Mary couldn’t help herself. As Bill fondled her on top and Bea fondled her below, she found herself on new and uncontrollable ground. Within a moment of it being this way, despite her mind raging against it, she closed her eyes in response to Bill’s kisses and touches. Bill could hear tender moans escaping from her.
Bea was also on new ground. She kept on, felt Mary’s panties dampen and herself begin being roused. In the midst of it, without her pushing for it, Bill slipped his hand into her panties and began with her. She made it easy for him to do what he wanted to do and started pressing against him.
“Tommy,” said Mary. “What about Tommy?”
“The hell with Tommy,” Bea said.
Somewhere deep inside him Bill knew that even if Tommy walked up on them while they were there in the hall he would have no course of action other than to turn around and head back upstairs and not acknowledge that he had seen anything. This was the bulk of his kitchen crew right here, down here, doing what they should not be doing, certainly at work.
Unbeknownst to them, Tommy was busy upstairs. He had opened the office and then come into the kitchen to grab himself a cup of coffee, which he had done quickly, surmising that since no one was in the kitchen they were downstairs changing and getting things from the storeroom for what they needed for the day’s work.
In one sense, that was exactly what was happening. On a cold, snowy February morning, Mary, Bea and Bill were all in one way or another getting exactly what they needed to start the day. It had happened kind of accidentally, and there had been objections, but the objections were overruled by the physical desires that were stimulated regardless of the circumstances.
Then they were dressed and on their way upstairs. Bea was a happy camper. She had pleased Mary and been pleased herself. Mr. Bea was not doing his job so Mrs. Bea was making sure that his job got done even if it wasn’t by him. Mary was perplexed. She couldn’t understand how Bea’s fingers could have felt so good. But then all the while that was happening she was kissing Bill and Bill was whispering things to her she definitely wanted to hear. That it was Bea’s fingers working on her somehow didn’t seem to matter anymore.
So they were postured like always. Bea sat on her stool and read the racing page from the newspaper. She sipped coffee from her mug and smoked a cigarette. Bill and Mary stood by her, each drinking coffee, Bill smoking a cigarette too. He was feeling tired and getting ready to pop another black beauty then maybe smoke a joint. He still had to go back downstairs to get the steamship round. While he was down there, he thought, he would take a good stiff drink of bourbon. Another day!
Later there was Marie to reckon with. He still had most of the day until that happened. Still, thinking about it, something had to be said, something had to be done. Marie was a wildcard and a wild one at that. No telling how she would be coming in or what she would say, this despite the fact that they had agreed to keep it to themselves on the down-low. Throughout both steakhouses, however, nothing much seemed to stay on the down low.
While Bea read the racing page, she asked if either of them wanted to play numbers. Bill played his regular number, 854, and he played Mary’s number too, 479. She asked if he wanted to make any bets on the races but Bill was not really into that. When Henry Lee came in, he would play numbers and probably make some bets too.
