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Authors: Jayde Blumenthal
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transforming into the perfect gentleman, considerate and thoughtful of his wife’s every needs.
N ow? Now, all he could think of was convincing her to suck on his cock.
He’d always thought he would never ask a nice Jewish girl to do that . You had to draw the line somewhere. Yet something he thought he’d seen in Raizy… well, maybe he was just imagining it.
Maybe that wasn’t the line after all. He thought of her bright-red lipsticked mouth in the yichud room… pressing against him not just on his lips, but everywhere, all over his body.
Would he ever have the courage to ask her? Too bad, because what he really wanted was to take hold of the back of her head and thrust himself into her warm, wet mouth.
Why was he such a pervert? Why couldn’t he just be co ntent? Here he was, they had only had sex once and already he was dissatisfied at the thought of doing it the regular way?
The phone rang. Beryl snatched it up, turned it on.
“Hello?”
“Hello, may I speak to Mr… Beryl?”
“Speaking.”
“This is Gary Edelman, from Edelman’s Bookstore. You came for an interview with Meryl last week?”
“Yes, I did.” Beryl’s heart began to race.
“She spoke very highly of you.”
“Thank you.”
“But there was something we weren’t sure about.”
“What is it?”
“She mentioned that you are… Orthodox.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Well, I don’t know if you realized it, but our store… well, it caters to a diverse clientele. We sell Jewish books, but we ourselves are not observant. We carry books of other faiths as well. And we believe in tolerance for Jews of all kinds.”
“I see,” said Beryl. Like Jews who wore purple hippie blouses down to their nipples. Would he stand out there too much with his black coat and peyos ?
“We would like to make sure you would be comfortable working in our environment.”
“It’s not a problem,” said Beryl. He hoped there was no hesitation in his voice. He wanted this job, he realized, more than almost anything he’d wanted in his life.
“We have men and women working here. Men and women who come in as customers.” Mr. Edelman was spelling it out, as if he was in kindergarten. Obviously, he wasn’t convinced. “The men don’t all wear kippahs. The women don’t all wear skirts.”
“I see,” said Beryl. Something else was needed here. How could he reassure him?
“Listen, Mr. Edelman,” he began, as politely as he could. “I had a chance to look around the store, browse through the books and magazines. I love it. I really do. I admit, my bac kground is a bit different. But since you say you’re interested in tolerance, I’d like to ask you to accept me, even if my background is a little bit – different.”
“I can see why Meryl was impressed,” said Mr. Edelman. “And you’re right. I can tell you’re a different sort of young man.”
“Thank you,” said Beryl, even if he wasn’t entirely sure that was intended as a compliment.
“Could you start…” he heard Mr. Edelman flipping through pages at the other end. “At ten?”
“Tomorrow?” Beryl asked.
“Right, tomorrow.”
“Absolutely. Thank you so much, sir.” Oy. Too much groveling. Yet he really was that grateful.
“See you tomorrow.”
“I really appreciate this opportunity.” He slapped his forehead as he put the phone down. Okay, starting tomorrow, no more groveling. He was a man. He had a wife… and he had a job.
And eventually, the rosh yeshiva would notice Beryl wasn’t showing up anymore. No, no, no. That was not the way a man did things.
He picked up the phone again. Made the call he thought he’d never make.
“I’ve decided to take a job.”
There was an intake of breath. A patient sigh. And then, the sound of resignation in the rosh yeshiva’s voice. “I think this is a good choice for you, Beryl.”
Really? That was it? No
N ow? Now, all he could think of was convincing her to suck on his cock.
He’d always thought he would never ask a nice Jewish girl to do that . You had to draw the line somewhere. Yet something he thought he’d seen in Raizy… well, maybe he was just imagining it.
Maybe that wasn’t the line after all. He thought of her bright-red lipsticked mouth in the yichud room… pressing against him not just on his lips, but everywhere, all over his body.
Would he ever have the courage to ask her? Too bad, because what he really wanted was to take hold of the back of her head and thrust himself into her warm, wet mouth.
Why was he such a pervert? Why couldn’t he just be co ntent? Here he was, they had only had sex once and already he was dissatisfied at the thought of doing it the regular way?
The phone rang. Beryl snatched it up, turned it on.
“Hello?”
“Hello, may I speak to Mr… Beryl?”
“Speaking.”
“This is Gary Edelman, from Edelman’s Bookstore. You came for an interview with Meryl last week?”
“Yes, I did.” Beryl’s heart began to race.
“She spoke very highly of you.”
“Thank you.”
“But there was something we weren’t sure about.”
“What is it?”
“She mentioned that you are… Orthodox.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Well, I don’t know if you realized it, but our store… well, it caters to a diverse clientele. We sell Jewish books, but we ourselves are not observant. We carry books of other faiths as well. And we believe in tolerance for Jews of all kinds.”
“I see,” said Beryl. Like Jews who wore purple hippie blouses down to their nipples. Would he stand out there too much with his black coat and peyos ?
“We would like to make sure you would be comfortable working in our environment.”
“It’s not a problem,” said Beryl. He hoped there was no hesitation in his voice. He wanted this job, he realized, more than almost anything he’d wanted in his life.
“We have men and women working here. Men and women who come in as customers.” Mr. Edelman was spelling it out, as if he was in kindergarten. Obviously, he wasn’t convinced. “The men don’t all wear kippahs. The women don’t all wear skirts.”
“I see,” said Beryl. Something else was needed here. How could he reassure him?
“Listen, Mr. Edelman,” he began, as politely as he could. “I had a chance to look around the store, browse through the books and magazines. I love it. I really do. I admit, my bac kground is a bit different. But since you say you’re interested in tolerance, I’d like to ask you to accept me, even if my background is a little bit – different.”
“I can see why Meryl was impressed,” said Mr. Edelman. “And you’re right. I can tell you’re a different sort of young man.”
“Thank you,” said Beryl, even if he wasn’t entirely sure that was intended as a compliment.
“Could you start…” he heard Mr. Edelman flipping through pages at the other end. “At ten?”
“Tomorrow?” Beryl asked.
“Right, tomorrow.”
“Absolutely. Thank you so much, sir.” Oy. Too much groveling. Yet he really was that grateful.
“See you tomorrow.”
“I really appreciate this opportunity.” He slapped his forehead as he put the phone down. Okay, starting tomorrow, no more groveling. He was a man. He had a wife… and he had a job.
And eventually, the rosh yeshiva would notice Beryl wasn’t showing up anymore. No, no, no. That was not the way a man did things.
He picked up the phone again. Made the call he thought he’d never make.
“I’ve decided to take a job.”
There was an intake of breath. A patient sigh. And then, the sound of resignation in the rosh yeshiva’s voice. “I think this is a good choice for you, Beryl.”
Really? That was it? No
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