Loretta had no idea what she was getting into, but she had stars in her eyes, when she joined the Prudence Chancellor Dance Company. She had always wanted to dance, but everything was happening so fast it made her head spin.
She didn't realize it at the time, but Prudence's personal selection of her to join the company of their newest and biggest world-wide tour, had more than just the obvious reasons behind it.
Prudence was interested in the girl on a physical as well as a mere talent level.
Loretta went flying from one hot affair to another in Europe. There were a lot of cocks to suck, and a lot of pricks to go ramming in and out of her cunt.
Even Prudence herself got in on the action eventually, and all of this left Loretta with an experience that would stay with her the rest of her life, an experience that brought her bursting into adulthood, flying on a road of pure eroticism and lust, a road that Loretta adjusted to and liked more than just slightly.
CHAPTER ONE
"Please tell me that you won't go, Loretta, please? If you go, I may never see you again, and I don't think I could stand that."
Nancy's plea had a ring of anguish in it, and it pulled at Loretta's heartstrings. Impulsively, she turned towards her friend in the darkness, putting her arms around Nancy's shaking shoulders. She held Nancy close, feeling the warmth of the girl's body, in the big double bed. She had her own bedroom in the apartment, and it was there that she usually slept. But tonight was different, and she and Nancy had agreed to sleep together.
"Nancy, please don't cry like that. You agreed that I should accept the offer to go to London. And it's silly to say you'll never see me again. You know you will see me again."
Nancy didn't answer for awhile, but lay in Loretta's arms making small snuffling sounds. How could she tell Loretta what she was really feeling? How could she tell the black-haired, beautiful Loretta that she, Nancy Williams, was in love with her. Had always been in love with her from the first moment that they had met almost a year ago.
She had been twenty then, and Loretta had been just eighteen. She would always remember that hot, humid New York summer's day. She had been rummaging about in an old bookshop in Greenwich Village. She was interested in books, and had a good job in a large New York publishing house. She knew she was lucky, at her age, to be the personal assistant to Rodney Sterling, the man who owned and ran the publishing concern
"Oh, I'm sorry!"
Nancy turned as someone bumped into her from behind, and books clattered to the floor at her feet. She found herself looking into the sparkling black eyes of a slimlybuilt girl with long, shining black hair, and a peaches-and-cream complexion. The girl's full red lips were parted in a friendly smile, and Nancy had immediately returned that smile.
"That's okay. Let me help you pick up your books," she had replied.
And that had been that. They left the bookshop together, talking as if they had known each other for years. They exchanged telephone numbers; they went out together; they became good friends. Finally, Nancy had asked Loretta if she would like to move into her apartment in Greenwich Village itself. Loretta had accepted, her own living quarters being cramped and depressing. And all the while Nancy had desired Loretta, without daring, or even knowing how to, express that desire.
And then one evening Loretta had burst into the apartment, her large, expressive eyes alight with excitement. The great Prudence Chancellor had visited the small off-Broadway theater, where Loretta was dancing in the chorus line of a not very good musical.
"She spoke to me! She singled me out! Me!" she had cried, dancing around the room, eventually stopping to hug Nancy around the waist.
"What are you talking about? Who spoke to you? Who singled you out?" Nancy had asked her excited friend, trying to hold her still.
"Prudence Chancellor. The great, fabulous, famous Prudence Chancellor. And I've got an audition tomorrow. Just think of it! Oh, Nancy, isn't it exciting?"
And Nancy had agreed. It was exciting. Loretta needed a break. She was a good dancer. Not a classical ballet dancer Loretta didn't agree with the principles of classical ballet, thinking it too artificial, too removed from real life. She had received her training at a school that encouraged free expression of movement, and Loretta's body was made for that sort of dance. She was slim, lithe, athletic and possessed enormous stamina. But when she danced, Loretta also danced with her heart, expressing what she felt personally about the music to which she was dancing. She had often talked about Prudence Chancellor and her company, and indeed had tried several times to get an audition with the great Prudence Chancellor. But she had been unsuccessful.
And now, suddenly, out of the blue, Prudence Chancellor descends unexpectedly on the small, little-known, off-Broadway theater and actually offers to audition Loretta. Nancy was as thrilled as Loretta. It was, they both agreed, a real break.
Miss Chancellor was one of the world's few great choreographers who believed in allowing her dancers free expression. Who encouraged the boys and girls of her company to use their bodies, and didn't try to confine them within the dictates of carefully designed, choreographic dance steps. She was a woman who professed to have vision and "soul." She had been Loretta's idol for as long as she could remember, and now Loretta had actually met the woman who headed the world-famous troupe of dancers.
And then the blow had fallen. Loretta had gone for the audition and had been offered a six months contract on the spot. That had been marvelous of course, but what came next was like a body blow to the heart for Nancy.
"That's not all," Loretta had added breathlessly. "The company is going to London, and I'm to go with them. I'm so excited I could die."
Nancy had turned away, so that Loretta couldn't see the hurt, dazed expression on her face.
"That's marvelous, darling," she had forced herself to say. Although her voice sounded odd, strained, Loretta hadn't noticed.
"Let's go out and celebrate," Loretta had suggested. "Come on, I'll buy you a big, slap-up dinner. We'll have champagne."
So they had gone out for their big slap-up dinner, and they had drunk champagne, and to Nancy it tasted like vinegar. That had been three weeks ago, and now the time had come for Loretta to leave for England.
It was her last night in New York, her last night in Nancy's apartment in Greenwich Village. And Nancy had broken down at the last minute. Something which she had promised herself she wouldn't do. But the strain had been too great, and the nearness of Loretta, in her big warm bed had completely broken her resolve. She didn't want Loretta to leave New York. She wished Prudence Chancellor didn't exist. She wished-
She moved closer to Loretta's slim body. "Are you sure I'll see you again, Loretta?" she asked in a small voice.
Loretta, now half asleep, moved her head and kissed Nancy on the cheek reassuringly. She didn't know why her friend was suddenly so upset about her going to London. It was a marvelous opportunity, and up to now Nancy had agreed that it was the break she had been looking for.
So why the tears, Loretta thought to herself. But then, she supposed Nancy always had been a little possessive ever since they first met. Not that she resented this possessiveness, it was nice to have someone who really cared for you. And Nancy had been the best friend she had ever had. She was always so poised, so assured, so willing to listen to one's problems, and to give advice. Nancy, with her short auburn hair, plump, but nicely-shaped figure, and liquid brown eyes. Nancy, who was always sensible beyond her twenty-one years, and who always encouraged her in her work, even when things looked bleak.
Loretta tightened her arms around Nancy's shoulders, which had now stopped shaking. It was the first time she had ever seen Nancy lose her composure, and she found it touching. Nancy was really upset because she was going to London; upset because she thought they might never meet again. That was silly, and unlike Nancy. Of course, they would meet again. She didn't intend to stay in London forever.
The two girls were now lying so close that their breasts were crushed together beneath the flimsy material of the shortie nightgowns which they both wore. Nancy was acutely conscious of this, suffering agonies of frustration at the hard thrust of Loretta's delectable melons against her. own.
She desperately tried to control herself, her body almost trembling with the effort. But in spite of herself, she couldn't stop running a hand slowly down Loretta's side, caressing the slim waist and girlish hips through the excitingly thin material of her nightgown. And once she started, she didn't seem able to stop. Up and down her hand traveled, stroking, caressing, getting bolder at every moment. She didn't even stop when Loretta spoke.
"Nancy, don't you want to go to sleep?" Loretta asked in a low, uncertain voice, and Nancy's heart leaped in her breast. Perhaps Loretta wouldn't mind if-
No sooner had the thought entered her head than Nancy had slipped her hand beneath Loretta's nightie, which was already fucked up around her thighs. Immediately, she felt Loretta stiffen, and her hand froze into immobility.
"Nancy, what are you doing?" Loretta whispered, although she made no effort to remove Nancy's hand which had gone underneath her nightie and slipped between her thighs. She knew she ought to snatch Nancy's hand from between her legs. She knew she ought to be shocked, even horrified. And so she was, but only up to a point. Lying there in the warm darkness, Loretta suddenly realized that she had always known this would happen between herself and Nancy. It was just something which she had never cared to face-thrusting it back into her mind. It had always been there, plain enough for anyone with eyes to see. But she hadn't wanted to view her relationship with Nancy as anything but the fact that they were friends. But really and truly, she had always known, deep down inside her, that Nancy's attitude toward her went beyond the bounds of being a mere friend.
Nancy has given her a home, cooked her meals, collected her from the theater in her old Buick. Nancy had done so many things that no ordinary friend would do, and she had accepted it all. Accepted it and been grateful, knowing all the time, deep down, why Nancy did all these things. Not that she had any experience in these matters: It was just intuition. Intuition which so far she had managed to ignore. But she couldn't ignore it now, not with Nancy's hand resting between her naked legs. Not with Nancy's bosom resting so heavily against her own. It wasn't possible any longer to ignore what had been left unsaid for so long.
"Don't you like me doing that?" Nancy whispered back, her voice breathless with emotion.
Loretta didn't reply immediately. So this was what Nancy wanted-what she had probably wanted since the day they first met. A feeling of revulsion swept over Loretta, but she shrugged it aside immediately. Nancy was her friend, her best friend. Nancy had done so much for her, and now she could do something for Nancy. Why not? It was the least she could do to repay all the kindness which she had received. The least she could do-
"If-If that's what you want to do, I don't mind," she whispered back in a choked voice, and instantly felt Nancy's lips pressing against her own. They were such soft lips, and Nancy's skin was so smooth. Not at all like the men she had known with their hard mouths and bristly chins. Nancy's tongue now pressed against her teeth, and she parted them slightly, allowing it to enter her mouth. She found it a pleasant sensation, and a tiny trickle of desire shivered its way down Loretta's spine. It was the first time she had ever done this with her own sex, although she had received one or two veiled propositions from girls she had met in the theater. The idea had never attracted her, and somehow it had always appeared unnatural and repulsive. Until this moment, that is. But then, Nancy was different. She was a real friend. She had proved it in many ways. Nancy was a sweet, kind person, and if she wanted to do this thing-Nancy, shivering with helpless desire, could only feel grateful that her advances had not been scorned and ridiculed. Unlike Loretta she had experienced lesbian love, although that had been some years ago with a woman much older than herself. But she had never forgotten that period of her life, even though she tried to pretend to herself that it was just a schoolgirl infatuation.
When Loretta had walked into her life, however, she stopped trying to keep up the pretence. From that moment, she knew for certain where her interests lay, and she had spread her wings around the young, impulsive Loretta, like a mother hen protecting her young.
However, having gained the complete confidence of the girl, even getting her to live in the Greenwich Village apartment, she hadn't enough experience to follow up her advantage. Loretta had seemed as far away as ever, passionately devoted to her dancing career, and of course, her boy friends. Not that Loretta ever seemed to take any of them very seriously, at least she didn't have to suffer that. But even so, until tonight she hadn't dared to declare her passion. And she wouldn't have done so even now, if Loretta hadn't been leaving New York tomorrow. She felt that she had to take the risk-the risk of losing Loretta's friendship. The fact that Loretta hadn't turned away from her filled Nancy with a wild joy which she wanted to use, now, to her best advantage.
She leaned over towards Loretta, looking into her eyes and again brushed her lips against the girl's. Pulsations of power and pleasure coursed through Nancy's body. She could reel with delight at her friend's trembling body. Loretta began to moan a little, as she had the incredible new experience of sexually communicating with a woman.
Nancy's lips began to wander over her prospective lover's body, lingering on the soft, delicate smooth nape of her neck. She moved her hands up under the nightie, caressing the now hard little nuts of Loretta's breasts while her lips lingered.
Then in one easy motion, Nancy transferred her oral manipulation to Loretta's lovely firm breasts, as her hands pulled the nightie over the woman's head. Loretta was now naked. Nancy was gasping with pleasure and she began also to use her hair as a soft wave, rubbing it back and forth over her lover's skin. She moved her body against Loretta's, stroking their tits together.
Loretta was beginning to writhe. Nancy knew that the time was ripe for the plucking of this neophyte lesbian. She moved her hand slowly down the other's body, trailing across her belly, down and down until it reached Loretta's nether region. Their tongues also began to work together again.
Feeling Nancy's hands and tongue on her body, Loretta got her first real sexual thrill. The hand between her legs was so small, so soft, so sensually lascivious-unlike anything she had experienced before. She drew in her breath, sucking Nancy's busy tongue deep into her throat, suddenly wanting something positive to happen.
Again, she felt that tickling sensation of her pubic hairs, causing her cunt lips to quiver and itch with a kind of delightful anticipation. She sucked harder on Nancy's tongue, and wriggled herself closer with a sexy movement of her hips. When at last Nancy's fingers really got to work, any doubts which Loretta may have had about the proceedings, were swept away. She was beginning to enjoy herself, and it was no longer a question of allowing herself to be used in this way. She wanted to be used.
By the time Nancy had stealthily inserted her hand high up between Loretta's legs, brushing against the incredibly soft pubic hairs, she knew that she had succeeded in awakening Loretta's interest. She became bolder. Taking her hand from between Loretta's legs, she smoothed her palm over the exciting expanse of her friend's belly, thrilling to the subtle swell of her mons veneris. Gently, but firmly, she pushed Loretta onto her back, making sure that their lips remained glued together, as she did so. She now leaned over Loretta's recumbent figure, and long minutes passed by while she resumed her tonguing of Loretta's mouth. And all the while, her hand was busy-very busy-trying to infuse into Loretta the same excitement that she was feeling herself. And slowly, she succeeded.
It was when Loretta gave a long sigh, and her legs parted of their own accord, that Nancy knew she had won. There would be no going back now, no sudden revulsion on Loretta's part. They were both caught up on the tide of unstoppable lust that could only have one ending. But still, Nancy didn't rush things. She longed for Loretta to reach out and fondle her own wetly desiring quim, but she wasn't going to ask her to do it. She was going to wait until Loretta herself made a move in this direction.
Once Nancy had pushed Loretta onto her back, there was no doubt in Loretta's mind that she was being slowly worked up to a point of no return. She sighed and opened her legs, inviting Nancy to really have a go at her trembling sex bud. She was disappointed when Nancy didn't oblige, but instead slid her had upwards, away from her hot little quim. Soon, however, she felt a further delight encompass her senses. Nancy was pushing her nightie up around her neck, and she helped in this process, by lifting her body slightly. It was then that she felt a new thrill as Nancy's every so gentle hand pushed the flimsy nightie over her titties, lingering on the softly rounded balls of flesh as she did so.
It was when Nancy started to play with her baubles, urging the tingling teats to erect under her nimble fingers, that Loretta made her first definite move in this lesbian love play. She pushed her hand up into Nancy's damp crotch, closing it greedily over the beautiful, swelling mound of Nancy's thick-lipped and very sexy cunt. Not content with this, she reached out with her other hand and maneuvered both Nancy's fully ripe tits out of the low neck of her nightie.
Nancy was in her seventh heaven. Loretta was reaching out for her. It was no longer a one-sided affair. Her friend was willing to give as well as receive pleasure. It was all that she had ever wanted, and now it was actually happening. As her titties popped out of the top of her nightie, and Loretta's hand closed over one of the dangling orbs, the flames of lust completely engulfed Nancy.
With a strangled moan, she tore her lips away from Loretta's mouth, and pushing the bedclothes aside, buried her head between her friend's legs, her mouth closing over the wet lips of Loretta's adorable pussy. Many more minutes passed while Nancy kept her face buried in Loretta's bush, savoring the taste and smell of the dribbling, open cunt-hole onto which she was pressing her devouring lips. And all the time, Loretta continued to fondle and caress her hanging titties, squeezing the hotly erect teats until Nancy could have screamed with pleasure. Not only this, but Loretta had removed her other hand from its original position up the front of Nancy's legs, which had disappointed Nancy, until she felt Loretta's hands steal around to Nancy's beautiful bottom. Gently, Loretta inserted her hand up and between Nancy's legs from the rear, pinching and petting the fat twat which she found there until great shudders began to rack Nancy's body.
It was at this point, that Nancy, unable to delay any longer, pried open Loretta's quim lips with both hands, and deliberately stuck her nose into the aromatic sex hole. As she did this, her nose nudged Loretta's clitoris, causing it to erect sharply, and immediately, Nancy's deep sniff inside Loretta's most intimate orifice was cut off, her nostrils becoming clogged with love juice.
Removing her nose, Nancy replaced it with her tongue, lapping deeply into the open wound of Loretta's twat like a cat busy with a bowl of cream. While she did this, she didn't fail to keep the wet cunt lips wide apart with both hands, giving her mouth and tongue full access to the delectable treasure trove.
Loretta, by this time, was emitting a series of low moans, and her hips began to rise as time and time again, Nancy's clever tongue flipped her stiff little clitty from side to side, causing more of her sap to gush forth, which Nancy sucked avidly into her mouth.
Her head began to roll from side to side on the pillow, and her hand, playing with Nancy's quim, scrabbled at the thick outer lips with feverish intensity. Suddenly, she jammed two of her digits deep into Nancy's hole, swishing them frantically around inside the wet, silky-smooth pouch with complete abandon. Her other hand, still playing with one of Nancy's hanging baubles, tightened convulsively, squeezing the soft flesh into fantastic shapes, pulling and pushing at the viable flesh in an agony of aroused lust.
It was too much for Nancy. Licking her way into the defenseless chasm of Loretta's womb, the added excitement of Loretta's fingers whirling around inside her cunt, plus the exciting pressure on one of her tits, brought her to a sudden and dramatic climax. Pumping her ass up and down in a fury of helpless abandonment, she shot her load over Loretta's probing fingers, soaking the busy digits with cream sap.
While she was still releasing her orgasm, Loretta's hips rose into the air as she arched her body, digging her heels and head into the bed as she did so. Knowing what was about to happen, Nancy frantically kept her mouth in position over Loretta's steaming hot cunt hole, determined not to let her friend's come escape her hungry lips.
Loretta, her slender body arched like a bow, cried out with real pleasure as her spunk flowed, tickled into an unbearably long climax by Nancy's tonguing of her clitoris. She forced her hips further upwards, willing Nancy to suck ever deeper at her fast-flowing girl-juice. Loretta could plainly hear Nancy slurping the stuff into her mouth. Loretta was also aware that Nancy's own abundant spunk was soaking the two fingers she had stuck into her friend's fanny.
Weakly she allowed her fingers to slip out of their hiding place, and there was the sound of a faint squashy plop as she did so. Slowly, Loretta sank back onto the bed, and at long last, Nancy removed her spunk-filled mouth from her cleanly sucked gash.
In silence, Nancy pushed her titties back into her dressing gown, while Loretta pulled hers down from around her neck. In silence, they rearranged themselves in the big bed, and not once did they turn on the light. Although both girls had enjoyed themselves, they were both feeling a bit awkward and shy after their overt display of blatant lesbianism. At last Nancy plucked up enough courage to say something.
"Good night, Loretta," she murmured in a low, tentative voice.
Loretta didn't say anything, but leaning forward, planted a firm kiss onto Nancy's lips, thereby tasting her own cunt juice. But she didn't mind, and her action filled Nancy with an enormous feeling of peace and happiness. Impulsively, she turned towards Loretta and returned the kiss with good measure. Then, they put their arms around each other, and snuggled down in the warm bed. They were both fast asleep within minutes, and neither of them woke until several hours later, when dawn was just beginning to spread over the New York skyline.
Immediately, Nancy's hand went underneath Loretta's nightie, feeling, searching for the girl's body. It wasn't too long before Loretta also reached out, feeling her way beneath Nancy's nightie. This time neither of them were so shy.
CHAPTER TWO
Prudence Chancellor sat in her state cabin dictating her memoirs to her personal secretary, Jean Staples. Jean was Prudence's right hand, and wherever Prudence went Jean was bound to follow. They had been together for fifteen years, and during that time, their relationship had changed from that of secretary and employer. They now knew each other very well. They understood, even respected, each other. It is saying a lot for two women who have been in each other's company constantly for fifteen years. Particularly two women so diversely opposite in every way as Prudence Chancellor and her secretary, Jean Staples.
Prudence Chancellor was fifty-two. She looked about forty. And if she were asked her age point-blank, she always said thirty-five. She had been giving this age as long as Jean had worked for her, and now that Prudence had got around to writing her memoirs, she still refused to keep to the right dates.
Jean interrupted the flow of Prudence's dictation.
"If you say you were twenty when you first appeared in cabaret in Paris, that would mean earlier on in the book, where you say you captivated audiences in Las Vegas, you would be exactly two," Jean said in a dry, precise voice.
Prudence was dressed in a flowing silk garment of flamingo red, which could have just as well been a ball gown as a night gown. She had a mass of black, shining hair, which happened to be a wig, because in fact, she was nearly bald. Her eyes, however, were genuine enough-sharp, black and very intelligent.
She looked sharply across at her secretary.
"Whose bloody memoirs are these?" she asked in a deep, masculine voice.
"Why, yours of course, Prudence. But just remember that during the last fifteen years, I've been around you enough to realize what's true and what isn't. Also what will go over with the general public." said Jean glancing up and talking with the clear rationality which Prudence often lacked.
The beautifully formed woman looked at Jean with a clear and calculating eye. "All right, I was twenty-eight. And I don't want you to start kibitzing about it with me. All's fair in age and looks, and if I am going to take advantage of my still young appearance, I can't walk around saying I was so young years ago."
"I know that and you know that Prudence, dear, but when the time comes for you to go to that great dance stage in the sky, nobody down here is going to give a shit how old you are, they'll just be looking at those pictures of your luscious calves, your beautiful hard breasts or your silky.. . Why don't you just say your age in the book? As it is, it will be published posthumously. Just keep them guessing until then." the woman continued.
"I know, I know," Prudence repeated. She was almost imploring Jean. "And yet it's so hard! I will not do it!" she insisted emphatically, and began to pace around the room, swearing as she went.
The luscious woman, Prudence, in a busy way, had a knack of wearing clothes which made her look superb. She stormed up and down for a few moments, waving her arms in the air and mouthing insults in the direction of Jean. Finally, she calmed down, and sank wearily back into her sullen voice.
"Thirty-six," she muttered in a sullen voice.
Jean dutifully wrote down this number, then smiled across at Prudence. "I knew that was your age when you appeared in Paris. It was exactly one year before you employed me as your secretary. In fact, I was present at one of your performances in Paris. You were very good."
"Then why the bloody hell didn't you say so, you stupid bitch." Prudence stormed again, suddenly starting to wave her arms again.
"I had to make you say it, that's all. I'm supposed to be taking dictation, not writing your memoirs for you. Anyway, what on earth are you worrying about. You're not going to allow these memoirs to be released until you're dead."
A sudden grin crossed Prudence's face, which completely transformed it. Her fine white teeth and the sparkle in her black eyes more than hinted at what she must have looked like when she was very young.
"Yes, of course, Jean. I'd forgotten that. I'll be dead when people read what we're now writing. So why shouldn't I stick to the truth. As always, it's much stranger than fiction anyway. What do you think of the new girl Loretta Larson?"
Jean, also accustomed to Prudence's habit of completely changing the subject, thought for a moment.
"She's bold, and still naive in many ways, but she's a good dancer."
Prudence gave an exaggerated sigh. "That's not what I meant, which you bloody well know."
It was Jean's turn to sigh. "Prudence, for heaven's sake, don't get yourself involved with a chit of a girl like that. You remember what happened with Sandra? After that little episode, you swore you'd never mix pleasure with business again."
Prudence waved her arms in the air once more, causing the long, silk sleeves of her dress to fall back, revealing a complicated array of gold and silver bracelets. Charm bracelets, slave bangles, and practically every other kind of bracelet you could think of. They were worth a fortune, and they were an essential part of Prudence. When she waved her arms, which she did frequently, they rattled and clacked like a ten-piece castanet orchestra. It wasn't necessary to look around to see who was entering a room when Prudence arrived. The bracelets always sent out an advance warning system that no one who knew Prudence would fail to recognize.
"My darling Jean, I'm a full-blooded woman. You may have renounced sex, but I haven't."
Jean snapped her notebook shut. It was obvious that she wasn't going to get any more dictation out of Prudence today.
"You may be a full-blooded woman, Prudence, but you'd do well to realize that you are fifty-two and an internationally famous public figure, in control of a dancing troupe who rely on you implicitly. You were lucky to get out of the Sandra episode without any publicity. Don't push your luck too far."
The smile disappeared from Prudence's face, to be replaced by a look of resignation.
"Oh, yes, I know. And of course you're right as usual. May your soul rot in hell," she muttered. Getting up, Prudence punched a bell set in the wall of the cabin. "Let's have a drink before dinner. I'm in need of one after listening to one of your little sermons. I don't know why I continue to employ you. You do nothing but depress me."
The steward appeared and Prudence ordered two Pernods. "Make them large, very large, with lots of ice. Oh, and bring a jug of water while you're at it. My secretary can't take it neat."
The young, good-looking steward flashed a brilliant smile, bowed and retreated.
"Fucking gigolo," Prudence muttered gloomily.
Jean took off her glasses, fell back into her chair, and shook with laughter. Prudence's scowl slowly disappeared from her face, and by the time the steward returned, carrying the tray of drinks, both women were lying back helpless with laughter. He retreated after laying the tray on the table, a puzzled expression on his face.
"That Prudence Chancellor and her secretary are a couple of nut-cases," he confided to the head steward when he got back to the first-class bar where he worked. The head steward, an old man with gray hair and very wise eyes, looked quizzically at the young barman.
"I remember Prudence Chancellor before she was so famous as she is now. I saw her give a performance in New York almost thirty years ago. She was beautiful then."
The old man sighed reminiscently, then continued. "But now she's at the top of her profession, and she's reputed to be worth quite a few millions. She's got a private yacht, a mansion on Long Island, villas in Spain and France, and the sort of bank account tucked away somewhere-probably in Switzerland-that would make your eyeballs swivel. If that's being a nut-case, then all I can say is that I wish I were one."
"She looks like a scarecrow to me," the young man replied spitefully, before walking away to pick up some glasses.
The head steward smiled to himself. "So Miss Prudence Chancellor hadn't fallen for the Don Juan of the ship's first-class bar. Poor lad! He specialized in rich old ladies. Pity he hadn't got more brains, really, to match his good looks. One without the other was likely to be more of a handicap than a help. The head steward continued to muse as he made his way toward the dining room. Now, if he had had those sorts of looks when he was young-While Prudence and her secretary drank their Pernods, in the first-class comfort of the liner, Loretta was unpacking some of her clothes in her second-class cabin, as were the rest of the company. Already the tearful face of Nancy, standing forlornly on the quayside as the ship left New York harbor, was fading from her memory. She was feeling excited and intensely alive.
This ship, plowing its way through the ocean waves, was taking her to Europe. Her mind was filled with romantic thoughts of
Paris, Rome, Athens, and of course, London, which was to be their first stopping place. Athens, in particular, caught Loretta's girlish imagination. It was, after all, the place where civilization was born. She could visualize herself standing on the Acropolis steps by moonlight.
Carefully she unfolded a dress which she had made herself. It was made of pure white shot silk, and she had copied the design from a book she had bought on Ancient Greece. It was a short, tunic-style dress, which went over one shoulder, leaving the other shoulder bare in the tradition of classical Greece. Dare she wear it, this first night on board ship? She decided she did dare, and started to dress carefully.
Her appearance in the snip's dining room caused quite a sensation. The white silk of the Greek tunic dress revealed more than just the curves of her young, lithe body. Her long black hair hung loosely on her shoulders, brushed until it gleamed under the lights. On her feet she wore gold sandals, the thongs of which wound halfway up her calves. Her well-shaped legs were bare. A gold chain belt encircled her slim waist, and the material of the dress, which pulled tightly over one shoulder, outlined her breasts in exciting detail. She wore no jewelry, and the appealing nakedness of her arms didn't need such things as bracelets.
Tony Salvadore, Miss Chancellor's number one choreographer, raised an admiring eyebrow. Prudence had told him that she had taken on another girl for this tour, but he hadn't been in New York when Prudence had auditioned the girl. He began to understand why Prudence had been so keen on putting Miss Loretta Larson on the payroll. He had vaguely noticed her on the quayside before she boarded the ship, but he had been too busy checking on the crates of costumes and theatrical props which they needed for this trip to get more than a quick impression of the girl. He decided that he must put that to right immediately. He stood up and waved to Loretta, who was uncertain which table she was expected to join.
"You must be the new girl," he said, as Loretta approached the table. "Come and sit with us and tell us all about yourself."
Loretta smiled at the dark, swarthy young man with the mass of brown, curly hair, shaking his outstretched hand before she sat down. She knew who he was. One of the other girls had pointed him out to her as they had boarded the ship.
"Watch him," the girl had warned. "He's a first-class choreographer, but apart from that, he's only got one other interest, and that is sex. He just can't help trying to seduce every pretty girl he meets. I should know!"
Loretta had laughed. "What's wrong? Didn't you like it? she asked.
The other girl had frowned. "Well, to be truthful, I did like it. But when I discovered that he had seduced practically every other girl in the company as well, I felt as though I'd been used."
Loretta thought of this as a large hand enclosed her own. She was encompassed by Tony Salvadore's warm smile. There were two other people at the table, a young Negro dancer, who was introduced as Shane Le Veuve, and a girl. The girl's name was Rhonda Martin, and Loretta quickly learned that she was Tony's assistant. She was a slightly-built, dark-haired vivacious girl, and Loretta immediately took a liking to her. Loretta had quickly discovered that although the Prudence Chancellor Dancers were considered an American company, as Prudence Chancellor herself originated from New York, the dancers themselves, in fact, came from all parts of the world.
She now gathered that Rhonda was English, and Shane Le Veuve had been born in Paris. As for Tony himself, it appeared that his background was Italian, although just where he had been born he didn't say. Eagerly, Loretta asked questions, most of them causing the three much-traveled people sitting at the table some amusement. In spite of the warning, Loretta found herself fascinated by his conversation. She listened in awe to the places he had visited, and the people he had met.
After dinner, they all retired to the bar, where they had brandy and coffee. Loretta was feeling relaxed and happy, and when Tony suggested they promenade the deck, she accepted willingly.
"Another chick being led to the slaughter," Rhonda remarked to Shane, as Loretta and Tony walked out of the bar, arm-in-arm.
"The American miss seems a little naive," Shane replied thoughtfully. "Too naive for a nineteen-year-old."
Rhonda, who happened to be twenty-five, bristled slightly. "Nineteen isn't exactly old," she snapped.
Shane grinned and, reaching out with his hand, stroked Rhonda's arm, his chocolate colored skin making an interesting contrast with the whiteness of Rhonda's skin. Rhonda looked at Shane's slender fingers as they closed over her arm, and shivered. The trouble was that Shane attracted her enormously, but up to this moment, he had never touched her. But she had watched him, particularly during rehearsals, when Tony had put the young Negro through his paces. She had watched his slim-hipped, wiry figure, admiring the power in his compact, muscled body. And she had been fascinated by the color of his skin. It reminded her of creamy smooth chocolate, and she had often wanted to feel the velvety texture. But Shane didn't leave his hand on her arm, and Rhonda gave a little sigh as he took it away.
"Why do women always get snappy when age is discussed? he complained in a teasing voice, rolling the pupils of his eyes upwards.
"I wasn't getting snappy," Rhonda told him, then with a smile she relaxed. "No, you're right. I guess talking about Loretta made me realize that I'm not nineteen any longer. I was about that age when I lost my innocence, my dreams, and my illusions. I was nineteen when I first met Tony Salvadore, in fact."
"You can thank your lucky stars you dumped all that overboard at such' an early age. Some people stagger around with that load on their backs for years," Shane said.
"You sound like a confirmed cynic."
"I prefer to think of myself as just practical," Shane told her. "Born in the slums of Paris, illegitimate and unwanted, made it necessary for me to be practical from a very early age."
Rhonda rose to her feet, looking down into
Shane's handsome face. Playfully, she ran her fingers through his thick, curly, black hair. "You seem to have come out of it pretty well. Good night, Shane. I'm going to retire. Tony is calling a rehearsal first thing in the morning-always provided the sea stays calm."
"Rehearsal for what? Shane demanded.
"Well, perhaps not a rehearsal more than a pep talk. There will be a message with your morning coffee asking you to report to the boat deck. It's there that Tony intends to tell us all the importance of keeping fit on this voyage. And he will probably put you through a few exercises."
Shane groaned. "I thought this ship ride was going to be a complete rest."
"Brother, Tony Salvadore doesn't know what the word means," Rhonda told him.
Shane watched Rhonda's figure as she left the bar lounge. He had sensed for a long time that Rhonda was interested in him, but he had made no effort to encourage her. She was too close to Tony Salvadore, who in turn had the ear of Prudence Chancellor. He deemed it wise not to get involved in that quarter. He liked dancing for the Chancellor Company, and he'd been getting quite a few individual notices in the press reviews recently. It would be stupid to risk complications where his career was concerned. There were quite enough complications as it was, without deliberately adding to them.
However, in the case of the beautiful Miss Larson--Shane got to his feet and started to leave the bar, calling goodnight to several members of the company who had just surged into the bar chattering like magpies.
"You're not going to bed already, are you?" one of the girls called out.
"I've just heard that we're going to be called for a pep-talk and work-out first thing in the morning. A Tony Salvadore special," he told the group of people. He left amid their groans of dismay. Smiling to himself, Shane made a quick tour of all the decks available to second-class passengers. Although he looked carefully he saw no sign of Loretta and Tony. He went below decks to where the cabins were situated. He knew Tony's cabin-in fact, it wasn't too far from his own. He knocked loudly on the cabin door with his clenched fist and waited. He didn't have to wait long before the door opened to reveal Tony in a dressing gown, a look of annoyance on his face.
"What is it, Shane?" he asked.
"I just wanted to make sure you're calling us out for a kind of rehearsal tomorrow morning. Rhonda let it slip that it was likely."
"Yes, that's right. The o'clock sharp. Once I get organized, I'll arrange to have a notice board put up in the main bar. But just for tomorrow, the stewards will be informing everyone when they serve early morning coffee, or whatever it is people drink first thing in the morning. Is that all you wanted to know?"
For a moment, Shane was startled, until he realized there was no ulterior motive in Tony's last question. "Oh yes, sure. Goodnight, Tony," he said.
Thoughtfully, Shane strolled along the narrow corridor towards Cabin Number 221. He had already checked with the purser's office on what number cabin Miss Loretta Larson occupied. He had managed to glance into Tony's cabin over his shoulder, and as far as he could see, it was empty. Which suggested that the lovely Loretta had managed to evade being alone with Tony on their first encounter. Not that Shane thought that Loretta stood much of a chance of holding out for long if Tony was really interested. During the year he had been with the company, he had seen more girls pass through Tony's hands than he could remember. They all succumbed in the end. Firstly because Tony Salvadore was an undeniably attractive man, and secondly, because he was very determined. There was also a third factor to be taken into consideration. He had a big say in the affairs of the Chancellor company, and most girls deemed it unwise to thwart the choreographer. As Shane knocked on Loretta's door, he wondered if she had thought of this.
Loretta was sitting on her bunk, having just taken off her sandals, when she heard the knock on the door. She' thought it was Tony, who had tried his best to get her to go into his cabin for a nightcap. However, being forwarned, meant being forearmed, Loretta had thought to herself. She had refused politely, but firmly. She was surprised, therefore, when she opened the door, and Shane was standing outside, a smile on his face which revealed the whiteness of his teeth against his dusky skin.
"Hello. Thought I'd drop by and let you know that Rhonda has just told me we're being called out for some kind of rehearsal tomorrow morning. Seems we're all due. for some kind of pep talk from our resident choreographer, and a few limbering up exercises," Shane said in a casually friendly voice. Without waiting to be asked, he then walked into the small cabin.
"Come in," Loretta said, closing the door behind Mm.
Shane, however, ignored the slight sarcasm in Loretta's voice. At least he'd got into the cabin, which was more than Tony had managed to do by the looks of things.
Loretta watched the young black man drape his muscular length on her bunk, and inwardly sighed. It had been difficult enough getting away from Tony, and now she was landed with Shane. She wondered if the 'Chancellor Company always behaved like this, or was it just fact that they were on board ship and they had more time at their disposal? She had been warned about Tony, but no one had warned her about Shane. She should have stopped him from entering the cabin, but it was too late now.
She saw the negro searching in his pockets and eventually he produced a packet of cigarettes, which he held out to her. Slowly she walked across to him, and took one, sitting down on the bunk while she accepted a light. That was a tactical mistake, and one which a girl with more experience than Loretta wouldn't have made. Instead of giving her a light, Shane suddenly pulled her backwards onto the bunk, and rolling on top of her, kissed her good and hard.
Loretta, taken completely by surprise, the breath knocked out of her body, lay sprawled half on and half off the bunk. The Grecian tunic dress rode to the very tops of her thighs, and she gave a strangled gasp, trying to push Shane away from her, as one of his hands went straight under the dress, and closed firmly and boldly over the vee of her pubis, hidden from view only by white silk pants.
Loretta was outraged. If she could have freed her mouth, from Shane's determined lips, she would have screamed blue murder. If she could have struggled free from his tight grip, she would have rampaged out of the cabin shouting rape at the top of her voice. If she could only have reached the bell push set in the wall above her bed and summoned a steward. But she could do none of these things, no matter how hard she struggled. It was rape. Shane had gone nuts. She was being ravaged and raped on her first night out at sea. She would complain to Miss Chancellor. She would have Shane thrown out of the company. She would charge him in court with rape. He'd got no right-
Shane continued to hold onto the struggling girl. He was taking a risk, he knew. But he wasn't completely nuts, as Loretta thought. He'd met young girls like Loretta before, and Shane thought he knew exactly how to deal with them. Loretta attracted him strongly, but after listening to her conversation during dinner, he'd recognized the naivete of some of her views. She was, in fact, still wet behind the ears. One could spend the whole voyage dancing attendance on a girl like this, and get nowhere. But Shane was convinced of one thing. Loretta was a highly sexed teenager. All he had to do was-
Loretta gave another strangled gasp, then she suddenly stopped struggling and froze. Shane's hand had gone underneath the silk of her scants, and his sensitive lingers were caressing the area of her sex. She tried to squeeze her legs together, in an effort to restrict his movements. But she found that she couldn't move. She felt completely and utterly paralyzed with shock. And there was something else. No matter how she tried to fight it, the most delicious sensations were trickling up and down her spine. Her limbs felt heavy, drugged by waves of sensuous pleasure. Making a tremendous effort she again tried to push Shane away from her. But her attempts to escape were doomed to failure. She fell backwards again as two of Shane's fingers edged their way between the silken folds of her cunt lips and gently touched her already blossoming clitoris.
Shane, bending over the prostrate Loretta, felt his large cock throb and beat inside the tightness of his trousers. He would have liked to have dragged it free then and there, stuffing it into Loretta's delectable, softly moist hole and fucking the cunt off her. But that wasn't part of his plan-at least not right away. He knew that he had to work Loretta up to the point where she was begging to be fucked.
Once he'd got her in that state, he would oblige, But afterwards, he wouldn't let her forget that it was she who wanted it even more than him. Once he had got that into Loretta's mind, there would be no telling of tales. No accusations. He'd done it before with young girls, so he knew what he was talking about. If only once you could get your hand into the little hot twat of a chit of a girl like Loretta, they were yours for the asking. In fact, he had proved on proved on numerous occasions, that they always ended up by asking for it.
He had discovered long ago that it was a lot of nonsense to think that girls were less willing to have sex than boys. It was just that even now, in the nineteen-seventies, many of them were still indoctrinated by the old-fashioned ideas of girlish modesty. In Loretta's case, Shane has discerned, that she was a romantic. The Greek costume, her glamorous conceptions of European capitals-it all pointed to the heart of a romantic. Well, he hadn't got the sort of mentality for long starlit nights, looking out to sea over the ship's rail. He did not have enough patience for champagne. All he wanted was a good fuck, and he was convinced that Loretta would be just that, if he played his cards right.
As soon as one of his fingers touched Loretta's clitoris, it erected into a hard little bud, shining with a sudden sharp outflow of girlish cunt juice, which also lubricated Shane's fingers. With a groan of anguished despair, Loretta knew she was lost. The tickling sensations of pleasure in all her limbs were being replaced by the flames of urgent desire. Her legs fell wide apart, and her mouth softened against Shane's searching lips. More juice escaped from her cunt, staining the white silk of her pants, and filling the air in the small, stuffy cabin with the pungent smell of her sex. It was unmistakable, and it nearly drove Shane crazy. But still he kept himself in control. He was going to work on the helpless Loretta until she was screaming for his hard meat to screw into her lava-flowing wound.
Loretta's mouth opened against the demanding hardness of Shane's thick, but well-shaped lips.
His tongue went inside her mouth and with a sigh of complete abandon, she sucked it into her throat. All the while, she could feel his busy fingers inside her wringing wet sex orifice, rubbing against her stiffly protruding clitty. And at each passing second, she was getting more and more worked up, releasing at each tick of the clock yet more of her sap, dragged from her womb by the intolerable excitement spreading through her body.
She started to shiver uncontrollably, her legs rising and falling spasmodically as Shane relentlessly frigged her twat with thoroughness and efficiency. He had got the whole of his hand up into her crotch now, and while two of his digits were masturbating her sensitive clitty, he had cleverly inserted another long finger of the same hand between the hotly moist crease of her ass, and was rubDing insistently against the soft, yielding rim of her anus. She was rapidly reaching the point where she didn't care what he did so long as he didn't stop. All thoughts of shouting for help had fled from her mind. In fact, she had been so swept up in the flood of desire, that if anyone had interrupted them at that moment, she would probably never have forgiven them. Shane had won his point. When he started, Loretta would have gladly accused him of being a rapist. If he stopped now, she would probably have accused him of worse things.
But he had to stop, if only to free his aching cock from the confines of his trousers. Pulling his fingers out of the clinging wetness of Loretta's vagina, he got off the bunk and rapidly undressed. The cabin was dimly lit, but Loretta, lying inert and gasping on her back, raised her head in time to see what Shane was doing. It seemed incredible that only a short while ago, she had been wondering how to get rid of him. Now her eyes devoured his compact, muscled body with her eyes, watching lustfully as his long dark-skinned cock swung stiffly into view. Her legs were still wide open, and her aroused pussy was dribbling love juice down into the divide of her ass. Shane now stood facing her, his prick throbbing powerfully upright against his flat, muscled belly.
"Get undressed, Loretta," he commanded, "unless you want me to take you as you are."
For a second, Loretta didn't move, but lay staring at Shane like a rabbit hypnotized by a snake. But as he took a step, his pulsing cock came up to her mouth.
"Feel it. Feel it with your mouth. Taste it," he said, as he forcibly shoved it in.
Loretta moaned, opening her mouth wider, sucking yet harder on the pungent-tasting rod fucking in and out of her mouth. She had forgotten all her promises to Nancy. Poor Nancy standing on the dock, tears in her eyes, pleading with her to take care of herself, to come back. She had forgotten everything except the insatiable itch of desire between her legs, and the excitement generated in her loins by the beautiful, naked black man standing in front of her.
He was beautiful, and Loretta openly admitted it to herself. His skin was like dark brown velvet beneath her hands, as slowly she slid her palms overthe muscles of his body. She then slipped them down to his balls, gently squeezing the wrinkled pouch. All this time, she was sucking hard on Shane's fuck-stick, making it throb and jerk upwards into the roof of her mouth. Her titties, still being squeezed and rolled in Shane's strong hands, felt as though they were on fire.
With another groan, Loretta took her mouth away from Shane's long shaft. It jerked upright as soon as it was released from between her lips, glistening in the dim light with her saliva. Falling back onto the bed, her jaw aching from the extensive gobbling she had given Shane's meat, Loretta arranged herself so that she was lying full-length on her back, legs wide open, inviting the stud to fuck her. Getting astride her recumbent body, he sat firmly on her belly with his back to her face. With both his hands, he started to again titillate her already unbearably excited quim.. She could feel his fingers sliding in and out of her hot twat, preparing her for his mammoth fuck pole, the head of which was beginning to ooze pre-come.
"Now, Shane, Now, please." Loretta pleaded for his fuck-stick, feeling the urges of her stiffening clit and aching box.
At this point, Shane was only too happy to oblige. He plunged himself on one, slow, easy motion, straight up Loretta's come-hole, forcing the walls apart with his rod.
In and out his flagstaff plunged. Again and again, he brought Loretta to mighty orgasms. They moaned and rolled together. When it was over, they stared gratefully at each other, the remnants of their lust still glazing their eyes.
Tomorrow was another day.
CHAPTER THREE
The savage beat of tom-toms filled the air of the Saville Theater in London, growing in volume at every passing second. The audience sat still, hypnotized as the Prudence Chancellor Company came to an end of the first half of their program.
On the stage, the half-naked drummers sat cross-legged in a semi-circle, bathed in a dull red glow from the powerful theater arc-lamps.
On a raised altar in the center of the stage, Loretta lay sprawled, her naked arms and legs hanging over the sides of the altar, her long black hair streaming downwards. She looked almost naked, as indeed she was, a mere strip of silk stretching from between her thighs and up over one breast, her other breast riding free. Between the seated drummers and the altar, dancers whirled in a frenzy of flying limbs and swinging hips. They were all naked to the waist, wearing only skin-tight tiger skin pants. The naked breasts of the girls swung from side to side as they danced, urged to greater efforts by the increasingly fast rhythms of the torn-torn players.
At the back of the altar, a long flight of white stone steps stretched upwards and suddenly a figure, dressed in a flowing scarlet cloak, came rolling down them, bouncing from each step with remarkable dexterity. Rolling onto the stage, the figure leaped to its feet to reveal Prudence Chancellor herself, eyes staring, gleaming dagger in hand. The dancers parted as she advanced on Loretta, and as the drummers reached a frenzied pitch of sound, she plunged the blade into Loretta's half-naked body.
With a startling suddenness, the drummers stopped playing, the dancers fell to the floor, and the curtain came down. After a few seconds, the audience started to clap, and
Prudence leaned an elbow on Loretta's belly as she struggled into a sitting position.
"That will give them something to think about," she said happily. "Bet it's the first time they've seen so many naked tits on stage at any one time."
Tony Salvadore, who had come onto the stage from the wings, heard what Prudence had said. "I only hope we get away with it, that's all. This may be swinging London, but they've still got a few principles left, I believe."
"I've been told that Swinging London likes swinging tits," Prudence Chancellor told her choreographer. "And of course we'll get away with it. All censorship has been lifted on British theaters."
"Yes, I know, but the authorities have still got power to shut a show down if they consider that it goes too far," Tony replied.
"Yes, I know. We've been through all that before. But my show is art, not striptease, and that's what makes all the difference."
Loretta, sitting up, resting on her hands, which gripped the sides of the altar behind her back, moved restlessly. Miss Chancellor still had her elbow in her groin, and she was feeling uncomfortable. Prudence, who had been rather enjoying the feel of her elbow resting on the bulge of Loretta's scantily clad mons .eneris, now moved her arm away and clapped her hands.
"Okay, off-stage everyone. Second half begins in twenty minutes."
Loretta swung herself off the altar, and left the stage as stage hands were busily dismantling the steps down which Prudence had rolled so dramatically. They were in fact, made of soft rubber, and there was also a deep foam mattress at the foot of the steps where Miss Chancellor actually made her last fall before springing to her feet. But from out front the deception was unnoticeable, particularly in the dull red glow of the arc-lights which were used for that particular scene. But even so, Loretta thought to herself, the descent was quite something for a woman of Miss Chancellor's age.
Not that Loretta knew what Miss Chancellor's age really was, but she realized that she must be getting on. Loretta remembered her mother talking about her in the days when she used to go to the theater.
She arrived at the dressing rooms and fought her way inside. Everyone was busily changing for the opening number of the second half of the program, and she had trouble in finding the dresser. Her only appearance in the first half of the program had been when she had lain on the sacrificial altar. In the second half, however, she had some dancing to do, and she was feeling very excited. This was the first night of the show, and she was in London taking part in it all. Her dreams were really coming true.
As she was struggling into the tight scarlet matador pants, and white chiffon blouse, required for the beginning number called, "Cuban Interlude," Joni Swanson, one of the lead dancers, strolled over to her side. She was a very curvaceous blonde, and Loretta envied her complete self-assurance and poise. Joni was American like herself, and she'd been in the Chancellor Company for some time.
"Hello, kid. Feeling nervous?" she drawled, helping her to cope with one of the shoulder straps attached to the matador pants.
"A bit," Loretta panted, struggling with the other strap. "I didn't have to do anything in the first half except lie down. But I guess I'll really have to be on my toes for the rest of the show."'
Joni slipped the other strap over Loretta's shoulder, her hand seeming to brush accidentally against one of Loretta's full breasts as she did so. She then came up close behind Loretta, her hands going around her waist as she straightened the tightly fitting elasticized pants. Loretta could feel the big breasts of the buxom Joni pressing into her back, and stiffened slightly.
"There, that's better," Joni commented, stepping back to admire her handiwork.
"Thanks, Joni. I guess I'm still not very good at quick changes."
"You'll improve, you'll improve," Joni drawled. "Me and some of the kids are having a rave-up after the show to celebrate the first night. What about joining us?"
Loretta flushed. Joni, in her position as lead dancer, was much higher up the theatrical social scale than she was, a new girl on the scene. She felt flattered by the invitation.
"Why, I'd love to," she said.
Joni gave her a friendly pat on the back. "That's fine, kid. I've got a friend in London who's got so much money, it's running out of his ears. He's invited me and my friends to his apartment for drinks and eats. He lives in a real ritzy sort of dump overlooking old River Thames. You'll love it, kid."
Then she strolled away as an announcement came over the intercom, warning everyone that they were due on stage in exactly five minutes. Loretta made her way to the wings, heart beating. She stood with a crowd of other dancers, all dressed in the same costume as herself. She found herself next to Shane. He bent down and gave her ear a lick, and once again Loretta blushed. She remembered the long sea voyage from America, and the many times Shane had knocked on her cabin door, late at night when most of the others had retired. She had always let him in, no matter what time he turned up.
But there was no time to say anything now. The curtains had parted on a completely bare stage, with a backcloth of dazzling white, crisscrossed with modernistic designs in bold black strokes. The orchestra struck up with a bouncy rhythm, and Joni undulated out of the wings alone, hips swaying, arms high in the air, castanets clacking seductively in her hands.
From where she stood, Loretta could see the girl's big breasts straining against the white blouse which she wore, and the perfect outline of her buttocks in the tight matador pants. Joni moved with the grace of a prowling panther, and the precision of someone who knew exactly what she was doing. The music changed rhythm, and Loretta began to count. There was a crash of drums and she was on stage with all the other dancers, whirling around Joni who remained center, twisting and gyrating to the complicated rhythms of a rumba beat.
The sudden flooding of the stage with their colorful costumes, brought a round of applause from the audience, and suddenly Loretta didn't feel nervous any more. She began to really dance, completely losing herself in the complicated, changing rhythms. She forgot the audience, she forgot everything.
Martin King, forty years old, was what one would call a smooth character. He had short, black hair, brushed well back, a high forehead, piercing gray eyes, and thin lips which turned up at the corners. He had a slim, athletic build, and the self-assurance which often goes with being very rich.
Martin had never done a stroke of work in his life, having inherited a vast fortune from his father, who died of a heart attack when Martin was very young, from his exertions in making the family fortune. He had met Joni in New York two years ago, and they had remained friends ever since. He had been interested in Joni until he discovered she was a lesbian, but they had still remained-friends. No matter in what part of the world Joni found herself, she was never surprised when Martin turned up. He traveled constantly, and seemed to have many homes in many countries. She wasn't sure of his nationality, and although he spoke with a perfect English accent, she sometimes thought it was a bit too perfect. She had asked him once where he was born, but he had shrugged off the question, making it quite clear that his past was his own affair.
Joni, therefore, wasn't surprised when Martin turned up at her London hotel only hours after she and the rest of the company had checked in. Kissing her lightly on the cheek he had sat himself down, demanding a resume of her life since they last met in Vienna. When she had finished telling him about herself, Joni demanded to know what he had been doing. But as always, he just shrugged.
"Traveling most of the time," he said vaguely, and Joni knew it was useless to question him further. Martin seemed to have a curious reluctance to tell anyone what he had been doing, or exactly where he was staying.
"How's your love life?" he asked suddenly.
It was Joni's turn to shrug. "Non-existent. I finished with that girl in New York. Found out she was nothing but a two-timing stupid bitch with an itch between her legs."
"What happened? Did you lose her to a man?" Martin asked, amusement in his voice.
"No, at least I've never had to suffer that insult. She made off for Vegas with a divorced woman, and presumably they are both living happily on the divorcee's alimony. Anyway, I don't care. I've got over it." '
"You certainly get through them at a rapid rate. I've only known you two years, but every time we meet, you are either finishing an affair, or just starting one," Martin smiled.
"Well, it's not my fault," Joni had said in an aggrieved voice, annoyed that Martin should find her love life amusing. "It just seems that I don't go for nice, quiet, sensible girls. I always go for the hot-headed, hot-blooded bitches, who don't know whether they're coming or going."
Martin had to laugh out loud. "Joni, you're priceless. You are as jaded as I am, but you don't see it. If you weren't, you'd find the nice, quiet ones perfectly satisfactory. But you don't so you go for the flamboyant, with inevitable results."
Joni had relaxed, no longer annoyed with Martin. "Yes, I know. You're quite right of course. But what can a girl do? I can't just wipe out my past, can I? Anyway, this conversation is getting a damn sight too serious. What about a drink? I filled my case with whiskey on board ship, and fortunately customs didn't pick on me for a check. I put on such a fucking innocent expression as I went through controls, that I nearly made myself sick."
Later, when they were sipping their whiskey, Martin had suggested that she bring some friends over to his penthouse in Dolphin Square, overlooking the Thames. Joni had visited the place on her previous trip to London, and she remembered the vast rooms overlooking the river.
"Don't tell me you've kept that place going all this time?" she had remarked.
Martin nodded. "Comes in useful when I'm in London.
Then he stood up. "I'll be at the show tonight, then I'll make my way back to Dolphin Square and await your arrival. I'm not inviting anyone, so you can bring as many as you like. Anybody really interesting in the company at the moment?"
Joni considered. "Well, we did get a new addition to the company just before we left New York. Chosen by La Chancellor herself no less. She's nineteen, and got what it takes all right. I had my eye on her at first until I heard through the grapevine that she was getting screwed by one of the boys. But she may interest you. Do you want me to invite her?"
"Please do. A nineteen-year-old dancer who likes being screwed sounds interesting," Martin had replied smoothly.
Joni had laughed. "You're incorrigible, Martin. In actual fact little Miss Loretta Larson isn't really like that at all. She's still a bit wet behind the ears, and is thrilled to her very marrow at being in London. She's got a list of museums as long as my arm, which she intends to visit as soon as she's able. I think Shane, the guy she's fucked so much on the way over, caught her on the hop. I'm told he's one of the fastest draws in the business. Anyway, there's one thing for sure, and that is she's no virgin."
"Good. Virgins are such a bore," Martin replied. "See you later, Joni. Look forward to seeing you on stage."
And that had been that.
An hour or so after the curtain fell on the first night's show, Joni ushered fifteen of her colleagues into the Dolphin Square penthouse. She wondered if she had been really wise inviting Loretta along. If Martin did take a passing imagine to her, the girl wouldn't stand a chance. He was the sort of character who would talk a girl into flying with him to a remote South Sea island, and then leave her there when he was fed up.
Although Martin would never tell her what he was up to, she had a great many friends in a great many places, and stories got around. Still, she wasn't Loretta's keeper. The girl was old enough to look after herself.
Loretta thought the penthouse and Martin were quite fascinating. For one thing, she had never been in such a strangely decorated apartment. The rooms were enormous, the whole of one side being made of plate glass which led out onto a balcony. The balcony overlooked a road, and beyond that, the Thames glinted in the moonlight.
The room where they were all gathered contained hardly any furniture. It was thickly carpeted, but apart from a long low table, set against one of the walls, and loaded with food and drink, the only other outstanding object was a life-size rocking horse which stood in one corner of the room. There were no chairs, only huge, vividly colored cushions flung carelessly about the floor. The walls were stark white, broken by heavy scarlet drapes which hung at intervals from the ceiling to the floor. The whole place was more like a stage set than a place to live in. Music came from hidden speakers.
She sidled up to Joni, while they all helped themselves to food and drink. "Your friend must be very wealthy indeed," she whispered.
Joni grinned at her, pushing a wisp of blonde hair back into place. "You're dead right, honey. Martin may have many problems but none of them are connected with money."
Joni and her party hadn't arrived at Martin's penthouse until nearly midnight. By two o'clock in the morning, the drinks were still flowing, and they were all getting quietly sloshed. At least Joni knew that she was drinking too much, but didn't seem to be. able to stop. Like the rest of the company, the first night had been an ordeal for Joni. It always was, no matter how many first nights a performer had experienced.
Joni, reclining on two cushions, with a glass full of champagne, only hoped that what they said about the stuff was true. It never left one with a serious hangover. She wasn't so sure. She had never got drunk on champagne before. Martin came over and sat down beside her.
"I like your little Loretta," he confided. "In fact, I like her very much. Is the guy she fucked on the boat, that one over there?" He pointed to Shane.
Joni nodded. She had invited Shane because he was good company, and she got on well with the young black guy. He was an excellent dancer, and on the occasions she had to rely on him on a stage, he had never made a false move.
Martin moved a bit closer. "Joni, would you like a solid gold chain bracelet?"
Joni looked at Martin in surprise, wondering for a moment, if he was drunk. But she could see at a glance that he wasn't. He'd never offered her presents before, although he was always very generous in his hospitality. Neither had she ever asked him for anything, even though she knew he was probably one of the richest men she had ever met. Then it suddenly occurred to her, that if Martin was dangling a carrot in front of her, then it must be for a very good reason.
"And what do I have to do for the solid gold chain bracelet?" she asked.
Martin laughed. "Persuade Loretta and the black boy to remain after the others have gone. We might have fun, just us four. I've never seen a lesbian in action, Joni, and frankly, I'm curious."
"Are you crazy?" Joni gasped. "I've got my position to think of. It wouldn't do. You'll have to count me out of that one."'
"Don't be a prude, Joni. I know you're not one, really. To begin with, you don't think anyone in the company doesn't know you're a lesbian, do you? Apart from Loretta, and she's new to the scene. No one who takes part in an orgy ever talks. Not if they're all in the same boat. I'm sure that when tomorrow arrives, and Loretta and the black guy have sobered up, they'll try and pretend the whole thing never happened.
Joni finished off her champagne and immediately Martin rose and returned with a fresh bottle. He undid the cork expertly, and filled her glass with the fizzing stuff without spilling any. She took another drink, and thought over what Martin had said. He was right of course. Everyone in the company knew she was a lesbian. Just as everyone in the company knew that Prudence Chancellor was a lesbian. It was also true that she would like to seduce Loretta. And tomorrow? Well, if she succeeded, she was sure Martin was right. Neither Loretta nor Shane would ever breathe a word of it. How could they, without implicating themselves? And who would care anyway? If ever it did get out. it would only be regarded as a joke.
"Okay, Martin, I'll try. Are you sure you've got that solid gold chain bracelet ready?"
"It's in my bedroom, and it'll even make Prudence Chancellor green with envy, I promise you."
Joni, who knew like everyone else, Prudence Chancellor's obsession with gold bracelets, laughed. "If ever she hears how I got it. she will be even more envious," she told Martin.
Loretta, unaware that she was the subject of discussion between Joni and Martin, danced happily around the big room with Shane. She had chosen to wear her Greek tunic dress again, complete with gold sandals. Shane was wearing black, very tight-fitting trousers, and a scarlet silk shirt. They danced well together, and Martin, who. was a dedicated voyeur, found the sight of the stud's arm circling Loretta's slim waist very exciting. The others were either sitting or drinking, or dancing. Martin watched Joni mingling with the guests, and he knew that she was passing the word around that it was about time they all returned to their hotel. Then he saw her approaching Loretta and the black stud. He saw the guy smile, and Loretta nod her head happily. Martin took a drink of champagne. Joni had obviously won her first round, and she was one step nearer to receiving her gold bracelet.
It was three-thirty, and the last of the guests were just departing, leaving Joni, Shane and Loretta alone.
They all sat cross-legged, drinking champagne. Loretta was talking a lot, telling Martin how thrilled she was to be in London. As she talked, her black eyes sparkled with life and mischief. In fact, Loretta was feeling marvelous. The excitement of the opening night at the Saville Theater, the fact that she was in London, not to mention the champagne she had drunk, all combined to make her wish that tonight would never end.
Shane, on the other hand, was a little wary. He had a feeling that Joni and her friend Martin were up to something. He hadn't drunk so much champagne that he didn't notice the expert way in which Joni had got rid of the other guests. He looked into Joni's baby-blue eyes, as she sat cross-legged, her dark blue mini skirt riding well up her thighs so that she was giving anyone who cared to, a good eyeful of her white panties. But he could read nothing in Joni's eyes. He could see Joni was sitting very close to the exuberant Loretta, and that her arm had gone around the girl's waist.
This didn't surprise him. He knew as well as anyone else Joni's preference in that direction. He looked at Martin, also sitting cross-legged, champagne glass in hand, apparently absorbed in what Loretta was saying. Shane was nobody's fool, and put two and two together.
Joni was about to put on a display for her friend Martin, -nd no doubt he was being kept around to supply local color. Shane turned the idea in his mind, and decided if that was their little game, he didn't object. He was also curious to see a lesbian in action.
It was then that Martin deliberately winked at Shane, and the black man returned the wink. Loretta who had her face buried in her champagne glass at the time, didn't see it. Joni, however, saw it and was relieved. All they now needed was to get Loretta into the spirit of the thing.
"Why don't you stretch your legs out and lie back on these cushions, Loretta?" she suggested.
Without hesitation, Loretta did as Joni suggested. Stretching out her legs, she reclined on the large padded cushion. She felt marvelously relaxed, and when Joni stretched out beside her, she snuggled against the dancer, still unaware of Joni's real intentions. The music was playing softly in the background, and the diffused pink lights threw a weird glow over the whole scene. By turning her eyes upward, she could see the head of the rocking horse staring down at her with black eyes. It was like something in a dream. She could hear Martin and Shane talking together in low voices, and suddenly she felt Joni's mouth against her ear.
"Loretta, shall we put on a show for Mart in and Shane?"
Loretta raised herself and turned her head slightly. She could see the tops of the woman's big breasts straining against the thin material of her blouse, and she opened her eyes wide in shocked surprise.
"Joni, what do you mean?" she whispered.
For answer, Joni's hand touched Loretta's outstretched naked leg, running smoothly along the inside of her thigh. Loretta found herself paralyzed. She didn't know that Joni was like that, and what would Martin and Shane think? She grabbed hold of Joni's wrist, but the woman was strong and Loretta found she could not remove the hand which was caressing the insides of her legs. What happened next, Loretta could only put down to the fact that she had drunk too much champagne. She could have struggled to her feet somehow, and got out of the apartment, but instead, she fell back onto the cushions, giggling.
The initial surprise and shock at Joni's actions had worn off, and she could see by the look on the faces of Martin and Shane that they didn't mind a bit what was happening. Quite to the contrary, the two men were enjoying watching herself and Joni so close together.
The thought went through her mind that all this had been arranged by Joni and the others. They were all taking advantage of her youth and inexperience. Even Shane had insisted that she had a lot to learn. She was beginning to catch on.
When Shane told Loretta that she still had a lot to learn, he had only been speaking the truth. He had found during his conversations with her, that she was still naive. He found that she still retained a lot of idealism, imagining that it only required hard work on her part to become a famous dancer.
"One day, I would like to be as famous as Prudence Chancellor," she had told him. He had gently pointed out that, although Prudence Chancellor had undoubtedly worked hard in her time, all her energies hadn't been entirely devoted to art. He told the wide-eyed Loretta about Prudence's serving a term of imprisonment in Paris for performing in a strip club. "The Paris police closed the show, and arrested the performers and everyone connected with it."
Loretta hadn't believed him, saying that he was inventing the whole story. He hadn't pursued the argument, putting it down to Loretta's "Americanism." ' However, as Loretta now felt Joni's hand slip firmly underneath her white panties, in full view of Martin and Shane, she was resolving that in the future, things were going to be different. She was getting fed up with being taken by surprise.
This was the last time she was going to allow herself to be treated like an idiotic child. In other words, Loretta had removed the rose-colored glasses and tossed them to one side. In the meantime, she decided to make the best of the present situation.
"If they want an orgy, then they can bloody well have one," she thought to herself. With these thoughts in her mind, Loretta propped herself up on one elbow, and grabbed the glass of champagne she had placed on the carpet by the side of her hand. She tossed the whole thing off, and with a sigh fell back on the cushions. Putting an arm around Joni's shoulders, she pressed the woman downwards, making it quite clear where she wanted Joni to put her head. Joni, expecting more resistance from Loretta, was taken by surprise. But she quickly recovered, and getting onto her knees by Loretta's side, flicked the front of the girl's tunic dress up to her waist.
Shane smiled, while Martin leaned forward in excitement. Loretta's white panties were pulled tight into the V of her pubis, and the exciting swell of her cunt was clearly visible. Both men watched, waiting for Joni to strip the deliciously provoking panties off Loretta's legs so they could get a real look at her bush. Shane, of course, had seen it before but that didn't mean that he wasn't getting excited.
Joni was going to edge Loretta's panties down over her thighs when she changed her mind. Bending her head, she commenced to lick the white silk where it covered Loretta's gash. Once she had got it really wet, the silk clung even more firmly to the outlines of Loretta's charms. She prodded with her tongue, forcing the wet silk inside the folds of Loretta's slit. Occasionally she removed her head, making sure that Martin and Shane got a good view of her handiwork. Then she bent to her task once more, forcing more and more of the wet silk into Loretta's gash with her tongue.
Loretta, lying on her back, stared at the head of the rocking horse, and closed her eyes. "No more champagne," she thought to herself, as she saw two heads, instead of one.
Then she forgot all about rocking horses as Joni's tongue continued to probe between her legs. The champagne gave her the impression that she was floating in mid-air. and she kept her eyes focused, enjoying the sensation. She only had a vague idea what Joni was doing to her. but slowly and surely there was a burning tingling feeling coming from the region of her sex. A half sigh, half groan escaped from her lips, as Joni's tongue forced the silk of her panties into her hole, rubbing hard against the stiffness of her clitoris.
The muscles of her stomach contracted, and she arched her spine. The smooth silk being pushed around the velvet depths of her sex hold was unbearably exciting, forcing her to release some of her juices. She started to tremble, digging her heels into the luxurious pile of the carpet. Through the alcohol fumes which filled her mind, Loretta recalled that another woman had done this to her, not long ago. Yes, of course, it had been Nancy. Nancy made love to. her like this, bending down by her side, her soft tongue fanning the same flames of lust, as she was feeling now. Nancy had been the first and only woman who had touched her that way. Now it was Joni:
Again Loretta arched her back, a strangled whimper coming from her throat like a bitch giving birth to puppies. And again she released a thin flow of girlish spunk, soaking into the saliva-drenched silk of her panties. Joni could taste it on her busy tongue, and could smell the heat waves of sexual awakening coming from Loretta's open-lipped twat. She dug her tongue into the spunky hole once more, enjoying the power she wielded to make Loretta shiver, arch her back, and whimper like a child.
Loretta was still thinking about Nancy. In her befuddled mind, she had already replaced Joni with Nancy. In her mind, she was back in Nancy's Greenwich Village apartment once more, on the night before she sailed for Europe. This was Nancy, her best friend, doing this thing to her.
Somehow, she had to repay that kindness. She had to give Nancy as much pleasure as she was receiving herself. Reaching out, she put her hand between the back of Loretta's legs, pushing it well up under the blue mini-skirt, fumbling with Loretta's panties. Gently, her hand closed over the fine bush of pubic hair and squeezed. Only in the state she was in, Loretta had got the present mixed up with the past. She thought she was squeezing Nancy's sex.
Martin leaned forward, the excitement he was feeling at seeing the two girls make love manifesting itself by the hard throb of his sex between his legs. He shifted uncomfortably trying to get his stiff cock into a more comfortable position. Martin was a born voyeur, and he enjoyed watching the sexual play of other people almost as much as he enjoyed indulging in the sexual act himself.
All his life, Martin had possessed the power of money. Once upon a time, he had thought money could buy anything except people. Now, at the age of forty, he had long since shed that illusion. He was quite aware that people had their price, but they could be bought as readily as anything else. What surprised him was that some people priced themselves so low. Joni had been bought for a gold bracelet. She was an attractive woman, and Loretta was the sort of girl to stir any man's imagination. She certainly stirred his. He glanced at the young black man sitting cross-legged by his side. Shane met his glance, and with one accord, they both stood up and began to get undressed.
Joni, now that she had worked Loretta up to the point where she was virtually helpless, was undressing her. Loretta made no resistance. In fact, she helped. As soon as this was done, Loretta inserted her hand up between Joni's legs once more, closing it over the damp warmth of her bush.
Joni gritted her teeth, trying to keep a tight reign on her own desires. But she was finding it hard, and as she unfastened Loretta's bra cups, and the girl's lovely titties bounced into view, she had a wild desire to get out of her own clothes and really make love to Loretta. But she knew that this was Martin's show. He was paying for it, and she would have to keep in the background. So she remained on her knees by Loretta's side, suffering the pangs of aroused desire as the girl's hand rubbed up and down between her legs, causing her cunt to become damp. She had just got Loretta's panties down, now heavily marked at the front with her own saliva and Loretta's juices, when she became aware that both Martin and Shane were coming in on the act.
Both men were completely naked, their rampant sex sticks rearing into the air, one black and one white. Joni noted that although Martin was well-equipped, Shane was even more so. To Joni, who hadn't had a lot of experience with men, much preferring her own sex, Shane's tool looked monstrously large. She pulled Loretta's hands away from under her miniskirt and edged away from the girl's side. Now it was her turn to be the voyeur.
Loretta, lying in a state of blissful alcoholism and sexual excitement, opened her eyes. She saw Shane leaning over her, his dark skin glistening in the subdued lighting of the room. He was quite naked and she could smell him, bringing back memories of the hours they had spent together in her tiny cabin on board ship. She tried to make her eyes focus on Shane's face, but she couldn't quite make it. She had been thinking of Nancy, and now Nancy was gone. Or was it Joni who had been undressing her so seductively. Again Loretta tried to make her brain work properly, but somehow there seemed to be a cushioned wall between herself and reality. She was, she realized helplessly, quite drunk. That last glass of champagne she had tossed off had tipped the scales. And then she saw Martin. He was also quite naked, and a tremor of alarm ran through her.
She wasn't so drunk that she couldn't see Martin's sex jutting up from a bush of black hair between his legs. She opened her mouth to say something but no sound came out. Shane was pulling her to her feet, and she collapsed into his arms, flattening her titties against the dark skin of his chest, her cunt pressing sexily on the black man's rigidly throbbing prick.
What happened next always remained a vague memory in Loretta's mind. She remembered Shane leading her to the life-size rocking horse. It had no saddle or stirrups, and she leaned against the horse's neck as Shane vaulted onto the horse's back. He then reached down and caught her around the waist, pulling her up after him. Strong arms enclosed her legs, helping her upwards, and she realized it was Martin.
She remembered thinking it odd that when Shane got onto the horse, he chose to sit with his back to the horse's head and facing its tail. However, once she had been pulled on board she thought she saw why. She found herself sitting in the correct position, but facing Shane who was grinning all over his face. He pulled her close to him, wedging her legs over his so that she had to put her arms around his neck to stop herself from falling backwards.
Once again her bubblies squashed into the hardness of the young black man's chest, and the base of his erect cock pressed into her slit, while the knob tickled her belly with its hard wetness. She clung to him, and although she was still feeling dizzy, her head was beginning to clear now that she was in an upright position.
Martin still stood by the side of the rocking horse, luxuriating in the bizarre scene of the naked black man and Loretta clinging to each other on the back of the wooden animal. Joni remained on the floor, also watching with curiosity. Her hand slipped underneath her mini-skirt, and she was taking over where
Loretta had left off. She was running her index finger up and down her slit, her eyes watching Loretta's slim body on the back of her horse. She could see the girl's full buttocks resting half on Shane's thighs and the seat of the horse. They looked very tempting, and she wished she could go over to the embracing couple and stroke Loretta's ass cheeks. But she remained where she was, waiting to see what Martin would do after he had finished looking at the erotic tableaux.
Finally she saw him move, and immediately realized his intentions. A faint smile crossed Joni's face, and she wondered if Martin had used the life-sized rocking horse for similar purposes on previous occasions. She had asked him why he had bought the remarkably life-like horse, which although made of wood was covered with a soft hairy hide in brown and white. He had told her, with that cynical smile of his, that it amused him to have it in his apartment as a decoration!
The horse moved on its enormous rockers as Martin clambered up onto its seat, sitting astride the wooden animal immediately behind Loretta. He could see her lovely ass tilting upwards as she leaned forwards against Shane, and quickly he wriggled himself so close to the girl that his erect cock was tickling the crease of her ass.
Gently he eased a hand underneath Loretta's crotch, closing the exciting gash of her cunt in his palm. He could feel the black man's tool throbbing against the back of his hand as he did so, but it only made him even more excited. He could also hear Loretta making those funny whimpering noises again as he thoroughly explored her cunt, ending up by dipping two of his digits into the smooth wetness of her sex-hole. Her gorgeous ass cheeks began to lift up and down, causing the horse to rock gently.
Locating Loretta's clitty, Martin began to play with it, enjoying the oily wetness that oozed onto his fingers as he did so. While he played with Loretta's twat with one hand, he gave his own cock a thorough massage with the other. He wanted it good and stiff and wet, because he knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to stuff it between the white orbs of Loretta's buttocks, screwing his meat into her anus. Then while he was doing that he wanted Shane to screw the girl from the front.
Martin stopped playing with his dick as the erotic thoughts going through his mind almost made him shoot his spunk all over Loretta's ass. And that was the last thing he wanted to do. He was determined to shoot it inside her butt, not outside!
Shane, seeing Martin get onto the horse behind Loretta, knew perfectly well what their host was intending to do. Loretta was to be fucked and buggered at the same time. Well, he didn't mind taking part in that kind of threesome. In face, the idea quite aroused him. He wondered if Loretta was aware of what was about to happen to her, or if she was too drunk to know or care. Either way it didn't make any difference. He felt sure that when Martin got around to pushing his prick up into the girl's ass, he would do it efficiently.
Martin, he felt sure, would have it inside her before she knew what was happening. And while she was still squealing he would launch into her from the front. They would then set the rocking horse in motion, and Loretta would slide backwards and forwards on the two cocks screwing into her from the front and back. Yes, Shane thought to himself, it was quite an exciting idea. He pressed Loretta closer to him, and he wished Martin would take his hand off the girl's pussy so he could push his dick into it. As it was, the back of Martin's hand was rubbing uncomfortably against his balls!
As if Martin had read Shane's thoughts he removed his hand from between Loretta's legs, and began to concentrate on her delightful ass cheeks. He played with the two wobbling balls of flesh, pulling them wide apart before squeezing them together again. He finally slid his hand down the divide, locating Loretta's hot dry little asshole. It was too dry he decided, and removing his hand he spat into it before returning it to Loretta's rear hole.
As his probing finger went inside, Loretta moaned, and she slumped further forward toward Shane. Shane decided that it would be best to take her mind off what Martin was warming up to, so reaching down he wriggled backwards a little so that he was sitting on he base of the horse's neck. Bending his long black spunk-shooter, he positioned the hard knob onto Loretta's gash, wedging it between the lips of her cunt and just inside her hole.
He knew that this always excited Loretta so much, that she could never resist launching herself onto the whole length of his prick. He had found out during the sea voyage from America, that once Loretta got the feel of a cock between her legs there was no holding her. It was just a question of getting it there in the first place!
And of course, Shane was right. Loretta felt the black man's knob slip into the folds of her cunt lips, tickling the entrance to her vagina, already aroused to breaking point by Joni and then Martin. Her arms clinging around Shane's neck she started to edge herself forward, giving little cries as she did so. Inch by inch she propelled herself closer to Shane, swallowing the solid meat of his prick into her desiring cunt. She was really worked up now, no longer caring if she was drunk or sober. Only anxious that Shane's long thick dick screw into her as far as possible. To help both himself and Martin, Shane put his hand around Loretta's ass cheeks, pulling them apart, and helping the girl forward onto his meat at the same time. And while he did this, Martin bent his own prick between Loretta's splayed buttocks, positioning his knob onto the girl's saliva-covered rear entrance.
He gave a powerful push forward with his hips, and speared himself into Loretta's ass at the first attempt. Immediately she gave a squeal of pain, and her arms slipped from around Shane's neck. She might have fallen sideways, completely ruining everything, if Martin hadn't caught her in time. Pushing for all he was worth, he made sure that he had completely penetrated Loretta's anus. Putting his arms around the squealing girl, his hands closing over her tits, he pulled her backwards so that she was resting against him. She was now virtually sitting on his phallus, and Martin shivered with excitement as the tight walls of the girl's anus closed on his cock as she squeezed her buttocks together.
As Loretta went backwards, into Martin's arms, Shane made sure that his penis remained stuck up into her cunt. She was forced to relinquish half of it as she went backwards, but he wriggled his way forwards a little, fucking his way into her until most of his meat was swallowed up again insider her vagina.
Loretta was still crying out, although the pain she had first felt when Martin attacked her from the rear had died away. He was playing with her tits, forcing her buds to erect, sending electric thrills through her whole body. She moved, and immediately she felt the two pricks penetrating her cunt and ass quiver and throb. It excited her, although she knew that she ought to protest at what was being done to her. She moved again, and once more she was acutely aware of the virile shafts poking into her front and rear orifices.
She started to thrust her hips up and down, excited beyond endurance. She was approaching an orgasm, and Loretta knew that nothing could stop it. She had been mercilessly teased beyond endurance, and now she had to come no matter what.
Shane, his cock throbbing wildly as Loretta wriggled her way up and down its length, leaned backwards on the horse's neck, content to let Loretta do all the work. The horse had now started rocking, and as it rocked forward, Loretta speared herself onto the full length of
Shane's pole, and then as they rocked backwards she relinquished some of the black man's cock to spear herself fully onto Martin's tool riding into her ass. Both Martin and Shane were gripping the sides of the horse firmly with their legs as Loretta became wilder, gasping her way to her climax with powerful thrusts of her hips. Shane, his head bent back onto the horse's neck, closed his eyes, his hips moving upwards to meet Loretta full on every time she rocked forwards. She was frantically contracting the muscles inside her cunt, and he felt the tell-tale tightness in his bull shit signifying that he was going to shoot.
His mouth opened, and with a grunting noise he shot a strong squirt of spunk into Loretta's twat. She, in her turn, was wriggling so much in Martin's arms that he was having difficulty in hanging onto her. But as she stiffened, squeezing her buttocks hard together, Martin himself began to shoot a steady stream of semen into her backside, squeezing hard onto the girl's titties as he did so.
Loretta, speared on the two discharging pricks, reached her own climax with a strangled cry. She arched backwards against Martin's chest, aware that his cock was discharging into her ass. She started to come, filling her pussy with juice and covering Shane's black dick which had just erupted a second stream of fatty spunk. As their bodies stilled, the horse slowly stopped rocking, and finally came to a dead stop.
Joni, still on the floor, closed her eyes. She had got two fingers stuck up in her quim, and she had tossed herself off at the sight of Loretta being fucked by the two men on the horse. The fluid trickled out of her gash, soaking into her panties. Unsteadily she got to her feet, watching while Shane and Martin extricated themselves from the half swooning Loretta. She caught the girl as she began to slide off the horse.
There was only one thing to do now, and that was to get Loretta into the bathroom to clean her up, and then to bed. With a bit of luck the two men might leave herself and Loretta alone. There were enough bedrooms in Martin's extensive apartment. She would like to sleep with Loretta. When the girl had sufficiently recovered, perhaps she could continue what she had only started to do earlier in the evening before Shane and Martin had taken over. If Loretta was in a fit state of course, after that she had recently experienced!
CHAPTER FOUR
Four weeks passed, during which time the Prudence Chancellor Company danced to packed houses in London. They then left for Paris, where they were to remain for a further four weeks. After that they were due to appear in Rome for two weeks only, and then return to America. During this time, Prudence was so busy she didn't have time to dictate any more of her memoirs to Jean Staples, her secretary and companion. However, after a week in Paris, when things were running more or less smoothly, Prudence settled herself down one evening after the show, and decided it was about time she put in some more work on her memoirs. It was well past midnight, and the Hotel Etoile, just off the Champs-Elysees, where she and the rest of the company were staying, had more or less settled down for the night. Prudence, however, felt wide awake-she usually did around midnight.
"I'm a night person really," she was often heard to say. "At night I really come alive."
Once, a long time ago, when she had made this statement at a party, someone was heard to murmur "blood vampire." The girl who had made this rash remark had unfortunately been overheard by Prudence's sharp ears. Unfortunately, that is, for the girl, who was a dancer, and also at that time out of a job. She never did get another job in the New York theatre, and eventually packed up and went back to Los Angeles. She never did find out that her name had been black-listed with every theatrical management in New York. Black-listed by Prudence herself, who wielded quite a lot of power in that direction. It wasn't wise to make derogatory remarks about Prudence within her hearing-not if you were working in the theatre, that is. It wasn't even wise to make derogatory remarks about the great Miss Chancellor even outside her hearing. She had a knack of getting to know things, and kept her ear very close to the ground.
On this particular night, Jean Staples, her secretary, wanted nothing more than to go to bed. It had been one hell of a day, and she had been coping with endless problems connected with the company from very early morning when Prudence had lain in bed. But she knew that to protest would bring the roof down, so with a resigned shrug she picked up her notebook, and carefully sharpened pencil.
Prudence lay on her bed, dressed in a dramatic kimono affair of black silk embroidered with green dragons with scarlet flames shooting out of their mouths. On the table by the bed stood a bottle of Pernod, a bucket of ice, and a jug of water. Jean sighed. Once Prudence settled down with a bottle of Pernod there was no way of knowing what time she would be allowed to retire.
"Drink, Jean?"
Jean walked over to where Prudence lay. "Yes, okay, but don't make it too strong. Sometime I've got to translate my shorthand."
Prudence poured Jean a stiff Pernod, and dropped some ice into the glass. She handed it to her secretary. "Now, when you're ready, well go back to the days when I first arrived in Europe, broke, penniless, without a friend."
"I thought you were taken to London from New York by Sarah Lillie, the famous actress," Jean said in an innocent voice.
Prudence took a long drink from her Pernod, counted ten, then gave an exasperated sigh. "Yes, I did. But she was the only friend I had in those days."
"She was also famous and rich, so you weren't exactly broke, penniless and without a friend," Jean replied, complacently sipping her drink and adjusting the spectacles on her nose.
"Jean, why is it that every time I try to get going on my memoirs you interrupt with irrelevant remarks?"
"You know perfectly well why Prudence. Someone, one day, is going to write your biography, and your association with Sarah Lillie was well known in those days-you said so yourself. It's no use trying to fabricate your own autobiography. You've been too much in the public eye most of your life."
Prudence took another swig of her Pernod, then lay back on the cushions with closed eyes. Yes, it was true. Her friendship with the famous Sarah Lillie had been well known back in those days. How long ago? Twenty years? Twenty-five years? Or was it thirty?
Prudence cast about in her mind. She had been twenty when she had stood outside the stage door of a New York theatre, autograph book in hand, waiting for the arrival of the divine Sarah Lillie. That meant that it was thirty-two years ago precisely! Oh My Lord, how the years fly, Prudence thought. And yet it didn't seem so long ago.
She remembered what she had looked like in those days-very much like that chit of a girl she had signed up in New York for this tour-Loretta Larson. Yes, she had been very much like that girl-slim, long black hair, dark mischievous eyes, and full red lips. She had been all those things.
"May I have your autograph Miss Lillie?" Prudence remembered asking the actress, and had been delighted when the woman had stopped and taken the pencil from her hand. There was a big crowd outside the stage door, and photographers were taking pictures of Sarah Lillie. The scene came back to Prudence as if it was only yesterday. She could once more hear the popping noise, and see the sudden glare of those now old-fashioned cameras.
Sarah Lillie scribbled her name, writing the words "with love" after her untidy signature. She was a beautiful woman, with great brown eyes, and a mass of auburn hair. On this particular night she was dressed in a full length evening gown made of some sort of shiny silver material, and she had a white expensive looking fur coat slung carelessly over her shoulders. To Prudence she looked as unobtainable as the moon, and yet this marvelous creature didn't move away when she had signed her autograph. To Prudence's absolute amazement the woman took her by the-hand.
"Tell me, my dear, are you an actress?" she had asked, and her voice, with its odd English accent, had seemed like velvet to Prudence's ears.
"Well, no, Miss Lillie, not really," she had stammered, aware that the crowd had gone quiet and were straining their ears. "That is, I'm in the theatre, but I'm a dancer really."
"I knew you were an artist. It takes one to recognize one you know," Miss Lillie had laughed. Then she bent close to Prudence's ear. "Come and see me at my hotel tomorrow afternoon about three o'clock. I would like to know more about you."
Then the woman had released her hand, and moved forward to where a chauffeur-driven car was waiting for her. Prudence stood, staring after the actress as she signed a few more autographs, and then got into the back of the car, the door of which was being held open by a theatre official. Again their eyes met, and
Prudence was suddenly aware that the actress was waving-at her. Frantically, she waved back, and then the car started up and the crowd began to disperse. She had stood there, in a kind of dream, not quite believing what had happened was actually true. She was brought out of her reveries by the voice of her friend, Hariet.
"What did she say to you? What did she say?"
Prudence had forgotten all about Hariet, and now she turned to the impatient girl and shrugged her shoulders.
"I couldn't hear," she lied. "There were too many people all talking at once."
Hariet looked disappointed, and quickly Prudence had changed the subject. "Come on let's go home. We have to get up early tomorrow."
And so they went home, and Prudence never told Hariet that Sarah Lillie had asked her to go to the hotel where she was staying. Halfway to the girls' hostel where she and Hariet lived, Prudence suddenly remembered that she didn't know which hotel Sarah Lillie was staying at, and neither had she told the actress her own name. But although these two facts worried her, she still didn't confide in Hariet. It was something personal between herself and Sarah Lillie-almost a secret. To tell Hariet would be the same as telling all the girls in the hostel-Hariet would go around telling everyone that she, Prudence, was having tea with the famous Sarah Lillie. And it wouldn't be a personal thing any more-it would be common property.
Next day, she had telephoned the theatre where Sarah Lillie was appearing, and after a certain amount of trouble found out the hotel where the actress was staying. She arrived dead on three o'clock, and told the receptionist to inform Miss Lillie that she, Prudence Chancellor, had arrived. Then she waited impatiently, wonder if Miss Lillie would remember her from the night before, and presume that the caller was in fact the girl who had asked for her autograph outside the stage door.
Finally a maid had appeared in the lobby of the expensive hotel and spoke to the receptionist who pointed in her direction. The maid then came over to her. She was a slim fair haired girl with a shy smile, and she had an English accent.
"Would you follow me, please, Miss Lillie is expecting you," the girl said, and Prudence obediently followed her over the carpeted lobby floor and into the lift. They got out on the third floor, and finally Prudence found herself being ushered into the most luxurious apartment that her young eyes had ever seen before.
The whole suite of rooms was decorated in a style much in fashion in those days-massive chandeliers, large expanses of gilt framed mirrors, and red plush everywhere. And, of course, Miss Lillie being a celebrated actress, the whole place was filled with flowers. Prudence remembered those flowers-they were mostly white flowers, Lilies of the Valley. They had been Sarah's favorite, and when, many years later, Sarah had died, Prudence had sent a simple bunch of Lilies of the Valley. By then, of course, they had long since lost contact with one another, but Prudence had sent them for old time's sake.
But on this pleasant summer afternoon, when Prudence had been left alone by the maid in the lavishly decorated room, Sarah Lillie had been very much alive. She had swept into the room in a billowing house-coat of jade green, which set off to perfection her liquid brown eyes, and shining auburn hair. Prudence found herself being led by this delightful woman to a deep divan, and soon they were sitting talking together while Miss Lillie's maid served tea.
Prudence found that the famous actress was very easy to get on with, and not at all like she had expected her to be. Now that she saw
Sarah in the light of day, she could see that she wasn't so young as she looked on stage, or indeed as she had looked outside the entrance to the theatre the night before. Not that this altered Prudence's adoration of the woman-rather it enhanced it. Not only was she a beautiful woman, but she was mature, witty and intelligent. She listened most sympathetically while Prudence told her what little there was to know about her own life. How her family lived in Baltimore, and she had come to New York after being trained as a dancer. How difficult it was to get work, and how she worked as a waitress when there was nothing in the theatre. And as she talked, Prudence was always aware of Sarah's large liquid brown eyes regarding her with an expression which in her innocence she couldn't quite interpret.
It wasn't until a week later that she found out just why Sarah Lillie looked at her the way she did. At the end of that week she had visited the actress three times in her hotel, and now she was waiting for her outside the stage door, after having been given a complementary ticket for that evening's performance.
There had been the usual crowd of fans wanting autographs, but finally Prudence found herself alone with Sarah in her chauffeur-driven car being taken back to the hotel.
"I thought your performance was great this evening, Miss Lillie," Prudence said tentatively.
Sarah took her hand in her own. "Than you my dear. But you don't have to call me Miss Lillie, you can call me Sarah. After all I always call you Prudence," and she had exerted the pressure of her grip on Prudence's hand.
Prudence had felt overjoyed at the intimate friendliness of this great English actress, although at that point she couldn't think why Sarah was bothering herself with a chit of a girl who wanted to be a dancer, but who spent most of her time working as a waitress. When they got back to the hotel Prudence decided to ask Sarah why she spent any time with her, a nobody, when she could have her pick of New York society if she so wished.
They were sitting on the divan when Prudence posed this question. Sarah had changed into her green housecoat, and Prudence could smell the woman's subtle perfume which she always wore.
"But my dear Prudence, I like your company. I think you're a very attractive girl," Sarah had said, putting an arm about Prudence's shoulders. "In fact, you're the most attractive girl I've met in New York so far," she added.
Prudence flushed with pleasure at these compliments, and Sarah put a hand up to her face, stroking her cheek.
"You've got a beautiful skin Prudence, do you know that?" Sarah asked, and quite suddenly Prudence felt embarrassed. The actress was pressing herself very close, and when the hand slipped from her cheek and started to caress her neck, finally dipping beneath the white organza blouse she was wearing, Prudence found that she was trembling slightly.
"You don't mind me touching you, do ou?" Sarah asked, and Prudence could only shake her head, unable to speak because of a constricting tightness that had assailed her throat. The thought was hammering in her brain, that Sarah was being very intimate, and that she'd been a fool not to realize why a woman in her position should bother to befriend someone like herself. If only she'd had more experience, she thought to herself, she'd know how to cope with a situation like this. But she was totally inexperienced, and although she felt she ought to stop what was happening, yet she was afraid of losing Sarah's friendship. She liked the woman, and there had been more than a hint that she would be willing to help her own career in the theatre. If she made a scene now, and walked out of the hotel, she was sure she would never see Sarah again.
Sarah's hand had now gone right down beneath the organza blouse, beneath her petticoat, and was smoothly rubbing against the swell of her breasts. In those days she never wore anything to support her breasts. For one thing the clever bra-cups of today hadn't been invented, and she had never liked the restricting corselets that some girls of that time had worn. She was a dancer, and she liked to feel that her limbs were free. Sarah obviously approved of this arrangement, because it wasn't long before she had cupped one of her breasts in her hand. She commenced to squeeze the pliant orb, lasciviously rubbing a thumb against the blood-red teat until it stuck up hard and erect.
Prudence gasped as Sarah undid the buttons at the back of her blouse and slipped it down over her shoulders. The actress then pulled the straps of the petticoat over her shoulders, and pushed that down as well, completely exposing her titties.
"They're beautiful," Sarah murmured. "Quite beautiful," and bending her head, closed her mouth over the warm fruit of one of Prudence's melons, while she played with the other one with her hand.
Up to this point Prudence had been wondering how she could get out of the situation in which she now found herself, without offending Sarah. But as the woman continued to suck and play with her bubs, Prudence became aware that the sensations being caused by Sarah's treatment of her breasts were entirely pleasant. Why, she thought, should she risk offending the woman? Why not let her do what she wanted? After all, so far it had given her nothing but pleasure-She relaxed against the back of the divan, her full breasts pouting upwards, giving Sarah more scope. The minutes ticked by, and Prudence continued to luxuriate in the thorough going-over her bubblies were receiving in Sarah's expert mouth and hand. It was only when that hand left her breast and went down to her legs, tucking her dress up around her thighs, that panic struck her again. In her innocence she had thought that Sarah would be content in going so far as she had, but now probing fingers were traveling up the inside of her legs, going underneath her panties.
"Sarah, don't do that, please," she whispered.
Sarah, however, ignored Prudence's plea. She knew that Prudence had allowed her to go too far already to be able to stop her. She wormed her hand underneath the elasticized legs of the bloomers the girl was wearing, closing it firmly over the gorgeous soft bush of hair. Gently she probed with her index finger amongst the soft hairs, separating them to enable her to stroke the nakedness of Prudence's slit. She could feel Prudence's slim body tremble, and could hear the girl swallowing noisily. She continued with her finger, up and down the sensitive smoothness of Prudence's slit, occasionally pushing between the puffy softness of the girl's twat lips, until at last she sank her finger into the gash itself.
Prudence, by this time, knew that she was lost and she would never be able to stop Sarah now. The woman was still nibbling one of her cherries, worrying the hard little teat with sharp teeth. That, plus what she was doing with her fingers, was slowly but surely exciting her to the point where she started to squirm seductively. It wasn't her intention to encourage Sarah, but somehow she found she couldn't help it. She had now slipped right down on the settee, and her legs had fallen apart. The insistent finger inside her cunt was joined by another, and she began to groan as Sarah manipulated her clitty. Almost of their own accord, her hips started to push upwards, and her legs went out straight in front of her.
"Sarah, stop. For heaven's sake, stop," she moaned.
But it was too late. Her body was shaking uncontrollably now, and with a suddenness which surprised both herself and Sarah, she began to release a steady stream of juice. Sarah bit hard on her teat, continuing to masturbate with her fingers as they were covered with oily sap.
There was a soft squelching noise as she kept her fingers moving, and Prudence groaned again as she released another stream of her girl spunk. Finally Sarah removed her fingers, and taking her mouth away from Prudence's inflamed orb, threw herself back onto the settee. Undoing the front of her green housecoat, she revealed her nakedness beneath. She was plumper than Prudence would have thought, possessing generously curved hips, and very full milk-filled breasts with dark red teats. Sarah swung her legs up onto the roomy divan, placing one behind Prudence and the other across her lap.
"Make me come, darling. Go on, do the same to me as I've just done to you. Please hurry darling.. . " Sarah panted in a hoarse voice that Prudence hardly recognized.
For a few seconds Prudence stared, fascinated, at the luxuriant bush of brownish hairs that covered Sarah's fat-lipped twat. It was true. Sarah had just given her a lot of pleasure. The least she could do for the actress was to return that pleasure. Slowly she reached out both her hands, placing them on either side of Sarah's wound. Carefully she eased the plump lips apart so that she was looking straight down in the moist pink hole of Sarah's sex.
"Prudence, suck me! Go on-suck me!" she heard Sarah's voice urge.
Again Prudence heard the tiny voice in her head. Why not? it asked. So bending her head she closed her mouth over the gaping hole of Sarah's cunt, keeping the lips splayed apart with her hands as she did so. Immediately she could taste the pungent musky sex juices which were seeping out of Sarah's excited cunt-hole, and the aroma of those juices filled her nostrils. Although she had never done this before, Prudence had a good idea what was expected of her. Sticking out her tongue, she licked the velvety walls of Sarah's vagina with tentative slow licks. Almost immediately the woman started to tremble, her hips surging upwards. Prudence found Sarah's clitty. It felt hard and oily beneath her tongue, and as soon as it was touched more juice was released against her lips.
She began to worry the clitty, brushing her tongue against it time and time again. She could feel Sarah's hands pulling at her hair in anguish, and the actress's whole body began to twist and shake, almost dislodging her mouth from the juicy hole to which it was glued.
How long she had been teasing Sarah's clitty, causing the woman to sob with ardor, Prudence didn't know. All she knew was that eventually Sarah's legs rose into the air, waving wildly, and that her mouth was filled with the acrid sap of her orgasm. Although completely untutored in the arts of lesbian love, Prudence found herself sucking it out of Sarah's flooded sex hole, and swallowing the stuff. She didn't like the taste, but somehow it gave her a perverse sense of pleasure to suck it down her throat while Sarah continued to shake and moan. A perverse sense of pleasure that soon became a normal sort of pleasure. For when Sarah had recovered, she insisted that they went to bed together. It was the beginning of a very intimate relationship, and when finally Sarah's play finished in New York, and she set sail for London, Prudence had gone with her.
How well she remembered those days. The excitement, the glamour of seeing places like London, Paris, Rome, The prestige of having a friend like Sarah Lillie. It had been Sarah who had really given her the break she needed, introducing her to influential people. She had the talent, and all she had wanted was the opportunity to use that talent. Sarah had given her that opportunity, and she had never looked back. She had become famous in her own right as a dancer, and she had eventually formed her own company. But by the time that happened she and Sarah had parted company. But she had never forgotten Sarah, and they had parted on good terms. She remembered being shocked when she heard of the actress's death. She couldn't have been that old, or was she.. . ?
Prudence started to work out how old Sarah would have been when she died, but she was interrupted by Jean's voice, recalling her to the present.
"Prudence, are we going to get any work done tonight or aren't we?"
Prudence opened her eyes. Jean was sitting by the side of the bed, notebook in hand. Dear Jean, what would she do without her? She was the only real friend she had left. All the others, the flatterers, the admirers of her work, they were only really interested in one thing-themselves. The members of her company were all young, and like all young people, they were busy going places. Prudence sighed. It was no use getting sentimental. She waved a much braceleted arm in the air, causing a steady jungle.
"Don't rush me Jean. I was just collecting my thoughts. Now are you ready? Let's cover my arrival in Europe-the truth this time-well, at least in outline. The details are a bit too personal even for an autobiography. Right, here we go. At the age of twenty, as an inexperienced gauche girl trying to make my way through the jungle of complexities which surround theatre life and theatre people, I was fortunate enough to be befriended by the then famous actress, Sarah Lillie. She was kindness itself, and it was through her that I got my first break in the profession I had chosen and the profession which I have since followed all my life.. . "
Once she got warmed up, Prudence started talking very quickly, and Jean's pencil flew over the pages of her notebook with precision and speed. For once Prudence was sticking to the main facts, and not trying to mix up dates and personalities. Jean, as had already been said, knew Prudence very well. Therefore, she found Prudence's memoirs more fascinating, perhaps, than someone who didn't know her so well. As Jean scribbled away with her pencil she was reading between the lines. For instance, she had no doubts about the sort of relationship that really existed between Prudence and Sarah Lillie. She had seen photographs of Prudence when she was very young, and she couldn't blame Sarah Lillie if that's where her tastes lay. Prudence had been quite beautiful. It was funny really but the new girl, Loretta Larson, looked like Prudence did when she was young. She wondered if Prudence had noticed the resemblance. Or was that why Prudence had taken the girl on in the first place? Because the girl reminded Prudence of herself. She only hoped that Prudence kept her hands off the girl. If she didn't it could only mean trouble-of that Jean felt quite sure.
Meanwhile, Loretta lay in her own bedroom in the same hotel, reading. The book was science fiction, but it wasn't holding her interest. To make matters worse she didn't even feel tired, although the evening's performance at the theatre had been as strenuous as always. On an impulse she got out of bed, flung a dressing gown over her shoulders, covering up her shortie nightgown, slipped her feet into a pair of mules and left the bedroom. The corridor outside was deserted, and swiftly she walked to the very end where she knew Shane had his room. She knocked lightly on the door, and after a while she heard the key turn in the lock and Shane stood there, dressed like herself in a dressing gown.
"Little girls ought to be asleep by now," he grinned.
Loretta ignored the remark, walking into the room. Shane carefully locked the door again, and going to the bed, the sheets of which were thrown back, indicating that he had been in bed when she knocked, he climbed inside once again.
As he did so, she could see that he was quite naked beneath the dressing gown, but she didn't even blush. Since she had joined forces with the Prudence Chancellor Dance Company she had learned not to blush quite so easily! Not that the thought of what had happened at Martin King's party in London didn't still make her go hot all over. It did!
Oddly enough neither she, Shane or Joni had ever talked about that night. It seemed as though both Shane and Joni had decided it was best to forget all about it, and for that Loretta was thankful. She had been drunk, and it would have been awful if Shane or Joni had teased her on the subject. She had suffered the most terrible hangover the next day, and that evening at the theatre had been sheer hell. Shane and Joni had seemed their normal selves, which suggested that they hadn't drunk quite so much as she had that night. Anyway, it had taught her a lesson, she would never drink so much champagne, or indeed anything else, at a party again. "Come into bed and keep me warm," Shane now suggested.
"Can't you ever be serious?" Loretta demanded with a frown.
"Honey, I am serious," Shane replied. "And after all it wouldn't be the first time."
Loretta slipped the dressing gown off her shoulders. "Yes, okay, I'll get into bed. But no funny business. I want to talk to you seriously."
"I'll be as good as gold," Shane promised.
She climbed into bed, arranged the pillows so that she could sit upright comfortably, and cleared her throat.
"I had an interesting proposition today," she began.
"Honey, with your qualifications that doesn't surprise me," Shane grinned, his hand going up to the front of her nightie.
She frowned, slapping his hand away. "Can't you ever be serious, just once," she repeated. "Serious about other things except you know what." Shane kept quiet, so she continued. "You were born in this town, weren't you Shane?"
It was Shane's turn to frown. "Yes, that's right. I still have French nationality, although I'm thinking of changing it to American. But what's that got to do with your proposition?"
"Just this. A certain Monsieur Gabriel Vilodet visited me here at the hotel this afternoon. You and the others were rehearsing that new number at the theatre. He told me he'd seen the show three times since we've been in Paris."
"Oh, one of those," Shane interrupted.
"I don't think so. He's quite young, and he says he's already got two documentary films to his credit. He wants to make another film, a full-length documentary all to do with various forms of the dance. He's looking for young dancers, and he wanted to know if I was interested."
"And what did you say?" Shane asked.
"I told him I'd meet him again tomorrow. That's why I'm telling you about it. I thought you might come along with me. His English is quite good, but you being a Frenchman yourself, would be able to size him up much more quickly than myself.. . "
"In other words you're not sure if he's a phony or not?"
Loretta gave a rueful smile. "I'm learning not to take everyone at their face value," she replied. "I'd like a second opinion."
"Wise girl. But how do you stand with this company? Aren't you under contract like the rest of us?" Shane asked.
"Only for this tour. After Rome we're all due to be shipped back to America as you know. If this Vilodet character has a definite proposition to make I could stay behind in Europe after the two weeks we're due to appear in Rome. Miss Chancellor couldn't object to that could she?"
"No, not as far as I can see. But are you sure you want to stay in Europe? You'd be alone you know, and that's a bit different from touring around with a large company like the one we're in now. You might get lonesome."
Shane glanced across at Loretta to see what effect his words were having. He laughed when he saw the mournful expression on Loretta's face as she thought of the possibilities of being lonesome. "I was only joking. It's highly unlikely that a girl like you will be lonely in Paris-if that's where this character is thinking of making his film. What time did you arrange to meet him tomorrow?"
"He said he'd come to the hotel at two o'clock and take me out for a drink."
"Okay, I'll come with you and give him the once over. That's if he agrees to the idea-perhaps he's got designs on getting you alone somewhere."
"If he has I'm not interested," Loretta laughed. "Not that he's not attractive. But I've got my career to think about."
"And how do you see your career, Miss Larson?" Shane asked in a solemn voice.
Loretta gave the young black man a sharp glance, wondering if he was laughing at her. Deciding that he was taking her seriously for a change, she outlined her plans.
"I'm going to use Prudence Chancellor for a model. I want to be a great dancer and choreographer like she is. And I want to have my own company eventually. I can just see it.
The Loretta Larson Company has the pleasure of presenting.. . . "
"And how old did you say you were?" Shane asked, and this time there was a hint of laughter in his voice.
"I'm twenty in four weeks time. But I don't see what that's got to do with it. Prudence Chancellor, so I believe, was well on her way at my age."
"You can believe what you like, but me, I wouldn't like to say what darling Prudence was doing at your age," Shane remarked thoughtfully.
Loretta giggled, reverting to what she was, a teenager with a lot of grandiose plans for the future. "I bet she wasn't wasting her time in bed with another dancer."
Shane dived beneath the bedclothes, and catching hold of Loretta's legs, pulled her down into the bed, pinning her down with his arms. "Who said anything about it being a waste of time?" he demanded. "It's you who wastes all the time, chattering away like a tree full of magpies."
"Shane, let me go. I came here to ask your advice not to.. .Shane, stop it! You bastard stop that.--.Ooh Shane!"
Loretta's protests were cut short as Shane closed his lips over hers, sliding his tongue inside her mouth. He was thinking to himself that no girl climbed into a man's bed at midnight merely to ask for advice. And in that assumption he may well have been right. Loretta had lain in her own bed restless and tired. She had gone along to Shane's room on the spur of the moment, ostensibly to ask his opinion on a matter which was occupying her thoughts. But in all truth she could easily have waited until the next morning.. .In all truth!
But what could a girl of Loretta's age and experience know about the truth? She was still cutting her teeth on a complex world which always managed to find room for a beautiful nineteen-year-old-on its own terms of course. Loretta, at this stage in her life, was without positive direction. She thought she knew which way she was going, but she still had a lot to learn. To begin with, she had to learn about herself, and her own motives for doing the things she did.
Loretta, in fact, was an odd mixture. She was an American, with American parents. But her grandmother, now dead, had been Italian. Her grandfather, still alive and living in New York, was Scottish. This mixture was always showing itself in Loretta's character. To begin with she looked like an Italian girl, with black hair and dark flashing eyes. She could be sensuous and wild on occasions, and then, without warning, the cautious hard-headedness of the Scottish race would assert itself.
It was typical of Loretta that she should be planning her future career with determination, and at the same time fooling about in bed with the young dancer who wasn't really interested in her plans for the future. Not that one could blame Shane for that! He was only twenty-two himself, and he had his own future to think about. Also he had, up to now, had a much tougher life than Loretta.
Jacques-Pierre Le Veuve, which was Shane's real name, had first drawn a distinct parallel between his own life and that of other children at the tender age of thirteen. At that time he had conceived a passionate fascination for a thirteen-year-old girl with long yellow hair and blue eyes, whose name was Simone. She went to the same school as himself, but as the boys and girls were educated separately, he couldn't feast his eyes on this vision in the classroom.
Even in those days, he had been nicknamed by his fellow students as Shane, after some character who was at that time popular in children's comics, and who was always getting into trouble. Certainly Jacques-Pierre Le Veuve was not popular with the teachers of his school. He was always playing truant, and when he did turn up he was constantly getting into the sort of mischief which Authority couldn't tolerate.
He was always being hauled up for a caning, corporal punishment being much approved by the head of that particular school. It would be wrong to say that the beatings Shane received had no effect on him. They made him much more cunning! It also divided the world as he saw it between him and "them." It was a division which was to stay with him for the rest of his life. Authority for Shane came to mean one thing-trouble for himself.
But Shane had long been accustomed to fending for himself. He had never known his mother, who disappeared soon after he was born. He knew that she had been French, and that his father had never married her. He had therefore been left in the care of his father, an Algerian, and also an alcoholic. They lived in a chaotic muddle on the outskirts of Paris with another family of Algerians. This family consisted of a mother, father, and seven children. The mother and father quarreled incessantly, and most nights they would fight-using knives, broken bottles, and other less sophisticated weapons! The children ran wild-Shane with them. His father spent most of the time in the house in a drunken stupor, only emerging to get some sort of job when he was driven to it by the quarrelling couple, who would sign a temporary pact and turn on Shane's father instead. Such was Shane's home life, and if he played truant from his school there was no one at his home who cared.
Simone, however, changed all that. He no longer stayed away from school. He used to wait for her every evening outside the school walls, and walk part of the way to her home. Looking back, Shane realized that thirteen-year-old Simone was even more precocious than he was himself at that age. It was she who suggested one evening that they walk through a local park on the way to her home. It was summer, and the sun was hot. She led him to a thick clump of shrubbery, and then stood still, looking about her to see if they were observed.
There was no one within sight except an old gentleman dozing on a park bench. Quickly, she caught hold of his hand and led him into the shrubs. Again, looking back, Shane drew the conclusion that this wasn't the first time Simone had visited this particular clump" of shrubs. She seemed to know exactly where she wanted him to go, and doubled up they forced their way into the very center of the shrubbery to a small open space-just large enough for them both to lie down.
Simone, wearing a black pinafore dress, with dark blue blouse, dropped her school books on the ground, and then sat down, dragging him after her. He had no idea what to do, but
Simone soon showed him.
She lay back on the ground, her thin schoolgirl legs stretched out straight. Getting hold of his hand she pushed it up her skirt. He fumbled about for a bit, feeling very excited, his breathing coming in short gasps. Finally Simone had sat up again, pouting her lips.
"You're not doing it properly," she informed him. "You lie down, and I'll do it to you."
With that she pushed him backwards, and at this point Simone had paused, looking at the dark brown skin of his bare legs, for as yet he hadn't started to wear long trousers.
"I've never touched black skin before. Is your thing black as well?" she asked pensively.
Shane hadn't replied, merely gulping nervously. Without more ado, Simone had then pushed her hand underneath his shorts. His prick, not so large then as it was now, was already stiff. It became stiffer as Simone's hand closed over it. However, Simone not only wanted to feel his sex but see it as well. She wanted to see if it really was the same color as the rest of him.
Neatly she folded one leg of his shorts up to his crotch, and then dragged his cock clear. She caught hold of the jerking stiff little tool in her hand, pushing the foreskin back as far as it would go, causing Shane to groan.
"It is the same color," she exclaimed. "I've never seen one before."
By which Simone meant that she had never seen a black one before! She had seen quite a few white ones, this particular rendezvous in the park shrubbery being a favorite haunt of hers on the way home from school. Certainly she knew what to do, and it wasn't long before she had Shane writhing and gasping for breath. She did it so well in fact, that Shane suddenly went rigid, shooting a line of spunk into the air, some of which hit Simone in the face.
This wasn't the first time he had experienced an orgasm, but it was the first time he had experienced one at the hands of a girl. Up to now it had been other boys at the school. They used to play around with each other in the lavatories. Shane remembered feeling a bit disappointed. It had been no different than when a boy had done it to him.
Simone, though, hadn't finished yet. When he had recovered his breath, she again lay down on the soft earth. Pushing her dress up to her waist, she had caught hold of her white bloomers, and wriggled them down over her hips. Shane had sat up, his spent cock still sticking out of the rolled-up leg of his shorts, watching with fascination. He knew girls were different, but he wasn't sure how different.
Now, for the first time in his young life, he was being treated to a close-up of the female sex. And what he saw quite frightened him. He put his hand on Simone's belly, luxuriating in he softness of her body. Curiously he probed with his finger down between her legs, pushing between the girl's cunt-lips experimentally.
Simone had hardly any pubic hair, only a few yellow strands that were almost invisible. Once he had inserted his finger between the velvety soft lips, he could see that they remained open, and Simone was beginning to wriggle slightly. He pushed further inside. It felt slightly wet, and very soft. Simone was wriggling harder now, and her breathing deepened. He could feel a little bump inside Simone's hole. It was her clitty, although in those days he couldn't have put a name to it. But he knew that the little bump must be sensitive, because every time his finger touched it Simone would wriggle just that little bit more.
Shane, by this time, was finding the whole thing very exciting, and when Simone reached for his little cock again, it was hard and stiff, ready for more action. Doing what comes naturally, he took his finger out of Simone's fascinating little hole, and then lay on top of her.
He had no idea what to do next, but as it turned out he didn't have to do it. Simone did if for him! Holding his dick in both her hands, she guided it between her legs. Once she had got the knob ledged inside her cunt, pushing against the entrance to her cunt-hole, she let go and Shane sank into her with ease. Simone started to groan, and Shane wondered if what was happening was hurting her. He needn't have worried. It was hurting Simone, but she liked it. She had done this before with other boys.
Again doing what came naturally, Shane began to fuck little Simone, raising and lowering his hips in strong thrusts. He started to come again almost immediately, shooting a line of spunk inside the squirming groaning Simone, emptying himself thoroughly into her schoolgirl pussy.
He then lay on top of her, panting for breath. Simone, however, wouldn't let him go off her. She put her arms around his waist, holding him tight. After about five minutes he started again. They didn't kiss, they didn't do anything. They just lay in each other's arms, fucking like a couple of young dogs in heat.
Simone must have been pleased with her first experience of a black boy. After the first time she was always waiting outside the school wall if she got out of class first. The other children used to shout rude things after them as they went down the road hand-in-hand.
They didn't mind.
The day came when they both had to leave the school. Simone went onto another center of education, Shane started work in a local garage. Before that happened, though, Simone had once taken him into her home. It was an ordinary, working-class home, set in Paris suburb. But to Shane it seemed like a palace compared with his own home. It was then that he fully became conscious, for the first time, that not everybody in the world lived in the same squalor as himself.
He determined, then and there, to do something about it. He had a good physique for his age, and he was caught trying to get into the circus tent by the proprietor of the circus himself. The man, who happened to have a liking for very young boys, ended up by offering him a job. But that was another story.. .He had traveled far, and seen much since those early days. It had led to him becoming a member of the Prudence Chancellor Company as a dancer. It had also led him to being in bed with one of Miss Chancellor's youngest recruits. A nineteen-year-old girl, who liked being screwed but hadn't , as yet, got around to admitting it to herself. Loretta, who had to give herself an excuse before she came to visit him in this Paris hotel bedroom. Loretta, the girl with plans for the future. Well, for his purposes, the future was now.
Keeping his mouth pressed to Loretta's, Shane pushed a bold hand underneath her nightie. He knew from past experience how to cope with the girl's protests, and this time was no different from other occasions. As soon as his hand closed greedily over the warm patch of hair between her legs, all resistance faded.
She wanted it all right, just as much as he was willing to give it. He took his hand from between Loretta's legs and pulled her over onto her side so that they were facing each other. Jabbing his stiff prick into her stomach, he pushed himself closer, making sure that his meat was sliding sexily up and down her slit. Next he pushed her nightie up around her neck, bringing into play her quite delightful titties. Once he had caught hold of the waiting melons in his hands, Loretta responded by closing both her hands over his dick.
He grunted as she pushed his foreskin back, and squeezed hard on her titties in retaliation. He was still wearing his dressing gown, but he didn't bother to take it off. It was open all the way down the front, giving him complete freedom.
Shane was right when he guessed that Loretta wanted what he could give. She admitted to herself, even if reluctantly, that this was the real reason she had come to Shane's room. There hadn't been much opportunity during the last two weeks in London, and since they had been in Paris things had been too hectic-they had all worked too hard to do anything except go to bed exhausted after the show. Go to bed alone that is!
Joni had tried to tempt her once or twice, but she had managed to evade the issue without causing offense. Loretta was aware that somewhere in her make-up she had latent lesbian tendencies-how else to explain Nancy back in New York? But these tendencies were latent, and Loretta was sure of one thing. If it was a question of choice she preferred to go to bed with men. And she certainly liked being made love to by Shane.
His strongly muscled dancer's physique, his dark smooth skin, and his undeniable virility-they all combined to sexually excite her. He was exciting her now. Exciting her so much that it was she who was bending his long phallus between her legs, spearing her itching sex orifice onto the large greasy black knob.
Loretta began to concentrate on what she was doing, breathing hard as she moved her hips backwards and forwards, accepting inch by inch the black meat jabbing into her fanny. A shudder ran through her body, and she gave a long contented sigh as her belly met Shane's. She had screwed herself onto his cock right down to the hilt. She could feel the potent pole throbbing with power and life inside her. She pushed her hands up underneath Shane's dressing gown and around his naked back, her nails digging into the black man's smooth dark skin.. .
CHAPTER FIVE
The Prudence Chancellor Company never did finish its European tour in Rome. On the last night in Paris something happened which completely altered the course of events for Prudence Chancellor and her entire company. Their last day in Paris was hot, and Prudence shut herself up in her room, surrounded by iced drinks, with only Jean Staples, her secretary, for company. She reclined on her bed, dressed in her favorite kimono decorated with dragons, occasionally taking thirsty gulps from a glass of Pernod loaded with ice.
"You drink too much of that stuff," Jean reprimanded. "It'll rot you guts in the end."
"A little drink never hurt anyone. It may kill you, but it won't hurt, " Prudence replied gaily. "Anyway, I've practically lived on it for years and I'm still here."
The telephone rang, and Jean picked up the receiver. She listened for a while, and then told the caller to hold on. "It's Tony Salvadore. He wants to know if you're calling a rehearsal this afternoon. He says as it's the last night, it might be a good idea to get everything as perfect as possible."
Prudence waved a hand in the air, jingling her bracelets. "Tell him to skip it Jean. It's too bloody hot. Give those kids the afternoon off. They've worked bloody hard on this trip. The show's been going fine. No reason why it shouldn't go fine tonight, last night or not."
Jean passed the instructions onto Tony, then replaced the receiver. "Says he thinks there ought to be a rehearsal. Not happy with that new number we introduced."
Prudence yawned noisily. "He's a good choreographer, and a good buy. But he overdoes it. I'm all for hard work-only way to get anything done-but he drives those kids nuts as though they were a bunch of slaves. By the time he's finished rehearsing them, they're more ready to go to bed than do an evening's performance."
"From what I hear about some of them they are always ready to go to bed," Jean sniffed, primly adjusting her spectacles.
Prudence gave a raucous laugh. "Jean, don't talk like a cross-legged priggish spinster. Who isn't ready to go to bed if they're given a chance?"
"Well, all I can say is that I didn't behave like today's youngsters when I was young," Jean retorted. "Sex used to mean something in my day. But now! Why, it's treated as something to do when you're bored-like cleaning your teeth or something."
"Don't you believe it! People don't change much. The only people who take sex that seriously are those who're not getting it. Believe me, I know! Since I more or less retired from the sexual roundabout, I've though about it far more than I did when I was well seated on the merry-go-round. For one thing one has more time to think about it. You think about it, instead of doing it. Sad really.. . "
The prim look on Jean's face suddenly faded, and she smiled warmly at Prudence. "I didn't mean to sound like a meeting of the Daughters of America. I'm not really against the youngsters enjoying themselves, even though I know I missed out on it myself. Never had the right qualifications I suppose. Not that I regret it, I've had some good times without it."
"Come and have a drink Jean," Prudence said in a gruff voice, which didn't quite hide the real affection she had for her secretary. "Here, I'll pour one for you. Then well get through some more of my memoirs. There's not much left to do you'll be glad to hear no doubt. When we get back to New York, and you've got it all down in type, I'll have a go through it again. Then I shall dedicate it to posterity-the real life story of Prudence Chancellor, celebrated dancer, choreographer, and Lord knows what else."
Jean took her drink, and then sat down beside the bed where Prudence reclined. She peered through her spectacles, a frown on her face. "Prudence, are you sure you want to do any work this afternoon?" she asked, concern in her voice.
Prudence looked at her sharply. "Why the hell not?" she demanded.
"Oh nothing, just thought as it was so hot you'd prefer to rest," Jean replied. It wasn't what she wanted to say, but she knew
Prudence would only get upset if she told her what was on her mind. It was just that from close quarters Prudence looked so tired. She always wore a lot of make-up, but now in the privacy of her room, she wasn't wearing any. It wasn't the first time she'd seen Prudence without cosmetics, but it was the first time she'd seen her looking so tired.
There were deep furrows in her cheeks, and the lines around her eyes looked more pronounced than usual. Prudence worked hard; Jean knew that. The organization of a company like this one on tour was a full-time occupation, and Prudence still went on stage. That fall she did every night down the staircase onto the stage-rubber stairs or not-was enough to give most women of her age a heart attack on the spot. Not that it was any use trying to tell Prudence to slow down. She never would listen to suggestions of that sort. Even when she did relax, as she was doing now, she had to be doing something-dictating her memoirs, or talking on the phone. She was always driving herself-either mentally or physically.
Jean sighed, then settled down with her notebook and pencil. "Okay, Miss Chancellor, shoot," she said with a smile.
"That's my girl, " Prudence replied. "Now, let's start with my visit to Moscow."
"Moscow?" Jean said incredulously.
"Yes, Jean, Moscow. I thought you were supposed to know all about me. At least you often give that impression.. . "
"There's no need to be sarcastic Prudence," Jean said gently. "I thought I did know most things about you, but I have to admit that I wasn't aware you had visited Russia in your youth."
"Jean, I'm not that old. But let's skip that. Yes, I visited Moscow. I was asked to go there by the Russian government. They said that my dancing epitomized the spirit of revolutionary Russia."
"They must have been nuts," Jean said bluntly.
For a moment Jean thought she'd gone too far, then to her surprise Prudence started to laugh. "Damn it you're right. They were nuts. And I was nuts ever to go to Moscow. But then in those days I was young, adventurous, and, I suppose, very, very foolhardy. But be that as it may, I arrived in Moscow by train one freezing cold morning. I was twenty-five at the time.. . "
Jean quickly flipped through her notes. "When was this Moscow trip?" she asked sharply.
"It was just after I had started my dancing school in London which failed. I remember.. . "
"In that case you were twenty-eight," Jean interrupted firmly.
"Twenty-five, twenty-eight-what's it matter," Prudence replied, waving an arm in the air.
It was a characteristic gesture of Prudence's to wave an arm in the air, and Jean knew that she always did it when she was either telling a tall story, or a downright lie. She didn't comment, but firmly wrote the figure twenty-eight at the top of her page. If she let Prudence have her own way she would remain between twenty and twenty-five through her entire autobiography, which would be ridiculous. Prudence started to talk, and dutifully Jean started to scribble. She found this really interesting-Prudence in Moscow.
It seemed incredible now to imagine Prudence in a place like Moscow. Today she would probably be considered a typical example of the decadent western world with the company's frankly erotic choreography. Moscow, of course, would never ask the Prudence Chancellor Company to visit their country, even if they did once upon the time consider Prudence the spirit of revolutionary Russia.
As Prudence dictated the salient facts of her visit to Russia, in her mind's eye she was once again living those far off days. And most of all she remembered Anna. The words she was now dictating to Jean sounded so cold, so unreal, so unlike what actually happened. And yet to write what really happened when she was in Moscow would mean writing an entirely different book. A book about Anna, not about herself. And of course people wouldn't want to read about an unknown Russian girl. They wanted to read about the internationally famous Prudence Chancellor.
"While I was in Moscow I was befriended by a Russian girl, Anna Kerensky. She was kind to me, a stranger in her country. She had me live with her in a tiny room she occupied. She was a poetess, but she also worked for her mother who was a dressmaker. They were terribly poor-poor in a way that we in the west cannot today imagine.. . " Prudence dictated.
Yes, Anna and her mother had been poor in material wealth, but they thought they were millionaires-they were alive weren't they? Anna, rosy cheeked, long black hair tied on the nape of her neck with a ribbon, the simple black schoolmarm dress she always wore, and the old fur coat that once belonged to her grandmother.
Her mother could speak no English, but Anna had learned the language-and had learned it well. Anna always did everything well, once she had set her mind to it. They had explored Moscow together in the snow, Anna explaining everything, even the poverty. "It will pass. Russia is beginning a new era. My people will live to see great prosperity. We will be a great nation," she would say, her black eyes shining like two live coals. And Prudence would feel like weeping, because she knew that without the money which she herself had supplied, both Anna and her mother would have gone without food that day. Not that she had much money, but in comparison to Anna she was rich.
That night she had danced for the first time in Moscow. The theatre had been cold and bare, and the audience were mostly men in uniform, apart from the city officials who had sponsored her visit. She had danced to the music of a Russian military band, and she had been a great success. In the end some of the soldiers had climbed onto the stage, dancing Cossack style all around her, until she joined them. Anna had also been in the audience, and it was that night that she went back to Anna's tiny room.
The Russian girl had been shy at first, and nervous. She tried to translate some of her poetry into English, but finally her voice had died away, and then she sat just looking at her. Prudence had reached out and took the Russian girl in her arms, and somehow they had got undressed and into the narrow bed.
Was it just nostalgia, or was it really true that Anna had been so beautiful? Prudence thought to herself. She knew that Jean was waiting for her to finish with Anna and go onto more of her Moscow experiences. But now that she had brought the girl back to life in her memory, she couldn't dismiss her so easily. Anna, with her full soft pliant breasts, warm tender skin, and hair so silky it was like running ones hand through oily water. Anna, who once roused, responded with all the vigor of her youth, her race, and her heart. Was it really so long ago? Where was she now.. . ?
Anna, oh Anna, you're so beautiful. Your breasts are full of milk beneath my fingers, your teats hard and erect. Your body is warm and soft, like a field of grass in the summer. Can I play in your field? Can I run my hands down over your hips and into the secret warmth of your thighs? Can I do this to you Anna-like this, like this.. .
I can hear your breath Anna, coming sharp and hard. Do you like me to do this to you? Stroke the fullness of your secret place with my hand; separate the hairs which cover your maidenhood; run my fingers, so gently, along the sensitivity of your sex. Can I Anna? May I? Oh don't move Anna. Now I'm going to penetrate the most intimate part of your lovely body-like this Anna. I'm putting my desirous fingers inside the moistness of your virginity. My fingers are wet, wet with your love Anna. I can feel the wetness inside this velvet pouch which is your body Anna. Do you like me doing this to you Anna? My fingers have now found a little hard protuberance inside this velvet pouch of yours. Every time I touch, you tremble and cry out. But your cries are those of pleasure Anna.
You can do the same to me if you like. Yes, that's right. Here, let me guide your hesitant fingers; let me show you where to dip them inside my own pool of love which I have formed for you. Yes Anna.. .Ahhh!. . .Yeeessss Anna. That is good.. .Now we are feeling inside each other, deep inside the zones of each other's pleasure. There is no pleasure in the world like this Anna. Do you know that? No pleasure in the world like making love to someone as beautiful as you.
What did you say Anna? That I'm beautiful too? Say it again Anna, I want to hear you say it again. Thank you Anna. And now I will close your lips with my own. I will kiss you, like this Anna. Mixing my saliva with yours, brushing my lips against your lips, make love to your tongue with mine. I will do all these things Anna and more. We will live together always and do these things to one another.
Jean sat watching Prudence, who seemed to have fallen into a light sleep, the deep lines in her face more sharply etched than ever. She waited for a while, in case Prudence suddenly awoke, denying that she had ever dropped asleep. It would be typical of Prudence.. .dear Prudence.
But Prudence didn't open her eyes, although she wasn't asleep-not completely. She was still thinking of Anna. How they had left Russia together for America, confident that they would remain together always. How they arranged for Anna's mother to follow them. But America didn't want Anna-a citizen of revolutionary Russia. They made her go back on the next boat, escorted by armed police. And she hadn't been able to do anything. She had been forced to stand there and watch Anna struggling as she was half carried, half pushed, up the gangway of the boat.
And then there had been nothing to do but wave goodbye-except that she could hardly see the tiny figure waving from the deck of the ship. There were too many tears in her eyes. And she had never seen or heard from Anna since. There had been no way of finding out where she was, although she had tried all the usual channels. She wrote to the people who had sponsored her trip to Moscow, and had written to Anna's address, where they had left
Anna's mother. The officials wrote back saying that the mother and daughter had apparently left Moscow, but they didn't know where they had gone.
If Anna ever sent any letters to her in America they never reached their destination. She completely disappeared. Perhaps she and her mother had died of starvation-many people died of starvation in Russia in those grim days. Only the passage of time enabled her to think of Anna dying of hunger. The pain of her separation from the Russian girl was still there-but now. after more than twenty years the pain was just about bearable.
Jean quite suddenly became alarmed. Prudence's breathing had deepened into a heavy rasping sound. It was almost as if she was having difficulty in getting the air into her lungs. She leaned over the bed, shaking Prudence's shoulder urgently. But nothing happened. Prudence wasn't asleep, she was unconscious. Rushing to the telephone Jean spoke in rapid French to the hotel receptionist. She then returned to Prudence, trying to get her up into a sitting position, thinking that she could breathe more easily that way.
She still had her arms around Prudence's shoulders, trying to keep her upright, when the doctor arrived. But he was too late. Prudence was dead. Jean, who had known Prudence was dead before the doctor arrived, was incapable of moving. Tears streaming down her face she continued to try and shake Prudence's shoulders, trying to force the breath back into her lungs. The doctor had difficulty in getting Jean out of the room and into her own room. He had to force her to lie down. He then gave her an injection in the arm. It was a strong sedative, and soon Jean fell into a deep sleep, her face still streaked with tears.
"Now what do we do?" Loretta asked, looking first at Shane and then Joni. They were sitting at the table of a pavement cafe in the Champs-�lys�es in the warm sun drinking Lager. It was the day after Prudence Chancellor's dramatic and unexpected death. The Paris newspapers had headlined the event. The previous night's performance of the Prudence Chancellor Company-the last on their Paris visit-had been cancelled. Arrangements were being made to fly Prudence's body back to America. Arrangements were also being made to fly the whole company back to New York. Jean Staples, Prudence Chancellor's secretary, had called a meeting at the theatre for the whole company that very morning. Grim-faced, red-eyed, and with muffled voice she had informed the company that the Rome visit had been cancelled, and they were all to be returned to New York as soon as possible.
"What do you mean, what do we do? Return to New York I suppose," Shane said.
"What about Gabriel Vilodet?" Loretta asked impatiently. She and Shane had met him on the day arranged, and Shane had agreed that the man seemed to be genuine enough. Loretta had told Vilodet that she would contact him before she left Paris, letting him know whether she could return to Paris after completing the performances in Rome.
"What about Gabriel Vilodet?" Shane now asked.
"Well, he told us he was looking for dancers, not only me, for his film. Why don't you and Joni get in on the act. The Chancellor Company will obviously have to disband for the time being. Why not spend a few weeks in Paris making this film. We'd get paid for it, and Paris is much more attractive than New York at this time of the year," Loretta suggested.
Joni, who had heard all about Gabriel Vilodet from both Loretta and Shane, began to look interested. Prudence Chancellor's death had put an entirely different slant on matters. The company was bound to be disbanded, even if only temporarily, once they were back in
New York. Loretta was right. A few more weeks in Paris would be more enjoyable, and she's never worked in a film studio. It would be good experience. She looked at Shane and saw that he was thinking the same thing. She turned to Loretta. "Honey, ring up this Vilodet guy and tell him he's got three dancers as from now."
Loretta fished in her handbag, eventually producing a slip of paper. "Shane you go and telephone him. Tell him what's happened, just in case he hasn't read the papers. Then ask him if there's room for you and Joni in his film. He's seen you both in action at the theatre. He's seen the show three times."
While Shane went in search of a phone, Joni ordered more drinks, and drew her chair closer to Loretta's. "I'm feeling kind of shaken about Prudence's death," she confided. "I liked the woman. She could be as bitchy as all hell at times, but she always dealt a fair deal to those who worked for her."
"Well, I didn't know her so well as you-in fact, I didn't know her personally at all. But I'll remember always the way she turned up at that crummy theatre in New York where I was working.
After the show she swept around to the dressing rooms and offered me an audition with her company the next day. It was like a bolt out of the blue, it was so unexpected, Loretta said.
"Typical of Prudence. Always on the lookout for talent. She was always charging off to way out theaters in the hope of finding her kind of dancer. She must have been impressed with you to offer an audition on the spot. She found me that way, back in Chicago. Turned up one night where I was working in a sleazy kind of nightclub. She always said she found her most interesting dancers that way, and not in the dancing schools. Good old Prudence," Joni said with a sigh.
"Do you think the company will go on without her?" Loretta asked.
"Doubt it honey. Prudence was the company. She had everything at her fingertips, plus the fact that her name was well known. Take her name away and it's just another company."
"You nuts honey, it takes money, and I don't know about you, but I've never had that sort of money," Joni said, lighting a cigarette.
"All we need is someone to back us," Loretta persisted.
"Fine honey, do you know any philanthropist millionaires?"
"No, but you do."
Joni's eyes grew round, then she burst out laughing. "I know what you're driving at honey. You mean Martin King." Then Joni's face grew more serious. "You know honey, perhaps it's not such a far-fetched idea at that. Martin often says he's feeling bored-that's why he goes in for all the sexual kicks. He may just be interested. He's a funny sort of guy in many ways. You can never judge with Martin which way the wind's blowing if you know what I mean."
Loretta nodded her head a little dreamily. She sank back into her chair, idly watching the crowds of people who thronged the Champs-�lys�es. The sun was really warm, and the chatter of other peoples' voices merged with the sound of traffic moving up and down the wide boulevard. She felt lazily disembodied, almost as if she was sitting in a theatre watching a well lit stage. The bright summer dresses of the Parisian women animated the scene, and their laughter hung on the sunny mid-day air like pink bubbles. She felt relaxed. Happy to be alive on a warm summer's day, and in Paris. New York seemed like another world, in spite of the letter she had received from Nancy only that very morning. It was a long letter, and it was apparent that Nancy was missing her.
'The apartment is strangely quiet now that you've left," Nancy had written. "I long for you to return, Please come back to New York as soon as you can," she had written.
Loretta had thoughtfully folded the letter back into its envelope. The news of Prudence Chancellor's death would already be in the American newspapers, and Nancy would now be expecting her to return to New York with the rest of the company.
But she didn't wish to return-not yet anyway. Somehow she would have to explain this to Nancy. Explain it without losing her friendship, which she felt would be a real loss. One day she might need Nancy who was always so solid and reliable. But at this precise moment she didn't feel as though she needed anyone. She was self-sufficient and optimistic, sitting in the sun which bathed the city of Paris.
"What on earth are you thinking about Loretta?"
It was Joni's voice, and Loretta jerked herself out of her reveries. "I was just wishing life was always like this. Sitting in the sun with a cool drink at hand," she smiled.
"You'd soon get bored," Joni said with her usual practicality. "What do you think of the girl at the table behind you? She's wearing dark glasses and brown corduroy slacks. Don't turn around too quickly. I think she's observing us behind those glasses of hers. At least I hope so!"
After a suitable pause, Loretta glanced over her shoulder. The girl who was interesting Joni was sitting at a table with a man old enough to be her father. In face, Loretta thought, he might well be just that. There was a certain resemblance between the two. The girl was wearing very tight brown corduroy slacks with flared bottoms. A brown leather Jerkin worn over a green open neck shirt completed the girl's outfit, which suited the slim agility of her figure. She wasn't wearing make-up, and neither did she need any. Her cheeks glowed with good health, and her short curly brown hair gave her a tomboy appearance. Her eyes were hidden behind large sunglasses, and she was smiling at something her companion had just said.
Loretta turned back to Joni. "Not bad," she commented wryly.
"Not bad," Joni exploded. "Honey, that child is a knock-out."
"She's not exactly a child," Loretta remarked, feeling piqued at Joni's enthusiasm, although not quite knowing why. "I'd say she's about the same age as myself."
Joni's blue eyes opened wide. "Honey, I'd say you sound jealous!"
"Nuts! You know I don't really dig your scene," Loretta replied, reverting to the type of slang she had picked up from the bars in
Greenwich Village which she had visited in the company of Nancy.
Joni leaned forward in her chair. "Honey, from what I've observed of you there's no scene you don't dig once the cards are on the table."
Loretta felt the color mount to her cheeks. She knew that Joni was referring to what took place in Martin King's apartment in London. She was about to reply when Shane raeppeared.
"Children, it looks as though we're all going to stay in Paris. Monsieur Vilodet thinks he can find room in his film for all three of us. He's asked us all round the studio tomorrow afternoon," he said, sitting down and picking up his half empty glass of Lager.
"That's fine," Joni and Loretta chorused, although Joni wasn't looking at Shane, her eyes being still riveted on the girl with the corduroy slacks. Shane followed her gaze. He gave a low whistle.
"That sure is something," he murmured.
"Keep your black paws to yourself honey, I saw her first," Joni said in a low voice.
Shane smiled expansively. "Tell you what Joni. You're a girl who likes a gamble-I bet you a hundred francs I make the grade with Miss Sunglasses over there before you do."
Loretta, who had moved her chair so that she could look at the subject of their conversation without making it too obvious, was startled when the girl gave a hesitant smile in her direction. Joni and Shane, arguing over their bet, hadn't noticed. Still feeling piqued at the interest Joni and Shane were showing in the girl, a mischievous thought came to her mind. "Include me on the deal," she said in a decisive voice. "Whoever wins out of the three of us lifts a hundred francs from each of the other two, okay?"
Joni and Shane came out of their huddle with startled expressions on their faces. Joni opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say anything the girl in the sun glasses had risen from her chair and sauntered over to their table. She addressed herself directly to Loretta, speaking in English with a French accent.
"Excuse me, but you are Miss Loretta Larson?"
Loretta smiled up at the girl and nodded her head encouragingly.
"I thought I recognized you. I saw you dancing at the theatre two nights ago. I read your name in the program. I wish to say how sorry I am to hear about the death of your famous Prudence Chancellor. It must be very much of a shock for you."
Loretta took the girl's hand who introduced herself as Gisele d'Aston, inviting her to sit down and nave a drink.
"Thank you-I will accept," Gisele said. "But first I must say goodbye to my father, he is now about to leave."
They watched while the girl sauntered back to her table. Her companion stood up and she kissed him lightly on the cheek. She then returned while the man she said was her father paid a hovering waiter before leaving.
"Well I'll be-" Joni started to say, then stopped as the girl approached once more.
Loretta introduced Gisele to Shane and Joni. The French girl made no mention of having seen their names in the program, although as principal dancers they were written high up and in much bigger letters than Loretta's name. Loretta felt that she was already two hundred francs the richer, although she wasn't sure how far she would have to go before she earned it. She was soon to find out. One hour later she found herself sitting beside Gisele as the girl drove her tiny Fiat car. In the back sat Joni and Shane-determined to witness fair play! They had all bought bottles of wine, cheese and bread. Their destination was Fontainebleau Forest. It was Joni who had suggested a picnic in the forest, once she heard that Gisele had a car. Gisele had seemed delighted with the idea.
"It is beautiful in the forest. I have been here before," the French girl had announced, clapping her hands like an excited child.
But Loretta noticed that there was nothing childish in the way Gisele drove her small Fiat. They were soon on the outskirts of Pairs and heading for the open country, Gisele keeping her foot firmly pressed on the accelerator. She had told them that she lived in Avignon with her parents, and that she was in Paris for a few days with her father, who was here on business.
"But I know Paris very well," Gisele said nostalgically. "I was here as a student, and one day I will come here to live. But at the moment I am needed at home-my mother is very ill and I help to look after her. But when she recovers I will return to Paris, because this is where I belong."
Loretta hadn't asked the girl what she would do when she came to live in Paris. She had a feeling that the self-assured Gisele, who was indeed no older than herself, had quite a few plans for the future. Now, as they sped along with wide tree-lined road which led to Fontainebleau Forest, the French girl was asking questions about New York.
Joni answered most of Gisele's questions, leaving Loretta free to look out of the car window at the sun-drenched countryside. They had now reached the forest itself, and finally
Gisele slowed the car, turning it off the main road onto a sandy track which led directly into the forest of Fontainebleau. They churned along the track for about a half mile before they reached a wide clearing. Gisele stopped the car, and it was suddenly very quiet. The sun shone on the yellow sandy earth of the clearing, and the tall trees which surrounded them looked dark and cool. There were no other cars and no people anywhere.
"This is as far as we can take the car," Gisele said, as they all climbed out.
Collecting their hamper from the boot of the Fiat they set off on foot along a narrow winding tack. Loretta found herself in front with Gisele, while Joni and Shane followed. She could hear them giggling together like a couple of school children over some private joke. Loretta had a good idea what they were giggling about, but it only served to strengthen her determination to collect her two hundred francs!
The forest was very beautiful, and like all forests worthy of the name, it was mysterious. Joni and Shane were carrying the picnic, leaving herself and Gisele unencumbered. At one point they had to climb over the fallen trunk of an enormous tree which had fallen across the narrow path. Loretta slipped, and Gisele caught hold of her hand.
"You ought to wear the trousers like me," the French girl laughed. "And also like your friend Joni," she added.
The inference was obvious, but Loretta didn't rise to the bait. Mademoiselle Gisele d'Aston could go on guessing her relationship with Joni and Shane for a little while longer, she thought to herself. However, she kept her hand in Gisele's, and the French girl changed the subject. She chattered on about the history of Fontainebleau, progressing from there to the history of France itself.
She was remarkably erudite on the subject of her country, and was obviously very proud of being French. Her hand was warm and soft and Loretta felt it holding onto hers tightly. Actual physical contact with the French girl gave her a peculiar feeling which she always experienced with her own sex. It was a feeling of revulsion quickly followed by a feeling of excitement. Not that she had much experience to call upon, apart from Nancy-back in New York. She didn't really count Joni, because on that eventful night in London she had been too drunk to know what was really happening. Although she remembered that blasted rocking horse which Martin had in his apartment. And, she remembered the pain as Martin had taken her from the rear at the same time as Shane was screwing her from the front.
The memory of that night never failed to make Loretta's cheeks burn, although at the same time she realized that these recollections also excited her. Her only real regret was that she had drunk so much champagne. She had a feeling she would have enjoyed what had taken place even more if she had been more sober!
Gisele let go of Loretta's hand, and turned to wait for Joni and Shane to catch up with them. "Here we can have our picnic," she announced, pointing to a stretch of green grass shaded from the sun by the tall trees. It was a beautiful spot, and Shane quickly arranged cushions and spread a blanket on the grass he had taken from the car.
Joni, who had been carrying the hamper of food, sank down onto the grass with a sigh, stretching herself luxuriously. She was wearing black slacks, and a dazzling white man's shirt with a dark blue tie. As she stretched, her full breasts strained against the material of the shirt, not really designed for such pressures. The result was very provocative, as Joni knew quite well. There was no doubt that she had attracted Gisele's attention, because the girl stood quite still, looking down at Joni through her dark glasses. Shane broke the sudden tension which had built up between the three girls by announcing that he was hungry.
While they drank wine and ate cheese with hunks of crusty bread, they told Gisele of their plans to stay in Paris and make a film, while the rest of the Chancellor Company returned to America. The French girl sat cross-legged while she ate, as did Joni and Shane. Loretta, who was mini-skirted, reclined Roman fashion on the blanket. More than once she could sense Gisele's eyes behind the dark glasses running over her body, and each time it happened she felt a tingle in her spine. After they had finished eating they smoked and drank more wine in silence.
Birds sang, and occasionally there was a crackle in the undergrowth caused by some animal. It was very warm and very peaceful; After the busy streets of Paris it was a complete and very welcome change. Loretta stubbed her cigarette in the grass, and closed her eyes with a contented sigh. In two minutes flat she had fallen asleep, forgetting all about her bet with Joni and Shane, and the two hundred francs it involved.
Gisele reached out and lightly stroked Loretta's shining black hair which fell in ripples down to her shoulders. "She has gone to sleep," she murmured, a note of regret in her voice.
"It's not surprising. We've been working hard in Paris, what with a show every night and quite a few rehearsals in the afternoons.
This is the first day we've had completely to ourselves since we left New York," Joni said. She then suggested that she and Gisele went for a stroll, leaving Shane to guard the sleeping Loretta. Gisele looked up, a smile on her lips. Then she rose to her feet.
"Yes, if you like," she agreed. The smile was still on her face when ten minutes later she and Joni stopped and faced one another. They had left the sandy footpath, branching off into the depths of the forest. Where they stood there was no sunlight, and the tall trees were thick on the ground. Slowly Joni removed Gisele's sunglasses from her face.
"Now, I can really see you," she said quietly, looking into the French girl's twinkling brown eyes. She dropped the sunglasses onto the grass and moved closer to Gisele, putting her arms around her waist. The French girl had been standing with her back to a tree trunk, and now, as Joni closed her mouth over her softly smiling lips, she leaned backwards against the trunk of the tree. She made no resistance, and neither did Loretta expect any.
Although Gisele had been making all the running in Loretta's direction, there had never been any doubt in Joni's mind that there had been an understanding between herself and the French girl. If Loretta hadn't been around it would have been plain sailing. However, as things were turning out it looked as though she would be collecting a hundred francs each from Loretta and Shane! Poor Shane. It was he who had suggested the wager in the first place, and yet Gisele had hardly given him a second glance! Not that -it was the thought of the wager which was now motivating Loretta. She would have done exactly what she was doing now with no other motivation than her natural desires!
Gisele, as Joni had guessed, wasn't unprepared for what was taking place. She had been attracted towards Loretta mainly because of the girl's air of naivity-unlike Joni, who though attractive, couldn't be said to look naive.
Gisele, young though she was, had experienced quite a lot during her student days in Paris. Like many sexually experienced people, she was inclined to be attracted towards those who were still naive. Psychologically this could be explained by a subconscious desire to recapture a lost innocence. But as Joni's large sexy breasts pressed into her own pert buds, Gisele allowed all thoughts of Loretta to slip from her mind. Joni knew what she was doing, and how to do it. In the long run it was more satisfying.
Joni withdrew her lips from Gisele's responsive mouth, releasing the girl's slim waist. She glanced around her, making sure that they were alone in this part of the forest.
'Take your slacks off Gisele, I want to see you naked," she said.
Again a smile sprang to the French girl's lips, but she did what Joni had requested-slowly, deliberately, almost like a professional strip-teaser. Undoing the waist band of the tightly fitting corduroy trousers she wriggled her hips, slipping them downwards inch by inch.
Joni was surprised to notice that the girl wasn't wearing anything beneath the trousers, and watched with growing excitement as they slipped further and further downwards. Gisele had gorgeously rounded hips and a lovely skin tanned brown by the sun. A delicious mass of curly brown hair came in to view, not quite hiding the swell of her cunt.
Joni continued to watch, finding it difficult to keep her hands to herself, while Gisele climbed seductively out of the slacks, one leg at a time. She didn't take off her high heeled sandals, and when she had finished she leaned back once more against the tree trunk, her legs apart, giving Joni a good eyeful of long slim legs, and the delectable bush of brown curling hair between them. She didn't remove her leather jerkin or shirt, both of which reached just above her navel.
"Turn all around," Joni commanded in a strained voice, her throat feeling dry.
Again Gisele did as she was told, presenting a plump pair of lovely shaped buttocks for Joni's inspection. Joni now moved towards the half naked girl, no longer able to resist touching her. She put one hand onto Gisele's stomach, and the other on the small of her back. Gently but firmly she pushed downwards with both hands, the left one closing greedily over the girl's pussy, while the right one caressed the waiting pair of lovely ass cheeks before finally sliding inside the warm crevice. Gisele turned her face sideways, and once more their lips met.
The French girl, who still had her legs apart, trembled as Joni's hands caressed her pussy, rubbing smoothly up and down the channel of her ass cheeks at the same time. She then moaned as Joni's busy fingers pushed down the slit of her cunt and edged their way inside her sex-hole, parting the warmly wet lips of her twat. But Joni didn't stop there. Having the two fingers of her left hand well inside the girl's smoothly wet front orifice, she now forced a finger of her right hand into the tight hole of Gisele's ass.
Gisele took her mouth away from Joni's pressing her forehead against the tree trunk. The insertion of Joni's digits up her front and rear holes had made the strength leave her legs. When Joni commenced to play with her erect clitty she nearly swooned to the ground. Breathing hard and swallowing to lubricate her dry throat, Gisele shuddered once, and with another strangled groan she flooded out her sap onto Joni's tormenting fingers.
Although Joni hadn't wanted Gisele to release her juices so quickly, she was too late to prevent it. She felt the girl's twat lips opening on her probing fingers, followed by a great shudder which ran through the girl's body. But before she could withdraw her digits from the open hole of Gisele's pussy, the girl was releasing her spunk in a long, shaking, shuddering orgasm, and her fingers were suddenly covered with the stuff.
It was so exciting that Joni, who had been rubbing herself against the French girl's thigh as she had masturbated her, nearly released some of her own sap. But not quite! She didn't want to waste it inside her trousers. So, while Gisele continued to stand with her forehead pressed against the tree trunk, her body still shaking as the result of her uncontrollable orgasm, Joni began to strip off her own trousers and the panties she was wearing beneath them. She was wearing a thick leather belt to keep up her slacks, and this she now pulled free from the trouser loops.
Without hesitating she swung the belt in the air and brought it down hard on Gisele's lovely bare bottom. Gisele gave a yelp of pain and surprise, and this time her legs did sag, so that her dribbling pussy was pressing against the trunk of the tree. But she didn't slip to the ground, and neither did she try and run away. Joni had counted on her not trying to run away. Again she lifted the belt, bringing it down with force. The whacking noise of the black leather meeting Gisele's quivering flesh echoed throughout the forest.
Gisele, clinging onto the tree trunk, experienced a smarting pain on her ass as Joni repeatedly swung the leather belt. At each blow she cried out in pain, but she didn't try to escape. She had a friend in Paris who sometimes liked to do this to her, and she knew that after the pain would come pleasure. In fact the acute tingling, burning, sensation on her buttocks, was already transmitting pleasurable tensions to the region of her sexual organs.
While she shivered and moaned, she was also rubbing her wet fanny against the rough bark of the tree. At every passing second she rubbed herself harder, rising excitement making her oblivious to the danger of damaging her pussy on the rough wood of the tree trunk. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! The blows continued to rain on Gisele's flaming red ass cheeks faster and faster, and all the while she was rubbing her newly excited cunt up and down the rough wood. Finally Joni stopped, panting from her exertions. Dropping the leather belt she pulled Gisele away from the tree trunk and pushed her onto the grass.
"You sexy little bitch," she gasped. "You enjoyed that didn't you." Without waiting for a reply she pulled Gisele's leather jerkin roughly over her head, and practically tore open the green shirt-blouse she was wearing. She then set to work on the girl's bra, which she had off in no time. Gisele lay on her back in the grass, naked and surrounded by her scattered clothes. She was feeling thankful for the cool grass on her burning buttocks! While she lay there Joni quickly removed the rest of her own clothes, flinging them carelessly onto the ground.
She had a superb body, and she knew it. She wasn't so slim as Gisele, who was built more like Loretta, but Joni's curves were beautifully molded, and she possessed the elasticity of someone in perfect physical training. As a dancer she had to be. She posed briefly in front of Gisele's admiring eyes, then she came down on top of the girl, kissing her passionately, rubbing her own cunt well into the girl's crotch. She made sure that their pubic hairs were in close contact, intertwined, pussy lips pressing hard against wet pussy lips--
Gisele, the sexual urge running through her body as strongly as ever, in spite of the fact that she had come here a lot once, pushed Joni's mouth away, struggling to get her hands on Joni's big bouncy melons.
Joni helped her by supporting her weight on her elbows and raising her body slightly. She was still caressing Gisele's fanny with her own, and she let out a long "Oooh!" as the French girl caught hold of both her titties, squeezing them hard in capable expert hands. Gisele continued to do this for a little while, working Joni up to a feverish pitch, and making her teats go a deep red and stand up hard and straight under her fingers. Finally she pushed one of the milky buds into her mouth, chewing hungrily on one of the inflamed teats.
But Joni couldn't take any more. Dragging her teat from between Gisele's sharp teeth, she quickly reversed her position so that she was crouched astride the French girl's head in the sixty-nine position. She squatted tow, pushing her open-lipped twat onto the girl's face, and at the same time she dipped her head between Gisele's legs, her greedy tongue going into action almost immediately into the aromatic entrance to the girl's sexual channel. Gisele, meanwhile, reached up with both hands, parting Joni's gash so that she was looking straight up into the splayed pink orifice. As Gisele's tongue came into play Joni crouched lower. She felt the French girl's tongue rub into her sex, licking deep into the silky purse, .titillating the protuberance of her clitty at each licking thrust.
Both girl's were now completely immersed in their lesbian activities, oblivious to time and place. Alternatively licking and sucking each other's cunt, they were lost in the passions of an impending orgiastic climax. They presented an incredible sight, lying in the shade of the great trees, clothes strewn haphazardly about them. Joni's ass tuck up into the air, her blonde head buried into Gisele's legs rose into the air. Joni closed her mouth over the girl's gaping sex hole, sucking hard. The result was that her mouth was suddenly filled with juice. Simultaneously Joni's own lips pushed downwards, squashing her ejaculating pussy hard onto Gisele's mouth, who sucked until she was choking on the juices which ran into the back of her throat.
CHAPTER SIX
It was Loretta's birthday. She was twenty, and it was the day she fell in love or thought she had. But whether it could be called love or not, there was no doubt that Loretta acquired a wild passion for Ulrich Weil, a young student revolutionary from Berlin. Whether Ulrich came from West or East Berlin Loretta never managed to find out. Her love affair with the handsome blond Ulrich only lasted a week when it ended in disaster. At least Loretta thought it was disastrous, although it taught her a lesson which she never forgot. So perhaps it wasn't so disastruous....
Loretta's affair of the heart began in the streets of Paris. A romantic enough setting one would think, except that it wasn't like that at all.
For two weeks she, Joni, and Shane, had been working at film studios in the Grenelle area of Paris. Gabriel Viuodet, who was directing the low budget film, had driven everyone hard-he had neither the time nor the money to do otherwise. Every day Loretta, Joni, and Shane, had arrived at the studios not later than seven a.m., and they rarely got away before six p.m.
The last day's shooting had coincided with Loretta's birthday, and it was also the day they got paid for their endeavors. They had decided that night to celebrate, and they discussed what form their celebration should take as they sat in a taxi on the way back from the studio to their hotel. They had moved from the right bank hotel where they had stayed with the Prudence Chancellor Company, to a much cheaper one on the left bank. Usually they traveled by metro, but tonight was different. The film was finished, and they had also been paid.
'Thank God that's over," Joni remarked, stretching her legs as much as she could in the back of the taxi. "I feel like a pack mule after ten years hard labor."
That's nothing to what you'll feel like tomorrow morning I've no doubt," Shane said caustically.
Loretta giggled. She knew that Shane was referring to the fact that Gisele was due back in Paris this very evening. The French girl had returned to Avignon with her father, but she and Joni had kept up a hectic correspondence. The result of all this letter writing had been that Gisele was due to make another appearance in Paris. Joni had booked a room for her at their hotel.
"Well, if either of you would like to wager another hundred francs each-"
Loretta gave the indignant Joni a dig in the ribs. "Oh come off it. I wasn't really interested in Gisele. I couldn't have been, or I wouldn't have dropped off to sleep the way I did. But it was so peaceful in the forest that day."
"I bet it wasn't so peaceful in whatever part of the forest Joni and Gisele ended up," Shane said with a wicked grin.
"Shane, shut up. Gisele is a very nice girl," Joni replied.
"I never said she wasn't. In fact I look forward to renewing her acquaintance. I might win that hundred francs back from you yet," Shane said provocatively.
Joni rose to the bait. "If you touch that girl I'll scratch your eyes out. Honest!"
Loretta and Shane laughed at the expression on Joni's face, and eventually she relaxed as well, joining in their laughter. "Poor Gisele. She didn't know that all three of us were after her that day. Not that you ever stood much of a chance Shane, she doesn't like men," Loretta said.
The taxi, which had been bowling happily along the Boulevard Saint Michel started to slow down, then it stopped altogether. "Trouble," the driver growled.
"What did he say?" Joni asked, who hadn't progressed too well with French as spoken in Paris.
Loretta, who had understood what the driver said, rolled down the car window. The road ahead was blocked with a mass of people, and as they watched a cordon of police, swinging batons, swept into the crowd which started to retreat towards the halted traffic. Within seconds they were surrounded by a screaming jostling crowd of predominantly young men, forced backwards into the stationary traffic by the baton-swinging gendarmes. The taxi driver, frightened that his vehicle might get damaged, leapt out in an effort to protect it. But his efforts were in vain. The baton of an over zealous gendarme struck the rear window, smashing it into smithereens.
"Quick, let's get out of here. They'll turn the car over next," Shane yelled, throwing open one of the doors.
They all scrambled out of the taxi, and that was the last Loretta saw of her companions for some time. As she got out of the car into the roadway, the crowd suddenly surged forward again, this time forcing the gendarmes to retreat. She went with them, unable to stop herself. She tripped and fell to the ground, and if a strong arm hadn't swept her to her feet she would have been trampled underfoot. Her savior was a tall, well built blonde youth, with eyes as big and as blue as Joni's. He was shouting something to her in French, but she couldn't understand and shook her head hopelessly.
The gendarmes, having reformed their ranks, charged again. Once more they were all swept backwards, but by now some of the mob had looted a nearby pavement cafe, snatching up chairs and tables. These they were using to retaliate against the batons of the gendarmes, and the situation was getting ugly. Loretta received a glancing blow on the head from a flying bottle, but she didn't let go of the blond boy's arm. From somewhere he had picked up what looked like the leg of a table which he waved wildly above his head. The last thing she remembered was a gendarme charging straight at them. His baton must have got her first, because stars exploded in front of her eyes and then there was nothing but a sinking blackness.
She recovered consciousness slowly, opening her eyes with an effort. She saw him immediately, the blonde youth who had caught hold of her when she slipped in the crowd. She was lying on a narrow bed and he was sitting beside her.
"What happened?" she asked in a weak voice.
The youth didn't answer, but getting up returned with a glass of water. He put his arms around her shoulder and helped her into a sitting position so that she could sip the water. When she'd finished he lowered her back onto the pillow, and stood looking down at her.
"So you're not even French," he said in English, sounding as though this didn't please him.
Loretta put her hands to her head. There was a large bump on the back of her skull, but she was beginning to feel better, and her brain was clearing.
"No, I'm American," she replied meekly.
"Just my luck. An American."
Loretta swung her legs off the bed, intending to get up, but was immediately assailed by dizziness, so quickly resumed her original position. "And what's wrong with Americans?" she asked, in what she had hoped would be a belligerent tone of voice. Unfortunately it came out in a croaky whisper.
"Imperialists," replied the youth. "Worse than the Gaulists."
"Who are you? What are you talking about? And where am I?" Loretta asked.
"Women always ask too many questions. But first of all who are you-and what are you?"
"Now who's asking too many questions? Loretta asked spiritedly.
The blonde youth smiled, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "All right. You win. My name is Ulrich Weil, I am a student from Berlin. I am helping my French student friends in their fight against bourgeois imperialism, and their Fascist police."
Loretta clapped her hands admiringly. "Bravo!" she exclaimed quite sincerely, completely captivated by this blonde German youth who had saved her, she felt sure, from certain death under the feet of the stampeding move on the boulevard Saint Michel.
"Now. Tell me about you," Ulrich commanded.
Loretta watched him wrinkle his quite delightful nose when she told him her name and that she was a dancer, and saw the astonishment on his face when she said she had no idea that student trouble was brewing in Paris.
"Don't you ever read newspapers?" he asked incredulously.
Loretta looked slightly abashed. It was true that she never bothered over much with newspapers, except to read the theatre reviews. Certainly no one at the film studios had told her anything about revolution in the streets of Paris. She decided to change the subject.
"How did I get here? And where am I anyway?" she asked.
"You're lying on the bed of my friend, Alain Meriel. We both carried you here. If we'd left you in the street the police would have taken you to a prison hospital for questioning. We are in the Rue Sait Jacques. This is an old building. My friend Alain is only a poor student from the Sorbonne. He has gone back into the streets. I have remained behind to look after you."
Loretta, who now felt sure that if she tried she could quite well stand up and walk out of the room if she so wished, decided that she didn't want to part company with the enchanting Ulrich so quickly. He was still sitting on the edge of the bed, his misty blue eyes gazing at her in a way that made her heart miss every second beat. He was wearing a khaki shirt and green corduroy trousers. His blond hair was long and untidy, and it curled on the nape of his neck.
In her usual impulsive way Loretta reached out to stroke those curls, and was even more intrigued when the German blushed. He really was very young, this self-styled revolutionary from Berlin, she thought. He was probably younger than she was, and after the last few months she had no doubt that he was also less experienced than she was. She stopped stroking his hair, and caught hold of his hand.
"I'm very grateful to you for the way you picked me up when I fell. I'd have been killed-"
His hand was very soft in her own, almost like a girl's hand, but Loretta found the physical contact with Ulrich excited her in a way that she hadn't experienced before. She had never felt excited just by touching Shane for instance. It was what he did to her that made her excited.
But somehow, the mere presence of this German boy aroused in her strong emotions that weren't all sexual. They were maternal as well. She wanted to hold him in her arms like she would a child. He was so young, so tough, and yet so very vulnerable.
But although she continued to hold Ulrich's hand, the youth made no effort to reciprocate. In fact he just looked embarrassed more than anything else.
"Don't you like me?" Loretta asked, wishing that he would at least kiss her.
"I'm not very experienced," Ulrich stammered, all the revolutionary bravado which he had displayed earlier disappearing like mist under the morning sun. "At least not with girls."
This last statement ought to have warned Loretta, but it didn't. She was so sure of her own charms, that with the over-confidence of youth she thought that Ulrich was quite simply shy. In actual fact Ulrich wasn't at all shy. It was just as he said-he hadn't had much experience with girls. Indeed he hadn't had any experience with girls, but he was beginning to wonder whether this pretty American girl wouldn't be suitable for little experimentation.
He'd always wanted to know what it was like-being in bed with a girl. But up to now he'd never found himself in the right circumstances, and he'd never made any conscious effort in that direction. Now, however, the situation was different It was all there, waiting for him. A pretty American girl who was obviously quite unaware that she was barking up the wrong tree, and had her tongue hanging out at him. He lay down by Loretta's side, while she moved over to make room for him on the narrow bed. But he still didn't do anything. If the American miss wanted him, she'd have to work for it. He didn't know what to do anyway.
As soon as Ulrich lay on the bed by her side. Loretta turned towards him, resting an arm on his chest. So he did like her after all! She was glad, because she was mad about him. Gently she began to nibble his ear, and she pressed herself close to his thigh.
She was wearing black slacks, which she always wore when traveling to and fro from the studio. She wished she was wearing a skirt. It would have been easier for Ulrich's hand to slip underneath, to stroke her, to do the sort of things that she suddenly and urgently wanted him to do. But the German youth didn't move. He lay on his back, eyes closed, a sly sort of smile on his face. Loretta tried kissing him. She pressed her own lips on his, surprised at the boy's softness and passivity. She didn't know if he was responding or not. Perhaps he liked to lie thus, being made love to. He certainly wasn't like Shane! But then it was that which had attracted her so much about Ulrich. He was different!
Ulrich found Loretta's lips pleasant. He didn't find her kisses wildly exciting, but then he hadn't expected to. It was enough that he found them pleasant-it was a start anyway. He opened his teeth, allowing Loretta's bold tongue to go inside his mouth. He could feel her breasts pushing against him underneath the high necked sweater she was wearing, and they too seemed soft. But still he didn't move, not even when Loretta's hand strayed down to the fly of his trousers. Not even when he heard his zipper being undone, followed by Loretta's hand stroking the nakedness of his prick.
Loretta, who was getting very worked up, had thrown all pretense of bashfulness to the winds. There was something about this blond German boy that made her want him more than she'd ever wanted anyone in her life so far. Perhaps it was simply his passivity and the fact that he was just lying there.
She wanted to possess him, to make him respond to her caresses. With this aim in view she undid his zipper and pushed her hand inside, thrilling to the long length of his phallus. The only trouble was it still slept! Carefully she maneuvered it out of his trousers, and while continuing to kiss Ulrich, she commenced to masturbate him at the same time.
After a very short while the member in her hand stiffened slightly. She renewed her efforts, pushing the foreskin backwards and forwards over the crown. It was now becoming very stiff, the first real throb of power running along its length. Soon she had it in full flower, and Ulrich's hips were beginning to strain upwards. She took her mouth away from the German's lips.
"Let's get undressed," she whispered.
Ulrich, now that Loretta had got his cock good and stiff, was feeling quite sexy. But he didn't think it wise to get undressed. At any moment they might hear Alain's footsteps on the landing outside, and if he was found in bed with this American girl all hell would be let loose.
"No, we haven't got time. Just take your trousers down," he whispered back.
Although Loretta wasn't sure why they hadn't had time, she did as she was told, slipping her slacks down to her knees. Next came her panties. Ulrich leaned on his elbow, looking at her pussy with frank curiosity. Tentatively he placed a finger on her slit, rubbing the digit well into the black hairs. He followed it down, probing apart the softly clinging lips, then slipped his finger inside her sex hole. Loretta fell back onto the pillows, and while Ulrich probed experimentally with his finger, watching what he was doing all the time, she once more proceeded to masturbate his tool which was now throbbing lustily in his hand.
Ulrich found himself fascinated with Loretta's wet little pussy. He pushed another finger inside, enjoying the feel of the oily smoothness of her sex channel. All the time it was getting wetter and slippery, and it wasn't long before Loretta was writhing on the bed, breathing heavily. She was masturbating him quickly now, rapidly massaging his swollen dick, and he could feel a tightness in his balls, signifying that he wasn't far from releasing his spunk.
Loretta's hips were moving up and down rapidly, and each time she pushed upwards his fingers dug deep into the wetness of her sex hole. Abruptly-Ulrich tensed his body, falling against Loretta. A spurting steam of glistening white cream shot out of his cock across her naked belly.
Loretta, once Ulrich's prick had jerked in her hand, covering her stomach with frothing spunk, rose to her own climax. The narrow bed shook and creaked as she thrashed her legs in the frenzy of her zenith. She then lay panting while Ulrich took his fingers out of her flooded hole. She watched him while he got off the bed and rummaged in a drawer, eventually producing a towel. Carefully he wiped his fingers, and then wiped his cock which was hanging out of his trousers. It was still erect, and white sperm was oozing out of the slit. When he had finished he put it back into his trousers, and zipped himself up. Then he threw her the towel.
"Better get cleaned up, then I'll take you to your hotel. Your friends will be worried about you," he said.
Loretta used the towel to wipe Ulrich's sperm off her skin, then pulled her slacks back over her hips. The German stood looking at her, amusement in his eyes.
"And what's so funny?" she demanded.
"Nothing. Nothing at all," he replied.
Loretta got off the bed, and walking over to Ulrich put her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the lips. He didn't resist, but neither did he respond, but once more the passivity of the youth only made Loretta want him the more. It was the first time that she'd met someone with Ulrich's elusiveness, and she was intrigued. She wanted him to make love to her, and the fact that he allowed her to take the initiative only made her more determined. She still thought he was the most beautiful person she'd met, and she wanted to go to bed with him. She wanted to see him naked. She wanted to possess him completely, And like a child Loretta thought she only had to ask-
Back at the hotel Joni and Shane greeted her with relief.
"Honey, we've telephoned every police station in Paris," Joni announced. "What the hell happened to you? One minute you were there, and the next thing you'd completely disappeared."
Loretta recounted her experiences, waxing lyrical on the subject of Ulrich. "He's very beautiful," she ended by saying.
"Honey he sounds dangerous," Joni told her. "A German student rampaging through the streets of Paris fighting with gendarmes isn't my idea of romantic bliss."
Loretta shrugged. "You're too cynical," she told Joni. "Anyway, whatever you say I want to see him again. He says he's staying in Paris for the time being, so why not?"
"I'm not cynical honey, just sensible," Joni replied. "He's probably on police files as a political saboteur. If you get mixed up with that lot there's no telling where you'll end up."
"All I know is that he's beautiful, and I want to see him again. I've given him the telephone number of our hotel, and he says he's going to ring me when he's got time. He and his friend are organizing another demonstration inside the Sorbonne buildings themselves. He says the students are going to try and occupy the university. He's full of plans, and it's all very exciting."
"You're nuts. You'll end up in prison," Joni said.
"So long as I'm in the same cell as Ulrich I don't care," Loretta replied. "It would be well worth it."
"When you girls have finished arguing the toss over whether one of you will be going to prison, perhaps we can get around to discussing this evening. I thought we were all going to celebrate. To start with here's your birthday present Loretta," Shane said, handing Loretta a small parcel.
Excitedly Loretta opened the package. It was Ma Griffe, an expensive perfume which was also her favorite. She thanked Shane by giving him a kiss. Joni then held out a small package. It contained a quite exquisite gold chain bracelet, which must have cost a lot of money. Loretta was surprised. None of them had that sort of money to throw around. But Loretta, looking curiously embarrassed, passed it off by saying that the bracelet had been given to her, but that she rarely wore jewelry. Loretta put the bracelet on her wrist, admiring the finely wrought links of gold. She was very pleased with the gift, and told Joni so.
"Now, Let's discuss tonight's plans," Joni said, anxious to change the subject. The bracelet was the one Martin had given her in London, and in view of what happened that night she felt that Loretta was the proper recipient of the gift. Also, it was true, she herself didn't wear jewelry very often. She could have sold the bracelet of course, and indeed had considered doing so. But the advent of Loretta's birthday made her decide to present it as a gift instead. Now, seeing the look of genuine pleasure on Loretta's face, she was glad that she hadn't sold the bracelet. Seeing Loretta hold up her arm to admire the gold chain reminded Joni of Prudence. Her arms had always been covered with bracelets. Then Joni dismissed these sad thoughts from her mind.
Tonight she was meeting Gisele, and they were all going to have dinner somewhere and drink a lot of wine. Afterwards she would bring Gisele back to the hotel. She would spend the night in Gisele's room, leaving Loretta alone in the room which they had shared since moving from their previous hotel on the right bank. Tomorrow they would discuss their immediate plans. She supposed they must all return to New York now that the film was completed. Not that she wanted to return to New York. Not with Gisele in
Paris.
They had dinner at the Bleu Rose restaurant, an exclusive and expensive place on the heights of Montmartre. There were just the four of them-Loretta, Shane, Joni, and Gisele, who looked prettier than ever. She had bounded into the hotel only about an hour ago, and after greeting them all, Joni had taken the girl to her room. There had been silence for half an hour, then they had both emerged grinning like Cheshire cats who had just been fed a bowl of cream each. Shane had winked at Loretta, a comical leer on his face which made her laugh.
The restaurant where they had chosen to have dinner was discretely lit, the light mainly coming from candles which were placed on the tables. There was a long bar at one end of the room, where people sat around drinking before sitting down to their meal. There was an air of quiet elegance and dedication to food, typical of an expensive Paris restaurant. They had a lot of wine with their meal, and towards the end they were getting very merry, having drunk numerous toasts to Loretta's birthday. They ended up by ordering coffee and brandy, by which time Gisele was leaning her head on Joni's shoulder in an open display of affection.
Not that anyone in the restaurant was likely to mind. It was full of Parisian sophisticates far too interested in their own diverse pleasures to comment on other peoples' activities. Suddenly Joni sat upright, looking across the heads of the diners towards the bar at the other end of the room.
"My God, if it isn't Martin!" she exclaimed. "Gather up your drinks children, let's go and join the great man. Millionaires are always useful company at expensive bars."
"I've never met a millionaire," Gisele giggled, the wine she had drunk giving a flush to her cheeks that entirely suited her.
"Honey, don't let the lure of gold dazzle you. Martin, I'm convinced, spends most of his life being bored. I ask you! Bored! With all that money!" Joni said as they approached the bar.
Martin was sitting on a bar stool, nursing what looked like a glass of brandy, a moody expression on his face. He turned as they approached, his gray eyes lighting up with what seemed genuine pleasure at their appearance.
They all shook hands with him, and Joni introduced Gisele. As soon as he heard it was Loretta's birthday, he led them all over to a table and ordered champagne. They all braced themselves. They would have preferred to have stuck to brandy, but it was apparent Martin was determined they celebrate with champagne. On top of what they had already drunk that evening, this was pushing things a bit far. However, there was no backing out, and they touched glasses once more, drinking the cool refreshing amber liquid of a very good champagne.
"And what are you doing in Paris?" Joni asked, setting down her glass.
"I might ask the same of you lot," Martin replied, carefully fending the subject of why he was in Paris. "I read about Prudence Chancellor's death, and presumed you'd all be back in New York by now. I was very sorry to hear about Prudence-I'd met her once or twice and I liked her. Sudden heart attack I gathered from the newspaper reports. She wasn't that old, although the sort of life she's led was probably too much for just one heart!"
Joni told Martin about the film they had been making in Paris, and he listened with interest. "What are you plans now?" he asked, when Joni had finished her narrative.
She shrugged. "Back to New York I suppose, although none of us really wants to go. We don't know what's happening with the Chancellor Company, but I doubt if it will carry on in its same form. In other words we're foot loose and imagine free so to speak." Joni put her arms protectively around Gisele's shoulders. "At least as far as work goes," she added.
Loretta was thinking of the conversation she had had with Joni at the cafe table on the Champs-�lys�es the day they met Gisele. She remembered Joni's words when she had suggested that Martin may be interested in helping them to form their own company. "He may just be interested. He's a funny sort of guy in many ways. You can never judge with Martin which way the wind's blowing if you know what I mean," Joni had told her.
"You wouldn't like to help us would you Martin?" she asked on a sudden impulse.
Martin's gray eyes became wary. "In what way could I help?" he asked, and Loretta found herself flushing under the scrutiny of his steady gaze.
"Well, we'd like to form our own company. Shane here has masses of choreographic ideas, and we could easily form a company of about twenty dancers. We met lots at the studios while we were working on the film Joni just told you about. We just need financial backing that's all," she said boldly.
There was a silence while Martin looked from one to the other, then he relaxed and picked up his glass of champagne with a smile. "Why not?" he said lightly. "You get the dancers, work out a program, and I'll get a theatre and work out the financial side of it. If you're successful I'll make some money. If you're not I shall lose some. I only hope I won't lose."
Joni's blue eyes lit up like a couple of lamps. "Martin, honey, that's terrific. If we open up in Paris we can capitalize on the fact we're ex-dancers of the Prudence Chancellor Company. Prudence's death made headlines and I'm sure if she was still around she'd be the first to agree that no publicity should go to waste. She turned to Shane. "What do you say honey?"
Martin ordered more champagne. Shane asked one of the waiters for a pencil and paper. Then they all got into a huddle, discussing the pros and cons of forming a dancing troupe. Gisele was a bit out of it all, but she didn't seem to mind. She sat back in her chair, sipping champagne, quite contented just to listen.
The fact that the sudden turn of events meant that Joni wouldn't be leaving Paris immediately pleased Gisele. The more she saw of Joni the more she liked her. And she was pleased to note that Joni's ardor hadn't dampened since they last met. On the contrary. Judging by the half hour they had spent together in the hotel bedroom before coming out to dinner, Joni's ardor had increased more than dampened. Gisele had been swept onto the bed as soon as she entered the room, only just having time to drop her luggage and take off her coat.
"Joni, Shane and Loretta are waiting for us to go out to dinner," she had protested.
"Don't worry, they'll wait. I can't!" Joni had replied.
And then all further conversation stopped while they kissed. Gisele had found herself lying underneath Joni, whose hands were all over the place while their lips met in a long searching kiss. Joni was urgent, demanding, and Gisele found herself being carried along with the passion that Joni was generating. She squeezed Joni's big titties through the material of her dress, suddenly frustrated by the bra cups which imprisoned the milky orbs. Meanwhile Joni's hand was underneath her dress, pulling her panties downwards, closing possessively over the swell of her moons veneris. She had taken her mouth away from Joni's.
"Joni, don't" she had moaned. "We'll have plenty of time later. Please-not now."
But her plea had been in vain. Joni's hand was pressing hard on her pussy, and she experienced a quivering tingle of helpless lust. She had just lain there, moaning, while Joni had deliberately worked her fingers up and down the slit of her wound. After a few minutes she was shaking helplessly, squeezing her hands over harder on Joni's bubblies. Their lips met again, and she had opened her mouth wide while Joni tongued her way inside. At the same time she had felt Joni's fingers pushing between the lips of her cunt, sliding into the orifice and tweaking her clitty into an abrupt erection.
It had all been too much, too soon, for the highly sexed Gisele. The heels of the shoes she was wearing dug deep into the bed cover. Hanging onto Joni's titties she had shuddered her way to an instant climax, covering Joni's fingers with her sap. And still Joni wanted to continue their love play. In fact, Joni wanted them both to get undressed, then and there and get into bed.
"Later Joni. Later-" Gisele had whispered, and at last Joni had rolled off the bed.
"You're right honey. We've got plenty of time. I'm letting my feelings run away with me-"
Gisele thought of three things as she listened to Joni discussing with Martin, Shane and Loretta their plans for starting their own dance company. She only listened to them with half an ear, most of her mind being occupied with thoughts of the coming night, when she and Joni would be alone and free to make love for as long as they liked. She took another drink of the champagne supplied by the generous Martin. A slight buzzing in the head warned Gisele that she was getting just a little bit drunk. But she didn't care. She didn't have to get up in the morning. And she hoped that Joni wouldn't have to get up either. She concentrated her eyes on Loretta, watching the girl's dark eyes flash with enthusiasm as she talked to Martin. She was glad now it had been Joni and not Loretta that day in Fontainebleau Forest, particularly in view of the fact that Joni had told her that Loretta was only experimenting with her own sex, and in fact preferred men. She'd met girls like Loretta before, Gisele thought to herself. They usually ended up by not knowing what they wanted, and by the time they'd made up their minds it was too late-they were old. No, Joni was a much better proposition. Joni knew what she wanted all right. Something which she, Gisele, appreciated!
It was very late by the time they had all left the restaurant. Loretta was feeling excited, and very optimistic. It seemed as though her dreams were really going to come true. With Martin's help they were going to start then-own dance company. She, Joni and Shane. It seemed too good to be true, and she felt very grateful towards Martin. From the restaurant they went by taxi to Martin's Paris apartment.
"For a last drink," Martin said.
"Do you have an apartment in every city in Europe Martin?" Loretta asked, as they all walked up the stairs of a large apartment block in the Boulevard Saint Michel.
He laughed. "Not every city my dear. Just the important ones. You see I don't like hotels. They're not private enough for my liking."
Loretta was silent, remembering what had taken place in Martin's London apartment. Going by that episode she thought she quite understood why Martin didn't consider hotels to be private enough!
For a moment she wondered if the enigmatic Martin had any plans for a repeat performance. If he had he was going to be disappointed she thought. For one thing Joni was too wrapped up in Gisele to be a willing participant in any sort of orgy. But even so, that still left herself and Shane. She glanced at the young black man, but as usual his expression gave nothing away. Shane always played everything by ear, taking what he wanted, and rejecting what he didn't. He was always quite willing to play anyone's game, so long as it suited him.
The apartment was practically identical in decor to the one Martin had in London. If anything it was larger than the one in London, but hardly any furniture filled up the vast spaces of the room they were shown into by Martin. Like the London penthouse the floors were carpeted wall-to-wall, this time in deep blue. The white walls were broken up by midnight blue drapes which hung at intervals. There were no chairs-just huge brilliantly colored cushions littering the floor. There was a bar, and after Martin had fiddled with a panel of controls set in the wall, taped music assailed their ears.
But, there was no rocking horse. Loretta was glad about that. She would never be able to look another rocking horse in the face! She accepted a glass of champagne from Martin, telling herself that it was the only one she was going to accept. As she did so, Martin commented on the bracelet which she was wearing-the one Joni had given her.
"Yes, it's a birthday present. Joni gave it to me. It was very sweet of her. I think it's beautiful," Loretta told Martin.
"A very generous present my dear," Martin said in a low voice, turning to Joni.
Joni smiled. "I had a sudden mad impulsive fit of generosity," she replied in an equally low voice, so that the others couldn't hear her. "Anyway I'm sure you don't mind."
Martin raised his eyebrows. "No I don't mind. Would you like me to buy you another one?"
Joni was just about to say that she wouldn't refuse, when she saw a gleam in Martin's eye. They were standing a little apart from the others, who were at the bar helping themselves to drinks. Martin was looking straight at Gisele who was in conference with Shane.
"No!" Joni said with a note of finality.
"A new toy?" Martin asked, still looking at Gisele.
"You could put it like that if you wish you bastard," Joni replied with a laugh. "But definitely she's not to be exhibited. You'll have to make do with Loretta tonight, if you've got any designs in that direction."
Martin smiled. "I've always got designs in that direction my dear, and I'll be delighted to make do with darling little Loretta-if I can get her in the mood that is. It was just a thought I had about your friend. She's very attractive-"
"Yes she is, and she's mine,"Joni replied.
"For how long?" Martin asked.
"For tonight, tomorrow night, and the night after. Then she returns to Avignon, untouched except by my own hand," Joni told Martin firmly, who burst into laughter.
"What's more I've just had a thought about Loretta. She thinks she's fallen in love with a German who rescued her from a mob of rampaging students in the streets earlier this evening. I don't know what happened exactly, but I gather she was knocked unconscious by a gendarme and was carried home by her Prince Charming. She may not feel like playing games this evening," she added.
"I'll open another bottle of champagne. Loretta is partial to the stuff," Martin replied, walking over to where the others were standing.
Martin didn't ask Loretta if she wanted more champagne. He simply filled everyone's glass and toasted her birthday once more. She could hardly refuse to drink it.
