The realm of sexual expression has remained one of controversy for many centuries, and undoubtedly will remain so for many more. There is no answer for the individual considering any particular form of sexual outlet, except that he must be true to himself. The mature individual who has achieved this sort of self-honesty and completeness will be little harmed or affected by the illogical or irrational opinions of others.
In this exceptionally well written novel the author m has cleverly woven this truth like an unseen thread throughout the entire work. Had the characters faced up to their unusual desires instead of trying to repress them, much of the anguish they suffered would logically have been avoided.
The author does not claim this concept of opinion to be solely his own, nor a revolutionary thought. To the contrary, it has been expressed by the wisest thinkers through the ages. "This above all: to thine own self be true," was Shakespeare's way of saying the same thing; but it comes to us from still an earlier source, and one which not even the most rigid moralist can contest...."Happy is he that condemneth not himself for that which he alloweth himself But he that doubleth is damned if he eat." Those who deny others' sexual pleasures by quoting the Scriptures would be well advised to consider this quote from Romans."
No doubt this era could be called the age of sexual enlightenment. That this ultimately will be for the benefit of all mankind is obvious merely by looking at the past and previous ages of enlightenment. But even a brief glance backwards will also reveal that, in such times, honored traditions and concepts were re-examined, and many times discarded. What was considered fact was found to be fancy. In short, the excuse that "it isn't done" or "it's shameful" will no longer suffice in denying man a specific form of pleasure.
The author has published many volumes of contemporary fiction with us. We offer no further comment, except our extreme pleasure in presenting this timely work. We now suggest that you read it and draw your own conclusions. A work of art, no matter how contemporary, should speak for itself.
-The Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
Porter Haines was a young-twenty eight, attractive-wavy brown hair, hazel eyes, straight nose and even white teeth, all packaged in a 170 pound, six foot frame-and aggressive-a seven day hustler-real estate agent with the LA firm of McKendry and Blake. In fact, some people considered Porter's passion for work almost a mania. He was the first one in the office, the last to leave. He made endless phone calls, soliciting new listings and trying to trade-up previous buyers. Fortunately, Porter had a natural charm and an easy gift of gab that kept him from being a total pain in the ass ... especially, as far as women were concerned. That is, most women. His wife, Nadia, had long since ceased to be charmed; Porter didn't turn it on for her-he was too busy pursuing the almighty dollar. Their five year marriage was dangerously close to the shoals of disaster. What time Porter grudgingly allowed his beautiful wife was usually spent in destructive argument, with both of them shouting at each other at the top of their lungs. These stormy encounters were usually followed by periods of painful silence, with Nadia closing herself off in the bedroom to cry, and Porter sulking into his scotch glass, with the accompanying distraction of the newspaper or television, or both. Naturally, these cacophonic clashes were not conducive to lovemaking, and the Haines encounters in bed were practically nil. Each blamed the other for the failure of the marriage. The truth was, Porter was married to his job, or rather, his career. A psychiatrist might have suggested that Porter's intense competitiveness came from feelings of inadequacy acquired as the younger son of a diamond merchant who clearly preferred Porter's older brother, Ron. Ron was a gifted boy who did well at everything, and it became quite clear to Porter, even at a tender age, that in his father's eyes, he was an "also ran" compared to his dashing older brother. He didn't realize it consciously, but everything he did was done to prove himself, to win the approval of his late father.
He married Nadia because she was beautiful-more beautiful than Ron's wife. He was determined to make more money than Ron, to have a better house, a bigger car, more prestige. He wanted the best of everything. He was willing to work for it. That's why he couldn't see having children-not now. They cost money; they tied you down. Nadia wanted a baby desperately. This was a source of terrible conflict. And guilt. Her anger, his guilt. His anger at her hurt. She had started to drink. He had started to play around, whenever it didn't interfere with his work. Hell, he rationalized, it was better than facing a bitchy, accusing wife!
It was on a hot, smoggy southern California day, after another of those debilitating arguments, that Porter Haines left the house in an angry huff and was speeding down Benedict Canyon Drive, when he spotted a young girl standing next to a VW bus frantically waving her hands for someone to stop. Ordinarily, he would have passed by without so much as a twinge of conscience. But for some reason, he slowed down and pulled over to the side, bringing his Chrysler Imperial to a halt, about fifty yards ahead of the van. The girl ran up to him before he got out of the car.
"Oh geez, what a relief. Can you help me?" she said breathlessly. Porter saw that she was very young, probably no more than eighteen. She wore no makeup, but she had rosy cheeks and very clear skin. Her dark blonde hair was frizzed in a Colette style that was popular with hip chicks. She had on skin-tight jeans that were much faded and covered with embroidered velvet and calico patches on the knees, crotch and fanny. She also had on one of those halter tops of Indian guaze print that shows the dark outlines of a woman's areolas. Her breasts were-full and almost pendulous, despite the fact that she was so young. When she leaned over to talk to him, Porter could see her whole cleavage, which didn't seem to bother the girl at all. She was quite unself-conscious.
"What's the trouble?" Porter asked in a nonchalant way.
"The bus-it just conked out on me. I've got to be somewhere, and like, well, could you take a look at it maybe?" She was anxious, pleading. She had a little-girl-lost look about her that Porter found charming.
"Well, I've got to be somewhere too. I don't know much about those things...."
"Oh, please man...." she implored him, looking directly into his eyes. He found his cock twitch a little. There was something very provocative about this innocent looking kid.
"OK, OK, I'll take a look. But I'm no mechanic, you know," he said, getting out of the car. He swore under his breath. He was wearing a light weight cream sports jacket and gray slacks. He sure as hell wasn't going to get his clothes dirty! He had a house to look at in Brentwood. some widower and his daughter. Could be a listing.
Porter climbed inside the dirty van. He was surprised to see that it was equipped like a camper, with a makeshift kitchen and a mattress on the floor, a mirror on one wall and some crates filled with clothes and books and-a baby! Not only a baby, but a mulatto!
His look of bewilderment and revulsion prompted her to comment, "Yeah, this is home. And that's Blossom," she said without embarrassment.
"She's yours?" he said incredulously.
"You got it, daddy."
Porter said nothing more at that point. He didn't want to ask the obvious question. Instead, he busied himself with the gear shift and the ignition. The engine groaned and whined complainingly. He was baffled only for a moment. Then a quick look at the gas gauge pinpointed the problem: Empty.
"You're out of gas, eh...."
"Judy. And you're?"
"Porter Haines," he explained.
"What? You're putting me on, man!" she said, breaking into a giggle. "Porter? Porter Haines? Aw, c'mon, what's your real name?"
"That is my real name. What's so funny about that?" he said, his face beginning to flush with anger.
"Hey, man, don't get uptight. It's just a turn on, that's all. Like, it sounds like a character in one of fiction stories they write for chick magazines, like Ladies Home Journal or something.
"Yes, well my mother didn't look at it that way." he said curtly.
"Geez, hey ... don't get strung out, man. It's a beautiful day out there." she said, trying to smooth things over.
He felt uncomfortable. The girl's appalling lifestyle made him feel vaguely guilty for all his material comforts. She was so young, and to be stuck with a half-black kid....
"Well, Judy, it seems that you're out of gas. You can wait here until a patrol car comes along, or I can drive you to the nearest filling station. I've got to get going," he said, opening the door and starting to get out of the van. He felt her arm on his sleeve.
"Wait," she said, a note of urgency in voice. "I have to talk to you for a minute."
Porter looked at her apprehensively. Her blue eyes were troubled, and there was a look of desperation in her face. At that moment she looked about twelve years old.
"You see, it's like this. I'm ... I'm ... like, out of bread, you know, busted. I can't buy gas, or anything else ... not even food for Blossom. All she gets is what's in these jugs ... and that's not enough," she said, pointing to her breasts. If the fuzz find me, they'll put me and Blossom away .. they'll take her away from me," she said, her voice beginning to break. Porter climbed back inside the van and shut the door. He found himself wanting to reach out, to take her in his arms and comfort her, but he was put off by her story. He wanted to believe it was a con, that she couldn't possibly be as bad off as her tale of woe indicated.
"What about Blossom's father? Don't you have an 'old man'?" he asked, trying to sound hip.
She shrugged and gave a rueful little laugh. "Blossom's father! Some spade I got it on with after a rock concert. I was stoned out of my mind. So was he. I don't even know the bastard's name."
"But what about your folks?"
"Look-I ran away from home five years ago. You know why? Because both of them were boozers. The old man used to beat me up every day, me, and my mother, too. She was so sauced herself, she couldn't even feel it. But I did. They probably don't even know that I'm gone. They'll kill me and the kid, both. No, Thomas Wolfe was right-you can't go home again."
She was sobbing now, and Porter put his arms around her, comforting the teenager mother who seemed like a frail and lonely child.
She had a fragrant smell that was like freshly cut grass and lemons sweetened with honey. He felt his cock stir in his slacks again.
"Well, Judy," he said, trying to sound very business-like, "I'd better get going. I'll stop at the Shell station up the road and have them send someone out with five gallons. It shouldn't take more than twenty minutes before you're on your way again."
She looked up at him then, her eyes beseeching him. "Port ... listen, Port. I'll give you a blow job for twenty bucks. Or you can fuck me for forty. I'm clean-no clap or anything, I swear. Me and Blossom, we need the bread, you know?"
"Look, Judy," he said, trying to sound composed, "I'm not that kind of guy. You're just a kid, and I...."
She overruled his objections by putting her face up to his and pressing her warm ripe lips against his mouth. For a moment, he was immobilized with shock, but in the next moment, he found himself responding eagerly, grinding his mouth down against hers, his arms tightening around her in a powerful embrace.
A surge of pleasure thrilled through him as he felt the soft pliancy of her body, and then her tongue darted into his mouth. It slipped past his teeth and began to twist around his own lingual organ, whipping up a froth of saliva as it swirled around in his mouth. His head felt light and dizzy and his lips felt as if they were glued to the young hippie's.
Her full breasts were pressed against him, and he was aware of the large, firm nipples creasing the fabric of his jacket. Instinctively, he moved his hand around to the palpitating circle of flesh, caressing the firm mound lightly with his fingers.
"Ooooohh...." she moaned softly, her voice warm and exciting.
But her words brought him to his senses. He wanted to go on like this, kissing and stroking, but he felt it was wrong. He didn't want to accept her proposition.
"Judy ... wait a minute," he said, disentangling himself from her, "It's no good like this. I've got an appointment, and...."
"Please, Port ... ," she begged, "just a quickie. Forget what I said about the money-you can give me whatever you can afford. It's okay."
He stopped her with another passionate kiss. His heart-as well as his genitals-had gone over to this pathetic waif who was half child, half woman. He would pay her-or rather, help her out. He couldn't bear to think of paying, the way one would pay for a whore. She wasn't a whore, he knew that. She was just a poor lonely kid who had a rotten life to contend with. He wasn't going to make it any more miserable for her. Besides, he really wanted her then, wanted to fuck the begeezus out of her.
He felt her fingers suddenly come into searing contact with the throbbing bulge of his impounded cock.
"Oooohhhuuumm," he moaned into her mouth, hardly able to bear it, as his rapidly palpitating cock began to grow with lustful intensity, swelling under the gently caressing strokes of her hand. Already it was straining against the material of his pants, and his hands had tightened like vises around the girl's trembling shoulders. He thought he'd go mad from the excruciating pressure, when all of a sudden there was the unmistakable whir of his fly zipper, and his liberated penis leaped joyfully upward and out of his pants. Judy's fingers tightened around it immediately, exerting exquisite pressure on the tingling surface. She ran her sensitive fingertips up and down the pulsing length of it, making Porter grit his teeth with overwhelming passion.
"Mmmmmmm ... it feels nice and hard already...." Judy crooned, stroking and caressing the lust-maddened shaft unbearably. "Your lovely prick is getting bigger and harder all the time."
The lewd words sent a fiery arrow of arousal shafting through him, and he moaned again, crushing his lips down once more on her unsuspecting mouth, his tongue nudging hungrily against her teeth, forcing its way up into the warm moistness of her mouth. His hands delved inside the skimpy halter and found the warm quivering flesh of her palpitating breasts. Judy mewled as he kneaded the sensitive flesh and pinched the burning buds of her turgid nipples. He could feel a drop of warm fluid seep onto his fingertips. He was momentarily taken aback, and withdrew his hand.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to lactate all over you," she reassured him. Still, he preferred to turn his attentions to her jeans. His hand fumbled for the zipper.
"You must be poured into these things," he said.
"Yeah, let's go in the back," she said, starting to get up.
He followed her, taking off his jacket and his tie and carefully placing them over the back of the driver's seat. She removed the halter, unzipped the jeans and kicked off the sandals she wore. He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off quickly, folding it neatly and placing it over his jacket and tie. Next came the shoes and socks. She was down to her panties now, having wriggled out of her jeans. Porter slid his pants down with his shorts and was out of them in one smooth operation. They were both naked then, and facing each other.
There was something exciting about being in the young girl's seamy VW bus. Porter realized the danger in being caught fucking her, and that element of danger intensified his excitement. But he also felt a sense of urgency because of it. No time for lengthy preliminaries, for extended foreplay. She didn't need it anyway, he could tell. She was ready to fuck.
His excited gaze dropped to the smooth sweep of her hips and fastened on the glossy triangle of pubic curls between her cream-like thighs. He thought he could just barely see an enticing gleam of her moist pink cuntal slit glimmering beneath the curling wisps of pussy tendrils.
His burgeoning penis was hard and intensely alive, every nerve ending taut and excited, as he moved toward her until her soft belly brushed against him and her fingers once more closed around his throbbing shaft.
"Oh, Christ, Judy...." he suddenly blurted out, "I want to fuck you ... I want to fuck you good and hard...."
She got down on the mattress then, and lay on her back, spreading her thighs invitingly for him. In a trice he was kneeling excitedly above her, and her hands were again tightened around his tormented shaft. She began to draw it towards the tantalizing fulcrum of her body. He could feel the velvety wetness of her softly quivering outer lips as the hard rubbery head of his jerking shaft nudged against them, and he had to force himself to hold back.
"Ooooohhh, yes ... yeeeesss ... fuck me now, daddy...." Judy moaned suddenly, her voice coarse with desire. Porter could stand it no longer. All the pent up force of his passion rushed out with a single overpowering drive as he rammed brutally forward with a flesh-splitting thrust, parting the outer lips cramming the hard pounding length of his lust-bloated rod halfway up into the tight depths of her cuntal sheath.
"Aaarrrggghhh ... Oh, God!" she wailed piteously, desperately thrashing her hips in a frantic effort to elude the cruel impalement.
But Porter, goaded on by nearly maniacal lust, ignored her cry. Instead, he heedlessly continued to surge forward, forcing his giant shaft to the hilt in her defenseless little belly. He held it there almost interminably. Then, with excruciating slowness, he began to flex it in the pulsing darkness of her tight vaginal channel.
"Oooooohhhh ... uuuggghhhnnn...!" Judy groaned, as she felt the steel-hard pole nudging against the sensitive tip of her cervix. She had never felt so full in her life. She felt as if the giant shaft were cleaving her in two, swelling with every passing second, and she was almost afraid that it would explode inside her sorely palpitating depths.
Porter finally began to withdraw, pulling out his long throbbing cock in one swift stroke and then surging forward again.
"Aaaarrrhh ... hhhmmmmmhhh!" she gasped again, as Porter plunged forcefully up between her widespread legs again, sinking his lust-inflated cock once more to the very base of her defenselessly naked belly. This time, the tender resilient inner membrane began to secrete excitedly, lubricating the long, lunging penis and allowing it to slip easily in and out of her openly spread cunt.
"Mmmmmmm...." she moaned again, a different tone in her voice, as tiny pinpricks of pleasure began to form somewhere deep in her loins, and a long shiver of ecstatic joy chilled her backbone. Her voluptuously silken thighs spread even farther apart, and she locked her legs around Porter's lower back. Her arms reached up to clasp him eagerly around the neck, spiralling her pelvis upwards to receive his rhythmic downthrusts.
Porter was in a world of his own. He had never experienced anything like this before-fucking a near stranger in the back of a grubby VW bus in broad daylight, on a smoggy, hot morning ... gave him an illicit pleasure that was excitingly mingled with power. He was exhilarated by what he was doing, and the wanton act liberated him in a way that he had almost forgotten. Judy was so yielding, so provocative, and just as aroused as he was. He had almost forgotten the pleasure of fucking a fully responsive female, one who returned thrust for thrust. Judy made him feel like a real man, completely sure of his masculinity. God, how long had it been since he had felt that way with Nadia!
Nadia. She crossed his mind for a moment, and he expected his conscience to overwhelm him with recriminations. He half-anticipated that the reminder of his wife would somehow make him feel different, would engender feelings of guilt and remorse-but it didn't! He felt nothing but the almost overpowering pleasure, that he was getting from fucking this frizzy-haired little hippie. The eager acceptance of her helplessly aroused little pussy instilled him with sensual vigor and made the wisps of passion which were curling around inside him burst into furious clouds of red-hot pleasure. He looked down at the teenager, whose head was thrown back, her mouth half-open. Her eyes were closed, and she was spewing out incoherent words that were the expression of her complete arousal. He could feel the hardness of her turgid nipples against his chest, as well as the wetness oozing from them. That was the only thing that bothered him vaguely, the only tiny source of guilt-that small, half-black creature that lay peacefully asleep in her orange crate bed. He shot a quick look to the infant, then turned away, remembering painfully how much Nadia wanted a child....
"Oh, God-yesss ... that's it ... fuck me like that, daddy!" Judy pleaded, her voice indistinct and hoarse with lust. Her wet, naked body was writhing uncontrollably on the mattress, and the clinging walls of her inner sheath were milking convulsively on his plunging cock, tightening like a vise around the sensitive flesh, as he plummeted into her warmly welcoming depths. Their two bodies were fused together as one, joined where his long rangy cock buried itself in the widely stretched passage of her openly throbbing vagina. They flailed and thrashed against each other, the bus filled with the lewd, wet, slapping sounds of their love making. Porter felt as if he were being driven on by some inner, unknown force that was making him strive almost inhumanly for completion with the tortured, lust-racked girl beneath him. He thought he'd go mad if he didn't climax soon. His whole body felt on fire, every nerve ending taut and frazzled by the effort to reach the pinnacle of pleasure.
And then, a few moments later...."Oh! Oh! Oh! My God, I'm ... I'm ... I'm ... aaahh ... I'm cumming!"
Judy's choked cry rang out just as her body stiffened almost unbearably, and then she was thrashing up and down on the mattress, pounding her passion-driven cunt up against Porter's furiously pounding cock.
She was mewling and groaning uncontrollably, her entire body caught up in the throes of an incredible orgasm. Porter could feel the passionate vibrations resounding throughout the length of her feverishly flailing body, and her frantic spasms triggered his own release.
The tremendous pressure which had been building up in his balls began to explode. His head was spinning, and his body seemed to pass out of his control, as a series of convulsive shudders gripped him, making him fuck brutally between the girl's wantonly splayed legs.
"Aaaahhhhh ... I'm cumming too!" he-shouted, as his tortured scrotum at last released the first hot spurt of his seething male sperm. It rushed blindly from the dark hot cavern of his balls and poured out of the pulsating tube of his wildly stabbing cock to gush wetly into the hungrily receptive depths of Judy's eagerly clasping cunt. It continued to flow in a hot, boiling jet of white fluid, seeping into the steaming creases and crevices of her voraciously clutching vagina.
When at last, the cumming was over, and he could sense that Judy was satiated, he collapsed over her moistly quivering form, covering her with his own trembling body. He was filled with an exultant sense of well-being, and his mind was wiped clean of all peripheral problems. He didn't care about the fact that he had just been unfaithful to his wife by fucking a young teenage mother in her Volkswagon bus-home. He didn't care about getting to the office late. Right now, he didn't care about anything, except that he felt satiated and fulfilled beyond his wildest dreams. It had been a long time....
"Where are you going from here?" he asked the smiling hippie.
"Thought I'd check out this commune in Ventura. Some friends told me about it," she said quietly.
A frown creased his brow. "And if that doesn't pan out?"
"Oh, well, me and Blossom, we just sort of wing it, you know...." she answered, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Look, I've got to get going. But I'd like to see you again. Can you meet me tonight at 8:00 on Mulholland Drive? ... that spot behind the Hollywood Bowl-the place where everybody goes to...." (He wanted to say "make out" but thought that would be a little crass.)
"Oh, yeah," she interrupted, "I know where you mean. Sure."
"Good. Take this," he said, pulling a fifty dollar bill out of his wallet and handing it to her. "Get some decent food for yourself-and Blossom. I'll stop at the station and get them to send somebody out with a five-gallon drum. It'll be paid for, so don't let them con you into paying again. OK?"
"Wow! Far out!" the girl said, her eyes wide with disbelief. She was still looking at the fifty when he got out of the van and headed for his Imperial.
CHAPTER TWO
Porter was still turned on at 11:00 that morning when he pulled up in front of the well-manicured lawn of the Brentwood bungalow. He had been thinking about his exciting encounter with Judy from, the moment he put his Chrysler in gear and headed down Benedict Canyon Drive towards his office. What he had done was sheer madness. A cop could have come along, or worse, Nadia might have driven by on her way to the supermarket-though he thought that possibility somewhat remote-she usually didn't leave the house before ten a m.
But why had he asked the girl to meet him later this evening? He was really courting disaster now. He should have called it a day once the quick fuck was over and he had given her the money. Maybe he would be wise to stay home and read a good book....
With a practiced eye, he made a quick estimate of the listing price ... $75,000, maybe $80,000. The man had said there was a pool. Could go for $72,500, with three of the six percent broker's fee going to him. Not bad; a nice piece of change.
There was no response to his ringing of the doorbell. That was odd, Porter thought, since he had made a specific appointment with the owner, a widower. He could hear rock music blaring from a stereo within. He tried the door-unlocked. Cautiously, he opened it a ways and stuck his head inside. "Hello? Anyone at home?" he called. No answer. He went inside. The living room was nicely but modestly furnished, though there were magazines and newspapers littering the couch, coffee table and floor, and the strong smell of stale cigarettes and charred pipe tobacco filled his nostrils. That would have to go, for sure, before prospective buyers were brought around.
He walked into the kitchen. Dirty dishes on the table and in the sink, despite a late model dishwasher. Empty cereal boxes and spilled sugar. A cat's Utter box desperately in need of changing. He wrinkled his nose in sensory protest. In his mind's eye, the price was plummeting steadily, and thus, his commission. He would have to get a cleaning service in before the house could be shown.
The sliding glass doors to the patio were open, inviting him to wander outside. The din was earsplitting. He remembered the man saying that he wanted to sell because the house was too much for him and his teenage daughter. Obviously, the kid wasn't a willing housekeeper!-Porter spotted a pair of arms languidly wrapped around the top of a chaise lounge. The back faced him, hiding the chair's occupant from his view. He figured it must be the daughter, so he approached gingerly, calling out to her as he made his way toward the pool.
"Hello, Miss. I'm the real estate agent with...." He stopped short, finding himself facing a young girl who was completely naked on the lounge chair! Porter's face flushed crimson with embarrassment. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Miss ... I ... your father is expecting me," he stammered, thrusting his business card at her. He averted his eyes from her naked form, noting the small, pert breasts, the trim hips and the dark patch of pubic hair between her slim thighs. Her long, dark hair fell in dank, thin strands almost to her tiny waist. She was reading one of those Hollywood gossip magazines that gave all the "lowdown" on stars like David Cassidy and Elvis and Valerie Harper, and she must have had five sticks of chewing gum in her heart-shaped mouth.
The girl took his card with a lazy, indifferent hand, showing not the slightest sign of embarrassment in the presence of a total stranger, and a man!
"Huh. Yeah, Jack said you'd be around," she drawled.
"Jack?" he questioned, noticing the geraniums and the marguerite daisies that flanked the patio.
"Yeah, Jack-my father," she said flatly.
"Oh, Mr. Owen."
"Jack Owen. I'm Avis ... Avis Owen. I try harder."
There was a tinge of sarcasm in her voice. Porter decided she was a smart-ass kid trying to act grown up. He also decided he didn't like her. "Well, Avis, is your father at home?" he asked, trying to hide his annoyance.
"No."
"Will he be back soon?"
"I doubt it."
"Is there somewhere I can reach him, then? We had an appointment," he said, becoming steadily more irritated.
"He went to the vet. The cat freaked out this morning. Jack loves that cat. He got all uptight. He left about twenty minutes ago, I guess. I was supposed to call you."
"That would have been considerate," he said acidly.
"Sorry! I forgot," she snapped back.
"Well, thank you anyway. Perhaps you could do me the favor of having your father phone me when he returns. You have my card." Porter started to leave.
"Hey, wait a minute. I said I was sorry. Why don't you take off your clothes and have a swim while you're waiting," she said, getting up from the chair and following him.
"No, thanks!" Christ, he thought, that's all I need-a romp in the pool with this little piece of jail bait.
"Then how about a fuck?" she called out. That really blew his mind! He couldn't believe the outrageous proposal from a kid who was probably no more than fifteen. He didn't even know she knew the word!
"Don't be ridiculous!" he snapped. "I don't 'fuck' little girls!" he said, throwing the four-letter word back at her.
His stinging put-down caused her to turn beet-red.
Her dark eyes flashed with rage. "Izzat so, buster?" she screamed at him. "Well, let me tell you, asshole, that I'm as good as anybody you'll ever screw! Just ask Jack, if you don't believe me. Just ask the old man if his 'little girl' isn't the hottest fuck around!"
Porter was stunned. "You mean ... you and your father...."
"Two points for you, buster. I was fourteen the first time he balled me. My mother was dying of leukemia. It took a long time. He couldn't take it-months and months of no action. So, one night ... we got it on. Sort of happened accidentally."
"God ... I'm sorry," Porter muttered after a long silence.
"Save it, buster. Jack's good. He taught me everything. And it's not like he's a dirty old man or anything. He's only thirty-six, and a good-looking dude."
Porter felt himself becoming more and more uncomfortable. He was beginning to feel a little sick at his stomach. He had to get the hell out of there.
"Well, I've got to get back to the office," he lied. "If you'll just have your father phone me at his convenience, I'd appreciate it."
"If you go now, I'll tell Jack you raped me," she said, her voice passionless. She had her hands on her hips, and she was looking him straight in the eye, chewing her gum defiantly.
"What? Why you little bitch!" he said, the veins standing out on his forehead. "Don't think you can frighten me into screwing you with that kind of cheap threat!'
"Just try me!" she spat back at him.
"What you need is a good, hard spanking! You're nothing but a spoiled brat, who needs to have some sense knocked into her. If you were my kid, that's what I'd do!"
"You and who else? Just keep it up, baby. Jack's gonna get an earful, you can bet your sweet cock on that!"
"Now wait a minute. I can give him an earful, too!"
"Do you think for one minute he'd believe you? I've got him so pussy-whipped, he'll believe anything I tell him. You haven't got a chance, baby," she hissed at him.
The kid was too much. Never in his life had Porter met a teenager like Avis! He hadn't been around kids much. She swore like a sailor, yet she looked like an angel standing there, with her long dark hair cascading over her shoulders. He felt like fucking her, all right, but the whole idea was still too repugnant. He'd be out of his mind to get involved with this kid. No telling what she would do afterwards.
"Listen, Avis," he said, trying to appeal to her reason. "I'm a married man, trying to earn a living. And I work damn hard at it. The last thing in the world I need is to have sex with my client's daughter! Besides being unethical, it's immoral-and a crime. I could go to jail! Don't you realize that?"
"No sweat," she said coolly. "It's just between the two of us!"
"Hah! For all I know, you'd blab it to your father and my boss and anyone else who'd listen. That would be just beautiful, right!"
"Cool it, baby. Why do you think I was in the buff when you showed up?" she said, a devilish smile beginning to turn up the corners of her mouth.
"You mean, you had me pegged from the first?" he asked incredulously. "But you didn't even know what I looked like!"
"So? If you had been a dog, I would have taken your card and let you leave on a fast freight. But you turn me on. It's that simple."
"Simple, it isn't. Suppose I did go for ... for what you want. Then what? You'd expect me to come here every day, no doubt. Or meet you in the back seat of a car! No way, kid. No way! I'm not going to be a patsy for some horny, neurotic teeny-bopper!" As soon as he had said it, Porter realized that that's just what had happened earlier, with Judy. Wasn't she a teenager, just a few years older than this kid? Didn't he allow her to talk him into fucking her? He had given her money. Not only that, he had asked her to meet him again! But Judy was different. She had done what she felt she had to do to get money, right? Still, she had enjoyed it-thoroughly! Maybe she needed to get laid as much as she needed the money. But that apparently wasn't the problem with this foul-mouthed little brunette. She was playing a viscious game, and the odds were stacked against him.
"I promise I won't bother you again ... unless you want to be bothered," she said, coming up close to him. Her hand went boldly to his fly and she started to massage his cock and balls! "Let me suck you off, then," she murmured. "I really want to. Do you like to 69? I love to have my pussy eaten."
Despite himself, he was getting very turned on. Her lewd vocabulary sent shafts of desire through his body. But he reminded himself again that he was really playing with fire if he allowed things to go any further. He tore her hand away from his fly. "Cut it Out, Avis! You're nuts!" he said harshly.
"And you're a goddamned fag-an impotent fairy with orange juice in your balls. You probably can't get it up with your wife, can you? Yeah, that's the real reason-you can't get it up! I've heard about guys like you!...." That did it. A wave of rage encompassed him, like a sheet of searing flames. He was a mad bull, seeing only the red cape flung at him. His teeth were clenched, and his eyes almost popped, as he grabbed the sassy teen roughly by the wrist, holding her in a vise-like grip and twisted her arm behind her back. He sat down at one of the painted wood chairs around the dirty kitchen table and forced the screaming girl over his knees. She bit him on the thigh, causing him to cry out in pain. Immediately, he grabbed her other flailing arm and pinned that, too, behind her back. Then he shoved her forward, so that her head was well beyond his trousered legs.
"I'll teach you not to call me a fag, you prick teasing little bitch!" he swore at her. Then his hand came down sharply on her bare, round ass, making a loud smacking noise and leaving a red imprint on the ripe buttock.
"Owwwww!" she cried. "Faggot! Lousy impotent faggot!" she railed again, giving him the finger.
Down came his hand, smacking the bare tender flesh mercilessly. He didn't care about the listing, his job, even imprisonment. He was going to teach this hot kid a lesson. A court might just be very interested in her balling sessions with her old man-if it came to that.
Red welts were beginning to appear on the girl's punished backside, where Porter continued to spank her so hard that the palm of his hand stung in protest. She was wailing and screaming and thrashing around on his lap, and her movements, combined with the excitement of his punishing slaps on her pliant asscheeks, caused his cock to grow into ramrod hardness. The throbbing shaft of his inflamed prick strained against the imprisoning fabric of his slacks. His breathing was coarse and staccato. He had a wild desire to stick his tongue in her little brown anus, which was defenselessly available to him. He wanted to skewer it with his cock, until she split apart. He wanted to rip open his fly and shove her face down on his tortured cock until she chocked to death on it. Impotent! He'd show her just how impotent he was!
The rock music raged in his ears, deafening him to her cries. He spanked her in tempo with the music, in synchronization with the wild, chaotic beat of the primitive composition. Her little buttocks were swollen and scarlet from the bruising swats he delivered again and again. Suddenly, unable to control himself, he bent down over the screaming girl and ran his wet pink tongue along the quivering crevice of her well-spanked ass.
"Aaaahhh! Aaahhh! Aaaahhh!" the young brunette cried, desperately wriggling her buttocks in a frantic effort to escape. But there was an unmistakable tone of excitement mixed with her terror at his latest assault. Porter licked and slavered at her secret place, thrusting his tongue deep into her rectum. He was like a man possessed. At that moment, neither the presence of the girl's father, nor Nadia, nor the entire LA police force could have made him change his course. Her wriggling made his inflamed cock jump inside his trousers, and he could feel the wetness in his shorts where the lubricating fluid was dripping from the tiny glans.
"You like that, huh?" he rasped as he took his tongue from the girl's invaded rectum.
"No ... yes ... yessss!" she answered through her sobs.
"Then see how you like this!" He pushed his middle finger against the tight little ring, watching it crinkle defensively under his probing. Then he exerted more pressure, ramming the finger forward, forcing it past the tightly clenched sphincter into the darkness of her resisting anal depths.
"Aaaarrrrrrrh ... stop! Please stop!" she begged, wriggling her soft creamy asscheeks frantically in a futile effort to escape the intruder. But her struggles only assisted Porter in burying the marauding digit further in her tortured rectum.
"I'm just giving you the finger, sweetie-like you gave it to me! Only I'm putting it where it belongs!"
Crudely, he began to rotate it inside her dark channel, making her squirm and moan with agony. Finally, he withdrew it, wiping it on the girl's long hair, a further humiliation for her.
"Get up!" he ordered her, clenching both her small wrists in his strong and lifting her by the hip with his other hand. The girl's face was flushed and tear stained. Sweat poured from her body. Her dark hair was matted against her cheeks. She seemed barely able to walk.
But Porter hadn't finished with her. Not yet. He was still enraged, and his impatient cock cried out for fulfillment.
He shoved her against the cluttered kitchen table and bent her over it, forcing her head down on the stained and littered surface. The cereal box fell on the floor, along with a couple of spoons. He didn't care. Her face was in the spilled sugar. He continued to hold her arms tightly behind her back with one hand, while he used the other to release his lust-maddened cock. The girl shivered involuntarily at the sound of the zipper. He could see half her face. There was terror in her eyes as she felt the hard rubbery head of Porter's penis pushing crudely against the tiny defenseless opening of her rectum. She knew it was fully erect, because it felt granite-hard and unyielding.
"Oh no! Please don't do it there!" she cried. She had only meant to incite him to fuck her, or have oral sex with her, she hadn't expected this!
"Nothing to worry about, baby. I'm impotent, like you said." he chided. "Lucky for you I can't get it up, right? Otherwise, you'd feel something like THIS!...." he said, punctuating the final word with a surge forward that sent the thickly pulsing head of his cock up inside the elastic tightness of her futilely resisting rectum.
"AAARRRRGGGHHHH! OH, GOD ... PLEASE STOP!" Her voice rang out piteously and her whole body shook and vibrated as she made a last frantic effort to elude the lust-engorged penis. But it was useless. She couldn't move forward. The edge of the table was creasing her lower belly painfully. She couldn't move backwards-the real estate man had pinioned her with his powerful body. She was a complete prisoner in his hands, powerless to do anything but submit to his wanton designs.
Porter stared down at the palpitating length of his impaling cock with sadistic satisfaction. The tip of the inflamed head was already inserted in the girl's crinkled anus. He knew that she was afraid, and he reveled in her fear. It made him feel all-powerful, made up for the insult to his masculinity, her brainless taunts and accusations. But he hadn't finished with the "lesson" yet. She would learn, for all time, not to fuck around with grown men. She might be her father's willing juvenile bed partner, but she wasn't a woman yet! And she wasn't a match for Porter Haines!
There was something else, too. He was punishing Nadia in violating this foolish, misguided teenager. Oh, how he would love to take Nadia this way, to show her he was boss. How many times she had turned away from his caresses, had deflated his cock with a cascade of pitiful tears! She wasn't much more of a woman than this callow teeny bopper. With every look, ever gesture, she made him feel guilty, made him feel less than a man. All she, could think of was having a baby, having a baby-as though that would solve their marital problems....
A baby! He suddenly remembered Judy. Christ, was she on the pill? It would be just like a hippie chick to take chances. Look what happened the last time! That would be cute-a paternity suit, on top of everything else! Geezus! He couldn't afford to see her again-ever!
The girl was breathing in agonizing gasps. "Stop it, please! You're killing me!" she rasped.
"Aw, c'mon Avis. Try harder. An impotent faggot can't do any harm!" He gathered his strength and shoved forward again, forcing his huge, lust-distended cock further into the virginally tight recesses of her rectal sheath.
"Uuuuggghhhnnhh ... aaaggghhh!" she cried again. But he surged on, until at long last, he was embedded to the hilt in the girl's sorely abused anal depths. He held it there triumphantly, watching the desperate squirming of the young girl's lewdly skewered buttocks.
Then he began to withdraw, pulling out his long, rangy rod with a slow, tantalizing deliberateness. The tight dry inner flesh clung agonizingly to the slowly exiting shaft, causing new pain to flood the girl's lewdly impaled loins.
When just the heavy, blood-filled head was still tightly sunk inside the tiny muscular ring, Porter surged forward again, this time without stopping and embedded his passion-inflated cock right down to the base in her firmly clenched rectal channel. Then he began a slow, laborious in and out movement and the girl's tortured rectum finally yielded slightly and allowed him to plunge and withdraw with greater ease.
He fucked the brash teenager's widely stretched anus like a man possessed. The very licentiousness of the act gave him new thrills of lurid pleasure, and the knowledge that he was hurting and embarrassing the strange girl who had put him down so much added to his lust-incited passion. The sight of her bent and trembling figure filled him with a brutal kind of power, and he was determined to get the most pleasure he could from his unwilling victim.
"Move that tight little ass of yours around on my cock, baby!" he commanded her, accompanying his obscene order with another hard slap on her bruised buttock.
Avis shuddered again. Awkwardly, she tried to rotate the trembling mounds of her backside, wincing and gasping with every movement. But it didn't matter. Porter was completely carried away by the obscene act he was forcing on the helpless girl, and he was very near to climaxing.
His deep thrusts became more convulsive, the tempo of his brutal ass-fucking increasing with each lunge. Hoarse, semi-human groans tilled the air, and Porter was like a wild dog, bucking and humping against her bruised and strained buttocks. Suddenly, he stiffened. Then he began to fuck her with hard, spasmodic thrusts. He was cumming!
"Fuck back, you little slut!" he hissed, as he sent spurt after spurt of hot sperm into the young girl's anus.
"AAAARRRGGGHHHHHr he cried, as he continued to convulse on the girl's naked body, stinging the chafed inner flesh of her rectum with his scalding cum. It went on and on. He couldn't stop cumming! Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, his spend cock slipped easily out of the girl's flooded channel, still partially hard.
He released his hold on the girl's wrists, and noticed that there were marks left by his tightly grasping fingers. It alarmed him somewhat. But the lesson wasn't over. Not quite. He had something more to do.
"Sit down," he ordered her, taking her by the arm and leading her over to the chair. She was trembling.
"Wha ... what are you going to do now?" she asked, her eyes wide with fright, "don't hurt me again, please."
"I wouldn't dream of it, sweetie," he said, a cruel leer on his face. "You've taken your medicine like a good girl. Now I'm going to give you something nice to remember me by ... Scoot forward, and spread your legs."
There was a glint of excitement mixed with apprehension in the girl's dark eyes. "No . ... I'm too upset." she protested.
"Nonsense. You said you loved to have your pussy eaten, remember? Or was that just bullshit, too?"
"No ... it's true. I do love it, but ... you've been so mean. I'm afraid you'll hurt me again."
"I promise I won't-as long as you behave yourself. But if you try anything funny, I swear I'll bite your little clit off!" He looked right at her, and the girl's look back confirmed that he had conveyed the false threat with effective sincerity.
"Besides, I want to see if you know how to cum, the way women do. Can you cum for me, Avis?"
"Well, sure. At least, I always do with Jack...."
"Don't mention my competitors, please. It hurts me right here." he said sarcastically, pounding his chest with his fist. "Every guy likes to think that he's the first-it's time you learned that, too." He was mocking her, ridiculing her, and he wondered if she realized it. She must.
The girl was slumped down in the chair, her legs wantonly spread apart, and her buttocks halfway off the seat. The crisp dark tendrils of her pussy glistened with perspiration. Porter stared into the coral furrow that faced him so invitingly. There was one sweet, girlish pussy, he thought to himself, though he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of appearing intrigued. Actually, he loved to go down on a woman, loved the smell of pussy, and the sweetly pungent taste of cunt in his mouth. Goddamn, he could feel his cock twitch again!
He used his thumbs to spread "the damp outer lips. The girl shivered in anticipation. Her breathing was already becoming shallow. Damn! That bastard father of hers had gone down on her all right. He couldn't stand to think about it. Without warning, he aimed his extended tongue right for the tiny throbbing titty of her clitoris.
"Aaaahhh! Aaaaahhhh!' she gasped, spasming at the first electric contact of his lingual member against her sensitized little bud.
"You like that, Avis?" he asked, gloating to himself.
"Ohhh, ooooh yessss...."
He wasted no time in mounting his maddening assault on her defenseless pussy, licking and sucking and mouthing the creamy furrow for all he was worth. The girl was mewling incoherently, her thighs spreading wider and wider to receive his brandishing licker. Porter jammed it into the tight depths of her pussy, causing her to cry out aloud. She held onto his hair, and tried to pull his face in closer to her pussy. He reached up with one hand and began to fondle the pertly upthrust mounds of her small breasts, provoking more passionate gasps. Then he returned to her clitoris again, laving the throbbing bud with relentless fervor. The girl was trembling violently now, and crying aloud in animal-like groans of compelling passion.
And she was, bucking against his face like a demented vixen, her eyes rolled back in her head, her body spasming again and again, filling his mouth with the sweet issue of her ecstasy, as her pussy juices creamed his face and ran down his chin.
Porter's cock was rock-hard again. He didn't know what to do. He was worried about the old man returning. He must have been there about forty-five minutes already. He kept licking and sucking at her pussy until the girl finally begged him to stop. Then he got up, grabbed a paper towel from the holder on the wall, and mopped his face. He was perspiring through his jacket, his rigid cock still outside his fly.
Just then the phone rang. Both of them recoiled as though they had been stung. Avis walked heavily over to it, trying to regulate her breathing. She was still panting when she picked it up after the fourth ring.
"H-hello-o." she said. There was a pause, then, "Oh, I was in the pool, Jack." she lied, looking at Porter. "Yes, he came by ... he dropped off his card and left ... wants you to phone him. I forgot to call his office ... When? ... about an hour? Ok ... Yeah ... ok ... Bye-bye." She hung up.
"Well?" Porter said expectantly. "He wants me to phone your office and ask if you can be here in about an hour. Can you?...." she said, a slow smile dimpling her flushed cheeks.
"I think so ... if you promise to be a good girl." he said, smiling back at her. She came up to him and clutched his cock in her perspiring hand. "How would you like a nice, cool, refreshing dip ... in the pool?"
"Sounds great. I could use it." he said, placing an arm around her small waist. "There are several things I could use right now...."
"Really," she affirmed, bending her head down over the lust-bloated head of his twitching cock and flicking her small pink tongue out like an adder. Porter sucked in his breath. "Here?" he asked. He was leaning against the kitchen counter.
"You're right. Let's go outside. You can take off your clothes and just let it all hang out. Getting sucked off in the sun, when you're lying by the pool, is a great way to go ... Stud!"
CHAPTER THREE
Nadia Haines was on her third Bloody Mary. She rationalized that the tomato juice had lots of vitamin C in it. There was an unopened letter from her mother lying next to a stack of bills and miscellaneous mail. She couldn't bring herself to read the contents of her mother's letter. She knew what would be neatly scripted on the onionskin paper. Mother's letters were always the same: the local weather report, news of family friends, the latest obits, and always a thinly veiled inquiry about parenthood. Wasn't it time for "a little stranger" to appear on their doorstep? Mother was very Victorian. She pretended that the stork brought babies!
Nadia closed her eyes and leaned back against the couch, trying to blot out her troubled thoughts. She hadn't meant to lose her temper with Porter this morning, but she couldn't help it. She had awakened tired, irritated, and depressed, a more or less chronic condition of late. She was on edge most of the time, she knew. But so was Porter. As their quarrels became more and more frequent, their sex life was diminishing at the same rate. They had tried to discuss their problems, but neither of them was willing to admit their deepest resentments, though she knew pretty well what was wrong.
Porter was totally selfish. He thought only of his own needs-his sexual needs, his need to be better than his brother, Ron, his need to make tons of money, and in a hurry. When did he ever think of her needs? Of course, he had provided her with a lovely home, stunning clothes and all the material comforts. But even that was for show, to impress people with his success. The one thing she wanted more than anything else in her world, he denied her: a child of their own.
No wonder she didn't want to make love! Porter just couldn't seem to understand why she wasn't able to respond to him passionately, despite the tension between them. That was a man for you! All they think about is that thing between their legs, and the pleasure they get out of sticking it into a woman! He ignored the whole reason behind that insistent demand in his loins-reproduction.
It's not fair! she thought bitterly, I'm twenty-seven years old, and still not a mother. If Porter doesn't want to father my child, why shouldn't I find someone who does? Five years of marriage, and what do I have to show for it? Frustration ... heartbreak ... and a husband who cares more about his work than about his wife!
She took another long swig of her Bloody Mary and shuddered as it went down her throat. She was feeling a numbing glow now, and she welcomed it. Yes, that's it. Anything to shut off the pain.
She wondered wearily how she'd get through the day. She didn't even want to get dressed and go out. She couldn't bear to talk to anyone, not even Margaret, her best friend. Especially not Margaret. She was always so inquisitive about the personal side of her life, asking embarrassing questions that Nadia couldn't bear to answer. Once the phone had rung that morning, and she let it ring, figuring that it was probably her talkative friend.
She looked around the room. She was usually a capable and efficient homemaker, refusing to have a cleaning woman because she felt she could do the job better. Besides, being busy kept her mind off things. But now she was too depressed to make the effort. She could see the tell-tale layers of dust on the lamps and coffee table, the frizzy balls of wool gathering on the carpet. So what? she shrugged, downing the last of the vodka-laced beverage.
She thumbed idly through the unread morning newspaper, finally turning to the classified section. Perhaps she should look for a part-time job, she thought. That would get her out of the house for a few hours a day, give her something meaningful to do, maybe keep her from drinking so much. She realized it was becoming a habit with her, and she found herself carefully washing out the glasses, and even driving away from the house to dump the empty liquor bottles in roadside trash cans! She hated being secretive. Worse, she grudgingly admitted to herself that the problem was getting out of hand. But she had to do something!
Nadia's eye was caught by an advertisement in bold face type. She looked closer.
"Housewives ... earn extra $$$ in your spare time modeling our glamorous at-home fashions. If you are an out-going type, with good face and figure, you can be a lunch-time mannequin at one of our lovely restaurants. Fee plus sales commission. Only very attractive women between 21 and 35, please. Apply in person, after 3:00 p m. daily."
Etc., etc. Nadia got up from the couch, stumbling against the edge of the coffee table as she rose. The strong drinks had gone to her head. She took the newspaper into the bedroom with her, where she took a piece of notepaper from a pad on the bedside table and carefully wrote down the address. She didn't want to circle the ad or clip it out-Porter was sure to notice and question her about it.
Then she went to her closet, opened the louvered double doors and surveyed her wardrobe. After discussing first one outfit and then another, she finally selected a light blue dress with a revealing decolletage, which showed off her excellent figure to best advantage. The dress was flattering without being flashy, she thought, and the color suited her burnished auburn hair and light brown eyes, and complimented her ivory skin.
She went into the kitchen and plugged in the percolator. Coffee would be ready by the time she finished showering. She would need more than one strong cup to bring her down from the buzz. But. if she were stone sober, she probably wouldn't have the courage to apply for the job.
Nadia showered and washed her hair, then dusted herself with bath powder and wrapped a towel around her head while she drank her coffee and forced herself to eat a sandwich. She felt a flutter of excitement course through her. And she wasn't nearly as depressed as she had been. In fact, she was feeling almost good! She decided to use her portable dryer out by the pool. The sun would help dry her hair faster. She thanked God for her naturally curly hair.
She never had to mess with rollers and permanents and bobby pins, the way so many women did.
As she sat drying her hair, she mentally tried to rehearse what she would say at the interview. She had modeled in college fashion shows, and after graduation ... not full time, of course. But her husband preferred her not to work ... no, that wouldn't do at all! She needed the money ... (Porter would die if he found out she'd said that!) Oh well, she would just have to play it by ear.
Nadia paid great attention to her makeup, achieving an effect that was natural and yet, "model-ish." She generously applied her favorite perfume-it had a very sexy scent, and put on her sheerest stockings. Nadia had very good legs, and she knew it. Last came the dress. She surveyed herself in the full length mirror on the door. Not bad, she had to admit. Not bad at all!
Nadia had butterflies in her stomach as she got out of the small elevator on the third floor of the four-story office building on La Cienega. The long, broad street was called "Restaurant Row" she knew. Perhaps the restaurants mentioned in the ad were nearby.
She found Room 307. The sign on the door read, "Mickey Prince Enterprises" in discreet block letters. She drew in her breath, placed a shaky hand on the brass doorknob, and cautiously stepped inside.
There were three women sitting on the two red velvet love seats in the small reception room. At the back of the room, whose red and white flocked walls were decorated with dozens of glossy black and white photographs of models, was another door. In front of the door, about five feet away, was a large wooden desk, commandeered over by a wispy platinum blonde with false eyelashes an inch long and enough makeup for the entire showgirl cast of the Lido Revue! The girl's expression was humorless and inscrutable, like those of women who sell cosmetics at department stores. Nadia approached her tentatively, trying to look confident.
Before she could say anything, the girl thrust a sheet of paper and a pen at her.
"Would you fill this out, please. Mr. Prince will see you as soon as he's free."
"Thank you," Nadia said, taking a seat next to a tall brunette in a skin-tight black cire jumpsuit. The woman was wearing a heavy, cheap perfume that pervaded the air around her, and Nadia felt almost sick at her stomach the moment she was seated. But there was nowhere else to sit, so she began filling out the application.
In a few minutes, the blonde receptionist appeared with a small tray on which there was a cocktail glass.
"How about a martini?" she asked, holding the tray under Nadia's nose. Nadia looked up at the girl. She was smiling a thin, impersonal smile. Her eyes seemed like two black marbles of obsidian glass.
A martini ... before an interview? Nadia thought that very strange indeed. She hesitated, then she noticed that there were similar glasses on the two Spanish colonial coffee tables in front of the loveseats.
"It's perfectly all right," the girl said, divining her thoughts. "Some offices offer coffee; we offer martinis. That's the way the boss wants it."
"In that case, thank you," Nadia said, taking the glass from the tray. She was secretly grateful for the potent drink. It would make facing Mr. Prince a little easier.
As she sipped, she noticed the two women opposite her on the other loveseat. One of them was thumbing through a Vogue magazine ... she was quite young, probably about twenty two, with extremely short hair dyed orange-red. She wore very dark lipstick that matched her Fu Manchu nails, and heavy green eye shadow.
The woman next to her was rather frumpy looking, with an overstuffed bosom and heavy ankles. Nadia doubted that she would get the job, poor thing. But she gave her points for having the guts to apply for it.
The door at the rear of the room opened. A good-looking woman in her mid-twenties waltzed out, wearing a shit-eating grin. She was smoothing her print dress. She winked at the receptionist. "Thanks, doll," she said, and breezed out of the office, shooting a knowing glance at Nadia as she left. Obviously, she had been hired!
The receptionist disappeared into the back office for a moment, closing the door behind her. When she reappeared again, she looked in the direction of the frumpy woman.
"Okay, Francine ... is it?" The woman nodded her head excitedly. "You want to come in now?" said the receptionist, beckoning her into the office. "This is Francine, boss," she introduced the woman to the unseen man in the other room. Then she closed the door and returned to her desk. "Have you finished filling that in?" she called. Nadia looked up. The girl was looking at her.
"Oh, yes ... almost." Hastily she completed the information, signed her name, and got up to deliver it to the desk. The martini had effected her rather quickly, and she supposed that the lingering intoxication from the Bloody Marys contributed to her unsteadiness.
The frumpy woman appeared from the back office in less than five minutes. She looked straight ahead, saying nothing, and disappeared into the corridor.
The mini-skirted girl-"Bonnie"-was next. She was in the back office for what seemed like an eternity, during which time Nadia downed her second martini. Finally, the girl came out, looking a bit frazzled but triumphant. "See ya," she said flippantly to the platinum blonde, who reacted with a phony smile.
The brunette-who Nadia decided was "The Dragon Lady"-was next. She, too, was inside the office a long time.
By the time the woman came out, Nadia didn't care whether she got the job or not. She felt completely relaxed, all her apprehensions gone. She was aglow from the top of her head down to her toes. The receptionist had become warmer too, chatting with her about this and that. Nadia decided that she wasn't so cold after all.
"Come on in, honey," said the receptionist, whose name, Nadia learned, was Joy.
The man behind the desk in the inner office brightened when Nadia was introduced to him. He was an attractive man in his mid-thirties, she guessed, with a lot of black ringlets worn rather long. He was tanned and broad-shouldered, one of those Hollywood types who has a fetish for physical culture, it seemed. You could always spot them, with their perfect, plastic looking bodies-over-developed torsos, with narrow waists, concave abdomens and trim hips. He was wearing a tailored bush jacket and a white continental shirt open halfway to the waist, showing a darkly hairy chest. Nadia noticed the tiger's tooth on a chain around his neck, a gold I D. bracelet on his wrist, and several rings on his fingers. His nails were manicured professionally, no doubt, judging from the clear polish adorning them. He was smoking a Nat Sherman cigarette, a long brown one, and there were several similar butts in the large glass ashtray next to the cardboard pack. She could detect a whiff of Aramis cologne as she approached his desk.
Joy handed him the application. "This is Nadia," she told him.
"Hi, Nadia. I'm Mickey Prince," he said, extending his hand. It seemed to her that he held the handshake a bit longer than necessary. She smiled warmly, trying very hard to act sober.
"Sorry you had to wait so long. This has been a bitch of an afternoon," he apologized. Then, without waiting for a reply, he went on. "I see you've had some modeling experience before. That's good, though it's not absolutely necessary. If a woman knows how to move well, and how to use her body, she can quickly get into it.-Would you mind standing up and walking to the end of the room for me, Nadia? I want you to pivot on your forward foot as you turn, then pause a moment, and walk back to the desk, o k.?"
"Y-yes ... ," she said, unsteadily. Her head was swimming, and she wasn't sure she understood his instructions. But she got up and followed his directions, trying her best to walk in a straight line.
"That's fine, just fine, Nadia. Only don't forget to smile," he said, "There's nothing to be nervous about."
"Oh, right," she said, showing her teeth in a broad, but brief smile.
"And hold your arms out, when you turn, like this." He got up from the desk, and Nadia noticed that he wasn't as tall as he had seemed while seated. He did a funny imitation of a woman walking, which made her laugh and helped break the ice a bit.
"Now, try it the way I did it. I'll take your hands and walk with you," he said, coming up close behind her and placing his outstretched hands in hers. "Right foot first, Nadia."
She preceded the man, feeling like an ice skater with her partner. The intimacy seemed perfectly natural, under the circumstances.
"Now pivot on the ball of your right foot, Nadia."
She got confused, and put her left foot forward.
"No, the right foot," he said, reaching around and placing hs hand above her knee. She was startled by the unexpected feel of his hand on her leg. But his business-like tone of voice reassured her.
"Don't think I'm getting fresh. I'm around women all the time, you know. It's just part of my job."
"I guess ... I guess those martinis were a bit strong," she fumbled.
"Just put that out of your mind, Nadia. We know the girls are nervous when they apply for this kind of job. Better to be a little relaxed when you come in than not, right?"
"I suppose...."
"You're going to be terrific, I can tell-but I would like to get you into one of our at-home outfits and see how you move in that. This dress is very attractive, but it does restrict your movements." He went to a closet and began rummaging through the garments hanging there. "We manufacture our own line, which is sold exclusively at our restaurants, Nadia. Ah, here we go," he said, taking two filmy negligees from the closet. He held them up to her. One was shocking pink, trimmed in silver and ostrich feathers; the other was a striped chiffon, in shades of green.
"But ... these are almost transparent!" Nadia protested. "I can't model these in front of people!"
"Of course you can. You'll be wearing a flesh-colored body stocking underneath ... if you want to. Besides, you're only circulating the room for a few minutes at a time, along with several other models. What's wrong with that?"
"Well ... it's just, so ... so...."
He cut her short. "Look, Nadia. You're a married woman, not a little girl. This is a modeling job. You're a natural. You've got the body, the face, and that 'X' quality that's so hard to come by in women these days."
"What would that be?" she asked suspiciously
"Call it charisma, call it allure-anything you like. Whatever it is, you've got it, honey. You stand to make a good deal of money in this business, I can tell you that. Of course, if you're happy just being somebody's housefrau, well, that's up to you."
Prince had hit a sensitive spot. She was miserable being Porter's "housefrau", and she knew it. If she couldn't be a mother, she might as well have some life of her own. It would give her some independence, extra money, and a way to fill those long, lonely hours of the day when she couldn't resist the temptation to drown her sorrows in alcohol.
"Let's try the pink number first," Prince said, thrusting the garment at her. "You can change behind that screen.
"But ... I'm not wearing a body stocking," she protested.
"So? Joy, would you come in her for a minute," he called. The door opened and the platinum blonde stepped in. "Help Nadia slip into this, will you?"
Nadia felt reassured by the girl's presence. The two of them went behind the screen, where Joy unzipped her dress and unhooked her bra in one operation. Nadia looked around apprehensively. "Relax, honey," the small blonde said, "Mickey sees women all the time. Just think of it as going to the doctor."
The full-length nightgown was slightly less transparent than the negligee, which made Nadia somewhat less reluctant to appear before the entrepreneur. It was cut very low in front, exposing a good deal of Nadia's voluptuous cleavage, and clung to her body like a second skin, falling gracefully to the floor in soft folds. The hem of the gown was also trimmed in ostrich feathers.
The negligee tied in a bow at the neck with a silver ribbon. It was a beautiful outfit, Nadia commented to Joy, who was brushing her hair.
Pity, she thought to herself, that Porter will never see me in anything like this. He could care less!
Mickey Prince's eyes lit up when Nadia appeared, and he gave a long low whistle. "Beautiful. Just beautiful. This is the first time I've seen this number on anyone. Nobody has showed up who could do it justice-until you came along, Nadia."
"Oh ... thank you," she said, smiling shyly.
"Now let's try that walking business again, sweetheart. This time, spread the negligee and hold it out as you turn. Then pause for a moment before you start walking back, o k.? Got that, sweetheart? And don't forget to smile!"
Nadia did as she was told, following Prince's instructions to the letter. She felt elegant in the beautiful ensemble, and smiled more readily as she overcame her initial embarrassment.
"Terrific! Just great, Nadia. I want to get some pictures right now." He went to a cupboard behind his desk and withdrew a tripod and a Polaroid camera, which he placed in the center of the room. He took several head shots, then some full length ones, both head-on and profile. Joy waxed enthusiastic over each shot, encouraging Nadia to give her best for the shots.
"You really photograph beautifully!" she enthused.
"Now take the negligee off, please," the curly-haired man told her. Nadia hesitated a moment, and Joy came over arid' untied the bow at the neck and quickly took the filmy robe from her.
Nadia was uneasily aware of the man's eyes travelling hungrily down her body, taking in the curved outline of her breasts, and fastening eagerly on the long expanse of her shapely slender legs. The pantyhose she was wearing did little to conceal the thatch of pubic hair between her legs, which Nadia had noticed herself, with a good deal of embarrassment. Her ripe nipples were also darkly visible under the thin material. She regretted having agreed to model it.
"Perfect. Just perfect!" Prince said, taking a few more shots. "Now let's get your measurements. Joy, get the tape for me."
"Measurements?" Nadia gulped, her eyes wide.
"Sure. In case we have to alter any of the clothes." Prince confirmed with surprise.
"Don't worry, honey, models are all alike to him. He works with them all the time. Just like a doctor, I told you," said Joy reassuringly.
Of course! she told herself with relief. I'm just being over-modest about the whole thing!
She stood there in the sheer, clinging nightgown, trying to act blase. Mickey Prince reached around behind her and placed the tape along her back, carefully guiding it around to the front, where he joined the two ends between her breasts. Nadia found herself blushing, and a shudder ran down her spine. It felt so strange to have an unknown man measuring her bust, his fingers brushing against the turgid buds of her nipples. They seemed to strain eagerly against his light, almost fleeting touch, and she wondered if he noticed.
"Put down 37 for her bust, Joy." Next he measured her waist "-23". Then he took her upper hip measurement, across the flat plane of her belly, then dropped the tape lower, to circle the curve of her buttocks. Gently, he draped his hands around her hips, to straighten .the tape, and Nadia felt a thrill of unknown emotion go through. Oh God, what's happening to me? His illicit touch felt good on her scantily clad buttocks, and his fingers in front, drawing the edges of the measuring tape together, were only inches away from the nylon-shielded mound of her genitals. In fact, his knuckles brushed against it as he adjusted the tape. "Hips, 35"."
He dropped to his knees to get the inseam measurement, explaining that some of the clothes were lounging pajamas. He placed the tape at the top of her thigh, on the inside, asking her to spread her legs slightly. This was a very crucial measurement, and had to be done just right, he told her. He held the tape with his thumb and forefinger, so that his bent fingers actually came into intimate contact with her crotch! Nadia jerked back a little, and Prince was quick to say, "Oh, sorry, but this has to be exact. Even a half-inch off can ruin the line."
He also took a sleeve length measurement, then a final one, from the nape of her neck down her back to the floor, placing the tape in the center of her buttocks and running his hand on top of it down the length of her body. He grew more and more enthusiastic about her potential, continually exclaiming about her fabulous skin, her perfect features and her exquisite figure. Nadia had to admit that the praise felt good-not to mention Prince's deft and light touch as he measured her. She kept reminding herself that it was all part of his job, and after all, there was a woman in the other room with them. There couldn't be anything too out of the ordinary about what Prince was doing.
"O k., Nadia, that's it. You can get dressed now," he said finally. "Just tell me what your shoe size is. We like to use the right kind of footwear with our line."
"It's 6 1/2 B. But, does that mean that I'm hired?" she asked incredulously.
"I wouldn't have spent this much time with you if you weren't, honey," he grinned at her.
"But you haven't told me about the hours or the fee or anything. Where will I be working?"
"O k.-it's forty bucks a day ... that means, from 11:00 to 2:00-though actually modeling time will amount to a couple of hours, starting at 11:30. You get a 20% commission on the sale of every item you model personally. That means, if a guy buys two or three of the same outfit, you get commission on all of them. That pink job you're wearing retails for $110 ... so that's another twenty-two bucks right there for you. Not bad, eh?"
"That seems quite generous," she said nonchalantly, trying to hide her inner excitement.
"And there are bonus arrangements, and other fringe benefits...."
"Like what, exactly?"
"We'll talk about that later, o k.? I've got an appointment now. I'll phone you in the morning and we can get together for some fittings ... you are free tomorrow morning aren't you?"
"Yes ... oh yes. My husband leaves for his office at around 8:30, so I could be here around ten, I suppose."
"I'm not sure yet about the time, but you'll hear from me first. Either Joy or I will take you to the restaurant, so you can see how things work ... Oh Joy, lock up for me as soon as Nadia leaves, o k.? Got to dash."
Then he was out the door, leaving Nadia breathless in his wake. She couldn't believe it was all happening to her. Wait 'til Porter hears about this! she thought smugly. Then, No. I'm not going to tell him ... not yet! He's liable to object to this, too!
CHAPTER FOUR
It was almost 6:15 when Nadia pulled into the broad driveway of her Benedict Canyon home. She noted with horror that Porter's car was in the carport. He usually didn't get home until 6:30! That was bad-it meant questions, and she didn't want to explain her absence at that point.
"Hi-!" she called out cheerily as she walked into the kitchen. There was no answer. She put some groceries down on the table and walked into the living room. Porter was reading the paper in his favorite wing-back chair. He looked up coldly. "Where the hell have you been?" he asked-icily.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Port. Margaret insisted I meet her for a drink at that place near the supermarket, and I just couldn't get away from her," she lied. "I really lost track of time. I'll have dinner ready in a few minutes-your favorite, crab meat and avocado salad."
"Just get me a drink-if there's anything left in the liquor cabinet," he snapped.
She couldn't understand why he was so upset. After all, he wasn't expected until 6:30, and they usually didn't have dinner until 7:30 or 8:00. His sarcastic reference to her drinking hurt her badly.
Silently she took the Johnny Walker Black out of the liquor cabinet and poured an ounce and a half into the cut glass tumbler. Then she added a splash of water and reached for the ice cubes in the tiny refrigerator that was concealed by the brass grating on one of the cabinet doors. She put the glass down on a coaster that lay on the lamp table next to the chair, never saying a word. Then she turned to go into the kitchen.
"Margaret must have a short memory," he said as she walked away from him. For an instant, Nadia froze. "What do you mean?" she said, turning to face him. She was beginning to seethe with anger, but she tried her best to be casual.
"Nothing-it's just that she phoned here about ten minutes before you drove up; said she'd been trying to get you all day. She was worried...."
Nadia sighed heavily. "All right. I didn't have a drink with Margaret. I went shopping and decided to have one-one little martini, that's all. What's so bad about that?"
"Not a thing. So why lie about something as innocent as that ... hmmmm?" he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.
"Because you make such a thing of my so-called drinking, that's why!" she blurted out at him.
"If you refer to your incessant boozing as 'so-called drinking', then I might as well refer to the way I work my ass off for you as 'so-called real estate' ... right?"
Nadia began to tremble with rage. She had meant to keep her cool, but the words came tumbling out with all the bitterness and frustration within her. She had been so joyous a little while ago ... she had even felt warmer towards her husband. But he killed her joy and opened the McGee's closet of resentments that crowded-her consciousness.
"Who are you trying to kid, mister? Work your ass off for me? Hah! You work your ass off despite me, to prove to your awesome big brother, Ronnie, that little Porter is just as good as he is! You work your as off because you're money-hungry, because you eat it up, that's why. You work your ass off to get away from me!"
"Take it easy, Nadia. You're going much, much too far. A woman who's out running around all dolled up the way you are had better be goddamned careful about throwing stones!
Now, where the fuck were you all day?"
"I told you-I was home until this afternoon. Then I went out to do some shopping and have a drink. I didn't feel like seeing Margaret or talking to her on the phone, so I didn't answer the phone. That's the God's truth!" She was almost screaming at him now. She knew she was acting shrewishly, but she couldn't help herself. She also knew that Porter had a violent temper. She was treading on thin ice. But she also felt a little guilty about the intimate interview she had had with Mickey Prince. She knew Porter would object if he learned that she had applied for a job-much less, a modeling job like the one Prince had offered her!
"If I didn't know better, I'd say that you lied because you were out screwing around with another man. But then, that's ridiculous, isn't it?" he said facetiously, "because we both know that you're a frigid bitch!"
Nadia's feelings were lacerated by her husband's cutting accusation. All the feelings she had nurtured about being misused and unappreciated leaped to the fore and pushed aside caution.
"I didn't use to be a frigid bitch ... and I wouldn't be now, if you were anything but an unfeeling, uncaring ... animal! You treat me like a whore, not as a woman you're supposed to, to love!"
"That's a lie, goddamn it! You think any man with a normal, healthy interest in sex is an animal! That just shows how sick you are!" he shouted at her.
"If wanting a child is being sick, then I'm glad I'm sick!" she screamed back, bursting into tears. "Why shouldn't I drink?-you leave me at home by myself all day long with nothing to do but clean house and think about all the things that are wrong in our marriage!"
"Yeah-a lot of women would give their eye teeth to be in your shoes, baby!" he hissed at her. "And speaking of house cleaning, you don't even seem to do that too well these days!"
"I'm very depressed! And it's all your fault! If I had a baby to care for...."
Porter broke in furiously. "Shut up about that, Nadia. Why should I have a child?-I'm married to one already!" He was enraged, and he gulped down his drink in two swallows.
"Ohhh ... you ... you overbearing, selfish ... monster. You pig!" she yelled and ran into the bedroom, sobbing hysterically. Porter was right behind her, seeing red again. Other women don't think I'm a pig! he wanted to say. But he held his tongue. It would be stupid to blow it all by giving Nadia reason to feel he was cheating on her. No, pride would have to take a back seat to reason. But pride would also force him to make her pay for what she had said!
Nadia looked alarmed when she saw him close on her heels. She ran around to the other side of the bed, shouting, "Stay away from me! Leave me alone!"
That was the last straw. The realization that his wife was afraid of him made Porter furious. It also goaded him in a way in which her words hadn't. She looked like a frightened animal, with her hands in front of her face, leaning back, cowering before him. So, she thought he was a monster, eh? Well, he had never given her any reason to think that before, but by Christ he would now!
He cornered her, grabbing her shoulders roughly. "You nagging, whining bitch!" he spat out.
"TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF ME!" she screamed, struggling desperately to break away.
WHAAP! Porter's hand came down hard across her face, knocking her backwards across the bed. Nadia stared at him in dumbfounded horror, unable to believe that he had actually struck her. Hot tears of pain and humiliation came to her eyes.
"You ... you bastard! You hit me!" she shrieked. "A man who would strike a woman ... now I know what you're really like! You really are a monster!"
Porter's eyes blazed with rage. He could have killed her at that moment. He knew that what she had said was true-he was being a monster. But hadn't she goaded him to that point where he lost all control? He had a wild urge to throw himself on top of her and give her the fucking of her life. She looked so helpless, so vulnerable, so pathetic lying there with her hands up to her face. Finally, after an agonizing moment of decision, he turned on his heel without another word to her and walked out of the room and out of the house. He climbed into the Imperial, switched on the ignition, threw it into reverse and tore away from the garage, his tires squealing all the way. He didn't even know where he was going, but he had made a decision: he was going to set Judy up in her own apartment; Judy and her half-breed baby. Nadia could go straight to hell!
Nadia drank herself into a stupor and passed out, still wearing her lovely blue dress.
Porter, meanwhile, had gotten drunker than he ever had in his life, first going to a bar for a couple of hours, then making his way up to Mulholland Drive to wait for Judy. She hadn't shown up, which frustrated him even further, so he resumed his drinking until he was finally thrown out of a place on Wilshire Boulevard. It must have been two a m.-when he got home, making enough noise to wake the dead-but not his dead drunk wife, who lay sprawled on the living room sofa, an empty vodka bottle on the floor beside her.
A thin shaft of moonlight illumined the sleeping woman. Porter caught sight of her through his bloodshot eyes. Drunk as he was, he felt his cock stir inside his trousers as he reviewed the shapely lines of his wife's body. But his feeling was one of contempt. "The alcoholic bitch ... Frigid boozing bitch!" he muttered under his breath. He moved towards her, stumbling against the coffee table. She didn't even stir. Her breathing was coarse but rhythmical, indicating deep, intoxicated sleep.
I'll show her just what kind of a monster I am! he said to himself. He fumbled with his clothes, tearing them off clumsily. He grabbed his penis and stroked it up and down several times, trying to get it fully erect. Goddamn it! he swore. The booze was holding him back. Finally his prick was rigid as a ramrod. He looked at the inviting swell of Nadia's breasts as her chest rose and fell predictably. Then he surveyed her shapely hips and legs. She looked like a terribly sexy woman-but she wasn't being one for him!
He leaned down over Nadia and began to reach up under her dress, groping for the top of her pantyhose. She stirred a bit and moaned in her sleep. He didn't care if she woke up-so much the better; she might as well know what was happening to her. He had to show her who was boss. She chinked steadily away at his masculinity. Her rejection of him was castrating. He couldn't allow that. He was also feeling guilty as hell about Judy and that little Owen chick ... he had shown her not to mess with him all right!
Porter pulled his wife's pantyhose down over her shapely legs in a rough manner, pulling her shoes off with them. Her dress was up around her waist now, exposing the patch of enticing pubic hair to his lustful gaze. As he stared at his wife's inviting body, he felt a new sense of power. He would have things his way, goddamn it!
He knelt awkwardly on the couch, straddling her splayed legs. Then he moved up over her, until his penis hovered above her slightly parted lips; a drop of clear dew hung precariously from the end of his cock, threatening to plummet onto her lips. Porter felt a new surge of excitement at the wanton challenge, and he leaned forward, until the drop of sexual ooze transferred itself from the tip of his cock to Nadia's sensual lips. Involuntarily, she sent her pink tongue forward to lick the pre-seminal fluid from her mouth, as though it were a drop of honey. She moaned softly in her sleep and stirred slightly. Porter froze, not daring to breathe. He couldn't decide whether to force his penis into her supple and unresisting mouth and make her suck him off, or whether to shove his prick into her without ceremony, fucking the bejeezus out of him before she knew what was happening. But then the idea hit him: that would be too good for her; he wanted her to know what was happening!
He began to beat her on the face with his rigid cock, shouting at her to wake up. Again and again he pummeled her with his manflesh, on first one cheek, and then the other. She responded in her sleep by frowning and trying to escape the barrage of blows.
"Wake up! Wake up, you drunken bitch!" he shouted to her. Impatient, he forced her lips further apart and shoved his cock into the passive cavern of her mouth. He used his fingers to try and close the delicate flesh around his stiff impalement. Nadia was blinking her eyes now, though still not fully conscious; the alcoholic stupor was beginning to fight back, trying to spit his cock from her mouth as though it were an unwelcome rubber hose.
Porter grabbed her by the hair and started shaking her, making her head bob up and down around his invading prick. His eyes were wide and filled with savagery; the veins stood out on his forehead. His terrible anger had aligned with his frustration to make him a madman, heedless of the fact that this was his wife, the woman he was supposed to love more than anyone else in the world.
"Suck it, bitch! Suck it!" he hissed at her. Nadia came into full consciousness then, though she was weak and dizzy from the surfeit of alcohol that still resided in her bloodstream. A look of horror crossed her anguished face as she came to fully realize what was happening to her, and that the brutal assailant was none other than her husband!
"Guaroww, queesssh ug!" she groaned, trying vainly to eject his cock from her mouth. Her arms were like jelly, but she tried as best she could to strike him. Her blows were totally ineffectual. Finally, in a desperate move to free herself, she bit down hard on her husband's cock, provoking a howl of pain followed immediately by a sharp blow across the face that sent her back into unconsciousness. She went limp under him, frightening Porter. He couldn't revive her, and he became more anxious than ever, though his anger-and his desire-remained fierce. He carried her quickly to the bedroom and placed her on the bed. He knew that she was probably all right, but he was frightened at his action. Her arms were at right angles to her torso; her legs were spread wide, giving him full and unobstructed view of her beautiful bare pussy. Suddenly, he was seized with an unexpected wave of tenderness mixed with passion, and he crawled between her legs and began to plant fervid kisses on her pussy. She was so fragrant, so sweetly pungent, he couldn't get enough of her. He ricked and sucked at his wife's ripe cunt, sticking his tongue deep inside her to taste her better. Nadia stirred, but she did not regain consciousness. Oh God, he thought, what's wrong with me? I am a monster, beating this helpless creature the way I have! God, how I want her! I love her! I need her more than anything in the world!
He couldn't contain himself then. Scooting backwards, tearing himself away from his unconscious wife's pussy, he crouched over her and guided his ramrod-like cock to the mouth of her cunt. Porter was fairly dripping now, and he knew it would be only a matter of moments before his straining prick burst inside her. He could feel her wet pussy hairs grazing the tip of his manmeat, and without further ceremony, he plunged headlong into her steaming depths, emitting an animal groan as he penetrated the outer barrier of her pussy sheath. Nadia's eyelids fluttered, and her eyes rolled back in her head. He planted wet feverish kisses on them, and showered kisses all over her cheeks and lips, while he pumped in and out furiously in the clasping depths of her unresisting pussy. He was sweating profusely, his liquored breath mixing with hers. At some point, Nadia regained consciousness again, but she didn't dare open her eyes. She wanted the nightmare to end as quickly as possible, and she knew that it would end soon, that Porter was very near to climaxing. His deep, hard thrusts had become more convulsive, the tempo of his brutal fucking increasing with each passing second. She knew that he would soon fill her vagina with his seething hot semen-she wasn't prepared for the fact that something had been released in her, and she found herself taken over by feelings that she had never expected. Her body was responding under the hard, rhythmic thrusts from her husband's cock, creating unbelievable sensations of pleasure that emanated from the vortex of her cunt through her loins and underbelly and all over her body. Apparently, her unconscious, drugged state had caused a short-circuiting of the always-present inhibitions that existed during her conscious and sober state. Her body-not her mind-was calling the shots now, and the result was extraordinary pleasure that she never had anticipated. Porter was completely carried away by his own animalistic rutting, and she knew he was oblivious to everything except what he was feeling. She didn't want him to know that she was conscious, much less, enjoying the brutal fucking he was giving her. She was too angry to give him that satisfaction! So she pretended to writhe and moan in her "sleep," keeping her eyes tightly closed and leaving her arms limply at her sides, while in reality, she was increasing the pleasurable sensations in her own pussy.
Hoarse, semi-human groans filled the air, as Porter bucked against her like a wild beast, battering her cunt in an outrageous effort to release his scalding cum inside her. Nadia tried to mask her own moans of pleasure as half-conscious moans of protest, which only egged her husband on.
She was getting closer and closer to the moment of ecstasy, and she knew it. The delay was exquisite agony. She was breathing faster and faster and....
Just then, Porter stiffened for an eternal second and then, with the force of a giant tidal wave, he began to fuck into her with hard spasmodic thrusts. He was cumming!
"AAANNGGGH! AHH ... ARRRGH!" he groaned hoarsely, his body dripping sweat all over her crumpled blue dress. But at that moment, Nadia didn't care, for she found her own pinnacle of ecstasy, which came, like a rocket burst of glorious magic color and fountains of pure rapture cascading from the sky all through every nerve end of her body. She regretted bitterly that she had to suppress the delicious shudders of orgasmic joy that coursed wantonly through her. Porter just might notice, and she couldn't give him that supreme gift of knowing that unwittingly, he had satisfied her. She wanted to throw her arms around him and hug him wildly. She wanted to wrap her legs around his flanks and weld his body to hers. She wanted to shove her tongue inside his mouth and feel his own lingual member dance against her own. But she could do none of those things, not then. He didn't deserve that, after the way he had deliberately abused her earlier. No, that was her little triumph!
At last it was over, and Porter's penis grew flaccid inside the murky depths-of her sated vagina. She continued to feign unconsciousness until she felt him sigh heavily and crawl away from her, falling heavily onto the bed. He rolled over and was sound asleep almost immediately. It was then that she got up unsteadily from the bed, still feeling the effects of the alcohol and the face slapping she had gotten from her drunken husband, and tiptoed quietly into the bathroom.
CHAPTER FIVE
Porter awoke the next morning with a monstrous hangover and a bad case of guilt. Nadia was not in bed. The scent of bacon and coffee wafted into his nostrils, making him almost nauseous. He glanced at the clock: 8:35. Good Christ, he was late!
He got up too quickly, almost passing out from the sudden rush of blood to his head, which beat like a tomtom with the slightest exertion. He showered in cold water, downing several Bufferin and a couple of Vitamin B's. He didn't know how he would face Nadia, but he knew he had to.
"Eh, honey ... about last night...." he began, approaching her cautiously as she stood leaning next to the kitchen island, "I'm really sorry. That was a rotten thing to do. Believe me, it'll never happen again!" He reached for her, putting his hands on her shoulders, but she shrugged them off and walked away from him.
She was holding an ice bag to her face.
"What's the matter with your face, honey? Is that where...." He couldn't finish. He knew he had walloped her pretty hard. Christ!
Without a word, Nadia lifted the bacon from the paper towel and removed the eggs from the skillet, placing them carefully on a plate on which two pieces of whole wheat toast were already residing. She put the plate down on the table next to a steaming cup of black coffee. The morning paper was nearby. Nadia was playing the "dutiful wife" to the hilt, he thought, considering what had happened during the night. It made him feel worse than ever.
"Jeezus, Nadia, say something-anything," Porter pleaded, ignoring his meal. The smell of food only heightened his physical discomfort. Had she made him a big breakfast on purpose? "I've said I'm sorry," he went on, "What more do you want? I ... I guess I had a little too much to drink myself and I just lost my cool...."
"Your breakfast is getting cold," she answered indifferently, and walked into the living room with her own cup of coffee, still holding the ice bag to her swollen and bruised cheek. She was more upset about that than about anything else. It would take at least two or three days for the bruise to go away. In the meantime, she wouldn't be able to work for Mickey Prince. He might lose interest, thinking she was putting him off, then she would lose her chance to model for him and have a part-time career of her own. Damn Porter!
As soon as Nadia was safely out of sight, Porter took a plastic sandwich bag from the cabinet and scraped most of his breakfast into it, breaking off a couple of bites from the toast and leaving it on the plate, along with a scrap of bacon and some egg. He buried the bag under some other trash in the incinerator, gulped down his coffee, crumpled his napkin and dashed out of the house, his head pounding with every step.
He drove down Benedict Canyon Road more slowly than usual, wincing at the pain in his head and the queasy feeling in his gut. As he rounded one bend in the broad road, he almost dropped his teeth. There, parked in the same spot where he had encountered her before, was Judy's van! Shit, he swore under his breath, that's all I need this morning. She must have been watching in the sideview mirror, for she got out and waved as he approached.
Porter parked behind the van this time, and the teenage mother was all smiles as he turned off the ignition. He chose to stay in the car.
"Good morning!" she beamed, leaning into the open window to give him a kiss. Porter pulled away from her.
"Where the hell were you last night?" he growled.
"Sorry about that, daddy," she said brightly, "but I got hung up in Ventura. It didn't pan out, of course, but Blossom and me got taken care of for awhile."
"You mean the way that I took care of you?" he asked sarcastically.
"Hey, daddy, don't come down on me like that! That's a rotten trip to lay on your momma!"
"Well, it wasn't much fun waiting for you to show up last night either, baby ... just me and twenty couples making out in the back seats of cars! Besides, I've got a brutal hangover this morning, so if you'll excuse me...." .
He turned on the ignition and revved the engine.
"Wait, Porter. Don't run out on me like this. Stay and talk to me awhile. I know a super hangover remedy...." she said, grinning at him devilishly.
"Sorry, kid. I'm late for work." And he put the Imperial in reverse. Judy ran after him, hanging onto the car.
"Please ... oh please don't go, Porter! Let me see you again!" Her full breasts jostled as she ran, and Porter remembered how much he had enjoyed her the day before. He also remembered his decision to set her up in a modest apartment-followed by the vow never to see her again! She could be one hell of a mistress, he knew. But she was too flakey, perhaps. She might split without warning. Oh, what the hell, he would give her one more chance to prove her responsibility.
He pulled a piece of paper from a pad in his glove compartment, took out his Mark Cross pen and wrote down an address. Then he put the words "1:00 p m.-sharp!", underlining the "Sharp" three times. "If you're not there in time, we'll never see each other again," he warned her.
Judy read the address, gave him a puzzled look and then broke into a smile. "I'll be there, daddy. Don't worry, I'll be there with bells on!"
"I hope so," he said tersely, then he drove away.
Nadia surveyed her swollen cheek in the bathroom mirror. The bastard! she swore to herself. In addition to a slight swelling, there was the purplish cast of a bruise. Her jaw ached. She wanted to get back at Porter somehow, despite the delicious and unexpected pleasure he had given her the night before when she had reached her surprising climax. He was like a complete stranger, demented and deranged with anger and lust. Worse, she didn't think she would ever be able to trust him again. He had broken some indefinable bond in their marriage by his cruel attack on her, and that tie could never be mended, no matter what he said or did.
She decided to shower, then set about cleaning the house, armed with a Bloody Mary to fortify herself. She didn't hurry-there was no time limit. Hadn't Mickey Prince said he would phone her first? Going to the restaurant today was out of the question, of course, with her swollen jaw. She hoped she would be able to convince him that her interest was sincere, though she couldn't make an appearance today.
The morning breezed past, with Nadia caught up in the much-needed housecleaning. She had the faint notion that she was preparing for something, though she didn't know what. There was a long, chatty phone call from Margaret. Nadia carefully avoided any mention of the job interview or of the nightmarish events which followed.
Nadia was vacuuming the living room carpet when there was the loud buzz of the front doorbell. For an instant she froze. Good God, who could that be? She glanced at her watch-it was ten minutes past eleven. Quickly she turned off the vacuum, smoothed her wraparound dress, ran her fingers through her hair and went to the door.
She nearly let out a yelp of horror when the face on the other side of the door turned out to be that of Mickey Prince! Instinctively, Nadia's hand went to her face. The purple bruise had blended with the scarlet flush of embarrassment. Prince was smiling warmly.
"Mr. Prince!" she said with a gasp of ... terror.
"Hello, Nadia," he said pleasantly. "I'm sorry to barge in on you like this. May I come in?"
"Why ... eh ... of course, Mr. Prince. I was just doing some...."
"Mickey," he said, interrupting her, "please call me Mickey."
"Uh yes ... Mickey ... please come in." Nadia was mortified.
Prince reached for a large black suitcase on wheels and rolled it inside with him. "Samples," he explained. "I wanted to try some of these on you and pin for any necessary alterations. That way there won't be any delays when you start to work. I want to place you in our best restaurant, 'The Wolves' Den' right from the beginning. You're going to be dynamite, Nadia."
"But do you always do your own alterations?" she asked, somewhat taken aback. A busy man like Mickey Prince surely wouldn't handle menial details like fittings ... unless....
"I grew up on Seventh Avenue. Used to be in the rag business before I got into restaurants. It seemed natural to me to combine the two. After all, any operation featuring good food and beautiful women can't be all bad, right?" He grinned at her. He was so confident, it made her feel a bit uneasy. She kept her hand up to her bruised cheek.
"Hey, what's the matter with your face, Nadia?" he asked with concern.
"Oh that ... I ... I ran into a cabinet door by accident last night," she lied. Hqr heart was beating faster.
"Well, I wouldn't figure you'd do it on purpose!" he grinned good naturedly. "Let me see that. We got a lot of doctors in the family. It kind of rubbed off on me by association."
"It's nothing, really," she said, drawing away from him. "May I fix you a drink?" She was on her way to the kitchen to replenish her Bloody Mary. Prince followed her.
"That would be fine," he agreed, "Whatever you're having."
Nadia tried to keep her face turned away from his gaze, but he kept looking at her strangely. Her hands were shaking when she poured the vodka into the glasses.
"Hey, that's quite a bruise you've got there, Nadia. That cabinet door must have really had it in for you!" he teased, touching her face gently. Again she pulled away. He could tell she was obviously upset. He knew damn well she hadn't run into any "Cabinet door."
Pressing her further, he asked, "And what does your husband think of your new job?"
"I ... I didn't have a chance to discuss it with him yet," she h-edged.
"Why not?" Prince wondered aloud, idly sipping his drink.
Nadia didn't know quite what to say. She didn't want to tell him the real reason. "Oh, well, he's sort of old fashioned. I thought I'd wait for just the right moment, after I had started earning my own money ..".'. "
"You mean he's the jealous type? ... Doesn't want his beautiful and desirable wife being oogled by other men?" he probed. "What kind of chauvinist is he, anyway? If you were my wife,-I'd be goddamn proud to show you off every chance I got. In fact, it would really turn me on to think of you parading your charms in front of a lot of other guys, then coming home to give me sweet ecstasy in bed...."
Nadia didn't know that happened next; suddenly, she was crying helplessly, leaning on Prince's comforting broad shoulder while he placed a paternal arm around her waist and comforted her as though she were a small child.
"Hey, I'm really sorry if I said something to upset you, Nadia. Come on, tell Uncle Mickey about it," he said paternally, steering her into the living room and onto the couch. "No ... I can't...." Nadia sobbed, "it's too terrible...."
Prince suppressed a secret smile. He had felt intuitively that the beautiful woman had some trouble in her marriage. She was playing right into his hands now....
"Look ... it would probably help a lot if you talked about it. Things always have a way of working out if you get them talked out," he assured her.
"I know," Nadia sniffed, "but I'm too embarrassed."
"Has he been mistreating you, honey?" Prince asked with solemn concern.
His last remark broke down her resistance. Nadia felt at that moment that she couldn't handle things alone any longer. Prince was almost a stranger, but because of that, she felt more inclined to talk to him than she would if he were a close friend like Margaret. She was so exhausted from the constant strain in her relationship with Porter. And she was so unhappy.
"We had a terrible row last night, because I got home a few minutes later than I planned to. Porter was waiting for me. Later than night-this morning, actually, he came home drunk and ... and ... there was another terrible scene. He struck me again...." she sobbed.
"I thought so," Prince added. "What a bastard! Does he treat you like that often?"
"No ... last night was the first time ... actually, twice last night. You see, he thinks I'm a frigid bitch. I called him a monster ... and a Pig."
"Well, are you? And is he?"
"No, I don't think I'm frigid. It's just that I can't respond to Porter. I'm too angry with him. He doesn't give a damn about my feelings or my needs. He's really married to his career! He won't let me have a baby."
"Is that what you really want, honey? You know, sometimes people think that having a baby is going to solve all their marital problems. But believe me, if the problems are serious, a child is only going to add to them."
"Now you're sounding like my husband!" she wailed. Prince gave her a reassuring hug. He had to backpeddle fast to win her sympathies again.
"I just mean that it only makes sense for you and Porter to work things out first, and then have a dozen kids if you want. Unless you think that the situation is hopeless ... Then, perhaps, you should look for another husband. After all, maybe Porter is not the right man for you...."
"But ... I love him! At least, I think I do...." Nadia affirmed. At that moment, she wasn't really sure. The situation seemed hopeless.
"What I mean is, maybe you need a different kind of man to arouse you...." Prince added carefully. "How long have you been married, Nadia?"
She hung her head, embarrassed to admit the truth. Finally, she said, in a very small voice, "Five years."
"Five years! And you're still not sexually compatible? Christ, you poor kid! You definitely need another kind of man!"
"But I couldn't ... I just couldn't think of...."
"Not even if it would help your marriage?...."
"No! It's wrong! I could never be unfaithful to Porter!" she said emphatically.
"Do you suppose he's ever been unfaithful to you?" he questioned slyly.
"Well ... I don't think so. At least, I don't know about anything like that-and I don't want to think about it!"
"Sure, honey, I understand," he said soothingly, as he massaged her shoulders and her tense neck muscles. He didn't have to say more. He had already planted the necessary seed of doubt which would sprout taproots of "justification." Things were working out just as he hoped they would.
Mickey's remarks disturbed the troubled beauty. She wanted to change the subject.
"Would you like another drink?" she asked, opening her eyes and sitting forward on the couch.
"No, thanks. I'm fine. You just sit back and relax. You're all tense and nervous. Just close your eyes and forget about everything and in a little while, you'll feel much better."
His voice was almost hypnotic, and his Aramis was sensually fragrant in her nostrils, as Nadia allowed herself to lie back comfortably against his shoulder with her eyes closed. She was trying to blank all her problems out of her mind.
Prince continued to reassure her, soothing her in gentle tones like a kindly uncle. He looked down at the still quivering auburn-tressed beauty and felt desire welling up in him. He had had so many women that most of them didn't even turn him on anymore. But this one sure as hell did! He knew he'd have to go to a lot of trouble to get her, but man, would it be worth it! She was a living, breathing goddess, and she was playing right into his hands!
He deftly massaged her neck and shoulders for a long while, until he had established trust with her and he could feel the knots of tension yield under his expert touch. Then very casually, he worked his hand lower, until it came into breathtaking contact with her palpitating breast. Her breath quickened for a moment when he touched her nipple through her dress, but she didn't say anything. He could feel the little bud hardening under his touch, burgeoning with obvious desire. Her whole breast seemed to strain against his palm, and lay warm and throbbing in his hand.
"Oh don't ... please, Mickey...." she mumbled half incoherently. But she made no attempt to stop him.
"It's all right, honey," Prince cooed, "there's nothing wrong with it. Just relax, and don't worry about a thing." His hand slipped lower, coming to rest on her thigh. He felt it quiver under his touch, as he began to edge his fingers lower, until they had found the hem of her dress. Then he eased his hand under the fabric, onto the bare expanse of her flesh, and let his fingers crawl along the sleek sensitive surface.
"No, Mickey, please...." Nadia attempted feebly with a hand placed in the path of his. But he patted it gently and lifted it away. Her brain was reeling. She couldn't seem to get control of herself. Prince's warm hand felt good on her thigh. She felt she should make him stop, but she really didn't want him to. If only she hadn't had that second Bloody Mary!
Carefully, Prince edged his fingers upward until at last they came into contact with the thin nylon crotchband of her panties. It was wet!
"Now honey," Mickey said again, "this is going to make you feel good. You'll really like it, and it'll calm you down so that you won't feel nervous and tense anymore...."
Relentlessly, his searching fingers slipped under the narrow legband of her panties and came into tantalizing contact with the first straying wisps of curling pubic hair. Nadia jerked back as if stung, her eyes flying open in horror.
"No, Mickey, please don't touch me there!" she shrieked, trying to pull away from him. But his fingers still clung to the sensitive flesh between her moistened thighs and his arm tightened around her shoulder, restraining her.
"Listen, Nadia, you like my fingers stroking your cunt, don't you?" he said, his voice low and husky. "Don't you? I know you do ... or you would have stopped me before now, wouldn't you? ... You would have stopped me before I put my hand inside your panties!"
"No! I ... I...." Words failed her. It was obvious that her protest was a lie.
"If you didn't like it, you wouldn't be all hot and wet down there, would you?" he went on.
A crimson blush spread over Nadia's tear-stained face. She did like it, there was no denying that. And Mickey knew it! Oh dear God, what must he think of her?
"It's only natural, honey. You're starved for love. Porter is not doing right by your beautiful, deprived body. It's time someone thought about your needs."
That did it. Nadia couldn't stand it any longer. She was past resisting. Prince's last words contained an appeal under which all her remaining defenses toppled. He was right-Porter never seemed to consider her needs-and that was the crux of the conflict between them, as far as she was concerned. Here was a warm and sympathetic man who wanted to give her something for herself. Yes, her own flesh was crying out for love and attention. And she couldn't fight it!
Prince sensed victory. It won't be long, now, he told himself gleefully. Nadia is mine for the taking!
His questing fingers inched forward another millimeter and came into exhilarating contact with the pulsating outer folds of her tremulous pussy. He could feel the slight throbbing of the swollen outer lips, fringed with a thin line of soft hairs. Then, without hesitation, he plunged his middle finger up into the moist darkness of Nadia's unresisting cunt.
"Aaaaaggghhh ... Noooooo...." Nadia cried helplessly, wriggling her buttocks in a frantic but belated attempt to resist.
She was in a daze that she couldn't break out of. With one part of her mind, she realized that Prince was stroking and caressing her vagina, but with the other, she realized nothing but the comforting sensations that emanated from her aroused pussy; that, and the consoling reminder that he was offering her something she badly needed, offering her, too, a comfort and solace that was never forthcoming from her husband. And she couldn't refuse that. She needed it too badly.
Mickey continued to probe the quivering wet folds and creases of her sensitively squirming vagina, plunging deeper and deeper into the warm, open flesh. Her thighs spread now, a little of their own accord, and he began to ease down her confining panties, leaving them dangling above her knees. Her dress was bunched up above her hips, exposing the tingling plane of her loins to his hungry gaze. Ruthlessly, his fingers played in the velvety softness of her openly spread cunt, making her gyrate and twist with mingled feelings of pleasure and conscience.
Suddenly, his middle finger came into contact with the hard little knob of her clitoris and began instantly to titillate the erogenous little bud.
"Ooooohhh . , . " Nadia sighed, as she unconsciously slipped down lower on the couch. She couldn't believe the little wisps of pleasure that were curling around inside her. She was beginning to love Prince's lewd fingering! Her writhing, moaning body was ample evidence. The feeble warnings in her brain were totally bypassed by the surfeit of sensual pleasure she was experiencing.
"Mmmmmmmm ... aaaaahhh...." she gasped again, giving herself over completely to her sensuous longings. She was devoid of resistance now. She had no option but to acquiesce. Involuntarily, she began to grind her pelvis rhythmically against his nakedly swirling fingers, forcing the desire-driven flesh against his pleasure-giving digits.
Mickey's fingers, darting and flicking with expert agility, began to tickle gently at the tiny fluted inner lips which surround the pulsing, star-shaped entrance to her helplessly aroused body. Nadia mewled with new excitement as they brushed tantalizingly against the delicate, fragile flesh. Then, without warning, he abruptly plunged them into the wet, clinging cuntal sheath.
"Aaaagggghhh!" Nadia gasped in mingled surprise and pleasure. Immediately, the soft, tender inner walls began to milk voraciously at the dipping fingers, closing in on them like a velvet glove. Prince worked his fingers smoothly in and out of the hungrily welcoming channel in simulation of fucking, filling the room with lewd, wet sluicing sounds.
Meanwhile, his other hand was not idle, but reached inside Nadia's dress and cupped first one breast and then the other, provoking more sighs and gasps from the helpless frustrated wife. He freed one breast from the shielding fabric of her dress bodice, bringing it into naked view for his lusting eyes-and mouth. Nadia swooned slightly, attempting another feeble and short-lived protest, until his warm mouth enclosed the quivering breastflesh and sucked it slowly, drawing the tender mammary in and out of his wet oral cavern as though he were nursing on it. Then he took the turgid nipple gently between his teeth and bit it erotically, sending more spasms of pleasure through the yielding and aroused beauty. He could have done anything to her then-probably even fucked her. But he would wait for that. By the time he got through with Nadia, she would do anything he wanted-anytime he wanted. He would have to play it very cool for now, and he was ... but later....
"You like that, honey? You like what I'm doing to you?" he whispered coarsely to her.
"Ye-esss ... oh yesssss!" she hissed passionately.
"It's all for you baby ... all for you! You deserve it!"
He turned his attention to her other breast now, while his hand continued to fuck her pussy. She was like a madwoman, twisting and flailing wantonly on the sofa, her thighs lasciviously splayed, her softly rounded buttocks grinding incessantly into the yielding cushions. Hoarse cries of lust escaped her lips, but she was beyond caring now. All that mattered was the unbelievable spasms of pleasure which were shooting through her with lightning speed, emanating from the fiery, tingling zones of her wildly excited vagina, and from the aroused breasts which Prince continued to suck and lap and caress expertly with his tongue. His mouth and his fingers were wonderful givers of incredible pleasure. She had never felt so aroused before.
Urged on by the rising tide of her passion, she pounded her turgid little clitoris against his hand while at the same time, tried to coax the driving fingers further and deeper into her greedily clasping cuntal sheath.
All at once, she felt Prince move down her body, abandoning her breasts. It happened so quickly that she hardly had time to react before his head was between her thighs and she felt the first searing contact of his tongue on her pussy. She was shocked, but she couldn't stop him-even if she had wanted too. She was too near to climaxing. Pleasure, in maximum force, had been building up inside her. The unexpected and thoroughly maddening touch of Prince's tongue on her throbbing clitoris brought her over the edge.
"Oooohhh ... oooohhhh, God! I'm ... cuuuummmming! I'm cuuummmiiinnnggg!" she cried insanely, her body flailing and thrashing out of control as wave after wave of excruciating pleasure washed over her like breakers on a beach, tossing and tumbling her in their foaming wake as though she were a pebble. Each wave brought her to new heights of ecstasy. She had never experienced anything like the tremendous power of this release, and all the tension seemed to ebb from her body, leaving her limp and exhausted. Her head seemed to be going round and round and she felt as if she were in some kind of limbo, waiting to be put back together again.
Finally, the tremors began to subside, leaving her quivering and trembling like an aspen leaf. The room began to spin around her, and she gratefully slumped over on the sofa, only vaguely aware that Mickey was getting up, asking to use the bathroom. She didn't even notice the huge erection he had, nor the way he walked stiffly out of the room. In the intoxicating cloud of her diminishing orgasm, she closed her eyes and drifted into a brief and light sleep.
CHAPTER SIX
Porter's real estate firm managed an apartment complex in Leimert Park, near Crenshaw Boulevard, an integrated area of Los Angeles that was showing faint signs of seediness, though still respectably middle class. The buildings, known collectively as Precita Court, were one and two-story stucco units with red tile roofs and wrought iron grill work that characterizes so much of the Spanish-influenced architecture of the twenties and thirties in Southern California. It was there, at 124 Precita Court, that Porter saw Judy's VW bus parked when he arrived at 1:03 P M. that day. She had kept her part of the bargain, all right. Now, he would keep his. That was, if Judy panned out the way he expected her to!
She climbed out of the van to meet him when he drove up. She was sporting a leather bracelet with-sleigh bells attached! "Told you I'd be here with bells on!" she grinned.
That was one thing Porter liked very much about her-her enthusiasm. He failed to understand how any woman with the rotten life Judy led could be so cheerful. Maybe it was all a mask. If so, she was a damned good actress.
"What's this all about?" she asked innocently.
"You'll see." Porter answered with a grin. She was holding Blossom under her arm. Porter looked around, hoping there was no nosey neighbors peeking out from behind Venetian blinds. The owner preferred to rent to working people, and so most of the building's occupants would be away, Porter knew. There was a handyman, Manuel, who had a small studio. But he slept more than he worked, especially during the midday "siesta".
They walked up the narrow concrete path flanked by a closely cropped lawn until they reached the door of the tidy bungalow. Porter shuffled through a dozen keys until he found the one which turned the big brass lock. Opening the door, he stepped back to allow Judy to enter the cottage. It was a so-called "furnished" cottage, though the furnishings were sparse and shabby and fairly depressing. He let her explore the small living room and the "modern" kitchen-modern in the 1930 sense, though there had been some slight remodeling since. Then she went to the bath, and finally, to the tiny bedroom. She came back to the living room with a puzzled expression on her face.
"I give up." she said with a shrug.
"Like it?" he asked casually.
"Well, sure. It's great. But I don't understand."
"How are you at decorating?"
"Oh, I'm a whiz. And I can paint like crazy. Actually, with a paint job, and a few slipcovers and some pictures, this could be very cozy, quite far out."
"
"No purple. And no black. And none of that psychedelic stuff."
"Naw. That's been done anyway. But I still don't understand, Porter." she protested.
"We've been having trouble renting this unit. But the owner is unwilling to pay for decorating. I figured you need a place to stay, and you could fix it up in exchange for free rent...."
"You mean fix it up so that I can get my ass kicked out of here just when I've got it nice and liveable, huh?"
"Not if you play your cards right." he grinned, taking her in his arms. The small wriggling bundle came between them. He stepped back a little, embarrassed. "Judy, I'm willing to pay the rent and see that you have a home. I can't say how long the arrangement will last. That depends, in part, on you. I suppose I'm crazy, but I want to do this for you ... I want you to be my...."
"Mistress," she said for him. "Gee, that's far out. I've never been anyone's mistress before."
"I don't want you out on the road trying to turn tricks for food money. You're not that kind of girl, I know that."
"But what about your wife?" she asked sincerely.
Porter's anger flared. "Leave that frigid bitch out of this. She's a wife in name only, understand?"
"Yeah, yeah I get it. Okay, we won't talk about your wife...."
"Don't mention her again."
"Sure thing, daddy," she said, nodding her head. She was looking at him incredulously.
"Now look, Judy," he said, reaching for his wallet and pulling out several bills, "I want you to make a list of all the things you think you'll need to get this place spruced up. Also write a shopping list of food, and go get it at one of the big supermarkets-these local Ma and Pa operations rob you blind. Then take this dough-$110 bucks-to the post office and get a money order, which you'll put in an envelope and address to my firm. Here," he said, handing her his business card, "here's the firm name and address. Don't mail it-. I'll be back later this afternoon to pick it up."
"But you're not going now, are you?"
"Sorry, sweets, but I must. I've got a 1:30 appointment with a new lister. Oh, here's a key," he said, taking a duplicate off the large metal ring. "Don't lose it. In fact, get another one made. And get something decent for dinner ... we're spending the evening together. You can cook, can't you?"
"I'm practically Cordon Blue!"
"Terrific. But no escargots, please. I can't stand the slimy little things!" He started to go.
"Porter?" she called after him. He turned, his hand on the doorknob. "I must not be much of a mistress if I don't even rate a kiss on the cheek...."
Without a word, he walked back slowly to her, motioning for her to put the baby down, which she did. Then he took her in his arms and kissed her passionately on the lips, feeling his cock rise immediately as his tongue probed inside her tender mouth. She returned his kisses eagerly, running her hands all up and down his back. If it hadn't been for his appointment, he would have made love to her right on the living room floor. He had to use all his will power to pull away from her. Finally, through his coarse breathing, came the request, "Don't forget to buy sheets!"
"Stripes, checks or flowers?" she asked impishly.
"Baby, I don't care if they're polka dots, just as long as your beautiful naked body is on them!"
Porter approached the Owen residence in time to see two burly police officers shove Avis's father into a squad car, while the hysterical girl, wearing a bathrobe and leather sandals was being held tightly by the elbow under the beefy grip of a stern-faced matron who had the unmistakable look of a civil servant in a custodial position. "Good Christ!" Porter said aloud to himself. He figured that the worst had happened. He drove by quickly, just as Avis was pushed into a dark grey Chewy, then he circled the block, pulling up in front of a neighbor's house. The woman was standing on the sidewalk, watching the two official cars turn the corner.
Porter got out briskly, pretending ignorance of the situation. He made his way up to the Owen door and rang the bell, turning to smile cordially at the gaping neighbor. After a few minutes, he placed his card under the door and walked down the steps. He smiled again at the neighbor. "I guess they're not at home," he said to her.
"No, and they ain't likely to be, either," she snorted.
"Pardon me?" he said, going up to her.
"I'm the real estate agent with whom Mr. Own was listing his house. We had an appointment today."
"Issat so?" the woman sniffed imperiously. "So he was fixin' to sell the house, was he?"
"Why yes, ma'm. I understand it was too much for Mr. Owen to care for, with his wife deceased."
"I dare say. That lazy, good-for-nothing daughter of his never did a lick of work around there. But she did a lot of other things for him...."
"I'm afraid I don't understand," he lied.
"Just as well. Nothing for decent folks to discuss anyways. Shameful, the goings on in that house. Poor Lila Owen would turn over in her grave if she knew. She was a good Christian woman: But that daughter of hers was a bad seed from the beginning. It was the Devil's way, all right. But now them two got their comeuppance!"
"What happened to them, ma'am?"
"If you'd a been here two minutes ago you'd a seen the two of them being hauled off by the law, that's what. 'Bout time, too!"
"But surely they're not criminals. What have they done in violation of the law?" he probed.
"You don't call incest a crime, mister?" she asked, eyeing him self-righteously.
"Incest? Surely they wouldn't...."
"They not only would, they did ... and plenty!" she hissed.
"But how do you know for certain?"
"Mister, you ask too many questions. If a cat is black, one look will tell you so. Lots of people must of knowed, and somebody squealed to the cops. Guess they had somebody spyin' on 'em. Caught 'em right in the act!"
"Well, that's terrible! I mean, a terrible thing ... Thank you for your time, ma'am. Sorry to bother you."
"Tweren't no bother," she said flatly, as Porter climbed into the Imperial and gunned it. He was perspiring, shaking inside. He didn't know whether to feel relieved or threatened. What if Avis implicated him during questioning? He regretted bitterly his foolish escapade with her the day before. Damn, that was stupid of him! What was wrong with him? He was behaving like a child instead of a responsible man. It was all Nadia's fault, he decided. She was driving him crazy with her castrating treatment of him, with her piteous wounded looks, hounding him about having a baby all the time, while being a block of ice in bed. Was it his guilt, as well as his desire to hurt her that had unconsciously motivated him to become entangled with Judy-the mother of a half-black kid? What the hell was wrong with him, anyhow? He needed a drink-or maybe a shrink, or both!
He downed a couple of fast martinis at a nearby bar and then headed back to the office, where he reported the surprising turn of events to his boss. Fortunately, Owen had signed the listing contract the day before. But now, with him in the jug, who knew what would happen? The department of criminal justice could be counted on to screw things up royally in a lot of red tape.
He made a quick phone call to Nadia. "I'll be home late. I'm having dinner with a client in Santa Monica. Don't wait up." He said goodbye and hung up, sighing with relief that she hadn't questioned him. Her tone was strained, and he knew she was still pissed off at him for what had happened the night before. He forced the painful memories out of his mind, plunging into his work like a man possessed. He wanted the hours to pass quickly, so that he could once again be in the comforting presence of his sexy new mistress. Having Judy made him feel important, like a wheeler dealer. Precita Court wasn't exactly the Beverly Hill Hotel, but it was a good, safe place to start. And Judy was a good woman to start with. Hell, if Nadia was going to hold out on him all the time, why shouldn't he have a little something on the side? That was his rationale, though somewhere, deep in his conscience, a nagging little voice piped, Who are you trying to kid?
Porter let out a long low whistle when Judy opened the door. She was wearing a wild crocheted dress that did little to conceal her large protruding nipples or the patch of pubic hair between her legs. He could smell her cleanly fragrant herb and lemon scent. The sight and the smell of her excited him greatly. Judy was smiling brightly, as she did so often. He liked her naturalness, her lack of artifice. For a kid who had been knocked around the way she was, Judy was not the least bit hard or embittered. She was a doll. Being a mother had mellowed away that awful 'teenager' quality that so many young girls had. Judy was young and fresh, yet she was a woman. A lovely combination, he thought to himself.
"That's the sexiest getup I've ever seen!" he said. "I don't know whether to grab you or just stand here and drink you in for a couple of hours."
"A man could get thirsty that way. Why don't you try stepping inside your home-away-from-home first?"
"Great idea. And speaking of thirst, I brought something for us to celebrate with. Here." He handed her a bottle of chilled champagne. "Do we have glasses?"
"Alpha Beta's finest!" she said cheerily. "Only they're just wine glasses. Hope that's all-right."
"Baby, I don't care if they're jelly jars. I only have eyes for you. That dress!" he enthused, his eyes rummaging hungrily over her well-shaped frame.
"I'm glad you dig it. I made it myself," she said proudly.
"Fantastic. But I dig what's inside it the most."
"Hurrah for the red-blooded American male!"
Judy had prepared an excellent eggplant parmigiana, with garlic bread and a crisp salad. She called his attention to the improvements she had already made in the dingy cottage, showing him the cans of paint which she had purchased on sale at Sears. He loved that. She was smart, and thrifty!
She had even placed candles on the table, which touched him. Looking at her in the soft glow, she seemed more attractive than ever. The candlelight cast a misty halo around her light brown hair. Her clear blue eyes gleamed. She had the healthy glow of youth that was irresistible to him. She smiled as his eyes travelled over her face and torso, which the apricot knit complimented so well. She obviously dug him looking at her, and his balls began to ache for the young charmer.
They drank their champagne slowly, until finally, Judy poured the last of the clear liquid into his glass and got up from the table. "Want to join me in the drawing room?" she said coquettishly. She moved a few feet away and sat down on some large soft pillows which she had brought in from the van. There were small lighted candles on the coffee table, too, and jasmine incense burning from a long slender stick. Altogether, the effect was exotic ... and very romantic. The illicitness of their arrangement added to Porter's intense desire for the young mother. He moved next to her. Then he had a disquieting thought. "Blossom?" he asked tentatively.
"Well fed and sound asleep-at least for a couple more hours," she smilingly reassured him.
"A couple of hours?" he asked, his mouth breaking into a slow smile.
"At least...."
Porter could stand it no longer. He grabbed her in his arms and pulled her to him. She wiggled sensuously as his mouth covered her lips. She opened her lips to accept the slithering probe of his tongue as it swirled its way toward her throat, and she teased and taunted his tongue with hers in return.
His hands glided up along the slightly curving slope of her sides, delighting in the warmth of her flesh radiating beneath the open mesh of her dress. His fingers found the broad-based nipples he sought and he squeezed them, eliciting a little groan of pleasure from her lips.
In response, her tongue plunged deeper into his mouth, flicking and whirling as it pressed forward. He opened his mouth wider to admit her oral invasion and his fingers squeezed her nipples again, clamping firmly into the pliant mounds of breasts he possessed. She quivered, her pelvis undulating suggestively against the side of his thigh. He was fumbling for a zipper. She drew away from him briefly. "No zippers, hooks or snaps. We do it like this," she said, rising to her feet and beginning to lift the clinging dress up over her body.
"You mean, I do it like this!" Porter echoed, substituting his hands for hers. In a matter of seconds he had hoisted the enticing crocheted dress over her head and tossed it on the sofa. Judy was completely naked before his lusting eyes, and he gazed unabashedly at the provocative vision she presented in her innocent nakedness.
No longer coyly veiled by the enticing dress, the coral buds of her nipples stood hard and erect atop the trembling cones of her large, sleek breasts. Porter's eyes roamed freely over them before his glance drifted to the mossy triangle that furred the protruding mound of her womanhood. He then began to peel away his own clothing, and Judy's sensitive fingers assisted him. At last, they were both naked, and she lay back on the pillows, leaning against the sofa. As she positioned herself on the floor, he glimpsed the traces of sparkling moisture that glistened in the silken curls of her sexual down. She was excited and ready for him-a prospect he didn't mind, since the alluring invitation she presented had his cock jutting from his loins like a flagpole.
He allowed his eyes to rove once more over the length of her satin-smooth body as he knelt beside her on the floor. His hands reached out and gently caressed the softness of her creamy thighs. Judy sucked in her breath and emitted a pleased moan.
Porter's hands tenderly circled over the silky flesh of her thighs while his eyes fastened on the sweet knoll of her sex and the exciting pink cleft of her pussy. He began to follow his hands with his lips, bending low over her until his lips were pressed to the nether mouth of her body. She moaned and her pelvis lurched upward, framing his face in the lovely swirls of her pubic bush.
Then his tongue curled out from his mouth, washing over her crotch, up and down the pink slit of her labia. He began to lap and lave her methodically, igniting new fires of desire in the panting young woman. Taunting her, he ran the tip of his tongue around the bud of her clitoris, working the sensitive pleasure button into a throbbing center of lust. Then his tongue once more slid down the moist slash of her pussy lips and speared determinedly into the nectar-flooded channel of her cunt.
Whimpering with rising passion, her pelvis lurching with each firm plunge of his tongue, Judy buried his face in the sandwiching lips of cunt, which trembled with mounting passion. Again and again, he lapped and licked her eager pussy, each seductive swirl of his tongue receiving appropriate sighs and groans of gratification.
Porter worked her pussy masterfully, his tongue swiping in and out of the pulsing lips of plump, excited flesh. He laved his tongue around in the slick well of her cunt, sucking and swallowing the abundant flow of natural sex fluids that flowed there. From between her legs, the wet smacking sounds filled the room, increasing her passion.
Suddenly, she came! "I'm ... going . ... to ... aaahhhh ... I'm cummmming!" she gasped, and her body convulsed spastically, as Judy was overcome by the savage ecstasy of a powerful orgasm, and she trembled violently, her body jerking again and again. She was all gooseflesh and honey, and Porter found his own excitement mounting as the young girl came and came on his mouth. He bathed her in kisses and tonguings until she almost begged him to stop. Then, withdrawing his tongue from the hot, flowing channel of her cunt, he gave it one last kiss and slid atop her and between her invitingly widespread thighs. She was still shuddering as the turgid length of his prick homed into the waiting chamber it avidly sought. Porter lurched forward, slamming their pelvises together loudly as his shaft rammed deeply inside the delicate folds of her cunt.
The contracting pussy sheath sucked at him, while he screwed his hips around, grinding his crotch into hers and stuffing her full of hard, hot cock. Judy's mouth opened in writhing pleasure-pain and incoherent groans of fulfillment escaped her throat.
Porter lay atop her, locked deeply within the scabbarding tunnel of her belly, holding her tightly as the last of her quaking climax ebbed within her. She was a soft bed of voluptuous womanflesh beneath him. His cock jerked and twitched inside her, anxious for its own release in the deep and fiery recesses of her cunt. But he lay there very still, soaking in the delicious torment of postponement, caressing Judy as she descended from the dizzying heights of orgasmic pleasure.
Eventually, her eyelids fluttered open, and the misty look in her big blue eyes was testimony to the satisfaction his mouth had provided. Her hands gently ran up and down his back, teasing at the corded muscles beneath his skin.
"God, Port," she sighed heavily, "that was so beautiful! You are fantastic!" she smiled up at him.
"May I say the same for you, my duck?" he said, smiling back at her.
His mouth met hers and their tongues danced around each other as she contracted the muscles of her pussy around his rigid prick, sending shafts of pleasure through the thick length of sex-meat.
His hips twitched and bucked upward, sliding his throbbing prick from the depths it has penetrated. Then he slammed back into the open channel to her belly.
Judy felt the full impact of his lunge, and she grunted with desire as he reamed her pussy with his cock.
"Uuuggghhh!" she moaned, as he shafted her once again, burying his massive cock to the hilt in her quivering pussy. "God! It's fantastic! Oh, daddy, fuck me! Fuck meeee!"
Porter drew back, then he thrust at her again, serving her the full portion of his hot meat, allowing the quivering, juicy folds of her pussy walls to devour him. The engorged head of his cock jerked and jumped in a positive reaction to the pleasure-producing friction that enflamed its sensitive surface.
Porter's cock was a huge, hard skewering implement. The lust-filled prod stretched the tightly clinging channel of her pussy each time he invaded her, packed her. She squeezed him, milked him, clutching at the fiery bludgeon that filled the hot recesses of her cunt as though she never wanted to be free of it. And she didn't.
Her broad breasts, like two ripe melons, were quaking beneath her lover, stabbing him with the insistent nipples that were pressed into his hairy chest. She moaned under the increasing assault of his cock. Her body moved again, twisting and writhing under him. Her unbelievably tight vagina squeezed and sucked wetly at the full broad length of him, sending a series of sizzling sensations speeding through his groin. The cheeks of his ass were two boulders of driving desire as he slammed in and out of her voracious cunt.
She ate him with the lusting mouth between her thighs, wanting to devour his manhood, balls and all. Their bodies were perfectly, harmoniously synchronized, as Judy returned each thrust of his with an upward lunge.' They were even panting at the same tempo, groaning with the same degree of inflection and intensity. It was fantastic.
Porter's balls burned as though filled with molten lava. He began to buck faster and faster on Judy's willing body, and she complemented the increased tempo by matching his movements with her own compatible ones. The globes of her firm ass bounced on the pillows beneath her as Porter knifed in and out of her accommodating cunt. Judy's whole body was intensely alive with his. The hurricanes of lust and desire raged within both of them.
"Oh! Oh, it's so good! So far, fucking out, baby!" she cried, as she dug her fingers into the tense mounds of his buttocks, pulling him into her even more.
Porter's body was steaming. Sweat dripped from every pore, as he rammed into her, pulled back, then rammed her again. Finally, his balls would no longer hold back the fiery load they contained. He came, and the flood of heated white jism gushed into the steaming receptacle of her eager belly. "Oooohhh!" he moaned, as shot after shot of viscous, hot sperm flooded Judy's waiting cunt. Porter writhed epileptically on the wildly aroused young woman, who milked the heavy jets of release from his groin with passionate abandon. Then she was there-again. She was cumming, too! Crying out in uninhibited ecstasy, Judy bucked and twisted under her clandestine lover as she sought to capture forever the impaling length of his spearing prick. She came on his cock, and her grateful pussy juices melded with the flooding seminal fluid that poured freely from the handsome real estate agent. They were lost in each other, and in the mutual ecstasy that pervaded their bodies. They clung together, happily accepting the tremendous pleasure they had so willingly given each other, long after the violent tremors had subsided and they dwelt in the delicious afterglow of fulfillment. They kissed and caressed each other tenderly. Neither of them spoke for a long while. Words were unnecessary.
Before Blossom awoke, and before Porter reluctantly showered and dressed to go, they had fucked happily again-this time, with Judy on top, and used their mouths to satisfy each other in a wild and thoroughly enjoyable '69' session. Porter left the cottage feeling ten feet tall. Yes, he mused triumphantly to himself, he had made the right decision about Judy after all!
CHAPTER SEVEN
The days following her wanton submission to Mickey Prince were sheer torture for Nadia. She painfully, recalled his lewd fingering, and her ears seemed to be filled with her lascivious moans of pleasure. She couldn't seem to focus her attention on anything else, and she couldn't shake loose from her memory every embarrassing detail of his manipulations. She remembered how he had stayed afterwards, insisting that she be fitted in the shockingly revealing lingerie ensembles and clinging pantsuits, though her face was constantly flushed with embarrassment, and she wanted nothing more than to run from the room and lock herself behind the bedroom door. Mickey had prevailed upon her to submit to every change of clothing, speaking to her in a reassuring and soothing-tone like a sympathetic counselor. He showed no signs of uneasiness in her company, despite the intimate and lewd occurrence on the sofa, nor did he make any further attempt to compromise her sexually-which she was very grateful for. Still, she wondered if she would ever hear from the restaurant owner and agent again. She wasn't sure if she wanted to; she didn't know if she could ever face him again. On the other hand, the picture he had painted for her as a lunch-time model in his best restaurant was a very enticing one, especially in her forlorn and desperate state, and she couldn't bear to think of giving that up without ever having had a chance to explore her new "career" fully.
Her overwhelming guilt and shame led-her to feel that Prince would never contact her again, though he had insisted she would hear form him in a couple of days. But why should he phone her, after what she had let him do to her? Nadia didn't know what to do. Her conscience was haunted by the enormity of her transgression, while her body continued to experience a kind of buoyant exhilaration which she had never felt before. At times-especially after the habitual fortification with her breakfast Bloody Marys, Nadia would find herself thinking almost longingly of the sensual tremors which had cavorted up and down her spine as Mickey caressed her vagina and sucked on her breasts. She often found herself becoming aroused during those times, and was often tempted to put her own fingers in her pubic nest. But her enormous sense of guilt and conscience prohibited her from carrying out her lustful notions, and she was left with a deep and lingering sense of acute physical frustration.
She and Porter had barely spoken to each other since that awful evening when he had slapped her viciously and taken her without tenderness or ceremony. In fact, he spent less and less time at home, showing no signs of wanting a reconciliation. She would have made the effort, though she was still hurt and angry with him, but he didn't seem to care whether they made up or not. That was the trouble: he didn't care how or what she was feeling, and he never really had, she thought bitterly to herself. If he had cared, he wouldn't have brutalized her that night, and she would never have submitted to Mickey Prince. It was only because she was so upset and depressed over that incident that she had allowed herself to be influenced by Mickey ... and where had it led her?
Tears welled in her eyes and trickled down her face. She had finished her second Bloody Mary and she still didn't feel good. It had been three days since Mickey had been to her home and had brought her to that shattering climax, and rather than alleviate her problems, the incident seemed to create new ones. She buried her face in her hands and wept uninhibitedly.
At that moment, her sobs were interrupted by the insistent ring of the phone. Nadia sat bolt upright.
Dear God, who can that be? she said aloud. She couldn't bear to answer, but she was afraid not to. She cleared her throat, took several deep breaths, and picked up the phone tremulously.
"He-llo?" she answered in a small voice.
"Nadia? ... Is that you?" came a confident man's voice over the receiver.
Her heart jumped in her throat. She turned away, sniffed into a handkerchief and said finally, "Yes. Yes, it is."
"Are you all right? Sounds like you have a cold."
"It's nothing, really," she h-edged.
"This is your Uncle Mickey, kid. Can you come to my office today at 11:00? I know it's kind of short notice, but I just got a call from my alterations woman. The rags are ready, and I thought we'd have a go at them, in case there's any last minute stuff to take care of. Then I'll take you to The Wolves' Den, so you can see the operation before you start on the runway yourself. OK?"
Nadia was speechless. Her brain was reeling and she didn't know what to say. How could Mickey call her like that, without the slightest reference to what had happened?
"Well, can you make it, toots?" Mickey asked again.
"Mickey, I ... I don't...." she stammered, unable to give a firm answer one way or another. She wanted the job badly, it seemed a light in the darkness, a chance to get away from her dependency on alcohol; a way to fill the lonely hours, and fill them productively. But she wondered whether she shouldn't use this phone conversation as a chance to dissociate herself forever from Mickey Prince.
"Look, honey," Prince went on hi his best country doctor manner, "we've spent a lot of time, and gone to a lot of expense photographing you and having these high-ticket garments tailored specifically for you. I know you're going to be our most popular model-that's for certain. It means a hell of a lot of money for you, Nadia, as well as a chance to meet some new people and find out just how much a woman like you can be admired and appreciated. I think you need to know that ... for a woman as beautiful and desirable as you are, kid, you sure don't seem to be aware of it! Of course, if you've changed your mind ... there are dozens of women who would give their eye teeth to step into your place...."
No, I can't bear to turn it down, Nadia thought, succumbing to Prince's masterul psychological ploy. After all, he has gone to a lot of trouble for me, and once I start modeling, I won't even have to see him very often ... maybe never. And it is a wonderful opportunity to get away from my problems....
"Oh, by the way, Joy will be here to give you a hand...." he added. Nadia breathed a sigh of relief. That was just the bit of reassurance she needed to wipe away her doubts. Prince certainly couldn't get her in a compromising position with his female assistant in the office!
"Okay, Mickey, I'll be there," Nadia said breathlessly.
"Good girl. See you at eleven," he said brightly and hung up.
Nadia sat there for a moment. She was stunned by the phone call. She was going to be a model after all! A quick glance at her watch told her that she had very little time in which to prepare herself, and she hurried into the bedroom to lay out her clothes, then rushed to the shower. Trepidation filled her heart at the thought of seeing Mickey again, but he had said that Joy .would be there.
She couldn't back out. She would just have to make the best of it when she saw Mickey. What happened between them before was all a mistake. If he ever tried anything like that again, she'd let him know in no uncertain terms just where she stood!
Mickey Prince, noting that it was almost eleven, poured himself a tall glass of tomato juice over ice and added a wedge of lime. He carefully omitted the vodka, never having acquired much of a taste for liquor. Besides, he didn't want alcohol to dull his senses in any way-not with the beautiful lush, Nadia Haines, arriving. She really swallowed everything I told her, he thought smugly to himself. Still, he had to admit he was a little nervous. It was only natural, he consoled himself. Nadia was a rare piece of ass, with enough conscience to guide the Salvation Army! He didn't want to slip up with her. But he had found her points of vulnerability: booze, frustration and fearful insecurity. r Lucky for him she wasn't as sophisticated as she was gorgeous.
He heard the door to the outer office open. He pushed the button on his quartz digital watch: 11:07. If he knew Nadia, she would apologize profusely for being late.
Prince waited for her tentative knock on his door. "Come on in," he called cheerily. He got up to greet the apprehensive wife, who was wearing an elegant pantsuit whose tailored lines were designed to modify the impact of her stunning figure. But even the most severe clothes could not diminish the startling sex appeal of the statuesque beauty.
"I'm terribly sorry to be late," she apologized predictably. "I got here as fast as I could, but the traffic on the freeway...."
"Don't give it another thought, Nadia," he said, smiling warmly and clasping her hand in both of his. She averted her eyes. "You're right on time. How about a Bloody Mary?" he asked, going over to the small wall refrigerator behind his desk.
"No, I don't think so...." she protested weakly.
"You're not going to make me drink alone, are you?" he said, sipping his tomato juice.
"I thought Joy would be here .. , " she said idly, looking around the large room.
"She's due any minute now. In fact, I expected her before this. Joy has somewhat of a lateness problem. But she's so damned valuable to me, I don't dare say anything. She's worked overtime many times for me, so I can't get on her case too much when she's late."
"I see...."
"Surely you won't join me?" he asked again, drinking deeply from the tomato juice.
"Well, all right. A weak one," Nadia acquiesced.
"Coming right up." Prince mixed her drink with his back to her, putting in a double shot of vodka and masking it with a heavy dose of spices and lime juice. Then he turned to her, offering her the strong drink with a smile. "Try that on for size, Nadia."
"Thank you," she said, sipping from the tall glass. She was so habituated to the taste of vodka that she didn't react violently to the strong drink, he noticed. Again, things were going according to his lewd plan.
"We might as well get started," he said, going to the wardrobe closet at the other end of the room.
"What?"
"The try-ons," he said, pulling some familiar clothes out of the closet. Nadai recognized them as the ones she had been fitted, in that day at her home....
"Let's do the black job first," he said, handing the filmy nightgown and negligee to her. Nadia stood there, clutching the garment to her body. There was a painful look on her face.
"Well? What are you waiting for?" Mickey asked, noting her hesitancy.
"Would you mind stepping into the other room?" she asked him, a pleading look in her eyes.
"Why? I already know your secrets," he snickered.
"Please, Mickey, I'd rather not undress in front of you," she said, a fiery blush creeping up her face.
"Honey," he said in his paternal and concerned way, "you're not bothered by what happened the other day, are you?" (knowing full well that she was!) He came up to her and put a gentle hand on her hair. Nadia drew back, tears beginning to form in her light brown eyes.
"Frankly, yes...."she stated, putting her head down.
"Why, that's ridiculous. You've got nothing to hide. With an exquisite body like yours, you should want all the world to see it. Besides, I wouldn't do anything you didn't want me to do, Nadia ... you should know that," he said smoothly. "But, if it'll make you feel better, I'll go into the other office...."
"Yes, please...." she said gratefully.
Nadia prayed that Joy would get to the office quickly. She took off the pantsuit, her bra and pantyhose and was reaching for the sheer black nightgown, having taken a couple of deep swallows of her Bloody Mary, when the door opened suddenly and Prince burst in on her. She gasped, trying to hide herself with the nightgown.
"Sorry...." he apologized, "I thought you'd be dressed by now." He walked right over to the startled woman, whose eyes were wide with fear. "One thing you'll have to learn, Nadia, is that speed is all-important in the kind of runway modeling you'll be doing. You'll have to make lightning fast changes, right in front of the other models. There won't be time to go looking for a private room. You might as well get over that puritanical modesty of yours right now," he said sternly, jerking the nightie away from her, leaving her naked body defenselessly exposed to his greedy and admiring gaze. Her proudly upswept breasts sported stiff and erect nipples.
Prince stood in front of her for a moment. Then, without warning, he suddenly grabbed her and began kissing her on the lips, his tongue shooting into her mouth between her unresisting teeth. His arms were tight around her, and his jacket felt rough on her bare, naked flesh.
"Stop it, Mickey! Stop it!" she shouted as she managed to twist her face away from his assaulting lips.
"Why should I, honey? You know you like it. Just let yourself go, baby!" he whispered hoarsely. She could feel the massive club between his thighs pressing urgently against her bare flesh. His Aramis cologne was intoxicating her. Her head spun crazily.
"No, never! I'd rather die!" she shouted vehemently, pummeling his chest with her fists.
"Don't give me that shit, baby! You know you loved it when I had my fingers up your sweet pussy ... and then my tongue. You loved every frigging minute of it, didn't you? Didn't you!"
Nadia blanched, and self-loathing welled up inside her. He was right, of course. She had enjoyed his lewd fingering, in fact, she had loved every perverted thing he had done to her. No wonder he thought he could get away with anything....
"Please, Mickey," she began, trying a different tack, "let me go. It doesn't matter if I don't get the job, only please don't touch me any more...."
She gasped as she felt his fingers dip between her creamy thighs, and felt the first searing contact of his hand in the gently pulsing outer flesh of her trembling vagina.
"Oh, noooooo ... stop!...." she cried helplessly, as his fingers continued to probe and search among the wet velvety folds, probing deeper and more insistently with each wanton manipulation. Futilely, she tried to clamp her alabaster-white thighs together, but it was no use. He was in control; he had her in his power-and he knew it.
He was steering her determinedly to the large, black leather couch a few feet from them. She could feel his powerful muscles bulge as she tried to fight against him. But she was no match for the athletic agent. She was already weakened by the strong vodka, and by Prince's artful fingering in her hungering cunt. She hated to admit it, but she was attracted to the strongly masculine man. Her love-starved body could not be dissuaded by her stern and reprimanding conscience.
In an instant, she was flat on her back on the broad leather couch, with Prince kneeling above her, his fingers still working frantically in her oozing cunt.
"Now, baby, you can't tell Uncle Mickey you don't like it!" he said lecherously, his eyes lighting with lust as he stared down at the naked woman. "You like it as much as you did the first time!"
"That ... that was a mistake...." she said feebly.
"The only mistake was that I let it go at that ... for your sake. But I'm not going to let that happen again, baby ... that's for damned sure. You need to get fucked about as much as any woman I've ever known-maybe more so. That asshole husband of yours is probably screwing around on the side, leaving his gorgeous wife with screaming needs of her own. Can't you see that, baby? Don't you know that your whole body is crying out for my hands and my tongue and my cock?"
His words sent Nadia into a delirium of anxiety and arousal. She couldn't deny it. Her body was responding in exactly the same way as it had a few days ago. Although her brain reeled with the enormity of what was happening, though disgust and revulsion flooded her mind, her body reacted undeniably with sensual tremors of delight. She wanted to deny it, to cry out that it wasn't so, that Prince was wrong, but she couldn't. She knew she was enjoying it. She knew that deep down, beyond the barrier of her inhibitions, she wanted Prince to fuck her for all he was worth. Her cunt ached for his stiff cock. She was his for the taking.
Involuntarily, her thighs crept further apart, revealing the moist pink slit of her quivering pussy to his marauding digits. Pleasure surged through her, lifting her up to a magical plane of ecstasy, and her whole body took on a rhythmic churning, as low mewls of pleasure flowed unchecked from her mouth.
"Open your eyes, honey, and see what Uncle Mickey has for you," Prince rasped huskily.
A startled gasp escaped Nadia's lips as she opened her eyes and saw the huge, throbbing shaft of his fully erect penis, which he clutched obscenely in his free hand. She couldn't take her eyes off it. She hadn't imagined anything could be so big. It was even bigger that Porter's! It looked so powerful and strong, and it was an angry red color from the blood that was pumping lustfully through it.
"Mickey, please...." she whimpered piteously, frightened at the grotesque size.
At that moment, the door opened, and Joy waltzed in.
Nadia noted her with a combination of relief and mortification. Oh, thank God! Now he'll have to leave me alone! she sighed inwardly. But Joy seemed totally unembarrassed by the encounter, as though she had expected it. In fact, she had-Mickey had confided the intimate details of his first lustful conquest, of Nadia, and it was Joy who had helped him arrive at the plan to seduce the naive housewife. Joy hoped to gain something from the arrangement herself-she was a lesbian who had been attracted to Nadia from the beginning. Since Mickey got turned on at seeing two women make love, Joy was often a third party in his seductions, though he let it be known to her that he wanted Nadia principally for himself; she could have her pick of most of the other girls he hired.
"Hope I'm not interrupting anything," Joy said casually.
"Not at all. Fix yourself a drink. Nadia's been hoping you would show up," Mickey said facetiously.
Oh God, why doesn't she do something? Nadia wondered desperately.
"Well, it doesn't look as though you need my help ... you seem to be doing just fine, Nadia," Joy teased.
Nadia felt like screaming No! No! It's not the way you think it is! But her mouth was dry, and the words just wouldn't come out. Instead, she covered her eyes with a slender arm and turned to face the back of the couch. She coldn't believe that Joy thought she wanted things this way. But what else could she think about a woman who was lying spread-eagled on the couch, the openly receptive slit of her moist vagina lewdly presented to Mickey's wanton fingers, while the man hovered above her, his blood-inflated penis outstretched and ready to plow into her. Nadia's last avenue of retreat slammed shut. No one could help her now, not even Joy, who probably wouldn't believe her even if she did make an appeal to the overly-made up platinum blonde. There was nothing she could do!
"Hey, Joy," Prince boomed, "give Nadia a little motherly reassurance while I get out of these things."
"Sure, boss," the blonde said, coming up to the couch and sitting on the coffee table beside it. Her black eyes had a strange glint in them, and Nadia sensed something dark and mysterious in the petite woman.
Joy began to tenderly brush back the shining auburn curls from Nadia's damp forehead. Her touch was soothing, her voice caressing. Mickey was standing nearby, peeling off his clothes and leering at Nadia with undisguised lust. A self-satisfied smile dominated his face.
"Joy ... help me...." Nadia said in a waif-like voice.
"Don't worry, honey. Mickey's not going to hurt you. He knows what you need-even more than you do. You'll love it, I know," Joy answered. She was rubbing Nadia's arms now, lightly stroking them with her long, polished nails, and Nadia's body responded involuntarily to the girl's deft touch, though she felt extremely ill at ease with the other woman eyeing her naked body. Joy didn't seem to understand her plight either. She was more a conspirator than a friend, it seemed. But at that point, Nadia couldn't discern right from wrong. She was hopelessly confused, her aroused body urging an illicit liaison with her fast-talking employer, while her conscience pointed a condemning finger of guilt at her constantly. Before she knew what was happening, Joy was lightly and delicately stroking her breasts, causing the erect nipples to become even more turgid, with the coral areolas puckering distinctly in undeniable witness to the sensations within the aroused flesh.
Unable to control herself, Joy suddenly bent over the sprawled beauty and placed her warm and hungry mouth on Nadia's upthrust breast. The auburn-haired beauty gasped with surprise and shock. Dear God, what was happening to her now! First Prince, and then, his trusted assistant! Would there be no end to her humiliation?
"I'll do that!" Prince said, motioning Joy away with a wave of his hand. He was kneeling above her again, his body, looking like a cut-out from a physical culture magazine, poised for action. She drew in her breath sharply when she felt the hard, unyielding flesh of Mickey's penis nudge the softly quivering outer lips of her vagina. She tried to draw back, but the couch confined her. She couldn't close her thighs, because Mickey was crouched between them.
"No, Mickey, please...." she begged, and then....
"Aaaaaggggghhhhhh ... Noooooo...." she wailed aloud as Mickey pushed relentlessly forward, straining almost unbearably against the fragile tissues of her cuntal hole. He hesitated for a moment, then, gathering his strength, pushed the engorged head of his distended shaft past the protecting petal-shaped opening.
"Oh God ... you're killing me!" Nadia groaned as the giant rod cleaved into her unprepared flesh, forcing its way up into the clinging passage. He continued to plunge forward, the long hard tube of his cock splitting the cringing inner walls with brutal intensity.
"Uuuuuugggghhhhhnnnnn ... aaaaaaaa-hhhhhhh...." Nadia whimpered, her thighs cruelly spread, her futilely resisting vaginal sheath assaulted unmercifully by the lust-bloated hardness of Prince's hard-driving penis. He'll tear my vagina! she thought fearfully as he finally hit bottom, the heavy, sperm-laden sac of his testicles slapping lewdly against the upraised crevice of her buttocks. She could feel the rubbery head nudging against the tender tip of her cervix and she wanted to cry out against the ravishment. The knowledge that Joy was watching her debasement added to her humiliation, and she wondered again how she had let herself be manipulated in this way. Oh, God, what a fool I am, she thought bitterly, biting her lip as Mickey began to withdraw, pulling little pink tendrils of fragile pussy flesh out with his rock-hard shaft as he withdrew. Then he surged forward again, his time burying his long lunging cock to the hilt with one deep hard stroke.
"Aaaarrrhhh ... uuunnnngggg!" Nadia gasped again, as all the breath was forced from her body. But at last, her feminine secretions soothed the tender passage, and Mickey, feeling the changed response, began to saw in and out of her cunt rhythmically, his hands tightened around her hips as he labored over her. He began to work on her breasts again, milking them with his lips, tongue and teeth, producing sensations of unendurable excitement in the frustrated beauty. There was no doubt about it: Mickey was an expert lover.
He drove nakedly up between her widespread legs, sinking his passion-distended shaft completely in her moistly clinging cunt, and then withdrawing almost totally, until just the hard mushroom-shaped head was embedded in the tight pussy hole.
And then something happened that Nadia never expected to happen: she found that she was actually enjoying the fucking Mickey was giving her!
A deep shuddering tremor shook her body and then it began to roll and churn of its own volition. Little sparks of pleasure burst into raging flames deep between her legs and her whole body was bathed in a warm flood of intense arousal.
At first, out of deep mortification, she tried to hide it, tried to still the quivering between her legs. But her desire was more powerful than her willpower, and she couldn't contain her passion any longer.
"Mmmmmnnnn...." she sighed, spiraling her pelvis upward to receive Mickey's deep thrusts, her heated cunt flowering open in eager acceptance. Cautiously, her hands crept up and encircled his neck, pulling him down hard on her palpitating breasts, and in a daze, she moved her mouth up to clamp on his, her tongue hungrily flicking between his teeth. Passion raged out of control in her love-starved body, and she locked her ankles around his lower back, and clung to him voraciously. Suddenly, she couldn't seem to get enough of his pleasure-giving male body. She wanted to infuse every part of him. The heady muskiness of his heated flesh assailed her nostrils and made them flare with new-found pleasure. Her being and her senses were united in a quest for ultimate satisfaction.
All doubts and fears were forgotten in the mad rush of sensual excitement. She had no idea it could be like this. Certainly it never was with Porter. She had never responded like this, never felt the wild tremors of pleasure she was feeling now. Even the fact that Joy was watching excitedly gave her an illicit thrill, and nurtured an exhibitionistic streak that she never knew she possessed. She didn't care anymore that this lascivious coupling with a man who was not her husband might be wrong. She only knew that somehow he had the wonderful key that was unlocking her uninhibited responses, and she couldn't feel that making use of that key was wrong.
Their bodies were slapping wetly together in rising cadence. They clung to each other in mutual desire, their flesh warm and heated with passion. They bucked and rocked as one, united where his lust-maddened cock drove incessantly up into the hungrily clasping depths of her eager cunt.
"For a woman who hasn't gotten much, you sure know how to fuck!" Mickey rasped appreciatively. His lewd praise gave her an added tingle of excitement. Fucking. Yes, that was what she was doing, fucking another man ... and she was thrilled beyond belief!
Nadia's thoughts took on a kaleidoscopic image of how she must appear-naked, perspiring, flushed with lust, her head thrown back, her long russet hair streaming over her voluptuous shoulders. Now all her thoughts and feelings seemed to converge on the pivotal point between her legs, and she knew instantly that she was almost ready to climax. And it was not her husband, but another man who would send her to the heights of pleasure. She wasn't frigid-as she had feared in the past. She was a full-fl-edged woman, and it had taken Mickey Prince to bring it out in her.
Suddenly, all rational thought was extinguished, as a great rush of warm sensual excitement flooded over her body, making her feel as if she were drifting on the tide of some invigorating sea.
"Ooooohhh ... I'm cumming! Oh, God ... Mickey ... I'm cumming!" she shrieked suddenly, not recognizing her own lust-distorted voice. The words seemed to hang in the still air above her for a moment before crashing down to resound and echo a hundredfold in her ears, reflecting the rise and fall of the tiny waves of multiple pleasure crashing around inside her feverish body.
"Ooooohhhh! Ooooohhh! Oooohhh!" she sobbed helplessly, her curvaceous young body undulating with the force of her continuing orgasm.
In the back of her brain, she realized that Mickey was climaxing too, and then he was pounding against her with unbelievable fury, battering his loins against her upraised openly-spread cunt.
"I'm cumming too! Keep fucking ... aaa-nnnggg!" he groaned.
Nadia felt the first spurt of seething hot sperm as Mickey called out wildly, and it jetted in a thick stream into the hidden recesses of her hungrily milking pussy. Greedily, her inner sheath clutched at the flowing fluid, absorbing it all in its heated darkness, and Nadia was filled with a strange, satiated peace. The hot, white sperm that poured into her helplessly flooded little belly seemed to infuse her with warm relaxation, and she was able at last to lie back, breathing deeply and heavily with complete satisfaction.
At last, Mickey's twitching cock began to deflate inside her wet steaming passage and finally slipped harmlessly from between her legs, leaving her empty once more. But she was changed now. She'd never be the same again. Mickey had truly liberated her, something that her own husband couldn't do ... and she wouldn't have missed this for anything. Now, come what may, she was forever free from ther shackles of prudery and inhibition, and she felt a real debt of gratitude to Mickey. The smile on her lips and the tender expression in her eyes told him all he needed to know. Nadia didn't know it, but as far as Mickey was concerned, she was ready for anything now ... even Joy.
Nadia's eyes were closed, and she slipped into a half-conscious state, her body still glowing from the marvelous fucking Mickey had given her. She was dimly aware that he was getting up and walking away from the couch.
"Help Nadia get cleaned up, will you, Joy?" she heard Prince say to the blonde woman. She didn't see him wink at the slender receptionist, nor did she observe the silent gestures that passed between the two conspirators.
Nadia was drifting, without sense of time or space. At one point, she felt a towel being applied to her body, rubbing it briskly, then more gently, until the soft nubby texture was playing about her skin, provoking delighted chills of pleasure in the nerve ends of her flesh. Joy toweled her face, arms and belly. Then her breasts, and her legs and thighs. Nadia was enjoying the rubdown. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with it.
Joy rubbed the woman's sculpted thighs slowly, tantalizingly, and Nadia felt no embarrassment then, though she was still lying on her back with her thighs spread wide apart.
Joy's eyes were fixed on the dark russet mat of hair between Nadia's legs. Seeping from the pink, pulsing slit of her cunt was a stream of white creamy viscosity, the abundantly oozing evidence of Mickey's orgasm. She felt her own suppressed desire for the new model well up markedly in her. The strong, arousing odor of the recent coupling filled her nostrils, stirring her further. She shot another look at Mickey, who had emerged from a brief visit to the bathroom. He was still stark naked. He gave her a sign, urging her to put her desires into actions, as he tiptoed quietly up to the head of the couch, where Nadia was lost in the twilight zone of perfect relaxation. He crouched down next to the semi-conscious woman, as Joy inclined her head closer and closer to Nadia's wet snatch. Her lips brushed the smooth marble thighs and the milky white belly. Nadia stirred, still not fully cognizant of what was happening.
Mickey reached down and fondled Nadia's pussy; she smiled softly without opening her eyes. She recognized his touch. He used his fingers to spread the glistening labia, offering the deep, coral gash to his receptionist.
Joy accepted eagerly. Her tongue swirled out and dipped into the spongy moist cleft, and Nadia convulsed with pleasure. "Oh, Mickey," she moaned. The well-built man grinned to Joy, whose tongue swooped down with broad licking strokes, as she trembling with growing arousal. Each swiping lap of her oral digit wiped up the heavy drops of cum, as well as Nadia's own cunt juices. Joy savoured the mingled juices. She was in sex heaven.
Nadia began to stir and writhe, still keeping her eyes tightly closed, apparently under the delusion that it was Mickey Prince who was administering the cunt laving to her. Yet, there was something different about the touch. It was softer, gentler, yet very knowledgeable. She began to squirm and whimper with mounting arousal, and her pussy started to quiver again. Mickey used his other hand to caress her breasts, producing further moans of excitement from the newly aroused model-to-be. His prick was no longer a limp, dangling hose of sleeping flesh, but a growing length of hardened cock.
Joy quivered, fighting the urge to turn around and press her own cunt into Nadia's face. She wondered if she would cum merely by eating the other woman's pussy. She felt as though she could! Nadia's hips twitched and writhed as the blonde's tongue circled with marvelous slowness around and around within the quivering folds of her vagina.
The wanton sight of his receptionist sucking Nadia's pussy, knowing that the auburn-haired beauty believed it to be him, made Mickey's balls ache with desire again. Nadia's full sensuous lips were open invitingly, seeming to beg for his yearning cock. He wondered if she would balk at sucking him off. That would be something new for her-he doubted if she had ever sucked her husband's cock! He decided to wait a few moments longer, until she was too far gone to protest. Then he would give her a taste of his meat.
He motioned for Joy to halt her pussy licking momentarily. The blonde frowned, and reluctantly moved her face back a bit. Then he whispered to Nadia, "Do you like that, honey? Doesn't that feel good?"
"Ooooh yesss, I love it!" she breathed excitedly.
"Would you like to have some more, sweetie?"
"Yesssss ... oh, God, yes! It feels so wonderful!"
"Bet you never had your little pussy eaten like this before, have you?" he urged.
"Nooooo."
"Well, if you like it so much, why don't you ask for it...? Why don't you beg to have your cunt licked and eaten ... and sucked until you cum!"
"Yesss ... eat me ... suck my pussy ... lick my cunt ... suck me off!!!" she cried suddenly, her eyes flying open. Then she looked in horror, realizing that it was Joy who had been exciting her with her probing tongue!
"You heard the lady, Joy. Eat her good. Suck her pussy off!" Prince commanded. Joy needed no urging. Instantly she was down on Nadia again, burying her face eagerly in the beauty's steaming loins, relishing the taste of female pussy again.
Mickey straddled Nadia's face and stifled the girl's protest by shoving his cock into her mouth. Her eyes were wide with fear, but there was lust comingled with her fright.
"Relax, baby-a tongue is a tongue," he said, pressing her ovaled lips tightly around his stiff cock. "Oh, you've got such a beautiful mouth, baby. I want you to suck my hot prick with it, honey. My cock aches for your mouth and your tongue.
Nadia was helplessly pinned under the powerful man. Joy's tongue ran feverishly up and down the wet pink slit between Nadia's thighs, sucking and swallowing the natural flow of Nadia's pussy, drinking in the musky, saline fluids. Her tongue laved within the deep, fleshy cleft of woman sex, as if she were unable to lick enough of the delicious cunt. She wiggled the probing tip against the protruding bud of Nadia's clitoris, sending shafts of pleasure through the tormented woman. It was too much for Nadia to bear.
"Suck it baby, ohhh, suck it!" Mickey urged her, his eyes wild with lust. His command prompted Joy to speed up her oral manipulations on Nadia's helpless cunt, until the young housewife was overcome with excitement, and she began to close her lips around Prince's invading cock and lick and suck him inexpertly. She found that she liked the taste of his cock ... in fact, she thought it was fantastic!
"Harder, honey, suck it harder and deeper!" he commanded her, pumping up and down on her chest, fucking her in the mouth with his huge prick. She gagged a couple of times, and thought she would choke to death, but Prince was careful not to force his rod too far into her throat. He was writhing and panting now, his face a mask of lust.
Nadia, too, was caught up in the passion, fired by the illicit and perverted acts that were being forced upon her. Her hips began to rock back and forth, and she drove them into Joy's face, fucking the other woman's mouth with her hot pussy. The room was filled with wet sucking sounds, as the three of them writhed and churned, lost in the heat of incredible passion. Joy's fingers were in her own yearning pussy, working her clitoris to the peak of excited manipulation. Nadia's cheeks hollowed as she eagerly sucked at the fat piston in her mouth. He was so hard and demanding under her tongue and lips. Yet the skin on his prick was so soft and smooth!
Up and down her head bobbed, as she sucked on the swollen column in her mouth. She soon began to swirl her tongue around and around Mickey's prick, which produced excited moans of pleasure from him. She tasted the abundant ooze of pre-seminal fluid that seeped from the pinprick mouth of his cock, and she found that she liked the taste. She was eager for his cum now, eager to discover what a man's cum tasted like. She delighted in the aroused moans that came from his throat. Her lips were sheathed tightly around the impaling thickness of his shaft.
Meanwhile, Joy's sucking and lapping at her aroused pussy was driving her into a frenzy. She bucked against the other woman's face until she thought she would go mad....
Her body began to quake, and she sucked violently at Prince's fleshy rod, while his lewd suggestions egged her on to greater and greater feats of sucking. With a vicious thrust into Joy's face, Nadia came like a thundering herd of wild horses, squealing and moaning and groaning around her mouthful of prick, her body blasted into the orbit of ecstasy! Her arms and legs convulsed with her wracked torso, as she was shaken by tremor of tremor of orgasmic delight.
Prince groaned. "Aaahhh ... aaaahh ... aaahhhggggghhh!" he cried, as his balls gave up their heavy load of sperm into her sucking mouth. Hungrily, she accepted the offering of his seed, swallowing his cum as it poured into her mouth in a long, hot cascade. It scalded her tongue with its acrid taste, and she loved it. His prick jerked and bobbed inside her mouth, jetting out the thickness of his cream. Nadia sucked and sucked, milking his balls of their payload. Prince groaned and shuddered and writhed above her as she ate him in a way no other woman had.
Nadia was lost in the swirling eddies of ecstasy, oblivious to the fact that Joy was cumming as she continued to suck voraciously at Nadia's cunt. The platinum blonde had the fingers of one hand in her own cunt and had finger-fucked herself to orgasm, turned on by the thrilling feel of Nadia's pussy against her tongue and lips.
At last, Joy moved away, and Mickey raised himself from her body. Nadia's mouth was dry, and she needed something refreshing to cleanse and moisten her palate. As though he had read her mind, Mickey appeared with her Bloody Mary. He was smiling as he handed it to her.
"Well, well, well, Mrs. Haines. That was something else! You are one hell of a woman, right, Joy?" he said, calling of his receptionist, who was to bring a fresh towel for the thoroughly seduced redhead.
"Fan-tas-tic!" Joy agreed enthusiastically.
"Show Nadia where the John is, so she can freshen up. Then we'll pop over to The Wolves' Den for a good lunch," Prince said.
"But ... what about the fittings?" Nadia asked.
"We can do that afterwards. I can't wait to show you off to the customers. Nadia, you've got a beautiful career ahead of you with Mickey Prince Enterprises ... that is, if you're still interested!"
CHAPTER EIGHT
Porter hung up the phone with relief. He dreaded calling Nadia from the office-he found that he was running out of excuses. He could hardly believe she really swallowed his lies, though she knew he was a demon for work. Nadia had always been naive anyway. But what bothered him was that she didn't seem to mind. Ever since that night when he had struck her t then practically raped her as she lay helplessly drunk, she had grown quite remote. She was withdrawn and indifferent with him. At first the had been depressed and irritable, but over the past several weeks, she seemed to have changed. She wasn't drinking all the time, for one thing. When he questioned her about it, she said she had entered some kind of therapy to help work out the problem. She seemed to have blossomed, and told him that she was doing volunteer work for a local charity during the days. The work sometimes required her to be out in evenings, too, which Porter didn't like at all. But he figured it was better than having an alcoholic wife. And it made his continued absence easier. The weeks had flown by for him. He could hardly wait to finish at the office so that he could see Judy. His free time centered around the engaging young girl, and he felt very close to her. He knew that she had fallen in love with him-he almost regretted that, though he had given some fleeting thought to leaving Nadia. But he would never marry Judy ... not with Blossom in the picture. He hated himself for being such a snob, but he just couldn't have a hippie wife with a mulatto baby! What would his brother, Ron, think? Not to mention his boss, or any of the people he knew. That didn't fit his strict, middle-class image at all. Still, he had never met anyone like Judy before, and for the first time in years, he felt like a complete man. She looked up to him in every way, made him feel important-which was more than Nadia ever did. Nadia was a nut he just couldn't crack, it seemed. But for the moment, he didn't care. He had Judy, and that made everything worthwhile....
Nadia lay sprawled on the huge bed in Mickey's luxurious apartment and looked out the enormous picture window to the twinkling lights below. The deep bed felt like soft billows of cotton candy clouds, and Nadia luxuriated in the warm glow that made her flesh tingle following her lover's heated attentions. Her body had grown so accustomed to his expert manipulations over the last several weeks, and she looked forward to each occasion when they could be alone together. Those occasions were once, and sometimes twice, daily. Often, Joy would form a trio with them. It was difficult for Nadia at first, but one afternoon, when Mickey was licking her pussy furiously, his slavering tongue seeking to give her maxium pleasure, Joy walked into the bedroom and sat down on her face!
For a moment, Nadia's breathing ceased and she froze into a state of shock. She had never realized that anything like this could happen to her! ... despite what had taken place in Mickey's office that day.
Nadia didn't know what to do. It was all surreal. But Mickey kept on licking and sucking at her heated, openly throbbing cunt, and the sensations of pure, passionate arousal continued to urge through her. The inescapable fact was that Joy was astride her face, her wet pulsating pussy firmly planted on a captive mouth! Joy's soft thighs gripped Nadia's face in a strong grasp, holding her immobile. Oh, God, what am I going to do now? she thought helplessly, her reason deserting her for a long moment.
She had hovered mindlessly on the edge of indecision ... until a sudden piercing thought had shot through her brain like a red-hot arrow. Why stop now, after all that's happened? Why not pass on to my friend the wonderfully pleasurable sensations that Mickey is producing in me? Didn't she lick me to a thrilling climax before? Why not, indeed? The idea of kissing another woman's pussy while her lover slavered between her own legs struck Nadia with the force of a brass-knuckled fist.
Without giving herself time to think, she had reached out tentatively with her tongue and dabbed at the throbbing pink openness of Joy's quivering pussy. It felt and tasted amazingly good, and Nadia was rewarded by a sobbing moan from the platinum blonde, who began to screw her moistly pulsing pussy down on Nadia's now-eager mouth. Again, Nadia reached out with her tongue and began to swipe carefully at the wetly squirming flesh, dipping her organ deeper and harder into the girl's velvety folds. She found that she liked the taste of the other woman's vagina, and inhaled the exotic perfume of her redolent cunt.
She stiffened her tongue and burrowed it incessantly into the sensitively writhing flesh, tasting the first flow of excitedly secreting feminine juices which misted down over her wet, flushed face. Eagerly, she sought out the hard little knob of the other woman's clitoris and titillated it cunningly between her teeth, nibbling at it as though it were a delicacy.
Nadia sucked and licked ravenously at Joy's grinding pussy, just as Mickey, spurred on by the sight of his assistant astride his mistress's face, slavered lewdly between Nadia's cream-white, moisture-drenched thighs. Joy's softly clenching buttocks were like flaccid mounds around Nadia's chin, and her smooth thighs were clamped in a vise-like grip on either side of Nadia's face. Nadia moaned with mounting pleasure into the secret warmth of Joy's tingling cunt, as the other woman's hands reached down and began to caress and fondle her palpitating breasts, tweaking the hardening little nipples between her fingers, adding to the tremendous swells of pleasure swirling through her.
Nadia was reaching new heights of undreamed-of pleasure. She reveled in taking part in such a lascivious trio in a way she had never experienced before, and the idea that she was actually licking and kissing another woman's pussy filled her with perverted excitement. She had never dreamed that she, Porter's wife, would ever get involved in anything like this, and certainly not so whole heartedly. But as she reminded herself again and again, she was a changed woman now, and her body had become accustomed to all kinds of bizarre sex.
Joy was moaning and mewling like a wild animal, she remembered, bouncing around on her face with quickening jerks, and Nadia realized that the slender receptionist must be approaching orgasm already. Suddenly, Joy's body stiffened, and after an eternal moment, she seemed to explode in a million fragments.
"I'm cuuummmmiiiinnnngggg!" Joy sobbed her body twisting and flailing almost out of control. Nadia's face was drenched with her flowing secretions, and she thought she would suffocate from the frantic grip the blonde had on her face.
But even as Joy was moaning with passionate abandon, Nadia felt the familiar spasm begin to contort her own body. Mickey redoubled his efforts, forcing his exhausted tongue again and again into the frenetically clutching sheath of her clasping vagina, swirling his lingual organ around inside her with maddening deftness.
And then, the moment of ecstasy had arrived for her, too. Her cries of intense pleasure were muffled in Joy's still-throbbing pussy, as her whole body flailed and gyrated, her thighs in a death-grip around Mickey's head, grinding her lust-swollen pussy against his pleasure-giving mouth.
When at last her body was quiet, and she relaxed with the warm flush of satiety, she released her thigh-hold on her lover, and collapsed next to the woman to whom she had given pleasure equal to that which she herself had received....
Yes, sometimes .Nadia could hardly believe that she was the person who had once considered herself "frigid". What a joke! If only Porter knew! Her mind had enlarged to accept all the variations of physical pleasure available to her; she was ready for anything now. Mickey had taught her that anything that felt good and exciting between two or more people couldn't be bad, and she had come to accept this tenet. She couldn't understand how she could have allowed herself to go on as she did before, living a sort of half-life. She was absolutely insatiable now, and her sexual appetites were equal to Mickey's. They were perfectly matched, sexually, and she noted that they got along beautifully in other ways, too. He was obviously proud of his protogee, and made no attempt to hide the fact in front of the other models. As he predicted, she was a great success at the restaurant, and she found that she thoroughly enjoyed displaying her scantily clad body to the lusting eyes of the predominantly male clientale. Business had increased-an effect Micky attributed to Nadia's appearance there. She was responsible for more sales than any of the other girls, and at times, earned more than two hundred dollars in commissions and fee during a single lunchtime showing! Mickey also gave her her pick of the fashions she modeled, telling her that she did more for them than any of the other girls.
He was definitely enamoured of her. But, knowing her situation, he didn't press her for a decision. He felt personally that the situation with her husband was a lost cause. The bastard didn't deserve her anyway, from what he knew of it. Still, Nadia never mentioned divorce. He would play it cool. Sooner or later, Haines would have to show his hand.
CHAPTER NINE
Judy was nursing Blossom at her exposed breast when Porter arrived for lunch that day. Though he never said it to Judy, the sight of the brown skinned baby at her nipple revolted him. He didn't like the idea of sucking the same flesh Judy's mulatto kid drank from. He had tried to act interested in Blossom; had even held her stiffly a couple of times. She was a cute baby, despite her prominent Negroid features. But he couldn't help feeling the way he did. He was afraid to be seen in public with Judy, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to change that feeling in himself, no matter how much he cared for the lovely teenage mother.
But seeing Judy with her baby had done one thing for him: it made him aware of Nadia's need for motherhood. He could understand now how important that sort of thing is to a woman. She was right-it had been five years, much too long. There was no reason why they shouldn't have children. He had a secure job, plenty of money and they were both responsible people. He could imagine how beautiful a baby of theirs would be, with pure, milky white skin and probably Nadia's hair. She would have a son, of course. Nadia was the kind of woman who would bear him strong fine sons.
He hadn't meant to say anything. It just popped out of his mouth.
"Judy, I'm not going to see you any more," he said hastily, right out of the blue.
The look of pain on her face didn't help him.
"Wh-y, Port? What happened?" she asked with shock and hurt, as though he had just put a knife through her heart, which, in fact, he had.
"I ... I think it's best if we don't see each other any more, that's all," he said quietly, toying with his plate of spaghetti.
"Did your wife ... does she know?" Judy asked, the tears welling up in her eyes.
"No ... at least, I don't think so. But I've hurt her enough already. You know that we have tfo future. I'm a married man and you're . ... "
"A runaway kid with a black baby, right? That's it, isn't it?"
"Of course not!" he lied, averting his eyes from her.
"Yes it is. At least, that's a big part of it. I've known for a long time. I can tell the way you look at Blossom, the way you act when you hold her...." her voice broke.
Porter was squirming. He didn't really want to stop seeing Judy-he was very fond of her; more than fond. But it was a dead end street. He had become worried, now that the tables were turned and Nadia seemed confident and happy in her own right. He decided that he'd rather have the old Nadia back, even if it meant severing his relationship with Judy.
"I love you, Port. Please don't leave me now. Blossom and me, we need you," she pleaded. He hadn't expected that, and her pathetic entreaty cleaved him in two. He reached for his wallet and took out three crisp one hundred dollar bills and placed them on the table. "Here. This will help you out for a while. I'll take care of the rent for the next couple of months. The place is in good shape, so there won't be much to buy except food and gas and whatever you need for clothes. You've done a great job with this dump, Judy. It's really cozy now," he said, looking that the cheery white walls and bright slipcovers and the pictures hanging here and there.
"Keep it. I don't want your charity!" she said defiantly.
"Don't be silly. You need it. I want to give it to you," he protested.
"I suppose you think I 'earned' it, huh? Well, don't you want to get your money's worth before you leave?" Men! she thought ruefully. They were all the same. They liked having their clandestine little affairs, and told their mistresses how great in bed they were, but when the little woman wagged her finger, they went running back with their cheating tails between their legs.
"Judy, don't talk like that, please," he begged her. "Don't cheapen what we had together."
"What do you think you're doing, throwing down your money as though you were at a whore house!" she cried angrily. A cold rage was seething through her. She felt betrayed and desperate. Porter had been more to her than anyone in her life. He was her best lover, her father, her friend. Now her childish dream was evaporating in a cloud of smoke. If they had quarreled violently, or had some major conflict ... But no, it wasn't any of those thing ... it was Porter's bigotry ... and his lack of courage. At that moment she hated her handsome lover.
"How can you go back to her, after all you told me about her ... how she was frigid ... how she was a nagging bitch?" Judy asked him, her blue eyes filled with tears.
"Let's not have a scene, Judy. I'm really sorry. I didn't want it to end. But it's not fair to anyone ... especially to you."
Judy saw through his feeble attempt at consolation. "Get out! Go then, you bastard!" she railed, and ran into the bedroom, little Blossom still clinging tenaciously to her bare breast.
Nadia was dressing for work when the doorbell rang. "Now who could that be?" she said aloud. She walked briskly to the door, annoyed at the interruption. She was surprised to see a very attractive young girl with a black baby under her arm!
"Mrs. Haines?" the girl asked, eyeing Nadia carefully.
"Why yes."
"My name is Judy ... Judy Turner. Could I come in for a minute? I need to talk to you."
"I'm getting ready for work, so I don't have much time ... but come in anyway. And who is this adorable little creature?" Nadia asked, smiling warmly at Blossom.
"That's Blossom. She's my kid...." Judy stated flatly.
"She's precious!" Nadia said sincerely. "How old is she?"
"Five months now."
"You're so young to be a mother...." Nadia went on nervously, wondering how the young woman knew her name.
"Yeah, I didn't mean for it to be this way, but that's the breaks," Judy continued, sitting down on the couch.
"I'm afraid I don't understand why you're here," Nadia said, looking at the attractive girl apprehensively.
"I guess I shouldn't be, but I just had to find out for myself."
"Find out what?"
Judy hesitated. "You really are a beautiful woman, Mrs. Haines. That makes me feel a little better, in a funny sort of way."
"Well thank you," Nadia said, blushing, "but I still don't understand...."
"Mrs. Haines, may I ask you a very personal question?"
"Eh, I...."
"Are you in love with your husband?" Nadia was taken aback. "That is a very personal question indeed! Perhaps you'd better come right to the point, Judy."
"Yeah. It's the only way to fly," Judy sighed heavily. "Mrs. Haines, I've been having an affair with your husband for over two months. I'm very much in love with him. He led me to believe that you were ... well...."
"Go on, Judy ... say it," Nadia said stiffly, trying to control the emotions that were flooding her brain.
"He told me you were a frigid bitch...."
"Really?" Nadia said archly. Her palms were beginning to sweat.
"I know Porter is a bastard in some ways, but he's the best thing that ever happened to me. If you really don't love him, I'd like to get him back ... even if it means putting Blossom up for adoption."
"What do you mean?" Nadia asked, fighting back the tears that threatened to erupt any moment.
"I know that's his hang-up ... the kid ... because she's half black," Judy was beginning to cry softly. Despite her own hurt, Nadia's heart Went out to the young mother. Without thinking, she rose from her chair and went over to the girl, putting her arms around her and hugging her warmly. They both dissolved in tears, crying on each other's shoulders and comforting each other as if they were intimate friends. And they were, from that moment on. Judy told Nadia the whole story then, confiding in the older woman as though she were Judy's mother.
When she had heard it all, Nadia's hurt turned to rage. "Oh, that bastard! He wouldn't let me have a child; yet he chose you. Now he's too much of a bigot to follow through!"
"Yes, but I don't know for certain how Porter feels about you, Nadia. I had thought-judging from the way he was with me, and the time we spent together, that it was all over between you two. Now I don't know what to think. You still haven't told me whether you're in love with him or not, Nadia."
"I ... I don't know, frankly. I honestly don't know. But one thing is certain: Porter Haines is going to pay for the misery he's caused both of us!" Nadia said vehemently. "Judy, you're coming to work with me. I want you to meet my boss. I think he can find you a good, part-time job. Then we'll discuss living arrangements for you and Blossom and maybe ... me!"
CHAPTER TEN
Porter felt strangely apprehensive as he steered his Chrysler into the double carport at their Benedict Canyon home. Nadia's care was not there, which didn't surprise him. She seemed to be so busy lately, and was home less and less. A definite change had come over her, and Porter just couldn't figure out what it was. On the rare occasions when their paths had crossed, Nadia seemed like a different woman. More mature, more sensual somehow. But it did him precious little good. He had decided to try and patch things up with her, to tell her he was ready to be a father. That should bring her around! He had known all along that a great part of Nadia's resistance to him sexually had been because of her anger at his refusal to let her have a child. But his ego demanded that he attribute her standoffishness to "frigidity". He wouldn't allow himself to believe that he was greatly to blame for her reactions. But in a rare moment of truthful confrontation with himself, he allowed for some error on his part. His guilt over the affair with Judy was nagging at him badly. He really did care for the kid, but he was too afraid of criticism to allow it to grow into anything else. Besides, he still loved Nadia. He loved both of them, in fact. And he had hurt them both....
The house was ominously quiet. Porter felt a stab of anxiety as he walked through the door. It was more than a lack of Nadia's physical presence ... something else was missing. He began to grow panicky as he walked through the tomb-like rooms, unconsciously searching for something, though he didn't know what. Then he found it. There, on the kitchen table, was a terse note in Nadia's neat script:
Don't wait up for me-I won't be home ... ever.
Good-bye Porter.
Nadia
He was cut to the quick. Never, in his wildest fantasies had he imagined her capable of leaving him. His heart beat frantically, and sweat broke out on his brow.
He lifted the phone and began to dial. Then he put it down again and raced into the bedroom. Flinging open the door of her closet, he saw that all her clothes were gone. He went to her bureau-empty; cleaned out. He rushed into the bathroom-nothing remained of her personal items. Porter's heart sank. He sat down on the bed, rubbing his forehead nervously with a sweating hand. His brain was racing. How could she have done this to him? Why? In a moment of illucidation, he swore under his breath and got up, racing out of the house and into his automobile.
Forty minutes later, he screeched to a halt in front of 124 Precita Court. The van was gone. He saw no lights in the cottage. Nervously, he used to key to let himself in. One quick survey of the room told him Judy had also moved her things out. A look in the closet confirmed his fears.
Porter was beside himself now. His whole world was crumbling rapidly. He had rushed to Judy, hoping to find solace in her arms, only to find her gone. Surely there was no link between the sudden flight of his two lovely birds ... or was there? She wouldn't! Porter reassured himself. She couldn't-she doesn't know where I live. But of course, he knew that his address was easily obtainable for someone who knew about him what Judy did. He swore under his breath again. That little bitch! he said, If she's screwed things up with Nadia....
The money was gone, too, as he figured. But he couldn't be sure if Judy had contacted his wife or not. Maybe Nadia just got fed up. Or maybe .-.. and this was a possibility he hadn't seriously considered before ... maybe she had something going on the side herself? Painful as the possibility was, he had to know. But how? He hadn't the foggiest idea where Nadia was. He didn't even know where she worked. Who did? Margaret! Yes, that nosey girlfriend of Nadia's would know. Why hadn't he thought of it sooner?
He rushed out of the cottage, unable to bear the sight of it any longer, and headed for his favorite bar on Wilshire Boulevard. After frantic trial and effort, and several wrong numbers he finally reached Margaret. She was surprised to hear his voice.
"Why, Porter, I never expected to hear from you this evening!" she gushed. She was prepared for a chatty, meaningless conversation.
"Margaret, I'm kind of pressed for time. Something's come up, and I need to reach Nadia. Do you have her work number?"
"Why no, I don't, Porter. Is it anything serious? You sound worried."
"No, nothing serious. I just need to get in touch with my wife rather quickly, that's all."
"Of course. She's out a lot, isn't she?" Margaret pried. "Sure seems enthusiastic over her boss, too ... that Prince fellow."
"He's a prince?" Porter asked incredulously. , "No, no...." Margaret chuckled, "that's his name, Prince ... Mickey Prince. Some kind of enterpreneur or something."
"Thanks, Margaret. You're a gem!" he said.
"Don't tell Nadia I said anything!"
"My lips are sealed."
"Hope it works out all right, Porter," she added with a concerned tone.
"So do I, Margaret. So long now, and thanks again."
His hands were trembling when he hung up. He felt the need for a stiff martini-a double one! At least he had something to go on. There couldn't be too many Mickey Prince's in the phone book. He found what he was looking for: Mickey Prince Enterprises. He jotted down the address and dialed the number. He recognized the impersonal voice of an answering service operator. Dismayed that Prince would not be in the office until after 10:00 the following morning, Porter declined to leave his name and hung up. He drank himself into a stupor, and almost had an accident on the way home.
He cancelled some appointments the next day, and made his way to Prince's office. He identified himself to the wispy blonde in the garrish reception room, noting with revulsion the glossy photographs of the runway models. Joy feigned ignorance, insisting that there was no one named Nadia Haines in their employ. Porter grew angry, just as adamantly insisting that he knew for certain his wife was connected with the firm. The verbal battle was growing more heated by the moment when Prince walked into the office.
"Are you Mickey Prince?" Porter demanded.
"That's right. What can I do for you?" Prince said calmly.
"For starters, you can tell me how in the hell to get touch with my wife!" Porter shouted.
"Sure, Pal. What's her name? Or rather, what's your name?" Prince asked sardonically. He decided at once that he didn't like the sonofabitch.
"Porter Haines, Nadia's husband. I know she works for you," he said, holding out his hand grudgingly for the other man's handshake.
Prince took the proffered palm, looking directly into Haines' eyes, a sly smile on his face. "Pleasure, Mr. Haines."
"This receptionist of yours has been feeding me a line of bull. She claims she never heard of my wife," Porter said, shooting daggers at Joy.
"Don't be too hard on her, Mr. Haines. She's been instructed to be discreet. Those are my orders."
"What the hell have you got to hide, Prince?" Porter demanded.
"Let's step into my office, Haines. There's a lady present," Prince said, putting him down. He really disliked the bastard now.
Prince was maddeningly calm. His movements were slow and deliberate. He lit up a Sherman cigarette and offered one to Porter, who declined it. He wanted one thing only: information. "Okay, Prince, where is she?" Prince thrust out his arm and pressed the button on his watch. "She should be on her way to the job now," he said unconcernedly.
"Goddamn it, Prince, you know what I mean! Cut the crap. Just tell me how to find her."
"I'll do better than that. I'll take you to her."
"You will?" Porter asked in disbelief.
"Sure. You'll get to see her ... only what makes you think she wants to see you?"
"She ... she told you about ... about it?" he asked nervously.
"In a word, yes. And as far as she's concerned, you're persona non grata, buddy."
"She'll change her mind about that."
"We'll see," Prince said smugly.
"What makes you so fucking cocksure?" Porter stormed.
Prince grinned and got up from his desk, his poise intact. He made Porter feel like a child.
"Take it easy, pal. I merely said, we'll see."
The restaurant was already beginning to crowd up. Porter was raging inside. Prince had promised to take him to Nadia. He couldn't believe that his wife worked in such a place. Nadia Haines ... in The Wolves' Den? Canned music was piped into the room over muted loudspeakers. The patrons were mostly businessmen, though there were a few couples in the room. Prince sipped a Cinzano on the rocks, while Porter downed a beer. He was still hung over from the night before.
Suddenly a lovely young woman appeared wearing a flimsy negligee over a sheer nightgown. Her body's curves were enticingly revealed in the clothes, and the voluptuous mounds of her breasts bobbed within the frame of the low-cut decolletage. Porter swallowed hard. The girl paused briefly at their table, pirouetting and displaying a discreet card with the price of the garment hand lettered on it. Porter shot a look at Prince.
Two other girls followed her, each wearing a provocative outfit that Porter felt should be reserved for the privacy of the bedroom. Good God, what had Nadia gotten into? Or was she-as he hoped-working somewhere in a back room, assisting the other models?
"Where's my wife, Prince?" he demanded. "Ah, here comes the lovely lady now." Porter's jaw flew open as he saw Nadia approach, wearing one of the sexiest-and briefest-bra and panty numbers he had ever seen. She was covered by a robe sheer enough to read a newspaper through. And she looked radiant, totally sure of herself! What had come over her? This wasn't the shy, uptight Nadia he had known for so many years. She never even liked to undress in front of him! Now, here she was, exposing her near naked body to the rapacious gaze of all the lecherous bastards in the room-including Prince!
The veins stood out on Porter's temples, and his pulse quickened. He hated Prince, but he couldn't take his eyes off his beautiful wife. He had never seen her look so provocative, so alluring.
Nadia caught sight of him as she walked by. For an instant she froze, then she regained her composure and went on with her modeling routine, as though nothing unusual had happened. But she was shaking inside. How had he found her? Why had Mickey brought him there?
She didn't go near the table again, and it was all she could do to keep from bursting into tears. Mickey went backstage and she rushed to him, throwing herself in his arms and demanding an explanation. He told her what had happened.
"You'll have to talk to him, Nadia," Mickey said firmly but sympathetically.
"No! I can't! I don't want to!" Nadia protested.
"It's the only way to find out whether you've made the right decision or not. You know that, don't you?"
Tears filled her eyes. She put her head on his shoulder. "You're right, Mickey," she said quietly.
"Get dressed, honey. Meet us in the private dining room ... the small one. And relax, baby. You hold all the cards. I love you, Nadia. But it's up to you. Whatever the decision, I'm behind you all the way." And he kissed her warmly on the forehead and went out into the main room.
Nadia stood there stunned for a moment. Mickey had never told her he loved her before. Now it only made things harder for her ... or perhaps, it made them easier. Her brain reeled, and troubled thoughts tumbled through her head like Keno balls in a whirling basket. She thought of Judy, and of Blossom, who was probably sleeping peacefully at her mother's breast. They were at the apartment Mickey had lent them his apartment building in the hills above the Sunset Strip ... the same building where her clothes hung next to his in his plush penthouse.
She thought of the baby that she wanted so badly, remembering how Porter had stubbornly refused her motherhood. Yet he had chosen for his mistress a woman with a child ... a child he could not accept because of its color....
She thought of Mickey ... of his kindness and generosity to her ... of the way he had liberated her sexually in a way Porter never had. But Porter had done for Judy what Mickey had done for her. Was he in love with her? Or was he still in love with the woman who had been his wife for five years? And was she still in love with him? ... despite all that had happened?
Nadia reached the closed door of the private dining room. She paused, drawing in a deep breath. Her heart was pounding inside her chest. Then slowly, she placed her hand on the bronze doorknob and gave it a turn, knowing that her life would never be the same again.
