shut and looked around desperately. Andempty room, anything, just so he could get out of sight and get histhoughts together. If he didn't do it quick, he feared he might lost hismind. He had to get away, somehow! There, at the end of the hall. An open door, the room dark within. Hepaused at the doorway for a second, but could detect no movement within.Empty, thank God! He slammed the door shut behind him and let the blacknessenvelop him as he sank to the floor with a hoarse sob. He lay in a heap forwho knew how long before he finally calmed down. His heart gave a sudden leap as he somehow realized, in the totaldarkness, that that the room wasn't empty after all. After a long moment,he finally summoned up a weak voice. "Who's there?" There was a longer silence, and he almost began to hope he was aloneafter all, when a soft voice answered "Are you all right?" Fuck NO! I ain't all right, you stupid... But Harold controlledhimself before replying, "I will be, eventually. In about fifty years orso." He hesitated before the next question, "Are you, um, alone?" "Yeah." she replied, "I just wanted to be by myself. I kinda outgrewthe scene out front a long time ago. All the interesting guys already havesomebody. There was one guy, but I think he went home or something." Harold got up, a little unsteadily "I'm sorry. Sorry I barged in onyou. I'll leave now." "Please, don't." she said, "Unless you really need to. I think wecould both use someone to talk to." Harold sat back down against the wall with a weary sigh. "Sure, whynot?" After a silent moment, he continued, "Would you mind turning on alight? I'd like to see who I'm talking to." "Well," she began doubtfully, "you may feel more comfortable withoutthe light, but if you insist..." There was a click and a flare of lightexploded into his eyes, blinding him momentarily. When he could open hiseyes, he recieved the last shock of a very long day. Standing by a lamp on the dresser was the blonde from the vollyballgame, still dressed in the frayed shorts but minus the bikini top, whichlay discarded on the bed. She had her eyes screwed shut against the light,opening them a moment later. "Oh! It's you!"
--ÿ