The four men stared at the beauty before their eyes. At the contrast between her arms and legs which were tanned a dark brown and the white of her torso. Their eyes devoured the large breasts which were tipped by circles of dark red and thick, pebble-hard nipples. Eagerly their eyes swept down to Marcy's incredibly narrow waist and the sleek belly. Then four pairs of eyes moved to the wide hips and the full thighs, to the curvy calves and the dainty ankles. Then the eyes moved back to the golden fringe between Marcy's thighs and the men drooled as they thought of the treasure and the sweetness concealed there.
Marcy turned then, moving so slowly until she had completed a half circle and they could inspect with their eyes the jutting mass of her buttocks.
Once again she moved in a half circle, and now the lust in the eyes of the men was undeniable. Marcy said lightly: "Am I right in assuming you like what you see?"
There were hearty murmurs of agreement and she continued. "For the benefit of the Judge, I'd like to say something that the rest of you know. Namely, that I'm a" virgin!"
"Now, shall we start the auction?"
The Judge blurted out the question that was in all their minds. "Just what are you auctioning?"
Marcy chuckled, ran her hands seductively over her body, tweaked her nipples and drawled, "What do you think, Judge?"
CHAPTER ONE
As she finished putting the last few bottles of beer and pop in the locker so they could cool overnight, Marcy Lennox knew that Chad Brown was watching her with greedy eyes. She had only to look at her reflection in the mirror and she could have guessed what he was looking at.
But Marcy didn't have to guess what Chad was staring at; she knew. His eyes were roaming from the 39 inch breasts that jiggled every time she moved and shoved against her sweater like mountains, to the tight band of cloth that snuggled across her crotch.
Or, if her back was to him, like it was now, Chad would be staring at the saucy roundness of her buttocks and at her long, lush legs, which were visible almost in their entirety beneath the faded blue shorts.
At last she turned around. Slowly she stretched. She knew this did things to her body and she guessed, from the way he gulped, that it did things to Chad, too.
"Hurry up and finish your pop, Chad. I want to close. I've got to get home."
"Why don't you let me drive you?" Marcy asked herself the same question. She knew he'd try to make out with her. But that was okay. That fitted right in with her plans. Marcy Lennox wasn't going to hang around Palmville, a little town in the west Florida panhandle, all of her life. She was going to get away just as soon as she could. And, while Chad didn't know it yet, he was going to help her.
So she smiled and said: "Sure, honey, I'll ride home with you; if you're going that way."
"Might as well. There's nothing else to do." Marcy knew what he meant. Even if she was only 16 and her father still thought she was a baby, she knew a lot. For instance, she knew what Chad Brown and Marylou Williams did together every night.
Except Marylou had been out of town for two weeks. And since Chad was used to getting his loving regularly, he was trying to get Marcy to substitute for Marylou. He could afford to mess around with Marcy since she was just a cracker; and, after all, they weren't anything but trash.
And yet, Marcy Lennox was different from most crackers, much to Chad's disappointment. She had proved willing to neck like mad and pet up a storm; but that was as far as Chad had been able to get.
Marcy turned off the lights, leaving one small bulb burning as was the custom, then locked the door to the small building that was a combination lunch counter and bait store, and which provided her and her father with a living.
Slowly she and Chad walked to his Chrysler convertible and he held the door for her, then walked around and vaulted into the car. Marcy sloughed down in the seat as he backed out of the parking lot and then she turned on the radio, switching the dial to a rock'n'roll show. With an air of familiarity she opened the glove compartment and took out the bottle she .knew would be there.
The fiery moonshine was still burning in Marcy's stomach when Chad turned off the road and pulled into a clearing. He killed the lights and the engine and reached for her and she came to him willingly. Expertly he parted her lips with his tongue and calmly unbuttoned her sweater. As soon as it was parted he reached for her bared breasts and. Marcy twisted until she lay across him while he teased the nipples with his fingers.
They kissed for a long time and then Chad moved his lips downward. As his mouth moved back and forth across her breasts, he ran his hand tentatively down Marcy's slightly rounded belly until he saw that she wasn't going to stop him.
Then he undid the button and zipper on the shorts she had made from a pair of her father's old blue jeans. Once he had tugged them a half inch or so down her broad hips, he slipped his hand into her panties and began immediately to caress the crease of flesh that lay under a thick blanket of hair at the base of her torso.
However, when he tried to ease her shorts and panties completely off a few minutes later, Marcy moved her hand from his neck and stopped him.
"That's enough, Chad; you'd better take me home now," she said; swinging away and fixing her clothes. Chad swore angrily under his breath and started the car, knowing that he was licked. Not that he couldn't have achieved his desire by strength if persuasion wasn't enough. But Marcy had an answer for that, an even better answer than her sharp nails she had a father who would kill anybody who he thought had had his daughter.
So Chad turned back onto the tar road and started towards Marcy's house. Then he felt Marcy slide over until she was leaning against him. Calmly she undid his fly and touched his swollen manhood, drawing it from his trousers. Chad slammed on the brakes and let Marcy manipulate him, scaling her hand up and down until he was forced to arch his back and gulp air at the intense feeling she produced.
However, when the car stopped at the dirt road that led to the Lennox's shack Marcy wouldn't let him drive her any closer because she didn't want her father to know that she had anything to do with boys she kissed him so feverishly and rubbed against him so eagerly that the favor she had done him with her hands was wasted. And Chad just hoped that Marylou would get home soon.
The next morning, Marcy got up early and crammed her lush body into last year's bathing suit. She had added several inches to her bust and hips since the suit had fitted properly and it clung to her so tightly that if she had had a pimple, it would have shown. Marcy Lennox didn't have any pimples; so, none showed. However, everything else did.
Donny Jones was just too aware of how well everything showed as Marcy Lennox ran down the beach towards him. like Chad Brown, Donny was trying to get something going with Marcy; like Chad he wasn't getting as far as he wanted.
Donny threw his cigarette into the Gulf and lay back on the blanket as Marcy threw herself down on him and let her tongue become a darting shaft of fire in his mouth. Slowly his hands ran over her back, kneaded the firm flesh of her buttocks, then tugged at the zipper in the back of her suit. Marcy sat up then and shook her shoulders, causing the top of her suit to fall away, revealing her large breasts, with their half-dollar size circles around the thick nipples.
Bare to the waist she returned to Donny's embrace and thrilled as his hands started stroking her breasts and his mouth met hers. A few minutes went past and then one of Donny's hands crept downward under the tight cloth of her swimsuit. Marcy ran one of her hands under Donny's trunks.
Then Donny's hand reached the tangled mat of hair that proclaimed Marcy's womanhood and she gasped and gripped his hard passion with a tighter hold. His fingers began to move and hers did the same; then their hands picked up speed, moved faster and faster. Suddenly they went wild as they thrilled each other.
At last they were composed and Donny, as he lit cigarettes, asked her: "When are you going to do more than this kid's stuff?"
Marcy grinned at him and replied, "Come to the stand after I close tonight ... and, Donny, bring some money. Bring lots of money."
An hour later, after she had left Donny and changed, Marcy Lennox was boarding the houseboat home of John Fisher, a retired Army man. Marcy cleaned John's houseboat every morning, and every morning he tried to talk her into going to bed with him. Every morning she refused. But, this morning she told him the same thing she had told Donny. And John was just as amazed as Donny had been.
And so was Chad Brown when Marcy called him and gave him the same message.
Marcy surprised one other person that morning. He was Judge Kramer and he and Marcy had never met; although they knew who the other was. And one of the things that Marcy knew about Judge Kramer was that he had a hankering after young girls. So she wrote him a note:
Judge, If you're not busy tonight, you might come by Hank Lennox's store. Bring lots of money. I have a proposition that should interest you.
Marcy Lennox As usual, Hank Lennox left the store at eight and went home. Marcy closed half-an-hour earlier than usual and when the four men arrived at ll, she was through getting ready to open in the morning.
She led Donny, Chad, John and the Judge into the backroom of the building and gave them all a cold beer. As they sipped from the bottles, she knew what they were thinking. They were wondering what was on her mind and why the other three men were there.
Marcy soon explained. "With the exception of the Judge there, all of you've been chasing me, trying to get what you could. Right?"
They nodded and she continued, "I don't know why the Judge hasn't gotten around to chasing me...
"A mere oversight, my dear. One that I'll rectify immediately," Judge Kramer interrupted her to say.
Marcy smiled. "Then I guess I could say that all of you want to get me in bed?" There were murmurs of agreement as Marcy's hands went to the buttons of the coat she was wearing. The men wondered why she was wearing a raincoat indoors, in the middle of July.
Then the buttons were undone and Marcy shrugged the coat off and they saw why; Marcy didn't have anything else on.
The four men stared at the beauty before their eyes. At the contrast between her arms and legs which were tanned a dark brown and the white of her torso. Their eyes devoured the large breasts which were tipped by circles of dark red and thick, pebble-hard nipples. Eagerly their eyes swept down to Marcy's incredibly narrow waist and the sleek belly. Then four pairs of eyes moved to the wide hips and the full thighs, to the curvy calves and the dainty ankles. Then the eyes moved back to the golden fringe between Marcy's thighs and the men drooled as they thought of the treasure and the sweetness concealed there.
Marcy turned then, moving ever so slowly until she had completed a half circle and they could inspect with their eyes the jutting mass of her buttocks.
Once again she moved in a half circle, and now the lust in the eyes of the men was undeniable. Marcy said lightly: "Am I right in assuming you like what you see?"
There were hearty murmurs of agreement and she continued. "For the benefit of the Judge, I'd like to say something that the rest of you know. Namely, that I'm a virgin!"
"Now; shall we start the auction?"
The Judge blurted out the question that was in all their minds. "Just what are you auctioning?"
Marcy chuckled, ran her hands seductively over her body, tweaked her nipples and drawled, "What do you think, Judge?"
"What are the terms?" Donny asked, in a breathless voice.
"Cash on the barrelhead. And whoever is high bidder gets to stay until 7:30 tomorrow morning. Pa gets here at eight, you know."
"Won't your father wonder where you are tonight?"
"He thinks I'm staying at a girl friend's, helping her sew a dress.
"Now, will one of you start the bidding with $50?" It turned out that all of them would.
The bidding went fast and furious until only the Judge and John Fischer were left, since Chad had dropped out when the bid went past $250 and Donny when it reached $400.
"$615," said Judge Kramer, reaching his limit.
"$620," answered John. The Judge's heart sank. And then Donny was kneeling beside him, whispering to him.
It took a second for Donny's voice to sink in and then the Judge heard him say: "You know that little cove I own, Judge?" The Judge knew very well. It bordered on his estate and would fit perfectly at the end of his lawn. He'd been trying to buy it for a couple of years and had offered $550 the last time he'd talked to Donny about it. He nodded that he knew and Donny went on, "Give me $600 and it's yours. I'll come by tomorrow and sign the papers."
As the Judge reached for his wallet, Donny whispered, "Watch Fisher's face."
John was beginning to count out his payment when Donny stood up and drawled, "I'll bid $I,000."
The other four mouths dropped open. Marcy looked questioningly at Fisher, who shook his head. Casually she asked, "Would the rest of you like to reserve me for a night. At your highest bid, of course."
There was agreement, and Marcy said, "Then I'll see you tomorrow, John; you on Thursday, Judge; and you on Friday, Chad."
"What about Saturday?"
Marcy shrugged. "I'll let you know." She walked to the door and let John, Chad and the Judge out; locked the door and turned to Donny. He looked at the surplus Army cot in the corner and shook his head.
"Not here," he said, "not for your first time." Marcy crossed to him and pressed the length of her ripe body to his as she kissed him. His arms came around her and moved his hands down her body to grip her resilient buttocks. Slowly his tongue probed the inside of her mouth until Marcy ran her hands through her hair and started tickling his ears. Then she tugged at the lobes and Donny shoved her away and swore: "Damn! Get some clothes on and let's get out of here before I end up laying you on that cot despite my good intentions."
Marcy hurriedly slipped into her panties and shorts and pulled a polo shirt over her upper body.
She shoved her bra into her purse, unlocked the door, flipped the night latch on and the light off and started to pull the door shut as Donny stepped outside. But then she stopped and held out her hand: The money, Donny?"
He thrust a wad of bills at her, pulled out his wallet and gave her some more. "I'll be right back," Marcy said as she entered the darkened storeroom. She was true to her word and a few seconds later and she and Donny were walking, with their arms linked, to his MGA.
"Why are you doing this?" Donny asked as they drove away.
"I want to get out of town. And that takes money. I have some saved, but not enough. And I knew that the way things were going, with you and Chad and John all after me, before long I'd end up giving it to one of you or having one of you be half drunk and take it. So I figured: Why not make it pay off?
"I didn't think I'd get as much as I will. But I figured I'd get enough so, come Sunday, I could be on the bus heading out of town."
"Why Sunday?"
"Pa gets drunk on Saturday night and won't miss me. The store isn't opened and he won't know I'm gone until Monday when I don't show up."
Donny slipped his arm around her and Marcy nestled her head on his shoulder and whispered, as Donny turned into the road that led to his trailer, "I hope you won't think I'm just saying this, Donny, but, if I had just let somebody do it to me; it probably would have been you." Donny braked to a stop, took her head in his hands and kissed her.
In a second though, he released her, sprang from the car and moved to open the door on her side. They walked to the trailer and Marcy noted that his hands trembled as he unlocked the door.
Then they were inside and wrapped in an embrace, with Donny's hands molding her hips to his as he kissed her. But it was another short and chaste kiss and Marcy couldn't figure out what was going on when Donny stepped away and asked her if she wanted a drink.
"Sure. A little Bourbon and ginger ale." Marcy paused, then asked, "Shall I get undressed?"
"No. I mean, what's your hurry? We've got all night, don't we? I want to go slow and easy and make your first time one you'll remember ... and enjoy."
Marcy smiled at him and started towards the couch. Then she saw the record player. She indicated it with her thumb. "May I?"
"Sure. But I don't have any rock'n'roll. The closest I come is some Ray Charles."
"I don't think rock'n'roll is appropriate," she said as she flipped through his albums. Somehow, Donny didn't figure that the Ornette Coleman, Jimmy Giuffre, Prince LaSha and Yusef Lateef albums that she had selected were the type of music that would do anything other than irritate her. He certainly didn't think they were the type of music she would choose to loose her virginity to. He was wrong on both counts.
The exotic, eerie sounds of the jazz started to work on her nerves and Marcy began to feel out of context with her world. Here she was, sitting alone with a man in his home, sipping a drink and listening to music that was unlike anything she heard on the radio. A sense of unreality prevailed as far as she was concerned.
It didn't even seem like it was Marcy Lennox who was sitting in Donny Jones's trailer. It was, she knew, but a new Marcy Lennox. A Marcy Lennox that no one had ever known before. She finished her drink and sat the empty glass on the table at her end of the couch. Then she stretched.
Donny Jones ran his eyes down her body as she did so; ran his eyes over her out-thrust breasts, over the thin strip of bare flesh that showed between the bottom of her polo shirt and the top of her shorts, over the bountiful hips which the shorts clung to, over the slight protrudence at the top of her crotch, over the long, tanned legs which ended in dainty ankles and small feet.
Hurriedly Donny tossed down the rest of his drink and sat his glass out of the way. Then his hands caught Marcy by the shoulders and drew her to him. There was no urgency in his action as his lips sought hers; just as there was no urgency in the way she moved to him and yielded her lips to his.
Their arms locked around each other's bodies and the two pairs of lips started to move as two pairs of hands began to wander over broad backs. The intensity of the kiss slowly increased and, as Donny's tongue invaded her mouth, Marcy moved one of her hands up to his head and pressed his lips harder to hers as her fingers ran through his hair. Then her hand began to tug at the lobe of his ear and Donny ran a hand down her back, pausing to squeeze and knead the flesh of her buttocks briefly, before he moved the hand down her leg.
For a while he caressed her foot and ankle, but then he turned his attention to her calve. A few more minutes passed and then his lips left Marcy's and began to move around his face as his hand reached her thigh.
Still more minutes passed and Donny's lips moved to her neck. His tongue crept out to tickle her flesh just as the fingers on her thigh were doing. Marcy began to nibble at his earlobe and he tightened his grip on her thigh. She shifted a little and parted her legs slightly so he could get his fingers under her shorts.
But Donny went past the top of her thigh, moved his hand over her hips and under her polo shirt. It didn't take Donny long to get his hand, up to her breast, but it seemed like an eternity to Marcy.
Her breasts were already swollen taut from his caressing her leg and now, as his mouth closed over hers, his hand fitted itself to the underside of her breast and pressed upwards as if he were weighing the pear shaped mound of flesh.
The movement pushed Marcy's extended nipple over the rough cloth of her polo shirt and made her shiver. It had been a long time since someone had fondled her breast without baring it first and this added to the excitement that was slowly but relentlessly building up within her.
Donny's thumb and forefinger caught one of her nipples and began to move it around, and Marcy forced his tongue out of her mouth with the wildness of her kiss. As it retreated, her tongue advanced, until it was lodged in his mouth and Donny started to suck upon it.
Then his other hand moved under her polo shirt and slid to her other breast. Both hands squeezed. Marcy moved forward with a surge, forcing Donny back against the leatherette couch. One of her legs swung between his and she pressed tightly against him, while her hands moved between their bodies and started to unbutton his shirt.
Donny's hands left her breasts and moved to the bottom of her polo shirt. As she pulled his shirt open, he pushed hers up, over her head. He slipped out of his shirt and then, slowly, he maneuvered them until Marcy was on her back and he was above her.
Once again his hands cupped her breasts briefly before he began to worry her nipples. Once again his lips left hers and moved across her face. Then they moved down her neck, back and forth over her shoulders, down to her breasts.
His mouth moved over her flesh, around her breasts and between them. Then they went up the large mounds and closed lightly over a nipple. Marcy stiffened and arched her back. Her hands moved to Donny's waist and began to frantically undo his belt and open his trousers.
"What's the hurry?" Donny asked. "We can go easy. Let's take it slow."
"Not too slow," Marcy gasped.
And, as her hands reached his massive passion, Donny replied, "No, not too slow." He lifted his hips and let Marcy slide his trousers and under-shorts off. At the same time he worked the button at the side of her shorts and then pulled down the zipper. Calmly his hands went under the elastic at the back of her panties and he caught her buttocks and dug his fingers into the firm flesh.
At that Marcy gasped, then hurriedly lifted her hips to let him pull the garments that remained from her body. And then Donny brought his mouth back to hers and moved his hands back to her breasts. But, after he squeezed them, only one hand remained above her waist. The other hand crawled over her belly and kept going down.
When his hand reached her womanhood, Marcy felt her hips start to shift involuntarily and she tightened her arms around him to let him know how much she wanted what was to come.
There was the barest contact at first, but gradually Donny touched her naked sex more freely. Instinctively, unconsciously, her body took up the primitive rhythm of love and Marcy suddenly wrenched her mouth free from Donny's and muttered thickly, "Donny ... please!"
He recognized the desperate urgency in her voice and gathered her up into his arms, then carried her into the next room.
A dim light from the living room filtered in and revealed the oversize bed which dominated this room. Gently Donny stretched Marcy out in the center of the bed, then lay beside her.
Gently Donny parted her legs and continued his caresses, stroking the secret flesh between her thighs until Marcy was ready to scream with need.
Her teeth nipped at his shoulder and Donny knew she was ready. So, gently, he moved over body. And still more gently he introduced her to full womanhood.
But, despite his gentleness, Marcy moaned with pain as he sank into her heated body. Donny shifted slightly and pulled back from her. But he didn't leave her completely.
His hands and mouth continued to move over her and gradually the pain receeded within her loins and desire replaced it. Marcy's hips began to churn beneath Donny's and her legs wrapped around him and pulled him forward.
He still went slowly, gently, letting her set the tempo; but he matched her movement for movement, picking up speed with every stroke since her hips were increasing their rate of rise and fall.
Marcy moved faster and so did Donny.
Her breath grew shorter and so did his.
Then Marcy began to murmur. "Yes ... Yes ... Yes ... Oh, yesyesyes. Donny! Donny! Oh, God. Donnydonnydonny!" Her voice broke. And she realized that Donny was babbling incoherently also.
Once again Marcy's hips picked up speed and still Donny matched her.
And then the world exploded for her as it did for him and she screamed as loudly as he did.
The world exploded several more times before daylight. They would sleep for a brief while and then one of them would wake up, wake the other and they would make love and sleep again.
Marcy woke from instinct when sunlight entered the room. She yawned, then sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stretched. Behind her Donny woke up. He watched silently as she padded into the living room. Then he called: "Hey, Marcy. Come back here a minute."
She appeared in the doorway, clad only in her thin panties, with her pocketbook and the rest of her clothes in her hand. Calmly she walked to the edge of the bed and stuck her feet into her shorts as she sat down.
"What are you doing up this early," Donny asked her. It was only 6:30.
"I always get up this early. I have to ... That's right!" Realization of where she was and why she was there hit her. "I don't have to fix breakfast for Pa."
"No. And you don't have to worry about him catching you in the storeroom.
"And I don't think John'll mind if you don't clean for him this morning." Donny's hand came up around her and covered her breasts. Marcy kicked off her shorts and twisted around to fall on him. Their mouths fused in a heated kiss and their hands raced over each other's bodies, stroking skillfully until they were panting heavily and wanting each other as much as they ever had. They acted as if there were only seconds left for them to live and they wanted to take advantage of them.
Donny's mouth dropped to Marcy's heaving breasts and he tugged hard at her panties. But she didn't lift her hips for him to pull them off. Instead she whispered: "Tear them if you want to. I think I can afford a new pair."
Donny needed no encouragement. His hand got a good grip and he yanked hard. There was a snap as the elastic gave and a rip as the cloth parted. Then Donny was on top of her.
Their mouths fused. Their bodies fused. And they started to move together, letting their hips collide at a rapid tempo as they raced towards the explosion they knew would come. It didn't take them long to reach it. Nor did it take them long to reach it the next time.
Or the next.
But finally they had to get up. Hand in hand they went into the bathroom and showered together. Then Marcy cooked breakfast while Donny shaved.
She sat on his lap and they fed each other between kisses. It was a long breakfast. Then Marcy reluctantly got dressed and they started back to town. On the way, Marcy asked Donny: "Do you have a date for Saturday night?"
"I'm not sure. I halfway told Julie Moore I'd take her to a party."
"Get a headache and pick me up after I finish cleaning the store. I'm going to spend my last hours in town with you."
"I'm not sure I can afford another night." As soon as he said it, Donny knew he'd made a mistake. Tears welled up in the corners of Marcy's eyes. They were stopped at an intersection and Donny put his arm around her.
"I wasn't talking about like last night. I want to be with you."
Shyly Donny kissed her tears away as he said, "I'm sorry, Marcy. Really I am. And I'm honored you want to be with me. Of course I'll pick you up. If you want, I'll take you to the party."
"No. I'd better clean up the store. That way, I won't have to worry about Pa stopping by and getting suspicious because the job hasn't been done. He'd never let me go out with a boy, not even you.
"So I've got to keep him from hunting for me by doing things so he'll think I'm really staying with a girl friend and helping her sew a dress."
"Sure. I understand." Donny kissed her again and then started the car.
Despite her lack of continuous sleep the night before, Marcy managed to get through the day without any appearance of being tired. It was easy because she had the natural vitality of youth to keep her going. In addition, she was looking forward to the night.
The day was normal and the only thing that happened that was out of the ordinary was when Donny came in and gave her a package.
"Don't open it except in the backroom," he told her. And then he sat around and flirted with her for half an hour, although he must have known she was aching to see what he'd brought her.
As soon as he left, Marcy raced to the storeroom and hurriedly tore away the paper. Then she burst out laughing as she saw the two pairs of panties and the note:
The spare's in case I want to rip when Saturday night comes.
And she had that much more to look forward to.
CHAPTER TWO
Luckily for Marcy, her father decided to go home early, and she was able to have the stand closed by 10. With an air of anticipation she walked to John Fisher's houseboat. John met her at the door, handed her a sheaf of bills and waited until she had counted them.
But as soon as she had stuffed them into her pocketbook, he drew her to him and kissed her as he pushed her polo shirt up and unhooked her bra. A second later he broke the kiss and stripped her to the waist.
A low whistle escaped from his lips and he half-led, half-dragged Marcy to the bed. As soon as they were stretched out, he put his hands over her breasts and handled them roughly while he filled her mouth with his thick tongue again.
Once again it was a short kiss. John sat up abruptly and began to pull his clothes off. "Get out of your things," he barked at her and Marcy shucked off her shorts and panties.
John was naked by then too and he pulled Marcy to him hard and began to kiss and caress her until she was ready. Her thighs parted and she gave a sigh as she felt the weight of John's body over her and the now familiar thrust of fire as he sought and found her.
She started to move under him, expecting thrills as intense as Donny had given her; but, almost seconds after they started, John gave a shuddering whine and rolled away from her, leaving her with an empty feeling.
Marcy tossed restlessly as John went to sleep. The fires within her took a long time to die, but eventually she too went to sleep. And it seemed as if she had just dropped off when she felt John's lips and hands on her and once again she sought satisfaction and excitement as their bodies joined. Once again it eluded her.
After that, when he wanted her, she gave him what he wanted; but she did it with no hopes and no passion and he cursed her but she didn't care; she just endured his rutting demands upon her flesh and waited for the night to end. The morning didn't come any too soon for either of them.
As Marcy finished dressing in the morning, John called from the bed, "You're the most expensive nothing I've ever had."
"Better luck next time," she answered.
"There won't be a next time," John replied and Marcy thought: How right you are.
She had a little trouble getting through that day. And her lack of success in finding fulfillment in John Fisher's bed irritated her. She halfway wished that she'd just taken Donny's money and spent every night with him until she left. Or that she'd waited until Saturday night before holding the auction.
But she was determined to try to enjoy herself with the Judge that night and with Chad the night after. And, even if she didn't find satisfaction, she wouldn't let them know ... because Saturday night she'd be with Donny. And she knew he'd satisfy her.
Her father went home at noon to get some fresh bait and Marcy asked him to bring her fresh under things and a blouse and skirt. He grumbled something about it taking a long time to make a dress, it seemed to him; but she knew he wouldn't think of checking up on her. For, despite the fact that by taking two years work in one year a couple of times she had finished high school already, he still thought of her as the little girl she'd been when her mother had died seven years ago.
When he returned, Marcy used the shower in the storeroom and returned an hour later, with her still damp hair falling around her shoulders, in the clean clothes he'd brought.
"Damned if you don't look pretty enough to go to New York and be one of them cover girls, honey," he told her. You don't know it, Marcy thought, but that's exactly what I'm going to do, Daddy.
Eight hours later, when Marcy climbed into Judge Kramer's Buick, he told her the same thing. Once again Marcy smiled her thanks, but this time she revealed her plans aloud; and the Judge didn't seem to think her dreams couldn't come true.
They drove to the large house that the widowed Judge shared with a housekeeper-cook who was old and arthritic. Once inside, he asked Marcy if she'd like a drink and, when she said yes and told him her preference, he asked her to go upstairs and put on the outfit he'd laid on one of the beds. He would be up in a minute with their refreshments he added.
Marcy stripped as soon as she was in the room and then looked at what the Judge wanted her to wear. Blood rushed to her face and, if she hadn't wanted the money, she would have rushed out as soon as she'd dressed.
But then she asked herself: Why shouldn't I wear the outfit? Why shouldn't I put on the "black gloves that come almost to my armpits? The black stockings and the extremely high heeled shoes? Why shouldn't I put on the black corset-like thing that starts just under my breasts and ends at the middle of my hips, with long garter straps?
There was no reason why she shouldn't. No reason that equaled $615. So she reached for the stockings.
To her surprise, they were rubber and she had trouble getting them on. And when they were adjusted they fitted tightly against her legs, creating a tight pressure that was disturbingly erotic.
The corset thing was also rubber and Marcy found herself liking the coolness of the material against her belly. She actually hoped that the gloves were rubber too as she hooked the garters to the stocking tops, and she wasn't disappointed.
Slowly Marcy walked to the full-length mirror that hung on one wall. She liked what she saw: The black of the costume against the white of her breasts and hips added to the sense of obscenity the costume produced; but Marcy had to admit that it made her breasts appear even more spectacular than they would have if she'd been nude. She liked that, because she was proud of her breasts. She knew where they could take her. Slowly she cupped them in her gloved fingers, liking the touch of the rubber on them. Deliberately she fingered her nipples into full prominence, then gave her breasts a squeeze before cupping one hand between her thighs and stroking herself.
Then she heard a gasp behind her and whirled to see the Judge standing in the doorway, staring bug-eyed at her. Somewhere he had gotten rid of his clothes and Marcy had to admit that, for a man in his mid-fiftys, he had a nice build, with no trace of a paunch. She took the drink he handed her and started to sit down. But he asked her to walk around.
So she started crossing and recrossing the room, knowing that the high heels were making her buttocks jounce more than usually, that they were causing her breasts to bounce provocatively and making the lines of her legs more effective than flats would have.
She also knew that the sight of her partial nakedness was making the Judge aroused. And she found that what she was wearing and doing was making her aroused also and she wished that the Judge would do more than just watch.
However, she wasn't expecting him to do what he did. She walked close to him and he suddenly pulled her across his lap. One of his arms pinioned her arms to her side and then closed over her breast. The other hand came sharply down on her bare buttocks.
A gasp of surprise issued from Marcy's throat as the hand rose and fell. Gradually it, and the hand that was pinching at her breast, turned her squirms from protest and an attempt to escape into an invitation without her being aware of it. But the Judge was very familiar with a girl's reaction to his particular type of love-making. He knew that, sooner or later, any girl would become aroused by a spanking. He knew that most would become more aroused than they would become more aroused than they did if they were just petted and caressed. And the costume helped arouse them, made them feel sexy.
Marcy squirmed against the Judge in a frenzied motion as his hand pounded against her and suddenly, with a practiced motion, he turned her onto her back and fell between her parted thighs. Immediately she reached down to unite him with her. And then she felt him plunging home and she cried aloud as he started moving, taking them down the path to the exploding worlds which had eluded her the night before.
It didn't take long to achieve them and then the Judge fell asleep with his head on her breasts. It was only seconds after that that Marcy too drifted off to sleep.
They didn't wake up until morning and, after Marcy had taken off her costume, they made love in a perfunctory manner. And Marcy remembered how it had been the night before and a very small world exploded for her. But, she rationalized, a little world exploding is better than no world at all.
And during the day, Marcy wondered if there would be any explosions with Chad that night. She also wondered where he would take her. She knew he and Marylou used the couch in Marylou's living room after her parents had gone to sleep. But where would Chad take her? She didn't really care.
It turned out that he took her to a cheap motel about 20 miles east of town. It was a sleazy place and the old man who took Chad's money and pointed out their cabin didn't even look into the car to see who Chad was with.
The inside of the cabin was as drab as the outside: a bed with frayed sheets and an army surplus blanket, two rickety wooden chairs, a pay radio, bare light bulb and walls whose paint was peeling off. But Marcy and Chad weren't interested in their surroundings. If the bed didn't fall apart they would be satisfied. In fact, if it did fall apart they wouldn't be too concerned, they would still have the mattress.
Marcy sat down on the bed. Chad sat down next to her. His arm went around her and his mouth came down on hers like a hawk on a rabbit. Marcy had been expecting this and her mouth was open for his tongue.
His hand went under her skirt. Marcy had been expecting this too and she had deliberately seated herself with her legs apart. She felt Chad's hand on her thigh, crawling higher and higher as he French kissed her enthusiastically. Then the hand moved under her buttocks and he tugged at her panties. She lifted herself so that he could pull them off.
In an instant they were past her ankles and
Chad was pressing her backwards as he shoved her skirt up and swung between her legs. There was a brief moment while he opened his trousers and pushed them to his knees and then he was taking her with a savageness that served to excite her as if he had spent a long time playing with her.
Chad's hands closed over her breasts and Marcy responded to him, catching his buttocks in her hands and pulling him closer. Then she felt him loosing and her hips churned relentlessly, urging him to continue. Not that he needed much urging. Chad was slightly oversexed to begin with and the little relief Marcy had given him with her hands now and then in the weeks since Marylou had been out of town had only banked the fires of desire within him.
His hips moved steadily against hers, picking up speed with almost every thrust. And then Marcy squeezed him tighter to her as thousands of worlds exploded and she pushed her mouth away from under his and gave vocal proof of the pleasure that he was giving her.
Chad continued to match her stroke for stroke and movement for movement, as she thrust her hips in and out against him until she felt the sharp force of fulfillment a second and then a third time. But then they were too exhausted to continue and they lay limp and contented in each other's arms.
However, they recovered quickly and Chad stood up and began to undress. Marcy didn't need him to tell her to do-likewise. Indeed, as soon as he left her embrace she was reaching for the buttons on her blouse.
When it was opened, she rose, picked up her panties and walked to one of the chairs, where she dropped the panties and slipped out of the blouse. Then her hands went behind her back and worked the fastener and zipper on her skirt.
It fell to the floor and Marcy bent to pick it up. Chad stopped removing his shoes to marvel at the way her bra-covered breasts hung down. Then Marcy laid the skirt over the back of the chair and removed the bra. As he always did, Chad gulped at the sight of her bare breasts. Then he asked her to bend over and swing her arms.
Marcy did as she was requested, although she was mystified as to why Chad would want her to do so until she realized that her actions were causing her breasts to sway from side to side. Then she understood.
Suddenly Chad was in front of her with his hands cupping her breasts as he pulled her upright. He fondled her breasts expertly until Marcy wrapped her arms around him and kissed him torridly. Then she felt him stir against her and rubbed his loins with hers.
They broke and dashed for the bed, with Marcy flopping onto her back an instant before Chad hit the mattress beside her. His hands squeezed her breasts and Marcy gasped. Then his lips raced over them, back and forth, from one breast to the other and excitement built up in her so that she arched her back and churned her hips as she pressed his head to her breast.
Then Chad was joining them and Marcy sighed with satisfaction as he fitted himself into the saddle of her pelvis and began to move. She got to sigh quite a few times before morning came.
And she had trouble staying awake that day.
Donny noticed this when he picked her up and he remarked: "You seem tired? Are you?" When Marcy nodded, he went on: "Doctor Jones prescribes a good nights sleep for you. Without any interruptions or delays."
"But I want to make love with you. And I've got to be on the bus tomorrow."
"No, you don't. You can forget the bus tomorrow and spend the day with me."
"If I don't take the bus tomorrow, Pa'll find me before it gets here on Monday and I won't be able to leave town until next weekend."
"Don't take the bus."
Sure. 'Don't take the bus, 'he says. Do you want me to walk?"
"Nope! But there's nothing that says I can't drive you to Pensacola on Monday morning and put you on a plane. That way, there'll be no trace of how you got out of town. You can fly right to wherever you're going."
Marcy snuggled up to him and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "But, don't you think we could delay my sleep a little, Doctor?"
Donny nodded. It turned out that they delayed it for over an hour-and-a-half.
The night passed quickly and when he woke up, it seemed to Donny that he'd only been asleep for a few minutes. But a glance at the clock showed him that 10 hours had past since he'd gone to bed.
Then he gazed at the nude form beside him. He bent over and kissed Marcy gently. Her eyes sprang open and she grinned at him. "What do you want first ... me, or breakfast?"
Donny pretended to give the matter great thought before he answered: "I think I'd better have breakfast first. That way I'll have strength for you."
Marcy pouted and acted as if she were upset, angry and disappointed. Until Donny kissed her again that is, because one thing led to another after that and he proved that he still had a little strength left. Then she was happy to fix breakfast.
After eating, they washed the dishes and read the Sunday papers. Marcy wasn't really interested in them and neither was Donny, but they pretended to be absorbed. However, it was a losing fight. So, after a short while they put the papers away and turned their attention to what did interest them, each other.
Marcy went over and sat on Donny's lap and they began kissing, sending their tongues into each other's mouths and moving their lips against each other's. But, before long kissing wasn't enough.
Donny's hands started stroking Marcy's breasts, he moved his lips to them while his hands started caressing her legs. Then Marcy caught hold of him and started doing things to him. And Donny let one hand brush the raised mound at the base of her belly.
And suddenly petting, as nice as it was, wasn't enough and Donny picked Marcy up and carried her to the bedroom, stretched her out on the bed, lay on top of her, and they had what was enough.
They had it fast and they had it slow and finally they couldn't have it any more because they didn't have the strength left. So they slept in each other's arms.
And then it was Marcy who woke first and looked fondly at a nude body. It was Marcy who kissed someone awake. It was Marcy who put her tongue into a mouth that received it eagerly. It was Marcy who ran her hands down a body.
Then she moved her mouth and kissed Donny's nipples, making him sigh with appreciation. He had never thought that having his nipples kissed could be so exciting. And he found out that it was even more exciting when Marcy moved her lips again and kissed his stomach, dipping her tongue into his navel.
Marcy started to move her head again. But
Donny stopped her. "Don't you want me to, Donny?"
"If you want to, I won't stop you. But ... if you're going to, don't do it that way; turn around. And then do it."
"Why?" Marcy wanted to know, as she shifted on the bed.
"Because, I've got a mouth too," was Donny's reply. Then his hands cupped her buttocks and she slid across the sheet. His tongue licked wetly at her and she would have cried aloud if she'd been able to. But she was too busy trying to give Donny thrills that were equal to those he was giving her to make a sound.
It took a long time for them to recover and when they did, Marcy hopped out of the bed and went into the living room. In a second she was back.
"What's that?" Donny asked, indicating the book in her hand.
'Tour marriage manual." Marcy flipped through the pages and then stopped. "Yes; there's a chapter on positions to make love in."
"So?" Donny was still perplexed as she sat up.
"Let's try them all," Marcy suggested, swinging onto the bed and settling herself in his lap.
By midnight they had tried them all. They had also tried a few ways that they had thought of themselves.
CHAPTER THREE
Marcy Lennox stood in the doorway of the room where her acting class met and waited for Ray Wilson to finish talking to the instructor. Ray was a new student in the class, a tall boy in his early twenties, with dark hair and a funny, crooked smile that didn't affect his moody eyes. This was Marcy's first date with him.
As Ray moved his hands expressively, Marcy lit a cigarette and tried to figure out what it was that was knocking at the door to her conscious mind. Then she figured out what it was today was her first anniversary in New York.
Has it really been that? she asked herself. Has a year really passed since I got here? It didn't seem possible that that much time had passed since she'd gotten off of the plane, an unsophisticated girl with dreams of setting the world on fire, of becoming a cover girl or star entertainer.
Marcy had spent her first couple of nights at a good hotel and wandered around town gazing at the huge crowds, at the tall buildings, at the immaculate girls who strode so purposefully past her on the streets.
Then she'd realized that, in a town so full of good looking girls, she wasn't going to have men falling at her feet the way they had in Palmville. If she wanted to make a mark on New York, she was going to have to go to the people who could help her to the model agencies, the photographers, the casting agents and the producers.
So Marcy had rented a small efficiency apartment in Greenwich Village and started making the rounds, after spending what seemed to her a huge amount of money on clothes and a new hairdo, so she would seem less the star struck girl from the sticks.
Then she'd started making the rounds. The casting agencies had been no help at all. Once they'd found out that the extent of her training had been in high school, they'd lost interest. The other agents hadn't cared either, although one had taken time to suggest that she take acting, dancing and singing lessons and try to get some experience in summer stock or neighborhood theatres.
So Marcy had enrolled in classes and continued to try the model agencies. Here she'd had a little better luck, since some of them had given her assignments.
But the jobs weren't what Marcy had expected. Not at all.
Oh, she'd gotten a few jobs from commercial photographers, who used her hands, or her legs or her face in advertisements; she'd gotten quite a few jobs posing in underwear or negligees for advertisements; and she'd gotten more than a few jobs posing for pinups.
But there was a serious drawback to modeling, she'd soon discovered. She'd been very lucky, finding a photographer almost as soon as she started modeling who liked her and who began to use her regularly.
The first time she'd worked for him, she'd sweated under the hot lights in ski wear. It seemed ridiculous at the time, wearing ski clothes in August; but he'd explained that magazines were made up months in advance, and that ads for the October or November issues had to be shot early enough for the copy that went with the pictures to be written and the layout done and the whole ad gotten to the magazine in time to go to the printers; and it didn't seem so weird.
Then, a week later, Marcy had gotten a call from the agency that had sent her to him and she was told he'd called and requested her again.
Once again it wasn't a lot of work, just posing for a couple of magazine illustrations, but it was still an hour's pay; and Marcy knew that if he liked her well enough to ask for her, she could count on more work from him.
She was right. Two days later he'd called for her again. This time it was to model a new line of bras and panties for a series of magazine ads and she'd worked for two days.
And, when he'd asked her to do some pinups, she was willing. After all, she asked herself, why shouldn't I? I posed for two days in underclothes and what's the difference between pinups and that?
There was a difference, she'd discovered. In the first place, he wanted her to pose in panties and a negligee, with her breasts bared under it. But, by then, Marcy was used to wearing very little in front of a man and she agreed. She also agreed to posing with a towel replacing the negligee and one breast exposed fully.
But, the next time he'd called, she'd been a little hesitant. He'd wanted her to wear black nylons, a garter belt, panties and nothing else. Finally, though it took a few minutes of arguing with herself, she'd agreed.
Then he'd wanted her to take off the panties! "I'll be shooting you from the back," he'd said. "And look at Monroe. She didn't mind having pictures taken of her bare butt, did she? And remember where it got her."
Marcy had turned her back and demurely slipped her panties off, then taken the poses he'd wanted. But, although she'd taken two showers that night, she hadn't felt clean until she'd talked to another girl and learned that there were lots of models who posed that way.
Which had made it a little easier for her to pose the way he wanted her to the next time without any clothes at all, but with a hat, or a pillow or something else shielding the secret of her womanhood. The only thing that she had to force herself to accept was a pose where she draped a huge teddy bear over her body, then locked her legs around it and pressed its head to her breast.
However, when the photographer suggested that she repeat the pose without the teddy bear, Marcy had drawn the line. It wasn't that she objected to nude studies, she posed for a few of them already; but there was a difference between an artistic nude and a vulgar nude. And that was a vulgar nude, as far as Marcy was concerned.
She'd told the photographer that she wasn't interested and he had given her the line about calling her again; but he hadn't. And neither had any of the other photographers who'd wanted her to do poses that she'd considered vulgar.
Which made it tough, since, sooner or later, every photographer she worked with tried to get her to do vulgar poses. Now she was working very little as a model.
And, now she was getting short of money. Not drastically short, since her rent was paid for three months and she had enough to buy food for a month. But she couldn't afford to stay in her classes.
And Marcy wanted to stay in her classes. While she was no closer to making her mark on the world than she had been when she'd arrived in New York from Florida, she was sure that she could become a successful actress if she cultivated the raw talent she possessed. She'd made a good start at cultivating her talent, but, if she was going to continue to do so, she was going to need money.
Suddenly, she thought of Donny Jones. The last thing he'd said before wishing her good luck as she was about to board a plane in Pensacola had been: "If you ever need a hand, or a loan, let me know."
But Marcy immediately rejected the idea of writing Donny. She had made herself a promise not to let anyone in Palmville know where she was or what she was doing until she'd begun to make a name for herself.
So Marcy had three choices: She could get a job as a clerk or a waitress; she could pose for some of those revealing nudes and get back in the photographers' good graces again so they would use her as a model once more; or she could try being a professional co-respondent again.
She'd only done that once, when a girl she knew from her acting class had asked her if she would like to earn an easy $50. Marcy had said, "Sure. As long as I don't have to do anything illegal."
"No, nothing illegal. See, I work for a lawyer who specializes in divorces. In New York, the only grounds for divorce is adultery; and, a lot of people who want a divorce and haven't been playing around, can't afford to go out of state to get it. So, what happens is the lawyer or a detective agency will provide a girl who gets caught in the act with the man."
A look of surprise and shock had crossed Marcy's face and Judy had hurried to explain: "You don't really do anything. You just go to a motel or an apartment and sit around in your bra and panties, have a drink and let the man put his arms around you.
"Then the wife and a private detective come in, take a few pictures and that's it. The pictures are evidence that the man is committing adultery and the wife gets a divorce. Most of the time you don't even have to appear in court. They name a 'Jane Doe' as correspondent and let it go at that; because these couples have already agreed to the divorce and the terms and all they need is an excuse to get the decree.
"Everybody knows the girl in the picture was hired just to have her picture taken in a compromising situation, that the man has probably never seen her before and won't see her again and probably doesn't even know her real name. But, it satisfies the letter of the law and that's all that's necessary."
"It seems dishonest," Marcy protested.
"Let's say it sure as hell isn't ethical, maybe. But why should people who can't go out of state for six weeks or longer to establish residency elsewhere not be able to get a divorce? If anything is wrong, it's the law for making people have to resort to such fakery."
When she looked at it in that light, Marcy could see Judy was right. So, that afternoon, they had gone to the lawyer's office and Marcy had been introduced to a Mr. Baldwin, a short, skinny little guy, going bald even if he was barely in his thirties.
Marcy and Mr. Baldwin went down the street to the second class hotel where there was a room reserved for them and where the house detective co-operated. with the lawyer and acted as an 'impartial' witness to the 'adultery'. And, once they were inside the room, with the door shut, Mr. Baldwin seemed more nervous than Marcy.
So, after they'd stood there a minute, she said: "I guess we'd better get ready."
"Umhum." Mr. Baldwin undid his tie and slipped out of his jacket while Marcy reached behind herself for the zipper on her dress. "Here," he said, "Let me help you." He drew the zipper down and she slipped out of the dress and hung it in the closet.
"Uhhhh, would you ... would you do me a favor, for an extra ten dollars?"
"It would depend on the favor," Marcy replied.
"If you would wear what I've brought, it would be worth an extra ten to me." Marcy thought of the strange clothes that she'd worn for Judge Kramer and decided that it didn't matter if she wore her own bra and panties or the outfit, whatever it was, that Mr. Baldwin wanted her to wear. In fact, for ten dollars, she would have stripped completely. She nodded her agreement and he pulled a small package from his pocket. "If you want to change, I'm sure the bathroom is in there," indicating a door. Marcy nodded again, entered the other room and pulled the door shut.
Hurriedly she stripped and opened the package, discovering what, at first glance, appeared to be simply a pair of fawn colored panties and a bra of the same color. However closer inspection revealed the garments to be very thin leather.
The garments were extra tight, but Marcy managed to wiggle into them, pulling the cord that held the panties on until she could tie them and working the bras shut. The leather was extremely soft next to her skin and the tightness of them caused a tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach.
She returned to the bedroom and discovered that Mr. Baldwin had stripped to his jockey-shorts and that he'd mixed them drinks. When he saw her in the leather costume, he gulped and whistled. "You're extremely well built," he stuttered.
"Thank you," Marcy replied, taking the glass he offered her and sipping at its contents.
"I ... I guess we should be on the bed, they'll be here in a minute." Marcy nodded and he stretched out, with his thighs parted. "Lie on top of me, with your face against my shoulder. That way, the photograph won't show your face, just mine," he suggested.
Marcy did as he said and shivered a little when he started to stroke her back. Then the door flew open and a flashbulb exploded. Marcy, acting on instructions, whirled off the bed and huddled in a corner, with her hands over her face. The flashbulbs went off two more times and then the detectives and Mrs. Baldwin said Thanks and left, closing the door after them.
"Umhum," Baldwin replied. But he made no move to get back into his clothes. Rather he picked up Marcy's glass and handed it to her. "You aren't in a hurry, are you?"
Marcy had an idea what was coming, but she didn't protest, merely said that she was free for the rest of the afternoon.
"How much would it take to persuade you to keep me company for a little while?"
"How much is a little while? And how much do you think my company is worth?"
Baldwin reached for his wallet and pulled out five twenties. "A little while would be an hour-and-a-half at the most."
Marcy smiled and started to reach for the fasteners on her bra; but he stopped her. "Will you do it the way I like?"
"How do you like it?" In answer he pulled his belt from his trousers, shucked off his under-shorts and turned his back to her. His buttocks were crisscrossed with thin scars and Marcy knew what he wanted so she swung the belt and let is slap across his skin.
"Harder," he gasped and she put more force into the next swing. "Oh, yes, that's nice," he gasped and Marcy got into the spirit of things, hitting him until there were red streaks across his body where the belt had broken his skin. Baldwin gave a long, shuddering groan then and turned to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his lips to her belly. With trembling fingers he undid the laces on her panties and pulled them off while Marcy freed her breasts.
As soon as she was naked, he lifted her and tossed her onto the bed, immediately joining her and burying his face against her body. And, after a few minutes of his greedy kissing, Marcy was as hot as she'd ever been for a man. Her hands tugged at him, but he wouldn't move. Instead he seemed to be trying to get closer to her, and his tongue was getting wilder and wilder, filling her with excitement. Marcy caught her hands in his thinning hair and pulled at it and he renewed his efforts.
Suddenly Marcy arched off the bed, full to the core with thrills. "Ahhhhh," she gasped and once more tried to tug Baldwin over her. But he rolled away from her and lay on his back. Hurriedly Marcy moved until she straddled him.
"Ahhhh," he gasped as she sank towards him, surrounding him with the heat of her body. He doubled his legs so she could lean back and his face contorted in ecstasy as she went to work, pumping frantically over him until all the thrills she needed came flooding over her, making her fall, limp and contented, to the bed.
Then, and only then, did he kiss her, touching his lips briefly to hers before pulling away and helping her to her feet. They took a shower together, washing each other's body carefully, and then dried each other.
And when they were back in the main room, before she could start dressing, Baldwin sat her on the bed and started kissing at her toes. He covered the entire length of her body before he stood up and reached for his underwear.
Five minutes later, when they were dressed again, Baldwin looked at the leather bra and panties that were still on the floor. "If you want them, take them," he said. "I think I like the idea of giving you something to remind you of me." After the way he had loved her, Marcy decided she liked the idea too, so she stuffed the garments into her handbag.
Marcy occasionally took the leather bra and panties out of her dresser and wore them in the privacy of her room, using them to aid her in her determination to lead a chaste life in New York. It was not that she had changed her mind about how much fun sex was, but she was scared that some busybody would squawk to the police or something else would happen that would lead to her age being discovered, which would lead to her being returned to Palmville.
This was why she hadn't served as a professional correspondent only once. She didn't want to take a chance of being called to court and getting bad publicity. For another thing, when she'd gone through the lobby after leaving Baldwin, the house detective had come up to her and sneeringly suggested that they go back upstairs where he would show her what a real man could do to her.
"You wouldn't know a real man if he hit you in the face," Marcy had said as she brushed past him and into the street. But she had been scared that if she'd continued in that line of work, she would have to accept such a proposition from a man she didn't want to go to bed with or have him make trouble for her by charging her with being a prostitute.
And Marcy didn't think of herself as a prostitute, despite the fact that she'd been to bed with money for money more times than she had been to bed with them because she liked them. After all, she rationalized, if I was really a whore, I'd go to bed with every man who tried to get me there. And, there'd been a number of men who'd offered her money to go to bed; so, if she was really a whore at heart, she wouldn't have to worry about how she was going to get the money she needed.
As she waited for Ray, she decided that the nudes were the best bet. They would pay more than a job as a clerk and take less time; and they would lead to more acceptable modeling. But still Marcy hesitated. She'd heard that some photographers expected models to do more than just pose. In fact, some of them had suggested to her that, if she didn't go to bed with them they didn't care what kind of poses she was willing to take.
Well, Marcy asked herself, why not go along with them? I used my body to get to New York; why shouldn't I use it to insure that I can stay and continue my classes?
Marcy knew that if she tried to get a job in stock or at a neighborhood theatre, she'd probably have to do so via the casting couch route, since there were three or four applicants for every job and that the producers or casting agents who didn't make their decision on a girl's performance between the sheets were rare.
And Marcy was even more determined now than she'd been in Palmville to become important, to become a star, either by first making a name for herself as a model and switching to films as so many girls had done; or by working her way up through the world of the stage and television.
Then she felt Ray's hand on her arm and she put her thoughts away. At least she put away her thoughts about money problems. Her thoughts of sex stayed very much in her mind, at the forefront, where they'd been for several weeks.
Marcy, despite her fear of trouble, had been thinking more and more lately about going to bed with a man. She was a normal girl and liked sex when she'd had it and she now found herself wanting it again, wanting it desperately as a matter-of-fact.
She and Ray took the elevator from the top floor where the class met, and as soon as the doors closed, Ray pulled her to him and kissed her. Marcy was a little surprised by the suddenness of the act, but she soon decided that she liked being kissed by Ray, so she put her arms around him and pressed against him as she kissed him back. And when Ray slid his hands down her back and cupped her buttocks, she let him draw her even closer to him.
Then the elevator stopped and they had to draw apart. They didn't want to, at least Marcy didn't want to; but they couldn't stand necking in an elevator whose doors were open and where anyone who walked down the street could look at them. They could have ridden the elevator back up to the top floor and down again, but they didn't think about that.
So they made their way out of the building and down the street to the coffeehouse which was their destination. It was just an ordinary coffeehouse and Marcy had been in so many of them in the past year that she didn't pay any attention to her surroundings.
When she's first come to New York, Marcy had made the rounds of agencies or gone on assignments, then gone back to her tiny apartment and read books on the art of acting; but, after a few weeks, it got to be so depressing being alone that she couldn't stand it and she had become a habitue of the bars and coffee houses of the Village, making friends and flirting with the boys in order to have a sense of belonging of being more than just a nameless face in the crowd.
She knew that among the Bohemians who she ran around with she was considered to be frigid, but it wasn't that she didn't want to go to bed with the boys, she was scared of what could happen in the first place, and she hadn't found anyone strong enough to appeal to her.
She wasn't looking for a muscle man, but someone who knew where he wanted to go and was on his way, someone who would make sex a joyous thing between them, a hymn to their own proficiency and hers; someone who would make love with her, the way Donny had done, rather than to her as John Fisher, Chad Brown or Baldwin had done.
Marcy didn't know much about Ray Wilson, but she had an idea he might be the man she'd been looking for. He didn't dress very differently than the other boys she knew, but his clothes had an expensive look to them, he always seemed to have money and there was an air about him that said he was on his way to achieving what he wanted and Marcy hoped that some of his luck would rub off on her.
So, when Ray began to caress her bare knee under the table as soon as they had ordered and received their espresso, Marcy didn't make her usual sarcastic comment. Instead she merely moved his hand and smiled at him. And he merely leaned over and kissed her.
Marcy kissed him back and then he called for another cup of coffee apiece. When they finished it, they kissed again. Then Ray suggested that they switch to beer and Marcy agreed to this. So they had a beer and another kiss. Then another kiss and another beer.
Once again Ray touched her knee; but this time he slipped his hand under her skirt. Marcy started to stop him, but his hand felt so good on her thigh and, since the table prevented anyone from seeing what he was doing, and Marcy decided that she could let him continue.
Then his hand moved. And it moved again. Then again. He kissed her and his hand moved once more, reaching the top of her thigh and cupping over the protruding flesh that stretched her panties.
Marcy suddenly decided that, while Ray might not be the strong, promising man that she'd been looking for, she wanted him to take her somewhere, either to his apartment or hers, and make love to her. She wanted it very much. Suddenly she was tired, very tired, of sleeping alone. She wanted to go to sleep with a pair of strong arms around and her body exhausted by love making.
So she twisted her mouth against Ray's and ran her hand over his thigh, letting him know how she felt. Ray pulled his hand from under her skirt then and stood up. He left a tip on the table, helped Marcy to her feet and led her out of the coffeehouse. And, as soon as they were in the street, he pulled her tightly against him and kissed her with the length of his body.
"Your place or mine?" she whispered.
"Mine's closer."
It was only a block away and suddenly they were inside and Marcy came easily to Ray as he tugged at her. Their mouths fused and he reached under her sweater and she made little sounds in her throat as he opened her bra.
Then his hands were on her breasts and she moaned through the kiss and squirmed against him. Ray moved his hands around to her firm buttocks and Marcy ran one hand through his hair and tugged at his earlobe. The other hand ran down his body until it reached his fly. Marcy felt the fullness of him and wiggled in anticipation.
Suddenly Ray pushed her away and yanked his sweater over his head and his voice was muffled with passion as he told her to get undressed. Not that Marcy needed to be told. She had already unbuttoned her sweater and now she shook it and her bra off. Her hands trembled as she worked the skirt open and then she shoved it and her panties off. Next she kicked off her loafers and stripped off her bobbysocks.
She looked up and saw that Ray was as naked as she and that his arousal ran to lengths that were almost frightening. But Marcy wanted him so much, needed him so much, that she didn't care. So she lay back, opened and ready and waiting for him.
Ray stretched out beside her and, although he knew she was ready, he didn't do anything but kiss and caress her until she was so on fire, so hungry for him, that she dug her fingernails into his back and almost sobbed with desire.
Then she felt him move over her, felt him seek her and she used her hands to unite them, reaching exploding worlds almost before he was completely secured. On and on they went once he started, with climaxes coming frequently for Marcy, until Ray was too exhausted to continue.
And then Marcy stuffed one of her breasts in his mouth and made him kiss and caress her until he recuperated.
It was hours before they went to sleep. And when they woke up the next afternoon, Marcy still wanted him. Ray was amazed.
"You're insatiable," he said as he took her.
"Is that bad?" Marcy grinned at him as her lips churned lazily under his.
"I'm not complaining," Ray answered. "But you could be earning a fortune at the same time."
"Oh no ... I'm not taking any calls. There's too much risk."
"Who's talking about taking calls."
"What are you talking about then."
"Movies."
CHAPTER FOUR
Marcy looked at Ray blankly, so he went on: "Stag films! Not the cheap kind, but the expensive ones." Marcy still didn't know what he was talking about, so he explained. "These are the stag films you've got to be almost a millionaire to afford. Full color, sound, a plot. Just like a Hollywood production. Except these movies are about sex. Every kind of sex you can think of."
"No thanks. I don't want to take a chance on getting caught in something like that."
"No sweat. The cops are paid off. And you'd only be used once or twice. The people who make these movies don't want their customers to keep seeing the same faces. And, you could dye your hair. They're hunting for a sexy brunette right now. With a different hair color and style, not even your folks would recognize you.
"And they pay $2,500!"
Marcy gasped. Why, she thought, that'll be enough to live and go to school on for another six months at least. "Would you be in the movie?" she asked.
"I could be, probably. So far all I've done is recruit girls for the outfit."
"Who else? And what would go on?"
"Another couple. And you'd make love to everybody. I don't know what the plot would be. But the other couple would be spade."
Marcy thought of all the stories she'd heard in Florida about how Negroes were supposed to be better endowed, more potent and more sensual than other people. Then Ray's mouth and hands began to excite her and she whispered that she was willing as she tugged him over her hungry body and fitted him to her churning hips.
It took Ray three days to set things up and then
Marcy had a couple of days to study the script. The plot wasn't much: The two couples were in an apartment playing strip-poker and talking about sex, with flashbacks to show them doing the things they talked about.
These flashbacks were shot first and Marcy was a little nervous when the first scene was shot, despite Ray's telling her it would be easy the night before in bed. His words were still with her but she was still acutely aware of the lights and the camera and people in the background of the set, a deserted road and a car.
But then, following the script, Ray reached over, kissed her and started fondling her breast, putting her in the mood to be loved. A few minutes later he had her blouse opened and was parting her bra. Marcy struggled, trying to stop him; which was according to the script. Also according to the script she didn't struggle too hard, and in a minute, he had the hook undone and his hands were on her naked flesh, caressing her skillfully.
Then he slipped one shoulder-strap down, baring her breast and its puckered nipple. Hesitantly he lowered his head and took the bit of flesh into his lips and Marcy squirmed so that her skirt fell back, revealing the tight bulge in her black panties.
Ray and Marcy did what came naturally from there on, although acted as if she were still a virgin, used only to a little petting and not too much of that.
But gradually things got to the point where her panties were down around her knees and Ray was handling her freely. Then they got to the point where she was handling him in a very tentative manner.
"Let's get in the back seat, honey," he said.
"I'm scared, Billy," she replied, using the name he had in the movie.
"It's all right," he replied. "We are going to get married; aren't we?"
"Yes!"
"Then why won't you?"
Marcy pulled away from him and looked deep into his eyes, then nodded. "All right, I will." She got out of the car and opened the backdoor, then stopped. "Should I ... I mean, do you want me to undress." Ray nodded and she stripped rapidly, but with a suggestion of shyness.
Then, with her hands shielding her secret flesh, she lay down on the seat. In a minute Ray was lying beside her, moving her hands so that the camera feast on her body in its entirety.
They petted some more and then Ray rolled between her thighs and thrust himself into her. As she'd been told to do, Marcy cried out and contorted her face into an expression that made it look as if she were experiencing pain. Her nails raked at Ray's back and she fought him until suddenly she grabbed his head and kissed him deeply. At this point she started bucking her hips under him and acted as if she were going out of her mind with pleasure. Only she wasn't acting. Not at all.
There were three other flashback scenes that Ray and Marcy did; and, while Marcy had to admit that under normal conditions she would have enjoyed making love to Ray in the ways she did, she was still a little nervous about the presence of three spectators and the equipment that recorded her actions.
No one complained about her performance though and she grew used to the others being there. And when she saw the printed film she had to admit that with an upsweep hairdo and a darker rinse, she really did look different. She decided that the sting of the ammonia in the color change had been worth it.
Then came the night when they shot the party scene. Despite Ray's admonishment for her to be completely sober, Marcy took three stiff drinks of vodka before he picked her up and she had lost most of her nervousness with them.
The first part of the evening went smoothly. Marcy was used to the setup now and the conversation, combined with the drinks she'd taken and her thoughts of what was going to happen, calmed her fears of the equipment and made her look forward to the real business of the scene.
She lost her clothes first, according to the script and walked over to the bar, where she poured herself a shot of the tea that was used for whiskey in the movies.
Jean, the ebony colored Negress, stood up and peeled off her white panties. Marcy had to admit that that was a smart piece of business: She had been given an outfit that was black from the skin out, while Jean had been similarly attired in white. The clothes had made nice contrasts with their skin.
Now Jean was as nude as Marcy was. Marcy steeled herself for what she was about to do and said, "All this talking about sex has made me horny."
Jean ran her eyes over Marcy's body and replied in a soft voice: "Looking at you is making me horny. Why don't we do something about it?"
Marcy took two steps forward and then she and Jean were locked in an embrace and moving sideways to the couch, where Marcy fell over backwards, drawing Jean down on top of her.
To her surprise, Marcy found herself enjoying the kiss she was sharing. There was no harsh grinding of lips to it, merely sweetness that grew incredibly more so as Jean's tongue slipped into her mouth. Eagerly Marcy responded to Jean's kiss, twisting her mouth gently under the other girl's.
Then Jean brought her hands up and closed them over Marcy's breasts and Marcy took Jean's breasts in her hands. The colored girl's breasts were smaller, finer formed than Marcy's but they were still nice and perky. Marcy decided that she liked holding them.
But she didn't hold them long. And neither did Jean hold her breasts long. In a few minutes, they were kissing each other's breasts and Marcy got as much fun from kissing as she did from being kissed. Then Jean shifted and they were each kissing the other's breasts at once.
Once again Jean shifted and now they were kissing each other's belly. And then, slowly, Jean shifted again. Their kissing continued and Marcy felt the familiar fire within her loins leap higher.
But before she was satisfied she felt Jean lifted from her and she looked up to see Gus lowering himself onto her. She swung her legs into the air and received him gladly, churning her hips with increasing speed until she reached her climax.
As soon as that happened, Gus switched places with Ray and Ray carried Marcy to another climax. Then they joined Gus and Jean on the floor and took turns kissing each other to exploding world.
They got wilder and wilder and the film ended with all four of them involved in a writhing mass of enflamed flesh and undeniable passion, rolling around on the floor and screaming for fulfillment.
A week later, when Marcy saw the completed film, she was sorry that she was due at her voice lesson in just twenty minutes. If she hadn't been, she would have suggested that the four of them go through a repeat performance for their own pleasure, because the film excited her.
Marcy Lennox wasn't the only one who was excited by the movie. The head of the rackets in New York, a man who had been Guiseppi Felini, but who was now called Joseph Fell, saw the latest product of the movie part of his syndicate and was so excited that he made a phone call to Hollywood.
The phone call resulted in Louis Rogers catching the next plane to New York. Louis was the head of Arrow Productions, which, while it wasn't on the level of M-G-M or 20th Century-Fox, was the biggest independent motion picture production company in America.
And Louis Rogers was one of the up and coming young men in the movie industry. He had started in television and won a name for himself; then, with financial help from Joe Fell, he'd turned his attentions and his talents to films, specializing in offbeat films that were artistic and financial successes. He became known as the man who couldn't make a flop.
Louis Rogers had gotten the money to make movies from Joe Fell; not because Joe liked him in fact, Joe thought he was a ass but because Joe Fell had a daughter he loved very much.
This daughter was plain, and because of this and who her father was, most men left her alone. But not Louis Rogers. He made it a point to meet her. Then, coldly and deliberately, he got her to fall in love with him, which wasn't hard. Coldly and deliberately he seduced her and got her pregnant, which was a little harder, but not much. Then he married her, which was the easy part of the plan.
To his surprise, he fell in love with Gloria Fell. But that was just a bonus to him. He had been marrying Joe Fell's money. And he got it. Joe Fell would deny his daughter nothing; so, when she asked him to loan Louis the money to make movies, he had grumbled but agreed. After all, it was a legitimate business. And Joe liked legitimate businesses.
So Louis had gotten the money he needed to produce and promote his first movie. It was a hit and he became a rich man from it and his subsequent movies; even if he did have to split the profits 50-50 with his father-in-law.
Louis Rogers watched the movie Marcy had made and he got excited too. He got even more excited when Joe told him: "I think you ought to have the brunette,"
Louis didn't know what to say. It would be nice to take the girl to bed; but he didn't think Joe had called him all the way to New York just to give him a playmate.
Then Joe went on, and Louis's spirits dropped a little.
"She photographs well. She's got a good voice. She's got a real sexy build. She could be a big draw. And I think it's time Arrow should have a couple of stars of its own, without having to borrow them all the time."
By the time Joe had finished speaking, Louis's mind had changed gears and he was analyzing the way the girl had been in the film. Even fully clothed she had registered great sex appeal. She could be a star. A big star. Louis fully agreed with Joe on that.
"I'll clear up the details so this film won't get shown then. And I'll take care of the rest of things. You just be here the day after tomorrow to get her name on a contract."
Louis nodded and left and Ray Wilson was shown into the office. Ray was scared almost to death. He was only a small clog in the wheels of
Fell's machine, so why should the big boss want to see him? Fell didn't waste time letting him know he hadn't done anything wrong.
Then Joe asked: "The dark-haired girl in that film ... where'd you find her?"
"In an acting class I attend." Ray explained how Marcy had come to take part in the movie. Fell listened, then handed him a sheaf of bills.
"Have her here at three this afternoon. And forget you ever knew her other than as a classmate." There was just a hint of an order in Fell's voice, but a hint was all Ray needed.
He hurried to the apartment that Marcy lived in, in Greenwich Village and was lucky to find her home since she was usually busy with her dancing class on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. That day, however, it had been canceled. And, since she didn't have anything to do that afternoon, Marcy agreed to go downtown with him.
Promptly at three she was ushered into Joe Fell's office and he wasted no time in getting to the point: "How would you like to make films for Arrow Productions?"
"That'd be fine. Now, what's the joke?"
"No joke. I own half of the outfit. I saw the film you made and I think you could be a big star. Louis Rogers, my son-in-law, he owns the other half; he saw the film and he thinks you could be a big star.
"I'll make sure all the prints of your first movie get destroyed. That'll cost money. But I'll make money on the films you make for Arrow. If you want to work for Arrow."
"Sure. What girl wouldn't."
"Okay. Now, what's the names of the guys you've shacked up with?" Marcy looked surprised and Joe continued, "I don't give a damn about your morals; I just don't want any scandal about you. Wilson won't talk, the rest of the people connected with the film won't talk. I don't want any of your boy friends to talk."
"They won't."
"I'm gonna make sure."
"You don't have to worry about them. They'd get in trouble if they talked." It was Fell's turn to look perplexed and Marcy went on: "See, Mr. Fell, everybody thinks I'm 19 or 20, but I just turned 17."
Joe Fell blanched. He'd been planning on seeing if Marcy was as good as she had appeared to be in the film.
"Don't worry," she said, smiling provocatively. "Nobody here knows my age but you. And, nobody in my hometown knows where I am.
"So I can sign a contract and go to work without any trouble. And I want to sign a contract with an outfit like Arrow Productions." Her hands moved to her throat and she slipped a button from the button hole. "I'll be real nice to whoever signed me to a contract like that."
Joe Fell sat and watched while Marcy worked the buttons and then parted her blouse, revealing the wispy black bra which barely contained her swelling breasts. Slowly, tantalizingly, Marcy slid the blouse off of her shoulders and draped it over a chair.
With a strained gasp, Joe rose and moved to the door, throwing the catch so they couldn't be interrupted. When he turned back to Marcy, her skirt and halfslip were gone and she was peeling one of her stockings off.
Joe sucked in his breath at the flawlessness of her body and started stripping. Then Marcy had both stockings off and reached for the hooks of
"Leave it," Joe barked, "I'll take the rest off."
Marcy smiled at him and stretched out on the her bra. couch, with one knee raised provocatively. Joe finished undressing and moved to her, taking her in his arms and kissing her wetly. As his weight came to rest on her, Marcy wrapped her arms around him and thought to herself that this would probably be another session such as she had with John Fisher. But she would make Joe think he was the greatest thing she'd ever had, so he would be sure to sign her to a contract with Arrow.
His kiss was sloppy but Marcy still twisted her mouth against his, simulating passion. Then he squeezed her breasts for a moment and removed her bra, gasping when he saw her naked breasts.
"Holy smokes," he breathed through clenched teeth. Then his face was buried between them and his hands were shoving her panties down her hips.
Marcy slipped a hand between them and tested his passion. And then he was pushing between her thighs and molding his body to hers; sucking at her breasts as his hips moved in and out against her.
"Ahhh! Ahhh! Ahhhh!" Marcy whimpered, clawing at his back as he bit lightly at her nipples and dug his fingers into her hips. "Ahhh! Ahhh! Ahhhhhh!"
She gave a sudden shiver and wrapped her legs around Joe's waist as she felt him stiffen and drain himself into her body. Oh, Christ, she thought, let me be safe; I wouldn't want a baby by him.
Fell started to pull away from her, but she held him tight. "Don't go," she whispered, "I want to hold you for a while."
"Was I that good?" he asked in wonder and amazement.
"You were wonderful," Marcy lied.
Slowly they pulled away from each other and reached for their clothes, dressing shyly, as if embarrassed by their actions.
"You can have the rest of today and tomorrow to straighten out your affairs. But be here at 9 Thursday morning, ready to travel. You'll leave for the coast as soon as you put your name on a contract and pose for a few publicity shots."
"But, what about my books and things? And I've got three months on my lease."
"Take a couple of outfits, enough to get by on for a day or two. We'll provide you with a suitable wardrobe when you get to California.
"Put the books and things you want in a pile and I'll have someone see that they're shipped to you when you get settled out there. As for the lease, we'll reimburse you."
He gave her a curt nod of dismissal and turned his attention to the stack of papers on his desk.
By six o'clock the next evening, Marcy had withdrawn from her classes, given away the possessions she didn't want to keep and done all the odds and ends connected with moving.
Tomorrow, she thought, tomorrow I go to Hollywood. I'm going to be a movie star. She suddenly decided she should celebrate. But what to do?
Go to one of the bars or coffeehouses she frequented and drink? Get one of the boys she knew to take her out and then sleep with him? Suddenly she knew the answer. She knew how she wanted to celebrate. She just hoped that she could do it the way she wanted.
It took Marcy two hours and twelve bars before she could find out. But finally she saw Jean sitting between two other girls at a bar. She walked in and took a table and smiled at Jean.
Slowly the colored girl slipped off of her stool and walked to the table where Marcy sat. "What are you doing here, girl? This is not your type of place?"
"No," Marcy replied. "But it's yours, isn't it?"
"Sometimes. Sometimes Jean's one thing and sometimes she's another. Tonight she's this!" The Negress indicated the girls in the bar with a wave of her hand. There were a lot of girls in the bar. There were only girls in the bar. It was a lesbian bar.
"But you haven't answered my question, girl. What are you doing here? What are you hunting for?"
"You. I'm hunting for you. Tonight I want to be this too. With you that is; only with you."
"Then what are we waiting for?" Jean took Marcy's elbow and led her into the street, then down the block and up a flight of stairs. Then they were in Jean's apartment.
Slowly Jean sat her on the bed and sat beside her. Slowly Jean kissed her. It was different than anything Marcy had ever had happen to her.
She liked the way Jean's tongue curled around in her mouth, like a lash of honey that filled her with sweetness and peace. She liked it very much.
Then Jean lowered her to the bed and placed one hand on her breast. Jean's hand wasn't heavy like a man's; it didn't squeeze like a man's. Instead it was a soft as a rain falling and it made Marcy's breasts swell up slowly, very slowly, until Marcy was sure they had never been so taut or ached with want so much.
Calmly Jean unbuttoned her blouse and undid the hook on her bra. Then Marcy's breasts were bare and Jean's mouth covered them with kisses, her tongue a velvet lash across them that made Marcy toss on the bed and whine with delight and impatience.
She clutched at Jean's head, then Jean was stroking her leg and Marcy felt the passion fires in her burn higher.
But it was a different kind of passion than she had known with a man; any man. Jean built her up and up and up until it seemed to Marcy that every cell of her body was soaked with sex and still she wanted more.
Then Jean unhooked and unzipped her skirt and drew it off. As she did so, Marcy sat up and hurriedly got rid of her blouse and bra; so that when Jean stretched out beside her again, all she wore was her panties.
And Jean peeled these tenderly off and started stroking the base of Marcy's abdomen until Marcy gasped and shuddered under Jean's knowing touch. And, while she was still riding the crest of the wave, Jean's hips left hers and moved down her body, kissing her breasts and going lower, kissing her belly and going lower.
Jean slipped her hands under Marcy's body, cupped her hands hard under Marcy's buttocks, lifting her to the wet fire and Marcy dug her fingers into the sheet and suffered the most intense ecstasy that she had ever known as Jean tortured her with adoration of her body.
Marcy's body heaved and shuddered as if consumed by fire, rocked as if there were bombs exploding in her loins and she threw back her head and uttered incoherencies as Jean nuzzled at her and slashed at her with her tongue.
And then Marcy could stand being the inactive one no longer and she dragged Jean over her and rolled until the other girl was pinned beneath her on the bed. Marcy's lips mashed upon Jean's and her tongue darted eagerly between Jean's lips as she pushed up the sweater the girl wore and wrenched at the fasteners on Jean's bra.
Jean's breasts were already hard and Marcy made them harder with her caresses, until Jean was panting as Marcy had panted. But Marcy delayed, as Jean had done, working her fingers over the resilient flesh until Jean was unable to lie still.
Only then did Marcy drop her mouth to encase one of Jean's nipples within her mouth. like a child getting its mother's milk, Marcy sucked greedily while the other girl tried to get her slacks off.
However, Marcy wasn't going to let Jean off easily. She held her hands above her head and kissed both breasts for almost half-an-hour before she finished revealing Jean's body.
Marcy wasn't as practiced at what came next as Jean was, but she did the best she could and it must have been satisfactory because Jean didn't complain a bit about Marcy's ministrations.
They slept in each other's arms for a few hours and then woke up and made love to each other the way they had done in the movie and the thrill was even greater than Marcy had remembered.
She knew she wouldn't want sex this way all the time; but she had wanted it this way this night. So she had had it. And she had it some more. She had it over and over again until there wasn't time to have it any more.
Reluctantly, Marcy left the bed and showered, then returned to dress. Jean watched her from the bed and, as Marcy was buttoning her blouse, asked: "You coming back tonight, honey?"
Marcy walked over to the bed, dropped to her knees, leaned over and kissed Jean's nipple for an instant before she said: "I can't. I'm leaving for Hollywood this morning."
"Craaaazy! If I ever get out there, I may look you up."
"Do that," Marcy called over her shoulder as she went out the door.
CHAPTER FIVE
Either Jean never got to Hollywood or she forgot the invitation Marcy had extended, because Marcy never saw her again after that last look at her naked body gleaming with sweat as she lay sprawled on her bed and watched Marcy start on her road to stardom.
Not that it mattered; Marcy was awfully busy in Hollywood.
She arrived just in time to test for a role in the next picture Arrow was shooting, and she impressed the director so much that she was given a supporting role, with second billing.
Then began a round of posing for publicity shots, interviews and participation on various television shows, all designed to give her exposure to the public.
And, making a movie was hard work Marcy discovered, much harder than she had expected it to be. To begin with, they would shoot the same scene over and over until Marcy was sure she could do it subconsciously.
As if that wasn't enough, when she wasn't before the cameras, she was in class, learning more about acting, dancing and singing. Then, she had to learn her lines for the next days filming; and she was dating almost every night with young male hopefuls or established bachelors who liked to be seen with new faces.
As soon as her first film was completed, Marcy started doing television roles, playing a nurse on one show, a dance hall girl in another, a coed in a couple, a woman in the service, a female police officer, a sociologist and an alcoholic. And these roles followed in such rapid succession that Marcy often wondered to herself what she really was.
And all the while, the publicity department at Arrow was giving her a buildup as the new sex symbol of America, making her the girl that men dreamed about, that they longed for, that they compared their girl friends and wives to, and found them lacking.
Then her film was released and she was so well received by the critics that her next movie was a co-staring venture with one of the top new male stars in Hollywood.
When that film was released, Marcy Lennox became a household name, a name equalized with sex. Suddenly there was a ghostwritten column on how to get a man and keep him appearing under her name; there were Marcy Lennox bras and panties and nightwear, as well as Marcy Lennox sportswear. She said she used a certain brand of soap and sales of it soared as thousands of girls assumed it would help them become as good-looking as she was.
She was well on her way to being established as a major star, but Louis Rogers wasn't satisfied. He decided that she needed more diversified appeal, so she made a record. To her surprise, it sold almost a million copies. And her next record, the title song to her third movie, in which she was the only star, sold a million-and-a-half copies, and became number one on the hit parade.
She got letters from all over the world, letters that asked her to help people solve the problems of their love lives, letters that asked her for money, or a date, even letters proposing marriage. And she got a letter from Palmville, Florida. A letter from Donny Jones.
He told her all that had happened since she'd left. Her father had been run over by a truck while drunk one night. John Fisher had fallen off the deck of his houseboat and drowned. Chad Brown had gotten shot for fooling around with a cracker girl after he and Marylou got married and Judge Kramer had had a heart attack while spanking a thirteen year old girl and his death had caused a big scandal. And Donny loved her.
But Marcy didn't have time for love; at least not the hearts-and-flowers romantic kind of love. Oh, she was involved in a dozen or more romances; but they were all dreamed up by the publicity men at Arrow Productions and fed to the gossip columns to keep her name in the news some of the men were absolute strangers to Marcy when she first went out with them and, after a week of making the rounds with them, they would disappear from her life as suddenly as they had appeared in it.
Because, as the leading contender for the crown of the top sex symbol in America, it would have been unthinkable for Marcy not to have been involved with someone. So she was reported to be dating other young stars who needed publicity, or perpetual bachelors who liked being seen with beautiful girls, or with her coworkers, to boost the attraction of the shows she did.
But, for the first six months she was in Hollywood, Marcy lived as chaste a life as she had in New York before Ray Wilson came into her life.
For one thing, when she wasn't working in front of the cameras, she was posing for publicity shots or picture stories in the fan magazines, giving interviews, taking acting, dancing or singing lessons, making records or doing something to further her career; and all of this tired her out, so that when she went out on her publicity dates, it was often all she could do to keep from yawning openly.
And, since many of her early dates were with young men in the same circumstances, they were often as tired as she was and, like her, interested in being seen in the places they were supposed to be seen, then going home to get some much needed sleep, since they were often required to get up at five or six the next morning to begin again.
But gradually Marcy got used to the hectic pace of her life and the terror of loneliness that had haunted her in New York began to return. Only here, in Hollywood, she wasn't able to drive away the loneliness by going out to one of the local places.
In the first place, she wasn't allowed to go to the coffeehouses and, when she did manage to slip down to them once in a while, she discovered that she was no longer a part of that world, the world of struggling young dreamers. She was now a success and the things she'd had in common with the coffeehouse crowd were gone.
And, when she was on a date, the man she was with was usually more interested in her as an aid to his career than he was in her as a person and Marcy found the loneliness growing in her every day.
However, since she had gotten used to getting by on just a few hours sleep a night, and since she was no longer required to make as many publicity appearances in various night clubs, Marcy discovered a way to banish the loneliness temporarily at least; and that was to go to bed with someone and lose herself in the mindless thrills afforded her by her body and the touch of an adoring lover upon it.
Of course she had to be circumspect about her affairs, but she was usually able to take someone to bed with her when the loneliness got to be too great to stand any longer and she was usually able to do it so discreetly that Louis Rogers and the other officials at Arrow Productions never found out that their big star was spending more and more of her time at night flat on her back under a lover.
And these sessions weren't always restricted to sharing sex with a man either. A couple of times Marcy had succumbed to the wiles of another girl, either one who was purely a Lesbian or one who was just interested in expanding the range of experiences she'd been through in order to understand herself better, or because she was tired of men and wanted sex without the frantic haste that came from mating in the backseats of cars, which was where Marcy and most other starlets had had to carry on their affairs until they were established enough to have an apartment of their own where they were not under constant scrutiny of neighbors or studio officials.
Marcy had spent more than one evening with one foot on the window ledge and one on the floor of a car before she had graduated to a secure enough position that she could afford to spend the night with a man at his apartment or allow him to spend the night at hers.
But, despite the increasing number of men who were granted the pleasure of getting into bed with her; and the fact that several of these became repeaters, people who Marcy slept with on a more-or-less regular basis; she never lived with anybody during her first nine months that she was in Hollywood, not even for a few days, although there were a couple of times when she slept with the same man for several nights in a row. At those times, she usually went home and changed, then slipped out to visit the man at his place or had him sneak back after supposedly going home.
However, just before she started her third film, Marcy had a cold and spent three days in bed alone. When she was well again, she decided that she was tired of the hustle of nightclub life, that she wanted to spend a quiet evening by herself for a change, something she rarely had, even by choice, and so she dressed in a blouse and Capris, hopped into her new car a present from Louis on the day her record sold its millionth copy and headed out to the suburbs and a drive-in restaurant.
As she sat in the car, nibbling on a hamburger and sipping a milkshake, she watched a group of teenagers who were lounging in front of the outdoor jukebox.
One of these kids in particular attracted her attention-a skinny, young girl, without visible breasts or buttocks, who wore her hair short and held her cigarette in her mouth like a man would. The only thing that showed her femininity was the skirt she wore.
While the other girls were flirting with the boys in the group, or dancing, this girl slouched against a wall and seemed to be watching her companions with disdain; when she wasn't gazing at the people in the cars parked around the restaurant.
Marcy left the car to visit the ladies room and was aware that the girl's eyes followed her as she walked across the lot. She's probably jealous, Marcy thought. Probably doesn't have much of a social life. It's a shame, as cute as she is, if she had breasts the boys would undoubtedly be drooling after her.
When Marcy came out, she found the girl standing beside the door. "Would you like to take me home tonight?" she asked, making Marcy almost step back in surprise. "We can have a lot of fun," the girl added.
Marcy looked at the girl and saw that she wasn't kidding; then had to ask herself whether she wanted to take her up on her offer. Why shouldn't I?, she asked herself. I'm living a different type of life tonight; so why shouldn't I have a different type of bed partner? "Okay," she answered.
"Wait about five minutes, then drive down the highway and turn right at the spotlight, I'll be waiting behind the store there."
Marcy nodded and went back to her car, signaling with her lights for the carhop. And when her coffee came, she found that her hands were trembling as she picked up the cup. My God, she thought, when have I wanted somebody this much? It's fantastic.
As she had promised, the girl was waiting for Marcy and she hopped into the car as soon as it stopped, immediately wrapping her arms around Marcy's neck and kissing her avidly, despite a streetlight shining into the convertible.
They pulled apart finally and the girl dropped her hand to Marcy's thigh and squeezed. "Let's hurry, hon," she whispered. "The sooner we get to your place, the sooner we can get to bed."
Marcy was as infected with rising passion as the girl seemed to be and she drove faster than normal as they headed for her apartment.
Then they were inside and the girl wrapped her arms around Marcy and kissed her frantically, working her tongue into Marcy's mouth as expertly as the middle-aged star, who'd been married five times and was hunting for his sixth, had done the night before.
"I'm so glad you like me," the girl said, when they pulled away. Then, shyly, she laid her head on Marcy's breast and asked: "You do like me, don't you?"
"Would you be here if I didn't?" Marcy didn't want to say that she didn't know the girl well enough to like, or dislike, her; but she sensed that the girl was looking more for affection than sex and she didn't want to hurt her.
Once again the girl reached up to pull Marcy's head down for a kiss, but this time Marcy stopped her. "I really ought to know who I'm kissing."
"I'm Frankie," the black-haired girl told her. Then Marcy introduced herself.
"Do you want to make a big production out of this, or shall we go right to bed?" Frankie asked. When Marcy shrugged, she reached for the hem of her blouse and pulled it over her head, revealing a chest that was almost boyish, with only tiny buds of flesh behind her nipples to assert her femininity. A second later she had pushed off her skirt and panties and was reaching for the buttons on Marcy's blouse.
Then she had Marcy's blouse opened and was digging one of her breasts out of the bra, seizing the nipple between her lips as soon as the breast was exposed. As Frankie kissed her, Marcy finished taking the blouse and bra off.
Frankie pulled back and stared in envy at Marcy's breasts. "Wowee," she breathed, "Am I ever gonna have fun with them."
"Okay," Marcy grinned, "But, in bed. Let's not get started here and have to use the floor." Frankie was all for that.
She sat on the edge of the bed while Marcy wiggled out of her Capris and panties. "How old are you, Frankie?" Marcy asked as she hung her clothes in the closet.
"Almost 16," came the reply softly. "But don't worry. I know what to do. I've been shacking up with women for three years."
Marcy chuckled. "If I didn't think you knew what to do, I knew I could teach you." Letting her walk become deliberately provocative, she moved to the bed.
Then Frankie's arms were around her waist, the girl's hands were busy stroking her buttocks and Frankie's face was buried in the junction of her thighs. And Marcy learned that Frankie had been an expert student.
Within minutes Marcy's knees were turning weak and Frankie was leaning backwards, then rolling until she was on top of Marcy, still kissing happily as Marcy ran her hands through her hair and tugged at her earlobes.
Frankie stayed there for almost an hour and then she lay on top of Marcy's body and pressed against Marcy's aching flesh, duplicating the movement a man would have made until Marcy was beside herself with the thrill of it all.
"Wowee," Frankie breathed, as she finally rolled away from Marcy and drew air deep into her lungs. "You're even better than I expected you to be. In fact, you're the best I ever had; and I've had some good ones.
"How did you know I was willing to go to bed with women?" Marcy asked.
"I didn't." When Frankie saw the look of bewilderment on Marcy's face, she chuckled. "I just ask all the women who interest me and hope one of them will feel the same way.
"Sometimes I get turned down all evening, other times I get a dud, once in a while I get a swinger; but never one like you."
Marcy rolled over and kissed Frankie lightly on the lips, then kissed the younger girl harder, dipping her tongue between Frankie's lips and twisting her mouth upon the other girl's.
Slowly she ran her hands over Frankie's body, discovering that her tiny breasts were rock-hard and that the nipples had swelled to incredible lengths.
Then Marcy ended the union of their lips and dropped her head to lick at Frankie's swollen breasts while she stroked the other girl's thigh.
"Ummm," Frankie murmured when Marcy touched her for the first time. Then she murmured again as Marcy grew bolder with her hand. And when Marcy slid her lips over her body and started kissing her intimately, Frankie arched her head back and moaned in delight until she underwent a sharp spasm of orgasm and dragged Marcy over her.
"Oh, God," Frankie breathed when she was relaxed again. "No one ever thought enough of me to do it for me before. Some of the bitches who've taken me home haven't even had the guts to use their hands on me."
"Have there been many women in your life?" Marcy asked as she cradled Frankie's head against her breasts and stroked the girl's back in a gentle motion.
"It depends on how you mean. There've been a hell of a lot that've gone to bed with me, sometimes five a week; but there haven't been many who've meant anything to me really. Most of them were just for a night.
"And of the ones who I had longer affairs with, there've only been about four that I really wanted to keep things going with. The others I saw again because they asked me to see them and it was just as easy to make a date with them as it was to try to get picked up."
"Doesn't your mother wonder where you are?" Marcy asked.
"She doesn't give a damn. In fact, she's happier when I'm not around; then she can bring men home and they don't realize that she's old enough to have a 16 year old daughter."
Suddenly Frankie forced Marcy onto her back and kissed her desperately, starting the sexual rhythm against Marcy.
"Do you have to be so rough," Marcy gasped when Frankie finally released her lips and dropped her head to seize one of her nipples.
"No," Frankie replied. "But if I hurry like this, we can make it more times than we could it I went easy. And I want to make it as many times with you as I can. Then, when I get some of those bitches who only want me to make them happy and don't give a damn about me; I'll have something good to remember."
And suddenly, as the world started exploding for Marcy, she had an idea that filled her with anticipation and satisfaction. She felt so sorry for little Frankie, drifting unhappily from one affair to another, that she wanted to do something for her.
Frankie was arching closer to her now, shivering and gasping as worlds exploded for her and Marcy cupped her immature buttocks and held her tightly to her heaving body.
"Ohhh, ohhh," Frankie whispered. "Oh, God, I love you."
"Do you?" Marcy asked tenderly.
"I ... I wish I never had to leave you; that I could be your slave. I'd make love to you any time, any way, you wanted me to."
"And are you sure your mother doesn't care what you do?"
"The bitch has told me she'd be happy if I ran away from home or got killed or something. She hates my guts."
"Would you like to move in with me? There's a porch off of the living room, I could get a convertible couch and put up screens so you could have privacy."
"And nobody would know we weren't just roommates, rather than lovers! That'd be cool. I'll get a job; I'll be old enough in three weeks and I was going to quit school anyway."
"There's no need for you to go to work. I'm earning enough to cover all the bills.
"But there's one thing you should know. I like going to bed with men, too. If you stay long enough, I may start going to bed with them again; if only for self preservation I couldn't afford to be talked about."
"Who'd talk? There's a couple of dozen big stars who go both ways. And maybe a dozen who prefer girls to men." Frankie started naming names, some of whom Marcy had heard mentioned as lesbians; others who she was sure were completely heterosexual and couldn't picture in bed with a woman at all. Frankie read her disbelief at one name and grinned: "That's a shock, isn't it?
"But, I can prove it; I've got a picture of us in bed together."
"Would you take pictures of me in bed with you?" Marcy asked, with a little apprehension in her voice.
"I didn't take that one," Frankie replied. "She did. She gets a kick out of doing things like that."
They lay side by side, with their arms around each other, and once in a while they would kiss lightly.
"Do you really mean it, about my moving in?" Frankie asked and when Marcy nodded, the other girl sat up with a big smile on her face. "Imagine me living with somebody as great as you are. I never thought I'd be so lucky." Then she turned serious.
"Do you really like going to bed with men? I mean, do you get a thrill out of one of them doing things to you?"
"Haven't you ever had any fun with a man?" Marcy replied.
"I've never had anything with a man; not even a kiss. Once, when I was younger, and had just been brought out by a woman, I was still trying to make up my mind whether I was a lesbian or not and I decided to try sex with a male to see if I liked it.
"So I went up to this boy at school that I thought was good-looking and asked him if he'd take me out and lay me. But he just looked at me and said, 'No. It'd be too much like going to bed with another boy.' Since then I haven't bothered trying to get a boy to do anything with me.
"Why should I actually, I get enough from women. Even the duds are good for a mild kick. And when I get a woman who'll do more than just lay there, it's heaven. Only I never knew how much heaven it was until I met you."
Marcy put her hand on Frankie's thigh and stroked it lightly. "Thank you. I'm glad that I make you happy."
"You have me delirious," Frankie replied, shifting so that Marcy could reach her easier. Then she brightened as a sudden thought hit her. "Did you ever do it to a girl while she was doing it to you?"
Marcy nodded, then moved on the bed until she was stretched out full length. "If you want it that way, turn around. Otherwise, lie down and let me have you."
Frankie shook her head delightedly. "I can't believe it. I've never had anyone but real bull-dykes want to do me. Most of the time, when I'm with someone as feminine as you, they're reluctant to do it mutually unless they've been drinking."
"I've found out that if you care about your partner, you want them to get all you can give them. And if you don't care about them, it's usually not worth going to bed with them at all." Marcy thought of how disappointed she'd been with John Fischer, who she had disliked, or with Joe Fell, who had scared her. She'd been too inexperienced with the Judge to really know if it was good or not and the strangeness of his taste had been what had excited her, not his performance; just as it had been with Baldwin.
Now she wiggled impatiently as Frankie swung her body over her and stayed there, on her hands and knees, looking at the perfection of Marcy's body. "Ummmm," Frankie murmured. "I get hot just looking at you."
Marcy let her look for a minute or two more, until the waiting was no longer bearable. Then she reached up and clasped her hands around Frankie's buttocks, drawing the girl's body to her hungry mouth. With a shrill cry, Frankie dropped to match Marcy's action and to give thrills as great as she was receiving.
Hours later, when they finally got to sleep, Marcy was sure that she'd never had such a good time in bed. And the way that Frankie swarmed over her the next day only reinforced the idea. The two of them didn't get out of bed until 4:30 and then only to go to Frankie's for her clothes and to a drive-in for food. And they were back in bed by 6:30; their bodies throbbing under the other's eager hands and lips.
The affair continued with the same intensity for two weeks, interrupted only by Marcy's having to go to work or do something in connection with her career.
But finally she felt a longing for the solid fire of penetration by a male and she readily accepted a date when one of her friends called her.
"Frankie, I'm going to bring a man home tonight," she said. "I don't know whether or not he'll stay until morning. But, if he doesn't, and I don't come to you; will you stay in your bed?"
Since Frankie was indisposed at the time, she agreed and even kissed Marcy to show she didn't mind.
But, when Marcy and Roy Leeds, one of her best friends and the photographer she liked best to shoot pictures of her, entered the darkened apartment at 12:45, the sound of a rock'n'roll record was coming from the porch room where Frankie was lying in bed. And the small red glow of a cigarette in the darkness testified to the fact that she was still awake.
"When did you get a roommate?" Roy asked when he and Marcy were in her bedroom, with the door shut.
"About two weeks ago," Marcy replied as she slipped her dress over her head. Then, as she sat on the bed and took off her stockings and bra, she told Roy about the relationship between her and Frankie.
"And this chick's never been with a man at all?" Roy asked as Marcy finished undressing by peeling her panties off.
"No, she's never been so much as kissed by a man," Marcy replied. Then she was dropping into Roy's lap and kissing him hotly, with her hands on the side of his head and her breasts pressing into him with abandonment.
Roy's fingers closed around the great globes of her breasts and squeezed until Marcy jerked with pleasure and pain combined. "Ohhh, Roy," she breathed into his ear, "it's been so long since I had a man."
"It's going to be a little longer," Roy replied. "I don't like to rush with a girl like you."
But he dropped his mouth to Marcy's breasts and attacked them eagerly while his hands wandered lower on her body, discovering anew the crevices and curves of her thigh and buttocks and the sensitive places on her body that turned her into a whirldwind of passion in a matter of minutes.
"Hurry, Roy," Marcy urged, rolling onto her back and throwing her legs into the air and attempting to drag him over her. "Please, hurry, Roy, hurry."
Roy didn't delay then, but swung happily to work, making her utter deep sighs from the bottom of her throat.
And suddenly she arched up and stiffened as the explosion hit her and bright streaks of color flashed through her brain. And still Roy continued to move over her until he was incapable of further movement.
Roy collapsed on her sweaty breasts and went to sleep almost immediately. And Marcy was asleep a moment later; but not before she heard the soft pad of bare feet as Frankie retreated from the door, where she had been watching them.
CHAPTER SIX
The next morning, after Roy had left, Marcy entered the porch room where Frankie was sleeping and kissed her awake. "Hi," the girl yawned, stretching.
"Why were you watching last night?" Marcy asked softly, then quickly added, "I'm not mad that you did; I'm just curious as to why."
"Who knows," Frankie shrugged, "I might put out for a guy sometime and I figured if I watched, I could see if there were any special tricks I should know. But it's just like making it with a butch."
"Not really," Marcy replied. "Oh, the actions and the procedure is the same, but there's something a man can give you that a woman can't."
Frankie thought about this, then looked at Marcy's naked body. "I sure wish it was tomorrow," the younger girl said.
"Why?" Marcy asked in amusement.
"Because, if it was, I'd rape you, you look so sexy with no clothes."
"What's wrong with raping me today?"
"I'm having my period. And I'm spoiled now. Before, I wouldn't have cared, I'd have worked you over. But now I want to be fem for at least part of the time. And, since I can't be, I won't be butch either."
"You know something, Frankie?" Marcy said. "I think you'd like being fem for a man. I really do. I'll bet the right man would bring you out so strong you wouldn't want women any more."
"It's possible," Frankie agreed. "But I haven't met that man yet, and I still want women, so please go put something on and stop teasing me."
Marcy leaned over and kissed her, then swung off the bed and went back to her room to dress.
She had another date with Roy that night and they went to his place, since he had to leave early in the morning for Arizona and the only had time for a quickie.
And, as she was dressing after making love, Roy said to her:
"Does your little butch friend work or are you keeping her?"
"She baby sits. She wants to quit school and go to work, but I'm trying to talk her into getting a diploma. Otherwise she'll never be able to be anything but a waitress or some other menial."
"Do you think she'd like a couple of C-notes?"
"Sure. But how would she get them?"
"Well, I know you well enough to know you're a kook. You'll do anything once, right?" Marcy nodded. "So, if what's her name Frankie? is willing, I'll give her $200 if she'll let me watch her make you."
"Sex fiend," Marcy grinned at him. But she thought it was a good idea. If Frankie had that much money, she might agree to not look for a job, but to continue in school.
But, when she mentioned it to Frankie, the girl was indignant. "If he wants to spend another $50, I can find a girl who'll put on a show; but I would degrade what we have by making money at it."
Marcy was touched that she meant that much to Frankie. She'd been wondering if she was staying with her for the easy life she had and the fact she could keep her babysitting money, rather than having to pay rent as she had done at home. Now she knew that there was more than that, more than sex even, involved.
"How much does this guy know about me, anyway?" she asked.
"I told him the whole story," Marcy admitted.
"But Roy's a good guy. He won't spill it to anyone."
"How does he rate in bed, compared to your other men?"
"He's one of the best. He builds me up like you do, until I'm ready to scream almost with wanting him." Frankie had a thoughtful look on her face and her love making that night was barely perfunctory.
Mary couldn't figure out why, for the next few days, Frankie wandered around the apartment in a semi-daze. And then Roy got back into town and called Marcy to inquire about his idea.
"She wasn't interested," Marcy told him and Frankie asked her if she was talking to Roy.
Marcy nodded and Frankie went on: "Tell him I've got a proposal for him. He can watch us if he'll make it a threesome afterwards. And if he'll be tender with me."
Marcy relayed the message and Roy almost yelled. "I'll be over in an hour," he said.
"What brought that on?" Marcy asked when Roy had hung up.
"I just decided that I want to try with a man," Frankie said defensively. "You keep saying I'd like it and I wanted to see if you were right. I'm not trying to steal your lover."
Marcy slipped her arms around the girl's rigid body and kissed her tenderly. "I'm not mad at you, honey. I'm glad you're doing it. And, if you can steal Roy, you're welcome to him.
"In fact, I'll give you a hint about how to get him, if you want him. He-likes for girls to spank him. He's a little ashamed of it, and he usually hides it, but he got higher than usual one night and asked me and I thought he was going to go crazy.
"There he was, making it like mad with me and every time I'd slap his bottom, he'd go that much harder."
"He's good-looking," was all that Frankie said in reply. But a minute later, she asked: "Do you think he'll laugh at me for not having breasts?"
When Roy arrived at the apartment, Marcy opened the door a crack and whispered to him: "Do you want us to be naked to start, or shall we have something on?
"Because, if we have to wear something, you'll have to wait a minute while we get fixed."
Roy grinned. "We're going to end up naked anyway. Why should you get dressed just to undress?"
So Marcy opened the door and let him in. "Frankie's in the bedroom."
Roy ran his hands over her body appreciatively, then followed her into the other room, to where Frankie was resting, as nude as Marcy, on the bed. When Roy and Marcy entered the room, she dropped her hands and shielded herself from Roy's gaze for a minute. Then, with a laugh, she moved them to her sides. "Considering what you're going to do; why shouldn't you get a good look at the merchandise."
"A body that pretty is much too nice to be merely merchandise," Roy answered and Frankie swelled with pride.
Slowly Marcy entered the bed, moving at an angle that didn't hide Frankie's body from Roy's gaze. When he had pulled a chair up to the bed so he could watch in comfort, Marcy lowered her lips to Frankie's and they soon forgot that he was in the room as they excited each other with their hands and lips.
To her surprise, when she forced herself to think, Marcy did not feel any of the hesitancy about making love to Frankie in front of a spectator than she had when she'd made the movie in New York. Of course, she was now used to necking in front of a crowd and the experience wasn't strange to her.
Then Frankie was kneeling between her spread thighs, kissing heatedly at her body and Marcy clutched at the sheet and stopped thinking.
And suddenly she felt Frankie stiffen and she opened her eyes to see Roy on the bed, behind Frankie. From the way he was acting, she knew that Frankie was no longer a virgin and that she was enjoying the way she was being treated.
Then all three of them gasped as they were hit by an explosion and Roy pulled away from Frankie, lifted her and dumped her onto her back, instantly falling onto her? "Woweee!" Frankie squealed but then Marcy stuck one of her breasts into the girl's mouth, preventing further outcries.
Roy moved with increasing speed over Frankie, while he fondled Marcy with one hand and captured her free breast with his mouth. And when he was finished with Frankie, he swung away from her and took Marcy.
Finally they had to pull apart to recover their breath and they lay on the bed with contented smiles on their faces. And when Roy was able to start again, Marcy was surprised that it was Frankie he turned to instead of her.
Only this time, instead of taking Frankie the way he had before, he treated her the way she had treated Marcy and Frankie's eyes rolled back in their sockets and she babbled incoherently as Roy nuzzled at her and kneaded the flesh on her buttocks.
Marcy didn't want to be left out, so she tugged at Roy's hips, shifting him on the bed and applied her lips to his belly. But they only stayed there a minute; then they went racing down to where he wanted her to kiss him and he shivered as she started her expert ministrations.
"Shift a little more, Marcy," Frankie pleaded, grabbing at the blonde's hips and tugging her into a position where she could get. In a second all three of them were tossing fitfully on the bed as they kissed and were kissed.
And when they had reached the heights and descended, Roy had an idea. He stretched out on his back and had Marcy help Frankie into position over his hips.
Then he grabbed Marcy and swung her over his head, pulling her down to his face so he could satisfy them both at once. And, after they had started, Marcy leaned forwards and wrapped her arms around Frankie's neck, pulling the dark-haired girl to her so they could seal their lips together.
But Roy was only human and after a while he was unable to go any longer. Even when Marcy and Frankie recovered and tried to revive him, he lay there with a blissful smile on his face and said: "You'll have to pretend I'm not here and do each other. I've had it for a while."
Marcy and Frankie were disappointed and showed it. And then Frankie hopped out of the bed and crossed the room to Marcy's closet. "I'll fix him," she called and in an instant she was back with a thin belt.
Roy had rolled onto his side and closed his eyes and had no idea what was going to happen until Frankie slapped the leather across his buttocks. With a start he jumped into a kneeling position, with his head flat against the sheets.
"Oh, yes, yes!" he cried. "OOOHHHH! YES-YESYES!"
Frankie struck him again and again, a happy grin appearing on her face as he wiggled delightedly under her punishment. And then he whirled up and caught her, bearing her backwards and coming to rest on top of her, with his mouth closing on hers and his arms around her. Marcy quickly reached to help unite them, but Roy just lay on top of Frankie, kissing her mouth and face until she started urging him onward with a slow roll of her hips.
"Frankie, baby," he whispered, "you're absolutely the greatest."
"Come on, Roy," Frankie replied. "Tell me about it later. Right now, save your breath for showing me."
There was none of the franticness that had infected them in the earlier acts and Marcy, when she looked into their eyes, saw something more than elemental lust there. So, since she had an early call the next morning, she left the bed and went to the porch room where she stretched out on Frankie's bed and went quickly to sleep.
The next morning, when she reentered her room to shower and dress, she was amazed to see Frankie and Roy with their arms locked around each other and their heads touching as they slept. Which was unusual, since both usually tossed and turned so it was impossible to hold them in sleep.
They were still asleep when Marcy was ready to leave and, though she hated to do so, she woke them up.
"Hey, sleeping beauty," she said when Frankie opened one eye to peer at her, "Don't forget you're supposed to sit for Mrs. Jones this morning at 8:30."
"So?" Frankie mumbled sleepily.
"So; it's seven now."
"Then why did you wake us up?" Frankie protested. "Why didn't you just set the alarm for eight and..."
Marcy interrupted her: "You've got an hour to make love in this way."
Frankie obviously hadn't thought of that. She broke into a big grin and sprang to her knees, throwing the sheet back with the impetuousness of her movement. Happily she reached up her arms for Marcy to step into so she could be kissed goodbye.
Marcy pressed her lips tenderly to Frankie's and stroked one of her tiny breasts for a long moment, then stepped away from her.
"Hey," Roy asked; "don't I get a kiss too?" Both of them turned to him and it seemed to Marcy that he made a slight move towards Frankie before putting his hand on the back of her head and putting her down so he could brush his lips over hers.
As she stood in the kitchen sipping a cup of coffee, Marcy could hear the lusty sighs that indicated how aroused Frankie was becoming. And, as she left the apartment, she heard Frankie say throatily: "God, Roy, God; it's sooo good."
So, Marcy wasn't too surprised when she got home and found the apartment empty. But she was a little surprise at the note she found propped against the pillow on, the double bed, where she could not miss it.
Marcy, honey, Roy and I are on our way to Nevada. By the time you read this, we'll probably be man and wife.
Thanks for everything, particularly for introducing us. And feel free to drop in any time for another session like last night, after our honeymoon's over.
Well, we'll, well, Marcy thought. I'll bet that's the fastest conversion from Lesbianism to heterosexuality on record.
Marcy was a little sorry that Frankie wouldn't be around to wake her with a kiss in the morning or to put her to sleep by wearing her out with frantically exciting sex in the evening. She knew she'd miss the other things they shared too, the sitting quietly together in front of the tv, with Frankie's haunches against her loins and the girl's head on her shoulder.
On the other hand, she was glad that Frankie had found a man who would love and care for her, who would introduce her to a world that was infinitely better than that she'd known at home.
And she knew that Roy would make a good husband for Frankie, that his ego would be boosted by his knowledge that, before him, she had been a Lesbian and that he was satisfying her, Then, too, the fact that Frankie was willing to use a belt on him would help. And, if Marcy had read the look on Frankie's face that morning correctly, Frankie was obviously filled with adoration for Roy.
But Marcy was used to having someone around all the time by then, and that night the loneliness was worse than it had ever been. So, the next night, she went to a bar and allowed the first man she saw to pick her up. Then she gave him a workout in bed she was sure he would never forget, making constant demands on him until he was so exhausted he didn't even have the energy to hold her.
And she didn't stop there. After Frankie left there was a constant stream of men and women into her bed. But they were there purely because they could satisfy her, not because she loved them. Frankie was the closest Marcy came to being in love with someone in Hollywood. Until she met Johnny Dane that is.
They met at a party celebrating the completion of her sixth picture. Marcy saw him and it was love at first sight.
Johnny saw her and it was love at first sight.
Love at first sight in this case meaning that they wanted to get to know each other in the Bibical sense of the word.
Then Marcy looked at Johnny just as he was looking at her and each knew how the other felt. So, Johnny rose from the stool he'd been occupying and made his way across the room. As she watched him, Marcy's lips parted unconsciously and her tongue flicked over them.
And then Johnny was standing before her and saying: "Let's cut out for Vegas and get married."
"What? Why? ... You ... I ... we ... we don't even know each other."
"We know all that we need to know. You're the sex queen of America; a modern Aphrodite. And I'm your male counterpart, the twentieth century Eros.
"We deserve each other."
Marcy nodded. Just standing there, not even touching, she could feel the electricity flowing between them, creating more desire within her than she'd ever felt for anyone. She knew he'd be great in bed; able to match her passion until they were both so drained they were limp and exhausted.
"Okay," she said, "so we deserve each other. Why get married?"
"Because it'll be great publicity. Because we'd cause a scandal if we lived together without getting married. And, think what our nights will be like."
Marcy picked up her purse and nodded. "Let's go."
Johnny looked at her in amazement. He'd been halfway kidding when he suggested marriage. But it was a good idea. It was a great idea, in fact. So he took Marcy's arm and they left the party. If anyone paid any attention to their leaving together, they didn't seem to think it was unusual, because no one said anything.
Off they roared into the night and finally there was no traffic on the road. They reached the mountains and began to climb and Marcy sighed. "What's the matter?" Johnny asked.
"This is the first time I've ever been in mountains and I can't see them."
"I've got a friend in Vegas who owns a cabin back in the mountains near Lake Arrowhead. Would you like to spend our honeymoon there?"
Marcy nodded and moved closer to Johnny, nestling her head on his shoulder. "This is crazy, you know," she said. "Here we are, running off to get married; and we've never even kissed."
Johnny braked the car to a stop and turned to her. Instantly she was in his arms, her pouting lips opened and her tongue ready to meet his. Johnny's mouth sank down on hers and his hands moved over her back, roaming from her shoulders to her full haunches. He caught her buttocks in his big hands and squeezed them and Marcy thrust her full breasts harder against him. Already her nipples were standing out firmly with desire and want of each other was rising in each of them.
But Johnny broke the kiss and started the car. As he drove away, he explained: "Now that we have an idea of what it's going to be like, we can think about it, savor the anticipation. And when we do consummate the marriage, the waiting will make it even better."
They managed to get their license and have the ceremony performed without and delay or publicity. Despite their both realizing that the news of their marriage would be headlined, neither Johnny nor Marcy wanted to be bothered by reporters on their honeymoon.
Johnny called his friend and, as he had expected, got permission to use the cabin. "Who is she this time, old buddy?" his friend asked. "Anybody special?"
"Yeah," Johnny laughed. "I guess you could say so. It's my wife Marcy Lennox." His friend hadn't recovered when Johnny hung up.
It was almost noon by then and they killed a couple of more hours over dinner and shopping. Then Johnny took his time driving to the cabin so that Marcy could enjoy the scenery.
Consequently, it was almost dark when they got there; but not dark enough to obscure Marcy's vision. The cabin, she noted, was actually a small house, nestled away among a grove of virgin pines; just above the lake.
Marcy squealed with delight when she saw the blue of the water and Johnny was glad that, while she'd been buying food, he'd gone into the shop next door and bought her a swimsuit, as well as several casual outfits and two filmy, black lace, negligees.
They entered the cabin and he handed her the packages of clothes he'd brought, then went back to get the groceries. It took two trips to carry them in and a fourth to get the clothes he'd brought for himself and when everything was finally inside, he looked at Marcy.
She was still seated on the couch in the tight dress she'd worn to the party the night before. "Aren't you-going for a swim?" he asked.
"Sure! But later. Then I can get nice and fresh for when we make love again." Johnny's breath caught in his throat and he stepped forward and lifted her to her feet.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"I forgot to carry you across the threshold. Do you suppose that carrying you into the bedroom would be an acceptable substitute?"
Marcy leaned against him, pressed her opened mouth to his and tugged at his earlobes as she fed him her tongue. Eagerly Johnny lifted her and carried her to the room where the oversized bed waited for them.
Gently he stretched her out upon it and lay down beside her. Their mouths and tongues worked eagerly and his hands crept up to cover and squeeze her breasts. Then his fingers slipped behind her back and drew the zipper on her dress down to her waist. He parted her bra and tugged the shoestring straps of the dress down her arms.
Marcy sat up and let him remove her bra, and the sight of her large breasts, with their tilttipped nipples already erect was too much for Johnny to stand just looking at. His hands closed over them as his mouth met hers again and he played with her breasts like a little boy who's just received a new toy, as Marcy unbuttoned and removed his shirt, then pressed tightly to him.
Johnny pulled his lips gently from hers and kissed her face, then ran his lips down her neck, over her shoulders, moving lower so slowly that Marcy couldn't stand it. With a sob she caught his head and directed it to her breast.
His hands slipped down her body, moved around her waist and caught the resilient mounds of her buttocks. As his fingers kneaded her flesh, Marcy's hips began a languid motion against him and her hands roamed over his back in increasingly hungry motions.
Johnny sat up abruptly and pushed her skirt and half-slip up to her waist, then, with trembling fingers he unhooked her stockings from her garter belt and rolled them off her legs. And he planted kisses along her thighs as he bared them.
With careful movements he worked the dress over her head and pulled the half-slip off, then picked up the clothes he had removed and carried them to the closet where he hung them up. While he was at it, he took off his own trousers and got out of his shoes and socks, returning to the bed in just his undershorts, which did nothing to hide the result of his necking with Marcy.
Once again they kissed, lying with their arms and legs entwined as their tongues explored the insides of the other's mouth and then Johnny's hands left her back and returned to her breasts, covering them easily but letting the nipples poke between his fingers. And, when he tightened the fingers on each side of her nipples, Marcy arched her back and sobbed deep in her throat.
Slowly Johnny peeled her panties off and Marcy dragged his shorts down his body. And when they were both naked, they rolled apart and propped themselves up on one elbow so they could look at each other.
The flawless beauty of Marcy's body left Johnny speechless and he began to use his hands and lips to show her how he felt about her. He lavished kissed all over her.
"Now," he heard her mutter thickly after several minutes had passed, "now, now, now!" Marcy turned and dragged Johnny over her. As his hands fitted under her buttocks and lifter her, she fumbled to position him and when she succeeded he sank down teasing her with the slowness of his movement.
His tongue and mouth met hers and her hands grabbed his and pulled them up to her breasts, as she swung her legs up and locked them around his waist. They lost themselves in passion.
Finally though, there were no more worlds left to explode for them, and they rested in each other's arms, gulping air into their tired lungs. "You're the greatest," Marcy whispered.
Johnny kissed her and replied, "I love you."
Languidly they rose, stretching and letting their eyes feast on each other's body. Johnny found the sandals he had bought and they slipped into them and went down to the lake without bothering to put on the swim suits.
The water was cold, so cold that it hit Marcy like a slap, but it was just what she needed to revive her. It revived Johnny too. While Marcy had napped during the drive from Hollywood to Las Vegas, he had been without sleep for 30 some hours. But the icy water swept away all the tiredness within him and the sight of Marcy's white body moving about in the lake filled him with desire again.
He swam to her and entwined his body with hers. Their lips met and they sank into the blue water. Finally they had to surface for air and when they did, they raced for shore, slipped on their sandals and sprinted for the house.
Once inside they made straight for the bedroom and sank down on the bed in each other's arms. Marcy pressed herself against Johnny and when he gave her his tongue, in surrender to her demands, it was the sweetest kiss she had ever known.
They slept in each other's arms, too exhausted to even fall away from each other. Johnny did make a feeble effort to withdraw from her but Marcy kept him locked in place and Johnny knew that this was a sign of how well he had satisfied her. Whenever a woman held her lover to her after their love making was over and there was nothing left but his weight pressing upon her, it was a sign that she'd been well loved.
That was the way Johnny and Marcy spent the two weeks they spent in the mountains making love. They did take time out to eat and to swim and once in a while they went for a walk. But the majority of their hours were spent in bed.
They grew to know each other well; grew to know just what would arouse the other to the greatest pitch of excitement. And they told each other about their pasts. All about their pasts. This, they figured, would help them understand each other better and help them adjust to each other.
Marcy was a little hesitant to tell him about Jean or Frankie; but she found out that he didn't care. "Why should I?" he asked. "It was something that made you what you are. And what you are is simply the greatest thing I've ever had."
He was sitting cross-legged on the bed, with Marcy stretched out beside him. As they talked, he absently fondled her breasts.
Marcy had only to look at him to realize that he was aroused by her description of what had transpired between her and Jean or her and Frankie. And, as she went on, she realized that she was becoming aroused by her memories of them.
Then Johnny's hands slid down her body and explored her and she became even more aroused. With the lithe grace her dancing lessons had reinforced in her, she swung up to a sitting position beside him and wrapped her arms about his neck as she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.
Eagerly his tongue shot past her parted lips and teeth and, just as eagerly, she began to suck on it. His hands came up to cup and squeeze her breasts and Marcy knew that, despite the fact that it had only been a half-hour since they had made love, she wanted him again.
Slowly she straightened one leg and held it in the air, while she raised herself on the other. If Johnny wondered what she was doing, he didn't have to wait long to find out; because Marcy pivoted and lowered herself into his lap.
Calmly she sought and found him, then lifted herself a slight amount and inserted him. Then she sank down around him, sinking so slowly that it was almost a torture the way she covered him.
With no sign of effort she rose and fell over him, grating her breasts against his body as his strong arms crushed her to him. And her mouth twisted wantonly against his as she moved.
Then Johnny remembered something he had head about a long time ago; something that he'd always wanted to try and never quite gotten around to doing.
Slowly he wiggled across the bed until his feet were on the floor. Then he stood. Marcy's thighs gripped his hips as he began to walk around. His hands still fondled her breasts, and their tongues went over, under and around each other's.
They made a tour of the house that way and then, as they went past the bed, Marcy leaned backwards until she fell on it, pulling Johnny down on top of her. He braced his feet on the floor and continued to move over her.
Suddenly Marcy wrenched her mouth away from his and screamed long and loudly that he was wonderful. With her screams still reverberating in the room, Johnny pulled away from her and slid down her body, kissing wetly as he went, until Marcy screamed again.
Then Johnny rose, pushed her back until she was completely on the bed and fell onto her trembling body. Once again she felt the welcome thrust of fire as he took her. Her legs rose, almost of their own volition, to lock around his waist and Marcy moved as frantically as he did and they raced to exploding worlds once more.
Marcy had never known that anything could be as peaceful and still as exhilarating as that sojourn in the mountains. But she was still glad when they started making plans to return to Hollywood.
For one thing, she missed the glamour of the town, the night-clubs and shows and the parties. For another thing, she wanted to let everyone know she and Johnny were married.
Marcy wasn't really used to the idea of being married and she would say her new name over and over in the night, getting a child-like delight from the sound of it.
Johnny wasn't exactly used to the idea either. He had gone off for a weekend or a week with girls before and had had almost as much of a ball in bed as the last two weeks had been; but it had always been that he'd take them back to wherever they lived and retire to his bachelor cottage on the beach south of Los Angeles. At the most, he'd had a girl who'd stayed with him for a night or two once in a while.
But now, he had a wife; somebody who'd be around all the time. He wasn't sure he liked the idea; but then he looked at Marcy, clad in bikini panties and a wispy half bra with lace trim at the tip so her nipples stood free, and he decided that it was a pretty good idea after all.
His opinion was reinforced when she told him that her favorite costume around the house, when she was alone, was no costume at all.
They were approaching the city now and in a few minutes he'd have to make up his mind whether to take a short cut that missed the city proper and would get him, get them, home some 45 minutes earlier; or whether they wanted to go straight into LA.
"Shall we break the news to people in person or call them?"
"Let's tell them in person. Not that it hasn't been great not seeing anybody but you; but some humanity would be nice for a change. I mean it would help me appreciate you even more."
"Okay! Now; do we change or hit the spots like this?"
Marcy looked at Johnny and herself: He needed a shave and was in tee-shirt and jeans; she had her hair in a ponytail and was wearing one of his shirts tied under her breasts and a pair of shorts. "I guess we'd better change. I could use a shower and you need to get reacquainted with a razor blade. And, it'd be fun getting into a dress again."
"Right!" Johnny drifted the car over to the outside lane, swung off the freeway and headed towards the cottage.
"Where are you going? I live in North Hollywood."
"Not any more. Which reminds me, we may need to have some more closets put in; and we'll undoubtedly need another bookcase or two, my books have already spilled to the floor."
Just then Marcy snickered and Johnny looked at her. "What's so funny?" he asked.
"I was just thinking I've been married two weeks and I don't know where I live yet."
"Right on the beach at East San Pedro in a cottage built by an architect who got killed in Korea. It's a wonderful place, very Frank Lloyd Wright."
"Very what?"
Johnny wasn't quite sure that he'd heard right. But then he decided that maybe since Marcy was young and had come from a very provincial town less than three years ago, she didn't know who Wright was. So he explained.
All he got in reply was a disinterested, "Oh!"
Well, he decided, she's been determined to get ahead in show business and she might not have had time to become aware of all the rest of the world. Then another thought hit him and he grinned to himself. I can play the Pygmalion bit, only for real.
Johnny Dane was a true Hedonist, only in the original sense of the word. He was interested in learning as much as he could about everything and one look at his bookcase, or a conversation with his true friends, revealed this.
But there were very few people in Hollywood who were Johnny's true friends. And most of them were writers or people on the fringes of the movie world, rather than stars. The big majority of his close friends came from the college campus and the coffeehouses in Venice. These were the people who knew that Johnny wrote poetry and was working on a modern version of the Arthurian myths.
Johnny just hoped that these people would see beyond the body of Marcy and glimpse what he thought he had discerned of the real woman underneath.
Then they were in front of the cottage and he pulled into the driveway, noting that the front porch was clutter with newspapers and milk bottles. We haven't even told people we were going to go away, he thought, then suddenly realized that the police might be looking for them, alerted by worried friends or business associates. He laughed, then explained to Marcy why.
"What would we have done if your friend had told someone where we were and they had caught us running around bare-assed?"
"Probably invited them to join us.
"But Sam's not the type of guy to tell anybody anything. He won't even agree that it's a nice day until he's sure it won't cost him something.
"Anyway, he'd have figured that, if we wanted people to find us, we'd have told them where we were." Johnny opened the car door and started to reach for their bags, but then he stopped. "This time I'm going to do it right. You are about to get carried across the threshold."
He slid one arm under Marcy's thighs, the other around her shoulders and lifted her from the car. Her arms looped themselves around his neck and she smiled as he made his way to the front door. He fumbled with the key, but finally got the door opened and carried her inside.
He lowered her to the floor, kissed her tenderly and said, "Look around, darling, while I get the bags. Then I'll show you where the towels are and you can shower while I shave."
Marcy kissed him briefly and smiled. "That sounds fine, honey."
But she didn't get much chance to look around, because it didn't take Johnny long to get the bags inside. Then he got her a towel and they went into the bedroom. Thank goodness, Johnny thought, that I made up the bed fresh after that redhead left. It'd be embarrassing to have her perfume on the sheets.
He pulled his teeshirt off, shoved down his jeans and undershirts and turned to look at Marcy, who was just stepping out of her panties. The sight of her nude body filled him with desire and he took the two steps necessary to put him next to her and slid his hands around to grasp her breasts.
As he lowered his mouth to kiss her shoulder, he whispered: "What do you say we let the shower go for a few minutes?"
Marcy twisted around to kiss him and, as her fingertips traced little patterns down his bare chest, she replied: "We could even skip letting people know about us until tomorrow, if you wanted to."
Johnny picked her up and carried her to the bed where he dropped her bounced down beside her. He bent his head over her breast and said, just before he kissed her nipple: "We could; but let's not. I like the idea of a lot of men being jealous of me because I get to sleep with you tonight ... and for them to be jealous, they have to know I'm going to."
Marcy started to say something but his hands and lips were at work on her body and she couldn't concentrate on anything worth saying; so she put her hands to work and let them tell him what was on her mind, which was: "Don't take too long, Johnny, because I'm hot and I need you now.
Later, as they dressed after cleaning up, Johnny once more reflected that he was a very lucky man to have a wife who was as great in bed as Marcy. He nuzzled the nape of her neck as he zipped up her dress and was delighted with the look of smoldering desire he got thrown back from the mirror.
"Let's not spend too long in town, Johnny. If we let the crowd in one or two places know, the word'll get around."
"Right. But let's get going. I want something to eat besides what's in the house." Marcy knew there was no food in the house because she'd looked and it took her almost five minutes to figure out what Johnny meant.
As they had expected, they were the center of attention as they walked into the restaurant.
And they had barely ordered when one of the top female columnists of the film colony's doings headed for the table where they were seated. As she approached, they could see her beady little eyes sparkling at them from under the long bangs, which more than one person had compared to a sheepdog's.
"Where have you two been? Don't you know that everybody's been dying of curiosity?"
Johnny grinned. "The only reason we've been hiding was that we couldn't find you to tell you the news a couple of weeks ago; and we wanted you to be the first to know."
"Know? You mean you've got a story for me?"
"We sure do, Lotenna. Marcy and I have been married for two weeks."
"Married? Married?" Lotenna's eyebrows vanished behind her bangs. "Well, well, well. What made you two decide to get married?"
"I don't know what motivated Marcy; but the reason I got married was that I finally found a single girl that reminded me of you." He pressed Marcy's foot under the table, so she wouldn't laugh.
Lotenna wasn't sure whether to believe him or not, but the idea that she'd been compared to Marcy Lennox was enough to play hell with her blood pressure.
"Marcy," she asked when she could function as a reporter again, "are you planning to give up your career?"
"Not right away. No until I get pregnant. And then it may be just a temporary retirement, long enough to nurse the baby and get it to where a nurse can handle it."
"Oh? What do you want, a boy or a girl?"
Marcy answered promptly: "We want a baby. As a matter-of-fact, we want two or three. But we don't care which kind they are."
Lotenna asked several more questions and then hit the topic they had been thinking about. "Do you plan to do pictures together?"
"That depends on Marcy's studio," Johnny answered. "I can work for anybody. If Arrow wants me to do a picture with Marcy and if they can find a good property, I'd be willing to work something out. But I'm going to insist on a good script."
"What about you, Marcy? Now that you don't need to work, are you going to start turning down scripts you don't like?"
"I don't know. I mean, all I've done so far has been light comedy; maybe I'm not suited for anything else. I know that I don't feel ready to try heavy drama yet, the classics would scare me to death. But I'd like to try something that would give me chance to prove whether I'm just another girl with a pretty face and big bust or an actress. Maybe a western or a mystery would do okay."
"Where do you plan to live?"
"We'll keep my place," Johnny replied before Marcy could reveal the location, which was fairly secret.
"Only one more question, if you don't mind? Wasn't this a very sudden marriage? I didn't even know you were dating. Not that I know everything that goes on, but it would have been difficult for the two of you to get together often without the word spreading."
"To tell you the truth, Lotenna, we fell in love the night we met," Marcy replied.
And Johnny added: "I guess you can say that neither of us believes in wasting time when we find something we want, we go after it."
Lotenna wished them luck and headed for a phone to call in her scoop; stopping at several tables as she crossed the room. Johnny and
Marcy smiled at the looks that were thrown their way, which showed amazement, surprise and envy.
Finally, one of the more daring couples came over to congratulate them and that started a general movement to their table. And, before long, everybody had stopped by, including the owner; who insisted on tearing up the check.
"You'd better watch out, Mr. Jayn, or you'll be..." Marcy stopped, then continued: "It would be a good gimmick."
"What would be a good gimmick?"
"Making the first meal in here for newlyweds on the house. Your wedding present, so to speak. Not that you need a gimmick, as good as your food is."
Mr. Jayn beamed and called for a bottle of his private champagne to toast the happy couple with.
As Marcy had predicted, it didn't take long for word of their marriage to spread. They visited several clubs after they ate and by the time they reached the fifth, people knew about them.
The fifth club enabled them to clear up a chore that had been confronting Marcy telling Louis Rogers about the marriage. He was at the bar and came over to congratulate them as soon as they were seated.
"What about pictures, Johnny. Are you going to do one with Marcy?"
"Find a good property and I'll be glad to do it. But that's all I'm interested in good material.
"In fact, I'm going to try to talk Marcy out of doing anything that was created solely to exploit her body. She can afford to be more selective in what she does now.
"But, find some good scripts and send them over. If there's one or two we like, we can work out a deal with you."
Louis nodded, then left, and Marcy and Johnny sipped their drinks and looked at each other. "Any place else you want to go, honey?" Johnny asked.
"Ummhumm!" murmured Marcy and Johnny tried not to show his disappointment but didn't succeed. Marcy giggled, then snuggled up to him and whispered: "Want to know where I want to go?" Without waiting for an answer she continued, "I want to go to bed."
Johnny started to rise, but Marcy caught his arm. "Finish your drink at least. We don't have to get up in the morning."
"We can drink at home."
"When we get home, we're going to be too busy to bother mixing drinks."
Johnny beamed in anticipation, but he did sip his drink, although the urge to gulp it down was strong in him. He was so eager to get home that he ran a couple of stop signs once they were in the car. And Marcy didn't blame him, she felt the same way.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Once they arrived at the cottage in East San Pedro, they hurried into the bedroom and Johnny pulled Marcy to him and kissed her. Her tongue darted forward to meet his and she pressed herself up against him. It was still a surprise to Johnny that she could put so much sex into a kiss.
But he didn't object at all because he liked it. So he edged Marcy over to the bed and stretched her out upon it, then joined her. As soon as they were reclining, he ran one hand under her dress and up her thigh.
"Let me strip, okay?" Marcy asked, pushing him away. "I don't want to get my dress wrinkled."
Johnny let her go and began to get rid of his own clothes. Marcy was still engaged in the ritual of undressing when he lay nude on the bed. He watched with a connoisseur's eye as she unhooked her bra and dropped it on the seat of a chair.
Even after two weeks of married life, the sight of her breasts was enough to take his breath away and fill him with desire.
Slowly Marcy skimmed her hands down her body until she reached her hips. Then she tucked her thumbs under the elastic of her panties and let the sensual self caress sweep them down her body, revealing the thick triangle of golden hair they had hidden. When the reached her knees, they fell of their own accord to the floor and Marcy hooked one toe in them then raised her leg until her hands could grab the skimpy panties and add them to the pile of filmy clothes on the chair.
Totally nude now, Marcy pivoted on one foot, keeping the other leg horizontal to the floor. Slowly she revolved, giving Johnny a good look at the body he knew so well already. She dropped her leg and stretched, then, with the smoothness of a ballet dance, she extended her leg again and leaned forward to touch her toes.
On the bed, Johnny could stand it no longer. In a voice made harsh by desire and passion he called, "Come here, Marcy."
In two bounding steps she was on the bed beside him and Johnny caught her by the arms and pulled her over him. As her mouth met his, he ran his hand down her side and shifted her hips until she was lying between his parted thighs.
Already Marcy was wiggling with excitement over him. This was something else Johnny loved about her, the fact that she needed only a short time before she was as aroused as he was. His fingers dug into the firm flesh of her buttocks as he probed her mouth with his tongue in an effort to arouse her even more.
Slowly his hands crept up her back and slid around her body to grasp her breasts. He fingered her nipples until they were fully extended and then he caressed her breasts, making them swell. Next, although it was difficult in the position they were in, Johnny managed to contort himself until he could fasten onto her breast with his mouth.
Eagerly he moved from one to the other, laving them with his tongue and biting gently at the nipples. And then he felt Marcy's hand creeping down his chest, over his belly, until she was gripping him and teasing him to greater heights of sensation. He moved one of his hands down her body until he could probe her.
On and on they stroked each other, gasping deep in their throats once in awhile. And then, suddenly, Marcy drew up her legs, causing her midsection to lift free from contact with him. With the ease that comes of practice and repitition she inserted him and sank back.
She tried to sit up but Johnny's arms were locked around her as tightly as his lips were locked onto her breast and she was forced to be content with the sensation she was receiving from being connected and having him suck at her breasts.
But finally that sensation wasn't enough and she was forced to whimper: "Johnny ... Johnny, please!"
With that he released her and she sat up over him and began to move. His hands cupped her buttocks and kneaded the silky flesh as he watched her pump over him with easy motions.
His hands roamed around her hips and began stroking her thighs and she suddenly seized them and guided them to her tautened breasts. Marcy moved up and down over him until they suddenly froze in ecstasy as world exploded for them.
Marcy dropped forward like a tree after the woodsman's ax had taken its last bite. Her mouth landed on Johnny's and her arms wormed their way under his body as she poured her tongue into his mouth for a long kiss. And, when it was ended, she shifted her head to his shoulder and they slept.
It was mid-afternoon when they woke up and they made love before even starting to think of what else there was to do. Then Marcy borrowed some eggs, bacon and toast from the next door neighbor and cooked brunch for them.
"What do we have to do today?" she asked as she washed the few dishes.
"Move your stuff over here, arrange to get more closet space and shop for food."
"Let's buy simple stuff until I find out what you like to eat; there's no use getting stuff that's just going to sit."
"Okay, make a list while I call an architect. And lets get another room while we're at it, for future additions to the family."
Marcy grinned happily as she picked up pencil and paper.
The next few days were hectic for them, with clothes, books and records taking up floor space while the carpenters altered the house. And, once they were through, Marcy, who was tired of doing nothing when she wasn't cooking or making love, decided to paint the interior of the house.
Johnny thought she was crazy, but she insisted that she liked to paint. "Besides, you're at the typewriter most of the time ,and I've got to do something." He finally gave in and she spent a week in jeans and a sweatshirt, with a scarf over her hair.
And, when the job was done, they decided to have a housewarming party so Marcy could meet the friends of Johnny's who hadn't been past.
Marcy was a little worried about playing hostess for Johnny's friends and it showed on her face as she walked into the room where he was dressing, toweling water from her body. But then Johnny looked up and whistled and distracted her, making her feel good because the sight of her nakedness thrilled him after seeing so much of it during the month they'd been married.
She dropped the towel to the floor and crossed to the bed, where her clothes were laid out and Johnny watched her as she sat on the bed and drew her stockings up her long, finely curved legs. Then, after a moment, she sat up and snapped her garter belt into place. A look in the mirror showed that the seams of her stockings weren't crooked and she reached for her panties.
Behind her, Johnny looked at her saucy buttocks and moved stealthily across the room. The first indication that Marcy had that he wasn't occupied with putting on his clothes came when he reached around her body and he occupied himself with her breasts, cupping them in his hands and fingering them freely.
His lips moved across her shoulder, up her neck and his tongue darted into her ear. Then one of his hands commenced to crawl down her body until it reached her panties. Without a bit of hesitation it continued, creeping inside of them and sliding down until it was stroking between her thighs.
With a gasp, Marcy reached behind herself and grabbed him. But her hand had barely closed when he stepped back and prevented her from offering reciprocal caresses. Impatiently Marcy turned to face him and slid her arms around his neck. Her bare breasts trembled against his shirt front and her tongue became a darting shaft of fire in his mouth as his hands covered her buttocks and his fingers dug into her flesh.
But, before the kiss could become too passionate, Marcy made herself pull away from Johnny and she told him: "Go on, Johnny, get dressed. People'll be here soon."
"To hell with them. I've got other ideas right now."
"Save them. We've got tomorrow and a lot of other days to make love. Right now, I don't want to start anything I can't finish."
Johnny pretended to be extremely disappointed. "Can't I even have a kiss?"
"Will you stop with just a kiss?"
"Nope!"
"Then you can't have your kiss until we're both dressed and just about to open the door for our guests." Once again Johnny gave her a pleading look, but Marcy ignored him and stepped into her skirt, a light cotton garment that was a marvel of brevity, ending a half-foot above her knees. Shoes with three and a half inch heels came next. Then Marcy reached for her bra.
She hated to wear them, preferring the freedom that came with leaving them off; but for her first meeting with Johnny's friends, she had decided that one was in order.
Then Johnny was holding her hand and she looked up to see him holding a package in the other hand. "Give me a kiss and I'll give you a present."
Marcy was a little reluctant because she knew what their kisses could lead to and she wanted to be ready when their guests arrived. But, womanly curiosity won out and she pulled Johnny's lips down to hers. To her surprise, he didn't try to go beyond a simple kiss. Even when she parted her lips and invited his tongue into her mouth he didn't try to go beyond a simple kiss.
Then he handed her the package. Marcy ripped the wrapping off hurriedly and found a box from one of the best clothing shops in town. She lifted the lid and discovered a black lace bra of the type that fitted under her breasts but left the upper slopes and her cleavage bare almost to the nipples. She was mystified as to why he would give her such a present.
Then he produced another package. "If I get another kiss, you get another present," he told her.
Marcy parted her lips, but Johnny didn't kiss her. At least he didn't kiss her on the mouth, instead, he bent and touched his lips to the tips of her breasts.
Once again Marcy found something from the clothing shop. This time it was a cashmere with a V-neckline that went almost to her navel. Now
Marcy understood the gift of the bra; none of those she already owned could be worn with the garment.
And the color of the sweater, a dull bronze, offset her blonde hair wonderfully. Marcy slipped into her new clothes, dabbed perfume behind her ears and on her breasts, then put away the bra and blouse she had been planning to wear and walked over to where Johnny was combing his hair.
She slipped her arms around him and leaned her head against his shoulder whispering: "I've got the nicest guy for a husband."
* * *
The party was a real success, both Marcy and Johnny felt. It hadn't been too large or too small and everybody seemed to have enjoyed themselves. And Marcy had been able to get along with everyone by simply listening while they talked and giving people the idea that she was smarter than she was.
As usual, there were a few people who stayed and stayed. Marcy assumed that they were like the stragglers at any party, until she noticed that an air of something more to come was beginning to prevail. Finally, there were only four other couples besides her and Johnny left.
Her husband looked at one of the men and he said: "It's outside in the car, I'll get it." He left and returned in a minute with a small can. Everyone pressed forward as he pried the top off and dumped the contents out on a table. "There it is. Right from Mexico."
It was what appeared to be weeds. And suddenly Marcy knew what she was looking at-marijuana! She'd known people who smoked it, been at parties where it had been smoked, but she had never touched it. And now, Johnny had rolled a cigarette and was handing it to her, after taking a deep drag.
Marcy looked at him, then shrugged: Why not? She took the skinny roll and drew smoke into her lungs, imitating the way the others were doing.
The cigarettes passed back and forth between the men and girls and Marcy was soon filled with a curious sense of calm, a feeling that nothing was important. She was only vaguely aware of it when Johnny sat down beside her.
But then his hands touched her shoulders and she was very aware of it. It was as if she could feel every ridge and swirl of his fingerprints as they met her skin. She turned her head and Johnny kissed her.
Her mouth parted slowly and her tongue moved slowly forward to meet his. Then his hands moved down her body, along the bare skin in the V of her sweater and into her bra. Marcy felt her nipples grow to hardness as his thumb and forefinger closed over them and tugged gently at them.
Marcy reached behind her back and unhooked her bra and it seemed to take hours to do so. Then Johnny's hands were squeezing her breasts and he was leaning against her, urging her to lie back on the floor. Marcy didn't need urging, not the way she was feeling.
Johnny's hands ran over her breasts, fondling them, until Marcy gasped and started doing things with her hands to him.
And then he moved one hand out of her sweater and ran it down her side until it reached her knee. Slowly he caressed it for a moment, then started it up her thigh. And, when he reached the top of her leg, Marcy lifted her hips and let him tug her panties off.
Marcy giggled as she thought of what the other people would say if they knew she wasn't making love to a man in front of spectators the first time. But then she got so wrapped up in making love with Johnny that she forgot there was anyone else present. She arched her back in an attempt to get closer to him, swung her legs up in the air and drove harder under him as her legs locked around his waist. It seemed to her that she could feel everything that was happening to her, every movement that Johnny made over her and every response her body made to hers.
And then a world exploded and it was as if Marcy could feel the molecules separating as they were torn apart. Involuntarily a scream broke from her throat and Marcy thought she could feel the muscles move as they worked to produce the sound. It had never been so good.
It wasn't long after that that the rest of the people left. Marcy and Johnny stood in the door saying goodbye. Her arms were around his waist and his were draped over her shoulder, with the hand inside her sweater, absently fondling her breast.
As soon as the last car pulled away, Johnny locked the door and turned off the outside light. Marcy walked over to the middle of the room, picked up her panties and followed him into the bedroom.
CHAPTER NINE
Another month went past, with Johnny and Marcy loafing around the house; sleeping late, catching up on their reading, going out on the town. They were still news and had to grant interviews frequently because people wanted to know about the life of America's top stars. And one of the questions people kept asking was: When are you going to do a picture together!
Johnny and Marcy gave everyone the same answer: "As soon as we find a story that fits us."
Then Marcy and Johnny received a call from Louis Rogers. He had just discovered a story by a completely unknown writer, he was sure they'd been interested in and was sending it over.
It was about time they both thought, since both were anxious to get to work. An hour later they were curled up in the living room, pouring over the script.
Four hours later, after reading the script twice, Johnny lowered his copy and looked at Marcy. She lowered her copy and looked at him. Neither of them had to speak; they both knew it was the script for them.
Johnny wasn't quite as enthusiastic as Marcy until he talked to Louis and got him to agree to a couple of changes. Then Johnny began to feel impatient about the delays in starting.
"But, Johnny," Louis said, "we don't even have a director yet. We haven't cast the other parts, we..."
"What about Kaplin to direct?" Johnny interrupted.
Behind him, Marcy gasped. Jorge Kaplin, a refugee from one of the Iron Curtain countries, had achieved a position in America higher than any other director. It was said, with some accuracy, that his name on a picture would draw almost as many people as big stars did.
"I know him; and he's expressed an interest in working with me," Johnny replied to a question of Louis's. "Yes. I'll call him. If he's interested, he can get in touch with you." Johnny hung up.
"Do you really think Kaplin'll do this?"
"Why not? It's a good story. He told me he wanted to do a picture with me. What would stop him?"
* * *
That was the same question that Jorge Kaplin asked himself as he read the script. He could see only one thing that might make him reluctant to do the picture-Marcy Lennox Dane might not be an actress. He was aware that she was a big draw, but there were a lot of big draws who could act their way out of a wet paper bag.
But, still, he wanted to do this picture, wanted to do it so badly that he could almost taste the desire in his mouth. And both Johnny Dane and Louis Rogers were insistent that Marcy do the female lead.
The only thing Jorge could do was see if Marcy was an actress, or if she had the raw potential that he could use to mold a decent effort from her.
But, after seeing her pictures, he was still unable to decide. So he called the Dane residence and asked her to come past his office.
Marcy realized that getting him was dependent on her impressing him. She was, therefore, a little nervous as she waited in the anti-room of his office. And the fact that he showed up half-an-hour late didn't calm her any.
"Sorry I'm late," Kaplin barked from around his cigar, "come on, let's get going."
As she followed him through the door, Marcy thought about this man who commanded so much respect, not only in Hollywood, but in all the film centers of the world.
To look at him, you would have thought he couldn't get anything but ridicule in a town where physical beauty was so commonplace, because Jorge Kaplin looked like a monkey. He was short, with a thick chest, long arms and pipestem legs. His head was carried forward on his thick neck. And his face was nothing special either.
In fact, it was a face that only a mother could really love. It was red and coarse, with over-sized ears and a nose that was spread crooked as a result of a Gestapo beating; add to this a wild fringe of hair and you had Jorge Kaplin-human monkey. A poorly dressed human monkey at that.
But Jorge Kaplin had an uncanny ability to know exactly where to place a camera for every shot in a movie; he knew how to handle actors and actresses so that they did superlative jobs; how to convey mood and feeling so that the audiences lived the pictures he made, rather than just saw them.
He was loved by actors and actresses because he made them seem better than they really were. He was loved by the public because he gave them greater entertainment than most directors. And he was loved by producers because he didn't need a big budget.
Jorge Kaplin didn't waste time with experimental shots. He told the cast what he wanted, had them do it dry and then shot. Unless a mistake was made, he shot a scene once. He had even come in under the budget on a low budgeted picture and it had won three Oscars.
Naturally Marcy was nervous as she faced him. And she was totally unprepared when he told her: "Let's pretend we're shooting a strip movie. Take it off."
Marcy looked at him. "Just like that? No music? No nothing? Just take it off?"
"Sure. You wouldn't have an audience if you did it in a film; the music would be dubbed in later. If you're an actress, you can imagine all that."
Marcy wasn't sure that he was correct but she was sure she was an actress. And if Kaplin said an actress could do it, she would.
Slowly she began to prance around the room, humming silently as she went. Once she had established the rhythm, she moved her hands to the buttons on her jacket and opened it, then slipped it off and tossed it disdainfully onto a chair.
With the same icy calm she opened her blouse and reached behind her back. In a second her bra joined the jacket, revealing the inner surfaces of her breasts and the deep valley between, while the tips and other half of them were concealed by her blouse.
Still moving around the room in time to the music in her head, Marcy unhooked and unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor. She stepped out of the puddle of cloth, kicked off her shoes and pushed the half-slip off. Then she lifted the skirt and half-slip with her foot and caught them in her hand. They too were tossed to the chair.
Clad only in her blouse, panties, stockings and garter belt now, Marcy began to sway sensually as she moved. Jorge Kaplin lit a cigar and watched her.
Faster and faster her hips undulated as she slid the blouse off of her shoulders with one hand holding it closed in the middle until the extreme upper slopes of her breasts became visible. Then, with a sudden movement, she stripped off the blouse.
The dance was getting to her now and she lifted one leg to take off the stocking, but kept up the exotic sway of her body. In a few seconds the stocking was off and she repeated the movement with the other leg.
Once again she started to undulate her hips, but now she peeled off her panties, revealing to Jorge's staring eyes the tuff of hair at the base of her belly.
All that remained between Marcy and totally nudity was her garter belt, but she made no move to take it off. Instead started a series of bumps and grinds that caused Jorge's eyes to bulge and made him forget his cigar.
He stared at her lush body as if he couldn't believe it was real, and when his dead cigar fell from his slack lips, he wasn't aware of it.
Then, suddenly, he was rising from his chair and moving towards her. It was plain what was on his mind, but Marcy didn't mind. She was just as aroused as he was. She wanted relief just as much as he did.
But she did manage to say: "Take off your clothes while I lock the door." She didn't want anyone to interrupt them. And, even as she spoke, Jorge started stripping. By the time Marcy got the door locked, he was as naked as she was.
Undressed, he looked even more like a monkey, since his chest, arms and legs were covered with thick, curly hair. But Marcy didn't care if he looked like a monkey, all she cared about was what was going to happen.
She and Jorge looked at each other and raced for the broad coach. Marcy beat him by a sparse second and flopped onto it and he was upon her an instant later.
His hands clawed at her breasts, his mouth covered hers and his tongue moved forward as his thin haunches drove at her relentlessly. Marcy had never had an experience like she was having under Jorge. He not only looked like an animal, he made love like one; assaulting her with a primitive lust, driving her and forcing her to strive for the franticness he was displaying.
She didn't expect to, but she found it. Despite the fact that Kaplin was in his 40's, he was still as energetic as a boy in the prime of youth. like a machine he continued, filling Marcy with a sense of wonder and amazement as she reached the heights time after time after time.
Marcy knew that Kaplin was having a great time too. He stiffened almost half-a-dozen times before she gave up keeping track and still he continued. Oh, my God, she thought, he'll kill me if he keeps it up much longer. But she didn't care because she suddenly thought-what a way to die.
However, he was finally satisfied. He rolled away from her and held out his hand. 'There's a shower through there."
Fifteen minutes later they were back in his office and getting dressed again. And now that the act was over, Jorge was as talkative as he'd been silent while he was having her.
"You won't say anything, will you?" he'd say, or: "I don't know what got into me. Never before have I asked such a thing ... tell a young lady to undress ... ravish her ... it's unthinkable . . " or again: "It's just that you were so desirable. My wife, never these days does she want to make love..."
Marcy was inwardly pleased that she'd been put in a position of power over such a man. And, at the same time, she was thrilled by the fresh memory of his prowesses and the savageness of his love-making.
like her experiences with Jean or Frankie, it was something she had enjoyed tremendously. To herself she said: This is the way it should be some of the time, a man taking his woman without any concern for anything but the act itself. I'd be disgusted if Johnny raped me every time he wanted me; I'd feel slighted as a person. But, once in a while I wish he'd be less concerned about making sure I was aroused. After all, the male is supposed to be the dominant figure. He should remember that he can best remind me of his dominance by having me for his pleasure, not ours.
She finished buttoning her jacket and crossed to Kaplin's side, where she bent over and kissed him. "Don't blame yourself," she said. "If I hadn't wanted you, I could have stopped you."
"It won't happen again," Jorge said. "I assure you of that. No matter of the circumstances when we work together, it will not happen."
Marcy smiled. "That's up to you," she said and started to leave. Then his words sank in and she whirled, as excited as a school girl. "Did you say work together?"
"Yes. Yes. You are an actress. And I like this picture. I think, just maybe, it will be another Blue Dawning."
Marcy squealed. Blue Dawning was the picture that had won the three Oscars. Impulsively she threw her arms around Jorge and kissed him as passionately as she knew how.
At first his arms came around her, drawing her tighter to him. But then he pushed her away.
"Enough! Enough! An old man can only take so much. Already this afternoon with you I've made love more than with my wife in a month. If you don't' leave, it will be I forget my intentions about you and we'll make it two months."
Impishly Marcy reached for the buttons on her jacket.
Jorge gulped. "Go on, go on. I have things to do. Go tell your husband we start shooting the scenes between just the two of you as soon as Rogers can make arrangements for the set. He can do the other casting while we work. No one else in the picture is important, anyway."
Marcy was so elated that she almost skipped out of the office. Johnny was elated too. So elated that he insisted on doing the town to celebrate.
And, when Johnny did the town, he did it right. Dinner at one of the best restaurants in town, followed by an evening of roaming from one nightclub to another. He and Marcy hit every spot from the swank Sunset Strip places to the coffeehouse in Venice.
It was almost dawn when they got home. Rather unsteadily they made their way inside and collapsed on the bed and, in seconds, they were asleep in each other's arms.
Marcy woke up late in the afternoon, with the worst hangover she's ever experienced. She groaned once as the sunlight struck her weary eyes, then noticed that Johnny was no longer in bed with her.
And, just then, he came in carrying a cup of coffee and a glass of hangover cure for her. Gratefully Marcy sipped them, and once they had started to work, she took a cold shower. She was sitting at her dressing table, dressed in a large towel, fixing her hair when Johnny came back in.
He whistled at her as she smiled over her shoulder at him. "I was going to ask what you wanted for breakfast; but after looking at you and seeing how delectable you look right now; as far as I'm concerned, food can wait for a while."
CHAPTER TEN
True to his word, Jorge Kaplin didn't make any passes at Marcy when they were thrown together at work. But then, he didn't have to, since they were together a lot and Marcy kept finding herself thinking of the afternoon he had agreed to direct the picture. And, she found herself being unwillingly drawn to him.
While he was all business, he still managed to teach her not only about the craft of acting, but about the history of the movies and the art of the film.
Marcy knew that he was married and that he had three children to whom he was devoted. She also knew that he would never thing of a divorce because of his religion. In fact, she was sure that he would not even fall in love with her. After all, she wasn't in love with him; but, try as she did, she couldn't help wanting him to make love to her again.
Then, one afternoon when she was in the trailer she and Johnny had been given as a dressing room, she decided to do something about her growing desire. Johnny had finished his scenes and gone home early and Marcy, who had a scene to do when he left, had said she's take a cab when she was finished.
Now she was in the midst of changing from her costume to street clothes. There was a knock on the door and Jorge came in. At the sight of her body clad only in the skimpiest bra and panties, he started to back out the door, but Marcy said, "Don't be silly. It isn't as if you've never seen me with this little on."
Jorge nodded and shut the door. "About the love scene we shoot tomorrow with you and Johnny..."
Marcy's mind shot ahead to the next day and the love scene. It called for Johnny to come into her apartment and catch her in a sheer negligee; which he would remove after some dialogue that would barely get past the censors. In the American version of the film, she would be wearing a bra and panties, but in the European version, she would be nude when the robe was removed.
"You understand that in both versions, when Johnny pulls off the robe, you move your hands to cover yourself."
Marcy nodded, then, as an afterthought, she said: "I think so."
Jorge began to explain what he meant but Marcy interrupted him.
"Wait a minute. I'll put on a robe and you can show me." Before Jorge could object, Marcy was disappearing into her closet. She started to slip into her robe, but hesitated. At least, she hesitated for a minute; then she slipped out of her bra and panties and donned the robe over her naked body.
When she returned to the room, Jorge had taken off his jacket and had mixed drinks from the small bar for them. As Marcy sipped her drink, she asked: "There's only a second between where Johnny pulls off the robe and when he grabs me? Right?"
"Actually, you grab each other."
"Are we going to shoot the European version the way we talked about? With him kissing my breast, I mean?"
Jorge gulped as he thought of that, then nodded.
"Okay. Shall we try the cover-up bit now?" asked Marcy as she sat her glass down. Jorge nodded and caught hold of her robe, which he yanked down until it could fall of its own accord. Seemingly by instinct, Marcy's hands flashed to cover herself.
For a second she looked at Jorge, then with a cry of helplessness she fell into his arms. She caught at him and pressed his head down to where his lips touched her nipple.
According to the script, at this point, she was to be picked up, carried to the bed, covered with a sheet and left. Jorge tried to follow the story line, but, when he laid her on the couch, Marcy used her arms to pull him down on top of her.
Her invitation was unmistakable and Jorge accepted it, pausing only long enough to shove off his trousers and shorts before seeking her.
like the previous time, there was no caresses, no tenderness in the joining of their bodies. Jorge took her and Marcy responded to the animalness of his assault, arching her body under him and using her legs to draw him deeper.
She tried to pull his head up to where she could kiss him, but he refused to surrender her breast, and Marcy was soon caught up fully in the sexual onslaught. Her nails dug into his back and her heels drummed a tattoo against his buttocks as they moved relentlessly in and out against each other.
Incoherent little cries came from her throat as the thrills he was producing caused the excitement in her to build up. And suddenly Marcy was screaming as worlds began to explode for her. Instantly Jorge's mouth was over hers, sealing her screams as his tongue entered her mouth and he twisted his lips upon hers. And Marcy accepted his slithering tongue as eagerly as she had accepted the rest of him and his lovemaking. Her mouth trapped his tongue and sucked on it, spurring him to renewed sexual fury.
But he was finally too tired to perform and Marcy reluctantly had to unlock her legs from around his waist and let them fall to the couch. She and Jorge lay there then, in silence, breathing heavily, with their arms still around each other's sweat-slick body for several minutes until Jorge withdrew from her and sat up.
Once again they showered together, then dressed and, as she was adjusting her clothing, she knew she didn't want him to just go. She wanted some sign, some word, that there was to be more of their affair.
"I'm sorry this happened," he exclaimed and Marcy caught his hand and pressed the palm to her lips.
"Don't be sorry on my account. If I hadn't wanted it, I could have avoided what happened. I could have prevented anything from happening."
Jorge looked at her in disbelief. "You prefer me to your husband?" he asked incredulously.
"It isn't a matter of preference. I enjoy having sex with you; but I enjoy it with Johnny also. And, I can take you in the afternoon, then go home and be as passionate as I ever am with Johnny. I know because I did it the last time. So ,why shouldn't I have you?"
Jorge didn't answer right away, because he was considering what Marcy had said.
As he told her after their first session, his wife was no longer inclined to be his sexual partner except when he demanded it of her. And, because he loved his wife, he was reluctant to make demands on her too often; yet, despite the fact that he was middle-aged, he still wanted an active sex life.
Here was the perfect answer to his dilemma. This attractive young woman, who was as sexual, as passionate, as anyone he'd ever met, was apparently offering to become his mistress. And he was in a position where he could take a mistress if he wanted one. Without his wife objecting; because she had often suggested he direct his desires towards another woman.
Slowly Jorge tightened his fingers around Marcy's breast, making her shiver. Moving with a studied calmness, he placed his other hand on her leg and dug the fingers in, then moved his hand under her skirt, up her thigh. Deliberately he pushed the crotch band of her panties to one side and probed her.
Before long, Marcy couldn't stand it. With a gasp she sat up, circling him with her arms and pressing her lips to his in a kiss as wanton as any he'd ever received, giving him her tongue at once. He could have taken her then, but he didn't. Instead, he showed her that he was as capable of being tender and romantic as any other man she'd known.
First he removed his hand from her panties, took the other from her breast and placed them on her cheeks, where he stroked her heated skin with his fingertips as he kissed her.
Slowly Jorge unbuttoned Marcy's blouse and slipped it off, planting kisses along her shoulders and neck as he did so. In another few seconds, her bra was also on the floor and he looked at breasts as if seeing them for the first time.
Marcy cupped her hands under them and lifted them to him and he bent his head and paid homage to the bountiful globes;
"Ooohhh, Jorge," Marcy moaned as he laved the deep valley between her breasts and her hands massaged the back of his neck as he lowered her to the couch and stretched out beside her.
His hands slipped under her skirt again, up the back of her thighs and into her panties. His hands on her were gentle, and before long Marcy hips were undulating in an easy rhythm against him while he nuzzled her belly, darting his tongue into her deep navel.
Then he sat up and removed her skirt, leaving only her blue panties between her and a state of total nudity. As he looked at her, Marcy clasped her hands to her breasts, "Do you like me?" she asked.
"You are divine," he answered. "A painter's dream. If a man could portray you faithfully, he'd be assured of a masterpiece."
As he'd spoken, his hands had been stroking her thighs with the lightest of pressures and now Marcy reached up her arms to him, begging him with the expression on her face for a kiss.
Slowly he stretched out beside her again, taking her into his arms and biting gently at her lower lip when she tried to kiss him. His hands fitted easily over her hardening breasts and he rotated his palms against the nipples, making Marcy shiver.
As he probed the inside of her mouth with his tongue, Marcy busied herself with removing his clothes. And when he was naked, she pressed him onto his back and rested half upon him, teasing him with quick kisses on the mouth that added to his arousal.
Then her lips started to move over his body, kissing briefly and then skidding to another spot. And when she reached the lower part of his belly, he reached down and cupped her chin in his hand, then raised her face.
"I want to," she asserted and he nodded, releasing her to perform erotic torture with her lips upon him.
His hands clutched at her shoulders and she knew he was coming close to the limits of his endurance, so she pulled away and lay beside him, wiggling out of her panties as she did so.
His hands closed over her body and Marcy sighed, sure that he would take her.
But, when he did take her, it was not the way she had expected. Marcy had flung one arm over her eyes, shutting out all sight as Jorge had moved over her and she had waited for the sweet thrust of him.
Instead, she had received the warmth of his lips against her and she looked at him in surprise as he hunched between her thighs, turning her into a roiling cauldron of need and lust.
Her hips jutted up in an attempt to get herself nearer to his torturing tongue and Jorge slipped his hands under her, gripped her buttocks and raised her. "Ummmmmmm," Marcy murmured as his tongue struck the most sensitive part of her and commenced to build her up to heights of sensation.
Then he was moving over her, fitting himself into the groove of her body and sinking downward and Marcy kissed him avidly.
This time he took her with tenderness, displaying none of the savage fury that had been so evident before. He stroked her breasts, belly, thighs and buttocks as he moved upon her, making her delight in the capacity of her body to receive.
The end drew nearer and nearer still and Marcy matched Jorge perfectly, contorting herself under him to make this area or that of her body more accessible to his hands. And then there was no longer any time for her to think about how wonderful it was, or how she could make it better for him because they were caught in the maelstrom of exploding worlds and carried up, up, up until they were dropped like stones into blackness.
It was with great gentleness that Jorge kissed her when they recovered and lay with their arms and legs entwined. Marcy didn't want to let him go, didn't want to leave the contentment of holding him upon her.
But, finally, they had to part. He mixed drinks for them as she took another shower, then showered himself. They dressed in silence and it was only as they were going out of the dressing room that he brought out what was on his mind.
"Will there be ... can there be another time like this?"
After a quick look revealed that they were unobserved, Marcy reached over and fondled him boldly as she replied: "I don't know if we can have it that good again; but we can sure try to."
"You will be my mistress then?"
"Will be?" Marcy chuckled. "I already am."
That was all Jorge needed. He pulled her into a hidden nook and kissed her longingly, teasing her with his body before shoving her away. "There is still the problem of arrangements?"
Marcy nodded, bit her lower lip as she thought, then brightened. "I can tell Johnny that you're coaching me, helping me become a better actress. He'll go along with that, I'm sure.
"We can use the dressing room; or, if you think we might get discovered there, we can check into a motel or use the backseat of your car.
"But, we can count on a couple of times a week, I'm sure."
Jorge nodded. "Can I give you a lift?" he asked solicitously.
"No. I'd better take a cab home this time. After I've talked to Johnny, then you can drive me home without him getting suspicious."
Jorge chuckled, "I hope you persuade him soon."
I'm going to do my best."
As Marcy had suspected, Johnny was completely agreeable to her getting acting lessons from Jorge Kaplin. In fact, he even helped facilitate their affair by saying: "If Jorge wants, I'll go out a couple of nights a week, so you can use the house without being interrupted."
Then Marcy was pressing up against him, wiggling provocatively as his arms went around her. She assumed that if she got him interested in her body, he wouldn't be so apt to think about what could transpire between her and Jorge when he wasn't around. She was very correct in her assumption.
It was three days before she got a chance to tell Jorge about the arrangements she had made. As she had guessed, he was dubious at first. But she quickly calmed him. "We'll make sure we're showered and dressed long before Johnny's due home. And I'll play up to him so he'll want to take me to bed as soon as he can. That way, he won't suspect anything.
"Anyhow you can always claim another appointment so he won't be able to talk about the lessons."
Jorge nodded.
He and Marcy had a dozen memorable sessions together in the oversized bed at her house before the picture was over. And, the last day, they had a final session in the early morning, despite having been together the night before.
Johnny had finished his role and Marcy had one scene left. And Jorge offered to pick her up on his way to the set, so Johnny could sleep late.
"I'll come by an hour early so we can have extra time to rehearse the scene," he said and Marcy nodded after getting his wink.
That night, after they'd made love, Johnny expressed his surprise at Jorge's taking such an interest in her. Marcy looked at him with a thoughtful expression on her face and said: "I guess I'm the weak link in the picture. If he can get a good performance out of me, then things'll be fine."
With his head nestled on her breast, Johnny murmured that he didn't have any trouble getting a good performance out of her. They chuckled and drifted off to sleep.
* * *
It was early in the morning when Jorge picked her up and the streets were deserted. As they drove towards the location, Jorge asked: "Will we continue our lessons after today."
Marcy looked dejected. "I don't know. Johnny and I are going to Hawaii for a few days and then I have to go to New York for a TV show, after that, I'll join him in Florida while he does a film."
Jorge looked disappointed and Marcy laughed. "There's nothing that says we have to rehearse before the others get there. And, I will be coming back to Hollywood."
Jorge stepped on the gas and fairly raced to the location. And, as soon as they were there, he parked the car in a hidden spot and turned to Marcy.
Eagerly she wrapped her arms around him and took his tongue into her mouth as he pushed her back onto the seat and fumbled with her panties. Marcy lifted her hips so he could pull them off and opened his fly with trembling hands. And a few seconds later they were locked in an embrace that filled them both with amazement at the wonder of it. Their hips pounded at each other and Marcy dug her fingers into Jorge's shoulders as his hands clutched and squeezed at her breasts. Their tongues moved feverishly inside first one mouth and then the other as they strained themselves onwards to the fury of the orgasm they know would come.
* * *
Marcy and Jorge had barely rearranged their clothes and gotten their breathing back to normal when the rest of the crew arrived and they had to devote themselves to the business of making a movie.
Johnny arrived at about 10:30 and watched as Marcy went through the scene for what seemed to her to be the millionth time. Maybe Johnny's watching her did something to her, but after they got through the scene, Jorge yelled: "Print it."
Slowly Marcy walked over to where Johnny was sitting and collapsed in his lap. His arm moved and he rubbed her back as he whispered: "Tired, honey?" Marcy murmured yes and he went on, "I've got two bags of your things in the car. Want to take a chance I didn't forget anything and catch the next plane?"
Instantly Marcy was on her feet and dragging him from the chair. "Let's go," she almost yelled.
Johnny grinned at this display of exuberance and pulled her close for a kiss before they got Jorge's admission that he was through with them and they could leave when they wanted.
So Marcy and Johnny left for their week in Hawaii, which was spent swimming, resting in the sun, sight-seeing and making love. In the three months they had been married, they had come to know each other so well that now every touch of lips, hands or body produced the maximum intensity and fed added fuel to the flame of their desires, raising them to the utmost level.
However, despite the satisfaction that she got every time she made love with Johnny, Marcy was a little disappointed; because he was never anything but completely tender with her and she wished that he would, once in a while at least, think of himself first.
Why do I want it to be rough at times, Marcy wondered on the plane as she and Johnny flew home. She looked at her sleeping husband in the seat next to her. Why aren't I content with Johnny the way he is?
At last she decided that it was because Johnny was so different from the men she'd known when she was growing up. With them, the woman's moods hadn't mattered. Even with Donny, despite his tenderness and care, Marcy knew she would have been thrown onto her back and made to submit if she'd gotten him aroused and then decided that there was something she wanted to do more than make love, at the moment.
But Johnny, while he might have been sulky at such a move, would have been content with less than the ultimate. And this was a totally alien concept to Marcy. In Palmville, a woman had been a woman and a man a man, and women had been subservient to their men. They were supposed to be available when he wanted them, whether they were ready or not.
Marcy wanted Johnny to be the boss, to make her know that, even if he did ask her opinion on things, if he did exert himself to insure that she was aroused, he was still the dominant figure in their marriage.
In other words, Marcy didn't want to be a full partner. At the most, she wanted to be a junior partner, and a very junior partner at that. She wanted Johnny to find out what she wanted to do, and then to do what he wanted if there was a difference in their desires at the time.
Consideration was all right, she decided, but she wished that Johnny would consider himself more and her less. And she also wished he would admit that she wasn't an intellectual and didn't particularly want to be one. She didn't mind reading the books he gave her, but she wished he'd let her choose some of her reading material. And she surely wished he'd stop trying to act like a teacher and quiz her on what she'd just read.
Maybe it wasn't a good idea to get married, she decided. If all Johnny and I have in common really is sex, we should have become lovers.
* * *
Then her thoughts jumped from the shortcomings of her marriage to New York. It was going to be a different town for her now that she was a successful star with a famous husband.
And then Marcy wondered what she would do to fill the time when she wasn't working. With Johnny in Florida, she would be alone; and, while shooting the show would take up a lot of her time, there would be periods when she was completely free.
Johnny wanted her to go to art galleries and concerts. But Marcy knew that, while she might try, it wouldn't keep her occupied for long. What she really wanted to do was go out on the town; to shows, nightclubs and parties. She wanted to go dancing and have a good time, which, to her, meant going to bed with someone when the evening was over.
But who?
Then she thought of Ray Wilson and smiled.
Ray was good in bed. And she was willing to bet that he would be very happy to become her lover.
The only problem was to work it so there wouldn't be any bad publicity. Louis Rogers would have a fit if his top star got into a scandal. Then, Marcy thought of a way to avoid scandal and smiled in anticipation of setting her plans into motion.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
As soon as Marcy got to New York, she talked to Louis Rogers and started the wheels moving on her plan. "It would be bad if the papers found out that I was dating someone, wouldn't it?"
"Yes. That's why you're not going to date."
"But I am going to date," Marcy replied. "And the studio publicity man is going to make sure everybody knows I'm doing so." Louis looked at her in amazement. "Furthermore," Marcy went on, "it's going to look so natural that everybody will think it was deliberate. You know, a publicity stunt."
"You've lost me, Marcy," Louis said, with a shake of his head.
"Do you remember the first film I did? The one I made here in New York?" Louis remembered only too well. "You're going to sign the boy that was in it to a contract and release a story that he and I were classmates here. Then, when we're seen around together, it will be assumed that it's just a thing to build Ray up and they won't raise a stink.
"And Johnny'll just think it's a publicity gimmick too. And you'll get a new personality, with a name people'll recognize."
"And what'll you get?" Louis wanted to know.
I'll get a substitute for Johnny."
Louis winced. That's what I was afraid of."
But Marcy smiled at him. "If we keep it in the open, everybody will have to assume it's a publicity gimmick. On the other hand, if we tried to hide it, someone would be sure to find out and then wowee, scandal. So doing it my way is best.
"At least, it's better than having the rumor going around that I was seducing bellhops or delivery boys."
It took a little more than that; but Marcy finally convinced Louis. And then she called Johnny and told him that it was to be a publicity stunt.
The following night, she went out with Ray Wilson; making sure they were seen together in several places the studio publicity man had told them to visit.
They didn't stay long at any of the places, just long enough to be photographed or noticed, and they moved to the next place on the list. Until they came to the last spot on their itinerary, which the publicity man didn't know about. The last place they went was the suite Arrow Productions had reserved for Marcy.
She and Ray had a nightcap there and Marcy noticed the hungry look in his eye when she sat opposite him and displayed half of her thigh to his eyes. But he didn't make a pass at her, and, after two drinks, he made moves as if to go.
"What's the matter, Ray? You're not scared of me, are you?"
"No. But you've got a husband."
"Who's in Florida, and who thinks I'm seeing you to help get your name before the public. And, besides, I don't expect that he's being faithful to me. He's a fool if he is."
"Just what do you have in mind?" Ray asked, suspiciously.
"Let me ask you a question?" Marcy answered. Slowly she came to her feet and stood in such a way that the flowing lines of her body were shown to her best advantage. "What do you think of me?"
"Physically you're the tops," Ray said hesitantly, "if that's what you mean."
"That's what I mean. But tell me about it."
"Well, your breasts are tremendous, they drive men crazy to touch and caress and kiss them. Your hips are full enough to make me drool at the thought of them and your legs are better than even Grable's.
"And the way you make love is like a cross between a tornado and a featherbed. A man clings to you and knows that he's having the best that's available.
"But your buttocks. Your buttocks!" A gleam came into Ray's eyes. "They're the most delectable buttocks I've ever seen. They jiggle when you walk, the saucy way they yielded when I'd dig my fingers into them. Just the thought of them makes my palms itch to get at them."
"You mean they're spankable?"
"Yes," Ray breathed hoarsely. "They're so spankable it's hard to think about them. I'd like to spank them until they were red and then kiss the hurt away from them with the softest kisses I can give."
Marcy smiled at him. "All right."
Ray looked blankly at her, not comprehending what she had said, until she caught the material of her dress and raised her skirt to her hips, revealing her long, legs with their smooth nylons hugging them snuggly. Ray's eyes took in the flash of thigh covered only in part by the straps of her garters, then centered on the tight bulge at the crotch of her panties, which were black and lacy.
Ray's eyes bulged as Marcy turned and bent forward slightly, jutting her buttocks out at him. Then she reversed her direction and walked over to him. "You can surely take my panties down, if you want to, can't you, Ray?"
Ray gulped and reached out to her, acting almost as if he weren't sure whether he was dreaming or not. But, as soon as her white buttocks were uncovered, he knew he was awake and he peeled down the flimsy garments rapidly until they were around her ankles and she could step out of them.
Then she lay across his lap, with her skirt folded across the small of her back and her buttocks a delectable target. Slowly Ray put his hands on them, let the palms mold themselves to the rise of her flesh. His fingers dug in and he caressed her more skillfully than any other man had done.
And suddenly Marcy remembered Judge Kramer and how aroused he had gotten her with his spanking and she quivered a little in anticipation, waiting for Ray's hands to go to work.
She didn't have to wait long, for suddenly her buttocks were free and then there was the pleasant contact of flesh with flesh and a stinging sensation shot through her. "Oh!" she gasped as Ray slapped at her again and again, filling her with a steadily increasing fire of hunger for him.
As Ray kept his hand bouncing off of her buttocks, Marcy began to work the fastener on her dress and in a minute she'd pulled it off. Then she unhooked her bra and lay there, squirming, in his lap with only her garter belt and stockings on.
Ray spanked on and on until she was filled with the most delicious pain and then he lifted her and almost raced to the bed, where he stretched her out face down and started to do as he'd said he would kiss the pain away.
Marcy was still wiggling about in hunger as his mouth moved over the tormented mounds and she could hardly stop from turning and dragging him into her embrace. But, something told her that there were new thrills to be gained if she was willing to let Ray have his head and she waited.
Then his hands were racing under her body, lifting her hips off of the bed and he was seeking her in a manner that said he'd done it this way before.
His hands moved up her body to grip her breasts and tug at them with tenderness as he grunted and moved in and out against her. It was the first time she'd given herself this way and Marcy found it pleasantly, and surprisingly, satisfying. She was getting less than all of Ray, but the pressure of his belly against her sore buttocks compensated for that and she liked the way he would pull at her nipples.
"Oh! Oh! Ray, Ray," she moaned. "Baby, it's soooo good." And he renewed his efforts, making it even better.
Ray stayed with her until dawn that night and Marcy was taken on a sexual ride such as she had forgotten existed. She and Ray rang all the changes they could think of, acting the way she had with Donny, when they'd gone through his marriage manual, trying all the positions.
And Ray stayed with her every night during the week she was in New York. They never got involved again in the many byways of sex as they had the first night, but Marcy didn't have any room to complain when she boarded a plane for Florida; since, after spanking her and making use of his favorite position, he had always been ready to kiss her body, particularly the wettest parts and then have her in the steadily drumming rhythm that she had recalled from the first night they'd gone to bed, before she was discovered and started on the trip to stardom.
And now, as the big jet touched down in Florida, at Miami, she was deep in thought. She knew she'd have fun with Johnny, but that he wasn't what she wanted as a husband. She'd had just as much fun in bed with Ray as she did with Johnny and she knew she wouldn't even consider Ray as a husband.
What she wanted was a man who would never let her forget that he was a man; who would be tender and get her hot, but who would force her to adjust to him, rather than the other way around. And who would be the boss both in and out of bed, who would tell her what to do when she knew she needed to be told.
But, should she stay with Johnny while she looked for the right man; or should she ask for a divorce and have more freedom in her search?
She claimed her luggage and had a redcap carry it to a cab, and walked after him so lost in thought that she almost didn't feel the hand on her elbow or hear the familiar voice that said Hi. And when she turned her head, it took her a minute to realize who she was looking at. But they were finally no mistaking the sparkling gray eyes of Donny Jones.
For a long minute, they looked at each other and then they flew into each other's arms. As his lips closed on hers, Marcy felt an electric shock flow through her from the tip of her toes to her scalp. She'd never been affected like that by a kiss and she clung to Donny in amazement. Even Johnny's kisses hadn't set sparks to flowing within her. In fact, she'd never had a kiss excite her so.
"What are you doing in town, Marcy?"
"I ... Johnny's making a film and I came down to join him. He's staying here somewhere." The kiss still had her reeling, as if she were drunk.
"Oh," Donny seemed disappointed. "Then you don't have time for a drink with me, if your husband's expecting you?"
"But, he's not ... I got through a TV show early and came down. He thinks I'm going to arrive tomorrow. And I'd love to have a drink with you." She signalled to the redcap and told him to follow them and forget about the cab, when Donny said he had his car outside.
"What are you doing at the airport?"
"I just saw a man off, a fellow who's a friend and business associate." He stored her bags in the trunk of his Mustang and went to open the door for her. But Marcy took his arm and looked at him. Instantly he drew her close and kissed her again.
Once more there was an electric shock and this time Donny ran his hands down her back and started kneading the firm flesh of her buttocks as he pressed her closer to him. Involuntarily Marcy's hips began to weave against him and when they pulled apart, after a long kiss, she was breathing heavily. Both of them were very aware of the other's reaction to the kiss.
Marcy felt she had to break the spell, so she asked: "What are you doing now, Donny?"
"I'm still painting. But I've been working for an advertising agency and living in Miami for two years. However, I think that's over."
He broke into a broad smile. "The fellow who just left has a good gallery in New York and he's going to give me a one-man show. So, I may be able to go back to painting fulltime."
Marcy looked at him in appreciation. "You never told me I was dating an .artist."
"I never told anyone, except people who knew art. I was scared that if I told people in Palmville they'd say I was good when I was a long way from it, and I might have believed them and stopped developing."
Maxcy nodded, then asked him what type of and pop art."
"A combination; of abstraction, realisticness and of art."
"Will you use me for a model?"
"I only paint nudes when I do women now," he grinned at her.
"So? What would you be seeing you haven't seen before?"
They both chuckled and then Donny asked: Do you want to go to a bar; or to my place, where you can see some of the stuff that'll be in the show? After all, when you see what I'm doing, you might not want to model for me."
Marcy didn't have to think twice before deciding his place was fine and so, five minutes later, they were entering the combination studio and apartment.
Marcy looked at the paintings on the wall and gasped: "Donny! They're ... they're tremendous. Can I buy one?"
"Which one?"
Slowly Marcy walked around the room, inspecting the canvasses while Donny mixed drinks for them. There was a haunting, alien appeal to his more recent works that reminded her of nightmares; but the picture she kept returning to was in an entirely different style.
It was a picture of a young girl, trying very hard to look unconcerned as she stepped out of her panties, and avoided letting her eyes fall on the boy who lay nude on a cot in the background. It was obvious from the picture that she was very concerned about what she was doing though, worry and apprehension were stamped on her face and the lines of her body.
And the picture was so engrossing to Marcy that she wasn't aware of Donny standing beside her until he touched her arm with the glass and said: "I did that the morning after you left me the first time."
Marcy thrilled at the suggestion that she had, perhaps, been the inspiration for such beauty. "How much do you want for it?"
"I won't sell it. But I might give it to you; as a belated wedding present."
Marcy took his arm in hers and pressed against him in gratitude. At the touch of her breast on his arm, Donny sat his drink down, took hers from her hand and deposited it on the table and looked at her, while Marcy licked her lips in anticipation.
Then he pulled her tight against him and crushed her lips under his. Marcy slid her arms around his neck and returned the kiss avidly. But when Donny reached into her jacket and tried to pull her blouse from under her skirt, she tried to push him away.
She didn't know why she did so, because she wanted him more than she'd ever wanted anyone, but something made her twist her head so he was no longer kissing her and whisper: "Don't, Donny."
Donny wasn't to be denied however. He held her close while he kissed her neck and stroked her back. Then his fingers fumbled with the hook to her bra and a minute later he was cupping one of her breasts in his hand. And, as he touched her naked flesh, Marcy gave a sudden push and freed herself. Displaying a calmness she didn't feel, she retrieved her drink and sat on a long, low, couch.
She could tell Donny was angry at himself from the way he walked to the record player. He started to load some records and then, with a sudden start, set the albums aside and picked different ones. And then the music Marcy had played the night she'd lost her virginity filled the room.
Slowly Donny crossed to her, sat beside her and began to stroke her back, sipping his drink while they listened to the music.
Marcy was glad she still had the power to excite him, and she wondered how much control over him she had. She decided to find out. So she slowly opened her jacket, slipped out of it and curled her legs up under her, letting the skirt ride up to reveal half of her thigh.
They finished their drinks, set the glasses to one side, then she let Donny pull her to him and kiss her. At first it was a simple kiss and Marcy relaxed in Donny's arms. But, before long, his tongue started seeking entrance into her mouth and his hand dropped to her knee.
Marcy smiled to herself as she thought of how nice his hand felt and she parted her teeth and took his tongue. But she wasn't prepared for what happened next.
Without any warning, Donny pushed her back onto the couch and fell between her thighs. His sudden action caused her skirt to fall back until it rested at the top of her thighs and his hand burrowed its way into her panties.
Marcy tried to evade him, but Donny wasn't to be denied. His hand touched her demandingly, forcing her to respond to him; and, involuntarily, she did. But she still worked to free her mouth and when she had done so, she whispered: "Donny, please, don't."
"Why?"
"I don't want to."
He laughed in her face. "Sure! You don't want to. Maybe you don't want to admit that you do, but you want to. You haven't forgotten how well you liked it before with me. So why don't you stop playing games?" He massaged her breasts as he spoke and Marcy found her struggles to stop him growing weaker.
And, suddenly she didn't want to stop him. Because she did remember how good he was. And because he was being the way she wanted her men to be demanding. Still, she didn't want him to think she was a pushover. She was, she realized, but she wanted to make him think he'd forced her if they went to bed.
So she tried again to get away from him, thrashing her hips and pushing at him with all her strength. And then he slapped her.
"I've never raped a girl yet, but there's a first time for every thing."
"Would you really rape me?" she asked.
"I don't want to," he replied, "But, if you don't cooperate; I will."
"All right. Let me up and I'll undress." Donny watched her closely as she stripped, and when she was clad in only her panties he hurried to get out of his own clothes. The sight of him naked, made her even more eager to receive him.
Without bothering to use any more preliminaries he forced her onto her back and moved to her, driving deep and grinding his lips on hers as he took her. His hands gripped her breasts harshly, and Marcy moved under him, churning her lips as he bore into her, making her match him.
And when the explosion came, it wasn't just a world, but an entire solar system and Marcy cried with happiness.
Gently Donny dried her tears away and asked her what was wrong.
"I had forgotten just how well I liked it with you, darling." Donny looked at her in amazement, then wrapped his arms around her and, after burying his face in her stomach, cried like a baby.
"Will you ever be able to forgive me, Marcy? For acting like I did. I must have been crazy, loving you and treating you like I did."
Marcy stroked his cheek, then lifted his head and kissed him. "Why shouldn't I forgive you? I love you, too."
"You don't mean it?"
"Of course I do. I know that Johnny was a mistake. I knew it weeks ago. Now I know who the right man is for me." She pulled away from him and started telling him about the life she'd led since leaving him in Pensacola three years ago. She told him everything: about the first movie she'd made, about Jean, about the night with Frankie and Roy, about the nights with all the men or women she'd taken to bed.
Then she waited for a reaction to her recitation, but all she got was: "Do you have a reason for telling me that?"
"Yes. You said you loved me. I just wanted you to know the facts before you made a decision."
"A decision. A decision on what?"
Marcy grinned at him. "Do you know what year this is?"
"Sure. 1964. What's that got to do with it?"
"It's leap year, silly. I'm asking you if you'll marry a hot pants little bitch who can't stay out of the wrong beds and who doesn't know anything but sex and show business."
Donny yelled out his reply. "Sure! Sure! I don't know anything but sex and painting.
"I can paint while you're being a star. And sex is enough for the rest of the time; and I can keep you so satisfied you won't have the energy to wander into the wrong beds any more."
"If it isn't," Marcy said. "We can learn something else to do together. like water skiing."
"Or building boats in a bottle?' 'Donny countered and they both laughed.
Then, Marcy turned serious. "I'm not acting now, Donny."
"So who's painting," he replied, reaching for her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Marcy had gone to the apartment where Johnny was staying and had had a long talk with him; discovering that he, too, was beginning to have doubts about the wisdom of their marriage.
"Then you wouldn't mind calling it quits?" she asked.
"No. Not as long as we can do it in a friendly fashion. And not as long as I can stay your friend. Because, I do love you in a way. Not the way a man and women need to love to make a marriage work though."
Marcy kissed him gently and returned to her chair. "You'll always be a very special friend of mine, Johnny. And I know you and Donny'll like each other."
They spent another two hours discussing details who would get the divorce, where, on what grounds. Then, as Marcy was getting ready to leave, Johnny asked her for one more favor.
"What?"
* * *
"I never told you before, because I knew it would hurt you. I can't have children. And I know you want them. Since I can't be a father, could I at least be godfather to one of the kids you and Donny have?"
"We'll even name one of them after you. It may make people talk. But I'll insist that Donny let me do it."
"You can persuade him, I'm sure," Johnny replied. And they chuckled. Then Marcy leaned over and kissed Johnny lightly on the lips.
"Thank you," she whispered as she left the apartment and began to think of how rosy her future was at the time.
And, when she got back to Donny's place, she found he'd been thinking too. "Maybe you'd better stay away, Marcy," he told her at the door.
"You haven't changed your mind about me, have you?" Marcy asked, with a false not of gaiety in her voice.
"No. But I'd hate to get you involved in a scandal that might hurt your career. And, if we keep seeing each other while you and Johnny are still married, it might cause a scandal."
"But it won't. Because I can leave any time I want to for Arkansas. I talked to Johnny and he agreed not to contest the suit. So, after three months, I'll file suit charging incompatibility, and, as soon as it's granted, we can get married."
Donny looked at her tenderly for a moment, then swept her into his arms and kissed her soundly. "You don't know how happy that makes me."
"Here's another thing that might make you happy. If my being a star interferes with our marriage; or it looks like you might become Mr. Marcy Lennox, I'm going to retire and become just another housewife.
"Because, I'd much rather be the one with a famous mate."
Donny's arms were still around her and now they slipped down to her waist and moved under her jacket and blouse, where they unhooked her bra. Then his hands were cupped gently over her large breasts as Marcy pressed her lips eagerly to his and tugged at his earlobes.
Donny's fingers flexed against her breasts as his tongue crept out and slid over her lips, moving around and around them slowly. Deep in the recesses of her mind, Marcy noted that her hips were beginning to shift against his and she knew she was going to enjoy her life as Donny's wife.
Her nipples were puckered now, risen hard and straining against his palms and her breasts were getting tauter with every touch of Donny's experienced fingers. They stood there, just inside the door and ground their lips together in the fiercest kiss Marcy had ever received and then Donny moved his hands from her skin and opened her jacket, tossing it into a nearby chair when it was off.
Marcy pulled away from him. "Let me get undressed now, darling. Then, I want to undress you." Donny slipped his arms around her, picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, where he set her back on her feet and moved to the bed so he could watch her.
Slowly, with deliberate gestures, but still without hesitating, Marcy reached for the buttons on her blouse and parted it. Then she shook it and the loosened bra to the floor and let Donny feast his eyes on her bountiful breasts.
She jutted her hips to one side and drew down the zipper, then unfastened the button and let the skirt drop to the floor. All that remained covering her now were her panties, stockings and garter belt.
Then Donny dropped to his knees before her and reached for her. His lips pressed against her stomach and Marcy ran her fingers through his hair as she felt desire run higher in her. She tugged at Donny's earlobes and he looked up and smiled at her. "May I finish the job?" he asked and Marcy nodded, moving to sit on the bed.
Donny reached up and unhooked one of her stockings from the garter belt, then kissed her leg as he drew the wispy nylon down the flowing curves and off. A second later he had repeated the performance with the other leg, and was slipping his hands into her panties to undo her garter belt.
When it was off, he took hold of her panties and rolled them down until Marcy had to raise her buttocks from the bed to let them be drawn to her thighs. Donny peeled them off and resumed kissing her legs, moving higher and higher on her thighs until he reached the top.
With a little sob, Marcy took his head in her hands and directed it. His lips touched her and his tongue went wild, racing over her until she gasped and collapsed backwards onto the bed, shook by an explosion that matched any she had ever had in intensity
And, when she'd recovered, she insisted that Donny sit on the bed while she undressed him. She planted her plump buttocks in his lap and kissed him while she worked his shirt open and off; then slipped to the floor and removed his shoes and socks. Her hands trembled with excitement as she opened his trousers and pulled them off.
Now he was clad only in his shorts and they did nothing to hide how he was reacting to her. Marcy pulled them hurriedly off and pressed him down onto the bed, then stretched out beside him.
Her mouth kissed his avidly for a long time, then slipped away to cover his face with wet kisses that gradually moved to his neck. She kissed his shoulders, his chest, his belly and began on his legs, covering both of them with tiny kisses that caused him to twitch on the bed as she worked.
"Marcy! Please!" he gasped and suddenly he was trapped in the moist warmth of her mouth and she used all of the experience she'd had with this type of lovemaking to build him up to the greater heights he'd ever reached. "Ohohohohoh," he moaned as she finished.
Then his hands were under her arms, pulling her over him until he could seal his mouth to hers and drive his tongue into her mouth. Eagerly Marcy rolled onto her back and drew her legs up until her knees were resting on her breasts and her heels were flat against her buttocks.
"Come on, Donny," she breathed and he hastened to comply, moving over her and sinking completely into her heated body. Marcy's hands closed on his buttocks and tried to drag him deeper and he started moving at an ever increasing tempo while she rocked her pelvis frantically under him, giving him thrills equal to those she was receiving as they stormed against each other and started uttering incoherencies that drove them on to greater efforts.
Donny's hands slipped under her, cupped her buttocks and lifted her from the bed, letting only her shoulders touch. "Yes, yes, YES!" Marcy screamed and then she bit at his shoulder as it became so intense she couldn't stand it.
On and on they drove at each other, moving fast at times and then slowing down the tempo to where there was barely a perceptible motion.
And, when they finally couldn't go any longer, Marcy noticed that they'd been giving each other their best for two hours and she was so amazed that she hugged Donny with all of her remaining strength.
Then he got out of bed and picked up a sketch pad from the floor.
"What are you going to do?" Marcy asked and he grinned until she pleaded with him to tell her.
"I'm going to do a sequel to the painting you liked so much," he replied. "One that shows the girl when she and her boy friend are finished."
Marcy smiled at him and pursed her lips in a kissing motion, while he let the pencil flash over the paper. It only took him twenty minutes or so to rough in the drawing and Marcy giggled as she saw how well he'd caught the contented expression that had been on her face.
"You really are marvelous," she whispered to him as she stood behind him, looking over his shoulder. "And, I'm going to give you a reward for it." She went back to the bed and flopped down on her belly.
"Do you remember what you wanted to do the second time I was with you; what I said 'No' to ? "
Donny looked at her saucy buttocks and gulped as the memory came back to him. "Y ... yes," he muttered.
"Well, I'm not going to say 'no' now." His body reacted as if he'd been away from women for weeks. Slowly he sat beside her on the bed and kissed the back of her neck.
Marcy shivered as one of his hands crept under her and closed over her breasts, squeezing it rhythmically. Then his weight was on her and she braced herself for the pain she knew was going to come. But Donny delayed and let his other hand slip under her and down to the center of her passion.
Expertly he manipulated her until she was on fire once again. Then he reached over and opened the drawer of the bedside table, taking out a contraceptive and a jar of Vaseline.
A few seconds went by and Marcy suddenly felt him probing at the entrance to her body. His hands were on her body once more, stroking and fingering her and she grew impatient and urged him to go ahead.
Flaming pain tore at her as he breached the narrow opening and she whimpered in pain, causing him to stop. A moment passed and the pain receded. To her surprise, Marcy discovered that she liked him being wedged into her the way he was.
"Donny," she whispered, "I want it too, now."
Slowly he pressed forward and the pain was no longer with her, only a dull glow of fire that grew brighter. And then he was completely embedded in her and moving gently, pressing against her buttocks as he sought relief.
His hands on her body worked feverishly and Marcy felt her own breath become shorter and harsher as he took her. "Oh, Donny, it's good! she cried, just before he stiffened.
Hurriedly he withdrew from her and her hands bared him in frantic haste. "Give it to me the other way," she begged as she rolled onto her back and he hurried to obey.
His mouth came down on her breast and she breathed in passion as she guided him home. "Oh, baby, it's wonderful with you," she moaned as he started moving once more.
Her arms and legs locked around him and she stroked his head as he sucked at her breasts, tugging at the nipples with his lips. He stopped his motion and let her churn her hips relentless under him until she gasped and felt him drain himself into her at the same time that worlds exploded for her.
And then she remembered something. "Do you want children?" she asked.
"Lots and lots of them," Donny replied as he lay his head on her heaving breast.
"That's good," Marcy murmured. "Because, if we don't make a baby that time, I'll be surprised as hell."
"Do you mean ... why didn't you tell me? I could have taken precautions," Donny blurted, raising himself and looking into her face.
"Who wanted you to take precautions?" Marcy said. "Besides, the way you affect me, I can't think of things like that until it's too late."
"Well, at least, I'm going to marry you," he answered. "So I guess it's all right if you get pregnant."
"Anything that you do to me is all right," Marcy replied. "Anything at all!"
Her arms tightened around Donny's shoulders, drawing him back down to her, and Marcy knew that what she'd just said was true. Now that she'd found the strong man she'd been searching for, the loneliness was swiftly leaving her life and she knew that she could begin fulfilling her role as a woman, rather than that of a sex symbol.
"Would you love me if my breasts weren't as big as they are?" she asked shyly, holding his head against one of her still taut mounds of flesh.
"I fell in love with you the first time I saw you," Donny replied. "You were only 14 then, and your breasts were just starting to be visable.
"But it's not your body that I fell in love with, it's the girl inside the body, the sweet thing that your are."
His hands slipped down to stroke the tender inside of her thigh and Marcy shivered at his expert touch. Her hands moved over his back, then reached up to tug at his earlobes.
"Show me how much you love me, my darling Donny," she sighed.
"How?" he teased. "Like this?"
"Oh, yes!" she breathed huskily.
"And this?"
"Yes!"
"And this?"
"Oh, God! YES!" she moaned and then his mouth sealed hers shut and he commenced to really prove that he loved her and Marcy surrender to his proof and knew that, finally, she had what she'd been hunting.
