They were flying at twenty thousand feet in the humming quiet of the cargo-configured Connie, all four engines purring along and the most discreet copilot in the business watching over the controls. Mike Conrad liked the set-up. They were airborne and nothing but four hours of flight and passion lay before him, or more accurately, right alongside him.
Janet Melbourne was the black-eyed, black-haired daughter of the owner of the small charter airline, and she let the captain know it every once in a while when Mike's attention seemed to be drifting toward some other female around the office or in the terminal. She had all the equipment that other girls had, and with something especially generous for Mike, an eagerness that sometimes left him exhausted.
They had hardly been airborne for more than a few minutes when she started removing her clothing, slipping out of the blouse that covered her unbrassiered firm, young breasts. She had wanted to be completely naked and ready by the time Mike finished his details in the cockpit, details that included letting Lou Kovacs, the copilot, know that they were not to be disturbed. The throbbing engines sent tiny shivers of anticipated delight through her bare ass as she sat down to take off her shoes and stockings. She squeezed her thighs together, then opened them slightly, feeling her pussy moisten in response to the humming vibrations that came through the seat. For a mad instant, she thought that she could probably come that way if she had to, but she knew that she wouldn't have to do that.
There were the stacks of cargo blankets behind the only twin seats in the plane. She turned around as if to reassure herself that they were indeed still there. They were, but they were not just blankets, being more like thick pads that were designed to protect the sometimes delicate equipment that they specialized in carrying. And especially nice, Janet thought for those runs that I make with Mike.
She was still slowly pressing her legs open and shut when Mike came down the aisle, tall, handsome, and the most virile hunk of man Janet had ever had, and she knew that would be true no matter how many men she would have. Mike, for almost a year, had been the only man to climb her frame. He was also the first one, but something deep inside her pretty head told Janet that he would by no means be the last.
"Anxious, dear?" he asked her.
"Come here, darling. I've got something for you," she whispered, opening her thighs as wide as the armrests would allow.
"Just what I've always wanted," he said, leaning and kissing her on the mouth. His hand slid up her silky bare thigh and nestled in the dark triangle between her legs. He felt her squirm as he pushed his middle finger between the wet folds of her cunt. She closed her thighs on his hands, pillowing his big paw in those strangely soft and yet firm scissors.
"Let's retire to the fun compartment," he said as he broke away from the kiss. He started back, hardly waiting for Janet, but he could hear her bare feet padding quickly behind him.
"Let me undress you," she said, standing small in front of him. He had already taken off his tie and was starting the buttons when she pushed his hands away. "Let me, darling. I like it."
Mike smiled and watched her black eyes gleam in the dim light of the cargo compartment. It was one of her favorite games, and though it took her a helluva lot longer to undress him than it would if he had done it himself, he knew that the reward was just that much more satisfying. They had four hours, at least, he thought, and let Janet continue.
She slipped off his shirt and began immediately with his belt, unzipping him and letting his trousers fall to the deck. Her hands felt cool as they slipped into the waistband of his jockey shorts and pulled his tee-shirt free. But she didn't pull it over his head. He did that, as was the usual way. Janet was more interested in kneeling down and slowly pulling down his shorts, laying his abdomen bare. Her mouth closed into his body, her tongue flicking out and leaving a layer of saliva across his belly, starting from his navel. Mike felt her hot little tongue lave him through his crotch hair, felt his cock thicken with anticipation as Janet continued her downward trek. She squatted and untied his shoes, helping him slip out of them, then pulled his trousers free until he stood over her like some great pagan god in front of his slave. Janet liked the role at times like that, and Mike knew it.
He reached down and grabbed a handful of hair, pulling Janet's smiling face ever closer and closer to his now full standing cock. "Take this, my little one," he said hoarsely, pulling her the last few inches closer until her lips, hot and moist, brushed the head of his penis. "Open wide for daddy, baby. I'm ready."
Janet felt Mike's hand let go of her hair and she opened her mouth and turned her head sideways, letting her lips and tongue dance slowly down the shaft of the first and only cock she had ever had. Her thighs clamped together as she sucked one of his balls into her mouth, gently licking it until she heard Mike moan. Her head tilted at an awkward ninety-degree angle, she opened her mouth ever wider and tried to do what she knew she could never do, take both of his balls into her mouth at the same time.
She could hear his deep breathing and moans clearly and she knew that it was time. But she wanted to lick him more and more. Her hand pulled from his buttocks and she wrapped her fingers around the thick stem of his manhood. She licked his upper thighs for an instant and then drew her tongue up and over his balls and up the hard shaft until it nestled just under the crown of his beautiful cock. She flicked it, moistened her lips, then took the hard red knob into her mouth.
Janet loved sucking almost as much as she loved to fuck, she gloried in the feel of his thickness in her mouth, sometimes nearly gagging her with its girth, but always throbbing excitingly to the tune she played with her tongue. It was joy and she knew that she was bringing fantastic pleasure to her man. Her head nodded up and down, high enough up sometimes until that throbbing head rested momentarily on her pouting lower lip, and then down far enough to nearly choke her.
Janet smiled at the thought of what she was doing, how much it would have shocked her just a short year ago had anyone ever suggested it to her. Fellatio, she thought, and she tried to speak the word slowly over the hot protuberance in her mouth. She managed a low gurgle and nearly gagged.
"Hey," Mike said softly, "let's get comfortable." He pulled himself out of her eager mouth and sat down on the mats, spreading his long hairy legs wide as Janet scrambled between them. Once again her mouth covered his cock, eagerly taking it down and swirling it slowly as her head came up. "Janet, baby, it's coming."
Now, now, she thought. How delicious, how fulfilling, she thought, sucking just a trifle harder on his fleshy pole until she felt his body stiffen. Now, she wanted to cry, and it came. His semen shot into the back of her throat, filling her mouth, seemingly puffing her cheeks with its quantities, but she gladly swallowed and swallowed until she felt his body relax. She sucked hard again and felt Mike quiver as his hands on head gently pulled her up.
She left a stream of saliva and come sliding down his softening shaft, but she licked her lips and smiled at him as she climbed over his body. He held her tightly for a few minutes as he knew she liked to be held, his knee pressed against her damp crotch. When he felt his body sufficiently recovered, he rolled her over onto her back and spread her legs wide.
His mouth found hers and he ignored the idea that he was tasting himself on her. So what? Her mouth was damp and felt hot and puffy as no doubt it was just then. Mike shoved his tongue into that damp cavern and felt Janet respond by sucking on it as she had sucked his cock, slow and soft, finishing with a flourish of her tongue against his. He backed away from her mouth and settled his lips on the crook of her neck, feeling her squirm with delight. It was her favorite tickle spot, she had told him, but she couldn't take more than a minute of it.
He heard her moan louder as her hands pushed his head down to her breast. Such beautiful boobs, Mike thought, firmly upright and unblemished from any angle. He swirled his tongue over one, zeroing in on the nipple after a lengthy tour of the soft mound of hot flesh. He sucked the nipple into his mouth, holding it firmly between his teeth until her cry of pleasure-pain told him that it was time to repeat the action with the other one.
Her nipples hard and reddened by Mike's attack, Janet pushed down on his head and spread her legs wider, bringing her thighs up until her steaming cunt was just below his eager lips. Mike's fingers deftly spread her damp furry lips until the whole of her pink cunt was glistening in anticipation. He looked at it for a full minute before lowering his mouth onto her little bud of passion. As soon as his lips closed over it Janet tried to close her thighs around his head, but his hands held her firmly spread, vulnerable and maddeningly exciting. When his tongue twirled around the tiny nub, she heaved her hips higher, mashing his face into her crotch. Mike held her legs tightly, squeezing the soft backs of her thighs almost cruelly as he lashed his tongue up and down her wet crease.
He continued his onslaught for nearly fifteen minutes before Janet cried weakly that she had enough, letting him know by twisting suddenly out of his grasp and clamping her thighs together. It was better at that moment than the damned vibrating plane seat.
"Fuck me, darling," she whispered when she had regained her breath. It was an unnecessary request. Mike was already opening her legs and kneeling between them, his cock risen hard to the occasion. It would be a long and delicious piece, he mused as he sunk his cock into her soggy wet but tight love pot.
She clamped her mouth on his shoulder as he shoved the full length of his penis into her body, held it there as she adjusted her lips to his movements, then slowly withdrew. In and out, he plunged slowly for a few minutes and then wondered how many strokes it would take before she came again. He counted. Stroke in and slowly out of her wet pussy was one stroke, a full count, he thought, and slowly down, down with his heavy cock until he felt it touch bottom and just as slowly up for count two.
She took twenty meaningful strokes before she clamped her legs tightly around his waist and began that familiar convulsion of orgasm. Mike had stopped on the downbeat of stroke twenty-one, but he was far from finished and growing closer and closer to his own orgasm. Her vaginal walls seemed to be pulsating around the entire length of his cock, but he would need more than that to get himself off.
"Roll over, baby," Mike said when she ceased her delightful shuddering. He heard umming and aahing as he eased out of her sopping wet hole. She did as she was told, rolling over onto her stomach and scooting her knees up. Mike adjusted himself behind her, placing his big hands on her hips, holding her steady for the next phase of his lovemaking. First he dipped his cockhead into the wet folds of her cunt and drew it up slowly, leaving a trail of lubricating moisture from her cunt to her rectum and then he pushed the thick knob into her small puckered hole. She had relaxed enough for him to make the entry before she cried out.
"Oh, God, Mike, no," she hollered and moved forward, letting his knob pop out of her with a distinct noise. "Please, not there. I couldn't. You're too big. You're too big."
"Relax, honey," he said soothingly. "I just miscalculated. Come on, nice and easy." He sweet-talked her into resuming her position and vowed that this time he would not miss. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her love handles and his cock found its own way to the tight little entrance of her ass. "Easy, honey. I won't hurt you any more than I hurt you the first time the other way. You've got to try it."
"Please, Mike. I don't think I can," she said, but knowing that she would try this newest way with him as, indeed, she would try anything. And she remembered the first time he took her. He had been gentle as he was being gentle now and he had not hurt her very much. She relaxed for the necessary moment to allow his cock to enter. It was a shock, but she didn't feel too much pain, none, in fact, just a kind of thickness and stuffiness. He held her hips in place and slowly eased more of his immensity into her backside, but slowly, for with each inch he pushed forward, she would freeze, tightening her sphincter around his cock until he thought that she was going to strangle it. Perhaps, he thought, it was not a good idea and was almost ready to retreat when she would relax again and his need pushed him another inch into her. It went on like this for ten minutes.
Tears ran down Janet's face, but the compartment was too dark for Mike to have seen. It was painful, she knew, but not nearly as bad as the thought of it had been. She felt his full firm cock lodged up her ass and the full weight of his body pressing down on her upturned buttocks. He was holding himself there, hardly moving at all, but sending sensations that she had never felt before racing through her body with just the pulsations of his penis. Gradually the feeling of pain evaporated as something akin to pleasure began to seep into her whole being. Was it possible? Yes, she realized, it was possible, and she was feeling pleasure at the slowly inching thrusts Mike had begun to make.
And then it hit her hard; a deep quivering orgasm that ran from her tonsils down to the tip of her clit and it was all because of Mike's enormity stuffed up her ass. "Oh, yes, Mike. Oh, yes. Shove it in. Shove it in." She wriggled back to meet his attack and nearly lost her breath each time he slammed his long thick meat in and out of that most private of holes. She was loving each stroke even as her mind was telling her that this was not the nicest of ways to make love, but it felt so good, and even better when she felt that nether channel fill with his hot juices.
"Oh, God, Mike. I feel like I'm so wide open I won't be able to control myself."
He laughed. "There's no danger of that. See how everything can be a vital part of lovemaking?"
"What? Don't try to justify anything to me. You sound like a fucking textbook. Just enjoy, enjoy, right?" She rolled over, put her arms around him, and kissed him on the mouth. "Now I feel that everything, and I do mean everything, is yours. All of me. But let's clean up."
Mike nodded and followed her to the head. Even though the plane had been converted for cargo, the head had not been removed. They soaped and rinsed each other as well as they could from the small sink and dried each other with a great supply of paper towels. By the time they were dressed, it was almost time for landing. Mike kissed her as she was about to put on her lipstick and went forward where he got a lewd grin from Kovacs.
CHAPTER ONE
"Captain Conrad, do you realize in that two-by-four brain of yours just exactly who Janet Milbourne is? Damn, man, she's the daughter, and the only goddamn daughter, I might add, of our own sweet chairman of the board. Now, in case you don't know what that means to your own position, let me refresh your memory.
"Harry Milbourne is a financier. He is not a pilot. He has never in his fifty-six years even been in an airplane. And as for hot shots like yourself . . . well, just be thankful he doesn't know you're-or you were-a hot-shot flyer. He hates air people. Can you understand that? He's old railroad himself. He's got no use for 'flivver flyers trying to make like crows.' "
"Crap, O'Keefe. I've been an asset to this line ever since Korea. Sorry, I don't exactly dig Mr.
Milbourne, but what his daughter wants to do is all right with me. And if she wants to play games in the cabin, well, just what in hell were auto pilots made for? So if that's all you have to say to me, I'll be checking out. I'm flying to Miami tonight. That is, of course, if I still have a job?"
Samuel Thomas O'Keefe, slightly balding, but with enough of his own steel-gray hair left to give him the appearance of an old Prussian admiral, tongued his cigar to the other side of his mouth and gave an audible sigh. He reached for his horn-rimmed glasses and shoved them on, a signal both he and the man he was speaking to knew to be his, Sam's, final word about the situation.
With just the trace of a smile, Mike Conrad nodded, saluted in military fashion, and got up from the leather chair he had come to regard as the "negative G" seat. Negative to him, because he had never been invited to sit there unless Sam had some real or imagined squawk against the airline's number one pilot and maverick.
Closing the door to Sam's office, Mike caught the eye of the bosomy receptionist who guarded Sam's inner sanctum. She put on her best sexpot grin and raised her eyebrows. In answer to her unspoken question, Mike made a gesture of moistening his fingertips and applying them to his seat, making a "ssst" noise as though he were still burning.
"Did daddy spank the naughty boy?"
"Only with the flat of his barbed tongue, my love. He couldn't find his cat-o'-nine-tails. No matter, my dear, tonight I fly to the balmy coast of Florida, there to bask under a sub-tropic sun. Would you like to come along? I can show you how to make love among the jellyfish while sipping Cannibal Joe's heady rum drinks."
"Thanks for the invitation, lover, but I'm moonlighting tonight. I'm preparing for an early retirement."
Laughing, Mike left the receptionist's office and walked with the loping gait that had become his trademark. Outside the office that comprised the headquarters and reception area of O'Keefe Charter Air, Inc., Mike dropped the flippant attitude he had only moments before. He walked not slowly, down the corridor, but no one could have said he was hurrying. In the way of thinking that was Mike Conrad's, the hurrying man got nowhere. Not that Mike was careful. He was far from that, but his pace was that of someone completely at peace with himself. Mike was not that either.
Nodding here and there to acquaintances he passed in the corridor, Mike was friendly enough. But it was the sound of his footsteps down that long, antiseptically bare hall to the operations office, that brought other memories to his mind, keeping him just that bare degree outside the camaraderie of the terminal building corridor. Not other memories, as such, just one.
A cold morning in an unpronounceable place in Korea. That was the memory of all halls in terminal buildings. But Mike linked them all to each other. Each of those many corridors, in fact, held for him the same kind of gut-binding ... fear?
It was without fear, however, that on the morning of April 3, 1952, one Second Lieutenant Michael Conrad (no middle initial), age twenty-three years, attached to a Marine helicopter rescue squadron for purposes of "penetrating the enemy lines and gaining thereby certain photographic evidence of said enemy's movements and destroying any available enemy targets," had walked down another long corridor to another operations room. It wasn't an "office" in that muddy Korean field, but a "shack," and it was just minimally that.
Rain had fallen in sodden clumps. It had not been the gentle splashes of spring rains on the prairies where he grew to manhood, but lumps which grew into great blotches of thick muddy water on the ground. And the cold. He remembered the cold, and despite the heat of the southern California sun shining outside, he shuddered, recalling all too vividly the nights and dawns and days and nights again, where his socks rotted with the dew of his body and his fear.
He had been with the "gyrene" chopper boys for a little less than a month. In that short time he had grown to admire them. He was a fighter pilot He had a monster of an F-86 complete with the latest in cannon, rocket, and murderous fifty. These poor kooks, he thought, have only a put-put, a lasso to pick up some otherwise even more unfortunate foot-slogger, and a helluva lot of hope that somebody wouldn't put a little birdshot through their rotors.
But they were a happy lot, and they accepted his screwy mission. It was certainly that. And he was the first Air Force pilot they had seen outside of a Tokyo bar. But they recognized him as being a bit different from the others.
He flew into a landing pattern at speeds far greater than their windmills could ever hope to achieve, and in private jokes they said he was nothing more than a guidance system in a missile.
The sky was just beginning to lighten when Mike arrived at the operations shack. It would be about as clear a day in those Korean hills as it ever was. Even before being briefed, Mike knew something big was about to happen.
"Morning, sir," he mumbled to the intelligence officer sitting at the map board.
The officer looked at Mike hard and indicated a stool beside him. "Sit," he ordered. "Lieutenant, you've pulled yourself one helluva an assignment. Knowing you as you are, fresh from the bistros of Tokyo, it's a pleasure to hand it to you."
"Sir, you've just solidified the waste products of my body. I'm happy to take anything you have. What's it to be? Strafe the Yalu? Bomb the Kremlin? Rape the invading horde?"
"Knock it off, Conrad." He turned to the maps. "You've got to make a drop of medical supplies to guerillas on the other side of the river. It should be a simple job for you and that bomb out there, but I want you to know that unless you hit the spot at exactly the right time, you'll have to go back tomorrow, and that, of course, means you won't be getting an Emily Post reception by the opposition.
"If you make contact today, it'll only take one or two passes. That way the bogies won't get much of a chance to figure out what you're doing. Here's the area. The spot will be marked."
Forty minutes later a disgruntled Conrad left the shack and headed for his plane and a short session with the mechanics.
Another milk run, he thought. With a start he remembered the supplies would be packed into one of his wing tanks. Suppose the goddamn thing doesn't release, as many of them don't? Well, Mike Conrad's would drop. He set his teeth together as if ordering fate to cooperate.
An hour later, he was alone in the sky, near silent at his speed and finally outside the regular communications channels. Ten minutes later, he nosed over and began to throttle back, searching out the landmarks for the drop. Duck soup, he thought, as he spotted the white cross about 5,000 feet below and a mile or two in front. Upping his speed a trifle, he adjusted himself for the drop. A minute more. "Now," he spoke aloud, punching the wing tank release. It worked and Mike climbed and went into a steep bank.
He watched the tank for a moment before losing it in the distance, but by the looks of all the activity on the ground, he had made almost a direct hit. The tiny people on the ground were already gathering up the white strips used for the marker. Wagging his wings like a birdman of old, he kicked in the afterburner, roared up to a safer altitude and headed for home.
Then it happened. Four MIGS were cruising above him, not having seen him yet. Did he dare? He did. Screaming practically down the exhaust of the last plane, Mike set a rocket on its destructive course. The enemy plane disintegrated just as Mike was zeroing in on the second plane.
But the other bogies were hep now. Breaking formation, they scattered. Mike held onto the second plane and sent it spinning down minus a wing with his second rocket The other two were miles away by now, he thought in their faster machines. Well, he thought, not too bad. I'll be a goddamn hero when I return, if the cameras were working.
The wing cameras, used for scoring and verification of enemy plane hits were working. Mike was congratulated. He was finally accepted by the chopper boys. He got a medal. He got drunk. He contracted a dose at the local whorehouse, but as a hero the medics cured him without making the usual report. He had a ball.
He also got sent, back to Tokyo, working for Sam O'Keefe, a reserve colonel in charge of a transport wing. In some respects, Mike hated to be out of his fighter plane, but knowing the chances of ultimate survival, Mike cheerfully starting flying transports. After he had carried his first contingent of army nurses to Korea, he would not have traded his job for a basketful of medals. Like he made out with no fewer than twenty of the young ladies, members in good standing of the "mile-high" club, a not-so-secret group whose purpose in life was to make love high above the clouds.
His CO.? Sam, of course, was quite hep to what his newest pilot was up to, but since he never was much for interfering with another's private life, he laughed it off. So long as the missions were running smoothly, and they were. They were, that is, for about a month after Mike got his first taste of mile-high amour. Then, with another load of nurses aboard, he ran into trouble.
Actually, a good many of Mike's friends said later, the trouble would have occurred anyway. But when the chief nurse, a battle-weary old crone of a major, got alarmed at one of the engines smoking, she leaped from her seat and charged into the flight compartment.
Prior to taking off, Mike had made the acquaintance of one Lucy Stokes, a charming young thing fresh from the antiseptic atmosphere of Cook County Nursing School in Chicago, one of the nation's best schools, she told him.
"How long have you been in uniform, lieutenant?" he asked the pert blonde standing nervously by the loading ramp.
"Sixteen weeks, sir," she answered in proper military fashion, and thereby acknowledging
Mike's recent promotion to first lieutenant. "And I've never been in an airplane before. Is it safe?"
"Most assuredly, my dear," said Mike, assuming as much of a Cary Grant air as he could. "This particular plane, in fact, is one of the safest ever built. Did you know that General MacArthur himself would never fly in any other? Did you know that all the brass spend millions of the taxpayers' dollars trying to figure out ways to get this plane and its pilots to carry them? It's a fact."
"You're kidding. You mean General MacArthur himself flies in this plane? Wow, I'm sure the pilot must be a terrific flyer. Do you know him?"
It was the candid way she looked at him that made Mike slightly ashamed of putting her on. MacArthur, of course, had a plane, but it was a far cry from this strictly business transport. And the little lady would soon find out. Top brass like Mac just don't fly around in anything, and certainly not with First Lieutenant Michael Conrad at the controls. He smiled at her.
"Well, he used to fly in it. By the way, what's your name? Mine's Mike, and I'm the pilot of this heap."
"Glad to know you, sir, ... I mean Mike. I am Second Lieutenant Lucy Stokes, en route to a hospital in Pusan. Is there much fighting around there V
"Ah, Lucy. What a delightful name!" He was looking directly into her eyes as he spoke, but while she was talking he had visually checked out her measurements which, even through the immaculate tunic of her uniform, held tantalizing promise.
Then, with a more serious expression, he said, "Yes, Lucy, there is a lot of fighting there, but you won't have to worry about it After all, you'll be one of the few pretty gals around there, and those foot-sloggers'll really take good care of you. Don't worry about it," he laughed, seeing the consternation on her face, "the fighting's fifty miles from Pusan. Smile, that's an order."
Lucy answered with half a smile, but her eyes told him she thought it was a pretty bad joke he'd just played.
"Well, we've got to shove off now and see if those grease monkeys left anything out of the engines. See you aboard." Mike winked as he returned her salute.
About thirty minutes out of Tokyo, Mike gave the controls to his copilot and got up to stretch his legs. Grabbing a box of Dramamine from the shelf over the navigator's station, he wandered out into the passenger compartment
"All comfortable, girls? You can smoke if you like. Or, if you don't feel too well, I have some up-chuck preventatives. Dramamine, anyone?"
A few of the nurses, looking green, waved at him weakly, and Mike began dispensing the pills. "Major?" he inquired, offering the senior nurse the bottle.
"No, thank you, lieutenant" she answered in a monotone, and returned to her contemplation of the wing without another word to Mike.
He looked up and down the aisle, catching sight of Lucy looking enthralled with whatever it was outside her window. Mike walked down the aisle to where she was sitting.
"Hi, how's the view?" he asked.
"Just beautiful! Look at all those clouds!" she exclaimed.
"You wouldn't care for some Dramamine, would you?"
"Dramamine?" she asked, turning those big blue eyes to him, "who's sick?"
"Obviously, not you. Which is fine. The trip takes a few hours. Would you like to see the flight controls?!'
"Oh, I'd love to. It's not against regulations, is it?"
"Of course not. We men of the wild blue yonder love to show off our mechanical prowess by taking pretty girls up to the controls. Come with me, miss," he said, taking her hand.
Lucy struggled to rise, but the seat belt was still fastened. Since Mike was still holding one hand, she tried to release the safety belt with her free hand, but fumbled.
"Here, let me help you."
Kneeling down next to her, he caught the tingling scent of her perfume. It was a pleasant odor compared to the rest of the aromas of the airplane.
Reaching over her lap, Mike fumbled with the buckle, an unnecessary maneuver since the buckle had been designed to slip off instantly. The busy pressing of his fingers into her belly resulted in a quietly spoken admonishment from Lucy.
"Is the buckle really stuck, lieutenant, or have you found something else more interesting to do?"
Mike smiled up at her. "It's certainly more interesting," he answered unabashed as he released the catch.
As she stood up, she swayed slightly, brushing her breasts against his chest. He steadied her by holding her tightly against him with one arm and leaning with his free arm on the seat.
Realizing the impact of the gesture on the other passengers, Mike looked furtively around, but no one was looking back at them. Each traveler was engrossed in that nothingness people on long trips seem to busy themselves with. Some were reading. Some made small talk with their neighbors, but most of them were trying to catch up with their sleep before arriving in what they knew would be a damned sleepless place.
Satisfied that all were busy elsewhere, Mike kissed Lucy full on her slightly open mouth. She didn't pull back immediately, and Mike let his hand slide down her back to the soft curve of her buttocks. Only then did she pull away.
"Now, now, lieutenant," she chided, and she turned and preceded him down the aisle.
Mike followed Lucy to the flight control compartment, opening the hatch for her. They entered the after section where the crew ate their meals and took their coffee breaks. On long flights, a small cot had been provided for the necessary naps.
Looking directly at the cot, Lucy commented, "Cozy. Do you actually sleep on the job?"
"That's for long flights. Care for some coffee?"
"Sure."
Lucy sat down on the cot while Mike poured two cups of coffee from the thermos provided by the ground crew. She opened her purse and took out a cigarette, waiting for Mike to light it for her.
For several moments they said nothing, sitting side by side, immersed in self-thoughts. For Mike, his only thoughts concerned the immediacy of the situation. He looked at Lucy quickly and was surprised to see her looking at him.
"I won't give you a cent for your thoughts, Mike." Her paraphrasing of the clich� brought an embarrassed grin to his face. "Don't say it," she cautioned, as he opened his mouth to speak.
She finished her coffee, put the cigarette out in the bottom of the cup, and handed it to Mike, who turned and threw both cups into the waste container. When he turned back to Lucy, she had unbuttoned her tunic and was removing it.
He was shaken.
"My friend, I've been around too many panting interns not to recognize the symptoms."
"It's a passing affliction," he said taking her into his arms and kissing her.
This time she responded by sucking his tongue into her mouth. A few moments passed and Mike realized he had better clue the boys in front. He got up with difficulty. "Just a minute," he said. Slipping his head through the forward door, he advised his copilot and navigator to "keep it flying. I'm about to initiate a new member of the mile-high club."
The copilot, a childish year younger than Mike, grinned from ear to ear and made a comment which was lost as Mike pulled the hatch to and returned to Lucy.
She had taken off her tunic and brassiere, and the skirt she so adequately filled was at her feet. Only her garter belt, stockings, and panties remained.
Mike pressed his face against her full, firm breasts, cupping them in his hands and running his tongue over their tawny pink tips. Small sighs escaped from her lips at those moments when Mike's tongue touched the now hard nipples.
It is not given to many men, Mike thought, to complete all the preliminaries within a few hours, but here he was. What luck. He clutched the filmy stuff of her garter belt and panties, pushing them down until the soft mound above her long sleek thighs peeked up at him.
She arched her back when he planted a wet kiss on her firm stomach. "Hurry," she whispered. And he did. Quickly he shed his trousers, fumbling with his flight boots, but leaving his socks on. She didn't wait for him to get completely down on her before her long legs grabbed him and pulled him onto her.
Mike crushed his mouth against hers as she groped feverishly for his manhood and guided it home. Her legs locked around his hips, and then, as she caught the rhythm of his movements, they climbed higher up his back until her knees were almost over his shoulders. Even through the urgency of his physical needs, Mike felt the position to be somewhat bizarre and he almost started laughing. But Lucy's hips curved under him and he swept down into the moist demands of her body.
Lucy's fingers entwined themselves into the hair at the back of his head, pulling his face down to her tingling nipples. Wow! she thought, but this is the best yet. With every stroke of the man on top of her, she wanted to cry out in pleasure. And then it hit her that it was the drumming vibration of the big plane's engines that sent that extra shiver of delight through her body. Her insides grabbed at him and held him for a long delicious minute, then her heels were digging deep into his back, and it was over.
Mike collapsed against her, his breathing labored, his heart pounding. Whee! he thought, this attitude, really gets to you.
There were small amounts of pleasure still left in Lucy's body, and she wiggled her pelvis hard against Mike in order to satisfy every tingling nerve end. He finally pressed his weight down upon her fully to make her stop.
For a long time, they said nothing. There was nothing to say, of course. Still, he did not get up, and Lucy could feel the vibrations of the plane's engines throbbing softly through the cot and against the soft, still tingling flesh of her buttocks. She was about to lock herself around him again when he rose from her and sat on the edge of the cot.
"Lucy, darling," he whispered when he finally caught his breath, "you have made this war altogether the most sweet, enjoyable affair of my short, happy life. Where in blazes did you learn all that?"
"My secret, lieutenant, but I'm not through with you yet." She sat up and leaned over him. "Let me do some of the work now," she whispered and, pushing him back, she created a symphony of novel sensations through Mike's body with her pouting mouth and darting tongue.
Mike lay back for a few moments, enjoying her ministrations, then, shaking his head, he made it plain he had had it for the day.
They both began to dress. Mike slipped quickly into his clothes, but Lucy, her body still throbbing with her refreshed passion, was slower, and finally, her brassiere and tunic still on the cot beside her, she looked up at him reproachfully.
At this moment, this very precise, exact moment, the number four engine began to lose oil pressure, but unknown to the copilot, who at the time was more interested in catching a sound or two from the after section. The oil, of course, was escaping through a broken line, a not too uncommon occurrence. Having left the confines of its little pipe, it sprayed itself against the giant engine. Said engine, being quite hot, ignited the oil. That is, it made it smoke like hell, whereupon, the major of the nurse corps leaped to her feet and headed for the door of the after section.
Innocent of the impending disaster about to befall them, Mike was busily trying to put out Lucky's rekindled fires. Fortunately, Mike was dressed. He had managed to get Lucy into her tunic, though she had refused to tuck her breasts into her brassiere which she had stuck pertly into her top pocket. One of Mike's hands was cupping one of Lucy's breasts, the thumb and one finger rubbing its nipple gently, while the other hand was pressed hard against the base of her spine. Their bodies were tight against each other.
"Lieutenant!" the major screamed as she opened the door.
Mike almost snapped off Lucy's nipple, and she almost bit off his tongue.
"Lieutenant, your plane is on fire!" She glared hard at them both. "Your plane," she repeated, and slammed the door shut.
"Yeow," managed Lucy as she sank back down on the cot.
With tears in his eyes, Mike had made his way back to the controls, switching off the number four and flooding it with fire extinguisher foam. He didn't even bother to look at the copilot, whose job it was to watch the pressure gauges constantly.
"How far are we from Tokyo?" he snapped.
"About fifty minutes, sir."
"Get on the radio and tell them we're turning back. I'm going back there and check on our passengers."
Mike had expected to see the nurses in a state of controlled hysteria. Instead, they were busy trying to figure out the best positions to take at the moment of impact. None of them seemed to be upset. It must be the profession, Mike thought.
"The fire has been extinguished, ladies. We are, however, returning to Tokyo, since we're less than an hour away. Please continue to be calm. Instructions are posted on the back of the seats, and there are life belts in the compartments. Should we have to ditch the plane over the ocean, which is unlikely, we have an excellent chance of survival."
A little more than an hour later, the big plane touched down smoothly at Tokyo International Airport, amid a throng of news cameras, fire engines, ambulances, and very prominently, Sam O'Keefe, in a staff car. The reception committee, of course, had picked up Mike's "Mayday" broadcast, and all were prepared for a big crash. He very happily disappointed them.
CHAPTER TWO
Those were the days, Mike laughed to himself as he opened the door of the operations office to file -his flight plan for the Miami charter. Funny, he reflected, but that old army nurse never did say a word about the affair in any official report. But the scuttlebutt! Mike smiled to himself as he remembered the hazing he got from his fellow pilots.
"Hey, Mike!"
Turning in the direction of the voice, Mike spotted his copilot, Lou Kovacs, a one-time fullback for Northwestern and a double ace of the Marines. Lou's six-foot several inches never seemed to look too imposing when Mike met him in an office or on the field, but the man remained a constant source of admiration for him when he sat next to him in the cockpit. Lou didn't exactly sit there; the controls looked more like they had been built around him. "Hozzit, Lou?"
"Man, am I glad to see you! Did Sam get hold of you? He was raving up and down the field an hour ago."
"Just left our little old daddy. He was a bit miffed, but knowing my insuperable qualities as captain of his finest Connie . . ."
"Insufferable, is the word." Lou broke in.
". . . he fondly bade us bon voyage," Mike continued, refusing to get riled. "I don't suppose my esteemed copilot checked out with the mechanics about the hydraulic leak while he was lounging around operations?"
"First thing, mon capitan. All systems go. And, as long as there's to be no change in plans, I'd like to shove off for a few at the nearest."
"Like swoop, man. The afternoon is yours to enjoy. Just fill up the seat next to dear old me at 2145 hours. By the way, is she anybody I know?"
"Ho, ho, ho. You'll never know." Pushing his crushed cap back on his crew cut, Lou turned and began walking out of the office.
"Have fun, jolly green," said Mike, waving Lou off. Only then did Mike turn his attention to the forms in front of him. The forms were both annoying and reassuring. They took time he would have preferred spending with Janet, but, once he sat at the controls of the Connie, they were a reassuring safety device.
It was almost four-thirty when Mike finished the papers and left the operations offices.
Slipping easily behind the wheel of Janet's canary yellow Jag, he slammed the door and turned the engine on. Easing into the airport traffic, he headed for the Covered Wagon, a combination restaurant and bar with excellent food and drink, but not quite first-class motel accommodations, though the registration facilities were quite discreet.
Moving easily up the canyon roads, the Jag purred with pristine assurance around curves, responding eagerly to Mike's handling. It was fun driving a car like this. For a moment Mike imagined himself at Le Mans in one of the Jags that had finished one, two, three, in . . . when was it? Fifty-four? Fifty-five? The questions inexplicably brought Janet to mind, and Mike slowed to the posted speed.
Now why did I do that, he asked himself. Do I really have it for this chick, or is this just another of those damned phases I'm forever going through with women? Damn them, anyway. This one will have me married shortly, and am I ready for that? Or . . . nuts!
Mike brought his full attention back to the car and the traffic, pushing his questions to the back of his mind. Ten minutes later he pulled up behind the Wagon, and noticed the big Buick station wagon Janet used whenever Mike had her personal car.
"Michael, you sonoffabeech, where you go? The lady been sitting, waiting for you, for an hour. Shame on you. Next time, I take care of her myself, eh?"
"Quiet, you Macedonian refugee. You know you only like fat girls. Gimme a large glass of orange juice and a shot of bitters. I'm flying tonight, and if I start on those gin tummy warmers of yours, I won't be using a plane."
"Just one? C'mon, you don't want to hurt old Vic's feeling?"
"Sorry, Vic. Juice and two sirloins, medium rare." Mike slid into the booth beside Janet, gave her a soft, damp kiss on the lips, and murmured, "Hello, sweetheart."
Janet Milbourne raised her thick black eyelashes and looked into Mike's eyes with her own for several moments without speaking, her luminous dark eyes holding him silent as if by command.
The only child of an otherwise rich man, Janet had been working for O'Keefe Charter Airlines just to keep from being bored by not having to work, as her debutante friends had become, long before Harry Milbourne had shown any interest in the line.
His reason for entering the often tricky, unstable, and frequently near bankrupt business was simple; O'Keefe Charter was a tight company. It boasted a long list of private accounts, a competent staff, and quality, if few, aircraft. When Sam O'Keefe had gone credit hunting for additional equipment, Harry Milbourne had advanced the credits with ease.
The transaction had come as a surprise to Janet, who had been doing what she wanted to do since her fourteenth birthday. Her father had never questioned her hours, her friends, her habits, or her plans. The unintentional result being a ladylike, well educated, young woman. Until Janet had met Mike a year ago, she had also managed to remain a virgin, which was also unintentional. The "he" necessary to change this condition had not yet arrived. "He" arrived at one of those omnipresent cocktail parties for a new client, late, of course, with Lou Kovacs in tow.
"Oh, there he is," a feminine whisper behind her head caused her to look up.
"Who?" asked another voice.
"Mike Conrad, the one she was telling us about, idiot!"
Janet had grimaced over the feminine gossip and thought that either of the two men standing at the entrance of the hotel suite could have accounted for the barely audible squeal in the girl's voice. Sam unraveled the mystery by taking the shorter of the two tall men by the elbow, pronouncing him "Mike" for all to see and identify, then propelling both men over to where she and the new clients were standing.
"Mike Conrad, Lou Kovacs, I want you to meet our new clients, Herb Frazer and Gerry Jackson of Internal Florists." And then, Sam had turned to her and added, "and this m our own Janet Milbourne of Public Relations."
Both men had smiled at her and shaken her proffered hand. Both men had held her hand just a bit longer than necessary, but men usually did when they met her. To reuse an old clich�, Janet had arresting good looks, and she knew it.
"Good evening," had been her vocal response, but she was really interested in which one would look after her when she excused herself from the group and looked for another cocktail. Mike had complied, and she had given him a warm, encouraging smile.
Later, when Mike had drifted after her, they had exchanged small talk over a large number of cocktails and cigarettes.
"It's getting close in here, isn't it?" she remarked.
"I'll drink to that," he replied, swallowing his cocktail in one gulp. "How about a walk in the hall?"
"I don't think so," she said in a very negative voice. "It couldn't be any more refreshing in the hall than it is in here, but I'm sure the air along the beach would be a great improvement."
"Invigorating. Wait at the door while I rustle up some more of these," he raised his empty cocktail glass, "then we can leave."
They hadn't said another word until she brought the new Jag to a stop at a deserted stretch of the beach.
"Nice car," Mike murmured running his hand lightly over the upholstery and into her lap.
"A gift from Daddy," she purred, taking his hand and putting it on her hip.
"Oh? That's going to be a tough act to follow." He sat up from his slouch position and shook the empty cocktail shaker. "I think I drank it all."
"Is the ice still intact? If it is, I've got some bottles carefully stashed away in the trunk." Janet dangled the keys at Mike, who dutifully took them, went to the back of the car, and opened the trunk. "They're in a carrying case."
The trunk lid slammed shut, and Mike opened her door, holding the empty shaker, carrying case, and a blanket over one arm. "You certainly are well supplied, miss. My salutations to Daddy."
Janet couldn't resist the giggle. Let him think so, if he wished. She led the way to a spot hidden from the road by a steep drop closer to the water and protected from the cold night air by rocks and dunes. "Over here," she called.
Mike slid down the path she had taken and stumbled in the direction of her voice. "Hmm, it's cozy," he approved. "Does Daddy know about this?"
"Oh, Mike," she laughed. "Forget the daddy bit. I'm here, and I don't want to be ignored." And still standing, Janet began to undo the buttons of her dress.
"Hey, wait for me!" By that time, Mike had spread the blanket out and removed his shoes, but Janet's nimble fingers quickly removed all her clothing except for her panties, before he had removed his shirt.
The panties were not removed, and Mike said, "Well?"
"Well, what?" she had countered.
"Take it off, take it off," he chanted in a singsong voice.
Obligingly, Janet hooked her thumbs into the top of the panties and did a slow bump and grind, pushing the panties down from her hips with each roll. The moon served as a spotlight, accenting the full curves of her breasts and hips. As she leaned over to remove the panties, her breasts hung tantalizingly close to his face, and Mike grabbed her and pulled her down beside him, crushing her mouth with his as he did so. In self-defense, Janet went limp and Mike relaxed his hold on her.
"Pul-eeze, sir! Slowly and with feeling," she gasped.
"Sorry-" Leaning on one elbow over her, Mike casually played with one of her nipples until, her lips moist, she breathed a hot, "You're excused," into his ear.
Mike sat up and removed the rest of his clothing, but Janet didn't move. She remained on her back, seeming fully relaxed, the panties still caught about her ankles.
"Your pull-offs are still on," he reminded her.
"Take them off."
He removed them and she kept her legs as he left them, knees bent and spread apart. There was a pause, then she asked; "Are you going to talk some more?"
For an answer, he began kissing the inside of her thighs. The higher up her thighs he went, the more restless her hips became, and he finally raised himself up and into her. The resistance he found was strange and new to him, but it wasn't until he felt that final release that he realized what accounted for her unusual reaction to his lovemaking.
He sat on the blanket by her side, Indian fashion, groped for his cigarettes and lighter, and lit a cigarette, which she took from him, so he lit another.
"Who's Daddy?" he asked.
"My father."
"Why was I elected for this?" She laughed softly. "I always try to get the best."
"Thanks." Mike began dressing. "My pad is not too far, so let's get out of the cold night air."
"Fine," she grabbed her clothes and slipped into the dress, holding her shoes and underwear in her hands. "I'm ready."
It was an interesting night for both of them.
Now, as Mike sat beside Janet in the booth at the Wagon, he wondered about the inequality of their relationship. Janet, so generous in her giving, had not left enough room for him to give any more than the bounds of his body could serve. It was like eating a sumptuous meal and then getting up from the table still unsatisfied.
"Did Sam keep you after school?" she asked.
"Only a few minutes. I got hung up in operations. How's my one true love, the light of my darkness, the balm of my tortured soul?"
"The point of your tortured prose, you mean. I'm starved, and I don't mean for steak. We're eating first? It seems so like old married people."
"C'mon! I haven't eaten since eight this morning. Besides, I've already ordered."
"If the great passion in my life was so cooled, perhaps I should look elsewhere. I wonder what Vic would be like in the sack?"
"Me?" Vic said, placing the salad and drinks in front of them. "Ha, ha. My get-up-and-go; she went."
"I don't think your get-up-and-go went far, Vic," retorted Janet. "You look very capable to me."
"Now, wait a minute, you two!" protested Mike, "I'm still here, and you," he cracked Vic smartly on the arm, "get our steaks, I'm still gonna eat first."
Laughing, Vic went to pick up the rest of their dinners.
"Aren't we flying to Miami, Mike?" asked Janet.
"Sorry, baby. There's been a slight change in plans. Sam said it would be better if you took tomorrow's flight with Kovacs. He's just riding down there with me tonight to pick up the new plane there. He'll be back tomorrow night. You can fly down on Saturday's flight."
"Oh, Mike, why?"
"I guess it was your father's doing. Sam won't tell, of course, but I suppose there was some 'either-or' pressure applied."
"Dad would never do a thing like that. He hasn't interfered with anything I've done since I was fourteen. He's just not the type, Mike. You've got to understand him. I guess he's beginning to worry a little about me, but I'm sure he'd never tell Sam to make other arrangements. After all, I did work for Sam some time before Dad came into the picture. That should prove something."
"Well, maybe you're right. All I know is that Sam told me to explain his position on tonight's trip. Frankly, I don't think your going on this particular flight would be a good idea, no matter what Daddy said. It's going to be one of those convention things, a bunch of overloaded wholesalers headed for a three-night binge in sunny Miami. Though why in hell they have to go to Miami is beyond me. Guess they want to get out of town to make merry. Or is it spelled M-a-r-y?"
In the face of Janet's cold silence, Mike let the pun drift off.
"When will you be back, Mike?"
"Hey, I said you could come down with Lou Saturday."
"And you? What will you be doing for forty-eight hours? Run rampant through the coveys of bathing bunnies?"
"Well, maybe just one."
"I see." Janet toyed with her glass, then sighed.
"I guess I'll just have to make some other arrangements myself for forty-eight hours."
"That shouldn't be much of a strain," laughed Mike. "I can guarantee several eager young pilots, weathermen, radar men, clients, et cetera."
The scowl left Janet's face and she joined in his laughter.
They were still laughing when Vic came with their food. It arrived sizzling and spitting and filling the air with its appetite-tickling aroma.
Over coffee Janet said, "Mike, let's not, tonight."
"Yeah, it would be rushing it, wouldn't it? There's just a little over an hour before I have to be at the field. Hardly time to get warmed up. How about another cup of coffee? Then, we can scoot." Mike turned to Vic and signaled.
"Good idea. I'll drive back with you in the Jag to see you off. I think it's time to get it out of the repair shop."
"Your dad must think you've run your expensive toy into a nervous breakdown."
"He doesn't check on it, if that's what you mean, but he seems to know everything, anyway."
"Amen."
Neither of them spoke on the drive back to the airfield. The airport guard admitted them to the reserved parking area with a wave of his hand and they responded with something less than enthusiasm.
Pulling into the reserved space marked "Capt.
Conrad," Mike turned to Janet and said, "How about ten hot minutes of necking?"
Janet threw her arms around his neck and kissed Mike on the nose. "I don't think so. I'm not programmed for that." Besides, she thought, I'm furious with you, you lecher.
"Hey, you've given me a red nose and I haven't had a drink all day! What will the passengers think?" He reached for a tissue and wiped his nose.
"I don't think it'll harm your reputation, darling."
"Naughty, naughty, Janet. Please remove your claws."
"I guess it's my turn to say, sorry, Mike. Maybe we're just both saying the same thing, for all our small talk, but I'm not taking it too well, am I?"
"Come in and have a Coke with me before I leave," Mike got out of the car, and, after a pause, Janet shrugged and got out, slamming the car door with just a touch of anger.
They entered the terminal and walked together closely, her heels making a snappy staccato on the terrazzo floors. Near the embarkation doors, Mike stopped at an automatic dispenser and bought two Cokes, which they drank leisurely, watching the endless flow of people, standing or moving, all waiting helplessly, held captive by a timetable.
Glancing at his watch, Mike shrugged. It was twenty to seven. "Well, I guess it's time for me to shove off," he remarked.
"Goodbye, Mike."
"Goodbye, Janet. Kiss?"
She threw her arms around him, and they pressed their bodies together, their mouths molding, oblivious to the crowd of startled passengers that had ignored the other time captives until they had sprung into each other's arms.
When they finally broke, the crowd clapped their approval, and both Mike and Janet made bows to the audience. Then Janet turned and walked briskly out to her car, and Mike walked out onto the field.
At nine-thirty the big Connie was warmed up. The load of sightseeing wholesalers were safely belted into their seats, and they busied themselves by passing a couple of bottles back and forth. It was a happy group, slightly smashed out of their respective skulls from the effects of an hour's wait in the terminal's bar, but good-natured and cooperative with the new stewardess, who so far had put up with their loud jokes with smiling good humor.
"Hey, honey," called one of the more gregarious ones, "how 'bout a little drink?"
"Thank you, but later, please. I've got to do a lot of things before we get to Miami." It was her stock answer. She intended to do no drinking on the flight.
"Your attention, please," Mike called over the PA system. "This is your captain, Mike Conrad. We'll be taking off as soon as we get clearance from the tower. Make sure your seats belts are fastened and no smoking, please. After we're aloft, I'll come back and introduce myself to you personally. I hope you enjoy your flight."
"I thought that was your job, honey," a gregarious one called to the stewardess.
"Oh, I've got a sore throat," she replied, smiling.
Mike received the takeoff word from the tower and taxied the plane out to the end of the runway. "Well, Lou, looks like a nice moist flight. How's the date?"
"Like, there wasn't time. She wanted the whole dinner-dance-drink routine before even getting cozy," sighed Lou.
"You sure pick 'em," smiled Mike. "By the way, who's the new stew?"
"Mary Rose. Now, how's that for a sweet name? I think she came over from TWA or one of the other big lines. Scuttlebutt has it she said no to the wrong passenger because she was clean, but the other outfit said they had to let her go. Why not ask her?"
"Better left unsaid," Mike shrugged.
Wheeling into the takeoff pattern, Mike gunned the engines, holding the flaps down and the brakes on. Then, as the big engines reached the takeoff rpm, he released the brakes. The plane moved forward, gaining speed. Mike was intent on the controls. Then they were airborne.
Out of the tower controls, Mike got a bearing from Lou who was acting as navigator, settled the plane into the course, and let Lou take the controls. Unhooking his seat belt, Mike walked out to the passenger compartment.
"Good evening, gentlemen," he called out over their noise. "I'm Mike. Hope we had a pleasant takeoff?"
"Smooth as good bourbon, captain. Care for some?"
"Hell, no!" cried another passenger. "Don't let the skipper get smashed. He's gotta get us to the land of sunshine, right?"
"Right," answered Mike. "Sorry, but I'll take a rain check. Meet me in the airport bar when we've landed in Miami."
Walking down the aisle, Mike caught Mary's beckoning nod and continued to the back of the plane. "Well, Mary, what can I do for you?"
"Nothing, captain, I just wanted to introduce myself. There wasn't time, earlier."
"The pleasure is mine, dear. Please call me Mike. This is O'Keefe Air, not Air France. No formalities between pilots and stewardesses. Only the happiest of relationships."
Mary smiled at Mike's wink. "And what time do we land in Miami, Mike ?"
"Oh, I'm not exactly certain. We stop at Dallas, and that may delay us from thirty to forty minutes. I would guess we'll get there just in time to close a few bars. Care to join me?"
"Well, I've been asked, but since this is our first flight, okay."
"Swell, I'll show you the sights of the world's biggest tourist trap," he offered.
Mary smiled. "I've seen Miami, but it might be fun with you."
"I'll try to accommodate you, Mary. See you in the bar."
The stop in Dallas took less time that Mike had calculated, and the plane was back in the air after twenty-eight minutes. Mike checked his watch and smiled, thinking the evening will still be young when we touch down in Miami.
The last of the happy wholesalers were loaded onto the airport limousine as Mike finished the reports to the local FAA office. Mary and Lou had long disappeared into the plush quietness of the bar and were enjoying their third gin and tonic when Mike found them.
"To a very smooth flight, captain, and to a very smooth copilot," Mary smiled. "While we've been waiting for you, he's been trying to get me juiced out of my mind. Not that I care . . ."
Behind Mary, a slightly irritated Lou soundlessly worded "Shove off," which Mike ignored and sat down on the stool next to Mary.
Smiling at Mary, Mike said, "That sounded like I've been done out of a date."
"Date?" Lou sputtered. "I had this date, old friend."
"You ? Ask the lady. Didn't I have a date with you since early this evening?"
"Gentlemen," pleaded Mary. "The fault is mine. I made a date with Lou before we boarded in L.A., Mike. That was the date I mentioned." Mike shrugged and made a motion to leave. "Wait a minute, Mike," Mary held him by his sleeve. "Why don't we make it a threesome?"
Mike and Lou exchanged glances, then looked at her quietly.
"Okay, okay! The silence is deafening! How about my calling the Marines? Figuratively, I mean. I've a close friend staying in Miami. She's expecting me, anyway, and she loves parties."
"Suits me," said Mike. "Lou?"
"Anything the captain says," Lou shrugged.
Mary smiled and slipped off to call her friend.
"Fink," snarled Lou.
"I didn't know Lou. She didn't say . . ."
"Helluva buddy you are."
"I'll take the friend."
"You've got to be kidding. You know dames. Mary'll have her friend clued. C'est la vie," sighed Lou.
Two rounds later Mary's friend arrived. She found them tucked into a corner booth.
"There's Suzy," Mary said, but she needn't have said a word. Both Mike and Lou had spotted her as she walked into the bar, and their eyes hadn't left her since.
She was, in the words of a three-syllable poet, a knockout. Long legs sheathed in a clinging white linen suit topped with a soft gold blouse of crepe that did nothing but accentuate the rounded fullness of her high, pointed breasts.
In spite of himself, Mike whistled. Lou just stared. Both almost upset the table trying to make room for her.
"Mike and Lou, this is Suzy," Mary introduced them.
"Hello," purred Suzy, swinging her long blonde hair first from Mike and then to Lou. It was obvious that Mary had, indeed, clued her friend, and Suzy, after nodding to Mike, turned her attention to Lou.
"I see you approve," murmured Mary to Mike.
"Mary, me darling, sure and you've picked a veritable colleen off the old sod to be the companion of our illustrious copilot! If I had known you had such friends, I might have been tempted to forsake you."
"Well," purred Suzy, in what seemed to be the only pitch to her voice, "we could switch later. But I like big halfback types, captain."
"Fullback, dear," said Lou, regaining his voice.
Mike had been to wild parties, but Suzy's suggestion seemed to be the wildest he had encountered outside of a dirty joke. He wondered what kind of a night was in store for them.
"Let's have another round, boys and girls," he signaled the hovering waitress. Three rounds were thus consumed before Suzy suggested they all go to her house. The bartender thought her suggestion so good, he bought them all the last round.
Weaving uncertainly, the foursome parted the double doors of the bar and wandered across the lobby. It was almost deserted, and the sound of the girls' high heels and all of their respective giggles sounded hollow throughout the terminal. A couple of porters, washing the accumulated footprints of the day from the terrazzo floors, looked up and grinned.
They piled into .a cab and immediately began singing some of the bawdier verses from The Wind Blows Cold in Iceland, referring to the cool reception GI's got in that frozen country during the second war. Mike's contribution to the quartet drifted off and he became involved in the contemplation of the minute pale down that ran down her neck, from her hairdo to some region below her uniform collar. Reaching his arm around her, he pulled her close to him and nipped her on the neck. She responded immediately by giggling and tonguing his ear, upsetting the precarious division of space between the couples. This, in turn, brought one of Suzy's legs under one of Mike's, the same leg which was supporting Mary, which, in turn, pinned one of Lou's long legs against the back of the front seat.
"Ow!" Everyone looked as Suzy questioningly, and she shrugged.
"Get off my angle, someone." Lou tried to move loose, but in trying to straighten up, Mike's heel jammed Lou's ankle harder against the seat. Suzy came to the rescue, pulled off the offending foot, and lifted Lou's aching ankle into Mary's lap.
"I don't believe it!" Mike howled. "Get that thing off!"
"Not until it's been thoroughly massaged. He'll be lame if the ankle isn't massaged," Suzy contended.
"Lovely creature, Mike. Her hands are working miracles." "Miracle, hell!"
"Well, here we are home," said Suzy as the cab slid to a halt in the sand-filled driveway.
The house took both Mike and Lou by surprise. They had seen posh joints along both coasts, but few could have matched Suzy's place. The ocean crashed right under the overhanging patio which featured a diving board.
"There's mooring for a small cruiser under the house, too," Suzy told them as they entered the house. "If you want, we can take a little ride."
"Not at the moment, dear hostess. Lead us to the liquid refreshment. Our throats are parched after the long drive." Lou was getting loosened up, a tipoff that he was getting crocked.
The interior of the beach house, when Suzy had turned up the lights, was almost too much. Thick, soft carpeting, honey blonde in color, and Mike noticed, matching Suzy's hair, ran wall to wall and out of sight into the other rooms. The hi-fi came on almost as soon as the lights did, and the music was definitely not piped. Opulent-looking pillows were strewn about the floor in not so much a haphazard fashion as they seemed. On closer study, Mike thought their arrangement was a singular success as a study in casual erotica.
Suzy brought out a quart of gin, an ice bucket and a six-pack of tonic mix. Then she settled herself languorously next to Lou and began fixing drinks.
Mary curled up closer to Mike, sipping her drink in small gulps and rubbing her back in time with the music against his chest. Mike let his hand slip down over Mary's shoulder, casually sliding down to the topmost button of her blouse.
"Wait a minute," whispered Mary. She got up and left the room.
"Me, too," said Suzy. "If you two want to get comfortable, there's a couple of Japanese kimonos in the dressing room over there."
"Well," said Mike to Lou, "we might as well 'get comfortable,' as the lady said." He began removing his shirt.
Lou watched Mike for a moment, then he shrugged. "What the hell," and he followed suit.
The kimonos fitted like kimonos. Like everything not tailored to him, Lou's kimono fitted snugly. It barely covered his knees. Mike's kimono found his fitted only slightly better. When they turned around, they both laughed, placed their arms into the sleeves and bowed from the waist.
"Ah, so, Louie-san. Hey, remember that jazz?" "Ah, so, Miki-san."
Both laughed and returned to the living room. It wasn't quite what they expected to see, but after the initial shock, each walked over to his respective date, acting as casual as possible.
"Ordinarily," said Mike, "I wouldn't cut in. But I'm not here to watch the show."
CHAPTER THREE
Mary and Suzy had split a pair of men's pajamas between them. Mary was wearing the top, and Suzy, the bottoms. They had their arms around one another, and were dancing to the music coming from the hi-fi. Neither seemed to notice that Mike and Lou had re-entered the room until they came over to the girls.
"May I cut in?" said Mike.
"Of course," said Mary, releasing her hold on Suzy and easing herself against Mike. He could feel the hardness of her nipples pressing against his chest through the silk of the pajama top. He pulled her close to him, hardly daring to let his hands stray down to the soft warm roundness of her buttocks.
He felt a tingle of excitement race through his body, burning away the alcohol he had consumed.
His fingers began to knead against her bare flesh. She kept her movements undulating in time with the music, pressing, first her thighs, then her soft belly against him.
The lights were dimmed to almost nothing, but the early morning light was beginning to filter through the picture windows overlooking the ocean.
Mary wrapped her arms around him tighter, sinking her mouth against his neck, letting her teeth and tongue taste the saltiness of his body.
Mike kissed her neck, then, putting his left arm under her thighs, he lifted her off her feet. She squirmed, pulling a button loose from the pajama top and letting her full, hard-nippled breasts poke themselves out against Mike. He leaned over and kissed them. Mary giggled as she held one in her free hand.
"Don't bite," she managed to caution him. Mike slashed his tongue even more viciously across the nipple, causing her to almost leap from his arms, squealing and shaking almost uncontrollably.
"Stop! Mike! Don't stop!"
He knew what she meant as he laid her roughly across the olive green pillow, forming a startling color separation between her creamy body and the dull, rich shade of the pillow.
"Now, Mike, please! Oh, now! Now!"
Their bodies clutched each other as they lost all their thoughts in a fury of lovemaking. Mary's legs worked like scissors, now squeezing him until he thought his lungs would burst, then releasing him until he felt he was being pushed away. Now and then, between the pounding of he heart, he could hear and feel Mary's breath as she sighed and made the all too familiar little animal sounds of lust.
Later, as he was laying back on the big pillow, Mary fixed drinks for both of them. They sat together, drinking, their eyes never leaving the love match going on across the room.
Lou was sitting on the edge of a pile of pillows. Suzy had straddled him, her feet pressed firmly into his back as she undulated her pelvis into his lap. Lou's big hands grasped the firm roundness of her buttocks and kept her riding her mount with unabated fury.
"That looks like an interesting position," Mike said as he slid his hand softly down the arch of Mary's back.
"It is," she said. "Want to try?"
Mike waved his still nearly full glass in front of her. "Slow down. We have the entire weekend. In the meantime, watch the show."
Even in the dimness of the room, Mike could sense the mounting urgency in Suzy and was not surprised when she squealed and began to pound her fists against the wall of flesh and hair that was Lou's chest. With a final subsiding pant she let herself slide down to the rug at his feet, then she curled up and went to sleep.
"Hey, what the hell," Lou said, sitting stupidly on the pillows. "What luck! I get the broad that passes out." He shook his head in disbelief.
Mary laughed. "Poor Lou. Isn't there something I can do?" She turned to Mike, who was sipping his drink.
"I'm busy drinking, and while I'm drinking, I don't really much care what in hell happens. Go ahead, if you think you can quiet the beast."
Mary was not one for the edge of a stack of pillows, and small as she was, she pulled a not unwilling Lou down on top of her on the floor. Mike watched their animated lovemaking for a minute and then turned to his drink. It was gone. He got up and went to fix another drink.
The occasional groans and giggles that came from the other side of the room made Mike look up once or twice from his survey of the back of Suzy's bar. He marveled at the assortment of the booze on hand and decided to try all the strange drinks he had scrupulously avoided in his years of drinking. He had already had a zombie, and so he ignored the rums. First a little Pernod. Hmm, just like licorice, he thought. Then he went to the Drambuie, drank a jigger full and smacked his lips. Think I'll try that again. He was pouring the second jigger full when he felt warm, damp fingers playing up his legs.
Suzy had crawled over from her napping place and followed Mike behind the bar. Engrossed in the liqueurs, he had not seen her approach. He couldn't mistake her present approach now, however, and he looked down at her, one eyebrow raised in question.
"Put your glass down, Mike," she whisper as she gently pushed him back against a stool. Mike managed one more quick sip as Suzy's wet mouth found his manhood. The reawakening was swift and Mike leaned down and picked up the lithe girl and took her back to the pillows. They ignored the show going on across the room, but then, that couple was not aware of them, either.
To wake up with a hangover is not so bad. Even to wake up with a hangover and a woman by your side is not so bad. But, to Mike's way of thinking, to wake up with a hangover and a woman by his side who was not the same one he went to bed with, was getting pretty damned far down the line on the way of complete depravity.
He felt like picking the cotton out of his mouth. It, the hangover, hit him that hard the next morning. Or was it the same morning? He didn't bother to ask.
The dawn had come up more like a sixty-decibel scream than like the thunder across the bay somewhere thought Mike. What in hell is that racket? Slowly, as the cobwebs of his brain gave way to consciousness, he caught the light-hearted refrains of Der Rosenkavalier emanating from the same hi-fi system which the night before had emitted such erotic rhythms. He started to get up, but the effort whisked a stab of pain through his head. Turn it off, he begged, but not aloud as he imagined.
"Coffee?"
Easing his head in the direction of the voice, Mike stopped in time to appreciate a finely chiseled pair of ankles. And further effort, he thought, will be a waste of time. Nevertheless, he slowly raised his field of vision to take in an equally bewitching pair of feminine calves.
He was just too hung over to fully appreciate the wider view his eyes brought before him when he raised his head all the way. Mary was standing over him, a steaming cup of coffee in her hands. That she had nothing covering her voluptuous body seemed to matter not one whit to her. In Mike's present condition, it mattered little to him. He reached for the cup.
"Ohh."
"Easy, used lover, stay right where you are, I'll bring the coffee to you," sang Mary.
Mike gave her a sick smile, which was all he could manage, but with her hand supporting his neck, he raised himself to a half-sitting position. Mary held the cup to his lips, and he drank.
"It's hot."
"Uh-huh. Take some more," she urged.
He did. Gradually he could feel the coffee taking its prescribed course through his system, restoring first a normal level of moisture to his mouth. From there he could feel it scald its way down into his stomach, awakening certain familiar rumblings which told, Mike it was time to eat. Whatever it is the minute quantities of caffeine in a cup of coffee do to the human system, began to be accomplished, and Mike was able to take the cup from Mary and finish the coffee without her help.
"Mmm," he said as he handed her the empty cup.
"Good morning yourself. Feel better? Want something to eat?" she asked.
"Give the little lady a silver dollar . . . no, give her a bathrobe before I start this nonsense all over again."
Mary laughed, took the empty cup, and walked away with it. "I'll get you more coffee. I'm not so sure you know what you want more of . . ." she didn't bother to finish the statement.
While Mary went to pour his coffee, Mike looked at the still sleeping form of Suzy. An impish grin lit his face, and he swung his hand flat out at her bare rump. The sound popped through the room, momentarily overriding the strains of Der Rosenkavalier..
Slowly and sleepily, Suzy moved her hand to her behind, and patted that delicately dimpled, round mass of flesh. She did not, however, open her eyes. Mike let her have it again, though not as firmly as before.
"I'm awake," she managed to growl. Her voice still had the husky overtones of the previous night, but the purr in it was gone. Mike decided against giving her another slap on the bottom and placed the cup of coffee Mary had given him, in front of her face.
"Coffee," said Suzy. One eye opened and looked at the cup. Then Suzy reached over with one hand and brought the cup to her lips and began to drink the coffee in measured sips. The coffee gone, she sat up and sighed, "Ah, consciousness."
The threesome began to feel the inevitable strangeness of being together-one man and two beautiful young women-naked. Mike felt tempted to cover himself, but one look around the room let him realize that his clothes were nowhere in sight. In his condition last night, he hadn't thought much for bed clothing or any other goddamn thing, either. The look was not lost on the girls.
"Do we embarrass you, lover?" Mary asked, assuming a provocative pose.
Mike closed his eyes, not in chagrin, but in a feinting action. He opened one eye and let it run over Mary's well-formed curves. It was answer enough for her. As far as she was concerned, the topic was closed for the moment.
"Let's go for a swim." This time Suzy's voice was closer to the soft and sensual purr that had so entranced Mike the night before.
"Like this?" Only a man, a woman once said, would be embarrassed swimming in the raw. Mike was more astonished at that suggestion than he had been when Suzy had come over to his place on the big pillow last night and, not even politely, told Mary to go and try to wake up Lou. She wanted a change, she had said.
"Of course, you ass. Do you think we're strangers or something?" Both Mary and Suzy laughed.
It struck Mike that the pair of them wore their nudity with a little too much confidence. It was a matter he would have to investigate later.
"But of course," he mimed. "Where in the hell is Lou? He's got to get down to the hanger and start a checkout on the new plane."
"Business," growled Suzy, getting up and stretching. The soft morning light illuminated her body as she did a few exercises in a lazy, but graceful manner. "Isn't that just like a man?"
"Lou's still sleeping, Mike. Do you want me to wake him?" asked Mary.
"Umm," was about as decisive as Mike could get. He looked at the corner where his copilot was sacked out.
Lou was indeed still sleeping. In fact, one might have taken a casual look and said, without being too far from the truth, that the body in the corner amid the gold and red pillows was just barely breathing.
While Suzy, Mary, and Mike discussed the various ways to awaken Lou, he slept on, wrapped in the arms of utter fatigue. Unlike Mike, he had gone the whole route with the unquenchable Suzy, and it was he, not Suzy, who suggested that they switch. At this moment, asleep, he had no regrets. Mary soon shattered that happy situation.
Holding another cup of coffee from Suzy's gold-plated coffee pot, Mary stepped over Lou's naked and faintly bruised body and whistled.
"Hey, Lou! Wake up!" The voice was away above the earlier sixty decibels that had brought Mike to consciousness. Even from where Mike was laying, some thirty odd feet away, he winced at the sound. So did Lou.
"I'm ready, I'm ready," he mumbled from his stack of pillows, but neither eye nor muscle twitched in any gesture of wakefulness. It was obvious to all that he was still a few hours back in time and talking right off the top of his head. Physically, he could have done no more than Mike could have at the time. There was not that much left to either one of them, and the girls knew it.
"Coffee time," chirped Mary in her best stewardess voice. In response, Lou opened one eye, closed it, then opened the other eye. He closed that eye almost immediately and tried the other eye again. For several moments that single eye glared at Mary malevolently. Finally he opened both eyes.
"Coffee, she says. I need a quickie. A pick-me-up. A lay-me-down. A roll . . ." Obviously, Lou was still not with it.
". . . in the hay? Wowie, what a man!" Suzy's voice more than purred; it fairly mewed with tabby cat delight at Lou's response. Lou just looked at her, winced, and rubbed a few very obvious bruises on his body.
"Just something to put me back on the track again."
"Coffee is the thing for you," Mary said firmly. She was still holding the steaming cup of coffee she had poured for him. Lou made a face, but took the hot container from her hand and put it to his lips.
"It's hot," he said.
"But of course," said Mary.
"Drink it!" yelled Mike and Suzy in unison.
Once the coffee had been downed, Lou snapped out of his daze, and he and Mike began discussing the day's program for Lou.
"Let me know how she checks out, and when you'll be taking her back," said Mike.
"I guess so," replied Lou. He was watching the girls, who were stretched out on the floor, the sunlight bathing their lovely bodies in golden highlights. "How about my taking Mary back with me? It's a long flight, alone."
Mike looked at the girls and shrugged. "Ask her."
"Hey, Mary!" he called, "how about making the flight back with me? I want some company."
Mary turned over and smiled at him, "Sure, lover. Race you to the shower." With that, she got up and ran into the bedroom. Lou followed her with surprising swiftness.
"Disgusting, isn't it?" said Mike as he turned to Suzy and was startled to see her eyes in direct line with his and about six inches away.
"Oh, I don't know," she purred, her golden-flecked eyes twinkling with amusement "He's a lot of man."
Mike grunted. "Thanks."
"C'mon, Mike," laughed Suzy, taking his arm with both hands and getting up. "How about that swim?"
Reluctantly, Mike got up and followed Suzy to the deck.
Suzy opened the sliding panel to the deck, ran quickly to the diving board, and poised momentarily at the end of the board before executing a neat but graceful dive into the water. Mike trotted out after her. His was not the neatly executed dive of Suzy's, but it got him into the water.
Mike surfaced and looked around. The gentle warmth of the water had been a pleasant surprise and it further served to help clear his head.
"Nice, isn't it?" Suzy purred. She had surfaced close to him and was treading water, easing herself closer to him, touching finally, brushing her wet nipples against him.
"Swimming it was you wanted, so let's swim!" Turning toward her, he raised his hand and pushed her head under. With that done, he submerged himself via a surface dive that left a trail of froth on the water. Suzy easily found him swimming underneath her and she charged after him.
Fifteen minutes later, the swimmers climbed up a ladder to the deck and lay laughing and gasping for breath on the sun-baked wood.
Lou and Mary walked over to the deck. They were now fully dressed and looked crisp and efficient in their uniforms, their highball glasses looking strangely incongruous.
"Join us?" Lou asked Mike and Suzy.
Mike gave Lou a look of displeasure.
"Relax, Mike. Just one for our souls. I doubt if I could walk across the room without it. How about it? Care for one? You don't have to fly."
"I hope to hell I don't have to. No, skip the drink. You be sure you get your tail down to the hanger before noon."
"Right-o, captain." Tilting the glass back, he drained the contents. "Well, kiddies, have fun. How's about a goodbye kiss?" Lou leaned over Suzy, who responded with enthusiasm.
Mary came over and bussed Mike soundly. "See ya, lover."
A beeping horn brought their goodbyes to a close, and Lou and Mary left, arm in arm.
Mike and Suzy remained on the deck after Lou and Mary had gone, letting the sun dry them off.
"Hungry, Mike?" she purred.
"Suzy, you're insatiable," he moaned, turning over and shielding his eyes with his arm.
Suzy giggled and ran a fingernail down Mike's side. "I meant, are you hungry for something like ham and eggs or corn flakes, you know," she purred, watching his reaction with amusement.
"I never eat the morning after."
"You must go hungry every morning."
"Only when I'm not flying."
"I want to show you something, Mike."
"Uh-uh. I've seen enough already."
Suzy got to her feet and walked into the living room. "This isn't quite the same, Mike. Come in. It's not for public display."
His curiosity around, Mike followed Suzy. The move gave him an opportunity to watch Suzy's sensual walk. He had to remind himself she was walking and not dancing.
She walked with her heels slightly raised, and with strides slightly longer than the average woman's, an act which accentuated her long legs when she was dressed. A softness around her hips belied her otherwise athletic body. It was a pleasant contemplation, thought Mike.
"Hey!" he called, just as Suzy was about to enter the bedroom. "I'm thirsty. How about a drink?"
Suzy grimaced and walked back to him. Mike smiled to himself as he watched her approach. The front was better than the back.
"I'll fix you a special wake-up drink. It'll have you straightened out in no time," she said as she moved behind the bar. Deftly Suzy cut a few oranges in half, squeezed them, added a small handful of white pills from what looked like a medicine bottle, two squirts from the soda bottle, and put the whole concoction into the liquidizer for a few seconds.
"What was that?" asked Mike suspiciously.
"B-12."
Mike's eyebrows rose, but he made no more comment. It was obvious Suzy intended to share the concoction, for she poured it into two old fashioned glasses, raised one, and said, "Bottoms up," with a wicked gleam in her eyes.
They drained their glasses in unison.
"Now you sit down. I'll bring it out to you." The firmness with which Suzy spoke gave him a slightly intimidated feeling and he sat down on a large blue pillow and waited for her to return from the bedroom.
It took awhile before she returned. He could heard a door open in the other room, and paper rustling, then Suzy staggered back into the room.
"Have you ever seen anything like this?" Suzy came back into the room, staggering beneath the weight of a small statue. From its dull yellow color, Mike sensed it was gold, and from the way Suzy was struggling with it, he knew it weighed plenty.
"You're right," said Suzy, second-guessing him. "It was made, or rather ordered made by my grandfather. Gramps was a nasty old codger as you can see." Suzy gave the statue to Mike. It was indeed beautiful work, but despite its exquisite craftsmanship, even the venerable Cellini would have blushed over it. The statue was a meticulously detailed representation of three nude figures, two voluptuous women and one man, entangled intimately together.
Mike examined it closely, noting the loving care that had been put into the piece. The artist, Mike thought, was undoubtedly a lusty old reprobate himself. No sensual detail was left out, he saw, not even the hair on the man's chest.
"Pretty good work, huh? Gramps had it done in
China after he made his first million. I always accused him of posing for the man's part in that triangle, and I really think that he did. He wouldn't admit it, of course, but he sure got around. Well, what do you think of it?"
"What do I think of it? I think you ought to melt it down before some cop gets a look at it and runs you in for possession of pornography. How much does it weigh, anyway?"
"Exactly thirty-five pounds, which makes its value approximately twenty thousand dollars for the gold alone. Of course it's worth much more as it is. In fact, when Gramps gave it to me, he said it might bring me close to five times that much from some rich connoisseur. I never believed him until last month."
"Oh? You got an offer for it?"
"Yeah, this character called me from Mexico City and offered me a hundred thousand dollars for it."
"That's a lot of scratch, sweetie. I don't suppose asking why he wants it would matter much. Is he nuts, or just another 'nasty old man' like Gramps?"
"I guess he must be. But I've got a problem. I know I own this thing, but most of my money is tied up in a trust fund with my older brother as trustee. Well, big brother wants the statue so that he can peddle it and keep the money to himself to pay off some gambling debts. Then there's the matter of an old tax situation that has to be settled before he touches any more of the money in the trust fund. Understand?"
"Uh, sit right down here, doll, and start from the top." Mike indicated the pillow next to him.
Suzy sat. Snuggling close to Mike, she told him the story of how her grandfather had the statue made, and that he gave it to her when he found out she had spent a weekend with some man when she was in college, and why he wanted her to have it above and beyond the trust fund.
"Gramps was a nut, I guess. But he was a sweet nut. He told me he was leaving me a lot of money, but that in order to really enjoy myself, I should learn all the arts of a courtesan. So I became a call girl. I've just been an amateur but I have gotten some nice things out of doing what I like to do, anyway."
"This house, for example, was a gift from an old Wall Street moneybags. And I didn't have to sleep with him. All he wanted me to do was parade around in the raw in front of him. He was old. I guess that's why. Do you think I'm a bad girl?"
"Bad? Hell, no, baby. You're the best. I mean, the best kind of a girl a bad boy would want to meet. Now that you've told me all this, what do I do? Do I shoot your brother? Beat him up? Hide the statue? What?"
"Just fly us, the statue and me, to Mexico City before my brother's friends arrive. He said he was sending a couple of his boys down here to make sure he got the statue. I don't intend to let him have it, of course. I need help to get this statue delivered to that Sancho character. Once sold, big brother will be out straddling a couple thin limbs, and the money will keep me out of his clutches long enough for the trust to be turned over to me."
"What about customs?"
"As a matter of fact, I was counting on your doing this favor for me, anyway. I have a nice new Aero Commander for the rest of the week."
Suzy's information about the plane was lost in the almost hysterical laughter which was doubling Mike up.
"Baby, you're something. Once pressed, a little thing like international law doesn't stop you at all." His laughter subsiding, Mike leaned back against the wall. "What did you say you had for the week?"
"An Aero Commander. It belongs to a friend, and I can use it this week."
"Same kind of friend as moneybags, huh?"
"Don't be nasty, Mike. Of course he's a friend and a very good client, too. Well, will you take us to Mexico?"
Mike thought. He could always get a pilot to take the wholesalers back to L.A. Sam wouldn't mind. For in the eight years and more since they had worked together, Mike hadn't taken a vacation. But, how about Janet? Janet. .. Mike looked at Suzy and realized Janet didn't mean that much, and, Mike rationalized ... it ought to be damned good fun.
Suzy snuggled closer to him, rubbing her nipples up and down Mike's bare chest. The expected reaction was not long in coming. He pulled her closer, gently pushing her down on the pillow.
"Not here, Mike," she whispered. "Let's go into the bedroom." He kissed her stiffened nipples and then stood up, taking her up with him by the hand. She melted against him and let herself be led into the other room.
It was almost what Mike had expected. The big bed was round. The carpeting on the floor was the same thick, champagne-colored carpeting used in the other room. Here the similarity ended. The half-dozen pillows on the bed were covered with animal furs, and the bed itself had a black-dyed calfskin throw on it. Bas relief of every kind of conceivable sexual expression adorned the walls.
"Ah hah!" said Mike. "Your version of etchings, I suppose. Where in hell did you ever get an assortment like this?"
"It's too long a story, Mike. C'mon, let's not waste any time." Suzy pulled him closer to the bed.
"Right," he said and followed her over to the big round bed. Then something funny struck him. He thought of a book he had read recently. What was the title .. . ? Never Trust a Lady with, a Round Bed. Of course. He laughed because he didn't trust Suzy.
They played for a few minutes, taking little nips at each other's neck and shoulders. Then, as Mike tried to push Suzy down on the bed, she wriggled away from him.
"Wait, Mike. Not just yet." She turned her head away from him, and not looking at him, said, "Will you do something for me? I mean something different."
Mike sat down on the edge of the bed. There was something in her voice that put him on his guard. "Sure, anything," he answered lightly. "What would you like? An Irish jig? How about a Polish hop?"
"No," she said, still not looking at him. "I want you to, well, I want you to spank me, Mike."
Mike wasn't sure he had heard her correctly. "You want me to spank you? What in hell for?"
"Please, Mike. Just do it. Don't ask why." She turned around then and faced him.
"Whatever you say," he said softly. The erotic idea of spanking her round firm bottom suddenly seemed very attractive. With his hands on her hips, he pulled her closer to himself and pressed his lips against her navel. She shuddered.
Mike pulled her over his lap, enjoying more than he understood the curve of her hips and the arch of her back. His hand roamed over those curves and felt the warm flesh quiver.
"Now, Mike, now," she whispered.
He lifted his hand and brought it down softly on her rump. It was a love pat, hardly more than what he would have given a girl in passing her in a corridor.
"Harder, Mike. Please. Hit me very, very hard," she pleaded passionately.
"You asked for it, sweetie," Mike said and brought his hand down a second time. This time, it was no love pat, and the sound of his palm smacking loudly against her bare flesh echoed around the room. Suzy squealed with delight.
"Oh, harder, Mike, please, more. Harder."
He did as she said and slammed his hand down on her bottom again and again until his palm was tingling with irritation. She squeezed her thighs tightly together and held onto Mike's ankles with her hands. Her rear end was bright red. Mike slammed his hand onto her burning flesh once more before she rolled off him, tears running down her face.
"That was wonderful, Mike. Please don't stop me."
She buried her face between his legs and now it was his turn to moan in ecstasy. But this time, he vowed, he would not let her deplete him that way. Roughly he pulled her up and pushed her back over the bed. Her legs opened wide to greet him.
Much later, they showered together. Finally dressed, Mike sat on the edge of Suzy's bed, enjoying the sight of a beautiful woman dressing. First her stockings, then her panties, her bra, and at last, a well-tailored white dress. Sitting down next to him on the bed, Suzy slipped into her pumps. As he watched, he made his call to a pilot friend to return the wholesalers to L.A.
"Ready?" Mike asked.
"Just a minute, Mike. I want to repair my makeup."
As Suzy went into the bathroom, Mike lit another cigarette and let his eyes roam over the bas relief on the bedroom walls. A number of minutes passed before Suzy returned, carrying a small case. She smiled at him. "I'm ready," she said.
A loud banging came from the front door. "Damn!" said Suzy. "That must be those characters Bud sent. We've got to get out of here!"
"How?" Mike had leaped to his feet at the first loud noise, and was looking about for another exit.
"I've got a car in the garage. We can get there through the kitchen. Bring the statue." Suzy was already on her way toward the kitchen. Mike picked up the statue, grunting under the sudden weight of it, and followed Suzy through the kitchen, down a few steps, and into the garage.
Her classy car was typical of the girl. It was what the ads called la eleganza bestiale, or The Elegant Beast, Maserati.
"Can you drive it?"
"Are you kidding? Get in, doll. For this ride I'd take you to Hong Kong. Another gift from a 'friend'?"
"No gift, Mike. It's all mine. Like it?" "Beautiful. Let's get out of here before those creeps think of looking in here." "Too late. There they are." The garage door had swung up, and the silhouettes of two men, trench coats slung over one shoulder, were outlined against the sudden daylight. They didn't see Mike and Suzy yet, but Mike knew as he turned the ignition switch and the beast roared to life, his only advantage was the element of surprise. Slamming into first and lead-footing the accelerator, Mike used those precious seconds to send the beast careening down the driveway onto the street.
Through the rear-view mirror, Mike saw the pair pick themselves up and run back to their car, a black Caddy. No imagination, he thought.
"You really bowled them over," giggled Suzy, wrapping a scarf around her hair.
"How far is the field?" shouted Mike over the roar of the engines.
"About fifteen miles," shouted Suzy. "Hurry, Mike! I can see them!"
"Baby, I'm doing the legal limit now. How's the cop situation around here ?"
"This road is well patrolled, if that's what you mean. On the other hand, I don't want to lose all the money that my trio can bring me, so kick it in the guts and go."
Mike thought, what the hell? and really put his foot into it. The car reacted instantly, burning a little rubber off the rear tires and jumping the needle on the tach to better than five thousand rpm's.
The beast handled in the elegant manner of the purebred racing machines the firm was famed for. Putting all his talents of instant reactions into driving it, Mike soon forgot about the hoods behind them. At 130 miles per hour, he was interested in only keeping the car within the bounds of the highway. It had a sensitive touch, but a sure-footed one, and Mike loved every minute of driving it hard.
He was not sure just how long he had been driving, but when he slowed to make the turnoff toward the field, Suzy shook her head and motioned him to continue straight ahead. Mike knew little of the territory ahead of them, except that it led almost straight across the swamps. He continued with misgivings, however, and pretty soon Suzy told him to slow down.
"Turn here," she shouted over the car's throaty exhaust.
"Here? That's just a country road," Mike protested. "Trust me. Turn!"
Mike turned. Soon, even the ruts of the old dirt road vanished, and he was forced to slow down. After ten minutes of driving like that, he brought the car to a complete halt.
"We're going to wreck the car if we continue, Suzy."
"It's just a few more minutes, Mike. We'll make it all right. I think we've lost those creeps, anyway, so we have no reason to drive hard."
Mike let the clutch out and continued pushing down reeds over what he hoped might be a semblance of a road, though he couldn't see it. Visions of dropping into some quicksand alarmed him, but looking at Suzy's calm expression, he thought no more about it.
"Turn here," Suzy said as they neared a tightly massed group of cypress trees.
Just around the trees stood one of those elegant antebellum plantation houses, and it was every bit as rundown and deserted-looking as if it were the setting for a Tennessee Williams play.
"Go around the back," Suzy motioned Mike.
Mike eased the Maserati through a tortuous series of ruts and fallen logs to the back of the house. There he was surprised, for the expected view of a few dilapidated shanties and perhaps a Tobacco Road tenant farmer did not materialize. Instead, there was a clear, level field, obviously well tended in order to keep the swamp back. His eyes lighted up at the sight of the clean lines of an Aero Commander, its twin engine housings gleaming in the tropical sunlight. It was warming up.
"Can you fly it?" asked Suzy.
Mike grinned ear to ear. "Can Florence Chad-wicke swim?" He pulled the beast closer to the plane and turned off the ignition.
They got out of the car and stood looking at the plane.
"How about fuel? Checkout with the FAA?"
Suzy smiled. "Forget those problems. The man who owns this plane is a regular visitor to the land of the tamale. Everything's been taken care of. Even the Mexican authorities. He's such a frequent visitor, he needs no papers; at least, that's what he says."
"I'll bet. Well, shall we go? Sam's going to hate me, but I've gone this far, and I've no intention of leaving the way we came in."
CHAPTER FIVE
"Hello, Captain Conrad, we were expecting you a little later, but everything's ready now." The voice came from a casually dressed youngish man with gray hair. He spoke politely, yet, Mike thought, with an air of authority. He stepped out of the cockpit of the Aero Commander, wiping his grease-stained hands on his shorts. He didn't look exactly like a member of someone's ground crew.
"I'm Jackson Smithson, Jack for short. My dad owns the Aero. I usually fly it for him, but when he says, give it away, I give it away." He extended his hand to Mike. "I'm pleased to meet you, captain."
Mike shook hands with Jack commenting, "It looks pretty good."
"I try to keep her in top condition. I would have liked to have been a line pilot, but I've been kept busy being Dad's number one aerial chauffeur and grease monkey."
"Mike," Suzy said, "this is a darling boy. His father and I are old friends." Mike took her emphasis on her words to mean "get that frown off your face, he's not the guy." Mike cleared his expression.
"My pleasure, Jack. Is she all checked out? We want to make a quick departure."
"She's raring to go, captain. When Suzy called this morning and told me you were a line pilot, I came right over. Everything's been checked out, but I'd be happy to go over everything with you."
"Jack, for crissakes! I'm just a seat-of-the-pants pilot. You can drop all that captain-airline pilot jazz. It's only until a regular airline takes us over that I'll be a captain, then I'll be lucky if I can get a job flying a Piper Cub."
Jack laughed. "I'm sure you're being much too modest, Mike. It's nice to know Suzy hasn't changed," he smiled.
"I don't believe we have enough time to check the check out, Jack." Mike cast a few troubled glances at the marsh behind them. "I think we can take our chances on your having made excellent preparations, Jack. And, uh, thank your father for the use of the plane."
"Forget it. We'll pick it up in L.A. next week. Just park it at our ramp in Van Nuys. Have a nice trip to the Coast."
"Uh? Yeah." Mike was stumbled by Jack's comment. Was it possible that Jack didn't know where he and Suzy were going? Suzy stepped closer to Mike, nudging him slightly to be quiet. It was easy to be quiet, standing close to the slow throb of the idling engines.
"We will," Suzy broke in. "And give John our thanks. It isn't every honeymooning couple that gets such fancy transportation to take them to the Coast."
"Compliments of the Smithsons, a family noted for four generations for its devotion to the calls of matrimony."
"How about that?" Mike commented to no one in particular. Though Mike was trying to appear nonchalant at that moment, a dazed expression was on his face, and he seemed more than a trifle confused.
"Don't mind Mike, Jack. You know what they say about anxious bridegrooms . . ."
"Yes, I've been there a few times, Suzy. Frankly, I've always wondered later why I bothered."
Mike smiled weakly, Suzy purred, and for a moment, at least, they had the appearance of the newly wedded.
Jack smiled at them both with sudden understanding.
"Suzy, if you don't mind, I'll take the car back. Shiro took the Jeep last night, and frankly, I don't relish spending another night at Mausoleum Manor alone. Have the best of luck, and a happy life together."
Still dazed, Mike again shook Jack's proffered hand. Then he and Suzy climbed into the Aero. Jack slammed the door shut behind them and pulled the steps away.
"Honeymooning couple, oh, brother!" Mike growled at Suzy, who smiled apologetically. Then he stalked into the pilot's compartment, leaving Suzy to fend for herself in the passenger's area.
After settling himself into the pilot's seat, Mike took a few minutes to acquaint himself with the panel on the Aero. Then waving his readiness to Jack, he waited for Jack to wave him out of the parking area.
Jack knew enough of flight control to give clear, prompt, and well-timed hand signals. And in a few minutes the high-pitched snarl of the Aero's engines sounded over the Florida swamp.
At ten thousand feet, Mike leveled off into a cruising altitude, eased back the throttles, adjusted the trim, and finally, he made contact with the Miami tower. After checking his bearing and altitude, Mike set the auto-pilot and released his seat belt.
He had lit a cigarette and stretched out in the leather contour chair, when he remembered Suzy. He pulled back the curtain dividing the flight area from the passenger's compartment. It was evident that Suzy was not aware he was watching her. She had removed her seat belt and was looking out over the blue sky, her face composed and serene. It was a Suzy he hadn't seen before.
I wonder what the hell is going on in that conniving brain of hers, thought Mike. Of all the strange female creatures he had ever encountered, Suzy was the most unfathomable. In the less than twenty-four hours of their relationship, Suzy had been the most wild of party girls, the acquisitive call girl, the wronged heiress, and now, the determined adventuress.
He had strong doubts about having become involved to the point of being chased by two strong-arm men, "borrowing" the personal plane of an obviously well-heeled and influential man, and breaking all the CAA rules on flight.
I'll probably lose my license, he thought. I'll probably lose Janet. Janet! Mike's momentary panic gave way to the realization that he had made his move hours before and could only now make the most of the situation he had put himself in.
"Hey, Mrs. Conrad!" he roared over the throb of the engines. His voice seemed not to have startled Suzy at all. She remained as composed as she had been looking out the window when she turned her head to Mike.
Mike got out of the pilot's chair and walked back to Suzy. There he sat in a similar chair next to her. "Well?" he asked, both eyebrows raised.
Suzy grinned. "I suppose you want the whole story. I called John Smithson last night, right after I spoke to Mary, and asked for the plane."
"Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?" commented Mike, feeling irritated.
Suzy looked at him calmly. "Yes, I am sure of myself, Mike. I was determined to get away before Bud could send his hoodlums after me and take the statue away. All I needed was a flier, er, pilot, and if either you or your friend wouldn't have taken me . . ."
"Jack would have, eh?"
"Probably. But I didn't really want to involve the Smithsons any more than necessary. John is a very generous man, but puritanical in his attitude about things. It would not have been in my favor for him to know the whys of my intended trip. When Jack called this morning, I simply told him the first thing that came to mind."
Mike snorted. "Marriage? I can hardly believe it."
Suzy pouted. "That was mean, Mike."
"I'm sorry. But you might have let me in on the plot. As it was, Jack probably has the notion the marriage hasn't really taken place yet. He's no dummy."
"Maybe so, but he's no stool pigeon, either."
"You hope." Mike pulled Suzy toward himself. "Off with your togs, wife! Your husband desires you."
"Oh, Mike! Be serious! We can't do anything here in the middle of the sky."
"No? C'mere." Their lips met, brushing together in the gentlest of caresses before losing themselves in their mutual fire. Mike's arms wrapped around Suzy's body as he stood up. His hands sought the zipper of her dress slowly, making a topographical survey of her firm-fleshed hips. After all, as the travel agencies say, getting there is half the fun.
Suzy broke away breathlessly. "But Mike, in an in-flight plane when you're the pilot?"
"Allow me to initiate you into the mile-high club." She protested under the pressure of his mouth on hers, but he could feel her bare skin was warm and seemed to be getting warmer. She relaxed into the inevitable passion.
Quickly she pulled the dress over her head. Then, with an obvious eye to pleasing Mike, she eased out of her brassiere slowly, teasingly, and at the same time, kept her hips moving in a slow-rolling movement suggestive of nothing but carnal fires.
Mike looked, feeling the desire swell in himself, knowing that this woman was like none other he had ever made love to before. She noticed his dreamy stare and smiled, letting the lacy panties drop to the deck of the plane. Only her garter belt, stockings, and shoes remained. These, she knew, were unnecessary, but they added a touch of erotica to the moment.
She smiled, knowing her body was even more desirable partially clad. "Shall I continue, mon capitain? Or would ze handsome flyer prefer Mi-mi with ze stockings on? Perhaps Mimi could create ze, how you say, ze static electricity on ze flyer's back, no?"
"Ze flyer had better get a check on ze bearings, first." Mike quickly turned into the cockpit, noted briefly their approximate position, and returned to Suzy. She was again sitting, her legs crossed loosely at the knees, on the lounge chair.
Mike went to her. She pulled his head down to her bosom. He breathed in the aroma of her body, that delicate animal odor that excites and that is so often and regrettably hidden by perfume. Suzy's perfume complemented it.
Suzy ran her hands through Mike's hair, rumpling it gently and firmly, depending on what Mike's mouth was doing to her breasts. Slowly, like a harpist traveling down a complicated arpeggio, she let her hands play down Mike's spine. Coming to a momentary stop at his belt, she pressed her slim fingers into his kidneys, causing Mike to squirm and press his mouth harder on her body. Her fingers moved around and unbuckled his belt.
In a moment it was unnecessary. Mike took Suzy's body into his arms, crushing her closer, seeking to know with his lips the whole of her body. She cried the moan of passion. Mike had found her point of deepest sensation.
They were on the floor, flank to flank, breathing the soft and deep sighs of the completely satisfied, when Mike heard the voice. It crackled as voices do over the radio. Had he left his receiver on? What about the . . . ? He leaped to his feet.
"That was a real go, Aero," the voice said. "Now that you're through, why don't you sit in the cabin where you belong?"
Mike scrambled into his pants and shirt. Suzy just rolled over. "Might as well give them a good look," she laughed. "After all, they've seen just about everything there is to see between a man and a woman."
"Get dressed," Mike fairly shouted over the noise of the engines. "For crissakes, get dressed and draw the curtains on all the goddamn windows. I'll fix that wise guy!"
Stepping into the cockpit, still buttoning his shirt, Mike grabbed the mike from the hook. "This is Aero. Where in hell are you, Bosco?" Quickly he snapped on the earphones, thus disconnecting the loudspeaker.
"Just about two o'clock, Aero. This is a navy recon. We caught you on our radar and had to investigate. What are you doing here?"
"I gathered you had already established that. We're on a check-out flight."
"Man, like I wish I was a shore pilot!"
"Okay, wise guy, what's the problem?"
"Who are you, and where are you heading?" This time the voice had the unmistakable note of authority. Mike caught the official inflection and complied with the information required.
"This is Aero...Captain Conrad, O'Keefe Charter Air, heading Miami to Los Angeles."
"Well, captain, you're about two hundred miles south of the usual flight pattern for L.A. You'd better check your auto-pilot. So long, and give my compliments to the lady."
"Hah! Over and out, you nosy son-of-a-bitch."
"Tut, tut, captain. Such language on the public air-waves!" The voice signed over and out with a distinctly vulgar laugh. Mike watched the sleek jet up its flaps, throw in the after-burner and screech away into the sun, doing a lazy bank toward its base. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Walking back to Suzy, he found her in a state of near hysteria from laughing. She pointed at his feet.
"Velcome, handsome flyer. But vere did you leaf your boots?"
Mike looked down. Sure, enough, he was still barefoot. He joined her in laughter.
CHAPTER SIX
"This is the last goddamn straw, O'Keefe! You get rid of that flying Romeo or I'll bust this airline so wide open, you'll have to hire the whole navy to find its assets. Now do it!"
Harry Milbourne's face was that particular shade of red mostly known as apoplectic, a cherry-bright hue, a veritable vermilion. His six-foot heavy frame leaned on Sam's desk. He had the anger in his eye of a man whose only daughter had been violated. Harry Milbourne was such a man at this moment.
"Mr. Milbourne," Sam began, quietly, soberly, trying to save some fragment of his airline, "why Captain Conrad hired another pilot to return the wholesaler group, instead of flying them back himself, I'll never know. I spoke to him before he made the flight to Miami, and he made no mention of not coming back when expected. I agree with you, he went too far. But," and now Sam removed his glasses, "as for your daughter being 'violated,' I don't believe that O'Keefe Charter Air should concern itself with the personal problems of its employees."
"The hell you say!" Milbourne's fist banged down on Sam's desk. "I want to know where that lousy, no-good, whore-mongering, s.o.b. is. He's not in Miami. I've had detectives looking for him for two days. Now you tell me where he is."
Milbourne's demand was strictly rhetorical. If Sam had known where Mike Conrad was, he would have had him shanghaied and returned to O'Keefe Charter Air. But Sam's own inquiries into Conrad's unexplained disappearance had been as fruitless as Milbourne's.
"Dad, please," pleaded Janet. She and Lou were seated behind the arguing men. Both were uncomfortable. Janet, for having her personal problems aired so publicly; Lou, because, in lieu of having Mike on the carpet, Milbourne had demanded his presence. Also, he was embarrassed for Janet, whom he liked.
"Mr. Milbourne, I do not know where Captain Conrad is. And, until he returns, or informs this company of his whereabouts, and explains his absence, I'm afraid the strongest action I intend to take is suspension until further notice. Good pilots are hard to come by, and I don't intend to dismiss my best pilot just to satisfy your personal grudge." Sam jammed his glasses back on his nose and sat back.
Harry Milbourne turned around to Janet, sputtering in his anger. "And, you!" he roared at her. "Letting that bastard make a laughing stock out of me!"
Not without a temper herself, Janet roared right back. "I fail to see what the hell you had to do with it! Mike was screwing me, and I can assure you, he'd know the difference between us."
Unruffled by Janet's outburst, Milbourne turned on Lou. "And where the hell were you when that son-of-a-bitch disappeared?"
"Here, sir," Lou answered in a mild voice.
"What!"
"The last time I saw Mike was at the field in Miami," lied Lou. "He made no mention of not returning as planned."
"Well, he's not in the hospital, and he's not in jail. What happened to him?" demanded Milbourne again.
"I really don't know," Lou looked at Janet pleadingly.
"I believe you, Lou."
"Well, I don't!" shouted Milbourne. He turned back to Sam, "I intend to get to the bottom of this if it takes the better part of a year, O'Keefe." Then he grabbed Janet by the arm and stamped out of Sam's office.
Sam waited until he could hear the outer office door close. "All right, Lou, where is that s.o.b., Mike?"
"Like I told Mr. Milbourne, Sam, I don't know."
"And I don't believe a word you said. Where did you two go when you got to Miami?"
What the hell, thought Lou. Sam isn't about to spread anything around, he's got enough troubles. I might as well protect number one.
"Well . . . we, Mike, the stew, Mary Rose, and myself went to this chick's house on the beach. Mary and I left Mike and the girl there the next morning and brought the new plane back."
"Is that all?" asked Sam.
"Well . . ." Lou looked at the tips of his shoes.
"It sounds like it was more of an orgy than a party. Get that stewardess, Mary Rose, in here right now," he bellowed into the intercom at his secretary.
For the last three days, Mary had worried over whether Mike would return with the scheduled flight. Her suspicions that Mike might be headed for points unknown began on that Saturday morning when she had called Suzy's house from the field and had gotten no response. Suzy hadn't been particularly eager to join them the night before until Mary had told her the men were pilots. And she, Mary, just knew Suzy had no particular thing for pilots. Suzy was too expensive.
When the call from Sam's secretary came, it was no surprise.
"Hello, this is Mary Rose." she said.
"This is Mr. O'Keefe's office calling, Miss Rose. Mr. O'Keefe would like you to report to his office in an hour. Can you make it?"
"Yes," she replied. "I'll be there.
"Thank you."
"Goodbye." Mary replaced the receiver carefully, and resigned herself to the possibility of having to go job hunting for the second time in a month.
When Mary saw Lou sitting in Sam's office when she got there, she knew that that part of her hunch had been right. But Sam was unexpectedly gentle with her.
"Miss Rose?" Sam asked when she came in.
"Yes, sir."
"Sit down, please." Mary sat. "I understand that when you, Captain Conrad, and Mr. Kovacs arrived in Miami, you went to the house of friend of yours and spent the night."
"Yes, sir."
Sam smiled encouragingly at her. "Would you please give me the name and address of this friend?"
Mary's eyebrows rose, and then she looked a Lou. Lou nodded his assent. Mary looked back at Sam. "Is that all?" she asked.
"Well, not quite, Miss Rose. Do you happen to know what happened to Captain Conrad after you and Mr. Kovacs left him?"
"No, sir."
Sam sighed, shuddering as he did so with silent sobs. "In that case, your friend's name and address will be sufficient."
Mary took out her address book, tore out a sheet from it, dutifully wrote out Suzy's name and address, and handed it to Sam.
"Thank you, Miss Rose. I'm going to have this address checked out. I would appreciate it if you kept my secretary informed of your whereabouts until further notice." Sam turned to Lou. "That goes for you, too, Kovacs. Now get out of here, both of you."
Mary and Lou left Sam's office quickly and quietly, pausing at the secretary's desk long enough to tell her they'd be in the airport bar if O'Keefe wanted them, then they marched directly to the bar.
Two hours later, they were still sitting at the bar, drinking silently, steadily. Neither of them showing any signs of getting drunk. Lou stared thoughtfully at his hands, turning the large palms up, then down, and rubbing his thumbs across the first joint of his index finger. Mary watched his movements in fascination.
"What are you worried about, Lou? Mike can take care of himself," she said.
"It's not Mike so much. It's Janet. That was a lousy thing for Mike to do. He had no right to bug out without telling her, anyway."
"What has Janet Milbourne got to do with it, Lou?"
"Well, they had an understanding," began Lou.
"Oh?" This was news to Mary, who doubted Mike's ability to have an "understanding" of the kind implied by Lou. "Well, maybe something happened to Mike."
"To Mike Conrad! Impossible! And, if anything had, I'm sure we'd have known about it by now."
"How can you be so sure? Suzy may have had him take her flying."
"Well, if . . . what's that again?"
"I said they may have gone flying."
"Where? When?" Lou grabbed, Mary by the shoulders.
"How should I know? It's just a hunch of mine, anyway." Mary pushed Lou's hands off her shoulders and returned to her drink. "Besides, they wouldn't be gone for three days."
"That's true." Lou swallowed the last of his drink and signaled the bartender.
Mary watched the bartender, trying to think of some way that they could trace the missing pair. The hunch that Suzy had wanted a pilot for some purpose known only to herself kept bothering her. "Say, Lou. I've got an idea. Let's call Suzy's brother. He lives in New York, and I know he keeps close tabs on his sister. At least, he tries to. He might know where she is, and just maybe, Mike is still with her."
Lou looked at her. He wasn't quite sure that this was the same hot number he had in Miami. He wondered what Mary hoped to gain by it, but he knew everyone else would be let off the hook if they did locate Mike.
Albert Hinman laid the phone down thoughtfully. The call from Los Angeles was an unexpected bit of good luck. He bad not known that his sister was with an airline pilot, one Mike Conrad. The pieces now began to fit together. His men, two of his best gambling partners and both somewhat in his debt, had called him Saturday morning with the news that Suzy had got away with some crazy man driving. The boys lost them on the highway, but saw the car returning that afternoon with a guy who was not the one with Suzy that morning.
"Somewhere," he said to the paneled walls of his study, "my ungracious whore of a sibling is hiding with a flyboy."
The phone rang again. He picked it up quickly. "Hinman here," he told the wire.
"Hello, Albert. This is Jack Smithson. I was wondering if you had any word from Suzy. I know she's on her honeymoon, but Dad's getting concerned about the plane."
"Honeymoon? Plane?" Albert was stunned. "But, Jack, old boy, she didn't tell me she was getting married. And what's this about a plane?"
"Sorry, Albert. I thought you knew all about it. She and a Captain Mike Conrad were married Saturday, I guess."
"Did they tell you where they were headed?"
"They took off for Los Angeles early Saturday. Suzy told Dad she wanted to take a honeymoon and she wanted to borrow the plane. Her husband is an airline pilot."
"Well, they never got to Los Angeles," Albert shouted, then he caught himself. "What I mean, Jack, is that I just got a call from Conrad's boss in Los Angeles. Conrad never arrived, or if he did, he hasn't reported in."
"Seems normal enough for a man on his honeymoon, don't you think, Al?"
"I don't think it's very goddamn normal at all. Suzy never mentioned knowing any pilots, much less enough to marry one."
"I'm sure you know as little as possible about Suzy, despite your efforts, Al. Anything Suzy wants kept private, she keeps private," retorted Jack.
"Look, Jack, I'll call you later, as soon as I find out where they've got the airplane. Okay?"
Jack chuckled, "Okay, big brother," and he hung up.
This time Albert Hinman dropped the phone onto its cradle. He was in no mood for thoughtful cogitation. Running across the study, he picked up his coat and left the apartment.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Mary and Lou returned to their places in the airport lounge. They continued drinking, very steadily, very silently for a long time, but they were not getting any drunker.
"This is ridiculous, Lou."
"Yes," Lou answered, looking directly into Mary's eyes, "this is indeed ridiculous. Let's fuck."
Mary inhaled her cigarette and blew the smoke out into Lou's face. "Let's drink first." And so they drank two more, each knowing that the booze would not help one damned bit in making love nor in finding the missing Mike Conrad. Nevertheless the thought of a toss in the hay grew in their minds, each conjuring one more erotic detail after the other in their respective minds until Mary felt a damp hot throb between her legs and Lou's trousers began to noticeably bulge at the crotch.
"I've had enough to drink," Lou said. "I think it's time to fuck."
"Don't be vulgar, Lou. But I agree. How about, that neat little motel over on Sepulveda?"
"I'm not familiar with it," he said, looking at her with a puzzled expression. "What's so special about it?"
"It's got mirrors, even on the ceiling."
Lou laughed, shook his head slowly and then rose from the table. "Well, let's not keep the damned mirrors waiting. But you'll have to drive. I can't find my keys. Which is probably a good thing. I simply can't drive."
"The mirrors do wonders for your libido, my dear. I've known very old men who have gotten it way up just by watching themselves being blown in a mirror."
"Come, wench, let's us to the mirrors and give ourselves a show. And, by the way, to hell with Mike Conrad and his paramour."
Lou paid the tab and led Mary out of the lounge, he wavering ever so slightly, but well in control of Mary who had a firm hand on his elbow.
"Are you drunk ?" she asked.
"Ridiculous," he slurred. "But I notice a slight veer in the left aileron. Shit!"
Mary nodded and pushed him toward her car, parked conveniently near the VIP parking strip. Veering as he was, he nevertheless managed to get into the passenger side of her car and look reasonably sober. "Drive on, wench. I'm anxious to partake of those mirrored halls in the name of eroticism."
"Steady, lad," Mary said, placing her right hand over his bulging crotch. "It's only a few minutes away, and, damn, but I do need you now."
She drove with one hand until they were out of the airport traffic and into the freeway. And when she took her hand away, Lou tried to put it back. "Plenty of time for that, sir," she said, refusing to let go of the steering wheel.
Mary hadn't told Lou, but she should have. The motel was not exactly what he had been accustomed to. The place was a dump and the pain in Lou's eyes was all too visible. Mary registered for them and drove around to the back and parked.
"Take this," she said, handing Lou an overnight case.
"Damn. Are we planning to stay forever in this godforsaken place? I thought you just wanted a plain and simple fuck."
"There's nothing plain and simple about fucking, darling. Come on, let's try the mirrors."
"And the suitcase?"
"I think you'll like what it contains. Just a few items to keep fucking far from plain and simple. Now get in," she added as she opened the door to number nine.
It was dark, damned dark, but Mary altered it just a trifle by turning on the only light in the room. Lou took several minutes adjusting to the dimness. Then he moved over to the bed and tested the bounce. "Not bad. Not bad at all. Get naked, my love and let's do it with mirrors."
Mary had anticipated him and was already down to her panties and stockings by the time he said anything. In another instant she was completely naked, save for the high heels which she put back on. He didn't have to say it, but Lou liked the added attraction and wondered if she would do much damage to his back if she wore her heels to bed. Quickly he stripped out of his clothing and stretched out on the bed, only then catching the sight of his body in the reflection of the mirror overhead. It was dark blue glass, but he could see clearly enough his entire body from head to toes.
"Just keep looking at the ceiling," Mary said as she climbed onto the bed with him. "It's a great turn-on. I love it."
She looked down at his softly relaxed face, took a longer look at his eyes and then lowered her mouth to his, her moist lips surrounding his for a moment before she spread his lips with her tongue and pushed into the warm hollow of his mouth. He sucked her tongue into his mouth, flicking the tip of it with his own. She settled her tits down on his chest and slowly drew her legs up over his, rubbing her crotch slowly over his genitals. She felt his hardness press insistently against her, but she moved.
"You kiss with considerable ardor," Lou said.
"I like it. Do it again."
Mary shook her head. "Not now. Right now I want something a little heavier than your tongue." She scooted down the length of his torso until she straddled his knees. Her head was inches from his cock. "Umm. You have a very great-looking cock, Mister Kovacs. But I imagine that all the girls tell you that." He didn't answer, but his hands reached down and guided Mary's face down to the great-looking cock. She wagged her head and he let go. "Don't be in such a rush. I know what to do."
Her hands were cool as they slid over his belly and between his legs. Mary adjusted herself, spreading his legs apart and pushing his knees up. Then she mopped his crotch with her hair, bringing her mouth slowly up his thigh until she could suck his testicles into her mouth. She heard his moan of tantalizing pleasure, that peculiar kind of supreme touchiness that almost borders on pain. But Mary was an expert. She knew just how long to hold his nut between her teeth. She would not hurt him. Her hand was around the base of his cock and while her mouth worked on his testicles, she could feel the throb of excitement in the engorged thickness of his manhood. She liked the feel of it very much. When his balls were heavily wet with her saliva, she lowered her mouth farther and blew a warm jet of air into his rectum.
He winced at the strange feeling, but groaned loudly and reluctantly when her tongue insinuated itself into the tight hole. His body began to tremble with an excitement that he had never known before, not even in his wildest days in the Orient. "Christ, Mary, stop. Damn it stop. Ooh."
She pulled her face away from his bottom and lowered her mouth over the head of his swollen prick. Her lips stretched wide to take the hot meat, but she was up to the task, her mouth wet and hot and almost scalding as it came in contact with his dry, throbbing cock. She ran her tongue around that plum of sensation, her spittle wetting it thoroughly. She let her saliva trickle down his shaft, lubricating it for her real onslaught.
Lou's hands again cupped her head, but this time she didn't mind. The head of his cock was in her mouth, and she could have pulled away, but the gentle presence of his hands made her feel that she was being forced. And that was what she really liked. She lingered longer than she would have with just the head of his penis between her lips and her tongue gently playing a tripping tune around it. She wanted him to push her face down so that the entire length of his massive cock would fill her mouth, so that the plum-head thickness of him would stick into the bottom of her throat. But Lou was not that way. He rested his hands on her head, but he was reluctant to push her down any further.
It was a game of sorts, and Mary was the first to give in. She stretched her mouth wider and lowered her head until the head of his cock lodged in the back of her throat. She held it there for a moment before twisting from side to side and bringing her head up. She let his cock throb in the cool air of the motel room for a split second as she caught her breath and then she was at it again. Down, down, down until the thick knob was at just the right point at the back of her throat. She swallowed, contracting her throat around the hot knob of his cock. Lou groaned his delight at her oral talents, raising his hips off the bed to meet her ministrations.
Lou found that the reflection overhead was indeed as powerful a stimulant as Mary had said it would be. For several minutes as her tantalizing mouth played upon his prick he watched the reflection, thinking that it was almost like a movie. The picture of Mary's head bobbing up and down over his cock seemed like it was someone else, but the sensations were all his. And then he noticed something that he would never have seen without the mirrors. Mary was wriggling her ass almost in rhythm with her head. He got the message and tried to pull her bottom up over his face so that he could lick her cunt.
Mary shook her head in negative response, but she wouldn't let go of his cock. Lou tried again, telling her that he would like to eat her.
"Not now," she said after pulling her mouth off his cock. "Just lay still and let me do my thing."
"Okay, okay," he said, and his hands went down to her hair. There was no need to guide Mary, however, as her mouth had already sucked in the stiff shaft of his cock. Lou settled back, letting the natural course of his orgasm build as he watched himself in the mirrors overhead. Now, damn it, he thought, it's coming. He moaned and thrust his penis deeper into her throat.
Mary knew that it was coming soon. Her fingers worked down between his buttocks and, still wet with saliva, she shoved her finger into his asshole. Lou winced at the sudden attack, but could do nothing about it. It really felt very fine, he thought, and Mary knew it. She wriggled the finger up higher, pressing finally against his prostate which she rubbed slowly and gently. Lou's semen erupted up his cock and shot down her throat. It was an orgasm to remember and Mary sucked it all down, lingering slowly over the head of his cock as she swallowed each drop. Lou pushed at her head, but she remained there, holding his penis between her lips until she felt it soften.
"Wow, you really unloaded that time."
"And where did you learn that little stunt?"
"In nurses' training. And then, my father was a proctologist. You like that prostate massage, don't you?"
"Not for a steady habit," he said, pulling her up to his face. She snuggled close, running her fingers into the hair on his chest. "I think you've finished me for a little while."
"I know, but there are ways to compensate," she said, gently blowing in his ear. He got the message and slid his arm out from under her.
"Your turn, my dear," he said, pushing his body down to the foot of the bed. "Open up, baby, I feel a strange hunger about to engulf me."
Mary giggled and spread her legs wide, the moist pink center of her womanhood opening like a flower. She held her long tapered legs high in the air and waited for Lou's caress. He seemed to wait for an interminable time, she thought, and she couldn't wait. Her hands touched the back of his head and cupped his ears. She pulled his face into the steamy center of her excitement and sighed deeply when Lou's tongue tripped lightly over her clitoris. She released his head and let him eat her box, twisting slightly this way and that to better guide him to the mark. She closed her eyes and felt the orgasm building rapidly as it always did with her. She was a no-nonsense type, wanting that first orgasm as quickly as possible. The others would come slower and would be delightfully longer, but the first, she knew, had to come as quickly as possible. And quickly it came, that buttock-tightening, gut-churning first orgasm. She cried out and clamped her legs around Lou's head, muffling the sounds of. her heavy breathing with the firm soft pillows of her thighs. Lou lashed his tongue up and down her moist slit a few more times before she pushed his head away.
"Oh, Mr. Kovacs, you eat very nicely," Mary purred. "There's a bottle in my night case. Want to fix a couple of drinks?"
"You are indeed a dear thing to have along.
You seem to think of everything."
Mary laughed. "There's more than just a bottle in that case, honey. Take some of the toys out, too."
Lou opened the luggage and removed the bottle of Scotch and then laughed. He held the plastic vibrator up and waved it around. "For lonely nights?"
"For busy ones. Bring it here and I'll show you as soon as you fix a drink."
Lou flipped the device over to the bed and poured a couple of fingers of Scotch into two tumblers. He sat on the edge of the bed and sipped the whiskey while Mary turned on the device and ran it over his shoulders and down his spine. "I think I see what you mean," he said, squirming away from her. "But wait a minute, baby, I'm still too pooped."
"I'll give you five minutes, Mister, and then I'll make you very ready." Mary sipped her drink and put the tumbler down on the nightstand. "First, I want to take a quick shower. Care to join me?"
Lou finished his drink and followed her swiveling hips into the bath. In the steamy hot water, Lou suddenly found that he would not require the allotted five minutes to recuperate. He was up and pressing the head of his cock between deeply dimpled cheeks. She was all soapy and slippery, but she felt him hard and hot behind her. Mary's butt twitched, clamping his knob between her firm melons. "Let me get this soap off," she said, turning around under the water. It provided Lou with the opportunity to play with her hard nipples before running his fingers through her damp triangle. "Hurry up," she said, stepping out of the shower.
Lou turned a couple of times in the stinging spray and shut it off. Mary was standing there on the bathmat, dripping and making no attempt to dry herself off. "Don't use the towel. Let's fuck while we're nice and hot and wet."
Again Lou followed her gyrating rear back to the bed. Mary jumped on it, rolling over on her back and opening her legs wide. "I'm ready, darling," she sighed. "Shove it in. Hurry. Hurry."
He climbed between her still damp legs, found the hot, moist center and poked his huge cock into her. She moaned in delight and wrapped her legs around his back, digging her heels into the small of his back and began a wild rotating motion that jammed her clit against his pelvis as her butt came off the mattress. In and out, he slipped his tool, gently at first and then with great vigor. Mary's mouth fastened onto the flesh of his shoulder and then his chest. He moved his arms to let her pull her legs up and around his neck, bending herself over almost double.
It was a strenuous way to copulate, but Mary wanted to feel that super-stuffed sensation his big cock gave her in that position. She felt like she was riding a telephone pole and she loved it, feeling her orgasm coming slowly from the tips of her toes and swelling in the soft roundness of her belly. She squeezed her thighs together and felt Lou's hairy weight against the soft flesh of her upper legs. It was coming faster than she had imagined, but she didn't let it stop nor try to slow it down. Now, she said to herself, now, and moaned against his chest as the thrills shot through her in waves, sharp in the center and rolling all over her in ever lessening vibrations. She came down slowly, unwinding her legs from around Lou.
Lou rolled over her leg and pulled out of her vagina. He was still rigid. Mary nuzzled closer to him, feeling all soft and used up for the moment. "I see you need some attention," she whispered, her hand snaking down and grasping the shaft of his cock. She stroked it up and down for a minute and felt it grow even hotter and more rigid. Again she lowered her face down to his crotch and took the head of his cock into her mouth. She felt a new twinge of desire well up inside her belly as she tasted her own juices still clinging to Lou's penis. She worked her mouth around and over, in and out she let his cock slip between her wet lips. She straddled his knees as she worked his cock with her head.
"Stop it," Lou moaned, not really wanting her to stop at all. But she did and climbed up and slipped her wet cunt down over his manhood. She rode out several more orgasms of her own before she felt Lou's cock erupt inside her. She fell over him and they both slept for an hour before resuming the same program of sexual activities, adding some variations with Mary's toys, the vibrator and a couple of dildos.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mike watched Suzy's slow walk across the bedroom toward the bath. Her hips were a study in fluid sensuality. The firm, creamy flesh of her buttocks stretched taut, revealing the thousand convolutions of the underlying muscles. He whistled.
"You look better from behind than you do from that fabulous front, my darling, but let me see a little more clearly. Turn around."
Suzy turned obediently, but slowly so that Mike could savor her delights, the full upstanding tits and the soft down between her legs. He had just made love to her and suddenly he wanted her again. He took in with his eyes what his entire body had been enjoying for what seemed like a very long time, and still he thought he could not get enough of her. It pleased her more than she could ever tell him that he liked to look at her naked body. She moved her hips slowly in a roll, bumping forward and back in mock lovemaking.
"Better from the front?"
"Hard to tell," he grinned. "I guess I'll just have to take both sides, since I can't make up my mind."
"Idiot," she said and turned around and walked toward the bathroom. Her more rapid gait to the bathroom made the firm round cheeks of her ass bob provocatively up and down, giving Mike an immediate erection. He knew what he would do with the girl next and the thought of it excited him more than he could admit.
Jumping out of bed, he followed Suzy into the bathroom, sneaking up behind her and crushing her into his arms, his hands busily brushing back the damp hair of her pussy and his fingers insinuating itself onto her clit. "Not so fast, you little tease. I think we ought to finish a few more things. Things like this," he added pushing his hardened meat against her back.
"Umm, yes," she said, turning slowly in his arms and then pushing him back. Her hands reached down and fondled his huge cock and his balls. She squeezed the former at its base and cupped the latter in the palm of her warm hand. She held him like that for a minute and then settled herself down on the edge of the big sunken tub. "The water's just right, lover. Want to get in?"
Still holding him gently, she guided Mike to the edge of the tub and let go of him only when he pushed away from her, letting the warm, scented water cover his entire body. Suzy dangled her feet over the edge and waited until he came back to her. "Sit up here," she said, jumping into the water herself.
Mike obeyed, sitting on the edge of the sunken tub that was more like a miniature swimming pool than anything else, and dangling his legs in the water. Suzy pushed his knees apart and lowered her mouth over his cock. He loved it but it was not exactly what he had had in mind, but there was no stopping her greedy lips then. She sucked on the head of his cock, her lips fastened around the outside of his knob like a spongy hot ring and her tongue slashing away rapidly on his throbbing meat He wanted to scream with the pleasure of it, but she changed her tempo at that moment and sucked in almost the entire length of his cock, her teeth scraping maddeningly down the sides of his shaft
Nor were her hands idle, either. She pulled Mike forward until he was half laying over the edge and then he realized what she wanted. He eased himself over further until she stopped him and he could feel the gentle slosh of water right to his balls as Suzy continued to bob her head up and down over his taut cock. She rubbed his thighs and opened them 'way apart before shoving her finger up his ass. Mike moaned but said nothing, knowing that the little cunt would be getting hers very shortly. He loved it and, though he had never asked, felt sure that Suzy would respond the same way that Janet so long ago in the back of the cargo plane had. Had it really been that long ago?
A particularly thrilling sensation up his ass and over his cock sent the thought of Janet reeling from his mind. There was nothing to compare with it, the way Suzy could suck a cock, and then he felt it building deep down where her fingernail brushed ever so gently against his prostate. When he came in her mouth he felt so weakened for a minute that he had to hold onto the edge of the tub.
"That's something else, baby," he said, finally slipping easily into the water when she had released his soft cock from her tight lips. "Haven't had that done to me since Korea, or was it Tokyo?"
"Neat, isn't it? My friend Mary told me about that one. Drives everyone crazy." "Girls too?"
Suzy gave him a funny look, but she didn't seem shocked by what he had implied. "I never tried it on a girl, but then there would hardly be a reason for that, would there?"
Mike sloshed around the tub for a few minutes, helping Suzy scrub her back and giving her crotch a very particularly attentive bathing. She was already getting hot again, he noted, and wondered if she would remember what he had said in passing about girls.
They bathed for ten minutes and climbed out of the tub, warm, wet and scented very faintly with the most erotic odor Mike ever imagined. Even as they were drying each other, his cock came up and up with each tiny ministration Suzy bestowed upon it with the rough towel.
"This is ready again," she smiled, squeezing it through the fabric. "I know just the thing."
"So do I," Mike said as they returned to the big bed. "How about turning over?"
"Get some of the oil first, darling," she said, languorously spreading herself over the bed, on her back, however. Mike smiled down at her and went back to the bathroom where he found the body oil. This was a very experienced girl, indeed, he thought.
"Wait a minute, Mike," Suzy purred, "aren't you forgetting something?"
He looked down at her for a moment and laughed. "You want to be eaten again, don't you?"
"Please darling. You do it so very damned well. Then you can do whatever you want to with me."
Mike pulled one of the huge pillows from the floor where it had fallen during an earlier love match and adjusted it under Suzy's ass, spreading her legs wide at the same time and bringing her close to the edge of the bed. Then he sank his tongue into her dewy slot, slicing up her channel until his tongue stabbed her throbbing clit. She squealed with delight. "Not so fucking hard, darling. Oh, yes, that way. That way."
He slurped her pussy for fifteen minutes, letting her have the ten or twenty orgasms that his tongue brought to her love crease. He was getting hotter and hotter and so much the better, he thought, to impale her sizzling bottom. His tongue flicked down on her clit for a long, sucking and licking pull before she clamped her thighs around his head and shuddered her last orgasm.
Suzy had never been buggered. She knew what it was as she knew everything there was to know about sensuality. Oh, it wasn't completely true that she had never been buggered, if one considered that time her friend Mary had used that little vibrating dildo on her while they were eating each other. But never by a man, and for an instant she almost regretted her permission to let Mike, with his massive manhood, invade her there. But she was weak now, forgivingly weak and feeling so permissive that he could have fucked her under the armpit.
Mike rolled her over onto her belly and pulled her down to the edge of the bed, dropping her knees to the floor. Suddenly Suzy felt very vulnerable and small as the big man behind her slowly rubbed the oil over her ass, gradually slopping some into her anus and working his finger round and round there. There was no pain, and Suzy had frankly been expecting some. Mike's finger was thicker than the thin dildo that Mary had used on her. It prepared her only slightly for the suddenly thicker, much thicker, entrance of Mike's cock. She winced and tried to pull forward, but the edge of the bed prevented it. She gasped as she felt her anus stretch, but she didn't cry out. She didn't cry out because the scream that had formed in her throat stopped as she felt Mike's oily cock, his long fat manhood press up her rectum without a single pause. Her breath had been taken away by the suddenness of his attack and yet there had been no real pain.
Mike eased his slippery penis out of her for half his length before slowly plunging back into her tight little rosebud hole. Suzy was gasping and he was certain that he had hurt her, asked her when he stopped for an instant, and continued on when she said he wasn't.
Suzy felt herself being pushed into the edge of the bed with Mike's weight full into her rear. It no longer gave her the gasping surprise that it had in the initial strokes, and she relaxed, letting the strange new feeling run through her body, letting her sensuous mind seek out the level of erotica that this method of making love was supposed to have. Her nerves tingled from her toes to her nipples as he continued the massive in and out movements. Her stretched asshole was now loose enough for him to increase the tempo without giving her any sort of pain at all and, yes, she thought, there was pleasure there, subtle but pleasure nevertheless, and she let herself become part of it, felt it and savored it even in her pussy which had been so beautifully licked minutes before. She began to moan louder then, moan with that familiar climaxing cry she always had when something particularly beautiful was happening to her. And yet that beautiful orgasm was just inches away. She knew she could not make it the way Mike was giving it to her.
"Oh, Mike, please. Do it the other way. I need it there. I need it now."
Mike pushed down harder into her ass and listened to what she was saying. Perhaps, he thought, perhaps it would not be the same for her as it had been for Janet. And with the thought of Janet, he pulled himself back and slowly out of her ass. Suzy remained in the same position as Mike stood up and went into the bathroom.
She was still that way when he came back, fresh from a quick bath. "Same way? At least in the same position, I take it."
"Jesus, yes, you bastard. Ram in me, please." Mike leaned back into the deep pillows, recalling the wild trip across the Gulf and overland to Mexico City. He looked up at the rococo bedroom decorations all around him in the guest bedroom, actually a suite, of Senor Carlos P. Sosa's mansion. Cupids flitted across the ceiling, aiming their penis-shaped love arrows at the embracing couple in the forest glade scene just above the dressing table. Mike laughed, remembering that this particular scene was, if not exactly art gallery material, at a little more in line" than most of the decor in Sosa's home.
No detail of erotica had been spared by the enterprising Senor Sosa. Doorknobs were beautifully fashioned brass replicas of women's breasts. The fixtures in the bathroom were male organs. But what really floored Mike were the three servants, all girls, all stunningly beautiful and all very naked all the time. Mike had some difficulty keeping his hands to himself when he first met them, at least for the first few hours.
Suzy of course, had been highly amused. She had found in Carlos Sosa a kindred spirit, a throwback, she mused, to her lusty old grandfather. Sosa was handsome, not quite fifty, Suzy estimated, and well worth trying .out in the sack. She had been steered away from that idea, however, as Mike pointed out the foolishness of mixing business with pleasure.
They had been in Mexico two and a half days, but it was only the previous night that they had been able to get to bed. The indefatigable Senor Sosa never seemed to need any sleep, but after he had shown them the sights of the city, both the high and the low, the stag movies, the queers, the live acts, and even an animal sex act with a beautiful young Negress, Suzy and Mike had begged off a second round. But that had been after they went to special kind of prize fight, where two beautiful women, stark naked, wrestled and boxed, while the audience made bets with a floating bookie, to the very end. The defeated girl, a delicious although very bloody-nosed wench, then serve! up the price by eating her victorious opponent, all to the cheering encouragement of the crowd, especially the winners.
Perhaps in a less democratic era, Carlos Sosa would have been Don Carlos to a household of fawning servants and the masses in the streets. His bearing was the aristocratic tallness of the completely confident, the well satisfied, and the more than comfortably wealthy. Carlos was that in the present time, but Mike speculated about how it might have been a hundred, even fifty years earlier. The present-day Don Carlos, however, preferred to keep his easy manners and wealth relatively quiet and well within the confines of his home.
Sitting in the study later that morning, Sosa told Mike a little of himself. He owned no Rolls Royce, no country estates, no yachts, and no "regular" businesses. His money, he said, came from investments, stocks, bonds, even a stable of winning thoroughbreds which he never bothered to look at. The secret, he said, was to have completely trustworthy employees, and these he had in abundance.
"So you see, Mike," he continued, "there is no need for me to dabble in the petty squabbles of everyday life. I have my little art treasures; my business interests take care of themselves."
"Don't you ever get just plain bored of it all?" Mike countered.
"Come now, capitain. Who could possibly get bored with these beautiful art objects?" He asked the question meaning, Mike thought, all the art treasures in the room, but Sosa reached over and patted one of the nude girls on the behind. "I mean both the living and the static kind of art."
"I see what you mean."
Suzy entered then, dressed in a severely plain linen suit that smacked only of the most expensive. She wore a look of quiet humor as she came over and kissed first Mike and then Sosa.
"My darling," Sosa said, feigning much surprise, "I didn't even know you knew that I was alive, except for our little business transaction."
"Just a good morning, senor," she smiled.
"You have made it so, my dear," he replied gallantly, touching the spot where Suzy's lips had brushed his cheek.
"But you all must be starving after such a weekend, hey?" He turned to Maria who stood nearby unabashedly naked. "Maria, we'll have breakfast on the patio. You may serve any time."
Walking down the long hallway, Suzy and Mike were like a pair of tourists, heads whirling from side to side as they took in one erotic delight after another, listening as Senor Sosa rambled on in his cultured voice about the source and meaning of each of his acquisitions.
"And here," he said, pausing at an empty niche between a couple of statues, "is where the triptych you have so kindly offered will go. By the way," he smiled and turned to Suzy, "when may I see it?"
"Soon, senor," Suzy said. "Naturally, I want to arrange the business details first. The money, I mean. You understand?"
"But of course, my darling."
Breakfast was preceded by vintage champagne, an experience that Suzy had often enjoyed, but which left Mike somewhat on the woozy side before the coffee arrived. The wine did settle his queasy stomach, however, queasy from the fabulous Sosa nightlife and Suzy's own special kind of fabulous nights and mornings.
"Very good, champagne, for the ill effects of too much celebration." Carlos commented, sipping slowly. "Don't you agree, Capitan?"
"Excellent, sir, though I confess that I'm not much for good wine."
"It's as easy to appreciate as bad wine. Like women sometimes."
'Td rather not comment, senor," Mike said.
"He'd better not," Suzy added, glaring for a minute at both of the men.
The meal continued through coffee, crusty rolls and an array of ham, bacon, sausage, eggs, toast, a dozen varieties of jams and jellies to an even more elaborate tray of tiny pastries. Mike and Suzy ate with the gusto of two very healthy and sexy animals.
Sosa smiled at their beautiful appetites. He himself was content with another bottle of champagne and a single cup of coffee and an unbuttered roll.
Somewhere before the second pastry, Mike caught the sound of a phone ringing in the house. Within minutes, Maria came out to the patio, carrying an extension phone with a plug which, she connected to the outlet on the wall.
"Senorita, it is a call for you from Miami, Florida. Will you take it here?"
"Me? Yes, I'll take it here," Suzy said, surprised that she should get a call at all.
Maria placed the phone on the table and carried away some of the used dishes on her way back to the house. Suzy held her hand over the mouthpiece and said, "Now who could be calling me here?"
The connection was made. "Hello. Oh, Jackson. He did. Well, you know how it is. Yes, we're having a wonderful time. I'm sorry about that. I know we should have told you, but we didn't think anyone should know right away. No, especially not Albert."
She listened and her face grew worried. "You did? Well, I guess there's nothing to do about it. Thanks for calling, Jack, we'll get the plane back right away."
"Bad news, my dear?" Carlos asked.
"No, it's nothing." Suzy turned to Mike. "Mike, we've got to do something." She broke off and turned to Sosa. "Senor, would you excuse us for a moment? We'll go to the study. I have something to say to the captain."
"Certainly, my dear. I understand, but I hope that there's no trouble. Is there?"
Suzy shook her head and got up from the table, followed by Mike. They walked quickly into the study.
"What's up, doll?"
"Oh, Mike. Albert knows we're down here. Jackson just got a call from one of his business associates here, saying that he had seen the plane, but couldn't reach his father at the usual hotel.
After checking around, he discovered that the Smithsons were not in Mexico City. He called Jackson this morning. He said the airport manager saw us meet Senor Sosa and he's been trying to get hold of us for hours, ever since he called Albert."
"So what? We'll just drop the merchandise and get back to L.A. So don't worry, my little pet."
"But, Mike, Albert has friends down here. He's probably called them and they're looking for us and the damned thing right now. Let's get the thing settled right away."
"You know where it is?"
"Certainly. It's on the plane. Oh, Mike, that would be the first place those hoods would look, wouldn't it?"
"Correct. Let's get out of here. They may not have reached it yet."
They made some hasty explanations to Sosa and borrowed one of his cars for the quick trip to the airport. It was nearly four in the afternoon. Christ, Mike thought, we must have had breakfast about the time even Mexico's late-rising citizens were having lunch. And that meant that Suzy's brother had had more than enough time to inform the entire Mexican underworld or whatever group of friends he had south of the border.
The airport was crowded, but they found the valet parking area and walked through the terminal toward the private plane section. The people looked the same to Mike, business types, just like any airport anywhere in the world, the worried faces of patient passengers waiting for a plane to take off or the more anxious ones who waited for someone to arrive. He took in the typical scene at a single glance.
Holding a side door for Suzy, Mike looked more carefully around him. He was right. It wasn't unexpected, but he was shook. A couple of them wore the trademark of their profession, light raincoats, slouch hats. It was so obvious that Mike almost burst out laughing. It was not, however, a time for laughter. Despite their dress, Mike felt that they were more than capable of being very damned tough to anyone who got in their way.
"What's funny?"
"Nothing at all, baby, and don't look right away, but those two characters standing by the main entrance are obviously the ones your brother sent after us. Dig the trench coat scene."
"I see what you mean," she murmured as she turned slowly and took in the pair. The men had not caught sight of Mike and Suzy, but Mike was going to take no chances. Instead of heading through the executive plane entrance, he closed the door and led Suzy back outside and around the building to the maintenance department.
The guard there was a little huffy, but finally he let them through when Mike produced his papers. Quickly they hurried across the field to where the Aero Commander was parked. Evidently the two hoods had not been told to keep an eye on the plane. Apparently they must have thought that it would be much easier to pick up Mike and
Suzy at the front door, along with the package. It was a neat piece of luck, Mike thought.
Opening the hatch, Mike took out the boxed parcel. It was heavy, but whoever had secured it had done so with a very heavy line. Slamming the hatch closed, he said, "Let's go, baby. We've got the merchandise."
Coming back through the maintenance entrance was not as easy as getting in. The guard stopped them again, wanting to know what was in the heavy package.
"Aircraft parts that need repairing," Mike said.
"But, senor, we have excellent facilities right here at the field. No need to take it outside, hey ?"
"This is a special set of parts that only the factory representative here can fix. You understand ? It cannot be fixed on the field. Needs special equipment. Comprende?"
Mike was not certain at all that his busted Spanish was getting through. He was getting a little bit frantic. Those characters would have been tipped by now that they had been at Sosa's place and would be looking for Sosa's car. And then, too, they might just decide to take a look around the building and check the plane.
"I know, senor, but I cannot allow any merchandise to leave the field. I don't know but what you have some sort of contraband in that heavy box. No?"
"No. Look, it's just a special . . ."
Suzy cut him off by stepping in front of him. Holding out a crisp twenty dollar bill, she offered it to the guard, putting on her best vamp smile at the same time.
"Ah, senorita. I see that you understand the problem. I am afraid that I make mistake. Please continue, captain, with my compliments." He bowed, stuffing the bill into his shirt and tipping his hat.
Out on the ramp, waiting for a taxi, Mike heaved a sigh of relief. He could have saved it. Standing not more than fifty feet from him and Suzy were Lou Kovacs, Janet Milbourne, and her father. Mike gulped, looked frantically around and dragged Suzy into the nearest cab. That it was already occupied by a little old businessman did not bother Mike at all. He bodily helped the man out of the cab, dumping his suitcase beside him. "Thanks, buddy. She's pregnant, emergency, you know." But the traffic was moving at a snail's pace. The cab moved a few feet and stopped again.
"Senor, emergency or no, I get into much trouble if you throw out passengers who are already in the taxi." The cabbie had seen through the rear-view mirror what Mike did not see. The occupant who had been displaced so unceremoniously by Mike and Suzy was talking excitedly to a policeman and pointing toward their cab.
Mike turned around. "Oh no!" The policeman and the little man were walking toward the cab, the little man gesticulating wildly and pointing and trying to urge the cop to a quicker pace. "Can't you get us out of here?" Mike asked. "There's a ten spot in it for you if you do, maybe more." He had spoken the magic words. Just as the cop and the man were near, the traffic opened, and the cab leaped forward, leaving the law and the irate citizen sputtering angry oaths.
As the cab rolled into the traffic flow, Suzy turned to Mike. "I think I saw Lou Kovacs standing back there. Did you?"
"Oh, baby. Did I. Not only Lou, but my girl friend and her father. The problem there, of course, is that her father is the chairman of the board of O'Keefe Charter Air. In other words, he's even more my boss than my boss. Also, he doesn't like me. I wonder what in hell they're doing down here?"
Suzy snuggled closer to Mike, batted her eyes and opened her lips, "They're probably looking for us, darling. I bet big brother just told all over that we ran away to get married. And from the brief look I had at your friend, I'd say you were in for a little fight, maybe a breach of promise thing. Or don't they do that anymore?"
Mike said nothing. He was sure that the Mil-bournes and Lou had not seen him, but then he could be wrong. The cab continued out of the airport area and into the mainstream of traffic heading for the city. He started to give himself another sigh of relief, but changed his mind. They were still not out of it, not by a long shot. He pulled Suzy closer, cupping her right breast for reassurance as he kissed her.
"Well, where to, senor?"
Mike and Suzy looked at each other. They couldn't very well return to Sosa's place, not with the damned thing still unpaid for. Suzy sat up.
"The Del Prado."
"Si, senorita."
"Why there?" Mike wanted to know. "That's one of the biggest places in town. Those hoods of your brother's will know you always go to the best."
"So? Actually, it's good they know. They'll come looking for us there, and then we can find out what they look like for sure. I like to know who's chasing me."
"Wisdom, baby. I wish I had some of it"
Suzy snuggled close to Mike again and they drove on to the hotel in silence.
Lou Kovacs had looked away almost as soon as he saw Suzy and Mike. He was surprised to find them so close, especially since Mike was supposed to be among the missing. A good thing, he thought, that neither Janet nor her father had seen them. The older man was still in a rage, although by this time he had managed to keep control of his facial coloring. Janet was simply plain and simple mad, as only a rebuffed broad can be. Kovacs didn't envy Mike's position just then.
"Well, where is that goddam car?" Harry Milbourne was indeed still angry and he glared his emotions at Kovacs.
"I called, sir. Should be here any minute."
Suzy's guess about her brother telling all over that she and Mike had eloped was quite correct. Albert Hinman had wasted no time in getting in touch with O'Keefe's president and telling him that Suzy was still under his guardianship and, furthermore, that if she and Mike really did get married, there would be hell to pay. He, Albert Hinman, had influential friends who just might take a notion to investigate O'Keefe Charter Air. Sam O'Keefe just listened and then told the angry Hinman that he was very sorry but that Mike Conrad was no longer working for O'Keefe and that he really hoped that he would find his sister.
Milbourne was in the room at the time, too. He had returned to Sam's office after notifying his own office that he would be gone for a few days, Sam explained. The old man was not pleased. Lou had not been in the office at the time of Hinman's call, but the public address system found him quickly enough. He had not been too certain just why in hell an important man like Harry Milbourne was taking such an interest in a missing pilot, but from the tear-reddened eyes of Janet he suspected that the girl had been crying on Daddy's shoulder. He further surmised that the old saying about a woman scorned had something to do with his flying the Milbournes, father and daughter, down to Mexico City.
Drawing deeply on his cigarette, Lou took the glare from the old man with the same stoic expression with which he had faced other irate commanders. Mexico City was not like this the last time I was here, he thought. At last the rental car pulled up to the curb beside them.
"Well, get in and drive, young man," Milbourne said, breaking into what might have a pleasant reverie for Lou. He didn't bother asking the old man where to go. Harry Milbourne was not the type to stay anywhere but at the very best in town. Lou drove directly to the Del Prado. They arrived five minutes after Suzy and Mike.
"Well," Harry Milbourne said, softening somewhat, "at least you know where to take someone in this town. Sorry to be so gruff, but every time I think of flyers, I get all het up again. That lousy son of a bitch."
"Dad, please. I'm going up to change. Why don't you two go and have a drink? I'll join you in thirty minutes or so."
"Good idea," said Milbourne. "C'mon, Kovich. Let's try their marguerites."
"The name's Kovacs, sir, but you can call me Lou."
"Of course. Kovacs, huh? Sorry about that."
Lou shrugged. Obviously the Harry Milbournes of the world did not call anyone but business equals and close members of the family by their first names. Lou thought that he would far rather be back at that mirrored ceiling motel in Los Angeles with Mary than going into a fancy hotel bar with Harry Milbourne.
They ordered Scotch and water after taking one look at the strictly tourista marguerita that was being served at the table next to theirs. Milbourne nodded at Lou's good sense and turned his attention to the crowds in the bar. He looked like he wanted to find someone very badly, and Lou suspected that he wanted to find Mike.
The silence was fine with Lou. He slipped back into his last moments with Mary, driving back down the freeway, he at the wheel and she down in his lap, her mouth very actively engaged. He came just as the airport turnoff came into view. It had been a very nice day.
CHAPTER NINE
Senor Sosa handed the receiver back to Maria who replaced it gently in its cradle. She was in her usual work uniform . . . stark naked. Carlos looked at her appreciatively, silently complimenting himself for the good judgment he had shown three years earlier when he took her off the streets and brought her into his house. She was thirteen at the time and would have been just another puta, he knew, had he not seen under the dirty rags the makings of a very beautiful woman. Now at sixteen, all that he had hoped for was there, and she was as ready for her initiation as any girl would ever be. It would be a moment for her to savor all her life.
"Is something the matter, Carlos?"
He shook his head. "No, no, my sweet," he said, smiling at the girl and stepping closer to her.
"Just a call from the two Americans, the ones with the art object I told you about." He put his arm around her waist and slid his hand down to the jet black triangle at the top of her thighs. She giggled when he inserted a finger in her snatch, pressing her pelvis hard against his big hand. "Not now, my pet. Run along and fetch me a bottle of cognac. I must first do some quiet thinking. We'll have time to bring you of age in a little while."
Maria blushed and turned away to do his bidding. She did not turn provocatively because it would have been completely unnecessary. When Carlos wanted to play, it would be time to play, when he wanted to be alone, it was best he was left alone. She knew that her time had come, and she knew that it would be very soon before the evening was very old. It both frightened and excited her more than anything in her life.
Carlos settled himself in the overstuffed leather chair, sniffing the aged cognac and occasionally taking a few drops of it onto his tongue. He was beginning to figure out the problem his friends had encountered. They wanted the money, but a nosy brother wanted the work of art, which meant, Carlos was certain, that the brother really wanted the money; too. Now the big brother had sicced a pair of hoods onto his friends, and they were afraid to come to his home. He knew, too, that he could not just take $100,000 in a shopping bag down to the Del Prado. Suppose he was stopped by the Federales as he so often was. He shuddered.
Best that the art came to Carlos. He would have to do something to allow the young people the freedom to come to him.
Being a manipulator of more than stocks and bonds, Sosa had his friends in that other business world, the darker one where no questions were asked. Reaching for the telephone, he dialed a number, waited patiently for an answer while he slowly swirled the golden liquid around in the crystal snifter. "That's why I have very trustworthy employees," he said to himself, recalling his earlier conversation with Mike Conrad.
"Mendez?" he said into the phone when it was at last answered. "Carlos. Have you anyone watching a couple of young Americans? Yes, that's the couple. Who? Oh, him. Look, Mendez, get hold of him immediately, tell him that I want those two young people left alone. Yes, tell him to call off his dogs.
"Why? But, Mendez, what a question. Because I tell you to. You need no other reason. Of course not. That's better, and call me as soon as you have told him." He did not say goodbye. Mendez was a good man, he thought, but he would have to get over the habit of asking questions. Only Carlos the boss, could ask questions. Lifting the snifter to his lips he drained the contents in a single swallow, something that he could abide in anyone else. And now, he thought with relish, to the main task for the day. Maria's time had come, and he remembered with some delight that she had seemed more than ready.
Just as he was about to leave, the phone rang. "Hello. This is Carlos." He listened, frowned for a moment and then his eyes lit up. "That's wonderful, Senor Conrad. I'm glad to hear that your shadows have disappeared. Perhaps you and the senorita would care to enjoy a little party I'm throwing tonight. It is something that I think you would both enjoy, and please, come for dinner. That's fine. I'll see you then."
He hung up, feeling a surge of well-being flow through his body. Yes, he thought, there is something here they would both certainly like. He laughed a whimsical snort that shaded over at the end into something entirely different. "Maria," he called, "it is time." There was no need to ask if the girls were ready. They were always ready. It was what he paid them for, among other things. Carlos entered the ornate bedroom, loosening his tie and watching the two older girls prepare the bed. Maria stood shyly aside, blushing and obviously just a trifle frightened. Very good, he mused, very good, indeed, so virginal.
When the bed was ready, the older girls helped Maria onto the center of the satin sheets. Then they turned to Carlos, kissing him wetly on each cheek as they began to undress him. Their fingers flew deftly at the buttons on his shirt, his trousers, his underclothing. In moments he was as naked as they. "Let the ceremony begin," he said, climbing onto the bed beside the blushing Maria. He touched her hot flesh and smiled.
The older girls disappeared for a few minutes as Carlos fondled the warm young flesh of Maria, but they returned shortly, bringing a steaming bowl of water, various bottles of lotion and a stack of towels. Placing the bowl near the bed, the girls dipped a couple of towels into the water after adding some heady liquid to it. The aroma filled the room, almost dizzyingly heady, but erotically powerful. Maria moaned as one of the girls began bathing her from head to foot, spreading her legs wide and applying the warm wet towel sensuously to her bottom, rolling her ass flesh like the firm bread dough it was.
The other girl manipulated Carlos in much the same way, using the scented towel to cradle his balls, but laving his cock with her mouth until he pushed her aside. The moisture and aroma penetrated into his flesh, making it tingle and leaving it in a state of heightened sensitivity. He looked down at the girl working on Maria and found her head buried in the girl's crotch. Maria cried with the ecstasy of it until Carlos pushed her away. "Patience, patience," he whispered to Maria, but the young girl clung to his chest, her lips anchored against his masculine nipple. He liked it.
In another moment one of the girls was finishing off his feet, wiping each toe carefully with the towel before sucking it into her mouth. It was Carlos' turn to moan. When she had finished with Carlos, she turned her attention to her partner and as Carlos pulled Maria gently toward the center of his manhood, the two girls bathed each other with pungent hot water. In a few more minutes they were tangled together at the foot of the bed, their faces buried in each other's crotches. Carlos and Maria watched for a minute before joining. He took her gently, easing his massive penis into her hot slit very slowly.
Maria was aflame. She was excited by the girls, excited by the knowledge that Carlos was about to take her, but when his enormous cock pressed at the lips of her cunt, she wanted to run. Impossible even if she had really wanted to leave. Carlos held her legs high in the air as his penis probed at the center of her womanhood. She felt his massive cock spread the lips of her wet pussy, felt the thick knob press in, pause, and then withdraw. She agonized as she waited for the final plunge of that shaft that would make her a woman, but still Carlos held her legs high and simply contented himself with short jabs that never really penetrated her the way she wanted to be penetrated. It was maddening and she knew that it would have to happen eventually. Now, now, she cried silently and heaved her hips forward, impaling herself on Carlos' cock. She had done to herself as Carlos had known she would. And once there, buried to the base of his long cock, he let her legs slip down, but the girl instinctively knew what to do. She wrapped them around her lover's body and fell into the classic gyrations of lovemaking.
In the meantime, the other girls had finished for the moment with each other and had aligned themselves alongside the lovers, their hands busy stroking the two heaving bodies. Their hands crept between the two, and delicate fingers fondled Carlos' balls and his anus. More fingers spread Maria's plump buttocks and worked up her ass. She squealed in delight and came with such violence that she almost fainted. She was exhausted and her legs dropped from Carlos' back and she went limp, her eyes glazed with the full light of complete satisfaction.
The other girls giggled as Maria sighed and closed her eyes. Carlos withdrew his stiff member from her tight hole between her legs and sat on the edge of the bed. The girls immediately fell to their knees, and bathed his genitals with the freshly wetted towels. When they finished, they spread his legs wide and settled between them, one mouth licking his balls, the other pair of lips firmly fastened over the knob of his cock. It took but minutes before he filled the girl's mouth with his long overdue ejaculation.
Much later, as Maria watched from her contented resting place, Carlos humped one girl from the rear as she in turn ate her partner's pussy. Carlos had wanted to tell Maria to join, but he knew that order would not please him. He wanted her to do it because she could no longer help herself, and he knew that she would not be able to hold out. He waited, plunging his long rod in and out of the well-used twat of his number two girl, her name he had forgotten. And, as he knew he would be, he was right. Maria, her breath coming faster and faster, finally moved toward the trio, shyly at first and then fully committed she straddled the face of the girl on her back.
Two hours later, freshly showered and shaved, Carlos greeted Suzy and Mike. "Come in, my friends. The wine is well chilled, and the food, I know, you will find to be excellent. And the special entertainment, well, what can I tell you? It will be something that will bring you back to Mexico City again and again, perhaps with your children."
Mike gave Suzy a funny look. They didn't understand, but they smiled at their host.
"Were you followed ?" Carlos whispered to Mike. The latter shook his head. "Splendid. But let's not talk in this drafty hall. And you must be starving. I know that I am. Come, come, friends, I have a very special dinner in honor of the evening, and also of tomorrow." He winked at Suzy, at least it was as much of a wink that the cultured and debonair Carlos could manage.
Seated in the deep leather lounge chairs, the three exchanged the events of the day. A naked Maria served the champagne in silence. The blush of her flesh had faded into a calm confidence but without any note of proprietorship toward Carlos. She was still Maria, the young maid, although no longer a maiden. In her head, as she poured the wine, were fantasies of what would follow after the Americans had left or gone to the guest room. Now that she had been fully awakened to the delights of a man's body, she wondered what the handsome American was like. She even dared to lift her dark eyes and stare when he was turned away from her. No, she thought, he was too thin. Not like my master. She pressed her thighs together involuntarily as she thought of Carlos' great cock. Tonight, she vowed to herself, she would use her mouth as the other girl had and the thought of it made her squeeze her legs together more tightly.
"This Senor Milbourne, Mike. He is after you?" Carlos asked.
"Actually, I think it's his daughter that's after me, but then I should have called her."
"I hope," Suzy said, with a cat who swallowed the canary look, "that she thinks we're married." Mike glared at her.
"The course of true love," Carlos didn't finish the clich�. Maria returned to the room, whispered something in her master's ear and vanished back to where she came from. "Shall we dine?"
They went into Carlos' formal dining room where an enormously long table commanded everyone's attention. There were only three settings, all close to the head of the table and, without direction, Suzy and Mike sat down on either side of Carlos. The girls, naked as ever, served more champagne before starting the meal. For Mike it was a pleasant surprise.
"I thought that you two would rather have just a very fine steak and a great salad," Carlos said with a big grin. "A real Mexican banquet would take much, much too long for such anxious lovers. And besides there is the special entertainment that the girls have rehearsed for such a long time. Ah!" he cried as Maria pushed in a charcoal brazier with three luscious steaks sitting on the sideshelf. "Rare? But of course." Maria put them on as Mike and Suzy nodded assent to the rare meat. One of the other girls filled large wooden bowls with their salad.
"Isn't that a little dangerous?" Suzy asked. "I mean broiling steak without clothes on."
"Take a look, my dear," Carlos said. "There are no scars on that delicious body, and she has cooked for me for a long time." He laughed and the Americans joined in, drinking their wine and digging into their salad.
The steaks were superb. The wine kept flowing, and when the meal was over, Carlos finally announced that the little entertainment was about to begin. "Something special that my girls have created," he said, smiling like the Cheshire cat. Mike and Suzy, woozy with wine, expected something very special.
They were disappointed. Knowing Carlos as they did, they both believed that they would see something very special, indeed. The sight of the three girls dressed in a very exotic primitive kind of costume was not exactly what Mike and Suzy had come to expect from Carlos. However, they were intrigued when the strange music filled the air, a recording that the girls had put on. Then they danced, and the Americans sat, drank, and finally began to understand the ritual that was taking place before them. It was a fertility dance, and the girls, in time with the haunting music, portrayed courtship, flirtation, and finally the consummation. Stilly Mike thought, he would have liked to see the girls strip down to their bare bodies once again. Each movement, Carlos explained, was a particular act of faith to the sun god. Mike nodded, not really understanding and not giving a damn. He refilled his glass at least a dozen times before the performance was over.
"Tomorrow, you will bring the object of my affection, si?"
"Si." Suzy kissed Carlos lightly on the cheek as they were leaving. "About what time?"
"Any time, my dear," Carlos said. "And, Senor Conrad, it is any time for you, too. My house is yours."
On the way back to the hotel, Mike laughed. "Holy Cow! That character Carlos is really something! Here he sits in a veritable palace of sexual pleasure and all he can offer his guests is a visit into the past with a performance of native dances. I was expecting a little more action than that."
"It figures," Suzy said. "But I liked it. I admit however, that I was a little shook seeing Marie with clothes on." They both laughed.
The cab pulled up to the Del Prado well after midnight, though late it was an hour that would have vied with any Main Street, U.S.A., at noon. The streets shimmered in the glow of a thousand neons, casting sometimes eerie colorations onto the faces of the milliner, constantly moving crowds. Mike and Suzy felt that electric charge that seemed to fill the air.
"How about a little drink before retiring?" Mike whispered in Suzy's ear.
"An excellent idea, my dear captain. Lead on."
The bar at the Del Prado was crowded with girls, conventioneers, and still a helluva lot more girls. There were girls hot and girls willing, girls pretty and just girls waiting. But Mike suspected that they all were willing. It was a good guess. He and Suzy elbowed their way back away from the bar toward a rear table, back where the professional action was not quite so steep and where those who had come with the escorts they felt they would stay with remained. There weren't a helluva lot of those and Mike and Suzy found a table with no difficulty.
"I like it here," Suzy said as they sat down at a dollar-sized table, their knees touching by virtue of their closeness, the intimations of knees touching very much in their minds.
"I kinda dig the place myself," Mike said. He smiled affectionately at her and turned to the waiter. "Marguerites." His gaze turned back to Suzy. She looked a little tired, he thought, and wondered about the bright-eyed girl-about-town, the easy one to love; she suddenly seemed strangely innocent in this loud, flamboyant atmosphere. Mike liked the childlike way she tilted her head, as if listening to something sweet and distant. "A penny for your thoughts," she heard him say as he reached out his hand and covered hers. He liked its surprising smallness and delicacy.
Suzy smiled back at him, her eyes slightly misty and still innocent, and she didn't know for the life of her why she suddenly felt that way. She felt very sad right then, but it was a good kind of sadness, a kind of sadness that she knew would be protected and sheltered by the presence of this man, this Mike Conrad.
Mike felt that strange flood of deep feeling for Suzy. It was magic, and all the sound of the noisy bar vanished for that instant, and they felt for the first time each other's soul. Lifting Suzy's hand, Mike opened the fingers and kissed her palm, holding its softness close to his mouth for a long time, and only then looking into her eyes to see that she still had the same tender expression on her face. Then she dropped that face into his hand, like a petal from a very sweet flower. He could feel the salty, warm flow of her tears and knew and, somehow, didn't know why.
Without a word, they got up. Mike dropped a bill on the table for the waiter who had just brought the drinks. He shook his head and appreciated the waiter's understanding nod as the latter swooped down on the bill and never bothered with the drinks.
In the elevator, Suzy dabbed her eyes, still saying nothing, Mike felt there was little to say. She was just tired, he thought and so, he added to himself, was he.
"Oh, Mike," Suzy burst out as he closed the door to their suite. He held her against his chest, his arms encircling her. She was protected and Mike liked the feeling of doing that for her. He realized then, as he held her like a child, that she was small, smaller than he would have ever believed because she had been a woman and he had never thought of her as needing that such basic protection of simply being held in a strong man's arms. Stroking her hair, he wanted to say something to put her at ease, to quiet the softly wracking sobs that shuddered through her body. He murmured vowel sounds, soothing sounds and, quite gradually, he felt her body soften and sigh as it clung to him for what seemed a very long time.
He stood there with the girl in his arms for yet a longer time and wondered about himself, about the flood of old memories that came to him in spurts, of flying and youth and being the best at everything. The happy, sad, dirty, wonderful times of Korea, of Tokyo, of the sodden drunken sprees, of the girls, faceless girls, There was that moment as he held Suzy in his halfback's grip, he felt for the first time he had the real one in his arms. And he wondered if there had really been that many others.
Does a man come to maturity with something sobbing on his shoulder? Mike wondered about it, but he wouldn't for the life of him let go of it. He felt so very real that he knew that it had to be the real thing. He lived through the war, and he knew in the midst of five-G pullout that he would. He knew now. He felt that welling up of love, a real thing that he could no longer deny. And, surprisingly, there was nothing very physical about that feeling. He held her and when her breathing became more normal, he squeezed her gently.
"I love you, Suzy," he whispered. "I love you more than anything else. Marry me, Suzy."
She said nothing. Her face, tear stained and yet smiling, rose to meet his and their lips met in the tenderest of kisses.
CHAPTER TEN
Janet Milbourne paced up and down in her room, sipping heavily and most irritably, from her glass of bourbon and soda. Lou Kovacs sat on the lounge chair, listening and yet not listening to her as he drank slowly and silently.
"That bastard!" It was about the thousandth time she had used the expletive. "Lou, just what in hell did I ever do to him? I feel like such a fool. And to think that I actually wanted to marry the son of a bitch."
Lou nodded, appreciating the fact that he was now an s.o.b. and no longer a bastard. Somehow he equated the former with one having a known father, much preferable in his mind to having a bitchy mother, who couldn't tell who the father was. Bitchy mothers were bad enough, and he realized that he really didn't know what in the hell he was telling himself.
"You still want to marry him ?" he asked Janet.
"I wouldn't marry him if he was the last man on earth!" Jane screamed, refilling her glass. She didn't bother with the soda this time, but she felt nothing as the whiskey seared down her throat. "Fix me another," she said, throwing his glass to Lou who fielded it with no difficulty. The catch was as much a surprise to him as it was to Janet.
"I intend to get good and loaded before I catch up with that, that . . ."
"Bastard," Lou said, rising and going over to the dresser where the bottles were lined up. He fixed her another drink, replenishing his at the same time. In some respects, he thought, I'm trapped. He had been with Janet since early in the evening. They had eaten together when her father said he was going to look up some old friends. Now he was just playing nursemaid. Up until an hour ago, he felt that it had been fun, now he wished he was back in L.A. with Mary Rose. But that was impossible, too. She was long gone, but most memorably long gone, he mused, and he wondered who was kissing her now. Janet was beginning to wear away his famous stoicism.
"Your drink, madame," he said without much humor. The edge was lost on Janet, however. She resumed her pacing and Lou watched her for a few more minutes, sipping his drink slowly. Finally he rose from the lounge, knowing that he could put up no longer with her private, though very vocal misery.
"Where are you going, Lou ?" Her voice dropped its former irritable tone. "Don't leave just yet, please." And there was a plea in it that he could no more resist than he could have jumped from the top of the building. He sat down again.
She seemed spent for a minute, as he sat there looking at her, beautiful but very emotionally spent. There was nothing in his glass, but he didn't feel like another just then.
"Janet, I'd like to say something about this situation. Don't stop me from talking." He lifted the glass and sucked at the melting ice. "You're mad because you think Mike just dumped you and ran off with another woman. Maybe you're right, but it might be that you read a lot more into your little fling with the great Captain Conrad than he does. Did it occur to you that you might just possibly be another scalp in his very well-filled belt?"
"Don't be vulgar."
"I mean it. Mike's a great guy. I'm very fond of him, and I'm gradually beginning to lose a lot of patience With everyone who keeps knocking him. I'm just liable to start swinging in his defense. After all, he's not here to explain, and when he does show, I'm damned sure that he's got a helluva good reason for his actions."
Janet gave him a disgusted look, but her heart was not entirely in it. It was possible, all that Lou had just told her, but she didn't really want to believe it. "Then why didn't he call me? Why didn't he let someone know he wasn't coming back with that Miami flight?" She finished her drink and went to the dresser and refilled her glass, regaining her earlier anger as she did. "Oh, no, Mr. Lou Kovacs, I don't buy that stuff that he's got a damned good reason for whatever hanky-panky he's been up to. The shit head has just been out to make fun of me, make me a fucking whore like all the rest of his women and you know that." There were more tears, but frustrated tears and the anger was still there. Lou knew it was time to leave.
"You bastard. You're just like him!" Janet tried to run at him, but Lou was on his feet.
After almost twelve hours of listening to her and her father, he had had it. He watched her nearly stumble over the coffee table, but he couldn't help the boiling over of his own anger. He slammed his glass against the far wall, shattering it in the million pieces a highball glass shatters into. "Okay, Miss Rich Bitch. Have it your own way. If you had any sense at all, you'd know that Mike is simply Mike, and you're just another cunt as far as he's concerned. He never gave a thought more to you than he had to. That's the way he is. Hell, right after we landed in Miami, he could hardly wait to climb into the sack with the first hot pants that came along. And so what? They come to him like bees to a pot of honey. Furthermore, I'm personally glad you got your smart little tail trimmed. And, just a word of advice, the next time you find some dumb bastard willing to put up with you, don't try to hang on so hard. It may be, in your mind, a very unique little mantrap you have between your legs, but, baby, it's just standard equipment."
Janet stood in the middle of the floor, having precariously regained her balance. She was looking at Lou Kovacs with new eyes. She had never seen him so fuming mad. She had never seen him mad at all. He glared at her for a full minute after his speech, then he kicked the shards of glass aside and left, slamming the door behind him.
He felt the rage all the way down the hall to the elevators, blind even to Harry Milbourne, mellowed by a friendly few drinks, who grabbed him by the arm. "What's the rush, Kovacs?" The old man was in a very jovial mood.
Lou looked at him, started to tell him to do unnatural acts to himself, but thought better of it. He pulled away and walked to the elevator. He punched the down button like a man wanting to punch a nose,' and he would have punched Mike Conrad that way had the latter been in the place of an elevator button. Stupid mess, he kept muttering under his breath, making the operator edgy enough to express him right to the main floor.
It was nearly three in the morning, but the bar was as crowded as it had been at midnight. Lou sat alone at the far end of the bar, staring at the colorful liquids in the variously shaped bottles. He ignored the attentions of several women whose intentions were very obvious. It took several rounds before Lou felt his anger cooling and with it he felt tired. It was all so pointless, he thought, for Mike to have vanished with a wench like Suzy.
Still, he thought, Mike would have a good reason, a very good reason and with it all would be well with the world. The thought calmed him entirely and he ordered another drink, pushing a bill toward the bartender when it came.
"That is all right, senor," the bartender said, pushing the bill back to Lou. "The gentleman at the other end of the bar has paid for your drinks and would like to know if you would join him." The bartender gave Lou a funny look which Lou squelched with a single look.
Down at the other end of the bar, Lou nodded to the youngish, thin man who was waving his glass in Lou's direction. Lou nodded his thanks and turned to his drink.
"How do you do, captain. I'm Albert Hinman.".
"Thanks for the drink, Mr. Hinman. Should we know each other?"
"Only indirectly. I'm Suzy's brother."
"Oh, that Mr. Hinman. I'm Lou Kovacs, and I'm not a captain yet. What can I do for you?"
"I believe we're both down here for the same reasons. You're looking for Mike Conrad, aren't you? Well, I'm looking for my sister. Perhaps we can help each other."
"I doubt it, Mr. Hinman. Because, quite frankly, I don't give a damn anymore. But what's the interest for you? I thought big brothers didn't look after little sisters after a certain age."
"Quite right about that, but I'm still guardian for her interests in the estate until she's twenty-five years old. In the meantime, I'm afraid, I have reason to believe that she and Conrad have taken a very valuable piece of artwork from that estate. I also think that they're trying to sell it. Naturally, as a trustee of the estate, I cannot allow her to do it. More than this, I can't tell you. It's quite valuable."
"Like how much valuable?"
"Say, twenty thousand dollars."
"That's valuable, but hardly enough to shake up the financial world, nor the art world, for that matter," Lou said taking a long pull on his drink.
"I have other reasons, too, Mr. Kovacs. Would you be interested in earning ten percent? I'm willing to pay in cash for any information you can give me. Are you interested now?"
Lou stared at the thin little man beside him. It was a lot of money right then. But was it worth a lot of years of friendship? Mike was a nut, perhaps, but he was a friend and a very likeable friend. He took a closer look at Hinman in the golden glow of the bar lights.
"Sorry, Mr. Hinman, I don't know anything about Mike or your sister. Even if I did, I'm afraid that I would have to tell you that he's still my friend, and that's the way I'd have to swing." He turned back to his drink, touched the glass and added, "But thanks for the drinks. I hope you find your sister."
Hinman finished his drink, putting the glass down on the bar beside Lou quietly. He left without saying another word and Lou followed his image in the bar mirror as the man left.
Lou ordered another drink from the bartender who made no attempt to hide his yawns. The place had grown suddenly quieter; Lou thought that was about time. He was tired, and, as the sweet-dry taste of the bourbon and soda slid down his throat, he knew that it had been a long day As he sat contemplating the condensation on the sides of his glass with both hands, Janet slid into the seat vacated by the little thin brother of Suzy. He saw her sit down, but didn't turn around. Her reflection in the back bar mirror told him that she had lost much of her mad, too, but he was still in no mood for talking. It wasn't until she actually ordered that he did finally turn around. He wasn't actually surprised to see her there, but he noted a bit of surprise in himself for almost being glad that she was.
"Still mad at me?"
"At everyone and at no one," he said softly, not looking at her directly. "I'm just tired, I guess. Sorry about your glassware. I was just sick and tired of listening to all the crap about Mike. If you plan to carry on the rage, please take it somewhere else. My crying shoulder is closed for the night and I intend to get some sleep." He rose from the stool, dropping a ten dollar bill on the bar.
"Don't go, Lou," she said, putting her arm over his. "You opened my eyes about Mike."
"I said that it was closed." He pulled away for an instant, but she didn't let go of his arm.
"Stay for one drink, please," she said, her eyes without tears. "I suppose that I really wanted him too much without really looking to see whether he wanted me that badly." She turned toward Lou's hulking frame. He said nothing, but he sat down again.
They sat together like that for another half hour, just in time for the gray-haired bartender to tap on the bar and turn on the bright lights. Janet got up a little unsteadily, and Lou followed her.
In the elevator, she leaned against his powerful chest and she liked what she found to be a comfortable bulk. "Would you take me to my door, kind sir?"
The bourbon had worked nearly all of the anger out of Lou and, surprisingly, most of the fatigue. He felt a surging of the second wind, like the last quarter of a football game when his team was behind. And with the returning good feeling, his sense of humor came back.
"The pleasure's mine, dear lady," he said. "That is, of course, if you invite me in for a nightcap."
"A morning cap, sir," Janet sighed. "It's morning, and it's a morning cap you will have." She lurched slightly away from him and he steadied her. "Show me the way to go home." The song was without music and the voice very soprano mucho boozo. Janet giggled again and looked up into Lou's face. He was smiling tolerantly.
As he closed the door to her suite, he felt considerably less tired." It was the fourth quarter his nerve endings told him, and the first-string is out.
Time to punt it away-or take the ball and run? He laughed to himself.
Janet slipped from the crook of his arm and headed for the bedroom. "Fix a couple of morning caps." she smiled, "while I get into something more comfortable."
Take the ball and run, he thought. Lou looked at her. Obviously her last comment was meant only at face value. The classic clich� of the vamp came out with sodden innocence. Through the closed door, Lou could hear Janet fumbling around with dresser drawers, humming something almost as unrecognizable as the one she tried to sing in the elevator. He drained his glass and fixed himself another as Janet emerged from the bedroom.
Lou Kovacs had been around a good bit. He was as used to women as any man about the world. He'd had his share of the best from high performance planes to high performance cars and some very high performance women, including the passionate ones on the dance floor who chilled between the sheets and the wallflowers who erupted as soon as the motel room door was closed. Women were constantly interesting, seldom predictable,, but few surprised Lou. Janet was one of them.
She came out of the bedroom dressed in a pale green lace-trimmed negligee. It made no pretense to hide her more standard equipment. The full swell of her breasts was as triumphantly visible as it would have been had she chosen to wear nothing at all. The gossamer covering only heightened the effect of her nudity.
Lou poured his drink, a stiff one that gurgled up to within an inch of the rim of the glass. He didn't bother to add his customary soda. Sipping slowly, he said nothing as she leaned against the frame of the bedroom door. His eyes did all the talking necessary for him, and they were responding to what she was saying with her body position and her costume. His eyes roved up and down her body, from her upthrust tits to the dark patch at the top of her legs, down to her knees and back up, very slowly, over the same terrain to her face.
He picked up her drink and carried it to her. She smiled as she took it and placed the cool rim of the glass against her pouting and freshly rouged lips, that double slash of crimson sensuality that no woman headed to bed for sleeping would bother with. Janet was not about to do much sleeping.
They stood at the threshold for several minutes, each sipping slowly, saying nothing. Then Janet turned abruptly back into the bedroom. There was no further invitation needed. Lou followed.
She stopped by the bed, put her glass on the nightstand and stripped the covers back until the top sheet was hanging over the foot. She threw back her black hair and turned her attentions to Lou's uniform, unbuttoning his blouse deftly. She'd had some experience. She didn't kiss Lou, but continued working slowly at his clothing, unloosening his tie, removing it and unbuttoning his trousers. It was a slow process that at once made Lou nervous and very excited, but each movement seemed to be some sort of ritual that she needed for her own excitement. He stood mute and let the girl have her way.
He still said nothing even as he stepped out of the heap of his trousers when they fell to the floor. He waited, his excitement very obvious now as he dropped to her knees and pulled his under-shorts down. She paused for a moment at his cock before dropping further down and helping him remove his shoes and socks and pushing him back until he sat on the edge of the bed. He waited until he felt her wet tongue lick around his toes and slide moistly up his hairy legs. He watched in fascination as her dark soft hair brushed over his thighs and her small hands spread his legs, cupping his balls in one hand and grasping the thick base of his cock with the other. Her tongue came out of her crimson lips and licked its way up the last few inches of his thigh before settling wetly on the sack of his testicles. He moaned as she sucked a ball into her mouth, unable to keep from pushing her head away. He felt her mouth open wider and her tongue continued its hot caress but her lips no longer entrapped him almost painfully.
Janet nudged the base of his cock back until the shaft was pressing against his abdomen, her tongue flicking away from his balls and up the soft underside of his cock. She felt like she could lick it forever. To her it seemed to never end, but then her tongue found the head, the throbbing thick red meat that crowned his long fat shaft.
She left him for an instant, letting his massive prick spring away from his body and slap delightfully against her wet red lips. Her mouth opened wide and closed over the knob while her tongue darted into the tiny slit. She narrowed the tip as if trying to force her way down that miniscule opening as her lips opened and closed around him. She brushed her tongue around the sides of his swollen knob, pausing to give a rapid flicking to the underside where she knew it to be the most sensitive.
Her neck arched forward as she opened her mouth very wide and she lowered her head down, down, down until she felt some of the stubble of his hair tickling the end of her nose. She pulled her head back up, her lips fastened around the heavy shaft while she rolled his knob against the roof of her mouth. She pulled her mouth completely free of his penis, took a deep breath of air and went down on him again, but this time she knew she would not stop until he spurted hotly into the back of her throat. She didn't have a very long wait.
Later, as they both lay on the bed, Lou kissed her wetly on the mouth, hardly aware that her bright lipstick had rubbed entirely off on his cock. She had not even taken off her negligee, but her entire body was exposed, the negligee high around her neck. At the sight of her creamy flesh, Lou felt himself rising to the occasion. Janet helped, slipping her hand between his legs and massaging his balls. His mouth sought hers more intensely as his cock became hard again. He felt, more than heard, her whimper as he pressed her breasts against his hairy chest. Then she broke free and pulled the gown down to cover herself.
"Rip it off! Rip it off, Lou, and bugger me."
The delicate fabric was fastened at the throat. Lou hesitated for a moment, sat up and eased his large fingers around the collar, pressing ever so slightly against the whiteness of her throat. Then he ripped it down, exposing her taut-nippled breasts again. She shucked out of the remnants herself, but lay very still and on her back. "Please, Lou. Force me. Force me." Lou clasped her rigid but quivering body close to his before easily flipping her onto her stomach.
Janet knew just what to do, suddenly tucking her knees up under herself, exposing the puckered hole of her anus. Lou straddled her, shoving his penis into her pussy-oiled rectum. She squealed and rammed her ass back to meet his attack. Janet cried with pleasure, knowing that this was the most total satisfaction she had ever felt in her life.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Albert Hinman walked slowly toward the elevator after he had been refused help by Lou to find his sister. Albert was not quite as thin as he at first appeared in the dimness of the bar. The lean, hard muscles beneath his frame moved him along at an easy gait that reflected the years of athletic prowess that had made him a letterman in track, boxing, tennis. But his face remained the soft, boyish thing it had been the first time he pummeled an opponent into the ropes at prep school. Right now he was feeling like a very little boy.
The damned statue, which he had never seen, was worth a lot of money, at least more than enough to pay off those characters in New Jersey. A couple of wild weekends had put him in their debt, thanks mostly, although Albert did not know it, to a rigged wheel at the clandestine gambling casino. Thinking about some of the denizens of the place, Albert was struck with the thought that most of them looked as though they would do in their own mothers for considerably less than the twelve grand he owed them.
As he stepped into the elevator, two men came into it with him, one on each side of him. "Good evening, Mr. Hinman, so nice to meet you in Mexico City." The voice was familiar, although the face was not immediately visible under the slouched brim of a panama hat.
Albert froze. Certainly they wouldn't do anything in the elevator. It was the New Jersey creeps, and he wondered if they were going to bump him off, break his legs or worse. A thousand slow ways to die ran through his brain while they rode silently up the elevator. Finally the slouch hat spoke. "We're glad to see you again. But there's a little matter of some outstanding credit that we'd better discuss, don't you agree? Let's go to my suite, shall we?"
Albert nodded his head. He was not so certain now that they might not do anything on the elevator. The car stopped at his floor, but he knew better than to try to run out. Where would he go, he asked himself. They rode up to the tenth floor in silence.
Inside the suite, a couple of hookers in low-cut evening gowns, slightly disheveled at that hour, lounged on the couch, drinking. "Okay, girls, fix some drinks for our guest. Scotch, I believe, Mr.
Hinman?" his host offered.
"Yes, please," Albert said, finding his voice.
He heard the door close behind the younger man who leaned against it. Any dive for that door was well blocked, Albert thought. But after a few minutes, the young man beckoned to one of the girls and went into the bedroom.
"Now about that business matter, Mr. Hinman," the older man began. "Perhaps we can settle it right now? That would be very convenient as you see I have had to incur many expenses. And do you know why, Mr. Hinman? Because we tried to reach you at your office, but they said that you had left town. Now that's not very polite to leave town without telling your old friends. We worry about you, did you know that?"
"Look, Mr. Carson, I can't settle anything tonight. You see, my sister has the money with her. She's down here somewhere, but I've not been able to get in touch with her yet. You understand?"
The older man nodded his head. "Of course, of course. But when, my friend, do you intend to get in touch with her? I haven't got forever, and my expenses keep going up. And I do have a board of trustees, as you know. And you do understand my position." The smile vanished as he continued, "Now, I'll lay it on the line, friend. I want that money in this room no later than this time tomorrow. Do I make myself clear?"
"I understand, Mr. Carson. I'm not trying to cheat you. I just don't have the money, and I won't until I find my sister."
"That's very touching, Mr. Hinman. My advice to you is to find your sister very, very quickly. That's all I've got to say in the matter. Tomorrow night, then?"
Albert took a swallow from his drink. It tasted bitter, but he nodded his head. There was nothing more to say about it, he thought. The other girl smiled at him invitingly. He returned her smile, but there was a deathly sickness to it. She rolled her eyes back in a gesture of helplessness.
He left without finishing the drink, and once in the hallway, he felt chilled. It was the heavy perspiration that was evaporating from his body. Shuddering visibly, Albert walked quickly to the elevators and rode down to his own floor.
"Ah, my pets," Carlos Sosa said to his three girls as they lay in bed, "I'm afraid we slightly disappointed our American friends. I rather suspect that they were expecting a much more erotic form of entertainment, don't you?"
The girls giggled, even Maria laughed softly, but none of them answered. Snuggling closer to their employer, the girls began fondling each other and Carlos. He pushed them away.
"Shush, my pets. I must get some sleep before I see my friends in the morning. After all, they have the treasure I've been seeking for a long, long time." He rolled over, Maria clinging closely to him. "But don't let that stop you if you three want to play." Maria giggled and he felt her slip down to the end of the bed where the other two girls were hotly contesting each other's bottoms. They made it a three-way contest when Maria joined them.
Early the next day, Carlos put through his call to the hotel. "Good morning, senorita. I trust you slept well. I will have the necessary money by noon. But first, may I invite you and Senor Conrad to lunch? Yes, at your hotel. Excellent. I'll be expecting you both then."
After talking with Suzy, Carlos phoned his bank and made arrangements for delivery of the money in cash to his home. Maria knocked as he hung up the phone and Carlos beckoned her to enter with the serving cart. He lifted the lid over the rolls and butter, excellent, the coffee, perfect. He popped the cork on the cold champagne and poured, filling an extra glass for Maria.
"It isn't often that you enjoy breakfast with me, my dear. Come here and sit." Sipping the wine, he pulled Maria down on his knee with his other hand. She settled her warm, bare ass down and helped herself to the other glass of wine. He drank his first glass of champagne without stopping, and then Maria refilled it.
"Tonight, my dear, I think I'll throw a little party for our American friends. Something very special in honor of my new work of art. And this time, I don't think that our friends will be disappointed." Maria giggled and squirmed her hot butt down harder against his knee.
Harry Milbourne awoke with a monumental hangover. There was no denying what it was. It was a dilly, a real noggin-throbbing, gut-burning hangover. He moaned and remembered as best he could the evening before. It had all started with marguerites with that snot-nosed copilot, Kovacs, but that wouldn't have done it. Later he had called up a couple of friends he knew from previous trips to the capital city, none of whom were male. The party, actually more of an orgy, took place at a hotel the name of which for the life of him he couldn't remember, and it had been considerably more than a simple drink fest. He moaned but he had enjoyed every sensual moment of it.
Rising shakily from his bed, he reached for the phone, ordered a bottle of champagne, the only thing for a hangover he had once been told, and eggs and bacon. Then he collapsed back onto the bed, trying to put the orgy out of his mind along with the real reason for coming to Mexico City.
Slowly the events marched before him, stomped actually through his boozy gray matter. The missing son-of-a-bitch Conrad, the whore he was with, his own daughter's broken heart. Shit. Then the fucking snub by that other s.o.b. Kovacs. "To hell with them all," he said aloud, and regretted having used his vocal chords.
The phone rang. Harry Milbourne covered his head with the big pillow. It still rang, distantly but damned persistently. Finally he realized that it was not going to stop and he picked it up. "What is it?"
"Good morning, Dad," Janet chirped. Milbourne wanted to throw up. "How about some breakfast? Lou and I are going to see the sights before we go back to L.A. Want to join us?" The last question was said with all the sincerity of a two-dollar hooker's surprise over the enormity of a John's cock.
"No. I have already ordered breakfast. And no, again. I do not wish to see the sights of the city. But tell that snot-nose Kovacs that he'd better learn to be more civil to his betters. I'm not used to being snubbed in hotel hallways by employees, either the hotel's or my own."
"Oh, Dad! That was my fault. I'm sorry. I made Lou very angry, but I'm sure that you and he will strike it off very famously. He rather admires you, you know."
"I know nothing of the sort, and I couldn't care less. But what's this stuff with Lou? I thought you wanted to get your clutches on a certain ex-captain flyer. Is that finished?"
"Finished. Done forever. A mad fling, that's all. Lou showed me what a louse Mike really is, a nice louse, of course, but he's not for me anymore."
"Good. Have fun. I'm going back to the States as soon as I can get a reservation. And please, Janet, call your old father if you decide to do something rash."
"Of course, Daddy. Goodbye, and have a nice trip." Janet clicked off without another word. Harry Milbourne, his hangover none the better for the phone call, dropped his legs over the side of the bed just as there was a knock on the door and the entrance of the room service waiter wheeling in his breakfast.
Albert Hinman had slept fitfully, slept very nervously, as he could witness by the rumpled array of bed clothing. In happier times, he would have found a nubile young broad somewhere in the tousled array, but this mess was the result of one man's nervous bout with sleep. He picked up the phone and called room service.
His breakfast could best be described as liquid, a bottle of Scotch, soda, bucket of ice, and then, by way of an afterthought, some poached eggs and English muffins.
Leafing through his notebook, he found the name and phone number he wanted, gave it to the operator and waited for the party to answer.
"Mendez? This is Albert Hinman. Where have you been hiding? I've been trying to reach you or hear from you for the last day and a half. Have you had any word about my sister? The last time I talked to you, you said you had a couple of guys watching them. Well, where in the hell are they and where is my sister?"
Albert's voice rose to a near hysterical pitch toward the end of his breathless monologue. He paused, deciphering as best he could Mendez' broken English. "They're where?" He shouted. "Here, in this hotel? Why in hell didn't you tell me then?
Damn!" With that he slammed down the phone, only to pick it up again.
"What room is Miss Hinman in? Or Mike Conrad?"
What an ass, he thought. Of course this would be the only place where his sister would stay. "Yes, thank you, operator." Putting back the receiver, he added to himself, Yes, thanks one helluva big lot.
The bellman brought his breakfast just as Albert was leaving. "Take the food back, but put the Scotch and stuff on the dresser." He handed the man a bit more than his old school would have approved of, but Albert felt like a man released from the death house. He shuddered. That was too close a simile.
Mike woke only minutes before Suzy, just enough time to allow him to watch her childlike slumber, peaceful and filled with a softness he found difficult to compare with anything. He touched her bare shoulder, feeling its warmth beneath his fingers with a note of surprise, as though it were the first time he felt that quiet heat of a woman's body in slumber.
She woke up, blinking, yawning, and stretching like a contented cat or a child having napped soundly and ready for play again. She smiled at Mike and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her. "I love you. I love you." She kept whispering the words as she kissed his eyes, his ears, his neck, even his nose, before she crushed her mouth against his.
"I love you, too, but let's get out of bed and have some breakfast. I'm going to make an honest woman of you today and I'm damned if you can seduce me back into that bed."
He got up, but Suzy just smiled. "Okay, but I'm not moving, not for any kind of breakfast that doesn't include you as the first course. Come here." He could not refuse. She rolled over to the edge of the bed and pulled him close. Lifting his cock with one hand, she crammed it into her mouth.
Much later, after they were showered and dressed, Mike held her in his arms. "Well, that was the last time until you become Mrs. Conrad."
"Are you making bets, captain?"
"Yes," he cried, opening the door of the suite and pulling her behind him. They both laughed. She, from a happiness she had never felt in her entire life, not as a sophisticate, not as a party girl, not even, she said to herself, as the child that romped on her grandfather's knee.
"My, what a touching scene."
Albert Hinman stood just outside the door. He looked at them, smiling in a Cheshire cat way. Neither Mike nor Suzy said a word. They didn't even pay much attention to what brother Albert was saying. They were both looking at the revolver in his hand.
"Now let's go back inside for a few minutes. I believe my sister and I have a bit of discussing to do about a certain piece of, shall we say, family property."
"Albert, what are you doing in Mexico City?" Suzy was not surprised so much by the presence of the gun in her brother's hand as she was the presence of her brother.
"Simple, my dear. I want that statue. I know you have it because it's not at the Miami place. My friends have looked there, and they couldn't find it. Now, where is it? I haven't much time."
"Oh, Albert," Suzy cried. "What an ass you are. Put that silly gun away before it goes off and hurts someone. You don't even know what kind of statue you're looking for."
"I know it's made of solid gold, and in my book that's plenty of reason to look for it. You should never have taken it from the estate listings, at any rate."
"It was never a part of the estate, and you damned well know it." Suzy was no longer peeved at the sight of the gun, she was getting downright angry. Mike moved across the room. He had seen enough of guns to last him a lifetime.
"Why do you want it so badly, anyway?"
"I must have it," Albert said, his voice weakening under the firmer questions of his sister. "I owe some gambling bills, and you know I can't get at my allowance until January. I guess I was a little afraid to ask you for it. At any rate, it belongs to the estate, and I intend to liquidate it."
"Pull the fucking trigger then," she flared, "and then no one will have it. Besides it is my piece of art. Gramps gave it to me, personally, and he never intended it to be part of the damned estate."
Mike shook his head and moved back to where the booze was standing. He poured himself a healthy four fingers of bourbon. It looked for all the world like a family squabble and he, for one, was not about to get into it, unless Albert started waving the gun around again. Right now the gun was loosely held toward the floor, but Mike was too smart to try to jump him. Too far away, and guns were much too quick.
Sipping the uniced drink, Mike listened casually as Albert, almost sobbingly, told his sister about the gunmen and the debt.
"Well," Suzy relented, "I'll keep the statue, but I'll lend you the money. Now please put that gun away."
"Oh, God, thanks, kid. They'd have killed me, I know." "Put the gun away."
"Yes, oh, well, no harm. It's not loaded."
"What?" Suzy swung a roundhouse slap to his face that sent him reeling back. "Of all the goddamn cheap stunts. I've a good mind to let those hoods work you over before I pay them."
Mike laughed. It was the wrong time to laugh. He should have known it from the particularly attractive rosy hue Suzy's anger brought to her complexion. "And you shut up, too."
He did, feigning a defensive posture. Albert got up, humbled and showing a crimson welt an exact duplicate of her fingers. He rubbed his cheek and came over to the dresser, pouring a drink for himself. He looked at Mike.
"I gather you're Mike Conrad. Hardly the best of circumstances to meet you, brother-in-law, and all that, but glad to know you."
"Pleased," Mike mumbled. "Except there's just a slight hitch. Shall we tell him?"
"Might as well." She turned to her brother. "Al, we're not married. Not yet. That was only to get Jackson's plane, but we're going to be married this afternoon. Would you give the bride away?"
"Looks like you've already done that," Albert said with a leer.
Suzy went for his throat, but Mike stepped between them. "Please. Peace?" The siblings smiled after a strained several moments. "Okay, then, let's have a drink."
Charlie "Kit" Carson rolled from his bed, slapping the bare white rump of the dark-haired girl who had given Albert Hinman his nervous drink the night before. "All right, my hot potato, wake up. It's time for breakfast."
She turned over, moaning a sleepy cry over her injured seat and robbing it tenderly. "You hit so hard, Mr. Carso? . You're gonna bruise me and then I won't be an good."
"Baby, what you are good for doesn't make calluses."
"If they were ail like you, I'd be one solid callus," she said, laughing and wriggling her body so one long shapely leg was exposed right up to her snatch. Carson recalled her delightful antics in bed and pulled down the sheet, exposing her entirely. She didn't protest. Instead, she arched her back and drew her long legs to her chin.
"See," she said teasingly, showing him the damaged bottom, "you left a welt with your hand." Carson apologized and climbed back in bed, pushing the girl down harder into the mattress, forcing her to keep her legs back. "Oh, lover. You got another stiff prick for little ole me. Fuck me, baby. Fuck me."
Carson knelt in front of her, watching with interest as she spread her pubes with her fingers and then shoved his cock into her wet orifice. He made a half-dozen jabs at her before he pulled out and rolled over onto his back. "Finish me in your mouth, sweetheart." The girl scrambled down between his legs and sucked his cock into her morning-dry mouth. She wished that he would have finished off between her legs, but she knew better than to argue.
An eternity later, Kit Carson rose from the bed and took the girl with him to the shower. Later he put on a bathrobe and went into the sitting room of the suite. "Hey, Jake, wake up."
Through the door of the other bedroom, where the young hood called Jake had been enjoying similar rites with his girl, Carson heard a muffled response. "In a minute, all right?"
"Don't take all morning with that cunt. The eggs are getting cold and the champagne is getting hot." Carson said it, however, in a jovial mood. It was the way he felt whenever he knew he was about to become several thousands of dollars richer.
The dark-haired girl came out of the bedroom, a towel wrapped around her body. Carson glared at her and said, "Drop the fucking towel, baby. I want you naked while we eat breakfast."
She dropped the towel and entered the room. "That's better, sugar. I like you in the altogether. Here, have some giggle water." She took it and gulped it down thirstily.
"Is there any orange juice?"
"What a stupid question. Drink the wine and you won't need any orange juice. Where the hell you think you are? In California?"
"Sorry, just asked." The girl filled her glass again, thinking that at least it was ice cold.
Jake came into the room, saw the naked dark-haired girl and hollered back to his wench. "Hey, baby, get a load of this. And take off that goddam bathrobe. What's good enough for the boss's girl is good enough for you." A limpid-eyed redhead came out behind Jake. She joined the breakfast group and never batted an eye when Carson told her to turn around in front of him for his closer scrutiny.
"Nice figure. You can sure pick 'em, Jake. Say, how about a little swapsville later? You like that, girls, huh?" Carson laughed hoarsely, slapping his girl on the ass for the thousandth time.
The girls smiled weakly and nodded their heads. All four then settled down to breakfast. When he finished his eggs, Carson got up and grabbed a cigar.
"Jake," Carson said, "I've got a funny feeling that our Mr. Hinman might try to cop out. Why don't you get dressed and keep tabs on him?"
Jake, good soldier that he was, finished his wine and went into the bedroom to dress. Carson looked at the two girls who were slopping down the champagne as fast as they could. Carson looked them over, puffed on his cigar and sat down at the breakfast table again.
When Jake left the suite, Carson turned to the redhead. "Come here, baby." She walked slowly toward him, her hips rolling sensuously. Carson sighed and opened his bathrobe. "Kneel down, baby. I want a little preview of what your mouth is like."
The girl put her glass down on the table next to Carson's ashtray and dropped to her knees. Her mouth was all that Carson had hoped it would be. Across the room, the dark-haired girl poured another drink for herself, quietly satisfied that she would not be needed for a little while, anyway.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Across the city, settling himself into the somewhat worn fabric of the taxi, Carlos Sosa gave directions to the driver, patting the shoebox at his side. He wondered if the driver could have even remotely suspected that the box contained ten neat, new bank bundles of one hundred, one hundred dollar bills. Best he didn't, Carlos thought, since he would probably want to kill me for it. And such a piddling sum.
It wasn't a long drive to the Del Prado. Carlos had no other reason for leaving early than just to go there. He liked the city in the morning. His city, he mused, he liked early in the morning since it was so much a night city. There was something about it in the chill of the morning that made the pleasures of his warm bed that much more agreeable. No, not that much. Perhaps it is just the peon in me, he thought, and he shut out further thoughts of the city. It was a great day to get something for himself.
Actually, it was long beyond the hour of dawn. Nearer the zenith was the sun, but for Carlos, it was close enough. He had never had too much to do with sunlight.
At the entrance of the hotel, tourists were already arriving and departing. The doorman wore his professional smile to all, warmer to those with a good tip, condescendingly to those who were crass enough to ignore him. Carlos walked quietly past him, accepting the doorman's overly courteous greeting. Carlos did not tip him.
The dining room where Carlos finally stopped his slow walk through the hotel was not crowded. The early risers had long since eaten their breakfasts and it was too early for lunch. Carlos ordered a bottle of champagne, sipped it slowly, and occasionally patted the bundle at his side.
Standing outside the door, Jake could hear the glasses smash against the wall inside. He wondered what in the hell was going on, not knowing about the prenuptial drinkfest going on with Mike and Albert and Suzy. But the sound of their laughter eased his mind that there was not a fight going on inside. He lit a cigarette, puffing thoughtfully over his good judgment.
Jake had passed a few bucks around the hotel and discovered that Mr. Hinman was closeted with one Mike Conrad, to him a most policeman-sounding kind of name. He knew that anyone who owed money to his boss should not be so foolish as to be associating with cops. He would watch and then he would act.
Suddenly the door opened and Mike, Suzy, and Albert emerged, the one leading the other toward the elevator. The champagne had left them all, if not quite staggering, at least heeling slightly to the wind. Jake puffed his cigarette and followed them down the hallway.
"That's one of the gamblers," Albert whispered. Suzy and Mike turned and glared at the man following them.
The elevator arrived at their floor, opening wide to reveal its plush interior and Lou Kovacs and Janet Milbourne. Those two were ignoring the basic law of elevator travel, looking at each other rather than straight ahead. It was several moments before they saw each other.
"Good morning, young lovers," Mike said.
"Mike! Where have you been?"
"Why, Janet! Where have you been?"
"Would somebody introduce me?" Suzy said in a voice that suggested she was entirely happy to run into Lou and Janet.
Mike did the honors, even including Jake, who stood back against the wall, confused and wondering what he had done wrong for events to turn on him like they had. He was no longer the sinister henchman, but an inescapable guest at a meeting of old friends.
Janet wondered if this was the girl Lou had told her about. "So nice to meet friends of my
"Ex-fiance, you mean, don't you, Miss Milbourne?"
"Relax, everybody," Lou intervened. "Janet and I are going to be married, Mike. I thought you'd like to know."
"I see," Mike said softly.
"We'll have a double ceremony," Albert volunteered. His remark was met with coolness. Then the elevator doors opened and the six of them marched across the lobby, the lovers on each other's arms, Albert and Jake taking up the rear.
Halfway to the dining room, they met Harry Milbourne, carrying his briefcase and directing a bellman to be careful with his other luggage.
"Dad," Janet cried, "look who we've found, the long-missing Mike Conrad." Then, less enthusiastically, she added, "And his fianc� and her brother. The other gentleman is a friend."
"Yeah," said Jake, slightly relieved, "a good friend."
Harry Milbourne agreed to join them for lunch. Inside the dining room, Carlos Sosa watched as they trooped into the foyer. He glanced at the waiter and told him to direct the seven over to his table.
"So nice to meet again," Carlos said, patting his bundle. After they told him excitedly that they all planned to be married, he was delighted. "Why then, we must make this a celebration. This evening, I'll host a wedding supper. I trust you'll join me. And now," he added, waving to the waiter, "champagne all around, and keep it coming."
"We have the package," Suzy whispered in her host's ear.
"Splendid," he said, patting the bundle. "I think we can arrange everything right away." Suzy excused herself and returned to her room.
"What the hell's going on?" Albert said.
"Sit still, my friend," Carlos said. "Your sister and I have a little business deal. It won't take long and it will not interfere with the party. Let's drink up."
They did, only Jake carefully sipping his wine, knowing that more than a single glass would render him incapable of finishing his task. Albert, on the other hand, relieved that sister Suzy was going to bail him out, felt no such inclination towards sobriety. He drank his share, glass for glass with Carlos. Mike and Janet barely touched their wine. Harry Milbourne held the middle ground, drinking about one glass for every three that Carlos and Albert were putting away.
Ten minutes later and several bottles of wine later, Suzy returned, followed by a bellman carrying a heavy package. Carlos Sosa beamed and told the bellman to put the package next to his chair. Quickly he opened it, ignoring the curious questions of the others at the table. "Ah, yes, my dear," he said, quickly resealing the package, "it's just what you said it was. And the reward is right here." He handed her the bundle of cash, but Suzy didn't have the strength to open it. She handed it to Mike. "My God, it's money."
Jake's eyes bugged out at the sight of the new currency. Even Harry Milbourne gave the money a funny look. "How much is there?"
"A trifle compared to what I have just purchased," Carlos said. "And now let's have a drink and some snacks. I'm sure that these fine people want to make their marriage vows very quickly."
They all laughed.
Much later, after the young people had left the lavish dinner party Carlos had prepared for them, the two older men sat around.
"Senor Milbourne, I'm sure that this has been a very exhausting day for you. Perhaps you would like a little light refreshment and some very special entertainment?" Milbourne nodded. "Good. I think you may enjoy this very, very much. Some fine cognac and some fine Havanas, eh? And then something else."
Because of the number of guests and the fact that Harry Milbourne was present, Carlos Sosa's trio of girls had been decorously dressed during the supper. But when he rang the bell for service, they appeared, each as naked as they were born. One carried the cigars, one carried the cognac and Maria, blushing only slightly by now, carried the glasses.
"Shall we enjoy, Mr. Milbourne?"
Sosa and Milbourne settled back in the deep luxury of the leather easy chairs, allowing the girls to pour the cognac and light their cigars. "A very pleasant life you lead Here, Senor Sosa," Milbourne said. "It suits me."
Harry coughed a little and then turned confidentially to his host. "The girls, ah, do they ..."
"What other reason would a man like myself have for them? Of course. Just name your pleasure."
Harry Milbourne looked at Maria and then to Sosa with a question on his face. Sosa looked slightly pained. "She is Maria. And very nice. Would you like her to use her newly found talents?"
Milbourne laughed. Sosa nodded to Maria, who slipped between Harry Milbourne's legs and deftly unzipped his fly. She unbelted his pants and pulled them down around the old man's ankles. Then her delicate fingers wormed their way over the waistband of his shorts and eased them down to his knees. Her mouth sucked his penis inside and held it there as it throbbed into an excitement that Harry Milbourne had thought had been drained from him the night before.
It was very good, and when he looked over at his host, he saw the other two girls performing the same oral ministrations to him. It was an altogether pleasant way to end a visit to Mexico City, Milbourne thought.
