The low rumble rose in a quickening crescendo and then halted abruptly with a thunderous crash as the wave hit the beach. The quieter whispering rush of sound as the waters receded across the rocks and sand exposed for a second the rasping noise of her zipper as he tugged it downward . . . and then another pounding wave drowned all other sounds in its suddenness . . .
No! No! She wanted to cry out, but his hands had touched her breasts just as softly and tenderly as the withdrawing surf that caressed the sand in its return to the sea. Her senses seemed to be so vibrantly alert - the crashing waves became an explosive roar in her ears, the ebbing waters seemed to be whispering soft encouragement to her - and the warmth of his searching hands offered such comforting protection against the salty chill of the night air ...
"Just lean back against me, Laura," she heard him say, and the intrusion of his words into her thoughts snapped her abruptly back into reality. "No . . . NO! . . . please," she moaned and tried to pull away from him. "Please, you can't ... no, no, I don't want to ... I can't . . ." Her voice trailed away as she tried to squirm away from his touch, the heat of his body as he pressed more firmly against her . . . and then she felt the cold air hit her back as he parted the silken top of her jumpsuit and moved his hands inside past the zipper until they touched her skin like an electric shock.
Duke held the young, married woman tightly as she jerked away from him, moving his fingertips lightly and teasingly across the velvet softness of her skin - slowly and gently until he felt her begin to relax again and lean back against him in acquiescent surrender. Even though he could feel his body stiffening with desire, could feel the rising heat in his loins, he forced himself to move slowly. He knew that her surrender was almost complete, that soon there would be no struggle, only desire left in her . . . but, he also knew that another premature word or move could destroy everything. And so there was only tenderness and gentle hesitancy in the way his fingers traced a soft trail across her back. He ached to reach forward - to reach farther around her until his searching hands could feel the firm swell of her breasts - he wanted to move his hands downward over the curve of her belly, past the elastic waistband, and feel the burning excitement at the first touch of silken curled hair at her naked loins - but, still, he waited . . .
The beachhouse clung to the side of the cliff in the darkness, a black, perching silhouette except for the glow from the living room that out' lined the two people on the outstretched deck. Behind them, the soft lights inside seemed to be a beckoning warmth against the pale coldness of the moon and the chill in the salt-laden air. Even the tuminescent phosphorous in the waves and curling surf was cold and forbidding in comparison.
The man below on the beach shivered as he pulled his coat tighter. He stood almost motionless and tried not to make any sound as he checked the lens covers again to make sure that none of the salty spray had dampened or fogged his camera. There was no need for him to worry about noise because the night surf in Southern California in early spring was still rough enough to mask any sounds he might have made - but being quiet, like the lack of movement, was just another way of avoiding detection.
Goddamn it, what the shit are they taking so long for, he thought to himself, I'm freezin' my balls off! Man, this better be worth it, or ol' Duke's gonna have his ass in a sling.
He watched the silhouetted couple for several moments, wiping the spray from his face and the sting in his eyes, and cursing silently to himself. They didn't seem to be moving up there on the overhang porch, though it was really too dark for him to tell and each time he tried to focus his eyes more clearly it only made them blurred and watery.
"Shit, Duke, if you don't get on the fuckin' stick, I'm gettin' it out!" he said, unaware that he had spoken aloud, though the words were blown away by the wind and the crashing of the waves. He looked around again to see if there was any way that he could move closer to the house, away from the wind, but there were only a few low clumps of iceplant between the rocks where he stood and the sheltering darkness of the beach-house. And though it was a cold windy night, the sky was clear and the moon bathed the sand in a pale and almost bright light.
He shivered again as the cold, wet spray seemed to cut through his windbreaker and coat his skin with an icy film - and then, only seconds before he would have given up and crossed the exposure of the beach for the wannth of his car on the upper road - he saw the two people above him turn toward the living room and slide open the wide glass door.
It's about goddamn time, he thought to himself when the door closed behind them and he ran across the damp sand, his feet crunching softly in the wetness until he reached the steep stone stairwav ...
She had wanted to tell him to stop, to take his hands away - that she was married ... but it had been so long ... so long . . .
So many conflicting thoughts, shame and desire, repulsion and need, whirled through her mind as he led her through the sliding doors into the living room . . . what had he done to her? Why had the slow movements of his hands aroused and awakened that urgent need in her so easily? She only knew that from the first electric moment, when his hands had touched her bare skin and caused those cold and delicious chills to run up her spine until they turned into tiny flames in her brain, she had wanted him to take her . ; , out there on the deck . . - with the cold, wet wind and spray to cool the raging heat in her body . . . out there in the dark and wind that might wipe away the shameful realization of what she was doing - and he had made the desire in her reach even higher. How?
He hadn't held her any tighter, hadn't even pressed that hardness of his body against her the way she had wanted. Even now, as he put more wood on the fire in the fireplace, she remembered the way his hands had touched her - never hard, and only tracing a teasing design down the sides of her ribs - she had ached for him to move them forward until she could feel them on her breasts until his fingers could still the sensitive, gentle pain in her nipples - but he wouldn't acknowledge the pressure of her body as she strained back against him. It wasn't until she had finally reached behind her for his hands that it had seemed that she would feel the warmth of his hands on the swelling fullness of her breasts . . . But, instead of what she had wanted, he had stepped away from her and suggested that they go inside. She had wanted to cry out in frustration, not at his suggestion, but because it seemed that he didn't want her . . . that it was only she who felt this terrible need.
"Here, Laura, take one of these." Suddenly there he was with two drinks in his outstretched hands.
She reached for one of the glasses, trying to control the conflicting emotions that coursed through her- It was different than being outside in the concealing darkness - here it was bright and warm from the fire, and she could see the faint trembling in her hand as she reached, out. What had he touched so deep inside her that made her feel this way? She had thought that the light and openness inside would erase the flickering tongues of desire that made her body ache - but somehow it had become even worse. Their hands touched and as their eyes met she could see the stabbing grey-blueness in his. and it seemed that his body was projecting an aura of heat that enveloped hers. He looked so huge and golden with his deep tan and blonde hair ... so gentle and tender after the pawing clumsiness of her husband.
He paused seeming to check the lighting in the room, then he turned back to her.
"Come into my arms. Laura. I want to hold you . . ." His voice was deep and choked . . . and beckoning.
A soft, almost inaudible moan escaped her lips. She wanted to tell him no, that she couldn't do it - that it was wrong, all wrong - everything - but no words came as she felt his anus encircle her.
He held her for a moment and swayed slightly with the pliant warmth of her body, then he reached behind her for the still-unfastened zipper. He tugged it once more to assure that it was completely undone and then he stepped back away from her until only his hands touched the silken shoulders of her pink jumpsuit. His eyes roved across the one-piece outfit . . . over the trembling swell of her thrusting breasts to the slenderness of her waist... and downward, where the silk clung to the curves of her belly and thighs. He looked at her long, graceful legs, the smallness of her bare feet, then his eyes rose to hers again. Their light blueness seemed to be saying thousands of wonderful things to her as he gently tugged at the shoulders of her suit.
She stood motionless and silent, her long, black lashes shadowing her cheeks as the silken garment fell away from her arms and slid to her waist.
A low, throaty gasp came from his throat. The firelight seemed to have turned her into a breathing, golden goddess - the glow from the flames danced across her body in soft flickering curves of shadow and light, giving her skin a golden velvet depth. He'd known so many girls, most of them pretty and tanned and blonde - the ones who always followed the surfers around - but he'd never seen a body like this. Laura's breasts, even as large and full as they were, didn't sag at all but seemed instead to be.thrusting themselves forward at him . . . raised and proud . . . out of their clothing, even her whole body seemed to have taken on new, spectacular proportions. When he'd seen her dressed he'd been awed by the flawless beauty of her face and he'd been able to tell that she had a good figure by her movements and the graceful curve of her long leg; - but he'd never imagined that she'd look like this . . . Even that one time, when he'd peeked through the window and found her playing with herself, she'd had her back to him and her body hadn't been bathed in the glow of a fire as it was now . . .
God! She's magnificent! he thought to himself as he moved back a step and let the firelight wash across her. There weren't any sharp angles, any sudden shadows of thinness on her whole hody , . . and yet there was no place where she was too heavy . . , she seemed to be all soft golden curves. His eyes roamed across the luscious landscape of her body, down past the fall breasts with the nipples thrusting outward, slightly tipward in a direction to either side of him - down to the narrow tightness of her waist and the shell-like indentation of her navel. He held his eyes for a moment on the gentle curve of her stomach before he allowed himself to look lower. It was a soft and small curve, but somehow so much more sensuous than the flatness that he'd seen in other women . . . and there . . . below , . . the dark, almost black-violet boundary of silken ebony hair ... a triangle of shadowed velvet that disappeared into the juncture between her thighs. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but still he waited and let his eyes follow the downward path, the long, sensuous golden curves of her thighs until he stood before her with his head bowed like an obedient servant.
Then he raised his eyes and looked into hers and saw the troubled plea. He had no way of interpreting it, ot knowing how ashamed and frightened she was - to him, the trembling and tremulous expression only meant that she was ready, that she wanted him - and he began stripping his clothes away feverishly.
What am I doing? Oh my God! Why do I stand here and let him see me naked like this? Again and again, the thoughts ran through her mind and were made even more vivid by the sound of his clothes falling to the floor. I can't let it happen! I can't! And she closed her eyes to shut out the sight of his nakedness as he reached to strip off his shorts. Then she felt him move toward her, felt the movement even before the probing, hot touch of his penis as it brushed against her, and then crushed sidewavs against the softness of her belly ... a great, burning, heavy weight against her that told her so explicitly what was happening . . . what would happen . . .
His arms folded around her, lifting her up, and then he carried her to the huge rug by the fireplace and laid her down. Nothing seemed to matter to her anymore. The damning voice of her conscience that had been so loud had suddenly become softer until it was blanketed bv her husky breathing and the pounding of her heart. She felt the strange, chilling heat racing through her body and she opened her eyes to see his face. The room suddenly seemed so bright.
"Darling," she whispered huskily, "please turn off the lights . . ."
"I can't, he needs ... I ... I mean, I want them on so I can see you." His voice cracked, and he wondered if she'd realized what he'd said. He pulled her to him almost frantically and brushed his lips across the lobe of her ear.
"All of them?" she murmured and snuggled into the curve of his shoulder and seemed to forget completely the lights that filled the room.
I wonder if that dumb sonofabitch left me enough light, the man outside mumbled to himself, unaware that he'd stumbled onto their thoughts. He moved closer to the window, trying to position himself so that he had a full view of the couple on the floor. He'd been so busy gauging the exposure on the sensitive movie camera that this was the first time he could focus his attention on the dark-haired girl with Duke Hagel.
"Jesus Christ! What an ass!" he whistled softly. "Ol' Duke's doin' okay for hisself."
Inside, the big, smoothly muscled man leaned up from the girl beside him and looked down at her. Her face was flashed, she didn't open her eyes, and her lips were parted and quivering tremulously. Through the rush of desire he felt as he looked down at her goldenly symmetrical body he tried to bring his thoughts back into focus. He wondered if everything would work out alright, if Harry was where he was supposed to be with his camera. Goddamn it! If he isn't, it'll sure fuck everything up, he thought. And then as he looked down again at Laura's body he chuckled silently to himself. No, not Harry, if anybody's gonna fuck things up, I am!
One of her hands was on his hip, the fingernails scratching softly across the skin, but the other one - the one closest to the floor - was between his legs and slowly caressing an agonizing path toward the swollen stiffness of his penis - and soon her touch drove all other thoughts from his mind.
He dropped his head to her breasts, kissing them and sucking on the nipples until she began to squirm against him in unconscious ecstasy. He ran his lips down over her ribs, her belly which yielded softly against the pressure. He covered her hips with the heat of his breath, the teasing caress of his tongue, following the line that started high on her hips and curved inward toward the darkened juncture of her thighs. His tongue grazed across the soft, silkiness of curled hair and then moved away to the smooth warm-tasting skin of her now softly quivering thighs.
"Ohhhhhh . . . Ohhhhhhhh!" She seemed incapable of saying anything as her body arched and trembled against his.
He moved his lips slowly and tantalizingly back to the tops of her thighs, and he felt her turning over onto her back and limply spreading her legs
"Oh no ... I can't stand it ... please, I can't stand it!" she moaned.
But she didn't close her legs and he thought, You'll have more than this to stand before I've finished, you beautiful bitch.
Again, he lowered his lips to her and Laura felt her world spinning away from her in a sudden rush of heat. All conscious thought of where she was and why, or whose body she writhed against was lost in her memory. It no longer mattered as she felt the tiny licking flames running all around her, between the softness of her inner thighs, out the tips of her now throbbing and pebble-hard nipples, and down again to the burning core of her vagina where they roared into a white-hot heat.
"Oh God," her voice whispered softly without even knowing it had spoken. "Oh God."
Duke moved his head up for a moment and pressed his lips down over hers and immediately felt the hard rigid pressure of her tongue spearing up into his mouth in her unconscious quest for a warmer,, wetter contact with the devil-like thing that tortured her body so deliciously.
His hands continued to roam over her body and he ran them between her thighs that strained to spread even wider to admit him to the very core of her being.
"Ahhhhhhh . . . Ohhhhhh," she was sighing continuously up into his lips, her tongue pushed up into his and circling deep around inside as though searching desperately for another entrance to his mouth.
The heat and intensity of her passion spurred his own, building a pressure inside him that threatened to burst with explosive fury.
He couldn't stand it for another moment and he moved above her, slithering on top of her warm, soft, glistening body like a protective second skin. He could feel her quivering helplessly out of control beneath him and he reached down his sides with both hands and drew her unresisting thighs up the sides of his hips until the whole of her wet, throbbing vagina was presented up to him in welcome sacrifice. He held them there for a long, tortured moment and started to reach down and implant himself inside her - but stopped as he felt her hand burrowing down between their squirming bodies and her warm fingers close tightly around his rigid flesh. Then she was still for a moment and he held his breath for fear that she might have changed her mind. It was a long, long second later that he breathed out again in joyous relief as he felt her thumb tighten around the hot, pulsating head of his cock and slowly but firmly begin to guide him. The blood pulsed and throbbed through his swollen shaft as she gently pressed the moist, sensitive tip of his penis into the wet, heated and waiting lips of her vagina.
He could feel the soft silken pubic hair grazing gently against his prick as it hung poised for entry into the tight, trembling lips, and heard her soft, impassioned plea, "Oh Duke, slowly . . . slowly ... I want to feel you going inside me . . ."
The hot, smooth warmth was excruciating and it was all he could do to hold himself back from lunging forward to sink the whole of the heavy, pulsating weight jutting out from between his legs with one mighty flesh-splitting thrust into her helplessly impassioned and eager vagina.
Laura lay moaning in tiny unintelligible gasps that seeped between her tightly clenched teeth. Her body ached and she was only vaguely aware of the man who hovered over her. Her thighs and loins were wide apart and wet from a strange and delicious soft pressure that she herself remembered placing there an eternity ago, and her body hungered. Hungered deep inside her contracting vagina as though it were a ravenous animal waiting to be fed.
Duke levered up onto his hands until he was raised above the slowly undulating body of the trembling woman. Her face was contorted in indescribable rapture and her lips were pursed in a wet, rounded oval shape with tiny wisping groans of half-conscious pleasure escaping around the soft pinkness of her tongue as it circled ceaselessly, moistly around the inside of her mouth. He looked down between the contrasting softness and hardness of their bodies and could see his giant throbbing hardness pressed hugely into the liquid saturated folds of her pink and open cunt. The soft silk of her pubic hair surrounded his swollen, pulsing shaft of flesh in a lust-inciting fusion with his own lighter-colored curled hair . . . and the sight caused his cock to throb involuntarily against, and just barely inside her own warm, clasping flesh.
"Ohhhhhhhh!" she moaned aloud as she felt the wet, moist contact growing closer.
He looked down at her large firm breasts, with their pink erected nipples, as they swayed slightly outward from the centerline of her body and quivered tremulously with each soulful gasp that came from her throat. He pulled away from her slightly until his hard, swelling penis slipped from the warm, wet confines of her vaginal lips and moved forward up her chest, and then he straddled her with one leg on each side of her ribs.
The desire that had risen in him had grown into such explosive fury that it had wiped away all other thoughts . . . the man outside, the camera . . . the lights . . . nothing meant anything, except the overwhelming desire to rip the most complete fulfillment from this beautiful married woman who waited so eagerly beneath him. His hands trembled as he reached down and gently placed his throbbing penis in the narrow cleft between her breasts so that her warm, pulsating flesh enclosed him on both sides.
Her eyes opened momentarily but flickered shut again quickly as though she were afraid that she might lose the spell that hung over her body. Her lips were still parted, glistening in the soft light of the fire.
Duke's hands shook as he reached down and crushed the soft, resilient mounds of her breasts between his strong fingers until tiny ridges of white stood up between the dark tan of his fingers like the whiteness of the moon in the dark sky.
He kneaded and stretched at them - watching the whiteness ooze through his hands like firm, and yet soft, foam - springing back into their voluptuous shape the moment the pressure lifted. He pushed them together so that they met across her body and formed a velvet, yielding tunnel inside which his cock was so sensuously entrapped. He pressed them so hard that the nipples met at the top and then began a gentle rocking motion, thrusting his whole, swollen rigidity through the warm channel formed by her firm, white, rounded breasts. As he pushed, the swollen, red tip of his cock appeared at the far end of the warm soft tunnel and brushed gently against her chin, leaving a tiny spot of whitened moisture each time it touched.
He kept up the slow rocking motion between her quivering breasts for several moments, feeling his penis growing and expanding until he was afraid it would erupt into a great, gushing fountain of sperm before he was ready. He had to force himself to sit still for a moment and content himself with pushing and pulling at the maddening softness of the two throbbing mounds so warmly surrounding him. He tweaked at the nipples and rubbed them over the top of his cock together, one against the other, watching with bared teeth as they jerked and throbbed into an even greater hardness than he thought possible. At the same time, he studied her face and the reaction it was having upon her. It was electrifying!
Her eyes were open now and gazed unseeing up into the darkness at the top of the room. A thin, smoky veil of passion obscured their dilated pupils. Her hips and buttocks writhed sensuously on the robes beneath her, and then drawing up again as though searching for some invisible lover to draw inside them. She was completely out of control and Duke knew that she would do anything he wanted, and the thought made his body almost quiver with lust.
But there was just one more thing before he fucked her.
His eyes studied her full, red sensuous lips still moaning softly out into the air from her tortured need - and he thought of having them close hotly around his throbbing cock. He knew by the glazed look in her eyes that she no longer knew who he really was, and he wondered if she imagined him to be her husband. He thought of Harry out there, if he was out there, and decided that it would be better for the camera and the pictures if he could get her to take him in her mouth. That would really do it, he thought, there'd be no way for her to turn him down if Harry got that on film! Duke was lost for a moment in the contemplation of what Harry's work could mean to him in the future - God! It would be the break that he needed ... he knew that with his looks all he needed was the right 'in' and he could make a fortune in the movies. George Stoneham's wife! Her husband the biggest producer in Hollywood! Christ, he'd have it made! Now, if only Harry gets the pictures right ...
He looked down again at her mouth and saw her lipstick reddened lips wet and glistening from her tongue swirling around them as she lay suffering beneath him in unfulfilled desire. He wanted to shove his cock down in between them and he shuddered as the mere thought of that moist, warm cavern closing around it caused it to jerk and almost ejaculate where it lay between her breasts. The burning lust that rose so fiercely in his loins made him forget Harry, the films . . . all he wanted now was Laura Stoneham . . .
He moved up a little so that his knees were on either side of her neck and his long, swollen pulsing cock throbbed out directly over her face, presenting her unseeing eyes with a view of the sperm-filled ridge running beneath it. His balls lay gently against her chin. He was still for a moment, feeling the firm resilient mounds of her breasts flattened beneath his buttocks. He didn't move in order to give her mind time to adjust to the change in position. Whatever he did now must be slow so as not to break the spell she was under. If she ever returned to total consciousness he knew her mind would fight the dictates of her body and he didn't want her in a rape tonight - he wanted Harry's films to show explicitly that she had wanted him, that she was maddened by desire for him.
He placed both his hands gently behind her head and lifted it up off the rug beneath her, bending her neck up toward him so that her face and mouth were poised directly in front of the huge, palpitating head of his cock. He pushed forward slightly, his buttocks rolling on the cushion of her breasts, until the tip of his penis was pressed gently between her slightly open lips. He groaned when he felt the soft velvet surfaces of her lips brush against the sensitive skin of the head. Her mouth closed at the first touch and he held his breath waiting for a sudden cry of protest . . . but none came ...
Instead, her lips fell limply open and her head pressed forward of its own volition without his having to pull her to him. The movement caught him by surprise and then he watched with unbelieving delight as the tight, rounded oval of her mouth enclosed the tightly stretched skin of his pulsating prick.
She started using her tongue, slowly at first, and he could feel it moving in circles around him, causing his hardened cock to jerk in tiny spasms inside her mouth. Her lips were soft and warm and enclosed him in a tight, clasping elastic ring of flesh. Duke could feel them with pained intensity moving down his cock and taking as much of him as she could in her mouth - surrounding him with the hot moist warmth of her saliva and the tender inner flesh of her tongue. He pressed his hands on either side of her hollowing cheeks and pressed inward with his fingers.
Laura began to suck at the huge swollen shaft in her mouth with a moist, nibbling pressure and her tongue curled around him as though she had done this a thousand times before - though this was in reality the first time she had ever held a man this way. I had always wondered what this would be like, she thought hazily, but I could never have done it with George . . . he's so puritanical when he makes love ... so normal, and in a hurry as if there's something shameful alxnit it . . . it's as if he can't stand the way his orgasm makes him temporarily lose his precious self-control and be lowered to the basic emotions of mortal men. But even these thoughts were washed away in her mind as all the hunger burning deep in her vagina was now concentrated in one great gust of sensation in her mouth. God! It's so big ... so big and hot. she thought deliriously, and it feels so wonderful and masculine! She could faintly hear him groaning above her and she felt the insistent pressure of his hands against her cheeks. Again and again she sucked at him with all of her strength as if she were trying to draw him further and deeper into the fiery hunger of her body ...
Goddamn! Harry thought outside in the darkness as he focused the telescopic lens for a close-up. Look at that bitch suck! Man, that eunt really loves it ... Somehow I've gotta get some of that stuff for me! He watched intently, his eyes glazed with vicarious excitement, as he saw Duke pounding his great, swollen penis in and out. again and again into the beautiful girl's eager, ovaled mouth. His breath rasped from his throat as he watched Duke lift her head brutally by her hair, pulling her head from the floor, and thrust forward at the same time to ram his thick, turbid cock deep into her gaping mouth. God. she has to choke, he thought, from the tremendous size of that thing stuck in her throat. But she didn't, and he held his breath and tried to keep his eyes and his mind on the viewfinder of his ceaselessly grinding movie camera.
His hands trembled as he tried to steady the camera tripod and he wished the whirring sound wasn't so loud. Christ, I don't want to spoil this, he thought, and watched the girl suck hungrily at Duke's penis as though she had waited through all eternity for this magic moment. He saw Duke raise to his knees and with one hand holding Laura's head up by her hair and the other buried in the dark, spread triangle between her thighs, begin buffeting her body cruelly up and down on the floor. He watched in hungry fascination as Laura's elastic lips sucked with all their might on the huge, human instrument that nicked relentlessly into her mouth. Her cheeks hollowing, on the out-stroke and expanding obscenely on the in-stroke.
Though Harry couldn't see that closely from the outside, Laura's eyes were glazed with a wild, ecstatic film of animal lust that she had never dreamed existed. Its very rawness brought a moan to her lips and she felt the moistness seeping from her thighs in a wet, fiery flow.
Again and again, Duke drove into the eager, hungry heat beneath him. He wanted her to make him cum and he wanted to make her swallow It so that she would know even in her own mind that it was she and not he that had made this happen. He could imagine her horror when he showed her the films and he wanted her to know that it was her own hist that had made them possible and not just something that he had done. Somehow, he thought to himself, that way it won't seem so much like blackmail.
He flexed his hips in and out at the ovaled hole formed by her lips and rolled his buttocks on her soft, yielding breasts as though he were attempting to flatten them down into her chest. He watched wild-eyed from above as his thickrglis-tening flesh disappeared into her clasping lips like it was another hungry, nibbling cunt. He could feel all of himself, every nerve he possessed, pulsating and throbbing between her lips and into the moist cavity and warmth of her saliva-filled mouth.
He felt the tingling deep in his loins, watching the swelling and hollowing of her cheeks... feeling her licking him as she sucked, biting gently from time to time. Now, her eyes were seeing him, holding his, matching his look of furious passion with her own. He held her face tighter with his hands, guiding it, feeling the rhythmic movements deep inside her mouth. If he pressed inward he could actually feel his solidity in her mouth.
"Suck harder," he ordered throatily.
He felt her answering response - a greater pressure, a tighter embrace from the warmth of her lips. He felt his culmination growing into a burning fire in his loins - the pain almost driving him to climax.
He began to rock again slowly, flexing his loins forward as she sucked. She had released his prick from her hands and had reached behind him and was stroking his buttocks with them, running them teasingly across the soft, sensitive skin. She was breathing heavily, passionately, through her flared nostrils - and he could feel her hips moving again under him.
Her hands couldn't stay still on him and he felt them suddenly drawing lines of loin-convulsing sensation across and around his balls as they hung down across her breasts.
He gasped aloud at the new attack and shoved so hard that for a moment she fought for breath and nearly choked before reorienting her embrace.
He gasped again, tensing his loins. He could feel himself starting to cum . . . slowly at first in a sort of smoldering ember. She began to lick and suck with great urgency and a hot, clamping urgency spread rampantly through his body.
The ember grew. He flexed his loins at her even harder, holding her face and looking into her eyes that seemed to gasp into his in a strange visual voice.
Inside him the ember burst into flame and roared from the pit of its sensation . . . louder and more furious ... he looked deep into her eyes, owning her, subduing her beneath him, wracked with passion. The fire raced through him, quivered in his penis, trembling and threatening to overflow ...
The passion deep in his body neared sudden, violent explosion. His loins grew hotter and he was sweating between his legs, but still she sucked . . . burying her face between his thighs until he knew it was the end. The pressure building in his balls as they slapped against her chin while she drew him into her wildly sucking mouth even deeper - her passion and ecstasy beyond control - and the delicious pain in him becoming excruciating and unbearable. His cock seemed to inflate and lengthen beyond anything it had ever been before.
And then, suddenly, there was a jerk in his loins and nothing in the world could have stopped the liquid white flow that was rushing like a waterfall up from his aching balls and out the tip of his spasmodically jerking penis. He gripped her head tightly between his hands and shoved his cock deep into her throat. She groaned beneath him as the first needle thin spurt of hot, fiery liquid flooded into the back of her mouth, filling the warm, moist cavity, bloating and expanding her cheeks until they almost burst. Her throat worked gluttonously, swallowing and spluttering to keep from choking on the white flood of semen as he emptied his balls relentlessly into the depths of her throat.
Duke's body quivered above her as he felt the last of his masculinity drain from his rapidly deflating penis. He was momentarily exhausted and had to brace himself with his hands tangled in her black hair to keep from falling to the side of the rug. He started to lift himself from her but to his amazement she would not let his deflated organ from her lips. She continued to suck gently, undulating her buttocks behind him and rubbing her legs together hungrily. He watched with disbelief the tiny trails of viscous white semen trickling down from the corners of her mouth to her chin below. He had never in his life felt anything like what had just happened to him - it seemed that he had been completely drained of all the strength and desire that he had ever possessed.
But after a while she felt his penis begin to thicken again in the soft, now slippery, warmth of her mouth. She licked it and bit it gently . . . taking pleasure and delight in her power to bring it to life again after its cataclysmic collapse.
Then, when it had grown to its full size again, she felt the surge of desire and wanting growing again in her loins. She continued to nibble for a moment longer, curling her slippery tongue around and around him until she was certain that his swollen penis had restored itself to its full length and power... she'd never known anything like this before . . . such overpowering hunger and desire .
She let her head fall back onto the rug and his rejuvenated and throbbing organ slipped wetly from her mouth, trailing with it a thin string of semen from her glistening lips.
Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him through smoky, desire-ridden pupils for a silent moment, and then pleaded in a desperate whisper, "Fuck me . . . please!"
Laura reached for him, biting his lips and his neck. He began to caress her, to tantalize her, and her mind whirled with disbelief at the delicious pleasure she'd discovered with him. It taunted her, bringing her to a savage pitch of excitement ... a thunderous, growing passion that seemed to be lying in wait . . . waiting to explode with frightening fury.
Her thighs slipped and dug beneath him, trying to get him to mount her, and her arms pulled his face to her, his chest over against her breasts that strained up - digging into him with stiffened, erected nipples.
"Now, now," she murmured huskily. "Do it to me now!"
Duke hesitated, caressing her with his hands only until she was groaning wildly in ecstasy.
"Please, please, now, now," she begged, hardly able to utter the words, her hands squeezing blindly on his throbbing rod of flesh.
Finally, she felt him slithering farther up onto her - her body making a superb, burning cushion for him - and she swung her thighs outward and up again as she felt the smooth, pulsing head of his penis brushing against the eager warmth of her vagina. She gripped both his shoulders very tightly with her hands and felt her whole body quivering uncontrollably with emotion.
She ground against him, longing for him to plunge into her hot, liquid depths immediately, almost feeling tears comfe to her eyes as he made her wait. Finally, because she could stand it no longer, she released her hold on his shoulders and moved her hands downward . . . feeling for ...
and then finding his hardened, throbbing cock. She held it gently, holding her breath at the same time, then guided it between her open legs toward the beckoning warmth of her cunt.
Now! Now! her mind screamed at last in a final moment of fierce, violent joy. Now! She felt him thrust in with a long, excruciatingly slow pressure ... all the way in a bursting agonizing movement that lasted through a blinding eternity. A soft, choking scream escaped her clenched lips-changing to become quieter and muffled - and then she was motionless except for the spasmed quivering in her thighs - still for several seconds until she again drew her thighs up and clasped them across his back . . . her teeth nibbling into his shoulder.
"AAHHhhhhhhhhh," her moans continued on a slightly lower key, a continuous, gentle, lost groaning . . . the soft, mewling moans of ecstatic emotion and passion.
Laura opened her thighs farther, giving him wider access, and moved them back toward her shoulders, giving him greater depth - then she brought them back to his hips, moving and slithering against them as he pistoned his body, his huge swollen prick in and out of her hot, eager cunt. Her breasts flattened and rounded under his varying pressure and her eyes opened to look abandonedly into his as her groaning lips sought to touch, to kiss, to bite, to caress his face.
Her whole body seemed aflame, consumed in the ecstatic relief of her clenching containment - she could feel the fires building until it seemed that she must be dying. She knew that her orgasm would come quickly and there was nothing she could do about it ... and she tried to urge him to meet her quickening speed . . . to have him reach the same climactic completion simultaneously . . .
"Oh God! Oh God! Oh my God!" Laura's mind screamed out again and again in the velvet darkness of her senses. What's happening? What, dear God, is happening to me! That fire burning in my body . . . that fire ...
Over and over her mind cried out indiscernible screams of desire and pleasure. She had never known anything . . . never anything like this!
She squirmed under him, thrusting and pulling away, grinding her hips and her love-starved cunt up into and around him . . . building her lust into intense final pressure ...
She moved her hands around him, over his shoulder, down his back, to his buttocks that she could just reach. She pressed on them, pulling him deeper into her boiling depths, swinging her legs higher . . . encircling his thighs . . . and even further, until they gripped his waist. Her head began to move from side to side on the rug and her legs released his waist and swung down, straightening and flattening, gripping him again before falling away, almost at right angles to her body.
Duke's fingers slipped from the liquid heat of her wetly clinging cunt .and ran up the soft, jerking crease between her buttocks. He pulled the smooth, rounded cheeks apart, and she gave a gasp of passion through her moaning. He plunged a finger against the small tight barrier of her rectum and felt her give, his finger break through to the soft, inner flesh inside.
"Oh! Oh! Oh! . . . oh," she gasped again and again.
She began to writhe as if in a trance. It had to be soon! her mind screamed out to her. It had to be! The only thing she could feel was the all-consuming fire as he pounded into her, pulling back and thrusting again - with each thrust coming faster and more furiously.
Her eyes bulged wide and gaped up at him desperately. They seemed to be speaking to him, pleading with him, abandoning herself to him. Her mouth opened and her tongue came out - a long, point-tipped moist and perfectly smooth tongue. Duke lowered his lips to hers and bit the tongue gently. He ground into her clasping cunt now with slow, strong strokes. He couldn't keep his mouth on hers as he raised up, his hands cupping beneath her buttocks as he pulled them up, lifting her against him.
She wriggled furiously, her shoulders quivering and her breasts under his face. She groaned and looked into his eyes in a last gleam of passion and then her mouth opened in a great circle, her head dropped back, her thighs clasped him, and then she came ...
Rasping, aching gasps broke from her mouth, another and another, finally dv indling into body-wracking sobs of ecstatic passion.
Still cupping her churning buttocks in his hands and fired by the sight of her fulfillment, Duke himself trembled on the brink of release. Her beautiful body, heaving with passionate sighs, was in his hands. He looked down and saw her thighs hanging over his palms as he held her bottom. Her breasts swayed and heaved below him and that narrow waist was heaving too above the hips that he held off the rug.
He thrust savagely into her and felt his prick growing and swelling as if it would expand a thousand times and ultimately burst into a million shattered pieces. He ground slowly, slowly, extracting every blinding sensation from the slow, long strokes. His breath was rising up from his chest, rising up through his throat in great bellowing heat. He felt the quick fire darting through his loins and come racing into his mind and senses. He surged up into her belly as the breath broke from his throat, twisting his mouth out into an agonized explosion. He felt the pressure of her thighs renewed and fleetingly heard a faint gasp echoing her recognition of his orgasm as it ricocheted wildly through the depths of her smooth, quivering belly.
For several moments he slammed into her, then slowly he collapsed onto her warm, cushioning flesh and felt her arms circle him gently and her lips, light and tender, on his cheek . . .
Chapter Two
It had all started less than a week ago.
Laura Stoneham had just come out of the kitchen with her fourth cup of coffee and curled up again on the curved couch by the window. She sipped at the bitter coffee and looked with disgust at the disarray in the living room from the night before. Ashes from the fireplace had blown onto the thick white rug and she wondered if she'd ever be able to remove the stain from the spilled glass of burgundy.
As she snubbed out another cigarette in the ashtray full of half-smoked butts, most of them from that morning, her thoughts returned again to her husband and her puzzlement at the direction of her marriage.
Last night had been another night like so many others. George had come in a little high from a cocktail meeting with some writers or something, she didn't remember - it didn't matter, there were always meetings it seemed - writers, stars, who knows . . . just meetings, that kept him away from home. She thought a little sadly about the way it used to be when he came home late or after a few days on a trip. He'd always greet her with an embrace and apologize for being away, and tell her how he'd missed her but that seemed like years ago. Now it was almost as if he didn't notice her. If he said anything at all, it was just that he'd had a hell of a day or that he was exhausted, or disgusted with something that had happened on the set. Then he'd brush past her to the bar, make a drink and head for the living room. That was, if he came home at all. More often than not he'd call from the lot and say that he had an early call and was going to stay in town at the apartment next to the studios.
She wondered where everything had gone wrong, and when it had started. Had it been her fault?
She sipped her coffee and lit another cigarette. Had it been something that- she had done? It couldn't have been about his work - she'd discovered only a few months after their marriage that her efforts to use his work as a topic of conversation wasn't what he wanted. Unlike most of the people she'd met in Hollywood, and particularly in the movie industry, George Stoneham didn't have a burning compulsion to talk about himself or his work. She knew from watching the way he handled the people, the Big Ones and the Small, and from what she'd heard, that he truly deserved his reputation as one of the most talented producers and directors in Hollywood . . . but he seemed removed from the supreme ego syndrome. And finally he'd told her one night that his work drained him during the day and that it was the last thing that he wanted to talk, or even think about when he got home. So it couldn't be that he felt she wasn't interested enough in what he was doing.
As a matter of fact, he'd seemed pleased when she told him that she'd tired of all those people he had to run around with and would rather move out of town, away from' the lots and spend most of her time at the beach house. What was it then?
Another woman seemed the most logical answer, and Lord knows she'd thought about that often enough, but she was sure that .wasn't it. Maybe I'm being naive, she thought, but I know I could tell if that was it. There were just too many reasons why it couldn't. Well . . . perhaps not many, but the reasons that were there seemed valid enough. One, and the most logical, she thought sarcastically, was that trying to keep a secret like that in their circle of 'friends' was not only impossible but utterly ridiculous . . . she had what she knew the wives of the men her husband worked with enviously called 'the perfect marriage' and at the slightest hint of George being involved with someone else they'd find some way, no matter how subtle, of letting her know about it.
But there was another reason that it couldn't be another woman. She was young, intelligent and beautiful, and she knew that her husband considered her sensitive and thoughtful ... so all that could be left would be sex . . . and she felt almost certain that he had no reason to look elsewhere. If anything, it would be the other way around, she thought bitterly. No, that's not really fair, she scolded herself. I know how busy and tired he is. It isn't his fault. If only he didn't make love to me like some cold, automated machine! She'd found in a short time that sex was probably the only area where she and her husband differed. It wasn't that he was 'frigid,' or a latent homo, or something like that - it was just that his appetite or libido, or whatever it was, was less than hers. She'd never been very promiscuous before she'd married him and she didn't think that she had any abnormal lust for sex - it just seemed that he had relegated the sexual act to a certain importance and frequency in his life, not a very large part, and that it took very little to satisfy his needs. It was this that made her feel assured that he'd turned to no other women for an additional sexual outlet. His habits hadn't changed with her. Every Thursday night. Unless, of course, he had decided to spend the evening in town - and then he'd just shift to the next night that he came home ...
Maybe this is just the way marriages go, she thought sourly, even 'perfect' ones like ours.
She took another look around the living room and almost decided that George was right, maybe she should get a live-in maid . . . but that would erase the only real reason that she'd decided to move out here rather than stay in town. Her privacy.
After two years of Studio cocktail parties with people that she didn't like, phonies on the lots, and worst of all, all the bitchy wives that she'd had to put up with, she'd made her decision to spend some time out here away from them all. It wasn't as if she was living the life of a hermit. She went into town frequently - the shows, shopping . . . but it seemed so peaceful and clean out here. She had a chance to do a lot of reading, and she'd even tried her hand at oil painting though it didn't look like she'd ever be able to get those damned waves right.
Well, hell, she'd clean up the house in a little while. Maybe a Bloody Mary first?
That's something new, she thought to herself, it really is getting to me. I've never made a drink for 0iyseif before noon. Maybe it is time I moved back into Westwood ...
Though the house was in need of a little cleaning, Laura Stoneham, as she stood at the bar, was impeccably groomed. Her long black hair, even falling loosely about her shoulders, was carefully brushed and her slacks and halter were spotless and obviously chic and expensive. She was tall and superbly proportioned, and looked several years younger than her twenty-seven years. And there was an animal, cat-like grace in her movements as she walked back to stare out the huge plate glass window that faced the Pacific.
I wanted privacy, she thought as she looked out over the broad expanse of deserted beach, and I guess I've really got it. The nearest neighbors were more than a mile away in each direction and her private beach covered almost the entire distance. Laura knew that George had inherited most of the beach property, even before he'd become such a successful producer, and she'd often wondered what it was worth. This stretch of ocean-front land just north of Malibu was fabulously valuable, but the one time she'd actually asked George how much it was worth he'd only laughed and said that it was like owning a small ranch in downtown Dallas.
Beachhouse? She laughed. The house alone that he'd given her two years ago was worth alxnit a quarter of a million dollars and would have been a mansion in her home town Fresno. Well, at least I'll never be poor . . . not in money anyway, she thought. She loved the house and the feeling of walking those long streehes of beach and knowing that it was all hers. I must have walked that white sand a thousand times and still it's always new and changing because of the sea. She could go for days and never see a soul, and then it would only be a stray picnicker who'd say that he hadn't seen the signs that posted the area as private. Some of them must have gotten quite a thrill to have me come across them completely nude, she thought, for at first she had often strolled the beach without a bathing suit because she had no fear of anyone seeing her - it wasn't until one man had gotten a little out of hand when she came across him that way that George had made her promise not to do it again. It was true, she supposed, that she was inviting rape, but still - she missed those long early morning walks, the sun and spray covering her whole body. It was just like being reborn into a new and sparkling world!
God! this had to be the most beautiful spot on the earth. After the dry, flat heat of Fresno ...
The sea was a startling combination of deep and light blues and the curling waves carried surf and whitecaps that seemed unbelievably white. And she shared it with no one, except the seagulls and an occasional stray whale that sounded offshore.
Laura Stoneham sipped her Bloody Mary and watched the surf crash oh the shore. It was another beautiful day, almost piercingly clear, and the waves rolled in in great, long, ribboned tunnels ... it's funny, she thought, if you watch the waves long enough it seems that the beach is moving instead of the water.
She stood there for several moments, lost again in the contemplation of her marriage, when a movement in the water several hundred yards offshore caught her eye. During the first few seconds that she watched it, it seemed to take many different shapes. First, she thought it might have been a seal or sea otter that had come farther south than normal . . . then it appeared to be bigger, a basking shark or a whale.
It wasn't until the figure raised to his knees on the board and turned, paddling to catch a wave, that she realized someone was surfing. She tried to catch a better glimpse of him but he kept disappearing out of sight as the swells rose ahead of him. The sight of the unknown surfer had entered and disturbed her thoughts, seeming to erode her privacy, and with a grimace of annoyance she took a pair of binoculars out of the desk.
It's probably one of those damn kids again, she thought angrily; well, this time I am going to call the cops! I've told them a hundred times that this is private, and that I don't want them surfing here.
She raised the powerful binoculars to her eyes and seconds later had them focused clearly on the figure out in the water. The spotting glasses made him seem only a few feet away but his back was to her and she couldn't see what he looked like. But as she watched him rising and falling gently with the swells and noticed his size and grace as he balanced himself on the surfboard, she realized that if he was a 'kid' he was the biggest one she'd ever seen. His back was huge and laced with great bands of muscle, and even crouched and motionless as he was, they rippled powerfully across his back. He was tanned the color of deep mahogany and her curiosity rose until she began to wish that he would turn around so that she could see his face.
Still he waited there, only his hands moving gently to keep the board nose into the waves, then his head suddenly raised and he appeared to have seen something, Then Laura saw it. A huge swell rising on the horizon. It kept growing closer, roaring inland with such speed and size that it frightened her. Suddenly, the man who moments ago had looked so big was completely dwarfed by the arching wall of water that rushed toward him.
Good God! she- thought, it'll kill him!
He looked like a tiny speck on a mountain of blue-green and he furiously paddled around and faced the shore. His head was down, and she still couldn't see his face as he began paddling with great unhurried strokes to position himself just ahead of the curl of the gigantic wave.
She lost him for a second in a rising screen of wind-blown spray . . . there he was . . . standing.
He was moving too fast for her to follow him with the binoculars and when she moved them away from her eyes he suddenly became very tiny and fragile in the face of that great wall of water. Laura watched incredulously as the huge wave seemed to be trying to devour the helpless figure before it ... chasing him like a great voracious beast . . . seeming to catch him . . . but no, there he was, his board still angled almost vertically on the incline of water that fell away in front of it. Each time the spraying curl would seem to envelop him he would appear again only feet, or inches, ahead of it.
The wave was tremendous, the largest she'd ever seen offshore from her house.
They, the man and the predatory wave, were closer now . . . about two hundred yards from shore . . . then she saw him angle his board to his right and he began to pick up even more speed as he headed into the great, barrel-like tube formed by the wave as it angled toward the beach.
He seemed to be right inside the wave now, crouched forward almost at the tip of his board, and riding inside that roaring tunnel of water. It broke right at his back, thundering down with thousands of tons of water just behind his shoulders, and she knew that if he made only one mistake ... if he allowed the curl to catch him . . . the crashing water would snap the surfboard and him like fragile, brittle matchsticks.
God, it's incredible! It's beautiful, she thought. She knew now that the wave would never beat him. He was completely forward on his board now, his toes curled over the tip, and he seemed to be laughing at the crest of water as it tried to catch him.
She watched him as he moved swiftly to her left, still riding the wave until he was a couple of hundred yards down the beach from her, then she saw him move back on the board and kick down with his feet and turn the nose of the board back and through the wave. Suddenly, there he was, straddling the surfboard in quiet water again just outside the curl that crashed onto the beach.
It's the most graceful and beautiful thing I've ever seen, she thought wonderingly as he waited for the surf to die down and then paddled in to the shore.
He's coining back up here, she said to herself and then wondered why that should excite her so. But still, she raised the binoculars and watched him as he approached her.
Her heart seemed to beat faster as the surfer, Duke Hagel, came closer. Good God, he's magnificent! she thought as the binoculars brought him clearly into her vision. She guessed his age to be about twenty-six, though he was actually two years older, and he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. That thought surprised her, because she'd met most of the male actors down at the studio with George and their almost-too-pretty looks had always repulsed her. But the man who walked toward her on the beach had none of their prettiness, instead he looked like some great, rugged Nordic lumberjack who'd somehow been magically supplanted from the forests to Malibu beach.
He was very big, about six-four, and heavily muscled - muscular without looking like one of those freaks down at Muscle Beach - and very tanned.
As he approached she was a little surprised that his looks attracted her so because he was blond and she'd never really cared for blond men before. Maybe it was his tan and the craggy, rug-gedness of his face and the curled mat of hair on his chest that saved him from having the too-clean All-American appearance that she detested in most fair-haired men.
Duke carried the large surfboard, known as a 'big gun' because of its size and usage in heavy surf, easily on his shoulder as he walked toward the house that overhung the cliff. He'd already seen the flashing reflection behind the picture window that faced him and had decided that Laura Stoneham was finally watching him through a telescope or a pair of binoculars.
Everything seems to be working out just as planned, he thought contentedly. This was the third time he'd surfed off the Stoneham house but it was the first time he'd seen any indication that Laura Stoneham knew that he was there. As he neared the house he tried to appear as though he was completely unaware that anyone was watching him.
Goddamn, if this thing works out, I'm really gonna have it knocked!
Laura Stoneham watched him walking toward the beach in front of her house and then he stopped. He's coming up here, she thought frantically, what can he want? But then he just glanced unconcernedly at the house again and turned back to face the ocean as he sat down on the beach. She wondered then why the thought of him coming to her door had frightened her. She wondered why he meant anything to her . . . just another surf bum who'd encroached on her private beach. God, it gives me such a strange feeling to be watching him, she thought curiously, what is it about him that makes him so attractive! She was unaware that she'd stood without moving for almost twenty minutes as she watched him walk up the beach, and now as he sat less than a hundred yards from her she felt a quivering chill run down her back.
She'd forgotten about the house, the drink on the table and the worries she'd had earlier about her marriage - now, all that seemed important to her was to watch the man who lay on the sand in front of her. The binoculars brought him so close to her that he seemed to be next to her, only feet away, and she could see the light down of golden hair that covered his body. He was lying on his back, his feet toward the water, facing away from her.
Strangely, as she stared at him, the powerful muscles laced across his shoulders, and the gentle rising and falling of his chest, she felt a warm wave of desire course through her body and down into her loins. He was so big, so masculine, and she wanted to reach out and touch him. And it was made so much more secret and exciting by the fact that she couldn't. . . nor could he touch her. The quiet sanctity of her house protected her and at the same time allowed her to watch him, each move of his body, without being detected.
Completely lost in her thoughts she stared at his body, past his shoulders and chest to his swim trunks and the bulge beneath them. He must be huge . . . huge and hot . . . and then her breath caught in her throat as he reached inside his trunks with one hand and seemed to be adjusting the curled confinement of his manhood He withdrew his hand and her sudden gasp shattered the stillness in the house. Somehow, the way he had moved himself or the looseness of waistband of his trunks, had exposed his penis to the rnagnify- ing eyes of the binoculars. She could see it lying softly against his stomach in its nest of golden hair, and the provocative sight made her heart race madly as the heat spread through her body. God! Even still and in repose like that, it was huge!
Laura Stoneham was totally unaware of what she was doing as she lowered the binoculars to the table and with both hands began to caress the aching need between her thighs . . .
Finally, the overpowering rush of desire caused by the sight of him and the touch of her own hands became too much for her and she moved trembling to the long, curved couch in the center of the living room.
Chapter Three
Duke lay there on the beach for several minutes, his eyes closed against the blinding glare of the sun, and wondered about his plan and the best way to put it into action. He didn't underestimate his success with women; God knows there were enough of them that chased him, but Laura Stoneham didn't strike him as the type that would be a pushover. He'd seen her several times down at the village shopping center, running around in her Thunderbird convertible, and even though he was always on the make he'd never considered approaching her because she seemed so aloof and self-confident. If it hadn't been for that day when that man had come up to him ...
Oh well, he thought, the first step's going alright-although that doesn't mean very much. After all, all he'd really accomplished was to catch a good wave out in front of her house. 'Course, she had been watching him all the time, he was sure of that. Now, he just had to figure out what the next step would be.
He turned and looked back at the house. No reflection. That doesn't look so good, he thought. She wasn't watching him anymore, and she was still in the house because he hadn't heard her take the car out of the carport.
He got up, flexing his muscles lithely in the heat of the sun, and started to take his surfboard back into the water. Hell, the surf isn't any good now and I'd probably just be wasting my time, he thought with a touch of annoyance. Then he looked back at the house. Why doesn't she come out here where I can talk to her; I'm not going to get anywhere this way! Shit! She's probably like all the rest of those good-lookin' rich broads. Cold as ice, and too much of a snob to talk to some beach bum like me!
The more he thought about it the angrier he became, and finally Duke Hagel decided to go up to the house. I better think of some excuse before I get there, he thought as he climbed the cobblestoned path. Hell, I'll just ask her if I can use her phone. Or maybe I ought to borrow a cup of sugar, he laughed to himself.
He reached the top step and had just turned to go around to the front door when he heard a soft, whimpering moan through the open window at the side of the house.
At first it sounded like someone crying and he started to hurry past the window when a movement inside caught his eye.
It was Mrs. Stoneham on the couch. What was the matter with her? What the hell was she doing? The thoughts raced through his mind and it was a second later before her movements became clearer and he realized what was happening ...
"Jesus Christ! she's playing with herself!" he murmured aloud, unable to believe his eyes.
She had her back to him and he couldn't really see her - but the slacks pushed down her legs and the flashing whiteness of her thighs as they strained against the movements of her hands made it obvious what she was doing.
He wished there was some way that he could get around to the other side of the house and watch her from the front, but that side of the living room faced right out over a sheer cliff and there was no way that he could get up to the window. Still, the fact that he couldn't actually see what her hands were doing didn't seem to matter very much to his body . . . the mere thought of the way she was bringing pleasure to herself had him ache throughout with desire ... his penis rose and throbbed beneath his trunks and his testicles threatened to burst with burning lust. Her head was thrown back and he could hear the soft, moaning sounds that escaped from between her tightly clenched teeth, and he could see her shoulders shaking with the movement of her hands.
God! he thought as he rubbed his sweating hands across the bulge beneath his trunks, this is going to be as easy as he said it would! If she's as horny as that I shouldn't have any trouble at all!
Christ! If I can only get in there now while she's that hot I'll probably have her begging me for it!
Duke started to hurry around the corner of the house when he heard the car pulling into the driveway. Oh shit! he thought as he waited and hoped that it was only someone turning around, then he heard the car door slam as someone got out. He ducked back behind the concealing corner of the house and then hurried angrily back down to the beach and picked up his surfboard.
Moments later he had climbed into his old Plymouth several hundred yards down the beach and driven off with a frustrated burst of speed.
The atmosphere in The Keg was the same as most of the small beer bars found along the beach. Smells of smoke, stale beer, and the click of bails on the three-quarter-size pool table filled the two rooms and about fifteen of the local beach crowd slouched around at the bar or at the small tables. Most of the talk and laughter was loud and boisterous, but at a table in the corner Duke was whispering quietly to a man named Harry Vincent.
"Look, I'm telling you, Harry," he continued, "that's all there is to it. All you have to do is get some clear shots of me screwing Laura Stone-ham, it'll be better with a movie camera if ya got one, and I'll pay you as soon as I see the film."
"Yeah, Duke, that's great," Vincent said sarcastically. "I can do that easy enough, but where in the shit are you gonna come up with the dough? I seen you scrounging around, man, you ain't got the money this is gonna cost! Especially with a movie camera."
"Don't worry, don't worry." Duke said and called for another pitcher of beer. "Maybe I don't have the money, but I got someone who'll give it to me ... all you gotta do is tell me how much it's gonna cost," then he paused, "or maybe you'd like me to give the job to someone else instead of a two-bit photographer like you."
"Hey, man, don't get your balls in an uproar, I was just kidding," Harry interrupted quickly, and then he added with a suspicious tone in his voice. "You're sure you can get the money, huh?" At Duke's nod he continued, "Yeah, I can do it, but it'll cost you two hundred scooties. Can you get that much?"
"Two hundred dollars! Are you kidding!" Duke laughed. "Shit, I can get it done by better men that you for half that!"
"Yeah, but are they gonna keep their mouths shut the way I will? I don't even want to know where you're gonna get the money," Harry Vincent lied.
Their voices dropped and soon a price was agreed upon; it wasn't two hundred dollars but it was enough to make Duke hope that Harry's promise not to say anything made the amount worthwhile.
"Thursday. Remember, you be here an' I'll call you before seven," Duke said just before he left. "If I can make it with her I'll know by then, and then you gotta be over there by eight at the latest."
"Yeah, Duke, don't sweat nothin' . . . you get the dough, and I'll be there. I can use the bread, man, but remember," he added menacingly, "if you cross me - me and the boys can make you wish you didn't!"
"Mrs. Stoneham, may I give you a hand?"
Laura turned, startled at the intrusion of a voice she'd never heard before. The grocery cart almost slipped from her hand before she regained her composure. It was that man!
"Wha-what? Oh, yes, thank you," she murmured, "that's very kind of you ... Mr. . . . Mr____uh . . ."
"Hagel . . . Duke Hagel," he answered softly. "I'm sorry to intrude but you seemed to be carrying so many groceries, and I wondered if I could help?"
"I'd appreciate it, Mr. Hagel," she said uncertainly. "These carts have a way of running away with me . . . excuse me if I'm so blunt, are you a friend of my husband's ... I don't remember us meeting ..."
"No," he interrupted, almost too quickly. "It's just that I was surfing on your beach the other day ... I didn't know that it was private . . .
and someone, a friend of mine, pointed you out. I wanted to apologize, and giving you a hand seemed to be the best way."
"Then it teas you, Mr. Hagel, I ..."
"Please, it's Duke, or Vince, though most of my friends call me Duke for some reason, then you did see me. I'm sorry ... I won't do it again. I didn't know, you see, and the surf always seems to be a little better there." - "No, no, I don't mind," she added, a little flustered. "It just surprised me to see someone out there ... you ride ... I mean, you surf so beautifully."
"Thank you, is this your car?" he asked almost abruptly as he rolled the cart up to the parked Thunderbird convertible.
"Why, yes, thank you, how did you know? Did your friends even tell you that?" she added almost coquettishly.
"No." He seemed embarrassed. "I've seen you before, it's just that I didn't know that it was your beach that I ... I was . . ."
"I'm just kidding, Duke, here . . . please ... put the groceries on the back seat. I have to take the car in for service down at Mark's and it's too much trouble to take them out of the trunk again."
"At Mark's? But, how are you getting home?"
"Oh, I suppose they'll give me one of their loan cars," she answered without thinking.
He paused for a moment, seeming to Laura as if he was trying to build up bis nerve, then he asked her: "Can you drive an old Plymouth, Mrs, Stoneham?"
"A Plymouth? Why?"
"Well, I was just down at Mark's earlier trying to get some work done on my car, and they told me that they didn't have any loaners . , . you could put your groceries in my car and take it home and then I'd drop yours off at Mark's . . . and catch a cab a little later."
"That's ridiculous," she answered immediately. "You can't do that. I... I don't even know you!"
"I'm sorry ... I only meant . . ."
Then she realized how rude her words must have sounded to someone who was only trying to help her. "I didn't mean that, Duke, I only meant that ... I couldn't ask you to do that. It's very kind of you, but it would be ridiculous for you to take a cab. I can take a cab and you won't have to go out of your way."
"Please, Mrs. Stoneham, I intruded on your privacy the other day and I'd like to repay you in some way... Say? Can I give you a lift home?" Then he added gently, "Please, it's not out of my way."
"Well . . . why, yes, that's very kind of you ... if you're sure that I'm not causing you any trouble." Laura's mind whirled in a tumbling confusion of thoughts. He seemed so nice, not at all what you'd expect from a 'surfer' and, God! he was so beautiful!
It had only taken a second for him to rush into the garage and tell them what she wanted done with her car and then she found herself beside him in his old Plymouth. She was silent for sever- al moments as they pulled away from the village, watching him, his rugged Greek profile etching itself into her brain and then she spoke:
"Have . . . have you been surfing long, Mr. Hagel?" Even to her, her voice sounded tremulous and unsure.
"Surfing? No, it's just a hobby . . . though I'll admit I like it." And the deep masculinity of his voice sent a strange chill racing through her body. "No, I'm an engineer, Mrs. Stoneham, but I'm on vacation, and it's wonderful to have the time to get out on the beach. I'm in San Francisco most of the time and that's why, when I came home, I didn't realize that I was on a private beach."
"You keep mentioning the beach, Duke, why? Really, I don't mind."
"You don't? But my friends told me . . ."
"What? That I chased everyone off? That's only the kids, Duke, if I let them hang around I'll go through that beach party thing again, the drums and beer and everything . . . but it's different with you . . . Why, the other day when I watched you, I ..." Laura paused, suddenly, realizing where her words were leading her, and then, at the same time, it seemed that it was a sentence that had to be finished. "Duke, when you were surfing the other day ... of course, I didn't know who it was, but it was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Where did you ever attain such grace? I mean . . . you . . . you look so muscular and it doesn't seem ..." This time she really couldn't find any words to finish a thought that she was unsure of to begin with.
"The muscles? Well, they came from a lot of boxing that was forced onto me by my father. That's the only sport that I know of that's more strenuous than surfing," he answered modestly, not seeming to notice her hesitation. "I don't know if I can explain this, Mrs. Stoneham, I know I'm not a kid anymore, but surfing . . . well, surfing is something different. It's like you were out there all by yourself, which you are, I guess, but it's different. It's like it was you against the sea and there's no one there to help you. You have to do it all by yourself, and you have to do it right, and there's no one else you can blame. I don't know if I'll ever get over the thrill of catching a huge wave that could kill me, and then making it work for me instead. I'm sorry," he seemed lost in' thought, "it's something I can't explain to someone who doesn't surf."
"No, Duke, I think I know what you mean. I could almost feel it myself when I saw you. You seemed to be challenging something so much bigger than you are, and then to win, it must be the most beautiful thing in the world."
Suddenly, Duke realized that he had stopped laughing in his mind at the woman who sat.next to him. At first, no matter how beautiful she was, he had laughed to himself at how easy everything was going, he'd laughed at the realization that she could fall for the line that he was giving her. Now, he.began to know that there was something rare about her. Not the surfing. Sure, he loved it, always had, and that was why he was so good at it, but she seemed to feel the same feeling he had always known . . . that there was more than just a board and some water ... it was a challenge . . . and it was knowing that you were the best at something. Christ! She was a beautiful woman! No, not just beautiful . . . she was someone that he could talk to ... could make feel the way he did . . .
He almost wanted to call the whole thing off.
"Mrs. Stoneham ... I ..."
"Call me Laura, Duke, the other way you make me feel so old . . . how old are you?"
"Twenty eight," he answered automatically, and then as he felt the beckoning softness in her voice he wanted to reach across and take her in his arms, to somehow tell her that he had found more beauty in her than just the beauty in her face. But then, again, the soft sensuality of her voice interrupted him.
"See! You've been treating me like an old . . . uh, older woman . . . and you're three years older than I am. So, now, will you please call me Laura?"
"Okay, Laura it is," he answered, wishing she would do something that would make him dislike her - it would be so much easier that way. His deceit made everything seem so dirty, and she didn't deserve it.
He saw the cornerstones on the gate of her beachhouse and wished that the trip had taken longer. There was so much more that he wanted to talk to her about and he felt there wouldn't be time, Goddamn it! Why did she have to be so nice to him!
"That's it, in there, Duke," she said and pointed for hi.n.
He made the turn abruptly and apologized that he'd only seen the house from the beach front and didn't know which turn was hers.
"You ..." he'd almost said her husband. Christ! he was going to have to be careful. "Do you live here alone, Laura.-"
"What? Oh, no. My husband and I. What's tonight? Thursday? He won't be home tonight; he has to stay in town. He's a producer at one of the studios," she explained quickly, and wondered why she had so voluntarily mentioned George's absence for the evening.
"Here, I'll give you a hand with these." And Duke reached for the bags of grocrr- :n the back seat. "And then, if I can use , "m- phone I'll check on a cab and leave you mv car."
"Don't be silly. You may need it. I can always have them bring my car out to me tomorrow . . . besides, you've done too much already."
"It's no trouble, Mrs. ... I mean, Laura . . ." he said as she held the door for him.
"Duke, I'm not going to argue with you. You go into the living room while I put some of these things in the refrigerator and then I'll make you a drink." He set down the three bags and then followed the direction of her hand and found himself in the room that brought a warm rush of memories to his mind.
There was the couch! That's where he had seen this beautiful woman masturbating herself!
Laura Stoneham walked back into the kitchen and left him standing there - and he almost felt that if he closed his eyes and concentrated, he would be able to recreate the sensual scene he'd witnessed only two days earlier. There, on the couch. The flashing ivory of her thighs as her hands probed . . .
"Duke, the bar's there in the corner. Would you make me a very dry martini?" Her voice from the kitchen broke into the maelstrom of his thoughts and he snapped back into the present, and what he must do.
There was the clatter of movement and the closing of cabinets as she put the groceries away in the kitchen, and the soft sound of music as she pushed a button somewhere and the stereo began to play. Duke looked around at the luxuriousness of the living room, the expensive furniture and the paintings, and it was that more than anything else that made him resolve to go through with everything.
Someday, he would have a house like this, the easy freedom of money, and until then, he couldn't let anything stand in his way. Once he had it, perhaps then he cduld try to make up for the wrong things he had done to attain it. But, for now, there was only one way to do things, and he would do it ... no matter who he hurt.
He turned with the two martini" in his hands just as she walked into the living } oom.
"Thank you, Duke. Have a seat" Laura motioned toward the couch.
Duke sat in the same place he'd seen her sitting two days ago and somehow it gave him such a vicarious thrill that he thought for a moment that he'd be unable to stand it.
Laura hoped he didn't notice the tremor in her voice as they talked. She didn't know what caased it; it was just that watching him as he sat there, so big and masculine, caused a strange prickling sensation in her flesh and her nervousness found its way into her voice.
"Duke, I hope I'm not keeping you from something that you have to do. I just wanted to offer you a drink in return for your help."
"Oh no, Mrs. . . . Laura, I didn't have anything definite planned," he answered quickly. "Most of the friends I grew up with here seem to have moved away and I really haven't been doing very much."
"Don't you have any girlfriends here?" Now, why did I ask that silly question? What's the matter with me.
"Pardon me? Oh, not really, Laura. The girls I knew are all married, and the others I've met on the beach are too young or too immature," he answered as solemnly as he could. Christ! Why is she making it so easy for me! Goddamn it! If only I'd met her under different circumstances.
He noticed that she hurriedly changed the conversation but the inference of her words still hung over them like an unanswered cloud. They talked for almost an hour longer, about surfing and engineering. Duke had actually majored in structural engineering at U.S.C., though he'd never finished, and he felt sure she believed his story about being home on vacation.
"Can you stay for dinner. Duke?" she asked softly as he rose to fix another martini. "I tpld my husband I wanted privacy and that's why I moved out here, but it is a little lonesome sometimes." Then she added quickly, as if trying to erase the reason she'd just given, "I mean, it's been so nice to have someone to talk to. He's usually away and I really am interested in hearing more about surfing."
"Well, yes ma'am, I can, if you're sure it's not too much trouble. I'm getting tired of eating out, and the way I cook, eating out's a matter of survival."
"What would you like? We can broil some steaks, or there's ..."
"Steak would be fine," he interrupted softly and handed her her third martini, his fingers brushed hers momentarily and she felt that strange chill race up her spine again. "Could I use your phone for a moment, Laura? I had told a friend of mine that I might go to the movie with him, but it's a movie I'd already seen anyway."
"Of course, use the one in the kitchen. I'll put on some music and change into something more comfortable." She got up as he did and her hip seemed to accidentally brush his.
Laura walked a little unsteadily to her bedroom; the martinis had affected her more than she thought, and as she reached for her pink jumpsuit she wondered at the strange excitement that made her hands tremble. I'm not doing anything wrong, she thought guiltily. George has always told me that I should invite people over for dinner when he's away. Although I'm not sure he'd want me to invite this one over if he saw him. A smile crossed her lips as she tried to imagine her husband jealous. The way he's been lately, he probably wouldn't even notice, she thought wryly.
Laura had come back into the living room, made herself another martini, and had already started thumbing through the reels of taped music when she suddenly realized that she wore nothing beneath her jumpsuit. No underwear! Why! Why did I do that! The question almost frightened her. He won't notice, he couldn't tell, she thought hurriedly. We'll just have a quick dinner and then I'll tell him I'm tired and I probably won't ever see him again ...
"... yeah, Harry, tonight. Everything's set up," Duke whispered into the phone. "And, Goddamn it, don't blow it!" He looked quickly toward the living room. "Look, man, I've got to get back in there. I'll talk to you tomorrow at two at the Keg. And, don't get here any later than eight!" He turned and saw Laura looking at him and quickly spoke in a louder voice: "Yeah, Harry, okay. We'll take in another movie that neither of us has seen. Talk to you tomorrow."
Duke tried to appear nonchalant as he joined her in the living room. "It turned out that Harry had seen the movie too, and was trying to reach me to tell me that he didn't want to go ... Wow! That certainly is a beautiful outfit, Laura. It's all one piece, isn't it? I don't think I've ever seen one before. What's it called?"
"Thank you . . . it's a jumpsuit. It's sort of like the flying outfit servicemen wear, only it's a little tighter," she added unnecessarily, for it hadn't taken Duke very long to notice that it was molded to her lithe, curvaceous body like a second silken skin.
"Why don't you build a fire, Duke, and I'll make a salad and prepare the steaks."
Her voice was huskier and softer and it seemed to caress him with a wanning echo as she left the room. He bent to fix a fire in the marble fireplace. It didn't take very long because of the gas fixture that replaced the need for kindling and soon a cheerful blaze lighted the living room, and set the mood beautifully for the coming seduction of young Mrs. George Stoneham.
Chapter Four
George Stoneham threw the two coats over the back of the couch and called over his shoulder,, "Brandy, or vodka-on-the-rocks?"
"Vodka," came the answer from the bedroom in a voice that wasn't Laura Stoneham's, but was very similar in its sensual throatiness. Still stirring the drinks he followed the soft echo of the voice into the bedroom and handed one of the glasses to the tall tawny-haired blonde waiting for him.
"George," she said teasingly, "are you sure it's alright for you to bring me here ... I mean . . . what if your wife . . ."She let her words trail off with a question mark at the end.
"Don't worry," he laughed, "it's safe now," Suddenly, he seemed lost in thought, then he added, "I'll tell you all about it in a little while, honey, but I think our troubles are almost over."
"Oh, George, please tell me . . . what do you mean? I thought you said you couldn't afford it . .please tell me!" Her voice rose from its low sex-ss to that giggling squeal that he hated, but he threw her arms around his neck and rained ses across his throat, his displeasure disap-ared.
"I'll tell you in a moment," he said as he ished her away and then pulled her down to e bed beside him. They sat next to each other, just barely touching, for a few seconds - the vodka warming, accelerating their growing frenzy until it was soon clear that neither of them had the patience to finish a drink. Suddenly, they both ell silent and mute with their desire and George vas so frantic to make love to her that he nearly choked on that last gulp of his drink. He placed tiis glass down on the floor, then took hers and did the same with it. He reached for her, caught up in his surging anguish to have the beckoning warmth of her body whirling beneath him . . . his hands cupped the steaming sweatered fullness of her at last.
"Oh yes, George . . ." she moaned, "touch me . . . never stop ..."
His hands molded to the hot heaviness of her breasts until his fingers crept slowly and furtively beneath her sweater and edged up her heated satin skin to the clasp of her bra. As the confining cups of black lace fell away, her lush breasts surged into the waiting eagerness of his hands, the hard, fiery tips of her erected nipples seeming to burrow hotly into his palms.
"God! ... you're so beautiful ... I want to see.."
But his words were choked off by the rush of desire that arose in his throat. He forced himself to go slowly as he undid the pins that held her soft, honey-blonde hair in a tousled pile on the top of her head. As they came free her hair cascaded wantonly about her shoulders and he pulled the sweater up and gently over her head, his breath catching at the obedient stillness of her as she awaited his handling - a new and harder erection swelling and aching in the cock at his loins.
The sweater came away, her breasts free and expanding in the openness, and the black silk wispy bra framing them where it hung below. He pulled the straps from her shoulders and threw the garment to the floor. Her high, firm breasts seemed to be thrusting themselves at him and she watched him pull back and gape at them - then she leaned forward, her cheek against his, her lips trailing, flicking at his earlobe. "Yours," she murmured, and with a groan George gathered her to him and buried his face against the naked throb and heat of her, sucking furiously at her nipples, nibbling, biting the palpitating buds and loving her tantalizing moaas as she reverently stroked his cheeks and cradled his chin higher against her breasts, her eyes a supplicant monitor for his mouth as the taste of her eager warmth still lingered on his tongue and he alternately slid each probing nipple into his mouth . . . wanting to devour both of them . . . hungry with the sudden luxuriant taste of her, his lips fervently caressing the sweet, soft flesh on the underside of her breasts, gently lifting each deli- cious mound and softly swirling his tongue up and behind their thrusting fullness to lick and explore the tender nether flesh beneath, an area so silky and neglected , . . virginal and secret , . .and always so new and fresh ...
There was a crazed look of passion in the girl's eyes now and her face had begun to perspire with her urgent need . . . she wanted to see him, to watch his warm, sensual mouth all ripe and full of her.
"Please . . . George . . ." she gasped, "I want to see you ... I want to watch you kiss me!" She added, her voice soft and husky, "Please turn on all the lights."
George pulled away from her and quickly bolted to his feet, the thickening rod in his trousers a throbbing load to carry as he dashed across the room and turned on the bright overhead lights.
Her nipples stood out hard and erect as she stroked and tickled at them with the tips of her fingers, slithering her half-nudity to the center of the bed, inhaling deeply for him, still locked in the hugging skirt below, but bare and full fleshy sculpture above.
"You like to watch too, don't you, baby?" she teased softly. "That's why you've turned half this room into a mirror and aimed it at your bed."
He stood above her, staring down at the pro-vocativeness of her body as she arched it toward him, seeing the glazed heat in her eyes.
"Yes, I like to watch," he answered in a deep and choked voice, "when there is someone like you ..."
"Like me? But, there isn't anyone else like me George ... is tfiere? . . . Your wife? Is she like me, baby?"
No! No! he wanted to scream. She's not like you, you bitch! But her voice as she taunted him only drove his desire onto a higher, raging plane. God! I won't do it! I won't let her control me this way!
Jana Rogers knew, as she always seemed to know, exactly how far she could go with George, just how much she could taunt him before he would rebel. She sensed that moment now as he stood staring down at her and she hurriedly unzipped the tight skirt and slid out of it. Then, shielded only by the gossamer, silken panties, she spread out flat on the bed, her thighs spread-eagled and her breasts full and thrusting upwards.
George's anger disappeared with the writhing movements of her long, ivory legs and the grinding, arching invitation at the hidden juncture of her thighs - and his eyes locked hungrily onto the wispy triangle of red silk that even now was stained with the moisture of desire that seeped from within ...
Slowly, his movements furtive and savoring, he knelt at the foot of the bed, gazing up the length of her body at the ivory-fleshed thighs and the rising pyramids of her breasts.
"Pull them off me, George . . . please, honey . . . pull them off and take me ..."
"Soon . . ." he murmured, and then bent forward and touched his lips to her toes . . . moving them hotly upward . . . slowly and caressingly . . . over the gentle rise of her moving thighs . . . everywhere except where she wanted his mouth most.
"AHhhhhhhhh!" she moaned aloud "Please kiss me there, darling . . . please! Now! Now!" He gripped the backs and raised her thighs, moving a little higher on the bed . . . raising her legs slowly until his lips were touching the backs of her thighs, licking her softly and lifting her an inch or two with each kiss until his tongue reached the start of the untapped moisture at the top of her thighs - and, suddenly, the hot and steamy fragrance of what was beckoning to him there gripped and prodded at his senses, filling his loins to bursting - until at last he had to plunge his head downward between her open thighs to the eager warmth that awaited him.
His head was buried against the love-drenched lingerie, his hands cupping her buttocks as he raised and pulled her to him ... his hot breath beating against his face as it echoed off the mound of red silk.
"Oh God! Yes! Yes, kiss me there . . . take off my panties . . . PLEASE!" Her throaty voice screamed in his ear as he sucked and nibbled at the feel of downy, curled hair beneath her silken panties. "Take them off, darling, please hurry." She gasped and thrust her hips up to him as she felt his hands stripping away the silk that kept her flesh from him, and then sighed in deeper frustration as he raised his head to stare in rapt idolatry at the treasure he'd revealed . . . sending his fingers wetly sliding in and slowly out in awe and wonder . . . the curled mound of red-gold hair beckoning to the hungry touch of his lips.
The girl's cries grew mewling and frantic as the man's caressing lips were denied her and then screamed in ecstasy as the feathery, burning heat of his tongue delved into the openness of her thirsting vagina ...
"Oh God, I can't stand it! I can't stand it!"
His tongue circled and licked just inside the lips of her soft, hair-lined vagina and she felt his fingers parting her, letting his probing spear-like tongue penetrate farther with each stabbing invasion so that the famished flaring hollow of her seemed to sprout and take flower inside his mouth, reaching out for him and grasping for everything that he had denied her. Jana tossed and heaved madly in the bed, shrieking and cursing out the fury of her tortured appetite as he raised his head again, still yearning to see this treasure that was so eager to be discovered. His eyes widened in admiration as he softly blew golden vaginal hairs apart to reveal the welcoming orifice.
He winced in sudden pain as she gripped and tore at his hair, for she could wait no longer and had seized his head in her hands and pressed his open mouth into her cuntal opening.
"Oh George! I ... please ... I can't take it anymore! Touch me, kiss me! . . . Take me, Please!"
She rammed his rearing head up between her legs - grinding her hips and pelvis at him and groaning out her terrible, hungering cries as his tongue went plowing deeply and hotly into her.
He flung her flailing legs high and apart and his lips dipped and sucked tortuously, his mouth all flushed and full of. the endless flavor that flowed from her... his tongue a seething searing weapon of desire as she arched and hurled her body upward to meet the downward drive of his penetration. And for him the intoxication did not diminish, for he'd never before felt such an insatiable narcotic need tearing at his loins and welling up in his chest and throat. He'd lost himself in the reaching, clinging whirlpool of her body and he stretched and flung the girl's thighs even higher and further apart. . . wanting her fully open and free to the onslaught of his caresses ... his tongue venturing in like the plea of a long lost lover and reaching, grappling in the darkness of her volcanic warmth ...
His tongue and teeth gently grasped the throbbing bud of her clitoris, rasping and scraping across its erectile thrust until she cried out in a tortured scream of lust and desire, "Now, oh God, NOW! ... Oh, Ahhhhhh ... I can't help it," she moaned, "I'm dimming ... I ... I'm cuuuummmmmminnnnng!"
He pulled back quickly, straddling her driving thighs with his own and lunged forward . .. down and swiftly . . . sending the huge, throbbing length of his swollen penis in and up to greet the gushing flood of her.
"Uhhhhhhhhggggghh!" she gasped when she felt the great, hot penetration of his hardened cock surging up into her straining body.
He reveled in these shocked and tremulous sounds of her as she felt this rumbling new fever shafting deep inside her belly, his own cries equally exultant as he sank into the soft warm caress and grip of that satiny entrapment. Jana was becoming a whirling paroxysm of groans and whimpers as her taut and clamping body poised and strained to receive the gentle hard ease of what he oifered, the contentment and fulfillment . . . while George held the eager, clasping hips and gave her every joyful inch of himself, crowding, stuffing, driving into her until his throbbing, pulsating shaft found its deepest yielding niche and went in right lip to the hilt . . . basking in the warm fluid rushing there, the soft surrounding swirls of her, knowing at once that her first explosion was already giving birth to another . . . his penis sliding back and out again until only the swollen head of it remained to prod and tease at her vaginal lips the way his tongue had. But now she clutched and pressed her legs around him, jamming him firmly inside her again . . . into the verdant, rich, hot valley that cradled the very hub of his existence as he fiercely jabbed and pounded all that he had to give her.
Tears of release and satiation streamed from her'eyes as her body rose and fell with the stabbing ardent force of him ... as his searing thickness plunged into the eager thirst of her writhing body ...
He slid her body lower in the bed and forced her legs up and back over her shoulders, steadily plummeting and spearing his throbbing weapon more deeply in that position, and gazed down at their merging flesh and saw his own captured prick disappearing and reappearing - clasped and * enfolded in the anxious warmth of her cunt - listened to her cries of desire and want: "Oh George . . . oh, darling ... I love the way you want me ... I feel so ... wonderful ... so good for you with it in me ... I want it in me! ... harder . . . harder, darling!"
Her words driving him into a raging fury of lust, he thrust and drove into her . . . faster and faster . . . until the wave somewhere deep inside him threatened to crest and overflow ... it began as a slow, agonizing tickling and then quickly began to build into a burning fire of molten Java . . .rising and exploding inside him until his loins were aflame with the tortuous tremor of sensation that couldn't be denied . . . then it broke! . . . his hot, liquid sperm shooting forth from him in great, drowning bursts until he felt as if his whole body was emptying itself. . . draining out in sudden jets of maddening satiation until there would be nothing left . . .
Over and over, until at last he throbbed out his last moist bestowal in the warm, wet confines of her tightly clasping pussy ...
It was almost an hour later, in the bathroom.
George was shaving and Jana sat nude on the toilet seat lieside him, her bare feet on the shining black and white tiles. The wild frenzy of their efforts in the liedroom had exhausted him physi- cally and mentally, and he was able to look at her now, her nude ivory thighs spread lazily apart . . . her breasts softer in repose, and her nipples even rosier from the urgent caresses of his tongue . . . without feeling that hungering desire that had controlled him earlier.
"Now, tell me, honey," she coaxed, "tell me what you meant when you said that you thought our troubles were over."
"I didn't say 'were' over, I said that they might be soon," he muttered, wondering if he should tell her at all. Then he decided, considering that she was the reason to begin with, it wouldn't make any difference if she knew what he'd planned.
"Jana, remember how I've always told you it would lie impossible for me to let Laura divorce me? Christ, it would ruin me .. . not in my work, of course . . . but financially. Hell, it's California and she could take damn near everything I've got in this stupid state! That's why we've had to be so careful. If she even knew that you existed, she'd file right away ... and particularly now, after the way I've treated her."
"Treated her? How? I thought you said you've been even nicer to her so that she wouldn't suspect us." Jana's voice was curious and half-angry.
"It's how I've been nicer to her." He laughed at the frown on Jana's face. "Listen, baby, this plan has been a long time in the making, and I think the time has come when it's going to pay off."
He paused, grinning at her puzzlement.
"We've been seeing each other for almost a year and a half, right? And for most of that time I've been treating Laura a little differently. Listen, as a producer, I know more about women than women know about themselves. I'll explain it to you - when I started bringing you here I couldn't change in the way I acted with Laura or she'd suspect something, right? If I suddenly stopped going to bed with her, or I started fighting with her ... or the other way ... if I suddenly became nicer, or started bringing her presents, or taking her out more often ... if I started doing anything unusual, anything out of character, she'd know that I had been up to something and she'd start checking. Once she found out, her pride wouldn't allow her to do anything but divorce me, and she'd take every cent I have . . . UNLESS . . ." and he waited, watching the look of expectation on Jana's face .....
"Unless," he continued, "I did it so gradually that she never noticed I was acting any differently. I started working nights. Gradually increasing it until I was almost never home. You know that - a lot of those times I've been with you . . . but I've scheduled so many meetings at night in places where her friends could see me, and told her it was actually business, that she's never once suspected me of infidelity, of being with anyone else. Not once! That was the first and most important thing . . ." He wiped the lather from his face and sat down on the edge of the tub.
"Then came the next step. I had to destroy our sex life . . , I'll explain why in a moment.
So I kept slowing down the frequency of our love-making until we almost never go to bed anymore. And, when I did make love to her I tried to make certain that it was unsatisfying for her ... it had to be ... because I wanted her to start wanting someone else ... Are you beginning to understand?" He chuckled as he saw the look of comprehension cross Jana's face.
"Because I wanted HER to find somebody else ... NOT ME . . . Because then I could divorce HER!"
"Yes, but . . ." Jana interrupted.
"Let me finish. It's taken a long time because it's had to be so gradual . . . but about a week ago I decided she was ready. But I couldn't wait for her to find someone, because, knowing her, she might not have ever looked. She isn't that type ... no matter how 'horny' she becomes . . . so I had to find someone for her . . . someone whom I could catch her with and then I knew she wouldn't stand in my way when I filed for divorce!"
"But, that's terrible! What a hor . . ." Jana seenfed shocked, but a strange, satisfied smile was flickering across her face.
"I know it's terrible, baby, but it was the only way you and I could ever be free." George stroked her bare shoulder softly. "And you do want us to be together, don't you?"
"Oh God, yes!" Jana cried, shadowy outlines of dollar signs flashing through the back of her mind. I've done it! her thoughts cried triumphantly. I've done it! A millionaire . . . and all that's going to be mine!
"Well," he laughed, "all that was left was for me to find the right man - and I have! Some kid who wants to be a star . . . Duke, or something ridiculous like that. You ought to see him, Jana, the kid looks like some golden Greek stud!"
George Stoneham seemed lost in his thoughts for a second as he chuckled to himself, then he added, "And the kid is going to be in his first movie! That's what he wanted," George reflected, "to be in the movies. And I told him I could put him there, for just one small favor. He had to be in a private movie first, for me!"
Jana listened intently while the balding man rubbed her breast and triumphantly explained how well his plan was working. It was supposed to have happened the night before, Thursday, and all she had to do was wait and hope that kid, Duke, called and said everything had gone the way it was supposed to. George said something about meeting the kid at dinner with his wife, and later seeing the films or something, then there would be the divorce! Jesus, it was going to work out just like she'd planned. She'd seen that beautiful wife of his before. There was no doubt the woman was nice, but nobody could stand in her, Jana Maciejewski's, way when she wanted something! And this time, it was money ... a LOT of money . . . and all it took was her body, just like she knew it would. Just give me a chance to screw a man and he'll never forget it, she thought.
"Hang this on that hook over there, will you, honey?" George said as he finished the outline of his plan and removed his bathrobe. "I'm going to take a shower."
I might as well seal the bargain, she thought . . . "Aren't you going to let me take one with you?" she said petulantly.
They showered together. Lukewarm needle spray. They built up an absurd and luxurious lather and then soaped each other's bodies, using neither sponge nor cloth.
Her hands felt sudsy and emollient as they kneaded up and under the warm fullness of his balls, around the backs of his hairy thighs, his hands mopping gently at her breasts, fingertips lingering over the budding erectness of her nipples. "Do you want to wash your mouth out with soap?" she teased as she saw how his eyes devoured her there. His lips curved into a grin and he gazed at her mouth now as her eyes lowered to watch the thick wet bulge of him that speared out at the drops of shower spray. She licked her lips and George tilted her chin and hurled his mouth down against hers, his lips parting and urgent, his tongue going deep and probing.
"Now . . . now," he murmured, "let's get out of here and go to bed."
"No, George. Here. Like this. Standing up and soaking and getting all rained on ..."
"You're crazy!" he laughed, hugging her lathered body to him, "We don't fit like this. I wouldn't even be able to hit your navel. Look!" His rock-hard prick tapped against her upper stomach. "You're five-two, and I'm six-two. There's a twelve-inch credibility gap there."
"Lift me up and sit me down on it, darling . . . it'll go in so easy that way, with all this water and steam . . . there won't be anything in the way and I'll get all of it... in me, darling, way up in me."
George's mind whirled with the wonderful madness he'd found in this girl. Never. He'd never known anyone like her. She was so reserved and calm in public, and then when they were alone, she was wild . . . even the crudity in her words was somehow more exciting than he could have believed possible. God! And she loves me so much, he thought happily.
He held her, his arms still around her and his hands cupping her buttocks. "Oh God, honey, what if we slip? We'll break our necks!"
"What a lovely way to go," she giggled.
"Yes," he said, laughing, "I think you're right." He saw that she stood on the tips of her toes now, like an eager cocker puppy waiting to be cuddled.
He gripped her under the armpits and raised her body upward. As he did, her legs flew up and entwined themselves about his hips in a scis-sor-lock.
"Now you're too high," he panted, trying to keep his balance as her soft, hot breasts bunched up against his chest.
"Then lower me on it," she ordered, relaxing the grip of her legs.
"I'm afraid I'll drop ..."
"Please, darling, there's nothing to be afraid of - doit! Please, that's what I want."
Holy Christ, he thought. If he ever tried to fashion such a character in one of his scripts, nobody would believe her. She was just too wild to be real, and soon she would be his ... completely his ... drop me on it, she says, and he looked down and saw that he was poised and aimed with perfect accuracy.
George took a deep breath and let go of her, and at once he felt the full logic of her theory. Indeed, the whole maneuver reeked with simplicity. It was sublime. In one gulping swoop of flesh his jutting prick was completely embedded in all the burning heat of her cunt she was so eager to share with him.
"Arrrggghhhhh . . ." she moaned, in unison with him as he cried out.
"Ohhhhh . . . that's so good . . . you're so deep . . . look where you are . . . look where it is . . . you're completely buried in me . . . the soap burns . . . and you burn . . . Oh God! it's so wonderful!"
She wriggled delightedly, and with her hands placed firmly on his shoulders for balance, she began to bounce up and down on the full, hot length of his throbbing cock. Up and down, again and again she moved, her face like that of a gleeful rapt child bobbing about on a carousel. And there was no easy gentleness in it now, for George's prick had bypassed al! the teasing preliminaries of soft prodding foreplay and had thrust up hard and fast, deep into the resilient silken warmth of her cervix . . . locked, enfolded, squeezed in her burning depths.
"Don't move, darling," she directed him. "Stand up straight and let me do everything!"
He did as she asked, the blood racing and pounding in his temples, with the same pulsation clutching the head of his buried penis, while the incessant needle-spray of the shower kept stinging at their bodies. George was getting a little dizzy with the heady euphoric feel of her clasping, clenching cunt as it surrounded him, in and out, claiming and grabbing the very core of him, right down to the base of all sensation, the throbbing staff of him that was buried to the hilt.
He remained completely still for her, the tearing joy and tension springing and bounding throughout his. body, as she used his penis like a ballerina conditioning herself at the rehearsal bar, her legs slightly bending now, but still fastened about him as she moved for him . . . the fast and ceaseless stroke . . , He hadn't moved, but the groans that escaped his lips grew louder and louder the faster she pivoted and slid up and down on the taut bursting fullness -of his prick . . .
"Oh, oh, I can't stand much more of this . . ." he moaned, his tongue darting out across his lips as she bounced. She leaned down and savagely buried her lips against his, her tongue raiding and plunging to find his. With soft, moaning sighs he let his hands swarm around the wet, hot bobbing bottom of her as it moved endlessly up and down, encircling, surrounding, building pressure as she cried and moaned against his lips.
"Oh God YES!" he shouted, his head back and his voice spluttering from the shower that rained into his mouth. He seemed to be drowning, but it didn't matter . . . nothing mattered except to release that terrible, wonderful, beautiful pressure in his wildly throbbing prick . . . again and again his quick fierce thudding explosions greeted the searing flush and tide of her . . .
"Wait! Wait!" she cried. "I'm not stopping... there's more and more . . . OHhhhhhhhh . . ."
Then George lost his balance. Felt his feet slipping out from under him while they were still wetly heaving and joined in their roaring climax. Her hands flailed out and tore at the shower curtain, pulling it down in billowing folds to break their fall as they crumpled in a laughing, limb-tossed heap . . . laughing hysterically and fitfully embracing on the cold bottom of the tub, grabbing out for pinching, reassuring handsful of each other.
Bruised, but not noticing it. Laughing, but unable to stop, they held each other until finally the quaking spasms in their bodies quieted, and they collapsed against the side of the tub.
Chapter Five
Duke Hagel stepped out of the bright sunlight into the cave-like darkness of The Keg, trying to accustom his eyes to the sudden change.
He hadn't talked to Harry since he'd called him from Laura Stoneham's and he didn't know yet whether the photographer had gotten any good film ... or if he'd even shown up, for that matter. Duke looked around a moment later when his eyes had adjusted but he couldn't see Harry anywhere. Goddamn it, he thought, that sonofabitch had better show up!
"Lemme have a beer, Pete," he hollered to the man behind the bar. "You seen Harry Vincent in here today?"
"Oh, hi, Duke. Yeah ... he called a little while ago to tell you to wait for him."
The man, Pete, a huge beer-bellied man that Duke had never really liked, came over with the beer and leaned forward with his elbows on the bar. "Where ya been, man? I'm still waitin' for ya to set me up with one of those little honeys I always see you with." The man's stale beer-breath blew in Duke's face and he wanted to tell him to move to some other place at the bar but he didn't want to annoy him. He'd seen Pete in a few brawls there at The Keg . . : besides, he was a friend of Harry's and Duke didn't want any trouble with Harry . . . not now . . . not when so much depended on him.
"Someday, Pete," he stalled. "You just let me know which one you Want and I'll talk to her."
"Just get me some hot little cunt, man ... I'm getting horny enough to be The Tijuana Brass!" The fat man turned toward the front door as it opened. "Hey, there's Harry now ... Harry, over here. What ya got goin' with Harry anyway, Duke? Whaddya doin'? Taldn' dirty movies?"
Duke turned to Harry. "Grab a table, Harry," and then back to Pete, hoping he wouldn't hear the quiver in his laugh as he answered, "Just business, Pete . . . just business ..."
Harry had taken a table by the jukebox and though it made it almost impossible for Duke to hear him, no one else in the place would be able to hear anything either.
"Come on, Harry," Duke said anxiously, "what happened? What have you got for me . . . did they turn out?"
Harry looked at him with a quiet smile on his face.
"Goddammit, Harry ... I don't feel like any jokes . . . did you get the shots or didn't you!"
"Hey, man, cool it ... I don't even have a beer yet. . . yeah, I got 'em . . ." he said softly. "But they're gonna cost you more than a hunnerd and eighty skins . . . they're too good, Duke . . . I was selling myself cheap . . ." Harry Vincent laughed at Duke's obvious discomfort. "Hey, man, I saw the whole thing ... that broad's too much! Now, whaddya say you an' me make a little deal?" He turned to Pete who'd just come over with a pitcher of beer, "Leave us alone, Pete, me and Duke got a thing we gotta talk about!"
"Fuck you, Harry, we've already made a deal!" Duke's voice rose above the sound of the jukebox. "Either you take it the way I said, or I'll find someone else!"
"Screw the bullshit, Duke ol' boy . . . ain't nobody gonna get shots like I got last night ... and I figure two-fifty's a fair price!" He leaned over and slapped Duke on the shoulder. "Christ! I damn near froze to death . . . why don't you wait til you see the flicks and then you can tell me if I'm charging you too much ..."
"Alright, you prick, let's go take a look at them!" Duke muttered. "But if they're not any good you don't get anything."
Harry laughed again. "Hey, man, I just got through printing them . . . tell you what . . . if you don't like 'em, don't give me nothin' . . . otherwise, they're gonna cost you two and a half! . . . Deal?"
"Yeah, yeah, okay, let's go," Duke answered.
"Duke, you're crazy! You can't barge in here like this!" Laura tried feebly to keep the screened door shut. "I couldn't even understand you on the telephone . . . What is this about a movie?"
He didn't say anything, just pushed past her into the living room with a couple of large black carrying cases in his hand.
"Please, Duke . . . will you please tell me what is going on?" He seemed so strange ... he wouldn't look at her . . . What was happening? "Duke, listen to me, please, last night was a mistake! It won't happen again . . . it won't liappen again!"
"It doesn't have to happen again!" he screamed at her. "Goddamn it! Don't you see! It doesn't have to happen again!"
"Duke, what do you mean? Please, what are you talking about?" But she only spoke to his back as he set up the projector on the table and then bent to plug it in. "Duke, what are you doing . . . what are these? . . . movies . . . why? . . . why?"
"Pull the drapes!" His voice was cold and empty. He was so strange, as if he was fighting something that was trying to break out of him.
His tone frightened her so much that she moved in a daze, and it wasn't until the room darkened that she realized that she'd closed the drapes across the large picture window.
""Sit down, Laura, I have to show you some-thing" He commanded harshly.
"Duke, won't you please tell me what's going on! What's that?" she questioned as he set up the projector. "Duke, a movie? Why in the world did you come breaking in here to show me a movie? Have you been drinking!"
Still he wouldn't answer her. He moved silently around the room, setting up the screen and threading the film.
"Please, Duke, will you explain what you're doing ... if this is a surfing movie, why did you bring it over here? Duke, what's the matter with you . . . you look so strange. Dammit! Answer me!" Her voice rose almost to a shriek as he turned and stared at her.
"Duke, take that goddamn surfing movie and get out of here! Are you out of your mind!"
"Laura, sit down. It isn't a surfing movie," he said softly. "Laura," he pleaded, "sit down, I have to talk to you . . . you're going to hate me for what I've done. I didn't have any choice . . . I ... I didn't have any choice . . ." He seemed almost ready to cry for a second, then his voice hardened again - "Listen to me. This was the only way I could get what I wanted. Please, I don't want to show you this film . . . will you just listen to me ... I don't have to show it to you, not if you'll do what I ask . . ,"
She couldn't understand what he meant. A film? Of what? Why was he begging like this?
"Duke, you're crazy! What kind of film . . . what am I supposed to do ... dammit, will you explain what's going on!"
"Laura, I want you to introduce me to your husband. It's my only chance . . . I want to be in the movies . . ."
"Duke, you are crazy! My husband! Have you lost your mind? God! What am I supposed to say." Her voice laughed at him, heavy with sarcasm, "That I met this nice boy on the beach and he's such a good lover that I want you to make a star out of him. What about your engineering?" she sneered, "or was that just something else you cooked up?"
"Shut up, you bitch!" he shouted, "All I want you to do is introduce me to your husband and convince him to give me a chance . . , Laura," he said softly. "I didn't want it to be this way after I met you, but it's too late to change anything . . . and I don't want to show you these movies."
"Listen, you goddamn gigolo! I wouldn't do anything for you now if you were the last person on earth! Go ahead . . . show me your movie! Is it of us, Duke, it is isn't it? I think I'm beginning to understand ..."
He had known it would come to this anyway. For a moment he had actually thought he could get by without showing her the horribly graphic evidence of what he'd done to her - then he realized immediately that she'd see it soon anyway, because that's what her husband had planned for her! He looked at her again on the couch before he turned out the light. Even in her anger she was so beautiful he wanted to take her in his arms and beg her to forgive him. He wanted to tell her that the whole thing was her husband's idea . . . that her husband wanted to get rid of her so badly he was willing to do something like this to frame her! But, he thought wryly, what good will that do? Then he'd lose everything. He'd lose her - she was never really his anyway, and George Stoneham would make sure he never had a chance to do what he wanted more than anything in the world. The click of the light, the darkness and the sound of the projector as he turned it on were almost simultaneous ... and then the whirring of the film was the only sound until Laura gasped.
Unlike a movie in a theatre, this one had no introduction - Harry Vincent hadn't wanted to waste any film - the first scene to flash indelibly on the screen was of Duke as he unzipped her pink silk playsuit.
Laura was silent as she watched the two figures on the screen before her. No underwear? she thought. Why was I naked beneath that suit? Had I known even then that I would let him make love to me . . . fuck me, she corrected, there was no love - he just fucked me so that I would give him what he wanted . . . her mind was very calm and the two people on the screen before her seemed to be strangers.
Harry Vincent must have edited the film, or perhaps, just waited with his camera, because the film jumped ahead in sequence . . .
Instead of the long moments it had taken Duke to undress her, the film moved forward to show her writhing ecstasy when he had buried his head between her thighs and explored the wet hotness of her loins with his tongue.
"No! . . . No! you can't show that!" she screamed. "You're horribly rotten, you depraved bastard!" The woman on the screen had regained her identity for Laura as she watched with enraged disbelief . . . the scenes had changed again and now they showed the strained engorgement of Laura's mouth as she licked and sucked Duke's huge, swollen penis.
"Turn it off ... please, turn it off," she pleaded. "I . . . I can't stand it! How could you do this to me! How? . . ." Her voice broke with the tears that flowed from her eyes and the great, wracking sobs that had begun to shake her body. "Oh, please," she moaned, "turn it off ... I can't watch anymore ... I can't ..."
It took several moments for Duke to turn on the lights and reassemble the projector and screen, and during that time there was only the soft, pitiful sound of Laura's crying. He wanted to beg her to forgive him for what he'd done . . . he wanted to burn the dirty filmed obscenity he held in his hands . . . but it was too late.
"Get out! Get out!" she screamed so loudly that it startled him and he almost dropped the canned reel of film. "Get out, you bastard! I'll never do what you want. . . not . . . not after you've done this to me!" Her voice screeched at him and her eyes were wide and frantic. She ran at him, her hands curved into taloned claws, and he backed away at first, trying to avoid her vicious attack. Then he stood still and let her come at him. He wanted her to hurt him ... he wanted her clawing fingernails to punish him for what he'd done.
She struck at him like a cat, her nails leaving trickling rivulets of bright scarlet on his face . . . then she fell sobbing to her knees.
"Get out . . . get out," she cried. "I'll never help you . . . never ..."
"Laura, I'm sorry ... can't you understand? I didn't want this to happen."
"You bastard!" she screamed. "I thought we'd found something wonderful and now you've done this . . . I'll never do what you say, you rotten, filthy bastard!" Her voice was filled with venomous hatred and he knew that anything that might have been between them was irrevocably destroyed.
"Alright, Laura, I'll go ... I just wish this had never happened. I . . . I . . ."
"YOU WISH!" she screamed. "You . . . it's always 'you' isn't it! This time you've lost, you pig! I'll never do what you want . . . NEVER! I don't care what you do with that. . . that fucking movie!"
"If you change your mind," he said coldly, "call me at The Keg by eight tonight ... or this film will be given to your husband!"
The door slammed and he was gone.
Chapter Six
"Hey, ol' buddy, cheer up," Harry Vincent prodded. "We got all this beer an' I'm even buying," But, everything he'd said to Duke for the past half hour seemed unheard by the big blond man. Harry had come in looking for him. He wanted his money, and he wanted to find out exactly what Duke planned to do with the movie he'd made for him. He figured it would probably take some talking to get Duke to tell him, but, he thought greedily, it'll be worth it if I can find out anything that'll make me more than two-hundred and fifty dollars!
I don't know who Duke's working for, but if the cat's got this much money to throw around, he's bound to have a. lot more. It's probably someone who's trying to blackmail ol' man Stone-ham with movies of his wife! God, she sure is a beautiful cunt! he thought reflectively, and Duke had a piece of that. . . Yessir, he sure did
. , . and there ain't nobody that knows that better than I do, he chuckled. Hell, I've even got proof of it - in black and white - maybe I should haye used color, he laughed.
I wonder who the hell it could be. If someone ain't trying to put the squeeze on Stoneham, then they're trying to blackmail Ms wife. It couldn't be Duke, he thought. Even with that pretty face and all those muscles he ain't smart enough to pull something like this by himself . . . besides, he don't have the money. If I can just find out who it is from that stupid beach boy , . . then maybe I'll do some dealin* of my own . . .
"Here you go, Duke ol' boy, have another beer," he said and refilled both glasses.
This is going to be easier than I thought, I figured I was gonna have to get him drunk, but I didn't think he was going to make it this easy for me ... I wonder what he's got on his mind ... he hardly ever drinks, and he's been sopping up that stuff like it was going out of style.
"Hey, man, how'd your chick like my work, huh?"'
"Shut up, Harry," Duke growled. "I don't want to talk about it ... you got your money, didn't you. Keep your mouth shut!"
"Okay, okay . .. doa't get hot," Harry laughed. "jus' a little professional curiosity, that's all. I worked hard for those flicks an' froze my ass off while I was doin* it!" He reached over and punched the blond man playfully on the shoulder. "An' all the time I'm freezin* you're in there eettine a niece of the wildest ass in the world
. . . Jesus, she sure is a fine lookin' cunt!"
"God damn it! I told you to shut up!" Duke shouted. "You say one more word about Laura Stoneham, and I'm going to knock the shit out of you!"
Harry started to rise.
I don't take that from nobody, he thought, 'specially some pretty boy like him ... I can kick his ass with one hand holdin' my joint! Then he decided to let it slide. Me and ol' Duke's gonna be buddy-buddy 'fore the night's over.
"I'm sorry, Duke," he said apologetically. "I didn't mean nothin'. You really like her, huh?"
"Yeah," Duke muttered. It was getting hard to think straight. All that damn beer, he thought. I shouldna had all that beer. God, she must hate me now . . . Why did I . . . ? It was her fucking husband, him and that broad, Jana, of his!
"What's she like, Duke?" Harry questioned. "I mean, tell me about her, man, it'll do you good to get it off your chest."
"Huh?" What did he say? Oh yeah . . . Laura, he thought fuzzily, tell him about her . . . I've got to tell someone . . .
"She's wonderful, Harry, I mean I've never known anyone like her. She's . . . she's ..."
Harry waited as Duke's voice trailed off in confusion. I'll bet she's wonderful, he thought sarcastically, so wonderful that she damn near clawed his head off. Man, she sure tore up his face! Shit! You'd think she'd be proud of that job I did with my camera. With that telephoto lens I got some real good stuff of her blowin' him!
". . . she's so beautiful, Harry," Duke continued, his voice slurred and fuzzy from alcohol. "Man, she loved me, Harry ... I know she did . . . and then her husband ... he ..."
"He what?" Harry probed softly. The husband! Christ! Duke's so damn stoned I can't understand him.
"Her husband, the Great Producer, he's the one that made me do it, Harry," Duke mumbled. "I didn't want to ... I swear I didn't ... he made me. He said he was going to get me a lead part in one of his . . . I didn't want to do it, Harry . . . not after I met her . . ."
The husband! Shit! What's he gonna get out of it?
"Why did the husband want pictures of you screwin' his wife?" Harry pressed gently. "Man, that really is dirty! 'cause she looks so nice . . . she is nice, ain't she, Duke?"
"Oh yeah, Harry, she's wonnerful ... he wanted the movie for evidence so he could divorce her . . . how could he want to divorce Laura?"
"What for, Duke?" Harry said softly. "Tell me how it happened, tell me everything. Maybe I can figure out somethin' that'll help you an' her."
"It all started down on the beach by the pier," Duke continued, taking the glass that Harry pushed into his hand. "This guy, Stoneham, came up to me and said that he had a proposition for me. We went over to Luke's joint for a drink. When he told me who he was ... I mean . . . the big producer and everything ... I thought I had it knocked. He told me he'd seen me before and that I was just right for his next picture, but he wanted me to do something for him first . . . He wanted me to . . ." Duke paused, and for a worried moment Harry thought he was going to stop right there. Then he started talking again, so softly Harry had to move closer to hear him.
". . . wanted me to put the make on his wife and get pictures of it ... he said she was ready, that he hadn't screwed her for so long . . . he said he wanted to marry another girl, Harry, he said couldn't I understand that . . . you know what was so funny, Harry, you know what wasso-funny . . . ?" he blubbered, and Harry could see tears in his eyes.
"What was it, Duke? Tell me . . ."
".. . he was going to divorce Laura so he could marry that chick that used to always hang around here . . . remember that one that was always rubbing up against you for a free drink . . . shit, I even screwed her myself . . . remember her, Harry?"
"No, man, I don't know who you're talkin' about ..."
"Jana . . . yeah, that was her name. Jana. She had a long Polish name, but she's changed it now . . . Jana Rogers, she calls herself ... a whore, Harry ... he wants to divorce Laura so he can marry a whore . . . ain't that somethin', Harry . . ." Duke rambled on for several moments. Harry couldn't understand him, his words were so thick and slurred.
The husband, huh? And some chick named Jana Rogers, he thought. Maybe this is going to work out after all. I'll check with Pete - he knows every whore in town. He'll know where I can find that Rogers broad.
"What are you supposed to do now, Duke, you going to give the film to that Stoneham guy?"
"No, I gotta wait here for a call from Laura. See, she doesn't know anything about her husband being involved. She thinks I'm the one who's Holding the movie over her head." Duke paused, his eyes staring unseeing into his beer glass. "I told her she had to arrange a meeting between her husband and me, and to have him get me a part in one of his productions or I'd give him the film of her and me ... but he's going to see a copy of it anyway, so it doesn't make any difference what she does . . . he's got her either way."
"Hey, man, what I don't understand is how come she's supposed to introduce you to her husband . . . you already know him ... an' if he's gonna get the film anyway ..."
"That's the smart part of it," Duke slurringly interrupted. "This way she's never gonna suspect that her husband had anything to do with it. After I've got the part in the movie because she convinced him to give it to me, then he's going to take the film to a lawyer and say that he received it in the mail . . . and he's gonna say he's even got more proof 'cause his wife talked him into giving me a job . . ." Duke stopped for a second and then added: "Stoneham says that Laura won't ever contest the divorce when she knows he's got the film . . . she'll just give him the divorce with- out taking much - and there won't be any publicity - so I can't get hurt."
"Not bad," Harry conceded. "This guy Stone-ham's pretty smart."
"Smart?" Duke echoed, "to give up someone like Laura for a hooker!"
"Yeah, okay, maybe you're right, Romeo, but it's still a pretty sweet little plan," Harry Vincent muttered. He'd forgotten about Duke Hagel now and all his concentration was centered on the story he'd just heard . . .
There's got to be some angle, Harry told himself. I've heard of that guy Stoneham an' he's got more money than God! I think I'll let Pete in on this. It'll probably take a couple of us anyway.
He'd just started to get up from the table when Pete called across that there was a telephone call for Duke, and Harry decided he'd wait til Duke got back in case the drunken man said anything else worthwhile ...
Chapter Seven
The room was silent for a second as both men watched Laura pour the sherry. The shorter and older man was quietly impassive and seemed to be controlling the atmosphere. For the past hour he had directed the conversation while the younger man had only offered comment whenever he was directly questioned, and even now as he sat at the dining table he seemed strangely nervous and withdrawn.
"Laura tells me you're a surfer."
Duke jumped at the suddennness of the question. It had been so quiet and he'd been trying to think of some excuse to leave. He didn't think he could stand to see the tortured look on Laura Stoneham's face any longer or to listen to her husband's smooth casual conversation as though he and Duke were meeting for the first time.
"I ... I'm sorry, I didn't hear you, Mr. Stbne: ham," he muttered softly.
"I said, Laura tells me you're quite a surfer."
"Well, I've been doing it since I was a small kid in Redondo Beach. I guess it's just second nature by now." Why all this talk. Why couldn't he just leave?
"Please sit down, darling," Stoneham said as he turned to his wife. "Duke and I are having a little chat. Why don't you join us. There's no hurry for dinner." He turned again to face the younger man. When he spoke his lips seemed to be the only movement in his face - there was no expression and his eyes were heavy-lidded and as immobile as a deathmask's. He waited until his wife had seated herself quietly beside him.
"I don't know what you've done to my wife, Duke." Was there a flicker of amusement across his face for the first time? "But she certainly was anxious for me to meet you. I'm beginning to see why though." He paused, then added in an innocent, level tone, "Have you ever considered acting as a career, Duke? I'm a producer at Allied Artists as I'm sure Laura has told you, and I'm just wondering if it wouldn't be wise for you to get yourself an agent. Laura's told me that you were in engineering, or something like that, but if you're interested in money or fame then you might just consider shelving your work for a while ... I'd like to have you come over to the studios for testing."
He waited, laughing inside at the naked desire on Duke's face.
"Well, I don't know, Mr. Stoneham," Duke said, deciding to keep up with the pretense that the older man had apparently decided upon. "I never really gave veiy much thought to acting but it sounds kind of interesting. What would I do?"
"Oh, you mean what kinds of parts. It's hard to tell at first, isn't that true, Laura?" He turned to his wife and Duke was afraid to look and see the derision in her eyes. "I'm not sure that I have anything that would fit you right away, but Joseph Singebourne is casting right now . . . he's the one who's been producing all the 'beach party' movies . . . and he has something called 'Kahuna King' in script form already and I know he's looking for a new face." His eyes seemed to smile, then he added seriously, "It isn't Academy Award material, but so much is devoted to publicity that it would certainly make your name known."
"Excuse me, gentlemen," Laura interrupted, "I'd better check on dinner. Take your time and help yourself to the sherry, I may be a while."
Both men rose as she left the room, and then George Stoneham motioned Duke over to the picture window away from the entrance to the kitchen.
"Listen, you stupid bastard," he said menacingly, "you and I have something to talk about!"
"Hey, wait a minute, Stoneham ... I did what I was supposed to do."
"You did a little more too, didn't you!" Though he was smaller by several inches and quite a few pounds lighter, his stance almost intimidated the younger man.
"I don't know what you're talking about . . . what ..."
"You don't! Well, I'll tell you," Stoneham shouted. "Does the name 'Harry Vincent' mean anything to you?"
"Yeah, well, sure. He's the man who took the pictures ... I ... but how do you know him?"
"Because he called me today!" the shorter man said angrily.
"He called you! But how could he . . ." Duke's voice trailed off as he remembered his conversation with Harry Vincent at The Keg.
"Goddamn it, Duke! You came awfully close to making things very unpleasant for me," Stone-ham said, and though he'd lowered his voice so his wife couldn't hear him, his anger was clearly evident in the way he bit off each word and spit it at the younger man. "Your pal, Harry, wanted to blackmail me ... he knew the whole story. Why did you tell him, Duke? Were you in on this with him?" Stoneham questioned menacingly.
"No ... no, I swear I wasn't... I didn't have any idea that ... I was drunk when I told him, Mr. Stoneham," Duke faltered lamely.
"You stupid sonofabitch, don't you realize what this could have meant. And, after all my planning!" The shorter man saw the fear in Duke's eyes and he felt a strange thrill at the realization of the power he had over the man before him. I can make him dance like a puppet, just by pulling his strings, he thought gloatingly. This big, young virile-looking man . .. and he's completely under my thumb.
"Don't worry, Duke," he said condescendingly, "you'll still get your part in one of our productions. You don't really think I'd let some cheap punk put the squeeze on me, do you? Listen boy, in my business hardly a day goes by that somebody doesn't try a stunt like this . . . with stories about one of our stars . . . and these guys are experts, not cheap hoodlums like Harry and his friend Pete!"
Pete? So Harry told Pete too, Duke thought angrily. That two-faced prick!
"Yeah, Duke," Stoneham said with naked self-satisfaction heavy in his voice. "I doubt that your friends will be bothering me ... us ... again,"
"What did you do? Those are pretty rough boys, Mr. Stoneham," Duke said anxiously.
"They're not rough in my league! We've got people on contract just for this sort of thing, Duke, and they'd take your friends and squash them like crawling bugs."
He seemed too confident to Duke, who'd seen Harry and Pete in action but he decided not to say anything, though he was curious as to what the producer had said to scare them away, "So, I just gave them a little friendly advice, Duke, and told them that it would be healthier for them if they just forgot the whole thing/' Storieham said, almost in answer to Duke's thoughts.
"Healthier for whom, dear?" Laura said unexpectedly at their side again. "What are you two talking about so seriously?"
"Oh, it's nothing," her husband said quickly.
"Just something about the Studio."
"George, dinner will be ready in a few seconds. Why don't you and Duke take your drinks over to the table and you can open the wine and let it breathe until we're ready to pour it."
Duke watched her as she turned and went back into the kitchen. God! She's so beautiful. Why have I done this? Why can't I find some way to make it as though the whole thing had never happened!
He rose with George Stoneham and followed him over to the dining table.
That stupid bastard, he thought, as he looked at the shorter man's back. I'd like to expose the whole thing to Laura and get her away from him. I can't stand it, the way he treats her! So sugary nice to her and all the time he's knifing her behind her back.
Duke's thoughts tore at him during dinner and he hardly tasted his meal or heard the conversation around him. He tried to concentrate but bis conscience wouldn't free him from the overwhelming guilt that stabbed at him each time he looked at Laura, or heard the honeyed softness of her voice when she spoke. Each time he looked over to her husband's supercilious mocking smile and watched him treat his wife so condescendingly he wanted to stand up and shout to her ... or to get down on his knees and plead with her to forgive him for what he'd done to her . . . but he couldn't find the final strength or courage to throw away everything he'd worked for. He kept telling himself that someday he'd make it up to her, that he'd find a way to repay her for the suffering she'd find through his betrayal.
It was later when they were all sitting by the fire with brandy and making small talk about George's work or Duke's surfing, that it happened.
The whole thing took place so suddenly that Duke couldn't remember afterward exactly how it had started. The doorbell had chimed and as Laura turned the knob, Harry and Pete burst into the room.
Duke remembered how he'd thought at first in the confusion and shouting that Pete and Harry were drunk and then he'd decided that it wasn't liquor but something else that had given them that wild, fanatical look . . . 'speed,' or one of the methedrine drugs ...
"Hi, beach boy, thought you might like some company ... maybe some entertainment," Harry had giggled at him. Pete had shovedthe shouting, spluttering producer into a chair, and now he stood above him - pushing him backward each time he tried to get up.
"Duke! Who are these men?" Laura screamed, and then struggled frantically in Harry's grip as he reached out and yanked her to her feet.
"Hey, beach boy," Harry leered. "Man, she's even better close up than she was with the tele- photo lens!"
"Let her go, you bastard!" Duke shouted and jumped to his feet.
"You don't want to do nothin', Duke ol' boy," Pete said menacingly and pulled a revolver from the inside of his coat. "Why don't you just sit back and relax-. We're going to have a little party!"
"Duke, is this your idea!" George Stoneham screamed and then doubled up in agony as Pete hit him.
"Shut up, Stoneham, all that racket hurts my ears!" the fat man shouted and slashed him brutally across the cheek with the barrel of the pistol'
"Naw, it ain't pretty boy's idea," Harry laughed. "Duke's too hung on your wife to come up with the kind of party me an' Pete's got in mind!" His breath was foul and rancid in Laura's face as he spoke - and he didn't even seem to notice her frantic efforts to break away from, his painful grasp.
"Hey, man," he said as he turned to Pete, "we can't do nothin' with these people thrashing around like this ... tie Stoneham up first and then get 'Surfer Boy' over there . . ."
Pete backed away from the husband and reached for the lengths of rope he'd brought in. The waving pistol halted anything Stoneham or Duke might have tried to do. Harry shoved Laura to the floor and took the gun that Pete handed Mm. He covered the fat man as he quickly bound George Stoneham to the large armchair and then moved over to point the pistol at Duke.
"You double-crossing bastard!" Duke shouted and tried to leap forward at him, but Pete slammed a huge fist at the side of his head and knocked him helplessly back into the chair. "Don't make things difficult for us, Duke," Pete said softly. "I'd hate to mess up your pretty face!"
Duke couldn't do anything except sit weakly as the frustrated rage quivered through his body as the fat man tied him to the chair. He watched Harry move to Stoneham's side and almost felt a sense of satisfaction as he heard the photographer taunting the older man . . .
"So you didn't want to plav things our way . . . uh, Stoneham? You know it makes me awful mad when someone hangs up on me like you did . . . hey, Pete, ain't that right . . . don't it make me awful mad? And then, to really piss me off, Stoneham, you hadda start threatening me! You really think I give a shit about your two-bit goons!"
"They'll kill you," the cowering man before him said weakly. "You . . . you don't know what you're doing ..."
"Hey, man," Harry shouted to Pete, "the man says we don't know what we're doin' . . . we know real well, don't we! But the first thing we're gonna do is have a little party, ain't that right, Pete?"
"What is all this about?" Laura screamed. "Won't somebody please tell me what's going on!"
"You'll find out soon enough, baby," Harry giggled. "We're gonna have a little fuck an' suck party ... oh man, are we ever!"
"No! No! . . . please . . ." she cried out and tried to get to her feet.
". . . an' we're gonna ivatch a movie too, ain't we, Harry?" Pete called from across the room.
"You can't . . . please, you can't! . . . please . . ." Laura's voice was naked in its plea but her begging only made the two invaders laugh.
"Why not, baby?" Harry taunted. "Duke's already showed it to you once, ain't he ... an' I know your ol' man here would like to see it . . ." Then his voice lowered and overflowed with satisfaction as he added, "Especially since he financed it!"
"He's lying . . . he's lying!" George Stoneham shouted to his wife who was staring incredulously at him. "He doesn't know what he's talking about ... I... I don't know anything about any movie!"
"George, why . . . WHY!" she asked, her eyes brimming with tears.
" 'Cause he wanted to be able to cut out, to divorce you, baby!" Harry laughed. "You been framed by your old man!" Then he added, "Though I gotta say that you been makin' it awful easy for him . . . you sure jumped on ol' Duke here, didn't you!"
"You bastard . . . you rotten bastard!" Duke shouted across the room, his rage slowly changing to pleading when he turned to Laura Stoneham. "Laura, I didn't know anything about this . . . please, you have to believe me!"
But the woman's eyes were still on her husband who cowered in front of Pete and had turned his head away so that he wouldn't have to face her.
"Then . . . then the movie . . . the whole thing was your idea! Why? Why, George? Why?" she asked incredulously.
"No, no, it wasn't. I don't know what they're talking about, I don't know anything about this . . ." he mumbled softly. The man who only moments earlier had been overpowering Duke with his confidence and control had disappeared and a strange cowardly crumpled little man had taken his place. George Stoneham had become so used to his authority never being questioned that a situation such as this was completely unknown and beyond his capability. He'd withdrawn into himself and seemed barely conscious as though he were praying himself into a trance ... a trance where none of this would be happening. He wanted someone there to help him, someone like Jana. He knew that she would be able to take care of him ... he wanted her . . . not Laura. Laura wanted his help, she wanted explanations . . . she wanted him to stand and throw these horrible men out of their house, and she wanted him to explain why he'd done what he had. But Jana . . . Jana was different. She would help him!
"George!" Laura screamed. "Answer me! Tell me why!" Then her voice trailed off as she realized that her husband was unhearing and unseeing.
"Hey, baby, stop buggin' your old man," Harry laughed, "it don't look like he's even listening." He paused for a moment as he pulled a tube - one of those nasal inhalers - out of his pocket and sniffed at it and then passed it to Pete. The fat man grabbed it hungrily and thrust it into his nostrils. Laura watched his eyes widen as he inhaled whatever was in the tube and then for several seconds he and Harry seemed to be in a daze. When Harry spoke again his voice was stronger and filled with a strange tone of elation or excitement.
"So, you want to know what your hubby was up to, huh? Well, I'll tell you since he don't seem to want to do any talking ..."
Laura listened intently and with the raw, brassy taste of revulsion as the drugged man explained the whole story about her husband and Duke. She forgot her present situation - forgot the intruders and the threatening pistol, forgot Harry's promise of a 'party' that was going to take place. It was incredible! How could she have been so mistaken about her husband! How could she have been naive enough to believe that her husband would never want anyone else! God! If only he had told her . . . none of these sordid things would ever have happened! She didn't want his money . . . with the house and her clothes and car, she had all the money she'd ever need. And Duke! She turned to look at the downcast head of the young blond man. Poor Duke, She knew now that he had fallen in love with her, and perhaps she too had fallen a little in love with him. For a short time, anyway . and he had done all that to her just for a chance to be in a silly movie! She began to feel sorry for them both. Laura Stoneham was a very unusual woman - contrary to her husband's beliefs, she had no desire for vengeance or vindictiveness. She had known her marriage was going wrong and had herself come to believe that there was no way to repair it. She would gladly have given him a divorce without more than a nominal settlement. She'd once respected him - she knew how good he was at his work and had only felt that they were unsuited for each other. Because of this respect, she would have done nothing to harm him - but now all this was gone. All she could feel for the cowering figure in the corner was contempt. . . contempt and a mild irritation at herself for being so naive. And for Duke she felt only pity . . . that huge, attractive man was empty inside ... a beautiful shell that enclosed the mind and character of a greedy child ...
Another woman, she thought as she looked again at George Stoneham. I wonder who she is and what she's like ...
"Hey, Georgie!" Harry shouted to her husband, breaking her chain of thoughts, "your wife don't even seem to care ... Man, you sure blew it! Maybe our little party will cheer you up; you're lookin' a little down in the mouth," He turned to Pete. "Keep an eye on the chick and set up the projector. I'm goin' out to the car and bring in our present for Georgie here,"
Oh my God, the movie! Laura's mind snapped back into the sordid reality of the present. She started to get up, then fell back as the fat man waved his pistol at her.
"Don't move, baby! I'd sure hate to hurt you 'cause we're gonna have a little fun first!"
She watched in horror as he wandered about the room setting up the projector and screen. He weaved slightly and seemed unsteady on his feet and she wondered what it was that he and Harry had been sniffing from that inhaler. She saw him set up the screen and thought detachedly that it was strange that he should pick exactly the same place Duke had such a short time ago. A short time that seemed like an eternity . . .
"Yeah, baby," the fat man said, licking his loose, rubbery lips. "I ain't seen this flick yet. It oughta really be something from what Harry tells me ... ."
She started to speak, but was interrupted by Duke. "You fat, rotten bastard! I'll kill you! I'll kill ..."
Pete moved across the room with extraordinary speed for someone so big and slapped the blond man viciously across the face. "Shut up, you pimp! You been makin' a little too much noise . . . I'm gonna fix that!" He walked over to Laura and for a moment she thought he was going to hit her as he reached down, Instead, he took the front of her blouse in a huge hand and in one brutal motion ripped it completely away.
She lay there with her breasts heaving beneath the black lace encasement of her abbreviated brassiere, tears filling her terrified eyes as she watched the big man cross the room again and shove the garment into Duke's mouth. Duke tried to struggle and turn his head away from the choking gag, but Pete kept hitting him until he remained still and allowed himself to be silenced Pete looked back at Laura when he had finished. His eyes widened with a strange light as they focused- on her rising and falling breasts - almost completely exposed by the small uplift bra. He started to move toward her and she cringed back in horror. Then the front door opened.
"Hey, man," Harry shouted, "don't be in such a hurry! We got plenty of timel Besides," he added lewdly, "I'm first! I told you that." Pete stopped and waited as Harry reached behind him and pulled someone else into the room. "Hey, Georgie. I got a present for you!" Laura's eyes rose at the same time as her husband's. She stared uncomprehendingly at the voluptuous blonde Harry pushed into the room. It wasn't until she heard her husband gasp weakly that she realized who the woman was.
"Jana!" George Stoneham shouted. "Thank God you've come! ... I ... I ..." His voice halted and his face twisted in puzzlement. "What are you doing here! Oh my God! What have they done to you, darling!" He tried frantically to rise but the ropes held him firmly in his chair.
"You scum!" he shouted at Harry and Pete. "If you've harmed her . . . you'll regret . . . I'll have you killed! I'll have you killed!"
"Oh shut up, old man!" Harry chuckled evilly. "We ain't hurt her . . . have we, Jana?" She didn't answer, only shook her head. Laura stared in rapt attention at Jana Rogers.
She had the same look as the two men - dazed and with her eyes dilated and glittering with a strange, drugged light. God! She is beautiful, Laura thought appraisingly, but she looks so hard.
"Jana, darling, what are you doing here?" Stoneham asked weakly as though he hoped his question would never be answered.
"She came to join our party," Harry interrupted, laughing, "Ain't that right, baby?"
"No! No!" George Stoneham screamed. "Jana, tell me it isn't true . . . Oh God, tell me why you're here . . ." His voice trailed off in bewildered confusion.
"Jot here for the party, just like Harry said, honey," the blonde answered with a strange dead tone in her voice.
"But why! Why!" the incredulous man shouted. "I thought you loved me ... I thought you loved me ..."
Harry Vincent laughed loudly. "Loved you? You poor bastard! Jana loves just one thing. Money! Well, maybe two. You love sex too don't you, baby?" He turned, still laughing, back to George Stoneham and said: "But, 6Y Pete and me, we convinced her that her scheme to get all that money from you would never work . . . didn't we, baby?" Then he chuckled lewdly again. "An' as for the sex . . . She'd do better to get that from me and Pete and the boys . . . jus' like she's been doing for years!"
"You're lying!" Stoneham screamed, "Jana, please, tell me that he's lying!"
"Shit!" Pete shouted. "This broad's been put- ting out for years! Man, she'd worked every bar along the beach before she started thinking big . .. Ain't nobody I know ain't had her . . . including ol' Duke here." He paused reflectively, " 'Course, always had to pay for it... but it was worth it. Christ! That chick sure throws a wild fuck!"
Still, the woman said nothing, and for a moment the only sound in the room was George Stoneham's soft crying.
"But, me an' Pete got to thinkin'," Harry said, "and decided it just ain't right for a cheap whore to get her hands on all your money. Naw, it just didn't seem fair. An' ol' Pete here knew a few things about Jana, like before she left the beach and changed her name to Rogers, and we figured she wouldn't want such juicy information passed onto the cops." He pulled the blonde girl next to him and said softly, "Ain't that just about it, baby?"
She nodded with a resigned expression on her face.
"Yeah, we even thought about waiting and let-tin' you and her get married and then we'd put the squeeze on her. But we couldn't be sure how much spendin' money you'd give her and besides., it would take at least a year for your divorce here in California and me and Pete just didn't feel like waiting!"
He walked over and patted George Stoneham on the head like a dejected puppy and added sardonically, "So, little Jana here's decided to help us with our 'party' and maybe I can get some good shots inside instead of havin' to stand out in the cold like the other night."
Laura's husband didn't look up and his shoulders had crumpled into the shapeless form of a rag doll's as he sat crying softly. Laura sat still on the floor, her arms shielding the naked upper curves of her breasts and her mind whirling in confused torment as it tried to absorb everything that had happened and been said. Duke Hagel sat silent and motionless in the chair in the far corner. His eyes were shut tightly and his nostrils flared as he tried to draw in enough breath to avoid choking from the tight gag in his mouth.
Jana Rogers had moved to the bar and was pouring herself an almost full glass of vodka while Pete fiddled with the stereo. Harry seemed to be the only one really doing anything as he threaded the film through the spools of the projector and sniffed from time to time from the inhaler in his hand.
"There, it's all set," he said finally. "In a minute you're gonna be a star," he laughed at Laura and then turned to Duke, "an' you're gonna give the first and best performance in your career, beach boy!"
"Want me to turn off the lights?" Pete asked anxiously.
"Naw, not yet . . . we gotta get everyone in the mood," Harry answered with an evil leer on his face. "Hey, baby," he said to the girl at the bar, "get some more of these sticks." He pointed to the one in his hand - "outta my coat over there."
He walked over to Laura. She cringed away from him in terror, trying to cover her breasts and crawl backward at the same time. "Hey, beautiful, don't be afraid of me . . . we're just gonna have a little fun . . . that is, unless you make it hard for us. You wouldn't wanna get tied up and banged around like those two, would you?"
She shook her head, the frightened tears splashing on her cheeks from the movement.
"I didn't think so . . .now take your hands away, baby. I wanna see those big titties of yours!"
She didn't move at first, but then as he reached down as though to hit her, she reluctantly pulled her hands away.
"Hmmmmm . . . not bad . . . though this thing sorta gets in the way," he said suddenly and in one movement ripped her bra away.
Her abrupt gasp coincided with his as his eyes locked onto the heaving fullness of her firm, thrusting breasts - tipped with the hardening coral of her nipples. Her mind screamed out in shamed agony as the rush of cool air washed across her breasts and made their tips harden and become erect. She tried to turn away from his lewd, hungry stare and a sheet of blushing red shame crossed her face.
"Hey, Pete . . . look at those jugs, man!" Harry shouted unnecessarily, for the fat man had been staring intently from the first moment as if he had known what his partner was going to do. His eyes were wide and glittering and a thin trail of spittle seeped from his heavy loose lips.
"Baby, you're alright . . . ALRIGHT!" Harry said softly. "We're sure gonna have us a good time tonight! Shit! I thought you looked good in the pictures I took . . . but it wasn't nothin' like this!"
"No! . . . Please ... no ... no!" she screamed. "Don't touch me! Don't touch me, you horrible beast!" She tried again to move away from him but his hand shot down and grabbed her painfully on one quivering breast. He twisted the erect, sensitive nipple brutally until she moaned in agony and once again was still.
"Look, baby, I know you're scared . . . but I ain't gonna hurt you. See! I even brought along something to make you enjoy it, didn't I, Pete?" He pointed to the small plastic cylinder in his free hand and continued without waiting for his accomplice's answer. "You know what's in this inhaler, baby? A trip! A great big beautiful trip! It's gonna make everything real pretty an' nice!"
He thrust it into his nostrils and inhaled deeply. Again, that sudden wild look came into his eyes and he seemed to lose his balance momentarily. He shook his head, as if trying to clear the dizziness from it, and then his eyes narrowed again in satisfaction, "It's special medicine, baby, for a special kind of cold!" He laughed aloud as though he'd just found a very funny joke. "Yeah, you got a cold all you gotta do is sniff my special medicine an' you suddenly got a 'hot.' Ain't that right, Pete, don't this make you all warm and hot inside!"
The man by the stereo didn't answer. He just waited motionless except for his eyes that roamed ceaselessly across Laura's nude, thrusting breasts.
"Speed, baby," Harry chuckled. "That's what we got . . . speed, A little Amyll Nitrate and Methedrine in a tube! It's the greatest trip ever ... ask Jana . . ." He turned . . . "ain't that right, Jana?"
Without warning, be reached down and grabbed Laura by the hair and lifted her head up to him. She tried to scream but the sound was suddenly choked off by the flashing sensations that swam before her eyes as he shoved the inhaler against her nose. She felt as if her head had suddenly exploded into a starburst of blinding colors and her eyes seemed to swell until they would no longer fit inside her head and had gone off somewhere where everything was whirling and turning down a bright tunnel. At first, she tried to push her head away but it was useless and he kept pushing the inhaler at her. She could hear his laughter at the bottom of the deep well that was her mind and then her straggles gradually lessened and her body started to float somewhere above her. A voice in her brain kept shouting something at her but she couldn't understand . . . something about fighting him . . . but why? . . . everything was so beautiful . . .
Finally his hand moved away and she collapsed against the floor. But the feeling still remained, not as strongly as when the inhaler was against her face but still enough to make her whole body feel warm and beautiful... she could feel everything ... the slight movement of air around her as it caressed the tiny hairs on her arms and blew across her breasts and circled her nipples ...
The voices seemed so far away. She could vaguely hear the man, Harry, telling someone to give the drug to the others in the room - and she heard shouting ... it sounded like her husband . . . but it didn't matter to her . . . nothing mattered to her . . . die dream merchant had sold her his wares ...
Chapter Eight
The room was darkened slightly and again, as it had a few afternoons earlier, the whirring of the projector filled the room. There was the sound of shaky laughter, the suddenness of muffled gasps, and occasionally the sound of clinking glass and ice. The film had been nmning almost twenty minutes and during that time there had been very little drinking - instead there had been the small plastic cylinders, the sudden gasping inhalations, and the eerie silence that followed.
Duke and George Stoneham were still bound to their chairs but seemed to no longer be fighting against their bonds because of the drug, Methe-drine, that had been fed to them - and Laura lay, half-nude and dazed, on the floor. She no longer felt Harry's clumsy, pawing hands groping for her breasts ... she only felt their heat and the trembling sensation they were causing.
Jana Rogers still held her glass but it was for- gotten in her hand as she inhaled the strange, hallucinatory essence from the tube that had been given to her - and Pete sat motionless and silent at her side as he stared at the flickering scenes on the screen before him. It had been this way almost from the beginning of the film - except for . the sudden bursts of Harry's lewd, nervous laughter there had been almost no comment among the six people who had been thrown together so incongruously.
And of the six of them, each watched the wildly erotic movie with vastly different emotions . . . and to each of them the reaction would soon make itself known.
Duke Hagel saw the film as barely more than a blur as he tried desperately to untie the knots at his wrists as unobtrusively as possible. He had loosened them slightly already and no one else in the room seemed to notice his quiet struggling as he tried to break them completely free. The movie had become an ugly part of him that he wanted to erase, to cut out, and his mind twisted in tortured agony with each realization of the degradation he'd brought upon Laura Stoneham solely through his own greed.
But it was entirely different in the case of fatf man Pete. He had never seen anything like the movie before him ... it had obsessed him to a point beyond reality. Perhaps it was the drug, or the knowledge that the girl on the screen sat only a few feet from him in Harry's arms, or maybe the burning touch of Jana Rogers as she leaned against him . . . but his body had never before felt the raging lust that now engulfed it.
Each time he watched he saw Duke's thick, swollen penis disappear into the hot, welcoming tightness of Laura's vagina, saw the dark and blond pubic hair intermingling, and watched the sensual melding of moist, glistening fluids that surrounded the blond man's driving shaft he felt that it was he, and not Duke, who was making love to the beautiful girl on the screen . . .
His heavy body writhed against the carpet and the pain that had begun to swell in his short, stubby penis and down in the throbbing sensitivity of his testicles almost made him cry out in agony. The front of his trousers was covered with the stains of seminal fluid for he had ejaculated the.first time when he'd seen Laura Stoneham's warm, hungry lips encircle Duke's penis and draw and suck at it until the blond man had attained orgasm. Pete had felt her lips and her tongue on him and as the look of final satiation and ecstasy had crossed Duke's face, so had it contorted the fat man's - and there had been no stopping the sudden discharge that had stained his trousers.
Again it had happened when he had felt his lips, his tongue delving into the velvet depths of Laura's cunt. The strange, exotic taste still lingered on his palate as he collapsed against the rug beside Jana Rogers.
But this time was the worst! For there had been no release! Pete squirmed in pain on the floor, his eyes wide and glassy and his lungs a fiery bellows, as he watched Duke driving his thrusting hardness into Laura's eager, twisting body ...
If Laura Stoneham had known the fat man's thoughts at that moment it might have excited her even more than the touch of Harry's hands. For, instead of revulsion at the vivid re-enactment on the screen before her, she felt the same rush of sudden want and desire. The drugs that had been forced upon her had wiped away her feelings of shame and horror and had replaced them instead with an eager, hungering thirst. She moaned softly beneath Harry's grasping fingers. Each touch seemed to be intensified a thousand times by the heated warmth of the man's probing fingers . . . and when his hand moved to the waistband of her tight slacks she made no effort to resist. He seemed content at first to ignore the opening she had made for him by inhaling and sucking in her stomach until the waist of her slacks was loose enough for his hand to slide beneath. He moved his hand further down on the outside instead ... slowly . . . until it cupped the gentle swell of the mound at the uppermost juncture of her thighs. His other hand still trailed lightly across the pleading erectness of her nipples, cupping, squeezing, tenderly pinching . . . but it was the hand between her thighs that finally drove her to such surrender that it was she who reached for die zipper at her side. Unknowing and uncaring, she began to slide her constricting silken slacks from her slowly rotating hips ...
Jana Rogers reached for wetness and the bulge in the pants of the man beside her.
It was true that she had been a prostitute for many of her years, that she'd made love to so many men whose faces she'd never even seen because of the darkness in uncountable rooms, but she had never done it solely for the money. For Jana Rogers there had always been the other thing - the search for someone who could satisfy the voracious hunger that throbbed incessantly between her thighs , . . she'd never found him and the insatiable nymphomania that lapped constantly at her body had never been conquered. It made no difference to her who the man was, or the place, or the amount of money . . . she only wanted someone to relieve the tortuous need in her body - and tonight there was Pete again ...
George Stoneham sat above them, bound helplessly in his chair, and watched her hands pulling down the fat man's zipper. God! It can't be! his mind screamed at him. She can't be like that! In answer to his mind's horrified crying, her hands reached inside and reappeared with the man's wet, throbbing penis between them . .. And then the film ended and fluttered against the projector and the room was brightened by the light on the blank screen.
No one moved for several seconds, then Harry rose and turned off the clattering projector and flicked on the room's brighter lights.
Everyone was frozen into a wild, erotic painting in the sudden blinding glare. Only their eyes blinked weakly like a mole's breaking from darkness into dazzling sunlight. Laura lay paralyzed in the act of removing her slacks and now they remained halfway between her knees and her feet ... her stomach rising and falling with her heavy breathing and the dark, triangular outline sensuously evident beneath her gossamer panties. Her face had a wild, dazed expression and her eyes opened and closed against the sudden glare. She was leaning back against her elbows now and her firm, ivory breasts swayed only slightly to her side in her relaxed ppsition. She looked like a sensual, provocative courtesan . . . expectant and eager . . . and her half-removed slacks somehow heightened the allure of her pose.
Pete was on his back, breathing heavily as Jana's hands stroked and pulled at his swollen, thrusting penis. A trace of spittle still flecked his lips and his mouth was open and gasping like a fish thrown onto the beach by the surf . . .
Duke's head was turned away as though the abrupt light hurt his eyes and George Stoneham still moaned softly into his clasping hands with his head bowed.
Only Harry moved. He walked around the room, looking at each one of them with a leering, sadistic smile on his face. He paused above Laura and his hands reached for his belt buckle as he spoke. "PARTY TIME! . . . it's party time!" he shouted and dropped his trousers to the floor.
His sudden abrupt shout seemed to shake the others out of their dazed, drugged lethargy and each turned to watch him through their heavy-lidded eyes as he, stripped his shorts away. He stood before them chuckling evilly and his heavy, throbbing penis jutted outward from its nest of wiry, black hair like .the swinging boom of a ponderous, mechanical crane.
"You... Georgie!" He pointed to the weeping, broken man. "You're going to provide us with our first bit of fun . . . you and Jana!"
The blond girl looked up from Pete, her eyes puzzled and expectant.
But Harry had turned away and was busily extracting a camera and attachments from their leather cases on the table by the door. He walked back and chuckled to Pete who'd begun to regain his composure, as it was, and had started to fasten his trousers again. "Sorry to interrupt your fun, man, but we gotta take care of business first . . . and we need Jana baby to help us... don't worry, you'll get her back again soon!" Harry reached down and pulled Jana Rogers to her feet. She stood a little unsteadily, the combination of drugs and liquor weakening her coordination.
"Come on, Jana baby, throw off those rags . . . I got a little job for ya." He turned back to Pete. "Let's go, man, speed it up so we can get this over as soon as possible and get back to playin'." He tossed the fat man another inhaler of Methe-drine. "Work on Georgie a little with that . . . we don't want him to put up any struggle . . . he's gotta look like he's enjoyin' it!"
Pete grabbed the older man by his hair and lifted the bowed head. "Come on, Stoneham," he growled, "I got somethin' for you." He thrust the inhaler under the other man's nose and held it there as the man gasped and choked against the acrid fumes. Soon, George Stoneham relaxed and became completely complacent. He sagged against his bonds and it was evident that he'd lost all desire to struggle.
Laura watched numbly as Jana turned her back for Harry to unzip her dress. The sudden lights and the several moments without the drug were slowly returning her to almost normal consciousness and the licking tongues of fear had begun to probe again in her brain. What is happening? she thought dazedly. Why am I here? And then, as the remaining vestiges of Methedrine and Amyll Nitrate began to dissipate, everything started coming back to her. Oh God! No! . . . no! her mind screamed at her as her senses reacted to the memory of Harry's threats ... his hands . . . and the lewd and obscene atmosphere that had fallen over the room. She looked down, shame and horror widening her eyes, and groped frantically for the waistband of her slacks and tried ineffectually at the same time to cover the heaving nakedness of her trembling breasts.
Harry moved away from Jana as her dress fell to the floor and watched Laura's frantic movements with a leering smile on his face ... his eyes narrowed with a wild glitter . . .
"Don't waste your time, baby . . . we'd only have to rip diem off you again," he said, laughing cruelly.
She shrank back from the evil in his mocking voice, but her hands stopped and she made no further effort to cover herself and she left her slacks wrinkled halfway up her quivering thighs.
She sat motionless watching the other girl undress.
Jana Rogers was swaying provocatively and sensuously before George Stoneham as she reached behind her back for the clasp of her bra. His eyes followed her in a hypnotic trance and a happy, foolish grin had replaced the forlorn expression of dejection he'd been wearing earlier. The drug Pete had given him had done its work. In George Stoneham's mind there were no longer any thoughts of fear, neither was there any will or resistance - and he seemed to have forgotten that the girl who now taunted him was the same one for whom he had so readily and regretably altered his life. Gone was the memory of her treachery and in its place had come a growing sensual excitement as he watched the lacy bra fall to the floor, and saw her full, pink-crowned breasts thrusting themselves at him, then sway gently as she leaned forward until they were only inches from his face.
Jana Rogers had become a stalking, golden leopard, or perhaps an even closer comparison would be a cobra that swayed sensuously and hypnotically before its mesmerized victim before it launched its attack. For a mesmerized victim is what George Stoneham had become ... his eyes were glassy and saw nothing but her movements ... and his mind was oblivious to presence and sound of everyone else in the room. Even now, as the fat man, Pete, thrust the Methedrine. inhaler at him again he accepted it without resistance and administered it to himself without ever taking his eyes away from the luscious, swaying body of Jana Rogers.
His wife watched him incredulously as he groped blindly for the blonde girl as she stepped away from him and began to remove her last garment - a flimsy pair of pink silk panties ...
Jana stood only inches from the ineffectually pawing man and slowly slid the sheer wisp of silk down her thighs and kicked it away with her feet. Then she straightened and stood before him without moving . . . her feet splayed to the side and her small fists on her hips like a conquering warrior over a vanquished opponent. George Stoneham gasped and reached clumsily for her but Harry and Pete suddenly appeared at his side and held him back.
"No, man ... not yet!" Harry said contemptuously to the pleading man, "we gotta set da stage .. . you oughta know that, man, you're a producer, ain't ya?" He stepped back and as he adjusted the focus of his camera from the readings of a light meter in his hand, he motioned to the other man, Pete. "Get those clothes off him, an' untie him ... he ain't gonna give us no trouble now!"
Minutes later George Stoneham sat there naked and half-reclining in the chair. Pete held him back by the shoulders and Jana Rogers was leaning forward and running her fingernails across his trembling legs.
"Jana, baby, you know the kinda flicks I want ... go ahead and get him up," Harry laughed contemptuously, "if you can! Let's hurry up and get this over with." He turned and looked mean- ingfully at Laura. "I got other things I'd rather be doing!"
For a while it seemed quiet in the room except for the soft music from the stereo and Laura lay there on the floor, afraid to move and terrified by Harry's threatening remarks. She'd begun to wish that she still had the Methedrine inhaler because it had at least numbed her tear, had done even more than that she recalled, but now that the drug had worn off, it had left an even accentuated sense of fear and shame. She tried to close her eyes to the obscene and horrible spectacle before her but her attention kept being drawn to her husband, the pitiful man that he had become, and the lewdly provocative girl who was now kneeling in front of him. Laura found that if she concentrated only on the girl she could hear what Jana Rogers was saying.
". . . and you liked the movie, George?" she taunted, and at his mumbling nod, continued, "That was your wife and Duke over there, George, they were fucking . . . and more than that, George . . . she was blowing him! Did you like to watch that, George? Does that excite you?" Spittle drooled from his lips as he nodded again and tried to grab her but still Pete held him back.
"Has she ever blown you, George; has she ever taken your cock in her hand like this ..." Jana reached between the drugged man's legs and her fingers gently enclosed his hardening penis. "Has she run her fingers over you like this, George?"
"Yes . . . yes," he moaned incoherently, and with his soft, slurred answer Laura felt the tears of shame streaming down her face and buried her head in her trembling hands.
Duke, too, had stopped fumbling with the ropes that bound and was listening. Christ! he thought, that Jana's going to tear that old man apart. Then he almost smiled to himself as he thought of the overpowering and arrogant man who'd been ordering him around earlier and compared him to the weak bag of flesh sitting helplessly broken while the blonde girl taunted him. If nothing else, watching Stoneham now almost makes this whole thing worthwhile, he thought to himself. Then his eyes turned back to Laura and his mind cried in pain at the sight of her helpless, trembling form. Duke knew what would happen when Harry or Pete got hold of her and his body shook with rage .because he was powerless to do anything about it ... unless . . . if he could only get the ropes . . .
Pete moved away from Stoneham. There was. no need to hold him now, and his fat, feverish fingers played with his stubby, swollen penis. Listening to Jana taunt the older man, watching her stroking him, was beginning to drive Pete out of his mind and he didn't know how much more he could take. Those two bitches are going to pay for this, he thought, including Laura, making me wait until my balls feel like they're gonna explode. That fucking Harry! Why doesn't he get those goddamn pictures outta the way so we can get down to a little fun!
As if reading the fat man's thoughts, Harry ges- tured impatiently with his camera. "Come on, goddamn it! Jana! Get on with it. You ain't gonna get him any bigger than that!" he said scornfully.
"You forget, Harry baby," Jana looked up, "I know exactly how big I can get him!"
She turned back to George. "When she takes you in her mouth . . . does she do it to ya good, George?" Stoneham gasped with a sharp intake of breath as her fingers fluttered at his crotch and slowly stroked and scratched him with her fingernails.
"All the way down on it, George ... or just to here?" She held Mm tightly in one hand and with a trailing index finger measured off half the length of his throbbing, swollen penis.
"No," he gasped, squirming against her touch, "more than that . . . right to the hilt."
Her fingers roundly encircled him now, caressing downward to the sparse, curling pubic hair. "You mean . . . here?" She pressed at the base of it, then grappled in lower and freed his balls, cradling them in her palm. "These too, baby?"
"Uh ... Uhhnnh . . . no," he moaned, "not that low . . . not that . . ." his voice trailed off incoherently and he was visibly trembling with the soft, tickling feel of her hands on him, his excitement causing his prick to swell and throb and bringing glistening beads of moisture to the head of it.
"Show me how far she goes, baby," Jana seized fais hand and pulled it down around his cock, her eyes seemingly hungry to watch him touching himself there.
"Here," he moaned, letting his hand move softly down the length of it, then tapping the base and quickly pulling away, wanting her hand there, wanting her to touch him again with the searing heat of her fingers. George Stoneham's attention was completely unwavering . . . completely on the girl kneeling between his widespread knees... he was totally unaware of Harry as he moved around to different angles with his camera, the flash that kept going off again and again ...
"Jeez, baby . . . then she got every last inch of it," Jana taunted, fingers pressing again. "She must love it too, baby, if she can gobble up that much of it ... did her mouth feel hot on it ... was it hot?"
"Please, darling ... no more questions . . ." George moaned, licking his dry, burning lips, his thighs quivering for her. "No, tell me!"
"Warm," he said softly. "Her mouth was . . . warm on it."
Jana leaned down and gently kissed the head of his throbbing prick, nothing more, raising up again. "Did she suck it fast or slow?" "Oh Jesus! . . . fast, I think . . ." Her fingers fretted at the tiny slit-aperture at the tip, lightly. "Warm and fast, huh? But you like it hot and slow, don't you, daddy?"
Yes. Yes. His head nodded. He was unable to speak.
". . . with a lot of tongue action . . ." she continued.
"Oh god! Yes! His brain screamed at her. Yes! Goddamn you, hurry!
With a swift and graceful flourish, she slipped down further on her knees and leaned forward, staring and supplicant as if in prayer,, her eyes drinking in the hardened rod of flesh between his legs. She bent lower and gently blew warm breath against the hairs of his balls, then raised up again as George shivered and flexed the muscles in his toes and legs and knew that he'd never in his life felt so hard and stiff and aching as her eyes scanned the length of his pulsing, throbbing shaft, and he could look right down into the ivory, velvet valley of her breasts while, maddenly, she simply held the firm, swollen rod in her hand. Jana swallowed a few times and let her tongue dart in and out until her lips looked moist and dewy, that ripening pout of her mouth so parted and ready, but still only lurking, not touching . .. a seasoned torturer giving him the agony and the whip.
"Did she drink it?"
"Oooooh . . . no," he said, his throat so dry he could hardly get the sounds out.
"I'll drink it, baby," she added teasingly, He leaned back and flung his legs wider apart, totally unaware of anything he was doing, and when her wet, satiny lips first touched him, he uttered a hoarse, shuddering groan, pulsing and expanding the knob as it flared deeper between her yearning lips ... while she softly feasted downward until her mouth was full and plump with him, and his whole body was caught up in the chilling hot tremors of sensation. And then a newer, more blinding jolt when he felt her tongue acting out its promise, swirling and licking and driving him wilder with its ruthless pressures and suctionlike strokes. Oh God! He was so happy! He knew she loved him as he watched his plunging swollen roundness slide in and sweetly out of her lovely ovaled mouth, and he felt all langorous and swallowed and safe in her grasping, enfolding, heated touch... he was safe! There was no one else there in the room! She was his!
Harry Vincent watched the man's enraptured expression through the viewfinder of his camera and knew that he had the kind of pictures he needed. Anyone viewing the printed photos would never believe George Stoneham had been forced into anything ... not with that silly grin on his face.
Chapter Nine
"You gonna fuck her now, Harry?" Pete's voice knifed into her brain and Laura's eyes widened in terror as she tried to scramble backward on the carpeted floor, almost crab-like, but the tight slacks that had been pulled to her ankles tripped and grabbed at her until she was barely able to move.
"Yeah, man, I'm gonna fuck her now," Harry said softly and menacingly. "You just get over there and play with Jana baby .. . this one's mine first!"
Laura tried to scream but no sound came. Harry walked toward her, his naked body hairy and sweating, and behind him, through his legs, she could see Pete watching. His eyes wide and wild and his lips glistening wetly.
Pete wanted Laura now. More than anything in the world! She looked so frightened and helpless ... so beautiful and exciting as she tried frantically to crawl backward away from Harry, Harry stalked her, moving slowly in a large mocking circle and Laura Stoneham could only cower and scramble backward ... a lovely, terrified and helpless creature.
Pete licked his lips. He barely noticed Jana Rogers who lolled sensuously against the edge of the couch. She'd completed her 'assignment' with George Stoneham and now just leaned back with her drink and watched with half-closed, heavy eyes. Her face was devoid of expression and she was completely unaware of Laura's husband as he sat, bent forward and crying softly. The drug had worn away arid with its departure had come the memory of what had happened to him . , . the camera ... the soft, taunting voice of the girl who had betrayed him. Though Pete and Harry had no way of knowing it yet, they had gone too far with George Stoneham. He had been truly in love with Jana Rogers and though he'd so cruelly tried to blackmail his wife into giving him a divorce, he was still by nature a sensitive, almost gentle man and the treachery of the two men and the girl he loved had been too much for his mind to accept. He would come out of this evening an empty, unthinking shell ... no longer aware of society or his work .. . and oblivious to their threats of blackmail. He was a broken man and his mind had relapsed into the hurt mentality of a child who couldn't understand why everyone had been so mean to him.
"Hurry up, goddammit, Harry!" Pete's voice screamed hoarsely. "I want her too, goddammit!"
"Shut up! I told you she's mine first!" Harry growled and reached for the terrified girl who was trying to escape him.
"No! No! YOU PIGS! Neither of you will ever have me .. . NEVER!" Laura shouted frantically. "You fat, disgusting slobs! I'd die first!" She tried to get to her feet but Harry caught her and slapped her brutally.
"Neither of us, huh? You bitch!" he shouted. "Why, you fuckin' cunt! We'll both get you at the same time! Come 'ere, Pete!"
The fat man almost ran across the room.
"Get on your knees, you slut!" Harry backhanded her again and Laura fell, almost crumpled, to all fours. He grabbed her by the hair and shoved her helplessly onto her back where she squirmed with her arms and legs kicking wildly like an overturned beetle.
"I'm gonna teach you who's gonna get what!" he yelled and grabbed her by the ankles and spread her legs wide apart.
He got onto his knees and slid bis hands upward on her long, ivory legs, feeling the muscles straining beneath the silken skin of her thighs. He thrust his hands forward suddenly to the flimsy band of her panties and tore them away so brutally they cut painfully into her skin before they fell apart.
His hands moved to her crotch and his fingers curled in her soft, blonde pubic hair and traced the trembling pink lips of her vagina "Hey, man, ain't she pretty an' tight . . ."he said softly as though to himself and then leaned over and ran his lips and tongue over her heaving breasts, taking the nipples between his teeth.
Laura kept screaming, not knowing whether she was making any sound because of the thunderous pounding of her heart that kept echoing in her brain and drowning out everything else. And she kept trying to claw him, but Pete had moved around and his strong, pudgy fingers ground into her wrists.
Harry had her thighs up now, had her bent backward, almost double, and he'd lowered his head. Laura's stomach convulsed and her breasts seemed to flutter with a life of their own for Harry's tongue had begun to flick against the trembling outer lips of her cunt, searching for, then finding the quivering, rising bud of her clitoris.
"Ahhhhh . . . Uhhhnnnnnnhhhh!" she moaned, wanting terribly to fight him, and the horribly lewd thing he was doing to her, but slowly, ever so slowly, her struggles lessened.
God! It's so crazy! I can't! I can't! What is he doing to me . . . Why can't I fight him? . . . Over and over the torturing, questioning thoughts tumbled through her mind. But his tongue kept erasing all the answers.
Then, without warning, the dam burst and in spite of her horror and revulsion, she began to want him.
Harry felt her thighs moving in to grasp him in a soft, insistent pressure, felt the struggling in her legs dying until there was only gentle quivering left. The muscles of her inner thighs flexed constantly against the sides of his head, her warmth burning his ears, the sweet, musky smell of her assailing his nostrils as it bellowed forth past his.probing tongue ... and he knew that he had to have her ... he couldn't wait much longer . . . but it had to be his way . . . by his rules!
He felt the hot wetness of her trembling and contracting cunt begin to wash across his lips and he knew she was ready.
"Turn over," he grunted. "Uh, come on, Pete, help me turn her over." He pulled back and Laura felt her body rolling, turning in the empty coolness where so much heat had been seconds ago.
What was happening? Oh God! Where is he? Her impassioned senses cried out to her. She could hear voices but through the tumbling whirlpool of her maddened, lust-filled mind she couldn't distinguish any of the words.
"... about me, Harry? What about me?" Pete whined. "You said both of us ... how? ..."
"Shut up, you stupid prick! You'll see," Harry rasped. "Just give me a hand. Put her on top of me!"
Laura felt herself being lifted, turned, and suddenly there she was, straddling Harry . . . her full, swaying breasts dangling just above his glistening lips. And she could feel it. The hot, searing burn as his penis brushed and jarred against the sensitive, skin-prickled cleft of her buttocks! It teased and tickled through the soft, velvet, moistened crevice . . . upward . . . until it touched the curled and silken vagin hair, "Ahhhhh . . , yes! . . , YES!" she cried. "Put it in me! Oh God! Put it in me!"
Again and again she cried out to him as his huge, swollen prick brushed against the eager, waiting lips of her cunt . . . but still he made no move to rise up to her.
Finally, indesperation, she reached down between their bodies and took him in her hand and positioned his hardened cock herself. A sudden, rearing scream built in her throat as she dropped her hips and completely absorbed and enveloped him in the velvet heat of her cunt. But the scream caught at her clenched teeth as she gasped for breath and struggled with her movements and the fierce milking contractions of her vaginal muscles to bring him totally thoroughly into the tight, hot confines of her cunt.
"Oh God ... oh God . .. ohGodohGodohGod," she moaned, and her hips rose, fell, and ground in circles around him, Harry's breath came in great, rasping gasps and the room seemed to be swimming above him as her hot, clasping cunt clenched and crushed him ceaselessly . . . and then Pete's voice broke the spell that blinded his mind and senses.
"When? Harry? . . . Harry, you bastard!" the fat man shouted, "You promised!"
"Now, you idiot . . . now!" Harry spat him.
"Now! Shoce it in her ass!"
"Huh?" Pete's voice questioned, then his eyes widened in sudden, happy comprehension. "Yeah, Harry . . . Okay! . . . yeah . . , yeah ..." Tete scrambled around to the rear of the wildly thrashing couple, his knees scraping on the rug until he was finally in position to claw at Laura's bobbing, swaying buttocks with his eager, trembling fingers.
The fat man knelt behind her, his hands grasping and squeezing her tender, bared flesh and Laura's mind finally thrust the meaning of Harry's words brutally into her brain.
"NO! No! You can't . . . he'll kill me! . . .
"Hurry up, Pete," Harry shouted and grabbed Laura's shoulders and pulled her forward until her face pressed against his neck. She was bent down against his head, but her buttocks and the trembling invitation of her tiny, puckered anus rose high and beckoningly to the fat man. Harry had lifted himself slightly off the floor in order to keep his throbbing shaft buried in the burning heat of her cunt and now he held her body still except for her convulsive trembling.
"Arrrrrggggghhhhhhh!" Laura screamed suddenly as Pete's swollen, probing rod found the small puckered mark and began to edge brutally into her rectum. "Arrrggghhhh Uhhnnnnnnnnnn ..." Her voice trailed off in indescribable pain as he slipped tortuously through the tight, elastic nether ring and without pausing, pushed deeper and deeper into the never-before touched region of her body. The fat man had become a huge, fiery sledge that seared and burned its way into the very heart of all her senses and nerve-ends . . . there had never . . .
never been such horrible flaming pain.
Then as his short thick penis finally bored itself in to its hilt and her body expanded to envelop its foreign intrusion, the pain began to subside ... it burned and it hurt, but not nearly as much as before - and now as the two men began to move again inside her, she could feel the two great shafts of flesh brushing against each other - separated only by the thin wall of membrane and nerves down between her widely spread thighs and buttocks.
Pete's face was contorted into a hideous mask of lust and depravity; his fat body quivered and shook in great rolls as he drove his fat lust-hardened cock in great, brutal strokes in and out of the girl's helpless rectum . . . his eyes were bound to the sight of his flesh appearing and disappearing into the dark, clasping opening that held him so hotly and tightly. He saw nothing else . . . heard nothing except the girl's soft grunting moans and the wet slapping of her cunt down against Harry's body below.
Harry, too, was lost in a maddened pool of lust and hunger. The girl had begun to squeeze and milk him again with her eager muscles and the velvet heat of her body had washed away everything but the blinding sensations that had begun to ripple through his body.
It came free! Finally, the rope fell away from his wrists! Frantically, Duke slashed at the cord around his ankles with feverish, clumsy ringers until it too broke loose and jumped out of the chair. He lurched forward, toward the two men and Laura on the floor, when the voice stopped him.
"Duke!"
He turned and stared in helpless rage at the gun in Jana Roger's hand.
"Wait, Duke," she said again softly. He saw almost blindly that she was fully dressed again and stood by the arch that led through the kitchen to the back door.
"Come here," she whispered softly, then saw his eyes staring at the revolver she held. She dropped her hand.
He moved quietly toward her.
"Duke," she pleaded. "If I give you the gun, will you let me get away and swear that I was never here?" She nodded toward George Stone-ham. "We'll never get anything out of him . . . and besides ... I ... I'm sorry I've hurt him so badly." She held the gun out to Duke without waiting for his answer.
He nodded numbly to her as he took the weapon and motioned for her to go. Then he stopped her.
"Jana," he whispered, his eyes watching the struggling figures on the floor, "please, before you leave . . . call the police from the phone in the kitchen. I promise you won't be involved."
She nodded and hurried out.
Duke looked at the churning, contorted forms on the floor, heard their heavy, animalistic grunts and knew they wouldn't detect him as he walked toward them. A strange smile played across his face as he listened to their final wails before orgasm.
"Oh God, oh God, fuck harder, fuck harder! I'm cummming! . . . I'm cummmmmniming! . . . Aaaaiiieeeeeeee!" The helplessly battered girl screamed as the two raging, snorting male animals increased the thrust of their cocks fucking into her two widely stretched orifices.
"Ooooooohhhh. you little bitch! . . . Ooooooohhhhh, you fucking little bitch!" the desperately puffing Pete groaned as Duke watched him jerk forward, burying the whole of his thick, fat cock deep into Laura's wildly squirming anus. He came like a bull and the horrified Duke momentarily clenched his eyes tightly shut as he watched the hot, thick liquid of his orgasm bubbling out around his hardened rod of flesh and trickling lewdly down over Harry's cock plunging into her spasmodically contracting emit from below. Harry screamed too and Duke knew he too was emptying the lewd sperm of his loins deep, deep up into the young innocent wife's drug insatiable bowels.
There were a few last grunts of interminable satisfaction and the three sweat-glistening bodies collapsed heavily onto the floor, Lauras still quivering; nakedness sandwiched tiehtlv between the two men who had just flicked her into insensibility.
Duke stood over the trembling mass of wetly fused flesh for a moment and slowly raised the gun in his hand to the level of Pete's head
"Pete. Oh Pete," he crooned softly and waited as his face slowly turned into the barrel. "You look this way too, Harry," Duke crooned again and squeezed once, twice, three times* splattering the blood of the two horror-stricken faces over the nakedness of the unconscious girl's body, "It'll be a while before she knows anything," Duke thought thankfully to himself. And then, maybe . . . just maybe , . . she'll never know it all. It might give us a chance together . . . it just might . . . God in heaven, I hope so!
