The doorbell rang at a most inopportune moment for Jeff Bardell, Jr. He had crept up behind his Mexican maid, Lupita, and had just reached out swiftly and lifted her skirt to reveal a voluptuous, pink-clad bottom. She gasped, of course, and leaped as if she had been goosed. And the chimes sounded in the entry hall. "Meester Bardell!" she exclaimed, facing him and smoothing down her simple black skirt as color suffused her cheeks.
He smiled disarmingly. "Just.a little joke," he said. "Go on with your work."
"You want for me to answer the door?" she asked.
"No. Never mind. Ill get it." He would have had her on the sofa before she knew what was happening, he thought. Now she was forewarned and, if she wasn't the sort who cared to play games with an employer, he might have a difficult time getting to her.
As he walked to the door, he mentally cursed the damned fool who was waiting there. He flung the door open. "Mister Bardell?" "Yes."
"Sign here. Special delivery." Jeff signed, took the letter, and returned to the sunken living room. The letter was from his father's law firm in Cannon Oaks. More foolishness, he assumed, and placed it unopened on a chair. There were always papers to be signed in connection with his allowance or trust funds. They were an abysmal bore, but he supposed they were necessary in order to keep the money coming.
Lupita had proceeded with her dusting into the den, which was connected to the living room by a folding door at one side of the fireplace. The outer wall of the living room, den, and master bedroom beyond was made entirely of glass, and it overlooked the hillside that tumbled down to Sunset Boulevard and some twenty-five square miles of Los Angeles below that.
Jeff moved quietly to the den doorway, a sly smile lighting his lean, almost bony face. He was not handsome, but neither was he repulsive-looking. His height was average, his build wiry, his hair sandy-colored and growing sparse although he was only twenty-nine, and his eyes were Arctic blue. He had a prominent, but not-quite-classical nose.
He stood there for a moment, watching the girl as she dusted the low-slung furniture and the telescope mounted in front of the glass wall on a tripod. She was unaware of his presence, but he doubted if he could sneak up on her so effectively this time.
Lupita was an immigrant from Sonora. Jeff's wife, Sophia, had arranged for her through an agency where she had signed a paper guaranteeing employment. This was necessary in order for the Mexican girl to gain permission to live in the United States. Sophia had stipulated that she wanted someone young and attractive. Lupita filled the bill nicely.
She had black hair, of course, and it was moderately long. Caught by a ribbon over the crown of her head, it cascaded over her back like a waterfall. Her skin coloring was light. She had high cheekbones and enormous dark eyes. And her mouth hinted at suppressed sensuality.
In the day and a half she had worked for the Bardells, Jeff had not had the opportunity to learn much about her figure. It was evident she had lots of bosom, since the front of her uniform dress billowed outward, but the dress was bulky and, anyway, a man couldn't tell about a girl's breasts until he had seen them in the nude. Brassieres could perform amazing magic. In addition to turning molehills into mountains, they could make fallen breasts look like rocket nose cones. A man had to see them unadorned and unsupported to know how good they really were.
Her legs were sleek and trim from the knees down. Just a little while ago, he had glimpsed the rest of those legs-where they flared into delicious fullness as they rose to join her crotch. And what he had seen of her pantied crotch had been very stimulating also.
He intended to see the rest of her now-if that were possible short of rape. He drew a line against using force with women. That was stupid-not only for a man in his position, for any man at all. There was too much to be gained by persuasion and chicanery for violence ever to be justified.
As he moved up to her, she heard him and quickly straightened, turning around. He wasn't sure if her dark eyes were registering fear or curiosity or excitement.
"The dusting can stop for a while, Lupita."
"But Meesus Bardell said ..."
"Forget what Mrs. Bardell said. You're working for both Mrs. Bardell and me aren't you?"
"Si. I mean, yes, sir."
"So if I tell you not to dust, you'll stop dusting, won't you?"
"Yes."
"And if I tell you to do something else-anything at all-you'll do it. Right?"
"Anytheeng, Meester Bardell?"
"Well, let's say anything that won't hurt you. Naturally, you want to please Mrs. Bardell and myself so that you won't have to go back to Mexico. Isn't that correct?"
"Oh, yes. I want to stay in United States."
"Good." He smiled broadly. "Then I'll tell you what I want you to do, Lupita. I want you to undress for me."
"But thees ees your dress. You geeve it to me to wear."
He chuckled. "You don't understand. I want you to take the dress off."
Her mouth formed a pretty pink circle as she said, "Oh. All right. I put on other uniform." She put down her dusting cloth and headed toward her room at the back of the apartment.
He took a couple of quick steps and grasped her by the arm. He turned her to face him.
"You still don't understand, darling," he said. "I want you to take off the dress here, right now, and I don't want you to put another dress on. I want you with no dress on. No dress at all."
"No dress?" She was shocked.
"No dress. And, as long as we're being specific, no slip . . . no stockings ... no brassiere . . . and no panties."
"You want for me to take off my . . . how you say eet? Pahnteez?"
"'Your panties."
Color came quickly to her cheeks and she straightened up, thrusting her bounteous bosom forward. "Oh, no! Lupita no take off pahnteez!"
He studied her objectively, as a scientist might study a problem in physics. She seemed adamant. But he had learned from long experience that a girl's initial reaction furnished no clue to her true attitude toward sex. Girls reacted first out of superficial considerations. A man's problem was simply to break through the superficiality, to probe deeper, to reach the girl in a way that would cause her to react from her innermost nature. Sometimes this way was physical-to bowl the girl over, as he had first intended to do with Lupita. Sometimes a more subtle approach was called for.
In the case at hand, he didn't feel that subtlety or even physical exertion ought to be necessary, since the girl worked for him and was in danger of being deported if he found her work unsatisfactory. Still, he didn't want to take her as an unwilling participant. He would find little pleasure in that.
"Darling," he said. "I'm hurt that you don't trust me. You think I have something bad in mind. I don't. I just want to look at you."
"Just look?"
He smiled. "That's all. I like all beautiful things-trees, flowers, sunsets, lovely women. I like to look at them."
She hesitated, her face still pink and her eyes shining. Then she repeated, "Lupita no take off pahnteez."
"All right." He opened his hands in a gesture of acquiescence. "You won't take off your panties. Just take off your dress and slip. That's fair enough, isn't it?"
She narrowed her eyes slightly. "I don't theenk thees ess right theeng to do."
He laughed. "Lupita, you're charming, but you don't understand the customs of our country. Here it isn't a sin for a girl to show herself. Look at the beaches, the magazines, the shows, even the Broadway stage."
"We have those kind of girls in Mexico, too, senor. But they are not decent."
"You know," he said, regarding her with amusement, "I'm going to show you just how wrong your attitude is. I'm going to sit over here in this chair." (He retreated to the chair and sat.) "And you're going to take off your dress and slip. I'm going to look at you and I'm not going to make a move. That will prove to you that there's nothing bad about it."
She thought only briefly before she said, "No. Lupita no take off dress and sleep."
He sighed. "Very well. If you will not please me, you will not."
"I work," she said. "I work good. I clean. I feex meals. I do good job, no?"
"Those things are all very well, but if you don't really want to please me ..."
"You will not sent me back to Mexico, senor. Please."
"If you don't like the customs of our country, I don't see why you want to stay here."
"I like good job, nice money, nice place to leeve."
"But you don't want to show your beautiful body. Tsk-tsk. Such a pity."
She walked up to him. "You are going to send me back?"
"I don't want to, Lupita. Please believe me."
"Oh, senor! I don't know what I should do."
She obviously was going through great torment. So was Jeff. Seeing her in the nude, and possessing her if he liked what he saw, had suddenly become the most important thing in the world to him.
But he maintained a studiously casual attitude.
"I'm afraid I'll have to call the agency," he said. He shook his head and repeated, "Such a pity."
Lupita shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She blinked her large "yes. Her lips twisted. Her face grew more pink.
Finally she said, "Okay! I take off dress. Only dress."
"No. Your slip, also. You must take off your dress and slip."
"Senor!"
"Your dress and your slip, Lupita. I won't be satisfied with less."
She was breathing more rapidly, the huge mounds of breast-flesh in her dress bodice rising and falling.
He knew he had her. In agreeing to remove her dress, she had crossed the Rubicon.
She sighed. "Very well, senor. Ay! My papa would say I am aputa."
"You are not aputa. You are a sweet and lovely girl. I have all the respect in the world for you. Now, take off your dress and slip."
She hesitated for a final moment, her cheeks flaming, and then she reached around to her back and began lowering her zipper. Jeff watched with satisfaction.
Her dress had to be untied at the waist, and she took care of that. When her zipper was all the way down, she bent forward, lifted the dress, and brought it up her body and over her head. She placed it over the back of a chair and shook her hair into place. The shaking caused the exposed creamy flesh above her bra cups to quiver. Her bra and plain slip were pink.
"Very nice, darling. Very nice, indeed." He waited for the further, more enticing revelation.
Lupita hooked her thumbs around the waist elastic of her slip and drew the slip down, bending forward to carry it past her thighs and knees.
Jeff didn't know which was more appealing-the divided waterfall of flesh, restrained and concealed at its base by the cups of her bra, the sudden appearance of her pubic mound encased in snug-fitting pink bikini panties, or the creaminess of full upper thighs between the panties and the tightly cinched tops of her stockings. The stockings were dark, and this combined with the pink of her panties and the white of her garter straps to create added interest.
She stepped out of the slip and straightened up. Her face was now almost tomato-red.
Jeff riveted his gaze at the sleek V formed by the elastic legbands of her panties. The pink fabric was opaque but not shadow-proof. Jeff's cock began to throb.
"Turn around, dear," he told her. "I want to see the other side of you."
"You weel stay in the chair?"
"Yes, I'll stay in the chair. I promised, didn't I?"
Lupita didn't seem very sure of him, but she complied, turning until she faced the glass wall. He let his eyes sweep from her shoulders, where her black hair tumbled, down to her pink-blad bottom which was generous yet exquisitely curved to the bare backs of her thighs, to the shining dark tops of her stockings.
"Delightful," he murmured.
His cock was not responding so mildly. It was leaking its appreciation of what he saw, and his slim slacks had become uncomfortable for him.
He decided now was the time to become physical. The fact that she had removed her dress and slip proved to him that she would not resist seriously. And so, with utter disregard for his promise, he vaulted out of his chair and closed the distance between them.
Lupita heard him and started to turn around, but Jeff's hands were already sliding forward beneath her armpits. They grasped the cupped bulges of her breasts and squeezed as she wriggled.
"Meester Bardell!" she exclaimed, looking at him over her shoulder in fright while the lightly clad hemispheres of her buttocks brushed and twisted against his massive hard-on.
They felt very good to him. They felt so good that the goad he had against them grew to more formidable proportions, causing him pain due to the trouser-constriction.
He bent his head quickly and captured her parted lips. Holding her close to him by pulling against her breasts, he kissed her lustfully, using his tongue. She smelled good and she felt wonderful; now as she suddenly stopped struggling and whimpered in her throat, her mouth opened all the way under the pressure of his, and her tongue began to slide against his own.
When the mutual kiss ended, her eyes remained closed. Her swollen lips gleamed juicily. She kept them parted and she was panting, her breath warm and sweet.
He ran his right hand inside one of the bulging cups of her brassiere and thrilled to the hardness of her nipple. Rubbing his hand in a circle inside the left cup, he used his other hand to release the bra. It was a three-hooker, and as the last hook gave, her breasts surged forward, expanding into his palm. He quickly slipped his hand under the cup and grasped a full, satin-skinned melon with a prodigious stem. The stem burrowed against him.
He squeezed and she panted, "Ay, querido! Mas! Por favor, mas!
He didn't have to speak Spanish to grasp her meaning. He pushed up the other limp bra-cup and took her right breast in his left hand. He squeezed both breasts, applying just enough pressure. They were pliant at the surface, but very firm underneath.
It had been some time since Jeff had held such a magnificent pair, and now he had to see them. He pulled the bra away from her, which left them standing unobstructed, their plump, red-brown nipples canting out and upward. The nipples were a quarter of an inch in diameter and at least half an inch long. The circles around them must have measured two inches across. They were rough and provocatively puckered.
His mouth swooped and captured one turgid tit as he squeezed and jiggled the other breast in his hand. Lupita continued to jabber in Spanish, her head thrust back to arch her breasts as high as possible.
A white-hot thrill went through Jeff as he felt her hand fumbling for his cock. She clutched the distention of his trousers.
"The zipper," he said at her ear. "Get the zipper."
She felt for the tab, found it, and drew the zipper down slowly.
His boxer-style shorts presented no problem. Now she was caressing his rod, her hand moving avidly up and down the sex-slick length of it.
He took only a few moments of that before he swept her up in his arms and carried her through the doorway into the master bedroom, her naked breasts rolling and quivering atop her rib cage. He dropped her not too gently in the center of the king-sized bed and stepped back to remove his clothes.
She twisted and spread her legs, her pantied buttocks sliding against the bedspread. The narrow crotch of her panties did a poor job of concealment and as he stared at the black little pussy hairs peeking out at him, he couldn't disrobe fast enough.
When he was finally ready, he went to her and peeled her panties down, throwing them over the foot of the bed.
A sliding caress of his lips down over her rounded belly terminated at the little crease of her pussy. He placed his other hand under her knee and lifted her leg to his kiss. The inner slope of her thigh was hot and fragrant with musky, womanly scent. He licked it and captured as much flesh as he could hold between his lips.
She was crying and panting and pulling at his head. It was plain where she wanted him to go. He didn't accommodate her, however. He skipped to her other thigh instead. He held that leg up in the air and kissed the entire portion of it above her stocking top while his fingertips slipped easily into her vagina.
Judging by the way she had acted and talked when he first began going after her, she would have been a virgin. He didn't think so, but it was possible. He wanted to find out, so he thrust two fingers in all the way.
She squealed and thrust her pelvis at him, bucking and rotating. Virgin she was not. At least one Mexican boy had been there.
And now it was his turn. He pulled the moist lips of her pussy apart and gazed at the delectable flesh revealed to him. Her vagina winked at him, groping for the cock that was not there yet and her little clitoris peeked out from its hood, growing under his stare. Meanwhile, Lupita was churning more fiercely than ever.
"Ooo, Jeff! Kiss me-kiss me there, pleeze! Oh, I can't stand eet!"
Jeff grinned. "Kiss you where, Lupita?" he taunted.
"Ooo, you bad man, you make me say all those nasty theengs! And I can't stand eet much more. My poossy! Eat me poossy!"
Chuckling with self-satisfaction, Jeff dipped down to her oozing slot; his large tongue slithered into her labia.
Instantly, Lupita's legs gripped his head in a deadlock vise as moans and unheard-of Spanish words tumbled from her lips.
Jeff found her cunt suitable to his taste-in fact, not quite as pungent as most women, and a little on the sweet side. He formed a suction over her clit with his lips and began drawing her deeper and deeper into his mouth, and at the same time, his tongue whipped the little bud with a frenzy. The result was instant climax, a torrent of Spanish, a few wild gyrations, and then a suddenly limp body.
He decided he'd better get his cock in fast before she lost interest-but he had nothing to worry about.
"Ooo, lover, fuck me! Fuck me so hard! Hurry!" She was saying it in English this time.
He lost no time in falling upon her, and his cock slipped easily inside. For an instant Jeff feared he would come right away-she was so hot, and her infernal cunt muscles were squeezing the life out of him-and neither of them had even moved yet.
"Jesus, Lupita! You're making me crazy!"
But all she said was, "It feel so goood! You have such a nice cock . . . nice cock . . . nice ..."
He took a deep breath-which was difficult as his face was well smothered in her billowy breasts-and with determination, began to thrust slowly in and out.
"No, no, you must do eet faster, more faster!" Lupita wailed. She began to thrust her pussy up at him wildly, at a mad pace he could scarcely keep up with.
Not to be outdone, he gave her a rapid series of jackrabbit strokes and decided to go whole hog. He grabbed her tits in his hands and mashed them together while he slammed his mouth down on hers and drove his tongue deep into her throat, jabbing in and out with the same rhythm his cock jabbed in and out of her twat. He felt her body quivering, readying for the big one, and knew it was useless to prolong this any further. He jammed his shaft in to the hilt and felt her walls closing around him-and then he gushed . . . and gushed . . . and gushed . . . until there was nothing left to gush. As the last trickles of jism oozed from his rapidly deflating prick, Jeff realized Lupita was still coming, so for good measure he gave her a few more pumps, then pulled out exhausted.
He lapsed with a blissful sigh as she rubbed her hands all over his head and cheeks and told him in Spanish what a wonderful lover he was. He didn't understand the words, of course, but the meaning was made clear by her tone and by the little happy moans that were still emitting from her.
Gradually her legs fell away and he rolled free, coming to rest on his back.
"Oh, Meester Bardell!" she breathed. "That was so esplendidol"
"Damned right!" he growled, realizing his powers of recovery were quicker than he had thought as his limp erection was miraculously beginning to show renewed signs of life. He leaned over and pulled one of her big breasts to his lips.
He spent a long time enjoying her nipples, and as he did, she gave him a hand-job until he had a roaring hard-on ready to explode in the palm of her delicate-but talented-little hands. He rolled her onto her belly so he could enjoy her ass for a while.
He caressed it and squeezed it and patted it and separated her asscheeks so he could see her little brown anus puckering up at him.
She squirmed at this, and he wondered if she'd ever been ass-fucked. Well, there was only one way to find out. Before she could figure out what was happening, he slid his body up her back and poked at her rosebud with the head of his cock.
"Mmmm ..." he heard her gurgle excitedly.
Encouraged, he wiped spit over the crown and then began to force his erection in. He gained entrance a little at a time, pushing in and then pulling out, and pushing in a little farther on the next round. When he was halfway there, and no protests were forthcoming from Lupita, he could stand it no longer. With one lunge he buried his now fully erected cock into her spongy asshole.
Lupita gave a soft cry and Jeff held his position until he felt her buttocks thrusting into him, urging him on. He reached around and grabbed a handful of her tits, squeezing them roughly, and then began to thrust in and out. Looking down, he saw his cock was streaked with shit, which allowed him enough lubrication to glide smoothly into her, and this excited him all the more.
Lupita was pulling on her own nipples between his fingers, and gyrating against him wildly. "Steeck your feengers een in my poossy!" she begged. "Please, Meester Bardell ..."
Jeff took her suggestion and shoved as many fingers as possible into her sloppy wet vagina, jerking them in and out as if they were a dildo. He felt her premature climax as the walls of her cunt rippled down the length of his fingers, and at the same time he felt her bending and grabbing his balls in one hand. The harder she climaxed, the harder she squeezed his nuts. And then he, too, was unexpectedly spurting his seed deep into her butt, and they finished together, somehow with him ending up on top of her.
She flattened on the bed-or became as flat as was possible for a girl with such abundant rear dimensions-and he lay atop her for several minutes. She didn't complain about his hundred and sixty pounds.
After they finally got up, he asked, "Why did you play so hard to get when you wanted it as much as I did all the time?"
"Hard to get?" she repeated inquiringly. Her voice was soft and her face was pleasantly flushed. She seemed very happy.
"You know. Why did you refuse me?"
"I refuse because I am not puta."
"But you gave in as soon as I touched you."
"I cannot help myself then. I am woman, no?"
"You are woman, yes!"
She moved up to him and her huge breasts kissed the front of his chest. "I want you very much, but I cannot say that. I know no man in United States. I ... how you say? Suffer."
"You won't have to suffer any more, sweetheart," he replied as he caressed her bare buttocks.
"And you no send me back to Mexico?"
He chuckled. "Don't worry about that." He smacked her smartly on the behind. "Now go get fixed up and let's finish that dusting, no? This place is a mess."
"Si, si," she said, laughing as she quickly gathered her clothes.
He watched her buttocks twist delightfully as she went into the bathroom. He turned and strode nude to the living room, deciding he might as well have a look at the letter.
Chapter 2
He dropped into a chair and let the single sheet of paper flutter to the rug.
He thought, what a hell of a way for a man to find out his father is dying!
Jeff was still seated there, nude, when his wife, Sophia, arrived home from her shopping tour, ten minutes later. She was a slim woman of twenty-six, artificially red-haired. They had been married for five years; they did not love one another, but there was a remarkable amount of understanding and compatibility between them.
"Well!" she exclaimed. "What's this for?"
"Oh," he said casually, "I just fucked Lupita."
"Congratulations. So what else is new?"
"Sophia . . . Dad's dying."
"Dying?"
He pointed to the letter on the floor. "I had to find out about it from his lawyers."
She studied him. "Well, I guess it's a jolt, whether a person cares for his father or not."
"Nonsense. The old bugger's dying would give me a sense of relief, except for what it means to us."
"I don't understand."
"Read the fucking letter," he said.
She squatted, poking stockinged knees several inches out from the hem of her skirt, and picked the letter up. She read:
Dear Mr.Bardell:
Your father has asked us to inform you of his recent stroke and near-total incapacity. His doctors are of the opinion, in view of a steady deterioration of vital signs, that his illlness is terminal. This being the case, he wishes you to come to Cannon Oaks immediately to assume control of the Bardell Paper Company.
Please advise us, as soon as possible following your receipt of this letter, when we may expect you.
Sincerely,
Bunyan and Hall,
Attorneys at Law
by Gus Bunyan.
Sophia looked up at him and said, "I can't believe it."
"That Dad's dying? Well, the old boy's in his middle-sixties. Anything can happen when you reach that age."
"No. I can't believe that you would be notified this way."
"That surprised me, too," Jeff admitted. "But Dad and I haven't spoken for the last couple of years. The lawyers have handled everything. So he left this up to them to handle, too."
She looked at the letter and reread, "Come to Cannon Oaks immediately to assume ..."
"Tell Bunyan and Hall."
"Bunyan and Hall, my ass! They don't tell you what to do!"
"Oh, don't they? Who's going to run the estate? Who's going to disburse the funds?"
"There's a will, isn't there?"
"Yes, and you can bet it gives a great deal of discretionary power to them. If I don't snap to and carry on the family business the way Dad wants, he's probably got it fixed so I won't inherit anything."
"But that's terrible!"
"Yeah."
"You don't know anything about the paper business."
"Right."
"You don't know anything about any business."
"I majored in business administration at Stanford. You ought to remember that. You used to help me with my homework."
"The kind of homework I helped you with had nothing to do with your classes," she said.
"Well, occasionally I had some books lying open beside the bed. I thought you might have glanced at them.
She dropped into a chair opposite him and her stockinged legs sprawled across the rug. "What are we going to do?"
"Go to Cannon Oaks, of course. I hate the thought as much as you do, but we're at least going to have to put in an appearance."
Lupita appeared from the back of the apartment. When she saw he was still naked and seated with his wife, she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
"Oh, Lupe," Sophia said. "I understand you and Mister Bardell had a good time while I was gone."
She gasped again, sharply, and turned in fright. Sophia laughed. "Come back here!"
Lupita reappeared meekly.
"It's all right," said Sophia. "Mister Bardell and I have a perfect understanding. He fucks whom he wants and so do I. Sometimes we even help one another make arrangements. So don't worry."
"Meesus Bardell..." she murmured.
"What's the matter? You think that's shocking?"
"Eet ees . . . how you say? Extrano."
"Strange. Yes, I suppose it is. But it's the way we choose to live. Right, darling?"
"Oh, right! Very right."
"So don't hesitate to express yourself freely toward my husband at any time. I won't mind, I assure you."
Lupita stared at her for a moment, took a long look at Jeff's sprawled nakedness, then turned and disappeared in the hallway, murmuring to herself in Spanish.
"Poor girl," said Sophia. "By the way, how was she?"
"Good enough for two goes at it."
"But then you read the letter and it took your erection away?"
"Yeah."
"Have you called them yet?"
"Nope."
"When are you going to?"
"Right away, I suppose." He took a deep breath and sighed again. "Gannon Oaks. God, I haven't seen that place in . . . well, since I graduated from high school. That was twelve years ago."
"I've never seen it at all. How large is it?"
"It used to be about three thousand people. Dad's factory practically supports the town. That's all there is that amounts to anything."
She glanced at the sunburst clock on the wall. "You'd better call pretty soon if you're going to. It's after four o'clock."
He cursed silently to himself.
"What size martini to you want?" she asked as she crossed to the expensively paneled bar. "A double or a triple?"
"Martini, hell! Just bring the Beefeaters."
"Ice?"
"No."
He walked into the den to the telephone, carrying the lawyers' letter. He got the area code and number from the letterhead and dialed.
The door chimes rang as he was waiting for the phone to be answered. Sophia set the Beefeaters and a glass on the desk beside him and said, "I'll get it. Maybe Lupe hasn't recovered yet."
"By the way, darling," he called. "Give her some of your vitamin pills and tell her how to use them, will you?"
"Will do."
"Bunyan and Hall," a woman's voice said into his ear.
"Mister Bunyan, please. Jeff Bardell, Junior calling."
"Oh, yes, Mister Bardell. We were waiting to hear from you. One moment."
Jeff waited.
"Hello, Mister Bardell," a deep male voice boomed. "Gus Bunyan here. Sorry to have had to notify you about your father's illness in the way we did, but that was how he wanted it."
"I understand."
"When are you flying up?"
"Tell me this, Mister Bunyan: How long does Dad have?"
"No one knows, but the doctors are afraid it won't be long. He's growing weaker. I'm very sorry, Mister Bardell."
"Let's not be maudlin. We both stand to profit from the estate."
"Mister Bard-"
Jeff cut off his exclamation of shock with, "Is it absolutely necessary that I appear, or is there some other way this can be handled?"
"Well, I ..."
"Please be frank with me, Bunyan. After Dad goes, you'll be my attorney. That is, if we get along."
Bunyan cleared his throat. "I would advise you to come up right away. That's all I can tell you. Your father was very explicit."
"All right. I'll check for a flight in the morning."
"I've already checked," Bunyan said. "There's one leaving Los Angeles for Redding at seven-ten."
"That's the middle of the night," Jeff protested.
"It's the only flight. The next is two-thirty in the afternoon. That would get you here after business hours."
"All right," Jeff said with a sigh. "Seven-ten it is. Will you have someone meet me at the airport?"
"I'll be there, Mister Bardell."
"Okay. See you then."
Jeff hung up.
"What's all this?" a woman's voice asked. "Leaving town?"
Jeff turned to find himself facing, nude, an old friend named Betty Finstad. She and her first husband, Fred, had gone to college with Sophia and Jeff. Her new husband, George, wasn't as broad-minded as Fred, and the Bardells hadn't seen much of the Finstads lately.
"Hi, Betty," he said. Then, in answer to her question, added, "yeah, we're taking off for Cannon Oaks. My father's dying."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Oh, not you, too. Please!" He poured himself a triple shot of gin and asked, "Want one?"
"Not like that. Sophia's fixing me a Gibson."
Carrying his drink, he followed her into the living room. She gestured at his wagging cock and asked, "Were you getting ready to do something with that or had you just done it?"
"I might be persuaded," he said.
"It's tempting, but I promised George no more swapping. Thanks, darling," she added as Sophia handed her the cocktail.
The three of them sat down.
Betty, an exceedingly well-proportioned blonde crossed her legs high and let her short skirt pull back. Jeff stared at a slice of golden under-thigh.
"I popped over to tell you about a bash I'm planning for Friday. I suppose you'll be out of town, right?" Her lips kissed the cocktail glass.
"Well, not both of us," Sophia said.
"Yes, both of us," Jeff corrected, looking sternly at his wife. "Cannon Oaks is going to be bad enough without my having to stick it out alone."
"He needs moral support, the darling," Sophie said. "He has to take over his father's business."
"Sounds like fun," Betty suggested.
"You don't know Cannon Oaks," Jeff told her.
All the while they were talking, Jeff continued to visually caress the little patch of bare thigh that was visible on the leg which Betty crossed over her other one. It had been a long time since he'd fucked the pretty blonde, and he felt a strong urge for her now, all the more so because her new husband was so strict.
A subtle change began to come over Jeff's anatomy as his gaze licked her thigh. It was subtle, at first, because not a very long time had passed since he had twice screwed Lupita. But he was a man capable of remarkably quick recovery.
Betty twisted slightly in her chair and-wink! He caught the barest glimpse of her rich, red slit.
His cock saluted.
"Jeff!" Betty squealed delightedly. But she wrapped her skirt snugly around her.
"Sorry," he said. "You really ought to wear panties."
Sophia watched in mild amusement.
Betty stood up. "Well, I'm leaving. George would kill me if I were to do anything naughty and he found out."
"That's too many if's," Jeff said as he took to his feet. He made an impressive spectacle.
Betty took a final quick glance, set down her unfinished cocktail, and bee-lined for the door. "Bye, you two," she said. "Write me from up north, okay?" And she was gone.
"Damn," Jeff muttered.
His wife gazed at him and let the smile she had been wearing take fuller possession of her face. She stood up. "Come on," she said. "You need a little taming down."
He watched her girdled hips sway through the den toward the bedroom. He followed, pausing on the way to pour himself another large jolt of Beefeaters.
Sophia had removed her two-piece pantsuit by the time he arrived in the bedroom.
She said, "We're going to have to do something about Betty and George. I've been itching to get him on a mattress, and you made it pretty plain that you've missed Betty."
"We have other things to think about now."
"You mean right now or tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow. Cannon Oaks."
She bent, and with a taut double flip release her brassiered boobies. They were small a nd perfectly erect.
Jeff took another gulp of gin.
Sophia moved to a chair, breasts trembling, and sat down to remove her hose. She still had the college girl's body he remembered at Stanford. He reacted to it now as he had reacted then. There never had been any love between them, in the sentimental sense; he had married her because she was a good companion who was willing to share the way of life he had chosen for himself. Neither of them had changed in any important respect. They were still a pair of rebels-he against the dull provincialism into which he had been born and in which his father had sought permanently to entrap him, and she against a father who had preached sainthood to her while he practiced deviltry with every loose-hipped broad in San Francisco.
Moreover, their way of life had worked because it had given both of them pleasure with no sacrifice of material security, and material security was the only kind either of them thought they needed.
Jeff watched her peel away her nylons, baring legs that were smooth and slim. All action-that was what Sophia was built for. She was athletic both in and out of the bedroom.
She stood and rolled her pantygirdle down.
Her wearing of that armor had always seemed a contradiction to Jeff. She had no physical need for it, since she had no belly to speak of and her hips possessed only the gentlest roundness. Her buttocks were perky but small. He supposed there was a psychological need of some sort which he had never quite fathomed. He didn't buy the explanation she had given him long ago, that she wore a girdle to keep her stockings smooth. Garter belts were less constrictive and they worked as well. Besides, she could get pantyhose.
But Sophia's choice of underwear was entirely her own business, as far as he was concerned.
She stepped out of the pantygirdle and tossed it aside. "There," she said, smiling wickedly as she thrust out her ample pubic bush at him. "Now, tell me-will this be a suitable substitute for what Betty showed you?"
"Well, I've always been partial to blonde hair, but any port in a storm."
"You dog! I ought to cross my legs and tell you to whistle."
"You tried that once when we were playing, remember?" he said, eyes a twinkle. "I just hoisted your legs up in front of me, and went to work that way."
"And I kicked you in the snout, as I recall," she said, walking over to him. "Hey, what the devil did I do with my drink?"
He watched her stroll out to the living room, and admired the twitch of her little buttocks. He took the rest of the gin in his glass. Now he had a very warm glow, centering in his stomach and spreading all the way down to his crotch.
He went to the bed and stretched out on his back.
When Sophia returned, sipping at her cocktail, he said, "You do the work this time, will you, honey? I feel kind of bushed."
"You don't look bushed. "Bushy would be more like it."
"Just the same, Lupita was a pretty rough tumble."
Standing beside the bed and watching him, her lips moving next to the martini glass, Sophia asked, "Did she fight?"
"At first. I talked her out of her dress and slip, but she wouldn't go any further so I had to take tilings into my own hands."
"I'll bet you enjoyed that. You've always said a little struggle adds spice."
"She didn't struggle much. She was hungry."
"Mmm."
Sophia drained her glass and set it down beside the bed. Now her eyes, too, reflected a liquored warmth.
"Climb aboard," he said huskily and extended his arms toward her.
Sophia positioned herself atop Jeff, straddling his pelvis, and then-with no foreplay whatsoever-she sat back on her heels and swallowed his cock into her juicy slit.
"Mmmph," Jeff moaned at the sudden envelopment.
"How's that?" she asked, her eyes smoky now as she looked down at him.
"Fantastic," he sighed. "When does the action begin?"
"Right now!" she said, raising up slightly and then jamming her cunt down hard on his full erection.
"Oooph!"
"And again!" she said more excitedly, repeating the movement.
"Yes!" Jeff panted. "Goddamn, you've got the hottest box of any woman I know!"
"Thanks," she said, ramming her cunt down on him again.
It felt like even his balls were slithering up inside her. Jeff gripped her hips with his hands and began lifting her body up and down over him more gently.
But she would have none of it.
She pulled free of his grasp and slammed her cunt home again. "Harder!" she hissed. "I want you to do it hard!"
"I am hard, damn it!" he retorted, lifting his hips into her and shoving his rod in as far as it could possibly go.
"That's not what I meant-and you know it!" Sophia closed her eyes.and began bobbing up and down on him frantically. "God, I'm so hot! So hot! So ..."
Jeff reached down and pinched her clit with his fingers, whenever he could catch it, which succeeded in making her bounce even faster. When she was this hot, this little trick always made her come.
"Ooooh! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" She came. She shuddered all over-then went perfectly rigid. A few seconds later she collapsed and her body sank down over him, with his shaft still fully impaled.
Jeff gave her a few tentative jabs.
"Oooh, no, wait . . . wait a minute . . . just a minute .. . please ..." she moaned.
Jeff waited, hoping his hard-on wouldn't disappear, and concentrated his thoughts on Lupita.
All too soon, however, Sophia was back for more. Refusing to give up her dominant position, she lifted her torso backward until she could settle her weight back down on his crotch, and then she resumed fucking him.
Jeff shut his eyes to the sight of her small. wobbly breasts, and with a smile, remembered Lupita's big, lush ones.
Sophia scarcely noticed the smile. She was still beated up and her eyes were shut tight and her mouth hung open slackly.
She was rotating her hips now in a full circle-around and around-and then she would suddenly drop down on him hard. Over and over again she kept it up, and the sensation began to drive Jeff crazy. His knees were beginning to turn to jelly and he knew his time was coming.
He grasped her hips forcibly this time, and began banging her up and down, allowing her no freedom for that rotation bullshit. The more he banged her, the more he felt Hke his balls were following his cock up her slick shaft.
"God," he groaned.
"You-you're going t-t-to make me c-c-come again!" Sophia squealed as she arched her back and readied herself for orgasm. In her delirium, she began clawing at his pubic hairs-pulling on them, squeezing the skin beneath and scratching him with her fingernails.
Jeff gritted his teeth and dug his own fingernails into the flesh of her hips.
"Ow! You're hurting me!" she complained, snapping back to her senses. She released her grip on his cock curls at the same time-and then it was all over.
As soon as the annoying pain ceased, Jeff slammed her pussy down on him one last time and went off like a geyser.
Sophia, not wanting to be left, behind, bounced up and down on his gushing staff and plunged her hand down into her cuntlips. She rubbed herself with a frenzy, masturbating before his eyes-which caused him to come a little more-and then she too was taken over by climax.
"Sonofabitch!" she screamed before her muscles jerked her body every whichway, uncontrollably, and she finally toppled over and off him.
Much later, after dinner and more drinking and a half-hearted attempt to watch television, Sophia finally gave up and went to bed. Jeff lingered in front of the glass wall of the den, a drink in one hand and the eyepiece of his mounted telescope in the other.
He was not looking at the stars.
There was a bleached blonde who had an apartment a little ways down the hill and whose bedroom was on the side of the house facing the Bardells' apartment. She had a great variety of boy friends, and she enjoyed making love by lamplight without bothering to close her drapes.
Jeff wondered how she got her boy friends to stand for that, but obviously she managed it somehow. They seemed oblivious to the huge unshaded window.
She was with the dark one tonight. He was extremely dark Puerto Rican or Cuban or perhaps-African in descent. Jeff could not be sure. But he was a pov/erful man and the blonde was enjoying him dearly.
The trouble was, Jeff had drunk so much on this particular evening that he could hardly make out what was happening in her apartment. The lovers were indistinct blurs on the bed, alternately moving more closely together, then separating slightly. Except for the dramatic difference in skin tones, he would have had difficulty making any sense of it all, but, as it was, the blonde's scissoring golden legs contrasted strikingly with the man's cafe au lait thickness.
Jeff stopped watching to down the remainder of the drink he held, then inadvertently jarred the telescope and set it out of focus and off target. "Fuck," he swore aloud.
In his condition, it took him several minutes to find the right window amid the vast panorama of gleaming lights and a few seconds more to refocus the instrument. When this was accomplished, the fuck had ended. The blonde lay on her back alone, wantonly advertising the fact that only her hairdresser knew.
Jeff let the telescope go and moved where his wife was sprawled in the center of the bed, uncovered and unclothed. He stood for a little while looking at her, then looked down at his thoroughly deflated cock.
Too much sex and too much booze, he mused. They always deflated a man in the end.
He dropped his empty glass on the shag rug and moved up beside the bed.
"Hey," he said to Sophia, "make way, will you?"
"Mmmm?"
"Make room. I'm getting in."
"Welcome," she murmured. Her legs moved apart.
"Not like that, you sex fiend," he mumbled, and gave her a rude shove to her side of the bed.
"Spoil-sport," she hissed sleepily.
He reclined on the bed beside her with a sigh. He looked at the pebbly white acoustical ceiling which was now shrouded in dimness, and thought disconsolately of Cannon Oaks.
Well, at least Lupita would be there with him. That would relieve boredom for a while.
Chapter 3
Coast-Air was a minor carrier that hopped from San Diego to Riverside to Los Angeles to Sacramento to Redding and to a number of points in between. Because of the short flights and low fares, they did not use the best or most modern equipment and their stewardesses did not possess the prettiest hips.
The girl on Jeff's flight had a skirt that was a little baggy in the seat. That was no tailoring fault. The skirt was all right. The girl simply did not have enough seat to fill it.
A far cry from TWA, United and American, he mused.
He had wondered on occasion if the major airlines selected their girls more for their buttocks than anything else. He had even gone so far as to imagine what an initial personnel interview might be like: "All right, Miss Jones, now will you kindly stand over there and face the other way? Good . . . good. Now please lift your skirt. Yes, that's quite necessary. You see, we have to be certain you have the right quality of curves. Higher, Miss Jones. All the way up. Oh, yes. That's It. Very nice, indeed."
This was hokum, of course, but it was an obvious fact that there were a greater proportion of beautiful asses among the airline hostesses than among the young female population at large.
Jeff amused himself in this way sometimes when he was in the throes of a hangover, particularly if he found himself trapped in a situation that offered only boredom. At such times the mind represented the sole possibility of escape.
He was bored on the flight and he had more boredom to look forward to-nothing but boredom, he feared, for as long as he would have to remain in Cannon Oaks.
His hope was that he could persuade his father to release him from the obligation, assuming the atd man was still able to converse. If only Jeff Bardell, Senior, had had another son! But that wouldn't be good because it would involve a civision of the estate and Jeff calculated that he would need all his father's wealth in order to keep Mmself going for the next forty or fifty years.
As for earning more from the business, Jeff wasn't interested. What good was money if you bad to wear yourself out to make it?
The plane touched down and taxied to a stop at the Redding airport. Jeff alighted behind his wife and Lupita.
It wasn't out of chivalry that he permitted the maid to go first. Today she wasn't wearing her shapeless black uniform, but had on a skimpy near-nothing of a sleeveless minidress. It fit so siugly around the backside that Jeff could make out the elastics of her underpants.
He wondered why he had always found those telltale ridges sexy. One might assume that the absence of ridges would be sexier, since it suggested the girl was not wearing panties. This wasn't so, as far as Jeff was concerned. And it was not merely because he knew the lack of ridges was more apt to indicate the girl wore panties that were ridgeless rather than that she was without the undergarment altogether. The ridges themselves appealed to him.
As he and the woman approached the terminal building, he glanced over the small crowd waiting in front of the place. He had no idea what Gus Bunyan looked like, since all his contacts with the man had been by mail or telephone, but he had met other lawyers. Most of them were overstuffed and pompous, in appearance as well as in manner. Bunyan, judging from his voice was in this class.
"Well?" Sophia asked as they stopped and watched other passengers greet people who were waiting for them.
"He said he would be here," was Jeff's response.
He saw no one to fit his mental image of Bunyan. Anyway, everyone who was waiting seemed to have paired off with someone who had arrived.
"We'll grab a taxi," Jeff said, heading into the terminal building, en route to the driveway in front.
When he was halfway across the lobby, with Sophia and Lupita following behind, the front door swung open and an ash-blonde rushed in. She wore a snow-white blouse and a snug short skirt. A purse swung from her shoulder by a long strap.
"Mister Bardell?" she inquired breathlessly.
His eyes moved from the thrusting hillocks of her breasts, tarried momentarily at her lush pink lips, which were like dewy rose petals parting at dawn, and finally found her baby-blue eyes.
"You're not Gus Bunyan," he said.
"That's very perceptive of you," she replied with an icy edge. "I'm his secretary, Miss Blake."
"Ah."
"Mister Bunyan was suddenly called to court. He asked me to pick you up."
"That could only be an improvement. Oh, this is my wife and that's our maid, Lupita."
Miss Blake said, "Glad to know you both. But this poses something of a problem."
"How so?"
"Well, you see I drive a two-forty-Z, and ..."
"What?" Sophia asked.
"A two-forty-Z. A Datsun two-forty-Z. It's a little car with only a boot in the back."
"Oh."
"It won't seat more than two people, I'm afraid."
''Why don't Lupe and I find a motel, Jeff?" Sophia suggested. "You can ride with Miss Blake to the office."
"Oh, that won't be necessary, Mrs. Bardell. The motel, I mean. You're to stay at the Bardell residence."
"Whether we want to or not?" Jeff asked.
"Well, I naturally assumed that..."
"Get a motel," he told Sophia, "and call me at
Banyan's office to tell me where you are."
She nodded and said, "Nice to have met you, MissBlake." Then she headed for the baggage counter with Lupita tagging behind.
Jeff grinned. "Shall we be off?"
"Yes. Of course."
The secretary would have qualified as an airline hostess, rear-wise. Hers was remarkably beautiful and displayed to perfection in her snug blue skirt. It possessed the perky roundness of his wife's with just enough of Lupe's voluptuousness added. As if flexed enticingly in front of him, on the way to her car, he detected only the merest hint of ridges, angling upward across the outer portion of each buttock and around the tops of her full thighs. The girl's waist was very slim. The peaks in her white Mouse quivered slightly as her heels clipped on the concrete.
"Do you have a first name, Miss Blake?" he asked.
"Of course. Doesn't everyone?"
He was off on the wrong foot with the girl. That much was evident.
"I understand the Ubangis don't," he told her.
"Really!"
Her car was a bright red beauty. As the girl sat down and swung her legs around, the contouring of the vinyl seat caught and held her skit, causing her tegs to be denuded to the crotch.
"Damn," the girl murmured, tugging at her skirt.
She pulled it to within five inches of her knees, which was as far as it would go when she was seated.
When Jeff raised his eyes, they met hers. He had never realized blue eyes could be so chilly.
"You don't like me, do you?" he said with a smile.
"It isn't for me to like or not to like. You're a client."
"Small correction. My father's the client. I may be one in the future, or I may not. But I wasn't asking the secretary. I was asking the girl."
"The girl would rather not commit herself. All right?"
She turned the ignition key and her Datsun snarled into life.
It was a half-hour drive to Cannon Oaks along a secondary highway that dipped and twisted through the lower elevations of the Cascades. The ash-blonde secretary, whose first name he still didn't know, handled the sprightly car like a competition driver. He complimented her once on this and she replied with a simple "Thank you," continuing to watch the road as her hair blew next to her face and her linen blouse-or what was within it, or both-quivered temptingly.
The town was just as he remembered it. But value-wise it ranked lower in his estimation. He saw it now as a city sophisticate of mature years. The main street seemed narrower and junkier; the buildings that climbed the canyon walls at either side seemed more drab than he remembered them. There were a few new ones, of course, and the older ones were pretty well maintained, but none of them looked attractive to him.
A tourist might have called the place picturesque. Jeff's characterization was not as complimentary.
Bunyan's secretary wheeled her little car into a at the Main Street curbing and cut the engine. Jeff watched her swing her legs around, mticipating that the ridge vinyl would grab her skirt again. It did, but this time all he saw were the fops of her thighs. Someone positioned exactly sight, outside the car, would have seen a great deal more.
He met her on the sidewalk.
"We're in this building," she said, indicating an old pile of dark bricks in front of them.
He followed the tick-tock motion of her buttocks through a postage stamp lobby and into an iron cage elevator. The operator was a stoop-shouldered old man.
"Hello, Jimmy," the girl said with more warmth than she had shown Jeff at any time during the thirty or forty minutes they had been together.
"Hello, Miss Blake," the man squeaked.
The ascent was shaky and Jeff watched the girl's breasts. They did more than quiver now. They ;iggled. She was wearing a flimsy bra, he concluded-the kind whose cups would easily be shoe-homed away.
He thought about that and his cock gave him a preliminary notice that it was ready.
The suite occupied by Bunyan and Hall was more prosperous-looking in its interior than was the building overall. It consisted of a small but well-appointed reception room where a middle-aged woman sat, and from which two open doorways led to the rooms of the attorneys' secretaries; beyond them the private offices of the lawyers themselves with a library of law books situated between them. Jeff didn't perceive all this at first glance, of course, but he had occasion to visit all parts of the suite during the days to come.
The receptionist said, "That was quick, Shirley. And this must be Mister Bardell, Juniori" She beamed.
Jeff nodded and returned her smile. "In here, Mister Bardell, if you please," Shirley said, entering her own little office. He followed.
"Now, there are some things Mister Bunyan wanted you to read, but I suppose you will want to check with the hospital to find out when you can see your father." She indicated the telephone on her desk.
"Make the call for me, will you?" he asked. She made her disapproval even more obvious as she looked at him now. "I realize it's none of my business, but what is it between you and your father, Mister Bardell?"
"There?s nothing between us," he said with a smile, "except the accident of nature that made him my father."
"That's a very peculiar thing for a son to say." He stared at her. There was the beauty of those lush lips, flawless complexion, pert little nose, silken, delicate-shaded hair, and eyes as clear and blue as a mountain lake. And all of it disliked him. He couldn't put up with this.
He pulled her into, his arms, causing her breasts to spread like inflated little balloons against his chest. He kissed her hard, deliberately brushing the fresh strawberry lips. He moved his lips, sucking, and then stabbed her deftly with his tongue.
Then he released her and she swayed back on her heels. She was blinking, her lips moist and still parted.
He waited, smiling confidently. Before he could discard his smile, her expression underwent a lightning change and her delicate hand flew through the air, cracking him across the cheek. It wasn't a playful tap. She meant it.
His face stinging, he looked at her in shock. He hadn't been slapped in years-not really slapped. "I'll make that call now," she said. She turned toward the telephone on her desk.
He stared at her pretty behind, the snug skirt, bathing suit and the panty lines barely distinguishable. He grasped her by the arm, spun r. half around, and dropped into a chair with her iiilmg across his lap.
On the way down she gasped. When she settled across his legs she gave a cry. When the flat of his lend landed smack across her lovely upturned buttocks, she squawked. He spanked her again, harder, delighting in the springiness of her rounded flesh. She twisted and squealed, but his arm held her down.
From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed the arrival of the receptionist in the doorway. She exclaimed, "Mister Barde-" He kept spanking, pouring on the coal, drubbing her lively buttocks good.
Then suddenly a deep voice demanded, "What's this?"
"Shirley's being spanked," the receptionist stated unbelievingly.
Jeff stopped the spanking and let the girl up.
Gus Bunyan entered the office and said, "By Godfrey, that's something she's had coming for years! Too bad her daddy never did it."
He beamed at Jeff and stuck out his hand. "Bunyan's the name and you're BardelFs boy. Well, I can see we're going to get along!"
Jeff liked him immediately.
"On the phone I wasn't sure what sort you were," Bunyan said. "You have to meet a man in person to find out about him."
"I might say the same thing, Mister Bunyan. I had the wrong idea about you, too."
"Call me Gus. Have a cigar?"
"No thanks. I don't use them."
Jeff took out his cigarettes and put one in his mouth while Bunyan waited with his desk lighter to ignite it. Bunyan took a long straight cigar with a light brown wrapper out of his desk humidor and rotated the lighter flame at the end of it. He puffed and the gray smoke rose in small clouds.
Bunyan was fifty, gray-haired, and had a mustache. His eyes were dark. He was heavy-set. Physically he had the overstuffed look that Jeff had anticipated. Something in his voice on the telephone had made that mandatory. But he was not in the least degree pompous.
He said, "Now I want to know where we stand. I take it from our telephone conversation that you're a man who speaks his mind."
"I try to, whenever possible."
"And that spanking you gave my fancy-pants secretary tells me you're & man with guts. By the way, precisely what did she do to invite it?"
"Nothing," Jeff said,^"except being what she is."
Bunyan laughed. "I know what you mean. I've put up with her superior airs for as long as she's been here and I've wanted to spank her myself. But, you see, I lack the gumption you have."
The smile left his face. "Now, about your father-I have the impression that there's no love lost between you two."
"That's how I feel. I can't speak for him."
"Have you called the hospital?" Bunyan asked through a glob of smoke.
"Not yet."
"I would if I were you. The last report I had was quite negative. The end is near, I'm afraid."
"May I?" Jeff asked, reaching for the instrument on the lawyer's desk.
"Of course. The receptionist will get the number for you."
Jeff told the woman what he wanted. He waited until the call was put through and he finally reached the doctor in charge.
"Of course, you can see your father," Dr. Nickman said. "Come over as soon as possible."
"How is he?"
"The left side of his body is paralyzed. There is some lung involvement. He has not been responding to treatment."
"I see. How long has he, Doctor?"
"That's hard to say. A week, perhaps considerably less time than that."
Jeff sighed and said, "I'll be right over.?' He hung up the phone.
"I would go with you," the attorney told him, "except that I have some appointments. Will you come directly back here?"
Jeff nodded.
When he stepped into the secretary's office, she turned quickly from an open filing drawer and looked at him. There was something in her eyes that he hadn't seen before.
"Are you going to the hospital?" she asked.
"Yes."
"I'll see if I can drive you. Just a moment."
Stunned, Jeff stood and watched her round, pliant buttocks twist as she entered Bunyan's office. He recalled how those buttocks had felt as he spanked them.
She appeared a moment later, smiling. "Yes, I can drive you," she said.
They left the office, took the elevator to the ground floor of the building, and walked to her car. Again Jeff watched her skirt slither up her legs as she positioned herself in the seat. This time she did not pull it down.
Jeff's cock responded to the sight of her crotch. The girl had a succulent, fresh beauty, and the haughtiness she had displayed earlier only made her beauty all the more enticing.
"The hospital's just outside town," she announced.
He had been thinking over her eagerness to drive him, in spite of what had happened between them just a few minutes before. Looking at her now, he thought he could detect a renewal of rosiness in her cheeks.
He said, "We don't have to go directly there."
She had backed the car out of the parking stall. Now she killed the engine, with the car's rear end sticking out into the street. Another vehicle honked behind them.
"What do you mean?" she asked, staring at him.
"I mean . . . the hospital will wait."
"You are a louse," she said slowly, in a low voice.
He grinned. "Maybe. But one thing I'm not is a hypocrite."
"What do you mean about going somewhere else? Where?"
The horn honked behind them again. She paid no attention.
"I'll leave that up to you," he told her.
She started to drive, and he watched her from the corner of his eye with amusement. She kept swallowing as she looked straight ahead, her face more flushed than ever. She touched her gleaming full lips with a pink tongue.
After they had proceeded a short distance on the main street, she took a right and they headed up the hillside on a narrow, winding road. The hospital was not up there. He remembered that much.
He looked down at her legs, which now were even more exposed as a result of her moving them to operate brake, clutch and gas peddle. His cock was now almost fully erect.
She pulled the car to a stop in front of a two-story frame house which was set on the hillside. Large trees shielded it from the residences on either side.
"Hurry," she said, "so no one sees."
She was out of the car immediately and he followed. They moved quickly up the cracked concrete stairs to the front door. Her key opened the place. (He learned later that she rented a room here from a couple who ran a drugstore; both of them were away all day. At the time, she offered no explanation and he wasn't about to ask for one. He was more than willing to let the situation anfold of its own accord.)
Not saying a word, she walked quickly upstairs in front of him. His hands itched to grasp her buttocks then and there. The little quiver of the rounded cheeks as they flexed and rubbed against one another within the tight skirt was maddening.
She led him down the hall to her room.
She dug frantically through her bag to find her key; once she had it in hand, she could hardly get it into the lock. Finally the door swung open and he followed her inside. She closed the door behind Ihem.
"Well!" he said, smiling at her.
There was a bed, neatly made, along with a dresser, a couple of chairs and a television set. The room was clean and attractive but small. A faint odor of perfume or incense hung in the air.
The color in her cheeks remained high as she looked at him and suddenly her blue eyes turned hard and accusing again. She spoke with what seemed to be great difficulty, her voice having acquired a tense huskiness.
"You think you know why I brought you here, but you're wrong."
"Oh?"
"There's something I want to tell you that I couldn't say in the office or even in the car."
"Go on." He couldn't keep an amused twinkle out of his eyes.
"I think you are the most disgusting man I have ever met." Her voice was acquiring added force, but the tense huskiness remained. "You are self-centered, conceited, egotistical and thoroughly nasty."
A rising surge of emotion possessed him, but it was not anger. Now he understood the bitch. His eyes kept their twinkle, but they turned a little harder. He didn't say anything and he didn't make a move.
"Your father is dying and you don't care. You're a spoiled, rich, revolting person. I hate you!"
He licked his lips. Every nerve within him was quivering, telling him to do what he was going to do. But he exerted his will power and held himself back. He wanted her to build the situation to a maximum pitch. He wanted to have a more than ample excuse for everything that was to follow.
She moved closer, her cheeks rosy and her eyes like chunks of blue stone catching the sunlight. Her lips were moist and lush, her teeth gleaming white behind them.
"You're a pig! A slob! A terrible person!"
"All right," he said slowly, his voice under taut control. "You've said a lot and it was all very naughty. You're going to have to be punished."
"No," she whined, recoiling as he reached out for her.
He moved forward, eyes glinting. "You're going to be punished severely."
She backed against the wall, her eyes wide and dancing with a strange light. She whimpered, "No. Oh, please. Oh, don't ..."
"Yes," he said as he moved up in front of her. His hard, gleaming eyes drilled into hers, which now were weak and submissive, but strangely stimulated. "I'm not only going to spank you. I'm going to humiliate you."
She gasped.
"I'm going to humiliate you by lifting up your skirt and taking down your pants."
She keened excitedly.
"I'm going to spank you on the bare bottom and I'm going to make it red. I'm going to use my hand and I'm going to use that big flat hairbrush on your dresser."
"No!"
"Yes! I'm going to paddle the daylights out of you, and then I'm going to make you show me how sorry you are for being so very, very naughty."
"Oh!" she cried.
He let an evil grin spread all the way across his face, and then he grasped her by the wrist and spun her away from the wall. She staggered and fell face-down across the bed.
He pounced on top of her, placing his knees at each side of her slim waist, and he sat back lightly against the upper portion of her back. Wailing and crying, she beat against the bed with her fists. She arched her back as much as possible, which forced her buttocks up. They quivered against her skirt as they waggled this way and that.
Jeff gazed at the sight with the greatest relish. This was rare fun. He was going to gain from the atuation every bit of pleasure it had to give.
Her skirt was well above her knees, so it wasn't going to have to be pulled very far. But it was a straight garment and this posed a problem. He decided on the quickest and simplest solution. He grasped the skirt at the hem, above the division line between her legs, tightened his grip, and pulled with all his might.
Shirley shrieked as the skirt split with a great ripping sound. The split traveled up the outer side of her left leg from hem to top. Jeff lay the torn flap aside, as if he were opening the cover of a book.
She wore a straight pink slip, shiny and thin. He grasped that and performed the same operation, splitting it at the side and tossing the flap away.
He had uncovered a delightful sight: Luscious legs, pantyhose all the way up her thighs, to the pink panties that fit snugly on her jiggling'bottom and were so sheer that the line of cleavage showed through.
She was issuing short whining cries, half muffled by the bed, but she was twisting less now. Her legs were still.
He dug underneath the rumpled cloth at her waist, raising himself slightly at the same time, and found the waist elastic of her panties and pantyhose. He stretched this toward her legs, pulling it out from under the torn slip and skirt, denuding the upper portions of her buttocks. But it was caught underneath the weight of both their bodies pressing the front of her panties against the bed.
He put his thumbs under the elastic and ran them around the sides of her hips. He worked the panties back and forth, gradually dislodging them at her belly and getting the top of them down to her hips. He slid his grip as low as possible on each side and gave a vigorous push. She cried as the double elastic went to her thighs.
He plucked the stretched nylon at the middle, where it was still clinging to the fullness of her buttocks, and folded it down. He worked it into a shining pink rope midway down her asscheeks. This was, perhaps, the prettiest behind he had ever seen. The curves were plump and full, but firm as could be. They were set close together. She was tanned lightly on the legs, but her bottom was a delicious shade of pinkish white.
He was going to turn it completely pink. He was going to put the prints of his hands all over it, and he was going to keep spanking her until the handprints merged.
She sobbed and moaned, but had stopped struggling. She was lying tensely between his straddling legs.
"Now you're going to get the spanking of your life," he announced as he lifted his right hand. "Kind of spanking that your father should have given you."
"No!" she cried, arching her back-which had She effect of forcing her bottom up. She waggled it and it quivered.
Jeff stared for a few moments more, savoring the enticing sight and burning it into his memory. Then he brought his hand down squarely across her buttocks-slapping them with a resounding smack that caused them to compress, then jump and shake as he quickly lifted his hand for the next blow. Shirley wailed.
He spanked her again at the same place. He spanked her a third time on the left buttock only, causing that one to shake against the other, which remained still. He used his left hand to slap her right buttock. Now he spanked both buttocks at once, using both hands.
She hollered and kicked, but she wasn't trying to free herself. She wanted what he was giving her. That much had been plain to him from the beginning.
Her buttocks became pink as he continued to spank them. Finger lines showed up, along with larger rosy blotches made by the palms of his hands. And all the time the punished buttocks danced, the plump flesh shaking and quivering. He spanked her harder, using only his right hand now, powering it down, blistering her rear with a rapid series of staccato smacks.
Suddenly he stopped, swung one leg over her and leaped from the bed.
"Don't move or you'll get twice as much," he warned as he lunged to the dresser to grasp her large wooden hairbrush.
"Oh, no! God, no please!" she squealed. But she didn't get off her belly.
He didn't climb back on top of her this time. He merely stood at the side of the bed, bent forward slightly, and laid the hairbrush on her.
The sound of this repeated smacking was louder and sharper than the sound of his hand against her bottom had been. She cried piteously, but he showed no pity. She twisted, rubbing her pussy against the bed and splaying her legs, but she didn't try to remove her ass from the line of fire.
Jeff's cock was now rock-hard. The experience had provided tremendous stimulation. His arm arched, but he continued to flail her upturned buttocks with the hairbrush.
Suddenly she moaned very loudly and clutched the bedspread at either side of her. Her lower body twisted against the bed and then she shuddered all over with what looked like a monumental climax.
He stopped spanking her.
She turned onto her side and faced him with glazed eyes and wet, slack lips. She stared at the bulge in the front of his slacks which was even with her line of sight. Almost before he realized what she was doing, she reached out and slid his zipper down. Then she took his prick out.
"Oh, Daddy ... Daddy!" she cried, lunging forward, her pink lips wide, her hot mouth enfolding his prick.
A growl came up all the way from his guts as he felt the sleek encompassing moistness. She began bobbing her head, crying softly.
Jeff dug at the front of her clothing, popping buttons off her white blouse, hooking a flimsy bra cup away. Now his hand was full of a trembling nude breast and he squeezed it in time with Shirley's motions.
He denuded the other breast and squeezed and shook that one. He moved his hand from one to the other, shaking them and plucking at the copies. He could see only one breast because Shirley's twisted body was in the way, but that one was a luscious beauty. It was creamy white with the smallest, most adorable pink tip he had ever seen. It was like a fresh-little berry just getting ripe. He rolled it and pulled at it as Shirley went on giving him the most intense blow-job he had gotten in some time.
She showed no sign of wanting to stop, and he didn't want her to do so. She had had her climax. Now she was going to give him his in gratitude.
He groaned again as her sucking caused his nuts to draw tighter and tighter and tighter. Pretty soon be wouldn't be able to control himself.
His hand left her breasts and slipped down to her pussy. He delved his fingers into her slit and shot two fingers deep inside her vagina.
He was shocked to discover she was a virgin.
He took his hand away and returned it to her feeasts where he squeezed and pulled at them until siddenly he began to shoot his wad, his cock punching forward into her throat as he squirted jet after jet into her. Shirley made a strange contented sound and maintained the embrace.
Only after she had milked him of his last drop did she lean back and smile up at him. She murmured, "Was that all right, darling?"
Later, as she got into a different white blouse . and a skirt that was almost identical, she told him, "You were wrong about my father. He used to spank me a lot. I needed it. He knew that and gave it- to me. But ever since I left home, no one had done it ... until today. When you spanked me in the office, I knew I would have to have more from you-the way my father used to do it, with my panties down."
"And the other?" he had to ask. "How about the other?"
"I've done that with several boys. I want to stay virgin until I'm married."
"But your father," Jeff said. "Did you ever suck his cock?"
"Goodness, no!"
"You wanted to, though, didn't you?"
She looked at him for a moment and then she moved into his arms, holding him close and crying against his shirt front.
"I'm so awful," she moaned. "I'm terrible. I ought to be spanked every day."
Chuckling, he said, "I'm afraid your cute behind couldn't stand that." He petted her lightly, soothingly, there. "Anyway, you're not bad. Quit thinking that. You're merely human, and that's a condition that afflicts all of us."
"I want to be with you again, Jeff," she said earnestly, tear tracks on her cheeks.
"We'll see."
"Does your wife let you spank her?"
"I've never tried."
"She ought to. Oh, God, it's great!"
"There's one strong argument against our seeing one another again."
"What's that?"
"Your desire to stay virgin."
"But the other . , . wasn't the other even better for you? Most boys think so."
"Cock-sucking is terrific-as a novelty. And you do it well. But fucking is best for steady driving."
"I couldn't."
"Why? Hasn't anyone ever told you virginity's old-fashioned?"
"All the guys say that when they're on the make. But when they're shopping for a wife, virginity is the biggest asset a girl can have."
"Around here, maybe," Jeff admitted. "But not most men in the cities."
"I like it up here," she said. "I like the mountains and the clear fresh air."
He smiled. "Well you're running your life."
"But you won't see me again?" For an answer, he gave her a peck on the lips.
"I'll do for you what I did today," she smised. "Any time at all."
Chapter 4
The nurse who let Jeff into his father's room had red hair that looked real. It was light in shade and she wore it in a whirl around the top of her head. She had the complexion of a real redhead, also-delicate and dusted with freckles.
This was not all she had going for her.
Her eyes were saucy green and her figure in the starched snug uniform would have been top-heavy except for the fact that her hips flared nicely. She was a lot of girl, all the way up and down, and she smiled in a way that was almost indecent at the entrance to a dying man's bedroom.
Jeff filed her in his brain for future reference and stepped through the doorway. She closed the door behind him.
The elder Bardell lay under a plastic oxygen tent. There was another nurse-an older woman with gray hair-seated beside his bed.
She stood up and told Jeff, "Please try not to tire him."
She opened a flap at the side of the tent. The equipment kept wheezing.
"Hello, Dad," Jeff said.
The old man turned slightly on his pillow, swinging his clouded gaze to Jeff's face. He was very pale. There was a hopelessness to his features now, but the old toughness was still there, too.
He moved his lips, but no sound came out.
He tried again and this time spoke, but he sounded as if his tongue were frozen and he seemed to have little breath to use.
"You've seen . . . Bunyan?"
"Yes, Dad."
"He'll tell you . . . what you need to know. Follow... his advice. Kelly, at the plant, will . . . help you there. He's a good man."
"Dad, listen to me. I don't want to run the business. I want to go back to Los Angeles."
The old man's eyes changed and Jeff saw the liciousness he had seen the last time they had met in L.A. That look aroused the fullness of his resentment as it had before.
"You're staying!" he croaked. "You'll do ... what I say! If you don't, I'll cut you off."
Jeff glared at him.
"It's time you . . . did something with your life. Past time. I carried on the business .. . from my father. You'll carry it on ... from me."
Jeff remained beside the bed for a few more moments, then turned on his heel and walked to the door without another word.
Just outside, the redhead was waiting. She sailed. "Doctor Wickam can see you now." As she turned, one large round breast rubbed against his arm." "Are you going to be staying in Cannon Oaks?" she asked as they walked along the barren white corridor.
"I don't know yet. My wife and I are here for a day or so."
"Oh."
He was amazed by the reaction his mention of a wife had drawn. He had done it intentionally for amusement value. The girl was thinking now. Damn! He's married. He's going to inherit all that money, and he has a wife who will get it. If Jeff decided to go after the girl later, he would make clear what sort of marriage he had. But this would cool her down for the time being. He did not like aggressive females-especially the ones who had marriage in mind. His talk with Doctor Wickam bore out, at greater length and in greater detail, what the doctor had told him over the phone. While all hope for his father's recovery was not gone, it now amounted to the slenderest threads. If the case developed as the early prognosis indicated, the elder Bardell would survive only a few more days.
Jeff rejoined Shirley in the hospital waiting room and rode with her back to her office. He had to cool his heels for a few minutes while Bunyan finished with a client, then was ushered into the lawyer's sanctum.
"How do you feel now?" Bunyan asked. "Since you've seen him, I mean."
"The same."
"The old man's determined, isn't he?"
"Yes."
"Are you going to stay?"
"He threatened to cut me off if I didn't. Can he do that?"
"As his lawyer, I would have to advise you that he can."
"Maybe I should retain a lawyer of my own."
"You may, of course."
"Look . . . ethics and that noise aside, lay it on the line for me. Remember that I'm the one you'll have to deal with after Dad is out of the way, either in this office or in court."
"I'm well aware of that."
"We have a common interest. We each want to nail down some proceeds of the estate without making a lot of trouble for ourselves. How do we do that?"
Bunyan tapped the ashes off the end of his cigar and remained still, looking at the ash tray for a while. He slowly lifted his gaze to Jeff's.
"You stay in town until your father dies," he said. "Let him believe you're going to go along with everything the way he wants it. The minute his heart stops beating the hand is played. We can shuffle for a new deal."
"And that will be?"
"Any way you want it. The will, as it now stands, gives you everything. Later you can sell or you can give the damn business away. You can appoint a manager and vest all authority in him."
"So it just boils down to keeping the old man from changing the will."
"That's it."
"I was afraid maybe the will contained a provision cutting me off if I didn't remain here."
"It does."
"Well, then?"
"That won't hold water. I tried to tell your father, but he insisted anyway. He happens to think that once you get your feet wet, once you get started in the business, you won't want to give it up. He's a great believer in heredity. He thinks you've got the same stuff in you that he has."
"He's wrong."
"I'm inclined to agree. But one of old Jeff's main characteristics is stubbornness."
"Hear, hear."
"You're going to stay?"
"All right. Until he dies."
Bunyan moved a thick file folder in front of him, pulled a sheaf of papers out of it, and dropped them on the desk in front of Jeff. "Take these home. Go over them carefully. Be here at nine o'clock in the morning and I'll take you to the plant."
Bunyan squinted and added. "Or maybe you'd rather go with Shirley."
"I don't think so," Jeff said with a wry smile. Not this time."
"When you two came back from the hospital, she had a different skirt on."
"You have a keen eye," Jeff said.
"How was she?"
Jeff told him, "Careless. She spilled a bottle of Coke down her front. We drove to her house and I waited in the car while she went up and changed."
Bunyan laughed.
"Anything else?" Jeff asked pleasantly as he stood up.
"No. I'll see you at nine in the morning."
As he passed through the lawyer's outer office, he noted that Shirley was standing beside her desk, bent forward slightly as she scribbled something. He moved close and whispered at her ear, "Can't sit down?"
"Oh, it's like fire," she breathed.
"Sorry."
Her finger clamped on his arm. "Don't be. Please don't be."
When he reached the reception room, the older woman told him, "I have a message from Mrs, Bardell. She has registered at the Morning Glory Motel. That's just down the street."
Jeff thanked her and walked out.
The manager at the motel told him his wife had rented units 12 and 14 which were side by side. He and Sophia had 12 and the maid had the other one.
He went to 12 first, walked in and looked around. There was no one there. He went next door, rapped quickly, and walked in without waiting for an acknowledgment.
The sight that met his eyes would have shocked most husbands, but not Jeff. He grinned and dropped into a chair.
Lupita was shocked, however, by his sudden appearance. She let out a cry and attempted to get up, but she couldn't get her head out of the tent of pussy-flesh that Sophia had erected.
Sophia, being on top, looked Jeff's way and smiled. "We had to do something to relieve our boredom."
"Is that what you're relieving?" he asked, amused.
Lupita cried, "Meesus Bardell! Let me get up!"
"There, there, sweet," Sophia crooned, bending her head quickly. She resumed kissing the voluptuous brunette's slit.
Lupita twisted against the kiss for a few moments and then surrendered. But she turned her own head a little so she could look at Jeff instead of Sophia's bright pink gash.
He wiggled his fingers at her and said, "Hi."
"Meester Bardell, I'm sorry, I..."
"Shut up and make my wife happy," he told her.
Slowly she twisted her head back to position and Jeff saw her little red tongue flicking up at Sophia's clit.
Jeff got up and walked around the bed so as to examine the scene from all angles. It was interesting. He hadn't watched his wife sixty-nine with another woman in quite a while.
Finally he sat down near Lupita's feet. She was twisting again, her thighs weaving this way and that as Sophia's kisses grew hotter. Jeff concentrated on the darkness of Lupita's charms, the plumpness of her buttocks where they met her thighs, the fullness of the quivering thighs themselves.
His cock began to respond. He was a little slow in this respect because he had been expending himself rather freely during the last couple of days, but a man with any sex in him at all could hardly sit by for very long without saluting the wanton exposure and even more wanton activity that was taking place on the bed.
Jeff's cock saluted, and his trousers became uncomfortable for him.
Lupita was now in the throes of intense passionate agitation as Sophia's head bobbed in short motions, her sleek back arched like a bow. Lupita was kissing hungrily, too, but Jeff could not observe this without craning his neck out of shape, and he found more interest in gazing at the warm juncture of Lupita's thighs as her pelvis pumped against the stimulation she was receiving and her knees swayed this way and that.
Finally Lupita began convulsing under Sophia's intensification of the act, and the two women shuddered and clung together, thighs to head, hands to buttocks.
Sophia got off and Lupita sat up, her lipstick smeared, her eyes wider than usual. She stared at Jeff's smiling face a moment, then clawed at part of the bedclothes and pulled them around her, covering her face as well as her body.
Jeff laughed.
"Lupe, darling," Sophia scolded. "Don't be like that. Here. Get rid of the covers." Sophia tugged them away.
Lupita was blushing furiously.
Sophia stood beside the bed" and told her husband, "You screw her now."
Lupita released a little cry.
"She doesn't want me," Jeff said, twisting in his chair. The fact that he wanted her was painfully evident to him and would have been evident to both women if he had stood up.
"Nonsense," Sophia retorted. "Lupe, now behave yourself. Jeff watched you and me. It's only fair that I should have a chance to watch him and you."
"Yes, Lupe," Jeff added. "Fair's fair. You can see that."
"Meester Bardell!" she cried.
The poor girl was having difficulty adjusting herself to their sexual amorality and to the demands they were making of her. He felt a little sorry for her. But the only cure for her condition was deeper and more prolonged immersion in their way of life. This had worked with their last maid, a cute German named Helga. Unfortunately she had found herself a boy friend on the outside and had left the Bardells' service to get married. Jeff imagined that her new husband was a very happy young man since he was reaping the benefits of everything Jeff and Sophia had taught his wife.
Jeff stood up and began to strip.
Sophia, remaining naked, took a chair close to the bed. Lupita, still wide-eyed, stared at the gradual unveiling of Jeff's wiry form. She glanced several times at Sophia as if she couldn't comprehend how a wife could sit by and permit such a thing as this. But Lupita made no attempt to get off the bed. She wanted to keep her job which involved no work at all now that the
Bardells were away from home-and, more important yet, she did not want to be sent back to
Mexico. Jeff also suspected that he and his wife were in the process of winning her over. He took satisfaction in this. It had been his experience that even the most die-hard puritans (and Lupita was not one of these) could be won over to a life of so-called sinful pleasure without much strain on anyone's part, provided everything was confidential and assuming that the person's libido was not completely atrophied through lack of use.
Lupita's libido was a beauty.
Nude and fully erect, Jeff climbed onto the bed and adjusted the legs of the stunned Mexican girl.
He positioned himself between them, then backed up slightly so that his cock was slightly below her pussy, while his face was even with Lupe's high mounding tits.
He grasped one soft globe and directed the nipple to his lips. It was more red than brown now, and it was peg-like in form and rigidity. He caressed it with his lips, sliding them back and forth along its length.
Sophia watched interestedly as he shifted his kisses to the other large breast and surrounded the first one with his long, tapering fingers. He squeezed that as he toyed at the other. After a time he buried his face in her cleavage and rubbed the flesh against the bristling beard on his cheeks.
She grasped him about the head to pull him back to her still wet nipples.
He kissed even more passionately now and let his attentions range from her breasts down across her middle and onto her soft plump belly, just above the hairline. When he was entirely ready to proceed with the final phase and was convinced that Lupita was ready, too, he propelled himself forward with his hands against the bed at either side of her, and his steel-hard cock found its way into her slick tunnel without manual guidance from either of them.
He began to fuck her in long expert lunges that rubbed her clit exactly right and set off an immediate gyrating response from her. The innerspring mattress made a sound like a bellows and the bed frame creaked slightly. The springs worked soundlessly. The thought crossed Jeff's mind that in a motel perhaps the maids were instructed to oil them at regular intervals.
"Great, darling!" Sophia exclaimed. "I've never seen you practice better technique."
"Thanks," Jeff said between heavy breaths.
He speeded up with her, rocketing now. Sophia cried, "Wheel" followed by something else, but he paid no attention. Every bit of his interest was concentrated on the turgid missile of his own cock, and the warm, sleek pussy of Lupita.
H� felt her legs come up and clamp around his back tightly. Her pelvis was fucking with feverish excitement, and then she was coming as he kept driving. His release followed hers, prompted by her frantically clutching cunt muscles grasping him and wringing him out with her orgasm.
Later, when he and Sophia were alone in their room, he asked, "Did you have much trouble persuading Lupita to play Lez with you?"
She resisted a little. But the poor girl's at our mercy. She has to do what we say." "Hell of a spot for a person to be in."
"I rather like it ... from my side. Say, her boobs are terrific, aren't they? Just don't spoil her for my sixty-nine sessions with her." "It didn't look as if I had, not the way she was eating you out when I got there." Then he.changed the subject and said, "I've got bad news, Sophia. We're going to have to hang in here for a while." "Oh, no..."
"Sorry. It can't be helped. If I don't, Dad will disinherit me. After he kicks off, I can put somebody else in charge of the company and get out."
"Just because you have to stay, that doesn't mean I do," Sophia suggested.
"Yes, it does. I want you here. And I don't see any reason why we should camp out in a motel when we can stay in the family mansion. Dad will be at the hospital."
"All right," Sophia sighed. "If that's the way it has to be."
"We'll move in the morning." He crossed and gave her a peck on the cheek. "Now let's shower and get dressed," he added. "It's almost time for dinner."
They showered together, which was a frequent exercise with them, but this time they merely washed one another. Both were pretty well sexed out.
Anyway, Jeff was thinking about the Bardell
Paper Company and the fact that he would have to go through the motions, at least, of taking charge of it. He had a lot of reading to do tonight, and tomorrow was destined to be a day that would test hismettle.
Chapter 5
The company plant was located at the north end of town. The offices were housed in a rambling two-story structure at the front, while the factory and warehouses comprised the remainder of the forty-acre site, along with wood storage yards and parking lots for the employees.
Sixty-five percent of the adult population of Cannon Oaks worked there, and many persons commuted from nearby towns and the rural areas in between. Whatever happened to the Bardell Company would have a vital bearing on the economic barometer of the whole region.
The first man Jeff met, after Bunyan had pulled his white Continental to a stop on the visitor's lot and the two men had proceeded to the executive's offices, was Norman Kelly, a carrot-haired, bespectacled man of about thirty-eight who held the title of General Manager.
Kelly was about as unfriendly as a long-time executive employee might have been expected to be when the big boss' ne'er-do-well son showed up to assume command. Sullen was the word to describe his attitude. But Jeff's father had praised him highly, and Bunyan had agreed that Kelly was the man for Jeff to work closely with until Jeff got the feel of things.
As they sat in Kelly's redwood paneled office and discussed some of the rudimentary points of the company's operations, Jeff yearned to get a feel of the manager's secretary who stood at her boss' side and every once in a while bent over the desk to find something for him in one of the many files stacked there.
Jeff's chair was perfectly situated to give him a down-the-cleavage slant on her charms when she bent forward. Either the secretary wore a very loose bra or none at aU beneath her bulky knitted blouse, because her white breasts hung like plump bell clappers, and the two top buttons of her blouse were undone so as to furnish a view which stopped just short of indecency. In other respects, the girl seemed quite ordinary, except that she was tall and had what appeared to be good legs. Her hair was dark brown and drawn into a rather unattractive bun. She wore little makeup. Her ass was lacking in any particular appeal, in spite of the fact that her dress fit closely and she did not seem to be girdled.
She had given Jeff a little smile when they were introduced, but outside of that had indicated no interest in him whatever. Still there was the way she had positioned herself directly opposite his chair before she began bending forward. Perhaps this was pure coincidence, but she could not have been ignorant of the crotch-shot she was giving him.
It was agreed that Jeff would occupy his father's old office, which was adjacent to Kelly's suite. His father's secretary, a prune-faced spinster, had been kept on while the elder Bardell was in the hospital, but Jeff informed Kelly, as soon as the secretary had left them alone in Jeff's office, that he wanted someone else.
"What for?" Kelly asked. "Miss Watson has been with the company for twenty-five years."
"And looks it," Jeff added. "I want someone has more . . . uh, pizazz."
"Pizazz?"
"Sex-appeal, Kelly! Miss Watson's boobs are like squeezed lemons, and I've never seen a woman's ass more straight up and down. Even your secretary has more in back than that."
"I don't see what a secretary's rear has to do with anything," Kelly stated. "You don't? Well, I feel sorry for you.
Incidentally, how's your girl in the sack?"
"You mean in bed?"
"Yes, unless you do your banging on top oi desk."
"Miss Dobbins doesn't bang," he said huffily "At least, I don't bang her. I'm a married man Bardell."
"So am I, and I never figured marriage was synonymous with walking death."
Kelly looked at him as one might regard a small boy scrawling dirty words on a fence.
"Anyway, I want a new secretary," Jeff instructed. "What have you got?"
"Well, there's a pool. I suppose you can choose someone from that."
"How are the pickings? You know what's there and I don't."
"I'm sure I wouldn't be able to advise you," Kelly said. "We seem to have different ideas about a secretary's qualifications."
Jeff stared at him for a moment. Then he picked up the telephone on the stand beside his chair and buzzed for Miss Watson.
"Do we have office boys in this place?" he asked her.
"Of course, Mister Bardell."
"Well, get hold of one of them and send him in here, will you?"
"What's that for?" Kelly asked suspiciously.
"Wait and see," Jeff told him.
When a tentative rapping sounded at the door. Jeff called, "Come in." The door opened and a tow-headed nineteen-year-old approached his desk. "What's your name?" Jeff asked.
"Lee, sir. Lee Bitsky."
"All right, Lee, I need some advice."
"From me, Mister Bardell?"
"From you."
The kid looked flabbergasted.
You know the chicks in the secretarial pool.
"Yeah. Sure, Mister Bardell." "Okay. Now, suppose you were in my place and could have your pick of the lot which one would you choose for a private secretary? Be honest, now."
"Bardell!" Kelly protested. Jeff ignored him and prompted Lee, "Go ahead.
Tell me."
Lee reddened slightly and said, "Well, I guess it depends on what a man happens to like."
"What do you like?" "In a girl, you mean?" "I don't mean in a walrus." "Gosh, Mister Bardell, I don't think there's anything better than a pair of big luscious ..." He glanced at Kelly and lost his voice. "Were you going to say boobs?" Jeff asked.
"Well, not exactly," Lee stammered, "but it means the same thing."
"Okay. So bring me the boobiest girl in the pool. I mean, if she's not a beast in other respects, You pick the one you'd like, then tell her I want to see her right away."
"Yes, sir, Mister Bardell," the youth said eagerly and left the office.
'That was disgraceful," Kelly said. "If you're going to deal with the personnel that way, you're going to have no end of trouble."
"Kelly, why don't you get back to your own work? I'll call you if I need you." The manager, shocked by Jeff's abrupt dismissal, remained rooted to the floor for a few moments, redness, creeping forward from his ears until it had suffused his entire face. Then, without a word, he turned and strode to the connecting door between the offices. He pulled the door hard behind him. Jeff took a handful of paper clips from the center drawer of his father's desk, leaned back in his father's deeply upholstered leather chair, and amused himself by tossing clips at the waste basket. He scored about one hit out of four, which he figured was a pretty fair average considering the distance.
Someone knocked at the door, and he said "Come in."
She did, carefully closing the door behind her. She approached Jeff's desk.
"I was told you wanted to see me, Mister Bardell."
His gaze began at the top of her head and slowly meandered down until he was staring at the black pointed toes of her shoes. "Turn around," he said a trifle huskily. She gave him a surprised look, but she turned. His gaze now climbed from the elevated backs of her shoes up until he was looking at her brunette hair again.
He said, mostly to himself, "Remind me to give Lee a raise."
"I beg your pardon, Mister Bardell?" she asked, turning to face him.
He cleared his throat and said, "Never mind."
She was not merely beautiful. And to say that she was sexy would have been like saying a blast furnace at U.S. Steel was warm. She was also young. Jeff guessed she was only a year out of high school.
"Sit down, dear," he said.
When she moved toward a chair directly in front of his desk, and too close to afford him the view he wanted, he said, "No. Take this one over here." He indicated the chair beside his desk, which was pointed directly toward him with nothing between.
She took it, crossing her legs with the sibilant sound of nylon rubbing against nylon. Her skirt was short. She was long-legged. Jeff stared. finally he lifted his eyes to hers, which were clear and deep and dark velvet-blue. He asked, how would you like to be my secretary, darling?"
"Oh, Mister Bardell!"
"Would you?" "I certainly would!"
He smiled and fingered his chin as he let his eyes glance over her once more. "Well now," he said, "that just might be possible. What's your name?" "Diane, sir. Diane Garner." "How much do you make, Diane?"
"Two hundred and sixty dollars a month." He picked up his inter-office phone and buzzed
Miss Watson, keeping his eyes on Diane all the time
"Miss Watson, how much is your salary?" "What, Mister Bardell?" "Your salary. How much money do you make here?"
"Well, with my last raise, Mister Bardell, it comes to six hundred and fifty dollars a month." "Six-fifty, eh?" He watched Diane's deep blue eyes widen.
"That's based on twenty-five years' service," Miss Watson pointed out.
"Yes. I understand. Thank you." He hung up the phone.
"From two-sixty to six-fifty," he mused aloud, continuing to watch Diane. "That's a difference of two-and-a-half times, I believe." "Oh, Mister Bardell!" The girl was so choked up she could hardly speak.
"Stand up again, darling, will you?" She uncrossed her legs and stood. Her face was slightly flushed and her eyes were dancing. He now scrutinized her very carefully, taking much more time than before and being deliberately obvious in his inventory. She was tall-five-eight, he judged. Her dress was a coral-colored, two-piece knit, and it fit with breath-taking precision. Her howitzer shell breasts did not merely thrust forward; they soared. Her hips and buttocks looked as if they had been formed by a master sculptor who'd had a lifetime to devote to the project. Her thighs, beneath the close-fitting skirt, hinted at exquisite delights. Her knees were smooth. Her calves swelled just enough. Her ankles were delicately slender. Her face radiated youthful freshness. Her features were pretty: nose straight, lips plump, skin clear, eyes like bottomless pools. Her hair was almost jet-black. And with it all there was the indefinable quality that men looked for above and beyond all others. This girl had it to an abundant degree. Sexy? She was more than that. Just for curiosity. Jeff would have liked to know the temperature inside her panties.
"May, I . . . uh, sit down, Mister Bardell?" She was getting nervous.
He smiled. "No. I don't believe so, dear. Not quite yet. So you want the job? You'd like that six hundred and fifty dollars a month?"
"Oh, yes!"
"How badly do you want it?"
"So badly I can taste it, sir."
"Indeed." He smiled again.
"Do you believe I'm . . . qualified?"
"Well, that's the one thing I'm not sure of, Diane. You're certainly attractive enough, and I think that's a very important factor for an executive's secretary. You're young . . . but I have nothing against youth. I presume your shorthand and typing are up to par. So that leaves just one point I'm a little in doubt about."
"What's that, sir?"
"Well, let me give you an illustration. One thing I certainly would require in a girl is the ability to take everything in stride. In other words, she would not fluster easily." "Oh, I don't fluster, sir." "You don't?" "Certainly not. I can handle difficult situations of all kinds. I never get upset." "Mmm."
A perverted idea came to him. At first he had intended to take the girl himself-to spread her on the wide, fawn, leather couch at the side of the room, or perhaps to plunk her squarely in the middl'e of the lime green carpet. That, he had felt, would be a fitting qualification test. He believed that she would not refuse, considering the two hundred-fifty percent raise he was dangling in front of her
But Jeff was a somewhat jaded man. Straight sex, even with a new girl who was something of a goddess, had lost a lot of its appeal through the years. He preferred to devise some little quirk, unless there was a pre-existing one built into the nature of the girl or the situation.
He was thinking of a particularly interesting one now.
He asked Diane, "How do you like Lee Bitsky, dear?" "Who?"
"The office boy."
"You mean the one you sent to get me?" "Yes." "Well, I've never thought of him much, one way or the other." "You haven't?"
"I didn't even know his name," she said with an embarrassed smile.
"Mmm. I'm going to offer you a little test, my dear. If you pass it, you will get Miss Watson's job, but not at six hundred and fifty dollars a month. I'll boost that to seven hundred."
She gasped and, girlishly, her hands came together in front of her. He thought for a moment she was going to jump for joy.
"I must warn you, though-the test is an extreme one. If it shocks you, if you become too flustered to carry it out, I will know you're not the girl for the job. Oh, there are a couple of points of information I require first. I hope you won't mind."
By now he had her completely off balance. She had no idea what he was getting at, but she was determined to do everything possible to satisfy him and thereby claim the choice job.
"Of course, I won't mind," she said. "I told you I don't get flustered."
"Very well. Point one-are you a virgin?"
Her mouth opened but she didn't speak.
"Are you a virgin, darling?" he repeated.
"Well*. . . no. But I don't see ... "
He held up a hand for silence. "Point two," he said. "Do you take the pill?"
"I don't see what that has to do with ..." She was coloring brightly.
"Ah-ah, Diane. You're getting a little flustered."
"I am not," she maintained stoutly, trying to pull herself together.
"Answer the question, sweetie," he prompted.
"Very well, I'm engaged." She flashed a diamond he hadn't noticed before. He had been too busy sizing up her figure. "We're not in a position to get married just yet, so naturally I have to be careful."
"Of course you do." He beamed.
"I still don't see what that has to do with a job as your secretary."
"You don't? Really?"
"Are you saying, Mister Bardell, that you expect your secretary to go to bed with you?"
"Not necessarily. But I expect her to be broad-minded enough to do so if the whim should strike me."
Is that what governs your sex life-whims?"
She seemed to be getting a little angry and he was afraid he might be wasting his time, but he was not a man to give up prematurely.
"Oh, always," he said in reply to her question. "Does that shock you?"
"I guess not," she said shifting her weight from one foot to the other. He had deliberately made her remain standing because of the psychological advantage it gave him.
And are you the sort of girl who would automatically write off any possibility of having sex with a man in the office-a boss or whatever-merely because you're not in love with him?"
"Well ..." She was blushing furiously. "Are you? I have to know, dear. This is a key point."
"I guess not," she said finally. He beamed and picked up the telephone at his side. "Miss Watson," he ordered, "find that Bitsky boy and send him in here again." He hung up.
"Mister Bardell," the girl murmured, leaning forward. "You're not saying that you expect me to. . to make love with . . . with that office boy, are you?"
He clucked his tongue. "There. You see? You're flustered."
"I am not flustered!" she almost screamed. "Well, you certainly seem to be. And I couldn't stand to have a secretary who allowed a little thing like this to upset her."
"Little thing? Sex isn't a little thing, Mister
Bardell."
He sighed and looked at her sadly. "Mister Bardell," she said, walking around his desk and standing directly beside his chair, "I'll do anything within reason. I'll be a good secretary. I'll work hard."
"Pine. Pine. What I have in mind is very reasonable, I believe. As a test. I admit that it's extreme, but I expect a lot of the girl who works directly for me."
She stood still, her gorgeous breasts rising and falling. He could almost feel the heat emanating from her pussy.
"I'll tell you what," he added. "Why don't we make that salary an even eight hundred? How would that be? And I give you my promise that if you pass this test with flying colors, the job is yours."
"Mister Bardell, I simply don't know what to say."
"Either you meet the qualifications or you don," he told her. "If you don't, I'll shop around for someone who will."
She was experiencing a torment. He could almost imagine her standing on a bed of hot coals and trying not to move her feet.
He reached out, placed his hand at the outer side of her right knee, and slid his hand upward on her warm thigh. She quivered but did not jump. His hand slid off the sleek stocking- top and onto the bare flesh of her thigh. He held her there for a few moments, his fingers teasing over her panties' crotch, her skirt and slip bunched against his arm, and he looked up into her eyes.
"Mister Bardell," she whimpered, "you're a bad man."
"Granted," he said with a laugh, pulling his hand away. "If the free enjoyment of sex is bad. Otherwise, I might be considered very good indeed. How many executives would offer eight hundred dollars a month to a secretary just barely out of high school with practically no experience? I would say that's very generous."
A knock sounded at the door.
"Well?" he asked. "I wouldn't want to embarrass Lee. Are you prepared to go through with this, or aren't you?"
She worked her lush lips, moistened them with a red tongue and swallowed.
"Well?" he repeated sharply.
"Where?" she asked. "I live at home. I don't have any place to take him."
"And probably Lee lives at home, too, wouldn't you say?"
"I suppose so."
"A motel is out," Jeff mused aloud. "That would cause talk. Well, there's just one solution. You'll have to do it right here."
"Here?"
"Here and now," he said firmly. "And I'm going to watch."
Her face grew redder and he had the impression of mercury climbing high in a thermometer. What happened when the pressure exceeded the capacity for which the thermometer was built? It exploded. He realized he was risking a very hard slap across his face.
"Think of yourself as an actress in a porno movie," he said. "They don't draw the line at anything, and there are always lots of people on the set."
"They make more than eight hundred dollars a month, too," was her surprising answer.
He laughed. "Don't bargain with me, darling. Eight hundred is tops. Now be a good little girl and sit in that chair." He called, "Come in, Lee!"
The youth had no idea what to expect. This was the most stimulating psychological factor in the situation. Diane knew, and Jeff had satisfied himself that she would go through with what he was demanding. But Lee was totally unprepared for what might turn out to be one of the most exciting experiences of his entire life.
Lee took two steps into the room and his gaze moved tentatively from Jeff to Diane. It stuck there. Her legs were crossed, with her skirt well above her thighs, and the young man's eyes probed right into her crotch. More quickly than he would have liked, no doubt, he had to pull his gaze away and direct it at the important man behind the desk. Diane was nervous, but her color had quieted down a bit.
Jeff said, "Close the door, Lee."
"Oh. Yeah. FnVsorry."
He turned and closed it, then faced Jeff again, once more letting his gaze touch Diane on the way.
"Do you know Diane, Lee?"
"Sure. I mean, I know who she is."
"But you two have never been formally introduced, have you?"
"No. I guess not." He laughed uneasily. He was wondering what this was all about.
"Well . . . Diane Garner, Lee Bitsky. Diane, give Lee a kiss."
This time .it was Lee's turn to get red. He did, quickly. He tried to laugh, but the laugh petered out almost as soon as his eyes crinkled. He gulped. He was looking at Jeff as if he wondered whether the big boss had gone off his rocker.
But Diane stood up and crossed to where Lee was standing. Without hesitation, she pressed against him and tilted her face to the side. She hardly had to tilt it upward at all because she was almost as tall as Lee.
She kissed him.
Lee didn't take hold of her. His hands lifted part way and sort of stuck out to the sides, the fingers wiggling.
Diane backed up.
Lee grinned all over as he blushed furiously.
He looked at Jeff and laughed, "Hey, Mister
Bardell, what the dickens is this?"
"Well, Lee, I'll tell you. You've heard of coffee breaks, right? You probably have a couple every day."
"Yeah. Sure." He was still excited and completely off stride.
"This is a sex break," Jeff went on. "I'm making you a present of Diane for the next twenty minutes or so."
"You gotta be kiddin'!" Lee exclaimed.
"No, I'm not." He glanced at Diane and asked, "Am I, dear?"
"Mister Bardell," was all she said, in a tone that would have gone well with, How could you?
"Tell Lee," he instructed. "Tell him he can fuck you, dear."
This was the crucial point-the last hurdle the scheme had to vault. Once Diane said this, Jeff could sit back and enjoy this show.
He felt very much like a zoo caretaker throwing a succulent piece of meat to a hungry young wolf.
Diane raised her eyes to Lee with apparent difficulty. She was blushing again. Lee kept swallowing against the lump in his throat as he returned her gaze, and Jeff could not help but notice the fact that Lee was getting a hard-on.
"Go ahead, Diane," Jeff commanded. "Tell him."
"You can make love to me, Lee," she said.
"Aw, no," Lee said hoarsely, "you don't mean it." But he obviously was hoping against hope that she did.
"You mean it, don't you, Diane?" Jeff prompted.
"Yes," the girl said. "I mean it. I want you to screw me!"
Lee leaned forward as if he were about to lunge, then he stopped. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. He turned a tortured face toward Jeff.
"What the dickens do you expect me to do, Mister Bardell?" he bawled.
"Take her," Jeff replied calmly. "Here. Now. On that couch."
"But golly!"
"Yes, Lee?"
"You're here."
"So? Conditions are never ideal. The thing to do is to make the most of circumstances as they arise. The ability to do that represents the worth of a man. Go ahead, Lee. I won't bother you."
He had set it up. Now everything was in the hands of the two young people. Jeff guessed that neither of them was over nineteen. If all went well, he was about to observe sex enacted as innocently as was possible in nature's scheme.
Lee gave him a long anguished look. Diane looked at Lee. She was resolved to go through with it. When Lee turned to her and their eyes met, he could not hold back.
He went to her and pulled her into his arms. This time he embraced her tightly and kissed her with raging passion, obviously using his tongue and drinking in her saliva. Diane reciprocated. Her body mashed against his. One of Lee's hands slid down her back and fanned across her rounded buttocks. He pulled her buttocks more firmly to him, compressing the pliant flesh.
Now there was no stopping either of them. Diane became as involved as Lee. He led her quickly to a position beside the couch and, as Jeff watched, she began to take off her clothes while Lee also stripped.
It was like a stag movie come to life-except that Jeff had never seen such a beautiful woman in such a film.
The full impact of Diane's beauty was just now getting through to him as she drew off her knitted pullover, making her breasts quiver in her bra as she pulled cloth past them, then as she let down the elasticized waist of her skirt.
Her underthings were nude-colored, and both bra and slip had pretty white lace appliques. Lee was staring at her even as he wrestled with his own clothes. He glanced at Jeff a couple of times in embarrassment, but desire was a much stronger force in his young body. The extent of his desire became fully visible when he staggered to pull off a pantleg, his knit briefs proved unequal to the strain his fully erect cock put upon them. Diane looked up to see the total exposure of Lee's admirably large cock.
Her lower lip quivered and she seemed to move faster. Her slip came down in a wink, and Jeff admired her full, smooth thighs which were bare above her stocking tops. Her panties fit like a second skin of silk.
The popping of her bra provided a tremendous thrill. Though Jeff had seen hundreds of pairs of naked boobs in his time, he couldn't remember any that were so huge and full, yet so upstanding. They stuck almost straight out in front of her, as if they were being held by invisible strings. Her nipples were big and red, fully distended though they had not yet been touched.
She sat down to remove her stockings and shoes, then stood up and faced the other way to strip off her panties. Her buttocks were round and tight and taut. Lee was staring. She hardly had time to rid herself of her garter belt before he was literally upon her, forcing her down on her back on the couch, one leg going up next to the wall and the other hanging to the carpeted floor.
Lee kissed her breasts. Diane had her eyes closed and she twisted her shoulders, causing her full breasts to roll against Lee's kisses.
Jeff watched and became massively aroused. He had wanted a different kind of kick and he was having it, but it was not a kick that was going to produce his own release. It was going to leave him up in the air unless he insisted on taking seconds from the beautiful Diane. He didn't want to do that. Physically, of course, his desire could not be questioned, but in a deeper way he felt he would not be proud of himself if he were to force Diane to accept him as well as Lee . . . assuming, of course, that Lee satisfied her.
Lee's kisses were all over her nipples-rolling and pulling at them, almost as if to harm the throbbing red tips-and then, without taking time to kiss her anywhere else, he sprang on top of her. His hand held his cock as he searched for the opening of her cunt. He found it finally, slipped into position, and pressed.
Diane whined and her upraised leg clamped down around his back.
He began to move wildly, fiercely-much too fast for the beginning, Jeff thought. He took heart over the possibility that Lee might prove unequal to the demands of his partner's ravenous young body and that Diane might be more than happy to have Jeff himself spring to fill the void which Lee was apt to desert prematurely.
But this didn't happen.
Lee proved that, young as he was, he had staying power. He was a man who could start fast, stay fast, and see his woman quake and shiver with ecstasy before he delivered his final stroke.
Diane was moving wildly now as his cock plunged relentlessly in and out of her sex-slick vagina. Her mouth was open wide. Her hair was tossing. Her dark-shadowed eyelids were closed. Her breasts quivered like perfect mounds of Jell-O as Lee gave himself to her in a rocking, socking rhythm which was being accepted eagerly and in perfect tempo by her bouncing cunt.
She began to make anguished little sounds and Jeff knew she was just about there.
He was telling Lee silently, Finish now! Leave her hanging! Get soft and leave her twisting and panting in anguish!
But Lee didn't do anything of the kind.
Diane moved her pelvis and he moved his cock faster. Her cries grew louder and more passionately excited. Her heels drummed the backs of his thighs. His hips fucked wildly.
Suddenly Diane lifted and tightened and released an open-throated cry. Lee growled viciously and slammed his prick into her several final times. Their bodies quaked and pressed together, shuddering mightily.
Gradually the dual climax ebbed and both partners spent several moments kissing and murmuring. Jeff took out his handkerchief and mopped his forehead, even though the office was air-conditioned. The couple on the couch were blissfully satisfied and at ease, but his cock was throbbing and in a state of almost painful arousal.
He turned his chair away from the sight of them. He didn't want to watch them disengage from one another and arise to put on their clothes. He had to calm himself, because right now the most important thing in the world was for him to get out of that office and head for the mansion at the top of the hill where he had been raised. His father wouldn't be there, but his wife and/or Lupita would. He didn't care which one of them would greet him. Whichever it was, he would act first and speak later.
He glanced quickly at his watch. It was nearly lunch time. That would make his departure seem appropriate.
He stared at the blank wall and began counting from one hundred backward. But the stirring vision of Lee on top of Diane, driving deep into her lovely pussy kept registering in his mind. Finally he succeeded in chasing that out, only to have it replaced by the vision of his naked wife standing beside a naked, bust-heavy Lupita. His cock continued to throb, demanding a release which was not at hand and which would not even be possible unless he calmed down sufficiently to walk out of there,.
Finally the backward counting achieved its purpose and, by the time Lee and Diane were dressed, he was able to arise and walk to the door.
"Go to lunch, kids," he growled at them. "Afterward I want to see you, Diane."
"Yes, sir," she murmured.
He thought as he headed through his outer office about poor Miss Watson. But it couldn't be helped. He wasn't, after all, running a charitable institution. If an old employee didn't have what it took to please him, that was too bad. The old had to make way for the new.
Kelly, who was just returning from the men's room, sought to stop him in the hall to discuss some business matter. "Not now," Jeff snapped, and thrust his general manager aside. There were more important things to take care of.
Chapter 6
Jeff's nuts ached as he drove a company car up the mountainside and around the circular driveway in front of the old gabled mansion that had been home to him during the first seventeen years of his life.
There was nothing sentimental about his frame of mind as he approached it. He was a man on the way to put the blocks to either Sophia or Lupita, whichever he saw first.
He stopped the car at the front door and vaulted out. He lunged through the front door and paused. He heard something. Where?
He decided it was upstairs and it sounded like furniture scraping across the floor.
He took the stairs two at a time and, at the top landing, turned in the direction of the sound. It, was in his old bedroom-the one he had occupied as a child.
The door was open and he rushed to it. Lupita was there. She had just pushed the bed aside and was bending forward, picking some dust balls off the carpet. The place had apparently not been cleaned for some time, and Lupe, either on her own volition or under the instructions of Sophia, had donned her maid's uniform and was taking care of that chore.
Without uttering a word, Jeff lunged and pushed her forward so that she fell halfway across the old-fashioned high feather bed. She cried out in shock and turned her head to see who was upon her.
"Easy does it, baby," Jeff growled, pulling her back a little so that the edge of the mattress hit right at the juncture of her legs and torso. He flipped up her skirt and slip.
"Ay, por Dios!" Lupita squealed, but she didn't fight him. She knew better than to do that.
He gathered her pink nylon panties in his hands at both sides of her hips and pulled them down, denuding her bottom. He pushed them along her thighs, past her knees, down her calves, and off. Then he spread her legs.
"Open the top of your dress and unhook your bra," he ordered as he tore off his own clothes.
"Meester Bardeil," she cried. "I cannot do thees! I am not ready!"
"You'll get ready soon enough," he told her and moved up.
The height of the bed, with Lupita's voluptuous pussy atop it, was exactly right for a standing man. He pinched one plump buttock in each hand, between his thumb and extended fingers. He wiggled the buttocks around, rubbing them against one another, and watched what he was doing. His cock came up quickly.
He couldn't remember when he had such congestion in his balls, crying for release.
He moved close to her and leaned forward, running his hands inside her loosened clothes and to the front where her body pressed against the bed.
"Prop yourself on your elbows," he directed harshly.
She obeyed.
He filled each hand with a glorious suspended breast. He squeezed them and slapped them against one another. He rolled and pulled at the nipples, bringing them out.
"Oh, thees ees crazy!" Lupita exclaimed.
"Sure. Crazy. But it's going to be doggie-style good . . . for both of us."
He took his right hand away from her breasts and used it to guide his cock. He traced the head of his cock down the length of her buttocks, then pressed a little at the opening of her cunt.
"No! No!" Lupita was twisting to try to evade him.
"Don't worry, baby," he told her.
And he plunged forward until he was all the way in. Placing both hands at her hips now, to lift her just right, he began thrusting in and out for all he was worth.
"Ay, chihuahua!" Lupita exclaimed as he possessed her wholly.
The exercise that followed was long and vigorously thrilling for both of them as Lupita twisted and pressed backward, her feet planted flat against the floor to hold her buttocks high, and Jeff stabbed and rotated and stabbed some more while his hands caressed up underneath her rumpled skirt and in through the open back of her dress to reach the dangling delights of her forty-two inch bust.
He bounced himself off her buttocks as if they were large rubber balls and he grunted as the pressure within him grew to an almost unbearable height. His mind was still inflamed with the sight of Lee fucking Diane, and this added to the excitement furnished by the lush woman who was bent forward in front of him.
He drove harder, his balls slapping into her buttocks, absorbing shock after shock.
"Ah ... ah ... ah," Lupita began to cry.
He took his hands away from her tits and began, pulling her against him, rocking her over the side of the bed as he worked with demonic concentration.
Finally he exploded in a cataclysmic release. He shuddered once, twice, three times and then was still. He fell forward onto her back, panting hard.
Only then did he realize that she hadn't come with him. He had taken his hand away from her clitoris just when she had needed it most.
He pulled back and rolled her over, boosting her at the same time so that she was completely on the bed. He bent his face down to her crotch as she moaned and whimpered with frustration.
He tickled her clitoris with his lips while his hands squeezed her breasts rhythmically. He pinched and rolled the nipples as he squeezed.
She didn't require much eating before her pussy began heaving spastically as she swung her legs up over his back. She finished ecstatically.
He untangled her heavy legs, lifted them down, and stood up.
Her hair was mussed and partly matted with sweat. Her mouth was open,, her eyes closed. She was panting, which caused her lush breasts to rise and fall. Her well-spent sex organs were utterly exposed with her legs parted and hanging over the side of the bed.
Jeff took a good long look at her glistening gash as he restored his clothes. She was a lot of woman.
"Here," he said, holding out a hand.
She opened her eyes and looked at him.
"Come to bed with me, Meester Bardell," she murmured. "There are many hours remaining in the day."
He bent and picked her pink panties from the floor. He tossed them onto her lap.
"Lupita, after this when I'm fucking you, don't call me Mister Bardell. That sounds stupid."
"All right, Mees ... I mean, Jeff."
"Not now, darling," he scolded. "Just when I'm loving you."
"Oh."
He walked to the mirror, looked at himself, and ran his hand over his head to put his hair back in place. "You don't think you could rustle up some lunch, do you?" he asked Lupita as she started for the bathroom.
"I weel if you can wait."
"Okay. But don't be too long. I have to get back to the office. There's a company to run."
Chapter 7
"I just talked with the hospital." Kelly announced as Jeff entered his office after lunch. "Your father is about the same."
"So what else is new?" Jeff asked, smiling. He dropped into the chair beside his general manager's desk.
"You're making it very difficult for me to like you," Kelly said.
"You don't have to. I'm one of those rare individuals who doesn't require the approval of his fellow man. I learned, when I was very young, that there is only one person on earth who's important to me. I am that person. As long as I please myself, that's all that matters."
Kelly was obviously shocked.
"Very well," Kelly said, straightening a stack of documents in front of him. "We have a problem. I mean to say, the company has a problem. If you don't feel you are ready to jump in with both feet, just say so, but this is the sort of matter your father would want referred to him if he were in charge."
"I'm as ready as I'll ever be," Jeff replied, cocking his feet on the other man's desk. "Shoot."
Kelly let his lips curl in disdain.
"The problem, briefly stated, is that we've been working on a new process for combining paper pulp with certain synthetic ingredients to create a cellophane that will be strong and rigid, yet easy to tear. There's a demand for such a product to be used as a packaging material, to display articles for sale in stores. The materials available now are either too flexible and flimsy or are too hard for the customer to tear open after he has bought the product. Understand?"
Jeff nodded. Kelly's superior tone and manner amused him.
"Our research and development division has reported that their work has hit a snag. They have come up with a product which has considerable strength and it does tear, but they haven't licked the cost factor. The process is too expensive to be competitive."
"I see."
"A policy decision is called for. Should we continue with our efforts to develop this new material, which we call Glu-Pane, or should we take a new tack entirely?"
"What do you think, Kelly?"
"Quite frankly, I don't know . . . yet. I thought that perhaps you would want to take over and make the decision. Your father would if he were here."
Kelly sat back and looked at him with a twinkle in his eyes. It was obvious he believed he had put Jeff on the spot.
"Have the head of the research come and see me," Jeff said, standing up. He headed for the connecting door between their offices.
"Shall I sit in?" Kelly asked.
"No need. I'll let you know as soon as I decide anything."
He found Diane waiting in his office.
"You still here?" he asked.
"You said you wanted to see me, Mister Bardell. The job?"
"Oh, yes. Well, I'll tell you what, Diane-go back to the pool for a while. I have to talk to Miss Watson first. I'll let you know, all right?"
She looked at him as if she thought he was about to renege on the job offer. He said, "Don't worry. Everything's set."
Reluctantly she got up and walked to the door. He admired the plump sway as buttock flexed against buttocks. It would be pleasant to have that sight close at hand every day.
As soon as Diane had left, he buzzed for Miss Watson and asked her to come in. Entering the office a moment later, she looked as if she expected the worst.
"Sit down," he said, indicating the chair directly in front of his desk. There would be no fun in looking at Miss Watson's spindly legs.
She peered at him through metal-rimmed glasses, anxiously awaiting his first words. " "You worked very closely with my father, I imagine."
"Oh, yes, Mister Bardell, I did. He's such a fine gentleman."
"Perhaps. I only know him as a father."
She. was taken aback.
"Anyway, I didn't ask you in here to discuss the old man. What do you know about the Glu-Pane project?"
"It was one of your father's main interests during . . . the last few months." She sniffled.
"I see. Are you aware of his thinking on the subject?"
"Partially. I sat in on a number of discussions, taking notes. I typed several reports and inter-office memoranda."
"Mmmm." Jeff leaned back. "Give me the gist, Miss Watson. What did my father intend to do?"
"He intended to go ahead with the project, of course."
"In spite of the cost problem?"
She blinked her eyes as if she didn't understand.
"Research and Development has not worked out a way to lower productions costs sufficiently to make the product marketable," he explained.
"The last report your father had was that they would be able to do that."
"I see. All right, Miss Watson. Thanks." It was plain that she couldn't give him any help.
She started to get up, then hesitated. "Mister Bardell, perhaps I should not ask, but.. .well, you had that girl from the secretarial pool up here for such a long time, and I assume from the nature of your call to me while she was here that you were discussing my job. I wonder if there is something I should know."
"Oh, yes. Glad you reminded me. Report to the secretarial pool for a new assignment, will you?"
She stood up. "Mister Bardell!"
"Your salary will remain the same."
"Money is not the most important thing to me," she said. "I am secretary to the president of this firm."
"You were, Miss Watson. Naturally, if you don't care to stay on, I'll see that you get an excellent letter of reference."
She was about to cry, but a knock sounded at the door before the first tear trickled out.
"See who that is," he directed, "and when you go the pool office, if you do, have Miss Garner come back up."
Miss Watson fled, sobbing. She edged quickly past the woman in a gray smock who was waiting outside the door. The woman glanced curiously from Miss Watson to Jeff, then entered the office with a faint smile on her lips.
"What was all that?" she asked in a low, sexy voice as she floated to a position in front of Jeff's desk.
"I had to fire her, poor thing. Who are you?"
"Kris Svenson. I'm manager of research and development. Please excuse my appearance. I just stepped out of the lab."
Her appearance did not require excusing, even though the smock she wore was shapeless. About thirty years old, she was remarkably beautiful, her facial features strong yet finely chiseled, her blonde hair abundant with natural luster in a high swirl on top of her head. Her lower legs were well-curved, the ankles appealingly slender. Her voice carried a trace of Scandinavian accent.
"Well, well!" he said, letting his gaze tour her again.
She was amused by the obvious inspection. Her blue eyes were sparkling when his eyes finally returned to them. "If you would like me to do so, Mister Bardell, I will take off the smock. I wear only bra and panties under it. You see, it's rather warm in the lab."
He wanted to accept her offer, but they were in an office and, strangely enough, his mind now was focused on work. Anyway, the offer had been made in jest.
"That's all right, Kris. Sit down, won't you?"
She sat across the desk from him.
"Glu-Pane," he said. "Tell me about it."
For most of the next twenty minutes, he listened. Then he began asking questions, drawing the woman out on different points she had mentioned. Her answers were precise and knowledgeable. This was clear to Jeff, even though he was unfamiliar with the technical aspects of the subject under discussion.
When she had been there for nearly an hour, he leaned back in his chair and said, "Am I correct in concluding, on the basis of what you've told me, that you think the project is a washout?"
"Cost-wise, yes. In every other respect, the product is perfected."
Jeff picked up a pencil and held it in front of Mm, examining the point. "I want you to prepare a report for me, setting down in detail all cost factors associated with the ingredients and their processing. Show me where you have tried to effect reductions and how. Explain why the efforts have not succeeded. Indicate in each instance how much of a reduction would be necessary in order to meet the goal you've been aiming at."
He looked at her.
"That's a very large order," she said.
"I know it," he said with a smile. "That's why I'll allow you until noon tomorrow to have the report ready." � .; �
She jumped to her feet. "You don't know what you're asking! There are forty man-hours of work in that job."
He kept smiling. "So put five or six men on it. Work this evening if you have to. But get it out."
She looked at him more closely. "Mister Bardell, Senior, would never have issued such an order."
"You're no longer working for Mister Bardell, Senior," Jeff pointed out, his eyes still twinkling.
Kris let one finely drawn eyebrow climb slightly, and then she turned and left the office. As he watched her got, Jeff imagined how she would have looked if the loose-fitting smock were removed. He guessed that her hips were lithe and trim. He "saw" them twisting in sheer flesh-toned panties, and sudden pressure from his balls told him that his body had recovered from his bout with Lupita. He could have taken Kris Svenson then and there.
Late that afternoon, Jeff visited the hospital. He had no real desire to see his father, so he was not disappointed when the nurse at the desk told him the old man was sleeping and could not be disturbed. The report on the elder Bardell's condition indicated no significant changes.
"Do you wish to speak with Doctor Wickam?" the girl asked.
"No. That won't be necessary." He smiled. "But I would like to talk with the nurse who was here yesterday, however."
"Which nurse is that, sir?"
"I don't know her name, but she had red hair and a nice figure."
"Oh. You must mean Pat. I believe she's gone home." The girl glanced at her watch. It was two minutes past five.
"Can you check?"
"Yes, if it's important."
Jeff assured her that it was.
He sat down in the reception room to wait while the girl at the desk used her telephone. In less than a minute Pat appeared. She was a stunning sight in green knit flares and a white loose-knit top-both garments clinging to her superbly fashioned body as if they had been applied by a paint sprayer.
"Hello, Mister Bardell," she said with a smile as she walked up to him.
He rose. "Hi, Patty. I suppose that's what they call you. Right?"
"Or Pat." She wrinkled her nose impishly as she added sourly. "Around here it's more apt to be just, 'hey you.' "
"Someone as beautiful as you? I can't believe it."
"Now ... you'd better save compliments like that for your wife."
"Let's not bring her up. The reason I stopped by was to invite you out for a drink."
"Thank you, Mister Bardell, but I don't drink."
"Oh." His voice fell. "That's too bad."
"I don't smoke, either."
"No vices at all?"
Her green eyes smoldered slightly. "Well, I didn't say that."
"Would you let me drive you home?"
She looked him up and down.
"You made a point of telling me you were married. Have you and your wife had a fight?"
"We never fight. About anything." He took her arm.
"What a remarkable marriage," she commented, looking up at him as he guided her to the door.
He admired the sprinkling of light freckles on her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. He wondered if she had them all over her body.
When they reached the company car Jeff had parked on the lot at the side of the hospital, he said, "How about having dinner with me? I realize it's a little early, but I'm hungry."
"So am I," she admitted, "and I wasn't looking forward to making dinner for myself. Mother and Daddy are in San Francisco for a few days."
His optimism took an upward surge. "That's great!" he said. "I mean, I hope they're having a fine time."
Pat's eyes twinkled. "Don't jump to any conclusions. This is a very small town. The neighbors will be watching the house to see how I behave myself while the folks are gone."
"No problem," he said, when he had slid behind the steering wheel. "I don't make a point of ruining the reputations of young, red-haired ladies. By the way, is it real?"
"With these freckles, you have to ask?"
As he guided the car off the lot and made a sweeping turn in the street, Jeff smiled to himself. It had been some time since he had uncovered a real redhead.
He wondered whether the fact that Pat knew he was married would make her easier or harder to uncover. With some girls it worked one way, with some the other.
But she was having dinner with him. That was a hopeful sign.
As they drove along she said, "Since you are a married man and all, maybe it would be better if we didn't go to a restaurant in town. Do you mind?"
"No. You're more familiar with the countryside than I am. Where's a good spot?"
"The next town south of here is Danville. It's twelve miles, if that isn't too far."
"We'll make it in jig time," he said, smiling at her.
Her eyes had become serious. "It not only has restaurants, there are a couple of motels."
"Hey," he said, keeping his eyes on her, "that was supposed to be my line."
"I thought I'd make things simple for you," she explained, facing front. "Look out!"
Jeff switched his gaze just, in time to make a sharp turn as the road started winding up out of the canyon. He was excited. The girl had really turned him on.
"I guess I didn't know much about small town girls. I had the wrong idea before I arrived here."
"I'm not exactly small town," she said. "At least, I haven't been for the last couple of years. I just graduated from nurses' school in San Francisco. Since I've been back in Cannon Oaks, it's seemed like dullsville."
"Don't tell me there aren't a lot of eager young guys to date."
"There are, sure. But the way I see it, dating falls into one of two categories-sex, or a buildup to marriage. Most of the guys who've invited me out, I wouldn't marry. And if I dated them strictly for sex the word would soon get around, and that would ruin my marriage prospects among the worthwhile men. Dig?"
Jeff laughed. "So you concluded I'm safe for a sex date because I'm married and won't talk."
"Something like that."
"You're a remarkably direct girl. You think like a man."
"I had my eyes opened in San Francisco. I shared a pad with a hippie girl who was studying art. We lived at North Beach."
"Ah." '
"There were boys hanging around all the time. I fought them off for a while. But there was my girl friend, making out like mad. It gave me a twitchy feeling. Finally I thought what the hell-I'm away from home. Who will ever know? So I started to experiment. I found I'd been missing out on the greatest thing in the world."
"Why did you come back to Cannon Oaks? You probably could have gotten a better job around San Francisco."
She smiled wryly. "Well, I hadn't changed altogether. I was having conscience pangs. Finally I told myself, 'You're a tramp, Pat. The time's come to shape up.' "
"So you came back here to give your will power a break."
"Yes. Funny though-the local boys didn't treat me the same. Now I was city stuff, and they were all after me. Of course, I've got marriage in the back of my mind. What normal girl of twenty-two doesn't? But the thing is, I don't want to get married and still have to work. A girl might just as well marry rich as poor, don't you think? Especially a nurse. She has chances."
"Makes sense."
"Now I'm waiting to find the right man. But in the meantime, it's rough. My body's been hurting."
"How's your conscience-does that feel any better?"
"I don't feel any more righteous, if that's what you mean. I know I'm just kidding myself when I stay away from sex. The truth is, I like it. I've come to the conclusion that conscience is a pain without purpose-at least, where sex is concerned. It just stems from what Mama said when I was twelve. Well, that's okay for a twelve-year-old, but when you're twenty-two, things are different."
"How right you are angel," Jeff replied, cupping his hand over her hot, knit-covered crotch.
"Oh, no," she said, lifting his hand away. "Not yet. You start doing that in the car and I'm liable to say motel first and the devil with dinner. That wouldn't be good. A girl has to keep up her energy-particularly if she's thinking about expending herself in bed."
Patty talked a great game. Jeff could hardly wait until they were on the percale playing field. He was not disappointed.
The first thing he found out about Pat was that she did indeed have freckles all over her body-a light dusting of them that didn't mar the beauty of her delicate skin tone, but added a very special interest.
Point two: She was a real flaming redhead.
Point three: Patty played as well as she talked.
And, with it all, she was built like the star of a college freshman's dream. Her breasts were round and bouncy with orange-tinted aureoles that were pebbly and wide. The tips of their centers were like doorbell buttons and were orange-pink, an unusually mouth-watering shade. Her waist was slender. Her belly button pouted at the crest of a nice little hillock of flesh. She had a nice flame-colored pussy, and her buttocks were like small round pillows of foam rubber.
She had insisted on taking a shower, which gave him plenty of time to undress and climb into bed before she came out, wearing a towel. She removed this in the glow of the bedside lamp and climbed into bed beside him.
Her hand went immediately to his cock and she murmured, "It's been a long time." She was, as he had stated earlier, a direct-minded girl.
One of his hands capped her belly while the other slid under her shoulders and drew her close to him. They kissed. Her tongue was like a slippery asp, darting and curling, caressing his tongue and the sides of his mouth. He rubbed his hand around on her belly and slid it upward until it was encompassing a rich, pliant breaslt. Her emerging nipple dug into his palm.
They kept kissing as he went to her other breast and caressed that one. The second nipple came up. He leaned back for air and then threw the sheet away from them.
He cupped her far breast and looked down at it. "Lovely," he murmured.
"Are you just going to look?"
"What would you like me to do?" he teased.
"Kiss it."
He bent and obliged, letting his tongue circle. He pulled at it gently with his lips.
Pat sighed, "Oh, that drives me nuts!" Her grip on his cock tightened.
His rod was already straining hard. The erection had begun to occur when he first glimpsed her cute little pussy; it had completed its development as soon as she began fondling him. Now he was like a heavy-hung bull at the sight of anew virgin heifer.
He lifted his lips from her breast and wiggled around slightly to gain access to her other one. She helped by falling completely onto her back. He got up on his knees and bent over her. He used both hands to press her breasts together and to caress as much of them as he was not kissing at any given moment.
"Oh, I like it when a man kisses good," she breathed. "That just sends me to heaven!"
He let his lips glide down her middle. He kissed all around her navel, nibbling at the soft, freckled flesh, then touched the center of the little cup with his tongue. She wriggled and made a happy, high-pitched moan.
He raised his head and shifted his position once more. Now his cock was beyond the reach of her hand, but that was all right since she had almost made him come too soon anyway.
The trailing of his fingertips along the velvet inner slope of her thigh caused her to spread her legs and Jeff gazed down at her fluffy red pussy.
She had freckles on her inner legs and on her lower belly. He was curious to see how far the freckles went, and he examined her more closely, pulling open her cuntlips and peering into her pink slit as he brought his face very near.
"Please!" she said finally. Her voice sounded almost as if she were strangling. "Please, Jeff suck me."
He sighted upward along her body and got a glimpse of her tortured face. He grinned, "Those North Beach guys don't care what they do, I guess."
"Oh, please! For God's sake don't tease me!"
She was bucking her hips up and down, releasing a blend of perfumed soap and musky, feminine sex scent. He brought his face closer yet.
Her near leg was trapped underneath his bent body but her other leg was free and she spread that one far to the side and gave her pelvis a little upward twist. He caressed the velvet softness of her labia and she moaned. "I can't wait! I'm going crazy!"
Her coloring was delicate. Everything about her was dainty. There were many adjectives that would apply, but all of them could be summed up in one sentence: She had a succulent pussy.
He changed his position completely and ran an arm under each of her thighs, holding them at an upward tilt as his head swooped down and into her cBt. Pat squealed in happiness as his lips pressed avidly over her clitoris.
She twisted and squirmed and her legs slid up onto his shoulders. They clenched about him and sbe used them for leverage so that she could press her slit deeper into his mouth.
She mouthed wild things as he tongued her. She talked about what he was doing and how she felt and where she felt the best. The terms she used were the filthiest, but in the context in which they were used, Jeff regarded them as beautiful. The trouble was, he could not hear them very clearly, pinned between her legs as he was.
Finally she screamed, "No! Come on and fuck me, you cocksucker!"
He was up and over her, attempting to guide his cock into position, but her hand was already there, and she slid it all the way in'.
She cried and swiveled, clutching him around the back. Her hips began to pound. He hardly had to work at all, even though he was on top. He had gotten her so horny that she couldn't get enough of his cock and she couldn't get him to screw her fast enough.
He worked harder, taking over the rhythm now. There was no reason to hold back. She was so close to coming that she was due to beat him no matter how fast he went.
He pistoned his shaft around wildly, and she went off like a bomb, tossing and crying and shuddering and sobbing as he gave her his final lunges, and only then did he have his own release.
After he had swung aside, and while they were resting, she told him what a good lover he was. "You're better than those young guys I made the scene with in Frisco," she said. "They were all too quick."
"Let that be a lesson to you, young lady. Marry an older man."
"The younger ones were always better the second time," she said hopefully, beginning to fondle his limp cock.
He lifted her hand away. "Let's let it build slowly. We've got all night."
"What did you tell your wife when you called her?" Pat wanted to know.
"That I had a date and wouldn't be home until late."
"No. Really? I'm curious. I want to know what husbands say."
"You won't learn much about husbands from me," he chuckled. "I'm not very representative of the species. The fact is that I told my wife the truth. Only I didn't mention who you were, of course."
She raised herself on an elbow and her breasts swooped toward him. She studied him for a while, then said, "You know, I believe you. Any man who would be out having a ball like this when his father's dying, might just tell his wife the truth. What makes you tick, anyway?"
"The same thing that makes you tick, baby. Having fun. That's all that matters in life."
"Didn't you ever love anyone-even your parents?"
He was about to answer her with an evasive remark, as he usually did when this subject arose, but there was something about her directness that impelled him to be just as direct in return. Anyway, he wanted to hear himself say it. He wanted to let it out.
"All right. I did love someone. I loved both my parents when I was young. That was before I understood my father, and when my mother was still alive."
"How did she die?" Pat asked, evidently sensing the truth he was about to reveal.
He hesitated for a moment, then said with a voice that was hot with bitterness, "My father killed her. Oh, not directly. Not in such a way that he could be punished for it. But he smothered her with his domination. He wouldn't let her do anything she wanted to do. He managed every last detail of her life-and not because he loved her, but just because he had to run everything and everyone. One day I came home from school and found her hanging from the banister above the entry hall. I was sixteen. I couldn't ever look at the old man again without hating him."
"Maybe it wasn't his fault," Pat said softly.
"That's what I tried to tell myself at the time. But I knew it was, even then. The older I got, the more sure of it I became. He tried to smother me the same way, but I wouldn't let him. And if my life has been a monument to waste, that's exactly what he deserves. I'll laugh when they tell me he's dead."
Patty looked at him for a few moments, then eased herself out of bed. "I think we'd better get dressed now," she said softly.
Jeff agreed.
Chapter 8
The next evening Jeff sat up in bed, books and papers spread around him, and scribbled on a yellow table as his wife busied herself with the various activities of a woman preparing to retire for the night.
Finally she positioned herself beside the bed, hands on slim hips, her blue shortie nightgown hanging off the small conical peaks of her bosom, and said, "All right, Mister Executive, clean up this clutter so I can slide in, okay?"
At first he didn't reply, so she remained standing where she was, staring down at him. Eventually her presence and concentrated gaze got through to him and he glanced up.
"What was that, Sophia?"
"I said ... I want to come to bed."
"Oh. Well, look darling... why don't you snuggle in with Lupita for a while? Or there's a spare room, isn't there?"
"I don't understand you," she stated, hands still clenched at her hips. "What are you so involved in all of a sudden? You didn't want to have anything to do with the business at first, and now I can't pry your nose out of those papers."
He put the pad flat on his lap and smiled at her. "This Glu-Pane thing is intriguing. I had no idea business could be fun."
"You must be sick," Sophia sniffed.
She pranced around the foot of the bed and came up on the other side of it, her breasts jiggling the flimsy fabric of her short gown. Without another word, she snapped off the bedside lamp her husband had been using.
"Hey!" he protested.
She began to push at the books and papers, some of them falling onto the floor.
"What the devil do you think you're doing?" Jeff demanded sharply, shoving her aside to turn the lamp on again.
"It's almost eleven o'clock and I happen to feel like coming to bed!" Sophia snapped, "You've been buried in this mess all evening."
"Okay. If you're bound and determined to come to bed, and if it has to be this particular bed, the only thing I can do is get the hell out."
He pushed the covers back and got to his feet. He was wearing pajamas. Bending forward, he began gathering the loose papers, stapled reports, books, pads and pencils. "Pick up that stuff that fell, will you?" he asked her.
Sophia glared at him for a moment, then complied.
"Where are you going?" she asked, as he carried the materials to a chair and dumped them in the seat of it.
"To see Kris," he said, pulling his pajama top over his head. "I want to re-check some figures with her, anyway."
"You're sure you don't want to re-check her figure?" Sophia asked haughtily, adding "Who the hell is Kris, anyway?"
"She's head of Research and Development," Jeff replied, dropping his pajama pants.
Sophia looked him up and down. "It's a little late to go calling on a business matter, isn't it?"
"Since when did we start keeping tabs on one another?"
He strode to the dresser to get shorts and shirt.
"Jeff, stay home tonight."
He turned and looked at her. There was a quality in her eyes he had not noticed in some time. Her lower lips glistened moistly and he thought he detected a tiny quiver.
He smiled. "Don't tell me you haven't picked up a boy friend in town."
"As a matter of fact, I haven't."
"Well, there's Lupe." He turned to the dresser.
"I don't want Lupe tonight. A female couldn't begin to satisfy me."
"Sophia, for God's sake!"
"Well, is it so unusual or shocking for a wife to want to go to bed with her husband?"
"I told you I have business to take care of," he replied, as he stepped into pale blue shorts.
Standing beside the bedroom lamp, Sophia quickly stripped off her shortie nightgown. Her small breasts flipped and quivered tautly as the fabric pulled away from them. Jeff couldn't help staring. As many times as he had seen Sophia in the nude, he had never been able to take for granted the amazing erectness of her unsupported breasts. And she was no kid any more. That made the phenomenon doubly remarkable.
Still, he had to see Kris. In making this decision and sticking with it, he had only business in mind.
He straightened his shorts at his middle and shook out the sports shirt in front of him.
Steamy with smoldering anger and with her frustrated desire for him, Sophia got into bed nude and pulled the covers up. He didn't look her way as he completed dressing.
He went into the bathroom to comb his hair.
When he returned to the bedroom, the light was out. He felt his way to the chair where his books and papers were, scooped them up, and carried them out of the room. He left the house and got into the company car which he had left parked in the semicircular driveway.
He knew where Kris lived. He had looked her up in the phone book earlier that evening in order to call her about a question that was troubling him, and he had made a mental note of her address.
During the short drive to her house, he continued to puzzle over the few remaining aspects of the Glu-Pane problem which remained to be cleared up.
Kris had had the cost analysis ready for him at noon, as he had ordered, and the two had remained closeted for the remained of the report. He had called in some accounting and sales personnel for their advice, also. During the evening he had been making additional computations.
The basic problem was one of cost management, and this was a subject for which Jeff had demonstrated a remarkable aptitude when he was taking business administration at Stanford. He found now that most of what he had learned came back to him, even though it had lain largely dormant in his mind for the past several years.
Bringing his car to a stop in front of the white frame cottage where Kris lived, Jeff didn't consider the possibility that she might be married and might, at that very moment, be locked in a passionate embrace with her husband. There was another possibility, namely that she was single, and was entertaining a boy friend in her bed. He could have been fucking her as Jeff with papers and books under his arm, pressed her doorbell.
Jeff's total attention was focused on the business problem that had brought him over, and this in itself presented a notable change in his approach to life.
He rang the doorbell a second time. After a moment, a light winked on, casting a rectangle of brightness against the shrubbery and lawn in front of the bedroom window. The cloth shade was drawn.
% Only then did Jeff feel a slight twinge of guilt for disturbing his subordinate at such a late hour.
There was a thumping sound from inside the house and then, from immediately on the other side of the front door, Kris' voice. "Who is it?"
"Jeff Bardell."
"What? Oh ... just a moment."
The door opened and Kris, clutching a bulky blue robe at her breasts, peered out, a dim light shining from somewhere behind her. Her blonde hair was in braids down her back.
"I guess it's & little late," Jeff said with an apologetic smile. "But I had to see you."
She blinked a few times, as if to clear away a few remaining cobwebs of sleep, and stepped back from the open door. "Come on."
The house was neat, and Kris apparently lived alone. There was no sign that anyone else belonged there or was present.
"I'm sorry if I woke you up. " he said.
"That's all right," she replied, though her tone suggested something else. She looked pointedly at the books and papers he carried.
"This Glu-Pane thing has really gotten to me. I think I've made some progress since this afternoon, but there are some sticky points. Do you mind?"
"No. Sit down. I'll go out to the kitchen and put on some coffee."
Jeff settled himself in the comfortable living room, spreading his books and papers on the floor and on the large coffee table. In a few moments Kris reappeared, reporting that the coffee would be ready shortly. She sat down on the couch beside him.
They went to work.
The session, which began at eleven-thirty, continued until half-past two. Both of them were bleary-eyed by that time, and finally Jeff sat back with a sigh.
"Well, that does it for tonight," he said, glancing at his watch. "My God! I had no idea."
Kris laughed slightly. "I did. But I'm surprised how we've cut into this thing. It begins to look now as if we're going to solve it."
"Damn right, we'll solve it! Tomorrow we'll get together with Accounting again. And I want you to put your lab crew to work on a couple of those shortcuts we talked about. They may be our salvation."
Kris, leaning back against the sofa bolster, watched him with eyes that had turned very warm.
"You're a remarkable man," she said. "I thought at first that you were going to ruin the company. You know, there's a lot of talk to that effect around the office. I'm going to tell those people they're wrong."
"Thanks," he said.
Suddenly Kris looked very desirable to him, with her soft cheek resting against the back of the couch, her eyes and lips free of'makeup, her hair braided like a little girl's. He wanted to find out what was underneath her bulky wrapper.
"I've never asked you," he said, "but I presume you're not married."
"I was. I'm divorced."
"That's too bad."
She smiled. "Why is that?"
"Well, you seem like the sort of woman who should have a husband. You're young and vital . . . and serious."
"The kind of husband I had was worse than none, believe me."
"What was the trouble?"
"Other women. I am a serious-minded girl, and I couldn't put up with a man who was a chaser."
"I see."
"You're married, aren't you, Jeff?"
"Yes."
"I'd like to meet your wife."
"We'll plan a get-together one of these days soon-all the department heads at our house. Of course, with my father ill as he is, it wouldn't be appropriate right now."
"No." She gazed at him for a few moments more, and Jeff thought he detected something in her clear blue eyes which went a little beyond friendliness. But almost as soon as he had identified it, her look changed and she stood up. "Well, I expect you want to be getting back home," she said, "and I know I want to get to bed."
When he had come to her house, he had not intended, even subconsciously, to make a play for her. But now he was overwhelmed with the desire to do so. The urge was so strong, he could not fight it back.
He arose from the couch and moved close to her. She didn't back up. Her blue eyes searched his insistent gaze. Then she said, "Jeff, please don't."
Since he hadn't yet touched her, this took him a little off stride. He grinned. "Don't tell me you're the kind of girl who says ouch before she gets burned."
"I don't want to get burned. And I don't want you to do anything you'll feel sorry for."
"I'm never sorry afterward, regardless of what I've done."
She took one step backward. She said, "I imagine your wife is wondering why you're not home."
He advanced, still grinning slightly. But there was determination in his eyes, also. "She never wonders about me. She doesn't care."
"Perhaps you should see a marriage counselor," she suggested, stepping backward again.
"I would rather see you," he murmured huskily, closing the gap between them. Before she had an opportunity to stop him, his hand moved to the top of her robe and tugged one side of the V away from her body.
A nude, pear-shaped breast flipped out to stand quivering, its thick stem pointing at his eyes. Jeff's hand clasped it.
Kris cried out and backed up, trying at the same time to dislodge his hand and to cover herself. It was futile. Jeff kept after her, holding the one breast while he widened the opening of her robe with his other hand. Her second breast poked free, and now he saw her white belly.
Holding both her breasts as she whimpered and clawed alternately at her robe and at his arms, he backed her against the wall. His hungry mouth went after hers. She turned her head from side to side, but finally he caught her and for a moment, as his lips spread hers and as his tongue plunged deeply into her mouth, she stopped struggling/He fondled and squeezed her naked breasts as they kissed, and his cock responded to the challenge of her warm, pliant flesh and her sensuous mouth.
He moved in close, pressing his cock against her.
She reacted as if she had been touched by a cattle prod.
She tore her mouth from his and, gasping, twisted away from the wall and fought off his grappling hands. Her uncovered breasts jiggling up and down, she circled the living room and made for the doorway leading to the back of the house. Jeff reached it right behind her. She got through, but she couldn't close the door against him. His shoe stopped it.
She ran down the hall toward the bedroom, her open robe flying. He glimpsed her full, naked thighs and the lower curves of her buttocks as she entered what she hoped would be her sanctuary.
Massively aroused now, inflamed by his neeed for her, Jeff lunged at the closing bedroom door and pushed it open, forcing Kris to reel backward. She was totally exposed as she fell across the bed.
He leaped astride her.
"Oh, damn you!" she said, beating at him with her fists. "You can't do this! You can't!"
"I'm going to," he insisted, watching her breasts toss and quiver as he sought to subdue her arms. Finally he succeeded, clamping her upturned hands between his knees and the bed.
He pawed at her provocative breasts and she whined.
He bent forward and his face bore down to hers for another bruising kiss. This time she had the mattress at the back of her head, rather than a hard wall, and he kissed her even more voraciously than he had the first time. He raped her mouth with his tongue. She brought her knees up against his back, but she couldn't gain enough of a swing to hurt him.
When he finally released her lips and sat up, she lay with open mough, blinking, breathing hard.
"I want you!" he breathed. "I have to have you. Understand?"
"It will be rape," she said. "I'll file charges."
"You don't mean that."
"I do. Sex is sacred to me. I wouldn't put up with a man who played around with other women, and I don't play with men."
Jeff stared at her. His cock was throbbing painfully, torturing him against his slacks; But he couldn't go ahead with what he had started.
She had said rape, and rape was what it would be.
He backed off and stood up.
She stared at his clothing, then slowly sat up. She rubbed first one wrist and then the other. She drew her robe together and got off the bed.
"We'll forget this ever happened," she told him. "Now leave."
He broke every speed law getting from Kris' cottage to the Bardell mansion at the top of the hill. He left the car in front, as before, and vaulted into the house and up the stairs.
His bedroom was dark.
"Sophia?" he said.
There was no answer.
He moved to the side of the bed and felt around. She was there. He lay the covers back from her. She was still nude. He felt her breasts and her pussy.
His cock began to surge again and he tore at his clothes. He could scarcely get them off quickly enough.
He rolled Sophia onto her back and spread her legs. He got onto his knees.
He didn't do anything to prepare her. She was still asleep when she felt his cock nudging at the entrance to her vagina. v She said, "Unh" then, "Oh!" then, "Jeff what?" * He had done it. The first phase, at least. His cock slipped roughly into her dry tunnel.
"Oh, God, that hurts!" she cried.
"Shut up and take it! You're my wife!"
She moaned and sobbed as he fucked her all but tearing her flesh with his massive hard-on. But she very quickly accommodated herself. And as the accommodation proceeded, hurt gave way to enjoyment. She began to move with him.
Her little hips bobbed. He dug underneath to grasp her around the butt, so that he could position and twist her just �he way he wanted. He worked his cock vigorously.
She gasped and cried, "Oh, oh ... Daddy . .. lover . . . darling . .. fuck me ..."
He nearly croaked before fulfillment grasped him in its fist and shook the passion out of him as Sophia lay convulsing also.
Afterward she said, "I'm glad that Kris bitch wouldn't give you any."
"How do you know I tried?"
"I know you, buddy-boy."
"All right. Just don't gloat."
"While we're talking about do's and don'ts, for God's sake wake me up before you start next time."
"Did I hurt you?" he asked belatedly.
"Well, a woman ought to be prepared."
"Okay, baby," he murmued, caressing her.
There was silence for a few moments, after which Sophia remarked, "I think you're taking the flipping business too seriously. We're away from the old crowd, and that isn't good."
"Just what do you suggest?"
"That we invite Betty and her husband up here for the weekend. They'd probably come. George has a plane, you know, and they're most likely tired of flying to places like Tahoe and Vegas."
At first the thought appealed to him. He hadn't screwed Betty in a hell of a long time. But then the urge cooled.
"Well?" Sophia prompted. "What do you say?"
"You just want to get George between the sheets."
"Well, sure. I told you that. But I think a party would do you good, too. And, as you said at dinner, we can't invite the local people yet, with your father lingering on the way he is."
Jeff remained silent. He didn't know what he wanted to do. The truth was, that inside his brain, he could hardly recognize himself.
"I'm tired, Sophia," he said finally, as he rolled onto his side, facing away from her. "Let's talk about it in the morning, okay?"
"Sure."
In less than five minutes, he was asleep.
Chapter 9
The next day Jeff was at work alone in his office when Diane buzzed him.
"A Miss Blake from Mister Bunyan's office," she announced.
Shirley!
Jeff had been so busy the last few days, with other women and with work, that he had forgotten about the masochistic blonde who had pleaded that their first date should not be their last.
The thought of seeing her now, in mid-morning, appealed to him in a twisted way. He had been wrestling with the knottiest parts of the Glu-Pane project and he felt mean. But his meanness did not stem entirely from that. There was the whole flunked-up pattern of his life that bugged him. A loveless marriage, a pointless, drifting existence that now seemed absurdly shallow. He had been looking at himself in a new and different light, and he was not happy with what he saw.
"Send her in," he snarled at the phone.
The door opened and Shirley appeared, her ash-blonde hair hanging about her shoulders and glistening like silk, her face as perfect and superior-looking as ever, her figure youthfully provocative in a crisp white blouse such as she had worn the other day and, this time, a wine-colored miniskirt. Her stockinged knees gleamed below its hem.
"Hello, Mister Bardell," she said, surprising him with her formality. "Mister Bunyan found some more papers that he thought you ought to have."
She carried them to his desk and placed them in front of him. He managed to get a tantalizing whiff of perfume.
He glanced at the papers. They were profit and toss reports for the years 1955 through 1958.
"What the devil did he think I would want with these?" Jeff asked.
She was taken aback. "Well, I don't know. He just said to bring them over and, of course, that's all I did."
Jeff could tell by watching her eyes and gauging her tone of voice that the idea of coming over had been entirely hers. Well, by God, he was going to give her what she had come for!
He got up from his desk and walked across the room with Shirley watching him. He twisted the lock on his door and turned to face her.
"What was that for?" she asked, her pink lower lip trembling.
"You've been naughty again, Shirley," he said in a low, but very menacing tone. He began to move toward her.
"No!" she exclaimed, backing up. "What did I do?"
"You told a little fib. Bunyan didn't send you over. It was your idea. And I'm sure you did it just to bug me."
"No! Oh, no, that isn't true!" She was backing away from him, her eyes like saucers.
He commented to himself about the superficial similarity of this scene and what had taken place last night. But, underneath, the two were entirely different. Kris really had not wanted him to screw her, and that had been something of a shock, while this little bitch wanted him like mad. But she wanted him only in a certain way. Well, it didn't matter, that was the way he wanted her now!
He reached out and grasped her by the wrist. He pulled her hard against him. Already his cock was starting to rise, and she must have felt it whentheir bodies came together.
Twisting one arm behind her back to hold her firmly next to him, he ran his other hand upward along the side of her soft, delicate cheek. He looked deeply into her baby-blue eyes.
"I'm surprised that you'd pull something naughty on me again," he growled, sounding as ferocious as possible through a steely grin. "You remember what happened last time."
"Oh, please, please ..."
"Too late to beg now, my girl. You have to be punished."
"But not the way you did before."
She obviously was hoping against hope that he would punish her exactly as he had, only perhaps harder.
He said, "Oh, yes. Just that way. I'm going to pull up your skirt and pull down your pretty panties. Then I'm going to blast away at your bottom with my hand."
She uttered a whining squeal and literally quivered in his graps. He thought, for a moment, that she was having an orgasm just thinking about it. But she wasn't. Her spring was merely tightening up.
He looked quickly around the office. There was one occasional chair against a far wall that would serve as a place for him to sit as he spanked her. He gave her arm a little twist, enough for her to feel without actually hurting her, and shoved her in the direction of the chair, with him moving behind. He admired the tight action of her pliant buttocks. She was ungirdled again, of course.
When they rieared the wall, he reached past her, grasped the light chair, and swung it around, positioning it behind him. Now he sat and pulled her across his lap.
She hardly fought at all. Her voice keened shrilly, but he knew this was more from erotic anticipation than from protest. Anyway, if she wanted to get away from him, she could have.
He petted her first across the buttocks and felt the taut mounds of flesh quiver beneath her straight skirt. He let his hand trail slowly down the backs of her thighs.
Taking time to savor the situation to the full, he slid his fingers/ slowly between her silk-sheathed knees. He began sliding them up between her thighs. Now he was at her stocking tops and her skirt was beginning to restrict his progress.
Shirley twisted and looked up at him earnestly. "Don't tear it this time," she said, dropping all pretenses. "I have nothing else to put on."
"Okay, honey, then suppose you stand up."
Obediently she did, presenting her backside to him.
He pinched her skirt and slip at either side and raised them, slowly baring her legs-stockings, nude flesh and all. He teased himself for a few moments by holding the skirt hem just below her buttocks. The pause must have been excruciating for her, also. Then he yanked it the rest of the way, exposing one of the prettiest rears he had ever seen, clad in pink nylon panties that clung to her like a loving embrace.
Holding her skirt and slip at her waist, he said, "All right, baby. Lie down across my knees again."
She did.
And then she whimpered, "Don't hurt me."
He almost laughed.
This time, before he took her pants off, he ran his hand all over her sleekly clad fanny, enjoying the extra silky feel which her pants imparted. The fine pink nylon was stretched almost to the breaking point around her plump buttocks. He gave one of them a little prod with his finger and watched it wobble. This wobbling, with her pants on, pulled at the other buttock and they wobbled together. ~- �
Shirley whimpered again.
"Okay," he said sternly, "time to take your pants off."
Shirley cried out.
Slowly, enjoyably, he folded the top of her nylon pants down, which denuded the beginning of her ass crack. He folded them at the sides now, then again where her buttocks met. They were half off.
He hooked a finger under the elastic, stretched it up, and snapped it back against the fullness of her curves.
"Oh!" she cried.
He laughed lightly.
Now he worked the top of her panties into a roll and turned it gradually lower by brushing with his open hands at either side. The nylon-elastic rope had reached the lower portions of her buttocks now. The redness caused by his first spanking of her had disappeared, her bottom having returned to the lush tone of pink-and-white he had admired before.
He carefully tucked the slender roll of nylon and elastic under first one buttock and then the other, so that it fit into the tender creases just above her pussy. Then he brushed her nude buttocks with his open hand. They quivered delightfully.
"You have a lovely ass, darling," he said. "Just right for spanking."
"Oh," she moaned.
She twisted in passionate agitation, causing her buttocks to rub against one another.
He had waited long enough. He had to go at her now: � � -
Gripping her rolled panties firmly where her buttocks and pussy met, he gave a ferocious yank, which popped the waistband and ripped the nylon cloth.
She cried happily and wiggled her bottom again, this time lifting it high. He knew she could hardly wait to feel his flat hand powering down on her there.
He hooked first one legband and then the other, popping them neatly. A couple more tugs completed the ripping of her pants, and he dropped the ruined garment onto the rug.
He stared at the beauty of her-pink asscheeks and fluffy pussy, lower thighs and calves snugly stockinged, garter straps running up her sides to their slender anchor around the waist. Then he began to spank her. He used only his right hand, and he let it fall fast and hard, making a sharp spat-spat-spatting sound that echoed off the walls of the room. She cried and twisted, but she didn't try to get up. He wasn't even holding her. His left arm rested lightly across her back. He spanked one buttock, then the other, then both cheeks together. They quivered and danced and wiggled with her anguished twisting.
His hand began to ache, but that made him spank Shirley all the harder. Her buttocks were turning pink, and a strong, musky sex scent began to exude from her body. This goaded him on. She had grabbed his legs and was digging her sharp nails into them, tearing the skin.
This goaded him on, too.
He forced his hand down against her, working now like a machine, his force and rhythm relentless. When he finally couldn't spank her any more with his hand, he reached down and pulled off his right shoe. He lifted that and brought the sole of it down across both buttocks.
"Oh!" Shirley howled. "Oh, God! Oh! Oh! Oh!"
Jeff spanked her with his shoe over and over-one buttock, both buttocks, the other buttock, back to the first one again, then both of them five times in succession.
She was screaming and sobbing and clutching him, and then she came very suddenly. There was no mistaking the moment when orgasm gripped her. She moaned ecstatically and shuddered as i she were lying on a vibrating table, instead of across his knees.
He rolled her gently down his legs and onto the rug. Immediately she forced herself back up and clawed at his fly. Her tear-tracked face wore an expression of sex-hungry concentration-her wet eyes wide, her trembling pink lips parted. Finally she freed his cock and plopped it greedily into her mouth.
He looked down at her blonde head as the clasping thrills pounded up from his balls, exploding with almost machine-gun rapidity in his brain. The excitement mounted higher and higher. Shirley was making heinous sounds as her tongue swirled around his cock maddeningly.
He grasped her around the back of the head to make sure she stayed with him, but she obviously had no intention of trying to escape. He knew she wanted him to come in her mouth.
When he felt himself nearing the very top of his limit, he plunged his prick down her throat as far as it would go. She moaned and sucked at him even more voraciously.
Then the jism spurted out the end of his cock, and his eyes rolled back. He nearly passed out as his whole body spasmed over and over.
Finally his nervous system settled down and he returned to total consciousness. He looked down and Shirley was smiling up at him gratefully.
Panting, Jeff said, "You could turn a man into an addict."
Continuing to smile, she bent forward and rubbed first one cheek against his deflated cock, and then the other. Afterward, she solicitously rearranged his clothes.
After she had gone, he sat at his desk and tried to get his mind back on the Glu-Pane project. It was difficult. He felt tremendously depleted, as if his life's seed had been claimed by some sperm-vampire.
He made a resolution never to see Shirley again. Fun was fun, but that bitch was too much!
The incident with Shirley colored the remainder of his day, and he wasn't able to accomplish very much. . v
This was Friday, which meant a solution to the Glu-Pane problem would have to wait until at least Monday, unless he found he could work it out by himself. He didn't believe he could. Right now the people in Accounting were wrestling with a couple of phases of the project, and he was still awaiting a report from the research lab.
When he arrived home, Jeff was surprised to note a car parked in front of the door. He pulled to a stop behind it.
He had no sooner stepped into the house than an old, familiar voice greeted him from the archway leading to the front room. It was Betty Finstad. Her husband, George, was behind her, and they both had martinis in hand.
Oh, no, he thought, and closed his eyes for a moment before putting on the obligatory smile. He greeted them, and then there was Lupita's voice behind him.
"Meester Bardell, the hospital ees calling. Eet ees about your father."
He walked to the telephone, his legs wooden. He wasn't sure what he wanted to hear, but what he did hear surprised him.
"Bardell? Doctor Wickam here. I have great news-your father is going to recover! We've whipped the pneumonia and his paralysis is receding. I wouldn't count on a total cure, but right now it looks as if he will be walking again."
Jeff murmured something polite and replaced the telephone on the receiver.
"What is it, Jeff?" Sophia asked, moving up to him.
"Dad's going to be all right," he said quietly.
"Wheel We can go back to Los Angeles! Oh, that's the greatest news I could imagine!" She calmed down and looked at him. "What's the matter? Aren 't you happy ?"
"Yeah. Hilarious."
He walked with her into the living room and settled down for some serious drinking with the Finstads.
Chapter 10
Betty and George were as unlike in appearance as two people could be. She was a natural golden blonde of voluptuous proportions, and he was dark, tall and slender. He held down a top berth with a Beverly Hills investment firm.
Sophia began immediately to make a play for George, and Jeff realized this was his cue to monopolize Betty, preferably to get her away somewhere so that Sophia would have a clearer field. But he didn't want to.
He still hadn't recovered from his sex sessions with Shirley. The entire situation of his involvement at the paper company, his father's evident recovery, the conflict which lay at the very root of the life he led-all this was swirling in his mind.
His response was to drink. He consumed several martinis more quickly than was good for him, and consequently zoomed through the initial phase of intoxication which might have lightened his psychological burden if he had paced his drinking carefully and held himself in a light-hearted state; he quickly entered the more advanced realm, which involved a heaviness of eyelid and limb, a tendency to be morose, and an utter abandonment of what few inhibitions he normally possessed.
And dinner barely slowed down his drinking because there was a gallon of wine served with the meal. The food merely settled his stomach, thereby permitting more and better imbibery during the remainder of the evening.
Betty was wearing a low-cut dress with a built-in bra that pushed her breasts up so that they looked like rising moons, but softer in tone and livelier in texture than any full moons he had ever seen. And, unlike celestial bodies which were too far away,
Betty's moons were thrillingly three-dimensional in appearance. Golden smooth spheroids they were, whose upper halves clear to the nipples were completely revealed.
Jeff stared at them across the dinner table, and later when the party moved back to the living room. Though he hadn't felt like sex when the evening started, he was seized with the wicked urge to bare Betty's fleshy treasures-to unzip the back of her dress, bend the front of it downward and send her breasts spilling out. He still wasn't sure whether he wanted to fuck her, but he did want to put those taunting tits on total display. Wasn't it only fitting that such beauty should be seen and admired in its totality? Did a Rembrandt tease and frustrate the public by keeping his canvasses half-covered? Was an exciting piece of sculpture revealed only at the top while the bottom half remained partially shrouded in cloth?
George and Sophia had grown chummier as the evening progressed. The liquor had helped in that respect, and besides, when Sophia set her sights on a man, it was impossible for him to remain indifferent. Still, Betty had made it clear some time ago that George was opposed to swapping. How was he apt to react to the sudden baring of his wife's boobies by a mutual male friend?'
There was only one way for Jeff to find out.
He maneuvered himself behind her, ostensibly to snuff a cigarette out in an ash tray; then he moved close and with surprising deftness-considering the quantity of liquor he had consumed-he plucked the tab at the top of her zipper and ran it all the way down. Betty gasped and started to turn, but Jeff had already reached forward under her armpit. He quickly grasped her dress and pulled the top of it forward.
Squealing, she clutched her large breasts, one hand around each globe of quivering flesh. Her husband leaped to his feet in shock. Sophia looked quickly from him back to Betty and to Jeff. She saw what would have to bf lone and she did it.
"Well, if this is going to be a strip party," she said, standing up and moving her hands to the fasteners on her own dress, "little Sophia isn't going to be completely left out."
Before George could mount any action against Jeff, the latter's wife had joined George's in semi-nudity. When Sophia's pert titties went on display, George helplessly shifted his gaze to them. And Betty released her own larger, rounder and softer breasts, allowing them to plunge forward and jiggle as she dropped her hands to her sides.
"Lovely!" Jeff exclaimed in his drunkenness. "We can start our own topless bar."
Betty giggled nervously and said to Sophia, "We can't go around like this, with the tops of our dresses hanging down. What do we do-take 'em all the way off and give the boys a real show, or pull ourselves together?"
George answered the question before Sophia had a chance to. The man who had been so opposed to swapping did a sudden about-face. The sight of Sophia's naked breasts had turned him on, and she was smiling at him in a way that let him know they were available.
He placed both hands on them, squeezed, and said, "Holy Hannah, what tight ones!"
Sophia laughed and tossed her shoulders, wiggling her boobs in his hands.
Betty said, "Want to get in on the action, mister?" She"shoved her large, soft breasts at Jeff.
He brought his thumbs up underneath them and held them at their outer sides with his extended fingers. He shook them back and forth. Their crests were light brown and nicely textured with thick nubbins at their centers.
The party was now in gear, and Jeff, lingering uncertainly about whether he wanted an orgy that night, could not stop its progress or alter the course which he himself had set.
Sophia wriggled out of her dress as George continued to slobber over her breasts. She wore a brief, white pantygirdle, and dark stockings anchored to it. When Betty dropped her dress and half slip, she was left standing in just her stockings and garter belt.
She and Jeff sank to the sofa as Sophia led a now-eager George out of the room. He didn't even glance back at his wife.
"I wouldn't have believed it," Betty commented as Jeff began to caress her. "He was so set against fun and games."
"A cardinal rule, dear girl, is not to judge people by what they say, but by what they do," Jeff proclaimed thickly, proceeding to move his lips over her left breast.
His cock was not cooperating. An over-consumption of alcohol, plus the physical drain which Shirley had placed upon him earlier-plus the lack of resolution about what he really wanted-not only for now, but for the future days of his life-made him slow to respond.
He spent a very long time kissing each of Betty's nipples, then touring the entirety of each breast with eager lips and stroking tongue. No luck. He was as limp as ever.
He guided her to a prone position on the couch and knelt on the carpet to kiss up and down each of her arms, tickling the sensitive skin at the crooks of her elbows. He sucked her fingertips and then her toes. Still no luck.
For her part, Betty was sizzling. She squirmed, rubbing her large ass against the nubby couch fabric and scissoring her upraised thighs.
He shifted to her legs, holding each of them in tum and licking all the way around the top of each stocking. He flicked his tongue into her frothing crotch.
She was crying for him now. Literally sobbing, she begged him in the most obscene terms. His cock remained limp as spaghetti.
Finally she seized his cock and began pumping it in a way that was practically guaranteed to produce an erection.
It hardly grew at all.
In sheer exasperation, Betty leaped from the couch to a wide, tufted hassock, landing on her knees. She lowered the upper portion of her body, bracing her hands against the floor, and raised her ass up to him.
Jeff gazed,
Betty's plump buttocks had spread and both her anus and cunt were totally revealed to him. It was a view that ranked among the most inspiring he had ever seen. Moreover, she was at exactly the right height. All he would have to do was move up behind her and remain standing while he shoved his dick in and proceeded to piston forward and back'.
But in order to accomplish this, one prerequisite was involved-a hard-on. And he did not possess that. Even staring at her now, he made little progress.
She looked back at him and saw his helpless condition. She stood up.
"For God's sake, what's the matter?" she demanded. "Did you drink too much?"
"I don't know," he said. "Maybe if we sneaked in on Sophia and George and I watched them for a while-maybe that would help."
"Let's go," she said, grasping him firmly by the hand.
There was a downstairs bedroom at the back of the house which was servant's room that was riot in use any more, but which was fully furnished. He assumed that was where his wife had taken George.
Jeff led the way with Betty beside him, her bulbous breasts bouncing with every step. That sight alone would ordinarily have been enough to turn him on, but his cock continued to be indifferent.
Just before entering the room, he slipped his cock back into his slacks and closed the zipper. It wasn't that he was ashamed of his nudity; he just didn't want to advertise the problem he was having with his impotency.
George was having no difficulty at all. This became apparent as soon as Jeff opened the bedroom door.
Sophia was spread out in the center of the three-quarter-size bed, and George's cock was poised above her, ready to make the plunge. His body was symmetrical all over, especially his cock-slim and tall. His head turned, as did Sophia's, and he issued an angry oath. He was about to leap from the bed, but Sophia grasped his arm.
"Let them watch," she said urgently. "That's great kicks for everybody."
"I'd feel like a performer in a stag reel," George protested, trying to hide his cock while Sophia's nudity was on blatant display.
"Don't be so narrow-minded," Sophia ridiculed. "Loosen up." She grasped his hips and began to draw his cock down to her slit.
George couldn't resist. He couldn't even delay. His cock was too hot to achieve the contact, to feel her moist cunt walls around him.
He took her.
Betty watched Jeff as he stared at the spectacle on the bed. Her hand moved slyly to his cock, testing him through his clothes. There was response! As her hand fondled him and as he stared at the vigorous action supplied by his wife and her lover of the moment, his prick began to grow.
"That's the way, Jeff honey," she murmured. "Keep going. More. More. Oh, yes!"
She dropped to her knees on the rug and drew him down with her. He didn't have to unfasten his clothes. Betty tended to that. She opened his trousers, after which she lowered his pants and shorts. She caressed his prick, murmuring and sighing as the lengthening erection continued to take place. When he finally had the good-sized hard-on she wanted, she flopped onto her back and opened her legs wide.
Jeff sprang to the ready and, with the rhythmic squeak of the bedsprings under his wife and George dinning in his ears, he fucked Betty on the rug, driving his cock in with savage strokes.
There was more hate than love in it-hate for her and hate for himself, as well as hate for his wife and her despoiler-hate for the kind of life they all had led.
When he and Sophia were finally in their room, alone together, he growled, "I want you to kick the Finstads out in the morning. Tell them Dad's leaving the hospital and needs the house."
"But he's not getting out so soon, is he? And, even so, there's plenty of room for all of us."
"Do as I say, damn it! I don't want those people around."
"That's a switch," Sophia commented dryly. "The way you pulled the top of Betty's dress down when we were in the living room, I thought you could hardly wait to play volley ball with her boobs."
"I was, drunk."
"Yes, and you still are. Come to bed." Nude, Sophia slithered between the sheets. Jeff stood, shorts in hand, and stared at her. "How was George?" he asked bitingly. "Okay. The same as any of them." "If they're all the same, Sophia, why in the hell do you have to sample each one?"
She sat up in surprise, letting the covers fall away, "Well, that's a funny thing for you to say! You're the playboy who taught me how to live, remember? I was a reasonably discriminating little coed before you started to whisper in my ear about the delights of free love and all that crap."
"All right. So I'm going to change."
Sophia tilted her head back and laughed.
"You think not?" he said. "My eyes have been opened since we came here. I've found out there's more to life than just seeing how many cunts I can fuck."
"You don't mean you're going to stay on in the business!"
"No. I can't work for Dad. But I'm not going back to the old life, either."
"Just what are your plans-if I'm not being too inquisitive?"
"I don't know yet. But something will have to open up."
She looked at him in wonder. "I think the mountain air has got you. You're cracking."
He walked over to the bed and gazed down at her intently. A new light came into his eyes. "Do you realize what a challenge there is in wrestling with a problem that no one can solve? And what a pleasure there is in discovering you can do what they couldn't?" He sighed. "No, I guess you don't. I didn't, either. But I've found out. Business is a living, breathing thing, Sophia. It's people. It's getting things done."
"Okay. So you can dabble in something. You don't have to turn both of our lives upside down."
"But that's just it, don't you see? I chose the kind of life I did because I had nothing else. I never had to work until now, so naturally I wouldn't."
"Well, you don't have to any more. Your father's recovering."
"But I've found something. A new approach to life. A new kick, if you like."
"Jeff, you're raving. Come to bed."
He looked at her and wondered if he could ever make her understand. And then he wondered if it mattered to him whether she understood or not.
Chapter 11
Sophia remained in bed the following morning-as did Betty and George, in their room-while Jeff sat at the breakfast table with his second cup of coffee and pored carefully over his notes on the Glu-Pane project.
He glanced up when Lupita's rotund buttocks moved past. She was going about her chores in the kitchen. When she returned to the table a moment later to ask if she could fetch him anything, Jeff reached out and wrapped his hand around the back of her leg just above the knee. He slowly slid his hand upward, along her stocking, over her garter slips, onto her warm silken flesh, then around the silk-on-silk softness of her buttocks.
"Meester Bardell!" she breathed. But she did not move away and she didn't attempt to push down his hand.
He could have taken her right there with no effort at all. He could have toppled her onto the cold kitchen floor, pulled her skirt and slip up to her waist, and summarily removed her panties. She would h^ye lain with her fleshy buttocks against the linoleum while he fucked her. He felt there would have been no challenge to it at all.
He took his hand away from her and let her skirt fall back to place.
Lupita's face was slightly flushed and she breathed a little harder as she asked, "Ees there anytheeng else?"
"No. Thank you."
He watched her leave.
Yes. It was like shooting fish in the well-known barrel. Sex had always been more or less like that to him because of his money. For some recent examples, he thought of the hospital nurse, who had first been attracted to him because he was Jeff
Bardell, Junior. Then there was Diane at the office. He could just as easily-hell, more easily-have taken her himself than to force her to make love with the office boy while he watched.
They were all too easy.
No-not all of them.
Kris was an exception. She had fought him and had threatened to prosecute him for rape if he forced himself upon her. He recalled what she had said about sex-that it was sacred to her and that she did not play around. She had divorced her husband because he was catting with other women. Yet, she wasn't cold. He had discovered that much.
He had a strong urge to see her again-today. But this time they would talk. He wanted to get close to her. Sex was not in his mind.
"Meester Bardell," Lupita saia from the doorway. "The hospital."
A peculiar tingling sensation went through him. He got up and walked to the extension telephone on the wall. He answered it.
"Jeff? This is Pat."
"Oh, yes. How are you?"
Quickly his mind flashed images of the other night at the motel: Patty approaching his bed with the towel wrapped around her, on her back on the sheet as he petted her red pussy hair and kissed her innumerable freckles.
"I'm fine," she said. "Your father's very much improved, also. He wants to see you."
"Oh?"
"Shall I tell him you'll be right over?"
Jeff hesitated for a moment then said, "All right. I'm leaving now."
He left the house without saying anything to Sophia, without even checking to see if she was awake. The Finstads remained sacked in, as well. He hoped Sophia would send them packing when she got up.
During the five-minute drive, he thought about what Pat had said to him the other night after he blurted out the story of his mother's suicide. Pat had suggested that perhaps he had not been fair in blaming his father for what had happened.
His mother had been weak. He realized that. But a weak person needed love and encouragement, not dominating repression which was apt to kill the human spirit and bring about a vegetable-like existence.
He parked the car and entered the hospital building. Pat met him, looking pretty as ever with her round, billowing breasts pressing forward against the starched material of her uniform, her sexy bottom twitching as she walked down the corridor in front of him. She was not quite as friendly toward him as she had been, and this was understandable in view of the way he had talked the other night.
She let him into his father's room and stepped back outside, closing the door softly.
The old man was alone. There was no oxygen tent around him now, and he was sitting up in bed. He seemed alert, and his color was much improved.
"Hello, Dad," Jeff said in a tone that was almost impersonal. "How are you feeling?"
The elder Bardell's gray eyes glinted. His lips were thin and straight, unsmiling. He motioned Jeff to the chair beside his bed and didn't bother to answer the young man's question.
He said, "Kelly was just here." His speech was slow and deliberate, but the old timbre was back in it and practically all the tongue-thickness was gone. "He gave me a report on you.'*
"Yeah? What did he have to say?"
Bardell's eyes narrowed. "That you have conducted yourself like unprincipled fool, as if you were out to wreck the business instead of to perpetuate and preserve it."
"It's like you to accept his judgment of me."
"Do you deny that you fired Miss Watson, that you asked an office boy to pick a new secretary for you, and that the two of you carried on with her in your office for nearly an hour while Miss Watson sat outside your door crying?"
"I didn't know she was crying. As for choosing his own secretary, a man can do that on a whim if he likes. Watson is a prune."
"There's more. You have shunted Kelly aside, and you've been monopolizing the research and accounting departments for the last few days, upsetting their routine completely, to try to accomplish something that's hopeless."
"The Glu-Pane project?"
"Yes."
"I thought that was one of your pets."
"It was. But Kelly tells me that Research recommended against it. They said Glu-Pane could not be produced competitively. Now I'm sure they considered all possibilities before they turned in that report. What you should have done was to accept it and let the matter drop."
"They didn't consider all the possibilities," Jeff argued. "We made great progress in overcoming some of the problems."
"Bosh! Kelly tells me ... "
"The devil with Kelly! I'm your son and I'm telling you Glu-Pane is practicable. If we don't come up with it, a competitor will. How much in annual sales will that cause us to lose?"
"Glu-Pane is out," the elder Bardell stated adamantly. "And as of now, you are out, too."
Jeff recoiled as if he had been slapped.
"I'm placing Kelly in full charge until I'm on my feet again," the old man went on. "You may return to Los Angeles or go anywhere you like. I don't care. Naturally, your allowance will continue. I'm convinced now that you don't have what it takes to run this business."
"And that pipsqueak Kelly does?" Jeff snapped as he stood up quickly, and in doing so almost turned over his chair.
"Kelly is an excellent man. I trust him implicitly."
"Well, you can have him and welcome," Jeff said, stomping out of the room and slamming the door.
Pat, who was at the desk in the lobby, said, "He's coming along fine, isn't he?"
"He's his old self, all right," was the bitter response.
"Jeff!"
He turned in front of the door and looked back at her. She was appetizing with her cantaloupe breasts pushed up, all but popping the fabric of her thin white dress. But her eyes reflected only complete disapproval of him.
"I had no idea a man could be so unfeeling," she said.
"I'll tell you what you do, honey," he replied, taking a few steps toward her. "Why don't you see if you can make up for my lack of love? My mother's dead, you know. Maybe you can fuck old Dad sufficiently so that he'll want to marry you. He's got nothing but money, and you know he can't last long. But I warn you, when he finally does croak, I'll fight you for every buck. You'll be lucky if you get out with your freckles."
"You're hateful!" she exclaimed, her face coloring.
"Yeah. I guess so. And I've got cause to be. See you around."
He drove to Kris' cottage. She was at home in white shorts and halter, puttering around the garden.
She greeted him coolly at first.
"I'm going back to Los Angeles," he told her.
He was calm now. "Glu-Pane is dead. The old man vetoed it. Incidently, he has put Kelly in full charge."
"I'm sorry to hear that," she said sincerely.
"Well ... so was I. But that doesn't matter now. Anyway, it's probably for the best. I could never get along with Dad in the same office."
She moved closer to him and he couldn't help but glance down at the erect thrust of her breasts. He thought he detected the imprint of her nipples against the thin halter.
"Jeff, I've been thinking about the other night. I guess I acted like a virgin schoolgirl. I'm sorry."
"Nonsense," he said, though the feeling which motivated her words warmed him. "You were right. I was the one who acted like a child. I've just realized, in the last couple of days, that I've been acting like a child all my life. Here I am, almost thirty, and I haven't ever really grown out of my teens."
"Darling ..." She touched his arm.
The word, the sincerity with which it was uttered, and her touch went sizzling through him, warming his loins like a tongue of flame.
"You didn't mean that," he murmured huskily as his cock began to rise.
"Yes, I did. I want to prove to you that I did, especially now that you're going away."
She led him into the house, and as he followed her he stared at the compact action of her buttocks, lithe and firm, yet fully rounded. She was feminine in all respects, yet with an independence and vitality which matched those of any man.
Jeff not only liked her, but he admired her. And this was something he could not say of many women he had known.
Kris took him directly to her bedroom. "Get undressed," she said. "I want to go right to bed with you."
His cock came to full erection just at hearing her say this.
She stripped off her halter and freed the proud breasts whose aureoles were puffed with desire, the nipples rigidly erect, and his rod throbbed so intensely that he could hardly get his clothes off quickly enough.
She slipped her shorts down, which left her in silken white panties that fit like a lover's caress. Jeff was already stepping out of his trousers.
Standing fully in front of him, she gripped her panties at either side and whisked them away, baring the most precious part of her beauty-her fantastic slit.
He took off his shorts.
"Darling . . . " she murmured again, moving up to him. His hard-on would not let her embrace him as tightly as either of them wanted, unless a certain adjustment were made. And she was a little too short and a little too heavy to make a stand-up fuck comfortable.
They kissed once, quickly, and then she pulled away from him and lay down in the center of the bed. She immediately opened her arms.
He positioned his cock above her, but he didn't move to screw her right away, in spite of the throbbing urgency in his cock. She fondled his cock lovingly, her hand curled exactly right, applying just enough pressure, moving back and forth neither too fast nor too slowly.
He tested the tidbits that were her nipples, drawing them to his kiss, then letting them slip away again. He treated them this way several times, going from one to the other and back. He teased each aureole thoroughly. He clasped the firm breasts in turn and maneuvered them back and forth along his lips.
He tried to extend the area of his kissing, starting to back up on his knees so that he could have access to her lush little pussy, but she said, "No. I want you to screw me now. Screw me hard and fast. Make up for all the months I've gone without it."
He moved over her and she guided his shaft to the entrance of her cunt. He pressed inside and the sensation was the most marvelous he had ever experienced.
He began to thrust and she thrust her hips with him. Her cunt muscles were very responsive. They seemed to anticipate the exact timing of each of his moves. As they balled each other, the complete male making love to the female of his dreams, the sensation got better and better. He murmured and nuzzled her ear, then gently sucked the quivering pinnacle of each lovely breast with his lips.
He lowered his cock as deeply into her snug vagina as he could, and she wrapped her legs lovingly around his back, squeezing him in a little more.
"Now screw me!" she cried. "Give me all I need!"
He gave. And he gave with love, not hate. As he exerted himself with a hard, rapid pace, her pelvis pounded and her cunt muscles clutched. She gasped and cried and moaned, "I love this! Oh, darling, I love you so much!"
As soon as she had uttered this declaration, her vagina began to tighten. She made a shrill, wildly passionate sound, and pulled herself hard to him, her hips convulsing. He felt her come deeply, along every inch of cock. He strained, and his release found him, also.
It was shattering.
He fell forward, breathing hard, his perspiration mingling with hers to form a slick lubrication between their bodies. He found an adorable nipple with his open mouth and caressed it as she moaned in happiness.
She was still coming spasmodically, as ripples of ebbing passion continued to move through her.
As he pushed himseld up on his arms, she pleaded, "Don't leave me. Stay where you are. Keep screwing."
He found to his amazement that he was not yet sated. He still had a hard-on.
He did so, moving slowly with deliberate strokes.
She moaned and said, "That's so great ... so wonderful ... I could screw you all day."
Her hips moved with his. The bed sighed steadily. Minutes passed in their inexorable pace, but to the lovers on the bed it seemed as if time were standing still.
Very gradually Jeff increased the tempo. Kris came along. By the time he was swinging vigorously at her again, she was as ready as he was for another climax. They strove for it with an intensity that was all-consuming. They cried and panted together. They gasped. The bed frame clattered against the wall. Jeff jammed his feet against the low board at the end of it, and moved with a ferocity that was born of the deepest urges he had ever felt.
When they had their second release, exactly together, the world seemed to tilt and sway and then go plunging through trackless space. For moments Jeff was aware of nothing except this glorious swooping sensation, and then he was aware that he was lying against her firm breasts and soft belly, her arms and legs enfolding him and she was kissing him all around his neck and ears.
"I love you," he murmured. He could not remember when he had last spoken those words to anyone.
They talked for quite a while. He told her everything about his past, except the circumstances of his mother's death. In general terms he discussed his feelings toward his father. Kris was a sympathetic listener. He made clear why he didn't feel he could stay on at the company even if his father had wanted him to do so.
And she understood when he said he wanted to be by himself for a while, to think things out.
Chapter 12
Jeff drove to the airport at Redding and from there, placed a call to his wife.
"Where are you?" she demanded. "Betty and her husband are itching for another four-way romp. In fact ..." She laughed wickedly. "George suggested that we all share the same bed-he and Betty on top, then turnabout. What do you think?" She tittered again.
"I think it smells."
There was silence.
"I told you to get rid of them," he said, "but I knew you wouldn't. So I'm the one who's leaving."
"Jeff, you can't!"
"Like hell. I'm at the airport now. A flight takes off for Los Angeles in ten minutes, and I'm going to be on it."
"I didn't think you meant it, darling, when you told me to ask the Finstads to leave. You were very drunk, you know."
"Well, I'm sober now. Call the company on Monday, will you, and tell them where the car is. I'll tuck the keys under the floor mat."
"I .. .don't understand. You're going to work Monday?"
"Dad fired me."
"That's wonderful! Now we can all go back to L.A. I'll tell Lupe to start packing."
"You can do what you like, but I won't be at the apartment when you get there. I need a long time to think. I believe you do, too."
"This sounds a little serious," she remarked, her own tone suddenly subdued.
"It's as serious as things can get between a husband and wife. The truth is, Sophia, that I'm not happy. I've never been happy, really. All this time. I've just been kidding myself."
"Well, what do you expect me to do?"
"I don't know. The problem's mine."
"It's sure going to be yours if you walk out on me. I'll never take you back, Jeff. You'd better believe that. And when I get you in court, I'll milk you for every penny you've got or ever will have."
"Fine. I'm glad you said that. It makes everything much easier." He hung up the telephone.
On the flight to Los Angeles there was a prettier stewardess than the one who had served on the flight north, several days before. But Jeff hardly gave her derriere a glance. It might have been molded from foam rubber, for all he cared.
He could still feel the warm embrace of Kris. She had given him so much more than just her body. She had given him more than he'd ever gotten from another woman. Or perhaps the truth was that he, for the first time in his life, had been really receptive.
He began to wonder whether the delightful blonde who had said she loved him, and to whom he had pledged his own love, in fact represented something new and important in his life, or whether he was kidding himself. After all, he didn't know her very well, and he had been beset by many conflicting emotions in the last few days. Returning to Cannon Oaks had, in itself, been a traumatic experience and there had been his involvement at the office and his face-to-face confrontation with the father whose very existence he had sought to forget during the last few years.
He had a lot of thinking to do. And perhaps some testing ...
When he arrived in Los Angeles, he got into a taxi. "Sunset Strip," he said.
"That's a couple miles long, mister," the cabbie replied. "You want to break it down a little?"
"Okay," he agreed, mentioning a bar at the intersection of the street that led up the hill to his apartment house. Later, he could walk to the apartment from there. For the time being, he wasn't anxious to return home.
He sat back and watched the evening traffic flow around them as the driver headed the cab east on Century Boulevard, then up the ramp to the San Diego Freeway. They moved north for a little way and dropped off on La Cienega-the boulevard which, past Wilshire, was known as restaurant row. Many were the nights, Jeff mused, when he dropped a good piece of change squiring cheap chicks to those spots. They were cheap in the sense that they were easy lays, but not in their tastes when they found a man who would spend money on them.
Money and sex, he thought. Do they really make the world go around, after all?
La Cienega merged with Sunset and the cab swung to the left. Very quickly it pulled to the curb and stopped. "Here we are, mister," the cabbie announced.
"Now for some serious drinking," Jeff said as he paid the fare and added a handsome tip.
"Have one for me," the cabbie told him.
The small club was dim and unfamiliar. Jeff had never patronized the place. Always in the past, when he was this close to home, he had done his drinking in the apartment.
He sat down at the bar and ordered Scotch and water.
- He wasn't sure just when he became aware of the girl. A man had been seated between them at the bar; now he was gone. Jeff had glanced around the room casually a couple of times, then had returned his attention to his glass. He was halfway through the second refill when his eyes became a little lost in the back-bar mirror. He drank some more. And then he glanced down the bar and found the girl smiling at him-not a big Sunday promenade smile, or the kind of smile he would have expected from a person who was selling something. This was more of a glimmer with the eyes, a slight quirk at the corner of the mouth.
It caused him to look at the girl more closely.
He didn't recognize her at first. He thought she was just a white-blonde with an impressive chest. Girls with that shade of hair were not a rarity in Hollywood, and impressive chests were even more numerous than palm trees.
He let his gaze drift to her supple waist and to the fullness of her hips against the bar stool. She was wearing a blue skimpy dress, off the shoulders and hiked high above her knees. A stray beam of light caught the metallic clasp of a garter on her near thigh.
Suddenly Jeff had an urge to unhook the garter. And her other garters. He had an urge to lift her skirt and slide her panties off.
He picked up his drink and carried it down the bar. When he was beside her, he realized he was gazing, close up for the first time, at the girl he had frequently observed through the telescope in his den-the one he had last watched screwing a dark-skinned man.
And this chick wasn't really a blonde at all. Her natural hair was as dark as that of her recent dark-skinned lover.
"Hello," he said, and sat down. He now had a greater desire than ever to make her. He often had wondered how the girl managed to maneuver her boy friends in front of a wide-spread window for their orgies. She obviously was an exhibitionist, but he was damned if he was going to play the sucker for her perverted scheme. When they arrived at her apartment-if they did-he was going to avoid all windows like the plague.
She charmingly enhanced her smile and said, "Do I know you?"
It obviously was not an attempt to brush him off, but rather an immediate opening which she expected him to fill.
"We've met," he said. "Don't you remember? A party one night at PJ's."
"Oh."
"I'm Jeff Bardell," he smiled.
"Liza Dubois," she said.
"Of course. May I?" He indicated her glass.
She gave a giddy little laugh. "Thank you."
Hr ordered refills for them both.
The pickup was absurdly easy, and even before they stepped into a taxi at the front door of the club for the three-block, uphill ride to her place, Jeff was wondering if he wanted to go through with it. It wasn't that Liza was not pretty enough. She had eye-opening dimensions boob-wise and, as he was just now fully appreciating, at the hips as well. She was bent forward, climbing into the taxi in front of him, and he had an insane urge to grasp the wiggling curves which were so temptingly displayed. But, since he was not insane, he fought the urge down.
She sat, cocked one pretty leg over the other, and smiled at him. He had consumed five drinks and he judged she'd had at least that many. This made for a certain erotic euphoria. But the girl was obviously just another easy lay.
Since when had easy lays offended him, he wondered in sudden surprise. Throughout his adult life he had looked to ladies of easy virtue (as his grandfather would have called them) for most of his sex. Jeff had always regarded them as God's gift to the ever-ready male. Now, suddenly, he had become a moralist.
That was a laugh.
He relaxed a little and resolved to roll with the punches. "
He glanced frequently at Liza during the short drive to her place. The street was a little uneven and the taxi twisted and turned. All this up and down, back and forth motion caused the exposed tops of Liza's luscious breasts to tremble. Now he could hardly wait to get her inside the apartment and push that dress down.
Nothing had been said about a fee. The girl obviously fraternized for fun. He asked her earlier if she was an actress and she had said no, that she was a model . . . off and on. He imagined she could be seen most any day on any Main Street newsstand if a man were to flip up the pages of the right nudie magazine. She probably had appeared in porno films, too. A broad who was such an exhibitionist wouldn't have missed any chances along that line.
She offered him more booze when they were inside her apartment, but he said, "I'd rather drink you," and fitted his lips to hers.
Before he could slip his tongue into her mouth, she had already slid hers between his teeth. He let her handle the pressure. As her tongue rubbed his and circled around, he lowered both hands to the perky, but soft curves of her ass. He cupped the cheeks and juggled them as she kissed him. He gripped them and wiggled them around, drawing her pelvis tightly to his at the same time. His cock commenced enlarging.
When she felt this, she broke the kiss and barked away.
"Come on," she murmured. "In here."
He resisted her pulling at his arm. "Wait a minute. Is that the room with the big window?"
"Big window?" She blinked.
"Yeah. Maybe I shouldn't say this, but. . . well, the fact is I've been spying on you for weeks "
"Really?" Her face lit up.
"Mmm. I've got a big, long telescope."
She tittered. "I can see that." She pointed at the tent in his slacks.
"Never mind. I really have a telescope, and my apartment is just a little ways up the hill. I've watched you screwing other men."
"Jeff!" she exclaimed in mock disapproval.
"You perform charmingly. Don't get me wrong. But I'm a little sensitive about being spied on. I mean, if other guys are willing, that's okay. But I would rather have you all to myself while we're together."
"Don't worry," she murmured, tugging at his arm again. "We won't use the bedroom with the wide window. We'll use this one." She pulled him through an open doorway.
The room was luxuriously done, like her other one, in pinks and white and beige-but it had no window, only a wide, pink-tinted mirror that took up nearly an entire wall.
"See?" she said pointing. "We can watch ourselves. Isn't that far-out?"
If Jeff had not had so many drinks so quickly, he might have smelled a mouse. But, as it was, all he smelled was the girl-and Chantilly fragrance of Liza, and the idea of the mirror and the lights remaining on pleased him.
They undressed.
The bra she wore was very low-cut, a pair of half-shells that barely concealed her nipples. When she took the bra away, her breasts relaxed slightly. Her nipples were already standing out like rosy pegs.
Jeff undressed quickly, and could not keep from glancing at himself in the mirror as he looked at the real and reflected images of Liza. He could see all aspects of her at once this way-her breasts and the front of her pale blue panty briefs and, in the mirror, the seat of her panties where the nylon stretched taut, allowing the bottom curves of her buttocks to partially escape.
Her thighs were particularly appealing in the soft light, and even more toothsome reflected in the rosy mirror. He wanted to kiss them right away, but he restrained the urge and quickened the pace of his undressing.
Finally, when both he and Liza were nude, they tumbled together on her king-sized bed.
He kissed her all over.
Strangely, as he was kissing, he became aware of how very different this was from the rendezvous he'd had with Kris that morning. Liza's breasts were softer and more globular, and the circles around her nipples didn't puff up as Kris' did. Liza's nipples were a little more pink, while Kris' were a delicate beige. But that didn't matter. It didn't matter either that Liza's pussy was a different color than the hair on her head, or that she giggled foolishly when he kissed her belly button. Those were superficial phenomena. The important thing was that he felt different about what he was doing. This was partially on a physical plane, as evidenced by the fact that his slight erection for her was not nearly as hard as it had been for Kris. (But the alcohol could have accounted for that or the mere fact of his having just screwed Kris that morning.) Mainly, it was a psychological factor. Liza, sexy and voluptuous as she was, didn't attract him as deeply as Kris did. There was an element missing.
He could conclude only that the difference had to do with Liza herself-the person rather than the body-who she was, what she was, and what she represented to him.
He didn't trouble himself about it at the time. Now his prick was pointing the way, and he proceeded to milk all the delights of her hot, quivering flesh. He kissed up and down her leg, as he had promised himself he would. He flopped Liza onto her stomach and kissed down the gentle
S-curve of her back to the point where it flared up at him in plump, close-set buttocks.
"Kiss my ass," she said. "Please."
There was really no reason why he shouldn't, It was a sweet, dainty vista With all the voluptuous appeal a man could ask. But he didn't.
She whimpered as he rolled her over and watched her round breasts float back and forth and eventually come to a quivering stop atop her ribcage.
She lifted her legs, pulled her cuntlips open with her hands and whined, "Come on, honey, come on and fuck me now."
It was during the initial moment, as he slipped his kick into her gash, that the difference between her and Kris was brought powerfully back to his mind. Here again, the difference was not strictly physical-though his feelings played an important part. Kris had been a woman, a human being, whereas Liza was merely a cunt-a cunt he had fucked hundreds of time-no, thousands, but with hundreds of different broads.
As he began his strokes and as Liza moved her hips with him, whimpering, mewing, acting as if she could hardly get enough, the difference seemed even more apparent. He was not as homy and emotionally involved as he had been with Kris. -
He fucked her quickly, inconsiderately, wanting to get it over with. But Liza was not to be hurried. She kept looking at the mirrored image of the two of them, and Jeff, propped on his arms, glanced at it, too. This had a tendency to speed things up even more.
When he finally spurted his seed into her fevered pussy, shuddered and felt her shuddering with him, he was more relieved than ecstatic.
As soon as it was over, he stood up.
"What's the matter, sweetie?" she murmured lazily. "Wasn't I good?"
"You were great. Just great. I can recommend you highly."
"Oh, would you?"
The bitch actually seemed serious. He gave her a thin smile and began putting on his clothes.
She remained where she was, spread apart on the bed as he had seen her many times through the telescope.
Her blue panties were lying on the rug, and Jeff picked them up. Whimsically he draped them over the top of the bedside lamp.
"What did you do that for?" she asked lazily.
"Oh, I don't know," he said. "A note of blue contrasts nicely with the pink in the room."
"You're crazy," she giggled.
He didn't take much time for amenities before leaving.
As he walked the rest of the way to his own apartment, he thought about calling Kris right away. There was no use kidding himself. She did mean something special to him, something very special. He was more sure of it now, after being with another girl. He wasn't at all certain that little Liza might not turn out to be the last girl of her type that he would ever go to bed with.
He entered the silent apartment which had been home to him for the past two years. He looked casually around.
He had no feeling for the place, really. It was an upholstered playground, comparable in its way to the grass and concrete playgrounds that were provided for children.
He strolled into the den where the telescope tolled forward on its tripod in front of the window-wall. Many were the sights he had seen through that. The sights had amused him between bouts of his own, or when he needed a little added stimulation to prepare him for what had long ago become a largely joyless romping with his wife.
As he thought about Sophia now, he had little feeling one way or the other. He had never been in love with her. Now there was no hate. There was, if anything, a faint tinge of nostalgia-simple nostalgia, that was all.
He smiled to himself and idly tilted the eyepiece of the telescope up to his face. He scanned the horizon, hunting for the widest window he ever peeked into-the one in Liza's apartment. He expected it to be dark now, but he thought he would check, just for fun. She wasn't above entertaining another man right after she had romped with him, he was sure. He had watched her take on two and even three in a night, on several occasions.
There!
The window was alight. He adjusted the focus and peered more closely.
The room was pink and white, like the one he had just left. In fact, the bed was rumpled much as Liza and he had rumpled the one on which he'd just taken her.
A note of contrasting color struck his eye and, with sudden swift comprehension, his face became bathed in scarlet. He had taken her in front of the wide window after all, for there were her blue panties draped on top of the lamp shade where he had put them. The mirror was the answer. It was a two-way job. To the people in the room, it reflected what they were doing, and at the same time advertised their activities to the whole world.
"Fuck!"
Thought crossed his mind:
Go back there and beat that cunt's fanny until it's tomato red.
Call the police and complain about a "public nuisance."
Forget it.
The third thought was the one he tried to act on. Anyway, what difference did it make? If someone had watched him with her, he hoped they had enjoyed themselves. There was precious little real enjoyment in the world, he realized now.
He stepped to the telephone, intent upon consolidating his claim to the one source of true enjoyment that he had. Kris would leave Cannon Oaks he was sure. He could persuade her to do that. If she insisted on taking a job with another company, he would let her. In the meantime, he would line up something for himself. The fact that he didn't have to work was not going to mean he would remain idle any more. There was too much to be done in the world.
The ringing of the telephone, just as he reached for it, startled him. It was almost as if it had responded to the signal of his thoughts or to the lifting of his hand, as a magician's gimmick might do.
He picked it up. "Hello?"
"Mister Jeff Bardell, please. Cannon Oaks, California, calling."
Sophia, he thought. Then: Dad.
He didn't want to speak with either of them. He thought about hanging up. But something made him remain on the line. He finally said, "Yes, this is Bardell."
"Go ahead, please," the operator instructed.
"Jeff? Darling?"
It was Kris.
"Yes, sweetheart! How are you? It's so wonderful to hear your voice. My God, it's really you!"
"And wonderful to hear yours, except I wish you weren't so far away. Can you talk?"
"Of course."
I've spent all afternoon and evening working on the Glu-Pane thing. I even went to the company lab and looked over the results of the experiments we ran yesterday. You know, Jeff, the hunch you had about the new process was right. And those shortcuts you suggested for the administrative end of it-they're sure to work."
"You're sure?"
"No doubt about it now. I thought you would want to know."
"Yes. I'm glad you called. Of course, I would have been glad anyway, darling. The truth is, I was about to call you. I wanted to ask you to leave there and join me in L.A."
"Jeff! Now that we know the project is sound, you can come back here. You can make Kelly look like the silly ass he is, and persuade your father to put you back in charge."
"Persuade Dad? Oh, darling, you don't know your Bardells."
"I know one of them-you. And I know this is exactly what you need. You've proved yourself on this project-the very first one you tackled. Now you have to convince your father. You have to face up to him and get your own way for once. After that, you won't feel the same about him as you used to, and he'll have respect for you."
Jeff remained silent. He was wondering if perhaps she was right.
"Don't you see? You've always given in to your father's tyranny. Running away and wasting your life was just as much an expression of defeat as remaining here under his domination would have been. Well, now you don't have to do either. You can come back to take your rightful place at the head of this company. I'll tell you this much-I'm not going to hand the results of our work over to Kelly. If you don't come back, the Glu-Pane project will go down the drain and the company will lose several million dollars in the years to come."
"But there's something I haven't told you," he said. "There's the way my mother died."
"What about it? She was a suicide. That's well known in town."
"But why did she kill herself? That's what people don't know. But I do. It was Dad's ruthless domination of her. He sapped her of the desire to live."
"Have you ever discussed that with him?" Kris asked slowly.
"No. I can't outright accuse him, because there's nothing tangible. But I know the old man. I know how he always treated me. Looking back on it, I can see that he must have treated Mother the same way."
"Jeff the townspeople know why she killed herself. I've heard it from two or three different sources. Your father evidently didn't tell you because he didn't want to compound the hurt, and you were young when you left here. Then too, she had only been dead a very short time."
"What are you getting at? What have you heard?"
"She was incurably ill," Kris said. "It was a rapidly spreading cancer. She found out about it less than a month before she died."
"Then that would explain why she was so disturbed," he murmured, as much to himself as to the woman he loved on the other end of the phone. "And all these years I've blamed Dad."
"He probably deserves some blame for the way he treated you, and perhaps for the way he treated her, also-for being the driving sort of individual he is. But that quality made the company successful, and that quality will cause him to appreciate what you've accomplished and take you back."
Jeff let his mind range quickly over the years, then a broad smile spread across his face, overcoming the sense of tragedy associated with his father's death. She would want him and his father to be reunited. Now he wanted that, too.
"Jeff? Darling? What do you say?"
"Reserve a room for me at a motel. The Morning Glory is all right. I'll be there tomorrow."
"A motel isn't necessary if you're thinking that your wife is at the house. I called there a little while ago to see if you were still in town, and she told me you had left. She also said she was about to catch a plane for Reno."
"No kidding!" he shouted gleefully.
"Easy, darling. I'm afraid you're going to have a fight on your hands."
"Since when was I afraid of a fight--with her, with Dad, with anybody. I love you, understand? I want to marry you. What.do you say to that?"
"There's only one thing I can say--yes!"
"That's all I wanted to hear, sweetheart. I'll be on the first plane in the morning. I'm coming home to stay!"
