Lors Torberg, the young Swedish author, set a new high for stark sex reality in revealing the relations between many different kinds of women in all walks of life. Rarely have the forces tending towards the degeneration of female morals today, been more graphically described. The book proved extremely popular in Stockholm, but was banned in London within two weeks after its publication by the Chief Censor's Office. 'Teaching the Girls" soon became a popular underground collector's item for libraries of avant garde erotica on the Continent.
In reference to some of the highly unusual situation occurring to the young women in the story, the following observations will be of interest. They are true excerpts from the actual case histories of Dr. S. Fliezell, the prominent psychiatrist.
He states "My patient, Norman C, a young, virile looking school-teacher, was impotent in most types of normal sexual intercourse. However there were certain sex situations where he could have a normal erection. In his own words: 'I found that I could have a normal erection only if I were "teaching" a young girl something about sex which she didn't know before. For instance, a lot of girls don't know that a man's nipples have an erotic, erectile response. I like to teach girls how to massage my nipples and watch the expression on their faces when they see them "erect" just like their own.
'I .actually taught one girl how to be a real good cock-teaser. I trained her to lick with her tongue right near my pecker, along my bush-hair, and then to tickle my balls as well. Then I taught her to take my dick in her mouth a number of different ways.
'Most of the time she'd begin licking my head like an ice-cream cone, from the bottom up. When she finally took it in her mouth, she would make it seem better than her vagina-she moved it in and out with so much stimulation. She'd build up the sensation until I generally shot my wad right down her throat. I trained her to swallow the whole load, to really drain the last drop of sperm right out of my cock!'"
The reader should experience a greater knowledge of perverted sexual behavior from reading this novel. If this leads to greater restraint and self-discipline in these matters, it cannot but help having an all-around beneficial effect.
It is from this standpoint that Continental Classics presents the original and unexpurgated version of this novel. It is recommended only for the graduate student and mature adult reader.
A. L. Saunders May, 1969 New York City
CHAPTER ONE
As Nikki Terrell inclined her attractive dark-blonde head in a warm come hither smile, her lush, voluptuous breasts and shapely hips magnetized her customer. Nikki had a reputation as the "call girl with a gimmick", and as the eager "John" approached her, she wondered how to make it a quickie. She had just received a phone call which made it impossible to let him linger in her cozy Village apartment.
She pulled off her pink sweater and saw his eyes go round as he took the fullness of her braless, tip-tilted breasts. He was a stocky, well-built man called Jack. He thrust his face between her swaying breasts, greedily mouthing the jutting crimson nipples. As his muscular hands cupped and kneaded her generous buttocks, Nikki decided on the gimmick.
"Let's take a bath together, Jack honey," she murmured as she unbuttoned his shirt and loosened his belt.
When they were naked, Nikki followed Jack into the tub full of warm water. Jack began to burn with fiery desire as she sensuously began to soap his naked body, finishing with his loins. She sponged off the lather, covering his chest and waist with quick, exciting kisses. Breathing heavily, Jack clutched and caressed the full delight of her breasts as they floated before him in the soapy water. Her erect nipples bobbed, blushing between his manipulating fingers.
Nikki's blonde head suddenly ducked low, and his throbbing, prick was in the warmer, more velvety moistness of her mouth. Her curling lips, vibrant tongue and bobbing head blended into a fabulous, exciting rhythm. Jack clutched her hair, then a groan came from him as his body arched convulsively as she intensely sucked his cock. He let go of Nikki's hair and splashed erotically as the intense pleasure of spurting scum fountained through his threshing loins into her sucking mouth.
"Too bad you rushed the party, Jack lover," Nikki said as she patted him dry with a turkish towel "Stay longer next time," she smiled as she eased the swiftly satisfied Jack out the apartment door.
Nikki Terrell's thoughts flew to the phone talk with her madam, Anna. She had explained she was busy with Jack and asked Anna how much time she had.
"Uh ... about forty-five minutes. All right?" Anna answered.
"Yeah, I guess so."
"You guess so? Listen, kid, what kind of an attitude is that? If you don't want to take this one on, just say the word and I'll give some other girl a break. You aren't the only college-type hooker in town, you know."
A shudder rippled up Nikki's spine. College-type hooker. How she hated even the sound of it! But Anna was right, of course, and no hooker of any kind-including collegiate types-could afford to let scruples stand in the was of sheckels. Wherever it came from, money was still money.
"Anna, I'm sorry. Forty-five minutes-I'll be ready."
"That's my girl. But like I said, this one is important. Extra special, so do your best to be in top form."
"Uh-huh. Can do. And thanks, Anna."
"Have fun, dearie. G'night."
There was an odd little giggle and Nikki hung up wondering what the strange noise signified. Anna wasn't the giggling sort. In fact, Anna was one of the more discreet madams in town and she took her whoring business seriously. So that tiny chuckle of hers sounded a bit incongruous.
Except for one thing-and again Nikki felt a shudder of distaste seize her. Was her visitor one of those freaky characters who would except all sorts of weird fucking stunts? Was that what Anna's little laugh portended?
Nikki scowled. But whatever the guy might be like, there wasn't much she could do about it. She would have to give him his money's worth of fucking if she wanted to remain on good terms with Anna. She did need the cock business that the hard-working madam sent her way. Living in a modern apartment in the Village was expensive. The cost of college tuition was a big burden for a single girl to shoulder.
Oh, it was rough to have to be a hooker. But there was no other way for her except to fuck for her money. Sure, she could try selling stockings in some department store and go to school at night. But it would take years and years to get her diploma at that slow pace. So peddling her pussy at night was the only means of making a living while carrying a full load of daytime courses.
Anyway, she couldn't stop and moon over it now. The client was coming and she had to get ready for him. Extra special, Anna had said, so the preparations had to be thorough.
Moving quickly but with care, Nikki slipped into the costume in which to receive her paying guest. Not that it was much of a costume, but she looked good in it. Great, actually, unless the mirror was lying to her. A sheer negligee and shiny spike-heeled pumps. All black-tastefully elegant and short curls that always seemed casually wind-blown without ever reaching the point of downright dishevelment. And it presented a delicious contrast to her green eyes and creamy skin.
But the door buzzer was already rasping and she didn't have time to admire herself. With a tingle apprehensive anticipation, she went to the door and tugged it open.
A gasp broke from her lips. A gasp of surprise, of shock. Of dismay and consternation. She knew now what the giggle on the telephone had meant.
Eyes peered at her. Steely blue-gray eyes that penetrated her tissue-thin negligee with a kind of icy approval. Eyes that were big and deep and long-lashed and painted with more makeup than her own. The eyes of a woman ... an extremely beautiful woman.
For a moment Nikki was too stunned to utter a word. The shock of expecting a male and seeing a female was more than she could take. Limply she tood there, unable even to pull together the folds of the negligee that had fallen open.
Then the eyes twinkled in amusement and lost their steeliness. The woman's full-lipped red mouth twisted in a semblance of an appreciative smile. "Nice," she murmured. "Very nice. You are Nikki Terrell, I suppose.
"Uh-huh."
"In that case, aren't you going to ask me in?"
"Oh...." Nikki came to life. "Please forgive me. Do come in, won't you?"
The woman entered and Nikki locked the door. Her moment of astonishment was over, but she still felt somewhat numb. Her breathing still wasn't quite normal. Nor did it make anything easier for her when the woman-taller and heavier than herself grasped her shoulders and looked down into her face. The sensation was overwhelming.
"Nikki...." the woman said softly. "Nikki Terrell. I'm glad to meet you. My name is Paula Jardine."
"I'm please to-" But the words were cut off by the sudden pressure of the woman's mouth.
It wasn't a passionate kiss, just a fleeting gesture of affectionate greeting. And yet-brief as it was-Nikki thought she was going to suffocate. The lips were wet and cloyingly sweet as they opened slightly. The surrounding aura of expensive perfume was intoxicating.
"Well...." The woman stepped back and sank gracefully into an overstuffed chair. "That was a proper introduction, I'd say. Now I'd like a drink, if you've something handy."
"Yes, of course. Scotch, bourbon ... uh...."
"Scotch will do nicely. On the rocks."
At the liquor cabinet, Nikki kept sneaking sidelong glances at the woman. Paula Jardine was certainly impressive. There was a hugeness about her, a ripeness that made her appear positively voluptuous. Her breasts were massive and incredibly firm for a woman obviously on the far side of thirty. Piled high on her head, her painstakingly coiffed auburn hair was like some kind of crown, the majestic symbol of a queen or an empress.
"Nikki...."
"Hmmmmm?"
"Do you like what you're looking at?"
"Uh...." Nikki blushed at having been caught peeking. "You're very beautiful, Paula."
"Beautiful enough to stay?"
"To stay? What do you mean?"
"You know. You weren't expecting a woman. Anna told me you might be somewhat hesitant about entertaining me.
"Oh."
"Well, my dear? What do you say? Shall I get up and leave? I don't want to, but I won't stay if I'm not wanted." Paula's voice took an edge of hardness. "If you send me away, though, I'll be angry. And so will Anna, I'm sure."
Nikki tensed. It sounded almost like a threat. But it was only too apparent that she couldn't back out on this deal. Not if she wanted to keep in good with Anna.
"Your drink, Paula. And please stay, hmmmmm?" The woman nodded knowingly. "Frankly, honey, I had no intention of doing anything but that. But I do prefer the idea of being invited. Now come and sit down." She straightened one shapely leg and pointed the toe of her shoe imperiously. "Here, right in front of me where I can see you."
The gesture was almost regal, and Nikki found herself resenting the auburn-haired creature's authoritative demeanor. But she had to play along, she realized, and now that she had accepted the woman as a client, she had to do her best to please. It was all part of being a good hooker, you had to frig what came along....
On the carpeted floor, Nikki made a few adjustments of the billowing negligee around her body and then peered up with a solicitous gaze. "Is the drink all right?"
"Fine. You're not having one?"
"No. I may do some studying later, so I guess I'd better keep a clear head."
"Studying-ah, yes. Anna told me you were a college girl. I like that. By the way, you'll be getting out soon, won't you? Don't you have a winter vacation coming up?"
"Yes, the Christmas holidays. Why?"
"Just a thought, Nikki. Have you made any plans?"
"For the holidays? No, not especially. I'll probably stay right here and try to make some money. But I don't understand what that has to do with-"
"Hush, dear. All in due time. I may have an interesting proposition for you. Yes, the more I look at you, the more I'm sure of it. You're a little darling, Nikki. Much to precious for some ugly, hairy man's brutal cock to play with. I think you're suited for more exotic frigging pleasures."
"Exotic pleasures? Oh...."
"Pleasures like this." Paula's hands cupped her own breasts and then slid down across her belly. "And this. Don't you think I'm much nicer than any man? Come, darling, come close and show me that you do think so."
Nikki trembled. Paula's limbs stretched and parted languorously. And yet there was a decisive demand in the movement. The thighs and calves gleamed ripely in their nylon sheaths, and their encircling motion was a shade impatient.
The voluptuous body wriggled. With a tiny whimper of surrender, Nikki bent her head. This was her job. She had to do it. She had to give joy to this woman. Whatever kind of hump-joy that was asked of her.
Only it wasn't being asked, it was being demanded. The fleshy thighs moved arrogantly. Nikki's hands glided up the smooth skin; there was a lurch, a tug, and then the fragile panties were off and out of the way.
"Your mouth. Give me your mouth-kiss my cuntlips!"
Nikki obeyed. The musky softness of Paula's cunt seemed to reach out and encompass her. If filled her nostrils, her mouth, it engulfed her entire body. It slid forward, crushing itself against her face and drawing her into its vortex of moist perfumed silkiness.
"Ah, yes. Mmmm, yes, Nikki, you're going to work out just fine. It will be a lovely vacation for you."
"Ummmm ... vacation?"
"Be quiet, honey. Just go on licking my pussy a little while like that."
Nikki went on. But there was nothing else she could do now; the woman's hand had reached out to grasp her hair and the tightly entwined fingers were inexorable. The thick thighs closed around her head like the jaws of a velvet vise.
Paula went on talking. About a two-week vacation on an island in the Caribbean. All expenses paid-plus a thousand dollars. Wasn't that a happy way for a college girl to earn money. Wouldn't it be fun to bask in the sun all day?
Paula's smooth, shapely thighs released their grip for a moment and Nikki raised her lovely blonde head as if to answer.
But Paula's strong willful hands urged Nikki's blonde head to her large, strawberry-nippled breasts. Nikki sensed she wanted the full treatment and began to mouth her ample, curved tits. The crimson nipples hardened and jutted between her caressing lips as her tongue flashed from breast to breast. Small satisfied wheezes began to come from Paula's heaving chest.
Paula spread her lustful cunt and Nikki felt her hands being led to Paula's pussy. Nikki's hands crept to the tenderness of her inner cuntlips, and Paula's satisfied little squeals rewarded Nikki's clever, more intimate touches on her clitoris. As Nikki's fingers began a rhythmic gliding in and out of her cunthole, Paula's white buttocks quivered with desire.
As Paula began to moan with lust, Nikki quickly brought her moist lips to Paula's pleasure spot, her erect clitoris. Her tongue vibrated with passionate lewdness and her warm mourn made Paula's cunt flash with mounting thrills. Then there was a moment when Paula's limbs stopped working. A joyous, throaty, cry broke from her and she shuddered as surging, uncontrollable peak ecstasy swept her threshing twat.
She raised Nikki's blonde head and shrieked happily. "You must come with me darling. Now I won't take 'no' for an answer. And you can have $1500 dollars...."
Nikki nodded weakly as she assented to Paula's proposition.
CHAPTER TWO
The blue eyes in Burt Nestler's ruggedly handsome face were concentrating on sipping up the last of the rum collins the maid had smuggled to him. It was the only sensible thing to do at high noon, when the breezes stopped and the sun beat down mercilessly on St. Lazure, the resort island 300 miles east of Puerto Rico. He shifted his virile, muscular body on die comfortable wicker couch. The blank paper in his typewriter stared at him accusingly.
He had been able to knock off promising, off-Broadway plays in his Village garret in the States easily enough. Maybe being a bought and paid for prick, to put it bluntly, was slowing him down to nothing. Instead of making his way by pounding a typewriter, he was making it by a different kind of pounding-in a cunt.
Still, it was better than no place at all. Here on this little map-speak called St. Lazure he didn't have to worry about scrounging money for room rent, anyway. Or food, either. He was well provided with all the necessities of life and most of the luxuries, he had to admit. No, his only worry here on St. Lazure was the provider herself. The woman owned him especially his cock and balls. Brenda.
Oh, she didn't exactly own him, of course, but Burt wasn't fooling himself on that score. Until he finished his book-if he ever finished his book-his body and soul belonged to Brenda Kenyon. To do with as she wished.
Not that Brenda cared much one way or the other about his soul. It was his body that she was paying for. His very tangible body. His 29-year-old body with the huge prick and balls to match that could make her scream in rhythm with the jouncing bedsprings. It was hers to command and even though she wasn't the commanding type, he was well aware of who outranked whom in their relationship.
Actually though, Burt had no real cause for complaint. Brenda was picking up the tab and she had every right to the companionship, plus fucking that her money was buying. Without her backing he wouldn't have been nearly as far along on the book as he was.
Only there was a difference between sponsorship and ownership that Brenda just didn't care about. In recent days her demands upon his hump energy had been exorbitant. Brenda Kenyon-one hundred and forty pounds of middle-aged female cunt-was a real ball-buster if ever there was one. How could a fellow find creative inspiration with a pecker-draining old bag like that hanging over him?
Now, for instance. She would be coming in soon. He knew what she would look like. If he closed his eyes he could see her against the backdrop of his eyelids. Tan. Plump. Hair the color of blonde silver. Mountainous breasts and solid legs. Broad hips that wagged when she walked, proclaiming a never-ending need for fulfillment. She walked as if she'd like to be screwed.
Brenda always looked like she'd like to be screwed.
In all fairness, though, she wasn't really ugly and it made Burt feel just a bit disloyal to think about her so disparagingly. She was getting older, true enough, and was carrying more poundage than she should have. But her weight was nicely distributed and it gave her a certain carnal appeal.
What bugged him, actually, was the fact that Brenda never knew when to stop in her frigging demands. Or even slow down. And too much of anything was bound to get dull after a while. That was the trouble with Brenda. Too much of fucking....
"Burt?"
Okay, so she was here now and he'd better cut out all this wailing and moaning and gnashing of teeth. The time for work had ended and now it was time for play. Although there wasn't much difference, considering just how exhausting Brenda's kind of frigging play often was.
"I'm in here," he called.
"May I come in, dear? If you're working hard, I don't want to disturb you."
Burt made a face. As if he could keep this cock-crazy dame out. If his typewriter had been clacking there might have been some excuse. But sharp-eared Brenda had probably been listening downstairs and she knew he had been loafing.
"Come on in."
The connecting door between their bedrooms opened and he smelled her perfume, spicy, sexy, mixed with the woman-scent of sensuality. His body went momentarily rigid as her fingers toyed with the hairs on the back of his neck.
"I've got something for you, Burt. Look. A nice cool rum punch just for you."
"Oh? Thanks."
She placed the glass on the desk and sidled around to stand beside him. "Are you going to keep on working?"
"No, I guess not"
"Good. Let's chat awhile, huh?"
He watched her lean back against the desk, just a big piece of ass in a loose wrapper type of garment The flimsy material didn't conceal much. And besides, he was only too well acquainted with whatever was out of sight The heavy torso and the meaty thighs. The jutting breasts with the dark-circled nipples that seemed to stand up and call for attention. He knew that gross body as well as he knew his own.
"Chat? About what? Brenda, you know I'm not interested in island gossip. Anything that goes on in St. Lazure can't be very exciting, can it?"
"Oh, don't be so blase, dear. As a matter-of-fact, there is something new. The old Villa Pleasance estate has been sold and it's being renovated."
"Villa Pleasance? Sounds like a book I once read."
"Don't be silly. It's over on the other side of the island. And it's the biggest piece of property in all St. Lazure. The house must have a dozen rooms at least."
"Okay, so who bought it?"
"A woman named Paula Jardine."
"Rich, huh?"
"Of course. She might even have more money than me.
"Oh?" Burt grinned. "You mean you might lose your social status? You figure shell take over?"
"Hmph! Let her try. Just let her try. I'm the number one hostess in St. Lazure and everybody knows it."
"Hey. Calm down. Brenda, what are you getting yourself in a stew about? Sure, you're number one. Between you and Michele Duval you've got the whole island wrapped up."
"Michele...." Brenda sniffed disdainfully. "How dare you class me with that woman! She's just a tramp who happened to strike it rich, that's all."
"Could be. But that nightclub of hers is the only interesting place on the island."
"Nightclub-oh, sure. It's nothing but a high-priced whorehouse, that's all. Nightclub indeed. Anyway, Michele doesn't have much to do with our social life except in a commercial way, of course. But that Jardine woman is a different story. She's important in New York, from what I understand. Gets her name in the gossip and scandal columns a lot."
"Well, that's nothing to gripe about. Maybe she'll give a shot in the arm to this old palce. Brenda, how long will it be before she gets here?"
"Not long. Around Christmas time, I think. Why? Are you anxious to meet her?"
"Oh, not in the way you're making it sound. But it will be nice to have some new faces around. And it's my opinion that you ought to be friendly to the woman. The island is too small for social rivalry."
"I suppose you're right. Everybody will be bowing and scraping to her, I'm sure. Just because she's new."
"Oh, you're taking it too seriously. Why should-"
"Burt, listen, I've got an idea. Oh, a wonderful idea. Do you remember my telling you about Diane Gaylord?"
"The movie star? Sure. You were buddies, weren't you?"
"Not exactly. But I did do her a favor when she was down and out, and we've kept in touch ever since."
"Okay. But what-"
"Don't you see? I'll invite Diane for the holidays. Shell come-unless she's tied up making a picture, of course. But if she can get away, shell come. She owes it to me. And with a famous Hollywood star as my guest, nobody will pay much attention to that Paula Jardine person."
Burt shrugged. It was evident that Brenda was getting pretty worked up about this thing. And it was hardly more than a tempest in a teacup. But he was all for it. The island could use a little action. A society playgirl and now a movie star. Why not? It might be fun.
"Brenda, that's brilliant. A great idea. Why don't you get a letter off right now?"
"Now?" She smiled lewdly. "It can wait till later."
"But you ought to-"
"Shhh. Drink your rum punch, darling. You may be needing the strength. I've felt kind of restless all the time you were working. And now that I've decided what to do about Paula Jardine, well, let's take care of my restlessness with a soothing application of your cock shall we?"
Burt gulped his drink and realized that Brenda's one-track mind was back on its track again. Or its well-worn groove, rather. Even the scent emanating from her body had changed now. She smelted like a jungle animal in heat.
"Uh ... Brenda. Shall we go into your room?"
"No. Let's stay right here."
He swung around in his chair and she stood in front of him. Her hands moved rapidly, touching a button here, a hook there, and the garment she was wearing crumpled to the floor. Nothing more had to be done. Brenda was stark naked.
Burt's head went dizzy. As often as he had seen that body, it still affected him. In spite of himself, he wanted it. Sweat broke out on his neck, there was a clogged feeling in his throat. That naked body was sheer cunt personified.
And it was a trap.
It would devour him, he knew. Her twat would crush him and sap his strength and finally destroy him. But he was helpless against its obscene wiles.
He reached for her.
"Not yet, Burt. You haven't finished your drink."
Again he gulped the liquor. She was standing close to him, almost touching him. From her warm skin the musky cunt-fragrance was rising and making his nostrils flare and twitch.
His fingers itched to seize her. To dart out and pounce upon those enormous tits. Untouched as yet, the nipples had already stiffened remarkably. Her waist and hips swayed slightly and he recognized that she too was finding it difficult to keep her desire for his cock in check.
He finished the drink quickly. "All gone. Now I'm full of energy and rum and getting a horny hard-on!"
She bent, leaning against him and gagging his mouth with the softness of her tit. At the same time she took his empty glass and set it out of the way. Then-quivering at the pressure of his lips-she began to pant and undulate and wriggle as if a motor had been started inside her.
The breasts held him captive. He struggled to lift his head and at last succeeded. The slash of her mouth was a crimson smear. Her eyes were misted over. He could almost see the steamy passion that had her in its grip.
"Brenda ... now?"
"Ummmm?"
"The bed? Now?"
"Ahhh...."
And he was up out of the chair as she yanked at him, raising him, practically carrying him. They reached the bed and tumbled down upon it in a frenzy.
Somehow, even in moments like this, he hated her. Or perhaps it was always in moments like this. He felt stifled, defeated, vanquished and yet it was only his mind and not his body. His work. His play. His lack of money. His dependence on her. Those were the things that made him suffer.
Suffer"!
Oh brother! There were hands on him, hands tearing at his clothing. But they were more like claws, predatory blood-tipped claws, and the few clothes he wore didn't have a chance as the sharp nails shredded them.
And there was a blood-red mouth.
A tongue too, hot and moist and pointed like a poniard stabbing his vulnerable flesh. For a little while he went limp and gave himself up to the ravages of that tongue. And wherever it touched him the limpness vanished. Then the mouth attacked him, the loose-lipped voracious mouth, and it closed upon his flesh as if it might never let go.
Until-at last-Brenda heaved a ponderous sigh and rolled over on her back. Brenda's hands boldly began to caress his superb, throbbing cock.
She parted her full thighs as Burt decked her. Then wildly lustful as she felt his muscular embrace, she bent a knee with practiced ease and engulfed his maleness in the super-heated, yearning moistness of her thighs ... Burt's loins thrust with a steady, pounding drive as he met the challenge of her grinding hips and belly.
"Give it to me, lover-all the way," she gurgled lewdly.
Burt's sandy hair shook out of his eyes as he jerked his head back in a deep groin. His loins convulsively lunged forward in a final thrust and his whole body trembled as gasts of ecstasy whipped welcome release through him. Brenda shrilled happily as her hips writhed in a frenzied joining of peak Miss with Burt.
"OOh doll, do you have talent!" she cooed gleefully, as she clung to his quivering muscles.
CHAPTER THREE
On the island of St. Lazure, Madame Michele Duval, if not actually the Goddess of Sex, was its high priestess. Her tawny-haired look was that of a sex-kitten who had grown up, and the same might be said of her special Le Club Gala voiced a preference to screw Michele, instead of one of her girls. She always laughingly declined these hot-pants compliments.
She had come to St. Lazure from Paris, many years ago. She was rumored to have gotten her knowledge of every known and unknown variation of fucking first hand in the notorious Place Pigalle, vice-headquarters of Paris. Now she, and Le Club Gala, her combination villa, night-club and girl stable were known throughout the Caribbean. The moneyed jet-set from the States knew that Michele and Le Club Gala could give them the most exquisite refinements in sex, straight, queer, or you name it ... at a price.
But only Michele Duval knew the pessimistic report on her health, and that Gala had lost money last year. One such fact alone would have been enough to make Michele sad. Two-well, that was calamitous. Especially heaped one upon the other. No, it was no picnic for a woman to have so much bad news hit her all at once.
The thing about money, of course, wasn't really so important. Thinking about it, Michele could easily see a way out. She could always put the club up for sale. Although finding a willing buyer might prove a bit difficult unless she played it with her usual amount of caginess.
But the thing about her health was quite a shock. Sure, she had know she was failing for some time now. She had even put off the trip to see the doctor on the mainland just to postpone the irksome knowledge a while longer.
Only she hadn't realized how serious it was. Until today. And all the way back from the mainland, the doctor's voice had pursued her like a ghost foretelling her doom. The tests and X-rays just couldn't be wrong. If Michele Duval didn't slow down she would be a corpse within a year. A beautiful corpse, to be sure, but a corpse nonetheless.
Slow down?
The thought made Michele queasy. She would have to get out of St. Lazure and buy a little chicken farm or something like that. But it would take money. More money than she had. So how could she possibly slow down?
Certainly she couldn't let anyone know of her condition. In order to get a decent price for her combination nightclub and call-house she would have to keep it going at full blast. The winter vacation season was getting under way. No, she couldn't afford to take it easy.
But, by the same token, she couldn't afford to be as active as she had once been. Not with the threat of sudden death hanging over her head.
Oh, well, it made no sense to cry about it. She would manage somehow, just as she always did. And it was good to be back on the island again after that vexing journey to the mainland. In her own house she would find peace. And a little something to sooth her ruffled nerves.
Ah, yes, a little something....
In the cool of her bedroom, Michele wasted no time. She called for Yvette to fix her a tall, frosty drink and then help her undress. Yvette was her second-in-command, a pretty creature who was smart enough to take orders and too smart to question them.
"And what's been happening lately, Yvette? Anything new during my absence?"
"Nothing much. Business is slow. But it will be picking up soon. The vacationers are arriving. It's true about the New York girl."
"Paula Jardine. So she's really coming. I wonder if she'll remember me."
"Of course she will, Michele. How could anybody ever forget you? Of all people I've ever known you're the one who stands out the most."
"Sweet. You're so loyal, Yvette. But I only met Paula Jardine that one time. It was at a party in San Juan."
"She'll remember."
"I hope so. She should, anyway. We left the party together that night. What we did afterward I'm not saying." Michele smiled in recollection. "But it was enough. Enough so that we were more than mere acquaintances."
"Now I'm sure she'll remember you."
"Perhaps. But it was a long time ago. Long before I came here and set up shop on St. Lazure."
"No matter. She'll remember."
"But tell me, Yvette, how is the town taking it? Paula is a pretty well-known person these days."
"Oh, everybody is excited. There's something else too. There's a rumor around that a movie star might be coming. Diane Gay lord imagine. It turns out that she's a friend of Brenda Kenyon, of all people."
"Brenda? That cow? Will wonders never cease? Frankly though, I'm going to treat it as a rumor and nothing more. I'll believe it when I see it come true." Michele stretched and a gently lassitude crept over her naked body. "Yvette? Want to put me to sleep?"
"To sleep?"
"Uh-huh. In that nice way."
"Oh...." Yvette's eyes glistend. "I'd love to. Come, let me make you all nice and-"
"Wait."
"Hmmm?"
"Call Goldie in, will you?"
"Goldie? What for? Why can't you let me-"
"Don't whine, Yvette. Call her."
"Oh, all right."
Yvette went out and returned a moment later. Behind her came the young girl whom Michele had nicknamed Goldie. A native of one of the more distant islands, the girl had copper skin that every so often took on a tinge of rose. Now, in the late afternoon sunlight peeping through the blinds, she actually looked as if some artist had highlighted her coloring with pink.
"Do you want me to stay?" Yvette said glumly.
"Yes dear. And stop sulking. I only want Goldie to stand here and fan me."
"Ohh. You devil." Yvette was suddenly swept up in a new mood. "You just lie there and let me arrange it. I know exactly what to do."
It didn't take long. Michele closed her eyes and then opened them again as she felt the breeze. Goldie was fanning her. On the girl's head was a maid's cap pertly perched. On her feet were patent-leather pumps with high pencil-slim heels. Around her waist was a tiny apron, white and starched and in complete contrast to her dusky skin. Aside from that, Goldie's lovely young body was uncovered.
"Yvette."
"Yes?"
"Now. Love me."
Michele melted in delight as Yvette's lips touched her. A little something, she thought, a little something to relax her and put her to sleep. A little something-just like this. Yvette was so good at it.
The breeze from the fan felt wonderful. Michele reached out and placed her hand on Goldie's thigh in appreciation. It caught her eye and she turned her head slightly to view it more easily, her white hand on the coppery skin. Then her fingers crept upward and disappeared beneath the apron. The girl kept on fanning.
The sensation was sheer ecstasy. The touch of Goldie's hairless flesh was a joy in itself. Michele had insisted that the girl keep herself smooth and clean-shaven even under her armpits and above her pussy; it made her look like a child not yet budded into womanhood.
The other sensation was fine, too. Yvette's fluttering lips were infinitely skilled. Daintily, delicately, they sought and found her cuntlips. Then, as Michele began to writhe, the lips became less delicate. Now there was wild avidity in the way they leeched and clung to her erect clitoris.
Michele's fingers probed, Goldie's moist, hot cunt delicately.
With the fan in her hand, Goldie just stood there. The wave of her arm was her only motion. But her eyelids were partly closed now and her breathing seemed erratic.
Just a bit tired, Michele moved her hand down from under the apron, letting it linger momentarily so that she could see the colorful contrast again. But she could read disappointment in the way the girl's body seemed to go into a kind of drooping posture. Goldie was unhappy, apparently.
"Yvette?"
"MMMM?"
"Let the kid help you."
"Huh? Oh...."
Michele gave the rosy thigh a little spurring pinch. "Go ahead, Goldie. Do you want to?"
"Oh yes, Miss Michele."
There was a flurry of activity at the foot of the bed. With her eyes closed, Michele felt her legs being moved this way and that. Until-as they came to rest-she became a mass of tingling nerve-ends under the two mouths.
Two mouths. Both eager to please one licking her cuntlips, the other nibbling her nipples. It was a good thing she had enough intimate nooks and crannies to go around. Otherwise one would have been left out in the cold and that just wouldn't have been fair. But they seemed to be doing all "Michele?"
"Hmmm? What's the matter, Yvette?"
"I'm getting excited."
"Oh...."
"Don't you want to ... uh...."
"No, dear. Just go on cunt-lapping me as you are."
A small depression settled upon Michele. How she would have loved joining the two of them in a free-for-all frenzied embrace. It would be such fun. But those days were gone forever, now that she had finally accepted the doctor's decree. No, all she could have now was a little something.
But poor Yvette would probably be upset. It wasn't right to leave her hung up like that. There was Goldie, too, to take into consideration.
"Yvette."
"Mmmm?" appreciation. It caught her eye and she turned her head slightly to view it more easily, her white hand on the coppery skin. Then her fingers crept upward and disappeared beneath the apron. The girl kept on fanning.
The sensation was sheer ecstasy. The touch of Goldie's hairless flesh was a joy in itself. Michele had insisted that the girl keep herself smooth and clean-shaven even under her armpits and above her pussy; it made her look like a child not yet budded into womanhood.
The other sensation was fine, too. Yvette's fluttering lips were infinitely skilled. Daintily, delicately, they sought and found her cuntlips. Then, as Michele began to writhe, the lips became less delicate. Now there was wild avidity in the way they leeched and clung to her erect clitoris.
Michele's fingers probed, Goldie's moist, hot cunt delicately.
With the fan in her hand, Goldie just stood there. The wave of her arm was her only motion. But her eyelids were partly closed now and her breathing seemed erratic.
Just a bit tired, Michele moved her hand down from under the apron, letting it linger momentarily so that she could see the colorful contrast again. But she could read disappointment in the way the girl's body seemed to go into a kind of drooping posture. Goldie was unhappy, apparently.
"Yvette?"
"MMMM?"
"Let the kid help you."
"Huh? Oh...."
Michele gave the rosy thigh a little spurring pinch. "Go ahead, Goldie. Do you want to?"
"Oh yes, Miss Michele."
There was a flurry of activity at the foot of the bed. With her eyes closed, Michele felt her legs being moved this way and that. Until-as they came to rest-she became a mass of tingling nerve-ends under the two mouths.
Two mouths. Both eager to please one licking her cuntlips, the other nibbling her nipples. It was a good thing she had enough intimate nooks and crannies to go around. Otherwise one would have been left out in the cold and that just wouldn't have been fair. But they seemed to be doing all "Michele?"
"Hmmm? What's the matter, Yvette?"
"I'm getting excited."
"Oh...."
"Don't you want to ... uh...."
"No, dear. Just go on cunt-lapping me as you are."
A small depression settled upon Michele. How she would have loved joining the two of them in a free-for-all frenzied embrace. It would be such fun. But those days were gone forever, now that she had finally accepted the doctor's decree. No, all she could have now was a little something.
But poor Yvette would probably be upset. It wasn't right to leave her hung up like that. There was Goldie, too, to take into consideration.
"Yvette."
"Mmmm?"
"Can you hear me?"
"Yes."
"Afterward-uh-when you're finished with me in here, it's okay if you take Goldie to your room. You want to?"
"Uh-huh. Love to."
"All right with you, Goldie?"
"Yes, Miss Michele."
Michele quivered as the girl's breathy words tickled her cuntlips. If felt so funny. But there were no more words coming from Goldie's open mouth now and the contact of mouth and cunt was sealed again. Michele reached down to pat the burrowing head with a kind of affectionate caress. And she felt the tiny tongue reply silently with a tender lick on her clitoris. Yes, she was glad that she could give these two darlings some happiness. She only wished she could be truly happy herself. Michele undulated her full asscheeks gently to the sheer pleasure mounting within her twat as Yvette's and Goldie's eager, fresh young lips worshiped the glories of her nude hips and thighs. Goldie was a most talented operator, Michele sharply realized as her tongue seemed to vibrate with an intimate gay melody of love while her lips caressed her sensitive clitoris. Yvette's mouth worked delicately in sweet accompaniment on her asshole.
Michele's glamorous buttocks wove in quicker rhythm, then a throaty sign escaped as her thighs clamped tightly around Goldie's head. Her belly did a sexy dance of its own, the muscles of her torso quivering in ecstatic abandonment as she had a most satisfying, delightful orgasm.
As the ripples of Madame's releasing bliss lessened, the two girls stole quietly from the room. Michele Duval slept.
CHAPTER FOUR
The driver of the two-ton delivery truck gave the tower guard his usual big smile and energetic wave as die main gate swung open electrically. He rolled the rig through easily, not too fast, not to slow. Everything as usual he thought, except you're now minus one, Longwood Women's Correction Center. Courtesy Larry Mills, dare-devil truck driver who also knows a swinging piece of ass when he spots one.
Larry smiled as he visualized the cute, curvy brunette in the swaying van behind him. She'd be flattening those pert, uptilted breasts and sexy buttocks against the little box-and crate bunk he'd made for her. He licked his lips as he told himself she should be getting more grateful by the mile as the truck tooled south. He slowed down about 15 miles from Longwood and shouted back to find out if his private stock of one cute cunt was all right.
"Yeah, Larry. I'm okay."
"Atta girl. It won't be long now."
She shrugged and tried to make herself comfortable among the crates and cartons. She didn't mind how long it took. The longer the ride the better she would like it. Right now she had some heavy thinking to do. It would take time to get herself organized and figure things.
A name, first. Larry could call her baby and that would do for the present. There was no need to give him any more information. But she would be leaving Larry behind too, soon, and she'd best be prepared when that happened.
All right, so she needed a name. Any name. Any name but her real one. From this minute on there would be no more Jenny Gall-and wasn't she glad! There were sure some nicer sounding names in the world than that. Still, the initials weren't so bad and if she kept them maybe she wouldn't feel as if she was losing her identity completely.
J.G.-but not Jenny Gall. What, then? There were hundreds of possibilities. Any would do. But she might as well pick a nice one. Pat. Uh-huh, that was fine. Pat what? How about Pat Mills? Not bad at all.
Hey world, my name is Pat Mills.
Chuckling, she said it over and over again. Pat Mills. And then-as though it had been hers all her-life that was the way she thought of herself. Maybe there had been some kid named Jenny Gall stuck back there behind the grim walls of Longwood Women's Correction Center, but that was in the past now. A happy girl named Pat Mills was off and running.
Clothing, of course, was the next problem. She wouldn't get very far in the denim uniform of the center. But there was a good chance that Larry would help her out. He was pretty hot for her; maybe she could hold out for more then just the ride through the gate. The poor pimple-faced jerk practically had his tongue hanging out for her. And all because she had given him a little squeeze in the right place last week while working in the kitchen when he made his delivery.
The thing to do, then, was to get real chummy with the guy. Make him think she really cared. One way or another, she had to find some clothes so that she could peel off these gray things. Tattletale gray, that was what they were, a dead giveaway when the news of her escape got around.
"Larry?"
"Yeah, baby."
"I'm worried. Not about myself, about you. Won't you be suspected of helping me?"
"Could be. But it's okay. This job was only temporary anyway, and I'm leaving for Philly tomorrow. Matter of fact, that was why I took the chance. Don't worry, baby, I'm in the clear. Nice of you to ask, though."
Pat relaxed. She had said the right thing and now Larry was her buddy. He would help her. Oh, she would have to give him the pay-off fuck he wanted, of course, and it wouldn't be much fun. Boys, as such, didn't interest her. Actually, frigging of any kind didn't give her much of a charge-and she was still waiting for that big miracle to happen, the wild orgasm that lovers in the movies always experienced in glorious Technicolor.
But she would have to play along with Larry, naturally. She owed him that much, and anyway, she had teased him into getting her out in the first place. So now she would have to stop teasing and make good. She would treat Larry right and maybe coax an outfit of clothes out of him.
And then? Well, the direction to head was south. All the way too, just as far as she could go. True, without money she would have to wave her thumb and hope for the best. But the breaks would come. Some old geezer would catch a glimpse of those sexy legs of hers and jam on his brakes. Maybe she was on the very young side, but her body was sure a traffic-stopper.
So, the breaks would come. They always did. The main thing was to recognize and take advantage of them.
There were bad breaks, too, now and then, but they just had to be taken in stride. Like the deal that stuck her behind the reformatory walls. A bum rap, but she wasn't crying about it. Stolen property, the cops had said, but how was she to know what was in the package she was supposed to deliver?
"Duck down, baby."
"Uh-huh. I'm out of sight."
The truck made some slow turns, rolled over something that sounded like a gravel driveway and then came to a halt. Larry got out and after a quick check opened the rear door.
"Come on, baby. Follow me. And move fast before somebody sees us and gets nosey."
Pat slid down from the truck. She trailed Larry through the back door of an old frame house. A short flight of wooden steps led to a large cellar chamber that had been done over into a kind of clubroom. It was musty and shabby, but compared to the reformatory it was paradise.
"We're safe here," Larry said. "Nobody will be coming in. So let's make it, huh? I've been waiting for this for a long time. Baby, you've got me in a sweat."
For a neatly-timed moment, Pat gave him her lips. Then, as he gasped for more, she went cold and shook her head. "Please, Larry, not now. I'm worried."
"Worried? What about? You're safe, I told you. So there's nothing to worry about."
"I-I'm safe now, but how about later? I'll never get out of this area dressed like this. I need clothes. And I don't even have the money to buy them."
Larry's features turned hard. "Clothes? Money? Baby, are you trying to con me?"
"You know I wouldn't do that. You got me out of that place, didn't you? I think you're a nice guy and I'm not going to hold out on you. But until I can figure out my next move. I'm just too worried to ... well, you know
"Yeah. I guess you're right, baby. Okay, I'll see what I can do about getting you something to wear. One of my friends has a sister about your size. You won't mind putting on second-hand stuff, will you?"
"Of course not. If you can get me a blouse anad skirt, I'll really show you how grateful I am. Or maybe a pair of stretch pants or jeans. Anything like that. I mink I can get by with these shoes I've got on."
"I'll give it a try. And I guess I might as well get the truck back to the garage while I'm at it. So sit tight, baby. I'll be gone about an hour or so."
There was a somewhat tattered couch in one comer, and Pat stretched out on it the moment Larry left. Now that the big hump pay-off crisis passed she felt exhaustion overtake her. The escape had taken its toll of her faculties and she was glad to be able to lie down and rest.
The place was dingy, but she didn't mind. It was peaceful here. And she felt good about the way she had handled Larry. One kiss and he had taken the bait. The problem of changing her clothes was solved. She could use an hour's dozing....
Grinning from ear to ear, Larry returned with a paper bag under his arm. "Blouse and pants, baby. Looks pretty good, too. Want to try them on?"
Pat's eyes lit up as she examined the garments. 'They're just fine, Larry. Thanks. Thanks a million."
"You like 'em, huh?"
"Very much. I feel better now. I guess my only worry now is getting my hands on a little money. Not much-just enough to get started on. Ten bucks, then I'll be-"
Larry muttered an oath. "First clothes, now money. What a con artist you turned out to be."
"Oh, no, I didn't mean to sound-"
The words were slapped back into her mouth as his hand lashed out at her. Stunned by the abrupt change in him, she cringed and shrank away. She had gone too far, she realized, and now he was furious with her. "Get undressed, baby."
Furious-and something else. Pat could see the evil lust on his pocked and pimpled face. And for just an instant she could feel the resistance stiffening within herself.
"You heard what I told you, baby." His balled fist smacked the flesh of her upper arm. "I don't like a chick to say no to me, understand?"
"Stop hitting me. Who do you think you-"
The edge of his right hand slammed into her ribs. She reeled in agony as the breath exploded from her lungs. A final open-handed slap sent her staggering to the couch. She crumpled there in a sobbing heap of pain.
"You get the message now, baby?"
She nodded and began removing her clothes. But she was too slow for him, evidently, and he ripped the garments away. And then, without preliminaries, he dropped his trousers and invaded her cunt savagely.
Choking off a scream, she forced herself to take his big cock. The core of her very being cried out against him, but she knew better than to risk another beating. Anyway it would soon be over she was sure. Even now his screwing was racing ahead and mounting to its peak.
He grunted once and then collapsed after shooting his load of hot sperm into her unwilling cunt.
For a long time she bore his weight, praying for him to hurry up and leave her. And when at last he rose and yanked his pants back up, she felt as if she had escaped from prison for the second time that day.
"Stay there, baby," he said. "Don't move. Then he went to the door and unlocked it. "Come on in, guys. She's all warmed up and ready for you."
Pat's eyes bulged. In single file they were coming in, a long line of them-how many she didn't dare count. They looked like half-grown men. But they were boys, hoodlums, young punks who lived and ate and slept in gangs.
"Hey, not bad," the first one said. "Some pair of tits, huh?" His eyes licked her breasts eagerly.
Larry shrugged complacently. "She'll do. Next time, though, shell know better than to pull a con-stunt on somebody like me." He sneered down at Pat. "I got you the clothes, but it wasn't enough for you. You wanted more. Okay, baby, that's just what you're going to get. More."
"Please Larry, I didn't mean."
"Shut up. We're going to have a nice little party, and you're the guest of honor. If you cooperate, you'll be better off. I'll put you on the road outside of town tomorrow and you'll be on your way. But if you still want to play, baby, there's no telling what might happen."
"I-I'll cooperate."
"Yeah. I figured you would." He turned to his friends. "She's ready for you. So go to it. But don't hurt her, see? Anything else is all right-know what I mean? Anything you can think of. And don't rush-we've got all night."
The first boy grabbed her.
She looked up at him as he sank his cock into her cunt. Beyond his sweating, straining face, she could see the others drawing into a ring around her. And she began to moan.
The boy didn't take long to shoot his load. But immediately there was another one to take his place. Then a third. A fourth. After that she lost count and just let it happen. Even when they came at her two at a time and started thinking up new hump tricks, she just let it all happen. For a little while she actually wished that she was back at the center again.
But she let them screw her ... And in the morning there was something even newer than the name Pat Mills about her. Boys hadn't meant much to her before, but they did now. She hated them. Boys. Men. All cocks. She hated them.
Not until the open convertible with the two women came along did Pat raise her thumb and flag a ride. The car squealed to a stop and the driver, a good-looking dame with long auburn hair, waved to her. "Hop in, honey."
"Thanks. Going far?"
"All the way." The driver nudged her dark-blonde -haired companion. "No, let her in the middle, Nikki Well share her." Then, as Pat clambered onto the seat. "Like I said, honey, we're going all the way. Right to the Florida Keys and then we leave the car and continue by boat. That far enough?"
"It sure is. Sounds wonderful, ma'm."
"Ma'm?" The woman smiled. "Hey, I'm not that old, am I? Call me Paula. And this is Nikki And now, my little roadside waif, what's your name?"
"Pat. Pat Mills."
"Okay, Pat, how far are you going?"
"Depends."
"Oh? Depends on what?"
Pat drew a deep breath. "On a lot of things. Mostly, I guess, it depends on how far you want to take me."
The woman called Paula, burst into laughter. She patted Pat's thigh and then leaned over to speak to the other girl. "What do you think, Nikki? How far shall we take our charming little hitch-hiking friend?"
"Beats me, Paula. You're the boss."
"Ah yes, I'm the boss." The woman was silent for a moment as she tooled the car deftly past a traffic snarl. Then, as the highway cleared again, she dropped her hand from the wheel in another caressing gesture on Pat's shapely thigh. "Well, Pat? All the way?"
The sun was deliciously warm and the breeze delightfully cool. Seated between the two beautiful creatures Pat felt just wonderful. Oh, she knew what it was all about, of course. It was pretty obvious and no one had tried to hide it.
As Paula's long slender fingers remained on Pat's thigh, Pat was more certain than ever that she had sized up the score correctly. Paula's hand massaged Pat's thigh gentry as the car breezed along. Somehow her touch was reassuring and thrilling at the same time. Pat felt no fear, and turning toward Paula, smiled winningly.
Right now, the desire uppermost in Pat's mind was to get as far south as possible. Even the equator wouldn't be too far, the way she felt about Longwood. These dikey broads looked as if they'd treat her right. They seemed to have money, and this looked like a deluxe ride with all the trimmings. Pat decided she was ready to string along all the way, frigging in or out of bed, with her new-found friends. She wasn't as innocent about lesbian stuff as she looked, they'd soon find out.
CHAPTER FIVE
Half asleep on the luxurious kind-size bed, the gorgeous blonde with the fabulous figure stirred restlessy. Diane Gaylord, reigning sex queen of Hollywood was beginning to come to after a rough night. Her nude, glamorous body a dream, her hair was the blondest and those tits were the sexiest. Hundreds upon hundreds of horny young men went to bed craving her and jerking off every night after seeing one of her movies.
But the soldiers who cheered her wildly in U.S.O. appearances never knew that the many handsome officers on the make for Diane left her cold. She was far more interested in the troupe's dancing girls. They'd never believe that her "love" affairs with handsome leading men were just so much publicity. No matter how virile looking her male escorts looked, they were invariably gay. Diane found them less troublesome that way. Attractive extra girls or starlets on the studio lot gave her the frigging kicks she was looking for-like now....
Golden hair, long and silky, spread in fanwise dishevelment and a few locks tumbled across the beautiful breasts that were known to every moviegoer in the land. Suddenly there was no longer relaxation in her magnificent body. Each breath made her bosom rise and fall in a kind of ever-mounting strange kind of sensual expectancy.
But perhaps it wasn't so strange.
She was being touched, delightfully touched, and for a moment she just gave herself up the the pleasant sensation. She didn't even care who was doing it to her.
But she had to care. The touch was getting much too close to her pussy to ignore its donor. Not that she was offended in any way; as long as the touch was soft and dainty it was all right with her. It came from a woman-or a young girl, perhaps, and that was all that mattered. As much of a sex-idol as Diane Gaylord might be on the silver screen, here in the privacy of her own room she dealt only in a less popular brand of sex. The great American public didn't know-or only vaguely suspected-that her preference was for lesbian caresses.
The kind she was getting now, hot lips working on her cunny....
But from whom? Sure, she could have opened her eyes right away and found out. But it was more fun this way. Guessing made the whole thing more spicy.
One thing was certain and she was glad of it. This was her own room. Her own bed. The softness of the mattress and the smoothness of the sheets told her that much. So at least she wasn't in some unknown house, thank heaven.
True, it might be her maid. Lilly often took the privilage of waking her mistress up like this. But somehow it just didn't feel like Lilly. The warm mouth seemed like liquid velvet as it tongued her clitoris.
Lilly"! Of course not. It couldn't be. Diane gave her memory a small spur and recalled that she had fired her maid only yesterday. Lilly had been too demanding for a servant. That was the way it so often happened-a girl got good in her work and then went beyond her regular duties. And Lilly-stupid shit!-had even been insisting about getting some relative or other a break in the film business.
What was the matter with servants these days? Didn't they know their place? Couldn't they accept and keep a job without looking upon it as a stepping-stone to fame and fortune and stardom in the motion-picture world?
Okay, so Lilly was gone. Good riddance. Then who was doing all that crazy kissing down on her cuntlips?
In a slowly deliberate movement, Diane rolled away almost to the edge of the bed. The cunt-lapping pursued her, warm and liquid and persistent. Again she moved, but it stayed with her and she realized that no amount of evasive action was going to shake it loose from her cunt.
That tongue. Mmmm....
Vaguely she remembered getting drunk the night before, good and stinking drunk in celebration of the finish of her picture. Obviously she had picked up someone at the studio party. But who it was she couldn't think of.
It was a girl, of course-it always was. But aside from that bit of information there were no clues. And it was fun to keep her eyes closed like this and lie here and enjoy having her vagina sucked and make a little guessing game out of it.
In a way, really, she was almost scared to look. In the past, some of her alcoholic binges had resulted in the sharing of her bed with some rather horrible creatures. Better to preserve the illusion, she figured someone was with her, and that someone was giving a performance on her cunt that was highly skilled in all its technical aspects. So why question it?
Relax and enjoy it, that was the thing to do. It would be disastrous if she were to open her eyes and find out that her boudoir companion was a monster with two heads or something like that. The thought was revolting.
Two heads? Well, no, that wouldn't be so bad. Being frigged by someone with two heads wouldn't have been such a major disaster. As a matter-of-fact, such a weird thing would probably be twice as interesting.
But it wasn't important. Not now. Nothing was important right at this instant. Nothing but this.
The feeling-ah, yes, the wonderful feeling. The hot flutter of that untiring tongue on her erect clitoris was getting to her. Getting to her good. It was stabbing, kind of, and was quite different from any that she had previously experienced. This was a new one, all right. Flutter ... stab towards her cunt-hole ... flutter-how nice!
Diane quivered and had to struggle to hold herself in check. Usually, in these intense moments at the peak of passion, she liked to tighten her thighs and crush. Even roll over. There was a special thrill in jamming her aroused and craving twat hard against the beseeching, open-mouthed face that became only an instrument of pleasure for her. She enjoyed the heady intoxication of subjugating her cunt-lapping lovers.
But this was different. Not better, perhaps, but different. There was patient skill in the stab and flutter routine. If she closed her legs this time she might lose the full benefit of that dexterous caressing of her twat.
That tongue. That remarkable tongue. Amazing. But now there was nothing but passion-no thinking, no guessing, no wonder about who and how and what there was room in her only for the hot blaze of unthinking, uncaring sensation.
"Now," she muttered. "Now!"
The tongue went on. Stab-flutter-stab-flutter-and at last it came, the big orgasm and she gasped for breath and shrieked her joy and then, obeying that impulse she always got, rolled over and crushed her weight down upon the cunt-juice covered face that had only one purpose as far as she was concerned. The purpose of giving pleasure to Diane Gaylord.
A moment later it was over. And the creature, as it turned out, wasn't a two-headed monster. Her name was Kathy and she was rather nice in an exuberandy youthful manner.
"Some alarm clock," Diane murmured.
"I guess I was." The girl's admiring eyes ran up and down Diane's body. "Although I wasn't thinking of it that way. I woke up and saw all those lovely goodies and couldn't pass them up. You didn't mind, did you?"
"It was fine, honey. Being awakened by an expert cunt-lapping like this will make my whole day easier."
"Oh, do you have something you must do today? I thought you were going to relax, now that the picture is finished. I'd love to spend hours with you."
Diane shrugged. It was the same old story. She remembered now that Kathy was a bit-player looking for a boost upward. Just like all the rest. And if they got any more involved than this, the girl would soon be asking her for favors. No, a one-night stand was far more simple.
"I'm afraid we can't, Kathy. It was fun, but the new day always brings new-"
"Please?" The girl's supply of energy was apparently inexhaustible; she seemed eager to resume her frigging activity. "Can't we just be together for a while longer?"
"Afraid not, sweetie." Diane removed the hand that was gliding across her skin.
"But why? The picture is finished and you don't have to go to the studio. You told me that last night. When you decided not to go to that island, well, I thought we would-"
"Island? Did I tell you that too?"
"Sure, you did. About some island in the Caribbean that you were invited to. You were supposed to go, but you really didn't want to. Remember?"
Diane nodded. "Uh-huh. I must have been drunk to talk so much. Know something, honey? I've just changed my mind about taking that trip. It will do me good to get away for a couple of weeks. All this Hollywood atmosphere is too boozy. Maybe a little primitive living will straighten me out"
"You-you're really going?"
"Uh-huh."
"But do you have to get up right now?" Again the girl's hand reached out in anxious caress.
"Right now. In fact, I'd better dress and-"
"Not yet. Please?"
Diane was getting bored by the situation. They had met and frigged and now it was ended. Couldn't these movie-struck kids understand? Did an affair have to be prolonged?
"Kathy, I'm getting up to get dressed. I do wish that you would do the same."
"Oh...." The girl pouted sulkily. "All right. If that's the way you feel. ... "
"Don't be angry."
"How can I help it?" Kathy rose from the bed. "I wouldn't stay now even if you asked me to."
"You wouldn't?" Diane chuckled and wriggled her twat provocatively, tossing her legs apart in abandon. "Are you sure of that, sweetie?"
The girl caught her breath. "Okay, you win. I'd do anything for you. But you're only teasing, I suppose."
"Uh-huh."
"But-but when you come back from that island, will you let me see you again. Please?" The girl's attitude had lapsed into complete subservience.
"Why not? Yes, it might be a nice idea to have you waiting for me when I get back. But no more of that now.
I've got too much to do."
Kathy took the hint. In a matter of minutes she had her clothing on. As she approached the bed, Diane turned her face slightly and let the farewell kiss land on her cheek. Then she watched the girl leave.
With a small sigh, Diane stretched and lit a cigarette. All in all, she was rather pleased with her conquest It might be fun to have Kathy around when she returned from St. Lazure. Although it didn't make much difference one way or the other, actually. There was always someone around to take care of her needs-and if not, it was never very difficult to locate someone.
For that matter, finding somebody new and untried was always more intriguing. She seldom resorted to calling in her old flames. Sex was fun-and necessary, of course-but there was a far greater joy in the conquest that led to it. Forcing her girls into submission that was the big thrill.
But Diane Gaylord had been going at her strange pastimes too hot and heavy. She really wanted a rest, to get away from her studios' high-pressure demands, and the whole movie business. The artificial living, the phonies who tried to cash in on her fame and body had her down. She was smart enough to know that a lot of the lovely young girls who gave their bodies to her so eagerly were false. Somehow the shining star of Diane Gaylord would give their careers the boost they couldn't get on acting ability. She was quite cynical and cold about them, as with Kathy.
But somewhere within her there was always the hope that she'd meet a lover who wanted her for herself alone.
Someone who had never even seen Diane Gaylord on a screen.
She'd heard rumors about a Madame Michele and her Club Gala on the island of St. Lazure. It was part of the reason she wanted to vacation there. Michele Duval was supposed to be able to satisfy any taste in hump-maybe even hers....
CHAPTER SIX
Paula Jardine had finally arrived at the Villa Jolie on the fabled island of St. Lazure. As she gazed about her, she was enchanted by the exotic tropical gardens and grounds which surrounded the impressively luxurious pink main house of this paradise. Gaily feathered birds fluttered and chattered in the bright green foliage blooming with unusually colored flowers. After five minutes, she fell in love with the place and congratulated herself on her luck.
She had bought the place sight unseen, from color prevue photos from a real estate firm in New York. Her spur of the moment decision had turned out to be just the thing she wanted, which was unusual. The long drive south and the boat trip from the mainland had left her exhausted, and Paula went to bed early.
The long rest had worked wonders and she felt refreshed again. A good thing, too, since she never would have been up to entertaining visitors if the headache had hung on. And that was exactly what she was stuck with-visitors. A couple named Brenda Kenyon and Burt Nestler.
It was enough to bring on another headache. Having guests drop in on you so unexpectedly was certainly irksome. But it was obvious that they were here to welcome her to the island. Or at least the woman was. In scarcely fifteen minutes of conversation Paula learned that Brenda considered herself the queen bee of high society on St. Lazure. And that it would make good sense for an outsider like Paula Jardine to accept and be grateful for the generous offer of friendship from such an important insider like Brenda Kenyon. At least that was the impression that Brenda tried so hard to give.
Oh, it had been a bit more subtle than that, of course. The plump woman had brought over some covered dishes of native food-"In case your kitchen isn't operating yet" and she had done her best to be affable in her rather ponderous manner. But Paula wasn't fooled. It was apparent that social-minded Brenda wanted her as a supporter rather than as a rival.
It rubbed her the wrong way. If the woman hadn't been so pushy about it, Paula might have shrugged the whole business off. But she detected a note of challenge in Brenda's attitude, and that was enough to give the affair more significance than it actually deserved. Was the fat slob looking for a fight? If so, there was a good chance she would get one.
But Paula wasn't terribly interested, one way or the other. She had too much on her mind to get involved now with any such foolishness. After all, she hadn't even gotten settled yet. And more important, she had her two companions to think about and she hadn't quite figured out how they would fit in.
At the moment, they were fitting in nicely. With an abundance of girlish laughter, both Nikki and Pat were out on the veranda listening to young Burt Nestler's naughty stories. Both kids looked fresh and pretty and sweet and no one would take them for what they were.
Paula smiled inwardly. What a lark it would be to pass the pair off as society girls. A hired hooker and a--well, she wasn't sure what Pat Mills was, but she sure meant to find out. It wouldn't be difficult to have an investigation made. Yes, she would have a man pick up the threads at Longwood and learn why a teen-aged kid in frayed clothing had been so eager to get picked up that she hadn't even cared about their destination. There was something peculiar about the girl.
Anyway, the afternoon sun was getting hot and Paula wished that Brenda would leave so that she might take a swim. There was another reason to. Sleeping alone last night had left her feeling a bit horny. Each time she heard those giggling voices it gave her a little tingle. Nikki, of course, was no longer a novelty, but Pat was still untested material and Paula was looking forward to doing something about it.
Leaning backward slightly, she could see the youngster through the window. While Brenda talked and talked, Paula enjoyed the pleasant sight. Pat was such a cute little thing, really, even though there was a touch of hardness about her. With her fluffy brown hair and soft brown eyes, the kid was a natural charmer. That still-developing body of hers was beautiful. No doubt about it. Pat Mills-if that was truly her name-was going to make St. Lazure even more enjoyable.
But she'd better not peep any more, Paula realized-Brenda was noticing her distraction. What was the woman saying? Something about a movie star? Diane Gaylord?
"Oh, yes, I just heard from Diane and shell be here soon. So I'll be giving a big party for her, Paula, and I'm sure you and your friends will want to come."
"Of course. She's very famous. Yes, thank you, well be happy to accept your invitation."
Paula's annoyance deepened. Okay, so Diane Gaylord was a fine catch for any hostess. But did Brenda have to be so smug about it? The woman sounded as if she practically owned the island and everything on it.
"Diane is great fun," Brenda went on. "Kind of wild, if you know what I mean. I'm sure shell insist on going to Michele Duval's place."
Paula gasped. "Whose place?"
"Oh, don't you know about it? There's a nightclub-although it's more of a callhouse, actually-run by a woman named Duval. Michele Duval. They say some of the goings-on there are simply scandalous."
"Uh this Michele. What does she look like."
"Small and dark. Puts on a Continental air. Rather pretty, really, if you like that type."
Paula's heart turned over. Michele. Michele was on the island. The one woman in all the world who could inspire fear in her. The woman who had made her crawl.
For years Paula had tried to erase the memory of that one night when they had met and loved. The only time in her life when she had been subjugated. The only time when she had danced to another woman's tune. But the memory of it the shame and degradation-had never gone away.
And now Michele was here!
Paula shuddered. True, she was older and wiser now and far more experienced than she had been in those days. Michele's sophisticated style had practically bowled her over-but they had been unfairly matched. A budding play girl against an old campaigner-and it was no wonder that Michele had been the victor.
If they clashed now it would be on a more even footing.
Just the same, though, the very sound of Michele's name had sent a chill through her. And yet there was fascination in what she was feeling. Fascination-much as she hated to admit it. The kind of fascination that a little bird feels for the beady-eyed snake that hypnotized before it attacks.
Abruptly, almost rudely, Paula stood up in an obvious gesture of dismissal. She was impatient for Brenda to leave. The garrulous old biddy was a bore. Outside, the sun was shining on the blue water and the silver-sanded beach-and Paula needed its warmth and comfort and reality. She needed something to dispel the dark chill of Michele from her heart.
Brenda finally got the message. With effusive farewells she latched onto her young lover and left. Immediately Paula called the girls and led them up to her room.
"Swim time, kiddies," she said. "I've got a whole batch of brand new bikinis. Let's go."
Dutifully, they trailed after her. Paula knew there would be no objections to her offer of swimsuits. Pat's wardrobe was non-existent and she was being outfitted as they went along. Nikki was being paid-well paid-to comply with every wish and whim of her employer.
"Look...." Paula got out the pile of garments. "Try them on right here. This three-angled mirror is great."
They started undressing. Now, for the first time, they were together in privacy. The atmosphere was laden with horny desire. The beach could wait, Paula decided. Here with these two lovely female bodies she would forget Michele.
But she became aware that Pat was being somewhat skittish. Bold and brazen as the kid had been on the road, she was now showing childish reluctance. It was apparent that Pat Mills was still a bashful teen-ager, basically, who would need a bit of prodding to make her shed her shyness.
Paula found the notion delicious. The youngster was almost cringing in an effort to hide her pink-peaked breasts. It was practically a contortion as she dropped her clothes and snatched at the two pices of her chosen bikini.
"Don't be bashful," Paula murmured.
"I-I'm sorry. It's all so new to me. But I'll try to be what you want, Paula. You're the boss. And I'm grateful for all you're doing for me." Pat dropped her arms, baring herself.
Naked and sensuous, Paula faced the girl and moved close. Until their breasts touched. The points turned firm. Paula kept up a swaying motion that made the sensitive spots rub and grate and chafe. It became starkly evident that Pat's timorous attitude wasn't preventing her nipples from becoming aroused.
Paula gestured. "The mirror. See?"
"Oh...."
"Isn't it beautiful?"
"Uh-huh. Oooooh, my titties feel so funny."
"But nice?"
"Uh...."
Their breasts mashed. Pat's body trembled violently. With deliberate intent, Paula avoided any other kind of touch. Her hands hung at her sides. She licked her lips to a glistening sheen, but didn't seek a kiss. Between their naked bodies only their tits made contact. Their faces, almost cheek to cheek, were turned toward the mirror.
Then, in a sudden motion, Paula seized the girl and captured her lips. Mouth jammed upon mouth. Her tongue shot out, probing forcefully, ending at last in the yielding softness that opened to receive it.
Now Paula was certain that Pat was ready. The kid was hot. Behind them, visible in the mirror, Nikki was waiting for invitation. Even in the midst of the deep kiss, Paula could see Nikki's green eyes and felt a surge of yearning to bring the dark-haired hooker into the embrace.
For one painfully intense moment, Paula recalled the black flashing eyes of Michele. Then in a struggle to get the woman out of her mind-Paula went wild. As the kiss ended she reached back and pulled Nikki in close.
Now she had them both. Naked. Standing in front of the mirror that multiplied the exciting images. Utterly devoid of reserve, she bent her head and glided from one to the other. Kissing, kissing and mouthing the naked breasts that seemed to jut out to ask for more. Nikki's breasts. Pat's breasts. Back and forth. Back and forth. As if there was no way that her lips could get enough of the smooth titties and their stiffly erect nipples.
From somewhere she heard laughter, sharp, strident, real. Derisive laughter. And yet she knew that she must be imagining it. Michele had laughed like that. Michele was laughing at her now. Michele was No!
It was unbearable. She couldn't go on thinking like this. She was Paula Jardine, proud, rich, naughty, and she called the tune for others to dance to. As she was doing now. Calling the tune for these two girls. And she wouldn't let the shadow of Michele darken her pleasure.
"Come. Both of you." Paula pulled them to the bed. "Make love to me. Make me happy."
Then they were writhing and squirming and Paula could feel hands upon her .Her belly, her buttocks. Fingers. Then lips and tongues, and she knew that Pat had at last entered into the spirit of the occasion. The full spirit. The little rascal was positively devastating as her lips worked their way towards Paula's cunt.
Nikki, of course, was playing her part as she had been paid to do. Not with the same amount of abandon, actually, but with a patient skill that was adequate compensation for her lack of wantonness.
Paula moaned.
The sound spurred the girls to greater activity. Her body arched as the moan became a keening wail. The tongues that besieged her cunt seemed to be demonstrating an entirely new version of the perpetual-motion principle. Ah yes, how she loved what they were doing to her. How she loved the adoration, the worship, the sense of knowing that all of this was designed for her pleasure and hers alone.
Glancing down, Paula's excited gaze saw that it was Nikki's lissome body before her, kneeling docilely with her dark blonde head busily doing homage to her moist cunt lips. Paula's shapely thighs quivered and squirmed as Nikki's head bobbed in a relentless pleasure rhythm as her tongue went to her clitoris.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Pat's pert dark head in the mirror-so that was what that thrilling sensation at her asshole was! Nikki's wonderful lips zeroed in on her womanhood's extra-sensitive clitoris with nibbling delight, and Paula's voluptuous torso flamed as fiery peak Miss burned through her, and she literally came like a house on fire.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Nikki looked down at Paula's naked body in the huge bed. The statuesque redhead was lying on her back, her large firm breasts heaving regularly, the gentle curve of her belly keeping time with them. Paula's climactic orgasm had not only relaxed her, she had fallen fast asleep. She couldn't say she wasn't getting her money's worth, Nikki thought. It really took professional cunt-lapping know-how to get results like that.
She looked sharply at Pat, whose face seemed flushed and upset. As Nikki asked her how she felt, she put her hands to her pert, full titties cupped them and sighed. She was still blazing with unsatisfied desire. Apparently contact with Paula's body had started something within the girl which really should be finished. That was apparent as Pat squeezed her own nipples hard,, her hands playing with her own body....
But Paula was through. Nikki wasn't quite at ease without the mistress' authority to guide her. Oh, she had that bubbling tension in her belly and it would have been fun to assuage it in some way. But she couldn't see her way clear to taking Paula's place and demanding the youngster's caresses on her pussy.
"Come on," Nikki whispered. "Grab your things and well go to my room and dress." She caught the girl's hand and tugged her from the bed.
They picked up their strewn garments-bikinis included-and started out the door. Glancing back, Nikki saw the strange expression on the sleeping woman's face. Peace. Contentment. Yet wasn't there something else flitting across it? Could it be fear? Revulsion? A kind of ecstatic horror? It was almost agonizing to watch.
But Pat was already out the door and Nikki closed it quickly and followed her. In her room, the girl still seemed numb and detached. She was even shaking.
"Kid, what's the matter?"
"N-nothing. I'm all right."
"You look like you're about to collapse."
"Uh-huh." The girl smiled wanly. "I guess I feel like that. II never did anything like that before."
"No? You could have fooled me."
"Oh, I didn't mean it that way, Nikki. I've made it with girls before. But not like that. It just never made me feel quite that hot."
Nikki chuckled. "Got worked up, huh?"
"I'll say."
"Still feel it?"
Pat blushed and nodded. "I guess so."
"Thinking of doing something about it?"
"I-I-"
"Relax, kid. You shouldn't let yourself go overboard for that sort of thing. It's not normal."
"Normal?"
The knot of tension tightened in Nikkis' stomach. But she just didn't have the heart to carry the youngster into further lesbian adventures. Much as she needed relief for her own tingling cunt-desires, she felt compassion for the kid and just couldn't take advantage of her weakness.
It was only too evident that Pat was weak. The girl could be led around by the nipples on her titties, so to speak. With twisted Paula Jardine doing the leading, the poor child was sure going to wind up with a warped notion of what love was really like.
"Pat, never mind dressing. Let's just talk, hummm? If we feel like it, we'll go to the beach later. But there's something I've got to get off my chest."
"All right, Nikki."
"Listen, honey-about what we did back there with Paula. That isn't the whole world, you know. Don't let it get under your skin and become a compulsion. You mustn't ever let lesbian frigging take the place of the real thing."
"The real thing? You mean men?"
"Of course."
Pat shook her head vehemently. "I don't like men. I'm afraid of them."
"Afraid? That's silly."
"But it's true. I had a rape experience with a gang of boys and now I hate all of them."
"Oh, come now, you don't really mean that. You were sure nice to that Burt Nestler fellow. As a matter-of-fact, I thought he was pretty terrific myself."
"Well, he's handsome, all right. And I guess I wasn't exactly scared of him, Nikki. But that's as far as I care to go. I wouldn't want a man to ... to...."
"Don't worry, you won't get raped. He's not the type. Burt is the kind of guy who has to be seduced, I'm sure. But I think it would be good for you to get to know him better. Play it cool, kid. Keep your balance. Don't let one hot lesbian scene knock you on your ear."
"I'll try not to."
"Tell you what, honey. As long as we're stuck on this island for a while, how about having some good healthy male fucking? Burt, I mean. Wouldn't you like to give it a go:
"No. Nikki, I couldn't."
"Sure, you can. I'll even organize it for you."
"Organize it? You mean you'll talk to him about me? Nikki, why? Why would you do that for me?"
"Oh, no special reason. I like you, that's all. I think you're a good kid who's making a bad start and I want to help. Maybe I can straighten you out."
There was silence for a moment. Then, "Nikki...."
"Hmmm?"
"Can-can I kiss you?"
"Kiss me? Like with Paula?"
"No. Like a friend."
"Oh, well, sure kid."
They kissed. But the friendliness was supplanted by something more, and Nikki felt the girl's lips quivering in eagerness. It didn't do much to keep down the fire that was still smoldering in the pit of her belly.
"Hey, now, cut that out."
," I-I'm sorry. But I want to, Nikki. I have to. Please let me. Please?"
"Slow down, baby. We shouldn't. It isn't right. It just isn't right for you and me to-"
"Oh, you don't understand. I don't care whether it's right or wrong, I just know I want to do it. I feel like I'm just stepping out into the world and I want to do everything. Everything, do you hear me? Especially this." The girl's hand reached out and foraged boldly on Nikki's bush and cuntlips.
Nikki squirmed. "Okay, okay, don't rush me. But I'll make a fair trade with you. Let me fix you up with Burt Nestler and I'll go along with what you're asking.
"Oh."
"S'matter? You don't want to, gal?"
"I-I-" the girl shrugged helplessly. "I do want to. But I'm scared. Would you be there? Could we all be together? I wouldn't be so afraid that way."
"Hmmm, that's an idea. Sure, I think we might work it out. But it will depend on the guy, of course. Still, I know his type. I'd bet I can talk him into anything."
"Me too."
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"Me too, Nikki. You can talk me into anything. If you really want me to, I'll meet Burt with you."
"Will you? That's great."
"You're so smart, Nikki. You know so much more than I do. I think you're even smarter than Paula, even though she bosses you around. You make me feel like a little girl who has so much to learn about life."
Tenderness mounted to a peak inside Nikki. The kid was looking up to her as a child looks up to its mother. It was enough to make her cry tears of sympathy. Only she couldn't really feel motherly while that hand was caressing her cunt. Her tenderness was already giving way to passion.
"Shall we take that swim now, Pat?"
"No. Let's stay here."
"But I don't think we-"
"Please? You promised. I said I'd meet Burt with you, didn't I? What more do you want?"
"Okay, honey, you win." Nikki gasped as fingers took abrupt liberties. "Hey, take it easy. Be gentle."
"Show me. Teach me."
"Huh? Gal, you're kidding."
"I'm not. I really don't know very much. Honest. I don't know how to make love to a woman. Back there with Paula, I wasn't sure of what I was doing."
"Honey, you've got the wrong party. I'm no teacher. I don't know much about this kind of thing."
"You know more than I do. Anyway, you can tell me if I'm doing something wrong, can't you?"
"Well, yes, I suppose so."
"Nikki, help me. I want to learn. I want to learn everything there is to know about sex. All kinds of frigging.
If you can help me get over my fear of men, I'll be thankful. And if you can help me with with this, I'll be even more thankful."
Nikki was flabbergasted. "You-you really mean it? All right, honey, I'll do what I can."
"Now? Please, right now?"
"Uh-huh. What do you want to know?"
At the girl's immediate nudge, Nikki tumbled backward. Her limbs went slack at the pressuring fingers, moving apart in jerky little motions as the fingers continued massaging her clitoris. Then she sighed softly and succumbed to a melting sensation as warm lips placed an intimate kiss with meaningful precision between her hot cuntlips.
"This...." Pat's voice was faraway plea. "This is what to do. Show me how to make you really come."
"Uh-huh. Go ahead."
"Like this? Am I doing it right?"
Nikki made no reply. But the languid stirring of her asscheeks told all that was necessary at the moment. Oh yes, that kid was doing it right. It was such a joy to lie here like this and feel that eager mouth. Experienced or not, the youngster had a natural aptitude for cunt-lapping.
The girl was good. Great, even-except that she was trying too hard. Her lips pressed a little too hard, her caress lacked finesse. Yet Nikki was almost unwilling to stop and calm her down, considering how much pleasure that striking tongue was bringing her cunt. Still, she was supposed to help and it wouldn't be fair to keep quiet.
"Pat?"
"Mmmm....
"Not so hard. Gently, gently. Move around a little bit more. Your tongue...."
"Uh-huh." Then, "Mmmm?"
"Yes. That's much better."
"Teach me."
Nikki's hands gently guided Pat's close-cropped back-haired head to a different position, more towards her erect clitoris, as she shifted her quivering white buttocks slightly.
"Once you find the exact right clitty spot, the rest is easy. Just the general area isn't enough ... you can tell an amateur by the 'shotgun technique'," Nikki murmured.
Pat's head bobbed in assent, and then Nikki's thighs began a writhing rhythm. As Pat's tongue flicked hungrily, Nikki's hips and buttocks clamped convulsively around her head.
"You hit the spot, Pat baby doll," Nikki shrieked joyously.
Her seductive body quivered with the peak intensity of unexpected orgasm Nikki sighed deeply as the pleasure flood ebbed, parting her thighs and letting Pat raise her smiling face.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Diane Gaylord tried to arrive at St. Lazure as inconspicuously as possible, but the whole island knew the famous movie star was coming. An elaborate formal party of welcome was organized by that self-elected social leader, Brenda Kenyon. Everyone of importance on the island was invited.
Diane's blonde loveliness fumed angrily when she heard of it, she felt she was being imposed upon. She wanted to be a private person, there for a real rest. And incidentally, for some real unpublicized hump-escapades.
She couldn't ditch the party altogether, it would be too damaging to her image. But she did stamp her foot and insist that everyone come informally attired, or else no Diane Gaylord. Since Diane had the kind of amazing looks and body that would look at their best in nothing at all, she shone at the party. Everyone of any importance in St. Lazure showed up to welcome the glorious blonde. But to Diane it was pretty much of a bore. There were charming women and distinguished-looking men, true enough, but she came across no one sufficiently interesting to brighten the prospects of her holiday. In shorts, they all seemed relaxed and comfortable but with comparatively few exceptions, they were fairly dreary bunch.
After a while she got tired of seeing so many knees. Fat knees, skinny knees, dimpled knees-there was just a surfeit of knees. Pretty soon she made a game out of it by avoiding faces, and making snap judgments of people's characters based only on their bare legs.
Of all the knees, the ones that appealed to her most were those that belonged to Paula Jardine and the two cute girls with her. But the girls, as Diane soon found out, were no different than the moochers and climbers she knew on the West Coast. Lovely on the surface, but a bit sharp and self-promoting underneath. Not her type, really, and she didn't care about getting involved in something that would probably stifle her.
Paula, of course, was another story. Diane was quick to recognize the New York playgirl as an equal. But the feeling between them was respect and friendliness, nothing more. No sex. They were too much alike, actually, and any frigging with one another could have come about only because of mere curiosity and not flame of real desire.
Besides, from the way Paula acted with the two girls it was apparent that she had no need of more hump-partners. The symptoms were familiar to Diane. The three of them were undoubtedly having a private little screwing arrangement that hadn't progressed far enough to lose its novelty.
Diane saw no reason to interfere. But she only wished that she too might locate some cute and submissive cunt-lapper with whom she could while away the long leisure hours. And what she was seeing of Brenda's party-going guests didn't augur too well for the immediate future. Aside from Nikki and Pat, there just wasn't much hump material around not her kind of material, at least. And she didn't feel up to getting into any kind of competition with Paula.
As the liquor flowed and the party wore on, Diane was aware that it could only get worse. Boredom began to weigh heavily upon her. People were introducing themselves to her for the second time and they were no more impressive than the first. It was almost a relief when she spotted Paula Jardine across the room and read signs of similar ennui in the woman's expression.
Diane threaded her way across the room going through an obstacle course of tilted drinks and smoldering cigarettes. She placed her lips to Paula's ear.
"You too?" she murmured.
"Hmmm?"
"I saw the expression on your face. You're just as bored with this thing as I am. Right?"
"Bull's-eye. Frankly, I'm bored stiff. But Pat and Nikki seem to be enjoying themselves, so I guess I'll have to hang around. It'll probably last for hours, though. Until morning-unless the booze runs out."
Diane snorted. "It won't run out. Brenda stocked up. So we're in for a hard day's night. I guess. Unless we can think of something amusing to do."
"True. Any suggestions?"
"No. Nothing that I can-" Diane stopped short and snapped her fingers. "I've got it. How about a bicycle ride?"
"A bicycle ride? Now?"
"Sure. Brenda has bikes out in the back. Let's play hookey and sneak a couple and take a spin around the island. I haven't been on a bike for years."
"Sounds like fun ... The way things are going here, we wouldn't even be missed. But I don't know any more about St. Lazure than you do, Diane. We might get lost Don't you think we ought to have a guide?"
Diane nodded and surveyed the crowd. "A guide. I see just the guy for the job. Burt Nestler will do it. Hell get the bicycles out for us, too. Okay?"
"Fine. Let's get him and go."
Burt's momentary reluctance to leave the party vanished when it became clear what an honor was being conferred upon him. Not every man got the chance to escort two such important women. In a matter of minutes, the three of them were pedaling away from the raucous house into the quiet darkness.
"Fun, huh?" Paula sounded happy.
"Great. If I don't break my neck. It's precious, you know. The head of my studio would have a fit"
"Well take it easy," Burt said. "And it'll be all right The lane is smooth all the way to town."
But it wasn't that simple, Diane found out. Her girlhood skill was returning entirely too slowly and she felt awkward. And somehow the seat wasn't right. The stiff leather nosed upward between her buttocks and thighs to rub against her cunt. The place where it rubbed was getting mighty sensitive.
She could feel it now, warm and moist, and although she didn't exactly mind too much, she knew that it could only lead to eventual frustration. Still, there wasn't anything that she could do about it. Anyway, even this temporary pussy excitement was better than nothing. It was really a thrill in a ludicrous sort of way. If she wriggled a little bit more, maybe she could even come.
On a bicycle seat"!
Diane giggled self-consciously aid forced her quivering cunt to calm down. How ridiculous! But at least she could read the message loud and clear. She needed action. And she needed it soon. She hadn't been with a girl since the Coast. When a bicycle seat became that important, well, it was time to get busy and find a real live substitute for that impersonal leath caressing her twat. Otherwise it would be a sad vacation.
Burt's voice sang out. "We're coming to a landmark. See the house on the right? There-just beyond the hill. That's Michele Duval's place."
Paula's front wheel must have struck a rock. It twisted and she almost fell from her bicycle. But she regained her balance in time and kept on pedaling.
"Whose place?" Diane said. "Burt, you were about to tell us about a local landmark."
He chuckled. "It belongs to the most important woman on the island. Brenda can be the social big-shot, but Michele is our prize-winner. The commodity she peddles outranks anything that Brenda can produce. Sex is the great leveler-and all men stand in awe of it."
"What's that, philosophy?" Paula's tone was drily sarcastic. "You actually sound like a writer. Maybe that novel of yours will be a howling success."
"Well, after I get if finished-"
Diane interrupted. "Don't change the subject. I want to know more about Michele and her place. Better yet, can't we stop and go in?"
"Sure," Burt said. "It's a nightclub, partly. If you want to, we can have a drink before we head back."
"No!" Paula's voice almost shocked by its shrill loudness. "I don't want to go in."
"Honey, why not?" Diane wheedled. "It might be fun. We won't stay very long."
But Paula was adamant. Whatever the reason, it was evident that she wanted nothing to do with Michele Duval and her house of ill-repute. Somehow even their discussion of it seemed to have depressed her. She suggested turning around and going back to the party.
"You go," Diane said. "But my curiosity is aroused. I'm anxious to see the inside of a real cat-house!"
Paula shrugged. "It's okay with me. How about you, Burt? What's you choice?"
"Well ... uh...."
Diane cut in hastily. "You ought to head back with Paula. Don't worry about me--I'll make out all right."
There was a little more agreeing and disagreeing, but finally it was settled. The two started back to Brenda's soiree. Diane continued on alone.
Alone. She breathed a sigh of relief. It was the way she wanted it. But not for long. The deep-digging bike seat tickling her cunt had done its work well. She was too far gone now to care about a drink in a nightclub. She wanted action. The kind of action that she might get in the more clandestine part of her house. Going in alone would make it easier to talk to Michele Duval and make her rather offbeat frigging desires known.
No, she wouldn't be along long. Funny thing, though. She was a Hollywood star with dozens of gay girls wild about her and now she was actually going to pay for companionship. Pay a woman to take care of her. Like a sailor on shore leave. And wasn't it just too exciting!
Her excitement mounted as she parked the bicycle and went inside. The woman named Michele turned out to be remarkably understanding. Enough so that Diane was almost tempted to make a pass at her, instead of going the commercial route. But the flurry of anticipation inside her was for a paid prostitute. There was something deliciously perverted about the idea.
"I have just the girl for you." Michele's smile was all-knowing. "So meek and mild. The kind who is always ready and willing to obey."
"Oh yes. I'll like that."
"Anyway you mustn't be too gentle with her, my dear. Goldie has rather a slavish nature."
"Goldie? Is that her name?"
"It's what we call her. You'll see why. The color of her skin is really unique. But perhaps you'd rather not have one of the native girls? I can get you a-"
"Goldie sounds fine. Especially what you said about her having a slavish nature."
"Good. Be sure to take advantage of it, won't you?" The dark eyes of Michele glistened. "Goldie's at her best-and at her happiest, I might add-when she is completely at the mercy of some beautiful woman. So handle her with authority and shell love you."
"Thanks, Michele. I'll do that. And about payment, uh, I'm not carrying much money with me, but if-"
"Say no more, please. This one is on me. It's an honor to entertain the ravishing Diane Gaylord," chuckled Michele in a confidential manner. "And it's good business too, frankly. I'm sure I'll see more of you. But enough of that-you must be terribly impatient, yes?"
Diane nodded, her tongue thick and unwieldy from the surging thrill of this naughty escapade. She went to the room designated by Michele and sat down on the bed to wait.
Presently the door opened. The girl entered, closed it and shot the bolt; then she turned and faced the bed. "I am here to serve you, Miss Diane. My name is Goldie."
Diane beckoned her closer, utterly charmed by the beauty of the creature. Goldie was small-boned and dainty and she moved with a fluid grace even on the outrageously high spike-heels that she wore. She had on a white maid's cap and tiny apron and not a stitch else.
But it was the color of her skin that made Diane tingle in astonishment. Despite her impatience, she had an overwhelming desire to just look and evaluate and enjoy the fantastic coloration of that gleaming smoothness.
"Those things," she said. 'Take them off. Not the shoes, just the cap and the apron."
The girl complied. Diane's eyes widened. The rosy copper skin of the girl's body was completely devoid of hair even over her cunt-area, and it gave her an appearance of a young child.
"Is this all right, Miss Diane? Is there anything else I can do for you?" There was an exotic tinge to her speech and the words like a liquid purr. "Anything at all?"
"Anything at all ... I'm just beginning to understand that. Yes, there is something." Again Diane raised her hand in a languidly beckoning gesture. "Come and undress me."
Then she gasped as the girl caught her hand and pressed her lips to it. Like a slave showing gratitude for the privilege of serving her mistress. When the girl started her task, it was with that same worshipful attitude. Few as Diane's garments were, Goldie made a long and sensuous ritual out of their removal and folding and placing out of the way.
"You do that well, Goldie. You're certainly as good as any personal maid I've ever had."
"Thank you. I know all about how to take care of beautiful ladies. I am well-trained." As if in illustration of her remark, the girl sank to her knees and kissed Diane's feet. Her soft voice floated upward. "Do I please you?"
"You please me very much."
It was a crazy thrill and Diane let it go on. The sensation of her toes in that wet mouth was exhilarating. She knew her feet must have gotten a little sweaty and grimy from the party and the exertion of the bike ride. But the crouching girl actually seemed to enjoy licking and washing them with her tongue.
Sweaty. Grimy. But it didn't make any difference. Nor did it make any difference that the rest of her body was that way, too. For a session of love-making with some other woman, she would have insisted on bathing first. It was the polite thing to do.
But for this girl? Her slave!!
Bathing wasn't necessary. Goldie's mouth was hers to use as she liked. To use and abuse. And suddenly Diane could hold back no longer. Later, perhaps, she would have more of this protracted adulation. But she was too hot now. Her cunt was still afire from the memory of that thrusting bicycle seat. And the memory wasn't enough.
"Goldie!"
"Mmmm?"
"Up here. Quickly."
The girl scurried. Diane seized her by the hair and tossed her yielding form face up on the bed. Wide-eyed, mute, the big velvet eyes stared upward.
Diane rose high, positioning herself momentarily and then let her weight sink slowly. The staring eyes remained open staring at the moist cuntlips until the very last possible moment. Adoration gleamed in their depths. Then the eyes closed and the mouth opened and Diane's vagina reached the end of its descent.
A thrill shook her. It was like being on the bicycle again. Only it wasn't hard, inflexible leather that she was sitting on, it was a soft-skinned face. A soft-lipped mouth. And upon the soft-tongued perch, Diane's twat knew ecstasy. Only for one rational instant did she stop wriggling her thrilling pussy long enough to speak the thought that was too urgent to let pass.
"Goldie, would you like to work for me? Would you like to leave the island and come away with me to California?"
"Ummm."
The mumble was meaningless and Diane raised her torso to let the girl talk. There was a gasp, an intake of air, and then the sound of the humble voice.
"I-I don't know. I belong to Miss Michele."
"I think well be able to take care of that little detail, baby," Diane murmured, smiling.
Gently, the most sought after, sexiest satiny asscheeks in the hemisphere settled themselves sensuously on Goldie's waiting, upturned mouth. They began a soft, undulating wriggle as Diane's cunt again felt the trained artistry of Goldie's lips and fluttering tongue. Then Diane's body crouched forward, her hands clutched the golden red-nippled globes of Goldie's tits as her asscheeks writhed in shimmering frenzy. f "Don't stop Goldie," she squealed joyously. "I've never been turned on like this before, oh, oh!"
The most expensive cunt in Hollywood twitched in the exquisite spasms of ultimate blissful release....
CHAPTER NINE
Ever since his cock had been at the disposal and whim of Brenda Kenyon as part-time writer and full-time stud, Burt had never really asserted himself. He knew that Brenda would have it in for him now, but oddly enough he didn't care. She had a vengeful nature and would really start taking it out of his hide for having the boldness to run off from her big party with the guest-of-honor, and the runner-up.
Burt knew that his consumption of rum collins at the house would be cut to zero, as well as his pocket money during the coming week. But he really didn't care, they had all enjoyed themselves and he thought he detected a spark of extra interest in him from Paula.
He couldn't figure it out. Immediately upon turning back from Michele Duval's place, Paula had waxed talkative to the point of being garrulous. It had been almost some kind of nervous reaction, in a way, but Burt just couldn't see what she had to be nervous about. There was no clue, either, except that she kept glancing back over her shoulder as if she expected someone from Michele's house to be pursuing her.
But nervous or not, her desire to talk had turned their spark of conversation into a veritable bonfire of scintillating repartee. Burt was aware that he had done well. Paula had truly appreciated his philosophical gems of wit, and she was even interested in his unfinished novel.
Now that they had returned to the party, Paula was circulating among the other guests and Burt was doing his best to forestall Brenda's impending wrath by playing his role of unofficial host to the hilt. But his mind was still occupied by the possibilities of a relationship with Paula.
For one thing, the woman was rich. Richer than Brenda, probably, although in that financial bracket a few millions this way or that weren't important No, the important thing to him, any way-was Paula's beauty and charm. It would be a pleasure to be tied down to screwing such a woman. Under her sponsorship, finishing his book would be a labor of love.
But he was whistling in the dark, perhaps. After all, the woman's friendliness may not have meant anything that significant. Just the same, though, he had made a good start. He was determined not to let such a marvelous chance slip away without giving his all. The idea of walking out on Brenda to hook up with Paula was positively uplifting. He was treading on air as he made his rounds of the party people.
When the dark-blonde -haired girl named Nikki approached him, he had immediate hopes of switching their topic of discussion to Paula. Nikki was Paula's friend and house guest; perhaps he could pick up some information that might prove valuable later on when he attempted his courtship.
But it was apparent that Nikki had something else on her mind. And as she broached it, Burt was stunned. What was the girl driving at? A sex three-some.
"Simmer down," he said. "Let me get it straight before I go off my rocker. Did my ears hear what I thought they heard? Do you really mean it?"
"Oh, stop being so prudish. It's nothing to get shocked about. I want you to make it with Pat, that's all. I'll be along just to keep the thing organzied."
"Okay, you want me and Pat to get together. That much I understand. But why? What's it all about?"
"We're doing the kid a favor, that's why. She had a rough time with some boys and now she's afraid of all males. If she doesn't do something about it, shell be getting queer ideas. So you're going to help her out, Burt."
"Just like that, Huh?"
"Just like that. And don't look so glum. You'll enjoy screwing her, don't you realize that? Pat is cute."
"Burt peered through and around the crowd until the tousled black-haired Pat came into view. Pat was lovely sure enough. But he still didn't quite comprehend the mechanics of the strange situation.
"She's cute, all right. But if she's afraid of all male cock doesn't that include me?"
"Well, yes-and no. Anyway she's willing to go through with it. Only I'll have to be around in case she gets skittish. You won't mind, that, will you?"
Looking into Nikki's green eyes, Burt saw something akin to challenge. As if she was telling him that she would resent his turning her down. He suddenly recognized just how clever this bold-speaking girl was. In putting forth her brazen proposition, she had actually managed to maneuver their respective positions around until he was on the defensive.
A smart one. Endowed with wisdom and woman's intuition. The kind of girl who'd be handy to have around. He sure didn't want to offend her. If he said yes, wouldn't he be able to ask for a favor in return?
Darn right he would. And since she had been so blunt and honest, he might as well be the same. Make it direct and to the point and hope for a favorable reaction.
"Nikki, I've got a confession to make. Sure, I'd like to help you out with Pat, but my heart wouldn't be in it Believe it or not, I've got a hard-on for Paula Jardine.
"Paula," the girl looked shocked.
"Uh-huh. And I think she likes me. But that's as far as it's gone. Just two friendly people. Since you're such a good helper, well...."
"I get it. You want me to organize that too?"
Burt nodded. "Can you?"
"No. Anyway, I won't promise that I can. I can't talk to Paula the way I do to Pat."
"Would you try?"
"It wouldn't help, Burt. For reasons that I don't care to go into, my interfering wouldn't do any good. But there is another way that I can do something for you. Hmnun, as a matter-of-fact, it might be an interesting experiment."
"Experiment? What are you talking about?"
"You and Paula. I can't get the two of you together; you'll have to arrange that yourself. But I can tell you how to treat her when it does happen. I know what kind of screwing gives Paula her jollies. Would that help you?"
"I'll say it would. Come on, tell me. What's the big secret? How do I vanquish the fair lady?"
"Down boy." Nikki giggled. "You don't vanquish her. Try it that way and you'll be a loser for sure. But it's too complicated to talk about here and now. Well have to put it off until some better moments."
"Aw, you're teasing me."
"Ummm, well, only a little. You're such a teasable boy, Burt. But I'll tell you all about the right hump technique for Paula, I promise. And you'll do, that little favor of frigging Pat for me, huh?"
"I'll do it. But I'm not exactly looking forward to it frankly. It just doesn't seem-"
"Don't let it upset you, Burt. Leave it to me. You and Pat will get along fine. But now that you've made your decision, all I ask is that you don't back out."
"I won't. Only I'm asking you the same thing in regard to that other business. Paula, I mean."
"Fair enough." Nikki bit her lip thoughtfully. "Now when would be the best time? The three of us would have to get away without being conspicuous."
"Late at night, I suppose. On the beach? I often go for a short swim after Brenda is asleep."
"Good idea. The beach it is. Pat and I will bring a blanket. But is there some out-of-the-way place where-"
"No problem. Plenty of hidden spots. Actually, there's a cove between this house and Paula's that would be perfect for us. Brenda and I used to-" He broke off in embarrassment. "Well, you know. Anyway, it's a good place to get together for secluded screw. When shall we do it?"
"The sooner the better, I think. Tomorrow night?"
Burt shrugged. "Okay by me. Hey, you know something? I feel as if we're both a couple of conspirators plotting a crime. Should I wear my James Bond trenchcoat?"
Nikki's white teeth flashed in a merry laugh. She was beautiful, he realized, and he felt a momentary pang of yearning for the girl. But they were conspirators, not lovers, and he had promised his cock to her friend Pat. More than that, Nikki was going to help him with Paula.
The more Burt thought about tomorrow night's forthcoming sex adventure, the more it appealed to him. It would certainly be something different from his usual routine with Brenda. One look at her flashing, angry eyes already told him that his punishment for his little escapade was beginning.
It would continue later that night when all the guests had left. That was when she would summon him to her bedroom and he would have to pacify her with an offering of his prick. An affront like tonight's would make her insatiable. He could see his weary dong, an unwilling captive of her fleshy, wriggling thighs, drained and fatigued by her hungry cunt when dawn finally came.
CHAPTER TEN
Nikki and Pat walked along the white sandy tropical beach in skimpy bikinis, carrying a blanket There was a full moon, and its rays silvered the calm sea as tiny kissing waves broke in balmy serenity.
Pat shivered at the thought of what she was walking toward. The memory of the truck driver Larry's brutal fucking of her, me beast-like lust of his friends as they took their fill of her defenseless cunt was still strong. Now another muscualr body would clutch her, squeeze her breasts, invade her quivering cuntlips ... The nude gentle embraces of women were so much nicer. Why did Nikki insist that she try this man's cock?
Her feet dragged. In spite of it, though, Pat felt sexy. Paula had been jittery and nervous all day and had finally gone to bed with a headache. So there had been no trouble about coming out to the beach, of course, but there had been no playing around either. No bedroom frigging.
Young as she was, Pat needed those bedroom friggings. They were in her blood. She only wished that she and Nikki were going to be alone tonight. Alone on the beach.
It might have made her even happier to be with Paula. Nikki was nice, but Paula was much older. There was something exciting about going down on an older woman's pussy. A mature woman who was stern and yet kind at the same time.
The sand tickled. And feeling like a little girl suddenly made sense. Pat was a little girl and not just because of the sand between her toes, either. It was the way she felt. It was a need. But what was the little girl looking for? A mother? The mother she couldn't remember?
"There, honey. See?"
"Huh?" Pat went stiff. "Yes, I see him."
"Relax. It won't be so bad."
"Nikki, I said I'd lay for him. So you don't have to keep encouraging me. I'm doing it because you want me to."
"No, kid, that's not the reason. You're doing ti because it's the right thing to do."
Pat shrugged. Nikki just didn't understand. Maybe even being alone with Nikki wouldn't have been so much fun now. Someone of Paula's age would be nicer. But Paula was up there in her bedroom nursing a nervous headache. Paula didn't understand, either. Didn't anybody understand?
Well, it was too late for such thoughts now. Burt had spotted them. From a distance he looked quite nice. But coming closer he lost his charm. His muscualr chest was ugly. Oh, maybe not really ugly, but how could it be pretty without curved breasts? And his legs weren't very shapely. Then too, those tight swim-trunks made him look almost silly.
"Hi, girls."
Nikki did all the talking. "Hello, Burt. I see you made it out all right. Brenda asleep?"
"Just about. I told her I was going to take a quick dip. But shell drop off and be out until morning. Anyway, there's no hurry."
"Yes, there is. Pat has the shakes. Since we all know what we're here for, let's get to it. Getting started humping is going to be the hardest part. Spread the blanket, hmmmm?"
A chill rippled up Pat's spine. But she knew that she couldn't back out now. Nikki was too insistent. If it had to be done, haste might make it easier. Certainly there was no need for any romantic buildup.
Pat stood in the middle of the spread blanket. Bravely, she reached back and unfastened her bikini top. Then, without giving herself a chance to hesitate, she peeled out of the brief bottom garment and posed naked.
She saw their eyes upon her. Burt took a step toward her and she wished with all her might that it was Nikki who was to make love to her. Or Paula. Or anyone. Anyone but this-this man. Only it was Burt and nobody else and he had her in his arm and they were tumbling to the blanket and he was yanking at his trunks and crushing her. She shuddered.
It hurt. But what hurt worse was the fact that Nikki was no longer there. Nikki had run off into the ocean and left them alone. Nikki just didn't understand.
"Baby ... ah...."
How stupid! Burt was puffing and huffing like the wolf blowing down the houses of the three little pigs. He was actually enjoying shoving his cock in and fucking her. He must have thought she was enjoying it, too. Now his mouth was slobbering all over hers.
Disgusting.
But not to Burt. Not to the man. He was getting what he wanted, he was using her, crushing her, splitting her and he was having a great time and puffing and shoving his cock into her cunt "Ah! So that's it'"
The voice sounded from a distance. Burt looked up and then started scrambling to his feet. "Come on, Pat. It's Brenda. Run for the water, baby. Run!"
The shock was too much and Pat couldn't stir. She saw Burt grab his trunks and race for the shoreline to disappear where Nikki had gone. She saw the mountainous figure of Brenda bearing down on her.
A very angry Brenda.
As she looked at the angry face, she knew that she alone was left as the culprit. She alone would have to take the brunt of the huge woman's wrath.
"So it's you, Pat. Sneaking out here and fucking my man! Little snip. Oh, you little-"
"But I didn't, I didn't want to. I didn't even like it Please, Brenda, it wasn't my fault"
"No? Not your fault? Hah!"
Pat winced as the woman hauled her upright. But she felt paralyzed and couldn't fight back. Brenda caught her hair in a powerful grip, bunching it at the nape of the neck. With her free hand, the heavy-set woman flailed away.
There was a whimper first and as the palm struck her cheeks again, and again, the whimper became tearful. Pat covered before the vicious slaps, but there was no escape. When she tried to avoid the blows, it availed her nothing and the hand found a new target. Now it was her breasts that were getting slapped. And then her quivering asscheeks.
It hurt. It hurt like blazes. And yet there was another feeling that wasn't painful at all. Brenda was so big and strong and powerful. But Brenda was a woman too. With all of a woman's softness. She even smiled like a woman. How could there be real pain in something like that?
"Little slut!"
"No. Please don't say-"
"Shut up. Oh, if you were only my daughter. Then you'd really get it. I'd know how to handle you."
Pat moaned. A sharp slap lashed her buttocks. Her face hurt, the inside of her mouth felt raw. There was an ache in the region of her breasts. Her ass stung. But when the grip on her hair slackened she did not run.
It was so strange. One minute she was standing there in front of the woman, watching that great bosom heave up and down in deep gulps for breath. An instant later she was sinking her head upon that bosom and burying her tear-stained face in the mature womanliness of it.
The motherliness.
"Baby ... oh, my baby...."
She remembered other people calling her that. But it was never like this. It wasn't the same at all. Brenda really meant it. It was right, Pat knew somehow, no matter how weird it seemed to be, it was right. She was Brenda's baby.
For her wickedness, she had been punished. That was right, too. After punishment-love! Yes, that was right, as right as anything in the world had ever been. Love.
But she knew instinctively that Brenda didn't realize how intense this sudden development had become. The woman was stroking her hair, soothing, petting her, crooning little words of compassion into her ear. The fury had spent itself and left only emotional upheaval that was seeking an outlet in this intimate but sexless embrace. The tenderness of a mother for her chastised little girl.
Only it wasn't sexless.
Not to Pat. Not to Brenda, either, she was sure. They were aware there was a need for more. An urgent need for even greater closeness. She twisted her neck and got her face inside Brenda's blouse. The tit-flesh bulging above the brassiere was like a soft pillow. She kissed it fervently.
"Pat, what are you-"
"Let me. Let me love you."
Brenda swayed. Her knees sagged under her weight and she crumpled to the blanket. Pat went down with her and they writhed together in mad search for more and more of this new hump-thrill that they were tasting.
Fingers fumbled. The bra loosened, spilling the woman's big tits out into the open. She made small noises of protest, but Pat could only ignore them as she continued her quest for the elusive mystery. She fastened her sucking lips to the soft skin and lost herself in its perfumed magic.
It was a whirlpool of feeling. Weird sounds rose in her throat as it became all but unbearable. She ached. Her flesh smarted. But her lips and hands met with no resistance, and the wave of pleasure that washed over her was like a miracle. The miracle. The one she had never experienced.
Pat was being a good girl for Brenda now as her mouth curled over the nipples of Brenda's soft, yielding breasts. They hardened and jutted between Pat's lips under the insistent caressing of her tongue. Brenda parted her full thighs and her fleshy white asscheeks shimmered restlessly as Pat's lips went to her navel, hiden between two folds of flesh on her heaving belly. One of the hands urged Pat's dark bush-hair lower, and as the girl boldly mouth her intimate cuntlips with passionate rhythm, she wheezed happily.
"That's my good little girl!" Brenda screamed joyously as the fierce, uncontrollable spasms of release traversed her writhing cunt and entire body....
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Paula knew that the girls would have liked to have had a frigging session that evening, especially Pat. Even though she had pleaded a headache, and told them to run along she couldn't lie to herself.
Her problem was that she had come to the island home of her old sex companion, the only woman who had ever dominated her, Michele Duval. She had to face up to the fact that Michele was still part of her thinking. Perhaps it would do her good to admit to herself that she had come here because Michele was here-that she actually wanted to see the beautiful Michele Duval again.
No sooner said than done. Hastily donning sweater and shorts, Paula got started. In front of Michele's place, she hesitated in nervous apprehension, then gathered her courage and went inside on trembling legs.
A girl introduced herself as Yvette and told her that the mistress of the house was busy at the moment. But if Miss Jardine would go up to the suite and wait, she was sure that Michele would be along shortly.
In Michele's boudoir, Paula poured a stiff drink and slugged it down. It steadied her and she filled the glass again. From downstairs she could hear blatant noises of revelry-and of hump pleasures less hilarious but just as keen. Some of the squealing sounds appalled her and she swallowed the whiskey in great gulps.
But it didn't help much. With her head starting a slow spin, the old fear burst out anew and shattered her nerve. Paula set the drink down and made for the door, no longer able to face the tyrannical Michele.
Too late!
Before she could reach it, the door swung open and Michele entered. In a form-fitting evening gown, the woman had evidently been supervising her place of business. Flushed and perspiring, she nodded a greeting and dropped into a chair.
"So it's you," she said bluntly. "And high time, too.
Paula, why haven't you come to see me?"
"-I-"
"Never mind. I'd rather not listen to excuses. Fix me a drink, will you? Scotch, straight."
Again Paula was tempted to march right out the door. Michele was so overbearing. Yet there was something fascinating about her imperious manner. Although she was only of medium height, Michele radiated power and authority. Paula's resentful misery was interlaced with threads of excitement.
Anyway, she needed another drink. She fixed Michele's and replenished her own. Now she would face the woman bravely and get rid of the fear that had nagged her for so long. After tonight she would be free.
Michele took her drink and sipped it. "Good. Not that it takes much talent to pour booze. Still, you do have other talents if I remember rightly."
"Talents?"
"You know what I mean. Talents that I once appreciated. I expect to appreciate them again."
"Michele, I didn't come here to-"
"Be quiet. Listen to me. It doesn't matter what you came for. You're here now and that's all that counts. I don't even care to discuss it Right now all I'm interested in is getting out of this dress. Come help me."
Paula's reaction was automatic. Then, halfway to the woman's chair, she stopped. But the alcohol was a pit of fire in her stomach and it was burning her resolution and reducing it to a heap of ashes. Her brain reeled. Her body swayed. A moment later she was doing Michele's bidding.
"Paula, you're drunk."
"Yes. I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize. I'm glad you're drunk. As a matter-of-fact, I like you that way." Michele lifted herself from the chair and let her gown slip away. "You probably feel better than I do right now. I'm tired. My feet hurt."
"It's these shoes." Paula knelt and pulled the stilt-heeled pumps off. In sympathy, she kneaded the nylon-clad feet with her hands for a moment.
"Mmmmm, I love that." Michele's tone was throaty. 'Take my stockings off and do it some more."
Paula's fingers quivered as they gazed the smooth thighs and worked on the garter fasteners. One by one, she removed the filmy nylons. There was pure perfection in the shapely symmetry of the bare legs.
Eyes glittering, Michele leaned back and sighed dreamily. Paula's hands rubbed the curved arches; her fingers slipped between the delicate toes.
"Ah yes, Paula, you do have talent. Talent that I'm going to put to good use."
It was an odd sort of compliment, but Paula felt pleased as she continued her manipulations. There was that implied threat, too, but it didn't bother her now. The very touch of Michele was enough to turn her limp with longing. She was dimly aware that her last vestige of will was draining away. The liquor had done its work well. The liquor and Michele.
"Enough," the woman said. "I'm going to take a shower now. Wait for me." She stood up and peeled out of her lingerie, then strode toward the bathroom.
The sight of her naked body made Paula go tense. The lovely breasts. The deliciously domed buttocks. The slim waist flaring outward to rounded hips. For an instant she wished that Michele had invited her into the shower with her.
The woman was marvelous. Paula knew that all her caution had been worthless. Away from Michele she was strong and powerful. But here in the presence of her nemesis, she was nothing. Just a creature. An object and humble thing. A thing with no will of her own. A lowly thing that would derive pleasure out of
"Paula!"
"Yes, Michele?"
"Come here and help me." The demanding voice sounded above the gush of the shower. "And you'd better get undressed, too, or your clothes will get wet"
She tossed off her garments hurriedly and trotted to the bathroom. The water stopped running and Michele stood in the shower stall, her body dripping wet. With legs apart, her very stance implied a kind of majestic authority.
"Soap me, Paula. All over."
The command came as a shock. Paula felt touch of dismay, and yet there was a tug of desire in her loins. She took the cake of soap and went to work. With both hands she coated the woman's arms and breasts and upper torso with frothy lather.
Then her hands moved lower, grazing the intimate softness of the faintly curved belly and dipping down to bedaub and smear the insides of the straddled thighs. A small upward motion brought her into a fleeting contact with velvety cuntlips that made her temples throb and she attempted a quick repetition of it.
"Not yet," Michele said brusquely. "Everything else first. Do my feet and legs first"
Paula stooped to obey. But the crouching position was uncomfortable and at last she settled to the wet tile floor, curving her long limbs under her in order to fit inside the tiny cubicle. With her head bowed, she soaped the dainty feet as Michele balanced and raised them one at a time to allow her solicitous hands free access to the soles and arches.
Then, as the woman grunted in satisfaction, Paula slid her slippery palms up the ankles and calves. Desire overwhelmed her at the touch of the foamy slickness. Impulsively-as if they were acting of their own volition-her fingers raced upward in search of that intimate vaginal contact once again.
Michele stiffened in refusal. "Quit that. You're rushing too fast. You haven't finished my legs yet."
Chastened, Paula complied and went on with her labors. When she finally reached the upper thighs, Michele turned around and then assumed her straddle-legged stance again. Permission was implicit in her very posture, and Paula resoaped her hands and gave her attention to the firmly jutting asscheeks that quivered and then went taut under her ministrations.
A moment later the muscles turned lax and let Paula's fingers steal into the wet cuntlips between the soft domes. She moved hesitantly, not knowing how far she might go. But from above her there was a sharp sound of indrawn breath as she fingered Michele's clitoris, and then she heard the words that spurred her on.
"Yes ... there...."
Paula worked with renewed vigor.
"Careful! Your nails. Don't scratch me." I m sorry.
It took a long time. Michele liked Paula's fingering of her cunt, but couldn't come that way. Then Michele's body rotated again and positioned itself for the ultimate cleansing. That took a long time, too. Even though Paula's heart thumped madly and swelled as if it might burst from her bosom, she retained control of her senses and performed her delicate task with meticulous and painstaking precision.
"Now rinse me off." Michele twisted the knob and let the water spatter. It warmed immediately and she opened the valve full force. "With your hands."
The coating of lather was thick and it turned to great gobs of suds as Paula's cupped palms swept it downward. The slippery sensation was wonderful. Even after the soap was washed away, she wanted to go on and on like this.
But Michele was telling her something and in the noisy downpour she could not make out what it was. Then there were fingers in her hair, inexorable in their demand, guiding her head and turning it face upward until she was on her knees and no longer in doubt about the unheard words. Ah yes, she knew what Michele wanted of her. She was eager to Paula's upturned eyes slowly watched Michele's lovely curved thighs descend, white asscheeks quivered above her open mouth a moment, and then she was fulfilled. As she felt her mouth sense and caress the gliding wondrous intimate cuntlips of Michele, she knew what she had been yearning for. Her tongue probed the churning delight of Michele's inner cunthole with rhythmic zest.
She thrilled as the shapely buttocks began to dance lightly against her cheeks. Then suddenly Michele's wet cunt vibrated in the grip of dozens of ecstatic spasms.
"You have done well, ma cherie!" Michele gasped, writhing with blissful release.
To Paula this was the supreme compliment....
CHAPTER TWELVE
The stretch of beach Nikki and Burt had fled to when Brenda had descended upon them was calm, serene and protected. But as Nikki watched the waves break gently on the shore she was worried. The more she thought about Pat being abandoned by them to the tender mercies of the raging Brenda, the more dismayed she became.
Pat was only of medium height, and even though she was shapely and well-filled out, she had a slender body. In comparison, Brenda was taller and massive with a solid sensuality. The woman was so mad she might easily hurt the more fragile Pat badly. Nikki had seen the results of some girl fights and she knew how damaging even a light blow in a woman's more vulnerable areas could be. If Pat were seriously injured, she would never forgive herself. But following Burt had seemed like the simplest thing to do-and they had paddled around the jut of the dune to where the beach stretched low and flat again. Now, the big grassy mound was like a wall cutting off all connection with the scene in the cove on the other side.
She couldn't understand why Burt was taking it so calmly. After his mad dash into the ocean he had actually seen humor in the situation. Treading water and struggling to put his trunks back on, he had even started laughing until a wave choked off the sound and made him gasp for breath. And now, out of the cove, he didn't appear at all worried.
"But it wasn't right to run away like that. Burt, if anything happens to the kid, I'll feel as if-"
"Nothing will happen. I know Brenda too well. She flies into a rage, but it soon passes. Anyway, I'm the one she was mad at, not Pat. If I had stayed, there would have been a real fight. That's why I ran. If she had raised a hand to me, I might have killed her. This way it will all blow over. Brenda has probably gone by now."
"You think so?"
"Sure. We've been here nearly a half hour, I'd guess. So it must be all over."
"I hope so. But I'm still worried."
"Don't be. While we're here, how about telling me what you were going to? About Paula-remember? You promised to fill me in on the details about all her kicks."
"Uh-huh. But not now, Burt. I'm too worried. Until I'm certain that it's-"
"Okay, okay." Burt stood up from the sand. "I'll swim out and take a look."
"Yes. That's a fine idea."
He loped toward the shore line and plunged in. In a powerful crawl-stroke he swam for a distance and then angled his direction until he was past the dune. She saw him wave and gesture with an upraised arm and a moment later the sound of his voice floated to her ears.
"Nikki! Come on. They're gone."
Relief welled up inside her. If both Brenda and Pat had left, the fracas couldn't have been serious. At least there were no dead bodies lying around.
The weight of worry lifted. As Nikki splashed into the water, she began to feel good again. It had been a wild adventure, really, but that was all. An adventure. No harm done. Why let it spoil this beautiful night?
The water swirled around her. Burt was floating on his back and spewing up a stream like a blowing porpoise. His body had a kind of weird shine in the moonlight, a glow that was almost incandescent. Out here under the black star-flecked dome there was a timeless tranquility.
"Nikki, look. I think I see the blanket"
"Oh?"
"Yeah, it's there, all right. What do you say? Shall we go back into the cove?"
"Why not? Come on, I'll race you."
"It's a deal. Go!"
Nikkis' stroke was smooth, but even with a head start she was no match for Burt. He passed her halfway in and her arms turned to lead as her strength gave out Back on the shore in a secluded cove they shook the sand out of the blanket and fell upon it exhausted.
Then, abruptly, he kissed her. His mouth, hot and wet and demanding, sent a ripple of delight through her. For a long moment she accepted his embrace; then-rather reluctantly-she pushed him away.
"Not like that, Burt."
"No?"
"You want to know about Paula, don't you? Well, that's what I'm going to tell you now."
"Sure, but-"
"Better still, I'll show you. Would you like that, Burt? Would you like me to show you what Paula wants? Do you want to learn how to make love to her?"
He shrugged. "I'm game. What's her secret?"
"It's no secret. Just watch the way Paula acts and you'll understand. She's bossy. Domineering. She sets herself up as a goddess and insists on being worshiped. That's Paula. Now are you still interested?"
"Of course I am. Anyway, the idea doesn't scare me. But what were you going to show me, Nikki? Is there some special trick that she goes for?"
"All the tricks and that's what I'll show you." Wriggling around on the blanket, Nikki shed the two pieces of her bikini hastily. "All the tricks-starting right now. No, you don't have to undress. Keep your trunks on."
"Huh? Why?"
"Because it's my body we're interested in, not yours. Or it's Paula's body, rather. Only I'm taking her place. Worship me, Burt that's the way to learn."
"Sure baby. Like this?"
"No! Not my breasts. You haven't earned the right to touch them yet. And you won't either, unless you pay attention to what I'm saying. If you act like the strong, manly type with Paula, she'll just laugh at you. And so will I. Because I'm playing Paula's role now-and that role calls for you to be my slave. Do you understand. You're my slave."
"Okay, okay, so I'm your slave. Big deal. So what do you want me to do?"
"Worship me. Kiss my feet"
"Oh...."
"Well? What are you waiting for? Do it! Or are you going to chicken out?"
"Don't call me chicken, baby. I'll show you-"
"Shut up! Shut up and do it!"
In an abrupt movement, Nikki twisted her naked body around and jammed the sole of her foot against his mouth. He grunted at the impact and then pulled back.
"It's sandy. Baby, what are you trying to do? You wouldn't want me to get a mouthful of sand would you?"
"Hah! A little sand never hurt anyone. But brush it off if you want. Uh-huh. No more sand. Now do it. Kiss it. Let me feel your mouth."
"Ummm...."
"That's it. The toes. Lick my feet and remember that you're a slave. Not a man, just a slave. Yes, like that. Open your mouth wide and swallow me."
Burt kissed. Presently Nikki recognized that he was getting into the spirit of the thing. As if she successfully pushed him over the brink of simple normalcy and into the abyss of complex perversion.
When she gave him her other foot, he made no complaints about the sand. Without hesitation, he leeched his lips to her toes and took them into his mouth. His tongue laved and a low moan sounded in his throat. But he kept on licking. Until there was no longer a square inch of skin or nails on both her feet that had not been gone over.
"Now kiss your way up to my breast. Slowly, slowly. And don't stop along the way. Uh-huh. Ah, yes."
For a little while, Nikki let herself relax. This much the guy already knew. There was no need to instruct him in how to kiss a woman's tits. In fact, he was quite good at it, she realized. Remarkably so. She was struck with the awareness that without any of this perverse nonsense that she was teaching him, he would have been an excellent lover. The kind of male hump-artist that any normal woman would want.
But Paula wasn't normal. Nikki was bent on keeping her promise. This was what Paula wanted this slavishness-and if the guy cared about winning himself a soft and cozy berth of thousand-dollar bills, he would have to learn it.
Nikki was a fine instructor. Dominating a male wasn't her kick, but she had done it often enough. Was there ever a hooker who hadn't? The need was prevalent in many men. Even big strong masculine men had it, this need that was so bizarre and yet not uncommon. They couldn't put their own wives on a pedestal, so they paid a prostitute and then treated her like a queen. She could scarcely recall how many clients had come to her for that kind of mixed-up pleasure. Now Burt was getting the benefit of her experience.
In a way, she hated it. She hated Burt for being so money-hungry that he was willing to do anything just to get in good with Paula. She hated herself for being a commercial hooker and not daring to be honest enough to tell him so. She hated what she was doing to him.
But what he was doing to her-ah no, she didn't hate that. Having her breasts kissed was delightful She wished it could go on forever. He was certainly an accomplished lover in his own forcefully gentle manner.
Only it couldn't go on. It would have to end soon. Because he was primed for the final step now and she had to demand it as Paula would. Besides, she was aroused enough so that her physical release from this built-up tension was fast becoming a dire necessity.
"Burt...."
"Hmmmm?"
"Here. This. Now."
"Huh?"
"Do it! Show me what a good slave you are." She clamped her hands on top of his head and shoved him downward towards her moist cuntlips.
He bent. Then her buttocks arched from the blanket and she tossed and gyrated to the urgency of his seeking lips on her cunt and her thighs jerked and twitched and looped around his neck to lock him into place.
"That's the way," she muttered. "That's the way you'll have to make love to Paula."
"Paula?" His head broke loose and shot up. "The hell with Paula. I'm making love to you. You hear me, Nikki?
Don't talk to me about anyone else."
"Yes, of course, but-"
"Now you shut up! I've had enough of this. I've played your little game, but now it's finished."
"Burt, don't. What are you doing?"
"Doing? You'll see what I'm doing. I'm acting like the strong, manly type. You want to laugh? Okay, baby, go ahead and laugh."
He yanked his trunks off. Then he loomed over her ferociously, and with a single savage thrust of his big prick into her cunt, drove everything out of her mind. Everything but him. When he raised his body and hung and poised for an interminable moment, she contorted in a convulsion of desire.
Burt's powerful torso rolled comfortably into the welcoming saddle of her weaving, white thighs. Nikki gasped again at the power of his bull-like cock-thrusts and then her belly and cunt swung into a practiced grind beneath him. He cupped her jiggling asscheeks and drew her vagina as close as possible as she met his pile-driving cock with her swiveling hips.
Burt groaned happily as a glowing bomb of ecstasy exploded in his loins. He threshed wildly as it mushroomed through his whole body and he shot jet after jet of hot sperm into her eager cunt. Surprising herself, Nikki squealed ecstatically as she triggered into peak bliss with Burt, her hips dancing wildly under his cock's orgasmic thrusts.
"I didn't think any man could make that happen to me," she mumbled later as they lay in each others arms.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
All was peaceful at Brenda's lovely Villa Pleasance as the morning sun rose above the Caribbean. Nikki would have been surprised at what the first rays darting through the blinds of Brenda's luxurious bedroom revealed.
Pat's body was cozily curled up against Brenda's billowing bulges in the huge double bed. Her close-cropped black-haired head was gently rising and falling as it lay pillowed on Brenda's comfortable tits. One of Brenda's hands was reposing between Pat's soft thighs, gently frigging her moist cuntlips.
Their conversation as they awoke would have surprised Nikki even more.
"Mummmy Brenda, it feels so good when you move your hand down there!" Pat said sleepily.
"Yes, darling."
"Cuddle me. Please? "Mmm ... so sweet ... "
"Ouch, my titty!"
"Oh. I'm sorry. I forgot."
"It's okay."
"But it isn't. Let me look. Oh, I'm so ashamed. I guess I really walloped you. Does it hurt much?"
"Uh-huh. But I don't care. After all, it brought us together, didn't it?"
"You darling. What a perfectly marvelous thing to say. Pat, I never felt like this before."
"Me neither. It's really something, huh?"
"I've never known anything like it. And so crazy, the way it happened. I went to the beach to look for Burt last night and instead I found you."
"You found Burt too."
"Of course. But after the first couple of minutes I didn't even know he was alive. What's more, I didn't care You were the only one in the world for me."
"I'm glad."
"And you still are. The only one, Pat. I mean it. I'll never let you go. Never."
"That's the way I feel, too. I don't want to go. I'd like to stay with you forever. Can I? Brenda, can I stay and be your little girl forever?"
"Yes. Oh, I want you to. But why are you looking like that? Is that sadness I see on my little sweetheart's pretty face? What's the matter, darling?"
"It's only pretend, that's what's the matter. Because I have to go back to Paula."
"Well, yes, you do now. Today, I mean. But then you can pack your things and move in with me. So what is there to be sad about?"
"It-it can't happen. Paula won't let me. Brenda, I did something bad once and I think she knows about it. She's never said anything, but I can tell. She got a letter that had the postmark of the town where I used to live. But that didn't bother me and I wasn't in the least bit worried. I didn't care what she found out. But now I do. If she wants to, Paula can keep me from coming here to live with you."
"You did something bad? Tell me."
"I-I'd rather not. It really isn't important, except that Paula might use it against me. Especially if I left her to be with you. She's so possessive. Sometimes she acts like she owns me. And she does, I guess."
"Nobody owns you but me. You're mine, Pat because you want to be. Last night was like a revelation for me; it was something brand-new and wonderful and I don't want to lose it I'll fight Paula tooth and nail for you."
"No. You mustn't fight her. It would only get me into deeper trouble. Well have to find some other way."
"Well find it. But you'll have to tell me what it's all about, don't you see that? I've got to know what kind of a hold Paula has over you."
"I'll tell you. I want to. I'll tell you everything there is to know about me. But not now. Please? I don't want to feel sad anymore. Cuddle me?"
"Mmmmm, yes."
"Oooooh!"
"Hurt? Shall I kiss it and make it well?"
"No. Just hold me."
"Mummy's baby girl...."
Morning. Heavy draperies shutting out the sunlight and holding in the stench of alcohol and sex. Bright-plumaged Lazurian birds chirping welcome to the new-born day to awaken veterans of a thousand hang-overs. Morning in the house (a house that was not a home) of Michele Duval.
"You're awake, Paula?"
"I'm up. How could anybody sleep with those loud-mouthed nightingales playing rock'n'roll out there?"
"In a mood, eh? Bad?"
"Awful. All that booze."
"Next time don't drink so much."
"Next time, Michele? Hah!"
"No?"
"Never. I got it out of my system last night. All out. There won't be any next time."
"You're sure of that, yes?"
"Positive. And what are you grinning about? Why so smug? Don't you believe me?"
"Was I grinning, Paula? Yes, I suppose I was. Because I was thinking of last night."
"Oh...."
"Remember?"
"I'm doing my best to forget. You'll never make me do those things again, Michele, I swear it. I'm cured. It's over. That kind of perverted filth is just too-"
"Hush, dear, don't be angry. And who is to judge what is good and what is bad? Filth to one person might mean roses to another. Besides, you liked it, didn't you?"
"I hated it."
"Oh? Then why did you do it? The things you call filth, Paula, why didn't you stop me?"
"Don't you know? Because I was drunk. So drunk I couldn't see straight. You knew only too well how to take advantage of my condition."
"That's the only reason? You were drunk?"
"Blind drunk."
"And now? How do you feel now?"
"Miserable. I'm hung over, Michele. I feel lousy and I'd like to get some more sleep. So if you chase those gossipy birds away...."
"Never mind the birds. Are you drunk now?"
"Of course not. Shaky, but not-"
"Then look at me."
"Huh? What for?"
"Don't ask questions. Just look."
"What are you trying to do, hypnotize me?"
"I don't have to Paula. Just our being here together is enough. You can't escape me. Drunk or sober, it makes no difference. You can't escape. Don't you realize that?"
"Oh, you're being silly."
"Am I? Look at me. Look at my body and remember the thrill it gave you. Did anyone else in the world ever give you that kind of thrill? Could you live without it? If I said no to you, wouldn't you beg for the privilege of sucking my pussy? I can make you do that, my dear. You know I can. I've already proved it. You think I care about how much whiskey you drink or don't drink? It's nothing. Nothing compared to how much you need what I can give you."
"I ... I ... "
"It's hard to say, hum? The words won't come out. You know why? I'll tell you. Because when you deny me, you deny the truth. You deny yourself. Between us there can be no walls, Paula. We are interlocked in the same picture. You need me-and you must recognize that I have need of you."
"You-you need me?"
"Of course. You make me complete. Come, my dear, touch me. Give me your hand. Feel how my cunny quivers with longing. Longing for your lips my shy and submissive maiden. For you, Paula. Here. See? See how it throbs?"
"Oh."
"Ah, how nice. I love your fingers. So talented. And your lips, too. Give me your talented lips."
"Please, Michele, I-I-"
"You don't want to? Shall we let it end? If so, then let's say goodbye with a kiss. Give me your lips."
"No-yes-oh, it isn't good-by. I'm all mixed up. Let me go to the bathroom and wash my face."
"Yes. We'll go together, Paula. I haven't been to the bathroom yet, either. Come. I have need of you."
Morning. Brilliant sunlight beaming down upon blue-green ocean and silven-gold sand. St. Lazure in all it's natural beauty. Morning on the beach, bringing to life the blanket-wrapped cocoon with its twin larvae.
"Hey!"
"Ummm...."
"It's daylight. Burt, wake up."
"Uh-huh."
"No. I'm serious. I know it's early, but if you want to sleep some more we ought to put our suits back on. What if someone were to come by?"
"Nobody will. Not here in the cove. Unless they're looking for us, and I don't know anyone who would get up at the crack of dawn to take that trouble."
"Oh. Back to sleep then?"
"Fat chance. Nikki, all of a sudden I'm not so sleepy. I wonder why. Two naked people wrapped in a blanket shouldn't have any problems going to sleep, should they?"
"We didn't last night. No problems at all. Must have been because we were tired, huh?"
"Seems logical. Aren't you tired now?"
"Somehow, no. Burt, are you?"
"I'm not sure."
"Ask a foolish question, you'll get a foolish answer. Not sure, hummmm? Okay, I'd better check for myself."
"Nikki what are you-"
"Be still. I'm checking."
"I'll say you are."
"And I'm getting results that aren't so negative. No, you're definitely not tired enough to sleep."
"Rascal. With that kind of checking, how could anyone possible be tired?"
"Don't blame it on me."
"No? Who then?"
"You can blame it all on yourself. It's what you get for being the strong, manly type."
"Oh? Young lady, do I detect a note of laughter in your tone when you call me that?"
"No laughter. Only a smile. A smile of fond memory."
"Even a smile is too much. Stop it."
"I can't."
'I'll make you."
"Will you? Burt, is mat a promise?"
"It most certainly is. A promise that I'm going to keep. No more laughing for you."
"So who's laughing?"
"That includes smiling, too. That's how strong and manly I feel mis morning."
"Um ... yes ... I see what you mean."
"You see?"
"Well, no, I don't exactly see. Shall I duck my head under the blanket and-"
"Don't bother."
"Oh? Okay, mister strong-manly, got any other ideas? I'm willing to listen to reason. I'm willing to-oh!-Burt, what are you doing?"
"I'll give you three guesses-and the first two don't count. Now shut up and give me a little cooperation. Let's get this blanket uh-huh that's better."
"That's much-"
Burt panted as his big dick thrust into the curving softness of her belly and welcoming cuntlips. Nikki began a teasing grind under him and felt his throbbing prick straining against her vaginal walls. Burt pulled her weaving legs even further apart and she yelped with pleasure as he drove his cock right into her twat up to the very hilt with a powerful thrust. Nikki's asscheeks gleamed with writhing grace as they ground to match Burt's plunging desire.
Her strong legs gripped his torso like a vise as her feet wound around his back.
"You're a real man, love," she cried out "I can't keep from coming another second!"
Shuddering, threshing wildly in Burt's grip, her cunt strained in the throes of peak bliss. Burt's cock arced into her seething vagina with a jackknifing lunge, he groaned deeply as fiery sperm fountained in spurting, creamy jets from his cock into her cunt.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Michele Duval was not surprised when the beauteous Diane Gaylord paid another visit to the LeClub Gala. Michele even felt a stirrings of a personal interest in the actress. As a connoisseur of feminine beauty on two continents, she appreciated Diane's incomparable natural assets of face and figure. Always the business woman, she found herself wishing she had a houseful of girls built like Diane and was twenty-one again in the Place Pigalle. At today's prices for a piece of ass she'd be a millionairess in no time....
Her cool was a little shaken by Diane's blunt request for Goldie, to go back with her to Hollywood.
"You mean it?" Michele shook her head in amazement. "You want to take her away with you?"
"Uh-huh. That's it exactly."
"You like Goldie that much?"
"I like her, Michele, but there's more to it than that. In my business, I have to be comparatively discreet about my private life. Sometimes I feel as if I'm practically living in a goldfish bowl. Frankly I'm a pretty sexy female whose pussy needs plenty of attention and you know the kind I mean. So I'm happiest when I've got a personal maid around to attend me."
"Oh. You want to hire Goldie as a maid, hmmmm?"
"I sure do. Only she'll be a lot more than just a maid, of course. And I'll be good to her."
"Diane, did you speak to her about it?"
"Just a mention. When she told me she belonged to you, I didn't press it any further. I must say you've certainly trained her well."
Michele chuckled. "I'm glad to hear you say it. But I can't take all the credit. Goldie was born to serve. It's her basic nature-as you probably realize by now."
"True. That's why I want her so badly. She's a slave girl at heart and she actually enjoys being what she is. She didn't bow down to me because she was paid to but because she wanted to. And it made me feel like a queen. Not a phony movie queen either, but a real-life one."
"Yes, I know the feeling. But in this day and age, we can't own slaves, you know, much as I wish we could. So Goldie is very well paid here. Not that she needs money, but I do bank a goodly sum for her every month. She doesn't care, really, but when she's older and has lost some of her youthful charm and beauty, the money will come in handy."
"Oh, I think that's fine, Michele. I'd continue to do the same thing if she was mine. Rest assured of that. Goldie would be well provided for-now and in the future. I'd definitely arrange that if you gave her-or sold her-to me."
"You think I'd sell her?" Michele's brows shot up. "No, I couldn't do that. Give her, yes, if I decide it's right, but I wouldn't take money for her."
"Well, if you did charge me something I wouldn't be offended or surprised. After all, business is business. Goldie's presence in the house must bring in a good-sized bit of income. I wouldn't want to rob you of it."
A sudden thought struck Michele. Wasn't there a possibility of some real assistance here? A solution to her problem? The movie star was rich and famous and had many contacts among the wealthy class. Wasn't this a golden opportunity?
"Diane, can you keep a secret?"
"Try me."
Michele peered into the violet eyes and liked what she-aw. There was sincerity in them, and she felt instinctively that this person could be trusted. Anyway, she couldn't go on hiding this painful thing inside herself forever.
"Yes. I'm going to trust you. I'm going to tell you something that no one else on the island knows. Even if it doesn't seem clear to you at first, there's a reason for my telling you. An excellent reason, I might say."
Puzzlement settled upon Diane's lovely features. "Shoot. Don't keep me in suspense. What's the big secret?"
"Just this. I'm a sick woman. Sick enough so that I don't have long to live unless I retire from business. Oh, you needn't offer sympathy; I've lived well and I'm not griping. But I'm planning to buy a little farm some where on the mainland and just take it easy. That's my secret."
"I won't spill it. You do have my sympathy, Michele. But why are you telling me?"
"Because I need your help. I want to sell out. The house and all the business and it's not the kind of thing I can put an advertisement in the newspapers for. So I can only find a buyer through someone like yourself. Someone who understands."
"You-you want me to find you a buyer? Is that it?"
"If you can, Diane, yes, that's it. It really shouldn't be too difficult. The price will be fair. Even here on the island there are many likely prospects. Brenda Kenyon, for instance. Or Paula Jardine. Only I can't approach them myself. If there's any suspicion that I'm anxious to sell, the price will drop right down to nothing. Especially if somebody learns of my visits to the doctor and puts two and two together. Now do you understand?"
"Yes. Although it's pretty complicated. I'm not at all sure if I can handle it."
"Will you try?" Michele smiled. "There's something in it for you too, of course. Every salesman gets a commission. You know what yours will be, don't you?"
Diane's eyes lit up. "Goldie?"
"Goldie. If you fail, well, I still won't disappoint you. You're too nice a person for that, so I'm really not bargaining with you. I'm asking a favor, let's say. Fair enough?"
"More than fair. How could I refuse?"
"You'll do it then? Act as my intermediary? Talk to Brenda and Paula and perhaps-"
"Hold it. Brenda is out. Oh, I'll mention the idea to her, but I know she won't go for it. Paula, though, might be the right one. She and I get along fine. Sure, I'll do it. And it will make me feel much better about taking Goldie away from you. She's such a treasure-and this way I'll be winning her, won't I?"
"You can call it that, Diane. But there's one other thing I'll have to ease my mind about. I want to know how Goldie feels about you. It can wait, of course, but I'd like to ask her and get it over with soon. Even right now, if it's all right with you. Shall I call the girl in and see?"
"Okay." Diane giggled nervously. "Hey, you know something? All of a sudden I've got the jitters. Like a young man worrying about how to propose to his sweetie. But call her in and let's do it, huh?"
Michele nodded and went to the door. In the hallway she found one of the girls and told her to send Goldie in. A few minutes later, the delectable copper-skinned little creature appeared, garbed as usual in her cap, apron and high heels.
"You want me, Miss Michele?" Then the big velvety eyes fell on the guest in the room and Goldie gasped and seemed momentarily flustered. "Oh, it's you, Miss Diane. Good afternoon. I'm very glad to see you again."
"Are you, Goldie? Really?" Diane's expression was tense. "I hope so, my dear. I certainly hope so."
"Let's not get our girl confused," Michele said. "Goldie, there's a chance that you might go and live with Miss Diane in California. Would you like that?"
"I-I'm not sure. It's up to you, Miss Michele. I'll do what you say. If you want me to go-"
"Wait dear. I'll put it this way. Were you happy with Miss Diane the other night?"
"Oh, yes, very happy."
"Could you, uh, could you learn to love her?"
"Love her?" The big limpid eyes fell in embarrassment. Then, in a strained voice, "But-but I do love her."
Michele raised the girl's chin and peered at her. "I'll be darned," she said. "It's true. You hear that, Diane? You've made a conquest." She tapped the dark cheek. "Go. Go show Miss Diane how much you love her."
Like an arrow from a bowstring, Goldie raced across the floor. Uttering a tiny moan of desire, she sank down upon the carpet and embraced Diane's legs with both her arms.
"Michele?" Diane's voice was throaty with obviously rising passion. "Can we ... uh ... have ourselves a little frigging session?"
"Of course. I want you to. You can get undressed and use my bed if you like."
"Thanks. Later, perhaps. Right now I'll just sit here and let Goldie show me how much she loves me. You do love me, don't you, my darling? Goldie?"
"Oh, yes. I love you."
"Do you want to belong to me? Of your own choice, do you want to belong to me alone?"
The girl bent low and placed a kiss upon the toes of each of Diane's shoes. Then she lifted her head and looked up in adoration. "I love you, Miss Diane. I want to belong to you."
Diane raked up her skirt. "Show me."
The creamy thighs gleamed. Goldie's body curved; the tiny cap fell from her hair and tumbled to the floor. Her face vanished from view, the back of her dark hair presenting a striking contrast to the pale skin of Diane's limbs. The bowed arc of her spine rippled visibly.
Michele cleared her throat. "Diane?"
"Yes?"
"I'll leave you now. I'd better go and check up on things around the house. So take all the time you want and have fun. You'll make an effort for me, won't you? About that little business deal we talked about?"
"You know I will. Thank you, Michele. Goldie and I will get along just fine."
The darker gleam of Goldie's skin made a vivid foil against Diane's blonde whiteness as she lay languidly on the bed. Goldie's little red tongue darted and flicked against Diane's crimson, jutting nipples on the mounds of her tits more fully and let her hands massage her thighs and asscheeks. Tenderly, Goldie's hands crept to the intimacies of Diane's moist cuntlips. Her lips followed, and Diane's creamy, white skin glowed with desire as her hot twat wriggled lustfully.
She gasped with satisfaction as Goldie's lips moved to the most sensitive spot of all. Goldie's tongue was like liquid fire as her lips nibbled and tantalized her erecting clitoris.
"You're my slave," Diane screamed joyously, "but I love what you're doing! Oh, Goldie!"
Her buttocks and legs flailed with frenzied peak pleasure as she came while Goldie's tongue cave her the most thrilling cunt-lapping of her life.
"Beverly Hills was never like this!" Diane panted happily as she watched Goldie swallowing and licking her hot cunt-juice from her thrilling vagina.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Paula noticed that whenever she embraced Pat's lissome figure, or asked the saucy, dark-haired beauty to embrace her, the girl became very moody. When she gave her pussy it was with reluctance. It was one of those mornings that she wanted to feel Pat's pert breasts against her, that Pat made to leave the room with some excuse. Paula stopped her.
"What's been eating you lately, Pat?" she asked crossly. "You've been backing away from me as if I've got the worst case of B.O. on record. Out with it!"
"It's just that I thought I'd like to get a job in town and be on my own," Pat said.
Pat was naive, but she was smart enough not to hint to Paula that she yearned to live with Brenda Kenyon. Paula liked the combination of the artful experience of the lovely Nikki, plus the youthful freshness and enthusiasm that Pat brought to their frigging sessions. She wasn't one to let her go easily of a person who could thrill her jaded cunt lusts.
"You're best off with me, Pat," Paula said with a knowing smile. "I happen to have a little press clipping about a breakout from Longwood by a Jennie Gall that convinces me I'm right...."
So it didn't make much sense to get Paula angry. Although that happened easily of late. For some reason, Paula seemed to be in a constant state of irritation. It took very little to get her temper boiling.
"I'm sorry," Pat said apologetically. "I'll do whatever you say. But I'm not a prisoner, am I? Is it all right if I go out and see Brenda once in a while?"
"Brenda ugh! That fat slob. How anyone could want her is more than I can understand. Thinks she owns the island just because she's lived here a long time. Oh, all right, go and see her if you must."
"May I go now?"
"Hmmm, you are anxious. Too anxious, you stupid little wretch. You have no consideration for me. It's obvious that my happiness doesn't mean a thing to you."
"Paula, I'll do anything you ask me to. I've told you that. So please don't say-"
"Oh, be quiet. Yes, you can see Brenda. But come here first and take care of me. Before you go, I want to use that whinning mouth of yours."
Pat shuddered. But the thought of being with Brenda later made her accept her task bravely. The task that she knew would be demanded of her. As she moved to the bed, Paula's imperative gesture told her that she had guessed rightly. It was the same cunt-lapping she had been called upon to perform often. She only hoped it would be finished soon.
She lay face up on the pillow, staring at the ceiling and waiting. Then, without further preliminaries, Paula's hot, moist cunt loomed above her face and blotted out all vision. There was a moment of wriggling adjustment as Pat's tongue sought to please. Then the hairy cuntlips began rocking back and forth at an ever-increasing tempo across Pat's mouth.
Pat fought for breath. The hairy vagina encompassing her cheekbones was suffocating. But she strove mightily to give the woman what she wanted. Actually, she wouldn't have minded so much if Paula had been nicer about it In a way it was like a punishment, and was exciting.
But she knew she wasn't being punished. Paula was merely using her. Her mouth-that was all Paula wanted. That was why Paula refused to let her go. To Paula she wasn't a human being, she was just a mouth. Convenient to have around.
Funny thing. Revolted as this ugly kind of cunt-lapping made her, Pat knew she would have gladly done it with Brenda. Only Brenda, of course, wasn't like that. Brenda was too sweet and maternal to be so callous to her little girl. In fact, there were moments when Brenda was even too sweet. Except for that time on the beach there were no "Yes ... Wow!"
It was Paula's moment and Pat did her best to tongue her clitoris frantically and bring the woman to an explosive spasm. It came. Passed. As the drained figure collapsed in exhaustion, Pat breathed heavily and regained her strength. Presently the faint noise of slow, regular breathing told her that Paula was asleep and that for the moment, at least, the prison doors were open and the prisoner was free.
Abruptly aflame with anticipation, Pat hurried. In no time at all, she was pedaling one of the bicycles away from the house, her face washed, her teeth brushed, her hair done up in the pony tail that Brenda was so fond of.
As last they were together. In Brenda's bedroom they kissed and cuddled for a little while, but then the topic cropped up and they had to talk about it The topic. The one uppermost in both their worried minds.
"Brenda, I asked her again. But there's no change. Paula just won't let me go."
"Mean. That's what she is. Just plain mean. Do you think she'd really contact the authorities about you?"
"I'm sure of it. Oh, I could run away, no doubt, and disappear on the mainland and would never get caught. But that would mean leaving you."
"No, you mustn't think of running away. We're going to work it out right, darling. From what you've told me, your crime wasn't so terrible. I'm sure Paula could get it fixed and forgotten if she really wanted to. I could almost do it myself except that I've been here on St. Lazure so long that I've lost all my contacts on the mainland."
"Paula could do it? Really?"
"Yes. She has a high social reputation in the states.
Big donor to charity-that sort of thing. One word from her would turn the trick."
"Brenda, what are we going to do? I've begged Paula, but it hasn't done the least bit of good. Could you possibly soften her up for me?"
"Oh, I've thought about it. Don't think I haven't. But Paula and I are rivals-not for you, but for leadership on die island. Only I'm way ahead of her, of course, and she hates me for it. She's a newcomer here and it makes her angry when people come and consult with me about what dates to plan their parties. She wants to be the social leader herself."
"What if you let her?"
"Let her?" Brenda bit her lip. "Ummm, I see what you're driving at. If I stopped giving parties and kind of dropped out of things, she could take over. Yes, dear, it might work. I'd be doing her a favor-for one in return. It's certainly something to think about."
"But then you'd be unhappy, wouldn't you? You're so proud of your social position here. Besides, she's been so touchy lately that I doubt if she'd even listen to you."
"Oh, I wouldn't talk to her myself. We'd probably scratch each other's eyes out at this point. But I could ask Diane to do it. Diane is pretty tactful and the two of them get along quite well. It's a good idea."
Pat shook her head. "I wish I hadn't mentioned it. Letting Paula win out over you, I mean. After a while you would begin to regret it and then-"
"Regret it? Oh, my sweet baby, there's only one thing I'll ever regret and that's losing you. Social position isn't important to me now. If I had you with me I wouldn't care about anything else. I'd plan my parties for just two people-you and me. And they would be wonderful parties, too."
"I know they would."
"Honey, I'm going to do it. I'll talk to Diane and ask her to be a go-between. My mind is made up. And now let's stop this worrying. Come. Mummy wants a kiss."
Pat surrendered her lips. The kiss was blissful and yet it didn't stir her, somehow. It lacked excitement. Oh, she loved Brenda, all right, but she just didn't get that thrill she had once felt. The delicious thrill on the beach.
Suddenly-on nothing but pure impulse-she bit hard on the woman's lower lip.
There was a gasp, a shriek, and Brenda shoved her away in momentary rage. "You-you bit me! My lip is bleeding. What did you do that for?"
"I-I just felt like it, that's all."
"You felt like it? That's your only reason? That's all you've got to say for yourself?"
"I guess I was naughty."
"Naughty!" Brenda glared wrathfully. "I'll say you were naughty. Don't ever do that again. Now behave yourself, young lady, and kiss me properly this time."
"No."
"No? Pat, what are you saying?"
"I'll bite you again."
"You'll what?"
"I'll bite you."
Brenda's eyes blazed. Then there was a flicker of comprehension in their depth and they became staring slits that took on a strange glitter.
"Naughty, eh?" Her great bosom heaved. "Do you know what happens to little girls who are naughty?"
Impishly, Pat stuck out her tongue. But deep inside her there was a fluttering sensation of warmth. Her breasts felt oddly swollen and sensitive. The warmth burgeoned and became a fire in the pit of her belly.
"Well, young lady?" Brenda's tone was abrasively harsh and the harsh. "Do you know what happens to little girls who are naughty? Answer me?"
"They-they get punished?"
'Yes. Like this!" Brenda's arm shot out and got a grip. "This is what happens. Well see if we can't cure you of that biting habit."
Abruptly, Pat was hauled over Brenda's lap. Passion mounted, but still she tried to struggle and get away. But a strong hand caught one wrist and then the other and pinned them both behind her back.
"You're hurting me," she cried.
"Hurting you? You haven't seen anything yet, you wicked girl. Do you realize I've got blood all over my lip? Don't you think that hurts, too?"
With her free hand, Brenda got busy. Pat's shorts came down, then her panties; both garments hung at her knees ignominiously. As her bare ass felt the touch of cool air, a weird sense of shame overwhelmed her. She was so vulnerable, so helpless, so abashed at being handled like a small child.
Vaguely she recalled that she had provoked it. Yet the memory was only a blurred shadow now-and the shame and fear and humiliation were all real. As the heavy hand cracked down, so was the pain. Real. Terribly real.
The hand swung again. And again. Pat writhed and twisted, but there was no escape. The steady whack-whack-whack of the flailing palm was inexorable.
"Naughty, eh? I'll show you. I'll cure you of that. When I'm through with you, young lady, you'll never be naughty again. Because you'll know what's coming if you do."
"Please ... I'll be good...."
"Begging won't help." The words were punctuated by sharp slaps. "You've got this coming to you. If it doesn't work, it will be worse next time. A hairbrush, maybe. Or a big thick paddle, if that's necessary."
Pat sobbed and then went limp. Her hands were released, but she made no effort to protect herself as the spanking went on. Her arms dropped to the floor; her legs hung in lax abandon. She recognized how right it all was. She was being punished. A naughty little girl always gets punished. A naughty little girl deserves to get punished.
"Bite me, will you? Next time you'll know better."
Next time"!
Pat raised her tear-stained face, and timidly began to kiss Brenda's naked tits. She saw that Brenda had stripped before spanking her and that her full white asscheeks overhung the narrow seat of the chair. Pat kept nibbling the large red nipples on Brenda's abundant knockers in turn, and was gratified to feel them stiffening like hard rubber between her teeth. Brenda began to tremble and utter pleasurable little sounds as Pat's hands caressed the lush fullness of her thighs and buttocks.
Pat bounded from Brenda's lap so that she could position her avid lips on Brenda's heaving belly. Pat's tongue darted to the center of her navel as it peeked out of the rolling folds of sensuous flesh. Pat slid to her knees before Brenda, and the older woman wriggled her heavy thighs forward as Pat thrust her face between her knees. Brenda emitted a throaty cry of satisfaction as she felt the eager warmth of Pat's lips on her cuntlips Pat's tongue began to dart and vibrate thrillingly as if found Brenda's secret pleasure spot, her rapidly stiffening clitoris.
The chair began to sway as Brenda's fleshy asscheeks ground and then heaved convulsively as a honey-sweet orgasm fountained through her from tip to toe.
She kept Pat's close-cropped head between her inner thighs, mouth against her drooling cuntlips, as she panted, "Now you're mummy's good girl. She forgives you for being naughty...."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
In the luxurious master bedroom of the Villa Jolie, Paula's sumptuous loveliness was undulating on the double bed. She was a real dark redhead all over, and her white skin with Nikki's tawny blonde head swaying between her thighs made a vivid picture. Paula's buttocks began to squirm and her breathing came in sharp gasps as Nikki's artfully stimulating mouth-rhythm became more rapid.
Nikki's soft lips were making white flashed of intense pleasure zing through her quivering flesh. She felt herself reaching her point of no return, where she usually crested off on mindless waves of pleasure. But now, in spite of Nikki's best cunt-lapping efforts she felt nothing, saw nothing but Michele's sultry, domineering face overwhelming her.
There was no hope, she knew. She would have to give up her home in St. Lazure. Unless she could put thousands of miles between them, she would always be subject to the fiendish tyranny of Michele. The woman was a devil. A she-devil-and this island was her domain.
Paula twitched and moved her hips meaningfully. The motion drew an immediate response from the leeching lips, but it didn't help much. Her burden was too great. Her island idyll was over and it had ended sourly.
In fact, about the only pleasing thing lately was the way that young writer was fawning over her. Burt Nestler. Maybe she would take him under her wing for a while. But men, no matter how handsome, just weren't very appealing. It was only too obvious that Burt was after her money. Oh well, perhaps a short affair might make her forget those humiliating moments under the pussy of Michele.
Downstairs, the doorbell sounded. Tightening her thighs to hold Nikki's hand in place, Paula lifted her head and raised her voice in a shout. "Pat? Who's at the door?"
The answer came as a surprise. "It's Miss Gaylord. Diane Gaylord wants to see you, Paula."
"Oh? Ask her to come up here, will you?" Hastily, brusquely, she dislodged Nikki. "No more now, sweetie. Get out a negligee for me, huh? And you'd better hand me that comb. I ought to do something about my hair."
It was probably just a friendly call, Paula figured, but it always paid to look her best. Perhaps Diane was seeking a bit of offbeat fun. That would be nice. Something to while away the hows and erase those ugly thoughts.
But as it turned out, Diane's interest lay in business rather thro in pleasure. She was friendly enough, naturally, but it was plain to see that she had something on her mind that was more important than a few hours of frigging.
Her news stunned Paula. "You mean it, Diane? Michele is thinking of leaving the island?"
"It's true. Oh, she isn't sure yet, but she's been complaining about how bored she is with St. Lazure. She's getting old, you know. I heard her say that if she could get a decent offer for her business, she'd sell out and buy a little farm somewhere back on the mainland. That's why I came here to see you."
"Me? Why me?"
"Well, I've become enchanted with St. Lazure. I might even buy a cottage here myself-nothing elaborate, of course, just a little vacation hideaway. Only it wouldn't be much fun if Michele's place wasn't open. I don't mean open, really, but swinging the way it is now. Some stupid square might get hold of it and run it into the ground. So I thought of you. Paula, if you bought Michele out it would be terrific."
"You're kidding. Me-a madam?"
"Why not? You could do it. Actually, there's a girl there who does most of the real work. Yvette, I think her name is-and she's pretty efficient. So you would just supervise and rake in the profits-not that money is an issue, I suppose. But think of the fun. All those Cute chicks jumping to obey every time you so much as snap your fingers. I've seen the way Michele bosses them around and believe me, it's a crazy scene."
"But-but I wouldn't know what to do. Still, it does sound interesting, I'll admit. How about Brenda? Did you talk to her about it?"
"Good grief, no. Brenda is an old friend, but she's exactly the kind of person who would ruin the place. She's much too inhibited. You're the one, Paula and it would make me happy to see you take over. I'd be a steady visitor-or customer, rather-every time I had a week or so between pictures. Anyway, it's an idea and I had to tell you about it."
"Thanks, Diane. I appreciate what you're doing. But there are all kinds of obstacles, frankly. For one thing, I have no idea what the place is worth. And for another, well, Michele and I don't get along too smoothly. I wouldn't even care to see her and discuss it"
"OH? In that case, I wouldn't mind going back and forth between you. I doubt if there'll be much haggling over price. If Michele really plans on selling, shell certainly draw up figures on the total value and make sure they're legal and accurate. So that won't be a problem. You can even sign the final papers separately, I imagine."
It sounded good to Paula. Far-fetched as it seemed, it was a solution to her problem. A way out. She could remain here on the island and never be troubled by Michele again. She would have no further qualms about accidentally bumping into the monstrous creature and tumbling into the disgusting abyss again. If owning the place didn't work out she could always turn right around and resell it, even at a loss if it came to that. With her kind of money, it would be worth any loss, practically, to get rid of the haunting apprehension that had her so upset lately. Yes, why not give it a try?
"Diane, you're a sweetheart. I'll do it. If what you say is true, I'm willing. Can you find out if Michele really wants to sell? If she does, I'm ready to talk business. Not directly, of course, but through you. Will you do it?"
"I'll be glad to."
"But it might mean a lot of work for you. You should get an agent's fee, at least, although I know better than offering you one. Still, I do feel indebted to you."
"Indebted, Paula? Hmmm, that's a thought. As a matter-of-fact, there is something you can do for me."
"Tell me. Honey, I'm at your service." Paula licked her lips in a deliberately provocative motion. "Don't be bashful. If it's what I'm thinking of ... "
"Relax, girl." Diane's eyes sparkled. "No, it's nothing like that. Although it might be if you do buy the house and I come visit you. No, this is something else. It's not even for me, it's for Brenda."
"Brenda?" Paula went cold.
"Uh-huh. She wants to adopt Pat."
"Adopt heft"
"That's it. She feels like a mother toward the kid. A kind of sexy mother, if my guess is right-but that's none of my business. Anyway, if you could see your way clear to helping her out, I'd appreciate it"
"Diane, I don't like turning you down. But why should I do anything to help Brenda?"
"Because it would be a good thing all around. If Brenda has a youngster to take care of, she'll settle down and stop fretting about being the social queen bee of the island. Pat will be enough for her, and Brenda won't be knocking herself out giving all those parties. "You really think so?"
"I'm sure of it. She as much as told me so. Brenda loves that kid-and she's always been a frustrated mother with no children to keep her occupied. There's something else, too, Paula. I'll feel funny coming to St. Lazure if you and Brenda aren't friends. After all, I like you both and I hate being stuck in the middle. So what do you say? Even if you're doing it just for me give Brenda and Pat a break, will you?"
Paula shrugged. "Oh, all right. It isn't that important to me, one way or the other. Besides, if I buy Michele out I won't have time for Pat Brenda can have her. It might take a little legal maneuvering, but I think I've got enough influence to get the girl out of the trouble she's in. You know about that, don't you? Pat isn't exactly an angel. I don't envy Brenda if she adopts her."
"That's Brenda's headache, not ours. She's not the easiest person to get along with, either. They'll probably make life hell for each other. But it's what the two of them want, and they'll be grateful if you lend a hand."
"I'll fix it. You'll check on Michele right away won't you? Now that I've thought about it, I'm really quite anxious. So do your best for me, hmnun?"
"My very best I know you'll do whatever you can for Brenda and Pat, Paula, you're a doll. I think you and I are going to be great buddies for years to come."
"Just buddies?"
"Well...."
Paula stared at Diane's dazzling blonde perfection.
She was entranced by those upward curving breasts, the overwhelming curves of her asscheeks which jiggled so naturally and enticingly every time she moved. Impulsively, Paula kissed Diane's flushed smooth cheek. To her surprise she felt Diane's velvety full mouth return the kiss on her lips.
This unexpected token of affection made Paula react like a sex-starved movie fan. She sank to her knees, worshipping the glamorous star by kissing her inner thighs. Diane leaned her buttocks lazily against the wall. Her short shorts dropped around her ankles, revealing the nude beauty of her cunt and bush. Paula hesitated a moment, and seeing the smiling invitation in Diane's eyes, her mouth went gratefully to the proffered delicately pink cuntlips....
Not a bad way to seal the deal, Diane thought as a tingling orgasm exploded pleasurably thoughout her writhing twat.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
At the Villa Pleasance, Burt was still very much part of the picture in the sense that he still lived in his bedroom study. But although Brenda's bedroom was directly connecting, the door had been locked on her side for the last few days. She had not summoned him to satisfy her needs during that time and he sensed that his days as the official whore-master of the Villa Pleasance were drawing to a close. Brenda hadn't cut down on his rum, and there was even pocket money on his table. She just acted as if she'd be happy if he took off without a fuss.
Burt was glad of the chance this gave him to charge up his batteries. He wanted to switch to Paula anyway. But as he set about generating a lust interest between them, he became discouraged. The more intimate he tried to get, the more regal and naughty Paula became toward him. Burt wondered what she would be like if he managed to become her steady hump.
Still, that hadn't come to pass yet and he was beginning to doubt if it ever would. He really didn't care. Sure, he would have to do something to keep body and soul together, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it.
Meanwhile, though, he had gained renewed interest in his book. The writing of it had never gone so well. Characters that had eluded him for months were now taking shape and form and coming to life under the typewriter keys.
He couldn't figure out why. At first he had accepted the obvious reason: Brenda was too busy to bother him any more and his time was his own. But it didn't hold water. All the time in the world couldn't have wrought such a major change. Time was a necessity but not a spur.
Nor was it a matter of a clear mind untroubled by thoughts of forcing himself to satisfy Brenda in bed. Because his mind certainly was far from clear. He was at the end of his rope, financially speaking, and that sort of worrying wasn't conducive to good writing.
Nevertheless, his work was going well. He finally had to give up puzzling over the riddle and just take his blessings as they came. There was an intangible something called inspiration that he had heard of and read about, but since it was indefinable he had never fallen for such drivel. At least not when it pertained to writers. Inspiration was supposed to come from love, but he knew guys who were in and out of love all the time and they were commercial hacks who couldn't write their way out of a paper bag. Nothing inspired those boys.
Besides, what was love. A crush, nothing more. That was what adults called teen-age love. But would a few years of added age make any difference? It was doubtful indeed. It was still merely a crush. More obsessive and more compulsive, but a crush just the same.
Strange, though, he didn't intellectualize it like that when his fingers were pounding the typewriter. His characters understood love better than he did. That made them very real. Their emotions were sincere. Although where their inspiration was coming from was even a greater puzzle.
Anyway, he wasn't going to stew about it. There was a pretty fair party in progress and he was free to circulate for a while. Paula was head-to-head in a corner with Diane, so he didn't have to hang around and light her cigarettes. They were discussing some private matter in hushed tones and he had gotten Paula's hint that it wasn't meant for his ears.
Brenda was overdoing the beaming hostess bit He had never seen her so radiant. He had almost flipped his lid upon hearing the speech she had made right after the bash was under way. Her words were unbelievable.
But she had said them. Out loud. To everybody. "Have a good time tonight, all you lovely people. This is my farewell appearance as the hostess with the mostest. My last party. So drink up and enjoy. I know St. Lazure won't be the same, but after tonight I'm going into seclusion."
Incredible. Burt just couldn't believe her. Neither did the rest of the crowd who had attended her soirees for years and years. Everybody thought she was kidding. Yet she didn't sound that way.
There was something different about Brenda. Somehow she didn't look like she was cock-starved any more. She didn't seem older and yet she had a kind of new maturity. Sometimes she looked downright motherly, even. Especially when she was with that young Pat Mills kid. So maybe it was true what she said about giving up being the head lady in the party circuit. Maybe she had turned over a new leaf.
Still, for Brenda to end her party-throwing days was more like turning over a whole new public library. If she actually carried out those loudly announced but unbelieved intentions, it could only be because of a miracle.
Burt shrugged it off. Another puzzle. The joint was loaded with them tonight Nikki, for instance, getting drunker than he had ever seen her before. Giggling and flirting and carrying on like a real character. She looked almost feverish.
He slipped through the mob, caught Nikki's arm and steered her out the door. There were other people catching a breath of air on the veranda, but the atmosphere was less raucous than it was inside the house. And far less smoky.
"Baby, what gives? What's come over you? Are you practicing to become an alcoholic?"
"Nope. Haven't you heard? I'm saying good-bye to St. Lazure. The party's over, you might say. Good song-tide, huh? Anyway, I'm going home tomorrow."
It hit him. Hard. Hard enough so that there was an ache in his gut. Suddenly all the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle fell into place with oil-slick ease. He knew the answer now. He knew as much as the people in his book. The thought of not seeing this girl again was agonizing. Without her, he would never write another halfway decent line. He knew that all the talk about inspiration wasn't just drivel.
"It's a crush," he muttered. "An obsessive, compulsive-"
"Burt, do make sense, will you? Stop reciting poetry under your breath. Whatever are you talking about?"
"Love."
"How nice! Love is lovely."
"You're drunk. And I'm crazy. But I'm going to say it just the same." He seized her by both arms and held her motionless. "Listen, you little idiot. Listen to a big idiot. I'm in love with you, do you hear me? Nikki, I love you."
Her eyes became round saucers. Then they misted over. He bent his head to kiss her, but she wrenched out of his grasp and ran down the steps out into the night. He chased her. Caught up with her. Then he went through a century of pure pain as in a tear-stricken voice she told him who she was and what she was and why he was wasting his time falling in love with her.
He stood there and listened. A whore working her way through college. Was it possible? It was. She opened her purse and showed him the check. Fifteen-hundred dollars. Signed by Paula Jardine. She told him what it was for.
With the check in his hand, he waited for inspiration to tell him what to do. It did. He folded the check and slipped it into his wallet.
"We can get a nice little house in the suburbs with this as a down payment," he said. "You can finish school, and I'll finish my book...."
Burt's muscular arms embraced her tawny blonde femininity as they sank down on the soft, smooth turf in a secluded part of the garden.
Burt worked Nikki's skirt above her waist. She was wearing no panties and parted her gleaming thighs in eager anticipation of his stiff prick's entry.
Burt grinned as his huge cock thrust into her cunt
"Won't it be great doing this in our own bedroom, honey?"
Nikki managed to gasp "Yes!" as powerful loins sped his throbbing prick completely into the hot cunt between her expectant thighs. Burt's yearning dong drove into her vagina with vigorous, rhythmic thrusts which she welcomed with swiveling, weaving thighs.
Nikki's cunt began to churn spasmodically, she shrilled happily as blissful orgasmic release boiled through her body. Burt grunted as her uncontrollable twitching triggered his dick into a zooming rocket-like release, soaring into a supreme thrill union with her as he shot load after load of hot sperm into her vagina.
Later, as Nikki looked up into Burt's handsome face she murmured, "Darling, I never dreamt fucking the square way could be so exciting!...."
So, they squared away again.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Paula Jardine was having the time of her life as the new mistress of Le Club Gala. The dynamic, attractive redhead found she had a real talent for recruiting lovely lookers from the States. She also had an uncanny knack for sizing up the secret screwing needs of every type of tourist of either sex. Since she gave them just what they needed, word spread and business was booming. She didn't need the money, but she was gaining a certain kind of fame, far beyond St. Lazure.
Right now she was giving her unique, highly personalized employment interview to a candidate for Le Club Gala. The candidate was a finely-featured, raven-tressed Cuban beauty with a fabulous figure. She held herself proudly before Paula, as befitted her aristocratic Castilian heritage. Maria was a refugee from Castro who had flown in from Miami.
"Strip, and I mean everything!" Paula brusquely ordered the surprised girl.
As Maria's shapely, enticing perfection was revealed, the bright-eyed Paula moistened her lips with her tongue. She opened her loose-fitting negligee and taking a sort of waist harness out of her desk drawer, began fastening it around her hips. Maria looked wide-eyed at the belt and what it held. Paula was made into a male by a large extremely life-like flexible rubber imitation prick.
"Lie down, and don't be frightened," Paula soothed Maria. "Just make believe I'm a customer."
Paula fondled and kneaded the lovely abundance of Maria's firm young breasts. Her nipples looked like dark, large cherries and became stiffly erect at the touch of Paula's lips. Her mouth roamed downward to the satiny, rounded belly, pausing to penetrate the creviced navel. Maria, her eyes closed was beginning to moan softly as her svelte hips moved restlessly. She pulled Paula toward her, and grinding her belly against her, sighed with satisfaction when the redhead decked her. Maria raised a rounded knee with smooth grace, and fondling Paula's rubber prick as if it were the real thing engulfed it with passionate thighs.
Paula arched above her and lunged with a strong steady drive into her cunt that Maria matched with fluid, rhythmic hips. As Paula pressed on, cupping the girls' round, perfect buttock cheeks, Maria began to make little mewing sounds. It turned to a full-throated sobbing cry as her body contorted wildly with the peak orgasmic pleasure that suddenly flooded through her.
"Madre de Dios!" she wept "You are a better man than those I have had!"
"You'll do," Paula smiled. "And I want you to keep that crying gimmick when you end ... It'll give the tourist Johns a real charge!"
"Gracias," Maria said tearfully.
Yes, it was a great life for Paula. Then too she was the social queen of the island. Brenda had faded from the picture completely. Now that Pat was no longer wanted by the law, the two were happy. True, they had some noisy quarrels, even violent ones, according to the gossip of the local kitchen servants, but to all intents and purposes Brenda and Pat were permanently stuck with one another and had no time for anything outside their own relationship.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Paula liked hearing from Diane. Her letters were always so cheerful and breezy. And full of news, too. The one that came in last week said that Burt Nestler's book had been bought by Hollywood even before publication. Well, that was a stroke of hick for Burt and Nikki They made a nice married couple and Paula wished them well.
But the letter. The one she couldn't open. It wouldn't be cheerful and breezy like Diane's happy scrawls. Oh no. The name on the return address was Michele Duval. From some little town in Pennsylvania, of all places.
Not opening it was silly, though. Anyway, what harm could Michele do her from that far away? None at all. So she might as well stop being so squeamish. There. It was out of the envelope. Michele's handwriting was easy to read.
Dear Paula, Yes, you are still dear to me. Especially in these last years of my life. I am dying, Paula, and I am old and sad and lonely. But I must obey my doctor's orders if I want to keep going. After what I have been through, it isn't easy to stay in the peace and quiet of my little farm. I am more accustomed to loud noises and wild times.
Still, I must not complain. The farm is good for me. It is almost primitive, really, and it makes me feel like a pioneer every time I get water from the well or make the long, cold journey to the outhouse.
The outhouse. Paula, you should see it. Does it make you laugh to think of your delicate Michele sitting her delicate derriere on a hole cut in rough and splintery boards? There are times, I must admit, when I wish you were here to see me like that. And then I remember how good we were together and what delightful things we did and I get excited and I long for you, my Paula, and it grieves me that you are not here to share with me the thrill that only you and I can give each other.
So I write you. I have a hired man and woman to do the heavy work, but they can do nothing for my loneliness. Only you, Paula, can make me happy. So I write and ask you to come. Will you? Even for a short visit?
No, I do not beg. It is not in me to beg. I am still Michele and I must be truthful. If you come and stay with me you will know discomfort. I will send my hired couple away so that we can be alone. But you will have to do much of their work. Your pretty hands will turn course, perhaps, and mind because here a bath is not a simple, everyday occurrence. You will live like a peasant. But you and I will be together.
Is it compensation enough? To be together as we once were? More than this I can not offer you. But my heart cries out for yours, my darling Paula, and you must understand that what we had between us has never grown dim. It is as big and beautiful as ever.
Do you remember the morning when the loud-mouthed nightingale awakened you in my bed? Ah, but you must remember it. I told you then that when you deny me, you deny yourself. And I asked for your talented fingers and your talented lips. No, I am sure you have not forgotten.
Paula, you were my captive that morning and I loved you for it. I called you my shy and submissive maiden, did I not? Yes. I recall it as if it were only yesterday. You were confused and headachy and you wanted to go to the bathroom. To wash your face, you said. And I went with you, lovely Paula, we went together and stayed a long, long time in our little heaven and I can not remember if you ever did wash your face as you had gone to do. But there was no confusion and no headache; nor has there ever been joy such as we knew that morning.
That same joy is all I can offer you today. Was I too harsh? Too cruel? Did I demand too much of you? Then perhaps you should not come. All of that is part of the joy.
I have said too much. I can write no more. It is too late and I must take the journey to the little house out in back and sit upon the rough boards. So I can say only what I said to you on that memorable morning, my darling Paula, Come. I have need for you.
Michele
Paula put Michele's letter on her desk. She rested her chin thoughtfully in her hand and a worried frown creased the smooth forehead beneath her braided aubum tresses. Then with a decisive motion, she lifted the intercom phone on her desk.
"Send Pablo, Jacques and Yvetto to my private quarters at once. And, oh yes, tell that new girl Maria to come too," she ordered.
As each of the men and girls she sent for entered her private sanctum, they practically stood at attention before her. After all, she was "la patronesse" and they awaited her pleasure. Paula looked them over.
Pablo was an ex-bullfighter from Mexico City. He had a powerful, squat body, yet could move with amazing agility. He was actually built like a bull around his loins, a fantastic prick-pusher who could literally work around the clock without a stop.
Yvette was a dusky, svelte regular girl from Michele's days. The tropical loveliness of her beautiful body was carefully trained to do literally anything in the book with enthusiastic perfection. Schoolteachers from the States gasped unbelievingly at her act with Siegfried, the specially-trained police dog Paula had imported from the infamous whorehouse sector of Hamburg.
Jacques was a dark, Latin type. His dark body had the smooth, graceful muscles of a dancer, but he too was an inexhaustible lover. Women went wild as he tongoed them across the bedroom, his remarkable dong frigging them to music.
The voluptuous "cryer" as Maria had come to be known was making a popular reputation for herself too. Paula was pleased with these specimens of the nine girls and seven males she had working for her now.
"My children," she said addressing them, "I have called you together because I am weary-it would amuse and refresh me to see you all make love before me. So you may commence!"
It interested Paula to see that both men made Maria the newest acquisition. Pablo managed to embrace her luscious curves first. Jacques turned toward Yvette a shade disappointedly as Pablo pulled Maria to the thickly carpeted floor. He rolled atop her, his giant lusting stiff prick too impatient for preliminaries. Paula watched fascinated as Maria screamed and cried quite sincerely as Pablo's cock lunged into her cunt with a seemingly never-ending thrust.
"Do not hurt my pigeon!" she cried out to the grinning Mexican.
But Maria's white thighs were already weaving in passionate response, her legs entwined around his dark, compact body.
Jacques was more graceful. Approaching Yvette with arms outspread as if asking her to dance, he seemed to lead her delicious curves into a tango step. At the third step, Yvette took in her breath sharply, for Jacques' throbbing maleness was dancing within her too, in his famous specialty.
As the bodies before her swayed and writhed before her in primitive rhythm, Paula's eyes glistened and her breathing became more rapid.
Maria cried in sobbing ecstasy as her wriggling, working cunt brought Pablo to a bellowing climax. Yvette screamed shrilly in joyous abandon as Jacques stopped in the middle of a tango step and they both contorted in a climaxing go-go-go frenzy.
Now aroused by the wild freedom of the spectacle before her, Paula yelled throatily, "Daisy chain, all together kids!"
Flinging off her negligee, she went quickly to the center of the room and lying on her back, offered the lustiness of her magnificent body to the lusting group. Pablo as usual, was first Lying down next to Paula, he motioned her to get astride him, facing away. His super-cock felt fantastic as her cunt eased down, but it was something Paula had been curious to sample.
Yvette parted her strong, shapely thighs and suddenly Pablo's face seemed to disappear, only the top of his head was visible between her shimmering buttocks as he frenched her eager cunt.
The appealing intimacy of Maria's hot, moist cunt edged up to Paula's waiting mouth as the sexy Cuban girl wriggled toward her mistress on her back. Jacques sank to his knees above Maria's face and groaned happily as warm frantic lips sought and found his stiff pecker.
"The chain is complete," Jacques announced as he felt Yvette close the final link in her own way, her tongue searching in his anus.
Their joined bodies swayed and wriggled, their cries of cresting passion mingling in a roaring wild finale, as hot scum and cunt-juices were mixed in delirious orgasms.
A letter fluttered from Paula's desk, unnoticed. It would remain there, until it was swept away, unanswered. Paula no longer had any need of Michele. She had become Michele.
And this was the final ironic victory of Michele Duval.
